by Ciara Knight
I swiped my nose, cleaning off the errant dribble with the back of my hand. “It sounds beautiful, like a fairy tale. A life before the war, full of shopping and parties. It seems frivolous and unimportant and yet, perfect.”
Fallon smiled in agreement. “Hopefully someday, we’ll return to that way of life. I only pray the world’s learned its lesson this time.”
Ryder’s eyes flickered open. Fallon helped him raise his head as I lifted the small cup of rationed water from the floor and brought it to his lips. Gulping it down, he drained the cup in seconds, then eased back onto his thin pillow and flashed me a weak grin. “Hi, beautiful. Still going to marry me?”
Tears streaked down my face. Those might have been words I originally used to keep him alive, but now I wanted to listen to my heart and take him as my husband more than winning the war. “Yes. With all my heart, yes.”
“Good,” he whispered.
Michaelson approached us, a fierce look on his face and saluted Fallon. “We have the emperor, General, and the council wants a meeting.”
“Go on, Fallon, I won’t leave Ryder. We’ll all be ready to leave for the Arc by the time you get back.”
Fallon stepped over a young girl with a bandage wrapped around her head and followed Michaelson out of the room.
I settled back next to Ryder before a voice came over a loud speaker, “Medications and supplies have arrived. Secure facilities have been found. Get your patients ready for transport.”
Two men rolled several barrels in through the main doors, stood them upright, and removed the lids. Lines formed and pitchers were filled with fresh water for the patients. I shot upright, snatched his cup and a pitcher, and raced to the barrels.
As I returned to his bed, a girl younger than me—a newly recruited nurse-in-training from the looks of her—inserted a needle in a vein on the back of his hand, attached a bag of fluid, and rested it on a rolled up towel, creating a downward flow. Then she swiped a small cloth over Ryder’s bicep and injected him with something. “He’ll rest peacefully now.”
“Thank you.” Sitting on Ryder’s left side, I slid my arm under his head and lifted it to the cup. “Drink this.” Without a word, he drank then collapsed back onto the bed.
Two men approached Lieutenant Briggs’s bedside with a gurney. I brushed past one and stood beside Penton. “Where are you taking her?” A part of me felt responsible for her after I told her young son I’d keep her safe. My heart shattered at the thought of one more child growing up without parents.
“We’ve been asked to clear the room. All stable patients will be moved to the west wing of the council building. Critical will remain here. Operations are being transferred to the fire containment area.”
Fallon entered the triage room and strode to our side. “The man in that bed, Corporal Ryder Arteres, and Lieutenant Briggs here are to be transferred into the same room. Understood?”
“Yes, General.”
“Semara and Penton, you’re to remain by their side. Don’t leave them alone for a minute. When one sleeps, the other stands guard.”
“Understood,” I said. I didn’t, but now wasn’t the time to question.
“For now, Semara, you’re on duty. Penton, once they’re settled, you’re to report with me to the council chambers on the second floor of this building. It’s been badly bombed, but it’s been declared structurally safe.”
Penton walked beside Briggs as the men lifted her to the gurney and moved out of sight. A short time later, the two men returned and fisted Ryder’s bedding around him then attempted to lift him. From their bulging muscles and reddening faces and Ryder not moving an inch, I knew they’d need help. I also knew not to suggest it, so I let them exhaust themselves. When they almost collapsed on top of Ryder, I cleared my throat and they finally summoned help.
It took four young, sturdy men to move him onto the gurney. I followed the four as they rolled him through several halls to his new location. The squeaking wheels sent chills through my body. Memories of my gurney ride to have my heart replaced with a mechanical one after betraying Mandesa flashed through my mind. Memories I knew to be true.
That was the night my life changed. Ryder had saved me from a total Slag conversion, a fate worse than death. Now, it was my turn to watch over him. This man who never needed help, who could heal himself and others, lay unconscious on the bed in some remote area of a bombed out building.
With my limbs heavy with exhaustion and sore feet, I shuffled after him, one long corridor after another, until I thought I’d collapse. Thankfully, we made only two more turns before we entered what had been a large office in a former life. Now, it was a semi-private room, and I eyed the couch along the far wall with longing. Between the cessation of stress and surging adrenalin, I knew I was crashing. All I wanted to do was crawl onto that sofa and sleep, but I couldn’t. Penton would be at the council meeting, so I had watch duty.
Penton brushed the hair off Briggs’s forehead. “I’ll lock the door. Only open it if you hear two knocks then count to three and one knock. Even if I tell you to open it, don’t unless you get the signal.”
“Why are we being locked in? Are the emperor’s men scattered throughout the city?”
“Yes, but that isn’t the problem. There’s a traitor in the city. We don’t know who it is, so stay locked in that room. Ryder and Briggs are stable. If they take a turn, let me know. Either Fallon or I will bring medical personnel.” He handed me a mini com-link. “Got it?”
“Yes. But won’t they hear me if I use this?”
“No. Michaelson, Fallon, and I each have one—the only ones. These four are coded to one another. This is serious, Semara. The last words in the communication intercepted to Mandesa was that the traitor was willing to die for the cause.”
Chapter Eight
Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock
The repeated raps on the door jerked me awake. Early morning rays peeked through the boarded up window of the office. Damn. I was supposed to be on watch.
I opened the door to a rumpled and scruffy Fallon, and jumped into his arms, holding tight for a moment. “You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. How’re our boy and Briggs doing?”
I slid from his embrace then shut and locked the door after he, Penton and Michaelson entered.
“Fine. I sat by Ryder’s side all night. Lieutenant Briggs woke once and called out for her son, Laos. I assured her he was safe back at the Arc and she’s slept soundly since.”
He cupped my cheek. “You and Raeth amaze me. If I’d had daughters, I’d want them to be just like you two.
“You never married?”
“No.” His far off gaze and frown spoke volumes of a past love, but now wasn’t the time to wrangle the full story out of him.
He slumped on the couch next to Penton. “Raeth’s got a smart man.”
“She knows,” I said, watching color flood Penton’s cheeks.
“Michaelson’s taking over. We need to go, Semara.”
I laid the back of my hand against Ryder’s forehead then checked behind his ears. No fever. I wouldn’t truly relax until we were safely back at the Arc and he woke and called me beautiful in his deep voice. I kissed his brow, longing for a real kiss, the kind where I had to worry about melting an entire ship. “I’ll be back soon.”
Squeezing Lieutenant Briggs’s hand, I mumbled, “We’ll get you back to your son soon.”
I retrieved my weapons from the armrest of the couch, and tucked them back into their holsters. “Let’s go.”
At the door, I glanced back at them. Our wounded warriors were stable and resting comfortably. So, why did the hair on the back of my neck stand up in warning?
We waited until we heard Michaelson flip the three locks before starting down the long hall. Fallon stopped, checked out the corridor, then turned and faced Penton and me. In barely a whisper, he said, “Neither of you can react to anything I say in the council. Don’t show surprise. Remember, we have a traitor who may
be part of the council. Consider this an exercise in disinformation.”
At our silent agreement, he smiled and we continued forward until we reached a blast door. An armed guard from one of Michaelson’s teams opened the door, moved to the side, waved us into a room, and closed it after us.
Councilor Ridgecroft bowed his head when I entered and I returned the sentiment.
The room was full of people I’d never met, some I’d just met for the first time over the last day, and some familiar faces. My heart soared at seeing Dred standing off in the corner. He smiled and started toward me. As he neared, I saw the large, battlefield dressing on his shoulder that not even his dreadlocks could hide. “Good to see you, pretty face.
I wanted to fall into his arms and tell him how good it was to see him, but now wasn’t the time. Instead, I smiled and nodded.
Ridgecroft gestured for the three of us to join the others. “It is good to see you alive. You’ve saved us twice now. We are forever in the Triune’s debt.” Ridgecroft held out a hand, directing me to one of twelve chairs arranged in a circle.
While it had been less than forty-eight hours, it felt like a year had passed since we’d freed the frail man from his cell where Mandesa’s general had imprisoned him. A lot had happened in those hours. In fact, only moments after we’d released them, all hell rained down on the ENR, forcing us to abandon Ryder and Briggs.
“What’s going on? Why are we here?” I asked.
Ridgecroft pulled the front panels of his damaged robe around his chest, motioned us into our chairs—Penton and Fallon flanking me—then sat. “We believe we’ve delivered a severe blow to Queen Valderak. She’s called her battle cruiser back to Acadia and our inside sources say she’s adopted a defensive position, not an offensive one. Her council is meeting to discuss strategies as we speak. For the present, power is distributed between several populations.”
As Ridgecroft addressed the room, I spied a metal shoulder plate and mechanical eye on a man seated on the far side, though. I knew the council member was Neumarian. Apparently Raeth wasn’t the only Neumarian to survive implants as we’d originally thought.
The council woman beside him was human, and both had been imprisoned in the Tower for two years. I assumed the others varied between Kantian, human and Neumarian.
“Penton and I are now part of the council?” I asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed in a room full of seasoned warriors and governmental leaders.
A woman with a long auburn braid smiled and her hair changed to blond while her cheeks sunk in and her lips filled out. “Yes, along with Raeth and Ryder Arteres, who aren’t here. We believe young warriors should be represented on the council, so you four will be granted one collective vote. Fallon, however, is a member in his own right and the general’s representative, so for this meeting, he has two votes. We are hoping to restore balance to the planet. As you can see, we have many populations represented here.”
“Ya not be the only new member.” Dred beamed, and I stifled a laugh at the sight of this scavenger, feared by all civilization as the beast in the wasteland who would slit your throat and take your gold, now sitting in a council chamber grinning with pride.
My gaze locked on the woman as she altered her appearance, again.
She winked. “That’s my gift, child. My names Camilia. No one knows my true identity.” Her eyelashes grew long and lush, changing color from black to blue with diamond shimmers at the tips.
I smiled and scanned the table, taking in the variety of Neumarian gifts. My head spun with possibilities. How many different gifts existed?
I glanced to my right. Fallon had leaned back in his chair. With his steepled fingers resting against his chin, he looked as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. But I knew different. He, like the rest of us from the Arc, was concerned about a traitor in our midst. Apprehension would breakdown the trust necessary to fight and win this war.
“We were lucky Mandesa’s battle cruiser didn’t arrive in time.” The man with the metal shoulder plate drew my attention back to the rest of the room
Fallon moved forward, his hands flat on the table. “That would have been devastating. Thanks to Penton, total annihilation was averted.”
Penton’s face flamed, but when Dred said, “Ye be a smart lad, even if ye are a little puny,” his face looked on fire.
“What happened to the emperor? Did he survive the crash?” A man’s voice echoed in the room without moving his lips.
“Yes, he’s alive, for now,” Fallon said.
“Where is he?” Ridgecroft asked.
“In a secure location,” Fallon said. “But we have bigger problems than the emperor. It’ll be six months, maybe a year before we’re ready to fully engage Mandesa’s military in anything but skirmishes due to the damage to our ships. It’s going to take time to repair or replace them and stockpile more weapons. For now, we’ll continue with the hit and run policy, and place an embargo on trade with Mandesa. We’ll weaken her by choking off her resources. It’ll take months before she’s desperate enough to come at us in force.”
“What if she attacks before we’re ready?” someone shouted.
“We fight,” I answered without hesitation.
The room fell silent for a moment then one of the human councilors said, “Since our military won’t be ready before the queen attacks, it’s time we catalogued all Neumarians and their gifts.”
An older woman wrung her hands in her lap. “We need to be cautious about this. You remember what happened last time we did a census.”
“Goldwin, this isn’t the same thing.” A tall thin man swung around and faced her. “This isn’t the queen attempting to round up innocent Neumarians for genocide.”
“No, but if that list fell into the wrong hands…” Fallon dropped his arm to his side. “I agree with McCormick and Goldwin, that while the information is crucial, it could also lead to all out genocide for any on such a list.”
I slid to the edge of my seat. “I’m not following. What information?”
Silence stole the room, leaving each of the council members waiting for someone else to fill us in. Finally, Ridgecroft turned back to the center. “We need to discover all the available powers we can utilize to beat the queen and restore our freedom. We’re Neumarians. We need to utilize our abilities to protect and save all those who oppose the queen’s tyrannical rule.”
A barrel-bellied man I hadn’t seen before scoffed. “Not all of us have gifts. Are you trying to swing power into your favor and leave humans to be slaves?”
Dred sat forward, fists on the table, and the man flinched. “Don’t think they’re aimin’ to take over. Wouldn’t be here if they were.”
Ridgecroft held his hands up in front of him, gesturing for peace. “Of course not, there needs to be balance.”
“Neumarians won’t agree to a list,” Fallon said in a low, soft voice. “This whole war started when Mandesa used a fictitious list to execute hundreds of millions of innocent people.”
“I agree,” Goldwin said. “It was the worst massacre in Earth’s history, worse than World War II back in the mid Twentieth Century. The ones not executed were enslaved.”
“Imagine if they had a real list,” Camilia said.
After fifteen minutes of back and forth discussion, my exhausted mind drifted. Worry over Ryder and Briggs and our predicament consumed me. Mandesa had to know we were here, and she couldn’t afford for us to escape her grasp. She wanted—no needed to control the Triune, and would act through the traitor, and I knew in my bones time was short. We had to leave, and immediately, if we wanted to stay free and alive.
Tired of the debate and waiting for Fallon to take action, I leaned forward, my entwined fingers resting on the table. “I suggest the council members create cells. Cell leaders report back to their recruiter. That way no one knows anyone other than who recruited them. Each cell leader will seek five Neumarians and discover their gifts and those five will seek out five more, and so on. The individua
l cell leaders will know the five they talked to, plus the person who contacted them. This way, if an individual cell leader is captured, we’ll only lose the leader and the five under him. All communication will be done by dead drop. If someone is exposed, there should be a notification system to scatter that doesn’t involve meeting one another. I suggest discussing this with those who handle espionage and have them set up the system. Be sure to include a triggering code or alert to activate them.”
Goldwin tapped her lips with her pointer finger. “It just might work.”
Ridgecroft stood up and slapped Fallon on the back. “Tell the general his daughter definitely has the strategic mind of her father.”
Fallon’s lips quirked up on the side and he nodded. “Yes, she does.”
This time, I couldn’t stop the ear-to-ear grin and had to lower my head to avoid the entire room from seeing my pleasure.
“About the weapons.” Penton shifted in his seat. “I’ve been working on something.”
“More than what you just utilized?” McCormick motioned at the window on the far side of the room.
“Yes, it’s a weapon of peace. It won’t harm anyone, yet it’ll give us a strategic advantage.”
“Son, this is war,” the large bellied man said. “Weapons are destructive by nature. While your device out there saved thousands, it also killed hundreds when their ships crashed.”
“I must agree. Weapons meant to cause harm. Ye won’t be changing that no time soon,” Dread said.
“This one’s different. It doesn’t cause ships to come down, it causes people to.”
Frowning, Fallon glared at him. “What do you mean?”
Penton swallowed hard. I suspected he knew neither Fallon nor Father wanted him discussing his inventions, especially those they didn’t know about yet, but it was too late now, and hearing Penton’s exhale, he knew it, too.
“I’ve been working on this for ages. Until recently, I couldn’t distribute it to a sufficiently large population for it to matter.” He glanced at Fallon and me. “Remember the darts that we used to rescue the council?”