The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,68

her? The obvious choice is to stay put—the combination of earthquake aftershocks and a nearby tsunami are a lethal pair—but the thought of anything happening to Naomi springs me into action.

I back away from the crowd, flattening my body as I approach the tunnel opening. When I’m somewhat confident no one is looking, I jump out of the tunnel—making it a second before the door closes.

I watch as the bunker seals shut, leaving me exposed to the elements. And then I run to the stairs, stumbling down the last few steps as the angry earth shudders with aftershocks. Once I reach the fourth floor, I find the shattered windowpanes I was expecting, and I weave around the thick broken shards until I spot a lithe figure up ahead.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yell as I catch up to her.

Naomi spins around and shines her flashlight on me. But then she keeps moving. “This is my shot,” she pants. “The robots are alone. I’ll never get a chance like this again.”

“Are you out of your mind? How could you risk your life for this—this experiment?” I sputter.

“If I get the proof I suspect, I’ll be saving lives—six of them,” she shoots back. “Don’t worry about me, please. Just go back to the others.”

I shake my head in frustration. “I’m not leaving you now.”

I follow as she races to the robotics lab, barely able to hear myself think through the rumble of thunder and the shrieking wind outside. We reach the blue-painted door, and I’m just about to remind Naomi that we can’t get in without a pass—until she turns the handle and it swings open.

“How did that happen?”

“It’s an electronic lock,” she explains, pulling me inside with her. “When the power went out, the locks were disabled. Same with the cameras.”

“So then aren’t the robots shut down, too? In which case, what are we doing here?”

“The AIs run on solar power, since they were built specifically for the spacecraft,” Naomi says. “So the blackout doesn’t affect them—it only affects their surroundings.”

We step into the lab, which looks eerier than usual under the pale glow of our flashlights. I bump straight into a robot under construction, and I cover my mouth as its dismembered head sways on its stand, toppling to the floor with a thud.

“Oh, no,” I moan.

Naomi shushes me, pulling me toward the two glowing sleep pods in the center of the room.

“I’m going into Dot’s,” she tells me, pointing at the pod on the right. “Can you keep watch and make sure Cyb doesn’t come out of Sleep Mode—and that no one comes in?”

“Um. What exactly are you planning to do?”

“You’ll see,” she says grimly. “Wish me luck.”

“This is crazy,” I mumble, positioning myself between Cyb’s pod and the door. I watch as Naomi takes a deep breath and lifts the lid on Dot’s pod. Dot’s artificial eyes snap open, and my stomach jumps—but Naomi murmurs something to the machine while quickly turning two of the knobs inside the pod. Suddenly Dot’s eyes are closed again, her chassis lifeless.

“Can you hand me a screwdriver?” she calls out.

“What? Where?” I can’t stop staring at Dot. What did Naomi do to her?

“We’re in a robotics lab. There should be a screwdriver on every desk. While you’re at it, you might want to grab a stun gun, too . . . just to be safe.”

“Excuse me?”

Naomi pauses. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s just a precaution, in case Cyb wakes up while I’m in here. The electric shock will disable the AI and freeze his memory for three minutes, giving us enough time to get away—and then he’ll be fine.”

I reluctantly leave my guard position and make my way to the first desk I see, rummaging through the mess of tools until I find a screwdriver—and a small metal stun gun, the size of one of my father’s old fountain pens. I shove it in my pocket, and as I hand the screwdriver to Naomi, I can’t help saying, “I love how you thought you could do this without any help.”

“Well, I could have,” she replies. “It just would have taken me longer. But . . . thank you.”

I return to my watch as Naomi uses the screwdriver to pry open a recessed compartment in the robot’s back—leaving Dot with a gaping hole. I’m slightly horrified and yet also fascinated by the sight. And then Naomi pulls something small and shiny from her pocket . . . and plugs