by Rebecca Rode
Twenty-Two
Legacy
Travers was right. By the time I awoke to voices floating up from downstairs, I felt much better. I could almost pretend that things would work out—that my dad would awaken soon, that my followers were safe, that Kole slept in his apartment across town, stubborn and healthy, and that our victory was certain.
Kole.
I hurried to his room, anxiety gripping my heart. But I halted just inside. It wasn’t Travers who sat at Kole’s bedside.
“Millian!” I shrieked and threw my arms around her. I hadn’t seen her awake yet.
“Hurt . . . ouchie . . .” she moaned.
I released her with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“You do that a lot.”
“Forget, or apologize?”
“Both,” she said with a wink. I stood there for an awkward second or two, relieved to see her so well after a night in the hospital. She moved more slowly now, as would be expected from a stunner bruise to the chest and a concussion. A few small scratches marred her deep-brown skin, and the corner of a white bandage peered over her neckline. But there was defiance in her dark eyes, and she’d taken the time to pull her hair up into a huge black bun on top of her head. A good sign.
“Stop gawking and pull up a chair,” she said. “I’m fine, and so are the lab assistants, minus the four who went into hero mode. The lab not so much, but we’ll deal with that. So, what did I miss? Kole felt left out and wanted some attention from his girlfriend for once?”
The gravity of Kole’s condition hit me again. I felt my smile fade as I plopped onto the floor by her feet. “Something like that.” Kole looked the same as before, slightly flushed and too still. I took his hand, grateful for the warmth of his fingers, however limp they were.
“I saw his file.” Millian shook her head. “I hate saying this, but he needs a solution we don’t have—right now, anyway.”
I knew it was true, but hearing Millian say it felt like a closing door. Millian, the eternal optimist, didn’t give up unless something was a lost cause. I swallowed hard and tried to change the subject. “Well, now we have no head physician, no lab, and none of your research on the others. We have to start all over again.”
Millian looked at me sheepishly. “Some of that isn’t exactly true.”
Wait. “Which part?”
“Pretty much the whole thing. I’ve already promoted one of the medics to head physician, and we’ve started putting together a new lab on the island. The hotel already had a small medical room, so that worked perfectly. But that isn’t what I came to tell you. Are you ready for this?” She leaned over to look me straight in the eyes. “I know how to heal the affected patients. Legacy, I know how to heal your dad.”
Millian told me all about it on the way to the island. We sat in the back seat, Millian supporting Kole’s legs while I cradled his head in my lap. He felt a little cooler now. I hoped that meant he would wake up soon. My head still whirled with the sudden surge of hope churning alongside my usual dread, and my body buzzed with adrenaline.
Dad would be okay. He really would. It felt like someone had just told me fairylands and unicorns existed.
“Okay, you’ve explained it to me twice, but I still don’t get it,” I told Millian. “Can you cut the science-y words and pretend I’m five, please?”
“Come on. Even five-year-olds would have picked it up by now.”
My heart pounded so hard it was entirely possible Millian was right. But I hadn’t allowed myself to hope in so long. It felt like my brain teetered at the edge of insanity and unconsciousness and Millian was the lone tether that rooted me to the ground. “Just try. Please?”
She seemed to understand. “Fine. It was Physician Redd who gave me the idea. He made a note in Kole’s file about needing his brain rewired or something, which is obviously impossible because the brain doesn’t have wires. It has neurons, and neurons are built to repair themselves unless something prevents that, as we discussed the other day. Then I remembered we do have wires, tiny ones in the implant chips. Yanking the entire chip out is a huge shock to the system and can send someone into cardiac arrest, but if you go into the chip itself and disconnect each wire, one by one, leaving the chip in place . . .”
“It’s permanently disabled,” I breathed. “You’re a genius.”
“I know. You totally owe me. The new head I just appointed is already prepping a few of the failing patients for surgery. It’s worked on one person so far, a councilman whose readings improved even before we closed him up. It may take some therapy to encourage healing, but if his scans continue to look good, I think we can wake him up in a few days.”
I didn’t bother to push down the thrill rising in my chest. I could have Dad back a couple of months from now. It didn’t change everything else that hung over me, but it made it a little lighter somehow. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I just wish that would help Kole. His case is so unique. It doesn’t help that he’s the only one Virgil tested his torture update on.”
Torture update.
Understanding slammed into my brain so hard I thought for a moment that the Firebrands had struck me with their cannon. I gasped.
“Whoa, what’s the matter? Legacy?”
I looked at Millian, but I didn’t really see her. All I saw was Kole a few months ago, groaning as if about to be crushed by an incredible weight, his veins bulging as his face turned a deep purple. No wonder Mom had been so horrified by her experiment, so guilty. No wonder she wanted to take that research out of Virgil’s hands. She knew what he could do with it.
With power like that, he could take out the world’s leaders and place himself in charge instead.
“Whoever controls the IM-NET controls the world,” he’d once told me.
It all made sense now. Since people no longer trusted their implants, Virgil needed something else to control people—a required device placed near the brain, seemingly harmless, where his updates could still take effect when he wanted them to. The people of NORA would never accept Alex’s mandated implants after what happened. They were too smart. But half the country supported Alex and the Rating system, which meant they would accept the number screen in their foreheads without question.
They wouldn’t know or even care that the two technologies came from the same source.
“Kole isn’t the first,” I finally said. “There’s someone else who’s been through this and survived. I learned about her from a janitor at Neuromen, and I think I may have found her among the Malrain last night. But the medicine she used is impossible to get.”
“Nothing is impossible. Hard, maybe.” She snorted. “I’m a dark girl from the Shadows, and I made it to Neuromen, so I know a thing or two about hard versus impossible.”
I looked at her in surprise. “I thought you grew up in the upper district.”
“Because I’m smart, right? And only rich people can be articulate and intelligent. I’ve heard it all before. If I have any success, it’s because of my parents, my family, my school. Not me.” She chuckled bitterly. “Nobody will ever know the truth about how my dad got hurt at work and they stopped paying him till he recovered. He couldn’t transfer or complain to anyone or he’d get demoted for good, so he left us. Nobody knew about my mom’s nightly visitors after that or how they started asking for my older sister too so we’d hide in my closet all night long, afraid to sleep. My sister said she wanted to run away, but she didn’t want to leave me alone with them and I refused to leave Mom, so she stayed. Nobody knows about the evenings Mom spent weeping in the pantry or the treats she left on my bed when I did well on exams. They both said I was the one who would save them, that my brain would pull us all out someday.”
“Oh, Millian.” I took her hand, stunned and horrified. How had I not known any of this?
She didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she turned toward the window. “And then my sister got sick and we couldn’t afford a medic, much less a hospital stay.
I was so excited when I got the invitation to Neuromen.” She paused, looking a little lost.
“And then it burned down,” I finished for her. I’d set that fire. Me, so determined to save the world I hadn’t thought much about the individuals in it. It hadn’t occurred to me that Millian’s helping me destroy Virgil’s plans would also destroy her own.
My friend shook herself back to the present, her voice firm once again. “She still isn’t doing well. Physician Redd was supposed to take a look when we got settled, but now . . .”
She didn’t have to say it. He was gone for good.
“You just remember one thing, Legacy Hawking,” she finally said, turning to face me, her voice fierce. You aren’t the only person with someone to lose.”
I felt sick. I’d never understood what went on in her life, and that wasn’t her fault. It was mine. Irrevocably, irretrievably mine. I threw my arms around her neck and pulled her close. “I am so sorry,” I whispered. In all my pain, I hadn’t been able to see hers. I’d overlooked Travers and made Kole worry and assumed Millian worked hard for her own ambitions when her stakes were far higher than I knew.
“You like to think you’re alone in this,” Millian said against my ear, “and you have to save the country by yourself. Do you realize how insulting that is? We’re all making sacrifices. Don’t throw ours away in pursuit of yours. I care about Kole, too, but his isn’t the only life at stake. This war is about all of us.”
Her words healed something in my soul. With a friend like Millian, I finally had a chance. Dad would be fine soon, we would help the comatose patients recover and return them to their families, and word about our success would spread. Once my supporters were all settled on the island, we could revisit the announcement about the Ratings idea and convince the country to side with me. After that, anyone supporting Alex would seem like a fool. One step at a time, we could actually do this. For the first time in weeks, I saw a real future for all of us.
“I have been a little ridiculous, haven’t I?” I asked sheepishly.
Millian grinned and pulled away, straightening in her harness. “That’s a good start, Your Honorable Legacy Hawking-ness. We may have hope for you yet.”
Twenty-Three
Kole
The disorientation of waking up lasted a full minute. I tossed the wool blanket aside and instantly felt a chill in the air. I swung my feet to the floor, taking in the strange details—a curved concrete ceiling, a cold floor with a drain in the center, and one dim lamp across the room. No windows. No watch on my wrist, either. Day or night? I couldn’t tell.
Muffled voices sounded through the wall. The door sat open a few inches, revealing a dark hallway. I stood up, steadying myself on the wall as my head spun, and peered out. Nobody in sight. This was no ordinary building. The island? If anything, we had to be underground.
The scurrying of rat feet followed me as I searched for the voices. They grew louder as I approached a closed door. One voice was distinctly Legacy’s.
I yanked the door open, and five sets of eyes turned to stare at me. Nearly every available inch of the small space was filled. Legacy sat in a chair against the far wall, Gram at her side, Travers next to the door, and some man and a redheaded woman next to Travers. They hadn’t even been given a seat. There wasn’t room. The redhead’s eyes drifted down to my bare feet.
I rested against the doorway. “Please continue.”
“Kole,” Legacy said, her beautiful eyes all lit up. She stood as if to run to me, then seemed to think better of it. “I’m glad you’re up.”
“We’re on the island,” I said matter-of-factly. I could smell the salty ocean in the air along with the cold, wet concrete surrounding us.
“Yes.” Legacy shifted her feet, looking uncomfortable—about the watching eyes of others or my presence here? “This section is an offshoot of the underwater tunnel. We found it gives us more privacy than the resort. How are you feeling?”
The dizziness and fog of confusion had begun to clear, making room for my memories to return. Then they returned all at once—a tidal wave of light and color. Counting floor tiles. Out of range. Plates crashing. A table on the ground. Legacy flinching as I yelled at her, wanting to hurt her like she’d hurt me, and the exhaustion and terror and emotion taking over. And behind it all, a massive headache that nearly blinded me.
I gasped.
Legacy took a few steps forward, fear in her eyes. “Maybe you’d better go lie down.”
The tidal wave dissipated, and I found myself standing in the doorway again, staring at five anxious faces.
I cleared my throat. “How long have I been out?”
Legacy continued to stare at me like I’d sprouted a tail.
“Two days,” Travers answered for her. “I’ll go find a medic.”
“No,” I said quickly. “That can wait until after the meeting. Don’t stop on my account.”
“Aren’t you that Firebrand?” the balding man said. It wasn’t accusing. More like annoyed.
I looked him dead in the eye. “Not anymore. You know what, Legacy? It’s a little stuffy in here. I’ll be your doorstop for a while.”
Gram coughed to hide a smile. Travers didn’t bother to hide his own.
“Okay,” Legacy said. She swept the room one more time as if trying to fit me in somewhere, then seemed to give up and found her seat again. “As I said, we’ll have to excuse Millian. She’s prepping the medical facilities for the procedure. She did request that the ventilation team make the operating room their priority. We need it sterile enough to begin the first surgery this afternoon. Councilman Barber, can you make that happen?”
“I don’t think—” the man began.
“Sure he can,” Gram interrupted. “Now, let’s get on to your biggest news. You mentioned the Rating system?”
Legacy’s eyes flicked to me, hovered for a second, then returned to the others. “I think I know what Virgil is planning to do. When he launched the last update and targeted most of our leaders and wealthier citizens, I told him he wouldn’t get away with it. Everyone would connect their loved ones’ illnesses to the update and distrust it from then on. He said he expected that and went on about NORA being an experiment and Virgil’s tech opening doors for him. I didn’t think much about it. Then the Firebrands began secretly implanting the homeless with Rating screens and triggering some kind of torture, the same thing Kole went through.” She paused. “I think Virgil knew we would eventually learn how to disconnect our implants. That’s where the Rating screens come in. He’s pushing Alex to implement them as a replacement for the brain implants.”
“So he can target his enemies again and place his people in power,” Gram said flatly.
“I think it’s even worse than that,” Legacy said. “Once NORA is under his control, he means to use our entire country as an experiment. He’ll work out any issues with the tech on our citizens, then offer it to other countries. Soon the rest of the world will embrace the Rating system and its dangerous tech right along with it. Because of Virgil, every country’s leaders will be able to torture their enemies or citizens into submission at the push of a button. He’ll be the richest man in the world.”
“Holy fates above,” the woman across the room whispered.
I pressed my lips together, knowing Legacy was right. As a Firebrand, I’d seen the Rating system as an inevitable shift of power—less control for the powerful, more for the powerless. At least, that’s what Dane had promised if we succeeded. Was that what he’d promised Dane to help him bring all this about? Had Virgil offered Dane and Alex a country in exchange for the world?
“That seems like a stretch,” Councilman Barber said, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile. “At best, this is a wild theory. You can’t possibly think the entire globe is at risk, Your Honor.”
Legacy and Travers exchanged a look. “I have reason to believe Virgil has already struck a bargain with Malrain,” she said.
Her little jaunt into enemy te
rritory with that Chadd guy. I struggled to hold back the low hum of anger that sprang to life inside me. Now wasn’t the time for that particular argument. As betrayed as I felt by Legacy’s choices, I wouldn’t undermine her authority here. She glanced at me again as the room settled into an uncomfortable silence and everyone contemplated what this meant for our little movement.
Her theory did sound a little far-fetched, or at least it would have if I didn’t know Virgil. But I did. Legacy and I knew better than most what the man was capable of, and I had to agree that Legacy had it exactly right. We’d been so busy fighting the immediate threat we hadn’t seen the real threat creeping up on us from a distance.
“I still don’t understand this torture thing,” the redhead—Councilwoman Marium?—said thoughtfully. “How does it work? Virgil pushes a button and his implant zaps people? But the Rating screens don’t work that way.”
“I can answer that.” Gram spoke with a glint of anger in her eyes. “In my day, the Rating system required two technologies—the implant screen in the forehead and the techband. When you tried to remove one, the other triggered punishment mode. It essentially electrocuted the victim. This sounds like a more chilling version of the same concept.”
Councilwoman Marium shivered. Everyone else looked worn down, defeated almost.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “It’s your brother Alex, the Firebrands, Virgil, and Malrain against the people in this room and the supporters above us. And everything hangs on whether the Rating system is implemented here in NORA. So we need to make sure everyone knows what Virgil plans to do with the Rating system, right? Then the citizens of NORA will rise up against it.”
“Yes and no,” Gram said. “The Rating system brings all the things you used to want, Firebrand. It’s simple—put a screen in your forehead and get medical care for your sick daughter you couldn’t afford before. Don’t put up a fight, and your financial situation immediately improves. Virgil is a smart man. Mark my words. He’ll offer the country a new system of government that addresses the citizens’ concerns and the Rating system as the means to deliver it.”
