by Rebecca Rode
The guard stepped forward again, hand raised. I winced, but Chiu must have held out a hand to stop her because the blow never came. I dared to raise my head again.
Chiu held out his hand for Peak’s diary, which the guard retrieved from the ground and handed to him with a bow. She sent me a warning look before retreating to the back of the room.
Chiu thumbed through my great-great-grandfather’s diary for a moment, then paused at the name written the back cover. “Richard Peak. This was written by your founder’s hand. The record of a fallen people and their failure.”
Confusion swept through me at how much he knew. I felt queasy at the thought of this man dirtying my ancestor’s precious record. Somehow the thought of Chiu holding the book felt like a betrayal.
“I’ve heard of this man’s number system,” he murmured. “Perhaps his ideas would have succeeded had he researched it further. Our own social credit system preceded yours, but it ultimately ended in a fractured version of China. It took years of careful management to return China to its full glory.”
Social credit system. Richard Peak had mentioned that in his diary. Something about that girl hating the system she’d left, how they were assigned scores . . . Oh, fates. It hadn’t made sense then, but now I understood.
Peak wasn’t a genius. He’d simply stolen the Rating system from China half a world away.
I narrowed my eyes, but the man closed the book and set it aside. “Are you familiar with the dragon?”
I eyed the diary. It would take several steps to retrieve it, and the guard’s stunner would take me out before I got close. “Dragons? Uh, they’re mythical creatures. They breathe fire and destroy everything and everyone they come across.”
“Simple child. That is a Western view. Dragons bring luck, wealth, prosperity. You are too blinded by prejudice to see the world for what it is.”
He set down his cigarette and picked up a cup, then tipped it toward the guard. She hurried across the room, head down, and retrieved a small flask from a table. Then she poured a bit into a separate cup. To my surprise, she didn’t give it to him. She tilted it to her lips and drank. The Chinese president looked on with impatience.
After a few moments, he nodded and held out his cup again. She brought the flask over and refilled his cup. After a long sip, he set the cup down and faced me again. I met his gaze, bewildered by the exchange. Had he just forced his guard to test his drink before issuing a refill? What kind of man did that?
“China suffered under the economic tyranny of the Western world for centuries,” he began. “We created the world’s goods, yet our children still starved. Now that China has awakened, the nations of the world cower. We hold entire economies and governments in our hands. The Western countries have tried to curb our power, but we will be quieted no longer.”
I adjusted my aching knees and scanned the room. I could see where Ju-Long’s intensity had come from when he gave us that warning after the settlement battle. The Chinese official had predicted all this, warned Vance what would happen. And Vance had tried to warn me.
I hadn’t listened.
I swept the room. The only weapon in sight was the guard’s stunner, the one leveled at me right now, too far to reach. Her pocket bulged with my own stunner, but that would be even harder to steal. The woman’s face broke into a slow smile as if she knew what I was contemplating. Her eyebrow rose in challenge.
Chiu took another sip of his drink. “Your people are no threat to us, unequal child. You’re simply in the way of an inevitable transfer of power.”
“In the way?” I repeated. “But we’re peaceful. We’ve never done anything to deserve this. Why not make your stand in a different part of our continent and leave us alone? We can’t stop you.”
Guard Lady stiffened at my tone, and Chiu’s expression grew hard. “You have much to learn. An army needs three things: food, shelter, and weapons. We can ship weapons with little trouble, but it is much easier to take land where the other two already exist in plenty. Your cities are the most advanced left on the continent, with months of storage and treated water that counteracts what remains of your atmosphere’s ill effects.”
“You—you want our cities? Our food and water?” That was it? But it was so simple. “Then share our cities with us. Or give us a few weeks to evacuate. We’ll rebuild somewhere else, far away.”
“Your country is still and will always remain a Western nation—allied with Britain and the other convention fools. You will simply betray us, just as one of my commanders betrayed me when he confessed everything to you. He received a far quicker death than he deserved.”
Ju-Long. It had to be. How had they killed him? The man was locked away in Vance’s prison cell. I fought a surge of worry and tried to focus. “I still don’t understand why you’re here. You obviously lied to the convention about your intentions. Why go to all the trouble of pretending? Were you spying on me, trying to keep me from getting help?”
President Chiu’s mouth twitched, and the guard chuckled softly behind me. “You? Of course not. There was never a chance you’d rally others to your defense. Many of these leaders are still cleaning up from the last war. No, the queen’s third son has been trying to convince his mother to display a show of military power for some time now. I wanted to see the threat for myself. But after speaking with the prime minister, it seems that is unlikely. However strong the prince’s anti-Eastern passion, Britain’s most powerful leaders wish to remain neutral in any ongoing land disputes.”
I stared at him. This wasn’t happening. Ongoing land disputes? And Chiu had blatantly accused Augustus of conspiring to attack his country. The man was raving mad. Augustus was a little full of himself, but what would he have to gain from starting a war with the ECA?
I drew myself up, although I didn’t dare rise to my feet. My head still throbbed. “Prince Augustus may be a little unstable, but at least he’s not sending assassin drones to kill his enemies. That was a blatant attempt on my life.”
The amusement left his eyes, and his brow wrinkled in an expression that looked like confusion. “Again you accuse me of this. Help me understand your reasoning. Why would I kill the girl accusing me of trying to kill her? It would only bring more force to your accusations in the convention’s mind.”
I cocked my head, puzzled, and watched Chiu drink daintily from his cup. Even that small movement was careful, calculated. This was not a man who acted rashly.
Why fearlessly admit he was planning to attack my country and say my efforts here didn’t matter, then lie about trying to kill me? This man was a huge contradiction in many ways. Could it be that he was telling the truth? Had someone else sent that drone?
My death would have caused a stir in the convention, confirming that there was indeed some kind of threat. They would have immediately assumed it was Chiu, of course, and anti-Eastern sentiments among the people would have skyrocketed. An easy first step on the road to war with the ECA—a war Chiu didn’t want to happen yet. Not until he was positioned. Not until after he took NORA.
The realization trickled into my consciousness like stabbing, blinding flashes of light. Augustus’s late night in the pub and his strange reaction when I told him about the drone. His insistence on having his guards follow me around. His anger when I’d escaped under their noses.
Betrayal stabbed through me like a spear. I had danced with the man, trusted him with my life and the lives of my travel party. I’d accused Vance of being paranoid when he saw what I didn’t.
The British prince had tried to use me as a pawn to start a war.
“I see you understand now, unequal child. Unfortunately, the time for our chat has come to an end. I must oversee preparations for our departure tomorrow. Although any further accusations at the convention would do little for you, I can’t ignore the fact that you came dressed in black, bent on assassination.” He turned to Guard Lady. “Take her to my airship and secure her personally. Their . . . emperor”—a low chuckle escaped his
lips, as if the very word were ridiculous—“finishes the gathering as we speak. And tell Xun to get President Sokolov on the phone.”
The guard yanked me toward the door, and I stumbled after her, still in a daze.
My throat was tight. I’d been wrong—dreadfully, stupidly wrong. All of this had been for nothing.
My people were at the center of a war they hadn’t caused, and it was too late to do anything about it.
As the guard dragged me through the doorway, movement caught my eye outside the window—a head covered in shaggy black hair. Chan. He disappeared half a second later.
The docks were a short ride away. I held my breath in the transport, hoping an official would stop us or someone would notice, but the city was still and dark. I was on my own. I sent a silent plea to the fates to take care of my unconscious friends. The Chinese had left them tied up on the lower floor of Chiu’s residence. And Chan—well, at least he was safe. Hopefully he’d managed to warn the others, at the very least.
President Chiu’s aircraft was stationed with the hundreds of others above the docks, but was much larger than most. It had three levels of windows, large, powerful wings, and a sleek shape. The paint was obviously new but looked a dull silver, like the British ships, and was covered in a thin layer of dirt. They’d probably done that on purpose to help it blend in. Chinese workers in brown uniforms scurried about, checking panels and loading large plastic containers.
As unremarkable as the outside looked, the inside was spectacular—a sleek, clean white that smelled of new plastic. Guard Lady led me down a hallway and shoved me down a ladder, which was difficult to navigate with my arms locked behind me. I managed not to fall. We were obviously in the engine room now. A metal cell about two meters square sat near the front of the aircraft. Guard Lady released my wrists from their bonds and shoved me in, then tossed my bag in after me. The diary came tumbling out and landed on one side, its precious pages bent askew. She quickly secured the lock.
“Our Honored Dragon has decided to return your book,” she said, heading for the ladder. “He says it will teach you much.” Then she disappeared to the level above.
I reached for the diary with shaking hands and cradled it against my chest, wondering how much Chiu had read before losing interest. Not much, I guessed. Why would a dead man, the leader of a soon-to-be-dead society—especially one patterned after theirs—mean anything to him? We were just a step in his path, an easy civilization to conquer. In the way, he’d said.
My heart thumped in a half-panicked sort of way. I had to get out of here. Soon the sun would rise on another day. Finley and her guards would need my help getting free, and Jasper would be extremely concerned to find me gone. Vance needed to know what Chiu had said about Ju-Long. I still had to tell Maizel about Dresden’s negotiations so she could help prepare for Chiu’s attack. And Anton’s hidden tunnel still needed to be finished. If my people were caught unprepared and forced to flee into the desert with no supplies or shelter—I couldn’t bear to think about that.
“Their emperor finishes the gathering as we speak.” That could only mean Chiu had ordered Dresden to bring all the people in. He wanted us all in one place for a swifter extermination. How could Dresden not see that?
I rattled the lock, which of course wouldn’t budge. I tried kicking the bars and shaking the cell, but it was bolted to the floor. There was nothing useful within reach.
Footsteps sounded overhead, and there was the low hum of conversation. They were preparing the ship for departure.
“There’s got to be a way,” I stubbornly told the book in my arms. “I didn’t come all this way to watch this happen from a distance.”
The leather cover was worn from a century of use. Many fingers had handled this book, but one person in particular. Richard Peak, political genius and humanitarian. And thanks to this book, I knew something of the darkness he’d suffered. If he could pull a civilization out of the ashes, surely I could escape an airship.
I settled against the bars, opened the book, and thumbed forward a few pages.
Biyu’s gaze went soft, and she stared off into the distance, far past me. “The last group said the war was nearly over, that they’d mostly killed each other off,” she whispered. “What if this little group is all that’s left? If there’s nothing else out there, what will we do?”
“Survive,” I said firmly. “Find a safe place away from the sickness bombs and start over with whoever wants to join us. I’ll make sure everyone is safe and happy.”
“Leaders have been promising that for thousands of years, and it always ends up the same way. Always. How can you succeed where so many others have failed?”
That was only half-true. Biyu’s own country had been around for thousands of years, and they were thriving just fine. Her government had enough control that nobody dared speak against it. Maybe that’s where we’d gone wrong here in the U.S. Maybe we’d taken freedom too far.
“We’ll make sure everyone contributes,” I said. Not like Lyman, who hid in his cave and let everyone else do the work. “And those who don’t will be punished.”
Her voice was flat. “Rich, people don’t like living in fear. They don’t like being controlled and manipulated. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying I want you to come with me.”
She went silent.
“You’re right about the numbness. You’ve described it exactly. And the only way you could know so much about that is if you’ve been through it yourself. Did you really leave China for an education, or was there something else that drove you away?”
She flinched and wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the ground. “I don’t wish to talk about that.”
“We can mend together,” I told her softly. I lifted her chin so her eyes were level with mine. “We can find a better life out there, the one you came here for and the one you deserve. Please come.” I stepped forward and took her arm. She leaned in to my touch. Encouraged, I pulled her in against me and placed a hand on the small of her back. She was trembling.
I hesitated, but she came the rest of the way and wrapped her arms around me, lying her head against my chest. I closed my arms. For the first time in far too long, I felt warm.
Her shivering gradually stopped. I felt her chest rise and fall, her soft body pressing against mine. I placed a kiss on the top of her head and she released a gentle sigh.
It was there, with Biyu in my arms, that I felt the pain slip again. The internal lockbox was weakening. The darkness within lurched—struggling, writhing, building, wanting more than anything to escape like lava in the depths of a volcano. I mentally shoved it back in and slammed the lid closed.
This would have been a great time to kiss her again, but I wasn’t sure I could take it. Not with my emotions this close to the surface. If I released one, they would overwhelm me completely.
“You’re going to break into the cave,” she said. “Promise me you’ll take only what we need and leave the rest for the people here.”
“Absolutely.”
She went quiet for a moment, then pulled away to look up at me. Her eyes were wet with unreleased tears.
“Then my answer is yes,” she said against my chest. “I will come with you.”
My heart ached. I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth and flipped forward two pages, skimming the words. Richard had just broken into a cave to retrieve supplies for the trip only to find nothing left. The camp leader, Lyman, confronted him and revealed that he’d helped push the war and the destruction of their country along. My eyes locked onto the next passage.
I can’t explain what happened next. It’s like the box of emotions inside burst open, the anger and fear and terror of what was happening clamoring to escape. In an instant I was filled with indescribable rage.
I channeled my anger through Lyman’s weapon and pulled the trigger.
It would be nice tell you that I didn’t mean to do it, that it was a reflex,
an instinct warriors develop as a self-defense mechanism. But you and I both know that wasn’t it.
I wanted him dead.
I wanted him to bleed, to suffer. To fall at my feet and beg for mercy. And then I wanted to step on his face and fill him with even more bullets. Screaming filled the cave, barely audible over the sound of bullets hitting their targets.
At some point I think I knew my mind was a little loose. Long after Lyman had fallen to the ground and his body full of ammo, I turned the gun on the guards who stared with horrified expressions, frozen in place. I yelled and let the weapon release my anger once again. A few seconds and they were both on the ground, still as death.
My weapon eventually clicked. Empty. The cave was filled with the smell of salty, wet blood.
My breaths came short and quick, the anger and pain coursing through me like poison. Then I whirled and fled.
When I stumbled outside, the light stung my eyes and I shielded my face. It was quiet. Too quiet after the terrible noise in the cave.
“Rich,” someone said from behind a tree.
I whirled and raised my gun before seeing Biyu’s terrified face. She trembled in the cold with her jacket that was too thin, but there was something else in her eyes. Fear.
She knew. She had heard everything.
“I’ve got what we need,” I croaked. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go.”
“But Rich—”
“What?” I snapped, spinning to face her.
Her eyes were locked on my shirt. “Did you—kill them?”
I looked down at my shirt. Blood had sprayed the front, deep red against the gray fabric.
It reminded me of that military vehicle’s blood-splattered door. Every drop was still clear in my mind, etched into my memory as if in acid.
A shout went up from the direction of camp. Footsteps sounded on the hard, frozen ground as a dozen men and women jogged toward us. Two had weapons up, aimed casually at me. I scrambled at the box of ammunition in my pocket and quickly reloaded.
