by Mary Weber
Jerrad bent back over the see-through screens and studied each one himself. He took a sip of organic coffee, then shook his head and straightened. “We’ll keep looking, but I just don’t see how. It’s like an entirely different language hundreds of years ahead of us. And even with the amount of their tech we use—it’s only because they’ve enabled it.” He set his cup down and looked meaningfully at her.
The first officer adjusted her unnecessary fashion glasses. “And if there really was an alert set off from the shuttle, it’s far more likely Sofi’d be the victim rather than the perpetrator—if you get me?”
Inola tipped her chin. Yes, she knew what they meant. She and Jerrad also knew more than what they meant.
She waved at her handcomp. “In that case, aside from Sofi, who could hack my server that thoroughly?”
“Honestly?” The second officer cleared her throat and side-eyed the others. “Maybe two of the other Corps. Six people in the world, including a few underground gamers.”
That’s what she thought. Inola looked at Jerrad. “I want the team focused on the planet without drawing attention to themselves, looking for any tidbit they can find. See if there’s any crack in the Delonese shield or evidence of data transfers.”
“Yes, madam.”
“Because, Jerrad”—she softened her tone—“something’s going to happen.”
“Ma’am, is this to do with Sofi?”
Inola turned to the Second. It had everything to do with Sof—
Boom!
An explosion went off beneath the window. Jerrad lunged for Inola, yanking her away from the glass just as a set of sparks lit up the afternoon sky and all four of the room’s occupants hit the floor. Another explosion erupted. Followed by another shower of sparks—this time farther from the pane.
“Fireworks,” Jerrad breathed out after a minute. “Blasted tourists.”
Inola caught her breath as he released her and helped her up. She straightened her suit jacket as they moved to look down at the street where the crowds were indeed setting off fireworks. Except these weren’t just the FanFight kind. This group was full of alien protestors, holding their signs and masks and bullhorns.
“They’re preparing to march,” the first officer observed. “The Altered invention’s got them worked up.”
Jerrad leaned into the glass, assessing the gathering, then peered back at the two officers. “Please give us the room.”
When the First and Second had shut the door behind them, Jerrad looked at Inola. “I hate to say it, but the fact that Sofi’s been labeled a terrorist who’s being harbored by the Delonese—”
She was already nodding. “Not my most flattering moment, but it’ll pass.”
“I’m talking about your safety. I think it’d be best to stay out of the public eye. At least until—”
She laughed. Until what? Until they could unravel this? She sniffed. Welcome to politics. She shook her head. “I’m not going to hide, Jerrad. That would only empower the politicians. They feed on weakness like wolves.” Inola reached up to smooth her long black hair back into place. “Gaines may want my position, but she’s not foolish enough to sacrifice her reputation. That’s precisely why she ordered the bombing in the first place—to cover our private business with the Delonese. Her outrageous choice to do it so indiscreetly just proves my point.”
“Respectfully, I’m not so sure of that. And there are other ways to remove you.”
“What, like assassination?” Inola rolled her eyes. “Even she wouldn’t risk the sensitive documents that would release from my life-safe bank. There’s too much incrimination.”
He tipped his head at the crowds below the window. “And what about them? You’re Sofi’s mom. If they catch even the slightest hint of your side project, that mob will eat you alive.”
Inola couldn’t disagree with that.
She studied the sign holders who’d begun heading in the direction of the FanFight Colinade, which stood barely five blocks from her office. In a feat of good old-fashioned human wonder, the contractors had already repaired the coliseum from the explosion. And in another feat of human nature, that same explosion would be all but forgotten today as the Corps tried to distract through continuing the Games.
Feed the citizens on entertainment and they’ll not care what you accomplish in secret. Wasn’t that the age-old creed of the ruling classes?
Wasn’t that the creed she’d lived by?
The tightening in her chest returned as an image passed in front of her eyes—of her children quite possibly fighting on Delon for their very lives. It was only a matter of time. If Shilo was even alive.
Her throat narrowed.
With an inhale she cracked her neck and cleared her voice as an ad across the street suddenly sprang to life. A group of young girls appeared to be pointing up at the FanFight announcement regarding the Games’ big finale—the Final Five. The ad was offering suggestions for people to get their votes in for whichever celebrity they’d like to see pitted tomorrow against the player who won tonight. Like everything else, tomorrow’s finale contestants were audience chosen.
The ad flipped through faces of past politicians, musicians, and i-reality stars—all of whom had fought and failed in the ultimate match. The only difference was, whichever four celebrities were picked for the final round only participated if they agreed. They always did, of course. The promises of more fame and a slightly easier game were too enticing to decline.
The girls watching the ad suddenly began jumping up and down as nineteen-year-old Ambassador Miguel’s face graced the screen, followed by his physique striking different poses across business and entertainment magazines. Titles like “How He Does It” and “Earth’s #1 Bachelor—Is He Secretly Celibate?” scrolled beneath them.
She frowned. And studied Miguel’s face.
Last night Gaines told her she’d been blackmailing both Ambassadors Alis and Miguel to keep the blame off Corp 30, but to Inola, his behavior had seemed as brazen as ever. It was how he kept the public adoring him, from what she’d seen. Always front and center of their attention.
And now he was on Delon with her daughter.
Where is he in all this?
She eyed the FanFight Colinade in the distance.
Where do I need to be in all this?
Sliding her handscreen into her jacket pocket, she peered up at Jerrad. “Thank you for the warning. But I think I may have something different in mind.”
“Miss?”
“I’ll be attending the FanFight Game. Please have them bring the car around.”
He nodded and turned, but before he could issue the order, a robotic voice chimed across the four comp-screens in the room. “CEO Inola, please hold for a message from Delonese Ambassador Ethos.”
8
SOFI
“Behind you!”
Without thinking Sofi flattened against the cold honeycomb wall as a group of Delonese guards appeared and rushed past her ghosted body, their footsteps softly muted like hers on the metal surface.
Good catch.
“Now head over fifty steps.”
Sofi didn’t move. Just panted to catch her breath, then tapped her earcom. “Hello?”
No sound. She waited for a reply, and when it didn’t come, whispered louder, “Hellooo.”
Nothing.
She frowned. The voice directing her was the same she’d heard earlier, but how could she be hearing Shilo? She was starting to believe it wasn’t a voice at all, just her mind. Or more specifically, her old memories. This is how bad the Delonese jacked you up, Sof. You’re hearing your own memories from years ago.
Just like the memories she’d had the past few days of Shilo. Now she was imagining his voice.
Only thing was—thus far they’d been eerily accurate.
She clenched her jaw and jogged ahead, looking for anything familiar. Ignoring the throbbing in her palm and the guilty knowledge that Miguel had just sacrificed himself for her. Admittedly t
o an environment he was skilled at, but still . . . She flicked her gaze down to her handscreen, to compare her position to the surface map. The awareness dug in all the deeper that he had simply bought her time.
The only way she could help him now was the same way she could help everyone else stuck in this terror—hack the system, shut it down, and get them all back to Earth.
And then expose wide open Delon’s horrific secrets.
Which meant there was no way any of them were making it out of here alive.
She pursed her lips. She was good, but . . .
Fifty steps over, she hit a second near-empty section that appeared much older. The white walls not as white, the lights not as bright, the lab rooms sitting empty. The smell of medical death was still there, though, casting a pall over everything.
“Make a right and follow the catacomb rooms to the end. Take a left at the fork and you’ll find another hall.”
She shook her head, but obeyed. The voice was right, of course. That path would bring her a few hundred yards from the barracks, if her comp was correct. She found the fork and took a left.
“At the end there’s a shaft.”
The hall dead-ended into a shaft fitted with a thin black ladder leading upward. She glanced around. They had to be joking. This thing was beyond old skool for how tech savvy the whole place was.
Didn’t matter—she’d take it. Scaling the rungs as fast as she could, Sofi kept her breath even as she headed up the three stories toward an unknown outlet, through what quickly turned into an all-encompassing metal tube of darkness. Kind of like crawling inside a worm.
Great image, Sofi. Gad.
She moved faster.
Something flickered around her, and abruptly a red light was flashing in her eyes. What the—? She squinted, and the next second her head hit the ceiling. She flipped her handcomp light on to reveal a square metal hatch barely wider than her body.
She shoved it. Nothing. Then tried multiple sides, pushing against the lip around the edges, but the thing wouldn’t budge.
Bracing her back against one side of the tube and her legs against the ladder, Sofi shoved one hand against the lid and, with the other, waved her handcomp over what appeared to be a kind of sensor pad.
The lid hissed, squealed, and flipped up, sending a gush of icy air and snowflakes in so quickly it nearly knocked Sofi loose. She gripped her handcomp tighter and climbed the last few rungs, then shoved her head and shoulders through the opening into the outside air of the planet’s surface.
The snow around her was thick and so cold it burned to the touch without her fingers leaving an imprint in it. Huh. Sofi turned an almost 360-degree circle to take in the vast surroundings from her little pothole that sat smack in the center of the large fenced-in compound she and the others had snuck through earlier. And beyond that, an entire world of white snow-dusted ground and rich blue skies.
Beautiful. Pristine. The place was a winter wonderland as far as her eyes could see. An ice-entrenched landscape of fog-covered mountains in the distance and, closer in, trees. Nearer still were the rows of barracks inside the enormous fenced-in area that made up the entirety of the capital. And to her left inside that area? The main building she needed. Three stories high and the sides all flat with no frills. Like the design of a cult fortress she’d once seen in Old Canada. With windows scattered here and there and an assembly of massive shuttle bays attached at the end.
The bays.
She looked up for the shuttle—but found nothing besides blue skies and white clouds. Then, with a glance at her suit’s ghosting features, stuck her comp in her mouth and slid her hands up to grip the metal lip and hoist herself out.
Two seconds later, a siren went off.
Seriously? She yanked her legs the rest of the way out and slammed the hatch shut behind her while simultaneously gauging the distance between her and the main bay. That’s where she needed to be.
Deep breath. Aiming her comp map in the direction of the first barrack, she brought up layers of lights that slashed across the screen, indicating the camera vid placements between her, the rows of army-looking barracks, and the main building. “Trace that pattern if you want to get to the main building unseen,” she’d told Miguel earlier.
Her chest winced over what might be happening to him right now.
Stop, Sof. It won’t help.
She cracked her neck and took off amid the teeth-chattering cold and that blasted alarm ringing—and covered the yards to the first rectangular barrack in seven seconds flat. When she looked back, there were no footprints. Just like she’d left no fingerprints in the snow. Which was a relief, considering eight guards suddenly appeared and hurried past just as she reached the building’s edge.
She lurched back as they surged forward to search the area in front of her. Hunching against the wall, she held her breath to keep it from fogging the air. Then watched as they moved on to check the ground around the hatch.
The wind picked up, slashing her skin, and Sofi gave a soft exhale, followed by a puff of white air. The guards were continuing on to the edge of the clearing to look at something over in the forest. She slid around to the building’s metal corner and calculated the next run. She could almost hear the FanFight team asking if she was ready, like they did so many times each round.
A low rumble overhead vibrated the snowy ground under her feet.
The aerial growl was followed by a flash, and abruptly the shuttle was visible overhead. Its reflective surface glinted against the blue atmosphere, catching the bright sunlight, and Sofi’s spine about ripped in half. The kids—Miguel’s friends. Vic had been right. The ship they’d sent up with the Earth’s other ambassadors, Danya and Claudius—the latter being Miguel’s best friend—and the twenty children, was plowing at high speed through the atmosphere toward the ground.
It’s what the guards had been staring at.
Oh. Oh please, no.
She could hear Miguel swearing in her head.
Sofi attacked her handscreen. Her hands desperate. Panicky. “Vic, I’m trying to hack in and redirect it,” she said just in case the AI could hear.
The Delonese guards were shouting across the area and abruptly the alarm shut off. One pointed at the far tree line, and they all quickly turned on their heels to hurry back to wherever they’d come from. Leaving Sofi to watch the shuttle fall like a star from the sky, backlit on one side by the distant sun and the other by the giant man in the moon, as the ship sparked and shot off flares that evaporated into the air and snow.
Her handscreen reconnected with the system she’d opened earlier. Her fingers fumbled through the coding, while her mind screamed she wasn’t fast enough, couldn’t do enough without being plugged in, as she heard the thing dropping . . .
down
down
down.
She felt the sob escape her lips, accompanied by a clouded wisp of horror when she glanced back up. It took everything in her not to rush out and—do what? Stand beneath it? Physically stop it? Her mouth went sour as her helplessness and hatred for the Delonese spiraled.
Please just look away. Oh gad, Sofi, freaking look away.
But the image of that vessel holding all those kids falling from the atmosphere kept her rooted and swiping at her screen furiously, trying to force her way back into the original shuttle’s system. If they had to live it in this moment, then she could bleeding well stand here like a ghost and watch it.
Her hands refused to give up trying to crack the firewalls even though Vic was right: Delon had shut down all access to it. Clenching the comp tighter, she went back to sliding code after code aside as she waited for the explosion to rock the planet and for the ground beneath her to shudder with flesh-infused flames bursting up to rip through the treetops and lick at the sky and landscape. Just like the sense of futility was tearing through her because she could only imagine the fear those little hearts must be feeling.
It kept falling, faster. Heavier.
Along with Claudius and Danya.
Sofi moved back to brace for impact.
She waited.
It didn’t come.
When she peered up, the shuttle had slammed to a stop in midair fifty yards in front of her, ten feet off the ground.
Sofi hedged forward, unsure whether to be relieved or to prepare for it to burst into flames. A moment later the shuttle righted itself and swung into proper military formation. Then slowly, meticulously, flew in a straight line toward one of the smaller shuttle bays attached to the far side of the main building.
“Bloody heck,” she choked out.
With a loud swoosh the warehouse door slid up, the shuttle went in, and the door swished closed behind it. And Sofi eased against the barrack wall to release the tension in her neck before pulling out her handscreen to check for surface life-forms now on the planet. They were there—twenty-four tiny red dots, representing the humans now in the shuttle bay. Surrounded by multiple large groupings of blue dots indicating the Delonese.
They are okay. The kids are going to be okay.
For the next few minutes, anyway.
She peered up at the sky and then took off in the direction of that shuttle bay. Until something lodged in her periphery from the edge of the horizon covered in hillsides and fir-looking trees. A massive fog like she’d seen with Miguel yesterday morning was rolling in. Not in a whisper, but in a cloud moving as a tidal wave across the landscape.
Sofi swung her gaze over. Except this one was different. The color was off and a strange smell permeated the air coming ahead of it, reminding her . . .
The entire left side of her body prickled. It reminded her of the poison gas Shilo faced at last year’s FanFight game. And it was headed straight for the compound.
It was headed for her.
Sofi peeked at the surface map again and kept running through the vast white-covered area inside the fences.
Past the open space, past the barracks, through the thin powdered snow in a zigzag pattern to avoid the sensors picking up her movements. The handscreen guided her steps, while her head begged the ghosting feature to hold up against the thickening moisture.