by Tarah Benner
“Lieutenant Greaves was crystal clear. He asked not to be disturbed.”
“You need to let us in, Sergeant,” comes an annoying voice.
I wheel around in a cloud of annoyance and come face to face with Van de Graaf.
“I told you to stay put,” I growl.
“Oh, sorry,” he says, making a face. “I forgot I don’t take orders from you.” He turns to Schaffer with a winning smile. “As I said . . . the first lieutenant.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Van de Graaf. But I have direct orders —”
“He’s gonna want to hear what I have to say,” I snap. “Tell him it has to do with the missile that just blew a hole in the space station.”
Sergeant Schaffer blinks twice very fast. It’s as if he’s a bot that can’t deviate from orders. Finally, though, he relents. “Wait here.”
He opens the door and goes inside, leaving me and Van de Graaf standing there waiting. I can hear the rumble of voices behind the door — Schaffer’s stupid idiot voice. A moment later the door flies open and he’s beckoning me inside.
I get a shiver of nerves at the prospect of facing Greaves once again. He isn’t going to be happy that I disobeyed orders. He probably wishes that I’d stayed on Earth.
But I walk into the war room with my head held high, and Van de Graaf crowds in behind me. What did I do to deserve this trillion-dollar pain in the ass? Maybe I was a trust-fund brat in some other life.
Greaves is pacing the length of the room, looking like someone in over his head. My gaze automatically darts to the wall, where we found Callaghan bleeding to death.
“Wyatt,” says Greaves. He stops pacing to look me up and down. He clearly isn’t pleased. “Mr. Van de Graaf.”
Greaves looks slightly startled by Van de Graaf’s presence, but he quickly schools his expression. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again, Wyatt. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Sir, just listen —”
“No, you listen. Abandoning your post — disobeying direct orders — stealing an emergency medevac shuttle . . . Now I hear you blew up Maverick headquarters.”
“Yes, but I authorized that,” says Van de Graaf uncomfortably.
“You authorized him to destroy your own building, drug two on-duty officers, and escape from police custody?”
Van de Graaf’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Well, those last two —”
“Sir, this is important,” I break in, trying to keep my voice calm. Greaves can yell at me all he likes. I just need him to listen first.
“You’re suspended,” Greaves snaps. “Indefinitely. I’d discharge you, but I don’t have time for the paperwork. You’ll be lucky if I don’t end up extraditing you to Earth, you son-of-a —”
“Will you just listen?” I yell, suddenly fed up.
Greaves falls silent, looking as though I just crossed a line. But we’re beyond the formalities of rank and respect. This is life or death for us all.
“I have information about that missile. It was the US Air Force, authorized by Colonel Sipps.”
It takes a moment for my words to sink in, and I watch Greaves’s face drain of all color. “The air force?” he repeats, as though he’s never heard of it.
“I thought she would wait until I talked to Mordecai . . . It was supposed to be the next course of action.”
“You’re in contact with Mordecai Blum?”
I shake my head. “No. But he knows me. I told the colonel I could get him to surrender.”
“Mordecai will never surrender,” scoffs Van de Graaf. I want to put his head through the wall.
“I know,” I say, trying not to yell. “But the air force is prepared to take drastic action. They want Mordecai dead or alive.” I lower my voice and glance around even though we’re the only ones in the room. “If Mordecai Blum doesn’t surrender, the air force is going to launch a hypersonic missile capable of detonating an EMP.”
Greaves blinks six or seven times, and for a second I wonder if he’s gone catatonic. He is not cut out to lead during a crisis, but he’s the brass we’re stuck with.
Van de Graaf stares. “An EMP?”
I nod. Van de Graaf isn’t stupid. He knows what that would mean.
“Yes,” I say, still looking at Greaves. “She sent me with a transmitter so the Space Force could coordinate. It’s still on board the shuttle, sir. I’m supposed to deliver it to you personally.”
I pause for a breath, bracing myself for what I have to tell him next. As much as I don’t want Greaves involved, I need to get him on board with the plan.
“There’s only one way to keep the air force from detonating an EMP and killing everyone on this station.”
Greaves just continues to stare. Van de Graaf stays silent.
“You and I both know it’s not getting Mordecai to surrender.”
I don’t finish with “I have to kill him,” but Greaves seems to catch my meaning. He lets out a long breath, sinking into a chair.
“We need to get ahold of that transmitter,” says Van de Graaf. “I’ll talk to this Colonel Sipps. She can’t detonate an EMP over my space station.”
“She isn’t going to listen,” I say, trying and failing to keep my voice even. “No matter who your daddy is.”
I realize the moment the words leave my mouth that I’ve gone a step too far. Van de Graaf doesn’t have a father. Strom Van de Graaf is dead.
“I need you to buy us some time,” I say to Greaves before Van de Graaf loses his mind. “Send in someone to get the transmitter. You need to talk to Sipps.”
I’m still watching Greaves — waiting for a response — when there’s a loud knock at the door. One of the guards sticks his head in, looking gray in the face.
“What is it?” Greaves snaps, clearly perturbed. I can tell he doesn’t know what to do.
“Sir, you need to turn on the news. We’re getting a broadcast from Earth that you need to see.”
Greaves is still in a half-dazed stupor, but he pivots to face the enormous screen. He touches his Optix, and the screen comes to life, filling with a broadcast from Earth.
The anchor is standing in front of the White House. I read the words along the bottom of the screen, but my brain can’t seem to make sense of them.
Air Force One was rerouted this evening during its flight to Toronto. The president was on his way to meet with the Canadian prime minister when Air Force One took an emergency detour. According to White House officials, air traffic control briefly lost contact with the plane shortly after it was rerouted.
Then the newscaster’s face changes. He seems to be listening to the voice in his ear, and his carefully crafted expression falters. He looks up and nods at the camera.
This story is still developing. We’ll have more after the break.
Then the program goes to an ad, and silence falls over the room. My heart is thumping hard in my chest. Something is very, very wrong.
Within a minute, the newscast is back, but it’s not the anchor reporting from the White House. They’ve switched back to the newsroom and a somber man who looks as though the worst has happened.
And we’re back. According to the White House, air traffic controllers lost contact with Air Force One shortly after it was rerouted to Pennsylvania. Deputy Administrator of the FAA Lance Albertson says the plane went down just north of the Maryland border.
No word yet as to the condition of the president or anyone else on board, including the first lady, secretary of state, and the homeland security secretary. The White House chief of staff said the plane was on its way to Raven Rock, which is the location of a secure government bunker. There are still questions swirling as to why Air Force One was rerouted, and we will try to answer them as the investigation unfolds. Stay tuned.
The anchor welcomes a source to rehash the few facts they have, and a sudden chill settles over the room. Even the reporter seems to be struggling to keep the broadcast going. My entire body is numb.
This can’t be happe
ning. It can’t be real. The president was on his way to one of the most protected bunkers on Earth. Now he might be dead.
I can’t find the words. There are no words. It’s the greatest upheaval the free world has seen in nearly seventy-five years, and it has Mordecai’s name written all over it.
16
Maggie
After the emergency news alert finishes, Tripp’s desktop goes dark. I continue to stare at the space where the broadcast ended, and a void opens up in my chest.
It feels as though there is nothing left inside me — no grief, no fear, no debilitating panic. I just feel empty — numb. I cannot take any more.
“What just happened?” asks Ping from the couch.
“This has to be Mordecai,” Jade growls. “This is exactly what he wants.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Chaos. Panic. An unraveling of democracy.” Jade’s face is as hard as stone. She’s well past the point of confusion. She seems completely certain.
“He couldn’t have.”
“Why not? Mordecai’s bots are everywhere. It wouldn’t be hard for one to get access to the frequency used by air traffic control or tamper with the plane.”
“Come on,” says Ping. “Mordecai didn’t try to assassinate the president.”
“You’re naïve if you think he’s above that.”
I swallow. I don’t want to listen to Jade’s dark theories — mostly because I don’t want to believe them. If Mordecai can get to the president, there’s no limit to what he can do.
Just then, I hear a commotion out in the hallway. Porter’s shrill voice permeates the walls, and I see shadows moving on the other side of the glass. Porter squeals in a moved-to-tears sort of way, and my heart flies into my throat.
A second later, the door bangs open and Tripp marches in. Jonah follows close behind with long purposeful strides. They both look equally stunned and disturbed, though their faces wear their emotions differently. Tripp looks flustered. Jonah is scowling, and I feel a stirring in my chest.
I can’t believe he’s here. After watching him blaze into battle, to see him standing in front of me is surreal. He’s sweaty and exhausted, and his face is scruffy. I’ve never seen Jonah with any amount of stubble, but I can deal with the unshaven version as long as he’s alive.
The instant our eyes meet, something inside him seems to soften.
Relief and elation surge through my chest, and I want to throw myself into his arms. I want to wrap my whole body around his middle, just to prove that he’s alive.
Then I remember Jade, Tripp, and Ping, and I realize I must look ridiculous. I’m staring at Jonah like he’s my long-lost love, and yet I can’t tear my eyes away.
Someone mumbles something I can’t make out. Their words disappear on the air.
I take a step closer to Jonah, and his eyes grow dark.
If we were alone, I don’t think I’d be able to resist. I would have thrown myself into his arms already.
Instead, I take another cautious step forward and wrap my arms around his neck. His body tenses at my awkward hug, but he allows it. His body feels warm and reassuringly solid, and I breathe in his familiar scent.
For a moment, I panic. Everyone is staring, and he hasn’t moved an inch. But then his body seems to surrender, and he wraps his arms around me.
“Where’s my hug?” Tripp asks irritably.
I pull away from Jonah and reach for Tripp, but our embrace is cool and brief. Jonah is looking at me in a way he never has before, and there’s a palpable tension in the room.
“Yes, I know you were very worried about me. Porter was beside himself.” Tripp isn’t looking at me, and his voice sounds strained. He crosses over to his desk, looking lost in his own oversized office.
“Mordecai has to be responsible for this,” says Jonah, as though picking up the thread of a previous conversation. “His bots must have brought down that plane.”
“How?” I ask, feeling a fresh surge of dread. I’d almost forgotten we were in a crisis, and it makes me uneasy that Jonah and Jade share the same crazy theory.
“I don’t know,” he says darkly. “That’s what’s got the Space Force worried.”
“Those bots may be on Earth, but Mordecai has to be commanding them,” says Jade.
Jonah gives an absent nod, but then he seems to notice her. Jade’s still wearing the bots’ signature outfit, but her expression is angry and feral. Jonah stiffens at the sight of her, and I see his guard go up.
“Who are you?” he asks.
“Jade Armaz.”
“Wait,” says Jonah. “The Jade Armaz?”
He throws Tripp a look of naked disgust, and I see his anger rolling in. “The Jade Armaz who killed my team and hundreds of innocent civilians?”
“That wasn’t her,” I say quickly.
But Jonah is furious. “Who the hell was it, then?”
“Mordecai,” I say.
“Oh, right. That’s convenient.” Jonah gives us all a look that suggests we’ve lost our minds.
“It’s true,” says Jade, glaring at Jonah.
“It’s all right,” I say. “She isn’t who you think. Mordecai took over the Bureau for Chaos. He’s the one responsible.”
Jonah throws back his head, reeling with furious disbelief. “Mordecai isn’t the master of the universe! You can’t blame him for everything.”
I open my mouth and glance at Tripp, but it’s Jade who speaks next.
“Mordecai Blum ruined my life. He corrupted the Bureau and forced me into hiding. I’ve been living underground because of him.”
There’s a long beat of uncomfortable silence. I can tell Jonah doesn’t believe her, but he’s listening to what she has to say.
“This wasn’t what I wanted the Bureau to become. I never wanted to kill anyone.”
“Whatever,” says Jonah. “I’m more concerned with the bots that tried to assassinate the president.”
Tripp nods. “We need to take Mordecai out of the equation. He’s the one controlling the bots.”
“How?” I stammer. “No one’s seen him. He’s locked himself away somewhere, and the place will be surrounded by bots.”
“I don’t know,” says Jonah. “But we’re running out of time.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, feeling panicky and annoyed. Tripp and Jonah might be working together, but I am seriously out of the loop.
“Greaves said he’d talk to Sipps and try to buy us some time . . .”
“Time for what?”
“Time to kill Mordecai before Sipps kills us,” says Tripp.
“What?” yelps Ping.
I second that sentiment.
“The air force is responsible for the missile that took out the food-science labs,” Jonah explains. “It’s phase one of Colonel Sipps’s plan to capture Mordecai dead or alive.”
“She wants him to surrender,” says Tripp. “Which is completely insane . . .”
“I know,” says Jonah, who seems reluctant to agree. “Her next move is to detonate an EMP over Elderon that would kill everyone on board.”
My heart seems to drop to my knees. An electromagnetic pulse is something I’ve read about but never really considered. On Earth, it would be a disaster. In space, it’s a death sentence.
“The only way to save the space station is to lure Mordecai out of hiding.”
We all fall silent, and the hopelessness of our situation begins to sink in. We’re trapped on a space station earmarked for destruction, and Mordecai is our key to survival.
“I have a better idea,” says Jade out of nowhere.
We all turn to look at her. Even Jonah seems to be listening intently.
“Mordecai Blum is a cold-hearted coward. He’s never going to come out of hiding.”
“Thanks, but we got that,” says Tripp in a contemptuous voice.
Jade ignores him. “The only way to kill Mordecai Blum is to get him to invite us in . . . And I know just how to make him do i
t.”
17
Maggie
“You sure about this?”
Jade doesn’t answer. Ping is reclined on Tripp’s couch, staring at Jade from across the room.
She’s still dressed like a bot, though it’s hard to believe she ever passed for a humanoid. She’s much more muscular than any bot, and the short dress really makes it apparent. She doesn’t have the cool indifference of a humanoid, either. Jade is a warrior with fire in her bones.
Her expression barely changes in response to Ping’s question, and I see where she gets her strength. It isn’t some energetic force that she has to drag up from her gut. Her entire body is imbued with toughness.
“I’ve lost eight years of my life because of what he’s done,” says Jade. “It will be a pleasure to kill him.”
I glance at Ping, who looks uneasy. Jade might be a little crazy.
Just then, Jared reappears in the doorway. He’s panting and covered in blood, and he looks as though he just made it back with his life.
“Where have you been?” I ask.
“Helping the Space Force. The docking zone was a blood bath.” He pauses for a minute to catch his breath. “Jonah wanted me to tell you that the bots are down. You’d better go now.”
I nod, and Jade strides toward the door without another word. Tripp and Jonah left to clear a path to the newsroom, which means exterminating every bot along the way.
“You may want some fresh stunners,” says Jared, digging into a dirty pillowcase.
I nod and take the stunners, passing two to Jade. Even if Jonah and Tripp manage to take out every bot in Sector L, there are still the bots in the newsroom.
“You’ve got three charges on each one,” he says. “Make them count.”
“Thanks,” I say, steeling myself for the worst.
Jade remains stony and silent. She blazes through the door to Tripp’s office, ignoring Porter and Chaz.
“Good luck,” says Porter, scowling after Jade.
I grin. I don’t think Porter and I will ever be friends, but at the moment we’re allies. Jade and I are headed into a den of bots, and Mordecai tried to assassinate the president. I’ll take what I can get.
