The Last City by Nina D'Aleo

room, where she could press her face into her pillow and cry as loudly as she needed to.
    ‘Silho.’
    A voice jolted her out of her reverie and she turned to the imp-breed tracker, Eli Anklebiter, standing beside her.
    ‘Sorry, I meant to startle you – I mean, I did not mean to startle you . . .’ He tripped over his words and angry red splotches broke out all over his neck.
    Silho considered him. He was short and slight with a shaved head and protuberant ears. His large, dark eyes sparkled and a mischievous smile played constantly at the corners of his mouth. His bloodline marks were a harlequin colour struggle between the blue stripes of a Glee and the purple dots of a Greer. That explained a lot.
    ‘How . . . how are you holding up?’ he asked.
    Silho opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Diega calling out beside them,
    ‘ Eizenef aregz’amon .’ With an unnecessarily loud crack of Fen magics, she morphed the tracker’s transflyer, the Ory-4 , into a silver coin and then pushed it into her pocket.
    The commander spoke to the group. ‘Number 201 Berry. Move out.’ He stepped out into the street and everyone fell in silently behind him. They walked along the avenue lined with identical straight-trunk trees pruned to a tedium of perfection. Tall street lamps, placed at exact and equal intervals behind the trees, blazed above their branches. Silho kept a vigilant watch on her surroundings as much as she could with the sick haze veiling her sights. She looked up into the lights and saw that no bugs swarmed the glowing globes.
    Eli, trotting at her side, noticed her looking and said, ‘It’s because of the nets, super-fine Wraith-woven silks, encircling the entire suburb. They keep everything out.’
    ‘Look at this trutting place.’ Diega sneered at the angular mansions completely encircled by front, side and sky gates like big cages. Silho stared at all the darkened windows, searching for some light.
    ‘Not a soul in sight,’ Eli commented.
    ‘Murder tends to scare away the well-to-do,’ Diega said nastily. ‘In case they get blood on their fine linen and manicured hands.’
    Silho noticed Jude grit his teeth. SevenM, riding on his shoulder, stroked the side of the Ar Antarian’s face with one multi-jointed leg in a soothing motion. She’d been too stressed to really think about it when they’d first met, but it now occurred to Silho how strange it actually was for an Ar Antarian to be a tracker – or any kind of active soldier for that matter. Ar Antarians, the upper-level racial group to which the king of Scorpia, Miron U, belonged, usually held positions of power and left the grunt work for everyone else. Jude was obviously an exception – and obviously not afraid of murder.
    As they neared the end of the street, Silho registered a shift of shadows up ahead. She blinked into light-form vision and saw a glowing figure standing beside an open gate in front of one of the houses. The person saw them as well and drew back. Silho hesitated, but when the others didn’t pause or draw their weapons, she continued on as well. They took several more steps before she placed the shape and size of the form as belonging to a machine-breed. When they came within talking distance, the Androt stepped out into a pool of light and Silho changed back to normal sight.
    The Androt woman wore a white uniform with a blue servant’s apron. Her dark hair was pulled severely back into a low bun, exposing the barcode numbers on her neck – 363430. She wrung her hands like a wet cloth.
    Copernicus spoke to her. ‘United Regiment Oscuri Trackers.’ He held up his identification, but the Androt didn’t look at it, gazing instead at their faces, studying their facial features and movements with expert, robotic precision.
    ‘You called about a suspected murder.’ Copernicus pocketed his ID.
    ‘Yes, sir.’ She spoke with a lowered voice. ‘If you wish, I’ll show you in.’
    ‘Show us,’ Copernicus