“Don’t like it?” I ask.
“All of our humans are in one place. Of course, I don’t like it. We’re one big target,” she whispers. “One enemy hit could take out many, or the welvirs break in and shred us from the center out. Since we have to keep closing off tunnels because of the growing welvir population, we’re unable to take the drilled tunnels back to the pick-up zone, the ship, or anywhere familiar. Drillbit is getting a workout.”
Poppy seems upset by this.
“Got a thing for Drillbit?”
Poppy’s face wrinkles like she’s mildly disgusted. “He is the only one who can get us all toapick-up zone. We are all at his mercy. But I am worried that the welvirs or the Solcrue will track us down. Our ammo supplies aren’t endless. Besides, he’s like a toddler next to me. I could be his great greatgreatgrandmother.”
“Isn’t age sort of irrelevant once you’re immortal?”
Poppy shrugs. “I don’t know. Guess I never really thought about it.”
Flashes of light across the tunnel draw our attention to Shifter. He’s a sneaky unit like Menace, Morbid, and Savage. But I’ve learned they each had their capabilities designed for specific purposes in battle.
“Might have to resort to old-fashioned ways,” Poppy mutters. “You up for that?”
“You mean…” I pull the knife from the sheath on the strap across my chest.
Poppy grimaces. “You’re more vulnerable than us because of your human skin. But it may come down to that. I’d rather us conserve ammo so we have it when we really need it.”
“For the escape?” Just saying the words brings harsh reality to the plan that we’re going to attempt liftoff in just two days’ time.
Poppy is not as apathetic as many think her to be. She is tough. As a CyberPilot, she has to be. But she worries. I can see it in her posture and how she makes subtle adjustments, as though some energy inside her wants out. “There’s something we’re not seeing. I can’t tell you what it is...only that something else is watching us.”
“What makes you think that?”
“An old battle, long before you were even a thought on your parent’s minds,” she says.
“Stars, how old are you?”
Poppy laughs softly.
“Really, I want to know.”
She draws in a breath and adjusts her packs. “I was one of the original cybernetic models before WreckTanks were an idea. We’ve been piloting ships, Clover included, for many years. The Creators just upgraded us from the original Sol designs.”
“I’m sorry, did you saySolas in the original solar system with Earth, not Earth Minor?”
She shifts her shoulders under the weight of her bags. “Fin, I brought humans to Earth Minor. I flew your people to this galaxy from their dying homeworld. Clover piloted a different ship on the same route. So we have seen a thing or two.” She looks away. “I wish I knew what happened to CP-65099. She was the other mothership pilot. I lost track of her in the war.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know what you are and who you are descended from. I know how deep your desire to protect your people is ingrained in your genes. And I know you will do anything to try and stop what’s coming. But you can’t. None of us can.”
I hunker forward, feeling like I’ve been punched in the stomach. “You knew my family?”
“Yes.” She continues, like the break in the topics doesn’t bother her at all. “We think the Solcrue don’t know what we’re planning. But every time we kill one of them, we prove to the others that they were on to something. They learn from everything we do and don’t do. Solcrue have not taken over the galaxy simply because they were lucky.
“We have to outsmart the enemy. That might mean going back to simpler forms of battle. They can trace some rifle signals by heat or energy. But a knife or a dark zembi—”
“Switch to methods they don’t know as well—” I glance back to where Menace patrols. “He has one of those swords, right? The zembi?”
She nods. “Stealth models and Cosmic Piercers, Starjumpers, a few others. But many of us are without our gear.” Poppy drums a finger laced with tracework on her rifle. It lights up with every piece of tech it encounters.
I wonder if Poppy hears something or feels things differently through her fingers. I bet she feels out of place not being on a ship with so many things literally at her fingertips. “Each of us has to take out many of them if this will work. That means we must do much more than bashing our way in like WreckTanks. Do you have any ideas?”
“Me?” I’m stunned that Poppy’s asking a human for advice.
