Covenant

by Andreas Christensen

  Then, as suddenly as it had started, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. They walked into a hallway, and Shukov stepped over to a door with the number 601 on it.

  “Well,” he said, “this is it.” He opened the door, and Sue stepped into her new home.

  Chapter 10

  Mark

  The door burst open and First Janissary Ivanov stomped in.

  “You bastard,” he simply said. The chill in his voice could have made any man freeze. Mark had been waiting for this, though, and poured two glasses of his best red, like he hadn’t even heard Ivanov’s noisy entry into his study.

  “Susan Atlas is on the Moon. And you put her there,” Ivanov said. Mark turned around and nodded affirmatively.

  “Please sit. Here, drink,” he said, not bothering with the angry man’s response. Ivanov quieted down a bit and sat on the couch, still glaring.

  “Now you listen to me,” Mark said, and sat down opposite him.

  “Yes, I made sure she was safely off, and I have set up arrangements on Luna to provide for her. Letting the Corpus have her for so long was crazy, and you know that,” he said.

  Ivanov barked back, “Was it? She should have wasted away in their mines. In a couple of years, she would have been gone, forgotten and no longer a problem. Damn Wardens couldn’t hold her, but the Corpus would have. That’s what they do, after all.” Mark nodded slowly, then cocked his head at the First Janissary.

  “But she is a known hero. Have you forgotten that? What kind of scandal would there have been if it came out that we sent her to the Corpus?” He took a deep gulp of the wine.

  “Instead, we sent her to Luna. Imagine, an English girl allowed into the heart of the Moon people! Instead of a scandal, an outrage, we have a story, an honor awarded to one of the many heroes who serve the Covenant.” He still got no reply from Ivanov, but he seemed to be listening, so Mark went on.

  “She can be the reclusive hero. To be displayed on special occasions, but otherwise kept solitary for as long as we deem appropriate. You and I know it’s a life sentence, English life, of course. She will not have the treatment, so in time, we need to get the public to forget about her. For now though, that’s not something we need to worry about.”

  “You know how dangerous she is,” Ivanov spat. Mark shook his head.

  “Not anymore,” he said. “She will be restricted to her apartment. She will be no threat to anyone, and besides, I still have hope that we can turn her. Anyway, this is the best way to deal with her,” he said. Ivanov finished his glass in one big gulp and set it down.

  “Excellent wine,” he said, and got to his feet. “Okay, Counselor. Let’s keep her confined, for now. I will not interfere. But if she causes any more trouble, I will personally take care of her.”

  The First Janissary walked out, and Mark let out a deep breath. Hopefully, the First Janissary would stay true to his word, though Mark had the feeling it had all gone a bit too smoothly. Ivanov wasn’t usually this cooperative. He picked up his infopad and typed a quick message to Evan Hordvik.

  Dave

  He had given up his idea of driving the steam car by himself as soon as Mayor Robertson explained to him how long it took to learn to drive. Dave had never ridden in a car before in his life, much less driven one, and once he saw the contraption, he decided to let one of Carol’s aides take him.

  He gave the driver his directions, a simple set of coordinates, and she checked out her map and made sure she knew where they were headed. Then Dave strapped himself in the back, his backpack next to him, and his hand firmly clenched around his newly forged ID. His papers should hold up, and he had a set of lenses that would match the ID if any roadblocks or patrols were to scan his retinas. Unless he met someone who knew him, he’d be good.

  They drove through Charlestown, just as the streetlights were coming on. The ride shouldn’t take longer than half an hour, more than enough time for the driver to get back safely in time for the curfew. Dave looked out the window, and a slight pang of regret hit him. A year ago, he’d been walking through these very streets with his friends; it was another time, when the only care in the world was how to ace the next test. He’d been thinking about Service a lot back then, and imagined going to Legacy, to become a Student. He was going to change the world.

  It seemed a lifetime ago, and yet, as they drove past street corners and alleys that had once been familiar, it felt like just like yesterday. But now, everything was different. He saw officers walking along the sidewalk, and heat rose inside him. Those were the tools of oppression, what made the English accept and take for granted being treated as second class, not even citizens. He still wanted to change the world, but now, it wasn’t about fame or admiration; it was all about justice. He realized he was crumpling his papers in his fist, and loosened his grip on them. He straightened them out and slipped them in his inner pocket, next to his chest.

  The steam car exited Charlestown without incident. They only passed one checkpoint, where the driver, who seemed to be known to the officers, explained that she was out to get something for the mayor, and they let her pass just like that. Soon, they reached the woods north of the city. They turned and entered a narrow dirt path, used by loggers and state-approved hunters, and kept driving until they reached a wide clearing. There, in the middle, stood a cloaked airship, waiting. Dave immediately recognized the design. It was one of the newer kind, speed and fighting capabilities sacrificed for optimized stealth and long range. One of Novak’s personal agents stood outside, casually holding a gun, barrel pointed down. There was nothing casual about his eyes, though, Dave saw, once he exited the car. The agent scanned him and the driver quickly, eyes darting back and forth, and at the same time, keeping an eye on the woods around them.

  “Quickly,” he urged, motioning to Dave. “We take off as soon as we’re on board.” Dave thanked the driver, who got back in her car, and followed the agent on board the airship. As soon as the hatch closed, the airship lifted off. The agent led him to a seat right behind the cockpit.

  “Time to go west,” the agent said, grinning. He gave Dave a small package.

  “The man wanted you to have this. Whatever you do, don’t lose it. Take the package to your destination and don’t open it until you’re there. Inside there’s a device, looks like a black box. You just power it up as soon as you’re alone. That’s the red button. Then, press the green button, and a signal will be sent, letting him know that you’re online. And that’s it,” he said. Dave took the package and put it in his backpack. The agent leaned over, a stern look on his face.

  “Oh, and if you’re caught, press the yellow button first, then the green and the red. That’ll fry everything inside. Do not let anyone get that thing, do you understand. No one.” Dave nodded.

  Evan

  It was his third day on Luna, and Evan was growing desperately restless. He’d already gone and met a few of his old friends, those who lived here, but he quickly realized they had grown apart. His life back on Earth and their lives here on Luna, aristocrats without a care in the world, without a clue, were too different. Although it was nice to see the faces of friends he hadn’t seen for years, he felt anger stirring as soon as they began speaking. These people were spoiled and so protected from the realities of the rest of the world, he had to keep himself from screaming at them. While he’d been risking his life patrolling the northern border, they had been feasting and partying in luxurious clubs all through the Twin cities, spending their fortunes like there was no tomorrow. When he’d been walking through the radioactive wasteland, mopping up conquered lands, and taking northerners south for processing, they were getting high on synthetic drugs and eating gourmet steaks from wild deer shipped live from Earth aboard transport shuttles, so that the meat would be nice and tender when they were slaughtered.

  This wasn’t a home for him. And he felt even stronger than he had before, that the Moon people were growing weak and spoiled. If this didn’t change, they’d be headed for a
catastrophic downfall, just like those before them. Just like the people before the Fall.

  He kicked off his slippers, cursing at the soft lining, and looked out the window at the big square ten stories below. Small figures in robes or tight-fitting suits were walking leisurely about, speaking to each other, probably planning what to wear for this evening’s dinner party. There was none of the bustle of Legacy, where everyone seemed to be going somewhere, doing something, English and Moon people alike. No, this was a city where nothing was made, nothing created. Not anymore. This might be the cultural heart of their people, but Evan thought it looked more like the nursing home of a dying breed, only, the people here were so sheltered, they didn’t know it yet.

  He looked forward to going back to the Luna Brigade compound again. That would be something completely different. Most members of the Brigade were recruited from Earth, he’d heard, and very few of those slobs down on the square had anything to do with the military facilities on Luna. The military, as well as the research and tech facilities, were secluded, self-sustaining communities spread out across the surface or under ground, with little to do with daily life in the Twin cities.

  His infopad pinged, and Evan turned to see what had come in. He had a new message. From Mark Novak. Evan read the message, and his eyes narrowed. He read it again before putting the infopad down.

  So, Susan Atlas had been picked up by the Corpus, and now Novak had arranged for her to be sent to the Moon, a prisoner in a golden cage. She was right here, in Nidaros, and Novak wanted him to find her. He shook his head. What was he supposed to do? And why had Novak sent her here?

  Dave

  They were flying through the night, and Dave wondered how long the flight would take. He asked as much, but the agent had just hunched his shoulders. He still didn’t fully understand Counselor Novak’s plan, and he didn’t know for sure that he wanted to be a part of it, but he did know he needed to get out of the Covenant. And that meant crossing the Rift and going west.

  “Can I go speak to the pilot?” he said. The agent scooted closer.

  “You will absolutely not speak to the pilot. Listen, the pilot works for the Security Directorate, and he’s made this trip lots of times already. He’s used to taking agents across the Rift.” Dave noticed the agent looked toward the cockpit door, while he lowered his voice.

  “But what he doesn’t know is that right now, he’s working for the counselor. He doesn’t need to know. You and I are the only ones who know right now, so let’s keep it that way. As far as he knows, you’re just another field agent sent to spy on Buchanan.” Dave looked at the agent again.

  “You never told me your name,” he said. The agent grinned.

  “Funny that,” he said. Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, still grinning.

  “Crossing the Rift in five minutes,” a voice said above him. It was the pilot speaking. Dave tried to relax, but he was too wound up to even close his eyes. Then, a minute later, the pilot spoke again, in an urgent voice.

  “We’ve got a tail. A scramjet, one of ours, closing in from the north.”

  The agent’s eyes shot open, and he quickly grabbed another pack from under his seat.

  “They must have caught on to us. They won’t allow any unauthorized flights to cross the Rift. Now hurry, get this one onto your back.” Within seconds, the agent was strapping Dave tightly into the new pack. Then he got Novak’s pack and fastened it to Dave’s chest. The agent went and pulled a lever on the wall, opening a hatch in the back of the airship.

  “Run!” he shouted. When Dave hesitated, the agent grabbed his collar roughly.

  “I said run! The chute will open at the appropriate altitude. You don’t have to do a thing. Just brace for landing, bend your knees a bit, and let yourself roll when you land. You’ll be fine,” he said. An alarm sounded, and the pilot spoke again, his voice frantic this time.

  “They have locked onto us. They’re firing rockets!”

  “What about you?” Dave asked the agent, voice quivering. The agent grimaced, his eyes dark.

  “Don’t worry about me. Now run!” he said, and pushed Dave toward the open hatch.

  Dave ran and jumped out into the night.

  Chapter 11

  Mark

  Mark knew he was dreaming. But the dream was so vivid, so true to what had happened, and like every other time, he knew he would wake up soaked in sweat, a silent scream on his lips. He usually had the same dream once or twice a year, as he had for the last two centuries.

  He’s sitting next to his friend, having a cold beer, on the terrace of his cabin, overlooking the lake. They’re chatting about old times, even though Mark has this big secret he wants to share with his friend. He’s working on cryo tech for the Project, and part of that deals with regenerating and rejuvenating cells that have lain dormant or in low-activity mode because of suspended animation. Mark hasn’t told anyone yet, but he believes he has made a ground-breaking discovery; a way to extend life further than anyone ever dreamed of when the Project began. He will have plenty of opportunity to test his theory, since the Project is still in its early phases. But all of those thoughts fade into the background, because there is something else he’s supposed to do that night. Thatcher is coming, the enigmatic leader of the secret opposition, and Mark feels certain his friend will join them. When Thatcher speaks, people listen, and though his friend is working closely with the president, Mark knows he is a man of conscience, a man of honor.

  He looks at his friend, and somehow, in the dream, he knows that bringing him into this will turn out badly. But the insurgents need him. It’s the only way they can gain control of the bigger Project, the one that will ensure humanity will go on, somewhere else.

  The younger Mark believes his days are numbered, even though the older Mark has learned that he will survive the cataclysm, to live with the consequences of his actions for centuries still. But for the younger Mark, bringing his friend into the conspiracy is something that needs to be done, even if it will cost him his life.

  Thatcher arrives, and Mark steps away while his friend speaks to the leader of the insurgence. Once they are done, and Thatcher leaves, Mark comes out to sit next to his friend again. He can already tell something has changed between them.

  “How long have you known?” his friend asks quietly. Mark looks down, dangling his beer back and forth, considering his answer.

  “A while...” he says, looking off toward the lake. “Look, I’m sorry I had to drag you into this,” Mark says, but his friend waves it off.

  “I can make my own choices. Besides, he’s right. We have to make sure the new world doesn’t turn out like the old one. We have to give them a chance.”

  They sit silently for a while, and that’s when the dream changes. Mark now stands on a hilltop. It is a cold and windy day, and he can tell he is somewhere in the northern Midwest. This is the part of the dream he knows is only partially true, since he knows exactly where he was when this happened. He doesn’t know whether his friend was actually here, but he has this feeling, like he always has, that this must have been the way it went down. This is what it was like above ground, when the old world ended.

  He looks up. The sky is streaked with burning fragments, and the clouds are tinted ominously, purple and red and orange and black. It is here, he thinks, as he has thought so many times before, having relived this scenario more times than he can count.

  Below him, in the valley, a concrete structure stands, surrounded by a square fence and guard towers in all four corners. His friend is inside, captured by the people he once served. He is accused of treason, but Mark knows he will never see a court. A tear runs down his cheek, sadness for his friend, who will never get to see the world after. He wipes the tear away.

  The ground begins shaking, and Mark knows he will wake up soon. That’s when he always finds himself floating a few feet above ground. He looks down and sees rifts in the ground opening up, sometimes spewing out molten rock and lava. He
sees the earth rolling as if it were an ocean, wave after wave passing by below him. He looks at the concrete structure, just in time to see it break apart. The roof caves in, and he knows his friend is in there. And there is nothing he can do. He screams his name...

  “Trevor!” He thought he was screaming, though it was probably just in his head, as he shot up from the soaked pillow, sheets rolled into a pile down by his feet. He sat for a moment, shaking the dream off, getting a grip on himself. Then he got up and went to get a glass of water. He drank eagerly and set the glass aside. Then he walked over to his charging dock, where his infopad stood. He picked it up, and saw that he had a short message. It was from the mayor.

  “OK” is all it said. It meant that young Wagner was safely delivered to the airship. He checked the time. They should be crossing into Warden territory about now, a dangerous stretch for sure, but a trip the pilot had made several times before. All he could do now was wait.

  Renee

  The final transport aircraft was arriving at the Buchanan airfield, just south of the city proper, and Renee breathed a sigh of relief. She had been on the first ride, against her will, but Captain Lee had insisted on it. They needed her to take charge once the refugees arrived, he had said. So she had complied. But it had been nerve-racking hours, waiting for them. After all, they had been fairly close to the Rift, and she had worried that Covenant soldiers would cross it and attack them on this side. But so far, everything had gone smoothly, and they were finally here, all of them. Now, she could rest, knowing that she had brought her people to safety. They had lost too many along the way, but what could very well be the last of the French had arrived in Buchanan, where no one would harm them.