by AJ Steiger
No. No, that’s crazy. “Why should I believe you?”
“It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not. But the Blackcoats have known this for a long time, ever since hackers found the information in IFEN’s private database and leaked it on the Deep Net. Classic IFEN. As long as suffering happens silently, out of sight, then to them, it’s not real.”
I gulp, pulse fluttering in my throat. Why does the revelation rattle me so much? After learning about IFEN’s illegal experimentation and secret police, this shouldn’t be surprising. But this… this is somehow even worse. A dozen ads spill into my head like a deck of playing cards—a calm-faced woman staring out over the words, My life, my choice. A soft pink sunset under the words, When all else fails, a gentle sleep is the kindest answer. A pink pill alongside the tagline, Dignified, painless, humane. Ask your doctor. I think about all those vulnerable, depressed people seeing the pretty ads and succumbing to the temptation of oblivion, swallowing the pills and closing their eyes to drift off to sleep.
I imagine those same people waking up paralyzed, helpless, their bodies on fire, spending their last moments in silent agony, unable even to scream. That would have been Steven’s fate, if I hadn’t reached him in time. That terrifying night is still fresh in my memory—the moment I saw him crumpled on the floor and knew what he had done.
“Now, tell me, Lain,” he continues calmly. “Do you know anything about why the police were waiting for you?”
“I was there.” I squeeze the words through clenched teeth. “I could have been killed. My friends could have been killed. Ian was captured. Do you really think I helped set this up?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
I glare at him, my mouth loose and trembling. “No. I don’t know anything.”
“Do you have any idea who the traitor might be?”
My gaze jerks angrily away. “No.”
“Look at me, Lain.”
I don’t. He cups my chin in one gloved hand, the touch almost gentle. His clear gray eyes find mine, and I can’t look away. After a long moment, he nods, releases me, and leans back. One by one, he unbuckles the straps holding me to the chair.
I try to push myself to my feet, but suddenly, the exhaustion and the weight of sedatives is too much to bear. My legs are jelly, and my head is filled with cement. It takes all my effort just to hold it up. “What now?” I mutter.
“Now? We keep moving forward with the plan. We don’t have much time left.”
“Time before what? What plan?” My voice cracks with exhaustion. “You people keep talking about some grand plan, but no one seems to have the slightest idea what it is. I’m starting to wonder if even you know, or if you’re just making things up as you go along.”
“Oh, there is a plan. When the time is right, I will reveal everything.”
“So what are you waiting for? Whatever you’re going to do, why not just do it?”
“We need more soldiers,” he says firmly. “What do you think all these rescue missions are about? The greater our numbers, the greater our chance of success when we strike.”
“You’re far too candid with her,” Nicholas calls from outside the room. “You haven’t even told me all the details, and now you’re spilling your guts to one of IFEN’s trained monkeys? What is it about her, anyway? Do you have a thing for girls her age?”
Zebra gives a derisive snort. “Don’t be absurd.”
“Then what?”
“If you’re going to eavesdrop, Nicholas, you may as well come in.”
After a brief pause, Nicholas enters. He’s literally pouting, his lower lip pushed out like a sullen toddler’s.
“Help her to her room,” Zebra says. “She’ll have difficulty walking.”
“Wait.” I swallow. “You’re—you’re going to rescue them, aren’t you? The captives?”
Zebra’s thin shoulders stiffen. “From Area 9? That’s impossible.”
Somewhere beneath the lethargic heaviness, anger stirs, a weak flame. “Don’t you even care? They’re your soldiers.”
He’s silent, lips tight. When I look into his eyes, I see pain there. His fingers are clenched on the arms of his wheelchair, knuckles white. “I don’t have a choice,” he says. “Attempting to rescue them would mean sacrificing many more lives, and the attempt would almost certainly fail.”
“I say we focus on finding the dirty little mole who exposed our plan to the police.” Nicholas bares his teeth in a smile. “And when I find them…” He raises his hands. “I will twist them.” He clenches his hands into fists, breathing hard, and leans toward me. “We’ve worked too hard for this. Too many years, too many sacrifices. I won’t let some sniveling rodent ruin it for us.”
Zebra rotates his chair, turning his back to me, and waves a hand toward the door. “Escort her to her room,” he tells Nicholas. “And if I find out you’ve laid a hand on her, you’ll be the one in the timeout room. And I will leave the lights off.”
Nicholas’ upper lip twitches, as if he wants to snarl. But he merely bows his head and says, his voice soft and subdued, “As you wish.”
Zebra rolls out of the room. Nicholas grips my arm and pulls me to my feet. My legs wobble but hold. As we walk back to the dormitory wing, he leans down and hisses in my ear, “If you tell anyone my eyes are artificial, I’ll kill you.”
I stare blankly. “Why would I tell anyone? Who cares?”
The sapphire blue irises flash. “I tell people this color is natural.”
Good grief. “Fine. Whatever.”
He whirls around and storms away, leaving me standing alone in front of the door to my room.
28
I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I feel like I should be breaking apart, but I’m just numb. Maybe it’s the lingering effects of the drugs. My face still stings from Nicholas’ backhanded blows, and I wonder if it will leave a mark.
There’s a knock on the door. “It’s unlocked.”
Steven enters, his face pale. There’s a hollow, haunted look in his eyes.
“Did they interrogate you too?” I ask.
“No.” He frowns. “What did they do to you?”
I don’t want to talk about this. I just want to lie down, wrapped in this fuzzy cocoon of non-feeling. But already, I can feel it wearing off. Sharp edges of pain poke at me through the cushion of sedatives. “Nothing much. Just asked me a few questions.”
Something dangerous glints in his eyes. “Lain, did they hurt you?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I lie. A bitter knot in my throat swells, and I have to close my eyes to squeeze back tears. The merciful indifference of the drugs recedes like the tide, leaving the pain raw and exposed. “Our friends are in Area 9. There has to be some way we can save them.”
His fingers dig into his thigh. “Rhee told me all about Area 9. No one’s ever broken into it or out of it. Trying would be suicide.”
The tiny flame of anger in my chest flares again, heating me from within. “This isn’t like you. You never give up this easily.”
He looks me in the eye. His face is pale, and the dark circles under his eyes are so pronounced, they look like bruises. “If you’ve got any ideas, I’m all ears.”
I lower my head. More tears crowd my eyes, blurring my vision.
“I mean it,” Steven says. “I want to save them as much as you do.”
Think. I visualize fog rolling away—all the fear and uncertainty and confusion sweeping back, leaving only cold, hard reason. “What if Dr. Swan is willing to bargain?”
Steven gives his head a hard shake. “He’s not going to release them, no matter what we do. You know that.”
But Dr. Swan doesn’t have them. Not yet. My mind races, clicking through the facts like a computer. Ian told me that Dr. Swan has grown obsessed with finding me. During both of his announcements, he asked me to come home. More than anything, he wants me back under his power—not only because it would send a symbolic message
to the URA, but because I represent an embarrassing personal failure for him. I was his ward. He did everything in his power to control and mold me into the person he wanted me to become, and still I slipped out of his grasp. He won’t be able to rest until he has me back. He would give up all five prisoners in exchange for me. I’m sure of it.
“Don’t even think about it,” Steven says flatly.
“About what?”
He stands up, and his shadow falls over me. “I’m not going to let you hand yourself over to IFEN.”
I look away. “What if I could save them all? Wouldn’t it be worth the sacrifice?”
“No, it wouldn’t. You know what IFEN would do. They’d comb your mind for information about the Blackcoats, then they’d find some way to use you against us. It’d do more harm than good.”
He’s right, of course. It’s a moot point, anyway, because there’s no way Zebra would allow me to leave the Citadel. Bitterness knots my throat. “So there’s nothing we can do?”
“Lain…” He exhales and rakes a hand through his hair. Then he shakes his head, as if dismissing whatever he was about to say. Silence stands between us like a wall. “I’m going to figure something out,” he says. “I’m not giving up on them. Okay?”
“Neither am I.” My fingers tighten on my knees. My gaze remains fixed grimly on the floor. “I need to think.”
He hesitates, then reaches out to lay a hand on my shoulder. He lets it linger there for a moment, warm and steady. The touch is only a ghost of what once existed between us, but it’s something. “Just don’t do anything crazy. Okay? Promise?”
“I won’t.”
He gives my shoulder a brief squeeze, and his hand slips away. He stands there for another moment, and I can feel his reluctance to go. Then, quietly, he leaves the room.
I sit on the edge of the bed, numb. I don’t know how the mission went so wrong, but I’m the reason the mission happened in the first place. I supplied Zebra with the information. I compromised my own principles and used my Mindwalking skills as a tool of war, and this is the result. I want to scream. There has to be something I can do.
From a corner of my room, I hear the faint crackle of a hidden speaker. I sit up, alarmed.
“Lain.” The familiar voice emanates from nowhere and everywhere. “I need to talk to you.”
I blink. “Zebra?” He sounds uncharacteristically subdued.
“Yes, it’s me.”
So, the room is bugged. Somehow I’m not surprised. I still can’t tell exactly where the voice is coming from. “Do you have microphones in every room, or am I special?”
“Never mind that. We have bigger problems right now. You want to save your friends, don’t you?”
My heartbeat quickens. “Yes,” I whisper. “How?”
“Come to my study. It’s better if we talk about this face to face.”
I slide out of bed, slip on my shoes, and lay a hand against the wall panel, opening the doors. I look back and forth, but Steven is nowhere in sight. The hallways are silent and empty as I make my way toward the Gate room. By now, I’ve memorized the route.
I stand in front of the metal door. A few breaths pass, then the door slides open, revealing the room with the Gate at its center, just as I remember it. There must be a security camera near the door, though I don’t see one. Are there hidden cameras all throughout the Citadel?
I step in, and the door whisks shut behind me. The wall opens with a grinding rumble, revealing the now familiar sight of Zebra sitting in his study. He closes the holographic screen in front of him. He must have been watching the outside hallway. Maybe this is his life—sitting in the shadows, secretly observing everything around him.
I sit in the chair across from his and dry my sweat-damp palms on my pants. “You said there’s a way to save my friends?”
He rubs one gloved hand over his arm, an uncharacteristically uncertain gesture. “How much would you be willing to sacrifice?”
I hesitate, but only briefly. “I would give my life, if it was the only way.”
He meets my gaze. “And what if you had to give up something more precious than your life?”
Suddenly, the room feels too cold, despite the fire crackling in the hearth. “What do you mean?”
He rubs his right thumb absently over the knuckles of his left hand. “We’re in a bad position. Very bad. We may not have very much time.” His voice is low, urgent. “As you know, someone leaked our plans to the police, which means there’s a mole in the Citadel. By now, the enemy probably knows our location. Of course, because of international treaties, they can’t simply march across the border. But they will find a way around that, no doubt. The Canadians don’t want us here. If IFEN can promise to get rid of us, they’ll cooperate, even if it means letting American troops into their country. Which means that our time is limited.”
“What does any of this have to do with me? Or with saving the hostages?”
He leans forward. “I’m telling you the situation, so you understand what’s at stake. Our only chance to stop IFEN is to learn their deepest secrets and expose them before they can destroy us. Truth is their Achilles heel. Right now, the American people’s hearts are divided. Many of them don’t like the status quo, but they also fear what will happen if IFEN disappears. They fear another war. They need to understand that those who rule them are not protectors, but oppressors. Then, and only then, can IFEN be truly defeated.”
“Get to the point.”
“As we both know, IFEN has a weapon. Something called Project Mindstormer. We’re aware of its existence and its capacity for widespread damage, but we don’t know what it is. The information about it is too scarce, too well guarded.” His expression is grim. “I need someone who can get close to Dr. Swan, who can convince him to share top secret information. You are the only person who can do that. The only one who has a chance.”
Realization settles in, and my chest turns hollow. “You want me to offer myself in exchange for the prisoners,” I whisper, “to turn myself over, so I can get into IFEN headquarters as a spy and find out about Project Mindstormer.”
“That’s right.”
I shake my head. “But that’s—” My mouth works silently as I fumble for words. “Dr. Swan will just look into my head with the Gate. He’ll know why I’m doing it.”
“Not if you forget about this conversation afterward.”
My heartbeat quickens. An unwitting spy. I wouldn’t even know the real reason I was there. “If I don’t remember, how will I know what information to look for? And how will I get this information to you? Once I’m inside headquarters, I’ll be stuck.”
Am I really thinking about doing this?
“I can implant subliminal suggestions using the Gate,” Zebra says. “As for getting the information to me… well, there is a way, but it will involve submitting to a rather invasive neurological procedure. One which is still highly experimental. Essentially, I would give you an implant that would function as a long-distance Gate.”
The muscles in my back stiffen. So he wants to do brain surgery on me, too. “And using this, you’ll be able to see what I’m seeing. And record my memories as proof.”
“Yes.”
“And once you have the information, what then? What happens to me?”
“I’ll try to arrange a rescue. But I can’t promise anything. The security in IFEN headquarters is very tight.”
And if he fails to rescue me, I’ll be left at Dr. Swan’s mercy, and he’ll do everything in his considerable power to break my will. What Father feared more than death—becoming a helpless puppet, stripped of his most precious memories and turned against everything he held dear—will become my fate. It’s an insane plan.
It’s also the only possible way I can save Ian and the others. Once the exchange is made, there’s a chance our duplicity will be discovered, but at the very least, I can get them out of Area 9. A peculiar numbness creeps over me as I weigh the options in my head. Stay here and d
o nothing—or offer myself as a sacrifice, freeing my friends and potentially striking a critical blow at IFEN. Of course, that’s assuming the scheme works. If not… well, if Zebra is right, the Blackcoats’ secrecy has already been compromised, so their situation can’t get any worse.
From a utilitarian perspective, it’s a simple ethical equation with an obvious solution. I have the potential to do so much good, at the cost of merely myself. It would be easy, if not for one thing. Steven’s face flashes through my head, and pain rips down the center of my body, gutting me like a fish.
His expression is blank, his hands clasped tightly together. “So. What do you say?”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“Of course you do. I won’t do this without your consent.”
“It’s my fault they were captured,” I blurt out. My voice shakes. “I have to do whatever I can to save them. It’s my obligation—”
“There is always a choice.” He regards me through cool, metal-gray eyes. “Every day, the world tries to pull us one way or another. And most people simply go with the current. But to forsake one’s power of choice is, in itself, a choice. We can’t escape the burden of free will, no matter how hard we try. Even when there’s a gun to your head—especially then, perhaps—one decision can change everything.”
My nails dig into my palms. I close my eyes, breathe in, and open them again. “Then I choose to save them.” The alternative is unthinkable.
He steeples his fingers, staring at me over the tips. “And what about Steven?” His voice is dangerously quiet. “What about the boy you love?”
Pain rips through my center again, but this time, I’m ready for it. I only flinch. “He’s made his choice, too.” This is his home now. Sort of a dysfunctional home, but still, it’s better than nothing. “He’s decided to stay here and fight. With or without me.”
“I see. So you’re willing to break his heart in order to save Ian.”
“Not just Ian. All of them.”
His eyes are sharp and clear, cutting into me. “Steven’s mind is still delicate, you know. I can see that, even without going inside. I’ve reviewed all the data about his past. So much trauma. He’s been shattered more than once, and the glue holding the pieces of him together is still weak. Your loss might be the thing that dissolves him.”