Ascendancy

by Karri Thompson

  “I got it,” said Michael.

  “Okay, hand it back to me. I’ll wedge it back into place once you’re up here. Stuff your pillow under your blanket so it looks like you’re in bed. Then stand on the bed and I’ll help you up.”

  Dropping onto my stomach, I scooted forward, letting my arms dangle below the vent opening. He smiled up at me, his cheekbones casting shadows against his neck, and when I clasped his warm hands, I was happy for the first time since Magnum took Victoria from me.

  “You’re not high enough. Try the chair.”

  “Can’t. It’s bolted to the floor. I already tried to do this.”

  “Then you’re going to have to use me like a rope, but the inside of the duct is really smooth. It’ll be hard to brace myself against your weight.”

  My biceps burned when he pressed one foot against the wall and pushed upward, scaling the seven feet of wall that remained between us. The muscles in my shoulders tensed as their tendons stretched under his weight, and when my body slid forward, I pushed my feet against the side walls of the vent—hard.

  “Hurry. I can’t hold you for much longer,” I groaned, expecting to hear my arms pop from their sockets.

  But in the next minute, Michael pulled himself onto my back, kicking wildly behind him to increase his speed. I exhaled loudly as he wrenched himself forward and then bit my bottom lip to stall a scream of pain. As I withdrew from the vent opening, he crawled over me and collapsed onto his back after he cleared my feet.

  I could hear him breathing behind me while I reset the panel, hard and steady.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to do this.”

  “I know,” I said and bent forward to kiss his lips. His hand slid behind my neck and I lay my head on his chest and listened to the quick beating of his heart while his hands fell to my waist.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, scrutinizing the splash of blood on my tunic.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not mine. Got in a fight with a tech to get here.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “You had to be somewhere on floor eighteen.”

  I took the lead on all fours, conscious of his steps behind me as he easily kept up with my anxiety-fed pace. When we reached an intersection in the duct, I stopped.

  “Okay, just a few more turns, and then we enter the wall. One section is really narrow. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to squeeze through it.”

  I scanned Michael’s body, his broad shoulders, pecs and upper arms that bulged with muscle. Even in a light-blue tunic and hospital pants he was gorgeous. The thin fabric against his back was blood-soaked in streaks that ran from his shoulder blades to his lower back. I cupped my mouth with my hand and sucked in a tight breath.

  “Oh my God, what happened?” I gasped, my voice trembling.

  “Got in a fight with a bot, and I’m proud to say I kicked its ass, but not before I was laser whipped and it screwed up my knee.”

  “I’m so sorry. How’s your arm?”

  “Not bad. Doesn’t hurt anymore, and it finally scabbed over.” He smiled and I kissed his forehead.

  With the next few steps, the duct widened just enough to walk hunched over, but when he stood, his knee gave out and we had to stop.

  “Damn SEC,” he said, wincing as he tried to bend it. “Don’t worry. I can do it. I’ll just need to rest it every once in a while.”

  I grabbed his hand and we wound two lefts and two rights, Michael limping and grimacing every time his knee bore too much weight. My own ankle throbbed and felt tight and swollen, but it was loose and didn’t hurt enough to impair me.

  At the next left we came across the opened panel that would take us into the wall, and I squeezed through first and helped Michael from the other side as he lowered his toes onto the ledge.

  “There’s an A.G.-Lift just ahead. We have to clear the shaft. It’ll take two jumps.”

  “Jump? I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “We’ll jump together.”

  “No! If I can’t make it, I’m not taking both of us down.”

  I squared my shoulders. “It’s the only way. If we run side by side with our arms linked, you’ll match my speed. Our combined momentum alone should be enough to take both of us to the platform.”

  But I could see the inner athlete in Michael was deflated. “Even jumping together, I won’t have the strength in my knee to—”

  “Don’t think about it—just do it! Now get up,” I demanded, lifting him by the arm, locking it in mine, and walking backward to give us some running room.

  “One, two, three—jump!”

  We landed with a thud, and Michael’s injured ankle buckled. He grunted and rubbed it while I knelt at his side. After a deep breath, we bounded to the other side. His foot slipped from the platform and I steadied him while he regained his balance.

  “See, I told you we could do it,” I said. But as he winced in pain, I hesitated, unsure if he had enough strength left to scale two more floors.

  “I entered the wall through a bot closet on the sixteenth floor and climbed up to the eighteenth. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Climb? I don’t know if I can,” he said. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose.

  I centered the beam of the infinity light on the number eighteen. “There should be a bot closet on every floor, right?”

  “There is at GenH1.”

  “Then it should be the same here. So…” I ran the beam along the wall. “We just need to find one on this floor instead.”

  We squirmed through the inner wall crevices, dodging studs and opting for the thicker wedges of wall supplying wire to external monitors and obscuras.

  Then we saw it—the back of a bot-recharging panel.

  Three kicks and it was loose enough for Michael to pry away.

  The closet was occupied, forcing us to wiggle through the opening and slip behind a janitor bot, a JAN. Michael rounded his shoulders to fit through. Being free from the inner workings of GenH3 was almost within reach.

  He held me against him and when his soft breath hit my throat, I lifted my chin and kissed the soft place under his jaw. He inhaled deeply, squeezed my hand, and said, “Thank you.”

  “I need to thank you. If you didn’t draw those officers away from me I would have been caught, too.” I traced the side of his face with my fingertips, and he kissed me back sweetly. After the much needed five-minute rest I opened the bot closet an inch to peek outside. “Clear,” I whispered.

  I entered the hall first, Michael at my heels, his hand in mine. As we tiptoed in the dim hall, my pulse pounded, and I swallowed hard to calm myself. His handhold hurt my palm, and when we paused at each corner he flexed his knee and took a deep breath.

  “Doing okay?” I asked, my eyebrows crinkling together with concern.

  “Yeah. The maintenance elevator for this floor should be two turns away. I can make it.”

  We rode the walls single-file to avoid as many obscuras as we could, crossing into the next wing. From around the corner a soft clicking rang upon the acrylic floor.

  “A JAN,” I whispered.

  The JAN casually walked by, a motorized cleaning stick in one hand, and turned its head first left and then right. Its gray eyes dilated when they met mine, but I held a cold stare and refused to blink. Being unbanded, I knew the bot wouldn’t recognize Michael and me as being human, but the last thing we needed was a bot deciding that the two of us were objects that needed to be suctioned and sanitized. Thankfully, the bot took two steps forward, readjusted its gaze, and continued down the next hall.

  Once we were in the maintenance corridor I felt a little safer. My heartbeat slowed and our pace slowed with it, giving Michael’s knee another needed break.

  “Wait. I hear something.” I put my hand against his chest as he came up behind me.

  The light tapping of shoes echoed down the next hall.

  “That’s no JAN,” he whispered. “It’s pr
obably a low-level medical tech making the nightly rounds. A tier four won’t bother to question us, especially if we just say hello and keep walking.”

  “Are you kidding?” Michael was more confident than I. His white slippers, ill-fitting tunic and pants had “patient” written all over them, and with my semi-sexy tunic, leggings, and boots, I couldn’t pass for an employee.

  A hand shot from around the corner and grasped my shoulder. I reached for my laser pistol, but my attacker caught my arm and forced it downward.

  Michael’s face warped with rage, his eyes gleaming, his nostrils flaring. He seized my assailant, tossed the guy against the far wall, and held him there, clenching the guy’s collar in his left hand. But just before Michael could plant a right punch, the guy pulled up his sleeve to reveal his armband. It was decorated with white dots and the phrase “alea iacta est.”

  “Who are you?” I whispered while Michael continued to brace the guy against the wall.

  “Marshall, Magnum’s nephew.” He whispered back.

  Michael released him, and Marshall readjusted his tunic. “I was coming to see you,” he said to Michael. “And you’re not supposed to be here,” he said, pointing his finger in my face.

  “I couldn’t leave without him,” I confessed.

  “You shouldn’t have done this. You broke orders,” said Marshall, leading us to a large supply closet and flicking on the light with a command to his L-Band.

  “I’m guessing that’s been modified,” I said, gesturing to Marshall’s band.

  “Yup, I know all of my uncle’s tricks, and maybe even more.” He smiled, and just like Magnum, a pair of dimples appeared.

  “So. I’m supposed to be following orders?” I asked.

  “You wear one of those, you follow orders.” He poked my arm in the place where the band was hidden under my tunic.

  “Your uncle didn’t quite put it like that.”

  “My uncle has a soft spot for you—for both of you—but I don’t. From now on, if you’re ordered to do something, do it,” he snapped.

  Even though there was no genetic relation, Marshall was like a younger version of Magnum. Slender but with muscular upper arms, he had the build of a lightweight boxer, and with his distinctive cheek bones, strong jaw, blue eyes, and brown hair, in my century, he and Magnum could have been mistaken for close relatives.

  “And who’s giving the orders?”

  “It’s not something you need to know. I’m here because I’ve been ordered to protect you. Right now, you need us as much as the world needs you.”

  Us? Who was us? Marshall’s strict and nonnegotiable directives didn’t make him any better than the regional government.

  Who could I trust? Who could I believe? I was more confused than ever, but I did know one thing—I’d rather be anywhere than in an isolation room at GenH3.

  “You know Magnum took my daughter from me,” I said, in a dead, irritated tone.

  “Of course I know. We all know, and it’s something that can’t be discussed.”

  “Why not? Because I’m not an official member of your so-called secret society or whatever it is?”

  “Because it’s against the rules, and I’m breaking one just saying what I’m saying.”

  “Do you know where she is? Tell your uncle I want her back. Now!” My hands curled into fists.

  “We’re not saying any more about it. Understand? My uncle told you everything you need to know. I’m not here to answer your questions. I’m here because I just happened to intercept communication between region security and GenH3 in regard to Michael. And I told my uncle.”

  “And what did he tell you to do?” Michael asked. Still pumped with adrenaline, he squared his shoulders, rubbed his bruised jaw, and straightened his injured knee.

  He said to Michael, “Find you. Tell you that we know where you are. Then tell you to hang tight. Unless I discovered your health or life was going to be jeopardized, my orders were to just leave you there, where you’d be safe.”

  “Leave me in an isolation cell? Great!” Michael said and shook his head. His lips were tight, and he took a deep breath through his nose.

  “But the plan has obviously changed.” He snickered.

  “Back to the way it was supposed to be. We go to Chu-Lung’s?”

  “Yeah, but you’re three hours behind schedule, and as soon as it’s discovered Michael’s gone, the region will be full of SECs looking for you.” Marshall pulled off his tunic. “I’m giving you my clothes,” he said to Michael. “You wouldn’t make it out of the subdivision wearing yours.”

  I turned my back while Michael changed, and when I turned around, he was completely clothed in Marshall’s jeans, tunic, and tennis shoes. It was a tight fit. The muscles in Michael’s arms bulged through the fabric, the hem of the jeans hit just above his ankle. He said the shoes pinched his toes but were doable.

  Marshall, on the other hand, was bare-foot and standing in his underwear. “If someone sees me before I can change, I’d rather get caught like this than wearing these.” He held up Michael’s slippers and light-blue hospital clothes. “I’d get locked up in the mental ward before I could come up with a good enough lie to explain myself.”

  “Thank you,” said Michael, and he clapped his hand on Marshall’s shoulder.

  “Hey,” I said. “Timothy Connor, do you know him?”

  “Yeah,” said Marshall, his face screwing up with concern. “He works with me.”

  “He’s, um, shot and unconscious in a bot closet on the sixteenth floor. When Michael and I are gone, will you make sure he gets found and gets the medical attention he needs?”

  “Damn.” Marshall shook his head. “Another added complication. Tim Connor’s a nice guy, but I can’t have him opening his trap about you or the presidents will know you’re still in this region. I’ll get him, and I’ll make sure it’s at least a week before he can say anything.”

  How Marshall would stop him from talking, I didn’t want to know. Obviously Tim wasn’t a member of the club.

  Marshall cracked the door and peered into the hall. “It’s clear. Let’s go.”

  He took the lead, Michael hobbling and placing his right palm against the wall for support when he could. “Cocky asshole,” he whispered to me when we rounded the next corner.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I agreed. “But what choice do we have?”

  “That’s the employee exit.” Marshall pointed to the far wall. “Once you’re outside, cut right to leave the compound. There aren’t as many obscuras on that side. But keep your heads down. Get to that mover and go.”

  “Thank you,” I said to Marshall reluctantly.

  “From now on, follow your orders and stick with the plan you’ve been given,” he said.

  Yeah, I thought, but not if it went against what I believed was the right thing to do.

  Michael and I cut across the hall to the employee door. With a soft whistle, minus the ding, the door slid open and a burst of fresh air entered, filling my lungs with the fragrance of blooming night jasmine. A soft breeze blew and the moon that hung above us was bright enough to outshine the glow of the sign that read “GenH3 Employees only.”

  Unlike the GenH where I was awakened, this compound’s grounds were green with neatly trimmed grass, its sidewalks edged with flowering bushes. In the distance, a gazebo with a distinctly Chinese-style roof was set next to a small pond, glittering under the moonlight next to a Chinese elm.

  Hooking right when the door closed behind us, we headed out from the compound. “Come on,” I whispered, caught in the euphoria of our escape. I broke into a jog but slowed when I heard Michael’s labored steps behind me. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just anxious.”

  He clapped his hand on my shoulder to steady himself, and I drew my arm around his waist. Walking side by side, we kept our heads lowered, and at the quickest pace possible without causing him too much pain, we headed back toward Subdivison Two.

  Avoiding obscuras also meant avoiding light
posts, and when a tree or cloud blocked the moon, we fumbled our way in the dark rather than drawing attention to ourselves by using the infinity light.

  “Do you remember how to get back?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said.

  A siren cut through the quiet of the night, and we stiffened to a halt.

  “That’s coming from GenH3. They know I’m gone. Damn knee!” he said. “Maybe you should just go without me.”

  “Are you kidding? Hell no. After what we just went through?” I said, pulling his arm over my shoulder and gripping him tightly at the waist. There was no way I was going to lose contact with him again. I needed him, and he needed me.

  We broke into a jog, Michael matching my pace, though he did so while gritting his teeth. Halfway through the park, the screech of the GenH3 siren was no longer audible from our distance, but soon it was replaced with SEC-bot sirens.

  “A team on foot will come next, and then…” he whispered when we reached the far edge of the park. “We’ve got to go now.”

  We made the dash, bounding behind a small home before another mover passed, its lights and sirens like cracks of lightning against the tiny, quiet neighborhood.

  “Just one more block,” I said between breaths.

  Michael was panting, too, and when we entered the light of the moon to bolt across the street, he wiped sweat from his forehead and grabbed his cramping thigh. The barrage of sirens ceased, and I speculated teams from Region Three Security expanded their searches to the hover depots and flyer ports, assuming we’d try to stow away.

  “There it is!” I pointed.

  The doors unlocked with the wave of my key, and although Michael’s left knee continued to ache, he took the driver’s seat.

  “Here, put this on,” I said and tossed him his arm band. He slid it under his shirt and up his sleeve.

  “And I have something for you,” he said. He dug into the pillowcase, pulling out two black baseball-style hats, plopping one on his head. “How do I look?”

  The bill was a little thicker than average and the back panel was longer than the sides, curving down to cover the back of the wearer’s neck. It was sleek and tailored to match a government-issued uniform, but other than that, it could pass for a twenty-first-century ball cap.