“It’s okay. You are allowed to say her name. I won’t fall apart.” My frantic heart begs to differ. I haven’t spoken to Mel or Ruby about the situation between Ari and me, but she must have or else they are just connecting the dots. Though they appear to be somewhat informed, they haven’t broached the subject beyond cursory remarks. Both girls tiptoe around me as if they’re stepping on broken glass. Something occurs to me then. I stop in my tracks and grab Mel by the arm. “Is that why you are both doing it?”
“Doing what?” Her eyes flit to my hand and I release my hold.
“The whole Florence Nightingale act. Is it because you pity me?”
“What? No! You’re a friend who is going through a tough time. We want to be there for you. Is that so bad?”
As quickly as my anger reared its ugly head, it dies away. “No, it’s not. It’s not bad at all.”
When I step into the amphitheater, I’m surprised to find only Malcolm and Calista waiting for me. “Am I too early?”
“We wanted to speak to you in private before the others arrive,” Calista says.
“We’ve good news,” Malcolm adds, smiling.
“You’ve found Mom?” I allow myself to feel a smidgen of hope.
“Yes. We’ve located them and we’re getting ready to make our move,” he confirms.
I step closer to him, my boots almost toe to toe with his. The questions fly out of my mouth. “Are they okay? Safe? When will you rescue them?”
“They are both fine,” he says, in a reassuring tone. “We’ll make contact with them in the next few days.”
“It has to be carefully planned,” Calista says, patting my hand. “We assumed the government was going to target other Velo gateways after they blew up those few in Europe, but they appear to have changed their minds. We think they have assigned spies to monitor activity instead. We don’t want to risk transporting civilians until we’ve checked all entry points and secured them. The gate in New York will be cleared imminently, and then we can move your family.”
“Thank you.” My voice is shaky, laden with emotion.
The others arrive shortly after that and the meeting commences. Calista explains that the government has ramped up their Vita implementation program and they are targeting central states. She asks if I can hack in and try to locate their schedule so we can target their teams and halt the process. I agree to get on it immediately and to coordinate with Malcolm on our troops’ schedule.
She also outlines the communications strategy which is about to hit the airwaves. It’s a focused series of information bulletins, which will be screened live across the country, advising people of the threat the government poses and explaining about Saoirse and the global rebel movement. Intel received from COs on the ground highlights the level of mistrust within the general population, and these bulletins are a way of trying to earn some of that much-needed support.
I can totally relate. Most people on Earth are completely ignorant to what is really going on, and any government news feeds they receive are pure propaganda aimed at misleading the nation. The authorities have shown them live executions of convicted informants, and most people have been terrorized into submission. We need to fight back.
It’s encouraging to see things moving forward, but we are still well away from our aim of being in a position to wrangle control. My team is making headway on the IT project, but there’s a lot more to be done before I can give the green light.
So much still hangs in the balance, and it could go either way at this point.
Malcolm asks to speak to me alone after the meeting. We head to the small coffee dock on the ground level. Taking a seat at a table in the furthest corner of the room, I wait for Malcolm to start. “It’s wonderful about your mom and Eli.”
“I know, but I won’t fully relax until they are both here.”
“I understand completely.” He stares off into space and gulps. Refocusing, he faces me. “I fear I may have made a mistake in sending Ari away.” He blows on his coffee before lifting the cup to his lips.
I put mine down and peer into his eyes. “What’s happened?”
“Micha Kloon has gone off the grid. I’m concerned she may be going after Ari.”
When I came back from Greece, I talked to Malcolm about Siva, explaining Ari’s suspicion that he was Micha’s son. Malcolm was able to fill in the gaps. President Calavero sat in on Ari’s memory erase procedure, and he must have been the one to notify his sister. Malcolm also recalled a previous conversation with Micha where she admitted that she’d had a son out of wedlock when she was just seventeen. Directly after our conversation, Malcolm had asked one of our Novo sympathizers to keep track of Micha, to be on the safe-side.
“Crap.” Knots twist in my stomach. “I can try and find a lock on her.”
“Are you sure you have time? It sounds to me like there’s a lot riding on your shoulders.”
“I’ll ask Ben to run the software recognition program through the data feeds on a continual basis. There’s a slight risk of detection, but screw that if Ari is in danger.” I slump in my chair, panic building at an alarming rate.
“I could be over-reacting, but I don’t want to take any chances. I’ve notified our allies on the ground and I’ve gotten word to Aldo. He’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Are you going to bring her back here?” One part of me prays that his answer is yes, and the other part hopes it’s a no.
“Not yet. I don’t want to transfer her until I know where Micha is. Plus, we still need to secure the gateways. My hands are tied for the next couple of weeks at least.” He props his elbows on the table and buries his head in his hands.
I reach out to him. “She’ll be okay. She has her gift and she knows how to defend herself.”
He looks up at me. “I know, but I can’t help worrying.”
Thing is, neither can I.
I’m at my desk the following morning when Ben hops up, shrieking. “Zane, quick. You need to see this.”
Pushing back my chair, I dash to his side. The image on his screen is paused, the picture blurry. My eyes narrow in on the screen, and I can just about make out a blonde head in black combat uniform crouching down in a side lane. Several figures squat similarly in front and behind her. “Is it her?” My eyes don’t move from the image.
“Yes, I think so. Look,” Ben says, tapping a report. The program has identified Isla. It’s her. She’s alive.
I slap him on the back. “Thanks, man.” I slump down in the empty chair beside him, my body almost folding in on itself with relief.
“You thought she was dead?”
I nod. At this stage, I had pretty much given up hope. “This is great news.” I swivel in my chair. “Where is she?”
“This was captured at ten p.m. last night in Stafford,” he confirms. So, she’s still in the area. Figures.
“Any sign of Micha?”
“Nothing yet but I’ll keep on looking.”
I’m itching to ask him if he has spoken to Cal, to find out whether he has been in contact with Ari. But I can’t make myself ask him. It isn’t fair to place him in the middle, and I know he’s trying to be a friend to both of us. So I say nothing and head off in search of Malcolm instead.
It isn’t difficult to track Malcolm down. He’s in his usual lair in Command Center. Advising that I’ve located Isla, I tell him that I need to go and see her. He agrees to organize something.
Later on that night, a group of us gathers in the fake garden on the lower level. Ruby’s head is snuggled in Jaden’s lap and his fingers drift in and out of her hair. It’s still strange to see them together. That’s a pairing I never would’ve predicted. She’s a good influence on him, though. While he’s still a douche, it’s toned down a notch.
“What are you going to do about Isla?” Ben asks. Mel sits cross-legged beside him and her ears perk up.
“I’m going to Stafford to talk to her. I need to know that she’s okay.”
“Can I co
me?” Mel asks, sitting up on her knees.
“It’s too dangerous, Mel.” She arm punches me. “Ow.” I rub my arm. Man, that girl has a mean right hook on her.
She pins me with a look of derision. “How long will you be gone? A couple of days at most?”
“Most likely.”
She twirls a lock of blonde hair around her finger and looks up at me through a fan of wide, long lashes. “And you’ll be under some unit’s command, I assume?”
I nod. She wets her lips.
“Then I really don’t think it’s that dangerous.” She tilts her head to the side, smiling sweetly at me.
Her blatant charm offensive hasn’t gone unnoticed, but in that moment, she reminds me so much of Ari that I falter. If Ari was confined here, and itching for a change of scenery, she would totally invoke the same ploy. Maybe that’s why I consent, or perhaps I just take pity on her.
“Don’t make me regret this, but yeah, okay, you can tag along.”
“Yay!” She scoots over and flings her arms around my neck.
Jaden chuckles out loud. “Ulterior motives, sis?”
Mel scowls. “Shut up, Jaden.”
“Stop teasing, Jay,” Ruby scolds.
“What?” he asks, the picture of innocence. Lifting his head to Mel, he says, “I think it’ll take more than a fluttering of your eyelashes to get Dad to agree to that plan.”
“Who said anything about asking him?”
“Wait a minute …” My voice trails off as the initial protest dies on my tongue. I can’t stand Commander Remus, and if this ticks him off, then sign me up for that. I’ll make sure to keep Mel safe, and as she says, it’s only a day or two at most; how much trouble could we encounter?
Two nights later, Mel and I are lounging in the Velo station waiting for Malcolm to escort us. Mel hops from foot to foot, her nervous excitement almost palpable. It dredges up the memory of another night. With a pang, I recall the night of Ari’s fifteenth birthday, when I’d surprised her with a nighttime dinner in a cave that bordered the edge of my best friend Gil’s family vacation estate. I remember how she had bounced excitedly down the path toward the beach, her thrill obvious.
I’ve got to stop thinking of Ari at every juncture, but it’s difficult to switch my brain off when it’s so attuned to thinking of her twenty-four-seven. My thoughts drift to Gil, as they have regularly over the last few years. I never got to say goodbye to my best bud the day that everything turned to crap on Earth. I was so distraught at being separated from Ari that nothing or no one else had crossed my mind until it was too late. When I’d reconnected with Malcolm, I’d asked him about it, and he’d confirmed that Gil’s family moved to Novo. At least he is safe, and I hope that one day we will see each other again.
Approaching footsteps drag me out of my inner thoughts. As Malcolm rounds the corner, he stalls when he spies Mel. “I wasn’t aware you were joining us, Mel. Your father never mentioned it.”
“It was kind-of last minute, sir,” she lies. Malcolm looks at me and I return his stare with a neutral look. Now I feel guilty. This is sure to cause more trouble between the two men, and if I’d stopped to consider that a couple of nights ago, I might have been more reticent about agreeing.
But it’s too late to do a U-turn now.
The Velo approaches, and as the three of us step onboard, I sincerely hope that I’ve made the right decision.
CHAPTER 11
Malcolm escorts us off the Velo at the New York gateway. A powerful desire to track down Mom takes root inside me. I wish I’d thought to factor this in before we set out. I blurt out my intent. While Malcolm understands my request, it’s far too risky without advance notice. He insists that we stick with the pre-arranged plan, and I have to reluctantly agree. It’s difficult though. To think I’m in the same state as my family. So close but still so far.
Our ride is waiting when we reach high ground. We clamber in the back of the large Humvee, and it eases out onto the pavement. The streets are deathly quiet, the roads empty except for the odd passing vehicle. The driver weaves in and out of back streets and side alleys and bypasses main routes as much as possible to avoid detection.
Mel dozes beside me, her head slouched against my shoulder. Malcolm and the driver converse in hushed voices.
It takes about four hours to reach the old Clementia warehouse in Connecticut. The rebels have successfully taken over the facility, and it’s now a makeshift home for Saoirse soldiers, local rebels, and emancipated civilians. We are shown to some empty bunks, and we try to snatch a few hours’ sleep before it’s time to venture out on our search.
We vacate the warehouse at six a.m. with one of the local units. Apparently, there is a rebel base just outside Stafford Ranger Town, which Malcolm feels is the best place to start the search. Daylight is just breaking as we commence the journey. Huddled in the back of the old army van, I am wedged between Mel and one of the unit soldiers. The men stare straight ahead, wearing bleak expressions, no doubt mentally preparing themselves for the day ahead.
Mel throws up the minute we exit the van. I sweep her hair away from her face while she spews. Handing her a bottle of water, I am already questioning the wisdom of bringing her here. Malcolm gave me a stern lecture earlier after he got off a call with Commander Remus. He’s none too pleased with either of us, but there isn’t anything he can do about it now.
The local rebel base has been gobbled up by the makeshift base established by Saoirse for their soldiers. Rows of white pods occupy the full width of the field. Several military vehicles are parked off to the left, and men and women in military attire, guns slung over their shoulders, congregate in small groups or mill about the space. I spot a couple of large tents in the center, one with a painted red cross and letters spelling out MEDICAL on the roof. The adjacent similar-sized tent is clearly identifiable as the cafeteria and the third a military Command Center. Looking around, all I can see are people and pods, as far as my eye can stretch.
I’m surprised that such a base is so open and exposed. I shudder. Malcolm spots the movement and raises a brow. “It’s very exposed. Is it wise given the increase in targeted government attacks?” I pose what has to be an obvious question.
“We’ve deployed an early warning detection system that will spot any air attack from two hundred miles out. Soldiers man it around the clock, so we’ll have adequate time to disperse if the authorities attack. The local rebels have also dug underground hideouts all over the forest at the rear,” he says, gesturing over my head, “So, worst case scenario, we can flee there. Don’t worry; you’re surrounded by some of the most experienced military we have. You’ll be safe here.”
Though his words sink into my brain, they don’t do much to reassure me. I feel decidedly on edge. It’s probably not that surprising when I think about it. I’ve always felt much more at home chained to a desk than leading the charge at the front.
I scan my surroundings again. This place is vast, much bigger than I anticipated, and I don’t know how we’re expected to find Isla out here. My shoulders slump forward dejectedly. “Hey?” Mel says, tilting my chin up with her finger. “We will find her.”
“I wasn’t expecting it to be so big.”
“I know. It’s pretty impressive.”
Mel’s eyes gleam and I can see how much she craves to be a part of all this. It’s a feeling I can’t relate to. “Let’s grab some breakfast and discuss how best to set up the search.”
Malcolm catches up to both of us just as we’re leaving the food tent. I’d like to say it’s with a full belly, but the unappetizing bowl of sludge I’ve just eaten, a.k.a. porridge, has scarcely taken the edge off my hunger. “I’ve made a few inquiries,” he says, walking briskly beside me. “A woman fitting Isla’s description has been staying here. Apparently, the western side of the field is where most of the local rebels reside. Best to start your search there. I’ll be in the Command tent if you need me.” He slaps me on the back. “Good luck and be careful.�
�
Mel and I set off in a westerly direction, our feet dredging through mud and matted grass. Most of the pods are open, their occupants either missing or engaged in conversation or passive activity. We pass men smoking, cleaning their boots, and shaving over soapy bowls, craning to see properly in tiny portable mirrors. Though I’ve never held any desire to follow in my dad’s footsteps, there is something inviting about the obvious camaraderie and the buzz of adrenaline zipping through the air. Mel is in clear awe, beaming from ear to ear, her hair whipping around her face as she twists from left to right, trying to soak it all in.
“You’d love to be out here, wouldn’t you?” I ask.
“More than anything.” Her voice has a dreamlike quality to it. From our brief chats during our sojourn in Clementia, I know that Mel was training to be a soldier, but we never discussed why. I’m curious as to her motivation.
“Why did you decide to pursue a military career?” I glance sideways as we walk. She chews on the inside of her cheek, and her mood sobers. Perhaps it’s too personal, and I shouldn’t pry. “I don’t mean to be intrusive. We can talk about something else if you like.”
“No, it’s okay. I want to tell you.” She looks directly into my eyes. “It’s because of my mom.”
I curse silently at my inadvertent lack of sensitivity. “How old were you when she died?”
“Nine.” She thrusts her hands into her pants pocket and stares at her feet.
“I know what it’s like to grow up without a parent.”
“How old were you when your father died?” she asks, twisting slightly to look at me.
“Fourteen,” I admit. “Ari’s dad took me under his wing, and that helped. But as great as Commander Skyee is, he could never replace my dad. And I felt so helpless, unsure of how I could look after Mom. She was so cut-up. It killed me to see her like that.” Even talking about it now, over five years later, is still difficult.
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