The Girl Who Dared to Think 2: The Girl Who Dared to Stand

by Bella Forrest

  I turned to Eric. “We gotta go if we’re going. Get your net and ID, and I’ll meet you at the hatch.”

  “Be careful,” Zoe said, directing her comment to both of us. “And take your batons. Oh, and…”

  I was already in the process of flashing Zoe a mock salute when she trailed off, reached up with one hand, and then pulled Eric’s head down to her, going up to her tiptoes. Whatever surprise Eric felt, if any, was soon lost in the sounds of them passionately kissing each other. I watched for a second, then realized I was staring and looked away. Turning, I went to grab my stuff.

  I was happy that Eric and Zoe had made up—more than happy that they were finally kissing!—but the clock had already been ticking for way too long. I just prayed I hadn’t missed the meeting. And that they could help with Maddox.

  19

  I eyed my indicator as we moved up the steps that wrapped around the outermost layer of the Tower, confirming the purple seven was indeed still there. My legs ached fiercely. The steps seemed never to end as I peered up them, pausing to wipe the sweat off my brow.

  “It’s nice being out,” Eric said, coming to a stop next to me, and in spite of my exhaustion and apprehension, I smiled.

  “I know. How have you been dealing with all of this?”

  Eric’s smile dimmed, and he looked away, rubbing one hand up and down the back of his neck. “Not well, actually,” he admitted honestly. “I really miss my family.”

  From what I knew about Eric’s family, they probably missed him, too. I had never seen a group of people who were closer. Going over for dinner meant having a family dinner, complete with four grandparents, an aunt and an uncle with spouses and two children of their own, plus their spouses’ grandparents and families… It was a delightful mess.

  “I’m sure they’re really worried about you,” I said, suddenly guilty. I hadn’t wanted to involve Eric, originally. He wasn’t exactly like Zoe or myself—he could cope with Tower life just with his general good nature. “I’m really sorry for all of this.”

  “What?” Eric’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline, and he gave me a surprised look. “No! Liana, I wasn’t complaining or trying to blame you. I was just sharing. I’m used to, uh, sharing my feelings. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised to hear him say that. Didn’t he regret coming with us, knowing that things would be so much more comfortable if he had chosen to stay? “So you’re okay being here?”

  We resumed walking up the steps, the sound of our footsteps echoing softly off the walls as we climbed up and over the next landing, ignoring the doors there. Eric was silent for several minutes, but so was I, knowing my friend tended to think things through before a single word left his lips.

  “I don’t think ‘okay’ is the right word,” he finally said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I think that I did the right thing.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t actually have to leave,” I pointed out. “With your eight, you could’ve said anything and they would’ve believed you.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t matter. My family is safe. Worried, of course, and possibly even angry if they believe I’m a criminal, but safe, nonetheless. I mean, they haven’t touched your family, so I have to assume…” He stopped suddenly and turned, bringing me to a halt as well. “But you and Zoe are also my family, and I couldn’t live with myself if you were in danger and I wasn’t there to help.”

  I blinked back tears, and then on impulse, reached out and hugged him. “I do not know how I got so lucky to have friends like you and Zoe, and I don’t care—I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” We resumed walking, and after a few steps he said, “I should really be worried about you. How are you holding up?”

  I exhaled and shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and the last two ideas I’ve had have failed. Dismally. I mean, at least we got enough nets, thanks to Maddox’s quick thinking, but I don’t think it will have been worth it if we can’t rescue her. Still, I can’t help but wonder if maybe you guys picked the wrong leader.”

  “Liana, stop being so hard on yourself, seriously. I understand that you’re not sure if the decisions you’re making are the right ones, but that’s not all being a leader is about, and you know that.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that we got discovered and Maddox got caught. Oh, and that the entire Tower probably thinks I’m trying to kill Scipio. I am becoming a liability to you all.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. There are a billion ways we could get caught. You see that corner? Any moment, your father could come around it. Now, if it were me, I’d freeze and immediately get busted, but you’d knuckle down, keep walking, and hope your uniform and the number on your wrist were enough to get you past him. You’re quick on your feet, and you have a powerful need to get things done. I admire that—not many have that ability. And that’s why we need you.”

  “Great, so I improvise well. That doesn’t exactly mean that I make sound decisions.”

  “I’m sorry, have the rest of us just been sitting idly by while you’ve been making all the decisions on your own? No, we have not, because you have included us. We supported your decisions, all of them, every step of the way. We’re in this together, so just let it go already!”

  I smiled at his exasperation. “I get it, my self-doubt is gross. But can I just please whine for five more seconds?”

  Eric smiled and shook his head. “Nope, we’ve got a schedule to adhere to. Chop chop.”

  We exited the floor and headed into the shell, following Quess’s instructions as we navigated the halls. I stopped at the one marked Causeway 19F and quickly keyed in the code Quess had given me before we left, and then waited.

  “I’m having a right good sleep, here,” the door said, much more loudly than I would’ve preferred. I looked back and forth down the metal hall, checking for any sign of human life. We appeared to be alone, but who knew how long that would last. “What do you want?”

  “We want to have dinner with the Pope,” I said, still not entirely clear on what a “pope” was, but reciting the passcode faithfully anyway, trusting in Quess’s memory.

  “Did you say with the poop?”

  I bit back a smile, but it was hard, considering Quess hadn’t told me what the door’s reply would be—only my response, and even then, he had left the poop part out and just told me to repeat whatever it said back in the affirmative. “Yes. We want to have dinner with the poop.”

  The door laughed raucously and slid open, allowing us inside. We had entered among the residents’ quarters, and a quick check of the dwelling numbers told me we were on the right floor, as planned. We just had to follow the hall down.

  The main corridor stretched down, the doors numbering in the seventies. It was dimly lit—nighttime setting—and surprisingly empty, considering it was one of the major thoroughfares. Even this late at night, there should be those on graveyard shift moving about. Work never really stopped in the Tower; it just got quieter at night.

  I hesitated, the emptiness of the halls bothering me, and then brushed it aside. There was probably just a lull in foot traffic. Besides, fewer people meant less chance for me to be recognized.

  I figured out which way we had to go to get to Roark’s apartment, and waved Eric forward. Our footsteps sounded off the tight wall, thick rubber soles on grated floor making a sort of grinding squeak that always felt impossible to prevent. With both of us walking, the sounds were tangled, filling the tense silence that had blossomed the deeper we went down the hall.

  At C35, I realized we weren’t alone, the sounds of our booted feet masking the sounds of others behind us. I was just starting to turn when something black dropped over my head, and both my arms were seized. Something long and hard pressed against the small of my back.

  “Don’t resist,” a masculine voice warned, and I jerked my head toward it, trying to pinpoint his position behind me. “The girl
will come with us. The man will wait here.”

  “Liana?” Eric’s voice came through muffled, but the alarm was unmistakable.

  “It’s okay,” I said, my own voice coming out stuffy to my ears. “Don’t panic and don’t fight them. Remain calm, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, and I was pushed forward, my feet stumbling on the floor.

  “Who are you?” I demanded as I caught my balance.

  “We work for those you’re going to meet. Just remain calm and quiet. We don’t want any attention drawn to your presence.”

  “Then you probably shouldn’t drop a bag on someone’s head in the middle of a public hall,” I muttered, and he let out a surprised laugh. I felt a moment of hope that he was going to take the bag away, but that was dashed as a hand dropped heavily onto my shoulder, engulfing it, and propelled me forward, albeit this time more gently. My heart beat rapidly in my chest as I jerked my head around, trying to see through the dark fabric that was covering my eyes. Every step I took, I felt certain I was going to fall, or run into something, and it was disorienting.

  They—there was definitely more than one—guided me around a corner, then, and I could tell we were in a dwelling because the sound wasn’t as spread out. The hand on my shoulder pushed down on me, forcing me into a seat, and then I heard the footsteps retreating, followed by the pneumatic hiss of the door closing.

  “Hello?” I asked. It occurred to me then that they hadn’t tied my hands, and I ripped off the bag and looked around.

  I was sitting in a chair in the middle of Roark’s apartment, and I was surprised to see that none of the mess had been changed since we had cleared out in such a hurry. Gerome’s body was obviously missing, as was the wrench Tian had used to knock him unconscious. But empty bottles and beakers still decorated the workbench.

  I half expected to see Roark looking up at me from a microscope, but the room was empty… and diminished. It was a poignant reminder that he was gone, his dream of leaving here never achieved. I leaned toward the table, wanting to touch the surface, to see if I could just… feel him, when a voice brought me up short.

  “Squire Castell.” I swiveled in my seat to see two figures enter. The first was a man, tall and thin, with burning blue eyes and a gleaming, shaved head covered with dark blue tattoos, marking him as a Diver. His nose was flat and wide, and his jaw had a crooked look, as if it had been broken one time too many.

  Behind him was a short woman wearing orange coveralls marred with grease stains and covered in a dozen little pockets on the front and side, all of them filled with tools. Her hair was comprised of both blond and brown, the two colors mixed together amid the tight curls that were pulled back to form an afro over her head. She smiled kindly, her white teeth flashing against her dark skin.

  “You’re Praetor Strum,” I said, immediately recognizing the man. I only knew who he was through Zoe, and I was surprised to see him here. He was on the council as the representative from Water Treatment.

  “Indeed, I am,” he said, inclining his bald head toward me. “And this is Lacey Green.” -

  I looked over at the muscular black woman. I knew her name, of course, but had never seen a picture of the head of the Mechanics Department. “You’re the Lead Engineer. You’re on the council as well.”

  “Yes, I am. And you’re the girl who murdered her mentor and has committed several terrorist acts around the Tower.”

  The hair on my arms and neck stood up, and I shifted, looking around the room. Of all the things I had anticipated today, speaking with two members of the council was not anywhere on the list, and it caught me off guard, especially coupled with the recrimination in her voice. There was no sign that this was a trap, no crimson-clad figures lurking behind the scenes that I could spot, but…

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” I said, shoving any and all speculation out of my head. If this was a trap, then I was already in it. Until I knew where it was coming from, I couldn’t do anything to stop it, and I doubted they would let me leave now. Besides, I intended to use the time wisely, to see if I couldn’t figure out what they wanted. “Now, what do two members of the council want with a dishonored Squire like myself?”

  Praetor Strum smiled wanly. “Your help, I’m afraid.”

  20

  “My help,” I said dubiously, looking from one to the other. “My help?”

  “Yes,” Lacey said, folding her strong arms over her chest. “You heard correctly.”

  I licked my lips. “Okay, let me get this straight. Two council members want me, a known criminal of the Tower, to help them? You are two of the six most powerful people inside the Tower. How in the world could I possibly help you? Do you want me to steal something?”

  The two of them exchanged looks. They were both wearing surprised and thoughtful expressions, and I leaned forward, watching them. I had voiced my internal thoughts to try to get a reaction from them, and that was one. One that told me that I wasn’t here to steal something.

  “Not stealing anything, then. But some sort of crime, obviously.” I leaned back, wondering what sort of crime a council member would need me for.

  Lacey sighed heavily and finally met my gaze. “We want you to kill Devon Alexander.”

  I stared at them, my mind unable to process how to even react to that information bomb. A laugh escaped me. And then another, and another, until I was doubled over clutching my stomach. It was rude to them, but honestly, it was the only reaction that made any sense. This was a joke. A sick, twisted, perverted joke.

  “I’m sorry,” I said after a few moments, hiccupping as I wiped tears from my eyes. “That was a good joke.”

  “I’m afraid this isn’t funny, Squire Castell,” Praetor Strum coolly informed me.

  I chuckled again and shook my head. He clearly thought I was stupid, but I knew killing Devon Alexander would be the final nail in my coffin. There was nothing he or Lacey could do to protect me from that, especially with all the other strikes against me.

  Still, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer audacity of his request. “I didn’t say it was funny, I said it was a good joke,” I said, standing. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time.”

  I turned to go, but Lacey moved in front of me, stopping me. “You should hear us out, Liana,” she said softly.

  “No, I shouldn’t. I didn’t know I was meeting with members of the council, and that changes everything. I’m a criminal, an enemy to your precious Tower, which means you should be having me arrested. The fact that you aren’t is one thing, but the fact that you are standing here asking me to kill the Champion of the Knights is something completely different. This is a political assassination, and I don’t care what you say, the two of you do not have enough power to get me out of that mess. Maybe if you had two more council members here, so I could believe that you’d overrule any execution order, I’d hear you out. I doubt I’d do it, but at least I’d listen. But with just the two of you? I’m sorry, I have places to go and people to take care of.”

  “You don’t know anything about us—”

  “I know all I need to know about you,” I spat. “You sat by when they started—what’s the word you use—‘expelling’ those who dropped to the rank of one. And we all know that’s just a fancy word for murder.” The two of them exchanged surprised looks, and I crossed my arms. “Yes, I know a whole lot more than you think I do. And I know the council voted for it. And that would have included you. So what makes you think I’m going to help actual murderers kill more people, when I refused to do it the first time?”

  “Okay, first of all, I wasn’t the head of the Cogs when that vote was held,” Lacey retorted. “Secondly, both of our departments voted against it, and lost. So I think you might be missing a few details.”

  I blinked, and leaned back. Alex had mentioned that both Cogs and Water Treatment had voted against the new policy to make fours undergo mandatory rank intervention recently. I wasn’t sure when the vote to start killing ones ha
d been voted on, but… Lacey was right. I had no idea how the vote had taken place.

  “Then fill me in,” I said. “And tell me, why the hell do you want Devon dead?” The two exchanged another flurry of glances.

  Praetor Strum folded his hands together and leaned back on the table, causing a few pieces of glassware to rattle. “Very well. Since the origin of the Tower, there have been… several shadow groups vying for control over Scipio. We believe that Devon Alexander is from one of those groups, and that he has attained more power within the council, which we are… uncomfortable allowing to continue.”

  I looked at them both, suddenly suspicious. Zoe’s comments about the timing of their contact was now flashing through my head, making me wonder if I really had just accidently stumbled right into Prometheus. We had speculated about it, but I had never actually thought they had survived. But if they had… What if all this was a trick to talk about Leo? Had they figured it out? If so… how?

  It took a second, but then the logical part of my brain kicked in, trying to get me to see reason. The Praetor had said groups, as in more than one, and I didn’t think that was a slip or a lie. If there still was a Prometheus, then maybe they weren’t the only ones working against the Tower.

  I eyed them both warily, trying to figure out what that made them in this whole big mess. How did they know about these groups, and why weren’t they trying to stop Devon using more legal ways?

  “You’re going to need to give me a lot more than that. Who are these groups and how do you know about them? What do they want? How can they get anything accomplished with Scipio standing guard? Has one of these shadow groups already seized control of him?”

  I knew I was being aggressive with my questions, but I didn’t care. They were inspiring more questions than they were answering, and I wanted answers. I wanted to know if Scipio had already been compromised, and when it had happened, and more importantly, why? What were they using his program to do?