Renegade: The Ten Sigma Series Book 2 Read online

Scattered squeaks and shuffles come as the sparse crowd complies. When Samantha taps my shoulder, I sink into my chair too.

  The Chief Justice looks to the President. “Is the President here to use his executive powers as granted by the Constitution?”

  He shakes his head, saying in a voice that resonates far larger than his frame, “No, I’m here as an observer. Your decision will stand for these proceedings.”

  “Very well,” she replies. She grabs the gavel and slams it down with a loud clack.

  “This tribunal will come to order.”

  The huge entry doors close with a thud.

  In a commanding tone, Allison Taylor says, “Because of the nature of this proceeding, all comments and evidence presented here shall be top secret, compartmentalized under Executive Order H20S567. Due to the clearances involved, I am the sole arbiter of this decision.” She leans toward the bailiff. “Get the first witness.”

  As he hustles past, I battle feelings of inadequacy. The most powerful people in the country are deciding my fate.

  A moment passes before I straighten. None of them has passed or ever will pass anything like the Ten Sigma Program.

  It’s both my curse and my blessing.

  As the afternoon passes, the sunlight pouring into the chamber angles while a parade of people—scientists from New Austin as well as Dr. Sims and his staff—give testimony.

  During this time, the gray-dressed court functionaries buzz around, handling evidence and herding witnesses. There are also muted conversations between the government officials and the Chief Justice of which I only catch words like defective, ninety-nine bodies, difficult, and fixable—none of which inspire me with confidence.

  Jonathon, who appears out of his depth and nervous, tries to be as unhelpful as possible on the stand. Although not convinced of his acting ability, I silently applaud the effort.

  Curiously, nobody asks me anything. In keeping with Jonathon’s advice, I don’t volunteer any information, playing the role of innocent bystander. However, my gaze constantly wanders to the seat next to me, which remains empty.

  Do I even have a defense counsel?

  As the daylight wanes, the glare over the top of the chamber fades. Skyboxes covered by glossy windows and black curtains lie just under the ceiling, almost a part of the very heavens. While I wonder who could be in those places, my imagination pictures important guests peering down at the proceedings.

  When Victoria is called, she gives a cool, completely factual account. My stomach sinks further as the Chief Justice dismisses her with a frown.

  Trust Victoria…

  The thought rings hollow.

  Victoria walks past without making eye contact—another bad sign.

  Cologne wafts over the area as Balthazar marches to the stand. After being sworn in, he gives a stack of parchment to a court functionary, who runs the evidence up to the Chief Justice. She plops the stack down and glances through the top sheets. A scowl crosses her face. She leans over the side of the bench where she and Balthazar use their hands to hide their lips and exchange whispers.

  When they finish, she asks him several pointed questions. Although I understand little of the jargon, my stomach sinks.

  This isn’t going in my favor.

  I look over my shoulder to Victoria, who sits blank-faced in the middle of the audience section and doesn’t acknowledge my stare.

  Peter, on the other hand, sends a silly grin.

  Not feeling any better, I turn back to the proceedings.

  The bailiff opens the gate to the witness box, and Balthazar steps out, finished ruining my real-world life with his testimony. Like Victoria, he marches past, staring straight ahead.

  I pinch my nose, avoiding his stench.

  When the last witness finishes, only the reds of dusk drift from the ceiling.

  Bathed in the glow of gaslights, Allison Taylor reviews the evidence scattered in front of her.

  While the onlookers shift uncomfortably from the long proceedings, I remain motionless, fighting to control a budding fear.

  After several minutes pass, the Chief Justice finally glances past the piles of parchment. She raps the gavel. “Well, I don’t see why we should wait. There is enough evidence to render a judgment.”

  I lean forward as her voice rings over the hushed crowd.

  “As the Secretary of Defense has so eloquently stated, ten sigmas are the bulwark of our national security. Without them guarding the borders against internal and external threats, disasters like New Austin would become commonplace. No ten sigma has ever been defeated or unsuccessful in a given task. They are a scarce resource that we need more of…

  “Before this moment, there has never been a reason to doubt their prowess.”

  Her eyes center on me.

  “Until now.”

  I will my face to remain stoic, like a good ten sigma.

  “To assist these assets in being so formidable, much of our technology has been created assuming the perfect functioning of these beings. This new ten sigma is quite clearly flawed.

  “As an impartial justice, ruling for what’s best for this country, I must consider the value against the risk such a being could impose on our current infrastructure. Given the circumstances, there is no easy decision.”

  She takes a deep breath as I hold mine.

  “I rule this defective asset is irreparable. It shall be destroyed tomorrow at dawn.”

  The gavel comes down.

  What did I just hear?

  From the audience section, Peter leaps to his feet. “She’s a ten sigma. This is some mistake.”

  Samantha’s eyes dart in confusion before she says, “Peter, please.”

  Ekton turns to them. “Both of you, quiet.”

  The manacles clink as I twist to Jonathon, who returns a bewildered stare.

  Victoria charges through the wooden gate and rushes to the lectern. “Justice Taylor, ten sigmas are vital to the national defense.”

  The Chief Justice leans forward. “This is not about value. This is about our lack of control over this one.”

  Victoria turns to the Executive Grandstand. “Mr. President.”

  The thin man gives her a dull stare, refusing to respond to the plea.

  Instead, the Chief Justice provides the answer. “The Executive Branch has already ceded its override authority.”

  “Wait, don’t I get to speak?” I say, pushing the chair back and rising.

  The room goes silent.

  I force myself to stand straight against the withering stares of the crowd.

  At this point, I have nothing to lose…

  The Chief Justice grabs a sheaf of parchment. She waves it in my direction and says, “This is the contract you agreed to when you entered the program. You are the property of the United States of America. You have none of the rights of a citizen. You do not have any right to due process.”

  Stunned, my legs wobble.

  The gavel slams again, and the Chief Justice says in a quiet but commanding tone, “This proceeding is over. Any other outbursts will result in contempt of court charges. The asset is to be remanded to its cell, and my judgment carried out at dawn.”

  I glance at Victoria.

  She meets my stare, giving small shakes of her head. “Not now,” she mouths, gesturing toward the doorway with her finger.

  Ekton and Samantha grab my shoulders and practically carry me past the shocked spectators and from the courtroom.

  Minutes later, I’m returned to my prison, still in a daze.

  Did that just happen?

  Neither Samantha nor Ekton says a word while they pull off my restraints. After I change back into my orange outfit, they leave without a goodbye, closing the door with a foreboding clang.

  As their retreating steps fade, I sit on the bed in the dim glows of the gaslights, staring at the motionless black knights on the balconies.

  Several minutes elapse before I push past my bewilderment, and my being fills with resolve.<
br />
  I didn’t retain my humanity through the hardships of the Ten Sigma Program only to be executed for being defective property.

  I’m not going down without a fight.

  Twenty-Five

  The air whooshes from my lungs when I hit the damp sand of my nightmare.

  High above, beyond the clouds and cubes, glowing bits of data about the New District of Columbia stream higher.

  No time to waste.

  Ignoring the pleas from my bruised muscles, I roll onto my hands and knees, coughing.

  Distant splashes come as I struggle to regain my breath.

  My eyes dart past the sharp-edged plants, searching the black shrouds hanging over the landscape, trying to find the bald giant and violet-eyed girl.

  I freeze.

  The spot where Syd should be is empty.

  Not good. Not good.

  A howl rises above the cracking thunder.

  Terrified, I wobble to my feet. When shuffles come from my left, I lurch to the right. Provided there are no tricks, I only need to survive until the control mechanism forces me to leave.

  The bald giant steps into the moonlight.

  I stagger in the other direction, but the violet-eyed girl cuts across my path. As my heart skips a beat, she leaps at me, hands outstretched.

  Still gasping for air, I lumber toward the river, my feet scraping over the sand at a glacial pace.

  The bald giant sprints and catches my shoulder.

  I twist from his grasp, tumbling. Before I hit the ground, a metallic leaf slices my arm.

  My scream gets choked off when the violet-eyed girl slaps her palm over my mouth. As she yanks me upright, pinning my arms behind my back, the bald giant steps in front of me, filling my vision with his broad face. He grabs my hair and raises his fist.

  Splashes rush toward us.

  Syd.

  From beyond the bald giant, a form shoots into view, and metal glints. The giant twists his head at the last second. The plant leaf spears through his mouth and out the back of his neck, splattering blood over my face.

  I jump and kick with both legs against his slumping body, blasting into the violet-eyed girl. We crumple in a tangle of limbs.

  An angry Syd steps over the fallen form of the giant.

  I free myself from my female nemesis with an elbow and claw my way up a rise, terrified.

  While the two AI models are torturing me to force any notions of returning to this place from my mind, Syd radiates pure malevolence. He’s coming for revenge.

  Syd plunges the leaf into the neck of the violet-eyed girl. Blood spews, and after she hits the ground, gurgling softly, he tilts his head, fixing his good eye on me with a curious, corner-eyed stare.

  The same eerie expression I received from the bald giant and violet-eyed girl.

  He advances with a malice-laden smile, and I abandon the useless thought and stagger away. When Syd reaches the top of the rise, he smashes his hand through another plant. Still angling his head to follow me with the strange stare, he picks up another flora dagger and marches in my direction.

  I stomp on the flat of a nearby leaf, which disintegrates into powder.

  Syd nears, raising the crude blade into the moonlight, and I groan, setting my strides into a full-fledged flight.

  I only need to survive a few seconds longer.

  As I run, curving around rows of plants, Syd follows the direct route, his armor destroying every sharp edge or obstacle in his path.

  A plant cuts my shin.

  I tumble, jamming my shoulder into a shallow ridge.

  Syd rushes at me and swipes as I force myself up. The point slices over my bicep, and I grimace.

  He really means to kill me.

  I reverse and stumble down the slope, heading toward the glowing green threads in the distance.

  Syd chases, wildly swinging the deadly length of flora, and scores a deep cut down my back.

  As I scream, a distant rumble comes, and the donut-shaped wave rises from the boundaries of the map.

  Only a few seconds more.

  A stab buries into my shoulder.

  I wince from the sharp pain but keep moving. If I can only get to the water, Syd won’t be able to pursue in his armor.

  Syd dives, clutching his fingers around my ankle and knocking me off-balance.

  I crash, rolling to the edge of the river, just short of the protecting plants.

  From past my foot, his hand rises, and the bloody leaf glints in the moonlight.

  Just before he stabs down, I claw at the sand to pull myself away.

  Pain spikes through my heel, and agony rolls up my leg.

  I grit my teeth, stifling a shriek.

  The unstoppable, malevolent force that is Syd grabs another leaf and stands, covering me with his long shadow. His head tilts, and he stares from the corner of his good eye as he raises his new gleaming knife for the final blow.

  Terror-stricken, I bring my hands up to protect my face.

  The tsunami of land and water blasts into me, and I whirl and tumble toward the center of the map.

  A moment later, the donut-shaped ridge implodes and spikes skyward, rocketing my trembling form into the heavens.

  I awaken with a start, clutching at my chest and gasping for air.

  Syd.

  Shivers rack my body while my mind pictures my worst nightmares springing from the lurking shadows.

  Moments pass before slivers of rational thought erode the terror.

  I shove myself into a sitting position. While my heart hammers against my ribcage, I focus on the metal frame of the bed, taking deep breaths. Beyond the yellow gleams creasing the bars, nothing moves in the darkness gathered between the gaslights.

  I’m in my cell, and nobody is stalking me.

  With a long exhale, I draw my legs into my chest and wrap my arms around my shins.

  I almost didn’t come back.

  Syd’s waiting, and the next time, I have no doubt he’ll kill me.

  Which means I’ll die in my own mind.

  A sigh of relief spills from my lips as the blueprints of the immediate area enter my head. The effort, no matter how dangerous, was worth it.

  I have what I need.

  On the right, near the end of the hall, a fake panel lies, hiding an access tunnel. The tube leads past some gas lines and into an old sewer system. Many tunnels crawl under the original city and connect to the new area. With the construction, none are under surveillance yet.

  From there, I can reach a supply depot where underground trams load. I’ll find the right cargo and leave this awful place.

  I nibble on a thumbnail.

  There’s one problem.

  My eyes flick to the bolted doorway and the motionless figures above.

  There’s no way to get out of the cell and put my plan in motion.

  I rub my temples. I’ll have to break past the guards when they come for me. If I can only grab a rifle…

  The first grays of the new day touch the dome, signaling my time is almost up.

  How will they come? Black knights surrounding the cell and shooting? A lethal injection? Any one of a hundred ways is possible.

  I flex my fists. Going out meekly is not an option.

  Whoever comes for me will be in for the battle of their lives.

  Twenty-Six

  When the sunlight stabs straight down from the dome, I’m still in the cell, waiting. Not only hasn’t a gaggle of executioners appeared, nobody has.

  Given the martial nature present in the New District of Columbia, dawn means when the sun rises. Not sometime after breakfast, not during the morning, and definitely not at high noon.

  Puzzled, I lie on the bed, chewing a nail, while my frustrations build from anticipating every stray noise as the approach of my final doom.

  Finally, after the day slides into mid-afternoon, footsteps clack on the hard floor.

  I will myself not to look, to make the person enter the cell and give me my chance to escape
.

  A minute later, cologne taints the air.

  “Hello, Mary,” Balthazar says.

  I blow out a breath and sit up.

  When he stops an arm’s length from the bars, I rise and march to the entryway.

  “I trust you’ve had a pleasant day,” he says.

  My eyes focus on the empty space behind him, and I reply, not trusting the too-good-to-be-true situation, “No guards?”

  He holds up his hands in mock surprise. “You thought I was going to carry out the judgment?”

  I frown. “Then why are you here?”

  “It seems you have a friend who believes you have too much value to be destroyed.”

  “So…”

  “Your elimination has been postponed. At least temporarily…”

  I send him a bored stare while he waits for a reaction.

  A few moments pass before he shrugs. “This might be only a mere delay. Higher-ups are working on resolving the issue. Is there anything else you want to mention about how useful you could be?”

  Knowing a no-win situation when I see one, I reply, “If anything comes to mind, I’ll let you know.”

  When he tries to wait me out again, I send a faint smile, imagining smashing through the bars and twisting his neck.

  He coughs, saying, “In that case, do tell me if you think of anything.”

  “Of course. Is there anything else you wanted from me?”

  For an answer, he swivels and marches away.

  As he walks through the angled sunlight and past the hidden panel to the old sewer system, I silently curse at myself for antagonizing him.

  With my chances for escape already hovering between slim and non-existent, I really don’t need any more scrutiny.

  Or enemies…

  When the cloudy grays filling the upper windows slip into the colorful hues of sunset, a soft padding heralds another guest.

  “Hello, Peter,” I say from the bed, staring at the metal ceiling lattice of the cell.

  He chuckles. “I wanted to sneak up on you.”

  I rise with a roll of my eyes. While I’m glad for the company, the last time he snuck up on me, things didn’t turn out so well.