by J. L. Lyon
“If so, you forget: I was born in the fire. A child of the Wilderness, never more than a few steps from starvation, from the beginning I was acquainted with death. Out there, without access to medical supplies, my mother died in childbirth. Had I been born only a year before, the issues that led to her death would only have been minor complications. I, along with your children and—for some of you—your children’s children, scrounged around in the muck and sometimes went days without food, all so we could live free of a government that wanted to enslave us.
“Fifteen years ago when Jonathan Charity was killed and the Silent Thunder dome compromised, the rebellion split and fled to the Wilderness. You saw the approaching darkness and hid, leaving those we had sworn to protect in the open to be retaken by Napoleon Alexander. When I learned this—when my father told me how close we had been—you can imagine my disappointment. My anger. My confusion. It meant that I could have had another life. A better life. But that life was taken from me, not just by Napoleon Alexander and his soldiers, but by you. By your inaction. By your cowardice.”
She paused to look each commander in the eye. They did not appear happy to be called cowards, but neither did they object. That means they believe it, she thought. They know they made a mistake. Now I just need to convince them not to make it again.
“I am your legacy. By rights this war should be over, but here I am, trying to hold you together so we can keep on fighting it. And here you are, after the loss of another great leader, ready to flee again—ready to make the very same mistake and squander your second chance.
“What’s done is done. We can’t go back and rewrite history. All we have is now, and the question of whether or not you will abandon your oaths again. Should you do so, and return to the Wilderness, you will live out the rest of your days in sorrow and regret. There you will grow old and gray, until you can no longer even hold a Spectral Gladius, forced to watch as your children starve. As they die from exposure. As your sons are gunned down and your daughters sold into slavery. And all the while you will know that in this moment you could have changed all of that…but because of fear, you chose not to. You chose their suffering.
“There is a better option. We have the World System off-balance, and we are poised to deliver a blow so hard that it will shake the very foundations of this city. But I need you—all of you—if we are to have any chance of pulling it off. You followed my father. You trusted him. I’m not asking that you trust me…only that you trust him a little longer.
“Gentlemen, I do not want to look my children in the eyes and tell them that we squandered their chances for freedom. I would rather tell them that we fought valiantly…that we gave it all we had. This is our chance to do something that matters.
“Don’t fight for me. Don’t even fight for yourselves. Fight for the land that you watched crumble into dust. Fight for the children that suffer in the Wilderness. Fight for the slaves with no other hope of freedom. Fight for honor. Fight for vengeance. Fight for your redemption. Whatever your reasons for coming here, they can’t all have died with my father.
“Napoleon Alexander believes us defeated. Don’t let him be right.”
7
“SO LET’S REVIEW,” ADMIRAL McCall said with amusement as he led the way down the halls of the Crown Section. “You blasted out of the docking bay, chased Aurora to a rogue convoy, infiltrated the most powerful ship in the world, destroyed their element of surprise, thwarted their attempt to siege Alexandria, and then fought your way back to safety through an army of men. That about sum up your morning, gentlemen?”
Derek opened his mouth and then closed it quickly, looking to his partner for support.
301 shook his head, “You make it sound a lot more heroic than it really was, Admiral. We just did what we knew had to be done.”
“Not quite what I was thinking,” Derek said. “You left out the part where we climbed up the hull of largest ship in the world. My idea, by the way.”
“Apologies, Blaine,” McCall grinned. “I’ll add that to the list next time. In any case, the World System owes you a debt of gratitude. Infallible and five of her escorts escaped, it is true, but if not for your valiant efforts Alexandria might now be under Sullivan’s control. I will be petitioning the MWR for a commendation honoring the both of you.”
“Thank you, sir,” 301 said.
“I take it that’s not why we’re here, then,” Derek said.
“No,” the admiral replied. “The last two days have been relatively quiet, but we’re about to pay dearly for that. Sullivan is a grave threat, but he is not the only one that remains. The MWR will tell us more.”
The golden doors loomed before them, and the group of soldiers standing guard pushed them open as they approached. Alexander stood with his back turned, much as he had the day 301 had first met him, staring out the window at the Alexandrian skyline. Three plumes of smoke rose in the distance, evidence that not all of Sullivan’s people had escaped unscathed.
As the three of them waited at attention in front of the MWR’s desk, 301 noticed—to his chagrin—that Grand Admiral Donalson was already there, his face flushed with anger and shame. 301 had heard about the Detriment upon his return to the Spire. Donalson had nearly been killed along with the crew. Ironic, 301 thought. The snakes always seem to survive.
“Welcome, Specters,” the MWR spoke but kept his back to them. “We have much to discuss. Your actions in the Chesapeake are among the greatest accomplishments that any soldier has ever achieved in the World System. Unfortunately, we do not have time to celebrate.”
Alexander turned from the window and leaned over his desk, his two clenched fists bearing down upon the wooden frame, “As you have no doubt surmised, the Ruling Council has betrayed us. All of our assets in the Eastern Hemisphere have gone dark, which means we have effectively lost half our domain—more than half, if you consider the Tripartite. It is clear from today’s events that Sullivan will not be happy with what he has already taken. He wants it all. Soon we will be at war…and it will be like nothing we have seen since the Persian Resurgence. But we must see to other matters first. Grand Admiral?”
Donalson stepped forward but did not join the rest of them, as though to get too near the Specters might expose him to an infectious disease, “Last night the rebellion hit another one of our facilities. It was much quieter than the Weapons Manufacturing Facility, and a mere pinprick compared to the betrayal of the Ruling Council, but it suggests they are still organized. They are not running back to the Wilderness in the wake of Sawyer’s death as we hoped.”
“Which in light of recent events presents a very serious problem,” Alexander said. “We can’t contend with the Ruling Council while Silent Thunder assaults us from within. We must eliminate the rebellion before Sullivan’s forces can regroup to come at us again. To that end, I am empowering the grand admiral to use his unique talents to smoke them out.”
Derek broke protocol and took a step toward the MWR’s desk, “Mighty World Ruler, please. I beg you to reconsider.”
“I’ve already made my considerations, Specter Blaine,” Alexander replied. “The grand admiral produced extraordinary results in Rome, but thus far I have held him back because I hoped to spare the capital from his methods. That ends today. Silent Thunder has proven they can survive without Jacob Sawyer. It’s time to escalate the conflict.”
“But the death toll will be catastrophic,” 301 said. “It will do nothing but destabilize the city and inflame the population against us.”
“That is the purpose of a purge, Specter Captain,” Alexander tapped his fingers absently on the desk. “You single out the parts that are not worthy of the whole and burn them away. But a controlled burn, Grand Admiral. I’m quite proud of this city and would hate to see it in ashes.”
Donalson flashed a cruel grin, “Understood, sir.”
“Sir, please,” Derek repeated. “Give us a few more days. If you grant Specter free reign with the nobility we can cut off their s
upplies. We can end it quietly!”
“Your witch hunt among the nobility is a fool’s errand. For every Wayne Collins you neutralize, another will be waiting right behind him. Silent Thunder is the teeth of this movement. Without them there will be no more resistance. Go, Grand Admiral. Muster your forces and begin the purge. I would also suggest you invest time in questioning the rebel major we still have in custody. He knew of the ruse at the Weapons Manufacturing Facility, I’m quite certain. Let’s see what else he knows.”
The grand admiral nodded curtly and left, sparing one final glare for the Specters as he passed. 301 chanced a look at his partner, who wore an expression of pure frustration. That was to be expected. Alexandria was their home, and neither of them wanted to see it go up in flames.
“It will take at least 48 hours for the grand admiral to get organized and begin to hammer down,” Alexander said. “You want to save your city, gentlemen? Destroy Silent Thunder, and this whole business of a purge goes away. McCall, take your team to the Solithium Supply Depot and see what you can find out about why the rebels targeted it. The reports coming in thus far have been unsatisfactory.”
“Yes, sir,” McCall replied. “I would also like to remind you, Mighty World Ruler, that Specter has lost two members. Perhaps it is time to discuss the expansion of the force.”
“Ever the opportunist, McCall,” Alexander smiled. “As war approaches, Specter will be more important than ever…so yes, you will get your recruits. I will speak to the generals about selecting a few of their best to be trained. Also, that brings up another matter: with the Ruling Council gone, we will need to reconsider Specter’s reporting structure.”
301 suppressed a grimace. If Specter was rolled into Central Command, that meant they would report to Donalson. He couldn’t imagine a more miserable existence.
“Don’t look so sour, Specter Captain,” Alexander said, and 301 immediately checked his expression. “And don’t worry. I am not a fool. I am well aware that Donalson’s pride is too large to give him Specter. For now, you will remain outside Central Command and report directly to me. But hear me: do not attempt to interfere with Donalson’s purge of the city. It is an ugly but necessary step in breaking the spirit of this resistance. Do you understand, Specter Blaine?”
Derek opened his mouth as if to protest again, but thought better of it and merely nodded.
“Good,” Alexander sighed and sat down in his chair. “You may go…except for you, Specter Captain. You and I have more to discuss.”
Derek gave 301 a concerned look before he and McCall withdrew from the room, a sentiment 301 couldn’t help but feel as well. Why would the MWR ask to speak with him alone? Had he discovered that Derek had actually killed Jacob Sawyer, contrary to what they had led him to believe? Or was it something even more serious than that?
The doors closed, leaving the two men alone. Alexander let the silence stretch for several seconds, no doubt wanting 301 to sweat in wondering why he had been detained. And indeed, a bit of perspiration did appear on 301’s forehead.
At last the MWR motioned to the chair across from his desk—a chair which, to 301’s knowledge, was only for decoration. He had never seen anyone sit there, so it was somewhat of a shock when Alexander spoke, “Have a seat, Specter Captain.”
301 hesitated, and then sat down in the chair. It felt awkward, as though the wall of formality had suddenly come down between himself and the most powerful man in the world. He might have preferred standing—at attention, even. That was his place. Not here, sitting with the MWR as an equal.
“How are you doing, Captain?” Alexander asked.
301’s nerves spiked nearly as high as they did before battle. “What do you mean, sir?”
“You woke up this morning next to a traitor,” Alexander said. “And one of your superiors has just fled the city to make war against us. I was just wondering how this has affected you.”
“I suppose I’m…angry. Confused. Sad. Liz and I have been friends for a long time, sir. I can’t wrap my mind around why she would do this.”
“The same old reasons, I suppose,” the MWR said absently. “He must have something she wants. Betraying you—betraying everything, really—was the price to get it. Though unfortunately, this does lead to some questions that might be a bit…uncomfortable. Such as whether or not you knew anything of this plot, given your intimacy with Specter Aurora and the apparent favoritism the Ruling Council lavished upon you.”
301 paused. He needed to tread lightly here, to skirt the truth but not get caught in a lie. If Alexander even suspected that he knew about Sullivan’s betrayal beforehand, that would be the end of him. “I knew there was tension between the Ruling Council and yourself, sir. And to be honest, the Premier approached me several times with offers of friendship in exchange for my loyalty. However, I understood that loyalty to be subservient to my duties as a soldier, and never imagined it would go this far.”
“I see,” Alexander frowned, and for a moment 301 worried he had not been convincing enough. But then the MWR went on, “It just so happens that I believe you, Specter Captain. Not because of that shining example of sincerity you just spouted, but because I know Sullivan. He turned Aurora the moment she arrived, and attempted to use her to gain your allegiance. Had he succeeded he would not have left you behind. You would have gone with him, or been disposed of.”
301 thought of the knife stuck into his side table, suddenly glad he had forgotten to include that in his report. Liz had been instructed to kill him…orders she did not follow.
“In any case, when you came out of the Hall of Mirrors alive that day three months ago, Sullivan and I made an agreement. He would choose five of the ten trainees for Specter, and I would choose the rest. You were on my list, not his. So you see, from the very beginning you have been my champion. We have had our differences, it is true, but I have faith in your abilities. And on that note, there is something you need to know before you arrive at the Solithium Depot.”
“What is that, sir?”
“As I said, the reports coming in from the depot have been unsatisfactory, but they did send this over for me to review.” The MWR raised the lid on his laptop computer and spun the device around where 301 could see. “Surveillance from one of the cameras Silent Thunder neglected to destroy.”
The screen displayed a still shot of a group of rebels as they made their way across the fields between two Solithium pylons. At their center Grace Sawyer was clearly visible, as were the new rank stripes on her shoulders.
“You see the situation this places us in, Specter Captain,” Alexander fixed on 301 with an icy stare. “The woman who was your slave, who escaped from this palace under mysterious circumstances and was able to rejoin her father, now commands the Silent Thunder rebellion. From the outside your improprieties with both Sawyer and Aurora would seem to point toward treason.
“However, we have already been down that road, haven’t we? You delivered Jacob Sawyer to me. Now you will put any misgivings I have about your relationship with this woman to rest, and deliver his daughter to me as well. Failure in this case would not be wise. Do you understand me, Specter Captain?”
301 nodded immediately, though he was unable to fully suppress his reluctance, “I do, sir.”
“Good,” Alexander sat back in his chair. “Perhaps your intimate knowledge of her will give you an advantage. If possible, I want her alive. Joyous though her father’s death was, it did disappoint me that I could not witness his final moments. I’d prefer not to be so disappointed again.”
301 clenched his jaw and decided now was not the time to speak. No matter what he said, he could never be sincere about agreeing to deliver Grace into Alexander’s hands. He knew what that would mean for her, and he would die first.
Why did she have to go and put him in this position? Hadn’t he asked her to leave Alexandria? That if their paths crossed again he could not be so cordial? He gritted his teeth in frustration. If events continued on their curren
t course, Grace would be dead soon. A person did not survive long once they became Napoleon Alexander’s primary target. What if he came face-to-face with her again? What would he do?
My job, was the first reaction of his mind. But then he recoiled from that thought. He could never play a direct role in her death. It would destroy him.
“Thank you for your time, Specter Captain,” Alexander concluded. “You may go.”
301 rose and bowed slightly in respect, then withdrew.
-X-
Napoleon Alexander watched the Specter Captain leave, and smiled to himself. The man truly was a champion. Young, passionate, full of dreams about his future glory…he had been like that, once. He sighed and opened the top drawer of his desk, where two objects lay atop several notes and reports. The first—an old, tattered Spectral Cross—brought a sense of satisfaction. Jacob Sawyer had sent it to him three months before as a warning, a subtle taunt that retribution would soon follow. But now Sawyer was dead, and his opportunity for retribution gone forever.
The second object was one he had stumbled upon earlier that morning. It had been out of his mind for so long that he had nearly forgotten he had it, and seeing it again gave him pause. To the eye it was a simple ring set with a round blue stone, but to him it was so much more than that: a gift from a man who at the time he had respected above all others…a bastion of nobility, valor, and leadership.
A man whose world, even then, was fading.
In the beginning, Alexander had thought he could fill the man’s shoes. But leaders like him weren’t born every century, and once he figured out there would be no measuring up, Alexander forced himself to become something else. Something stronger. It took more to rule a world than to lead a country.
He had become more than that man could ever have been.
A beep sounded from his laptop computer, still open from when he had shown 301-14-A the shot of Grace Sawyer. He spun it back around to face him and saw a small red window in the lower right corner that read, Incoming Transmission. Origin: Unknown. His blood pumped with anticipation. There was only one person who could possibly have gotten a transmission straight to his personal computer.
