Hex (14 page)

The Seccies had told her to get dressed quickly and one of them, a woman, had stayed with her while she did so. Once she was dressed the woman took her back into the main room, where one of the other Seccies was examining the computer terminals. Another immediately sealed the door of her room and attached an SS classification to it. It was only then that Bob had begun to recover his composure.

“What is this?” he demanded. “What's going to happen to my daughter?”

“Your daughter is a suspected Hex, Mr. Tarrell,” one of the officers said emotionlessly. “She will be taken for evaluation and when the mutation is confirmed, she will be disposed of.” Ali felt a hysterical laugh building inside her as the man used the same term that Wraith had criticized her for using. She clamped down hard on it, holding her mouth tight shut.

“And what if she isn't a Hex?” her father was saying.

“If that is the case she will be returned to you before the end of the day,” the man told him. “But it is rarely the case that a person is suspected incorrectly. Extermination is scheduled for this evening.”

Her father had looked so stunned that Ali had wanted to tell him what Wraith and Raven had found out about the laboratory, that there was a good chance she would be taken there. But she knew that telling him that would mean she would be exterminated for certain and kept silent. She felt dazed as two Seccies took her out of the apartment, barely hearing her father's protests. The men had bundled her into the flitter, handing her over to two CPS operatives who had checked her for concealed weapons before locking her into the restraints. Ali had felt horribly conscious of the transceiver ear-stud, which she hadn't removed the night before. But the CPS people didn't even seem to notice it. As the flitter took off, Ali prayed that Raven was tracking her. Despite the fact that it was Wraith she trusted and Wraith who was the leader of the group, it was Raven who held her life in her hands.

Ali thought of Raven with all her might as the flitter sped on. She remembered what the girl had told her in the hotel: “Concentrate on the fact that I'm going to be saving your life.” She had meant it as a warning, Ali was certain, to prevent any more criticism of her motives. But now Ali recalled it as a promise. The CPS had no idea of how far Raven's powers extended. They didn't even know she existed. And for whatever reasons, whether to save Rachel or satisfy a morbid curiosity, Raven would be watching out for her. It was the only hope Ali had and she clung to it.

The room Ali had been
left in was plain and windowless, and something like a private room at a hospital. There was a single bed and some equipment to monitor life-signs and brainwaves, standing near it. But it contained no computer equipment. There was also a small metal table and a single chair, both bolted to the floor. Apart from that the room was empty. Lying on the bed were the white coveralls Ali had been told to put on, made of a thin material. But somehow her own clothes seemed like her last link with home and she made no move to change, sitting hunched against the wall.

There was no lock on the door and it had a large pane of shatterproof glass set into it, as if to emphasize the complete lack of privacy. Under the circumstances Ali had made no move to close the door, which the CPS operatives had left open—it would have been a pointless exercise. So she was surprised when she heard a quiet knock, although she didn't move from her position against the wall. There was a pause, and then she heard the door swing further open as someone entered the room.

“Are you OK?” a voice asked.

Ali looked up then, if only to tell the speaker exactly what she thought of such an utterly stupid and pointless question. But she was arrested by the sight that awaited her. It was a boy, perhaps about her age, but she found it hard to tell for certain. He was painfully thin, almost emaciated, and his white coveralls hung off his scarecrow figure like rags. The sleeves of the coveralls were short enough for Ali to see the yellow bruises that covered his arms, like those of a drug user. He saw her looking and his mouth pulled into a travesty of a smile.

“My name's Luciel,” he told her. “They're testing to see if drugs break my connection with electronics. I guess they haven't found the right formula yet.”

“I'm Ali,” she said, standing up awkwardly, and glancing at the open door. “Are we allowed to talk?”

“We pretty much do what we want to,” the boy said. “Unless someone's door is guarded. That means they're doing experiments.”

“Who exactly are
they
?” Ali asked, although she could already guess the answer.

“The scientists,” Luciel replied uneasily.

“Is one of them called Dr. Kalden?”

“Shhh,” Luciel warned, suddenly alarmed. “We don't talk about them, and especially not about
him.
” He tried to smile again. “I came to see you because I knew you'd be scared, everyone is. But it helps that we're allowed to talk to each other.”

“Yes, it does,” Ali admitted. She hesitated. “Can I ask you another question?”

“OK,” Luciel replied slowly.

“Is there a girl called Rachel here?” Ali asked. “She's a . . . a friend of mine. About eleven years old, brown hair, brown eyes . . .”

“I'm sorry.” Luciel shook his head. “I can't think of anyone like that.” Ali's heart sank; everything felt cut from under her. But then Luciel added, “But there are a lot of people here and I don't know them all. Your friend could still be here.”

•  •  •

Despite Luciel's claim that they were allowed to go anywhere they wanted, the boy seemed unwilling to venture out into the rest of the laboratory, although he did his best to make Ali feel resigned to her new situation. He was very different from Raven. Not only did he lack her magnetism and self-confidence, he was generally much more uncertain about himself and his own abilities. After the contempt Raven had shown toward Ali's two ventures into the net she had thought herself a novice. But, according to Luciel, no one in the facility had much more experience than that either.

However, Ali did not describe Raven to him as an example. She steered clear of the entire subject of the gangers. After all, she didn't know who could be trusted in this place and, even more, she was beginning to feel guilty about the whole situation. She had been thinking of her venture into the lab almost as a game, but people here were being experimented on, in ways that she could only guess at. Anything she imagined could only be guesswork, as Luciel was unwilling to tell her anything about the experimentation.

“It's better not to know,” he said when she demanded he enlighten her further.

“How can I not know?” she asked. “They're going to be experimenting on me, aren't they?”

“But not for a while,” Luciel replied uncomfortably. “First they run a whole lot of tests, to try to find out your capabilities, stuff like that. It's only when they've found out as much as they can that the scientists really start experimenting.”

“Do they always do . . . what they've done to you?” Ali found it difficult to look at Luciel's bruised arms.

“No . . . ,” he said reluctantly. “They do different things to different people. You'll see when you meet the others.”

“OK, then.” Ali made a motion as if to leave the room, but Luciel shook his head.

“You can't yet,” he told her. “Not until they've examined you.”

“Is that a rule?” Ali asked.

“No, it's . . . it's . . . it's just the way things are.” Luciel shrugged his thin shoulders. “They'll probably be here soon,” he said. “I'd better go. Good luck, Ali.” He paused just before leaving the room. “You'd better put the coveralls on,” he told her, “just so as not to annoy them.”

Ali changed into the white coveralls. It wasn't so much Luciel's words that had affected her as the haunted look in his eyes. She wondered miserably what she had got herself into and, sitting slumped on the bed, felt bitterly angry with the gangers who had got her into all this.

“I wish I'd never met that
bitch
!” she said under her breath and gave a convulsive start when a voice in her ears answered:

“Do you mean me?”

“Raven!” Ali exclaimed. “You can hear me?”

“That
is
what this device is for,”
Raven reminded her, the Hex's voice reverberating in Ali's ears.
“According to the transmitter, you are alone and there are no monitoring devices in the room.”

“Did you hear my conversation with Luciel?” Ali asked.

“The transmitter can pick up any sounds within a ten-meter radius.”

“Then you heard what he said about Rachel,” Ali said, “that she might not be here.”

“I'm not an idiot,”
Raven said caustically.
“I have always been aware of the possibility that Rachel is already dead. But you'll have to meet the other people being held to find out for sure.”
There was a short silence, and Ali wondered if Raven had signed off before she heard the girl's voice again.
“Are you OK?”

“I can't believe you'd be concerned,” Ali told her. There was a longer silence. This time Ali knew Raven was still there and she waited for the reply, wondering what the girl would come out with this time. But Raven's answer, when it finally came, surprised her.
“I don't like the sound of that lab,”
she said.
“I wouldn't like to be in your place.”

“I'm afraid,” Ali admitted, disarmed by Raven's unexpected empathy.

“I'll be in constant contact,”
Raven told her, adding ironically,
“I don't know if you'll find that a comfort.”

“If something happens . . . if they start experimenting on me,” Ali asked quietly, “will you get me out of here?” She dreaded the answer, wondered if she had asked too much too soon. Raven didn't have her brother's moral code, and even if the loyalty of the group lay with him, she held the sum of the power. It was Raven's support she needed. She didn't expect the younger girl to react with sympathy—that would have been too much to ask. But Raven hadn't exaggerated when she said she didn't like the sound of the lab.

“I'll tell Wraith we should get into position,”
she said eventually.
“Just in case.”

•  •  •

Kez glanced up in surprise as Raven disengaged herself from the terminal. She had been speaking softly into its audio pickup, too quietly for him to overhear. But now she got up from her chair and stretched her aching muscles. She was still wearing the baggy gray sweater, sweatpants, and thick socks she had slept in; the blanket lay discarded on the floor beside the computer terminal. Kez had left his silent vigil to get dressed, but Raven had been glued to the terminal for the past three hours and had looked up only once to tell him that Ali had arrived at the lab.

Now she stretched her legs to get some feeling back into them, flexing her fingers experimentally.

“Is Wraith back yet?” she asked.

“He came back about an hour ago,” Kez told her, easily able to believe that her intense concentration had blocked out her brother's presence. It wasn't as if Wraith had said anything to either of them. “But he went out again, almost right away.”

“I see,” Raven said and stretched again. “God, I really need a shower.”

“Wraith didn't want you to leave the terminal,” Kez cautioned her.

“I'm still in contact,” Raven told him. “It's harder without the net to rely on, but it can be done.” She rubbed her shoulders, wincing a little. “I feel awful,” she complained, and glanced back at Kez, “and you look worse.”

“Wraith's really angry,” he said, looking down at the ground.

“He'll get over it—relax,” Raven advised. “I've spoken to Ali,” she added.

“Is she OK?” Kez asked guiltily.

“She seems to be.” Raven wrinkled her nose. “But she wants to be sure that we can break her out if we need to. We'd better get moving. When Wraith gets back tell him to get ready to leave. I'll call the Countess and make sure our transport's ready.”

“Why can't
you
tell Wraith?” Kez protested, wary of speaking to the ganger in his current mood.

“Because I'm going to take a shower,” Raven said definitively and left the room.

•  •  •

The scientists came not long after Ali had spoken to Raven. The two Hexes hadn't had much to say to each other, their brief rapport had been too tenuous for that. But Ali did find it comforting to think that Raven was monitoring her over the transceiver link, even though that didn't help much when she was confronted with the reality of the scientists.

In actual fact the examination wasn't that different from the check-ups her doctor gave her, although it was a little more extensive. She was examined by a woman scientist in a spotless white lab coat wearing a face mask and thin transparent gloves over her hands, while another woman took down details on paper. Obviously the CPS weren't risking the chance of a Hex getting linked up to a computer. Two regular CPS operatives, without lab coats, stood guard outside the door while Ali was examined. It took over an hour for the scientists to get all the results they needed, linking Ali up to most of the scanners in the room to perform some of the more complex tests.

Finally the woman who had been running tests on Ali stepped back and went to look at her companion's clipboard.

“That's the lot, isn't it?” she said, in an undertone.

“Everything,” the second scientist replied. “I'd better take these results to be processed. Once we have the confirmation of the genetic scan, we can send out the notification of death to the family.”