The Corp Read online

  The Corp

  Book 2, The Resistance Files

  Eliza Green

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

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  33

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  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  BOOKS BY ELIZA GREEN

  WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR/CONNECT

  Copyright

  1

  Anya

  A holographic billboard set against a tall building in Zone One blinked, catching Anya’s eye.

  A Corp advertisement.

  Before Anya’s memory restoration treatment, the faceless organization that controlled the Sects had meant nothing to her. No more than a brand name. The name had been stamped liberally on buildings, on the sides of warehouses, on shipping containers—even on her school supplies. It had followed her during her endless trips from Sect to Region and back.

  Agatha, a commander working in the Base—the hub for security in San Francisco’s Sect—had told her the people who ran the Corp never visited the Sects. They had no reason to. Everything in the high-walled, war-ready colonies operated smoothly.

  But after her treatment in the Region, Anya knew better than to take anything at face value. The Corp was far from a brand name. It had come up with the idea of the Sects when war from other unified colonies threatened their democracy.

  The billboard flashed with a different message to the usual motivational one.

  Want to make a difference? The Corp needs you.

  Dom, her soul mate and best friend, whom she’d met during one of the worst times in her life, stared out at the water. They had been out of the Region for a month now, feeling listless and without a purpose. No longer of use to the cause. Because the cause no longer existed. Anya had noticed a change in his mood. He’d become more withdrawn, not interested in much except sitting in their Zone One apartment or pounding the pavement during one of his excessively long runs.

  She prodded him, breaking him from his staring competition with nature. Then she pointed up at the board.

  ‘What do you think of that?’

  He cupped his eyes as he looked into the bright sky. ‘New work opportunities in the Corp? I suppose we could ask Agatha about it.’

  His lackluster tone drew a similar reply from Anya. ‘I suppose.’

  The commander of the Base had not been forthcoming with information. She had been cagey about plenty before Anya’s memory restoration treatment. After, Anya knew exactly why.

  Cynthia.

  Her friend had stopped Quintus from destroying the Sect, an act that had pushed the synth into her second life cycle sooner than planned. The process might have purged Cynthia’s memories of their friendship, but Anya had seen glimmers of her friend beneath the cool exterior of the SLC synth. She hadn’t seen Cynthia since their last meeting two weeks ago, after Anya’s memories of their connection had been returned to her. Whenever she’d suggested they catch up, Cynthia had declined, stating work as the excuse.

  Anya had expected life to get easier after regaining knowledge of the Sects. But remembering her past had not enlightened her about the world beyond what a normal sixteen year old would know. And Agatha was not open to explaining it to her.

  She re-read the advertising message seeking those with Sol skills to work in the Corp. Their plan for a new American colony—meaning five more Sects—was well underway, the advertisement said. More cities had agreed to adopt the Sect lifestyle and the Corp needed experienced people to help with the transition.

  ‘It might be a good way to see what’s going on out there,’ said Dom, showing more interest than usual. ‘See what’s beyond this Sect.’

  The idea of breaking free appealed to her. She didn’t understand why but this Sect no longer felt like home.

  ‘So much of the Sect layout reminds me of the Region,’ she blurted out.

  Okay, maybe she did.

  Dom turned to her. ‘What do you mean?’

  She sighed. ‘The similarities bothered me at first: the layout, the segregation of the people...’

  ‘They still bother me.’

  She looked up at her soul mate, taller than her by several inches. ‘I know we’ve been fighting to forget Quintus, but his influence is everywhere. Except, he’s just one AI. The Sect existed long before the Region did.’ She paused. ‘It occurred to me that what he created in there he may have learned out here. The Sects are the real issue, not the Region.’

  Dom gave a hard shiver. ‘I never thought of it like that before.’

  Anya continued. ‘So I was thinking, maybe we could tell the Corp what it was like for us in there and change how things are done out here.’

  He didn’t look convinced. ‘It’s a nice idea.’

  Always the pragmatist, always over thinking. Sometimes she hated that about him.

  The Region might no longer exist, but Anya wasn’t done enacting change. Helping was in her blood now. Before she’d entered the Region and during the first several months living there, she’d been a brat. She’d grown up since then—Quintus had seen to that. But the fifteen months the AI had stolen from her had to count for something.

  The longer she was kept from work the more restless she felt. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful for the money she’d earned, as payment for her time in there, or the apartment in a prime location in the Sect, but what was it for? So she could sit around and twiddle her thumbs? Dom might not openly admit to it, but he wore a look of boredom most days.

  Perhaps they could both do good for the people here.

  ‘Why don’t you ask Agatha?’ Dom added after a moment. ‘We’re supposed to have our mandatory induction with her tomorrow.’

  Agatha had given them a grace period to attend, but tomorrow that period expired.

  ‘Do you think the others would be interested in working for the Corp?’ she asked, wondering about her friends who’d also escaped the Region.

  Dom shrugged. ‘You should ask them tonight, at dinner.’

  The doorbell to their apartment rang for the third time.

  ‘Would you get that?’ shouted Dom. ‘I’m in the middle of stirring.’

  Anya turned in front of the mirror in their bedroom and smoothed down her red-and-white, floral dress. The bed behind her was littered with dozens of dresses she’d tried on and tossed away. The apartment in Zone One had come fully furnished and stocked, including with clothes. They had left the Region with just the filthy clothes on their backs.

  Three square meals a day had given her back the weight she’d lost in the Region after months on a controlled diet. She smiled at her healthier looking body.

  But then her throat ached from the stress of tonight. It had been a week since she’d last seen her friends from the Region, and that had only been for a quick catch up. Anya sensed a separation brewing. While the Region had united them, the Sect appeared to be pushing them apart. She hoped a discussion about doing more in the Sect would break the tension and bring them closer together.

  Where is she?’ a female voice demanded from the hallway outside their apartment door. ‘Anya, hurry up, I’m dying to eat!’

  ‘Okay, I’m coming!’

  Grinning, Anya rushed over to the door and opened it. Sheila, Dom’s oldest friend, stood there, one hip popped out to the side. Imogen, her girlfriend, stood next to her, looking apologetic. She wore jeans and a pretty, floral blouse.

  Sheila gestured in mock irritation. ‘There you are.’

  She wore a short, blue-and-white, summery dress that complemented her golden tan. Her long, brown hair with sun-kissed streaks was tied up in a high ponytail.

  June had Frahlia with her. The girl with bright blue eyes whose growth had been accelerated before their escape studied Anya. She looked a little older than when they’d crossed over—about five years old. The medics must have stopped her rapid growth. But the girl had far more intelligence than a human child of the same age.

  June gave a quiet nod.

  ‘About time,’ said Sheila. ‘Imogen was worried you might not be in.’

  Imogen gave her a look that said, Really?

  Sheila pushed her way inside.

  Dom continued to clatter around in the kitchen; it turned out the man with Italian heritage could cook. Dom’s family had been Moles, the lowest rank out of the five skills in the San Francisco Sect: Sol, Tech, Neer, Earther, Mole. Anya’s family had been Earthers. Not that her immersion in that life had done her much good. She couldn’t cook, and she had no idea how to grow vegetables. In the Region, Jason had done the cooking. Before that it had been her parents.

  Anya guided the small party to the sofa. The stress she felt presented in her body as a general ache. She perched on the edge of the seat, while the others did the same, looking uneasy. Frahlia, the child created through Quintus’ Breeder program, just stared at her.

  June sniffed the air, flashing a smile that looked too
polite, too forced. ‘Mmm, what’s for dinner, Dom?’

  ‘Pasta Arrabiata.’

  ‘Lovely. Frahlia’s taken to some foods, but I want her to experience as much as possible.’

  Anya simply nodded. Children and their eating habits was not her specialty.

  Sheila looked Anya over. ‘Do you want to get changed first? We can wait.’

  ‘I am changed.’

  Sheila feigned surprise. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were going to model your overalls for us tonight. You know, show us what Earthers wear. Gumboots and blue overalls, with streaks of dirt on the face.’

  Anya stuck her tongue out at the young woman. She had been an enemy once, but no more.

  ‘I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.’

  ‘There is, but it wouldn’t be like me to give it to you.’ Sheila looked around. ‘Is it just us tonight?’

  ‘No, Jerome will be joining us.’

  The original Arcis team—or what was left of it—back together.

  Some of the others couldn’t make it: Thomas, Charlie, Vanessa, Jacob, Carissa. Alex hadn’t shown much interest in keeping in touch.

  She didn’t blame him. All the escapees except Alex and Jerome—both born in the Region—had been through the memory reversal treatment. A lifetime of memories had been returned and separation had ensued. Everyone was dealing with the shock in their own way.

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Anya, striding over to it. She opened it to see a smiling Jerome. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Smells great in here.’ He walked in and looked around. ‘I wish I’d known Dom back when I had to fend for myself. Cooking would have been a useful skill to have.’

  Jerome’s escape from Quintus’ control had been unplanned and daring. He’d survived on eating scraps from bins, before a friend—Frank—had taken him in.

  Anya returned to the sofa. She flicked her gaze to June, the petite blonde with the skill of a Sol. Something was off with her. She had her hands clasped too tightly to the front.

  A clatter on the dining table startled Anya. She looked back to see Dom putting food on the table.

  ‘Come on, let’s eat,’ he said.

  Anya’s stomach grumbled, her tension forgotten. She took a seat at the table and piled her plate with food. Despite the awkwardness among their guests, she couldn’t wait to eat. The others tucked in except for June, who pushed her food around the plate.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked her former Arcis companion.

  June looked up, distracted. ‘What? Oh, nothing.’

  ‘Is everything okay with her?’

  Anya pointed at Frahlia, who was more interested in the food in the serving bowls than their conversation.

  ‘Yeah, it’s just...’ June dropped her fork. It clattered to the plate. ‘I’m not sure it’s good for her to be reminded so often of the Region. Too many memories, you know?’

  Frahlia hadn’t suffered the same trauma as those around the table. Anya guessed June was using her daughter as an excuse, to deflect the real issue.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Sheila. Always the first to cut to the chase. ‘Come on, June, we’ve all been through so much together. Why not try a little honesty?’

  June sighed. ‘Fine. I don’t think these dinners are a good idea. The Region—’ She shivered. ‘I can’t get the memories out of my head. They follow me everywhere I go. I’m reminded of it every time I see all of you. I took a walk in Zone One yesterday, down by the docks. Well, the Sols there, they reminded me of Quintus’ Copies. I had a panic attack. Luckily, Frahlia wasn’t with me.’ She sat back. ‘I’m sorry. I know we agreed nothing would change after we got our memories back, but I’m on edge all the time. I want a better life. I want Frahlia to have a better life.’

  Jerome lowered his eyes. He was the only one at the table without a past. The Region was all he’d ever known.

  June continued. ‘Agatha says I can enroll her in school, upskill her with one of the five approved San Fran Sect skills when she’s old enough. They’re stopping her growth for now, until I decide what to do for her.’

  ‘Yeah, sounds like you should do that,’ Jerome said, sounding bitter.

  Anya released a long, slow breath. She was done fighting to preserve what they’d had. It was possible their friendships in the Region had been unique and was not transferable to the Sect.

  ‘It’s been two weeks since our memories were returned to us,’ said June. ‘I want to forget the Region. I want to stop having nightmares about the place.’

  ‘Not all of us have the luxury of forgetting where we came from,’ Jerome muttered.

  June gripped his shoulder. ‘Perhaps not, but the Sect is our home now. Instead of reliving the past, shouldn’t we all find out where our place is here?’

  Everybody fell silent.

  Anya looked around the table. Gathered around her was the only family she needed. Dom, the young man she’d met inside one of Quintus’ traps and who had taught her how to survive; June, who had taught her how to be strong, brave; Sheila who’d shown her that friendships came in all guises; and Jerome, who’d proved that what someone was didn’t matter. Beneath his dark hair and dark skin, he and Anya were the same. Flesh and blood. Charlie, Jacob, Thomas, Vanessa, Alex, and young Carissa weren’t present tonight, but they would never be forgotten.

  At the beginning it had felt right to keep the old gang together, but why? To preserve what they had?

  Anya sighed again. ‘June’s right.’

  Dom’s eyes widened. ‘You want us all to separate?’

  ‘Yes, no... maybe.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to be here. We shared a bond once. Perhaps that bond is no longer there.’

  Her throat tightened on the last sentence.

  All eyes were on her, waiting for her to explain more. Waiting for the perfect excuse to separated and follow their own paths.

  Dom looked down at his plate. Sheila chewed on her lip. June and Jerome glanced at each other. Frahlia, the perpetually quiet child, simply looked from one face to the other, as if every experience was a teachable moment.

  ‘I want to do more in the Sect,’ Sheila blurted out. ‘Dinner parties are lovely and all, but they’re not cutting it. June has a point. We need to find our own way.’

  Imogen, a friend to all and an ally in this past war, simply smiled and nodded. Anya suspected she would follow Sheila wherever she went.

  Anya peered at Dom. His experience in the Region had been bad enough, but his father’s abuse in this very Sect had been worse. Neither place held happy memories for him. Their brief conversation about the Corp that afternoon was the first time they’d spoken about what they might do since getting their memories back.

  Anya’s hands shook, brought on by a sudden worry that Dom wanted separation too.

  Before he could say, she jumped in with a response of her own. ‘We all chose a skill before we entered here. Agatha said we could become that.’

  Sheila pouted. ‘I’m not sure I want to be an Earther.’

  Anya widened her eyes in surprise. ‘Is that what you chose?’

  ‘Well, it was either that or become a mind manipulator like my parents. But psychology isn’t one of the chosen skills here. Plus, I was young and stupid when I picked it.’

  Worrying about what might or might not happen wouldn’t do them any good. One thing was certain: all good things must end. Even Jacob and Charlie had moved on.

  Nobody ate. This was the most pathetic dinner party she’d ever hosted.

  A lump rose to the back of Anya’s throat. They had all lost so much together. But did that have to be the end of their connection? Why shouldn’t they start anew?

  Guilt had a funny way of disguising the best route ahead.

  ‘What about you, Jerome?’ Sheila asked. ‘What do you want to do here?’

  He shrugged. ‘Agatha said she would find a place for me. I guess I should see what the Sect has to offer.’

  ‘She said she would find places for everyone,’ said Dom.

  ‘She said the same thing to me too,’ said Sheila.

  June smiled, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

  ‘Hey, when are you all due to meet Agatha?’ Anya asked.

  ‘Done,’ said June.

  ‘Us too,’ said Sheila.

  ‘I did my session with her last week,’ said Jerome. ‘What about you?’