Shadow Soldier (The Shadow Saga)

by J. L. Lyon

  How could something like this have escaped the notice of the MWR? No, he realized, the MWR would not know. Tradition dictated that when a slave was captured, their possessions were locked away and given to their new master to be used as he saw fit. No other was permitted to open the box, and in the case of the MWR he probably had seen no reason to. As for the slave traders, they possibly didn’t have a clue what the Gladius was—or perhaps they didn’t care. To reveal her would have been to subject her to execution, in which case they wouldn’t have gotten paid.

  With growing apprehension, 301 examined the other object in the chest: a small wooden box. He reached for the box where it lay and opened it. A bright off-white glow lit up his face, and his suspicions were confirmed. The box contained twenty vials of Solithium, prepared for use in Spectral Gladii.

  The woman who had been given to him as a slave was in fact a member of the rebellion, and a Spectral-adept, no less. What else could he do now but detain her and turn her in? Or perhaps he should just kill her now and be done with it. He heard the bathroom door shut behind him, and he whirled around quickly, ready to fend off the rebel traitor who certainly had found some weapon in the bathroom with which to kill him.

  But Grace did not stand before him ready to fight. She knelt at his feet with her head down, her arms stretched forward in supplication.

  17

  GRACE KNEW SHE HAD TO ACT fast upon exiting the bathroom, but it took her a second to decide what to do. There stood 301-14-A, examining her Spectral Gladius with understandable surprise, no doubt contemplating what must be done about this horrible revelation. She didn’t know what she had expected—perhaps that her captors would have been astute enough to omit the Gladius from her possessions—but now she wished she had been more prepared.

  In that split second, she had to decide between two options. The first was to charge him, attempt to wrest the Gladius from his hands and strike him down, then take her chances at escaping from this impregnable fortress, which would likely end in her death. Or she could plead her case before the man who had become her master in the hopes that he would understand, and spare her.

  And so it was a choice between death as a warrior, or life as a slave. But then a third possibility came to her, and it was so overwhelmingly clear that she knew immediately what to do. As he began to turn on her, she fell to her knees on the floor and held out her hands to show she bore him no ill will.

  For a moment he hesitated, evidently surprised by her submission. She was surprised by it herself. But then she heard it: the fateful sound. Her Gladius came to life in 301’s hand, and the blade hovered above her head threateningly, as though it might fall upon her at any moment. It was now or never, “I will not lie to you, sir. The Gladius is mine. I have been trained in the use of it since I was sixteen years old, and am counted among the best swords of the Silent Thunder rebellion. It is within your rights under the World System to kill me now if you so desire, but if you spare me I swear before God that I will serve you faithfully. That decision—and my life—I leave in your hands.”

  There was a brief pause, followed by 301’s quiet and conflicted voice, “And how am I to know that you won’t kill me in my sleep, rebel? I am a servant of a government that you hate! How could you ever serve me?”

  She lifted her eyes to his. “We are all slaves to something. I was a member of the rebellion, yes, but that life is over. So long as you do not ask me to endanger those I love, I will accept this new life with you.”

  301 stood rooted in place, hands tight around Novus Vita as he considered what to do. What he knew of Systemic law told him to kill her now. He could explain the entire matter to the MWR, who would no doubt approve of the action given the circumstances, after which there would likely be consequences for the slavers who sold her. There was only one order concerning rebels: to kill without warning. Those who failed to do so often joined them in their fate.

  But his heart cried out for her, a plea to show mercy. The emotions that overtook him in the palace courtyard—could he really destroy the person who brought those out in him? Perhaps it would be better…she might become a distraction, or a source of weakness. Or, he thought. It might also become the most powerful and rewarding experience I have ever known.

  He slid his thumb back across the small pad on the hilt, and the blade retreated back within the blue casing. He was a warrior, it was true…but not a murderer. “Very well. Then tell me who you are. Is your name really Grace?”

  She rose slowly to her feet, hands still out to show she meant no harm, and answered, “Yes. My name is Grace. I am—was—a member of the Silent Thunder rebellion, among whom I have lived since I was born.”

  “And this,” 301 indicated the Gladius. “You’ve known how to use it since you were sixteen?”

  “Earlier, actually,” she nodded. “My father has been training me since I was a child. That might sound strange, but he knew that I would be at a great disadvantage if I couldn’t defend myself, woman or not. Sixteen is the age when my official training started. I was a bit ahead of the game.”

  “I’d imagine so,” 301 motioned to the chairs in the sitting area, and the two walked over and sat across from one another, “The early age isn’t surprising, either. In the World System soldiers begin their training at the age of ten—even the women.”

  “There are women in the Great Army?”

  “Not many,” 301 smiled, beginning to loosen up again. “But yes. All admittance to the Great Army is based on Systemics, regardless of gender. Soldiers are chosen based on their OPE scores.”

  “OPE?”

  “The Operations Potential Exam,” 301 explained. “It’s like a combined aptitude and skills test that all children in the World System take at the age of ten. The results determine our position in society and our occupation.”

  “So the government dictates your life for you.”

  “It is the first of its kind,” 301 said. “A Systemic Empire, where economics, politics, and even individual lives are ordered according to the projected needs assessed by data collected in the central computers.”

  “So every person, man and woman, young and old, is a cog in one massive machine.”

  “You could look at it that way, perhaps,” he said. “Or, you could say that the OPE helps people find their perfect place in society, putting an end to needless things like unattained dreams, frustrated failings, and inept leadership.”

  “What about the MWR, then? And the Ruling Council? Are they subject to Systemics?”

  “Wow, you really don’t know much about the World System, do you?”

  “I guess not, no,” Grace admitted. “Is that such a bad thing?”

  “Maybe,” 301 replied. “As a Silent Thunder operative I’m sure the only subject you ever thought about concerning the government was the possibility that it would fall. But if you don’t know much about it, how do you know you want it to fall?”

  “I know enough,” she answered. “The MWR and his soldiers continually hunt down and murder my people, showing no mercy to man woman or child. I’ve seen enough death to last ten lifetimes, all wrought at the hands of those following the will of the MWR. How can you serve such a man?”

  “Because service is what my government requires of me,” 301 said. “Your rebels, they murder too, you know. Just the other night a team of your people ambushed my men and I on a routine mission and overwhelmed us. They need not have killed them all—perhaps none, considering their skill and our unpreparedness—yet they did so anyway, to send the MWR a message. So before you go getting all righteous about your war against the evil World System, you might consider that those men were just that: men following orders and trying to support their families, no different than anyone else.”

  Grace hesitated for a moment, then ventured her challenge, “What were their names?”

  301 glared at her, “Excuse me?”

  “Simple question,” she said. “What were the names of these men
you cared so much about? Were they married? Did they have children?”

  “I…” 301 shook his head, anger mounting at how she had backed him so easily into a corner. But then he realized he had only himself to blame. “I don’t know. I never knew their names. And yes, to skip to your next point…I suppose I didn’t care. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I can even remember their faces.” He sat back in the chair, embarrassed by his own honesty. “I suppose that makes me every bit as bad as you imagined System soldiers to be.”

  Grace stared at him curiously. He had just allowed her a deeper glimpse into his heart than she had ever anticipated a System soldier could. “Actually, you’re not what I expected at all. I thought all soldiers in the System were crude and uncaring. But when I look in your eyes, there is a kindness there…rare even in my own people. You are more than what you appear, 301-14-A.”

  “Then tell me,” he leaned forward and said with a smile. “What else do you see?”

  Her expression darkened, “I see a man at war with himself. Kindness, compassion, honor—those are the qualities of the man you want to be. But the person you display to the world is arrogant, selfish, and blinded by ambition. Success in your world is defined by power, and all who get in your way must be eliminated. The World System would forge you into a machine of death, but your humanity is still evident in moments like these when you show kindness to a slave who has no right to it at all. You are a man whose heart has almost been turned to stone. But not quite…not yet.”

  301 held her gaze for a long time, seemingly lost in that ocean of green and blue. How strange that he could sense more freedom in the presence of a slave than he had in his entire life. He looked away, uncomfortable with the feelings she aroused in him. Guilt, longing, remorse—those were for weaker men, not great warriors. Not Specter Captains.

  “But to answer your earlier question,” he sat back and smiled as though nothing had passed between them. “The MWR and the Ruling Council are exempt from Systemics, because they are the founders. Each of them has the right to choose a successor who will take their seat upon their deaths, though they have the discretion to waive that right if they so choose. If that is the case, the formulas for selecting their heirs by Systemics do exist.”

  “How evolved,” Grace said sarcastically. “So man’s destiny is to be chosen by formulas, test scores, and data patterns. Why let humans rule at all, then? Give power to your central computer, if you believe it to be so wise.”

  “The central computer doesn’t provide wisdom,” 301 clarified. “Just objectivity. It alone in the world can choose a ruler free of obligation, ambition, or greed. But beyond that, it has no function.” He looked down at the Gladius, which he still held tightly in his hand. “So. Novus Vita. Who chose that?”

  “I did,” she replied. “It means new life. I received my Gladius when I turned sixteen, and I was looking to become more than just the little girl in my father’s shadow. I wanted to make a difference—to change the world.”

  “How were you planning to do that?”

  She hesitated, “Still working on it.”

  “Well I suppose it’s still appropriate,” he said. “You’ve left an old life behind, and now begin a new one…with me. So what’s to become of you?”

  “You tell me.”

  “You were captured with a significant amount of Solithium in your possession,” 301 said. “The vials are weapons-grade, for use in Spectral Gladii. Enough to last one person several months…or twenty for a few limited engagements. Care to elaborate?”

  Grace sighed, “I was taken while on assignment in the Central Square, just after receiving a Solithium drop from a member of the benefactor network. There was a surprise sweep, and I—”

  301 sat up straight in his chair and cut across her, as though he had just struck gold, “You were in contact with a member of the network? Who?”

  “We don’t know their names,” she replied. “They contact us, give us the instructions for the drop, and then the drop is made. We never see or speak to anyone…somewhat frustrating really, being as they’re the only thing keeping the rebellion from being wiped out.”

  “Then where is your base?” 301 pressed. “How do they contact you?”

  “I could tell you where they were last,” Grace said with a frown. “But it wouldn’t do you much good. Silent Thunder operatives are nomads, roaming constantly from place to place to avoid capture. They will be long gone from there by now.”

  “Your father would leave you behind so easily?”

  She looked away uncomfortably, “By now he knows that something went wrong at the drop, and waiting for me would do no good. But he will continue to look for me, of that I have no doubt.”

  “Does he have the resources to find you?”

  “That depends,” she smiled. “How corruptible are the men in this palace, or those that have seen me since my capture? My father’s men can be quite…persuasive. I daresay he will track me here soon enough. But whether he will be able to do anything about it is a different story.”

  “Your people stand a better chance of bringing the World System to its knees than of infiltrating the palace to rescue you. No offense.”

  “I’m not in need of rescuing,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

  “In your old life, perhaps,” he said. “But now, you will need me.”

  “Does that mean you’re not going to turn me in?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he said.

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “God,” 301 said, noting how strange the word felt on his lips. “You swore to serve me, ‘before God.’ Interesting choice of words for someone begging clemency. Spoken to any other within these walls, they would surely have brought you death.”

  “So why didn’t they bring death from you?” she asked. “Is it that you’re curious? Interested to know what makes your enemies tick?”

  301 couldn’t deny it, though his interest lay in more than just understanding an enemy. He wanted to understand her…to find out what made her so strong. Here she was, after losing everything and being stripped of all she knew, as calm and confident as he—more so, perhaps. What beliefs lay within that fathomless ocean in her eyes? What new worlds might she show him?

  “Alright then, Grace,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal. I will spare you from a rebel’s death. But in return, you must teach me everything you know about Spectral combat: the moves, the techniques, and preferably secrets that few others know.”

  “You have trainers for that,” she balked. “Why do you need me?”

  “Because when it comes right down to it, no one in the World System has trained with a Gladius in over fifteen years,” he replied. “Based on what I saw in my most recent encounter with the rebels, I’d say the same is not true of them. Plus, there will be nine others training with me, and I think I might benefit more in a one-on-one scenario.”

  Grace smiled, “You know this will require you to trust me.”

  Her eyes landed on her Gladius, and he realized what she meant. With only one actual weapon, there would undoubtedly be moments when she would hold the blade and he would be unarmed. The only question, then, was whether he believed her claim to serve faithfully—if he was wrong she could kill him and take her chances at escape.

  301’s brow tightened with suspicion, “What assurances do I have that I can trust you?”

  “Why don’t you find out?” she held out her hand for the Gladius, and he instinctively recoiled. Grace laughed, “The only way for you to set your mind at ease is to take a chance on me, 301. I promise I won’t try anything, but you have to believe in that promise. If you want to make progress, you have to take a step.”

  Several seconds passed with them frozen in place: she with her hand out for the Gladius and he holding the blade called Novus Vita tightly in his right hand, frustrated with indecision. Had he been a simple observer in the room he would certainly have known what to
do. This woman, who had openly declared herself an enemy of the World System, was a villain. Only a fool would restore her power and give her the chance to reclaim her life.

  But something inside him wanted to trust her. Despite her former life, he believed her, and he wanted—needed, perhaps—to learn everything she could possibly teach him. Just as fate had saved him the previous day in the Hall of Mirrors, perhaps fate had also brought her to him. For what purpose, only time would tell.

  301 held out Novus Vita and let it fall into Grace’s open hand. Her fingers closed around it and she breathed a long sigh. “We’ve spoken a great deal about the World System, Silent Thunder, and me. But you haven’t told me anything about yourself…such as why no one here calls you by name.”

  “Because I have no name,” 301 replied simply. “I was raised in the Capital Orphanage not far from here, and have no memories from my early childhood. My parents, whoever they were, didn’t even leave a name for me. So rather than create a pseudonym like so many others in that situation do, the matron called me by my Systemic designation. When the choice became mine, I followed suit.”

  “And automatically put a wall of formality up between you and anyone you might possibly meet,” she frowned. “Or was that not your intention?”

  301 didn’t know how to answer. She was right, of course. For as long as he could remember, he had been afraid to get close to anyone. Even his relationship with Liz, exciting though it was, had been more about convenience than emotion.

  “If I had to guess,” Grace ventured on. “I’d say your soul had been wounded at one time or another. But I wonder if you would even see it that way now.”

  Her words probed him, an obvious attempt to reach beneath his skin and unveil whatever secrets he kept locked deep within. But he was used to such tactics, and despite knowing she meant well he would not allow her to undermine the emotional barriers that had kept him safe from heartbreak and disappointment all his life.

  “You sure do have a lot of opinions about me,” he said.