Evolution (18 page)

“Of course,” I say.

I could never forget those precious moments when we were away from the officials and cam-bots. When it was just the two of us with our fingers intertwined, Logan and me and the stars shining through the acid shield. The world still seemed big, but it didn't seem so scary.

“I used to think about kissing you, then,” Logan says, finding my hand under the sheets. “
Especially
then, I should say.”

I laugh softly. “Really?”

He nods.

“When did you know?” I ask. “That you … wanted to kiss me.”

“I think it was a year or two after I found you in that garbage bin,” he says.

The day he and I first met, I'd been shoved into a Dumpster by some bullies from school. Boys who couldn't handle that I was better than them in every subject.

“So, when I was seven and you were eight?” I ask.

“Sounds about right.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yet you waited until I was sixteen?”

“I wasn't sure if you … wanted me to kiss you,” Logan says. “You were my best friend. I didn't want to lose you over something stupid like that.”

I grab the collar of his shirt to pull him closer to me. “It wasn't stupid. For the record, I would've kissed you back.”

And with the stars surrounding us, that's what I do.

 

18

The next morning, I wake to warm sheets and Logan's arms wrapped around me. The starscape is still on; a galaxy drifts above us. I was going to turn it off before I fell asleep, but I must've knocked out too soon.

A wave of worry washes over me as I remember this is the second day of the Mardenite invasion. The dispatched troops must've reached the Surface city by now. I check my comm-band for messages, but there's nothing except for the standard daily schedule of mealtimes in the cafeteria.

I can only assume that means nothing terrible has happened to the soldiers yet. Things are going according to plan. I hope.

Logan wakes a few minutes after me. I kiss the sleepiness from his eyes, and he mumbles, “You're still here.”

I laugh softly. “I am.”

“I'm glad.” He squeezes me in a tight hug. “I was afraid you'd run off again.”

He's referring to the last time we spent the night together in the Alliance compound. The night before our group left to invade the lower sectors. I was too anxious to sleep, so I left Logan hours before he woke up. He wasn't happy to find me gone in the morning, especially when he heard I'd been making plans with Beechy that would put me in danger of being captured.

“Didn't run, and I promise I won't,” I say. “What do you want to do today?”

If any strategy meetings come up, I'll have to attend them. But in the meantime it seems best that I find something to distract myself with while I wait for news of the war happenings on the Surface. And Logan hasn't had a chance to see much of the Core yet. He's been stuck in a cell since we got here.

“I wouldn't mind exploring a bit,” Logan says. “Seeing what everyone thinks is so great about this sector compared to the others.”

“Do you feel well enough to walk around?” I ask.

To prove it, Logan rolls out of bed, grabs his crutches, and takes off around the room.

I laugh. “Good. Let's hurry to the cafeteria so we won't miss breakfast.”

We get dressed and head for an elevator that will take us to the upper levels of the Core. I'm surprised Commander Charlie hasn't sent a guard to escort us everywhere. But then, Logan has to use crutches to walk and I have fractured ribs still healing. We aren't exactly huge threats to the infrastructure of his society at the moment. And he knows I understand there's no use trying to overthrow him until Marden's army has been defeated.

*   *   *

The cafeteria is crowded with people. We take our trays from the ordering machines and sit down at one of the long tables. There are rows and rows of them, filling the oval shape of the room. On the domed ceiling overhead, there's a projection of the Core flag: a rectangle filled with blue-and-black stripes, and a silver circle at its center with words running along its bottom:
Invention. Peace. Prosperity.

“
How
is this so good?” Logan says with a bite of a cheesy raerburger in his mouth. “It's even better than the food at the Alliance compound. And that was a hundred times better than camp grub.”

I laugh. “I mean, they starved us in the camp, so I'm pretty sure anything is better than that.”

“True.” Logan wipes away the cheese dribbling down his chin with a napkin. “Still, I thought people might be exaggerating how good the food is here. I'm glad I was wrong.”

When Logan and I were growing up in the work camp, all we heard from our teachers and guards were all the amazing things people had access to in the Core. It was described as a place of freedom and fun and extravagance, where the citizens had no fear of an early death. Those of us in the camps who performed well on our Extraction tests and were lucky enough to be transferred to the Core would be able to live with the same freedom.

But the reality is the only people with true freedom here are the Developers and their fiercest proponents. The people who display so much loyalty to the Developers' policies, they earn a pass on their monthly injections. Mostly colonels and lieutenants, from what I've seen. Military men who also hunger for power and violence. The only people who thrive in the system are the ones who adore it.

I swallow my bite of bansa stew. “The best place in the Core is Recreation Division. We can go there after this, if you want. I can show you the zero-gravity machine and the race pods. That's where we used to spend most of my time, when we weren't in training sessions.”

“Who's ‘we'?” Logan asks.

“Me, Ariadne, and Oliver,” I say. My throat sticks on Oliver's name. “The friends I made during Extraction training.”

Logan touches my knee under the table. There's anxiousness in his eyes. “Sorry, I didn't mean to bring him up.”

“It's fine,” I say.

Oliver has been gone a few weeks now. I still miss him, but thinking about him doesn't hurt the way it used to. It's not an overwhelming pain; it's just a slight ache in my chest.

There's a loud bout of obnoxious laughter from the young kids sitting at the table next to ours. Logan studies them, his expression turning serious, as he picks up his canteen.

“They don't know what's happening on the Surface, do they?” he asks.

All the people in the cafeteria seem too chipper and peaceful for a group of citizens whose planet is under invasion.

“No, they don't,” I say. “The Developers think they'll be happier this way. And all they care about is keeping the public happy, you know.” I roll my eyes.

“We could tell the people anyway,” Logan says, setting his drink down. “We could stand up right now on one of the tables and shout out the truth before anyone could stop us.”

“And then Commander Charlie would lock us up again.”

“Maybe so. But at least we'd have done something to turn the people against them.”

As I look around at the citizens at the other tables, I shake my head. It's no use; even Ariadne wouldn't listen to me. “They wouldn't believe us, not when they're all subdued. They aren't thinking for themselves. The Developers are thinking for them.”

“You don't know that for sure,” Logan says.

“You've never been subdued. You don't know what it's like.” My voice cracks at the memory of the horrible feeling of suffocation, of being imprisoned in my own body with someone else pulling the strings. “Even if some part of them understood what was going on and wanted to rebel, most of them wouldn't be able to fight the serum.”

“Well, maybe some of them are like you.” A smile tugs at the edge of Logan's mouth. “You broke free, right? Why not others?”

I frown, considering. He's right; some of the people in this room must be like me. Citizens with genetic modifications similar to mine, who are secretly Unstable. Boys and girls who've figured out something's going on, but they don't know who to go to for help. Maybe there are even Alliance rebels here in the cafeteria, still in hiding.

“There are probably some,” I say. “But not enough to make a big difference. Not enough to be worth the risk.”

Most of them can't be like me, or they wouldn't be in the Core at all. Most of them are like Oliver or Ariadne—they'd need help from another injection to snap them out of their submission. It would take a thousand energy injections to make all of these people mindful again.

And even then, what would they do? They'd probably be lost and confused, not used to making decisions for themselves. It would take another leader to turn them against the Developers. Someone who could inspire people to follow him, but wouldn't abuse his power or try to control anyone. He'd let the people make the decision to fight or not fight, whichever they wanted.

Beechy, if he were here, could've been that kind of leader. But he isn't. I don't know if there's anyone else. I certainly don't think I could do it. My failed attempt to inspire rebellion in the Crust work camp proved that much.

“So you're saying you want to do nothing?” Logan asks.

“No. I'm saying if we're going to try to turn the people against the Developers, we need to be better prepared for it. We need more people on our side than the two of us.”

“Who's going to help us?” Logan stabs his fork into his food. “Everyone who would is locked up somewhere, or still in hiding. We have no way to talk to them.”

I sigh. “I don't know. But there has to be someone.”

We can't be the only two people in the Core who want the Developers out of power. We just have to find the others without drawing attention to ourselves.

*   *   *

Logan and I are on our way to Recreation Division when my comm-band starts beeping. I quickly check the screen.

“What is it?” Logan asks.

“An urgent meeting,” I say. “I'm sorry. I have to go.”

“Does it say what the meeting's for?”

I shake my head. “Something must be going on with the troops on the Surface. Do you need me to take you back to the room?”

“No, I want to keep looking around.” He kisses me on the cheek. “Be careful, okay? Let me know what happens.”

“I'll come find you afterward. Where should we meet?”

“I'll wait for you in Recreation Division.”

“Okay. See you in a little while.” I drop Logan's hand and hurry to find an elevator.

Inside, I tap the button on the two-dimensional map of the Core for the main entrance to Restricted Division. My comm-band tells me the floor and room number for the meeting, but it's not accessible from this elevator. Security protocol and all that.

The elevator
whoosh
es across a horizontal shaft, then switches to a vertical shaft to take me down. I'm almost to the proper floor when it comes to an early stop at one of the floors for the health ward.

The door opens, and a man in a gray uniform walks inside. I'm surprised to see it's Lieutenant Dean, also in a hurry. But he stops abruptly when he sees me.

“Clementine,” he says. “You're headed to the meeting?”

I nod. “Any idea what it's about?”

He shakes his head, closing the elevator door behind him. “I just got the message, same as you.”

He looks a lot better than he did when I saw him last night, when he was still sick from the poison gas. There are dark circles under his eyes, but the fever sweat and the flush in his cheeks are gone. The antidote Dr. Jeb gave him seems to have completely cured him.

As the elevator continues going down, I ask, “What were you doing in the health ward?”

“Visiting Lieutenant Sam.”

I bite my lip. I'd practically forgotten him in the chaos of everything. “How's he doing?”

“He's recovering at a very slow rate,” Dean says. “He's starting to respond to his name, but he's still not making much sense.”

“Have you…?” I hesitate.

“Have I told anyone you were involved in the situation?” he finishes for me. “No, I haven't. I've told the commanders that the lieutenant became hostile and unfit for command on our mission, due to his inexperience in war situations and his fear of the Mardenites. I had to subdue him in order to save the mission. And the combination of the strong dosage of serum along with the poison gas made him have an averse reaction.”

It's not so very far off from the truth. It certainly sounds believable.

“They didn't punish you, did they?”

“No, they agreed with my judgment call,” Dean says stiffly. “It would take a lot for them to punish me after everything I've done for them.”

The elevator comes to a stop with a
ding
.

“Restricted Division,” a cool female voice says.

As the doors open, I remember: Dean brought me back to the Core for the Developers. He saved me for them, supposedly without knowing why they needed me kept alive. But after his reaction to my aversion to the poison gas, I don't think he was entirely honest with me.

I clench my hands into fists at my sides, but follow Dean out of the elevator. I wait until we've passed the first security checkpoint and entered an empty corridor before I speak. “You knew, didn't you? About the Mod Project. You knew I was their most promising test subject.”

Dean nods, tight-lipped. “The Mod Project isn't a secret among people who are close to the commanders.”

“Why couldn't you have just told me? You didn't have to lie to me.”

“I had no idea how you would react,” he says. “It was already difficult enough to get you to trust me. Anyway, there was no time to explain everything.”