The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution

by Michael Ivan Lowell

  “Look around, Paul. This country's rotting. Technology's gone backwards, inequality's soared. The Council profits off the misery. They block innovation by owning all the patents. You of all people should know that.”

  Ward thought about his wings, his two serums, and the blood accelerators that allowed them to work in one heartbeat. None of them could be marketed or mass-produced due to the Council’s control of the conceptual category they all fell under. Revolution knew that, too. The guy was scary smart.

  “You say you want to stop street crime?” Revolution continued. “Half the gangs in this town work for the Council. But Scott had the thing they fear most. The thing that could send their profits crashing. Bioluminescence is actually renewable energy. And we still hold the patent. We just need more time to make it work.”

  Revolution was excited suddenly. He pointed behind them. “Look!” It was the first time Ward had heard his voice slip out of that controlled middle range he used. Both men turned, and as if on cue, a team of Leslie’s scientists started shouting at each other. Ward had been so enthralled with the conversation he hadn’t noticed them. The Fire Fly chamber was visible through the doorway, but Ward had had his back to it. Now he could see clearly that in the middle of the chamber was a small burning sun. Yellow-green. The glow was pulsing bright to brighter. Both men swiveled in their chairs to watch.

  And then it began to shift to red. The scientists seemed to go into crisis mode. They started to panic about something. Revolution’s body language told him nothing. Stoic as always.

  Just then, the orb pulsed from red to white and there was a bright flash of energy. The lead scientist darted across the room. He slammed the shutdown button. The orb fizzled into darkness, and the team breathed a very visible sigh of relief. Revolution turned back to Ward, having never changed his body language. “It’s rarely boring around here.”

  Ward raised his eyebrows, nodded. He needed more information to have a debate with this man. None of the assumptions he'd had about the Revolution or the movement he represented had proven to be true. Alison had already told him about the gangs and the Council, so that wasn’t a surprise, but the rest of it...

  He leaned back in his chair and again marveled at the large lab. Maybe it was time to explore another avenue of inquiry. “How the hell do you afford all this? I thought the insurgency is run on a shoestring budget?”

  “In a way it is. But we have a large science division. A lot of those scientists that went missing after the Council was established? They work here.”

  “They faked their own disappearances?”

  “In some cases. Others were just presumed to be taken. The Purge was useful in that respect. The Council only tolerates the science that it likes, so naturally, we're a much better alternative.”

  “So the Council gets no results with a big bureaucracy and high salaries while you guys are on the cutting edge with no resources and beans and rice?”

  “They get results, trust me. They have brilliant people working for them. It’s all about profits for them. Battle armor, for instance, has never been made up to the level it could be. It's not cost-effective to mass-produce, not profitable, so the Council is never going to do it. And we”—Revolution waved his arms about, indicating the Resistance movement—“can't make a lot of it because we don't have the Council’s resources. But for one person, we can do that. We can keep them supplied with whatever they need. A team of supersoldiers and spies, for us, is doable. That's the bottom line. We have people in every major city.”

  “The hero movement. That's you?”

  Revolution nodded. “Only some of it. Most of it just happened organically. Every now and then, though, we’ll make contact with someone or recruit them.”

  Ward thought about that. If the Council used the gangs and the heroes were fighting and disrupting the gangs, then the hero movement did take on the Council. In a way. But no one would ever know who was trying to take down the gangs just because they hated crime, and who was doing it because they were actually working for the insurgency. No wonder Revolution had told Ward to go help the hero movement. Either way, Ward would have been helping him. Genius.

  “But like I said, we’re in other institutions as well,” Revolution was quick to add. “Even the Council’s organization itself. They have many disgruntled employees. Like your friend, I suppose,” he said, meaning Alison. Ward nodded. “We run things democratically. That’s the difference. What they have is oppression. What we have is a crusade.” Revolution glanced through the doorway and saw something that made him stop and take notice. Fiona was looking at him again. “And some of us have to sacrifice everything.”

  CHAPTER 30

  The hour was late. Ward was long gone. The regular workforce had turned in for the night. It was a Friday, and even some in the insurgency took weekends (besides, if they were really needed, a thousand workers would be only a few floors away). A skeleton crew worked the active parts of the building.

  Revolution slipped into a small storage space just off the lab where he kept spare parts for both his armor and the Fire Fly chamber. During his conversation with Ward, his armor's internal monitoring system had warned him that the absorption unit was malfunctioning and needed a diode replacement.

  The Revolution's armor could actually absorb a charge of energy and store it. If need be it could then release that energy to withstand another charge or to use as a weapon—something he had used to devastating effect against that tank so many years ago. Sort of like technological-superhero-judo, he thought. Scott had designed it to prevent the Revolution from being electrocuted, either accidently or otherwise. Were he struck by lightning, for instance, the Revolution could actually store the energy and use it later as a weapon.

  The special diodes that Scott had invented were the key to the system. They acted like traffic signals, telling energy where it could go and when it could be released. And they could store an enormous amount of energy. If needed, the diodes could also redirect any stored energy into powering the suit. Though he did have his own perpetual battery that powered his armor—another of his closely held secrets. Without the diodes, though, it was even possible for the suit to become a danger itself. Revolution had to fix it.

  He'd been in the small room no more than fifteen minutes when Fiona slipped in behind him. He was not facing her. Nor did he turn to see her. Still, he knew she was there. His helmet contained a contiguous mirror device that shot images from all angles back to his visors. This allowed him to see 360 degrees at crucial moments. A similarly placed motion detector helped to sense nearly all movement around him, even at far distances. Fiona knew none of this.

  She didn't speak to him when she entered. She just began dusting the equipment. Something she did frequently these days anywhere he was. Even if she'd dusted there the day before. The silence grew increasingly awkward. Finally, she stopped, turned.

  “Sir, why don't you ever talk to me?”

  Revolution snapped the final diode into place and closed the cover on his arm plate where they were housed. “I don't talk to anyone.”

  “I see how you look at me. I'm not stupid.”

  “It's not that simple.”

  “Why isn't it?” she asked. He said nothing but pretended to work. She approached him. She was being bolder than she had ever been. He hadn't allowed himself to be alone with her in the many months since this behavior had started. Now that he had, she took advantage. She stopped a foot short of him and looked up with her beautiful eyes.

  Waiting. Patient.

  He couldn't take it. “You don't understand the sacrifices I have to be ready to make.”

  “No, I do. I—”

  “You really don't.” He winced inside his helmet. He'd sounded harsher than he'd meant to.

  “Okay, but...and I know you're a hero to...like, everybody... but I see how you suffer.” Fiona moved to his side and slipped her hand onto his chest. She ran her fingers across the titanium grooves of his armor. “How alone yo
u are. I understand that. I know you make great sacrifices. And maybe I can't know them all”—her voiced deepened and she nearly purred—“but I know enough.” With that she slid her thin frame in between him and the worktable. “I may be young, but I know enough.”

  They leaned toward one another for a moment—but Revolution pulled away. “Fiona...I'm old enough to be your father. I knew your parents.”

  “And I'm old enough to know the difference.”

  She pressed her body forward. Her hands rode up the chest plate, over the red star, up onto his helmet. The metal was warm and smooth and hard. She felt electricity, her own electricity, course through her just being so close to him. Touching him.

  Her thin legs straddled one of his. The heat of the armor moved through her. She caressed his face as if searching for a seam in the mask.

  Tenderly, he spoke. “I can't let you... No one—”

  “I know. I wouldn't ask you to.” She leaned up, pressing her young body against the hard armor, and kissed his mouth guard. He could feel the heat of her breath through its slots.

  “Wait,” he said. Fiona's hopes fell. But then the guard parted like a curtain opening, sliding inside the helmet. His lips were full and wide; his face was ivory pale.

  She lunged for him. They embraced. Their mouths closed on each other, and their tongues met. Lapping at each other. Slow but ravenous. She moaned into his mouth as her passion began to overflow. His mouth tasted like cinnamon, hers like bubble gum. He pulled away and smiled. “We could leave here,” he said. “Go somewhere safe.”

  “I'm always safe with you,” she said. “You lead, I'll follow.”

  Then he took a step back, and his shoulders fell. “But I can't. Leslie's gone, and I can't reset the luminescence.” Each night a dangerous procedure had to be applied to the laser trigger in the Fire Fly chamber. The same gun he had tested on the steel block earlier. To keep the energy prepared for transference to a human, the gun had to be constantly charged and reset. Any lull in the process could set them back months.

  Fiona was crushed. It showed all over her face. Revolution thought she might cry. “It's my armor. The electronics will interfere. I have to stay and monitor the levels. I'm sorry.”

  Her face brightened, and she nearly shouted, “I could reset it!”

  “No, it's too dangerous.”

  “I've seen Dr. Gibbons do it. I know how, really.”

  Fiona stood in the Fire Fly chamber, adjusting the levels of carefully calibrated digital readouts. Each represented radioactive energy that if tweaked in the wrong direction, at the wrong speed, could rip the canister open and expose her to a lethal blast of energy. It was the only part of the process that was dangerous. Once the luminescence was produced, it contained a harmless amount of radioactivity. The complex circuitry in the Revolution’s suit could play havoc with the digital settings, so despite his knowledge of the system, he could not adjust the settings, only monitor them from afar.

  “That's good. Just go slow.”

  He and Fiona were alone in the expansive lab. Revolution backed out of the chamber and closed the door carefully and quietly. He clicked the lock. Fiona was reciting the steps she was to make aloud—the carefully choreographed sequencing that Leslie had developed for optimal energy production.

  “Good, very good,” he said. “Now double-check each one to be sure.”

  With the door shut and locked, he marched for the console, his cape billowing behind him. When he reached the console, he grabbed the main levers and jammed them forward into place. As Fiona set each segment's degree he would lock its corresponding lever forward into its engagement setting. As he watched and waited for her to reach the last degree, a voice came from behind him.

  “What are you doing?”

  It was Leslie. Her face was a map of confusion. Fiona was in the chamber and the door was locked. That fact was obvious from the warning lights that glowed at the top of the chamber on every side: red lights indicating lockdown. Fiona's concentration was such that she hadn’t even noticed.

  Revolution turned his head just enough to acknowledge her presence. His voice analyzer had already confirmed her identify, and his helmet-cam had seen her coming the moment she'd entered the lab. “What is necessary.”

  “Oh my God...”

  CHAPTER 31

  Leslie rushed forward.

  Fiona was still unaware she was locked in.

  Leslie looked at him, the shock hanging all over her face. No one knew the Revolution better than she. He was intensely private. He did not care to have personal relationships. Whoever he had been, whoever he had loved before his transformation, he had given all that up. Their relationship was built on necessity. She knew that. He worked with her, was friendly with her, because he had no other choice. She knew he could be cold. That everything he did was in service to the war he was waging.

  But this...

  This was something altogether new.

  He could sense her distress. “There're no more volunteers. There's no one left to ask. I have no choice. It's time for the draft.”

  Revolution pushed the final lever forward and pressed the activation button down.

  Leslie raised her eyebrows, and she peered out at the young girl just now relaxing from her intense task. “The girl is special,” she said, realizing what he had meant all these months. Or years? How long has he been planning this?

  A low hum permeated the room. Fiona heard it too. She stopped. Glanced around. For the first time, the teenager saw the red warning lights at the top of the chamber.

  Danger. A cold chill ran down her body, and she spun to face the console. Panic all over her face. Her eyes locked on the Revolution.

  “I'm sorry, Fiona,” he said into the intercom. “I couldn't wait for your permission.”

  Fiona bolted for the door. She slammed into it. Pounded her fists into the reinforced glass. Tears streamed down her face. Her body shook with the powerful sobs. Her sense of betrayal was overwhelming. “Let me out! Let me out!” she cried.

  “You'll have unlimited power,” Revolution said. “You'll win the revolution for us.”

  Fiona was having none of it. The sound of his voice booming over the chamber intercom simply set her off even more. She sobbed like a child. “Let me out! Please! Let me ouuuuuuut!” She collapsed to the floor, sliding down the glass door. Then just stopped. Silent for a moment. No tears. No sounds. Her eyes grew wide. She spun toward the laser. If she could reverse the settings fast enough, she could stop him from activating it. Smart kid.

  She lunged for it.

  Just as she reached it, a blast of yellow-green energy erupted from its center. The laser lens gleamed with white-hot power. The surging energy lifted her off her feet. She flew into the air. And stopped.

  Suspended by raw energy in the center of the chamber. Residual power filled the room and then, as if drawn to her body, lasered back into her splayed-out form. A cyclone of bioluminescent energy, growing in power, filled the entire chamber.

  “My God,” Leslie said again, wide-eyed in horrified wonder.

  Revolution checked the gauges like a man possessed. “It's working! This time it's working!” Fiona's body began to glow; her hair spread out around her in a shining radiance. No more panic, but her mouth and eyes were open wide as if she was trying to scream. The chamber blasted its light like a sun. Revolution and Leslie had to turn away as the power and the intensity increased.

  Then it all went black.

  Across the facility the lights went out.

  Across the city the lights went out.

  Then, haltingly, blinking back to life, the lights in the lab returned.

  Fiona lay naked, huddled on the floor. Her clothes burnt away. Leslie's eyes filled with tears. “She didn't make it!” Leslie felt a deep affection for the girl. She had grown up right in front of her. Leslie had no children of her own. Fiona was like a surrogate daughter. There were many in the compound who felt that way. A few moments earlier she would h
ave counted the Revolution in that group.

  “Wait!” he said. He raced to the chamber, flung open the door. But she was out. He rushed to her side. Her long, blonde hair was draped over her face. He moved it back and listened as he watched for her chest to move. His advanced parabolic microphones caught her breathing at the same moment he saw her chest move up and down. He reached out his palm and held it over her neck. Sensors in his suit began to read her blood pressure. It was slightly elevated but nothing worrisome. He had checked her basic health many times without her knowing it. Another benefit of Scott's design. Her skin was not blotchy and it was a good color. There were no burns, nothing to indicate trauma.

  “She's alive,” he said.

  Revolution bent down to pick her up. He peered into her face. That lovely face that so many had admired. From the time he first saw her when she was just a child, she had always seemed angelic. She looked so now. And she had a brilliant mind in that head of hers. He marveled at her, as he had done so many times before.

  And then her eyes flew open. Her pupils burned the yellow-green color of the energy. Raging at him. That, and the furious anger in her face, startled him. He stopped cold. His blood ran the same.

  “Don't you touch me!” Fiona hissed at him, the vitriol staccatoed on every word.

  Revolution backed away. He felt a very uncommon emotion wash over him.

  Fear. “Okay. It's okay.”

  Leslie raced to his side. Revolution wondered if she was more concerned about Fiona or him.

  “All right, honey, just take it slow. Are you hurt?” she asked.

  Fiona said nothing. She just glared at them.

  “Just let me make sure you're not hurt,” Leslie said. She reached out and took her arm to help her up. But Fiona screamed in agony. She scrambled away from them, keeping herself covered, one arm over her breasts, the other cupped between her legs. She felt humiliated, betrayed, and pain raked her body from head to toe.