by Tash McAdam
She looks around, trying to put the thought from her mind. The station itself isn’t especially beautiful, but the squeaky-clean nature and organized chaos are interesting. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen this many people in one place, yet everything is still fairly quiet. A low hum of conversation fills the air, punctuated by beeping sounds from various pieces of technology. And that’s it.
Soon they find themselves at the exit. They climb a steep flight of stairs and head out onto the platform, where grey concrete stretches several hundred metres in each direction.
The tube, it seems, is aptly named. Serena feels like she’s in some giant display unit. She’s seen the tube from outside, but this is ridiculous. In front of her is the Wall. A hundred metres above her head is the transparent aluminum shield that protects the City’s open spaces from the sun. The tube punches a hole in the Wall and then curves out toward the mountains, which she can just make out, hazy in the distance. A glowing barrier sits around the tracks on the way, divided into hexagons, and delineated by what looks like flashing strips of lightning. Anything thrown or shot at the tube will be instantly vaporized when it makes contact with that barrier.
It keeps the tube safe, but she shudders, remembering the blackened ruin of her friend Tian’s wrist. Chased by Institute soldiers, she’d stumbled against the barrier and lost her whole hand for her trouble. Somehow she’d managed to get away, and make it to a safe house. Permanently crippled, but at least she was still alive, and out of the Institute’s clutches. Psionic power has no effect on the barrier itself – you have to take out the source that projects it outwards, so Tian couldn’t catch herself. Which means that Serena is in just as much danger as a normal person from that barrier. It isn’t a feeling she’s used to.
She shivers in a sudden wash of air, and realizes that the train is coming. The platform doesn’t even shake when the huge vehicle shoots out of the Wall like a bullet from a gun and stops smoothly in front of them, the cone-shaped nose disappearing into a dark hole past the steps they used. Serena resists the urge to fidget impatiently as the passengers from Second City alight on the other side of the platform, and then the doors in front of them whoosh open in a gust of warmth.
People get on in an orderly fashion; they obediently wait their turn and then step aboard. Serena stifles a snort; it is so much ... neater than anything that happens outside. The inside of the carriage, however, is nothing special: plastic seats arranged in twos, and bag storage. Every table is a charge surface for your datapad, she notes admiringly. Not cheap. Citizens can’t be expected to travel without a fully charged computer, though; that would be shocking! Google – the now defunct God of technology that for some reason still forms a pervasive part of modern vocabulary – forbid they have to detach from the net for as much as a second! They might miss something important.
Grinning at her own joke, she swings her bag up onto the storage rack and takes a seat, short legs fitting easily under the table. Abial has a bit more trouble, and swears under her breath as she bangs her knee. Serena cocks an eyebrow at her warningly. Polite citizens don’t swear, and if they do, they definitely don’t use the expletive Abial just did. Fortunately, she said it quietly, and no one is paying any particular attention to them. People are just settling in, getting out their datapads and snacks. Some of them are already pressing their fingers and thumbs against each other in precise combinations, using the manner of typing – through press-on microchips attached to the pads of their fingers – that’s so common these days. They’re obviously unwilling to take even a moment away from whatever they’re doing.
Serena settles in as well. It’s important that they look like they’re used to this, rather than drawing attention to themselves. The mission briefing prepared them for getting through security and onto the tube, but hadn’t told them what to do after that. This part is up to them. As the train pulls out of the station, the landscape zooming past at frightening speed, she pastes a disinterested look on her face and gazes out the window, instead of looking around eagerly like she wishes she could. Abial sets up her datapad and starts typing something. Hopefully they look like nothing more than bored students. Once they get to the other station, it’s just one more set of security, and then they’ll meet Kion’s contact.
If they’re lucky he’ll have something figured out in the way of a place for them to hole up; some reconnaissance is definitely needed before they jump in. Powerful as they both are, there’s no way the two of them can take on a squad of Institute soldiers on their own; they’d get beaten to paste. They need to figure out what’s happening, and come up with a plan to counter the Institute. There’s a lot of equipment that would make their jobs easier as well, and if Kion’s guy can’t get it, they’re going to have to rob a Watch station first.
She frowns a little. They’ve done mock exercises for hitting up a Watch station. Watch soldiers aren’t gifted – that’s reserved for the special forces of the Institute – but they’re still well trained and armed. It won’t be easy, if they have to do it. Still, there’s nothing to gain from going back over the four methods she knows for a station hit until she checks out the situation in Second City. For now, she just needs to blend in and pass the time.
She glances around the cabin slowly, keeping the bored expression on her face. Two tables down, a unit of soldiers in tall boots and well-fitted uniforms decorated with badges and ribbons are playing some sort of card game. There are eight of them, and Serena makes a game of secretly observing them in the reflection from the window. They’re all young, fit, and strong – five men and three women, all sturdy and athletic looking. She’s counting their zapguns when a pair of eyes catches hers. The handsome soldier from the queue smirks at her with a dangerous dimple, and blows her a kiss.
She frowns, and nearly turns away, when suddenly his face clicks into place and she realises who it is. Gav Belias himself! Her mouth slackens slightly in shock, as his friends snerk and jostle him. Obviously they think she’s checking them out in a girly way, not a soldiery way. Good. They won’t see her as a threat if they think she’s interested in him that way. How arrogant, to assume she’s looking at him for any reason except to assess a threat. He’s pretty, but not that pretty.
She arranges her face back into a look of boredom without difficulty, raises an eyebrow at him, and returns her attention to the fascinating view rushing past. Jue is gonna wet herself when she finds out I was on the same train as him, though. She has to force herself to focus on the outside world instead of glancing back to his reflection in the glass. Unimpressed as she’d like to be, he’s still a bona fide celebrity, and she wishes it wasn’t so tempting to look again, just for a moment. Resolutely, she peers through the transparent aluminum.
The tube is suspended over the townships, now. Peasant children have clambered up the supports and are gawping at the vehicle as it streams past, though they can’t get too close, because of the vaporizing barrier. That barrier is an endless source of entertainment for the kids, who love to throw things at it and dare each other to get close, but its real purpose is beyond their understanding. The tube is the artery of the government. Sever it and cities would be alone, cut off. And with no imports and exports going in and out, life would change dramatically. Google knows how long it took to erect, but the entire country would be lost without it. It was no wonder they protected it the way they did.
And protect it they must. Serena knows that if the slumdwellers aren’t kept passive by the Institute – pushed down mentally, with any resistance crushed – they would try to overpower the Watch and sever the tube in order to cut off military backup arriving from the other Cities. This is just one of the reasons any hint of rebellion is terminated immediately, with extreme prejudice.
This is why ARC exists.
As she watches, they pass over the edge of the townships, the shacks here not even close to being buildings; just shelters built with whatever people can find. Broken pieces of transal lean against walls made from foo
d packaging and ancient metal poles. This is all the people have available to them, dug up from dumps and scrounged from the City’s trash heaps. All the government will let them have, and the Institute finds anyone who thinks they are entitled to more. Finds them, and removes them from the equation.
Suddenly they’re speeding up, and she can hardly make out the different shanties anymore. It’s just a blur as they head for the mountains.
The land beyond the slums turns swiftly to desert; aching miles of arid land, stretching as far as the eye can follow. It gives her a headache, so she closes her eyes, pretending to sleep, but really just daydreaming about a successful mission. If she fails, there’s the ever-present risk of death or capture. But what preys on her mind more than that is the idea that if she messes this mission up, there’s no way that her father will let her go after Damon. And if she can’t go after Damon, she doesn’t know if anyone ever will.
When she feels the transport slowing, she opens her eyes and glances at the digital timepiece on the wall. Barely an hour has passed; Google, that’s a fast journey. People start scuffling, standing and grabbing their bags. The soldiers are already up and waiting by the door. Abial shuts down her datapad and grins at Serena.
“Alright, Gabrielle, let’s go and meet our ride.”
“Sure thing, Laura. We’re supposed to go to the East exit, I think.”
As they wait in line to disembark, she deliberately keeps her gaze away from the soldiers, busying herself with the datapad balanced in her hand. She doesn’t want them to pay too much attention to her, just in case they come across each other again. It’s obvious that these troops are being sent over to back up the local Watch presence; Gav Belias isn’t just renowned for his good looks, he’s also a talented tactician and brilliant fighter, according to the ARC files on him. He’ll be wanted wherever the action is.
She’ll have to look his files up again to make sure she’s prepared if she has to fight him, but for now she wants him to remember her as nothing more than a star-struck girl. If he’s as good as they say he is, he won’t be easily fooled, and there are many things that could give her or Abial away as more than they seem. Fortunately, there are several people between them, and he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to her.
For now, it seems, they’re safe.
THERE’S A MAJOR military presence in the Second City station, but citizens from the tube are just rushed through a body scanner that no one is really paying attention to, and released toward their pick-up points. It’s all too obvious that the soldiers are worried about someone leaving, not someone arriving.
Super, that bodes well for our exit, she thinks sarcastically. Their leaving strategy is flimsy at best, and clearly getting through security in the other direction is going to be nigh impossible if it remains this tight.
Not knowing what or who the Institute is reacting to, they’ve been incapable of making a solid plan of any kind, let alone come up with specific exit strategies. They don’t even know what they’re hunting, yet. If it’s an item that won’t make it through the scanners, they could drop it off with Kion’s mysterious friend. If it’s a person ... well ... it depends if they get to them in time. The chances of them pulling off a two-man rescue effort aren’t high. But you learn to be adaptable at ARC, and if they need to put together a plan on the fly, that’s what they’ll do.
Worst case scenario: The mission is unsuccessful and they can’t get back on the tube. Then they’d have to shack up in the townships here for a while, try to lie low until the dust clears, and figure out an extraction. Assuming they’re not dead, of course. There’s no way they can take on the Institute by themselves, so if they’re beaten to the target, the mission is over. The best they could hope for then would be information to take back to ARC.
“Laura, Gabrielle? Welcome to Second City.” The voice that greets them is polite and soft. It takes a split second for Serena’s brain to process, and then she’s turning and smiling what she hopes is a winning smile.
“Oh, yes. Hello. Are you our escort?” Abial’s voice is soft and simpering. Gross, but effective at blending them in.
The boy who spoke appears to be around fifteen, and is impeccably dressed in City fashion, with an expensive comm unit riding the curve of his upper ear. His features are interesting. Traces of what could be Korean heritage are evident in the darkness and angles of his eyes, yet his high nose is unmistakably European in origin. He tilts his head and speaks into the comm, the throat mic stuck to his neck flashing green. As he does so, he makes an ‘A’ with his fingers, so nonchalantly that it appears he’s merely twisting his hands in boredom as he chats over the comm.
The A sign – the signal they were told to look for. But the boy had recognized them with little trouble, it seems. Do they stand out that much? Had he been told ahead of time who they are and what they look like? Or have they already given themselves away?
“Yes, Tomas, I have them. We’ll be around in a minute.” Serena and Abial blink at each other for a moment, confused, and then the boy gestures grandiosely toward the street corner, his black eyes sparkling.
“If you’ll follow me, ladies, our pick up will be just a moment.”
They obediently hurry after him, Serena still worrying that they’re doing something to give themselves away. He’s moving fast, and they almost trot to keep up. Surely that’s going to attract attention. When he turns the corner and they’re out of sight of the soldiers, though, he spins on his heel and grins at them.
“Wotcha, girls. I’m Leaf.” The educated tones are totally gone, street cant thickening his voice and making him sound older, if a lot poorer. Serena opens her mouth to speak, but he holds a finger up, waggling it.
“No time for that. Sol-patrol’s comin’ around in five, had to bust ya outta there before they come through. We gotta bit of a walk in front of us. Hope you’re in good shape!” With that he clips off the earpiece – an elaborate fake, Serena can now see. Which means no ride is coming. She hesitates, thinking. Sol-patrol ... Soldier patrol? So they’re already running?
Rolling her eyes at Abial, she starts to speak again, but the boy is already retreating down the road, and the dull thud of military boots stepping in time is just audible around the corner. Serena shuts her mouth with a snap and bolts after the weird kid, wishing she’d been allowed to wear her boots instead of flimsy, impractical shoes. She can feel every irregularity in the street surface, and the burn of blisters forming is already bothering her.
They travel rapidly, and every time they can’t avoid a soldier group, Leaf takes on his ‘gentleman’ air again, so rapidly that it bemuses the heck out of her. He’s like a chameleon, switching from one personality to another without a pause, altering everything about the way he carries himself – even his facial expressions. It’s a dislocating sensation to watch it happen, let alone try to keep up with it. They’re running, and then suddenly walking at a gentle pace, admiring the scenery and being regaled with the backstory of particular buildings, then abruptly running again.
The impromptu tour is actually quite interesting; Serena has only been into Fourth City twice now, as it’s dangerous for untrained Psionics to leave the slums, and learning about Second City is almost as good. Apart from a slightly different layout, it’s difficult to tell them apart. And, under the guise Leaf has chosen for them as tourists, she can gape up at the towering buildings to her heart’s content.
It does go on for longer than she would like, though. It’s getting dark and she’s extremely hungry by the time he stops them.
He glances back and forth, then leans casually on the wall, evidently waiting for a gap in pedestrians. Wondering where they are, she looks around and sees that they’re in a narrow street that seems to be bracketed by closed shops. The stores around them are only two stories tall, unlike most of the City. She can see a cam on the building opposite, although they’re positioned just out of its line of sight. It’ll be impossible to avoid all the security cameras, but she
appreciates the idea of keeping her face off as many as possible, especially if they’re about to do something like … oh, break into a building.
She ducks a bit farther back into the shadow, then turns to see that Leaf has squatted down. He rustles for a few minutes, setting her teeth on edge, although Abial looks perfectly relaxed, as if she knows exactly what’s going on. It’s annoying, and Serena is about to ask what’s taking so long when she hears the familiar sound of an electric lock disengaging, and Leaf opens the front door of what looks like a store that’s gone out of business. Thick metal shutters guard the large window facing the street, and the door appears sturdy, she notes approvingly. It should do for a place to hide out while they try to find out what’s going on. Now that they’re in the City, she hopes that they can access news feeds that hold some information – at least what the public’s been told. Leaf might know something useful as well. They could use any kind of insight at this point. It’s hard to make a plan without intel.
Night has crept up on them, now, and the sky is almost totally dark. She glances down the road one more time, then follows Abial and Leaf into the building, eager to get off the streets and down to business. Shutting the door behind her, she turns to check out the place.
“Here we go, folks. The owner got arrested two weeks ago, but they ain’t showed anyone new around yet, so I took a looksee, and I reckon it’ll be a suitable base for ya.” There’s a note of pride in his voice, and suddenly he seems older again, holding his body differently and looking even less the young gentleman, more a ruffian in his late teens. He runs his fingers through his hair, disrupting the harsh style it was combed into, and grins broadly at them, looking rather devilish.
