Cardinal, (Citizen Saga, Book 2)

by Claire, Nicola

  I mouthed, "I'm sorry," as scurrying feet surrounded us and further indistinct but excited, and I was guessing angry, words in Wáitaměi were shared.

  And then I was being carried by several hands and stolen away from the courtyard in front of the apartments. But I couldn't tell where to, and I couldn't see who it was carrying me, because the smoke surrounded me, the incense invaded my nose, and I was sure I must have been slipped a Serenity Tab as the entire night turned upside down and I stared at my feet thinking they were dancing on tiny, glittering stars.

  I giggled. Or at least, I tried to giggle, it was more like a silent gasp.

  And then the stars faded. And the sweet, pungent odour of frankincense evaporated. And everything was replaced with ginger and garlic and rice wine.

  Home, I thought. Heaven must be where you go to finally be home.

  Chapter 4

  I Knew It With Every Fibre Of My Being

  Lena

  I felt like I was coming down off a ration high. My mouth was cotton wool thick, my throat parched and sandpapery dry, my body ached. My head thumped. My vision was blurred. And for a second I couldn't figure out where I was. For a suspended moment in time I thought I was somewhere other than my beloved Wánměi. Somewhere beyond the walls General Chew-wen had made.

  Then understanding rushed back in as my brain finally translated the Wáitaměi - which had sounded like a foreign language for a brief time - and realisation hit me like a tonne of bricks. I groaned, tried to sit up, but must have pressed on my injured hip, and then let out a pathetic whimper.

  "This is your zebra?" a young man's voice sounded out in incredulous Wáitaměi.

  "Shh," the girl of earlier exclaimed. "You'll offend her."

  He made a scoffing sound. "She probably can't even understand Wáitaměi. Like most Elite."

  "I understand perfectly," I replied in the same language, managing to finally sit upright.

  The room swam before my eyes, the lights too bright, making me shield my gaze with a shaking hand. I stared at the tremors for a long moment and then lowered my arm to my lap.

  "Why do I feel like I've just been on a Serenity trip?"

  "The drones are firing modified laser beams," the young man, no more than a teenage boy I realised, offered reluctantly. I had the impression he didn't want to entertain me at all. I was probably in his home, jeopardising his family's safety. I could hardly blame him.

  I let his words sink in while I took in my surroundings. My eyes slowly adjusting to the bright fluorescent lighting. It took a few seconds to note there were no windows. The walls were blank cinder block. And the exposed piping lagged in insulation.

  We were in the basement of the apartment block, at a guess. So, no one's home, as such.

  I returned my attention to my companions. Or saviours. I wasn't sure which yet. The young girl with hair like mine was accompanied by an almost identical twin, also with hair like mine. But on closer inspection, the second girl was younger. Maybe only fifteen. I stared at their hair for a long time, wondering how their imitation made me feel.

  I decided it was uncomfortable, and it wasn't until I turned my attention to the young man who'd spoken so tellingly that I realised why. He wore a worried expression. One mixed with devotion and concern for the girl who'd insisted they help me. And layered in distrust and fear. A healthy reaction to have in Overseer controlled Wánměi.

  "Thank you," I offered. The boy scowled, the girls beamed beautific smiles. "But I should get going."

  Their smiles fell.

  "You can't go out, curfew has been initiated," the older girl advised. The scowl on the boy deepened.

  "I'll be careful," I promised, pushing up to my feet and then promptly finding myself face down on the sofa I'd been placed upon.

  What?

  "Yeah," the boy said. "Those laser beams pack a punch."

  I groaned and rolled over to my back, staring at the concrete ceiling.

  "OK," I said. "Why don't you tell me where I am?"

  "This is our base of operations," the same girl who'd been doing most of the talking offered proudly.

  "Li Xiu Ying!" the boy growled, her name a warning to not continue.

  I took another look around the space, noted the chairs opposite the old couch, the rickety table to the side with their cellphones lying atop - all minus their SIM cards - the packets of biscuits and nibbles stored on a shelf beneath. There was nothing else to indicate just what sort of base of operations this hide-away was, but my eyes kept being pulled back to the SIM-less phones. Now partially off-grid and untraceable by the Overseers.

  "Why do you need a base of operations?" I asked, returning my abused body to a sitting position.

  "To fight the cause, of course," Li Xiu Ying explained.

  "Xiu Ying," the boy ground out, turning to block her from my view. He wasn't overly tall, but he did have good shoulders. Young enough to be still developing, but showing promise that I was sure was not lost on young Xiu Ying.

  He spoke too low for me to hear, so I turned my attention to the younger girl, who had to be Xiu Ying's sister. She smiled shyly at me, and then fingered her hair, as though hoping I'd notice.

  I had a terrible feeling about all of this.

  "I like your hair," I whispered, allowing Xiu Ying and her boyfriend to have their angry moment in private.

  The young girl took a step closer and blushed.

  "Xiu did it for me," she advised.

  "Because of mine?" I asked softly. She nodded. "That could be dangerous."

  "Wánměi is dangerous no matter what," Xiu Ying supplied, letting me know their conversation was over. The boy was brooding further along the wall, leaning back, one leg cocked against the cinder blocks, arms crossed over his chest.

  I guess Xiu Ying had won that round.

  I shifted back on the sofa and tried to decide how to deal with this. I'd been meaning to dye my hair all week. It was a dead giveaway, the emphasis on "dead." And now I had groupies. I didn't feel in the remotest way worthy of their following.

  "Then why make things worse for yourselves?" I finally asked.

  "We're not alone," she announced. "On Friday I counted twenty at school. By Monday there will be more."

  "Until the Overseers decree otherwise," I argued.

  She lifted her chin defiantly and I couldn't help admiring the girl. But she was just that. A girl. In the middle of a war zone.

  I decided to change the subject, Li Xiu Ying, The Zebra imitator, had dug her heels in and wouldn't be budged.

  "Who was the old man?" I asked and the younger girl bit her lip, looking tearfully towards the boy down the hall.

  "He was Zhang Jun's grandfather," Xiu Ying supplied, her voice heavy with sadness.

  I glanced down toward the young man understanding his reaction to my presence now, more than ever. Determinedly pushing off from the relative safe harbour of the sofa, I walked slowly, hand outstretched against the wall for balance, toward him. He didn't look up from his inspection of the ground, but I knew he was aware of my approach.

  I stopped before him, brought my hands together and bowed, just like my nanny had taught me. Then repeated a proverb once told to me, "Life is a dream walking, death is going home."

  I lifted my head from the bow and looked into his eyes, letting him see my understanding. It wasn't hollow. I'd been where he was right now. Torn between respect for their sacrifice, anger at their stupidity, and heartache at your own loss.

  "How did he get the laser gun?" I asked. In fact, how did Zhang Jun know about the modified drone laser beam?

  "He was very resourceful," the boy said, his voice cracking.

  "And you did not agree with his pursuits?" I pushed gently.

  "They brought his death. They bring only heartache. We are better to live appropriately and not be singled out at all."

  I couldn't argue with that. I couldn't live by it, either. But I had no words to tell him he shouldn't.

  I nodded and stepped b
ack, feeling marginally better. I needed to get back to the new rebel base in Little D'awa, but a quick glance at my watch told me the reinstated curfew still had an hour to go. In my current compromised condition I wouldn't make it. I had to be realistic. And the chances of the drones scouring the streets for me in great numbers was high.

  "Look," I said. "I appreciate your assistance, but you should return to your homes. By morning, I'll be gone."

  Xiu Ying stepped forward. "We want to help you in your fight," she declared.

  "What fight?" I asked, trying to play dumb.

  "The revolution," she qualified, making Zhang Jun groan. "Jun!" she chastised. "You know I'm right. You know your grandfather was right."

  "And when Juan is killed?" he demanded, pointing a finger at Xiu Ying's little sister. "How will you feel about your ideals then?"

  Her chin lifted again in that adorable defiant way she had. She brushed her white and black hair from her face and met his steely gaze.

  "This is my Wánměi," she announced. "I will not let it flounder."

  "Xiu," he pleaded. "It is too big for us to fight."

  She bit her bottom lip, hearing the truth in his words. It was too big. The revolutionaries were all but wiped out. The Cardinal drones doubled in numbers since the celebration ball. The Chief Overseer mounting a campaign that I was sure was his only focus in life right now. A campaign to see Trent killed and me... I didn't know yet, but I had a feeling it might be worse than death.

  "Look," I said, feeling my legs tremble with the effort required to stand. I hurriedly took another seat on the sofa. "I agree with Jun. It is too great to fight. But that doesn't mean we can't share intel and help each other survive this dangerous time."

  "Share what?" Jun asked, moving closer for the first time, a smattering of interest lighting up his eyes. I had the feeling his grandfather knew a lot, taught his grandson much. Being raised like that leaves its mark. Look at me. My father taught me to mix with the lower classes, to make myself as at home in Wáikěiton as I was on Broadway. To this day, I seek the companionship of Citizens, not Elite. My father may be dead and long gone, but his lesson lives on.

  "Well," I started. "First, you need to know that the Chief Overseer will do anything to gain knowledge of me and my friends. Telling anyone you met me would be unwise."

  "I agree," Jun said, moving to take a seat opposite.

  "Also," I glanced over at their phones, "removing the SIM card only removes your identity from the system. You have to take the battery out to be completely off-grid."

  His eyes darted to the phones on the table. "But if we are not identifiable, then surely that is enough."

  "Shiloh is evolving," I offered. "There's no telling how she'll trace a cellphone that is still live."

  He looked aghast. Obviously this was not something his grandfather had warned him of. He stood abruptly and proceeded to remove all the batteries from the devices. I remained quiet while he performed his belated safety measures and took a good look into the girls' eyes. Both were ration dose free.

  Jun returned to his seat and looked at me eagerly.

  "Your turn," I said. "What's in the laser beams and how did you know about them?"

  He hesitated only a moment and then said, "Some of our people were fired upon two days ago. One of them made it back to the apartments, but his behaviour was not consistent with just burns. He tested clear, when he hadn't ration dosed for over a week."

  "That was a risk," I said, wondering why his friend wanted to test when he was clearly not ready to.

  "He felt compelled to test, and managed to do so before anyone could stop him."

  A chill raced down my spine. That was impossible. Wasn't it?

  Jun sat back in his chair and offered me a grim smile. "You understand," he said.

  I didn't, not really. But I think he was referring to how ominous this development was. Would I feel compelled to test in the next day or so? And if I did, would I bring the entire Cardinal force down on those I lived with in Little D'awa?

  "How long before he tested?" I asked, feeling numb.

  "Two days," he whispered. "He tested this morning. The drones arrived five minutes later and took him away."

  "His family?"

  All three nodded their heads. A complete wipe.

  "How?" I murmured. "How do you stop it?" How did the Overseers come up with this?

  "I don't know how to stop it," Jun said slowly. "But Grandfather was certain he understood how it was done." My eyes flicked to his, my turn to be eager. "Similar to how Serenity controls our reactions, our central nervous system's response, making us calmer and more docile, easier to control after that initial high, the laser beam administers a drug subcutaneously, that forces the desire for model behaviour, a fear of breaking the rules. Initial euphoria followed by paranoia through what he called an opiate."

  "How did your grandfather figure that out?"

  He looked a little uneasy then.

  "Tell her, Jun," Xiu urged, moving closer and placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder. His larger one came up and engulfed hers, his eyes looking adoringly up at her sweet face. I felt a twinge of something poignant deep inside. I ignored it and waited patiently for Jun to go on.

  He finally looked across the small space towards me and sucked in a deep breath of air. "My grandfather was a chemist before General Chew-wen came to power. He helped create Serenity."

  Oh, boy. I didn't see that one coming. All of those Citizens with talents that helped build our society were swallowed into the Overseers' coffers and never seen again. It was assumed they became Overseers themselves. The Elite of even the Elite. But Zhang Jun's grandfather had escaped that fate, which made you wonder, what happened to the other professionals? Was their life better than a Citizen in Muhgah Foh? Or worse?

  I realised then, what a goldmine of information we had lost tonight. What more could Zhang Jun's grandfather have told me? What insight could he have given, that the Overseers wouldn't expect us to have? I stared at his grandson, trying not to show my intrigue. This young man knew of the dangers, knew of the horrors his girlfriend failed to see. I suspected much of his knowledge was handed down to him by his grandfather; a man who gave his life tonight in payment for past deeds.

  I made a decision. It wasn't one I was particularly proud of. But now was not the time to grow a conscience. Wánměi needed a rebellion, more than it needed the type of constricted, dictatorial rule the Chief Overseer gave.

  I knew this now. I knew it with every fibre of my being. Sitting with the next generation of Citizens, in the basement of an apartment building, performing treason just by being here, saying these things. I knew that Wánměi had to change. And something told me my father had known it too.

  Why else would he have given me the tools to walk among these people?

  Why else would he have given me the Citizen identity of Lena Carr?

  Chapter 5

  The One I Would Try My Hardest To Perfect For Her

  Trent

  Lena had been gone all night and I hadn't slept a wink. I rubbed a hand across my scratchy face, trying to bring blood back to my cheeks and return vision to my sleep deprived eyes. Neither worked, until Isha handed me a cup of steaming coffee.

  "Where's Harjeet?" I asked his shadow. She had a tendency to follow the man around. I hadn't worked out yet if it was puppy love, or the girl just knew which side of her bread was buttered.

  "He is working," she supplied, haughtily, in Anglisc laced with a hint of a D'awan accent. She much preferred to converse in D'maru and I would have too if it made her features soften, but Harjeet had insisted on Anglisc whilst in this building. Something about establishing comradery. Isha hadn't received that memo yet.

  "Thanks," I offered, lifting the mug in salute and wishing she'd just bugger off and go shadow Harjeet instead of me. But I suspected she had received the cunning D'awan's memo about keeping a close eye on the rebel leader and then report back to him.

  I sighed
as I let the smell of caffeine wake me up, then took my first sip. Even Lena's absence didn't seem so disastrous with coffee in my gut.

  "She's back," Alan supplied as he waltzed into our new tech room. It was much like the old one. Minus Kevin.

  My feet hit the floor and I swung my gaze over to the vid-screens. "Where?" I demanded.

  "Came through the roof, what do you think?" Alan replied, accepting another coffee from Isha. She slunk into the back of the room and pretended we couldn't see her.

  "There she is," Si offered, pointing at an image of Lena walking down one of the halls. I cocked my head and studied her. She seemed OK. Not limping. No obvious burn marks, but I couldn't see all of her to be sure. Her hair had come loose from her braid, now long but wavy from the kinks the non-appropriate hairstyle had given her.

  Wherever she'd come from, she hadn't had a chance to shower or brush her hair straight. I was surprised she made it back without being picked up for that mistake in her appearance alone.

  And then I reminded myself, it was Lena, and nothing should surprise me with this Elite.

  I pushed up from my chair, placed my mug on the table beside me, and then walked out of the room. No one stopped me. Everyone knew exactly where I was going and interfering would only make me angrier than I already was.

  She'd made it inside her sleeping quarters before I got there. Why she even bothered, I did not know. She would have suspected we'd have seen her return on the cameras. But it was Elite superiority she wore like a cloak that enabled her to overlook minor details like that; in her mind, she was above our reproach. I'd been working on breaking her of it.

  I didn't knock. I just slipped my decoder into her keypad and let it do its thing, then snuck inside her door. Breaking and entering was perhaps not the best way to start this conversation, but my anger had passed fury and headed straight for volcanic.

  The shower was running and for a second I halted in my tracks. Which was stupid, because a part of me had known it would be the first place she'd go after a night like that. And then my mind chose to recollect the image of her hitting the ground in Muhgah Foh running, the look of resolve on her beautiful face. The resignation when the Citizens had been rounded up and forced to kneel for their sentencing.