Mindstormer

by AJ Steiger

  Burk’s lips tighten. “That’s quite a leap.”

  “Well, something is definitely happening,” Ian says. “Either way, we can’t afford to take his threat lightly.”

  “We’ll be prepared.” Burk stands. “There’s an emergency Assembly in twenty minutes. In the meantime, go back to your room. Take a shower.” He wrinkles his nose. “You could use one.”

  I sniff my shirt. “Well, we have been living in a cabin in the woods for the past few days,” I mutter. “There was no running water.”

  Burk stalks out, leaving Ian and I alone.

  I sigh. “He still doesn’t trust me.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He can complain all he wants, but he’s not the leader here. He doesn’t call the shots.”

  “So who is the leader?”

  “Dunno if we even have one. Rhee’s the closest thing, or at least, she seems to be the one whose orders everyone respects. She trusts you, and if it comes down to a conflict between her and Burk, people will side with her.” His gaze searches my face. “You okay?”

  “As well as can be expected, I guess.”

  Ian lays a warm hand against my back. At that simple, comforting gesture, my throat swells, and I nearly come undone. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “For what?”

  “For dragging you into this. All of this. If not for me, you’d probably still be home.”

  “The URA isn’t home,” he says. “Not anymore. This is where I want to be.” He gives me a tiny smile.

  With sudden, vivid intensity, I remember the kiss I shared with him in the forest outside the safe house. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and my fingertips stray to my face, brushing over my lips. Was that really just this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago now. God, this is all so confusing. I love Steven. I know that now. And yet what I felt for Ian in that moment is still so fresh and real in my head. “Ian… I…”

  “It’s all right. I understand.” He looks away. “I knew what would happen, if you took the Lucid. And I—I felt it, through the Gate. The way you feel about him, and how he feels about you. I don’t think I can compete with that.” He lowers his head. “I’m not going to stand between you.”

  I reach for words and come up blank. “I’m sorry,” I say again, not even sure what I’m apologizing for.

  “Don’t be.” His voice is gentle. “I’m happy for you. I really am.” Tears glint at the corners of his eyes, and he blinks them away. “Will you tell me one thing? If—if you’d never met Steven… if it was just you and me… do you think maybe you…”

  My heart gives a small lurch. In a vivid burst, I recall the softness of his lips on mine, the gentleness of his fingertips on my face. I open my mouth, but the word sticks in my throat, because I don’t know if speaking it will ease his pain or make it worse.

  “Never mind.” He gives me a strained smile. “You don’t have to answer that.”

  ‌

  34

  Back in my room, I take a quick shower, sluicing away the sweat of the past few days, then change into fresh clothes. It feels amazingly good to be clean again. Rhee’s voice emanates from the speakers, announcing the emergency Assembly.

  In the Hall, Blackcoats jostle each other, murmuring together in low, puzzled voices. I can’t get through the crowd, so I’m left hovering alone near the back of the crowd, standing on tiptoe to see over a forest of heads.

  The noise dies out as Rhee ascends the steps to the stage and faces the room, a tall, slender figure, bathed in a reddish spotlight. She adjusts the microphone on her collar. Her face is as stony and expressionless as ever. “As I’m sure you’re all aware by now, Dr. Swan is dead. He took his own life to avoid capture.”

  She gets right down to business. It’s such a contrast from Nicholas’ showier style.

  “Now,” Rhee continues, “his successor has been chosen. Earlier today, this appeared on the news.”

  She pushes a button on a remote, and the screen lights up, displaying a face I recognize. A cry leaps from my throat before I can stop it.

  “Good evening,” Aaron says in a firm, low voice. He’s wearing a white suit, and his hair is neatly combed and parted as he stares straight into the camera. There’s a slight glassiness to his green eyes, a pallor of exhaustion to his face. “My name is Aaron Freed. And as of today, with a heavy heart, I assume the position of Director.”

  My head spins. The last time I saw Aaron, he hardly seemed prepared to lead the most powerful organization in the URA. Does he even want this?

  “Three days ago,” he continues, “Dr. Swan was murdered by terrorists. These tragic circumstances have forced me to step forward. I realize that I’m young, but I’ve been working closely with Dr. Swan for some time now, and I will do my best to carry on his legacy. We will find and stop these terrorists, and we will use any tool at our disposal. The time for hesitation and moderation is over. We must take an unflinching stance against the violence and cruelty of those who would tear this land apart for the sake of their own selfish, radical ideology. I urge all of you, as citizens of the United Republic of America, to join me in making our country safe once again.”

  Those aren’t his words. It’s clearly Aaron on the screen, but his tone of voice, the cadence of his speech, everything is off. He’s either been heavily Conditioned or coerced into reciting this message. Still, the sight of him there, in Dr. Swan’s place, is powerfully unnerving.

  Aaron continues: “In issues of national security, there can be no gray area, no compromise. The time has come for action against those who would destroy our way of life.” There’s a pause. Then he leans forward, a strange, intent look in his eyes. When he speaks again, his tone has changed. “Remember.” His voice is low, urgent. “Remember what these people are capable of.”

  A moment’s disorientation sweeps over me. It feels, suddenly, like he’s speaking directly to me.

  “They will use every tool at their disposal,” he says with that quiet intensity. “Fear is their greatest weapon, because the ultimate battle isn’t physical—it’s psychological. The question is whether we will surrender, whether we will allow ourselves to be beaten down by those who seek to instill fear in our hearts. I’ve come to realize, in these past few days, that we cannot afford a peaceful solution. We have no alternative but to fight them.”

  He’s not talking about fighting the Blackcoats, I realize suddenly. He’s talking about IFEN, and he’s trusting me—us—to understand.

  “Very soon now, they will strike again,” he says. “Unless we stop them. Unless we take action first. It is our only hope. And so I say to you, now—stand up. Stand tall. Strike back. Do whatever is necessary.” The screen winks out.

  Silence hangs over the hall. Aaron is trying to warn me.

  Remember, he said. Remember what?

  “It occurred to me that no one has yet given Zebra a eulogy,” Rhee says, jerking me from my thoughts. “There hasn’t been time for a proper funeral. So I’ll say a few words on his behalf. I warn you, I’m not much good at making speeches.” She pauses. “Physically, Zebra was not a strong man. But he refused to be pitied, bullied, or broken. His mind and spirit were indomitable. He’s gone, and his death, as you all know, was very sudden. But I believe that as long as we carry his memory, he is with us. He will lend us his strength, and we will honor him by staying true to ourselves, by refusing to compromise our rights and our lives.” She presses a fist to her chest in salute and bows her head. The other Blackcoats do the same. I glimpse tears glinting in the eyes of a few listeners.

  Rhee raises her head. “And now, more than ever, we will need that strength. Zebra often spoke of the importance of readying ourselves for war. It seems that war has come to us. We’ve received intelligence that IFEN is poised to attack us within the next twenty-four hours. We don’t know what form this attack will take. But we can be sure that they’ll try everything in their power to wipe us out.”

  A hush hangs over the room. The listeners stare, stunned, soaking
up the message.

  “We all knew that this day would arrive,” she continues. “This may not be how we expected it to happen, but there’s no cause for fear. This is what we’ve been training for and preparing for all this time. When they come, we will be ready.”

  The Blackcoats around me are drying their tears, straightening their shoulders, expressions turning grim and determined.

  I try to ignore the tightening in my gut. Aaron’s words fill my head: Remember what these people are capable of.

  “We’ve already developed a plan,” Rhee says. “There’s only one entrance to the Citadel, and that’s the main doors. We’ll fill the room with traps and explosives. If IFEN tries to invade, the traps will take out a significant number of their soldiers.”

  IFEN will probably be anticipating something like that. And who’s to say they’ll even send soldiers through the main doors? They could just as easily attack us by flooding the Citadel with neurotoxins. Or sending in mini-drones and detonating them remotely. It occurs to me, as well, that they could simply starve us out. Zebra controlled everything. Now that he’s dead, where will we get our food and water?

  Of course, Rhee is already aware of all this. She must be. But she’s trying to hide how dire our situation is, to avoid causing panic—trying to convince everyone we have a chance of winning.

  “Yes, our enemy is strong,” Rhee continues. “But we have always been prepared to die defending our cause, to keep fighting for our freedom, no matter the cost.” Her face remains composed and still, but her eyes shine with a cool, intense fire. “Freedom is a contract signed in blood. It’s the pact we’ve made with each other, the oath we swore when we joined the cause. And we will not forsake that oath.” She raises her rifle into the air. The Blackcoats raise their fists in answer.

  I bite my knuckle, hard enough to draw blood. I don’t want to believe that it’s hopeless. But when I look at the rifle-carrying teenaged soldiers around me and imagine them up against the technological and political might of IFEN, I feel sick.

  This won’t be a battle. It will be a slaughter.

  *

  Rhee announces a special training session in the simulation room to go over battle strategies, then ends the Assembly. I don’t plan to attend the training session.

  As the Blackcoats filter out of the room, I scan the dispersing crowd for Steven, but still, I don’t see him. Did he miss the Assembly? That’s unlike him. I make my way back to the dorm wing and knock on his door. “Steven? It’s me.”

  After a few seconds, the door slides open. It whisks shut behind me after I enter. Steven’s sitting on the edge of the bed, expression blank, and I’m struck suddenly by how young he looks. His fingers clutch the edge of the mattress, and his narrow shoulders are hunched, as if braced against a coming blow. Slowly, I approach and sit next to him. He doesn’t look at me. His face has lost all color, save for the dark circles around his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  He stares straight ahead, his gaze unfocused. “I shouldn’t have brought you back here.” His voice seems to be coming from far away. “This place isn’t safe.”

  “I don’t think we’d be any safer outside.”

  Steven crosses his arms over his chest, gripping his biceps. His breathing sounds strange. I shift on the bed, uneasy. “I think we should talk,” I say.

  “About what?”

  “About what happened with Nicholas.”

  Still, he doesn’t look at me. “There’s nothing to talk about. He was a traitor. Now he’s dead.”

  “This is the first time you’ve killed a human being,” I say. “Even if he was a horrible person, it’s completely understandable to feel something.”

  He raises one hand, stares at it, and slowly curls the fingers into a fist. “That’s the funny thing. I don’t. I’m not angry, I’m not sad, I’m not guilty, I’m not happy about it. I’m not even relieved. It’s like—” He knocks the fist against his chest. “Wake up in there. You know?”

  I examine the glassy, unfocused sheen on his eyes, and a chill trickles down my spine. “I think you’re in a disassociated state. You’ve detached yourself from your emotions.”

  “Yeah?” A smile ticks at the corners of his lips, as if the thought amuses him.

  “Numbing yourself might help you function, for now, but it’s dangerous in the long run.”

  “Believe me, I know all about that. I used to numb myself all the time. Remember those little white pills?” He lets out a flat, humorless chuckle. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not okay, Steven.”

  He snorts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Doc. Really helps bolster my already wonderful self-esteem.”

  “Hiding behind sarcasm doesn’t help.”

  “Sarcasm’s my default setting. Also, in case you forgot, we’ve got one day before the shit hits the fan. Everyone in the Citadel is in danger. Shouldn’t we be talking about that instead of dissecting my feelings?”

  “Don’t you dare start pushing me away again,” I say, sharper than I intend to. “We’ve been through too much.”

  He tenses. For an instant, something flickers in his expression, then his gaze jerks away.

  I soften my tone. “Please.”

  His lips tremble, a movement so slight it’s almost imperceptible. Then he presses them together into a hard line. “I’m not pushing you away, Lain. I just—I can’t afford to get bogged down in all my mental crap. If I do, I won’t be able to move. Later, after we deal with this situation, we’ll talk about this. Not now.”

  What I’m afraid to say aloud is that there might not be an after. I bite my lower lip.

  “Did Rhee say anything about a battle plan?” he asks.

  “She said there’d be a training session right after the Assembly.”

  He stands. “Then I’m going.”

  “Do you honestly think we have a chance?” I blurt out.

  His back stiffens.

  “You know the Blackcoats can’t win against the URA’s military. This is mass suicide. We need to be making plans to evacuate, to escape before they—”

  He faces me. “Evacuate to where? The Underground? How long do you think we’d survive? You just said it yourself—it’s no safer outside. We’ve got to fight. It’s the only option we have.” He stops, dragging in a heavy breath. “No matter what happens, I will protect you. I swear.”

  Before I can say another word, he turns sharply and walks out. The door slides shut behind him with a metallic whish, like a guillotine.

  “Damn it,” I whisper. I follow him out of the room, but he’s already disappeared. I slump against the nearest wall and press my forehead to the cool metal.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Steven and I have finally been reunited, even after all Dr. Swan’s efforts to rip him out of my mind. We’re supposed to be together now. Everything is supposed to be all right. Instead, he’s getting ready to die in a hopeless battle.

  The death-frozen faces of Brian and Joy flash through my head, and my pulse speeds again. No. I won’t watch anyone else die. There has to be a way out of this. I shut my eyes, focusing my thoughts, gathering all the available data and laying it out in my head like an array of spreadsheets.

  Still, there’s that maddening foggy spot in my memories. If I concentrate, I can see flickers and fragments of something within, but I can’t make sense of it. It’s like sifting through a handful of puzzle pieces, trying to figure out what kind of picture they’d make if I had them all.

  Something sparks, and I straighten, heart pounding. Paradise lost. Zebra’s last words, whispered to me through the neural link. The title of an epic poem. He has that book in his study. It must mean something. Maybe it’s connected to his plan. Maybe this is the thing that will save us.

  I start walking quickly toward Zebra’s study. Then I round the corner and nearly run into Burk.

  He smiles, a hard, unpleasant expression. “There you are.” He grabs my arm and marches me down the
hall, like a parent dragging his disobedient child to her punishment.

  I struggle, but his grip is iron. “What is this?”

  “Maybe Rhee has foolishly decided to trust you, but I don’t. I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.” He opens a door, revealing an empty, closet-sized room with plain metal walls, and throws me in. The door slams shut, sealing me in darkness. In an instant, I realize where I am—the timeout room.

  “Burk!” I pound my fists against the door. “Let me out!”

  A slot in the door opens, and he peers in. “You’re going to stay in there, where you can’t cause any trouble,” he says.

  “How long?” I ask, frantic.

  “Until I decide to let you out. Nothing personal, but we can’t afford to take risks.”

  No, no, no. He can’t do this to me, not now. “Wait! You don’t understand! I have to go to Zebra’s study. He left me a clue. It’s some kind of code, and I need to figure it out before IFEN attacks us.” The words spill out of me in a rush.

  He snorts.

  “I swear, I’m telling the truth.”

  “I very much doubt that,” he says. “I’ll send someone to bring you your dinner later. Oh, and don’t bother screaming. The walls are soundproof.” The slot closes. Darkness and silence engulf me.

  I keep shouting his name, pounding my fists against the door until they ache, but of course, there’s no response. My legs crumble beneath me, and I sit, leaning back against the door, exhausted. I shut my eyes and press the heels of my hands against my lids.

  The Citadel is about to be attacked, and there’s nothing I can do. I’m stuck in here, helpless. Sooner or later, someone will notice I’m missing and come looking for me. But by then, it might be too late.