“You have a bright, brilliant future ahead of you, Tristan. Talk to me or talk to someone here at Reach before you do anything. We’re on your side. You’re not alone.”

Not alone. He’d felt so alone for so long, even the words were a comfort.

He shrugged, then turned to the door.

It was ajar. He’d closed it on entering and now it was open.

He shut it behind him as he stepped into the hallway, pushing to make sure it couldn’t just pop open. Belatedly, he realized he hadn’t said a farewell to Dr. Wall.

It didn’t matter. Fear stabbed him in the gut as he looked around, checking around the corner.

When? When he’d shouted?

He’d heard a clicking noise earlier. Who was it? What did they hear?

Fear gripped his heart. If he didn’t own this? If he didn’t release Byron with all safeguards in place? They might condemn him.

A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face as he looked around. Nobody was in the exercise area, and why would an eavesdropper go straight there? No staff in the nearby offices.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Who?

Nobody was here. It was part of why he’d gone to Dr. Wall.

There was a distant noise. He jogged in its direction.

Moonsong. He felt his blood run cold. The light streaked down the hallway, illuminating the colorful tiles.

“Hey,” Moonsong said. “I didn’t know anyone else was around. Do you want something?”

She indicated the vending machine.

He stared at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

She offered him a sympathetic look. “I don’t feel okay a lot of the time either. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but if you ever wanted… to talk, or whatever. Go do something, reminisce, I’m okay with that.”

He shook his head, then realized how it might be taken. “No thanks. Not right now.”

“Take care of yourself, Tristan.”

“You too,” he said.

They parted ways. She went outside. He went to his room.

The television’s channel zero-zero was to the surveillance cameras. He found Moonsong and watched for a minute. She seemed normal.

Seemed wasn’t good enough.

He pulled his old laptop out from beneath the bed, coated in dust and hair, and put it into his backpack. Not a Reach laptop. Those might be monitored. He couldn’t use the Reach internet connection either. He’d go to a coffee shop or library.

Insurance. He’d need insurance.

⊙

Day 72

Helicopters cut through the air. Searchlights illuminated a squat industrial building. The light had a blue tinge, the building itself was terracotta.

Figurehead gave the orders. “We go in quiet. We move as Steamwheel orders from comms. Twelve gifted kids on a special trip with their study group, one teacher, and one guy with a weapon and a whole lot of anger.”