by T. C. Edge
“Then why the hell does is feel like we’re invading it? We’ve just destroyed half the damn city. We’re hardly saving it, Adryan.”
“OK, OK, cool those tongues, children,” comes Rhoth’s voice. “No need to wake sleeping men. Mr Savant should take this information to your leader. There is no time for lovers to argue now.”
“Lovers,” I huff. “Hardly.”
Adryan glares at me and shakes his head, before standing sharply and moving off. The entire episode is greeted by the soundtrack of Rhoth’s gurgling laughter.
“Ah, to be young and in love,” he chuckles.
“In love? I’ve got no time for love. I don’t want it either.”
He keeps laughing as he speaks.
“You two are so strange. All these Savants are meant to have no emotion. But this Adryan boy…I see it all over his face. And you, Brie, are part Savant, but you’re the most emotional girl I’ve ever met! Our tribal girls are more like Savants than you.”
His laughter grows, a strange irony given how he just told us to keep it down for being too loud. It rumbles around the chamber and I see some of his hunters roll their eyes at the sight. I suspect he enjoys teasing and taunting people as one of his pastimes.
It gets to the point, though, that my ire is assuaged, the image of the chuckling beast enough to lighten the situation a bit. I even laugh myself, a rare reminder that such things happen so infrequently now.
“All right, all right, Rhoth, you’ve had your fun. I take your point. I need to lighten up.”
“Yes, that’s the phrase. Lighten up. Don’t take it all so seriously.”
I find the suggestion odd from a man like him. And at a time like this.
“Noted,” is all I say.
And then I fall silent.
4
The newly lit mood of mine, naturally, doesn’t last too long. A few minutes after Adryan disappears into Lady Orlando’s chambers, he reappears and calls me in.
I leave Rhoth, still with a smile on his face that suggests he gets a rather perverse enjoyment out of all of this, and head straight for the door. I pass by Adryan in a rather frosty manner as he heads off towards the sleeping quarters of the church, away to the left.
He appears again shortly after with the rest of the strike force assembled once more, their allowance of sleep cut short by the latest news. They got about an hour or so. To a man, they look like they could do with a couple dozen more.
We gather in the room and shut the door. The time is rushing quickly towards 10 PM, D-day only a matter of hours away.
“Troubling news, ladies and gentlemen,” starts Lady Orlando, trying to stay cool. “We’ve heard from Inner Haven. It looks as though Artemis might have escaped before the tower fell.”
A stunned silence swamps us. Actually, it’s more one of total deflation, rather than shock. As if we all knew this might happen, and were just waiting for the bad news.
“I knew it,” whispers Rycard. “That snake slithered away…”
“It changes nothing,” booms Beckett’s voice. “We continue with the plan. We take Inner Haven.”
“Hang on, hang on,” says Kira, the green-eyed, red-haired, multi-Enhanced spy adding her smooth voice to the room. “We should talk about this a little before jumping in, right?” She looks around the room and sees little agreement. “No? Just me. OK then…”
“Kira, Beckett is right,” says Lady Orlando. “If what we’ve heard is accurate, it seems Artemis was secreted away, along with a few other members of the Consortium, by a troop of his Stalkers just before the tower fell. Others – many others – were caught in the blast and killed. Artemis will have been taken somewhere safe and secure, and that probably means outside of the city. He may not be dead – not yet, anyway - but much of what we planned for is still in operation. There can be no doubt that he learned of the plot at the final minute, too late to save all of the Consortium and other high-ranking officials in the High Tower…”
“We also faced very limited opposition in the underlands beneath the structure,” adds Zander, coming back to life. “They only came right before it blew. If they’d had any further warning, we’d have been caught in the act and surrounded.”
“We had secrecy, that much is clear. At least until the last minute,” says Beckett. “Whatever happens from now, Cromwell, if he is alive, has lost most of his top brass, as well as all of the residents of the High Tower. They were to be the core of his new world, and are now gone. He is a leader with no one to lead. We have defeated him regardless.”
Heads nod. Whispers of agreement shiver through the room. I find myself agreeing too, something I perhaps wouldn’t expect. Whatever happens from now, surely Cromwell’s plans are scuppered?
“And Commander Burns?” asks Zander. “Was he in the High Tower when it fell?”
“No,” I say. “I heard him in my head…”
“Are you sure, Brie?” asks my brother sharply. “You’re tired. You’ve been through a lot. Are you absolutely sure you heard him?”
I’m not, not a hundred per cent. Perhaps eighty…seventy-five…I don’t know.
I nod anyway.
“I’m sure.”
“Then if that’s true,” says Beckett, “it’s quite possible that Burns leaving the High Tower is precisely what alerted Cromwell to its downfall. He’d have made sure that all Consortium members were on lockdown. If Burns tried to sneak out, perhaps he was caught. It could be that he was one of the people being secreted away by the Stalkers.”
“Sounds about right,” says Kira.
Rycard and Freya nod.
“Hmmmm, that’s a loss,” muses Lady Orlando. “Leyton was a key cog in the plan, as he has been all along. He keeps missing the plays.”
“Yeah, and it’s probably Woolf’s fault…” I grumble quietly.
“Woolf?” asks Kira.
Her keen ears caught my voice. All eyes swing to me.
“Well, maybe,” I say, shrugging. “Like Beckett said, it could have been Burns himself who led to Cromwell finding out about the plan. Or…you know, maybe it was Woolf. Adryan told me that no one’s found her yet. She might have got back to the city and sent word of the plot…”
All eyes switch to Adryan.
“True,” he says. “Our people at the northern and western gates haven’t seen her.”
“And when were you last in contact with them?” quizzes Beckett fiercely.
Adryan swallows.
“The team at the northern gate, half an hour or so ago.”
“And the west?” glares Beckett.
Adryan delays. He must have realised this was coming.
“Several hours,” he admits. “Before…before the tower went down.”
“Goddammit,” shouts Beckett, pacing off around the room.
I look to see Zander’s hazel eyes turning to slits. And it’s not because he’s tired.
“Beckett, calm down,” says Lady Orlando. “We’ll have time for cursing later, and when we do find Agent Woolf, we’ll make her pay. But right now, how Artemis found out is entirely irrelevant. We need to keep our eye on the prize here, and continue with our own plan. We take Inner Haven, give sanctuary to those who support us, and bring the people together. Yes, this is an unfortunate turn of events, but wars never go without a few hiccups. We will prevail, in time. We need to stay focused, and stay strong. Can you all do that?”
Collectively, we commit to agree. Beckett even apologises for his outburst.
“Good,” continues the Lady of the Nameless. “Now, the clock is ticking, and the city is waiting. Make your final preparations and get ready to march. Beckett, Zander, Marler, head to the eastern quarter when you’re ready, sneak back into Inner Haven, and make sure the northern gates are open. The rest of us will work through the northern quarter with our full strength. Adryan, where are we on that?”
“Getting there, Lady Orlando. Our people are moving to their appropriate positions in district two of the north. With the Con-Co
ps heading east, they’re seeing less resistance.”
“Good. We all know the plan. Enough talking now. Let’s get to it.”
The clock continues to rattle along, seconds ticking at twice their normal speed. Within only a few minutes, our mini covert team of Beckett, Zander, and Marler are preparing to step back into the city, using one of the only tunnels to the north that remains undiscovered and un-collapsed.
Zander leaves me with a few words of support, as he always does.
“Keep Lady Orlando safe, Brie,” he says. “Rhoth told me how great you were on the journey to the mines. Do the same here, OK. And be prepared for conflict.”
He bends down and kisses my forehead as Beckett calls for him to hurry. Then, the three super-hybrids head straight off into the night, leaving me amid the now bustling church.
It seems that all are preparing to clear out, the church set to be almost fully abandoned. It has served its purpose for years now, building to this point. Soon enough, the Nameless will be seeing a significant upgrade. An old derelict church and town, to the centre of the city of Haven. Not bad.
I spend a bit of time gathering my things and making sure my armour and weaponry are fully operational. I’m still getting used to the different settings on my pulse rifle, something that Kira helps me with.
Noticing me fumble about, she darts over with her sharp green eyes and flowing red hair, seemingly less affected by a lack of sleep than the rest. There’s a boundless energy to her, and a little smile painted across her lips, as if she was born for all of this.
“Here,” she says, scooping up the rifle. “Let me…”
She sets about giving me a crash course on the various functions of the weapon. Mostly, it’s about turning the dial to ensure that the round of energy spat out of the end of it is suitable for the intended purpose, whether that’s simply knocking someone out cold or cutting a hole right through their body.
There are settings, too, for energy blasts intended for disabling vehicles and other electronic equipment, as well as those capable of wreaking terrible carnage to buildings, walls, and more sturdy objects.
The only thing I can’t figure out is why some rifles shoot blue energy, and others shoot green or red.
“Status,” says Kira, “or something like that. I think the red ones are used by the Stalkers mostly. Green for the Con-Cops. Blue for the City Guard.”
“Right, kinda makes sense. What colour’s yours?”
“This one,” says Kira, lifting her weapon, “is a blue. Like yours. Others have red or green. Just depends on who we scavenged them from really.”
“Here’s a hunch,” I say. “Beckett’s got a red one? Am I right?”
She smiles, revealing sparkly white teeth.
“Nice call. He’s used the same one for years. Took it off a Stalker in a pretty awesome battle. I saw it myself.”
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that! What about yours? You snatch it off some badass City Guard or something?”
“Badass City Guard? No such thing, Brie! I mean, come on, single Enhanced? Pfff. We’re hybrids. A normal Enhanced ain’t got nothing on us!”
She lifts her eyes and they flash a brighter shade of green. I can’t quite tell if she’s being sarcastic or not.
Still, her comment wasn’t missed by Freya, sitting nearby and polishing her minigun. Being only part Brute, she might well take such comments as insults.
Kira sees her watching too.
“Ooops,” she whispers, smiling at me. “Just joking, Freya…in case you were listening,” she calls out.
“I wasn’t,” growls the white haired half-Brute.
She clearly was.
The levity of the conversation is slightly out of place, though. Kira just seems like the type to make light of things, experienced as she is with all of this. Unlike me, new to the game and constantly worrying.
I look at her and see someone to admire, to emulate. Even someone as young as she is.
“How old are you, by the way?” I ask her. “That’s not rude, is it? I never know…”
“Come on, Brie, we’re about to march to war and you’re worrying about being rude asking my age?! It must be so busy up there in that head of yours,” she grins.
“Yup…too busy.”
“I’m 22, though. You’re what, 18, like your bro? Must be…twins,” she says to herself.
“Yeah, 19 soon enough. So you’ve been through all this stuff a fair bit, right? How long have you been with the Nameless?”
“Hmmmm, good question. It’s been so long I can barely remember.” She thinks for a moment. “Joined over ten years ago now. It was always in my blood.”
“Wow, that long.” No wonder none of this fazes her. “So your parents were both hybrids, right? Were they part of the Nameless too?”
“Yeah,” she says. For the first time, that smile slips. “They, um, were killed…”
I go quiet for a second.
“Sorry. I…I suppose that’s common for people like us.”
The smile reappears. It seems a little forced this time.
“Yeah, all part of the gig. I don’t really worry about death anymore. No point, not when you see people you care about die so often.”
“I wish I could be the same.”
“No, you don’t,” she informs me, zeroing in with those penetrative green irises. “To be the same, you’ve gotta see a lot of people die. You don’t want that, trust me. You don’t want that at all…”
“I guess I might not have a choice in the matter,” I say, thinking again of my friends.
“None of us do. But we do what we can, Brie. Now come on, our job is to help protect Lady Orlando. Let’s get our heads back in the game.”
She switches back to her warrior persona, her eyes narrowing and turning a darker shade of jade. That smile of hers slides back into neutral, and together we move towards the main entrance to the hall, where our full force here at Nameless HQ are gathering.
All will leave now, aside from a few of the technicians who will continue to operate from here and keep a lookout over the city. Adryan, to my relief, will be staying with them, along with the Fangs and Rhoth who will hold down the fort.
As everyone gathers, I quickly go to Adryan and pull him into a dark corner of the hall, around the side of a pillar and into an alcove where we can get some measure of privacy.
The slight frost that’s developed between us thaws immediately without the need for words. I grab his cheeks and pull him towards my lips, dragging his athletic frame down to mine, all decked out in armour.
The kiss is brief, but somehow needed. I find that it serves to give me strength, a necessary component of our partings, which have grown more regular.
Part of me wants more. Part of me wants to stay in this little alcove and leave my lips on his for a while longer. Part of me…part of me wants a lot more than that.
But that part of me won’t get what it wants. It is the part that still sees all of this as being real, part of a regular life. The part that still harbours some hope that everything will return to normal soon, and perhaps I’ll be able to properly explore just what the hell this is between my fake husband and me.
I cling to that part, because I need to. It helps to give me balance at a time when I might just topple over. The transition to becoming a soldier, a warrior, a killer…it isn’t easy. And standing here, kissing Adryan without the need for words, all helps to straighten me out.
But it doesn’t last. Of course it doesn’t. It’s just a tiny bit of respite as the world crumbles and burns, a personal need that gives me some pleasure amid the pain.
I kiss him, and then leave him. And that’s that.
No words, no smiles or hugs. Nothing. Just a kiss, and I’m gone.
Marching off to war.
5
We travel as a group of about twenty, most of us soldiers.
There are, however, a couple of Lady Orlando’s older advisors with us who decided to stay with h
er rather than retreat to the mines. I’ve seen them around and about without ever being introduced, and simply know them as the sort of wise old sages to lend support to our main leader.
Both are men with grey hair and crooked backs, usually dressed in more ceremonial attire – at least when compared to the rest of the Nameless – rather than the rugged clothing and military fatigues that adorn the rest of us (although, right now, they’re wearing body armour as protection). They’re the type who might just slow our step, but who are clearly close enough to our leader to be deemed worthy of the journey.
I suppose Lady Orlando recognises the need for other people’s opinions. Taking the ‘Cromwellian’ route and becoming a despot isn’t exactly the sort of path to engender trust among the people, and having these two old gents, as well as military commanders like Beckett, on board to give counsel is a fairly wise choice.
So far, while she’s had the final say, she’s always seemed to welcome other voices to the party before choosing which path to take. And when it comes to it, if she wants to get the whole of Inner, and Outer, Haven onside, she’ll need to show that she’s someone who will be a woman for the people, not above them as Cromwell made himself clear to be.
With that in mind, I assume that these two old advisors are regular Unenhanced, spokespeople for Outer Haven as Burns was supposed to be for Inner Haven. The plan was most likely to show a collective front, including all people from all parts of the city, standing together in union, displaying a vision of the future.
Quite unlike the Consortium, rarely even venturing beyond the summit of the High Tower, Lady Orlando will show what a true leader, a true ruler, should be. And you know, I’m beginning to see her as one, despite the terrible atrocity she so recently green lit.
Sometimes, I guess, you’ve got to betray your own humanity in order to save it. And now, in a city that was built to raise the Savants up onto the shoulders of the masses, there are so few of them left.
