I shift until I’m standing on a piece of tape, then look around at the cameras. ‘Leoben, is that you? Where are you?’
He chuckles. ‘Yeah, it’s me. I’m in Novak’s command centre, helping them hook up to Cartaxus’s network. I’ll be running your code. I see you’ve borrowed some of Jun Bei’s handiwork.’
I cross my arms uneasily. ‘I didn’t think we had much of a choice.’
‘No arguments from me. Anyone crazy enough not to download the vaccine probably shouldn’t be in control of their panel anyway.’
I nod, chewing my lip. He’s right; I know he is. This is the only way to beat the virus. So why does it feel so wrong?
A long beat passes. When Leoben speaks again, his voice is softer. ‘So, Dax told me about the decryption.’
I freeze, glancing at Dax’s screen. He’s still turning his head back and forth, looking at himself. He can’t hear anything we’re saying. Hopefully, wherever he is, Cole can’t either.
‘What did he say?’
‘He told me everything, said I should know what’s going to happen in case Cole, well … in case Cole does what he’s trained to do.’
‘Oh.’ I scratch my neck nervously, unsure of what to say.
‘I misjudged you,’ Leoben says. ‘I thought you were just like Lachlan, but you’re not. I’m sorry. And don’t worry, I’ll handle Cole.’
I swallow. ‘Cole and I, we’re not … I remembered what you said before. I’ve been trying not to let us get too close.’
Leoben sighs. ‘Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have listened to me.’
‘What do you mean?’
Before he can reply, the red light above me flashes again, and the feed to the speakers cuts out with a hiss of static.
The broadcast is starting.
On their respective screens, Dax and Novak are staring straight ahead, poised and still, waiting for us to go live. They’re ready, but I’m not. I still don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t know how I’m supposed to stand, or look, or smile. My reflection is that of a stranger, and my speech is a stranger’s lies.
The speakers start playing a song I recognize as the Cartaxus anthem – a series of strong, bracing chords. It merges slowly into the trumpets that mark the start of every one of Novak’s broadcasts. The introduction finishes, and the dome is suddenly filled with white, blinding light. I try not to flinch or cover my eyes. For all I know, we’re live, and there are currently three billion people staring at my face.
On her screen, Novak gives her trademark smile. ‘Good evening, everyone,’ she says. ‘Thank you for watching, for coming together to share this very special broadcast with us. As you know from today’s announcements, we will soon be broadcasting the Hydra vaccine. To discuss it, we have two important people here today. On my left is Miss Catarina Agatta, daughter of the late Dr Lachlan Agatta, and the Skies hacker known as Bobcat.’
I force myself to smile and give a stilted wave. The dome’s lenses seem to pulse, as though transmitting the world’s attention to me instead of the other way round.
Novak turns to her right. ‘And this is Dr Dax Crick, the man himself. Our hero, ladies and gentlemen. The author of the Hydra vaccine.’
My smile freezes. I stare at Dax’s screen. He should be correcting Novak. He should be explaining that my father is the author, and that he was only his assistant. He should say that he doesn’t even know how the vaccine works, but instead, Dax just shoots Novak a smile.
‘It was a group effort,’ he says. ‘Dr Agatta’s work was crucial in coding the vaccine, as were the efforts of the rest of my team.’
His team? My stomach twists. What the hell is this? How can he be lying so smoothly about something so important?
‘You’re being too modest,’ Novak says. ‘I read the reports of the recent glitch at the Homestake bunker where the airlocks jammed during a routine lockdown. You logged in and closed those airlocks, putting your life on the line to save those people, and you’ve dedicated the last two years to writing a vaccine that will save us all. I think it’s only right to recognize you as the hero that you are.’
My heart slams against my ribs. No. That wasn’t Dax. I used his login and password at Homestake, but it was me who closed the airlocks. Dax is the one who suggested the kick simulation in the first place.
Now he’s taking credit for everything. For my father’s work. For mine.
And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.
Discrediting Dax live on air means discrediting the vaccine. I can’t say anything that could raise doubts with the survivors watching this broadcast. But if I just stand here like this and let Dax and Novak lie, then everyone is going to read my silence as a confirmation.
It shouldn’t really matter. I don’t need credit, and I know my father wouldn’t care whose name was on the vaccine as long as it reached the people who needed it. But that doesn’t make it any easier to stand here and listen to lies coming from the mouth of the man who’s going to jack a cord into me in a few hours and kill me.
I’m about to let these people take my life away, and they’re lying about me with smiles on their faces.
My head spins. Dax and Novak keep talking about the vaccine, about Cartaxus and their labs, about the new joint network. All I can do is stand and stare, until Novak says my name, and everything goes silent.
‘Catarina?’ Novak’s brow creases. ‘Isn’t that right?’
I just stare at her. I don’t even know what she just asked me. I couldn’t hear a thing through the shock and betrayal drowning my thoughts. I want to tell the world the truth – that Dax didn’t save the people at Homestake, that he didn’t write the vaccine, that he doesn’t even know what’s in it. None of us do, and we’re about to shove it into everyone’s arm without so much as letting them read it.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. My father had a plan for us, and this can’t possibly be the way he wanted it to end. This plan has crashed and burned into a tangle of lies, but there’s no turning back now, and my hands are far from clean.
The teleprompter’s screen grows brighter, flashing the speech I agreed to give. The deceit that I’ll be remembered for.
I take a deep breath, stare into the wall of black lenses, and say what I’ve been told to.
I won’t have to live with it much longer.
CHAPTER 33
As soon as the lights in my dome dim, I push through the rubber door, bumping into a camera-wielding bot, sending it skittering across the concrete. Dax’s dome is next to mine. His pale hand slides through his door, but I push him back in, shoving my way through, slamming him against the wall.
His eyes fly wide. He stumbles, his head knocking against a lens in the cramped, curved space. The polished black glass shatters instantly. A streak of blood blossoms on his brow. He touches it, then stares at me in shock. ‘Princess, what the hell?’
‘What the hell?’ I repeat, practically snarling. ‘What the hell was that, Dax? You lied about everything.’