by C. A. Gray
“Oh. My goodness. You’re so paranoid.”
“And aren’t you so glad?” he gave me an angelic smile. I shook my head at him in a you’re-hopeless kind of way, but smiled back, kneading the biscuit dough. Some might say that biscuits and stew don’t go together, but I thought biscuits went with everything.
As Liam prepped the meat, Francis stalked unceremoniously into the kitchen, thrusting a pair of glasses at him, all rimmed with LED lights.
“Here,” was all he said. Liam took them, and Francis turned and walked out of the kitchen, without so much as a glance of acknowledgement to me.
“Thanks!” Liam called, rinsing his hands before he flipped the switch on the glasses. The LED lights were far more powerful than I’d expected for their size. Liam put them on his face, turning to me with an impish grin. “What do you think? Am I so hot you can hardly stand it?”
My mouth fell open in dismay. “What in the name of all that’s holy—”
He laughed, taking them off again and tucking them into the neck of his t-shirt. “I volunteered to go out for supplies tomorrow—far, far away from here, of course. But Halpert will have programmed the camera bots to scan for our faces: mine, yours, your mom’s, and probably Francis’s, too.”
I blinked. Too many things to respond to at once. Finally I settled on, “What camera bots?”
Liam gave me an odd look. “Are you serious? The camera bots. They’re in like every public space with any population density at all, constantly streaming to the labyrinth.”
“Since when?” I balked, my hands covered in flour and frozen in midair.
“Since like a decade ago. Do you live under a rock?”
I exhaled sharply. “That’s so creepy!”
His eyes widened as he measured water for the stew. “Should’ve been listening to me all these years…” he teased. I dipped my hands back in the loose flour, pinched some between my fingers, and tossed it at him in response. He ducked away, laughing, but most of it fluttered harmlessly on the table between us anyway. “Someone’s got to clean that up, you know.”
“Okay fine,” I said, popping the biscuits in the oven and rinsing my hands. “So, what do the creepy camera bots have to do with your ridiculous glasses?”
“The light will throw off their facial recognition programming, essentially casting the rest of my face in shadow,” he told me. “I’ll get some weird looks and it might put a flag in their system, but that won’t be enough to send police bots to investigate. Chop garlic, please,” he slid a garlic clove, a knife, and a cutting board in my direction.
Instead of obeying right away, my eyes narrowed at Liam, scanning him up and down. He still looked pretty frail to me.
“Stop checking me out, you’re making me uncomfortable.”
“You are recovering from a freaking pneumothorax, Liam,” I reminded him, ignoring his quip, “and you’ve only just today been cleared from a possible immune reaction that also could have killed you! Plus, as you said, you’re high profile. They’re looking for you. Why do you have to be the one to go back on the grid for supplies?”
“I don’t, but Nilesh and Rick will be off looking for Giovanni, the other engineer who helped build the Silver Six, and the only other people whom no one would recognize are Larissa and Dr. Yin. Love Larissa, but she might be the most scatterbrained person I’ve ever met, and Dr. Yin? Getting supplies?” He raised his eyebrows at me. I understood what he meant: such things were beneath her.
“Then let me go.”
“No,” he said immediately. “And your mom will say that too.”
“But if it’s not supposed to be dangerous with these stupid glasses of yours—”
“No,” he leaned forward and met my eyes now, all mirth gone.
“I wasn’t shot,” I countered, meeting his gaze and enunciating every word. “And you just finished telling me how it wasn’t dangerous. If that’s true, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go.”
“You’re moving your mouth, but I don’t care what comes out. You’re not going.”
He was trying to turn it into a joke again, but I knew he wasn’t actually kidding. I found that infuriating. I slammed the blunt side of the knife he’d given me into the skin of the garlic clove to crush it. “So it is dangerous. Either that, or you’re just being absurdly overprotective again!”
“Considering how things went down in Geneva, do you really think I overreacted?” he shot back, matching my tone. Then he sighed. “Look, Bec, I appreciate it, really. But I know what we need, and how to get it quickly and get out. I also have a better developed sense of self-preservation than you do—no offense. And like I said, it’s a moot point anyway, because your mom will never let you go. Given a choice between risking you or risking me…” He shrugged. “No contest.”
I scowled at him, chopping more vigorously than was strictly necessary. We didn’t speak much for the rest of the meal prep, until I set the table. When I came back into the kitchen, Liam stopped plating the food to search my face. “Why are you mad?”
“Because… I have no power! You pretty much told me there’s nothing I can say. Logic doesn’t work, apparently. It makes no sense why you should go when you’re barely out of bed and I’m completely fine, and you said it was safe, anyway. You can’t explain it either, except to say, ‘no, because I said so!’”
“Hey,” he crossed the distance to me, grabbing my shoulders and lowering his forehead so he could look directly into my eyes. It was that puppy dog look he always gave me when he was trying to melt my anger, but I was determined not to let him this time. He sighed. “Truth?”
“Yes. Please,” I added with a challenge, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Okay, it’s not one hundred percent safe. Obviously. There’s no such thing.”
“What percent safe is it, then?”
He waffled a bit. “Fif-ty?” he said cautiously, drawing out the word like he was trying it on for size.
“Fifty percent? There’s a fifty percent chance you might not come back?”
“No, no, I wouldn’t say that,” he backpedaled. “There’s a fifty percent chance I might run into… complications. That’s all. But I’m more used to this world than you are. I can improvise if I have to.”
I pointed at his chest. “Are you still on medication for that?” I knew he was. “What happens if you run into ‘complications’ and you also run out of energy? Huh? You think you’ll be faster on your feet than I am, even then?”
He closed his eyes. “Bec—”
“Give Francis back his stupid glasses, then. Let him go!”
“Francis was shot in the leg. I might not be fast at the moment, but I’m still faster than he is. No, Rebecca,” he said firmly, as I stepped back and gestured at my own completely intact body.
“Why? Chivalry is great and all, Liam, but there comes a point—”
He took a step closer, moving his hands from my shoulders to my chin, cupping my face.
“Don’t give me that look,” I muttered, “it won’t work.” Even though it kind of was working.
“I’m having nightmares,” he confessed at last in a low voice. “Every night since we’ve been here, and during the day when I was sleeping for half of that, too. I keep dreaming about what could have happened in Geneva. I wake up in a cold sweat, and for those few terrible seconds after I wake up, I’m not sure if it was a dream or if it really happened.” I saw him clench and un-clench his jaw. He didn’t elaborate, but I could only think of one thing he could be referring to that would make sense in the context of this conversation. Finally he added in a strained voice, “Don’t make me live that, Bec.” He let me go then, walking to the kitchen door and bellowing out to the others, “Dinner’s ready!”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Chapter 6
“There has to be a safer way than the Quantum Track!” Dr. Yin insisted at dinner, her normally placid face flus
hed as she glared at Mom. “Even without the A.E. chips, if a single camera catches a glimpse of their faces—”
“That’s why we’re sending Rick and Nilesh,” Mom countered. “Halpert has no reason to associate Nilesh with us or the Renegades at all. Rick was a security guard on staff but he kept a low enough profile that I doubt they’ve put together that he vanished with Mack and me.”
“Halpert is a robot!” Dr. Yin shouted.
“That doesn’t make him omniscient, Ana.” Mom spoke as if to a child, tearing into a biscuit with her teeth and chewing with finality. I knew that strategy of Mom’s well: her very condescension had the effect of dismissing her opponent’s argument, and she typically reserved it for those who clearly had no intention of backing down or seeing reason. I’d overheard enough in previous conversations over the past two days to know that Dr. Yin had earned such treatment by challenging Mom’s authority. Dr. Yin was usually so mild—but she was also used to being in charge herself. Her sudden and unqualified subordination to another woman, especially one roughly her own age, seemed to goad her.
“The only people among us who are yet completely unconnected to the Renegades as far as the Silver Six know are you, Nilesh, and Larissa,” Mom went on after she’d swallowed. “Larissa and Francis are knee deep in their own research, so unless you would like to accompany Nilesh instead of Rick—”
“No indeed!” gasped Dr. Yin.
Mom shrugged. “Well then, the team stands. Liam will drive them to the Quantum Track and then take the Track to St. Louis for supplies.”
“Do you think he’s really strong enough for that yet, Mom?” I asked her pointedly, giving Liam a significant look beside me.
She nodded. “Hepzibah cleared him, as long as he takes his medication every four hours. She’ll give him enough for a week, just in case.”
I raised my eyebrows, and challenged, “Just in case… what?”
“Just… in case,” Mom repeated, with an exasperated hand gesture to represent the myriad of things this might encompass. Clearly that was all she was going to say on the matter.
Liam groped for my hand under the table, found it, and gave it a squeeze, with a tiny smile meant only for me. I gave him a cross glare and didn’t squeeze back to show my displeasure, but let him keep my hand in his until he let it go.
“Hey,” said Larissa, probably feeling the tension and wanting to change the subject, “What ever happened to those innocent people who were framed for Renegade loci?”
There was a silence, and I looked at Francis and then Liam. “That’s right. You said we’d worry about helping them later, after we got our answers about Halpert. It’s later. Shouldn’t we do something to help them?”
Mom gave an exasperated sigh before Liam could reply. “Rebecca…”
“What?” I snapped, more annoyed at her tone than anything else. “That’s not a stupid question!”
“No, but we have to prioritize.” Mom now turned her condescension on me. “There are only nine of us, and most of us have to keep a low profile.”
“But—we framed them!” I protested. “If Wallenberg kills them, it will be our fault!”
“Rebecca, this discussion is over,” Mom said with finality.
I narrowed my eyes at her, and before I could stop myself, snapped, “What am I, seven? You think ‘no, because I said so’ is all the explanation I deserve?”
“This is not about age, it’s about rank,” Mom narrowed her eyes at me, “and possibly about maturity. Frankly, I’m not impressed with yours at the moment.”
I’d had enough. I felt everybody’s eyes on me as I shoved my chair back from the table, stalking off in the direction of the compound’s large double front doors. I could hear Francis quip behind me in his dry tone, “Dinner and a show! You certainly know how to entertain in style, M.”
The oppressive humidity of the tunnels caught me off guard compared to the recirculated air inside the compound. But the total silence cooled my ire. When the anger subsided, I started to feel embarrassed. I’d just been so angry at Mom all of a sudden—and not just about her refusal to stage a rescue operation. Was I still mad that she had lied to me?
I’m not sure how long I stood like that there. I do know that some part of me hoped for the footsteps I finally heard approaching behind me. I turned, but only when I felt the stab of disappointment did I realize I’d been hoping for Liam.
“You okay?” Larissa asked timidly.
“Sure,” I said as I turned away from her. Maybe if I gave the impression I didn’t want company, she’d go away.
“I asked Francis about them for you,” Larissa volunteered at last. “The people framed for his and Liam’s loci. He said the guy framed for Liam’s, Erik, had already been tried for treason and quietly executed.”
“What?” I gasped.
She nodded, sorrowful. “The trial was a sham, of course, like all of Wallenberg’s trials. He was a petty drug dealer, but he didn’t deserve that.”
I sank to my knees. Suddenly I felt hollow.
“Francis said the woman framed for his locus, Alessandra Russo, was tried and convicted also, but she escaped. She’s on the run now.”
I looked up at Larissa, wide-eyed. “We have to help her!”
She nodded. “I know.”
I sighed in despair. “But if the Silver Six can’t even find her, what hope do we have?”
“We have Francis,” she said confidently, reaching out her hand to pull me back to my feet. “Francis can do anything!”
I snorted. “I hope you don’t say stuff like that to him. All he needs is a cheering section.”
When we walked back inside, I could see that the dining hall had cleared out except for Mom and Mack. I intentionally averted my eyes from them, communicating that I didn’t feel like talking in a way that I knew Mom would understand. I could feel her eyes on me, and could see her stillness in my peripheral vision as she watched to see what I would do, deciding how she would respond. I almost relented, feeling guilty for giving her the cold shoulder, especially after she’d sacrificed everything to save me. But then I thought of Erik and Alessandra, and it steeled my resolve.
“Rebecca,” called Mack’s voice, but before he could say anything else, my mother said to him in a tired voice, “No, just let her go, Mack.”
I gritted my teeth. Well, if she wasn’t going to apologize, then neither was I.
“Are you still mad that your mom didn’t tell you who she was?” Larissa whispered gently as we descended the steps to the basement. We both knew that was the most likely place to find Francis. “Or are you mad that she’s dating someone?”
“I’m not mad that she’s dating someone!” I snapped, “she’s a grown woman, she can do whatever she wants!” I saw Larissa’s frozen expression out of the corner of my eye and glanced at her face: her raised eyebrows and wide eyes told me all I needed to know. She didn’t believe me for a second. And suddenly I didn’t believe myself either.
Oh man. I really was seven.
“I’m sorry I keep snapping at you,” I told Larissa. “None of this is your fault, and you’re being a good friend to me, better than I deserve. I’m just… on edge, I guess.”
“You should try pretending you’re the star of a film where we’re heroes in a cosmic battle, and this is all an elaborate set,” she suggested with a shy smile. “Maybe it’s cheating, but it’s been working for me.”
We found Francis in the basement with Liam and Nilesh, sitting in front of three adjacent netscreens. I was thankful that either they hadn’t heard my conversation with Larissa as we’d approached, or they’d been so immersed in what they were doing that they weren’t listening. Liam looked up first, and his eyes lingered on my face, questioning. I gave him a nod and a tiny smile.
“Francis?” Larissa asked tentatively. “Are you in the middle of something terribly important?”
“We’re just finalizing Nilesh and Rick’s plan to get Gi
ovanni tomorrow, but I think we’ve got it,” Liam answered for him. “What’s up?”
Larissa cleared her voice, still looking at Francis when she spoke, and not Liam. “Remember you told me Alessandra Russo had escaped and was on the run?”
“Yes,” Francis said flatly, his eyes still glued to his screen.
Larissa and I looked at each other, and she rushed on, “We were hoping… you could help us find her.”
“Not worth it,” he stated in the same monotone. “High risk, low probability of success, low reward.”
Nilesh dashed a few keystrokes across his netscreen and then said suggestively, “Oh really? Low reward, huh?”
Something in the tone of his voice caught even Francis’s attention, and everyone looked at the image on Nilesh’s netscreen. The woman in the image had long dark hair, sultry blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a pouty rosette mouth. She was beautiful in a seductive kind of way: the kind of beautiful that couldn’t help but know it. Involuntarily I glanced at Liam to see how he would react. Like Nilesh, his eyebrows were raised in appreciation. But Francis’s face had gone slack.
“There’s no way,” he said, awestruck.
“That’s her, man,” Nilesh grinned at him.
“But—she’s a genius!” Francis spluttered, shaking his head. “To the point where she could pass for me, that level of genius…” He swiveled back to his own netscreen with a new fervor, typing commands to the Commune member on the other end so fast I could barely see his fingers.
I glanced at Larissa. She was visibly upset by this reaction. I squeezed her shoulder, suddenly feeling a sisterly solidarity.
“Ha!” Francis gloated aloud. “Ha!”
“What?” asked Liam.
“She falsified her medical records and got herself referred to neurosurgery for removal of her A.E. chip for migraines! The neurosurgeon bot realized it and she got recaptured, but apparently in prison, she managed to reprogram a bot to steal a scalpel and some alcohol for her. She literally cut out and destroyed her own chip, and then had the reprogrammed bot stage a power outage. That’s how she escaped!” He shook his head in slow admiration.
