Read Online Siege by Mark Alpert - Free Book Online

keep in touch with some of the families of fallen soldiers, so I heard what happened. I made contact with Amber and told her about the Pioneer Project.”
    Zia raises her right arm and snaps off another salute. Out of respect, I guess. “Sir, I volunteer to assist in training Ms. Wilson after she becomes a Pioneer. I would consider it an honor.”
    â€œThat’s a fine sentiment, Allawi, but you’re a little premature. Right now we’re focused on getting Amber ready for the procedure. We haven’t created any new Pioneers in the past six months, so we have to make sure the brain scanner still works. As you may remember, it’s an extremely complex and challenging procedure.”
    â€œWell, can I talk to her before the procedure, sir? She might be feeling nervous about it, and I can help reassure her.”
    Hawke pretends to think about it for a few seconds, but I know what he’s going to say. The sight of Zia’s War-bot is anything but reassuring.
    â€œI appreciate your intentions,” the general replies. “But it’s not a good idea. Amber’s in the final stage of her illness and her state of mind is fragile. She says she definitely wants to go through with the procedure, but she’s made it clear that she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
    Zia takes a step backward. I know she’s disappointed. Her father also served in the Army under Hawke’s command, and so she probably empathizes with the Wilson girl. But Zia has a hidden motive too, a secret that even Marshall doesn’t know. I discovered it six months ago when Zia went on a rampage and I had to transfer myself to her circuits to stop her from obliterating my robot. As our thoughts came together, I viewed all of her memories, every incident and emotion she’d felt since she was a toddler, and in the process I learned that Zia was obsessed about Hawke’s connection with her parents.
    Both her father and mother died in Iraq, under mysterious circumstances, when Zia was just five. She suffered a lot in the following years, first in foster homes and then in juvenile detention centers, and even though that part of her life is long over, she still wants to know why both her parents were in Iraq and exactly what killed them. And because Amber has her own connection to Hawke, I bet Zia wants to ask her a few questions about the general.
    Hawke turns away from Zia and eyes the rest of us. He’s still holding the photograph of Amber for us to see. “I’m sure all of you understand what Ms. Wilson is going through, because you all experienced it yourselves. So let’s give her a little space, okay? With any luck, she’ll get through the procedure all right and quickly adjust. I’ll let you know when I think she’s ready to join the team.”
    No one responds to this. Hawke is right—we all know how hard this must be for Amber—and yet his decision to isolate the girl seems wrong. He’s not doing her any favors by preventing us from visiting her. He should encourage Amber to see what her future looks like, to witness what she’s going to become.
    The general slips the photo back into his fatigues, but I’ve already memorized it. In my circuits I examine the image of the goth girl from Tulsa, so frail and unhappy. I can picture her in one of the hospital beds on the top floor of our headquarters, where the brain-scanning equipment is kept. I imagine her taking off her fright wig and running her skeletal hands over her bare scalp.
    Then a new thought arcs across my electronics, and the image in my memory files undergoes a transformation. The goth girl disappears and is replaced by another dying seventeen-year-old, a girl who was just as painfully thin as Amber but wore cashmere sweaters instead of black corsets and choke collars. It’s an image of Jenny Harris, a memory of the first time we met, before we were both turned into Pioneers. Amber