Conquest

by T. C. Edge

  I leave, disappointed as ever, though hardly surprised. It has become the norm, now, to leave without answers. With nothing to bring to my grandmother and the council meetings. Nothing that might otherwise make them listen to me.

  Because, whatever anyone says, I know they're coming.

  I just know it...deep in my bones.

  I turn, and move off, heading towards Inner Haven where the council meetings take place.

  6

  Brie

  The council meetings are held weekly, a gathering of all of the senior members of the city and government. Held within the newly outfitted presidential headquarters, where my grandmother runs her government from, we assemble together in a large boardroom, fitted with all the modern conveniences and technologies at our disposal, allowing us to share information in the most effective way.

  With screens all over the walls - well, the walls pretty much are all interactive screens - we can quickly display information regarding the health of the city. For the most part, this involves statistics that don't interest me, charts and numbers and data that, frankly, lose all meaning after a while. It's like that most of the time, with our Secretary for Economics, a particularly stuffy and dull man called Aaron Smith, taking up much of the airtime.

  He's a Savant, which isn't overly surprising, a man with a vast mind for numbers and accounting. In fact, the entire government is a mix of the old and the new, the Enhanced and the Unenhanced. As with everything now, President Orlando is quite keen to make sure the council has a widespread representation.

  Old, young, Enhanced, Unenhanced, men and women alike. We all gather to share our thoughts, and make the city a better place.

  I find myself sitting, bored, for the majority of the meeting, my voice unheard, my manner probably appearing rather moody. I can't exactly help that, my mind wandering as it does when encountering discussions that I have little knowledge of, or great interest in.

  Yes, I do care about the latest news on the refugees and their housing, but I'd rather talk with Sophie about that and get her first hand perspective, than listen to the Social Secretary, Katherine Marr, rattle on about numbers and housing and job roles and integration and everything else that comes attached to it.

  I like the woman, don't get me wrong - partly, I think, that's because she is entirely Unenhanced - but find the endless chatter about it so dull. The same can certainly be said whenever - and I mean, whenever - Mr Smith drones on about money and finances. Only, really, when the topic of trade with Neorome comes up does he offer anything at all of interest to me.

  The endless chatter about redeveloping the city also has the life sucked out of it in this context. Now that the defences have been rebuilt and completed, all we ever seem to care about is working out what to do elsewhere, particularly around Outer Haven, with the finances we have. Oh, I'm certainly interested to hear what might happen in the western quarter where I used to live, but once again, the subject of money brings Secretary Smith into it.

  Moments later, I'm nodding off again.

  Other topics suffer the same, military matters that I most care about ever set to the bottom of the pile. I have, on occasion, spoken out about doing more, and have been quite keen to stress that we're not doing 'enough'. But, my words ever fall on deaf ears.

  Recently, I've just taken to shutting up, discussing such matters only when I'm alone with Secretary Burns, Deputy Commander Rycard, and his boss within the City Guard, Commander Glenn Hendricks. I like them all, though don't know Commander Hendricks quite so well. He's a large man, and a hybrid to boot, giving our traditionally ostracised kind a place at the top table.

  There is, of course, Ares as well, though he doesn't tend to involve himself with our personal matters unless he has to. And, finally, Colonel Hatcher, who led the Stalkers during the war both against us, and then alongside us. Now, he continues to oversee their, currently limited, operations, and though he doesn't get involved in the main council meetings, he does in the military council meetings that Defence Secretary Burns occasionally holds.

  Those I do like. They are specific, and targeted, and allow me to stretch my mind and be more...myself. I feel I can speak a little more candidly with Burns, Rycard, and Commander Hendricks. I have found, too, that Ares lends quite a good ear when I talk about my experiences in the north, and my concerns for what might be coming our way.

  I get the feeling, in fact, that he's still here for that very reason.

  And now, interestingly, his very place here is coming under our attention. Right there, in the main council meeting, President Orlando stands, addressing us, turning from dull matters to those I find myself suddenly interested in.

  "I have spoken," she says, "with the two young Emperors in Neorome." By now, with our alliance largely complete, we have set up long range communication and radio systems, allowing us to communicate quickly, and regularly, with our new friends across the sea. "They tell me that the matter of Ares and his mens' deployment here is under debate among their leadership and senate. I wanted to make you all aware of this. Soon, they may be leaving the city. I can safely say, for my own part at least, that I will be sad to see them all go, Commander Ares in particular. He is as gentlemanly as he is mighty, and his soldiers have been quite the draw here among the people."

  "Well, he shouldn't go then," comes the rattly old voice of Development Secretary Everett Linney. This one is another of the more dull members here, another Savant. And, quite surprisingly, he was even a member of the Consortium under Director Cromwell, now continuing his role within development, his expertise too great to be ignored. Apparently. "Do we not have some power of veto, or to at least discuss Ares's deployment?" he goes on.

  "No, Everett, we do not," says my grandmother with some element of force. "He is the head of their Imperial Guard. We have been lucky enough to have him stationed here as long as he has been."

  "It will make us a little more exposed," suggests Secretary Burns. "He and his men are, well, a very powerful force. To lose them would render us vulnerable to attack."

  "We are safe enough now, Leyton," she returns. "We must be able to fend for ourselves again. Have your conscription efforts not borne sufficient fruit?"

  "Not as yet, Madam President," Burns says. "There are some powerful soldiers out there, and we are still discovering hybrids who hid during Director Cromwell's reign. However, they take time to be trained in military matters, and become effective soldiers, if that's even what they want. We cannot, after all, force anyone to join our army simply because they have powers with military applications. Overall, and as a result, our numbers remain severely depleted from what they were before."

  The President nods, her wise old eyes pensive. "Well, unfortunately, this remains something we have no control over. Ares's departure, if and when it happens, isn't in our hands. And regardless, there is no suggestion that we are under any imminent threat. The defences are strong, and we have our contingencies." She looks around the room. I notice a series of heads nodding their agreement.

  Mine...doesn't.

  Her eyes fall on me.

  "Brie," she says. "Perhaps you'd like to say something?"

  I don't entirely like how I'm being put on the spot. It feels almost undermining, though I know she'd never do that. The truth is, this is exactly the sort of discussion I'd usually get involved in. Yet, right now...

  I shake my head. "Nothing," I say softly. "Nothing...new."

  In the back of my mind, somewhere deep, the whispers come again.

  They are coming, Brie. They are nearly here...

  "You're certain about that?" she says, staring quite directly at me. I find my eyes falling to Adryan, sat in the seat beside her own chair at the top of the table. He's looking at me curiously. Almost...suspiciously.

  "Um...yes," I say, a little unsettled. "Should I?"

  I look at Adryan again. I can hear his thoughts in my head. Tell them, Brie. Just be honest about it all.

  I frown. Honest about what? />
  The whispers in your head, his voice comes in my mind. About Zander. I know you still speak with him. I hear you at night. I...I know where you go when you think I'm sleeping...

  My heart tenses.

  "Something wrong, Brie?" I look away from Adryan, breaking our connection, and find my grandmother's eyes upon me.

  I gulp and shake my head. "Nothing," I say. "I'm fine."

  I refuse to meet Adryan's gaze, refuse to hear his thoughts. He must have worked out that I visit Cromwell occasionally. He must know somehow.

  Clearly, I haven't been hiding my tracks as well as I thought.

  "Well, if you think of anything," she says. "In the meantime, let us hear from Defence Secretary Burns regarding the latest in our scouting reports. Secretary?"

  I breathe a little easier as Burns stands up, and my grandmother sits down, still glancing at me occasionally as Burns begins to speak.

  "The latest scouting reports have turned up little of note," he says. "Our most recent mission to further explore the lands beyond our borders, and watch out for incoming threats, returned a week ago now. Nothing major has been discovered or reported. We will be sending out the next mission within the next few days..."

  I find myself looking up at him, this news unexpected. And...disappointing.

  "I thought we were to have continual scouts and sentries outside our borders," I say, finally finding my voice. It's surprising that it's Burns who I'm questioning. We are usually right on the same side. "This sounds like we're having at least ten days, even two weeks, without anyone out there watching over us."

  "Yes," says Burns. "I thought we spoke about this already, Brie?"

  I shake my head resolutely. "No, this is the first I'm hearing of it. We discussed it before. We should always keep watch over our lands, always have active scouting missions on the go. They'll help give some warning if...you know."

  "Well, those plans have changed slightly," Burns says.

  "Yes, it's been many months now," interrupts the voice of the spectacularly dull Secretary Smith, "since we faced the Cure. We have much bigger concerns now. Money and..."

  "With all due respect, Secretary Smith," I say flatly, "you have no idea what you're talking about. I don't try to tell you about economics. Don't tell me about how to protect this city."

  "I'm just trying to be realistic," he says, not really taking any offence from my words. His Savant nature, of course, makes such a thing rather difficult. "Haven't our scouts ventured far from our lands?"

  "They have," says Burns.

  "And they have discovered...what, exactly?" asks Smith. "Any threat at all?"

  "No," says Burns.

  "Well then, why spend money on these missions. We watch the city borders, isn't that enough? Why have soldiers out there, far from the city, for no reason?"

  "There is every reason," I grumble at the man, finding his manner so damn irritating. I look around the room, my passion now beginning to boil over. It grates on me so much how I probably sound. This crazy girl, broken by war, now never able to settle, always so worried about the next attack. Paranoid...that's what they probably think of me. I shake my head and take a breath. "I know how I sound," I say, "but I'm just trying to keep this city safe, that's all."

  I drop my eyes. The whispers come again.

  "Something's coming," I find myself whispering, talking along with the voice in my head. "They're nearly here..."

  "What was that, Brie?" asks my grandmother.

  I look up, unaware that I'd spoken, that the whispers in my head had taken form, trickled off my tongue.

  "You said they're nearly here?" she goes on. "Do I have to ask who?"

  "You're not speaking of this...cult again, are you?" says Smith, who's pretty much doing all he can to get my fist buried into his withered old face. "That was well over six months ago. A few soldiers and fanatics. Why does it worry you so, child..."

  "Because it's not just a few fanatics!" I growl, starting to lose my patience. "It is not just a cult. We are talking of a race of extremely powerful and dangerous people. And they are coming!"

  My voice lifts, far too loud for that calm room. Before I even realise it, I'm on my feet, my hands planted to the desk, my body fuming. Via some impulse, some need to make them understand, I fill my mind with what I saw with Kira in the north - the evil, the dread - and pulse it out into the room, pressing it into all of their minds.

  I watch eyes widen, bodies shudder and stiffen, gasps break from between lips as I force the visions into their heads. It's something I've been learning, to use my powers upon many people at once.

  Mass control, I think darkly. Just like Empress Vesper...

  "You see, now, do you?" I ask grimly, as the gathering begin to come back around, the enforced visions only lasting a few moments. "You see what we're dealing with. Imagine them, times a thousand. Imagine the horrors they could bring. Imagine..."

  "BRIE!"

  The word cuts through my dialogue, and I rip my eyes up to look upon my grandmother, President Orlando, up on her feet ahead of me.

  The room falls silent. Her eyes show an intensity I suddenly cannot match.

  "You know the laws," she says, seething. "You are not to use your powers here, on us, or anyone unless permitted. This...evolution you're going through...you have to control it."

  I sink down, nodding, lowering my eyes. My voice leaks out, just a whisper.

  "I needed to show you all," I say. "I'm alone here, seeing what I saw. Without Kira, there's no one who truly understands. No one except..."

  "Except who?"

  I lift my eyes to my grandmother. Something in them tells me she already suspects, already knows.

  "Please," she growls, "don't tell me you're talking about him."

  The eyes of the room, suddenly a little more wary and fearful, turn upon me. I find myself looking at Secretary Burns, himself a telepath of great power. Yet, this is different. This is something he could never do.

  My powers have...outgrown him now.

  "Who is she talking about?" asks Secretary Marr softly, looking around, a little out of her depth. This is no place for a simple Unenhanced, all this dramatic talk of death and war. Her role is in improving the social structure of the city, integrating us all together. She is far too kindly, sweet, and pure for all of this.

  I feel...guilty as I look at her, knowing what I just forced into her head. Visions that will now stay there, giving her nightmares, disrupting her sleep.

  "I'm sorry, Katherine," I say to her. "I didn't want to put all that in your mind."

  She frowns, looking rather overwhelmed, her eyes turning again to the President.

  But my grandmother only has eyes for me.

  "I'm talking," she growls, answering Katherine, "about my predecessor. I'm talking about Director Cromwell."

  The room goes quiet again, in a mild state of shock. This is not how these meetings usually go.

  "Is it true, Brie?" the President goes on. "Is it true that you've been visiting with him?"

  I take a moment, wondering how to answer. My silence is indicting. I see no reason to lie now.

  "He helps me," I say softly. "He helps me understand my powers, what I've been through. I...I know you won't understand, and that's what I didn't tell you. But...he has changed, grandma."

  She glares at me, shaking her head. "I am so...disappointed in you, Brie."

  The words, more than anything, send a dull ache to my heart. They hurt me. More than I thought they could.

  I really am alone here, I think. I really am on my own.

  No, comes a whisper, you're not. I will always be with you, Brie.

  Zander...I think, a tiny smile driving off the hurt on my face, banishing the cold words sent from my grandmother's lips. You're here.

  I'm always here, one way or another, he whispers in my mind. Helping you in the shadows. Guiding you how best I can. But you're...going beyond what I ever expected, Brie.

  I nod to myself, forgetting t
he occupants of the room as I sink into my chair, fall into my mind. Is it you, I ask. The whispers. The warnings.

  No, sis, he says. You have a link to them now. After everything that happened, you sense them coming. You know they're near...

  And they are near? I ask, my heart starting to pound. That's true?

  Near. Yes. They are nearly here...

  Outside of my head, back in the room, a sudden knock blasts at the door. I find myself coming to, eyes wide as I turn, as the rest do, to the entrance. There, I see Commander Ares stamping in, grand and tall, so physically impressive. Behind him, a small group of his men wait, dressed in their silver armour as he is.

  "Commander Ares," the President says, quite surprised to see him enter with such force. "Is something wrong?"

  The great man turns his head, guiding those deep eyes of his back to the door. Behind, being led inside by two of his soldiers, I see a familiar figure. Young, handsome, dressed in pelts and furs, a necklace of fangs and claws hanging around his neck.

  "West..." I whisper, staring right at him.

  "We found him while training beyond the northern gate," Ares says. "He tells us he is known to you. That he has urgent news."

  "Yes, of course, this is one of the Fangs," says the President. "West, isn't it?"

  West steps in. I find myself uprooting from my chair, moving quickly over towards him. I look up at Ares who nods to me and steps away, letting me guide him in, try to calm him. He looks weary, muddied, agitated. There's some blood on him, the scrape of a gunshot wound across his cheek.

  "What happened, West?" I ask. "Are you alone? Where are the others?"

  He shakes his head. I can feel his nerves. For a long time, he never spoke. Addressing a crowd must be almost impossible.

  The room falls utterly silent. I take his hand to steady him, feel the tremble. And without making eye contact, I gently try to calm him, draw back his hesitation, let his words flow free.

  "Rhoth," he manages to say, his voice weak and quiet. "He was...taken."