Reclaimed

by Madeleine Roux

  The black door down on the gallery level opened. Senna jumped, rushing to the railing and waving frantically at Zurri as she emerged. The model spotted her right away, sprinting toward the ramp, a little tube clutched in her hand. When Senna turned back to tell Efren to continue, he was gone. She was standing rigid, in stunned silence, when Zurri reached her.

  “We need to get the fuck out of here,” Zurri said, grabbing her by the wrist.

  “Yes, we do,” Senna whispered, hoarse. “I . . . I don’t know how.”

  Down below, Dr. Colbie wandered out onto the gallery, distracted by her VIT, but Senna clearly saw her glancing up at them furtively, spying.

  “They’re watching us,” Senna hissed. “And I threw my VIT in a bush! How do we even call for help?” It will take all three of you working together to leave this place. “Han . . . we need to find him, get him away from Paxton. He’ll know how to get a message out to the satellite to send a shuttle.”

  She decided against telling Zurri that a potential hallucination had just given her advice on how to escape. Just to be sure, she checked the bench, and the portrait was there, Efren’s likeness perfectly captured. A tiny flash of light danced across it. So he was real, or at least real enough in her mind to faithfully render with oil paint.

  “Act casual,” Zurri instructed, leading her closer to the railing, in full view of Dr. Colbie. “Of course I’ll tell you all about the last dance party on Ibiza, you messy gossip,” she crowed theatrically, swatting Senna on the shoulder. Then in an undertone: “Smile and pretend we’re bullshitting.”

  “You . . . um . . . you better watch out! Or I’ll sell this to the drama blogs!” Senna lifted one shoulder and Zurri rolled her eyes.

  “Close enough,” she whispered. “Do not react when I tell you this, okay? Nod if you understand.”

  Senna clenched her jaw, lips hurting from her big, fake smile, but she nodded.

  “These bastards are drugging you. Do you know what Zolapro is?”

  Senna shook her head no.

  “It’s an antianxiety med, a real heavy hitter. This shit could turn a torrential downpour into a sun shower, get me? It can make your hair fall out.”

  She stifled a gasp, not just because of the violation of her trust, but because she remembered, vaguely, Marin tossing her wig across the room, lamenting her new medication’s side effects. “Oh my God!” she let that one go, loud, channeling her frustration into it while trying to sound pleasantly scandalized and not like she was about to rip the railing out of the floor. “No way!”

  “Fucking way. They’ve put you into that LENG room for twenty hours,” she hurried on, fake smile eerily in place. “I saw your file open on her console. It’s bad, Senna. Real bad. We need to get out of here before they wipe me and I lose everything I know.”

  “We have to work together,” Senna told her softly, squeezing her arm back. There was no time to panic, no time to rage. She had to focus, plan, outsmart the smartest man in the universe, or they would be stuck there forever, Paxton’s to start and restart at his leisure. If only Efren would come back and tell her more . . . “And we need Han. He’s getting close with Paxton, he’ll know how to get into their servers and get a message out. I think we have to play along, pretend like we don’t know any of this.”

  Zurri nodded, her face shiny with nervous sweat. “Let me work on the kid. I’ll . . . I don’t know, bribe him with merch or something. Can you keep Paxton distracted?”

  Bile rose in her throat, but Senna knew it was their best shot. They needed Han, she and Zurri weren’t going to crack any high-tech security measures no matter how hard they tried. He didn’t deserve to be left behind, even if he thought he respected Paxton. “Tell him Paxton isn’t who he thinks he is. Tell him he’s a fraud, that all of his big smart-guy persona is just that, a persona. He had help building all of this, he didn’t do it alone.”

  “How did you—”

  “Don’t ask, just trust me. What about the rest of the staff? Do you think they’re a lost cause?”

  “Dr. Colbie is in on this,” Zurri growled, maintaining that creepy, tight smile. “Forget them.”

  “Phrasing,” Senna murmured, but managed a thin laugh. “Okay, we need a signal.”

  “Kinda tough when you don’t have your VIT,” Zurri chided. The double doors beneath Paxton’s office swished open. “Shit. Company. If I can get Han on our side, the signal is ‘all for one and one for all.’ ”

  Senna scrunched up her nose.

  “Really? You don’t—The Three Muske—never mind, just remember it, okay? I’ll explain the reference when we’re a million miles away from this dump.” Zurri gave a riotous, high-pitched giggle and nudged Senna out of the way with her hip, taking quick, clipped strides toward the left-side ramp near Paxton’s office. Lula, who had been napping near the now fully printed dining table, got up and wagged her tail at the commotion, then went to follow her original master, Paxton.

  Senna knew that was her cue. As much as it pained her, as much as she wanted to be anywhere else and with anyone else, she found her courage and painted on a smile, leaning over the railing to get Paxton’s attention. It didn’t take much. His eyes flew to her as soon as he entered the gallery. The slow, wide grin that spread across his face simultaneously tore a jagged hole across her heart.

  Even the so-called smartest man in the universe had to have a weakness, and if she was truly just so lucky, then perhaps she would be his.

  31

  “You busy?” Zurri, the Zurri, he still couldn’t quite get over it, sidled up to Han as he entered the gallery. “Got a sec?” She flashed an odd smile at Paxton’s back as the man walked off. “My VIT is acting up, you’re the resident whiz kid, yeah?”

  Han watched Paxton and Lula trot off toward the ramp, his mouth dry, his fingers aching from clenching them into fists. The shadow had disappeared as they left the chamber housing the LENG containment field, and Paxton had seemingly not noticed a thing, bantering casually about all the avenues of study open to them. He would have forms forwarded to Han’s VIT, just some formalities to make transferring custody to Paxton easier. Money would grease those wheels, of course, the foster system on Tokyo Bliss was slammed, and with no other family in the picture, Han would be clear to declare Ganymede his residency and Paxton Dunn his guardian within a month or so if all went smoothly. Han mostly listened and didn’t talk. It seemed . . . fast. Sudden. Mentorship was one thing, but being adopted? By Paxton?

  Are you nuts? A week ago this would’ve been your ultimate fantasy. What the hell is wrong with you?

  “Um, sure,” Han said with a shrug. In fact, he was glad to have an excuse to get away from Paxton for a bit and clear his thoughts. He wanted to be triple sure that this was the right thing to do.

  “You all right?” Zurri asked, falling into step with him. She started leading him back through the gallery, past the table and Dr. Colbie idling outside the clinical labs, toward the bright and sunny courtyard. The Dome shutters were lowered, showing the constant swirl of frosty mist beating against the barrier.

  “I just have a lot on my mind,” Han told her.

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  He snorted. “You really want to know? Like, really?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Han detected a note of impatience in her voice, but brushed it off. First Paxton Dunn was asking to adopt him officially, and now he was getting advice from the most famous model in the galaxy. Subtly, he pinched the top of his leg, but nope, he was awake.

  They crossed into the courtyard, and he noticed Zurri sped up. It was a challenge to keep up with her long, long catwalk strides but he did his best. Immediately, the humidity hit like a slap, wet and green, a totally new atmosphere. “Paxton wants me to stay on permanently. I feel like I should be stoked, you know? That’s always been the dream, to work for him. But it just seems . . . I don’t k
now, fast. Maybe it’s weird here. Maybe I’m not ready. What would you do?”

  “I wouldn’t stay,” Zurri said quickly, easily. “But that’s me. I know you idolize him, kid, but you need to be careful. He’s an adult, you’re . . . well, you’re not there yet. Adults can take advantage, and you haven’t known him that long, right?”

  “With all the articles and speeches and blogs, I feel like I do know him,” Han replied. Or I did. “This is the chance of a lifetime. It should be an easy decision, so why is it hard?”

  She smirked down at him, but it was kinder than he expected from a rich, famous woman who didn’t need to give him the time of day. “Because you’re afraid. You’ve got your whole life to be smart, it’s okay right now to just be unsure.”

  “So what’s up with your VIT?” he asked, noticing that she was leading him toward the ramp that led up and around to the overlook outside the dormitories.

  “I need to send—”

  As they started up the ramp, Brea appeared, dressed in a shiny white skirt and jacket, her full dark hair loose around her shoulders. In her right hand, she carried Senna’s rose gold VIT.

  “Have either of you seen Senna?” Brea asked pleasantly. “She dropped this.”

  Han, not the greatest liar around, tried to shrug coolly. “I saw her with Paxton by his office.”

  “Oh!” Brea brightened even more. “She is with Paxton? Lovely. Thank you both!”

  Zurri paused, and waited until the woman had been swallowed up by the greenery of the courtyard before murmuring, “Dropped it, my ass.”

  “Yeah,” Han sighed, joining her as she started to climb. “She threw it on the floor. Paxton made her film some kind of promo vid and she’s furious about it.”

  “Han . . .” Zurri scoped out the corner around the archway leading into the dormitories behind them but they were alone. The top of Brea’s head could be seen bobbing along the mosaic path toward the gallery. “I’m gonna level with you. Senna and I need a shuttle out of here, and I think you should be on it with us.”

  They had reached the corridor leading down to this room, but he froze. “Is that why you told me not to stay on?”

  “You’re already having doubts!” Zurri replied. “Listen to them, and listen to me. Something is not right here. They’re drugging Senna, and putting her in that LENG thing for twenty hours. They could be doing that to us too and we would never know it!”

  “No . . .” Han shook his head, but the found himself following, slowly, tripping after her as she stomped toward his room. “Paxton wouldn’t do that.”

  “I saw Senna’s medical file,” Zurri told him.

  The door opened, alerted by his proximity, and they filed inside. Han rubbed his forehead, a headache brewing. Grabbing a Mega Slurp from the refrigerated drawer, he collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. “No. He’s an intense guy but I don’t think he would drug us without permission.”

  But how to explain that vid Senna had filmed? Her anger, her hurt, couldn’t be faked. She really didn’t remember doing it, and using that endorsement against her will would be wrong.

  “You don’t have to wonder or think,” Zurri told him, ripping a chair away from the table to make room for herself. She leaned over and showed him her VIT screen. There it was. The image of Senna’s file, and the notes from her LENG sessions.

  “Send that to me,” he whispered. “I want to see it.”

  “Sent,” she said.

  “How is this . . . But there has to be an explanation,” Han muttered. It was worse than he expected. What if Paxton was doing the same to him? What if he was lying about Han’s family? What if there was someone out there that cared about him, that wanted him home? Bubble boy, he thought with a grimace. Bubble man.

  Zurri pointed to the image, now displayed on his VIT. “Compliant. Do you like that word? Because I sure as shit do not like that word. I don’t plan on being compliant, neither does Senna. How about you?”

  Han felt his cheeks start to burn. It was too much to take in. He didn’t want to rush to judgment, or make a call without consulting Paxton, but of course Paxton would paint a rosy picture. Han imagined the silver orb again, a sphere of mercury suspended, potentially holding an actual black hole, a tear in the fabric of the universe. How could he walk away from that? How could he walk away from his dream?

  “I don’t know,” Han murmured, pushing his soda away and dropping his head onto the table. “He’s my hero.”

  “He’s not your hero,” she replied. “You think he did all of this himself? Alone? He might not even be the brains behind it, he could just be the money.”

  Han’s head shot up. “How did you know that?”

  Zurri blinked twice, hard. “Senna . . . Senna told me.”

  “He had a partner,” Han said slowly. “You’re right, he didn’t do this alone. And now that partner is nowhere to be found.” He didn’t need to say more, the implication, the possibility, hung there heavy and terrible between them. “There has to be a reason I’ve never heard of this partner, that he’s taking all the credit.”

  “So you’re in?” Zurri pressed. “You get it? You want to leave with us?”

  “Say I am. How would we even go about that? Paxton controls all the communications in and out of this place. If we try to hail a shuttle, he’ll notice and cancel it, the system might just auto-flag the request and deny it.”

  Zurri smacked her palm on the table and then paced, palms propped on the back of her hips. “You’re the tech guy, yeah? If you’re smart enough to get invited to stay on here, then I bet you can, I don’t know, hack? Hack it? Do . . . something?” She mimed typing furiously on an invisible keyboard.

  Rolling his eyes, Han slumped out of his chair and went to fetch his portable keyboard, then brought it back to the kitchen table and took a few fortifying gulps of soda. “I can try some of the scripts I brought, but I doubt they’re anywhere near sophisticated enough. Usually you break into this stuff with social engineering.”

  “Social engineering?” Zurri went to the refrigerated drawer and grabbed a Mega Slurp for herself. He scoffed and pointed. “What? I’m thirsty.”

  “You can trick people out of their passwords, get them to use a fake website that logs their information, or pose as an admin. If you’re convincing enough, you can get people to share all kinds of stuff,” Han explained. He opened his script bank and set the text to hover above his VIT so they could both see it, then he turned on his remote keyboard and bit down on his lip, thinking.

  “So social engineer,” Zurri encouraged, twinkling her fingers at him. “We need this, Han. We’ve got to get a shuttle out of this place. So work your magic, you know, King Shit.”

  He huffed. A beautiful, crazy, overbearing woman was demanding he hack into what was probably one of the most airtight systems in the entire universe. No pressure. But he knew she had a point, that whatever was going on in the Dome was too strange, too unethical, too scary to make staying an option. If Paxton really respected him, he would let him come back when the timing felt better.

  So where to begin?

  “Right. Yeah. Easy. King Shit.”

  “Han is king.”

  They both fell silent, staring at each other as Genie’s voice seemed to echo for an eternity in the little kitchenette.

  “Can you repeat that?” Han finally asked.

  “Han is king,” Genie stated flatly. “Would you like to activate Han Is King protocols?”

  “Suuuure?” Han shrugged, jutting out his lip, just as flabbergasted as Zurri, who was now sucking down her Mega Slurp like a woman dying of thirst. “Wait. Can you define ‘Han Is King protocols,’ please?”

  “Established approximately thirty-four hours ago by user Paxton, security level: admin, accessed through device X01X23Y4XYHJ at Dome time three twenty-five p.m. Voice command: King. Would you like to activate Han Is Kin
g protocols?”

  “That’s the serial number of my VIT,” Han breathed, his hands suddenly numb. “That means I logged in on my VIT and used Paxton’s admin ID to put in . . . put in this vocal command back door. It had to be me because the serial number verifies through your VIT implant. Whoa.”

  Zurri’s wide, wide eyes stared at him across their Mega Slurps. “Does that sound like something you would do?”

  Han grinned, sheepish. “Kinda. Yeah.”

  “So? You social engineered! Do it. Activate it!”

  “Genie? Activate Han Is King protocols, please.” He had to admit, saying it made him feel good. Powerful. It also made him tremble and want to curl up on the floor. This meant his file probably looked a lot like Senna’s. Han wouldn’t have put in this kind of fail-safe without cause. He was worried about forgetting. And he had. None of this remained; he couldn’t even remember how he had managed to crack Paxton’s security in the first place.

  “Protocols activated. Admin access granted to your device.”

  He remembered something then, something Paxton had told him while they ventured down that hall to visit the LENG particle in suspension. That Han’s mother had died, that he wanted to forget her because her voice haunted him, followed him everywhere, ubiquitous and inescapable.

  “I want to hear her,” he murmured, not caring if Zurri saw his chin quiver. “Genie, can you revert to your default voice?”

  “Yes, Han, would you like to keep these settings?”

  Her voice was gentle, quizzical, feminine but still in a pleasantly low register. It was the kind of voice you would never get tired of hearing. He clapped a hand over his mouth, and knew, in the place where memories lived outside the mind, that it was his mother. Not a ghost or a haunting, but a blessing.