Changing Tides

by Simone Anderson

  Finally, the group stopped, and he was pushed to his knees. He sensed the guards leaving him. Someone stepped up behind him, and he heard the sound of a gun cocking.

  “What’s going on?” Brett asked, swallowing as fear raced through him. He forced himself to stay absolutely still and to show as little reaction as possible. If they saw he was strong, perhaps they would let him go or at least not kill him.

  “Yes, he’s the one. He’s the one that brought me here.”

  Brett turned in the direction of the voice. Someone approached him, and the blindfold was removed. Brett blinked against the impossibly bright light. Slowly, he regained his vision. A dozen people filled the room, some standing and some sitting. All of them were looking at him. He recognized one of the men standing several feet from him. The man he’d left in the alley after he’d collapsed in the middle of the road on the way back to base. Tearing his gaze from the man, who nodded once to him, he peered around the room.

  Everything was gray. One of the walls had maps on it. Two of the walls had doors. Metal desks held computer monitors. Filing cabinets and unmarked boxes were pushed to the sides of the room. A large conference table with an assortment of chairs dominated the space. Everyone was armed.

  At the head of the table, just a few feet from where Brett knelt sat Orion. His man. Worry and stress lined the younger man’s face.

  “Kill him. He’s a government supporter,” someone said.

  “No, he saved the lives of Miller and Jackson.”

  “Put in him in a cell with the others,” someone said.

  “His life isn’t the real issue. We need to know why the raids happened the way they did, when they did.”

  “Few of our people were caught in this mess. The government is turning on its own.”

  Brett had stopped paying attention to who said what. He watched Orion. Suddenly, Orion’s brows furrowed, anger chasing away his worry. His warm brown eyes, ancient and expressive, turned cold.

  Brett held his breath, watching the transformation in the other man. He was no follower. He was a leader. Their leader. Orion slammed a hand on the table and jumped to his feet, his chair clattering as it fell over.

  “Enough!” he demanded, his voice was soft and raspy.

  Silence engulfed the room, until even the ticking of a clock somewhere was absurdly loud and out of place.

  Brett shuffled forward. The hard metal of a gun barrel pressed against the side of his head halted his progress. “Orion?”

  “Yes?” Orion asked, turning to him.

  “You…I…you…how…?” Brett stammered, disbelief and shock threatened to overwhelm him.

  Orion could talk.

  Chapter Four

  Orion slowly looked around the room, acknowledging each person before bringing his focus back to Brett.

  “Back off, Thompson,” he ground out to the man holding the gun on Brett.

  Orion knew what everyone was feeling, but his concern was with Brett. Would Brett still be interested in him now that he knew Orion wasn’t as helpless as he’d first appeared? Brett shuffled forward on his knees. Beside him, Thompson tensed but didn’t move.

  “How long?” Brett asked finally.

  “How long have I have been able to talk?” Orion asked.

  Brett nodded. Pain and disbelief swirling in the dark blue depths of his eyes.

  “Years.”

  “And you couldn’t tell me?”

  Orion shook his head. “No.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone.” The accusation came from his left, a dark-haired woman. Jennifer Carter. A former member of the Security Forces Special Assault Unit, she was now in charge of perimeter security here. Fifteen years his senior, she was also the daughter of his father’s best friend.

  “No,” he admitted. “It was for the best. And no one outside of this room will be told. No exceptions.”

  There was a chorus of “Yes, Sirs,” before he turned back to Brett. Orion wasn’t sure how to deal with the man. If he was wrong about Brett, then letting him go or even placing him anywhere near the other prisoners wasn’t an option. Not until the CFA’s mission was complete. Not until Aelland and her citizens were free once more. His heart ached at the thought of Brett as his enemy, of never seeing him the same way again. He felt no guilt about deceiving Brett. His duty was to his parents and their dream. He’d made it his own and seeing it fulfilled had taken precedence over what he allowed or wanted for himself. Any guilt had been ruthlessly squashed and never acknowledged. Not until now. Now, there was no ignoring the emotion or his feelings for Brett. Orion gazed into Brett’s deep blue eyes. The look of betrayal he saw there was heartbreaking.

  “I promise we’ll talk about it later,” Orion said, bending over to kiss the older man, only to have him turn away.

  “What about the raids?” someone asked.

  Orion released Brett and turned back to the table surrounded by the people who would lead the downfall of the current regime.

  “You’re the Citizens for a Free Aelland, aren’t you?” Brett asked from where he knelt.

  Orion nodded.

  “He can’t be let go.”

  “He needs to die.”

  “Throw him in a cell!”

  “Enough!” Orion exclaimed. “I will deal with him after we figure out the meaning behind the government’s raids.”

  There was more shouting and talking, each person offering up their own ideas. Orion sat down in the chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. Something brushed his leg. Orion looked down and ran a hand through Brett’s hair. The man had inched forward until he was leaning up against Orion. There were rules in place, rules to be followed, that had ensured the anonymity of the organization and the people involved. Rules were rules, he knew this, but it still didn’t feel right to have Brett bound and kneeling at his feet.

  “What is it, Orion?” Brett asked. “These raids you’re talking about… Mine wasn’t the only place being tossed?”

  Orion shook his head.

  “We’re getting reports that it’s happening at bases throughout the country,” Carter said firmly.

  “Can I see the lists? At least, the one for my base?” Brett asked.

  Orion nodded.

  “It’s not complete. It could be days before we know the names of everyone involved,” Carter replied, handing over a sheet of paper from the stack in front of her.

  Orion held it out so Brett could see. The man’s face paled, and his body stiffened. He knew something they didn’t. Would he tell them willingly? Would he side with them or with the government? Orion bit the inside of his cheek, unwilling to let anyone know how much Brett’s words and decision would affect him.

  “Well?” Orion asked, the word coming out harsher than he meant it to.

  “There is no mistake?” Brett asked, looking up at him.

  Orion turned to the table.

  “No,” Carter replied.

  “Does it mean anything to you?” Orion asked. Why was Brett’s name on there? He knew about Brett saving Jackson’s life. Miller had told Orion about it when Orion had run into him the night Miller’s boyfriend had proposed. Jonah Miller was one of several people who passed information to and from Orion.

  “I don’t recognize most of the names on this list, but the ones I do recognize are all people who have questioned decisions made at the capitol or at base level or have made suggestions on the direction to take projects or investigations that don’t follow with what a superior officer has suggested,” Brett answered.

  “Why are you on this list?” Orion asked, grabbing the armrest.

  “I was in charge of my unit’s investigation into the video release. My suggestions didn’t align with my superior’s or what was eventually sent down from Homeland Security at the capitol.”

  “So they’re getting rid of anyone who questions them?”

  “I think so, yes,” Brett said quietly. “I—”

  “Help him to his feet, and br
ing a chair for him to sit on,” Orion ordered. Thompson helped Brett to his feet. Orion stood and held onto Brett as blood and feeling returned to the other man’s limbs. A chair was produced, and Thompson resumed his stance behind Brett, his gun holstered but not secured.

  Beside Orion, Brett’s eyes glassed over as he obviously warred with his own emotions and beliefs. Orion turned to the group, and they began to plan their next moves. The long-practiced habit of silence had Orion listening, taking notes occasionally and responding rarely. The government was using the video as a cover story for removing a large number of people at once. Sentiments were growing against the government as more and more people were unable to reach loved ones in the institutions.

  “We need to start pushing our agenda forward.”

  The comment drew Orion from his thoughts. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands. “We need to bring down this tyrannical regime now,” he said. “People are stirring. They are questioning. If we strike now, the momentum will carry us to victory.”

  “It would,” several people agreed.

  “If we can get the international community to back us, maybe, we can get more weapons from them,” Carter stated.

  “It’s possible,” someone else answered. “But how do we ensure their backing?”

  Orion shook his head. “There will never be irrefutable, unconditional international help. We can’t depend on them.”

  “Agreed, but the information I’ve been able to get suggests that they are against inhumane actions. So, maybe we just need to keep highlighting everything that has been and is being done to our people.”

  Orion looked at the speaker. An older man with graying hair, Paul Moore, was one of their experts in communications. He took pride in being able to gather information from unregulated, non-governmental resources. He’d spent time in prison for it years ago. The experience had left him without a family, more than a little bitter and completely distrustful of any government officials.

  “I like that idea. Bringing it to light for the international community will also bring it to a point that even the staunchest supporters of General Landry and her regime will be forced to admit there are problems,” Carter said.

  Orion listened to the discussion, ideas building off one another before a course of action was agreed on. He didn’t share Carter’s optimism. The most he would hope for was that it got people thinking and kept the momentum going. They would need the people’s support in order to overthrow the dictator and establish a new government. Orion rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the muscles. How many people would they lose trying to regain their country? Would any of them turn against the CFA? He trusted the people in this room implicitly, but what if he made a mistake? And there was Brett. Brett’s actions alone insured that his life could be spared, but without swearing less than his life to their course of action, nobody here would trust him or let him out of their sight for any reason.

  Orion was aware of people getting up. Conversations gradually changed to more mundane topics such as family and future plans, intermingled with ideas of where to go from here.

  “Brett?” Orion asked as silence once again reigned. He would much rather talk to Brett in the privacy of his quarters, but he couldn’t take him anywhere until he knew where the man’s loyalty stood.

  Brett looked up at him. “Yes?”

  “I need to know your thoughts,” Orion said, laying a hand on Brett’s arm.

  “I-I thought I was helping. They’re treating me like I’m a traitor or a criminal or something. I—” Brett looked down, disbelief washing over him.

  “I know. Sweetheart,” Orion said, softening his voice and grabbing Brett’s hands, “I have to ask you a question.”

  “Okay. About what?” Brett asked, drawing out the syllables. He looked around the room before focusing back on Orion. “You need to know if I can be trusted, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I—We need to know if you are with us or if you’ll continue to support the government.”

  “I… That video, was that real? The story wasn’t made up?”

  “No, it wasn’t made up,” Orion said softly.

  “I-I didn’t know. How…can I have time to think about it?” Brett asked.

  “You need to think about it?” Moore asked, indignant.

  “I…I…”

  “You’re in shock, and you’re exhausted,” Orion answered. “We can give you until morning.”

  “Will you kill me?”

  “You saved our friends and intervened on my behalf several times, so no, you will not die by our hands. But you will not be allowed to go free,” Orion said, anger surging through him. He understood Brett’s hesitation. He understood where the other man was coming from, but it still hurt that Brett wanted to think about it, that he needed time.

  “Will you—”

  “I will see you in the morning. Not before.” Orion stood and pulled Brett to him, hugging him close. “Sleep. Take time to make the decision you can live with.”

  “I—”

  “No, you get until morning,” Orion said, interrupting him again. “Blindfold him and take him back to his cell.”

  “Will you do it?” Brett asked, looking down at him. Fear and worry swirled in his blue eyes.

  Orion nodded. “Turn and kneel. Leave this on until morning.”

  Brett did as Orion asked. Holding his breath, Orion blindfolded the other man and kissed him on the top of the head. He stepped back and squeezed his eyes shut. Opening them, he nodded, and Thompson and another man helped Brett to his feet. Carter stood beside Orion.

  “You care about him.”

  It was a statement, one Orion didn’t bother to deny. Her words were quiet, so only those closest to them heard.

  “I’ll see that he gets food and a place to sleep,” she said.

  Orion nodded his gratitude, watching as Brett was led away from him then he returned to his quarters. It would be a long, sleepless night for both of them.

  * * * *

  Brett tossed and turned on the bed. There was a mattress on some sort of a raised platform. It qualified as a bed even if he couldn’t see it. He’d been taken to a cell and his hands had been cuffed in front of him, sending shockwaves of pain through the muscles. A tray had been placed on the bed next to him, and the door closed. He’d gratefully eaten the food that had been bland but filling, before trying to sleep.

  He’d slept.

  Badly.

  Body aching, he lay on his back and opened his eyes. The world was still black. He’d hoped the blindfold would have worked its way off during the night. It hadn’t. Carefully, he sat up, straining to hear anything. The air had a musty smell as though the place were underground or closed off and had been for some time. He heard the muffled sounds of life from beyond the walls confining him. There was no way to tell how long he’d been sleeping.

  “Hello?”

  The whispered word echoed back to him.

  He was alone. Again. Still.

  Orion was nearby, he knew that. Possibly others he knew. But Orion wasn’t who he’d thought he was. He was part of the Citizens for a Free Aelland. A terrorist group. Unless one listened to what they had said. Brett had. Or he’d tried to. He’d tried to listen to what people were saying while trying to process the fact that his government, his own supervisors had turned against him. Did the general know when Brett had been there to talk to him? Or earlier in the day when he’d gave his report?

  Brett sat on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands. He had two options. For or against. Orion or a government and family that would not forgive him. He didn’t love Orion. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He couldn’t make this decision solely based on how he felt about Orion. As the younger man had said, Brett had to live with his decision. Could he continue to support a government willing to kill the helpless and those who questioned or sought to do things a better way? He couldn’t. Not and remain who he was. Who he wanted to be. Who Taren had thought him
to be. Who he had been with Orion.

  His death warrant had been sealed when he’d run from the security forces instead of turning himself like a good solider and citizen. Still, there was no way this small terrorist group could defeat government forces. If he was caught with them, he would be killed. There would be no trial, just his name on the list with other traitors. Death either way.

  “Prisoner, stand.” The voice boomed, reverberating throughout the room.

  Brett winced at the too loud sound and stood.

  He followed the directions, telling him to turn to the left, to walk straight ahead, to stop. His cuffs were disconnected, setting off another firestorm of pain. He turned, and his arms were re-secured behind his back. He was turned again. Arms grabbed him and half-pushed, half-guided him through a maze of corridors.

  “Are you taking me to see Orion? Hellman?” Brett asked, trying to make sense of where they were and if they were heading back to where he’d last seen his man.

  “Move.” The single command was accompanied by a rough shove forward.

  Brett stumbled before another set of arms helped him regain his balance. Unable to see where they were going, he could only hope they were taking him back to see Orion. The man had given his word that they wouldn’t kill him. The man needed his decision. Orion wasn’t the ignorant, helpless man the general called “boy” and the government would have sent to the institute. The man who people, including Brett’s own family, thought wasn’t able to make decisions on his own. Orion was held in high respect amongst this group of people. He was a leader.

  Brett bit the inside of his cheek. Could he handle that? He was alive and hadn’t been harmed because Orion had said so. Would that last? What happened if he and Orion couldn’t make it work? Would he regret his decision? Having no choice but to trust his wellbeing to his guards, he allowed the multitude of questions to wash over him.

  “Kneel.”

  The order pulled Brett from his thoughts. He dropped to his knees. Straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders, he refused to show weakness.