by J. L. Lyon
Collins had said that in the event of the security officer’s death he would have about twenty-four hours before his caseload was passed to another officer and Grace’s identity was discovered. But considering the circumstances of his death they were likely to be taking a closer look at Emerson’s dealings, meaning that Grace probably had only half that time.
In the span of only a few seconds, 301’s mind ran through every possible avenue of saving Grace’s life, and each time came up short. Even if he could get her out of the palace, they had to get past the defense centers. And then, where would he hide her? Napoleon Alexander had a record of using family members to get what he wanted from his enemies. 301 had no doubt he would hunt Grace to the ends of the earth if it meant gaining leverage over her father.
One option remained: somehow he would have to return her to Jacob Sawyer. He would need to create a solid alibi for himself or the MWR would know he freed her, which meant there was no way he could hope to succeed alone.
In that moment he made a choice—one that could destroy all he had gained during the past eleven years since taking the OPE. He was going to free Grace Sawyer.
And to do so, he was going to place his destiny in the hands of his old friend, Elizabeth Aurora.
He punched the gas on the Jeep and turned a one-eighty on the road, accelerating at top speed back toward the palace.
“301, what are you doing?”
“We’re going back to the palace after all,” 301 replied. And then, after preparing himself for the possible fallout, he told her everything.
25
AS SHE DID MOST DAYS when 301 was away, Grace waited patiently in the outer room of his palace suite and passed the time in relative boredom. With nothing to do but anticipate his return, she spent most of the hours thinking about how she might reach 301 with the truth about the government he had devoted his life to. So far she had tried to approach the subject with subtlety, not wishing to do anything that would make him raise a guard of distrust against her.
But try as she might to keep her mind on the right words to say, her thoughts continually returned to other things—like the way he stared at her when she spoke, enraptured either in her eyes or her words or both, she could never tell; or the way her heart seemed to leap every time his skin grazed hers; or the way he smiled, and she would see for an instant a flash in his eyes that revealed the man he could become—the man he was truly meant to be.
Even in the short weeks they had been together, a transformative power had been at work in him. His responses grew more compassionate as he gained a new understanding of his enemies through her eyes. He became more intimately acquainted with her childhood and teenage years than anyone she had ever known, even her father. He respected her as a skilled teacher of the Gladius, and took in every instruction she gave without judgment or arrogance. Despite their multitude of differences, friendship blossomed between them effortlessly as though it was always meant to be. But from that friendship, the threat of something more continually assaulted her.
She didn’t know when it first happened. All she knew was that somewhere along the way she began willing herself not to fall in love with him. For the previous two weeks especially she had fought hard against this thought, telling herself instead that her mind was desperately attempting to find something comfortable after the unplanned turn her life had taken. After all, she couldn’t imagine a more star-crossed romance. A rebel and a soldier of the World System? It was a formula for disaster. Recently she had even gone as far as to diagnose herself with Stockholm Syndrome due to her prolonged captivity, isolation, and 301 “rescuing” her from the worst of what she thought life as a slave would be like.
But the harder she tried to explain the feelings away, the more powerful they became. There was something deeper beneath the surface of 301’s cool exterior…something innocent and familiar that she couldn’t quite place. It was to that part of him that her heart was inexplicably drawn. But did she love him? She wasn’t quite sure. Her chaotic life hadn’t left much room for romantic relationships, and so she felt out of her element. At what point do two people stop falling in love and actually let their hearts be claimed?
In any case, Grace had never felt more clarity of purpose in her life. Despite her lifelong fear of slavery, she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She looked down at her arm where the symbol of her slavery shone, etched onto her skin to be displayed forever.
301-14-A.
She traced the designation with her finger, noting with relief how well it had healed. Nothing remained but the black ink of the tattoo. For quite a while she had wondered what the final form of the mark might be—whether it would become an unattractive scar, more like a brand; or if the red and dead skin would eventually fall away to leave only the designation behind, as it had. Now her arm still felt like her arm…it just looked slightly different.
During those first days after she removed the bandage she thought the mark was a thing of shame. But now, as she considered what it meant to her, she wasn’t so sure. There was something special about it—and certainly, there was something special about the man whose designation she wore.
The sound of the door opening startled Grace from her thoughts, and she rose quickly to her feet. A small wave of anxiety passed through her: 301 rarely returned before midnight, never before dark. Her first thought was that he had been killed, and she noted how the mere suggestion threatened to shatter her heart.
So it was with relief that she saw 301 enter the room, though it proved short-lived. Instead of his usual caring smile, he wore a severe and pained expression. He walked into the suite more like a soldier on a mission than a man returning home.
“301?” she asked cautiously. “What’s going on?”
He passed her without a look or a word, and disappeared into his private room. She stared at the closed door and felt a sudden urge to cry, though she managed to refrain. Well-versed in using her mind to overpower her heart, she pushed the feelings of rejection away, along with all the fear and doubt heaped upon her by this one, single action. Who was she kidding anyway? What was this man to her?
But the emotion recoiled back upon her even more quickly than she pushed it away, and she heard her heart’s answer as clearly as though she had spoken the words aloud:
He means more to me than anyone else in this world.
-X-
301 rummaged through several drawers of his clothing, the entire trip from the Collins estate to his suite little more than a blur. So many different thoughts and emotions fought for dominance in his brain. His body lagged at least three steps behind his mind, operating on autopilot as he tried to find what he needed to get the plan rolling.
Miraculously, Liz had agreed to help him. She had said yes immediately, which on a normal day would rouse considerable suspicion…but today he didn’t have time to question the motives of his only accomplice. That could be left until later, assuming there would be a later.
In his frustration 301 began throwing things out of the drawers. How was it that he had so much stuff? Major General Wilde had sent everything 301 owned to the palace at the Ruling Council’s request, but he had never possessed more than three or four sets of clothing. These must have been more gifts from the MWR—some that were obviously not intended for him, but for Grace.
Then at last he found what he was looking for: his first Great Army uniform. Issued when he was just fifteen, he hoped against all hope it would work. As he held them up he saw that it would still be a little too big, but it would have to do.
In another drawer he located a ceremonial cap that he could only remember wearing twice: once when he received the uniform, and the other when he got his official placement in the Great Army. He started to grab his old boots, and then saw something better in the mess on the floor. Apparently the MWR thought Grace needed some fine leather boots. Not exactly standard army issue, but they might pass at a cursory glance. He gathered up all the items
and went back out to the main room.
Grace stood there waiting for him, somewhere between crying and lashing out angrily at him. His first inclination was to console her, but he didn’t have time for that either. He dumped the clothes into her arms and spoke authoritatively, “Put those on. As much as possible, make them look as though they were tailored for you. Conceal your hair with the cap, and if there’s anything you can do to make yourself look more like a man, do it now.”
She gazed at the clothes and then shook her head in confusion, “Why? I don’t under—”
“There are very few women in the Great Army,” he replied. “So when people see one, they remember. We don’t want anyone to remember seeing you tonight.”
“What do you mean ‘see me’?” he could hear the worry creeping into her voice. “Where are you taking me?”
“Grace,” he said calmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked deep into her eyes, drinking her in and drawing what comfort he could from the way she made him feel—for this could be the last time he would ever see her. He cleared his throat, choking back the pain rising up in his chest. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do,” she said the words without reservation.
“Then please, do as I say. I promise I’ll explain everything on the way, but we need to be at the Defense Ring by sunset, which gives us about thirty minutes. I need you to hurry.”
“Alright,” her words were sad, and her tone told 301 she had already guessed what was happening. The possibility that he was the reason for her sadness, that in truth she didn’t want to leave, made it that much harder for him. He certainly didn’t want her to go—but he didn’t want her to die, either.
She disappeared into the bathroom to change, leaving 301 with nothing to do but think. He walked to the nearest window and stared out into the fading light. The Defense Ring—their second major challenge of the night, was just visible some distance away. Within his field of vision 301 could see six Defense Centers—the manned command posts that made the Ring so dangerous. If they could pass the first test—exiting the palace without Grace being marked—the second would prove even more difficult. That was where Liz came in. He didn’t quite know what she had in mind, but she had agreed to provide a distraction.
He shook his head in frustration, reflecting on how much of a difference even a few hours could make. This morning he left thinking everything would be okay, that he and Grace had unlimited time together. Now here he was, risking everything he had ever known to get her out of there before Napoleon Alexander’s executioner could get her first. He gritted his teeth in anger at the thought of losing her. Perhaps it was fate that led him to Collins. Maybe he was meant to save her, to atone for all the blood he had spilled.
“You’re a bad man.”
301 turned his head and saw the little boy, Eli, standing next to him with his gaze on the horizon. Though surprised to see him again after an absence of several weeks, 301 did not react. The last thing he needed was to end up incapacitated on the floor watching memories of the dead.
After a few seconds 301 said despondently, “I know.”
“If you know, then why do you keep being bad?” he asked. “Just stop.”
“It’s not that simple, Eli. I have a job to do, and I’m good at it. There isn’t anything else in this world for men like me.”
“That’s not true,” the boy said. “You could leave. Run away.”
“To where?” 301 asked angrily. “The MWR would hunt me to the end of the world, and no one outside the World System will have me, not after all I’ve done.”
“Grace will,” he said brightly. “Grace will have you. She’s your friend.”
“She was my friend because she had to be,” 301 realized that he spoke the deepest fear of his heart. “The only reason she cared for me was because I owned her…I controlled whether she lived or died. Now she’ll disappear into the Wilderness without a second thought…and I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to be with me either.”
“Cause you’re a bad man?”
“Yes, Eli,” 301 sighed, succumbing to his fate. “Because I am, and always will be, my own worst enemy.”
“That’s not true either,” he said. “You can change, I’ve seen it. When you’re with Grace, you’re different—nicer. I like you more with her.”
301 looked down at the ground and felt a lump in his throat, “Yeah. I like me more with her, too.” He rubbed his nose and fought down the burning sensation in his eyes. “But that is not my fate.”
The bathroom door came open and Grace stepped out. “301? Who were you talking to?”
He didn’t even have to look to know that Eli was gone, “No one. Let’s get a look at you.” He walked over to examine her disguise. Though he could tell she had tried as hard as possible to make the uniform fit, it was still noticeably too big. But on the bright side it managed to swallow her girlish figure, and with the cap pulled low over her face she almost looked the part—at first glance, anyway. He just hoped nobody looked twice.
“Not perfect,” he said after a moment of scrutiny. “But it’ll have to do.”
“So are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“You should have told me, Grace,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “You should have told me who you are.”
“But I did tell you,” her look was incredulous. “I told you all about my life. My childhood, my beliefs, my involvement with the rebellion, everything. What more is there to tell?”
“That your father is Jacob Sawyer.”
Her eyes went wide in astonishment, and he could see the fear begin to take hold of her, “How do you know that?”
“Your DNA imprint—the one they used to insert you into the System’s central computer—matched an old record of your father’s,” he explained. “The slave trader who sold you knew about the match, but paid the technician who found it to keep it quiet. He thought you were being sold for the use of the MWR, not being given to someone like me.”
“So that’s why they left my Spectral Gladius,” she whispered. “He wanted me to kill him? But why?”
“He was a member of the benefactor network,” 301 said. “We took him down less than an hour ago, and the technician is also dead. That means you have less than a day before someone else discovers your true identity, and then the MWR will come for you. He’ll use you to get to your father.”
Grace shook her head in disbelief, “But that doesn’t make any sense. The benefactor network would never approve such an action.”
“Collins could have acted of his own accord,” 301 offered. “Or maybe their motives are not quite as pure as you think they are. You said yourself that you know very little about them. Who’s to say they aren’t using the whole of Silent Thunder just as Collins tried to use you?”
Grace frowned, wanting to object but finding no ground on which to do so. Finally she looked down at herself and asked quietly, “So what does any of that have to do with dressing up like a soldier?”
301 gave a grim smile, surprised she even needed to ask. Then again, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just wanted to hear him say it. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“But I thought you said escape from the palace was impossible, Specter Captain.” There was a trace of playful sarcasm in her words, but also a bit of reluctance. Whether it was because of the danger of an escape attempt she didn’t want to face or the possibility of losing him, 301 dared not guess.
“Impossible to get in, yes,” he replied. “But to get out? We’ll know soon enough.”
“So you would sacrifice everything on the merest chance that you can save me,” she shook her head. “I can’t allow you to do that.”
“If you stay you’ll be dead by morning. This is your only chance to live.”
“It’s not my life I’m worried about,” her voice broke and she stared at him with a deep, genuine concern.
He smiled broadly to reassure her, “I’m n
ot planning to get caught, Grace. This is the kind of thing I do, and I am very good at it. The World System’s greatest weakness is overconfidence, and I plan to exploit it.”
“But if it fails…”
“You can’t stay,” he said, voice firm and resolute. “This is not a discussion. It will be much easier if you walk out of here with me, but if I have to knock you out and carry you on my back to safety I can do that, too. It’s your call, but we need to go now.”
She sighed, “Alright, 301. Thank you. For everything, really…”
He held up a hand to stop her, “You can thank me once we’re out of here.” He walked over to the shelf where they kept the chest that once held her possessions and returned with her Spectral Gladius, Novus Vita. He handed it to her, “I believe this is yours.”
Grace took the Gladius and hid it inside the pocket of the oversized uniform, “You expecting a fight?”
“Only a measure of last resort,” he replied. “Plus, who knows how difficult it would be for you to get another one?”
“True,” she smiled wide and the fire returned to her eyes, “But I’d like to see you try to knock me out now. I taught you everything you know, but not everything I know.”
He laughed despite the situation, glad for even a single lighthearted moment. But the moment fled swiftly, replaced by the reality that they would soon be forced to part ways. The pleasant pain 301 had become so familiar with when it came to Grace was no longer so pleasant. Somehow he knew that if they survived this night, he would always look back on it with longing—and nothing he might say to Grace in that moment would change that.
So he chose the course he was best at—action.
“Okay then,” he took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
