by J. L. Lyon
“So I began to seek out your father and General Crenshaw, not knowing if they were alive but hoping it was so, to come up with a way to use my position to bring Alexander down from the inside. But another man found me first. A powerful man…a dangerous man, who made me his Right Hand and set the resistance into motion. He helped me find Crenshaw, and then your father, adding layer upon layer to an operation centered around one incredible truth.”
“That Elijah Charity was alive, and you would make him the next MWR,” Grace finished.
“Yes,” McCall nodded. “I see Crenshaw has told you our endgame.”
“A game in which you have played God with men’s lives.”
“Perhaps,” he admitted. “But sometimes a lesser evil is necessary to conquer a greater.”
“No evil should be embraced, whatever the reason.”
“Something your father would say,” McCall said, lips thin with displeasure. “A noble but naïve vision, Commander. Nothing is ever so black and white. Hundreds if not thousands have died as a result of Grand Admiral Donalson’s purge—an event that would not have happened if Silent Thunder had never returned to the city. If you knew in the beginning that all those innocent people would die, would you still have fought this war?”
“I could not have known—”
“But if you did,” McCall said forcefully. “Would it have changed anything?”
“No,” she said. “But I did not make a conscious decision that led to that end! Your friends in the Republic have knowingly used all of us as pawns! How long have you known about Eli? What else might you have done to save him? And all the brave men who died in these three attacks…how many of them might have lived if they knew they were only pieces in your game?”
“We are all pieces in a game, Commander,” McCall said. “Civilization’s game, played over and over again from the dawn of time. The World System, the Republic, the Shadow Soldier, you, and me—we all have our place in that game, but at this moment yours and mine have come together for a chance to turn the tide.”
“How might we do that?”
“There are many reasons I kept my identity secret from your father and Crenshaw, but chief among them was the chance that my skills would one day land me back in Alexandria.”
“So why now?” Grace asked. “Why reveal your identity to me?”
“Because after today it will no longer matter,” McCall smiled. “As I said before, all of the plans of the last decade have been in preparation for this day. You see, Commander Sawyer: I have stood by as men have been used in this game of ours, I won’t deny that. But the difference between me and men like Napoleon Alexander is that I’m not afraid to be the one to make the sacrifice when my time comes.”
“So what is it that you want me to do?” she asked.
“I need you to provide a distraction in the Crown Section and draw the guards away from the MWR’s quarters where I am about to take you.”
“Why?”
“Because,” his eyes narrowed with fiery determination. “Today is the day I kill Napoleon Alexander.”
36
301 NODDED CASUALLY AT the tower guard as he passed through the palace defense ring, continuing on foot into the courtyard for the last leg of his long walk. By now his face was recognizable to even the lowest Great Army soldier, so there were no questions as to where he had been or why. The tower commander had informed him of a summons from the MWR, which came as no surprise. With Grace in custody and him supposedly responsible, the MWR would want to congratulate him personally.
He declined to take a vehicle, as every few minutes he flashed back briefly to a memory of the past. Better that he stumble or fall on foot rather than wreck an armored car. The episodes would make him appear drunk to an onlooker, but he didn’t care. As he gazed up at the palace he could only think of two things: staying tethered to his present reality, and finding a way to get Grace out of there alive. He made his approach from the southwest, shadows of the gold spike on the southern arm and the gothic cathedral on the west stretching almost to the place where he walked. But if Grace still lived she would be in the dungeons beneath the Crown Section pillar, a structure he now looked upon with disdain. That his sweat and blood had been spent to preserve the home of his mother’s murderer in that pillar irked him to no end. One day Napoleon Alexander would pay…and pay dearly.
But first, Grace.
A vision of her blue green-eyes in the face of a young girl flashed before his eyes. He stumbled, but snapped back before he fell on his face. He shook it off and walked on, gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists as if that might ward off the effects of defragmentation. But four strides later another came, this one new, of a man standing over him holding a Gladius with a crystal casing—just like the one he carried now at his back.
He froze, knowing who the man in that vision must be: his father, Jonathan Charity. It was the first time he had seen a memory of the man, and he couldn’t help but want more. He had regained a sense of his mother, but when it came to his father everything was still a blur. He continued walking, wishing that his father’s blade held some power with which he might free Grace. But Pax Aeterna was just a sword like any other, important only because of its history.
The only thing standing between Grace and certain death was the hope that he could manage some miracle to deliver her…but with every flash back to his past he feared that his mind might soon be overthrown. If he could only hold it together long enough to see her safely away, he didn’t really care what happened to him. Everyone dies, he thought. I might as well go down for something I believe in.
But he would not go down alone. Whatever the outcome of this rescue attempt, those who stood against him would taste the fire of Pax Aeterna. And before all was said and done, the World System would bleed.
-X-
Grace walked down the hallways of the Crown Section with a firm countenance, her hands bound behind her back. Hateful stares followed her as she approached the doors to Napoleon Alexander’s chambers, but she refused to look downcast or defeated. She held her head high and even managed a confident smile for their entrance.
McCall played his part well in leading her to the gallows, as she knew he would. The man had managed to fool everyone in the World System for more than a decade, and would not falter now. She hoped he survived this ordeal long enough to be redeemed in the eyes of his former Silent Thunder comrades. Unfortunately, the chances of that—even if his mission succeeded—were slim.
The golden doors opened and he urged her forward, whispering low in her ear, “This is it, Commander. Remember the plan, and God be with you.”
And with you, she wanted to say.
Napoleon Alexander sat up straight in his chair and flashed a victorious smile upon their entry, “Thank you, Admiral. I can take it from here.”
Grace looked back at him, encouraged by the concern she saw in his eyes. This, he had warned, would be the most difficult part for her. But Alexander must be lulled even further into a feeling of safety, for pride would be his only undoing. McCall gave her a barely noticeable nod, and departed. She felt sad as she watched him go; they would probably never see one another again in this life.
The doors clicked shut and she turned her attention to Napoleon Alexander, who rose slowly from his seat and eyed her with a lewd interest. “The spitting image of your mother,” he said, spitefully reminiscent. “Like the taste of something wonderfully bitter and sweet at the same time.” He walked casually around the desk to stand in front of her, words dripping with cruel sarcasm, “I was there the night she died giving birth to you, you know. Such a sad, sad night. As it so happens, that was the very same night I envisioned the World System and counted what it would cost to conquer a world.”
“Apparently you didn’t hold your soul in high regard.”
Alexander’s expression soured, “I see you are your father’s daughter…and is that a bit of Lauren Charity I sense as well? Tell me: how did it feel for you the
day she died?”
“I lost many things that day.”
“And I took them from you.” The MWR stepped close enough for her to smell his sickly sweet cologne, “I bet you wanted to kill me then.”
“I was five,” Grace replied. “So no, that wasn’t on my to-do list.”
“And now?” he asked. “Hate is just another form of passion, my dear. So you must admit that at least part of your passions are dedicated to me, even if only for my destruction.”
“I won’t shed a tear for you, I promise you that.”
“Not very forgiving of you.”
“We all have our faults,” she said dryly.
“You talk of patience and self-control,” Alexander said. “But deep down you know that you’d give anything to exact vengeance upon me for all the pain I’ve caused you. For killing a woman you loved as a mother, uprooting you from your home and making you a refugee all your life. And then of course there is your father, fool that he was to challenge me yet again.”
Grace kept her calm, “There are more important things, Alexander, than vengeance. You will pay dearly for all the evil you have unleashed upon the world. You know the God I serve; he is sovereign, even over you.”
Alexander laughed, “After all the things you have seen in your lifetime and all the pains you have suffered, can you really still believe that an all-powerful God holds the fabric of this universe together? And that—even if he does—he cares anything about you? You Christians are worthless, telling the world to look toward an eternal future and a loving God, all the while forgetting to pursue the great glory of mankind! You are a disease of our race, and the time has come for you to be purged.”
“You care nothing for mankind,” Grace challenged. “All you have ever been concerned with is the legend of Napoleon Alexander. You would do well to remember that many men across the ages have thought as you do. Their empires and kingdoms have fallen, and we still stand.”
“Change is coming, my dear. Never assume something that always was, always will be.”
Grace breathed out an impatient sigh, “Am I to be interrogated, or do I have to endure this torture all day?”
“There will be no interrogation,” Alexander said. “You will die in the Central Square tonight. Death by burning, just like Lauren Charity before you. And in death, Miss Sawyer, you will not bring glory to your cause or to your God. You will glorify the System and perish as a testament to its power.”
Despite her shock that the sentence would be carried out so swiftly, Grace refused to show fear. “When God welcomes me into his kingdom tonight, he will tell me for whose glory I gave my life.”
“Such a misguided child,” Alexander stepped closer to her. “You look to this unknown, unseen God for strength, and I can’t help but wonder if it is because you have never known true power.” His hand came up slowly to stroke her cheek, “You are a beautiful woman, Commander Sawyer. I could offer you a new path—a life of luxury and contentment, filled with all the riches and glory you can imagine. I could make you the most powerful woman in the world.”
Grace retreated from Alexander’s touch with disgust, “Don’t even make me waste my breath on an answer.”
The MWR smiled, “My dear girl, do you really believe you can deny me? If I want something, I have every right to take it!” He reached out to grab her, but she backed out of his reach.
“Don’t you touch me!” She moved further away from him, but in a moment she would reach the door and have no place else to go. Okay, she thought. That’s enough. She struggled with the bindings on her hands, and nearly descended into a panic…she couldn’t get free! McCall had promised her that he wouldn’t tie them securely!
Alexander moved toward her with slow, taunting steps. “I can see now why the grand admiral was so loathe to give you up to the Specter Captain. He asked me for a go at you before you were officially transferred to the Shadow Soldier, did you know? I can’t blame him. What man wouldn’t risk everything to call such an exquisite creature his own?”
“A man not enslaved to his desires,” Grace snapped. “A good man.”
Alexander laughed as she backed into the golden doors. “There are no good men, as you’ll soon see.”
“I’m warning you, Alexander…”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the doors, the smell of him violating the very air she breathed. “Wake up, foolish girl! You’re at the mercy of the most powerful man on the planet—in his chambers, at his stronghold, in the very center of the most guarded city in the world. Scream or cry for help, and though the people outside may hear you, they won’t come to your aid. They exist at my beck and call, and for fear of me they have absolutely no concern for you. No one is coming to save you.”
Grace pulled at the bindings again, to no avail. Her sense of alarm grew as the truth of Alexander’s words hit her hard, and her strength nearly gave out. There was nothing she could do to escape. She was totally at his mercy.
Alexander watched with a sickening smile as her confidence melted, “Is it becoming clearer to you now, my dear? This helplessness you feel—this inability to escape my will—that is how the entire world will feel once Silent Thunder is gone. Once they realize there will be no deliverance from my power, no shelter from my decrees…they will feel as you do: lost and alone, without a prayer of rescue. And you have made this possible. It is because of you that Silent Thunder will fall.”
Grace remembered Lauren Charity’s words, and a passionate flame returned to her eyes, “The sun will still rise tomorrow.”
Alexander looked as though she’d pierced him through the chest. Then a wave of fury overcame him and he pushed her harder against the door, “Enough talk. It’s time for me to take what is mine.”
“I will never be yours!” She shifted her hands behind her back and suddenly—she was free.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Alexander smiled. “You might even enjoy it.” His face was no more than an inch from hers when her hand shot up and struck his left cheek with such force that he took a few strides backward, crying out in pain and clutching his cheek like a wounded animal.
Grace watched long enough to see that she had drawn blood, and then grabbed the handle on the door behind her. She pulled with all her might, making a crack wide enough for her body to slip through.
“No!” Alexander screamed, hand still pressed to his face. “Stop!”
But she did not heed him. She burst into the hallway, and if she wasn’t in such an emotional frenzy she might have laughed. The guards looked at her with confusion, then looked at one another as though to confirm what they were seeing. The aide behind the desk to the left froze in utter terror, and for a brief moment the hallway stood suspended in awkward hesitation.
Then Alexander’s howling voice cut angrily through the air, “Fools! Stop her or it’ll be you I send to the Central Square tonight!”
Grace bolted. The guards sprang into action after her, but luckily they weren’t as quick on their feet. She had a good lead, though that might not matter considering the hallways in the Crown Section were short and provided only so far to run. She heard the aide scream into her phone, “All palace personnel, be on alert! The rebel Grace Sawyer is loose in the palace!”
Grace rounded a corner and saw the door right where McCall had said it would be. Taking into account that it led outside—and she was near the top of the Crown Section pillar—she slammed her hand on the red button beside it. Alarms began blaring as the emergency door slid open, and rush of high-altitude air washed over her. She stepped through the door onto a metal staircase, and looked down. The black stairs spiraled down to the main section of the building. Then she looked out over the courtyard to the defense centers and the rest of the city beyond. It was a long shot, but if she could make it past the guards then she might have a chance.
She descended quickly, knowing the odds of a successful escape were almost nonexistent. But escape was not her goal; she was only
the diversion. Grace heard the clang of boots on metal as the guards above came out onto the stairwell, and to her horror she felt more coming up from below. She was trapped. In a few seconds they would have her, and it would be back to the clutches of Napoleon Alexander. Faced with that possibility, she knew one thing for certain:
Death would be far better.
-X-
Alexander reached into his desk drawer for a cloth to wipe the blood from his cheek. Insolent girl, he thought. When they bring her back I’ll show her why no one defies me. And they would bring her back, there was no doubt. She might have escaped once, but she would not do so again. He smiled as he imagined all the ways he would make her pay.
And then, suddenly, the lights in his office went dark. He looked up at them suspiciously, That’s never happened before. It was still early, and without lights he was plunged into darkness. He turned to the window behind his desk and watched as the blackout spread beyond the palace to the entire city. Block-by-block, all of the lights in Alexandria went out, leaving only a canvas of black shapes against the bluing eastern sky.
He had never seen anything more eerie or disturbing.
The door clicked and his anger burned, prepared to rail on someone for this colossal failure of his supposedly perfect infrastructure. But instead the golden doors opened to reveal the dark form of Admiral McCall, who strode into his quarters without ceremony or respect.
“Admiral,” Alexander said in exasperation. “Don’t you have an execution to prepare for?”
He drew Amicus, “As a matter of fact, I do.” The blade came to life in a white flash, and McCall held it confidently at his side. “In the name of the free peoples of the world, I declare your rule at an end.”
