The Girl Who Dared to Think 5: The Girl Who Dared to Lead

by Forrest, Bella

  “I’m not risking it,” I said. “It’s too dangerous. I’m not losing anyone else to that thing.”

  “Liana!” Tian gasped, sitting forward. “Jang-Mi’s not a thing!”

  I almost said something snarky, but caught myself just in time. Tian was attached to Jang-Mi, thanks to her time as a prisoner of the deranged AI fragment, and way more forgiving than I could be at this moment. “You’re right, Tian,” I said, the words leaving an acrid taste on my tongue. “I’m sorry, but the fact remains that you’ll have to find somewhere else to put Jang-Mi. She’s not going in the terminal.” The last part I directed at Leo, and hated myself for doing it. But I also couldn’t seem to stop or change my feelings about this, at all.

  His brown eyes grew hard, and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded. I looked around the room and sighed. It seemed I still had a long way to go before I was all right, but I could work on this Jang-Mi thing. I just needed more time to get comfortable with the idea that she wasn’t to blame.

  “All right, gang, let’s go ahead and get settled in. Feel free to use anything you want in here—I’m giving you full permissions—and I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

  “The morning?” Zoe asked, looking up. “Where will you be?”

  “Well, before she goes anywhere,” Quess interjected before I could formulate my response, “she’s going to sit down and let me change out her net with Lacey’s legacy net.” At my surprised look, he smiled sadly. “I had some time to work on it, and with Leo’s help, we figured out how she was preventing you from retaining certain memories. It should be fixed now, but the only way to know is to put it back in and see how it works. I can do it now.”

  I realized he was talking about the time after my mother had died, and had a moment of sadness of my own, but pushed it aside, focusing on what he was saying. Of course I wanted him to, but I worried about someone discovering it when I went in tomorrow. “I have to go to the Medica for the transmitter,” I said. “Won’t they notice?”

  He frowned. “Hey, Cornelius. Where does a neural transmitter get placed?”

  “In the temple,” the computer replied a heartbeat later.

  Quess grinned. “Then you should be fine. They’d have to cut it out to notice that it was different. So… do you want it now, or would you rather wait?”

  I smiled—I definitely wanted him to do it now. There was important information about this legacy war on it, and I needed every bit of information I could get. Lacey was hiding something, and I was betting something on here revealed what that was. “Absolutely,” I told him, turning around and moving my hair away from my neck. “I’m ready.”

  Quess chuckled, and I heard him rustle around behind me, while Zoe came around to face me. “Okay… but what about after that?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “What are you going to do all day?”

  “I’ll be in my room,” I replied, my elation quickly transforming into exhaustion at the fact that I still wasn’t done, yet I felt good that I could at least distract myself with something germane. “I have to get ready for my council meeting tomorrow.”

  9

  I woke up early the next morning and got ready quickly, eager to do at least one good thing today. I’d been up late going over the other issues for the council meeting and writing messages to Lacey with questions about them, and I wanted to see if she’d gotten back to me yet.

  I made a quick cup of tea in the kitchen, and then carried it and the savory breakfast tart that Cornelius ordered from a nearby cafeteria—which had been delivered by one of the robotic arms before my tea had finished steeping—into the war room. I climbed the steps tiredly, and then sat down at the table, setting my tea and tart to one side and dusting off my fingers.

  “Cornelius, pull up the schedule and my messages, please,” I requested, picking up my cup and taking a sip.

  The screen on the desk immediately split into two different sections, the left side filling with messages, and the right one with my schedule. The council meeting was marked in gold, with my appointment in the Medica marked right after it. The rest of the time was denoted as Champion Transition Period, which I had learned from Cornelius was the month I was given as a break from normal duties so that I could familiarize myself with what those would be. I was expected to spend time with the Knight Commanders under me in order to start forming professional relationships with them, and consult with the other councilors about what to expect on the council.

  I leaned forward, taking another sip of tea before setting the mug down, and then studied my messages. There were actually quite a few, some of them from people I had known at the Academy, offering their condolences, congratulating me for winning, or condemning me for cheating. I quickly asked Cornelius to separate messages like that into three separate folders, with the negative messages being marked as priority. Anyone who sent hate mail was a potential enemy that I needed to keep an eye on. The congratulatory ones I deleted, with no small amount of bitterness. I didn’t like the idea of being congratulated for something that had cost my mother her life. The other ones I ignored, unable to look at their words without falling to pieces. Maybe later, but now? No way.

  Three in particular caught my eye, though, thanks to the authors. One was from Lacey, one was from my brother, and the last one was as surprising as it was pleasing to see. The corners of my lips twitched slightly as I reread the name there, and I automatically opened it, curious as to what he had to say.

  Hey Liana,

  I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for what happened to your mother. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but I’m here if you ever need to talk.

  I know you probably don’t want to hear this. I mean… you’re going through all this stuff right now, and how you make me feel doesn’t help you in the slightest, but I still want to tell you that you’ve given me hope again. Before I watched your incredible climb, I was convinced that an eight was all I would ever be. It filled me with such shame, Liana, because I wanted to be good, but I was clearly being betrayed by my own treasonous thoughts. I now know that if you can overcome your low rank and become the Champion, then one day I will be able to do so as well.

  I thank you for that gift, and look forward to proudly serving under you one day as a Knight Commander, once I’ve proven my worth to you.

  Sincerely,

  Theo

  I smiled sadly. Theo was the first boy I had ever liked, the first one I had kissed, even. We’d bonded over our poor ranks, and then lost touch right after he graduated from the Academy. I ran into him again a while later, and his rank had improved dramatically, thanks to the Medica’s intervention services and the big, fat, red pills marked MSM-7.

  Theo was exactly the reason why the ranking system was so reprehensible to me: he felt like he was a failure because he hadn’t been able to move past an eight. So he had let the Medica give him pills that wiped away his emotions—which he had because he wasn’t content with the stifling life in the Tower.

  But so what if he couldn’t be happy all the time? That didn’t mean he was a bad person. He was entitled to his feelings for as long as he had them, and to tell him he was bad for being who he was inside was cruel and counterproductive. That was how I felt about the matter, anyhow, and the fact that he was actually thanking me for demonstrating that even those with a low score could actually change was just… very sad.

  I considered his message for a long time, then asked Cornelius to mark it as unread and create a folder between Theo and me for personal correspondence, and instructed him to remind me to respond later. When I had some sort of wisdom or hope to offer him.

  Poor Theo. He just wanted to succeed here, but the very system he ascribed to was keeping him from being happy.

  I turned to the next two messages, and then decided to leave my brother’s for last. I knew he was upset with me, and I understood why. I had cut him out. I needed to find a way to make it up to him, to include him somehow, but I was s
truggling to think of something. He’d want to focus on our mother’s death, with good reason, but I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t fly off the handle. We had to be very careful with our next moves, or else all of us would be exposed.

  I just wasn’t sure how to sum all that up in a message, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with his recriminations about how I was failing him as a sister.

  So I turned to the other. I had sent several messages to Lacey last night, and was disappointed to see only one waiting for me this morning in reply. I clicked on it, thinking that maybe she had just condensed her answers into one message, and then paused when I saw the words written there.

  Liana,

  Direct your messages to Praetor Strum in the future. I have neither the time nor the patience to sort through all of this, and given the number of messages you sent me through the night, I am beginning to think you’re already reneging on your promise to find Ambrose’s killers—since I received messages about everything but that. Messages that clearly took time to research and compose. Time that could’ve been used to do what I’ve told you to do.

  Let me make this perfectly clear. I am not your mentor. You’re in the position of Champion to help us (Strum and me) vote in certain ways, to keep our enemies from destroying the Tower further. All you need to do is vote the same way we do on issues, and focus on finding Ambrose’s killers. That’s it. If you can’t get on board with that, we’ll take our chances with the next Champion.

  Lacey

  I let out an irritated sigh and leaned back in my chair. Lacey’s concern that I was going back on my promise to find Ambrose was understandable, since I had spent a lot of time researching issues and writing her messages last night that had nothing to do with him or that investigation. But the rest of it was not. Didn’t she want me to be an effective leader for my department? Did she think I would just capitulate to her and Strum’s orders without saying anything? If so, she had a rude surprise in store for her, because I was not going to let her dictate every vote to me.

  I considered writing a reply with something to that effect in it, but held off on doing anything until I got through Alex’s message.

  I took a deep breath, and then clicked on it.

  Lily,

  I’m coming by the Citadel later today to visit Dad. I know you won’t come see him, but I am expecting you to sit down with me and tell me exactly what is going on with the investigation. I gave you a day, but I want in on whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll be there from one to two, and don’t give me any crap about being busy. You’re the head of a department now, which means you control your own schedule. Message me back with the location of your new quarters.

  Alex

  P.S. Still miffed at you, but looking forward to seeing your new home. I hear those things are friggin’ cool—at least Dinah says Sadie’s is, anyway—and I’m dying to know. Don’t let me down.

  I smiled at his postscript, glad that he wasn’t furious with me, at least. If he had been, he’d never have included the last bit. The rest of it, however, filled me with anxiety, and I scraped my hands over my face, trying to clear it away. It occurred to me that the last time I had included a family member in a fight, they had died, and suddenly I was beyond terrified for Alex.

  A thousand things could go wrong if I let him in on this. He could jump the gun or lose his patience while we investigated. He could run off full tilt after someone without any backup. He could get caught by the Inquisition snooping around in the mainframe. He could accidentally expose Dinah’s relationship with me.

  Not to mention, working with us would make Sadie suspicious. Hell, just having him in the Citadel to visit my father would make her question his loyalty. I knew Dinah said she could get Sadie to back off by feeding her false intelligence reports on my brother’s movements, but it was naïve to think that Sadie wasn’t having Alex followed or monitored in some way.

  Especially now that I was the Champion. Even if she wasn’t with a legacy group, she wouldn’t like the idea of my brother acting as a potential spy for another department. She would be looking for any excuse to cut him from her department.

  I knew I shouldn’t let any of that bother me. My brother had the ability to reason, and he had the right to be there. I could always let him back in the Knights—as long as he wasn’t found guilty of sedition and terrorism.

  But if I had been this torn up over my mother’s death, how awful would it feel if I lost Alex? He was my twin, my best friend, my brother… I wasn’t sure I could survive his death. I didn’t even want to entertain that possibility.

  So I let fear rule my decision and decided to reply to his message later, with an apology that I was still getting the hang of my new role and had missed his message. He’d be angry, yes, but it’d be a believable excuse. Maybe I could come up with an excuse for a delay on my part, and then, when we finally had something solid, I could bring him in?

  Suddenly something dark moved into my field of vision, and I tensed, my hand going to my baton before I even turned my head to see what it was. Seconds later I let the baton go and exhaled in relief as Leo entered the room, looking alert and neatly dressed in his uniform.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I’m your escort to the meeting this morning, as Maddox has several meetings to take with the Knight Commanders, and Quess has to go take his tests.”

  “How’s Tian occupying herself?” I asked quickly, trying to disguise my earlier alarm by standing up to gather my things. It was a little early, but not so much that I minded leaving now. It would give me time to think about the responses I was going to deliver to Alex, Lacey, and Theo.

  “She’s going to resume her quest for a new Sanctum, just in case we need it sooner rather than later,” he said with a small smile.

  I considered that for a moment, remembering what had happened the last time she went out by herself, but decided not to make an issue of it. Tian had a penchant for getting in and out of any place she wanted to, and I had no doubt that if we forbade her from going, it would only make her want to do it more. It was better not to argue, and hope that she could take care of herself.

  “Right,” I said, putting my brother problem aside. “Shall we?”

  Leo nodded and turned to lead the way, leaving me to follow.

  * * *

  The luxury and richness of the Grounds that made up the bottom floor of the massive atrium where the three core structures hung bothered me, even if the sight managed to take my breath away. Tall, non-fruit-producing trees ran rampant across the floor, rooted deep in soft, rich dirt that had to be at least fifteen feet thick. Artificial waterways and manmade paths cut through them, weaving meandering walkways through the thick vegetation and giving the entire floor a serene and peaceful feeling.

  Peaceful and empty—and devoid of any sign of human movement save our own. Which made sense, considering access to the Grounds was restricted to anyone who had an appointment with the council, or who was there by official invitation, like Leo was as my bodyguard.

  It wasn’t our first time down here. We’d been once before, on the day of our trial. It hadn’t been that long ago—only two weeks, now—but I had never once in that entire time imagined myself returning, and especially not like this. Not with a position that could actually allow me to make positive changes in the Tower.

  “Nervous?” Leo asked as the domed shape of the Council Room drew into view over the tops of the trees. We headed toward it, crossing a wooden bridge that spanned a fish-filled stream, and I considered his question.

  “Not so much nervous as… apprehensive. I must’ve asked Cornelius a dozen questions about what to expect, and he was less than helpful.”

  Leo frowned. “He didn’t offer enough information?”

  I gave him a wry look. “No, quite the opposite. Way too much information on procedures and rules and points of order. It really did nothing to reassure me. Neither did Lacey, for that matter.”

  Leo came to a stop, turning around to fac
e me. “You’re going to do brilliantly at this. First step is getting rid of those gas chambers. The second is getting rid of the ranking system. Baby steps, right?”

  I gave him an incredulous look as I listened to his words. “Was that a joke?” I asked. If so, it was one of his funnier ones—which wasn’t saying much, as his jokes tended to be a little odd.

  “Yes,” he said, immediately pleased that I had recognized it. His features took on a boyish light, and I couldn’t help but smile at the simple validation I had given him just by recognizing it. “I finally got one right.”

  “I’m really proud of you,” I told him, wanting to praise him further. Other people might’ve found his reaction odd, but Leo struggled with the concept of humor and joke delivery, and had for a while, according to his own admission. It showed a marked change in him—and one for the better.

  He met my gaze, and suddenly that spark of electricity was back, that need and desire to move closer to him and let him wrap his arms around me and hug away my nerves. I stared at him, imagining what it would feel like to be held tightly by him, and lost myself in that image, driven there by acute loneliness and a need to feel connected, if only for a moment.

  Leo lifted his hand and stroked the backs of his fingers over my cheek in a gentle swipe that made my heart miss a beat and my breath catch in my throat. “You just got sad,” he murmured, clearly concerned. “What did I do?”

  I almost laughed at his question, and then shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, carefully moving his hand away from my cheek. “I was just thinking about something.”

  “Your mother?”

  I closed my eyes, pain washing over me, and then nodded. It was a lie, but not that far from true; thoughts of my mother were always there, in the back of my mind. Besides, it was easier than being honest.