by Sara Creasy
Beside her, Edie felt Finn tense. Edie had never heard of Fairbairn, but in truth any Fringe world name meant equally little to her.
“Since when did Fairbairn need this sort of help?” Finn asked.
“It isn’t the most desperate world, that’s true. Still, we’re heading in a bad direction. Despite our government taking a neutral stance during the Liberty War, since then the feeling has turned largely anti-Crib. Not a bad thing in itself. In fact, it’s helped me bolster the reputation of the Saeth to the point where I no longer have to hide my identity as one of them. But it’s led to five years of unrest, bordering on civil war.”
Valari’s choice of pronouns made it clear that Fairbairn was her homeworld. As she continued to explain, Edie realized something else. Valari had recruited Finn as a young man…on Fairbairn? Was Fairbairn his homeworld, too? She absorbed each new detail about him and filed it away.
Finn looked a little surprised at the information as Valari continued.
“Our economy is wrecked. We’ve struggled to pay the Crib’s renewal fees for years, and now we’re several months late. The BRATs have shut down and our ecosystem is stumbling.”
“If it’s only been a few months,” Edie said, “then this planet sounds like an ideal candidate for a demonstration of the crack. If it works, you’ll get quick results—an immediate reversal of at least some of the damage.”
Finn didn’t look particularly happy, which confused Edie. Valari seemed to understand.
“I can see you have mixed feelings about this,” Valari said. “Just think, if it works, you can return home a hero.”
“That’s unlikely,” Finn said. “We have to maintain anonymity. Otherwise Edie becomes a target for every desperate Fringer out there.”
Valari shrugged. “So where should I tell the authorities on Fairbairn I got the crack?”
“I don’t know,” Finn said. “And here’s another problem—if you use it on Fairbairn, you’ll be seen as playing favorites, saving your own world first. The Saeth don’t do that.”
“Then use Cat,” Edie said. “She comes from Cameo, a Crib world, but for years she ran with rovers. She’ll be seen as neutral. She has contacts on the Fringe who will believe any tale she spins about how she acquired the crack.”
“So, Cat approaches Valari with it,” Corinth said, “perhaps indirectly via these contacts of hers, and Valari vouches for her in order to convince the authorities to upload it.”
Valari thought about it for a moment. For the first time, she actually looked pleased. “It just might work,” she said at last.
“You’ve got one helluva bunch of buddies, Finn.” The scrambled line rendered Cat in tiny distorted cubes of light that lent a bluish tinge to her dark features. “So polite. So friendly. Jezus. I might just invite them to join my book club.”
“Nice to see you again, too,” Finn said with half a smile.
“So—the Saeth got me, the Crib got you. Who’s better off, huh?” Cat had fought for the Crib during the Reach Conflicts, and her opinion of the Saeth was based on Crib propaganda. Still, she and Finn had just about been on speaking terms by the end of their adventure on the Hoi Polloi. Hopefully, her opinion was changing.
“I know how you feel about the Saeth,” Edie said. “Please take my word for it that you were misinformed about them. I need you to trust them, work with them.”
“I promised I’d help you, Edie. Bring it on.”
Cat already knew about the cryptoglyph. Edie explained about the remote crack she’d made, and that they wanted to test it on Fairbairn.
“So you want me to get the word out to my contacts,” Cat said. “I’ll dangle the carrot, give them enough specifics that they inevitably suggest Fairbairn and put me in touch with that woman Valari Zael.”
Cat couldn’t see that Valari was standing in the room, to one side of the holoviz. The way she said that woman spoke volumes about how the two of them had got along.
“Yes,” Edie said. “We need this to look like Fairbairn is the most obvious choice. And it is. With Valari’s help, it’s also the one place we’re virtually guaranteed they’ll listen.”
“Okay. Send me the crack.”
“Wait!” Valari stepped into view, put her hand on Edie’s arm and shook her head, concerned. “I would rather send that code to Fairbairn myself. I don’t want it out there, out of our control.”
Cat caught on fast. “Ah, there you are, Valari. You don’t trust me? I thought we were best friends.”
“If the crack doesn’t work properly,” Valari said, “if there are side-effects we haven’t considered…It’s safer to keep it under control until we’re sure.”
“As soon as we give it to Fairbairn’s authorities, it’s out of our control,” Edie pointed out.
“I’ll make sure they don’t spread it around if it’s faulty.”
“You can’t guarantee that. Besides, Cat won’t spread it around if it’s faulty, either.” Edie spoke over Valari’s objections. “I made this thing. I decide who gets it.”
As Edie spoke, she surreptitiously pressed her fingers to the console’s port, connecting her splinter to the comm system.
“Got it,” Cat said with a grin.
Valari scowled, her lips tightening. This woman was just not used to someone else making the decisions.
“Find a way to persuade Fairbairn to use it,” Edie told Cat. “If their tecks say it worked, send it across the Reach and get the word out.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks, Cat. It’s good to know you’re out there and on our side.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes. Give Finn a big kiss for me.”
That made Finn smirk and Corinth chuckle. Edie cut the link.
“On to the next order of business,” Corinth said. “The leash.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Valari said. “I’m heading back to my quarters to write a proposal for my contacts on Fairbairn.”
When she’d left the lab, Corinth pulled up a seat to the console and continued. “I have a pretty neat idea on cutting the leash. Actually, more like tricking it into accepting a new input in lieu of transmissions from Edie’s chip.”
Finn didn’t hesitate. “Let’s do it.”
“Not so fast,” Edie said. “Explain exactly what you intend to do.”
“I create a recorded loop of your brainwaves and code it into his chip’s receiver,” Corinth said. “Then, as far as it knows, you never leave his side.”
Edie took a moment to absorb it. The leash was a line of communication between their chips that transmitted and received her brainwave signature, combined with a biocyph lock that connected his chip to the bomb in his skull. As long as her brainwaves were being received, the bomb would never detonate.
Finn was looking at her expectantly.
“It makes sense,” she said, feeling hope tickling at her heart.
“If it works,” Corinth said, “we can thank my friend on Minehead. She’s the one who suggested it.”
He placed his palmet on the table and the three of them sat around it. Recording the brainwave signature took only a few minutes. Corinth uploaded it to Finn’s chip via a hardlink.
“Imprinting now.”
He used his palmet to code the commands while Edie followed his work by riding the hardlink. She had no direct access to Finn’s chip but she could hear its echo, the clench of the leash, the locked tiers containing the detonator. She had to push back a sense of frustration, knowing she’d have done the job ten times faster using a direct link between her wet-teck interface and Finn’s chip. But Corinth was good—he could only scratch the surface of the biocyph in Finn’s head, but it was enough. And he was meticulous and careful. She felt confident he’d do the job right as he integrated her brainwaves into the chip’s circuitry.
“Now we just have to switch over the connection,” Corinth said.
He made it sound benign, but it sent a bolt of panic through Edie. Finn gave her a quick look and sh
e tried to force a smile, but her nerves killed it. They’d made a new connection, now they had to cut the old one—the true leash, the one connected to her splinter.
If it worked, she told herself, this would be the last time Finn would ever suffer the discomfort of feeling her emotions buzzing across the leash.
If it didn’t work…
“Let me do it,” she said.
Corinth looked at her with surprise. “Are you sure? Finn—?”
Finn said nothing. His eyes locked onto hers and she saw no fear there, no uncertainty. Only trust. Then he nodded. Yes, he was sure.
Edie was terrified, but she knew she had to be the one to do this. If Finn was about to die before her eyes, she wanted to know she’d tried everything she could to prevent it. Even if that meant being the cause of it. And she didn’t want it to happen in this cold impersonal lab, in front of a stranger.
“Not here,” she said. “We’ll find somewhere else, just Finn and me.”
CHAPTER 17
The garden was open access for all crew. Finn’s crew key wouldn’t get him anywhere else on Deck A, but he could get into the garden. This was the one place in Crib territory where he got equal treatment.
Edie had only seen a tiny wedge of the garden through Natesa’s office window. In total it was a hundred times bigger, with several windows from the admin deck overlooking it. A ribbon of light outlined each window but the rooms beyond were dark—the admin staff kept regular hours and it was the middle of the night. The garden, too, was in its nighttime phase. The narrow, raised walking path was lit with dimmed striplights marking its edges.
The soft light made Finn’s dark hazel eyes shine, and his hand closed around Edie’s, warm and reassuring. The warmth spread up her arm and filled her chest. It squeezed her heart and stole her breath. She had to think to remember how to breath. In and out, in and out.
They stepped onto the path, treading on scattered stray leaves, green with purple undersides. No doubt someone would sweep the debris away before it died and turned brittle, especially with important Crib guests on board. The vegetation surrounding them stood still and silent, the only sound a calming trickle of water somewhere nearby. This was no natural world. Plants had been carefully positioned to create pleasing silhouettes, with species artfully mixed together in contrasting colors and shapes.
The path branched and at random Edie chose the left. They came to the water feature, a simple waterfall flowing over stacked river stones into a small pool. Their approach triggered a sensor and the bottom of the pool began to glow.
Edie knelt on the ground beside the pool, drawing Finn down with her. She disentangled her fingers from his and pressed her palms against her thighs, feeling the skin grow clammy.
“Are you sure?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“We don’t have to do this right now.”
“Then when?”
“When we’re safe. When we’re free.”
“If you’re right about Natesa, I’ll be dead before that happens.”
“Or I could kill you right now, attempting to free you.”
“I can live with that.”
They shared a smile at his joke.
“Finn, I’m scared.”
“I’m not. It’s okay, Edie.”
He laid an arm across her shoulders and pulled her gently toward him, until she was leaning against his chest. He’d been scared of what Natesa had the power to do to him—she’d felt his visceral fear at being manipulated and controlled. But this time, she was the one with his life in her hands. He wasn’t scared of dying, she realized. A soldier expected death. He was scared only of being powerless to choose how he died. Natesa’s games weren’t the battles he’d chosen to fight.
Cutting the leash, right here and now, was the choice he’d made. Whatever the consequences.
Tilting her face, she saw his eyes were closed, his expression peaceful. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and pressed her fingertips against his left temple. The contact made her skin tingle. She’d done this before—it felt like a lifetime ago—meddled with his chip to save his life. Then he’d been a random unknown serf, and if she’d failed then, she’d have surely forgotten him already. But now…Flashes of the man passed through her mind—his strength and loyalty, his touch, his smell, his sense of honor and fairness. If she failed, would the rest of her complicated life even matter? The children, the Fringe worlds, least of all Ardra…She couldn’t imagine any of it mattering if Finn wasn’t at her side.
If she failed, Achaiah would pay. He was on this very ship, wasn’t he? She’d find him and kill him.
She pushed aside the flush of hatred and concentrated on Finn’s chip. Its datastream washed over her, a song she knew well. She checked Corinth’s imprint again. And again. The leash appeared to have transitioned to the new input. It looked good. That was really all that could be said about it. She and Corinth were both working in unknown territory. But it looked good. It had better be good enough.
She drew a deep breath and cut the old connection.
Her breath came out in a shaky gasp.
So did Finn’s. His arms closed around her a little tighter. Then, “I can’t feel you anymore.”
No interference. The leash was cut.
And he was still very much alive. His body radiated heat that soaked through her skin as they huddled together. Her heart pounded, and though he might feel it against his chest, he would no longer sense the emotional turmoil that went with it. Edie had to clear her mind to assess why she felt so agitated. For the first time since she’d met him, his life did not depend on hers. He could leave this ship—leave her, at any time. In fact, even though he was officially still a serf, Natesa would throw him off one way or another as soon as she found out the leash was cut. Edie had to trust he could take care of himself when that happened. Her obligation to him was over.
Would he take her with him? Why should he, and risk both himself and his comrades? Natesa would never give up on tracking her down, especially if Edie stole the children…if that was even possible. More than likely, her obsession with rescuing the children would doom their entire escape plan.
She had to refocus. She had to put Finn first and not be sidetracked by what she perceived to be a tragic injustice against the children.
She realized she’d pulled away from him, and her forehead ached with tension. He didn’t need the leash to know she was troubled. He grasped her chin and turned her face toward his, until their eyes met.
“Don’t leave me behind,” she said.
“I won’t.”
“If Natesa finds out the leash is cut, she’ll make you leave.”
“Then we won’t tell her.” He made it sound like the most obvious decision in the world.
“Valari will leave me behind if there’s any chance your escape is compromised.”
“I won’t let her. I will never leave you behind.”
She believed him with a certainty that shocked her. She’d never expected to be so sure of him. But she knew him well enough to know that once the words were said, his honor depended on making them true.
He’d given up his freedom once before, because of her plan to help the Fringers. That mission was accomplished—with the crack safely distributed, the Fringe worlds didn’t need the cryptoglyph. They didn’t need her or Finn anymore. She couldn’t ask him to risk his freedom again over her emotional entanglement with the children.
“The children…Finn, we can’t risk it. I understand that now. Maybe one day, somehow, we could come back for them. But we can’t take them with us.”
His eyes narrowed. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes, it’s what I want.” It wasn’t. But it was the best solution to her conflicting objectives. “Thanks for sticking up for me, though.”
“I want to give you what you want.”
She released a shaky sigh. “You’ve no idea how good that sounds. Nobody has ever…” Her throat closed over and she couldn�
��t finish.
“I know that. I’m on your side, Edie.”
Finn lay back on the hard ground, pulling her close so they were lying side by side, facing each other. He kissed her gently and she responded, and they explored each other with lips and hands—unhurriedly, like they had all the time in the world, rather than with the intention to arouse passion. After the tumultuous emotions of the past few days, his quiet embrace was exactly what she needed.
Despite Natesa’s change of heart about Edie giving a presentation to the VIPs, she hadn’t changed her mind about Edie investigating Caleb’s files. In the morning Edie found a new set of files available to her at her console in the lab—Caleb’s work over the past few months, ever since he joined the project.
Edie’s thoughts were on the planned escape, which was scheduled for late in the evening. She could’ve postponed looking at the files, claimed she was too busy, and then by tomorrow she’d be gone. But in truth she was curious. Exactly what was Caleb hiding? Her innate feeling about the situation on Prisca bore little resemblance to the glowing reports Caleb was handing Natesa every day.
She went straight to the most recent sims of Prisca’s BRATs. She was used to dealing with the error logs that Caleb generated from this data, so with those fresh in her mind, any discrepancies should stick out.
It didn’t take long to find an unusual command in his code—an instruction to ignore a certain persistent glitch in the datastream before generating the daily error logs. Edie followed the glitch back through time, but she already knew what it was before she traced it to its source. She knew exactly what Caleb had done, and why.
Natesa proved impossible to track down, as she was too busy entertaining her guests. Edie wrote her a quick report and then called Caleb on the planet’s surface. He was outraged to learn she’d been going through his files.
“I’ve spent years building my databases,” he spat out, wild-haired and red-faced. “Don’t you dare trawl through them to pilfer my subroutines. My professional reputation depends on the innovations I’ve developed, and I don’t need the so-called top cypherteck in the galaxy stealing my ideas.”