by P. T. Hylton
“Is that what you call attacking cops? Acting out? Come on, Alex, you’re smarter than this.”
Alex had never seen Simmons this angry. He was always calm and composed. Even on missions. Especially on missions. She felt her own anger rise to match his.
“What are they supposed to do? They tried following the rules, and you see what that got them. I’m not saying they’re right, but they’ve just found out they don’t have a voice in their government.”
Simmons shook his head, clearly disgusted. “That would be us out there, if we weren’t prepping for the mission tomorrow. They’ll probably send us to help control the crowds when we get back. I hope your understanding makes you feel better when they’re bashing your head in.”
“Jesus, Simmons, relax. Nobody’s bashing anybody’s head in. Are things out of hand? Of course! They should lock up anybody who attacks a cop. I’m not saying anything different.”
“A second ago you were defending them!”
Alex threw back the covers and got up. She didn’t need this right now. Not with everything else going on. And Simmons lumping her in with those people rioting? That wasn’t fair. What she was doing was far different. It wasn’t just acting out without purpose. There was a method to her role, and it could do real good for everyone.
She found her bra and put it on. “I should go.”
Simmons sighed. “You don’t have to do that. Stay. It’s okay for us to disagree.”
“Sure it is. We don’t even have to get along. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend.”
Simmons lay back down and rolled away from her. “So that’s how it is?”
“I guess.” She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Okay, maybe she did, a little. But more importantly, she had somewhere she was supposed to be.
“After everything, this is still just a booty call to you?” he asked.
“Can we not, right now? It is what it is. I’m having fun, and I thought you were too. Let’s not ruin it by thinking too much. Besides, we have a mission tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
She left without waiting for him to say goodbye.
Sarah was waiting in the R&D lab when Alex arrived. It was past midnight, and most of the lights were off. A single bulb shone over Sarah’s table, and two duffle bags sat in front of her. Alex made her way toward the light.
“Wow, this is the first time I’ve ever been here that Brian hasn’t. Doesn’t he usually sleep in his office?”
Sarah nodded. “Sometimes. I really had to put the pressure on him. I told him he was starting to look like crap, and that you’d said something about the dark circles under his eyes.”
Alex stifled a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Desperate times.” She patted the bags in front of her. “I’ve done my part. Now it’s all you.” She pushed the bags toward Alex. “You sure this is the right move? I mean, they’ll know it was you. And it won’t be hard for them to figure out it was me.”
Alex picked up the bags. They were lighter than she’d expected. “That doesn’t matter. If this works the way we hope it will, it’ll be a big step toward convincing the Council.”
“Or starting a civil war.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Stay safe.” Alex headed toward the door, then called over her shoulder. “Oh, and have Fleming tell his people to chill. Rioting isn’t a good look.”
Alex moved through the hangar quietly, but purposefully. Considering the time of night, she felt pretty safe. There was rarely anyone here at this hour. And even if someone did show up, people were so used to seeing her in the hangar that they probably wouldn’t question her presence. She had a cover story ready, just in case. She followed Sarah’s lead by leaving as many lights off as possible.
Sarah was right. Even if this went perfectly, every person on the GMT would know who had done this the moment the mission started. CB would tell the general, even if every other member of the team would cover for her. It was possible that CB or the general would remove her from the team for this, but she was willing to risk it.
CB had accused her of being rash, of putting her desires ahead of the needs of the team when she’d taken the jet pack outside and when she’d used the rover on the factory door in Buenos Aires, but the truth was she’d been thinking of nothing but the team on both occasions. She was putting the needs of the team far above her own safety. In the case of the jet pack, she’d known the Council was hesitant to approve any new spending, so she’d put her career at risk to give them a thrilling enough demonstration to move the needle. In the case of Buenos Aires, she’d known immediately that they’d need to bust into the factory. Better to get it done quickly before team morale wavered.
Both of those had been risky maneuvers, but both had paid off for the team. She hoped and believed this time would be no different.
She reached the away ship and typed Owl’s security code into the control panel next to the door. Alex had watched Owl enter the code last month and filed it away, not intending to use it, but putting it in her mental just in case file. She had her own passcode, but Owl was incredibly touchy about her ship. Alex wouldn’t have been surprised if she had a safety measure built in that alerted her when anyone else boarded.
The ship door unlocked with a hiss of air, and Alex pulled it open and stepped onto the away ship.
The lights in the interior of the ship were motion activated, and she imagined she could almost hear them click as she entered each new section of the ship. It felt odd to be here alone. Usually, the ship was buzzing with the excitement and tension of the upcoming mission when she boarded. Walking through it now, she felt a bit of that excitement spark inside her, as if the residue of so many missions still hung in the air. But mostly the ship felt like a dead thing, like she was exploring the preserved carcass of some great beast long extinct.
She made her way to the passenger section where she and the rest of the crew sat during flights. She went to the starboard side where she always sat and wedged her fingers under the bench seat. The seat detached with a snap, revealing a large space inside the bench. This area had been designed for storage, Alex knew, but they never used it as such. The GMT was small enough that there was always plenty of room, and it was easier to just stow their gear in the cargo hold and grab it on the way out. To Alex’s knowledge, this would be the first time these benches would be used for their intended purpose.
She stared at the storage area for a long moment. Like it or not, she had to admit she was crossing a line here. This wasn’t just flying a jet pack outside, instead of in the hangar. This was smuggling. Any way she wanted to defend it to herself, this was putting politics ahead of her team.
But, for the citizens of New Haven, it had to be done.
She placed the two black bags into the seat and replaced the bench.
Twenty minutes later, she was back in her quarters, lying in bed and waiting for morning.
14
CB was on his morning run when his earpiece chirped. He sighed and touched the radio on his belt. “Brickman.”
For CB, morning runs were sacred. As the field commander for the most elite team on New Haven, very little of his time was his own. He often felt pulled in a dozen different directions. General Craig needed updated budget projections. R&D wanted his sign-off on new gear. One of his team members had gotten into a fight at Tankards and punched a patron. He had to show up at the gym and lift with the team, so that they didn’t think he was slacking off. And that was the average Tuesday before ten a.m.
But this forty-five-minute run was for him. He guarded this time jealously, and he even went for the run on mission days, when things were three times as hectic. Everyone who worked with him, everyone who had access to this radio channel, knew about the holiness of his morning run, and they damn sure wouldn’t interrupt it unless there was no choice.
So, he was more than a little surprised when the voice of Brian McElroy came through his radio.
“Sorry to bother you, Captain. You need
to come down to R&D right away. We’ve got a situation.”
Ten minutes later, he was changed into his fatigues and on his way to R&D.
Brian met him at the door. “This isn’t good, sir.”
CB brushed past him and into the lab. He didn’t know what he’d find there, but he had his gun on his hip just in case. “Care to elaborate?”
Brian followed close behind. From the quiver in his voice, CB could tell he was about to lose it. The kid was brilliant, but he wasn’t exactly calm under pressure. “I’ve looked everywhere, and I can’t find them. Which is insane, because they were here at eleven last night when I locked up. I know because I was trying a new casing for them, one that would make them more useful in the field.”
CB stopped and turned toward Brian. “Son, slow down and tell me what you’re talking about.”
Brian nodded frantically, then took a deep breath before speaking again. “Okay, sorry, I’m a little freaked out.”
“Something’s missing?”
Brian nodded again, but this time it didn’t look as much like his head was out of control on a spring. “It’s the Daylights, sir. The ones that replicate sunlight. They’re gone.”
CB cursed softly. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish, sir.”
If the general found out about this, he’d blow a gasket. The mission would be canceled, and the place would go into lockdown. This was the piece of tech that had caused this whole Resettlement resurgence, after all.
CB pointed up at the cameras mounted all over the room. “You checked the tape?”
Brian shook his head. Clearly, he hadn’t even considered that. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Good. While you do that, I’m going to see what I can dig up.”
CB glanced at his watch. He had three hours until he needed to report to the away ship. He’d tell the general about the Daylights before that if he had to, but he wanted to try recovering the lights on the down low first. He had a pretty good idea where to start looking.
CB had grown up in Sparrow's Ridge. His father had died when CB was four, and his mother had worked a low-level job in the nuclear sector. Like everyone in New Haven, their most basic needs were guaranteed, so CB never went hungry or naked, but he spent most of his younger years wearing thin, City-Council-issued handout clothes, which the other kids took every opportunity to taunt him for.
His mother had passed five years ago, and he hadn’t spent any real time in the Ridge since, but he still knew his way around. Enough old-timers remembered him that he was able to get someone to point him to Fleming’s makeshift headquarters—the Council-in-exile, they were calling it, apparently.
CB barely recognized the place. Back in his day, it had been a general community center, mostly used for poor kids’ birthday parties and old people’s card clubs. Now, it was transformed. Dozens of desks filled the room, and the walls were lined with even more workers jammed together at tables. There must have been one hundred people crowded into the room. And at the head of it all, sitting at a large desk at the front of the room, was Fleming.
CB marched right up to the desk, ignoring the three young men who tried to stop him with polite offers of help. He planted both hands on the desk and leaned forward.
Fleming looked up, clearly surprised to see this fireplug of a man in his face, but he quickly recovered and gave CB his signature smile. “Captain. Pleasure seeing you here. Come to join the movement?”
“Cut the shit, Fleming. I want to know what you did with them.”
Fleming’s gaze darted behind CB, and CB glanced over his shoulder to see a small group of men was gathering behind him. Probably what passed for the tough guys in this pathetic assortment of would-be rebels.
Fleming looked back at CB. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Captain.”
CB grimaced. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. If Fleming wanted to play coy, fine, but CB sure wasn’t going to. “The Daylights, Councilman. I know you have them.”
Fleming’s smiled didn’t waver, but CB was almost certain he saw a spark of recognition in the councilman’s eyes. “We don’t have your lights. If you’ve misplaced them, that’s not my concern.”
“I didn’t misplace them, asshole. You took them.”
CB felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the biggest of the men looming over him.
“Okay, time to leave, buddy.”
The guy had eight inches on CB, and he held himself like a man used to getting his way. CB was fairly certain he could drop this idiot in one punch, if it came to that.
He shrugged the man’s hand off his shoulder and glared at him. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your fingers.”
“It’s okay, Phil,” Fleming said. “Captain, I’m sorry your equipment was stolen, but you are seriously misplacing your suspicion. And, frankly, it’s a little insulting that you’d leap to this conclusion. These people you see before you are all volunteers, graciously giving their time to help us raise support. We’re focused on putting pressure on the City Council to do their duty and listen to the will of the people, and I promise you, that is more than job enough for all of us. We don’t have time to break into Ground Mission Team headquarters to steal equipment.”
CB smiled. “That so? I guess your people don’t have anything to do with the protests that have been going on? With the riots?”
“I’ll admit, things have gotten a little out of hand, but these are extraordinary times.”
“That they are. I never thought I’d see the day when a member of the City Council would steal equipment from the GMT.”
Fleming shook his head as if disappointed. “Look around, Captain. What use would the Daylights be to us? I said it before, and I’m only going to say it one more time. We don’t have your lights. Now I think it’s time for you to go. Unless you’d like to sign our petition first?”
Others had joined the men behind CB. There must have been twenty of them. And every other eye in the room was watching.
CB knew many of these people were Sparrow’s Ridge lifers, hardscrabble folk who were no strangers to a barroom brawl. Still, he was pretty sure he could drop four or five of these guys before they took him down. And he was armed.
But the clock was ticking. He didn’t have time to fool around. He turned back to Fleming. “I’m sure you know that, at this point, the Council is just looking for an excuse to officially remove you. If I find out you had anything to do with those lights going missing, they’ll have it.”
Fleming flashed his most brilliant politician’s smile. “If you’re threatening to remove me from power, best of luck, Captain Brickman. You’re going to need it.”
Brian sat in front of the monitor, fast-forwarding through last night’s footage. He couldn’t believe someone had stolen the Daylights, but there was no other explanation for their disappearance. As upset as he was about the theft, he was even more worried about what he was going to find on the security tape.
The thing he hadn’t mentioned to Captain Brickman was that the list of possible suspects was quite small. Only ten people worked in R&D, and only five of them had keys. There were a few others who had access—janitorial staff, a few select Engineering people, the general himself—but the list wasn’t long. Whoever had done this, it would be a gut punch.
He slowed the recording as a shape appeared. The figure was familiar, and Brian’s heart sank. Sarah. He’d suspected as much. She’d been talking about Resettlement for months, and lately she’d been spending all her free time with Fleming and his supporters. Brian knew she’d been indoctrinated to Fleming’s radical views, but he didn’t think she’d go this far.
He scrolled further through the tape and watched as she gathered the Daylights and stowed them in black duffle bags.
Brian grabbed his radio off the desk. Time to tell Captain Brickman he’d found the culprit.
Before he could turn on the radio, another figure joined Sarah on the screen, and Brian let out a gasp.
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“Oh, Alex, how could you?”
15
Alex was the last one to the locker room that morning. Somehow, in spite of everything that was going on, with the mission, the Daylights, the rising tension between the Council and the Resettlement supporters, she’d fallen asleep almost the moment her head hit the pillow the previous night, and she’d slept hard. She’d woken disoriented and groggy, and now, she was ten minutes late to mission prep.
Grabbing her stuff out of her stocked locker, she threw on her silver mail suit and her fatigues. She gave herself one final check to make sure she had everything—pistols, sword, tactical knives—and then she headed out.
Alex knew something was wrong as soon as she approached the away ship. There were people around the ship, the same way there always were before a mission, but they weren’t bustling around. They stood, working slowly, methodically, and every one of them looked at her as she approached.
Brian exited the ship and startled when he saw her.
“Hey, man,” she said.
“Hi, Alex.” His voice was distant and cold, and his eyes were heavy with heartbreak.
She was caught, and she knew it.
But what were her options? Turn tail and run? How far would she get? No, she had to face the music.
She stepped into the ship, brushed past a tech from R&D, and headed for the passenger section. When she got there, the other GMT members were standing around the area. The bench seats were removed. Every eye turned toward her as she entered.
Silence hung thick in the air.
Emotion played openly on the faces of her teammates. Simmons wore a disappointed look. Drew looked shocked. Firefly looked angry.
