Torin looked up from the prototype. “Almost. Just a few more kinks to work out and we should be all set.” He was sure the chief could hear the guilt lining his voice.
Victor swiped the prototype from his hands and examined it in great detail. “This looks exactly like the last one,” he snarled as he tossed it onto the desk. “I’m moving your deadline up. Have the machine completed by tomorrow at noon.”
Torin’s eyes grew wide. “I can’t promise—”
“You’ll do it,” Victor commanded. “Or you’ll be of no use to me. And do you know what I do to things that are of no use to me?” He glanced over at Von who was busy reloading his AK-47.
Torin nodded, catching his drift. “Tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow at noon,” he corrected, his fingers sliding across the smooth surface as he strode toward the door.
“With all honesty, I’ll probably need close to the whole day.” Torin gave him his best puppy-dog eyes. Victor stopped in his tracks and turned to give him a menacing look, to which Torin shrugged and simply replied, “You can’t rush genius.”
The chief took a few steps back in his direction. “Wipe that smug look off of your face. And actually, I can rush genius. My house, my rules,” he hissed. “Get it done.”
Torin didn’t say another word as he watched the chief walk out the doors. The room was dead silent. He spun his chair back around to face his work station, his mind jumbled with all the items on his to-do list. First things first. If he ever hoped to escape, he had to get the schematic to Emery. The disintegration machine would have to wait.
+ +
By the time he looked up at the clock, it was well into early morning, around two o’clock. Before getting started, he’d sat patiently, waiting for Von to leave, but after thirty minutes of no movement, he’d given up on that thought. He couldn’t afford to waste another minute. He’d managed to work on the schematic without Von even noticing—at least, he didn’t think Von had seen him.
Using the rotation feature on the holoscreen, he examined his latest and greatest schematic of Novak’s chambers to make sure it was up to par. One area was missing information—Novak had never taken him there, so he didn’t want to draw anything that could be misleading. Instead, he’d applied shading, graying it out, so as to not confuse Emery, Naia, or the Commander. He glanced at the clock again. His comrades were probably fast asleep, but he decided to send it anyway, seeing as time was of the essence.
Hacking into the mainframe was easier this time around, and so was connecting to the signal. He attached the file containing the schematic to his message and wrote: Deadline moved to today at noon – help!
A wave of relief washed over him as he pressed the send button. Even in such a technologically-advanced world, the large message still took time to make its way across the server. He looked at the progress bar underneath the message icon. Twenty minutes.
In twenty minutes, they’d have everything they needed to get him out of there.
As inconspicuously as he could, Torin turned his head to steal another look at Von who was still standing with his eyes forward, not moving.
Good. He didn’t see me.
His nerves began to settle. He switched his focus from the schematic of Novak’s chambers to the blueprint for the disintegration machine. He picked up the most recent prototype, scrutinizing every last detail. An idea came to him—an utterly stupid, yet brilliant idea. Novak would probably have his head if he went through with it, but what did he really have to lose? Sure, he’d make the disintegration machine, just as Novak had requested.
But ease of use? Now, that was the one thing he had complete control over.
32
Ping.
Emery’s eyes fluttered open, her head subconsciously turning toward the source of the noise. A soft white light emanated from one of the tablets across the room. She pulled herself upward, her back aching from sleeping on the cave floor all week. She tiptoed over to the tablet and lifted it to eye level.
A new message.
She tapped on the file greedily, watching as the schematic downloaded. Ten minutes loading time. Really? Even in the 7S world?
With a grunt, she set the tablet down, trying to figure out what to do to pass the time. She decided to order a coffee from SmartMeal. Three minutes gone.
She drank said coffee, sipping it as slowly as she could manage. Four minutes gone.
She walked over to where Naia was sleeping and woke her. One minute gone.
She hurried over to her father and woke him. One minute gone.
With only sixty seconds remaining, Emery, Byron, and Naia all huddled over the tablet, anxiously awaiting the schematic’s arrival.
3 . . . 2 . . . 1.
And there it was. Right before her very eyes. It was the most detailed drawing she’d ever seen. The straight lines, the sharp edges, and the defined corners all came to life as Naia pushed a button on the tablet. The schematic floated before them in holographic fashion. Emery swiped her hand across the image, watching as the 3D blueprint of the chamber made a 180-degree turn. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn a professional architect had created it. Torin had even labeled certain areas with an X to indicate where the guards were stationed.
“This is quite impressive,” Byron exhaled, unable to take his eyes off of it.
When Emery finally broke her eyes from the image, she noticed that there was a message accompanying the file. She quickly opened it and read the text, biting her lip so hard that she drew blood.
“We have a slight problem,” Emery announced as she looked up from the tablet.
Byron and Naia turned toward her with weary expressions. “What is it?” they both asked in unison.
“Torin’s deadline,” Emery groaned. “It’s been moved up. To today at noon.”
Byron nodded, completely unfazed. Seeing as he was the Commander of the Seventh Sanctum, sleep was a mere luxury. Always on the go, always fighting new battles, no matter what time of day it was. With complete focus, he pointed to one of the side entrances on the east side of the building. “We could enter here.”
“Even though Torin didn’t draw any Xs, I’m guessing the outside entrances are probably heavily guarded with armed soldiers,” Naia thought aloud, her finger grazing her chin. “What about here?” She pointed to an area with a large glass window.
Emery shook her head. “That glass is probably triple-paned and will be impossible to break without making too much noise and drawing unwanted attention to ourselves.” She knelt down to observe the schematic in more detail, her eyes flitting back and forth between the two entrance points. “From what I know about Novak, he’ll expect us to try to sneak through a window or side door. Those will be the most heavily armed.”
“Perhaps there’s another cell window that we can get through,” Byron chimed in. “One that’s not holding a prisoner captive? The door wouldn’t be locked.”
Emery shook her head again. “That’s risky. I highly doubt Novak keeps those cell doors unlocked.” She gave the schematic another once-over, then sighed. “I can’t believe I’m about to admit this, Naia, but I think you were right all along.”
Naia looked up from the hologram, her face beaming. “About the glass window?”
“No, about . . .” She hesitated, not wanting to say the words. “Turning myself in.”
A giant grin stretched across Naia’s face. She beamed with satisfaction. “I knew you’d come around.”
Emery folded her arms. “But only as a distraction. See this area right here?” She motioned toward the front door and the side door, an X stationed in the middle of the hallway. “It’s the only area where there’s just one guard, but two entrances. If I enter through the front, both the guard and Novak will be preoccupied with taking me back to my cell.” She shivered at the thought, the scent of the damp, musty stone coming back to her. “Then, the two of you can enter through the side door.”
“What do you propose if, by some stroke of misfortune, Torin got the placement of the guards wrong?” Naia asked.
“Naia has a point,” Byron pointed out. “The guards could be on a rotational shift every thirty minutes or hour.”
Emery pondered this for a moment. “That’s just a risk we’ll have to take. Even if there’s a guard at that side door, it’s still two against one. I have no doubt that you and my father would be able to take him out.”
“Speaking of taking people out,” Naia said as she walked over to the opposite side of the cave. “We’ll probably need these.” She brushed her hands across the ground, removing a layer of pine needles, leaves, and branches to reveal a small collection of artillery. She pulled out one M60, one AK-47, and one electrified dagger.
A pang of guilt hit Emery square in the stomach. It was the same dagger that Rhea had thrown at her. Right before she’d . . .
Emery eyed the dagger, trying to keep the image of Rhea’s lifeless body at bay. “I’ll take that,” she said, reaching for it. “These were hidden here the whole time?”
“It was all I could manage to bring with me,” Naia explained as she handed the M60 to the Commander. “We searched for more at 7S Headquarters after I found your father, but the place had been raided.”
“Meaning that the guards in the chamber have a nice collection of weaponry to choose from,” Byron added.
Emery nodded as she tucked the dagger into the back waistband of her pants, then pulled her shirt over the handle.
For the remainder of the morning, the trio discussed their plan in greater detail, playing the what-if game to prepare for worst-case scenarios. Her father was the best at coming up with these, albeit some of his ideas were a little out there. Only when it felt like they’d beaten a dead horse did they decide it’d be wise to get some rest. Emery looked at the tablet, realizing that it was 6:30 in the morning. A little shut-eye couldn’t hurt. “We’ve been at this all morning. Time to give it a rest.”
Naia and Byron looked up from where they were seated, scribbled holotext floating in waves around them. Yes, their plan was a mess. Yes, it was slightly unorganized. But at least they had something.
“I’m not sure we’re ready yet,” Byron said firmly. “We need at least another hour.”
The bags underneath his eyes and permanent crease in his forehead said otherwise. Emery looked at Naia. Her hair was tousled and her eyelids had started to droop. “We’ll have an hour or so to prepare after we get some sleep,” Emery responded. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Otherwise we’re bound to fail.”
“I thought our plan was to strike tonight?” Naia asked as she continued to scribble text into the air.
Emery walked over to where they were sitting. She held her hand out, waiting for them to fork over the tablet. Naia rolled her eyes, but obliged. Emery shut it down, watching as their plan faded from the air. “We’ll make adjustments once we wake up.”
“And what adjustments are those?” Byron asked.
Emery tilted her head. “Something they’ll never expect.”
Byron and Naia regarded her with confused expressions.
“A morning raid,” Emery clarified with a coy smile. “We sleep for two hours. And then we strike at 0900. Today.”
33
It was early morning and Torin awoke to someone shaking his shoulder. It was Von. “No sleep. Machine incomplete.”
Torin yawned, stretching his arms overhead, wishing that the giant lug would leave him be. “Okay, okay. I’ll get right on that.”
Von turned on his heel and walked back outside the glass doors, positioning himself in the same usual spot, as if the coordinates were permanently mapped in his brain. Who was he kidding? They probably were.
Torin turned his attention to the most recent version of the disintegration machine. After sending the schematic of Novak’s chambers to Emery, he’d immediately started working on his original project. He hoped he’d get some sort of response from her explaining what their game plan was, but there’d only been crickets.
Nothing but silence.
He’d double-checked to make sure the message had been delivered and opened. And it had. He’d just have to trust that they’d received it in time and had been able to come up with some semblance of a plan. And that they’d come for him sooner rather than later.
Torin’s thoughts scattered as he looked down at the current prototype. In its current state, it was easier to use than a toaster-oven: place the item on the platform, press the black button, and poof! What was once metal would turn to dust. He placed a sample of carbon steel on the small platform, lining it up just right, then pressed the button. Just as he’d predicted, the sample disintegrated right before his very eyes; what was once indestructible metal turned to tiny specks of dust and ash. He sat back in his chair, rubbing the stubble on the side of his cheek.
It’s too easy.
It didn’t happen often, but he was stumped. Making his masterpiece more difficult to use wasn’t as simple as he’d originally thought. A few ideas sprang to mind, but none of them seemed feasible given the time restriction he was currently under.
He tapped his fingers on the table, waiting for another brilliant idea to come to him. He pulled the omega pendant from the inside pocket of his shirt and stared at it, hoping that it would suddenly shout an idea at him, or at least guide him in the right direction.
“Come on,” he whispered as he turned the omega pendant over in his hands, trying to remember what Emery had told him. “You worked for Emery.”
He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as he held the pendant tightly in his grip. After a few seconds, he opened one eye, dismayed to see the pendant still staring back at him. “Give me something. Anything.” He glanced around him, hoping that maybe his surroundings would change. He had no idea how the pendant worked, but he was determined to find out.
“Omega!” he barked, then squeezed his eyes shut. Upon opening them once again, nothing had changed. He was still in Novak’s lab.
He looked at the pendant more closely. “Omega, omega. Your counterpart is Alpha.” A thought occurred to him. “Alpha and Omega,” he said softly, hoping it would work.
And it did.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the lab, but instead, standing in the middle of FCW’s underground quarters. In Dormance.
I did it! I’m in a flashback.
His heartbeat thrummed in his ears with disbelief and he tried to neutralize his sudden adrenaline rush by taking slow, deep inhales. With each exhale, his heart calmed, but his anxiety only grew. His eyes traveled up a nearby wall and he couldn’t help but gape at the intricate detailing of the room. Sure, he’d seen the underground quarters through a holoscreen when he’d reached out to Emery, but actually being there, in person, was entirely different. The walls were covered in a crisp gold paint with maroon and black embellishments dashed every here and there. He gazed at the marble crown molding, swirls of black, grey, and white intersecting at various points to create breathtaking designs. Two oversized leather chairs sat across from one another, separated only by a coffee table. Torin recognized it all. Images of Emery in that very room flashed through his mind.
He jumped as a door creaked open.
Behind door number one is . . .
Light on his feet, Torin made his way over to the door, peering around the edge to see where it led. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. It was just another hallway of seemingly little significance, but he noticed that, just a few feet away, another door was slightly cracked as well. With his body flattened against the wall, he snuck over to door number two and carefully poked his head around the frame. The first thing his eyes settled on was a blonde head of hair.
“Naia! Oh, thank god,” Torin said as he made his way into the room. “I was starting to get a little nervous there.” He waited for her to turn around, to respond, but she remained still. “Are you ignoring me?�
�� His eyes shifted from the back of her head to the monitors.
Wait a second. This is familiar. Too familiar.
Emery’s file was splayed out on the holomonitor for all the world to see. Line after line of text and picture after picture filled the screen. It was the same scene he’d witnessed after first hacking into the FCW’s mainframe, right before Naia had reached out to him for help. Before he’d found out that she was one of them, one of the good guys. Before he’d ever met Emery.
And he was about to relive it.
He moved closer to Naia, waving his hand in front of her face. “Naia, hello?”
She continued to stare at the screen, scrutinizing every last word.
She can’t see me. His eyes flickered to the screen. Now that he thought about it, he’d never actually had the chance to uncover what was in Emery’s file. His eyes scanned the numerous lines of text, searching for something of significance. And that’s when he saw it.
Emery Rae Parker. Candidate number 082. Eleven-digit microchip identification number: 00000005694. Fingerprint archive.
He watched as Naia pulled a small sphere from her pocket, then released a drawer holding Emery’s black training clothes. And this is where she drops it into Emery’s boot, he recalled, watching as that exact action took place. Torin noticed the scene floating further and further away from him, like he was on a slow train moving backward through time. He clasped the pendant tight, squeezing it in the palm of his hand as everything around him went dark.
When the light returned, Torin found himself back in the brightly lit laboratory, just as he’d left it. The prototype was still on the table and Von was still guarding his post.
He gazed at the omega pendant, feeling amazed by what had just happened. He quickly tucked the necklace back into the inside pocket of his shirt and logged onto the database. He had no choice. He had to hack into the same system he’d just seen in the flashback, the one that stored all participant information for the Alpha Drive initiative. He typed in Emery’s name, tapping his foot impatiently as the system searched through hundreds of files. Finally, it landed on the one he was looking for.
The Order of Omega (The Alpha Drive Book 2) Page 16