An Outcast and an Ally

by Caitlin Lochner

  I manage to make it to Austin’s reception room without incident, but the space is stuffed so full of officers I have to elbow my way to Noah’s desk. Conversation rises in an overwhelming deluge around me. It crashes over me in vicious waves, suffocating me nearly as much as the bodies pressed around me. Noah is speaking rapidly on the phone, but as soon as he sees me, without breaking his stream of conversation, he presses a few keys on his keyboard and jerks his chin for me to head into Austin’s office.

  I attempt to make my way there, but officers block my path and refuse to move. Three of them stand in a line before the door, arms crossed or hands on the compressed weapons on their equipment belts.

  “Whatever it is you want with the general, now’s not the time,” one of them says. I recognize her. She’s the officer who came to get a piece of furniture Erik made, back when we were more actively trying to rid ourselves of his too-many creations. She struck me as sympathetic then, and even now, the lines around her eyes are understanding. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but—”

  “I’m not here about the Council’s experiments,” I say. For perhaps the first time when speaking to another officer, there’s no deference in my voice. I have a purpose here—and I will see it through. “General Austin is expecting me. Move aside.”

  The officer’s eyebrows lift as surprise flashes through her presence. Yet she doesn’t budge, and the two officers behind her draw their compressed weapons. Around us, others have noticed the commotion. They wall me in like a trapped Feral. Yet I don’t feel any fear—only urgency. If I have to fight everyone here to get to Austin, I will.

  However, before it can get to that point, Noah says clearly behind me, “All of you, stand down. The general is expecting ex-Major Kitahara. We don’t have time.”

  “Of course a Nyte would try to let another Nyte through,” a different officer, one in the crowd, says. “What if you’re both just trying to take out your anger against the Council on the general? Like hell we’ll let anything happen to him.”

  A Nyte-versus-Etiole fight right now? Really?

  The door behind the three officers in front of me slams open. They startle and turn to find Austin standing in the doorway of his office. His eyes sweep over the scene once before he jerks his thumb for me to come inside. “Kitahara, hurry. We have much to discuss.”

  I push past the officers previously blocking my path. They no longer attempt to stop me.

  Austin slams the door closed once I’m inside. “The rebels are planning to attack the sector,” he says. “That broadcast—I’m sure of it.”

  “Lai suspects the same. She wants the Order and military to work together to stop them.”

  Austin shakes his head. For the first time, it occurs to me that he could refuse to help us. I forget how to breathe.

  “I want to stop the rebel attack,” Austin says at the look on my face. “But there’s something I need to take care of first. Something that must be dealt with right away.”

  I can’t comprehend what he means for a heartbeat. What could possibly be more urgent than stopping a force of Nytes from attacking Sector Eight? Then it occurs to me. “You mean to confront the High Council.”

  He nods. “Even if we beat the rebels, we won’t be able to do anything with those Councilors in charge. If we wait, there’s a chance they could escape or gather their allies together or else spread more of their lies. In all the current confusion, we have to take them down—now.”

  “But there won’t be any point if the dome takes damage. It would only take a crack—”

  “I don’t think Ellis will necessarily aim for the dome,” Austin says. He begins pacing back and forth, thumbnail between his teeth. “We’ll need a sizeable force to take down the Council. I’m sure they won’t go down without a fight. There will likely also be those who support their decisions, so they’re going to be gathering their forces right now. We must deal with them first. But if the Order could hold off the rebels until we can come to back you up—we might just be able to take down our two biggest problems in one day.”

  My thoughts race faster than my heart. “How long do you think we’d have to hold out? We don’t even know how many of them will be coming, and the Order is still recovering from its last loss.”

  “I know. I know it’s a lot to ask. But it’s the only way.”

  I take a deep, steadying breath. This isn’t what Lai was hoping for. However, if it’s all we can get, it’s still better than the Order going out there to face the rebels alone.

  “Can you spare any soldiers, weapons, or armor?” I ask. “Anything at all.”

  Austin’s pacing pauses. “I’ll have Noah arrange as much as we can spare.” He calls for his secretary, who appears almost immediately.

  “Yes, sir?” Noah asks. His eyes are wild—more so than the other soldiers’ or even Order members’. Earlier, I assumed it was because of the rebels’ announcement along with all the subsequent chaos he’s had to deal with as the general’s secretary, but when I take a closer look at his presence, I realize whatever is afflicting him is something else. Deep-rooted fear chokes on red-hot rage. Regret and grief tangle their fingers through the embers.

  “I need you to get whatever support you can to the Order,” Austin says. “They’re going to hold off the rebels’ attack for as long as they can until we can get there to help. Whatever we can spare, make sure it gets to them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When you can join us, the Order members will be wearing red strips of cloth,” I say. “As a way for the military to differentiate between us and the rebels.” It was Erik’s idea—it hadn’t even occurred to me that there could be confusion over who’s a rebel and who’s an Order member. But especially with gifted on both sides, we don’t want our own attacked.

  “I’ll make sure everyone knows,” Austin says. “I’ll leave you both to plan the details of the military and Order’s coordination. I need to get the officers together and start moving.”

  “Understood,” Noah and I say simultaneously. Then Austin is out the door, shouting orders, and I’m attempting to get everything straight in my head. It’s going to be okay. We just have to hold the rebels off long enough for the military to arrive. The Council shouldn’t pose much problem—they’ve always relied on the military for their primary firepower, and now that Austin will be leading the military against them, they’ll have little to defend themselves with. We can do this. Deep breaths. Focus on what you can do right now. Worrying over everything else won’t help.

  “I’m coming with you,” Noah says.

  I blink. “What?”

  “The Order—I’m going to fight with you,” he says. “You’re going to need however many spare soldiers you can get, aren’t you? I’ll help hold off the rebels.”

  “What? You can’t—it’s too dangerous.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I don’t know why I’m saying them. What he said is true, after all, and Noah is a gifted soldier. He could help the Order tremendously, even if his gift—whatever it is—isn’t suited to battle. “You’re too important to the military. Once all this is over, Austin is going to need you more than ever. You have to be there to help him.”

  However, Noah is shaking his head before I’ve even finished. “You don’t understand. I need to be there. I … I have to make up for everything I’ve done on the Council’s orders. Please. I need this as much as the Order does.”

  I hesitate, but his presence is solid with resolve. His earlier conflicting emotions are still there, but they’re secondary now to his determination. Why am I hesitating? There should be no reason for me to say no. The Order needs all the help it can get. He’s proven countless times he’s on our side. Yet I recall the last time he spoke about the things he’d done on the Council’s orders. The fear, the regret.

  I grab his hand. “Noah. If you come, you have to promise you’ll try to survive.”

  He opens his mouth, closes it again. Stares at me.

  The anxiety beating a
gainst my chest strengthens. “You said you wanted to make up for what you’ve done, right? I don’t know the details or what you think you have to make up for, but you can’t do it if you’re dead, right? That’s why, if you want to repent for whatever wrongs you feel you’ve done on behalf of the Council, the best way you can do that is by helping Austin correct their mistakes. Only you can do that. If you understand, I’ll gladly welcome you into the Order’s ranks. If not, I’ll have to refuse your assistance.”

  Noah’s eyes drop to the floor. He takes a deep breath. Several heartbeats pass before he looks back up at me. This time, the resolve of his presence is a different shade. “I understand. Now come with me and we’ll get together everything and everyone we can to help the Order.”

  31

  LAI

  I’M NERVOUS ABOUT standing in front of the Order again. It’ll be my first time talking from the stage as Lai, the cover of Walker dead with Fiona. I know how I must look, one-armed and tired. As much as I clean myself up, and even after I’ve changed into more formal clothes to address everyone, I’m not blind. I can see the exhaustion in my face. In the way I move when I’m not careful.

  But Trist, Peter, and Syon stick close to me. Before I have to walk out onstage, they hug me so close their heartbeats pound against my ears.

  “All will be well, Lai,” Trist murmurs.

  “And if for some reason it’s not, we’ll be right there with you,” Peter says. When he lets go, he takes my shoulders and, smiling, squeezes them. It’s such a different smile from the easy one he wore before Paul’s death. But it’s a more resilient one. A fiercer one. “Go get ’em, Lai.”

  Syon solemnly signs encouragement to me before squeezing my hand.

  “Way to almost make me cry right before I have to go talk to the entire Order, you guys.”

  Trist laughs as he pounds me on the back. “That is why we are here.”

  I smile. Even if I lose the Order, I know these three will still be here for me. No matter how this goes, I won’t be alone.

  “Well,” I say, “let’s get this show on the road.”

  I walk out onstage with Trist and Peter close behind. Their presence alone makes me calmer than I would’ve thought possible with everything going on.

  The room stills and quiets as I take my place on the stage. Unlike when I hid behind the illusion of Walker, everyone sees me as I am. I’m overly conscious of my missing arm, and how it feels like a physical reminder of everything we’ve lost. Of how I let everyone down.

  But even so, I’m still fighting. Still going. In spite of it all.

  I lift my chin proudly before the room of a thousand people watching me. Even though the illusion of Walker is gone, I adopt my old accent from Sector Four to speak in the voice everyone recognizes as hers. “I would first like to apologize for my absence this past week. When everyone needed me most, I wasn’t here as I should have been.” I hesitate and drop the accent. And, unintentionally, my volume. “I also want to say I’m sorry for deceiving everyone for so long. I thought it would be better for everyone if I hid who I really was. I don’t know whether that choice was right or wrong. But I am sorry for hiding it.”

  I take a deep breath and keep going, back at my original volume, in my normal voice, knowing I won’t need Walker’s anymore. Probably never again. My pulse hammers against my skin. “I’m also sorry for our recent loss. I led us straight into a trap and we suffered greatly for it. You all have every right to blame me.”

  There’s no sound in the room. When I try to meet as many gazes as I can, I don’t know what it is I’m seeing. For once, I don’t lean in to anyone’s minds. Maybe I’m actually respecting their privacy. Maybe I’m just too afraid to know what everyone’s actually thinking. Maybe knowing would make it impossible for me to go on.

  Keep going. You can do this—you have to do this.

  Another deep breath. “I want us to be able to properly mourn those we’ve lost. I owe them that much, at least. However, I’m sure you all saw the rebels’ broadcast. I don’t think there’s anyone who isn’t aware of what they revealed by this point. And we—” I hesitate. “I believe the rebels intend to use this broadcast as a diversion. While the sector is thrown into chaos, I think the rebels will attack in deadly force. I can think of no other reason for this timing or why else the rebels would have withheld this information for so long.”

  At this—finally—there’s talk. Mutters and concerned whispers spread through the room like a rush of wind. I give everyone a few moments to process this and decide how they feel about it—or maybe I’m just putting off what I have to say next.

  “I wish to fight back,” I say and cringe when my voice comes out louder than I meant it to. My nerves crash against my chest. Don’t worry about it don’t worry don’t worry. “We’ve already received reports of massive protests and riots going on throughout the sector. We’ve been in touch with the military for help regarding the likely upcoming attack, but they must deal with the protests as well as the Council. They won’t be able to defend the sector from an outside attack in time.”

  My hand is shaking. I ball it into a fist at my side. I hope the gesture looks more like righteous anger than me trying to hide how nervous I am to tell all these people I want to put them back in death’s way. All their eyes on me are like daggers. “The general has made an agreement with us. If we can buy enough time for the military to arrest the High Councilors and calm the riots, they’ll join us in the fight and back us up. With the military there, we could finish this war for good.” I raise my voice above the outbreak of conversation. “We’re the only thing that could potentially stop the rebels from destroying the sector. I know we’ve just suffered a major loss. I know you have no reason to follow me back into battle—nor will I force anyone to. But if we don’t fight back now, we could lose everything. If they break the dome or invade the sector in full force, there won’t be a second chance. I’m going to fight. And I would ask everyone who is willing and able to join me.”

  I wait. Or maybe I just don’t know what to say next. When it must become clear to everyone that I’m not going to say any more, the mutterings start up again. I can’t make out the words through the blood pounding in my ears. What if they say no? What if they say yes, but they want a different leader? I wouldn’t blame them. I’d be okay with stepping down and giving the role to someone more capable. Just so long as everyone doesn’t give up. Just so long as we can all keep fighting together.

  Someone shouts, “I’m in!” from near the back of the room. I blink and see Jay—Jay, who never shouts—standing tall, shoulders back, confident even when everyone turns to look at him.

  Al, next to him, grins wickedly and shouts even louder, “I’m always down for kicking rebel ass!”

  And Erik, on Jay’s other side, shakes his head with amusement before he too yells, “I’ll be right there beside you!”

  My heart swells with something I don’t have a name for when I look at the three of them. Even from a distance, they look so confident and resolute. Despite all the things I’ve lied to them about and all the trouble I’ve put them through, they’re still defending me. I want to be worthy of them. I want to be able to do the same for them.

  “I’m not about to let our friends’ deaths be in vain!” someone else shouts, and I see Amal on a different side of the room, just as strong as always, head held high. “I’ll keep fighting—for them! For everything they fought with us to protect!”

  The room starts to stir again, differently from any of the times before. All the captains, and then the Helpers, shout their support. And then it seems everyone from every part of the room is shouting or cheering or maybe crying—but raising their fists and yelling words that get lost in the noise but that all resound into one firm answer: We will fight. And this time, we will win.

  32

  JAY

  EVERYONE IS ASSEMBLED inside Sakchai’s Gate. The garage it leads out from is a huge space with running conveyor belts and large
crates stacked neatly around the room. A few transport vehicles crouch against one of the walls. The business owner herself stands resolutely with us—not a fighter intending to go with us, but prepared to see us off. She’s even turned the wide-open space around the Gate into a makeshift infirmary to treat anyone injured in the battle as quickly as possible.

  This means, of course, that she’s thrown off any public pretense of not being an ally of the Order. Her workers bustle around the room, preparing beds, medicine, and tools for the doctors Sakchai hired just for this. They all watch us, but the looks seem more tinged with curiosity and admiration than anything—looks I’m unfamiliar with. Several of them break off to speak with members of the Order.

  I catch Lai surveying our troops once more. Everyone wears a red strip of cloth in some way or another to differentiate themselves from the rebels; some with it tied around their upper arm; others, their leg; others still, around their waist. Many of our comrades are still injured from the last fight. However, most of the people here with us now are the ones who were left behind at Regail Hall during the last attack. People who are filled with a vengeance for their friends as well as fear at the prospect of facing the rebels who hurt them in the first place. Those who were injured in any way that would inhibit their ability to fight were left behind, no matter how much they wanted to come.

  All except Lai. Even with her major injury, she refused to remain in Regail Hall. No one could tell her no, much as we attempted. The only thing left was for us to resolve that we’d have her back in this upcoming fight. I won’t let anything happen to her again. We are going to make it out of this, victorious and alive.