The real Halima had actually gotten up early that morning, using her off day to take a drive down the coast to explore California. Isabela had watched her go. That’s why she had decided to borrow Halima’s face in the first place. She wouldn’t miss it.
“This here is the Inhibitor 3.0,” Archibald said. He held up what looked to Isabela like a simple silver button, albeit with a needlelike prong poking out of one side. “Obviously, this is meant for more close-quarters deployment than the previous shock-collar version. Once implanted in a Garde’s temple, the Inhibitor emits a signal that disrupts their Legacies. Sydal Corp is working on a delivery system to turn these into smart projectiles, but apparently that’s not ready yet.”
Isabela’s ears perked up at the mention of Sydal Corp. Her friends talked about them, down in their secret lair. They were the weapons manufacturers who supplied both Earth Garde and the Foundation with anti-Garde technology. Their CEO, Wade Sydal, with his baby face and bad goatee, even made an appearance on their bulletin board.
Did they have incriminating evidence against Sydal? Proof of his double-dealing? Isabela couldn’t remember. She didn’t pay much attention in those meetings. They felt like extra homework. She much preferred the exciting stuff.
Like sneaking into the barracks to get Archibald’s data.
“Truth be told, I’d rather us not have to use these things,” the colonel said as he tossed the new Inhibitor onto the table in front of him. “Our job here is to make sure nobody harms these kids. Sometimes, that means making sure they don’t hurt themselves or each other. If we can’t de-escalate a situation without shocking their brains, then we’ve failed at our mission.”
Isabela reconsidered Archibald. When they did the Wargames event against the Peacekeepers, he had seemed proud of the way his soldiers dismantled the young Garde—at least until Isabela and her friends tricked their way to a victory. Isabela still savored the memory of Archibald’s surprised face when she’d held a tranquilizer gun under his chin. Listening to Archibald now, she wondered if he really did have it out for the Garde, or if that whole training scenario was just his way of teaching the students—and their cocky professor—a hard lesson.
“We were supposed to be getting a new student to the Academy tomorrow.” Archibald continued his briefing. “But the Italians are keeping her, on account of the incident in the Philippines. If any press contact you about Italy’s participation in Earth Garde, you have no comment.”
Isabela zoned out. Was Archibald just an uptight military goon or did he harbor the kind of anti-Garde sentiment that would make him a perfect mole? Isabela would find out soon enough.
“We’ve got the holidays coming up,” Archibald said, oblivious to Isabela’s scrutiny. “The Academy’s headshrinker wants us to be aware that this can be a tough time of year for young people, especially considering most of them won’t be allowed to leave campus for home visits. Let’s be aware of students acting out and potentially trying to sneak off campus. We don’t want a repeat of our recent lapse.”
Isabela allowed herself a small smile. As if they could keep her here if she really wanted to escape.
Archibald opened up a folder on the table in front of him. “As for those home visits, if I call your name, you’ve been assigned to one of those detachments.”
That was enough spying for Isabela. With a telepathic nudge, she pushed Archibald’s folder off the table. With an annoyed grunt, the colonel bent to pick up the papers, and Isabela ducked out the door.
With as many times as she’d snuck off campus, Isabela knew the layout of the Peacekeepers’ base well. The mess hall, the barracks, the armory, the fence that cordoned off the Academy, the gatehouse that led to the road and the outside world, and the private trailer where Archibald stayed.
Pff. If Isabela was a big-shot army guy, she would’ve demanded a much nicer house.
As everyone was in the briefing, no one noticed Halima Ouma approach Archibald’s trailer. Isabela popped the flimsy lock with her telekinesis and slipped inside.
The colonel’s abode was as dull as Isabela expected. His bed was made with such tight precision that Isabela imagined she could hear the mattress squeaking in anguish from the choking hospital corners. There were four books stacked on the nightstand, all of them biographies of US presidents. The man’s vitamins were lined up in a row ordered by size next to the trailer’s small sink. The entire room smelled like piney aftershave. Archibald’s laptop sat on the dust-free linoleum-topped table next to a tin of unsalted peanuts.
Isabela powered up the laptop—background a waving American flag, of course—and inserted into the port the USB drive Lexa had given her. Immediately, some computer stuff started to happen—numbers and progress bars, that kind of crap. Lexa had told Isabela that all she needed to do was plug the drive in for a few minutes and let it do its work.
In the meantime, Isabela ruffled Archibald’s bedcovers. Because why not?
The portable drive emitted a sharp beep when it finished mirroring Archibald’s hard drive. Isabela slipped it back in her pocket, paused, went on the internet, found an image of some hot guys playing volleyball in very small eighties bathing suits, and changed Archibald’s desktop wallpaper.
“Mission accomplished,” she said to herself.
Isabela popped out of Archibald’s trailer and immediately bumped into a soldier rushing towards the mess hall. Both of them nearly fell over from the collision. Isabela cringed. She should’ve peeked out of the trailer first. Was this what Professor Nine meant when he called her impetuous?
“Ouch, Halima, damn,” the soldier said, rubbing his face where it had clipped Isabela’s shoulder. He was young, American, his uniform sloppy. The name on his chest read Pvt. Rhodes. “You late for the briefing, too? My asshole bunkmates turned off my alarm.”
Isabela formed Halima’s lips into a sheepish smile. “Yes,” she said. “I overslept, too.”
“Well, let’s . . .” Rhodes trailed off. He squinted at Isabela, realizing where she’d been coming out of. “Wait. What were you doing in the XO’s . . . ?”
Isabela grabbed Rhodes’s upper arm and squeezed. “Please, don’t say anything,” she said. “It was just a fling and I don’t want to get Ray in trouble.”
Rhodes looked supremely uncomfortable, like he regretted ever bumping into Halima. Isabela smiled inwardly. Good thing that she’d picked a woman to impersonate. It wouldn’t have been so easy to explain away her carelessness if she’d been posing as a male soldier sneaking out of the colonel’s trailer.
“Hi, guys!”
The awkward silence between Halima and Rhodes was broken by Caleb’s chipper greeting. Not Caleb, Isabela could tell immediately, but one of his duplicates. The clone stood there with its unblinking stare, grinning stupidly at the two soldiers.
“I’m Caleb’s sense of adventure and spontaneity,” the duplicate declared. “Do you guys want to shoot some guns or something?”
Rhodes took a cautious step back from the clone. Before he or Isabela could say anything, the real Caleb appeared on the other side of the fence, waving his arms.
“Hey, sorry!” Caleb called. “I lost control of that one.”