Deathwatch (The Faded Earth Book 1)(26)
It was a subway station.
The first Rez was founded on an island that was part of a great city, and the place those first survivors gathered was thick with subways. Over the course of the Collapse, preparations for a sanctuary there included turning the tunnels into a secure undercity where people could hide should Pales manage to overcome the defenses. Many vids from that time showed the tiled walls of stations, the grimy darkness of tunnels swallowing up shining tracks.
“Where are we?” Beck asked, speaking without thought. She didn’t expect an answer. She got one anyway.
Bowers flicked a hand at the dusty tiled room around them. “Beneath what used to be the capital of the old world. This station is sealed off except for the Loop tube you entered through, and even that has doors we only open when a carriage is coming.”
Beck spun through her mental map of the Protectorate. “There’s no Rez here. Or anywhere close.”
Bowers glanced over his shoulder as they moved into an adjoining hallway and toward an open door. “You’re right. There isn’t. The purpose of a secret base is to remain secret, young lady. Putting it in the middle of a Rez leaves us vulnerable to discovery.”
When they reached the doorway, Bowers waved her in. “Wait here. We will return shortly.”
Beck did as she was told, the door closing with what felt to her like heavy finality. A table with three chairs sat in its center, and she took a seat in the chair alone on one side.
In the ten minutes she was alone, Beck carefully considered her position and decided on a course of action.
*
Bowers and Eshton, no longer wearing his armor, sat across from her with curiously neutral expressions. Had she known more about the Deathwatch—say, as a member of it—this would have seemed perfectly natural. The body will usually mimic a person’s state of mind, and in the Watch self-control and forced calm were staples. The only way to ensure a fair application of judgment and principles was to work from a place of even, unbiased thought.
“You present me with a problem, Miss Park,” Bowers began. “I’m told you’re aware of this problem.”
Beck nodded, keeping her hands in plain view on the table, locked together. “Knowing about your hidden scientist and the fact that you have some secret agenda means I know too much. Either I become part of the team or I die. Right?”
Bowers studied her for a little while without answering. Then: “I don’t suppose I have to ask which you choose?”
“Death,” Beck said at once. Eshton started in his chair, almost coming to his feet. His mouth dropped open to speak, but Bowers raised a single finger. The younger man’s mouth snapped shut as if he were a puppet unable to ignore a command.
Bowers frowned thoughtfully. “Why is that, if I may ask? Do you want to die? I know you lost your parents...”
Beck suppressed a flash of intense grief at the words. They came less frequently, and usually with much less intensity, but the pain was still real. She likened it to a wound scabbing over but healing from the inside out; it took a long time until bumping the injured spot didn’t send lances of pain through your body.
“No, I’m not suicidal,” Beck said. “Though I’d prefer if you didn’t bring up my family.”
“Then why?” Bowers asked, leaning forward slightly as his interest grew.
Beck, knowing she was now walking a path that probably ended with having her request granted, felt suddenly free. Lighter than she had in ages. Unbound by the protocols and cultural mores that only now felt oppressive. “Because I’d rather not work with someone who kills before he trusts. If my options are to lose my life or join the Deathwatch so you can keep an eye on me, then I’ll die free, thanks. Though it seems to me your whole shit organization is worthless if it can’t keep to its tenets. Killing innocent people violates the spirit if not the letter.”
Eshton paled, his eyes darting between her and Bowers. Tension rose in his frame as if he were about to do something breathtakingly reckless, but Beck relegated her awareness of him to the periphery of her mind. She only had eyes for Bowers.
The old man, arguably the most powerful person in the entire Protectorate, let loose a thunderous guffaw of laughter. “Oh, I like you. You have balls.”
“Ovaries,” Beck corrected, “and made of solid steel.”
In truth she was so terrified that wetting herself was rapidly becoming a sincere concern, but that didn’t negate her statement, did it? Standing up to this man felt right.
Bowers smiled, a not entirely pleasant expression. “Did Stein or Brogan here tell you the entire story, I wonder? Why we were so intent on finding this man?”
Beck shook her head. “I didn’t get a lot of details.”
The old man blew out a breath. “Operational security. If you don’t know everything, you can’t be forced to tell it. Well, ask yourself this: why would the people of the old world choose to put their brightest minds, those with the deepest knowledge of the Fade, into experimental stasis chambers that might kill them?”
Beck did not take this as a rhetorical question and spent a few moments thinking about it. “They though it was the best way to carry on the knowledge, maybe?”
“Yes, exactly!” Bowers exclaimed. “And why that is so is at the heart of what we do here. You see, among the survivors of the Collapse, nearly everyone was immune. Very few of those were scientists, fewer still were experts in biology or disease, and even less in the Fade itself. We think of the Collapse as a single event, but we know it was not. It took years, and in that time wars raged, many kinds of weapons were used both to combat the swarms of Pales as well as kill the living. Centuries of knowledge wiped out, huge pieces of the world rendered unlivable. The dust around your Rez is the result of one of those weapons, did you know that? No? It’s true. The dust isn’t natural. It’s the result of millions of small drones reshaping the soil and stone into an airborne weapon meant to shred the lungs of Pales. Didn’t bother them a bit, but it does a good job killing us if we’re not careful.”