by J. L. Lyon
“Yes,” she nodded. “I’m sure.”
“Odd,” Jacob went on. “That night he seemed arrogant, callous, and cruel. So much that I felt little remorse in leaving him to the fate he chose. The man you speak of sounds full of compassion, caring, even selfless. How do you reconcile that?”
“By realizing a man may not be quite himself when you have just slaughtered his men and left him with nothing but the expectation he will face the same fate,” she said bitterly. “I warned against that ambush from the start.”
“I didn’t know he would be the one in command of that squad,” Jacob insisted. “But when I recognized him I gave him his chance…he just didn’t take it. So we went ahead with our plan to send Napoleon Alexander a message.”
“An action that has so far brought grave consequences.”
“He survived, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but now the Ruling Council has revived Specter, depriving us of our greatest advantage in this war.”
“There are still far more of us than there are of them,” Jacob smiled. “And it had the effect I intended. Since the ambush we have been contacted by several commanders who have agreed to rejoin the main group for a campaign here in Alexandria. They are tired of living in the Wilderness and want to take a stand to restore our country.”
Grace was skeptical, “And how many men are prepared to engage in this campaign?”
“By the end of the month all told, we will have a strength of seven hundred warriors.”
Grace’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “Seven hundred? Spectral-adepts?”
“To the last one. Many of the commanders have already arrived and are overseeing the relocation of their forces safely into the city. It will take a while, but it was actually made possible by one of your ideas.”
Grace took a look at their surroundings and the answer to her next question was apparent, “The underground web.”
“Yes,” Jacob said proudly. “We can move with relative freedom through the city using these tunnels, provided we do not stumble into a fortified zone and give away our secret. I have men working around the clock mapping out the tunnels that are safe to use, as well as the quickest paths from each commander’s base of operations to the primary command center, where our team is set up. We are also trying to establish landline communication between the command center and the operations bases so the government’s surveillance teams can’t detect us.”
“But don’t landlines run the risk of compromising the entire web?” Grace asked. “If only one operations base is discovered it will lead the Great Army to the command center and all the other bases.”
“It has been some time since any landline communication was put to use,” Jacob replied. “In all likelihood a Great Army soldier would not think to search for it. But, just in case, there is a contingency…a self-destruct, if you will. The wiring for our landlines is made of special material that will disintegrate if a signal passes through at a specific frequency. If a base is compromised, that signal can be sent from either the base or the command center, after which the landline will be destroyed—leaving virtually no trace.”
“Virtually?”
Jacob laughed, “Come on, Grace. It is a risk, yes, but a necessary one. We cannot allow the government to intercept our communications over open or even encrypted airwave channels. To do so would compromise the entire operation. Yet we still need a means of swift communication. This is our only option.”
Grace nodded, “It is a good plan, so long as the commanders relocating here can be trusted. I assume you’re flooding the airwaves with chatter to distract the Great Army?”
“We are,” Jacob confirmed. “And allowing the government to intercept those transmissions is a vital part of our first major offensive.”
“Then you’ve chosen a target.”
“Three, actually,” Jacob said. “All of which we plan to hit within a one week window. They are high-priority targets, capable of weakening Alexandria’s infrastructure so we can take out more vital centers in the weeks to come. If all goes well, we could stage a raid of the palace within a couple of months.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?” Grace asked hopefully.
“I know it is,” he replied. “And if the palace falls, the people will rise up and do the rest. Then we will spread our victory from here to the Pacific Ocean, and restore our nation to its former status.”
Grace paused for a moment, thinking of the implications if what her father predicted actually came true. No more hiding in the Wilderness, scrounging for whatever food and shelter they could find. No more fear of that dreaded march in the night. The land would be returned to that elusive power she had always heard about, but had never known: the rule of law; of justice; of peace.
They would be free.
But what of 301, and others like him? Though they enforced the System, weren’t they just as enslaved by it as the people walking the streets above? She knew better than to hope for such an opinion. Once the people restored themselves to power they would need scapegoats, and what better place to find them than in the ranks of their former overlords? As a Specter and a member of the hierarchy, 301 might as well have a target on his back—assuming he survived the coming conflict. The only way to exonerate him would be if he joined them before the war ended, and Crenshaw’s plan seemed the only practical way to do that.
She looked ahead of them to where the general walked alone, a few paces behind the other two operatives, suddenly realizing how little she knew about him. The younger men spoke of him with awe because of his deeds fighting alongside her father in the previous two wars, but some argument had caused the two of them to go their separate ways. She could remember bits and pieces of him from her childhood, and she felt affection in those memories, almost as she might have for an uncle. But fifteen years was a long time…he could very well have become a different man, with motives contrary to hers.
Grace turned back to her father and asked quietly, “Do you trust him?”
“Crenshaw?” Jacob asked, his voice just as low. She nodded, and he went on, “Despite our differences, there’s not a man on this entire planet I’d rather have fighting by my side in the coming conflict. If there’s anyone who wants to see the downfall of the World System more than me, it’s him.”
“Then why did you go your separate ways?” She asked. “And why the cold welcome for him back there?”
Jacob sighed, “I suppose when two people believe in something so strongly but disagree with equal strength as to how they might attain their goal, pride can creep in and make them do things they never believed they were capable of before. In all our years apart, that is the best answer I’ve been able to come up with.” He paused and went on even more quietly. “But you will not find a better man or a more loyal friend anywhere in the world, no matter how long and hard you look. Rarely a day has gone by these last fifteen years that I didn’t wish to go back and undo what happened. Just don’t tell him I said that,” he finished with a wink.
The two operatives stopped in the middle of the tunnel and Davian—the man who had led Grace into the sewers from the city streets—announced, “Commander. We’re here.”
Grace fought the urge to say “about time.” She felt as though they had walked the entire span of Alexandria. As she and her father caught up to the other three, she noticed a ladder leading back up to the surface. She squinted in the darkness to catch a glimpse of the top, but it was too far way in the low light.
“Lieutenant Commander,” Jacob said. “Lead the way.”
Grace took a step toward the ladder, but Davian beat her to it. She had only just opened her mouth to lash out at him for the slight when she saw his rank stripes. He was the lieutenant commander now? She faced her father as Davian climbed, “You replaced me?”
“We thought you were dead,” Jacob explained. “And I couldn’t go on without a second-in-command for long, especially not with what’s coming. Davia
n was the most qualified to fill your position.”
“But I’m not dead,” she whispered harshly. “So where does that leave me now?”
“I don’t know, Grace,” he replied with affection. “I’m still trying to process the fact that you are alive, standing here talking to me. But six weeks of strategic planning is a lot to catch up on. Davian knows all the players and all the details of each mission. To remove him now would be irresponsible.”
A loud echoing clang made her jump, and she looked up to see light streaming down into the underground—not sunlight as she had expected, but artificial light. Davian called down, “We’re clear, sir.”
“Very good. Lieutenant Michaels,” Jacob addressed the other operative. “If you would, return to the entry point and tell the others we have arrived safely.”
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant nodded and broke into a jog back the way they had come.
“I should probably go up before either of you,” Jacob said, “seeing as the arrival of only one of you would cause a scene. But both…well, I suppose we’d better get it over with.”
Jacob climbed the ladder, and when he had gone halfway up Grace followed, leaving Crenshaw to bring up the rear. Her father reached the surface a good twenty seconds before her, and she heard a jumble of voices speaking, though she couldn’t make out any words.
She didn’t know what she expected, but as she reached the surface and her father helped her up to the solid floor, a wave of applause broke out and overwhelmed her with surprise. Her eyes scanned the room, and she saw her father’s men rejoicing in her return with happiness and pride. Some even had tears in their eyes. Others soon came in to investigate the commotion, and shouts of “Welcome back!” were interspersed with celebratory whistles and even more applause.
And then, in an instant, the room went silent. Many froze mid-clap, while others stared behind Grace in open-mouthed astonishment. Grace turned back to see that Crenshaw had emerged from below, and was now looking around the room with a stern but gratified expression—the sudden change left no doubt that a majority of those in the room knew who he was. But how they would react to his return, Grace couldn’t guess.
Their astonishment ended, the officers in the room snapped to attention, saluting General Crenshaw with utmost respect and admiration. He returned their salute and spoke, “Thank you, gentlemen. At ease.”
The officers relaxed, and Jacob flashed a knowing grin, “I’m sure you all have questions. However, I would ask that you wait to pose them at a later time. Our friends have been through quite an ordeal to make their way to us, and they need their rest. Davian,” he said quietly. “Secure the hatch.”
Grace watched as Davian pushed down the silver dome, concealing the entrance to the command center from the tunnels below. From what she could tell, the entrance to the underground had been recently constructed. She didn’t even want to think about the manpower it must have taken to break through all the soil and concrete to create the entrance. “Looks like any normal manhole cover from below,” Davian explained to her. “But unless you know the secret, there’s no way you can push it up.”
She nodded, her eyes shifting briefly to his rank stripes—her rank stripes.
At Jacob’s bidding the small crowd dispersed back to the various rooms in the command center, though most didn’t go without a last look at Grace—two at Crenshaw. They watched him as though he were a legend come to life.
Her father led them into a small sitting area where they could speak in private, “So what do you think?”
“It’s impressive,” she said, surveying the walls and ceiling. “But enormous. Our entire group could live in this place with room to spare. How are you avoiding detection?”
“A gift from one of the nobles,” Jacob answered. “As far as the World System knows, this is a privately owned property that they one day hope to tear down for a weapons plant or some other thing they really don’t need. But for now it serves our cause, sheltering us and giving us a place from which to conduct our operations. We don’t come and go by the front doors, we must be careful about noise and light when it is dark—but other than that, it is the perfect outpost.”
“So…where are we, exactly?” Grace asked. “When you found us we were in the southwest corner of the city, but we must have traveled miles down there.”
“Yes,” Jacob nodded, moving toward a nearby window. He drew aside the tattered old curtains, “See for yourself.”
Grace looked out the window, and her mouth dropped open. There, dominating the skyline with its enormous buildings and a single gray column that rose up to dwarf them all, was Napoleon Alexander’s palace. It was not two miles away. “We’re in central Alexandria,” she said breathlessly.
“South-central, to be exact,” Jacob clarified. “Under Alexander’s very nose.”
Crenshaw joined Grace at the window, looking down upon the city without surprise. From that she surmised that the Right Hand probably told him all about this place. Crenshaw might even have known about it before her father. “Excellent position,” he commented. “You can even see the Central Square from here.” He pointed to the east-central section of the city, and Grace felt nauseous. The Central Square: where she had been tagged as an Undocumented by slavers. In the events that followed—in falling for 301 and realizing the purpose of her enslavement—she had nearly forgotten the horror of those first few hours. Laying helpless in the street knowing she was about to be taken, awakening in the pitch dark of a cold cell, being sold to the Grand Admiral like a piece of furniture, and then walking before all those men in the courtyard…she remembered the things they shouted at her and shuddered.
“Grace?” Jacob asked, noticing her sudden discomfort. “Are you alright?”
“Of course.” She turned from the window, blocking out the visions of that day in the Central Square just as much as the sight of the palace, which made her long for 301. “I’m fine.” Then, to change the subject quickly, she went on, “But I would like to know if I still have my rank. Am I to be demoted while Davian plans this operation?”
Jacob frowned, “No one said anything about a demotion, Grace. You are still lieutenant commander and my second-in-command. With all the other commanders looking to us for leadership, it is probably wise to have two lieutenant commanders anyway.”
“Actually, Jacob,” Crenshaw said, “I was rather hoping that Grace might assist me with my mission here.”
“Your mission?” Jacob rounded on him. “What mission?”
“To complete the recruitment of 301-14-A.”
Grace’s eyes widened, surprised by the general’s forthrightness. But then again, he hadn’t asked her not to tell her father about 301. He just asked her to keep quiet about one specific thing—one crucial thing.
“Crenshaw, Grace has been through enough with this man as it is. How can you expect her to—?”
“I’ll do it,” she said, with more enthusiasm than she intended. “I’ll help him accomplish his mission. I want to.”
“Grace, no,” Jacob argued. “There’s no reason—”
“She’s the best chance—”
“I don’t care about some System soldier! This is my daughter, Crenshaw!”
“I think I’m old enough to make this decision for my—”
“Grace, please!” Jacob said, ending their attempts to talk over one another with his commanding tone. “Give Crenshaw and I a moment alone.”
“But this is not your decision!” she protested.
“Davian is waiting upstairs to show you to one of the empty rooms,” he went on calmly. “And so long as I am the commander of this unit, it is my decision. Now please, Grace, go. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
Grace knew from the way her father set his jaw that the argument was over. So with one last pleading look at Crenshaw, she turned and angrily left the sitting room to search for the stairs.
Jacob Sawyer watched his daughter go, and then gave Crens
haw his full attention. In stark contrast to his previous tone he spoke pleasantly, “It really is good to see you again, old friend. Let’s have a seat.”
Crenshaw walked over to the chairs Jacob indicated and began as he sat down, “Jacob, I know we have had our differences over the years, but I was hoping—in light of what is happening—that we might begin to move past them.”
“You abandoned us, Crenshaw,” Jacob said matter-of-factly from the chair across from him. “You left us in our hour of greatest need, and dealt a major morale blow to the entire force. How do you expect me to just forget about that?”
“I told you my reasons for going,” Crenshaw replied. “They weren’t good enough at the time, so I don’t expect they will be now. But I wanted you to stand down, to avoid further loss of life. There was an alternative to war, and it is that alternative I chose to pursue.”
“And yet here you are fifteen years later,” Jacob gave a sardonic smile. “Begging to get back in on the war you were so quick to leave behind. Could you not find what you were searching for?”
“I got close. But then someone found me and convinced me to stop searching…that to unearth what I sought could bring more pain and suffering to the world than all the wars of all time. So I stopped, and began the mission he laid before me instead.”
“The Right Hand,” Jacob nodded. “So, that must mean you are the leader of the intelligence cell. I did not see that one coming.”
“But I assume the Right Hand told you I would make contact,” Crenshaw said. “That’s why both you and Davian were waiting at the entry point.”
“He told me there would be a high ranking member of another resistance cell making contact at his request.” Jacob paused. “But he didn’t tell me it would be you.”
“I see,” Crenshaw looked away. “So when did he first contact you?”
“Two years ago. We were in the Wilderness, scavenging whatever we could to survive, when he came to me—told me who he worked for, gave convincing proof, and then laid out his plan. I was worried my men wouldn’t have the heart to return to Alexandria after all we’ve been through. Some didn’t, but luckily I was wrong about most. Turns out they would rather die giving their families a future than to have them cower in the Wilderness any longer. Your turn.”