Vortex (33 page)
Vengerov
had
been listening that day. He’d heard Blackburn, and he learned someone else like Tom and Medusa existed. Then he learned that the ghost was a friend of Tom’s. It couldn’t have been difficult from there, extrapolating the likeliest suspect. Tom had a notoriously extraordinary friend.
Medusa.
That’s why Vengerov approached Tom about giving Medusa a virus. And Tom stupidly went to Medusa and told her LM Lymer Fleet had only been surveilling her because she was winning too much—he’d been passing along Vengerov’s lie. That wasn’t the reason Vengerov was watching her. Tom was the reason she wasn’t on guard anymore. Vengerov was hunting that ghost and he believed it was Medusa. Tom may have doomed her. He’d doomed them all.
Vik paced in a frantic circle. “There’s going to be more of those Praetorians soon,” he said, eyes on the door to the hallway. “We have to get out of here. We can’t stay! They’ll bust through that door any minute!”
“There’s nowhere to go, Vik.” Wyatt hugged herself, visibly shaking. “We’re never getting through those machines. That’s the only path. The only other way is outside.”
Outside. Tom had done that already, and it hadn’t been winter then. It would be colder. Outside was death. He knew that in his bones.
Suddenly a voice boomed out, filling the air around them. Tom shivered as he recognized the upper-crust British accent with a hint of Russian. “To the invader or invaders in my complex, salutations!”
Vik and Wyatt grew rigid. Tom held his breath. Vengerov sounded like he was enjoying himself.
“I apologize for the welcome you’ve received from my killing machines, but alas, you took us quite by surprise. I know you are trapped, and I know where. Bravo for making it this far. I dearly regret that you disabled my surveillance system, because I would greatly enjoy seeing your face as I assure you that at this very moment, fifty Praetorians are converging on your position, primed to bring down that wall on my command.”
Vik spun toward the door again, like he expected it to explode in on them. Wyatt’s head bowed downward. Tom couldn’t stop shaking.
“But I see no reason for needless bloodshed or a dramatic display of force,” Vengerov went on. “Therefore, I shall give you this opportunity to surrender yourselves to my custody. If my machines discover you facedown on the floor, disarmed, with your hands linked behind your heads, they will spare you. Otherwise, they will kill you like dogs. I give you ninety seconds to make your decision about whether you intend to live or die.”
His voice cut off abruptly, leaving Tom, Vik, and Wyatt shivering in the warehouse, eyes wide and frightened.
“We have to do it,” Wyatt said. “We have to give up.”
Vik was ashen. “We’ll get thrown in prison for this.”
“It’s better than being dead, Vik! We’ll tell Vengerov the truth. He rigged up Yuri, so we came here to free him. Vengerov can’t talk about doing things that are wrong. . . . He’s the one who probably ordered Yuri’s neural processor destroyed!”
“Just like he could do to ours,” Vik pointed out darkly. “He didn’t care about Yuri—what makes you think he won’t do it to us?”
“He won’t,” she stammered. “He—he can’t. We’re still useful to the military, and Vengerov’s on the same side as we are. Maybe we’ll face some sort of disciplinary thing. Guys?”
“No one knows we’re here, Wyatt,” Vik countered, his eyes intent. “He doesn’t have to hand us back over. He could kill us or do anything he wants to us.”
“We have to surrender. What choice do we have?” Wyatt said intently. “And why aren’t you saying anything, Tom? What do you think?”
They both looked at him.
Tom felt a strange, odd calm despite his certainty of doom. He knew what would happen. If they resisted, they died. If they surrendered, well, Joseph Vengerov had manufactured the processors, and he’d manufactured the census device. When he caught them, he’d demand far more than their excuses—he’d stick them under the census device and cull them for every last secret in their heads. He’d tear the truth out of them, and he’d learn what Tom could do.
Who would stop him? They weren’t in the United States. They were on a distant continent. No one knew they were here, and there was nothing stopping Vengerov from doing whatever he wanted. Vengerov would find out Tom had been in his head, seen through his eyes. He’d realize Tom was the ghost in the machine he’d been tracking, and when he culled Tom even more, he’d learn that there were two ghosts and Medusa was the other one. Tom would give her away and he knew he couldn’t stop that from happening.
Tom closed his eyes. He couldn’t let that happen. Vik and Wyatt didn’t know about Medusa, so they could surrender. They
should
surrender.
“Wyatt’s right. We don’t have a choice,” Tom said to them. “Our only way to survive this is to hope Vengerov shows mercy. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would go this way. Just lie on the floor.”
Tom made a show of lying down, to be sure Wyatt and Vik would do it, too. When they were both down, gazing at the floor, breathing so hard he could see it, Tom eased himself back up to his feet again.
There were a million things he wished he could say to Vik and Wyatt, but he knew even if he tried, he wouldn’t get the words out. They’d all get tangled up in his throat, and his friends would both realize what he was about to do and maybe talk him out of it—and he’d let them persuade him because he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t. It killed him to think he’d gotten them into this; he’d give anything to see them escape. But the only one he could help now was Medusa. He could still send her a message. He could warn her Vengerov was onto her.
But not from within Obsidian Corp.’s walls.
Tom moved softly so his friends wouldn’t notice him creeping backward, his legs shaking as he inched toward the door leading outside. It felt like moving through quicksand. And then he was there, his hand on the chilled doorknob, and Tom knew the clock was running out. He shoved open the door, the wall of overpowering cold like a massive fist striking him. But Tom forced himself outward despite every instinct screaming at him to turn around.
Then he closed the door behind him, trapping himself outside in the punishing, intolerable cold.
For a moment, he stood there, horrified by what he’d done, trapping himself outside, condemning himself. His skin began to freeze as the wind knifed his skull, drove spikes into his eardrums. His neural processor
advised him to seek shelter, but Tom knew he would never surrender to the census device if he stayed out there.
His neural processor connected with the roaming server as wind stung tears out of his eyes and froze them on his cheeks, and his ears became pokers burning into his head. A nightmare of the past reared back to life under the pitiless sky cut with vivid stars and a green veil of solar winds as Tom waited to die.
And then something made the stars swim in the sky, and the distortion grew larger and larger above him. For a moment, Tom wasn’t sure what he was seeing, and then a wave of displaced air knocked him backward onto the hard snow, humming throbbing his eardrums as a full Centurion-class drone retracted its camouflaging above his head.
I saw your note, Mordred,
Medusa net-sent him.
I thought I’d come tell you: not a good idea.
Tom gaped up at Medusa’s drone, too shocked to feel cold for a moment, and he shouted into the wind,
“My friends are still trapped inside!”
Immediately, the Centurion swung around, and its weapons flashed at the side of the warehouse, ripping a gaping hole into it. Through the sudden blast of heat, Tom made out Wyatt and Vik on the floor. He saw Vik grab her and they ducked as the drone roared over their heads across the warehouse.
That’s when swarms of Praetorians blasted the wall and poured through the opening. Medusa’s Centurion began firing at them, and Tom charged forward until he reached Vik and Wyatt, his lungs alternately stabbed by heat and cold, and he helped haul them upright and jerked them with him as the lasers of the Praetorians spliced through the night, Medusa’s drone spinning in the air as it fired back. And then Vik and Wyatt were crowding against him, a wall of warmth reaching them as fire consumed the warehouse. Snow and sparks swirled around them as Praetorian after Praetorian was blasted apart.
“T-T-Tom . . . how . . .” Vik said, shivering violently.
And then behind them, another optically camouflaged ship lowered itself onto the snow, passenger compartment popping open, as close as it could get to them without danger.
Vik and Wyatt were frozen in place, but Tom snapped into motion and urged them toward it, knowing their only safety lay inside. They clambered up the steps and stuffed themselves into the crowded little cabin, meant for a crew of two, at most. The windowed compartment sealed up over them.
Tom willed on his net-send thought interface. He had no trouble focusing.
Medusa, is the drone still intact?
Tom messaged her. Here is Obsidian Corp.’s external defense grid, and here is the supercomputer we need destroyed. . . . He sent her the coordinates he’d found in Obsidian Corp.’s systems, the transmitter they hadn’t managed to get themselves.
Got it.
And the last thing they saw before they jolted up into the atmosphere was a series of warehouses blasting apart.
Done,
she sent back.
Antarctica’s icy expanse and Obsidian Corp.’s burning, black mass receded beneath them until they became mere pinpricks.
Tom realized his breath was fogging up the window where he was pressed against it, trying to see. He grew aware of Wyatt’s fingers digging into his arm, Vik’s tense form against his other side. Tom maneuvered around in the tiny space, his legs bundled up against him. Wyatt and Vik’s eyes enormous in the dimness.
“Thank y-you,” Tom said reverently to the air. “You s-saved our lives.”
“W-who are you talking to?” Vik managed.
“I d-don’t understand this,” Wyatt said, shivering.
“C-can I tell?” Tom said. “They can be t-trusted.”
For a long moment, they all three shivered in the thick silence as Tom awaited an answer.
If you’re sure,
Medusa replied.
Tom felt almost like he could laugh and cry with the sheer relief of this, another secret sliding off him. He waited until his teeth stopped chattering, just so he could figure out the right words. “Guys, meet Medusa. Sort of. She’s controlling this ship, and that was her drone, too. Medusa, meet Vik and Wyatt. Sort of. They’re my best friends.”
In response, the ship dipped briefly toward the dark waters below them like a salute.
Vik and Wyatt stared at Tom, wide-eyed. They said nothing for so long, Tom began to grow alarmed.
Finally, Wyatt said, “Thank you, uh, Medusa?”
And then Vik said, “This is your secret life again, isn’t it?”
Tom leaned his head back against the glass enclosure with a sheepish smile. “Sort of.”
M
EDUSA DROPPED THEM
off as close to the Pentagon as she dared approach, and Tom, Vik, and Wyatt hitched a very awkward ride into Arlington. The Pentagon City Mall was closed for the night, so they conducted their second stealth operation of the evening. Breaking into Obsidian Corp. had been a tense, life-threatening experience. Breaking into Toddery’s Chicken Barn to access the Pentagon City Mall was another matter.
They could barely repress their giddy laughter as they followed the passage between the mall and the Pentagon, trying to think of the excuse they’d use to explain why they weren’t listed as absent from the Pentagonal Spire. Finally, they decided to just show themselves to the officers on duty, and pretend they’d been caught sneaking out of the Spire, not sneaking in. They all got slapped with a weekend of scutwork duty and restricted libs, but they were ushered back into the Spire and no eyebrows were raised. In an installation filled with teenagers, catching trainees trying to sneak out after curfew wasn’t a notable or unusual event.
Tom was so wired up with adrenaline, he was sure he could sprint ten miles if he needed to. He volunteered to sneak the gear back into the armory. Anything to put off sleep. He couldn’t sleep anytime soon.
He was scrunching across the ground in the unlit Calisthenics Arena when a shadow moved, and Tom became aware of Lieutenant Blackburn waiting for him. Ice water flooded Tom’s veins. He found himself rooted in place, thinking of Heather. Thinking of what he’d seen.
“Well?” Blackburn said tiredly. He looked years older in the dimness. “I’m sure you’ve got some preposterous lie ready for me. Give it a shot.”
“I borrowed these. For a prank.” Tom lifted the optical camouflage suits.
Blackburn shook his head. “No, you didn’t. I was up working late tonight . . .”
Tom stirred. Working? So Blackburn hadn’t dropped off to sleep after what happened with Heather.
“. . . and I got to hear in real time the confidential channels lighting up with chatter about an accident at Obsidian Corp. An entire wing of the Antarctica facility was obliterated. Shockingly enough, my thoughts immediately turned to
you.
I checked on you and according to your GPS signal, you’d been in the bathroom for the last three hours. Coincidentally, so had Vikram Ashwan and Wyatt Enslow.”
“I think it was something we ate,” Tom tried. “You know Chris Majal’s Indian Hall . . .”
“Raines, have I ever, and I mean
ever
, fallen for any of these ridiculous stories of yours?”
Tom let out a breath. “Fine. You’ve got us. We did it. And you know it. The transmitter’s gone. We destroyed it. We freed Yuri. And I knew I had to do more damage to the place than targeting the transmitter, or it would be too conspicuous so we hit some other things, too.”
“Do you know what’s conspicuous? Burning down the heart of the security state.”
“We were careful,” Tom assured him. “We took care of the surveillance cameras, we were wrapped in these optical camouflage suits securely enough that we didn’t leave any DNA, and the one place we removed them, we
burned
down afterward. Even the Interstice didn’t record our trip. That transmitter’s not controlling Yuri. It’s gone. Stick me in the census device, and I’ll show you, then you can approve him for a neural processor while there’s still time.”
Blackburn drew closer, shadows sliding over his scarred face. “And let’s say I do what you want. I inform higher-ups that Sysevich is no longer a threat. Then, I’m giving you a pat on the back for what you did. I’m rewarding you for this.”
Tom held his ground. “I realize you could probably let Vengerov kill Yuri. I also get that you are probably even capable of, I dunno”—he shrugged, never taking his eyes from him—“
just killing someone
who posed a threat to you somehow. . . .”
Blackburn’s shoulders tensed, and Tom knew he was wondering if there was more behind his choice of words.
“But I don’t think you’re gonna let Yuri die when there’s no reason for it.” Tom’s thoughts flickered back to Blackburn’s empty apartment, to that dumb candle. “You may not care what I think about you, or what anyone else thinks about you, but I don’t think you’re some unfeeling monster. If you turn around and let Yuri die, you know Wyatt will never get over it. She won’t forgive you. She won’t forgive herself. You’re not going to let that happen.”
Blackburn looked like some sort of statue. He didn’t move.
“And, hey, if you really need more incentive, then I can
buy
your agreement about Yuri’s new processor,” Tom said, inspired. “I have something else. Information. You’re gonna want this.”
“What?” Blackburn said quietly.
“Joseph Vengerov has a neural processor.”
Blackburn’s face froze.
“I figured you didn’t know
. I
didn’t.”
For a moment, Blackburn stood there. Then, “That’s impossible. He’s too old, Raines. It would have damaged his brain. No one would do that.”
“Well, it hasn’t. It’s there. It’s in his head. I saw it. That’s gotta be worth something to you,” Tom said, weary. He tossed the gear at him. Blackburn caught it automatically. “Think it over. I’m going to bed. I’m beat.”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and left Blackburn alone there by the armory in the shadowy Calisthenics Arena, stock-still, clutching the bundle of optical camouflage suits.
W
ITHIN HOURS OF
receiving his new neural processor, Yuri began bucking against the ventilator, so it was replaced by a nasal cannula. The prongs in his nose gave him a decidedly less alien appearance than the giant tube down his throat had.
Yuri began to wake up for minutes at a time, and then for a full hour. Tom, Vik, and Wyatt were finally all there one day when he stirred. The large Russian boy blinked at them, dazed. Yuri’s memories had all been downloaded into the new processor, but they hadn’t spoken to him yet.
“Thomas? Vikram?” He hadn’t yet spotted Wyatt, lurking by the doorway.
Tom and Vik ambled over. “Hey, man. Welcome to the waking world.”
Yuri settled back in his bed. “I am pleased to return.” He raised his arm, then looked at it, wide-eyed. “My great muscle mass!”
“Sorry, man,” Tom said, feeling bad for him.
“Yeah, you’ve got work to do. That’s what you get for lying in bed for months on end,” Vik chided him. “By the way, Yuri, now seems an optimal time for you and I to have a weight lifting contest, winner gets a hundred.”
Tom socked Vik’s arm for Yuri. Yuri chuckled weakly.
And then his lingering distress seemed to melt away when Wyatt slunk forward and settled by his side. He craned his head back so he could gaze up at her adoringly, and for the first time Tom could remember, she looked back at him the same way.
As she leaned down to kiss him, Tom’s thoughts stretched to someone else.
He needed to see Medusa.
T
HE
P
ENTAGONAL
S
PIRE
was a tense place these days, so most people paid little attention to Yuri Sysevich’s miraculous recovery or his restoration to active duty status, pending his actual, physical recovery. Instead, everyone talked about Elliot’s dramatic, public defection. Or they whispered about the way Heather Akron had gone crazy at Capitol Summit, and now she was missing. Her GPS signal had even disappeared.
Tom knew the truth, and it made his stomach churn, knowing he was essentially covering up a murder . . . but he wasn’t sure what else to do. Too many of his secrets were tangled up with Blackburn’s.
Some things weren’t as complicated.
Tom owed Medusa his life, Yuri’s life, and Vik and Wyatt’s freedom. It seemed like forever before she popped into the system again. When he met her, there were no more avatars, no illusory setting, just a blank white room, a template unwritten. He swept her up into his arms and swung her around. “I owe you so incredibly much, and I’m going to pay you back somehow.”
She laughed. “I know. You seriously owe me. You’re lucky I saw your fond farewell note.”
“How did you find that so soon?” Tom asked. “I wrote it right before I left.”
“I told you, I’ve been monitoring your online activity to make sure you wouldn’t compromise our identities. I get an alert if your personal database references ‘Medusa.’ I also added ‘Murgatroid’ just in case.”
He laughed. “I should’ve addressed it to ‘the Troid.’”
“Then you’d be dead.”
“Yeah,” he said, suddenly serious. “I’d be dead.”
“Once I knew where you’d gone,” she said, “I kept those ships on standby. As soon as you were outside the building, I homed in on your GPS coordinates to see if you needed help.” She punched him lightly. “You should have asked me from the beginning.”
Tom gazed at her. “But we were doing it because our friend needed us to destroy that transmitter, Medusa. I couldn’t have asked you to risk that. . . .”
“You didn’t have to,” she told him. “You’ve never had to.”
“I guess not,” Tom breathed.
A year ago, before Capitol Summit, he’d tried to ask her to take a dive for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d known she’d say no. Why would anyone do that for him? She’d said to him afterward that maybe it would’ve been a possibility. He hadn’t believed her. Not even long afterward. Not until now, when she’d done something so hazardous just for his sake. The realization rocked through Tom that she’d risked drawing Obsidian Corp.’s attention to herself and she’d done it for him.
Tom’s grip tensed around her, because he had this sudden, terrible sense something awful would happen if he let her go. “I have to ask you something, Medusa.”
She eased back, waiting for it, her eyes searching his.
Tom stroked her black hair nervously. “Listen.” He licked his lips, his stomach dancing. For a tangle of reasons. “Tell me something. I hope I’m wrong, but I’m going to guess your name again.”
“Now?”
“Now.” His voice was intent. “Is your name ‘Yaolan’?”
Medusa jerked in his grip, and Tom felt something cold and frightening squeezing inside him, knowing it was.
“How did you . . .” she breathed. “Did you go in the personnel files in the Citadel? I told you not to do that, Tom!”
“I didn’t.” Tom clasped her shoulders, full of dread. He leaned down so he could stare right into her eyes. “
Joseph Vengerov
said it. I interfaced with his neural processor, briefly—”
“
His
neural processor?”
“His neural processor,” Tom confirmed. “He has one. You were right when you said LM Lymer Fleet was surveilling you—that was
Vengerov
surveilling you because he’s on to what you can do. I couldn’t get into Obsidian Corp. because he’d already figured out how to block our way. He knows there’s a ghost in the machine. He knows how to detect us, block us, and when he found me in his system, he called me ‘Yaolan.’”
She folded her arms, withdrawing one step, then another. He wished she wouldn’t pull away from him when something upset her.
“Don’t you see?” Tom said urgently. “You’re in danger. He’s going to come for you, especially after what happened at Obsidian Corp. I think this is why he wanted me to use the virus on you—he wanted to knock you out for a while to see if the ghost in the machine went away when you did. If that happened, he would have all the confirmation he needs about who the ghost is. He already suspects it’s you.”
Her jaw set as she straightened to her full height. “It’s good you warned me. I’ll be careful.”
“Careful won’t do it, Medusa! He
knows.
”
But she shook her head, and Tom felt a surge of frustration, because she
couldn’t
understand. Joseph Vengerov was another Coalition CEO to her. She hadn’t been in Vengerov’s mind for that brief instant, hadn’t felt his ferocious desire to possess, the blinding need to own without conscience, without scruple, without self-doubt. She didn’t have a Blackburn or a Yuri to serve as walking examples of how little value Vengerov placed on human life.
“What am I supposed to do, then?” Medusa demanded. “Even if he suspects me, it’s not like there is any way I can fix this.”
“Yes, there is,” Tom said. “You can come over here.”
“Go there?” she said disbelievingly. “To the Pentagonal Spire?”
But Tom’s thoughts were racing ahead, and he grew so sure of this. There was one thing he had over here that Medusa didn’t have—and strange as it was, Tom realized it was the strongest weapon in his arsenal.
He had Blackburn.
Blackburn knew everything about him. He was the single person who could face Vengerov on a technical level. He was the only person who could be counted upon to hate Vengerov without wavering. And after seeing Blackburn kill Heather, Tom knew one more thing: Blackburn would do whatever he had to do to keep Tom’s ability out of Vengerov’s hands. He’d do it by any means necessary. It was strange that Tom felt no connection with Blackburn, no fondness, but he knew to his bones that he could rely on Blackburn’s hatred for Vengerov in a way he’d never been able to rely on anything else, even his own father.
In one respect, at least—Tom could absolutely trust him.
Blackburn had to keep Vengerov away from Tom; he also had to keep Vengerov away from Medusa. There was nowhere on Earth safer for her than within Blackburn’s reach.
“Yes, come here.” Tom grew excited. “Interface with a ship, or I’ll do it and fly you over. I’ll hide you, we’ll watch out for each other, and . . . and I can tell you more about why, but I know you’ll be safe here. I
know
it. Then if Vengerov tries to get you at the Citadel, you’ll be gone, you’ll be out of reach. Don’t you see?” Something else clicked, too. His stomach flipped. “We can meet. I mean, we could really meet. For the first time.”
Medusa’s face softened. She leaned forward and tapped the tip of his nose in a way that made Tom feel a bit foolish. “I appreciate the offer of protection, but I think we’ve established here which one of us tends to be the damsel in distress.”
“Medusa, if you don’t get over here now, you might not have a chance later. I don’t have programs in your system to let me know if you get in trouble. I won’t even know something’s happened. I won’t know to help you.”
