Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(6)

“It always comes down to power, doesn’t it?”

“Everything is about power, Roselle. The war between the Fates Republic and the Gates of Dawn has accelerated the transfer of power. Census has been hiding our declining population with zeroborn replacements masquerading as Swords, but we’ve been having trouble keeping up with your mother’s production demands. If things continue at the current rate, secondborn Swords will go extinct in a generation. The Gates of Dawn keeps throwing their martyrs at us, and we can’t grow new organic soldiers from infancy fast enough. We had to find a way to convert existing assets.”

“Assets?” I spit. “You’re talking about people!”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Roselle.”

“If the ban on procreation were lifted,” I snap, “Census would lose its power. So instead you kidnap people like Hawthorne and insert VPMDs to make them obey you?”

“It’s called conversion, Roselle. We implant devices that allow us to control the host. Let the Gates of Dawn throw as many bodies at us as they want. We’ll just keep killing them and producing enhanced reinforcements until there’s no one else left.”

“My mother knows?” I can barely contain my rage.

“We needed each other, Census and The Sword.”

“How long will that last?” I ask him. He smirks but doesn’t answer. “How long has Hawthorne been your convert?”

“Not long. A few weeks. We grabbed him at his home after that little stunt you two pulled at the Sword social club—the Rose Goddess Massacre. We had to wait until after he gave his testimony of the event to The Virtue at the Halo Palace, but our patience paid off. I must admit that I was impressed with how you handled our non-converted zeroborns. It showed just how weak they are compared with our enhanced AI versions.”

“Non-converted?” I ask.

“None of the assassins you fought at the Sword social club had cerebral enhancements. It was too risky. If the implants and other enhancements had been found before we were ready to unveil them, it could have ruined everything.”

“Other enhancements?” I think of the steel claws that sprang from the Black-Os’ fingertips.

“Lethal enhancements, Roselle. We’re on the cutting edge of tapping into other perceptions, what some would call a sixth sense. The new neural pathways that the VPMD creates have presented us with some tantalizing opportunities. We’ve commissioned Star-Fated engineers to help us with our research—only the brightest.” I haven’t seen these Star-Fated technicians around.

“You’ve commissioned them, or you’ve kidnapped them?” I ask.

“‘Kidnapped’ is such an ugly word, Roselle. Most of them are secondborns. We appropriated them.”

We leave the room and enter a stark-white corridor. The light hurts my eyes. Windows afford a view of a nursery. Swaddled in temperature-controlled cocoons, infants rock gently in nestled bins. Above them, holographic images of faces hover, talking and smiling, giving the impression that a real person is attending to the infant. These are interspersed with other images, flashes of light that I can’t make out.

“They haven’t gotten their cornea or other implants yet,” Agent Crow says. “The holographic images simulate mothers and fathers or siblings—all of them obedient to Census.”

Thousands and thousands of cocoon cradles fill the nursery. It reminds me of a morgue. “Cranston Atom, the mortician at the Halo Palace,” I surmise, “somehow figured out that something wasn’t right about the assassins at the club.”

“He was clever. At first he was fooled into believing the assassins never had monikers. Protocol for missing monikers demands that Census investigate. It was how we planned to recover all the assassins’ bodies before any other agency could investigate. But Cranston was too good at his job. Later, at the Halo Palace morgue, the mortician noticed the zeroborn monikers were once present in the assassins. He figured out that they’d all been cut out of the Death Gods from the Gods and Goddesses Ball and they’d undergone skin regeneration, but the zeroborn moniker had left behind unique imprints inside the corpses’ flesh. The markings were different than normal Fates Republic monikers. Cranston contacted me after my initial meeting with him to tell me about his discovery, which meant I had to kill him.”

“How did you get away with that?”

“We’re Census. No one questions us.”

We’ve reached the end of the corridor. Another elevator opens before us. Agent Crow steps in. I have no choice but to follow. Hawthorne enters after me, the doors roll closed, and I’m relieved to feel the car rising.

Hawthorne’s sandy hair lies over his eyes. I want to brush it away, but if I touch him, he’ll hurt me. He gazes straight ahead, emotionless. My heart aches with sorrow.

“How is it that Hawthorne was converted weeks ago?” I ask. “I just saw him yesterday in the war room of Upper Halo.”

Agent Crow laughs. “Hawthorne has no idea that he’s a Black-O when he’s not being actively redirected. Unless his VPMD is turned on, you’d never know he’s one of us. His eyes have the implants, true, but they won’t shine. You’d have to examine him closely. He’s the perfect spy because he’s unaware that he’s spying.”