“Fair?” I whispered.
“Scarlet?” If it was shocking for me to see her here, I could only imagine how surprised she must’ve been to see me in the white and blue of the Ichthyothian military. “You’re an Ichthyothian diver?” she breathed in Conflagrian. “TRAITOR!”
I took a step forward, hot anger welling in my eyes and scalp. What right did she have to call me a traitor when she was the one who sold me out to the System and served in their military?
“I’m fighting to liberate our people from a dictatorship!” I yelled in Conflagrian. “And, in case you forgot, the System killed my family!”
“You’re a traitor!” Fair screamed again. Then, she switched to Ichthyothian, for the benefit of the three Nurro-Ichthyothian divers watching us and the five listening just outside the door. And, she was sure to use my full name, as though to emphasize she knew me on sight: “Scarlet Carmine July, you’re a Conflagrian mage, yourself!”
Cease, Illia and Nurtic stared at us in shock. Why did Cease look so scandalized? He knew the truth already.
He stepped forward, pulled off his visual band and glowered at me with flashing eyes.
“You know this mage?” he demanded in Nurian.
“Yes, sir,” I whimpered in Ichthyothian. “She was my best friend, growing up.”
“Best friend,” he snorted. “You told me you had no ties left to your homeland!”
“Yes, but—” I began.
“You lied to me and put all of us in danger! If you’re spectrally twined to her, she could have visions of you—of our entire fleet!” Cease grabbed my collar. “That’s how our last battle plan leaked! There’s no other way they could’ve known to prepare for our strike in the Fervor Sea but through YOU!”
I could feel Nurtic and Illia’s wide eyes rake my face.
“I-I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t s-set out to l-lie—I j-just didn’t think of that p-possibility,” I stammered.
Cease threw me to the floor, yanked open the door and disappeared down the hall, leaving me with one injured, shackled Conflagrian and seven Nurro-Ichthyothian divers—five of whom heard absolutely everything through the wall. They entered the cell now, weapons drawn. Nurtic and Illia already had theirs leveled at my head.
I was surrounded.
“Scarlet,” Illia breathed, “you’re a–a mage?”
“Yes,” I admitted, helplessly.
“You passed intel to the enemy. You infiltrated our fleet—y-you became Lechatelierite’s second!” he spat the last word like it tasted sour. “We trained with you, we trusted you with our lives, and all along you’ve been helping them!”
“No!” I cried. “No! The System killed my family! I want to fight against them! I want to save my people from them!”
“Your ‘people’?” Illia yelled. “Nordics are the only ones who are supposed to be your ‘people,’ Scarlet!” He turned to his fellow divers and said, “Fire at her. Kill this Conflagrian spy!”
He did indeed have the authority to command everyone in the room except Nurtic, who was one rank above him. As if in slow motion, I saw seven white-gloved fingers reach for seven triggers. Though he had every right not to, even Nurtic obeyed, left hand trembling on his weapon. He was clearly the most troubled by this whole ordeal; he looked like he couldn’t decide whether to vomit or cry.
In a flash, I jumped up and shot my hair out in all directions, knocking their guns from their hands. They clattered to the floor.
I heard seven shots issue from the door and every unit leader dropped, unconscious. I turned and saw Cease in the doorway, holding a stun-gun. So, that’s why he left, a moment ago. He went to get a shocker because he figured the others would turn on me.
Cease recovered a real weapon from Illia’s stiff hands. He pointed it directly at Fair’s head.
“We may not have fancy truth serums, but if you don’t answer my questions, I will kill you,” Cease told her, brutally. “If you don’t believe me, just ask your commander.”
“Then kill me!” she screamed in Conflagrian. “I’d rather die than betray my country! I’m not a traitor like Scarlet!”
“Translation, Scarlet,” he ordered, eyes still on Fair.
I hesitated. I was crying inside my head, torn between my best friend and my military loyalties. I felt rejected by both sides. Seven of my trusted comrades just turned their weapons on me. And, this orange-and-green-clad soldier wasn’t my friend; the real Fair Gabardine was dead. The girl around whom my life once revolved was now just a tool of the evil System.
But, when I looked at her familiar features, I found it impossible to hate her, to want her to die. How could I tell Cease to kill a precious icon from my childhood?
“Scarlet, what did she say?” Cease demanded, authoritative voice overcoming me.
Tears streaming down my face, I translated for him. The words tumbled from my mouth unwillingly, falling between gasps and sobs.
* * *
Cease didn’t kill Fair. No, he didn’t allow her such a clean escape. The pain Cease inflicted upon her was likely far worse than any death.
For hours, he tortured her until she revealed everything she knew. He kicked her, struck her, burned her flesh with his glacier-thawing lance. He verbally abused her and played vicious mind-games with her until she committed treason. And, all the while, I stood between my commander and my ex-best friend and translated her anguished cries.
The information Cease extracted from Fair was invaluable. After the interrogation was through, Cease asked me to write a letter to the Trilateral Committee, Alliance Committee and the Ichthyothian and Nurian heads of state, relaying the highlights of what we learned and requesting permission to continue the war long enough to use this new intel against the enemy.
Though she betrayed me, my heart cried out to Fair. Cease had undoubtedly scarred her for life. It would’ve been kind of him to ‘take care’ of her after the interrogation was over. But, instead, he left her in her cell, alone. I wondered why Cease would preserve her life and if Inexor had anything to do with that.
Cease strictly forbade Inexor and me from visiting her or initiating any further communication with her, whatsoever.
“And, if either of you go behind my back and talk to her, I’ll find out, and she’ll be the one to pay the price,” he warned us, voice low and dangerous.
I didn’t believe Cease was bad, not in the way the System was bad. I knew he didn’t enjoy what he did. He wasn’t a sadist. But, I didn’t think he regretted it or was troubled by it, either. He carried on after her interrogation like everything was normal. He was just doing his job.
It was this that broke my heart the most. More than seeing my old best friend in a System Water Forces flightsuit. More than watching seven of my fellow comrades draw their weapons on me. More than seeing Fair crumble beneath Cease’s merciless blows. Nothing hurt as much as the fact that Cease was completely and utterly lost. When he comforted me after Apha’s death, I allowed myself to hope there may be a trace of humanity left in him I could somehow salvage. But, I was wrong.
Why did this matter so much to me? Cease’s icy detachment from his own brutality made him a more effective soldier. And, I wanted him to be a good soldier, because the alliance depended on it, and because he wasn’t my friend, but my military commander. So, why would I want Cease to change? Why would I want him to develop a side of his character that wasn’t obsessed with the war and didn’t think the ends always justified the means? Why would I want him to be capable of regret, guilt, sympathy, compassion or attachment? Why would I want to weaken him in such a way?
I couldn’t bring myself to admit the answer, because it ran contrary to my code of life—the code I developed when I lost almost everyone I loved, six ages ago.
* * *
Fair’s intel changed everything. We finally knew the secret behind the absolute control of the System. I couldn’t believe it.
Located at the bottom of the Conflagrian Fire Pit was a sort of magic-generator. This c
olossal ‘Core Crystal’ sustained the spectral web, and thus, the sources of each individual mage. Without the Crystal, my hair and eyes would be powerless. The further a mage got from it, the weaker his or her aura became. Yet, I was over three-thousand miles from the Crystal; why didn’t my aura feel drastically depleted? I knew I was the Multi-Source Enchant and all, but I was no less dependent on the spectral web than any other mage.
Anyway, early on in recorded Second Earth history, the Crystal was discovered by a group of mages who soon became known as the ‘System.’ The Crystal’s existence was a government secret, as the System became the keepers and regulators of its power and the overseers of the spectral web. The System managed to retain complete, unquestioned authority over the masses by manipulating the web so the thoughts of every mage stayed contained within specific boundaries. A typical mage mind thus became incapable of thinking a single rebellious thought against the System. It became a universally-accepted fact that the System was faultless. Eventually, however, the population grew too large for the System to quell absolutely and continually, and mages became able to break free from the spectral thought-control for up to seven minutes at a time. These blips were exhausting, uncomfortable and far too brief for anyone to organize or carry out an effective revolt. That’s why there had never been a revolution in Conflagrian history.
I grew up under the spectral thought-control, like everyone else. But, I was able to permanently break free when thrust into an extreme situation that strongly challenged my loyalties to the System, because I alone harnessed a degree of the Crystal’s energy that rivaled that of my oppressors. I harnessed so much spectrum, in fact, that if I were to just touch the Crystal with my flesh, it’d self-destruct. This had to have been a recent spectroscopic discovery—if the System knew that when they attempted to execute me, they wouldn’t have tried to throw me in the Pit.
Now, the real question was what to do with all this information. It seemed only too obvious to me, but I was afraid of the implications of the idea.
Evening came, and I finished typing up the letter Cease asked me to write to the Trilateral Committee, Alliance Committee and the Ichthyothian and Nurian governments. I buzzed Cease’s intercom.
“Sir, I have the completed letter, for your review.”
He opened his door, face deadpan. I handed him the pages, wordlessly. He snapped on his visual band and read it quickly.
“It’ll do,” he grunted.
I turned to go.
“I haven’t dismissed you, yet,” he snapped.
I spun on my heel. “Yes, sir?”
“I have some ideas for our next strike, should our authorities permit us to continue the war,” he said, peeling the band back off. “Come in; let’s discuss.”
My stomach twisted as I walked into his quarters. I sat stiffly at his desk, avoiding his penetrating glare and trying my best not to look at the cuts and bruises on his hands and face. Cease didn’t sit. He folded his arms.
“I believe the best course of action would be an infiltration with the destruction of the Crystal as our objective,” he began—my thoughts exactly. “Of course, that concept isn’t without serious risk. For one, there’s the possibility of divulging the war to the general Conflagrian population while their loyalties are still controlled by the System. And, there’s the question of how exactly to destroy the Crystal, as we aren’t familiar with its composition or what effect our tech could possibly have on it.”
“Sir,” I piped up, “maybe we shouldn’t use tech, then.”
There was a pause. Something in Cease’s eyes flickered.
“If you’re saying we should throw you in the Pit, Scarlet, you can forget it.”
What was I seeing on his face, now…concern? Was he concerned for my life? Well, of course he was—he was a soldier, and we were taught not to leave a man behind, if we could help it. But, no, this didn’t just look like a typical soldier’s desire to preserve the life of his comrades in battle. This looked like something deeper. Stronger. I normally avoided his stares, but now, I couldn’t look away or dare to blink. I hoped I wasn’t imagining things.
“Actually, no, sir, that’s not what I’m suggesting.”
He visibly relaxed. “Explain.”
The two of us spent the rest of the evening and a good chunk of the night developing our thoughts into a detailed, structured plan. For hours on end, I sat at Cease’s desk, drawing diagram after diagram as he supervised.
“No, if the public entrance to the Pit is here,” he said in Nurian, leaning way over my shoulder and pointing, “then our getaway ship couldn’t possibly swoop in there.” He slid his finger. “Change it to over here.”
He hovered his nearsighted face only inches above the paper as I erased and redrew the vector.
“No,” he insisted, “like this.” He put his cold hand over mine and guided the pencil.
By two o’clock, we were very close to done. I tried to stay focused, but all the arrows, lines and numbers began to swim before my eyes. My head lurched forward…
“Scarlet!” I felt a hand shake my shoulder, roughly. “Scarlet, that’s enough for tonight. You’re falling asleep on the paper!”
I snapped my face up. “I’m sorry, sir!” I blurted in Ichthyothian. I started to gather the pages into a pile, but they kept slipping.
“Just leave them and return to your quarters,” Cease said. “I’ll finish up for us. Dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said stupidly as I drifted out the door.
I dropped into my bed without bothering to remove my uniform.
* * *
Cease forwarded me an email the moment the trumpet sounded. Overnight, the Trilateral Committee accepted our proposition to delay surrender, but only gave us until the end of July to figure things out. We had three days.
Everyone except Nurtic and his three closest friends here—Arrhyth Link, Dither Maine and Tose Acci—treated me with an aura of distant coldness at breakfast, obviously not quite over the events of the previous day, despite the explanatory meeting Cease held at dawn for everyone but me (Cease thought it better if I didn’t attend). The most standoffish of them all was Inexor Buird. He didn’t even acknowledge me when I looked him in the eye and greeted him by name. He just walked right around me and got in the serving line. I felt slapped for a moment, then realized what was probably going on, here; he was jealous. After being Cease’s right hand for who knew how long, he was currently without rank. His best friend leaned on someone else, now. It made sense Inexor would be stony toward his replacement.
It was what happened right after we all got out of line that revealed there must’ve been something more serious going on between Cease and Inexor. Something far more personal than just a dispute over rank.
“Good morning, Inexor,” Cease said as he passed Inexor, seated only two places away from me.
“Don’t talk to me,” Inexor retorted to Cease’s back.
I froze in mid-bite. No one—and I mean, no one—addressed the Commander like that. Ever. Moreover, weren’t they supposed to be best friends? Best friends who were just reunited after an age of separation, during which everyone thought Inexor was dead?
Cease swiveled around, bowl of oatmeal sliding noisily across his trey. “Excuse me?” he said, low tone slicing through the hubbub of the mess hall.
“Oh, you didn’t hear me?” Inexor turned in his seat. “I said,” he raised his voice, “don’t talk to me, you—” and he proceeded to blurt a rather intense-sounding string of dirty Ichthyothian words I’d only ever heard from Amok’s mouth.
Sitting on either side of Inexor was Illia Frappe and Quiesce Tacit, who both looked like they wanted to evaporate on the spot. The last thing any of Cease’s subordinates wanted was to get mixed up in a personal dispute between the Commander and, well, anyone.
“What the hell did I do to you?” Cease growled, eyes like iron. The hand that wasn’t holding his tray was balled into a tight fist.
Inexor stared har
d at Cease for several drawn-out seconds before saying with solemn intensity: “Ask Fair.”
Oh, Tincture, what was that about?
* * *
After breakfast, Cease and I stood before the fleet and presented our findings from Fair’s interrogation along with our infiltration plan. Then, we opened the floor to input from everyone. Allowing even the greenest rookie to make suggestions was the best way to get fresh ideas. By mid-afternoon, our plan was refined and approved by all, and the divers who’d play a direct role were selected. Nurtic would be our pilot; that wasn’t exactly a tough choice. And, Arrhyth—who had been taking off-hours, private pilotry lessons from Nurtic since we got to Icicle—would come along as our backup. Arrhyth seemed quite pleased to be chosen over Nurtic’s second ‘student,’ Tose Acci, who had asked Cease earlier this month to be reassigned from unit four to two, just so he could observe Nurtic in action more closely.
Cease and I constituted the core invasion force, of course. Which meant—
“Time to learn some Conflagrian, sir,” I said, in the evening. The two of us were settling down in a small, empty seminar hall, for his first lesson. “On the island, you can’t speak a single word of Ichthyothian or Nurian, in front of anyone,” I reminded him.
Civilian mage society was male-dominant; the gatekeepers would expect Cease to be the one to request entrance to the Fire Pit. An illiterate man his age would draw a whole lot of attention.
Cease already had difficulty with Nurian, though Nurian and Ichthyothian shared the same alphabet and half the same words—the biggest difference between the two Nordic tongues was the accent. I had a hunch trying to teach Cease basic Conflagrian was going to be like trying to teach an Infrared to heal flesh with his hair.
How right I was.
Cease had absolutely no gift for language, whatsoever. It was unbelievable; the same man who was brilliant at everything else he attempted couldn’t even remember how to say, ‘hi, how are you doing, today?’ in Conflagrian. He had a hard time just echoing a simple self-introduction, let alone understanding my slow, deliberate, over-articulated sentences.
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