Weston considered him.
"I would advise that you try and help with the recovery as much as possible," she told him. "The president has been contacted, as have three other elite Knights stationed in the reaches of the Pale—men John knows. We're going to try to get his children back as quickly as possible. I'll make sure you're in on it."
Thomas blinked and glanced at her.
"Thank you," he managed in a whisper. She nodded crisply, and before he could say anything else, she got up and swiftly re-entered the apartment. Thomas swallowed and stayed where he was, gazing out over the night, pain throbbing through his hand.
John sat in a padded chair, not moving, in the spacious, sparsely-decorated seating room of August's presidential suite in Restoration Base, awaiting the president's arrival. He stared at the beige wall, his bare hand clasped in his gloved hand.
The door opened. He took a breath, preparing himself to stand to greet August.
Instead, three black-clad Knights strode through the door.
He stopped.
"James," he murmured. "Mill. Angel." He rose to his feet, his widened eyes searching their faces. "What are you doing here?"
Emmanuel James, a broad-shouldered, bald, towering, black-skinned man, strode forward and offered his strong hand. John took it, and grasped it tightly, the contact warming him just as much as James' reassuring smile and steady gaze.
"We were informed you were in trouble," James rumbled.
"But—" John started, his eyes flickering past him to Peter Mill, a lithe, hard-bodied man with white-blonde hair and ebony eyes. Mill reached out and took John's hand in both of his.
"The Scarlet contacted us, and then the president," Mill explained, glancing back at Matthew Angel, a serious, slightly-built, shorter man with ginger hair and sapphire eyes who stepped in and nodded solemnly at him.
"His Majesty’s Men have your kids," Angel stated, then shrugged. "We are here to help you."
John's mouth opened slightly, and his eyes darted back and forth between the gazes of his collegues. He finally reached for James' hand again, tightened his jaw and swallowed.
"Thank you," he gritted. "I..." John struggled to form words, still not letting go of James' hand. He searched their faces. "I don't know how much help I'll be."
"That's why we're here," Mill smiled. "What else are old fellow Traitors for, if not to shoot back when you get shot at?"
Scarlet Weston, President August, Sir Emmanuel James, Sir Mill Mill, and Sir Matthew Angel stood around one of the tactical tables in the war room of Restoration Base. The computer screens glowed, and three overhead lights that looked like surgical lamps created stark halos on the floor and on their heads and shoulders. The Knights, the President and the Scarlet spoke rapidly, listening intently when the others made cases but countering definitely when they discovered a flaw. Thomas stood away from them, his arms crossed, his expression distant.
Directly across from him, in the shadows of a corner, sat John Cannon, his elbow propped up on a table, his hand covering his mouth. He stared at the wall.
"So the boy does have a tracking device?" James leaned forward.
"Yes, according to Cannon," the Scarlet acknowledged.
"But was it activated before the Awakening?" Angel, leaning on the tactical, looked up through his hanging red hair to pierce her with his blue eyes.
"Maybe," Mill folded his arms. "They activate a squire student's tracking device at age twelve. He turned twelve before the Awakening, correct?"
The Scarlet shrugged. They all turned to Cannon. He did not even acknowledge they were in the same room.
"Sir John," August called. "Did your son turn twelve before the Awakening?"
John was silent. His finger tapped his cheek. Then he shook his head, once.
"No. He's only eleven."
They were suddenly stalled.
"So...it would have to be activated now," August guessed. "Could that happen...at a distance? Does he have to be in the room?"
The Knights considered for a moment.
"Er...No," James finally decided. "It's possible to activate it remotely. I know they made sure they could just activate all of them at once, instead of bringing all the cadets through individually."
"I know that the Knights had them, but I never learned all of their purposes. What was the motivation behind the tracking device?" August wondered.
"They had many purposes," Angel told him. "Most we didn't find out about until after we turned off the chip and got into the Novus computers. But it was mainly a security measure—if a Knight called for backup, and he was not near his vehicle, the device would pinpoint his location."
"Of course there were other, less pleasant reasons," Mill admitted.
"Yeah, like sending electric shocks to a Knight's brain with a push of a button on Mengalus's desk," James growled.
"You don't still have them inside you, do you?" the Scarlet worried. The three Knights near her shook their heads.
"No, we initiated a program in which they could have them surgically removed," August informed her. The Scarlet looked sharply at Cannon.
"But—was Benson's removed?"
Again, silence answered them.
Then, John barely moved his hand from his mouth.
"I wasn't sure about the safety of the procedure at the time," he confessed in a whisper. "So, no."
"Thank God for parental suspicion," August said sincerely.
"But if we turn it on to see where he is—" Mill warned.
"They may realize it," the Scarlet finished. They fell quiet for a moment.
"They may want us to activate it," Angel murmured.
They stared at him.
"Of course they do," John dropped his hand and turned his weary head toward them, but looked down at the floor. "They want to eliminate all the Knights that refuse to go back to the chip." He raised his eyebrows, but kept his gaze down. "But do we have a choice?" He met their eyes, and said nothing more.
John sat on a long bench in the bare metal hallway outside the main computer lab. He glanced at his watch for the fiftieth time.
Five in the morning.
He heaved a sigh, closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest, but he could not relax. The muscles in his back were so tense that pain was beginning to run up and down between his shoulder blades.
"Why is this taking so long?"
John's eyes flashed open and he sat up, sucking in a quick breath. He blinked swiftly, rubbed at his eyes and glanced to his left where the echoing voice had come from.
Angel, talking to James. They walked toward him, their black Knight's coats ruffling, their shoes clicking. James caught sight of John and nodded at him. Angel kept speaking.
"The hacker's been working all night—are we not paying him enough?"
"I guess it's harder than we thought to resurrect a program from the virtual graveyard," James guessed, easing down onto John's bench. Angel leaned back against the wall opposite them, crossing his arms.
"Well, whose brilliant idea was it to erase it in the first place?" Angel wondered.
"You know the answer to that," James rolled his eyes. "No one wanted to fall back into that hell. Practically everything having to do with the Novus kingdom was destroyed."
"Except us," John murmured. The other two glanced at him. But before they could speak, the doors to their right opened and Mill stepped through.
"The program has been uploaded," he sighed, coming to a stop near them. John leaped to his feet. Mill held up a hand.
"But he doesn't know how to use it."
John frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Mill shrugged.
"He has to acquaint himself with the procedure, now, because he doesn't want to permanently deactivate the tracking device, or activate any of Mengalus' pressure points."
John swallowed.
"How long will that take?" James inquired. Mill shook his head.
"Hard to tell. Once he figures it
out, he will have to run several tests. Maybe...four or five hours."
John went pale. He sat back down. Mill looked at him steadily.
"Don't worry. He's hurrying."
At long last, around noon, as all of them stood around the frazzled technician, Benson's tracking device blinked to life.
John read the screen, then turned around and sucked in his breath.
He now knew where one child was…
But he had no idea if either of them were still alive.
Absently, he heard the others discussing behind him.
"Amazing," April mused. August straightened.
"All right—we have our target. It's time we went on the offensive."
Angel, James and Mill began phase one of the operation that very afternoon: spying on the plant that was supposed to be making the Regulator chip for His Majesty’s Men. It was covert and very dangerous work, but after two days, they finally knew the shipping schedule, and were confident that, with more equipment, they could interrupt the chip if the need arose.
Meanwhile, Scarlet Weston, the President, and John discussed the layout of His Majesty’s Men headquarters. They only had sketchy details, which made August and the Scarlet uneasy. John backed up from the tactical and turned from it, taking out one of his guns and checking its ammunition.
"We have experience attacking places we've never been inside." He clicked his weapon shut. "It's just like one of our old raids."
"Except this time, instead of rebels with old, malfunctioning guns, we have fully-trained senior Knights," April pointed out.
John did not reply.
Chapter Seven
Night had fallen, shrouding the gently sloping hills in darkness. The clean wind felt unusually chill as he stepped out of the car and gazed up at the welcoming lights of the outpatient building. He slammed his door, then just stood there for a long time on the gravel. Slowly, his muscles tired, he stepped through the entrance.
"Something wrong, honey?" Gena asked as she helped him off with his guns. He managed a smile.
"I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a hard week."
"I'm sorry," Gena sympathized. "Miriam should be awake; actually, she's probably seen your car and is waiting for you."
"Thank you," John sighed, and headed toward the stairs.
As before, Miriam's door hung open, her lights on. He leaned his shoulder on the doorframe and glanced in.
She sat on her bed, on top of her covers, her legs stretched out before her and crossed, one ankle over the other. Her feet were bare, and she wore an ankle-length, white, lacy nightgown. In her bandaged arms, she held an infant, swathed in a light blue, fleece blanket. The baby looked up at her, blinking and unfocused. John recognized the look.
Miriam, her head turned toward the babe rather than the door, bathed in the soft light of the lamps. And she sang softly.
"I wish I was in Carrickfergus,
Only for nights in Ballygrant
I would swim over the deepest ocean,
For my love to find
But the sea is wide and I cannot cross over
And neither have I the wings to fly
I wish I could meet a handsome boatsman
To ferry me over, to my love and die
My childhood days bring back sad reflections
Of happy times spent so long ago,
My childhood friends and my own relations
Have all passed on now, like melting snow.
But I'll spend my days in endless roaming,
Soft is the grass, my bed is free.
Ah, to be back now in Carrickfergus,
On that long road down to the sea."
The baby's eyes drifted shut, and soon he was sound asleep.
John felt a strange sort of coldness settle down behind his sternum into his stomach. He searched her face.
I would swim over the deepest ocean for my love to find. But the sea is wide and I cannot cross over...
There was only one man she could be singing of.
And it wasn’t him.
His throat tightened, and an odd, nauseating sensation slid down his throat and tightened his diaphragm-a feeling he had not experienced for at least six months.
He made to hide himself.
Miriam turned her head, and her eyes found him.
He took half a step back. Her regard softened.
"Come in," she said quietly. "Once I get him to sleep, he usually stays that way."
Hesitantly, John entered.
"He doesn't hurt your arms?"
She smiled a bit.
"Oh, just a little. But he's worth it." She looked back down at the baby. "He's an orphan. His name is Adam. He and I sometimes have a little time to ourselves in the evenings." She stroked his delicate forehead with her fingers. His tiny brow creased, as if in concentration, which caused an inadvertent smile to flicker across John's lips, despite the dull ache somewhere behind his breastbone.
Miriam lifted her head to him.
"It's a late. Is something wrong?"
John shifted, his brow tightening, and he stepped around her bed to face the window. He didn’t speak for several minutes, but she did not push him. Instead, she merely waited.
"My wife died years ago. Executed as a traitor," he began, very softly, his gaze on the gravel outside. "But I have two children. Lily and Benson."
"Really? How old are they?" Miriam asked. John swallowed.
"Seven and eleven."
He felt Miriam nod, but she said nothing. Gently, she laid the baby down on the bed beside her.
"A few weeks ago," John went on. "My Socius and I went out to recover a Remnant, and found that it was burned." He took a deep breath and let it out. "After...discussing it with the Scarlet of Kent, we realized that many Remnants have been destroyed. It’s being done by a group of Knights called The King's Majesty Men, who have gone back to The Regulator."
Slowly, Miriam slid off the bed and soundlessly stood up. He kept talking, but didn’t look at her.
"Their leader and I had a confrontation—in the church where I killed my brother," John's voice thickened, and he folded his arms over his chest. "He told me that I couldn't live with myself, with what I had done, unless I returned to the chip." John glanced up, his eyes searching the sky out the window. "And then, when I was here seeing you the other night...they came to my apartment, ransacked my room and took my children."
"Oh," she whispered, and he heard her sit down on the bed. He gulped and rubbed the side of his chest.
"We...We managed to activate my son's tracking device, and we've pinpointed their location. Three other Knights are working on sabotaging His Majesty’s Men’s chip...and the Scarlet and I are going in tonight to try and stop the Knights. And rescue Benson and Lily."
Miriam said nothing. The silence hung heavy in the air.
He lowered his head, and his eyes unfocused.
"I am afraid, Miriam," he whispered. "I've never told anyone that, but I am."
"What are you afraid of?" she murmured.
He looked at her. Pain surged through his whole body.
"I'm afraid that they're right." He ducked his head, bit his lip briefly and shot an escapist glance out the window. "I'm afraid..." His voice shook. "That what I did as a Knight of the Novus condemns me—and that I shouldn't wish to have the life of my choosing. My children could be dead." His tone lowered to barely audible. "And I'm afraid I deserve it."
For a long moment, neither of them said anything.
Miriam bowed her head, then finally lifted her chin.
"Sir John," she said with gentle firmness. "Come here."
He turned to her, and she extended her arms. He quietly stepped over to her, and she grasped his elbows, looking directly up at him.
"What you did as a Knight, you did as an instrument of evil men. No, listen to me," she insisted when he glanced away and silver tears tumbled from his eyes. "You had no choice. You didn't know what it was you were doing—none of the Knights did." Her
grip tightened. "But here is the difference, John: once you did realize, you did the right thing. You made a choice, an extremely difficult one that took tremendous courage. You eliminated a tyrant, and set millions of people free. And then you had the strength to start to build a new life for yourself and your children." She rubbed her hand up and down his left arm. "You can do this, Sir John. And if I didn't think Gena would tie me to my bed if I said so, I would be right beside you." She smiled a little and held his gaze. "There is forgiveness to be had. All you have to do is accept it." She looked at him pointedly. "And then you have to forgive yourself."
A gasp tore through him, and more shining tears fell down his cheeks.
"Come here," Miriam bid him, reaching up toward his shoulders. Uncertainly, he knelt on the floor, and Miriam pulled his head into her soft bosom, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and stroking his hair. He yielded to her, embracing her warmth, feeling her lean the side of her face on the top of his head. She held him tightly, he returned the pressure, and together the Knight and the traitor wept.
The time had come. Three in the morning.
Angel had returned to Restoration Base to give a progress report, and after assuring the team that everything was in place and that the other two Knights would meet them, he hopped in one car and John and April climbed in another, leaving Thomas standing out on the curb, lit by the hollow light of a street lamp.
John did not acknowledge him, and stared at the dashboard. For a long moment, no one moved, and finally Thomas ducked into the passenger side of Angel's car.
April gave John a long look, the pressure of which he sensed all down the left side of his body, but he did not turn his head. Finally, April sighed and started the engine.
The drive took place in almost total silence. They made their way out of the city, through the eerie Pale, and then into the country. Soon, they entered a forest so thick that the moonlight barely penetrated the branches.
Gnarled, twisted trees hugged the winding road, leering over them as they passed quickly and quietly underneath. For the tenth time, John checked the position of each of his weapons. He wore a knee-length, black Knight coat, for camouflage and agility. He glanced over at the Scarlet. She wore her floor-length, scarlet coat, black trousers, boots and gloves. Her part called for anything but subtlety.
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