The Rift Uprising (29 page)

The first thing I hear is voices. They cut in and out as if I am listening to them on a cell phone with bad reception. I try to focus, though it's difficult because the sedatives are still fighting with my instincts and my senses. If I make a move to shake my head or open my eyes, whoever is talking will stop talking. That can't happen. I just need to concentrate without giving any clues away about me being conscious again. I zero in on the voices themselves, their tone and timbre. A male and female. Once I figure that out, I realize it's Edo and Applebaum. Are they really that dumb? Are they really going to have a conversation about me while I'm lying right here? I guess they are. The fact that they would be so incredibly shortsighted is something I can use to my advantage. They underestimate us Citadels, which seems impossible. They created us; they should know our limitations and where our strengths
lie, but I suppose they just look at us as weapons instead of people. How stupid. A gun doesn't change, but a teenager? That's all we do.

“So your theory is that the conditioning failed? Can that happen to all of them? Or is it just her?” I hear Applebaum say.

“It worked for years, Colonel. Every human has a unique body chemistry. I believe her tolerance for the medication simply became higher. Her case is an anomaly,” Edo says with confidence. I bet she doesn't like this line of questioning any more than I do. I hear Applebaum sigh and walk closer to me.

“Edo, your people swore up and down you could make the conditioning stick. You never thought to mention that anomalies could occur?” There is a faint tapping. Edo must be typing on her tablet. I kind of love the fact that she is not giving Applebaum her full attention.

“The statistical probability was so minute that no, we never thought it needed to be addressed. I'm as surprised by this as you. Think of all the thousands of working Citadels there are all over your Earth. This is the first time it's happened,” Edo argues. I seriously cannot believe they are having this conversation right here beside me, unless, of course, one of them
wants
me to hear it.

“So she doesn't know anything? This was a fluke?” I hear him ask with that same lick of condescension in his voice that never fails to set me on edge.

“I would not say that she knows nothing. Both Immigrant Ezra and Citadel Ryn are technically geniuses.” There was more
tap, tapping
on her tablet. “You are the one who put Ezra in front of a computer. You allowed him access to the data set we have been working on to solve our problems navigating The Rift. I can't say how much he gleaned from the information you gave him.”

It's kind of amazing how Edo is totally relieving herself of any responsibility. She is putting the entire thing squarely on Applebaum. She is a good liar. No, a great liar. I can't ever forget that.

“A bullet in his brain will solve that problem.”

It takes everything I have not to reach up and rip Applebaum's esophagus out of his throat when he says that. He wants to kill Ezra? I had always assumed he would just stick him back in the Village. Maybe they would rough him up a bit, let him spend some time in the brig, or both, just to intimidate him into being quiet. I never really imagined that Applebaum was a straight-up murderer. I force myself to remain calm. As bad as I want to protect Ezra, I have to play it cool. If I kill Applebaum now, well, I suppose that would make me a murderer, too. Is that what I am? I allow myself to linger on this moral dilemma for a moment. Ezra is innocent. Applebaum is not. Is it okay to kill someone who is guilty of terrible things? I'm sure Applebaum believes that he, too, is protecting innocent lives by taking out Ezra, so how guilty is he? And where is the line? I've killed people before, but only ones who were actively trying to hurt me. Now I have to question that, too. If we had been trained differently, if we spoke nonhuman Immigrant languages, how many lives could have been spared?

I wonder now if ARC could have turned adults into Citadels all along but chose not to because as children, we would be more likely to follow their insane orders without question.

Shit—I think we've been
Ender's Game
d.

There have been so many lies. I think back to that very first day when I found out what we were. Everyone just sat there as Seelye explained the new order of things. I know they drugged us with one of their brainwashing serums. I resisted
even then. My body went along, but I didn't like it. I fought it. I also know that my case is not an anomaly. Applebaum said that others had broken into the Village. We are not supposed to do that. The drugs are supposed to suppress that curiosity. It only makes sense, then, that I'm not the only one who has this freaky genetic quirk that gives me a higher tolerance. Clearly I'm not completely immune, otherwise I would not have been able to get physical with Ezra easily, but I had enough resistance to ignore orders.

I wonder how long it would have taken me to wake up to the truth without Ezra's intervention. My tolerance would have built up, obviously, but would I have been brave enough to question ARC's authority on my own? I want to think I would have been, but I also know that Ezra's feelings for me and the risks he's taken for me have given me a moral clarity I never had. The others like me haven't rocked the boat. So I have to believe it's Ezra. It's love that's made the difference. It sounds so cheesy in my own head, but it must be true. Love is more powerful than ARC, than their fucked-up brainwashing that allowed teenagers to keep such a huge secret from our parents. It's more powerful than all the Roone technology that's meant to keep us in line. It isn't my tolerance that makes me different. It's the fact that I may well be the only Citadel on Earth who's allowed herself to fall in love and be loved in return.

Wow.

“So what do we do?” Applebaum asks, and I know by the way his voice has carried that he is now looking directly at me.

“I assure you that we can erase any memory she has of this experience and recondition her to be more compliant, but it might take an extended time period. After that, we simply increase the dosage of the drug each day in the protein shake,” Edo says flatly as I try not to wince. “The only problem we have
now is explaining Ryn's absence to her family and friends. Of course, that is out of my purview,” Edo says deferentially.

“That won't be a problem. Just get started as soon as you can.” I can hear as Applebaum begins to walk away.

“And the boy? We could try something similar with him. He does have a valuable mind. It would be unfortunate to waste such an asset.”

Thank you, Edo!
Applebaum doesn't answer right away.

“No. We'll interrogate him, find out if he managed to use that genius brain of his to figure anything out that might be of use, then we'll eliminate him. It would be too dangerous to let him live.”

“Whatever you think is best, then,” Edo tells him passively. At least she tried. She has to get points for that. When I hear the door open, then shut, I keep up the knocked-out routine, thinking about what my next move should be.

“I know you are awake, Citadel Ryn. The moment they wheeled you in here I gave you a shot to counter the effect of the tranquilizer.”

I open my eyes and sit up quickly. Maybe a little too quickly—my head spins and I have to exhale loudly to get my bearings. I look down. I am wearing a hospital gown, but at least I have my underwear on still. I hate the idea of being totally naked and vulnerable to any member of the ARC staff.

Edo takes out a penlight and grabs hold of my head in her small hands, shining the light into my pupils. “You have a problem, a serious problem, and I am going to offer you a solution, though you will not like it.”

I move my head away and swing my legs over the bed. “Is the problem the fact that I know you lied to me the day I confronted you? That I thought you might have been the
one
person in this whole friggin' place who I could trust, and now
I don't think I can trust anyone here?
Jesus
. Why in the hell didn't you tell me?”

“I was going to. Eventually. You didn't need to hear that information all at once. The fact that you and the Immigrant boy have figured something out that no other Citadel knows is significant. My instincts about you were right. You're the one we've been waiting for. You may not trust me, but I trust you,” Edo says with as much sincerity as I think she is capable of.

“Oh my God. Really? I'm ‘the one'? Ha!” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster through the fog of the sedatives I'm fighting off. “Don't put that shit on me. We both know that's not true. I'm one of many, even if Applebutt hasn't figured it out. None of this would have happened without Ezra. Maybe
he's
‘the One.'”

Edo gives me a considered look. I don't break eye contact. If anything, I stare at her harder. “All right,” she concedes. “I apologize if I sounded overly dramatic. You are not
the
one, but you are the first, which makes you important. I don't know how to adequately express how vital that is.”

I hold up my left hand to Edo's face and then snap my fingers back on my palm in a dismissive gesture. “I don't know what you're talking about. I don't care. You operate on this fucked-up level of, like, reverse transparency that I cannot deal with. I have to get Ezra before he's murdered, okay? I don't have time for whatever crazy you're selling today.”

I hear Edo sigh, a winded whirring that sounds like a broken machine. “I understand that. However, it is entirely too risky for one of your dramatic fighting escapades. There is only one truly safe way out of here. And it starts with knowing you have more time than you think. Ezra will not be executed immediately. You must be smart now, as smart as I believe you to be. You must be methodical and put your emotions away.”

“You don't need to tell me how to be a soldier. I know how to do that,” I snap at her. I swing my legs around and try to put my weight on them. It feels good to stand. Even with bare feet, I feel stronger.

“But you don't know
why
you need to be a soldier.”

I fight the urge to scream. The only things keeping me from bursting through that door and finding Ezra are her assurance that he's okay for now, the fact that I can't really burst out of anything, and the dawning reality that she might be right. I can't trust her, but I also can't afford not to at least hear what she has to say. If I was right in telling my team that something big was about to happen, clearly ARC's reasons behind this whole situation could be key. I grit my teeth, but eventually say, “Go on.”

“The thing is, I think you already know part of it,” Edo says. “I know what information Ezra stole. I know what he read and I'm fairly certain that, between the two of you, you figured out that we have a device capable of navigating the Rifts.”

“Yes—we put that together. And I'm pretty sure I know why the Roones would want to navigate the Rifts—because it's a way home. What I don't get, what I can't imagine, is why ARC wants to be able to go into the Rifts. What are they going to do? Colonize other Earths? Steal technology from them? What exactly is the plan? I mean, if it was noble, if they meant to return all the Immigrants back to their own homes, then we would have known.” The dizziness has passed and my eyes can focus fully.

“I assume
all
of those things will be happening. Immigrants will be returned home and, knowing ARC, different versions of Earth will be infiltrated.”

“And you're allowing that to happen. No—you're
facilitating
it.” I sigh and shake my head. “So getting home is worth any
price? I get that ARC doesn't seem to have a conscience, but the question is, do you?”

Edo places her tablet on a table beside the bed. She stands before me with her tiny frame, looking so much smaller than she ever has before. “When we first arrived here, we couldn't have known where our work would lead us. You have to understand—and I must be blunt, so I apologize in advance—but to us, humans are little more than barbarians. You are a violent race grasping for power. Some of your own grandparents were born during a time of a terrible war where millions died horribly, simply for choosing to worship one of your Gods in a way that their persecutors felt made them inferior. That's a living memory for your most elderly, not the distant past.” Edo walks over to the cabinet beside the bed and opens it.

I close my eyes and grind my teeth in frustration. “Edo, the Holocaust was a terrible thing, but I'd like to think we've learned from that as a species, grown from it.” I do not want to talk about history. I want answers about the here and now.

“But you haven't. Genocide continues to this day among your people. Those being murdered are poor and hail from less developed nations, and for some reason that matters less, which I find even more disturbing. Even as we are speaking right now, there are any number of groups that would love nothing more than to destroy this country and everyone in it based on religious differences. There has been some progress, but it is marginal compared to what you are capable of.” Edo opens the door of the cabinet and hands me a field uniform. “All we ever wanted was to go home. But we are only a few, while humans number in the billions. We have had to work inside a very flawed system. The Citadels were created to be
peacekeepers, but even the vision of what you could be was corrupted by people like Applebaum and Christopher Seelye. We are prisoners. We have no power here.”

I take the uniform and slide it up over my body. I feel a hundred times better once I have it on, more like myself, more capable of doing what needs to be done. I check my flak pocket. The implant is still there as I expected. Edo would never willingly offer that information up to Applebaum, considering she's the one who removed it. “But you really don't care how barbaric we are if it helps you to get home. In fact, it kind of looks like you're using our weaknesses against us. That doesn't sound very enlightened or noble to me. You talk a big talk, but really what you are saying is that the end justifies the means. Maybe we aren't so different after all.”