I scrambled for the lock, yanking it with my left hand and bracing the turn against my right shoulder. It budged, but only barely.
“Locked. It’s locked,” I said, like an idiot.
My breath came faster.
Adam couldn’t have locked it. Not this soon. As far as I knew, he hadn’t even made it through yet.
My breath froze at the thought. If Adam hadn’t made it through, then he was almost certainly dead. And if he had died, so had…
Focus, Char. Eren’s life was still at stake. And my father’s.
Okay. This is a lock. It’s a lock. You can do this.
You have to.
There was no way Adam had done this already, so the door had probably sealed automatically when the airlock was compromised. I had to find out what kind of lock I was dealing with, and fast.
Think, Char. Think.
My breath came in shaky bursts. I had no information. None at all.
But my dad did.
“Dad!” I shouted through the door. “You have to tell me what sound it made when you opened it!”
“What sound what made?”
“The door! The manual release is disabled. I need to know what kind of lock it is! What sound did it make?”
He looked at me. “None!” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“What about when it closed? Like a pop? Or a metallic sound?”
He shook his head again, and I saw that he’d put the helmet over Eren. “Charlotte, there was a lot going on! I didn’t hear it.”
When you’re breaking into a house, it’s a good idea to think about why its security exists. For instance, you’d be thinking about how to keep out people like me. This puts you in the mindset of the security engineer. From there, you learn everything you can about the system to try to stay a few steps ahead.
I thought about the engineers of the ship. What kind of lock would they use? They weren’t trying to keep people out. They were trying to protect against the vacuum of space. I bit a lip, willing my heart to keep beating.
“Magnet,” I said. “Gotta be a magnet slider. Set to a computer that can turn it on and off. A door this size, you’d have heard the hydraulics otherwise. Can’t be a deadbolt.”
Dad stared at me. “Okay. A magnet. How do we fix that?”
“How’s my helmet holding up?”
He looked back. “It’s there. It’s stopping most of the air from escaping, but it’s not a perfect seal. I assume that’s why life support is off over here. They wouldn’t pump oxygen into an airlock once it’s depressurized.”
“Right. Right.” The thought of my father and Eren slowly suffocating threatened to turn my brain into oatmeal. I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to fix the magnet. “Heat! Heat can demagnetize the door.”
“Yeah. It can also kill us all,” Dad said, more quietly this time. “I’m sure they fireproofed it, Charlotte. It’s a spaceship.”
My hand went to my sleeves. What did I have? What could I use? I had taken scissors and needles from Eren’s room, but I couldn’t find them now. What did I remember about magnet locks? “If we could get to the magnet, we could redirect the flux lines into a loop. That would kill its field strength.”
“I have your scissors on this side,” he said, following my thoughts, and I saw that the edges of his mouth were turning slightly blue. “I found them when your space skin was burning. Can you hack the computer? Disable it that way?”
“Hack? No, Dad. I’m not great with computers.” There hadn’t been a lot of those in juvy.
Locks, on the other hand… those, we had. “Iron,” I said. “We need iron. Like a nail, but bigger. If we lay it over the poles, connect them, that’ll loop it.”
“What?” he shouted, but I was already halfway across the receiving room. There were no panels, no supplies. Just a couple of metal chairs, a table, and some LED-looking lights. It was hopeless.
“Iron!” I screamed. “Iron!” I picked up the chair and flung it into the door, then grabbed a table, aiming its corner at the window. But I was weak, and I only had one hand, and my aim was off. I picked it up and kept right on going anyway.
“Stop! Charlotte! You can’t break the window. It’s a spaceship. It’s made of quartz and polyethylene.”
Still, I kept hitting it, again and again. Nothing happened. I pressed down against the panic, but knew I was losing. “We—need—iron!”
I was about to watch my father die.
“The nav system in the hopper,” he said. “The needle is iron.”
I made myself see him, understand his words, but all I wanted to do was scream. Something about his voice calmed me down. “Dad. That’s computerized.”
“It’s mostly computerized. People still use compasses in the middle of the route. The polarity orients to the nearest, biggest ship.”
“Go get it! Go! And find something you can use to break the—”
But Dad was already halfway back to the hopper. He pulled a flight kit from behind the passenger seat, and I couldn’t see what happened next.
I pressed my face into the window, struggling to see Eren, to try to discern whether he was breathing, but he was flat on the ground, and too close to the door, so I couldn’t.
Instead, I focused on breathing, and tried to make myself calm. Patient.
I gave up a second later and slapped the window in frustration.
Dad returned approximately one million years after that. He had an ax, a pair of scissors…
And the needle from the compass.
“Okay. What am I doing here?” he said.
Breathe, Charlotte. Think. “Hit it with the ax. You gotta dismantle the outer part of the door. It’s just cosmetic. Find the magnet.”
My dad picked up the ax. He was as tall as the trees.
“Hit it at an angle. You can’t break the lock or the actual door. But maybe you can get the outer panel off.”
A few whacks later, he looked up at me, then switched to scissors. A second after that, a black panel came away in his hands. He threw it behind himself and rubbed a cheek. His lips were almost totally blue.
“It’s gonna look like a deadbolt, Dad. Lay the iron over the poles. Get some surgical tape from Eren to secure it with. Hopefully that will redirect the flux enough that we can muscle the door open. The poles will be positioned near the computer’s access—you know what? Just try everything. Every position, once you find the magnet.”
“Believe it or not, Charlotte, I’ve actually seen a magnet before.” In spite of everything, Dad smiled. Even his gums were turning blue. “You know, Charlotte—”
“Oh, no. No you don’t. Magnet. Poles.”
“I’m proud of you. I am, Charlotte.”
“Poles. Focus. Please, Dad.”
A minute later, he nodded at me. “That’s… that’s either it, or it’s as close as I’m going to get. Time to pull.”
I braced myself against the frame, locking my wrist against the elbow of my bad arm. I’d wedged some of the space skin into the handle to give myself a better grip, so I pressed my fingers as far into the rubbery fabric as I could. “Okay, go.”
I pulled for all I was worth.
Inches away, my father did the same.
Nothing happened.
“Come on, come on,” I muttered through my teeth. We didn’t have to pry it all the way open. We just had to open it far enough to disengage the magnet. Maybe only a few inches.
Maybe only one inch.
The door moved. Only a fraction, but it moved. Every millimeter away would weaken the magnet’s influence.
I pulled harder.
The door opened an inch, then another inch, and then my father was through, and he was pulling Eren in, but the door wanted to close. I kicked at it, desperate to get Eren through, but my father halted his struggle long enough to block my foot. There was little enough air in the anteroom, but he managed to shout, blue-lipped and wide-eyed, “Don’t break it!”
&n
bsp; They rolled past me, and my father grabbed the door immediately. We pulled, both of us breathless by this point.
“The other side is magnetized!” I said, but the room lacked the oxygen to carry the sound. I grabbed the ax, planning to reverse my father’s work, and life support shut down around us. Too late, I realized that this room was now depressurized. We’d all be sealed off together.
To my surprise, the door slid closed on its own a moment later, and I realized that a high-pitched alarm had been reverberating throughout the hangar while it was open. When the door was sealed, it ceased.
My father met my gaze, wild-eyed. We’d done it.
That was when I noticed the soldiers.
They pressed in at the door to the anteroom, hitting it. I saw one helmet, then two. Good. Their door would be released as soon as the anteroom repressurized, then they could help us.
But time ran short on this side of the door. I yanked the helmet off Eren and thrust it into my father’s hands. His fingers were a dull blue underneath the nails.
“Oxygen. Quick,” I said, and reached for Eren.
Before I could grab him, the hangar ignited once again. I watched, helpless, as the hopper was encased by an explosion a thousand feet wide. I barely caught sight of a tuft of brown hair in the cockpit before the blast obscured my view. The fire was impossibly bright, too bright to look at, and my eyes squeezed shut against the heat.
It took a minute for my heart rate to slow, and once it did, my hand was in full-on shake mode. I peeled the first layer of tape off Eren’s eyes, all the way down to the skin, then stopped. Breathed. Checked that Eren was breathing.
Beside me, Dad watched, brows drawn. “He’s fine. He’ll be okay.” His voice was shaky.
I nodded dimly, wondering whom Dad was trying to convince.
Next, I pulled everything away from his ears. Then I turned to the tape on his head. Since he wasn’t conscious, I decided to peel it slowly, in the hopes that it wouldn’t leave as much of a mark.
Finally, I delicately lifted the tape from his eyelids.
Nothing happened.
“Dad,” I whispered, but he didn’t answer right away. He was staring at Eren’s face.
He’d had an oxygen mask on since before the hull breach, so he’d be fine, right?
“I don’t know. I’m feeling kind of…” Dad trailed off, and I looked at him, confused. “Anyway. We need to find the medics. They can help him. Oh, Char. The Ark.”
I looked at my dad. “Adam isn’t dead. The Ark is fine. Well. As fine as it was when he left it.”
He had an expression that made it clear he didn’t agree, but his distress was lined with pity. For me.
“Trust me,” I said grimly. “He wouldn’t go out like that. In fact, he may have had the whole thing planned from—”
“Stay where you are.”
Dad jerked his head up, bemused. I looked around, trying to find the source. The metallic voice had a British accent, but the tone was all too familiar.
The door sucked open, abruptly balancing the oxygen, and the voice spoke again.
“Do not attempt to stand.”
Slowly, gently, I laid Eren’s head on the ground and lifted my arms above my head.
“Ah, good. They’re here,” Dad said. “We need help,” he called. “This young man—”
“No, Dad,” I muttered. “Don’t.”
He looked at me, taking in my posture.
On the other side of the chair, a panel slid open, and a masked team in standard-looking black uniforms poured into the room. They moved quickly, hitting a hasty formation, then readjusting as more and more soldiers rushed in. They were armed, of course. Their ship had just been violently attacked.
But their weapons were aimed at us.
Dad’s face went blank, and his eyes locked on mine as understanding set in.
“They’re not here to help us,” I said quietly. I’d only ever heard that tone in one context. I took a breath and shifted to my knees, keeping my hands up. “They’re here to arrest us.”
Ten
Four paces across, four paces back. Square cells were the worst.
They came for me four days later, judging by the strict regimen of lights going on and off, and I can’t say I was entirely dreading the moment, at least at first.
I was escorted from my plain white cell in solitary to a plain white room in another part of the ship. On one end of the room, a long, thin table hosted a line of white metal chairs. The final chair stood in the center of the room, alone.
Oh, goody, I thought. Another day, another panel of people who controlled my future. Who had already decided what kind of girl I was. Should be fun.
But this was different from a parole hearing or a jury. First off, the guards barely touched me. That was new. Everything felt cordial, civilized. I seated myself in the center chair without prompting. Didn’t take a genius to know I wasn’t getting a spot at the table.
I shifted a few times, trying to get comfortable, and the skin on my arm prickled, making me think. The lock on the door had taken two men to open. There were no chains on the chair. There were no guards in the room, and the ones who’d brought me here had worn their firearms openly. Whoever else was coming, they must be important. I forced myself to stop fidgeting, aware that I was being watched, then wondered why I cared what they saw.
About the time I stopped moving, six people—three men, three women—dressed in somber suits filed into the room like soldiers and took their seats in unison. None had a gun. They didn’t speak at first. They simply regarded me with open expressions. I squeezed my hands together, and six pairs of eyes noticed the tension with half-glances at my lap. That’s when I realized that I wasn’t just anxious.
I was terrified.
I cleared my throat. “I didn’t—”
“I am the captain of this ship, and among us are the ministers in charge of the cities,” the man at the center of the table said abruptly. “We are investigating the destruction of a significant portion of our Ark, which took place at the time of your arrival.”
I let a breath out slowly. It didn’t seem like an invitation to introduce myself.
“We’ve requested an interview because we find ourselves in the strange position of not having decided what to do with you yet. We have not been able to reach an accord.” The captain glanced pointedly at the first place at the table, and I blinked in surprise.
“Charles,” I said. My voice carried in the room, and I cringed a little. “Mr. Eiffel.”
He gave me a cordial nod, and I searched his eyes for some clue as to my fate. I saw no malice and only the faintest vestiges of our short friendship. For him, five years had passed. In fact, he was basically a blank slate. He probably saw me as nothing more than a dim memory.
“We know each other,” I explained shakily. “He was—”
“Mr. Eiffel has given a full statement as to his knowledge of you and your actions. We are far more interested in hearing what you may have to add.”
“Let me save you some time,” I said. “I don’t know how Adam had a bomb, or how he escaped. All I know is that he’s probably not dead. He’s dangerous and he has a history of working with An, when they find each other useful. And he won’t stop until he’s back in control.”
Another suit let out a beleaguered sigh. “You are not, I think, a killer, Charlotte Turner,” she said. She had blue eyes so light they were almost gray, which matched the color of her hair. Her face was pale, and her suit was almost black. In fact, her only coloring came from a shock of coral-red lipstick on her thin mouth. “Your brief tenure as an Ambassador, together with your decisions on board the North American Ark during the attack from the Asian Ark have convinced us that you may yet have something to offer. Assuming, of course, that Adam didn’t turn you.”
My fear bubbled up into anger. “He hasn’t,” I said flatly.
“It wouldn’t be your fault. Those drugs are powerful. Conceivably, he could corrupt the mind at
its very core. Make you think you’ve seen things you haven’t. Make you believe things that are impossible. We’ve been working on some similar formulas of our own…” She peered at me over the table, letting the threat hang unspoken between us. “Only as a necessary means to developing a counteragent. All we’re asking is that you keep your mind open to the idea.”
I gave her an irritated glare but held my tongue. Barely.
A fourth suit picked up a stem and adjusted his screen. “Perhaps you’d like to make a statement?”
I wet my lips. “About?”
“Your time as his Lieutenant. Things you may have seen or heard.”
I shook my head. “You’re right. I was drugged. You can’t be sure when it’s going on, but coming in and out of it, I knew I was being drugged. I tried to think of ways to escape. It took five years to build up the, the…” I trailed off. “The focus.”
The woman with the lipstick peered down her nose at me. “There may be some memories to which you do not have access.”
I looked at her. “Then you must believe that I’m innocent. I mean, if I can’t even remember what he did—”
“As it happens,” said the woman, “we do believe in your innocence, Miss Turner. But it does not then follow that you are of no use to us.”
The committee looked at each other, and the captain spoke again. “We are going to hold you a bit longer. See what we can come up with. As we said, we have not exhausted our resources yet.”
The words made me cold. I drew my shoulder blades together in an effort not to shiver. I needed to think. What was the play here? And what were they planning?
I pressed my lips together. Did I even have a play?
The captain tapped on the table, then stood. Two doors opened at once: his exit, and the one with all the guards, three of whom entered the room and waited for me to stand.
I took in their guns. I wasn’t as fast as I used to be, but I could probably make it out the other door before they caught me. I felt a wave of despair. I wouldn’t make it far. And then what? I had nowhere to go, except prison. Or execution. The thoughts were equally wearying. The Council members were leaving.
The Fall Page 7