Rebels (35 page)

We all come together. I was of the air. My sister, for the briefest moment, must have been, too. We are reunited here below Indra for reasons beyond our comprehension. I suspect the history of our
world was broken long before we took our first breaths together. Perhaps this is the start of something else. Something new.

◊  ◊  ◊

“They'll see you a mile off in that thing,” says Chae, handing me a coarse black cloak. He gives one to Lex, and she drops it over her body suit.

Zavier draws figures in the dirt, showing each rebel their placement for when we pass through Old Town. “Stay close to Lex and Livia, but with enough distance so you don't draw undue attention. As for the two of you,” he says, motioning my sister and me over, “keep your head down. And for all our sakes, do not engage under any circumstances. Our customs are complex.” He smirks, glancing in Lex's direction. “Even though for some, I suspect this will be difficult.”

We gather our blasters and gear that we've shed, and it's finally time. Chae rolls the portal open; it slides along its ancient tracks with the sound of stone grinding against stone.

He disappears into the darkness, the others immediately following. One by one, the rebels are gone. Samantha stays by our side, our native guardian. “It's not so bad,” she says. “In fact, you might just like it here.”

Kane sees my apprehension, catches my eye, and winks.

“Ready?” I ask Lex.

“I was born ready. Same time as you, actually.”

“I wonder which of us is older?”

I'm about to enter the most dangerous territory in all the Lower Levels. Yet nothing will surprise me as much as seeing Lex almost smile.

At the door, I take a deep breath and a huge step into the unknown.

The Hub casts off massive amounts of energy. That energy heats up the Lower Levels, especially when you factor in your proximity to the core. The heat can create a weird haze, almost a fog, and my newly gifted cloak traps it too well. Kane stumbles frequently—perhaps it is the booster wearing off—and our crew's progress is slower than it should be.

“Is this the Safe Zone?” I ask Zavier.

“Not yet,” he says. His not-quite-gentle manner during the procedure has reverted to indifference. He's threatened by me, I think.

“Close?”

“You'll know it when you see it.”

I lose track of the other rebels in the haze. It's easier to keep my eyes focused on Livia and Kane and try to follow their footsteps. I try not to read into their pairing. They've kissed—I mean, it's not easy to forget, but. It's just easier to try to.

I keep walking. Zavier says I'll know it when I see it, but I start to hear it first.

Voices holler over the thick bass kicks. The music is loud and greasy. I must hear it in advance of the rest because they're wary when the lights dance through the murkiness. In the Lower Levels, it's always night. Harsh beams of white and flashing neon red announce the entry to Old Town, a freakish light show that could make you sick if you stare too long.

“Home sweet home.” I whistle. Zavier ignores me.

“Through there,” he says, indicating a narrow walkway cutting between scrap plating. Corrugated hovels are built into each other. A man stumbles out of one, howling with laughter or pain, it's hard to decipher, then falls to the ground, stone-still.

“Is he dead?” I ask.

“Maybe. You never know around here.”

I know he's messing with my head. I can hear it in his voice. Still . . .

This
is the Safe Zone?

Even the Academy sims don't prepare you for the squabble of day-to-day existence down here. Our final sim didn't replicate the stench or the decaying atmosphere. We'd only been given a loose interpretation. They layer their lies with just enough reality. They taught us order with our uniforms and rows of cots. But chaos? How do you prepare for that?

“C'mon,” says Zavier.

Act like you've seen it before
, I tell myself.
Like this is nothing new.

I follow him across the main boulevard, a claustrophobic walkway of uneven rocks. The hovels are stacked on top of each other, their tops disappearing into the fog, which disguises the enormity of the Safe Zone. Somewhere, far above, is a domed slab of rock. You'd never know, except for the echo of greasy Rock Bottom rhythms.

The scavs shove past us, some pushing their wares in our faces: expired rations or previously used blades and stunners.

“Getcher emissions right here! Flares, sparkers, particle beamers! Highest voltage in the dirtlands, can't beat the price!”

“Water capsules, honey? You're lookin' a little parched . . .”

“Get you messed up. Two minutes, won't know your own name. Chewers, sniffers, lickers, any way you like it! Best stuff in and out of the Zone.”

Zavier puts an arm around me and pulls me in tight. A look
from him to the vendors communicates quite clearly his level of disinterest.

A filthy man pushes something in my face. Half a dried-out wafer held between two black fingernails. He reeks of dead things.

“Yummy?” he says.

“No,” Zavier barks. “Get.”

I turn my head and a blaster is pointed right in my face.

“I'll give you a good price,” says the man-thing holding it. He turns it sideways for a better view. “You're gonna need it, pretty pretty. Gotta protect yourself, y'know? Got us some untrustworthy types round here.” He cackles.

I flash the one I'm packing. He scurries off to the next mark.

My head's throbbing. I can't get enough air. I'm starting to wheeze.

Livia
, I think. All that rich Upper atmosphere, she can't be better off. These scavs are making me mighty protective.

I spot Kane first. He's pushing through a huddle of half-naked women. They giggle, blow him kisses. “New in town?” says one. “Let me give you a private tour.” She reaches out, runs a finger down his cheek.

Marley pushes between them. “Leave the kid alone,” he says, shoving Kane forward.

There's Samantha crouched in front of a little girl missing her right arm. The girl babbles excitedly. Glad to have someone listen. Samantha says something, ruffles the girl's hair, and rises. She hasn't lost her touch.

“Don't get distracted,” says Zavier gruffly.

“I can't find Livia,” I say.

“She's fine. She's got someone watching her. Not much more of this anyway. Now stay focused. I mean it. Stay focused or you'll screw this up for everyone.”

I whip my head to face him. He's looking at me like I'm lower than dirt. Lower than Rock Bottom itself. He's almost snarling.

I hate him. Every inch of him.

We're getting muscled by passing scavs. He grabs my arm. “What's got into you?”

I shove him away and lose him in the crowd.

I get grabbed for like the fifth time. They've got no sense of personal space. I try to pull myself away, but I can't. The hand is massive; it's fisted around my biceps. Before I can shout to the others, before I can do anything, another hand covers my mouth and I'm being pulled backward. It happens so quickly I can barely think.

I'm dragged through the door of one of the scrap hovels and thrown on the dirt floor. Before I can draw my blaster, I'm staring down the long barrel of a ventilator. At least, that's what everyone in SpecOps calls it because it leaves such large, nasty holes. Though he's wrapped in a tattered gray cloak, I can see his SpecOps-silitex-enhanced body armor beneath it. His faceplate is a mutated orange skull on a field of chipped black. If this man ever truly served on Rock Bottom Patrol, he looks like he's gone completely core-low native.

“Are you a rebel?” he says. “If you've turned your back that fully on your oath, I will blast you into the stinking mud.”

“No,” I practically spit.

“Only the unworthy dwell down here.” He doesn't take the ventilator off me. “SpecOps Lex, you have been found derelict of your duty. You have stolen PCF craft and made illegal incursions on Helix Island, on a mutinous rig, and in the chambers of the High Council.”

“Are you really SpecOps?” I say.

“You do not know me. Know only that your penalty for treason is death.”

“I'm not a rebel,” I say. “Whatever you think, I'm not that.”

The ventilator hums so much, all I can think of is Livia's damn singing sword. Must every weapon cry before it kills?

“You want me to lead you to their base?” I say.

“I will kill you, then find it myself.”

I look at him and I cannot believe that this is where my future would have led if I hadn't committed every crime he's accused me of.

“I'm not a rebel—on the oath I swore, I am not. But I believe someone within the High Council has ordered the death of the Helix Island airess, and possibly my own by this point, and the rebels have answers. Answers that I need to know. Will you at least hear me out?”

His breath rasps beneath his faceplate. The ventilator is so close I could kiss it. And it would return my kiss with death.

“Please. Tell me your name.”

“Lieutenant Hauser. D Troop.”

The name almost shocks me up onto my feet, but I know if I move, the ventilator will bark. “I knew a Hauser. He spoke to me at the Academy. You spoke to us after the rebels attacked the Hub. One hundred and twenty-two dead. If you think that truly I've forgotten those people, or the oath I swore to protect them, then kill me now.”

I push my forehead against his ventilator.

If this world is at all worth living in, if not all the PCF are corrupt, then this won't be my end.

Then I remember how off my judgment's been the past few days, and how it's all led me to be in this position, seated in the dirt miles below the surface, closer to the core than I've ever been before, and I'm terribly, terribly scared.

With my eyes closed, all I see is darkness.

I open my eyes when I can no longer feel the ventilator's touch between them. Hauser holds it by his side. He motions me up.

“I will follow you,” he says. “At any moment, if I feel you betray me, I will kill you and everyone who stands by your side. Do you understand?”

I nod.

“You will bring me to the Rebel Base. After that, you will be brought back for judgment before the Court of Honors, but your assistance here could help sway their judgment. Aside from that, your only other option is death. Know that I need no other companion than death, and he is forever by my side.”

Standing just feet away from him in this barren hovel that smells of rot and sulfur, I see that his hands are scarred and blistered. He doesn't take his eyes off of me, and I wonder, if this is the same man I met years ago, what he hides beneath his faceplate. Could it be more monstrous than this face he chooses to present?

He opens the door just wide enough for me to slip through, and I'm relieved to be back in the throng of scavs along the boulevard.

I don't know what will come of this bargain. I have saved my own life, but put others in danger. I'm still SpecOps, that remains my sworn allegiance, but this world is more complicated than blind duty affords. I push my way through the pack and try not to look over my shoulder.

It is to my relief that I find Samantha first.

“Have you seen Livia?” I ask.

“She's with Chae. But you really shouldn't be alone. Where's Z?”

“Who cares where that jerk is,” I say.

She smiles. “He's stubborn, for sure. Just stay with me, okay?”

Her face is full of kindness. I nod, feeling about six years old. When we get there, I may just take her up on her earlier offer to braid my hair. It for sure could use it. And then I remember that Hauser may consider her a rebel, too. I look behind me but don't see his massive frame. He is too good to be spotted so easily.

Navigating the free-for-all is easier with her. She's comfortable here and doesn't fight against the crowd like I do. She's part of it. “It's not so bad,” she says. “It's rough, but there's beautiful places, too. I'll show you. Wouldn't it be nice to have a new start?”

I hang on to her words. I want to believe in what she says. A place to stop running. It feels like a make-believe. It usually is.

I just can't turn that alert side of me off. I can't see the good in these people here. The world is divided, even down here.

I stick my fingers in my ears for just a second. My flaw means I'm hearing everything way too loudly. This massive wall of noise. It masks the danger we're in.

It could even mask blaster fire.

The crowd's trying to trample me. I don't know if it's the change in oxygen levels down here or just the air quality, but I'm getting light-headed. I make it a priority to draw in deep breathes, but even hugging the side of the marketplace, I keep getting knocked about, the scav's sweaty flesh pressing against me as they fall, the smell intensified by their fear. They don't mean to kill me, but they will if I continue to do nothing.

They're scurrying, trying to get to safety. And I still can't pinpoint what's causing the panic.

Everyone was just fighting for my attention; now they're just fighting.

I lose myself, trying to understand the words jabbering out of all their mouths. There's a hard tug on my elbow.

“C'mon,” Marley says. He's not messing about.

Then I hear a sound that no human could make and lose track of what I was doing and only want to flee. Marley is far ahead of me already, his legs carrying him fast in the opposite direction. Will time reveal all these rebels to be such cowards?

The second howl doesn't come as much of a surprise, even more savage and desperate. It hungers. It has hungered before. What sort of creature has been bred down here?