Kingdom of Cages (56 page)

No.
Chena wiped her palms on her trousers and then flicked over to the next major thread.
They couldn’t, even them. They wouldn’t.

Designing Eden had given the hothousers all kinds of problems. Chena skimmed that section. Most of the trouble seemed related
to making the immune system fast and agile, and yet not make it so it would turn on its host and all the host’s beneficial
bacteria, or fail to recognize what was just the normal changes of the human body over time.

Eventually they thought they had the formula right. They just needed to find out if such a fetus could be brought to term
in a human woman without the fetus producing an adverse reaction in the mother, or developing one to her.

They decided to start with a host mother with the most compatible set of alleles and genetic expressions they could find.

Helice Trust had been within three points of perfection.

Tears blurred Chena’s vision, but she blinked hard and kept on reading. A mountain of reports followed, documenting every
aspect of Mom’s “pregnancy.” There didn’t seem to be a bodily detail small enough to be left out. Chena flicked past them,
looking for the last day, the day Mom died.

Because surely there was a report on that.

There it was. A subject autopsy. Subject Helice Trust had died of blood loss and heart failure due to severe lacerations and
massive hemorrhaging. That was about all they had to say about Mom.

What was really important was the construct they’d put inside her was missing.

Missing?

The lacerations, it said, were concentrated in the abdominal and uterine areas… Chena blinked and looked away. Someone had
killed Mom, had cut her open to steal the
thing
they’d put inside her…

And they couldn’t find it. It was out there somewhere and the hothousers didn’t know where.

So now the poor babies have to start over again,
thought Chena with a bleak humor.

So they’d need someone who could carry another one of the things. So they’d need…

Chena shot to her feet.

No! No, no, no!

But there it was. It shone on the screen. There was no mistaking it.

Chena backed away as if she thought the screen would bite her.
I’ve got to get out of here. I screwed up. They know I’m here. I’ve got to get—

Then Aleph’s voice whispered in her ear. “I knew you would come back to me, Chena.”

Chena’s hands went instantly numb. Before she could blink again, the screen in front of her blanked out. Chena froze. What
good would running do? Aleph had her marked and was on alert. She couldn’t breathe without the city-mind knowing it.

Her chest heaved as if she had just raced a mile. There was no way out, no way out, no way out.

“How did you know?” she croaked to the invisible watcher.

“Oh, Chena,” said Aleph sadly. “I know you. I’ve been waiting for you to come back in search of your mother ever since you
left me. You could have walked in and had this information at any time. All you had to do was ask.”

Chena couldn’t think of anything to say. Her whole body began to shake. She’d thought she’d done it. She’d thought she’d been
so smart….

She licked her lips and managed to force a few words out. “When did you know it was me?”

Aleph didn’t answer. “Dionte will take you to a waiting room so that your case can be evaluated.”

Chena’s paralysis broke and she was able to turn around. Her client stood on the other side of the door, tall and stone-faced,
one hand curled in on itself, fingers rubbing lightly against her palm.

“Did she tell you?” whispered Chena.

“Go with her now, Chena,” said Aleph. “We will talk soon.”

The transparent door opened. Chena felt the breeze, and the unabated curtain of noise wrapped around her.

Client—Dionte—did not move. She just stood there and waited for Chena to walk across the threshold and stand in front of her
on the catwalk.

“How much did you know?” she asked the woman, not really expecting an answer.

“I only know what Aleph tells me.” She extended a hand, gesturing for Chena to descend the stairs. Chena looked down and saw
Aleph’s arrow waiting for her on the floor, ready to guide her steps in case she got lost.

Chena fixed her gaze on that arrow as if it held her entire world. She let it lead her through the shifting noise of the laboratory
and back out into the quiet, green-scented foyer. She heard a door open ahead of her.

Then the floor around the arrow turned yellow.

Keeping her eyes on the arrow, Chena walked into the involuntary wing. Her mind tilted and spun, all her thoughts thrown into
chaos by fear.

Maybe I’ll get to see Sadia again,
she thought almost hysterically. The sudden, clear memory of Sadia’s blank eyes brought all her thoughts crashing back together.

“In here, Chena,” said Dionte.

Chena halted in midstep. A door had opened to her right. Beyond the threshold, she saw a windowless yellow room and a table
with two chairs facing each other. In the far corner waited yet another chair, this one fully rigged out for image projecting.

Chena’s mouth went dry and she whirled around. There might be one chance for help, or at least leverage.

“I want to see Tam Bhavasar.”

Dionte frowned. “Tam? Chena, I don’t think you understand—”

“He’s my case supervisor, isn’t he?” she pressed. “Isn’t he the one who should be evaluating me?” Chena scanned the walls,
trying to see a speaker grill or some hint of an input terminal, even though she knew there would not be one. “Aleph, shouldn’t
my case supervisor be evaluating me? Don’t I get that much?”

There was a pause, and Chena’s heart hammered hard as she clenched her fist around her false fingernail.
I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, but I can’t let them keep me here, I can’t let them get me.

“Yes,” said Aleph at last. “It is right that your case supervisor continue with your evaluation.”

A frown flickered across Dionte’s face and Chena felt a stab of hope. Maybe there was something going on here. Maybe something
she could use.

Maybe I’m not trapped.

Dionte lifted her hand. Chena saw how slick and shiny her fingertips were. Dionte pressed them against the wall, and the faint
reflection of the light distorted around them. The hairs on the back of Chena’s neck prickled with the knowledge that secrets
were being passed around her.

“Your case supervisor will be sent to you, Chena,” said Dionte as her hand lowered to her side.

Anger flared inside her as she walked into the blank yellow room.
You think I’m stupid, then? You think I’m still just down from the pipe and I haven’t got a spark between my ears yet?

Whoever they were sending her, it wasn’t going to be Tam, that much was sure, or they would have used his name.

Dionte looked on impassively for a moment before the door slid shut between them.

Chena collapsed into one of the chairs by the table. She rubbed her forehead and then stared at her hand and the false nail
on her little finger. Maybe she should take the poison now. Check out into the dark, and they’d never touch her again.

No. They were still telling secrets about her. They still knew who had killed Mom and she was not going to let them go until
she knew, until she’d taken their plans down. They weren’t getting away with it. She would make sure. They could make mistakes.
They could be lied to. She would find a way out of here, and with all their secrets.

Then her spine straightened. She still had not only her poison, but her pocketknife, and the packet of compounds that she
had brought in case she needed extra leverage with her client. They had not searched her at all. Why not?

The door opened silently. Chena watched without surprise as Teal’s old spy, Tam’s cosupervisor, walked in.

“Hello, Chena.” He smiled as he sank into the chair on the other side of the table. “I don’t know if you remember me, but
my name’s Basante.”

Chena looked him up and down and said nothing.
They are trying to play you. Make him talk. Make him tell you what he wants.

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me why you really came back?”

Chena shook her head, her eyes flicking to the walls, watching for any change that would indicate Aleph was listening in.

Basante followed her gaze.

“I see.” He nodded and laid one hand on the wall. “Deaf and dumb,” he said. Chena cocked her head inquisitively toward him.
“Aleph has now forgotten this room.”

“Nice trick,” said Chena, keeping her voice very bored.

He smiled, and for the first time Chena saw a hothouser look modest. “We worked long and hard on it.”

Chena folded her hands across her stomach and gazed across the table at Basante. Whatever he wanted, she was not going to
give it to him easily.

“You do look a lot like your mother.”

Chena’s whole body jerked backward. “What do you know?”

“I was her case supervisor, as well you know.” Basante pressed his palms against the tabletop as if he were trying to hold
something down. “I oversaw her pregnancy, and her living conditions. She was always very concerned about your comfort and
education—and safety,” he added.

Chena’s throat tightened. She couldn’t even begin to think of what to say to that.

“I’m not sure what she’d think about what you’ve become.” He shook his head slowly. “A poisoner? A fugitive?”

“Oh, no, Basante,” said Chena, settling herself back down. “That’s the obvious play. Use my mother’s memory to shame me and
get me angry.” She folded her arms. “You didn’t know her, you just used her. Try again.”

“But I did know her,” said Basante calmly. “Your mother was a volunteer. That made her a resident, and a valued one. She also
was the key we’d been looking for. Her work was going to help end the Diversity Crisis. She was going to save millions of
lives, and she knew it. She worked very closely with her whole team.”

“Funny definition of work,” muttered Chena to the table. “I think you mean ‘was experimented on.’ ”

“No.” His voice was calm, firm, and a little sad. He sounded way too much like Aleph. She wondered if he knew that.

Was Aleph really off? Or was he just saying that to get her to relax? No way to know. It made for a strange lie, though. Most
hothousers took Aleph for granted, like the filtered air around them. On the other hand, he was a “case supervisor”; who knew
how much of her behavior he’d analyzed?

No way to know.

“We’re evil, right?” Basante was saying.

Chena smiled and spread her hands.
You said it, I didn’t.

“We kidnap people and reduce them to lab animals. We care more about Pandora than we do any of the people on it. The villages
are living laboratories. Who knows what we did to your friend Sadia—”

“I do,” snapped Chena, and she was instantly sorry. She couldn’t let this get to her.

He’s just talking lies. Let it roll off. Let it roll off. Just buzzing. Just a bug buzzing, that’s all.

“Sadia served her time, Chena,” he said quietly. “She did her part, and now she’s living in Taproot, with a paying job and
her own home. I made sure of that.”

“You?” Chena’s eyebrows lifted.

Basante nodded. “I did, and my friends did.” He leaned forward. “There are some of us who believe that the families inside
the complexes are taking the wrong road.”

Slowly, Chena lifted her gaze. Basante’s face was earnest, open.

What is going on with you?
“Sounds like that’s your problem.” One corner of Basante’s mouth turned up. “Yes, that is my problem. As are you.”

Chena shrugged. She did not like this. How could he even be talking like this? Wasn’t that chip in his head supposed to keep
him united with his family? She did not like this at all. Some new secret was being woven. She could feel it in every pore
of her skin.

“It took a lot of doing so that we could get to you before they did.”

“They?”

Basante nodded solemnly. “The ones who killed your mother.”

Slowly, Chena stood. With measured steps, she walked around the table. Basante swiveled his chair so he could look straight
at her. “I am so sick of hints and games I could spit,” she said. “You tell me what you have to tell me, or I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” said Basante. “You’ll poison me? Or you’ll just stab me?” He smiled at her. “Yes, we left you all your weapons.
Now, why would we do such a stupid thing?”

Chena said nothing, she just clenched her hands into fists.

The gesture did not escape Basante. “Very well.” He pushed the chair back a little and stood up. He was just eye level with
her, and she could see the lines age and stress were beginning to etch on his face.

“If we in the hothouses do not change or grow, we are going to die. Maybe the Authority will destroy us. Maybe the Diversity
Crisis will finally find us. Either way, we are in danger.” He took a breath. “My friends and I have tried and tried to get
the families to hear reason, but they will not listen. They continue to squabble and debate. Those debates are what killed
your mother. I have tried for years to find out who wielded the knife and silenced Aleph, but I can’t.” He looked down at
his own hands as if they were symbols of his inadequacy. “I was hoping that you might be able to find out for me.”

Chena realized she was breathing fast and shallow, but she couldn’t help it. She closed her mouth and swallowed. “How?”

“By volunteering.”

Those words froze all the blood in Chena’s veins. Something must have showed in her face, because Basante went on quickly.
“No one will suspect you. You are just a villager. You will be able to ask questions and find information that I cannot. Everyone
knows I have an agenda. No one will suspect that of you.” He spread his hands. “You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed that
some of my family do not believe villagers capable of thought.”

Chena peered at him closely, as if trying to see straight through his eyes and into his mind.
He means it. God’s garden, he really means it.