Fate of Order (Age of Order Saga Book 3)

by Julian North

  “I understand.” He pulled down his mask to reveal a smile. “I’ve got some other good news. We think we’ve come up with a way to get that chip off Alexander without killing him and treat the damage. It was actually the Waste research that gave me the idea. The same principles I was developing to combat that disease can be applied to augment the astounding progress they have made here on brain repair. They use genetic memory to help the mind repair itself. It’s already brought some functionality back to Alexander’s mother. Alexander’s brain damage is far more recent and localized than his mother’s. I think we have a very good chance of success, but time is working against us. The longer we delay, the more atrophied his brain becomes.”

  I was afraid to open my mouth. I didn’t want to lose control. It was so dangerous to hope. I merely looked at the floor.

  Nythan pressed the top of his head against mine. “You’ve done remarkable things, Daniela. It isn’t easy to do what you are doing. But you should know we are all here to help you whenever we can. We believe in you, me especially.”

  I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him over my shoulder as we hugged so he wouldn’t see my tears. They froze in an instant, and I wiped away the salty ice as we parted.

  “When?”

  “I’ll be ready tomorrow.”

  We changed and went back upstairs together.

  I went to sleep that night with a rare feeling of hope in my heart. It seemed impossible that something I so desperately wanted could actually happen, that I could finally make a difference helping those I loved. I should’ve known better.

  Chapter 23

  They came for me that night.

  I’d been too complacent, too wrapped up in my own emotions. I had let my guard down. My hands were tied, a restraint clamped my mouth shut, and a mask was placed over my head. I struggled, but only briefly. It was futile. There were too many of them, all stronger than me, all highborn.

  They put me on an aircraft, a fast one based on the sonic boom of the engine. At least I had a seat, even if I was strapped to it. They kept the restraints on my mouth, making attempts at conversation in either direction impossible. The voices around me indicated that there were at least three other people aboard, plus the pilots.

  “I apologize for these measures,” an older man’s voice said. “They are what had to be agreed to. We are making good time, and it won’t be much longer now. Hit your head against the seat twice if you need to use the bathroom. Beyond that, there is nothing I can offer to ease your discomfort.”

  I considered peeing on the seat. It would’ve served them right, but I wasn’t here for me. I had to stop being that petulant girl from Bronx City, even if it meant eating my pride. So I banged my head as instructed, and I peed with a bag over my head, my hands tied, and someone watching. It sucked, and someone would pay for that.

  The plane finally landed. We got off into warmer air—somewhere in southern California, I guessed. I didn’t think we’d flown long enough to be in Mexico. That meant we were no longer in Jobsian territory. I remembered Frost-Bell telling me how his identity had been traded to one of the other factions for favors unknown. I wondered if something similar had happened to me. I feared that I may have overplayed my hand with Yasoff. It had been a risk to share secrets with him, but I didn’t see any other way.

  I was guided along a tarmac and into an air-conditioned chamber. Beeps and humming and machine whistles sounded from different places as identities were verified and scans performed. The voices were gruff, untrusting of one another as well as me. Finally, I was escorted into an elevator. It took us down—I think far beneath the surface. The air was cool, like the inside of a cave. Whatever this place was, it was extremely secure.

  “Enough. Get that crap off her.” It was Dimitri Yasoff’s voice.

  I was quickly untied and unmasked.

  We were standing in a stone corridor lit by a long strip of tube lighting running down the rounded arch ceiling. Yasoff and the man who untied me were the only people present.

  “Walk with me as I explain,” Yasoff said. “Time is short.”

  I ground my teeth, anxious for answers and angry at my treatment. Yasoff noticed that.

  “I’ve misjudged you if you aren’t furious, but I hope your understanding of California political realities is sufficient for you to understand what has just happened and why. Your proposal is too dangerous to trust to electronic communications. And when the most powerful factions meet in California, this is the way it is done. When a stranger like you is invited, well… security goes to the next level. Transportation is handled by a delegation of non-Jobsian factions according to strict rules that everyone agrees to. I can offer an apology if it will make any difference.”

  “It won’t.”

  “Then I’ll save it for when it might. We are walking to one of the most secure rooms in California. The people inside it control most, if not all, of the power in California: military, thought-giants, unions, political factions. Such people have tight schedules and are not easily convinced of things.”

  “I shouldn’t need to convince them of anything. The realities of the world outside should convince them.”

  We came to a simple black door with an old-fashioned brass knob. “Indeed. Even I would not have been able to persuade them to convene this meeting if it was otherwise. They all see the danger, but in different degrees. They also all want something. You have impressed me, Daniela Machado, and that is a rare thing. You have also given me hope, which is even rarer. I’ve put myself and my faction at some risk to bring you here. Do not disappoint me.”

  Dimitri opened the door, motioning for me to enter first.

  Gathered around an enormous round table were the true rulers of California, single-person democracy be damned. I knew many of them from Kristolan’s memories, even before Dimitri began the introductions.

  Seated closest to the door was the nearly square form of Elios Wright, leader of the United Unions of California. Moving around the table clockwise were Jenn Ansel, head of the California Intelligence Directorate; Silas Marcon, President of the Thought Giant Consultative Council; and General Alfredo Lopez, Chairman of the Californian Defense Forces. Directly opposite me sat the skeletal figure of Dane Clarke, Governor of California, his expression a sour frown. To the governor’s immediate left were other heads of the competing military services, Leeland Block of the California Internal Security Forces and General Francis McClellan, the chief of California Border Security, with the final occupied seat filled by Antionio Kateras, leader of the People’s Party, which was just a fancy way of saying he held sway over the mob—the masses of unemployed, destitute, and angry that populated California’s cities. He was also the youngest person in the room save me, his jaw a perfect square, his eyes handsome in the manner of a fox.

  When the introductions were complete, Governor Clarke indicated the two remaining empty seats opposite him with his bony hand. “You are both welcome. Please sit.” His voice was a harsh rasp.

  All eyes watched me, some curious, some surprised, some hostile. To my right, Kateras’s lips were stretched with mocking amusement. My hands were slick and my ears buzzed, but I took comfort from the contempt Kristolan held for most of the people in this room. Only three mattered: the governor, Jennifer Ansel, and Kateras and his People’s Party. Yasoff already controlled the Thought Giants Council from within, the military already wanted to fight, and Ansel had the union boss in her pocket.

  The governor pulled a small canister no larger than a finger from his pocket and sprayed something into his mouth. His graveled cadence became honey. “I confess, I thought you would be older, Ms. Machado—not that we are against young prodigies in California. But I had thought it would take someone longer to become ‘a heinous criminal that all Americans should condemn.’ I believe those were the words in the official extradition demand.” There were smirks and chuckles around the room. Whatever these people might think of me, they had no affection for Virginia Timber-Night�
��s government. “Perhaps you should start by telling us why at least one of the so-called presidents hates you with such vehemence.”

  “Because I destroyed her slave-making facility, because I’m not highborn, and because she cannot control me. Most of all, because she considers me a threat to her, and she is correct.”

  I felt Jenn Ansel’s graze crawl over me as I pronounced the last. “You can control minds, we are told. You are the product of illegal genetic alteration—a triller or whatever you call yourself. Could you control my mind?”

  She wasn’t a highborn—indeed, several of the people in this room weren’t, but I sensed a trap. “I don’t know, I haven’t tried. I was told I was among people I could trust.”

  Dimitri leaned forward to speak. “I would remind everyone that California is not a signatory to the International Treaty on the Sanctity of Human Life, since the other nations do not recognize our sovereignty. Whatever was done to this young woman was done outside our borders—therefore she has broken no Californian law. Nor did she ask for it; it was done to her, not for her.”

  General Lopez placed a fist quietly on the table. Everyone stared at his hand. “The Manhattan government is threatening war if we do not hand her over. That is what matters, not legal details.”

  That is your opening. Goad him. It was Kristolan’s voice whispering to me. “War is inevitable, General. Virginia Timber-Night has promised to reunite the country. You can bet she means it.”

  The backs of the military men snapped straight toward the ceiling. As commander of the more formidable of California’s military forces, Lopez rushed to answer. “She’s bluffing—and we have faced down threats before. They have numbers, we have the technology. Our aircraft can fly rings around theirs without their even knowing. I assure everyone in this room that any attack will be repelled with extreme prejudice.” The other generals’ heads bobbed with lemming-like approval.

  “Have you ever met Virginia Timber-Night, General?” Ansel asked General Lopez in a soft voice.

  Lopez shrugged, the gesture laden with arrogance. “I don’t need to meet her.”

  “The Southern States amassed a formidable army,” Dimitri pointed out. “Yet it appears they are on the brink of total defeat. It took less than two weeks. Weapons are little help if your men change sides in the midst of battle.”

  The governor leaned toward me. “Is that what’s happening, Ms. Machado? Has the Manhattan government weaponized people like you?”

  I had everyone’s attention; they were afraid, despite General Lopez’s brave words. “I will tell you how they did what they did, but the knowledge will be of little good if all you intend to do is sit here. Or you can seize the one and only chance you may ever have to defeat Virginia Timber-Night and take back the entire country. She believes this is her singular moment of triumph—but in truth she has never been more vulnerable.”

  Governor Clarke sat back in his chair, arms crossed. “We do love drama here in California, and you have given us a fine build-up. You sit among patriots who would give their lives to see America as one nation again. Tell us.”

  I held my words, looking around the room, not at faces but at hands and arms. I smiled at what I saw. Kristolan knew how to command a room. I hoped at least some of her innate ability was with me. I stood, pushing up my sleeve as I did.

  “This is how Virginia controls people.” I pointed to the viser on my wrist. “Virtually every one of us wears them. Certain visers have been secretly engineered to function like slave control chips, except the impulses originate from the viser.”

  The room stirred with alarm. Several people spoke at once with the same question: “Which visers?”

  “The latest Tyrell prismPulse model.” I looked directly at the union boss, Elios Wright, at the glittering viser on his arm. “But they got the design illegally from NortelICE of California, which Virginia secretly controls. My bet is that the same tech is hidden in both devices.”

  Silas Marcon scoffed on behalf of the great California technology companies, but Wright ripped the device from his arm and flung it onto the table like it was poisonous.

  “Relax, Elios,” Silas said. “While I am hardly a chipping expert, I can assure everyone that the process necessary for brain cortex control cannot be accomplished without a direct, physical connection to the brain, and that connection must be continuous. The Koreans tried for decades to do it other ways—it is not possible.”

  The next part was a risk, but these people needed to be terrified as well as patriotic to do as I wanted. A demonstration was necessary: I trilled. “General Block, there is a wasp crawling up your left arm.”

  The general’s mind wasn’t as tough as some of the common soldiers I had overwhelmed back east; he easily became my puppet. His open palm came down hard on his extended arm. The room gaped. Dimitri nearly choked in panic—perhaps he believed I had gone too far, exposing him to danger. He might have been correct. I awaited the verdict from the rest of the assembly. I enjoyed the stunned silence and the confusion on Leeland Block’s face.

  “You were saying that it is not possible to control someone without physical contact, Mr. Marcon?” I challenged. “I assure you that it is possible, and Virginia has done it, with the help of the Koreans and at the expense of people dear to me. The new generation of visers are organic, are they not? They have been modified—mutated—to utilize principles similar to a trill. Special drones built by RocketDyn transmit coded instructions to the subject viser, which then builds the necessary control mechanism within the victim’s own genes. The devices are a portable, artificial triller—except they are even more powerful, because they can work on highborn. The trilling gene was the key to making it all possible.”

  The governor was on his feet. “General Lopez, I want an immediate confiscation of every viser manufactured by NortelICE—”

  Shouting erupted, anger mixed with shock and panic. I couldn’t make it all out. Marcon demanded proof, and compensation if there was to be confiscations. Someone was speaking about property rights. Ansel was shaking her head slowly, as if already weary at the madness of it all.

  Amid the uproar, I borrowed a tactic from Jalen’s book: I sat back down and spoke softly. “It’s too late for that.”

  About half the room heard what I said, or at least part of it. They stopped their conversation to look at me; the others quickly mimicked them, the fear of even worse news overcoming their initial panic.

  “What did you say?” the governor demanded. His voice had become a rasp once again.

  “It’s too late. The contaminated visers are organic. The modification is based on a virus, a very special one that can rewrite organic material. It spreads when visers of that model link with each other. Outside of California, organic visers are rare and expensive—only the highborn have them, which was what Havelock wanted—so the growth hasn’t been as quick. That’s the only reason the South has held out as long as it has. But every viser in California is organic. All your machines, your guns, your tech—it all depends on a user with a viser strapped to their arm. The mutation has spread, and now it is everywhere. Hundreds of thousands are already infected. You’re powerless.”

  Chapter 24

  There was a deathly quiet among most of the assembled. Only Marcon babbled on. “It is not possible, I still say the technology cannot exist.”

  “Enough, Silas,” Dimitri said. “I did a quick sample of the general population as soon as Daniela shared this information with me yesterday. There is at least a six percent infection rate among the visers of urban citizens based on my sample, and it is apparently spreading rapidly.”

  “This is a disaster. We have to put out a statewide alert for people to remove their visers,” the governor rasped.

  “That will bring the entire economy to a standstill, Governor,” Ansel told him. “Not to mention paralyzing our entire military.”

  The governor blinked several times. “Is that true, General?”

  Lopez’s jaw was pulsi
ng, but he reluctantly signaled that Ansel was correct in her assessment.

  “Now you begin to see what Virginia is. If she becomes aware that you know her secret, she will strike immediately rather than lose the advantage she believes she is building as the virus spreads. A statewide announcement is a mistake. But there is an opportunity here.” I scanned the anxious faces around me, meeting eyes in the manner Kristolan would have, letting people see my confidence, my control. “Virginia doesn’t know that I know her secret. It was the barest of chances that I obtained the viser that proved critical to this discovery, and even with it, we only understood the enormity of our discovery within the past day. For the moment, her resources are concentrating on crushing the Southern States. She doesn’t want a two-front war, or to have her secret exposed. For the next hours or days—however long the South can hold out—we have a chance to use her own weapon against her.”

  The emotional swing in the room was palpable. A moment ago these people thought they would be conquered, and now there was a chance to be the conquerors. They wanted it to be true.

  Ansel was the first among the group to grasp the outlines of my plan. “You want us to hack the code—those drones she’s using to transmit the signal.”

  “Yes, we can use her evil against her. If we can control the drones’ transmission, we can achieve total surprise. We can turn those she controls against her, or at least stop them from helping her anymore.”

  General Lopez shook his head with the confidence of a soldier talking his trade. “They will discover what we’ve done quite quickly. It will only work once, and for it to do any good there will have to be an effective army in the field. The South is too depleted. They might win a victory or two, but…” His eyes widened mid-sentence. “You want us to attack. You want California to join the war directly.”

  Decorum broke down again. Madness, some said. My eyes were on Jenn Ansel. She was studying the others carefully, counting allies in her head. Elios Wright’s voice rose above the general din.