by Marie Lu
“Good,” the captain replies stiffly before moving on with the other Patriots and his own patrol. “Hurry. We don’t have long.” He leaves us to our work, then starts dictating bomb-planting spots to the others.
Once he’s gone, Pascao drops his giant grin and concentrates on the crevices that the captain had pointed out. “Not easy to reach,” he mutters. “You sure you’re up for this? You strong enough, seeing as how you’re dying and all?”
I cast him a withering glare, then study each of the crevices in turn. I test my knees and elbows, trying to gauge how much strength I have. Pascao’s a bit taller than me—he’ll be able to handle the first two crevices best, but the third crevice is wedged in such a tight position that I know only I can get to it. I can also see right away why the captain pointed that spot out. Even if we didn’t plant six bombs along this side of the base, we’d probably disable any airship with a single bomb on that location. I point to it.
“I’ll take that one,” I say.
“You sure?” Pascao squints at it. “I don’t want to watch you fall to your death on our very first base.”
His words coax a sarcastic smile out of me. “Don’t you have any faith in me at all?”
Pascao smirks. “A little.”
We get to work. I take a flying leap from the stairs’ ledge to the closest crisscrossing beam, and then weave myself seamlessly into the maze of metal. What a feeling of déjà vu. The springs embedded in my suit’s joints take a little getting used to—but after a few jumps I grow into them. I’m fast. Really fast with their help. In the span of ten minutes, I’ve crossed a quarter of the base’s ceiling and am now within striking distance of that crevice. Thin trickles of sweat run down my neck, and my head pulses with familiar pain. Below, soldiers pause to watch us even as all of the base’s electronic tickers continue to run the surrender notice. They have no goddy clue what we’re doing.
I pause at the final leap, then make my jump. My body hits the crevice and slides snugly in. Instantly I pull out the tiny bomb, open its clip, and plant it firmly into place. My headache makes me dizzy, but I force it away.
Done.
I slowly make my way back along the beams. By the time I swing down onto the stairs again, my heart’s pounding from adrenaline. I spot Pascao along the beams and give him a quick thumbs-up.
This is the easy stuff, I remind myself, my excitement giving way to an ominous anxiety. The hard part’s going to be pulling off a convincing lie to the Chancellor.
We finish with the first base, then move on to the next. By the time we’re done with the fourth base, my strength is starting to give way. If I was fully in my element, this suit could’ve made me damn near unstoppable—but now, even with its help, my muscles ache and my breaths sound strained. As the soldiers now guide me into a room in the air base and prepare me to make my call and my broadcast, I’m silently grateful that I don’t need to run any more ceilings.
“What happens if the Chancellor doesn’t buy you?” Pascao asks while the soldiers file out of the room. “No offense, pretty boy, but you don’t exactly have the best reputation for keeping your promises.”
“I didn’t promise him anything,” I reply. “Besides, he’ll see my announcement go out to the entire Republic. He’s going to think that everyone in the country will see me switch allegiances to the Colonies. It won’t last. But it’ll buy us some time.” Silently, I hope to hell that we can figure out the final cure before the Colonies realize what we’re doing.
Pascao looks away and out the room’s window, where we can see Republic soldiers finishing up the last few bomb placements on the base’s ceiling. If this fails, or if the Colonies realize the surrender’s fake before we have time to do anything about it, then we’re probably done.
“Time for you to make your call, then,” Pascao mutters. He locks the door, finds a chair, and pulls it off to one corner. Then he settles down with me to wait.
My hands tremble slightly as I click my mike on and call the Colonies’ Chancellor. For a moment, all I hear is static, and a part of me hopes that it somehow can’t trace the name that had called me before, and that somehow I’ll have no way of reaching him. But then the static ends, the call clears, and I hear it connect. I greet the Chancellor.
“This is Day. Today is the last day of your promised ceasefire, yeah? And I have an answer to your request.”
A few seconds drag by. Then, that crisp, businesslike voice comes on the other end. “Mr. Wing,” the Chancellor says, as polite and pleasant as ever. “Right on time. How lovely to hear from you.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen the Elector’s announcement by now,” I reply, ignoring his niceties.
“I have, indeed,” the man replies. I hear some shuffling of papers in the background. “And now with your call, this day is looking to be full of good surprises. I’d been wondering when you would contact us again. Tell me, Daniel, have you given some thought to my proposal?”
From across the room, Pascao’s pale eyes lock on to mine. He can’t hear the conversation, but he can see the tension on my face. “I have,” I reply after a pause. Gotta make myself sound realistic and reluctant, yeah? I wonder if June would approve.
“And what have you decided? Remember, this is entirely up to you. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t wish to do.”
Yeah. I don’t have to do anything—I’ll just have to stand by and watch while you destroy the people I love. “I’ll do it.” Another pause. “The Republic’s already surrendered. The people aren’t happy about your presence, but I don’t want to see them harmed. I don’t want to see anyone harmed.” I know I don’t have to mention June by name for the Chancellor to understand. “I’ll make a citywide announcement. We got access to the JumboTrons through the Patriots. It won’t be long before that announcement hits all the screens in the entire Republic.” I kick in a little more attitude to keep my lie authentic. “That good enough for you to keep your goddy hands off June?”
The Chancellor claps his hands once. “Done. If you’re willing to become our . . . spokesman, so to speak, then I assure you that Ms. Iparis will be spared the trials and executions that come with an overturning of power.”
His words send a chill through me, reminding me that if we do fail, then what I’m going to do isn’t going to save Anden’s life. In fact, if we fail, the Chancellor will probably figure out that I’m behind all this too, and there goes June’s . . . and probably Eden’s . . . chances at safety. I clear my throat. Across the room, Pascao’s face has turned stony with tension. “And my brother?”
“You need not worry about your brother. As I mentioned to you before, I am not a tyrant. I will not hook him up to a machine and pump him full of chemicals and poisons—I will not experiment on him. He—and you—will live a comfortable, safe life, free from harm and worry. This, I can guarantee you.” The Chancellor’s tone changes to what he thinks is soothing and gentle. “I can hear the unhappiness in your voice. But I do nothing except what is necessary. If your Elector imprisoned me, he would not hesitate to execute me. This is the way of the world. I am not a cruel man, Daniel. Remember, the Colonies are not responsible for your lifetime of suffering.”
“Don’t call me Daniel.” My voice comes out low and quiet. I am not Daniel to anyone outside of my family. I am Day. Plain and simple.
“My apologies.” He actually sounds genuinely sorry. “I hope you understand what I’m saying, Day.”
I remain silent for a moment. Even now, I can still feel the pull against the Republic, all of the dark thoughts and memories that whisper to me to turn my back, to let it all crumble to pieces. The Chancellor can gauge me better than I would’ve thought. A lifetime of suffering is hard to leave behind. As if she can sense the dangerous pull of the Chancellor’s spell, I hear June’s voice cut through this train of thoughts and whisper something to me. I close my eyes and cling to her, drawing strength from her.
“Tell me when you want me to make this announcement,” I say
after a while. “Everything’s wired up and ready to go. Let’s get this whole thing over with.”
“Wonderful.” The Chancellor clears his throat, suddenly sounding like a businessman again. “The sooner, the better. I will land with my troops at the outer naval bases of Los Angeles by early afternoon. Let’s arrange for you to speak at that time. Shall we?”
“Done.”
“And one more thing,” the Chancellor adds as I’m about to hang up. I stiffen, my tongue poised to click my mike off. “Before I forget.”
“What?”
“I want you to make the announcement from the deck of my airship.”
Startled, I glance at Pascao, and even though he has no idea what the Chancellor just said, he frowns at the way my face has just drained of color. From the Chancellor’s airship? Of course. How could we think he’d be that easy to fool? He’s taking precautions. If something goes wrong during the announcement, then he’ll have me in his grip. If I make an announcement that’s anything other than telling the Republic people to bow down to the Colonies, he could kill me right there on the airship’s deck, surrounded by his men.
When the Chancellor speaks again, I can sense the satisfaction in his voice. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Your words will be more meaningful if given right from a Colonies airship, don’t you agree?” he says. He claps his hands once again. “We’ll expect you at Naval Base One in a few hours. Looking forward to meeting you in person, Day.”
THE REVELATION ABOUT MY CONNECTION TO THIS PLAGUE changes all of my plans.
Instead of heading out with the Patriots and helping Day set up the airship bases, I stay behind at the hospital, letting the lab teams hook me up to machines and run a series of tests on me. My daggers and gun lie on a nearby dresser, so that they won’t get in the way of all the wires, and only one knife stays tucked along my boot. Eden sits in bed beside me, his skin sickly pale. Several hours in, and the nausea has begun to hit.
“The first day’s the worst,” Eden says to me with an encouraging smile. He speaks slowly, likely from the medication the lab team gave him to help him sleep. “It gets better.” He leans over and pats my hand, and I find myself warming to his innocent compassion. This must be what Day was like when he was young.
“Thanks,” I reply. I don’t speak the rest of my thoughts aloud, but I cannot believe that a child like Eden was able to tolerate this sort of testing for days. Had I known, I might have done what Day originally wanted and refused Anden’s request altogether.
“What happens if they find out that you match?” Eden asks after a while. His eyes have started to droop, and his question comes out slurred.
What happens, indeed? We have a cure. We can present the results to Antarctica and prove to them that the Colonies deliberately used this virus; we can present it to the United Nations and force the Colonies back. We’ll have our ports opened up again. “The Antarcticans promise that help is on the way,” I decide to say. “We might win. Just maybe.”
“But the Colonies are already at our doorstep.” Eden glances toward the windows, where our enemy’s airships are now dotting the sky. Some have already docked at our bases, while others loom overhead. A shadow cast across our own Bank Tower building tells me that one is hovering over us right now. “What if Daniel fails?” he whispers, fighting back sleep.
“We just have to play it all carefully.” But Eden’s words make my gaze linger on the cityscape too. What if Day does fail? He told me as he left that he would contact us before his broadcast to the public. Now, seeing how close the Colonies’ airships are, I feel an overwhelming sense of frustration that I can’t be out there with them. What if the Colonies realize that the airship bases are all rigged? What if they don’t come back?
Another hour passes. While Eden falls into a deep slumber, I stay awake and try to will away the nausea rolling over me in waves. I keep my eyes closed. It seems to help.
I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly I’m awakened by the sound of our door opening. The lab techs have finally returned. “Ms. Iparis,” one of them says, adjusting his MIKHAEL name tag. “It wasn’t a perfect match, but it was close—close enough that we were able to develop a solution. We’re testing the cure on Tess now.” He’s unable to keep a grin from crossing his face. “You were the missing piece. Right under our noses.”
I stare at him without saying a word. We can send results to Antarctica—the thought rushes through my mind. We can ask for help. We can stop the plague’s spread. We have a chance against the Colonies.
Mikhael’s companions start unhooking me from my tangle of wires, and then help me to my feet. I feel strong enough, but the room still sways. I’m not sure whether my unsteadiness is from the tests’ side effects or the thought that this might all have worked. “I want to see Tess,” I say as we start heading for the door. “How quickly will the cure start working?”
“We’re not sure,” Mikhael admits as we enter a long hall. “But our simulations are solid, and we ran several lab cultures with infected cells. We should start seeing Tess’s health improve very soon.”
We stop at the long glass windows of Tess’s room. She lies in a delirious half sleep on her bed, and all around her are lab techs rushing about in full suits, monitors dictating her vital signs, charts and graphs beamed against the walls. An IV’s injected into one of her arms. I study her face, searching for some sign of consciousness, and fail to find it.
Static in my earpiece. An incoming call. I frown, press a hand to my ear, and then click my mike on. A second later, I hear Day’s voice. “Are you okay?” His first thought. Of course it is. The static is so severe that I can hardly understand what he’s saying.
“I’m fine,” I reply, hoping he can hear me. “Day, listen to me—we’ve found a cure.”
No reply, just static, loud and unrelenting. “Day?” I say again, and on the other side I hear some crackling, something like the desperation to communicate with me. But I can’t get us hooked up. Unusual. The reception on these military bands is usually crystal clear. It’s as if something else is blocking all of our frequencies. “Day?” I try again.
I finally catch his voice again. It holds a tension that reminds me of when he’d chosen to walk away from me so many months ago. It sends a river of dread through my veins. “I’m giving—announcement on board a Colonies airship—ellor won’t have it any other way—”
On board a Colonies airship. The Chancellor would hold all the cards in that case—if Day were to make a sudden move, or make an announcement that went against what they agreed to, the Chancellor could have him arrested or murdered right on the spot. “Don’t do it,” I whisper automatically. “You don’t have to go. We’ve found the cure, I was the missing piece of the puzzle.”
“—June?—”
Then no answer, just more static. I try again twice more before I click my mike off in frustration. Beside me, I can see the lab tech also trying in vain to make a call.
And then I remember the shadow cast across the building we’re in. My frustration fades immediately, followed by waves of terror and comprehension. Oh no. The Colonies. They’re blocking our frequencies—they’ve taken them over. I had not thought that they would make their move so quickly. I rush over to the window looking out at Los Angeles’s cityscape, then turn my eyes skyward. I can see the enormous Colonies airship that hovers overhead—and when I look more closely, I notice that smaller planes are leaving its deck and circling lower.
Mikhael joins me. “We can’t reach the Elector,” he says. “It seems all the frequencies are jammed.”
Is this in preparation for Day’s announcement? He’s in trouble. I know it.
Just as this thought crosses my mind, the doors at the end of the hall swing open. Five soldiers come marching in, their guns hoisted, and in a flash I can see that these are not Republic soldiers at all—but Colonies troops, with their navy blue coats and gold stars. Panic rushes through me from head to toe. Instinctively I move toward Eden’s roo
m, but the soldiers see me. Their leader waves his gun at me. My hand flies to my gun strapped to my waist—and then I remember that all of my weapons (save for one ankle knife) are lying useless back in Eden’s room.
“With the Republic’s surrender,” he says in a grandiose voice, “all reins of power have been transferred to Colonies’ officials. This is your commander telling you to stand aside and let us pass, so that we can run a thorough search.”
Mikhael throws up his hands and does as the official says. They draw closer. Memories whirl in my mind—they’re all lessons from my days at Drake, a stream of maneuvers that run through my head at the speed of light. I gauge them carefully. A small team sent up here to accomplish some specific task. Other teams must be swarming each of the floors, but I know these soldiers must have been sent up to us for something in particular. I brace myself, ready for a fight. It’s me they’re after.
As if he read my mind, Mikhael nods once at the soldiers. His arms stay up high in the air. “What do you want?”
The soldier answers, “A boy named Eden Bataar Wing.”
I know better than to suck in my breath and thus give away that Eden’s on this floor—but a tidal wave of fear washes over me. I was wrong. They’re not after me. They want Day’s brother. If Day’s forced to give his announcement on board the Chancellor’s airship, alone, he’ll be helpless if the Chancellor decides to take him hostage—and if he gets his hands on Eden, he’ll be able to control Day at his every whim. My thoughts rush even further. If the Colonies truly succeed in taking over the Republic today, then the Chancellor could use Day indefinitely as his own weapon, as a manipulator of the Republic’s people, for as long as the people continue to believe in Day as their hero.
I open my mouth before Mikhael can. “This floor just houses plague victims,” I say to the soldier. “If you’re looking for Day’s brother, he’ll be on a higher floor.”
