by T. C. Edge
At least, not until the last minute…
Because he’s out there still, I know he is.
Out there with a few of his cronies at least, and perhaps Commander Burns too. And he still commands thousands of Con-Cops and City Guards, and who knows how many Stalkers.
Cromwell, like a wounded beast, might well be at his most dangerous right now, seething and stewing and plotting his next move.
And though we may have had, as Rhoth said, ‘a great victory’ today, it’s only a single battle in a greater war.
And the war is far from over.
7
The main hall of the City Guard HQ is as a bland as I remember, a functional atrium with no decorative embellishments and intended as no more than a passageway to the various parts of the building.
Last time I came here, I was being interrogated by Agent Woolf up in her dungeon-like office in the Serious Crimes Unit, the black-eyed witch creeping into my mind in a bid to discover what I knew of Drum’s whereabouts after his disappearance from the convoy to the REEF. I didn’t know of Burns’ participation within the ranks of the Nameless then, of course, but it was he who saved the day, stopping Woolf before she could extract what she needed.
He saved the day, sure, but even back then Woolf was already onto me, her sharp gaze and sharper mind missing nothing. From my attempts to assassinate Cromwell, to our grander plan of catching him napping at the top of the High Tower, she’s become a professional scupperer of plots and plans; a veritable thorn in our side.
Were it not for her, countless lives could have been saved, and there may never have been a need for war.
And yet, as much as I despise her, I can’t deny her gifts and powers, and the loyalty with which she sees out her task. I suppose, like everyone else, there’s a deep-set programming in her horrible mind that means she’ll never stop until the job is done.
The building’s foyer, while featureless, is large, and capable of being used as a good base of operations. The rest of the building, too, can house many of us, with the decision taken to try to create our own temporary sleeping accommodations within the area, rather than utilising the very apartments designed for that specific purpose that line the streets a little further away.
Many of those, of course, are now free to use, once occupied by the Savants who weren’t deemed quite important enough to reside in the High Tower. Since most worked there, however, and were probably caught in the carnage as it fell, their homes are now free to use, as horrible as the thought is.
The thinking, though, is to take up residence within close proximity of the City Guard HQ among the official buildings and offices that line the right side of the main street. Just outside, the platform sits smouldering with the remains of the High Tower, a horrible and constant reminder of what we’ve done.
Yet, here in the centre we’re best defended should some sudden strike come our way, and within these official buildings, Lady Orlando will seek to develop some form of temporary wartime government to ensure the people continue to be fed and watered and taken care of.
Work, no doubt, will be suspended for all. While we occupy Inner Haven, many of the servants of Cromwell continue to occupy several of the districts of Outer Haven, with reports telling of City Guard units spread throughout the western and southern quarters, and large numbers of Con-Cops now controlling the east.
It’s a strange swap, really. We, the Nameless, complete with our hybrids and defectors and regular Unenhanced, have now taken refuge right at the heart of Cromwell’s inner sanctum, while his own soldiers have been forced beyond our new walls.
And the man himself? Well, debate will rage on among the masses, but few among our top members truly believe he’s breathed his last.
The night bustles past without any of us being able to stop and take a breath. As more of our men go out to check for further enemy patrols, and ensure that the gates and walls are fully secure and protected, others begin gathering intel from our scouts in the area.
Any surviving high profile members of Inner Haven, holding important posts in the various facets of government, are sought out too. Lady Orlando, setting herself up in the main office of the new Deputy Commander of the City Guard, Quentin Black – an office once held by Burns before he was promoted to the High Tower – immediately sets about the task of signalling her intentions to the remaining leaders of Inner Haven.
The intention is to get them onside, or at least explain her reasoning for what we’ve done. It will, I know, be a hard sell, given the burning mountain of stone and metal that festers outside our door, but the call for diplomacy will be an important one.
In the end, as people begin to learn of what Director Cromwell was really seeking to do, and are shown the vision of the future that he imagined, they might just come on board.
They need to see that, Enhanced or not, they were all just slaves of the Consortium. That Cromwell’s future was one that was going to further marginalise regular Enhanced and promote the Savants, even more than they already have been.
For the Outer Haveners, the task may not be so difficult. Already, they’re beginning to wake up to what Cromwell really is. When they discover that the Fanatics were nothing but a device of his own making to spread fear, and that the ‘optional reconditioning’ he offered in order to help them suppress their worries and live happier lives was intended only to make them his slaves, even the most obdurate and doubting among them will come around.
I have faith in the people I know so well, in the people I grew up with and around. I have faith that the grumblings I’ve heard here and there over the years will have grown louder, the people gathering to call out against the despot Cromwell has revealed himself to be.
When the people are given a choice – finally, given a choice – to forge their own futures or merely slide into the shadows of Cromwell’s, they will join us, join this revolution, help us change the world together.
At least, I hope they will…
I manage to get some sleep before the morning comes, huddled up in the quietest corner I can find down some lonely corridor. With so much going on, I find myself somewhat useless, and with a terminal exhaustion seeming to fill me, joined by a terminal grief at what I’ve seen, I stumble off in search of some solitude, and pass out in an old office, sat up against a pile of boxes and files.
On the way, I see yet another body slumped unceremoniously on the floor in a crimson puddle. Just another City Guard who found himself here as our men stormed in, perhaps nothing more than a clerk or administrator who could never have expected this building to be ransacked.
I pass my eyes over his body and see that his handgun remains fixed in its holster. He never even got a chance to defend himself before our gritty-eyed soldiers, seeking vengeance for years of hurt, saw the poor man to his grave.
The thought numbs me further.
Our men’s motivations are understandable. Yet, the City Guard themselves are not our real enemy. In fact, among the forces we face – the City Guards, the Con-Cops, the Stalkers - so few of them are truly out of line with what we’re trying to achieve.
The Stalkers, we know, are twisted beyond help, bred only to destroy those who stand in Cromwell’s way. It was he, in fact, who once headed up the Stalker Program, seeing it prosper as a younger man in a bid to hunt down the rebels and secret, illegal hybrids who began to join together against him.
The Con-Cops, too, have had their minds turned inside out. Once normal people, they’re now mindless, acting only on the new mental engineering they’ve been given. They, like the Stalkers, will never betray their master.
But the City Guards are different. They are normal men and women, people with feelings and emotions and the capacity to make decisions. Yes, they are Enhanced, but they bear a far greater resemblance to us than they do Cromwell and his lobotomised slaves.
Over the years, many have joined the cause, and many others have secretly sympathised with the Nameless and the fate of the many hybrids sent to
their deaths at the REEF. For normal people, it would be hard not to see the wrong in how this city has developed, how the Savants have taken control.
Now, we are here to give control back, spread it evenly among the Enhanced and Unenhanced, create a prosperous, fair city where all people have equal rights.
That is the message we need to spread.
I wake in that quiet corner by my own, natural means, scraping myself off the floor on aching bones. A faint rumble of noise continues to hover in the distance, back in the main hall, and I work my way straight back there to find the daylight spilling in through the large metal doors.
There’s a bustle and febrile energy to the place, so much to be done. As I wander through, rubbing my eyes at the bright, dusty light, Zander comes bobbing over.
“Ah, you’re up,” he says.
“Er, yeah…how did you know I was…”
“Sleeping? It’s our connection, sis. I came looking for you, found you in that little office. You looked exhausted so I let you rest and told no one to disturb you.”
“Thanks,” I smile. “That was sweet.”
He brushes it off with a wave of the hand.
“You feel better?”
“I guess, yeah. How about you…did you get any rest?”
“An hour maybe,” he says. “I spent most of the night dashing around the city, checking on our units. They’re spread around the perimeter walls and gates now. You know, I didn’t expect it to be so easy.”
“Does that worry you?” I ask quickly.
It does me.
He considers it.
“You know, maybe a bit. Nothing ever seems to come easy, so when something does, you tend to doubt it.” I’m nodding heartily. “Then again,” he continues, “it does make sense. Most of Cromwell’s forces were out fighting in Outer Haven. Those that were here were largely centred around the High Tower when it fell. We’re still getting an idea of how many men he’s lost, but it’s probably helped even out the numbers a fair bit.”
“And Cromwell himself? Any more news?”
He nods hastily, his words equally snappy.
“It’s been dripping in. I spoke with the scout who saw the Stalkers come out of the High Tower before it came down. He’s pretty convinced it was our esteemed Director making his getaway. I took a look into his mind to see for myself. Think I caught a glimpse of that ‘D’ on the chest of one of the people being escorted away, inside the city badge. Only the Director has it. The rest of the Consortium have ‘Cs’ instead.”
“Yeah…I know. So he’s alive. Definitely alive.”
The deflation in my voice is clear. My posture could probably do with a boost as well.
“Looks like it,” he mutters. “And there appeared to be about five others with him, one of them probably Burns. Another scout, one of Kira’s, says he saw the armoured vans heading through the western quarter as well. And then I spoke with Adryan, too, and he says a security technician saw the same from footage taken by one of our drones. It’s all pretty conclusive.”
I shake my head and bare my teeth. I knew this was coming, but hearing it, I want to slam my fist against something. Hard.
“You don’t sound too down about it,” I grumble, glancing through the open doors at the devastation outside.
So many thousands…so many…
He shrugs with more vigour than I’d expect given his woeful lack of sleep, and follows my gaze.
“No point in moping, Brie. The show goes on. Yesterday, we completely changed the landscape of this war, and there’s no going back for Cromwell now.”
“No going back, maybe. But he’ll come after us, you know he will.”
“He can goddamn try,” he bites. “I welcome it. I’ve half a mind to take a gang of my best men out there to hunt him down right now…”
“Zander…no.”
“Look, don’t worry, I’m not going to. We can expect him to have his best soldiers still with him, and there’s too much to do here anyway. In fact, Lady Orlando needs to see you. Come on, follow me…”
He turns abruptly on his heels and I follow behind, moving towards the bank of lifts lining the left of the atrium. The doors slide open as we come, and in we step, gliding towards the top floor of the building – level 15 - where the office of the Deputy Commander waits.
On the door, the name of Quentin Black has been printed, replacing that of Leyton Burns.
“He dead, you think?” I ask, referring to the new Deputy as we wander down the corridor.
“Nor sure,” answers Zander plainly. “We’ve heard rumours that he may be over in Outer Haven commanding his men. Cromwell will need someone on the ground, and since he probably knows all about Burns by now, Black will be the most senior member of the City Guard.”
I stop him outside the door.
“And we’re sure Burns has been found out? I mean, if it was Woolf who let Cromwell know about our plans, maybe Burns is still, you know, undercover.”
“It’s possible,” he concedes. “But regardless, we can’t get through to him now, and so can’t rely on him either.”
He steps straight through the door without knocking. I barely get a chance to blink before being forced to follow him in, my eyes taking in the basic and rather unstimulating space before me.
True to form for all Savants, the room is uncluttered, uncomplicated, and coloured chrome. I would say that Lady Orlando would feel right at home here, but knowing her as I now do, suspect she’d like the odd splash of colour here and there, as with her quarters at the church.
She sits behind a desk, and my mind turns immediately and instinctively to Mrs Carmichael. It often does around her, given her unexpected penchant for whiskey, and her general age and demeanour, which is similar to my guardian, despite their very different backgrounds.
Today, though, it’s the circumstance that has Brenda Carmichael surging into my mind. The room may be larger than her office at the academy, but the general arrangement is similar, with a desk right ahead and the Lady sitting behind.
And as always happens when I think of her, I think of the others as well. And now, all I want to do is go and find out how they are, and then bring them right here to safety.
As Lady Orlando welcomes me in, my old life is all over my mind. I barely hear her first few words, such is my distraction.
“Brie…Brie…” She needs to speak my name several times before she fully gathers my attention.
“Um, yes, Lady Orlando,” I finally manage, slipping out of my mind and back into the room.
She stares, analysing me. She’s good at it, strangely so for a Savant.
“You asked me yesterday if you could go into the city and take care of your friends,” she says, as if reading my mind. “I urged patience, but now I permit it…”
Her words hang for a moment. I wonder if I’m still back in my thoughts, daydreaming this.
“You…you will?” I ask, surprised.
She dips her head.
“We are well protected here right now, and it’s important that we show a united front. The inhabitants of Inner Haven will no doubt take some time to come to terms with what has happened here. That is natural, and something that will affect us all in some manner or another. However, we have done all of this in order to bring the city together, and that starts immediately.”
As she speaks, the door opens up behind me. I turn and see Kira entering, searching the interior as I did.
“You wanted to see me, Lady Orlando?” she asks, her gaze turning to the desk.
“Yes, yes, come in, Kira.”
She walks to the side of me, similar in size and shape, albeit a little sleeker and more athletic.
“I was just telling Brie of the united front we have to put on. She has friends, mostly young boys and girls, at her academy not too far from the western gate. Your scouts are reporting that the streets in the area are clear, is that correct?”
“Yes, my Lady,” says Kira. “There’s been little movement in the in
ner districts of the western quarter. Most of the fighting has settled there…”
“Good. Then you will accompany Brie to her academy and bring back her friends. It will help to show Inner Haven that we are here for the purposes of good and, unlike Artemis, do not discriminate. I am sanctioning similar trips for some of our other members. At times like this, we will all operate with more efficiency if those we care about are safe. Brie, I know full well how much you worry about your friends. Now, go fetch them…”
I’m welling up, and feel stupid. Blinking furiously to stop from embarrassing myself, I merely nod and firm my voice.
“Yes, I will, Lady Orlando,” I croak.
She smiles at me with thin lips well versed in performing the expression, and sends us from the room.
And when I turn, my own smile bursts, and joins the thudding of my heart.
Finally, I get to save my friends…
8
The first question that wanders quickly into my mind is whether Zander’s coming too. As I move down the corridor, accompanied by Kira, I turn and see that he hasn’t followed, and continues to speak with Lady Orlando in her new office.
“What’s up?” asks Kira.
“Oh…just…”
“You thought big bro was tagging along?”
“Well, yeah. And we’re twins, he’s not my big bro.”
“He’s physically bigger than you, Brie. Makes him big bro in my book.”
She grabs ahold of my arm and begins moving me on down the corridor.
“Come on, us girls don’t need any help, we get things done on our own, right?”
We step into the lift and the doors slide shut.
“Yeah, of course,” I say, probably less enthusiastically than Kira might. Then the second question rumbles to mind. “So, how are we getting there?”
“Van,” she tells me. “Our tech guys have been working all night, reprogramming the cars around here and setting them to manual drive, as well as removing the speeding limiters.”
“Good idea,” I say, thinking back to the excruciatingly slow top speed the self-drive cars are permitted to travel at along these streets. “So, you can drive, right?”
