RONAN The machine shifted again and again, its face already gone, its body reacting to the pressure being forced into it. Extra weight registered along its shell. Its systems must have flagged an intrusion, because it began to twist hard, fast, and without restraint. Every movement threatened to throw me off. My full weight went into holding the drone down. Muscles locked. Teeth clenched. The blade was driven deeper with each strike, hammered in until the metal around it screamed. Once it felt buried far enough that it would not slip free, both hands closed around the hilt. The robot kept twisting, fighting on instinct and code alone. That effort became its weakness. Each time it turned, force was met with force, my body pushing or pulling in the opposite direction, using its own energy against it. Seconds dragged. Metal groaned. The blade finally loosened as the seam widened enough for fingers to fit beneath the plate. The knife was yanked free before it could slide back into my own flesh. One foot slammed against the drone’s chest plate. Every muscle fiber fired at once. The machine toppled backward, crashing flat onto the floor, its frozen legs sticking straight up at a perfect right angle. Nguyen shifted position so the legs were no longer in his way. From above, his eyes tracked every move. A boot planted on the machine’s chest. The other stayed grounded. Fingers jammed into the torn opening. Grip tightened as hard as it would go. Casing ripped and twisted under strain. Each pull made the fasteners give a little more than before. “You can hear me, you son of a bitch!” The shout tore out of my throat. The drone had to be listening. “I’m stripping you down to parts. I will find out who you are. When I do, I’ll come for you. I’ll do to you exactly what you did to me.” Spit flew with the words. Veins stood out along my neck. Another pull bent the metal far enough to see inside. A corner of an atomic memory unit caught the light. That was it. A few more pulls and it would be mine. Then the machine stopped. No resistance. No movement. Just stillness. Focus stayed locked in place. Pain screamed through my ribs. Back muscles burned hot, upper and lower, pushed far past comfort. Fingers felt like they were on fire. Then the smell hit. Acrid. Sharp. Melting plastic. Nguyen shouted something, but the sound came late. Smoke began to rise. Understanding landed all at once. The battery pack was overloading. Seconds remained before everything went up in flames. Hands pulled harder. Composite plating fought back as designed. Bolts held firm. The panel shifted only a fraction of an inch, barely enough to matter. Skin started to burn for real. Flames flickered inside the chest cavity, casting light where there should have been shadow. My right hand pulled. The left forced itself inside the opening. Flesh tore from knuckles as the gap cut deep. Then the air left my lungs. The world spun sideways. A hard impact followed. Weight crushed down. Pain exploded through my ribs. Vision cleared just enough to see Nguyen on top of me. He had thrown himself into my body, dragged me away from the drone. Rolling happened without thought. A lunge back toward the machine followed. Flames leapt higher now. Nguyen’s hand locked around my left calf. No amount of force could break that grip. “Let go!” The shout was raw and broken. “It’s too late!” His voice stayed firm. He pulled me backward across the carpet. Fingers dug into the floor, nails scraping as they searched for purchase. Nothing held. Thick black smoke poured upward. The drone began to melt, and with it went the last real chance to find the one responsible for all of this. Exhaustion took over as I turned toward Nguyen. “The memory storage. I could have gotten it.” His head shook once. “No. Not in time.” “They killed my family.” The words tried to form into something louder, something violent. Nothing came out. The throat closed. Eyes shut on their own. The smell of burning meat filled the air. My body stayed flat on the floor while tears rolled down the bridge of my nose and soaked into the carpet. “They’re all dead.” Silence followed. Metal shrieked. Popping sounds echoed as heat forced it to expand. “We have to leave,” Nguyen said. “More will come.” Bright spots flashed in the fire. Eyes blinked without command. Composite materials cracked. Something that sounded like bones snapped inside the growing blaze. His hand clamped onto my bicep. “We have to go.” The fire alarm screamed to life, sharp pulses stabbing into my ears. Pressure built behind my eyes. Nguyen stood. “You planning on joining your mother?” The fire suppression system answered. Nozzles burst open across the ceiling. Millions of microscopic droplets filled the air. Water turned into mist instantly, a white cloud dropping fast. The fire shrank under the assault, flickered, then died.Standing took effort. Clothes and hair soaked up the mist. Water ran down my forehead, curved beneath my eyes, and fell from my face. Steps carried me to my mother. Her body lay within the stack that had become her final place of rest. The battle had not disturbed her. A kneel. One last kiss pressed to her forehead. Standing again came slower. Nguyen waited nearby, armor darkened by water, uniform heavy and stained. “I need your help with something before we leave,” I said.