Nora glanced up at Dominique. “I have a very bad feeling about these two, but you’d know better than I.”
We both have military training. I’m conversant in all manner of explosives, and Daniel was a Navy SEAL. We’re ready and eager to strike at the enemy.
Dominique pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.
“What should I reply?” Nora asked.
Dominique just stood there, her mind not working.
“Dominique? What should I reply? Something that’ll tell us for sure.”
“We can’t know for sure, but—” She cursed under her breath. “Give them an opportunity to brag, or try to piss them off.”
Nora typed. You don’t sound intelligent enough to be Special Forces and Navy SEAL. Are you sure I’m not talking to two kids playing G.I. Joe?
There was an inordinately long pause, during which no one in the room said a word, or even breathed heavily. Finally, a reply came.
My IQ is 147. Daniel’s is 139. If you suspect there’s a child in this conversation, check the mirror.
“Shit,” Dominique nearly shouted. “Oh, holy Christ.”
“You’re sure?” the president asked.
“They’re defenders. The awkward phrasing, the arrogance.” She gestured at the avatars. “The IQs he mentioned are right in the defender range.” She stared at President Wood, the implications sinking in. The defenders could locate them.
“Everyone be ready to leave in one hour,” Wood said. “Fuel the plane. Concentrate on packing survival gear—we’ll have to land and ditch the plane before we reach defender territory.”
Zipping her coat as she ran, Dominique headed for her quarters to get packed.
72
Lila Easterlin
October 18, 2047. Washington, D.C.
It took forty minutes to reach the Capitol Shopping Center’s parking lot, and another half hour to find a parking space. Most of that time Lila relived Danika’s execution, over and over. Only it hadn’t been an execution: It had been an exhibition on torture, a primer on all the things defenders would do to you if you defied them. Why was it that the mind insisted on lingering on exactly the things you most wanted to forget?
Lila tried to drag her thoughts back to the present, to the vehicles parked everywhere—in fire lanes, on the grass medians, along the road leading to the shopping center. No one was sure if the defenders had a reliable way to keep track of who was complying with their designated shopping day and who wasn’t, but no one wanted to risk finding out.
“Not Target,” Kai said.
Lila paused. She’d automatically headed toward Target, forgetting that it held bad associations for Kai. She scanned the big shopping center. There was a Hobby Town, but neither of them had a hobby. The grocery store didn’t count (food was a staple, so buying it didn’t stimulate the economy). She pointed their cart toward Office Depot.
“I wonder if the defenders understand that a lot of these people can’t afford to buy random shit. A rash of bankruptcies isn’t going to stimulate the economy.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say that too loud.”
As soon as they got inside, they split up and began filling their cart with things they could actually use—preferably bulky items that made the cart appear full.
Lila grabbed a printer and tossed it in the cart. She was heading toward the printer ink aisle, but it was slow going. The store was packed.
Everyone she passed looked at her intently for a moment, then quickly looked away. Fortunately her stitched lip, bandaged cheek, swollen left eye, and bruised forehead would heal. It was probably 50 percent better already.
When they weren’t gaping at her, Lila watched other people’s faces. She was morbidly fascinated by the shift in the default human expression since the defender occupation began. People rarely smiled, and rarely looked angry or even annoyed. They tried to keep their faces flat, emotionless, but undertones of fear and something like sadness, or self-pity, bled through. Back in the days of the Luyten War everyone looked openly afraid, but something about this situation caused people to try to tamp their emotions.
Kai found her in the printer ink aisle, limped over, and dropped four reams of paper in the cart. “You can never have too much paper.”
A defender came around the corner, his arms full of boxes.
“Shit,” Lila whispered.
“Here. People aren’t buying enough of these.” The defender dropped three identical boxes into their cart. According to the box, they were roll sorters. Lila had no idea what they were, but she now owned three.
“That should be enough,” Kai said. “Let’s get to the checkout line before he comes back with more.”
Another defender was patrolling the checkout line. Lila watched as he grabbed some big-ticket electronics at random from a pile and added them to an old woman’s cart. Evidently her cart wasn’t full enough. Lila was about to share a coded snide comment with Kai when a voice trumpeted in her head.
I have information for you.
Lila’s purse slipped from her fingers. She gripped the shopping cart with both hands to stay on her feet.
“You okay? What’s the matter?” Kai asked.
Why would a Luyten speak to her? As far as she knew, no Luyten had communicated with a human being since the invasion of Australia.
There are bathrooms in the back of the store. Beyond them is a fire exit. I’ve disabled the fire alarm.
“I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” She forced a smile, left the line, and headed toward the back of the store.
The exit was at the end of an L-shaped hallway. When she got outside Lila eased the door closed, maintaining her composure despite the presence of the scarlet-colored Luyten, waiting between two Dumpsters. It was in the prone position, three appendages on the floor, three folded.
As she stepped toward it, Lila glanced around to make sure no one was around.
There are no humans nearby, or planning to come back here anytime soon. That much I can tell you.
“I’m not particularly worried about humans. What do you want? I need to get back inside before I’m missed.”
I’ll try to be brief, but it’s important I be clear. The defenders were more rattled by the attacks on their birthing facilities than you know. They’ve decided that, as things stand now, they’re far too outnumbered by humans to maintain control.
“I know. I got their marching orders. They’ve got me spitting out defenders as fast as the facility can create them.” The strangeness of the situation hit Lila anew. A Luyten was talking to her, probably the one that killed her father.
Their plan is to reduce the human population as well.
The Luyten’s words silenced all of her internal chatter. “They’re going to cull us to a manageable number?”
Yes.
“What’s a manageable number?”
Between a quarter and a half billion.
What was the current world population? Lila had no idea.
Two-point-three billion.
“You’re telling me they’re planning to kill off more than three-quarters of the human race?”
Yes. The Luyten sounded almost sad. She wondered if it was telling the truth.
The Luyten stood; it towered over her. Suddenly she wished she’d brought Kai with her. It could kill her in an instant.