by J. L. Lyon
301 moved his blade into the ready position, and waited. Blaine’s eyes snapped open and in one motion he twirled around and aimed his blade straight at 301’s head. The two wooden swords collided with a resounding crack, and before the captain could fully recover from his rival’s brutal swing, Blaine unleashed a flurry of attacks upon him and forced him to take a few steps backward. Rage began to build inside him, and for the first time that day he let loose.
The trainees watched in stunned silence as the two men fought, both becoming more entrenched in their fury with every clash of their weapons. 301 found himself wishing with every successive attack that he would deliver a fatal blow, and knew that Blaine must have thought the same.
“That will do,” McCall said. “Cease.”
But the spiral of madness was already too great, and the two men barely heard him, let alone heeded his command. They fought to kill one another, and neither wanted to be the first to stand down.
“I said cease!” McCall yelled. “The duel is over!”
By that time the others had gotten involved, cheering on their favorite champion like adoring fans. The jeers and calls just served to spur the duel on further against the admiral’s wishes, which could not go without consequence. McCall moved forward in a fury of his own, drawing his real Spectral Gladius and activating it between the two partners. Both wooden blades flew down upon the illuminated one and were cut to pieces.
Blaine and 301 stood still and breathless, staring one another down over the humming light of the admiral’s blade. McCall, clearly seething, still found it within himself to speak calmly, “As long as you are under my command you will heed every order I give you, or I swear upon all that is holy you will be sorry. And from this you may learn another lesson: never become so entrenched in a single duel that you cannot perceive attacks that may come at you from the side or behind.”
Blaine threw his broken practice weapon on the ground and fell back into line without a word.
“That’s enough dueling practice for today,” McCall frowned. “I think I’ve seen clearly what we need to improve upon. Take about half an hour and meet me in the palace briefing room.”
The line of Specters broke off as the trainees headed back into the palace, but both 301 and Liz remained behind. She flipped her golden hair back behind her head and started to walk away as though to ignore him.
He raced to catch up with her, “Sorry to defeat you so quickly, Liz. But you did ask me not to take it easy on you.”
She gave him a sidelong glance and grinned, “Yes, I suppose I did. You know, 301, you were pretty impressive out there today. Until that little tussle with Blaine, it was obvious that no one would ever be able to challenge your captainship.”
“I would have had him in a few more seconds, if the admiral hadn’t stepped in.”
“Sure you would.”
301 shook his head, “So about this slave thing…it’s kind of weird, huh?”
“What you do in your personal time is none of my business,” her smile disappeared and 301 could almost see the walls going up. “And please don’t change that. I don’t want to hear about it.”
“I told you, nothing happened,” he insisted. “I just thought it was strange that the MWR would give her to me like that.”
She rolled her eyes, “I think it’s pretty obvious why.”
“Alright then,” 301 stopped and stared at her. “If you’re so intelligent, enlighten me.”
She sighed and looked around to make sure no one was nearby to overhear them. “Come on, 301. Everyone within two degrees of the hierarchy knows there is a political battle going on between the MWR and Premier Sullivan. Specter falls under the Ruling Council’s purview, so what better way for the MWR to get some of that power back than to buy off the unit’s captain?”
His eyes narrowed, “You think he used her to buy my allegiance? But why? Under Systemic Law the wishes of the MWR take precedence over those of the Ruling Council. If he wants something from me, all he has to do is order it.”
“Not if the Ruling Council gains enough support to change that law,” Liz said darkly. “Just be careful, 301. Getting in the middle of something like this is not exactly the safest move.”
“You worried about me?”
She shook her head and walked off, “I think I’d like to spend the rest of my break alone, thanks. Say hello to your slave for me. Or perhaps your ghost,” she said with a hint of humor in her voice. “On second thought, don’t say hello to him. Wouldn’t want him to come haunt me instead.”
“Very funny,” he said. “Just for that, next time he appears I’m sending him straight to you.”
She disappeared through the door of the palace, making 301 the last Specter in the courtyard. He was not, however, the only person there. Premier Sullivan stood a ways off in the distance, watching him. 301 had no idea how long the Chief Advisor had been there, but he grew uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze. With a sinking sensation in his gut that warned him there might be something to Liz’s theory, he walked back into the palace to be shielded from those prying, discerning eyes.
-X-
“Some say that kingdoms rise and fall like the sun, and that no man can predict with certainty which kingdom will rule the rest in the years to come. The empire that rules today was not here two hundred years ago, and may not be two hundred years hence. These changes in the balance of power are brought about by many things: a stronger force, famine, disease, the genius or cunning of a ruler, take your pick. But for the Age of the Republics, the period we now call the Old World, the culprit that upset the balance of power was technological advancement.”
The ten Specter champions sat listening intently to McCall in the briefing room as he attempted to give them a proper perspective for the battle they had been selected to wage. Occasionally, he illuminated maps on the wall screens to give them a better idea of how the Old World was divided. The map zoomed in on the region currently known as Division One.
“Alexandria sits not far from the former capital of the United States of America—a city we now know as the Wilderness Sector, or the Northeastern Ruins. In the latter half of the twenty-first century, an energy crisis struck the world. The price of fossil fuels, which the greater part of civilization used for survival and comfort, skyrocketed beyond the ability of the normal consumer to afford. Unrest gripped the world and the United States in particular, whose citizens threatened revolution if something would not be done. And so the government assembled a special team to deal with the energy crisis, to find a replacement for fossil fuels. With new advancements in technology and a greater understanding of elements and their bonding capabilities, this team produced a miraculous result—one that we today take for granted.”
McCall held up a small vial of glowing liquid, “Solithium. The discovery that saved a nation, but doomed an era. On the surface it was the kind of power source only imagined in fiction: renewable, inexpensive, and capable of harnessing the most abundant energy source available to us…the sun.
“As most of you know, Solithium, though composed of common elements found in nature, is very complex and combines elements in ways that nature perhaps did not intend. Fused together and left as they are, these elements form a quite useless liquid. However, when exposed to direct sunlight, Solithium absorbs light, heat, and radiation, and charges up like the fuel cell of a battery, giving us a new kind of fuel on which our technology can operate. And not just any fuel—Solithium presented an energy source exponentially more powerful than any known fossil fuel, meaning that many areas of technological advancement that had previously been limited were made possible. Point in case, the Spectral Gladius, as well as a wide range of other weapons and transport vehicles.
“When Solithium was introduced on the world market it was tantamount to a new industrial revolution, and ushered in a Golden Age for the nations who had the means and the formula to produce it. But the replacement of oil, the previously dominant en
ergy source, did not come without consequences.”
The world map zoomed in on the desert areas of western Asia, what was now part of the desolate Wasteland. “This is the region that provided most of the world’s oil. As you can imagine, the advent of Solithium production plunged their oil-dependent economies into extreme poverty. Resentment grew in the region like a cancer, and before long conflict became inevitable.”
A small dot appeared and next to it 301 read the name, Babylon. “These events led to a short period of time called the Persian Resurgence, where the poverty-stricken nations of the region abandoned their long-standing disparities and united under one banner. This new Persia became a military autocracy whose sole political stake was to capture wealth from the countries who had benefited so greatly from the advent of Solithium power.
“And so, seventeen years before the Systemic Era, an army of Persians under the command of Ahmed al-Zarif began their march.”
The map zoomed out and showed red slowly spreading outward from Babylon, growing like a plague across Asia and pushing deeper south into Africa. The advance stopped briefly and then resumed again, covering every landmass in the Eastern Hemisphere save three: the British Isles, the Iberian Peninsula, and the former islands of Japan. Then the world on the walls turned and red began advancing inland from both sides on the continents in the Western Hemisphere. The southern was overcome first, and then the northern one, albeit far more slowly.
“The last stand of the Persian Resurgence took place here in the center of this continent,” McCall explained. “The Persians emerged victorious, but not before the last soldiers of the opposing side dealt them one final, crippling blow. A Solithium-powered nuclear missile was launched from the American Midwest before the Persians completed their victory. It’s target: the newly constructed metropolis of Babylon. The leaders of Persia, you see, had gathered in the city to await final confirmation that the worldwide conquest had been concluded successfully. Even generals left their troops to participate in the celebration. But in that moment, they let their guard down.”
A single line appeared on the screen, originating in the American Midwest and following the trajectory that the Solithium missile took over the ocean toward Babylon.
“The city was leveled,” McCall said as the simulation ended. “The leaders of Persia were annihilated in a single stroke. With its central authority and major military leaders out of the picture, instability and disunity broke the overextended empire apart. Each region fell under the absolute authority of the military official who managed to take the land first. Thus the modern feudal period began.
“And this, I believe, is where you know the rest of the story. The MWR and a group of his followers managed to locate and commandeer the lost fleet of the United States, and with it they subdued the feudal leaders and began to rebuild the broken and war-torn world. To prevent something like the Persian Resurgence from ever happening again, the World System was instituted. Napoleon Alexander and a body of representatives known as the Ruling Council would dictate the laws and ordinances of the world through their soldiers and division leaders. The System is thus regarded as history’s final destination—the perfection of government. That is why all your uniforms bear the inscription Pax Systema, for only through the System will we attain peace.
“But there were those who did not desire peace, as some who bore disdain for the World System banded together against us, seeking to bring about our downfall at all costs. And it is here that the War of Dominion began.”
20
TIME PASSED QUICKLY in the following weeks. Though Specter training turned out to be more grueling than 301 could ever have imagined, the evenings he spent with Grace provided a much-needed respite. There were days when he felt as though he lived two lives.
In the first life, the one with which he was more accustomed, his comrades became slowly more adept with the Gladius and presented a better challenge during training sessions. He remained the best swordsman by far, except perhaps when matched against Derek Blaine. Much to his chagrin, most of his time was spent in Blaine’s company, as McCall brought his partnership program into full swing. Unfortunately this meant he saw very little of Liz, though what time they did share seemed strained and uncomfortable. 301 couldn’t tell if the tension came from jealousy or simple frustration, but then again he didn’t have much time to think about it either.
Blaine kept him on his toes, proving his equal at nearly everything. He never passed up a chance to make 301 look like a failure; neither did he hide his belief that 301 didn’t deserve to be Specter’s captain. But this only served to make 301 strive harder than he would have otherwise, to shame Derek at his own game and prove himself worthy.
Needless to say, their intense dislike for one another did not abate. But as rivals, there were times when one could not deny the other’s exemplary work. On many occasions the other trainees were simply left behind as 301 and Blaine became quick masters of every new fighting technique and battle tactic McCall threw their way: combination Gladius and handgun combat, Halo drops, counter-ambushes, scaling buildings, and even piloting Halo hovercraft. If it was thinkable in a combat situation, the Specters were expected to learn it.
At least one day a week was devoted to organizing mock battle situations and commanding troops—a common function of Specter at the height of their power fifteen years before, and one McCall evidently thought would be needed again. At Premier Sullivan’s request, they also spent a significant part of the week in interviews with lower-level political advisors, who attempted to give them perspective on the rebels and their motivations.
But 301 already had all the perspective he needed, for his second life—the one in which he felt out of place and somewhat unsure—was spent in the company of the rebel who had become his slave.
Grace proved true to her word, and 301 received his best training with the Gladius from her. Their sessions were limited since they had only one weapon, but she taught him things that no World System trainer ever could. For the World System there was only one style of combat: strike hard and fast to fell your opponent as swiftly as possible. But Silent Thunder, he learned, did not fight this way. To them, Gladius combat was both an art and a link to their proud history.
“Fighting with a Gladius is about more than just one man trying to kill another,” she explained to him one day during his first week of training. “In fact, we often say that the greatest warrior is one who can defeat his opponent without dealing a fatal blow. For what is the greater victory: killing the greatest warrior in the world, or convincing that warrior to join your side?”
“Killing him,” 301 replied confidently. “Then the victor becomes the greatest warrior in the world, and can serve his own cause.”
She shook her head, “No, that’s not the answer I would choose. No matter how great the warrior may believe himself to be, he really is no stronger than the man who watches his back. In Silent Thunder we fight as a team, trusting that the man beside us will protect us from attacks we may not anticipate. In fact, most of the warriors in Silent Thunder would use their own bodies as a shield to protect an ally from being killed. So I’ll ask again, 301: would you rather kill that warrior, or have him watching your back?”
He smiled, “Well, when you put it that way…”
“Which reminds me,” she said. “How are things going between you and Derek Blaine?”
His smile immediately faded. 301 had been lashing out about Blaine all week, and at every turn Grace encouraged him to be more patient with his partner. Eventually, she was certain, something would happen to bring the two together as allies, but 301 thought deep down that his rivalry with Blaine could only end with one of them killing the other.
“Things are the same,” he replied shortly, reaching for the chest where they concealed Novus Vita. “Shall we get started?”
Grace placed her hand on the chest to keep it closed, “Actually, I think we practiced with this last night, if you remember.
That means it’s my turn.” She smiled and took a seat in one of the chairs nearby.
Though disappointed he wouldn’t learn anything new that night about Gladius combat, he did like to hear Grace talk—especially on subjects she was passionate about. In those moments it was as if he could see into her soul, and the feeling was exhilarating.
“Do you remember where we left off two nights ago?”
301 nodded, “You were telling me about growing up in the Wilderness, and how difficult it was.”
“Yes,” she said, and her eyes went blank as her mind traveled back there. “The Wilderness is the only place left where Undocumented persons, such as I was before I came here, can live. When the MWR took over he only chose to rebuild those places that were of strategic use to him, and allowed the rest to rot in the ruin that the war had wrought. That’s why the World System is basically just a conglomerate of cities. Their outlying areas fell into neglect, and people came together in an attempt to survive. But then, when Alexander imposed his oppressive laws and restrictions on all within his domain, some chose to return to the Wilderness to preserve their freedom. Silent Thunder was one of those groups.”
“In my childhood, it was said that the Undocumented live little better than animals, scrounging around for scraps of food and living in the worst possible conditions.”
“That’s not far from the truth,” she said. “But my father always managed to ensure I was well-taken care of. I know there were many days when he went without food so I wouldn’t go hungry.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a life to me.”
“Maybe it wasn’t,” she said. “But to some, it would be less of a life to live without freedom. Freedom to love and marry who we will, to seek our dreams, to worship as we please—those are the things we value most, not fine food and expensive comforts.”
