“Anyway,” I say. “Your fears are rarely what they appear to be in the simulation.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, are you really afraid of crows?” I grin. “When you see one, do you run away screaming?”
“No, I guess not.”
She moves closer to me. I felt safer when there was more space between us. Even closer, and I think about touching her, and my mouth goes dry. I almost never think about people that way, about girls that way.
“So what am I really afraid of?” she says.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Only you can know.”
“I didn’t know Dauntless would be this difficult.”
I’m glad to have something else to think about, other than how easy it would be to fit my hand to the arch of her back.
“It wasn’t always like this, I’m told. Being Dauntless, I mean.”
“What changed?”
“The leadership. The person who controls training sets the standard of Dauntless behavior. Six years ago Max and the other leaders changed the training methods to make them more competitive and more brutal.” Six years ago, the combat portion of training was brief and didn’t include bare-knuckled sparring. Initiates wore padding. The emphasis was on being strong and capable, and on developing camaraderie with the other initiates. And even when I was an initiate, it was better than this—an unlimited potential for initiates to become members, fights that stopped when one person conceded. “Said it was to test people’s strength. And that changed the priorities of Dauntless as a whole. Bet you can’t guess who the leaders’ new protégé is.”
Of course, she does immediately. “So if you were ranked first in your initiate class, what was Eric’s rank?”
“Second.”
“So he was their second choice for leadership. And you were their first.”
Perceptive. I don’t know that I was the first choice, but I was certainly a better option than Eric. “What makes you say that?”
“The way Eric was acting at dinner the first night. Jealous, even though he has what he wants.”
I’ve never thought of Eric that way. Jealous? Of what? I’ve never taken anything from him, never posed a real threat to him. He’s the one who came after Amar, who came after me. But maybe she’s right—maybe I never saw how frustrated he was to be second to a transfer from Abnegation, after all his hard work, or that I was favored by Max for leadership even when he was positioned here specifically to take the leadership role.
She wipes her face.
“Do I look like I’ve been crying?”
The question seems almost funny to me. Her tears vanished almost as quickly as they came, and now her face is fair again, her eyes dry, her hair smooth. Like nothing ever happened—like she didn’t just spend three minutes overwhelmed by terror. She’s stronger than I was.
“Hmm.” I lean in closer, making a joke of examining her, but then it’s not a joke, and I’m just close, and we’re sharing a breath.
“No, Tris,” I say. “You look . . .” I try a Dauntless expression. “Tough as nails.”
She smiles a little. So do I.
“Hey,” Zeke says sleepily, leaning his head into his fist. “Want to take over for me? I practically need to tape my eyes open.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I just need to use a computer. You do know it’s only nine o’clock, right?”
He yawns. “I get tired when I’m bored out of my mind. Shift’s almost over, though.”
I love the control room at night. There are only three people monitoring the footage, so the room is silent except for the hum of computers. Through the windows I see only a sliver of the moon; everything else is dark. It’s hard to find peace in the Dauntless compound, and this is the place where I find it most often.
Zeke turns back to his screen. I sit at a computer a few seats over from him, and angle the screen away from the room. Then I log in, using the fake account name I set up several months ago, so no one would be able to track this back to me.
Once I’m logged in, I open the mirroring program that lets me use Max’s computer remotely. It takes a second to kick in, but when it does, it’s like I’m sitting in Max’s office, using the same machine he uses.
I work quickly, systematically. He labels his folders with numbers, so I don’t know what each one will contain. Most are benign, lists of Dauntless members or schedules of events. I open them and close them in seconds.
I go deeper into the files, folder after folder, and then I find something strange. A list of supplies, but the supplies don’t involve food or fabric or anything else I would expect for mundane Dauntless life—the list is for weapons. Syringes. And something marked Serum D2.
I can imagine only one thing that would require the Dauntless to have so many weapons: an attack. But on who?
I check the control room again, my heartbeat pounding in my head. Zeke is playing a computer game that he wrote himself. The second control-room operator is slumped to one side, her eyes half-closed. The third is stirring his glass of water idly with his straw, staring out the windows. No one is paying attention to me.
I open more files. After a few wasted efforts, I find a map. It’s marked mostly with letters and numbers, so at first I don’t know what it’s showing.
Then I open a map of the city on the Dauntless database to compare them, and sit back in my chair as I realize what streets Max’s map is focusing on.
The Abnegation sector.
The attack will be against Abnegation.
It should have been obvious, of course. Who else would Max and Jeanine bother to attack? Max and Jeanine’s vendetta is against Abnegation, and it always has been. I should have realized that when the Erudite released that story about my father, the monstrous husband and father. The only true thing they’ve written, as far as I can tell.
Zeke nudges my leg with his foot. “Shift’s over. Bedtime?”
“No,” I say. “I need a drink.”
He perks up noticeably. It’s not every night I decide I want to abandon my sterile, withdrawn existence for an evening of Dauntless indulgence.
“I’m your man,” he says.
I close down the program, my account, everything. I try to leave the information about the Abnegation attack behind, too, until I can figure out what to do about it, but it chases me all the way into the elevator, through the lobby, and down the paths to the bottom of the Pit.