Year 352
My fingers glide across the screen with ease; this may be the final test standing between me and Tier 3 clearance, but I've analyzed data like this a thousand times. This test has a few more variables than I'm used to, but it's not a challenge. I'm given ten variables and an ideal statistic for each variable; I then have to determine the ranking of the 132 subjects based on the totals of these ten variables. Simple.
Assuming I pass this test, and I have no reason to believe I won't, I'll have completed Advanced Training for Tier 3 clearance. This training is offered to Justices and Intellects who have completed their four year internships and want higher-level work in the Civilization. After ten years of education and a four year internship, few people wish to endure four more years of exceptionally rigorous training; even fewer actually qualify and have the ability to complete it. I was accepted, and I don't plan to stop until I've reached Tier 4. After I ace this test, I only need one more year of Advanced Training to reach the highest tier of clearance available: Tier 4. But more than that, earning Tier 3 clearance will give me access to the Curator.
The thought only fuels my speed; I finish calculating the variables and move on to sorting the subjects. I don't even notice the door to the test room open until Mizpah's flinty voice cracks through my focus.
"Renna, I need you to come with me."
My fingers continue to move data around on the screen and I don't even pause to spare my Advanced Training instructor a glance. "I'm in the middle of my last test. It can wait."
Her heavily ringed hand slams down on the screen in front of me and shatters it, destroying all of my progress. I recoil in shock, sliding back in my chair and glaring up at her.
"What the blitz, Mizpah?" I swear as I leap to my feet. "I was almost done!"
Mizpah stares at me without any expression, her eyes as dark and limitless as ever. She is perfectly calm despite the warm rose-colored blood dripping from her hand where a shard of glass embedded itself. I look behind her to see four Enforcer Justices, their hands on the guns in their holsters. My stomach flips. This can't be good. No matter how long I've been in the Civilization, Enforcers always send fear shattering down my spine.
"You need to come with me now, Renna. I'm not going to repeat myself."
I start to protest but then catch my breath. How can I defend myself if I don't even know why I'm in trouble? It must be serious since they interrupted my testing and brought Enforcers. I try to think through everything I've said or done in the past few weeks, but I can't think of anything that deserves this sort of punishment besides a few snarky comments directed at Mizpah. I'm not a physical threat and Mizpah could easily handle me herself, so the Enforcers can only be here to intimidate me into submission.
"Fine," I grumble and step towards her. "I want to know what the shell's going on."
"The Enforcers will escort you to another floor," she says, motioning them forward.
When one of the Enforcers grabs my arm, I try to twist free, but they have my wrists in metal bands behind my back before I can escape. One of them unlatches my Intellect collar, the translucent rubber band with the clearance chip that rests around my neck. When the Enforcer's fingers touch the nape of my neck, a shiver descends my backbone. This definitely isn't good. My breathing grows frantic. My collar represents my identity and value to the Civilization, and without it, I'm worthless. They can do whatever they want to me.
The Enforcers shove me out of the testing room into the hallway, and I twist my head in every direction, trying to find a friendly face or at least someone to explain what's happening. I don't see Jayse anywhere, but Orrick waits outside to take his Tier 3 tests after me. His icy blue eyes catch on mine, and he takes in the situation with cool calculation. Not a single muscle on his face flickers until he nods at me in quiet assurance—he'll try to help me. But what the shell can he do? What can I do?
The comfort of seeing Orrick fades when the Enforcers shove me around a corner and I lose sight of him. The Enforcers deposit me in one of the Civilization Center's elevators; the door slides shut after Mizpah enters behind me. We're alone. I sneak a glance at her, but her face is as stony and void as ever. I bide my time and try to count the floors we pass. The Advanced Training floor is floor three, just above ground level, but the Civilization Center descends at least twenty floors further underground. Some of these floors are so secret that I've never even visited them. Another reason I need a higher clearance level. I'll be lucky if I'm tierless by the time Mizpah's done with me. When a tremor washes through my body, I square my shoulders and stand straighter. I can't give into fear, at least not yet.
As we descend deeper into the depths of the Center, I risk another glance at the head Advanced Training instructor. "Mizpah, are you seriously not going to tell me what's going on? You know I'm one of the best Intellects the Civilization has. What did I do wrong?"
"We just need to ask you a few questions."
"About what?" I ask desperately.
She gives me no answer, her eyes fastened straight ahead. Mizpah, with her sharp black attire and austere demeanor, is the epitome of the precision the Civilization so deeply values. Unlike many of us, she doesn't need dyed hair, bright clothing, or intricate tattoos to set herself apart. Her buzzed head, perfect posture, and threatening black eyes have struck fear into Advanced Trainees for years. What does she want from me? As the elevator slides to a halt and the door opens, however, I wonder if I'm here under someone else's behest. We need to ask you a few questions. We. Who's we? The Advanced Training instructors? The Civilizers? Maybe this goes beyond Mizpah; maybe it even goes beyond me.
Mizpah's cool fingers latch onto my manacles and she shoves me forward, my Intellect collar in her other hand. I search my surroundings and immediately recognize where we are: Floor Subzero 18, the interrogation and holding floor. My eyes fly to Mizpah's, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead. The flicker of fear I felt before has grown into a full flame.
Enforcers line the hallway outside of the rooms, and when they see me, two of them escort me towards one of the doors. Interrogation Room Four. I look around wildly, searching for a friendly face or an explanation. I see a man being shoved into another room and recognize the long blonde hair and tattooed arms. Ryke.
My mind races to try to make sense of everything, to analyze the data like I always do, but I'm locked into a chair in the interrogation room before I can figure it out. The room is black and silent. I take a moment to calm my breathing and gather my wits. You can't get out of this until you figure out why you're here.
Ryke. Ryke is Jayse's best friend, and I'm Jayse's match, his Civilization-approved girlfriend. Jayse.
My thoughts can travel no farther before a fluorescent light shines into my face, blinding me. I wince and turn my head away, squinting.
A voice echoes through the speaker in the room, "State your name and rank."
I know that they're watching me behind the two-way mirror just past the light, but they have disguised the voice so I have no idea who's talking to me. Is it Mizpah? Is it another Infiltrator who specializes in forcing information out of the Civilization's suspects? Is it a Civilizer?
Some of my bravado returns and I scoff, "You know who I am. If you didn't, then why would you bring me here?"
"State your name and rank."
I sigh—the familiarity of the interrogation techniques is somehow comforting. I've observed and even assisted with interrogations in the past as part of Advanced Training, and this is no different. Except for the fact that I'm on the receiving end this time. I think through everything they look for: eye movement, facial expression, voice quality. They don't have me hooked up to a lie detecting machine or a heart rate monitor, so I doubt I'm on trial, but they—whoever they are—will be watching me carefully to determine if I'm being completely truthful or if I'm hiding something. I take a deep breath to calm my breathing. I have nothing to hide.
"Renna. Tier 3 Analyst Intellect."
"Are you matched, Intellect Renna?"
So this is about Jayse. "Yes."
"With whom?"
I withhold my frustration and answer, "Justice Jayse."
"And his rank?"
"Tier 3 Armory Specialist Justice."
"We are investigating Justice Jayse on some highly confidential matters related to the safety of the Civilization, and we are looking for your full cooperation."
My heart starts to beat faster, and I struggle to remain calm. "What are you talking about? Did Jayse do something?"
"That has yet to be determined, which is why we've asked to speak with you. I would like you to begin by describing the strengths and weaknesses of Justice Jayse. As his match, you are most closely familiar with his strengths as a Civilization Justice."
I close my eyes briefly to gather my thoughts. Just tell them the truth. They can't trap you with the truth. You have nothing to hide. My pulse still skitters faster.
"He's great with weapons--using and assembling them. Quick thinking. Confident. He's passionate about the Civilization. It's hard for me to imagine him doing anything to compromise it."
"We aren't looking for your opinions, Intellect Renna. We want facts."
I can't help but roll my eyes. "Fine. He cares deeply about his fellow civilians and about the goals of the Civilization. He's charismatic and people are drawn to him. He's as smart as many Intellects and naturally inquisitive."
"And his flaws?"
I press my lips together and form my words carefully, "He is sometimes rash when he thinks others are in danger or when he's really driven to understand something. He can be a little single-minded when he's focused on a goal."
"Do you trust him?"
Do I trust anyone? Jayse may be my match, but he has to earn my trust just like anyone else, and he hasn't. As I fumble for words, my hesitation speaks for me.
"We will take that as a negative. Since you are both Tier 3 Advanced Trainees, please describe for me a typical day for Justice Jayse to the best of your knowledge."
I can recite his schedule almost as well as mine. "Breakfast at eight. Advanced Training from 8:30-12:00. We're all together, Justices and Intellects, during those times. We have lunch and then we work in the afternoons. Dinner is from six to seven and then the evenings are free."
"Do you and Justice Jayse spend your evenings together?"
I glare towards the harsh light as best I can, hoping they can sense my irritation with their implications. "We hang out sometimes. Sometimes he spends time with Justice Ryke. He exercises at the Training Center after hours almost every night. Sometimes he works late; he really loves weapons design."
"Do you and Justice Jayse discuss his work?"
I pause for a moment, pretending to think about the question while trying to make sense of what they're asking. Whatever it is that Jayse has done—or they think he's done—it's related to his work. I wish I'd shown more interest in his job. Truth be told, there's a reason I'm an Intellect; I know weapons are important to protect us from, well, whatever is supposedly outside of the Civilization, but I've never seen their purpose beyond subjugation and violence, so I usually ignore Jayse's rants about his work.
"I'm an Intellect. Weapons aren't exactly something I like to spend time discussing at length." I scowl, the only way I know to express my rage that won't leave me with a bullet in my brain.
"We will also take that as a negative. Please answer our questions directly, Intellect Renna."
"No. We didn't discuss his work. Honestly, I don't care much about weapons. I know enough to get through Advanced Training, but his work doesn't interest me." My exasperation surfaces as curiosity governs me. "What did he do that has you so concerned? Did he design some secret weapon? Why aren't you asking him about this? I don't know anything."
Their pause confuses me, and that's when I realize—they can't ask him. And if they can't ask him, then he's not here and they don't know where to find him. They don't know where he is. Jayse is gone.