Burchard ran on a classist, anti-welfare platform that blamed the depression on the poor and promised to cancel all of the UNA’s debts to “predatory” lenders. When he was elected, diplomatic ties with foreign countries were either severed or severely damaged, the CRAS was instituted to “relieve” the poor of the burden of children, and taxation of the rich was basically halted. Instead the government relied on “administrative fees” from adoptions and heavier taxation of middle and lower classes for its existence. The government claimed that the country was in a steady state of improvement. But as the lower class’s wages dropped lower and lower, the flow of taxes dwindled. Now, thirty years later and with the original Burchard dead and his son, Jackson Burchard, in charge, things were bad. And the government didn’t care if the poor were suffering.
“Jackson Burchard is merely a puppet. A cabal of ultra-rich officials are actually running the show now. And their only concern is building their own personal wealth. The UNA’s coffers are basically an open expense account for private jets, six-story homes, and luxuries for the top government executives. And since they are no longer making much money on public taxation, that means they are making money doing something else. Something that they aren’t telling the public about,” Corona said.
The room was silent as we listened to Corona and tried to understand what all this meant. We already knew the government was openly making money off of stealing children and adopting them out to the wealthy, as well as taxing the lower classes into utter destitution. Was Corona saying that there was something even worse than that, something that the government was hiding? If so, we weren’t dealing with a government anymore.
We were fighting real-life monsters.
15
“This is our end goal: to discover this secret source of income and then destroy it. If we can cut off the money supply, we might be able to cripple the government enough to attack. It’s our only chance.”
The room was dead silent when Corona finished her remarks. The fact that the regime wasn’t able to support itself through taxation anymore and must have been involved in some form of money laundering to support itself was disturbing enough. But whatever it was had to be bad. I thought back to the warehouse mission from the early days of Operation Hood, and the auction site we’d stumbled upon. Was the government selling children to make money? Were they getting this extra income from selling lobotomized people to factories through Helping Hands? Or was it some awful combination of those things, and maybe even other horrors that we hadn’t yet discovered? The possibilities were endless and terrifying.
“I’m sorry,” Luka timidly began, “but did you say that we were going to attack the government? Surely you don’t mean a head-on attack.”
Corona nodded. “That’s one of the options we have been discussing, yes.”
“It’s a suicide mission,” Sy said. “We don’t have enough people.”
I was surprised to hear that he didn’t have faith in the mission, due to his close relationship with Nathan. But, then again, Nathan wasn’t here. Maybe Nathan didn’t agree with any of this and Sy knew that.
“So then, what are the other options?” Jace asked.
It was a smart question, and a way to avoid getting entangled in an argument over logistics too early in the planning.
“Infiltration,” Corona replied. “But that’s a long game. It took years just to get into one holding center in Smally. It could take decades to get people high enough into the regime itself to give us anything.”
I thought about Aurora. That was one person who was already there and able to provide us information. But they would obviously need many more double agents to do any real damage. And Corona was right; that wouldn’t happen overnight.
“Any others?” Bridge asked.
“Expansion,” Corona replied. “Taking Little John out of the shadows and trying to turn the tide of public opinion against the government. If we can make this a national movement, rather than a single organization’s operation, then maybe it’ll be an easier battle.”
“But turning the public against the government will be a battle all on its own,” Fiora said. “Personally, I think it’s the right choice. But I don’t want anyone to think it’ll be easy.”
“So that’s three choices,” I said. “Is that all?”
“No.”
I looked behind me to see that Nathan had entered the room. He still looked worn down and stressed out, with bags under his eyes and none of his usual charisma and bravado, but it was undeniably relieving to see him in the meeting.
He looked at me as he entered, since he was answering my question, but then he began to speak to the entire room.
“We have a final option,” he continued. “Disbandment.”
My heart sank. So much for the relief I had just felt. Was Nathan honestly suggesting that we give up?
“Temporary disbandment,” Corona added. “For safety’s sake.”
“But how are we safer if we’re stagnant?” I asked incredulously. “Aren’t we already in danger as is? If we stop making progress—”
“You wouldn’t be in danger anymore,” Nathan interrupted, “because we’d dissolve the bases. You’d go back to your old lives.”
“Until we call you back. Just until this storm blows over,” Corona interjected again.
But it didn’t sound like Nathan was even interested in regrouping at all. Only Corona was talking about a reunion. Nathan was talking about splitting up, and it sounded like he wanted it to be permanent.
Was this the same man I had entrusted with my life and my future? Was this the same man who had once been so sure that we should fight and that we could win?
What had happened to the Nathan that I thought I knew?
“Some of us don’t have lives to go back to,” I said coldly. “Some of us gave up our identities to be here.”
“You would get new identities assigned to you so that you can go back to work,” Nathan replied.
Go back to work? In the factories? That was a death sentence. How could Nathan earnestly be suggesting this right now?
Did he even care about us?
“It’s just another option to consider,” Corona said, playing peacemaker per usual. “We’re just giving people that choice. We’re going to vote on these options as a team, in true democratic fashion.”
But it seemed obvious what Nathan was voting for. And that was filling me with dread and uncertainty. If Nathan’s choice was to “disband,” then why should we have any faith in his ability to continue to lead if we chose one of the other options?
“Then let’s vote,” Jace said strongly.
I looked over at him and saw that his jaw was tight with tension. I knew he felt the same way I did. Our faith in Nathan was being shaken, and we were no longer confident in our leader. And that was a horrible thing.
“Very well,” Corona replied. “We’ll be casting private votes to avoid any pressure. Write your vote out and return it to us. We’ll tally them, discuss, and then call you back.”
Liza grabbed a small pile of paper scraps and pens off of Fiora’s desk and began to pass them around the room. Jace and I each got ours and immediately wrote out our votes. Mine was easy. I scribbled it out hastily but legibly, pouring my hopes into it.
Expand.
I felt like it was our best choice. We needed to get the public on our side and keep fighting. There was no way I could ever return to factory life, not after feeling like I was actually making a difference and fighting for what was right. And I felt confident that the rest of Team Hood would feel similarly about that.
There was no going back.
“The meeting is adjourned. Please fold up your votes and bring them to the desk before you exit,” Corona said.
Jace and I stood and walked to the front of the room with our votes. I placed mine down on the desk in front of Corona, Fiora, Evers, Liza, and Arlo, and so did Jace. Then we turned and headed for the door. We passed Nathan as we left and, brief
ly, our eyes met. I saw something surprising in his gaze. It looked almost apologetic, like he knew he was disappointing us. But I didn’t return the gentle look. I was angry, and I was disappointed. And Nathan needed to know that.
I felt sympathy for him. I knew his faith in his team was shaken, and I knew that he had lost a dear friend and almost lost the love of his life. But we had lost a friend, too. I had almost lost my mother. We were just as afraid and confused as Nathan was, maybe even more so. So he needed to get back to being the leader that we needed.
And I wanted to hold him accountable for that. But I wondered what good it would do. Corona and Fiora had both known Nathan for much longer, and they also had authority. Even if Jace and I were team leaders now, I didn’t feel like I was in a position to march up to our leader and demand things of him. As much as I wanted to.
We quickly made our way down the wooden staircase and through the front door. I was ready to get away from the stress of the meeting so that I could speak with Jace. I felt like we both needed the opportunity to discuss the details openly and honestly.
When we exited the admin building, Jace turned right instead of left, surprising me. I’d thought we would be returning to the tents and the rest of the team.
“What are you doing?” I asked, following him.
“Getting far enough away from any other ears,” he replied.
I looked back over my shoulder. That was smart thinking. Almost everyone else was walking back to the tents, leaving us alone to talk.
“So,” I started, “what did you think?”
“I think Nathan has lost all faith in us,” Jace replied.
“I agree,” I said. “But I don’t know what we can do about it.”
“At least we have Corona,” Jace said.
He was right. Without Nathan, I was worried that Little John would fall into chaos. But Corona had stepped up and was taking the lead. For now, at least we had her.
We walked along the road back toward the tarmac. It was an overcast, chilly day in Brightbirch, and the weather reflected how I was feeling inside. From the early morning fright of hearing airships and thinking that we were under attack to Nathan’s suggestion of entirely disbanding Little John during our meeting, it had been a whirlwind of a day.
“What about being sworn to secrecy?” I asked. “I don’t feel comfortable not sharing details with the team.”
Jace sighed. “Yeah, but I also don’t want to lose our place in the meetings. And if it gets out that we’re leaking information, they might stop inviting us back.”
I inhaled deeply. I hadn’t considered that. Jace was right, but it still seemed unfair to me that we had to keep information from our friends and team members. What harm could it do? I had to believe that no one from Team Hood was the mole. I had known all of them for long enough to trust their motives and their characters. I knew that Corona and Nathan couldn’t be sure of that, but I was.
Even if I wasn’t able to come to the same conclusion about Henry.
Jace and I walked for a while longer in silence until we finally looped around and began to head back to the tents. Walks with Jace, even when they were ambling, never seemed aimless. It was always just nice to be in his presence.
But after we passed the admin building and the stable again, I noticed that he had stopped before we got to the tents.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m not ready to face the team yet,” he replied. “I don’t know what to tell them.”
I nodded. Jace was right in that we didn’t need to jeopardize our new position in Little John. It was the only way that either of us would be getting any new information for the foreseeable future. But I was deeply conflicted about keeping things from our teammates. Suddenly I didn’t feel ready to go back to the tents so soon either.
“We could take a little hike,” Jace suggested weakly.
I smiled. Or . . .
“Follow me,” I said. I had a better idea.
When the elevator doors opened up onto the second floor, Jace was still visibly nervous.
“She’s going to love you,” I told him reassuringly. How could Juno not love Jace? He was a perfect gentleman, and he had saved our lives. She would instantly see that.
“I don’t know,” he said, staring at his feet as he shuffled down the hospital corridor. “I’ve never had to do this before. What if she thinks I’m not good enough for you?”
“Then she has impossible standards,” I said with a smile. I put one arm around his waist and squeezed.
Juno’s door was open, but I knocked gently anyway to make sure it was okay for us to walk in.
“Elyse?” she said excitedly.
Jace and I walked in.
“I’m sorry, Robin,” she said quickly. “I really will learn to call you by your name. Old habits just die hard.”
I smiled at her and shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.” And I meant it.
Juno smiled back at me and then turned her attention to Jace.
“I remember you from the Helping Hands center,” she said, her smile never wavering. “You helped save my life. I can’t thank you enough.”
Jace smiled politely. He seemed to have relaxed slightly since we had arrived. “Of course, ma’am,” he said.
“Please, call me Juno,” she said.
Seeing Jace and Juno together filled me with a happiness that was hard to explain. On one hand, nothing in our orbit was currently safe or certain. And it sounded like we were about to either embark on a new and very dangerous mission or, perhaps even more dangerously, disband entirely. To top it all off, I still didn’t have Hope back. And no picture of family could ever be complete without my daughter. But, on the other hand, I had never felt so much love and family in one room before. I had never once felt the type of love that I got from Juno from my adoptive parents. And the romantic love that Henry and I had shared paled in comparison to the love I felt for Jace. So even though it was an incomplete picture with an uncertain future, it was still the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced.
Jace followed me as I moved toward Juno’s bed. I pulled two chairs up beside her, and Jace and I sat.
“I want to thank you as well,” Jace said to Juno once we had gotten situated.
I turned to look at him. Thank her for what?
Juno cocked her head and smiled. “Well, you’re welcome. But what did I do to earn your thanks?”
“You brought this amazing woman into the world,” Jace replied.
The love in my heart spilled over. I couldn’t wipe the humongous smile off of my face as Juno reached across her hospital bed and grabbed Jace’s hands into her own.
“Of course,” she replied. “It was my pleasure. And I’m so happy that you two found each other.”
Maybe Nathan was losing faith in all of us. Maybe Little John was going to disband, with no guarantee of reunification. Who knew? But I did know that the love I felt in that room—between Jace and me, and between Juno and me, and now even Jace and Juno—was worth fighting for.
And I wouldn’t be done until I had Hope there too, to complete the picture.
16
I wasn’t excited about getting back to the team, and that was a strange and uncomfortable feeling. Usually I couldn’t wait to be around Team Hood. But after our meeting with the leaders, and Corona’s request for confidentiality, I was feeling unsure about speaking to my friends.
Because Jace had been right—if we weren’t careful, and word got back to the leaders that we were leaking information, we could lose our spots in the meetings. And that wouldn’t help Team Hood, either.
The air was thick with the smell of impending rain, and we hadn’t seen the sun all day. There was an electric feel around us: an incoming thunderstorm. As we approached camp, the clean scent of rain gradually gave way to the intoxicating smell of another hot picnic spread. I would’ve known the smell of still-warm baked goods from a mile away. My stomach grumbled in anticipation.
; Maybe I could quiet my mind with something to eat.
The team was sitting around another roaring fire when we approached. Everyone looked to be enjoying the food and the invigorating air before a storm.
“Finally!” Gabby said as Jace and I walked up and took seats on the logs around the firepit. “We were starting to wonder if you guys got sent on a mission already, without us!”
I chuckled at the thought. In all honesty, I would’ve jumped at the opportunity if Corona had presented it. But it felt like we were far from that.
“Did they explain the airships from this morning?” Nelson asked. She looked tense, as if it had been on her mind since we left.
“Yeah, they were Little John ships. Nothing to worry about there,” Jace replied.
Nelson waited as if she was expecting more information, but Jace looked away. As I watched the exchange, I realized that it was going to be difficult not to share details without explaining why.
“What took you guys so long?” Alf asked.
Jace looked at me, obviously letting me decide how much I wanted to share about our experience after the meeting.
“I introduced Jace to my mother,” I said.
Half a dozen jaws dropped.
“Wait a minute . . . Your mother?” Ant asked. “You mean the woman from the Helping Hands mission?”
I nodded and smiled. The team might’ve suspected as much previously, but they hadn’t had it confirmed yet, and I was thrilled to finally share the news.
Nelson, who knew more than anyone else about the matter, was smiling from ear to ear. “I’m so happy for you, Robin,” she said.
Suddenly the sound of logs crackling on the fire was drowned out by cheers and congratulations from my friends, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Most of us were looking for family members. That was what had drawn some of us to Operation Hood in the first place. Now, after so many years, I had finally found my mother, and I knew that I would be just as happy for my friends when they found the people they had lost, too. It was wonderful feeling like progress was finally being made.
The Child Thief 6: Zero Hour Page 12
