Rebellion

by K A Riley

  “What have you become?” It’s Manthy. She’s been sitting between Olivia and Rain in silence, but now she seems invested and interested in whatever it is Wisp is trying to tell us.

  “I’m one of you, I think.”

  “Of course, you are!” Rain laughs with relief, finally looking up from her project of the moment. “That’s what Kress was trying to tell you.”

  Wisp shakes her head again and frowns. “No. I mean I’m an Emergent. I have an ability to lead people, to make good decisions, and to wade through all kinds of advice, obstacles, worries and still come up with the right course of action. I don’t have Kress’s memory or Rain’s gift for military strategy. Oddly, I suck at chess. And I certainly can’t come close to doing what you do, Manthy. I don’t know why or where it comes from. And the truth is that sometimes it’s so much responsibility…it’s just…being a one-hundred percent leader doesn’t leave a lot of space for enjoying being part of a family.”

  We don’t say anything for a minute. After all, being an Emergent is new to me and Manthy, and I’m not sure if Rain even really believes in the idea of it, or of us, at all these days. Even after all she’s seen us do, after all she’s been able to do herself, and after all she’s learned and heard, Rain is an analyzer, a pure scientist to the core. She holds a small part of herself in check just in case she’s being duped. Probably a helpful side-effect from our many years of living in fear of a non-existent enemy. But Manthy, usually reserved to a fault, stands up and walks around the table to sit down next to Wisp.

  “Why do you think being an Emergent might be a bad thing?”

  I’m startled to see Wisp’s eyes well up with tears that she quickly suppresses.

  “I can’t get close to anyone,” she laments with a glance up at the ceiling. “It’s like the same thing that made me able to assemble and lead these people is the same thing that’s in the process of putting a thick wall up around my heart.”

  “But you love Brohn,” I remind her. “You love us, right?”

  Wisp nods, clears her throat, and sits up straight in her seat. “More than anything. More than you know.”

  “Then what…?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was seeing my three friends die like that. Maybe it’s because our battle could be over tomorrow, but the war could last a lifetime. Something’s happening to me, Kress.” Wisp shakes her head like she’s clearing it and gets back to the schematics and her strategic analysis.

  “We really are all in this together,” I assure her.

  When I reach out to her, she shrugs me off. “Don’t worry,” she laughs. “I’ll figure it out.”

  I start to invite her to say more, but she’s already back to being Wisp: focused, poised, and steadfastly determined to succeed. All business now, she taps her comm-link and orders someone, probably one of the Insubordinates, to deliver a package to Grace Cathedral and another case of ammo to be delivered through the Mission Street tunnel to a nearby park. At the same time, she’s making tiny adjustments to precise locations on the holograms in front of her to illustrate where our various strike teams are scheduled to rendezvous. Each room in the Armory lights up at her touch and rotates around as she peels back layers, exposing everything from plumbing to circuitry running through the walls. From her side of the table, Rain is doing the same, her hands whipping around almost as fast as Wisp’s. The two of them make little adjustments, inputting codes as they go to help us circumvent certain parts of the security protocols and identify optimal entry and exit points. Manthy and Olivia have returned to their monitors as they continue to try to identify and repair the odd problems we’ve been having with our communication network.

  That leaves me with little to do except sit and watch and remember something Ekker said about us kids from the Valta all being connected. There’s no doubt Wisp has some serious abilities. Practically super human. There’s no doubt she’s one of us, and it’s clear she’s stronger with us than she ever was alone. So why does she seem so lonely?

  It’s nothing I’m going to figure out any time soon, so I stand and stretch and ask Wisp if she needs me for anything.

  “Not at the moment,” she says, her eyes still glued to her schematics and screens as she calls across the table to Olivia for help with one of the Patriot Army surveillance drones she’s trying to patch into.

  “I’m going to pay a visit to Render,” I say.

  When no one says anything, I figure that’s my permission, and I slip out the door and head downstairs to Caldwell’s lab. I’m tempted to head upstairs to visit Brohn, but I know he’ll be immersed in the most important part of their training program right now, and I don’t want to be a distraction. So I walk down the single flight of stairs to the second floor where the Modifieds live.

  They either ignore me as I enter the main room or else look at me through hollow eyes like they’ve never seen me before. From his lab two rooms over, Caldwell calls out for me to join him.

  When I go through the room just before his lab, the one where the Modifieds had mysteriously been upgraded through what Caldwell explained was a Synaptic Autogenetic Neuro Synthesis monitoring system, I notice some of the indicator lights have dropped down to green. Others are back to blue, indicating the highest level of pain.

  When I enter Caldwell’s lab, I ask him about it as I lean over to press my cheek to Render’s side in greeting.

  “Manthy seems to have been able to relieve some of their pain,” Caldwell explains. “But the effect, unfortunately, is temporary.”

  “Should I see if she can come back down and help them again?” I ask.

  Caldwell plops down into the lab chair next to mine and reaches out to run his hand along Render’s sleek black feathers and gold-plated armor. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What she does for them…what she gives them…it’s an amazing thing. A real gift.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “It’s also a drug. It’s artificial. It’s not real.”

  Caldwell is a brilliant scientist and mechanic. His knowledge of the Modifieds extends from knowing everything about who they were to all that goes into helping them live as they are. Still, I feel I have to disagree with him on his last point. “I don’t know if I’d be so quick to dismiss what Manthy can do,” I tell him. “Yes. It seems whatever she did may have been temporary. But if she had time, I think she could give them real, permanent peace.”

  Caldwell picks up a toothpick-sized tool and fiddles with one of the filaments running along Render’s left wing. “Can I ask you a small favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “This is a satellite operation we’re in right now. The real hub of power is back east in D.C. That’s where the Deenays are stationed.”

  When I don’t say anything right away, Caldwell continues talking, his head still bent down, his eyes glued to the flashing code in the air in front of him as he makes micro-adjustments to Render’s new implants. “The Modifieds are intricately networked. It’s by design. They are the recipients of and the vessels for some of the most inventive and complicated code ever written.”

  Caldwell looks at me, probably to see if I’m still paying attention, which I am. “You see,” he continues, “if someone had the ability to wade through that code, perhaps even communicate with it…they could theoretically break into the Deenays’ headquarters, infiltrate their Modifieds program, tap into and alter the existing protocols, rewrite the code, and…”

  “Wait. After all this is over, you want us to recruit the Modifieds into the war against Krug? That’s the small favor?”

  “Okay,” Caldwell admits, “the favor isn’t small. But neither is the good that can come out of it. Who knows? Maybe someday, with Manthy’s skills and your guidance, these Modifieds could help us win this war. They could bring about peace. Not just for us, but for themselves.”

  I sink down into my chair as the enormity of what Caldwell is suggesting sinks down into me. “It’s funny,” I say.

  “What’
s that?”

  “The idea that Emergents and Modifieds, the two biggest groups of freaks, might be the only ones who can get the world back to normal.”

  21

  Friday

  The next morning, after we’re awake and dressed, Wisp and Granden join us in the Mess Hall. It’s beyond early, and we’re the only ones up. I promise myself, if we live through the night, I’m going to make it a top priority to curl up somewhere and sleep for three days straight.

  For now, I’m resigned to running on fumes. I’ve got Render on my lap, and I absently stroke the feathers around the helmet on his head and run my fingers along the gold circuitry lining his new, streamlined body armor.

  “It’s Friday,” Cardyn announces, rubbing his hands together. “Tonight’s the big night.”

  Manthy scowls at him. “Thank you so much, oh bearer of obvious news.”

  Cardyn’s clever retort consists of sticking his tongue out at her.

  “Unfortunately, he’s right,” Granden says. “Krug and his entourage arrive this morning. The remainder of the Patriot Army troops arrives tomorrow. If all of them manage to get into the city, this whole thing is over. They’ll control everything here like they do everywhere else. Taking over the Armory tonight is essential. Which means it’s now or never.”

  “Then it’s definitely now,” Wisp says. “Krug will be escorted into the city and over to the Armory. With the change of guard on Mission and another guard change on 14th Street fifteen minutes after that, they’ll be at their most vulnerable. Not defenseless, mind you. Just slightly less prepared.”

  “So, you’re saying this’ll be easy,” Cardyn says with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Exactly,” Wisp banters back. “Only just the opposite. Even with Olivia and Manthy’s help, we’ve managed to hijack just four of their security feeds and one of their network channels.”

  “And how many feeds and channels are there?” Cardyn asks.

  “Forty-five unique security feeds, seven separate network channels, and another batch of drone protocols we weren’t able to tap into at all.”

  “See?” Cardyn says, his fingers interlaced around his piping hot coffee cup. “Easy.”

  Rain shakes her head, but I think I catch Manthy smiling.

  “Was there ever any talk of taking Krug out before he even gets to the Armory?” Brohn asks. “After all, there are only so many ways into the city. If we could ambush him or something this morning…”

  “We discussed it,” Rain says. “But even if we managed to catch him and kill him, it would still leave the city at risk of being taken over by the Patriot Army.”

  “It’s true,” Wisp adds. “Cutting the head off of this particular monster will still leave it with lots of dangerous limbs thrashing around. No. We need to do it this way. The Munitions Depot, the Communications Center, and especially the Command Headquarters in the Armory are the key. Hit them all at once, take out the head, the heart, the whole thing. What happens tomorrow won’t change much in the outside world. Even if we manage to capture or kill Krug tonight, the generals in his Patriot Army will still be in control of the country. But not of this city. And if we liberate just one city, make just one safe place, we can build a real home base and begin to finally spread the word about what Krug is really up to.”

  “I still can’t believe they’re even letting Krug into this city,” I say. “They should be burning him in effigy.”

  “I don’t know where Effigy is,” Cardyn declares, his fist raised high. “But it’d be so much easier to just burn him here in San Francisco.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Manthy asks.

  Cardyn gives her a sly smile. “You’ll die wondering.”

  “Okay, okay,” Wisp says. “Let’s keep the talk of death to a minimum, shall we?” She gives me a strange look. “They’re not going to welcome him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The people of San Francisco. They’d even protest if they could. But, technically, they’re not allowed. Too many zoning restrictions in place. The local police won’t enforce them, but the Patriot Army will. And they make kills, not arrests.” Wisp puts down her coffee cup and sits up straight like she’s had an epiphany. “Do you want to see the big parade?”

  “Parade?”

  With an impish glint in her eye, she glances down at the thin silver band on her wrist. “According to the news feed this morning, Krug will be arriving in less than half an hour. There’ll be quite the gala celebration upon his arrival. Music. Fireworks. Laser light show. Cheering crowds. The works. Want to have a look?”

  “Cheering crowds?” Cardyn asks.

  Brohn and I exchange a slightly terrified glance before he clears his throat and wipes the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Last time we went out, we almost didn’t make it back.”

  “Don’t worry,” Wisp laughs. “We can watch it on Olivia’s monitors downstairs. It’ll be broadcast all around the city. Trust me. You’ll want to see this.”

  The five of us look around at each other and then at Wisp.

  “Okay,” Brohn says at last, his hand on his chest, unconsciously I’m sure, as he must be recalling the pain of getting shot and suspended in an anti-grav cell. He hasn’t talked much about it, but a couple of times, including this morning, I’ve caught him cringing and inspecting under his shirt to check on the progress of the purplish bruises still covering his chest.

  “What about them?” he asks, gesturing with a flick of his thumb toward the hall.

  “I’ll take care of them,” Granden offers. “I have some updated sims and a few new programs to run through with them before tonight. If you’re going to be downstairs, I can go ahead and wake them early and get them started.” He’s got his eyes on Wisp as he awaits her permission.

  Wisp tells him it’s a good idea and that he can go, and then she takes me, Brohn, Cardyn, Rain, and Manthy downstairs to the Intel Room.

  “Is he here yet?” Wisp asks Olivia as we walk into the room. “Krug, I mean.”

  “Just arriving,” she sings out. “He’s a little ahead of schedule.”

  “Can you call it up for our friends here?”

  “Initiated.”

  Cardyn rubs his hands together. “I’ve never seen a parade before. Sounds exciting. I wish we could go out and enjoy it in person.”

  Brohn and I shake our heads in unison. “Bad idea,” I tell Cardyn with a hand on his shoulder. “Ekker already caught me and Brohn once, and he managed to locate the Style. We’re lucky to be alive. Let’s not tempt fate.”

  Rain tells him he’s welcome to go rushing out into the streets and greet Krug in person if he really wants to.

  Crossing his arms and pouting, Cardyn harrumphs his reluctant agreement that rushing out into the streets in full view of Krug, Ekker, and the Patriot Army is probably not our best course of action at the moment.

  “Okay,” Wisp says. “Here we go.”

  Above the table, a large 3-D satellite feed materializes in vivid color and detail. Just as Wisp promised, a massive parade is in full swing from the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge down what Wisp tells us is Interstate-80.

  “They’re on their way to the Armory,” she says, pointing to certain points on the display. “You can even see some of the streets and neighborhoods Kress and Brohn got to explore.”

  “I still don’t think it’s fair they got to go on a date while the rest of us had to stay here and work,” Cardyn groans.

  “Yeah,” I say. “That was a fun day.”

  “We really should do it again sometime,” Brohn says.

  “Absolutely. I especially enjoyed getting shot at and imprisoned.”

  “Oh,” Brohn adds, “Don’t forget the fun part where we got to run for our lives.”

  Brohn and I share a laugh as Cardyn scowls at us.

  “Hey, look,” Rain exclaims, her hands on the edge of the table as she leans in for a closer look. “It’s starting!”

  We all sit down around the tab
le, our eyes fixed on the images being projected in front of us.

  The pageantry is incredible!

  I recognize Krug’s heli-barge from the images we used to see projected on our own viz-screens back in the Valta. The large, flat raft was always Krug’s preferred method of making an entrance. Running on mag-boosters, it ferried Krug around, sometimes hovering just above the ground, other times carrying him and his entourage high above the heads of the cheering people below.

  Krug, as usual, is taking it all in, absorbing the moment and lapping up the accolades. His slick black hair contrasts sharply with his silver suit and blood-red tie. His rotten teeth make for an odd disparity with everything else about him, which is all glitz, wealth, and style. All it takes is a glimpse of Krug, and the memories come flooding back, and, in retrospect, they’re all embarrassing. We thought this man was our noble hero leading the fight against the dreaded Eastern Order who had so mercilessly bombed our town nearly to the ground. This was our president. Our representative. The one who knew the truth and who was committed to keeping us safe.

  Growing up, we had each other, and we had the constant reports from Krug about the war against the Eastern Order. When we were recruited and after the smoke cleared, we still had each other, but we also had the aftermath of all the deception we’re still struggling to sort out in our heads. This man, this so-called leader, used us and made all of our lives a lie.

  Now, standing triumphantly atop his heli-barge, Krug waves to the adoring throng lining the San Francisco streets and cheering from row after row of balconies and rooftops. Krug looks almost misty-eyed as he nods his appreciation to the men, women, and children who are all holding up their left hands, first two fingers spread out, ring and pinky fingers tucked down, and with their thumbs extended to form the “K” symbol in honor of their beloved leader. They pump their hands in the air, shouting, “Krug!” over and over again.

  “This is what everyone is seeing on their viz-screens right now,” Wisp explains. “Not just us here, but everywhere. The residents of the New Towns. The Wealthies in the Arcologies. Even the poor Scroungers and Survivalists in the radioactive deserts all around the country. Those people don’t have schools, roads, hospitals, or anything. But Krug made sure they had viz-screens, drugs, and guns. Everything they’d need to brainwash and kill themselves so Krug wouldn’t have to. So everyone gets to see their beloved President Krug swooping into town on his big shiny chariot.” Wisp nods to Olivia, whose tendrils snake out into her console as a second image appears next to the first.