Vortex

  “Checkmate,” Yuri said, moving his rook into position, pleased with himself.

  “I saw it coming,” Wyatt said. “And that’s without using my neural processor. No computero. Just braino. My braino.”

  “You have a magnificent braino,” Yuri murmured. Wyatt beamed at him, and Tom suddenly felt like he was spying on a private moment.

  “Are you guys done?” Vik launched himself up from the floor. “Oh, thank God. Let’s go do something else. I’m so bored right now, I feel like I’m in Connecticut.”

  Wyatt leaped to her feet. “Vik, no! I thought you’d stopped using that.”

  “Why? It’s great. All I need is you in earshot and a word with negative connotation, and there, I’ve got a Connecticut joke.”

  She sputtered for a comeback, then threw a pillow at him. It bounced off his head, and he made a show of staggering back. “Ow, that hurts! It hurts like being in Connecticut!”

  Wyatt began chasing him in earnest, but Vik snatched a cushion from the couch and shielded himself with it. One thrust of the cushion nearly sent Wyatt sailing back to the ground. Yuri surged upright, and declared, “This will not end well for Vikram.”

  “VIK, RUN!” Tom bellowed.

  Yuri launched himself into the fray. Vik shrieked in fear and bolted into Alexander Division, the massive Russian boy barreling after him.

  Tom was doubled over laughing after the door slid shut behind them, and Wyatt muffled her giggles, too. Then she started smoothing her hair. Her gaze strayed over to him. He knew she was going to bring it up now. He knew it.

  “Are you okay?” she said. “You seemed weird and kind of strange earlier in the cell.”

  “Thanks, Wyatt.”

  “I don’t mean in a bad way.”

  “Just in a weird and strange way, huh? Well, I’m fine.” He tossed a chess piece into the box. “I’m A-OK.” He looked toward the door where Vik and Yuri had gone, half expecting them to pop back and hear this. When they didn’t, he said urgently, hoping to get this over with, “I was okay earlier, too. Ms. Ossare was overreacting, okay, and I didn’t wanna tell her I didn’t need her there or anything. I mean, you know how no one really goes to her. I think that gets to her, right? So, yeah, that’s what that was about. And, sure, maybe it was a bit unsettling, being back there, but that’s because I know Blackburn would tear my mind apart in a second if he could.”

  “He’d never choose to do that.” She frowned at him. “You’re being a bit paranoid.”

  “I’m not paranoid!” Tom burst out. “Blackburn’s paranoid. He’s the paranoid schizophrenic.”

  “Not anymore. He controls all the symptoms. If he’s paranoid, it’s his regular personality.”

  “I still think you shouldn’t have forgiven him for acting that way to you.” Tom clenched his fist around a chess piece. “I won’t forget what he did. Not ever. He would’ve done it, you know. He would’ve driven me insane. I would be crazy now, if it had been up to him.”

  “He had to. He thought you committed treason.”

  “He didn’t have to.” He opened his aching fist, and saw that the chess piece he’d been gripping had left red marks in his palm. “Just forget I said anything. You don’t wanna believe me, that’s up to you. Do me one favor.”

  He waited until she dragged her gaze back over to meet his.

  “Don’t ever talk about me around him, Wyatt. Not ever. If he asks you anything about me, don’t answer him. I don’t care how harmless the question seems. Don’t tell him anything.”

  Wyatt stared at him a long moment. Then: “It’s not exactly like we sit around talking about you all the time. Not everything’s about you.”

  “I know that.” And he did know it. Intellectually, at least. He knew he was all self-centered and arrogant here, but he couldn’t help thinking sometimes . . . well, ever since that first day he met Heather, really, that a great many things—perhaps a disproportionate number of things—tended to become about him. Maybe he was a bit paranoid.

  “Blackburn has never even brought you up to me,” she assured him. “Except once when we were joking about writing table etiquette subroutines, and of course, you came up. Oh, and when I told him a trainee had gotten banned from all the companies and he said, ‘Let me guess. Tom Raines.’ That was it.”

  Tom tossed in a last chess piece with a sigh, and changed the subject. “So, think Yuri’s murdered Vik yet?”

  She smiled wickedly. “No, I think he’s making him suffer.”

  And then the door to the plebe common room slid open. Tom’s gaze jolted up. It was Heather Akron.

  This was trouble. He’d given Wyatt away over the thought interface and Heather had threatened her.

  Heather’s smile grew voracious like a hungry predator’s at the sight of Wyatt. “Enslow!” she exclaimed, voice dripping with sweet poison. “How great to find you in here. I really want to talk with you.”

  Wyatt threw an uncertain glance toward the door to Alexander Division, where Yuri and Vik had gone. Heather slinked across the room to loom right in front of Wyatt. Her eyes raked her up and down, and she said, “I hear you’ve been spreading some nasty slander about me.”

  Tom kicked the chess box under the table and reared to his feet. “Heather, hold off. That stuff I was thinking—”

  “This isn’t your business right now, Tom,” Heather told him, never taking her sharp gaze from Wyatt’s. “Wyatt and I are chatting.”

  Wyatt raised her chin a bit. “No, I didn’t do that.”

  Heather cocked her head, propping her hands on her hips. “What’s that? Are you saying you didn’t spread slander about me?”

  Louder, Wyatt said, “No. I didn’t. After all, slander’s not true.”

  Heather drew a step closer to her. Seeing two girls in a passion of anger, ready to tangle, made Tom strangely exultant and filled him with excited anticipation, but he knew he had to step in. He shoved an arm in front of both of them.

  “Hey, cut this out, both of you—”

  “This isn’t about you, Tom!” Wyatt snapped this time.

  “Yes, mind your own business,” Heather hissed.

  Intimidated, Tom backed off.

  Heather’s amber eyes were glittering. “I’ve never really liked you, Enslow, but I haven’t had a problem with you. No reason to make your life miserable . . . until now. I really don’t appreciate being stabbed in the back, so I’m not going to do that to you.”

  “Why am I the lone exception?” Wyatt said blandly.

  “I’m here to warn you that you made the wrong enemy. You’re on my radar now, Enslow, and whatever you might think, I have a lot of influence in CamCo, more every single day. I can make sure you never become a Combatant. Not only that, but I will make your life seriously suck around here.”

  Wyatt’s face had gone very blank, her gaze stony. “Glad we had this talk,” Heather said, and whirled around, dark hair swishing as she pranced back toward the elevator.

  Tom needed to fix this. He started after Heather, not sure what he’d say but hopeful he could come up with something.

  Wyatt caught his arm before he reached Heather. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll talk to her for you.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s threatening you, I’ll threaten her. Somehow.” Tom shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “No,” Wyatt said, irritated. “I want to threaten my own enemies.”

  Tom looked her over and detected the same resolve in her face he’d only seen a few times—but he’d learned to fear it. “Okay. But threaten fast, she’s gonna be out of here, soon.”

  Wyatt turned to her forearm keyboard, quickly typing something in, launching a program. The elevator door slid open, but Heather jerked to a halt before she stepped through. For a moment, she stood there in the doorway, her back rigid, then she whirled around and blazed back over to them.

  “What did you do?” she demanded, getting back in Wyatt’s face.

  “Oops,”
Wyatt said, glancing at her keyboard. “Was that your firewall I knocked down? I think it was.”

  Heather gaped at her. It took her a moment to recover and shoot back, “No need to worry, I have a secondary firewall I can put in its place.”

  She jabbed at her forearm keyboard. Then, as Heather restored her firewall, a tiny smile crossed Wyatt’s lips, and her fingers danced over her forearm keyboard again—and executed another program.

  “Hey!” Heather cried, her palm flying up to her head, as though to shield her processor with her hand.

  “Whoops, did something disable your secondary firewall, too?” Wyatt said innocently. “I don’t know how that keeps happening.” She pressed a finger to her lips like she had to think about it a moment. “Oh, wait, I do. It’s me. I’m doing it.”

  Heather opened and closed her mouth, then sputtered, “Is there some convoluted little point you’re trying to make?”

  Wyatt shrugged. “Just that I can’t help noticing I can disable most any defense you erect around your processor, and it’s incredibly easy for me. I mean, that took me mere seconds, both times, and you probably worked on those firewalls for months. Now that I think about it, if you don’t have a firewall protecting your neural processor, I could probably do anything to you. With that consideration in mind, you’d be wise to write a stronger program to defend yourself before trying to ‘make my life seriously suck.’ At least, if you’re still stupid enough to try it.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Heather whispered.

  “No,” Wyatt said flatly. “I’m stating the obvious.”

  Heather hovered there, fists clenched, frustration on her face. Then she seemed to make a decision. She batted at Wyatt’s shoulder playfully. “Oh, come on, Enslow, you’re taking this way too seriously.”

  It was Wyatt’s turn to stare.

  “You know I was teasing you. It’s what CamCos do to Middles. Some friendly hazing. I know you were doing your job reporting me, and honestly, it was very dumb of me to get tricked by those reporters into running my mouth about the other CamCos in the first place. I still feel so foolish over it. Good for you, for catching it!”

  Wyatt opened and closed her mouth, utterly perplexed.

  “I have to go. You’re a rock star, girl!” Heather winked at her, then headed across the room and disappeared into the elevator.

  Wyatt burst out, “What happened? I don’t understand! We were having a standoff, then she acted like I was the one who started threatening stuff, like I was the one overreacting.” She turned to Tom urgently, her brows furrowed. “I wasn’t making a big deal out of nothing, was I?”

  “That was Heather saving face,” Tom explained. “You won, she lost, and she couldn’t admit it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He hoisted one of the fallen couch cushions and tossed it back into place, then slung the fallen pillow after it. “You can officially threaten your own enemies. Man, you kind of scare me right now.”

  “I do?” she said happily. “Oh, can you tell Vik that? Tell him I was menacing. And that I said I was coming for him next, just so he gets scared.”

  “I’ll even say you shook your fist as you said it,” Tom promised, which thrilled Wyatt no end.

  Then Vik and Yuri emerged from Alexander Division, both out of breath, Yuri’s wavy hair all askew like a big nest around his head, and Vik soaking wet like he’d been dunked in a pool.

  “Don’t ask,” Vik grumbled to Tom, slouching onto the couch, leaving giant, wet splotches on the old green fabric.

  Yuri gave a dazed smile as Wyatt walked over of her own initiative and awkwardly put her arms around him, like she wasn’t quite sure how the hugging thing worked. “Thank you for avenging my honor.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He kissed the top of her head, then explained, “I chased Vikram for many floors, and he used a computer virus on me, but then I used one on him, so we both agreed to remove the viruses, and I pursued him into the Calisthenics Arena. He activated an exercise simulation. I was forced to battle my way through a hundred Vietcong soldiers, but I imagined coming to you and telling you of my victory, and that inspired me to persevere. At last, I caught up to him hiding near a swamp. The result is before you.”

  Vik grumbled something. He’d been dunked in one of the shallow pools in the arena.

  “He has promised to never again make a Connecticut joke,” Yuri told her.

  Vik gave a weary nod. “I don’t have a relentless Russian android on my side, I’ve just got Tom.”

  “No, you don’t have Tom. I’m not taking on Yuri,” Tom protested.

  Yuri chuckled, slinging an arm around Wyatt. Vik shook his head, disgruntled.

  Tom found himself watching them, his friends, and for some reason the glow of the moment took on a dark tinge. There was no rational reason for it, and maybe it came from his deep suspicion that nothing good could really last—but he had this unsettling sense like this was his last glimpse of something priceless, cupped in his hand, just before it slipped from his grasp.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  WHEN BLACKBURN DEEMED them all competent with exosuits, he finished their training with the same celebratory climb he always led Middles on—straight up the Pentagonal Spire to the roof over the fifteenth floor.

  “No messing around, am I clear?” For some reason, he was staring directly at Tom and Vik, even though there were five other newly certified, exosuit-competent Middles. “You start screwing around up there, and you are walking back down the stairs. One of you goes splat, then someone gets stuck with a whole lot of paperwork. Know who that person will be? Me. That’s why you are going to suit up, pair up, and above all, be careful.”

  Tom and Vik stayed side by side, and Wyatt kept turning to people, who then paired with other people, and looking increasingly dejected over it. Blackburn produced a bunch of climbing harnesses and tossed one at each pair.

  “The idea here is that if one of you loses your grip—which you should not—the other one will still have it.” He tossed another harness, and paused by Tom and Vik. “Oh, no, no. You two are not going together.”

  “Huh?” Tom said.

  “Huh?” Vik said.

  “Ashwan, climb with Enslow.”

  Vik turned to Wyatt, eyebrows raised. “What do you know. We’re together. Now my life depends on you, and your life? It depends on me.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Wyatt began to look frightened.

  Tom automatically cast his gaze toward Kelcy Demos, hoping Blackburn would break up other pairs so he could claim the curly-haired girl as his partner. Then he felt something hook into the frame of his suit. He glanced back—and his stomach plummeted.

  “No way,” he protested. He did not want to be harnessed to Lieutenant Blackburn. “No. Sir, come on.”

  “This isn’t up for debate,” Blackburn told him, tugging on the harness connecting them to test its strength.

  “But I’m the best exosuiter here. I don’t need to get harnessed to the instructor.”

  “Your capability,” he said, speaking slowly as though fighting to remain patient, “is not what I question. Your judgment is.”

  “I have fantastic judgment.”

  “You have horrendous judgment. Of all the trainees here, you’re the likeliest to severely overestimate yourself and do something reckless and phenomenally stupid. That’s why you’re with me. You’ve proven yourself unable to realistically gauge your capabilities, so I have to gauge them for you. It’s that, or you don’t climb.”

  Tom bristled.

  “Well?”

  “Fine. Sir.”

  Getting harnessed to Blackburn for the climb killed it for him. They all donned optical camouflage, attaching the fiber-optic material to specific hooks in their exosuits, and hid themselves from the view of any civilians gazing toward the Pentagonal Spire. They also used the iron-shaped centrifugal clamps to hoist themselves up the side of the building.

  The cold wind couldn’t penetrate the
optical camouflage, and the exosuit replaced the need for actual exertion, so Tom found himself bored for most of the climb—especially with his pace hobbled by Blackburn, who insisted on staying below the slowest pair of trainees, Jennifer and Mervyn, to keep an eye on them.

  Tom knew the minute Wyatt and Vik reached the top, because they net-sent a triumphant VICTORY! to his vision center.

  Disgruntled, Tom tore off the climbing harness as soon as he alighted on the top of the Spire with Blackburn. He looked around for the telltale ripple of air that indicated someone in an exosuit was moving in the area, and his eyes even traced the outline of separate forms. He clanged his way toward the forms his neural processor identified as Vik and Wyatt, who were on the other side of the massive transmission pole that jutted up from the roof and pierced the clouds above them. He craned his head, squinting up into the sky to see it. The entire building was a transmitter, and this was the very tip.

  “How was the climb?” Vik’s voice drifted to him from the rippling air where their hidden forms lurked. “Enslow and I actually made great time. I think I was being too enticing for her to handle.” He jumped when the shimmering outline of an arm aimed a blow at him. “No good-natured punching with superhuman strength!”

  “Oh. Right,” Wyatt remembered.

  Tom didn’t share Vik’s good mood. “Blackburn kept jerking me to a stop because I was climbing too fast for him. Like a dog or something. I’m telling you, man, it’s like having a leash.”

  Wyatt went to talk to Blackburn, leaving Tom and Vik to gaze upward, the very tip of the transmitter disappearing into the bright sky.

  “You know, climbing the building was one thing,” Vik said, “but climbing this? That’s the real climb.”

  Tom’s heart picked up a beat as he contemplated it. It would be a marvelous feat. “I bet I could do it.”

  Vik laughed. “No way.”

  Tom’s neural processor rapidly flitted over the schematics in his head, calculating the point where it was simply too narrow to climb farther. “Fifty bucks says I can get within ten meters of the top.”

  “You’re on, Doctor,” Vik said, and they tried to shake hands, but Vik’s exosuited hand just clanged against Tom’s wrist.