Renegades of PEACE (Secrets of PEACE Book 2) Read online

  Jared wasn’t sure exactly what Ryku meant by all of that, but he had definitely piqued his curiosity. The car stopped a few minutes later and they got out. A long table had been set up in the dirt, and a group of unit A scientists stood in front of it with their backs to Jared and Ryku. All of them wore identical white lab coats, each marked with a yellow band around their upper left arms. Most worked on their CLs, jotting notes or pulling up charts, occasionally glancing up at something just ahead. Jared and Ryku walked around them until they could see what the researchers were looking at.

  Two men stood about a dozen yards away, but they turned and began walking back to the rest of the group when they noticed Chairman Ryku standing there. One of them wore the same white lab coat and yellow armband as the rest of the group, though he was much older, easily in his sixties. The other man appeared to be around Jared’s age and was dressed casually in dark pants and a t-shirt. His brown hair and eyes held a subtle but unnatural red tint, a color that almost reminded Jared of dried blood. Even more unnatural was the young man’s face, which was so hollow and expressionless that if he hadn’t blinked occasionally, Jared might have thought he was some kind of robot. In fact, after two decades, unit A very well could have perfected the art of making humanoid robots.

  The man in the lab coat shook Ryku’s hand. “I’m glad you came,” he said. “I hope you’ll be pleased with our work.”

  Ryku stepped forward, and a still silence fell over the entire group as all eyes turned to the chairman. He walked in slow circles around the stranger, looking him over as a man might survey something expensive he was about to purchase. All the while, the young man stared straight ahead with the same blank expression on his face. He looked dazed and stupid. Jared wondered what was wrong with him and, more importantly, why the chairman was so interested in him.

  “How old is he now?” Ryku asked.

  “Nineteen,” the older scientist replied.

  Ryku stopped circling and took a step back. “And he’s healthy, I assume?”

  “He’s better than healthy. He’s stronger and faster than your average human, with a superior immune system, quicker reaction times, and higher analytical skills. That’s the beauty of genetic engineering. We can manipulate the DNA however we like.”

  Jared opened his mouth to say something about how human genetic engineering was illegal, then shut it again. Everyone knew that already, and saying it wouldn’t refute the fact that there was a living, genetically modified human being standing in front of him now.

  “Have there been any issues at all?” Ryku asked. “Any unexpected abnormalities?”

  The scientist began to fidget. “Well, there has been one slight issue. We thought it would correct itself with time, but so far, we’re not seeing any improvement.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He’s never shown any kind of emotional response. He seems to have trouble even understanding the concept of the most basic emotions. We’ve tried to rehabilitate him, but it isn’t working. Chairman Leon himself worked with him extensively. We’ve run all kinds of tests, but we haven’t seen any conclusive results.”

  “So you have no idea what’s causing this.”

  “We have a few theories, but at this point, our guesses are as good as yours. It might be that his brain doesn’t properly process the chemicals that create emotional responses in most people. It may have something to do with his upbringing. Or maybe emotion is something more complex than science has taught us—more than we can replicate.” He laughed nervously. “Other than that, though, you’ll never come across a more perfect human being.”

  Ryku nodded. “I see.”

  Jared looked into the young man’s expressionless face. Well, that explained that at least.

  “What’s his name?” Ryku asked.

  “Officially, his name is AS3-100104. AS3 for short, but we’ve taken to calling him Revolver. It was the first weapon he tested with—Chairman Leon’s personal sidearm. We’ve been running him through more combat simulations like you asked. Would you like a demonstration?” He gestured to the single holographic target about forty yards behind them.

  Ryku nodded. “Please.”

  The man took a large handgun from inside his coat and handed it to Revolver. “Please shoot the target.”

  Without speaking, Revolver took the weapon, turned around, and fired six rapid shots into the target. The scientist brought up the ballistics summary on his CL and projected it for Jared and Ryku to see. Jared let out a low whistle. Each shot had gone through the center of the target with no more than two millimeters of variation between them. Even Zira couldn’t shoot that well. As far as he knew, no one could.

  “He can do that every time,” the unit A scientist boasted. “Even if the wind is blowing, even if the target is moving, even with his eyes closed. If he’s seen where the target is, he can hit it.”

  Ryku nodded and spoke directly to Revolver now. “What can you do without a weapon?”

  “Much more.” His deep voice was as hollow as his expression.

  “Show me.” Ryku gestured to Jared. “Fight him.”

  Jared started to protest. “Sir, I don’t think—”

  “Let’s just see what he can do.”

  Jared found an open space in the sand that was relatively clear of rocks and brush. Revolver followed, and Ryku nodded at them to get on with it. They circled each other like boxers in a ring. Jared’s stance was wide and defensive, ready for anything. Revolver was much more relaxed, almost casual. He paced the sand in fluid steps with his hands at his sides and his eyes half-closed. He didn’t even look like he was in the fight. Jared made a quick shuffle towards him and struck at his face.

  For a moment, he was sure his fist would connect with Revolver’s head, but the young man darted away at the last second. He moved so quickly it almost looked like he had vanished before reappearing in a new position. Jared shifted the momentum of the motion to his lower body, whirling with one leg raised and his waist bent to kick Revolver in the side. Again, he was sure he would make contact, and again, Revolver surprised him. He caught Jared’s ankle and flipped him with ease. Jared came crashing down on his back.

  He sprung up and threw another series of punches, faster this time. Revolver dodged or deflected each blow with one simple flash of motion. His speed was inhuman. But that was exactly the point. Revolver had been genetically enhanced to be faster and stronger than any other human was capable of. There was no way Jared could hope to compete.

  After landing in the dirt a second time, he decided to quit. He tried to justify the pain in his lower spine with the reasoning that this hadn’t been a fair fight, but there was no point in humiliating himself any further. He dusted himself off as he stood and held his hands up to Revolver in surrender. He hadn’t been so indisputably outmatched in a fight since he was twelve years old and couldn’t help but resent the young man for beating him so soundly.

  Revolver went to stand in front of Ryku once more. “You fight well,” said the chairman.

  “It comes easily to me,” said Revolver. “I was made this way. Jared is skilled. I’ve never had to work so hard against an opponent before except in simulations.”

  “I can see why.” Ryku turned back to the man in the lab coat. “I’ll take him now.”

  The scientist frowned. “But sir, we still need to run some tests. I know I said he was ready, but I didn’t mean—”

  “He seems perfectly functional to me. I need him.”

  “Sir—”

  Ryku leveled a stern gaze at him. “I certainly hope you aren’t arguing with your chairman.”

  Jared almost pitied the man. He’d only ever worked under the much gentler leadership of Chairman Leon and was in for some big changes now that Ryku was in charge. They all were. “Of course not, sir. I would never presume to question your judgment.”

  Ryku nodded. “Good. Please send all your reports on this experiment to my office. I expect to see them no later than this evening.
”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Ryku turned to Revolver. “You’re going to work for me now. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tripp turned on his computer and set up a secure communications link to the rebel base while Zira paced the floor of their new residence. They were in the southwest corner of the Mid Pacific Region in a small, one-bedroom house that leaned several degrees to the west and looked as if it could collapse under the force of a strong wind. They didn’t know how long they’d be there, but aside from the threat of being buried beneath the structure, they were safe for the time being. Tripp hadn’t received a new transport request and probably wouldn’t for at least a few more days; they normally had two or three weeks between jobs. Of course, that was assuming Chase reacted well to the news of Zira’s involvement in Tripp’s work. They’d find out soon enough, but it was possible everything could change after that.

  “How much longer is that going to take?” Zira asked. She’d been dreading this ever since Alma had issued her ultimatum and just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

  “I’m connecting to them now,” said Tripp. He typed a few more commands into the computer. “There—looks like it’s all set up. Come have a seat.” He patted the floor beside him and Zira sat down. The display in front of them showed a simple, text-based communication program. Tripp began typing, the letters popping up in blue at the top of the display.

  We should talk.

  A single line of black text appeared below his message.

  What do you need?

  Tripp typed up a response, then quickly revised pieces of it before sending.

  I have something important to tell you and you’re not going to like it. Just try to remember that I’m not an idiot. I’ve always used good judgment and I survived eleven years out here on my own before I had any help from you.

  We can debate the merits of your judgment another time. Get to the point.

  Zira is here. She’s been working with me for the past six months.

  For several long minutes, the space where Chase’s response should have appeared remained empty. “Does he even know who I am?” Zira asked.

  Tripp nodded. “Absolutely. Alma and I gave him a very thorough report of everything that happened in Grayridge. There’s no way he could have forgotten your name after the trouble you caused back there.”

  Chase’s answer finally flickered across the display.

  Explain.

  Once again, Tripp took a few moments to construct a carefully-worded response.

  She left the Project. They think she’s dead, so no one will come looking for her. She’s been helping me with the transports.

  As an afterthought, he sent, I wouldn’t have been able to do the last one without her.

  Chase’s response came in seconds. Why am I just finding out about this now?

  Easier to ask forgiveness than permission. I knew you wouldn’t approve, but like I said, I’m using my best judgment. She could be a valuable asset.

  She’s dangerous.

  Not to us.

  Tripp paused, softly drumming his fingers against the keyboard. Then, brows furrowed, he added to his last line.

  You brought me into this because you needed me. And I’m telling you now that we need her. Trust me.

  There was another long pause where Zira and Tripp just stared at the display in silence. Finally, Chase replied.

  I want to meet her. Set up the video connection. I’ll contact you in an hour.

  Tripp closed the text program and erased all traces of the conversation from the computer. “Do me a favor, kid, and go get that little camera out of my backpack.”

  She retrieved it from the other side of the room and brought it to him. “He didn’t seem very happy,” she said. “Are you sure you’re not going to get in trouble for this?”

  Tripp plugged the camera into the computer and began typing commands. “For manipulating you into joining our rebellion? Nah. Besides, what can he do to me when I’m all the way out here?”

  “You vouched for me.” She wasn’t sure how much he meant what he’d said and how much of it was just him trying to appease Chase, but she appreciated it all the same. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Tripp shrugged. “I really think you’d be a good addition to the team. Chase will see that, too, once his ego recovers. He just doesn’t like being left in the dark.”

  He finished setting up the camera. While they waited for Chase’s call to come in, they ate a meager supper of canned beans and dry biscuits from the supplies Alma had given them. The computer chimed, and Tripp hurried to answer it. “Hello?” he said, but they couldn’t see anything.

  A firm but mellow voice came through the speakers. “Where is she?”

  “Hold on a second,” Tripp said, tapping a few keys and dragging a new program open on the display. “We can’t seem to get the picture working on our end. Ah—there we go.”

  The face that appeared in front of them was one of many contradictions—contradictions that had probably played a big role in his becoming the leader of an organized rebel movement. It was calculating, but compassionate. Strong, but approachable. Hardened and wise, but still young and modestly attractive, with smooth brown skin and black stubble growing along a square jaw. He looked like a leader, like he couldn’t possibly have been born to do anything else.

  Zira moved in front of the camera so Chase could see her. He stood with a confident, relaxed posture as he regarded her with cool, dark eyes. “So you’re Zira.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You got my people into a damn fine mess up in Grayridge.”

  “Not as much of a mess as they got me into.”

  His lips moved in the slightest hint of a smile. “I assume that’s part of why you left the Project?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now, according to Tripp, they all think you’re dead. What makes you so sure?”

  Zira bristled at the question and considered telling him that was none of his business, but she doubted he’d see that as an acceptable answer. “Ryku sent another assassin to kill me, but he let me go and said he’d tell the chairman I was dead.”

  Chase raised his eyebrows. “Why would he do that?”

  “We were…friends,” Zira said. She only hesitated slightly on the word.

  “I see. And which operative was it that was sent to kill you?”

  That was irrelevant, but she answered the question anyway. “Jared.”

  “Jared. He’s Ryku’s right-hand man, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you still consider him a friend?”

  Zira clasped her hands together in her lap. She’d tried so hard not to even think about Jared since leaving the compound, but this conversation was dragging every painful memory to the surface. “I don’t think that’s important.”

  “Answer the question, please.” The request was polite enough, but his tone left no room for argument.

  “No,” Zira said. “I wouldn’t consider him a friend.”

  Chase nodded. “I just spoke to Seth about all of this. He mentioned another friend of yours—a young woman in unit C who helped you with the Steeles’ transport.”

  The suspicion in his voice prompted Zira to justify her actions in bringing Aubreigh into the situation. “Her name is Aubreigh. I’ve known her almost as long as I can remember. She can be trusted.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me if I have a hard time just taking your word on that.”

  “Then don’t. She helped us when no one else could have. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  This time, Chase really did smile, like he’d just figured something out about her and was pleased with himself for putting the puzzle pieces together. “What made you turn to her for help in the first place?”

  “The Steeles had a problem with population control, and Aubreigh works in that department. We didn’t have any better options. It just seemed like the most logical thing t
o do. And she’s expressed doubts about the Project before.”

  “In what way?

  “She worries that her unit crosses the line sometimes, specifically when it comes to population control. And she’s a good person—sympathetic. I knew once she heard Grant and Natalie’s story, she’d want to help them.”

  Chase nodded. “She sounds remarkable, and the fact that she risked her own safety to help two complete strangers proves she has all the qualities you just outlined. Seth isn’t the only Project member we have working for us inside the compound, but we’ve never recruited a population control caseworker. She’s in a position to potentially help a lot of people—exactly the sort of person we could use right now.”

  Zira scowled. “Use? No. This was a one-time thing. She didn’t even know what she was getting herself into.”

  “And yet she did it anyway. From everything you and Seth have told me, it sounds like she’d be interested in our cause.”

  Zira couldn’t deny that. “Yes, but—”

  “We’re simply extending the invitation. If she feels the risk is too high, she’s more than welcome to decline.”

  But she wouldn’t, Zira knew, because personal risks meant little to Aubreigh when there were people who needed help. Zira had seen it in the way she’d helped the Steeles on a moment’s notice. She’d seen it in all the times Aubreigh had stepped in to protect Zira from bullies when they were kids, before Zira developed the confidence to stick up for herself. But the stakes were much higher now. Failure didn’t just mean a bloody nose or a stolen lunch. It meant arrest and execution for committing treason. She never should have gotten Aubreigh involved in this at all, but it seemed too late to do anything about it now. She glared at Chase as he continued the conversation.

  “Right now,” he said, “I’m more concerned about your motives. Why do you want to join our rebellion?”

  Zira put a temporary halt on worrying about Aubreigh to focus on the real reason she was even talking to Chase in the first place. “You’re going to stop Ryku, right?”