by J. L. Lyon
She climbed the ladder, and by the time she reached the top Crenshaw had already passed into another room. Farewell, friend, she thought sadly. Thank you…for everything.
Grace made her way through the Command Center, surveying what her father had built with nostalgia. Even now, as it crumbled, she was proud of him. He had achieved what no one had thought possible, and staged a rebellion within the capital itself. Jacob Sawyer had given his life for what he believed in. How could she not do the same?
She arrived in the communications room, monitored now by only a single operative as the rest prepared for departure. He sat at the console sifting through data and watching for alerts, oblivious to her entry until she touched his shoulder. He jumped and whirled around as if to fight her off, and then upon seeing her, relaxed, “Commander! Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s okay, Lieutenant,” she said. “We’re all on edge. Anything to report?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head. “So far, we’re in the clear.”
“What news from the other centers?”
“Evacuations have begun,” he answered. “The smaller centers should have all their personnel transferred within the next few hours. It will take some of the larger locations more—”
An urgent beep sounded from the console and stole the lieutenant’s attention. Grace’s heart rate increased, “What is it?”
“The proximity sensor we placed on the path from Center 3,” he said, looking back at her with wide eyes. “It’s been tripped.”
“We have cameras watching that path, so I’ve been told,” Grace said, struggling to remain calm. “Bring up the feed.”
The lieutenant complied, and a video feed came to life above the console that showed the tunnel outside Center 3, tinted with the green of night vision.
“Back it up,” she ordered. “Show me what tripped the sensor.”
The feed rewound and displayed a single figure, and Grace barely suppressed a gasp.
“I have to go get the others,” the lieutenant rose. “We need to send someone in there to—”
Grace hit the young soldier in the back of the head as he passed her, and then did her best to catch him so that he didn’t slam his head on one of the nearby tables. “Sorry,” she whispered again, and let his body come to rest on the floor. She felt for his pulse…still strong. He would probably have a headache when he woke up, but he would be fine.
She stood up and ripped a piece of paper from the lieutenant’s notepad, which he had been using to take notes of all incoming transmissions. She scribbled a quick note on the torn slip, and placed it on the closest table. Then she unclipped Novus Vita and set it alongside the note. Where she was going, she wouldn’t need it.
29
301 MADE HIS WAY through the deep dark of the underground, hunched over next to the wall with a light rod trained on the burned line. It was not an easy path to follow, as Silent Thunder had done an excellent job in concealing it. Not only did he contend with darkness, but where possible the line had been hidden in crevices present in the concrete, along stretches blackened with mold, and moved up and down in the tunnel from the ceiling to the ground—whichever was most difficult to see. At times 301 thought he had lost track of the path, only to sigh with relief upon finding it again. There was advantage, however, in the limitations of the tunnel. Only at certain points did he come across forking paths. The rest of the time he remained confident that he was going in the right direction even if the line of ash was no longer visible.
Left in silence with nothing but his thoughts, 301 replayed the events of the past few months, hardly believing that the young lieutenant ambushed by Jacob Sawyer could actually have been him. If he met that man today he felt sure he wouldn’t even recognize him, and it surprised him to find that he no longer considered that a bad thing. In the hours that followed that fated encounter he should have died...but then again, maybe he had. There had been something monumental about the moment when Grace came into his life, a rebirth of sorts that he had never been able to recover from. She had awakened him to thoughts and feelings he never knew existed, showed him a world beyond the ordered control of the World System, and made him crave a chance to be more than what he was. And now, knowing who he once had been to her, she might hold the keys to unlock his memories as well.
He lost track of time, no longer certain if his journey had lasted thirty minutes or three hours, and began instead to measure his progress by the number of wide platforms he passed. He must have gone through three or four, all of their staircases sealed from the surface. Only the last one he passed had a ladder to the world above, and he pondered for a moment where it might lead. Not another Silent Thunder compound, for the burned line went onward right past it. It must have just been a regular access point. He journeyed on, trying to place exactly where in the city he might be. He had been heading south most of the way, with a couple of turns along the forks in the tunnels. Depending on how far he had walked, he could be near the city center by now.
His steps slowed as the light rod’s glow washed over something large in the tunnel ahead. The refracted light told him the object was made of metal and glass, probably as old as the tunnels themselves. Still, he knew caution was of utmost importance. If the line led back to the main rebel base it stood to reason that they would have some sort of security system: proximity charges, guards, any number of things to prevent unwanted visitors from stumbling upon them. But the rebel compound behind him had no such system, he reminded himself. The entrance had been innocuous, something a casual observer might simply overlook. Would they have taken that same chance with the main base? Whatever the case, he hadn’t come all this way to be killed based on misunderstanding.
Hand on Calumnior, he approached the object blocking the tunnel—undoubtedly the method of travel Derek had spoken of before. The black line ran past the odd-looking train despite there not being enough room for a man to pass through, and so the only way forward was to go inside.
The door had been torn off the train, and the interior seemed to swallow his meager light. He gazed into the chasm suspiciously, but he had come too far to turn back. He pulled himself into the train, casting the glow of the light rod quickly to reveal any threats. Nothing met his eye but empty seats and rusted poles, but he did not drop his guard. There were too many places where a clever trap might be concealed. His boots crunched on glass from the shattered windows, and he noted how strange it was to need windows on an underground train. Then, on his right, the tunnel suddenly disappeared; he had reached another platform.
Two double sliding doors stood open like a hole in the train, so he stepped back out onto the columned concrete structure to search for the presence of the line. But he had barely taken five steps before he heard that same crunching sound—boots falling on the glass inside the train. Having learned his lesson about rashly going for the kill, 301 drew his sidearm and whirled around to face the newcomer.
At first all he could see was a silhouette, but he knew her nonetheless. He lowered his weapon as she stepped out of the train onto the platform, emerging slowly into the light. “I have to say, 301, I thought I’d have to brave torture and death before seeing you again. I take it you found our landline?”
301 said nothing, frozen in place by the mere sight of her. The glow of the light rod cast her in a brilliant sheen of white, and she appeared like some otherworldly creature come down to display its glory to a realm of darkness. The extended silence gave her pause, and he knew she must be wondering what his reaction to her would be.
He gazed upon her, even more stunningly beautiful than that night in the palace courtyard, and felt as though he only now saw her for the first time. Grace Sawyer…his Grace Sawyer—not because of the tattoo that marked her so, but because he knew beyond doubt that he could never love anyone as much as he loved her in that moment. She had captured him, and he her.
Throwing caution to the wind, he surged forward and enveloped her in a passionate emb
race, pressing his lips firmly against hers before he could hesitate long enough to lose his courage. She resisted slightly at first, but he held on for dear life until her surprise melted into affectionate warmth. 301 had treasured that kiss on the night he freed her and thought he remembered its power, but in the face of this reunion he conceded that his mind could never do it justice. Only the experience could describe it, a tender bonding of two souls existing in a world all their own, without wars or doubts or the ghosts of the dead. For one brief period of time, life was paradise.
And then that paradise disappeared in a shadowy mist, two souls in union ripped apart as the real world crashed back in among them. It was only the end of a kiss, but to 301 it was so much more: the reminder that in the real world he was a monster unfit to hold such a wonder; unworthy to feel such joy. Grace continued to lean against him, unsteady, but when she looked up and met his eyes he could tell the world had struck her again as well. And it had made her afraid.
“Grace?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she whispered and wiped away a tear. “Moments like this just make me wish we had been born in a different time.”
301 took a step backward to get a better view of her, “None of that matters now. What matters is that we’re here, and we can finally be together.” He moved forward to kiss her again, longing to fall back into that paradise, but Grace pulled away from him and slid out of his arms. Shocked, he let his arms fall limp at his sides, cold with the loss of her warmth.
“We can’t be together, Eli. Not like this. Not if it means sacrificing Silent Thunder and the people of this city to Grand Admiral Donalson’s wrath. That’s why I want you to stop looking for them, and take me instead.”
301 paused, “Take you where?”
“To Napoleon Alexander,” she replied. “Once he has me there will be no reason for this senseless violence. I won’t have all those people out there suffering for me.”
“Don’t ask me to do that,” he said quietly. “If I take you back there, you’ll die.”
“I’m not afraid of death. What awaits me—”
“Oh, spare me the religious soliloquy, Grace!” he exclaimed. “This is not some fairy tale where you ride off to die in glorious battle and they tell stories about you for generations! You will be taken, you will be tortured, and then, yes, you will die. But it will not be glorious. It will not be the kind of story parents tell their children. You will be forgotten in five months.”
She flashed a brief smile, “Making it into stories means nothing to me. The lives of those people—they mean something. What else would you have me do?”
He stepped forward and started to reach for her, but stopped, fearing she might shrink from him again, “Leave the city with me. There’s nothing left for either of us here but death and ruin.”
For a moment her eyes alighted with joy, but then they became hard again, betraying her internal conflict, “Where would we go?”
“The Wilderness,” he said. “You lived there your entire life, and despite its dangers it sounds like a far better life than the one I’ve known. A place where we can be free of the World System, free of Silent Thunder…free to make our own futures!”
“And what about the people who will burn on the grand admiral’s pyres after I abandon the city?”
“You can’t save them,” 301 shook his head. “I know Donalson. He will not stop just because you’ve been captured. Your death will mean nothing.”
“You’re asking me to abandon everything I believe in,” she said, shaking her head. “All for an illusion. There is great wonder and beauty in the Wilderness, Eli, but freedom there only lasts as long as it takes the Great Army to find you. In the cities we are slaves to order, and in the Wilderness we are slaves to fear. There is nothing for us there, either, and there will be no true peace as long as Napoleon Alexander rules. Silent Thunder is the last thing standing between him and total victory, and I will not abandon them to flee selfishly into the Wilderness.”
“Yet you will sacrifice your life on the hope that Donalson will stop his purge,” 301 challenged. “Is that not abandoning them?”
She paused, “You know it is not the same.”
“What I know, Grace, is that Silent Thunder has already lost. From the moment your father announced the rebellion’s return there has been no doubt that the System’s superior force would eventually overwhelm you. You destroyed the Fourteenth Army, yes, but there are a hundred more armies lined up behind them—not to mention that up to this point you have only had to face ten Specters. In a month’s time there will be fifty, in another month two hundred, a thousand, until every soldier in the whole of the Great Army can wield a Gladius. You can’t save Silent Thunder any more than you can save the people in Donalson’s purge. The only person you can save is yourself. So please, come with me.”
Silence stretched between them for what seemed like an age. Grace set her gaze on the ground between them, clearly working out all the details in her head. He wanted to say more to sway her decision, but knew enough about her to stay quiet and let her figure it out on her own. It had to be her decision to stay or go, and it was enough that she was considering it.
Finally, she met his pleading stare with tears forming in her eyes, “Like I said, I wish we had been born in a different time. But we weren’t. This is our time. This is our moment. And there is more going on here than just me and you.” She moved into him and slid her arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love you, Eli. But I can’t go with you now, not even if I wanted to.” Her body grew tense against him and she whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry.”
“Step away from her, Captain.”
At the sound of the gruff voice 301 pulled away from Grace and turned back around to face the tunnel. There in the wide doorway of the train, lit by the very edge of 301’s light rod, stood Admiral McCall. Grace had been facing that direction and no doubt saw him approach. He turned his head to look at her and saw no surprise or shock—only determination. She had known he was being followed. This had been her plan all along.
That’s when he saw the others—shadows at first, but as McCall emerged from the train they came right behind him: all seven of the remaining Specters, including Derek Blaine. The most dangerous men in all the World System, and he had led them straight to the woman he loved.
How could he have been so careless? What if Grace hadn’t met him here, and he had led them all the way back to the base? All those people…his mistake might have killed them all. Perhaps that was the reason Grace had come in the first place: to stop him from exposing them to the World System. He cursed himself silently, seeking some way to salvage this colossal blunder. He couldn’t let them have her.
“Well done, gentlemen,” McCall announced as Specter fanned out and formed a wide ring around Grace and 301. “Let it never be said that the Specter Captain and Derek Blaine cannot accomplish the impossible.”
At first 301 was confused. Was the admiral actually congratulating him? But then he saw Derek’s face—a veritable portrait of apprehension and guilt—and knew: he had been played. Derek’s every action since the Communications Tower had been carefully orchestrated to lead to this moment. He had forgiven 301 for the events of that night, remaining in his trust, all in the hope that he would inadvertently lead them to Grace on his own. And so he had.
He surveyed the pool of light where his comrades stood at rigid attention awaiting their orders, until his gaze came to rest on McCall. “Your assistance here is not needed, Admiral. I have everything well in hand.”
“Your judgment is impaired, Specter Captain,” McCall replied. “You have been affected by the young lady’s deceptions, I’m afraid.”
301 winced. The admiral made it sound like Grace had manipulated him into this position. But he was not here because she had tricked him; he was here because there was no other person in the world he would rather be with.
But that does not change the fact that I was a fo
ol to lead them to her.
“Admiral,” he said. “I’m asking you, please don’t get involved.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. I cannot grant that request.”
301’s eyes narrowed, desperation rising within him like a storm, “Fine.” The light rod hit the ground as his Spectral Gladius flashed to life, increasing the tension on the platform tenfold. The sight of Calumnior’s fiery white presence poised against them put a spark of fear in every man that formed the circle, even the admiral himself. But it was not fear of death that the admiral felt, 301 knew that. It was fear that he might have to kill his prized trainee.
“Arm!” McCall yelled, and as his voice echoed back from the darkness the seven blades of his comrades came alight. Then McCall drew Amicus, surveying 301 with a cool gaze, “I see the battle plan forming in your eyes, Specter Captain. Even you must see there can be no victory.”
“Don’t do it, 301,” Derek pleaded. “You know this has to be done!”
“Listen to your partner, Specter Captain,” McCall urged. “You are not yourself.”
So that was it, was it? Derek had convinced them all that he had been tricked—fooled by the Elect the same way they had fooled Derek’s mother. In their eyes he was victim that needed to be saved, a friend whose mind had been overthrown. But that was not the truth of it, and he was willing to fight them all if only to prove that the choice was his own. “Men, I will only say it once. Deactivate your weapons, now!”
“I am superseding your order, Captain,” McCall said. “Specter is not yours…not yet.”
“Will you send the entire unit against me, Admiral? You know I will take most of them with me.”
“We are here to take our priority one target into custody. If we must use force, we will.”
