by Lu, Marie
“You sure you still want to go to the drone race finals?” she says as we step out through the university’s double doors. “Maybe tonight’s not the best night for you to head down to the Undercity. Take some time and cool off, you know?”
But cooling off is the last thing I want to do. I’m always the one cooling off, shaking free. The thought of John’s execution plays over and over again. I have to go. I need to. If I don’t, my mind will burst.
“No,” I reply. “I’ll be there.”
DANIEL
My heart’s still hammering from my evening with June by the time I step out of the elevators and into the streets of the Undercity. My lips still burn from our kiss. A million thoughts run through my mind, and I find myself cursing silently at everything I did.
What a goddy idiot I am. Why didn’t I just tell her exactly how I felt? What kept stopping me in the moment? So what if she doesn’t feel the same way? Am I such a coward that I’d rather not know?
I sigh, indulging in my bad mood as I shove my hands in my pockets and hurry through the grungy streets. If I let myself, I could almost pretend that I’m back walking through Lake at night. Maybe nothing’s changed at all since June and I first got together all those years ago.
By the time I arrive on the scene in the darkest district of the Undercity, there must be at least half a dozen AIS drone vehicles blocking the intersection, their flashing lights painting the buildings in alternating washes of red and yellow, adding to the mess of colors from the neon signs hanging overhead. Jessan and Lara are already here, and when they spot me, they wave me over with grim faces. Some distance away, I see Min Gheren, the AIS director, talking in low voices with some of the police. She and I exchange a brief look of greeting.
“What took you so long?” Jessan asks me as I approach them. “You in the middle of a date or something?”
I glare at her as we walk. Yeah. Only my first kiss in ten years with a girl I’m crazy about. “Something like that,” I mutter back. “What happened here?”
“You’ll see,” Lara interjects from my other side.
The street is crowded with curious onlookers, and police and AIS agents alike keep telling people to get back behind the barricades. The pockmarked street is littered with broken glass, and burn marks against the sidewalks and the walls tell me there was some kind of explosion here. Already, the name hangs unspoken in the air—I can see it in the tense faces of my fellow agents, the way they’re taking extra precautions. This is Dominic Hann’s work.
Then we reach the crime scene, and I halt in my steps.
In the middle of the intersection lies a body laid out so purposefully that there’s no question this was intentional. It’s been sliced open. The face is unrecognizable. Beside me, Jessan and Lara look away from the vicious wounds that lace the corpse. I look on, my heart beating rapidly. An ugly flashback emerges from the dark corners of my mind now, the memory of bodies piled next to me as I woke up among them, terrified and in pain.
The memory is so vivid that I barely register Min coming over to stand beside us. Her lips are folded into a grim line as she studies the body with us.
“It’s him, yeah?” I say to her in the beat of silence that follows. “He did this?”
Min nods toward the telltale red handkerchief tied to the corpse’s ankle. “And he wanted us to know it,” she replies.
The kind of cruelty that Dominic Hann inflicts on his victims is so sharply reminiscent of what the Republic used to be like, what Commander Jameson used to do, that I feel an ominous weight on my chest. This isn’t just the work of a sadistic criminal. This is manipulation, someone trying to send a message. Someone threatening the city with his power.
“Who was he?” I ask as I bend down beside the body. “Do we know yet?”
Lara nods. “A councilman in the President’s inner circle.”
This stops me cold. The President’s inner circle. My eyes go back to the mutilated figure before us. Most of Hann’s past attacks have been against people who couldn’t repay his debts, but an act like this is bold beyond belief. Had this councilman owed him money too? It’s possible. But this isn’t a regular citizen. He had bodyguards. All kinds of security attached to his account.
If Hann was able to do this to a prominent councilman in a coordinated attack, then he’s not only growing more confident, he’s got more connections in powerful places than I thought.
“How did it happen?” I ask.
Jessan runs me through what they already know: that the councilman had gone missing earlier today; that he’d been driven here and dumped at the intersection still alive; that he had then been set on fire. I wince at each graphic detail. My attention goes briefly to people sitting on the curbs now, being interrogated by the police. Probably nearby storeowners, some who might’ve witnessed everything happening.
“And they still managed to get away?” I ask when Jessan finishes.
She shrugs, and Lara nods at the scorched walls. “They seem like they struck fast and hard. It’s not their first time at this game. It’s just the worst one yet.”
I run a hand through my hair in frustration. “But what does Hann want?” I mutter to no one in particular. “Money? Revenge? Do we have any evidence? What does he get out of killing a councilman, aside from all of AIS descending on him like a horde of wasps?”
“No idea, but there was a theft tonight at the East City Laboratories, where a rare energy coil was stolen. No confirmation yet on whether or not these two events are related in any way, but the timing is unusual enough that it’s worth noting.”
My eyes go back to the pitiful remains. We’re going to be the ones to deliver the news to the family.
Min is looking at me with a thoughtful expression. She turns to Jessan and Lara, then gives them a terse nod. “I need you two to gather some more eyewitness accounts,” she says. “Go on. Let me have a word with Daniel.”
They don’t hesitate. As they head off, Min turns to me and lowers her voice. “I know that look, Wing,” she says quietly. “What’s going through your head?”
“That this all looks familiar,” I reply, my eyes still settled on the body.
“The wounds?”
I shake my head. “The political escalation. Up until now, Hann has stayed in his realm, punishing anyone who fails to pay their debts to him or loses a gamble or is a part of some rival gang. But this is different.” I cross my arms. “He’s prepping the people.”
“What do you mean?”
I give her a hard look. If there was ever a time to bring the topic up to her again, it’s now. “You know how I feel about the city’s Level system. I remember what it’s like to be part of the lower class when we’re pushed to our limits.”
At that, Min makes an exasperated sigh. “Daniel. You know my answer to this argument already.”
“Then don’t ask for my opinion,” I say. “But I’m warning you—Hann isn’t a fool. He knows that the number of poor down here is growing, that more people aren’t able to raise their Levels and can’t afford to feed their families. You got flattened Levelers setting up entire rows of tents down here. Hann knows that. He’s already instilled a proper amount of fear in the Undercity—people here are intimidated by him. But he also shows them enough mercy to make them love him. Now he’s attacking the city council. Prominent politicians.” I point at the body. “It’s not a coincidence that Hann decided to put this body on display down here instead of hanging it up in the Sky Floors, where they live. He knows how much the people down here hate the Sky Floor politicians. He wants the people down here to see. To know who’s really running their city.”
Min gives me a skeptical look. “You’re insinuating that Hann wants to stage a coup?” she asks incredulously.
“I’m saying that’s a real possibility,” I argue back.
Min shakes her head in frustration. “Hann doesn’t have that kind of power. You’re telling me he’s going to try seizing the capital of the most advanced nation in
the world?”
“A nation that’s still too young,” I argue back. “That can topple just like anything else.”
She rubs her temples in irritation. “Give me something I can work with. I’ll never be able to convince the council that this is even a remote threat.”
Her expression makes me want to scream. These cracked Antarcticans have never lived through a revolution before. Their country is barely a few decades old. They have no idea how fragile this entire system is. Everything always seems like it’s going fine until suddenly, one day, it’s not.
“All of you think this place is invincible,” I snap. “You don’t see the poison bubbling under the surface, that’s been here since day one.”
“What do you propose we do, then?”
“Find a way to Hann’s side. We’ve had no luck hunting him because our relations with the Undercity are so poor.”
“And how are we going to do that when we don’t know the first thing about him?”
I smile grimly. “I’ve got some insight into how a notorious criminal can be caught by someone from the inside. She did it by becoming someone I could trust. But you need to tell the President that this system is unsustainable. We’re setting the Undercity up for a revolution, and I don’t even think they’re wrong to do it.”
Min still looks unconvinced. She shakes her head. “The President’s not going to like me bringing up this conversation again,” she says. “You know how much he supports the Level system.”
These Sky Floor bastards always try to maintain order by giving themselves all the advantages. Eden’s words linger in my mind, along with his disgust at my working for the AIS.
Sometimes I think you’ve forgotten where you come from.
But I was never the same as someone like Dominic Hann. Hann is a killer.
“You don’t have to talk the President into taking it down,” I reply. “Just tell him how much his own life is at risk. Hann isn’t going to stop at killing a councilman. President Ikari is the prize at the top, and if he wants to stay alive, he needs to do something to quell this.”
Min’s eyes have gone cold again, but she doesn’t dismiss my words. Instead, she nods at me. “Go join the others to gather eyewitness accounts,” she says. “We’ll talk again later.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond before walking away with her hands in her pockets.
Jessan comes up to me as I watch the director go. “I think we’re narrowing down where the drone race’s final is happening,” she says to me, sending me a virtual map of the Undercity.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Yeah. It might be the same place as the semifinal. We’ve pinpointed a few scattered crowds idling on the sides of the streets. Looks like they’re waiting around for drones to pass through.”
“Then it’s happening very soon.”
She nods. “It’s too hard to track the drones, since they move so fast. We can only rely on the gathered crowds.”
“Once those spectators catch on that they’re being watched, they’re going to scatter in a second.” I force myself to turn away from the crime scene. “Show me where the crowds have been spotted.”
As I start to follow Jessan away from the crime scene, I bring up my directory of names and instinctively pick out Eden’s account to send him a message. But he’s offline again, the tracker on his system disabled. Barely a day since our argument, since he almost got a knife to the stomach down in the Undercity, and he’s already at it again, off to do hell knows what. I sigh. What do I have to do to force him to stay put—tie him down in a chair?
Maybe he’s back home, I tell myself. Or out celebrating, as he should be. Today had been his last day of classes, after all, and he could be out with his friends, laughing his head off in some Sky Floor bar.
If I track his location and find him again, he’ll know. And that won’t get me anywhere with getting him to open up. I take a deep breath and try to ignore the nagging feeling in my gut.
But all that swirls through my mind are memories of the days when Eden was lost to me, when the Republic had taken him somewhere and I had no idea where he was. All I remember is seeing him stumble forward through the ash and fog of war from the hospital, and me scooping him into my arms.
Screw this. I give in to my worries, then tap on the icon for Eden’s location. My AIS privileges let me bypass permissions, so that I can track him without his consent.
A small loading icon swirls in the center of my vision as my system traces him.
Ahead of me, Jessan pauses to bring up a virtual map between us. “See?” she says. “We’ve noticed hints of drone spectators crowded along these locations. It’s not much evidence to go off of, but it puts the rough estimate of where the race is happening tonight right … here.”
She points to a spot on the virtual map.
At the same time, my system finishes tracking where Eden is. His location dot appears, bright red, over almost the same spot where Jessan is pointing.
I blink, then frown and shake my head. “Hang on a sec,” I mutter, reloading the geolocator. “I think my system glitched. Show me where the race is on the map again?”
Jessan brings it up again, while Eden’s location also refreshes.
This time, there’s no mistaking what I’m seeing. A sudden wave of dizziness sweeps over me. Eden is exactly where Jessan’s finger is pointing.
He’s down here in the Undercity. And he’s at the drone race.
EDEN
The semifinals of the drone race may have been crowded, but that was nothing compared to tonight.
People squeeze into the already-tight plaza until it’s fit to burst. Those who live in the dilapidated apartments surrounding the square watch from their windows. Some of them look like they’ve charged money for other spectators to come watch from their balconies, because there are packs of people dangling off the side of the upstairs ledges, their legs swinging. Shouts fill the air.
Apparently, word has spread through the underground circles that a last-minute entry surprised everyone and won the first heat last night.
Now I crane my neck, looking through the crowds for any sign of my new patron. Beside me, Pressa keeps my drone tucked securely under her arm and pushes us through the throngs. She impatiently brushes strands of her blond wig from her face as she goes.
“Hey, move out of the way!” she snaps at two large gamblers blocking our path. “You wanna bet on last night’s champion or not? Then let him through so he can set up!”
Barely five feet tall, and yet the people move aside for her, letting her cut a swath through the crowds. I admire the way she throws her shoulders back, and I’m grateful to follow in her wake.
In the center of the square, the virtual display hovering over the space now shows both a countdown clock to the race and a list of tonight’s contestants. Half of the racers have already gathered on the line. I notice a few glances cast in my direction—but this time, the racers look wary. When I meet their gazes, their eyes dart away.
An uneasy feeling churns in the back of my mind. There’s something about the man who became my patron that has reverberated through this space. In some ways, he reminds me of Daniel—he has a natural-born charisma. I think about how he seemed to recognize me in a way that most others never have. And his interest in my drone’s engine …
Pressa nudges me, jolting me out of my thoughts. She nods toward the crowd. “There he is,” she murmurs.
His presence is undeniable. The crowd parts without question for him as he makes his way to the plaza’s clearing. Unlike many down here, he’s dressed in crisp, almost harsh attire, whites and grays underneath a long black coat. Premature silver peppers his hair and stubble. He seems imprevious to all the commotion around him, and indifferent to those watching him walk.
When he sees me, though, he quickens his steps.
“Good to see you here, Eli,” he says to me, resorting to my false name. His eyes dart to Pressa, who still has my drone under her arm. “And all ready to
go.”
“Almost,” I reply. “What happens tonight if we win?”
“If we win, you get a pot ten times larger than the one from last night.” Dominic smiles. “That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?”
“And if we don’t?” Pressa asks.
The man doesn’t seem concerned. “If you don’t, I’ll stay your patron.” He glances at me. “There’s promise in that engine you built. We can do a lot with it, beyond entering it in illegal races like this. I think you’re destined for more.”
Destined for more. I can’t help but feel that same sense of pride welling up in me again. Daniel spends his days worrying more about whether or not I’m alive than what I’ve been working on. The other students at my university couldn’t care less. But Dominic’s words make me stand a little straighter.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” I say to him.
Dominic glances up at the virtual countdown hovering over us. We have five minutes to go. “Then you’d better get to it,” he says to me, and before I can ask him anything else, he’s turned his back to me and stepped toward the crowd.
Here and there, I notice guards in suits watching him, paying attention to his every move. It’s an unsettling contrast to the easy way he talks to me.
Then they’re calling my name to the line, and I return my focus to the race. Pressa’s arms are folded tightly over her chest, and every muscle of her body is pulled taut. She steps closer to me as if to give me a good-luck hug, but stops short, so that we just idle there, with a narrow sliver of space separating us.
Somehow, I get the sense that she also thinks there’s more to winning this race than meets the eye. But for now, that’s my job. And if we win, Pressa’s father can get all the medication he’ll need for the rest of his life.
Pressa nods at me. “Good luck,” she says, flashing me a brief grin. “Not that you need it.”
I don’t know why I feel compelled in this moment. Maybe it’s the flush of her cheeks, or the fear pumping through my veins at the thought of losing this race. But I suddenly lean toward her and, when she doesn’t back away, give her a light kiss on her cheek.
