An Outcast and an Ally

by Caitlin Lochner

  Ellis considers me for a long time before she chooses to answer. Her words are slow, deliberate. “We evacuate the youngest children through the emergency tunnel. Half our fighters will stay and fight to buy them time, and the other half will go with the kids to protect them. Then we’ll regroup.” Her gaze is unnervingly intense as she talks. She doesn’t even blink. “But there’s no reason they should find this place.”

  I raise my hands in peace, but my heart is hammering through my chest. Does she suspect me? Does she think I asked so I could give the mystery group better intel? Because she thinks I’d give them this location? Man, I really shouldn’t have said anything. Idiot. You need to be more careful than ever now that the Order’s moved. Just because you say something that doesn’t have to do with you actually spying doesn’t mean it won’t be taken as you spying. “I’m still learning how everything operates around here. You don’t seem stupid enough not to have some kind of backup plan, and I wanted to know what it was. Doesn’t everyone else know?”

  She continues to watch me. I think that’s what I find so unsettling about her. Her limitless patience. The way she just waits and watches you like she can see straight into your soul and she’s taking her time picking it apart to determine the best way to utterly crush you.

  “Thinking ahead is only natural,” she finally says. When she’s ready to speak. “It’s reasonable you’d want to know. But I suggest that instead of pondering a worst-case scenario, you start thinking about how we can eliminate the threats in our way so we don’t get to that point.”

  “Got it.” I try not to show my nervousness. I need to be more careful from now on—the last thing I need is to be openly suspected as a spy. Ugh. This is going to be a long war. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

  13

  LAI

  AS SOON AS the counterstrike team returns, Regail Hall bursts into celebration. Cheers echo through the stone tunnels as word spreads of the team’s success. Some of the members sustained light injuries, but thanks to Austin supplying the weapons we asked for in time and the element of surprise we had over the rebels, we suffered no deaths or life-threatening injuries. Amal, the commander of the team, leads them through an unintentional sort of victory march through the halls as they head for where Fiona and Trist are waiting for their report. Just about everyone in the Order comes out to congratulate them on the way. I can’t even get close to Amal to say welcome back.

  “I’m glad everything went well,” Jay says. He grips my hand as the counterstrike team marches proudly past where we stand among the crowd.

  “Me too,” I say, squeezing back. “But it’s only going to get harder from here. The rebels know we exist now. We won’t have surprise on our side anymore.”

  “No. But for the moment, isn’t it enough to enjoy this victory while we can? We were able to save some of the civilians and escort them back to the sector, stop the rebels, and prevent them from gaining more supplies. It’s good to look ahead and be cautious, but it’s also important to remember what’s been accomplished.” Jay smiles softly like he’s the mind reader. “Don’t worry, Lai. Everyone’s doing their best.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I return the smile, but I just can’t relax. Erik’s position is going to be more precarious after this. I’m worried about his safety. Nothing will be as easy or seamless as this first strike, either, and as much as I want everyone to take confidence in this victory, I don’t want them to think it’ll always end this well. I have to keep everyone safe. I need to be better, make sure I lead perfectly. No matter what, I will see an end to this war.

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  14

  LAI

  NIGHT COVERS EVERYTHING. Without the goggles Austin supplied the Order, it’d be almost impossible to see anything Outside. I wait with the Order’s counterstrike team in a shallow depression overlooking the location of the rebels’ next supply truck ambush. They’ve gotten much more cautious now that we’ve intercepted them six times—and more dangerous. They know to expect us now, though they still haven’t figured out how we’ve been nailing down their exact battle plans. Tensions are running high over there, apparently. I ask Erik if he’s okay every day, but his responses are always short. I can hear the thoughts he isn’t trying to convey to me, the anxiety, the constant hunger, the fear, but I leave him alone. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I won’t force him. I just hope he’s safe.

  Our team tonight is small but powerful. Between me, Al, Jay, and Peter, I feel like we could take anyone down. It was a serious debate with Fiona, Trist, and Syon on whether or not to bring Peter along. No matter how much time passes since Paul’s death, he’s still distant and distracted. He glazes over in meetings. Trying to distract him from his grief with more work just ends in mistakes the rest of us then have to fix. He needs to be back out in the field—he needs to remember what we’re fighting for. And that people are fighting. Life is going on.

  My grip tightens around my double-headed spear’s shaft as the ground starts to shake. The truck is coming. Jay and Al tense on either side of me in preparation for the upcoming fight, but Peter is staring up at the stars. I give him a telepathic poke.

  Focus, Peter.

  Yeah. I know. He shakes his head and grips his daggers.

  I don’t have time to convey anything else. The armored truck passes our shallow hiding space. Rebels spring out in front of and behind it—six of them, just like Erik said. One of them lifts a hand. Vines break out of the ground to jam the tires. The truck screeches to a stop.

  Then we’re moving. Al heads our formation, sending her fire scattering in front of our charge, but the rebels are ready. They must all have Gabriel’s neutralization crystal, because the fire doesn’t affect anyone it touches. The three rebels in back turn to face us while the three in front start trying to break into the truck. Shouts sound from inside of it.

  Of the three rebels coming to meet us, Al dispatches the first easily with her halberd and keeps running to take care of those in front. She makes it look so effortless, so graceful, I’m almost jealous. She doesn’t even need her flames to dominate a battle. Jay and I tag-team the second rebel while the third goes for Peter.

  Our opponent is thick with muscle and armed with a spear. She swings low, trying to trip up our footwork, but Jay throws one of his knives at her chest and she has to sidestep quickly to dodge it. I come in from her other side. She swings again, this time aiming for my stomach, and I fall back. Jay throws another knife and she deflects it with her spear shaft. But he’d already started running at her as soon as he’d thrown it. He gets in close and thrusts one of his knives just under her rib cage. When she lifts her spear to try to plunge it into his back, I run my spear through her heart. She chokes and falls to her knees with a muffled sob.

  I hope her death was as painless as possible. My stomach still turns every time I kill someone, especially after hearing so much about the rebels from Erik. But I can’t afford to hesitate. It could cost my friends’ lives. At least there’s no one Erik is close with on this raid.

  I turn back to make sure Peter’s okay—just in time to see the third rebel’s sword narrowly miss his chest. Peter fumbles with his daggers. The rebel thrusts again. This time, he hits Peter’s arm. Deep. Blood immediately falls as Peter drops one of his daggers with a gasp.

  I’m behind the rebel before he can attack again. He spins around to block my spear, but I caught him off guard. He doesn’t put enough strength behind it. My spear twists around his blade and sends it flying out of his grip before one of Jay’s knives finds its mark in his throat.

  “Jay, give Al some backup,” I say. The words snap off my tongue. “I’ll stay with Peter.”

  “You don’t need to—” Peter starts.

  “Understood,” Jay says. He runs toward Al without another word.

  I take the small first-aid kit out of the compartment on my tool belt. Pull out the bandages to try to stem Peter’s bleeding.

  “We’re still in the
middle of a battle,” Peter protests, but I yank his arm toward me and apply pressure to the wound.

  “Al and Jay can handle the rest,” I say. “You’re bleeding too much.” There are other things I want to say, but I bite them back. Later. He’s shaking under my touch. He knows he messed up. He needs time to calm down before I talk to him.

  Once the bleeding seems to have stopped, I pull out clean bandages and wrap them around the cut. I’ve just finished my hasty job when Al calls, “All clear!”

  Peter and I go to join the others by the truck. I scan Jay and Al quickly, but neither of them look hurt. I’m sure the military-grade protective gear from Austin helped. Al is already burning the vines off the tires. Thankfully, the truck is still intact this time and the ungifted inside it shouldn’t have any problem going on their way.

  “The last three rebels retreated when I arrived to help Al,” Jay says. “We were able to injure one of them, but not badly. He’ll be on the battlefield again, I’m sure.”

  “As long as they’re gone, that’s fine for now.” I glance to the driver’s side door of the truck when the window starts to roll down.

  The woman inside is covered head-to-toe in the protective gear the ungifted need to survive Outside, but even through her helmet, I can see her eyes shining with recognition. “You’re the—the Order, aren’t you? Thank you. Oh gods, thank you. I thought we were dead.” A man leans around her other side to nod vigorously.

  I can’t help it. Pride swells in my chest. For the past two months, we’ve delivered all the civilians we’ve saved to a hospital in the sector, where they could recover. Each time, if they weren’t too badly injured, we’d talk to the victims on our way back to Sector Eight. We’d tell them a bit about the Order, of how we want peace between the gifted and ungifted, how we want to help bring down the rebels. They were skeptical at first. But they spoke of us. And now, this seventh time, the people we saved recognized us. They know about us. And they’ll tell others about how we saved them.

  It feels wrong to use such awful events for our own advantage, but something good might as well come out of it.

  “We are with the Order,” I say. If the two recognize me, Jay, or Al from the Council’s wanted list, they don’t show it. Either that or they don’t care since we just saved them. “We’re glad you’re both safe. Do you need any help from here?”

  The two glance at each other. “Would you—mind coming with us on our way to Sector Eight?” the woman asks. “That’s where you’re from, right? If those rebels come back, there’s no way we’ll stand a chance.”

  I smile. “Of course. We’d be glad to see you safely home.”

  * * *

  As much as I want to sleep in after a counterstrike mission, the Order waits for no one. The morning after the rebels’ attempted raid, Peter and I follow Rowan as they lead us through their lab. Rowan is our tech geek and the head of the Order’s research team. A fourteen-year-old Nyte with a gift that lets them understand how something works just by touching it and the endless curiosity of an inventor, they, and their research team, have been responsible for the Order’s best inventions and tech improvements. Well, “research team” is glorifying it a bit. It’s a group of about a dozen people who are inquisitive and like to figure things out. They’re far from professionals, but they’re passionate.

  “Have you had any success making the Outside suits less vulnerable to tearing?” I ask as Rowan continues to lead us past rows of tables littered with tools and half-finished devices I can’t make heads or tails of. We stop every few feet so Rowan can update us on all the current projects, but I think we’re finally at the end.

  “We’re working on testing a new fabric one of our teammates came up with a few days ago,” Rowan says. Their tightly curled black hair bobs with every step they take. Rowan tilts their head in greeting to a pair of researchers we pass, but the two are so engrossed in some kind of disassembled dashboard they don’t notice. “I can’t say anything for sure, but we have high hopes. With the new composition we’re working on, the fabric should be lighter and stronger than that of even military-issued suits. Pretty neat, huh? Oh, and of course we’ve been working on strengthening the areas surrounding vital spots especially—that’s been our main focus, and we’ve been making a ton of progress. In fact—”

  Rowan enthusiastically continues on about some new discovery in the science community to do with reinforced fabrics or something. A sharp contrast to me and Peter, both of us only having enough energy to keep walking and ask the necessary check-in questions. When was the last time I was that excited about anything?

  Then again, Rowan is and has always been full of energy. I don’t know what we’d do without them. The Outside suits especially have been a big concern among our ungifted members; it only takes a tear as wide as a hair to kill them within minutes. Anything we can do to further protect our friends is a great help, and we have Rowan to thank for most of our gear’s advancement. But at this exact moment, I wish they would calm down just a little. Watching them exhausts me even more.

  “It sounds like you guys are making good headway,” Peter cuts in during Rowan’s monologue about some big-name Etiole inventor in Sector Three and her recent publication on … something.

  “This is fantastic, Rowan,” I agree, leaping on the chance to make an exit. “You and your team are doing great.”

  Rowan beams. “Thank you, Lai. It’s only because you supported my motion to make this team that we’ve been able to get this far.”

  “I’m just grateful for how much you’ve all helped us.” I check the notes on my clipboard. How is there always such an endless list of things to do? I barely manage to hold back a groan. Or maybe it’s a yawn. “We have to go meet with a few other people, but thank you for showing us around today, Rowan.”

  Their smile widens. “No problem, Lai. You guys just let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Will do.”

  We part with a wave, and then Peter and I delve back into our notes as we walk past the tables of equipment on our way out.

  Peter flips through his papers with the tired motion of someone who’s sick of always looking for something. “Our next core meeting is tonight. What’s up for discussion?”

  “Concerns from Sakchai that she’s falling under suspicion from the Council as a backer of the Order. She wants to lie low for a while, so we need to plan around that.” Sakchai is probably our most important supporter—the head of a transport company that trades goods between sectors, she’s one of the few people in the sector who has her own pair of Gates leading Outside for business use. Without her, we wouldn’t even be able to consider participating in this war. “We need to figure out a way to get more medicine, too.”

  “Got it. Then for now, I’m going to go check in with the recruit team about our next screening for potential new members. They’ve been flooding in lately.”

  Peter’s voice drags over the words. We’ve stopped at the entranceway of the lab, which is the obvious point of parting, but even though we both still have too much to get done today, I say, “Peter. We need to talk.”

  He waits but won’t look at me.

  He’s thinner than I’ve ever seen him. His cheekiness and general easygoing air from when Paul was around haven’t resurfaced once in the last three months. All of us have said multiple times that he can step down from his duties as a captain, take some time, but every time, he’d shake his head and say he needed something to focus on. We’ve all tried everything we can think of to comfort him or cheer him up, but nothing’s worked.

  I don’t know what to say to console him. That’s never been something I’m good at. Paul’s death still drags at my heart every time I think of him or look at his brother, though I’m sure that’s nothing compared to what Peter himself must be going through. But I have to at least try to say something.

  “I’m worried about you,” I say softly. “I’m sure if Paul were here, he would be, too. He wouldn’t want you to be so c
onsumed by grief that you put yourself in danger when you go out into battle.”

  Peter doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then, “Lai, why did you assign me to last night’s raid team? You’re the one who made that decision, aren’t you?”

  I hesitate, but there’s no reason not to say the truth. “I was hoping it’d remind you of what’s happening and why we’re here. What we’ve all spent years working on.”

  “So you think if you give me a goal and tell me to go for it, I’ll forget about Paul?”

  “That’s not—”

  “We’re not all you, Lai,” Peter says very, very quietly. “I can’t just shut up my emotions for the greater good like you do.” He still won’t look me in the eye. “If that’s it, I’m going.”

  He doesn’t wait for a response before leaving.

  * * *

  I find Jay watching over the Order’s budding farm plot. He sits on his heels at the edge of it, looking out over the fuzzy green tufts sprouting from the soil. His chin rests on his arms, eyes distant and thoughtful.

  I sit beside him. “How goes it?”

  “Me or the carrots?”

  “Both.”

  “Fine, and looking a little wilted but still good.”

  “Well, hope you can perk up again soon.”

  He laughs and I feel a knot inside my chest loosen. “What about you?” he asks. “You look exhausted.”

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “Merely an observation.”

  “Well, it’s a little too spot-on.” Even as I sit here, fatigue pulls at my limbs. I’d go to sleep right here and now if I didn’t crave conversation with Jay.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asks.