The Rift Uprising Read Free

he’s trying to get a better view. He’s taking it in.
    He looks around. All he will be able to see is forest. He looks back at The Rift. “What the hell?” he asks in plain English. He reaches around for his backpack and then stops, bites his lip and slips it over his shoulder once again. “Oh my God.” His voice is just barely loud enough for me to hear. My hearing is enhanced, so he must have almost whispered it. The minutes tick by. He scratches his head and begins to pace. He’s trying to figure it out. He’s trying to analyze. I recognize this approach. I’ve seen it in others. There is no real logic to what’s happened to him, though. Well, there is—in a “PhD in quantum physics” type of way—but this guy doesn’t look old enough to have that. Besides, even if he could wrap his mind around how this happened, there is no rhyme or reason for why it happened to him. It’s moot at this point, though.
    The Five are up.
    â€œCommand, this is Beta Team leader. I’m going in.” My team begins to stand up, and I immediately stop them. “I’m going in alone,” I say with finality. I register their looks of annoyance. I don’t care. This guy is not a threat and he doesn’t need to be scared half to death by a bunch of commandos jumping out from behind a rock.
    â€œNot a good idea, Ryn,” I hear Applebaum say with authority. “What if there is a weapon in that backpack of his?”
    Applebaum doesn’t care about me personally one way or another. What he does care about is losing any Citadel—probably because of the expense that goes into training us. It’s hard to think of Applebaum caring about an actual person .
    â€œI don’t think there is,” I say. “I’m making the call, but it’s sweet that you’re worried about me.” I put my gun down and stand up. I try to imagine what this guy is going to think when he sees me pop out of nowhere. We wear a uniform, of course. A long-sleeved unitard in forest green. The suit was designed by the Roones—one of the first groups that came through The Rift, and the creators of a lot of the tech we use. In terms of the uniform, our outfits are made of a polymer titanium, and spandex for movement. The titanium is spun so lightly and so deftly that it weighs practically nothing, but it is in effect like chain mail, kind of like wearing a bulletproof vest on your whole body. They must have added another compound to the suits, to compensate for the impact of melee weapons, but the Roones don’t like to answer questions about exactly how things work. Since the suit has saved me more than a few times, it seems rude to keep asking.
    Attached to the bodysuit are strategically placed lengths of quilted black leather. Our knees, shoulders, elbows, and torsos are covered for added heat and protection in hand-to-hand combat. We wear boots, too, though they aren’t standard military issue. They look more like motocross meets Mad Max. I wish I could wear them outside of work, but we aren’t allowed to take any of these provisions home. How would we explain them to our parents? Especially the utility and weapons holsters? The guys generally choose to put khakis over the suit. I understand why. Tights are a pretty hard sell to a teenage boy.The girls have no such qualms. The suit helps us fight better and stay alive. I see no reason to alter it, even though we are all acutely aware that our uniform hugs every curve.
    I walk around the rock with my hands up. I have taken my holster off. I have no type of weapon on me at all. Granted, every Citadel is basically a living weapon—and yes, Boone loves to make that joke over and over.
    And over.
    The guy is looking not at me but down at the ground, shaking his head, muttering something to himself. I walk closer and clear my throat.
    â€œHi,” I say with a smile on my face. He looks up and I