by R F Hurteau
Ollie did not answer, but he did stop. He stood there, looking around and wobbling back and forth a bit in a convincing portrayal of inebriation.
The second guard snorted with obvious disdain. “He’s drunk. Probably wandered out of his house looking for another drink.”
He addressed Ollie now. “Go home, drunkard, before we take you in to custody for ignoring the curfew.”
Ollie blinked stupidly at the guard, his brow furrowed. “Haf you seen Marta?” he said, his voice thick as he slurred the words.
Gavin looked back toward the door. The second pair of guards hadn’t moved.
Not good enough, Ollie, he thought to himself, feeling the seconds passing with painful deliberation. You’ve got to do better than that, and you’d better pick up the pace.
“I said, get yourself home. You don’t want us to escort you, trust me.”
But Ollie ignored the guard’s warning, instead turning to the second pair.
“Marta, Marta, you fools! Have you seen her? She’s ‘round here somewhere. She’s…round. You seen here? Like…this…” He gestured vaguely with his free hand, watching it move lazily through the air. “Blind fools…how could you miss her…?”
If there was one thing all Therans knew, it was to never insult the pride of the military. The slight, though insignificant and coming from the mouth of a drunk, got the attention of the second pair of guards.
“What did you call us?” one of the first guards called. “Did you just call us fools?”
“Well if you aren’t fools, then why are you having such a hard time understanding me?” Ollie retorted with cocky arrogance. “Marta!”
He cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. “Where have you gone, Marta?”
He staggered forward, and the first pair of guards moved in his direction. He seemed unfazed by their advance.
“Don’t just stand there you great oafs, spread out! She could be miles away by now, no thanks to you.”
“That’s it, you’re coming with us. You can sober up and then maybe we can give you a few lessons on respect.”
“Self-respect, too,” the other guard agreed with a nod. “Look at you. You’re a disgrace.”
“Your face is a disgrace,” Ollie said, jabbing an accusing finger in the guard’s direction. “You ought to be ashamed. MARTA!”
The pair flanked Ollie now. One of them laid a hand on the youth’s shoulder to guide him toward the building, but neither was prepared for him to act out.
Ollie gave a yelp, as if terrified. “Don’t touch me! How dare you!” He smacked the hand away. “Marta! They’re scaring me!”
“Don’t make this harder on yourself,” the guard said angrily as Ollie began flailing his arms. As both guards reached for him he bolted, making it only a short distance before they outpaced him. He threw himself to the ground, convulsing and moaning.
“Maxwell, Seymour,” one of the guards said, disgust in his voice, “get over here and help us with this imbecile.”
That was it. Gavin tensed, getting ready to sprint as the two guards moved away from the doorway, chuckling at their comrades’ misfortune.
“Can’t handle one drunk,” he heard one of them say, “how did you two ever even make it onto the guard?”
“Excuse me?” snapped one of the original pair. “I didn’t see you making an effort to take him in. Lazy, that’s what you are. Standing back, leaving the work for the rest of us.”
“Don’t lump me in with him, I didn’t say anything.”
The sounds of their bickering comforted Gavin as he slipped into the shadow of the doorway, watching Onyx as she picked the lock, her face calm despite the pressure.
Once inside she closed the door softly on the squabbling guards and Ollie’s indignant wails for justice.
Gavin scanned the surroundings. They were in a long hallway with several doors to either side. It was dark, suggesting that the factory workers were either sleeping or otherwise engaged elsewhere in the facility. They made their way stealthily, listening at every door for the telltale sounds of movement within.
Onyx and Gavin worked together in silent understanding, wending their way through a maze of corridors as they searched for their goals. His best guess was that wherever the Weaver was being held would also be where they would bring Ollie.
At least he hoped that would be the case.
Because he wanted to give the guards plenty of time to get the young man settled in and get back to their assigned post, Gavin focused first on finding Pluto. The little ship was their ticket out of here, if Gavin’s hunch was correct and it had indeed been restored to flight.
If he was wrong...well, they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.
“This place is enormous,” complained Onyx in a whisper.
“We’ll figure it out,” Gavin assured her. “At least there are signs.”
It was true. The branching halls and closed doors were all labeled. They had passed sleeping quarters, offices, and maintenance closets. Overhead signs pointed the way to the factory floor, but Gavin was not interested in seeing the ships being built. He wanted to find the research facilities, as that was where Pluto would be.
He’d considered trying to make off with one of Nero’s new ships, but had pushed the idea aside. Those would be the most heavily guarded, and they were a complete wildcard. At least he’d had the opportunity to see the inside of Pluto; there was no guarantee that the new ships would follow the same specifications.
He did not have the luxury of learning any new tricks right now.
As minutes passed, Gavin began to feel unnerved. How was it that they had not stumbled on a single guard or worker yet? It would be too great a stroke of good fortune if the entire facility were sleeping.
Where were they all?
He did not have to wait long for the answer.
He halted mid-step as Onyx froze across the hall, both of them reacting to the sound of footsteps hurrying past in an adjoining corridor. Raised voices followed.
“Hurry up, would you? I don’t want to miss it!”
“I’m less worried about missing it and more worried about being reamed for being late.”
“Seriously? The Emperor is arriving and all you care about is a little reprimanding?”
“Just shut up and go. If we hurry we might still make it!”
The voices grew quieter as the pair of workers moved further away, leaving Onyx and Gavin staring at each other from across the dark hallway.
“We’re too late,” she whispered. “Nero’s here.”
“You heard them.” Gavin ducked into the next hall and looked both ways to make certain the workers were gone. “They’re assembling for his arrival. We’ve got time.”
“Not much,” Onyx pointed out.
“It will have to be enough. Come on.”
With Nero’s arrival imminent and the halls clear, Gavin and Onyx moved about with relative ease.
Gavin was certain that most of the building would be assembling to welcome their new Emperor, but that did not preclude the possibility of guards being left behind at crucial points throughout the building.
Yet the deeper they got, the easier Gavin was able to breathe. They met no resistance, and soon split up. They would cover more ground if they worked toward two different goals; Onyx would search for the prisoners, and Gavin would find Pluto.
The research and development labs were at the far end of the building from where they had entered. Just like the halls and rooms he had already explored, these were deserted.
Finding Pluto was easy—an airship would be a hard thing to miss. The hatch stood open, beckoning him inside.
He checked over the control panel. Everything seemed to be as he remembered it. But when he moved toward the engine compartment his heart sank.
It was disassembled, the parts placed neatly around the cabin. There was no way he would be able to reassemble it, even if he weren’t working under a deadline. He felt a twinge of panic as his plan crashed
down around him.
He looked around the ship, as if perhaps he thought there might be another way to make her fly.
There was no other way.
Cursing, he disembarked, moving back toward the place where he’d told Onyx to rejoin him. She had not yet arrived, still searching for the Weaver and Ollie.
He had a sudden urge to go after her but thought better of it. If she returned while he was gone, they would only waste more time.
She arrived shortly after he did, appearing as if she’d materialized from the shadows themselves. Onyx’s face told him everything he needed to know.
“They aren’t here,” she said, the words slicing through him like a knife.
No Pluto, no Ollie, no Weaver.
“We’ll keep looking.”
He made a move to go around her, but she grabbed hold of his arm.
“No, I mean, they aren’t here. They were. But they’ve been brought out with the rest of the assembly. I saw them leaving...there were a dozen guards surrounding them, there was no way I could have...the Weaver looked bad. He couldn’t even walk...Gavin, they were dragging him.”
Gavin felt rage boiling up in his veins, coursing through him. He’d known that it was a very real possibility that the Weaver had been tortured.
But to have proof...that made it real. Now it was personal.
“What are we going to do?”
Onyx was looking to him with those shimmering green eyes, searching his face for reassurance that would not be found there.
Gavin felt the full weight of his failure as he pondered her question.
But he could not give up. He could not let them hand the Weaver back to Nero, could not let Ollie’s sacrifice be in vain.
“We’re going out the way we came, and we’re going to go welcome the Emperor.”
If his decision surprised Onyx, she didn’t let it show.
“There will still be guards at the exit,” she pointed out.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Gavin told her.
The interior of the factory passed in a blur as they made for the side entrance. As fate would have it, only two of the guards had been left behind. Their backs were turned toward the door, and Gavin made quick work of them.
Onyx put on one the cloaks from the fallen Evicti and tossed the other to Gavin. He picked up the two crossbows that the guards had been carrying and handed her one.
“You have to go,” he told her.
She scoffed. “You won’t last a minute without me.”
“I won’t last either way. But this isn’t about me doubting you, Onyx. You need to go.”
She shook her head. “We are a team. If you wish to die today, then I’m going to see you out.”
He slammed his fist into the brick wall, bits of mortar crumbling beneath the force of the blow. It stung, but he hardly registered the pain.
She gave him a cold stare, her next words calm and steady.
“I will not let you go out there alone. If the only way to stop you is to go with you, I do so willingly. You’ve saved my life in more ways than one, Gavin. I owe it to you a hundred times over. If this is how you wish to redeem that debt, so be it.”
He regarded her for a long moment, his breathing heavy with the weight.
Cyril had been right. The plan had been reckless. He’d endangered his friends for nothing, quite possibly costing Ollie his life. And that made him feel even more reckless.
He wanted to get as close as he could to killing Nero, even if it meant taking out everyone in his way. He knew he’d never make it, knew it was suicide, but he didn’t care.
But he did care about Onyx. He would not allow her to charge into her death, not for him.
He fought to steady his breathing. His mind began to clear, the haze of passion lifting to reveal reason beneath.
“Alright,” he said at last. “You win. I promise not to do anything stupid.”
She nodded, relief evident on her face. “Good.”
“But my promise comes with a condition.”
He leaned in so that his lips brushed her ear as he whispered. “I want you to run.”
He drew back, saw her confusion, saw her shaking her head.
“I can’t think of a single compelling reason to leave you here to do something rash—”
“I made you a promise. I won’t do anything to get myself killed, but you have to go. Onyx, don’t you understand? Nero’s here, the fleet is here—there isn’t much time. You have to warn Sanctuary.”
She licked her lips as she hesitated. “We’ll warn them together,” she countered, but Gavin shook his head.
“I won’t abandon the Weaver. There may still be a chance to save him. I have to stay here, do what I can. But Sanctuary does not have the luxury of time for you to wait and see what happens. You need to go now. Warn them, help them. Save them, Onyx.”
He looked her in the eyes, trying to impress upon her the urgency and sincerity of his words.
“You know that’s what Felix would want.”
This statement had the desired effect.
She looked torn, upset, defiant, but he knew that she would do the right thing. She would do what her son would have asked of her. She looked back at Gavin, tears welling in her eyes.
“You swear to stay safe?”
He gave her the faintest hint of a smile. “I swear to give it my best shot.”
Onyx looked behind her, and he imagined that she was seeing beyond the city wall; through the forest, past Solara, to where the Evenmire sat in quiet anticipation.
When she turned back to him she gave a tiny nod, swallowing hard.
“I’ll warn Sanctuary.”
Gavin nodded. “Go. There’s no time to waste.”
Onyx threw her arms around him, squeezing hard. As he returned the embrace he felt the wetness of her tears where his cheek pressed against hers.
“Save the Weaver.” Her whisper was as soft as her skin. “And then come find me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing back tears of his own. “I will.”
She broke free of his arms and turned.
Then she began to run, sprinting away from him, away from everything.
He watched her as her figure grew smaller and smaller, kept watching as she turned a corner, following her with his mind’s eye.
She would find a vehicle, beat Nero’s fleet to the Evenmire, of that he had no doubt. She would save Sanctuary.
She would hold up her end of the bargain.
Gavin only wondered if he would be able to hold up his.
***
It was not difficult to slip in among the several hundred workers and guards that had assembled in front of the factory. All eyes were focused elsewhere. He peered between the people to see for himself, already knowing what he would find there.
Nero was standing tall and proud on a large stage that seemed to have been erected just for this momentous occasion. Above him was a massive screen, a live video feed of the event. Gavin presumed it would be broadcasting throughout Thera. A spotlight illuminated the podium where Nero stood, reflecting against his vibrant gold attire.
Before the stage stood Ollie and the Weaver, each flanked by two guards. Even from this distance Gavin could see the Weaver’s downcast eyes.
Never before had he seen his mentor—his father—look so defeated. He felt rage bubble up, and he focused it.
The loaded crossbow concealed beneath his cloak, Gavin wove his way toward the stage like a wolf stocking its prey, all the while keeping his gaze locked on Nero.
Nero raised a golden scepter as he spoke, the crowd listening in rapt anticipation as his voice rang loud and clear through large speakers on either side of him.
“And with this first wave, we will decimate the humans’ defenses. We will claim a foothold in their world. My people, this is only the beginning! We will continue to build ships and, through your continued valiant efforts, we will send thousands upon thousands of clone warriors through the Evenmire to
annihilate the human plague once and for all.”
The crowd roared their approval as Nero moved to the front of the platform and gestured down at his prisoners.
“The Weaver.” Nero spat in disgust, and Gavin’s grip on the bow tightened. “This man, an enemy of Thera, has sought to poison the minds of our youth. Sow his lies and his conspiracies in the hearts of the people of our great nation. For too long our mercy has been taken for granted by this band of miscreants who call themselves Tapestry. For too long have they cowered under the misguided protection of the First Order. The time for mercy is at an end. Our patience has run dry.”
The eruption of hatred around Gavin washed over him like a wave. The people jeered, angry fists raised in the air, calling for the blood of the traitor.
“Tonight, we make history. We will cleanse the festering wound that is Tapestry like a hot iron.”
Nero raised his scepter and lifted his face to the sky.
Gavin was close. At this range he could easily put a bolt through Nero’s throat. The whole world would witness the end of Nero’s short-lived reign of terror.
Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He had promised not to do anything stupid, but the confusion after he took the shot might be enough of a distraction for him to slip back into the crowd and rescue the Weaver.
He pulled the crossbow from under his cloak. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, focused his mind and then once again fixed his sights on Nero.
The crowd was still cheering, raising their hands in exuberance, but something about the hooded man directly in front of Gavin caused him to waver.
He was standing too still.
Something wasn’t right.
Gavin scanned the faces in the crowd. Expressions of elation, frenzy, were everywhere. But a few quiet faces did not join in on the raucous behavior around them.
Several more hoods were moving discretely among the bloodthirsty assembly. The man in front of Gavin shifted, blocking his view of Nero. His hesitation had cost him a clean shot.
“And because you have put your faith in me,” Nero roared, bringing the boiling crowd back down to a simmer, “I now put my faith in you. I give the fate of this traitor into your hands. What say you?”
Gavin pushed past the hooded man toward the stage to get a better vantage point.
