Mars Rising (Domeworld Saga Book 1) Page 13

  "If Planck's execution really sparked it, then I agree as well," Alderman said.

  "I don't mean to interrupt," Scarlett said, "but I'd rather not hear anything that'll get me killed."

  "Isn't that what they want?" Simmons said. "If we kill you, the insurgents think it will tip the civilians over the edge of reason."

  Alderman pursed his lips and looked at Scarlett. "Doubtful."

  "A weak hypothesis," Kearns added. "None of my data indicates the death of Flynn would lead to much consequence."

  "You thought the same about the Plancks," Simmons said. "Then again, you never were one for chaos theory."

  "Please!" Scarlett put her hands over her ears. "If you plan to kill me, just say it. Otherwise, spare me the classified details and tell me what you want me to do."

  "Follow me," Simmons said, and walked toward the door leading to the wall bridge.

  Scarlett looked uncertainly after him, then decided this was probably the final push out of the airlock. Simmons stopped in the middle of the long bridge and looked over the chest-high railing. The door swung shut behind Scarlett, cutting off the droning conversation between Kearns and Alderman.

  "Come here and look around," Simmons said.

  Cold wind whistled past Scarlett's ears as she made her way out to the middle. She hadn't been frightened of the height earlier, but being naked out here with only a rail to keep her from falling, her legs suddenly felt like jelly. The dome above looked nearly close enough to touch, though it was realistically another fifty feet or more higher.

  "What do you see?" Simmons asked.

  Scarlett looked at the shining buildings and green gardens of the science campus far below then ran her gaze along the treeline and out to the north. "Trees, farms, science buildings."

  A hand gripped her belt and her feet flew off the bridge. Scarlett's view tilted straight down and her stomach raced to her throat as she toppled over the edge of the railing.

  Chapter 15

  Somehow, Scarlett gripped the railing.

  Hot breath whispered in her ear. "Wrong answer, Deputy," Simmons said, keeping a firm grip on her belt. "It's either the future, or something that will become a part of the past. Everything you do from this moment on will determine that outcome."

  "Put me down, you son of a bitch!" Scarlett squirmed and tried to pull herself down, but Simmons wrapped an arm around her legs and tilted her even further forward.

  "You think you're tough, don't you, Deputy Flynn?" The investigator chuckled. "I've made people tougher than you shit their pants, little girl. Drop your stupid act and I'll let you back down. Otherwise, I'll let you take the express elevator to ground level."

  Scarlett blinked back tears. There was no fighting the man. Already her fingers ached, and she had no leverage. She was helpless. "Please, put me down."

  "That's my girl." Simmons backed up and dropped her to the bridge with a thud.

  Scarlett huddled against the railing and gripped it. Heart pounding, lungs panting, the world spun and Scarlett only wanted to go back inside.

  Simmons squatted in front of her. "This insurgency seems to think your life is valuable, Deputy. I want you to continue your investigation. See if you can lure them back out. If they don't kill you, I want you to infiltrate them and report everything you hear."

  Tears blurred her vision. She wiped them away and nodded.

  The investigator gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. "I want to know everything, Deputy. Don't make me doubt you."

  "What if they kill me?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "I think they greatly overestimate the civilian reaction. I made sure word got around that you told me about the hidden toughsuit."

  Scarlett's cheeks burned and her tears evaporated. "Why would the insurgents trust me if they know about that?"

  "You'll simply have to convince them." He motioned toward the building. "Let's return inside."

  Scarlett climbed to her feet and walked on wobbly knees back to the door. Once across the threshold, she breathed with relief. Alderman and Kearns looked from Simmons to her.

  "Is she ready to work with us to solve this problem once and for all?" Kearns asked.

  Simmons sighed. "There is no 'once and for all,' Gavin. Surely, even you see that by now."

  The scientist shook his head. "We just have to tweak the variables."

  Scarlett couldn't stop from interjecting. "By variables, do you mean people?"

  "Yes, the subjects are some of the variables," Kearns said without pause.

  "We need you to help us find the precise variables," Alderman said. "The exact people in question. If we can clean the rot, we may save the greater body from a fatal infection."

  "Seems to me that cleaning the rot is what got you here in the first place," Scarlett said. "Maybe threatening and killing people just makes it worse."

  "We can't simply let the people do as they wish," Kearns said in a lecturing tone. "We have to push them down the proper path."

  "Enough," Alderman said. He looked at Simmons. "Can she do the job?"

  The investigator looked her up and down. "I think she's our best chance at isolating the problem quickly."

  "Very well," Alderman said. "Cut her loose."

  Scarlett looked from his dark eyes to the unfocused stare of Kearns and, lastly, to the icy gaze of Simmons. She searched for some hint of grace or mercy in those windows, but found only emptiness where humanity should be. They might have looked like people, but they were so far removed from the population they governed, they'd forgotten what it meant to show compassion or feel empathy.

  Simmons motioned Scarlett to the elevator. "Let's get you outfitted, Deputy."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Outfitted?"

  "I'll explain once we're down below."

  Alderman folded his arms. "Your mission is vital to the survival of this dome, Deputy. If you acquit yourself well, there may be rewards in your future."

  Like Max's reward? "Did you ever make such an offer to Constable Planck?" she asked.

  "The Planck family had every opportunity to do well for themselves," Alderman said. "They chose a different path."

  Scarlett wasn't so sure about that. It seemed these people chose paths for people whether they wanted them or not. "I'll do my best, Governor."

  "That's all we ask." Alderman sounded so reasonable, but an underlying edge to his voice hinted at dire consequences should she fail.

  She stepped into the elevator, Simmons right behind her, and tried to unjumble her thoughts. Her legs still felt weak from being nearly hoisted off the bridge, and they grew weaker still as she realized just how limited her options had become.

  The grand view spread out before Scarlett, but she had no eyes for the world right now. Instead, she had to chart a narrow path between the insurgents and the administration. One side had already tried to kill her, but there was no mistaking what would happen if she failed Alderman. She might not feed at all and end up, instead, like the murdered lab coat in the brassworks.

  The odds of her survival seemed extremely slim. How could she possibly convince the insurgents to allow her into their conspiracy, especially since they knew she'd turned in Max for the hidden toughsuit?

  Scarlett wasn't an idiot. She was a dead woman walking.

  "I wouldn't overthink things," Simmons said in his slow patronizing way. "We'll do our best to take down the insurgents quickly before any harm comes to you."

  Scarlett pshawed. "You don't for a minute believe I'll be able to gain their confidence, do you?"

  He chuckled. "You're a resourceful person, Deputy. If anyone can come up with a plausible reason for joining them, you can."

  "Do you even care who murdered Joseph Britain?" she said.

  "Not particularly." The lift stopped on level 3. The doors opened, and Simmons stepped into a sterile white corridor. "Perhaps you'll find out in the course of your new assignment." He walked down the hall.

  Scarlett followed him, pausing to look through
open doors she passed. Lab coats bent over tables laden with technological gadgets she couldn't even begin to recognize. One of them looked like a droid with an electric unicycle wheel built into the bottom.

  "Please don't dally, Deputy." Simmons stood in a doorway. "In here."

  Shiny white doors and drawers lined the walls. Simmons pressed a thumb against a red eye on the lower corner of one and a long drawer opened with a gentle sigh. Inside were thin gray rods and tiny glass beads on bumpy gray foam.

  "Your badge, please."

  Scarlett pulled the silver star from her uniform and pressed it into his hand. Simmons affixed a glass bead between the top two tines. It was noticeable, but tiny enough that most people wouldn't see it unless they inspected the badge closely.

  "What is that?" she asked.

  "A data pearl—visual and audio surveillance device," Simmons said. "We'll be able to see everything."

  "All from the comfort of your own lab, I assume."

  He nodded. "We'll be ready to aid you at the first sign of trouble." His tone sounded more sarcastic than reassuring.

  "I'm sure you will." Scarlett pressed the badge back to her uniform. "What about a blaster?"

  "Why would you need a weapon, Deputy?"

  She gritted her teeth. "To protect myself, Investigator."

  Simmons closed the drawer. "I assure you that won't be necessary." He touched a finger against the glowing red eye on a tall door to the right of the drawer, and a long rack slid out with the low whoosh of greased rails. Blasters of all shapes and sizes hung from metal rods. Simmons picked up a tiny pistol and weighed it in his hand before handing it to Scarlett. "Perhaps this will do."

  The blaster had almost no weight to it and the battery pack was laughably small. It was still better than nothing. "How many shots?" she asked.

  "Four or five at the most."

  "Better than I expected from such a small battery."

  Simmons smiled. "To be fair, this is only a stunner, not a blaster."

  Scarlett grimaced. "I hope it's enough to stun through a toughsuit."

  "Probably not," he said, completely unconcerned. "I suggest you find your assailants in a different setting than the brassworks."

  "You're so full of useful advice, Investigator." Scarlett pocketed the stunner. "Is there anything else?"

  "I believe this will cover it." He closed the drawer.

  Scarlett thought back to the fight and remembered she lost something valuable. "What about the bladewheel? The insurgents took it from me."

  "I'm certain they've disposed of it by now," Simmons said.

  Scarlett hoped he might offer a replacement, but he turned and walked out of the door and waited by the lift. After they stepped in, she broached the subject. "Can I get another bladewheel?"

  Simmons raised an eyebrow. "I see no need for you to have one."

  "Well, if you want this investigation slowed to a crawl, then by all means make me walk everywhere." She folded her arms and leaned against the lift wall. "It's a lot faster when I can drive around town to question suspects."

  The lift stopped and they stepped out into the underground garage they'd arrived in earlier. Simmons pursed his lips then headed for a door. He pressed a finger to the red eye and it clicked open to reveal shelves lined with wheeled vehicles. Tall bladewheels, some with dual wheels or knobby tires stood at the opposite end, but Simmons reached for one barely twelve inches tall.

  "How long is the charge on the small ones?" Scarlett asked. "I'll be doing a lot of driving around."

  Simmons's hand stopped in mid-reach. He sidestepped and removed a larger unicycle. "This one is twice as fast as the one you had."

  "Thank you, Investigator." She gripped the handle and was surprised by how light it was. Everything is better in Science Division.

  They returned to the toughsuit room. Scarlett grabbed hers but noticed Simmons didn't get his.

  "You'll be leaving at ground level," he explained.

  Since the suit was too bulky to carry with her other supplies in tow, Scarlett braved the even fouler fear-drenched odor drifting from the toughsuit and put it back on.

  "Remember to affix your badge on the outside of your suit if you return to the brassworks," Simmons said.

  "So you can rush to my rescue?" Scarlett said with a wry smile. "I can hardly wait."

  Simmons offered no retort and closed the door to the suit room behind them.

  Despite the stunner and new bladewheel, Scarlett knew she was far from secure. In fact, nowhere in Central offered her refuge. "Staying in my own home won't be safe, not with that thin presswood door the only thing keeping those brutes out. I wouldn't be surprised if they attacked me while I slept. I need somewhere else to stay so I can approach them on my own terms."

  "You're certainly full of requests, Deputy."

  "You want results or another dead body?" Scarlett said. "If I don't get a secure place to stay tonight, I can practically guarantee the latter."

  "You could stay in the jail cell."

  "With Dominic Barnes holding the key?" She snorted. "He'll keep me locked up or let the killers in."

  "Perhaps." A grin creased Simmons's face. "Luckily for you, I'm in quite the giving mood today."

  If this was his giving mood, Scarlett didn't want to see what his stingy mood was like. Whatever he had in mind, he kept to himself as he tapped something on his wristwatch touchscreen as he boarded the electric cart. The motor whined as Simmons drove them up a winding ramp. Just when Scarlett grew dizzy from the constant turning, daylight flared ahead and temporarily blinded her.

  Scarlett blinked until her eyes adjusted. The vehicle's tires thumped across a brick-paved path threading through campus. Tall buildings of glass and glossy white stone towered overhead. Lush grass, flowering shrubs, and trees heavy with fruit occupied perfectly sculpted green spaces along the way.

  A woman tugged a deep red plum from a tree then sat on a bench beneath it and looked at an epad. A man in a white lab coat lounged in the grass, idly looking up at the dome. If this was what the scientists considered work, it was no wonder the civvies had to do double duty just to keep these people in the womb of luxury.

  Simmons must have noticed her gaping mouth. "A nice change from the gray drudgery of Central, wouldn't you agree?"

  Scarlett regained her composure. "I reckon anything is." She craned her neck as they passed two men playing some kind of game with carved wooden pieces on a checkered board. If the civvies went into revolt, if a large number of the workers died, how would this place survive? Alderman and his men might disdain the workers, but they knew deep down that without Central, the soft, fat citizens of Science Division would have to suit up and brave the brassworks themselves.

  Simmons accelerated around a curve, lab coats scurrying out of his way.

  "Watch out!" A woman shouted as the cart brushed past her. Her eyes flashed wide and her face blanched when she turned and saw Simmons at the wheel. "I'm sorry, sir! I didn't—"

  Whatever else she said was lost in the distance as Simmons drove on, completely unconcerned. Though Scarlett wished to know where they were going, she forced her mouth shut. They passed by a glade with a small pond in the middle. Children threw bread at quacking ducks, their excited voices and laughter mingling with those of their caretakers who sat talking on nearby benches.

  A man threw a flying disc in the air, and a dog leapt into the air and caught it. Another group of adults tossed bags toward a wooden platform with a hole in it. The place was a center of activity—none of it the least bit useful to providing anyone with food or other essentials.

  Across the pond, a small herd of deer grazed in the grass near a couple sitting on a blanket arrayed with food. Scarlett had never seen such wanton excess. All her life, the schools pounded conservation and frugal living into the skulls of the civvie children. It was no secret scientists were treated better than civvies, but she'd never expected this.

  As they neared the gates leading out of the compo
und, Simmons twisted the control stick and veered onto a side road lined with small white houses. He stopped in front of the second one on the right.

  Simmons turned toward her. "Welcome to your temporary home, Deputy."

  Scarlett stared at the house with wonder. It had a small green lawn and a white sidewalk leading up to the door. To the right of the walkway, flowers encircled a small tree with red leaves. Even more amazing were the two large windows on the front. It was the most adorable thing Scarlett had ever seen and it was all hers.

  At least until I die or solve this problem.

  Somehow it seemed likely that whatever the outcome of the case, she would not be better off, despite the assurances of Alderman.

  "I don't have all day, Deputy." Simmons made a shooing motion with his hand.

  Scarlett pointed at the glowing red eye on the front door. "How do I get in?"

  "I granted your thumbprint clearance to this house and the main gate." Simmons jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Only the main gate, not the tunnel gate or the back ones, understand?"

  "Yes." Scarlett slid off the seat, tucking her bubble helmet under one arm and grabbing the bladewheel with her free hand.

  The cart motor whined and rubber squealed against the concrete. Scarlett looked back and saw the vehicle turning around. Simmons waved. "Enjoy your stay, Deputy, but don't forget to do your work."

  "Oh, I'll enjoy my stay," Scarlett murmured to herself. She walked to the door and pressed a thumb to the red eye. The latch clicked and the door swung inward. Muted green tiles in a small room waited across the threshold. She stepped inside and flinched at the sight of several lab coats hanging from hooks on the right wall. Cold blossomed deep in her stomach and Scarlett felt like an intruder in another person's house. She set the bladewheel and bubble helmet on the floor.

  Past the front room she entered a hallway with a small wooden table. A framed picture faced her and in the picture, a man with curly black hair holding a gray cat. The ice in her stomach melted in a volcano of rage.

  "Simmons, you bastard!" Scarlett stormed further inward and found the bedroom on the right. The bed, neatly made, occupied the back wall. Next to it was a short post of badly scratched wood. She should have been amazed at the generous layout of the house, but Simmons's cruel joke twisted her stomach.