Fate of Order

by Julian North

  “What do you mean?”

  “This war does matter. I said it doesn’t because I was angry, and that made me blind. But Virginia wants to turn these people into slaves. Others, like Landrew Foster-Rose-Hart, wanted to collar them. Mere discrimination pales in comparison to that darkness. Some evils are worse than others.”

  “That’s not a slogan that stirs people’s souls, Daniela.”

  I looked out the window again. “There has to be a better way.”

  We approached Manhattan from the south, watching her gleaming towers with the wariness of party crashers at a highborn wedding. Traffic slowed as we came within sight of the Holland Tunnel that would lead us under the waters of the Hudson River into lower Manhattan. The three lanes of vehicles waiting to enter the city moved at a snail’s pace through a silvery arch of antennas and lights before being permitted access to the tunnel beyond. Most cars passed through without incident, but the occasional selectee was diverted by grim-faced Authority men to an inspection area off the road.

  “This car has got all the proper registrations, and we’re clean of anything that would set off the scanners,” Katrina told us as we drew ever closer to the scanning arch. “However, there is still an element of luck involved.”

  I didn’t like the implications of her words. “What does that mean? I’m not lucky.”

  Katrina gave me an appraising look. “You seem to be doing all right. And what I mean is that even if our vehicle scans clean, one out of every five hundred cars is randomly selected for a search. Our identities are fake, but pretty good. They may stand up to scrutiny, or not. Whatever happens, follow my lead.”

  One in five hundred. A fraction of a percent. A gambler would take those odds. I didn’t like them. There were three cars ahead of us. Sweat stuck to my hands. The next vehicle to be scanned was a sleek black sedan with darkened windows. It passed through the arch without incident. We moved up one car length. A trio of black boots appeared out of the corner of my eye. They were marching toward our scanner lane, heavy rifles slung over their shoulders. Another car passed through. The black boots took up positions next to the scanner. The vehicle directly in front of us passed through the arch. An Authority officer stepped in front of it with his hand raised. My heart raced. A woman emerged from the rear seat, her clothing a sea of bright colors, her hair streaked with metal beads of gold. I couldn’t hear what she said to the black boots, but whatever her protests, they fell on deaf ears. She returned to her car with her head cast downward. After a few moments, her vehicle headed for the search area, trailed by the rest of the black boots. We passed through the arch, and I started to breathe again.

  “Just lucky enough,” Katrina said.

  Manhattan was mostly as I remembered it: clean, intimidating, wrong. The obvious difference from my last visit was the military presence. The usual complement of airborne drones had been joined by circling military razorFish aircraft. Pocket tanks with twin force cannon turrets were parked on the edge of the West Side Highway. I was also different. A little over a week ago I had been a student of Tuck, rubbing shoulders with the highborn elite at the White House. Now I was a fugitive, wanted by President Virginia Timber-Night herself.

  Katrina turned around to look at me. “Jalen said you had a plan. I got you into Manhattan. Where to now, Bronx City girl?”

  I looked down at the viser Rudolph had given me. It was three o’clock. “Head for Eighty-Ninth Street, east of Park Avenue; there’s a nice street to park on with tall trees and hanging branches that will obscure any drone surveillance.”

  “That’s near your school, Tuck, right? Then what do we do? You can’t go in there—you’d be spotted immediately. The world thinks you’ve vanished, but the Authority is still looking for you.”

  “All we need to do is wait.”

  Katrina instructed the autodriver as I requested. We drove through canyons of steel and glass, turning on the narrow road that wound its way through the lush greenery of Central Park, its expanse so beautiful even I couldn’t begrudge the place its existence.

  “My uncle once told me he loved this city,” Rhett said.

  I was surprised. “Rudolph Banks loved Manhattan?”

  “Not this Manhattan—New York City, what it used to be. He talked of a place of ideas, an incubator for the young, a place where anything could happen. He met the first of his wives here, you know.”

  I chewed on my lip as I thought of the city Rhett described versus the place I had come to know. “Manhattan can be beautiful. The park, the energy. But it’s none of those things Rudolph described, at least not now. It’s mostly a place for people who buy and sell things, a place for people who have known only privilege. Worst of all, it’s a world that’s been created by people who don’t want to face the reality of what lies beyond their island.”

  We arrived on Eighty-Ninth Street, turning off Park Avenue as I spoke. The elegant stone condominiums of the avenue, followed by the even more expensive private residences lining that section of Eighty-Ninth Street, gave evidence to my words. Still, it was beautiful.

  “Uncle Rudolph said the same thing, albeit more colorfully. I believe he phrased it, ‘Manhattan is filled with people who will sell you their crap, but only if the price is right.’”

  Rudolph Banks had a way with words.

  “And what do you think of it?” I asked Rhett.

  His easy smile never wavered. “I’m a farm boy.”

  Katrina had been listening—she scoffed. “You’re Rudolph Banks’s favorite boy, his de facto heir. The Harvard kid, the military hero, the golden son. Groomed for great things.” Her tone was mocking.

  If Rhett took offense, he didn’t show it. “Didn’t ask for any of that. My uncle arranged Harvard. I joined the army because I didn’t want to work at his company. Tried to avoid that as long as I could. I love the man—he raised me after my dad died, did right by my family. I’ll do my duty, but the lady asked what I wanted. The answer to that is I’d rather be outside trying to catch things with a pole from a pretty little pond in the Georgia backcountry. I don’t have much interest in buying or selling things. I prefer the way the fish have it, living in the moment.”

  “You don’t seem to have a problem with killing people, from what I’ve heard,” Katrina said. “Not exactly fishermen’s work.”

  That got my blood hot. Katrina didn’t know Rhett. She certainly had no right to judge him. “He killed people to save my life—Virginia’s people.”

  Rhett’s grin contracted, but only slightly. He kept looking at Katrina. “I do my duty.” He sounded disappointed.

  “Stop talking.” I gazed out the window. Rhett and Katrina copied my motion.

  “School is out, it seems,” Katrina observed. “Lovely uniforms.”

  There were dozens of Tuck students headed east, an army of Manhattan privilege on the march back to their luxurious homes. But my eyes were locked on only one person among the navy-clad masses.

  “There’s Alissa.”

  Chapter 8

  I had hoped Alissa would be walking home alone—she often did. But today she was with Dion Byne-Hall, the shortish highborn’s golden curls unwinding in the breeze. Dion’s floating familiar trailed the pair, watching and recording. It was too risky for me to try to approach her.

  “Follow them for a bit. I want to know where they are headed. Then I’ll know what to do.”

  Katrina took the controls, gliding us to a position in front of the girls so we could observe them. They were clustered with several other groups of Tuck students. I might have been projecting my own feelings onto her, but Alissa appeared uneasy. Her dark eyes kept scanning the sky and road. She was looking everywhere except where she was going. She noticed our car but couldn’t see inside. Gradually, the other students dispersed in various directions, but Alissa and Dion stayed together. They were headed for Alissa’s home.

  I glanced at my viser. “I’ll ping her.”

  Katrina spun around to face me. “It’s too risky. E
ven with a fake identity, the Authority might have your voice imprint.”

  I ground my teeth. “Kortilla contacted Jalen using Morse code pulses while Virginia was hunting him. If it’s safe enough for Jalen, I’m willing to risk it.”

  I started flicking before Katrina could say anything else. Her stare reeked of cold fury, but I didn’t care.

  The message I sent was simple, but I was confident it would tell Alissa all she needed to know: in the car.

  Alissa jumped when her viser started vibrating. Something was definitely bothering her. She found our car easily—there were several sedans on the street, but only one gliding ahead of her as if looking for an available parking space.

  “Turn down the window tint just enough so she can see our shapes inside the car. That’ll be enough.”

  Katrina didn’t like it, but she did as I ordered. Jalen had apparently kept his word that this would be my show. I had my suspicions about Alissa; I would soon know if my guesses were correct. I’d been wrong about her before, and I was putting a lot of faith in her hatred of highborn even as she walked beside one of them.

  Alissa peered inside the sedan. Recognition registered on her features. I expected shock—instead, I think she was relieved. She said something to Dion. The diminutive highborn girl looked surprised and annoyed, but she turned around and walked away, familiar in tow. Alissa watched her go. Then she walked over to the car, opened the door, and got in without hesitation.

  Alissa stared at me with her perfect almond eyes. She was looking for something in my face. Knowledge, perhaps. I’m not sure what she thought she found. When Alissa finished inspecting me, she took a long, hard look at each of my companions.

  “Daniela and two strangers… fancy meeting you here.”

  Alissa tried to sound casual, but I knew her well enough to know it was forced. She was scared.

  “Let’s get moving,” I said to Katrina.

  “I was worried about you,” Alissa said.

  “Why?”

  “You and Nythan and Alexander have been missing for over a week, during which time a war has broken out. Arik hates you, hates Alexander, and everyone knows he’s dangerous.” She shifted uneasily. “Lots of people are worried about you.”

  I was about to laugh but managed to stop myself. “Like who?”

  “You’d be surprised. Headmaster Frost-Bell has been making inquiries with the Authority and among the Tuck alumni network. He’s been quite persistent. He does seem rather concerned.”

  “The headmaster?”

  “Not just him. The track team has gotten their parents involved, I’ve heard. Some of them, anyway.”

  My mouth was open, but no words came out.

  “You shouldn’t be so surprised, Daniela. More people respect you than you think. It’s all being done quietly, of course. And they are afraid: Arik roams the halls like royalty, even though he’s new to the school. He controls Rose-Hart Industries now. He’s even organized groups of cronies to prey on the non-highborn students off school grounds—pressuring them to leave to make more space for the deserving. Even the faculty are scared of him, of what he’ll whisper in his mother’s ear. Others seek him out, of course. I’ve seen Anise pawing at him. Mona Lisa made a play too, but she can’t hold a candle to dear Anise Titan-Wind.”

  The mention of the traitor’s name caused every muscle in my body to harden. I remembered how Anise had acted toward Arik when he’d cornered me on the stairs at school before I’d been captured. That sickly-sweet voice she had put on. Anise had said I needed to learn to play the game. I was so jackin’ blind to ever rely on someone like her. “Anise will answer for her crimes.” I vowed it, although I wished I sounded more like Jalen when I said it.

  Alissa nodded, as if she understood what I’d been through. She didn’t. “Anise is a slug, like most of them, but she’s not the only one trying to make sure she’s in the good graces of Virginia and her cronies. Disturbing things have happened since the war broke out. People are worried.” Her voice became strained as she spoke the last.

  “What happened, Alissa?”

  “My father’s gone.”

  My throat tightened. I got the anguish in Alissa’s eyes. “Tell me how.”

  She opened her mouth, then stopped. “Who are these people, Daniela?”

  Katrina was watching warily, like a cat ready to pounce if I said the wrong thing.

  “This is Rhett and Katrina. They are helping me find my brother and some other friends—including Nythan.”

  “I wondered why he wasn’t here. And Alexander. What happened to them?”

  “I believe Nythan and some others are being held at a detention camp in Bronx City.” I sucked in a difficult breath. “Alexander is something to discuss another time.”

  Alissa nodded, as if she had been expecting this conversation. “Fishkill. I’ve heard of it. Lots of people are there, is the rumor.” Alissa looked at each of us again, making her deductions, her calculations. “Why did you come to me? I must have something you want.”

  My eyes met Katrina’s, telling her to trust my judgment. She gave me a reluctant blink of assent. “There was a drone—a very special one built by RocketDyn—that landed very briefly on the roof of Tuck last night. I remember your father saying he worked for RocketDyn. I thought you might know something about it.”

  Alissa’s eyes widened, then she shook her head in resignation. “The odds that a satellite was trained on that location, for that three-minute window, were so small.”

  “It was you?” My hopes rose. I had guessed correctly, for once.

  “Do these people know our history, Daniela?” Alissa asked uneasily. “They have the look of highborn.” She pronounced “highborn” with a slave’s contempt of her master.

  “They are highborn, and they do not know much about us other than we are classmates. But they are against what the government here is trying to do, they are against Virginia Timber-Night. You can trust them—I can vouch for that.” I forced myself not to look at Katrina, whom I didn’t trust. But I needed Alissa’s information.

  Alissa calculated some more, her eyes moving rapidly. “My father told you he worked at RocketDyn as a drone programmer. He’s more than that, of course—I got my brains from him, you know, not some mutation bacteria like the highborn. Several weeks ago he was assigned to a new project, one that demanded almost round-the-clock hours. On the rare nights I saw him, he was bleary-eyed, shaking from the stimulants he was taking to keep going. But at least he came home. He wouldn’t talk to me about what he was working on—for my own good, he said. He told me he didn’t know himself, only that he was on the periphery of something important to the company. His job was at stake if he didn’t hit his deadlines. I could tell my mom was nervous, even though she put on a brave face for me.”

  Katrina’s eyes bore into Alissa as she spoke. I wondered if she had a secure line to Jalen and the Southern government so she could report anything important she learned. Probably.

  “A week ago, my father stopped coming home. We got a single ping that his team was isolating themselves for a few days. He hasn’t answered his viser since. We’ve had no contact.”

  “A week ago… that’s around when Virginia’s coup happened. He could still be working on the project. Something very secret.”

  Alissa shook her head vigorously. “My father would never go this long without contacting mom and me, no matter what RocketDyn wanted. Not voluntarily. But that’s not what made me certain he is being held somewhere against his will. Rumors have been circulating of disappearances, people going missing.” She swallowed uneasily. “People from California. That desperate little highborn girl you just saw me with—Dion—her father is a functionary with the Authority. I put a virus that feeds me information on her family’s home network, so I know this is happening. They end up at Fulton Fishkill.”

  Alissa was frightened, something I’d never seen from her before—at least not like this. She had always been brilliant, always had a plan.
And she’d always had her parents. I had envied that. To her, the idea of losing one of them was probably like my losing Mateo, or worse. I’d always known Mateo was in jeopardy, but Alissa had probably thought her father was invincible. She’d do anything to find him, I realized.

  “That’s why you took down the drone.”

  “How?” Katrina asked, the steely skepticism in her voice irking me. She didn’t know Alissa.

  “Nythan isn’t the only smart kid at Tuck.”

  Katrina didn’t blink. She was studying Alissa intensely. Spy training at work. “I don’t doubt it. But how did you bring down a classified surveyor drone? Something you learned about their systems from your father, perhaps?”

  “As Daniela will tell you, there are some unique things about Tuck. One is that you can’t use the net on Tuck property. There’s a dampening field generator on the top floor, the only one in private hands in the whole country. I redirected its field at the drone, cutting it off from its command network: no instructions, no course data, no feed. And yes, I found the standard transmission encryption code for the RocketDyn surveyor drone flight systems in one of my father’s logs. With those two things, I was able to order the drone down.”

  “And with its transmission systems blocked by the dampening field, the operators had no idea what happened to it,” Katrina reasoned. “A couple of minutes of feed might not even be noticed if there are a large number of these things operating.”

  “I guessed it was unlikely that the Northern government would waste satellite surveillance resources monitoring their own capital. So even if they knew it blacked out, they wouldn’t know where or how. The Southern States can’t have round-the-clock satellite coverage of Manhattan either, and it was only three minutes. I hoped I’d get lucky and no one would know. It was a risk, but it’s my father.”