by S. S. Segran
No. No. No. No. No.
Blood pounded in his ears, in his head, and his vision split into dizzying fragments, a mirror cracking from the strike of a fist.
No. No. NO.
His breaths came in short, shallow bursts. He wanted to grab at the invisible hand gripping his throat, tear it from his airway. Nausea churned in his stomach, building up to a riptide.
NO. NO. NO. NO!
He bellowed and screamed and raged, hurling curses at Jag, at Reyor, at the universe. He tried to break free, almost tipping over the wheelchair, but was too weak to go up against Jag’s strength and was soon back in his room.
As his friend strapped him once more into the reclined chair and fastened the band around his head and neck, he wept. He hated feeling weak, feeling helpless, but that was all he’d been since he got sick. He thought he had sunk low then, but this went beyond even that.
Jag steadied his head with both hands and touched his brow to Kody’s. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Breathe and let it all go. You’re almost there, brother. It’s hard, I know. It always is. But it’ll be worth it.”
With one last comforting look, he left. Kody stared at the closed door long after Jag was gone, slowly becoming detached from himself until he could sense the world around him no more.
Tony lounged back in his luxurious leather chair, marveling at the quality of the new office that doubled as his private quarters in the Heart. Truly, no expense had been spared—and why not splurge when money would soon be a useless commodity, especially if one possessed near-limitless funds? Ambient inset lights in the cove ceiling, a king-sized bed plush enough to drown in, hanging plants and small quartz sculptures . . .
The only thing missing was a window.
There’s no way the Boss meant it when she said we’d be staying down here for months or years. She’s got to let us out onto the resort site once in a while . . . right?
His curved table hosted three monitors. The one on the left displayed the faces of the Heads of Sanctuaries and Dr. Nate in individual frames, while the one on the right showed Adrian Black, Jerry Li, Dr. Bertram and the other chief executives of Phoenix’s most important subsidiaries. Bertram looked properly chastised, and his face had not lost its ruddy shade since the Boss gave him a nasty tongue-lashing near the opening of the meeting for losing the queen.
One person was noticeably missing from the gathering: Vladimir Ajajdif. The Boss had been oddly silent about it, and Tony wondered what went on in her head about the loss of one of her earliest followers. The monitor in the center was meant solely for her as she conducted the Inner Circle meeting—the first one without her voice modulated or her face thrown in shadow.
“Phoenix has kept its word to you that it would look after you and your families,” she was now saying. “I trust that you’ve all settled in. Thanks to Dr. Nate’s work, I’m certain they’ve all found their new purpose, and we are glad to add them to our family.”
There were polite smiles all around. Tony pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his eyes drifting away from the assemblage. Apart from Adrian who had no family, he was the only member who hadn’t brought anyone into the fold. It had been a few years since he’d last spoken to his parents, and they’d never reconciled their differences.
If only they could see me now, he thought, half-bitter. Surrounded by more wealth than they ever were and carving a name for myself, just like they wanted. But I’m actually making a difference in the world—something they never cared about.
He refused to allow guilt to make him second-guess his decision. Yes, he was their only son and the single heir to a long-standing family enterprise. Yes, he owed them for giving him life. But they hardly ever cared about him, so why wouldn’t he extend to them the same courtesy—or lack thereof, as was the case?
He gave himself a couple smarting pats on the cheek to refocus, hoping he looked alert enough on camera.
“All the pieces of the Ventures have fallen into place,” the Boss said. “Despite some setbacks and reshuffling of schedules, you have all stepped up to make our vision a reality. And for that I must applaud you. It was no easy task to work around the clock. Dr. Nate, for the sake of appreciation, please run us through our accomplishments.”
Dr. Nate pushed his spectacles higher up his nose and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. He was positively beaming, the glow in his face matching the shine of his greasy, combed hair. “The first wave took out sixty-five percent of the world’s food crops. The second wave capped fatalities at just about two billion now. Regrettably, a cure was found which decimated the progress of the Omega strain, but those afflicted with the Alpha strain will still succumb to rapid aging, though no more will be infected. We can add an additional few million to our figures by the time the second wave has run its course.
“We rolled out the third and final wave almost two weeks ago—EMPs unleashed above Earth, as well as portable ones deployed in cities worldwide. Silicon Valley and Seattle were two examples that required up close and personal detonations. In one fell swoop, we took down infrastructure and communication. Additionally, while that was ’appening, our operatives from the former Soviet Baltic states took to the ocean floor in shielded submarines and severed the main undersea internet cables. Though ’ardened intranet systems within particular governments and military organizations might still function within their domains, there’s nothing for them to connect to.”
“It is an unfortunate thing to forcibly collapse humanity’s collective knowledge,” the Boss said. “But while the internet of old was tainted and poisoned with filth, ours will be better, purer.”
Dr. Nate bobbed his head zealously. “Very much so. We will ’ave time enough down ’ere to put the final details in place and ’ave it accessible to all once we return to the surface. Now, lastly, we released the Scourgers, followed shortly by the Camazotz. It is impossible to know exactly ’ow much the population will dwindle during this, but if conservative estimates are correct, then in a few months’ time we will only be dealing with a billion straggling survivors, perhaps two at most. The government we will put in place should be able to round them up easily thanks to the resources we will have at the ready.”
An ovation swept through the speakers. The Inner Circle held their chins up proudly and there was a sense of relief that they’d made it to the end at last.
The Head of the New Mexico Sanctuary raised her hand. The Boss gave her the floor. Arianna Abdul tucked her hair behind her ears and wet her lips. “Does this mean that Project Icarus won’t be needed anymore?”
An uneasy silence took hold of the Inner Circle. The Boss’s lips turned up in a cold smile. “As you all know well by now, I never put all my eggs in one basket. For the time being, we will hold that card in reserve.”
The rest of the members nodded in quiet acknowledgment, no one wishing to voice their apprehension. Tony knew the Boss would rather avoid that path as much as any of them, but it was the final play for a reason.
“Lastly, I received word from an informant that Vladimir has been located. He was taken to a larger village in the DRC for treatment after narrowly escaping death at the hands of our enemies.”
The relieved looks of everyone on screen grew livid. “What is his condition now?” someone asked.
“Stable and recovering,” the Boss said. “I have already dispatched a team to retrieve him. The informant, one of the doctors we paid to keep track of the disease in Africa, says he will need a week or so to get back on his feet.”
“I think I speak for everyone here when I say that it’ll be good to have him back among us,” said Adrian Black.
Tony refrained from rolling his eyes. It was no secret that Black and Ajajdif hardly got along. But I suppose we’re supposed to foster a united front, especially now that the Ventures have come to fruition.
“Now,” said the Boss, “if there is nothing else, I would like to make an announcement before we adjourn. Seeing as I was unable to finish my
rounds of the Sanctuaries, I will be flying out this afternoon to complete the circuit. Ms. Abdul?”
Arianna straightened her shoulders. “Yes?”
“New Mexico will be my first stop. I would like to get that one particular control room linked up to the Heart’s system as soon as possible.”
“Understood. We will be ready for your arrival.”
“Dr. Bertram.”
The old German scientist looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Yes, Boss?”
“Elias Hajjar will be heading the search for the queen, but I am laying the responsibility squarely on your shoulders. The queen needs to be returned where she belongs, or the cost of failure will be your life.”
Her ultimatum seemed to have Bertram teetering on the edge of consciousness. All he could offer was a weak acknowledgment.
“To the rest,” said the Boss, “I will see some of you soon. We have done good work over the past years. Celebrate. You’ve earned it.”
The meeting came to a close, and immediately a message popped up on one of Tony’s monitors: “Stay put. I’m coming up to see you.”
Tony sent a speedy response and hurried to the full-length mirror to ensure his shirt and gray blazer were immaculate. His short golden curls flopped over his forehead nicely.
Someone knocked on the door a few minutes later. Tony opened it and stepped aside, giving the Boss space to sweep into the room. She turned to him as he shut the door. “I’ve just about finalized the details.”
“Uh, for wha—oh, you mean the raid?”
“The collecting of resources to fill in our genetic diversity pool, yes.”
Tony chuckled. Semantics, he thought, but didn’t dare say out loud. “Have you decided who will be leading it?”
She stared at him, faintly amused. “I am personally standing in your quarters. Take a guess.”
Fervor surged through him and he failed to hold back his grin. “I was really hoping you’d trust me with this.”
“Mmh. We will be distributing five hundred villagers among the Sanctuaries. The Ospreys have been modified by Quest Defense to carry fifty people each and two pilots, which means you will have to conduct multiple runs. It’s far less efficient than I would prefer it to be, but we’ll have to make do.” From within her coat, she pulled out a file and a flash drive. “Everything you need to know and prepare for. Ah, and one last thing. You’ll be working with Mr. Sanchez.”
Tony’s face fell. “What?”
“He’s waiting outside. Let him in.”
Stunned, he shuffled back to the door and opened it again. Jag, standing a good few inches taller than him, stepped in. Tony was at a loss. “Why—I don’t understand—”
The Boss gave Jag an appraising look. “He knows Dema-Ki well. Believe me, if things go sideways, you’ll want someone with his abilities around.” She extended a hand and grasped Tony’s shoulder, catching him by surprise. “Don’t worry, you’ll still be running point and reporting back to me.”
“You won’t be joining?”
“If we didn’t have Mr. Sanchez with us, then I would. With him here, it would be safer and wiser for everyone if he went in my stead. I need to make my own preparations for the Sanctuary visits, so I’ll leave you two to it.”
She left, the faint scent of wild rose trailing behind her. Tony stalked toward the other end of the room and slammed the dossier onto the table. “Unbelievable,” he hissed. “Now I have to babysit, too?”
“I can handle myself, in case you’ve forgotten about Kansas,” Jag called. “And I think I did pretty well in Israel considering I had a broken leg.” There was a soft whoomp, paired with the sound of fabric against fabric. “Oof, this is really nice.”
Tony composed himself and turned. Jag was watching him as he lounged on one of the opulent chairs with a leg hanging over the armrest, arms akimbo against the plush support.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” Tony growled.
“Are you repurposed?”
“Tch. I didn’t have to be. I was naturally committed.”
“So you’re the special one?”
Tony shrugged. “It’s not something we talk about here. Culture of the place and all that, which you could stand to learn more about.”
Jag continued to stare at him, his passive expression broken only by occasional blinks.
“You look like a shmuck with your hair parted that way,” Tony snapped.
“Kody said the same thing.” Jag shook a hand through his hair, returning it to its normal state. “You know, I have these memories of wanting to hurt you. Badly. But it’s like I don’t feel the emotions or drive behind them anymore. It’s weird.”
So that was why the kid’s eyeballs had been glued to him.
Tony slid into the chair across from Jag. They had been on opposing sides for months; now here they were, having to play nice with each other. Or rather, Tony had to. Jag seemed to be completely in line with the cause. If he weren’t, Tony was certain he’d have been throttled the moment the Boss left.
“Are you saying that you wouldn’t hurt me?” he asked. “What if I socked you in the gut? No rage, no urge for revenge?”
“All I meant was that the anger I had toward you—and Phoenix as a whole—isn’t there anymore. Take a swing at me and I’ll retaliate, so it would be smart if you didn’t try to come at me like that.”
There was no malice or mockery in Jag’s words, but Tony still bristled. The worst part was, despite his proficiency in martial arts and self-defense, he knew he was no match for the teenager’s enhanced physical capabilities. And since the Boss had started putting Jag through drills, he’d become even more lethal.
And that’s only with about a week of training, he thought. What will he be like once a month passes? A year? Nine hours total per day spent conditioning, a good chunk of it under the Boss’s supervision . . . He better not take my place. I fought hard to get back up the ladder.
The communicator on Jag’s wrist beeped. He glanced down at it, brow pinching.
“What?” Tony went to retrieve the mission dossier and spread its contents out on the glass coffee table. Memos, satellite images of Dema-Ki, mission details . . . he nearly salivated at the sight of it all. He wasn’t meant to be sitting behind a desk, trapped underground. He needed to be in the field.
“Just got an update from the head of the Counselor echelon here,” Jag answered. “It’s day five and Kody’s still going.”
“If he doesn’t break soon, the Boss might just do the easier thing and put him down.”
Something flitted across Jag’s eyes, too quick for Tony to decipher. “They say he sometimes gives in but at the last moment, he fights back. I’m sure it won’t take too much longer.”
“You better hope so.” Tony smacked the tabletop twice. “Now come on, we need to go over this. No plan survives first contact with the enemy, but I want that to be our exception, not the rule.” He smiled crookedly. “We’re gonna have some real good fun soon.”
The crowd gazed at the Elders, of whom only four were now present in the community square—a meadow bordered by a line of towering trees with a natural amphitheater at one end, flanked by a pair of layered-roof gazebos under which were massive firepits.
As Tayoka welcomed the rest of the villagers, Nageau stole a look to his right. Saiyu, beside him, was stock-still. Nothing about her demeanor betrayed a trace of emotion. Despite the others’ insistence that she rest, she had argued to be with them this frigid winter morning. Nageau admired her perseverance. Twice now she’d suffered brutal heartbreak, yet here she was refusing to put aside her responsibilities as an Elder. The Council had looked after her in the days following Ashack’s murder. She rarely spoke; only yesterday had she joined them for a meeting as they prepared their speeches for the community.
Tayoka wrapped up the greetings and dipped his head at the leading Elder. Nageau took in the faces before him, inhaled deeply, and spoke. “Friends. Much has happen
ed since the younglings were brought to us and it seems that, for the time being, returning to what was is not a possibility. There is much to disclose. Let us start with the most difficult news—the harbinger has taken the Chosen Ones.”
Stunned gasps passed through the square. The people turned to one another, hands reaching out in search of someone to anchor to. Nageau kept his expression steady but uttering those words had been burdensome, a revelation weighted with grief and guilt, and terror for the future. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, readying himself to press on, but someone in the front row cried out. “We have the prophecy and yet this still happened? What is this supposed to mean?”
“Have we misinterpreted it?” a woman demanded.
With a sinking heart, Nageau saw accusation in the eyes of some of his kin, many of whom had once been swayed long ago by the harbinger’s understanding of the prophecy. He held up a hand. “Please, let us not—”
“Was Reyor’s version of the prophecy right all along?” a man at the back shouted, his booming voice carrying toward the Elders. Nageau froze, as did the entire crowd.
It was the first time in years that name had been publicly uttered.
On Nageau’s left, Tikina bumped her elbow against his arm, urging him back to the present. Nageau glanced up at the gray sky and cast his own voice out with the amphitheater’s aid. “Reyor’s version of the prophecy calls for destruction by our hands. If you sincerely believe the carnage and suffering she is causing the outside world is divinely inspired, I ask you to heed my next words.” He looked back to the crowd. “From the moment our ancestors claimed their home island, we have been a people of peace. We do not inflict pain on the innocent. We do not seek out wars or create them. We especially do not pursue control over the populace, no matter how noble we believe our cause to be. We nurture, we guide, we build.”