Third Law of Attrition: Laws of Attrition, #3

By Bronwyn Leroux

Chiara has given up trying to work out why Cygnus wants the cold-fusion device. He can't have her inventions, or her, or her family.

 

Pushed to the edge by Cygnus's increasingly dangerous behavior, constant surveillance, and the terrifying reality of the world she lives in, Chiara realizes she only has one choice: escape.

 

First, though, she must rescue her family. But how? Finding them is an almost impossible challenge. And there's still the mystery of her missing brother hanging over her head.

 

Another problem? The world outside the dome is a toxic wasteland. Chiara must use every ounce of her scientific prowess to invent solutions to keep herself and her family alive.

 

Finally, there's Deran. Chiara relies on him more than ever as she works toward her goal. Will he go with her when she flees? Can he forgive Chiara for the secrets she's still keeping? Every day is a dangerous game where any tiny misstep will bring disaster.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Digits
• Release date: Aug 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781953107183

Book preview

1

Dazed, I leave Cygnus’s office. My thoughts are spiders in a bucket, desperate to escape, skittering around the edges as they find no purchase, chaotic. Little wonder after the day I’ve had. I’m still struggling to assimilate the barbaric surgery Deran and I witnessed earlier, and now this.

Never in a million years could I have guessed the meeting with the all-powerful director of the Cirrian Conglomerate would end this way. Cygnus’s behavior, the things he said, still stun me.

Abruptly aware I’m not shielding my thoughts in any way, shape or form, I scan Hag Lady’s domain. Her desk dominates the spacious area, an unmistakable barricade between Cygnus’s inner sanctum and the outside world.

Thankfully, the sumptuous room is free of mindhunters, no sign remaining of the two who bullied me up here. I rally my thoughts, trying to corral them. If I’m to stay safe, I must control what I’m thinking—and where.

Halfway back to the R&D floor in the lone, swanky elevator serving Cygnus, I realize I never said a word to her. A smile teases my lips imagining Hag Lady’s outrage. Not only was she totally ignored when I was lugged past her on the way in, but then I didn’t deign to acknowledge her on my way out either.

The smile fades. I shouldn’t make her an enemy. She has the director’s ear and can make my life far more difficult. Besides, she’s the messenger for updates about my family. Wouldn’t it be better for her to believe I hold her in high esteem so she’s more inclined to let me know things sooner rather than at the last minute?

The elevator pings, announcing we’ve arrived. Still pondering this, I rush out and barrel right into Deran. Bouncing backward off his muscular chest, I stumble, grateful when he grabs my arm and steadies me.

Thanks. His gray eyes are dull as unyielding, unreadable slate. For the first time, I realize the cool detachment there must be an emotional shield he instinctively erects every time he comes to my office and finds me missing, whisked off by deadly mindhunters.

Desperate to touch him, reassure him, I remember the ever-present cameras just in time. I settle for giving the hand still on my arm a quick squeeze and speak in a voice barely audible. I’m okay.

The slate lightens marginally, but he’s shaken. Understandable, considering what we did less than an hour ago and the ramifications if we were caught. I desperately need to see the light back in those incredible eyes. What, did you break the machine again?

My attempt at humor falls flat. In my defense, it’s the best I can come up with in the moment. The machine, the cold-fusion energy source Cygnus commanded I invent, meant to produce limitless energy using abundant, cheap fuels as triggers without creating radioactive waste, should have been impossible. But Cygnus believed I was smart enough to create it, and against all odds, I succeeded. Admittedly, without Deran’s help, I might have failed. Not for the first time, I’m grateful Deran was the lead mechanic assigned to head the team working with me on this project. An initially fraught alliance has become a treasured relationship.

And there are more important things to focus on!

Are you done with upper level security? Deran’s terse tone and use of the generally accepted term for mindhunters remind me to act normally. I’m not supposed to know who the monsters are or what they can do.

I force a smile, certain the twisted attempt makes me look like a gargoyle. Yes, thanks. Director Cygnus wanted a brief meeting.

While everyone else is required to call him Director McQueen, as my benefactor, he gave me special dispensation to call him Director Cygnus. Speaking that now-hated term makes me choke, so I move onto something more palatable. Is there a reason you were looking for me?

The part we were waiting for has arrived. I need you to collect it with me so you can verify it isn't faulty before we accept delivery.

My mind scrambles, trying to put his words into context. When I do, my eyes widen. We can resume reassembling the ostensibly no-longer-functional machine, but, more importantly, he’s giving me an escape route. An opportunity to discuss everything we saw this morning and what’s happened since in a location away from the constant surveillance.

Aware my words should match my surprise, I inject enthusiasm into my voice. It has? So soon? What are we waiting for? Let’s go!

Outside, he hurriedly, but expertly, guides me into the forest bordering the expansive gardens surrounding CC HQ, making it resemble a natural diversion when it’s anything but. Barely a few feet in, he snatches his modified music player from an overall pocket and masks our conversation.

His eyes, when he turns them on me, are unrelenting slate again. What happened?

Mindhunters were waiting for me in the lab when we got back. They hauled me upstairs for a meeting with Cygnus. My pause is brief, but enough for Deran to know something went down, because he tenses. Deran, I’ve never seen Cygnus so frazzled! He asked me to marry him!

With hindsight, I should’ve shared that fact with more tact. On the bright side, Deran’s eyes flash silver. Ha! Life there at last!

"He did what?"

Deran’s voice is low, but I’ve seldom heard a sound so menacing. I place a placating hand on his muscular forearm. Sorry, I should’ve led up to my news. Wait, let me explain what happened. One murderous glance and I gulp. I didn’t say yes, nor do I plan to.

He’s hardly likely to give you a choice, is he?

The cold gleam of newly pressed steel lights his eyes now. I need to salvage what I can of the conversation before it devolves further. Thankful for the cover the trees provide from intrusive overhead drones, I slide my arms around his neck, pulling him close. He may think he’ll get his way, but—and this is a big but—even if I’m forced to agree (and I’ll only do that to buy us time), I’ll never follow through with it.

Stormy eyes watch me for a full minute before Deran sighs. Chiara, I hope you know what you’re doing.

Me too. I tip my head back and pull his head down to kiss him, one of the rare delights left to me in this life. A world I once thought was almost heaven a few short months ago is now a living hell. Thankfully, I don’t have to shut the truths that enlightened me out—Deran’s kiss does that more effectively than anything else could.

By the time he releases me, I’m breathless. I find my feet again and gather the frantic thoughts which assaulted me after leaving my meeting with Cygnus. How much time do we have? There’s so much I need to tell you!

Apparently. Deran’s tone is dry, but his raised eyebrows and reluctant smile reassure me things are fine between us. You’d better make it quick. I’m sure they’re wondering why we ducked into the forest. We don’t want them sending mindhunters to investigate.

I focus on the essential elements. First, we need to talk about the mindhunter ‘surgery’ we saw earlier, but not now. Second, my meeting with Cygnus leads me to believe someone is gunning for his job.

A long, low whistle. What gave you that idea?

The extreme time pressure he’s putting me under to finish this project. He’s never done that before. I think he needs this invention to stop others from usurping him. When Deran doesn’t respond, I press for the answer I want. You’ve heard nothing about this?

Deran’s glance is sharp. Why would I?

I shrug. Maybe because you have access to a market selling food untainted by their coercion serum, or because you know David? My answer is more question than statement, reassuring Deran I’m making no accusations.

His smile is tight. Just because I know those people doesn’t mean they tell me things. I’d have to ask, but…

He leaves the sentence unfinished. I’m equally aware asking those kinds of questions can get you killed. Ours is not a world where we can trust people. Even Deran’s faith took a while to earn and for me to reciprocate. Which reminds me. I wheedled a meeting with my mom out of him.

A half-grin as Deran’s eyebrows rise again. How did you manage that? Briefly, I explain the way I manipulated Cygnus into conceding a girl needs her mother at a time like this. Smile more genuine, he shakes his head. Like I’ve said before, no messing with you when you’re on a mission!

Cygnus was skating on the thin edge of reason, which probably helped.

You mentioned that. Care to explain further?

His utter lack of grooming—you know how narcissistic Cygnus is, how he hates appearing as anything less than perfect! But his hair was mussed and his shirt rumpled. Also, he’d been drinking.

He must’ve been, to propose marriage. Although Deran mutters the words, I hear them.

Agreed. His thinking was clearly compromised. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have seen the request for what it is: an alliance. A way to secure his throne, because without me, he’s nothing.

Finally, silver streaks Deran's eyes as amusement curves his lips up into that insanely divine smile. Okay, I get it. You’re not into him.

You think? He’s old enough to be my father! My offhand comment brings that familiar ache.

Deran’s thumb nudges my chin. Where did you go?

I sigh. I was thinking about my father. His disappearance all those years ago precipitated my abduction here, the subsequent separation from my remaining family, and my exile in that hideous academy for the sole purpose of turning me into Cygnus’s pet genius so he could demand inventions. I don't even know if my father’s alive anymore. Bitterness coats the words, and what Cygnus did to me cuts no less keenly than when it happened.

When Deran tucks me against his chest, arms enfolding me, a hand rubbing my back, I accept the solace. Then another anomalous fact bounces up from the bucket. Deran, he apologized!

Deran stops rubbing, his eyes widening. For what?

The way his goons dragged me up there. He said he’d ‘allowed others to corrupt his judgement’ because ‘they’ said I did it. He told ‘them’ I wasn’t responsible. When I asked if I’d done something wrong, he started saying, ‘I wasn't capable of…’ but he never finished!

Who do you think ‘they’ are?

If I knew what I’d supposedly done, I might have an answer. Do you have any ideas?

Deran shakes his head. Nope, not one. He hugs me for a last time before releasing me. We’d better get going. Let’s plan on dinner at my place tonight to discuss things further.

I nod, and Deran switches his gadget off. Attempting to make up for lost time, we dash through the trees. We burst free a few yards from the trundle station, then sprint to catch the arriving train before it departs.

Dumping ourselves into chairs as the trundle shoots off again, we play the game we’ve played so often before for the cameras. We’re simply two work colleagues doing everything we can to get the director’s latest project up and running.

Deran opens. Glad we took that shortcut.

Yes, now we just have to hope the part they sent is the one we want, and it’s in working condition.

We lapse into silence, catching our breaths. No question, we’re playing a dangerous game. Deran was right. I’d better know what I’m doing.

2

After collecting the required part (no need to check anything!), we hurry back to CC HQ. This time, I don’t leave Deran’s side. We head for the workshop together, hoping to ward off another snatch by mindhunters. As if! But a girl can dream, can’t she?

Thankfully, we reach the workshop without incident. The huge, open space, parallel to the back edge of the lab, was assigned to me when Cygnus made me head of the R&D labs. He took great pride in gifting it as a place to build my inventions. Although they were never mine, were they? He assigned the projects, promising a visit with my family as a reward when I succeeded. Failure was never an option.

Shoving the aggravating thoughts aside, I return my attention to today’s meeting. Other than Cygnus’s marriage proposal, the confrontation served me well, confirming my recent choices: sabotage the machine, corrupt any recorded data detailing how we built it (because duh! Data espionage helped CC turn our world into their empire), free my remaining family from Cygnus’s clutches, and track down my missing brother, Xanin, and our father.

I pause on that last thought. No, that’s wrong. While coercing Cygnus into letting my family live with me instead of wherever he’s stashed them may have been my plan initially, that’s changed. Courtesy of Siren-A (a.k.a. Ava), the girl from the resistance I met on my trip to the zone with Deran, I can learn where Cygnus is sequestering my family.

Subconsciously, when I asked her to find them, I must have known letting them live with me wouldn't solve anything. Cygnus will never allow me to take away his leverage. We'll only ever be safe if we flee the dome.

But will Deran come with when we run for it?

Earth to Chiara.

Deran’s been speaking for the past few seconds, but I’ve not heard a word. Sorry! What did you say?

A worried frown as Deran repeats his question. I asked if you were planning on staying in the workshop or if you need to get back to your lab.

Dreading finding mindhunters waiting there again makes the answer simple. I’ll remain and help where I can.

Deran nods, but says nothing. Perhaps because he thinks the only reason I’m staying is so I can sabotage the machine—and we agreed he wouldn’t know when or what I did. Little does he know it’s almost already completed.

With that thought in mind, I wander over to the table and inspect the cube’s holographic projection of the cold fusion device. I expand the area containing the part we just collected, playing with the angles like I’m thinking about something.

I’m so caught up in my pretense I almost don't register the workshop has gone silent. More than that. It’s like a morgue. I turn, freezing in place when I see the mindhunters. Oh no! Not again!

My mind addresses the inequivalent Hadamard matrices for the order of 32. As I process the calculations at my highest level, a more subterranean one worries the minus men are back because Cygnus is aware Deran and I just had a secret meeting in the forest. Or does he realize we saw the surgery this morning? I can't jump off the deep end. What else might he want?

Then I realize the minus men are headed my way, and my desperation only increases. The urge to run makes me want to bounce in place, but I keep my feet planted. Cygnus has had years to observe me. If I run now, he’ll know I’m hiding something.

I try to calm myself, coming up with another reason for this second meeting. The marriage proposal? Maybe he’s come to his senses and is going to recant the offer? A more ominous thought follows: what if he wants an answer now?

The minus men reach me. Director McQueen wants to see you.

Wordlessly, I nod and follow them, aware of the strain on Deran’s face as I pass him. But to reassure him now with these parasites right next to me would be insanity. Resigned to my fate, I allow the minus men to escort me.

This time, they don’t throw me inside, merely leave me in the anteroom. I guess I should be grateful for small mercies. Almost as an afterthought, I remember my earlier decision to stay on the right side of Hag Lady. Her steely gaze is pinned on me. Although I want to squirm, I force a smile. May I go in, Mrs. Jacobs?

Surprise flits across her eyes for a fraction of a second. She sniffs. You may.

I inhale what could be my last breath, then take firm hold of the door handle and enter Cygnus’s realm.

A few steps inside, I go through the usual dog-and-pony routine for the party line while another part of my mind gapes at the transformation. Where is the agitated man of an hour ago? Not only is every hair in place, but he’s changed his shirt, this one crisp, the collar lying flat. Worse, his eyes are sharp and clear. No sign of the befuddled, alcohol-infused brain of earlier.

Astatine! He must’ve used nanites to sober up!

The realization is as shocking as it is a warning. I can't manipulate this Cygnus so easily.

On cue, Cygnus offers an oily smile. Chiara, two meetings in one day. You’d think I had something important on my mind.

Why does he always have to play games?

No, if I was still the drugged, oblivious mouse of a few weeks back, I wouldn’t see it that way. So, how do I answer? Yes, Director Cygnus, I would say marriage qualifies.

Teeth gleam in a smile, contradicting the calculation in his hazel eyes. Ah yes, that it does. But that’s not why I asked you here.

Relief I won’t have to give an answer to his proposal wars with sudden fear. He resembles a cat about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. I prepare myself, urging caution not to show any emotions, to keep my mask on and in place.

I updated the Board. They wanted to deny your request to meet with your mother.

I allow the disappointment to show so I can mask the anger burning beneath. The snake! He’s blaming CC’s Board again, thinking I’m still too dulled by the coercion serum to realize he’s making the decisions.

Unperturbed, Cygnus continues, as if my heartache is insignificant. However, I argued against their decision, urging them to consider your success with the cold fusion device. Even if you couldn’t duplicate it.

He had to throw that in there, didn’t he? Resentfully, I recall his refusal back then to allow me time to verify the machine’s success, instead insisting I repeat it before studying the data. With hindsight, though, it was a blessing the machine failed that second time. It kept the cold fusion device out of his hands. Besides, studying those stats wouldn’t have changed a thing, if what I suspect about the real reason for the failure is true.

Nothing to say?

Cygnus’s eyes gleam coldly. I shouldn’t allow myself to get distracted in his presence. Yes, I know what he wants, but also, I already gave him a valid explanation in our meeting this morning for my wandering mind.

My apologies, Director Cygnus! I am working on improving my concentration. This said, I had lunch today, so there’s no reason for the lapse. I am sincerely sorry. Further, I regret the machine’s second test wasn’t as successful as the first. I am working diligently to remedy that as quickly as possible. Ugh, the groveling! How did I stand it for so many years?

Mollified, his eyes burn warmer again, more gold than the harsh brass that typically tells me he’s losing his temper. I’m pleased to hear as much. Especially considering what I proposed to the Board.

Trepidation hits like a gut punch. What insane idea has he come up with now? A proposal, Director Cygnus? The tremor into my voice isn't all for show. If he thinks I’m still his adoring, obedient mouse, ready to scurry off and do his bidding, he'll relax.

Yes. I needed something to persuade the Board to grant the meeting with your mother. Tell me, Chiara, how are you doing on your side project?

As usual, the change in topic blindsides me, giving me no time to prepare an answer. The side project remedies a shortfall of the current coercion serum, administered secretly in the food CC provides. Over time, some individuals develop resistance. Their dosage is then increased, meaning their food tray changes color. Ultimately, when this fails, CC resorts to brainwashing to control the person instead. Except it doesn’t work. If the poor subjects don't commit suicide, they become mindless and need constant care. In Cygnus’s words, people whose minds are murky.

Of course, I'm not meant to know any of this. My side project solution is meant to correct the clogged neural pathways from past exposure to toxic air, a miracle drug to retrain the minds of people affected by a particular ailment. Astatine, the lies!

I reach for a reply. One part of my brain scrambles to work out how much I should tell him about my progress. Another realizes he’s using me again.

Why am I still surprised?

The only answer—over a decade of conditioning making me believe he was a benevolent benefactor instead of a cruel tyrant—does little to assuage my anger. However, I find a civil tone.

My research so far shows an increasing number of people are suffering from this affliction. Now to walk the tightrope. If you could please provide the test results you mentioned when we first discussed this project, that would be most helpful.

I hold my breath, wondering if he’s going to explode again because I reminded him of something he hadn’t done. A brief flash of annoyance appears before he suppresses it again, but to my relief, his eyes don’t change color.

Didn’t Mrs. Jacobs send the data?

Al-Li! The coercion serum must’ve done a number on me if I couldn’t see before how he blames others for his mistakes. Careful not to let the revelation show, I paste an earnest expression onto my face. I’m sorry, Director Cygnus, but I received nothing from her.

Something I will remedy today. But, Chiara, when I do, I want results.

Resentment blazes. He’s getting something without giving me anything in return. Although I know better, I refuse to back down again. Director Cygnus, may I then request that, when I produce these results, I get to see my whole family, not just my mother?

Brass replaces gold. Ugh. Why, oh why, did I go there? I should’ve thought about how I was going to phrase that. I could’ve said it so much more eloquently, and I might’ve gotten what I wanted.

Chiara, do you think you can manipulate me into agreeing to let you see Xanin before you’ve finished the cold fusion project? I open my mouth to speak, but Cygnus doesn’t give me a chance. Eyes burning with cold heat, he crosses to where I stand, towering over me. "Never hold a project ransom again!"

He hisses the words, but their meaning is no less clear. If I do, he’ll probably kill my family. Horribly. I swallow. No need to hide my genuine regret—although more because this could’ve gone so much better than because I’m sorry for the attempt.

Pretending I’m a chastised child, I hang my head, keeping my voice soft. I am so sorry, Director Cygnus. I can’t bring myself to say more, even if my abasement is expected. Too many emotions war within me to hope I can contain them.

"Since you showed no gratitude for the efforts I made on your behalf to secure the visit with your mother, and instead tried to use the situation to gain an advantage I’ve repeatedly told you will not happen, you will now not see your mother until I have a drug in my hands that cures the problem! Then I will reconsider whether you get to see your other brother and sister as well, depending on how long it takes for you to provide the solution."

I hoped never to provide him a solution, partly because Deran doesn’t want me touching it, but more because I worry about Cygnus’s true intentions for the end product. Now, I can’t avoid completing the project if I want Ava to find where he’s hidden my family.

Well, if this is what Cygnus wants, this is what he’ll get. I’ll be implementing the half-baked plan that came to me one night when I couldn’t sleep.

The thought provides grim satisfaction. I sink in on myself as if Cygnus has utterly defeated me. Yes, Director Cygnus.

Cygnus gives it a beat, then concludes I’m no longer worthy of his time. Leave! Before I decide more immediate punishment is appropriate.

Yes, Director Cygnus. Somehow, I keep my tone meek and maintain the scolded-child impression throughout the hated tribute. I creep out of the room like a mouse who hopes to remain unnoticed.

Relieved when I exit without being recalled, I resist the urge to release the breath I’ve been holding. Instead, I offer Mrs. Jacobs a timid smile, maintaining the illusion of censure, and skulk to the elevator. Even there, I keep my head down, my shoulders slumped, aware of the eyes always watching me.

As I muse the meeting in the elevator ride back to the lab floor, one fact is clear. If I’m going to fight Cygnus, and win, it must be covertly. I can’t make the same mistake I just did: openly confronting him. He’ll always win. No, from now on, he can only see that same mouse beaten into submission, too scared to move in case the cat’s paw snaps out and those cruel claws sink in, flicking it back into the air for further torment.

Internally, though, I’m jubilant. Cygnus has sealed his own fate. He’s given me no choice but to commit to a plan of action I never intended following through on. But, should I succeed, it will cause his downfall.

3

As I step onto the lab floor, I realize how emotionally exhausted I am. I can’t face the thought of working again today. One glance at the wall clock and I groan. I’ll have to wait another ten tedious minutes before I’m free of this infernal building.

The thought surprises me. Once, I loved this place and the work I did here. Literally, it was heaven—except for the separation from my family.

Now, all I can see is