by J. L. Lyon
Guards waited in front of the doorway opposite the entrance, and 301 counted ten—surely not the full force of a man this paranoid about his safety.
The caretaker turned back to face him, “As agreed, Specter Captain, your two companions will wait here in the foyer while I take you to Sir Collins.”
301 nodded and turned back to whisper to Derek and Liz, “Listen…if you feel threatened for even a moment, don’t hesitate to defend yourselves. Just because they’ve let us get this far doesn’t mean they don’t still plan to kill us eventually.”
“Gee, Captain, great pep talk,” Derek said sarcastically. “Maybe you want us to write down what they’re going to carve on our tombstones, just in case?”
“What about you?” Liz asked, ignoring Derek’s jibe. “What if they do turn hostile?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he replied. “They provoke you, take them down. If you can’t take them down, you fight your way out of here and wait for the Great Army’s arrival. Do not risk your lives coming back for me. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” Derek said, seemingly unbothered. But he could tell his orders did not sit well with Liz, and there was something touching about that fact.
He turned to the caretaker, “I’m ready. Take me to him.”
22
301 FOLLOWED THE CARETAKER past the line of stoic guards and ventured deeper into the estate, noting how the subtle quiet of death seemed to reign in every room and hall. Photographs lined the wall in various places, most filled with three figures: a woman and two children—a girl and a boy. Their frozen faces displayed happiness and contentment when they appeared together in any combination. But in roughly one out of every five, a fourth person appeared with them. 301 guessed that the fourth was Sir Collins, and couldn’t help but note the diminished happiness of the other three every time he was present, as though the camera had captured a hidden tension among the family. He saw only one exception: in the final photograph, which was also the most recent, all four seemed happier than they had ever been.
Suddenly it crossed his mind that there were no photographs in the Blaine Mansion. He hadn’t thought anything of it the few times he had been there, but seeing the variety of pictures on Collins’ wall made him wonder why the Blaines chose not to display a single one.
Such questions could wait for a less dangerous time.
The caretaker paused at the doorway to Sir Collins’ office and gave 301 a final word of warning, “You have fifteen minutes, Specter Captain, and you should know that the guards of this estate have sworn their loyalties to the Collins family. They will defend it at need, even unto death. If you try anything—if for even one moment we believe you are here to do Sir Collins harm—we will kill your companions. And then, we will kill you. Any form of aggression would be most unwise.”
301 nodded, hoping that if it did come to conflict Derek and Liz would be more than capable of handling themselves.
“He is inside,” the caretaker motioned for him to go in. “I will await you in the hall.” He turned and walked back the way they had come, leaving 301 to face the room alone. He stepped inside the office and turned to the right, where Sir Collins waited for him behind his desk.
“Specter Captain 301-14-A,” Collins sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Thank you for seeing me, Sir Collins,” 301 said cordially as he came to a stop in front of the noble.
“I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet Alexandria’s newest celebrity,” the noble smiled. “What can I do for you?”
301 took a deep breath, “As you know, a recent spike in rebel activity within Division One led the Ruling Council to reform Specter about six weeks ago. Part of our mandate has been to cut off the rebellion’s supply line and make them unable to continue their resistance.”
“And you believe I can help with that how?” Collins asked. His face was lined with stress and even a little animosity, which told 301 he needed to be careful.
“The hierarchy believes the primary lines of support for the rebellion come from within the nobility,” 301 replied, hoping to elicit some sort of reaction. “We thought you might have some insight on where we might begin.”
The noble shifted in his chair, “You mean you want me to name some of them as traitors. Most of these men are friends of mine, Specter Captain, so you’ll understand if I don’t want to involve them in your witch hunt.”
“But surely you view treason against the System as a personal betrayal?” 301 pushed. “I’m only asking you to help us do our job in bringing these traitors to justice.”
“I’ve seen the justice of Specter,” Collins said bitterly. “Years ago, when you weren’t old enough to say more than three words. So don’t come here and talk to me of allegiance and duty, boy. You think because you wear that badge of royalty it means you have free reign over my estate? You’re wrong. The moment you walked through those gates your destiny became mine.”
301 was taken aback; he hadn’t expected the noble to become hostile quite so quickly. Intimidation indicated fear, and fear told 301 that Collins had something to hide. He decided to escalate the conversation, “Where is your family, Sir Collins?”
Collins’ eye twitched, and he spoke his next words with a strained calm, “Gone. But I assume you know that already.”
“Actually, I didn’t,” 301 said honestly. “Did you send them away?”
“Why are you here, Specter Captain?” Collins demanded. “If you have something to say to me, say it.”
Very well.
“Sir Collins, we know that you participated in an off-the-books meeting with other members of the nobility. Unchecked gatherings of the rich and powerful are forbidden by Systemic Law, as I’m sure you know. Since this meeting took place in violation of the law, we can only conclude that its purpose was contrary to the continued peace of the World System. Are you a member of the rebel supply network?”
“Yes, I am.”
301 opened his mouth to speak his next question, but stopped when it dawned on him what Collins had just said, “Did you understand the question, Sir Collins?”
“Perfectly,” he nodded. “I am member of the rebel supply network. For the past seven months, I have orchestrated secret operations to supply the Silent Thunder Rebellion with weapons, nourishment, counterfeit designation papers, and even the plans to several buildings key to the infrastructure of Division One.”
“Which began at the meeting you had with the other nobles, this Zero Event,” 301 said. “We’ll need the names of your co-conspirators, as well as the locations of your drop zones to the rebels. If you cooperate with us, I may be able to nego—”
“I’m not interested in negotiation,” Collins cut across him. “Tell me, Specter Captain: did they tell you what happened to her?”
“I’m sorry?”
“My wife,” he said. “Did they tell you about her?”
301 thought that was hardly relevant at the moment, seeing as he had just confessed to high treason and admitted to knowing the names of many if not all of the rebellion’s suppliers. A few more steps in the right direction and they might have the means to shut Silent Thunder down forever. The last thing on his mind was the noble’s wife.
“No, sir Collins, but I hardly think—”
“Soldiers came in the middle of the night,” his eyes were vacant, seeing only the memory. “They bore a mandate from the MWR saying that there was an item of urgent business between him and me, so my guards allowed them to pass. But once they were inside they stormed into our bedroom, dragged her out of bed, and shot her right in front of me. No explanation, not even an accusation to which we could respond. They restrained me and said that if I didn’t allow them to leave the estate alive my children would be next. In cases like mine, they said, the order usually includes the termination of all heirs as well. But the MWR chose to be merciful. So to protect my children, I let the men who had just murder
ed my wife and left her body lying beside the bed escape from this mansion without difficulty.”
“So…what then?” 301 asked. “You did this out of revenge? To get back at the World System for executing your wife?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I helped the rebellion because it was the right thing to do…because it was the work she started, and I wanted to finish it.”
301 could hardly believe what he was hearing. From what he knew of the rebels and their suppliers, they would never knowingly give one another up. His eyes narrowed in the noble’s direction, “Help me understand this, Sir Collins. Why are you confessing so easily?”
Collins smiled, “Because knowledge of my actions will not leave this room.”
Purely by instinct, tension spread through the muscles in 301’s body as he prepared for an attack. His hand came to rest on the Gladius prototype at his side, ready to draw and kill at the slightest evidence of danger.
The noble’s eyes glanced briefly at the prototype weapon, but his smile did not fade. He made a point to show his hands were empty, “You misunderstand me, Specter Captain. I don’t need to take your life to silence you. I already have everything I need to convince you.”
301 stifled a laugh, “Nothing but death will convince me to hide your treason, Sir Collins, so if that’s where this must end let’s get on with it.”
“Well, I am going to use the threat of death to gain your silence,” Collins went on. “It just won’t be yours. You see, Specter Captain, helping the rebellion may not have been motivated by a need for revenge, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t another plan in place to avenge my wife. How interesting that you, of all people, ended up in the middle of it. One might almost call it fate.”
“What are you talking about?”
“How long has it been since Jacob Sawyer ambushed your team, Shadow Soldier? Six weeks? Seven?”
301’s hand tightened around the prototype and he hissed, “How do you know about that?”
“Privileged men often have access to privileged information,” Collins replied. “But that’s not the real issue here. My question, Shadow Soldier, is this: why would Jacob Sawyer announce the rebellion’s return and then not attack a single System facility for six weeks?”
The question gave 301 pause. Many had wondered that very same thing over the past several weeks. Some had gone as far as to ask him if he really saw what he said he did that night.
“I’m assuming you know the answer to that question,” 301 said dryly.
“Jacob Sawyer hasn’t planned another attack,” Collins leaned forward over the desk as though he was about to reveal some valuable secret, “Because he is in mourning…for his daughter.”
The noble said nothing more, and 301 felt the moment was a bit anticlimactic. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the noble with mounting frustration, “And how is this relevant to your confession, or convincing me to keep it quiet?”
“It’s relevant, Specter Captain, because Jacob Sawyer’s daughter isn’t dead,” Collins opened his top drawer and pulled a sheet of paper from within. 301 kept his focus on Collins, but deduced from his peripheral vision that the item was a photograph. The noble turned it around so 301 could see, “Until this moment I believed you had already discovered this plot of mine and that she was the reason you were here. Recognize her?”
Careful not to let Collins use this as a plot to distract him, 301 lowered his gaze to the photograph, and at last he understood.
It was Grace.
23
ALL THOUGHTS OF THE NOBLE’S TREASON faded away in an instant, replaced by a fear that this revelation might shatter the only part of his world where he found comfort, joy, and acceptance. 301’s mind automatically went to the darkest places: was she a spy? Was everything that had happened between them nothing but some elaborate game—a ploy to give her access to the palace? But then he had known she was a rebel from the outset, hadn’t he? Did knowing she was actually one of the most notorious rebels of all change how he felt about her?
Sir Collins sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, observing the confusion he had heaped upon the Specter Captain with satisfaction. “We run a thorough screening process on every slave who comes through our facility,” he explained. “Obtaining a Systemic Designation requires an imprint of the subject’s DNA, which is then cross-referenced in the central computers against all existing records. Obviously, Jacob Sawyer doesn’t have a designation. However, his DNA imprint was taken from Old World records and included in the list of dangerous persons. So, we insert the imprint of a beautiful young Undocumented girl into the computer and—what do you know—the central computer names her as Sawyer’s daughter.
“By this point I had already been told of the Grand Admiral’s intent to procure a new slave for the MWR, and I thought—what better way to avenge the death of my wife than to place a rebel right on Alexander’s doorstep? So I paid the technician who matched the imprints to keep quiet, and made sure that Miss Sawyer’s Spectral Gladius was included in her possessions. Best-case scenario, she gets her opportunity to kill Alexander and takes it. Worst case, she is discovered and executed—no worse a fate than if I allowed her to be revealed by the DNA match in the first place.
“But I never guessed that the MWR planned to give this slave as a gift to his new champion…you. When I heard she was given to you I felt certain I would hear of her death within a couple of days. But here we are, despite the fact that you must have found her Gladius and deduced who she really is. That’s when I realized she must have gotten to you. Tell me, Specter Captain: do you love this woman? Would you do anything to protect her?”
301 felt something clench in his gut. His heart pounded with the weight of what Collins laid upon him: he could either do his duty, and in so doing sacrifice Grace on the altar of his own success—or he could lie and conceal the entire affair, allowing her to live. Without a doubt, he knew what he would have done two months ago. But he realized then, more clearly than ever, that he was no longer that man. Did he love Grace? He wasn’t even sure he knew the meaning of the word. But would he do anything to protect her? That answer was much easier to give.
He had to act quickly. The Great Army was coming, and they would force Collins to give up the truth about his dealings with Alexandrian Authorizations and expose Grace as a Silent Thunder operative. He couldn’t allow that to happen. But how could he get Collins out of here alive?
“What assurances do I have that you’ll keep your word?” 301 asked.
“My children have already reached the only location where they can be safe,” Collins replied. “I just need one week to get my affairs in order, and then I will join them. After that, you can reveal whatever you like about me…it won’t matter. I will be beyond the World System’s reach.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said,” Collins smiled. “I will be somewhere that the System does not rule.”
“There is no such place,” 301 insisted.
Collins sighed, “Don’t they tell you any classified information when you get that royalty badge? Or have you just not taken it upon yourself to study the actual circumstances that brought the World System into power? I must admit I’m disappointed…the Right Hand spoke so highly of you.”
“The Right—what?” 301’s voice rose as his patience wore thin. “What are you talking about?”
“The Right Hand,” Collins repeated. “If you’re looking for the man pulling all the strings, he’s your guy. He was the one who called this meeting you speak of…the Zero Event.”
“Who is he?”
“Now even I don’t know that,” the noble smiled. “And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you. So then, Shadow Soldier, do we have a deal?”
“How long until Grace is discovered?” 301 asked. “Somehow I doubt you’re going to keep paying that technician once you get…wherever it is you’re going.”
“You have until the
end of the week,” Collins said. “However, if you take your people and leave this estate right now, I will contact you with the name of the technician just prior to my departure. Then you will be free to pay him yourself—I assure you his fee is more than affordable for a Specter Captain.”
“So you would condemn her to a life of slavery to ensure your own survival,” 301 said bitterly. “Not exactly a hero, are you, Sir Collins?”
“I never claimed to be,” he said. “I’m just another man trying to survive in this world the best way he can. And let’s be honest, Captain: the only avenues left to Miss Sawyer are slavery and death. The only question is which fate you will choose for her.”
301 hesitated. He hated the circumstances that placed him there, forcing him to either betray everything he had ever believed in or to save a woman he knew deep down could not be allowed to die. He would never forgive himself for that. He opened his mouth to tell Collins the truth.
But that’s when he heard it. A distant sound, subtle at first but steadily growing: the sound of at least one approaching Halo-4, probably more. And with that sound his hope of getting Collins away from the estate evaporated.
The noble’s eyes widened as he, too, recognized the sound. He rose from behind his desk and spat in anger, “You betrayed our agreement! This entire time, you’ve just been stalling for reinforcements? Guard!”
Detecting swift movement behind him, 301 drew his sidearm and pivoted back toward the doorway. He pulled the trigger and sent three shots into the torso of the estate’s caretaker, who had been coming at him with an assault rifle. The weapon clattered to the ground just before the man fell dead.
