THE VTV DESCENDS THROUGH the snow-laden clouds, and instantly the shadow of the lillipads is apparent, stealing the sun from the sky. Although safe in this craft, I feel my skin prickle as everything shifts from a gorgeous blue heaven with a burning orange sunset to a muted gray sleet blustering between the great pillars that support my world.

Shuddering, the VTV drops like a falling stone. My scarred hand throbs, the fingers turning white as I grip the arm of my seat.

The engines whine as the vehicle banks sharply. My stomach convulses. I mash my eyelids together, willing the fall to stop—and just like that, it does. The complaint of the engines fades and is replaced by the howl of the wind blasting the craft.

“We have arrived, Demitri Stasevich,” Tatiana says.

“Good. That’s good.”

Big brave Gracile. You’re so disappointing.

“It is not, Demitri Stasevich. I fear we were blown off course during our descent.”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

Don’t cry, little kozel.

I need my DBS. Must focus. “Tatiana, what is that supposed to mean? Where are we?”

“We are ...” She pauses, her processors calculating our location. “We are outside Zopat, but farther out than intended.”

“How far?”

“Six kilometers from the outer wall of Zopat.”

“Well, that’s just great. We can’t fly closer?”

“We cannot,” she replies. “The thrusters must first cool.”

“Okay, then we wait.”

The Creed shakes her head. “That is not an option.”

My heart pounds a little harder. “Are you saying I have to walk through this Robust wasteland to get where I’m going?”

“No, Demitri Stasevich, I believe you will have to run.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We are being watched.”

“Watched? By Robusts?”

“It would seem so, yes.” She points beyond the windshield to figures gathered on a nearby hill, their bodies and faces covered with heavy, bundled garments. In their hands, they carry crude weapons of every sort.

Oh, this is delicious. Let me out. Let me do what I was born to do.

“Shut up, Vedmak. I have to think.”

Stop being a coward. It’s not time to think—it’s time to act.

“Shut up.”

Tatiana swivels at me, looking confused.

“Not you ... not ... Just tell me where we need to go.”

“We must go to the southwest—”

“No. Which way? Point.”

Tatiana turns and points to the rear of the VTV.

“Okay. It’s okay. I just need to—ˮ

“Demitri Stasevich.”

“What now?”

“The Robust humans are coming this way. My recommendation is we exit the ship and run for Zopat.”

“You can’t be serious.”

The Creed nods. “I am serious, Demitri Stasevich. We should leave now. If they surround us, we will be trapped. They will disable the vehicle and get in. Eventually.”

“There aren’t weapons on this ship?”

Vedmak laughs hysterically.

“I have a plasma rifle, but this is a transport veh—ˮ

“Okay, I don’t care. Let’s go.”

Tatiana grabs her weapon, its vents glowing bright blue. She hits the release mechanism, and the door flies open with a shunk. The wind blast nearly knocks me over. I pull the ugly long Robust coat tight, slide the round goggles over my eyes, and follow Tatiana through the hatch.

Sleet stings my face. Darkness is falling fast in the shade of the lillipads. The only light amid the gloom is a distant glow—the lights of Zopat. I pull the lever to shut and secure the door, activating the electrical security system. If I’m lucky and these primitive creatures are superstitious enough, they may leave it alone after a few of them get shocked. Tatiana nods and takes off at a ridiculous pace toward Zopat. The howl of the Robusts echoes across the waste as I sprint after her.

“They have seen us exit, Demitri Stasevich,” she calls over her shoulder. “You must stay with me.”

I can barely hear her over the gusts of frigid wind.

Chancing a look back, I see some of the filthy beasts surrounding the VTV. Others chase us, their screams filling the frigid evening air.

Stand and fight them.

“I can’t.”

You disgust me.

“Just shut up, Vedmak.”

Ahead, Tatiana opens her gait and rockets forward. Her head snaps right and left, scanning the environment for threats. The lights of Zopat grow brighter, streaming above the outer wall.

“Uff.” I run full tilt into Tatiana, who has come to a dead stop, and bowl her over, falling on top of her. We tumble down a short rise. Immediately I spring to my feet and shake it off. “Why did you stop?”

Tatiana is already standing, scanning back and forth, her rifle at the ready. “We have been trapped, Demitri Stasevich.”

“What do you mean—ˮ

A large mass of Robusts waits ahead of us. In their midst stands one taller than the rest. He wears heavy garments adorned with jewelry and broken bones, and he’s crowned with a primitive headdress. In his hands, he holds a pike with a long jagged blade at one end and what must be a tiny child’s skull hanging from it. The others give him space.

“You,” the big one yells out to us above the chattering and yammering of his minions. “You have intruded into my domain.”

Tatiana is coiled, ready to strike.

“It was an accident. I just need—”

“You belong to me now,” he shouts, thrusting his spear into the air. “Bring me the head of the Gracile.”

“No. Wait.”

Tatiana’s rifle flashes again and again, blue bolts rocketing across the dark landscape, eviscerating the Robusts as they come for us.

“Please, please stop.” Oh, for the love of the Leader.

Vedmak hisses. You’re going to get us killed. Let me do what I do.

“No. I can’t, I—ˮ

A rock catches my heel, and I fall to my back. From the frozen ground, all I can do is watch as they swarm Tatiana. She moves with robotic precision, using her rifle to deflect blow after blow. But they are too many. A massive blade crushes the side of her weapon, rendering it inoperable. She clubs two or three of the brutes to the ground with the butt before it’s pulled from her grasp. Tatiana’s close-quarter combat programming takes over, and she launches forward, slamming her fist into the face of a savage. Repeatedly she spins and lashes out, pummeling the primitives. Trudging forward, she delivers a brutal stomp into the midsection of one and whips another’s head backward with a perfectly timed uppercut.

Then without warning, the Creed halts her attack and looks down—a large blade protrudes from her torso. The Robusts converge upon her, their wild screams growing louder as they hack away with primitive weapons.

“Tatiana.”

“Demitri Stasevi-vrrrrrrr,” the voice says, distorted. “Run. You must—rrrrrrrr.” The screams of the savages drown out the robotic words.

“Vedmak. Help.”

Oh, now you want my help?

“They’re going to kill us.”

I want to hear you say it.

The filthy, churning mass of men shifts and comes at me. “I want you to do it!”

And like an electrical breaker snapping, everything I’ve ever known as me ceases to exist.