Allie's War Season Four

by JC Andrijeski

  Seeing the eyes reflecting back at me through that dim but rising light, I sucked in a breath. Next to me, Revik’s light flinched, too. Then we all seemed to be walking faster.

  I couldn’t believe just how many of them there were.

  What looked like several hundred people were crammed into two, long, weirdly old-fashioned-looking... well, cages.

  There was really no other word for them.

  The cages themselves stood maybe seven feet tall on the inside, with thick metal bars spaced only an inch or two apart and clearly of organic and dead metals in equal proportions. The ends of those bars disappeared into the floor of the warehouse on the lower end, and when I looked down, I saw bare feet below an odd variety of clothing styles that spanned from traditional, Chinese-looking and Indian peasant-type attire to full-fledged business suits and party gowns, as well as a number of outfits that looked more military in origin.

  Looking up and across that span of bodies, I wondered how they slept.

  Glancing back over the insignias on a few of military uniforms, I tried to decide if they belonged to private sec or the remnants of one of the human militaries.

  After a few more seconds, I decided it was probably a mixture of both.

  Looking at all of those pale, dirt-smudged faces, including those behind hands that clutched at the thick bars, I could only return their stares at first, nearly paralyzed.

  We all stopped once we stood between the two rows of cages, and then all of us were standing in the middle of that open space, looking from one row of faces to another.

  I noticed a lot of them were looking at Terian, watching him warily.

  I also noticed how quiet they were. Silent, really.

  Pretty unusual in a group of people this large, whatever their race.

  Even as I thought it, Surli muttered from my right, “Why aren’t they speaking? Asking for help?” Seeing me look at him, he pursed his lips. “Wouldn’t you ask for help? If you were being held prisoner by this crazy fuck?”

  Next to him, Stanley, who seemed to have bonded with Surli during their deployment here together, raised his hand to indicate for him to be quiet.

  Glancing at Stanley, I motioned with a gesture that I agreed with him.

  Whatever was going on here, I could feel that something was wrong.

  As soon I thought it, I glanced at Revik.

  I immediately saw that he felt it, too.

  He’d gone rigid, halfway in a fighting stance, or at least one that indicated he was expecting something to happen. Looking at him, I felt that uneasiness worsen. I glanced behind us then, meaning back through the row of crates from which we’d come.

  As I did, I grew aware that my heart was beating harder again, that the hair at the back of my neck was prickling, almost like I could feel someone standing behind me... or maybe like something was again happening in the construct around us.

  I couldn’t see anything, though. No one apart from us.

  The warehouse felt totally silent, too, now absent even of the sound of shuffled footsteps and hands touching the bars. With the prisoners standing so still and wordless, I didn’t even hear clothing rubbing against skin, or the sound of breathing, not even my own.

  When Terian spoke, I probably jumped half a foot.

  My eyes jerked back to where he stood in front of us.

  Everyone else turned to stare at him, too. I felt my hands curl into fists where they now hung by my sides, even as another flicker of charged light flashed off Revik’s aleimi. I noticed only then that Revik had let go of me, and stood a few feet away. I could feel him still staring behind us, at the expanse of warehouse from which we’d just come.

  When I looked at Terian, though, I forgot all of that.

  He was looking directly at me. I saw grief in his eyes.

  More than that, I saw fear.

  “I warned you,” he told me sadly. “I warned you, Alyson, dear. I did.”

  Next to me, Revik tensed.

  I felt another coil of current slide through my light, nearly paralyzing me, but I didn’t look away from Terian’s face.

  “In through the out door...” he whispered.

  I felt that cold ripple crackle through my spine, bringing another flush of deeper fear, so intense I couldn’t think past it that time. Even so, I could tell.

  I could tell we were already too late.

  Even as I thought it, another voice boomed through the hollow space of the warehouse from behind us. That time, it caused all of us to turn, to stare into the darkness we’d just walked through to reach the cages. I felt my whole body tense as I watched a group of seers filing out of the narrow opening in the wall of storage crates, flowing out into the wider clearing like ants pouring out of a hole during an infestation.

  In the front walked a tall figure wearing all black, a traditional, Arabic robe.

  Even in the unfamiliar clothes and headgear, I recognized him. Well enough that my breath stopped, a choking sensation hitting me in the middle of my chest.

  It was Menlim.

  He wasn’t looking at me, though.

  He looked to my right, and I knew it was Revik he was staring at, long before I turned my head. Next to me, Revik’s light flared into seething, sparking life, a winding furnace of heat that turned into a tornado, raising the hair on my arms and head and neck, even as it occurred to me what he meant to do.

  Revik thought he could kill him now. He thought he could kill Menlim.

  Now that I’d detached him from Menlim’s construct, he really thought he could do it. Even as the realization struck, that Revik had known, that Revik had planned this... that deep voice boomed again.

  It was Menlim’s voice.

  The second time he spoke, I didn’t understand the words any more than I had the first time, but fear slammed my light, even before I felt the words hit Revik’s.

  “Isre l’ange si nedri az’lenm. Isre ti’a ali di’ suletuum...” His voice boomed, echoing strangely in the dark. “Isre l’ange si nedri az’lenm. Isre ti’a ali di’ suletuum... sala. Sala ‘ti. Sala ‘ti, mongare sa’... Alyson...”

  I felt Revik’s light shift, even as I turned my head.

  I stared at him, feeling that fear bloom into panic as his light sparked upwards, even higher into the Barrier than before, igniting every piece of his aleimi so swiftly it was like watching a fire on a gas main pour upwards into the darkness of night.

  His eyes ignited... and then he was looking at me.

  I knew, in that split second.

  I don’t know how I knew... but I did.

  He was going to kill me.

  He was going to kill me, and afterwards, he wouldn’t remember that he’d done it.

  In through the out door...

  I stared up at Revik’s face.

  Time stopped, in that bare breath between seconds.

  I saw the emptiness in his eyes, even beyond the pale green flames that flared brighter than I’d ever seen them, illuminating his features eerily in the dimmer light of the warehouse. I felt the part of me that ignited in response to the threat I felt, that sent my light high into those same structures in my own aleimi... but in that long-feeling stretch of no-time after Menlim first spoke those words, I could already feel it was too late.

  I’d be dead before I accessed those structures well enough to pull the trigger.

  As the thought filtered through my awareness, time slowed even more, long enough for a different thought to reverberate through my being, without slowing the reflex of my aleimi being ignited or that heightened edge in Revik’s light as we each responded to what we both perceived as a direct threat against our lives.

  Terian was right.

  Whatever else he’d done, bringing us here on this night, unraveling Revik’s and my bond so that we’d be even more determined to find him... lining us up to be slaughtered by Menlim... Terian was unquestionably right about one thing, at least.

  He’d warned me.

  He’d definitely war
ned me.

  JON FELT THE slam to his light, pretty much at the same instant he felt Wreg reacting to the same. It made him dizzy, nearly made him black out as it whited-out his vision. He might have fallen entirely if he hadn’t already been sitting in the sand.

  Most of the remaining members of their team stood and sat on the same stretch of dune as Jon, hunkered down past the furthest edges of the construct. By now, most were sitting directly on the sand like Jon, under organic structures that should hide their presence from any surveillance that might fly overhead, including satellites.

  They all wore camouflage as well, but only a few of those stood outside the tents.

  Jon was one of those. So was Wreg.

  Still, they knew there was a good chance their presence would be picked up out here eventually, so the main goal was to hide their numbers, and to do their best to resemble a caravan of refugees in the event they were seen.

  Since the Bedoin still lived in isolated pockets out here, refusing to settle in any one of the remaining Shadow cities or those independently-operated cities that still existed in this part of the world, their presence might not be seen as anything other than part of the landscape outside of the city walls. Given how their numbers were obscured by the organics, they certainly wouldn’t come across as any kind of threat.

  Truthfully, even if their full numbers were known, they still probably wouldn’t be much of a threat, given the security measures protecting Dubai City.

  Because of that same attempt at disguise, however, Jon wore a traditional robe and a turban, which had been surprisingly comfortable in the heat of the day, and still served multiple functions as the wind kicked up sand after dark.

  Now he found himself struggling with the unfamiliar clothing, fumbling for his gun as he rose back to his feet. He saw Wreg touch his headset as he did. He followed the Chinese seer with his eyes as Wreg moved out from under the lean-to they’d been sharing, presumably to get a better signal.

  “Adhipan.” Wreg growled the word as Jon followed him along the crest of the dune, turning his headset to the same channel. Jon heard Balidor’s voice right as he found the signal.

  “I felt it,” Balidor confirmed.

  “No shit,” Wreg snapped. “What the fuck was that?”

  “The Sword,” Balidor said simply. “His light just spiked off the grid.”

  “Where are they?” Jon said, cutting in.

  “The Waterfront,” Balidor responded.

  Wreg glanced at Jon, scowling.

  Jon understood the meaning of the look. He’d studied the maps along with the rest of them. Revik was all the way across the city, almost in a diagonal line from where they were stationed now, at the northeast edge of the Dubai’s main wall. Even if they managed to get through the checkpoint at record speed, they were at least an hour out from where Revik was.

  “Is Allie with him?” Jon said, turning his mind back to Balidor.

  “Unknown,” Balidor said. “Her light hasn’t hit the construct. If she’s with him, she’s still operating under the radar. In theory, at least.”

  “Or she’s incapacitated,” Wreg muttered.

  “Or she’s incapacitated,” Balidor agreed.

  “...And Menlim hacked his light,” Wreg added sourly.

  “We all knew it was a possibility, my brother,” Balidor said carefully.

  Even so, Jon felt the heaviness in the other’s words.

  “What does Yumi think?” Jon said.

  There was a silence. Then Balidor made a soft clicking sound through the transmitter, his voice turning even more grim.

  “You don’t want to know what Yumi thinks,” was all he said.

  “We can’t get to him?” Jon blurted.

  He glanced behind him, noticing only at that very moment that others were listening to them, that they’d begun to gather around Wreg and Jon as they spoke to the Adhipan leader. Jon saw Loki there, and also Argo, Ille, Tenzi and Oli. Fear rippled off their light as they picked up impressions from the conversation, and likely read between the lines of their actual words.

  Jon saw Kat standing there, too, a few yards away, her arms folded. He couldn’t help scowling at her a little, even though he felt the worry on her light.

  “No,” Balidor said, after a lengthy-feeling pause. “No, my brothers, I’m afraid we can’t. Get to him, that is. No one is near enough.”

  “So what the fuck are we supposed to do?” Wreg snapped. “Just stand here, holding our dicks, while Menlim takes them both out?”

  The line fell silent.

  In that silence, Jon felt seers consulting on the other end of the line. He also felt another sharper pulse of fear off Wreg’s light.

  When Balidor came back, he didn’t try to reassure them that time, either. “I honestly don’t know, my brothers. All you can do now is what Nenzi asked, and wait.”

  “Wait for what?” Wreg growled. “For Shadow’s troops to come collect us?”

  Balidor clicked softly. Jon could almost see him shaking his head through the line.

  “Wait to see if we need to enact the contingency,” Balidor said then. “The same one Nenzi told us to enact, if it looked like they wouldn’t be able to get out.”

  Jon didn’t move. Neither did Wreg.

  They both knew what Balidor meant.

  The carrier was equipped with nuclear missiles.

  The contingency Balidor referenced was the last-ditch one Revik gave them. The one where Revik told them to take out the entire city of Dubai, if it looked like Shadow was going to get him and Allie alive.

  Jon fought to think past this as a possibility, realizing how little he’d let himself think about it at the time, meaning during those actual planning sessions. Now he felt paralyzed by Balidor’s words. He could only stand there, numb, staring blankly around at faces as the other seers continued to gather around him and Wreg, as if they were waiting to be told what to do.

  Jon was still looking at nothing, when out of nowhere, something else clicked.

  Then he was scanning faces for real.

  When he couldn’t find the one he wanted, the frown returned to his face.

  “Where the hell’s Chan?” he said, still looking for her dark red eyes and slanted cheekbones and black braids from among the seers standing on the back of that high dune.

  Confused expressions crossed the nearest of those faces, presumably the ones who’d heard Jon say it. He watched others turn and look around at the seers standing next to them, as if they, too, were looking for those same distinctive features. But Jon never glimpsed Chandre’s dark skin and sculpted lips among them, nor did anyone else

  “Chandre!” Jon said, louder.

  When no one answered, Jon looked at Wreg, scowling.

  “Where the fuck is she?” he said.

  Seeing the blank look on Wreg’s face, Jon was about to direct his question to the rest of them a second time, when Loki pointedly cleared his throat.

  Jon swiveled his gaze, his hands on his hips.

  Loki’s complexion darkened, even as he made a noncommittal gesture with one hand. He glanced around at the seers staring at him and flushed more, gesturing again.

  “He told me not to say anything,” he said, as if that explained it.

  Looking at him, feeling his shoulders tighten where he stood, feeling Wreg’s light spark in understanding next to him... Jon found himself thinking that it probably did.

  Explain it, that is.

  CHANDRE CROUCHED AT the top of a pile of long, slatted crates.

  She had not been there for very long in objective time, but in subjective time, it felt very long indeed. Even so, she found herself thinking that if she had gotten here any later, it would have been too late to effect any difference at all.

  As it was, she might still be too late, given the circumstances.

  She held her breath as she watched the dark-clothed seers filtering through the maze of tunnels and narrow aisles between the stacked wooden and metal containers. She w
atched them make their way silently through those passageways, holding her thoughts as still as her body, perhaps even more still, considering where she was.

  The rifle never left her shoulder.

  She used the infrared scope, which was shielded through the organic casing that generated a Barrier field in addition to the physical one. It allowed her to use the electronic components, even in here. Without those, she wouldn’t have been able to see the warehouse floor, at least not in sufficient detail for her purposes.

  Her hands remained steady as she aimed the gun, but she pulled her eyes off that scope a few times to make sure she wasn’t missing any of the black-clad seers carrying automatic weapons as they stalked through those rows of crates.

  Due to the magnification of the infrared lens, she alternated between the two, trying to use both perspectives to obtain an accurate count.

  She couldn’t help but be impressed by the complete lack of footprint they left in the Barrier. Granted, she couldn’t use her own aleimi much, not down here, but she still would have thought she’d get a flicker of something from such a large group of seers, infiltrators or no.

  That could be an effect of the construct, too, of course.

  The boss had given her explicit instructions, but Chandre still couldn’t help feeling some relief––along with a ripple of near-fear––at how close things had gotten, in terms of her making it up to her perch before reinforcements had arrived.

  Truthfully, once she’d seen her own people approaching the warehouse with that Rook, she’d had to work hard to get ahead of them. She’d managed it in part by utilizing a side door she’d found and managed to crack using a de-encryption tool Dante made for the job. The fact that it worked, that it got her inside minutes before the double doors rolled open on the other end, was the only reason she was still in play at all.

  She still hadn’t had much time to reach a real vantage point before Terian led the Sword and Bridge through those rows of crates.

  The boss gave her access to a mobile construct, providing an elaborate set of Barrier key codes to access the same in the event of emergencies. If she desperately needed the intelligence, she could have risked using that, but really, it was meant to be a last resort, and only if the boss and the Bridge needed immediate extraction.