Allies Read Free Page B

Combatant status, and, well, you’ve got the Pentagonal Spire in a nutshell. It’s not because there’s anything wrong with you; it’s just because you seem like an easy target.”
    Wyatt’s eyes stung, and to her horror, she realized she was tearing up.
    “No, no, don’t cry,” Heather warned her softly, her hand tightening on her shoulder. “Never cry here. That’s rule one. Rule two: never go to the social worker. They say she’s here to help us, but really, going to her is like an admission you’re too much of a wimp to cut it. You don’t want the vultures to start circling.”
    “I should just quit,” Wyatt whispered.
    She thought of getting the neural processor removed, going back to herself. Going back to the comfortable space where she was never lonely, even when she was alone.
    But Heather was still stroking her back, which made her feel slightly less alien, slightly less strange, slightly more a part of something. “Oh, but you’re missing rule three.”
    “What?” Wyatt said hopelessly.
    “Rule three is listen to me, because I’m going to help you, Wyatt. I’m taking you under my wing.” She winked. “I can be like your mentor.”
    Wyatt looked at her, and she knew then she couldn’t go back. Not really. She would know she’d lost this. She’d know she’d left this behind, those rare moments when she felt connected to people. She would always know she’d chosen comfortable isolation rather than overcome pain.
    “Why are you being so nice to me?” Wyatt asked her.
    Heather smiled, still stroking her back. “Oh, sweetie, it’s just because you seem to really need it.”
     
    R EALLY, THOUGH, IT was because Heather had figured out Wyatt was the best computer programmer among the trainees.
    And an easy target.
    Later, Wyatt reflected bitterly upon how easy it had been. All Heather had to do was sit with her in class sometimes, and Wyatt was pathetically grateful. All she had to do was be nice when she talked to her, and Wyatt felt this great rush of affection like she’d found a best friend. She told Heather everything, and Heather always knew the thing to say to make life seem a little better.
    So when the day came that Heather confided one of her own problems, Wyatt was pathetically eager to return the favor.
    “I can’t get into CamCo. I have no future here. I just have to accept it,” Heather lamented.
    “Why not?” Wyatt said, upset on her behalf. “You deserve it.”
    “Because I don’t have rich, connected parents. My dad’s dead, and my mom hates me—but whatever, I hate her, too. She couldn’t control her boyfriends.” They were sitting alone in Wyatt’s bunk, and to Wyatt’s shock, tears sparked bright in Heather’s eyes. “Don’t ever tell anyone this, Wyatt, but there’s this politician from my hometown. Al Heinz. He’s in the senate now, but whatever. My mom worked in his office and he was a skeeze. He liked pretty and young, emphasis on ‘young.’ ‘Pretty’ was negotiable. He certainly didn’t mind when I had big glasses and ugly sweatshirts.”
    Wyatt caught her breath.
    “Needless to say”—Heather’s voice shook—“I had proof and he knew he’d have to buy me off. That’s why I’m here.” Her eyes glinted in the light. “I didn’t accomplish anything beyond that. I have nothing. I was poor; I had no connections. What could I have done? That’s what the N/A in my personnel profile means. Accomplishments: none available.” She gave a bitter, tearful laugh. “I don’t know why I bothered coming here to make a better life. How can I? The companies won’t even consider sponsoring me because I have no accomplishments. There’s no one advocating for me.”
    Wyatt was horrified. It was so unfair. “Couldn’t you . . . do something now?”
    Heather tossed her hair. “Come on, when do we have time? The only hope I have . . .” Then she stopped and laughed. “No, not hope. Stupid, wild fantasy that will never