by Audrey Faye
He left the room, swinging his arms like that human girl who came to the lab with her parents. Carefree, unselfconscious. As soon as he cleared the door into the sitting room, the conversation began again at a more vigorous pace.
Certain that Miss Maren would keep everyone occupied, Quinn dashed upstairs. When he got to the third floor, he bumped into Preston.
“Whoa, there, where are you going so fast?” he asked. “And why are you up here?”
“Um,” he glanced down the hall. No sign of Lexa. “The Shaws wanted me to ask if everything was ready with their rooms.”
Preston’s forehead wrinkled as one of the security guards got up from his chair outside the door to the suite. “Of course it is. Now, down to the second floor with you before we both get in trouble.”
Quinn nodded and jogged down to the second floor, fuming the whole way. He headed to his room, changed into his training gear, then went to the gym. As he expected, Doc was there, waiting.
“Well?”
“Miss Maren is keeping everyone busy, but they have a guard on the suite door. I have no idea where the second guard is.”
“Lexa hacked into their com system. The second guard is off duty. They’re taking shifts.”
Good, that meant he wasn’t inside the room. He took a deep breath. “Where’s Lexa?”
Doc grinned and pointed to the rafters. The vent grate was hanging open. “Slithered right in.”
Quinn eyed the narrow duct. “Must be nice to be small.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Doc said. “She was going to find the data pad and plug in a decoder. You’re on decryption duty to grab the right files.”
He nodded and went to the data bank in the corner. “Doc? They were having an interesting conversation at dinner.” He lowered his voice. “About the Quad.”
“Don’t even want to know. Safer that way,” Doc said, backing toward the door. “But make sure you two aren’t traced. This runs perfect, got it?”
“Perfectly,” Quinn murmured.
Doc threw up his hands. “Now’s not the time to correct anyone’s grammar.”
After he left, Quinn focused on the data feed. Blank. Empty. Nothing.
“Where are you?” he whispered.
Twenty minutes ticked by so slowly that Quinn thought time had stopped. His palms were slick with sweat, and he couldn’t help replaying a scene in his mind; one in which Lexa was caught in the governor’s room, then dragged away by Piers, never to be seen again.
He pushed his chair back. He had to find her, even if it meant risking getting caught.
A blinking cursor popped up on the screen. Then “LP Online” spelled itself out before his eyes.
His com beeped. “You in?”
“Yep,” she breathed. “Gotta be very quiet, okay? Like bunnies.”
“You have a weird sense of humor. And where have you been? I was about to come looking for you.”
“Got stuck in the ventilation shaft, but that doesn’t matter. I’m in their room. Do you see the data pad on your screen?”
A series of icons flooded his station. “Yes.”
“Okay, so what are we looking for?”
“Can’t you leave the trace and come back?”
“Nope,” she whispered. “They’ll see the hack. Gotta do this now, then delete the trace. So get busy before I’m caught.”
Grumbling under his breath, Quinn typed in a series of search commands: Precipice, Maren DeGaul, outlands, sex.
“Sex?” Lexa sounded scandalized. “That’s so gross!”
“And if Miss Maren wants their secrets, maybe that’s something she can leverage. Doc always says that sex and lies are what get you into the most trouble.”
Data streamed across the screen, and nothing notable popped up. Quinn bit his lip, wondering. Then he typed in “Quad.”
Instantly, files flooded his screen. Most were normal stuff like internal memos or governmental edicts approved by the Quad. But there was one that stood out.
It was called “Independence.”
Quinn copied the Independence file and cut off the connection. “Lexa, I’m done. Break the hack and get downstairs.”
No answer.
“Lex? Lexa?”
Nothing but static. He had no idea what happened, but her sudden silence couldn’t be good.
A bang sounded in the wall near the duct, and Lexa, covered with dust, slid out of the opening. Just when he thought she was going to fall headfirst to the floor, she caught a training rope and swung around for a second before climbing down.
“Did we get anything?”
“Yes, but what happened to you?”
“Almost got caught.” Her eyes shone with pride. “Almost.”
“Did they come back from dinner early?”
“Nope. Guard shift change—they sweep the room at each change, apparently. I had to bug out, but I managed to cut the connection before I left.” Lexa puffed out her chest. “Never saw or heard me. I’m the best sneak ever.”
“Okay, okay, you are the best sneak ever.” He pointed at the screen. “This was all I could find.”
“We giving this to the boss lady?” she asked. “Or are we gonna read it first?”
“Of course we’re going to read it first,” he said, laughing, and opened the file.
Dear Mr. Shepherd,
What you propose is interesting, but how do I know the outlanders will keep their word? If we don’t succeed, there won’t be a place on Earth I can hide. Do you have any assurances that your intel about the Quad is accurate? And, if so, how can you get close to them?
As for my end of the bargain, I’m collecting powerful allies to assist us with our cause. Once I have them convinced—or bought—we can proceed.
R. Shaw
“What’s all that?” Lexa asked. “Is he messing around with the outside?”
Quinn thought about dinner, how the governor dismissed Miss Maren’s concerns about the outlanders disrupting her shipments, and how he wanted to keep the artificial tech in Triarch City alone as an advantage. What was he up to? Did he want to stir up the outside so Triarch could break away from Quad control?
If so, the governor was right in his note—he was a dead man.
“It’s big,” Quinn said. “Good work getting into the room.”
“So now what?” she asked, brushing dust out of her hair and letting out a huge sneeze. “Those ducts need a good cleaning.”
“After we’re done with this, I’ll send you back through with a scrub brush.”
She smacked his arm. “Not nice. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Now,” he told her, “we listen and learn.”
Quinn huddled in the butler’s pantry cabinet just behind the library. He’d invented a little com amplifier—something Dr. Martine had suggested as a test—that allowed him to hear through the library wall. He’d sent Lexa back into the rafters, and she should be right above them by now.
“We can’t delay,” the governor was saying. He sounded cross, which meant Miss Maren had him where she wanted him, most like. “We need to move now.”
“I don’t see how that’s wise,” Miss Maren said, her voice cold and clipped. “I won’t help. But I won’t stand in your way, either.”
“Better than nothing,” the governor said. The sofa creaked. “I think we’ll retire for the evening. I beg you to reconsider. There won’t be a better time than this.”
“Give me tonight. If I change my mind, we can discuss it over breakfast before you return to the city.”
Their voices faded as they moved across the room. Quinn waited sixty seconds before easing out of the cabinet.
Preston stood right in front of him, holding a tray of highball glasses. He jumped and the glasses rattled, but he didn’t drop them. “What were you doing in my cabinet?”
His shoulders slumped. He’d lie to humans, but not to a fellow artificial. “Miss Maren asked me to gather intel on the governor. This seemed like a good way to do it.�
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“Yes, but she was in the room. What were you going to learn that she doesn’t already know?”
Quinn shrugged and forced a winning smile. “It’s good practice, anyway. Goodnight!”
He hurried away from Preston, who was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. Better for the butler to think him crazy than to be caught.
When he got upstairs to the training room, Doc and Lexa were waiting. Doc said, “Maren’s coming up. Get anything?”
“I think so,” Quinn said, hoping he was right.
The click-clack of fancy high-heeled shoes announced her arrival. When she and Dr. Martine came inside, Miss Maren looked at both of them, her nose wrinkled. “Well?”
Quinn gave her a data stick with the file on it. “Lexa got into their rooms, and we copied his data pad. We found one file that might be of particular interest. It’s called Independence.”
She cocked her head. “Is it now?” A slow, cold smile spread across her face. “We got him. We finally got him.”
“What happens next?” Lexa asked.
Miss Maren gave Dr. Martine a calculating look. “You just bought yourself six more months, Caldwell. Don’t waste them.”
Then she was gone.
“What did that mean?” Lexa asked, sounding panicked.
“Easy there.” Dr. Martine leaned down so he could take her hands. “It means everything is going to be okay.”
“Good work tonight,” Doc added. “Now go to bed.”
Quinn tugged at Lexa’s sleeve. “Come on.”
On the way to her room, she asked, “Was Mr. C right? Is it okay?”
“For you, I think so. For the governor, I doubt it.” He stopped by Lexa’s door. Who cared about the governor when she was safe, at least for a while longer? He hadn’t felt this relieved since he heard that Piers was going on a three-week business trip last summer. “You did well tonight. Get some sleep and maybe Doc will give us some free time to play tennis tomorrow.”
“You hate tennis,” she said, kicking at the carpet.
“But you like tennis, and I like you.”
Lexa giggled. It was a bubbly sound, full of surprise and sweetness. A tiny spark awoke in Quinn’s heart. She didn’t laugh often, and he decided to find ways to make her laugh more.
He suddenly felt embarrassed and didn’t know what to say or do. He should probably go. “Goodnight, Lex.”
“Goodnight.”
Her door shut with a click, and Quinn leaned against the wall. They had a six-month reprieve, but that’s all it was. Dr. Martine needed to do something to convince Miss Maren for good, but what? Because Quinn wouldn’t let them kill Lexa. No matter what he had to do.
Even if he had to take her place.
With a sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and started toward his room. When the muted sound of gunfire sounded from upstairs, he jumped. It sounded like it was coming from the governor’s suite.
Lexa’s door flew open. Her face was pale. “Are we under attack?”
“No.” He cast a weary glance at the ceiling. “I think the governor just found out that the Quad doesn’t like traitors.”
She was shaking. “I’m still worried they’re going to come steal me away some night, no matter what the boss lady said.”
“If that happens, I promise I won’t stop looking until I find you,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Lexa threw her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. “I love you. You’ve always been my best friend.”
Quinn patted her back, enjoying the fierceness of the hug. “And you’re mine. Time for bed. I promise I’ll see you in the morning.”
She pulled away, smiling and went into her room. Once the door shut again, Quinn stumbled to his own room, exhaustion overwhelming him. He meant what he said—he wouldn’t let anything happen to Lexa.
But that wasn’t within his control. And he only had six months to convince Miss Maren otherwise.
Part 3: Seven Years Ago
“Shhh,” she whispered. “They’ll hear.”
Lexa was trying to teach him how to use the crawl spaces to spy on the kitchen staff. The air ducts had been too narrow for his broadening shoulders—something that had made Doc smirk and Lexa frown with confusion.
“How come you’re getting so…big?” she’d asked, eyeing his arms.
It was all he could do not to show off how well his biceps were coming along. “Growing up, sneak.”
“Huh,” she’d said, before shrugging and running off to climb her ropes. Her interest had left him feeling a little wobbly.
Now, though, they were in utility easements. The passages were wider, so the wiring could be worked on, but he still didn’t like the feeling of being trapped, and his breathing had turned ragged and noisy.
“S-sorry,” he gasped.
She stopped crawling forward and turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Just need a second.” Quinn forced himself to breathe more slowly. Sure, he could bench press three times what Lexa could. He could outrun her, too. But being trapped in tight places? Screws, why did she think this was fun?
“We need to hurry. They’re going to serve the soup any minute.”
He nodded and began following her. There was a service cubby in the corner of the kitchen, and he could hear the cook—human, because why would an artificial care about good food (which totally explained why they both stole cookies every chance they got)—bustling around to ready the salads. Maren was hosting some politicians to talk about the gubernatorial race, and dinner had to be perfect.
He and Lexa overheard them talking on the way to the dining room about the “terrible tragedy” that befell the Shaws and their security team six months ago. Suicide hill, the steep road leading to Maren’s house, was the site of many hovercraft accidents. So no one questioned that they’d gone straight into the lake after their car malfunctioned.
Very sad.
Quinn felt nothing but disgust about the whole thing, especially his part in it. Sure, Governor Shaw had been a blowhard, but his party didn’t deserve to be gunned down while guests in someone else’s house.
The message had gotten through loud and clear to the rest of the council, though. Frak with the Quad, you get a bullet—or four—right through the skull.
Quinn flushed a little at his daring. Cursing was his new favorite vice. Yes, he could curse like most artificials: screws, gears, mech-headed tool. But he liked the feel of the human curse words on his tongue, too. So he used them to keep them from having any power over him.
If he used their words, they meant nothing.
Which was also why, in his head, he’d started saying “Maren” without the Miss tacked on. If Doc could do it, so could he. He was done being a scared little boy.
“She’s leaving!” Lexa’s excitement was barely contained. “Preston came to tell her one of the guests had some questions about the salad.”
The cook had gotten onto them for taking cookies, and she was mean as hell to all the artificials. Quinn had caught her cuffing Preston across the face because the tablecloth had a spot on it—after dinner. The wine stain had come from Maren’s glass, and somehow that was Preston’s fault.
Quinn couldn’t let that slide. So he had decided they needed a new cook.
As dinner had started, he’d disabled the kitchen security camera. The cook, of course, had shooed the guards away, telling them she’d raise an alarm if “a gang of nasty Bolts” showed up, but that she didn’t want them underfoot for no good reason other than to watch her stir soup.
Just like he planned—now they could go into the kitchen without being seen.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They crept into the kitchen. The pot of butternut squash soup bubbled on the stove. It was thick with cream and smelled delicious. Quinn smiled; that wouldn’t last long.
Lexa ran for the salt. He ran for the cayenne pepper. They worked quickly, dumping half t
he salt and a quarter of the pepper into the soup. He’d chosen cayenne because specks of black pepper would’ve been too noticeable in the golden soup.
Lexa went to the door to keep watch. “She’s talking to one of the ladies about the salad dressing.”
Quinn stirred the mess into the soup, rinsed the spoon, and put it away.
“She’s coming back!” Lexa hustled over and put the salt and pepper away. “Into the cubby!”
They raced into the cubby, and Lexa barely had the door closed before the cook hurried in, muttering, “Who does she think she is, asking all those questions? As if we’d alter the menu just for her. The citrus vinaigrette is Miss Maren’s favorite, and I’m not changing it for some two-bit reporter. No, ma’am.”
The barrage of insults continued the entire time she dished up the soup. Quinn didn’t know how she missed the change in smell—cayenne was pretty obvious. But she must’ve been so peeved that she didn’t notice.
Preston arrived a few moments later with empty salad plates—save one.
“Did that hussy not eat?” the cook grumbled. “She’s going to go hungry if she keeps turning her nose up at everything.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Preston said, sounding bored.
She loaded up his tray with the soup and sent him on his way. Lexa had her hand clamped over her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh.
“We need to get back,” Quinn whispered. “If we’re in the training room when this goes down, how could we possibly be involved?”
She made a face. “I can’t lie like you can. I hope they don’t ask.”
They started crawling back to the utility adjunct near the service entrance, when they heard the kitchen door swing open, and a panicked Preston saying, “Miss Maren’s coming… The soup…”
“What did you put in the soup?” Maren’s voice promised pain and suffering. “I understand you weren’t happy with Carolee for not liking the salad, but I won’t have my staff—”
“Miss Maren, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
There was an icy pause. “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t been pleased with your service, anyway. You’re dismissed. You, show her out, then come back and serve the roast.”