SLAM (5 page)

“Buh …?” She blinks at him, confused, and he
smirks, hauling her to her feet as easily as if she were a wet
kitten. She manages not to cry out in pain.

“You pass. You’re through.” He can’t hide his
pleasure at his own words, blue eyes sparkling as he steadies her
and pins the ARC operative’s badge onto her collar – a silver curve
that widens at one end, like the trail of a shooting
star.

An undignified squeak slips out, and she
swallows. “But I got shot! I’m dead!” She tries to bat the hand
away, convinced he’s missed her final failure, unwilling to take
the pin that represents her life’s work, only to have it taken away
when he sees the footage replayed. He must not have seen it
somehow.

But he rolls his eyes at her,
stilling her hands with his telekinesis while he finishes attaching
the badge. “Tech marks you as through the gate when the shot was
fired. Bad shoot. Operative Anderson wasn’t fast enough. Game over.
You win.” His
demeanour
remains professional,
but she can read him too, and his eyes are dancing with
happiness.

Abial ... That last shot had been
from Abial, but it hadn’t counted.
Bad
shoot.
She’d passed. Her knees almost give
out, the spreading ache from her lower back beating in time with
the blood whooshing in her ears.

“
I passed? I passed!” She sounds slaphappy even to her own
ears, and so doesn’t complain when a bearded ginger soldier –
Marty, she thinks he’s called – slings her arm round his shoulder
and drags her off to the medical bay, stabilizing her torso with a
telekinetic brace.

*

She doesn’t even bitch about having to lie on
her stomach for an hour while they check her spine and run the ray
over her. Rubber bullets aren’t supposed to break bones, but they
hurt like blazes, and she willingly submits to the doctor’s
orders.

When her father comes to see her, pride and
fear are warring in his sleepy hazel eyes. As the leader of ARC, he
needs every soldier he can get. As a parent, though, she knows he
just wants to protect her, not put her in danger by sending her out
into the world above. He rubs his thumb gently over her ARC
insignia, and she can’t hide her elation, even in the face of his
fear. He congratulates her anyway, although his voice is sad. He
has to be thinking about the possibility of losing a second child.
But she knows he will respect her success and the rules of
ARC.

One of those rules is that as a qualified
operative, she’s eligible for putting together proposals, as well
as being given assignments. When she’s medically cleared, he’ll
assign her first mission. It could be anything, from stealing a
shipment of supplies to feed the families at ARC, to kidnapping and
interrogating an Institute soldier. Or, it could be what she longs
for: The chance to go after one of the children the Institute
routinely uses to gather intelligence and quash rebellious
thoughts. To go after Damon.

The thought of pulling her brother from the
clutches of the government agency that tortures him lull her to
sleep.

*

It takes four days for Medical to clear her
for duty. Bruising on the spine can cause complications, so it’s
treated cautiously. The parade of well-wishers has kept her
supplied with snacks and treats, though, and her dorm buddies made
her a sign that says ‘Youngest Operative Ever (Eat Rad, Abial),’
and hung it above her bed. She sees it when she’s finally released
to pack up her room, and it cracks her up.

It surprises her how nostalgic she feels as
she piles the last of her meagre belongings into boxes. The initial
burst of excitement and pride has faded somewhat, leaving a solid
sense of determination and calm in its wake. Realistically, she
knows that the chances of being sent on the high-risk mission she
wants are low. But even if they deny her request to go after her
brother, she will do her best for ARC, and prove to them that she
can be trusted with anything. One day, her chance will come, and
she’ll be ready.

Finally, boxes at her feet, she sits on the
bare mattress and looks around the stark room. There’s never been
much in the way of personal belongings in the room – too difficult
to get a hold of – but it looks strange without her chaotic corner
of clothes and weapons manuals. She rubs her thumb against her
brand new operative pin and sighs, getting to her feet. The very
last thing she does before she picks up her stuff and leaves her
old bunk is digitally submit the proposal she’s been working on for
two years to Ops. The proposal that would send her after Damon,
with a small, hand-chosen team.

The team is one smaller than it had been a
month ago, Abial’s name deleted from the request list.

*

It’s been two weeks since she
moved into the Barracks, and she’s been doing nothing but training
and checking her datapad every day for an assignment. Working with
the qualified operatives, including the opportunity to be on
the
other
side of
the Arena, keeps her somewhat occupied, but she’s chafing at the
bit, wondering why nothing has come through for her. Her new
roommate has been out the entire time she’s bunked there, which
means she has altogether too much time to herself. Against her
wishes, she misses Abial and the companionship they shared. But she
still goes out of her way to be anywhere Abial isn’t, only speaking
to her as much as is necessary, when it can’t be avoided. She’s
lonely, and sad, and getting more irritable by the day.

When the order finally comes, her
comm beeps loudly, jerking her out of a deep slumber. She opens the
file, and her heart simultaneously drops with disappointment and
hammers with adrenaline. There isn’t much information, but there’s
enough for her to know that this assignment can’t be anything to do
with Damon. He was taken here, in Fourth City, and this order tells
her to prepare to travel. But anything that hurts the Institute
could help him, or at least weaken the hold of the evil
organization, so she reads the information twice to commit it to
memory before she gets ready to head to the Ops department.
Right, so ... Now it’s really real, and it’s on
me.

Her hands are shaking, but not with fear, as
she pulls on her civilian kit. Body armour would never make it
through the scanners, which use millimetre wave technology to hunt
for suspicious objects, including weapons. She’s going to Second
City, which means taking the Intercity tube. So her team is on its
own. No reliable backup. ARC might have resources in Second City,
but they’re limited compared to those of the Institute, who are
housed in every one of the eight major settlements. ARC only really
has any presence here, in Fourth City. And Second City is hundreds
of kilometres away, on the other side of the desert.

If they’re going to Second City, they won’t
have anywhere to run should they get noticed.

A shiver runs down her spine, and she wonders
why she’s being sent on a dangerous out-of-city assignment for her
very first. Then she realizes: Clean identities aren’t that hard to
come by – there are always forgers working on faking Citizen cards.
Any basic clean ID will get you through the wall that separates the
townships from the wealthy. They won’t, however, fool the facial
recognition software that guards the most secure
facilities.

This mission needs someone who’s
never been caught on camera before, so that they can get through
the intense electronic security measures the government has
installed on the tube. If that’s the reason, her partner is likely
to be another new operative, who hasn’t yet been compromised. A
recently graduated operative. An operative like Abial.
Nuke.

HER ASSESSMENT OF
the situation proves accurate. When she pushes
open the door to Ops, Abial is already leaning over a large comp
table, scanning the reams of fast-moving text that clearly comprise
their mission briefing.
Stupid
speed-reader.
That’ll take me ages to
read.
Serena’s father is rapidly adding
information to the display from his datapad, swiping new images and
text files onto the table. He glances over, his curly, greying hair
shadowing his permanently sad eyes. He looks exhausted, hollow
cheeked, and wan. It’s barely dawn, now, and he’s probably been up
all night, putting together the information they’ll need, letting
them get as much rest as possible

“Agent Jacobs.” The wry tone gives him away;
he has decided to treat her like any other operative. Whether this
is for her benefit or his doesn’t matter.

“Sir.” She’s pleased that her voice is steady
and strong, giving away none of her disquiet, and marches over to
the huge tabletop screen to join in the briefing. They’re being
sent to Second City because a large group of Institute soldiers has
just left Fourth City on the tube, geared for military action. A
group of Watch soldiers – ungifted military justice enforcers –
appears to be preparing to join them. The intelligence they’ve
gathered leads the ARC techs to believe that it’s a manhunt;
someone the Institute wants very badly is on the loose in Second
City. It seems that the soldiers from Fourth City are going out to
provide support for the local Institute and City Watch.

And anyone that the Institute wants that badly
could also be useful to ARC – another rebel fighting to destroy the
Institute’s chokehold on the struggling population. So ARC is
sending in operatives of its own to find out what’s going on. And
either back this person up or take them out, depending on what they
find. To keep them from the Institute, either way.

Familiarizing herself with the
layout of the City, memorizing the maps and going through the
information available, doesn’t fill Serena with confidence. There’s
not enough of it – not enough information, not enough knowledge.
Not only are they going to be out there by themselves, against the
full power of the local Institute
plus
extra squads, but worse, nobody
really knows
why
.
It’s all just guesswork from intercepted communication. If the
Institute thinks it’s worth putting in this much effort, ARC has to
believe that too … at least that’s the message she’s
getting.

She keeps her uneasiness from her face,
knowing that she has to accept the mission in her role as
operative. If her father had greeted her in any other way, she
would have questioned him, but he’s made it clear that here and now
she’s an operative and he is her leader. Her superior, sending her
on an unsupported, dangerous mission with a girl she doesn’t
trust.

Urgh.
She
resists the urge to roll her eyes at him like Young Shannon would
do.

Abial, meanwhile, is studiously
avoiding Serena’s eyes as she sorts through equipment. Serena
glances down at the table, taking in the lack of weapons, and
grimaces. Getting through the Wall with weapons isn’t too hard. A
bribe here, an avoided scanner there ... But getting onto the tube
with anything dangerous would be suicide. The tubes are the
best-guarded places in the world, because the governors live in
fear of travel between the cities being cut off, and making the
trip any way
except
the tube means leagues of slums, dead land, and inhospitable
ground. It’s slow as well as dangerous, and exposed. Kion was born
in the dead lands, and is one of the only people Serena knows who
travels to other cities that way – gone for months at a time and
coming back weathered and thin. He doesn’t talk about it much, but
from the scraps she’s heard, it doesn’t sound like a good journey
to make, even for a born nomad like him.

She can’t really blame the governors for not
wanting to make a trip like that, and building the tube in the
first place. It’s fast and relatively easy, and good for most
travel. For ARC, of course, it adds a whole mess of complications
to a mission.

So, no weapons, but they can lift some when
they arrive if they think they need to. Their tech will get through
okay, as long as it looks like something civs would be carrying.
She picks up one of the phony IdentCards and snickers. ‘Gabrielle
Williams’ is seventeen and a prospective university student. The
photo they’ve used of Serena is unflattering, to say the least. She
looks like a serial killer.