Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3)

  “How would I dare?” he mouthed. His eyes closed and he slipped asleep again.

  “That’s right, you tell him, Margo,” grinned Jon, from the doorway.

  Doctor Frederick hurried in past him and Jon followed him to the bed.

  “He was awake!” I told them.

  “Was he coherent?” asked Doctor Frederick.

  “He tried to say my name. Must’ve taken in what I said, ‘cause he replied! But he fell asleep again almost at once.”

  “You pressed the morphine button?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, in his condition, the morphine will be enough to put him back to sleep, but that can’t be helped. He mustn’t exert himself.”

  “I tried to stop him from talking...”

  “Quite so.” Doctor Frederick consulted the monitors. “He’s sleeping quietly, anyway. Well, I must still counsel you not to raise your hopes too high, but I’d say there’s definitely hope.”

  Off he went again. Despite what he’d said, I hugged Jon and he rocked me back and forth in similar jubilation before remembering my ribs and stopping abruptly. I was so happy the pain barely registered.

  News of Bane’s turn for the better spread fast. Half of Animal team managed to pop in despite there being barely half an hour before they left for the mission. Kyle came as soon as he’d seen them off, looking less strained, and bearing food as usual.

  “So much nicer for them all to be able to go off with some hope,” he remarked, dishing out a more than usually substantial meal.

  “Doctor Frederick said we mustn’t get our hopes up too much,” I admitted.

  “Yeah, but... without meaning to raise your hopes out of all proportion... Eduardo says Doctor Frederick could be pessimistic about a miracle let alone any normal recovery – and he’s one to talk. Everyone else thinks Bane’s going to be fine.”

  My heart lightened a little more and I tucked in. Could scarcely imagine a better Christmas present than this.

  Time for a Te Deum. Praise be to God.

  “Your Holiness?” I looked around the door.

  “Ah, Margaret, come in. I hope you don’t mind me taking you away from Bane for half an hour.”

  Bane had spent pretty much the entire of the last two days asleep, but as of last night Doctor Frederick considered him out of danger. I still felt like I was floating.

  “It’s okay. Doctor Frederick says he’s going to be fine. Lord willing.”

  “I know.” Pope Cornelius waved me to a sofa. “I wouldn’t have invited you round otherwise. Coffee? No tea, I’m afraid, we’re waiting for another shipment.”

  “I know. Coffee’s fine, thank you. I can get…”

  “No, no, sit down, relax. You look pale. Are you all right?”

  I absently rubbed the bandage on my arm. The hole was beginning to heal, but breathing was still no fun.

  “I’m fine. How are you, Your Holiness? I’m surprised you’ve got time to invite me to tea.”

  He waved this aside with the serving tongs.

  “Cake?”

  “Please.” I tried not to blush. Embarrassing letting him wait on me!

  He noticed my pink cheeks and winked cheerily as he handed me a plate and a mug.

  “Servant of the servants of God.”

  I had to laugh. We chewed and sipped for a while in an appreciative silence.

  “This Liberation operation of Bane’s is amazing, you know,” he said at last, putting aside his empty plate. “Normally it’s such a lot of work just to ensure all the Believers in the bloc have access to a priest on a fairly regular basis. So much that I fear we get a bit… hmm… narrowed down, in our focus. So intent on what has to be done from day to day that we don’t look at how to change the bigger picture. But your fiancé’s stuck a stick of dynamite into the wasps’ nest, all right. You both have.”

  “It’s all Bane’s idea.”

  “This bit is. You kicked the wasps’ nest clear across the garden, just to start things off.”

  I shrugged and said nothing.

  “I’m very glad that young man is going to pull through, and not just for the obvious reason. It would be a shame to lose his... ah... practical take on things.”

  I shuddered. The fact that as soon as Bane was recovered he’d go straight back out on another mission was something I’d rather not dwell on.

  “I keep thinking...” the words broke out suddenly, “I keep thinking... there was this moment when I froze, just for a second, when I saw...” I gulped. “When I saw Father Mark was dead. And I keep thinking... if I’d just moved faster, perhaps... perhaps Bane wouldn’t have been shot...”

  Pope Cornelius sighed – took my hand in his old wrinkled ones.

  “Or maybe, maybe you’d both have been standing in slightly different places and the little collection of bullets you brought home with you would have hit Bane instead – and he wouldn’t have come home at all.”

  I swallowed again. Bane might only have survived that burst because he was standing behind me...

  “I really... I really thought I understood... y’know, that it was dangerous. That someone might actually... get hurt. Now I feel like I really didn’t understand it at all.”

  “Ah yes,” he sighed, “I know the feeling. When I was a young priest – long time ago now, I admit – things were just getting really bad. Conscious Dismantlement had been recently introduced and we all thought we knew what we faced. Then someone I was working with – a close friend – got taken. Conscious dismantlement. Left me reeling.”

  I’d felt like this before – I realised now, when he put it like that. With the book, back in the Facility. Thought I’d understood what I was risking, until I actually won the competition... Reeling. That was the word.

  “Is there any chance of some more bulletproof jackets, Your Holiness?”

  “I was under the impression the planning committee were already organising another, ah, purchase, to take place as soon as New Year is passed. They don’t want to waste the time before then.”

  “No... That code – it’ll have saved...” I paused, my maths failing me. “Well, a lot of lives.” Thousands. Even if it did cost Father Mark his... I pushed the ungrateful thought away. Father Mark wouldn’t be complaining.

  “Yes, a Godsend, all right. Even if He did use a most unusual courier.”

  I nodded and said nothing. No one had ever named our ‘mysterious benefactor’ out loud. I think everyone hated being in the man’s debt.

  “I take it you won’t be leaving Bane’s side for a while?”

  “No, I won’t. Everyone’s told me how replaceable I am often enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

  “Oh no, of course not.” He changed the subject.

  His desktop computer pinged gently after a while and he checked his watch.

  “We must draw this to a close, I’m afraid. I have a video conference to attend. Oh, just leave those on there...” Obediently I placed empty plate and mug on the side table. He saw me to the door.

  “Thank you for tea, Your Holiness.”

  “You’re welcome. Nice to catch up. I hope Bane will be able to come next time. Which reminds me, I know Father Mark was going to marry you two. I don’t know if you’ve chosen someone else yet – I imagine not – I just wanted to let you know I’d be honoured to take his place. But don’t feel you must pick me.”

  I smiled, sadness mingling with appreciation.

  “I imagine we will want to take you up on your offer, Your Holiness, but I’ll check with Bane.”

  “Of course. Oh, this is for you. Well, not to own, I’m afraid, we can’t quite afford that, but it’s for your exclusive use.”

  He placed a largish, flat box in my hands, but as I opened my mouth to inquire what it was, his computer pinged again.

  “I must say goodbye, Margaret, three continents are waiting.”

  He ushered me out, blessed me and shut the door.

  Hmm. I eyed the box and headed back to Bane’s room in the hospital
wing. My home for the last few days. Bane was still asleep. Hopefully hadn’t noticed my absence. I couldn’t really turn down an invitation to tea with the Pope!

  I placed the box on the table, opened the flaps along one narrow side and slid out the contents.

  Oh.

  A laptop.

  Was it me, or did I have my new work assignment?

  I lifted the lid and switched it on, pulling up a chair whilst it came to life. Everyone wanted me to write, I just... hadn’t felt like I could. Call everyone else to arms from this – admittedly deceptively – safe citadel? Sit at home writing whilst everyone else was out saving lives?

  I was going to be sitting at home now anyway... And Pope Cornelius was clearly getting impatient enough to give me a gentle nudge.

  The usual icons clustered in the corner of the screen, but one sat right in the middle – ‘FreedomBlogs’. Another hint? I clicked on it.

  A webpage opened up. This computer was online?

  FreedomBlogs

  Congratulations!

  Your new blog account has been created.

  To begin blogging, fill in the information below to tell your readers about you and your blog. Then click on ‘New Blog post’ and you’re away!

  I drummed my fingers gently on the table. Blogging. Yes... no way I was getting another book published, was I? But it was nearly impossible for the EuroGov to censor things online – though they tried hard enough. Most people didn’t actually have internet but ‘PrintArounds’ – blog entries printed off and photocopied and passed on, either for free or for cash – were in high demand, and had almost as wide a circulation as newspapers. There were a lot of popular blogs. Whether I could write one of them was another question...

  I picked up the phone and dialled.

  “Eduardo?”

  “Margaret?”

  “Yes. You know the little gift the Holy Father’s just presented me with? If I post something on this link begging for attention in the middle of the desktop, will it be traceable?”

  “I prepared that little link myself, so what do you think?”

  “No, then. Just checking. Okay, thanks, bye.”

  So. I stretched, steepling my fingers and staring at the ceiling. Do I get the impression I’m supposed to do this, Lord? Well, a blog needed a name. I clicked in the box and typed, ‘I Am Still Margaret.’ No. I deleted it. Tried again, ‘The Three Most Wanted’. No, delete. Jon and Bane were unlikely to be writing anything on it. What about...

  Oh no!

  I leapt up from the table and bolted through the door. But I didn’t run all the way to my room; no point, the damage was done.

  Pulling the seed tray from the window, I looked glumly at the shrivelled seedlings. Bother. The winter sun in Gozo was quite hot enough to kill young plants if you didn’t water them for about five days. But... the one in the corner had been in the shade... I watered it cautiously and left it out of the direct sunlight. Could always plant some more, but then I’d have to wait all over again.

  Returning to Bane’s room, I put my fingers on the keyboard once more and marshalled my Esperanto.

  Blog Title: The Impatient Gardener

  Name of blogger: Margaret Verrall

  Subject of blog: Life as a fugitive, Sorting, Religious Freedom, Liberations.

  Subject categories: Biography, Politics, Religion.

  Likes and dislikes: I like Bane Marsden – actually I love, love, love him – I like Jonathan Revan, all my family and friends, going to Mass, praying, reading and writing, mountain biking and high adventuring in the Fellest (though I’ve probably done the last of that), blowing up EuroGov fireworks, liberating reAssignees, being free, and being alive.

  I dislike Sorting, Dismantlement, Facilities, the EGD, the EuroGov, Religious Suppression, Major Gladys Wallis, Private Finchley, several members of the SpecialCorps, machine guns and all Lethal weapons.

  People you admire: Our Lord, Our Lady, Cardinal Hans Schteiner and Father Peter Wilson (requiescant in pacem), Bane, Jon, my parents, loads and loads of the Underground. Oh, and Lucas Everington – if I could’ve pulled a stunt like that, I wouldn’t even have needed Bane, would I?

  Just in case anyone was starting to forget that embarrassing episode. They hadn’t found hide or hair of the man, yet. Doubt they ever would.

  Right. I checked it over and clicked ‘save’. Then clicked ‘New Blog post’.

  Title: Politics and Religion

  Subtitle: All the laws we live with boil down to two things: thou shalt not talk about politics or religion. Sorry, but this blog’s going to talk about both.

  Okay, this is my first ever Blog post, so bear with me. I thought in this first one I’d say what my future posts are going to be about. Primarily, I’m going to write the sequel to ‘I Am Margaret’, because I think people might like to know how I got from the Facility to where I am now. Where I am now is Top Secret, sorry. We don’t want the EuroGov to come calling.

  I’ll also be posting a few thoughts on relevant topics, because I believe that’s what bloggers are supposed to do. I’ll understand if you’re not very interested in the opinions of a New Adult, so feel free to skip those. I’d also like to apologise in advance – the ‘sequel’ will not be up to the same standard as ‘I Am Margaret’ since I’ll be posting it as I go along, and will have less time for editing.

  So why have I been silent for so long? Well, as you will discover when I tell the tale, it took us a long time to reach ‘safety’. And after that we decided we’d like to share our freedom with as many other reAssignees as possible. So that’s the third thing this blog will do. It will give you the truth, and keep you up to date, about the Liberations.

  All Bane’s idea. That’s the first point I’d like to get across. Every time I enter a dorm of girls they all point and say, ‘Margaret Verrall’s come to rescue us!’ Which is great for making them feel safe and getting them moving, but it’s a bit irksome. The Liberations were Bane’s baby and he should be getting the credit. Isn’t he doing a good job?

  So how do I have time to write this if I’m zipping around Liberating reAssignees? Well, I’m not sure what version of this the media gave, if any, but four nights ago a Liberation went wrong. To get to the fifth mission without anything going wrong is doing pretty well, in my opinion, but wrong this one went. An old friend was killed – the EuroGov weren’t using nonLethals – and Bane was injured. So I won’t be going on any more missions until he’s recovered – we like to stick together. So those of you who pray, pray his recovery will be swift, so we can get back to saving your children.

  I read it through a couple of times, made a few little adjustments. Could be worse. All the blogs I’d ever read were fairly informal. I frowned at it. Lord? Do I post? Yes?

  A change in the monitor’s beeping? I looked around quickly – Bane was watching me.

  “Oh, don’t stop,” he whispered. “Looks important.”

  But I just typed:

  Enough for now. Bane’s awake.

  Clicked ‘post’. Done. I went to the bed and sat carefully on the edge, leant to kiss him.

  “That’s nice. Though I was enjoying the scowl.” His brow wrinkled slightly. “Where did the laptop come from?”

  “I think I have a new work assignment.”

  “Oh. About time.” Already he looked tired, just from those few words – I placed a fingertip on his lips. He promptly kissed it, making me laugh.

  “Shss, Bane. No chattering from you, doctor’s orders.”

  “You’re a doctor now, are you? How long was I asleep for?”

  “Shsss!”

  He smiled unrepentantly, but fell silent. I lay down beside him, careful not to jostle him – or my ribs – and rested my cheek on his shoulder. Wasn’t long before he was asleep again. I stayed where I was, stroking his hair.

  The door opened after a while and Jon came in.

  “Where’s your stick?” I asked.

  He held up his ‘long eye’, looking smug.
<
br />   “Your other stick.”

  “Don’t need it any more. Clean bill of health. Well, almost. I won’t be running a marathon yet.”

  “Well, at least one of you is back to rights.”

  Cocking an ear towards the table, he went and ran his hands over the laptop.

  “Where did that come from?”

  “New work assignment.”

  “Finally,” he snorted. Had everyone been waiting for me to start writing again?

  “I’m blogging.” I went across to the computer. “I suppose you want to hear?”

  “Of course.” He dropped into a chair.

  “Very good,” he said when I finished. “Now, that’s something only you can do.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Loads of people can write just as well as me, if not better.”

  “But they can’t be Margaret Verrall. And it’s Margaret Verrall people want to read.”

  I checked the hit counter. Three. “Not sure anyone is going to read it, y’know.”

  “Well, are you coming to lunch, pessimist? Have an actual cooked meal, hmm?”

  “Why not. Bane was awake just now, he’ll probably sleep for a bit.”

  I put the laptop’s lid down and followed him.

  Bane had a constant stream of well-wishers that afternoon, though he slept through most of it – clearly people now felt their visit wouldn’t finish him off. The Liberation teams had just returned after an uneventful mission, praise be to God. Their visits were very brief; they were going out this evening yet again and needed to sleep. The code changed the day after tomorrow. Time for one more round of Liberations – seven hundredish lives.

  “How’s your blog counter doing,” asked Jon, as I stacked late Christmas presents and get-well gifts of sweets and nibbles around the sleeping laptop, along with the odd dusty posy.

  “I don’t know. I’ll have a look after supper.”

  “Have you no curiosity?”

  “Well, it’s not going to go backwards, is it?”