Legion Reborn

by K. C. Finn

“To join forces. You’re receiving this message from the Bullet Girl of the Underground.”

  Another beep, another pause. And then, to my surprise, the voice gets louder and brighter on the line.

  “Wow, it’s really you. It’s Hiro speaking, kiddo. I saved your brother’s life that time. You remember me, right?”

  Twenty

  When I was twelve years old, my father went up to the surface to scavenge, and went missing for four and a half years. Because he was gone, my eldest brother Bhadrak took his place in the scavenging team. On his first journey up, a girl named Hiro tracked him and, when we lost his signal, she took me up to the edge of the surface to help him return. Hiro never came back with my brother, but went out into the world that she wanted to see. She had family who had perished, and terrible scars on her face from the fire that killed them. In all the people of the Underground who I’ve lost over the years, I hadn’t spared a lot of thought for what happened to that tech-savvy young woman who saved my brother’s life.

  Now, she operates for TOH, and they are indeed the rebel group that Nema promised us. No-one else can hear the feed in my headphones, as Hiro remembers herself to me and tells me of her time working what she calls ‘the switchboard’ for the former members of Prudell’s utopia project. Apryl keeps making expectant faces, offering me a tentative thumbs up, which I return. In truth, I can’t get a word in with Hiro’s rambling to explain to Apryl what’s going on.

  “Anyway, that’s quite enough about me. How are you? How’s Bhadrak and the fam?”

  “Torn apart,” I reply. “You know how it is.” I don’t have the time or the emotions to spare for details. “But we’re moving forward. Moving into the System, and I want to know if you guys are willing to help us.”

  “What’s the plan?” Hiro asks. Like me, she doesn’t seem keen on waiting for mass approval.

  I pause a moment. “How secure is your line?”

  “Three years on this frequency with no interception,” she replies. “I need something to put to the Eatons. They’re the head honchos around here. They won’t hear me without a plan, kiddo.”

  “Technical overhaul,” I tell her. “All software and machinery under our control.”

  She scoffs on the line. “We’ve been trying to infiltrate that for years. You can really do it?”

  “We have the key to the System’s Heart,” I say with a smile. “And we’re unlocking it soon. If you want to make a real change to the nation, tell the Eatons this is their only chance for involvement. We’ll handle the messy stuff, if they can’t hack it.”

  Hiro whistles, causing static in my ears. “Sheila told you plenty about them, huh? They’re strict, I grant you. But driven as hell. I wouldn’t be without them.”

  “I’ll get back to you once our plan is set, so be sure to convince them quickly.”

  “I’ll do it,” Hiro answers, and I hear another beep.

  “One last thing,” I say, a lump in my throat. Hiro waits for me, the line humming. “Do you have Malcolm with you?”

  Silence falls. I look around the room at my friends. And, though they can’t hear anything that Hiro’s told me so far, I know they’re watching my face for the answer to this one. I’ll give it away in a heartbeat, if the Eatons have turned him from the door and left him to die. The silence seems to go on for ages, so much so that I look at Nema’s screen to see if we’re even still connected.

  Then, there’s a scuffle like someone shifting in their seat. Hiro huffs a little breath, then chuckles.

  “Sorry about that. It’s Raja now, right?”

  My whole body wants to scream at her, but I keep a lid on it all. “It is.”

  “Malcolm says he’ll see you at the front lines, kiddo. And did you bring the pistol, by the way?”

  *

  “It could only have been better if you’d heard his voice yourself!”

  Andrew is so excited that he kisses the top of my head. It turns out he’s the one who recovered Malcolm’s prized pistol from the wreckage of the hole in the Legion’s wall. He hands it to me proudly at our gathering, and a score of Highland rebels raise up a huge cheer to see me wield the silver-tipped gun. It still has its single bullet in the chamber, the one Malcolm has been saving all these years. For Prudell. It must be. He wanted me to shoot it into her skull once, when Stirling took the bullet away. But now I hold the loaded gun up high, my grin a mile wide.

  We are crowded in the deep bay of the painting section, where my small team first entered the facility. It is Sunday afternoon and this is strictly a rebels-only function. The Legion kids are somewhere above us, with no idea how lifted our spirits are about to be. The Highlanders give a cheer, and my family are there amid the front row with beaming grins too. I am on the viewing balcony above the rest, to give them the best view of the pistol that we will return to our revived leader. Our hero will meet us at the heart of everything, there to see our good deeds finally put an end to Prudell’s murderous reign.

  “Brothers and sisters of the rebellion!” Stirling calls out, cupping his hands so that everyone will hear him. “Heed your orders and heed them well. Monday, this time tomorrow, we bring The Evil One to justice and reclaim our nation for those who seek freedom!”

  A cheer rages from the deafening crowd below. I place the pistol carefully in one of the holsters in my kit vest, stepping up beside Stirling on the balcony. Behind us, Andrew, Mia, Goddie, Kip, Apryl and Sheila are also present, and I urge them to step forward too. We look down on the crowd, the smiling faces and the noisy banter between comrades. From the initial victory, and now this news, morale is well and truly restored.

  Something hits me deep in the gut, a heavy slicing sensation like a blade has slipped through my protective gear. I even look down, clutching my middle by a strange sudden urge, but there’s nothing to account for the wound inside. I look into the crowd again, the faces blurring with their bared teeth and bright eyes, and I reach for the pistol to be sure it’s there. All this news, all this good in the world. The One at the Heart has spoken, the TOH are falling into line. Malcolm Stryker is alive and well.

  After everything, this much good at once doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’m missing something deep at the core of the puzzle. I have to wonder if this is how Malcolm felt on the eve of Valkyrie, when we sent our forces to their doom amongst the victims pulled from their Underground homes. Did he know? Did he suspect this dark cloud of trouble and push on anyway? Did he have any choice but to do it?

  I have no choice now, the only one frozen in a fracas of joy. My crew are descending the ladder to join their teammates, whooping and hollering along with the rest. I drag along behind them, the last to lower myself on the ladder, and when they smile and ask me if it’s really true, I have to nod and smile. It is true. We have confirmation. But are we really this lucky?

  I find Sheila’s eyes in the crowd. She’s only a few steps ahead of me, watching me as I seek her out. She cranes her head, nudging off to her right, and I follow her until we’ve left the rest of the crowd behind. Against the wall of the balcony we’ve just vacated, Sheila leans down close to my ear to be heard.

  “How much are you going to tell the TOH about Monday’s operation?” she asks.

  “Nothing about the trains,” I answer. “They know where we’re going, but they don’t need to know how we’re getting there. I just want to borrow their all-consuming frequency for long enough to get our diversion going, and prevent the enemy from communicating amongst themselves.”

  Sheila sucks her lips in, folding her arms. She nods, but it’s not agreement. It hasn’t been for a while between us, not since she saw what had happened to her baby boy’s legs and their tattooed secrets.

  “I want Malcolm back with us,” I say.

  “I know you do,” Sheila replies. Too fast. Too sharp. “I think the whole crew wants him back more than they want to win this fight. Like he’s some magical god that’s going to wander into Tania, having been half crushed, and save the day for
you all.”

  That stabbing feeling hits again, harder this time. Our plan of attack on Monday doesn’t have to involve Malcolm, but it works so much better if it does. There’s nothing like a high profile freedom fighter to throw the enemy off guard, especially if he’s back and baying for blood.

  “He wants his pistol.” I can’t look at Sheila when I speak. “That must mean he’s ready for a fight. Maybe the TOH repaired him.”

  “They might have a few Reavers on hand, but I doubt that the TOH has anything like the Reborn technology.” When I do manage to look up, Sheila is the one with her eyes trained on the floor. “I tried to treat those wounds, Raja. I felt his body. Every breath, every movement. They were fatal.”

  The slice digs deeper, and I shake my head. “You can’t breathe a word, Sheila. Whatever state we find Malcolm in at Tania, we save the shock for then. This crew needs a win right now.”

  She sighs, though it’s only a small one. “I always worried about Stirling growing up to be like Malcolm. You know, since his poor father was killed too soon to make a lasting impression. But I guess I don’t have to worry any more. You stopped my son dead in his tracks, and turned into Malcolm yourself.”

  My head rattles, brows crashing down hard.

  “Then what’s your fucking problem?”

  Sheila throws a hand to her hip, eyes widening. “I beg your-”

  “I mean, really.” My voice is loud enough that nearby rebels are starting to grow silent, their eyes cast sideways at us. “You either complain that he’s a fit and healthy militant nutter like Malcolm, or you complain that he’s a crippled kid who’ll never be on the frontlines again. What do you want from me, Sheila? I didn’t cut his legs off! Those bastards in the System did. The ones you’ve worked for, all these years.”

  Silence falls. There’s definitely a group of rebels watching the altercation, their half-whispered comments catching my ears. Words like ‘boyfriend’ and ‘mother-in-law’. They think this is some kind of domestic. And none of them know, not even Sheila, that it’s really a matter of life and death. Stirling’s life and death. My fingers dig so hard into my hands that I feel the skin poised to break open. Did she guess the cause of Stirling’s split palm only twelve hours ago, or did she just want to blame me anyway?

  “I don’t have to stand here talking to a haughty child,” Sheila says, her arms unfolding.

  “No,” I reply, my body seething with heat. “You just have to obey orders from one.”

  *

  It is early on Monday morning before I actually get any sleep. When I wake, it’s because another body is sidling up to me, one muscular arm sliding around my middle and gently lifting my upper half up. He puts my head on his chest, then I feel his chin resting against it. I breathe in, the scent of spice and warmth coming off him in waves.

  “Goddie?”

  “Ya?”

  “What do you think of the plan?”

  He shifts, his breathing a steady rise and fall. “It’s ya plan. I follow my leader.”

  “Yeah, but if you weren’t… you know. If it was your decision. Your plan. Would it be a good one?”

  I feel his hand ruffling my short hair, then it wanders gently down my spine. His touch cools the sticky heat of the small, dark office room. In a matter of hours, the trains in need of repair will come to us. We have a limited time before the System starts to wonder where they’ve gone. It’s all about to blow up again, this mad life we live because we refuse to follow Prudell’s governance. Or, because we allow ourselves to follow Malcolm’s governance. And mine.

  “I wouldn’t be able to make de calls dat you do, Raja. It’s not my place.”

  I shut my eyes, buried against Goddie’s t-shirt. “Fine. Don’t answer.”

  He shifts again, holding me up. I have to open my eyes when Goddie kisses me, a firm kiss deeply planted and willing to linger. I let him stay, his tongue snaking between my lips to beg for more. A feeling washes over me that I haven’t had for weeks, maybe even months. It’s like a wild heat spreading into every nerve, asking for the rest of the world to fall away and leave me with just this. When we kiss, it feels like the world might just do that. And when I finally break for breath and look deep into Goddie’s dark eyes, I see the hunger brimming over in him too.

  I pull him down, onto the floor and onto me, and even the weight of his titanium leg doesn’t deter me from wanting him as close as possible. Goddie puts his leg between the two of mine, the heat of the moment driving me mad. Thoughts of later on today drift off with every frantic kiss and every quickening heartbeat. All there is in the world is Goddie and me, the feel of our bodies and the grinding of our hips.

  “We should-” I begin with a gasp.

  Goddie leans back, looking down at me with wide eyes.

  “Stop?”

  He falters, his perfect lips quivering into a frown. I hold his face in my hands, and for one horrible moment I find myself thinking of Stirling. And not in a way where I want him more than Goddie, but in a way that reminds me that this boy, right here, is here to stay. No shelf life. No argument. Nothing off limits.

  I kiss Goddie hard. Deeper and with more desperation than I’ve ever felt in my life.

  “No. We should go.” I pant out the words, unable to stop my hands from wandering down to the hem of his shirt. “We should go whilst we still can.”

  Twenty-One

  It’s strange to look at Goddie as we lie in wait in the platform section for the train to come in. He keeps smiling back at me, like he’s never ever going to stop smiling again, and every time he does I feel a strange rush in my body. It’s not like the heat of a few hours ago, but more of a cold, nervy feeling, like I lost something when he and I lost ourselves. I guess I did. But if I die today in the assault on Prudell’s capital, I’m going out a very different girl to the Raja of yesterday.

  The anger of the last few weeks has dissipated, too. My frustration has been replaced with a cool numbness to the situation, and even Malcolm’s pistol feels lighter against my heart. Today we charge, literally at full speed, into the heart and soul of Prudell’s operation, with a mind to hold her capital to ransom in the hands of her own Reborn soldiers. If we can give the One at the Heart the power to hold control over all the Reborns she has created, our firepower will outweigh any soldiers Prudell could possibly throw.

  Goddie and I are part of a series of pairs hidden around the platform. He and I are hiding beneath a crate of cleaning supplies, presumably ones that the operator of the train themselves would use to vac out their personal driving space. It’s positioned where the head of the train will come in, and I find myself quivering at the prospect of seeing one of these beasts up close. Andrew insists that driving them is easy, and he has instructed me very clearly on how it’s all going to work. But if I don’t pick up the skills within a matter of hours, the whole plan will go up in smoke.

  Goddie reaches from behind me, taking my hand and giving my palm a squeeze.

  “I got ya.” His voice is low and steady. “It’s a good plan. I should have said so.”

  It’s a little late to stop my heart shaking, but a rumbling noise ends any chance I might have had to reply. The train is coming in, and the world is about to change around us again. Mercifully, the carriages are empty apart from the driver’s cab, and only the lone figure of a dark woman with a thick afro passes us by as the great white snake parks up. Her bright eyes are wide, and I hope it’s not apprehension at the sight of the empty platform. We have no idea of the current protocol, whether someone should be here to greet her or not, so all we can do is wait.

  When the young woman gets out of the cab’s upward-sliding door, I feel Goddie breathing hard behind me. He whispers a curse, but I have no idea why, and the shapes at the far end of the platform are already moving. Goddie squeezes hard, like he’s trying to keep my hand in his, but I break off with a twist. I have to act before the girl spots the others, and has a chance to leap back into her cab.

  I rush a
round the supplies and race for her back, keeping low until I’m inches away. Leaping up, I hook an arm around her neck and bring the girl down hard. She screams out, but of course there’s no-one to help her, and seconds later we find ourselves surrounded by my crew and their guns. One of them is Andrew, who reaches into the pockets of the driver’s uniform until he finds her key-card. As he disappears off into the cab of the train, I twist the girl until her hands are behind her back. Another rebel bonds them with some of our thickest rope, then I let her head go as she spins around.

  Her wide eyes stare us all out, mouth open in horror. Then she stops, quite suddenly. She is facing Goddie, and they stare at one another for a long moment.

  “Hi Yolanda,” Goddie says. “What’s up?”

  I look between them. The girl is maybe five years older than us, pretty young to be driving but looking smart and assured in her uniform. When she picks her jaw up from the floor, Yolanda stiffens her neck and puffs out her chest.

  “Ya mother would be horrified if she saw ya like dis, Godwin Cole.”

  She knows him. Knows his name, which must mean that Goddie never actually changed it when he first joined the Legion. He kept his moniker and his one link to his family in the Westlands. Behind us there’s a whooshing sound, and the monorail slowly begins to move under Andrew’s command. It screeches a bit, but the bearded beast gives a thumbs up from the cab. I return it, and then he slowly swerves the train away, onto one of the side tracks that will take it into one of the three maintenance areas. Yolanda watches him too.

  “Where’s dat terrorist going with me train?”

  Goddie steps up with that awkward little twitch in his neck.

  “He’s no terrorist, and neither am I,” he says. “Come on Yo. Maybe ya got into a nice job with de Department of Transport, good for ya. But ya know dat’s not de case for most of us. Ya know where we came from, and de people still struggling der.”

  “She’s from your old home?” I ask.