Chapter 8 #2
He strides in the opposite direction while I race to keep up.
“This is the sparring gym.”
The next door opens into a cavernous gymnasium full of black mats and punching bags. I catch sight of Evlynne across the room, her fists flying as she pounds into a guy twice her size.
“Equipment and weight rooms,” he says, nodding toward a wide doorway.
Beside the gym is an archery range. I give it a perfunctory glance, since archery has never piqued my interest. Excitement makes an appearance, however, when we reach the indoor shooting range.
Gray notices the way my eyes light up. “You and your guns.”
I grin at him.
“I haven’t forgotten about your Little Miss Incompetent act in Silver Block, by the way,” he grumbles. “What’s the right grip? What’s wrong with my stance?” He sighs. “Remember that day I instructed you? You must’ve had a good laugh about it afterward.”
“Sort of. But it was very sweet of you to try to help me,” I say, patting his arm.
“Well, now you can repay the favor. I’m still waiting on approval, but I’m trying to arrange for your work assignment to be here at the range.”
He approaches one of the shooting stations, grabbing a handgun from the rack.
He checks the clip before shoving it back in, then raises the weapon with one hand, his stance lazy.
We’re not wearing ear protection or goggles, but he doesn’t seem to care.
He fires off a shot and hits the target in the chest. Dead center.
“Nice,” I say.
He winks at me, then holds out the gun, butt-first.
Grinning, I step up and mimic his pose. The same laid-back stance, same one-handed grip. My bullet connects dead center, too.
Between the eyes.
“Show-off,” he accuses.
I laugh and set the gun back on the rack.
“We have a few new recruits at the Dagger that I’d love for you to work with,” he says on our way out of the range.
“How does that work, anyway? Recruitment, I mean. Do you get a lot of new recruits?”
“Some. We have eyes and ears all over the wards, so it always gets back to us if someone wants to work for the Uprising. That’s how you got on our radar. We received word from Tana Archer saying she and her friend wanted to help.”
I glare at him. “Yeah, and all you did was send us on minor supply runs.”
“Hey, not me. I wasn’t on the Authority yet—I only joined two years ago. You can blame Julian Ash. That man did everything in his power to keep you away from us.”
Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.
“But there are parents who are eager for their kids to join the Uprising. Age of entry is sixteen, so we get a lot of teens sent to the Dagger or Bramble Base for training. Other times, we might hear about someone in the wards with a skill we can utilize, someone with a knack for tech, maybe a pilot, an explosives expert, whatever. It’s not always a Mod, either.
If we hear of someone we’d like to recruit, we reach out via the network to see if they’re interested. ”
“There’s really no Primes at the Dagger?”
“Nope. We’ve got some living in the valley, mostly parents who didn’t want to be separated from their kids, but the Dagger is exclusively a Mod base. We’re not against working with Prime operatives in the wards, but not here. This base is too important to fall.”
“That’s why you won’t let Xavier out of the cells.”
“He’s a massive security risk. If he were to get out—”
“How would he even get out?” I counter. “He isn’t Modified, so he can’t reach out to anyone telepathically.
He’s essentially cut off from the rest of the world here.
And suppose he manages to break out of the cells, then what?
He shoots his way off the mountain? And if he manages that, now he has to find his way back to the Blacklands, make it through alive, and then scramble to hide in the wards because there’s a red threat on his head. Trust me, he doesn’t want to escape.”
Gray shrugs. “Then he can start cooperating during interrogations. Until then, he remains a prisoner.”
“Speaking of prisoners…” I hesitate for a second. “Why aren’t we trying to rescue the Mods in the labor camps?”
“Because it’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“I linked with Tana last night,” I admit. “My best friend from Z. They marked her, Gray.”
His face goes grim. “They mark them all.”
“So why are we letting that happen?” His lack of righteous outrage irritates me.
“I got on that helicopter with you because you said we were going to war. That we were going to fight. And instead, all you guys are doing is training inside a mountain and going dark in the wards. How is that fighting?”
“I’m sorry this war isn’t moving fast enough for you, cowgirl,” he says dryly.
Noting my frustration, he softens his tone.
“We’re constantly making plans. I know right now everything feels like it’s standing still, but I promise you, once the shit gets going, you’ll be longing for these quiet days. ”
“Maybe,” I say, unconvinced. The lack of action is excruciating for me.
The tour continues. He shows me the armory, security booths, and communications wing.
Our last stop is tech, and this time we don’t lurk in the doorway.
We enter an enormous room full of equipment.
Tablets, radios, earpieces, and an array of other devices.
A long white table spans the center of the room, littered with random gadgets.
My eyes snag on one device. It’s black, narrow, and cylindrical.
I immediately know what it is.
A signal jammer.
It’s almost identical to the jammers that the Command uses, and other than my rifle, I’d consider it one of the most useful tools in an arsenal. It stops cameras from recording, scrambles signals, cripples critical systems, shuts down entire networks depending on its strength…
In other words, it makes you invisible.
Venturing deeper into the room, I approach a glass case that contains various earpieces. “So how does it work? What if I require a piece of tech?”
“Everything is logged in and out, but you won’t have access to everything in here. Clearance depends on several factors. Authority members have full clearance, mission leads have high clearance. Lower-level personnel can usually only sign out comms and redacted tablets, unless you request access.”
Only comms?
Nah. I don’t think so.
“What kind of earpiece is this?” I ask, gesturing to the case. “Can I see it?”
“Sure.” He walks over to unlock the cabinet.
The moment his back turns, I sidle up to the edge of the table and cover the jammer with my palm, the matte surface cool against my skin. In one fluid motion I slip it into my back pocket, and when Gray turns, I shift my feet like I’m just casually adjusting my stance.
He holds out the earpiece for me to examine. “This is similar to the one Silver Block soldiers use, but it works via sat signal.”
“For an earpiece?” I say in surprise.
“Yep. It’s impossible to pick up the signal or be intercepted. There’re only a handful of these in existence—we save them for high-risk missions. We’re careful with our satellites.”
“Wow. That’s cool.”
He arches a brow at me.
“What?” I keep my expression neutral.
“I’m not a Command recruit. You can’t pull that shit on me.”
“What shit?”
“Stealing tech.”
Fuck.
Gray flashes me a grin. “You know, you could’ve just asked me for it.”
“Really,” I challenge. “You’d let me take a jammer out of this room?”
“Depends on what you want it for…”
I hesitate. Then I opt for honesty, because I’ve got nothing to lose and it might score some points with him.
“I want to be able to talk to Xavier freely.”
His jaw tightens slightly. “About the captain?”
I nod sheepishly.
He goes quiet, several seconds ticking by. Then he surprises me by saying, “Keep it.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s fine. I’ll sign it out under my ID.” There’s a buzzing noise, and he reaches into his pocket for his comm, checking the screen. “Kallister says it’s time for your training.”