Infiltrators

by Alison Ingleby

  Aleesha sways then takes two steps over to the table. She grips the edge of the wooden surface, her knuckles white, but she can’t stop the trembling that runs up her arms. “I-I’m sorry, Abby. I wasn’t sure what else to do … Their father’s at work.”

  Her voice trails off and she looks at Abby beseechingly. A glance passes between them and Abby nods, obviously understanding some unspoken words that I can’t grasp. She walks over to the sink and washes the flour from her hands, then turns to the eldest of the children, a dark-haired girl.

  “Where do you live …?”

  “Helen,” the girl supplies in a small voice. “Helen Gollin. We live on Underwood Road. Me da works at the food factory in Area Three.”

  “Davie Gollin? Is that your da?”

  The small girl nods, surprised. Abby smiles warmly at her. “Well, if he’s on shift now, he won’t be finished until this evening. I’ll take you back home myself once he’s done.”

  The girl hesitates. “But me ma …” Her voice trails off and tears start to roll down her cheeks. One of the boys flops down onto the floor and starts wailing. The other quickly follows suit.

  “Ah, come here, the three of you.” Abby bends down and envelops the weeping children in her arms, making soft soothing noises.

  I place the guitar carefully back on the wall and walk over to Aleesha. I hesitate for a second, then reach out and gently rub her shoulder. She flinches at my touch and I whip my hand away.

  “Sorry,” she says. “I’m a bit sore.”

  “What happened?”

  She glances over at the children then jerks her head toward the door. “Not here.”

  We go into the front room and Aleesha lowers herself gingerly onto the sofa.

  “He did it, Trey. Theo’s dad. He released the information in the government papers, about tronk. It’s all over the news.”

  I close my eyes as relief washes over me. Thank goodness. I’d made out to Aleesha that I’d been confident about Theo’s dad releasing the information, but the truth was I hadn’t been at all sure. He’d sounded so dismissive of it, but also slightly nervous. I smile and open my eyes. “That’s great!”

  Aleesha stares at me and the smile drops from my face. “No, Trey. Not great.” She sighs and drops her head into her hands, digging her fingers into her dark, braided hair. “I’ve never seen anything like it. People gathered to see the news on the screens in Rose Square. They got angry. Really angry. There were so many people there, the whole square was full. Then the Metz came, appearing in every direction, and rather than run from them, people fought back.”

  My stomach gives a lurch as if I’ve just been dropped ten feet.

  She looks up at me, her eyes full of anguish. “They didn’t have a chance, Trey. What use are homemade weapons and fists against Metz armour and guns? People were cut down, massacred …” Her voice trails off and she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing dirt and blood across her forehead.

  “What have we done?” I whisper.

  “Started a war.”

  I stare at the faded paint on the walls. A war. We started a war. “The children … Their mother?”

  “Dead,” Aleesha says shortly. She blows out a breath. “At least, I think she’s dead. She was losing so much blood … I couldn’t stop to check. W-we were trapped by a Metz officer. Just one, on his own. He knew who I was, and he didn’t have any record of the twins …”

  “Three children. They had the girl and then two boys?”

  Aleesha nods. “I guess under the two-child rule, you’re supposed to give one of them up at birth, but how would you choose? She must not have registered either of them. But, the strange thing is … he let us go.”

  “What, the Metz officer?” I stare at her.

  “Yes. I pleaded with him to take me and let the kids go, and at first he was just like they normally are. Just doing the job, like a machine. But then something changed. I don’t know what, but it was almost as if he felt something. It was like he knew what he should be doing but couldn’t bring himself to do it.” She stares at me. “And he bled. Like a person.”

  My mind whirrs. What can this mean? That whatever it is that controls the Metz can be overridden? Or that they make their own decisions?

  “We should tell Katya,” I say slowly. “What you saw, well, it proves what she said – that they’re at least partly human. And that there’s some way of connecting with them, of making them see that what they’re doing is wrong.”

  Aleesha looks doubtful. “You sure? She sounded like she had her own plan very much under control.”

  “Look, I don’t know what you’ve got against her, but—”

  “Just because I wasn’t hanging on her every word and drooling over her, doesn’t mean I’ve got anything against her!”

  “Huh?” Where did that come from?

  Aleesha pushes herself awkwardly to her feet, wincing as she straightens her back. I put out a hand to help her, but she shoves me away with a scowl.

  “Let’s go tell Katya,” she says in a false, high-pitched voice.

  I stare at her, confused. “Wh—”

  “Don’t be stupid, Trey. Remember what Bryn said about not trusting beautiful women? That sexy look she’s got going on? It’s designed to make men want her. That’s how she works. They’ll agree to anything to get just a little bit closer to her. Tell her all their secrets, promise her the world. And you fell for it.”

  Her words sting. “I—”

  An image of Katya jumps into my head and I feel my cheeks begin to burn as heat flushes through me. “She can’t help being beautiful. And she seemed nice …” I realize how lame the words sound as soon as they’re out of my mouth.

  Aleesha snorts and begins to hobble toward the door. “Nice? She wouldn’t have been put in charge if she were nice. She’s a pro. Charming, manipulative, dec—”

  She stops short. A fleeting expression crosses her face as she turns away from me.

  “What do you mean?” Now I’m really confused.

  She pauses in the doorway. “It doesn’t matter. You’re probably right. We should tell her.”

  I follow her into the kitchen, still puzzled.

  Abby is trying to get the kids to help her make bread. The two younger boys seem happy enough punching dough, but the older girl just stares at it, occasionally pulling off a tiny piece and rolling it between her fingers.

  “We’re just heading to the house in Six,” I say as we squeeze past the table. “Won’t be long.”

  “Wait a sec.” Abby reaches into a battered old tin and pulls out a protein bar. She hands it to Aleesha. “I bet this is the first food you’ve had all day.”

  “Umm, thanks,” Aleesha says awkwardly, shoving the bar in her pocket.

  She turns toward the back door, but the dark-haired girl starts, as if only just noticing us, and runs to block her path. She looks up at Aleesha with wide, round eyes.

  “Th-thank you, Aleesha,” she says in a tiny, high-pitched voice. Her hands are twisted in front of her as if she’s not sure what to do with them. Then she seems to make up her mind and throws her arms around Aleesha’s waist, pressing her cheek to her chest. Aleesha freezes and stiffens, and the girl releases her grip and steps back awkwardly.

  “It’s fine,” Aleesha says, her eyes shifting to the back door. “I … really, it’s fine.” She chokes slightly on the final word and turns it into a cough. The girl steps aside and Aleesha rushes out the door.

  “You okay?” I ask, catching her up at the bottom of Abby’s small back yard.

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  But as she pulls open the back gate I catch sight of a solitary tear trickling down her cheek.

  I don’t recognize the two men who lounge against the stone pillars at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Chain’s headquarters, but they seem to know who we are. One of them raises an eyebrow when I say that we want to see Katya, but he disappears inside and, a few minutes later, beckons to us from th
e doorway.

  “Now remember, no drooling,” Aleesha mutters as we walk up the stairs.

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  We’re shown to the small room on the ground floor and told to wait. After a few minutes, the door opens and Katya walks in. She’s dressed in a tight sleeveless suit, similar to the one she was wearing yesterday but with a few additions: more pockets and a gun holster on the belt. The added bulk doesn’t take anything away from her figure.

  I gulp in a breath and tear my eyes away from her to stare out the window, trying not to think about what she’d look like if she wasn’t wearing that suit. Of course, that means it’s hard to think of anything else.

  “What’s up? Trey, are you okay?”

  “Y-yes, fine.” I force myself to look at her. Concentrate. “Aleesha has something to tell you, about the Metz. It might help.”

  Katya runs her fingers through her long, loose hair and I notice that her right forearm is bandaged. “Okay, well what is it?”

  Reluctantly at first, Aleesha describes her run-in with the Metz officer. When she gets to the point where she stabbed him in the elbow, Katya is suddenly alert.

  “There was definitely blood? Your knife went through the suit?”

  Aleesha nods. “It’s only a tiny gap and you can only get at it if their arm is held out, like this.” She demonstrates, holding her arm out straight at ninety degrees to her body.

  “Interesting,” Katya says, narrowing her eyes. “Go on.”

  Aleesha continues the story. Katya’s eyes widen in surprise when she describes how the officer let them go. It’s the first time I’ve seen a real emotion play over her face.

  When she finishes, Katya looks at her appraisingly. “So you think it realized that what it was doing was wrong?”

  Aleesha shrugs. “Why else would he have let us go?”

  Katya doesn’t answer. She walks over to the window and stares out, drumming her fingers lightly on the windowsill. “If this officer was feeling guilty, perhaps there was some malfunction in its system. Something that disrupted the connection between its chip and the main control system. I can’t believe they give them autonomy over decisions like that.”

  She turns back to us. “Have either of you seen anything like this before? Where an officer seems to change its mind?”

  I shake my head.

  “No,” Aleesha confirms. “Even when they’re taking people, during raids or Cleanings, when people beg them to let them go, I’ve never seen them back down.” I sense her stiffen and, glancing down, see that her hands are balled into fists.

  “And you say you got the officer’s number?”

  Aleesha nods. “ML486.”

  Katya seems to reach a decision. She walks over and stands in front of us. A whiff of her exotic scent reaches my nostrils, making it very difficult to focus on her next words. “You need to find this officer again. We’ve got no way of knowing whether it was something to do with you specifically that triggered this. We need to know if it was a one-off, or if it can really think for itself. If it feels guilt then maybe we’ll have a way in.”

  “Into what?” I blurt out.

  “Into the Metz compound, of course.” She catches the look of disbelief on my face and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to send you two in on some suicide mission. But if there’s any way of getting this officer on our side, then we’ll have a person on the inside should we need it.”

  “And how do you expect me to find him?” Aleesha asks. “They all look identical.”

  “You’ve got his number.”

  Aleesha nods. “But you have to be really up close to see it, and I’m not going around poking my nose at every Metz officer’s chest in the hope it might be him. I’d be arrested before I got fifty paces.” She glares at Katya.

  “I’ll spread the word around for people to keep a look out for it. Did you say you thought it was male?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Their voices all sound the same. He was big though, one of the biggest I’ve seen, and I just felt … I dunno, I just had a feeling he was a guy.”

  Katya nods. “Fine. Also, if he remembers what happens, he may go back to the same place. Worth a try anyway.” She reaches into a small pouch on her belt and pulls out a bag that clinks. Opening it, she reaches inside and pulls out a handful of small rectangular scraps of metal. She drops some into each of our hands.

  “Thanks for coming to me with this. Aleesha, I want you to keep an eye out for this officer. If you spot him again, try to engage him in conversation.” She turns to me. “Trey, see if you can get any information out of your father on who in the government is really in charge of the Metz, and anything he knows about the compound. We need more intel.”

  I stare down at the four warped scraps of metal in my hand. They’re stamped with a double circle. Chits. The currency Outsiders use. Those who don’t have a regular bank account. It’s not legal tender, but the government must turn a blind eye as there’s little they can do to control it. It’s the first money I’ve had since I dug my chip out and lost the connection to my bank account.

  Aleesha’s already pocketed her chits. We walk toward the door, but it opens in front of us.

  “What do you want doing w—” The man stops short when he sees us and begins to back away, closing the door. But not before I catch a glimpse of what’s behind him. A woman’s body, strapped to a hover float, her long blonde hair tickling the floor. She’s dressed in the familiar blue uniform of a junior government official. Her left arm hangs limply off the float; a glint on one finger indicating a thin wedding band.

  I stare at the cracked plastic door, the image of the woman burned on my retina. A ringing laugh makes me start. “It’s okay, Trey. She’s not dead. I just needed to take her chip for a while.” Katya smiles at me. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “You took her chip?” Aleesha says slowly. She sounds more thoughtful than shocked.

  Katya ushers us out the room. The hallway is empty. I flinch as she moves toward me, but she just steps past me to open the door.

  “Remember, anything you find out, come to me first.” We’re gently, but firmly, pushed out onto the steps. The front door slams shut behind us.

  I stumble down the steps, still trying to process what I’ve just seen. Aleesha catches my arm as I trip. “Hey, steady there.”

  At the bottom of the steps, I pause and look back up at the door.

  She was young. And married. Will her husband report her missing? Is he even alive?

  “Trey!”

  There’s a tug on my arm, and when I look down I realize I’ve taken three steps back up toward the door. I finger the chits in my pocket. The thought of the woman’s face tugs me forward, but Aleesha shakes her head. I let her guide me back down onto the street. She’s probably right. What could I do? But when the guards nod a friendly farewell to us, I look away, unable to meet their eyes.

  We walk in silence for a minute until, finally, I can take it no more. “She took that woman’s chip!”

  “Looks like it. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I guess I just assumed that it wasn’t that easy. If it’s just a case of cutting the chip out of one person’s arm and putting it in someone else’s …”

  I stop and stare at her. “Aleesha, this isn’t okay! She’s taken that woman’s identity. Stolen her money, her apartment, her job … Everything!”

  “A new life …” Aleesha seems lost in thought.

  How can she be so cold? So practical about it? And Katya …

  It’s sickening.

  Aleesha places her hand on my arm. “I told you she wasn’t nice, Trey.” Her voice is soft, not the sarcasm I was expecting. “You should know by now what kind of people these are. If Millicent was willing to let hundreds of Outsiders die as part of her plan, what’s one woman?”

  I pull my arm away. “But that woman was innocent!”

  “And Outsiders are all criminals who deserve to die?�
� Anger flares in her eyes.

  “That’s not what I meant.” I glare at her. “Stop twisting my words. It just … well, it’s just wrong.”

  “Because she’s an Insider? Is that it? Her identity and rights are more important than other people’s?” Her voice is tight and controlled. “Dozens of Outsiders died today, Trey. Hundreds, perhaps, and more will die in the coming week as they can’t get the medical help to treat their wounds. I’m not saying it’s right to take someone’s identity, but just remember that there are people who die in this city every day because they’ve never been given an identity in the first place.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.” But I’m talking to Aleesha’s retreating back. I think about running after her. But she’s the one in the wrong. I don’t see why I should apologize.

  I sigh and look around, wondering how long it’s going to take me to find my way home.

  7

  Aleesha

  I run through the streets of Area Five, not caring who might see me. It feels good to stretch my muscles and work my lungs. Channel my frustration into something productive. As I reach the boundary with Area Four, the atmosphere changes. Wounded people wander the streets in a daze. There are more Metz on the street, but though a hobie may spit in their wake, there’s no real challenge to their oppression.

  There are two figures at the window in Jay’s apartment, so I slouch against the wall of the alley out of sight. Half an hour later, Beth walks out the front door and down the street without a backward glance. I wait five minutes then stroll over to the door between the old kebab shop and a boarded-up tattoo parlour. The outer door code hasn’t changed, and I run up the stairs inside and stop in front of a familiar faded green door. My fingers beat a rat-a-tat-tat.

  The door opens six inches. “I thought I told you not to come here.” Jay scowls at me and I stick my foot out just in time to stop the door slamming shut.

  “I’ve come to get the rest of my stuff.”

  A look of puzzlement crosses his face and I use the momentary distraction to push the door open and step into the room. It looks just the same. Bare apart from a table and chairs and a thin counter in one corner with a hotplate.