Nemesis: Book Ten in the Enhanced Series

by T. C. Edge

  As soon as the lift sweeps to the hall, and opens out into the command centre, it does so. The endless noise is still rampant, perhaps even more than it was before. I send my gaze from corner to corner and see an undulating sea of bodies, flowing and rippling. There’s a growing desperation in the air, a growing commotion. My mind snaps fully awake. All lingering exhaustion is frightened off like a flock of skittish birds.

  To no surprise, I see Zander already awake. He doesn’t have clean clothes like me. I doubt he even took them off to sleep. He’s in brisk conversation with our grandmother, and I notice that Commander Burns is there too, summoned from the front lines to help form a plan. I wasn’t summoned from my sleep, however. It tells me just where I rank in the scheme of things.

  I prepare to set off towards them, but find myself accosted by the sight of Adryan rushing over. His eyes have grown darker over the last few hours. As I slept, it would appear no one else here did. And what exactly have I missed?

  He reaches me quickly as I stand outside the lifts. His first question, as it usually is, concerns how well I slept.

  “Good. Fine,” I say. “I’m refreshed. Ready to work. What’s going on, Adryan?” Then Drum marches into my head. Above all other concerns, I’d like to know about him. “Did you find out about Drum?”

  My eyes widen. I lean in to make sure I hear him just fine. I hunt down any change in his expression and feel some relief at what I see. A half smile, telling of the good and the bad.

  “Yes. He’s fine, Brie. As you say, he’s in the southern quarter. Though…not at the central blockade anymore.”

  “Oh? He’s back from the lines?” I ask, hoping but not expecting.

  “Sort of. As far as I know, he’s helping cover the lanes and alleys in the eastern districts of the inner southern quarter.”

  “Right. So, away from the main fighting?”

  I imagine where he is is similar to how we found Titus. Covering various possible entry points, but generally away from the more dangerous areas.

  “He is. Though, the Cure have made some advances. The central blockades have been abandoned. All units have now withdrawn to the inner blockades.”

  My brows crawl over my eyes and pinch inwards.

  “Hmmm…that’s not good. I did think the fighting was closer. It sounds closer…”

  “It is closer.”

  “But how did we lose position?” I ask. “I don’t get it. We were holding them off easily before.”

  “We were, but more reinforcements came several hours ago.”

  “More reinforcements! But Zander and I…we saw a whole battalion coming from the outerlands only yesterday.”

  “Seems that wasn’t the last of them. Your brother’s over there with Lady Orlando and Commander Burns. They’ll fill you in on the rest. I need to get back. We’re monitoring Stalker chatter right now.”

  “And? Anything?”

  “About Cromwell?” He shakes his head. “No.”

  “And Colonel Hatcher? Did you take my advice and isolate him?”

  “That plan remains an option. Colonel Hatcher hasn’t slept all night. He’s been almost constantly on his radio here in the command centre. I’ve had my eye on him, as have others.”

  “And he hasn’t seemed suspicious at all?”

  “Not at all. He has done nothing but a sterling job, quite frankly, given his injuries and obvious fatigue. He’s been up for days now without rest. He will need it sooner or later.”

  “Perfect time to put my plan into action, if needed, then,” I suggest.

  Adryan nods but says nothing. Clearly, he has no doubts about the colonel himself.

  He leaves me there, leaning in with a peck to my cheek before washing away into the crowd. I turn my attention to the brains trust over in the rear corner, slightly removed from the busiest action at the centre of the hall and with Marler standing by as protection. It appears there are another couple of soldiers hovering around too, clearly with instructions to ensure their safety.

  I hurry on over, focusing on Zander as I arrive. Now that I’ve been washed and dressed in clean garments, the contrast between us is quite severe. His hair remains a clotted, stinking mess, his face partially wiped clean but nothing else. It appears he didn’t have the time or inclination to improve his appearance, or smell, in any other way. Were it not for Adryan’s help, neither would I have thought to do so.

  Still, it’s not his putrid clothes and unwashed hair that I look at. He’s been like that for days, and it doesn’t interest or bother me. What does is the look in his eyes. And the look I see as I step towards him is the very one I want.

  He looks alert once more, and refreshed. There’s still a web of red capillaries in the whites of his eyes, but they’re faded and less clear. He will have slept a few hours at least. Enough to refill his physical tanks and sharpen up his keen mind. I don’t need to ask him whether he got enough rest. I can see he got enough.

  Instead, I’m greeted with the question myself. It’s my grandmother who does the asking.

  “Brie, you’re here. You slept OK?”

  “Good. Fine,” I say, just as I did to Adryan. “No one woke me…”

  My tone whistles with a hint of rebuke. It’s not anger, but disappointment. I don’t want to miss a beat.

  “You needed the rest,” says Zander. “Adryan set an alarm clock beside your bed. It would have woken you soon.”

  “Well, no matter now. I woke up naturally. What have I missed?” I turn to Commander Burns, and smile. “Morning, Leyton,” I say.

  He drags a weary smile to his lips in return.

  “Good morning, Brie.”

  “Well, you’ve missed a bit, actually,” says Zander. “The Cure are advancing, they’ve taken the…”

  “Central blockades,” I say. “And we’ve retreated to the inner positions. Yeah, Adryan just told me. Something about reinforcements?”

  “In all quarters, yes,” says Commander Burns. “We were afraid of being overwhelmed, so withdrew to tighten up our defences. We’re holding them off for now.”

  “And any idea of numbers? How many reinforcements were there?” I query.

  “Exact figures are unknown,” says Burns. “They attempted to siege the eastern quarter with their largest force. That’s where we’re currently weakest. They were trying to break through the lines and overwhelm us there, but owing to the fading mist, and the disabling of those sonic machines, we were able to see and hear them coming, and send reinforcements to bolster our defences. We have you two to thank for that. And Colonel Hatcher too.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I say. “And where is the colonel?”

  “Having his dressings changed in the infirmary. He may be taking a short rest too. The man’s been run off his feet.”

  “So I hear. And the latest on that?”

  “In development,” I’m informed by my brother. “Titus was true to his word and quick to speak with Commander Burns.”

  “Yes, I got wind of what you’d found quite quickly. Then when Lady Orlando called me, I made arrangements to return here to speak properly.”

  “And you’ve been making plans?” I ask.

  “Less plans,” says Lady Orlando. “More spreading the word. All loyal unit commanders are now up to speed with what’s going on. They are ready to retreat behind our lines when ordered.”

  “Without Cromwell loyalists in tow, I assume?” I say.

  “Yes, though it may be difficult,” says Commander Burns. “For only our own loyalists to pass the gates, that means informing our own soldiers while keeping Artemis’ people in the dark. That isn’t simple, and takes time. In battle, it’s usually the officers who are kept in the loop, and who merely pass orders to all the men under their charge at once. Our men, and Cromwell’s men, are all mingled together right now. It’s very hard to ensure that we spread our whispers without them hearing.”

  “And there’s another issue,” says Zander. “Simply the fact that we cannot yet confirm Cromw
ell’s duplicity. Until we do, it would be a massive decision to abandon his men. They have fought and died by our side for days. Right now, we are aligned.”

  “So…it’s a real mess then?” I say.

  “That’s putting it lightly,” grunts Zander. “And these Cure reinforcements are muddying things even more. We have no choice at the moment but to continue to fight with Cromwell’s forces. We have to deal with the primary threat first, while keeping our eye on the rest. Believe me, Brie, we’re not going to get caught napping by him, OK.”

  He smiles to reassure me, or perhaps placate me. He can probably sense my blood boiling.

  “And what’s happening now? Who’s in command out there while you’re here, Commander Burns?”

  “I left Rycard in charge in the western quarter. We have plenty of very competent people well dispersed throughout the inner ring of Outer Haven. I will oversee things from here for now, just as Colonel Hatcher is with his own people.”

  “And what about Freya? Wasn’t she commanding a large force in the north or something?”

  Zander’s left eye flickers. He looks at me and shakes his head.

  “She was,” he says sombrely. “Freya fell several hours ago. She’s dead, Brie.”

  I feel a lurch in my gut. I barely knew the white-haired half-Brute, but I liked her all the same. She, like Magnus, was mighty and proud, one of the strike team to take down the High Tower. Now she’s gone, like Beckett, like Kira. There was another man involved in that mission, Quinn, who never made it back to the church outside the city. And Astor, too, the skilled sniper, who had his arm badly injured, and who’s probably dead now as well.

  Who’s left? Just Zander and Rycard and Marler now, the only ones remaining from that raid. One by one, they’ve been killed or captured. One by one, they’ve been taken from us.

  It’s like a curse, chasing all involved through the streets. Like there’s some spectre hanging over all of them, bony fingers reaching out to snatch them up, draw them beneath the dirt. Are they being punished for what they did? Are we all?

  I look at Zander again, and imagine the dirt on his body as soil over a corpse. I imagine his bloodshot eyes fading, their shine taken away. I imagine him, lying flat, sucked down into the darkness by this spectre, this wraith, taking him away from me.

  Forever.

  I shut my eyes, scrunching them hard, and dismiss the thought. I feel a hand lower to my shoulder, bony and wretched, and think the curse is coming for me. Then I open my eyes and see my grandmother before me, the chief architect of the High Tower’s demise.

  “I’m sorry about Freya,” she whispers. “She was a fine warrior and soldier. She will be missed, but never forgotten.”

  She smiles and hugs me, thinking my anguish to be about the half-Brute. It isn’t. It’s about them all. One by one, they’ve fallen.

  And I’m terrified that my brother will be next.

  13

  As soon as I’m updated on the latest developments, my personal importance within the command centre fades quite sharply. I have little influence here, little purpose. I don’t command anyone or send orders down the line. I am a soldier, not a leader. I’m wasted here.

  My brother knows it, and though he’s quite capable of determining strategy and managing affairs from here, he’s a warrior first and foremost. I know it’s only a matter of time before he heads back out there. And, though he’d probably prefer to see me safe here for now, he’ll know full well I won’t be leaving his side.

  I can’t leave his side…

  As the meeting goes on, and my contributions diminish, the first signs of dawn begin to appear beyond the large double doors. Closed overnight to keep out the cold, the main entrance is now opened up to set some natural illumination to the room. A sweep of air glides in and refreshes the place, and I search out towards the streets beyond and note that the sky is blue and the morning bright, as so many mornings are. I doubt very much that it will stay that way.

  The noise from around the city seems to set into a lull too. As is the case in any battle, the fighting isn’t always continuous. Peaks and troughs are common as the two sides seek to find advantage over the other. Right now, perhaps, the Cure are working towards a new plan to smash through our lines somewhere and enclose our forces. I imagine that it’s a standard battle tactic to employ.

  Still, I don’t hear anyone saying it, so suggest it to the small group. I’m greeted with a collection of polite nods, as if what I’ve said is the most obvious thing in the world.

  That’s why it wasn’t being mentioned. It didn’t require voicing.

  Feeling slightly foolish, I let my mind seek a way to make it up. Then a thought comes to me. Probably equally witless, but worth a shot.

  “Why don’t we turn the tables against them?” I ask.

  Those polite smiles reappear.

  “How so?” asks my grandmother, humouring me.

  “Well, as we know, they’re concentrating their main forces at the blockades, right? As you said, Zander, last night with Titus, they’re here to kill us, man, woman and child. To do that they have to defeat our best soldiers first, right? So, they’re attacking us where we’re strongest, which seems dumb to me, but there you go…”

  “Yeah,” says Zander. “They have been trying to breach our defences elsewhere too, you realise? We’ve had multiple reports from all quarters about smaller units testing us down the lanes and alleys. With our sentry guns and the narrow width of the streets, they’re little more than killing zones for them. We heard all that from Titus.”

  “Sure, we have the flanks well defended. That’s kinda my point.”

  “I’m not seeing it,” says Zander.

  “Well, they’re testing us all the time, but we’re not testing them. We’re just sitting back and waiting for them to attack, taking out however many soldiers we can, and holding firm. It’s a negative tactic.”

  “It’s a smart tactic,” argues Zander. “Our strategies are very different because our goals are different. We are here to defend the people and weaken the enemy to the point where they withdraw. They are here to destroy us, down to the youngest child. We are operating based on a host of factors here, and so far our defence has held up well.”

  “Until their reinforcements came,” I say bluntly. “Now we’re on the back foot again. And, if we hadn’t got rid of the smoke and that endless racket, we might well have been defeated already. I’ll remind you that I came up with that plan. Why aren’t you listening to me now?”

  I set my point out passionately, but without letting my emotions come to the boil. I find Commander Burns and Lady Orlando smiling, their altered expressions clear in my advanced peripheral vision. Yet I keep my gaze directly on my brother. His lips don’t curl, but he does dip his head into a brief, conceding nod.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Go ahead, Brie,” he says.

  I’m given the floor again. Suddenly my mind seems to go rather blank, my plan seeming extremely basic. And it is, really. Basic and probably foolhardy, just like the plan to head out to the outerlands and attack. I know I’m no military expert or master tactician. But I trust my gut, and it’s telling me we can’t just sit here and defend forever.

  “Um, right,” I say, stuttering a little. “So, as I was saying, they’re trying to work through our flanks, find a weak spot to exploit. They did it all around the perimeter wall, and stretched us thin. Eventually, they broke through. If we go on like this, that’s sure to happen again, especially now their numbers are bolstered.”

  Zander opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it just as fast. I quickly go on before he can interrupt.

  “So, just like before, we’re on the back foot. We need to strike. I’m thinking we gather up some strike teams, bigger ones this time, and flank them ourselves. We control the alleys. We know the streets. We can work through behind them, strike hard and fast, and take out as many as we can.”

  I look to the group, one after another, as I speak, seeking some p
ositive signs as I lay out my rudimentary plan. They look at me passively, though intrigued.

  Then Commander Burns speaks.

  “A fine idea, Brie,” he says, “and one we’ve considered. However, it’s risky. We don’t currently know how well their own flanks are protected. We don’t want to send our best soldiers into a shooting gallery.”

  “No, I get that. Risky, definitely. But, we have some idea about their flanks. Last night, when Zander and I came back into the city, we didn’t pass many of their soldiers. They had no protection in the alleys, no cover at the rear. If we’d have wanted, we could have marched straight behind their lines and attacked. The only fight we had was with Titus and his men and the sentry guns in the lanes. Again, I’m no expert, but it doesn’t look like they’re doing much to cover their flanks at all…”

  “Hubris,” remarks Lady Orlando quietly.

  “I’m sorry, Cornelia?” says Burns, looking to her.

  “Hubris,” she repeats. “The Cure appear to be rather overconfident, to the point of making them potentially vulnerable. I don’t imagine they’ve sieged a city like this before…”

  “That’s what Zander said!” I blurt out. I turn to him. “Last night, you said that with Titus. You said they were inexperienced at sieging a city like this.”

  “Yeah, I believe that,” he says. “And you’re right. Their flanks were exposed when we returned last night. It’s possible we’ll be able to flank to their rear and attack without them knowing. If we could coordinate a joint attack at all main blockades in each quarter, we could go a long way to disabling them.”

  My face lights up.

  “So, it’s a good plan?” I ask.

  I look around the group. Again, Lady Orlando and Commander Burns smile.

  “It’s a good plan,” says my grandmother.

  “But,” comes Zander’s voice again. “It’s dangerous too. For it to work, we’d need our best men, leaving the blockades at risk. And, should our concerns about Cromwell prove accurate, we’d be sending our most powerful soldiers further from the walls of Inner Haven. We lose them, and we’d have no chance at all if Cromwell turns on us.”