The Girl Who Dared to Think 7: The Girl Who Dared to Fight

“Girl, at this point you look like you’re an IT-born recruit on her third day at the Academy, and her drill instructor is Rachel Pine.”

I cringed at the image that conjured, knowing full well that of all the departments we recruited from, IT produced some of the worst candidates, physical fitness-wise. Perhaps it was the sedentary lifestyle of the Eyes, but their kids often came to us overweight and highly sensitive. And the Academy was indifferent to all of that, and ran them ragged to get them in shape.

In the ghostly outline of my image in the glass, I could see that my hair had come completely undone and was standing out around my head, not quite on end, but definitely filled with static. Beyond that, my face was a pale blob, giving me zero indication of the state of it.

“I’ve definitely looked better,” I said once I was done, turning back toward her.

Her smile was lopsided. “Me too. Lynch, you done?”

“Yup,” he said, tapping a few more buttons, presumably to send the message. “Let’s get going.”





16





We made it to the Knights’ supply room quickly, even with me scarfing down a few more chunks of bread and polishing off two more bottles of water as we went. Nobody bothered us. In fact, there didn’t seem to be much traffic on this level at all, likely because all the Cogs were on the upper levels, trying to prevent the spread of the sentinels.

Dylan and I quickly found the lash ends on a shelf and pocketed several while discussing the finer points of when and how to change out the lash ends during the climb. Vertical climbs were tricky, as finding a way to generate enough momentum to create a static charge strong enough to hold our weight was too difficult to safely achieve when throwing vertically, which meant shorter, tighter throws. That was more stress on the lash ends, which would result in them failing more quickly than if we were lashing inside the Tower.

Dylan wanted to plan to change them out every three hundred feet, which meant changing the lash ends out nine times. I overruled her, wanting them changed out every hundred. It meant going slower—we’d have to stop a total of twenty-five times, which was annoying—but considering the climb we were about to make, it was the safest course of action.

I wasn’t any good to my friends dead, so I was willing to play it safe, for now.

As soon as we were done, I gave Lynch my ID number and told him to have his people open the other Knight supply stations up and take as many batons as they could. It wouldn’t be much, but it was better than nothing. He sent out another message, and then tucked his pad back into his overalls and waved for us to follow.

We took several twisting turns down the halls, enough for me to grow a little disoriented about where we were, and then entered one long hall, which was both wide and tall, taking up nearly two levels. A series of tracks ran through the middle of the floor, but the sides were crammed with boxes of tools, equipment, barrels, sheets of metal, workbenches… It took me a minute, but I finally realized that it wasn’t a hall at all, but a storage room.

Lynch began picking his way through the winding path, evidently so used to the sight that it failed to inspire any awe in him, but I couldn’t help but gape. It was cluttered and showed signs of being used frequently. Dozens of workbenches grouped together in a haphazard way were cluttered with tools, and there were various pieces of machinery in the room in different stages of disassembly. Tool bags were hung on this and that, with different last names embroidered on them to signal ownership, scattered all around the room in no particular order. There was even a kitchen in the corner, which showed signs of activity, including a few dishes of unfinished food sitting on a nearby table. Looking at the room, I suddenly felt as if this was the true heart of Cogstown—a place where workers congregated to share stories while working on various projects and replacement parts.

A pang went through me as I thought about those people, and how many of them were likely to die, with what was going on in the Tower. However Sage was targeting his victims, he’d make sure of that. The sooner I got to him, the sooner I could stop it. But I had to get to the others first. They had no idea that he wanted Leo, or that he even knew Leo existed, and wouldn’t be taking the necessary precautions to keep him protected. They assumed he was safely hidden inside Grey. They didn’t know what I knew.

It was frustrating not being able to reach out and talk to them. My entire life, I had taken the nets for granted, and now that I was without even the most basic function of mine, I felt panicky and unhinged. The lack of knowledge was driving me insane.

I quickly moved to catch up with Lynch and Dylan, passing by Rose and offering her a pat on the arm as I went by, reassuring her that I was okay. We passed through the room in quick order, and then exited into another hall.

“There’s a door that’s open up ahead,” Lynch announced softly as he turned left down the hall. “We opened it early on to try to evacuate the shell, and have been pulling people through here and there. So far, there hasn’t been any sign of the sentinels. Still, I’ve had a team of Cogs waiting on us before sealing it up, so we should move fast.”

It was like he was reading my mind, and I picked up the pace to a light jog, ignoring my throbbing aches and pains. The sound of our boots on the metal flooring filled the hall as the others joined me, and within a minute we were slowing down to pause at a T-shaped junction, then moving into it. I saw the door a hundred feet away, three Cog workers standing around it. Two were directing flashlights into the darkened hall of the shell, while one was standing by the gear mechanism, ready to seal it shut.

The one by the gears turned to us as we started to walk toward him, and Lynch waved his hand at him and called something to them that I couldn’t quite hear. They nodded, and then, to my surprise, one of them leaned farther into the hall, partially disappearing. I barely had the chance to ask, “What is he doing?” before three sharp clangs sounded down the hall from the door.

“Trying to signal anyone who might be nearby,” Lynch replied, and I frowned. As admirable as that was, making noise to attract attention would do just that—but not just from the beings with whom they were trying to communicate. If they had been doing that for some time, there was a good chance that nearby sentinels might have heard it, and were on their way to investigate.

That put even more zip in my step, and I wound up drawing side by side with Lynch as we got close to the group of Cogs. “That doesn’t seem particularly safe,” I said. “What if—”

As if my words were prophetic, the man leaning out the door suddenly reared back, taking several startled steps away from it. I threw an arm up across Lynch’s chest and froze, my gut telling me that it was the sentinels, but a stream of people suddenly exploded through the hatch, clawing their way through it as if the fires of hell were licking at their boots.

The man at the door tried to wave them away from us, toward a set of stairs farther down the hall, but several of them broke off and began rushing at us, fear making their motions jerky and desperate. I realized that it was going to be impossible to get down the hall, let alone through the door, with people trying to escape the sentinels that were behind them, and quickly decided to use their fear against them, to keep us from getting overwhelmed.

I pushed Lynch back against the wall and said, “Rose!” in a sharp voice. “It’s time for you to be scary!” She needed no other command, and Dylan quickly got out of her way to let her through.

The effect was immediate, and the crowd broke in front of her, whirling away with desperate howls.