Declaration (Forgotten Colony Book 5)

by M. R. Forbes

  The colonists were mixed in their responses to his appearance. Some cheered at the sight of him. Others were silent. A few booed. There were some other murmurs and comments about the chair and his legs. None of it surprised him.

  He rolled over to the microphone. Sheriff Zane got there first, pulling it from the stand and bringing it down to him. Jackson took it, holding it near his mouth. He remained silent, eyes sweeping across the group. He was ashamed to think he had nearly executed Private Flores to protect his lie. Keeping Metro secure had made him a hard man, but he had crossed an all important line of selfishness to bring him here now.

  His misguided choices had caused Beth’s condition and the death of dozens of good people.

  He had to make their sacrifices worthwhile. And he had to do it right now.

  “Citizens of Metro,” he said. He could feel his voice shaking in his throat. He coughed, trying to get it under control. “Citizens of Metro, I want to be blunt. I need to be blunt, because the enemy is moving as we speak, working toward goals that include returning to the Deliverance, to this city, and taking every fit man, woman and child for their own needs. Needs that aren’t in line with any of the beliefs or freedoms that we have enjoyed for as many years as any of us have been alive.”

  He hesitated again. He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead. His hands shook. He had to say it. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t.

  “A few generations ago, Metro suffered a civil war. None of you were alive to see it. You didn’t witness the atrocities we committed against one another—atrocities that cost us over twenty percent of our population. My great-grandfather was Governor at that time, and after restoring the peace he put in motion a series of declarations and decisions that have rippled through our history to this very moment. The first of those was to put an end to the process of electing the next Governor of the city, and instead installing a family line of succession to the job.”

  He paused there, waiting for the colonists to react. They had never known free elections. Neither had their fathers. They didn’t know what to make of the idea, and it didn’t seem to faze them.

  “That was only the first decision. Others followed. The formation of the militia, the increased presence of Law, changes in rules governing population controls. And then the alteration of the city datastores. Some information was deleted. Other information was altered. The systems were reset so that the truth would die and the colony would stay safe.”

  He paused again. The colonists were beginning to react, their murmurs growing, deep with rising anger.

  “And we were safe. For years we lived in peace. You could argue we were as prosperous as a closed ecosystem can be. We waited for the coming of people from outside to tell us it was safe to leave, to exit back into the open air we abandoned to the trife years earlier. Generations passed. Life went on. And then the Guardians came. And with them, the truth. But not the whole truth.”

  “What do you mean?” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “About a week ago, I stood in front of the entire population and told you all that we were deceived. That we were lied to, told we were on Earth when in truth we were on a starship hurtling through space on a collision course with a war we didn’t choose, on a planet that wasn’t our own. I told you Sergeant Caleb Card and his team had used us for a clandestine mission far from our homes, without our knowledge or permission. Some of that is true. Some of it isn’t.”

  Jackson froze. His mouth was suddenly dry, his heart beating like it would explode from his chest at any moment.

  “I need to be truthful with you because there isn’t much time. You’re all here because you understand the danger we’re in. You’re here because you’ve heard the ship and the city were attacked, and good people are dead. You’re here because you want to do something about it. I do too, but I can’t continue to be your Governor, I can’t help guide you through what comes next, without giving you the whole truth.”

  Jackson took one more breath. He hesitated, eyes sweeping across the colonists. He saw simmering anger, but he also saw hope and redemption.

  “My family has always known we were on a starship headed for a distant world,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. “So did your ancestors. My great-grandfather...he decided to change the narrative. He wanted you all to forget where we were. They fought a war over the truth. Ten thousand people died over it. So we buried it...hid it from you. We lied to you. We did it to keep you safe. When we landed, when the truth became clear, I changed the narrative again. I told you the Guardians were responsible. It was a lie.”

  He stopped to catch his breath. It felt good to come clean, though the subsequent reaction still terrified him.

  The murmurs stopped. The crowd fell silent. They didn’t yell at him. They didn’t rush the transport. They didn’t do anything. They stood there. Hurt, maybe. Confused, definitely. They remained in place, staring up at him. Waiting.

  “I brought Private Mariana Flores up in front of you and charged her with treason against the colony. It was a lie — a false accusation. If she hadn’t passed out, her blood would be on my hands. It may still be on my hands. I forced Sergeant Card and his Marines out. I gave them a reason to run. The only people on the ship with the training to help steer us through what we now know is coming, and I used them as a scapegoat to protect myself and my family. It was a mistake. A horrible mistake. You can see what it’s already cost me. My legs are paralyzed. Beth is in the hospital, traumatized. My daughter is dead. And it’s all on me.”

  He lowered his head, glancing back at the officers behind him. They were as silent as the crowd. Angry, confused, frightened...but resolute.

  “What do you want us to say?” someone in the crowd yelled “That we hate your guts, Governor? That we want you dead? I want my daughter to grow up. I want my son to come back. It’s as simple as that. You can’t turn back time. You can’t put us back on Earth or back in space. Like it or not, this is our home. ”

  The crowd began to part around the speaker. He was staring up at Jackson. The governor recognized him immediately. Kiaz Habib. Kiaan Habib’s father.

  “And if this is our home, if this is our present and our future, then it doesn’t matter what happened before. That won’t save our lives. That won’t help my children. I can only speak for myself when I say I appreciate your change of heart, Governor Stone. But I’d rather you shut up and started teaching us to fight.”

  The crowds around Kiaz began to cheer in approval, clapping and shouting.

  “Let us fight,” someone said. The words were picked up quickly, spreading like wildfire through the volunteers.

  “Let us fight! Let us fight!”

  The chant grew in volume and pitch, echoing in the enclosed space, vibrating off the walls. Jackson had tears in his eyes, letting them travel across as many faces as he could, seeing the strength in the people he had doubted. People he thought he knew but had completely underestimated. A wave of guilt and regret washed over him. He forced it away. He had sent Kiaz Habib’s son out with Sheriff Dante. The young man was most likely dead. But Kiaz was right. They didn’t have time for any of what had come before.

  Only what was coming.

  He put his hand up, trying to silence the crowd. It took almost another minute for the chants to begin to die down enough for him to speak.

  “As your Governor, I’m submitting a new declaration to the people of Metro. We...will...fight!”

  Chapter 14

  Caleb wasn’t completely certain of everything that happened after the Advocate abandoned him. The world went dark for a little while, but only for a little while. His memories were vague after that. In his mind, he saw dark tendrils hovering over him. He didn’t know if they were metal or organic. Maybe they were somehow both. They wriggled and squirmed above his head, reaching out from a slick looking carapace attached to a low, wet ceiling. He didn’t know what it did or what it was for.

  He blacked out again.

 
The second time, he had the vague memory of an arm. A human arm. The tendrils were wrapped around it, holding it over him. He could swear he had seen the end of the arm—the nerves and muscle and bone at the end. He remembered being nauseous at the sight. He had asked what it was and what it was for, but nobody answered.

  He remembered the pain. They stabbed him or cut him or something. He felt it more sharply than maybe he should have. An accident? He wasn’t sure. He gritted his teeth against it, but after a time it became too much.

  He blacked out a third time.

  The tendrils were gone the next time he woke. He was still lying down, stretched flat on a hard surface, completely naked. He tried to sit up, only to find his arms and legs restrained. His eyes traveled the room. Was it a room or a cell? What was the difference in this place? The walls were dark and wet, hewn from the stone that formed the Citadel. A soft glow pierced the stone in places near the top, and silver threads ran along the walls, pulsing with energy.

  He tested the restraints, pulling with both arms. He froze, suddenly confused. He laid his head to his right, following his bare shoulder to where the replacement arm control ring should have been.

  Instead of metal, he found only flesh. He followed it down, over fully-formed biceps, past the inside of his elbow, to his forearm, hand, and fingers. They were real. Flesh and blood. Fully-formed and fully operational. There was no sign of damage. No scarring. Even old injuries and blemishes were gone, wiped away by whatever the Relyeh had done to him.

  He lifted his head, looked down at his body, staring in amazement. All of his bumps, bruises, and scars new and old were gone. His skin was smooth, undamaged, as though he had never seen a single day of combat. As if he had never been clawed by a trife or shot by a terrorist.

  Sanctification. He hadn’t known what it meant.

  Now he understood.

  Arluthu had healed him. Fully. Completely. It wasn’t only a display of his technological abilities. It was a sample of what he could promise the warriors in his Might. If the Relyeh could so easily heal bodies to the point of replacing an amputated limb without even a light scar… how could anyone stand against them?

  He put his head back on the table, looking up at the ceiling. How much time had passed between Ishek’s removal and now? Days? Or hours?

  Sanctification. Valentine wanted to be sanctified. Cleansed of the mutation the Intellect had given her. The mutation she had invented herself and used to turn the rest of his team and hers into monsters. It was one of the stipulations she had requested, in exchange for giving up the Free Inahri base. But that request had been denied until Arluthu could get a look at her. Were they interested in her mutation? It didn’t surprise him if they were. The Relyeh loved to toy with genetics.

  Caleb closed his eyes, trying to take stock of his body. How did it feel? He wiggled his toes and fingers. He clenched and relaxed muscles, starting at his extremities and working his way in. There was no pain. No soreness. He felt good. Better than good. Whatever the Relyeh had done, they had removed twenty years of wear from his body. He wasn’t going to complain about that.

  He let his body relax. He wasn’t able to get up on his own. There was nothing to do but wait for someone to come for him. And then what? He was a prisoner of the Relyeh, trapped in the Citadel while the enemy prepared the Axon city-ship for war. The Deliverance wasn’t safe. Far from it. Washington and Dante had bought them some time, but that was all.

  Dante. His jaw clenched when he thought of her. Damn Ishek. Damn Harai. Damn Arluthu. And Washington was here with him, somewhere. He had to find a way to escape this place and get back to the colony. Except, what good would that do? This planet was a death trap, the focus of too many conflicting interests. He needed a plan to get the colony off this world and someplace safe.

  Was there anywhere in the universe that was safe?

  He laughed at himself. How the hell was he going to do so much? He was chained naked to a table in Arluthu’s fortress. He was at the mercy of the Relyeh. Even if he found a way to slip away from them, he would be wandering around an island maze in the middle of the ocean.

  He stopped himself from thinking along these lines. He already understood the challenges. He was a Space Force Marine. A Vulture. It was his job to overcome all challenges.

  At least he was in good health.

  He kept his eyes closed, focusing on his breathing. He would have to see how things developed and improvise from there. He didn’t know the enemy or the battlefield well enough to do anything else. Once he got out of the Citadel, he would go back to the Deliverance. He would gather as many colonists as he could, and they would storm the damn Seeker if that’s what it took. They would seize the ship, and then they would use it to get as far away from Essex, Arluthu, and the Axon as quickly as they could.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a plan.

  “Sergeant Caleb Card?”

  Caleb opened his eyes. He hadn’t heard footsteps. He hadn’t heard anything open. He tilted his head up again. An Inahri woman was standing at the foot of the table, in front of an open doorway. The stone had rotated away, hanging in the air as if attached to an invisible hinge.

  He stared at her. She reminded him of Sergeant Tsi. Thin, with big eyes and a narrow face. Her head was shaved to a dark stubble. She was wearing a simple brown robe cinched at the waist by a cord.

  “Who are you?” Caleb asked.

  “My name is Lia,” she replied. She was speaking Inahrai, but somehow he understood it. He turned his head to recheck his arms. “You understand me, not because of an Advocate, Caleb, but from Arluthu’s gift to ease your transition.”

  He had a feeling any gift of Arluthu’s wasn’t really a gift at all. “How?”

  “Your mind has been imprinted with knowledge of the Inahrai language, as well as the Relyeh language.”

  “Imprinted? Like uploading data to a computer?”

  “Yes. Something like that.”

  “Why isn’t Sergeant Harai imprinted?”

  “There was no need. He speaks both Inahrai and Relyeh natively, as do all of us in the Citadel.”

  “What else did you upload to my brain?”

  “If you haven’t already guessed, Lord Arluthu values purity of mind and body. Nothing else added. Nothing taken away. From your mind, I mean. Arluthu in his mercy has healed your body.”

  “I noticed.” He would have preferred to keep the replacement arm. It was going to be a lot harder to get out of the Citadel without its added strength. “So what now?”

  “I belong to Sergeant Harai, as do you. He sent me to prepare you.”

  “For what?”

  “A great honor, Sergeant Caleb Card. An audience with our infallible Lord.”

  Caleb nodded, remembering the planned meeting. “Great. I can’t wait.”

  Chapter 15

  Lia walked around the table, pressing her finger to each of Caleb’s restraints. They moved away, coming to life as wriggling dark tendrils before unwrapping from his limbs and vanishing back into the platform. Caleb watched them in surprised disgust until Lia had completed the circuit.

  “Get up,” she said.

  Caleb was already moving, swinging his legs over the side and standing on the wet stone floor, finding it warm. “Some clothes would be nice.”

  Lia seemed to ignore the statement. “This way.”

  She turned around, leading him away from the room. He walked out into a long, empty corridor lined with the same rough-hewn dark stone as the rest of the Citadel. He could hear water dripping somewhere nearby, along with wet slapping sounds and gurgling.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “This is the sanctorium,” she replied. “Where the wounded Inahri are brought for repair or repurposing.”

  “Repurposing?”

  “The repair process can only be repeated so many times before the genetic structures are too weak to support continued healing. When that happens, the Inahri are euthanized, their material broken
up and returned to a base form to be recycled for others. You entered the sanctorium missing most of your right arm.”

  “It was almost chewed off by a uluth queen,” Caleb said.

  “Now it is whole again, thanks to the repurposing.”

  Caleb glanced at his arm. He had a dead Inahri to thank for it?

  “How are these Inahri getting injured?” he asked. “As far as I know, the war between the Free Inahri and the Relyeh has been at a stalemate for some time.”

  “The Kuu,” Lia said.

  “Ae mentioned the Kuu. What is it?”

  “It isn’t my place to explain the Kuu. Sergeant Harai will show you.”

  “Understood. What is your place then?”

  “I told you, I belong to Harai, as you do.”

  “I know, but what does that mean to you? Are you a slave?”

  “We are all followers of Arluthu. We do what he requires of us. For me, that is to serve Harai however he demands it. I am a cleaner, a cook, a concubine. I am a receptacle for his love and his wrath. That is the life I was born into. That is my place in the world.”

  “And you like it?”

  “I honor my place.”

  “But do you like it?”

  She turned to look at him, nodding. “Yes.”

  It was hard for him to believe, but she was telling the truth.

  They continued down the corridor. The slapping and gurgling noise grew louder.

  “Where is that coming from?” Caleb asked.

  “Harai claimed another Earther for his stable,” Lia said.

  “Another Earther? Washington?” He listened to the sounds. “Where is he?”

  “I’m here to prepare you, Caleb. You will follow me.”

  Caleb stopped, listening. Then he pushed past Lia, tracking the sound. She trailed behind him until he came to a stop at a portion of the wall. Unlike the invisible hatches in the Seeker, he could see the lines of the doorway in it. The sounds were coming from the other side.