by J. L. Lyon
“I was your ticket in,” Grace replied. “I appreciate you bringing me back, but let’s not pretend it was anything other than that. What was your primary objective in rejoining Silent Thunder?”
“To force 301-14-A’s defection.”
“But even that is not your endgame,” she said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t care if he stayed with the System or came here with us. Why do you really want him there?”
“You’d make a good interrogator.”
“I wouldn’t have to interrogate you, Crenshaw, if you would just tell me what’s really going on here. Is it that you don’t trust me?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Quite the opposite, actually. I hesitate to tell you the full truth because I worry that once you know…you will no longer trust me.”
“And knowing you’re keeping secrets that could get us all killed…should that make me trust you?”
The general smiled, “Touché, Commander. It has been difficult to keep these things from you, as it was difficult to keep them from your father. Perhaps the time for secrets has ended, at least between us. But once you know, there is no going back, and you will bear the same burden that I have suffered for the last four years. No one else can know what I am about to tell you. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
Grace noted the concern in Crenshaw’s eyes—not the concern of mistrust, but a sincere worry for her well-being. His trepidation gave her pause, as for the first time she really considered what it would be like to carry such an important secret—and to carry it alone. Was that a responsibility she wanted? All this time her only thought had been that Crenshaw was keeping something from her—something she had a right to know. But perhaps he had done it out of love, like an uncle forced to protect her from the darker side of their mission.
But as commander, she could not have that luxury. She needed to know the truth, and all of it.
“Why now?” she asked. “Why after all this time of secrecy have you decided to tell me?”
“I cannot guarantee I will survive the coming days,” Crenshaw said matter-of-factly. “And if that should be the case—if I am discovered, or killed—I need you to finish what I have begun.”
“Which is?”
“I returned to Silent Thunder for two reasons, Grace,” Crenshaw said. “The first was to rein in your father. Rosalind passed him 301-14-A’s credentials too early, and against my wishes. I knew Jacob had little patience and would charge right ahead. He did so, and endangered Eli’s life in the process. I came here to make sure nothing like that would happen again.
“I also came to help ensure the success of your three-pronged attack. Each target was crucial to the plan—one failure could have destroyed years of planning. Instead it has set the stage for what comes next, for the revolution we have all been waiting for.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed, “I would hardly call what we have done a revolution, Crenshaw. We have fought bravely and put up an admirable resistance, but we have hit only three targets. Destroying a weapons plant, smashing up Solithium stores, and taking out a communications dish has been but a pinprick to the World System.”
“Yes,” Crenshaw nodded. “And that is precisely what Napoleon Alexander thinks.”
She could hear the note of pride in Crenshaw’s voice, and it made her even more curious, “So what, then? Has this all been about misdirection?”
“Somewhat. Under Jonathan Charity we took the slow approach, chipping away at the System’s infrastructure until it began to crumble from the inside. We almost won that way, too. But at the time of Jonathan’s leadership, the System had barely gotten the opportunity to solidify its hold. What we’re facing now is a System that has ruled supreme for fifteen years. A very different game. However, it wasn’t a stretch to assume that Alexander would expect the same tactics. In fact, we were counting on it.”
The drips echoing from somewhere in the nearby tunnels marked the seconds as Crenshaw went silent, and she worried that he might change his mind about telling her the truth. But she said nothing, hoping he would continue on his own.
“Napoleon Alexander teaches his soldiers that the World System rules supreme over the earth. While that is close to the truth, there are still some places in the world where no Great Army soldier has walked. Across the sea, there is such a place: a Republic free of Alexander’s reign. And more than that, a land that was not razed by war. Not even the Persians held ground there. The result is a society that was never slowed down by the battles that wracked the rest of civilization. The Republic, so I’m told, is the utopia all of the world should have been.”
“Have you been there?” Grace asked.
Crenshaw shook his head, “No. But you have met someone who has. Rosalind.”
Grace smiled, remembering the old woman fondly despite how full of frustration their meeting had been. She didn’t blame herself, just coming off the thrill of an escape from the palace, and in hindsight there had been something different about Rosalind—as though she was untouched by the System’s rule; as though she was from someplace else.
Now it seemed her instincts were confirmed.
“Why is she here? To supervise?”
“In a way,” he smiled. “She would say she is here to assist, but it’s just a smokescreen. The Republic wants a representative here to report back on everything the resistance is doing. From what I understand, pressure from the GRA is harsh.”
“GRA?”
“Global Restoration Alliance,” Crenshaw explained. “A unified body of the world’s governments-in-exile, hosted by the Republic. The GRA has been pushing for an all-out war for the better part of a decade—a war that the Republic knew would be suicide. So, they proposed an alternative instead.”
“And that’s where you came in.”
“Yes,” Crenshaw said. “Four years ago I was in a dark place, Grace. I was out there, roaming through the Wilderness from city to city seeking the ghosts of hopes long dead. When the Right Hand found me I had been contemplating ending it all, finally. I was at the end of my rope.”
Grace nodded. She had heard stories of many older Silent Thunder operatives who just couldn’t cope with the realities of the new world. Death by Despair, her father had called it—men who had been so entrenched in the norms of civilization that they couldn’t find their place in a world where all they had known was gone, likely never to return.
She had never imagined someone as strong as Crenshaw would face that problem. But sometimes, strength of will had nothing to do with it. The human heart could only take so much.
“He pulled me back from the brink, promising that there was still room for hope,” he laughed. “When he told me why he had come, I thought he was insane. Maybe he was. But the way he laid out the plan—the way he rationalized everything—I could see the genius in it. So I pledged to the resistance and vowed to help them topple the World System without a war—the very notion that had caused your father and I to part ways years before.
“So I became the head of their intelligence cell, and we began to build the network. The Republic was too far away to amount to much of a support system, so we approached noblemen sympathetic to our cause to support us instead, thus creating the benefactor network. With the network in place, we brought Silent Thunder back to the city, to accomplish what limited military goals needed to be achieved before we could launch our endgame.”
Grace crossed her arms, somewhat offended at the prospect of Silent Thunder being used for such a purpose without her father’s knowledge. It seemed…deceptive.
“So?” she said after he went silent again. “What is the endgame?”
“I half expected you to get there on your own by now,” he smiled. “But perhaps your short time in leadership has protected you from the ruthlessness of the job. There is only one way to bring down the World System without a war.”
He took a deep breath, “The plan is to assassinate the MWR.”
She gritted her teeth and looked away, Of course. There was a cer
tain inevitability to Crenshaw’s confession, as though she had always known but never quite let it sink in. Before they could move forward into any kind of promising future, Napoleon Alexander would have to be removed from power. It was unlikely he would surrender that power voluntarily.
So why would Crenshaw hold something like that back for so long? And why—despite the darkness—could she see that guilty glint in his eyes, and hear the hesitation in his voice?
“There’s more, isn’t there?” she asked. “You know I have no qualms about seeing Napoleon Alexander die; I would do it myself if I got the chance. But it can’t be that simple or we would have done it years ago. If we kill Napoleon Alexander, the System’s central computer will just choose a new MWR. We’ll have the satisfaction of seeing a tyrant fall, but nothing will change…for all we know, we could get someone worse.”
Crenshaw sighed, “This next part will not be easy for you to hear, Grace. In fact, you may never want to see me again once you know the truth. I only ask that you continue to lead well, and that you stick to Silent Thunder’s final part in the plan.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“The mainframe for the System’s central computer resides underneath the Crown section of the palace. But there was a port of access to the mainframe in the Weapons Manufacturing Facility, kept as a precaution in the event that the mainframe itself became inaccessible. That was the true target of Silent Thunder’s attack: to access the central computer and upload a subroutine—a virus, if you will—that will overwrite the computer’s choice of a successor with the one that we uploaded.”
The pieces snapped suddenly together, and Grace’s blood turned to ice. This was it. Every uncertainty, every misunderstood cue from the general, came down to this master plan. Rosalind’s intense interest in her relationship with 301, Crenshaw’s rash decision to return to Silent Thunder once he learned her story, and then his insistence that 301’s true identity be kept from her father...it all made sense. Jacob Sawyer, like her, would have wanted to extract 301 from the World System to keep him safe—perhaps even seek a way to restore his memories.
But Crenshaw, and this Republic, had other plans. All this time she had worried about Eli being unprepared to be a leader in Silent Thunder, but if Crenshaw had his way he wouldn’t become an operative or a commander.
He would become the MWR.
This wasn’t about overthrowing the World System at all. It was about taking control of it, either to remake or dismantle it from within. But to guarantee that 301 would not become just an extension of Napoleon Alexander’s rule, they needed her to bring Elijah Charity back to the surface—not all the way, perhaps, but enough that he would be sympathetic to the resistance once he took the throne.
Now that she saw the full picture clearly, she couldn’t help but acknowledge its genius. Eli was the ultimate sleeper agent, the son of Jonathan Charity himself poised to take control of the World System and deliver it into the hands of Napoleon Alexander’s enemies. How fortunate, for the resistance, that Eli had landed in such an opportune position. Fortunate, and almost providential. Unless...
“How long have you known?” she asked quietly. “How long have you known he was alive?”
Crenshaw had watched her in silence while she came to her conclusions, and there was no doubt why she asked that particular question. He hung his head in shame, “Four years.”
Grace turned away, hoping to hide her shock, and paced slowly in a small circle. If she tried to stay still she might explode. Four years...at that time 301 would only have been seventeen, not even on active duty in the Great Army. How much easier might it have been to get him to leave the System then, before riches and glory seized him in their grip?
“I know, Grace,” Crenshaw said, reading into her silence. “There is nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already spoken to myself...no angle you can find that I haven’t already considered. But in the end, I had to do what I believed to be for the greater good.”
She stopped pacing and rested her hand on the cool steel of the ladder, gripping it tightly, “And who are we to decide what is for the greater good? Many men across the centuries have made the same claim, but that didn’t change the wrongness of their actions, nor did it wash the blood from their hands. We are not gods, to play with the lives of men.”
“Sometimes tough decisions must be made, and in the absence of gods men must decide. You think this world is divided into black and white, that every action can be judged right or wrong. But that is not the world we live in. There are no easy decisions, Grace, no simple answers...not when you hold the destiny of the world in your hands. Sometimes, sacrifices must be made.”
“Even if that sacrifice is your own flesh and blood?”
Crenshaw's expression went hard, “I searched for Elijah for the better part of three years. My last promise to Jonathan before he ordered me out of the Specter Spire was that I would protect his family. Having failed with Lauren, I vowed never to stop until I had proof Elijah was dead. In the end it cost me everything. My men abandoned me, your father rejected me, and I left Silent Thunder, all in the hope that he was still out there...somewhere. When I learned what had happened...what they had done, I felt as you feel: betrayed. I wanted to hurt them, just as much as I wanted to hurt Napoleon Alexander.
“But these are not times for feuds and quests for vengeance. These are times when one friend can tip the balance of the future toward victory, and I knew that if I stood in their way I would be easy to remove. Better that I become one of them, to watch over Elijah as best I could, than allow someone else to take that charge.”
Grace remained quiet. Crenshaw assumed she had arrived at a conclusion that had not yet occurred to her, though now it was not hard to see. No, not providence at all. Careful, meticulous, manipulative planning. And in the balance, the life of the only man she had ever loved.
“Just tell me one thing,” she said. “Did this Republic of yours discover that Elijah was alive and then form their plan, or were they the ones hiding him from us all along?”
Crenshaw looked away, providing the only answer she needed. So...Elijah had been taken not by providence—not by chance—but by the machinations of a foreign government. They used him, had allowed him to be destroyed and rebuilt as the World System’s slave, all so that one day he could be a pawn in their game to take these lands for their own. And now, that day was here.
“Why did you hide this from me, Crenshaw?” she asked. “Why did you hide it from my father? We had a right to know what kind of people we were helping! How are these monsters any better than Napoleon Alexander?”
“Because they are the monsters who will save us from him.”
Grace nodded, her expression grim, “And after we’ve won, who will save us from them?”
“That depends,” Crenshaw replied. “Can Eli be trusted with the power we are about to give him?”
She thought back to her last meeting with him with a twinge of pain, barely able to see past the words he had spoken as he looked up at her with tired eyes, I do not love you.
You’re a fool, Eli, she thought to herself. Your words accomplished their design and shocked me into leaving. But they only proved how much you really do love me, that you would sacrifice yourself to let me go. He had pulled a gun on his partner…surely Blaine would not let something like that pass without consequence, not from what she knew of him. But if Eli was still in position, as Crenshaw believed him to be, that must mean he had worked everything out.
And she remained the only person who could ever get through to him. If she left the city now, all could be lost. He could be lost. And as long as she remained free, Alexandria would continue to burn. Her decision back at the hollowed out dome returned to the forefront of her mind. She knew what she had to do; she just didn’t know how to do it.
“No man can be trusted with that much power, Crenshaw,” she answered. “But it looks like he’s all we have. When this plan of yours comes to fruition, I will seek h
im out.”
Crenshaw nodded, “He will need you. That is why I suggest you not go too deep into the Wilderness just yet. He may find himself in need of Silent Thunder’s services to secure his throne.”
“And where will you be then? Do you expect to return to Silent Thunder?”
“I haven’t made that choice yet…” the general winced. “Unless you have made it for me.”
“Return or not, I won’t interfere,” she said. “But as for advising me, I think we have reached the end of the road. To hide something like this from me—to use Silent Thunder as a pawn in your deceptive game—I will never be able to look at you without wondering what other, darker secrets you might be hiding. I need men around me I can trust.”
He nodded sadly, “I understood, when I chose to tell you all this, what it could mean.”
“But I would ask one thing more of you.”
“Anything.”
“Help Davian get these people to the Wilderness,” she said. “I’ll not have one more life lost in vain, not while I lead.”
“I will do what I can. Is there anything else?”
“No,” she said. “But we have been gone too long. We should go.”
Crenshaw gave her a cold nod and made to ascend the ladder ahead of her. Rejection was never easy—despite his claims to have expected it—and she suspected it dredged up his old memories of leaving Silent Thunder the first time, isolating himself from those he knew for more than a decade. Her shoulders slumped as he passed out of view and she whispered under her breath, “Sorry.”
Her final condemnation of his actions had been nothing more than a ruse. In fact, she trusted Crenshaw more now than she ever had before—and strangely, she understood his choice. She wasn’t certain she would have had the strength to do any different than him, if their positions were reversed.
But considering what she had to do, in that moment she would have pushed away even her own father. And since Crenshaw was now the closest thing to a father she had left, he would undoubtedly try to stop what she knew had to happen. She couldn’t let him anticipate her next move, no matter how much it hurt.
