Cyberblade: The City of Five Skies

By William Z. Stone

Dive into the dystopian world of Neo Mars!

 

Lex, a part-time roboticist from a family of Empyrean refugees, is the lone hope of her family to overcome Graexian oppression and earn them a place above the steel skies, where the air is clean, and the people rich.

 

Yet when every

• Language: English
• Publisher: Livebook Publishing
• Release date: Nov 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648975601

William Z. Stone

William Z Stone is a Melbourne based author, with a decade of story-crafting experience, years of book-writing experience, and whose career began in the Australian wildfires. Inspired by the ash blanketing the sky, and the weather forecasts each day measuring the toxicity of the air, William began writing dystopian science-fiction. The 2020 Covid-19 epidemic swept through Melbourne, and left William without work, and without certainty in the future. Using the government-mandated isolation as further inspiration, William worked on Cyberblade full time, before releasing the title in November 2020.

Book preview

1

Solar Year 12,674

I heard that the sky is blue, said a student in a white toga.

"Nah uh, it’s green," her classmate replied. Noticing Lex’s red eyes watching from behind them, the pair wrinkled their noses and lowered their voices.

The clotmop looked at us.

An Empyrean, gross.

Lex dug her elbows into the cracked plastic desk, jaw tense. All around her, other students pulled down rusty wirehelms to cover the top half of their heads, while cords of thrumming blue light snaked down from the ceiling to connect them to the public network.

At the front of their classroom, Mrs Agincourt’s hologram flickered. Broadcasting from all the way Upstairs, the transmission grew hazy as it reached deep below the surface of Neo Mars and to Lex’s school, Hera High.

Forcing herself to breathe slower, Lex readjusted the clingy grey toga along her bony body and pulled down her wirehelm. As the nest of circuits and iron swallowed her view, she plugged a cable into the back of her neck.

[ Simulation: start ]

Lex blinked and appeared within a tower of rotating gears. Two men sat on tall thrones, a crimson gear spinning between them. Lex found herself sitting on a steel chair, her sandalled feet sinking into soft silver sand, while the walls of machines clacked and cranked around her.

Name? said the zealot wearing the storm-eyed mask of Zeus and speaking with all the weight of Neo Mars.

Alexandra Vulcan. Lex squinted as the simulated wind stung her eyes.

Birth date and place?

12 th of Scorpio, solar year 12,657. Lex twisted her family ring around her forefinger. Round and round. Empyrean Republic. A cold wind bit at her neck, Lex pulling up her thick cloth to protect herself against the bitter breeze.

The zealot looked aside to his mirror-masked partner.

There’s no need for an interrogation, said the man with the reflective mask. We’re just going to ask you the standard questions, and then you can go back to class.

The highborn’s mask reflected Lex’s nervous smile.

For Floor Lord D’Quan’s register, could you please state your address? The highborn opened his palms outward like the temple statues.

Second Floorer, Empyre District, 4 th/9 th street, Vulcantech.

Be patient. Don’t let them rattle you.

Have you ever been associated with a gang, cult or union? the D’Quan servant said pleasantly. The Zeus zealot sat watching. Waiting.

Never show disrespect.

No, sir. I have not. She stared into her reflection, her red eyes steady, as if the long days of staring into the forge had turned her stare to steel.

Have you ever been associated with a rebel cell? Attended a dissident meeting? Donated to an unregulated cause?

Never show fear. Fear makes protectors feel powerful.

Never, Highborn. Wouldn’t dream of it. If Lex had enough credits to do any of that she’d have spent it on droid parts already.

Have you ever thought violently of Troezen or the Still King? he asked as if she could throw a solid punch without risking a heart attack.

Gods be good. I’d never thought in such a manner, Lex said, a hand pressed to her chest, eyes wide. She hoped it didn’t seem forced, but she’d never been much of an actor, unlike Bell.

Alex, he said warmly. Do you mind if I call you Alex?

Lex shook her head.

"Excellent, you can call me Mr Karras. Alex, you know why you are here. We know why you are here. So, what have you prepared for us?"

She could imagine the highborn’s picture-perfect smile, soft as lamplight. She felt the dark clouds gathering behind the Zeus zealot’s mask. Lex was glad not to be alone with the priest, not when he could ruin her family’s future with the tick of a box.

My family sacrificed seven squib, seven squibrats and seven hundred credits to the Second Floor Temple of Zeus, Lex said and swiped the air.

Opening her HUD, she brought the receipt into the simulation to appear in the priest’s waiting hand. She hoped she’d chosen wisely, especially after her grandma, Maggie, pointed out that Lex went to Hera High, and that it may be better to offer their prayers to the god of family, tradition and women, rather than the Sparkfather. But Lex had never been on good terms with Hera the Allmother, not after she failed to protect Lex’s own.

To prove my dedication to the Still King, I’ve memorised the periodic table, coded a custom API and built a humanoid droid that I direct-coded myself, Lex answered clear as filtered water and ‘forgot’ to mention the droid was built for battle. I also have a Connection Coefficient of 148, which helped with the direct-coding. Her smug smile cracked through her stern mask, like the golden rays of sunshine breaking past the morning clouds.

Well, uh, your CC is certainly very high. Karras nodded. But perhaps you have some more … fitting accomplishments for a young woman?

Lex’s brows knit together. I’ve also been practising the Troezen Enginestate Anthem. A foolish waste of time that was. Knitting. She could not knit. Cooking. Although she was terrible at it.

Karras relaxed his shoulders. Bell had mentioned they would like these things. Her ability to build killing machines was a skill that threatened what some considered the ideal mould of a Troezen girl.

Bell had said something else, but what had it been? What was the most important thing? The devilish detail was as difficult to remember as escaping Hades with no more than a hairpin and half a ream of dental floss.

Perhaps we should start with the Troezen Anthem—oh? Karras froze; Lex stiffened too. My apologies, something has come up within the D’Quan family. The representative from the Second Floor Temple of Zeus will take over your interview from here. Good luck, I pray your mind is plasma pure. Karras nodded as if sure she had nothing to hide.

Highborn, before you—

Karras melted into a rainbow puddle of data and exited the simulation. That just left Lex and the Zeus zealot. The twisting gears brightened around her to shine like an interrogator’s lamp and forced Lex to shield her eyes.

You are of Empyrean blood. The priest spat as if Lex was a cockroach that had scuttled under his wirehelm. There are over a million citizens in Undercity who’d give their right hand to make it Upstairs. Why should I choose an Empyrean over a good, gods-fearing Graexian?

I’m a roboticist apprentice to my grandfather, Brackus Vulcan, and we’re no normal Empyreans, we were once highborn, Lex said, a fire in her belly. She cursed her restless nights, too worried to get a wink of sleep. But what was the most important thing? I speak Graexian fluently, and I’m a true believer in the gods.

The priest stood tall, his navy-blue cloth regal and stitched with neon red lightning.

The wrong gods. We call him Hephaestus the Forgeheart, you call him Vulcan. We call him Zeus the Sparkfather, you call him Jupiter. We call her Aphrodite the Blissweaver, you call her Venus.

I don’t, Lex said, an edge to her tone. I was born in the Empyrean Republic, but I was raised here in Troezen and I use the gods’ true names. Lex didn’t mind praying to Zeus or Jupiter or the Sparkfather, for they were one and the same. Such was Empyre truth. I pray like a good Graexian girl and study as the Still King directs.

Perhaps. Let us find out. He turned and walked to the nearest wall of thumping gears. With me, girl.

Lex shot to her feet and followed him across the trembling sands.

I want to show you another simulation. Do you agree to this change? He did not turn to her and left Lex staring at the back of his head, his Graexian-brown curls thick as terminal wires.

I do, Lex said. There was no choice here. I, Alexandra Vulcan, agree to have our simulated setting change in any way necessary to complete my interview.

Nodding, the priest raised a hand. Towers erupted from the sands and the clockwork sky transformed into shining steel. In a flash, they appeared in the streets of Troezen’s Second Floor. The citizens in familiar, regulation-grey togas bustled through stores, and neon signs glowed overhead, as Lex was presented with her home district.

An automated car loses control, the priest said, the pair flying above the crowd as a white car raced through the streets below. The vehicle must either run down a young Empyrean boy or an elderly Graexian woman.

What? Lex exclaimed as two people appeared far down the road, an old grey-haired woman with a cane, and a strapping young man with blood-red eyes and hair.

This is a choice you may have to make as a servant of the highborn. The priest clapped his hands and Lex appeared in the driver’s seat. The car roared towards the Empyrean boy, a lever in the seat beside her, the words ‘Pull to Stop’ along the shaft.

Lex turned her family ring. Pull the lever, or not. Run down the boy, or the old woman. Graexian or Empyrean. Familiar or foreign. Time slowed, her mind raced and, as the car hurtled closer, she decided.

Lex yanked the lever, the car swerving into the old woman, her toothless mouth screaming as her legs were shredding against the road. When she slipped beneath the tires, Lex felt a bone-tingling bump before the car was zooming down and away. Her eyes turned to the rear-vision mirror to see a long red stain stretch behind, the street lights flickering, the onlookers shuffling past without comment.

Lex gasped. The image of the woman’s terror seared into her retina. She could still hear her scream. Her chest filled with stabbing pains like red-hot nails.

An Empyrean girl is happy and healthy, the priest’s voice echoed.

Please, don’t, Lex whispered, the scene peeling away to reform as a surgery room. Her eyes flittered to the tools—sharp, shining, pointed—presented on a flat metal tray. Her hands covered in red surgical gloves.

"She has committed no crime, but has failed to produce children, while her death would provide the organs needed to save three Graexian mothers. Do you kill the woman, or do you let her live and condemn the dying women to be taken by Thanatos?"

A desk appeared. Lex read a file detailing a young girl, Dulcea, with bright Empyrean eyes and hair carefully woven into a thick Empyrean braid. On the left sat three thick files for the Graexian women: Zoey, a heavy smoker; Cora, a relapsed drug addict; and Maya, a survivor of a suicide attempt.

Lex furrowed her brows and thought fast. She chose quickly. I save Dulcea, because she hasn’t done anything wrong; she isn’t responsible for the others’ choices. Zoey had Ash Lung, Cora had slowly been killing her liver for over seven orbits and Maya didn’t even want to live. Dulcea did not make the choices that would lead to her death. Hades should not be denied the souls of those who live without discipline.

Good, the priest said, reappearing before her. He nodded.

Lex smiled as she sighed with relief.

Now tell that to their families.

A crowd burst into the room, and Lex stared up with moon-wide eyes. Red-haired men and women thanked her through waterfalls of happy tears while a horde of Graexians waved their hands and beat their chests.

They cried, they grasped her wrists, they begged Lex to change her mind, and offered their bodies, wealth and prayers as bribes. A little girl stood in the corner as the lights overhead flicked on and off. Lex froze; screams in one ear, joy in the other. Love and curses. Fists and hugs.

When is Mummy coming home? the little girl whispered, with searching, almond-brown eyes. Mummy wanted to stop smoking, but now she’s sick. Will my mummy come home tomorrow?

Her hands squeezed at her sky-blue skirt, her eyes flashing between the enraged adults around her.

She was just getting better, is she coming home soon? Her lips trembled. Is she?

The girl was as small as Lex’s little sister.

Enough! Lex yelled, but they continued to argue, plead and bargain. Servant of Zeus, please, this is enough!

Catch. The priest threw a dagger aimed at her heart.

In a flash, Lex caught the blade and snarled. Her blood running cold as the simulation froze. The people faded into an endless sea of white.

Remember: the most important thing is to hide your true colours.

The priest nodded, satisfied.

I told you when we were looking at her file that the thousands of hours spent in Tengokuan battle simulations would make her dangerous. The girl has been training herself to fight, the priest said to the air. She worships Ares the Bloodyhanded too fervently to ever be allowed to represent us Upstairs. Lex was lost for words. Her battle sims should have been well hidden from government surveillance.

She’d built the circuit-junction herself to make her data hard to track.

But not impossible.

Karras reappeared beside the priest and presented his palms to Lex. That’s all for today, Miss Vulcan, you can return to your classroom now. Thank you for your answers.

Wait, Lex said, pretending to let the knife fumble through her fingers. What now? Are there any more questions? She was smiling too wide—a nervous smile.

Do we have any more questions? Karras asked, looking to the priest. The priest shook his head. The Highborn sighed as if that was the last thing he wanted to hear. "Then, the interview is complete. On behalf of the Department of Purity and Floor Lord D’Quan, I hope you have a wonderful day. All hail Troezen."

All hail Troezen, the priest chanted.

All hail Troezen, Lex spat.

She was ejected from the sim and landed back in her classroom, gasping stale air, her ratty toga swamped in cold sweat. She relaxed her death grip on the cracked desk. She’d failed, her family was doomed.

She’d never see the sky again.

Lex ran her hands through her sweat-drenched hair and to the wirehelm on the top half of her head. The back of her neck was burning, her HUD flickering with text.

[ Disconnection: Complete ]

Lex pulled the wirehelm away, the bundle of cords and steel slinking up into the dusty ceiling. She groaned and pushed cold fingers against her heat-flushed face. The neural port seared as it detached from her neck, the dregs of dancing data crashing through her mind.

Her slate had burned out.

The other students beamed at one another, discussing their questions. Mrs Agincourt’s hologram demanded silence at the front of the class. An entire day of school to go, but what was the point? She’d lost—all those orbits of study were for nothing.

Sparkfather’s beard, Lex whispered and slumped against the desk. She’d failed, and her family was doomed.

2

Deviant Protector

The day was long and slow, but as the last class came to an end, the school horn blew through the halls. Lex waited until Mrs Agincourt’s hologram winked out and the last student left the class for a familiar shadow to appear by the door.

Sighing, Lex swung on her backpack and made for the exit. She winced as she entered the hall, her hand clutching her chest.

Your heart? Bell asked, her warm brown eyes glancing at Lex’s chest. Lex nodded and rubbed her sweat-slicked forehead. Do you need your medicine?

Lex gritted her teeth and trudged down the hall. Bell followed, curly brown hair neatly plaited and pristine white toga coloured by the bright, neon signs that shone through the windows. She was olive-skinned, always smiling and painfully beautiful.

Come on, Bell said, flashing her teeth. Where does it hurt?

You’re not a doc, Lex said, smiling back. My head mainly, she admitted. The simulation cooked my slate—it’s still burning.

Cold fingers slid down Lex’s neck, and she yelped as Bell pushed her back against a locker. She tried to resist, yet her illness drained her limbs of strength.

Let go, Lex said stiffly, even though Bell’s cool hands were soothing. It’s not Empyre proper. Bell never was. She fussed over Lex like the strays she fostered from the street. Stop.

Bell grinned as she stepped back with both hands in the air.

I was cold—you were hot, Bell said, puffing white steam as the windows grew foggy with frost. The sprawling city, steel sky and distant underground all lost under a blurred film. Let’s go before we freeze to death.

The hallway was ice cold. The Lord Principle of Hera High said it stopped homeless students camping in empty classrooms, but this was just cruel. He could have at least adjusted the dress-code to allow for puffer jackets, stockings, vests or anything other than stupid Graexian togas.

Lex followed Bell down the hall to where a lone protector shivered at the school exit. A FLEX baton was holstered at his waist, his shirt and pants made of white and bronze scales with the Royal Medusa stamped on the front, while his helmet lay on the table beside the scanner and terminal.

The protector turned; his eyes hidden behind a mop of curled brown hair and smiled with rotten yellow teeth.

All hail Troezen, he said.

Lex and Bell swaddled cloth between their thighs like a diaper. It was embarrassing, but all the students covered their privates on the way out. All the girls at least.

All hail Troezen, Lex said through gritted teeth.

Lex allowed the search, even though she knew about the camera in his shoe. Everyone did. But it was the hungry hands at her hips and chest that dredged up thoughts of beating him bloody.

That’s enough, Lex hissed. Being this close was un-Empyrean, and he was taking his sweet time. I said, enough. Empyre truth, she’d cut off his balls.

No, he said, his acidic breath stinging her eyes. Balling her hands to fists, Lex fought down her rage. A hand down her front was better than a lifetime in Fourth as an Eros, shovelling plasma and piss until she died.

I’m confiscating this, the protector said, and pulled out her Maketonian screwdriver. Don’t bring weapons into school. Now you can pay the normal fine, or the joystick fine, it’s your choice. He grinned wider as he pressed his pelvis closer.

I’m a roboticist, Lex said fiercely. Why should I pay for my tools?

The protector froze; his lips twisted into a sneer.

Do Empyrean parents teach no manners, clotmop? he spat as if she were the disrespectful one. Perhaps your household needs a purity test? He waved her screwdriver at her, the silver mark of Maketonia shining at the handle. "Besides, there are no girl mechanics. If you can at least admit that, then I might let this slide."

She saw it in his eyes; he wanted her to beg.

"Ro-bot-ic-ist," Lex said, stressing each syllable.

All hail Troezen—is it my turn? Bell said and moved Lex along while opening her arms suggestively. Her confidence was nothing new, but amidst her black anger, Lex wondered how Bell was keeping her cool.

The protector’s greedy hands turned ravenous, and his snake eyes shone yellow through greasy hair. He positioned his right foot beneath Bell, the one with the optic. Lex saw the terminal screen flash, a window opening to a group Nmail with his fellow perverts.

While Lex could stand humiliation, seeing her best, and only, friend forced to act like a Third Floor whore burst a valve in Lex’s brain, a volcanic hatred spilling into her soul. Planting her feet, Lex threw a fist between his legs—the protector squealing as he fell back. Lex picked up her screwdriver and stepped up to the terminal.

She grinned as she found his terminal both unlocked and connected to his HUD, his info, his Nmail and a ‘trophy’ folder. The username for it all was ‘Manny Grave’.

You scaeg, Manny hissed, his hands cradling his bruised balls. You low floorer, clotmop whoring, dirty, tweaking scaeg!

This is your own fault, Manny, Lex said and changed his password to ‘N0Ball$’. Next, she deleted today’s security data. Lastly, she opened his Nmail chain titled ‘Check Out These’ with an album of explicit pictures dating seven months back. She grouped all his contacts, including the academy board and the parent-teacher network, then re-sent the Nmail chain as a group message.

She added a hasty second Nmail titled ‘URGENT!!!’ begging the receivers not to open the first. She claimed the protector had been hacked. She claimed an Empyrean student had beaten him up. A little girl.

With a ten-second gap between the two, Lex didn’t expect anyone to believe him. They would think he sent the first Nmail by accident and then tried to cover it up. If he tried to call anyone now and tell them the truth, it would only reinforce their initial reaction.

Lex was struck in the ribs. It was a sluggish fist, with thuggish grace and improper form, but it sent her small body flying. Her face smacked against a frost-sprinkled wall, and warm, wet blood flowed from cracked lips.

You’re going to pay for that, scaeg, Manny said. Wiping the blood from her mouth, Lex looked up at the snarling man as his hand grasped at his empty holster. Huh?

A crackle of electricity, and Manny dropped like a doll. Bell was already cleaning the handle of the FLEX baton with her toga by the time Lex registered what she’d done. Bell slid the cleaned baton back in his holster. She was always looking after Lex; even when Bell had briefly dated Lex’s older brother, Mike, she had spent half their dates checking up on her.

He’ll be out for a few minutes—we should get going. Bell moved to the terminal and logged out. Before someone comes. She wiped the terminal keys clean too.

Then offered Lex a hand.

Declining, Lex got up using her own meagre strength, even if her ribs throbbed.

Poseidon’s pride, Bell said, dabbing the blood from Lex’s face. "Forget your Empyrean issues with touching people for a moment and let me help you." Wiping away the last flecks, Bell draped her arm lightly around Lex’s waist.

Stiffening, Lex nodded, even if it was far too close for comfort.

Thank you, Lex mumbled, her cheeks burning as they shuffled through the sliding doors together, and into the carpark where hot, dusty Undercity air brushed against them like lover’s lips.

Don’t mention it, Bell said. I have to jet now, work starts soon, and you need to get home and get some rest. Remember to put an ice pack on your ribs and busted lip.

Lex frowned. About the protector—

Don’t worry about him, Bell said, staring Lex straight in the eyes. We’ll only be back in a few days for our Offers. Then we’re gone forever. Besides, I’d be surprised if we ever see Sir Sour-breath again.

Lex smiled, then pulled away, forming the proper distance. How about we celebrate our last test? Lex smiled wider, hope welling in her that this time she would say yes. We could go hang out in Third later this cycle, go to Club Delphine or Crimson Arcade …

She trailed off as Bell grimaced.

I’d love to go—you know I would—having a date with my best friend would mean the world to me, but I can’t. I’ve got work every day this cycle—

Feeling like an empty barrel left to rot, Lex held up a hand to stop her. There were seven days in a cycle, and if Bell was busy for all of them, then she could take the hint.

You’ve got work, I understand, Lex said, feeling the blow deeper than usual. Every rejection had hurt, but this time she’d been so certain … Jet off, you’ll be late.

Don’t hover around here. Head straight home, be safe, have your medicine ready. Bell paused, then made Lex suffer under a warm hug. Get better soon.

Parting, Bell ran past the pylon beside Hera High, the beam of blue plasma piercing the steel sky above. Lex gazed up at the dozens of plasma towers along the horizon, each carrying the precious fuel of the modern age, and the purpose of their city-sized engine. The pylons were like the arteries of Troezen, and should they ever freeze or falter, the enginestate would collapse into ruin.

In return for Troezen’s lifeblood, veins of rusted, ill-maintained and failing ventilation pipes carried precious air down into Undercity. One hissing pipe streaked past the school, a crack in the steel blowing crisp surface air against Lex’s face. Even a few puffs put her at ease and replaced her mental fog with clarity. In the furthest streets, she noted the yellow lights of a mechanic’s truck roaring down the road towards the damaged pipe; nothing got the highborn in gear faster than citizens breathing for free.

When Bell’s silhouette vanished into the dark streets, Lex kicked a trashcan. She yelped, hopping on one foot and cursed her foolishness, but the pain was nothing compared to her illness. Because of her faulty heart, Lex had to be saved by Bell day after day. Because of the harm her heart could bring, her best friend refused to go out with her anywhere ‘strenuous’. But what was the point of surviving seventeen painful orbits only to study at home, work in her family workshop and possibly work Upstairs until death?

She wasn’t going to waste her life. The Crimson Arcade’s once-a-cycle droid battle was in two days. After her disastrous interview, it was her only hope. She clenched her fists; Lex would become their new champion and claim the prize money.

Or die trying.

3

Stench of Despair

As she lay in her bed, contemplating her looming grades, Lex received a message that made the budget air taste sweet. Projected onto her darkglass goggles, she read the Nmail:

Dear [ Alexandra Vulcan ] of class [ 77A ],

Students should avoid contact with the former protector known as Manny Grave and report any suspicious activity immediately to the Department of Purity. The suspect is Graexian, 5’10, 82 kg, and is believed to have stolen a cache of military-grade explosives. On behalf of the Department of Purity, we hope you have a wonderful day—Department of Purity, 11:58.

But even this news couldn’t salvage her sour mood. Her interviewers had been perfectly clear they’d thought her unworthy to unclog Upstairs toilets. With two days before she got her Offerings, and the droid battle tonight, Lex was getting fidgety.

She prayed in front of her Athena poster, and even lit some incense to help the prayers reach the gods above. Then Lex returned to her bed, peering out of the window to a street of replica prefab homes: a grey drudgery Lex could have escaped if she had only tried harder. More study. Stricter lessons. The list of what she should have done wore down on her spirit. Ever since returning home from that soul-crushing interview, Lex had been unable to stomach food or her family, and had hidden in her bedroom.

Despite her better judgment, Lex wired her slate to her processor terminal on the wall and pulled up a battle simulation. Slapping on her darkglass goggles, the words ‘Tengoku Megacorporation’ appeared before her, followed by the unveiling of a white lotus on a golden field.

Without a wirehelm, it was harder to maintain the scene in her mind. Still, Lex was properly loaded into a world of long-legged cranes, croaking cicadas and paperwhite walls. Even with a sky of shining steel, it was her favourite; a Tengokuan-style katana appearing in her hands, and an orange kimono wrapping her body. The Tengokuan sims were the only alternative to the local Graexian sort that all involved slaughtering Empyrean ‘barbarians’.

To her left sat a Zen garden, her right a koi pond. Her sandalled foot slid across white sand as she positioned her sword in a readied stance and a warm breeze brushed her face.

Ninjas, wrapped in black cloth, sprang from atop wooden walls. The programs moved like liquid shadow and Lex fought them with a skill born through orbits of non-stop training. She won the first battle. Then the second. And the third.

The fourth wave came with a solid-steel sumo, the opponent’s cybernetics geared for battle. Since augmented bodies were so common, a cyborg designed for combat was dubbed cyberblade, and they could range from a single bionic arm to replacing every organ, bar the brain, with steel. Her opponent was one of the later.

The cybersumo charged with machine-powered speed, bursting through a wooden wall, and barrelling straight towards Lex to throw her against the ground and stomp through her belly. She lost—her mind wasn’t focused today. But it was good. Just like droid fighting, the simulation let her feel what it was like to have a functioning heart and a strong body.

To move. To fight. To forget about her sickness, at least for a little while.

Her neck twinged mildly, then badly and then horrifically. The damaged slate had strained her nervous system. Without a working slate, raw data flooded her mind and, while her brain could make sense of the mess, her neural cortex wasn’t designed for binary traffic.

Lex wired out, her arching back relaxing against the soft bed linen as she rubbed her neck, steam hissing out the side. She’d need to buy a new slate soon, preferably with her winnings from the droid fight—assuming her current unit survived long enough for her to win against the very best droid fighter the lower floors had to offer.

Yet, if her back alley fights were anything to judge by, it wasn’t impossible.

But before that, she’d need to face her family, and hide her failure long enough to find a new way forward. Getting up, Lex threw on a new shirt, and her black boots. Sniffing an armpit, Lex gagged. She needed a shower.

Cracking the door open, Lex dragged her feet down the hall. Every door dotting the lemon-yellow walls was studded with the same steel hinges; each cubic addition to their prefabricated home was made in the same factory. It made buildings cheap, sure, but it also made everything mind-numbingly dull.

Lex treasured her faded memories of her childhood under the Big Blue: she had visited brightly painted temples, slept in secretive desert enclaves, hid within glinting loyalist graveyards, danced around sprawling vineyards and climbed crumbling ruins. The Upstairs world had wonderous flavour, while the underground was endlessly bitter.

She arrived at the bathroom and found the engaged sign blinking orange. She furrowed her brows, then pressed her ear against the sliding steel door. No running water, no humming, no wet steps. Her stomach rumbled like a thunderstorm.

Lex trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Around the old lime-green dining table sat her family: Brackus, Maggie, Mike, Kai, Ruby and Mel, all digging into their dinner. Even though Mel and Kai were younger than Lex, both towered over her, the full Empyrean height fully unleashed. Meanwhile, Lex was the size of half an Empyrean. Another thing her illness had stolen from her.

Her stomach growled again, drawing the attention of her grandmother. Maggie’s hair was smoke white, her little wrinkled hands holding her spoon as carefully as her surgeon’s scalpel, and her white smock stained even after constant washing. She was short, like Lex, due to also having Deployment Damage syndrome.

"There you are, mio caro," Maggie said in musical Western Empyrean.

Lex switched to Empyrean too. "Avia—"

"Don’t ‘Avia’ me, you puer stultum, Maggie snapped back. You’re late to dinner, and after Melissa so graciously cooked for us too."

Nodding glumly, Lex dragged her feet to her usual spot between Brackus and Ruby. She prayed they didn’t ask her about her day. She didn’t want to talk about the interview.

Brackus’s hair was the dull red of a wilting rose, with whisps of silver-grey along the sides of his head. Unlike his wife, Brackus was a bulky man, even in his old age, with thick arms, thicker shoulders and tall enough to reach the top shelf unaided. He had a mechanical left hand; the bronze plate popped open as he fiddled at the wires with a Maketonian screwdriver. While the maintenance continued, he read an old book made of real paper beside his bowl of green algae stew.

Across from them, Mike, Lex’s older brother, was the spitting image of their late father, from his burly arms to the ever-present ‘thinking frown’. Crimson roots bled into his recently bleached hair; a decision that he claimed, time and again, had nothing to do with his breakup with Bell. Tired from more than heartache, his long days helping Brackus in the forge had Mike acting like he was ready to retire at nineteen.

What are you reading, Grandpa? Lex said and tore into the stew. It was lukewarm but Lex had a hole inside that stew filled up just fine—unlike the salty protein brick born from Mel’s last attempt at housewifery.

"Call him Avus, not ‘Grandpa’, mio caro, Maggie grimaced. Use your Empyrean, especially in front of little Rubia. She has problems already; best to be a proper role model for her. Rubia! Elbows down and keep at least arm’s length from your soror; being so indecently close is not Empyre true."

Alex, talk with your sister, Brackus said, so distracted the words tumbled out in plain Graexian. And consider a shower, eh? You smell like Mike after a maintenance call.

I don’t—

Don’t worry so much, Alex, Brackus said, a little spring bouncing free of his arm and into his stew. He peered aside at her. Is there something more than stinking pits we should be talking about? He meant her interview.

No, there’s nothing, Lex said, finding it hard to keep a straight face as Brackus fished his spring from the algae, licked it clean and popped it back in his arm.

Lex turned to Ruby, the scrawny ten-year-old with the largest, reddest eyes Lex had ever seen. She sat with her little grey toga all in a mess, and Tooth’s neon blue eyes poking out from her cloud of tangled red hair. Tooth had ears resembling the cats of Old Earth, and if Lex listened, she could hear a soft purr.

Brackus, your mother tongue, for Rubia’s sake, Maggie said. If we do not hold ourselves to the Empyre true way of things, then we will have become Graexian barbarians! And Rubia, that better not be that beast of yours, is it?

Sensing danger, Tooth’s blue eyes vanished deeper into her hair. Ruby squirmed as she tried to maintain her innocent smile. No? Tooth is a good boy, all locked up in his cage. Her lips teetered between giggling and a firm smile.

Ruby, Lex said, trying to save her smallest sister from Maggie’s questioning. Your hair is lovely today.

It is a bride’s braid, Lexie, Mel taught it to me! Ruby said, grabbing Lex’s hand to sweep her fingers across the messily woven clump. Empyre true, this means I will be married! Ruby was so excited she forgot to speak Empyrean. A tiny, purple-furred tail swished out from Ruby’s back.

Maggie’s scowl eased into a smile.

Yes, good, dear, it is the Empyrean way to look forward to your matrimony. But what about you, Michael? Has a nice Empyrean girl caught your eye, hmm? The old woman had a hunger in her gaze and Mike shrank before her. What of that lovely Bellatrix Straza you used to go on about, when is she next coming for dinner?

Mike looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

"What about you, Alexandra, has a strapping young uomo caught your eye? Can I be expecting little babes waddling around anytime soon? Maggie’s beacon-bright eyes seared into Lex’s soul. You’ll soon be of marrying age, but then again, perhaps waiting for an Upstairs uomo would be best before starting your own familia?"

Lex smiled, and turned back to Ruby, Mike forced to suffer the interrogation alone.

Are you learning lots in school, little squib?

SQUIB? Ruby’s eyes widened with outrage. I am not! Also, do we have to eat this? Ruby peered shrewdly across the table, then leaned closer to Lex’s waiting ear. Grandma keeps the crackers on the top shelf.

Lex patted her shoulder. I understand, agent Ruby—

—I slaved away for an hour to make that stew, the least you can do is eat it, Mel scowled. Melissa, while only fifteen years old, had the frazzled nerves of a divorcee. Dolled up with the latest Viol Vex skin softeners, brown hair dye and matching contact lenses, she could almost pass for a Graexian. Eat what I made or go back to your room.

Mel’s own bowl was almost overflowing, this being her third unsuccessful cycle of her UltraGain diet that she swore Viol Vex used to get her own thick curves.

"Melissa, watch your manners. It is not Empyrean proper to act like an ebrius nauta fresh from the barge," Maggie said, lancing her middle granddaughter with an evil eye. Lex slowly translated ebrius nauta into ‘drunken sailor’, then laughed. "You two are soror, and you will act like familia for as long as you live under my roof, breathe my air and eat my food."

The air was indeed lacking dust or fumes; a vent blew from the ceiling, the faded red sticker beside it reading: Perseus 18% O is the people’s choice for affordability and quality! Lex wished Maggie would give them the same pure stuff she gave her patients. Medical-grade air always left Lex buzzing.

To think entire buildings Upstairs were full of such sweet oxygen. As a child, she had never appreciated what it was like to have as much sweet air as she could breathe.

Oh please, Melissa sneered. We might be sisters, but you don’t need to pretend to be our parents. They could have afforded higher-calorie food!

You watch your tone, Melissa Vulcan, or it’ll be to the shower then bed, Maggie said, with her cybernetics clicking warningly overhead. Now apologise.

Speaking of showers, Lex cut in. If we’re all here, why is the bathroom engaged? Lex peered in everyone’s eye, save Kai who hid behind his red curtain of hair at his most distant corner of the table.

I reserved it, Mel said imperiously. So that I can have a nice long bath after cooking all day. She still spoke in Graexian and poor Maggie looked lost for words.

All day cooking this? Lex downed a spoonful of her vanishing green sludge and wrinkled her brows. Gritty. But despite the taste, Lex was hungry enough for three bowls at least. This is one of those instant recipes. Couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes, less if you had let Mike cook.

Alexandra, Maggie sighed. "Mel wanted to try making enough food for her diet. Leave your soror be. And Melissa, mio caro, to speak our language is to keep our culture alive—"

"Yeah, Alexandra, Mel sneered. You're giving me a bad name at school. People think I’m weird because you can’t even dye your hair. How’d your interview go, by the way? Did they smell the stink of scaeg—"

MELISSA VULCAN, APOLOGISE THIS INSTANT! Maggie roared, then coughed, and pressed a hand to her chest. The old woman deflated like a burst balloon.

I’m not a Vulcan, Mel said and threw her bowl to smash against the wall. I never asked to be! She ran through the kitchen and up the stairs, Maggie wheezing soft words as she followed on her spider legs.

Lex grimaced. She hoped Mel would be okay; she knew she would, but her words still pained her and made her defective heart twinge.

Kai, how have you been? Lex said in careful Empyrean.

Kai shrugged; he was only thirteen, and already taller than Lex. If Lex had the credits, she would bet they had another mountain like Mike and Brackus on their hands. Although, a very quiet, reserved and soulful mountain. Maggie always said Mike and their dead father, Axel, had both been the exact same way at Kai’s age.

As Lex would have been if she wasn’t born with a defective heart.

Finishing her meal, Lex marched around the table to stand beside Mike. Facing the darkglass that hung on the wall, she watched an animated hololoop of a waving Axel and pregnant Aesara standing before a massive Spectre-class battle droid—the droid House Vulcan had driven to war for a hundred years.

These days, the Emperor let his jackals pilot their new ‘Imperial Knights’ without the proper rites, care, code nor sense of duty to the ordinary people of the land. The warcaste had been the guards at the door, keeping the chimorah, the bandits and the corrupt at bay. And now their noble Spectres were used to protect corruption—despicable.

Other hololoops held Lex’s—mostly dead—family as they wore their finest red togas and smiled for the optic. Bundles of red-haired children swaddled in red cloth, Lex, Mel and Kai included. Lex smirked at a child-sized Mike picking his nose.

But the hololoop with Brackus in his centurion steel was her favourite. His glinting fists would have put Manny Grave in his place, the ream of medals would have dazzled the interviewers into submission. That red shard key around his neck, the same key hidden in the wall of Lex’s room, would have amazed and delighted everyone at school.

If only things had remained as they should, and House Vulcan still protected the caverns surrounding the Great Engine of Caesium. If only their family, their people, their way of life hadn’t been shattered like Mel’s plate—their broken remnants swept up and dumped into this dustbin of an enginestate.

Lex closed her eyes and smiled; her mind filled with what life could have been. In a world where she knew exactly who she was and what to do. The dream was perfect.

Lex opened her eyes, her family around her, the reverberation in the floor indicating the auto-factory next door had begun the next order. Lex could still make this work; she could get Upstairs and brush that matter with Manny Grave under the carpet and