Page 21 of V-Day

They also left clues around the Internet which other equally smart people could find. One by one, more members trickled in. Cristián formalized the Group in 2001, along with the membership rules. The use of nicknames and anonymity allowed them to deal with each other honestly and freely. He didn’t delude himself that anonymity was a security thing, for any of the Group had the ability to dig behind the shields and find out who everyone else was. No one bothered, though. They liked the unbiased support and total acceptance that came with facelessness.

Cristián chose Shadow as his handle and from the beginning he found himself a leader of the Group.

In 2006 a new member arrived, who asked to be called Babylon.

For Babylon Five? someone asked Babylon, their avatar switching to a bored expression.

For the Stars over Babylon function, Babylon replied, their avatar rolling its eyes.

Mathematics, Cristián recalled.

Some members drifted away after learning the Group’s culture. Usually, it was because the new member had an almost normal life beyond the Internet and didn’t need the intense, concentrated support and acceptance of the Group.

Babylon, though, had stayed.

Cristián grew used to Babylon’s quick mind—he leaned toward mathematics and the hard sciences. Babylon was one who fell foul of authority and got caught up in the system. He had escaped through some means he didn’t share with anyone, except to say he had learned the hard way to stay low and invisible, to not stand out.

It had taken Cristián a year to wonder if Babylon was not a man. By then, Babylon was a core member of the group and, to Cristián’s mind at least, indispensable.

In all the years since, the Group had been a silent part of Cristian’s life, unspoken to anyone in the greater world.

So why had Cristián spoken her name aloud now? If nothing was ever an accident, then for a reason he had yet to fathom, hewantedto use her Group nickname, to speak it where someone else would hear.

Or was it simply old habits asserting themselves? That couldn’t be, though—he wasn’t at his keyboard, this wasn’t on-line. This was the real world.

And she is here, right in front of you. Babylon herself.

Cristián shook off the distracting memories with an impatient mental growl, for Parris Graves wore a little frown as she studied him. He understood that frown. He’d said something or done something which did not sound normal. He’d roused curiosity.

Chloe, though, merely raised a brow. In warning?

Cristián shook his head, physically thrusting all the concerns and memories and worry about looking normal aside. This was too important. “You can’t bomb the Palace,” he told Parris, repeating himself for emphasis.

Parris pursed her lips. “I have my orders—”

“Your orders are wrong,” Cristián interrupted.

Her brows lifted.

“I know where the drone control room is,” Cristián said. “And it isn’t in the city.”