by J. L. Lyon
“So do not alienate Silent Thunder by protecting Corridor Prime’s love for Systemics,” Grace said.
“No. But do not alienate the Corridor by sweeping away their traditions with your first act. You must end this standoff with Van Dorn quickly and consolidate your hold on the Corridor. Then we must prepare to swing west and take Waypoint, opening the road to Pacifica, Vancouver, and Anchorage. You will need the strength of all the armies of the West to withstand the Imperial Guard’s advance.”
“Would it not be wiser to use the Corridor’s fortifications to our advantage?”
Liz shook her head, “Sullivan will bomb the Corridor the same as he did at Rio, killing tens of thousands and obliterating the Solithium fence. It is a weapon the World System has never fired and may not possess. Refusing to sanction its use in the war was the reason I was removed from power.”
“Bruce tells me that they will take Mexico within the week,” Grace said. “We might delay their advance with air raids on their lines, but we need the Halos to protect Prime from any Van Dorn might send.”
“You need to finish this, Grace. Today.”
Grace didn’t even need for Liz to tell her what she meant this time, for it was written all over her face. It was that same look she had given her in the Stone Hall the first time she had convened with Davian and Crenshaw, imploring Grace to choose a path that was abhorrent to her. A path of death.
“You would have me murder him.”
“I would have you stop the bloodshed before the river runs red with it,” Liz said. “Is one life worth the thousands who will die in the coming battle, soldier and innocent alike? Is it worth being crushed by the Imperial Conglomerate if they arrive before we are ready?” She lowered her voice again. “And imagine what will happen if a machine that understands more about humans than any human who has ever lived, programmed to control the world, suddenly begins to make its own decisions. Plugged into our vehicles, our homes, our weapons, every facet of our lives…what chance will your fight for freedom stand then? Time is of the essence. We must take Alexandria and shut it down as quickly as possible. Every hour could matter.”
The air in the hall pressed in a little tighter, and Grace shut her eyes. She still didn’t know whether she shared Liz’s concern about the System’s central computer. The theory seemed a little out there to her. But the lives of all those people—that was something that resonated. Those men in Great Army uniforms out there were her men now, and she had a responsibility to protect them if she could.
Even if it meant compromising her own soul.
“You’ve done this sort of thing before?”
Liz nodded, “When I was in the Triad, just before Specter. All intelligence officers receive cross-training as elite assassins. I just happened to be very good at it. They gave me three high-profile targets, all elements within the System who wished to raise another rebellion to ally with the one in Rome. Very secret stuff, not kept in any file. I bet the Ruling Council didn’t even know of it when they selected me for Specter.”
“So you were successful, then. All three times.”
“Yes,” Liz replied. “And like a lot of things I did serving the System, I’ve since had cause to regret them. But not this time, Grace. I know what will happen if a man like Van Dorn rules Corridor Prime. I know what will happen to Silent Thunder—to you—if he defeats you. And I will never regret being the agent that prevented those things from happening.”
Grace paused, her path clearer but no easier to take. She could not ignore the logic Liz presented, condemning all those lives if they might be saved. Even should Van Dorn survive the coming conflict, what then? Bruce and his allies would demand his head on a spike—figuratively, she hoped—and she would have little choice but to oblige. The end, for the general, would be the same. But the end for all the rest need not be. The larger war was still to come, and every soldier could be vital.
“Can you accomplish it with minimal risk to yourself? I am not prepared to lose you.”
“No one will ever see me,” Liz promised. “Likely not even Van Dorn.”
Grace gritted her teeth and quieted the warnings in the back of her mind, “What do you need?”
37
“TIME TO GO, GENERAL.”
Nathan Van Dorn, general of the Sixteenth Army of the Corridor, looked up in annoyance as Derek entered his office, Gentry close on his heels.
“You know I have guards posted outside for a reason, Grand Admiral, so that I am not unexpectedly disturbed. You could at least show me enough courtesy not to barge in unannounced.”
“Desperate times,” Derek shrugged.
“For you, perhaps,” Van Dorn replied. “I was able to make contact with Alexandria. The MWR seemed surprised to learn you were here assisting me.”
The color drained from Derek's face. Grace and her allies had managed to cut off all communications in the region to the outside world, likely to prevent the MWR from turning the neutral forces in Corridor North and South. Derek had been hoping the blackout would hold, albeit for different reasons.
“And how did that conversation end, may I ask?”
Van Dorn hesitated, and during that awkward silence Derek sensed Gentry's tension as his hand went to his blade. Van Dorn noticed as well, and smiled, “You are a magnificent commander, Grand Admiral; I will give you that. This plan you have formed will likely give both of us what we want, but I wonder at what cost it will come to you. Obsession has clouded your judgment and dulled your edge. I hope Grace Sawyer's death will sharpen it again, and the MWR shares this view. War is coming to us on every side, and we need the Grand Admiral that drove back the Imperial Guard's advance, not the man who has spent months chasing a single girl across the Wilderness.”
“She turned my partner, General,” Derek said with quiet anger. “Her manipulations got him killed. Should I just let that go?”
“You should heed the wisdom that brought you into power, and not the fire of vengeance. There is a time for reckoning, but not at the expense of the larger picture. You have forgotten that.”
“While I enjoy the lecture, I've had enough from my father to last a lifetime. Fortunately for me, I am under no obligation to listen to yours, given that I outrank you. Now as I said before, it is time to move. My men are in position, and all is prepared.”
“This is still my army, Grand Admiral. Perhaps you should ask nicely.”
Derek smirked, “Just out of curiosity, if you spoke with the MWR why isn't he sending reinforcements? Seems that if he really wanted you to win, he would send you enough firepower to crush your detractors.”
“He offered. I declined.”
“I fail to see the wisdom in that.”
“Of course you do,” Van Dorn replied. “You're an Alexandrian. But we do things differently here in the Corridor. My claim is contested because I was appointed by an outsider. If I accept help from him now, it will only unite the entire Corridor against me. Win or lose, I would be dead in a week.”
“Then why accept help from me?”
“Grace Sawyer has Spectral-adepts. I need your swords.”
“And you have them,” Derek said. “Now I need your army. Will you march, or will I have to take the Stone Hall myself?”
“I suppose that is as close to asking nicely as you are likely to get,” Van Dorn said. “Yes, I will order the march. If this plan of yours works out, the Corridor will have its true magistrate before the day is out.”
Satisfied, Derek turned to leave the tent, but paused when Van Dorn stopped him, “Grand Admiral.” He turned. “While I know you will likely ignore my advice, I do think you should remain here with me. Let your men win the day.”
“I don't just command men into battle, General. I lead them. And I didn't come here just to make you magistrate. I'll see you installed in the Stone Hall, but only after Grace Sawyer is dead.”
- X -
Liz’s long golden hair trailed behind her as Barley raced north out of Corridor Prime, his ho
oves a steady thunder against the broken ground. This was her first time guiding him on her own, but thankfully he knew more about what he was doing than she did.
The areas outside the main city centers of the Corridor were populated, but only sparsely, and with the coming battle there would be no military presence save the occasional scout along the road. Still, she preferred to be as cautious as possible, and stuck to the undeveloped ground where vehicles could not go, but Barley could. She would have to go on foot when she drew near Van Dorn's forces, but time was of the essence, and it would take her an entire day or more to reach his encampment on her own two feet. Barley would get her there in a fraction of that time.
They flew across the distance, and with the wind in her hair and the sun on her face she almost forgot the gravity of her situation. Almost. Thoughts of killing again, as she had done years ago in the Triad, loomed like a dark shadow on the horizon. She had killed so many more in battle than those three by assassination, but it was a different kind of killing. More personal. She believed what she was doing was for the greater good, but that didn't make her dread the deed any less.
She rode Barley for a couple of hours before he slowed to a trot, and she chose not to push him. Truth be told, she welcomed the delay. She leaned forward and patted the animal affectionately on the neck, “You did great today. I haven’t known many horses, but I’m already convinced that you’re the best.”
Seemingly heartened, Barley picked up a bit of speed, and Liz smiled. She took a moment to look around at the scenery as it passed her by, a strange mixture of Wilderness and civilization, quiet but not completely untame. To her left the Solithium wall shimmered with unnatural light, transparent enough to see the actual Wilderness beyond. Liz was surprised to feel a sense of longing for it. The Wilderness had always been this terrifying thing to her, filled with obstacles and horrors bent on ending her life through any means. There was some truth to that, as her encounter with the lions proved.
But there was also beauty...an immense presence of something she could not explain, almost like a conscious force breathing life into this world of wonders. God, was the word that came first to her mind, something she had contemplated academically but never something she had experienced. Religion of any kind was forbidden by the World System, of course, and she had never really understood why people would be willing to die rather than give up notions of a fairy in the sky.
Feeling that force, whatever it was, she realized that she might have tapped into something bigger than she had ever imagined. The notion of a sky fairy was silly because of what it conjured in the mind. But this was nothing like that...it was ethereal, mysterious, and powerful; unseen but undeniable. To think of the consciousness behind something so enormous...it made her feel small, like a grain of sand before the crash of a mighty wave.
She passed through several of the Corridor's farms, barren now in the winter, and then some factories that appeared abandoned. She had not seen a single person now for more than an hour. Were they hiding? Had they fled the battle that would surely come? Perhaps Grace had taken them into the city proper for protection. Or perhaps Van Dorn had presided over something more nefarious.
Something changed in the air, an unnatural quiet as if the world around her had decided to hold its breath. Barley felt it, too, for his trot slowed to just a walk, and then he came to a complete stop. Liz looked around and felt the hair on the back of her neck rise with fear. It was that same sense she had felt when being tracked by the lions, though this time she was certain she was being stalked by a much worse kind of predator.
They had stopped in the middle of a barren field, with not a soul in sight. A ramshackle farmhouse stood—leaned, more like—at the edge of the field directly ahead, as quiet as all the rest she had passed. The river ran close here, as this was one of several places where the Solithium fence passed into the water. The fence would eventually drive her into a wedge and force her back onto the road to cross the nearest bridge.
That meant there was little room for her to go around the farmhouse, which was the only place in her line of sight where a threat might hide. It was also the perfect place for Van Dorn to place a patrol to prevent someone like herself from ranging too far north. And it was still too far away for her to go the rest of the way on foot. Sneaking up to the farmhouse and making sure it was clear would take too much time, not to mention the lack of cover.
She had no choice but to go on.
An explosion behind her removed the element of choice, as Barley took off at full speed. Liz looked back in time to see the scorched earth fall back to the ground, a crater nearly two meters wide just visible through the smoke. What was that? An IED? A missile?
Her answer came as a shadow moved on the farmhouse porch, and another rocket screamed toward them. It shot wide and continued on until it detonated against the Solithium barrier. “Go, boy!” She urged Barley on. “You can do this!”
They picked up speed and came parallel with the farmhouse—where they would be in the most danger—and Liz drew her sidearm. She squeezed off four rounds in the shadow's direction to send him diving for cover, and angled Barley as best she could toward the tall grass that lay beyond the house all the way to the shore of the river. It would provide some protection, but not much.
Her cover fire must have worked, for no more rockets streamed from the house. Likely her assailants were regrouping and trying to adjust their vantage. With any luck, by then she would be—
A crack rent the air like a bolt of lightning, and her world descended into chaos. Barley tumbled and then collapsed beneath her, his nose crashing to the ground in a shower of dirt and grass. The force threw her from his back, and if not for instinct and training she might have emerged with a broken neck. Her hands hit first, and in that instant she was able to right herself enough to shift into a roll. Pain shot through her wounded shoulder, and the wind was knocked out of her as she hit, but she would live—for a few more minutes, at least.
She stared up at the sky from her back, tendrils of grass reaching up all around her. She would be concealed, now, but they would be coming. She needed to move. Rolling over with some difficulty, Liz looked back to where Barley lay, his breathing labored and blood staining the side of his neck. No, no, no... Against her better judgment she crawled over to him, placed a hand on his head, and stroked his mane softly. “I'm sorry, buddy,” she whispered as she held back tears. “I'm so sorry.”
It was a bullet wound in his neck, the kind of shot only a sniper could have made. She waited there for several seconds, knowing she should go but reluctant to leave the animal alone. He just watched her with sad, resigned eyes. And then, he stopped breathing. He was gone.
Liz leaned forward to kiss the animal, then pushed herself back to her feet. Blood and dust now filled her vision, dismantling the image of peace and tranquility she had observed only moments before. And with that peace had gone a friend. An animal, yes, but a friend nonetheless. She would mourn him as such, if she made it out of this.
She turned toward the river and limped through the tall grass. If she could only reach the bridge, then she still had a chance. Maybe she could even swim across.
A bullet kicked up dirt just in front of her, and she sprinted left, crouching down in some thicker growth. Shouts rang out behind her, though she couldn't make out any words. If she stayed put, they would find her.
Liz took off again, and as soon as she did another bullet screamed past her, this time just grazing the cloth of her jacket. The sniper did not have a clear shot at her, but was tracking her by the movement of the grass. Smart. But that meant she could not stop. She needed to make it to the river.
More bullets whizzed by, one so close she felt the disturbance of air right by her ear. But there was also another sound: that of running water. She was almost there.
She felt the pain before she heard the shot, and her leg gave out beneath her, the sound of the bullet echoing off the sky as she crashed to the dirt. After a failed a
ttempt to rise, she drug herself forward several feet until the grass gave way to the open air just beside the bank of the river. She might not be able to put enough weight on her leg to walk, but she could probably swim.
Boots crushing the grass underscored the importance of time, and rather than crawl the rest of the way, she turned and rolled down the bank. Rocks dug into the exposed skin on her hands and face, but her shoulder took the worst of it. She bit her tongue to prevent herself from crying out and giving away her position, which only served to create more pain.
Her maneuver ended prematurely as she hit something large and soft right next to the water. She sat up to see what had thwarted her and immediately pushed herself away.
A body. Dead for at least a day.
She gazed to the right and could not hold back a gasp. Three more bodies lay along the shoreline, two of them smaller than the other. The farmer who had tended this land, and his family. The children could not have been older than ten. They must have seen the patrol coming and had the same idea to swim to safety.
A deep well of sadness and anger sprang up in her chest, overwhelming now with the loss of Barley and the tragedy on display before her. She did not want to escape. What had she been doing, running from these sadistic bastards? Some men just deserved to die.
Liz recalled that vision of Grace, standing like a goddess among her fleeing people, and drew her Gladius. Ignis came to life in her hand, and she used it as a cane to steady her wounded leg. Once she managed to stand, she unholstered her sidearm and aimed it in the direction of her oncoming foes.
The first one bounded out of the grass without a care in the world, no doubt emboldened by the ease with which they had killed the farmer and his family. She dropped him with a single bullet to the head. The shouted curses of his compatriots replaced their thoughtless march, and Liz followed the direction of the sound until she perceived movement in the grass. She fired again and heard the body drop. It did not rise again.
