I collide into the side of a wall with such force I hear ringing in my head for the next few minutes and warning bells are tickertaping on my display. Rune lets me sit still while he silently climbs the enormous walls of the fort to scan inside. The information instantly feeds through my display. It’s giving my own health status and telling me I’ll be at full health in less than two minutes. “Are you freaking cyborgs or something?”
“Something,” he answers under his breath.
I roll my eyes and pull myself up off the ground. I’m dressed like the enemy, so why all the sneaking in? While Rune is pulling up diagnostics and texts of gibberish blink quickly past my eyes, I head for the front gate and walk right in. Screw it. I’m getting my sister and leaving.
This suit makes me feel invincible. I’m using it.
And I’m not giving it back either.
When the world rights itself, I’m putting it right on eBay.
Smoke and snow hang thick in the air. Hidden behind the enemy’s armor, I silently move toward the center where huge fires burn, shooting flames of strange colors into the night air. I watch for a moment, mesmerized. The colors are brilliant. I’ve never seen hues like this before.
Padding softly over the snow, I shift slowly through the men, hoping my disguise stays hidden in the shadows and smoke. Inside the armor my body heat rises the way the sun would warm my skin on a hot summer day. The tips of my fingers and toes tingle with warmth and I feel that if I really wanted to, I’d be able to blast out rays of heat and light from them. I feel powerful.
Dozens of masked men stand around me like futuristic sentinels. Their armor glowing wickedly against the blazing fires, throwing off long jagged shadows and swirling mist behind them. Concealed faces, indiscernible features, with dark deep wells for eyes and a pulsing beat of electricity that hums over their gears and skin. Do I look the same right now as this strange metal becomes part of my flesh? I can feel it now settling in deep, tattooing itself right through my muscles then rooting down even farther, seeping into the marrow of my bones. It’s like some sort of robotic magic. Something terrifying you’d only feel in a nightmare. One that also feels strangely familiar.
Through a cluster of guards on the other side of the fires, I see the opening to the inside of what must be an enormous gathering hall. Feminine voices whisper, echoing over the grounds. I hear their low murmurs and soft cries and I pick up my pace. None of the guards, aliens, cyborg assholes—whatever they are—notice me.
I slip on a patch of ice as I reach the entrance and grab out along the door to steady myself. I must have gasped out loud, because a small group of girls huddling closest to the doorway dart their eyes in my direction. My body stills, not wanting to alert anyone else of my presence, and after a few moments their eyes drift back down, hope lost. Despondent.
I find myself not caring.
Not caring about the fate of the women.
The hollow-eyed women who stand shivering in the dim gymnasium, clutching their arms around themselves for warmth. A pathetic gathering of humans huddling together.
Stats of vital signs crawl across my vision, introducing me to each individual woman by their heart rate and oxygen levels. Thermal heat sensors color their features into rainbow cartoons—automatizing them into colors and numbers and nothing more.
Nothing more.
Something’s wrong.
Codes zip across the screen. Numbers. Symbols. Ages. Weights. Levels of fertility. Sicknesses. Sexually transmitted diseases. Hormone levels. Estrogen levels. Menstrual cycles; highs and lows. Every inch of my skin heats, the metal searing my flesh so painfully I fall back against the doorframe.
What feels like electricity surges under the metal covering my arms and legs. My own health stats say I’m updating and I’ll be optimal in less than five minutes.
Static pulses in my ears and waves of light dance through my view.
Behind the lights are the creatures with leaking eye ducts.
I can’t remember why I’m here. Why I’m looking at these women. I’m supposed to be here to find someone, I think. I just don’t know whom.
Under the balls of my feet, I feel a slight tremor of the earth. In the middle of the tin can I’m wearing, I feel the quickening beats of my heart. They’re turning frantic. But I don’t know why.
The crowd of girls gasp in unison. They’re afraid of something. My display lights up bright with shades of blue. One of them drops to the ground and the most gut-wrenching sobs rip up from her small body. Her mouth is open, stretching out harshly over her face. Her neck is corded and her eyes bulge dangerously from her eye sockets. The numbers over her head display a racing pulse and warning words flash in red. Her screams are primal and her oxygen levels seem to be depleting as quickly as the movements of her torso.
Beneath me, the ground shakes violently. The girl’s body convulses with spasms. I still don’t recall why I’m here. I don’t remember what I was supposed to be doing—yet there’s a heaviness to it—an intangible importance.
I’m standing over the crying, writhing girl when someone grasps my arm and whirls me around.
General Rune’s face takes up the entirety of my screen, his faceplate discarded. His irises shine blue, soft. Why would his faceplate be off? Why would he bare his face? Can he not comprehend the danger of these parasites if they attach themselves to your mind—or worse—to your emotions? We need to find healthy females of this species to mate with.
“Kate,” he whispers, bringing his face level to mine. “Take off your faceplate so you can see.”
I try yanking my arm back, but his grip is too strong. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about; he doesn’t understand how dangerous this world is. This is why we’re here. This is why we must fight.
His hand tightens over my arm and the other reaches out toward my jaw. I twist away, rocking my head back, but his hold stays.
