Traitor (Rebel Stars Book 2) Read online

  MacAdams rubbed his bare scalp. "I know somebody who works for the Office. If Toman's willing to dig a little deeper into his pocket, I can get us in."

  * * *

  "And what," Ingram said, "is the exact nature of your interest in this information?"

  The three of them exchanged glances. Ingram was practically a stranger. The superior of MacAdams' friend at the OHS. His VP position meant they could rely on him to have access to what they needed, but it also meant he might have only allowed them in to find out what they knew.

  MacAdams leaned against the wall, watching the narrow-boned man from across the room. They'd rented a gray room for the occasion—almost as secure as a white room, but you could bring limited amounts of your own gear inside.

  "Our mutual friend claimed you have doubts about OHS' core mission," MacAdams said. "So do we."

  Ingram licked his lips. Everything about him was thin, delicate, like a butterfly or a deep sea shrimp. "I suppose that, if I'm ever to do anything about these doubts, it will necessitate absorbing some risk. Very well. It would be virtually impossible to get the files from OHS directly. The building and its network are designed to let nothing sensitive escape. However, I happen to know that my superior officer has a set of documents in her apartment." His smile was as thin as his limbs. "Where security is rather less strict."

  "What kind of network is she running?" Rada said.

  "Oh, these files aren't networked. They're on safepaper. Their contents won't display without a code. Any attempt to access them remotely or break their encryption will cause them to erase themselves. Stealing them outright is not an option, either, as she must not know the files have been taken."

  "So what are we supposed to do, memorize them?" Webber said. "How about we skip the heist and you just tell us what's in them?"

  He produced a device and slid it across the table. "This is the device that produced the documents. It's keyed to the saper. It can copy the files without causing them to destroy themselves. Oh, and it also has the codes to her security system. And the specifications for the safe the files are contained in."

  Rada examined the device. "Been preparing for this?"

  "There is something wrong with what we're doing here. I wanted to be prepared to expose it when the time was right."

  Webber laughed. "Like when someone came along with a fat wad of cash?"

  "I don't want payment. It would be too easy to track back to me." Ingram's face was deadly serious. "This is far more important than money. Children's health is at stake."

  They ironed out a few more details—Ingram had access to his superior's schedule, and knew Ms. Astur would be out the following evening—and went their separate ways. They had a lot of equipment to pick up in the next 24 hours. Fortunately, they were on the Locker, where you could get anything if you had the cash.

  The following evening, they waited in the car outside Astur's building. As the station lights were dimming to night, she exited the apartment, red hair flowing behind her, long legs swishing in a sleek blue dress. Though she was Ingram's boss, she was at least a decade younger. Rada supposed ruthlessness knew no age.

  They picked up their bags and crossed the street. MacAdams waved Ingram's device at the front door, unlocking it. They took the elevator to the 19th floor. At Astur's door, MacAdams fiddled with Ingram's device. The door unlatched with a soft beep. Inside, a panel flashed on the wall. MacAdams had memorized the security code; he tapped it into the panel, which dimmed. Lights came on across the apartment.

  "All clear?" Rada said.

  MacAdams pocketed the device. "It's sleeping like a baby. Let's do work."

  The apartment was so minimalist and white Rada found herself squinting against the glare. The safe was embedded in the bedroom wall. Ingram had no codes for it.

  Rada inspected it with her device. Finished, she stood, wincing. "We're going to have to blow it open."

  "So much for getting in without Astur's knowledge," Webber said.

  "We'll take something else. Make it look like we were after valuables. Throw off the scent."

  She dug through her bag, removing a small box of BlastIt!. The dense, gray compound was like rubbery clay. She'd used it often enough in her mining days to be something of a pro, but that had been on rock and minerals, not hardened metal safes. She set her device to analyzing the structure, running a simultaneous net search for schematics of the safe's model.

  The apartment lights blanked off. Her net connection dropped. Across the room, another device glowed softly from the wall.

  Rada popped to her feet. "She's got a second system?"

  MacAdams dashed toward the wall. "Ingram didn't say nothin' about that." He gaped at the device. "I don't even see where to input a code!"

  Webber came up behind him, bumping him out of the way. "You're kidding. This thing's a swipe?"

  "This place is locked down tight," Rada said. "That's going to include the front door."

  "You worry about the safe."

  "If you can't shut that thing down, we'll have to blow our way out. I can't waste the BlastIt! on the safe."

  Webber glanced over his shoulder, silhouetted by the device's glow. "I said I got it!"

  She met his gaze, prepared to argue, then nodded sharply. "Then that's all I need to hear."

  He turned back to his device, tapping, throwing an odd purplish light over the wall. She regarded her device. There was no exact formula for how much BlastIt! she was going to need, so she was going to have to trust herself, too. She molded it into the minimal seam.

  As she finished, the lights came back up. Over at the wall, Webber kicked his feet in a victory jig.

  "How'd you do that?" MacAdams said.

  "It's a swiper. You draw a pattern, it turns off. All I did was check the oil stains her finger left on the pad."

  "That's it? That's some amateur hour shit."

  "It is a backup system."

  Rada rose from the safe. "Into the bathroom. Time to rock and roll."

  They piled into the spacious bathroom, taking cover inside the stone-lined shower. Rada rolled her lip between her teeth. "This could be loud. We'll need to be fast."

  She punched the button. A hollow bang rattled the bedroom. It wasn't as riotous as she'd feared, but unless the apartment was soundproofed, there would be no mistaking it for anything but an explosion. In the bedroom, harsh gray smoke roiled in the air. MacAdams stripped a sheet from the bed and flapped it around. Damp towel tied around her nose and mouth, Rada moved to the safe. Its contents appeared to be intact: two devices, a few small wooden boxes, a toppled jewelry stand, and a black folder.

  She removed the folder. Ingram's device pinged, recognizing and activating the saper. As she removed the glossy sheets, they cohered into images. Her jaw fell open. "What in the hell is this?"

  "That," Webber said, peering over her shoulder, "is a penis. And it appears to be attached to Ingram."

  The pictures were taken from a variety of angles and lighting, but each one featured the same subject. It was as spindly as the rest of him.

  Face burning, Rada tore open the wooden boxes, hunting for documents, but they held earrings, bracelets, and rings. Motion caught the corner of her eye. One of the pictures had gone blank.

  She whirled on Webber. "Don't erase them! We don't know—"

  He held up Ingram's device. "It's doing it on its own!"

  "This is a setup." MacAdams loomed over them. "Ingram sent us to do his dirty work. We won't find anything here. But I got an alternate solution: we pound it out of him."

  "I thought you'd turned a new leaf," Webber said.

  MacAdams flexed his hand into a fist. "The old ones are still there at the bottom of the pile."

  Half an hour later, they were banging on the door of Ingram's apartment. To Rada's surprise, he opened the door.

  "I gather by your expressions that—"

  MacAdams bulled inside, hoisting him by the collar and sticking him against the wall. "Talk. Or y
ou start losing your teeth."

  The man swallowed, face red from the tension on his neck. "Show me the device."

  The marine held a stiff forefinger to Ingram's face. "You want me to start with your eyes instead?"

  "I said show me the device!"

  MacAdams actually flinched. He narrowed his eyes. Without lowering Ingram from the wall, he accepted the device from Webber and handed it to the spidery man.

  Ingram flipped through it, smirking. "You really did it. Excellent work."

  "Explain," Rada said. "Or we'll erase the real thing, too."

  "Once upon a time, Ms. Astur and I were equals here. Over the course of our work together, she convinced me she…desired me. She requested certain pictures. Then, when our superior stepped down, she used those same pictures to convince me to not pursue our superior's position. I have a family."

  "Then maybe it's time they learned what kind of man you really are."

  "One who honors his word," Ingram said fiercely. His fingers played over the device's screen. "The device is yours. The files on it will give you ample insight into the Office of Health and Safety." He turned his gaze on MacAdams. "Now, would you mind returning my feet to the floor?"

  Rada grabbed the device. A new section had appeared. Documents, images, videos. "Let him go."

  MacAdams lowered him gently to the floor and brushed imaginary lint from the man's shoulders.

  Ingram tugged his collar side to side. "This is all I can get you. I can't be associated with the blowback. But I do hope these files are of use. Our original mission was corrupted long ago."

  She thanked him and departed, still reeling over how things had played out. On their way back to a gray room to check out the files in safety, Webber couldn't stop laughing.

  "Grow up," MacAdams said, but he was smiling too.

  "Sorry," Webber said. "But that guy's unit might have just saved humanity."

  Rada said, "Every man's dream, right?"

  They made their way through security protocol and were left alone in a plain gray room. Rada copied the files to Webber and MacAdams and started triaging. The docs were heavy on technical details and administrative discussion. Figuring LOTR would do better with it than she would, she Needled the contents to the Hive.

  "Check this out." Webber showed her his screen. It was a schematic of a vaccine. One made to bond with the nervous system of children. "There's more. Here's the original design. And here's the one they're using now." He dragged the second image over the first. They aligned without overlap, identical. "It's been thirty years since they started working with this, but it's exactly the same as when they started. Remind you of anything?"

  Rada's head buzzed so hard she could hardly hear herself speak. "Just like artificial gravity. We've had it for generations, but the engineering's virtually unmodified from the original design."

  "Because we didn't come up with it. Marcus said it came from the Swimmers."

  "You two see aliens wherever you look," MacAdams said. "Not everything can be an interstellar plot."

  Rada pulled up a slew of graphics of test subjects. "Do you see the way it incorporates into their nervous systems? Seamless. Undetectable. We don't have anything else like that."

  "Why would the Swimmers give us a vaccine like this? It caused a few deaths, but according to the records on Quarantine, it saved thousands of lives."

  "I don't know. Why have they given us anything?"

  "To butter us up," Webber blurted. "The other stuff, it was all a Trojan horse. Valuable technology meant to get us used to accepting their gifts without question."

  MacAdams folded his arms. "This is getting highly speculative."

  "Think about it, man! Why did the original Panhandler virus fail to exterminate us?"

  "Because some people were immune to it," Rada said. "The aliens have less genetic diversity than humans. They weren't expecting survivors."

  Webber wagged his head up and down. "So this time, they ensure there won't be. By using a vaccine—mandatory for all children—that makes us vulnerable to a virus."

  They lapsed into silence. Webber glanced between them. "Are you surprised by the idea? Or the fact that I came up with it?"

  Rada burst into frantic laughter. "Heavy doses of both. Even if the Trojan horse angle is a little loose, we've got clear evidence of covert corporate interference in the Locker. If this doesn't convince Kansas to team up, nothing will."

  She made a quick recording of their deductions and Needled that to the Hive, too. Followed by a message to Admiral Kansas. It was after 10 PM, but the woman told them to come see her immediately. At the South Street office, a security detail brought them up to the marbled penthouse.

  Kansas sat on her desk, swinging her legs, heels rattling its plastic side. "Did your bossman see reason? Ready to hand over those factories?"

  "We've figured out what's happening here." Rada advanced across the spacious room. "Thirty years ago, a company called Horton/Kolt helped establish your Office of Health and Safety. Their intentions were noble. However, we believe the technology they brought here was given to them by the Swimmers. That company was since bought out by Valiant Enterprises—who is now a division of FinnTech."

  "The same people who mean to crash your party for good," Webber added.

  Kansas' legs had gone still. "I hear a lot of noise, but I'm still not feeling the music. From what you're saying, it sounds like Valiant is trying to help the Locker, not hurt it."

  "Years ago, maybe they were trying to help," Rada said. "But I promise you, that ended the day they signed up with Finn. Furthermore, we have reason to believe this is all part of a new Swimmer invasion."

  "About time those guys got their asses back in gear." The words were as dry as the air in a two-bit asteroid habitat, but they couldn't mask the woman's uncertainty. As if fueled by that uncertainty, every line in Kansas' face went tight with fury. "I won't be roped into this war you want so badly to come true. You come here and you want to put the entire Locker at risk? Then we deserve compensation. Let's see how much your employer is willing to pay for your safe return."

  She jerked her chin up. From the walls, troopers in white and blue hardshell armor moved forward, boots clacking on the marble floor.

  14

  The Locker hummed like it never had before. On the streets, they talked about a Blackwings counter-revolution, but talk was cheap. Ced had learned that lives were, too, but the fact the 'Wings weren't willing to put any on the line said it all.

  At the bidding for orphaned kids, a handful of guardians sold to whoever offered the fattest purse, but most accepted a lower sum to place their wards with a crew that wouldn't crush them beneath two tons of debt. Within a week of Kansas' announcement, Dark Star, the Sabers, and a gaggle of minor-league crews had done away with their care debt, too. This upped the grumbling from the Blackwings and friends. Two fistfights ensued, but if anything, that was fewer than normal.

  Change was at hand. It was what Ced had wanted for years. He should have been happy. Problem was, if that change wasn't coming from within the Locker? He knew it wouldn't last.

  With no recording of the conversation between Kansas and her anonymous benefactor, he didn't have much to go on. He didn't want to go to someone else for help, either. Not without more evidence. Not when Kansas was so close to fixing so much. For a few days, he moved in an anxious daze. A limbo of doubt. He'd wake in the middle of the night, sheets drenched with sweat. He watched the office for unfamiliar faces, anyone who might be leaning on Kansas, but all he saw were Dragons.

  One night, as he slept, he gasped so hard he choked. He sat up, sweating and coughing. "Mom?"

  Shadows swept the walls. He didn't want to turn on the light—he wanted to stay in that moment, to sink into it like warm water—but he knew he had to.

  There was nothing there. He was alone. Just like he'd always been.

  That morning, he found Kansas in the hall and grabbed her arm. "We need to talk."

  Her
gaze moved across his face. "You look like shit."

  "Your office, Kansas."

  The corner of her mouth twitched. She headed to her office, closing the door behind him. "What do you want?"

  "I need to know what we're doing."

  "Sitting across from each other looking incredibly serious. Or did you mean something else?"

  "What's your plan for the Blackwings?"

  She shrugged. "Reforming the recruitment system was a shiv to their ribs. There's two ways this plays out: either they sit tight and bleed out, or they come for us. Try to undo what's been done."

  "And once that's settled," he said. "Then what?"

  "Then we've won."

  "No debts to repay? No promises to fulfill? You've had a lot of help to get here."

  Her face stayed blank. "That's all been paid off. You know me. Do you really think I'd let myself owe anything to anyone?"

  "I think you'll do whatever it takes to sit on the throne," he smiled. "What's my role in this?"

  "What do you want it to be?"

  "I want to be partners. Like before. I'm not asking to share your crown, but I would like to be your right hand. I want to know everything that's going on here."

  Kansas tilted her head. "Why did it take you this long to ask?"

  "Do we have a deal?"

  "You saved me once," she said. "Do you remember? The woman in the street with the knife? I thought there was no way out. But you showed me the way."

  "One last thing." His heart did its best to knock down his ribs. "What about us?"

  "Us? You and me?"

  "You and me."

  A crooked smile stole over her face. "Haven't you figured it out yet? You can't get anything unless you're willing to reach for it." She tapped her device. The door locked with a click. She stood. "Now lie down on the floor."

  * * *

  His shoulders felt lighter. The air smelled cleaner. He wasn't free of his doubts—he'd heard what he'd heard—but he was no longer on the outside looking in. He was by her side. Whatever came next, he could help her navigate out of it. Like he'd always done.