by J. L. Lyon
And in that moment, he knew that he would.
-X-
Admiral McCall stepped inside his office and shut the door behind him, sliding the lock into place as he pulled a small communications device from his pocket and placed it in his ear. It was similar in appearance to the standard-issue earphones used by all military personnel in the World System, but it was not the same. Once it was in place, he spoke, “Everything is prepared. I just need—” McCall went silent as he turned to face the interior of his office, where a man emerged from the shadows with a gun pointed straight at his forehead. “I’m going to have to call you back.”
Slowly, he reached up and switched off the device, leaving both hands in the air after he did so.
“Not a sound,” the figure warned, reaching forward to take the admiral’s Gladius, “Are you expecting anyone?”
McCall shook his head.
“Good,” the man said. “Because we’re going to have a conversation, you and I. If at any time you try to signal or cry out for help, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
“I do,” McCall answered. “What is it that you want?”
“We’ll get to that,” the intruder motioned to the chair behind the admiral’s desk with his gun. “Please, sit.”
McCall complied and sat down in his chair while the man moved in front of him, his back to the door. “How did you get in here?” McCall asked. “This is one of the most secure buildings in the world, within the palace defense ring, no less.”
“If you think members of Silent Thunder and your precious Specters are the only ones left in the world who possess such skills, you are gravely mistaken,” the man replied. “They are all amateurs next to a man like me.”
“In keeping to the shadows, perhaps,” McCall smiled. “But Specters can defend themselves when they are caught. I wonder if you can do the same?”
“I don’t get caught.” The man’s eyes shifted briefly to the device in the admiral’s ear, “And you should be more careful. Anyone could have been waiting for you in here, and I doubt you want them to see you with that rather fine piece of technology. A Quantum Comm, I believe they are called? Gives you the ability to speak with someone anywhere in the world, so long as they have a similar device, without the need for a satellite signal. Very rare, though, Quantum Comms…and illegal. I would love to know who was on the other end of that conversation.”
“I’m sure you would,” McCall said with a grin. “But something tells me that’s not why you came.”
“What makes you say that? You know nothing about me, and so cannot know anything about my motives.”
“On the contrary,” McCall folded his hands in his lap and sat back calmly. “I know exactly who you are, and why you’re here. But unfortunately I cannot help you.”
The man’s grip on his weapon tightened, “That would be most unwise.”
“Perhaps you should put the weapon away and make your request as a normal person would,” McCall said. “I can understand why you don’t want to go through normal channels, but I don’t find guns to be constructive in an honest conversation. Lower your weapon and let us speak as equals.”
The man hesitated for a moment, but then let his arm fall to his side. He spoke with a sigh, “I am—was—the Discipliner of the Capital Orphanage of Alexandria, and I have a message from a dying woman. By the time I got clearance to deliver it, she would already be dead.”
“Yes,” McCall nodded thoughtfully. “I had heard that the Capital Orphanage was shut down. Word is that Matron Young fell ill, and no one wanted to take her place. I assume she is the dying woman you speak of, but I actually had two former residents of your program. Which one is the message for?”
“301-14-A.”
McCall paused, “If memory serves me correctly, Matron Young produced a significant portion of the Great Army’s second generation—more than any other single source, in fact. So out of all those children, why him?”
“She is the only one with the answer to that. So will you help me, Admiral, or not?”
“Unfortunately I can’t,” McCall said. “The Specter Captain is out on assignment and I don’t know when he will return.”
“Then can I trust you to deliver the message in my stead?”
McCall nodded, “I’ll make sure he gets it as soon as he returns. But you must understand that he may not want to come. Many of our soldiers prefer to leave their childhoods behind, especially when…well, I suppose I don’t need to explain it to you.”
The Discipliner smiled in recognition of the bitter undercurrents to the admiral’s words, but did not rise to his own defense. “Growing up without parents is a difficult experience for any child. But all the same, the matron is dying. This may be the last chance he ever has to speak with her.”
“I’ll do what I can,” McCall smiled. “Shall I summon an escort for you? Or do you think you can manage?”
“Don’t worry about me,” the Discipliner replied. “Just get 301 to the orphanage as soon as possible.” With that, he tossed the admiral his Gladius and disappeared through the door, closing it soundlessly behind him.
McCall breathed a long sigh, watching the door for several moments after the Discipliner’s departure. So many moving pieces in this game they were playing. Did anyone even really know the goal of it anymore?
He reached back up and touched the send button on the Quantum Comm, “I apologize for that, sir. A visit from an old friend of yours.” Pause. “Yes, the device is ready. I just need a little more time.” McCall sighed as he listened to the voice on the other end, gripping his Gladius tightly. Somehow it always made him feel more empowered holding Amicus in his hand.
“Tomorrow it is, sir. And then, all hell breaks loose.”
24
LIZ STRODE DOWN THE hallway toward the emperor’s office, acknowledging the deference she was shown by the Imperial guardsmen with an occasional nod. She could get used to the way they treated her like royalty, even if it did come at the expense of working for Sullivan. Her relationship with the emperor had always been one of convenience, but she believed her plan might have the potential to make him see her in a new light. If she handed him his war, there was no reason to think he wouldn’t hand her anything she wanted in return.
She noticed the door was only slightly ajar as she approached, and at the sound of voices she chose not to advance any farther. Instead she veered to the side of the door and stood out of sight where she could still hear what transpired within. Sullivan had summoned her, so it was odd for him to be speaking with someone else—had to be an impromptu meeting.
“What is it that is really troubling you, Christopher?” Sullivan asked.
“You have not yet signed the treaty.” Liz recognized the voice of Councilor Holt.
“No. I’m sorry, but things have been busy here since my arrival. I can’t be bothered to read through and sign a worthless piece of paper.”
There was a brief pause, and then, “I assume, Scott, that I can be frank with you here.”
“Of course,” Sullivan replied.
“Something has been pressing on my mind of late,” Holt began. “Something that we have not spoken of for a great many years.”
Liz strained her ears as the emperor answered, “Some things are best left in the past, Christopher. There are only a few paths down which this might go, none of which I care to travel.”
“I cannot in good conscience go through with this war until we’ve spoken of it. You remember that day when Alexander approached the two of us, offering us positions on the Ruling Council if we would only announce our support for him publicly?”
Sullivan breathed in deeply, “I remember it. If not for what happened that day...” Sullivan trailed off and finished in a quiet voice, “things might have gone quite differently.”
“You and I were the first ones he approached. Our names and faces were well recognized by those who survived the war, so it was no surprise that many turned to us for guidance on what to do next. I suppose the ir
ony was that we were looking for guidance just as much as anyone else.” Liz leaned closer to the door to hear Holt go on with disgust, “And then came Alexander and his men, returning from a battlefield of glory with claims to have saved us all from total annihilation. His demonstrations and passion were impressive—inspiring, even—especially to a couple of old men mourning the loss of their world. He had us then...from the first swing of his blade he held us firmly within his grasp.”
Liz struggled to keep quiet. What was Holt talking about? What had happened all those years ago?
“He used us,” Sullivan said. “He fooled us with promises of restoration and freedom, just as he did all the rest.”
“We should have known then,” Holt said. “We should never have given him what he asked us for.”
“Now we have the chance to make it right again. We will avenge that betrayal, and every other that followed on its heels.”
“Simply conquering the tyrant is not enough.”
“Not enough for what?” Sullivan demanded. “Our revenge? He will pay for his betrayal in blood, Christopher, you can be sure of that.”
“Blood, also, we will pay—the blood of millions,” Holt’s voice broke. “Is that the kind of men we have become? Is the coming slaughter to be our legacy?”
“Need I even say that you were one of the leading advocates of separation from the World System? By your own words you declared that to bring down Alexander we would first have to fight the greatest war the world has ever known. Are you going to change your mind now that the war is upon us?”
“We talk about Alexander’s betrayal, but that is not where the treachery ends. The people of our country trusted us, Scott, and we delivered them into the hands of a madman. That is the betrayal we bear, and I’m not sure I can shoulder any more.”
“We will free the world of Alexander’s reign—”
“And replace it with another dictatorship?” Holt challenged. “The New World System? How can that be our goal?”
“The world is not what it once was. We can never go back to the way things used to be.”
“And yet the Citadel provides us with a chance—a very real chance—to do just that. We need this treaty. We have been given a second chance to alter the course of history. Once we used it foolishly, but we don’t have to repeat that mistake.”
“What exactly is it that you want, Christopher?”
“What I want, Scott, is redemption.”
“Redemption,” Sullivan repeated, as though the word was some kind of poison. Liz could feel the tension building in the room even from outside, and so she decided she could not listen any more. Aside from the fact that Sullivan might soon wonder why she hadn’t arrived, she greatly feared that the emperor might take rash action against the Councilor, which would not bode well for the Imperial Conglomerate or their war effort.
She knocked lightly on the door and caught a glimpse of Sullivan’s impassioned glare, “Forgive me for the interruption, Emperor...Councilor. But you called for me?”
A look of relief passed over the emperor’s face, “Yes, Chief Aurora. We have important matters to discuss. Councilor, perhaps we can continue this conversation at a later date.”
Liz sensed Holt’s reluctance to leave, but after a brief hesitation he rose and faced the emperor with a hard expression, “You think about what I’ve said. Because once we start down this road, we will never be able to turn back.” He didn’t spare Liz so much as a glance before walking past her into the hallway.
Though clearly perturbed by the exchange with Holt, Sullivan managed to set it aside, “Please, Chief Aurora, sit.”
Liz tried to think of what she might have done had she not just overheard that conversation, and decided she would indeed notice the tension that still remained. So she asked, “Is something wrong, Emperor?”
“No,” Sullivan replied. “Nothing that need concern you, anyway. I will deal with this myself. You and I have other matters to discuss, and I don’t think you’re going to like my opinion.”
“You’ve read my report, I take it.”
“I have,” Sullivan nodded. “And I must question the wisdom of placing a man like Charles Justus in position to make an alliance with Silent Thunder. In fact, I hardly think that better than Elijah Charity.”
“You know my opinion on that, sir,” Liz smiled. “Much is always risked in war, but even more is risked when you try to win one with brains instead of brawn. I’m telling you that this is our best chance.”
Sullivan’s eyes narrowed, “Do you really think Justus will be able to convince Grace Sawyer that he’s trustworthy?”
“Why wouldn’t they trust him? He wrested an entire city from the World System’s grasp and held it for eighteen months. He’s shown his dedication to the System’s downfall, and that should resonate with Sawyer.”
“And if they resonate with him? How do you know Justus won’t turn on us and side with Silent Thunder when the time comes?”
“He won’t,” Liz assured. “Not so long as we control Rome. He would never do anything to cause harm to this city or its people.”
The emperor shook his head, “I still don’t like it.”
“If we don’t do this and everything goes perfectly in an all-out war with the World System, it will still be several years before you sit in Alexandria again, Emperor,” Liz leaned forward. “Now I know I wasn’t your first or maybe not even your fifth choice for this job, but I’m here, and my specialty is intelligence. Give me free reign to put eyes on the ground in Division One and I will hand you this war in half the time. If Justus fails, we have lost nothing.”
“It’s not his failing I fear…it’s what he and Silent Thunder might accomplish together.”
“That is a risk we are just going to have to live with.”
The emperor sighed, but already she could see him caving. He wouldn’t give up the prospect of a shorter war, not when he knew the dangers inherent to a leader—even a tyrant—who engaged in one far beyond what his people could bear. Docile though the majority of the population might be, sometimes it only takes a single spark to light the gasoline-doused spirits of an oppressed generation. If even a highly respected member of the Imperial High Council had grown cold to the idea of a long and bloody war, how many would follow?
“What will you need to make this happen?”
“A imperial field commission as a major for Justus, and a team hand-selected by me who will report to him for the duration of the mission.”
“Done,” the emperor said. “Anything else?”
“Justus has made a personal request,” she replied.
Sullivan frowned and sat back in his chair, “Do tell.”
“Once we are victorious, he wants to be the one to kill Derek Blaine.”
The emperor’s eyes widened, “Odd for an idealist, but not surprising. Blaine was the one who led the final stages of the Roman campaign. Captured Justus himself.”
“I don’t think he made any friends in the process.”
“Blaine’s time will come, as it will for all the others as well,” Sullivan said. “But I will add my word to yours, Chief Aurora: if Derek Blaine survives this war, I will see to it that Justus has his pound of flesh. I hope he is more efficient in disposing of his charge than you were, my dear.”
His words stung, forcing her to remember how it felt to hold that knife against 301’s neck, to fight against her own will to do what she knew had to be done. And then, to fail…a victim of her own heart.
“That will be all, Chief Aurora,” Sullivan waved a hand in dismissal. “Prepare this operation, and get some rest. We will speak of the global aspects of the war in the coming days.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, and rose to leave the room.
Many things had changed in the last few hours. She wore a different uniform, fought under a different flag, and wore a different rank. But then, she still felt like a servant held by Sullivan’s leash, listening to him make promises she worried he might never ke
ep.
Her hands balled into fists and she fought the urge to go back and bury one in the emperor’s face. In reality, nothing had changed at all.
25
GRACE LEANED AGAINST THE cold railing on the command center’s balcony, trying her best not to shiver as she breathed in the fresh winter air. She risked being seen in the open, but she needed to get out, to escape the world where her command was falling to pieces around her. First she had failed with Eli, then the Ruling Council had tossed Silent Thunder into the middle of a civil war, and now this. An entire base eliminated…every man, woman, and child.
There would be whispers for her removal, no doubt, but whether they would grow into more than that she couldn’t say. In the face of tragedy men always needed someone to blame, and it might make them feel better to prove all those people had died as a result of Grace Sawyer’s blunder. Easier to face the future that way, rather than accept the truth that sometimes terrible things just happen…and any one of them might meet the same fate as those in Center 3 one day.
But it was not for herself that she grieved. It was for those she had lost...for those she could not save, could not protect, could not bring back. Men and women who would never see freedom; children who would never fall in love; lives extinguished before their time, like a canvas painting that would be forever incomplete. Fault did not matter. It had happened on her watch, and she was responsible. She had failed them. And that was not the only tragedy the day had brought.
Alexandria had descended into a nightmare. The boots of hundreds of Great Army soldiers thundered loudly on the concrete as they moved from one location to the next, spreading their horrors to the tune of random gunfire and the anguished cries of their victims. The city burned, and smoke rose into the late afternoon sky—black like the feeling in her heart.
“The city is falling apart,” Crenshaw said from behind her. “But we can’t afford for you to do the same. You should not be out here, Grace.”
“This is happening because of us,” she said, her voice hollow. “Alexander is trying to draw us out.”
