It was past six so I tucked my notes up my sleeve and headed for the recpod.
Marta was in the change room. “The boys are waiting for us at the track. We’ll run the course. Later we can eat at Swigs.” She nodded discreetly toward the ceiling.
Newly mounted cameras were evenly spaced along the wall. I grabbed my track clothes and headed into the washroom. I checked the stall. If there were cameras, they were cleverly concealed.
Despite Marta’s reference to ‘the boys’, I was surprised to see Weyland. All skinny appendages, he looked like an overgrown insect in his black outfit.
We started to run abreast, but Weyland fell in behind me.
“What’s going on?” Jarryd laughed when he saw Weyland matching my every stride.
I understood the strange behavior. “He told me it’s how he is able to move quickly, by following body movements.”
“Mind over matter.” Weyland huffed between words. “Brynna Bokk is a good runner.”
“Just don’t get any ideas, buddy,” teased my brother.
Over my shoulder, I saw Weyland blush, but he kept his focus on me.
I was getting used to it.
After track, we conquered the obstacle course. Then the boys left to swim. Marta took me to the archery range. My aim was good and I soon had the knack of it. Marta was a pro.
“Is there archery in the Steepchase?”
“Not with the usual circular targets. But you have to be able to hit a specific mark. It’s different every year. You might even have to climb a tree with your bow to get close enough.”
“I love trees.” I clapped my hands, which made her laugh.
We practiced for a while, then stowed our bows and arrows and walked to the aquatic zone.
Two men were racing the length of the pool. I recognized Jarryd but was surprised when the other man popped up after winning. It was Weyland.
“Wow, buddy, you’re a fish.” Jarryd sent a splash of water toward Weyland. “Bryn, I think we have your new swimming coach right here.”
I’d been dreading having to learn from a stranger. Somehow, learning from Weyland seemed more comfortable. I trusted him and wasn’t afraid to expose my vulnerability.
“Will you teach me, Weyland?” I felt momentarily brave.
“Yes, Brynna Bokk. Starting tomorrow.”
My stomach clenched at the word. So much for bravado.
“Now that’s settled. Let’s get changed and meet at Swigs.” Jarryd pulled himself from the pool.
On our way to the women’s change room, we noticed a crowd gathered outside Swigs.
“What’s happened?” Marta was too short to see over the heads.
I stood on my toes to get a better view when a hard shove sent me stumbling. Marta grabbed my arm to keep me upright.
“Outta the way.” It was the malicious guard from the seventh floor. He held his weapon horizontally and pushed its hard length against us.
“I’ll do crowd control.” A second guard appeared, also carrying a weapon. “Get back to the entrance.” The men faced off. Green eyes bored into mean ones. It was the second guard from Prince’s detail.
I tensed, fearing a physical confrontation, but mean eyes growled and strode away.
Green eyes focused on me. “You and your friends should leave. Now.”
His voice was stern, but there was no malice in his gaze. I sensed a connection and didn’t feel frightened or threatened. Instead, I felt compelled to smile.
“Yes, Sir.” I mocked a salute and watched his lips twitch. “Let’s go, Marta.” I grabbed her arm and made for the change room.
“Brynna, are you crazy? You could have been arrested,” whispered Marta. “He’s one of Delio’s personal guards, and dangerous. Why did you do that?”
I couldn’t tell her that I felt safe with him, that I knew he wasn’t dangerous. That he awakened new sensations and feelings in me. How could I explain what I didn’t understand?
I motioned to the cameras. “We can’t talk here,”
She nodded.
Like a good future sister-in-law, she didn’t tell my brother about the incident with the guard, but she did tell him about the ruckus at Swigs.
“Yes, I heard from another swimmer there was a graffiti incident. We need to find someplace else to talk,” said Jarryd. “Somewhere we won’t be noticed.”
“The market,” said Marta. “There’s a small projection room at the back of the theater. There won’t be any screenings today because the video equipment is broken and I doubt there are cameras there.”
“How do you know that?”
“An artist friend is the projectionist. I can get the key and we can sneak in through the back door. Most people will be across the market at the café. It’ll be dark around the theater.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
The lovebirds paired up. Weyland loped along beside me.
As Marta had predicted, one end of the market was crowded and bright, the other dark and deserted. She slipped away from us and returned moments later with a key. We strolled along into the dimming light until we reached the theater. One by one, we slipped through a narrow alleyway and through the door into the projection room.
“This is great,” said Jarryd after checking for closed-circuit cameras. “And private.”
“Yes, but unfortunately it’s usually used every night until ten.” Marta started to speak then shook her head.
“What?” Jarryd prompted.
“I was thinking about an after-hours rendezvous, but it might be dangerous, especially with cameras and extra guards in the market.”
“But a possibility if we’re desperate.” Jarryd nodded. “Now let’s review what we know. Bryn? Did you discover anything?”
“I went through the archives. There was no mention of any threat so I decided to check Delio’s trips to Nuvega over the last year along with the dates of his meetings with the Genetrix.” I took out my list and showed the others.
“That’s smart thinking. We may be able to link those dates with other events. What about you, Marta? Have you heard anything more from your father?”
“Not a word. But I made contact with my mother. She’s in touch with other councilors’ wives. There’s increased hostility between Delio and your father. Neither side is willing to compromise.”
It didn’t surprise me that Father would stand firm against Delio, but after the drone appearance at home, I feared for his safety. I could see Marta’s information had affected Jarryd as well. Silence shrouded us, but not for long.
“Did you discover anything, Jarryd?” I asked.
His blank gaze swept our faces, then he cleared his throat and spoke.
“Weyland did some digging into Delio’s files, but they’re heavily encrypted. I put out feelers to friends in other departments. The men I spoke with resent the council’s secrecy and are determined to find the truth. Whoever released the information about the CMEs did us a big favor.”
“Any idea about the informant?” I suspected someone from the sci-lab.
“Haven’t heard a whisper,” said Jarryd. “Considering the love of gossip in this city, I’m surprised.”
“What’s our next move?” Marta asked.
“Oh, I forgot to mention that Dench caught me snooping in the archives and gave me a warning.”
“Okay, then you’re out for now. So is Weyland since we can’t get into Delio’s files. All we can do is wait and see what my contacts turn up. Perhaps the added pressure of vandalism will force Delio into making mistakes. If he is trying to dupe the council, we still need proof.” Disappointment hung in the air. “Gathering information may take some time. We have to be patient.
We exited into the alley. Marta secured the door. We parted from her outside the theater. She continued to her dorm as we strolled through the marketplace. Noisy patrons still gathered outside the café. I pulled my hood further forward when I noticed a group of guards.
Jarryd saw them too. “Let’s pick up
the pace.”
We hurried to the dorms in silence. Before we parted, Weyland’s reminder added to my worries.
“Swimming tomorrow, Brynna Bokk.”
I’d forgotten our agreement. Even with him as my teacher, the prospect of getting into the water made me cringe.
“I’ve never been able to conquer my fear.” The admission of weakness was difficult.
“Mind over body,” said Weyland with a wide, infectious smile.
14
Rebel Attack
A high-pitched noise blasted through the dormpod.
I buried my head under my pillow anticipating pain until I realized it wasn’t a dream. The full moon was almost a month away.
It was a siren.
Seconds later, the door of our room slammed open. Sleepiness and shock pushed everything into slow motion.
“Jubas on and outside. Hurry.” The Podmaster’s assistant was a tiny uptight woman who rarely opened her pursed lips except to lick them. Then, her thin tongue flicked out like a snake’s testing for scent.
Two roommates scurried past me as I pulled my juba over my head.
“Can you help me?” It was my shy roommate, Rebecca, who worked on the tenth floor. She struggled with the metal clasps on her leg braces.
I hesitated, knowing she was fiercely independent. “What can I do?”
She nodded toward her leg. “One of the clasps is bent.”
Together we were able to secure the brace.
“Thanks.” She smiled then tested her balance.
“We’d better get outside.” I matched her limping progress toward the exit.
The size of the crowd was astonishing. I’d never considered how many people resided in the dormpods. Hundreds spilled into the tube toward the foodpod. I wove through the gathering of sleepy workers, huddled in groups. No one seemed to know why we had been roused from our beds.
Rebecca headed for a group of women. I searched for Jarryd. When I spied Weyland I joined him.
“Any idea what’s going on?” I echoed the question most were asking.
“Maybe.” He linked his arm with mine. “Come.”
We shoved our way through the packed tube toward the foodpod. My steps were restricted to half the length of his because of my juba.
“Where are we going?” I went quiet when I saw my brother. Beyond him, the walls of the beige dining hall were marred with red. Daubs of crimson paint cut through the councilors’ portraits and thick, dripping letters spelled—LIARS!
Maintenance workers attempted to obliterate the paint with large mops, but the smears only heightened the impact of the offense.
I froze, shocked at the sight. The violence of the graffiti was beyond my experience. We suspected Delio’s treachery, but perhaps someone knew more than we did.
“Let’s go before the guards arrive,” said Jarryd. “They won’t like us seeing this.” He herded us back toward the dorm and others around us followed.
“I still don’t understand why they pulled us out of bed.”
“To search the dorms for evidence,” he whispered.
“Evidence of what?” Did I have something in my locker that was against the rules? My heart beat faster even though I couldn’t think of anything.
“Red paint,” said Jarryd. “Or someone hiding in the dorm.” He must have sensed that my sleepy brain hadn’t comprehended. “The paint is fresh. The perpetrators have to be somewhere nearby.”
“What about the cameras?”
“They painted them red as well.”
“Guards.” Weyland pointed.
A double column of the Premier’s men parted the tight throng in the tube as they advanced toward the dormpod. I searched for the one I knew, but black helmets concealed their features. I cringed when I saw them carrying clubs and shields. Even the sound of their boots was ominous.
The fear and uncertainty were palpable. Following instructions, we crouched on the floor. Waves of information crisscrossed the crowd; most of it, I suspected, was erroneous. Rumors that they’d found the culprit vied with speculation that the attackers were not Hyporians.
“What do you think, Jarryd?” I spoke softly. “Could it be someone from outside Hypor?”
“There’s no way an outsider could enter the main entrance unseen.”
His tone made me think he’d given this some thought. “Are there other entrances?”
“Underwater,” murmured Weyland. His eyes were closed, but he’d been listening, not asleep, as I’d suspected.
My brother responded quietly. “They’d need the engineering specs of the city. There are ways to get in through access doors to mechanical rooms and solar collection stations. Most domes have emergency escape routes as well. But the underwater routes are difficult to utilize. It would take a highly trained group and extensive planning to infiltrate the city from below.”
“Guards again.” Weyland scrambled to his feet and the rest of the crowd followed.
Silence prevailed as the armed militia exited our sleeping quarters. There was a collective sigh of relief when they departed the way they’d come. I wasn’t the only one who’d felt threatened by their appearance.
“They didn’t find anything,” Jarryd assured us.
“How do you know?” His confidence puzzled me.
He didn’t answer. The crowd condensed and we inched toward the dorms.
Weyland peered over the surrounding heads, craning his head and neck forward before swiveling toward us. He focused on Jarryd. “Searching the men.”
My brother’s lips formed a rigid streak. Jaw muscles contracted as his eyes narrowed. Our eyes locked. His determined, icy gaze met my questioning concern. Dread tightened my chest. Suddenly I knew the truth. My brother was involved in the revolt to overthrow Premier Delio.
“What can I do?” The words were out before I’d considered the consequences. My mouth was dry, my hands were clammy, and my legs shaky but the instinct to protect my brother was powerful. We were family.
I could see his hesitation.
“I can help.” I gritted my teeth and stood straighter, as much to convince myself as him.
“You’re my sister and a woman. Too young.” His voice in agony, he shook his head.
“Not too young to die.” My heart responded, expressing the gravity of what we were all facing. “Let me help.”
A surge by the mob pushed him into action. “Okay.” His hand brushed mine then held it as he pressed a wadded paper against my palm. “Hide this until you’re by yourself, then get rid of it.”
I brushed my hand into my hair and dropped the wad into the back of my hood. My brother and I exchanged tense smiles. I didn’t know what was on the paper, but I knew I was taking a big risk.
At the front of the line, the Podmaster searched Jarryd then Weyland. I saw Rebecca at the women’s entrance and joined the queue. Blood throbbed in my ears. I stumbled slightly.
“Move on, Bokk,” hissed the assistant. “Some of us want to sleep.”
I went through with no fuss.
Inside, I ignored my roommates and made for the toilets. Locked in a stall, adrenaline shook my hands as I retrieved the paper from my hood. Bleary-eyed, I stared at the note, but couldn’t make sense of the strange code. The outer door opened. With the message fixed in my memory, I dropped the paper into the toilet and flushed.
A click accompanied the faltering steps.
“Are you okay, Brynna?” It was Rebecca.
“Yes, just a queasy stomach. Thanks. I’ll be fine.”
The door opened and closed again.
In the silence, I pondered what the note could mean and what might happen next. When I finally climbed into bed, I predicted a sleepless night, but I was wrong.
“Get up, Brynna. You’re going to be late.” A roommate shook my shoulder.
I hadn’t heard the morning alarm. Disheveled and unwashed, I missed breakfast but arrived at work in time to hear Calia’s remarks.
“You girls could put in a lit
tle effort.” Her black rimmed eyes were like dark holes against her light powdered skin. “You’ll never get anywhere looking the way you do.”
Two other workers had entered the media lab with me, but I knew her attack was directed at me. I didn’t respond. Besides, if looking like a corpse was the way to get someone like Prince Delio, I’d rather not.
Another woman approached Calia. It was the one Carrot had nicknamed ‘Suck up Sue.’
“Your earrings are beautiful,” said Sue.
“These old things?” Calia pulled back her hair for a better display.
“Ooh! I love the gold knot and the pearl dangling from it,” Sue gushed. “They look old. Are they an heirloom?”
Calia hesitated and glanced my way before responding. “No, a gift.” She drifted to her station.
Sue followed her. Carrot imitated a begging puppy.
“Get to work.” Dench’s screech rivaled the previous night’s siren.
Tired and unfocused, I let routine take over. I translated only what was necessary, thankful when six o’clock arrived.
That evening, I went to the recpod hoping to see Jarryd and Marta but was disappointed. Weyland wasn’t there either, so no swimming lessons. Just as well, I needed sleep more than exercise.
Back in my room, I fell asleep quickly and dreamed of home and my favorite perch with Circe. The dreamscape faded when the siren shrieked and a hand prodded my shoulder.
“Get up, Bokk. Juba on and outside,” shouted the Podmaster’s assistant.
“What’s going on? Another inspection?” I couldn’t believe it was happening again. Concern for Jarryd’s safety pushed my pulse into overdrive. I followed Rebecca and the others from our room.
Once outside, I noted that only women were crowded around the entrance. One woman protested loudly at her lack of sleep, others joined in.
“Has there been more graffiti?” I asked one of the dissenters.
“No, another theft.”
I released the breath I’d been unconsciously holding. “Have there been many? I’ve been away on break.”
The Last Singer (The Falcon Chronicles Book 1) Page 10