by Kit Rocha
“Got it.” Lucas tucked the data stick into his pocket and stepped aside to let Jaden pass. Jaden gathered Nina and Knox with a tilt of his head and led them away from the gazebo and around the back of the largest warehouse.
The well-worn path ran a few hundred yards through a field of wildflowers to the top of a small hill. At the end was a two-story log building that looked like someone’s rustic getaway cottage tucked between a few massive pine trees.
Knox tilted his head back, studying the tallest tree—and the way the sun reflected off something metallic high in its branches.
A radio tower.
Knox whistled softly. “How far can you broadcast with that?”
“Far enough.” Jaden flipped open a wooden box near the entrance and pressed his hand to a biometric scanner. The lock popped, and he hauled open the door. “It’s not about distance so much as coverage.”
“Multiple towers, you mean.” Nina studied the tower. It was well-camouflaged—expertly, even—but that didn’t mean jack shit when you were sitting in the TechCorps’ backyard. “They monitor your communications. They must. There’s no way they would just let you … have this.”
“Oh, someone records every goddamn thing we say.” Jaden gestured to the open doorway in silent invitation. “Why do you think they haven’t firebombed my market yet? Gotta keep me complacent so I’ll keep transmitting.”
Inside the cabin was a mess of tech. Tables lined one wall, covered in boxes with dozens of dials, displays in a half dozen different colors, and display monitors every few feet. A tanned young woman with blond hair in a high ponytail sat in a chair in front of one of them, a headset around her neck and her feet propped up on the desk. One of Maya’s favorite dramas played on the largest monitor, showing a group of astronauts fighting to contain some crisis on Mars.
As soon as Jaden stepped through the door, the girl bolted upright and paused her show. “Delta team just radioed in. They made the pickup okay and are on their way back.”
“Good.” Jaden crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the table. “Laura, I need you to put out a roll call to everyone in the field. Looking for any of those genetics companies either on the move with kids or setting up shop.”
The blonde hesitated, glancing at Nina and Knox. Jaden waved a hand. “They’re fine. Show Nina how we put all the TechCorps’ little snoopers straight the fuck to sleep.”
“Got it.”
She unplugged her headset from the speaker and pulled the microphone toward her. “CQ, CQ, Alpha Romeo Tango calling CQ. Alpha Romeo Tango. Listening.”
After two more repetitions, static crackled through the speaker. “Alpha Romeo Tango, I hear you. This is Bravo Whiskey Victor. Go ahead.”
“We’ve got a nine-one-one request from a neighboring farm. Looking for kale seeds. Gotta get them in the ground before the first frost. Over.”
So that was his game, hiding potentially valuable intelligence by using the most boring, commonplace-sounding code they could muster. Nina had to admire the simple elegance of it. Still, the fact that the situation was common enough to warrant an established code made her sick to her stomach. She nudged Knox, who tilted his head, his brow furrowing.
After a moment, the radio crackled. “Sorry, no love here. Try Echo Foxtrot Sierra?”
A new voice popped up, higher pitched with a deep Southern twang. “Echo Foxtrot Sierra here. No kale seeds, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
“Understood,” Laura said into the microphone. “Delta Charlie Lima, do you copy? Alpha Romeo Tango calling Delta Charlie Lima.”
This time a booming baritone with an even more extreme drawl answered. “Delta Charlie Lima, checking in. No kale. I repeat, no sign of kale. Want us to check with the neighbors?”
“Please. The planting window is closing. Thanks, y’all. Hope the harvest is going well.”
Perfectly mundane reports about corn and apples followed until Laura cut off the flow by plugging her headset back in and slipping it over her ears.
Jaden’s face was serious. “Some shit we just don’t fuck around about,” he said softly. “I have a deal with Savitri. I find them, she shuts them down.”
Nina glanced at Knox, who met her gaze and nodded once. “We want in.”
“Silent communication already?” Dakota said from behind them. “That’s fucking adorable. I love both of you.”
Jaden grunted and opened his mouth. “I should—”
“Uh-uh.” She cut him off with a grin and a shrug. “Duty calls. You have to get back to work.”
He snapped his mouth shut, then sighed. “She’s right. Lucas will work up the details into our more complex code and get it on the network tonight. My contacts stretch from the Mississippi to the Atlantic, and from the Gulf to the Heartlands. We will find them, eventually.”
Nina wanted to argue. Those kids might be anywhere by then, passed around to the highest bidders for Christ knew what purposes. They might not have eventually.
But Jaden knew that. This was the hard reality of the situation: as much as they wanted it, as hard as they tried, they might not succeed.
Nina clenched her eyes shut, and Knox wrapped an arm around her shoulder. His lips found her temple. Soft, barely there … but a promise.
“I’ll get in touch when we have news,” Dakota murmured. “Until then…”
Until then, they just had to wait.
TECHCORPS PROPRIETARY DATA, L2 SECURITY CLEARANCE
Of course DC-035 has my permission to attend advanced cryptography classes. Do you think I have time to take them myself?
Internal Memo, September 2077
FOURTEEN
Montgomery Market Day was Maya’s favorite Atlanta ritual.
It was the opposite of Convergence in almost every way. Instead of being buried deep underground, the market sprawled across a wide dirt expanse framed on the north and south by warehouses with their huge bay doors flung open and on the east and west by an apple and peach orchard, respectively. The open air dispersed the noise of the chattering crowd, and instead of industrial tech and flashing lights, the aesthetic was rustic farm chic and bright afternoon sunlight.
Sometimes the wind even shifted enough to carry the scent of honest-to-God manure, which was a bit too much farming realism for Maya’s personal tastes, but she supposed nothing was perfect.
The jumble of tables and stands held everything from fresh produce to gray-market goods to pre-Flare antiques. She’d made some of her favorite finds browsing dusty stacks of books pillaged from someone’s great-great-grandmother’s library. And there was usually a ton of broken or ill-repaired tech that just needed a little love. Most of the loaner tablets she sent home with families had come from stacks of electronics on her favorite scavenger’s table.
Today, she had a more immediate mission. With Rainbow’s tiny hand clasped in hers, she navigated the stalls until she found one that looked promising. Racks of bright and cheerful clothes in children’s sizes fanned out from the main table, which held a chaotic jumble of tiny folded T-shirts, scuffed but decent footwear, and a wealth of tacky but sparkly jewelry that would delight any kid.
Well, maybe not any kid. But hopefully this kid.
Ivonne’s best efforts at coaxing Rainbow into a shopping spree had resulted in two pairs of practical black pants, two gray T-shirts, and a pair of boots. She’d dug in her heels as if suspecting a trap—or more likely a test she might fail—and Ivonne hadn’t pushed.
Maya wasn’t going to push, either. But she could … reframe. Crouching down next to Rainbow, she met the girl’s serious gaze. “You said you studied tactics, right?”
A solemn nod.
“What about infiltration? Going undercover?”
“A little bit.” Rainbow’s gaze skipped from Maya’s face to survey the booth briefly, then swung back. “Am I not dressed right?”
“You’re dressed fine,” Maya reassured her. “There’s no right or wrong. If that’s what you want to wear, yo
u can wear it. But when I came down off the Hill, the first thing I did was buy new clothes. Because people dress different down here, and I didn’t want them noticing me. Plus?” She leaned closer and lowered her voice, like she was sharing a forbidden secret. “I found out I really like pretty colors.”
Rainbow studied Maya’s outfit. Today she’d dressed for the heat, in a pair of cutoff denim shorts, her favorite boots with their neon-blue laces, and a matching bright-blue tank top. She’d accessorized with a wrist full of silver bangles, a blue stone wrapped in wire for a necklace, and her favorite pair of facial-recognition-algorithm-busting sunglasses, which were currently propped on top of her head.
Not exactly full club glam, but a far cry from the business professional that had been her default as a data courier on the Hill.
Rainbow’s attention drifted back to the table of brightly colored clothing. The yearning was there now, subtle but visible. When she spoke, it was a whisper. “I don’t have any money.”
And presents always came with strings. Lord, did Maya know the truth of that. “How about we barter? You can help me in the warehouse some this week, unpacking boxes and putting the books on the scanner. And I’ll buy you any five outfits you want today.”
A tilt of the head. “Anything I want?”
“Sky’s the limit, kiddo.”
After another moment, Rainbow thrust out her hand. Maya shook it with due ceremony, and that was it. Her too-mature seriousness broke, and Rainbow almost vibrated in excitement as she bounded over to the stand.
“Oooh, kid shopping.” Rafe stopped next to Maya, a fond smile curving his lips. “I used to take my little sister shopping. I would beg Tessa to buy some nice jeans or fancy boots or something…”
“But she always wanted art supplies,” Dani finished.
Rafe’s eyebrows went up. “So you do listen to me sometimes.”
She stuck a melting, red Popsicle in her mouth and shrugged, then waved a second plastic-wrapped frozen treat. “I got one for Rainbow, too.”
“Well, you better go give it to her,” Rafe drawled.
Dani rolled her eyes and stalked away. Maya bit her lip, struggling to hold in a laugh. Her fight was doomed when Rafe shot her a mournful look. Giggles escaped, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.
“I’m wounded, Maya.”
“Sorry.” She scrunched up her nose at him. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen Dani work this hard to ignore anyone. Usually it comes naturally to her.”
“Actually, that does make me feel better.” He flicked his fingers at her in a shooing motion. “Go. I know you wanted to check out the tech tables. Uncle Rafe and Aunt Dani are all over this.”
Maya glanced at Rainbow, who was happily accepting the Popsicle from Dani. God knew the two of them could defend her against any improbable threats more efficiently than anyone else on the planet. “Fine. But I’m expecting you to make sure she gets something to wear before Dani takes her off for rappelling gear or her first throwing knife set or whatever.”
Rafe saluted her with a wink and moved toward Rainbow and Dani. That left Maya to turn on her heel and yelp when she almost slammed into Gray. “Shit, you’re quiet.”
He steadied her with a hand on her elbow. “Occupational hazard. Where are you off to?”
She was going to have to start wearing shirts with sleeves, and fuck the heat. The brush of his fingertips raised goose bumps on her arm. She covered it with a torrent of distracting words. “There’s a few vendors who move broken tech. I usually pick up what I know I can fix so we can lend it out to people. And I always check out the books. Sometimes I find some gems.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“Of course. I mean not.” She barely avoided a cringe. God, having a crush was agonizing. No wonder Dani was ignoring Rafe so diligently. It seemed like the only sane survival move. “I mean I don’t mind. I’d like the company.”
If Gray noticed her awkwardness, he didn’t let on. He just fell into step beside her—close, but not too close—as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And suddenly it did feel natural. The nervous flutters in her chest eased as she led him across the open lot, toward the southern warehouse. He’d shortened his strides to match hers, and that tangible force field was still active, even when he wasn’t trying. They sliced through a crowd that seemed to part before them like magic.
She could definitely get used to that.
It felt so natural, she said the same thing to him that she would have to Nina. “So. Dani and Rafe.”
He made a low noise that sounded suspiciously like exasperation and amusement tinged with dread. “I know. I know.”
“He knows he’s playing with fire, right?”
Gray shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Usually, I’d say that’s the point. Rafe likes living dangerously, and he skates through most things okay.”
Most things weren’t Dani. Maya had watched a string of men with egos far larger than Rafe’s break their self-confidence and occasionally their hearts against the brick wall of Dani’s disinterest. “I hope so. Weaponized biceps aside, I’m kinda fond of him.”
She felt Gray’s gaze on her, but when she glanced his way, he looked away. “What about her?” he asked softly. “Aren’t you worried about Dani’s heart?”
“Not usually,” she replied just as quietly. “Not many people get close enough to break it. Rafe might be the first one.”
“Hey.” Gray came to a stop, pulling her to a halt with him. “Why are we so down, huh? Who knows what’s going to happen?”
The look in his eyes lodged in her chest, and she knew they weren’t talking about Rafe and Dani anymore. Maybe they never had been. The tension between them tightened another notch, until she wasn’t sure she could draw a full breath.
She’d thought her nerves would settle. That this wanting would mellow enough that she could kiss Gray and it wouldn’t be a big deal. But every day only deepened her craving and heightened the sweet agony of anticipation.
There was no safe way to do this. No way to protect her mind or her heart. And Gray didn’t have time for her to work up her courage. Either he was worth the risk, or he wasn’t.
She had to choose. Soon.
Swallowing hard, she curled her fingers around his, ignoring the tiny frisson of electricity that jolted up her spine. She made her voice cheerful, casual, as if she hadn’t just stepped off her safe ship and onto a plank stretched out over a dangerous ocean. “Have I told you my theory about you?”
“No.” His fingers closed around hers, warm and careful. “It’s not anything like your old boss’s theory, is it?”
Birgitte had been convinced that Gray was some sort of stone-cold killer. That his rigid self-control and emotional reticence masked some sort of psychosis—or, at the very least, deep instability.
She’d turned out to be wrong about plenty of things, but in nothing more so than her assessment of Gray. He so obviously cared about people. Every slow, deliberate movement practically screamed it. “Nah, Birgitte had baggage. You’re not a crazy serial killer. You are clearly a Gothic hero in desperate need of a castle or some misty moors to perfect your tortured brooding.”
He smiled. No, he grinned, a wide, amused expression so generous it might as well have been a laugh. “You watch too many old movies.”
“Someone’s got to categorize them,” she retorted, tugging at his hand to get him moving again. “But let me warn you now. If you’ve got any wives or anything locked in an attic somewhere, I am definitely rescuing them.”
“I don’t have any family, remember?”
The words sounded easy, but his fingers tightened around hers. When she glanced up at him, there was a tension around his eyes. A forced casualness to his expression. She gripped his hand harder. “Of course you do. Knox, Conall, Rafe. Mace, too. They’re your family in every way that counts.”
“You’re right.” He stopped again, this time by a booth laden with
seedlings. He thumbed idly through the paper envelopes of seeds in a lopsided spinning rack, but his gaze was on her face. “How did you meet Nina?”
The skin on her wrists itched, her clearest warning sign that memories were trying to surface. She locked them down ruthlessly and drew in a deep breath. The air smelled fresh, with hay and spices and the tart smell of apple cider drifting from a nearby booth.
It steadied her enough to get the words out. “Birgitte had a contingency plan, I guess. If something happened to her, one of her coconspirators was supposed to smuggle me out of the TechCorps. They hired Nina to hide me for a few weeks. She was the one who came up with the idea of faking my death.”
He chuckled.
Maya felt her lips twitch. Humor chased away the rest of the ghosts. “Yeah, it’s a bad habit she has. Rescuing people, faking their deaths, taking them in, and convincing them to help her build community resources. Real dastardly criminal shit.”
“It’s not that, it’s just … secrets.” He seemed to be searching for the right words. “Nina’s had to hide the fact that she’d rather save someone’s life than claim a two-million-credit bounty. And every time Knox saved a handful of lives on a mission, he had to act like it was just the most expedient way to get the job done.” He sighed. “Not everything about ourselves that we hide from the world is ugly. Sometimes it just makes us too vulnerable.”
She knew the truth of that in her bones. Her memory held a litany of plausibly deniable heroics, every tiny victory of Birgitte’s quiet revolution. Compassion was the ultimate weakness according to the TechCorps. The enemy of progress and pure scientific advancement.
That was a lie, of course. In the years Maya had lived on the outside, she’d seen that compassion might actually be the ultimate driver of innovation. Rogue scientists solved problems every day, and they did it with a fraction of the TechCorps’ massive resources. Not out of some sterile intellectual curiosity or selfish need for glory.
They did it because they cared.
