by K. Makansi
“There’s still time. Give the order or I’ll shoot.” Aulion doesn’t respond. “You’ve got a C-Link,” I say, hoping like hell I’m right.
“Do your worst, Valerian.”
I press the fire extinguisher into his throat hard enough that his eyes start to pop out and he gasps for air. His lips turn blue and he kicks frantically against my legs. Then I see his eyes roll back into his head and I know he’s unconscious. I immediately let up on the pressure, but keep the fire extinguisher in position.
For an instant, everything is quiet. Then Aulion draws in a heavy, rasping breath. I can see the fine webbed lines of burn scars on the right side of his face and neck. With cellular reconstruction, most scars can be healed, but Aulion was too old when he was burned. I still don’t know how it happened. Soren hinted one time that he had some ideas, but he never shared them.
“I had every intention of leaving you for Soren to finish off—he’s claimed that task for himself—but if you don’t give the order right now, I’ll have to disappoint him.” Aulion starts to say something, but I shove the Bolt into his skull so hard it’ll bruise.
“Give the order,” I say, more quietly this time. “And I’ll let you live to fight another day.”
“I’m not afraid to die,” he says, his voice low and raspy. I can feel his breath on my cheek.
“You’re telling me you’d rather die by my hand than spare the lives of Sector citizens who did nothing other than raise their fists in protest?” He doesn’t say a word.
Everything is silent. I start to count.
“One.” I press the fire extinguisher into his throat again. “Two.” I press harder. “Three. By the time I get to ten, you’ll be dead. Four. Five.” His breath is once again coming in rasps. I add pressure with every beat. “Six.”
“C-Link, call them off,” he coughs. “I’m rescinding the kill order.” I exhale. I release the pressure on his windpipe.
“Again. Just to make sure.” Jeesh, I think, is he so lacking in imagination that he hasn’t even named his C-Link?
“I repeat, do not fire on the prisoners.”
Inwardly, I relax. His C-Link will relay the orders to the soldiers’ comlinks. An invisible weight seems to dissipate and float away. But I don’t move.
“I’ll give you a gift, General. Just for you. I’ll keep your little secret, that you contravened a direct order from the chancellor and decided all on your own to commit mass murder. Of course someone else may turn you in, but I won’t. Not just yet.”
His squints up at me. “Tell me how you knew.”
I ignore him. “I’ll keep your secret on one condition: you give the order to let the prisoners walk. Exile. Send them into the Wilds. Let them figure out how to survive, but don’t transport them back to the capital. Think that’s fair?”
“Fair?” Aulion smirks.
“All’s fair in love and war, General. This is a good deal for you.”
His voice is almost a growl as he relays the order to his C-Link.
“I can try to get a message to Eli to pick up the prisoners,” Demeter says in my ear.
I try not to smile, but can’t help it. “General, instruct your soldiers to transport the prisoners to the border exit at the Windy Pines perimeter on the southern edge of town. They are to enter the Wilds at the guard station there and keep walking due south.”
I feel his muscles tense and can practically see his mind working, trying to figure out what I’m up to, how to throw me off, how to get rid of me once and for all. “I’m waiting.”
Through a sick smile, with tears trickling from the corners of his fire-red eyes, he repeats the instructions. I don’t have much time before he makes a move. I can see it in his eyes.
“Goodbye for now, General.” I flip the switch on the Bolt to its lowest charge, pull the trigger, and his head falls back like a lead weight. It’s enough to incapacitate him, but not enough to kill. I stand and look around. All this time, not a soul has shown up in the lobby. Where’s my father? “Deme,” I say, “Is my father safe? Can you find him in the building?”
“I’ve been monitoring him. The meeting with the council members is not going well. But they’re all safe. It’s been less than fifteen minutes since I overheard Aulion’s order.”
“Can you find me transportation to the south gate?”
“There’s a hovercar at the back of the building. Probably one of the council member’s.”
I stick the Bolt in my waistband, then run toward the back of the building, hoping I can commandeer the hovercar and get to the border gate before the guards start asking too many questions.
“Vale, you’ve got three hours to get the prisoners out of Windy Pines. Get to the north shore of Lake Okaria at Coburg. Eli can’t risk getting any closer. Local SDF forces are transporting everyone to the border in an airship now.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
“Twenty minutes if you’re lucky, and if you can get the hovercar started, and if you drive like Miah.”
“I want to arrive alive, remember. Miah’s a madman.”
“I know.”
I can hear the smile in her voice. Some AI. What would I do without her?
As I approach the south gate, I take a good long look at the SDF transport airship sitting there all fat and happy. Luck is definitely on my side today.
“Listen up, Deme,” I say. “The transport is still here. If I can talk my way into getting the prisoners on it, we won’t have to risk Eli getting close to Sector airspace. If I can make this work, you and Eli can figure out new coordinates for our rendezvous. I don’t want to put him in danger if I don’t have to.”
“I can’t risk opening the communication line unless you’re successful,” she says. “I’ll stand by to contact him.”
There’s so much commotion at the south gate that the guards don’t even notice me. The prisoners are arguing, protesting their exile with the border sentries and the SDF. If only they knew that exile is a gift. One soldier stands guard at the door of the airship, but he doesn’t appear to be paying much attention. He’s got his nose in his plasma. I can take him out if I need to.
“Please, we have no supplies, no food, no blankets …” a tall woman with a kind, unassuming face pleads.
“I’m sorry, but my orders are clear.” The lieutenant, who appears to be the officer in charge, raises her voice. It drips with frustration. They’ve obviously been at this for a while. “It doesn’t matter to me what you did or didn’t do. You’ve been exiled by the orders of General Falke Aulion and I can’t do anything about it.”
Another prisoner steps forward. “You know Aulion has no right. Exile is illegal. How can you expect us to simply head out into the Wild with no accommodations for the elderly in our group?”
“You should have thought of that before you joined the Resistance,” the lieutenant says.
“We told you, we haven’t joined any—”
“Sympathizing with the enemy is the same thing. Now MOVE!“
I get out of the hovercar—which, to my great surprise, started with a swipe of my thumbprint, as if I had never left the Sector—square my shoulders, and walk toward the crowd. One hand on my Bolt, the other in the air.
“I suspected there would be trouble,” I say with more than a hint of disgust in my voice.
“Valerian Orleán?” My name ripples through the crowd. Heads turn with mixed expressions of awe and suspicion.
“Captain Valerian Orleán.” That promotion won’t last long. “I’m here on direct orders of the chancellor and General Aulion to make sure these people are immediately removed from the Sector.”
The lieutenant looks me up and down skeptically.
“I’ve been with the chancellor’s delegation. I was on the stage. I watched the protest, and despite your traitorous demonstration, you’re getting off easy. More drastic orders could have been given, but the chancellor has chosen to show mercy. Instead of imprisonment—or worse—he has sentenced
you to exile.”
“But exile is—”
“Save your breath,” I spit. “There is no mercy for Resistance sympathizers. I should know, and you should count yourselves lucky.” I turn back to the lieutenant, ignoring the protesters.
“I have orders to use this transport and take these citizens as far away from Sector territory as possible. I will return the transport to the airfield where I am to meet my father after the conclusion of the council meeting. Any questions?”
“But …” one of the soldiers with his Bolt still pointed at the workers speaks up. “First General Aulion said—” He stops short. “And then …” he trails off, confused. It’s clear he doesn’t want to repeat Aulion’s previous orders.
“General Aulion was mistaken. Surely everyone here—soldier and citizen alike—understands that Philip Orleán would never order the mass execu—” I stop short as if I’ve said too much, and let the threat hang in the air.
Faces blanch and muffled sobs escape from several prisoners.
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” The soldier says. He glances at the officer in charge whose brow is still wrinkled with doubt.
I take a step toward her. “You want to check with the chancellor personally, to verify my orders?” I bluff, gripping the butt of my Bolt. I nod toward the sentry post. “Shall I give you my father’s private number? Have you call and interrupt the council meeting?”
“That is not necessary,” she says, finally. “Do what you have to do. Just know that I will be recording all this in the logbook.”
“I would expect nothing less—” I look at her nametag—“Lieutenant Tremblay. Now, let’s load these traitors up and get them out of the Sector.”
“Yes, sir.” She steps aside, unwilling to question my authority.
“Round them up,” I say loudly to the nearby soldiers. “Get them in the transport.”
I guard the door as the prisoners, sixty-eight of them by my count, stumble, confused and scared, into the transport. There’s nothing I can do for Lyle or those the SDF are still trying to find, but I can get these people to safety. Once they’re all inside, I salute the lieutenant, palm the door closed, and turn to the prisoners. “We’re gonna have to move fast, so everyone find a seat and hold on.” I hurry to the cockpit, but there’s already someone sitting in the pilot’s seat: a rugged, gray-haired man with a square jaw and a deep cleft in his chin. He looks up as I enter.
“What are you doing?” I ask, nonplussed.
“Getting us out of here,” the man says. “Zeke said you were a good man. He said I could trust you.”
I trust you. Words my father said to me not even an hour ago. I never thought I would regret the chance to escape my parents, but now I wish I didn’t have to leave him. I wish we had an opportunity to talk, father and son.
“Zeke Sayyid?”
“He’s an old friend of mine from Ellas.”
“What a coincidence.” I settle into the co-pilot’s seat. “My best friend’s name is Sayyid.”
“You don’t say.” He grins at me.
“Can you turn off the tracking?”
“First thing I did.”
“Deme?” I say. “We’re in. Got new coordinates for us?”
“Hold on.”
While we wait, I survey the instrument panel. “As soon as we’re out of sight, activate cloaking. I think it’s high time we disappear.”
“Plot a course for old Toronto,” Demeter says. “It’s in a caution zone. Far enough out there won’t be many drones. Eli’s on the way with a Resistance airship so you don’t have to worry about being tracked.”
I plug in the coordinates and turn to the pilot. “Let’s move.”
“Roger that.” He sticks his hand out and I take it. His grip is firm. “Jamison Fitzpatrick at your service. Fitz, for short.”
“Valerian Orleán. Vale, for short.”
“Good to meet you, Vale.” He punches the intercom button. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.”
Fitz lowers us into a perfect landing, nearly nose to nose with Eli’s ship. He turns off the cloaking, and I’m out the door before anyone can move. The plan is to load the prisoners onto Eli’s ship. Eli brought Zoe and Firestone to scan the Sector ship for tracking devices and deactivate all Sector firmware. Once it’s safe to use, they’ll fly it back to the Resistance.
As soon as I disembark, Eli runs over to me. The first thing out of my mouth is: “Are you really better?”
“Good as ever,” Eli responds, hugging me. “Want me to prove it?”
I nod, and he pulls a small plasma from his jacket pocket. He opens a file on the plasma and a photo comes up: four smiling faces sitting on the dock at Kanaan’s house. Remy invited me to her grandfather’s house a few times so we could get out of the city. Eli has his arm draped over Tai’s shoulders, both of them smiling broadly. A younger version of me is sitting next to Remy, a sliver of sunlight between us. We were just friends then. It was on that same dock I kissed her for the first time.
“I open this photo up at least once a day,” Eli says, his voice soft. “Just to make sure. It’s one of my favorites.”
“I’ve never seen this before.” I can barely get out the words.
“I’ll make you a copy. Back at base.”
“I’d like that.”
“And since you brought her up, I’ve got news.” I perk up. “After her stunt with the Round Barn video—”
“That was her?” I’d suspected, but wasn’t sure. It seemed too risky, too dangerous. But then, Remy’s never shied from risk.
“Of course it was her. Who else had access to that footage? Anyway, she’s holed up at General Kofir Bunqu’s estate. He’s on our side. Can you believe it?”
I nod. This is no surprise. “He’s the one who gave Demeter back to me.”
“Soren and Osprey are headed there now. Osprey’s in touch with Remy’s Outsider contacts. They’ve got big plans and things are moving fast. Thought you might want to join them now that you’re persona non grata with the parents again.”
My heart flip flops at the thought of seeing Remy. “And just how am I supposed to get back into Okaria? We’re hundreds of kilometers away and we’ve got the prisoners to deal with.”
“I have a plan.”
“Are you going to share this plan with me?”
“Firestone?” Eli calls out. “It’s time to present Vale’s gift.”
“He's not gonna give me some of his vile homebrew, is he?”
“Vile?” Firestone appears from around the side of the airship, hunched over as if he’s pushing something. “Way I remember, you took to it just fine. All except for the green tint it gave you. And the headache. And were you the one with the dry heaves? I can’t remember.”
I shake my head and then pull him in for a hug. “Good to see you.”
“Yeah, yeah, enough with the weepy reunion. I’ve got something special for you from your Outsider buddies.”
“Chan-Yu?”
“Next best thing. Osprey is loaning you her—”
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a horse here. I’m out of practice.”
“Better. I’ve got her oiseau. Her fancy little hoverbike complete with the new cloaking shield we rigged up.” He reaches into thin air, feels around for something and then, voilà, there it is. The same hoverbike that Remy, Soren, Miah, and I followed to meet the Outsiders in the Wilds. “Still don’t know what to make of our Wayfarer friend, but apparently she and Soren don’t need this to travel undetected. It’s all yours.” He pushes it toward me.
“Here.” Eli hands me a v-scroll. “Directions to Bunqu’s from our coordinates here. Activated by your touch only. I recommend memorizing the map before you head out ’cause if anyone else so much as breathes on it, the whole damn thing erases itself. He’s called Onion, by the way. That’s his code name.”
“Read it after we’re gone,” Firestone says. He opens the bike’s only saddlebag and pulls out a helmet and coveral
ls. “Put this on. Once you’re outfitted, you’ll be invisible. Just press this button.” He points, and then hands me a key fob. Keep this with you and you can activate it at a distance.”
“Does Remy know? Has anyone told her I’m heading her way?”
“We figured you could surprise her. Soren and Osprey know. They’ll be expecting you, but probably won’t arrive much ahead of you.”
“And what about you two?”
“I’m working with Bear and Zeke on supply lines,” Firestone says, and looks at Eli expectantly.
“Well, Miah and I have plans of our own.”
“That sounds like trouble,” I say. “How is Miah?”
“He’s fine. Back at base making preparations.”
“For these big plans of yours?”
“Yup.”
“Is it a big secret?”
“Nope.”
“So …?
“You’ll see,” Eli says.
I clip the key fob to my belt and step into the coveralls. “You’ll find a kindred spirit in the pilot, Jamison Fitzpatrick.” I turn to Firestone. “He knows Zeke. And, based on our conversation, he’ll be able to teach you a thing or two about homebrew.”
I pick up the helmet, climb on the hoverbike, and look back at Eli and Firestone. “Thanks for keeping the faith.”
“Yeah,” Eli says, with a knowing smile. “Get out of here.”
11 - REMY
Spring 77, Sector Annum 106, 23h34
Gregorian Calendar: June 4
I stretch my back, rest my head against the paneled wall of the window seat, and watch as raindrops strike the windowpane and slide down the glass leaving a silvery trail behind them. Almost dusk. I love this part of the day. There is promise in every time of transition, a hopefulness that something awaits just around the corner. Before dawn, it is what will morning bring? When the sun hangs high in the noon sky, what will the afternoon bring? And at dusk, what will the night bring? The grey storm clouds slide lazily across the sky, darkening into a sort of charcoal blue as the sun sets behind them. My plasma sits open in my lap, a pen-and-ink drawing zoomed out so I can view the full image I’ve created. Raindrops fall from billowing clouds, turning into seeds that sprout as they reach the ground, blossoming into human-like shapes as they take root and grow.
