My thoughts jumbled together, and I quickly began to sort them in order from most important to least, to explain to them why this wouldn’t work. But then Lacey looked at her wrist and shook her head.
“Whatever reservations you have, wait until you read the talking points we gave you. I’m sure your concerns will be addressed. Now, we have to go.”
And before I could really say anything, they turned to head out of the room.
“I hope you and Mr. Farmless are good liars,” Strum called as the door began to swing closed. “If not, just try to be as emotionless as possible. And practice!”
I was staring dumbly at the door, unable to process how quickly everything was moving, when it all suddenly clicked.
“Wait!” I managed.
But I was too late. The wheel squeaked as it spun around, sealing us in.
I stared at the door, alarmed and confused by their hasty departure.
“What’s on the pad?” Leo asked, his voice very close behind me. I practically leapt out of my skin and whipped around.
I gazed at him, while he looked at me expectantly. Then I reluctantly looked down at the pad in my hands, and exhaled.
“Right,” I murmured.
I straightened my back and squared my shoulders before tapping the screen. It immediately came on, and I clicked the only icon on the homepage.
It was a text file, with several bulleted talking points. I skimmed them for a few seconds, and then did a mental double take, blinking my eyes several times to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on me. I slowed down to read it again, my eyes gobbling up more and more of the words as their meaning and plan became clearer and clearer.
“What’s it say?” Leo asked eagerly.
I looked up at him. “A lot,” I replied dubiously, my eyes returning to the screen. I hoped they knew what the hell they were doing.
Because if they didn’t, this mammoth of a lie was going to get us all killed.
4
Leo and I walked quickly across the Grounds at the bottom level of the Tower. Above us, the Core, the Medica, and the Citadel dangled, forming a triangle. It was hard not to lift my eyes upward and stare at them in awe. No one was allowed on this level unless they had business with the council, so I had never been able to see what they looked like from this angle before.
They were breathtaking, to say the least. The black and blue geometric steps of the cone-shaped Core glistened and gleamed as we moved under it, making it look like a bullseye against the roof of the Tower for an instant—until we stepped out from under its zenith several paces later.
I had to lower my eyes to follow the attendant who had come to fetch us not ten minutes ago. Both Leo and I were wearing shock shackles, which would shock us if we fell too far behind him, so we had to keep up—unless we wanted a particularly nasty jolt that would render us unconscious within seconds.
The attendant was already over a wooden bridge that crossed a small stream some ten feet ahead, and I paused as I stepped onto the wood, marveling at the shiny planks. We had trees, but harvesting them was strictly prohibited, as they played an integral part in the Tower’s oxygen production. Most of them were also food-bearing trees, so cutting them down meant threatening the food supply—another big no-no in the Tower.
The Grounds, however, were covered with non-fruit-producing trees, running thick and wild across the floor. Paths similar to the one we were on cut through the vegetation, but everything else was devoted to plant life, aiding in oxygen production and providing lush scenery that replicated a world that no longer existed. I passed by a bench that overlooked a stream as it poured into a lake. Orange, white, and red fish, some as long as my arm, swam through the waters, occasionally breaking the surface in the pursuit of food.
I continued across the bridge, trying not to stare, but it was hard. I should have been mentally reviewing the talking points that Lacey had given us, but all that green, and the smell of wet earth and water, called to me, begging for my attention. After a few weeks of being cut off from a greenery (one that wasn’t dedicated to animals, mind you), I had forgotten how much I loved it.
Let alone the feel of walking across something made of actual wood. It seemed so fantastical, a luxury that had to have been brought into the Tower long ago and preserved throughout the ages. And only the councilors could enjoy it, marvel at its age and wonder at its history. It seemed wrong, somehow, that such a quiet and serene place could be kept from the citizens. Didn’t we all have the right to enjoy such a place?
The attendant waved a hand, then, and Leo and I quickened our pace in order to keep up, the threat of being shocked before we delivered our fabricated testimony lending speed to our wearied limbs.
“Are you sure you’re going to remember everything?” Leo asked quietly. “I can take point if you think you aren’t up to it.”
I considered his question. It would be easier to let him do it; he had a photographic memory, apparently, so only one look and he’d had it memorized.
But I did, too. The words were too important for me to forget. The trick was making it believable, and for all of Leo’s insistence that he could lie, and do it well, I couldn’t risk all of our lives on his untested abilities. I, on the other hand, was a pretty good liar.
“I’ve got it.” My eyes slid over to him. “H-How’s Grey?”
The question had been burning inside me since we had gotten to the cell in which Lacey and Strum had held us captive. But I hadn’t given it rein. I couldn’t, because I bore the burden of responsibility, which meant making sure everyone else was safe, first.
Now that we were away from the others, I needed to know what was going on.
Ahead of us, the attendant turned a corner, disappearing behind a few trees, but I kept my pace the same, trusting that he wouldn’t get too far ahead of us without stopping and waiting. As much as I didn’t want to get shocked, I also knew, after thinking about it logically, that Lacey or Strum would have told the attendant not to let that happen. Or at least, I hoped they had.
Beside me, Leo sighed, and I looked over at him.
“Liana, it’s not a fast process,” he said, looking at me with Grey’s warm brown eyes. My heart clenched, and I looked away, uncomfortable at knowing that the person behind them was not the person I wanted it to be.
“I know that,” I murmured. We turned the corner, and sure enough, the attendant was waiting for us to appear, standing next to another path that disappeared between two thick clusters of trees, which held deep, dark shadows. The path seemed to glow white between them. “But… it’s Grey. I’m… I…”
I blinked back tears and sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, trying to soothe the stabbing pain that was threatening to pry my heart in half. “I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I said, once the pain had faded some. A glance at Leo told me he was confused, and I let it lie there, unwilling to dredge it up again.
He, however, was not so ready to let it go. “Liana…”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You told me it would take time, and you’re right. I shouldn’t pester you.”
“No. I know that you care for Grey very much. So I promise, I will always give you an update whenever you ask.” I looked up at him, and he smiled kindly. The dagger in my heart twisted deeper.
“Thank you,” I managed hoarsely.
We turned the corner, and the path shot long and straight through the murky woods. The attendant continued ahead, making for the dome-shaped building at the end: the Council Room. We all knew about it; I had seen it from above many times, as I dangled from the tip of the Citadel, studying the view below. Inside, the heads of five different departments would be waiting. I wasn’t sure if Devon’s second in command, Lieutenant Salvatore Zale, was going to be in attendance—I was unclear on the protocol for that—but even if he was, I doubted he would get an actual vote.
Still, I wasn’t going to enjoy seeing him, one way or another. He was an intimidating man, through and through—one who grew qui
eter when he grew angrier, not louder, if my parents were to be believed. And he had been close friends with Devon Alexander.
I was about to go confess to that murder. I could only imagine what he would do to avenge that death.
I went over the talking points in my head as the white dome loomed closer, ignoring the growing impulse to try to make a run for it. Lacey and Strum were on my side. That was two, and without Devon, that only left three more to convince. I prayed that Lacey and Strum had a way of dealing with Scipio.
We broke through the trees into a wide space between the tree line and the white dome. Several fountains encircled the structure, feeding into a stream running around it. More fish swam lazily through the water, moving both upstream and down. Flat bridges, wide enough for just one person, spanned the gap over the stream, running between the fountains.
Across the bridges, steps rounded the outside of the building, leading up into the outer circle, which was lined by large white columns. A symbol for each department was carved into every column, facing out so everyone would know that this was a place for everyone.
A chill crept down my spine as the attendant moved forward, striding across one of the bridges and guiding us closer to what Lacey and Strum promised would be victory—but in which I could clearly see the possibility of defeat.
“It was all Devon’s fault,” Leo reminded me as each of us stepped onto a narrow bridge, and I nodded.
That was the lie, although it was more complicated than he was making it out to be. The plan essentially revolved around putting blame on Devon’s shoulders, but there were a lot of details that I had to remember. I knew that whatever happened once we were in that building, the only thing that mattered was convincing everyone that we were telling the truth. It was the only way for us to get out of here. But it wasn’t going to be easy.
I still had no idea what Lacey and Strum planned to do about Scipio, or how they were going to prevent him and whoever was controlling him from denying the accusations outright. But I had to trust that they knew what they were doing.
We climbed the steps side by side, moving between a pair of columns and up to a tall set of double doors carved out of wood. On the outside was an inscription: For the good of the Tower, we do what we must, in order to survive.
The words did not comfort me as the attendant pulled one of the doors open and waved us in. We moved inside, into a surprisingly small reception chamber with wooden chairs lining the walls. The ground was metal, like most of the floors in the Tower, but was missing the corrugation designed to provide maximum traction; instead, it was smooth and gleaming, dark whorls and swoops running through the metal, revealed only at certain angles under the bright lighting overhead. In the middle of the room sat a table with several glasses and a large pitcher of water, and I made for it immediately.
As I poured the crystal-clear liquid into a cup, I heard the murmur of voices drifting through the doors opposite the ones we had entered. I poured another cup for Leo, offering it to him. He accepted it with a delighted smile, and took a small, experimental sip of the liquid. I watched his excitement fade to disappointment, and felt vaguely upset that I didn’t have something more delicious to offer him. Then I remembered that he was doing this in Grey’s body, and the discomfort returned. I masked it by taking my glass and moving closer to the door, curious as to what the voices were saying.
The attendant made no move to stop me, so it wasn’t against the rules. I took a sip of my water, wetting my mouth and slaking the sudden thirst I was feeling, and then grew very still, trying to discern the voices.
“—if I understand this.” My ears picked out the voice, muffled though it was, and I marked it as female. That meant it was Executive Sadie Monroe, the head of the IT Department, as she was the only female on the council besides Lacey. “Liana Castell—the same one who broke into my department to steal nine of our nets—murdered Devon Alexander, the head of his own department, and you’re trying to tell me that she reported to you and turned herself in right afterward? I have to say, Engineer Green, that’s a bit of a stretch, especially coming from a Cog.”
She practically spat the last word, and I frowned at the disdain in her voice. “Cog” was the nickname for those in the Mechanical Department, but we all had nicknames. As a Knight, I would’ve been a Shield. If Grey had been allowed to remain in the Farming Department, he would’ve been a Hand. Zoe was a Diver, and Quess had been born a Medic, although he had made several department changes in his life before finally becoming an undoc—a person living in hiding and self-exile within the Tower.
“Not entirely sure what you want me to say, Executive Monroe,” Lacey replied smoothly. I took a step closer to the door, listening. “I’ve dutifully reported that she surrendered herself to me and requested a trial with Scipio present. She’s on her way here, and will arrive any minute. Why don’t you let her tell her story, and stop badgering me with questions I don’t have the answers to?”
I had to admit, Lacey was a good liar. Everything she said sounded natural and unforced.
“I think we should just let Lieutenant Zale drag her down to the expulsion chambers in the Citadel,” Executive Monroe replied haughtily. “What sort of precedent are we setting by agreeing to a terrorist’s request for a trial? Have you considered that this could be some sort of trap? She could be walking through these doors with some kind of bomb meant to kill us all!”
“The scanners along the floor will detect and alert Scipio to any sort of threat long before she arrives.” Strum’s voice boomed out, easy to pick up, but the next masculine voice was harder to discern.
“Executive Monroe brings up several good points, however. You cannot deny that all of this is highly suspicious. What sort of criminal kills a council member, only to then surrender themselves to another council member?”
“Isn’t that the sort of question you want answered?” Lacey exclaimed. “You’re not wrong in that everything is suspicious, but doesn’t that make you curious, too?”
“I will admit to some curiosity.”
This voice was different than the other masculine one that had sounded earlier. There were only two possibilities for who it could be: the head of the Medica, Chief Surgeon Marcus Sage, or the head of the greeneries, Head Farmer Emmanuel Plancett. Having never heard either of their voices, it was hard for me to tell who was who.
“I myself have many questions I’d like to have answered. Besides, Executive Monroe, there’s no use in complaining about it now. We already voted, and you lost.”
“And I’m begging you to reconsider. This girl has a laundry list of charges against her. She sprang the other one, Grey Farmless, from the Citadel, and then murdered her mentor. She infiltrated the Medica to get a few more of her compatriots out, and seems to have teamed up with a merry band of undocs in order to steal nets and murder council members! This girl is flat-out guilty, and we should just let Lieutenant Zale take her before she even has a chance to speak. Who knows what sort of treacherous plan she has up her sleeve!”
“Enough!” thundered a new voice, and this one I did recognize. I’d only ever heard his voice through the net in my head, and only when he personally delivered orders, but it was the same. Recognizable in its cold arrogance, which always made me imagine a princely man on a throne made of ice. “These arguments are moot. The girl is here, and I would have her be heard before rendering any opinion on the matter. Data, esteemed council members, is always necessary. Open the doors and let us see what she has to say.”
There was a murmur following the command of Scipio, the master AI that controlled most aspects of life inside the Tower, and then the doors began to swing open.
I watched, glass in hand, my heart suddenly in my throat, my brain screaming for me to run. This was the moment of reckoning that had been haunting me since I freed Grey from the Citadel. I was caught. Everyone in there, except for Strum and Lacey, hated me. They feared me. They probably wanted nothing more than to have me killed right then an
d there. And without Lacey and Strum’s plan, I would easily be found guilty… and executed. But thanks to that plan, I had a chance—just one—to make sure that we didn’t die in the chamber rooms in the Citadel.
It was time to do what I did best, and lie.
5
I stared dumbly at the wide gap left in the wake of the doors opening, a chasm of dread growing wide and deep in the pit of my stomach. The attendant who had been guiding us waved me forward, but I stood frozen, transfixed by the light spilling through the door, the dark floor and wooden walls, and the stand in the middle.
The attendant sighed and leaned toward me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me forward. He plucked the glass of water from my fingers when he pushed me past him, and I almost stumbled as I was shoved through the doorway. The threshold was a tight hall, only a few feet deep, but I used the time to steel myself before I stepped into the light.
The room was circular, with high wooden walls that stretched up thirty feet to the ceiling above. The wooden panels were carved with a geometric design that seemed to have no beginning or end, but ran around the room in a rhythmic, slanted pattern, giving the entire cylinder the illusive appearance of spinning. The only places this was interrupted were where a large metal relief jutted out of the wood. There were seven in total, each one depicting the sigil for a different department. They were spread evenly apart, and stood high enough that I could probably reach up and touch the bottom of one with my fingertips, if I went to my toes.
At first, I thought the room empty—which was weird, considering the voices I had heard moments ago. But as my eyes continued to follow the lines and turn upward, I saw Strum sitting a few feet above the sigil for Water Treatment—a series of five pipes standing side by side, bound in the middle by a rod, a tear shape around it. He was wearing a bright blue uniform, which I could tell was reserved for more formal use rather than everyday work around the Tower, given the numerous insignias on his lapel and chest. His head gleamed under the bright light generated by a multi-tiered chandelier overhead, and the Diver’s marks proclaiming his proficiencies, tattooed on his scalp, stood out in stark comparison. His face was carefully neutral when he met my eyes, but he did give a pointed look at the podium before turning his nose up.