by Rebecca Rode
Alex went rigid and stepped to the side, placing distance between us. He hadn’t forgiven me for last night. Fine. I hadn’t forgiven him either.
The director gave a short speech about our Declarations, what they meant, and our potential to change the world or some such nonsense. Then she addressed the graduates, advising us to choose carefully. If we later regretted our choice of career, it would take an order from my father himself to reverse it—and he didn’t often grant those. It was a policy I happened to agree with. It would ruin the system to make exceptions all the time.
Finally, it was Alex’s turn. The park went quiet as he stepped forward.
“I’m Alexandrite Hawking, firstborn of His Honorable Malachite Hawking. I’m pleased to accept his invitation of an Honor Fellowship. I thank you again for your undying support.”
I managed not to gag while the audience applauded. Firstborn. Honor Fellowship. It was like he wanted to beat me over the head with the words. Throwing Dad’s name where it didn’t belong would only irritate people. Besides, only Hawking supporters gave us “undying support.” Over a third of the country disapproved of Dad’s policies. If Alex didn’t realize that, he truly was delusional about real life.
He stepped back, and I took his place, pulling up the mental file I’d created last night. The words floated in my vision in dark letters. Every set of eyes was on me now. Dad stood near the back of the crowd before us, surrounded by his bodyguards and probably being orbited by several more in civilian attire. His expression took a chunk out of my resolve. He looked happy for the first time in months.
I tugged at my deep-silver dress, chosen from Mom’s closet. She’d let me borrow it last year. “It complements your green eyes and dark hair,” she’d said.
She should be here.
My eyes suddenly went raw. I blinked the pain away as the applause died out.
“I’m Legacy Hawking,” I began, trying desperately not to let my voice wobble. “Daughter of Malachite and Andreah Hawking. I’m afraid I won’t be taking the second Honor Fellowship position with Alex as originally planned. I’ve decided to accept the invitation of Director Virgil at Neuromen Labs instead.”
I’d expected dramatic gasps, but the entire crowd just went rigid and still. Dad’s face drained of color. His eyes were two round, dark spots against a startlingly white canvas.
“I’m eager to continue the work my mother died to bring into the world,” I continued, my voice pleading now as if addressing Dad. “I realize that there’s tension between the program and the government, but until that’s resolved, I’d like to contribute what I can.” A pause. That last part hadn’t been planned, but it felt right. “Thank you.”
I stepped back, allowing the next graduate to take my place. It was over. I felt limp. My family wouldn’t understand, but I would find the answers Dad refused to give. I would discover the truth if it took a lifetime.
I barely heard the next graduate’s Declaration. “I, Aada Clarinn, declare my intention to enter the civil engineering field. I’d like to thank my family . . .”
Dad was already gone. He’d slipped into the crowd. Gone back to the office? Recovering from his shock in a transport? It was impossible to know.
Slowly, cautiously, I pulled up a few broadcasting stations. One displayed an unflattering capture of myself just seconds earlier, my mouth gaped in speech. I decided not to turn up the volume.
Several more graduates Declared, followed by a girl with extremely short black hair that emphasized her slender neck and smoky-quartz-brown skin. I knew her vaguely from my science classes.
“Amelia ‘Millian’ Comondor, at your service,” she said with a tilted curtsy to the crowd.
I hid a grin. At your service? Now I remembered why most of our graduating class laughed behind her back. Millian, like the number, only spelled wrong. Everything about her was wrong—the too-close eyes that made her look confused, her clashing outfit. Yet she posed like a queen for the cameras. It almost made me like her.
“I’m pleased to announce that I, too, am joining Neuromenon Labs.”
My breath caught. It hadn’t occurred to me that others might choose the same path. I did a quick search for graduates who’d declared for Neuromenon and found only a half dozen across the country so far, all top students with a science emphasis. I shifted my weight. Most of the public knew how terrible my science grades had been. Were they laughing at me as much as at Millian?
I dismissed the IM-NET, letting the overlay screen disappear. Let them think what they wanted. Virgil had invited me, and I’d made my choice.
The Firebrand went several minutes later. “Kole Mason, declaring for Neuromen as well.” He stepped back and buried himself in line, his scowl deeper than before.
I blinked. How had a boy from the Shadows received an official invitation? Why would he even accept? Surely he was too busy dreaming of massive government overhauls to care about his future.
I thought back to the earlier broadcast and their musing about his lack of potential. Something to prove? An attempt to climb out of poverty? The timing of all this certainly was suspect. Our argument yesterday, and now he was following me to Neuromen. The two couldn’t be related, could they? I ground my teeth in frustration. Obviously I’d missed something.
Kole must have felt my eyes on him because he met my gaze with a hard stare of his own.
I tore my eyes away and focused on the next graduate, hoping my heated cheeks weren’t noticeable. I was Legacy Hawking, granddaughter of Her Honorable Treena Hawking. I didn’t much care what a random Firebrand did or why.
Meanwhile, I allowed myself the tiniest swell of victory. I’d done it. My family’s expectations no longer had a hold on my life. I felt Alex’s eyes boring into me, but it didn’t matter now. For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly free.
“Can you tell us why you changed your mind?” the reporter asked.
I fought to remain focused on the man’s face, a hard feat considering Kole was being interviewed just three meters away. He spoke quietly, thoughtfully. If I hadn’t argued with him just yesterday, I’d believe he was a gentle and intelligent graduate headed off to a bright future.
Good thing I knew better.
“Miss Hawking? Are you okay?”
I blinked and glanced at the camera. Oh, there were three on me now. “Yeah. My mom believed in her research, and I do too. I’m pleased to be offered an opportunity to continue the work she started.”
“Have you always had your eye on the science field?”
“Not at all. But sometimes you just have to go your own way.”
“An admirable view, Miss Hawking, especially considering your test results don’t show an aptitude for science. Do you hope to overcome that stigma during Training Week?”
My eyes narrowed as the reporter waited expectantly. I was a fool for hoping the subject wouldn’t come up. Of course the press had my aptitude-test results. “I’m honored that Director Virgil saw my potential. I intend to overcome anything that stands in my way.”
Kole’s interview ended. He strode away without thanking the reporters. Then the crowd parted, and my dad was there.
“Thank you,” the reporter said quickly, drawing back to give us a little privacy. The cameras, however, continued to roll.
I’d expected Dad to grab my arm and yank me through the audience like a child, lecturing me all the while about telling them I’d made a mistake. One word, and he could order my choice revoked. But he just stood there in his best suit, his collar uncharacteristically askew and his chest moving up and down like it took a monumental effort to breathe.
Then he wrapped me in his arms.
I felt my eyes go wide as my body stiffened. Dad hadn’t hugged me since . . . I couldn’t even remember. Long before Mom’s funeral, where he’d stood rooted like his feet were part of the earth. His arms trembled. Slowly, mechanically, I lifted my arms to pat his back.
“You don’t know what you’ve done,�
� he whispered into my hair, his voice muffled. “This can’t be taken back. It can’t . . . you can’t . . .” With a cry, he tore away and walked off.
The cameras followed him, leaving me alone.
Alex approached from somewhere and applauded. “It’s official. You’re an idiot.”
I kept my eyes on Dad. The reporter was one step behind him, shouting questions at his back. “Is he okay?”
“He lost Mom to a huge explosion. Now you’re headed to the same lab without the scientific expertise Mom had. You’ll be completely reliant on the one man Dad hates with all his being. So no, he’s not okay.”
“I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“Yeah? Well, you did.”
I stepped back, putting space between us. “The transport will be here soon. Will you tell him I’ll miss him? And that I won’t let anything happen to me. And tell him . . . tell him I’m going to discover the truth.”
Alex groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I flinched. “I understand what Dad thinks of Virgil, but—”
“What Dad knows of him. He’s going to use you, Legacy. Just like he used Mom.”
“Let him try.”
He sighed and held out a hand. “Seems like you’ve made up your mind, then. Good luck.”
Feeling a distant camera on us, I gripped his hand and gave it a hard shake. Inside, I was puzzled. A handshake? What were we, work partners?
My twin shrugged and strode off, his attention already captured by something—or someone—at the edge of the crowd.
Something was off. He’d given up too easily. No farewell, no offers to keep in touch. It was almost as if he were relieved.
Of course he was glad. If there was ever a question of who Dad would announce as his successor on our next birthday, there wasn’t now. Good. Let him follow Dad around like a good little lapdog. I had other plans.
A message scrolled across my vision.
ALL NEUROMEN RECRUITS: HEAD TO THE SOUTHEAST TRANSPORT LOT FOR YOUR ASSIGNED PICKUP.
The other graduates must have also received pickup instructions from their respective companies because an excited cry rose from the crowd. Families hugged each other through smiles and tears. Friends offered promise-filled goodbyes. I’d hoped to say goodbye to Travers, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I folded my arms, suddenly feeling very much alone. Mom would have hugged me to the very last second and escorted me to the transport, discussing how exciting it would be to work together.
At least Gram would approve. Carmen was likely telling her right now, raging about my choice while Gram looked on with a knowing smile.
Across the crowd, Kole shuffled his feet, looking every bit as alone as I felt. No family members or friends had shown up to see him off. At least he hadn’t gotten lectures and guilt trips about his choice.
Straightening, I turned my back on the platform and the reporters and all that remained of my former life. Then I marched toward destiny.
Six
Kole
I waited until the last second to join the others on the transport, half hoping Dane would come running onto the trampled grass and say he didn’t need me after all. Not that it would have mattered. My management position at the factory would be filled by someone else before I even reached the lab.
The transport was simple and unmarked—four-seater, plain gray interior, huge tinted windows. I appreciated the discretion. Riding to my new job in some flamboyant, Neuromen-logo-riddled vehicle would have been too much. A pretty blonde escort with tightly bound hair sat impatiently at the front.
I plopped into the only seat available, the one across from a moody Legacy Hawking, and flung my night bag between us. She glared out the window while braiding her dark hair over one shoulder, eyes glazed over. Probably watching herself being discussed on the IM-NET. I didn’t get her at all. Was this a cry for attention or simply a way to piss her dad off? I was willing to bet it had nothing to do with “continuing where Mom left off” or whatever.
I didn’t check the IM-NET myself. Any theories people had about me were wrong and irrelevant.
Legacy’s presence would complicate things. Any minute, my uncle would discover the heiress’s Declaration and devise a new slew of plans to use her. This time, I couldn’t just tell him no. His house was only twenty minutes from Mom’s hospital room, and Neuromen was an hour’s transport ride. Until I earned enough to move Mom to a closer hospital, I was pure Firebrand puppet material.
Next to the blonde woman sat a black-haired girl I recognized from school. She had a strange name. Thousand or something. She knelt to peer over the seat at us.
“Hate to interrupt the brooding and all,” she said, “but I’m Millian, top scorer in the district in neurotechnology and a huge Virgil fan. I’m taking his job someday. How about you guys?”
I grunted. Legacy kept scowling out the window, though by the clearness of her eyes, she’d at least turned her broadcast off.
Millian rolled her dark-brown eyes. “Fine. Let’s do awkward, then. It’s not like we’ll be living and working together for the rest of our lives or anything.” She slid down to face the front again.
Legacy folded her arms to match her slender legs, one crossed over the other. She may as well have a laser sign over her head reading, “Leave me alone or else.”
The escort must have received a message of some kind because she turned in her seat with a suddenly bright smile, then said, “Thank you for arriving so promptly. We’re pleased to have you. We’ll be arriving at Neuromen and your new home in sixty-seven minutes. Enjoy the trip.”
New home. I didn’t know Legacy’s reason for being here, but it was clear Millian was the only new recruit from our city who was happy with the whole Neuromen thing.
I adjusted my shirt. I’d buttoned it nearly to my neck today to cover the raw patch of skin boasting my new hidden Firebrand tattoo. It burned against the rough cloth. The only consolation was that Mom wouldn’t know I’d taken the oath for several more months when she awoke from her coma. Most of our recruits had to wait until their eighteenth birthday. Lucky me.
Traffic from other company transports slowed us getting out of the parking lot, which suited me just fine. I ran through my uncle’s orders once again as the park grew smaller in the distance.
Keep an eye on Virgil. The man directed a huge company, so I wasn’t sure how easy this would be.
Discover what the new implant update does. I’d start by asking around for information, determining who could be trusted and who couldn’t. That was always the most dangerous part.
Don’t blow your cover. Legacy Hawking obviously knew what I was, but there was no indication that anyone else did. The longer things stayed that way, the less suspicious I would appear to Director Virgil. Keeping a low profile, giving everyone the illusion of a quiet, obedient teenager, would be essential.
I wasn’t a fool. I knew what failure in any of these areas would mean. Not only would I never see my mother alive again, but my standing with the party would be jeopardized. Bad things happened to the Branded when they strayed from the cause.
“You look awfully somber,” Legacy muttered, and I wondered how long she’d been watching. “No better options, then?”
“Not exactly.”
“They say you turned down a management position with better pay. I’m curious to know why.”
I stifled a groan. “While you’re throwing judgments around, ask yourself the same question.”
“I have my reasons.”
“So do I.”
“It’s a harmless question—”
“Look. I know this is the first time you’ve been away from Daddy, but just because we’ll be working together doesn’t mean we’re friends. You’re still a Hawking, and I’m still . . . who I am. That isn’t going to change.” Last night’s hurried branding ceremony had clinched it forever.
I turned toward the window and away from her. Her gaze burned into my back for a long moment. I pushed
away the guilt. Surely an heiress was used to bluntness on occasion. The more distance between me and the Hawkings, the better.
My uncle’s web was the last place Legacy wanted to end up.
She chuckled. “Right. Forgive me. I forgot that Firebrands don’t believe in common decency.” The seat squeaked as she turned away, probably to glare out the window once more.
Right. Common decency like you just gave Millian. The thought gave me little pleasure.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
Seven
Legacy
I pushed Kole’s rude response to the back of my mind as the city I’d grown up in shrank in the distance. The drive to the lab was a familiar one—a winding road through forestland that suddenly opened up into a wide expanse of ocean. A narrow white bridge, wide at the entrance and tapering into a graceful arc, took us over the coastline and onto the island where Neuromen stood. The bay was a brilliant blue below us as the trees disappeared behind.
The inside would have been disappointing if I hadn’t seen it before. The lab’s stark-white theme was everywhere—on the high ceilings, glossy walls, and even shinier floors. It was like room after room of hardened milk. As always, my stomach flip-flopped for a second as I struggled to get my bearings.
Two things, however, were new. The dizzying ceiling was now broken up by a series of tiny sprinkler heads. If those filled every room in the building, Virgil was determined to halt any new fires before they truly began. The second addition was the neat line of employees with tidy gray uniforms. They greeted the newly arrived graduates, who increased by the minute as transports arrived from various cities. None of the workers wore the white coat of a scientist. We weren’t important enough to tear them away from their work.
I nodded to the employees as we passed. Some returned the gesture, while others simply examined me curiously. I felt as comfortable as an earthworm in a gull’s mouth until one, a woman with graying hair as short as Millian’s, gave me a smile and a wink. At least someone here was friendly.
