CHAPTER 11

The children of the elite enjoyed a breakfast menu so extravagant it seemed almost satirical. While the students in the main dormitories feasted on prosaic meals of textured soy protein and legumes, the buffet before Mineko contained such steaming luxuries as Pan-Fried Faux Pork with Cashew and Miniature Leek in Black Bean Sauce. Why a miniature leek? Did it taste any better for being smaller?

Mineko took a container of edamame, and the kitchen hand gave her a curious look. “I’ve never seen you take the beans before, Ms. Tamura.”

“I’m trying new things.” Mineko ladled rice onto her plate and covered it with a helping of the mock pork and sauce. With the bowl in one hand and the plate held precariously in the other, she made her way to a little table in the corner.

Beyond the nearest window, the morning sky was clear, and the blossom trees were still. She chewed on a soft piece of mock pork while skimming through her study notes. Nothing occupied her thoughts, however, but the cherubic face of Callie Roux.

A throat cleared, and Mineko looked up. Lachlan stood before her, his face made even more unpleasant by its broad smile.

“Good morning, Mineko,” he said. “Enjoying your breakfast?”

Mineko forced herself to swallow. Lachlan never came to campus. Was she in trouble? “My breakfast is fine.”

“Mind if I sit down?”

“Not at all,” she said while trying to wish him out of existence.

Lachlan drew out the opposite chair. “How’s the exam preparation?”

“Fine. Why are you here?”

“Last night, you and Wren spoke privately.” Lachlan reclined in the chair, and it gave an unhappy creak. It clearly hadn’t been designed with his imposing build in mind. “Did she say anything I ought to know about?”

“I’m unaware of what you ought to know about, Lachlan.”

Lachlan took an edamame pod and frowned at it. “These don’t look very appealing.”

“Please don’t play with my food.”

Students drifted by, laughing and chatting. Lachlan gave them a quick, suspicious look, as if there might be revolutionaries concealed among them. “You and Dr. Wren,” he said. “Would you say that you got along well?”

Before answering, Mineko took a quick mouthful of food—no point letting it get cold—and swallowed. “We have similar interests. She’s a neuroscientist, and I study Neuroethics. So we had plenty to talk about.”

“I’m certain you did. I escorted her home after dinner, and during her nervous conversation, she mentioned how impressed she was with you. ‘A remarkable young woman.’ That was her estimation.” Lachlan popped one of the beans into his mouth. “These are very salty, aren’t they?”

“I couldn’t say. You interrupted me before I could try any.”

Lachlan smiled and split another pod between his fingers. “As you’re in a blunt mood this morning, I’ll treat you in kind. I want you to spy on Valerie Wren for us.”

Mineko stared at him, fork still raised. Of all the reasons Lachlan might have been here, that was one she had never anticipated. “Spy on her?”

“I was going to sugarcoat it by suggesting you befriend her, but I can see you’re an adult now and deserve adult explanations.” Lachlan leaned closer. “She’s a reclusive woman with no friends or immediate family. That means we have no straightforward way of evaluating her moods and behavior. But perhaps you, with your disarming demeanor, can find a way to uncover her private side.”

The thought of exploiting Valerie’s friendliness soured the previously pleasant taste in Mineko’s mouth. “I’m not a spy. Is my father aware you’re asking this of me?”

“He tells me, again and again, that you’re destined to the business and should be involved. I can’t see why he would object.”

Lachlan’s close proximity was putting Mineko off her food, and she poked her breakfast one last time before putting down her fork. “It’s unethical. You’re asking me to betray her confidence.”

“That’s an odd comment from an ethics student. I’m asking you to help me support a fellow Codist’s well-being. That kind of solidarity is essential to the functioning of our ordered society. Trust me, you don’t want to get that one wrong on the exam.”

There was no way out—Lachlan had her comprehensively trapped. If she refused his offer, she would seem disloyal, and the last thing she needed was to raise any suspicions.

“I just meant that I’d feel bad about it,” Mineko said. “Dr. Wren seems very nice.”

“Understandable. But you’d be making your parents proud, and you’d be serving the Code. Think of that instead.”

Easier to think of throttling him. “What exactly would you have me to do?”

Lachlan took a data drive from his pocket and placed it beside her plate. “Dr. Wren’s security file is on this drive. Look it over and then establish contact. Find a way to secure her confidence, at least to some small extent. I fully expect her to be loyal and dedicated, but she’s leading a very important project. It’s a stressful position. We need to think of her long-term welfare.”

As she pondered, Mineko chewed on a mouthful of cold rice. This might give her a chance to learn more about Project Sky, and she could choose herself what information to leak to Lachlan. Besides, if he hadn’t picked her, he would have selected someone else. At least this way, she had a chance to protect Valerie if protection were needed.

She finished her rice. “Thank you, Lachlan, for trusting me with this responsibility. I’ll do what I can.”W

“Good day, Mineko. And don’t worry if this cuts into your study time.” Lachlan winked. “Exam results can be quite flexible.”

He departed the dining room while the students around them fixed their eyes on their food. Every Codist, no matter how honest or devoted, knew better than to look too long at someone in a black uniform.

As she scooped up more rice with her fork, Mineko glanced at her blue sleeve. How long until she too was forced to wear that sinister black?

* * *

Back in the familiar isolation of her room, Mineko inserted the drive into her tablet. It contained a single document. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a security file—sometimes her father left them open on his computer—but it was the first time she’d known the person in question.

The attached photo showed Valerie frowning at the camera from beneath blunt bangs, looking every bit as nervous as she had at dinner. She was forty-three years old, had been born in Foundation Hospital Three and her parents had both been scientists. One a physicist, one a biochemist. That was to be expected. Codist children usually followed the career paths of their parents, graduating with the same degrees and working in the same departments. A fact Mineko was acutely aware of.

The file listed every detail of Valerie’s career and education, including her grades, which put Mineko’s to shame. Intriguingly, Valerie had worked in Reintegration for two years as a chief technical advisor; the job had ended with her resignation, after which she had moved to a less-prestigious position as a scientific advisor for Hospital Two’s neurosurgery ward.

Project Sky appeared as the final note on her career timeline, accompanied by the title of her new role: Project Supervisor. Mineko prodded for further details, and a message flashed.

Subject offered position due to excellent qualifications, deep knowledge of relevant field and lack of close social ties.

Lack of social ties? A reference to the secret nature of the Project? Or, as Valerie had feared, had she been selected because her isolation made it easier to eliminate her if necessary?

The final section, Security Concerns, was blank. Of course. Nobody with a questionable history would have been assigned to a project of such importance. No, Code Intel would endorse someone like Valerie Wren: a brilliant scientist with a clean record, no close friends and a career that, until now, had been less impressive than her credentials, save for a brief stint in Reintegration.

Mineko gave her nose a thoughtful rub. How was she supposed to find enough common ground to befriend a reclusive woman twice her age? Even though she and Valerie had spoken candidly the night before, Mineko was Gaspar Tamura’s daughter.

Still, there was no harm in trying.

The file included Valerie’s personal number. Mineko navigated to her comm client and added Valerie as a new contact, prodding each digit in. Two more quick taps began the dialing process. It was probably the wrong time to call, but if she didn’t do it now, it would be on her mind all day.

As the sixth beep chimed, it occurred to Mineko that she hadn’t prepared anything to say. Maybe it wasn’t too late to—

Click. “Hello?”

“Um, hello, Dr. Wren. It’s Mineko Tamura. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Oh! Mineko! I’m just on the train now, going to work… I, uh, how did you find my number?” Her skittishness was still endearing.

“It’s in the directory. Do you mind me calling you?”

“No, not at all. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, it’s exam time…”

“Oh, is it? You poor thing. I remember how much stress I went through with my exams.” Valerie gave a brittle laugh. “Of course, that was me. You’re a very clever girl, and I’m sure you’re quite confident.”

“Actually, I’m a little apprehensive. There’s a section on Reintegration in the exam, and I don’t feel ready for it.”

“Oh, Reintegration. I remember you and I talked about that briefly. As it happens, I know quite a bit about it.”

Mineko shook her head silently. This woman was so leadable. “I hoped that might be the case. I was wondering if you’d help me study. If I could just discuss the material with you, I’m sure I’d learn a lot.”

“Oh, absolutely, I’d be—”

The calm voice of the train interrupted her: “Five minutes until arrival at Laboratory Two.”

“Sorry,” said Valerie, followed by a breathless, nervous giggle. “I’m almost there. No, I’d be happy to. Would you like to talk by message or in person?”

This had been too easy. Maybe Mineko really was destined for Code Intel. “I find it easier talking face-to-face.”

“In that case, you could come over for dinner. Whenever you like. It won’t be fancy, and my place is a little messy, but…” Valerie gave another of her odd, skittish laughs. “Well, there’s a nice view from the balcony.”

“Is tonight okay? The exam is next week.”

“Yes, yes, tonight would be fine. I’m quite looking forward to it. It’s nice to be remembered. Um.” Valerie cleared her throat. “Well, I have to disembark soon, so I’d better say goodbye. But how lovely to hear from you.”

Mineko smiled. It really was sweet how hopeless Valerie proved to be. “I need your address, remember. And a time would be good.”

“Oh! Of course! I live in Urban Enclave Eight. It’s a tower residence, Tower Three. I have the fourteenth level. And, uh, six PM?”

“Thank you, that sounds good. I’ll see you there at six.”

“Oh, good. Um. Goodbye for now. The door is opening, you see, I have to rush…” There was a tremendous clattering sound. “Oh, I dropped my phone! It’s not broken, thankfully, but I gave myself quite a fright…”

“I’m glad it wasn’t damaged. I’ll see you tonight.” Mineko tapped the disconnect button, and the tablet became silent.

Well, how about that—a private dinner with the head of Project Sky, approved by Lachlan Reed. It was hard to imagine a greater stroke of luck. The next time she spoke to Lexi, Mineko would be able to explain everything about her implant, and everyone would be impressed. Kade would marvel at how clever she was, Callie would be proud of her…

The prospect of helping the others had reversed Mineko’s mood entirely, and now evening couldn’t come soon enough. It helped that Valerie wasn’t a daunting personality. Perhaps she too felt alienated from Codist society. Despite the age difference, it wasn’t implausible they might have things in common after all. And Mineko had liked her worried eyes, her apprehensive smile.

Was this sufficient justification to use the radio phone Callie had given her? Surely they’d be interested in hearing her news. And she was so very desperate to know if they were still safe.

Mineko hopped off the bed, opened her wardrobe and stood on her toes. Running her hand along the top shelf, she bumped her fingers against the radio phone. It only had two buttons, one a sliding switch marked Receive, the other a depressible button marked Transmit. Simple enough.

Mineko slid the switch, and static hissed. Her heart trembling, she held down the transmission button. “This is Blue calling…”

Several agonizing seconds passed. The phone produced nothing but ominous dead noise. “This is Blue. Is anyone—”

The static cleared. “This is Bunker One. Please re-identify yourself.” The voice was unfamiliar, but whoever he was, he sounded serious.

“My codename is Blue. I was told I could use this line.”

“Acknowledged, Blue. What do you have to transmit?”

How likely was it that someone could intercept this radio transmission? Callie had said the channel was encrypted, but could these revolutionaries be sure that Lachlan’s team hadn’t already cracked it?

Yet Mineko had to take the risk. “Is Callie Roux there?”

“Please hold for a moment.”

The static returned, and Mineko clutched the phone tight. Why was it taking so long? Had something happened to them? Why had she even done this stupid thing? She should have waited until she had a better reason.

The line became clear again, and a new voice—mellow, male—spoke. “Good morning, Blue. I’m Nikolas Reinhold, Commander of Open Hand.”

“Oh. Hello. Aren’t you apprehensive about talking to a Codist?”

“You came with excellent character references. Though I must say, you sound younger than I expected. But youth is no impediment to greatness, isn’t that so?”

So, revolutionaries were a little strange. It was to be expected, perhaps. “Are they all right? My friends?”

“They are very well, but I’m afraid you can’t speak to them. They’re being relocated to another bunker. We had a security incident last night.”

“An incident?” Mineko swallowed hard. “What happened?”

“Nothing that should concern you. The chief outcome was to convince me Alexis is better suited to a remote location.” Nikolas made a thoughtful humming noise. “I’ll see if I can arrange a way for you to contact them later today, but at the moment, I have other preoccupations. I trust you have nothing urgent to share?”

Mineko sank onto her bed, flattened by disappointment. She hadn’t realized until now how badly she wanted to hear their voices, Callie’s most of all. “No. Nothing urgent.”

Another hum, this time sympathetic. “Do keep yourself safe, my young comrade. Those who liberate themselves are the bravest of us all.”

The static returned, and Mineko flicked the switch. So much for that.