“The others won’t speak of his death,” Avril told her. “It’s their way, death is a reality. It should be forgotten.”
There was a hidden question there. Avril didn’t want to ask directly, but she did want to know. Mira looked the girl in the eye and told her what she wanted to hear.
“He died well,” Mira said. “Fighting a great foe, against insurmountable odds. He was victorious, and he died saving us all.” The death she described was the greatest a Helix warrior could hope for. It was also the truth.
Avril nodded, absorbing the words. Judging by the emotion the girl struggled to keep down, it wasn’t easy to hear.
“His last thoughts were of you,” Mira said further. “He started to give me a message for you, but…”
“He said I would know,” Avril answered for her, smiling slightly.
The girls stared at one another with mutual respect. Their lives had branched off months ago, and in some ways they had each taken the other’s places. Mira assumed a role of prominence in the Helix, and Avril had helped keep Holt alive. It was an odd thing to reconcile.
“Will you be Shuhan again?” Mira asked. “Dasha leads them, but hasn’t taken the title.”
“No,” Avril said almost instantly. Her eyes glanced at the star tattoo on her left hand. “My path is different now. It’s not one I’d have chosen before, but … it’s funny where life takes us. And the Helix may not have a Shuhan, but that’s because they have you. They see your strength.”
Mira sighed. “I wish I was half as strong as everyone seems to think.”
Avril studied her back, understanding, perhaps. “We waste too much time wishing we were something we aren’t. Everyone has their flaws. It’s only when you accept everything you are—and aren’t—that you finally succeed.”
It was a nice sentiment. “Gideon?”
“Something my father taught me.”
Mira stared back in surprise, but said nothing.
There was movement below, and both girls turned. Holt and Max were climbing the walkway, and the sight caused Mira’s pulse to quicken.
Avril watched him come closer. “What he went through to get here would have broken most men. Instead, he … inspired everyone around him. He finished Ravan’s tattoo, but he didn’t take the star. That was his choice. Whatever occurred between Holt and Ravan, you were the reason for that choice. Even when he thought you were gone.”
Mira stared at Avril, unsure how to feel, but she was grateful for the words.
When Holt reached the top he stopped in surprise. “Sorry,” he said. “I can come back.”
“No, we’re done,” Avril told him. “See you in an hour.” As she passed by, she touched his arm fondly, and then began her descent back down.
Holt and Mira stared at one another, the first time they’d been alone since the Menagerie arrived. There was a strange mix of tension and sadness in the air. It was not the reunion either had imagined back at Currency.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
Max moved toward Mira, tail wagging, and she rubbed the spot between his ears. Holt smiled. “You took really good care of him. Thank you.”
“He’s not all bad.”
“She was here about Dane?” Holt asked.
“There wasn’t much to say, sadly.”
Holt moved next to her, where he could see the ruins and the Citadel and the battle. “Dresden told me about the rail yard. It sounds … horrible. I’m sorry.”
Mira stared down at Holt’s hand. The tattoo stood out prominently, glistening in his skin. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t.
“We’ve both been through a lot,” she finally said. “I heard how she died. Olive told me. She gave up everything for you.”
Holt was quiet, staring into the ruins and the fires that were building there. “She deserved more.”
Mira agreed. Ravan, for all her faults, had always been more than she seemed. She remembered their time in the missile silo: about to kill Mira one moment … then the next they were sharing their darkest secrets and helping each other survive. It didn’t seem real, the idea that someone like Ravan was gone, that Mira would never see her again. It was one more item for the list of just how much this endeavor had cost, and Mira knew, however conflicted her feelings were, she would hold Ravan’s name at the top of the list she’d already made herself memorize.
“When I saw that ship go down, your ship, I…” Holt started, then trailed off. Mira’s eyes shut, realizing it was the beginning of the conversation she’d been dreading. “I went somewhere, and I didn’t want to come back. Ravan … made me come back.” He looked down at the tattoo with Mira. “I finished it because…”
“I know why you finished it,” Mira said. “And you don’t have to explain anything to me.”
She reached out and touched the tattoo. For a moment, Holt’s fingers touched hers back … and then they both drew away.
“I knew, after the Tower, when we committed to this,” Mira continued, “that so much would change, that we would change, I just never thought…” Her voice dropped, she felt a sadness forming over her. “Did we lose each other, Holt? In all this?”
Mira looked up and saw the same sadness in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve had my feelings turned on and off and back on again so many times, Mira, I don’t know what I feel anymore. Maybe … maybe that’s our price to pay, for doing all this. For all the darkness we created to get here.”
Mira felt tears again, her vision began to cloud. In the distance, two old buildings collapsed to the streets, and more flames took their place, rising into the air. The light from the fires reflected in what was left of millions of glass windows. The sight was overwhelming.
Instinctively, Mira leaned into Holt, and his arms circled her. They both stared to the west, through the destruction and the fires. The Citadel loomed, waiting for them …
“It’s like the world’s burning,” Mira said. Holt held her tighter.
* * *
MAX LED THE WAY as Mira and Holt exited the factory, and they were the last ones out. The fires from before filled the skies with thick, swirling blackness. The majority of the forces were here, in the rail yard. Sorcerer’s locomotives rumbled, in spite of the gaping wounds, the dying entities inside giving them their last breaths. Hopefully it would be enough.
Ambassador and the silver Assembly stood near the train. Mira could feel their emotions, and they were each awed, in reverence of the sacrifice the others had made. As she walked, the silver rebels turned and studied her. Mira looked back—Mantises and Brutes, Hunters and Spiders, their silver armor no longer gleaming, the entities inside dying, and yet they were with her.
Guardian, they projected. We believe …
The projections overrode her thoughts, and it was funny now. She no longer saw them as some horrible collection of crosses to bear. Their presence in her mind was still draining, but it had become comforting. She could feel the underlying emotion. They had faith in her, believed in her, and the realization gave her strength. Right now, she couldn’t imagine doing this without them.
And I in you, she projected back.
Everywhere people were getting ready. Smitty and Caspira talked near Sorcerer’s engines. A thousand Helix piled onto its roof with the Menagerie, all of them checking their gear. In the background, Landship crews were unberthing the ships, getting them ready to move. She saw Dresden, Conner, and Olive there, and their faces looked worried.
In fact, as she looked around, everyone’s did. A silence hung over the yard. They were scared, she knew. They might be willing to push forward, to go to the end, but they had very little confidence they could win, it was in their eyes. Even the White Helix seemed uneasy.
“It should be you,” Holt said. He was studying the crowd too, could see the same thing: like this, they’d never make it.
“No,” she answered. “It should be both of us.”
He looked at her and fo
r a brief moment she saw the old Holt, the tenderness and the emotion, and it was heartening to feel again.
Together, they climbed up onto the train, leaving Max on the ground. As they did, all the movement in the rail yard stopped. The army they’d built, the one they’d sacrificed so much for, stared up at them, waiting.
Mira wasn’t sure what to say. She was no speechmaker. In the end, she simply opted for how she felt.
“Each of us … is weak,” she began. “Each of us has doubts. Each is afraid. Some admit to it, others don’t. Either way, you have all taught me that strength is not an absence of fear. Strength … is going forward in spite of it.”
The groups at the far end of the yard moved closer, listening: Assembly and White Helix, Menagerie and Wind Trader. She tried to look as many of them in the eye as she could, so they could see her sincerity. None of them looked away.
“The Wind Traders speak of the Valley of Fires,” she said. “The point where we are all tested. There’s no doubt, we are at that place now. A place where we either plunge ahead into the flames … or burn where we stand. I choose to go forward. To fight. Because I believe everything we’ve ever wanted is on the other side of those fires. I believe that when the sun comes up tomorrow, this planet will be ours again.” The army before her listened, she could see the will beginning to burn within them. “We’ve been through so much together, changed in ways we never thought we could. Take this one last step with me, not because you have to, but because you believe. If I’m going to fall, then it will not be because I stopped and waited for the fires to claim me. It will be because I pushed on, into the inferno, in spite of fear. With you.”
“Seek!” Dasha yelled from below.
“And find!” the White Helix chanted together.
“Power,” Holt yelled. “And profit.”
“Power and profit!” the Menagerie shouted back as one.
Mira turned and looked to the Wind Traders, near their ships, the crews watching from the top decks, the colorful sails billowing in the breeze. “Winds guide us,” she said, and she never meant it more.
Dresden and Conner nodded to her.
A chant went up from the Helix, and it was picked up by Avril. When the Menagerie saw her join in, they followed, and the words overpowered even the sounds of the explosions nearby.
“Strength! Strength! Strength! Strength!” They chanted the words, over and over.
Mira felt Holt look at her, and turned to him. “Let’s go get our girl,” he said.
45. DISPERSION
PAIN SEARED THROUGH ZOEY’S BODY and the world threatened to fade out, but she held on. If she passed out, the end she had fought so hard to stop would come. There were four entities inside her now, and as unique as her biological structure was, she was literally being torn apart.
Her hands were still forced onto the rods at the end of the armrests. She could feel the Tone, could feel where it passed through the minds of every survivor on the planet.
She was dimly aware of other things too. The sadness of the Nexus at what its children were doing. The conflict growing in the Citadel and outside, the divisions forming between those who believed in her and those who did not. She felt the resistance of the Feelings, fighting against the other entities, but they were too strong.
The pain made concentrating on anything but staying conscious virtually impossible. All the while, she could feel her presence within the Tone speeding, mind to mind, person to person. In a moment, the entities would make her force their own kind into millions of human hosts.
She had to find a way to let go of the rods, but how? Rose had clamped her arms and legs to—
Rose!
Zoey forced her eyes open and found the woman staring at her in horror.
“I’m so sorry…” she said. Through her pain, Zoey could just make out the woman’s sense of guilt.
Zoey fought through the pain with what life she had left. She tried to recall everything she could about her Aunt Rose, about the time they’d spent together and all the feelings that went with it.
Rose and Zoey’s mother, holding her in between them on the beach. Eating ice cream while riding on Rose’s shoulders. Drive-in movies outside of town, Rose teaching her how to paint, Zoey crawling into bed with her aunt to nap.
All of it, the images, the feelings, Zoey thrust at her, forcing them into her mind like coal into a furnace.
Shock exploded from the woman as the memories came to life, one after the other, overriding her other thoughts, filling her with their resonance. She was terrified.
“Zoey!” She staggered back, holding her head, but Zoey just kept pumping the memories in.
The pain in Zoey’s body intensified, the entities burning her apart. The little girl fought through it, trying to hold on. If she didn’t, it was all for nothing. Holt and Mira and the Max were counting on her.
Zoey pushed harder, concentrating on every detail of every moment she could remember, and the horror Zoey felt from the woman slowly morphed into something else. Anger at what was happening, intense shame that she had helped bring it about, and a maternal, protective instinct that overrode everything else. The woman, more Rose than she had ever been, dashed forward.
“No!” she yelled, grabbing one of Zoey’s hands, prying the fingers loose from the rod. When it was off, Rose grabbed it herself … and then shrieked as she polarized with the machine and the Tone.
Like Zoey, Rose held on, adding her own strength to the fight against the entities burning out the little girl. It gave Zoey some relief, she felt the pain lessen, she could think, but the Ephemera inside her were strong, and she felt them double their efforts.
Dozens of transmitter panels in the ceiling exploded as the energy in the room intensified. The Citadel rumbled. Zoey saw more of the blue and white crystalline shapes push toward her, about to reinforce the ones already there.
She tried to pull her hand loose from the rod, to sever her connection from the Tone, but the entities kept her fingers clamped tight. All the while she could feel them using her innate power and the power of the Nexus to bind and merge with the Tone.
Zoey was running out of time.
Rose struggled to stay standing. The woman’s efforts had given Zoey her mind back, for however long. She put it to use, reached out through the Tone, scanning for Holt and Mira … but there were just too many human minds now.
The only entities she could detect with any specificity … were Assembly.
Zoey’s eyes widened. She reached out once more, searching for an old presence, one she felt fondly for. Zoey found its specific colors, called them forth, and, seconds later, she felt its response.
Scion … Ambassador projected with dismay.
Over the pain and her fading consciousness, Zoey felt a slight twinge of hope.
46. END RUN
MIRA GRIPPED THE WALL of the cargo car as Sorcerer began to move. Holt and Max were next to her, and no one spoke. There wasn’t much to say. It was all about to begin … and end. Her artifact sat in the makeshift Grounder, shut down for the moment. Mira had no idea how much power it had left, so it was being saved for the “Endgame.”
Isaac said there were always three phases in anything strategic. Early Game, Mid-Game, and Endgame. Victory was achieved by the proper use of your pieces in each phase. In their case, victory was getting the train to the Citadel, though Mira still wasn’t sure what they would do when they did.
Sorcerer would no doubt hit resistance right out of the gate. The Assembly would come down hard, but the arrangement of all their pieces was designed to counter it. The problem was balancing speed against force. Move the train too fast, and you’d leave behind defensive forces. Move it too slow, and you’d be overwhelmed by Assembly firepower. They had to get the pace just right.
Isaac was on the train, in a car near the middle, surrounded by what was left of the Regiment. He’d insisted on coming, even with his lack of mobility. Like everyone else, he knew this was it. Besides, too many
of his men had died here. If he was going to follow them, it would be in the same light.
Sorcerer barreled out of the rail yard as the skies darkened with clouds and the sun was almost down. In a few hours, the ruins would be dark, but it didn’t matter. This would all be over before then.
Almost immediately, a hailstorm of plasma bolts began flying. Walkers, mostly blue and white, were in the streets, and they erupted in explosions of their own as Sorcerer’s cannons returned fire.
White Helix and Menagerie were on the roof, and bullets, missiles, and Antimatter crystals launched outward. Flanking the tracks, Mira could see the Landships shadowing them, their colorful sails disappearing behind tall buildings as they raced along. Among them were the Menagerie vehicles, dune buggies and jeeps, and the gyrocopters buzzed by above, dropping bombs onto the Assembly.
At the front of everything were the silver rebels. A group of them broke off and barreled down a side street, their cannons engaging a group of Mantises directly—more of Isaac’s strategy: dividing the Assembly into “battle groups,” each consisting of a Spider, two Mantises, four Hunters, and two Brutes. When the front of the train encountered resistance, a battle group could break off and engage, stopping the Assembly from impeding the train. Even though the groups would be outnumbered, they would still make their impact. It was the ultimate utilization of Rock, Paper, Scissors, and Mira watched the groups wade into larger Assembly forces and shred them. Mira allowed herself to smile, for one brief moment.
Then the gunships appeared, swarms of them. They weren’t blue and white, and they weren’t Raptors. They were pure brown, shaped like crescents, with the pointed tips facing forward, and they soared up the streets, cannons blazing, strafing everything in sight.
Barrier artifacts flared to life around the train, absorbing the hits. The same thing happened on the Landships, but the Menagerie vehicles near them weren’t as fortunate.
Half a dozen gyros went down in flames. Dune buggies skittered out of control, cartwheeling and disintegrating to pieces.
Valley of Fires: A Conquered Earth Novel (The Conquered Earth Series) Page 39
