Recruitment

by K A Riley

  “I think maybe we should jump to what we came here for,” Hiller says. She’s got a quiver in her voice. She looks at Brohn to see if he’s going to interrupt her again, but he’s back to sitting with his arms crossed and staring daggers at her. The rest of us sit, too.

  “Okay then,” Hiller says at last. “Let’s proceed. Karmine and Kella, for your uncanny abilities with weapons, you have been given the honor of serving in the field of Combat. Karmine and Kella exchange a small nod. They’re looking forward to battle, but I know some of the wind’s been taken out of their sails. They imagined leading all of us into battle. Knowing that we’ll be split up now seems to pain them almost as much as the two of them getting to stay together seems to please them.

  “Come up and receive your insignia.”

  Karmine and Kella stand and walk up to the single step of the raised platform. They approach Hiller who, one at a time, affixes a patch to the lapel of each of their combat jackets. It’s a small black circle with two larger concentric circles around it. I think it’s supposed to be crosshairs, like the ones we stared down so many times at target practice in the Agora gun-training exercises.

  Hiller turns her attention to Rain, who’s sitting on the other side of Brohn. “For your logical thinking, you have been given the honor as serving in the field of Tech.”

  Rain marches up obediently, glancing back at Brohn for some kind of signal about what to do or how to comport herself. But Brohn is still off in his own world. He’s looking at Rain, but honestly, I don’t think he sees her. She turns her attention back to Hiller and leans back a little as Hiller puts a different insignia on her lapel. This one is in the shape of an arrow, formed by thick black lines and open on one end.

  Rain gives Hiller a half-smile and two very sarcastic thumbs’ up as she steps off the stage and walks back to her seat.

  Ignoring her, Hiller moves on to Cardyn. “Cardyn, for your kindness, loyalty, and for your inquisitive mind and intuition, you have been given the honor of serving in Intelligence.” Cardyn takes his turn walking up to receive the key-shaped insignia with a small heart for a head that Hiller pins to his lapel as he tries without success to suppress a smile of pride.

  “Great,” he says to me under his breath. “I guess.”

  Hiller turns to the three of us remaining and points to us one at a time. “Brohn, for your leadership and strength of character…Kress, for your mental acuity and uncanny degree of empathy…Amaranthine, for your ingenuity and techno-abilities, and to all three of you for your cleverness, adaptability, and ingenuity…you have each been assigned to Special Ops, the most elite and sought-after of the four deployments!”

  Brohn’s frown eases, but just a bit. He nods and forces the hint of a smile. Amaranthine has been staring at the ground and doesn’t even look up when her name is called. As for me, Special Ops should be a dream come true. What started out as a vague myth has become a reality that’s somehow landed right in my lap.

  Amaranthine and I follow Brohn up to Hiller’s small stage where she gives us our insignias. Brohn and Amaranthine quietly accept their reward, but I do a double-take when I see the design:

  “It’s impossible,” I say under my breath. It’s the trinket from my dream, the one I saw pinned to the thirteen kids murdered by Trench in the woods out behind the Processor. I know Brohn thinks it was just a dream. But if this is a coincidence, it’s one that’s freaking me out beyond any capacity for rational thought.

  Hiller puts a hand on my shoulder and says, “You deserve this, Kress.”

  I should be happy. After all, I’m getting exactly what I wanted. In many ways, this is a dream come true. In many other ways, it’s the realization of a nightmare. I’ve succeeded. I’ve even excelled. But after all we’ve been through, after all the tests and training, getting exactly what I want doesn’t seem all that important anymore. In fact, it seems downright terrifying.

  When we’re back in the Silo, the others admire their new trinkets. Even Amaranthine is lying face-up on her cot, absently stroking the image of the black bird still pinned to her jacket.

  For me, though, the image of the bird on the insignia is horrific.

  23

  I’m lying on my cot with a t-shirt over my face and the beginnings of a massive headache expanding like a balloon behind my eyes. On the cots around me, the others are carrying on a conversation I can barely focus on enough to follow. The voices blend into one another, an overlapping but steady flow of thoughts, worries, and feelings.

  “What do you think Granden meant by the time table being stepped up?”

  “I have a feeling we’re about to be attacked.”

  “The Order?”

  “No way. Hiller said we’re safe.”

  “That’s true. But she also said the Order was making a big push and might be preparing some big final assault to win the war. What if that’s the cause for all the urgency? What if Hiller knows we’re sitting ducks?”

  “You think they might be rushing our deployment because we could—?”

  “Be attacked any minute now? Yes.”

  “Then we need to get out of here. If they won’t give us any answers, we need to get our own.”

  “Even if we wanted to sneak out of here, we already know it’s impossible.”

  “If there is an invasion about to happen, what if they lock us down here again, only this time on purpose?”

  “No way. The last time was just a glitch. A stupid power-outage. You really think they’d leave us here on purpose to die? Especially when we could actually help them fight if the Order really does attack the Processor?”

  “We’ve got to find out for sure.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  I cringe as a throb of pain blasts through my head, but it subsides quickly to be replaced by what feels like a wave of warm water.

  It’s Render.

  He’s telling me to fly.

  No. That’s not it exactly.

  Render has more than one way to express flight. This isn’t his fly-high-reconnaissance version of flight. It’s not his escape-from-danger version. Or his refreshing sun-on-my-back version. It’s closer to his spiraling-search-for-food version. It’s like he’s telling me to climb. To ascend. To circle.

  It doesn’t make sense at first. And then I look up at the ceiling. Up there somewhere above us is the Halo, slowly rotating and glistening silver in the reddish-black of the frosty night. And suddenly it makes perfect sense.

  “What did Hiller say all those weeks ago about accessing the Halo?” I ask aloud. “Something about tunnels or conduits?”

  “No,” Cardyn says. “It was ‘sky-bridges.’ ‘Retractable sky-bridges.’ She said they run from each Cube across to the Halo. They must use them at night when we’re down here.”

  “Then that’s where we need to get to.”

  “Need to get to?” Kella asks. “For what?”

  “You’re right,” I say. “All of you. There’s something here to be worried about. But it’s not what we think.”

  “Then what is it?” Rain asks.

  “I’m not sure. It’s a feeling. But it’s one I need you to trust.”

  No one says anything at first, but then Brohn pushes himself up from his cot. “You don’t need to ask us to trust you, Kress. I think I speak for all of us when I say that our trust in you is automatic.”

  The others nod in agreement and stand up to join Brohn.

  “We need to get out of here,” I say. “Out of the Silo. Tonight. Right now. We need to get up to the Cube.”

  “Which Cube?” Cardyn asks.

  “Theta Cube is where the control center is,” I say.

  “And how do you…?”

  “Render. I’ve sent him on a few missions over the past few weeks. I didn’t find out a lot. But I know that much. I’m kind of connected with him right now—not a strong connection—it’s almost gone, actually. But he wants us up there. I can see images of the Theta Cube and its skybridge in
his mind.”

  Brohn paces the room, his eyes on the ceiling. “Question is, how do we get out of here?”

  We’ve already determined that there’s no way out of the Silo. We were trapped in here for nearly a week, and, in all that time, we couldn’t figure out a way to escape. There are no hidden doors. No secret codes. No air vents to crawl through. Cardyn points out that we don’t even know how far we are underground. “The Capsules always take us up so fast,” he says. “It could be twenty or thirty feet…”

  “Or a thousand,” Brohn continues. “So what now?”

  Moving as one, we all look over at Amaranthine at the same time.

  She looks up from where she’s been busily picking at a spot on her arm with her fingernail. “Um. No,” she says with a determined shake of her head.

  Brohn grips my elbow and nods in Manthy’s direction. I guess that’s my cue. He and the others quietly retreat into the Mess Hall, leaving me alone on the cots in the Dormitory with Manthy.

  I’ve known her for sixteen years. We all have. We’ve all known each other our entire lives. But none of us really knows Amaranthine at all. No one’s close to her. Most people back in the Valta either mocked her, were afraid of her, or just ignored her. I’m not sure which was worse for her. I’m not sure why I never asked.

  I’m also not sure how I got assigned to be the Manthy-whisperer.

  “Listen,” I begin as I sit down next to her on her cot. “This could be nothing. It could also be everything. If I could do it myself, I would. But I can’t. No one can. Maybe no one on this entire planet, except you. I know that’s a lot of pressure. But, Manthy, we need to get out of here. I mean we really need to get out of here. As in, our lives may depend on it. I feel it. I know it.” I flick my thumb skyward. “Something’s going on up there that they’re not telling us about. It may be part of the training. Or it really could be an invasion about to happen. But forget about all that. Forget about the tests and the war and the Order. Forget about the deployment. For right now, we need to figure out what’s happening up there. We need to know how much danger we’re in and what we can do to help. We need five minutes of freedom. And you’re the only one who can get it for us.”

  Amaranthine looks over at me and then down at the floor between her feet. Her voice creaks a little, like she’s using it for the first time. “I don’t know how I did that before, back in the VR-sim.”

  I put my hand on her knee, half-expecting her to shoo me off, but she doesn’t. “I don’t know how I connect with Render,” I say. “But we need to do things in order. We need to survive first. After that, we can figure out how we survived.”

  Manthy gives me an unexpected smile and a very welcome nod. “I’ll try.”

  “That’s great!”

  “But, Kress…”

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t guarantee…I mean, I don’t know if I can…”

  “Hey. It’s okay, Manthy. If it works, great. If not, we’ll try something else. There’s no pressure and no expectations. Just a little bit of hope and a whole lot of faith in you. Not even that you’ll succeed and get us out of here…just that you’ll try. Hiller may get her kicks out of grading us, but no one really cares about grades. You can’t put a number on what we mean to each other.” I give her knee a little shake.

  Amaranthine nods. I stand up and call out to the others in the Mess Hall. “Brohn. Guys. Come on in. Manthy’s going to give it a shot.”

  We gather around and try not to distract her as she closes her eyes and sits cross-legged on her cot. Cardyn keeps looking at me for guidance, like I’m supposed to know what she’s doing or how she’s doing it. I shake my head, and he turns his attention back to Amaranthine whose face is growing contorted with effort. Trickles of sweat weave down her cheeks. Of all of us, I’m the only one who knows even a little bit about what she’s going through. From the outside, my connection with Render might seem effortless, like a clever parlor trick. But inside my head, it’s a disorienting and sometimes painful experience. I’m thankful for the connections I make with him, but each time is also a reminder of how closed-off and limited the human mind really is.

  After about two minutes that feel like twenty, Manthy opens her eyes. “I’m done,” she says.

  “You’re done what?” Kella asks with a trace of impatience. “Were you able to connect with the system? Can you get us out of here?”

  Manthy nods. “I think so. I think I was able to tap into a security override or something. I don’t know the tech, though. I don’t know for sure…”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t need to know it in your head. Not like you know regular things. This is a different kind of knowing.”

  She looks up at me. “But, Kress…it hurts.”

  I put my arm around her shoulder and help her to her feet. “I know,” I say as we make our way over to the Capsule Pads. “It really does get better. I promise.”

  Manthy closes her eyes again, and the yellow lights at the base of the pads spring to life. We step on and, for the first time in months, we rise to the surface in the middle of the night instead of first thing in the morning.

  Outside, the Agora is as misty and creepy as a graveyard. The guard turrets are empty, and the eight black Cubes are barely visible in the moonless night. Above us, the Halo looks especially eerie as it now sits deadly still in the night sky. Its silver surface seems to absorb light instead of reflecting it, which is fine with us. We’ve crossed a line now, and we know it. No more punishment or docked points. If we get caught now, it’ll be military prison for us for sure. If we’re lucky.

  But we’ve reached an impasse. Our situation has become intolerable. Something has to give.

  I can’t see Render out there anywhere, and I’m glad. The last thing I need is for him to sense my presence and come flying out of the trees, distracting any eyes that may be watching for movement.

  More out of instinct than necessity, we crouch low and scurry across the Agora towards the last two Cubes of the octagon. I stop us in front of the turret and fenced walkway that lead to the Eta Cube with a large “Η,” the Greek symbol for “Eta,” above the door.

  “Rain, you take Cardyn, Karmine, and Kella. Hiller said that Terk was being treated in the Eta Cube. You four get in there, find him, and meet us in the Theta Cube. They don’t seem to lock the Cubes. Every time they’ve escorted us in, the door just opens. There are no guards in the turrets, so it should be smooth sailing.”

  “Does it strike anyone as weird that no one’s in the towers?” Kella says nervously.

  “They’re on patrol outside the perimeter,” I say, recalling my vision from the other night.

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “I just know.” I shoot her a glance that tells her I don’t want to say anymore.

  “Kress just said this would be smooth sailing. Don’t jinx it!” Cardyn says to Kella in a loudish whisper. We all cross our fingers and then cross our arms over our chests: our tried and true method from the Valta for staving off bad luck.

  I smile actually my thanks to Cardyn and continue doling out instructions.

  “I don’t know what kind of shape Terk’ll be in, so be prepared to help him out. Be sure to grab any medical supplies you can get your hands on. Bandages. Gauze. Any pain-killers or antibiotics they might have lying around. And a bag to carry them in. We could be on the run for a while. I’m not about to head out into the woods without provisions. So any food you can find, too.”

  “What about you three?” Rain asks.

  “We’ve got to get up there,” I say, pointing up to the Halo. “There are security protocols we’ll still need to override if we want to get out of here. I’ll lead us up there. Hopefully, Amaranthine can work a bit more of her magic. I hate to have us split up, but we’ve got two jobs to do and not enough time to do them both together. Let’s make this quick. In, out, and rendezvous back here.”

  It’s only after I finish calling out my plans that I realize t
wo things: I’ve somehow taken on the role of leader in our Conspiracy, and I’ve kept myself, Brohn, and Amaranthine together. We’re the newly-crowned Special Ops group. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence, if it’s clever, subconscious strategizing, or if Hiller got it right and the three of us are destined to be teamed up and forever in synch.

  While Rain and her team head off to find Terk, the three of us slip over to the Theta Cube, the last of the eight around the Agora and one we haven’t been in before. Under the “Θ” symbol, the door is unlocked. It’s the first sign of carelessness, complacency, laziness, or just plain stupidity I’ve seen since we first walked in here months ago. I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s comforting to know that even the great and powerful guardians of the Processor are less than perfect. Brohn eases the door open, but then steps back and lets Amaranthine take the lead. She doesn’t seem to question his decision and walks briskly ahead with me and Brohn padding along behind her. She leads us up four long sets of concrete stairs with a landing in between each flight. Despite our best efforts at stealth, our boots echo in the empty space.

  At the top of the stairs, we’re stopped by a locked door. It’s an old-style door, the kind with a handle and an internal lock, not like the pneumatic doors or energy portals we’re mostly used to. At first, I think our luck has run out, but Brohn steps forward. From inside his jacket pocket, he produces a folded combat knife, which makes a strong metallic click as he snaps it open.

  “A little something I snagged from our last training exercise,” he says with a wry smile. He opens his jacket and taps the bulging interior pocket. “Got a few of them,” he says. “Just in case. Gave a couple to Rain as well.”

  He jams the blade into the door’s locking mechanism as far as it’ll go. Then he takes a step back, raises his foot, and slams the heel of his boot against the end of the knife’s solid black handle. The blade slices deeper into the lock, and we hear the satisfying sound of tumblers cracking. Brohn yanks the knife out with two hands, turns the silver handle, and eases the door open.