The Lumis War Read online

  The Lumis War

  Published in 2015 by Lisa Jade via lulu.com

  Copyright © Lisa Jade, 2015

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored digitally, or transmitted in any form without prior permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination.

  www.lisajade.net

  Prologue

  My feet collide with the pavement as I race through the ruins. My breath is short and I can barely see, but the panic in my chest forces me to keep moving. Behind me, I can hear them. The bots, their insides murmuring, their metallic feet hitting the ground so heavily that it sends echoes across the space between us. Mechanical breathing fills my ears and I throw myself forward - but I can feel my legs beginning to ache, the world starting to sway around me.

  I skid to a stop and push my back against a broken wall, lifting the pulse launcher to my shoulder and aiming it wildly. I'm being chased. I just know it. I can feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and shock prickling down my spine. I gulp hard, peering behind myself, waiting for the bots to come. The sounds are getting louder and louder, and it sets me on edge.

  My free hand sinks to my waist and I thread my fingers through the loops of my belt, sliding a small knife from it. I grip it tightly and peer around the corner again, but I can't see anything. I try to calm my breath, and after a few seconds it seems to work, so I carry on walking.

  My strides are steady and calculated, but I'm still wary. I clutch both the launcher and the knife, holding them up, ready to attack if I need to. Out of the corner of my eye I spy a tiny bot, no larger than my thumb, with a dozen legs like a little spider. It pauses when it sees me, but as I take a step towards it, it scurries away.

  Then, I feel it. The ground beneath me starts to quake, so slightly that I perhaps wouldn't notice if not for the puddles of oil on the ground around me. I steady my grip on the weapons, tuck myself behind a wrecked car and wait, hoping it'll somehow miss me. But the sound only grows nearer, and as I stare at the ground I try to pretend it's not there. Maybe then it won't sense the heat from my body, or the racing of my heart.

  It doesn't work.

  The car that I'm leaning against shifts, and I barely have time to throw myself aside as it’s picked up and flung aside. I gasp and scramble to get out of the way, racing to avoid the vehicle as it comes crashing down behind me. I pull myself upright and start running, barely looking back to see the bot just yards behind. But I don't need to see it to know to run - I can see its hulking shadow, looming over me. I can hear the deafening buzz of its inner workings.

  I run as fast and hard as my body will allow, until the muscles in my legs are screaming at me, begging for a moment's reprieve. I vault over a pile of rubble - and catch my foot on a disabled bot lying motionless in my path. It sends me sprawling to the ground and I try to gather my composure, but it's too late. The bot is upon me, and as I whip around and aim my launcher, I already know it's no good. I fire blindly, my mind in a panic, and everything turns black.

  Chapter One

  "Right, on to the next matter."

  The room is hushed as everyone around the table shifts, shuffling their notes and turning their attention to the next speaker. I remain seated as he stirs next to me, standing up to address the room. As always, I feel a small rush of admiration when Dr Newton takes the stage. The room falls silent immediately, every eye on him, granting him the respect that his presence demands. He glances at me and I stand too, inclining my head slightly as I do so.

  "Dr Newton," someone says, "how are things in the infirmary?"

  He smiles; and as he does so, creases appear near his eyes and mouth. He's an older man, with white hair and fine lines on his face, but his blue eyes still sparkle with intelligence.

  "Our stock levels are excellent, as usual. Thanks to the Scout team making regular trips, we have a decent amount of medical equipment. There have been fewer injuries as of late, and even those with ongoing illnesses are managing well with regular medication. My apprentice here…"

  He gestures towards me and I nod.

  "…is continuing to learn at a good pace. It will take several more years of training before she is able to take over fully, but for now I am more than happy to have an assistant."

  There are some general noises of assent, and I fight to keep myself from smiling. But then his face falls, and he addresses them again, only this time with a more serious tone.

  "However, I must speak about something. I understand that you're all fed up of this debate, but I'd like to discuss the possibility of adding a fifth member to the Scouts' main team."

  They all groan, and I set my jaw. Dr Newton must have brought this up at every Council meeting in the last six months. But no matter how many times they reject his ideas, he just won't give up - and neither will I.

  "Newton, listen," one of the Councilmen – John, I think - sighs, "we've been over this before. Nobody here actually opposes the theory of Ashley joining, but her capabilities must be considered."

  My hands round into fists and I bite back a growl. Capabilities? I’ve worked hard to match the Scouts’ skills. Speed, aim, technique. If it was anyone else, there'd be no question.

  "Ash here has passed every test we have presented her with," says Dr Newton, "and has received full training for the role. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but she isn’t the kind to be limited to the infirmary - I honestly believe she is capable of becoming our first field medic."

  John hesitates, then shakes his head. As he does so I feel my irritation flair. He’s your typical middle-aged man – a balding, grumpy spoilsport. How he ever earned such an important role as interpersonal affairs, I’ll never know. His gaze fixes on me and he clicks his tongue against his teeth, clearly unimpressed.

  "We have a lot to deal with here, Newton. We’re a small group of survivors in a very large, very dangerous city. Hostile bots pose a constant threat to us and we need the very best of us to head out there and fight them. I don't see how a young girl who can't even speak will be able to do that."

  I raise my hands and start to sign furiously. I can do anything you can do. I just can't boast about it afterward. Dr Newton watches me for a moment, then snickers.

  "I think she disagrees with you, John. We have both been present at many meetings now to try and convince you to let her go, and yet nobody has given us a proper reason as to why not."

  "You want a reason?"

  Everyone turns to see who spoke, but I don't need to. I recognise the voice. My heart sinks. Someone stands across the other side of the room. He's a young man, older than me by only two or three years. Tall and handsome with sharp blue eyes and a permanent grimace. He scrutinises me, those piercing eyes boring into my own hazel ones. I fight to keep my face expressionless as he speaks.

  "She's a liability."

  Dr Newton frowns, dismay clear on his face.

  "Please, Adam. We've discussed this."

  "And I have made my final decision. Doc, I have the utmost respect for you, and normally I would follow your advice in the faith that you know best. But not this time. The reactions of a first-timer are a massive risk regardless of skill. But taking someone into the city, with no form of communication? That's just reckless. I don't care how many laps she can run, or how precise her aim is. I'm the one in charge of the Scout groups, and I'm saying no."

  I lift my hands, eager to argue back, but he slams his fist down on the table and snarls.

  "And that is final."

  We file out of the meeting room and part ways, each of us returning to our own respective areas. Fairground is a massive plac
e with lots of buildings, so there's a good chance I won't see most of them again until the next meeting. I glance overhead, my eyes caught by the looming Ferris wheel that dominates the park. It creaks a little in the wind, but holds steady.

  Dr Newton steps up beside me and claps a hand on my shoulder. His eyes are full of compassion, and when he speaks, his voice is hushed.

  "Sorry, kid. I tried my best, but I really don't think we're going to be able to talk Adam round. Having said that, we can try again at the next meeting if you want?"

  I shake my head sadly. I can't believe we failed again. I've jumped through so many hoops to get here and still been turned away. My stomach clenches and my eyes fill with something akin to tears, but I brush them away.

  "You sure?" he asks, and I can tell it pains him too. Not so much that I won't get what I want, but that this is another failure in his eyes, another time the Council has turned him away. Guilt rises in my chest and I plaster a false smile onto my face. Sulking about it won’t change anything, won’t accomplish anything but to make me seem childish and dramatic.

  He rubs the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable.

  "Ash, have the rest of the afternoon off."

  I frown, but he pushes on.

  "It's okay. I know you have other things to be doing, and the infirmary is fairly quiet right now. As long as you stay within shouting distance, you'll be fine. Just... have a long, hard think, okay? Decide what you want."

  With that he turns away. I stand motionless, watching until he and the other Council members are gone from my sight. I stare down at my feet, a strange tightness in my chest. It's not sadness exactly, nor anger. It’s not even frustration - just disappointment. I pace the area near the Council building, kicking up small pieces of gravel with my heavy boots. This area used to be a car park for Fairground, but it's been twelve years since it's seen a working vehicle. Now it's just a massive, empty space, bland and boring, with no purpose or meaning. I exhale heavily. Just like me.

  I start walking as I think about what to do now. I followed an idealistic notion – the idea that if I work hard enough, I can get what I want. It didn't work. I suppose I don't have much choice but to get over it, move on, and throw myself into my studies. My idle walk takes me to the bunkers. When I enter I pause, lowering myself to the ground, eager not to disrupt the others. We work shifts here, so many people sleep in the day. The bunker is massive, built of corrugated metal and rotted wood. There's rust in the roof and the whole place smells like mold, but it's home, both to me and the other forty or so women who sleep here. The exact number is always changing - I stopped keeping count years ago.

  I sit on my bunk – a crappy, stained campbed - and root around underneath it before pulling out a large, heavy book. It's so thick that my arms hurt just to hold it, but the weight also feels oddly satisfying in my hands. I pull it close to my chest and head back outside, this time heading towards the main gate.

  The area is cold and deserted. A chill wind shudders through me and I look up at the towers on either side of the gate. I can see the figures of people crouched there, one on each tower. They’re watching the city, poised and ready to warn us should anything appear on the horizon. Of course, nothing ever does, so it's an easy way to do something important without exerting much effort. I stare until I spy a flash of frizzy hair - Bree. She leans back against the railing, her eyes glazed over, her pose relaxed. Above her hang a number of ropes, ready to ring a warning bell if anything approaches.

  As I climb the ladder to the platform, I wonder why we do this. Nothing comes near the gate except birds or the Scout team, and they're not out today. It's been twelve years now, and despite multiple attempts, no bots have been able to break into the sanctuary here at Fairground.

  I poke my head over the top of the ladder and smirk. She sees me and grins, shifting aside to let me up next to her. I throw the book up first and drag myself over the platform to sit next to her.

  "So," she beams, her eyes expectant, "how did it go?"

  I give a half-hearted shrug and shake my head. Her face falls, and her once-sweet smile is replaced by something much more teenage.

  "Are you joking?" she cries, "They still won't let you go? Seriously, who do they think they are?"

  Her hair bobs around her as she speaks, creating a halo around her face. Her dark skin is shiny from sitting in the sun, and there's a crack in her voice when she speaks. I wonder how long she's been up here, waiting for someone - anyone - to take her off duty. It's not fair. Bree is several years younger than the rest of us, and most people ignore her for some reason.

  She turns to me, a snarl curling on her lips.

  "Let me guess. It was Adam, wasn't it? It was that crusty old miser?"

  I feign a silent laugh and give a lackluster smile, but part of me disagrees with her. Adam can be harsh - in fact he's harsh more often than not, but nobody could call him old. At eighteen he became the leader of the Scouts' main team, and in the two years he's been in charge, they've never done so well. He's intelligent and quick thinking, a natural leader. I can't fault him for that.

  But that doesn't mean I like him.

  "Ugh," she moans, "I knew it. That is so unfair. I bet you can do anything he can do, plus you're a doctor!"

  I sign at her. I'm not a doctor. I'm still in training.

  She stares blankly, and I sigh. Clearly, she’s still not picking up the language. But then she laughs, a loud, infectious noise.

  "I have no idea what you just said. Sorry, Ash. I promise I'll keep trying! As for Adam, don't worry about him. He can be as miserable as he wants, but sooner or later they'll need someone to jump in, and you'll be there. Then, he won't have any choice but to recognise you."

  She raises a hand and fans herself, then wipes at her forehead. I grimace at her and point down the ladder. Luckily, she understands this.

  "You're taking me off duty? Are you sure?"

  I point to my book and she nods.

  "Yeah. I guess you have to keep up with that, huh? Okay. I'll get one of the other girls to switch with you once it starts to get dark. Night."

  With that she climbs out of my sight, and I find myself staring at the spot where she just sat. It's not easy to make friends when you can't talk. I find I'm often forgotten, simply because I leave no impression on people. They look past me like I'm not even there. And they're certainly not interested in forming any kind of meaningful relationship with me. I sigh. Why would they be? I contribute nothing to the conversation.

  I pry open the book and peruse the page. I read chapter after chapter on various illnesses and conditions, I examine a number of diagrams and somewhat distressing images, and absorb as much of it as I can. But my brain doesn’t latch onto the knowledge the way it used to. I used to be so passionate about medicine, hungry for the knowledge. The obsession only grew stronger when I thought I had a shot at being a Scout. But now, it leaves me unfulfilled. So I push the book aside and settle for staring out at the city.

  I can never quite get over the sight of it. Vast buildings, each as large as our Ferris wheel, only made of glass and metal and light. The afternoon sun glints off every surface, making the whole place sparkle. Most of the structures close to us are ruined, broken down to the occasional standing wall or burnt-out vehicle; but further in the city exist skyscrapers. They hang overhead, flawless and light and pristine. I've thought so many times about being there, in the white and grey rooms, perfectly built, so different from the metal bunkers and rusted rides here in Fairground.

  The city used to be called Lumis – or as the tourist leaflets called it, ‘The Neon City’. It was known for its many lights, superior technology, and the gentle music that always seemed to fill the air. But it’s been a long time since anyone called it by name. It’s just ‘the city’ now.

  I close my eyes. I hear it. A quiet but constant hum, the sound of thousands, millions of bots working in unison. They fill up the streets, clog up the houses, congregate near the landmarks. Anywh
ere and everywhere that used to house people, now homes only bots. And they're all deadly.

  I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on them. The sound sets me on edge, though I know it's miles away. If I close my eyes tightly enough I can almost imagine them around me, the humming filling my ears and sending waves of terror through me.

  It wasn't always like this. Twelve years ago the bots worked for us. Their every movement, their every action, was controlled by humans. The bots gave us safety, convenience, peace. They did all the things that humans didn't want to do, leaving us to our ridiculous, luxurious lives. It was such a flawless paradise that our leaders had Shard Industries build an immense dome over the city, broken by just one massive gate. The idea was to keep everyone else out; but now, all it does is keep us in.

  We still don't know what happened that day to cause the bots to turn on us. Most likely, the people who do know aren't around anymore. Out of a city of several million, just a few hundred survive. They lurk in alleyways, lock down safehouses, try to scrape by. But honestly, Fairground is the only safe place in Lumis. We have over a hundred people here, living however they can – it’s like our own tiny world. But all I've ever wanted is to be a part of the old one.

  I look across to the other guard tower, to the person waiting there, but I can't see their face. Whoever it is, though, they're clearly resigned to it. They’re curled up under an old blanket, catching up on their sleep. I wish I could sleep anywhere like that. Seems nice.

  I sit quietly for hours, musing over what I did right, what I did wrong and just how badly I may have screwed up. By the time the sun starts to sink into the distance, I feel a pit of misery deep in my gut. This isn't fair. I tried so hard.

  "Oi, Mouse!"

  I wince. Plenty of people here have nicknames, and most seem fairly on point; but mine has always seemed a little cruel. Rather than a term of endearment, it feels like an insult. But I’m not going to complain about being taken off duty.