In private, as well, Julia whispered about the movement among the Whites, especially with her father. Some among the royalty were surprisingly receptive, though more because they wanted the monarchy’s power restored than because they cared about destroying the Prism. Regardless of their motivations, though, we needed the power of the royals if we wanted to make progress.
The UPF was watching Julia with interest. She had quickly become a sharp thorn in their side as the informal face of the reform movement but had her family’s immunities. The UPF would be taking a major political risk if they acted against her. The monarchy was the Prism’s weak point, and we intended to exploit it as much as possible. Even my plan didn’t account for the massive following she had obtained among the Reds and Oranges.
Her more public status changed how she could move throughout the Twin Cities. In addition to the usual little girls, she now had political supporters carrying homemade Fracture flyers with her face on them and chasing her down for a picture and an autograph. Julia had risen from the cute, quiet third-born princess to a political idol, and it was rough for her at first. While she was outgoing and charismatic, she enjoyed her space at times and struggled to adapt to the constant attention and pressure. More than once I had to push people away as she became overwhelmed.
Not everyone was supportive, though, and the negative pressure had begun to creep into her head. Many of her friends beyond her closest ones had become more distant in the recent weeks. Many Whites, Purples, and Blues felt calls for reform were an attack on their way of life and that there was a reason the Oranges and Reds were the colors that they were. She couldn’t please everyone, despite the fact she took a more moderate position than the Militia and acted diplomatically. Sometimes we even had to bring a couple of royal guards along with us as extra protection from the occasional heckler or someone trying to get in her face. She was brave, but it was a dangerous position for her to be in, and I felt responsible for it.
While busy with this political outreach, Julia also used her connections throughout the city along with her new, yet to be opened, orphanage to assist in the relocation of Reds. Our system for shuttling Reds around the city undetected had been effective, and because of her, we had successfully hidden thousands throughout the Twin Cities: both Militia and not. It was an accomplishment, but it was temporary, and we needed to move quickly; it would only be a matter of time before the secret police discovered many of them.
During this period, I decided that more frequent trips to the Enclave were worth the risk. We were in the final stage of preparation for Operation Blackout, and El Capitan had called one final meeting ahead of the operation itself.
The Twin Cities based lieutenants and agents gathered with El Capitan around the pool table in the war room, and our out-of-town lieutenants listened in over our radio system. In front of us were the blueprints for the four UPF security stations. There was one for each target city: St. Paul, Minneapolis, Milwaukee, and Des Moines.
El Capitan ran his hand through his red beard and pointed at each blueprint, giving each squad its tactical instructions. We had gone over them a dozen times, but the plan needed to be executed to perfection. In two days, it would be all or nothing.
When he finished with the squad-specific instructions, he stood up straighter and spoke to us all, “It is crucial that we deliver the virus into each security station. If we don’t, they’ll keep their cameras and systems up in that district, and all of this will have been for nothing. Zeus and I have everything in position for alpha squad in St. Paul.” He looked towards one of the radios. “Husky, how are beta squad’s preparations in Des Moines?”
Husky’s voice crackled through the radio. “UPF activity has increased in the area recently, but we will be ready. The rifles and flash drives arrived yesterday.”
El Capitan nodded. “Good. Caesar?”
“Charlie squad is finalizing preparations in Milwaukee. We had some difficulties finding a van but have an exchange scheduled for tonight. We’ll make sure it’s ready in time.”
El Capitan examined the Milwaukee blueprint for a moment. “Make sure that thing gets reinforced. The last thing we need is y’all getting shot up in the van.”
“Affirmative, captain.”
I took a deep breath as El Capitan paced to the Minneapolis blueprint and looked up at me. “Coyote, how’s delta squad?”
I crossed my arms. “Preparations have been slow, with the effort to relocate people taking priority, but we are almost there, thanks to Poseidon and Delaware.” I smiled at my mentor and my mentee, both to my right. He nodded, and she grinned. “Aaron is holding the ammunition for me to transport to the Longfellow safehouse. I’ll have that finished tonight.”
El Capitan sighed. “Make sure it gets done, Coyote. Minneapolis is the heart of their power. We can’t afford to cut corners.” I nodded, and he continued, speaking to everyone as he walked around the room, “If each squad executes the plan, in two days, we will have dealt a massive blow to the UPF’s power, blinding them. This will be our biggest step yet towards freeing ourselves from the Prism, and it will be because of the work of all of you.”
Silence hung over the room as he finished, standing in front of the table. A looked of pride crept over his face as he looked each of us in the eye. He paused when his eyes met mine. I nodded to him. “The eye goes blind.”
He nodded. “You’re all dismissed. Good luck to you all.”
Poseidon put a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s take a walk.”
I followed him out of HQ and down a side route near the entrance. I kicked some of the rocks along the path. “Am I doing the right thing, Poseidon?”
My mentor stuck his hands in his pocket and sighed. “Many of the more aggressive agents have questioned your actions. They think you’re too close with the monarchy.”
I looked into the night and thought for a moment. “And what do you think?”
He gazed at the stars. “I think that you’ve found another way to fix things, and they’re too blind to see that there’s more than one way to skin a cat. It’s impossible to know whether it’s the right thing, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years, Coyote, it’s that in a place like this, opportunities to do something meaningful don’t come every day. You’ve been given a position where you might be able to change things without guns and bombs. You’d be an idiot to not at least try.”
I took a deep breath. “But what if I have to choose between the Militia and the allies I’ve made among the royals?”
He smiled. “I don’t think it’s that simple. Princess Julia has had an impact because of you. Don’t let a mask come between you and what you think is right. The Militia needs Coyote, but soon, the world may need Ivan.”
I stopped walking and thought about that for a moment. I’ve missed these talks. “I think it might be time, soon, for Delaware to take over my position. She’s ready.”
Poseidon chuckled and pulled out a half-finished cigarette, lighting it as he thought. “That girl is tougher than you and me combined. She’s ready. Hell, she’ll be our best lieutenant if Snapback doesn’t distract her too much.” He took a puff and blew out the smoke. “You’ve done well with her, son.”
“Thanks, Poseidon. I appreciate it.” I looked around at the buildings. “So much has changed so quickly. It’s crazy to think this place will be abandoned soon.”
He took another puff of his cigarette. “They’ve tried to kill us time and time again, yet here we are. If this is finally our time, at least we’re going out with a bang.”
I shook my head. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
He blew out a puff of smoke. “Sometimes, you don’t have a choice.”
Chapter 47
Julia and I watched the news coverage of her most recent statements in her room, and, of course, the state-run media was spinning the story to claim she was an out-of-touch monarchist who wanted to “reverse the last century of progress.” We knew that we could never control
the traditional media, but her appearances had been crucial to making the arguments, allowing people to draw their own conclusions, even if she was so often drowned out by the propaganda. Unfortunately, the UPF had quietly banned her from appearing on television anymore in an attempt to quell the outrage.
Julia laid across the couch in her room, her legs over my lap as she watched, scowling at the TV. “It’s all lies, and so many people don’t see any of it. I didn’t know about the reality of it until I met you. There’s so much ignorance, reinforced by the media.”
I shook my head. “It’s disgusting, but they haven’t censored you enough.” I raised up my newly acquired cell phone. “This is the most powerful tool in the world, and they still can’t handle it, no matter how many people they try to arrest. Even the new social media bans haven’t worked.”
The UPF had finally had enough of the reformers’ messages spreading across social media and, following Julia’s verbal showdown with the General, attempted to cut off the country from social media. Within hours of the cutoffs, though, hackers had found a way around the block, and newer, underground and uncensored networks had begun to gain prominence. People were angry at how they’d been lied to and lost the privacies they believed that they had in addition to the base discontent around the Prism itself. For the first time, a significant number of the Yellows and most Oranges finally were beginning to see why the Reds were fighting so hard for change.
She looked down. “I hate seeing so many people in jail because of what I started.”
I rubbed her legs in reassurance. “You didn’t start this, but you gave the people a voice. The arrests are only making your arguments stronger, and besides, when they arrest and kill people, they lose even more support. We have them on the hook. The only way to prevent more deaths and arrests is to move forward with the plan. Operation Blackout is tonight, so now we have the catalyst and the pressure; it’s time to execute.”
She groaned. “Do you think it’ll actually work?”
I bit my cheek. “Yes. It has to.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll be dead, so I won’t have anything to worry about.”
She curled in her legs and held them defensively, her eyes drooped and lost. Without her saying anything, I knew what she was thinking. That was too much. I wished I could reassure her, but at the moment, I couldn’t even convince myself that everything would be fine. It was unfair to her. She had enough to worry about without me reminding her that I could die. She’d seen the scars: she knew the risk.
I lowered my head solemnly. “I’m sorry. It’s just… facing death is too normal of an occurrence to me. I forget this is still new to you.” Dread sunk into me. These missions were normal for me, so why was I worried about this one all of a sudden? We had trained and prepared for this for over a year, yet all I could think about was the risk of it, heading into the heavily guarded snake pit.
She looked up at me, wounded. Her hands shook, and she pursed her lips. When she spoke, it was cold and direct, “You don’t get to just run into my life, take my heart, and then die, Ivan. Do you know what it felt like for me when you were gone to get that journal or climbing between buildings attacking rapists, or when I saw you barely alive with your skull beaten in?”
A chill went down my spine as I searched for a response, but I had nothing. She was right, of course. I acted too often without much regard for the consequences or what the risk meant for my life, or hers. It was unnatural for me to have someone outside of the Militia worried about me. In all my realizations about how much I needed her and how I couldn’t lose her, I selfishly missed an important part of love: She needs me too. My death would tear a hole in her heart.
I struggled to meet her eyes. She continued. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you while I sat here in this marble prison. Sometimes, it seems like I value your life more than you do.”
I bit my lip, ashamed that I had unknowingly hurt her and that she had waited so long to tell me. “You… you’re right.” I looked at her softly. “I never thought what it would be like for you. My whole life, I’ve never had anyone to come back home to, until now. I’m so sorry, Julia. I didn’t realize… Please forgive me.”
Her eyes met mine as she analyzed my face sorrowfully. “Tell me it is going to be okay.”
I slid behind her, wrapping my arms around her. Our breaths fell in sync as she calmed slowly. “It will be okay. I will be safe, I promise. We have planned for every possible scenario, and none of those involve me leaving the bravest and most amazing woman I know alone in the world.”
She whispered, “Promise?”
I pulled her tight to me and kissed the back of her head. “I promise. I love you more than anything or anyone in this world, and I will come back to you every time, no matter what.”
There was a soft series of knocks at the door. Don’t make me get up. I comfortably held Julia on the couch, feeling her long breaths and calm heartbeat through my chest. It was the best feeling in the world, a rare moment of intimate privacy with the woman I loved. I did not appreciate it being interrupted. I sighed and kissed her on the cheek as I rose. “I’ll get it.”
She smiled softly. “Thanks, Ivan.”
I assumed the visitor to be either Michael or a guard. My assumption was wrong. Instead, Princess Helena stood at the door, her face questioning why I was there and not her sister. Helena’s oblong face showed her English genes from her father more than her older sisters, who resembled their mother. She was only fifteen, but she liked to shadow her older sisters, learning every step of the way. Despite her age, she let her opinion be known, though, she knew her place as the youngest princess. On a “properness” scale from Natasha to Alexandria, she was close to the former, having studied her oldest sister’s perfectionism. Her wide eyes narrowed. “Is Julia in?”
I nodded and opened the door wide, stepping back for her to enter. “She is, m’lady.”
Helena smiled softly at her older sister and straightened her knee-length coral dress before sitting properly across from her. Julia sat up, returning the warmness. “Good morning, Helena. How are you?”
Aware of Helena’s dedication to the rules, I stood near the door at attention. Julia looked at me before turning her attention back to her youngest sister, whose eyes looked upon Julia with admiration. She really did look up to her older sisters… except Alex. Julia was really the only one in the family who got along with the rebel sister. Julia took that respect seriously and tried to be an example, though Helena didn’t approve of her little rebellions. It was tough to be the youngest. She wanted to do her best and, well, matter. With her sixteenth birthday rapidly approaching, she was nervous about her non-royal friends, who were about to pass through the Prism. It’s not an easy time.
Even if passing through the Prism was more of a celebration than a test for the Purples and Blues, there was always the occasional failure, followed by a lonely life as a stain on their family’s spotless reputations. For many, that was too much to bear, and suicide rates were tragically high among those whose color was lower than their parents’. There was no support for those struggling post-Prism, except in groups like the Militia where the entire idea of the Prism was rejected. When you lived your entire life groomed for one thing, only to fail, it was hard to find purpose. So many lives lost because of a stupid test.
Helena’s voice was proper, even when talking to her sister, though it lacked Michael’s condescending tone. “I am well. Though, mother and I are worried about you.”
Julia fiddled with her family ring and stuck her tongue in her cheek. We both knew why Helena was there already. “I appreciate the concern, but I am fine. The protestors have been annoying, but what I’m doing is important, Hel. Anyways, if mother is concerned with things, she can tell me herself.” She can sting with that wit.
Helena clicked her tongue, thinking intently as her sister exposed their mother’s ruse. “Mother believes you’re raising popular sup
port to challenge Natasha.”
Julia crossed her legs and ran her hands along her dark jeans, her eyes studying her sister. “What do you think?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“You shouldn’t listen to mom all the time. She’s using you as part of her game.”
“You have yet to answer the question.”
Julia laughed sarcastically. “No, sometimes there is more to life than the throne, Helena. Is Natasha worried? If she bothered to talk to me, she would realize that I respect her and dad’s wishes, and, unless something changes, I have no plan to actively pursue the throne and am unaware of any support among the electors.”
She’s wrong about that last part. Natasha was seen as the passive and safe choice, but unlike many of the presumed heirs of the past, she really hadn’t established herself outside of her father’s shadow; she was a proper princess but not a leader in many royals’ eyes. As the oldest, though, she likely still had the backing of most of the electors, but some were looking for another option. Julia’s independence and diplomatic demeanor had resulted in some whispers in support of her.
The royal electors, consisting of the adult members of all royal houses, met following the death of a ruler. Any royal could be nominated to be the next King or Queen, but traditionally the first nomination was always the oldest child of the previous ruler, if they had one. The winner only needed a simple majority of the vote, with more rounds of voting taking place, if required, as the lowest ranking nominee was eliminated. There hadn’t been a contested election since the foundation of Northern Mississippi, though, as Timothy Hughes II and III were elected unanimously. Ironically, this system made the monarchy the most republican part of our government, even if only the royals could vote.
The Fractured Prism (The Prism Files Book 1) Page 21
