The boy paused on the ladder, looked into Cricket’s eyes.
“I told you to enter silent mode.”
“I’M SORRY ABOUT WHAT I SAW, ABRAHAM,” Cricket said, speaking in a rush. “BUT I’LL NEVER TELL ANYONE. YOU CAN ORDER ME NOT TO.”
The boy shook his head. “I can’t take—”
“IF YOU ERASE MY PERSONA MATRICES, ALL MY FIGHTING EXPERIENCE WILL BE LOST. YEARS OF EXPERIENCE ON THE KILLING FLOOR. WITHOUT MY MIND, THIS IS JUST A BODY. AND IT’S THE MIND THAT WINS INSIDE THE DOME.”
Cricket couldn’t recall telling a bigger lie in his life. He had almost zero experience on the killing floor, and no combat training whatsoever. A part of his core code was in total revolt at the idea of being so dishonest to a human. He’d never have stretched the truth this far with Evie or Silas.
But talking true, he wasn’t with Evie or Silas anymore, was he? This kid was about to delete him. And the Three Laws made no mention about a robot having to tell the truth, especially when his very existence was on the line.
“I have plenty of combat routines I can upload to replace the ones I erase,” the boy said. “You’ll still win.”
“I WAS BUILT BY SILAS CARPENTER, THE FINEST BOTDOC OF HIS AGE. AND I DON’T MEAN TO OFFEND, MASTER ABRAHAM, BUT A FEW LOW-RENT COMBAT SOFTS YOU SNAFFLED IN THE NEW BETHLEHEM MARKETPLACE WON’T COMPARE TO THE PROGRAMMING HE GAVE ME. YOU WANT ME TO BE THIS CITY’S CHAMPION? THEN I HAVE TO STAY ME.”
Cricket could see the trepidation in the boy’s face. He could only imagine what might happen if Abraham’s secret got out. If the populace of this city learned that the leader of the Brotherhood had a deviate son…
Only the pure shall prosper.
“DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW? I MEAN…ABOUT…”
The boy glanced up, his eyes flashing. “Of course she does.”
“THEN THE SECRET CAN BE KEPT. I SWEAR, ABRAHAM. THAT KNOWLEDGE IS SAFER WITH ME THAN ANY HUMAN ALIVE. I CAN HELP YOU. I CAN PROTECT YOU.”
The boy chewed his lip, saying nothing.
“I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS?”
It was a low blow, and Cricket knew it. But Cricket did kinda like the kid, and if it came down to the choice between playing nice and dying…
Abraham hung still, obviously uncertain. If Cricket had been the GnosisLabs champion logika, what he was saying made perfect sense—the programming he would’ve got in Babel would surpass anything this boy could provide. But if the Brotherhood found out what Abraham was, it’d be all over.
“You will not speak of this, Paladin. Do you understand?” the boy said. “I order you to never speak to anyone about what you saw last night. About my nature. About what I am. Under any circumstances. Acknowledge.”
Electric relief flooded Cricket’s circuits, his mighty shoulders sagging.
“ORDER ACKNOWLEDGED, ABRAHAM.”
The boy glanced one last time at the electromagnet in his hand. But slowly, he nodded. Climbing down the ladder, he tossed the magnet back in the locker.
“…ABRAHAM?”
“Yes?” the boy said, looking up.
Cricket rolled his shoulders, tried to sound nonchalant. “THOSE COMBAT SOFTS YOU MENTIONED. IT MIGHT BE A GOOD IDEA TO UPLOAD THEM INTO MY STORAGE SYSTEMS ANYWAY. I DON’T IMAGINE THEY’LL COME CLOSE TO MATCHING WHAT I ALREADY HAVE, BUT THERE MAY BE SOME DATA I CAN USE. YOUR MOTHER MENTIONED A DOME MATCH IN JUGARTOWN IN A FEW DAYS’ TIME. I WANT TO IMPRESS THE CROWD.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed, but again, he nodded.
“They’re in the central network. It’ll be faster if I go get them on a memchit rather than download them digitally.”
“I’LL AWAIT YOU HERE, ABRAHAM.”
Abraham looked Cricket over carefully, lips pursed in thought. But finally, with thumbs hooked into his tool belt, he wandered out of the workshop again.
Cricket didn’t actually breathe, but he sighed with relief anyway.
Spangspangspang.
The big bot looked up at the noise, saw Solomon lying on the workbench, bringing his metal hands together in applause.
“I MAY HAVE MISJUDGED YOU, FRIEND PALADIN. THAT WAS VERY WELL PLAYED.”
Solomon tilted his head and grinned.
“YOU MAY NOT BE A COMPLETE MORON AFTER ALL.”
“Bloody hell,” Grimm murmured.
Diesel was slumped on the couch in the common room, recoloring her fingernails black with a marker pen. Fix stood near the doorway, muscular arms folded over his broad chest. Grimm leaned against the wall nearby, watching Lemon with those dark pretty eyes. The trio had been called together by the Major, and she’d stood beside the old man as he spilled the news about the five-leafed clover. The truth of who she was.
“Your granddaughter,” Diesel deadpanned, eyebrow raised.
“Believe me, I’m as shocked as any of you,” the old man said.
“Um,” Lemon muttered. “You’re really not.”
“Bloody hell,” Grimm said again.
“Swear jar,” Fix murmured.
“I suppose it makes a strange kind of sense,” the old man sighed. “I’ve been seeing Lemon on and off in my dreams for years. I never knew the relevance at the time, but you all know my visions are always relevant somehow. None of us would be here without them.”
“Truth,” Grimm nodded.
“Abnormality’s passed on through heredity.” Fix shrugged. “Sounds legit that the kids of deviates might be deviates themselves.”
“So shouldn’t she just share your gift?” Diesel asked. “See things when she dreams like you do?”
“I think it’s safe to say there’s a great deal about this we don’t understand,” the Major said. “But I’m happy to report Lemon has agreed to stay with us for a while longer. Until we figure some of this out, at least.”
Silence hung over the room, Lemon shuffling her boots. True cert, she was having trouble wrapping her head around it. All her life, she’d had no family outside Evie and Mister C. But the truth of it was hard to dodge. She was gifted, just like the Major, and the way that Darwin book told it, mutation did get passed down from parents to sprogs. The Major had dreamed about her brawling outside Babel long before he ever met her, and again before that. And the only token Lemon’s mother had left her with just happened to be the same piece of jewelry the Major had given his daughter for her birthday?