Reaping (41 page)

“Our task, now,” he continues, “is threefold. First, we infiltrate the Farms and begin substituting our unmodified seeds for the OAC’s seeds where possible. Second, we begin growing our own food from these seeds to distribute in small quantities outside the MealPak system. Third, we hijack the Sector’s own distribution system to bring this food to Sector citizens in the short term. Our goal is to begin to get the people of Okaria off of the modified food regimes without experiencing the kind of severe withdrawal symptoms we all went through when we came here. Once we’ve done all three things,” Eli says with a twinkle in his eye, “we can begin thinking about escalating our offensive against the Sector.”

“Which brings us to Vale,” the Director says.

Where is he?

She turns to Zoe, the girl who worked in the comm center at Normandy, and who is now apparently the Director’s right-hand woman, and says with a huff, “Go find him.” No sooner does Zoe stand up than Vale sweeps into the room, his mouth set, his eyes dark as a thundercloud.

“What’s wrong?” the Director says.

“It can wait.” His voice is clipped, controlled. He glances around the room until his gaze settles on mine and then, with a look I can’t decipher but makes me nervous, he takes his place at the front of the room. “Am I up?”

“It’s all yours,” Eli says, stepping back, giving Vale a wide berth.

Vale takes a deep breath and faces the group. “Not many of you know this yet, but over the course of the last five to ten years, the Sector has been assembling what could be the most powerful informational tool in history.” He reaches up to his ear and, fumbling slightly, pulls off what looks like a flap of skin. There are some muffled whispers of 
ugh
 and 
what the hell? 
from the audience, and I, too, would be shocked if I hadn’t seen him do it before. He holds it up, but it’s so small, so transparent, it’s hard to see. “This tiny little patch of fiber connects me to the largest information storehouse amassed since the Internet, otherwise known as the World Wide Web, of the Old World. We call it a Comm-Link, or a C-Link, and through it, I can access every single public or government file currently on the Sector network.”

Skeptical, hesitant looks transform into wide-eyed gasps. Vale hesitates, looking almost fondly at the patch of fibers in his hand. But then he comes back, and looks up and around at his audience, and his politician’s instinct for public speaking comes back to him. A confident, almost radiant calmness descends on him as he speaks, the kind that just makes you want to believe everything he says. It’s a dangerous ability, one that kept me from trusting him for too long. 
Or, maybe, should I still be more careful?

“Many of you didn’t trust me when I first arrived. Maybe nobody did. Maybe you still don’t. I’m an Orleán and that makes me potentially treacherous and dangerous. Half the reason there are dozens of squads of Black Ops prowling the Wilds looking for us is because of me. And you still might think I’m not trustworthy, just because I’ll always be Corine’s son. But whether you trust me or not, this tool, this C-Link, is the best and probably only chance you have at bringing down the OAC entirely.

“The fibers I hold in my hand mold exclusively to my skin and respond only to my command. There are only eleven of these in existence and they belong to the highest officials in the Sector and the Consortium. Two to my parents. Five to the OAC’s Board of Directors. One to Evander Sun-Zi, and two to Generals Conrad and Lara. One to me. It was a graduation present,” he says with a heavy sigh, then collects himself again.

“With my C-Link, we can access every passcode in the database, break into every top-secret research lab, hijack the drone and navigation systems, view the blueprints for every Seed Bank and the layouts of every military craft in operation. This tiny little piece of fiber is our connection to every bit of information we could ever want or need in our battle.”

“You say ‘we’ like you’re one of us,” a voice calls from the crowd. I can’t identify the voice, and the man has stopped speaking before I can locate him.

“He is,” I growl in the direction of the voice, defending him, though whether for his sake or to prove to myself that I really do trust him, I’m not sure.

“I am,” he proclaims loudly, much to my surprise. I spin around to watch him. His expression, far from the tortured, angry look he sported when he entered the room, is confident, determined. “I wouldn’t have left everything behind in Okaria if I didn’t know in my heart of hearts that what they’re doing is wrong.” He pauses. “I don’t want a civil war. I don’t want more bloodshed. That’s why I'm doing everything in my power to see that Eli’s plan works.”

This is Vale at his finest, when he’s speaking his mind plainly and simply. These are the moments I remember most from when we were friends—and more than friends. The times when he was telling me why he loved studying history, or about his physics research, or when he was losing himself in his music. Those raw bits of honesty that shine through sometimes. You want to follow him anywhere.

“But there is one drawback.”

“Figures,” someone says.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” another whispers.

“The problem is that this tool is only accessible when I’m within range of the Sector’s networks. Which means I either have to be at an administrative station in one of the Farms or Factory towns, or I have to be in the capital. So I’m going back.”

The room explodes.

“Going back?”

“Why the hell are we letting him leave alive?”

“He’ll turn us in as soon as he’s back home with mommy and daddy.”

We knew some would react like this, and Vale stands there and takes it, his jaw clenching and unclenching until the clamor dies down. The Director speaks up, her voice sharp as a blade.

“Are you finished?” The room falls silent. “I want everyone here to understand this: Vale has earned my trust. He’s earned Dr. Rhinehouse’s trust. And he’s earned Gabriel’s trust. I hope that is good enough for the rest of you. If not, take it up with me after the meeting.”

Vale’s shoulders rise and fall as he continues. “A team of engineers is setting up the secure link I’ll use to transmit data back to you. Whatever I learn, you’ll learn. Whatever documents I gain access to, Dem—my C-Link will transmit to you. This is the only way we can meet them on a level playing field. They can out-man us and out-gun us, so we have to outsmart them. And we have Remy's video from Round Barn. We're going to hack into the Sector's broadcast system and play it for everyone to see.” He steps back and looks over at Chan-Yu, Soo-Sun, and Osprey. “Now it’s time to hear from our allies in this effort. The Outsiders. Osprey?”

As she steps up, Vale backs away and catches my eyes again, letting his gaze linger for just a second before flicking back toward Osprey. His face is composed, but it’s like he’s wearing a mask, a mask he’s trying hard to keep in place. Something’s wrong.

“After much deliberation, we have agreed to donate a limited amount of manpower and transportation in return for a guarantee of protection of our lands.” Her eyes grow wide and light up as she speaks. “As you begin growing all your fancy food, you’ll need to get it to the people somehow. We’ll help you do that. We’ve been traveling around under the Sector’s nose for decades, and we’ll show you how. We’ll also help you hijack some of their own distribution systems, especially once Vale starts feeding us the OAC’s transport grids.

“One of us,” her eyes flicker to Chan-Yu, “has intimate knowledge of the OAC’s operating systems and research programs. Along with Vale, we can help you circumvent detection and ultimately disrupt and shut down the OAC’s MealPak modification program and take back control of the citizens’ dietary regime. We will help you assemble a number of guerrilla squads to hijack the Sector’s distribution lines, pose as OAC staff, Enforcers on the Farms, and Watchmen in the Factory Towns. We’ll switch out Sector MealPaks with your unmodified food and distribute it evenly throughout. We’ll track their shipments, steal their equipment, and intercept their lines. While your scientists and engineers and farmers are churning out seeds and growing untainted food, we’ll have a troop of people dedicated to getting that food to those who need it. Soren Skaarsgard and I will be leading that effort.”

Eli steps back up next to Osprey. “Now, let’s get into the details and take some questions.”

Vale eases toward the door by the podium and, with the barest toss of his head, signals me to follow him before he disappears through it.

“Bathroom,” I whisper to my dad and without a second thought I slip out of my seat and leave by the door at the back of the room.

                                            27 - VALE

                                                                                                                                                                                                              Spring 27, Sector Annum 106, 10h45

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Gregorian Calendar: April 15

“What’s wrong?” she asks. Remy’s face is painted with worry, her eyes dark and questioning, the bridge of her nose creased where her brows are furrowed. I would like nothing more than to plant my lips there, to smooth away all her worry lines. Instead, I grab her hand and pull her along after me.

“Come on,” I whisper. She follows without question, her hand tightening into mine, and I think it wondrously strange how far we’ve come. A month ago, she had trouble looking at me. Now I am holding her hand.

I lead her through a long hallway, past two sets of doors, and down toward the bunks. Finally, I push open the door to my room—the one I’m sharing with Miah, Eli, and Firestone—and pull her in. I have no idea what she’s thinking, but when I see the look on her face, I know Linnea is not what she expected.

“What’s going on?” Accusation, confusion—and disappointment—tint her voice.
Surely she doesn’t think Linnea and I….

“Linnea has something to say to you.” I cut that thought off before it takes hold.

“Okay.”

“You’re not a very popular person back home,” Linnea starts, looking at Remy as if she were a curiosity, like an old and now tasteless decoration from her childhood bedroom. Remy’s fingers are still entwined in mine, and I squeeze, trying to resist the urge to ball my hand up into a fist and pound something. A wall perhaps. Maybe Linnea’s face.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Remy glances up at me as if to say 
you brought me here for this?

“Get to the point,” I say to Linnea.

“After that stunt you pulled carving up Evander’s face—really, Remy, how could you do that?” she shudders, shaking it off. “He was ready to come after you with everything at his disposal. To deploy the entirety of the Sector Defense Forces. But Corine and Philip were worried about Vale’s safety and Aulion said it was a waste of manpower and that he had a better idea. Apparently Aulion has had experience dispensing with people who had become ‘bothersome.’ Now I know he was talking about Soren’s parents. I don’t know who else he’s dispensed with, but—”

“Keep going,” I cut her off.

“Anyway, Evander wants you dead. Corine and Philip want Vale back home. And they want the Resistance destroyed. So they came to me with a proposal.” She stands and walks over to Eli’s bunk. She picks up his shower kit and runs her fingers over each item—his razor, his toothbrush, his comb. “Literally a proposal.”

“A proposal…” Remy repeats, not understanding.

Linnea turns and looks Remy in the eye. “I am infected with a targeted nanotech bug that operates just like a virus except that it is not ‘tuned’ to my biochemistry, only to Eli’s. My job was to infect Eli—really, Corine is obsessed with him—and, if I succeeded and made it back to Okaria, we’d kill two birds with one stone—one virus—and I would get my reward. Since Eli won’t let me near him, there was no chance of seducing him, of passing the virus to him via a more enjoyable means than using his toothbrush.” She shudders. “That was really quite disgusting.”

“A virus? Eli’s sick?” Remy lets go of my hand and sinks down onto my bed, deflated. “What kind of virus?”

“The virus changes the biochemistry in his brain so that he will hate you. The look of you, the very 
smell
 of you will repulse him to the point where he is enraged and will, eventually, kill you. It poisons his mind. It hijacks the synaptic transmission between neurons and disconnects images of you with positive thinking and reconnects those images with negative emotions. Fear. Pain. Anxiety. Anger.
 Hate.
”

I’ve already heard all this. She came to me with her confession right before the briefing was to start, but now, hearing it all over again, watching Remy try to process it, makes me almost blind with rage. I thought I knew the depths my parents would sink to, but oh happy day, they’re always ready to surprise. Remy’s shaking hands have wadded up the edge of the blanket, gripping and ungripping.

The cruelty is astonishing. Turning Eli, the only survivor of the classroom attack into the same kind of maniacal killer who carried out the attack in the first place takes a warped mind that I thought only existed in fairy tales. Evil Queens. Despotic dictators. Murderous tyrants. 
My mother.

Linnea plunges ahead. “Of course, killing the darling Remy Alexander would be a very bad thing, and so chances are Eli would not be long for this world either.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asks, glaring at Linnea as if she were a giant cockroach.

Linnea shrugs. “Because I changed my mind. I decided I don’t like being the vector for a synthetic disease that makes friends kill each other.”

“Is there any antidote?”

“I told you, it’s nanotech. Not a real virus,” Linnea snaps. Though she won’t show it, she’s at least mildly concerned about her complicity, but that does little to comfort me.