Altered

by Gennifer Albin

  Inside the entrance it’s dark, but Dante flips on a handlight and starts into the darkness. The handlight provides enough illumination for us to see a few feet in front of us but not much more than that. Once we’ve walked for a few minutes—faithfully following Dante, despite the fact that we have no idea where we’re headed—he stops and shines the light on the wall. He flips open a panel, flicking some switches. A series of solar lights flares to life, dimly lighting the rest of the tunnel. With the lights on, some of my unease dissolves.

  “Where are we?” Erik asks. If we’re far enough from the entrance to safely turn on the lights then it must be safe to ask questions.

  “You wanted to know what a loophole is,” Dante says. “I’m taking you to one. There’s a crawler up ahead, we’ll take it to the ship.”

  Ahead of us the tunnel seems to stretch on for miles. I’m simultaneously glad that I don’t have to walk the whole way and nervous to be back in a crawler. Dante hoists himself into the crawler and turns it on. Erik boosts me into the front seat and then jumps into the back. He leans over me and pulls a harness strap up over my shoulder.

  “Buckle up,” he whispers.

  I nod, not bothering to tell him the harness is the only thing convincing me to ride in the crawler.

  “You don’t like these things, do you?” Dante asks.

  “I do not,” I admit.

  He grins at me, but I notice his own harness is buckled. “You aren’t a fan of many vehicles,” he says. “You didn’t like the motocycles either, and something tells me you’re going to like this even less than last time.”

  “I am?” I whimper, tightening the straps that hold me in. Erik’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder but it does little to abate my fear. Dante is right. I don’t like being in the open air or the wild momentum of vehicles like this. A motocarriage is a smooth ride and, perhaps more important, it has a roof. But motocycles and crawlers feel out of control. There is nothing to grip, so I focus on Erik’s hand when the crawler lurches forward.

  The name crawler made sense from the moment I saw the vehicles. They look like metal spiders, after all, and I saw the way they rumbled over the rocky terrain when we went Sunrunning, but now I really understand where they got their name.

  The tunnel is rounded, but there’s no road, only broken tracks, and as we progress down the shaft we zip up the side of the concave walls instead of navigating the old tracks. Dante drives the crawler farther and farther up the wall, accelerating until my hair is whipping against my face. It’s almost painful, but given that we’re now riding parallel to the tracks below us, I can’t convince my arm to reach up and pull it back. My hands are frozen to the harness, clutching it, but Erik’s hand stays on my shoulder. I focus on it, using its warmth as an anchor.

  We rumble back down to the floor, riding over the broken tracks, zooming through the tunnel. We’re moving too fast and my voice won’t carry over the rushing wind, but when Dante finally starts to slow, approaching a cluster of lights, I ask, “What was that?”

  “They used this tunnel to shanghai men into slavery on boats during the last century. Now we run refugees through it. One second you’re drinking a whiskey, the next second you have an exciting new life at sea.”

  My legs shake as I pull myself out of my bucket seat. I cling to the frame of the crawler and take Dante’s hands when he offers to help me down. I tentatively step over the side, but I can’t bring myself to let go of the bar. Dante reaches up and grips my waist, bringing me to the ground. I wobble a bit, but Erik steadies me when Dante lets go.

  “You didn’t like that ride,” Dante says.

  “No, I don’t exactly have a fondness for death traps,” I admit.

  “That’s funny given how often you throw yourself into dangerous situations,” Erik says. We follow Dante to stairs that take us to a bustling dock. A large glass dome rises over us and through it I can see the Interface. When I look out into the distance, the ocean stretches before me, infinite and black.

  Workers run back and forth, shouting over steam that’s blowing in from a round hatch in the side of the dome. Through the hatch, the dock extends. I spy something tethered to the end of it. I make out a door and a couple of windows set into a blue metal wall. Men pass us in a hurry, but even in their haste they stop and raise a fist to their left shoulder, bowing their heads to Dante. He raises his fist in response but doesn’t nod.

  A man in a gray jumpsuit rushes past us and skids to a stop. It’s Jax.

  “Dante,” Jax says, his face splitting into a grin. He doesn’t welcome him with the same formal greeting as the others; instead the two men grip each other’s arms.

  “Is she around?” Dante asks him. “I should probably get this over with.” His eyes flick to us. Nothing like making someone feel welcome.

  “Yeah, Falon hates surprises,” Jax says. He pushes his goggles up onto his forehead a bit higher, grime smearing across his skin as he does it. “Last time I saw her she was checking some passenger manifests.”

  “Why is she interested in passenger manifests?” Dante asks, frowning at this bit of information.

  “Ask her yourself,” a voice snaps behind us. I turn and find myself face-to-face with a girl. I take a step back as her eyes narrow to focus on my face.

  “You,” I say, recognizing her almost immediately. It’s the girl from the night of the crashed aeroship—the one who encouraged Jost and me to make a run for the Icebox.

  “I looked for you in the Icebox like I said I would,” she says. “I thought you had disappeared.” There’s an edge of recrimination in her voice.

  “Dante found us first, but you’ve found me now,” I say.

  “Dante found you, huh?” She looks to him, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow. “You might have mentioned that.”

  “Don’t start, Falon,” Dante says, his voice low. “You know our channels are being watched.”

  “And what’s his excuse?” she says, pointing to Jax.

  “I didn’t need any more info getting out about Adelice. Jax was following orders,” Dante explains.

  Falon’s nostrils flair but she turns her attention to me. “Adelice, huh? So you’re the one that’s got half of the Guild in an uproar.”

  “Only half? I must be slipping,” I say, giving her a small smile.

  She doesn’t return it. “What’s she doing here?”

  “I think we should talk in private,” Dante says, taking her by the elbow.

  “Don’t start patronizing me, Dante,” she says.

  “Don’t force me to.”

  “You’re so Arras sometimes. It disgusts me.” She practically spits the insult at him.

  I step toward Erik until I feel his hand on my back. Things are getting ugly pretty fast.

  “Falon, a word.” Dante reiterates his request. After a pause he adds a hesitant, “Please.”

  They walk a few paces off. It’s noisy enough here with the steam and activity that we can’t hear them.

  “What was that about?” I ask Jax, who shifts from foot to foot nervously.

  “Dante didn’t message us that he was bringing you. He hasn’t been to the dock in weeks,” Jax explains.

  “Because of me,” I say with a sigh.

  “How did you know Falon?” Erik asks beside me.

  “Jost and I ran into her the night we arrived on Earth. She came to see about the ship I took down.” I relate Falon’s warning from that night to Erik.

  “You didn’t think to mention this to me?”

  “I guess I sort of forgot with everything happening, and you and Jost were fighting.” Even as I make the excuses I know that’s what they are, despite the truth streaking through them.

  “Security is tight between things with Kincaid and the Guild. It’s not your fault…” Jax trails off, wiping his palms on his pants.

  “I thought you went with the mission,” I say to Jax, recalling what Dante said about Jax not being around.

  “Nope, but I
’ve been here most of the time,” he says. Dante lied to me about Jax to cover up where he was really going. It’s a good enough reason to be dishonest, but it doesn’t sit well with me.

  Falon and Dante are walking toward us, and neither looks happy. Dante tries to slip a hand into Falon’s but she avoids him. He settles for a quick squeeze of her shoulder, but the grim expression stays on his face.

  “That explains that,” Erik mutters to me.

  “Lover scorned,” I say.

  “And then he shows up with a pretty girl after weeks of no contact,” Erik says.

  “I’m his daughter,” I remind Erik.

  “Do you think she knows that?”

  Good point.

  The whispers die on our lips as they come closer to us.

  “I apologize for my rudeness,” Falon says. She offers her hand to Erik and they exchange formal introductions. “Dante has caught me up on everything.”

  “Everything?” I ask, looking at Dante. Has he told her he is my father?

  “Everything,” Dante says, pressing his lips together.

  “Okay, then,” Erik says, breaking the tension. “Can you show us the loophole?”

  “We’re making a run in ten minutes. You have good timing, Dante,” Falon says. Her eyes look black in the dim light.

  “Not really,” he says. “I caught wind of some intel coming from within Kincaid’s web.”

  “Good to know you’re still paying attention,” Falon says. She strides off. With her leather pants and simple black braid she’s intimidating, but we follow her as she exits through the dome’s hole onto the dock.

  “Give her a few minutes,” Dante says. “She’ll warm up. She doesn’t like to admit when she’s worried.”

  “And she’s been worried about you?” I guess.

  “I’ve been preoccupied and with Kincaid hovering over you it’s been even harder to slip out.”

  “So Kincaid doesn’t know about this operation?” Erik asks.

  Dante takes a deep breath and then slowly shakes his head. “A lot of these people run refugees for him. It provides a cover and a living, but Kincaid doesn’t know about this place or everything our operation does.”

  I look around at the workers. It’s a strange mix of people—many our own age, but plenty of older adults. They have belts with tools and goggles over their eyes or hanging at their necks for easy access. As we pass through the burst of steam that hangs over the dock, I see what’s at the end of it. The doors and windows I spotted are part of a metal box that hangs suspended from a balloon drifting in the air. Great steel ribs circle the envelope, locking in its shape. The aeroship is tethered to the dock by thick ropes. It’s the same type as the one I crashed on our first night here—the one I assumed was Guild.

  I whirl on Dante. “Where are we? Who are these people?

  Dante spreads his hands wide, gesturing to the bustle of activity around us. “Welcome to the resistance. Adelice, you’re in the heart of the Kairos Agenda.”

  THIRTY

  DANTE LEADS US ON A SHORT TOUR of the facilities, past instrument panels and groups poring over blueprints.

  “What are they working on?” I ask.

  “The grid,” Jax says, pointing to the panels. “We’re getting close to self-sufficiency.”

  “You’re building a power grid?”

  “The only way the Icebox—or any future city on Earth—can exist is with a power source,” Dante says.

  “But Kincaid—”

  “Is shortsighted,” Dante interrupts me. “He can only think of destroying Arras. He’s never considered what it will take to rebuild Earth after that. If we’re going to repopulate civilization, we’ll need access to power, and the last thing I want is to rely on Kincaid when that day comes.”

  “We’re experimenting with an exclusively solar-based system,” Jax tells us. “We don’t have access to coal at this point. That’s still under Kincaid’s control, but I’ve built a photovoltaic array that is entirely dependent on solar energy. It will be easier when we have a power station with permanent arrays, but we’ll have to wait until the Interface comes before we can fully utilize my system.”

  Jax and Dante answer more questions about their plans, but I stay silent. Not only is the Agenda alive, it’s growing. Dante and the other revolutionaries aren’t planning for war, they’re preparing for what comes after. As annoyed as I am that Dante hid this from me, I admire his foresight. It’s not something I’m naturally gifted with.

  They take us to the aeroship and we step inside it to find a spacious viewing area that overlooks the ocean below us. Outside, a corridor exits onto an open-air deck, with ladders onto the rigid body of the ship. I can’t bring myself to ask the question waiting on my lips as I look around.

  “They’re pulling the tethers,” Falon says, coming up to us. “I checked with the pilot and we have a confirmed rivet set up along the gathering route.”

  “How many are coming through?” Dante asks.

  “Only one with credentials, but he’s ensured passage for a few others,” Falon says.

  “And what are we going to do with them?” Dante asks. “Kincaid is watching the Icebox too closely right now. It will be hard to get them safely established inside.”

  “You’ll figure something out,” Falon says, her words more threatening than supportive. She won’t look at Dante, clearly still angry with him over the last few weeks.

  “I don’t have the sway,” Dante says, grabbing her arm.

  “Since when?” Falon demands.

  “Since Kincaid got ahold of her,” Dante tells Falon. Their eyes swivel to me.

  I love being in the middle of fights.

  “Well, we can’t leave them now. They’re safely in the slub and they’ve been promised passage.”

  “They’ll have to stay with the Agenda then, until we can distract Kincaid,” Dante says.

  “Kincaid is already distracted,” Falon reminds him.

  “But he won’t be for long, and your trick won’t elude him. He’ll be on the lookout for activity.”

  “Anyone care to fill us in on what you’re talking about?” Erik asks. I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s having trouble following the conversation.

  “Kincaid is on a fool’s errand,” Dante says in a grim voice.

  “A fool’s errand?” I repeat, my heart dropping into my stomach.

  “The intel on the Whorl was a distraction to get him away from the Icebox,” Falon says. “We needed to be sure that he was busy.”

  “Why?” I demand, feeling sick: not only had I pinned my hope on them coming back with the Whorl, but, more important, Jost had as well.

  “We have good reason to believe the Whorl is under Guild protection, and we couldn’t look for it with Kincaid nosing around,” Dante tells us.

  “Does that mean you know where it is?” I settle into a chair, waiting for answers.

  “Not yet, but we’re closing in on it—” Dante says.

  “The most important thing”—Falon interrupts him—“is that we get to it first. We can’t risk the Whorl falling into Kincaid’s hands.”

  “Why not? Kincaid wants to use it to sever the worlds,” I say. Getting to the Whorl was my best option for escaping the Guild once and for all. Even if Kincaid couldn’t be trusted, he could be used as a resource.

  Falon’s head swings to the left and right as she looks to see who’s around, and then she shakes her head. “Kincaid isn’t Agenda.”

  I suck in a breath. “Then who is he?”

  “That should be obvious,” Falon says.

  “Humor me.”

  “He’s the bad guy.”

  “Then we can’t go back to the estate,” Erik says.

  “That’s exactly what you have to do,” Dante says in a rush. “What do you think will happen if you disappear from the estate?”

  “You expect us to wait around and pretend we’re on Kincaid’s side?” I ask.

  “If you place any value on the A
genda—” Falon begins.

  “I don’t even know what the Agenda is planning!” I explode. “Where are we going now? Why should I trust any of you? You never came for us, and Dante’s been keeping secrets from us the whole time.” The questions and accusations flood from me, unleashed in a tidal wave of recrimination.

  “I couldn’t tell you about this,” Dante says in a low voice, trying to draw me down from my rage. “It wasn’t safe.”

  I wiggle in my seat, folding my arms over my chest. “And now was the right time?”

  “No,” Dante admits, “but you were going to get yourself in trouble. You’ve both made that clear.”

  “Maybe a little trouble is needed around here,” Erik says. I nod in agreement.

  “We have enough trouble without a bunch of kids adding to it,” Falon says.

  “Don’t get self-righteous with me,” I say, leaning forward and jabbing a finger in her direction. “I don’t care if Dante is my father, you and I are the same age.”

  “You been in a lot of gunfights? Have you watched your best friend die in your arms?” Falon asks.

  “I’ve watched more than one friend die,” I seethe. “I’ve seen people I love made into monsters and I’ve escaped Cormac Patton. Let me know when you manage to rip yourself out of the Coventry.”

  “So the rumors are true. You aren’t only a Spinster,” Falon says. For the first time since we met, approval glints in her eyes.

  “No, I’m the goddamned Creweler,” I say with as much venom as I can muster.

  “Well, she certainly has your attitude problem,” Falon says, leaning back in her chair and looking at Dante.

  “Don’t get me involved with this,” he says, putting a hand up.

  “You got yourself involved when you left me in Arras,” I say, jumping from my seat and crossing to the first door I see. Erik is at my heels, but he doesn’t stop me when I exit into the next corridor.

  “Who is he to treat me like that?” I mutter.

  “He’s your dad,” Erik says.

  I turn and hit his shoulder. “He will never be my father.”

  “I know that,” Dante says, closing the door behind him. “I’m not trying to boss you around. I wanted to protect you from this.”