Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(80)

His processors recalculated his chances of success again.

Twenty-three percent.

Fifteen.

That definitely was not helping.

He switched off the calculations. He did not have time to listen to them.

The uniform smelled strange—musty. And, so subtly—sage. The memory of standing in front of a long mirror, pinning badges onto his chest, straightening his collar. The fit of it snug around his shoulders, the itchiness of the sleeves. Lord Rasovant clapping him on the shoulder. Murmured words. Proud.

A wave of dizziness swarmed over him, and he steadied himself against a shelf. That was not a Metal memory—not his. Was it?

Pushing the memory down, he retied his hair and pushed it up into his hat, the screeching so loud he had to concentrate on walking.

He pressed his hand against the door and reached his consciousness into the keypad’s microchip again, forcing it to malfunction. The microchip gave a small pop, and his fingers twitched with the static. The door opened, and he hurried out.

It snapped closed again as—

Lord Rasovant turned the corner, coattails fluttering, his attention on the holo-pad in his hand.

Di quickly angled his face away as he passed Rasovant, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. The Adviser did not even look up.

“There has been a breach in security,” the Adviser told someone through a comm-link on his holo-pad. “Yes, lock the perimeter. Lord Tvani was found in the east garden, unconscious. I don’t care how you find the intruder, just find . . .” His voice faded as he closed himself into his study.

Captain, I escaped, but I think I have been found out.

“Goddess’s spark,” she cursed. “We’ll figure something else out. I have contacts I can—”

No. If the malware is here, then I am not leaving without Ana, Di replied sternly.

He broke out into a jog toward the South Tower. The uniform boots made almost soundless clips on the marble tile. He couldn’t escape the study quickly enough, but the scent of sage followed him like a haunting melody.





Robb


Robb hurried toward his mother’s chambers, feigning an upset stomach to not alarm the Messiers standing guard. Then again, he could probably punch one and they wouldn’t move. He hadn’t seen a single one so much as twitch.

Where is the HIVE? he wondered absently. Does it have a central stationary base? What does it look l—

A Royal Guard rounded the corner, and they slammed into each other. Robb stumbled back.

“Watch where you’re—”

The guard looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded.

Robb’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, don’t I know—”

Suddenly, the guard shoved him against the wall, pressing a forearm against his neck. Robb squeaked in protest. This was not how he’d imagined tonight going at all.

“You brought her here, you put her in danger—after all she did for you on the Dossier,” the guard hissed, dark eyes flickering white.

Realization hit Robb like a punch in the stomach. Goddess’s spark. “D09,” he wheezed, tugging at the humanoid Metal’s arm to try and get in a breath. “You’re mad—”

“Mad? Robb, I am furious.”

“Let me”—gasp—“explain!”

“With that silver tongue of yours?”

The Metal was literally squeezing the breath out of him. Robb tapped on his arm to try and get him to let go. His ears rang with the dizzying pressure building in his skull. “I brought you . . . back!”

D09’s face pinched, and he let go.

Robb dropped to his knees, coughing. “Goddess you’re strong.”

“You? You put me in this body?” the not-Metal asked. Viewing it on a gurney was one thing, but to actually see the body moving was another. He looked—weirdly, strangely—human. And stood taller than Robb, too.

He rubbed his neck. “I didn’t think it worked. . . . Kind of wished it didn’t now—”

“Why did you do this to me?”

Robb squinted up at the human Metal . . . person. “I thought you’d be thankful? Say, ‘Hey, Robb, thanks for saving my life! I appreciate it.’”

“Thankful?” the Metal scoffed. “I am a great many things at the moment—”

“I realized.”

“—but thankful is not one of them.”

Robb turned his eyes to the ceiling and took a deep, deep breath. “So you’d rather be dead?”

“Metals do not die.”

“Well, the way everyone mourned you, you’d think differently.”

The Metal opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, frustrated. He took off his uniform cap and ran a hand through his hair, as if he was nervous.

Robb frowned, sort of hating that D09 had better hair than him. And where had he gotten a Royal Guard uniform, anyway?

“Robb,” D09 finally said, choosing his words carefully, “humor me for a minute, will you? You uploaded me into a new body without my knowledge. I had no instructions, no tutorials, nothing. I have had to learn it all. Can you imagine that?”

Robb blinked. “Every day.”

D09 gave him a withering look. “You mock me.”

“As much as I can,” he agreed, absently stretching up his hand, and the Metal pulled him to his feet. “I didn’t have much time to think before I uploaded you, okay? I knew my mother was coming, and I didn’t see any other choice. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I just did it. I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot recently.”