Pru shrugged off his apology. “I figured you didn’t actually want to kill me.”
“Thanks.”
“No, really,” said Pru. “I noticed the setting on the pistol grip ticked to ‘stun,’ which, let me be clear, Captain Space Opera, would still have been very uncool. But, like, the no-kill setting is something, I guess. If I saw some girl flying a giant robot reptile over New Columbia, I’d probably have panicked and shot my own head off. How did you even figure out where I was going to land?”
“Tracked Rebelwing’s coordinates. Not always reliable, with those stealth mechanisms, but Cat helped—turns out she programmed some emergency protocols for getting the dragon to land in certain locales. Like the field behind the coffeehouse where she happens to work.” Alex hummed thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t recall plasma gun settings getting covered in New Columbia Prep’s core curriculum.”
“They’re not. Anabel—” Pru swallowed. “Anabel taught me how to eyeball pistol settings, when we first got into book smuggling. Don’t see why she ever bothered, honestly.”
“Teaching you plasma gun safety?”
“Book smuggling.” Pru shrugged one shoulder. “Not like Anabel ever needed the money. I knew that. I figured she was just in it for the thrill, and because—” Pru bit her tongue before she could say, because it was something stupid and fun we could do together. “I get the need for a dumb thrill from time to time, for an anal-retentive overachiever like Anabel. But this fancy, hush-hush Coalition internship of hers? You’d think the Barricader government bigwigs would frown on interns who deal illegal anything.”
“Not necessarily.”
“No?” Pru snuck a glance at him. Alex’s jaw had set, carving a sharp profile against the lightening sky. A photographer from a propagandist’s office couldn’t have set up a better inspo-shot.
“You break every rule, when your intent serves the right cause,” said Alex.
“Yeah? And what’s that?” asked Pru. “Screwing the UCC by any means necessary? Is that what you tell the university admissions counselors when they ask for your five-year plan?” Not that a kid named Lamarque would need help with admission to any university anywhere in the Barricade cities.
Alex smiled. Not the toothy, public grin he’d turned on his concert crowd, but a private curve of the mouth, small and searing. “Restoring democracy to the continent. Restoring the marketplace of ideas. Not just for Barricaders. For everyone.”
“Wow,” said Pru. “I just told my admissions counselor that I want to pass Honors Literature II and score a spot in a less boring elective next year.”
“Sure,” said Alex, “but shouldn’t everyone on the continent be allowed those opportunities too? We call Incorporated citizens ignorant because they live on the wrong side of the Barricades, but ignorance is really just a different kind of fear.”
“And you think you’ll stamp out the terror of the Executive General’s reign by, what, putting his citizens through their paces bullshitting Honors Lit essays?”
“I think letting them study uncensored literature at all is a start.”
“That’s so trite,” said Pru. “Like ideally, yeah. No shit, jailing teens for reading edgy superhero comics is messed up. But why is that a Barricader problem? Why is that my problem? I’m just a dumb kid with a side hustle, trying to get through school. Completely useless to the Coalition, or whatever political crusade its interns have cooked up.”
“Anabel thinks otherwise.”
Pru didn’t quite hide her flinch. “Anabel thinks I’m a greedy little charity case.”
“No,” said Alex quietly. “I really don’t believe she does. She’s got an eye for these things. You’re quick on your feet, adaptable. Good at keeping your eyes on the prize.”
“Smuggling skills.”
Alex shrugged. “Transferrable smuggling skills. Coalition could use that.”
Pru opened her mouth, then closed it again. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told her she was useful for anything besides petty, cash-winning crime, which wasn’t really something you could write about in a university admissions essay.
Silence drifted between them, and grew immediately awkward. Say something, she urged her brain. Say literally anything.
“You still haven’t explained why the Barricade Coalition needs a giant robot dragon that sometimes turns invisible and kidnaps people for joy rides,” said Pru.
“That’s not for you to know,” said a new voice. Pru started. She’d been so wrapped up in arguing with Alex, she hadn’t even noticed Cat’s approach. Now, the barista—barista-slash-engineering-student, apparently—hovered over Pru, mouth a disapproving golden slash. “You’ve ruined everything.”
“Not necessarily,” protested Alex.
Cat sniffed. “I am ninety percent certain.”
“By what statistical formula, exactly?”
“Oh, I can’t think what,” drawled Cat. “But perhaps my expertise in matters of my own engineering design might allow me some confidence.” Her gaze snapped toward Pru, the single cybernetic iris burning bright as the dragon’s eye. “I built Rebelwing for Alexandre,” she said bluntly. “She’s perfect for him, not you.”
“Um,” said Pru, unsure whether she was supposed to be offended or relieved. “Cool? Like, don’t take this the wrong way, but that joy ride left me kind of airsick. I’m totally good with seeing Puff the Mecha-Lizard returned to her rightful, uh, master—”
“No one cares,” snapped Cat. “The dragon has imprinted on you.”
Pru blinked. “Come again?”
“Imprinted,” Cat repeated, biting off the syllables with unnecessary fervor. “Do you know, ideally, how a mech works?”
Pru’s mind drifted guiltily back to her terrible robotics grades at school. “Probably not, no.”
“A mech and its pilot must work as one,” said Cat. “The organic and the inorganic. A symbiotic relationship between two uniquely complementary beings. The trouble is, most pilots are human beings, and human beings are rather inconveniently sentient.”
“Um. Sorry?”
“A normal, mindless machine simply cannot respond as quickly and instinctually to a human brain’s desires as a mech pilot requires in combat,” continued Cat, ignoring Pru. “That is why Rebelwing is sentient too. A particular advantage over Incorporated wyverns.”
“The dragon is sentient?” squawked Pru. Still, that explained a few things, like why this mech had seemed more like a living animal than a death-dealing wyvern, much less your average mobile suit. “So it’s . . . you literally designed a super-advanced stealth suit that can fly, turn invisible, enhance human senses, and has a will of its own?”