'I'm Silent, Ben, and I can still work in the Dream. Do you honestly think they'd kill me? If I make a mistake, they'll probably just make me part of the Collection.'
'That makes me feel so much better.'
'And you'll be free to stage another rescue,' Kendi finished.
'Sounds like fun,' Gretchen drawled.
Kendi firmed his jaw. 'I don't know why I'm trying to justify anything. This is the way it's going to happen, troops. You have gripes, take them up with Irfan.'
'We'll do as you order, Father,' Lucia said quietly. 'We're just worried about you. Even Sister Gretchen worries, though she won't admit it.'
Gretchen folded her arms. 'The only thing I'm worried about is how much my part sucks.'
Father Kendi Weaver adjusted his tool belt and shrugged within his blue maintenance uniform. Seemingly without a care in the world, he sauntered up the corridor that led to the Collection.
The corridor, an unassuming gray affair with no doors or windows, was deserted. The files Ben had copied from Roon's directory had indicated that although the Silent prisoners-Alphas, Roon called them-did not have a fixed schedule, most of the workers did. Only a skeleton staff remained on duty for eight of the station's twenty-four hours each 'day,' giving them some semblance of a diurnal cycle. It seemed most logical to strike when most of the staff were gone.
Interestingly enough, the files also indicated that the vast majority of the workers had no idea what sort of project they were working for. Only Roon, the department heads, another group called the Deltas, and a handful of security folk were in the know. The rest were corporate and blue-collar dupes who would probably lose their jobs when it was all over. But Kendi couldn't let himself feel sorry for them. Not where slavery was involved.
The first checkpoint was a heavy-looking door with a print scanner next to it. Kendi slotted his ID holocard into the key slot, then pressed his thumb to the plate. The plate glowed blue. Kendi held his breath. He knew very well that Ben had used Roon's access to upload a scan of Kendi's prints to the 'approved' list, but there was always a moment when you wondered if there had been a mistake.
The lock released with a loud clunk. Kendi pocketed the holocard Ben had forged for him and continued onward. His hands weren't even shaking.
The second checkpoint was exactly like the first, and admitted him with no trouble. The third checkpoint consisted of a plexiglass door through which Kendi could see a pair of human guards watching a series of display terminals. Kendi slotted his card and submitted to the retina scan. Both guards looked up as the lock released and Kendi entered.
'Hey,' he said.
The first guard blinked, probably checking the time on his ocular implant. 'Late?'
Kendi shrugged. 'I called in sick at first, but felt better later, so I decided to come in. You know how it goes-missed hours mean a smaller paycheck.'
'I hear you,' said the second guard, waving him on.
Kendi hitched his tool belt and moved more quickly, as if he really were worried about missing work time. He turned a corner and found a door labeled Lockers. Kendi went in.
The place looked like any ordinary place for changing and storing clothes. Gray tiles, benches, rows of black lockers. Deserted. Kendi tapped his earpiece. 'I'm in.'
'Are you logged onto the system as Mallory?'
Kendi left the locker room, and a transparent red arrow flashed across the bottom of his vision. It led him left, then straight, then left again. He kept his cap low. From time to time he passed other people, all human, and all of whom ignored him. Eventually, the arrow took him down another empty hallway to a large lift. The arrow changed into a number 5. Kendi used his card to board the lift and pressed the button for the fifth floor. Once the doors shut, he quickly shucked his coveralls, revealing a skin-tight black outfit beneath. Kendi replaced the tool belt around his waist and sprayed the coveralls. They disintegrated. Next he pulled a black mask and hood from the tool belt and checked the time on his ocular display. He nodded, satisfied.
It was time to make Roon pay.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'We are stuck with what we've lived through. The trick is to finish it with a flourish and an outrageous sense of design.'
Delta Maura's keycard opened the door with no trouble. The corridor beyond was empty-sleep cycle. Martina braced herself, then crossed the threshold.
Nothing happened. No shock, no pain, no alarms. She let out a small breath. Her shackles lay on the bathroom floor. There was no reason to believe anything would happen to her when she left her prescribed place, but a lifetime of conditioning could not be overcome in a few seconds of freedom.
Martina chose a random direction and went. The problem was, she had no idea where to go. She reasoned there had to be ways in and out of the place, though Martina had never seen them. She should probably avoid places she knew, since they'd be dead-ends. The kitchen would be a good place to start-food delivery had to come from somewhere. It might provide her an exit, if only she could find the place.
A sudden urge to go find Keith flooded her. She had a master unit. She could release his shackles and they could run together. A firm shake of the head forced the thought from her mind. Keith was lost to her. She would have to get out herself, then find a way to come back for him. And she would.
If she could get out.
Martina opened a door and found a concrete staircase. Up or down?
Down, she decided. Martina had always gotten the sense that the dumbwaiter in her room came from below, though she had never actually seen it move. In any case, it was something to go on.
She gathered the skirts of her robe in green-gloved hands and headed downward as quickly as she dared. Delta Maura's robe was wide for her and a bit short. Her footsteps echoed off the hard walls. The stairwell was warmer than the corridor, and it smelled like hot metal.
Martina jumped, but no one was there. The voice had come right into her ear. What had- Delta Maura's earpiece. Swallowing hard, Martina whispered, 'Fine. Sorry. I forgot to check in.'
'I thought I might get something to eat in the kitchen,' Martina said, still whispering. The voice of a whisper wasn't recognizable.
'Of course.' Martina tapped the earpiece, ending the conversation. Her heart was beating so fast it made her eyes pulse in time with it. At least she had gotten a valuable clue-the kitchens were on a lower level than the person who had spoken with her.
One level down, the staircase ended. Martina found a door and opened it with her keycard. Voices raised in conversation greeted her. The large room beyond seemed to be an employee dining hall, with rows of long tables and low-backed chairs. Perhaps two dozen people ate from cafeteria trays. Two of them were dressed in green robes identical to Martina's. Martina's first instinct was to flee, but she forced herself to remain in the doorway. None of the diners took the slightest notice of her.
Martina took a deep breath and started across the room. Food smells washed over her and her stomach growled, though she didn't feel at all like eating. The kitchen should be nearby. Martina found herself keeping to the edges of the room. Stupid. Anyone who saw a Delta walking as if she belonged there wouldn't think twice. Anyone who saw a Delta trying to sneak about would get suspicious. Martina forced herself to stride openly and firmly. Silverware clattered against plates and people continued to talk. How long before the people spying on her room got suspicious about the bathtub? How long before they sent someone else to check? Martina didn't know.
One of the Deltas looked up, noticed Martina, and waved her over. Martina's veins hummed with adrenaline. She gave a little wave of her own, pretending to misunderstand, and headed for a large set of swinging doors on the other side of the dining room. Before she could hesitate and lose her nerve, she pushed through them.
