False Sight (19 page)

hys’s Original looks exactly like Rhys, no older or younger. His blond hair is slicked back and longer, curling away from his neck, not the sideways part Rhys prefers. I can see hundreds of my tiny reflections in the golden scales of his armor. His eyes have the same ancient qual- ity as the director’s. It’s hard not to feel awe in the presence of beings who have lived for over a thousand years. I don’t want to be in awe; I want to look down on them. I want to feel equal. I know now how they got the auditorium into such a fervor. They seem utterly sure, utterly competent, all in the way they carry themselves. It’s an energy that fills the room. They aren’t quite smiling, but they look happy. Content. And they should be, since they’re among the five most powerful people in all the universes.

They appraise us in silence for thirty seconds. To our credit, we don’t say a word, just return the stare. The back of my neck begins to itch. The director’s hair really is golden, not auburn. I guess the tacky cloak isn’t enough to set her apart from her clones.

“What do we do with them?” the Original Rhys finally asks.
Let us free. Give us a chance to fight.
I ignore the actual possibilities. But it strikes me that maybe, just maybe, they under- estimate us. And maybe I can use that.
The director watches me with a hint of disappointment on her otherwise blank face. “What were you doing in my office?”
They don
’
t know who we are.
I could still be Miranda 2407 to them.
Rhys opens his mouth and utters a syllable, but I interrupt him. “I wanted to see the Torch. I’m sorry.”
My palm itches where the black square dissolved through my armor. I think about making a fist as hard as I can, but now might be the wrong time.
The director rolls her eyes. “Please. I know who you are.”
So I was wrong, but if the director is really so wise, if she’s moved beyond things like hate, maybe I can reason with her. And no matter what, I know she underestimates my resolve.
I can’t stop myself from the moment of weakness that comes next, because I have to try, no matter how unlikely it is. I was never much for begging, but now I press my hands against the plastic and feel my face contort. “Please,” I say. “Please stop. We can make some agreement. You can close the way to our world. You’ll never hear from us again.”
Original Rhys says, “The way can never be fully closed. All worlds aggressive and unenlightened are purged before they can grow beyond our control. Your world is aggressive and unenlightened.”
I pound my fists on the glass, hard and sharp. They don’t flinch. “And you can’t figure out a better way to control us?
Monsters?
You send animals into our world to
eat us
. You . . .” I want to go on, but there is no emotional change in their faces. I might as well be screaming at robots. I guess after doing this for a thousand years, it’s hard to care at all. The end for us is a normal day for them.
“The eyeless ensure the world is intact for future generations. For repopulation on our terms, with careful control,” Original Rhys says. I catch a peek of Rhys from the corner of my eye. He stares at his progenitor with pure hatred.
“We pose no threat to you. My world doesn’t even know about the Black.” My voice is smaller than I’d like. The urge to reason with them drains out of me like blood through a thousand cuts. Words won’t change this. Nothing will change until I’m free with a sword in my hand.
“That’s the point,” the director says softly. “One day it will.”
“We’re late,” Original Rhys says. Then he smirks at me. “Our monsters have to eat.”
“Stop,” she tells him, almost playfully. To me she says, “We will speak again upon our return. In the meantime, Dr. Delaney will cull your memories to learn who else stands with you.”
And just like that, they’re gone. The door hisses shut behind them.
Things get worse after that. Rhys withdraws to a corner of his cube and rubs his fingers against his temples. I know how he feels—like a trapped animal. I pace the small area of my cube at first, trying to think, shoving emotion aside again.
A clear mind is an efficient mind,
our Dr. Tycast used to say. Actually, I may have made that up, but it sounds like something he would say.
After a while, Noah appears in the corner and watches me pace. I don’t look at him. His dark eyes will be another reminder of the people I’ve failed.
I visualize the army of Roses crossing over right now, marching into a confused and terrified world already under attack. They are the insult being added to the injury. This different enemy will emerge from nowhere and march in our streets, aiding the monsters in the extermination. People won’t just die in agony. They’ll die as afraid as they’ve ever been in their lives.

“Got anything?” Rhys says after an hour. An
hour
has passed.
How many dead?
“Got anything?” he says again. Is this my fault? Is this on me? “No.”
He doesn’t ask me again.

Dr. Delaney comes in during the second hour. He looks at me like I’ve betrayed him. I almost feel bad about it, since he helped me, but I never quite get there. He still fights for this side, so he’s an enemy.

The five golden Roses who first captured us come back and open the door to my cell; the sudden freedom strikes something in me I can’t control. A last ditch effort, I guess. I charge them as the Peter raises a rifle and shoots me with a dart. It pierces my abdomen, and blood wells behind the armor. The drugs work fast. Heat moves through my veins, branching out like tree limbs. It reaches my brain, and my eyes swim. It doesn’t quite put me to sleep, but I’m weak enough for them to drag me back to the infirmary.

I fade in and out, catching glimpses of the hallway they drag me down. The way is paved in gold. Must be a pretty common element here. Or they have a gold paint surplus. Once I see the bed with straps, I try to kick and punch and bite, but by then the poison has made it through my entire system. The best I can manage is a moan. Rhys is slumped between two Roses on the other side of the room.
Don’t strap us down,
I want to say.
Leave us alone. We’re just like you.

They get me on the bed and strap my ankles and wrists to the frame.
“Leave her armor on?” someone says.
“I only need her from the neck up. It’s fine.”
Delaney’s face comes into view, blocking the light from the ceiling. “Hello, Miranda. I’m going to take your memories from you now. If you could relax your mind, that would be ideal. I don’t want this to hurt.”
Olivia’s words echo in my mind.
If you find yourself against uneven odds...
I’d say this is pretty uneven.
Make a fist,
she said,
as hard as you can.
I make a fist as hard as I can.

he result is instantaneous. The heat that courses up my arm is different from the poison. This is a lightning strike, hot and electric. At first, I wonder why I didn’t

do this sooner. My heart pounds so hard I feel it thumping against the inside of my ribs. Each breath gives me strength, until I feel like I’m bursting out of my suit. My vision flickers red with every heartbeat.

I lift my arms and the straps around my wrists break like strings. I sit up and pull the ones off my ankles. Delaney spins around and drops his tray of instruments. The five golden Roses pull the swords off their backs and hold them high. The Peter is just lifting his arm, but he’s slow, so slow.

I pick up the bed and throw it at them.
It knocks three of them over. They skid all the way across the floor, toppling more beds. The remaining two come at me swinging but their strikes are in slow motion. The one over- hand chop from the Noah is laughable. I step around him before his chop is finished, then punch him at the base of his skull. The crunch travels up my forearm. The Miranda stabs at my belly, but I bend out of the way and backhand her so hard it snaps her neck. She collapses, and I catch her sword before it hits the ground.

The Peter and the Olive are unconscious. But the Rhys heaves the twisted bed off himself and stands up, sword raised.
“Drop it,” I tell him. He doesn’t. I sidestep his thrust and run past his right, dragging my blade across his throat.
When it’s over, I stand in the middle of the infirmary, heav- ing, searching for a new target. The other clones occupying beds watch me with wide eyes, waiting to see what I’ll do next, but they aren’t my concern. Delaney is hiding behind one of the overturned beds. My strength fades, and I’m left sick on wobbly feet.
Rhys is strapped to a bed like I was. His stares at me, mouth hanging open.
I don’t feel a thing besides my amped blood. The people in my world are dying in much worse ways right now.
“Cut me free,” Rhys says. His voice is hoarse.
Itugathisstraps,butmyartificialstrengthisgone.Ihave to use the bloody sword to cut him out. He slips off the bed and checks pulses, then appropriates weapons.
“You’ll have to tell me how you did that,” he says.
Suddenly I can barely stand. The strength leaving me seems to take some of my natural strength too. I lean against the bed, and Rhys puts his hand on my back.
“Thank you for saving me,” he says. “Are you okay?”
No, I’m not. I look at the mess I made and begin to feel. I can’t know if they were evil or if they were raised to do this one job, like we were, until we knew better. But if they had good in them, they would know better. Their upbringing and superiority is no excuse for planet-wide extermination. Not even close.
“Don’t think about it,” Rhys says. “We’ll think later, yeah?” He tucks a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear, then cups my face until I look into his eyes. They burn bright now.
“We have a world to save,” he says.
I summon what strength I have left and renew it with hope. We are free, and nothing is going to stop us.

We ride back to the auditorium. The Roses are still funneling out through an exit at the far end. The Originals are gone. Rhys and I hover near the back of the Roses lining up to leave. No one really looks at us. The teams of five seem to stick to themselves, chatting in excited tones about what lies ahead. I know what lies ahead; I’ve seen it.

You there?
My strength ebbs like a tide again, leaving my balance unsteady. My vision flickers black every few minutes, like I lose consciousness for a thousandth of a second. I wonder if using that disc thing Olivia gave me has long-term side effects. I wonder if I’ll live long enough to experience them.

“I’m here,” Noah says.
Are you still with me? Till the end?
“I am, but it’s hard. You aren’t doing it on purpose, but

your mind doesn’t like me in here. It feels like . . . trying not to drown with someone tugging your legs from underwater.” He must feel the horror that rises up in me.
“Not your fault, I said. Try not to make this about you.”
His tone almost makes me smile. He could always joke in the worst situations.
“It was Nina too,” he says. “Fighting her took something out of me. I’m in pieces here.”
I want to make him wholeagain. He saved my identity.My
life
. Without him inside my head, I would be Nina right now.
ThemassofRosesmovesforwardanotherfewfeet;they’re narrowing into a tunnel up ahead. We hang back far enough that no one talks to us.
If I get the Torch
—
“You said that. I’m ready. I’m ready and I’m here with you.”

It means I
’
ll die.
“I’m here with you.”
But he’s not. The next second I feel him evaporate. Each

time it happens, I wonder if he’ll come back. I should find some way to transfer him into a new body. As soon as he came back, he’d be happy. He’d be happy to be alive, to breathe air and see things with his own eyes.

If only I had more time.
I hear a footstep behind me and whirl, hand reaching for my sword. Olivia stands a few feet away, half-hidden in the shadows, with a Black portal wide behind her. The red cloak is the only thing that keeps me from cutting her down.
“You’re going the wrong way,” she says.
I lower Beacon. “What are you doing here?”
She sighs. “Assembling the only hope your world has. I have no time.”
“What?” Rhys says helpfully.
“Either come or stay here. I have to get back before my absence is noted.”
She steps backward through the portal and disappears, as silent as stepping behind a curtain.
“I don’t—” Rhys begins.
His voice cuts off as I step through the Black, pulling him along.