Shadow Heart

by J. L. Lyon

  Liz paused, fear touching the back of her mind. As an intelligence officer for the World System, she had always been good at logging away seemingly insignificant data just in case she needed it. And Code Zero was a term not often discussed. But she did remember it, and she also remembered what her instructor hypothesized it could mean, were it ever to take place.

  “Code Zero?” she almost whispered. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes,” Bruce replied. “But Alexander appointed a successor in the intervening period, so we have a few things to work out.”

  “I’d say so,” Liz swallowed, tempted to jump right into the thoughts running through her mind. But no, she didn’t trust these people Grace had brought with her. Even if they were loyal, Grace’s situation was still precarious, and she didn’t need one of her closest confidants to be rumored crazy, which is how her thoughts would sound if she said them out loud. There was nothing to be gained by sharing this right away in any case. Later, when they were alone, would be a better time.

  “In many cities, magistrates have little power,” Liz said, thinking of Costa in Rome or the magistrate of Alexandria, whose name she couldn’t even remember. “It is normally concentrated in the hands of the generals.” She spared a pointed look for General Laban.

  “Not in Corridor Prime,” Bruce said. “Unlike our counterparts in other cities, we take the Systemic form of government quite seriously. The rulers rule. The warriors keep order and fight, when necessary, at the magistrate’s command.”

  “Would you agree, General?”

  “Of course,” Laban replied. But what else would he say?

  “And when your magistrate commands you to do something different than Napoleon Alexander, or Grand Admiral Blaine? They supersede the authority of a magistrate under the laws of the System, do they not?”

  Bruce flashed a sly grin, “I believe you already know the answer to that, or else you would not have phrased it as a question. You surprise me, Elizabeth Aurora. Soldiers are not normally students of the law. Perhaps we can continue this discussion as we walk. The magistrate has an appointment with the people.”

  With the people? Liz had to admit she hadn’t given much thought to the different cultures that might have developed in each of the World System’s cities. Certain uniqueness was bound to materialize when a group of people—even a large one—was kept within a closed system. But she had suspected Napoleon Alexander would direct their development as he had in Alexandria: with the brute force of the Great Army.

  She had only ever been in three cities—four now, including Prime. Alexandria was a military autocracy, ruled by the iron fist of the Great Army at the MWR’s command. Both the Triad and Rome were also military states, recently recovering from military coups and—in the case of Rome—preparing for a worldwide civil war. The cult of the army in all three had been at the forefront of society.

  But a different kind of order had manifested here, and she could see it in the demeanor of those around her. The soldiers did indeed defer to the rulers. And never, in all her years around the generals and the overlords of the System, had she ever heard them mention the people. Citizens, workers, rabble, mob, and worse she had heard, but never the people in that tone of respect.

  General Laban made room for her at Grace’s side as they headed back up the hall, and Bruce continued, “The law is ambiguous, as I’m sure you are aware. Each of the World System’s cities, according to the original tenets of Systemic law, is to be self-sustaining. This is as true of government as it is of resources. The purpose of the overarching hierarchy was presented as a check on a city government that had gone rogue, and in that case alone could they assume command of the city’s army or order the army of another city to move against them.”

  “Like a federal system,” Grace said.

  “Precisely,” Bruce nodded. “That was the only way they were able to get the city councils that existed at the time to support the new unified government. It was only after they had gained power that the MWR and the Ruling Council started reaching for more, using tactics that some might say were in violation of original Systemic law.”

  “The MWR would say he is the law,” Liz argued, stepping into the elevator. At first she worried that they would not all fit, but the soldiers remained in the hall, leaving the vice-regent and the general alone with two Spectral-adepts. A show of trust, perhaps?

  “He would,” Bruce said as the doors closed and the elevator rose. “But he is wrong. The World System is a project—an experiment, if you will—in a new form of government. A government based on measurement and balance. Aptitude and population are measured and balanced with the needs of the closed system to create order. The continuity of this order is contingent upon following the calculations and recommendations of the System.”

  “You mean the central computer. A machine.”

  “An objective mediator,” Bruce said. “An entity without passion, ideology, ambition, or creed that can truly decide what is in the best interest of the society, based on the data it collects and not its own self-interest. Even despite its imperfections, Systemics has virtually eradicated poverty. Everyone is given a place. No one is left behind.”

  “Except for those who do not wish to be told what their lives will be,” Grace said solemnly. “Order and balance is all well and good, but there is a human element that your Systemics cannot account for, and those will always feel oppressed.”

  The elevator doors opened to a wide lobby, and they stepped out. Liz's eyes widened in amazement at the sheer number of people who stood to their left and right, formed up to create a kind of aisle down their center. All of them were here to get a good look at their new magistrate—or were they here to see the woman chosen by the central computer after a Code Zero? The rebel leader who had come to free them from the yolk of the MWR into a new Systemic utopia. That was where Bruce was headed, she had no doubt, and she had heard the arguments before. The only difference now was that Bruce had actual power in the city, while those who had pontificated endlessly on the subject in her past had been small voices.

  She watched their faces as they passed, most filled with wonder and pride as they looked upon their new leader. Soldiers, rulers, upper class citizens, even a few representatives among the workers, all hopeful at this new era they found themselves in. But what kind of leader could she be for them? Liz cared for Grace perhaps more than she had cared for any friend, but she had spent a lifetime dreaming of destroying the World System. She could not give these people the kind of future they dreamed of. She would bring them war, and if victorious would dismantle the system they had come to love so dearly.

  “People are oppressed in every form of government,” Bruce went on quietly as they made their way past the silent crowd. “Do you think hunger, exposure, and other forms of physical suffering were any less oppressing than people not being able to choose their desired career? You cannot even compare the two. The people in Corridor Prime work hard, they are fed, they are given shelter, and they live in peace. This is more than what could be said about any population of this size at any time in history.”

  “So they are born, they live, they spend themselves for the System, and they die. What was their life worth? What did they achieve?”

  “Every man cannot be magistrate. Every woman cannot be Shadow Heart, Queen of the Wilderness. You assume that achievement is necessary to bring a life worth, but you are wrong. Every life bears value in and of itself, independent of success or failure. To live is not just to serve the System. Our people love, they grow, and they learn to better themselves for the good of the city. They love their spouses, their children, their grandchildren. And when the third and fourth generations after them pass away, it is unlikely they will be remembered. But that doesn't mean their life didn't mean something. What do you know about your father's grandfather?”

  Grace paused, “Nothing. My father never knew him.”

  “But you would not say his life had no meaning. You're here, are you not?”<
br />
  Liz could almost feel Grace's frustration. Not at having to concede the point, but that Bruce misunderstood what she meant by achievement. Still, Liz looked on Bruce with renewed interest. She had never met a man like this before. The way he spoke, and the things he spoke of...in Alexandria they would be treason, but here they were full of promise.

  “The System by definition removes the element of choice from a person's life. You need a closed system, so they can never leave the city. You need a position filled that they have the aptitude for, so they can never seek the desires of their heart. There are not many opportunities for advancement, so you kill their ambition. Some might say that in stripping all these things from them, you are stripping away part of their humanity.”

  They stopped at the exit, and Bruce turned to Grace with a fervency in his eyes, “That couldn't be further from the truth. We encourage ambition, as new opportunities for advancement present themselves every day. Just as someone can be elevated to magistrate, they can be elevated above their present position, if the System chooses them. And these promotions are given by a neutral source, free from the taint of human greed and the intervention of tyrants. They get it because they deserve it. Do you think I began as vice-regent?”

  “And yet the World System is full of tyrants,” Grace went on. “I grew up in the Wilderness, Jeremiah, and I spent time as a slave among the hierarchy of Alexandria. The government you speak of is just a dream. The true World System is ruled by madmen.”

  Bruce gazed out the glass doors, tinted so that all Liz could see beyond them was a mass of shapes and grays. Then he turned back to Grace, “Madmen, yes. Crazed by power, thirsty for the blood of their enemies. But they all have one thing in common. They seized power for themselves. The System did not choose them. And as time goes by they each prove that the System would not have chosen them. They are a cancer that must be excised—and one way or another, they will be. We are the future, Magistrate. The fact that the System chose you, an outcast from the System, to lead one of its grandest cities, tells me that the time has come. A new era has dawned.”

  “Assuming you can hold the city,” Liz said. “You said Alexander appointed his own magistrate. I doubt he chose a man who believes as you do.”

  “No,” Bruce said. “General Van Dorn was ever a thorn in the side of the rulers. He is the last of the generals who were appointed, not chosen.”

  “And he commands a division of the Great Army nearly equal in force to both of the divisions currently in the city,” General Laban said. “Which is why we are hoping that your Spectral-adepts will tip the balance further in our favor.”

  “One hundred and fifty swords may make little difference in a full on battle between two armies,” Grace said.

  “A hundred and fifty?” Bruce asked. “You attacked the Communications Tower with near eight hundred!”

  Grace frowned sadly, “A lot has happened since then.”

  The confidence Bruce had worn since Liz first saw him down below wavered somewhat at this news. No doubt he had expected to have hundreds of Spectral-adepts behind them when this General Van Dorn marched on the city. With an army like that, he might surrender without a fight. The situation was precarious…much more so than the vice-regent cared to admit.

  “There are five armies assigned to the Corridor,” Liz commented, remembering her studies. “You have accounted for only three.”

  “One waits in Corridor North, the other in Corridor South,” Laban replied. “They will not join the battle until it is clear who will win. In any case, it will probably be over by the time either of them could get here. Van Dorn’s army is only a few miles north of Prime. But there are other ways—”

  “Laban!” Bruce cut across him. “Don’t.”

  “With respect, sir, you are no longer acting magistrate,” Laban said. “The new magistrate has the right to know all of the options available to her.”

  Both men waited, watching Grace expectantly. She nodded hesitantly, obviously not wishing to offend one of the two men in the city she was sure she could count on, “Let’s hear it.”

  “The army’s purpose is to place Van Dorn in the Stone Hall,” Laban said. “Remove Van Dorn, and they will have no more reason to fight.”

  “Remove him,” Grace repeated. “You mean send an assassin to kill him.”

  “If he takes the city he will kill every single one of us, and more,” Laban said. “He is Napoleon Alexander’s man, and none of us should shed any tears for him. This is war, and thousands will die. Or, maybe only one need die.”

  Grace pursed her lips in distaste, and her eyes flicked suddenly to Liz, accusing, “You agree with this, don’t you?”

  Liz opened her mouth to deflect, but stopped. Somewhere along the way the woman had gotten to know her too well. “Yes. I do. And you should probably send me to do it.”

  Grace looked down, once again facing that struggle between her conscience and what her people needed from her. It was something Liz respected but still did not understand. Faced with the same chance Van Dorn would put a knife through her heart without question. He might even be planning it himself. The only option was to strike first, and strike hard. To do the unexpected.

  “I will think on it,” she sighed. “Now if you don’t mind, I believe we have an appointment.”

  Bruce turned to Liz, “I have instructed this gentleman here to escort you to your new chambers, where you will find food, a change of clothes, and treatment for your wounded—.”

  “No, not yet,” Grace said. “I want her with me for this.”

  “She is not—.”

  “I will find a place for her, even if only to advise me,” Grace said sharply. “There are few people, living or dead, to whom I owe more.”

  Liz’s stomach had warmed at the thought of hot food, and her entire body longed to be clean and lying in a bed. But she would trade it all for the high praise that Grace had given her. How could she even think of betraying this woman? Family is not always flesh and blood. Perhaps that’s true.

  Bruce nodded, “As you wish, Magistrate.” He nodded to General Laban, and the two men pushed open the double doors to admit the chill January morning.

  Thunder met them, so powerful Liz nearly fell backward from fright. But it did not fade, and then she realized it was not thunder at all, but the cheers of several thousand of Corridor Prime’s citizens who had turned out for the presentation of their new magistrate.

  Grace stepped over the threshold and moved forward to the balcony that overlooked the masses, and—though it had not seemed possible moments before—the thunder of approval grew. Bruce was on Grace’s left now, and she and Laban were on her right, so she could see glimpses of the people below. Most shocking to her was to see that—even if the event was staged—those kinds of emotions could not be. They stared up at her in adulation, and before long their cries materialized into one voice, roaring as if in victory.

  SHADOW HEART. SHADOW HEART. SHADOW HEART.

  They knew her, and they loved her.

  Liz turned her eyes from the crowd to stare at her friend, who lifted one hand to accept the praise of her new people, her expression hard as a warrior in battle, like some kind of goddess who had descended from the heavens to herald a new age.

  Yes, a new era had dawned. But the sun gives no clue at its rising what kind of day it will be.

  33

  DEREK WAITED UNTIL THE absolute last moment before he emerged from the command tent, and did so then only because they needed to take it down. They had given Silent Thunder a wide berth since Alexander’s order to cease fire, which meant they had some catching up to do.

  As expected, Specter General Marcus stood outside with a group of three Specter Captains—the least intelligent and free-thinking ones, Derek noted. But he had come prepared. Gentry had been true to his word, and he along with his three most trusted Specters now stood at Derek’s back. It was a tense moment as the two groups stared one another down, though Marcus seemed somewhat cow
ed by the presence of Derek’s entourage.

  “Specter General Marcus,” he nodded. “I’m sure you have concerns. Walk with me, as we don’t have much time.”

  He stepped forward confidently, and the group of four flinched for a moment, obviously waiting for Marcus to give them the order to attack. But Marcus must have remembered Derek’s promise that if he ever challenged Derek’s control of the Spectorium, he would be the first to die. The group split and let Derek pass with his entourage, but instead Derek paused in the very center of their formation to speak with the dumbfounded Marcus, who no doubt had imagined this going very differently, “Are you coming, Specter General?”

  Marcus caught up with Derek as the group strode north through the camp, past Specters striking their tents and preparing to depart, “So, Marcus, out with it.”

  “Sir, your actions are in direct violation of the MWR’s orders,” Marcus replied. “He even warned me that you might try something like this, and that if you did I was to...”

  “Kill me?”

  “Remove you from command.”

  “Which would garner you a promotion, no doubt.”

  “No such promise was made or implied,” Marcus said. “Despite our history, Grand Admiral, I have no desire for your position. I know that I have progressed about as far through the ranks as I ever will, and that is okay with me. Men in my position have a much longer life expectancy than men in yours, as is evidenced by today’s events. Surely even you must see that what you’re doing is insane. Defying a direct order—”

  “The MWR told us to wait for the Persians to arrive and engage Silent Thunder,” Derek interrupted. “However, the situation has changed.” He handed Marcus the slip of paper Gentry had given him only hours before. “Read it.”

  Marcus unfolded the paper and read as they walked, and when he looked up his expression had soured even further. “You have attempted to get in touch with Alexandria?”