by T. C. Edge
“Why me?” I ask. “If you’re...who you say you are…then why didn’t you kill him? Why am I here at all?”
“Because you’re expendable,” comes his swift reply.
I’m slightly taken aback, my pride hurt. But after a moment I know he’s right. I am expendable. He’s not.
My failure has put the Nameless on the back foot, but it hasn’t yet doomed them. Were Burns to attempt to kill Cromwell himself, however, and his treachery be discovered, then they’d have no one on the inside. No one of his considerable power and ability to try to fashion a new path.
In the end, he’s completely right. My life means very little in the grand scheme of things. But his means everything. And it needs to be protected.
I’m not so naïve to not realise that. To not see that I am just a soldier, and he’s a leader. That getting him onto the throne of this building, of this city, of this world, is what will make real change.
But now that I’ve failed, perhaps that option is done for. Even in his new position as Commander, I doubt that Burns can take out Cromwell without anyone uncovering the truth.
So when he tells me I’m expendable, I merely nod and understand. And as those thoughts flow about in my mind, he reads them for himself, satisfied that I’m able to see the bigger picture.
“Good, Brie,” he whispers. “Very good.”
It’s still all so confusing, but yet that hope that had faded now begins to bloom.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?” I ask. “Cromwell I mean. You didn’t tell him about the secret passage to the underlands?”
He shakes his head.
“So they’re safe,” I ask, my hammering heart filling with a new determination to live.
“For now. But Artemis won’t rest until he’s rid this city of all who’ll stand in his way. His beliefs, his programming, make him rigid and immovable. He can’t be bargained with or swayed. Until he’s gone, no one is safe.”
“Then what do we do? How do we kill him?”
He shakes his head.
“There’s no we,” he whispers. “Your role here is over.”
“But I can still do it,” I say, my words just starting to lift. His glare stifles them, calms them. “I can,” I continue, barely audible now, “with your help. Use your powers…get me alone with him…and I’ll do it. I swear I will.”
He stands up, his head still turning left and right and denying me.
But why? Why not?! I shout in my head, staring right at him.
Because, he answers in my mind, it will all come back to me in the end. You had your chance, Brie, but now it’s gone. Your part is done.
He moves to the door, and then turns to me before leaving.
And through his bright blue eyes, he projects some final words for me to hear.
Don’t lose faith, Brie, he says. I’ll get you out of here, I promise. Your part here is over, but there’s more to be done out there…
He turns his eyes to the clear wall, and mine follow out towards the northern quarter of the city. And when I turn back to look at him, to force him to read another question in my mind, all I see is the door closing.
And the tail of his white jacket flowing out into the corridor.
119
I’m left with so many questions that I have no means of answering. More than ever I wish that my powers would return and I could speak with my brother, learn the truth of all of this mess, all of these secrets that have been kept from me.
I always wondered just who it was that the Nameless had in mind, who the mystery replacement for Cromwell was going to be. Not once did Leyton Burns enter my thoughts as an option, so complicit in the plot as he seemed to be.
It was him, after all, who first made mention of the Stalkers back during the ceremony to honour us after the attack at Culture Corner. When the Nameless took over the video feed, he’d told that technician to ‘send out the Stalkers’, sending the hybrid hunters out to do what they do best.
I saw him, too, after the attack in the marketplace, the attack that saw Fred and Ziggy lose their lives, and Rycard lose his right eye and handsome looks. The attack that led to Drum’s terrible crime, and his new life down with the Nameless in the underlands.
It was that very breakout, in fact, that led the Woolf to my door, the freeing of Drum from that prisoner convoy sending all of this in motion. Had we not done that, then Woolf may never have seen this coming, and Cromwell would now be dead, and Burns would be stepping up to the Director’s chair, ready to draw back the awful doctrine that will inevitably lead to war.
I wonder how much involvement Burns really had in it all. In the end, perhaps it’s his own fault that Woolf came after me. Had that attack never occurred, then Fred and Ziggy wouldn’t have died, and Drum wouldn’t have killed that man, and Zander and I would never have had to free him.
Maybe Burns himself is to blame for the failure of this entire mission.
But then again, surely he can’t have been complicit in such an atrocity. Surely a man like Cromwell would have selected the next target. Perhaps Burns never even knew about it, or at least didn’t know just when and where the attack would come. If he did, and yet he allowed his own men, his own City Guards, to be killed in the blast, then perhaps he’s no better than the man I was sent here to kill…
I won’t get the answer to that question until I next see him. And even then, who knows if he’ll be honest. My gut suggests that he remains mostly innocent, aware of the locations of the attacks but unable to influence them for fear of revealing himself to his superiors.
I guess, like so many of us, he merely needed to keep up appearances.
For the greater good…
That seems to be the way of the world. People do terrible things in order to achieve positive ends. And, I suppose, I can’t blame Burns, or anyone else, for that. After all, I’m guilty of exactly the same.
The name W. Malcolm once more springs to mind, the poor soul I swapped my vial of blood with. I knew just what I was doing when I manipulated Doctor Friel into performing the swap. I knew it would mean death, or worse, for them, a fate that should have been mine.
In the end, I suppose it wasn’t worth it. Woolf knew about me all along, haunting my step, luring me up here to fall straight into Cromwell’s trap. All changing that vial got me was an extra couple of days of belief and hope that my mission would succeed.
It hasn’t. And W. Malcolm has probably died for it.
And yet, here I am, now being offered the chance of redemption. A chance to escape this place and continue the fight down below. I relish the idea, relish getting a weapon in my hand and facing my enemy head on.
Not creeping around here in the High Tower, all dressed up in blue, surrounded by these dead-eyed, detached, swarm of drones.
I want to taste fresh air again, suck in the smells of Outer Haven and the underlands, feel the embrace of my friends and family. And if what Commander Burns promised me is true, I might just get that chance after all.
I just have to hope that whatever means of escape he devises works. He’ll have to do it without revealing himself, or incriminating himself in any way. After all, as he so rightly told me, I am expendable, and he is not.
But, sitting there as the day passes by and another night falls, I wonder about Adryan. Will he be joining me? Does Burns’ desire to see me out of here trickle down to him as well?
Somehow, given what Lady Orlando said, I doubt it. He is loyal to this cause, and has done a great deal for it, but his worth was necessitated on secrecy, on his ability to operate in the shadows as a spy here in the High Tower. And, above all, as a simple facilitator for my part in the mission.
Now, none of that applies. Were he to escape to the underlands, and join up with the Nameless, he’d be of no more use than any other regular person. He has no specific physical enhancements beyond his superior intellect. He isn’t a scientist, or an engineer, or someone who might offer some tactical cunning in the war to come.
&nb
sp; No. He is just a man whose worth has been expended. And as Lady Orlando made very clear, he is now superfluous to their cause.
But not me, I suppose. Not to the same degree. I have a number of powers that might prove useful in battle. Superior eyesight and speed that will present me with an advantage, and the ability to manipulate the weak-minded with little more than a thought and a flash of the eyes.
And I, too, have a twin brother down there who, I hope, won’t rest until I’m freed. Who will be desperately seeking to save me from this terrible place.
I am, it pains me to say, more useful than Adryan. And so, I will live, and he will die.
That is how it goes.
But not for me.
“If they won’t save you, I will,” I whisper, turning my eyes to the door, imagining that my husband’s being kept somewhere beyond it, on the other side of the building. “I won’t let you die, Adryan. I promise.”
I make the silent vow to myself, and then allow the depths of night to take me. Let myself fall into uncomfortable dreams as the lingering hours pass by.
I wake constantly, my eyes flashing open to find that I’m breathing heavily, beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. I want to wipe them away as they tickle along the side of my nose, but can’t, my hands once more locked tight to the arms of the chair.
I drift away again, and the same happens, over and over until the first signs of light start to gather against the horizon. Exhausted and with aching limbs, I meet the dawn with my gaze and allow myself the smallest of smiles as I marvel at its beauty.
Even in such a place, and at such a time, small moments can give you some relief. The sight before me is mesmerising, the scope of the sunrise staggering as it lifts and gives shape to the lands.
It all starts back on the mountains, the peaks first to catch the light long before the base, where the deep valleys, all sprinkled with woods and tinged in toxic mist, stay hidden in shadow. Then, gradually, the light creeps down, bringing more of the world to life, sending more of its stunning beauty to my regular, human eyes.
For a second, I wish I had my Hawk-vision, wish I could zoom here and there and explore the place from this lofty perch. But then I realise that I don’t need augmented eyes to appreciate this, to admire the sheer wonder of it all. I don’t need anything more than what nature intended, my natural form sufficient to gawp at the colours and lights and wondrous features.
In the end, being human is what I am. I am not defined by my ability to see far, or run fast, or turn a man to my will. Those are all unnatural embellishments that should never have been granted me.
No. I am just me, Brie Melrose, a girl of 18 who just wants to wander and explore. Who wants to see some more of the world and live in peace. Who wants to fall in love, and have a family one day, and laugh with my friends.
A simple girl, with simple desires, who has been drawn into a far-from-simple war.
120
Before the sun has fully risen, I hear the tapping of two sets of footsteps coming down the corridor. Their cadence makes it clear who they both are. The fact that they’re the only two who appear to have access to my cell is another strong indicator.
It’s Cromwell who enters first, with Burns flowing in behind. I look upon the men so differently now. Even after having spent so many hours trying to get my head around it, I find it difficult to see Burns as my ally.
But he is, and so I do look at him with a different eye. An eye of secret cooperation. An eye of conspiracy.
And as I look at him, I see him direct some stern words of warning straight into my head.
Don’t look at me like that, Brie. Look at Cromwell.
The words come from nowhere, and throw me off my stride. I immediately react with a slight jerk, before dropping my eyes to neither man, and instead choosing my lap as my current focal point.
My odd behaviour doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by the head of the Consortium.
“It looks as though this cell is taking its toll on you, Brie,” comes his voice. “Well, I wouldn’t worry so much about that. You won’t be here for too much longer.”
Yeah, I’ll be taken to the REEF…I’m well aware of that already, Cromwell.
Of course, perhaps Commander Burns wasn’t supposed to inform me of that. So, I act smart, and play dumb.
“Where are you taking me,” I ask, letting my words quiver.
I lift my eyes fearfully from my lap, peering through my lashes at him.
“You’re to be taken for reconditioning,” says Cromwell matter-of-factly. “Commander Burns has extracted what he can from you. Now, you’ll serve another purpose.”
Were I not already aware of this, I might just react as I did yesterday, with all manner of hysterics. As it is, I’ve heard this before.
However, a quick flash to Burns’ eyes allows him to once more project a few stern words into my head.
Don’t take it so lightly, Brie. Be natural, comes his voice.
With an ironically unnatural delay, I begin to offer some pleas against Cromwell’s plans for me.
“No…you can’t. Please…” I mutter.
My acting skills need further polishing, but it’s good enough. After all, this is Artemis Cromwell we’re talking about here. Hardly an expert in determining whether human emotion is real or feigned.
Then again, I’m not sure I’d ever know if he bought it or not, given how he doesn’t really react.
“You have plotted to commit treason against your rulers, and have made an attempt on my life. The punishment for that would ordinarily be torture and death, as your husband will soon discover…”
My heart skips a few beats. Terrible visions of Adryan being strung up and mutilated spread through my head.
“However,” continues Cromwell. “You have attributes that might prove useful to me. So, you will join our cause. I did say, did I not, that you might one day agree with my doctrines? Well, once my technicians at the REEF have seen to you, you’ll agree with just about anything I wish. I shall look forward to welcoming you to the team.”
A slimy smile oozes across his face, as if he wishes to make me feel particularly uncomfortable. I don’t give him the satisfaction, but merely stare at him with the same dead eyes he employs.
“You have spirit,” he says, inspecting my burning glare. “It will serve us well. Now, Commander Burns here is going to complete his work and perform one final extraction. Tomorrow, you shall be taken to the REEF. Alas, you will be one of many to join my ranks.”
His eyes wash over the city and then return to me.
“Many thousands have already begun to sign up willingly to my offer of reconditioning. You see, Brie, the people are only too happy to cast away their emotions. They consider them as a weakness, just as I do.”
I can’t help but bite. I just can’t listen to this crap.
“You think you’re so smart don’t you,” I growl. “You’ve made them like this. You’ve made them too frightened to leave their homes. Of course they’re going to sign up to have their fears suppressed! They just don’t know you’ll be wiping the rest of them clean too!”
“Oh, how wrong you are,” drips his voice. “They know just what they’re getting themselves into. These people…they long for subjugation really. They long to be led. Without me, without us, the whole of Outer Haven would have descended into chaos long ago. You people love nothing more than to destroy each other. My new world won’t be anything like that. It will be peaceful and ordered. How can you deny the attraction of such a thing?”
I can see no point in arguing with him. As Burns told me, he will never change his mind on this, he will never be swayed. His own programming and conditioning have made him steadfast in his beliefs, and no matter what I say, the man won’t turn.
And neither will I.
So instead of answering, I just stare into his translucent blue eyes for a moment with a fire in my own, before turning away and back out of the window.
Cromwell follows my gaze, a
nd continues the conversation alone.
“You will deny it to your death, but I know you understand my reasoning, Brie. You are far too intelligent to refute the value in what I’m doing. Yes, you have strong emotions, that much is clear. But you also have a keen sense of logic too, and your rational side understands just what we’re doing here.”
My lack of response seems to be evidence that I subscribe to his directives. Oh how wrong he is.
Shaking my head, I simply whisper calmly: “No, Director Cromwell. I will never agree to what you’re doing. And shaping me to your own design won’t change that. No rational human, no real human, could ever condone this madness.”
A flicker of appreciation dances in his eyes. He, at least, seems to respect me for sticking to my beliefs.
“Well, we’ll speak again soon. And then we’ll see what tune you’re singing,” he purrs.
Swivelling on his pure white shoes, he turns once more to the door, gliding through it and leaving me in the mutinous hands of Commander Burns. For a few moments, no words are said, and Burns merely looks at the door in silence before, finally, turning to me.
“Is that really true?” I ask him quietly. “What he said about the people signing up for reconditioning?”
He looks to the window and back to me.
“Yes, it’s true.”
“And the water stores? What’s happening with that? Are the people getting emergency aid?”
There’s a frown cast across his eyes as he nods.
“Some aid is being offered,” he suggests.
“But not enough to stop the people from panicking, right? Not enough to stop them tearing each other apart? Is that his plan…to take them right to the edge, and see just where their emotions lead them? It will be anarchy out there, Commander. Is it all just to prove a point?”
“Perhaps, in part,” he admits. “The lack of clean water will lead to many signing up. Artemis’ directive states that aid will be prioritised to those who comply…”
“Comply?” cuts my voice, slicing through his like a razorblade. “You mean, you get help if you’re willing to become a slave?”
