Cress, Page 2

  “I’m sorry, Mistress. I’ll try harder.”

  Sybil’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be very displeased if you don’t find me that girl, and soon.”

  Held by Sybil’s gaze, she felt like a moth pinned to an examination board. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Good.” Reaching forward, Sybil petted her cheek. It felt almost like a mother’s approval, but not quite. Then she turned away and released the locking mechanisms on the case. “Now then,” she said, retrieving a hypodermic needle from the medical kit. “Your arm.”

  Two

  Wolf pushed himself off the crate, hurtling toward her. Cinder braced herself against the instinctive panic. The anticipation of one more hit tightened every muscle, despite the fact that he was still going easy on her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut moments before impact and focused.

  Pain shot through her head like a chisel into her brain. She gritted her teeth against it, attempting to numb herself to the waves of nausea that followed.

  The impact didn’t come.

  “Stop. Closing. Your. Eyes.”

  Jaws still clenched, she forced one eye open and then the other. Wolf stood before her, his right hand in mid-swing toward her ear. His body was still as stone—because she was holding him there. His energy was hot and palpable and just out of reach, the strength of her own Lunar gift keeping him at bay.

  “It’s easier to have them closed,” she hissed back. Even those few words put a strain on her mind, and Wolf’s fingers twitched. He was struggling against the confines of her control.

  Then his gaze flickered past her, as a thump between her shoulder blades sent Cinder tumbling forward. Her forehead collided with Wolf’s chest. His body released just in time for him to steady her.

  Behind her, Thorne chuckled. “It also makes it easier for people to sneak up on you.”

  Cinder spun around and shoved Thorne away. “This isn’t a game!”

  “Thorne is right,” said Wolf. She could hear his exhaustion, though she wasn’t sure whether it came from the constant melee or, more likely, his frustration at having to train such an amateur. “When you close your eyes, it makes you vulnerable. You have to learn to use the gift while still being aware of your surroundings, while still being active within them.”

  “Active?”

  Wolf stretched his neck to either side, eliciting a few pops, before shaking it out. “Yes, active. We could be facing dozens of soldiers at a time. With any luck, you’ll be able to control nine or ten—although that’s optimistic at this point.”

  She crinkled her nose at him.

  “Which means you’ll be vulnerable to countless more. You should be able to control me while still being fully present, both mentally and physically.” He took a step back, pawing at his messy hair. “If even Thorne can sneak up on you, we’re in trouble.”

  Thorne cuffed his sleeves. “Never underestimate the stealth of a criminal mastermind.”

  Scarlet started laughing from where she sat cross-legged on a plastic storage crate, enjoying a bowl of oatmeal. “‘Criminal mastermind’? We’ve been trying to figure out how to infiltrate the royal wedding for the past week, and so far your biggest contribution has been determining which of the palace rooftops is the most spacious so your precious ship doesn’t get scratched in the landing.”

  A few light panels brightened along the ceiling. “I fully agree with Captain Thorne’s priorities,” said Iko, speaking through the ship’s built-in speakers. “As this may be my big net debut, I’d like to be looking my best, thank you very much.”

  “Well said, gorgeous.” Thorne winked up toward the speakers, even though Iko’s sensors weren’t sensitive enough to pick up on it. “And I would like the rest of you to note Iko’s proper use of Captain when addressing me. You could all stand to learn a thing or two from her.”

  Scarlet laughed again, Wolf raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and the cargo bay’s temperature clicked up a couple degrees as Iko blushed from the flattery.

  But Cinder ignored them all, downing a glass of lukewarm water while Wolf’s admonishments spun through her head. She knew he was right. Though controlling Wolf strained every ability she had, controlling Earthens like Thorne and Scarlet usually came as easy to her as replacing a dead android sensor.

  By now, she should have been able to do both.

  “Let’s go again,” she said, tightening her ponytail.

  Wolf slipped his attention back to her. “Maybe you should take a break.”

  “I won’t get a break when I’m being chased down by the queen’s soldiers, will I?” She rolled her shoulders, trying to re-energize herself. The pain in her head had dulled, but the back of her T-shirt was damp with sweat and every muscle was trembling from the effort of sparring with Wolf for the past two hours.

  Wolf rubbed his temple. “Let’s hope you never have to face off against the queen’s real soldiers. I think we stand a chance going up against her thaumaturges and special operatives, but the advanced soldiers are different. More like animals than humans, and they don’t react well to brain manipulation.”

  “Because so many people do?” said Scarlet, scraping her spoon against the bowl.

  His glance flickered toward her, something in his eyes softening. It was a look Cinder had seen a hundred times since he and Scarlet had joined the crew of the Rampion, and yet seeing it still made her feel like she was intruding on something intimate.

  “I mean they’re unpredictable, even under the control of a thaumaturge.” He returned his focus to Cinder. “Or any other Lunar. The genetic tampering they undergo to become soldiers affects their brains as much as their bodies. They’re sporadic, wild … dangerous.”

  Thorne leaned against Scarlet’s storage crate, fake-whispering to her, “He does realize that he’s an ex–street fighter who still goes by ‘Wolf,’ right?”

  Cinder bit the inside of her cheek, smothering a laugh. “All the more reason for me to be as prepared as possible. I’d like to avoid another close call like we had in Paris.”

  “You’re not the only one.” Wolf started to sway on the balls of his feet again. Cinder had once thought this indicated he was ready for another sparring match, but she’d lately begun to think that’s just how he was—always moving, always restless.

  “Which reminds me,” she said, “I’d like to get some more of those tranquilizer darts, whenever we land again. The fewer soldiers we have to fight or brainwash, the better.”

  “Tranquilizer darts, got it,” said Iko. “I’ve also taken the liberty of programming this handy countdown clock. T minus fifteen days, nine hours until the royal wedding.” The netscreen on the wall flickered to life, displaying an enormous digital clock counting down by the tenth of a second.

  Three seconds of staring at that clock made Cinder sick with anxiety. She tore her gaze away, scanning the rest of the netscreen and their ongoing master plan for putting a stop to the wedding between Kai and Queen Levana. A list of needed supplies was jotted down the left side of the screen—weapons, tools, disguises, and now tranquilizer darts.

  In the middle of the screen was a blueprint of New Beijing Palace.

  On the right, a ridiculously long preparation checklist, none of which had yet to be checked off, though they’d been planning and plotting for days.

  Number one on the list was to prepare Cinder for when she would inevitably come face-to-face with Queen Levana and her court again. Though Wolf hadn’t said it outright, she knew her Lunar gift wasn’t improving fast enough. Cinder was beginning to think that item could take years to reach satisfactory completion, and they had only two more weeks.

  The rough plan was to cause a distraction on the day of the wedding that would allow them to sneak into the palace during the ceremony and announce to the world that Cinder was truly the lost Princess Selene. Then, with all the world’s media watching, Cinder would demand that Levana relinquish the crown to her, ending both the wedding and her rule in one fell swoop.

  Ever
ything that was supposed to follow the wedding blurred in Cinder’s mind. She kept imagining the reactions of the Lunar people when they discovered that their lost princess was not only cyborg, but also entirely ignorant of their world, culture, traditions, and politics. The only thing that kept her chest from being crushed by the weight of it all was the knowledge that, no matter what, she couldn’t possibly be any worse of a ruler than Levana.

  She hoped they would see it that way too.

  The glass of water sloshed in her stomach. For the thousandth time, a fantasy crept into her thoughts of crawling beneath the covers of her crew-issued bunk bed and hiding until all the world forgot there had ever been a Lunar princess in the first place.

  Instead, she turned away from the screen and shook out her muscles. “All right, I’m ready to try again,” she said, settling into the fighting stance that Wolf had taught her.

  But Wolf was now sitting beside Scarlet and polishing off her oatmeal. Mouth full, he dipped his eyes to the floor and swallowed. “Push-ups.”

  Cinder dropped her arms. “What?”

  He gestured at her with the spoon. “Fighting isn’t the only type of physical exertion. We can build your upper body strength and train your mind at the same time. Just try to stay aware of your surroundings. Focus.”

  She glowered for five full seconds before dropping to the ground.

  She’d counted to eleven when she heard Thorne push himself away from the crate. “You know, when I was a kid, I was tricked into thinking that princesses wore tiaras and hosted tea parties. Now that I’ve met a real princess, I must say, I’m kind of disappointed.”

  She didn’t know if he meant it as an insult, but these days the word princess set every one of Cinder’s nerves on edge.

  Exhaling sharply, she did just as Wolf had instructed. She focused—easily picking up on Thorne’s energy as he passed by her on his way toward the cockpit.

  She was lowering into the fourteenth push-up when she forced his feet to stall beneath him.

  “Wha—”

  Cinder pushed up and swung one leg forward in a half circle. Her ankle collided with the back of Thorne’s calves. He cried out and fell, landing on his backside with a grunt.

  Beaming, Cinder glanced up at Wolf for approval, but both he and Scarlet were too busy laughing. She could even see the sharp points of Wolf’s canine teeth that he was usually so careful to keep hidden.

  Cinder stood and offered Thorne a hand. Even he was smiling, though it was coupled with a grimace as he rubbed his hip.

  “You can help me pick out a tiara when we’re done saving the world.”

  Three

  The satellite shuddered as Sybil’s podship disconnected from the docking clamp, and Cress was left alone again in the galaxy. Despite how Cress yearned for companionship, it was always a relief when Sybil left her, and this time even more than usual. Normally her mistress only visited every three or four weeks, just often enough to safely take another blood sample, but this was the third time she’d come since the wolf-hybrid attacks. Cress couldn’t remember her mistress ever seeming so anxious. Queen Levana must have been growing desperate to find the cyborg girl.

  “Mistress’s ship has detached,” said Little Cress. “Shall we play a game?”

  If Cress hadn’t been so flustered from yet another visit, she would have smiled, as she usually did when Little Cress asked this question. It was a reminder that she wasn’t entirely without companionship.

  Cress had learned, years ago, that the word satellite came from a Latin word meaning a companion, or a minion, or a sycophant. All three interpretations had struck her as ironic, given her solitude, until she’d programmed Little Cress. Then she understood.

  Her satellite kept her company. Her satellite did her bidding. Her satellite never questioned her or disagreed or had any pesky thoughts of her own.

  “Maybe we can play a game later,” she said. “We’d better check the files first.”

  “Certainly, Big Sister.”

  It was the expected response. The programmed response.

  Cress often wondered if that’s what it would be like to be truly Lunar—to have that sort of control over another human being. She would fantasize about programming Mistress Sybil as easily as she’d programmed her satellite’s voice. How the game would change then, if her mistress was to follow her orders for once, rather than the other way around.

  “All screens on.”

  Cress stood before her panorama of invisi-screens, some large, others small, some set on top of the built-in desk, others bracketed to the satellite walls and angled for optimal viewing no matter where she was in the circular room.

  “Clear all feeds.”

  The screens went blank, allowing her to see through them to the satellite’s unadorned walls.

  “Display compiled folders: Linh Cinder; 214 Rampion, Class 11.3; Emperor Kaito of the Eastern Commonwealth. And…” She paused, enjoying the rush of anticipation that passed through her. “Carswell Thorne.”

  Four screens filled up with the information Cress had been collecting. She sat down to review the documents she’d all but memorized.

  On the morning of 29 August, Linh Cinder and Carswell Thorne escaped from New Beijing Prison. Four hours later, Sybil had given Cress her orders—find them. The command, Cress later discovered, came from Queen Levana herself.

  Scrounging up information on Linh Cinder had taken her only three minutes—but then, almost all the information she’d found was fake. A fake Earthen identity written up for a girl who was Lunar. Cress didn’t even know how long Linh Cinder had been on Earth. She’d simply popped into existence five years ago, when she was (supposedly) eleven years old. Her biography had family and school records prior to the “hover accident” that had killed her “parents” and resulted in her cyborg operation, but that was all false. One had to follow Linh Cinder’s ancestry back only two generations before they hit a dead-end. The records had been written to deceive.

  Cress glanced at the folder still downloading information on Emperor Kaito. His file was immeasurably longer than the others, as every moment of his life had been recorded and filed away—from net fangroups to official government documentation. Information was being added all the time, and it had exploded since the announcement of his engagement to the Lunar queen. None of it was helpful. Cress closed the feed.

  Carswell Thorne’s folder had required a bit more legwork. It took Cress forty-four minutes to hack into the government records of the American Republic’s military database and five other agencies that had had dealings with him, compiling trial transcripts and articles, military records and education reports, licenses and income statements and a timeline that began with his certificate of birth and continued through numerous accolades and awards won while he was growing up, through his acceptance into the American Republic military at age seventeen. The timeline blinked out after his nineteenth birthday, when he removed his identity chip, stole a spaceship, and deserted the military. The day he’d gone rogue.

  It started up again eighteen months later, on the day he was found and arrested in the Eastern Commonwealth.

  In addition to all the official reports, there was a fair amount of swooning and gossiping from the many fangroups that had sprouted in the wake of Carswell Thorne’s new celebrity status. Not nearly as many as Emperor Kai had, of course, but it seemed that plenty of Earthen girls were taken with the idea of this handsome rake on the run from the law. Cress wasn’t bothered by it. She knew that they all had the wrong idea about him.

  At the top of his file was a three-dimensional holograph scanned in from his military graduation. Cress preferred it to the infamous prison photo that had become so popular, the one in which he was winking at the camera, because in the holograph he was wearing a freshly pressed uniform with shining silver buttons and a confident, one-sided grin.

  Seeing that smile, Cress melted.

  Every. Time.

  “Hello again, Mr. Thorne,” she whispered
to the holograph. Then, with a giddy sigh, she turned to the only remaining folder.

  The 214 Rampion, Class 11.3. The military cargoship Thorne had stolen. Cress knew everything about the ship—from its floor plan to its maintenance schedule (both the ideal and the actual).

  Everything.

  Including its location.

  Tapping an icon in the folder’s top bar, she replaced Carswell Thorne’s holograph with one of a galactic positioning grid. Earth shimmered into existence, the jagged edges of its continents as familiar to her as Little Cress’s programming. After all, she had spent half her life watching the planet from 26,071 kilometers away.

  Encircling the planet flickered thousands of tiny dots that indicated every ship and satellite from here to Mars. A glance told Cress that she could look out her Earth-side window right then and spot an unsuspecting Commonwealth scouting ship passing by her nondescript satellite. There was a time when she would have been tempted to hail them, but what would be the point?

  No Earthen would ever trust a Lunar, much less rescue one.

  So Cress ignored the ship, humming to herself as she cleared away all the tiny markers on the holograph until only the Rampion’s ID remained. A single yellow dot, disproportionate in the holograph so that she could analyze it in the context of the planet below.

  It hovered 12,414 kilometers above the Atlantic Ocean.

  She called up the ID of her own orbiting satellite. If one were to attach a string from her satellite to the center of the Earth, it would cut right through the coast of Japan Province.

  Nowhere near each other. They never were. It was a huge orbiting field, after all.

  Finding the coordinates of the Rampion had been one of the greatest challenges of Cress’s hacking career. Even then, it had taken her only three hours and fifty-one minutes to do it, and all the while her pulse and adrenaline had been singing.