by J. L. Lyon
“I asked him to go, and he agreed. Aiken leads the remnant of the 1st Battalion and is not under your command, so I wouldn’t see it as subversion of your authority.”
“I don’t. I see it as manipulation. You’ve led the 2nd Battalion around by the nose for the last year looking for this thing, with nothing but the promise that it could change the balance of the war. Now I hear that you’ve been doing the same to the 1st without my knowledge? What am I supposed to think?”
“That any good tactician knows not to bet the entire war on a single battle…not until he is sure he can win.”
“Does Aiken know what you sent him after? Do you even know?”
“I told Aiken what I told you,” Crenshaw’s lips were thin, his brow furrowed with concern. “But I had expected him back weeks ago. So far as I know, there has been no word.”
“And the Spectorium stands between him and us.”
Crenshaw nodded, “And yes, I know what this is…or at least, I know enough.”
“I would like the truth, Crenshaw. The entire truth, for once.”
“You might regret that in a few moments.”
“Between that and the fear that your secrets will destroy us, I’ll take the truth.”
Crenshaw finally tore his gaze from the screen and surveyed her with cool, calculating eyes—eyes that reminded her so much of Eli that it nearly quelled her anger…nearly.
“I kept the fragments secret for a reason. Truthfully, I wasn’t certain we would make it this far, and there was no point having this conversation otherwise.”
“You weren’t sure?” Grace demanded. “Then what have we been doing all this time?”
“Surviving,” he replied. “We abandoned Alexandria in defeat, Grace. You and I failed with Eli, and Silent Thunder failed to make much more than a dent in the World System. I knew only a miracle would hold us together—even the 2nd was in danger of fragmenting with your father gone. We needed something to do, something to strive for. So I…picked this.”
“A worthless string of code,” Grace said. “Crenshaw, Traughber and all those men I took with me died for this!”
“I know,” he said. “So I can’t let you go on in the dark. Nor can I let you believe it is just a string of code. It’s not.” He rose and stepped over to the control panel, where he punched in several commands. “It’s a map.”
The screen changed, and the numbers were replaced by a series of lines. Grace squinted, trying to make sense of it.
“The identical number strings refer to roads,” Crenshaw explained, and it finally clicked. Most of the lines were laid out in a grid-like pattern, which could have referred to nearly any city in the world. But it was the larger roads, the old highways, that often made a city immediately distinct. One of the roads was enormous—so large that she had to question the scale of the map. There were three other larger roads, one of which crossed the behemoth. Once it reached the other side—west, by her reckoning—the other two roads spread out from it to form a curved trident.
“Does it say where this is?”
“No, and that’s why it took so long to find this fragment. I didn’t recognize the layout of the city, and without satellite imaging had to locate it myself. But luckily we won’t have that problem this time. I know this city.”
“From that giant road?”
“That’s not a road,” Crenshaw said, suddenly grim. “It’s a river.”
Grace’s eyes widened, and a pit of dread opened in her stomach, “I hope you don’t mean that river.”
“Unfortunately I do. This is St. Louis, the city now known as Corridor Prime.”
Grace fought the urge to stand up and pace as anxiety-fueled adrenaline coursed through her veins. Prime was the most powerful outpost along the Corridor, a network of urban domains constructed to inhibit passage across the Mississippi River. A Solithium-powered fence similar to the one that isolated Domination Crisis Eleven from the world had been built on the river’s banks, and while the Corridor was not as densely populated as the other urban juggernauts that made up the World System, that was only because it stretched from Corridor North on Lake Superior down through Corridor Prime and all the way to Corridor South in the Gulf. The Corridor served as a massive line of defense against land invasion for Alexandria—smart, considering that would be the route the Imperial Conglomerate’s main force would have to take.
But Silent Thunder was no match for it, and Prime lay on the other side of the Solithium fence.
“What are our other options?”
“We can wait for Aiken to return, though his fragment—assuming he has it—will only lead to one that has already been found. Corridor Prime is the last.”
“I’d sooner break back into Alexandria than cross that river,” Grace said. “So this is it then. What you were really doing all those years.”
“Yes,” Crenshaw replied. “Jonathan left two in my possession. It took me eight years to find the other three, and then the Right Hand…McCall…found me. He warned me that if I didn’t stop searching, I might create something worse than the World System. He offered me a place in the Resistance, and I took it. But still, I wondered.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Some technologies change the world for the better, Grace. Others should have been buried as soon as they were made.”
Fear passed swiftly over the general’s face—only for a moment, but the depth of it was enough to terrify her. “What are we talking about here? A weapon? A disease?”
For a while Crenshaw remained silent, as he had several times when sidestepping her questions. But not this time. She wouldn’t allow it, not if he was asking her to lead Silent Thunder into Corridor Prime. She opened her mouth to demand answers, but stopped when his voice cut through the silence instead.
“Did your father ever tell you why Silent Thunder was formed?”
“Of course. To neutralize nuclear power in Persian-controlled territory.”
“That was our objective, but there were plenty of Special Forces already in existence that they could have assigned that mission.”
“None of them specialized in the Spectral Gladius.”
Crenshaw nodded, “But it wasn’t because of the superiority of the Gladius in battle, which we were just beginning to understand. It was the effect of the Solithium discharge from the weapon’s secondary form. Even an indirect hit renders affected matter inert: life, electrical systems…plutonium. We could neutralize a silo quickly because we didn’t need to bother with disarming each bomb. All we had to do was shoot them.”
“Everyone knows the story, Crenshaw. Silent Thunder saved the West from nuclear annihilation. But I don’t see what that has to do with this.”
“No one ever thought the countries of the Middle East would unite into one nation. But when Solithium made oil as worthless as the sand in their deserts, they did. No one ever thought that a group of culturally backward and economically declining states could mount an effective stand against the industrial powers of the world. But they did.
“They were masters of battle, Grace; you wouldn’t believe it. Like nothing the world had ever seen before…they combined modern and medieval warfare, and their warriors took to carrying scimitars again. It was enough to make even the greatest of us afraid.” He looked down at the table. “And fear can make us do foolish things.”
He unclipped his Spectral Gladius and set it on the table between them. The engraving, Renovatio, shone up at her from the emerald casing. “Solithium was set to change everything. The Spectral Gladius was only the beginning, a result of research into the properties of electromagnetic radiation—specifically photons—and how they could be manipulated to assume an actual form. Using the unprecedented amount of energy Solithium could produce, they took x-ray beams and applied supercharged electric force to excite the electrons to a frequency higher than anything we had ever observed. The closest thing to it was lightning: pure, solid lightning. They realized that what they had created was more than an x-
ray. More than a gamma ray, even. So they called it—”
“Perfect Light.”
“Yes,” Crenshaw nodded. “At first they saw it as the potential for shield technology, but they had trouble controlling it. The electric force necessary to create Perfect Light was just as hazardous as anything it might protect them from when they tried to create the shield in open air. But when they thought to apply the electricity through a conductor, they were able to stabilize it.” He moved his thumb over the hilt of Renovatio and swiped the activation switch. The blade assembled in the blink of an eye, and the diamond armor ignited with a low hum. “The blade of a Gladius emits very low levels of electromagnetic radiation, and a charge from the Solithium chamber in the hilt funnels electricity through the metal to ignite the radiation into Perfect Light. In this way, they successfully stabilized the reaction. So what had been meant as shield technology was transformed into a super-sword.
“They tried many forms of armor, but could find nothing powerful enough to protect organic matter from the electric supercharge necessary to create Perfect Light. Through an unfortunate accident that cost the lives of several scientists, they also discovered what would happen if the Solithium caused an overload: a massive, supercharged photon with the power to disrupt everything it touched on the atomic level. Seeing long-range applications, they incorporated this into the weapon and added the secondary form.” Crenshaw pulled back on the hilt and it separated into halves. The top half slid back and pulled down. As it clicked into place, the diamond armor went dark and the metallic shards realigned into a long cylinder. Now the weapon looked more like a shotgun than a sword.
“At that point their endeavors were purely exploratory, meant to lead to what they were sure would become a new industrial revolution. But then, Persia asserted itself. The scientists realized the value of the weapon they had built, and Silent Thunder was born.”
Grace tapped her fingers absently on the table as Crenshaw put his Gladius away. “While I appreciate the lesson in science and history, it still doesn’t answer my question. What are we talking about here? What were these fragments designed to hide?”
Crenshaw sighed, “There were rumors of…other things. Things that if not for fear we might never have tried to build. One project was particularly disturbing. Unfortunately, that rumor turned out to be true.”
“What was it?”
“I’m not sure exactly what it is; all I know is what it can do. You’ve seen the destruction that a Solithium burst can cause. Now imagine that effect compounded 500,000 times.”
“That would be enough to destroy an entire city,” Grace said, almost in protest. “An entire region, even.”
“That’s one theory,” Crenshaw said darkly. “The other is that a photon of that power would punch a hole through the Earth with enough force to impact the core. If the core was to be rendered inert, the planet would slowly lose all of the elements necessary to sustain life.”
Grace felt a chill travel up her spine. “You’re telling me that the United States, the nation that we are working tirelessly to restore, built a weapon capable of destroying the world.”
“Presumably the weapon’s operator would be able to program the power of the photon, but at maximum strength it has that potential, yes.”
In the Wilderness Grace had learned a great respect for technology. It was an inevitable byproduct of growing up in that world, where simple comforts that those in the cities enjoyed were scarce. Her own mother had died in childbirth because she couldn’t get access to basic medical supplies. In the Old World that never would have happened.
Technology made it easier to survive, but it also gave birth to easier and more sinister ways to kill. The bow and arrow, steel, gunpowder, the atomic bomb, the Spectral Gladius—all had changed the world in their respective times. But this—to give one mind the ability to exterminate the entire planet—was just too much to wrap her head around. And for it to have come from the nation she grew up idolizing—it was nothing less than a betrayal.
“Why?” she asked, desperate to understand.
“Fear,” Crenshaw said. “And ignorance, to a degree. Their goal was to build a weapon with which to deter the armies of Persia. They didn’t realize what they had created until it was too late. That’s when they buried it.”
“They should have destroyed it.”
“Perhaps,” Crenshaw said. “But there again was that fear, that if things with Persia went south they would need it. Imagine, Grace, if the United States had demonstrated that power. Do you really believe the Persians would not have surrendered?”
“So why didn’t they?” Grace asked. “When the Persian armies were closing in, why didn’t they use it?”
“They didn’t know where it was. The eight lead researchers—against government orders—hid the weapon and programmed these fragments, then placed them in undisclosed locations around the country. I suspect there is some security measure that only the full card can bypass as well, so that no single researcher could return for it without the others. My father, who was President at the time and understood their sentiment, secured their pardons. The project remained secret. No one else ever knew about it.”
“Except you.”
“Yes,” Crenshaw smiled. “But I didn’t learn about it from my father. I know because one of the eight researchers was a young naval scientist named Jonathan Charity. His intimate knowledge of Perfect Light and photon technology was one of the reasons he was chosen for Silent Thunder soon after. He revealed pieces of it all to me in case something were to happen to him, since Elijah was too young to understand. One of the first things he did when we returned from the war was check the location to make sure it was undisturbed. He went alone, however, and none of us knew it at the time.”
Jonathan Charity…the great hero of the rebellion. The man’s name might as well have been the banner they fought beneath! And he had helped create this destructive power? Was nothing she believed in truly pure? No, she decided. The stories we learn as children are meant to inspire, to instill hope and a daring to dream. But people—actual people—were the reality, and the truth was far messier than a bedtime story.
She looked back at the map, suddenly nauseous. She had inadvertently become a part of this mess, dragged into the struggle of the previous generation. It was a struggle they should have solved, but had left to the next instead.
“Why are we looking for this, Crenshaw? Why not leave it buried?”
“Because we don’t know who else knows. Jonathan told me…who might the others have told? The longer it is out there, the more likely it could fall into the wrong hands.”
“And when we get there?”
“When we get there, we’re going to have to make a choice.”
Grace nodded. But who could make such a choice? Her? Crenshaw? It was said that Solithium saved a nation and destroyed the world. But the scale here was so much bigger than that: they could secure freedom for mankind, but in the process put all life on the planet at risk. Still, the choice could not be ignored. When they reached the end of this journey, someone would have to decide:
Use the weapon, or destroy it.
“So as important as this is, it may not be the salvation we have been hoping for,” Grace said. “Should we destroy it, we will be no closer to defeating the World System.”
“That is one consequence, yes.”
“Then it is time we had a conversation,” Grace said, leaning forward over the table. “I’ve been thinking that it may be time to escalate our role in this war.”
Crenshaw’s expression remained impassive, “Escalate how?”
“We were forced to flee Alexandria, but only after we had wreaked havoc within the very heart of the System and engaged the Great Army several times. We nearly annihilated the Fourteenth Army at the Communications Tower, and the Battle of the Central Square will be spoken of for generations.”
“What are you getting at?”
“We have a reputation. Even more
so now, since our exploits in the Wilderness. Our enemies fear us, Crenshaw, in a way they never have before. Now is the time to press our advantage. Now is the time to gain ground. Real ground.”
“So you want to what?” Crenshaw asked. “Attack the Great Army? Overrun an outpost?”
Grace held Crenshaw with her eyes, hoping to instill as much determination in her response as possible. “No. I want to take a city.”
The general laughed, a short chuckle only silenced when she did not join him. Then his eyes grew wide with disbelief, “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Crenshaw shook his head, “Grace, we don’t have the manpower—”
“I know everything you are about to say,” she interrupted. “And I get it. But when Silent Thunder numbered a thousand operatives they nearly took back the entire planet. With two hundred we can take one city, if we do it right. What I want to know is something only you can tell me: which city should we take?”
The general’s disapproval was plain, but he was first and foremost a military commander who had fought in all of the great wars of the last three decades, and he knew more about the World System than most of those who served it. His brow furrowed as he searched through that knowledge, matching it with all his years of strategy.
“Napoleon Alexander chose his cities well,” he said after a moment of silence. “Each is mostly self-sufficient, but they are positioned in such a way that if one city falls, others can come to take it back very quickly. To take a city from the MWR and be successful, you must control it and fortify it before he is even aware you are there. That would take alliances, bribes of Great Army generals, assassinations of key members of the city’s ruling class, weapons seizures, the list is endless.”
“Which city?” she asked more forcefully.
Crenshaw sighed, “The South American cities are out, with the destruction Sullivan is raining down on them. We can’t reach Europe or Australia, so that leaves three options. First, the weakest city: Waypoint. It was one of the last cities Alexander opened, to bridge the gap between the Corridor and Pacifica. The garrison of the Great Army there is much smaller than other cities.”
