She switched off the feed from outside the barracks. That was cowardly, she knew, but she was more afraid of being paralyzed than of what she would see. She would face that reality later, if there was a later.
“Two minutes,” said Devin as they reached the end of that particular stairwell. “Left here.”
“But the roof is this way,” said Forest, pointing to the right.
“We’re not going to the roof. Along here, right to the end.”
Clair checked the map. There was nothing on the top floor in that wing but executive offices, and above them only an air-conditioning unit. They would have magnificent views of the flood as it rose up to engulf them, but what good would that do anyone?
From the next level came a clattering of footsteps. Forest and Sargent produced pistols from inside their armored uniforms and pointed them up the stairwell.
“Identify yourself!” called Forest. Clair tugged Jesse behind her and took cover farther along the corridor.
The PKs suddenly relaxed their stances. PK Drader stepped into view, closely followed by a young woman in an orange prison jumpsuit: Tilly Kozlova.
No, Xia, Clair told herself firmly. There was no Tilly Kozlova left.
“Hail, fellows, well met,” said PK Drader, looking surprised to see them. There was fresh blood on his armor. “Going up?”
“No!” said Devin, fairly bouncing from foot to foot in his desire to keep moving.
“Good. Too dangerous. Lost two prisoners to snipers before we could get back down the stairs.”
“They’re shooting their own?” asked Sargent.
“Getting rid of the evidence, I guess. I would in their shoes.”
Xia burst into tears and backed away from Drader. He gripped her tightly by the arm and pulled her back in, which only made her wail all the louder.
Clair bit back a reprimand. Being scared was natural, but panicking wasn’t going to save anyone.
“Come on,” said Devin. “We’re running out of time.”
“We are right behind you,” said Forest. To PK Drader he added, “Come with us.”
“Here’s hoping we’ll all fit,” Clair heard Devin mutter as they ran up the hallway.
Then she knew. She didn’t know how it was possible, but she understood what he was hoping to do.
“I need to open this door,” Devin said to Forest when they reached the last executive office on the right. “Now, please.”
It slid smoothly open, revealing a corner suite. The view was one of autumn treescapes and devastation. The flood had reached Crystal City, carrying with it a foam of mangled debris. Clair could feel its passage as a vibration through her feet. She imagined water smashing through windows and pouring into the lower floors of the buildings around her, including the one she was in. To the south loomed a much higher surge, one that looked like it would sweep the entire barracks away.
In a matter of minutes, Crystal City would be an island in the middle of a much wider river, if it survived.
Within the office was a desk and two couches, a fabber, and a second door.
The door led to a d-mat booth.
“Okay,” Devin said, leaning on the corner of the desk to catch his breath. “Here’s what’s going to happen . . .”
“Your friends in RADICAL are going to take over that booth somehow and get us out of here that way,” said Clair.
“Exactly. And thanks for stealing my thunder, by the way.” He looked genuinely peeved, which gave her some small satisfaction under the circumstances. He deserved it for needling her. “But yes, that’s essentially what I had in mind. The VIA network is still in place, after all. The booths are still receiving power from orbit, and the capacity is there to carry data. It’s just not operating. So why not make it operate?”
“You make it sound easy,” said the tech. “There are multiple firewalls, and no operating oversight—”
“I know, but you wouldn’t believe the resources RADICAL has at its disposal. If the best hackers on the planet can’t hijack one little booth, they should hang up their hats and go home.”
“Will it be safe without the AIs?” said PK Drader. “Only . . . isn’t that why we had them?”
“Sure, but there’s only a few of us, and the system is empty right now. Most important, it’ll be safe from the dupes, too, since they won’t be expecting anything like this.”
“I don’t like it,” said Jesse.
The building shook beneath them as the next wave of water struck.
“I told you you wouldn’t,” said Devin. “Got an alternative?”
“Swim?” Jesse said.
“No,” said Clair, taking Jesse’s hand and squeezing it. “There are no alternatives.”
He swallowed but didn’t say anything. She hoped that meant the matter was resolved.
“Right, then,” said Devin. “Give me a second.”
Devin’s gaze turned inward, and he drifted into a corner to do whatever he was doing over the Air. His eyes moved, following information sparkling across his lenses.
The booth door slid open. Clair peered inside. The mirrored interior was small, as befit a private executive suite, large enough for two or three people. It didn’t seem possible that they would all squeeze in there.
“Can you activate another one?” Sargent asked. Her businesslike facade cracked for a moment, revealing something that might have been anxiety, and with good reason. She was as big as Clair and Forest combined. She would be taking up more than her fair share of space.
“Maybe,” Devin said, glancing at her. “But my pals in RADICAL have been working on this particular line since we left the cage downstairs. It’ll take them a while to hack into another.”
“We don’t have a while,” Clair said.
The building shook again. The roar of water was echoing up the stairwells now, not just from the outside. The air was getting colder.
Xia looked anxiously at PK Drader, then the others.
“I could stay behind,” she said.
“That would give us more space,” said Drader, earning a sharp glance from Forest.
“She would drown.”
“I don’t mind,” Xia said. “I’ve had more time than I deserved, I know—”
“No. You are too valuable to this investigation.”
“And she’s a person, too,” said Clair. She couldn’t believe she was sticking up for a murderer. “She’s coming with us even if we have to squeeze in there like sardines.”
“What if she blows up?” asked Jesse. “The last dupe did.”
“We know she won’t because she didn’t before,” said Devin. “Right?”
Clair nodded. She hoped that was correct. Xia was designed to be a permanent dupe, not a temporary swap to be erased if discovered.
Sargent, watching her, nodded too.
“So . . . is anyone claustrophobic?” asked PK Drader, performing a nervous warm-up.
“Not for long,” said Devin. “Who’s getting in first?”
Sargent stepped through the sliding door and into the corner.
“You next,” Clair said to Xia so the woman wouldn’t try to escape.
PK Drader went in after her, then Devin, then the tech. It was already a squeeze before Forest wormed himself into the middle. Jesse, the second tallest after Sargent, and the skinniest overall, went to slide into one of the front corners, but the fit was too tight.
“Don’t be afraid to push,” said Devin. “We really have to go now.”
Clair could hear water gurgling in the hallway outside. She shut the office door in the vain hope that it would slow the flood down.
Jesse balked.
“I can’t,” he said, taking one step back from the booth. “I don’t want to.”
“You have to,” Clair said. “Don’t argue.”
“But it isn’t fair!”
“So what? Get in or you’ll die!”
She pushed him angrily inside, using all her body weight against his. It was an uneven contest,
and he fought her for an instant, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. She wouldn’t let him. No way was she leaving him to drown or be shot by dupes, not when something as simple as going through a booth could save him.
Finally, he tucked his arms into his sides and closed his eyes in resignation. Clair pushed harder. Various groans ensued as the others did their best to make space for him. Sargent raised her arms above her, and Xia squeezed her head into one of PK Drader’s armpits. He put his arm around her and pulled her even closer, until she complained about being unable to breathe.
Digging her feet in as firmly as she could on the soggy carpet, Clair used all her weight to get Jesse in. And then he was in, and Devin laughed and said in a muffled voice, “Cozy, isn’t it?”
It was Clair’s turn.
She bit her lip. Water had entered the room and was rising rapidly up her ankles. She splashed back a step, ignoring the creep of cold water up her calves, and rubbed her hands together. The booth was full. There was no doubt about that. No one else was getting in there, and as the water reached her knees Clair knew she didn’t have time to wait for the booth to cycle through.
“Is this water a problem?” she said.
“Not unless the shield is breached,” the tech said. “We’ll be okay.”
You have to go without me, Clair wanted to say, but she knew Jesse wasn’t going to stand for that, and she couldn’t let both of them drown. There had to be another way. Looking at the mass of arms and legs and bodies squished together, though, she simply couldn’t see it.
“Clair?” said Sargent. “What are you going to do?”
Water was up to her thighs. She went up on tiptoe, feeling light on her feet.
And then she knew. There was space in the booth, if she just looked at it a different way.
“Jesse, hold out your hands. You’re going to have to take my weight. Everyone else . . . get ready.”
He did as she told him, bracing himself against the side of the booth and the people behind him.
She stepped one foot into his hands, pressed down, and lifted herself up out of the water. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she launched herself over everyone else’s heads, into the booth, and brought her dripping legs in after her. People shifted, taking her weight as best they could. She tried her hardest not to kick, hoping she wasn’t elbowing anyone in the face. There were more groans. She ignored them.
“Right,” said Devin. “Let’s do this.”
The door hissed shut, stopping and starting twice so people could pull errant limbs inside.
Clair’s face was pressed uncomfortably against the mirrored wall at the back of the cage. All she could see was her own reflection. But at least she was out of the water. A fleeting thought of how awful it would be to drown inside the booth came and went. She closed her eyes tightly and hoped the doors held.
“Are you sure it’s going to scan us correctly?” asked Jesse. “We’re not going to end up all mixed up together or anything?”
She could hear the same edge of panic in his voice that she was holding barely at bay.
“No chance,” said Devin. “Hold on. Just powering up the necessaries.”
What a Neanderthal, whispered a voice in Clair’s ear. Like that kind of thing ever happens anymore.
He’s got a right to be worried, T. His mother died in one of these things. I’m just amazed no one’s mentioned the possibility of electrocution yet. I don’t want to think about the current that’ll be running through this thing when it switches on.
You heard what the tech said. It’ll be fine.
You’re not the one in a glass coffin that may or may not be leaking.
Stop being so wet.
Very funny, T.
Clam it now. I’m concentrating.
Clair hadn’t noticed the absence of the whispering until it returned. It was faint but undeniably present, and clearer than it ever had been before, although it was hard to make out anything specific about the voices involved. It sounded like a conversation, but the speakers were so similar as to be identical.
Could it be two dupes? It sounded like one of them was inside the booth. Perhaps Xia was less wretched than she pretended to be.
Here we go, said the whisper, in five . . . four . . .
Something important occurred to Clair then.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
. . . three . . .
“Somewhere safe,” said Devin.
. . . two . . .
“I’ve heard that before.”
. . . one . . .
“Not from us.”
Blinding light flared from the corner close to her face, dazzling Clair even through her eyelids. She drew in a sharp breath and felt everyone else in the booth do the same.
[12]
* * *
THE RHYTHM WAS the same as ordinary d-mat, but the sound was different.
phhhhhh-click
Suddenly Clair was dropping. Not through empty air—she was still on top of everyone else in the booth, but they were moving. The walls around them had vanished, and they were falling apart like bowling pins. Clair came down in the midst of them, unable to find anything reliable to hang on to.
There was a loud splash.
Clair landed on Sargent’s knees, the tech’s outflung arm, and Xia’s head. Her elbow twanged under her, and she rolled over, seeking solid ground and finding it, finally, on her back, staring up at a featureless white ceiling. Around her, everyone else recovered their own way, gratefully spreading out across the damp surface beneath them, making guttural noises of discomfort and relief as they went. Whatever booth they had jumped into, it was considerably bigger than the one they had just left.
“You’re totally insane,” Clair heard Jesse say. “You brought us here?”
Clair lifted her head, took in the desk and chairs, the double doors, the arched entranceway, and the shutters on the windows. She breathed in and smelled it all coming back to her—the fear, the desperation, the despair.
Wallace’s office in VIA HQ.
“We can’t stay here.” She was shocked by the shrillness of her voice. She backed up against a wall, away from where Mallory had pressed her to the ground with a boot, where Zep had been shot again, where Wallace had threatened to destroy her life and the lives of everyone she loved. Where she had made the decision to kill herself to save the world. There was no visible blood on the damp carpet or walls. It had all been cleaned away when the contents of the room-shaped booth had reset. But she knew.
“Last place they’d expect,” Devin said, standing up and brushing himself down. The hood of his armor had activated during the fall and took a moment to retract. “Wallace’s private network was broken when the station went up. The PKs annexed it, leaving it open to hacking, but the Faraday shield sealing off this room from electromagnetic radiation is still intact. It seemed a suitable middle ground before we decide where to go next.”
Clair wondered what the whispers in her ears would have to say about that, but they had ceased. And she had bigger things to worry about, like trying to think straight when every reflex was telling her to run around in circles, throw up, or scream.
“Are you all right?” Jesse squatted next to her and put one hand on her shoulder.
She shook her head. “Are you?”
“I will be when we get out of here.”
“I don’t get it,” said the tech. “Where are we?”
Drader explained. Clair leaned into Jesse and he ran his fingers up her neck and into her hair. That felt good. She closed her eyes, wishing the images she saw behind her eyelids weren’t of death and destruction all the time.
“This is where it started.”
Clair opened her eyes. Xia was standing in front of her and Jesse, looking at them with wide eyes. “This is where he told me what he could do. And this is where I came back . . . after.”
Xia wrapped her arms around herself, clutching her waist with the slender fingers that had performed such beaut
iful music. Clair shuddered. She would never be able to listen to Poulenc’s double piano concerto again, or Satie’s “Je te veux,” one of the most joyful pieces of music ever written. It was all ruined.
“I was afraid of what it would be like—living a lie, losing everyone I ever loved, being . . . what I am now.” Xia looked down at her body, and Clair was surprised to see loathing in her eyes. “This is not my body. It’s stolen. It’s wrong . . . but the temptation was too great. It wasn’t anything to do with the music, although I tried to convince myself it was. I was simply afraid that dying would hurt. I was a coward.” She was weeping now, slow, silent tears that had none of the hysteria she had displayed earlier. Why she felt the need to confess, Clair didn’t know. Maybe because of Libby.
“I feel her inside me, you know,” Xia said.
“Who?” asked Clair, sudden hope blooming. “Tilly?”
Xia nodded. “No thoughts or feelings . . . just the shape of her, the negative space where she used to be. It’s like an echo I can only hear when I’m startled or distracted. Of all the things he did, that’s the worst. I’m constantly reminded of what he did to her. If I could bring her back, I would. That’s why I turned myself in. I hoped someone would know how to do that. But without him . . . if he’s dead . . .”
There was such wretchedness in her expression that Clair almost felt sorry for her. Not as sorry as she did for Tilly, though. Or Libby.
“Are you sure you killed him?” Xia asked her, a faint flicker of hope visible in her eyes.
She understood now that this was why Xia was talking to her. Not to unburden herself, or to explain, but to confront the very possibility that Clair had been trying her utmost to ignore.
Are you sure you killed him?
“I mean, he could be behind all this,” Xia went on. “The dupes, the barrage . . . He could have made a copy of himself and stored it somewhere, a backup.”
“He could’ve done it in his sleep,” said Jesse, staring at the spot where his father had appeared briefly.
A black pit seemed to open in Clair’s chest.
“Are you telling me it was all for nothing?” she said, her voice raw. “Everything I did?”
“Don’t say that,” said Sargent. Clair hadn’t realized she was listening. “You exposed Wallace for what he was. You stopped Improvement. You discovered Q. That’s all something.”
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