“You already said there wasn’t,” he said, staring at me.
“Yeah, but that was before. That was before . . .”
“Before you realized what we were going to have to do?”
“No! It’s not that! It’s just . . . this is so . . . so fucking reckless. We’re flying blind. There’s so much interference.”
“That’s why no one’s happy about it,” he said severely, refusing to get worked up. “But guys like Brandon always have a million reasons not to do the things they should’ve been doing all along. Don’t be one of them, Aaron.”
“You’re going to get us k—” I caught myself. “Torn apart on Saturday. And take God knows whoever else with us. People that—”
But he’d already turned, walking down the corridor to his locker.
My foot felt like it passed through Michael Paulus’ chest protector, sending him into the air, half turning. I’d already earned the round’s point after landing a series of hits, but I followed them up anyway, taking advantage of the sparse refereeing and putting extra snap into my leg’s final extension. Caelus had all the techs scared of him, so maybe they should be scared of me, too. Maybe if I’d just fought harder earlier, been more aggressive to begin with, then none of this would’ve happened. Sebastian and Rhys would still be here, and we would’ve already had everything worked out.
Paulus groaned on the floor as I approached. “You must really . . . really . . .” The wind was knocked out of him and he was gasping for air. “Want to be targeted.”
I glowered. “You’ll be lucky if you even make it to the Challenge. We’ve got two more rounds of this here.”
I didn’t feel like the same person. I couldn’t be. If I stayed scared and paralyzed I was going to get chewed up, just like last time—just like every time here, by the people who were willing to take things the farthest. Eve wouldn’t be able to finish the cure. And we’d be setting off a bomb without knowing for certain that it was the right thing to do.
If I beat Paulus—which was as good as done—and then threw my next match to Bluerine, I’d fight Daries tomorrow afternoon; he’d been transferred into our class after Pierre had been hurt, to even things out. He was strong and relentless, but a well-placed shot or two would land him in Medical for a couple weeks.
“I’d be careful talking that way.”
“It’s the most careful thing I could say,” I jeered, as the referee put up the flag to start the fourth round.
“There’s a better—” My jumping snap kick caught him in the jaw before he could finish. And a roundhouse to the side of the head sent him careening into the mat. I was flying in with a dropped elbow, but this time the referee stepped in between us.
“Watch the head,” he shouted.
I ignored him. “Is that careful enough? Tell me some more about how you’re going to target my units on Saturday. I’d love to know.”
Michael Paulus smiled through his bloody nose. “Who said anything about Saturday?”
“Did you hear that?” I asked the referee. “Threat of violence outside of class, violation of code thirty-four, subsection B. I don’t suppose I could get you to testify to that at my inquest, could I?”
I screamed into my towel in an out-of-the-way corner of the locker room. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t me. I’d taken too many stims and had too little sleep for me to say what was what anymore. I needed to cool down and think things through. Get a handle on myself. There had to be an answer to this, there just had to be.
Stuffing my dirty sparring shirt and pants back into the bag, I heard the faint jingle of the two bullets still in there from after the accident and froze. For a second I stared at my deodorant, then my towel draped over the bench. I’d planned to throw the bullets away, but I’d forgotten about them after the tie-in with the Verex and the meeting in the Box Room.
But that was it. That was how I could stop Fingers. I didn’t have an actual class with him in the Weapons Room, but we were due for one of Caelus’ three a.m. training drills anytime now and there was enough drowsy chaos that no one would know where the bullet came from. It would just be another accident, another equipment malfunction. Only this time, it would just be a disabling shot to the leg. And it would buy us enough time to get whatever evidence we needed one way or another.
I stood still a moment, contemplating, and then pushed the thought out. That wasn’t me, either. None of this was.
I knew I had to be tougher and not be so fucking naïve, but that was too much to even wrap my head around. Then again, letting a bomb explode and putting Eve at risk planting it . . . that was too much, too.
Jesus Christ, I have to get out of here.
We all did.
Maybe Eve was right and we should just take a shuttle and go tell the Fleet. At least that way, even if we were wrong, people wouldn’t die. If we were right the colonists might, but . . . we couldn’t be right. I thought we were, but still . . . there had to be some way that no one got hurt.
Out the window, lights from the Inner Ring construction caught my eye as I threw my sparring bag over my shoulder. Most of the scaffolding was gone and they were putting the finishing touches on the plating and support columns ribbing the main coil. It was strange. The skeleton had been hanging out there bare for so long that I’d kind of just expected it to stay that way, but now that it was being filled in, a faint, cloudy sensation was spreading through me.
Looking more and more like a weapons array every day, isn’t it, said a voice.
Chapter 52
I swiveled around in the corridor, but there was no one there.
Try not to get creeped out, but it’s Fingers—inside your head.
I opened my mouth to respond, but then the voice said, Don’t talk or give any indication that anything’s out of the ordinary. Just listen.
I stiffened. There had been this almost imperceptible itch on my scalp, but with Fingers’ voice I realized it was actually coming from underneath, pinging every few seconds in a slender pulse. And as soon as I noticed that, I noticed there was a pressure, too. An uneven cool depression, like a sheet of snow resting not so much on my head as my consciousness, making it feel like I had to concentrate just to hold it up.
I hacked past your TRCV number to tie-in, only I modified the communications pathway so I could speak, or rather “think” to you. Don’t answer yet, but do you remember that red gel that was in the C3 fridge? That was tie-in fluid, with erythrosine dye. I put in some indigo carmine I stole from the chemlab so now it looks like Zeroes, which means we can shoot up every time we need to talk without drawing suspicion. And it’s simple, really; instead of using Telnet to beam the signal to our Mylan Chips, we’re just using the wireless on our U-devs. For all the cameras know, I’m just lying on my bunk after class, enjoying a nice Z trip like half the kids on this station.
The pressure became stronger as I became more aware of where it was coming from. The thoughts were diffused but possessing a source at the same time, somewhere deep down, buried under layers and layers of dormant impressions and memories. I wanted to sit down, or at least steady myself on something, but the bench by the lockers now seemed impossibly far away.
Holy shit, I managed to think. Or at least I thought I did.
And yes, the pathway’s two-sided, so I can hear your thoughts, but just superficially since the Mylan Chip only has access to your prefrontal cortex. In order for me to really understand them, you have to direct them at me. Does that make any sense?
I . . . I guess.
Otherwise, think of it as only going one level down. As vague sentiments more than exact thoughts.
It felt like it was more than that—far more levels down, like he was at the bottom of a well, calling up. Echoing amongst a cacophonous storm of audio. All right, but if you took the tie-in fluid on camera, wouldn’t the Reds be able to piece things together?
I sensed him hesitating. It was Fin who stole it, but it was a year ago, and it’s just been sitting in the back of
the fridge. I only opened the door a crack when I put the indigo carmine in and I’ve only been taking out a little at a time. So yeah, there’s a chance, but we . . . we really don’t have another option.
Have you tied into anyone else?
Daries. Simon.
“Is Simon going to talk?” I asked aloud.
Aaron, think it, remember! Don’t speak!
I looked around down another row of the locker room, hoping to find somewhere I could sit down alone. There were people nearby, but they were busy, engrossed in their own conversations and changing out of their sparring gear, so no one seemed to have noticed.
It wouldn’t have been the first time someone’s talked to themselves, so it’s okay, but . . . but just try not to. We don’t know how closely we’re being watched.
Sorry.
But no, I don’t think so. He would’ve done it already if he was going to. There was a slight pause before Fingers’ thoughts continued. Anyway, we’ve gotta talk. The array’s almost finished.
I started thinking but stopped, wondering if he could hear it.
Deep down, you know I’m right.
Fingers, I thought again, unnerved that I didn’t know how deep or shallow this “layer” was. This is happening too fast. We need to—
We don’t have time to fuck around, Aaron! Mars is trying to stage a coup against the Fleet. The Fleet that people voted for.
Yeah, but . . . I thought back, trying to act normal as I passed by a group of Blues leaving the locker room. The pressure on my mind seemed to have stabilized, reaching a kind of equilibrium, which made our exchange of thoughts a little smoother, like static blending into the background. But that doesn’t mean we—
We what? Protect the Fleet? Protect all the people who are going to die when Mars takes over? And you know it, too. That’s why you freaking told us. You just . . . you just don’t want to get your hands dirty. But guess what?
What?
Whistler’s in. Daries is in. Brandon’s in.
No, no, no, Brandon’s not. I was just with him in the cafeteria; he was just as freaked out as I was that you were eating alone with Daries. What was that, by the way? Why would you need to—
To clean up the mess Simon made in the Box Room. His thoughts felt loud for a second, like he was shouting them into my head, but returned to their previous volume a few moments later. The Reds saw it. Paters saw it. And a “tactics exchange” wasn’t a good enough answer . . . so we built it out more.
How? Brandon had brought up the Challenge. Maybe he was actually going along with it.
Saying that Simon was going to offer Lieutenant Kava in D Block an alliance on our behalf. She trades her best guys for pennies on the dollar to the Storms, so we can beat Caelus. And next term we help her take the captaincy from Whistler. Only in actuality we’ll renege, trade Whistler the guys, and Whistler will give Simon her spot. Zeroes being thrown in on top as sweeteners.
Does she even have anyone worth grabbing?
There are a few notables, but according to the story that’s the whole reason you tackled Simon; you don’t think it’s worth the risk. And you didn’t want Eve getting caught in the crossfire.
The thought of the bullets entered my head, but just as quickly I pushed them out again. He couldn’t know about that. That was the only play I had left.
The point is, those guys are all on board. Eve, too, as of an hour ago. She just hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet.
Bullshit.
Your inquest is coming up, Fingers shot back. Do you really think she’s going to let you get convicted and disappear? Because that’s what’ll happen. She knows that. And she knows that we’re going to do it anyway. All the better that we do it right and give ourselves a chance.
There was no way Eve would go along with it. That’s not true.
Ask her yourself. I’ve already hacked everyone’s TRCVs and gotten it set up on the intranet, so all you need to do is inject yourself with the fluid and your U-dev will automatically connect with whomever you want. Theoretically, anyone on the station can do this now since it’s over the public LAN, but as we’re the only ones who know it’s enabled we’ll be the only ones using it.
Oh, I will. I paused, sputtering, thinking of the bullets again and grasping for another thought to throw him off. I needed to keep him doing all the sending until I figured out how to control this better. It’s that easy though? Just shoot the tie-in fluid and think about someone?
Easy for you, maybe, but it wasn’t easy for me to piggyback onto the Mylan Chips.
That’s pretty clever.
I’m a clever guy. Fingers snorted. At home I always used to whine about being underappreciated, but here it’s the opposite. Everyone knows that the person able to control the most techs is going to be block captain, so we get fought over like scarce resources, like fucking blood diamonds in a jungle.
Is this what this is all about? Getting revenge?
Do you really think I’m that small? asked Fingers.
No, but I think you’re angry.
And I don’t think you’re angry enough, Fingers snapped.
I was about ready to shoot something back, but stopped. I shouldn’t fight him now. The first thing I needed to do was to talk to Eve, Pierre, and everyone else at C3 and figure out what they’d actually said, since I certainly wasn’t going to take his word for it. In the meantime I just needed to try and get a better sense for how everything worked. What about the Reds? Can you tie into them?
Maybe. But they’ve got firewalls around the Inner Ring and that’s the last thing we want to bump into. Us connecting on our U-devs and transmitting stuff out here isn’t weird at all, but the only thing we send to the Reds is our assignments. So maybe then, but I don’t know. It’s risky.
And what about Sebastian’s U-dev? Could you hack into that?
Easy.
I thought it might be hard since they’re doing their investigation and—
What, you want me to plant something there that makes you look innocent? You’re wasting your time; it’s a kangaroo court and they’ll find what they want to. They don’t even let your defender see their evidence, so they can ambush you and your witnesses in cross-ex.
It’s not that. It’s that paper he wrote about using the nebula’s plasma energy to shield the planet, I thought, still not quite believing I was able to ask him—in the open—questions I’d been wanting to ask ever since the Box Room. It was slowly getting easier, too. At first I’d been all cerebral about it, but the best way to send thoughts was just by pretending you were talking without moving your mouth. Like you were a kid again, having a conversation with an invisible friend. Remember, I was telling you guys about it in—
Oh, I already looked at that. He was dead-on.
You’re just saying that.
I’m a lot of things, Aaron, but I’m not a liar. At least not about this kind of stuff.
I didn’t answer, but he seemed to snatch the thought from my head. You think I’m the kind of guy who just wants to see the place burn and, well, you might just be onto something. He gave what felt like a laugh and, like a shadow creeping over a patch of sun, his tone changed. But so what? So what if I do want to see every fucker here get what’s coming to them? That doesn’t change what you guys found. We both know how bad it is. The difference is you haven’t come to terms with what it’s going to take to stop them and I have. Just what do you think is going to happen to the colonists when they punch through the lightwall? Huh? And just what do you think they’re going to research when they don’t have their Mylan Chips to worry about? Do you think they’re going to share it with the Fleet? There’s no Athens to set them straight this time around. It’s only Kerr and Marquardt and whoever else is in on this. And just what kind of new Athens do you think they’re going to build?
I didn’t respond.
You know I’m right, Fingers thought.
No, I don’t. And I thought you said you weren’t listening to my thoughts.
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You’re a terrible liar, Aaron, but I don’t need to listen to your thoughts to know that. I felt him smile. Besides, I told you I couldn’t listen. Even if I was a liar, you think I’d lie about something you’ll be able to call me on in a few minutes when you tie-in for yourself? That’s more of a Brandon move. The smile seemed to widen for a few seconds at the thought, then disappear. I probably would if I could, though. It’s hard not to use a power if you have it. I guess that’s why the Confederation got so serious about chipping everyone—to make sure they didn’t invent anything too tempting. The cat always gets out though. Always. That’s why this is so important. But still, I doubt it’ll matter. Just the fact that this place exists—a planet and a station that block Mylan Chips—ensures it won’t. They’re scarce resources, Aaron, and what happens to scarce resources?
“They get fought over,” I said aloud.
Chapter 53
Eve, can you hear me?
She was in the student lab, jotting something down on electronic paper. I’d followed Fingers’ instructions with the U-dev and stuck the tie-in fluid-loaded syringe into my arm as soon as I was back in the dorm.
You’re not considering doing it, are you?
She didn’t answer. I know she heard me, though, because she stopped writing midsentence.
Because if this th—
Aaron, he’s going to try it anyway. At least if we work together we can make sure no one gets hurt.
People are going to get hurt. It’s a bomb.
That has a directional blast that can be contained if we put it on the far end of the lab. It’ll breach the outer hull, but emergency lightwalls will kick in and keep the rest of the wing from depressurizing.
You’re not serious.
I don’t think you’re getting it. Fingers was talking about putting it in the fuel-holding area and knocking the whole station out of orbit. And he ‘was’ serious. So are Daries and these other people he told in your wing, Castor and Blueran or something . . . I can’t remember exactly.
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