by Rebecca Rode
“But if we make an announcement as we originally planned, it’ll be our word against theirs,” Legacy said.
Councilman Barber snickered. “The word of a group of rebels against the word of NORA’s legitimate heir and leader of the country? That doesn’t seem problematic at all.”
“There’s one other problem,” Councilwoman Marium said. “We put a team outside three different stations, and none of them have sent reporters out in the past few days. Rumors say Alex changed the Right to Information laws. Stations must now submit their reports to the Copper Office for authorization or they get shut down.”
Gram sat up straight in her chair, nearly throwing her lap blanket to the floor. “He can’t do that!”
“Your Honor!” Legacy’s assistant ran up, his face red with exertion. “His Hon—uh, your brother is making a speech. It’s a mandatory broadcast. You can view it in the mechanical room.”
Everyone in the room looked at each other, then leaped to their feet. I moved aside as they shoved their way out the door, Gram right in their midst. The woman had elbows. Then Legacy and I were alone.
She stopped in front of me, her eyes locked on mine. “You came back to me,” she said softly.
“Did I hurt you?” I asked, my voice tight.
“No.”
Thank the fates. “But I scared you.”
“Yes.” She didn’t back down in the slightest. “You aren’t well, Kole.”
I looked back at the doorway, but the others were long gone. “I know.”
“It’s your brain, not you. Don’t ever think there’s something wrong with you. Okay? We’ll figure this out. We’ll stop it from happening again, and we’ll get you medicine that will fix it. I haven’t figured out how yet, but—”
“Legacy,” I interrupted.
“—always a way. We have to believe that. We’re going to beat this.”
“Legacy.”
“What?”
I smiled wryly and lifted one hand to her cheek. To my relief, she leaned into my touch. “You’re the most captivating and infuriating girl I’ve ever met. You’re stubborn, impulsive, and a little . . . Hawking at times. I still can’t believe you went alone with him.”
She gave me a self-deprecating smile.
“You’re all of that and more, but I knew all those things when this started. I knew it the first time I saw you walking down the halls at school, your chin held high as you stared down anyone who questioned your right to be there. I knew it that last day you blocked the doorway and refused to move even for a Firebrand. And now that I know you even better, I’m still here. Don’t you get it? I’m not going anywhere, no matter what the physician or specialist or anybody else says. I guess what I’m saying is, if you want to make this work, I’m willing.”
She closed her eyes against my touch, letting me cup her face in my hand. “I want that more than almost anything.”
I gave her a sideways look. “Almost?”
“Well, it would be nice if my dad lived and the world didn’t end because we failed.”
Now I understood. “And you got the Copper Office back.”
She shook her head. “Nope. That’s third.”
I had no doubt she meant it, and it made me love her more than ever. It was nice to stand here alone, separated from the world through several meters of concrete and kilometers of water and pretend we were a normal couple. She seemed to feel it, too, because she looked more relaxed and happy than I’d seen her in a while.
I motioned to the ceiling. “How’s the island? Do you think I’ll like it?”
“That depends.” She bit her lip. “Do you like llamas?”
I laughed and brought my other hand to her face, stroking my thumb across her cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared at my mouth, awakening something inside me. I lifted her chin upward and leaned in before remembering. “Oh. The broadcast. We’d better get over there and see what Alex is saying.”
She grimaced. “They’ll be recording it, and I already know what he’s going to say. Saving the world can wait two minutes.”
“But—”
She placed a finger on my lips, then pulled them down to hers.
Twenty-Four
Legacy
When we arrived at the mechanical room down the corridor, my hand tucked safely inside Kole’s, it wasn’t Alex’s face that filled the screen. It was Virgil’s. His time in Malrain had changed him. There was a tightness to his eyes that hadn’t been there weeks before, and beads of sweat were visible on the very top of his bare head. Above all, he sported a new discoloration in his skin that looked like burn scars. In the background stood part of Neuromen that hadn’t been destroyed in the fire.
He was back.
“What did I miss?” I asked the others, who stood at the rail behind a row of seats filled with technicians intercepting the broadcast. The earlier dread settled onto my shoulders again, but with Kole at my side, it didn’t feel quite so daunting.
“Your brother announced that NORA’s relay stations have all been taken back,” Foster said, frowning at the screen. “And that you and your supporters been driven out for good. He said the fires are likely to stop now, but he’s increasing patrols just in case.”
Kole swore. A few choice words of my own came to mind, but I felt too glum to voice them. Of course Alex would blame the fires on us.
Millian ran into the room, breathless. She wore scrubs and a surgical mask slung over one ear. She glared at the screen. “I heard. Had to see it for myself.”
Foster stepped aside, making space for her. Then he began to fill her in, leaning close to whisper. The tips of his ears turned pink as he did.
Virgil continued. “It’s clear now that the system of government established under Her Honorable Treena Hawking was a rudimentary one at best. We’ve tried adapting it, but if you’ll excuse the expression, placing a pretty hat on roadkill doesn’t change the fact that it’s roadkill.”
Gram sniffed loudly. If Virgil were here, he’d have a palm mark on his face right now.
“The uncertainty of these past weeks has shown us more than ever that change is needed,” Virgil said. “Our current system isn’t adequate to support a growing, maturing nation. After conferring with experts and specialists in the areas of economics, science, politics, and sociology, His Honor and I have come to a decision. Neuromen will no longer be a science and technology lab. New construction has already begun to repurpose my lab into something far more important—the first Rating control center for our new system.”
“I knew it,” Millian said. “You called it, too, Legacy.”
I only nodded. It gave me no pleasure to be right about this.
Virgil droned on in his artificially somber tone. “You’ll recall that the original Rating system was an imperfect one. This modified version will be better, cleaner, and give you more freedom than ever before. You’ll recall that some citizens were given priority over others when our last medical emergency occurred. Now, priority will be given to those who have earned it rather than those born with privilege and power. In time, we’ll be stronger than ever—and your loved ones will finally be taken care of. The perfect system at last.” He smiled.
“I might just murder that man,” Gram muttered.
Travers glowered at the screen. “I’ll drive you over, Your Honor.”
Virgil’s smile brightened. “And, now, for the best news of all. You’ll recall my absence the past few weeks. I’m pleased to announce that I have not only recovered our previous technology but improved it. Our Honorable Alexandrite Hawking demands perfection from this new system as we end the dark days of inequality, and we’ve given him nothing less. It’s my pleasure to announce that locations for Rating implantation will open in just two days. You will receive a message via your brain implants regarding your date, time, and location. Employers will be notified and your absence excused without penalty. In the meantime, be patient as we emerge from these hard times into a more bright and glorious futu
re. May New NORA forever prosper.” The screen went dark.
“Two days?” Millian exclaimed. “How can they possibly have the materials they need for distribution already? We were supposed to have weeks to fight this.”
Gram frowned. “The materials should have taken months to manufacture and ship. If he has them already, he got them from someone who already had them. But who?”
“Kadee Steer,” I said bitterly. “Malrain’s leader.” Not only had she lied to me about her intentions, she’d made it sound like a bargain was a possibility, which couldn’t be true if she and Virgil already had an agreement. No doubt Chadd had burrowed himself in the city to help with transactions just like this—smuggling his own people in and out, transporting illegal products like Rating screens. They probably even used that night train. No wonder Chadd had been so casual about my presence and receiving messages from Firebrands. Kadee and her people dealt with whoever would give them what they wanted. They had no true loyalties to anyone from NORA, Malrain blood or not.
I’d been so naïve.
“We have to stop those implantations,” Gram said. “As soon as they begin, we’ve failed. I won’t have such an abomination occurring in this country while I draw breath.”
To my surprise, it was Millian who patted her arm. “We can stop this, Your Honor. People have to be concerned right now. There will be protests, maybe even riots. We’ll figure out a way to get the word out, even if we have to hijack a news station to do it.”
Foster laughed. “A news station. Good one.”
Millian gave him a cross look. “I’m serious.”
“Oh, okay,” he said a little too quickly. “Sorry. Um, what did you have in mind?”
While they began to whisper between themselves, Gram listening intently with a frown, I looked around the room at my closest friends and political allies, and two truths began to settle deep within my soul.
First, we were losing. It turned my thoughts bitter to even consider that, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. It would take a brutal change of course to turn the tide of this war, and no video broadcast could do that. I thought again of Physician Redd’s guilty look as he admitted his fears. He’d be far from the only one who felt that way.
Second, I had to find out the details of Kadee’s deal with Virgil and, by extension, the details of her bargain with Alex and the Firebrands. All I could see were bits and pieces of the full picture. Without all the information, we couldn’t possibly fight this.
“Foster,” I said. My assistant jerked his head up and hurried over. “Some of my supporters aboveground will have seen that broadcast. Everyone will be worried. Tell them we have a plan. We won’t let them be forced into Ratings or anything else. Tell them to stand by.”
His eyebrows shot up. “We have a plan?”
“The beginnings of one. Just tell them, okay?”
He nodded. I stepped into the hallway and headed down the corridor toward the stairs, deep in thought.
I hadn’t yet turned the corner into the stairwell when Kole caught up to me. “Why do I have the feeling you’re going to disappear again?”
With a sigh, I turned back to him. He would never agree to my plan. It would have been easier to sneak away and get it done than get permission. But something stopped me from telling the lie that sprang instantly to mind. Instead, I decided to trust him—and by extension, allow him to trust me.
I chose to try.
“There’s something I have to take care of,” I told him, “and I need your help.”
Relief spread across his face. “Tell me what I can do.”
Twenty-Five
Legacy
Chadd didn’t show at midnight, nor half past. I found myself half relieved he hadn’t come and half worried he never would. The rest of my cabinet would have found my plan “reckless” and “impulsive” anyway, plus all the other words that could be summed up in the term “too inexperienced to hold office.” But tonight I didn’t care. Virgil had made his move, and we didn’t have time to argue about it. It was time to cut Virgil’s nicely laid plans to pieces, one by one.
Kole shifted in his stance often as we waited, his eyes darting from one shadow to the next. I saw none of Monster Kole in him tonight. Occasionally, he left my side to investigate a sound or check the bushes and trees around us, but the rest of the time, he stood against me, making me aware of little else but the hardness of his arms, the gentle rising and falling of his ribs against my side, and his quiet exhale in the chilled air.
As he watched the shadows, I stared up at the tall, dark hospital looming above us. I’d come into the world in that building. I existed because of a young girl’s loneliness and an evil man’s lust. Part of me wanted to march inside, track my biological father down, and drag him to a prison cell. But I wouldn’t be able to identify him without Kadee, and I was in no position to demand DNA testing just now.
Later, I promised. Whether I liked Kadee or not, no sixteen-year-old orphan deserved to be treated like that.
“How do you know he’ll come?” Kole grumbled at one o’clock.
“He’ll have people watching. They’ll alert him that we’re here.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
I scanned the shadows, which moved ever so slightly, like tree limbs in the breeze, and shrugged. “They would have attacked by now if they were going to.”
“That’s not comforting either.” He stepped closer to me, but he didn’t demand we leave.
About two hours after midnight, a skinny figure strode up the lawn and planted himself in front of us. He wore all black and an expression that said, You’d better not be wasting my time. Kole aimed his stunner at him, looking every bit the trigger-happy guard.
“I don’t have time to go to Malrain,” I told Chadd. “But I want to talk to Kadee. I know you can communicate with her because she expected us the first time, so don’t lie to me.”
His mouth opened like he’d meant to do just that. I could see the guy recalculating. “Uh, why don’t you give me the message, and I’ll pass it to her.”
“Not good enough,” I said. “Get her on your device now. I want to talk directly to her.”
“But—”
“The lady said now,” Kole growled, sticking the stunner in Chadd’s face.
The guy looked back and forth between us, then gave a long sigh that sounded more like a groan. I heard the protest of adhesive as he reached under his shirt and yanked something free. “Aunt, get Kadee on.” He cupped the device in his hand, hiding it from view. I caught a glimpse of fabric tape hanging from his palm. Definitely a spy. He’d probably been recording every conversation he had since arriving in NORA.
“Hold on,” Rosa’s voice said.
There was fumbling on the other end for a full minute, then the sound of light breathing. “What?” a woman’s voice snapped. “This isn’t what I gave it to you for, Chadd”
“Ma’am, I have Legacy Hawking here.” Chadd’s cross expression was gone now, replaced with a very real fear. “She demands to speak with you.”
Kadee grunted. “Well, now you’ve compromised our communications, so this had better be good.”
Chadd looked at me, hesitated, and placed a tiny black square box into my hand. His eyes gripped it as if he worried I’d take off running with it. I examined it and nearly laughed. This technology had to be at least four decades old. Was that one reason Kadee dealt with Virgil—because they needed better technology?
“Speak, Legacy Hawking,” Kadee said impatiently.
Kole kept his stunner on Chadd, giving me an encouraging nod. It lent me the strength I needed, and I reminded myself I was a Hawking. In a second, I felt presence fall upon my shoulders once again.
“I’m here to renegotiate,” I said evenly.
“Now?” Kadee chuckled darkly. “I gave you the chance. You scorned the idea, remember?”
“You lied about your bargain with Virgil, so I’m considering this an extension of our original negotiation
s. Tell me what you both agreed.”
“First, tell me what you’ve observed,” she said. “What do you think will happen to NORA next?”
I gritted my teeth. I should have known she’d try to play her games. “I know you’ve been collecting old NORA technology for Virgil, including anything associated with the Ratings and this odd little receiver here. You never intended to make a deal with me at all. Or am I wrong about that?”
“My bargain with him was a trade deal,” she said quickly. “Nothing more. He gave us what we needed to take back the lands that are ours. We both know that would require taking the rest of NORA as well. Since your people would never accept an outsider to rule them, I had thought to put you on the throne under my direction. Virgil wouldn’t have been happy about the arrangement, but it wasn’t his decision to make.”
“Why?” I demanded. “Why me and not my brother, or Virgil, or Chadd, for fates sake?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Because you carry a part of us in your blood. You could have been a bridge to peace. I thought we both wanted that.”
“We do. I do,” I said. “But conquering NORA and putting me on the throne isn’t peace.”
“And how do you propose we put you on the throne, girl? By not conquering it? You think we can walk you up that sidewalk and into the building and place you in charge and all will be fine? That isn’t how takeovers work. There is nothing clean about war, and that’s exactly what this is. Your brother holds all the cards. It’s far easier to work with him and your Virgil than it would have been with you. I chose to give you a chance anyway, yet you scorned it.” I detected a hint of pain in her voice. She pretended not to care, but she did. Even Kadee couldn’t remove the mother-daughter bond completely.
“I’m here now,” I said softly. “I want you to end your dealings with Virgil. Destroy the remaining materials for the Ratings and refuse to assist him in any way. Send me troops to serve under my command. When I’ve taken the Copper Office and the military back, your soldiers will return home in peace.”