by T. C. Edge
I stop him outside the door.
“And we’re sure Burns has been found out? I mean, if it was Woolf who let Cromwell know about our plans, maybe Burns is still, you know, undercover.”
“It’s possible,” he concedes. “But regardless, we can’t get through to him now, and so can’t rely on him either.”
He steps straight through the door without knocking. I barely get a chance to blink before being forced to follow him in, my eyes taking in the basic and rather unstimulating space before me.
True to form for all Savants, the room is uncluttered, uncomplicated, and coloured chrome. I would say that Lady Orlando would feel right at home here, but knowing her as I now do, suspect she’d like the odd splash of colour here and there, as with her quarters at the church.
She sits behind a desk, and my mind turns immediately and instinctively to Mrs Carmichael. It often does around her, given her unexpected penchant for whiskey, and her general age and demeanour, which is similar to my guardian, despite their very different backgrounds.
Today, though, it’s the circumstance that has Brenda Carmichael surging into my mind. The room may be larger than her office at the academy, but the general arrangement is similar, with a desk right ahead and the Lady sitting behind.
And as always happens when I think of her, I think of the others as well. And now, all I want to do is go and find out how they are, and then bring them right here to safety.
As Lady Orlando welcomes me in, my old life is all over my mind. I barely hear her first few words, such is my distraction.
“Brie…Brie…” She needs to speak my name several times before she fully gathers my attention.
“Um, yes, Lady Orlando,” I finally manage, slipping out of my mind and back into the room.
She stares, analysing me. She’s good at it, strangely so for a Savant.
“You asked me yesterday if you could go into the city and take care of your friends,” she says, as if reading my mind. “I urged patience, but now I permit it…”
Her words hang for a moment. I wonder if I’m still back in my thoughts, daydreaming this.
“You…you will?” I ask, surprised.
She dips her head.
“We are well protected here right now, and it’s important that we show a united front. The inhabitants of Inner Haven will no doubt take some time to come to terms with what has happened here. That is natural, and something that will affect us all in some manner or another. However, we have done all of this in order to bring the city together, and that starts immediately.”
As she speaks, the door opens up behind me. I turn and see Kira entering, searching the interior as I did.
“You wanted to see me, Lady Orlando?” she asks, her gaze turning to the desk.
“Yes, yes, come in, Kira.”
She walks to the side of me, similar in size and shape, albeit a little sleeker and more athletic.
“I was just telling Brie of the united front we have to put on. She has friends, mostly young boys and girls, at her academy not too far from the western gate. Your scouts are reporting that the streets in the area are clear, is that correct?”
“Yes, my Lady,” says Kira. “There’s been little movement in the inner districts of the western quarter. Most of the fighting has settled there…”
“Good. Then you will accompany Brie to her academy and bring back her friends. It will help to show Inner Haven that we are here for the purposes of good and, unlike Artemis, do not discriminate. I am sanctioning similar trips for some of our other members. At times like this, we will all operate with more efficiency if those we care about are safe. Brie, I know full well how much you worry about your friends. Now, go fetch them…”
I’m welling up, and feel stupid. Blinking furiously to stop from embarrassing myself, I merely nod and firm my voice.
“Yes, I will, Lady Orlando,” I croak.
She smiles at me with thin lips well versed in performing the expression, and sends us from the room.
And when I turn, my own smile bursts, and joins the thudding of my heart.
Finally, I get to save my friends…
177
The first question that wanders quickly into my mind is whether Zander’s coming too. As I move down the corridor, accompanied by Kira, I turn and see that he hasn’t followed, and continues to speak with Lady Orlando in her new office.
“What’s up?” asks Kira.
“Oh…just…”
“You thought big bro was tagging along?”
“Well, yeah. And we’re twins, he’s not my big bro.”
“He’s physically bigger than you, Brie. Makes him big bro in my book.”
She grabs ahold of my arm and begins moving me on down the corridor.
“Come on, us girls don’t need any help, we get things done on our own, right?”
We step into the lift and the doors slide shut.
“Yeah, of course,” I say, probably less enthusiastically than Kira might. Then the second question rumbles to mind. “So, how are we getting there?”
“Van,” she tells me. “Our tech guys have been working all night, reprogramming the cars around here and setting them to manual drive, as well as removing the speeding limiters.”
“Good idea,” I say, thinking back to the excruciatingly slow top speed the self-drive cars are permitted to travel at along these streets. “So, you can drive, right?”
“Sure,” she says, grinning. “Nothing to it.”
The lift pings open, and we step back into the bustling foyer. Rather than heading out of the front entrance, we move to the rear, through a couple of security doors that give passage to a stock room for weapons, uniforms, and tactical armour.
In part of the room, some of our own stocks have been accumulated. Mostly, however, it’s the uniforms worn by the City Guard, as well as the weaponry they use, that fills the space.
“Right, let’s get suited up,” says Kira. “If we’re crossing that wall, we’d best look the part.”
The next few minutes have us searching for suitably sized City Guard outfits in a bid, should we be discovered, to blend in. Then we add armour, and fit our bodies with enough guns and ammo to disable a small army. It feels good to get into some clean clothes, even if we have to strip off in front of the lingering eyes of the two men currently doing an inventory.
Their stares sweep over the both of us as we undress to our underwear – right now, privacy is hardly anyone’s concern - but quickly disappear with a quick glare of Kira’s sleek emerald eyes. She looks at me and smiles, and my own gaze drifts over her pale but tightly honed frame.
I’m immediately envious of the apparent firmness of her midsection, one developed through years of operations out in the field. It’s not an aesthetic jealousy – well, not really – but more the fact that such a body is an immediate indicator of her level of fitness and durability.
As I’ve discovered, in order to fully utilise ones Dasher powers, you need to be as fit as a fiddle. My fitness, I’d say, is passable at best, and while improving, I’m still unable to maintain my powers for anywhere nearly as long as Zander or Kira might.
My covetous glance, however, is brief, and I quickly return to dressing.
Once done, it’s not back out, but down we go. A set of stairs leads us into the basement, where an underground garage is situated along with whatever vehicles remain here at City Guard HQ.
Thankfully - and this is certainly something that Kira was already aware of - there’s a decent sized van that can probably fit in at least two dozen people. And if we’re talking kids, then you could likely squeeze in a fair few more.
By the van, a technician works. I’m surprised to find that he’s wearing light grey. Then I notice that a couple of others are as well, working in tandem with a few of our own men.
“You’ve got Savants working here?” I ask. “Where did you get them?”
“Rounded them up overnight,” says Kira. “These guys were some of the few wh
o weren’t in the High Tower. There are files in the building that list all current workers’ addresses. Didn’t take long to get them back down here to work…”
“And they came willingly?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“What else were they gonna do? And you know Savants better than most. They’re like sheep to a shepherd, right? They don’t really think for themselves. And Lady Orlando’s calling the shots now.”
It only takes a moment for me to realise that it’s not surprising at all. In my experience, I’ve discovered Savants to be little more than robots, mechanically getting on with whatever task is given to them. In fact, I doubt they even care at all that the High Tower was destroyed, not unless they’re down towards Adryan’s end of the emotional spectrum.
We approach the man, dressed in his light grey outfit that isn’t quite like the suits Adryan used to wear, as well as most others I saw in the High Tower. Given his work, his outfit is more functional and easy to manoeuvre in, similar to overalls but a little smarter.
“Is it all reprogrammed?” asks Kira.
The man nods.
“Yes,” comes his dry voice. “The front has been altered to spec. There are pedals for accelerating and braking. Its top speed is now…”
“Yes, yes, we get the picture,” breaks in Kira. “Good job, my man.”
She wanders straight past and steps behind the wheel. I go down the other side and take the passenger seat. For a moment, she just gazes at the dashboard in confusion.
“Erm, do you know how to start this thing up?” she asks me.
My experience of these vehicles is limited, although in the past they’ve always been activated by way of voice command.
“Ignition,” I say, loud and clear.
The van begins to rumble, it’s engine smoothly coming to life.
“Nice one,” smiles Kira, before placing her hands to the wheel, stamping her foot onto the accelerator, and swerving the van off towards the exit at a speed that’s really not safe down here.
“You sure you know how to drive!” I call as the van rumbles off through a short, inclining tunnel, echoing as it shoots straight for the main exit.
Kira merely smiles with a wickedness that suggests she’s rather enjoying herself, and the van whips straight up and out onto the street at the rear of the building.
We come skidding and sliding to a halt at the top, narrowly avoiding a couple of our passing men who have to dart to get out of the way.
“Whoops, sorry!” shouts Kira as they throw up their hands and bellow in our direction. They seem to see that it’s her through the window, shake their heads, and get on with their day.
She must have a reputation as something of a wildcat.
With a little more care, she sets her foot back to the pedal and we press on, working our way west along streets that I’ve come to know fairly well. Always so ordered and neat, they remain much the same, the paths of Inner Haven, barring the extreme core, yet to properly get embroiled in the war that ravages the rest of the city.
However, our presence is already being felt. As we go, patrols of our own people can still be seen working their way from building to building, checking for any hidden enemies within. Security cordons are also being set up at major intersections, with sentries and spies posted in various spots to watch out for any possible danger.
I imagine that the patrols are also being sent out to try to assuage fears, bringing our message of peace to the population at large. Really, all of this is a double-edged effort with the purpose of both occupying the city, and making sure the people are aware that we are, in fact, a peacekeeping and liberation force, and not some invading army.
The sooner we can convince the people of that, the better off we’ll be. The last thing we need is Cromwell riding back in here along with his band of not-so-merry men, returning like some hero to take back the city he commanded for so long.
Who knows who’ll flock to his cause should that come to pass. I mean, the man’s a genius at manipulating the masses and spreading his propaganda. He’s had the entire city in the palm of his hand for years, and if we’re not careful he might just swing things back in his favour and proclaim us the ‘bad guys’.
It maddens me to think that that could be the case. It maddens me that the man himself isn’t part of the human mortar in the gigantic pile of rubble outside the City Guard HQ. It maddens me that this man might, due in part to our actions, be seen by some as a saviour, and not the oppressor that he really is.
So our mission is clear: bring the city together. Show them who and what we really are. Present an alternative to the stratified society that Cromwell and the Consortium developed.
It starts right now.
So on we go, passing quickly towards the western gate, now controlled by our own men. Once, it was merely Magnus who would guard it, the passage into Inner Haven never considered to be under threat. Now, we have at least a dozen of our own soldiers stationed there, along with a blockade of large vehicles behind the wall to offer a further hindrance to any army that might advance on us.
As we approach, the vehicles are driven off and out of our way, and the western gate begins to grind open, revealing the long path towards the western quarter beyond. With a few words from Kira to the soldiers to watch for our return - one which should, she says, be quick – we pass on through and leave Inner Haven behind.
“You ready to go home?” asks Kira, now driving at a gentle and calm pace.
I nod and set my eyes forward.
I can’t damn well wait.
178
With the morning mist starting to clear, we move quickly through districts 1 and 2 of the west, driving along at a speed that would be deemed appropriate by any possible enemy patrol who might see us.
Kira explains to me that, despite the fact that few patrols have been spotted around here overnight and through the early part of the morning, nowhere beyond the wall is now considered safe. And should we come across one, it’s best if we blend in as well as we can. That means slow driving and appropriate urban camouflage, provided by the City Guard uniforms we now wear.
Given her remarkable knowledge of the city, developed over her many years with the Nameless, I’m not required to give her directions to the academy. When I start to tell her, she merely says: “I know,” and begins heading straight for Brick Lane, although does so via quieter side-streets to be as safe as she can.
The streets, to little surprise on my part, are quiet to the point of desolation. I think I spot one or two people, scurrying here and there as the Disposables used to in the north – in fact, they could very well be Disposables, heading here to find some minor respite from the heavier fighting where they hail from – but little more than that.
From windows, however, faces do appear, just as they did in Inner Haven. Up there, they’ll be hiding away now with nowhere to go, rationing their final stocks of food and, more pertinently, water.
Those who have run low will be growing more and more desperate, forced perhaps to seek other means of refilling their stores. What chaos has already spread will continue to grow, with the people having no other opportunity than to turn to more barbaric acts in order to survive.
And already, those criminal gangs and opportunists, the like of which Brandon the Bully has joined, will be growing stronger at this time of weakness and strife, forging their own position as the fighting fades and the power of the City Guards diminishes.
Even in a city without Cromwell and many of his soldiers, war will continue to rage. A different sort of war. A war among the normal people. A war of survival when a man will have no choice but to fight to keep hold of his life.
It’s just another facet of all of this that we now have a responsibility to control. While the clean water stores here in Outer Haven have grown low with the water treatment plant having been destroyed, Inner Haven remains unaffected. The more people we can bring into the inner city, the more we can support and save. If we don’t, a human
itarian crisis will rise up amid the ashes of this war that might just send the entire city spiralling away into a despair that is simply unrecoverable.
As we go, the impact of the fighting begins to become clear. We’d seen it all last night, of course, as we passed through the north. Now, though to less extremes, the residue of battle appears before my eyes.
Bits of rubble smatter the streets and pavements, little chunks of stone and brick bitten by bullets from the sides of buildings. Cars lie smouldering and blackened, burned to a crisp or merely abandoned in the streets. Large gashes appear on walls, the results of the more deadly settings on pulse rifles.
Shops appear emptied, their glass fronts smashed and stocks looted. Others have been barred up, their owners prepared for the onslaught of the plunderers and thieves who always sniff out an opportunity at such times.
Much of the damage I see will have been conducted by the agents of Cromwell, battling our own hybrids and soldiers as they stepped up and fought back. The rest will be the result of the scavengers, creeping about and taking what they can when the world is too distracted to know or care.
The further we go, the more worried I get. It isn’t only shops that appear to have suffered, but regular tenement blocks too. Security doors at the base of apartment buildings appear kicked or blown off their hinges as those desperate for food and water, or those merely looking to loot and steal, battled their way inside to take what they can. And who knows what sort of carnage they left behind to the human population.
I urge Kira to go faster now as we swerve down tight alleys. She understands my concerns, and so agrees to do so, speeding a little quicker as the streets, littered with detritus and rubble, become scattered too with the occasional body of a City Guard, hybrid, Con-Cop, or just some poor soul who got caught in the crossfire.
Soon, we’re reaching the north end of Brick Lane, and turning to drive down it. I guide my eyes forward and see the same carnage that seems to have engulfed the rest of district 5, so bad at certain points that the narrow road becomes impassable for the van with all the debris dominating the lane.
