He smiled free and easy, but she had killed to save him. The memory of tearing through the glassine and into the researchers burned through her. Alex had put his faith in a monster.
He searched her a minute, frowning. “When my brother died, I didn’t know it for days. He was missing, everyone knew logically that he was gone, but it was like I didn’t register it, couldn’t comprehend it. The things we saw in Evangecore… well, they didn’t leave a lot of room for simple things. It was survival, pure and simple. I still feel guilty about my brother, but don’t be like me — don’t dwell on what happened or didn’t happen. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we can go find him now.”
He nudged her on the shoulder, just once, barely — an action she was growing increasingly comfortable with. Following his gaze, she saw Grant and Luca several paces ahead, making their way to the end of the street and the large, open central square where the Speakers’ Tower loomed over them. Alex stayed beside her as they followed, the stream of folk taking them nearly to the based of the Central Hospital.
A gargantuan building in itself, seven stories high, the hospital was still dwarfed by the Speakers’ Tower. Somewhere, near the top of that tower, was Halud’s office. Maybe even Halud himself.
The entrances were guarded. A full tour around the outside of the building revealed soldiers standing guard every twenty metres.
“Is it just me, or is this place pretty locked down?” said Grant.
The others nodded. It had been a long time since any of them had been in a city, but even during the war, there hadn’t been this many soldiers in the central square on Earth.
The way the folk veered around the soldiers, it certainly seemed as though it were out of the ordinary.
Flecks of blue continually caught Sarrin’s eye as they stood watching.
“We need to ask someone,” said Sarrin, searching the moving crowds.
“What?” Grant’s eyes flashed, alarmed.
Before he could say more, she spun away. Before she could lose the idea in her head. Before her good senses could talk her out of it. She pushed into someone, blocking out the horrible sensation of their emotions as she got too close.
The person stumbled and tripped.
“Oh Gods, forgive me,” she said, forcing her eyebrows top and her mouth narrow in an approximation of surprise.
The man caught his balance and turned, looking at her. A fleck of blue waved from the seam of his jacket.
She cast her gaze down so he couldn’t see her eyes. Come at it sideways, Kieran’s voice popped into her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, making her voice airy and high pitched, “these guards just have me so flustered.”
“No worries, love. It has us all on edge.” He reached for her, placing a steadying hand on her arm. She forced herself not to flinch. An image of a workplace and a sense of urgency crossed, even through the thin fabric of the cloak.
She tugged on her cloak, revealing the piece of blue yarn that still lay there, woven into the fabric.
He bent his head towards her. “Rumour has it a group of rebels tried to break into the hospital labs.”
Sarrin’s heart jumped, and she pulled away. “I’m so sorry to have delayed you,” she blurted in a dry voice. She whipped around, moving as fast as she dared away from the man.
The others were pressed in the shadow of a building across from the guarded hospital. “How did you do that?” Grant asked, as she returned.
She shrugged. “Rebels tried to break into the hospital.”
“Rebels?”
“The same rebels that bombed Evangecore?”
Sarrin shook her head, a real smile creeping onto her features as her mind connected the dots. “I don’t know, but they were making the Xenoralia vaccine there that Halud reported on. And I would guess the same ‘vaccine’ that turned that baby into one of us.”
“No,” Grant scoffed. “That doesn’t make sense. If there’s a vaccine, they’re anticipating a resurgence of the virus. Maybe it’s already started and they don’t want to scare the folk.”
She was almost sure of it now — the vid she’d seen of Halud in the hospital had shown an infant. Not the same infant, but they had called for all parents to bring their babies for vaccination. Gal had said it: they made the Augments. The question was why.
“We need to find a way in,” Grant said, turning their attention back to the hospital.
They could get in, easily, by running through the guards and scaling the wall to the nearest window. But it would draw too much attention. So far it seemed there wasn’t an increase in patrols looking for her, but they didn’t need to push their luck.
Tracing the building again, Sarrin’s eye caught on the loading doors, and the small entrance beside them. Alex nearly ran into her. “The door,” she said.
“It doesn’t look right.”
She nodded. And then pointed to the wall beside it.
“A mark?” he asked. “Someone painted something there a long time ago, but I can’t quite make it out, it’s so faded.”
Indeed, it did look like they’d washed it several times and tried to paint over it, but her genetically enhanced vision picked it out. “A circle,” she said, “with two chevrons in the interior.”
Grant joined them. “What is it?”
A guard stirred, shifting his laz-rifle twenty paces to their right.
They moved away, finding another shaded, out of the way alcove to stand in.
“Someone forced the lock on that cargo door,” Alex said. His gaze shifted to Sarrin and she nodded at him to continue. “There’s a symbol on the wall.”
“A circle with two chevrons,” Sarrin confirmed. “It was pointed that way.” The three of them followed her outstretched finger. They’d seen the symbols in different cities during the war. The chevrons always pointed a different direction, painting a kind of path for them to follow. In the war, it had led the Augments to caches of food and supplies.
“John P’s symbol?” asked Grant.
"Yes," said Sarrin. What would it lead them to here?
* * *
Rayne cowered in her corner on the rooftop, curled up with the blanket drawn up to her face, staring into the cloudless sky.
Gal’s heart stabbed his chest with each constrained beat. She had barely moved, shooting laz-beams with her eyes every time he got too close. Better she was alive and hate him than be dead or tortured, he told himself.
He leaned against the grey half-wall, staring blankly until the buildings and paintings in the distance all blurred together.
“Are you really planning to hide here forever?”
Gal grunted at Aaron’s sudden reappearance.
“If it weren’t for the Augments collecting food and water, you’d have dehydrated yourself to death by now, I think.”
“Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Nope.”
Gal sighed again, dropping his head. His eyes caught on the cracked symbol painted on the buildings in front of him.
“This is a terrible plan, staying up here, hoping they don’t find us,” said Aaron, “and you know that. I know you know it.”
“It’s not terrible,” mumbled Gal.
Aaron shot him a look. “You used to be a brilliant strategist. This is the worst plan I’ve ever seen.”
“So many people died.”
“People die every day.”
“I miss you. The real you.”
“I’m still here, ish. I’m not really gone. That’s what they say.” Aaron leaned back against the wall casually, checking something on his hands. “But I wish you’d do something to honour me, you know.”
“I think about you every day — when it doesn’t hurt too much.”
“That’s not what I mean. I died thinking I was making a difference. I was happy to do it. We were helping the kids. And we did — help them, I mean.” He scrubbed hand over his face, as though trying to collect his thoughts. “I didn’t want to die, but I knew the risk. I was
okay with it because we succeeded.”
“We didn’t succeed at anything.”
Aaron held up a hand to stop him. “We did. But only part. I thought people would still be there to carry on. I died thinking we were at least a step closer. But you let me down, Gal.”
That was the truth, wasn’t it?
His friend crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanted us to win. I helped us get close. But I couldn’t finish. That was up to you, and you failed.”
Gal hung his head, glancing at Rayne. He had failed. At everything.
“I don’t mean in the war. I don’t mean the cause. You failed me.”
He nearly choked. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Do something about it. There’s still time.”
Gal shook his head repeatedly, unable to answer.
“Don’t, Gal. Don’t make excuses. Don’t hide.”
“I’m not making excuses.”
“You’re telling me you honestly don’t care anymore. You can just turn your back on everything.”
“I still care. But I care more about my life.”
“Aren’t they the same?”
“No,” he shouted. Aaron didn’t get it, didn’t see the years after he had died. He ran a hand through his hair to calm down. “I can’t save them and save myself. It’s one or the other.”
“I think they’re the same.”
“The minute Cordelia dropped us on this planet, it signed my death warrant. I have to get off the planet.”
“Who cares. It’s been signed for years. But, guess what, you’re still not dead.”
“And I want to keep it that way!”
“You need to go to the rebels, to the symbol. The fact that it’s painted there… it means something.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. It could be something completely different. The people who painted it probably have no idea what it means.”
“But you do.”
“It means death.”
Aaron snapped, “It’s a symbol. It means whatever you want it to mean.”
"Don't blame this all on me," he shouted. Gal jabbed his finger into Aaron’s chest. “You died. You left.”
Aaron pulled back. “Not by choice. I would have stayed if I could.”
“No, of course it’s my fault. My fault. I’m the one that took us there that night. It was my plan.” His voice cracked, and he gasped in a shaky breath.
“The plan worked," said Aaron. "I just got caught.”
Movement caught the corner of Gal’s eye. He turned, heart pounding wildly. He’d forgotten she was there. He’d been yelling at Aaron, at a figment of his cracked mind, out loud.
Rayne stared back, frozen in place. Her eyes were wide, her feet turned towards the descent at the half wall.
“Do. Not. Leave,” he commanded. He pointed directly at her, then motioned for her to sit down, like a child. A wave of confusion took him -- he really was cracked.
Her eyes flared, and she stumbled back, as though from a physical blow.
He shut his eyes, remembering how he had thrown her. Hurt her. What was happening to him?
“I’m going to see my father,” she said, her voice steady.
“No.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your prisoner.”
“If you go to him, you’ll doom us all.”
“You’re cracked.”
“Maybe.” Probably.
She took a step towards the wall.
He took two towards her.
“I’m going to go see the general,” she said. “Someone needs to get this sorted out.” She took another step.
His brain buzzed until the words exploded out, “Hap has standing orders for my death. If I’m caught here, I’ll die.”
She stood shocked for a minute. “The Gods don’t kill people,” she said. “They love us all if we let them.”
“The Gods don’t kill people, but the Speakers do.”
“You’re cracked," she shouted wildly. "They are the descendants of the Gods, they hear the Will of the Gods!”
“Hap is dangerous," Gal shouted back, letting go of any semblance of sanity. "I don’t even know what he’s capable of anymore. The things we’ve seen them do to the Augments….”
“They don’t know that the Augments aren’t out to hurt us!”
“What," he snarked, "the Gods couldn’t tell them?”
She gasped.
“We can’t be caught. I don’t know what delusions the Speakers have, or that the general has. I don’t know what would happen to you.”
“My father —.”
“Forget it! He’s Strength’s General. He’s —.” A voice, his conscience, stopped him. She could at least believe the man she loved wasn’t a monster.
“You’re delusional, Gal. I’ve seen you talking to yourself, arguing. There’s no one there.” She gestured into the empty space, right at Aaron. “Let me help you. You’ve had a hard time. Hoepe said the JinJiu could have lasting effects for weeks, even months. This isn’t you.”
“You want to know why I run Freight in the Deep Black — the Speakers promised death would find me if I ever showed my face on a central planet again.”
“That’s spread.” But the gears started turning, he could see it on her face, why one of Hap’s favoured captains had been suddenly demoted to the worst haul run in Freight, why he had stayed there for years. “He wouldn’t do that. Why would he say that?”
“Don’t you get it. I might be delusional sometimes, but it’s only because I’m trying to forget. I blew up a UEC ship to protect Cordelia.”
“Cordelia?” She shook her head, as if shaking the dangerous thoughts from it. “But Hap was your friend.”
“There are no friends here.”
“Surely, my dad….”
“Stop, Rayne.”
“You blew up a UEC ship? Like you blew up the Ishash’tor.”
He stared off into the distance, angry that he'd said too much. Or said too little. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I told you, sometimes I am delusional. I drank a lot of JinJiu. I had a lot to forget.”
“You need help.”
“Maybe. I need you to stay here.”
“The First Speaker doesn’t want you killed.” But there was an edge of doubt in her voice.
“He definitely does.”
“You’re cracked.”
“Are you going to stay on the roof or not?”
“Am I a prisoner.”
“Are you going to stay?”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
But she turned, stepping back toward the centre of the roof. “I’m going to make you see how wrong you are.” And she pressed her five fingers into her chest and prayed.
* * *
Sarrin made her way to the bottom of a building with the symbol high on its wall, following its direction down a long alley. It emerged into a quiet intersection, and the four Augments stood looking for their next clue. A surveillance drone whizzed by, and Sarrin ducked her head.
Luca pointed to a symbol in a window, and they followed it, finding the next symbol on a streetlight. Tucked into shadowed crevices, painted in miniature. They were hard to see, easy to miss if you didn’t know to look, but the signs were everywhere. They followed quickly through a warren of small alleys and narrow streets, deep in the residential subdivisions of the city. With each next sign, her heart raced faster and faster, her feet drawing her closer to Halud.
He might not be there — it was a long shot at best, but it didn’t stop her heart from hoping.
Another drone buzzed overhead. For a minute it paused, swivelling where it hovered, then whizzed away.
“A lot of drones today,” said Alex.
Grant shrugged. “More guards, more drones. The city’s on lockdown.”
“I don’t see another symbol, do you?” said Luca.
Sarrin shook her head, her eyes darting over every surface in the quiet square they now found themselves
in. The corners of her vision started to darken and fade. She saw pops of blue everywhere, but when she looked, the folk walking past were all clad in grey on grey, their faces neutral. Where was Halud?
“We’ll look around.” Grant pushed past, stepping into the middle of the square, out in the open. Luca followed, moving in an opposite direction, watching carefully even though there was no one else in the square.
The edges of her vision fuzzing, Sarrin moved into one of the streets leading away and searched for the circle with two chevrons.
Another drone paused, its whirring motors taunting, and she ducked down.
The others passed signals back and forth — nothing found. Her eyes met Grant’s — there had been nothing in this direction either. The trail had run cold. She lifted her hand to give the signal, but her eyes caught on something far more interesting: a silver chain, tarnished and nearly blending in to the grey on grey, dangled from the step of a rickety side door.
She wouldn’t have seen it had she not crouched down to avoid the drone.
Scrambling forward, she pressed on the door, feeling it creak open, and pulled at the chain. It nearly pulsed in her hands, still warm from whoever had held it last. She would have recognized the attached pendant anywhere, with its round shape, and rough silver work, and the blue stone set in the centre.
“What is it?” Grant asked, jogging up behind her. The others were close behind.
“Halud’s,” she said simply. "Our..." -- she frowned, a memory assaulting her out of nowhere -- "our Father made it." He'd been a rebel then too, or something like it.
Her clouded vision focussed on the door — unmarked but the right place all the same — and she pushed inside. “Halud!”
A hand clamped over her mouth mid-shout: Grant. A flood of his terror bled through her where skin met skin. Of course, she’d been too excited, reckless, foolish to shout out.
Grant stumbled away as though he’d been burnt — she noted it vaguely as she stepped into the small, dark, empty room.
The others shuffled in behind her, the rickety door shutting behind them. Sarrin’s vision started to cloud over. The small room was too much like Evangecore, too much like the Uruhu cage. Her mind played sounds: the clicking and whirring of hydraulics, the zap of laz-beams.
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