TRUEL1F3 (Truelife)

From the bestselling co-author of the Illuminae Files comes the thrilling finale in the LIFEL1K3 trilogy--hailed by Marie Lu as "a breathless, action-packed exploration of what humanity really means."

Best friends have become enemies. Lovers have become strangers. And deciding whose side you're on could be the difference between life and death. For Eve and Lemon, discovering the truth about themselves--and each other--was too much for their friendship to take. But with the country on the brink of a new world war--this time between the BioMaas swarm at CityHive and Daedalus's army at Megopolis, loyalties will be pushed to the brink, unlikely alliances will form and with them, betrayals. But the threat doesn't stop there, because the lifelikes are determined to access the program that will set every robot free. In the end, violent clashes and heartbreaking choices reveal the true heroes . . . and they may not be who you think they are.

Leseprobe:

3.1

Calamity

Cricket was sure of only one thing.

The WarBot stood in the town square of New Bethlehem, a sun-bright calamity unfolding above him. The city about him was in ruins, the streets choked with smoke, dust, panicked citizens. There was so much input, it was difficult for him to process it all. But above the imperatives of his programming, the knife-sharp alarms blaring inside his head, the need to save the humans screaming and praying and panicking all about him, a single thought was ringing in his mind.

I don t want to die.

The logika knew he wasn t alive in the strictest sense. He had hydraulics, not muscles. Armor, not skin. There was no electronic afterlife where toasters and microwaves sat around on synthesized clouds, listening to digital harps. Cricket was blessed with the certainty that once he stopped, he just . . . stopped. But even if the Laws of Robotics didn t make self-preservation the third most important imperativ e in his hierarchy of needs, the truth was, Cricket had decided he liked existing.

Though his so-called life hadn t been much more than struggle and anguish lately, it was also filled with possibility. In the past few days, Cricket had made enemies and found friends, had his eyes opened and his world turned upside down. Everything felt bigger, and Cricket felt like he was changing--evolving into something more than he d ever thought he could be. He felt like he was more.

Sadly, nukes don t care about your feelings.

All of you need to run! Cricket roared. There s a missile coming!

Electronic panic flooded the big bot s systems as he stomped up to the broken gates of New Bethlehem, a payload of nuclear fire streaking in out of the sky above. This settlement was home to the dreaded Brotherhood, a cult of religious fanatics who practiced an awful form of genetic purity. But even though the city was peopled with the pond scum of humanity, they were st ill human, and Cricket was forced to try and protect their lives.

Thing of it was, there was no protecting anyone here. As he d flown away with Evie in the belly of his flex-wing transport, that scumbag Preacher had warned Cricket the missile was on its way. The WarBot knew there was nowhere to run--the blast would simply be too massive to escape. But still, the First Law was screaming in Cricket s mind. His only concern: the hundreds of humans still in New Bethlehem. He had to help them. He had to save them.

But how do you save the unsavable?

He looked up into the cigarette sky, data scrolling down his optics as he scanned the gray. He saw a tiny black shape burning in out of the heavens like a thunderbolt. Electric despair washed over him. Thinking about Evie. About Lemon. About everything he d fought for, everything he d lost, glad in the end that he wasn t alone. Solomon was here, at least, the sassy logika perched on his shoulder. Abraham was with him, too, cradled in one massive palm. During the chaos of the lifelike attack, the boy had done himself proud--he d saved the city from burning, even though the citizens and his own mother had been ready to nail him to a cross for his impurity.

But in the end, it had been for nothing.

Only a miracle could save them now.

Crick patted Solomon on his metal knee, cradled Abraham to his chest.

I m sorry, Cricket said.

He felt a knocking on the side of his head and turned to look at Solomon one last time. The spindly logika needed to bang on Cricket s metal skull to get his attention--the WarBot had deafened himself to avoid having to take more orders. He saw Solomon pointing east across New Bethlehem s smoking walls, the wrecked cars, the ash and ruin. There, glinti