Chapter One
Cade had a crooked smile with missing teeth and a gap between his incisors. The other Almat children would have tormented him for it. It was a mark of imperfection and, therefore, vile in the eyes of the gods.
His teeth were not as offensive as his crippled leg. He was born without a heel and his shin was twisted backward at the knee, causing him much pain. The Almats wanted to kill him before I held him for the first time. Defective, impure children weren’t even fit to be slaves. I stood before my father and listened to him condemn my son before the entirety of my house. There was little sympathy for an Almat mother who couldn’t produce an heir worthy of the family line. My sister Tetra took off her helmet so that I could watch her grin when our father, Lord Helford of the kam Sudi, delivered my punishment without a quiver in his voice. I was to either sacrifice my own son and purify my bloodline, or accept exile. The Omnix would hunt us down for sport. Only my execution would restore the honor I stole from my family.
I chose exile. The human Rebels took me in. They taught me that congenital limbs were common in our era and not worth worrying much about. The world was choking on radiation and all children were welcome miracles no matter their deformities. While hiding among them, their children never gave Cade trouble for the way he was. One girl told him how much she liked his smile. He rarely stopped smiling after that. When I replaced his bad leg with a prosthetic, he was no different from the others with their metal arms, implants, and cybernetic eyes. They were all clockwork children and beautiful in their own way.
The Omnix found us on the tenth anniversary of our exile. Cade was playing on the beach when it happened, wearing the new suit I built to protect from the radiation. Armor covered his shoulders, back, chest, and abdomen, the plates rusty in places. I had to pick through war wreckage for the necessary parts, then modify it as he grew. I was running out of materials and always running low on food.
He was showing the Rebel children his new knife which I crafted from starship debris, the hilt made of Aezied bone: wolf-like beasts synthesized by the Almats to hunt Rebel survivors. “I killed the Aezied myself,” he said. “Snapped its neck with my bare hands.” His friends chimed in with tales of their own about the Amnai, Trin, and Kutkins they defeated…some of the beasts I’d never heard of before.
My own blade was still stained with the Aezid’s blood. I picked at the bandage over the gash on my shoulder left by its claws. “Someday he’ll be strong enough to kill one just as he says in his stories,” I said. “He’ll be a Rebel with Legionite strength. I’m sure of it.”
My husband wrapped his arms around my waist, kissed the side of my cheek. A shiver went up my neck. “Someday he’ll never have to hold a weapon again,” he said. He smelled of smoke and the salve covering burns from yesterday’s raider attack.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “This dream of yours…a house without steel walls, a school where Cade can learn his letters and numbers. You growing fat while I figure out what to do with my idle hands.”
“Where Cade can be safe and you can forget Zale, Tetra, the House, like it’s all a bad dream.”
“Zale,” I said, distantly. “I would like to get rid of that name.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I am still Almat. I will be Almat until the day they stop hunting for me.”
“Our outposts have held strong. Almat forces have stayed out of the village’s range.”
“I know, but–”
“But it’s not enough to put your mind at ease?”
“My mind hasn’t been at ease since I fell for a lowly human slave over a decade ago, had his child, then went into exile with them both.”
We were standing under a crude outpost with our weapons nearby as always. The remains of a human city loomed over the beach. Our village hid within the rot-infested skyscrapers far from the eyes of Almat scouts.
“If you did decide to change your name, what would it be?” my husband said.
“A Rebel name?” I asked.
“Maybe Cricket? Your limbs are so long. And you have bony elbows.”
I shoved him off me, grinning. “No!”
He persisted. “Cicada.”
“I am not a bug!”
“How about something more traditional like Martha?”
I scowled. “Martha’s an old woman’s name.”
“It fits as much as you complain about your aches and pains.”
“And you don’t? Every day it’s: ‘oh, my elbow. Christ, my knee. Zale, will you take my morning patrol?”
He feigned shock, one brow rising beyond the patch he wore across a blind eye. “When have I ever?”
I puffed out my chest and lowered my voice. “I can’t today. I picked a turnip from the garden and strained my back.”
“Says the woman with stomach pains conveniently every time she draws overnight guard. ‘Jack, I can’t. It’s excruciating.” He ridiculed my lingering Almat accent by pitching his tone until his voice cracked, rounding the edges of his words. “The pain…oh, it’s everywhere. Can you take my shift? Just this one?”
I gasped. “I’ve never done that.”
“You did it last night.”
“You lie.”
I tried to push him but he caught my bony elbows and pulled me close. He kissed the space between my brow and then kissed my lips with a smile. I interrupted it to scold my son who was too far away from shore.
Cade leaped a crest, dodging Logan’s lunge. “It’s fine, Mom!” he shouted.
“Get back right now!” I said. A breeze stuck my white hair in my mouth. I hated the color.
The Rebel children thought I was old.
“He’s alright out there,” my husband said. “Just let him play. There’s a sandbar, see?”
I rested my head against his chest. I could barely make out his heartbeat under his armor. "I guess you're right."
There was a zipping noise that sliced the air. Something hit the sand and drilled deep. I thought one of the children had thrown a rock, but no child was strong enough to throw something with that much force.
My sword was the only Almat heirloom I kept. It was by the door, glass blade sheathed. I tore from my husband’s arms to take it up and sprint, undoing my knife from its holster. Caleb snatched up his rifle and jacked in a round. The two of us chopped up the sand with our boots.
"They need to get back," I said. "They need to get back to the beach, now."
Caleb matched my stride. “What’s wrong?”
"Get the children and take cover."
He bowed his head and barreled to the shoreline. I left him behind, light and unburdened by the sand, weightless as the others of my kind.
Cade’s curls bobbed above the waves. He pushed Logan off the sandbar. "Go, start running!" Cade shouted, and they stumbled through the breakers.
Zip. Another spike clipped the wind, landing heavy and three feet ahead. A black arrow-headed spear burrowing into the sand. The Earth around it opened in fissures, sand falling between them in a spider web that grew.
Caleb cursed, reached for Cade. My son made a line to me rather than his father. I swept him off his feet, seawater dripping cold and drenching the fabric between my armor. My husband grabbed the little girl following my son: Farren was her name, the girl who said she liked Cade's prosthetic leg. Logan slipped his hand into mine with his sister in tow. We fled for the dunes.
There was a rush. A shockwave. No sound at first, then a relentless pain in our heads and a ringing in our ears. The beach erupted at our backs.
I drew Cade to my chest and took cover. The dunes protected us from the blast. Tiny beads of rock dented our armor like pieces of shrapnel, sand spraying in our faces and smearing film across our eyes. Some of the children stood up immediately, unfazed by the blast and clear-headed enough to start moving to the bunkers. I remember thinking how cruel it was that they were unafraid. They knew war and nothing else.
Cade tried to wipe the sand off his mouth and nose with sleeves covered in brine. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Get into the brush. Do you understand? Go!"
He sat still, blinking. "Where are you going?"
"With you. Get moving!"
I pushed his head down. We low-crawled to the pepper trees, their spindly branches
poking at our faces, sand flies sticking to our nostrils and buzzing in our ears. The ground hummed with starship engines. The gray sky shimmered with heatwaves. Almat vessels were powerful enough to split the ground with their engines alone.
Our Rebel pilots were ready. Three jets raked the beach with their thrusters, their landing gear still retracting while they struggled to climb above the sound barrier. They ran on recycled fuel and ethanol, limping from wounds gained in the war and forever in disrepair. "A good pilot doesn't have to trust their ship," the Rebels would say. "They just have to trust that their weapon systems won't engage before they're supposed to."
I didn't find that very comforting. Since then, I've kept my feet on the ground.
The trees rustled with the pounding of Rebel boots racing to the beach, their olive-colored suits camouflaging with the brush. Xae, a woman I knew well as a soldier and a friend, came to take Cade from me. Clockwork pieces chewed up the left side of her face, the remaining skin burned. She had survived many battles.
"How many are there?" I asked her. "Did you see?"
"Our scanners picked up one," she said.
"One what? Only one ship? That's abnormal."
The sky opened up and roared. We tossed ourselves to the ground and shielded our heads, keeping Cade between us. The beach lit up red. Debris fell like meteors from the clouds and pitched into the sea, stirring up the waves.
I dragged Cade to his feet and brushed the straw off his suit. "What went down?" I heard a Rebel say. "Was it one of ours?"
"I don't think so, it sounded big." I pushed Cade into Xae's arms. Caleb was a few steps behind her and looking at me for orders. "Get them to the bunkers,” I said. “Don't evacuate the city unless the sky is clear. Until then, get everybody underground."
Cade fought his way to me. "Mom, you're leaving?"
I took his face in my palms. "I'll be back soon, I promise. Go to the safehouses. Be brave."
He crumbled and sobbed and clawed at his stomach. I kissed his dirty cheeks and lied that it would be okay, told him I loved him a hundred times and promised I’d see him soon. Then I told Xae to take him from me.
Caleb went with them to protect the bunkers. I readied my blades and ran toward the sounds of gunfire.
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