Icons (33 page)

Ro must already be inside.

The closer I get, the louder the hum of the Icon echoes in my mind. It seems stronger than before, buzzing like an angry wasp, like it knows why we’re here.

It becomes more difficult to walk, and my pack feels heavier, but I don’t stop.

I refuse to stop.

“Dol, wait—”

I turn to see Lucas running after me. I wave him away; I don’t have the energy for him anymore. “It’s too late. You can’t keep this from happening.”

He stops next to me, breathless. “Dol. I don’t want you to get hurt. I couldn’t—I don’t want to live with that.”

“Lucas. Please.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“One of us has to do it. I’m not afraid. I’d rather it be me.” I turn and walk away, because as I say the words, I know they’re true. I don’t want anything to happen to Ro or Tima. Or Lucas.

Even now.

“Okay, fine. You’re right,” I hear behind me, his voice cracking. I stop and look at him.

He raises his voice. “I’ve been a coward. Too afraid of losing what I have—and disappointing the Ambassador.”

“Your mother.”

He nods. “Everything I did was because I was afraid of what would happen if things changed.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

He nods again, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, and takes a deep breath. “There’s more. About my
mother
,” he says. “When you left, I went to her private office. I went straight to her safe, the one hidden behind our family portrait.”

“And?”

“Private digi-text. The files my mom had re-Classified, rerouted to her office. Doc cracked the safe. It had something to do with calculating the average time each of the numeric tabs had been pushed. There’s some kind of digital imprint that remains. Apparently each time a touch pad is activated, there’s this—”

“Get on with it, Lucas. I have to keep moving.” I don’t have time to hear it.

“I found another box of drives. It might as well have been labeled ‘everything I never want Lucas to read.’ There were records, more than you want to know. Things I wish I didn’t know, still.”

“Like?”

“Tima was right.”

“About our parents?”

“About everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means there’s more to us than we thought. More than what Tima knows. And more than Fortis is telling you.” His face darkens.

“What are you saying?”

“We’re not just meant to be a weapon. Like Tima says, whoever made us also made a bargain with the House of Lords. And like she didn’t say, I think the Ambassador knows who it is.”

I freeze. The hair on the back of my neck begins to prickle, a thousand tiny needles in my skin.

How is it possible? How is there a kind of humanity this low? So low it doesn’t even deserve to be called human?

“What kind of bargain?”

“The kind that brought the Lords to our planet in the first place.”

Is it true?

Could it possibly be?

I want to cry but I push it back. We can’t stop now. I’m sure of that, more determined than ever.

I look at Lucas. “You’re telling me we might have something to do with the very reason the No Face came?” He nods. “Then we’ll also be the reason the No Face leave.”

He says nothing.

We watch the moonlight reflect on the white stone of the building before me. My head is pounding, but my heart aches at the sight.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Too bad we’re going to have to blow it up.” I tighten my pack.

“We?”

“Ro and me.”

“How?”

I motion to my pack. “I have enough CL-20 in here to rip this side of the mountain in half.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t.”

“Don’t start. I told you. I can, Lucas. I have to.”

“Not without me.” He reaches for my pack and slings it over his own shoulder.

I smile, in spite of everything.

“You’d do that? Stay and help?”

He shrugs. “Not much for me back at the Embassy. Seeing as, according to them, I helped three fugitives escape the Pen.”

We take off toward the white domes.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “You get caught and I’ll come back for your trial and testify. The truth is, you were really no help at all.”

His laugh dies out as the pulsing of the machine noise takes over my brain. I try not to wince as we cross into the thick, buzzing atmosphere of the ruined building. Every cell in my body starts to writhe.

I want to scream.

Hell
, I think.
That’s what this is.

I would almost rather be dead.

“Buttons? What’s he doing here?” Ro holds a thick tube of plastic explosives in each hand. He looks so surprised to see Lucas, I’m afraid he’s going to drop one. Or hurl it at Lucas.

“It’s fine, really. He’s here to help.” I look over at Lucas. “Right?”

Lucas motions to Ro’s ears, where the blood is spattering
down to his shoulders. “Let’s just get this done before our heads explode.”

Ro considers him for a long moment, then hands him Tima’s map.

One by one we place the thick cylinders of explosives.

One bound to each of the snaking, cylindrical black tendrils that work their way down into the rock and soil of the cliff beneath the building.

We attach most of them to the body of the Icon itself, jammed into the pressure points that Tima has so carefully mapped out. Like some kind of art project, everything is placed just so.

We shove all the remaining cylinders at the base of it, just to be sure.

One detonator, strapped to that.

Ro lays it gingerly in place, a carefully constructed contraption, spring-loaded and running on a mechanical timer—no electricity. With a sense of pride, Ro explains the process as he adjusts the trigger. “Fortis is a genius. Because Icons interfere with chemical reactions, he designed the detonation to work incredibly fast, before the Icon’s field can interfere. Once the detonator is tripped, the chain reaction will take over, and everything will go off before the Icon can shut it down. It won’t know what hit it.”

All we have to do is set the timer and get out.

The three of us stand there, for just a moment. It feels
like madness—standing this close to an Icon, with the power to destroy it. I hold only a stopwatch in my hand. A coiled spring, like the detonator. Very simple. The technology is more than a hundred years old and still reliable.

“Ready?” says Ro.

“Ready,” I repeat.

Lucas nods and says nothing.

“Detonation will be in one hundred twenty seconds, on my mark.” Ro’s voice—steady and sure—ripples over everything we do and say.

“Mark.” Ro flips a switch and stands up, satisfied.

I click the stopwatch. The numbers spin past me, sprinting down the screen.

One press of a button, and everything has changed.

We run. I don’t look back as I tumble through the hall and down the concrete steps, or as I race past the brass plates of the planets in our solar system embedded in the walkway, or as I cross the grass near the obelisk that marks the way to the deserted parking lot.

I keep running until I am halfway down the shortcut, the back side of the hill, toward the place where Tima promised she would meet us, to take us to a Rebellion safe house.

No Freeley. No Embassy Chopper. Not tonight.

Lucas is right behind me, and we both turn to look back. “One minute,” I say, almost to myself. “This whole place is about to be a cloud of ash.”

I turn to Lucas and wipe the blood dripping from his nose with my hand. Then I push a strand of hair out of his eyes.

Ro comes tearing after us, breathless.

“What are you doing? Come on!” He grabs me by the hand and pulls as hard as he can. I go flying. He doesn’t even notice Lucas. He doesn’t care if Lucas comes or not.

Ro keeps running, pulling me after him. He’s not stopping for anyone, not now.

We sprint down the hill, outside the fence, and away from the Icon. We run well clear of the blast zone, and duck behind a big rock.

I look at the stopwatch.

10

 

5

 

1

All we get is silence.

There is no smoke and ash, where there should be smoke and ash.

“Something’s wrong. The first blasts should have come by now. I staggered the timing. One supporting leg at a time.” Ro can barely say the words.

We’re all panting.

“Maybe you hit the wrong time. Maybe the detonator misfired. Maybe there’s a loose connection.” I try not to imagine the worst, that the Lords discovered what we were doing and found a way to stop it. “It could still go off any second. And the Embassy will be here soon. We have to go. We can always try again.”

“No,” Lucas says. “We’ve gone too far, risked too much, to leave without making sure this is going to work.”

Ro tries his earpiece. “I got nothing.”

I tap mine, but I can’t get reception.

Lucas raises his wrist, shouting into his cuff. “Doc, Fortis, what’s going on?”

We hear static, then Fortis’s voice erupts into the air. “Well, my darlings, I think the better question is what’s not going on, and why.”

More static.

Fortis speaks up again. “Hux, you ran the numbers over and over, what’s wrong?”

I hear a loud buzzing sound—then Doc’s voice. “It’s quite possible the assumptions underlying my calculations were off. I’ve tested the Icon sample—and done extensive measurement of the Icon’s effect—but there is always a small margin of error.”

There is only silence on the line.

Silence and static.

I grab Lucas’s wrist. “Doc? Fortis?” I finally hear Fortis.

“Yes, Dol. I’m not going to lie. This is a bit of bad news.”

“What are you saying?” I can barely think. “There must be something we can do.”

I hear Fortis hesitate, through the static. “It’s up to you. I can’t make you do it. The only way it will blow is—”

“One of us will have to blow it.” Ro says the words.

“That’s it. Manual.”

My heart sinks. Lucas drops his head into his hands. Ro stands.

“I’ll do it. It’s my responsibility.”

No. Not Ro. Not my oldest friend. I can’t bear to imagine life without him, even if the Icon is destroyed.

“Fortis, it’s not worth it. We need to figure out something else.” I tap my earpiece, over and over. “Tima, you there? Doc?”

No one answers.

Ro takes my hand. “Dol, don’t. You know there’s not another way. It has to be one of us. It’s not going to be you, and I’m not going to let Buttons here get all the glory.”

“Come on, Ro.” Lucas is ashen.

Ro won’t even look at him. “Shove off. This is my fire. I need to light it.”

I yank away my hand. “Ro, listen to me.”

Then I stop, because I hear something.

“Is that—”

Ro listens. “Barking?”

“Here?” I think of the dead Sympa, and the blood coming out of our own ears. Nothing could survive where we have been. We barely did.

But it’s true. The sound is coming from one of our packs. Ro bends down and opens the nearest one—and Brutus sticks his head out and licks Ro on the mouth. “What is Lucas doing with the dog?”

“How is that dog even alive?”
It’s a miracle
, I think. Curled in the pack on Lucas’s back, that small, mangy dog survived the Icon.

“Brutus!” Tima appears on the hill behind us. She’s dragging a handful of face masks, and what looks like a pack of medical supplies. I recognize the cross on the gear.

Tima pulls Brutus all the way out of the bag, and he licks her face with a howl. “Good boy. How did Lucas get you here?”

She turns to me. “What’s going on? Why is there no explosion? Where’s Lucas?”

Ro and I look at each other in shock.

Because Lucas is gone.

Tima picks up in a heartbeat what is happening. “No. Absolutely not. He can’t do it. I won’t let him.”

Before I can say anything, she shoves Brutus into my arms and takes off running, faster than I knew she could. She disappears up the hillside into the dark, scrambling toward the Observatory.

Brutus howls.

“Wait!” Ro shouts and climbs after her.

“Ro, stop.” I pull his arm toward me. I can’t let him go. “Please, Ro, it’s too late. We’ll never stop her, and Lucas is too far ahead.”

He stands, fists clenched, jaw tight. “This isn’t happening.”

I pull him down, no longer able to stand. The dog clings to my chest, whimpering.

“It is. And I am not going to let you throw your life away. Not yet, anyway.”

He slumps next to me, defeated. I put my arms around him and utterly and completely lose it.

I can’t take it anymore. I no longer have the will to protect myself from the pain of my sadness, and it all comes crashing in.

My parents, the hundreds of millions of people who have died, the Padre, Ramona, and now Lucas and Tima. I feel the power of the sadness grow, bigger than myself; I can’t contain it.

I weep.

I don’t stop when I hear the first explosion. Or the next. Or the next.

I don’t stop when the debris rains down around us, and I first smell the smoke.