Rebels (22 page)

Assassinate
and
Kane
. Those words don't go together.

“He's the perfect choice, really,” she says, regaining her crustiness. “They had him on the construction rigs with proper air rights authority doing surveillance. He was monitoring this island for weeks. I have enough clearance to get his memory, obviously, or I wouldn't be here. Saw you two planning this meeting. Saw a great deal of you both, in fact.” She looks disgusted. “Cute moment with the boosters,” she adds.

She just can't help herself, even now.

“In terms of strategy, I understand why they chose Kane. Especially considering his talents. Who else could fit in on a rig? One step from mudpeople, those rig workers. Could tell a nonbuilder on sight. And Kane has the uncanny ability to keep from ruffling feathers. Even those of a rigger.”

The riggers truly are the last of the air outlaws. How the IHC has allowed them to coexist with their society is an unimaginable feat. From what I've heard, they're practically scavs. Except they maintain the functionality of all the Islands and do all the jobs that the rest of proper society finds beneath them. Kane can be slick, but entrenched with a bunch of pseudo-scavs? It's almost too much. Yet to Cassina, it just is. You're either air, or you're not.

For the first time, I see her as the IHC higher-ups must. Sure of herself. Someone able to assert authority. The kind of person you trust to make things happen.

I don't trust her one bit, of course. But right now, she's all I have. The only way to get to Kane.

“They probably put Kane on a rig near her island. I don't know for sure. They were careful to block those areas of his memory. Seems logical, though. That way he could observe her, get to know her habits. Then attend her ball.”

“Emergence Ball,” I say. “Kane told me about them.”

“All the island girls have one.” She sighs. “Except me, of course. I was already at the Academy. But Kane knows how they go. He's from the air as well. You see? He was the perfect choice.”

“Where is she—
Livia
—now?”

“They have her quarantined on Helix. No one knew about Kane's assignment, after all. A great many of Indra's Most Importance were there that evening and I'm sure the gossip is flying. Everyone discussing her attack by an uninvited guest, contemplating the threat to all the Islands. They have to put up a show of protecting her safety.”

Her
safety. It's so messed up I almost laugh.

“They'll keep her there for a while, I suppose. Make a big deal of investigating the incident.”

“What else do you know about her?”

“Livia? I told you already. There's not much to know. Upper born and raised. She sticks to herself. Reclusive. She was never like the rest of us. I mean, what do you expect? After all, she's just—”

“What?”

“I don't know much else,” she says.

“Just shut up then,” I say. “And let me think.”

Cassina goes silent. I pace the Archive room. There isn't time to weigh the options. Not that there are any.

I'll go after that girl. She'll lead me to Kane. There's no other way.

When I don't report for Rock Bottom Patrol, they'll come after me. They'll put me in confinement, maybe worse. But that's a risk I'm willing to take. A placement doesn't matter much, not compared to this.

Kane needs me
, I tell myself.

And this is what I need: to find Livia Cosmo. Make that conniving airgirl suffer.

“How will I get to her?” I ask Cassina.

“I have a plan,” she says. “Why else would I be here?”

I found the uniform right where Cassina told me, folded neatly on the floor of Kane's studio.
How did she know about the Center of Creation?

Of course. She saw it in Kane's memory. The idea of her watching and seeing us made me feel naked.

Did she see the kiss, too?

I pushed the thought aside and slipped on my new identity.

Moments later, I was in the PCF carrier she'd arranged to pick me up at the edge of the Academy gates. It hadn't been easy getting there unseen, but Kane and I had found all the dark places long ago, the forgotten hallways and hidden corners. I only had to remember them.

I slipped into the abandoned carrier. Held my breath, put my thumb to the printscan. The Academy gates swung open and we rumbled forward.

The synth-print worked, just like she'd said. She said she had it made in the High Council labs, by a friend there who could be trusted. A duplicate of her very own thumbprint. “With my high-level position, you should have no problem with access. The print is
infused with a liquid reserve of my DNA, but at some point, it will run out. So move quickly.”

Cassina might be a cold, heartless airgirl, but she was good with details. I'd give her that.

The more ground I put between me and the Academy, the more I realize I've been here before. Or maybe just a place like it. I remember seeing the patrol towers after leaving the Orphanage. The armed soldiers safeguarding the darkness, me trapped inside the transporter with Recruiter, on my way to my new life.

I'd been burning with questions then. Now I'm possessed with a different type of fire.

Everything is the same here, only smaller. Everything is the same. Except for me.

I park the carrier and board the train at the nearest commuter station, amidst the Hubbers headed home after a night's work. A few PCF are scattered throughout my compartment. I keep waiting to be noticed. For a voice to tell me I don't belong.

The voice doesn't come. All it takes is a uniform and I can be like everyone else. If that's the secret to life, I should just give up now.

The doors slide shut and the hiss of pressure sealing them gets my attention. The transporter gains full velocity quickly, but my heart gets there quicker.

We shoot into oblivion. There's nothing out there for miles and miles. Then, there is the Hub.

I'd always imagined the Hub as enormous. I was wrong.
Enormous
isn't a big enough word.

I look up. Somewhere above me, this endless cavern actually ends, where the Lower Levels become the Upper.
I'll believe it when I see it
, I think. Then I remember how soon that will be.

There are so many layers of strata, so much rock and iron. Someone thought this up. Someone planned this. My own life is so small compared to this.

There are a lot of loose ends that don't add up. Cassina's father, the sudden arrival of PCF to beat down Kane. Orders from someone who knew where to assassinate Livia Cosmo, and just why did Kane agree to it? But I push those out of my head.

Right now, I have one clear mission. Make that two: find Kane and demolish Livia Cosmo.

I've seen the Hub only in holo-images, but there's no time for sightseeing. Not that you can ignore the place. How they managed to hollow out this much of the earth is astonishing. The Orphanage wasn't big on science facts and the Academy only built soldiers, but they say over a million people travel through the Hub daily, primarily via tube transporters. There's a steady stream of roaring transporters of all sizes, the traffic directed by a complex system of flashing lights, monitors, and security borders. Once you step into the Hub, your audiofeed, if you're wearing one—and it looks like everyone is—is co-opted to constantly update you with traffic announcements and scheduling advisements. We were never allowed audiofeeds at the Orphanage and only for simulated missions at the Academy, which I prefer. I have too much already going on in my head. Plus this tremendous cavern is a wall of light and sound. You'd think it would be easy to just be a face in the crowd, but I'm sure security cameras are concealed everywhere.

Everyone races to their destinations. I've never seen so many bodies. A continuous swarm of gray and blue uniforms that moves at the same pace, that maneuvers with military-like precision. I welcome the anonymity that joining them grants.

For a second, I imagine Kane's
Book of Indra
, with its jolt of whirling colors.

I feel like I haven't seen color since I've seen him.

I think of Kane painting my laugh.

I think mostly of Kane's lifeless body.

◊  ◊  ◊

I hop a Hub transporter for a transfer transporter before most of Indra is awake, and move on from that to a tunnel transporter. Seems like Hubbers spend half their time getting somewhere and the other half getting back.

At every interval, I hold my breath, worried the DNA reserve on Cassina's synth-print will run out. Each time, the entrance whooshes open.

But will I ever actually
get
anywhere?

Maybe the Upper Levels are a myth. A mass illusion. That would be a cruel trick.

I stare out the window, watching all this newness pass me by. Maybe I'm not going anywhere at all.

The shuttle jolts forward. We stop. More people get on. We stop. People get off. “
Sector Geode
,” says the mechanical speakerfeed.

Sector Magna. Sector Limestone. Sector Granite.

“
Sector Obsidian
,” the speakerfeed finally announces.
“Final stop. All passengers must disembark.”

◊  ◊  ◊

The tunnel is just how Cassina described. Hardly big enough for one person. If I extend my arms, I can touch the sides. Rock and sediment encircle me, the hollowed-out path continuing in front of me.

“Only a few people have access,” Cassina told me. “I've checked the schedules and they will be otherwise engaged. That passage is only for others like me, those serving in—”

“High-level positions,” I interrupted. “I get it. You're important.”

Important, but entirely correct about its emptiness.

“You will think it never ending,” said Cassina. “But then it will.”

I almost smack into the transparent plexi-clear wall.
Thanks for mentioning that.

It requires my thumbprint. The locking seal lets loose a pressurized burst as the entrance slides open.

The PCF patroller is waiting, as planned.

“Will you know how to fly it?” Cassina asked me.

I answered that one with just a look. If I know one thing, it's how to work a machine. My apprenticeship so far has allowed me access to sim lessons on all SpecOps transporters.

I tug the door open. The hatch releases like an exhale and I pull myself up into the cabin and latch the side closed. I strap myself into the shiny black seat and pop on the pilot's helmet. Then one more use of the thumbprint.

This is how I felt the first time on my air speeder. I had her roaring while the other cadets were still snapping on their riding gear.

The controls aren't too dissimilar, just more . . . complex. A lot more. You don't need flight training if you're assigned to Rock Bottom. Good thing I put in some extra work. I've always set my sights a little higher.

I prime the ignition and the twin engines wake up, one at a time. The power that hums through it also hums through me. I'm careful not to get carried away. This sucker does vertical takeoff and landing. I keep an eye on the gyroscope to make sure the weight is evenly distributed.

I program the coordinates. It charts the flight path to Helix Island.

The enormous ceiling panels above slide open and red lights begin to flash.

I look up. There it is.

Sky.

◊  ◊  ◊

No booster could ever give you a rush like this.

I lift my visor, just for a second, and it's like my eyeballs catch fire. Real light, bursting off the sides of real buildings as I rise into the open air.

The City of Indra. The tower of the Independent High Council at its center, rising above it all. There are spires equally as beautiful.
This is the world I have always lived under
, I think. Now I can really see it.

No holo-image could prepare me for this. The world's a much bigger place than I could ever have imagined.

I glide the craft forward and up. I control her just like my speeder. I could get used to this. Upping the speed and engaging the turbo gear, I might as well abuse my privileges as much as the rest of the PCF do. I overtake the transporters in my path and cut through a corridor of airscrapers and skytowers. I could get used to this, if I was willing to be corrupt.

I round a corner and accelerate straight for a massive floating rig. I swoop beneath its shadowy mechanical underbelly. The maze of tubing and gears sways, the whole thing threatening to topple at any moment.

A swift upward boost and I merge with the sunlight. Ahead there's a new building under construction. I plunge headfirst, coasting through support frames, and shoot out the other side.

The rig's assignment, I figure. Luckily they haven't finished construction or my shortcut would've turned into a dead end.

I'm higher now, closer to the top of the dome that encases the city. Below me, the City of Indra spreads out like a holomap.

“I grew up in the air,” Kane once said. “It's not really that great, not really.”

I guess it's time to see for myself.

I point the nose of the patroller upward, check the coordinates, and pull the accelerator back as far as it goes.

My ears pop and I head above everything.

From my isolated summit, I watch the world keep going without me. Every transporter that passes, the very few that are allowed in our airspace, is one that passes me by and leaves me stranded here.

In the main quarters, Marius takes tea in the parlor with an Indrithian of Importance, maids posted at corners on high alert to refill saucers and replenish trays of sweet cakes. While the visitor sips, Marius speaks to my outstanding qualities, the likes of which I cannot imagine ever existed.