Insignia

  Now Dalton was doing his “patriotic duty” and setting Tom up. The Beringer Club must’ve had some way to detect Medusa net-sending him. The leak was out, and so was some incriminating information about Tom. It was all so very Dalton.

  “Do you even have the slightest understanding of how serious this situation is, Mr. Raines? Whoever leaked those names committed treason. There’s a mandatory ten-year prison sentence for treason.”

  The word “prison” did it. The horrendous urge to laugh dissolved. Tom dragged his gaze up to Blackburn’s. “Look, I do have an online friend in China, but it’s . . .” He hesitated, knowing this was just going to make his case look worse, but honesty was the only thing he could offer. “Sir, I was meeting Medusa, okay? But I can explain. I didn’t leak anything, I swear.”

  “Medusa.” Blackburn scrubbed a big palm over his mouth. “The Russo-Chinese Combatant, Medusa . . . Even you can’t be this stupid, Raines.”

  “We just hung around and talked and played games.” The words spilled out of him. “I was just curious about her, okay? But I never said anything classified. It wasn’t me.”

  Blackburn knelt down so they were at eye level. His voice was softer. “And she never sent you a link to a third-party website? Never directed you somewhere online that required you to run a script? Raines, are you very sure she couldn’t have snuck a Trojan into your processor that opened a back door into our system?”

  “She wouldn’t do that.” It couldn’t be her. It had to be Dalton.

  But . . .

  Involuntarily, his brain turned back to Medusa net-sending him a message in the Beringer Club. She’d managed to penetrate his firewall and leave a message in his vision center, the way he’d done to her.

  He knew how he’d done it. He’d done that thing where he hooked into the satellites, where he floated right through the firewall of the Sun Tzu Citadel. That was the thing he could do. But come to think of it, he still didn’t know how she’d managed it. How she’d penetrated the firewall and gotten to him.

  No. He shook his head. No, Medusa wouldn’t do that. She’d kissed him. It couldn’t be her.

  “But she likes me. We’re not . . . We’re . . .” He stopped, his cheeks burning.

  He’d said enough. Blackburn reared back to his feet with a great sigh. “The honeypot is the oldest trick in the espionage book, Mr. Raines. Pretty faces have taken in presidents and generals, and it’s not outside the realm of possibility that one could take in a teenage boy. You need to get dressed and come with me.”

  Tom rose from his bed and numbly pulled on his uniform, his mind racing over every encounter he’d had with Medusa, trying to pick out some hint she’d been manipulating him. He couldn’t see it. The leak couldn’t have been his fault, could it have?

  Vik was still snoring softly in the other bed when Tom followed Blackburn from the room. In that moment, he would’ve given anything to be sleeping again, too.

  When he stepped out of Alexander Division into the plebe common room, he found armed soldiers waiting. Their guns reared to attention at the sight of him, and Tom’s blood froze in his veins. The utter seriousness of the situation sank in. His heart began pounding wildly. He couldn’t seem to take another step. He couldn’t move.

  Ten years in prison . . .

  “Put those down. All of you,” Blackburn ordered sharply. “Raines, pay them no mind. We’re going downstairs to talk.”

  Tom’s throat was bone-dry. He felt rooted in place.

  “I’m not a spy.”

  “I believe you,” Blackburn said. “I’m fully convinced that if the Russians or Chinese wanted to sneak a double agent into the Spire, it would not be you. So ignore the guns and focus on me.” He pointed two fingers at his eyes, and Tom focused on them. “I’m sure this wasn’t intentional on your part. You won’t go to prison for being a dupe. But we have to go downstairs, and I need to see your processor so I can check for malware. They could be accessing the Spire right now.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes, Raines. So we’ll do a system scan and see. And then we’ll use the census device to check your meetings so I can get proof you did nothing intentional here. Understand?”

  Tom swallowed, and swallowed again. He felt like there was a mass jammed in his throat.

  “Y-yes, sir.” He moved his legs that suddenly seemed to weigh a ton, and followed Blackburn into the elevator.

  IN THE INFIRMARY, a tired-eyed Dr. Gonzales strapped a blood-pressure cuff to his arm and began giving him a physical for what Blackburn told him would be a neural culling with the census device.

  “A neural culling is much like a regular memory viewing,” Blackburn explained. He was hovering over a nearby computer that was connected to Tom’s brain stem port by a neural wire. The screen flickered with data, Tom’s scan in progress.

  Tom just watched that screen from afar, his skin prickling all over with anxiety as he waited for Blackburn to find something.

  “The census device will sort through your processor’s indexed memories using an alternative search algorithm,” Blackburn went on, eyes on his screen. “You don’t steer the device this time. It steers itself and looks for memories and mental images you try to hide. . . . There!”

  His exclamation made Tom jump. He watched the lieutenant type rapidly at the keyboard. “And there it is.” His voice was triumphant. “This must be the malware. It’s certainly not mine.”

  Tom’s heart lurched. He leaped to his feet and rushed over to see it, because he had to witness Medusa’s treachery for himself. Dr. Gonzales cursed, and Tom realized he still had the blood pressure cuff on, and the equipment trailing behind him had upended a box of supplies.

  But he couldn’t focus on that right now. He grabbed the back of Blackburn’s chair and looked over his shoulder, his eyes picking frantically over the data on the screen. Relief surged through him when he glimpsed the suspicious file name. He shook his head. “That’s not malware, sir.”

  “Raines, this is a sophisticated piece of software. I don’t expect you to understand—”

  “I’m telling you, it’s not malware. It’s Wyatt’s.” He thought quickly of a reason for it to be there. “I asked Wyatt to write it for me after the war games. You know, because my programs suck.”

  “They do,” Blackburn agreed absently, studying the program.

  “Is that all you’ve found?” Tom asked hopefully. “There’s nothing else?”

  He flipped off the screen. “Yes, that’s it.”

  Tom could’ve whooped in triumph. No honeypot. No treachery. Medusa hadn’t been using him to spy on the Spire. It wasn’t his fault. He hopped back up on the examination table, feeling like he could soar up into the stratosphere, he was so relieved. Dr. Gonzales resumed his physical exam.

  “So we’ve just gotta do this neural-culling thing, then I can go?” he asked Blackburn as Dr. Gonzales listened to his back with a stethoscope.

  “We’ll stick you in the census device, and then you’re off on your merry way.”

  Tom found himself grinning. He couldn’t help it. It was the best news he’d ever heard. He was sure of it.

  Blackburn’s eyes narrowed. “But if you think I’m not at least putting you on restricted libs for being a colossal idiot, you have another thing coming.”

  Tom shrugged it off. Restricted libs was nothing compared to ten years in prison.

  Dr. Gonzales stood up straight and ripped off the blood pressure cuff. “He’s healthy, Lieutenant. I’ll sign the authorization forms now.”

  “Authorization forms?” Tom echoed.

  Blackburn reached back, and retrieved a pile of papers. “A neural culling requires physician consent.”

  “Will you need anything else?” Dr. Gonzales asked, flipping through one paper, signing it, and then the next. Then the next. On and on the stack went, and Tom wondered why there were so many papers for this. “Should I send someone down with incontinence supplies?”

  Tom looked at Blackburn
sharply. “Incontinence supplies?”

  Blackburn shook his head. “It shouldn’t be necessary.”

  “Incontinence supplies? I thought you said this is just like a standard viewing!”

  Blackburn considered him. “It is, Raines. As long as there’s no resistance on your part, it is just like a standard viewing. But sometimes, especially in the beginning of the culling, people tend to fight the census device. A neural culling is intrusive. It brings up things you may not want to share, memories you may only half recall. It also brings up private mental images.”

  “Private mental images,” Tom repeated, understanding it. “Like, uh, daydreams.”

  “Yes.”

  “And other things like that.”

  “Yes,” Blackburn said impatiently.

  “You’re going to see them,” Tom repeated.

  “Yes, Raines, and if you can’t get over that, I’ll end up seeing a lot of them. For both our sakes, embrace immodesty.”

  Tom’s head throbbed. “So why incontinence supplies?”

  “Prolonged resistance leads to a prolonged culling,” Blackburn explained. “The device is designed to search for memories you actively conceal. If you resist, it begins digging out other, unrelated memories in an attempt to neutralize your ability to resist. It strips away your psychological defense mechanisms in a systematic fashion. Theoretically, it could break your mind. But that won’t be an issue. If you didn’t commit treason, you have nothing worth hiding from me, and this will be over very quickly.”

  Something nagged at Tom’s brain, though. And he didn’t figure out what it was until they were out of the infirmary, heading down the hallway toward the elevator. Blackburn waved away the armed soldiers again, grumbling something about overkill, so the soldiers lowered their guns again and fell behind them at a distance.

  Halfway to the elevator, Tom stopped dead in his tracks.

  He was remembering something: jogging through these hallways with Yuri.

  With Yuri.

  Yuri, who had a new firewall.

  Tom’s vague worry morphed into real horror. He knew Yuri’s secret, Wyatt’s secret. He hadn’t committed treason, but they had. If he knew it, Blackburn would soon know it. The neural culling would find that in his brain.

  “Wait. I don’t want to do this.”

  Blackburn turned negligently. “Refusal’s not an option here, Raines.” He studied him a moment. “I realize you’re afraid—”

  “I’m not scared,” Tom protested.

  “Good. You shouldn’t be. Let’s go and get this over with.”

  “I don’t want to get a neural culling, sir!”

  “This is not a choice.” Blackburn spoke slowly, like he was explaining something to a young child. “You don’t have right of refusal when national security is concerned.”

  Tom could hear his heart pounding, it was beating so hard. He hadn’t worn his forearm keyboard, so he scanned the nearest wall for a computer. Maybe he could net-send Wyatt a warning. Then she could rescramble Yuri and cover up evidence or whatever.

  “Can I contact someone first?”

  Blackburn’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

  Tom couldn’t answer that.

  “You’re beginning to seem very suspicious right now, Mr. Raines, do you realize that?”

  Tom was breathing hard. He looked at the soldiers, then at Blackburn, a sense of doom crashing over him.

  “Okay, I’ll go,” Tom said. He started to follow, waiting until Blackburn bought it and turned away from him. Then Tom whipped around and sprinted off down the hallway..

  Cries rang out behind him, “After him!”

  TOM WASN’T STUPID enough to think he’d be able to escape the Pentagon all on his own. There was one person who could step in right now and avert disaster—a person even General Marsh couldn’t touch. He just hoped she was there. He threw himself against Olivia Ossare’s glass door, and pounded his hand against it. He heard boots thumping toward him.

  Moron, moron, moron, Tom’s thoughts beat. It’s not even 0700, of course she’s not here yet . . .

  And then she rose up from the other side of the desk, where she’d been leaning down, going through her drawers. Relief gushed through him. As soon as she slid aside the glass door, he bolted inside, fighting the wild urge to grab her and whirl her in a circle or something.

  “You’re here in case we have a problem with our military custodians, right?” Tom said, all in a rush. “Well, I’ve got a huge problem with my military custodians.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

  “You have to help me. You have to.” Tom heard pounding on the door, and jumped a foot in the air, stumbling into her desk away from the sound.

  Outside the door, Blackburn’s soldiers were staring in at them. Tom felt sickened by the enormity of what was happening here.

  “What is it?” Olivia stepped toward the door.

  “Don’t!” Tom grabbed her arm. “Don’t open it.”

  But she took his wrist and gently eased his grip from her. “Tom, sit down. I am going to tell them to wait.”

  “What if they won’t listen to you?”

  She squeezed his hand, then released it. “They’ll listen.” There was steel in her voice. “Now sit down.”

  Tom couldn’t seem to catch his breath. But there was a calmness, a self-assurance in her voice, that made him somehow believe her.

  When she turned toward the soldiers, he grabbed her computer, called up net-send, and started to type in a message to Wyatt . . . Then he realized it. No, he couldn’t do this, either. Blackburn could track it. He deleted it quickly. His brain went blank. He couldn’t think of anything to do. He didn’t have any way to save himself.

  His eyes riveted to the soldiers beyond the glass, arguing with Olivia. Her soft voice persisted, and then amazingly, miraculously, they backed off. Tom never would’ve thought some guys with guns would listen to her. She closed the door and settled behind her desk.

  “Want to fill me in, Tom?” she asked him.

  Tom closed his eyes, trying to sort it all out. He knew he’d made a mistake, running from Blackburn. He didn’t know what else he could’ve done.

  “Blackburn thinks I’m the leak and he’s going to use the census device on me.” His words began spilling out faster and faster, “I’m not the leak. I swear it, I’m not. And it’s not like a regular memory viewing. They’re going to rip memories out of my head. Blackburn said it could break your brain if you use it long enough. Dr. Gonzales said it could make you incontinent. I don’t want to be incontinent, okay? I don’t!”

  Olivia’s brow knit like she was pondering it. “They have no right to force this on you, Tom. I’ll speak to Lieutenant Blackburn.”

  “He won’t listen to you. Look, do you have any civilian resources that can help? Any at all? Because I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’ll talk to General Marsh.”

  “He’s in India right now meeting with some military guys about the Capitol Summit.”

  And then Blackburn himself was at the door, speaking to the soldiers. Tom clenched his fists on the desk in front of him, watching with a knot of dread in his throat the way Blackburn lifted his forearm keyboard, typed something, and—

  Click. The lock snapped open.

  Blackburn strode through the door.

  Olivia leaped to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted at him, rushing around her desk and planting herself between Blackburn and Tom. “This is my office. You don’t have the right to break in here!”

  “And that’s one of our plebes.”

  “You can’t do this.” When Blackburn moved toward Tom, Olivia stepped in his way. “I’m this boy’s advocate, and I am not letting you seize him and subject him to that device. He’s a civilian, and you don’t have this authority. You are breaking the law, Lieutenant!”

  He was unimpressed. “A law’s a piece of paper unless someone’s willing and able to enforce it. Let’s
ask the folks with the guns, shall we? I’m breaking the law here. Anyone care to arrest me?” He threw up his hands in mock surrender and glanced back at his troops, who just stood there in silence. “No? Well, that answers that. Move aside, Ms. Ossare.”

  He started forward again, but she stopped him by planting her hands on his chest. “How dare you.” Rage made her voice shake. “You are overstepping your jurisdiction. These are his legal rights—”

  “Before you lecture me about civil rights, tell me, really, how have you been here for three long years without figuring out the way things work? He’s not at a summer camp. He’s a military asset. His rights begin and end with that neural processor in his brain—and that’s still more than most of the rabble can claim. As for my jurisdiction? I have brute force. You have words. One trumps the other. I’ll show you which.” He plucked her hands from his chest, then whirled her around, and shoved her out of his way.

  She started for him again, but one of Blackburn’s men caught her around the waist. Tom jumped to his feet, because Olivia looked ready to fight them all, and he wasn’t going to let her get hurt. He’d done everything he could, coming here, seeing if there were civilian resources. There weren’t. It was done, and it would only get worse if he didn’t stop this now.

  “Ms. Ossare, don’t! It’s okay. I’ll go with them.”

  “Thatta boy, Raines,” Blackburn said, closing the distance and seizing him. This time, he didn’t tell the soldiers to lower the guns they’d raised. He dragged Tom from the room with a firm grip on his arm.

  Olivia rushed after them as soon as she was free. She reached out, and her dark hand enveloped his, just briefly. “Tom, I will get you out of this,” she pledged. “I swear it.”

  “Thanks,” Tom said, before Blackburn jerked him forward and out of her reach. He didn’t think she could, though. He knew nothing could save him from the census device now.

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  Chapter Twenty-Six