The Girl Who Dared to Think 7: The Girl Who Dared to Fight

Tony just laughed and flicked my hand out in a move that I felt only dimly. I recognized it—he was throwing a lash line out so he could grab it and spin it up in his hand.

A second later, he was casting it, slightly down and in front of him. There was a high-pitched whistle as it cut through the air, and then it stuck to a panel a few feet down from us, about forty feet above the roof of the greenery. Before I could fathom what he planned to do, Tony began to retract the line, reeling in the slack. As soon as it was taut, he stopped, and we began to swing into an arc. Tony looked up to check the lash bead, and I saw that it was wobbling a little, the force of the impact likely causing it to expend some of the static energy it had collected, and then, to my surprise, he disconnected the line, putting us in a dive again, this time a few feet over.

He did this two more times, somehow using the swing to slow us down, then dropped us both seamlessly on the platform, where we landed lightly on my feet.

I suddenly realized that I was referring to him as “we,” and felt like I could understand a bit more about what had happened between Leo and Grey. It already felt invasive, and we’d been joined for only a few hours.

I put that aside and focused on what Tony was doing to my body. He was running, racing toward the edge of the greenery like some sort of maniac. The drone was waiting there, its lights flashing repeatedly.

Only this time, I was able to understand it, thanks to Tony.

L-I-O-N-E-L-S-O-F-F-I-C-E-P-R-I-O-R-I-T-Y-A-L-P-H-A-E-P-I-S-O-L-O-N-T-H-E-T-A.

Lionel’s office, priority alpha-epsilon-theta.

Tony absorbed it all and continued to run toward the drone, but I felt suddenly heavy. I knew exactly what the priority was. The drone was trying to lead Tony to the backup version of Scipio that Lionel had kept in defiance of the council’s orders. Only I had found it long ago. He was my boyfriend now, and I already knew that he was the failsafe. Even if Lionel had somehow left instructions on what to do, I’d pretty much had that information for some time: use Leo to replace Scipio, and reintegrate him with the other fragments to form the “new” Scipio.

Tony, I thought more purposefully, when Tony made no move to stop. I know you’re aware of my thoughts; you’re constantly interrupting them. What we need isn’t down there. He’s up with my friends in the Citadel! We’re losing time. We need to turn around and head back.

Oh, ye of little faith! Tony laughed. I doubt very much that Lionel would take a break from his afterlife to tell us something we already knew.

LIONEL SCIPIO IS DEAD, I shouted as he flung us over the edge, one lash already flying to hook the panel at the corner of the building and swing us around it.

Of course he’s dead, Tony replied, unfazed. But that doesn’t mean he’s gone. C’mon!

He continued to lash us down, and I retreated into the back of my mind, furious. I was literally being held captive in my body, and forcibly taken against my will to a place that I had already been. It was pointless, and each second it kept me away from my friends was a second more I was giving the enemy to get to, hurt, and possibly kill them.

And I was powerless to stop him.

Tony continued down to the greenery below—Greenery 1, the Menagerie—and all too soon, we had landed on the roof of it. He paused long enough to change out lash ends, trading the old ones for Quess’s specially designed ones, and then took us over the edge and down below the greenery.

Mist from the hydro-turbines siphoning water from the river below blanketed the underside of this greenery, making everything murky and barely visible. The drone, which had been keeping pace or leading the way, drew in tight with us now, and turned its lights to the maximum setting. It didn’t help much.

Still, it didn’t seem to need visual cues to work, and soon we were lashing after it, moving at breakneck speeds even though Tony couldn’t see the various obstacles in his path. Poles holding catwalks up passed by us, as did atmospheric processing boxes, meant to help reduce the rate of humidity entering the Tower. He moved as the drone did, following it closely.

I almost screamed at him again when he stopped just outside a familiar-looking hatch—one I knew would lead to a ventilation system that had access to Lionel Scipio’s hidden office down below—but I held back. It was pointless to fight at this juncture. As soon as Tony figured out that he’d miscalculated and gave me my body back, I was going to pull the net out of my head, and he was going to go the rest of the way up to the Citadel in my pocket.

If I could even get up. The outer shell was flooded at this level, and if someone had closed the door we left open, then chances were the flooding had moved up several levels, which meant I’d have to lash even farther if I was going to get back in. Not that I would try to scale the Tower by myself. If anything, I could try to get back to the Grounds and climb from there, but that was also risky. Because I’d definitely be spotted.

But there was not much I could do about that. To get to the shell, I’d have to go through the Menagerie, which meant running into workers there. And if they were listening to Scipio, which I was sure they were, then I was going to have to fight my way out. Not to mention try to find a way to escape at the same time, as the doors were sealed, under Sage’s orders.

Such were my thoughts, trying to figure out the best way to undo Tony’s massive screw-up in dragging us down here, as he continued to drag me farther and farther away from my friends. I considered the elevator shafts, the power conduits. Hell, I even considered the plunges for a hot minute. It was dangerous as all get out, but going up was better than going down, and chances were they’d be deserted.

While Tony crawled through the vents, following the drone—whose form had shifted some to give it access—I considered everything I would need, and where and how I could get it. Water would be easy in the Menagerie, and hopefully a first-aid kit would be as well. If I could get to a cutter, I might be able to use it to carve a way into the Tower, but I would have to see what was happening on the inside first.

Tony eventually made it to the vent entrance and quickly climbed out.

The office was just as we’d left it, with objects half packed and the safe wide open and empty. The couches, table, and desk were relatively clear of any clutter, but the floor was lined with boxes half filled with books and other objects we had found on the shelves lining the room. What was odd was that the power was still on, several lights shining down from above. It shouldn’t have been possible, with power out to the greenery it was attached to, yet here it was, fully operational. Lionel must’ve built in a battery or had an emergency power line connected here before he died. It was the only thing that explained it.

Tony stepped in and looked around, and I could feel a deep sense of reverence radiating from him. I almost commented, but then realized that this was probably the first time he’d seen this room—the room where his creator had undoubtedly worked on him and the other AIs. And suddenly I didn’t want to intrude on his moment.

Even if he was being a little twerp about coming down here.

The drone we had been following landed on the desk, the nose of it facing the screen of the terminal. I suppressed an internal sigh as Tony went for it, and thought, The terminal is gone, Tony. Pine left a virus in it to destroy the—

I stopped mid-thought when Tony came to face the screen, surprised by a box of blue text sitting in the center.

Emergency Protocol 001-A is attempting to start. Do you wish to proceed? Y/N

How is that possible? I asked as Tony leaned down over the keyboard and studied it. Do you know what Protocol 001-A is?