A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(79)

There were two obvious openings – the drop point for the scrap, and the exit for the barrels. Both seemed like stupid ideas. There had to be Mothers or cameras or something there, making sure no girls got out. What she’d had her binoculars focused on for the past day was way more interesting – and way more scary. There was a short tower on the side of the factory, and on top of it, a door. A person-sized door with a small platform attached to it, the kind of thing she imagined a skiff could dock itself to. There was no telling what was through the door – or who. She remembered the Mother holding Jane 64, staring furiously at the hole in the wall, unable to step beyond it. She was pretty sure the Mothers never left the factories. Couldn’t leave the factories. That meant this was a door for people . . . but what kind of people?

Those were the questions that had kept her there in the scrap pile, tucked into a small cubby, switching her legs to get the ache out of them. The door hadn’t moved since she’d got there, not in a whole day. No skiffs, no people. Just a door, with who knew what on the other side.

She had to try.

She left her cubby that night, moving quick and quiet through the yard. She was scared – stupid scared – but it was this or nothing. It was this, or hang out in the shuttle for ever, until everything broke beyond repair or the dogs got her, whichever came first. No way. No f*cking way.

‘I’m not leaving my bones here,’ she said to herself as she moved. ‘I’m not leaving my bones here.’

She had a different weapon for this trip – a gun, or something rather like one. It was smaller, lighter, fit comfy in one hand. It could kill a dog, sure, but it wasn’t meant for that. This weapon was meant for something she really, really hoped she wouldn’t have to do. Owl hadn’t said much when Jane had built it. What was there to say? They both knew what was at stake. They both knew what it might cost.

Jane reached the edge of the factory. A metal ladder led up to the platform, rusty and cold. She stood under it, feet heavy, hands shaking.

‘Shit,’ she whispered. She ran her hands over her head. She wanted to turn around. She wanted nothing more than to turn right the hell around and go home.

She climbed the ladder. She hoped she’d climb back down it.

The door at the top didn’t have a latch or a handle. There was some kind of scanning pad instead, and she had no idea what would happen if she touched it. Was it keyed to particular fingerprints, or bio readings? Would an alarm go off if the wrong person put their hand on it? Would—

She had more questions, but they vanished the second the door opened and a man stood in its place.

Jane almost shot him. That’s what weapons were for, and she had one humming in her hand. But she wasn’t dealing with a dog. This was a man – a man, like in the sims. A young man, she guessed, maybe a little older than her. A man who looked ready to shit himself. He stared at her. She stared back. He looked at the gun, confused, terrified. He was a person – a person! – like she was, made of breath and blood and bones. She raised her weapon higher.

‘Are there alarms?’ she asked. It had been a long time since she’d spoken Sko-Ensk, and the words would’ve felt weird on her lips even if they hadn’t been dry and trembling.

The man shook his head.

‘Are there cameras?’

He shook his head again.

‘Can I get inside without anyone else seeing me?’

He nodded.

‘Are you lying? If you’re lying, I’m not – I’m not kidding—’ She wrapped her other hand around the gun. Stars, who was she right now?

The man shook his head furiously, his eyes begging.

She jabbed the gun at him, like she’d seen done in the sims. ‘Inside. Now.’

The man stepped backward slowly. She followed, hardly daring to blink. She took one hand off the gun and closed the door behind her. He stepped back into a room – a not-very-big room, full of control panels and monitors and – drawings? There were drawings tacked to the blank spots on the walls. Waterfalls. Canyons. Forests. Jane frowned. What the f*ck was this? This guy was Enhanced, had to be. He was tall and healthy and had hair, which was hard not to stare at. But he was in a factory. Alone, it seemed. What was he doing there?

The man’s eyes flickered to a control panel with a large red button on one side. Jane didn’t have to think hard to guess what it was. ‘Don’t,’ she said, keeping the gun high. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

He looked to the floor, shoulders slumped.

Okay, Jane thought. Okay. Now what? She was in a room, in a factory, with a freaked-out stranger and no plan. ‘Sit,’ she said, nodding at a chair. The man obeyed. She looked at the monitors. Live camera feeds, all gut-punchingly familiar. Conveyor belts. Scrap piles. Sleeping little bodies in a dorm room, two to a bunk. Mothers, walking the halls. Mothers. Mothers.

Jane wanted to scream.

‘Do you watch them?’ she asked, angling her head toward the feed of the dorm. ‘Is that your – is that what you do here?’

The man nodded.

‘Why?’ She had a job to do, yes, but this was confusing as shit. Had her factory had someone like this? Someones, maybe?

The man looked pained. He said nothing.

‘Why?’ Jane repeated. ‘Are you . . . are you some kind of backup? Like a failsafe? In case the girls take over or the Mothers break down?’