A Soldier and a Liar

by Caitlin Lochner

  “Pretty much,” Peter says. His usual excitement is back, though I’m not sure now is exactly the time or place for it. His enthusiasm is making Mendel uneasy. “We have physical contact, I ask a question, and then we’ll both see the parts of your past that answer that question. At least, that’s how it usually goes. Forehead’s best since that’s where the memories are and all.”

  “Of course.” I can tell Mendel is fighting the urge to back away from Peter. “Obviously.”

  “We’ll start with something simple, like how you lost your memories,” Peter goes on. He flexes his hands again and puts one palm over Mendel’s forehead. Mendel tenses, but if Peter notices, he doesn’t give any sign of it. “Once we see the memories that answer that question, we’ll go from there to choose the next one.”

  Mendel looks to me, and I give what I hope is a reassuring nod. I never know how he’ll interpret any gesture I show him.

  Peter doesn’t give any warning before he uses his gift, but since I’m in Mendel’s head, I see the effects of it. His thoughts whir in and out of cinematic strips of events and people and places from memories before Central, filled through with black holes as if someone had taken scissors to the images and cut out the main parts. There are no faces, no sounds, no distinctive features to any of the rooms or buildings or streets I see except for the fact that they’re all either dark or dimly lit.

  As soon as it started, it stops. Peter frowns and slowly pulls his hand back.

  “What was that?” Mendel asks.

  “A bunch of holes,” Peter says.

  “Is that … normal?”

  Mendel glances to me, but I’m watching Peter. The two of us communicate through looks about what just happened.

  Mendel is being quite distracting, though. It must be nice to constantly know what’s going on.

  “It’s like someone deliberately messed up your memories,” Peter finally says. “Axed the important stuff and left a bunch of useless info behind.”

  Mendel’s usual guarded expression melts into one of pure panic, and it takes long, scrambled seconds for him to regain it. “Does that mean I can never get them back? If it was a Nyte who erased them—”

  “No,” I say. I’m still watching Peter. What he saw and what I saw from inside Mendel’s thoughts are the same, but I got a different read from them than either of them did. Mendel has no experience with the feel of thoughts or memories, and Peter isn’t used to pinpointing incongruities within them. “I don’t think they’ve been erased. Just blocked. From the looks of it, they wanted you to remember again at some point.”

  “So you think a Nyte did this?” Mendel asks.

  I nod, once. “That kind of memory damage isn’t accidental.”

  He’d never considered the possibility that someone might have intentionally messed with his memories. He’d always assumed it was because of a blow to the head, since he was already injured pretty badly when he first woke up in Central’s care.

  But why? Why would someone cut off all his memories from him? Did he see or hear something he shouldn’t have? Not that I would wish Mendel dead, but it would’ve been safer to kill him had that been the case. Unless his death would’ve been more suspicious than his loss of memory. No, then why would they take out everything he remembers and not just the thing he wasn’t supposed to know about? More than being surprised that someone intentionally did this to him, I can’t fathom why they would have.

  “I’ll have to come up with something else.” I sigh. “This is proving harder than I expected.”

  “Do you have anything else?” Mendel asks. “How do you get around the work of a Nyte’s gift?”

  “I’ll come up with something.” My eyes slide to the ceiling. “I always do.”

  “If Lai says she’ll get something done, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Peter says. He gives Mendel a grin that the corporal doesn’t even try to return.

  “Thanks,” he says.

  “Buck up, we’ll get there!” Peter gives Mendel a solid thump on the back that just seems to make him more depressed. “We’re already a step further than we were five minutes ago.”

  “One step forward, two steps back,” Mendel mutters, but if Peter heard the words, he chooses to ignore them.

  “Sorry to leave so soon, but I’ve gotta be heading back,” Peter says. “Busy times these days.”

  The reminder of everything that needs doing in the Order before our meeting with the rebels tomorrow forces me out of my thoughts. “Thanks for taking the time to come out and help, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

  “Anytime,” Peters says. “You just let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

  “Will do.”

  When he’s gone, it’s just me and Mendel alone with our thoughts in a place that might or might not have a god condemning us as we sit in its place of worship.

  For once, I don’t lean in to hear Mendel’s thoughts. So I have no idea what he’s thinking or why he says it when the words come out of his mouth. “Hey, Cathwell. You think we could ever be friends?”

  “Us?” I ask in surprise. “Highly doubtful.”

  I don’t realize how harsh the words are until Mendel doesn’t say anything for a long time.

  Shit. That was uncalled for. I don’t know why I’m so scathing whenever Mendel is involved. Or maybe it’s a by-product of my recent fights with Jay and Al. If I can’t even get along with them, I don’t know how I could ever make a friendship with Mendel work.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he finally says. He looks up at the ceiling with blank eyes. “You know, I thought I couldn’t stand you because you’re so damn secretive. Always manipulating and fooling everyone, like it’s all some game to you. But then I realized it was because you remind me too much of myself. And I thought, if that’s the way it is for me, it’s probably the same for you, too, isn’t it?”

  I don’t answer.

  “We’re not very good people, are we?” He laughs softly. “Maybe that’s why we can’t get along.”

  “Being not very good people isn’t necessarily bad.” I think of Jay comforting me in the cave that day, of how he must have been terrified himself but focused on calming me down. How he looked out for me when he thought I was out of practice and even after he found out I wasn’t. I think of Al, always honest, always blunt, and always believing that what she did was right, that she was fighting for justice and the innocent.

  And I think of my own actions these past few years. How I’ve been sneaking off to the Order, how I’ve been deceiving so many people for so long that I don’t feel even a shred of guilt about it anymore. What the Order has managed to become because of my choices.

  “Very good people can’t always do what needs to be done,” I say. “The world needs people like us to get those things done and set everything straight.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night?” He shakes his head. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to cheer me up or make yourself feel better.”

  “Why would I ever try to cheer you up? You’re a Nyte. Suck it up.”

  He laughs. I think he might be as surprised by his reaction as I am. But when he shakes his head again, he’s smiling. “I haven’t said this yet, and don’t count on me ever saying it again, but thanks. For everything. You’ve really helped me out a lot, Lai.”

  Despite myself, I smile, too. “Don’t mention it, Erik.”

  26

  LAI

  I MEET UP with the core members of the Order in our usual room before the meeting with everyone else starts. I’m the last to arrive.

  “You said you had an update on the Councilors’ experiments?” Fiona asks as soon as I step through the door.

  “Always one to skip the greetings, aren’t you?” I ask.

  “We’re incredibly short on time, in case you’d forgotten.”

  “I hadn’t, but thanks for the reminder.” Before she can reply, I say, “This morning, I passed by some … interestin
g soldiers. They were delivering something for the Councilors, but didn’t know why. I don’t think they even knew what it was they were delivering. I couldn’t get any details from them, but I did recognize the buildings I saw in their thoughts.”

  I make my way to one of the maps on the table and point to an area in the west of the sector. Fiona, Trist, Peter, Paul, and Syon all lean in to get a better look.

  “Here,” I say. “This is where those soldiers were headed. It’s a grouping of old factories. I thought they were only used to make bycs and other transportation vehicles, but that might just be a ruse.” I bite my lip. “It might not be related to the Council’s experiments. Everything was pretty vague. But…”

  Fiona and Trist share a glance. “We will send a team to investigate,” Trist says, turning to me. “The sooner the better.”

  “Be careful,” I say. “We don’t know what’s there, or what the Council is working on. And if they catch on that someone is prying, who knows what they might do.”

  Everyone nods.

  “The meeting with everyone is starting soon,” Paul says. “We’d better go.”

  The meeting tonight is a smaller managerial one, with only Fiona, Trist, the eight captains, the various Helpers, Jay, and a select handful of others. Walker is glaringly absent. A fact no one misses.

  “Shouldn’t our leader be here at a time like this?” someone asks.

  “You know she’d be here if she could,” someone else whispers.

  “What is it she’s always disappearing to take care of anyway? Is it really more important than being here when the rebels made such a big move?”

  I listen to these mutterings and plenty of others while Fiona and Trist call our meeting to a start. My fingers tap against my arms. This close to war, Walker might have to start making more regular appearances.

  We’re in one of the larger conference rooms, but despite the abundance of chairs, no one sits. The tension is so heavy it’s a wonder anyone can breathe. Jay, Peter, Paul, and I hang at the back of the room.

  Jay glances at me. His thoughts are touched with nervousness, and he feels out of place among all these high-ranked members. He still wonders if he’s betrayed the military by joining the Order. He worries that he’ll ultimately end up failing us in some way.

  But when he takes my hand in his, I can feel his fingers trembling. Not with fear, but excitement. After the last few days of simply waiting to be sent into a trap, he finally feels like he’s able to do something here. Not just as a weapon of the military, but as a person.

  Fiona’s voice rings out over the assembly. She appears, as ever, cool and unconcerned. “As most of you already know from our emergency meeting a few days ago, the rebels have invited the military to a negotiations meeting. The military’s envoy is departing tomorrow morning to meet them, two of our members among them.”

  A few glances back at Jay and me. Jay grips his elbow self-consciously, but everyone’s attention soon returns to Fiona as she goes on. “In light of this, it seems necessary for us to make preparations for either war or peace.”

  “It is unlikely that the meeting is not a trap,” Trist says, taking over. “So we will prepare first for war.”

  An outbreak of mutterings makes it difficult for him to go on. The captains, however, all stand in silence or else reprimand those near them for interrupting.

  “Captains Peter and Paul, and the information division, will work with Lai tonight,” Fiona says once the room has quieted down again. “Captain Jair, you’ll be with me and Syon as we work with the defense team.”

  She goes on listing groups, but I send a thought to Jay. The whole Order will need to be prepared to act if the rebels declare war. Any suggestions on the matter?

  Me? Jay thinks back. He looks surprised to hear my voice in his head, but I guess this is the first time I’ve talked with him this way. Wait, I’m still not certain I understand. Why does the Order have to be prepared for war? This is a peace coalition, isn’t it?

  Well, yes, but if there’s war, we need to be prepared to defend ourselves and the people around us. For that, we have to take certain measures. You’re a good strategist. What do you think takes top priority?

  He considers. There appear to be a lot of members who live in Regail Hall, so securing defense here is the most important thing. But this place is secret, isn’t it? So that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. How do you keep all this a secret, anyway?

  With great care, multiple entrances to not draw so much attention, and Nytes who can cover our tracks.

  He doesn’t ask for details about the Nytes. Okay. So defense here shouldn’t prove too difficult. I suppose next would be stocking up on supplies? Food, water, anything that might be needed in the event of a lockdown.

  Which sounds easy enough until you consider the fact that most of our members have no money and we’re already low on food as it is.

  Then why not make your own?

  What?

  I mean, this place is kind of like the underground farms, right? There must be an area in all these tunnels that would be suitable for growing crops. It would cost a bit to start out, but you wouldn’t have to worry as much after that.

  I stare at him. And stare. And stare.

  As the information division gathers around us, I can’t stop myself from hugging him.

  “Ow, ow, hey, what happened?” Jay asks, bewildered, but happy, but embarrassed by all the people around us watching.

  “Jay, you’re brilliant! I need you to go talk to Trist and tell him your idea, and whatever specifics it’ll require. You know all about underground farms, so you know how to get one started up and how to maintain it, right?”

  “I mean, it’s been some time, but I suppose?”

  “Perfect.” I finally release him, and whatever expression he sees on my face must make him happy, because he’s suddenly beaming. “Go talk to Trist. Tell him I already approve of the plan and think we should get it going as soon as possible. You’ll have to write up notes and everything, but—”

  “Leave it to me,” Jay says. He hugs me back, quickly, tightly, before separating from our small group to go find Trist.

  Which leaves me standing amid a group of people awkwardly watching me. Peter gives me a grin and thumbs-up while Paul just shakes his head with a smile on his face.

  I clear my throat and try to keep any sign of embarrassment off my face. “Right, then. On to business.”

  * * *

  The walk back to the bookstore with its secret route into Central is heavy. The excitement of the idea of the Order having its own underground farm buzzed through the meeting room like an electric current, everyone jumping on board, several people being pulled from other groups to help Jay as he listed all the supplies we’d need to begin, the conditions to look for in a good place to grow crops, the basics of how to start it up and take care of it. People took notes, ran to get other members, asked a barrage of questions. Everything had to be written down with the unspoken understanding that Jay might not be able to return to explain or answer questions after this meeting with the rebels.

  Currently, both Jay and I are preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow, now only hours away. As we make our way through the still, mostly empty streets, I look at all the precarious buildings and connecting walkways and really take them in. Will this be the last time I ever see them?

  “The Order was really excited about your farm idea,” I say eventually. “It was great.”

  “It wasn’t that much,” Jay says, but inwardly, he’s still elated. I was finally able to do something good and helpful that didn’t involve fighting anyone.

  “Figuring out a permanent way to supply the Order with more food?” I say. “Yeah, that’s not much at all.”

  He laughs softly before we fall back into silence.

  Jay is the first to break it this time. “Hey, Lai. You think we’ll make it out of this meeting with the rebels? Be honest.”

  “I’m always honest.”

&n
bsp; He elbows me good-humoredly.

  I laugh and then stare out at the road stretching out before us, all the shops and homes, some familiar, some less so, but nevertheless an unchanging part of this path I always take. “I don’t know.”

  “I suppose not. How could anyone, really?”

  “You know, Paul’s gift is to see random instances of someone’s future. We could try asking him to use it on us and see if we even have a future.”

  Jay shudders involuntarily. “No thanks. Something like that is…”

  He doesn’t need to explain. It’s a terrifying gift to have used on you. If there’s nothing, you know you’re going to die, but not how or when. And even if you do see a glimpse of your future, it might be just as disturbing.

  Besides, Paul has been adamant about refusing to use his gift on others for years. I doubt he’d suddenly change his mind at a time like this, even if the request did come from me.

  That weight from before settles back over us like too-heavy armor.

  “I told Al about my gift yesterday,” I say to break the silence, and because I feel like Jay should know. Given that we barely spoke to each other all day, even at the team’s last joint training session this afternoon, it could be an issue during the mission. “Al … well, we fought about it.”

  I thought they were acting weird earlier. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  “It was bound to happen.” I try to keep how much it upsets me not to be friends with Al right now out of my voice. “I broke the trust between us. In a lot of ways.”

  “I’m sure it’s a difficult matter for both sides,” Jay says softly. His fingers slip through mine and tighten around them. “Just give it a little time. I’m sure he’ll come around. You’re close, after all.”

  “Time is something we don’t have,” I say as I squeeze his hand back. I look skyward without actually seeing anything.

  We continue walking for some time, hand in hand, a wall between us or above us or enclosing us.

  “Hey, did you know?” Jay says. “My name used to be Jiro Kitahara.”

  Not the smoothest of topic changes, but I do appreciate him trying to lighten the mood. “I know.”