Gravity (The Taking)

by Melissa West

  “And an RES is…?”

  “Republic-Employed Spy.”

  Spy. So I was right. That explains the Operative thing. He’s already an Operative…just not for humans, and he wants my help.

  He leans closer to me. “Look, we don’t want a war. We want to live in peace. Here. Coexisting. Just like we were promised when we first agreed to the treaty. We need information on the strategy, information that could be used to force your leaders to relent. But I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”

  “Why me?”

  “What can I say? I like you.” He smiles.

  I roll my eyes. “Be serious.”

  Jackson rakes a hand through his hair, showing his discomfort at the question. “You’re smart, strong, and I can tell you don’t necessarily agree with everything here.”

  “Look, you don’t know me. You don’t know what I think or feel, so don’t—”

  “Don’t I? I’ve known you for seven years, Ari. I know you. Maybe better than you know yourself. And I need your help. I’m asking you, please. Help me prevent this war.”

  I place my head in my hands. I need to think. “Let me make sure I understand—you want me to lie to my dad, turn my back on my species, my people?” I glance through my hands. “Surely you get how crazy that sounds. I’m the future commander, Jackson. Do you really expect me to trust an Ancient over my own family?”

  “No, but I hope you’ll surprise me.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The next morning I sit on Gretchen’s bedroom floor while she surfs through dresses on her T-screen for the upcoming Trinity Masquerade Ball. It’s a huge ordeal, celebrating the rebirth of Earth after World War IV. Everyone will be there, including the leaders from each of the governing countries around the world. After we signed the treaty, our leaders of the time quickly met and decided that part of what caused our past wars was the issue of differing governments. They created the Trinity and set up one in each of five regions—Asia, Africa, Australia, Europe, and the Americas. The Australian Trinity has since been dissolved, thanks to the last leader being unable to have children to continue the legacy of the founding Australian leader. That region is now controlled by the African Trinity.

  The ball itself is usually all social, though I have to wonder with everything going on with the Ancients if it has always been a ruse to get the leaders all together.

  Gretchen, Lawrence, and I usually go together, but this year, Lawrence and I are expected to go as a couple. At first, I felt sick knowing that I would have to tell Gretchen that she couldn’t come with us, that we’d have to meet her there. Remembering the conversation still makes me want to throw up. But with what all I’ve learned in the last twenty-four hours, I don’t have the brainpower to worry about anything else.

  I still don’t understand why Jackson sought my help. Surely Lawrence—the future president—would have been a better choice. Regardless, he did and now I have to decide—help Jackson and prevent a war, or turn him over to Dad and possibly assist with the wipeout of humankind. Saying it in my mind like that makes the decision appear so easy, like whether to eat or breathe, basic life stuff.

  It isn’t easy. It’s impossible.

  Gretchen selects another category of dresses. The program pulls up a virtual version of her body and then crosschecks the perfect dress color, length, and shape, making sure not to duplicate any purchases in the last two years, then gives her fifty options. Each dress appears on the virtual Gretchen, and within a second she’s clicking for the next to appear.

  She no longer lets me choose mine by myself, and instead chooses one for me and then just calls me over to approve the purchase. Any other day, I might protest or at least be annoyed that I have to sit here while she shops, but right now I’m just thankful to be around normal people with normal problems. I want so badly to confide in her.

  My training was canceled this morning. Mom and Dad were both gone when I woke up, handling the repercussions from the address last night. Already the news has reported protestors popping up across the city. President Cartier is supposed to speak tonight to reassure us—yet again—that everything is fine.

  But it isn’t fine.

  “Hey, are you all right?” Gretchen says from her closet, now dressed in her fifth outfit for school.

  “Yeah.” I bite my lip. “Just thinking. What was up with Zeus last night?”

  “No clue. Probably angry about something. I’m sure they’ve worked it out by now.”

  I hesitate. I want to tell her everything, to tell her they haven’t worked it out. I want to ask her advice. I want someone else to come up with the answer of what to do. But I can’t. I’m in this alone. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say, and she goes back to choosing her shoes.

  I think about Gretchen, my best friend since forever, totally mollified by President Cartier’s assurance that we’re safe now. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen if I won’t or can’t help Jackson. But I can’t help him.

  My dad would disown me. Jackson has to understand.

  Another round of excuses courses through my mind, then the memory of the burned land and orange sky finds its way to the surface and I feel sick and guilty all over again. Every time I think of why I can’t help him, I see the Ancient attack or Zeus yelling at Dad. This is so much bigger than me. It’s not my fight, not my place to second-guess Dad.

  That is my logic as Gretchen and I walk into school. I wonder if Jackson will be waiting at my locker for his answer. I thought about it the entire ride to school. I can’t help him. I’m preparing to tell him just that when I round the corner to my locker, but he isn’t there. I breathe a sigh of relief, open my locker, and almost miss a letter falling from inside. It’s paper, like paper-paper. Barely anyone uses paper anymore. I lean in closer to the letter and read:

  If you’re in, meet me at Parliament HQ’s servants’ entrance.

  8:00 p.m. Bring a flashlight.

  —J

  Below the line is an arrow pointing to the right. I flip the letter over and nearly drop it to the ground. It’s a copy of a letter signed by Zeus. At the top are the words PRIME TARGETS and below is a list of ten names. The first name is Grexic Alexander. I stifle a gasp. Dad is their main target. It’s too much. I can’t…

  “Hey, what’s that?” Gretchen asks, reaching around me for the letter.

  I jerk back, shove the letter into my locker, and slam it shut. Thankfully she can’t open it without my keycard. I flash her the most innocent smile I can manage. “Just a note from Dad. Top secret. You know how he is.” I hold my breath as I wait for her response. That’s what sucks about best friends—they know when you’re lying.

  She starts to ask more when I feel a tingling awareness at the back of my neck. Jackson steps up beside me. He stands close, too close. Close enough to divert Gretchen’s attention from the letter to him.

  “Hey, there,” he says to me, his eyes filled with concern.

  “Hey,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady.

  “Will you be there?”

  I look into his eyes, my mind replaying everything that has happened over the last twenty-four hours. I don’t want to believe him, but there’s too much evidence. The rising number of Latents. The attacks. Zeus walking off the stage. And it’s only going to get worse. I can feel it deep in my gut, that horrible feeling we’re all programmed with. It warns us, and right now mine is screaming at me to do something. I can’t just hope this goes away. We have to stop it before it starts. I don’t know if Jackson overestimates the Ancients or underestimates us, but I do know they have abilities and advanced technology far beyond anything we’ve even considered. Jackson said this wouldn’t be a war; it’d be the complete wipeout of humankind. I won’t let that happen.

  “I’m in,” I say. Then I turn to Gretchen, answering her question before she can ask it. “Early Op training stuff. Jackson was brought up early, too.”

  “That’s great,” she says, and I know she means it. Gretchen is no
thing if not sincere.

  I watch Jackson walk away and feel as though a weight has been lifted from my chest. I’ve made my decision, and I know, in my gut, it’s the right thing to do. Now all I have to do is get home before my parents do, sneak into Dad’s office, and steal his master key to Parliament headquarters.

  …

  Exactly three hours later and I’m pacing my house, jumping at the tiniest of sounds. I need Parliament’s master key. I know exactly where the key is kept in Dad’s office; I just need to quit stalling and get it over with. But if I’m caught, death would be a mild punishment.

  I check my phone for the twelve zillionth time. It’s nearing five thirty, which means by now my parents are en route home. I step around the stairs to the transfer door that leads to our training room. Dad’s office is right beside that door, invisible to an average onlooker. He had it designed to blend seamlessly with the wall so only those he trusted most would be able to get inside.

  Trust…I’m one of those people he trusts. And I’m about to betray him. My mind flashes to Dad’s name on the target list. I have no choice. I will help Jackson find a way to stop this.

  I rake my hand over the left side of where I know the door to be. A second passes, and then the door slides open. Inside, the office is eerily quiet. A large desk sits against the back wall, Dad’s favorite chair behind it. Other than the desk, bookshelves line the right wall and a filing system, full of old Engineer records, lines the left. It seems obvious to house the master keys in the filing system, but this is Dad’s office, which means nothing is as it seems.

  I step over to the bookshelf closest to his desk and pull out the first book on the third row. Inside is a tiny keypad. I type in the code 5-12-12-14, a combination of Mom’s and my birthdays. A click-click-click sounds through the filing system as one by one the drawers and cabinets are unlocked.

  I have just started for the third cabinet to the right when the front door announces my parents’ arrival. I race forward and slide the cabinet open but can’t remember which keycard is for Parliament. Is it the gold one or the green one? I replay my dad’s voice in my head. “The Engineers produce red, the Chemists grow green, and Parliament controls the…” I pull the gold keycard off its hook, close the cabinet door, and return Dad’s secret book to the bookshelf.

  I’m about to slide out the door just as my mom calls my name. I cringe. It sounds like she’s in the kitchen. But what about Dad? I edge to the doorframe and peek out. Dad is in the foyer, reading a message or something on his phone. His head snaps up, and I lean away from view, my body tensing.

  I strain my ears to listen for any movement. After several painful seconds, I hear Dad’s heavy footsteps walk from the foyer to the kitchen. I release a long breath, edge to the door again, and peek out. It’s clear. Yes! I slip out. The door shuts automatically behind me.

  I tiptoe away from the door and around the stair rail in the foyer, almost giddy.

  I did it. I—

  “What are you doing?” Dad asks.

  I turn slowly until I’m facing him. “Nothing. Why?”

  “Where did you come from? I didn’t see you down here earlier. Did you see her, Claire?” Mom joins Dad at the open doorway that leads into the kitchen.

  “There you are,” she says. “We were calling for you. Dinner is ready.” She looks from Dad to me and back. “Grexic…stop it. She’s not trying to sneak out. It’s daylight outside. Kids don’t sneak out during the day. Now come sit down before your food gets cold.”

  Dad relaxes his shoulders, but I can still see the questions in his eyes. He thinks I’m up to something. Perceptive as always. Thankfully, I put the keycard in my pocket before leaving his office.

  I brush past him and into the kitchen. Mom made a roast, which is Dad’s favorite, so maybe he’ll lighten up. I sit down at the table and Mom sits beside me, Dad across from us. I want to ask about the attack or Zeus walking off the stage. Then I remember that President Cartier is supposed to speak tonight and hope that will facilitate the talk. “Aren’t you going to turn on the T-screen?” I ask.

  “Why would I do that?” Dad asks, stabbing a chunk of roast with his fork. “I already know what she’s going to say, and frankly, I’m tired of hearing about it. I’d rather discuss your training. Cybil seems pleased with you.”

  “Well, I’ve only had the one meeting with her. Our training today was canceled.” I stare at Dad, confused. He should’ve known Cybil canceled our training.

  “Of course,” Dad says, but I sense there’s something he isn’t telling me.

  We spend the rest of dinner listening to Mom talk about her latest research—some variation on healing gel. I try to follow along, but I’m too focused on the time, which is ticking closer and closer to when I need to leave. Finally, Dad excuses himself to his office, giving me my chance. “I thought I might go to Gretchen’s for a while,” I say to Mom as she’s leaving the kitchen. “Is that okay?”

  Mom walks over and kisses my cheek. “Of course. Be home in an hour, though. You have school tomorrow.”

  I step out of my house and turn left, as though I’m going to Gretchen’s house at the end of my street, but instead I cut across the main road and back up the sidewalk in the opposite direction, toward the tron. I pull my phone from my jacket and message Gretchen: I’m at your house, okay? I know she’ll cover me. I just have to think up an excuse to tell her later. So with that handled, I lift the hood of my jacket over my head and slide into the first seat closest to the door.

  There is practically no one on the tron at this hour—a few warehouse workers and that’s it. I wait for the stop at Business Park, feeling my heart pound against my chest.

  I try to clear my head as I edge around Pride Fountain, past the Engineer building and down the alley between it and Parliament headquarters. It’s darker than dark here. There are no visible doors or entrances.

  An average person might think the alley runs to a dead end. After all, there is nothing but a large cement wall at the end, connecting from one building to the other. But I know better. The cement wall accesses the below-ground auto-walk that goes from building to building. This way, Chemists, Engineers, and Parliament members can go among buildings without others seeing them. I’ve never been on that auto-walk, and as far as I know, it’s restricted for lead personnel. Today, I won’t need it.

  I reach the end of the alley and find the opening in the walkway that I was looking for. In the dark of night, it appears to drop into nothing, but there is actually a series of steps that leads to the servants’ entrance into the building. I pull out the flashlight I packed, flick it on, and shine it down into the opening, only to fall backward as the light flashes over a person standing by the door. “What are you doing?” I whisper. “You’re lucky I didn’t scream, ruining this before we even start.”

  Jackson laughs. “Nah. I trusted you.”

  “Well, move over. I’ve got the key.”

  “Like a master key?”

  “Yeah, I took it from Dad’s office. How else were we going to get in?”

  Jackson shakes his head, evidently in awe. “I thought we’d do the normal thing—break in. But this works,” he says as I swipe the card and hold the door for him to get inside. “This definitely works.”

  We ease down the hall, Jackson insisting on going first, until we reach the servants’ elevator at the end. A scanner protrudes from the wall beside the elevator. I swipe the card, hoping the master keycard works for all the scanners in the building, and instantly the doors pop open. I guess so.

  Once inside, Jackson pulls out a notes tablet and starts clicking through something I can’t see. I lean closer until my arm touches his arm, my face inches from his. “What’s that?” I whisper, unsure if we’re supposed to be all spyish about this or not.

  He turns, and I feel his breath on my cheek. He swallows hard. “It’s a map of the security floor. We’re going to duplicate a video chip.”

  The elevator pings open before I ca
n ask anything further. We step off into a dark hallway.

  “Flashlight?” Jackson asks.

  I click it on, shining a thin ray of light down the hall. He sneaks forward, but I grab his arm. “Wait, security cameras.” I point at a two-inch silver triangle stuck to the ceiling.

  He smiles. “No faith in me, huh? I had someone take care of that. We’re invisible for the next fifteen minutes.”

  “How…?”

  “Don’t worry about it. The video library is down here.” He motions to the right, and I follow close behind. We pass door after door. I wonder what lies within these walls. The truth about the Ancients? The truth about our history? I feel as though I’m walking through a morgue of secrets, as gross and decaying as the bodies at the medical one.

  Jackson stops at a set of double doors and holds out his hand for the keycard. I hesitate. Stealing it was one thing, but handing the master key to an Ancient is on a whole different level. He must interpret my thoughts, because he steps back, giving me room to swipe the key myself.

  A chilly breeze rushes from the room. We slip inside, and the door clicks shut behind us. My heart slams in my chest. We’re here. I’m really doing this.

  I flex my hands to keep them from shaking. The room is nothing but floor-to-ceiling cabinets, a thousand different drawers, and a single T-screen. Each drawer is labeled with a number and letter sequence that makes no sense to me, but Jackson goes directly to a drawer labeled CIV3. He pushes the door in, which should make it pop out, but it doesn’t budge. He pulls on it and tries to wedge his keycard inside it, his face growing redder and redder. I glance around, wondering if the library has a locking system similar to the one in Dad’s office.

  I walk to the center of the room and peer around. Where would they hide the keypad? No, they wouldn’t use a keypad here. They would use a scanner. I study the room, the walls, the lights, each of the cabinets. Then it hits me. I turn back to the door. No one would think to scan the outside scanner once inside the room. Maybe…I step out and swipe the master keycard. Instantly, a series of clicks sounds through the room. “There,” I say. “That’s better. Now, can you tell me what we’re looking for?”