The Glitch Saga- The Complete Collection

by Stephanie Flint

  Val kneels beside me. She’d probably be on my lap if there weren’t security cameras everywhere, and if she didn’t need to maintain her appearance of being one of the top four—now three, thanks to me—international council members.

  She lowers her voice. “The footage isn’t real?”

  “Lady Winters tricked three of the Coalition members into entering the room while she was briefing me. She had them under her influence.”

  “That was in the footage,” she reminds me.

  “The only part I changed is the part after Lady Winters attacked Jenna.”

  Val scoffs at Jenna’s name and murmurs something undoubtedly unpleasant in Spanish. Though she’s a Camaraderie leader, Val came from the Mexican territory, which isn’t under Community rule. “I don’t suppose she finished the job?” she mutters.

  I sigh. “Lady Winters should have captured them for questioning,” I remind her, “not tried to kill them. I…” I glance at my knees. My alibi—the blame I placed on Jenna in the footage—feels flimsy now. “I’m the one who shot Lady Winters, and I gave Jenna my tablet.”

  “Why?” Val hisses. Her hand clenches my leg.

  “The locations of the time stones are on them,” I say. “Which, if they follow the leads, should help us find them.”

  She tilts her head, puzzled. A frizz of dark hair falls over her eyes and she bats it away. “But… I don’t understand. We had the rebels right here. Why didn’t you try to capture them?”

  “Do you really think I could have bested Lance in a fight? And I was being briefed by Lady Winters. You know what that’s like. A chance to test our loyalty, not give us a bunch of simple statistics. It’s a headache. I was doing good to even consider giving the rebels some kind of lead to track them with.” I strain to remember the details so I can explain myself. The tricky part of this is remembering my plan without techno sight or enhanced intelligence to guide me. “The information would help them if they survive going after the time stones. But I suspect that each of those stones has a guardian, like the dragon spirit you fought in Japan. It appears the Maya stone they stole had a shapeshifter of some sort. The other three should also have guardians.”

  Val’s eyes widen in recognition. She defeated the dragon spirit with her electricity power, and nothing the rebels have can hurt the guardians.

  “With the locations of the stones,” I continue, “that gives us a way to track them. And there’s little chance the stones will actually work if they do get all five.”

  Aside from the guardians, the stones aren’t supposed to work unless all five stones are present. Leaking the location of a couple stones won’t give the Coalition of Freedom what they need to affect time. Part of me hopes they do work, though. Part of me still wants to see the Coalition succeed, but the other part of me knows they would destroy the Community. The Community is safe and efficient. We should change the Camaraderie rather than destroy what good the Community provides.

  “I’ll tell the commander.” Val places her forehead against mine, cradling my head between her hands. I wish I could do the same for her, but I won’t be out of the handcuffs anytime soon. “I’m sure he’ll listen to reason.”

  I try to smile, but I’m not sure the commander will. I killed his main telepath. Lady Winters was supposed to run tests on their secret project. Control it. Now there’s only Commander Rick, and he’s busy with other projects.

  Stuart steps inside the cell and bows apologetically. He inclines his head toward Val. “Our time here is short. If there is anything else you wish to say…” He lets his sentence drop when Val turns quickly.

  “Of course, thank you.” She returns her attention to me. “I’ll get you out.” She kisses my lips, drawing out a savory moment I hope I’ll have again, and then hesitantly returns to the servant’s side.

  “I love you,” I say. Val smiles, but I’m not sure how much of that smile is an act to make me feel better. My chance of being released alive—with my mind intact—is slim.

  Stuart activates the force field and the two silhouettes disappear.

  “Timothy Zaytsev?”

  I snap awake. My eyes protest the strong light. Commander Rick stands before me in his usual tan uniform, his white hair and mustache groomed for perfection. A tall, lanky beast follows behind him, her pale hand outstretched. She’s one of the fair ones—more human in appearance than the others. She’s tall and thin, with pointed ears and golden eyes, and a face just a bit too sharp to be natural. She wears a shimmery black tunic, tied at the waist by a red sash—one of the commander’s favorite beasts. Without her moving, a chair hovers in front of her and sits telekinetically behind Commander Rick. The beast shifts her cat-like gaze between me and the commander. “Thank you,” he says, and she slinks away.

  I shiver. I still haven’t acclimated to the beasts being up close and personal as tools, not as monsters trying to murder me. They used to be human. Now they’re little more than slaves or pets.

  Commander Rick pulls the chair forward and clasps his hands on his knee, one leg over the other. I didn’t expect him to be so… casual… given the circumstance.

  “I reviewed the footage from earlier,” he says, his voice tinged with a British Community accent, “and I have spoken with Lady Salazar. Now I would like to hear your version of the events.”

  There’s no use lying to him. He’ll read my mind at the same time I answer. Asking me aloud is both a courtesy and a way to make me think about what he wants to see. So I tell him everything. Once I’m finished, he twists the corner of his bushy white mustache.

  “Why did you kill Lady Winters?”

  “She was manipulative.” My voice shakes. “She only wanted power. She acted for her own gain, not for the Community. Her methods were inefficient. She should have captured the rebels and discovered the Coalition’s location. Instead she killed one of them, then proceeded to torture another.”

  Commander Rick frowns. “The latter being Miss Nickleson.”

  “Yes. Lady Winters took pleasure in harming others, regardless of whether or not her tactics produced information. There were plenty of times she attacked a prisoner slated for beast transformation long after they were deemed unimportant.”

  I worked under her guidance. I’d seen the results of her “evaluations” of prisoners slated for use in the Legion Spore. They had screamed, begging for her to end their existence. They had huddled in their cells, eyes glazed and anguished. They had suffered endlessly at her mental torture… all of it unnecessary. Even Val, a new COE council member, had returned to her room, exhausted from Lady Winters’ meetings. Commander Rick will see everything, if he looks.

  The commander strokes the curt beard on his chin. “Go on.”

  “I was tired of dealing with her. She went too far. She wasn’t efficient. She didn’t make the Community safe and she cared little for the security of others.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “So you killed her?”

  “The Community will be better off without her,” I say carefully, but I wilt under his scrutiny. “Someone who actually cares can replace her. Someone whose methods and procedures are efficient, who doesn’t threaten the safety of the Community’s citizens. Someone—”

  “Like you?”

  “What?” I stare at him, dumbfounded. He’s got it wrong. I had no intention of replacing her.

  The commander chuckles. The skin at the edge of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “Timothy, during your time with us, I have examined your progress in streamlining EYEnet. Do you understand how much more efficient you’ve made it? How much faster we’ve been able to identify rebels with your new security system? We’ve almost got a location on Abram Biryukov, Felipe Cortez, Lauren Dubois, and Nickolai Nickleson. Your work has put us months ahead of our projected schedule.” He slaps his knee. “To top it off, you’ve done quite the personal favor to everyone who has ever dealt with a certain old nuisance.”

  My mouth hangs open. He just called Lady Winters a nuisance? Him? The comm
ander?

  “Let me tell you something, m’boy. The creation of the CLS Legion Spore was a success. The project has its kinks, but it is ready for field testing. Your programming worked wonders.” He pauses. “Timothy, I ask you this only because I am serious. Would you be interested in taking Lady Winters’ place in the Camaraderie of Evil?”

  My heart stops. I can’t breathe. He’s offering me a place at his side. This is the highest honor I can dream of. This can’t be real. This must be a dream.

  Alternatively, this could be a nightmare.

  My chest constricts sharply, punching out any hope. Perhaps Lady Winters is testing my loyalty and I’m in for the worst memory of my life.

  I lean forward on the bench, breathless. I was so sure I had killed her…

  “Yes,” I whisper. My voice catches in my throat, urgent, as if he’ll retract his words. This is my chance to be with Val. Not just in the same base, but at her side as an equal.

  The commander raises his chin. “Very good. I shall bring the proposition before the remaining council members.” He stands and reaches behind my back. The cuffs snap loose. “You are free to return to your room. Have a good evening. I expect you to meet me outside the hub in two hours. There are further matters we must attend to. With all due luck, you will make an excellent leader.” He turns on his heel and strides out the door.

  Did he—

  Community…

  I might actually be a council member! I rub my wrists, then laugh, unable to contain my amazement. The Camaraderie controls over half of the globe. Russia, Europe, North America, South America…

  With luck, I’m going to be one of the four rulers of the world.

  I nervously shift on my feet next to the door of the hub. Without my powers, the sterile white halls of the facility are eerily similar, devoid of the technological circuits I use to keep track of this place.

  “Ah, good. You’re here.” The commander approaches me with his hands tucked against his back. Per usual, he sports crisp tan breeches and a matching jacket that is adorned with pouches and numerous medals. I suspect the decoration is for my benefit, a reminder that he earned his position by commanding the Camaraderie’s armies on the front line. Though we’re in friendly territory, he carries his pistol at his side, and that is not decoration.

  Commander Rick tips his safari hat to me—a leader’s oddity. Every leader has them. It helps them stand out. Val with her sparkly armor, Lady Black with her form-fitting black suit and bullwhip, and Lady Winters with her awful purple and gold robes.

  The commander chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll find your own oddities if we elect you into the Camaraderie,” he says.

  I blink. I’ve been working here two months now and I’ve known about powers for three, but his reacting to my thoughts still surprises me.

  Commander Rick nods. “As powers will continue to surprise you, Timothy. There is a lot to learn.” He keys in the code for the hub station. The door hisses as it slides open. “After you.”

  The room inside is cold, meant to keep dozens of computers running smoothly. Blue lights give the room a foreboding sense of efficiency. At the center of the room is a circle of metal chairs around a wire column, each chair holding a human or beast upright. Their heads are tied against a stiff headboard. Red and blue wires run from the caps on their skulls into the column behind them.

  In some ways, I’m glad I don’t currently have my powers. The hub has a single, unanimous mind comprised of a cold, hard artificial intelligence, the minds of its occupants ruled entirely by computer. The benefit of having them together is the ability to control their powers as a single unit. Teleportation and portals for instantaneous travel. Telepathy for communication. Life-spirit to maintain the health of the base’s staff. Techno sight to monitor the networks. If not for Val standing up for me, I could’ve ended up like the pale, near-naked bodies in the hub, rather than a candidate for leadership.

  “Indeed,” Commander Rick murmurs in response to my thoughts. “As a leader, you would learn to work with hubs as their master, rather than as a simple technician.”

  “Sir?” I tilt my head, confused.

  He gestures to the room around us, with all the gadgets and screens and information feeding through it. “A technician merely manages the hub and keeps it running. What we need is someone who can do more, someone who can rise above the others and command a hub, guide it with a firm hand, and make it stronger. Can you do that?”

  I stare at him, blank. “I… I can try.”

  He narrows his eyes. “I need you to do more than try, Timothy, if you get this position.”

  I swallow hard. Working with hubs is… unnerving, to say the least. I steal a glance at the bodies around the wire column. Unnerving, but doable. About anything would be doable after working with Lady Winters.

  “That’s what I want to hear, m’boy.” The commander’s lips twitch in approval. Take us to my quarters, Commander Rick instructs the hub telepathically.

  A swirling, purple shadow forms in front of us, a two-meter tall, opaque portal. The commander steps through and disappears on the other side. I hurry after him.

  On the other side of the portal, I let my eyes adjust to the yellow, flickering lamplight. Community… I’ve never been in the commander’s quarters before, and I’m pretty sure this is just the office. Tall bookshelves line the wall with rows and rows of thick books on military strategy. Some of the books sport ragged cloth covers and gilded embossing, older than the ones that belonged to the rebels’ historian. But where the historian had models of stealth planes, Commander Rick has dozens of taxidermy statues mounted against cream-colored wallpaper: a gazelle with polished, ribbed horns, a boar with incredibly detailed glass eyes, and a stuffed lynx crouching atop the bookshelf behind the commander’s desk. Long, ivory tusks hang over a bronze globe. The globe has been carefully painted to reflect the Camaraderie’s rule versus the territory the Oriental Alliance still holds. The whole side wall is covered in mounts that surround an oil painting of the commander, where he stands with a double-barreled rifle on his shoulder and a lion’s carcass across the back of his jeep. A heavyweight beast waits behind him as protection, brass knuckles across its thick hands. Though the picture may be exaggerated, I have little doubt that the event happened.

  “No exaggeration, m’boy. Took me days to kill the brute without using my powers.”

  I blink. I hadn’t even realized he was reading my mind.

  The commander takes a seat in an oversized leather chair, which seems grander due to the sheer size of the massive oak desk in front of him. The polished desk gleams in the flickering oil light. I have no idea if the lamps are designed to look real or if they hold an actual flame, but I feel like I’ve stepped back in time. This sort of setup hasn’t been in fashion for almost two hundred years.

  Commander Rick retrieves a small, mahogany box from his desk, then fills a pipe with tobacco. He strikes a match and lights it, giving him the picture-perfect look of a satisfied general from some old safari show that the rebels watched.

  It’s just…

  Why not a lighter?

  Commander Rick lets out a burst of hearty laughter and relaxes in the blush-stained chair. “Some things are worth taking the time to enjoy,” he notes. “A pipe, for instance.” The pipe is carved with designs of his favorite beasts. The tobacco glows coal-red before he releases a ring of smoke from his lips, which catches in his beard as it drifts. He glances at me, the skin crinkling around his eyes. “Have a seat.”

  I take the shorter chair, no less extravagant, across from him. This place is different from the Community. There, everything is based around efficiency, safety, and security. I’d never heard of tobacco, save that it has addictive properties. Taxidermy was saved for ecology museums, since all our food was farm grown for the most effective production possible. As for oil and gaslight, we used LEDs. Before that, we had the curly-cue efficiency bulbs, like the metal charm I wear around my neck. I rub it between my finge
rs and absently stroke the edge of the chair.

  It’s hard to believe I ended up here. This is the life of a leader, not a Community citizen. Not someone who only hoped to pass his tests and become a computer programmer. Not that I have any qualms with taking a better position; I just didn’t expect this.

  “I appreciate your ambition,” Commander Rick says, watching me. “So does she.” He gestures his pipe to my hand. I pause. I’ve stopped stroking the polished arm of the chair, instead stroking something with short fur and the hardness of a skull. A leopard growls and butts her head against my hand.

  I thrust myself to the other side of the chair before I can stop myself.

  The commander roars with laughter. “I’ve got to bring visitors here more often. Come, Cynthia. Stop scaring our guest.”

  The leopard purrs a dissatisfied growl, then morphs, shrinking as her tawny fur changes from black spots to an array of bright emerald and ruby feathers. The large feline takes to the air as a parrot, swoops around the taxidermy mounts, and then lands on the commander’s shoulder.

  I gape at her, trying to calm my too-fast heart. She’s a shapeshifting beastie.

  Commander Rick offers her a bit of fruit from a glazed bowl on his desk before returning his attention to me. “Let us discuss your potential promotion.”

  I nod quickly, not trusting myself to speak. Though Lady Winters kept beasts around for security, she preferred people. People she could control. Beasts she could not.

  Especially beasts that could shapeshift into leopards.

  “While I have heard about your endeavors from Lady Salazar and Lady Winters,” Commander Rick continues, “I would like to hear your version of events. You were training to be a programmer at the University of St. Petersburg in Russia, correct?”

  That was the original plan, before I discovered I had powers. “My qualifications test showed computer technology to be my strong point, so that’s the field I majored in,” I tell him.