“Now, there’s one more thing before we can get to sleep—namely, we have to decide who’s going to go talk to Mercury tomorrow. Quess and Maddox, one of you will have to, but I don’t think you should go alone.”
“I should be the one to go,” Quess said, before Maddox could say anything. “No offense, Doxy, but you’re not exactly the best with technology.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and then rolled them so hard I thought they would fall out of her head and continue along the floor. “Whatever,” she huffed. “There are other things that need to be done tomorrow, anyway.”
I let her statement hang for a second, and then cleared my throat. “Thank you, Quess,” I said. “So… who’s going with him?”
“I’ll go,” Grey said, at the same time as Quess and Eric both said something to the effect of, “Liana should go.”
“Me?” I said, looking at Quess and Eric before focusing on Grey. His brows were two angry slashes over his eyes, and I could tell he was upset by how quickly they had volunteered me. I wasn’t sure if it was because he thought they were putting me in danger—or because he was offended that they hadn’t considered him first. But it made me nervous. I didn’t want him thinking that I had somehow commandeered the group.
“Guys, it doesn’t have to be me. If Grey wants to go, then he can certainly go. Besides, I’m pretty confident it’s my net they’ll be fixated on. If I go out there, we’ll certainly be caught.”
“That’s not an issue,” Quess said. “As I like to say, there’s some tech for that.”
“That is literally the first time I’m hearing you say that,” Maddox muttered, and I smiled in spite of myself.
“Fine, whatever. I have a device, Liana. It can keep them from picking up your signal.”
I frowned. “Then why aren’t the four of us using it now?”
“Because it can’t be worn for prolonged periods without risking shorting out your net,” he replied flatly.
I shuddered. Shorting out someone’s net was rare, but did happen from time to time. Any electrical current applied directly to the implantation could cause it, and once it happened, it could severely damage the neocortex it ran across. It could even cause complete brain death. At the academy, we were taught never to use our batons on the back of anyone’s neck, because the batons would and could do just that.
“Okay,” I said, looking at Grey. “But Grey volunteered, so—”
“We know,” Zoe said quietly, her gaze on the floor. “But Quess and Eric think you should go. And I happen to agree.” She looked up at Grey, a small frown on her face. “I hope you understand. This isn’t nepotism. Or at least, I don’t think it is. But Liana is a trained interrogator, and she’s spoken with him before.”
“She does ask the best questions,” Tian added, her voice nervous. “Not that Grey doesn’t, but…”
“She basically became our leader when she started telling us what to do and we listened,” Maddox said bitterly.
My heart sank into the pit of my stomach, and I looked around. “Uh, guys—no. We’re not doing the leader thing. It’s stupid. I just saw what needed to be done and did it. I’m definitely not your leader. That is not a thing we’re doing.”
“It has to be,” Eric said, and I opened my mouth, ready to blast him with “It most certainly is not.” But he cut me off. “Liana, we all ran when you told us to, back at Sanctum. We all got up and started painting because you told us we needed to. You handled a potentially difficult situation, albeit unilaterally, and then came back to tell us what you had done. That doesn’t just make you a leader—it makes you a good one. And speaking for myself, I’m a much better follower than a leader.”
“Oh yeah,” Zoe deadpanned with a nod. “He really is. It’s embarrassing some of the things Liana and I put him up to.” Eric nudged her shoulder with his, giving her a chastising look, and her answering expression reminded me of a satisfied cat.
“It’s great that you are self-aware enough to know who you are,” Grey said, finally breaking his silence. “But I’m with Liana in that we don’t need a leader. We should all have a say in what we do. Collectively.”
“Exactly,” I said. I was flattered by their words, but they were only highlighting the positives. Missing the parts where I was impulsive, arrogant, mouthy, and wildly disorganized. I was pretty sure those disqualified me from the running, seeing as a leader should be just the opposite. Sure, I had a few ideas here and there, but that didn’t mean I was the best for the job. Working collaboratively was the best solution, if no one else wanted to step up.
“We don’t agree,” Quess said, and I gave him a look. He met my gaze, his dark blue eyes glittering, and then he shrugged. “Look, I sure as hell don’t want the responsibility, if I’m going to be perfectly honest. I don’t want to make the big decisions if I can avoid it. Provide equipment and mission support, absolutely, but I don’t think I could bear it if I voted to do something that got someone killed.”
“Besides, Liana’s the best suited for the job,” Maddox announced.
I met her stare, ready to tell her how wrong she was. I didn’t have the qualifications for this at all, and I had the list to prove it.
“How do you figure that?” Grey demanded angrily.
And his continued anger, while not overt or even loud, unsettled me. I could understand his question, but I couldn’t understand his anger. I couldn’t tell if it was directed at me or them, but it was hard not to take it personally. Everyone else had at least said nice things about me, and while I didn’t want to be one of those girls who needed compliments all the time, an acknowledgement from him would’ve been nice. So far, he had been the only one not to say anything positive about me as a leader.
“She’s proved she’s level headed and patient,” Maddox said, somehow managing to sound both annoyed that she had to spell it out for us, and bitter about my qualities as she listed them. “She’s resourceful, clever, and can get to the heart of a problem and figure a way out. She’s good at reading people and knows how to ask good questions. And, most importantly, she’s not egotistical. Every decision made would be for the benefit of everyone. It would never be self-serving.”
I guessed I was glad she said that with all that bitterness in her voice. Because I would’ve blushed under the surprisingly complementary assessment of my character, otherwise. As it was, I was still pleased that she seemed to be working past her anger at me. Or at least, she was trying to.
“An hour ago, you were accusing her of being selfish enough to go after her friend. Isn’t that self-serving?” Grey asked.
His words were like a small needle to the bubble that Maddox had started to create, and I felt it like a pinprick in my heart. No, I wasn’t perfect, but that… hurt. There was no need for him to talk about me like that, and I started to feel anger rising within me.
“This is beginning to sound less and less like you don’t want us to have a leader, and more like you just don’t want Liana to lead us,” Zoe said.
“What? No, that’s not what I’m saying!”
“But it’s what it sounds like,” I said, unable to stop myself. He looked at me, a flicker of doubt rippling across his face. Mine stayed angry, and the doubt faded as his expression hardened into an icy mask.
“So what if it is? My concerns are valid. We don’t need a leader!”
“Yes, but the rest of us want one,” Quess reminded him patiently. “So what’s your problem?”
“My problem?” he asked, his eyebrows going high. “My problem is that not a single person here knows what we’re doing, and electing one person over another, just because they managed to take care of a few things, is more than a bit stupid.”
“A few things?” Zoe exclaimed, her eyes bulging.
I swallowed hard. He was now adding salt to the wound, and while I wasn’t typically a proud person, this was really becoming upsetting. It was almost like he didn’t think I was capable of doing anything past what I had already done. Why was he
being so petty?
“Yes, a few things,” Grey said, not backing down. “But so what if she has? That doesn’t mean that she knows what’s best for the future.”
“And you do, by dictating who should and should not lead us?” I burst out, putting my hands on my hips.
We glared at each other for a long moment, and I waited for him to say something, to realize he was acting like a jerk and apologize.
“Forget it,” he said abruptly, shaking his head. “You’ve already made your decisions. Congratulations, Liana.” His voice came out a bitter growl, and my emotions threatened to boil over.
“Thank you,” I replied, unable to keep a bitter bite out of my voice. “All of you, I’m not sure what to say, except… I promise to do the best I can to keep you all safe.” I managed to make the last part of it sound genuine, but faltered when it came to adding anything else.
“Nice speech,” Maddox said wryly. “Is that all? I’d kind of like to get some sleep.”
I nodded, and everyone immediately began to get up off the floor and get the hammocks set up. I lingered, my arms wrapped around my stomach, and Grey remained still as well, his back rigid.
I waited, hoping he would say something, but when it became apparent he wouldn’t, I started. “Grey, what—”
“Don’t, Liana,” he said. “I’m still upset, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
The hurt continued to build. I was beyond frustrated; this was the man who not even half an hour ago had been holding my hand to comfort me. He had reassured me that none of what had happened was my fault.
And now he was acting like this.
“Grey, what is your problem?” I asked, unable to let it go. “You’re acting like a jerk.”
He finally looked at me, his face hard. “You don’t even get it, do you?” he bit off.
“Well, I'm trying to, but you’re not talking!”
“You don’t get what being a leader involves.”
I paused, stumbling for words as I tried to reel in my emotions. “I… I’m not claiming to be the best,” I managed. “In fact, I stated the opposite! But the others seem to believe in me, so I guess I must have a fair idea of what it involves… What is it? Did you want to be the leader?”
He gave me an incredulous look, and then stood in one fluid motion. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
He didn’t wait for my reply, just walked off. I gaped at him, watching him move around to the other side of a blanket that had been strung across a long pipe, stretching almost perfectly across the width of the room, sectioning it off. Eric and Zoe had set it up after they finished with the rust hawks, dividing the room into a common area and sleeping area.
The blanket rose and fell as he passed, and then he was gone, hidden behind it.
“What just happened?” I asked out loud a moment later, more baffled and hurt than angry now. I didn’t expect anyone to answer—the question was delivered under my breath, after all. Still, I was vaguely disappointed that the answer wasn’t forthcoming.
7
“This is a neural scrambler,” Quess said, holding a small black box the size of my pinkie nail carefully pinched between two large fingers. “It goes right at the base of the skull, around the area where your net sits, and activates it.”
It was the next evening, and Quess and I were getting ready to depart. We’d only been up a few hours; it had been late in the morning when we had finally gotten to sleep, and none of us had stirred until just around sunset. We had broken down the tasks that needed to be done and given everyone jobs, and talking with Mercury was Quess’s and my first task for the evening. I had to admit, I was pretty nervous about setting foot outside. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Devon attacked us, and I had no doubt that he was still searching the area.
“Activate it?” I asked, dubious of the tiny thing. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be avoiding?”
“Well, yes and no. This is basically going to hold your net open, as if you’re about to establish a connection with another person’s net, and that will prevent them from actively scanning you. The downside is that it will cause your net to buzz continuously while it’s on. Two hours maximum, all right?”
I nodded, my mouth dry. “Got it,” I replied, wiping some of the sweat from my palms. I took one last second to prepare myself, and then turned around and lifted my hair, tensing in anticipation. Moments later, his hands were there, pressing the chip against the exposed skin at the nape of my neck. I lowered my head when the pressure withdrew, and turned.
“Is that—” I cut off as the buzz of the net activating began to rattle around under my skull, and winced. “Never mind, it’s working.”
“Good,” he said, taking a step back to get his things. Unlike me, he didn’t need a neural scrambler—it was extremely unlikely Devon could identify him based on the whirlwind fighting he had been engaged in, so we reasoned his net was fine. I waited for him to pick up the satchel next to him, then proceeded to open the hatch.
Immediately there was a rush of air and wind as the door pulled up and away from the hole in the ground, and I looked out into the inky blackness below. I could hear the sound of the river rushing by, but beneath us there was nothing but irradiated sands and earth. If we fell from here, there would be no way to save ourselves.
“Hey, so, uh… I meant to ask you. How are you doing since…”
“Since Grey and I fought?” I asked, standing and pulling a lash end out of the slot in my sleeve where the bead was kept. “No need to dance around it. Everyone was there.”
“I’m sorry. Has everyone been dancing around it?”
“More like not talking about it in the most overt ways—namely by avoiding one-on-one conversations with me. Looks like you’re the odd man out.”
I spun the bead and let out a few inches of slack with a sharp flick of my wrist, then slapped it onto the ceiling with a sharp tink.
“Well, I’m certainly not going to complain about getting a few hours in which I have you to myself, but… I’m not so certain I want to spend it talking about your boyfriend.”
I gave him a wry look. “Then don’t.”
I dropped down through the hole, eager to get away from the conversation, and let the winch in my suit lower me quickly, until I was dangling in a wide-open space. The wind caught me, pushing me to one side, and I tossed the other lash end a few feet away, attaching it to the greenery above me and moving to one side to give Quess some room.
It was pitch black outside—nighttime, with everything covered in a layer of shadow, so I quickly donned the goggles with red lenses that Cali had given me. According to her, they enhanced ambient light, as well as revealed hidden marks Tian had painted on the walls that guided our way. They certainly helped cut through the darkness as I peered around, noting the absence of any movement.
We were near the edge of the arm that jutted out of the Tower like a flat, wide fin. It was as wide as the Tower, but stretched out three hundred feet. There were fourteen greeneries in total, each five stories high and staggered by twenty stories. We were under Greenery 1, which started fifty feet above the surface. Unlike Greenery 2, which sat on the opposite side of 1, this one crossed over the river that fed into the hydro-turbines, which generated power for the Tower. The turbines kicked up a lot of water, so part of the underside of the greenery was blanketed in a thick mist.
But here it was clear and still. There wasn’t any sign of movement. “It’s clear!” I called quietly, and a moment later, Quess dropped down.
“This way,” he said.
To my surprise, he moved away from the Tower itself, toward the edge of the greenery. He threw his lashes quickly, but I kept up, using the goggles to check for any markings from Tian, to help me avoid obstacles like pieces of exposed machinery and keep an eye out for any crimson-clad figures that could be patrolling the area.
Quess led us directly to the edge, then, to my surprise, up and over it, sca
ling the side using his lashes. I followed, feeling horribly exposed as we made our way up the glass-covered side. It was silly—no one inside could see through the glass when it was dark like this—but I still felt vulnerable.
Quess suddenly shifted his trajectory partway up and headed right, toward a dome that jutted out of the side of the greenery. I recognized the design from the time Cali had taken me with her to talk with Mercury; it was a relay station for collecting and uploading net data to Scipio’s mainframe. One of the places where they gathered our emotional content and compressed it into streams of data for him to render judgment upon us. The dome itself was a computer, in a fashion, but only collected data and relayed net transmissions to help ease some of the total load on Scipio.
I stared at the pod, biting my lip and thinking about the meeting with our Scipio earlier that morning. According to him, the main AI was supposed to collect that information to identify those who weren’t adjusting well, and offer them support. But now pods like these represented places that contributed to the ranking system, stripping away all empathy and compassion and converting people into a numeric value that determined their value to the Tower. It was hard not to hate them, even though I knew now that they’d started out as part of a benign system—even a helpful one.
Quess cracked open the hatch on the side, opening it and slipping inside. A moment later I lashed up after him and pulled the hatch closed behind me, sealing us inside the tight, dark space, which was lit only by a few small lights that blinked intermittently on and off—this station was a bit different than the one I’d visited with Cali.