I went through the motions of deleting the record. That time, after I typed, “DECEASED,” I watched where the record went. It went to the same part of the structure as I had seen Revik’s go.
I motioned at Garensche. “Ask him to come over here.”
“Bridge,” Wreg began.
“Please,” I said, looking up.
Wreg hesitated, then glanced at Garensche. Calling the seer over, we repeated the same ritual. With Garensche, instead of asking to delete the record, I changed a few details in the record itself. I gave him a mate, with the name of Beulah Organic. Grunting, Garensche slapped me on the shoulder for that, but I barely noticed. I tried to close the record.
It asked me if I wanted to save the changes. I told it “YES.”
I watched where the record went.
That time, it disappeared to a different part of the machine, and the requisite parts scattered accordingly. I motioned over Nikka next.
Wreg watched me work, hands on his hips. The others watched as well, and I could tell they were wondering what the hell I was doing.
By the time I got to “Hulaf, Qualen,” I felt more confident.
“Okay,” I told Wreg. “I’m going to call him.”
“Your mate?” Wreg subvocalized. “You are sure?”
I shrugged. “Reasonably sure. I’ll see what he says.”
Wreg continued to look perplexed.
I sent up a ping to Revik.
Immediately, his presence surrounded mine.
Where are you with the machine? he sent.
He sounded more preoccupied that time. It made me wonder just how long I’d been screwing around with the keyboard interface.
I considered asking him if everything was all right, then didn’t.
I want to show you, if you have a second, I sent.
I felt his acquiescence.
I projected the structure I’d found over the machine.
I showed him where the deleted records went, highlighting where the data packets dispersed. I showed him the same with the active records.
I showed him how I had tried at first to determine if they were organized in relation to country of origin, where tagged, age, sex, but none of those showed a difference. I instead showed him that the major organizing principles seemed to be danger level, (e.g., “terrorist”) and active versus inactive records. I showed him how above a certain danger level, the files went to a different location in the mainframe compared to those seers on the team who didn’t have an official designation as being involved in anti-government activity.
I sent it all in a packed image, so I wouldn’t have to waste time with him, forcing him to wade through words as I explained. I also showed him how I’d figured it out, by going through the records of every member of the team, along with my own and his.
I felt whispers of reaction off him as I showed him, but his thoughts were all business when he next spoke.
Consistent, no matter where they’re from? he clarified.
Yes, I sent. The biggest differences came from active versus inactive files. They seem to store those completely differently.
Try “Rienbarse, Vashentarenbuul.”
I smiled as I typed. “Vashentarenbuul?”
Need me to show you again?
No, I got it. Do you want me to save it or kill it?
Save it.
I went through the same ritual of changing it then saving it.
The record went to the same place as the others had gone.
Try another for me, love, he sent. Uggentente, Yosef.
I typed that one in, too. Deceased? I asked him.
No. Try saving that one, too.
I did so. That time, it asked for a different password.
Revik gave me a string of numbers, which the machine took.
What are you testing? I asked him.
Clan affiliateds with Vash, he sent. With Yosef, those working directly for human intelligence with a high security rating. I thought maybe they’d have them classified differently.
I watched where the record went, feeling Revik watching with me. The second time, it went somewhere different.
Okay, try another one, he sent. Nubaai, Yimeni.
I typed that in. Saved?
Yes.
It asked me for another password. Revik gave me something different that time, which made me wonder where he was getting these.
The password took. The data went to yet another storage facility.
What was that one? I asked.
Ex-military. Black ops.
I could feel him doing something again, so didn’t ask any more questions.
He read off more names. I helped him track their progress through the machine’s data structure. The vast majority of the files seemed to disperse with almost an identical pattern, but at least five storage variations existed.
Revik took a snapshot with his light at each that surfaced, mapping it back to the physical layout reflected in the structure.
Okay, he sent then. One more, love. Bougni, Frances J.
I typed in that one, too. No extra security screen that time, not even to save changes. I tracked the dispersal with my light, following where the data went.
And that one? I ventured. Who was that?
Work camp. Russia.
I felt my stomach sink. Any more?
No. He was scanning the overall again, examining the nonphysical structure I’d hooked him into. No, I think I’ve got it. The logic’s pretty simple.
He split his consciousness as he continued to look, using another part of his light to check his work.
He checked it again as soon as he’d finished checking the first time.
I shouldn’t have to tell you how impressed I am, Allie.
Something about the way he said it made my cheeks warm.
Do you need any more shots of the actual machine? I sent.
No. You gave me the nonphysical. Fucking brilliant, to go looking for that. It would never have occurred to me it had one.
It would have, I assured him. If you’d been here.
No. I don’t think so.
He still sounded all business. I could feel something distracting him again, so I didn’t argue. Minutes later, I felt him concentrating on the mainframe once more, using my light.
Finally, he withdrew.
Okay, I’ve got it, he sent. Show Wreg these spots. He highlighted them brightly on the machine, and I took a snapshot. C-4, he added. Everything he brought. I’ll handle the rest from here… and then I want you to get out of there, Allie. If the alarms trip for real, they’ll lock down the building. I’m going to start moving the prisoners now.
That’s all you need?
That’s it, he sent.
I thought he would withdraw, but he paused. For the barest second, it was just us again, and he was all I felt. His light slid sensually into mine, but his mind felt deadly serious.
Allie, he sent. Please––be safe. I want to talk when we get back. Really talk. I love you.
Before I could decide if I should answer, he vanished.
37
LIKE CLOCKWORK
I STOOD BY the door, holding the shield tightly over the others as they used the snapshot Revik gave me to locate the correct sections of the machine to place the C-4.
I watched, a little unnerved in spite of myself as Wreg pulled long, wrapped bricks of plastic explosive out of the backpacks he and the other infiltrators wore, and handed them around to make the work go faster.
To distract myself, I dragged the four humans outside the mainframe room door, accidentally knocking their heads on the high rim as I pulled them out through the dead metal opening. I left them by the nearest of the giant vats, all the while holding the shield over the others as they placed the bricks, wedging the pliable, clay-like explosive into different pieces of the machine walls.
They hadn’t trained me on this part, so all I could do was wait, and watch the others work.
Wreg mentioned the
C-4 had an organic component, as well, one that should cause it to produce much higher than normal temperatures upon detonation. He said the organic acted as an accelerant, similar to what they used to demolish old buildings.
They expected the heat to do most of the actual damage.
At least two of the locations required Nikka to climb up onto the mainframe itself so she could get behind the heavy casing. Locating the spots exactly with Revik’s images, she then peered over the edge, motioning urgently while Garensche tossed up more bricks of C-4.
The whole time, even while I dragged the unconscious humans, I focused on maintaining the shield as they accessed my light below the construct’s dome.
I split my consciousness a third way only towards the end, to glimpse nervously out the door to the room filled with those towering vats.
I didn’t sense anyone, but it didn’t reassure me.
I could feel the urgency now.
I had no idea what was happening upstairs, or in the building down the street where Revik was, but that urgency vibrated at the edges of my light, until I had to bite my lip to keep from yelling at the other seers to hurry up.
Finally, I saw Nikka climbing down the side of the machine, jumping the last part, nimble as a cat. Wreg rounded the others up and signaled for us to leave, one by one through the door over which I stood guard.
“You next,” he said, after Garensche passed me.
I followed the motion of his hand. “We have to get out of here, Wreg,” I told him through the transmitter. “Now.”
“I know.” His opaque, black eyes grew unreadable.
I saw him gesture to Qualen, then motion down the line to the others.
We weren’t going back to the room with the sentient wall or the sewers.
We made our way down a different corridor instead, one that ran alongside the room that housed the mainframe. At the end of that narrow aisle, a set of red-painted elevator doors stood out from the gray and green metal.
Garensche already stood at the first elevator’s panel by the time I slowed my steps in front of the gated double doors. I strengthened the shield around his form as he used his light to talk to the wall’s organics.
I could definitely feel something going on above us now, more and more clearly every passing second. I wondered if it was Revik, then remembered again that he wasn’t in this block of buildings. I scanned the blueprints he’d shown me, following the line of the subterranean structure below the streets of São Paolo.
It occurred to me only then––I’d never asked what lay directly above us.
“The elevator will take us to the floor just below the roof,” Wreg subvocalized. “There are helicopters waiting for us, Bridge. They will be there by the time we arrive.”
“What’s going on above?” I asked.
“Response to the Registry. You’re feeling it upstairs, too.” He gave me a grim smile. “That was deliberate, in part. It’s why the boss timed it this way, with us going in after him. He wanted them distracted to help us get a clean exit.”
For the first time, I realized I was worried about Revik.
So much so, I couldn’t think straight as I remembered how preoccupied he’d felt when we last spoke. I hadn’t even asked him how many he was bringing with him into the main Registry building, or how he planned on transporting out all of those seers who’d been crammed into cells on the lower floors.
I hadn’t asked him much of anything about his end of things.
I’d been a lot more worried about screwing up my side of the op.
I thought about how much more heavily guarded, surveilled, trafficked and populated the Registry building must be, no matter what time of night he’d entered. He had to get a lot of people out—people who were mostly civilians—which meant more intensive work with the security systems, which would also be more complicated inside the Registry offices.
The prisoners themselves would have security on them, too––collars, implants, shackles in some cases. They would be in shock, drugged, slow-moving, difficult to organize and completely unprepared for the escape. Some of them might be SCARB agents, hunkered down in the cells with the prisoners as plants to gather intel. Large groups of people always complicated things. They might panic, and split his focus even more.
Also, the Registry’s top executives worked in that building; there would be protocols and private security for them, as well.
Wreg took my arm as the elevator doors opened, leading me inside. I could feel on his light that he was a lot more worried about getting me out in one piece than he was about Revik. The realization reassured me somewhat.
He seemed to feel my anxiety, as well.
“Boss’ll be all right,” he said through the subvocal translator. “Don’t worry about him. He’s already got half the prisoners moved.”
“How do you know?” I said.
He tapped his watch, smiling a little. “Like a clock, your mate. You can set your watch to him. He gave us latitude on this op, with you here, but usually if we’re more than thirty seconds off in either direction, he throws a fucking fit.”
He grinned, bowing his head respectfully.
“…Expresses his displeasure, Esteemed Bridge. It is a conservative approach we appreciate. We have lost not a single infiltrator since he took over planning on major ops.”
Nodding to Wreg, I felt myself relax a little more.
“Conservative is good,” I acknowledged.
The Chinese-looking seer smiled, stretching the pale scar on his lips.
“He bet me dinner you could get us in and out in less than half the time,” he said, smiling. “I may have to pay for dessert now, too.”
I gave a soft snort of laughter, shaking my head.
“Sounds like he owes me dinner,” I said.
“I think you could make that argument, yes.”
More seriously, I added, “I think you might lose that bet, Wreg. I took too long on that machine. He didn’t say it, but I could feel it. He was anxious by the time I finally got him what he needed for that. And we were definitely running up against his timetable.”
Wreg’s eyes grew thoughtful. He looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to change his mind, shaking his head.
“I’ll let him talk to you about that,” he said cryptically.
I could feel we were above ground.
I thought about asking him what he’d meant, then decided he was right. Whatever it was, it could wait. I just wanted to be the hell out of there.
“You and me both,” Wreg grunted. He gestured upwards. “We may have to walk a bit, Esteemed Bridge. Might have to knock out a few guards. But I don’t foresee any real problems. Your husband likely has them mightily distracted by now.”
“What is this building?”
He smiled. “Black Arrow. Corporate building.”
“The work camp people?” I felt sick again. “They put an office up next to the Registry Building? On top of a basement full of dead seers in vats?”
“You are surprised?”
I realized he was right. It shouldn’t surprise me. Not anymore.
“No,” I subvocalized. “I guess not. It’s just tacky.”
He laughed a little, still using the subvocalization.
“Most humans don’t know… they don’t want to know. They think Black Arrow makes legal organics under contract from the World Court. They think they make fertilizer, pesticides, super-seeds. They don’t ask about what they don’t want to know.”
I nodded, leaning against the elevator wall.
Wreg checked his watch. “It’s going to be close,” he murmured. “We took too long, setting those charges.”
“I thought you said we had latitude?” I subvocalized.
“Once he mapped out the placement, we were back on the clock again.” He gave me another wry smile. “He has to time everything right, princess. A lot to coordinate.”
He checked his watch again, looking up at the ceiling, as though willing the
elevator car to move faster.
Below us, impact concussions began. I heard them right before they shook the elevator floor. Wreg grabbed my arm.
“Hold on,” he said. He looked at the lit numbers over the door.
Right then, I heard an alarm go off in the building around us.
Wreg was still staring up at the elevator numbers. It occurred to me that he was worried the elevator might shut down, locking us inside. He signed something to Garensche and the larger seer gestured back. From his smile and negative gestures, I could tell he was confident.
Wreg’s thick shoulders relaxed.
He looked at me.
“We went up in case of collapse,” he explained, seeing the question in my eyes. “The mainframe storage room is directly above the tunnels we walked through to get here, princess. Boss didn’t want to risk it.” He smiled faintly. “This is also faster. He didn’t want us in here for long after. He knew they’d lock down the building. I was worried the elevator might get shut down if they knew we came from the sub-basement, but Gar already handled that end. As far as the organics are concerned, we came from the parking lot.”
I felt my jaw harden.
Feeling his eyes on me, I turned, staring up at him.
“You used tranquilizer darts, presumably for my benefit. You watched me drag those people out of the mainframe room. You knew neither thing would make any difference.” Seeing his dark eyes flicker in surprise, I clenched my jaw harder. “Next time, just tell me if you’re planning on killing people, Wreg. I’d rather just have the truth… not be coddled like some child.”
There was a pause where he just looked at me, that flicker of surprise still visible in his eyes. That surprise held a measure of shame now, but I honestly wasn’t certain what the shame meant, or why Wreg felt it.
“Of course, Esteemed Bridge.” He stripped all trace of familiarity from his words, using the more formal verb tense in Prexci.
“My profoundest apologies,” he subvocalized, bowing.
I saw the others watch, their eyes vaguely nervous as they glanced at me. I remembered they couldn’t hear us without subvocal translators.
“I was thinking only of your safety, Esteemed Bridge,” he said then. “The Sword told us to find a way to shield any seers or humans we had to knock out, in order to keep his agreement with you. I confess I made a decision in there. I didn’t want to take the time.”
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