Truth (8 page)

XIII

“B
efore I click us all on together,” Wei said, “I need to warn you . . . Paulette Gold is one of the Sisterhood.”

“Paulette?” I bet she wanted to be in a group with me as much I did with her.

“Yeah. I couldn’t help but notice the other day when I mentioned her, you were, well . . . you didn’t seem to like her.”

“I don’t like her because I think she’s after Sal,” I said bluntly. “They’re always together, you know. I mean, I know he’s off doing something NonCon, but she’s with him. Or was. At least, she was there in the background when I called him at the hospital. I don’t trust her, I think she’s got ulterior motives.”

“You’re not wrong. I know she’s got this thing for him. But I also know that he doesn’t think of her as anything except someone who helps him out. She’s useful—with her family’s connections, she can go to all kinds of places none of the rest of us can. And since Sal is a trannie whiz, her dad sets him up as a driver or mechanic. It’s a perfect cover.”

“So what did she say when you talked to the Sisterhood about me?”

“Uh . . . not much. Honestly, she was about as happy as you are right now. But the other girls are thrilled. Wait until you tell them what you did today, taking those meds down to the Bureau! Nina, you even freak me out with your guts. And I am not easily freaked.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. I freaked myself out sometimes. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

She clicked on her receiver, and three panels appeared on the wall. Paulette in one. Two girls in another. And a single girl in the third.

“Hey, everyone. This is Nina Oberon.”

“Hi!” The single girl waved. “I’m Magrit. But my friends call me Mag.”

I waved back.

“Brie and Dorrie here.” A petite girl with blond, curly hair waved. Her arm was tucked around the waist of a tall, willowy girl whose deep brown skin contrasted beautifully with the paleness of the other. They sat back, an obvious couple.

“Hey,” I said.

“I’m Paulette.” Her voice was sharp as a blade. One she’d probably like to bury deep inside me, from the look she gave me. Anger shot through me, but I held it in.

She clearly knew who I was, but I didn’t know if she was aware that I knew who she was. If I wanted to be in the Sisterhood, I would need to figure out how to get along with this girl. I realized, if she was here on this call, then she wasn’t with Sal, wherever he was. So maybe Wei was right. Maybe she was just a necessary evil to endure, as Pops would say. Thinking of it that way made my “Hi, Paulette” sound a lot nicer than it would’ve otherwise.

“So,” Wei said. “When we all talked, I told them about how we met, and I gave them some background on you. How you figured out where your mother had hidden that FeLS info, and that you saved my life.” No details, she mouthed to me. “And they know that you’re Alan Oberon’s daughter.”

Paulette muttered, “I still say that doesn’t––”

Brie butted in. “Paulette, we discussed this to death already. And, Nina, you should know that it’s not because you’re Alan Oberon’s daughter that we’re inviting you to join the Sisterhood. Wei recommended you. We voted. You’re in.”

Brie, Dorrie, and Mag all nodded.

“If you want to be,” Paulette said.

“Listen,” I said, “if this is a big problem for you, I don’t have to—”

“You’re in, Nina.” Wei said firmly. “Right, Paulette?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

I refused to let Paulette’s attitude get to me. As I looked at the other girls, I saw support and welcoming smiles.

“Tell them about today,” Wei said. “Chris only gave me the bare facts, Nina. I know there’s more.”

The familiar warmth moved up my neck. Doing something in the heat of the moment, like rushing down to the Bureau with Pops’s meds, was one thing; talking about it was completely different. I drew a deep breath and told them the whole story of my trip to the Bureau. When I was done, Mag clapped.

“I can’t believe you walked into the Bureau without an appointment, and with a bag of anything, let alone unauthorized meds. You’re lucky that woman only threatened you—usually they stun first and ask questions later,” Mag said.

“Wow!” Dorrie said. “Weren’t you scared?”

“I didn’t really think about it until after I got out of there. And then I was terrified at what I’d done,” I admitted.

“You’ve got some courage going,” Brie said.

“I didn’t feel very brave,” I said.

“Well, courage is when you act even though you’re scared to death inside.”

“Foolhardy’s more like it,” Paulette muttered.

“Like you wouldn’t do something risky to save one of your family members?” Brie asked.

“In the first place, Brie, my family members wouldn’t put themselves in—”

“Paulette. Brie.” Wei’s voice had an edge I’d never heard before. “Calm down. Shut up.”

“Look,” I said. “Pops needed his medicine. It was something that had to be done. That’s all. You guys do things to help the Resistance, things that need to be done. That’s exactly what I did.”

“Well said.” Brie settled down. “Welcome to the Sisterhood, Nina.”

“Yeah, welcome,” Dorrie said.

“Definitely. Glad to have you.” Mag chimed in.

“Right.” Paulette stared straight ahead.

This wasn’t going to be hearts and flowers, not with Paulette in the group. But at least I was in. That was good.

“So is now the time to talk about, you know . . . Joan?” I asked Wei.

“Yeah. They know some of the truth about FeLS, but I haven’t filled them in on Joan’s situation. Now’s as good a time as any.”

“FeLS? There’s more than the sex-slavery crap?” Dorrie sat up. “That is the most disgusting . . . Thank goodness I’m tier three and exempt. Ha! Never thought I’d ever say that.”

Brie hooked her arm in Dorrie’s. “Someday there won’t be any tiers at all. People will be able to do whatever they want to without being held back or forced to be some way they’re not.”

Without trying to appear as if I was checking her out, I snuck a look at Dorrie. Sure enough. Unlike Brie’s ultrachic clothes, Dorrie was wearing Sale-o-rama jeans, like me. I’d kind of assumed all the Sisterhood would be upper tier, like Wei, and obviously Paulette. On closer examination, Mag was wearing mid-tier. Not Mars 9, but not Sale either. We were a mixed bunch.

“So what’s the additional info?” Paulette asked.

“You all know that Nina’s mother was murdered. She’d been spying, collecting information on FeLS, details about how they forced—sorry, ‘Chose’—tier-one and tier-two girls into training as sex slaves, and how the ones who didn’t make it through the so-called training were shipped off to Mars to ‘service’ the miners. And she was killed because someone wanted the evidence she’d been gathering about FeLS.”

Sympathetic murmurs came from everyone, even Paulette. I tried not to let it get to me. I’d spent the last few months steeling myself against the emotions surrounding Mom’s death. I scrunched my sadness deep into my gut; no way would I break down now.

“But her killer didn’t find the evidence. Nina’s mom hid it, and Nina found it.”

I flashed back to that last confrontation with Ed in the abandoned building. To finally finding the package of information my mom had lost her life to get from him . . . Wei’s voice broke through my cloudy thoughts. “Nina and I got the info to the Resistance, to her father, just a few weeks ago. Dad says we should be hearing an Alert on the Media soon.” She humphed. “Should be interesting to see how they’ll spin the fact that only a few girls entering FeLS were actually trained as diplomatic liaisons. How the rest of them were turned into toys for high-level government officials. No one, no matter if they are tier one or tier two, should ever be treated like that. I really wonder what’ll happen when the truth is out?”

Echoes of “Yeah, no kidding,” “About time,” and “That’ll set the GC back” ricocheted around the room.

“So,” Paulette said, “you still have not told us about this Joan.”

“Joan is the sister of one of my best friends,” I said. “She was chosen for FeLS. The sex training. She couldn’t take it, and when she broke, they consigned her to Mars. I don’t know how, but she was rescued. By NonCons, I think. She ended up living with a group of homeless women down by the river. I recognized her one day, and I’ve talked with her a few times. She needs to get off the street and get some care, but she can’t go to anything GC related. As far as they know, she no longer exists.”

“Why doesn’t she go to her family? And what makes her any different from hundreds of other girls just like her?” Paulette asked.

I stiffened. “Her family doesn’t know what happened to her—they think she’s still in FeLS. Do you think she can really afford to tip off the government by letting her family know where she is? Or what happened to her? And also, she’s a friend of mine. And I don’t know and haven’t seen those ‘hundreds of other girls,’ but I
have
seen Joan. I know where she is, and I know she needs help. Whether or not the Sisterhood wants to be a part of that . . . well,
I’m
going to do something, even if I have to do it alone.” I set my jaw. That was it. One way or the other, Joan was going to get help.

“Nina, let me do some checking,” Mag said. “My older brother might know a place she can stay. There are a few safe compounds.”

“Like Rita’s?” Sal’s aunt had a place out in Easley Woods; we’d been there together to deliver a trannie that Sal and his brother, John, had modified for their aunt.

“Uh-huh. Except there are some specifically for women. Your friend isn’t the only escapee who’s messed up, and not just by FeLS. There’s so much violence against women . . .”

“I’ll talk to my uncle, too,” Brie said. “He’s pretty savvy about getting Resistance members and GC casualties to places outside the Americas, where they can’t be tracked down.”

“Don’t worry,” Dorrie said. “We’ll help. Right, everyone?”

They all looked at Paulette.

“Right. I have to go. I’m helping Mom with arrangements for our big New Year’s Eve party.” She clicked off.

A collective sigh of relief followed her exit. “Paulette can be such a pain sometimes,” Dorrie said. “Don’t get me wrong. The Sisterhood needs her, and we want her, too. She gets NonCons into places none of the rest of us can, but still . . . She can cop real attitude sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Wei said. “We all can. Hey, Nina and I are going to Soma tonight. You guys want to meet us there?” Wei asked.

Dorrie made a face. “Can’t. Family stuff for Holiday.”

“I’ll come,” Brie said.

“Me, too.” Mag nodded. “Oh, before we go. Don’t forget, we have a Rogue Radio broadcast set for later this week.”

“And I uploaded a schematic to the guys for vert interruptions on Michigan Avenue the day after Holiday,” Dorrie said. “Thanks for the maps, Mag.”

“No prob.” Mag smiled. “You know me, I love making maps.”

“See you guys later,” Wei said. “Have fun, Dorrie.”

“Right.” She stuck out her tongue before clicking off.

“Mag makes maps?”

“Yeah. She has all the Audio/Video stations mapped out, and provides that information to the NonCons. They take care of the actual interruptions. Rogue Radio, however, is all ours. It’s the one thing that is. It drives me crazy that we don’t get to be more hands-on, but at least we have that.”

“So who does what?” I asked.

“Brie and I mainly provide information. Paulette, well, she lends us all the cover of her family’s top-tier Media status.”

“So I noticed.” I pressed my lips together, not trusting myself to say anything else.

“She also has a way of finding out all kinds of information. Because her dad’s the head of Media relations, she ends up around a lot of Governing Council people. Their wives and girlfriends are really talkative, and Paulette is ultrasmooth when it comes to coaxing things out of people.”

“I bet.” I didn’t want to think of how ultrasmooth she was, not when she was hanging around Sal.

XIV

O
n the way to Soma, my head was full of thoughts about Pops, Gran, and the writ. Amid all that angst, the best thing that could’ve happened, did. Sal called.

“I just this second got home,” he said. “What are you doing? How is everyone? Where are you?”

“I’m heading to Soma with Wei. Damn, Sal, it’s been an awful day. I really want to see you.”

“Give me half an hour to clean up. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” My heart started racing. Sal was only half an hour away. I could already feel his hand curled around mine, our fingers entwined. Despite most of my life being in shambles, it was amazing that just the thought of being with Sal made me all fluttery.

“Sal?” Wei asked.

“Uh-huh. He’s meeting us there.”

Chris dropped us off in front of Soma and with a “See you girls later” he sped off.

“A hot date, I bet,” Wei said.

Derek and his brother, Riley, were already playing. They were amazing musicians, and they focused mainly on some ancient songs from the twentieth century. The lights were dim, but Wei and I managed to find Mag and Brie at a table up front, and Paulette was there, too. Great. Nope, I stopped myself from going further down that line of thinking. No way was I going to let that top-tier snob ruin my mood. I slipped into the chair by Mag.

It would’ve been impossible not to notice Paulette’s quick glance and smirk, probably because I was in my all-weather jeans and a T-shirt. She, of course, was ultrachic. I ignored it, turning all my attention toward Brie and Mag. “Hey, I was wondering if you guys are Creatives, like Wei? I’m trying to figure out what to get for my tattoo.” The GC didn’t let anyone alter the XVI tattoo on our wrists, but at least Creatives were allowed to decorate around it.

“I am, want to see my tattoo?” Brie pulled up her sleeve and exposed a dragon wrapped around her arm from elbow to hand. The XVI was inside the dragon’s mouth, flames engulfing it.

“Wow!” She was ultra-feminine-looking but that obviously didn’t mean she wasn’t fierce, too. Wei had told me that Brie was even more accomplished at Cliste Galad than she was.

Brie giggled. Probably at my astonishment. “People are usually surprised to see it—on me, that is.” Her expression turned somber. “You know, dragons symbolize evil and chaos. To me, they stand for creating chaos to stir up evil and open people’s eyes to a better way.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Paulette said. “Most people’s eyes need opening.”

“Yeah.” I shouldn’t have been shocked at Paulette’s comment. After all, she was in the Sisterhood. But still, it seemed odd to hear that kind of NonCon talk coming from such a snobbitch top-tier. I couldn’t shake my impression of her status as being a huge gap between us.

My thoughts were interrupted by a break in the music, followed by an eruption of rowdy applause from two tables of what appeared to be friends of Derek’s brother, Riley. Riley was in the Early Music program at college; these guys looked like they were, too, the way they were dressed from the same era as the music. Riley joined them, and Derek loped over to our table, scooting between Wei and me.

“You’re here.” He grabbed Wei’s hand. “I thought you were staying home.”

“We changed our minds. You guys are ultra tonight.” Wei poked me with her free hand, nodding her head toward the entrance. “He’s here.”

Faster than a veljet, I was out of my chair, across the coffeehouse, and into Sal’s arms. So what if everyone in the place was staring at us?

We would’ve been joined at the lips for hours if someone hadn’t cleared his throat right behind us, twice.

“Damn.” Sal’s breath on my ear tingled through my body.

Simultaneously, we looked up to see who’d interrupted us.

“Hey, man. Good to see you.” Chris stuck out his hand.

Sal took one arm from around me and shook Chris’s hand. “You, too.”

“And not a moment too soon,” Chris said. “Nina’s so pretty, you’d better watch out.” He waggled his eyebrows.

I wasn’t sure which surprised me more, hearing a compliment like that from Chris—I couldn’t imagine his thinking of me as anything but Wei’s friend—or Sal’s reaction of gripping my waist a little tighter.

“Watch out?” Sal asked. “I can’t take my eyes off her.”

Could that be a hint of jealousy in his voice?

“Who’s your friend?” Sal asked.

“This is Martinique.” Chris circled his arm around the gorgeous girl next to him. “Nique, this is Nina and Sal.”

The girl, who was ultragorgeous, said, “So nice to meet you. Chris was just telling me about you, Nina. I hope your grandmother gets better soon.”

“Thanks.”

Chris took Nique’s hand. “We’ll let you get back to what you were doing.” He winked at Sal, who lost no time in enveloping me in his arms again. Something I thoroughly enjoyed.

However, instead of more kissing, he maneuvered us into the hallway where the restrooms were.

“What’s this I hear about you going down to B.O.S.S.?” Worry wrinkled his forehead.

“Nothing.” I did my best to make it sound like a trip to the grocery store. “Pops needed his meds. That’s all.”

“Going to B.O.S.S. headquarters with a bagful of prescrip-tions? You could’ve been arrested. Then how could I protect you? You have to be more careful.”

“Careful? Protect me?” I wanted to pull away, but also I wanted to tell him exactly what I thought about being “protected.” Before I could get out another word, someone brushed against us.

“Excuse me.” It was Paulette.

“Paulie.” Sal’s voice changed, took on a lighter tone. He snuggled me under his arm. “Long time.”

“Not really. You’re back sooner than I expected.”

“Yep.”

“Did you need something?” I asked, maybe not as blandly as I’d thought.

“Just the Fems.” With that, she sauntered down the hall into the girls’ restroom, totally unaffected by my attitude.

“So how come she’s so involved in what you do?” I tried to keep the peevishness out of my voice, but wasn’t sure I was successful.

“I’ll tell you later. It’s nothing big. Just the way things are.” He tapped the end of my nose. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of her?” I snorted. “Of course not.” My brain was screaming, Liar.

“Good. Because she doesn’t mean anything to me.” He clutched my hand, and we wound our way through the crowd.

Derek and his brother were back onstage, tuning for the next set.

Martinique was directly across the table from me. She leaned in to hear something Chris was saying, and the silver highlights in her cerulean hair bathed the table in a shimmer of reflected sparkles. Running a perfectly manicured nail down his cheek, she laughed. The sound matched her twinkling highlights. I stuck my plain, unmanicured hands under the table.

“Whatcha thinking?” Sal whispered to me.

“That maybe I should dress up a little more sometimes.” Immediately after the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back.

“That’s crazy.” Sal kissed me behind the ear, sending shivers to all the right places on my body. “You look exactly like the girl I love.”

Having only read about swooning in Ancient Lit, I understood now
exactly
what it meant. My body sort of melted against Sal, and I could’ve stayed there all night listening to Derek and his brother play music from a hundred years ago. But then, my PAV, and everyone else’s, suddenly beeped an Alert. It was my first Alert ever, since only adults—sixteens and up—received them. And even then, they didn’t happen very often.

“Citizens, please direct your attention to the nearest projection for a breaking news story.”

Derek and Riley scuttled out of the way as a screen dropped down the wall behind them. Projected on the screen was Kasimir Lessig, the top man at Media. My mother had loathed him. She said he could spew lies and spread venom better than any criminal.

“Recently the Bureau of Safety and Security received information that the Governing Council’s Female Liaison Specialist program, commonly referred to as FeLS, was, in fact . . .” Lessig paused for effect, and I locked eyes with Wei. This was it. The reveal. The Governing Council’s scheme was finally being uncovered.

She nodded, smiling.

All eyes were back on the AV. “. . . a cover-up for a sex-slavery operation.”

The insignia of FeLS appeared behind Lessig. “This information is purported to contain names, dates, audio/visual, and other damning evidence.” Kasimir gave a long, meaningful look into the camera lens. His gaze piercing into every watcher. Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued, “Of course, allegations of misconduct as reprehensible . . . no . . . heinous, as this are simply unbelievable . . .” His expression changed from incredulous to severe. “However, these allegations are, even as I speak, being thoroughly investigated with the utmost diligence.

“As most of you know, FeLS was begun to assist low-tier sixteens, offering them a way out of the bottom tiers into a better life. Girls sign up for the program, and a fortunate few are chosen to attend training at the state-of-the-art FeLS station.” A photo of the space station that held the training facility faded in behind Lessig. “After extensive training in the role of a FeLS liaison, the girls are assigned to specific continental and various extraterrestrial areas. Their training then focuses on the customs and conventions of that particular country or outer-space territory. Of course, due to diplomatic information to which they may be exposed, no communication with family or friends is allowed for the duration of their assignment.”

He shifted positions, and the image behind him changed to a bigger-than-life-size projection of Ed. Taken completely off guard, I gripped Sal’s hand, hard.

He murmured, “It’s all right,” and squeezed back.

“This man, Edward Chamus, is a former Bureau of Safety and Security agent.” Kasimir Lessig appeared to be enjoying himself. “He was removed from active service and installed as a Chooser. It is believed that, through his position as Chooser, he lured many, possibly even hundreds, of girls to a space station replica that has been discovered in the desert outside of New Vegas City.” Ed’s digi was replaced by an exterior shot of a building surrounded by scrub vegetation, low mountains in the distance. “The Bureau is there at this time, collecting data from inside this compound, which was, possibly, a prison for these unfortunate girls.”

If there was any real sympathy in Lessig, I wasn’t hearing it. All I could imagine was the horror Joan and other girls like her must have felt, trapped in the training station. But I knew it couldn’t have been the location Lessig was showing. The evidence my mom had collected had made no mention of a fake station on Earth, just the real training station in space. So what was this place?

“The Bureau suspects that Mr. Chamus was the ringleader of this vile operation. However, it has not yet been ascertained,” he went on, “if Chamus was working alone. Given the broad time frame of these alleged activities, it is not unreasonable to expect that he had an accomplice. Mr. Chamus has not yet been apprehended. His whereabouts are unknown. If you have any information, call the Bureau at the number below.” The pic of Ed popped up next to Lessig as B.O.S.S.’s number scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “This incredible, unbelievable breaking news story will be updated as soon as we have further information. Rest assured, the Bureau will expose the truth.”

The screen went blank.

I whirled around, staring at Wei. “What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea,” she said.

The AV screen disappeared, and the spotlight turned back onto Derek and Riley, who looked more like trapped river rats than musicians.

“Give us a minute, folks.” Riley motioned to the lighting guy to kill the spot.

The lights went up, and Soma began buzzing with speculation. The only people not talking were at our table. I didn’t know what the others were thinking, but I was grateful that only adults received Alerts. Dee wouldn’t have heard any of this. Since she still believed Ed was her father, it would’ve crushed her.

Martinique broke the silence at our table. “Who would think something like that could happen in these times? How awful to think of those poor girls . . . All they wanted was to get out of their miserable, low-tier lives.”

I cocked my head, the sweet smell of her perfume suddenly cloying. “Miserable?”

“Yes.” She smiled at me as if I were a child. “How can there be anything but misery in poverty? Possibly some of those girls even considered their fate an improvement.”

I looked around the table: Wei was shaking her head; Brie was wide-eyed with disbelief. And Paulette was cool, totally unreadable. Sal laid a cautioning hand on my arm, which I immediately shook off.

“Improvement?” I said. “Really?”

Martinique reached up and pushed back a few errant strands of her glistering hair. “Of course. How could anyone in tier one or two be anything but grateful for something that gets them out of their disgusting hovels and their pathetic, sludge lives.”

That did it. I shoved my chair away from the table and leaned forward. “You are the reason stuff like that”—I jerked my thumb in the direction of the screen—“can happen. People are people, not sludge. Humans matter, not credits, not tiers.” I stood up, furious, and barely able to control my anger anymore. “And for your information, I would give anything to be back in my ‘disgusting hovel’ with my mother and my best friend still alive. The only disgusting thing around here is you.”

I yanked my coat off the back of the chair, which clattered to the floor. Ignoring it, I stormed out. Enough was too much.