My sister throws a bash.
We won, after all. We took the Iron Mountain. The ancient Rusty ghosts buried there are dead at last. We rescued the mind—maybe the soul—of Paz.
Everyone shows up. The crews that scouted the mountain, even those who lost their boards and had to walk back. The two hundred unlucky rebels who came all this way, only to miss the battle. Those who never cared about saving some city AI, but who wouldn’t miss a Boss Frey bash. One crew arrives in a vertical-takeoff jet, splitting the sky with a sonic boom before it circles around and lands on a tendril of fire.
The Victorians are here too, all of them alive and well. After a two-hundred-klick ride with a tube sticking out of Teo’s chest, the autodoc had him patched up inside an hour. Yandre and I arrived to find him and Col waiting at the entrance of the mine.
We kept waiting, but none of the other rebels who went into the Iron Mountain came home after us.
Not one.
Rafi’s cavernous throne room isn’t big enough, so the party spills across the mountainside. Food, noise, drink, bonfires, the night sky peppered with safety fireworks—even a few explosions of the old-fashioned, unsafe kind.
It’s not like the stately summer festivals in Shreve, those measured, choreographed, color-themed displays. Rebel fireworks shows are mock battles—flares split open and lit, sent skittering along the ground at each other, homemade rockets sputtering at the sky.
I watch from the ridgeline, alone with my bubbly, letting myself feel the celebration without it asking too much of me. All that joy is too much to bear, when the Joy inside me is burned away.
Yandre and I are the heroes of the hour, the only people to emerge from the heart of the Iron Mountain alive and free. There’s talk of Yandre becoming a boss—and maybe me too.
I’d be Boss Rafia, of course. My greatest victory, and my sister gets the credit.
I lost my strongest ally. X, my friend.
Somewhere deep in my heart is languish, grief, and torn.
I killed my brother.
‘Frey?’ someone calls through the darkness. I can’t quite place the voice, so Rafi’s balletic posture fills me.
‘Wrong sister,’ I say, gesturing at the party. ‘Frey’s down there.’
‘I’m not looking for a boss.’
My eyes search the darkness. Then a weeping willow of flame bursts in the sky, shimmering blue and gold across a bland, familiar face.
A freshly minted avatar of the sovereign city of Diego.
The bubbly in my stomach goes sour. It’s nervous-making, meeting someone you recently chopped in half.
But nervous is better than feeling nothing.
‘You’re looking well,’ I say. ‘Compared to last time.’
That uninflected smile. ‘Can’t say the same for you.’
I rub a hand over the fuzz on my scalp. After two close encounters with exploding flamethrowers, I’m basically hair-missing. Though maybe the city means my sadness.
‘Taking a page from Tally’s book,’ I say. ‘Letting the scars heal naturally.’
‘Nature is overrated,’ Diego says.
‘Spoken like a city. Speaking of scars, sorry about cutting you in half. It wasn’t personal.’
The avatar shrugs. ‘I’m not a person.’
I turn away. Something about that shrug has never looked quite human.
‘You’re not a rebel either,’ I say. ‘And this is a rebel bash—so why are you here? If you think you can lock me up again, I have several hundred heavily armed friends who beg to differ.’
‘We detained you for your own safety.’ They sit on the rocks beside me, straightening their dress with small, precise motions. ‘And you seem safe enough.’
‘So this is a social call?’
‘We’re assisting in the transfer of the Paz backup. We’ll take it back tonight and load it straight into the walls. In a few days, the city will start coming back to consciousness.’
I frown. ‘And erase my father’s spyware? I thought you wanted to let him think his conquest was on schedule.’
‘A change of plan—we can’t let a fellow AI drift without a city. Besides, the Paz backup has proof that the earthquake was unnatural. That should make your father’s existence difficult enough.’
‘Won’t it just make everyone more afraid of him?’
‘A little of both.’ They smile. ‘In any case, the occupation of Paz will fail.’
Those last six words send something through me. My feels may have crumbled, but I can still recognize a win. The rebels at the mountain didn’t die for nothing.
Shatter City might finally start to become whole again.
But the feeling doesn’t quite reach my heart.
‘My father still killed a hundred thousand people,’ I say.
‘Who must be avenged. That’s the reason for our visit. To tell you that our deal remains in place, Frey of Shreve.’
I shake my head. ‘Rafi’s the better choice.’
‘We just met her down there, pretending to be you. We do not concur.’
I stare down at the bash. ‘She’s a born leader. Look at all these rebels wrapped around her finger.’
‘A city is not a crew, Frey.’
‘Maybe not. But I don’t know anything about running either!’
The avatar waves its hand at the night around us. ‘Frey, this is all your doing. Paz whispered two words in your ear, and this peculiar web of alliances formed around you. You saved a city.’
‘Not me. It was Yandre, Rafi, X, the Vics. A whole bunch of other crews.’
‘But you linked them.’ The avatar stands, still looking down at the bash. ‘The heirs of two first families, a dozen free cities, and the largest gathering of rebels since Tally Youngblood disappeared—all allied against your father. Only you could’ve made those connections.’
‘I didn’t connect anything. You had me locked up when all this got started!’
‘And your friends rescued you—allies are a strength.’
‘Not mine,’ I say with a sigh. ‘The Vics are coming apart at the seams.’
‘Dysfunctional, yet they freed you from our custody, and we are very resourceful. And didn’t Teo Palafox take a bullet for you? That’s what he told us, anyway. Several times.’
I feel a smile on my face, then remind myself not to be charmed by this machine. They are not my friend, just the enemy of my enemy.
‘Fine, I have lots of allies. But the rebels only want chaos, and their best leader’s just fallen. And my father still has that earthquake weapon. No one’s safe from him.’
‘Agreed. That’s why our deal still stands.’
I take a long swig from my bubbly. ‘The Pazx will hate it, having their walls watching them. Even if it’s their own AI instead of Shreve.’
Diego gives an inhuman shrug. ‘They’ll get used to it. My people did.’
Essa won’t, and neither will Primero. But rather than give their names to this machine, I change the subject.
‘Do you really think you can kill my father?’
The sovereign city of Diego turns and walks away, for a moment ignoring the question. But then that vast, empty smile glitters from the edge of the darkness.
‘One of us will have to, Frey.’