by J. L. Lyon
“That’s your plan, Crenshaw,” she said dryly. “If I can get him out of there, I will not hesitate.”
“You could jeopardize the entire operation,” he warned. “These plans are in place for a reason, Grace. Your naiveté is charming—a trait you inherited from your father—but we have a job to do, no matter how distasteful you may find it.”
“He is more than a pawn to me. And I would have thought you to feel the same, given what he is to you. Or are we all just a means to an end?”
Crenshaw flashed a wry smile, “I think perhaps we should postpone this conversation until later. You seem on the verge of saying some things you might regret.”
He made for the door, and she challenged him as he passed, “If you wouldn’t keep so many secrets from me, I might not be so grumpy.”
Crenshaw paused in the doorway and said quietly, “I don’t keep secrets because they make me powerful, Grace. I keep them to protect you. Soon the day will come when I can’t protect you from the realities of this world any more, and on that day you might wish you had never learned them. Hold fast to your ignorance in this case, and consider it a blessing while you still can.”
He waited for a moment, as if expecting her to object, but she did not. She accepted that there were certain things Crenshaw could not tell her. She just disagreed when it seemed he withheld things that she should know. But arguing with him was pointless. He was a vault of information, and the key was locked inside.
Crenshaw slipped out of the planning room and disappeared down the hall, leaving her alone in the quiet. For a while she just stood there, thinking. When Crenshaw had first told her that the plan was to keep Eli in play within the World System, she had interpreted that as an optional part of the operation. Surely, if they could convince him to defect, then he would be the one to make that choice?
Apparently not if Crenshaw had his way. But how could she ask Eli to do that? To walk back into the presence of those who had taken everything from him and act like nothing had changed?
Not everyone was capable of that kind of deception.
Grace left the room and made for the stairs, tempted to run—not walk—straight for her bed, and sleep. But before she had even made it halfway, the door at the end of the hall swung open and a blonde woman slid out, closing the door quietly behind her. When she turned and saw Grace, her eyes widened in surprise as though she had been caught in a trap.
The door at the end of the hall…the physicians’ room. Which must mean the woman was Major Graves’ daughter. But what is she trying to do? Grace thought. Escape? Without her children?
She stood still outside the door, mouth half-open as she considered the best excuse, her heavily bandaged hands creating a comical juxtaposition with the hostile look in her eyes. Grace pitied the woman for what she had been forced to endure, but her guard went up immediately. This was not a woman overcome with gratefulness at being saved.
“I…” she stammered at first, then turned her chin up and huffed with arrogant annoyance. “I wish to speak with whoever is in charge here…immediately.”
Grace took a tentative step forward, “I am the commander.”
The woman’s eyes moved over her, unimpressed, “I doubt that. I must only have about five or six years on you, and they certainly wouldn’t let me command a rebellion.”
At that moment the door swung open again and one of the physicians came out, faced flushed with anxiety and embarrassment when he saw Grace in the hall. “I’m sorry, Commander. I only turned away for a minute—”
“It’s alright, Doctor,” Grace replied. “I was planning to come see her anyway.” Just not right this second. “Can you give us a moment?”
“Of course,” the physician nodded. “I’ll just…see to Mrs. Elena Wilson’s children.” He went back into the room, and Grace said a silent thanks that he had mentioned the woman’s name. She had forgotten to ask Davian.
Elena continued to inspect Grace suspiciously, “You expect me to believe that all those hard-faced and battle-scarred men actually answer to you, some little teenage girl?”
“Early twenties, actually,” Grace replied. “And yes, they answer to me, by choice and by the laws of Silent Thunder.”
“Why would they do such a thing?”
“I suppose because of the esteem in which they held my father,” Grace said truthfully. She had wondered at the officers’ acceptance of her many times in the past few days, and that had been the only satisfactory conclusion. “I was his second-in-command, and it was his wish that I succeed him.”
“So you owe it to your daddy, then.”
Grace grimaced, but did not take the bait, “Yes, I am in this position because of him. But it was not something I wanted…it was something that was thrust upon me.”
“Sounds as though you will not be commander for very long, then.”
Her eyes alighted with indignation. The words struck a chord, not because Elena was trying to provoke her anger but because they cut to the core of her fears. To fail as commander meant failing her father—something she could not bear to think about. Rather than let the argument descend into bickering, she spoke words she remembered her father saying to her long ago, “‘The greatest leader is the one who would be just as content as a servant.’ As I said, I did not choose this. It chose me, and if another better, wiser leader is to replace me then I will gladly step aside.”
Elena stood in silence for a moment, then crossed her arms and sighed impatiently, “Whatever. When will my children and I be returning home? I believe you have inconvenienced us enough.”
Grace fought the desire to take the woman by the shoulders and shake her. How ungrateful could a person be? They had just saved her and her children from a torturous death, and she wanted to go back? “You can never return,” Grace said. “I’m sorry. Now that the World System knows your father was one of us, they will hunt you and your children wherever you go.”
“That man was not my father,” Elena insisted. “My father died before I was born, and I don’t appreciate being uprooted from my life because of something I had nothing to do with!”
“The Great Army will kill you if you go back,” Grace said. “I guarantee it.”
“But I have a life! A husband!” She stammered, panic beginning to overcome her arrogance. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Grace replied, unable to keep her pity for the woman at bay. “To the World System, you are guilty by simple association.”
“But I told you, that man was not my father!”
“He was,” Grace said simply. “I never spoke to him of you myself, but from what I understand he convinced your mother to accept the rule of the World System to keep you safe and in comfort while he joined Silent Thunder to fight for your future. Had he not been captured you might have gone on with your life none the wiser, but he was—and your days of citizenship are over. You now have only three choices, Elena. Remain here with us, seek refuge in the Wilderness, or die.”
“So you give us a choice between becoming traitors or barbarians. Neither is a place for my children to grow up.” She shook her head and asked quietly, “What of my husband? Is he alright?”
“We sent operatives to him, but he refused to come,” Grace replied. “As he is not linked to your father by DNA, he will be safe.”
Elena sighed and looked away, “I suppose that is to be expected. He will seek a new life now, with a new family. He is an ardent System loyalist and will see this as an outright betrayal. I thought that perhaps, for the children, he might…”
Grace wanted to embrace and comfort the woman as the truth that her husband chose his life in the System over one with his family sank in. She couldn’t decide what was more heartbreaking: the fact that the man would choose such a path, or that Elena accepted the devastating truth so dispassionately. Shouldn’t love provide even that smallest benefit of the doubt—a hope that someone cares for you enough to give up all that they are? She ran a hand subconsci
ously over her forearm, thinking of her own star-crossed love story. Did they have that kind of love? Or was it doomed to betrayal and cold acceptance, as had been the love of the woman who stood before her?
No. She could not become like Elena, who accepted the abandonment of her husband as a mere inconvenience. Love—real love—should be fought for.
“I want you to release us,” Elena said. “Please, we want nothing to do with your rebellion. We just want to live out our lives in peace.”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that,” Grace said. “The best chance you have to live in peace now is the Wilderness. I will prepare a detail to transfer you and your children to one of our secondary operation posts in the morning. From there they will take you to an encampment outside the city. After that, if you wish to return no one will stop you. Just know that the World System is not your friend, and you will likely meet a grisly fate if you do.”
“Fine then, but I do not wish to wait until morning. Take us now.”
“There is no one at this center that can spare enough time to take you, and if you left the moment you arrived at the secondary center you still wouldn’t arrive in the camp before sunset. The Wilderness is not a place to travel in darkness, even for one well accustomed to its dangers, and I will not expose your children or my men to such an unnecessary risk. So please, go back inside and be with your children. An officer will be along shortly to transfer you to the secondary operations post.” She motioned to the door, and when Elena opened her mouth to protest again Grace cut her off in an authoritative tone, “I will remind you that you are in a military installation and disruptions will not be tolerated. We did not save your life because there was anything to be gained from it, and if you can’t afford us enough respect to do things our way, I will have you restrained. Do you understand?”
Elena nodded, eyes wide in surprise at the forcefulness of the order.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have pressing matters that require my attention,” Grace turned and walked back toward the stairs, only pausing for a moment to make sure Elena complied with her order. By the time she looked over her shoulder, the woman had disappeared back into the room.
Grace sighed with both frustration and relief. There was something about the woman that made Grace certain she could not be trusted, and she would advise her escort into the Wilderness of the same. Blindfolding her might not be too cruel a stretch, just to be sure. After that, Grace could only hope—for the sake of those two children—that Elena did not return.
18
THE STREETS OF ALEXANDRIA were perilous for one desiring not to be seen, though none who saw the Right Hand’s face would dare intervene in his affairs. He felt strange, going in plain sight on resistance business with nothing to mask his face, but if he attempted to hide he would only succeed in drawing more attention. Still, he would prefer that no one mark his movements, for it might raise unfortunate questions about why he was there when he had every reason to be elsewhere.
Dawn approached from the east, and on a normal day the streets would have been filled with citizens on their way to designated work areas. But Donalson’s purge, still only in its infancy, had all but shut down the city. Very few aside from the soldiers of the Great Army were brave enough to come out of their homes. The smell of smoke hung light on the air—indications of the first interrogations—and every now and then he thought he heard a scream in the distance.
It was a horrible thing, the knowledge of what was happening. And this was only the beginning. Today was the day that the purge would begin in earnest, and then Alexandria would become just like Rome. Worse, perhaps, given that the MWR’s vendetta against Silent Thunder was far more personal.
Alexandria would soon fall apart. And from the shattered pieces, the purge would uncover enough evidence to lead them back to the rebellion. They had to finish this before that happened, and that meant the clock was ticking.
The Right Hand stepped out of the morning light into a shadowed alley, and walked halfway down before he stopped and waited. Only a few seconds passed before he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and then he turned to see a man shrouded in an elegant black robe approaching from the street from which he came. Likely, the man had been following.
He walked with a slight limp, though the Right Hand had always suspected that to just be a part of the disguise. He offset the “disability” with a tall staff in his left hand. Both staff and robe displayed obvious signs of wealth, from the gold embroidery that lined the hem and hood of his attire to the glittering diamonds that adorned the head of the staff.
There was no telling how long he had been following, but neither the Right Hand nor any System soldiers had marked him. It took a special kind of skill to elude attention so well.
“Greetings, my friend,” the newcomer came to a stop and leaned on his staff for support. “I have warned you about contacting me, especially now when eyes are so fine-tuned to spot our movements.”
“I would not have called you here if it was not important, sir,” the Right Hand replied. “Certain things have recently come to my attention, and I wanted to give you the chance to explain before making any…accusations.”
The man paused before saying calmly, “Go on.”
“Doctor Samuel Ryder, a member of General Crenshaw’s intelligence cell, succeeded in downloading all of the World System’s research data before the Weapons Manufacturing Facility was destroyed. One of the items that should have been confined to that list somehow ended up operational on an Imperial ship.”
The other man paused again, “And you’re wondering, I suppose, if I gave the technology to the Ruling Council to help them stage their coup.”
“It had crossed my mind, sir.”
“And would it anger you if I did?”
“I would be curious to know your reasoning. Sullivan is no more to be trusted than Napoleon Alexander, and taking sides in the civil war may distract us from our true goal.”
“And what goal is that?”
“The liberation of the world,” the Right Hand replied emphatically. “The restoration of all we once held dear.”
“That is one goal,” the man said. “One of many, not all of which can be achieved. Anger you though it may, I confess I did give the order to allow the Ruling Council to acquire Fusiosphere technology. I believed it might offer us the chance to forgo this civil war, and despite what you say I would choose Sullivan over Alexander without question. However, I didn’t count on Specter flying in to save the day.”
“But what of the plan? What of the Shadow Soldier? If the World System falls the last fifteen years will have been for nothing!”
“One must always be ready for the bend in the road,” the man said. “We have played a good game, my friend. But the Ruling Council’s coup came earlier than expected, and that has changed the board. We must adapt if we are to survive.”
“But to abandon the plan after so many men of Silent Thunder have given their lives in preparation for Shadow Fall? How can you even think of abandoning them now?”
“The chances of Shadow Fall’s success are nearly gone. Despite the best efforts of General Crenshaw, 301-14-A remains firmly entrenched in his loyalty to the World System. We cannot hide the Charity child’s survival forever, and we cannot allow Alexander to use him against us. I have…contingencies…that I have set in motion.”
The Right Hand regarded his superior with incredulity, “So you’re just giving up? Are we to send him off to rot in some prison on Domination Crisis Eleven?”
The man laughed, “Of course not. What a waste that would be. I thought you knew me better than that.”
“This conversation has proven I don’t know anything about you, not really,” the Right Hand replied. “In all these years, you’ve not once revealed yourself to me.”
“You don’t need to see a man’s face to know his heart,” the man said. “We have been at this for a long time now, my friend. You were my first recruit, and without you none of thi
s would have been possible. It is to your credit that few even know I exist. If it is a concern for my trust that you express, you can set that aside. I do not reveal myself to you for the same reason you did not reveal yourself to Jacob Sawyer, or Ellis Crenshaw. There is a history behind this face that might prove difficult to overcome, and we do not have time to spare for me to gain your trust. There will come a day when you will know me, but for now I must ask that you wait a little longer.”
The Right Hand paused, hesitant to agree for the first time since all this had been set in motion. So many hopes and dreams…how twisted that it could rise or fall on the conversation of two men. “I need assurances…about the Shadow Soldier.”
Shifting more weight to his staff, the man sighed and turned his head toward the ground. The Right Hand imagined that if he could see his superior’s face, it would be one filled with consternation and regret. “When all of this began I was blinded by vengeance, determined to exact a pound of flesh from the MWR no matter what the cost. So when that cost had to be paid not by me, but by another, I did not hesitate. I used him as my pawn, and in the process stole his spirit. I took away his free will. Yes, I set him on a path to a great destiny, but I cheapened it by robbing him of the chance to choose for himself. Over the years I have done many wretched things, but this…this haunts me the most. I will undo this mistake, my friend, to whatever extent I am able.”
“But how is this any different? Forcibly removing him to another location and not giving him a choice in the matter at all?”
“Sooner or later Alexander will find out the truth. At least this way, he will have time—time to decide whether he wants to embrace his heritage, or become something else.”
“I have seen the greatness in him, sir. He could be every ounce the leader that his father was, I have no doubt.”
“You’ve grown to care for the boy, I see. He represents a link to better times…friends long past.”
