“The Transcended tried to kill me,” Esme said.
Olivia pushed Esme out to arms length a moment to look her in the eyes in hopes she hadn’t heard correctly. “What did you say?”
“The Transcended your father sent to help us,” Esme repeated, “it tried to kill me after the battle was over. If it weren’t for people trying to stop it, I think it would have caught me too.”
“What happened to it? Where is it now?” Olivia demanded, a fierce anger rising in her voice not only at the metal creature who tried to kill her beloved, but also her own father for sending something so potentially dangerous into the midst of an already vulnerable army.
“I don’t know where it is now, but the word passing among the soldiers is that Claudia killed it and her father gutted it,” Esme said. “The myth of Marceau among the men is starting to include Claudia now. They’ll be erecting statues to both of them if things keep on the way they’re going.”
Olivia smiled to Esme, losing track of the conversation a little. “You’re starting to talk like me.”
“It’s such a stylish, interesting way of speaking,” Esme said. “I can’t help it.” In a shockingly intimate gesture that took Olivia completely by surprise, Esme reached her hand up the empty leg of Olivia’s pants to place her hand on the stump of her lost leg. “Your beautiful leg was broken?”
“Dr. Gatling said he would repair it,” Olivia said, blushing furiously at how remarkable it felt to have Esme touching the ruined remains of her old leg in such a loving way. Olivia usually took her mechanical leg off to sleep as it caught on bedding something fierce, but Esme hadn’t ever touched the stump until that point.
“Until it is, let me be your legs,” Esme said. “I’ll get anything you want.”
“Right now, I want to get out of here, and get answers from Claudia, Commander Marceau, and my father,” Olivia said. “With how much went wrong, someone must know why.”
Esme smiled brightly, kissed Olivia with an elation that could only come from two lovers finding each other relatively whole after something traumatic, and stood from the bed when their lips parted. “I’ll get you crutches right away.”
Chapter 33:
Rebirth After Death.
The elevator ride to the surface was slow and sullen. Claudia’s father finally became aware his hand was covered in the strange blue goop straight up to his elbow and the realization seemed to make him uncomfortable, or perhaps it was because of the larger untenable position with no real appealing options left.
“The plan would not have delivered Alcatraz,” Claudia finally said, breaking the silence between them. She was back in the opposite corner of the basket from him, both of them standing more in the shadows than out.
“I had an alternative plan,” her father said. “I might have seized control in what would no doubt have been a bloody coup, but the loss of life would have been lower than what it ended up costing us in failure, and now…”
“…the same people will have to die regardless,” Claudia finished for him.
He nodded.
“You are afraid of making the same mistakes the people who implemented the cascade made; you are afraid of making the same mistakes Hastings made,” Claudia said. “This is admirable, but you have an option neither of them did. You can preserve your city at a much lower price.”
“By trading what we have for totalitarianism?”
“The military oligarchy we have now is hardly superior to the military oligarchy the Ravens offer,” Claudia scoffed. “If it were, they would be on the brink of destruction, and the City of Broken Bridges would be secure.”
“You are the only counsel I have left. What would you have me do?”
She hadn’t heard her father speak with such defeat since her mother died. It was horrible to hear the doubt and resignation in his voice. Perhaps her melancholy outlook on the world wasn’t entirely derived from her mother.
“I will bring the Voron Daggers to take care of Alcatraz and you will undertake your coup so they will have a proper figurehead of power to deal with,” Claudia said. “If the military council remains intact, they will burn it out and their rule of the city will be as unfriendly as their reception was made by that bunch. If you are solely in charge, you can make them feel welcome and they will be welcoming in response.”
“What do the Ravens do with traitors?” her father asked.
“Hang them,” Claudia replied, unsure if he was asking after her future or his own.
†
Claudia and Roger waited in the darkness on the beachhead near the park where the Transcended had died. The craters remained from the missiles that missed and nobody had bothered to clean up the metal sheeting scattered from the pile the Transcended was trying to harvest from.
Claudia slid the flare gun from her pocket and fired it into the air. The red flare streaked into the sky and began its slow, flickering descent over the water ahead of her. The waves lapped at the sand in the darkness and the wind blew in from the ocean across the bay. Before the hissing flare made its fizzling impact into the black water of the bay, Claudia heard the motors of boats coming toward the beach.
Olivia wasn’t happy about giving over her contact duties, nor was she as resigned to Claudia’s fate. Claudia assured her that she was as safe as inevitability would allow anyway. This hadn’t made Olivia any happier.
Claudia didn’t know Alondra, although she knew of her. She was a much softer colonizer than Veronica, or so the rumors went. Claudia also didn’t truly know if Bancroft was even still alive. Counterintelligence was something the Voron Daggers excelled at and whatever Dylan told Olivia could easily be lies intentionally planted to set Claudia at ease. It was all masturbatory to even wonder though—Claudia had nowhere else to run and the Ravens would take the city rather than let it fall into Slark hands. She was caught.
Rubber speed boats struck the sandy shore, three in all, fully loaded with Voron Daggers in full combat regalia. The boats slid up far enough onto the shore to stick from the force of the drive in and the commandos leapt free to secure the beach against an unseen enemy despite the fact that the only welcoming party they were to have consisted of an unarmed woman and her unimpressed dog.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when you show up anywhere,” Dylan said as she strode out from the group of warrior women. “It’s good to see you again, Marceau.”
“Is it really?” Claudia asked.
“Keep your wary shield up if you like, but the sisterhood of the Voron Daggers isn’t so easily broken by one of us taking a vacation,” Dylan said. “Garcia, why don’t you tell Claudia how many times we’ve had to find you off on some random adventure?”
Libby Garcia emerged from the line, stripped away her night vision goggles, and immediately scooped Claudia into her arms for an earthy hug. Claudia hugged back, surprised to find her long lost friend and spotter still lived. They held each other for some time before Dylan cleared her throat to end the reunion.
“Four,” Libby said. “The last time was going to be a wedding leave that I left on a little early.”
“With Alec?” Claudia asked.
Dylan stifled a laugh.
“Alec was three guys ago,” Libby said sheepishly.
“You see, Marceau?” Dylan said. “The Voron Daggers put up with all sorts of nonsense if you’re one of the sisterhood.” Dylan stepped between Libby and Claudia, and gently cupped Claudia’s face with one of her gloved hands. Claudia looked up to the tall captain and smiled. “If it comes down to it, we will protect our own.”
“I appreciate that,” Claudia murmured.
“Your appreciation is appreciated,” Dylan said with a smile. “Now, you didn’t call us over here simply to see if we would be happy to find you alive, did you?”
“I’m here to negotiate a…” Claudia began, but it wasn’t a genuine negotiation and she wasn’t authorized to negotiate on behalf of anyone. If she was to truly rejoin the Ravens, and she would need to in or
der to save her own life and protect her father, she would need to talk with Dylan as though she were already back into the fold. “…they tried to retake Alcatraz and failed spectacularly. The city is now out of even bad options. Everything can be taken with only minor bloodshed if we act quickly.”
“Ms. Olivia Kingston seems to think your father would be an excellent figurehead and guardian to leave in charge of the city,” Dylan said. “Can he be brought into the flock, as it were?”
“He’s pragmatic and amenable,” Claudia replied. “Moreover, he would be an exceptional asset if his needs could be seen to.”
“What needs might those be?” Dylan asked, taking a half step back, folding her arms over her chest.
“Simply let him decide how best to protect the people of the City of Broken Bridges,” Claudia said. “He has taken his stewardship of these people very seriously and it would likely be devastating for both groups if they were torn apart.”
“I couldn’t see why the Raven command would care so long as he knew his place,” Dylan said. “We like the port and want the Slark fuel—beyond that, the people here can do as they like. From what we’ve seen, these people lack anything but a quickly withering technological advantage. I’ll take the request to Bancroft, mention it’s specifically from you, but I don’t see why she wouldn’t approve that deal. You know the Ravens—why wait for a consensus of a bunch of people when you only have to talk to one, if you catch my meaning.”
Claudia nodded her understanding of the universal truth of the statement. The Raven model was Eastern European to its very core, especially in regards to the consolidation of ultimate authority into just a few hands. Of course, Veronica had pointed out, and accurately so, that this was also a very American concept. For all the boasting of freedom, equality, and democracy, the United States before its fall was little more than a plutocracy dressed up like a Republic. These were terms Claudia’s father had used before, but until Veronica explained what it all really meant, Claudia hadn’t truly understood. The world was in flux and continuing a plutocracy where wealth and birthplace dictated power seemed a complete frivolity when compared to the Russian model of strength of leadership above all else. Claudia never understood patriotism and was glad when it died with so many other institutions in the cascade. Her allegiance only went as far as survival, which was only as far as the Ravens ever asked of anyone. Perhaps she wasn’t as French as she thought.
“My father’s practicality and strength to rule will meld well with the Raven ideals,” Claudia said.
“Excellent,” Dylan said. “Then I don’t see why the city shouldn’t remain under his command once all other obstacles are removed.”
Claudia glanced over her should to the solemn silhouette of the tower to the south. She expected to see either the single green light of the coup having started, signaled from a window nearest the top, or perhaps even the two green lights, one above and one below, that would signal the successful completion of the coup. Instead, only the aircraft warning lights flashed along the spire in slow, repetitive intervals. The blood in Claudia’s veins ran cold—the coup was on shaky ground and likely to fail. To reinforce what she hoped was a mistake she heard the distant pop of rifle fire.
“Is something wrong?” Dylan asked, apparently putting things together in part.
“How fast can you take out Alcatraz?” Claudia asked, whipping her head around to address the Captain with proper urgency.
“We could have done it yesterday if someone asked nicely enough,” Dylan replied. “We could do it right now if you sent us someone who knew the ins and outs of the island even in the dark.”
“I’ll find you that someone, I swear it,” Claudia said, “but the island needs to fall tonight for the city to be delivered by morning.”
Dylan gave her a withering, skeptical look, and, for a moment, Claudia doubted she would acquiesce. “Very well,” Dylan finally said. “Keep in mind I’m putting more trust in you than is entirely warranted in this situation.”
“The guide’s name is Esme, and she’ll carry the old identify friend/foe of the Ravens,” Claudia said. “They tore it down…”
“…so we could build it back right,” Dylan finished for her. “Now go. I’m guessing you have a fire to put out.”
Claudia took off at a jog with Roger by her side. She hoped her lungs would hold out long enough to reach the rally point for the coup, and she hoped Esme was with her father and Olivia when she arrived.
†
The list of things Olivia never thought she would live to see added a dozen or so things in the past hour. She was fighting alongside the fabled Commander Marceau, which was a good thing, but they were losing badly and were being chased up Telegraph Hill toward the ruins of Coit Tower, which wasn’t how she’d expected that moment to play out. She was firing a carbine one handed, trying to keep steady on crutches, and struggling with even basic footing on the steep incline up the hill’s ruined face—a new experience to be sure since she’d long since lost the feeling of having a fully missing limb. When she faltered, which was often, Esme of all people was the one to take up a weapon and defend her; another occurrence Olivia never thought to see. The final, and perhaps the most bizarre, was in seeing Dr. Gatling out of the tower. The doctor’s advanced wheelchair scrambled easily up the hill on its articulating wheel arms in a way that most mountain goats might envy. Stranger than seeing him out of the tower, which was plenty crazy on its own, Dr. Gatling was fighting alongside them, and doing a thumping good job of it. It was easily the weirdest night in Olivia’s memory.
“Bruce’s rallying cry must be hampered by something,” Esme shouted above the firefight that was slowing to a dull roar as the rebels took the high ground of Telegraph Hill.
Olivia hoisted herself over a disturbed chunk of cement, abandoning one of her crutches in the process. She didn’t need both anyway—she still had one good leg. When she was in the safety of her new cover, she reloaded her carbine and took a moment to breathe. “I didn’t have the time to rally the former women soldiers to full strength and the mustering plan for them was hasty at best,” Olivia replied. “We’ll have to hope Bruce is as determined and persuasive in this as he is in most things.”
While Commander Marceau’s plan was still in its infancy, arming and readying the various pieces on the chessboard, the rest of the military council enacted their own coup. They’d gotten it in their heads that Inspector Cavanaugh was silenced by the rebels after discovering Commander Marceau had killed General Hastings. Both accusations seemed entirely preposterous to Olivia even as the soldiers who came to arrest the lot of them uttered the charges. To her further chagrin, Commander Marceau, defiant as ever, admitted his daughter had killed Inspector Cavanaugh and that he had indeed killed General Hastings to save his daughter’s life. Moreover, he wasn’t sorry about either action and he wasn’t about to surrender. In the firefight that ensued, Commander Marceau obliterated the men sent to arrest him, seizing on the split second of hesitation caused by the surprise of hearing him admit readily to both crimes. At close range, with knives and his shotgun, all he needed was their momentary distraction.
The commander was already cresting the hill with the rest of his defensive line of rebels falling behind him. This was when hell began raining down on their pursuers. From the elevated position at the top of the hill, with a weapon cache no doubt secreted away for just such an eventuality, Commander Marceau fired rockets, incendiary grenades, and a deluge of bullets down upon the pursuers, changing weapons rather than reloading and moving among the different armaments as though he were Zeus with a full compliment of lightning bolts for the mortals on the ground below.
Olivia looked up to him, flashing in the fires he was raining down, and saw in him the terrifying figure of a warrior with nothing left to lose and swords enough for all his enemies at his fingertips. Dr. Gatling came to her side, impelling her up the hill under the cover Commander Marceau created.
“When you’re truly free,
you’re bound to get a little weird,” Dr. Gatling said to her. “In me, this has been freeing, but in him, this weirdness is a little frightening.”
With the entire dozen of the remaining rebels atop the hill, Commander Marceau quickly saw to fortifying their defensive position. He situated everyone in highly precise ways, making maximum use of the weapon cache he’d planted for just such a purpose. The hill was so steep, the cover so slanted toward defense, and the armaments so impressive that Olivia didn’t doubt it would take a hundred to one advantage for anyone to knock them from the base of Coit Tower, which made it all the more surprising when Claudia and Roger appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
Claudia and her father embraced, a meager passing of words took place, and then they were off to find Esme of all people. Olivia desperately wanted to abandon her post to see what Claudia was telling Esme who seemed more than a little disturbed by the orders. She took her leave without so much as saying goodbye to Olivia, scampering away into the darkness to disappear in much the same way Claudia appeared.
Dr. Gatling delivered a sniper rifle to Claudia and pointed to the ruins of Coit Tower. Claudia vanished into the tower as though this was always part of the plan.
Olivia sat in her defensive position with her numerous carbines and rifles laid out beside her and wondered how much of this plan she really was privy to. Apparently, Commander Marceau was guilty of the treasonous act that Olivia defended him against for months and the entire plan of killing Cavanaugh concocted by her and Bruce Coffey was already rendered pointless by Claudia at some point, possibly weeks ago since nobody had seen or heard from Cavanaugh in ages. What Olivia really needed to understand was why.
Against orders, and with little more than a meaningful glance to the two men flanking her defensive position, she abandoned her post to hobble on a dented crutch and a single leg to get some answers out of the godly Commander Marceau. She’d built up a head of steam on her way over, which she didn’t end up needing as the commander didn’t seem remotely surprised at her approach or her leaving of the line.
The Steam-Powered Sniper in the City of Broken Bridges (The Raven Ladies Book 2) Page 32
