She watched, terrified, as Brody walked down the steps and straight toward the man in white, hands in fists at his sides. She heard him say something to Drake and Lancer, and they stood up, but still didn’t go back to the flier, hands on the detonators.
“Let them go. Let all of my friends go. You have me.” Brody’s quiet voice reached her.
The man nodded.
Lancer walked up to Brody then and put his arm around him. “We are not leaving you here, Brody. Sorry, but we can’t do that.”
Brody said something she couldn’t hear and Lancer stepped back. She could see Brody’s father smiling, his mouth twisting unpleasantly. “I am not interested in keeping him. I just wanted to talk to him,” the man spat, and she watched, horrified, as he pulled out a gun and aimed it straight at Brody’s head, Brody not moving a muscle, staring at him.
“There hasn’t been a day I didn’t regret having you for a son. I wanted you to know that. And I wanted you to know that you killed your mother. Well, she pathetically killed herself, because of you. It should have been you who bloody killed himself. You did that to her. And that girl… the shame of it,” he shook his head, “you’ve no idea how much shame, you piece of shit, listening to a Zoriner breeder calling out your name, the name of my son. I waited for so long to tell you this. But enough of this. I need to know who is in charge here.”
Brody’s soldier voice: “I am.”
The man nodded. “Here is what’s going to happen. I’ll trade you the lives of all the Zoriner girls you stole and all of your friends for the two replenishers you are hiding. I will let everyone but you go then, unharmed. There are two hundred soldiers behind me. And this little stunt with explosives,” he pointed at Drake and Lancer and laughed, an ugly laugh, not at all like Brody’s, “it’s just silly. They don’t scare my soldiers. You see, you bloody idiot, my soldiers will do what I tell them, no matter what. They don’t have any kind of choice about it and they don’t feel fear at the moment.”
Suddenly Lancer was right in front of the man, his free hand wrapped around his neck. “They may not, Fuller, but something tells me you do. We haven’t met. I am Maxton, you son of a bitch, and I’ve got nothing to lose, not a soul in the world left. So here is how this is going to go. The replenishers are gone, dead gone, Fuller, so you can’t have them, and I’m not letting you have Brody, you piece of shit, so I’m all you’ve got. You are going to disconnect your soldiers’ implants and you will have them stand down. And then you and I are going to watch as my friends take off and I won’t blow you up. That’s as good a deal as you’re going to get, and from what I just saw of you, much better than you deserve.”
The man was gasping for breath, turning colors. Lancer, without turning to look at them was screaming at Brody and Drake to go back to the flier and take off, only Brody was arguing with him, not doing it.
Lancer’s voice was angry now. “You don’t have a choice, Brody. I got this. Go.”
She watched Drake drag Brody to the flier, Brody’s face wet. Trelix pulled them both in and shut the door, and she felt the tiny vibration and knew they were in the air. She could still see Lancer, standing with his back to them, the vest off of him, hands banded behind his bleeding back, and Brody’s father punching him in the face over and over again, and then soldiers grabbing him by the arms. She turned away, had to turn away. She felt Riley’s arms around her after a while and closed her eyes, keeping the tears in, hoping there was something they could do to save Lancer. And if they couldn’t, she hoped they would simply put a bullet in his head.
16
The Sacrifice
Lancer, June 11, 2236, Crylo
He hoped Brody would simply do what he agreed to do for them, detonate the explosives outside with the girls and get them back to the flier safely. It would have made him feel better if Brody could drop the explosives into the collector bins himself, but there was no place to hide anything the way their uniforms were, so they needed to use the girls for that, and he was more nervous about it than he liked to admit. He was listening in on their conversations, and Ams sounded strange to him, uncertain, not like she normally did. And when Brody sent them away by themselves, he knew he’d try to get into the lab, and hoped he wouldn’t get them all killed in the process.
The distraction worked well enough, and they hardly had to disable any soldiers getting into the lab. It was almost too easy and he distrusted it. The Zoriner girls did what they were told, likely too afraid to protest or to question anything, and it only took a few minutes to get them all out onto the roof. Trelix moved faster than he thought him capable, dropping the carabiners on the ropes for the girls and pushing them down. They were almost all down on the roof with their flier was on, when he heard shots behind him. Brody, face flushed, was running toward him, a group of soldiers behind him. Stupid bloody kid, he cursed. He grabbed him, shooting his stunner at the approaching soldiers, hoping they’d still make it to the flier unharmed. At least Brody had the armor on him. They all did, but Stan couldn’t find anything large enough for Drake and him, so he was exposed. He could tell that these soldiers were using old-school guns, though he couldn’t for the life of him think of why they’d resort to those, and then he knew. They were trying to disable the flier, and suddenly he could see it, plain as day, sitting on that roof, shields gone.
He felt a searing pain in his shoulder, wetness spreading around it. He blocked it, concentrating on dragging Brody behind him, shooting, and clipping Brody’s belt to his wn carabiner. He finally looked at him and he could tell something was wrong. Brody’s face was sweating and his eyes unfocused.
“Are you hurt?”
The kid nodded, tried to say something, and gave up.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. All right, just hang on. I got you.”
He could feel the soldiers jumping onto the rope behind him, and then he saw a large number of them running in the street between the buildings and climbing the fire staircase to the roof. He switched to the old gun. He’ll be shooting to kill now, not to wound, hoping to inspire some of the soldiers to give up by watching their friends bleed. It’s all he could think to do. He told the rest of them to use the old guns and to shoot to kill on the comm, and hoped nothing else was wrong with the flier and they could take off as soon as they got there. The girls were all in, and he saw Riley and Drake running toward them, shooting at the soldiers that were landing on the roof, backing carefully to the flier, and finally, he got Brody inside and yelled for Ella to take a look at him. He turned around to make sure they were all in and safe and saw Drake kneeling out there in front of the soldiers, holding a bloody detonator in his hands.
He must have wired himself before going out there. He was buying them time. So the flier was not okay. It’s the only thing that made sense, the only thing that would make Drake do something like that, and then Trelix said something about the reactor and he knew for sure what Drake intended to do. Knew, too, that he was right. There was no other way for the rest of them to get out of there alive, not with the flier the way it was, only he couldn’t let Drake do this for them. The kids needed him. And Ella. He glanced at her, tears running down her face, her hand twisting the ring on her finger, Idris’ ring, his ring. He couldn’t let him die.
Trelix seemed to understand it too and didn’t fight him on it. Lancer didn’t want to damage the connectors on the vest by inadvertently getting them wet from the blood, so he pulled his jacket and shirt off, hoping nobody was staring directly at his back. Trelix tightened the straps around him, not saying a word. He was ready. He just hoped Drake would do what he told him to do when he got there.
“Stand down!” A new voice got his attention, and he watched a tall man with striking blue eyes, wearing a parade uniform of a colonel, walk out from behind the soldiers and approach them. His eyes looked familiar, and then he spoke and he hoped whoever was guarding the door to the flier wouldn’t let Brody leave, only he knew that if the kid wanted to, he’d find a way. And he did. He heard the soun
d of his steps on the stairs, heard him walk up behind him, and watched him walk right up to the man, straight-backed, eyes on the colonel’s, unblinking. He looked calm, except for his hands, knuckles white the way he was squeezing his fingers into fists.
“Let them go. Let all of my friends go. You have me,” Brody said, his voice quiet, controlled.
The man nodded to him, soldier to soldier, a stranger.
He couldn’t let Brody do this, and something in the way the man’s eyes were made him not trust him already. He got up and grabbed Brody by the shoulder with his free hand, keeping his eyes on his father. “We are not leaving you here, Brody. Sorry, but we can’t do that.”
Brody tilted his head to the side and whispered for him alone, “We all make our choices, Lancer. Mine today almost got all of you killed, and I’m sorry for that. But this is still my mission, and I am still in charge, so you will do what I ask of you. As a soldier, if not as a friend. You and Drake need to leave.” Brody turned his head away, looking at his father’s face again.
Lancer took a step back toward Drake, watching, trying to think of a way to fix this so he could save Brody, if not Drake. He watched Fuller point the gun at his son’s face, hand steady. Watched his mouth twist into a strange smile when he was telling Brody about his mother killing herself, and Trina screaming his name in the lab. Brody’s face looked the same, no emotion on it, and he couldn’t imagine the control it took for him to not lash out at this man after what he’d just told him, and he knew he was doing it for them, knew the kid was waiting for Drake and him to get on the damn flier and leave, but he couldn’t do that. He liked him too much to let him die like this, humiliated by his father in front of everyone, with the news of his mother dying like that weighing on him.
He knew what Fuller meant when he said that it didn’t matter about the explosives, that the soldiers were connected to him through the neuro net, and that they would do whatever he told them to like Brody’s soldiers did with Hassinger, or what he had done to all the people in Reston. He pushed the guilt down and whispered to Drake to get Brody out of there, no matter what, waited for him to nod, and lunged for the man, grabbing him hard by the throat, his fingers wrapping around it tightly enough to kill him if he held on long enough. He registered the look of surprise and fear in his eyes, and knew he was in control now; knew he could still protect all of them.
He let his fingers relax just enough to not strangle him yet, Fuller gasping for breath, hard, his face turning purple, and then told him calmly that he would let them all go, all but him, in exchange for his own miserable life. He could tell that this man would not sacrifice himself for anything, could see it in his eyes, and he trusted that Drake would get Brody back safely, even if Brody hated him for it afterward. He watched the man take his screen out and punch something into it, and then waited, his hand still wrapped firmly around his neck. He waited until he heard the door of the flier close and then for a few moments after that until he knew for sure the flier was in the air, and he let him go then and lifted his hands up.
Two soldiers approached, carefully now, their implants no longer making them brave.
“Punch 227 on the screen in my pants pocket and it’ll disable the detonator,” he told the one closest to him.
The soldier got the screen out and punched in the numbers, his hand shaking.
Lancer saw the light go out on the detonator and dropped it on the ground in front of Fuller.
The soldiers took the vest off of him, working quickly, not worried anymore.
“Put your hands behind your back,” Fuller said.
He did and felt the wide metal band close around his wrists. He thought it strange that they’d use a slave band on him and not biters. As soon as the soldiers stepped away, Fuller punched him square in the face. He staggered backward, taken by surprise. He could tell the man wasn’t done. He was ready now. He watched the man’s eyes as he punched him, trying to read him, and he could tell the man was enjoying this, that he was like Hassinger in that way. Fuller stopped after a few more punches and motioned to the two soldiers.
They grabbed him roughly by the arms and snapped at him to walk. He didn’t have any kind of choice about it. They walked him to the opening in the roof and had him climb down the stairs. One of the guards pulled a rope through his belt and held it taut while he climbed. There were guards at the landing, guns pointing at his face, motioning for him to follow. He did, and after a short ride in the elevator, they were on the street and heading to one of the taller buildings, a block away from the one with the lab.
Nobody said anything to him while they walked, but he couldn’t help but notice the passerby gawking at the procession. Finally, they were in the elevator again, going down four stories. The doors opened to a dimly lit, long corridor with identical doors along the sides. One of these slid open and the soldiers shoved him inside and shut the door after him.
Lancer blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark. He spotted a cot along the wall and a toilet in the corner across from it. That was it. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be here for long, a day, maybe two before they shoot him. He could manage it for that long. He lay down on the cot and closed his eyes against the gray walls, and against the ugly words Fuller spat at his son. This man he could kill and not regret doing it. And Brody just taking it, not moving anything on his face, not wanting Fuller to know he was hurting him. He hoped he’ll forgive him for forcing him to go back to the flier like that. Hoped he’ll understand why he had to do it, even if it takes him years. And he hoped, most of all, that Brody wouldn’t try to rescue him.
He must have fallen asleep, the sound of the sliding door making him jump. He was on his feet in a flash. Fuller, flanked by two guards walked in. One of the guards dragged a chair into the middle of the room, the sound of the legs scraping the floor making him cringe. Fuller motioned to the guards and they were gone. The man was still wearing his parade whites, his hands behind his back, and he saw, with not a little satisfaction, that his neck was bruised, an ugly purple. The man paced for a while and finally sat down in the chair. Lancer stood in front of him, watching him.
“S-Squad. Interesting…. I met one of you S-Squad freaks before. I am told you are some kind of special, privileged. No implants, no histories, no records. It’s hard to negotiate with someone who doesn’t really exist, don’t you think?” Fuller looked up at him, his eyes unnervingly Brody-like.
“I wasn’t aware we were negotiating, Fuller. I don’t have anything to offer you, so just get on with it.”
The man nodded and smiled. “Oh, but that’s where you are wrong. Of course, you do, Maxton. You see, you had them take my son away from me and I wasn’t quite finished with him. But I have a plan, Maxton. I always have a plan, and whether you like it or not, you will do exactly what I need you to do,” he said and then stood and walked right up to him, watching his face.
He could probably kill him now, even with the slave band on. He knew the guards were just outside the door and would shoot him for it, but they were going to shoot him anyway….
“I know what you’re thinking, Maxton, but you don’t want to do that. You see, if you so much as lay a hand on me, you’ll be responsible for killing innocent people, and given how willing you were to get yourself blown up just now, I don’t think you can stomach that. There is a room full of Zoriner girls, the ones who weren’t in the lab. My soldiers have orders to shoot them all. They are across the hall from you, and you’ll start meeting them shortly, albeit each meeting will only last a little while.” Fuller walked to the door and knocked.
The guards came in and ushered him out of the room, leaving the chair behind. Lancer knew what the son of a bitch was planning. He would use the Zoriner girls against him, use them to get to Brody, and he couldn’t think of a single person he’d ever hated more than he did this man. He slid down the wall and tried to think of something, anything at all that he could do now. Fuller was smart enough to have figured out he could access
the comm on the flier, if not talk to Brody directly. He would have seen his scars by now, too, and likely knew that he wouldn’t tell him anything if he tortured him, so he played him using other people’s lives. Unless he was bluffing. If he were a religious man, he’d pray that he was.
The door slid open and he heard a whimper as a young girl was pushed into the room, the door sliding closed behind her. Not bluffing then. The girl huddled in the corner, looking at him, face afraid. She was young, and the skimpy sleeveless shirt she had on did little to conceal the many bruises on her arms. Lancer put his head down, not wanting to look at her, afraid to remember her face if he couldn’t find a way to keep her safe.
“Why are they keeping you here, if you are one of them? It doesn’t make any kind of sense,” the girl asked, her voice shaky but soft.
He stood, looking at her too-young face. “How many more of you are here?”
The girl shook her head. “I’m not sure. There were thirty-eight of us in that room across the hall, but there could be others. I don’t know, is what I’m saying. I am Tishana.” She got up and took a few steps toward him.
He didn’t want her to be this close. He could see her far too clearly. She looked sixteen at the most. He didn’t want to hurt this kid, but he owed her the truth. He leaned his head against the wall, took a deep breath, and told her everything he could, softly, almost in a whisper. Told her about what they did here earlier today, and how Fuller was threatening to use them, the girls, against him, so that he would get Brody, his son, to come back, likely so he could kill him. Something he prevented him from doing before.
The girl didn’t say a word, just kept looking at him. She took another step toward him. “It’s okay, you know. It’s likely better that they shoot us than whatever it is they plan to do with us. Don’t give up your friend. You should never give up your friends,” she said and walked away from him, slid down the wall across the room, and put her head down.
Alliance: The Complete Series (A Dystopian YA Box Set Books 1-5): Dystopian Sci Fi Thriller Page 48
