I let my gaze travel over her face. And so can you. My gut tells me she was up to something. And that might mean Viktor's up to something too. After all, he was the one who picked which scientists stayed at the Superconductor and which ones returned with him to the Craniopolis. It makes sense he would leave someone behind who he trusts.
"Get Viktor on the line now," I say, exchanging a wary look with Trout and Jakob.
The woman walks over to the CommCenter and twists a couple of knobs. A loud crackling erupts.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Bear with me," she says. "Viktor is working out some bugs on his end." She makes a few adjustments and a moment later an image materializes on the screen. Viktor's face blurs in and out of view several times and then comes into focus.
"Can you hear me?" he asks.
"Loud and clear," I say. "Congratulations. You made short work of connecting us."
Viktor bows his head, an odd, turtlelike movement that allows him to scan the entire room. I swear his eyes flick some coded message to the scientist behind me. My scalp prickles. On the Richter scale of suspicious, this is scoring a high nine.
"How are the deviations settling back in?" I ask.
"They're relieved to be back in familiar surroundings," Viktor replies. "Jerome is overseeing their reintegration."
"Can we get Jerome on this line too? I want to talk to both of you."
Viktor swishes a finger over the mole on his left cheek. "Jerome is tied up with some resettlement issues. The deviations are traumatized by everything that's happened." He gives an apologetic wave of his hand. "Jerome's the only one who can handle them."
The niggling feeling in my stomach harmonizes with my prickling scalp. It doesn't make sense that Jerome can't spare a few minutes to talk to me. "All right," I say, with some reluctance. "Have him contact me as soon as he's able."
Viktor does that irritating pigeon dip with his head again.
"Any more transmissions?" I ask.
Viktor's beady gray eyes fixate on me. "As a matter of fact, I intercepted a transmission earlier this morning."
My heart begins to thump wildly. "Did you secure the coordinates?"
"It wasn't possible."
"Why not? You said you could nail down the outpost's position if they made contact."
"It wasn't the outpost."
I frown at him. "What are you saying?"
Viktor's voice drops an octave. "It came ... from the Megamedes."
10
My lips part, but I can't dig up a response. I glance around at the others. Trout and Jakob look equally flabbergasted. There's a strange glint in the scientist's eye that I can't decipher. For a moment, she almost looked furious, but her expression quickly toggled back to neutral. Why would she not want Viktor telling us about the transmission?
My mind races in several different directions. If we can pinpoint the coordinates of the Megamedes we may be able to land a Hovermedes on it. Lou talked about an evacuation order the day of the meltdown. If the buses were transporting people to safety, there could be civilian survivors on the Megamedes. The question is whether the world government was really saving people, or selecting subjects to take with them so they could continue their research. My stomach churns at the thought of all those people piling into transport buses like sheep to the slaughter.
"Are you sure it was the Megamedes?" I ask, staring at Viktor's face on the screen.
"No doubt about it," he replies, fingering that wretched mole again. "I tracked its circuitous magnetic path. The ship's over a thousand feet long, impossible to mistake."
"What was the transmission about?" Jakob asks.
Viktor blinks. "The Megamedes wants to send a delegation to the Craniopolis."
An icy tremor runs through me. "What for?"
Viktor twiddles with his collar. "We haven't issued any reports in the past few days. They've ordered an audit to ensure we're at optimal capacity."
"You mean ... clone production?" Trout interjects.
Viktor nods. "And research quotas ... participants."
"When are they arriving?" I ask.
"They estimate a week."
"The Craniopolis will never pass an audit," I say, rubbing my forehead. "Not with Lyong dead, and Sektor Sieben non-existent, not to mention the tunnels we blew up. That's three red flags right there that something is wrong."
"Lyong's death can be explained away easily enough," Viktor says. "As I mentioned already we have documentation of his experimentation on his own DNA. An egocentric scientist overreaches himself. Perfectly plausible."
"It still doesn't explain the caved-in tunnels or why Sektor Sieben has closed up shop," Trout says.
"And Lyong's not the only important figure missing from this equation," I say. "Won's dead too. Anyone who sets foot inside the Craniopolis will know the facility was attacked." I rub my aching temples as I contemplate our options. Maybe there's a way to use the situation to our advantage. I turn my attention back to the screen. "Doctor Won ran Sektor Sieben, right?"
Viktor's brows slant inward. "Yes, he was Chief of Cybernetics. What are you getting at?"
"Won and Lyong disliked each other intensely. The world government would have known as much if Lyong was in contact with them. What if we claim that Won staged a coup? Blame everything on a dead egomaniac who isn't here to defend himself."
Viktor's eyes widen.
"It might work." Trout throws me an appreciative look.
Jakob adjusts his trucker cap, a troubled expression furrowing his face. "Too risky."
"I think it's worth the risk," I say. "The surviving scientists can greet the delegation. We'll pose as scientists too. If we can fool them, it would be a chance to find out more about the Megamedes."
I cast a furtive glance in the scientist's direction. I'm almost certain she knows more about the Megamedes than she's letting on. She ignores me and stares at Viktor.
"What if the delegation sees right through us?" Jakob says. "All they'd have to do is ask one of us a question. We don't know the first thing about science."
Trout grins. "Tell them you skipped school for a few years. They'll give you a free pass."
Jakob throws him a disgruntled look.
"You don't have to say anything when the delegation's conducting the audit," I add. "You can be a mute deviation if you like."
Trout bursts out laughing, and I look away to keep from doing the same. At least I can still make someone crack a smile.
"It's settled then." I turn back to Viktor on the screen. "We'll claim that Won tried to take over the Craniopolis after Lyong threatened to shut down Sektor Sieben. A bunch of clones died in the coup, the deviations were traumatized–some lost their ability to speak." I wink at Jakob, and to, my relief, he shakes his head and gives a crooked grin. He really is like a brother to me, and I hate it when we're at odds.
"How do you want me to respond to the transmission?" Viktor asks.
"Acknowledge it and comply with the audit. Don't alert them to the coup yet. The last thing we want is hordes of Schutz Clones arriving to restore order. We'll inform the delegation after they arrive. In the meantime, put whatever clones are available to work on cleanup and rebuilding the damaged tunnels. We need to look like we're fully invested in becoming a functional base again. I'll be there tomorrow to help."
Viktor bobs his head, and a moment later the image on the screen flatlines.
"The best this does is buy us some time," Trout says. "If we don't resume clone production after the delegation returns to the Megamedes, the Sweepers will come back. We won't be able to hide the truth from them forever."
"If we live through the audit, we'll work on phase two after that," I say.
Jakob raises his brows. "What's phase two?"
I grin. "Getting on board the Megamedes."
He gasps. "Are you out of your mind?"
"If the Megamedes is the heart of the Sweepers' operation, then that's where we'll strike."
"Impossible." Jakob shak
es his head. "There's no way to get near it."
"We don't have to," I flash him an oversized grin. "They're bringing it to us. We just need to make sure that when the delegation returns to the ship, we accompany them."
"How are you planning on pulling that off?"
"I have an idea." I flick my eyes in the direction of the scientist. She averts her gaze and pretends to be engrossed in shutting down the CommCenter. "We'll talk about it later."
Back at the rider's barn, we bring Sven up to speed on everything over a hearty dinner of chicken dumplings and rice. Trout leaves me to do most of the talking while he shovels down his food.
"So you think the Megamedes exists?" Sven asks.
I shrug. "It's the second transmission Viktor has intercepted."
"Can we trust him?" Trout asks through a mouthful of food.
I trace the back of my nail across my lip. "He's up to something, but I don't think he's lying about the existence of the Megamedes. He can't exactly conjure up a delegation."
"What do you make of the scientist at the Superconductor?" Jakob asks.
"She's in on whatever Viktor's up to," I say. "Maybe they're planning on going back with the delegation."
"Why would they want to rejoin the Sweepers if they were sickened by what they were doing?"
"I'm not sure," I stare into my empty bowl. I can never seem to eat enough to satisfy my hunger these days. "But I intend to find out. In the meantime, we need to make plans to return to the Craniopolis tomorrow and begin staging the place for the delegation's arrival."
"What do you have in mind?" Trout asks.
"Some of the military clones can pose as Schutz Clones," I say. "And we'll need some warm bodies in the Intake Sektor to show that we're still conducting sweeps."
"Warm bodies?" Jakob's brows shoot up. "You mean Undergrounders?"
"It would only be for a few hours during the delegation's visit."
"Good luck with that," Trout says. "No Undergrounder's going to volunteer for that."
"Then we'll just have to be persuasive," I say.
"What are we talking about here, conscription?" Trout asks.
I shrug. "More like an ultimatum."
"Let's hope it's enough to convince them," Trout says.
I get to my feet. "We're about to find out. I'm calling an emergency meeting."
I'm met with disbelieving stares from the riders and Undergrounders when I break the news about the delegation. I don't blame them. They've just cleared the city of clones and deviations, and for the first time in years they were living without the fear of extraction hanging over their heads. Now I'm asking them to volunteer to return to the Craniopolis as live subjects in a Sweeper audit.
"If we can convince the Sweepers that Won was behind the coup we can buy ourselves some time," I explain. "Lyong's own records prove that he was in a weakened state. We can claim that Won took advantage of the situation. If we don't try it, the Sweepers will unleash a fleet of Hovermedes to hunt down those responsible for what happened at the Craniopolis."
Fear and confusion cloud the faces in front of me. "So who's with me?" I ask. "I need at least twenty volunteers to pose as extractees in the Intake Sektor." The Undergrounders' stares morph into expressions of horror. I slowly scan the room, waiting for someone to jump on board.
Minutes tick by and I'm met with stony silence. Owen gets to his feet. "No one's returning to the Craniopolis," he says, scowling. "We've suffered enough. You're pushing it too far, Derry."
I swallow down my bitter disappointment that Owen has chosen to go against me when he knows I need his support to make this work.
"If the Sweepers come looking for us, they'll bring every resource at their disposal," I say. "They'll destroy us."
Uneasy murmurs ripple around the room.
"And if your crazy scheme doesn't work, then what?" Owen glances around at the worried faces observing our standoff. "I'll tell you what happens. We'll all end up in Sektor Sieben as participants."
"Owen's right," one of the Undergrounders pipes up. "We can't fool the Sweepers. We'll end up as science projects if we go anywhere near the Craniopolis."
"You're wrong," I raise my voice to make myself heard above the discontent. "If we pull together we can make this happen. The clones, scientists, even the deviations, will all play their parts. But if we do nothing, the sweeps will resume and we'll be forced to turn the Superconductor back on. We'll accomplish nothing but death by radiation."
The room erupts. Undergrounders and riders face off, arguing heatedly with each other. One woman with a child in her lap puts her hands to her face, and rocks back and forth, weeping while the child works to pry her hands free.
I look over at Trout for inspiration, but he gives an apologetic shrug. I bang on the table with my rifle for silence. The room gradually quietens, all eyes settling on me.
"If we want to win this war, we need to know who is on board the Megamedes before we attack. Until then, our best bet is to dupe the Sweepers into thinking the Craniopolis is an operational base and buy ourselves more time."
At the far end of the room, Owen folds his arms across his chest, face set like flint. Nikki leans against his shoulder. The Undergrounders look with uncertainty from me to him. I clench my fists at my side. I lead the Council. I won't let him split the city.
"We leave tomorrow," I say. "I need twenty volunteers at the main gate by dawn."
Owen is the first to exit the room, Nikki hurries out after him. It's not good for morale that we put up a divided front at a moment of crisis, but Owen should have backed down. He didn't want to be a part of the Council so this wasn't his decision to make.
Jakob walks over. "I need to go to the clinic and check up on Curly. I'm sorry about Owen. He should have supported you."
"Thanks." I force a smile. "I don't expect you to come with us to the Craniopolis. You're needed here."
Jakob nods. "I'd do a miserable job of faking a role anyway."
"We'll need as many of the military clones as possible," I say, turning to Sven. "The riders can help handle things here while we're gone."
Sven nods. "We'll be at the gate by dawn. I'll leave Rocco behind to oversee things here."
I exit the courthouse and make a quick detour to check on Big Ed and Tucker, before heading back to my bunk and calling it a night. After a few minutes, Tucker appears and curls up on my legs. I sink my fingers into his fur and slowly begin to relax for the first time in days.
I wake the next morning with a start, almost bumping heads with Trout who's shaking me awake. A solitary finger of light streams through the cracks in the boarded-up window a few feet from my bed. I stare at it for a moment before it hits me. I've overslept.
"What time is it?" I ask, scrambling to throw aside the covers.
Trout brushes a hand across his unshaven jaw. "Never mind that. There's something you need to see."
11
Something about his tone stops me in my tracks. I stare at him searching his face for answers. My heart thumps so hard it hurts. "Is it Sven?" I whisper.
He frowns. "No!"
I tug on his sleeve. "Big Ed?"
"No! Nobody's dead," he says, but he doesn't look me in the eye.
"What is it then?" I ask, pulling on my boots.
"You'd better come see for yourself."
I grab my pack and gun and follow Trout outside. I don't know why he's being so evasive, but at least it's not what I dread hearing most--that Sven has reached his expiration date.
The sky is overcast, crows scolding up above. Not a good omen for our return trip to the Craniopolis, but I brush it off and tromp down the street after Trout. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I skipped dinner last night. "Where are we going?" I call to Trout.
He ignores me and turns onto the main street.
"This is stupid, Trout. Just tell me--"
My heart jolts. The caravan of wagons and carts that lined the road yesterday is gone.
I throw a harried
glance at Trout.
"They left in the middle of the night," he explains.
The breath leaves my lungs. Owen must have talked the homesteaders into pulling out after our showdown in the courthouse. After everything we've been through together, my own brother betrays me like this. I sink down on a slab of cracked concrete and drop my head into my hands. He didn't even say good-bye.
"Did all the homesteaders go with him?" I ask.
"I guess so."
"Owen hasn't been himself since the Sweepers extracted him," I say. "I should have tried to talk to him about what happened to him, but he's been avoiding me."
"He barely talks to me anymore either," Trout says. "I never know what's going on in his head."
"Nikki is in his head," I fume. "She's the reason he's shutting the rest of us out."
Trout scratches the back of his neck. "Or maybe she's the reason he's holding it together."
I blow out a frustrated breath and get to my feet. "Neither of them are in a good place. They're not fit to lead the homesteaders to the Deadwood basin."
Trout rubs his one-knuckled finger and stares off into the distance. "We need to go. Sven's waiting on us."
"How many Undergrounders showed up at the gate?" I ask, falling in step with him.
He clears his throat. "You don't want to know."
I roll my eyes. "Just spit it out. This morning can't get any worse."
He frowns. "Five."
"Five!" I groan. I was hoping for at least fifteen or twenty.
"There were eight earlier," Trout says. "But three of them bailed when they heard the homesteaders left. They might be planning on going after them."
"The Ghost and his men will clean their clocks if they come across them. And they'll be easy pickings for a Hovermedes if they set up camp in the Deadwood Basin."
"With any luck, the Rogues are a long way from here by now," Trout muses.
I kick at a clod of dirt in my path. "Either way, we can't worry about Owen anymore. He made his choice. We need to stay focused."
We fall silent as we approach the main gate to the city. Sven and the military clones stand in formation, guns holstered, their expressions schooled to neutral. An elite force, bred for war as The Ghost once reminded me. To their left, a small group of Undergrounders monitors my arrival with skepticism.
Judgement: The Undergrounders Series Book Three (A Young Adult Post-apocalyptic Science Fiction Thriller) Page 7