PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
PALLAS STATION
478.2.6.03
I emerged from the vestibule to the sight of a single marine, who rotated from scanning the hall to study my face.
“You are Quincy,” I said, though there was no reason for my surprise.
“Always have been.” A smile appeared behind the bearded marine’s familiar stubble. “You look better.”
“I am much improved,” I began, but echoing footsteps stopped me.
The marine’s attention zoomed up the hall, and anxiety imprisoned the air in my lungs. He hit a different channel, spoke, then relaxed visibly. “It’s all good, Recorder-who-isn’t.”
Four armed and familiar figures in mottled grey-and-black suits turned the corner. My heart both rose and fell. My friends should not have come, for if I was incorrect, my miscalculations would again place them in danger. Even so, their presence strengthened me.
“Overkill, Jordan,” the bearded marine said. “We’re just going down the hall.”
Venetia Jordan’s voice arrived before she did. “Being prepared, Quincy. If this goes well, we head out immediately to get that equipment. If it doesn’t . . .” She drummed gloved fingers on her weapon as my friends came to a stop at my side.
The bearded marine—Quincy—asked, “Recorder-who-isn’t, you sure you’re up to this?”
“I believe I am.”
“I don’t like it,” Nate began, but Alec interrupted him.
“Tim, we talked about—”
“I know,” Nate said, his tenor lower than usual. “The thing is, I . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he did, it seemed the light had dimmed. When he opened them again, they locked onto my own, and the hall narrowed until all I saw was Nathaniel. “Last few times, when you figured out what needed to be done, I wasn’t there.”
Uncertainty puckered my forehead.
“You were right about Ross,” he clarified. “When we reached Lunar One and you called me and J, I didn’t understand the urgency. I should’ve known. I should have dropped everything.”
“You could not have known, my heart,” I said, even though they all could hear us, “since I did not explain.”
“You weren’t right about running off to find Kye and Freddie without backup,” Zhen stated. “That was a blasted stupid thing to do.”
The bearded marine grunted his agreement, and I could not dispute their assertions.
Zhen scowled. “We wanted to find Kyleigh and Freddie, too. You should’ve trusted us. We can’t show up if you don’t say anything.”
My thoughts thickened into slush. Had there been a solid reason for my impulsive actions in leaving with Lorik without telling anyone? I could not remember.
“But this time”—Nate’s voice drew my focus—“we’re here when you call.”
I opened my mouth, then clamped it shut before I confessed that I had not contacted the marines myself. Only Kyleigh’s sudden wakefulness had prevented me from acting without them.
“But I still don’t like it,” Nate added.
“None of us do,” Alec put in.
“Thing is, sweetheart, I trust you. As much as I dislike that drone, if things go sideways, I want to be there.”
Shame at my omitted truth silenced me momentarily, but when I regained my voice, all I said was “There will not be much you can do.” My gaze left his to meet the others’. “None of you.”
“We know,” he said.
“We’ll make it work,” Jordan stated.
For the next ten minutes, while we waited for Kyleigh and the medic, the bearded marine and my friends discussed the most direct route to Dr. SahnVeer’s laboratory from the storage room. When the topic of conversation strayed to sporting events, my attention wandered, finally landing on the light over the door. The others, however, remained alert, scanning the hall’s ceiling and corners.
The light turned green, and the medic exited the vestibule, Kyleigh, her face flushed, following in her wake.
Jordan’s golden-brown eyes focused like lasers on the medic. She asked, “Is everything all right, Kye?”
Kyleigh’s mouth pinched, but she nodded.
I did not believe her, but Jordan gave a crisp nod. “Then, Quincy, lead the way.”
Though he had asserted that he trusted me, I expected Nate to argue when I told them all to wait in the corridor while I entered the small storage room alone to activate the drone.
Instead, he touched my hand. “I’ll be here waiting, sweetheart. You do what you . . .”
“What you need to,” Jordan finished for him.
The bearded marine tapped a sequence on the numerical pad and pulled the door open. Motion detectors triggered the single overhead light. It flickered, casting puddles of shadows under the shelves and the drones, which huddled along the walls like giant mechanical eggs. My mouth went as dry as Pallas’s red surface dust.
The marine checked the small room, which was barely bigger than the holding cell on Agamemnon, then set his gloved hand on my shoulder. The expression on his face was reminiscent of the one he had when he told the others that Kyleigh and I were his daughters’ ages and he did not approve of us being on Pallas.
“It’s clear, Recorder-who-isn’t. Be careful.”
“If you aren’t out in five minutes, we’re coming in after you,” Alec said.
“It might take longer. I cannot know.” I tapped the side of my helmet. “I shall relate any pertinent information and return as soon as I can.”
“If it—” Kyleigh hesitated and gulped a breath. “What do we do if it goes crazy and hurts you?”
I gestured to the medic. “She is watching my vital signs. You will know if the situation devolves. Should I lose consciousness, do not open the door. The drone is not fully charged. Without additional demands, it should power down in two hours, three at the longest. Do not retrieve me until then.”
Nate blanched.
“However, should the drone function within acceptable parameters, given adequate power, we should be ready to access the equipment at once.”
“There are portable chargers in the closet.” The bearded marine’s glance darted sideways into the room. “We filled them up as soon as power came back on. Had a few arguments about whether or not it was safe to keep the drones in there with them, but Daniel said they wouldn’t charge themselves.”
“Once inert, they cannot,” I confirmed. “Even when active, they do not have the self-determination to seek power unless so commanded. If—when—I emerge with the drone, please remember to refrain from mentioning either former Recorder’s knowledge of the Consortium. If you must mention them, be careful to use their new names. Do not allow either man near the drone as long as it is active. Guard your speech on all channels and frequencies, as the drone might pluck your words from the air.”
“Right.” Alec gave a sharp nod.
I paused by the room’s access panel. “Notify Jackson that communications will be compromised if this works.”
“Right away. Good luck.” The bearded marine flipped a switch on his wrist, and his mouth moved silently.
Nate’s voice was steady. “I’ll be here.”
The lines around Jordan’s eyes seemed at odds with her light tone. “Come back in one piece.”
“I will do my best.” There was naught left to do but cross the threshold. I closed the door behind me, and my helmet’s communication system magnified the lock’s click. As a precaution, I activated my external speaker, though I left the link to my friends open.
The drones crouched on the floor in even intervals. Ignoring the other four, I knelt by Lorik’s. The power indicator light blinked dull orange. I pulled my navy-blue datapad from my pocket and opened the drone’s panel. My breath came unevenly as I slid the datapad into a slot beside the black one that must have been Lorik’s own, closed the panel, and activated the drone. Even before it rose into the air, the drone’s orange-framed screen brightened.
As though from a distance, I heard the medic exclaim about fluctuating heart rate and blood pressure and a spike of cortisol. “. . . need to get her out of there—”
Jordan’s voice was brittle. “Step back from the access panel.”
>>Network not detected. Assigned Elder not detected, trailed across the screen.
External sounds faded as a sudden chill swept over me, as if my suit had malfunctioned. Had the drone not read the information on my datapad? The screen flashed again, and I held my breath.
>>Consortium device accepted. Enter CDN.
I exhaled with such force that my faceplate fogged, then entered my designation.
>>Unauthorized. Aberrant. Under supervision.
My skin prickled in anticipation of punishment, but I managed, “Yes.”
>>No chip detected.
“No.”
>>Aberrant, locate Elder Eta4513110-0197E.
“Deceased,” I said clearly.
The screen went blank, and the drone rose, though its arms remained in their folded cubes.
“What does she mean, ‘yes, no, deceased’?” the medic demanded over the communications link.
“Quiet,” Jordan said.
Unwilling to risk further confusion, I entered Lorik’s codes.
A rapid series of numbers and letters crossed the screen much too quickly for me to comprehend their meaning. The drone shot to shoulder level. A tendril unspooled and reached toward me. My hands shook as I pulled out the green datapad and accessed the data I had transferred, asserting the same information I had stowed inside the drone’s internal slot. The text slowed, and the tendril twined around my arm.
>>Codes accepted. Temporary access granted. Welcome, Aberrant Zeta4542910-9545E.