by Julian North
“I’m having trouble syncing the shift change log with you,” he said.
The supervisor was distracted, his defenses weak. I got him with a quick jab of will through a white picket fence. “Freeze, but breathe,” I commanded.
The chipped slaves still ignored us. There were no other humans in the lab. We were safe, for now. There were no security personnel trusted enough to gaze upon the horrors done here. We stood inside the eye of the hurricane.
Dillion scanned the room like a hawk, searching the ground for its prey. His lips twitched. I followed his gaze. He locked in on a pair of elaborate consoles attached to the inner ring wall.
“Watch the company suit,” Dillion told me. “Make sure he doesn’t break the trill. Don’t move from that spot in case we need you.”
He left me in his wake, hungry for whatever prize those consoles offered. It had to be something California wanted badly, to expend these resources. A weapon perhaps. I didn’t like it. But I’d go along with it in exchange for the cure. Lara followed him, stopping beside a juche worker. The human drone paid no attention to her. Not even when she pulled the back of his high collar and placed her California viser over a bulge in the back of the man’s neck. Lara’s lips moved rapidly. She was speaking Korean. Hacking the juche worker, perhaps. Her special talent.
Nythan was spinning in circles, also searching for something.
“Over there,” he said triumphantly. “A direct access terminal. It’s sealed up, old style, just like we thought. Let’s go, Alissa.”
They walked over to a gray, rectangular box extending from the floor; it was a bit smaller than a fabricator. Its only surface feature was a manual black dial with numbers on it. It reminded me of an old-fashioned safe. No electronics; not hackable by conventional means. Alissa placed her right ear next to the door and started turning, her implant letting her hear what we could not. Nythan gazed at his viser intently as she worked. In less than a minute the door swung open. Nythan flicked his fingers on his visered arm even before he got to the interface embedded inside. Alissa hung over his shoulder.
“Just hack through and get the data, Nythan,” she urged. “Don’t get carried away. We don’t have much time.”
I watched Nythan working furiously, completely focused on the screens before him. He was in the near-trance state I’d seen on Tuck’s rooftop. His fingers and eyes moved at an almost violent speed. I watched his lips tense. His face grew taut. Something unexpected was happening.
My spider-sense rang in my head. I felt my hands go numb. Havelock’s face popped into my mind. His last words rang like a bell inside my head. The genocide will spread. Unless we stop it—completely.
I looked over at Dillion—he and Lara had activated the robotic arms with the help of the hacked juche worker. They were absorbed in whatever they were doing. I whispered into the ear of the frozen Rose-Hart supervisor next to me.
“Tell me where to find the cure for the Waste—for the Culling,” I ordered.
He looked at me, his eyes sky blue. They were too innocent for a place such as this. “There is no cure,” he told me.
Time stopped. My heart stopped. My breathing stopped. I was falling down a black chasm that went on forever. I couldn’t feel my body; I couldn’t see anything. A fool. That’s all I had ever been. A blind fool. Don’t trust these people. The memory of Mateo’s face yanked me back to the present.
“Status report of cure-development research,” I ordered.
“All research into the reversal of the Culling was discontinued seven months after the initiation of Project Wool. No viable solution to halt the process has been identified.”
They knew. Havelock, Dillion…maybe the others as well. They knew there was no cure from the start. I hadn’t trusted them, not fully. I knew they wanted more than just a cure. But I hadn’t suspected the cure itself was a lie. I thought I was clever. Instead, I was a pup among the wolves.
It all made sense now. They brought in an angry girl. A poor girl. Someone who hated the highborn. They watched me to make sure I was who they wanted. Alissa’s job was to keep me close, groom me. Havelock dangled the track team in front of me with a special tryout, knowing Nessmier would snatch it away. That was why he’d been furious when Alexander got me in, why they all reacted with horror when I told them Alexander had invited me to his house. They wanted someone who hated the highborn as much as they did. They used Mateo; dangling the cure in front of me. All to make sure I didn’t say no to this mission. Like the last girl who could trill must have. The one who had supposedly killed herself.
I walked over to Alissa and Nythan. He was still working furiously, his hair damp from sweat.
“It’s not here,” Nythan said, his voice near panic. “I’ve got every file. There’s no cure. No Project Wool.” He looked up at Alissa, his eyes as wide as I’d ever seen them. “We were wrong. How could we be wrong?”
“Just get the data you can, Nythan,” Alissa said soothingly. “Now isn’t the time to analyze. We’ll figure it out.”
I gazed cold hate at Alissa, my betrayer. My will was a sledgehammer. She had practiced fighting me off using her wall of polished marble, the stones high and precise. But it wasn’t enough. My fury had no bounds, no limit. I punched at her with my mind. Her wall shattered into a ruined heap.
“Tell me what happened to Marie-Ann,” I commanded.
Alissa turned to me. The muscles of her face twitched. The command was inside, but something within her still fought. She didn’t want to answer. But she had no choice.
“Lara,” she croaked. “She pushed her over the edge.”
Nythan made a choking sound. “What? Alissa, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Why did Lara push her? Tell me.”
Alissa’s mouth twitched. “I told Marie-Ann about the true mission. She wouldn’t agree to it. We’d seen her…talking to Kristolan…We…couldn’t take the chance.”
“Jacks of hell, Alissa. She was your friend—our friend,” Nythan gasped, his mouth not quite closed. He gazed at me, his eyes pleading. He spoke with as much passion as I’d ever heard him muster. “I didn’t know, Daniela. I swear it. I didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell Nythan about the true objective?” I asked Alissa.
“Havelock’s orders,” Alissa said. “Nythan’s psychological profile suggested that the prospect of mass casualties would make him reevaluate his participation, and we needed his expertise.”
Nythan’s hands balled themselves into fists. He was trembling.
“What mass casualties? What does Havelock really want?” I asked.
“Modify the controlColonies. Introduce the Culling DNA to the highborn parent strand. Infect an entire generation of highborn, as they sought to infect us. If we can keep our operation secret, if we can get out of here without them noticing, it could be months, or years, before they detect the change. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, will be infected. Their evil will be exposed beyond any ability to conceal it. They’ll search frantically for a cure, even as their children die around them. The system will become tainted, untrusted. The highborn will end. Or at least, suffer devastating damage.”
That was what Havelock meant by genocide. It was the highborn or the nopes, and he chose the highborn to die.
“They struck first, Daniela,” Dillion said from behind me, his voice grave. “We are protecting ourselves.” He stood no more than a foot away, his viser pointed at my head. His weaponized, Californian viser.
“What does California get out of this?” I asked. “Havelock couldn’t have gotten here without you. He wouldn’t have had the resources. Getting that train working took expertise.”
“The embargo is killing us. People are in the streets, hungry and angry. Most of the world is against us. They want us to fail. We need to reunify, make this country whole again. But that’s not going to happen as long as the Orderists are in power. This will bring them down. It will make people rethink everything.”
“Did you try to kill Landrew Foster-Rose-Hart? Did you plan to attack the Allocators’ Ball?”
“None of that is us. Landrew’s faction wants to invade Cali, the President’s supporters want to keep the embargo. Landrew planned the attack on the allocators. He wanted to provoke the allocators, get them all on his side, all those taxes and votes. He was betrayed by some of his own people. We don’t know why. It wasn’t us.”
“It’s the same stupid game,” I said. “Killing each other. You’re just as bad. Not every highborn is evil. If you condemn children to die at twenty, inscribing their fate into their genes before they are even born, how is that any better than what the Corporate Council has done in Korea?”
“You can’t be this naive,” Dillion spat. “Not where you come from. I know. I grew up someplace not so different. We are highborn in our genes, but our minds are free. We can make the choices that need to be made. I’m sorry we had to lie to you. We couldn’t take the chance. Not after Marie-Ann. Not after you cozied up to that highborn jack-A. But you’ve shown you are a fighter. Join us, Daniela, and we’ll develop the cure. We’ve got the computer data.”
“We should take the controlColonies,” Nythan said. “I’ve been looking at the Waste for years, without finding the solution. We’ll need the actual strains to make quick progress.”
Dillion shook his head. “If they know we were here, this all falls apart. The rods stay. That’s the highest priority. I’m sorry, but this world requires hard choices.”
My eyes narrowed. They had told me trilling a highborn was impossible. But Nythan had never counted on someone like me. I’d been practicing since I was five.
“Don’t do it, Daniela,” Dillion warned, his fingers flexing anxiously. “It can’t be done. And I’m not about to let you try. Your mouth even twitches and I’ll put you down. You can’t get out of here without me. My men control the train. You’re dead if you try to leave here and I’m not with you.”
His reflexes were probably as quick as mine. He expected an attack. And he was highborn. It wouldn’t work. But I didn’t see any other way.
Dillion’s eyes darted to his left as a screen hurtled towards him. He was quick, batting it away with his non-visered hand. But Nythan’s desperate gambit had given me the opening I needed. I plowed into Dillion with my right shoulder, putting everything I had into it. He was bigger, but I was fast. I heard the wind escape his lungs as he toppled onto the floor. I shoved a fist into his gut. I had my repulse spray in my hand a moment later. But he’d been trained to fight. His instincts took over. He rolled away even as I sprayed. The liquid caught the back of his neck but missed his face. Dillion gritted his teeth in agony even as he scrambled out of the way of my next shot. I chased him, spraying. I hit one of his hands with another burst. He cried out in pain. My spider-sense screamed. I twisted backwards as a projectile shot from Dillion’s viser, racing past my chin and striking the armored wall of the chamber’s inner ring. I waited for the alarm. Nothing. This room was invisible to the rest of the Ziggurat.
Lara crashed into me from behind. I staggered forward as she shoved me, more angry than strong. But she’d surprised me. I barely kept a grip on the repulse spray as I dropped to my knees. I thrust an elbow behind me, catching Lara on the mouth. I heard a satisfying crunch. I grabbed her head with both of my hands, pulling her close to me, her face pressed next to mine.
“Enough,” Dillion spat. “Put your hands on your head, you stupid bitch.”
He was standing above me, his viser aimed at my head. I showed him both my hands, empty. Slowly, I stood, my eyes never leaving his. He was in pain. The room smelled like burned flesh. His gaze said that he intended to kill me. I smiled. That got him. He had enough time for a split second of panic before Lara emptied the repulse spray onto his face, just as I had commanded.
Dillion cupped his hands over his eyes. He screamed, clawing at his face. But he was highborn. He yanked his hands down from his bubbling skin. Both eyelids were shut. He couldn’t see. Yet he still managed to spread his arms and leap towards the last spot I’d been standing in. I tried to twirl away, but he caught my hair with one of his hands. He pulled me down with him, thrashing at me even as his agony ate away at him. I jammed my knee into his gut, but he didn’t flinch. His nails dug into my arms. I felt my suit tear. The next moment his entire body jerked in a single sudden spasm, as if administered by an electric shock. He was completely still for a moment. Then he slumped down, his powerful fingers limp. A bioScalpel protruded from his back, Nythan’s trembling hand on the handle. Blood began to pool beneath him.
“Is he dead?” Nythan asked.
“As good as, I think,” I said, pulling myself back to my feet.
“Now what?” he asked.
I looked at the inner glass, at the controlColonies within. “Can you cure the Waste? Really cure it?”
“By myself? No. But with some help, and facilities and resources, perhaps. But I lack all of those, since I doubt Headmaster Havelock will be in a generous mood if we ever meet him again. But if we’re to have any chance of saving your brother, we need those rods. I’ve already got the computer data.” He raised his viser.
“Can you trash this place? Wipe out their work? You said it’s a closed system—not a network. We take the rods, destroy the data, and they can’t replicate the Waste. They can’t replicate the trilling gene. Not for many years, at least.”
Nythan rubbed his eyes. “You’re mostly correct. They might have a backup somewhere. But I’ll leave a nice little Trojan virus to deal with that. Way better than what I unleashed at Tuck. That was a baby compared to what I’ll leave here. I tucked it into this crazy viser they gave me, just in case things went bad. We just might be able to get it all.” He grinned. The game was back on for him.
“Get started,” I told him. “I’ll fish out those rods.”
“The consoles control the arms. The juche has already unlocked the system. Shouldn’t be too hard to finish the work. There’ll be a small door with an airlock somewhere inside the room. Bring the rods through there one at a time. Try not to drop them. They shouldn’t weigh more than three pounds each.”
I looked at my viser. It was one minute past nine. Not much time. We both got to work. The mechanized arms weren’t difficult to operate, but neither were they fast.
“We’ve got five minutes,” I told Nythan as I finished retrieving the rods.
“I’m ready,” he said, still flicking his fingers as he stood up from the terminal. “How do we get out?”
“Same way we got in,” I said. “That fancy-suited supervisor I trilled is easy enough to control. His hands can operate the security detectors. I’ll tell him he’s taking us out on the next scheduled tram. I’ll get Alissa and Lara to think the mission has been completed and they are following Dillion out.”
“Time is ticking,” Nythan pointed out. “On the way out, tell the security guards to receive a data confirmation from our supervisor friend, then feed it into their network. It’s another virus I’ll implant. Hopefully it’ll erase their security feeds, so they don’t know who we are. It’s set to blow in about fifteen minutes.”
“Got it.”
He shoved the rods inside his skin and adjusted the supervisor’s viser while I performed the necessary commands for our companions. Even with the bulk of the suit, I could see the outline of the rods, but only if I looked carefully. The original mission required secrecy, ours didn’t—we didn’t care about never being discovered. We only needed a few minutes to get to the train.
I commanded the Rose-Hart executive to lead us out of the airlock. The rest of us followed him. The temperature and pressure returned to normal. The exterior door swung open, revealing the long, white corridor with the guard station at the end. The moment I stepped out of the airlock behind Lara, the guard I had frozen on the way in turned sharply towards me. He wore a confused look on his face, like a man abruptly woken from a deep slumber.
I attacked before he got his wit
s back. My mind formed into a spray of small circular pellets. I came at him like the blast of a shotgun, portions of my will assaulting his sluggish defenses from all directions. His wall grew upwards and sideways. He caught almost everything I sent in the first wave. But three pellets got through. That was enough to wreak havoc. I saw his eyes flutter. I came again with a flood of cold will. This time he was too slow to stop me.
“Freeze. Breathe,” I ordered.
The other security guard looked at us from his tiny fortress. He squinted, perhaps not quite sure what he heard.
“Hallis, did you say something?” he asked the supervisor leading our line.
I took that guard down as easily as I had the first time. A hard, straight spear of will was all it took. I commanded him to download Nythan’s virus into the Rose-Hart security system, then freeze himself. I stole a surreptitious glance at my viser. We had two minutes left. The lift arrived and carried us downstairs, back to the sub-level. The enormous vault door groaned open, ignorant of my impatience. The opening became man-sized. Then bigger. Finally, the portal was fully opened. The suited executive started walking again, his pace measured and unhurried. I held my breath as we stepped through. No train.
I froze the final security officer. We were two minutes late. All this way, and we had missed it. Or had it never even come? I could feel Nythan grow anxious behind me. I stared at the tracks.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw light. The blur of something. I blinked twice more and an MTS train appeared, new and beautiful. My heart grew inside me. I fought to keep the smile off my face. The train door slid open.
The supervisor led us on board. The doors shut behind us. The emergency override chamber was occupied. A head peeked out.
“Need a ride?” Alexander asked me.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
“What is that jack-a-jock doing here?” Nythan demanded. He sounded more upset than he should’ve considering we’d otherwise have been stranded inside the Ziggurat.
