The Rift Coda

by Amy S. Foster

  “Well,” he says, cracking his neck from one side to the next, “you can certainly try.”

  I wait a beat and then I leap. I bring an arm out, ready to punch him in the skull. My jump is lightning fast. Of course, he knows it’s coming, but he won’t be able to get out of the way in time.

  Except he does.

  Not only does he swivel out of my reach but in return, he gives me a kick to the ribs that sends me flying over the ropes and onto the wooden floor where I skitter a few feet. I watch from the ground as he bounds out of the ring doing a somersault in the air and landing squarely on his feet.

  “I am disappointed, Ryn.” he says with chilling calmness as he stalks over to me. I curl up on the floor, deliberately playing possum, trying to buy some time. I know what this means. I know what he is, I just don’t get it. Before I can figure it out, though, he is on me like a flash flood. He picks up my left arm and bends down to whisper in my ear. “You actually thought that we would let a bunch of teenagers be in charge of the Earth’s defenses? Come on. You all were nothing more than security guards really. Mall cops,” he says meanly. “We’re thinning the herd, making sure that whoever stays alive long enough to reach true adulthood is the best of the best.”

  He bends my wrist back and with one nasty jab attempts to break my arm at the elbow. There is no crack and I don’t cry out. He looks at me, confused. God, I hate his face. I kick out with my feet and sweep him off his so he lands on his back with a thud.

  “Funny story, got a robot arm in the Multiverse,” I tell him as I rear back and punch him in the face with it. The satisfaction of that one act is enough to make me want to moan. Before I can hit him again, though, he grabs both my wrists and flings me once again. This time, I’m ready for it. I spin sideways in the air and land in a crouched position.

  “Stop fighting this, Ryn,” he says as we circle each other. “The Roones wanted to modify small children and we let them, for a price. It took a few years of negotiating, but finally they came around and enhanced adult troops as well. Actual soldiers, thousands of elite troops, all with special-ops training. Including me. Give it up. You’re only going to get hurt.”

  I don’t love the fact that there are new players on the game board. I don’t doubt the altered Roones genetically modified grown men and probably some women, although there aren’t exactly tons of women in special ops. I highly doubt, though, that they would ever give the adults all the same abilities they gave to us. There was a reason the altered Roones wanted kids. Seelye was too busy being Super Douche to pay attention.

  “You still want to fight?” he asks me playfully.

  “Yeah,” I tell him, jutting my neck forward, loosening my shoulders with a little rotation in either direction.

  “Too bad,” Seelye says with authority. And then, with his enhanced reflexes, he pulls a gun out from behind his back. Presumably it had been tucked into his jeans, covered by his shirt. He doesn’t even flinch. He just shoots me in the stomach. Not a kill shot. So we’re still there. He still wants me alive. Well, he probably doesn’t, but Edo sure as hell does.

  I feel a sharp jolt to my abdomen, but I don’t flinch. I flash him an insidious grin. Seelye does a double take. I should be bleeding. I should be doubled over. He only hesitates for a moment, though, before he starts shooting again. Again, this time, I’m ready.

  I start dodging bullets. I zigzag around the room, running up the walls, flipping over equipment. There’s just no way he can get me in his sights. I count the gunshots. He has to know that he won’t catch me, but he still tries. Does he really think he’s that much better than me? He may have been a Navy Seal or whatever in another life, but in this one, he’s nothing more than an executive. While he’s been flying around in the company jet, kissing Roone ass, I’ve been training and patrolling for eight hours a day, five days a week for three years.

  When I know he’s out of ammunition, I run at him.

  He stands his ground, tossing his gun to the floor. He strikes first with a telegraphed jab that I easily block. I kick him hard in the sternum and now he’s the one flailing across the room. He flips up like a springboard and I race at him again. This time he blocks me. He gets one good uppercut in, but when he goes to punch me again, I grab hold of his wrist and elbow him hard in the back. I follow it up with a decisive punch to his head using the back of my balled-up hand. “Cuff!” I yell and I let him watch the sensuit slide off my body and recoil back into my bracelet.

  It’s a distraction, and he’s dumb enough to fall for it. He lets down his guard and it gives me enough time to reach out like a viper and grab hold of his neck. I keep my arm extended and lift him off the ground. “I made some friends out there,” I hiss. “You’re right. I’m a genius and I would never come back here unless I knew I had some decent backup.” Seelye is gurgling. His face is turning purple. “What’s that?” I ask innocently. “You’re sorry for all the abuse and the pain and for lying to us and for being stupid enough to believe in a highly advanced species that wants to turn us into drugged-out zombie killers?” Seelye’s eyes are bulging now. “Well, I don’t forgive you and all of you are fucked.” And with that I dig my fingers into his flesh until my nails pierce his skin. I give a mighty jerk and pull. Seelye’s lifeless body slumps to the ground.

  I am standing there with his esophagus in my hands.

  This seems a bit extreme, even for me, but at least I won’t have to hear his bullshit anymore.

  I quickly drop the wet tissue and cartilage to the floor. It lands with a slick thud. I rip the T-shirt off Seelye’s lifeless form and wipe my hand with it. Okay. Seelye is dead. I’m sure they’ll send a replacement as soon as they can, but, at least for now, the chaos of the power vacuum can be used to our advantage.

  Now, I have to book it, but I have no idea the kind of security Seelye and the altered Roones have put in place since I was first detained. I hope it’s just his personal guard, even though they have probably been altered, too. Of course, this is a massive pain in my ass, but better to kill one of them than one of my fellow Citadels. Seelye had been right about one thing: I don’t want any more innocent blood on my hands. If these assholes signed up to be altered, in secret, as part of some shadow division of ARC to put down unruly Citadels (who are just kids after all), then their blood is the opposite of innocent.

  What I’d really like to do is go down to the med bay and have it out with Edo. The priority, though, is getting to the Village. I have to get an accurate fix on not only the numbers of troops we’re facing, but where we’ll face them. Seelye may have been woefully ignorant, but the altered Roones won’t leave anything to chance. If I was them? I would be deploying the Orsalines, Spiradaels, and Settiku Hesh—I’d also be pretty bummed about having burned the Akshaj bridge. Right now, though, there are too many variables when it comes to finding Edo and that’s presuming she’s even here, so she’ll have to wait. The smartest move is to get out of Camp Bonneville immediately.

  There are bound to be some guards at the door. I could fight them or I could just go stealth with my sensuit. I think about the jackass who called me “little lady.” He hasn’t been brainwashed. He’s just a smarmy asshole who got a sick kind of pleasure lording his power over me. It’s a tough one, but I can’t kill someone for being sexist. If I started doing that, this Earth would likely turn into Themyscira.

  I tell my suit to cuff to stealth. I don’t have my computer, so I assume I don’t have the entire arsenal of costume changes I might normally have. I would imagine that the cuff itself probably stores a few basic sensuit settings for situations just like this and, thankfully, I see that I’m right when the silky fabric of the suit blooms over my wrist and my arm disappears.

  I stand at the door and activate it. I wait, moving off to the side. No one comes in. I slide the doors open again, and this time four of Seelye’s enhanced soldiers enter the room. They scramble over to Seelye, barking orders and pulling their weapons. I race to bolt through the doors before t
hey close again. These guys might not have all the bells and whistles, but they are far from dumb. They will wonder eventually how the door opened on its own and I don’t want to be around when they start asking questions.

  I make it down the hall to the stairway when the alarm goes off. I now have less than a minute to make it out of the bunker. After that, the entire place goes on lockdown and I won’t even be able to access the emergency hatch. I practically leap up the stairs as if gravity doesn’t apply to my legs. I take them four at time at first and then as the seconds begin to tick down, I hop up entire floors.

  At one point, another unit of adult Citadels comes crashing down the stairwell. I make myself flat against the wall as they pass, all the while counting down in my head. When I finally get to the ground level, I have less than twenty seconds. If I make a run for the emergency hatch, there’s a good chance that I might not make it in time. If I go for the transport bay, I know I can probably get there in time, but there are bound to be a lot of troops guarding that area. I swallow my breaths. I have to be as quiet as my suit.

  I decide not to risk the hatch and make a run for the transport bay. I pass by the ammunitions depot and see the massive metal doorway begin to lower down. There are troops everywhere—Seelye’s guards, and a couple of regular Citadels. I’m not sure if they are from here or another Rift site because I’m moving too fast to get a decent look. It doesn’t matter; they’re going to be harder to maneuver around than the adults. It’s my bad luck that all of them are blocking the remaining steps down to the exit.

  I climb atop the railing and then use it to sail over their heads. One of my own unit of Citadels looks curiously above her head as I go past. No doubt she’s heard my heart, but she has no idea what’s happening, so I’m guessing that she has dismissed it as an anomaly. Invisible, flying Citadels aren’t exactly a thing around here. I land and roll on my back so that I don’t break my legs with the force of the landing. The door is almost closed at this point and I slide my body through it like I’m swimming through deep water.

  The garage door shuts with a shutter and a bang. There are enemy troops all around me. The best I can do is start running. I take off. I hear shouting behind me. They know, of course they do, that somehow, I have managed to escape. I’d like to think that it is my superior combat and tracking skills that will allow me to escape, but not even my ego is that broad. The sensuit gives me the advantage here and I take it, gladly.

  It’s ten miles to the Village. There’s no point in covering my tracks or doubling back. They know it’s where we are holed up. I wish that I could throw a sensuit over the entire place, but it’s too late for that anyhow. ARC won’t know exactly what’s happening inside there, but their tech will have picked up the multiple Rifts in and out. I can only pray that’s all they can pick up. If somehow they are able to figure out that we are Rifting in other species and not just human Citadels, we’re screwed.

  I’m counting on their ignorance—that and the fact they’ll use our families to blackmail us to surrender. My family is tucked away safely, but apart from Beta Team’s, everyone else’s is vulnerable. This means that we’re going to have to figure it out before ARC gives us the ultimatum.

  Damn it.

  Every time I think of a solution to a problem, there are a dozen more problems imbedded in the solution. I don’t have any time. There’s never any time. And can I expect the human UFA to fight if they think it will cost them the lives of their parents? They’re going to be pissed when they realize that I got my family out safely and rightly so. More lies then . . .

  Damn it.

  ARC is going to use the fact that I got the Betas’ families out to their advantage. They’ll snitch as soon as it suits them and then my credibility will be severely undermined and the UFA fractured.

  Damn it.

  One fire at a time. That one hasn’t even started yet. I’ll plan for it, yes, but I have to focus on the things that are exploding right now.

  It’s winter. It never gets arctic here in the Pacific Northwest, but it does freeze. It must have rained recently and then the temperature dropped below zero. A sheen of frost covers the underbrush, and each time I put a foot down there is a crunching sound. It’s also a little slippery in the more open patches, where the mud is slick. I don’t bother to mess with these dangerous spots. I vault myself into the air, grabbing hold of branches covered in sharp green needles, and swing over the spots where I might trip.

  I can hear them behind me. They aren’t yelling or even talking. They, like me, have become specters, whipping and racing through the forest like a whisper of a thing that was. I’m almost certain, though, that these Citadels—if that’s what they even are—aren’t local. More than likely they are Seelye’s shadow soldiers. This gives me a double advantage. I know the fastest route. I know where to find the hidden paths.

  Eventually, there is only silence behind me. I’ve either lost them, or they’ve been told to retreat. Edo wants me alive. I think she also wants me fairly cooperative. I have to assume they are going to let me think I’ve won this one, and since I killed Seelye, I kinda feel like I did.

  When I get to the Village gate, I uncuff quickly and tell the Citadels there to let me in. They have tripled their guard, which is good to see. Also, ten Faida are there. This in and of itself fills me with relief. We have our reinforcements.

  The Citadel at the gate doesn’t know me, and he balks at my demand. “You aren’t wearing a UFA patch,” he tells me warily. I catch a glimpse of the burgundy circle on his uniform. It has two arms held up in a fist, one human, one a jeweled Akshaj, over a pair of black wings. Below it is a round lapis lazuli–shaped stone over a single silver rod to represent the SenMachs. “United Free Army” in bold lettering rings the entire thing.

  “I designed that patch,” I tell him as I bend over. I have to admit, I’m more than a little winded. “I’m Ryn Whittaker, let me in.” The guy just looks at me and then to his friend and I realize that I don’t know anyone here and for a second I freak out. What if they think I’ve been turned? What if the Village has already been infiltrated?

  “I know this human Citadel,” a Faida commands stridently. “She is Ryn Whittaker. Let her pass.” I look at the Faida more closely. He does look familiar. Then again, the Faida are all so insanely good-looking that all their features start to blend after a while, like flipping the pages of a glossy magazine.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name,” I say, which is a lie. I would have remembered his name had he told me. I realize, though, as commander it’s important to make those under me feel important and special, to build a bond. Really, I’m just being polite.

  “I am Hayres. It is most reassuring to see that you have returned.”

  “To you and me both, Hayres.” I nod to the others and the metal gate slides open. “Where is Navaa and the rest of the Command unit?”

  “They have set up a base in a restaurant called Sugar Skull. It is on the Main Street. I can take you there if you wish,” Hayres tells me in that slightly condescending way that all Faida have of talking. Like I’m a precocious ten-year-old.

  “No, thank you,” I tell him firmly, setting a tone of my own. “I know exactly where that place is. You can remain at your post.”

  I begin to walk down the road. This is a massive compound. Not only is there a village proper for the people and a menagerie for the animals that come through the Rift, but habitats—we call them “habs”—as well, specialized areas for those species who don’t quite fit into either of those categories. I don’t know why I had been worried about camps. There’s enough housing here to billet all the troops. They certainly won’t get their own houses or apartments, but they can double or triple up. Gomda will have this issue sorted, I’m sure.

  It doesn’t take me long to get to what they call Main Street. That’s the thing about the Village, it is insidiously adorable. There are little shops and restaurants with varying architecture. One of half a dozen c
offee shops is at the top end of this street in a building that is all wooden corners and sleek lines. Right next to it is a women’s clothing boutique in what looks like an old gas station from the fifties.

  As much as possible, the Village is self-sustainable. There are farms, gardens, and free ranges for animals that the butchers will slaughter for market or the restaurants. There are warehouses where candles, yarn, fabrics, and ceramics are made. The Village has a large and impressive bookstore, but it also has its own publishing imprint as well as a newspaper and a little TV station, but everything is censored. There is no real “art” here—only propaganda for ARC.

  There are seven distinct domestic areas made to mimic neighborhoods from cultures around the world—this world. One of the most disturbing things about this place is that Immigrants from other Earths are forced to assimilate. They must live like humans—and if they are human, they are forced to live like humans from here. They must leave their own cultures behind. I suppose for some, the trade-off is fair. Their Earth might have been war-torn, ravaged by famine or disease. They might even be centuries behind us technologically. In return for this peace and prosperity, they must remain childless—to control the population.

  And they can never, ever leave.

  At one time, when I thought the Rifts were unnavigable (and before I’d actually been here), I thought the Village was a good option for Immigrants. I thought that the safe haven we provided them was more generous than incarceration and certainly better than execution. And then I actually saw this place and what it demanded firsthand. This is just a really nice prison. And execution is always on the table when it comes to ARC.