Secondborn (Secondborn #1)(56)

Jakes comes nearer to me. “If you choke up by moving your grip toward the fusionblade’s strike port, Roselle, the hydroblade will extinguish. The opposite will occur if you place your hand closer to the hydroblade. Or you can have both if you keep your grip centered on the hilt.”

Most of the time, I’ll only use one side of the sword or the other because to have them both lit at once is dangerous, unless I use it like a staff. Jakes shows me how to switch off each side so that it won’t pop on accidentally.

“This is remarkable. You’ve done it, Jakes!”

“It wasn’t that hard. The hydrogen cells are abundant,” he explains. I wave the dual-blade around, trying out complex maneuvers. “We use hydrogen cells for powering some of our burners in the lab—it’s heavy hydrogen—condensed. I can show you how.”

“I’d like to learn that.” I want to learn everything he knows about everything. I’m tired of being ignorant. I want to be able to break into consoles, like Flannigan could. I want to write the story of my life to suit me. I want to see the world without restrictions. I want to use my mind to obtain freedom, like she had.

“We get these hydrogen cells in bulk,” Jakes continues. “They last about a thousand hours before you have to change them out and recharge them.” He holds it up. It resembles a silver bullet with a clip on the back of it. “You can put them in one of your armor compartments, or maybe even in your hair. They have clips on the backs.” He slips a hydrogen cell into my hair like a decorative pin. “Just open the housing on the hilt here to reload.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Hawthorne asks from behind us.

Jakes looks startled. “It’s okay. Hawthorne is a friend,” I tell him.

“What’s this?” Hawthorne asks, indicating my new weapon.

“Something we need. Hawthorne, how many merits do you have?”

“A lot. Why?”

“Because I need some to get an ugly mole removed, and so do you.”

“I don’t have an ugly mole.”

I blush, remembering catching a glimpse of him in the locker room with just a towel on. “You have a mole, Hawthorne, and it will kill you if you don’t have it removed. This is the tool that’s going to remove it. Everyone will need to get a mole removed, and Jakes here is the one who’s going to do it.”

I extend the dual-bladed sword to Hawthorne. He takes it, examining it closely. “This is . . . handy,” he says, in awe.

I turn to my Star friend. “Jakes, anyone who comes to you wanting a mole removed, you give him the means to remove it. If he needs to do it on credit, you extend him credit. Do you understand?”

“How many moles are you expecting to remove?”

“An entire regiment’s.”

Hawthorne and I haggle with Jakes over the price of the new sword. He has already made two of them, and I intend to take them both. “When can you have more ready?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m going to need more help—parts—time.”

“Do what you can. Also, look into converting existing fusion-powered rifles to hydrogen. We’ll need hydrogen magazines. If you can think of a way to make it work, I might be able to get a message to Clifton Salloway.”

Hawthorne grasps my arm. “Excuse us for a moment,” he growls to Jakes. He drags me a few paces away around the side of a shipping crate. He positions me with my back to the metal box, his face close to mine, his eyes as dark as storm clouds. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you—you just have to trust me. We have to spread the word about this new weapon, but it has to be a subtle infiltration. Soldiers have to want them because they’re new and in demand, and for no other reason. I don’t know how we’re going to do that, but we have to try.”

Hawthorne’s expression softens. “You just need to be seen using one, Roselle. That’s all it will take. You’re Roselle St. Sismode. They may pretend to despise you, but they’ve watched you for years and copied your fighting moves, your mannerisms, your style—everything about you.”

“You’re an influencer, too, Hawthorne. Soldiers follow you because you’re trustworthy.” I grip his biceps. “Use your sword with me tonight. Practice with me, somewhere that we’ll be seen.”

“You’re acting as if this is a matter of life and death.”

“I’m not acting.”

His eyebrows slash together. “I don’t want you to contact Clifton Salloway—for any reason. Is that understood?”

I drop my hands. “Why not? I’m not going to get personally involved with him. I’m just going to, you know, ask him to mass-produce dual-bladed swords. And maybe a new hydrogen version of a fusionmag. And a fusion rifle with a hydrogen-powered option. And maybe see if he has connections to major airship manufacturers.”

Hawthorne stares at me like I’m insane. “Roselle, Clifton Salloway is not someone you want to owe a favor.”

“Hawthorne, I understand firstborns like him. He’s violently bored. He craves purpose. I can give him that purpose.”

“His purpose will be to get you in bed.”

“I’ll worry about that later. Right now, we have to make this weapon seem like the only one worth having.”