THE PATRIOTS DISGUISE ME BEFORE WE HEAD OUT.
Kaede cuts my hair so it stops right below my shoulders, then she tints the white-blond strands a dark brownish red. She uses some sort of spray to do it, something they can remove with a special cleanser if they need to strip the color out. Razor gives me a pair of brown contact lenses that completely hide the bright blue of my eyes. Only I can tell that it’s artificial; I can still see the tiny, tiny specks of deep purple dotting my irises. These contacts are a luxury in themselves—rich trots use them to change their eye color—for fun. They would’ve come in handy for me on the streets if I’d had access to them. Kaede adds a synthetic scar to my cheek, then finishes off my disguise with a first-year air force uniform; a full black suit with red stripes running along each pant leg.
Finally, she equips me with a tiny flesh-colored earpiece and mike—the first embedded discreetly in my ear, the second inside my cheek.
Razor himself is decked out in a custom Republic officer uniform. Kaede wears a flawless flight outfit—a black jumpsuit with silver wing stripes wrapped around both sleeves, matching white condor gloves, and wing goggles. She’s not a Pilot in the Patriots for nothing—according to Razor, she can pull off a split-S in the air better than anyone he’s ever seen. Kaede should have no trouble posing as a Republic fighter pilot.
Tess is already gone, whisked away half an hour ago by a soldier who Razor says is another Patriot. Tess is too young to pass as a soldier of any level, so getting her onto the RS Dynasty means dressing her in a simple brown collar shirt and trousers, the outfit of workers who operate the airship’s hundreds of stoves.
And then there’s June.
June quietly watches my transformation from the couch. She hasn’t said much since our last conversation over my recovery bed. While the rest of us have our various getups, June is unchanged—no makeup, her eyes still dark and penetrating, her hair still pulled back in that shiny tail. She’s dressed in the plain cadet uniform Razor gave us last night. In fact, June doesn’t look all that different from the photo on her military ID. She’s the only one of us who isn’t equipped with a mike and earpiece, for obvious reasons. I try to catch her gaze a few times while Kaede works on my appearance.
Less than an hour later, we head down the main Vegas strip in Razor’s officer jeep. We pass several of the first pyramids—the Alexandria dock, the Luxor, the Cairo, the Sphinx. All named after some ancient pre-Republic civilization, or at least that’s what we were taught back when the Republic actually allowed me in school. They look different during the day, with their bright beacon lights off and edges unlit, looming like giant black tombs in the middle of the desert. Soldiers bustle in and out of their entrances. It’s good to see so much activity—all the better for us to blend in. I go over our own uniforms again. Polished and authentic. I can’t get used to it, even though June and I have technically been passing as soldiers for weeks. The collar scratches at my neck, and the sleeves feel way too stiff. I don’t know how June could stand wearing this stuff all the time. Does she at least like how it looks on me? My shoulders do seem a little broader.
“Stop tugging on your uniform,” June whispers when she sees me fiddling with the edges of my military jacket. “You’re messing up its alignment.”
It’s the most I’ve heard her say in an hour. “You’re just as nervous,” I reply.
June hesitates, then turns away again. Her jaw is clenched as if to keep herself from blurting something out. “Just trying to help,” she mutters.
After a while, I reach over to squeeze her hand once. She squeezes back.
Finally, we reach the Pharaoh, the landing dock where the RS Dynasty is resting. Razor ushers us out, then has us stand at attention. Only June falls out of line, stopping beside Razor and facing off to one side of the street. I watch her discreetly.
A second later, another soldier melts from the crowd and nods at Razor, then at June, who straightens her shoulders, joins up behind the soldier, and disappears back into the street crowd. Out of sight, just like that. I exhale, hollowed out by her sudden absence.
I won’t see her again until the whole thing’s over. If it all goes well. Don’t think like that. It will go well.
We head inside with the tides of other soldiers filing into and out of the Pharaoh. The interior is huge; beyond the main entrance, the ceiling stretches all the way up to the top of the pyramid and ends with the base of the RS Dynasty, where I can see tiny figures boarding through a maze of ramps and walkways. Rows of barrack doors line each level of the pyramid’s sides. Long marquees of text run across each wall with a never-ending onslaught of departure and arrival times. Diagonal elevators run along each of the pyramid’s four main edges.
Here, Razor leaves us behind. One second he’s walking ahead, and the next he takes an abrupt turn through the crowds and melts in with the sea of uniforms. Kaede continues walking without hesitation, but slows enough so we’re side by side. I can barely see her lips move, but her voice echoes with razor-sharp clarity from my earpiece.
“Razor will board the Dynasty with the other officers, but we can’t go in with the soldiers or we’ll get ID’d. So sneaking in is our next best option—”
My eyes go up to the airship’s base, skimming across the nooks and crannies lining its sides. I think back on the time when I broke into a grounded airship and stole two bags’ worth of canned food. Or the time I sank a smaller airship in Los Angeles’s lake by flooding its engines. For both cases, there was one easy way of getting in undetected. “The garbage chutes,” I murmur back through my own mike.
Kaede gives me a quick, approving grin. “Spoken like a true Runner.”
We make our way through the crowds until we reach an elevator terminal at one of the pyramid’s corners. Here we blend in with the small group clustered in front of the elevator door. Kaede clicks her mike off to make small talk with me, and I’m careful not to make eye contact with the other soldiers. So many of them are younger than I’d imagined, even close to my age, and several already have permanent injuries—metal limbs like my own, a missing ear, a hand covered with burn scars. I glance up again at the Dynasty, this time long enough to note all the garbage chute openings along the side of the hull. If we’re going to shimmy our way up into this airship, we’re going to have to do it fast.
Soon the elevator comes. We take the nauseating ride up the diagonal side of the pyramid, then wait at the top while everyone else files out. We exit last. As the others scatter to either side of the top hall leading toward the airship’s entrance ramps, Kaede turns to me.
“One more flight for us,” she says, nodding toward a narrower set of stairs at the end of the hall that lead up to the pyramid’s inside ceiling. I study it quietly. She’s right. These stairs go right up into the ceiling (and probably lead up to the roof), and all along this ceiling are mazes of metal scaffolding and crisscrossing support beams. From here, the docked airship’s back side casts a shadow across the ceiling that swathes this part of it in darkness. If we can leap off the middle of this last flight of stairs and climb up into that mess of metal beams, we can make our way over to the airship undetected in the shadows and climb up the dark side of the hull. Plus, the air vents are noisy this close up. That, along with the noise and bustle of the base, should mask any sounds we make.
Here’s hoping my new leg holds up. I stomp down on it twice to test it. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s a little pressure where my flesh meets the metal, like it hasn’t completely fused yet. Still, I can’t help smiling. “This’ll be fun, yeah?” I say. I’m almost back in my element, at least for a moment, back where I’m at my best.
We make our way up into the shadowy stairs, and then each of us takes the short leap up into the scaffolding and climbs into the beams. Kaede’s first. She struggles a little with her bandaged arm, but manages to get a good grip after some shuffling. Then it’s my turn. I swing effortlessly up into the beams and weave my body into the shadows. Leg’s good so far. Kaede watches me approvingly.
“Feeling mighty fine,” I whisper.
“I can see that.”
We travel in silence. My pendant slips out of my shirt a couple of times and I have to tuck it back in. Sometimes I look down or toward the airship; the floor of the landing base is packed with cadets of all ranks, and now that most of the Dynasty’s previous crew have rotated out of the ship, the new ones are starting to form long lines at the entrance ramps. I watch as each one passes through a quick inspection, ID check, and body scan. Far below us, more cadets are accumulating near the elevator doors.
Suddenly I pause.
“What’s the problem?” Kaede snaps.
I hold up a finger. My eyes are fixed on the ground, frozen on a familiar figure who’s cutting his way through the crowd.
Thomas.
This trot’s tracked us all the way from Los Angeles. He stops now and then to question what seem like random soldiers. With him is a dog so white, it stands out like a beacon from this height. I rub my eyes to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Yep, he’s still there. He continues to weave his way through the crowd, one hand on the gun at his waist, the other holding the leash to that enormous white shepherd. A small line of soldiers follows him. My limbs turn numb for an instant, and suddenly all I see is Thomas lifting his gun and pointing it at my mother, Thomas beating me to a pulp in a Batalla Hall interrogation room. My vision swims in red.
Kaede notices what’s holding my attention and turns her head down to the ground floor too. Her voice snaps me back. “He’s here for June,” she whispers. “Keep moving.”
Immediately I begin to crawl again, even though my whole body’s shaking. “June?” I whisper back. I can feel my rage rising. “You guys put him, of all people, onto June’s trail?”
“It was for a good reason.”
“And what’s that?”
Kaede sighs impatiently. “Thomas won’t hurt her.”
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. I force myself to keep going. No choice but to trust Kaede now. Eyes forward. Keep moving. My hands tremble and I fight to steady them, to push down my hatred. The thought of Thomas putting his hands on June is more than I can bear. If I focus on that now, I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else.
Stay. Calm.
Below us, Thomas’s patrol keeps making their way through the masses. He’s gradually moving toward the elevators.
We reach the hull of the ship. From here, I can see the line of soldiers waiting to get in via the ramps. That’s when I hear the white shepherd’s first bark. Thomas and his soldiers are now gathered at one of the elevator terminals. The same one we went through. The dog is barking relentlessly, his nose pointed at the elevator door, his tail wagging. Eyes forward. Keep moving.
I glance back down at the ground level. Thomas has one hand pressed tightly against what must be his earpiece. He stands there for a minute, as if struggling to understand something he’s hearing. Then, suddenly, he shouts at his men and they start heading away from the elevators. Back into the crowds of soldiers.
They must have found June.
We make our way across the shadows of the pyramid’s ceiling until we’re perched close enough to the dark side of the ship’s hull. It looms a good dozen feet away from us, with only a lone metal ladder running vertically up its side to the top of the ship’s deck. Kaede readjusts her balance on the metal beams, then turns back to me. “Make the first jump,” she says. “You’re better.”
Time to move. Kaede shifts enough so I can get a good angle on the ship. I adjust my footing, brace myself, hope my leg stays intact, then take a giant leap. My body slams against the ladder bars with a muffled thud, and I grit my teeth to keep from yelling. Pain lances up and down my healing leg. I wait for a few seconds, letting the strain die down before I start climbing again. I can’t see the patrol anymore from this back side, but that means—hopefully—that they can’t see us either. Better yet, I hope they’re gone. Behind me I hear Kaede take her own leap and hit the ladder several feet below me.
Finally, I reach the garbage chute opening. I launch off from the ladder—my hands catch the side of the chute and my arms swing me right into the darkness. There’s another jolt of pain, but the leg still pulses with newfound energy, strong for the first time in a long time. I dust off my hands and stand up. The first thing I notice inside the chute is the cold air. They must have the insides of the ship cooled for the launch.
Moments later, Kaede swings inside too. She winces, rubbing at the cast of her still-injured arm, then shoves me in the chest. “Don’t just stop like that in the middle of a climb,” she snaps. “Always keep moving. We can’t afford for you to be impulsive.”
“Then don’t give me a reason to be impulsive,” I snap back. “Why didn’t you tell me Thomas was coming for June?”
“I know your history with that captain,” Kaede replies. She squints into the dark, then motions for us to start climbing up the chute. “And Razor didn’t think it would do you any good to worry about it in advance.”
I’m ready to fire back, but Kaede shoots me a warning glance. With effort, I manage to swallow my anger. I remind myself of why I’m here. This is for Eden. If Razor thinks June is safest under Thomas’s watch, then so be it. But what are they going to do with June once they’ve got her? What if something goes wrong, and Congress or the courts do something that Razor didn’t plan for? How can he be so sure that everything will go smoothly?
Kaede and I make our way up the chute until we reach the lower levels of the Dynasty. We stay hidden behind a stairwell in a lonely back engine room until takeoff, when the steam pistons flare to life and we feel the pressure of the rising ship push against our feet as it lifts free from the landing base. I hear giant cables snapping loose from the ship’s sides and the roar of applause from the base crew cheering another successful liftoff.
After a half hour passes, when my anger’s finally had time to cool, we emerge from the stairwell. “Let’s go this way,” Kaede murmurs as we reach a tiny room with two paths—one leading to the engines and the other leading straight up to the lower floors. “Sometimes they run surprise inspections on the entrances to the base deck. We might have fewer problems in the engine rooms.” She pauses, pressing a hand to her ear and frowning in concentration.
“What is it?”
“Sounds like Razor is in,” she replies.
My leg feels a little sore as we continue, and I find myself walking with a very slight limp. We head up another stairwell that leads to the engine rooms, bumping into a couple of soldiers along the way, until we hit a floor marked “6” where the stairs stop. We wander down this hall for a while before pausing at a narrow door. A sign reads TO ENGINE ROOMS A, B, C, D.
A lone guard waits by the door. He glances up, sees us, and straightens from his slouch. “What do you two want?” he mutters.
We exchange casual salutes. “We were sent here to see someone,” Kaede lies. “Engine room personnel.”
“Yeah? Who?” He squints at Kaede in disapproval. “You’re a pilot, aren’t you? You should be on the upper deck. They’re doing inspections.”
Kaede’s ready to protest, but I interrupt her and put on a sheepish face. I say the only thing I can think of that he probably won’t question. “All right, soldier to soldier,” I mutter to the guard, sneaking a sideways glance at Kaede. “We, ah . . . we were hunting for a good place to . . . you know. We figured the engine rooms should work.” I give him an apologetic wink. “I’ve been trying to get a kiss out of this girl for weeks. Knee surgery got in the way.” I pause here and demonstrate an exaggerated version of my limp for him.
The guard suddenly grins and lets out a surprised laugh, as if he’s pleased to have a role in something naughty. “Ah, I see,” he says, glancing sympathetically at my leg. “She’s a cute one.” I laugh with him, while Kaede plays along by rolling her eyes.
“Like you said,” Kaede tells the guard as he unlocks the door for us. “I’m late for inspections. We’ll be fast—we’re heading up to the top deck in a few minutes.”
“Good luck, you poor bastards,” he calls to us as we head inside. We exchange lazy salutes with him.
“I had a really good story ready to tell him,” Kaede whispers as we go. “Nice cover from you, though. You think of that one all by yourself?” She smiles slyly and looks me over from head to toe. “Too bad I got stuck with such an ugly sidekick.”
I hold both hands up in mock defense. “Too bad I got stuck with such a liar.”
We walk along a cylindrical corridor bathed in a dim, red light. Even down here, flat screens roll a stream of news and airship updates. They’re displaying a list of where all the Republic’s active airships are headed, along with their dates and schedules. Apparently twelve are airborne at the moment. As we pass one of the screens, my eyes skim down to the RS Dynasty.
REPUBLIC SHIP DYNASTY | DEPARTURE: 0851 OCEAN STANDARD TIME, 01.13 FROM PHARAOH DOCK, LAS VEGAS, NV | ARRIVAL: 1704 BORDER STANDARD TIME, 01.13 AT BLACKWELL DOCK, LAMAR, CO
Lamar. We’re headed for a warfront city up north. One step closer to Eden, I remind myself. June will be fine. This mission will all be over soon.
The first room we enter is enormous—rows and rows of giant boilers and hissing vents, with dozens of workers operating each one. Some are checking temperatures, while others are shoving something like white coal into furnaces. They’re all dressed in the same outfit Tess had on right before she left us at the Venezia. We hurry along through one of the rows of boilers until we push through the next door. One more stairwell. Then we emerge onto the Dynasty’s lower deck.
This airship is enormous. I’ve been on board airships before, of course. When I was thirteen, I snuck onto the flight deck of the RS Pacifica and stole fuel from three F-170 fighter jets, then sold it on the black market for a good price. But I’ve never been inside one of this size. Kaede leads us out the door of the stairwell and onto a metal walkway that opens up into a view of all the floors above us. Soldiers are everywhere. We walk with them, careful to keep our faces expressionless. Here on the lowest floor, several formations of troops run through drills. Doors line the corridors, and in between every four doors is a flat screen displaying news. The new Elector’s portrait hangs above each screen. They sure move fast, don’t they?
Razor’s office is one of a half dozen that line the walls of the fourth deck, with a silver Republic seal embedded in its door. Kaede knocks twice. When she hears Razor’s voice calling for us to enter, she ushers us inside, then shuts the door carefully behind her and snaps to attention. I follow her lead. Our boots click against the hardwood floor. Something in the room smells faintly like jasmine, and as I take in the ornate, spherical wall lamps and the Elector’s portrait on the back wall, I realize how chilly it is in here. Razor stands by his desk with his hands behind his back, all fancy in his formal commander uniform, talking to a woman dressed in a similar outfit.
It takes me a second to realize that the woman is Commander Jameson.
Kaede and I both freeze in our tracks. After the shock of seeing Thomas, I’d simply assumed that if Commander Jameson was anywhere in Vegas, she’d be at the pyramid dock, monitoring her captain’s progress. I never thought she’d be on the ship. Why is she going to the warfront?
Razor nods in our direction as both Kaede and I salute him. “At ease,” he says to us, then turns his attention back to Commander Jameson. Beside me, I can sense Kaede’s tension. My street instincts kick in. If Kaede’s anxious, that means the Patriots hadn’t planned on Commander Jameson’s being here. My eyes dart to the door’s lock; I imagine myself whirling around, flinging the door open, and swinging over the balcony railings to the deck below. The ship’s layout plays in my thoughts like a three-dimensional map. I need to be ready to bolt if she recognizes me. Gotta have my escape route ready.
“I’ve been advised to keep my eyes open,” Commander Jameson says to Razor. He seems completely unfazed—his shoulders are relaxed, and he’s wearing an easy smile. “And so should you, DeSoto. If you notice anything odd, come to me. I’ll be ready.”
“Of course.” Razor tips his head respectfully at Commander Jameson, even though his uniform’s insignias indicate that he’s her senior. “All the best to you, and to Los Angeles.”
They exchange casual salutes. Then Commander Jameson begins walking toward the door. I force myself to remain still, but every muscle is screaming at me to escape.
Commander Jameson passes me, and I wait quietly as she scans me from head to toe. From the corner of my eyes, I can see the hard lines of her face and the thin, scarlet slash of her lips. Behind her expression is an icy nothingness—a complete lack of emotion that injects both fear and hate into my blood. Then I notice that her hand is bandaged. Still injured from when she’d held me captive at Batalla Hall, when I’d bitten it almost down to the bone.
She knows who I am, I think. A bead of sweat trickles down my back. She must know. Even with this brief glance, she can see right through my disguise, this dark cropped hair and synthetic scar and brown contact lenses. I wait for her to raise the alarm. My boots tilt against the ground, ready to run. My healing leg pulses.
But the split second passes, and Commander Jameson’s gaze swivels away as she reaches the door. I step back from the cliff. “Your uniform is rumpled, soldier,” she calls back to me with distaste. “If I were Commander DeSoto, I’d give you a dozen laps as punishment.”
She steps away, walks through the door, and disappears. Kaede locks the door again—her shoulders slouch, and I hear her let out a breath. “Nice one,” she says to Razor as she plops down on the office’s couch. Her voice drips sarcasm.
Razor motions for me to sit as well. “We have you to thank, Kaede,” he says. “For our young friend’s first-rate disguise.” Kaede beams at his compliment. “I apologize for the unexpected surprise. Commander Jameson has gotten wind of June’s arrest. She wanted to board the ship to see if anything else turned up.” He sits down behind his desk. “She’s taking a plane back to Vegas now.”
I feel weak. As I rest on the couch beside Kaede, I can’t help keeping an eye on the windows in case Commander Jameson comes back for something. The windows are made of frosted glass. Can anyone from below see us up here?
Kaede’s already relaxed again, chatting up a storm with Razor about our next steps. What time we’ll land, when we should regroup in Lamar, whether decoy soldiers at the capital are in place. But I just sit and think about Commander Jameson’s expression. Of all the Republic officers I’ve come across, except maybe for Chian, only Commander Jameson’s eyes can freeze me to my core. I fight down the memory of how she’d ordered my mother’s death—and John’s execution. If Thomas has June under arrest, what will Commander Jameson do to her? Can Razor actually keep her protected? I close my eyes and try to send a silent thought to June.
Stay safe. I want to see you again when all this is done.