Resistance: Divided Elements (Book 1)

by Mikhaeyla Kopievsky

  Within herself, she feels that pull to the fight – a rage simmering in the depths of her belly, yellow bile churning in her gut. The fire threatening to bloom.

  Striding closer, she ignores the suspicion and anxiety in the faces of the Water Elementals. They move aside for her readily, keen to distance themselves from the impending melee.

  In the centre, limbs flail wildly as a small group of Earth Elementals trade blows. The grunts and sharp cracks of breaking bones carry in the otherwise still morning air. Earth Elemental onlookers regard her with cold stares, inconvenienced by her mission and tense with the decision to join the fray or comply with the Orthodoxy.

  Anaiya’s rage notches higher, flickering at the edges of her mind and presenting her own alternative, Unorthodox options. She imagines breaking the nose of the nearest Elemental with a swift palm heel strike, removing the male in front of her with a sharp leg sweep. The images flare bright and brief in her mind’s eye; it takes her a second to clear them. It is one thing to respond with appropriate force, another to lose control of the Fire and vent her aggression.

  “Clear it out,” she yells, plucking a syringe from her belt and zoning in on the core group of rumbling Elementals.

  The crowd pauses around her and, for a brief moment, Anaiya has the uneasy expectation that the weight will shift against her – that they will not only ignore her directive but actively target her.

  She sucks in a deep breath and lets her eyes sweep the crowd for signs of rebellion. The range of human emotion present in animated eyes, drawn faces and set stances sends synthflies to her stomach. A slight sweat pricks at her forehead and palms, her feet tingling with the need to urgently do something.

  And then the weight evaporates. One by one, the spectators look away, dropping their eyes and relaxing their stances.

  Needing no further invitation, Anaiya rushes to the four at the centre of the mass, restraining the closest with a quick injection to her straining neck. A smaller male, with deep scars peeking between new gashes, turns to face her, but she arrests him quickly with the flourish of another syringe, its needle finding its target high in the arm that reaches for her neck. He drops heavily, falling into the third offender, sending him toppling into his opponent. The two crash to the pavement awkwardly, presenting Anaiya with easy access for restraint.

  A little breathless, she looks around again at the crowd. Few Water Elementals have stayed to witness the event, but a large group of Earth Elementals stand stubbornly at the periphery of the circle she has created.

  “I said, clear out,” she yells again. Her voice is louder this time, but still unsteady.

  One by one they disperse, but not before muttering curses and obscenities in her direction. She watches them warily. Ignoring the temptation to cite them for a Code 8 offence, she connects her lifeline and patches a call for backup.

  A movement at her feet draws her eyes down. One of the offenders is murmuring, the product of a misplaced syringe or resistant biology. Images of a sharp heel strike to his offensive skull tease at the edges of her mind and, for a moment, the raging fire within her pushes her to engage.

  It lasts only a second, the temptation of Unorthodoxy winking out as quickly as it emerged. She exhales a shaky breath and reaches down with a new syringe, watching as the restraint serum silences the Elemental beneath her.

  * * *

  IT IS LATE by the time she returns to her apartment. Twice she was called out to assist other Peacekeepers, twice confronted with the same struggle for restraint and Orthodoxy.

  In the older Fire Elementals it had appeared as impatience – a crankiness that drew deep lines in their foreheads and tension at their fists. But, in the younger Peacekeepers, it had been more visible – freshly fed, it rose quickly to the surface as an adrenalin-fuelled rage, an ego-led aggression.

  Rubbing at bruised skin and tired muscles, she glances at her tattered lounge. Normally, she would zone out after a hard patrol in front of the wallscreen, but the face of Joshu 820/Kane 148 already stalks her in her lucid and dreaming states. Instead, she changes into a pair of dark kevlar jeans and a simple cottonex shirt and steps out into the city under a darkening sky.

  Her agitation sets her feet at a quickened pace and for the first time in what seems like forever, she unleashes her fire in the free-run.

  Arriving at Precinct 13, Anaiya walks up to the unmarked Wild Rover door, passes her wristplate over the handle and pushes. Inside, the izakaya is brightly lit with lines of fluorescent globes streaking across the high ceiling. Anaiya pivots away from the entry and heads straight to the bar.

  It is still early and only a handful of Fire Elementals fill the space, drinking synth alcohols and sitting at tall tables, watching avatar sports on sectioned wallscreens. She stands next to a small group of Infrastructure Protectors, who speculate loudly about whether their factories of responsibility are next to be targeted for the theft of viscous synthetic dyes dripping Heterodoxy on Otpor walls.

  “What can I get you?”

  Anaiya turns back to the bar. A tall Earth Elemental, a generation older than her, addresses her with a scowl. Anaiya frowns, but quickly shakes it off.

  “A dodeca,” she replies, plugging her lifeline into the bar terminal to pay.

  The bartender returns with a large glass tumbler. The blue liquid fizzes as the enhancer crystal hits its surface and sinks. Anaiya nods her thanks and takes the glass to a small corner table against the far wall. The drink, a favourite among Peacekeepers, combines a mild alcoholic sedative with a crystal edrazine enhancer – the cocktail triggering rapid-fire hits of dopamine and oxytocin in the brain. Anaiya takes a few sips and then sits back to let the chemicals do their work.

  With each passing minute, she can feel the agitation and anger leach from her body. The fire in her belly cools from a white-hot rage to a single flickering flame. With her glass now half empty, the dodeca has lost its bitter taste – her tongue now numbed to the harsh chemical residue.

  Around her, the cavernous space fills with Fire Elementals as various corp shifts come to an end. A young male Peacekeeper, still in his kevlar uniform and standing alone, catches her eye. Tall, angular, good muscle tone.

  Finding Anaiya’s gaze, he flashes a confident smile and, minutes later, he saunters towards her. Reaching the table, he towers over her, blocking the harsh light and sending her into shadow.

  Anaiya doesn’t react, watching calmly as he extends his left hand, proffering another glass of dodecahedrazine. She takes it from him as he raises his own drink. Without breaking their gaze, he clinks the glass softly against Anaiya’s and raises it to his lips, draining half of it.

  Anaiya pauses, appraising him. Two years out of training, he is confident and cocky. His eyes glitter with the edrazine and a hint of a smile plays on his lips. He is attractive enough.

  Anaiya finishes what is left in her glass and stands. He puts his empty glass on the table and looks at Anaiya. She nods. He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off. “Your place.”

  Without waiting for his reaction, she strides towards the door – but before she reaches it a figure steps in front of her.

  “Sorry, Ani, no playtime tonight.”

  Niamh looms before them, no fun and all business. The young Peacekeeper attempts to step forwards, but Anaiya places her hand against his chest, keeping her eyes on Niamh.

  Niamh shakes his head at him and Anaiya feels the young Peacekeeper hesitate before he finally retreats.

  “So, you’ve deigned to be seen among the plebs,” she says, eyeing the golden circle around his flame insignia, the mark of his promotion.

  Niamh turns his bemused glance from Anaiya to the retreating Peacekeeper. “And I find them wanting.”

  “Jealous?” Anaiya quips, her voice soft with the dodeca.

  Niamh ignores her poor attempt at a joke. Fire Elementals are competitive, but basic emotions like jealousy are reserved for Air and Earth Elementals.

  “How many have you h
ad?” he asks.

  “Two,” she replies. “Both in the last hour.”

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small atomiser. “Here,” he says, handing it to her.

  Anaiya takes it from him and sprays two sharp bursts of liquid adrenalin under her tongue. She feels the fog of the dodecahedrazine begin to lift as she works her mouth to get rid of the metallic taste the adrenalin has left behind.

  “Good?”

  She nods. Niamh opens the door for her and she walks through without looking back.

  Where have you been? What else have you learned? Why haven’t you made contact?

  The questions hammer through her sobering mind, but she doesn’t speak them aloud. If Niamh wanted her to know the answers, he would have already offered them.

  “Keep up,” he throws over his shoulder as he breaks into a sprint.

  * * *

  THE HAZE of the Wild Rover dissipates as the adrenalin hit pushes Anaiya to run faster. Despite Niamh’s early lead, she catches up to him easily and settles into a synchronised rhythm, matching him stride for stride. They are not competing tonight.

  Niamh takes a westerly direction, away from the Command headquarters, and she briefly wonders where they are headed. When they pass the Eastern Area boundary, Anaiya frowns in his direction but maintains her silence and her pace.

  The tall administrative buildings of Precinct 8 rise before them like emblazoned spears, their glass structures lit with hundreds of strontium aluminate pods. The streets are quiet, with only a handful of Water Elemental Technicians and officers still working; it’s only two hours before curfew commences.

  In front of her, Niamh leaps and pivots off a low-rise wall. Anaiya follows instinctively. When she lands, she finds him waiting for her at the entrance of a nearby building.

  “This is a Sec Level 5 briefing, Ani,” he says quietly before plugging his lifeline into the wall terminal.

  The glass double doors slide apart with a sharp hiss. Her adrenalin levels spike again, despite the synthetic residue from her previous dose having long expired. Level 5 is the highest level of secrecy for classified missions and operations. She nods her understanding and passes through the doors in front of him.

  The inside of Water Elemental buildings are unfamiliar. With the Eastern Area made up primarily of industrial and cheap residential precincts, the sterile and orderly interiors of the administration building provide stark contrast. Their boots hit the polished floor with dull thuds. He doesn’t speak and Anaiya again resists questioning him.

  They continue like this, striding along the empty corridor in silence, until they reach a small, unmarked door. Anaiya scans the wall for the terminal, but none is to be seen. She watches Niamh approach the door, expecting him to swipe his wristplate over the handle. Instead, he knocks three times in rapid succession. He pauses and looks back at Anaiya. Then, with a sly grin and a wink, he knocks twice more.

  Incredibly, the door clicks open to reveal an empty stairwell. Following Niamh through the doorway, she closes the door shut behind her. Inside, she notices a small electronic gauge, its display screen running an erratic line across its width.

  “Ani, what –?”

  Anaiya blinks as the gauge registers Niamh’s voice, sending a series of spikes in the display line. Surprised by the new technology, she taps the wall next to it three times, seeing the sounds as medium-peaked spikes on the display, then another two times. The door behind her clicks open.

  “Ani, what are you doing?” Niamh asks, exasperated. “Let’s go.”

  Anaiya sighs in frustration, but pushes the door shut and meets him on the stairs.

  “Try to keep the noise down until we’re up two flights. After that it’s sound proof and we can run.”

  Moments later they enter a dark, narrow hallway punctuated only by a small pool of fluorescent light that spills from under a closed door. Anaiya follows Niamh silently as he strides down the hallway and enters the floodlit room.

  It takes her eyes a while to adjust to the brightness and she blinks rapidly until, slowly, details emerge.

  The room is windowless and sparsely decorated. Wallscreens blink off at their entry, leaving faint memories of maps and faces and rows of text. An older Elemental sits behind a large desk, its surface glowing as she scrolls through and taps away. The light illuminates the embroidered insignia on her jacket collar – three spheres connected in a broken triangle. The molecular structure of water.

  A Commander.

  “Sit,” the Commander says, not looking up.

  Anaiya and Niamh take a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

  “This is a Sec Level Five briefing,” she continues. “Please present your lifelines to the terminals in front of you to disable recording functions.”

  Anaiya and Niamh plug their cables into the row of terminals in front of them. A quick beep and a small green indicator light tell them the operation has been processed. They disengage from the terminal and wait.

  After a few moments, the Commander looks up. Her eyes flicker from Anaiya to Niamh and then back.

  “Anaiya 234.” Her voice is strong and commanding.

  Anaiya is unsure of whether the address is a statement or a question, so she nods.

  “Peacekeepers and Neural Technicians are initiating a joint Task Force to combat the recent episodes of Heterodoxy.”

  Anaiya blinks, caught off-guard by the unusual pairing. Fire and Water partnerships are not uncommon – both Peacekeepers and Border Watchers have always worked with Water Elementals to gain access to technology, complex data analysis and target profiling. But never have these partnerships involved Neural Technicians, the Water Elementals responsible for testing new generations and conditioning Premies.

  The Commander continues, oblivious to Anaiya’s confusion. “Despite current surveillance and profiling attempts, we have been unable to narrow down our search to a specific group of Elementals. We have, however, achieved ninety-five per cent certainty on which Element, precinct and competency the perpetrators belong to. Despite this success, we do not have enough to identify and detain the core of the Resistance.”

  She pauses and fixes her stare on Anaiya. “And so we must take additional and radical steps to succeed in our endeavours. Deputy Commander Niamh assures me that you are a Peacekeeper of the highest calibre – obedient, adaptive, dedicated, et cetera. He had no hesitation in recommending you for this mission.”

  “What mi–?”

  The Commander glares at Anaiya, stopping her mid-question and continuing as if there had been no interruption. “Recent technological advances in neural testing and conditioning present us with an opportunity to identify the perpetrators by infiltrating their environment. As one of them.”

  Anaiya’s mind stutters over the words, struggling to understand what they mean. Neural testing and conditioning are for Premies entering the last year of their first lustrum. With the four-year-old mind exhibiting maximum plasticity and cognitive potential, it is the perfect age for determining elemental alignment.

  Anaiya finally grasps what the Commander is proposing. “You want to change my alignment.”

  FOUR

  TIME IS no longer the fluid, dynamic thing that Anaiya knows it to be. It slows and stretches, even as her mind races.

  Changing one’s alignment is impossible. Is anathema. Heterodox.

  Tiny beads of sweat set her skin itching and a dense nausea drags at her stomach – that same feeling of abject misery she had felt at finding the first mural rushes over her.

  The Commander betrays no recognition of Anaiya’s discomfort. “I want to have you tested to see if you are compatible for realignment. And then, if you are compatible, I want to temporarily realign your limbic brain to provide a neural disguise that will allow you to infiltrate the Air Element under investigation.”

  Anaiya glances at Niamh, but he continues to stare resolutely ahead.

  “I don’t understand,” she says.

  The Command
er’s right eyelid twitches and a hint of a sigh escapes her lips. “As a highly confidential and risky operation, I can’t tell you more until you are confirmed on the Task Force.”

  “How can you be sure it will be temporary?” Anaiya persists.

  Niamh kicks her under the desk, but she ignores him.

  The sigh is clear and unmistakable this time. “The realignment will only target your limbic brain – the primal part of your brain responsible for reactions and habits, the part of you that responds instinctively. Your neocortex, the higher part of the brain that is conditioned during Premie training, will remain untouched. At the end of the operation, your limbic brain will be reassigned to your true Element.”

  “Why me? Why not Niamh?”

  It comes out sounding desperate, but at this point she is no longer able to maintain the cool facade she cultivates every day as a Peacekeeper. A dull panic, like a hand over her mouth, is rising in her mind. The same feeling that assaulted her as a Trainee, watching as her mentor was Executed – the feeling of being in a situation with no clear exit, of being given an impossible task, of standing on a precipice. Of being out of her depth.

  “The mind of Deputy Commander Niamh was deemed too rigid to attempt realignment. And his particular mix of skills are better utilised behind the scenes.” Her voice is colder. Harder. She regards Anaiya with a fierce stare as if silently forbidding her to ask another question. When Anaiya falls quiet, she nods to herself and leans back in her chair. “Now, are you prepared to be tested?”

  Anaiya’s mind races with her choices and their implications. If she says no, she will look weak and unfit to be a Peacekeeper. If she says yes, she will lose part of her that makes her a Fire Elemental. She will lose herself.

  Niamh’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Ani, we can beat the Heterodoxy with this. You can erase his legacy with this.”