An Outcast and an Ally

by Caitlin Lochner

  “Yeah, well. I want you back. So does everyone else. If it helps get your ass in gear, I’ll admit to it.”

  She laughs. But it’s not out of agreement.

  “C’mon, Lai. We all make mistakes. No one’s going to hold it against you.”

  “I know,” she says quietly. “It’s just—what if I fail again? What if I can only lead the Order to failure? If everything falls apart because of me, I don’t know what I’d be living for anymore.”

  “Even if you fail again, you have plenty to live for. We’re all here for you, you know. You don’t have to take on everything by yourself. Me, Jay, Al—all your Order friends. You don’t have to do this alone.” I laugh. “No one here would let you do it alone.”

  Finally, Lai’s smile is genuine. It’s still not really her usual self, but it’s the closest I’ve seen in a while. “Thanks, Erik. I appreciate it.”

  “You know I’ve got your back, Lai.”

  I’m about to try getting her to come to the leaders’ meeting that’s happening a few twisty, turning halls away—I sure as hell don’t want to go since I hardly belong here and barely know anyone, but it’d be good for Lai—but before I can say anything, the screen in the corner of the room flickers on. Lai and I share a frown.

  “Does it usually do that?” I ask.

  “Never.”

  There’s not a whole lot of time to work it out, because then Ellis’s face is on the screen, and she’s smiling that too-familiar sharp smile that makes my skin crawl. “Good afternoon, Sector Eight. My name is Sara Ellis, leader of the rebels, and I have a message for you.”

  29

  LAI

  MY STOMACH LURCHES at the sight of Ellis. Everything around her is dark, but she and the desk she sits at are in clear view. If she sustained any injuries in that last battle, there’s no sign of them now. She took so much from me and I couldn’t even give her a wound serious enough to last a week. Have I always been this weak? She looks tired, though. Much more so than I remember her looking during our fight.

  “What’s going on?” Erik asks.

  I can’t take my eyes from the screen. “I don’t know. Ellis has probably hijacked the broadcasting network—likely every monitor in the sector, if even we’re getting this.” If Ellis could hack even us …

  “I do apologize for forcing your attention like this,” Ellis continues. Her eyes glint like a Feral’s about to pounce. “But I think everyone will find what I have to say very … enlightening.”

  This can’t be good. Is there a way to shut down the broadcast? If I could get Rowan—no. I can’t give anyone orders anymore. I only ruin everything.

  “I’m here today to talk to you about Nytes and Sector Eight’s precious High Council.” Ellis’s voice is so sickly sweet it makes me want to throw up. “Mainly, how the gifted were created from the Council’s experiments to make the perfect super-soldiers.”

  Wait. What? Erik and I exchange a glance, but even without reading his thoughts, I know he doesn’t have any clue what she’s talking about, either.

  “I’m sure you heard about our attack inside the sector a few months back. It was to put an end to the Councilors’ experiments and get the proof we needed of their guilt.” Ellis’s face is replaced by some kind of security camera footage. For some reason, my first thought is that it’s surprisingly high quality. The video shows a large warehouse interior-turned-lab with a handful of people in very distinct black starlight robes talking to one another—and in the bottom right corner of the video, there’s a date from almost twenty years ago, right next to the seal of the High Council.

  The conversation of the Councilors is clear. “Sample pool? Can’t we just get some orphans and homeless off the street?” At the sound of his voice, my fist tightens. I recognize it from when I eavesdropped on two Councilors back in Central months ago. I never actually saw the Councilor’s face, but I’d recognize that nasal, self-important voice anywhere. Does this have to do with that conversation back then—the experiment and prototype they talked about?

  “Tests indicate the results would be exponentially better if we could inject the serum while the child is still developing in the womb,” another Councilor says—the second Councilor I heard that day. Just like back then, her silky smooth voice gives me chills. Something instinctively saying not to trust her. “We’ll need pregnant mothers in order to get the best super-soldiers.”

  The third Councilor, who I don’t know, sighs impatiently. “Just have some of our doctors enter the hospitals and slip it in like it’s normal medication. Best to try it on people in other sectors as well to prevent too much focus on Sector Eight alone. We can’t let the other sectors know about this. Everyone waged war on Sector Five just for suspecting they were breaking the treaty by developing guns. We’ll just need to keep careful records of all test subjects who receive the serum.”

  “Understood,” the one doctor-looking person with the three Councilors says. “But, sir, are you sure about this? These are innocent mothers and unborn children—”

  “Who are supporting Sector Eight and assisting in the advancement of protective measures against other sectors. Their contributions will be remembered.”

  I can’t breathe. This can’t be real. It just can’t be. The Council is terrible, but there’s no way they would stoop to human experimentation. There’s no way they could’ve kept it secret for so long—no way they could’ve gotten enough people to agree to work on something like this. No. It’s impossible.

  But it’s also impossible to not remember those two Councilors’ conversation I overhead all those months ago about getting the “demons” under their control.

  The video cuts abruptly and shifts to another. The place is the same, but the date in the corner has skipped ahead about four years.

  There’s chaos in the room as people scramble, checking computers and doing tests. The Councilors are back, storming down the aisle nearest the camera.

  “What do you mean several of the test subjects have died?” Nasal demands of a different doctor-looking person than the one from the last recording.

  “Sir, many of the subjects’ bodies couldn’t handle the strain of the serum’s effects as their bodies continued to grow—dozens, maybe hundreds have died already.”

  “And the rest?”

  “No obvious signs of change yet.”

  “Keep an eye on them,” Don’t-Trust says. “Have our doctors announce that some new kind of degenerative disease that only afflicts children has appeared. We cannot let them know about the experiments.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  My stomach drops to the bottom of my feet. The epidemic from sixteen years ago—the “disease” that even now still affects kids. The one everyone thought caused Nytes. The reason everyone called Nytes demons. It was all because the Councilors’ experiments failed.

  Too many thoughts run through my head for me to keep up with any of them. Is this a joke? Just another trick by the rebels? But that Council seal—it’s authentic. That was definitely the warehouse we broke into months ago to investigate. And those were definitely the Councilors I eavesdropped on before. The same Councilors who’re ruling the sector now. That kind of video couldn’t have been faked so easily—could it?

  What if it’s real? What if the reason the gifted are like this—the reason I’m like this—is just because the High Council wanted stronger soldiers? My mom’s life was ruined because of me. I ran away from her so I would stop bringing her heartache. I joined the military because I had nowhere else to go. For most of my life, I’ve done nothing but fight and scheme and learn how to get better at both those things. I’ve manipulated countless people to the point I don’t even feel bad about it anymore. I’ve watched my friends die. All because I was gifted. All because of the Council.

  Ellis returns to the screen. Her hands are folded in front of her on the desk, the shadows over her face darker than before. “We destroyed all the serums located in the warehouse. The latest ‘prototype’ was
designed to make Nytes obedient to whatever orders they were given.” Her mouth twists into a snarl. I have to hold back my own revulsion. “I’ve released the footage we stole from the warehouse to the sector’s network. You’ll also find the list of names of every test subject”—she says this with such scorn it almost cuts—“that was experimented on. You’re free to access these and analyze them however much you like, but I can assure you this: They’re real. Nytes are merely the results of the High Council’s whimsical experiments to strengthen the military.” She smiles grimly, like she knows a lot more that she’s not saying. It feels like my thoughts go blank as I suddenly realize what she’s doing. “That is all. I hope you have a pleasant day.”

  The screen flickers and goes dark.

  “That can’t be true,” Erik says. His voice is weak. “This is just one of Ellis’s plots—right?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “How do we prove it’s not real?”

  “I don’t know if we can—the videos might be real. That might all be true.”

  “Wait—what? You just said—”

  “It’s a trap.” Seconds ago, it’s like my thoughts were wiped clean away by shock. Now, they’re running one another over so fast I can barely keep up. “The broadcast is just a distraction. Trist and the others—where are they?”

  Okay, a little explanation would be nice right about now. “They should still be in a meeting with all the other leadership.”

  “I’ll explain once we’ve got everyone together. We don’t have time to waste.” I swing my legs over the bed, but before my feet hit the floor, I hesitate. Am I really going to do this? What if I’m wrong? Even if I managed to get everyone to believe me, what if I’m just making another mistake?

  But what if I’m right and I choose not to do anything?

  My fingernails dig into my palm. If I don’t act now, what else could I lose? It’d be better to fight to protect what’s important to me than to not even try and lose everything left that I love. Jay was right. I can’t just sit here and indulge in my own self-pity anymore. I can’t stop here. Not yet.

  I take a steadying breath. I can do this. I stand. It takes a few seconds to steady myself. Losing my arm was my only serious injury; the rest of my body has mostly healed, but I still feel like it hasn’t. Standing is disorienting—and makes me immediately irritated. The disconnect between remembering how easily, how thoughtlessly I’ve always moved clashing with how I feel in this moment cuts deep.

  Then Erik is there beside me, holding out his arm for support. I take it.

  We head into the hall, and I try my best to block out the panicked thoughts of everyone nearby rushing into my head. The questions, the fury—I can’t handle it right now. I have to stay focused.

  As soon as Erik opens the door to the meeting room, loud conversation bursts out. Everyone still crowds around a now-dark monitor, talking over one another, trying to figure out what to take care of first. I spot Jay and Al standing next to each other, then find Trist and Peter, near the front, trying to gain calm, with Syon nearby.

  I let out a long, steadying breath before I raise my voice. “Quiet.”

  When everyone immediately falls silent and turns to me, I realize how uninspiring I must appear as a leader. I just rolled out of bed and I’m sure I look it. My bandaged stump of an arm is in clear view for everyone to see. But I straighten my back. I try to emanate the feeling of control I’d always felt prior to our huge loss. It doesn’t come as easily now, but I find it.

  “I think Ellis’s broadcast is a distraction,” I say, pushing past my nerves. “It’ll throw the sector into chaos and confusion. People accusing each other. No one trusting those in charge. No one knowing what to do. It’s the perfect chance to deal Sector Eight a death blow.”

  “But why would she—if she knew all this from the beginning, why didn’t she reveal it right away?” Erik asks. His question reflects everyone’s confusion. “She never even told me about all this.” I didn’t get the feeling Gabriel or the others knew, either. “Why would she even want this war on the sector when she could’ve just tried to overthrow the Council from the start? She could’ve done so much more to get peace for the gifted with this. She didn’t need war.”

  “I have no idea what she’s thinking,” I say. “Maybe it’s because she’s more interested in wiping out the ungifted than getting them to live with us peacefully. But this is just like the negotiations meeting she staged. Why else wait until now to reveal such important information? This is nothing but a distraction for a bigger goal. We can’t fall for it again.”

  The mood in the room shifts. The uncertain thoughts from when I first entered are still there, but sharpened with new purpose.

  “Rowan, Navarro, find the files Ellis released and check their authenticity,” I say. I don’t leave myself time to question whether or not anyone will listen to me. “See if you can trace them back to their source—not the rebels, but to the cameras they were originally taken from.”

  “Roger,” Rowan says with a salute. Navarro nods.

  “Amal, you and the other captains gather everyone in the Order for an emergency assembly. We need to talk about Ellis’s broadcast before panic spreads.” I pause. “Along with some other important things moving forward.”

  “Understood,” Amal says.

  I open my mouth, close it. When my voice comes out again, it sounds less steady. “The rest of you, stay. We need to talk.”

  Everyone rushes out of the room to follow my orders. I try to meet their eyes as they pass me by—I owe them that much, at least, having abandoned them after that last battle—but they’re all focused on setting out to accomplish their tasks.

  Once it’s only the seven of us left, I look to Trist and Peter and Syon. I’m at a loss for words. All the times they came to visit me over the past few days, I didn’t know how to face them. I didn’t know how to talk about Fiona. But somehow, it was like they understood. They were quiet in their encouragement but strong. They really believed in me, even when I didn’t. Up until I saw Ellis’s broadcast and knew what she was going to do, I didn’t think I’d get back up. But somehow, they did.

  “Good to have you back, Lai,” Peter says with a grin. Trist smiles as warmly as ever at me. Syon is more subdued, as always, but he gives me a small nod. I know he’s still mourning. Fiona was as close to family as he’d ever had. But he’s still moving forward despite that.

  “It’s good to be back.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. When I speak again, my voice sounds stronger in my ears. “We need to plan a counterattack. I doubt Ellis will try to be sneaky; there’s no need for her to be since the sector will be in a state of chaos after that broadcast. We need to talk to Austin and coordinate with him and the military, but—I think we’re going to have to face the rebels head-on.” I hesitate for the first time since I started talking this out. “If anyone is willing to go back into battle.”

  It’s a lot to ask of people who’ve already lost so much. Too much. Will any of them believe me about Ellis’s imminent attack? Will any of them even be willing to follow me into battle again? I doubt it. I don’t know if I would. But at the meeting, if it looks like everyone would rather have a new, better leader, I’ll step aside and let them choose someone else. The Order is more than me. It should be led by someone who has everyone’s trust.

  You were wrong about me, Fiona. The Order doesn’t need me. It’ll continue on no matter who’s leading it, so long as that person has everyone’s confidence.

  “I’m sure there are people who still want to fight,” Al says. She’s grinning fiercely. She’s been quiet but supportive the last few days, but this is the first time I’ve seen the fire back in her since our lost battle. “The Order’s made up of a bunch of survivors and fighters. I think you’ll have more takers than you think. Besides, it beats the alternative. I’m sure they all know that.”

  Her confidence sinks into me, grounds me. How is she so good at that? “You’re right,” I say. �
�We’ll need a plan before we can convince everyone, so we’ll concentrate on that for now and go from there after the meeting. Jay—” I turn to him without thinking, but as soon as I see him, I flinch. We’ve spoken since our fight after I first woke up, but it wasn’t really ever quite right. Is he sick of me by now? Is he tired of my indecisiveness?

  But when I lock gazes with Jay, his eyes are soft. His hands are clasped in front of him as he awaits orders.

  I swallow. “Jay, I need you to meet with Austin as soon as we figure out details here. If we’re going to have any chance of pulling this off, we’ll need the military’s help. The Order alone can’t win this.”

  “Of course,” he says. “Just say the word.” I’m … sorry for getting angry at you before. You were hurting. Of course you were. You needed time, not me exploding on you.

  No, I answer back in his thoughts. No, I needed that. I needed you to tell me I was wrong. I need that a lot more in my life, actually. Thank you.

  He smiles slightly. Always.

  I turn to address everyone again. When I do, I see all of them, all these people I care so much about, all these people who kept believing in me, watching me expectantly. Waiting for orders. Believing in what I’m going to say.

  My chest wells up with something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before. Gratitude? Happiness? Whatever it is, I hold it close. I don’t ever want to forget this moment, this sensation. This sense of responsibility.

  I won’t run away anymore. I’ll stand by my friends and do whatever I can to protect them. No matter what else I might lose, I’m going to keep going. Even if I lose everything, I’m going to keep fighting with the scraps I have left.

  30

  JAY

  I WEAVE THROUGH Central’s rushing halls without attempting to hide myself. It hardly feels as though there’s a need to at the moment. Most of the soldiers run past me without giving me a second glance; everything is chaos as orders are shouted through halls and everyone scrambles to carry them out. Squads head out to prevent the protests from turning violent. Others are sent to gather and confirm information. Presences converge on my internal grid in flurries of bright reds and purples. No one has time to pay me any mind. Those who do notice me either choose to ignore me or else gape openly. But no one attempts to stop me.