After a frustrating afternoon, Devon went to dinner picturing the almighty mess of another Council operative in their midst. Wonderful. All she needed.

Fueled by his positive check-up that morning, Uly campaigned to get up and eat with everyone else, instead of staying in bed. He was getting into the bored-and-annoying stage of his recovery, and Devon gritted her teeth and gave in, extracting a promise of going back to bed right afterwards. Uly promised with a look of angelic obedience that meant he was going to find some way out of it.

"Ever think we should just freeze them at about nine or so?" Devon asked John as they stood in line for food. "Before adolescence."

"Sounds like a plan," he said wearily.

Devon studied him. There were lines dug in around his nose and mouth. She looked over her shoulder. True stood as far away from her father as the line allowed, emitting I-hate-you rays when she forgot that she was ignoring him. Uly was attempting, anxiously, to coax her out of it, but she wouldn’t be coaxed. Devon thought, At least they’re getting along again.

"Bad day?" Devon asked John.

"Understatement."

"Wanna hear about mine?"

As he listened, the tension eased out of his face and shoulders, just as she’d hoped. "And Julia didn’t know of any other Council shills?"

"No, which makes both of us think that if there is one among the colonists, they wouldn’t know about Julia."

"If?" he said skeptically.

Devon rubbed her forehead. "Okay, I know that’s the simplest explanation. Occam’s Razor and all that. But something about all this just isn’t lining up for me. I don’t know what."

"Hm," he grunted.

"You know what’s strange?" she said. "It’s not--it’s so--"

He frowned, visibly turning it over in his head. "So damn sloppy," he said. "Like a rush patch job."

"Exactly! Julia says that any pediatrician on staff, opening up Ryan’s file, would have noticed. Whoever Linsborough is, they had to have known it wouldn’t be good for very long."

"Maybe they didn’t think it’d have to hold for too long," John pointed out. "They nearly got away with it."

"Still . . . the Council’s always been more anal-retentive than this."

They chewed the problem over until Devon was sick of it, convinced that if she heard the name Linsborough one more time, she would scream. They were so distracted they forgot to pick up their drinks at the bar, and didn’t realize it until they’d managed to get a spot for four, a precious commodity in the crowded dining room.

"I’ll get them," she said, unwilling to sit and be still right now. The whole thing had her keyed up, frustrated, and wanting to do something so badly that her teeth ached. Walking up to the bar to get drinks would have to do for now.

She had to wait for a temporary logjam to clear out of one of the aisles. Chatter surrounded her, and she listened to it idly. Ray Guerrero wormed past her, datapad in hand, to poke Matt Shaw in the shoulder.

"Matt, look."

"What?"

"It’s not working."

"You dork, you spelled it wrong."

"Shut up! I put it in right."

"You misspelled it," Matt insisted. "Here, I’ll do it--"

"Give that back, buttcake!"

"L-I," Matt singsonged, "N-S--"

The words leapt out. "What are you doing?"

Both boys froze, hunched over a datapad. Ray’s hands were curled around the edge, and Matt was holding the stylus in one hand. After a breathless second as they stared up at her, they said in perfect unison, "Nothing."

She looked around. They were all getting some funny looks. She crooked her finger. "Come with me."

They hesitated.

She assumed the mask of the highest authority they knew, and said in the Mom-Voice, "Now."

They had to go out on the porch. She turned to them and folded her arms. "All right. Now tell me: are you trying to sign into the medical server?"

Their eyes widened. "No!" Ray said.

"No way!" Matt added, as if the additional word might convince her. "We’re--we’re--"

"Homework," Ray said in a wild burst of inventiveness, apparently on the theory that all grown-ups approved of homework and thought kids should do as much of it as possible. "We’re looking up stuff for homework."

"Yeah," Matt added, almost on top of Ray’s words.

"What kind of homework subject is spelled L-I-N-S-B-O-R-O-U-G-H?"

They gaped for a second that stretched out long and thin. Devon wasn’t entirely sure how the leap had been made, or even if she was right, but she held her breath anyway.

Suddenly, Ray blurted, "You’re not going to tell my mom, are you?"

Matt elbowed him hard, with a hiss of, "Shupstupit!"

"Dipwad, she knows," Ray said.

Devon let out her breath. Finally, something. "I don’t know everything. That’s what I need your help for."

Matt crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, unless you promise not to tell our parents, we’re not going to tell you anything." He nudged Ray. "Right?"

"Yeah," Ray said.

"Matt--Ray. This is really important. It’s not just about you getting into or staying out of trouble. I’ve got to know more about that sign-in. I’ve got to."

"If it’s really that important, promise not to tell our parents," Ray said.

Her mouth fell open. "I just got done telling you--"

"Promise," Matt said flatly. "Or we’re not spilling anything."

Devon tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling of the porch. She couldn’t believe she was being played like this by a pair of eleven-year-olds. Abruptly, she had much more sympathy for John. She gritted her teeth. "Fine," she said ungraciously.

"You won’t tell?"

"I won’t tell."

"Spit on it?" This from Ray.

"No," Devon said. "Tell me. Where did you get that sign-in from? Who else knows it?"

"Everybody," Matt said.

"Everybody?" she asked blankly. "Everybody who?"

"All the kids," Matt clarified.

"Are you saying that every kid in New Pacifica knows this sign-in?" And she could have avoided ten minutes of haggling?

They gave that some thought. "Not, like, the really little ones," Ray said. "They don’t know all the big words. And not the Syndrome kids. But the rest of us--yeah. Pretty much."

"Why?"

Matt crossed his arms. "Well, how else am I ever supposed to find out what’s going on with Jaden?" Jaden was his brother.

"Nobody ever tells kids anything," Ray added. "For all I know, Lena could’ve grown, like, a third eye."

His friend looked at him. "Dorkus, if she had a third eye you’d see it."

Ray rolled his eyes and said with deep and gusty patience, "It’s an example, moron."

"It’s a stupid example, like your face."

"Yeah, well, your face--"

"Enough!" Devon said sharply, and they both gave her a look that asked why she’d broken up their fun. "Do you know of any adult that’s used it?"

"No," Ray said, as if that was hilariously obvious. "Why would they need to?"

"Who gave it to you? Was it a nurse? A tech? A doctor?"

Ray said scornfully, "No way. I told you, grown-ups don’t know about it."

"’Cept now," Matt muttered.

Devon ignored that, asking instead. "You got it from another kid?"

"From Molly Ketchum."

"From Molly? Who did she get it from?"

"Dunno. She just knew, I guess."

"Maybe it, like, got passed down through generations of Syndrome siblings," Matt suggested. "Maybe it’s a heirloom." He aimed a hopeful look at her. "Maybe you should just let us have it. I mean, what could it hurt?"

"Sorry, boys. The account’s already been shut down and removed from the server. Permanently."

"Aw, man!"

Ray said, "See, I told you I couldn’t get in, and I didn’t mispell it."

Before they could start poking each other again, Devon said, "Listen, if you hear anything related to this sign-in--anything you remember--if anyone says something--you’ll tell me, won’t you?"

They eyed her mistrustfully.

She said, "If I hear you kept something from me, the next thing I’ll do is call your parents."

"Okay, okay, okay!" They held their hands up in surrender.

* * *

When she got back to the table, Uly said, "Mom, where are the drinks?"

She looked down at her empty hands. "Oh--sorry. Something came up." She slid onto the bench next to John. "Congratulate me," she muttered to him. "I’m reduced to threatening children."

"Some of ‘em could use it," he said, in a voice clearly designed to carry across the table.

True shot him a glare.

Devon tried not to smile. She continued in the same low tone. "Listen. I need to ask True a few things. Can you go get the drinks? I don’t think she’ll be too cooperative with you here."

"What does she know about Linsborough?" He cast his daughter a suspicious look.

"Nothing, herself," Devon soothed. "But she may be able to tell me something that could lead to him."

He frowned, then got up. "I’ll be back," he said, and headed off toward the bar.

True, no fool, looked at Devon. "What."

"Calm down," Devon said. "I just have a question for the two of you. Do you know anything about Molly’s friendships before she left the stations?"

True’s face went blank. Clearly, this was the last thing she’d been expecting. "Molly? You want to know who Molly hung out with?"

Devon folded her hands. "Anybody. An adult, even." Somebody who’d gotten Molly to trust them--

But True was shaking her head. "She doesn’t talk about anybody. I don’t think the other kids were real nice."

Devon looked at Uly. "Can you think of anyone?"

Uly shrugged. "There was Carlie James for a little while. Remember, Danny’s sister?"

But the Jameses had dropped out of the project four years before, when Danny had died. Long before the sign-in had been activated for the first time.

Uly was still talking. "And there’s always Ryan McNab."

Devon’s head snapped around.

True said airily, "That’s nothing."

"It’s not nothing, she has the most huge gooey crush on him."

"Not anymore," True said. "It was just for a little while. She kept catching him with different girls in empty hospital rooms before they left and now she doesn’t like him anymore."

"I never heard that."

"What, like she’s going to tell you?"

Devon let their chatter recede. Her instincts were shouting at her. Here it is, Devon, here it is! Against all sense, all logic, all the expectations she’d built up, but she knew she was right.

She mouthed Linsborough one more time and finally figured out why it had bothered her.

"Whereya goin’, Mom?" Uly asked.

John, back with the drinks, looked at her oddly as she got up, scrambling for her gear. "What is it?"

"I know who it is," she told him. "I don’t know how I missed it. It’s there. Right in the name. Linsborough," she repeated, breaking the first and second syllables apart and eliding the second and third.

"Lynn’s bro," John echoed. "Shit."

"It wasn’t a Council operative at all. Ryan himself created the sign-in so he could keep up with what was happening with his sister."