by J. L. Lyon
Liz sat next to 301, but he didn’t want to be as friendly with her in front of the others. The last thing he needed—or that she needed, for that matter—was for the others to see him showing her any favoritism.
The servants placed each dish on the table slowly and then backed away, careful not to break the tension and find themselves a target for its wrath. After a few more moments of silence, 301 sighed, knowing it was ridiculous. He smiled and reached out first, “Eat up, Specters. I expect we’ll need our strength in the coming months.”
Silently—but with a little less trepidation—the trainees followed suit and reached forward to enjoy the feast. Just when 301 thought things might not be so difficult after all, Derek Blaine shattered the hope, “So tell us, Captain: how did you pull off your newest promotion?”
301 preferred the silence if conversation meant getting into another argument with Blaine, especially in front of the others. For a moment he tried to ignore the question, but saw from the expectant stares of the Specters that a response was necessary. “I was chosen for this position by the MWR and the Ruling Council, Specter Blaine. Do you doubt their competency to choose their leaders?”
Blaine’s eyes flashed, “Of course not. I was only hoping you would enlighten the rest of us on how to jump from the bottom to the top so quickly. After all, you were just a first lieutenant, correct? Every man here was at least one rank above you—aside from our dear friend Aurora, of course. So what’s your secret?”
As the Specters shifted glances between them—some anxious, some eager—301 fixed Blaine with a cold stare. What was this guy’s problem? Regardless of his family name, he was still obligated to accept the dominance of a superior. Did he have trouble following his Great Army general, too? Somehow 301 doubted it. Be wary of him, the chief advisor’s voice echoed in his head. He’ll have his sights set on your position the moment he lays eyes on you.
And McCall wanted him to trust the man.
“Well, Captain?” Derek pressed. “Have nothing to say?”
“Watch your mouth, Blaine,” Liz snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And you do, dear Elizabeth?” Blaine asked condescendingly. “Remind me again of your qualifications for Specter? I don’t think I ever heard of you before yesterday.”
“That’s enough,” 301’s voice went icily cold. “I will not sit here and listen to you tear down the qualifications of my team. For your information, Specter Aurora is one of only three soldiers in the history of the System to make first lieutenant before the age of twenty-two. You were the first and I was the second. And as for me—”
“You mean you haven’t heard, Blaine?” Specter Dodson called from the other end of the table. “I figured you, with all your connections, would have known before the rest of us.”
Liz sneered, “Yes, daddy’s little boy, aren’t you, Blaine?”
Blaine’s lips pursed together in anger, but 301 saw his chance to show leadership and put a stop to the exchange, “I said that’s enough, all of you. You will not question one another’s qualifications again, or I will have you brought up on charges for insubordination.”
Crestfallen, Liz turned away from him. 301 hated for the threat to seem directed at her…she had only been sticking up for him, after all. However, as Captain he could not take sides, even if one had set itself up in his defense. He went on, “What I’m sure Specter Dodson is suggesting, Blaine, is for you to access the video archives for the Hall of Mirrors at approximately thirteen-thirty yesterday. Perhaps afterwards you will be satisfied with my selection as captain.”
“He won’t have to wait that long.” Specter Marcus said. “I hear they plan to show everyone tonight once the feast is over.”
This was news to 301, though he couldn’t really say he was surprised. What better way to show what Specter’s reinstatement really meant than to display one in action?
In any case, Blaine said little else for the remainder of the feast aside from some low muttering to Specter Marcus, who sat beside him. Liz and 301 ended up in a lengthy conversation about the World System’s battle tactics in the Triad, all friendliness replaced with a callous professionalism. He supposed he deserved it, but the change stung all the same.
All of the trainees, including Blaine, were interested to hear the first-hand account of Silent Thunder’s ambush in the Wilderness Sector. They listened attentively as he described the event, and paid particular attention to details about their fighting technique and his conversation with Jacob Sawyer. 301 realized that as the only one to have seen Sawyer and lived for many years, he possessed knowledge that could be gained nowhere else.
By the end of the feast, the Specter table buzzed almost as loudly as the other three. 301 stole a glance at Admiral McCall, who watched them from the Ruling Council’s table. Looking very pleased, McCall returned to conversation with the chief advisors once he noticed 301’s eyes upon him.
Specter Marcus was soon proven right, as at the conclusion of the feast the MWR stood and announced, “Gentlemen, if I could have your attention please: we have prepared something special for you. I’m sure you have all heard about the event in the Hall of Mirrors yesterday—and that you have doubts such an event could ever have taken place. Now you shall have your proof. If you will direct your attention to the projectors.”
301 looked back toward the palace as the holographic projectors come to life. There were four, set an equal distance apart in what 301 guessed to be the exact measurements of the Hall of Mirrors. They worked in tandem to create a perfect three-dimensional replica of the event, allowing 301 to watch as his digital self struggled desperately to survive. In his mind he remembered the desperation, the fear, and the nearness of death. The hologram showed none of those things. It was an odd experience, though the thrill each moment brought to the crowd was well worth his discomfort. When the soldier had him in his sights at the end even Liz reached out for him in fear, but she quickly caught herself and drew away. 301 shook his head at that. If that soldier’s gun hadn’t been empty, it would have been me dead instead of him. One bullet, and the entire story would have changed. It put things in perspective.
At the conclusion of the recording, all stares settled upon him with a renewed wonder and sense of respect. 301 thought he detected a hint of admiration even from Derek Blaine, but he didn’t want to count his blessings.
By that time night had fallen, plunging the courtyard into a darkness only held at bay by the light of the candles flickering on the tables. Through the fickle light 301 saw Premier Sullivan’s silhouette as he rose from his table and made his own announcement, “On behalf of the Ruling Council I would like to thank you all for your support of the Specter reformation. You have seen just how powerful the World System will be with the return of the Spectral-adepts, and so I say woe to any who oppose us when this force becomes operational. Now that the feast is concluded, it is time for the next stage of the night’s entertainment, which the MWR has prepared for the new Specters and for those of you who wish to remain to mingle with them. Attractions will range from games of chance to escorts, of which the Specters shall have their first pick. And for you, trainees,” Sullivan said. “The Ruling Council has awarded five thousand System credits to each of you to use tonight as you see fit.”
301 could feel waves of excitement emanating from his comrades. Nothing like gambling and women to get a soldier’s blood pumping.
“Gentlemen!” the MWR addressed their table. “I congratulate you on your promotion to Specter. I hope you have enjoyed the ceremony and the feast, and that you have eaten your fill. Now take your fill of other pleasures that are yours by right. But before we release you to indulge in the games, allow me to introduce your escorts!”
Alexander reached in his pocket for his earphone and put it in, “Bring up the lights, and send them out.”
Light illuminated the courtyard as the palace doors burst open and a line of fifty women streamed out, each we
aring one of two expressions: reluctant obedience, or sultry anticipation. Dressed in expensive clothing, it appeared from afar as if each was a part of a noble family. But once they came closer the marks on their forearms could be seen more clearly—the marks of slaves. These had most likely been borrowed from among wealthy slave owners eager to please the MWR.
“Well,” Liz said under her breath. “I suppose this is one reward I won’t be enjoying.”
Seeing his opportunity to patch things up, 301 whispered back, “Well if you’d like, you can be my escort for the night.”
At her silence he turned to see her glaring at him, “Your escort?
Immediately realizing how his words might be misconstrued, 301 shook his head, “I didn’t mean…not escort, like that…I meant…as a friend…fellow soldier?”
Her eyes narrowed, “A friend, huh? Well I suppose, if that’s what you want.” She flipped back her blonde hair and turned a cold shoulder on him. 301 rolled his eyes…he would never understand women.
The others—thankfully—were not paying any attention to them. They only had eyes for the women now lined up before the tables like choice cuts on a buffet. But 301 felt no excitement. He was troubled by the gift…and more so, troubled that he was troubled by it. This was the way of the world: the strong dominated the weak. He caught the admiral studying him closely from the Council’s table and looked away to conceal his discomfort.
That was when Specter Tyrell stood and addressed the table, “Alright men! The MWR has been kind enough to give us first pick, so I say that our Captain should be the one to choose first of all! What say you, Specter Captain? Which of these will accompany you tonight?”
“Perhaps you should choose two!” Specter Dodson chimed in. “After seeing that recording, I doubt one woman could handle you!”
The men broke into a stream of wild laughter, joined even by many of the admirals and generals at the next table. 301 felt his face flush, and was secretly glad for the darkness in which he sat. He smiled at the comment, though his insides churned with distaste. Deep down he didn’t want to be a part of this, but how was he to save face?
301 stood to his feet and held out his hands to quiet the catcalls of his men, “Much as I appreciate the honor, Specter, I yield first choice to all of you. Consider it my gift.”
As the men darted forward and almost tripped over their feet to reach their favorites, 301 turned to walk in the opposite direction. Admiral McCall blocked his path, and leaned in close so no one else could hear, “Disappointed, Captain?”
“No, sir,” 301 replied. “Just caught off-guard, I suppose.”
“Well, what did you expect?”
“I wasn’t expecting anything, sir. But I don’t feel these women should be—” His protest died on the air as the doors to the palace opened once again and another procession emerged from within. As this new group walked toward them across the courtyard, 301 felt his heart thump hard in his chest, though he couldn’t have said why.
Five people made up the group: four palace guards and one woman dressed in white. The guards flanked her on every side, so it wasn’t until they drew within a few yards that he caught a good glimpse of her. By that time she had stolen the attentions of every man in the courtyard, for none of the other women matched her beauty.
Long dark hair fell in gentle curls just past her shoulders, framing a face that—though grim—he could only describe as stunning. She held her head high with dignity, and he saw in her face the pride and defiance of a warrior. 301’s gaze traveled down her right arm, and he saw there no mark. Yet she had been bound with ropes. So what then? This woman was not a slave? Why was she being led into their presence as one?
The guards bade her ascend a small one-person stage, almost as though she were about to be put up for auction. She did not appear pleased with the situation, but seemed determined not to show fear or weakness. Like a queen she stepped onto the platform, not once lowering her eyes to look upon the crowd. As soon as the guards broke off, a small group of Specters made a beeline for her, undoubtedly with the belief that they might enjoy her company for the evening.
301 turned back to McCall and asked, “Who is she?”
“I’m not sure,” the admiral said. “All I know is that I saw a similar event, once—whoever that girl is, she is not here to play mistress for one night only. She is here to be presented.”
“Presented? For what?”
“Ownership.”
301 looked back at her with pity, imagining her life wasted at the beck and call of an old army general.
“So if you would admire her beauty,” McCall went on. “You should do so while you have the chance. Once she is given, it is unlikely you will ever see her again.”
“Forgive me, Admiral,” the Specter Captain shook his head. “But I won’t act as my comrades, and treat her like a caged animal up for auction.”
“Men are driven by their desires, Specter Captain. I consider it a good sign that they are still capable of responding to such instincts, deplorable though they may be. It means that their time in the Great Army has not fully robbed them of passion or ambition. Distasteful as this practice would have been in the Old World, it is an indicator of future success for us.”
“All the same, I suspect today will be difficult enough for her, what with losing her freedom to a man she doesn’t know or care anything about,” 301 said sadly. “I don’t want to add to her misery.”
The old admiral gave 301 a sidelong glance, as though not quite sure what to make of him. “You know, Specter Captain, in a better world your empathy would trump their selfish passion any day. But we do not live in that world, and you would do well to keep such opinions to yourself. However—as you are one of the highest ranking soldiers in this courtyard—you have the power to remake this moment for her as you see fit…if you so choose.” McCall smiled briefly, and then walked away.
15
FOR A GOOD WHILE after the admiral’s departure, 301 tried his best to remain detached. But as the lewd comments of his comrades reached his ears, his anger only grew. No one, slave or free, deserved to be treated with such disrespect. But Admiral McCall was right: such opinions would not stand in the World System, where the cardinal rule was domination by the strongest. If you had power, it was expected that you use it to gain what you wanted, no matter how base the desire.
So what did he want?
“You have to help her.”
301’s heart dropped at the voice, the very one he had spent the past day and a half trying to forget. He looked down to see the dark-haired boy standing obstinately in front of him, hands on his hips as he watched 301 with accusing eyes. He spoke again with a righteous outrage, “You can’t let them do this to her! She’s a good person!”
“How do you know that?” 301 snapped in a low whisper. “And how did you get out here anyway? You better go on back home, before someone else sees you.”
“I can take care of myself,” the boy replied. “But I don’t think I can save her. Only you can. Please! She’s my best friend!”
“You’re lying,” 301 countered. “She was only just captured today. There’s no way you could have met her before. And what do you mean, she’s your best friend? She’s a grown woman, and you…you’re just a kid!”
The boy seemed a bit confused on this point. He looked up at 301, and then turned back toward the woman on the small stage. He shook his head, “I may not be as big as you, but I won’t let them hurt her. If you won’t help then I will!” 301 watched in horror as the boy took off toward the stage, knowing this couldn’t possibly end well. If the child was caught here, it could mean any manner of punishment for him and his mother: physical discipline, expulsion from the palace, or even execution. But just as he opened his mouth to cry out for the boy to come back, another voice stopped him.
“301?” He whirled around to see Liz eyeing him strangely. “Who are you talking to?”
At that moment 301 looked ba
ck in the direction where he had last seen the boy, only to see that he was nowhere to be found. He must have hidden somewhere, waiting for his chance to help the woman. 301 turned back to Liz and smiled, “No one. I was just thinking out loud I guess.”
“It’s nice to know that some of us have more things on our mind than who will warm our bed tonight.” She stepped up beside him and nodded toward the woman in white. “It’s awful how they treat her. Cruel, even.”
“I know. The admiral says she is to be given to someone tonight.”
“The giving of a slave is a great honor,” Liz said. “Archaic though it is, owning another human is a grant of power. Rule with strength over servant, over subordinate, over lover, over friend. Isn’t that the System’s way?”
“So what about you and I?” 301 asked with a smirk. “Who ruled who?”
“That depends,” she laughed. “Were we friends, or lovers?”
301 met her gaze, and his pulse quickened, “I don’t know. You tell me.”
Liz leaned into him, her lips drawing near to his. And then, when she was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath, she whispered in an amused voice, “I’ll leave you to wonder, for now. I think my taste for celebration has gone a bit stale. After all, I wouldn’t want to tear down any of my comrades. My captain might have me punished.” She withdrew from him with a menacing flash in her eyes, and made her way toward the palace. He watched her go with a knot in his stomach, hoping she would now consider his previous slight avenged. He would need her support in the days to come. Without it, Derek Blaine would see that his captainship failed. 301 caught sight of Blaine standing apart from the others, looking on their behavior with a dignified disdain. Their stares met briefly, after which Blaine set his glass of wine back down on the table and followed Liz’s path back to the palace.
The two Specters’ departures went unnoticed by the members of Central Command, who had already begun to lose their fortitude in their drinks. Many had selected their escorts for the night and made their way to the games set up nearby, but those same four Specters still surrounded the slave girl, attempting to grab her attention with lascivious words. She continued to stand tall and regal, as detached from them as a glorious statue in a crowd of the unworthy.
