by Tarah Benner
Nothing kills me more than going against my own men, but they’ve already made their choice.
“I’ll let Jade fill you in on the rest,” says Van de Graaf, looking at Maggie with a disappointed expression. “Wyatt and I will greet our guests.”
20
Maggie
I hear the men thundering down the hall — half a dozen Space Force soldiers bent on capturing Jade. I can sense their greed and desperation as they draw closer. On camera, they’re like a pack of bloodhounds straining at their leads.
Tripp and Jonah leave the office to head them off while Jade and I strip in the corner. Ping and Jared debate whether the glass walls are bulletproof, but I just feel sick to my stomach.
Any minute now, they’ll burst through those doors, and phase one of the plan will begin. Phase two requires me to wear Jade’s outfit, and it’s the phase that I’m dreading the most.
In order to pull this off, every aspect of the plan must be executed perfectly. I don’t like our odds of success.
Once we’re changed, Jade looks fierce. With her bulging biceps and strong legs, she fills out the Space Force blues perfectly. I’m wearing the white hostess dress and the jaunty blue scarf, but I still don’t look like a bot. I’m several inches too short, my hair is too frizzy, and the glasses are a dead giveaway.
Jade kicks her shoes over to me, and I put them on. My feet slosh around in the high wedges, so I know my boots must be painfully tight on her.
I hear voices outside of Tripp’s office and see blurred outlines on the other side of the glass. I hear Jonah’s rumble of anger and more male voices. A second later, the door flies open, banging off the wall.
Five men and one woman are standing in the hallway. One of the men has his gun pointed at Jonah, whose arms are raised overhead.
“What the hell?” snaps Tripp, backing into his office. The look of fury doesn’t suit him, but there’s a true inner darkness in Tripp that wasn’t there before. It appeared right after his father died, and it hasn’t left his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Van de Graaf,” says one of the men. “But we’re here to collect Jade Armaz. We’d hoped to do that with your cooperation, but this is a matter of national security.”
“Cut the crap,” Tripp snaps. “We heard Mordecai’s announcement. I know all about your little reward, so don’t act like you’re a goddamned hero.”
The man’s face is a hard mask of stone, but I can tell Tripp’s words have had an effect. The other men look angry and sheepish, but they still seem prepared to go through with their plan.
“Are you making a claim on this fugitive?” asks the man who spoke.
“What fugitive?”
One of the men waves a gun at Jade, who is standing like someone braced for a fight: shoulders back, feet wide, hands curled into fists.
“Jade Armaz, you are under arrest for the attempted assassination of President Graham.”
“You’re arresting me?” says Jade with a note of suspicion. “Officially?”
The man’s expression falters. He knows what he’s doing is wrong. He isn’t here to take Jade into custody. They’re taking her to Mordecai to claim that reward.
But he steps forward, and his lackeys follow.
“Wait,” says Jonah, moving to the side to block Jade from view.
“Don’t test me, Wyatt.”
“Fuck you, Hennesy.” Jonah’s voice is stiff, and his face is cold with fury. If there’s one thing he values above all else, it’s honor. Seeing six of his own working with Mordecai is probably more than he can stand.
“What are you even doing here?” growls the one called Hennesy.
“Trying to prevent exactly what you’re doing.”
I glance at Ping, who looks as nervous as I feel. These people are all heavily armed, and Jonah is the only thing standing between them and ten million dollars.
“Yeah,” rumbles another one of the officers. “Good luck with that.”
Hennesy makes a move as though he’s going to sidestep Jonah, but Jonah’s hand moves so fast that his pistol is drawn before the officer takes a single step.
Automatically my hand shoots to my waist but breezes by on empty air. My heart sinks. The belt with my pistol is lying on the chair beside me. I never replaced it after I changed.
Suddenly more weapons appear, pointing at me, Tripp, Jared, and Ping. Tripp is seething. Jared and Ping are frozen. Jade’s expression remains unchanged.
“Lower your weapon, Sergeant,” Hennesy growls. I can see tiny beads of sweat clinging to his mustache. His voice is calm, but I know his heart must be racing. Jonah’s reputation precedes him. “You shoot me, and I will kill your friends.”
“Maybe,” says Jonah casually. Unlike Hennesy, his steady breaths match the tone of his voice. This isn’t the first time he’s been held at gunpoint. “But you’ll still be dead.”
At those words, my heart seems to swell, and I feel something like a protective armor wrap around me. Jonah is an old pro. He thrives in high-pressure situations. No matter how outnumbered we may be, standing with him makes me feel safe.
“Let’s all just calm down,” says Jonah lightly. “No one has to die here.”
“Stand down, Wyatt,” growls Hennesy, sweat beading up on his sideburns and dripping down his face. His nostrils are flaring with nerves and rage. He knows that Jonah has called his bluff.
“Look,” says Jonah, “I came here to prevent exactly what you’re doing. Mordecai is a known terrorist, and handing over Ms. Armaz as a hostage would be playing right into his hands.” He takes a deep breath. “You know that this goes against everything we stand for. So why are you letting yourselves be played?”
There’s a long beat of silence when I think Hennesy might reconsider, but then he lets out a derisive laugh.
“It may go against everything the army stood for, Wyatt, but this ain’t the army.”
From where I’m standing, I can see Jonah’s jaw tighten with rage.
Hennesy continues. “Maverick’s been making money hand over fist ever since Elderon was announced. Have you seen even a cent of those profits?” He shakes his head. “Van de Graaf built his wealth on the backs of men like us. We’re expected to risk our lives to collect the same pathetic paycheck we got in the military?” He scoffs. “I don’t know about you, but I never saw action like this overseas. I’m just giving myself some hazard pay.”
“You think you’ll still have a job when this is all over?” Jonah mutters. “You’ll be busy scrubbing prison toilets.”
“I won’t need a job.”
“Mordecai isn’t going to just hand over the money and let you walk away. He wants us dead — even greedy cowards like you.”
In that instant, a bolt of rage shoots across Hennesy’s face. I feel the flutter of my own breath and wonder for half a second if it might be my last.
Judging by the looks on Ping’s, Jared’s, and Tripp’s faces, they are all wondering the exact same thing.
“Tell you what,” says Jonah, still speaking in that even tone. “I’ll make you a deal.”
A shaky smirk spreads across Hennesy’s face, and he forces out a breath of laughter. “You don’t look like you’re in any position to make a deal, Wyatt.”
Jonah shrugs. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”
There’s a long moment of silence where I wonder if he’s still bluffing. This could all be part of his plan, but it’s impossible to tell.
“You see that pretty blond behind me? Sexy librarian glasses . . . bot uniform?”
My stomach drops as Hennesy’s gaze snaps on to me. I feel slightly woozy from Jonah’s description. Or maybe I’m dizzy with terror.
Hennesy doesn’t say a word, but I can tell he’s listening.
“She’s a journalist,” says Jonah.
Hennesy’s gaze flickers from me and back to Jonah, his fury and disbelief warring for attention.
“She’s been filming us this whole time. Her feed uploads to the cloud auto
matically.” Jonah takes a breath. “If anything happens to her or to anyone else in this room, the press corps will run with the story.”
Jonah lets that little pronouncement fall with the weight of a brick. I hope my face doesn’t betray my fear. I don’t like being the target of Hennesy’s ire.
“I can’t imagine you’d want that video going public,” Jonah mutters.
“So what?” says Hennesy with a note of false bravado. “We’re apprehending a terrorist. There’s not an American alive who wouldn’t do the exact same thing.”
“Let’s not pretend you’re anything but a greedy traitor,” Jonah murmurs. “You’re turning one terrorist over to another for money.”
Hennesy’s nostrils flare with frustration, and I can tell he’s trying to decide how to play this.
“I’m not going to interfere,” says Jonah. “But I’m coming with you to make sure that Ms. Armaz is treated humanely. The American people deserve justice, and she can’t have her day in court if Mordecai kills her in cold blood.”
Hennesy seems to consider this for a moment. I can tell he needs to act as though it’s his decision, but he really doesn’t have a choice. He doesn’t want the world to know he’s working with a terrorist. It isn’t a good look.
“Fine,” he says after a tense pause. “Wyatt, you come with us. But if any of your people follow, I’ll kill you myself.”
I feel a surge of relief as the anxiety drains out of my body. Jonah gives me a pointed look, and two Space Force men approach to cuff Jade from behind.
They confiscate her weapons, and I briefly wonder how she plans to kill Mordecai. They frisk Jonah and force him out at gunpoint, and I see a tense muscle working along the inside of his jaw.
Watching Hennesy wave his weapon at Jonah makes my heart roar with fury. A storm of indignation is rolling inside me, and I’d like nothing more than to inflict as much pain on Hennesy as possible.
I know Jonah never expected to be working against the Space Force, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that he is incorruptible. Jonah will do what needs to be done — no matter what the cost.
Porter watches the Space Force go with a sour expression, and I get an itch of fondness for the overbearing assistant. Porter may be a pain in the ass, but I’m glad we’re on the same side.
Porter and I first butted heads after I learned that he’d bugged me, and I’ve bugged Jade with the same device that I found in Tripp’s bottom desk drawer. It’s clipped inside the breast pocket of the uniform I gave her, so we’ll be able to hear everything she hears and says.
It’s a double layer of insurance: On the one hand, it will give us the evidence we need to clear Jade’s name. We’ll have proof that Mordecai has been pulling the strings in the Bureau and that he’s responsible for the attack on the president. Bugging Jade will also tell us whether or not she’s sticking to the plan. If she goes off script — tries to double-cross us — Jared and I will go to BlumBot to provide some backup.
As soon as the officers disappear down the hall, Jared, Tripp, and I leave the office and creep out behind them. We see a bot with mocha skin and long black hair standing with its back to us, watching Jade and the Space Force leave.
Tripp takes the stapler from the reception desk and tosses it into the hall. I watch the bot’s head snap around and hold my breath. I imagine its processor working to identify the noise.
A second later, the bot turns and clacks down the hallway — away from BlumBot’s offices.
While the bot is preoccupied with the noise, Jared leaps out and tries to tackle it from behind. He half body-slams it into the wall, but the bot is too strong to go down easily. Its dark eyes widen in its preprogrammed expression of surprise, and Tripp jumps in to help Jared take it down. He whips a Maverick Enterprises T-shirt over the bot’s head, securing the ends in a knot.
The bot whips its head around like a horse about to throw its rider, and Tripp uses the opportunity to slam it to the ground. Jared jumps onto the bot’s hips, and I pull Jonah’s knife out of its sheath.
Pinning the bot’s shoulders down with my knee, I make a long incision along the part in its hair and drag the blade down the back of its head. Even with three adults holding it down, the bot is putting up a fight. It’s like performing brain surgery on a mechanical bull, but Jade’s instructions were simple.
I pull back the silicone covering threaded with hair to reveal the inner workings of the bot’s CPU. My hands shake a little as I hold back the silicone scalp to search for the telltale blue chip.
According to Jade, each chip emits a signal that can be used to identify a bot’s physical location. It’s how they distinguish each other from humans and how Mordecai keeps track of his army. Stunning the bot would fry the chip, which is why we need to extract it this way.
The bot’s head moves from side to side, and it takes all my strength to snap it back straight. Wielding Porter’s eyebrow tweezers in one hand, I grip the edges of the chip and pull.
The second the chip is disconnected, Jared zaps the bot with the stunner. Suddenly the bot stops fighting, and I climb off and pull down the hem of the dress. It had ridden up in the back, and Tripp’s wearing an expression that says he got an eyeful.
I shoot him a dirty look. “Quick. Get Ping.”
Tripp and Jared run back to Maverick while I head for the escalators. I sprint up the frozen steps toward the upper deck while Jared and Tripp wheel Ping to the service elevator. The goal is to get him safely aboard Swift 9, and to do that, we need a bot diversion.
If Mordecai happens to be watching the feeds, all he’ll see is a woman dressed as a bot. The bots will read me as one of their own. At least it will buy Tripp some time.
I stop in the atrium to catch my breath, looking over the railing. The humanoids should be responding to the fried bot’s distress signal. At least that was the goal.
While I wait, my mind goes to Jonah, and my heart automatically constricts with fear. Deep down, I know it’s absurd for me to worry about him. He’s spent his whole life training for this; I just played soldier to get a scoop.
Still, watching him leave with the Space Force at gunpoint was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It felt like sending a loved one into battle knowing he might not survive.
It’s not the sort of thing I expected to feel for a guy I barely know. Sure, we trained together and fought together. He kissed me, and I kissed him. I know he wants me. I can feel it. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him.
So what? I think. It shouldn’t mean anything. And yet it does. I know it. I feel an ache of protectiveness for Jonah, even though he’s the last person who needs protecting. I want him by my side, whether we’re fighting or not, and it doesn’t feel right without him.
That’s when I realize I’m falling for Jonah. I don’t just want to sleep with him. I want to be with him — more than I should.
But I can’t think about that. Bots are converging on the deck below. At least a dozen humanoids in white are homing in on the chip’s signal, following the same path I took here.
My heart speeds up as I watch them converge. I drop the chip in a planter by the railing and take off toward the farthest stairwell. I take the steps down two at a time, hoping the other part of our plan hasn’t gone awry.
I reach the docking zone out of breath, clutching at the stitch in my side. I grab a suit from the cupboard behind the reception desk and drag the bottom half up my legs. I grab a helmet and head straight for the jet bridge, not bothering to finish doing up my suit.
I follow the long winding tunnel toward the Swift 9, which is still securely docked on Elderon. I tumble through the tiny door, where Jared and Ping are waiting. Ping has Tripp’s desktop on his lap and seems to be listening in on Jade.
My relief at seeing them is quickly dampened by panic. Carl isn’t here yet.
“Where is he?” I ask, turning to Jared.
“No idea.”
“Shit.”
I’m not sure if Carl being a sloppy drunk makes me feel more or less worried. Being late because he went on a bender is only marginally better than being waylaid by bots.
Suddenly Ping’s face crinkles in concern, and he waves his hand in front of the desktop as though it might have gone to sleep.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice raspy with worry.
Ping swallows. I can tell he doesn’t want me to worry.
“Ping . . .”
Ping signs a shortcut to the desktop, as though he’s trying to adjust the sound.
I don’t think I’m even breathing. I’m frozen in fear, waiting for him to speak.
“We lost them.”
My choking fear crowds out any other emotion. I don’t understand what Ping just said.
“What?”
He shakes his head, fiddling with the desktop. “They were in BlumBot about to see Mordecai . . . I think they were being frisked for weapons.”
“Shit.”
I close my eyes as a swoop of dread overtakes my body. The bots must have found the bug. Jonah is on his own.
Just then, I hear footsteps coming down the jet bridge. I wheel around, heart in my throat, when Carl tumbles into the shuttle. His face is sweaty and out of sorts. He looks agitated and fearful.
“What are y’all waiting for?” he grumbles. “Strap in and let’s get the hell outta here.”
But I’m too worried to answer Carl, and he quickly loses his patience.
“Are y’all deaf?”
“We can’t go,” I snap. “Not yet.”
“It’s now or never,” says Carl, utterly disinterested in whatever is going on with our group.
“Not without Jonah,” I growl, channeling that inner fierceness that allows mothers to lift cars off their children.
“Look, missy. I’m not fuckin’ around. This shuttle is leaving in five minutes whether you’re on it or not. If you wanna stay here and be killed, fine, but —”
In that instant, I feel myself cross over from flustered to furious. The emotional turmoil that has been bubbling inside of me all rises to the surface at once, bursting out with a wrath that seems to terrify Ping.