Clean.
“Welcome, contestants,” a deep voice greeted from above, amplified through the biochips behind their ears.
Gemma looked up at the man standing on a balcony above, dressed in an expensive two-piece suit that could only be found off-world. His brown hair, streaked with gray, was perfectly parted to the side, his teeth as bright in person as they appeared on his pamphlets. Gemma recognized him immediately: the game master and Zion’s director, Rami—the man who murdered Nadine.
The man who would soon die by Gemma’s hand.
She remembered the visualization as clearly as the day Reymond had shown her: Rami’s hands around Nadine’s neck; her gorgeous blue eyes bulging as she clawed at the whitened knuckles that refused to budge; her body sagging when the light left her eyes.
The images haunted Gemma’s dreams even now.
She clenched her fists, trying to keep her face neutral. On either side of Rami were elegant, white robots holding electropads. Gemma suspected the electropads and robots were connected to the security systems, already scanning the contestants and observing their every tic. She couldn’t give them a reason to single her out at the very start. If she wanted to succeed, she needed to blend in.
“Congratulations on making it to Zion,” Rami continued, his voice kind and uplifting. “I must commend you; that hike isn’t an easy one. But you all made it, so I have confidence that each of you will succeed in your Trials and join us on the Oranos Space Station. There, you will not only change Reva for the better but also the entire United Planetary Systems themselves.”
Gemma forced her eyes not to roll when her fellow contestants cheered at Rami’s words. They had no idea the man standing above them was a murderer.
They had no idea their roles on Oranos would mean nothing.
According to the Dissent, the only jobs given to winners of the Trials were militaristic, sent to the Systems’ planets to enforce “order” and put down anyone who fought back. They were just part of the government’s scheme to let the poor die on their behalf.
Soon, the people of Perileos would take back control of their own planet. Through Rami’s death, a statement would be made, and the Systems’ government would have no choice but to pay attention.
They were not going to be trampled on any longer. They would fight until Reva had two seats in the Cabinet that oversaw the entirety of the Systems, and Oranos would be theirs to use as they saw fit.
Rami swung his hand toward the doors where armed guards in black military gear stood. “Now, if you would please enter one of the lifts when the keylocks turn green, you will be directed to your dormitory for the entirety of your Trials. Do so in an orderly manner, please. There are enough beds for everyone. Your first test begins in the morning. Rest well.”
Commotion filled the foyer as Rami disappeared from view. Gemma dug her fingernails deeper into her palms. Waiting until after the Trials to end him was going to be torture in itself.
Contestants hurried toward the lift doors, pushing each other out of the way. Gemma sighed, meandering to the closest one where she boarded along with at least twenty other people.
The tightness of the enclosure was almost suffocating, a near parallel to her evening commute from work. Gemma held her breath—they alldidsmell awful, herself included—until the lift stopped, then everyone jumped out as if they’d been sucked out of an airlock.
The hall they’d been brought to was as sterile as the foyer, but the walls were made of panes of white metal and the floor was glossy and black. Strips of light blue ultralights shone from floor to ceiling, guiding their way toward a set of double doors locked open.
Waiting inside was another of the white service robots. This one also held an electropad, and its circular, neon-blue eyes moved back and forth between the contestants as they neared.
“Gentlemen, to the right. Ladies, to the left,” it said in a monotone, mechanical voice.
The girls walked down the hall’s left fork until they reached another set of double doors, through which was a rectangular room lined with gray lockers. On each was a black fibroglass ring, inlaid with a strip of light blue ultralight.
The robot in the center of the locker room handed out instructions. “Please take a ring. It will imprint with your DNA. This will be your key to your locker and all facilities. Loss of the ring will result in automatic dismissal.”
Harsh. Gemma slipped the fibroglass ring onto a finger of the hand that didn’t house her poison one. The blue ultralight flashed brighter before softening until it was almost unnoticeable.
The robot then instructed the ladies to place all their personal items inside a locker, including the clothes they wore—underwear and all.
“You want us naked?” one of the girls shouted, shock coating the tone of her voice. Several others followed her outbursts with their own, fighting to keep their undergarments and rebelling against wandering around in the nude.
“You will comply, or you may leave,” the robot answered.
Gemma stuffed down her pride and did as she was instructed. Anything she needed to do to get close to Rami, she would. That was the only thing that mattered.
She slipped the poison ring into her fist and shut the door of her locker. This was the one thing she wouldn’t leave behind, however. Even if she had to stick it somewhereunfavorable, she was not parting with it.
Another girl fought to keep a necklace given to her by her mother, and when the robot relented, declaring jewelry permissible, Gemma sighed in relief. She slipped her poison ring back onto her finger. Her insides would remain free of foreign objects.
The robot moved to a doorway at the opposite end of the room. “This way. Uniforms on the other side.”
