The Intellect

Chapter 1

The comfort of seeing Orrick fades when the Enforcers shove me around a corner and I lose sight of him. The Enforcers deposit me in one of the Civilization Center's elevators; the door slides shut after Mizpah enters behind me. We're alone. I sneak a glance at her, but her face is as stony and void as ever. I bide my time and try to count the floors we pass. The Advanced Training floor is floor three, just above ground level, but the Civilization Center descends at least twenty floors further underground. Some of these floors are so secret that I've never even visited them. Another reason I need a higher clearance level. I'll be lucky if I'm tierless by the time Mizpah's done with me. When a tremor washes through my body, I square my shoulders and stand straighter. I can't give into fear, at least not yet.

As we descend deeper into the depths of the Center, I risk another glance at the head Advanced Training instructor. "Mizpah, are you seriously not going to tell me what's going on? You know I'm one of the best Intellects the Civilization has. What did I do wrong?"

"We just need to ask you a few questions."

"About what?" I ask desperately.

She gives me no answer, her eyes fastened straight ahead. Mizpah, with her sharp black attire and austere demeanor, is the epitome of the precision the Civilization so deeply values. Unlike many of us, she doesn't need dyed hair, bright clothing, or intricate tattoos to set herself apart. Her buzzed head, perfect posture, and threatening black eyes have struck fear into Advanced Trainees for years. What does she want from me? As the elevator slides to a halt and the door opens, however, I wonder if I'm here under someone else's behest. We need to ask you a few questions. We. Who's we? The Advanced Training instructors? The Civilizers? Maybe this goes beyond Mizpah; maybe it even goes beyond me.

Mizpah's cool fingers latch onto my manacles and she shoves me forward, my Intellect collar in her other hand. I search my surroundings and immediately recognize where we are: Floor Subzero 18, the interrogation and holding floor. My eyes fly to Mizpah's, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead. The flicker of fear I felt before has grown into a full flame.

Enforcers line the hallway outside of the rooms, and when they see me, two of them escort me towards one of the doors. Interrogation Room Four. I look around wildly, searching for a friendly face or an explanation. I see a man being shoved into another room and recognize the long blonde hair and tattooed arms. Ryke.

My mind races to try to make sense of everything, to analyze the data like I always do, but I'm locked into a chair in the interrogation room before I can figure it out. The room is black and silent. I take a moment to calm my breathing and gather my wits. You can't get out of this until you figure out why you're here.

Ryke. Ryke is Jayse's best friend, and I'm Jayse's match, his Civilization-approved girlfriend. Jayse.

My thoughts can travel no farther before a fluorescent light shines into my face, blinding me. I wince and turn my head away, squinting.

A voice echoes through the speaker in the room, "State your name and rank."

I know that they're watching me behind the two-way mirror just past the light, but they have disguised the voice so I have no idea who's talking to me. Is it Mizpah? Is it another Infiltrator who specializes in forcing information out of the Civilization's suspects? Is it a Civilizer?

Some of my bravado returns and I scoff, "You know who I am. If you didn't, then why would you bring me here?"

"State your name and rank."

I sigh—the familiarity of the interrogation techniques is somehow comforting. I've observed and even assisted with interrogations in the past as part of Advanced Training, and this is no different. Except for the fact that I'm on the receiving end this time. I think through everything they look for: eye movement, facial expression, voice quality. They don't have me hooked up to a lie detecting machine or a heart rate monitor, so I doubt I'm on trial, but they—whoever they are—will be watching me carefully to determine if I'm being completely truthful or if I'm hiding something. I take a deep breath to calm my breathing. I have nothing to hide.

"Renna. Tier 3 Analyst Intellect."

"Are you matched, Intellect Renna?"

So this is about Jayse. "Yes."

"With whom?"

I withhold my frustration and answer, "Justice Jayse."

"And his rank?"

"Tier 3 Armory Specialist Justice."

"We are investigating Justice Jayse on some highly confidential matters related to the safety of the Civilization, and we are looking for your full cooperation."

My heart starts to beat faster, and I struggle to remain calm. "What are you talking about? Did Jayse do something?"

"That has yet to be determined, which is why we've asked to speak with you. I would like you to begin by describing the strengths and weaknesses of Justice Jayse. As his match, you are most closely familiar with his strengths as a Civilization Justice."

I close my eyes briefly to gather my thoughts. Just tell them the truth. They can't trap you with the truth. You have nothing to hide. My pulse still skitters faster.

"He's great with weapons--using and assembling them. Quick thinking. Confident. He's passionate about the Civilization. It's hard for me to imagine him doing anything to compromise it."

"We aren't looking for your opinions, Intellect Renna. We want facts."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Fine. He cares deeply about his fellow civilians and about the goals of the Civilization. He's charismatic and people are drawn to him. He's as smart as many Intellects and naturally inquisitive."

"And his flaws?"

I press my lips together and form my words carefully, "He is sometimes rash when he thinks others are in danger or when he's really driven to understand something. He can be a little single-minded when he's focused on a goal."

"Do you trust him?"

Do I trust anyone? Jayse may be my match, but he has to earn my trust just like anyone else, and he hasn't. As I fumble for words, my hesitation speaks for me.

"We will take that as a negative. Since you are both Tier 3 Advanced Trainees, please describe for me a typical day for Justice Jayse to the best of your knowledge."

I can recite his schedule almost as well as mine. "Breakfast at eight. Advanced Training from 8:30-12:00. We're all together, Justices and Intellects, during those times. We have lunch and then we work in the afternoons. Dinner is from six to seven and then the evenings are free."

"Do you and Justice Jayse spend your evenings together?"

I glare towards the harsh light as best I can, hoping they can sense my irritation with their implications. "We hang out sometimes. Sometimes he spends time with Justice Ryke. He exercises at the Training Center after hours almost every night. Sometimes he works late; he really loves weapons design."

"Do you and Justice Jayse discuss his work?"

I pause for a moment, pretending to think about the question while trying to make sense of what they're asking. Whatever it is that Jayse has done—or they think he's done—it's related to his work. I wish I'd shown more interest in his job. Truth be told, there's a reason I'm an Intellect; I know weapons are important to protect us from, well, whatever is supposedly outside of the Civilization, but I've never seen their purpose beyond subjugation and violence, so I usually ignore Jayse's rants about his work.

"I'm an Intellect. Weapons aren't exactly something I like to spend time discussing at length." I scowl, the only way I know to express my rage that won't leave me with a bullet in my brain.

"We will also take that as a negative. Please answer our questions directly, Intellect Renna."

"No. We didn't discuss his work. Honestly, I don't care much about weapons. I know enough to get through Advanced Training, but his work doesn't interest me." My exasperation surfaces as curiosity governs me. "What did he do that has you so concerned? Did he design some secret weapon? Why aren't you asking him about this? I don't know anything."

Their pause confuses me, and that's when I realize—they can't ask him. And if they can't ask him, then he's not here and they don't know where to find him. They don't know where he is. Jayse is gone.