Alliance: The Complete Series (A Dystopian YA Box Set Books 1-5): Dystopian Sci Fi Thriller

by Inna Hardison

  He opened the door to go back in and Max told him to get the guards to bring Eryn in, that they were ready. The guards walked Eryn to the middle of the room, a hand on each of his arms.

  Max stood up and asked the guards to step back. “The consensus here is that you are guilty, so you will be charged as such. However, we cannot impose the same sentence on you as we would on one of our own. In lieu of executing you, we’ll place you in solitary confinement for an undetermined period of time, pending the outcome of any future testimony you might wish to provide that could help us, or the outcome of this struggle between us. You will be fed and provided any medical care you may need, but beyond that, you will remain in your cell. Is there anything you’d like to say before you are remanded into custody?”.

  “There is,” Eryn said quietly. “If you’re worried about retaliation of any kind, your concerns are misplaced. The Eagles do not retaliate for the capture or killing of any of their soldiers, so long as the people you capture are male. You can verify that with Brandon or anyone you’re currently holding prisoner. If your decision is motivated by some misguided belief that we’ll treat your people the way you treat ours, it’s a lousy decision. It won’t make a bloody difference, should one of your people get captured, I promise you that.”

  Lancer just nodded and said a few words to Max in a whisper, motioning to the guards to step forward. “You are remanded into the custody of these guards. They will transport you to your cell. We may revisit this at a later date, pending any new intel, but for now, the sentence stands.” He nodded to the two guards. They grabbed him roughly by the arms and took him out of the room, Eryn not fighting them, not looking back.

  Everyone got up, but Max told them they weren’t done yet and looked right at him.

  “I need you to take a seat at that bench, Riley.”

  Riley swallowed hard, slowly took off his weapons belt, and pulled his short knife out of his pocket. He dropped the knife and the belt in front of Lancer, the soft clang of metal the only sound in the room, and then quickly walked to the bench, not sitting down. He put his hands behind his back, looking up at Max, keeping himself as still as he could, not wanting any of them to see the hurt on him.

  “What you did, shooting that man, that would qualify as torture, would you agree?” Max asked.

  “Yes,” he said quietly, his face burning from all the anger.

  “You need to tell us why you did that, what you hoped to accomplish by it.”

  “I wanted revenge,” he answered honestly.

  “You are a member of this Council, and as such, every decision you make reflects the laws and rules we’ve established here. Do you feel you violated those rules?”

  “Yes, Max. I violated the bloody rules. Just say it, whatever it is you decided to do with me, get on with it. I don’t feel bad for shooting him. I would have likely put more holes into him if Brody’s boys didn’t show up when they did. If I didn’t think for a second that killing him might result in one of our guys being killed, I’d vote to execute him in the worst way too!”

  Max shook his head at him sadly, and sat down, motioning to Lancer to take over.

  Lancer paced for a beat in front of him, putting him on edge, and then stopped, his face tense. “We don’t have much precedent for setting the punishment for council members, Riley, but you know that. What would you have us do?”

  “Forget that I am on the council and do with me what you would with anyone else.”

  “That would mean public lashing or worse, Riley, and we can’t do that with you.”

  “Why the hell not?” he snapped at him.

  “Because we bloody love you too much to publicly humiliate you,” Lancer said not calmly anymore.

  “Do it privately then,” he spat, his voice louder than he meant for it to be, and asked if he should leave to let them decide on their own.

  Lancer just shook his head. “We have to strip you of your duties and your rank. It’ll be a temporary thing, but for now, we can’t have you on the council. We’ll forgo the rest of it–” and he went to sit down again.

  And suddenly he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help but be angry at all of them. “You can’t…. You can’t treat people differently because of your personal histories with them. That was one of the things we swore to fix, remember? So whatever you decide the sentence is for what I did, you need to impose that in its entirety. I will not let you treat me any differently than you would someone whose name you’d just learned. I won’t stand for it!” he screamed, his hands curling into fists.

  Brody walked up to him then, Brody, who hasn’t said one word through all of this, fear in his eyes. He put his hands up, stopping him far enough away.

  “Don’t do this, Riley. Please, don’t do this. We were all there. We saw what he did to Ams. I don’t know if I wouldn’t have killed him for it. Please, let us get out of this without hurting you or any of us any more than we’ve all been hurt already. I am begging you to please let it go.”

  “I can’t do that. I demand a fair and unbiased sentence. As a citizen of Reston, I believe I still have the right to that,” he spat, and without asking permission, left the room.

  He called for a guard as soon as he was in the hallway, and was surprised to see Trevor round the corner, looking at him strangely. He told him to tie his hands in front of him with biters, as they normally did with the accused, Trevor’s eyebrows going up, confusion all over his face. He had to tell him then, so he did, quickly, and waited.

  Max swung the door open after a while, looked at his tied hands and then Trevor, and shook his head at him, lines etched across his forehead, making him look old. He had Trevor walk him in, everyone looking at him with sadness now, and he suddenly felt that Brody was trying to protect him from something he may not have counted on.

  Max stepped up to the bench and said in a shaky voice, “We are going to give you a choice, Riley, as we would anyone else in Reston who is found to have done what you did. We can banish you, and forbid you to ever come back or contact any of us again, or we can lash you until you can’t take any more…. It means you have to tell us when you can’t take any more pain and we take your word of honor for it. All of us here would rather you walk away from the council for some time, and leave it at that. I beg you to please just do that.”

  “The moment you had me stand where I’m standing, it became a trial, so you will treat this as any other proceeding. You don’t have any kind of choice about it now. As for my sentence… I’m not running, but I will ask you to not do it publicly. Too many here know me and it wouldn’t be good for them to see it. I’m ready,” he said as evenly as he could through all the anger in him, keeping his eyes on Max’s.

  Max sighed, told Trevor to set him up, and turned away from him. He heard Brody whispering something, but couldn’t catch the words. It didn’t matter. Trevor clipped the biters at his hands and took his council jacket off him, the cool air brushing against his back. He already decided he wouldn’t let himself pass out, and he knew that he’d rather die than ask them to stop. He waited as Trevor tied his hands to the post, noting that he was being gentle with him, and wouldn’t look at his face. He felt bad for him having to be the one to do it, but he couldn’t help that now.

  Max walked up to them and told Trevor to get him iced water and that he was free to go after that. He closed his eyes, not wanting to talk to him.

  “Look at me, please,” Max asked softly as soon as Trevor was gone.

  He shook his head.

  “I am going to ask you one more time to please reconsider this. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone here. We know who you are, and I’d rather not hurt you because you decided to be a stubborn son of a bitch about this.” His voice strained, but angry, too.

  “There isn’t anything for me to reconsider, Max. I was sentenced for what I did, and one of you or one of the guards needs to carry it out,” he said loudly enough for all of them to hear.

  “I shouldn’t have don
e that, shouldn’t have put you on the spot, and I’m sorry for that. Be angry at me for it all you want, but please, don’t do this. Please, let it go.”

  “You didn’t put me on the spot, Max. You bloody tried me. Now you will finish this,” he snapped at him and closed his eyes.

  He could hear Max pacing by the post, could hear him breathing hard, and he knew he was hurting, hating himself as likely as not, but he was too pissed off to let it go, and a small part of him wanted to punish Max, punish all of them for treating him like a kid, for humiliating him.

  “All right,” Max finally said, his voice so quiet, he barely heard him. “All you have to do is tell me to stop. It’s how this works. Please, just do that,” he whispered for him alone.

  Trevor came and left, and he heard Max take a deep breath and then the sound of him fumbling in his belt. He opened his eyes then. He gasped when the whip landed on him the first time, not expecting the lancing pain, not ready for it, and hated himself for not being better at controlling himself.

  Max walked around him, looking at him.

  “It won’t happen again,” he whispered and looked away from him, keeping his eyes on the wall in front of him.

  He heard him move and then he was hitting him again, hard; hard enough for him to feel the wetness on his back after only a few strikes. He remembered the agony of it when Hassinger did it to him, remembered trying not to scream then, and it surprised him that he wanted to scream now, that he wanted to ask him to stop. He couldn’t let himself do that, but his wanting to embarrassed him. He clenched his teeth hard enough to hurt and counted to himself.

  Max was at thirty-five when he stopped again and walked around him. “Can this please be over now? You’re sufficiently bloodied. Let it go. Please, just let it go!”

  “No,” he said quietly, staring at the man, and turned his face away from him again.

  Max grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look at him, his face furious. “I am not doing this, I’m just not. We’re done here!” and he threw the whip on the floor.

  “You chose to try me, Max. Now you can finish this, or I’ll get someone else to do it. We’re not done until I say we’re done. It’s how this works, remember?” he spat at him through clenched teeth, not trying to hide the anger from his voice, and he turned away, ignoring the pain on the man’s face.

  He could hear him take short, loud breaths, could hear him panicking and he wished Max let someone else finish this after all, but he always knew he wouldn’t. Knew that Max felt guilty for all of this and that he wouldn’t let anyone else take on that burden. He waited, keeping his eyes on the wall, breathing in and out, wanting to scream at Max to hurry up and finish it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He finally heard him move behind him again, and the sound of the whip in his hand, and hoped this didn’t take too much longer.

  He felt in danger of passing out for the first time when Max got to sixty-two and dimly heard Brody and Loren screaming at Max to please just stop. He blocked it and concentrated on keeping his eyes open, feeling that he needed to do that so he wouldn’t fall, and somewhere in the back of his mind knowing that Max would stop hitting him as soon as he closed his eyes, and remembering that he couldn’t let that happen. He heard Brody’s voice much closer now, and then his blurry face was in front of him, his voice begging him to please stop this. He turned his head away.

  It stopped hurting after a while, though he still felt the whip hitting him, and it surprised him that it didn’t hurt anymore. His body was shaking, he could feel that much, and he could feel the warmth running wetly down his back, but no pain. He smiled at the feeling of it. And then he knew what it was that made him not feel the pain anymore, that his body gave out on him and he was falling into darkness after all, and he was ashamed when he felt hands on him, and then the cold water running over him in streams, ashamed that he didn’t win this.

  Brody was sitting on the edge of his bed when he woke up, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. He smiled when he saw him, and then remembered everything that happened that led to him being here, and closed his eyes, hiding from him.

  Brody grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. “Welcome back,” he whispered, looking every shade of sad for some reason. “Max just left. He’s been watching over you for two days, in case you wanted to know. I haven’t seen my father cry in years, Riley. What you had him do… it broke him. I hope it was worth it,” he said softly.

  He looked at him, feeling only a little guilty, but angry, too, angry at all of them. “Take me home, Brody,” he asked, wishing he didn’t sound so bloody weak.

  Brody shook his head. “I can’t. You can’t move yet, might not be able to move for days. You are stuck here, and getting pumped full of drugs until your sister releases you, and I don’t see her doing that for a while.”

  He turned to him then. “Ams?” he asked more quietly than he wanted to.

  “Laurel told her…. It wasn’t something we could have kept from her. She is still here. She said you should have just killed him when Laurel told her what you did. I’m pretty sure she meant it, too.”

  Brody stood and went to the window, his back to him. He let him be for a few long minutes, watching his hands splayed out on the windowsill, the tension in how still he held himself. He felt he needed to say something to him, to apologize for putting him through all of this, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, not without having to talk about things he didn’t want to tell him, things that were too private to share even with him.

  “Now what, Brody?” he finally asked when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

  Brody faced him. “Now we do what we always do, same as we would for anybody else, just the way you bloody wanted. We pretend none of this ever happened, and move on. That means you are back on the council. It also means you don’t get to ever mention this, or hold it against any of us or yourself. It means you let this go”–he walked over to him, crouching by his bed, and put his hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently, and then leaned in and kissed him on the back of the head–“I thought you’d bloody die at that post.”

  “That was the plan, but I couldn’t even do that right,” he whispered, and closed his eyes, feeling a strange peace at Brody being there.

  He felt, more than heard Brody move after a while, and then the door closing softly behind him and he let himself drift off then, thinking of this strange place they all moved into and the bloody code they felt they needed as if people couldn’t be trusted to do the right thing without the risk of punishment. He never thought of that before, but it struck him as strange that they still managed to be like the Alliance or the Zoriner Councils they despised so much in that way. That they saw it fit to execute or banish or lash people. People like Trevor, who only did what he was brought up to do, and who hated himself for it more than he’d ever seen anyone do before…. And him. As if his wanting to hurt the man who took Ams from him, raped her, likely tortured her, and then damn near killed her made him a monster; as if he were broken for it. He couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t sit on that bloody Council and do this to someone else.

  He was done with it, the code, and all that went with it. He wanted to fish and tend to his garden and, if it came to it, take a bullet for the few people he loved, people whose names he’d known for all these years. Everyone else … he was done worrying about everyone else. Ams mattered. And Ella. And Brody. And the bloody baby, the baby he couldn’t give her.

  And he thought not for the first time that she’d have stayed with him if it wasn’t for the baby. If they didn’t turn on each other over all the sadness in her and all the guilt in him, and he was grateful then for whatever drugs Ella was pumping into him that made his mind go fuzzy and soft, that made him not feel the pain of what he’d done to the only girl he ever loved.

  6

  Broken Bonds

  Fuller, August 30, 2244, Reston, Med Wing.

  Max knew he was proud, has always known that, but he never thought he’d t
ake it that far. And when he stubbornly insisted on making him whip him, he thought for sure the kid would make him stop or close his eyes, so he could stop it for him, but he seemed all kinds of angry at him when he asked him to let it go, even after his whole back was bleeding, and he could see it in his eyes that he’d rather die than let himself pass out or ask him to stop.

  He hit him as hard as he’s ever hit anyone, harder than he wanted to, because he thought it would help get it over with faster, and in part, because he was angry at him for making him go through with it. The kid took it, not flinching or making any noise but that one gasp, took it for more than was reasonable, and he knew for sure he would have let him kill him if he had any kind of a choice about it. But he knew, too, that he’d lost far too much blood to stay on his feet; he made sure of that.

  Ella knocked the kid out and went to work on him as soon as they got him to the Med floor. Brody and Lancer and he sat in the hallway, waiting, and it seemed like hours until she finally came out of the room, looking angrier than he’d ever seen her.

  “Which one of you soldiers did that to him?” she asked in a clipped voice.

  Max stood and walked up to her. “I did, Ella,” he whispered, looking into her sad brown eyes, Riley’s eyes.

  She took a step towards him and hit him hard across the face, over and over again, not saying a word to him.

  He felt blood in the corner of his mouth after a while, but didn’t dare raise a hand to wipe at it, didn’t dare move at all.

  Lancer whispered something to her and she stopped hitting him then and walked away. Max told Brody and Lancer to get lost without facing them, and that he’d stay with him until he wakes up, and they did, without a word.