The Rebel

by Gerald Brandt

  “Have they ordered an evacuation?”

  “Not yet, but our source says the people are doing everything they can to get out. Two emergency pods have already left the station. A rescue ship picked them up and brought them back to the city.”

  “Have they docked?”

  “No, they are waiting for the landing beacons to come back on.”

  Andrew sighed. Good. There was a chance that at least some of the people would make it off. As long as the ships couldn’t dock.

  “There’s one more thing. Without the ability to launch the shuttles, there aren’t enough escape pods for everyone. Not even close.”

  “And the military dock? Still functional?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do they have in inventory? Enough to get everyone off?”

  “Intelligence reports say they barely have enough for the military staff. No room for anyone else.”

  Andrew felt the inexorable draw of the conflict he had hoped to avoid ever since he’d read Natsumi’s message. He’d already disobeyed orders when he contacted the admiral earlier. Was he really prepared to take the final step? A battle raged in the back of his mind between his orders and what he knew was right. He turned back to the large display and stared at the faltering city.

  “Kaisa.”

  “Yes, Kaishō-ho.”

  “Bring your second-in-command to my ready room.”

  The smaller man saluted and spun on his heels. Andrew watched him go. The next few minutes would decide the fate of himself, possibly his entire crew, and those who remained on SoCal 2. He was about to not only disobey his commander’s orders again, but also Admiral Hamil’s warning.

  The ready room was in the corner of Operations, close to the entrance. He marveled again at how good a job Meridian had done in laying out the station. Even Kadokawa 1 didn’t flow as well. Meridian had spread military control throughout the city, interspersing it with the required residential and economic sectors. To them, it was for resiliency in case of war. If a portion of the city was damaged, any one of the other military sections could take over command. He looked at it differently. Military and family life did not often go hand-in-hand, but if you wanted soldiers who had a home to go to, a place where they could put aside their duties for a while, you ended up with staff who would do extra when you required it. Only the immediacy of this war had made him send family off-station.

  Mori and Kaisa Tahn walked into the ready room, standing at attention until Andrew asked them to sit. She looked like she had just woken up. Mori had no doubt brought her up to speed on the way back.

  The truth was, Andrew was scared. Not for his life, not even for the lives of those who served him here. He was scared for the future of Kadokawa. He had no children to pass the future on to, but many did. Was he able—was he capable—of making the right decision for all of them? Did he know what the right decision was?

  It was time to get straight to the point. “I have had a direct order from Okinawa. Earlier today, I requested permission to extend an offer of help to SoCal. They are obviously having issues they cannot resolve. Kaishō Aiko responded to me directly. Under no circumstances was I to do so.” Neither of the Kaisas moved. Andrew pulled out a chair and dropped into it. He was so tired, it felt like his life was draining from him.

  But he had made up his mind.

  “I am about to disobey that order. The people of SoCal are in need, and Kadokawa has built itself around helping the people of this planet, no matter who or where it was required. That single-minded purpose is the reason I joined the military. That purpose has made me who I am today, and I cannot turn my back on it. Or the people of SoCal.

  “I will be ordering all of our fighter craft back here and sending out personnel carriers and hospital ships. We need to evacuate SoCal 2 before it collapses. I need to know where you and the rest of the men and women stand.”

  A long silence filled the room. Andrew felt his own heart pounding in his temples.

  “I’m afraid I need an answer fairly quickly.”

  Mori was the first to respond. “I am with you, Kaishō-ho. I think you know the Operations staff are as well. We may have some issues lower down the ranks, but I believe we can contain them.”

  Andrew let out a sigh. One down, one to go.

  Kaisa Tahn sat for a long time before she answered. Andrew knew exactly what she was thinking. Was saving the people of SoCal worth destroying her career?

  “I cannot speak for the people who work my shift, Kaishō-ho, but I will stand with you as well. Thirty years ago, you rescued my little brother from the rubble of an earthquake in Korea. He lived, thanks to Kadokawa and to you. I will not turn my back on the kindness I saw that day.”

  Tension flowed from Andrew’s shoulders, quickly replaced by a flood of relief. Having his two Kaisas behind him went a long way to having everyone else agree. “Thank you. If—perhaps when—I stand trial for treason and insubordination, I will make it clear you were simply following my orders. Your records will remain clear from what we do here today.”

  He was the first to leave the room, followed closely by Mori and Tahn. She left Operations, though Andrew doubted she would go back to bed.

  He raised his voice loud enough for the entire bridge to hear. “Kaisa Mori, withdraw our fighters from the front line and have them dock. Send out as many personnel carriers as we have, and three hospital ships. Have more standing ready in case we need them. Inform the pilots that if we need to dock, they are not to connect to any internal SoCal systems. For any reason. All docking procedures are to be done manually. Both cities are having system failures. We don’t want any of their problems affecting us. Monitor everything. If they connect to any systems, refuse them docking rights when they get back. Open a line to Rear Admiral Hamil.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  It had begun.

  SOCAL SAT CITY 2—FRIDAY, JULY 7, 2141 2:31 P.M.

  They moved Bryson and me into an office off the hangar deck. I was surprised they’d kept us together. Not that it would make much difference if they’d already decided what to do with us. We were strapped into wheeled chairs using old-fashioned metal handcuffs. A cuff for each arm and, if my restraints were the same as Bryson’s, a single one looped under the wheeled feet. No zip ties to get out of this time. The handcuffs limited our movement. We could shift in our seats, but we could only move our hands and feet as far as the chain let us.

  We sat in the chairs facing two large windows overlooking the hangar deck. On the other side of the glass everyone ran around, the previously organized people now looking lost and confused. The only thing not moving was the ship and two soldiers positioned outside our door. The only way out of the office was through them.

  I couldn’t see any way to get out of this one.

  On the hangar deck I saw Ms. Peters talking to some guy wearing the same uniform as everyone else. She was giving him a good dressing-down, and he just stood there, replying to whatever she said. It didn’t seem to faze him at all. My guess was he was fairly high up the organizational ladder.

  She waved her arms in the air. He said one more thing and turned to leave. When she started talking again, he kept on going. Definitely someone important. She watched him go for a while before turning and heading toward us.

  I leaned into Bryson. “Don’t say anything,” I said. “Nothing you say can get us out of here any faster, all it can do is mess up Ailsa. Understand?”

  He gave me a shaky nod. His face was white, and I could hear him trying to control his breathing. His entire body vibrated in the chair. This guy wasn’t going to make it if he didn’t get his shit together.

  He closed his eyes. “For Ailsa,” he whispered.

  The color didn’t return to his face, but his breathing slowed and the trembling became less noticeable. Good. The more control he had before she got here, the less damage he could
do if he lost a bit of it.

  Ms. Peters didn’t keep us waiting for long. A soldier opened the door and closed it behind her. She looked flustered. Spots of red sat high on her cheeks, and her eyes almost sparked with barely controlled energy. I smiled when she wasn’t looking, calmer than I had been since we’d been caught. She was off-balance. When someone was on the edge, they tended to make poor decisions. We needed to make sure those decisions went our way.

  “Bryson,” she said. “I thought we had an agreement?”

  Her voice was calm and under control. I berated myself for being so optimistic. This was a dangerous woman. Bryson stayed quiet. Good for him.

  “Nothing to say? Maybe we need a bit of persuasion.”

  Bryson started shaking again. Her threat scared him to the core.

  “Talk to me, Bryson.”

  “I . . .” His voice faded away.

  He stared at me with a pleading look.

  “So, this girl has more control here than I do? Is that what you think?” She waited for a response. When none came she turned to look at me.

  “And how about you? Will you be talking to me today?”

  I didn’t answer, keeping my eyes on Bryson. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her move closer. Bryson’s gaze flicked over to her and widened. I didn’t have time to do anything before the back of her hand hit my face. The blow wasn’t powerful, but it stung, bringing tears to my eyes.

  I looked at her then, blinking away the tears. She was rubbing her hand. The impact had hurt her. That meant it wasn’t something she was used to doing. She was on the edge. The urge to rile her up more, to push her over, call her a fucking bitch and lash out, washed through me. I shoved the giddy feeling aside, knowing it wouldn’t work. It was what she wanted. Staying quiet was doing the job just fine. She leaned in closer.

  “What was that? Were you going to say something?” Her voice stayed calm and controlled. “Come on, tell me what you’re thinking. How much you want to hurt me back.”

  I glanced at Bryson. His eyes were huge and a string of snot ran down from his nose. He wasn’t going to make it. I did what Ian would have done; I smiled and winked at him. It seemed to work, at least a little bit. He leaned back in his chair and gave me a lopsided grin. It was pretty shaky.

  Ms. Peters straightened and took a step back. “Well, this isn’t working, is it? I’ll tell you what I’m going to do to you, dear girl. I’m going to have one of those men come in here and hurt you. I know you’re pregnant, so I’ll make sure they’re careful. You don’t need your legs or arms to give birth. Not even your sanity, really. When you’re lying on the floor in a pool of your own blood, I’ll bring in a doctor. He’ll fix you up enough for you to stay alive. He’ll put you into a coma until you’re due. We’ll pull you out when the baby’s ready, let you experience the birth. I’ll even let you hold him for a minute.” She leaned in closer. “Then I’ll take him away. Raise him as my own.”

  “Why? Because you’re too stupid to raise your own son? That was his picture on your display, wasn’t it? Where do you keep him so he doesn’t learn about the piece of shit his mother is?” I’d let her words get to me, let the fear and the anger wash through me until I couldn’t control it anymore. I knew I’d lost this battle the second I opened my mouth. The look on her face was almost worth it.

  “How dare—You have no right—” Ms. Peters’ face flushed red and she looked like she was struggling to get herself back under control. “It was trash like you that took him from me, that ended his beautiful life before he’d even had a chance to enjoy it.” She straightened, staring down at me with a loathing I could almost feel. “I’ll take yours. Teach him to hate the people below Level 6, teach him how to make them do his bidding, like they do mine. Every day I’ll show him your picture and tell him how you killed his father. He’ll grow up hating you and everything you stand for. Too bad you won’t be around to see it.”

  The more she spoke, the more I wanted to be free for just a second, to wrap my arms around her ugly face and twist until I heard the snap of her neck. No one, no one was going to raise my little Ian but me.

  “No!” Bryson couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He pulled against his restraints and looked at me “I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I can’t—”

  “Don’t you see it doesn’t matter?” I asked. “Nothing you say will help now.”

  Ms. Peters grinned. “Are you sure of that, Bryson? Tell me what you were planning on doing to the ship, and I’ll let her live. Let her son actually see the person he’ll hate more than anyone else.”

  I shook my head. Bryson fell back into his chair, his eyes wild.

  Ms. Peters’ lips pressed together. “Fine.”

  Klaxons went off on the hangar deck. I flinched, taking my eyes off Ms. Peters. Smoke billowed from the far corner, coming from behind the ship.

  “Now what?” Ms. Peters went to the door. “Watch these two. If they get out, I’ll see to it you’re kicked out of the military and forced to work on Level 1 for the rest of your short, miserable lives.” She stormed out.

  One of the soldiers came in and double-checked our restraints. Satisfied with what he saw, he left and closed the door. They turned their backs to the window and watched the smoke cloud grow.

  When I was sure they weren’t watching us, I leaned close to Bryson. “Do you have a thin piece of metal or a pin on you?”

  Bryson shook his head.

  “Anything hard and flexible?”

  He shook his head again. “Wait, I have a memory chip.”

  “Too small, and not strong enough.” I looked around the room for something to help me. If only I still had my bobby pins. On the desk was the pad I had grabbed when we’d entered the hangar. “Is there anything in the pad that is strong and flexible?”

  Bryson thought about it for a second. “Maybe. The shielding on the back panel may work. It doesn’t have to be thick to block what the pad puts out, though. Will it do what you want?”

  “It has to.” I rolled to the desk. The soldiers were still looking at the smoke that was filling the hangar. I leaned forward as much as I could, barely catching the edge of the pad with my chin. I dragged it across the desk until it fell into my lap. So far so good. “I need your help. We need to break this thing open. You grab one side, and I’ll grab the other. Try to fold it in half. Don’t drop it!”

  I moved the pad between our chairs. If we dropped it, it was gone. Neither of us could pick it up off the floor. Bryson grabbed an end and we tried folding the pad. It snapped with a soft pop, breaking much easier than I’d thought it would. Bryson let go of his end and the pad slipped from my fingers. I lunged as far as I could and pinched. The handcuffs dug into my forearms, but I had it!

  I dropped the pad in my lap again and turned my back to the window, picking away the pieces of plastic. Bryson kept a lookout. He was right, the entire back was covered in a thin layer of metal. I pried a fingernail under it until it lifted, and carefully peeled it off the plastic. It was way too thin for what I needed, but it was more than big enough. I only hoped that if I folded it a couple of times, it might do the job. By the time I’d folded it five times, I had a heavy-duty strip about one centimeter by five. It would have to do.

  I took the folded metal and spun back to Bryson. “Move your wrist so I can see the ratchet on your cuffs.” He shifted and I slid the metal shim into the locking mechanism along the teeth. It stopped when it hit the lock. I put my thumb on it, keeping a steady pressure on the metal while I slowly tightened his handcuff. The lock ratcheted and the shim slipped in deeper. The cuff didn’t relock. The metal strip held the locking mechanism out of the teeth and the handcuff sprang open. I breathed easier. This was working.

  I took a quick glance out the window. It was still chaos.

  “Give me your other hand.” Bryson spun his chair and I repeated the process, talking my way through it so
he knew what I was doing. His cuffs fell into his lap. “Okay, now me.”

  “What about my feet?”

  “Me first. If they catch us, I have more of a chance of stopping these guys than you do.”

  Bryson nodded. He missed the push of the shim on the first try, tightening my handcuffs even more. I figured he had one chance left before it would get too tight to work.

  “Slow and steady. You can do this.”

  He sucked in a breath and held it, repeating what he had done the first time. The cuff sprang open and the shim fell to the floor. I reached down to pick it up.

  I didn’t even have time to free my other hand before the door to the office jumped open.

  SOCAL SAT CITY 2—FRIDAY, JULY 7, 2141 2:45 P.M.

  I launched myself from the chair, tripping over my leg cuffs. My shoulder slammed into the door with all the speed I could get and the chair fell on top of me. The door smashed into the first soldier. Momentum was on my side and I felt more than heard a crack. He slid to the ground. The door burst inwards, slicing into my cheek, and I scrambled back on my hands and knees, dragging the chair with me.

  The second soldier jabbed his shock stick at me. I scuttled farther backward. The stick sparked against my shirt, barely missing. My legs were free of the chair, but still shackled together.

  I didn’t have time to think. Instead I moved, scrambling onto my feet and swinging the chair between us. He kicked it out of the way, forcing me off-balance.

  Bryson unlooped his foot cuffs from the chair and hobbled behind the desk. He was useless in here and he knew it. The shock stick swung. I fell back, kicking out with both my feet. I felt the impact of the stick, sending it flying as I landed on the overturned chair. My back arched and I rolled away, twisting my shoulder as the chair moved with me.

  The soldier jumped and I rolled back, struggling onto my hands and knees. A heavy boot swung toward my face. I wasn’t going to win this one.