Surrender

  The Director nodded. “Yes, of course. What kind of voice do you think it would take to brainwash an Enforcement Officer?”

  “A pretty powerful one.”

  The Director looked at Thane again, who acted like he hadn’t heard the line of questioning. “What about a Thinker?”

  I breathed in, smelling something in the office I never had before. Antiseptic. I shook my head, not sure what the Director was getting at or what the new scent meant. “I don’t understand.”

  “He doesn’t understand.” The Director aimed his words toward Thane.

  “He understands fine,” Thane retorted before focusing on me. I couldn’t figure out what game he was playing, but I felt like I had a major role.

  With both of them glaring in my direction and my barely contained fury covering all other emotions, I stood up. The Director relaxed into his chair, but his jaw muscles twitched.

  The tension in the room settled in my shoulders, along my back. I waited one, two, three breaths before saying, “Are we done?”

  “Hardly,” Thane answered. “Sit down, Gunner.”

  The power in his tone slammed into me. I could withstand the control, and to prove it to him, I took my time returning to my ergonomic.

  “See? He understands fine.” Something came through in Thane’s words. Annoyance? Sure enough, I watched it pass through his eyes as he looked at the Director. And something like pleading shone in his irises when he locked on to me again. I wished he’d unlock his feelings so I could get a better read on what the hell I was supposed to do. But he kept them boxed up tight-tight-tight.

  Interesting.

  “Tell me what you understand, Gunner,” the Director commanded. This time the control tactic came in my mind, not my ears. The Director possessed no voice power, but he made me think I’d been waiting for ages to tell him what I understood.

  “If you’re asking me if voices can brainwash Thinkers, then the answer is yes.” My explanation came out in clipped syllables.

  “Can you brainwash me?” His question sounded like a challenge.

  I thought of Thane punching his way through the window. I looked at the silver floor and found myself mirrored there. Angry lines shadowed my eyes, and my mouth was set in defiance. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t erase my fury.

  I didn’t want to.

  I met the Director’s gaze. “I believe I can, sir.”

  Everything in the room stilled. The awkward staring contest was broken by the Director’s words. “I believe you can too, Mr. Jameson.” Half a heartbeat passed. “Why don’t you try it right now?”

  This was my chance to get Vi’s file. I narrowed my eyes at Director Hightower, willing all other distractions to fade into the background. With my—and his—cache off, I connected to him. Forward me Violet Schoenfeld’s complete file.

  His nostrils flared; his eyes glazed. From somewhere beyond my awareness, an alarm sounded. But in my realm only the Director existed.

  You didn’t say please, Thane coached over my cache. I didn’t dare look at him, but was he mocking me?

  Please. I kept my gaze locked with Director Hightower. Forward me Violet Schoenfeld’s complete file. Please.

  A moment later I received a holy-huge doc from Director Hightower. I shouldered my backpack and left Thane’s office—for good.

  Thane let me go, no questions asked.

  Very interesting.

  * * *

  I went to the one person Thane and Director Hightower wanted me to: Starr. I had no idea how long it would be before they came looking for me. I wanted to get rid of Vi’s file as soon as possible, and even if she didn’t want to, Starr would help me. When I knocked on her door, I realized I’d be telling her good-bye too.

  “Gunn,” she said after she opened the door, her eyebrows so high I couldn’t see them through her super-yellow bangs.

  “Hey.” I leaned against the doorframe, suddenly exhausted. “Got a sec?”

  She recovered nicely by painting a perfect smile on her somehow-already-glossed lips. She shrugged into her coat and hat. We strolled down the street without speaking, the sky swirling with snowflakes.

  I knew she was waiting for me to explain myself. After all, I’d never shown up at her flat before; I was as surprised as she was that I even knew she lived in Rise Six.

  But I needed her. Desperately. She was an Insider; she would understand. “Starr,” I started.

  “Shut up, Gunner.” She stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. “How could you kiss her?”

  I remained silent as Starr’s anger assaulted me. And once she started lecturing, she couldn’t stop. “You’re really messing things up. And not just you-know-what stuff, but breaking into prison? Kissing other girls? You could get into some serious trouble. This is more than citations. This is major protocol-shattering stuff, Gunner.” Her tone increased in both volume and pitch until I thought my eardrums would explode. None of it mattered anyway. I wasn’t going to be around long enough to shatter protocol.

  “Starr, stop,” I said, without using my voice.

  She stopped. Finally.

  “I need you, okay?” I said, feeling like the world’s ragingest loser. “I’m going to send you a file that you can’t show to anyone. You can’t delete it, and if anyone asks—especially AD Myers—about it, you have to lie for me. I need you to give it to Raine as quick as you can. Okay?”

  She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. I hadn’t realized she was crying during her tirade. It didn’t make sense. “Why are you crying?”

  She wiped her face and glared. “You make me so mad. Whether we want to be or not, we’re in this together. When you get in trouble, so do I.”

  She was right. Raine’s friendship with Cannon made much more sense now.

  She sighed. “Send me the file,” she said just as I asked, “Who would you pick?”

  “What?”

  I loaded the file into an e-comm. “Who would you pick?” I sent the message, deleted the e-comm from Director Hightower. Now, no matter who asked, I had no evidence Thane could use against me. Of course, I’d put Starr in danger until she could unload the file, but she had more experience with subterfuge. She’d be fine.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “You won’t like him,” she warned.

  “You don’t like Raine.”

  She sighed. “It’s not that I don’t like Raine. It’s …”

  “It’s what?” I was totally confused and obviously missing something.

  “You’re mine,” Starr said, shrugging.

  I shook my head. “But you don’t even like me!”

  “I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

  “No,” I said. “You said I wouldn’t like him.”

  A half smile lifted her lips. “Trek.”

  “No,” I said automatically. “No way. No way in hell. You’re mine.”

  “You’re both mine.”

  I froze at the sound of that voice.

  “AD Myers,” Starr said cheerfully. She slipped her arm into mine. “We were just taking a walk. Care to join us?”

  Raine

  22.

  I watched Gunn stride out of Rise Nine, his hands fisted inside his coat pockets. An overpowering want sang through me. I caught myself just as his name threatened to leave my mouth. I ended up biting my lip to keep the sound contained.

  He moved with purpose, heading north. Curiosity nagged at me, and I almost followed him. But I didn’t want to go stalker on him, and I wasn’t supposed to care where he went, so I ascended to his flat instead.

  Zenn let me in without a question or even so much as a raised eyebrow.

  “Wow, your place is clean,” I said, noting the spotless surfaces—and the sweet scramblers in the ceiling.

  “For a while,” Zenn replied easily. He settled into one ergonomic and gestured to the other one as if to say, Sit, tell me everything.

  I sat. I told him
everything in bursts of breath and words. Where Gunn had immediately dismissed my ideas about partial voice control, Zenn leaned forward, his eyes sparking with energy.

  “Interesting,” he whispered. “Talents are as wide and varied as the earth—which is why I personally believe we’ll never be able to clone them. Maybe it has something to do with your … other ability.”

  Worry seethed beneath my muscles, making them tight. When I’d touched Vi and then kissed Gunn, I hadn’t been able to see anything. But I didn’t dare tell Zenn that.

  “That’s a seeing talent,” Zenn mused. “But I have to agree with Gunner. I’ve never heard of partial voice power.” He looked at something on his vision-screen, making him seem unreachable.

  I said nothing. I needed Vi’s file to really be able to awaken anything useful. An old hairstyle couldn’t help the Insiders—or Gunn and Jag. I knew Vi possessed considerable talent, otherwise she wouldn’t be my flatmate.

  “If I understand this correctly, you can see what people want most, right?” Zenn asked, glancing up to the ceiling. I followed his gaze and found the scrambler blinking with blue light. Even as I inhaled, the frequency increased. We only had a few minutes without surveillance left.

  “Quickly, Raine.”

  “Yes. And then I see what will happen if they get it.” Something dawned in my mind. “So what Vi wants most is to be free,” I said slowly. “And I’m able to help her with that because …”

  “You’re there to listen,” Zenn supplied.

  “Yeah, but you’ve been there too,” I argued. “This makes no sense.” Another glance at the blue light showed it pulsing so quickly it was almost solid.

  “But I—” Zenn started. He leaned forward, his eyes hot and scared. “I’m Informant. I’ve done very little. I taught her some songs her mother used to sing. That’s it.”

  “I’ll work with her,” I whispered, disappointed Zenn hadn’t been doing anything for eight solid months. A faint whining sound filtered down from the ceiling. “She doesn’t sleep well, and after Gunn and Jag leave—”

  Don’t say that name! The assistant’s voice crashed over my cache, eliminating the rest of my spoken sentence.

  Zenn jumped to his feet, so I did too. The blue light in the ceiling had vanished, and so had Zenn. As an insistent knock came on the door, I saw his silhouette as he stepped from the balcony onto a hoverboard.

  I’d taken one step to follow him when the voice spoke.

  Get the door, Raine. And please stop saying that name. You’re not supposed to know who he is.

  All right, all right, I mumbled back to the assistant. You could’ve warned me his name was flagged. I knew this person was risking everything. His family, his job, his life. For me. For the Insiders. But still. His patronizing monotone annoyed me.

  Hello? I did warn you.

  Which was true and only served to further ignite my anger. I flung Gunn’s door open. My rage fled, replaced by a cold fear. A gasp escaped my lips. Then I pulled myself together, packaging every emotion deep inside.

  “Hey, Dad. What’s up?” My voice hardly shook at all.

  “I rescheduled our family dinner for tonight.” Dad glanced over my shoulder and scanned the empty flat. “And you’re late.”

  * * *

  The trip to the glass and chrome prison dining room passed in silence. Dad hadn’t said anything more at Gunn’s before I slunk behind him with my head down.

  The air in the dining room suffocated me. Tech lights glinted off the silver platters and crystal goblets. Dad settled at the head of the table and fixed me with a hard glare until I slumped into my chair opposite him. Clones served the first course: a rich, earthy soup.

  Dad ate slowly, as if to prolong my punishment by keeping me in this wretched room. “Eat, Rainey.”

  He didn’t say it in kindness, but as a command. My hand automatically moved to my spoon, and I dipped into the pumpkin curry soup. It burned all the way down my throat. After one bite, I deliberately replaced my spoon on the glass tabletop.

  “Just say it, Dad.”

  “You should not have been in that flat tonight.”

  But that’s not why he practically busted the door down.

  He laid his silverware down with angry clinks. “You must be more careful about where you’re seen, who you’re seen with.”

  “Seen by who?” I asked. “This is ridiculous. People only see what you want them to see.”

  “Well, someone saw you flying last night.”

  The perfect excuse stuck in my throat, and a strangled squeak came out instead. Cold dread filled my stomach. My hands trembled. I pressed them firmly against the glass to quiet them.

  “I have permission to fly at night,” I said. “Your permission.”

  “That Jameson boy left the track just before you. Did you happen to see him?”

  “Gunner?” My voice came out too high. I took a quick drink and managed not to slop water down the front of my shirt. “No, I didn’t see him. He has an ultrasweet hoverboard. That thing is dead silent.”

  Dad nodded and waved his hand. A clone entered with the main course. The roast duck gleamed a golden brown under the bright lights. I pushed the wild rice around on my plate, hoping the conversation had ended.

  Five minutes later Dad launched into the worst lecture of my life. I hadn’t spent enough time worrying about Cannon; I hadn’t filed any reports re: Violet for the past week (apparently being unconscious isn’t a good enough excuse); I’d let myself get distracted by Gunner.

  Each word seared into my mind. I felt naked before him, his razor-wire voice cutting through my every defense. I kept my eyes on the table in an effort to close the one-sided discussion.

  “You might find Gunner strangely absent if you can’t pull yourself together,” he said, and I jerked my head up. Dad’s expression remained steely.

  “Your actions have consequences, and not only for yourself. Other people are influenced by your choices.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Zenn could probably use a reminder of his responsibilities as my junior assistant. I’ll speak to him in the morning.”

  He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward to drive his point home. “And you know, Raine, a boy should be able to properly motivate his match. I’ll schedule another chat with Cannon.” He said “another” like it would be the last meeting with Cannon.

  “No.” I shook my head, conceding. Horror snaked through me at the thought of my dad hurting Cannon. “Please don’t do that, Dad. You’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right, Rainey. I always am.”

  * * *

  An hour later I’d e-commed Cannon again. I was bordering on stalker status with the comms. But he still hadn’t answered. Guilt twisted in my stomach. He’d had to meet with my father about his citation, and I hadn’t heard from him since.

  I took a deep breath and composed a message to Flare Riding, Cannon’s last crush. Maybe she’d seen him while I’d been out of commission. Her reply came less than thirty seconds later. Haven’t heard from him. Sorry.

  I lay in my dark room listening to Vi mutter in her sleep. Gunn was leaving in three days, yet I could still feel the gentle pressure of his mouth against mine. I smelled the toasty, male scent of his skin. My hand felt empty without his.

  I’d definitely gone too far with my Gunn fantasy. I forced him from my mind, and in the blank space Zenn’s face came forward. He didn’t deserve to be punished for my mistakes, even if he wasn’t doing anything for Vi.

  And if he didn’t, Cannon certainly didn’t. After everything went down on Monday, I’d find out why he hadn’t been at school. I’d play the perfect best friend, the perfect match.

  Tears filled with helplessness splashed over my cheeks. I have no choice. I have to comply. Because my dad was right about one thing: My actions had consequences for everyone I knew.

  So I stuffed my wants into the dark space in my soul until I couldn’t feel them anymore.

  Then I commed Cannon a
gain.

  Gunner

  23.

  People talked around me, but I couldn’t construct the noise into meaning. Flowers and fresh-cut grass and the scent of rain filled the air. My flat didn’t smell like this, yet I lay in a bed; the squishiness of blankets and pillows cradled my body.

  I couldn’t remember the last thing I’d been doing. I struggled to sit up, to open my eyes. When neither of those things happened, I tried to call out, but only managed a hoarse cry.

  Then warm hands brushed my forehead. “Settle down, Gunner.”

  Starr? I thought, hoping I still had an operating cache.

  Yes, it’s me.

  Where am I? Why can’t I get up?

  A shuffling of feet sounded somewhere to my right. “No, he’s not awake,” Starr said. Something in her tone convinced me that I needed to feign sleep. I immediately tried to even my breathing, lie still. No one spoke, but the footsteps exited the room.

  We don’t have much time, Gunner. The bed shifted as Starr sat down and fidgeted.

  Time for what? I asked, more afraid than I wanted to admit. Starr wasn’t generally nervous/scared enough to squirm.

  Thane is insisting he accompany you back to your flat. I told him you needed to sleep for a couple of hours.

  I felt like I could heave at any moment. The heat of her body contrasted with the icy veins of sickness snaking through my body. What does he want?

  He asked about a file. I told him to search your mind. That’s why you can’t get up. He … well, he really dug deep.

  Starr—

  I didn’t tell him. I sent the file to my e-board and erased the e-comm. You just need to rest. You haven’t been sleeping much, have you, Gunner?

  I didn’t answer, because the deep shadows under my eyes had already said everything.

  I have a couple of things I need to tell you, Starr chatted. Her trepidation swirled with the lilac scent in the room. The bed moved as she stood up.

  I know you’re looking for a journal. Even in thought, her voice sounded strange. Controlling. We’re all counting on you, Gunner.