I didn’t know how this was going to go down. This was far scarier than some more dangerous missions I’d been on, but as I stood at the end of the table, I allowed myself a brief moment of hope. With a group of people like this, looking at me with those naked emotions, I could accomplish something. In fact, they looked like they were actually ready to hear me.
I let out a breath and started to talk.
“Look, I understand this is all coming as a shock to you. I’m certain, like Amber and Owen, you were all recruited personally by Desmond. She’s been a source of hope, and empowerment, to you all. I’m guessing you don’t know what to make of this, or what you can even do about it. But here’s the thing… Just because Desmond has been lying to you, it doesn’t change the fact that there are some pretty major fundamental flaws in our nations. Both of them. Our governments have either been indifferent, or robbed us all of something precious. They have used their agents to filter out any of you who would protest, and then used you to work to their own goals.”
Several people nodded as I spoke, and I heard the murmured conversations growing more animated.
“You can’t change what has happened to you,” I went on, “but you can choose how to handle it now. We”—I used my hand to indicate Owen, Amber, and myself—“have chosen to fight. Not for ourselves, and not for our survival, but rather for the people who are caught in the middle. People like your families, your sons, your brothers.
“But I have to tell you, the odds are against us. They have been from the start. Elena and Desmond have spent years putting this in motion, consolidating resources and personnel. But you and the rest of the Liberators have things we need. You have people who have been training to fight for years, but most of all, the spirit to make a difference. We need that—our soldiers are refugees who have barely held a gun, let alone thought of using one, before now. But they share the same feelings you have. They’re also fed up with our governments. They also have taken it upon themselves to make a change in the world around them. You and they have a lot in common. There’s a lot you could teach them, if you wanted.”
Silence reigned for several heartbeats, and I looked around the table at each person here, trying to gain some evidence, some inkling of proof that I was getting through to them.
A woman with a short brown pixie cut leaned forward, resting her hands on the table, her green eyes studying me. “That’s a very pretty speech, Mr. Croft, but frankly, why should we even bother to get involved? It seems more like a death wish than anything else.”
“Erin!” Meera gasped, her brows drawing together. “How can you say that? Your son is out there.”
Erin speared Meera with a reproachful look, shaking her head. “I will never give up on my son,” she said. “Malcolm is my world. But if you think for one minute that means I’ll blindly agree to consign the rest of our people to a war against Desmond, you are mistaken.”
“Erin has a point,” announced Lynne, one of the few Liberators I knew by name, from across the table. I glanced at her, and she gave me an apologetic shrug. I guessed her flirting days were done, though I didn’t consider that a loss when she’d never stood a chance against Violet. I wondered if she’d gotten in trouble for the stunt we’d pulled borrowing the harness to spy on Desmond in the Facility, but pushed the thought aside.
“We would be going up against trained wardens, controlled by Desmond,” Lynne continued. “She knows where our base is, and she’ll notice if something is up.”
“Exactly. Our position here, in The Green, was given to us by her. We would have to move everything to enter a battlefield that, frankly, we have little reason to be involved with in the first place.” Erin shook her head, her lips a thin, flat line. “No, I’m sorry, but we need a better reason than that.”
“So you’re saying you’d rather stick with Desmond?” I asked, my heart sinking.
The look Erin gave me was shrewd. “Not even remotely. But going to war isn’t a solution to our problem. Finding our boys is.”
“We’d have a better chance finding them with Mr. Croft,” said a woman I didn’t recognize. Her hair was blond and braided around the top of her head in a long, thick rope. “My brother was taken twelve years ago, and, from what I’ve been able to piece together, Mr. Croft and his team have done more to try and help our boys in the past three months than I have been able to do for all that time. I remember his training program for the boys… back in the Facility… I finally thought we were going to get them back…” Her voice trailed off in emotion, and the woman next to her patted her on the shoulder, while around the room I could hear noises of acknowledgement. And anger.
Thomas had been right—these people had recently lost their boys again. Finally, the blond woman continued, “That was the first time I saw some progress with our boys. And I think that, while our goals aren’t exactly identical to Mr. Croft’s, they do run along similar lines. Mr. Croft’s fight extends to all citizens, while we are only invested in our families. Perhaps we need to re-examine that.”
Erin gave the other woman a considering look and then sighed, shaking her head.
I couldn’t help but jump in at that point, circling back to what she’d first said. “So the Matrians… they really have control of the boys again?” I didn’t bother to hide the frustration that coursed through me at the thought. It sounded like a nightmare. I knew everyone in the room was on the same page about that.
Grimacing, Erin looked at Lynne, who met my gaze and sighed, the expression on her face mirroring what I guessed my own must be. “Shortly after Desmond threw you and everyone out of the airlock, we had to exercise an emergency evacuation.” She spat the words out distastefully. “Desmond radioed to tell us she’d just found out the Matrian wardens were closing in. There was no time to free all the boys, so… she ordered us to leave them behind, promising that if we had found them once, we would find them again.”
“I argued against it,” retorted Meera, folding her arms across her chest. “I wanted to stay and fight for them. We all did, but Desmond… she was just as reasonable and practical as ever, telling us we needed to maintain our Liberator anonymity. She told us we would get caught if we tried to move the boys and care for them in the evacuation—that even their absence would be noted.” She met my gaze and shook her head. “It all makes so much sense now. We played right into her hands, didn’t we?” Her voice was bitter, seething.
I wasn’t going repeat a fact she already knew and hated. “Do you think they are still at the Facility?” I asked instead.
“Perhaps,” responded Lynne, leaning back in her chair. “But to be honest, it’s unlikely. If she had time to clear them out, she would’ve… And destroyed the facility for good measure, no doubt. Just in case any of us were tempted to go back in a desperate attempt to see our boys.”
“That’s Desmond for you,” Amber chimed in, dropping into an unoccupied chair. “When she carries out a plan, she follows it through.” She paused and squared her shoulders. “Look, when Violet and Viggo first told me about what was happening, I was honestly like ‘so what?’ To me, as a Patrian-born female, the only thing I could think of was that this war hadn’t come soon enough. Most of you know my story… You know what my father did. I had every reason to hate him and any other Patrian male. But, after everything, after working with Viggo and Violet, I realized not everyone is like that. They genuinely care, and what’s more, they taught me working together makes us stronger than being apart. I urge you to consider this proposal. They care about the boys too, and it’s one of our highest priorities to get them free.”
“Those goals are intertwined,” Owen added, taking a step toward the conference table. “Getting them free will help us stop this war—and on the other hand, stopping this war will help us keep the boys from being used as human weapons. It helps, either way. So working with us might be the best way forward. We can help each other in more ways as well. Once we push the Matrians out of Patrus, we can focus our goals exclusively on D
esmond, and by extension, Elena. She’s the real monster here—she’s the one who wants to use the boys, boys like my brother, like soldiers in her army. We are going to need all the help we can get in taking them down.”
“You know, we are in a unique position to cause some harm,” said Meera thoughtfully, giving Erin a cautious look. “We could spy on Desmond for them. Use the information we receive from her to help them coordinate plans of attack. Anyone who doesn’t want to go out and actively join the war effort could still—” She paused, letting the venom of her words sink in. “—get some payback… Start up some lies of our own.”
Erin squinted at Meera, considering her, and then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “That might be something,” she said after a beat. “It would certainly make me feel better, after she took our boys away from us, right out from under our noses.” She turned to me and arched an eyebrow. “What exactly do you want from us? What would you need, were we to consider doing this?”
“Dr. Tierney,” I replied automatically. “For Quinn, Henrik, and Violet… and anybody else who gets hurt out in the field, which seems more and more likely. She can also help us take care of Solomon,” I said, directing the point at Meera. “Medical equipment, and a few operatives to help with training and general operations until we can get our own people trained up. Also, any information you can get on Desmond would be incredibly helpful.”
“Well, to be honest, Desmond has been less than forthcoming with us recently,” said Lynne. “But there are a few people she’s set to tap at any time. If we can get them on board, we might be able to figure out what she’s up to. But their safety comes first. If she wants them to plant a bomb somewhere, we have to let them plant the bomb. She can’t have any hint that we are working against her. None.”
I nodded. “I understand. But… is that a yes?”
The others at the table looked around at each other for a moment, and then Meera nodded. “You have our support, Mr. Croft. But let’s be clear. We’re getting something out of this deal, too. We want any and all information on the boys, as you encounter it. That is non-negotiable. They become top priority when you find them. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said solemnly, nodding my head.
“Then we have a deal.”
11
Viggo
The darkness that had served as our cloak was beginning to fade into early-morning shadow as Amber lowered the heloship into the clearing. I stared at the lightening sky, having spent the flight home in a kind of triumphant, half-awake daze. Beside me, Dr. Elizabeth Tierney clutched the harness securing her to her chair, her brow furrowed, sweat shimmering on her temples. I could understand somebody being nervous about flying, but it seemed Dr. Tierney was beyond nervous—she was practically allergic to it. We’d barely gotten off the ground when she had begun shaking her head, cinching down the safety harness nobody else had ever used.
As soon as we touched down in the clearing some way off from our base, I was moving. The faster I went, the longer I could avoid my exhaustion. I helped Dr. Tierney to her feet and led her to the cargo bay. She gave me a grateful look as I guided her, some of the color coming back into her cheeks and face. The six women and two men who had accompanied us back were getting to their feet and stretching as we entered. Immediately, as though she hadn’t been shivering and taking deep, calming breaths in the heloship half an hour ago, Dr. Tierney was on.
“Adam, come over here and grab this box,” she instructed. “I don’t want any of this equipment broken, all right? And Lynne, can you please make sure you get all the bags in this round? I do not want to have to set foot on this infernal contraption ever again, if I can avoid it.”
I suppressed a smile as she continued to bark orders to the Liberators, unflappable even in the face of her own nerves. My eyes focused on Lynne for a moment—the leggy brunette with moss-green eyes. She moved with an efficacy that made it seem like that moment was dead and gone, to my relief. My gaze returned to where Dr. Tierney was standing just in front of me, partially blocking my path to the bay doors. I moved to step around her, but she whirled around and placed a hand on my chest. I could feel her eyes examining me closely, taking me in as if she hadn’t really seen me before, and sensed displeasure radiating from her.
“Mr. Croft, has anyone told you that you look like death warmed over?” she asked, her tone telling me she was informing me more than asking. I blinked, trying to decide whether I should be offended or not. She smiled, as if sensing my discomfort. “I only say this because, as one of my former patients, I feel a certain responsibility for you—if only to make sure my work is not tampered with.”
I narrowed my eyes at her and frowned. “It’s been a long couple of days,” I said, unsure what she was getting at, and exhausted enough that I didn’t even want to have to deal with a nonessential conversation right now. “And there’s still too much to do. What would you suggest?”
She raised an eyebrow and gave me a hard look. “Your bed, Mr. Croft. I suggest you find it before you keel over. Or before I slip a sleeping pill into your next beverage.”
A startled chuckle dropped from my mouth. I couldn’t help it. The woman barely came up to my chin, and looked about as dangerous as a newborn pup, but here she was trying to put me to bed like an unruly child. I appreciated her concern, though. Truthfully, climbing into bed with Violet was all I had been thinking about in every free moment since before we’d left tonight—or, rather, last night. As soon I saw that the doctor was examining Violet and got Ms. Dale up to speed, it was going to be lights out for me.
“I’ll do that, Doc,” I said earnestly to Dr. Tierney, and she gave me an approving nod before turning back to continue barking orders at her group. Stepping around her, I moved toward the rear of the cargo bay, where Owen was lowering the ramp. He looked almost as tired as I felt, and that was saying something.
“We did good,” he said, and I held back a laugh. He was tired if all he could come up with was that generic platitude. Still, I couldn’t fault him—I didn’t feel like I was capable of much in the way of conversation either.
To be honest, I couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Yup. I’m glad Amber talked us into going.”
He grunted in response. The ramp lowered and I was immediately greeted with the visage of Ms. Dale, standing at the bottom with her arms crossed and an irritated expression on her face. I gave Owen a knowing look before heading down the ramp. I was certain he did not envy me the task of finding out what was wrong this time.
“Hey,” I said, unable to muster more enthusiasm. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” she replied archly, an edge in her voice. “Mr. Croft, maybe you could explain to me why your latest transmission was only ‘coming home’? Frankly, it was a bit alarming in its vagueness.”
I stifled a smile. “I’m sorry,” I offered.
Her gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Why do I detect a ‘but’?”
Rolling my eyes, I scrubbed my face with my hand, grimacing at the rough feel of stubble turned beard. “But, we couldn’t risk the message being intercepted. I didn’t want to reveal too much, just in case Desmond has scrounged up another computer whiz like Thomas to hack into our communication channels. Besides, allying with the Liberators gives us a unique advantage.”
She gave me a considering look, and then nodded. “I’d figured as much,” she said, her irritation dissolving. “Still, ambiguous messages are a risky business. I had no idea what had happened to you—for all I knew, you’d been taken and were leading them back here.”
I looked over her head at two cars that had struggled through the underbrush to meet us at the heloship’s location, both of which had armed refugees inside, and then back to her. That explained the welcome party; she must have been preparing for a fight. Ms. Dale shrugged in noncommittal fashion at my look, but her gaze soon turned speculative again. “So, why all the need for secrecy?” she asked.
I grinned at her, allowing pr
ide to get the better of me for a moment. What we had been able to accomplish with the Liberators had been well above our expectations. I was still reeling from how quickly everything had shifted. Hours ago, I had been frustrated by so much, angered and worried for Violet, and exhausted. Now, I was still most of those things, but had managed to paint a much-needed silver lining onto those dark, overwhelming storm clouds.
Opening my mouth, I began to explain all the details of the plot—only to stop as Ms. Dale’s eyes went wide in surprise. “You got them to agree to spy on Desmond, didn’t you?” she exclaimed.
“Yes,” I said with a smile. “It’s why I kept the message short. I was going to tell you—but you just had to ruin the surprise.”
She laughed and patted me on the shoulder. “Sorry, Viggo. I just started thinking about it, and it was the only thing that made sense.”
“Well, don’t get too excited.” I grimaced, shifting my weight from one foot to another, explaining what the women had told me during our meeting. Desmond had been away on mysterious missions, as she often had been in the past, but she’d checked in often enough, dropping hints and plans, that it seemed pretty normal. And they’d been so worked up over their haphazard, last-minute transition from the Facility in The Green back to their base that they hadn’t been paying too much attention to her comings and goings. She had always been a very independent leader.
“Well, that isn’t surprising,” Ms. Dale said thoughtfully. “She’s got too many pokers in the fire at this point. The Liberators are isolated enough that it makes sense she would put them on the back burner.”
The Gender Game 5: The Gender Fall Page 8
