by Ann Bakshis
I lose control.
My body shakes violently with sobs as I bury my face, pull my knees up to my chest, and clench my teeth as I try to stem the screaming inside created by the anxiety and hatred enveloping every cell. Braxton leans forward and pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me like a cocoon.
I can’t take any more. Too many lies…too many truths. This is just too much for me to accept. Why couldn’t I have just died in the Dormitories with everyone else?
“Ahem.” I look up over Braxton’s shoulder and see Bevan standing several feet away. “Ares is looking for you, Braxton.”
“Tell her I’ll be there in a minute.”
Bevan doesn’t leave, but waits.
“Are you going to be all right?” Braxton asks, as I wipe my eyes.
“Hopefully,” I say, smiling, and feeling a little better.
He gives me a hug, stands, and heads back towards the main building. I hoist myself off the ground and walk back down the path with Bevan close behind. The main floor is still quiet, with only a few people working. I manage to catch a glimpse of what’s displayed on the monitors. Images of the Tyrean army are visible, showing them going through the ruins of what must have been the Trade Borough, finding the occasional survivor, and immediately shooting them. We enter the lift, and the gates clang shut as we descend. The ride is quick and silent.
Once down in the vehicle hangar, Bevan goes towards one of the work stations and begins to assist his team in cleaning and recharging the weapons. I go across the room, take the lift down to the lower level, get into a carrier, and head back to the housing units. The dining hall is currently closed since it’s well past lunch. No one is in line for the lifts, so I ride alone, exiting into an empty sitting room, displays showing a sunny day. Sitting down on one of the tweed-covered couches, I lean my head against the paneled walls and close my eyes.
“Trea,” I hear my name echoing in the distance. “Trea, you okay?”
Grainne is gently shaking me as I open my eyes. She’s covered in dirt from head to toe.
“I’m fine,” I murmur, rubbing the sleep from my face. “How was training?”
“It was okay. Mair and Thane wouldn’t leave me alone, as usual. I hate those two.” Grainne plops down on the seat next to me, arms folded in anger.
“When do you train next?”
“Tomorrow, why?”
“Maybe I’ll train with you. Would that be all right?”
Her face lights up, she hugs me, and heads off to shower and change. I wait for her, watching the sun set on the screens, and stars emerge. Men and women begin to exit the lift heading to their respective quarters when Grainne returns. We head down, get in line for dinner as the dining hall has now opened, and take our seats at the Sable table once we have our allotted food and drink. Vier and Jagger walk in, take their trays, and go to sit at their respective tables. Vier is wearing a red tunic like Braxton.
Bevan is talking to Rafer as they join the crowd, followed by Braxton and Caitrin who are talking animatedly, though not in anger. Their closeness bothers me. Caitrin is obviously flirting with Braxton, and I don’t care for it.
Why am I so bothered by this? Braxton isn’t mine, yet I feel anger towards him for allowing such an open exchange to be taking place. He shouldn’t be enjoying her company.
Grainne and I clear our trays. She goes off with the children to entertain them before they are shipped off to bed, while I go into the medical ward to check on Lehen, who’s sound asleep, snoring quietly. The medic stationed in his room gives me a pillow and blanket, allowing me to curl up on a lounge chair next to his bed where I close my eyes and drift away.
“Captain Braxton, please report immediately to the medical ward,” I hear in my dreams. Then I realize it’s not a dream. “Captain Braxton, please report immediately to the medical ward,” the voice hisses through a speaker above my head.
“What’s going on?” Lehen asks through a tired voice.
“I don’t know. I’ll go check.” I get up from the chair, keeping the blanket wrapped around my shoulders as I peek around the closed curtain.
The drapery to the room across the hall is crowded with medics. Several machines are being rolled into the small cavern as people shout orders. Braxton crashes through the doors, with Bevan and Jagger right behind him, all in their nightclothes. I step out from Lehen’s room and join them.
Jagger looks down at me, a painful smile creasing his worn face. “I’ve acted horribly to you,” he begins. “You’ve only been trying to save me, but I’m hardly maintaining control of myself, and I’m not sure if I can live like this. I’ve been holding it against you, but that’s not fair of me, and I’m sorry.”
I take his hand and squeeze it. “I just can’t lose someone else I care about. It hurts too much.”
He pulls me against his side, hugging me.
A tall man in a yellow tunic with gold stripes gestures to the people crowded in the room. “I need everyone to clear out of this room except for you three,” he says, pointing to Braxton, Jagger, and me.
The room empties quickly. Machines are placed back into their stations. Bevan steps away and closes the curtain giving us privacy.
“Captain,” the man begins, “I’m sorry, but we couldn’t save him.” He steps away from the end of Keller’s bed.
“Thank you, Ford.” Braxton places a hand on the man’s shoulder.
I move along the left side of the bed, Jagger next to me, and Braxton on the opposite side.
Keller’s body is as broken and beaten as we last saw him. Tubes of varying sizes still stick out from each limb, as well as his mouth and nose. Blood-soaked bandages cover much of his torso and arms.
“I’m sorry, Braxton,” Jagger finally speaks after a long silence.
Braxton reaches down, takes Keller’s hand, holding it tightly, and lets go before stepping out. I bend down and give Keller a gentle kiss on his cheek, and leave with Jagger following behind.
“What’s the procedure for taking care of the remains?” Braxton is asking Ford when Jagger closes the curtain behind us.
“We have a ceremony in which the body is cleaned, clothed, and wrapped tightly in sack cloth then lowered into the fissure. If you want us to do this, Captain, just let me know and I will handle the arrangements.”
“That’ll be fine.” Braxton exits the ward, head hanging.
“I’ll advise Holunder and we’ll announce the time of the ceremony so everyone can attend.” Ford squeezes my arm and shakes Jagger’s hand before disappearing behind a set of doors marked “Residence” at the back of the ward.
I retreat to Lehen’s room, Jagger goes back up to his residence, and Bevan stays with me as I break the news to Lehen. He is mournful, but not surprised. He tires in a few minutes, so we say our goodnights. Bevan and I leave the ward, but as I start to head toward the lift, he nudges my arm.
“I want to show you something.”
He gestures me to follow him over to the spanner, we get on a carrier, and once in the main building we make our way up to the top floor. Several men and women in red tunics sit in front of the many screens, changing what they’re viewing every few minutes. Bevan walks over to the farthest console on the left, and advises the woman working that he needs to use her station, at which she relinquishes her seat.
“Sit here,” he says to me, then goes and rolls over another chair for himself.
Once settled into place, he switches off the visual controls, opens a small onscreen folder in the lower right hand corner, and sifts through a number of files before finally choosing one.
“Before I show this to you, I need to tell you something.” He scoots himself closer to me turning my chair to face him. “I know Holunder has explained to you how Sirain obtained our design and technology for the Levin gun, what he didn’t tell you is what happened afterwards.” Bevan clears his throat. “A faction war broke out in Tartarus shortly after Holunder allowed the intruder to return to Sirain.”
“That intruder was my protector,” I remind him.
“Yes, I know,” he counters, rather abruptly. “I just learned that last night.” He takes a deep breath, putting his anger in check before continuing. “Holunder was able to get the factions back in line after several months. However, he had security intercept communications and video feeds from Tyre and Acheron to appease the agitators.”
“What about Nuceira?”
“Nuceira doesn’t use technology as much as the others, so we have very few ways of tracking them.”
“You don’t have to worry about them anymore. At least not at this time.”
I give an extremely brief explanation about the now extinct city, hoping he doesn’t ask too many questions.
“I’ll have to inform Holunder of this tomorrow,” is his only reply.
He turns his chair to face the monitor attached to the rock wall, and opens up the tab he had selected, causing two images to float onto the screen: a gritty looking man with a large nose, sharp teeth, and unkempt brown hair, and a much-younger Rena.
“It had been nearly a decade since anyone from Tartarus ventured into Sirain, but certain supplies were running low and the only way to get them was through one of Holunder’s contacts in Acheron, so a group of volunteers offered to take on the task…none would live through it.”
Bevan points to the photo of the man before continuing.
“Mercer, a former lieutenant of Byrrus, and his sister Rena, broke away from Tartarus after the incursion into Sirain went horribly wrong. Their older brother, Xander, was leading the effort when he was caught and executed on live television for all of Sirain to see. He had done nothing wrong. He was trying to rendezvous with one of the guards from Acheron to obtain medical supplies for us. It was an arrangement Holunder had made with the acting High Ruler, but Xander, along with his entire party, were captured, tortured, and killed by Vladim’s Regulators. The Acheron guard was also murdered. From my understanding he was Braxton’s predecessor. Consumed by anger, Mercer and Rena managed to convince many of the Hostem to invade Sirain, especially after they learned of the creation of the Antaeans. We lost almost one-third of our people to them. One of Mercer’s followers came back to Tartarus several months later, uncomfortable with the plans on attacking the Dormitories. He confessed to Holunder every detail before his death, so we gathered as many people as possible to go prevent the invasion, but we were too late.”
He changes the display to the ruins of the Dormitories, bodies being carted out from under smoking rubble. I recognize several blood-smeared faces, but one stands out among them: a young woman with short dark blonde hair, small nose, and soft lips. Her arms dangle at her sides as two men in Hostem outfits pull her out from a demolished housing unit. They carry her down the hill on the far north side of the complex disappearing over the ridge.
“Trea,” I hear Bevan say through cotton that has been shoved into my ears.
He catches me as I fall forward, and props me back up in my seat. He orders someone to get a cold wet towel and water. Somebody places the glass in my hands, forcing me to drink while another person dabs the sweat from my face.
“Who is that woman?” I feel the words come out of my mouth rather than hear them.
“I don’t know, but let’s get you back to the residence.”
Many arms lift me from my chair, carry me between them over to the lift, and then gently settle me into a carrier. Bevan practically carries me to the lift once we’re back, and knocks on the women’s door. The elderly woman takes me from him, and places me into bed. She drapes my blanket over me, pats me on the head, and whispers goodnight.
That face. I see that face every time I look in the mirror. Who is that woman?
I try and recall my memories, but I don’t see her. I only remember Magda, the woman who raised me.
Antaeans are designed to be able to remember everything from an extremely young age. Why am I having such a hard time? Is it a flaw in my design? Why can’t I remember?
When I wake in the morning, I’m alone.
I roll out of bed, find clean clothes in the drawer, and grab a fresh towel that’s hanging from the rail. Checking the time above the washroom door, I notice it’s still the women’s allotted period. The room is empty when I step inside. I hang my towel on the hook by the curtain for the center stall, turn on the faucet, and step in. I let the water rain on me for several moments as I search the depths of my mind to try to identify the woman’s face, but it won’t come. Picking up the bottle of bath soap for today, which is peach colored and smells like flowers, I douse very little of it on me as the smell is a little too strong for my taste.
“Trea, are you in here?” Grainne calls from somewhere in the room.
“I’m in here,” I reply.
I turn off the water and reach for my towel.
“I brought you some clothes since you said you were going to train with us today.”
I wrap the towel around me, and step out of the stall to find Grainne holding shorts and a shirt made of the same material as the protective suit Lehen was wearing when he was almost killed.
“Lehen is going to be joining us also. Ford thought it would be good for him to get out since he’s being released today. As soon as you’re dressed, come down to the eatery.”
I take the outfit, watch her leave, dress quickly, and run my fingers through my hair. I’ve become partial to the short black hair, so I begin to dig around the drawers and cabinets looking for anything to dye and cut it. A pair of shears is hiding underneath some combs in a drawer under the sink by the men’s door. Looking at my reflection, I carefully begin to cut my hair along my jaw line at first then around the back as best I can. It looks even, with maybe a few long strands. I take one more pass, cutting my hair to the same level as my earlobes. I sweep the discarded hair from the counter and dispose of it in the trash receptacle by the women’s door. Since I can’t find anything to dye my hair, I’ll have to see if someone from the Verdant faction can either give me something or make the dye, since they’re in charge of all housekeeping and toiletry items for the city.
Grainne is standing at the entrance to the eatery when I finally make my way down. We get our food, sit down, and eat. The eatery is not as crowded today, as we’re the last ones to eat breakfast. Grainne takes her roll and asks for mine again, which I relinquish.
I find myself curious about Grainne. She seems so innocent, having been isolated in Tartarus for most of her life. She’s the only person I’ve ever met, so far, that tries to get along with everyone she meets. It has to be how she was raised, as this is not the nature of a true Antaean.
We clear our trays, and she asks me to wait by the carriers while she runs back to her quarters for a quick minute. Piran is there pacing when I approach.
“She’s always late,” he mumbles, gesturing towards the lifts.
“Where’s the training today?”
“It’s on the other side of the city’s boundaries, east of the crofter’s camp. We should be there most of the day, but it all depends upon what Ares wants us to do.”
“She’s the lieutenant for the Byrrus faction, right?”
“Yes,” he answers. “We train for two days then rest for three. Each day a different lieutenant is in charge, each at a different location around the city or outside its boundaries.”
Grainne is skipping towards us as Vier and Jagger exit a carrier. We climb aboard, moving rapidly along the spanner, but even after we reach the main building we don’t exit. The rail swings us to the right and back behind the wall where we then make a sharp left. The vehicle slows down just enough for the three of us to hop out before whizzing around and back out.
The low ceiling room is crammed with heavy machinery, tool cabinets, and workers from the Sable faction covered in grease.
“This way,” Piran says, gesturing for Grainne and me to follow.
We walk towards the back of the room and through a heavy metal door set into the wall. The door is
hard to close, but I manage to get it shut. The tunnel we stand in is constructed out of the same metal as the door and the transport vehicles. Small lights dot the walls every few feet, though they cast very little glow. The air is hot and stuffy, which makes the journey all that more exhausting. We walk for twenty minutes before exiting out through another door and into a thick forest. A flight of stairs leads us up to the valley floor where Ares is standing, arms crossed over her chest, cheeks red with anger.
CHAPTER 7
“Why are you always the last one, Grainne?”
Ares’ exasperated sigh is a little overdramatic, and causes the two children behind her to laugh. “Mair and Thane, why don’t you get the gear ready for climbing while Grainne does a half mile run for her lateness.”
Mair and Thane, twin boy and girl, snicker at each other before grabbing a satchel containing ropes and harnesses. Piran goes over to assist them while Grainne takes off to my right, head hanging. I jog up next to her and make it a competition to see who can get back faster. Since I’ve been doing this kind of training for most of my life, I don’t put much effort into the run, and let Grainne win.
“Out of shape, are we?” Ares mocks, a grin forming at the corners of her mouth.
I shake her comment off and concentrate on helping Piran set up the rigging.
We each take two long coils of rope and toss them over the highest branches we can reach. Mair and Thane each put on a harness, then loop the ropes through the locking device sewn into the top. Piran and I wrap the other end of the rope around our waists to anchor them as they begin to climb.
Mair’s long thick curly hair swings from the top of her head as she ascends the tall oak in front of me. The sun hits her, making her olive skin seem darker and a few strands of her light brown hair look almost a bright yellow. I look over at Thane, who is climbing the tree in front of Piran; the sun is having the same effect on him.