by T. C. Edge
If I knew it all, then it would all be excavated from my mind. If I knew of the many secret passages into the underlands in the north, then the inevitable attack would come from all angles. If I knew just what the grand plan was, beyond my role within it, then Cromwell would gather up all the cards for himself.
But I don’t know. I wasn’t told. And now I know just why.
It was the smart move, and yet I continued to question it. Adryan found himself in the same boat for the same reason, kept in the dark about so many things that could, should we fail, be used by the enemy.
In some ways, it gives me comfort that they had the forethought to behave as such. Perhaps they really will have a plan B brewing, and several others after that to be implemented in this very situation. I can only imagine that Lady Orlando made sure of such a thing.
I suppose I was never more than just a part of the plan, of the bigger picture. And while I’ve failed, I can only hope that it doesn’t mean the end for all. To put all of that on my narrow shoulders would have been foolhardy to say the least.
I dearly hope the Nameless are smarter than that.
I wonder too, as I sit there gazing outside at the city, about Mrs Carmichael and Tess, and Abby and Nate, and all the rest of the residents of the academy. I wonder how they’re coping right now as the city gets paralysed by fear and panic. I wonder how long their own clean water stores will last before they find themselves in a scrap for survival.
I have faith in my guardian to see them safe. To look after them all at this time of crisis and ensure that they’re well catered to. The markets, no doubt, will be running a busy trade as all remaining water stocks are snapped up. And after they run dry, the black market will be where the people will turn.
Mrs Carmichael knows the tricks of the trade. She knows how to get things that other people can’t. She has contacts and friends all over the city who she can call upon to help, to fulfil favours of the past that she’s long held over them.
And she’s smart too, and capable of making what money she has stretch far. For decades she’s learned to budget, to feed and water dozens of children and give them sanctuary.
Truly, there’s no one better qualified in this city to make sure that the orphans of Carmichael’s Academy are guided through this difficult time.
In any case, all her efforts might just be for nothing. Cromwell made it very clear how he looks upon the world. How he considers regular humans, the Unenhanced, to be the inferior species. How evolution has sped us to the point where he and his army of emotionless Savants can spread their bloodlines and prosper.
I wonder, in this new world of his, whether the rest of the Enhanced have their place too. Most likely, they’ll be used for their abilities, just as they have been for so many years, conditioned to work under the leadership of the Savants and never properly question their place.
And the Unenhanced will too, willingly giving themselves over for reconditioning to make sure they’re fully compliant. They’ll break their backs working for the ‘superior race’, and will be phased out of existence when their use has all dried up.
I know that Cromwell will never see the merits of the Outer Haveners, beyond their value as a workforce to aid in the redevelopment of our world. He’ll never consider how emotion can be a tool for good as well as evil, how the very nature of mankind is to toe that line and embrace both the good and the bad.
All he sees are the sins of the past, born from the weakness he considers emotion and feeling to be. And perhaps, in a way, he’s right. Right that all our problems stem from our nature, and that a more ordered world can be developed through its elimination.
But to eliminate emotion is to eliminate the essence of what it means to be human. It will be a cold world without joy or expression or art or culture. Nothing but a giant colony of drones performing their duties and functions.
To him, the meaning of life is merely to survive and thrive. To me, it’s to live, and love, and find happiness in experience and interaction and the development of bonds and relationships.
It’s something that the two sides will never agree on, the Nameless and the Consortium fighting for the future of this world, for its very soul.
And right now, it’s Cromwell who’s leading that charge. The momentum has swung in his favour.
In my moments of clarity, I feel so empty with such thoughts. Knowing that I won’t be able to continue the fight, battle for what I believe in, save those I love.
I’ll never be able to share a joke with Tess again, or share a whiskey with Mrs Carmichael. I’ll never be able to spend more time with my brother, learn more about my twin. I’ll never be able to wrap my arms around Drum’s giant trunk, and giggle at his clumsiness.
I’ll never be able to kiss Adryan again, and feel that swell of bliss and longing in my heart.
I can’t help but think of what I’ll miss out on. And I can’t help but cry as the memories come, weakening me in my solitude. The tears slip from my eyes and down my cheeks as I gaze through the growing blur upon the city. The salty brine gathers in the corners of my downturned mouth, pooling and falling further until they drip down onto the laminated surface of the picture of my parents.
And as they drip and splash, a fresh assault of pain swamps me as I remember what Tess did. As I recall how she got the picture restored for me, and gave it to me as a gift when I left the academy little more than a week ago.
The pain is excruciating, and I wish I had my powers so that I could set a veil over my memories, hide them somewhere deeper in my consciousness so they weren’t so raw.
But I can’t. Not here. Here I can only think of the joy in my life, joy that now turns to ash in my mouth as I realise that I’ll never taste it again.
And sitting there in such agony, I consider again Cromwell’s assertions about emotion, and wish for a moment that I was as cold as him. That I could just sit here and await my fate without this pain and heartache.
And therein lies the foundation of their plot. They understand emotion all too well, even though they can’t feel it. They know that the people across Outer Haven will be feeling just as I am here. They know that they’ll do anything to have their pain eased, their fear eliminated, their terrible memories of loss muted.
People will flock to them in their tens of thousands, and come out the other side as little more than slaves to their rule. Slaves who will refuse to lift a finger in their own defence. Slaves who will, when the time comes, do whatever they’re ordered to do without any manner of question or disagreement.
It’s something that, right now, I understand. If someone could flick a switch, and take this pain away, I might just let it happen.
And that exact thought, that emotion, is exactly what will cause our downfall.
The thought causes a change. I grit my teeth once more, and squeeze the final tears from my eyes, sniffing my last.
I refuse to show such weakness here.
And just as I do, I hear more tapping beyond the door. And then, once again, it opens up, and a new form appears on the threshold. The man who will extract the information from my head. A man I know well.
The new Commander of the City Guard stands before me with a smile.
“Good morning, Brie,” says Commander Burns. “We do meet in the strangest of places…”
114
I snap myself straight out of my stupor as Burns steps into the room and shuts the door, dressed now in pure white to signify his new position.
On his chest, I see the badge of Haven, the three circles to denote the three major ranks of people in this city. Before, when he was merely Deputy, the innermost circle was coloured white to show him as a Savant, a member of the Court.
Now, within the inner circle, a little ‘C’ is written, telling of his membership of the Consortium. Telling of his social upgrade.
I sniff as he enters, sucking away my grief. If my wrists were free, I’d wipe my cheeks clean of the glistening tears that soak them. As it is, I’
ll just have to let them air dry.
Burns is quick to notice. That smile of his - a decent impression of a real expression, but still clearly false - fades. A little frown takes its place.
“Oh dear, Brie. You look upset.”
I glare at him, blinking away the final tears.
“I should have known it would be you,” I growl.
He wanders in, reaching for his pocket, and pulls out a handkerchief. He immediately sets it to my face, wiping away the brine. I lean back and recoil, turning my head from him.
“Leave me alone,” I snap.
His hand withdraws. He takes a step back to get a better look at me.
“You should be thankful it’s me,” he says coolly. “Were it not for your quick thinking a couple of days ago, it might have been Romelia Woolf instead. I’m sure you’ll find me more agreeable.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t care who does it. The result will be the same.”
“Perhaps,” he says quietly. “Perhaps not…”
He drifts to the clear wall to my right, and looks out upon the city. His eyes seem to stick to the northern quarter, working their way deeper towards the far boundary walls before returning to me as he swivels around on his heels.
He steps towards me and looks intently into my eyes.
“A Hawk, a Dasher, a Mind-Manipulator,” he says. “You are truly gifted, Brie.”
Then his eyes drop to my lap and loop upon my parents’ picture, several small teardrops still gathered on its laminated surface.
He reaches down.
“Do you mind?” he asks me.
I shake my head, and he lifts the picture up and looks upon it closely, before gently placing it back on my lap.
The way he does so makes me wonder what he knows. He is, after all, the new Commander of the City Guard, and has been Deputy for many years. Perhaps he knows my father.
So I ask, with no hope or expectation.
“Do you know who they are?” I question tiredly.
His eyes turn back to mine.
“I recognise your father,” he says. “Maxwell.”
My heart flutters briefly, but it doesn’t last. Why does it really matter now?
My curiosity, however, even at this late hour, cannot be sated.
“What else do you know about him?”
“I don’t know much, Brie,” he murmurs. “He was a Hawk. He was a little younger than me, one of many young men under my command. I wasn’t Deputy back then, of course. I was a more junior commander.”
“And do you know about my mother?” I query.
“I’m afraid I don’t recognise her. It is regretful what happened to them…or what must have happened. I can only assume that your birth was discovered. Consequently, your parents will have been executed for their…crimes.”
“Crimes,” I whisper, my hazel eyes turning a shade or two darker. “Do you really believe that falling in love is a crime, Commander?”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
“It is disallowed under our doctrine. Your parents will have known that, and broke the rules anyway. I’m afraid that they knew what was coming, Brie. And that is precisely why they hid you both.”
“Us both,” I whisper. “You know of Zander?”
“Only what I’ve been told,” he tells me. “You have a twin…”
He cuts himself off, and I wish that I could sneak inside his mind and see what he’s thinking. There’s something in his eyes, some deception, some trickery that he cannot hide. Not him, a Mind-Manipulator who, clearly, has some degree of emotion within him.
I’ve spent enough time around these people now to know who does and who doesn’t. And Leyton Burns can’t hide it all from me.
“Anyway, I have work to do, Brie. You know the drill by now. Open your eyes and relax. This won’t take long.”
I take a breath at the thought. Mental intrusions are uncomfortable enough, but my resignation is based on more than that. Because as soon as Burns discovers the secret way into the underlands inside my head, I can be damn sure that a sizeable squad of Stalkers will be sent straight on down it.
Please, Zander…get the people to safety.
As Burns sets himself up to enter my mind, I ask one final question.
“Adryan. What will happen to Adryan?” I ask.
“Oh, your husband, yes. I’ve spent some time with him already…”
“And is he OK? Cromwell wouldn’t tell me…not properly.”
“He is. For now.”
For now…
“He doesn’t need to be here,” I say. “You don’t need him. Please…just let him go.”
“I’m afraid that’s not my decision to make, Brie.”
“Then…tell Cromwell I want to see him again. Tell him…tell him that I’ll give Woolf back. Tell him I’ll negotiate a trade.”
Burns offers a weak smile at my desperation, my words rushing around the small room, my eyes flaming and nostrils flaring.
“You care about him, don’t you?” he asks.
I nod, and feel the threat of tears rising once more. I won’t let them gather. I have to be strong.
“OK,” he whispers. “I’ll speak with Director Cromwell. Now relax, Brie, and look at me. If you cooperate, I’m sure the Director will be more likely to work with you.”
It’s all I need to hear. In the end, my mind is going to be inspected anyway. If I can somehow get Adryan to safety first, then I’ll consider that a decent trade.
And so, opening up my eyes nice and wide, I let my body relax and await Burns’ assault. And into the blackness I fall as he takes possession of my mind, and begins carefully searching my thoughts.
I don’t know exactly how much time passes before he leaves the room. All I know is that the light outside has changed, the sun climbing higher in the sky, and gentle formations of clouds have begun appearing on the far horizon.
It happens in a snap, all so fast.
I get only cracked and blurred images as Burns looks through everything I’ve experienced over the last few weeks, learning all he can about my exploits, Zander, the Nameless, and the plot that I seem to know so little about.
I see him discover the secret tunnel in the north as well. The cluttered room at the back of a derelict building. The switch on the right hand wall, behind a stack of chairs. The little door that it opens on the other side, hidden by the moth-eaten sofa.
He knows, now, how to enter the underlands. Within minutes, the information will be passed to Cromwell, and together they’ll send out the Stalkers that now fall directly under Burns’ command.
Perhaps they’re already there, gathered in their terrible force, ready and waiting for the kill order to be given. Perhaps in only half an hour or so, they’ll be storming through the underground city, pouring into the secret caves and caverns and striking down all those they find.
Sophie and Rycard and their little boy, Maddox. Drum, sitting in his assigned space, still yearning to become a soldier. Zander might even be there, and he’s the only one that I hope is. The only one capable of repelling the threat, he and his own force of hybrids combating the modified freaks sent in to kill them.
Perhaps that will all go down over the course of the next few hours. Perhaps the threat of the Nameless will soon be expunged, the last hurdle for the Consortium toppled and tossed to one side.
Or, maybe, just maybe, Zander and Lady Orlando, and all the others sitting at the top table of the rebels, will have seen this coming. Maybe, when the Stalkers flood the underlands, all they’ll find will be empty caverns, only the remnants of life for them to pick over.
Either way, I may never get to find out.
The session with Burns seems to end as soon as it begins. He leaves me having dredged up all those recent memories of mine, bringing those of pain and fear, as well as joy and longing, to the surface. They play out like a highlights reel of my life, before fading away and leaving me alone, once more, in that cold and quiet room.
I assume he has what he needs, that perhaps my part is now over. But when he moves to the door, he does so with an assurance that he’ll be back.
“I’ll see you again, Brie. Very soon.”
“Remember Adryan,” I call out. “Please…talk to Cromwell.”
He nods, and then disappears through the door.
Leaving me with nothing to do but wait.
115
In the end, I don’t have to wait too long. It would appear that, as busy a man as Artemis Cromwell is, his magnificent mind is currently preoccupied with my presence here in the High Tower.
And, by the looks of things, my offer to negotiate and return Agent Woolf appears to be an attractive one.
Burns, thankfully, is true to his word. Immediately after seeing me, it would appear, he goes straight to his master to update him, which isn’t overly surprising really.
Top of the agenda, of course, will be the secret passage into the underlands, and any other relevant information that he’s extracted from my mind. After that, he’ll move onto the topic of Adryan, one that leads Cromwell back to my cell within a couple of short hours.
As I look out of the window towards the city streets so far below – the only distraction I have here – the sound of footsteps has me turning back to the door just as it begins to open. And through it, Cromwell comes, with Burns right beside him, both dressed in their white suits, Cromwell’s just a shade brighter.
The Director is quick to talk.
“I hear you’re interested in getting your new husband to safety,” he says. I nod hurriedly. “And in exchange, you’ll ensure that your brother hands Romelia back to us?”
I continue to nod.
“Tell me, Brie, why I would strike such a bargain? Your husband is a traitor, and that cannot be tolerated. He is to be punished in accordance with his crimes. It won’t give you much solace to know that the crime of treason carries with it our strictest of sentences.”