The Remnant

by Laura Liddell Nolen

  Twenty

  I was a wooden puppet, guided by unseen forces, on the trip home. I did not speak to Isaiah. What would be the point? We understood each other.

  I let myself be strapped into the Arkhopper without a word. When Shan bent to secure my forehead, I caught a view of the rest of the tiny receiving room off the Asian hangar. Eren and his father were being prepared for their flight back, too.

  Eren met my eye for a single moment. It wasn’t a pleading look. His eyes did not ask me for anything. He wasn’t angry, either. He was merely searching. Trying to guess what I felt.

  I looked away.

  The hatch was sealed; the coordinates set.

  We were released into the weightlessness of the endless sky.

  The docking at return was as bad as advertised. We aimed for the center of the wheel, and the thrusters engaged, causing us to spin. I reminded myself that that was good, that we needed to spin before we docked, and the thought was comforting. When we were fully attached to the North American Ark, the hopper slid out to the edge, and gravity claimed us more and more heavily until at last the hopper selected the proper hangar.

  The stars spun hard around my head, but I didn’t scream. I had bigger things on my mind.

  When the hopper unlatched, I dutifully assisted Isaiah with his straps. I had the feeling he accepted my help out of kindness rather than necessity.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked, gasping more than I’d expected to. “Marcela should be here at least, right?”

  Isaiah shook his head. “She’ll be here. She’s never let me down.”

  I suppressed an angry look. Good for her, then. I still wasn’t sure I’d marry Eren. I’d always hated being forced into things. Pretty dresses for my parents’ parties, for example, were grating enough. Let alone a life partner I’d had no say in choosing.

  Near us, the Commander was stalking through the hangar, flanked by an official I wasn’t sure I recognized.

  “Jorin should be here, too,” I half-muttered.

  “Who?” said Isaiah.

  “Lieutenant Malkin, the Commander’s second in command. As I understand it, his job is to make sure the stunners are charged. Real nice guy; you’d like him.”

  Isaiah smirked, but it was cut short. The platform had barely dropped into place when a low, unearthly rumble shook the floor, and I redoubled my grip on his arm.

  “Easy, there, little bird. I’m not made of steel.”

  I made an admirable attempt at unlatching from him before settling on what I hoped was a light, casual death-grip on his lower arm. “Honestly, and I am still kinda recovering here, but did this room just move?”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, yet,” he said in a low tone.

  “That’s the thing about a spaceship, Ise. When one thing rumbles, that means everything is rumbling.”

  “I will agree it’s not ideal.”

  “Well. So long as I’m not crazy. Hey, there she is!”

  Marcela and her flame-red hair came sprinting toward us across the long white hangar. “King! They’ve breached the cargo hold.”

  “That is the point of a demilitarized zone, isn’t it? No one’s guarding it?” I asked.

  “Oh, we guard it,” said Isaiah. “We just don’t interfere in it. Mostly.” He turned to Marcela. “What’s going on? Tell me everything.”

  “A report came in about an hour ago that you had struck a deal with the Commander, details to follow, and that the treaty was backed by Asian nukes.”

  She paused pointedly, as though waiting for Isaiah to confirm. Instead, he frowned. “And?”

  “We had your orders. No fighting. But they started it. Fired on everyone in the cargo hold. Lockies, our guys, everyone. And somehow, we’re locked out of HQ.”

  “Wait,” I said, “You’re locked out of headquarters? In the Remnant?”

  “We’ll figure it out,” said Isaiah. “Probably just a glitch. I’ll get Adam on it.”

  I looked out over the blue and white of the hangar just as the Commander reached the door to Central Command. “HEY,” I shouted after them. “Hey, Commander!” He turned back, and I continued to run toward him. “You’re firing on the DMZ? What does that even get you? More bins?”

  He paused, waiting for his aide to open the door, and gave me a tired look. “My son tells me you play chess. He was keen to list it among your attributes.”

  “I’ve played before.”

  The Commander nodded. “Well, I play a little chess myself. Fascinating game. Do you know the secret of winning?”

  “You’ll have to enlighten me.”

  “You attack the king, and you keep attacking. None of the other pieces matter. They’re nothing but tools—they’re weapons, in fact. You attack the king, over and over, until he cannot escape you.”

  “What a nuanced analysis. You should teach classes.”

  “I do have a point, Miss Turner, if you would be so kind. You exploit your opponent’s every weakness until his defenses are dismantled, and the king is exposed.”

  I felt my face begin to heat up. “I’m learning so much right now.”

  “You would be surprised, Miss Turner. Lesser players will cling to the other pieces, even to the neglect of their king. Easiest way to defeat them. They will insist on saving their favorites, their bishops and their knights. They assign them values quite apart from their usefulness as tools. Especially the queen. She has her advantages, but she is only a weapon.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of myself, if I were you, Commander. I’ve played a lot of chess with Isaiah.”

  “Oh?”

  “When we were kids, he used to sneak me into his cell. Had a chessboard in his room. The one condition of getting me out of my cell was that I had to play.” I met the Commander’s eye. “He needed someone to practice with.”

  “I’m sure that’s usually the way of it, when a young convict entertains a female prisoner in his quarters.”

  “You’re charming. You know that?” I cleared my throat. “Anyway. Isaiah is scary good at chess. When he gets checkmate—and he always does—I never see it coming, with one exception.”

  “Do enlighten me.”

  “When he sacrifices the queen, you’ve already lost. You just don’t know it yet.”

  There was a short moment of silence between us, and the door sucked open. The aide stepped aside. To my surprise, the Commander laughed: a short, humorless staccato. “Those aren’t my weapons, Miss Turner. Same as with Ark Five. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a battle to prepare for.”

  I took my time in returning to Isaiah and Marcela, walking deliberately, using every step to think. By the time I reached them, I’d made up my mind. If they were going to use me as a game piece, so be it. But I was going to play, too.

  They waited for me at the exit, still discussing the situation. There was a clear look of annoyance on Mars’s face.

  “Take me to West,” I said firmly.

  They stopped talking long enough to stare at me. Isaiah shook his head in disbelief.

  “Char, there’s a war on.”

  “I do not care about the war. I want my brother. I will marry Eren and ratify your stupid treaty, although I highly doubt it’s going to solve all our problems. But only if you take me to West. Now. And give me back my gun.”

  “We can’t,” said Mars. “He’s gone out to get the lockies.”

  “Then take me to the lockies.”

  “You can wait for him at headquarters. I don’t have time for this,” said Isaiah. Marcela gave me a strange look, as though I were something she recognized, but couldn’t quite believe she was seeing. A zebra, for example.

  I returned her stare with one of iron. “One way or the other, the Remnant is about to fall. We won’t win against Central Command in an all-out battle once they outrun Adam’s tech. They have ten times the people and the weapons. But even if we did, we cannot survive a direct attack from the Asian Ark.” I held out my arm to him. The gem on the k-band
glowed bright green against the pale underside of my wrist. “Take me to West, right now, or I will never marry Eren for as long as I live. Look at this. Tell him, Marcela. Tell him the light is green, because I’m telling the truth.”

  “Like I need a light to tell me that.” Isaiah’s frown deepened, but Marcela put a hand on his arm. He inclined his head to her, maybe for an instant, then took a deep breath. “Take her, Mars, and report back to headquarters. I’ll be in the control room with Adam. Maybe he can help us make sense of all this.” Isaiah pulled my gun from his bag and placed it in my waiting hand in a single, deft motion.

  He disappeared into the darkness as Marcela and I exchanged a final look. At length, she spoke. “This way.”

  Twenty-one

  The battleground wasn’t anything like I’d pictured. When we stepped into the cargo hold, Mars held up a hand, stopping me. I hadn’t heard an explosion for awhile, but the evidence was everywhere. The air in the hold was smoky and electric. The light was diffused, making it darker than usual, and creepiest of all, it appeared to be deserted.

  Going by the look on her face, it wasn’t what Mars had pictured, either. “The lockies are that way,” she said. “It wasn’t this bad half an hour ago. There must be some soldiers, too, but we haven’t located any. Everyone’s hiding. So keep an eye out.”

  Hiding from what, I wondered. But I nodded and crept along as fast as I could, letting her lead me through the rows at her chosen path and pace.

  Our route was straightforward, and we passed only Remnant locks on the bins. The air had a smell, too: like rain and melted plastic. Seconds later, I found out why.

  A long yellow bin lay marred and partially open. Its bright color was muted to a charred black at one end, and the roof was, for lack of a better word, melted down over the opening. “Is this what the bombs are for? They’re trying to open bins? Is this a fight among the lockies?”

  “No. I don’t know. I don’t think so. For one thing, lockies work for their governments. They won’t fight without orders. They’re barely armed. For another, look. No one’s been here. Nothing’s been taken. You’d have to lever off what’s left of the roof first. No one can fit in there. It’s gotta be something else.”

  For an instant, I watched her mouth move, and the sound was progressively muted. Even the noises around us, the sounds of our feet, for example, stopped making noise. And there was pressure in my ears, just for a second, until they popped.

  Then everything returned to normal.

  I looked around nervously, trying to see in all directions at once, but when I glanced at the ceiling, I grabbed Mars’s arm. “Look up. What is that?”

  The cloud above us was slowly swirling into a defined circle. My brain was engaging in a similar endeavor—mixing around and around, searching for the answer that was right in front of me.

  Or rather, right above me. I was so close. What was I missing?

  Think, Char. Think.

  “Hey, Mars,” I hissed again. “Is it just me, or is it, like, crazy cold in here? I can see my breath in the air.”

  “Shh,” she said. “That’s just the smoke from the bombs.”

  I nodded. “That’s kinda what I figured, except for one thing. Have you actually seen a bomb go off?”

  “What? What are you talking about? Didn’t you see the bin?”

  “I did, and it made me think. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a bomb before. Have you?”

  Marcela shrugged and kept moving. “Yeah. Combat training.”

  “But not in space.”

  She stopped hustling through the bins long enough to give me a truly withering glance. “No. That wasn’t really in the budget.”

  “Mars. Listen to me. My uncle had a tractor shed. It was probably made of the same kinda stuff as these cargo bins. He lived upstate. Lots of open land during the winter. No trees. Just a metal shed in the middle of a field. Plastic walls. We visited once during a thunderstorm. A real bad one.”

  Mars shook her head, ignoring me. “This is where they should be. He must have moved fast. They’re probably back at the Remnant by now. Keep moving.”

  “Look at that. The clouds are swirling in an actual circle. They’re getting thicker.”

  “Probably due to the air differential. You’re the one who thinks it’s so cold.”

  We reached the far wall, the one that bordered the Rift, and Mars began feeling around with her fingertips for the invisible door. I tilted my head, watching her. Air differential. She was smart. I’d give her that.

  “Yeah. I get that,” I said. “But what if we’re thinking about this all wrong? How can you have a battle with no soldiers?”

  She found the spot, knelt down, and began swiping her wrist around in a square. “I’m taking you to West. Then you’re on your own. I have to get back to headquarters before the bombing starts again.”

  My skin went cold. “But you said headquarters was locked. What are you doing? Is this door wired to a sensor?”

  “Yeah.” She bit her lip, concentrating, and kept right on swiping her wrist at the wall. “Gotta be a glitch.”

  “It’s not a glitch, Mars,” I said slowly. “That door isn’t going to open. And neither is headquarters. Not for you, or anyone else.”

  She stopped, breathed out, and finally looked at me. “And why is that?”

  “Because the attack didn’t come from Command. It’s coming from inside the Remnant.”

  “Char. What are you talking about?”

  My irritation with her dismissive tone was matched only by my growing trepidation. “Look around. We’re surrounded by clouds. That shouldn’t even be possible. That bin wasn’t bombed. This is a spaceship. You can’t drop a bomb on the bottom floor of a spaceship. It’d breach the hull. We’d all be sucked out. And so, so dead. They’re not bombs.”

  “Whatever you want to call them, we’re trapped. If we can’t figure this out, we’ll probably get to see one up close. Then we can talk all about it.”

  “They’re not bombs, Mars. You’d need something that kills without penetrating, like the bullets. Look around you. Look up. That bin was struck by lightning. It’s a thunderstorm. And there’s only one person who could have caused it.”

  Her annoyance dissipated into understanding and then fear, and her strong, slender arm froze in mid-swipe. “We’re under attack from Adam,” she said finally. “This is a coup.”

  Twenty-two

  “We have to get out of here. We’re sitting ducks.” She stood, instantly calm, pressing me against a bin, and scanned the area. “We gotta figure out his plan.”

  I looked at her. “Okay, how’s this? Step one: build the best weapons ever. Like, I dunno, a killer lightning cloud. Step two: take control of all the entrances and exits. Step three: kill everyone who tries to stop you. I’m pretty sure he’s on step three right now.”

  Marcela let her wrist fall back to her side. “Then we’ll just have to stop him.”

  “See, I don’t think you were paying attention during step three,” I said, but she wasn’t listening.

  She pulled a comm device from her uniform and held it to her ear. “King, it’s Mars. Come in, King. Repeat, Come in.”

  “MARS!” Isaiah’s voice came in. “Don’t come back in here! It’s—” Static hit the line, buzzing out the sound of his voice. A cold knot worked its way into my stomach. Isaiah never shouted.

  “King? Ise, you there? Isaiah!” Mars shouted. The static remained until the transmission was terminated with a short, soft beep. Mars and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Then she angled her shoulder at me, hiding her own face, and frantically pressed the buttons on the comm. “West. It’s me. You there?” Her voice lowered several decibels, and my expression deepened into a frown.

  When no one answered, she looked back at me. “We have to find another way into the Remnant. We have to stop Adam.”

  For a fleeting second, I wondered how long it would take me to round up West, Eren, and my father, and get them all on an Arkho
pper before anyone else realized what was happening. Before the Asian nukes arrived.

  Another part of me spared a moment of appreciation for An. She might have been onto something. Adam was dangerous, and he was a citizen of the Remnant. She was right to fear it. I couldn’t imagine what damage he’d do if his coup succeeded.

  And then I felt sick.

  There were a hundred thousand people on this ship at least. Men, women, and children. Families. And loners, too, like Amiel, who were barely clinging to this life, held together by nothing but the hope of a new one.

  Marcela was right. We had to stop him.

  I had to try, anyway. I didn’t know what my life was worth, but surely it was that much.

  We took off running. “Do you know of any other way out of here?” I asked. Mars looked back at me expectantly. Oh, sure. Now I had her attention. I held up three fingers. “The Remnant. Command. The hangar. Are there any other doors?”

  “He’s probably blocked them all by now. The hangar is likely our best—CHAR!”

  A smear of red hair split my vision, and I reached for Marcela. She was barely too far, but if the world were ending here, I supposed it didn’t matter. I breathed burning plastic, and my face hit the plyocrete as the universe exploded into light.

  I couldn’t see. There was only whiteness everywhere.

  I could breathe, though, for the moment, so I focused on that for the space of four heartbeats.

  Everything hurt, starting with my teeth. Except I was also kinda numb, too. But the numbness was fading, and the pain was about to win.

  “Char. Get up. You have to—” Marcela’s voice floated across an ocean of agony. “Char, please, you have to get up. It’s coming back.”

  “It?” I shuffled my hands under my chest and pressed the floor down, but it didn’t do much good. I couldn’t stand up if my life depended on it. Which it probably did.

  “Uunffh.” Marcela’s voice was near my ear, across the cargo hold, and all the way inside my head, entirely at once. Her arms were under mine, and we were standing, holding each other.