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I nodded and typed, focused on the screen. Mason bent over my shoulder again, doing the same.

“Fourteen left.”

“Minus you and I,” Mason said. “That’s twelve.”

“Minus Jackson, Travis, and Nicole also,” I said. “Nine.”

I turned to look at him when he placed a hand on my arm. His eyes were sad.

“I don’t think we should eliminate them, Sam.”

“If this is about your issue with Travis again—”

“It can’t hurt to peek at their files,” he said, far too reasonably.

“Fine. But it’s going to take a while to get through them all.”

Travis cleared his throat from the doorway, and I jumped, a blush crawling up my cheeks. How much had he heard?

“Did you find anyone?” Mason asked, stepping between us.

“Nicole’s working on it with Jackson. He said he knows a trick with the doors. I brought us back some weaponry so we aren’t defenseless against those things.” He strode forward, shouldering past Mason, and set a crumpled towel on the desk. When he unfolded it, six steak knives glinted in the overhead lights. “Two for each of us. These were the sturdiest I could find, since the ones we used earlier broke off in the material behind the robots’ necks.”

“There are twenty-six staff,” Mason said. “Do you think we have a shot at getting to all of them?”

Travis nodded. “We need to lure them out in groups of one or two.”

“How do we guarantee that?” Mason asked. “One mistake and that’s it. Game over.”

“We have to split up. If there are problems in different locations, they’re forced to split up as well. And they still have about half of them guarding key doors, not to mention gathering more warm bodies for the stasis chambers. If we plan ahead and move fast enough, we take them out so no one’s left to revive them.”

“Someone needs to stay and go over the personnel files. It’s down to around twelve people.” What I didn’t say was that we were all included in that number.

“You stay,” Travis said.

“No way.”

“She’s right,” said Mason. “It’s too dangerous. We’ve already been here too long. Can you upload the files to something mobile?”

I glanced at the deactivated wristcom I still wore. “It’s possible these have the capacity to be used that way. It doesn’t have holoscreen capabilities, and it’s a small screen, but I can make it work.” I popped it open with the tip of a knife and found exactly what I was looking for. “It even has a tiny port,” I added. “I can use it to transmit the information.”

Fifteen minutes later we crept out by the central Poseidon Park, armed and ready with a plan. Mason didn’t want to leave my side, but I convinced him I was a big girl who could take care of myself and it was necessary. We had our rendezvous point, and I’d reconfigured our wristcoms so they would act like walkie talkies. At least the three of us could keep connected. And if things went well and they made it to Jackson and Nicole first to fill them in, they’d be added to the loop.

It was harder than I expected to let go of Mason’s hand when it came time to separate. I tucked my petite frame behind the base of the Poseidon statue, reassuring myself that I could handle this. I was more than capable of doing my part to save the day. I would do my part to save the day.

If someone knew to look for me, they’d see me, but the carefully cropped bushes did a decent job sheltering me from view. I triple-checked my wristcom to signal me at the right moment and leaned my head back against the cool surface of the base.

I didn’t really have the luxury of time to rest, but studying the files would keep my mind off things. I got through about four when I couldn’t hold back the temptation any longer. I had to see my own file. I needed to know what it said about me.

A quick scan revealed the DSI diagnosis at the bottom with a note to monitor. No surprise there. They had every grade I’d ever received since kindergarten, every extra-curricular I’d participated or tried to participate in, every skinned knee and checkup. They had everything listed, down to the color of the outfit I wore the first day of college, the month after my mother’s original diagnosis with a comment added: Black indicates the possibility of depression. Possibility?

Anger burned behind my eyes. This was excessively detailed and creepy. It made Bennet Systems little more than an insanely wealthy, unchecked stalker. I should have known looking at my own file would upset me. I had a job to do, so I moved on to the next file.

Travis Gould popped up.

Apparently, Travis was a bit of a prodigy himself, at least he was until two years ago, when his college grades tanked in his senior year and he dropped out. His sister began dating Mason around that time, according to the records. That was also when his father was hired as interior design specialist. And when his mother was promoted to head of her department. The Bennet’s were a tad obvious about their favoritism.

Travis’s record went from perfect to disaster in a month. Fights, vandalism, and destruction of public property were listed all over the place. It only got worse after his sister broke up with Mason, and I knew why. But that begged the question—why were the Goulds invited on this trip after all that went down?