Renegades of PEACE (Secrets of PEACE Book 2)

by T. A. Hernandez

  She made her way to her desk and reached out for the thin, black bar sitting in the center. When she touched it, the holographic display flickered to life and prompted her for her security phrase. She whispered so quietly at first that it didn’t register, and the system prompted her again. She cleared her throat and spoke as loud as she dared. The system recognized her voice this time and logged her in to unit C’s network.

  It didn’t take Aubreigh long to find Natalie Steele’s records with the identification number Seth had given her. She pulled up the order for the abortion and the appointment schedule for the clinic. Everything was locked. She tried to override it, and to her great relief, her clearance level was high enough to do so. She couldn’t erase the records completely, but it was simple enough to enter a new appointment date into the calendar.

  She paused there for a moment, her finger hovering over the submit button at the bottom of the display. She could still turn back. This wasn’t her problem. If she just kept her head down and did what she was told, nothing bad would happen to her.

  But she couldn’t do that anymore. Not after what had happened to Zira, not after all the pain she’d seen in parents’ eyes as she took their children away from them. She had a chance to set things right—maybe not for everyone, but for this one family, in this single moment, she could do the right thing.

  Aubreigh tapped the button. Even though she’d decided to trust Seth, for an instant, she half-expected a spotlight to shine in her face as E-1 officers came pouring out of every corner to arrest her. When that didn’t happen, she smiled. She’d probably never meet Natalie Steele or know what happened to her after this, but in one of the few rare moments she’d had since being assigned to population control, she felt like she had made a difference for the better.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Zira sat with her back against the wall and flipped the blade of her pocketknife in and out, in and out. Through the half-open door down the hall, she could see the Steeles huddled together on the edge of their mattress. Grant had his arm around Natalie and seemed to be whispering something in her ear, but he was too quiet to hear, and there wasn’t enough light to make out their faces. On the other side of the living room, Tripp paced back and forth, occasionally stopping to peer out the window as if he expected Project authorities to show up any minute.

  “Stop that,” Zira hissed. “You’re going to freak them out.”

  “They should be freaked out,” Tripp said, but he stopped pacing and lowered himself to the floor beside her. “It shouldn’t be taking this long.”

  Zira shrugged and stuck the knife back in her jacket pocket. “It takes as long as it takes.”

  “It’s been hours. What if she turned him in?”

  “Aubreigh would never do that.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do know that. As soon as she hears about their situation, she’ll want to help. She just has to figure out a way to do it safely, and that’s going to take some time. Be patient, and stop fidgeting. You’re as twitchy as a junkie who needs their next fix.”

  Tripp grunted. “That actually doesn’t sound so bad right now.”

  Zira rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t serious.”

  “I know, but I don’t like feeling so out of control. Especially with everything that’s happened today.” He put his elbows on his knees and stared down at the floor. “I used to be an addict. After I left the Project, I would use heroin whenever I felt like this. Before long, it was all the time. I got clean when the rebels found me—five years now—but sometimes, when things go bad, I start feeling like I need a hit, just to take the edge off.”

  Zira gave him an apologetic look. He’d never mentioned having a history of drug abuse before, and she hadn’t meant to bring up the issue. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say and finally settled for, “I had no idea.” It sounded even more trivial out loud than it had seemed in her head.

  “It’s not something I go around telling people. Doesn’t make for a very good first impression, you know?”

  She nodded. “Why did you start?”

  He waited a few moments before answering. “I was a mess when I left the Project—for a lot of reasons I won’t go into right now. At first it was prescription meds. For some stupid reason, I figured that was safer—or I told myself it was. Then a buddy gave me heroin. It was cheaper and easier to come by. I was hooked. It was the only way I knew how to deal with everything that had happened. It was the only way I felt like I was still in control, even if it wasn’t real.”

  “How did you manage to avoid being caught by the Project?”

  Tripp shrugged. “Aside from the drugs, I was still careful. And I don’t think Ryku ever expected me to fall into that kind of life, so he wasn’t looking for me in the right places. A lot of it was probably just dumb luck. One day I wound up in a hospital after an overdose, and a couple of E-1s used the medical records to track me down. I would have been arrested and executed if not for the rebels. They found me, took me in, helped me clean up. I’ve been working with them ever since.”

  What had happened to him that had been so awful he’d felt he needed drugs to cope? Zira considered asking; he seemed more inclined than usual to share parts of his personal life right now. Before she got the chance, the computer sitting on the floor next to them chimed. Tripp turned it around so they could both read Seth’s message.

  It’s done. Aubreigh wasn’t able to erase the records completely, but she did push the appointment back about a month. You should be safe for now.

  Zira nudged Tripp’s arm. “See? I told you she’d come through for us.”

  “Go ahead and gloat, kid.” He was busy typing a response to Seth and didn’t look at her, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He finished the message and turned the computer off. “Let’s go give them the good news and get out of here. We need to be as far away as possible by the time the sun comes up.”

  * * *

  Around noon, they crossed over the border from the South Central Region to the North Central Region. “We’re getting close,” said Tripp from behind the steering wheel.

  Grant was in the seat beside him and looked over his shoulder at Natalie, who sat in the back with Zira. “We’re so grateful to both of you for everything,” he said. “I know we put you through a lot.”

  Natalie nodded and turned to Zira. “Please thank your friend for us the next time you see her. Audrey, right?”

  “Aubreigh,” said Zira. She said nothing about the fact that she’d be lucky to ever see Aubreigh again.

  “Aubreigh. I’ll remember that. We wouldn’t be here without her help.”

  “Please don’t mention that to anyone else, though,” said Tripp. “And while we’re on the subject, it would be best if you didn’t tell anyone about Zira, either.”

  Under normal circumstances, Tripp would have completed this part of the transport on his own while Zira stayed behind. Because of the complications involved in the Steeles’ case, however, he’d thought it best to abandon the trailer they’d been staying in and relocate, just to be safe. The plan was for Tripp to park somewhere out of sight and lead the Steeles up to the next house alone. If everything went smoothly, none of the other rebels would know Zira was waiting in the car.

  Grant and Natalie looked at Zira quizzically. “I’m technically not supposed to be here,” she said.

  “Why not?” Grant asked.

  Because she wasn’t supposed to be alive. Because the rebels would have a hard time trusting her. Because she used to hunt down and kill radicals as a Project assassin. She was still trying to decide how best to answer the question without alarming them when Tripp took a sharp turn onto an unmarked country road and saved her from having to respond. “Whoa, there! Sorry about that. I almost missed our turn.”

  Natalie exchanged a shaken glance with Zira, who shrugged and went back to staring out the window. They drove for a few more miles. As they passed by a dirt lane, Zira caught a flash of blue out of the
corner of her eye. She turned to look out the rear window, and a man on a blue dirt bike pulled out behind them. He caught up to them in seconds. “We’re being followed,” she said to Tripp.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Looks like Javier. No worries—he’s one of us.” The motorcycle zipped up beside them, and the dark-haired man riding it turned to peer through the window. Zira tried to shrink back in her seat. “No point in trying to hide now, kid,” said Tripp.

  “Is everything all right?” Natalie asked.

  “Yeah,” Tripp said. He gave Javier a wave and the motorcycle sped on ahead. “I’m going to have to do a little explaining, but I guess it had to happen eventually. Maybe now is as good a time as any.”

  “What’s he doing out here?” Zira asked.

  “Probably looking for us. We’re late, thanks to last night’s delay. It’s fine. We’ll get it all straightened out when we meet up with Alma and the rest of the group.” He said it with confidence, but his hands tightened around the steering wheel just a little bit more.

  They pulled up to a dilapidated old house set back from the road about a hundred yards. As soon as Tripp shut the car off, four people burst out the front door with weapons raised and surrounded them. Zira recognized Alma front and center, her dark curls bound up in an untamed ponytail on top of her head. Javier followed close behind her. “What’s all this about?” asked Grant.

  Trip rolled down the window and stuck both hands outside. “Okay guys, you got us. Great work.”

  “You’re late,” said Alma, “and my brother says you brought an extra person. You’ll have to forgive us for being a little suspicious.”

  “Everything is fine, really. We’re getting out of the car now.”

  “Slowly,” said Alma.

  Tripp glanced back at Zira. “Ready for your grand entrance?”

  “Not really.” She pulled the handle and pushed the door open, slowly, as they had been instructed. When she stepped out of the car, Alma’s gaze immediately locked onto her. Zira raised her hands in the air. Then, just for good measure, she gave a small wave and put on a friendly smile.

  Alma’s brows drew together in confusion. “Stand down,” she said, lowering her gun. The rest of her companions followed suit and she turned to them. “Javier, load Tripp’s supplies into the back of the car. You two—take Mr. and Mrs. Steele inside and get them something to eat.” The Steeles followed the men Alma had indicated without so much as a backward glance at Zira and Tripp. Meanwhile, Javier retrieved a box from the porch and put it in the trunk of the car. Alma maintained a solid grip on her pistol. On his way back to the house, Javier stopped and said something inaudible to her. Alma just shook her head, and he continued inside. Once the door was closed behind him, she tore into Tripp. “¿Qué está haciendo ella aquí? ¿Estás loco?”

  Tripp leaned towards Zira. “This could take a while. You should probably wait in the car.”

  Zira nodded and slid into the back seat, eager to get away from Alma’s wrath. She rolled down the window just a crack so she could listen in on their conversation, but it didn’t do her any good. Alma was still yelling at Tripp in Spanish, and to her surprise, Tripp was responding in Spanish as well. There were a lot of hand gestures, scowls, and shaking heads, but Zira could only understand a few words here and there.

  This went on for several minutes before Alma finally calmed down enough to listen to Tripp. She put her pistol back in its holster at her hip and crossed her arms. Her expression softened a little, and at last, she threw her hands up and let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. It will probably take us about a week to get back to base, so you better tell Chase before then. Otherwise, he’ll be hearing about this from me, and he’s not going to like that.”

  “I’ll tell him,” said Tripp.

  Alma pointed to the car and caught Zira’s gaze. “And you—I can see you in there eavesdropping. If this turns out to be some elaborate scheme to gather intel for that pendejo you call Chairman, I will personally make sure you get new arms to match that leg of yours.”

  She turned on her heel before Zira could respond and marched into the house. Tripp got in the car, and Zira clambered over the center console to sit in the front passenger seat. “Is she okay?”

  Tripp started the car and pulled away from the house. “She will be.”

  “Who’s Chase?”

  “Our boss,” said Tripp. “The de facto leader of the rebellion.”

  “Are you going to be in trouble for all of this?”

  “Maybe a little, but it’s worth it. We need you, Zira. You’re a good asset, and you proved that last night. Chase might not like it at first, but he’s smart enough not to throw away a good opportunity.”

  She hoped he was right. Tripp had done a lot for her since she left the Project, and she didn’t want to cause him any problems. “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” she said.

  He chuckled a little, but his eyes were sad. “I learned before I left the Project. Kind of stupid, actually. I was trying to impress a girl.”

  “Did it work?”

  “I don’t think she was impressed by the Spanish, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have other ways of charming her.”

  Zira rolled her eyes. “I can only imagine. I don’t speak Spanish, though, so maybe you could fill me in on what happened back there.”

  “Alma wasn’t too happy to see you.”

  “Yeah, I got that part.”

  “She threatened to take you into custody right then and there, and when I talked her out of that, she wanted to call Chase and ask him how to proceed.”

  “But you talked her out of that, too.”

  “Barely. And only because I reminded her that she owed you a favor. You know, because of how we held you in hostage in Grayridge and forced you to have your leg amputated.”

  “Good point.”

  Tripp grinned. “I thought so. Anyway, I bought us a little time to get in touch with Chase and tell him about all of this ourselves. It will sound better coming from me—a little less sneaky. Chase doesn’t like sneaky.”

  “I can understand why.”

  Tripp nodded. “He’ll want to meet you.”

  Zira frowned. It was important that she make a good impression on Chase, if only for Tripp’s sake, but she wasn’t keen on authority figures, especially after the one she knew best had tried to have her killed. She doubted Chase was quite as extreme as Ryku, but then again, he was a rebel—a radical—and until recently, she’d believed radicals were the enemy. That was all Project propaganda, of course, but she couldn’t help but feel more than a little apprehensive about meeting their leader. He wasn’t going to like the news that a former Project assassin had been secretly working with his people for the past several months.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jared stood outside Ryku’s open office door and counted down the minutes until he would be relieved of his post. Ever since the other chairmen had been killed, a major portion of his work consisted of serving as Ryku’s bodyguard. Cecilia had suggested the idea, and Ryku had been quick to agree to it. Giving a bodyguard to the sole remaining chairman of the Project was a logical move. In order to keep up appearances, Ryku had determined that only the very best and most trustworthy members of his unit would suffice. That included Jared—just another perk of being the chairman’s dog. Of course, there was no real threat to Ryku’s life since he’d murdered the other chairmen himself, but no one was supposed to know that. Or if they did, they were at least expected to keep it to themselves.

  Jared had volunteered for the night shift; lately it had been difficult for him to sleep more than a few hours each night, anyway. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly eight o’ clock in the morning now. Ten more minutes, then Cecilia would be along to relieve him.

  Inside the office, Ryku’s CL beeped with an incoming call. “Yes,” Ryku said. He almost always answered like that. Not with a friendly, “Hello,” or a business-like, “Chairman Ryku speaking.” Just that one simple word, bot
h permitting and commanding the other person to speak.

  “It’s ready,” said the person on the other end of the call.

  “It’s much earlier than I expected,” the chairman said. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. We’re prepared to give you a demonstration, if you’d like. We can meet you at the shooting range in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  What was ready? It could have been something related to an E-2 assignment, but now that Ryku oversaw all five units of the Project, he received calls related to all sorts of things.

  Jared glanced around the doorway, and the chairman caught his eye as he pulled a black jacket off the back of his chair and slipped it on. “We’re going to the shooting range.”

  “Cecilia will be here in a few minutes, sir.”

  Ryku waved a hand as he walked out of the office and shut the door. “Leave Cecilia. I want you to see this.”

  Jared frowned, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He followed the chairman across the compound and out the front gate to the parking lot. They got into a black car, and Ryku entered their destination into the vehicle’s autopilot system. “What’s out there?” Jared asked.

  “Unit A has been working on a special project for the past two decades, and now that Chairman Leon isn’t around to dictate how it’s used, I’m eager to see what it can do.”

  Two decades? Whatever had taken them that much time to create had to be impressive. “What is it?”

  “You’ll see. I found out about it a few years ago. It was meant to be a potential defensive measure for unit P and the military, but Leon thought it might be useful for improving our own operations. He was overprotective of it and didn’t want people outside of unit A knowing about it since it’s only a prototype. I could never conduct any real field tests. Not until now.”