Again, something in the back of her mind tingled, like a memory pushing to break through the barrier of her amnesia. It was a sensory reaction that never reached the cognitive level, and as soon as she realized she should know something, the first signs of a headache began to appear. She cursed silently. Not now!
"What was that?" Laurie asked. Sue looked up sharply.
"What do you mean?" she said, wondering if she had spoken out loud.
"You said "not now.""
"Oh, did I?" She waved it off. "It´s the headaches. They flat knock me out. It just felt like one is coming. I should get back home,” she said.
"All right then. Let me help you," Laurie said, getting to his feet. He extended a hand and helped her up. She took his arm, and they walked back toward town.
Chapter 3
Renee
Renee had dreaded the flight home. Compared to the confinement of the sub, traveling by airship was a luxury, but the flight reminded her of the final exodus of her people and the flight from the west bank of the Rift to Buchanan. She had developed a strange fear of flying, which was not so much fear of the flying itself, but of the things she associated with it: defeat, loss, and death.
The landscape below looked beautiful, but Renee knew it was an illusion. The Dead Zone stretched for hundreds of kilometers and contained diseases, people living hand-to-mouth in extreme poverty, and huge areas contaminated by radioactive fallout. She was surprised anyone could live like that. Thinking of them put a bad taste in her mouth. After all, the surviving French had been welcomed into Buchanan while many of these people were turned away on a regular basis. Captain Lee had explained to her once that Buchanan was unable to absorb more than a certain number every year, and more people were being born out there in the Dead Zone every year than Buchanan could absorb. It was simply impossible for Buchanan to help them any more than they already did. He had also explained that there were projects set up inside the Dead Zone with aid workers doing what they could to assist them in learning to help themselves. These were quite successful, but every now and then, some local war lord would feel threatened by their presence and go on a rampage, destroying everything the aid workers built and killing indiscriminately. From what he had told her, many in Buchanan regarded the Dead Zone as a lost cause, but some refused to give up on the people living there. These people wanted to push the Buchanan border out little by little, using military force if necessary. Of course, that would lead to wars and skirmishes, but it might help in the long run.
The problem was the Covenant. If the Buchanan border got too close, the Covenant would feel threatened and might decide to strike early. Everyone she had talked to said there would be an all out-war with the Covenant eventually. But the same people knew it would be devastating and wanted to avoid it at all costs. Renee didn´t know what to think. On one hand, she had seen the effects of war and feared it more than anything. On the other hand, war was sometimes the only option. Sometimes, people had to fight back.
She wanted nothing more than to crush the Covenant, but she knew the enemy was strong. They had wiped out the French in a couple of days. Buchanan would probably last longer, but if the Covenant launched a full-scale surprise attack, she doubted even Buchanan would stand a chance.
She didn´t speak to Grey, who slept through most of the journey. Only after crossing the Buchanan border did he open an eye, smile, and speak to her.
"You did well out there, Frenchie," he said. Renee blushed, even though she wasn´t the blushing kind. She was probably just tired, and receiving praise from her superior felt good.
"Thank you," she replied.
Grey, which was apparently the only name he went by, looked out the window and pointed at a mountain in the distance.
"See that mountain over there? It´s called Brenda´s Peak. They say it was named after a compassionate old lady during the years of winter after the Fall. Anyway, it´s probably just a legend." He looked back at Renee with piercing eyes.
"Not many agents get to go on active duty so quickly. I know you´re an experienced soldier, but still." He paused, but Renee said nothing.
"You´re a natural. The way you retrieved the intel, your field manners. But you need to pay more attention to your exfil. Your escape was quick, but you left clues. They were onto you, and they would have caught you if I hadn´t been there to pick you up," he said sharply.
"I´m sorry," was all Renee could think to say, but Grey cut her off.
"Don´t be. Someone without your talent would have been caught. In fact, the only thing that matters is the package. You got the intel, you delivered, and now you´re here. Without them knowing why you were inside the Covenant in the first place," he said. Renee relaxed a bit.
"Once we get back, I´m expected to file a report. It will contain everything I´ve said here, the good and the not-so-good. I will endorse you for further service in intel services. Like I said, you´re a natural." Grey grinned at her confused look.
"We take the good with the bad in our line of work. Knowing your strengths and weaknesses will save your life one day," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes again.
Renee looked out the window, processing what Grey had told her. She was one step closer to becoming a full intelligence operator.
Mark
Mark sat quietly, absorbing his friend´s words and fumbling for a reply to offset the anger and disappointment clearly aimed at him. Head Servant Lunde was fuming, and Mark saw his hands shaking.
"Do you realize what would happen if this came out? If even one person—the wrong person—got wind of this?" the Head Servant said. Yes, I know. Mark remained quiet.
"This would push young Hordvik into the arms of Ivanov and his ilk. And after that, war," Lunde continued. "A war that will be decided in mere minutes. A war that could give us the final victory or condemn us all. A war we both agree we cannot afford." He paused before he sitting down on the couch and taking a deep breath.
"And you went and killed his father."
"Who was ready to side with Ivanov," Mark interjected. "The war is coming, like it or not. I was merely buying time."
"Obviously not enough," Lunde said.
"You don´t know that. For all his inquiries, he still doesn´t know that I did it. You and I should concentrate on keeping it that way."
Lunde nodded slowly. He was calming down now that he was forced to see it from Mark’s perspective.
"Do you think he’ll continue to side with us? If he´s ambitious, he could easily overthrow me," Lunde said. Mark shook his head.
"He is ambitious. Or rather, he will be. But Evan Hordvik is not interested in personal gain. He wants to change the Covenant for the better. He has said so himself," Mark said, thinking of his conversation with Evan the day Sue became a full Janissary. It seemed like an eternity ago.
"He has done pretty well," Lunde added. "He’s definitely growing into the role as head of his family." Mark nodded in agreement.
"Young Hordvik is staunchly on our side. Even more than his father was. He hates Ivanov, and I cannot imagine those two working together any more than they have to," he concluded.
"I hope you’re right."
"Evan is difficult to read. Sometimes, I almost think he’s ready to go to war. He’s a soldier, first and foremost. Even his father saw this, and we should never forget it," Mark said, reaching out to grab Lunde´s bottle of fine whiskey. He poured two glasses and extended one to his friend.
"He´s a difficult man to control," Lunde said and took a sip. Mark smiled.
"We shouldn´t try to control him. We should let him grow and find his own way. Evan is an intelligent man. He understands that changing the Covenant for the better requires patience. There´s no room for error, and Evan knows this," he said. Lunde took another sip and sat back. He didn´t say anything, so Mark continued.
"Evan knows we’re the good guys here, that we’re the ones taking the long-term view, working to build a better future for the Covenant, for the Moon people
, even for the English."
"I hope he sees this," Lunde said.
"I know he does. Be patient. I hid my tracks well. He´ll never find out."
"Even so," Lunde said, swirling his drink and staring into the golden liquid, "he found out it was a murder somehow. I´m guessing he wasn´t meant to, right?"
Mark cringed.
"He wasn´t. I don´t know how he found out, but I´m sure he will find no traces leading back to me." Lunde didn´t reply. He just sipped at his drink again, and Mark noticed his face had become blank, expressionless. Mark took a deep gulp before breaking the silence.
"Come on, Alexej. There is something you´re not telling me," he said sharply. Lunde set his glass down and got back on his feet.
"It is time for you to go and have the treatment," he said. Mark almost spilled his drink.
"I can´t. There´s no time." Lunde waved him off.
"Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?" Yes, I have, Mark thought. Once upon a time, it was just the natural way of things. People got old. Mark had changed that, and as a result, he was still here more than two centuries after the Fall. Impact, we used to call it. The Moon people had come and changed everything, even the name of the event.
"You are taking the treatment. Right now. I´ll need you at your best, and right now you are not," Lunde said harshly.
"You know how long it can take."
"I don´t care. You take as long as you need, and then I´ll expect you to return to your duties right here by my side. You may have bought us time, but it won´t last. You said it yourself: the war is coming. When it does come, I need you to be on top of things."
Mark slumped back in his chair. He didn´t want it, but he could see that it was sensible. The pain in his joints, his rapidly aging face and deteriorating body, the fact that he may have slipped and left a clue that told Evan his father had been murdered, they all spoke in favor of admitting himself. Mark knew he had control issues, and being out of the loop in the coming months would be one of the hardest things he´d ever done. But Alexej was right. He had to be at his best, especially now.
Dave
"Are you saying that she will get better?" Dave asked sharply. The doctor sighed.
"In a way. But I´m also trying to tell you that we don´t know how long it will take. She has been given regular doses over time. Listen, we have captured Warden rangers before, and I´ve personally treated many of them. But the kind of dosages she´s been given are much higher than anything I´ve seen. It’s as if they were deliberately trying to eradicate her memory. Like they were afraid of something she knew."
"She knew me," Dave said, "and they were trying to eradicate the memory of me."
The doctor frowned for a moment before nodding.
"I´m not sure why that would be so important to them, but it is difficult to point at anything else."
"But a lot of people knew me," Dave mused.
"Well, what else could it be?"
"I know Sue. Together, we know the Covenant´s lies."
"Really? I´d think that would include most of Buchanan, the French, and a bunch of former Servants. Not enough."
"We figured out Bliss. The Covenant wouldn´t function without it."
"But you didn´t. Yes, you know what it does and how it is administered, but we still don´t know what it is. Not even our tests on Miss Sidnell have revealed much more than we already knew."
Dave walked out just as frustrated as when he walked in. He still hung onto the hope that Liz would wake up herself again, but it had been months with no change. It couldn´t last forever. He knew there was a possibility that the heavy dosages had caused permanent brain damage, and that Liz would have to remain confined for the rest of her life. Dave shivered at the prospect.
As soon as he entered his apartment, he walked straight to the cabinet where he kept Mark´s black box, the communication device no one yet understood. He checked it every time he entered the apartment, every time he left, and when he woke up and went to sleep. So far, nothing had happened. He was beginning to think that it might have been damaged when he landed in the Dead Zone.
When he opened the drawer, he almost let out a squeal. A green light blinked, and Dave picked up the box. It began to hum, and a blue light leapt across the surface. Fingerprint scan. Dave put the box on the table, and a small hologram appeared above it.
"Hello, young Wagner," Mark Novak said. "Unlike our previous meetings, this had to be a recording. Sorry about that. But I have a situation here, and I´m not sure when I´ll be able to speak to you again properly." He paused, and Dave sat down at the table.
"It has come to my attention that our common friend returned from Luna a while back." That had to be Sue, Dave thought. "Things haven´t gone the way I hoped. She is suffering from amnesia. I´m sure you understand the cause. Anyway, she and everyone else around her have been told she suffered head trauma, and she was honorably discharged from the Janissaries. She now lives in her old town, and she is being given regular treatment from the good doctors of the Moon people..." Yeah, I bet, Dave said to himself, his lips curling in disgust.
"I hate to see her like this, but there is nothing I can do for her at the moment. However, you might, if you speak to the right people. In fact, she might become a very useful asset to those around you, as would her medication, if you could only get a hold of it."
That´s it, Dave thought suddenly. Her medication: Bliss. If they could smuggle it out, the chemists in Buchanan might be able to create the antidote the doctor had been speaking of. That could help both Liz and Sue, and open up unknown opportunities.
"I wish I could be of more help, David, but for now, this is all I can do. I wish you well, and perhaps I´ll get a chance to speak to you again."
The message ended and the hologram disappeared. Dave knew he had to speak to Captain Lee as soon as possible. He´d know what to do about all of this.
Sue
It was early afternoon, and Sue was in bed recovering from her latest headache when the door slammed shut downstairs.
"Mom, what´s for dinner?" she heard Jason shout. Her mother´s voice replied quietly that he needed to lower his voice.
"Susan´s upstairs," she added, and Jason´s voice became a low whisper. She got out of bed slowly and put on a robe and slippers. As she passed the bathroom mirror, a vague memory suddenly came to her. It was Initiation Day, and she was standing in front of this mirror just hours before she was picked for Janissary duty. Sue remembered being nervous but excited, as if it were all an adventure. She had changed so much since then, but the holes in her memory prevented her from understanding what had changed her. She imagined things like being ambushed and fighting for her life had something to do with it. She remembered the first ambush clearly, but she only knew what she’d been told of the second one.
Sue shook it off and went downstairs. She met Beth and Jason in the kitchen, where Jason was helping their mother cook a pork stew. It smelled delicious. They had never had such good food before, but her Janissary pension helped. She was glad she could help her family, at least with money. Her mother only had about three years left; at least they would eat well now that they didn´t need to worry so much about money. Though her Service hadn´t lasted long enough for citizenship, her honorable discharge entitled her to full pension benefits. That went a long way around here.
"Susan, you´re up," Beth said, hugging her. Sue hugged her back while Jason grinned.
Sue went over and hugged Jason as well, and he squirmed to get out of her firm embrace.
"Come on, let me go," he said. Sue laughed as she released him.
"You´re so cute, Jason," she teased.
"I´m not cute. Get it?" he said, drawing himself up. At ten, he was determined to be treated as an adult. He was, after all, the man of the house. Sue let him keep it up. After her Service and the injuries that had almost killed her, she realized how much she depended on her little brother. They argued, and he could be an annoying little brat, but she lov
ed him. And in a few years, he´d be the only family she had.
"Okay, you´re not cute," Sue said. "You´re the man, Jason." He turned away, and although she suspected he knew the joke was on him, he seemed satisfied.
"Are you feeling better?" her mother asked. Sue nodded.
"I can´t go on like this, Mom. I’m going crazy. Besides, I´m shaving off ten years if I don´t get better. You know the limit for disabled people." Her mother stroked her head and embraced her again.
"Shh, sweetie, don´t talk like that," she whispered. "You´ll get better, you´ll see. Just be patient, take your medication, and rest whenever you have to. Sooner or later, you´ll get better." Sue wiped away a tear that had slipped through her armor.
"But I can´t live like this!"
"You won´t, honey. It´s just for now."
"But what if this is it?"
Her mother didn´t reply.
Chapter 4
Renee
Renee stood at attention as Selma entered. An elderly, slightly overweight woman usually wearing a stern look—although she could on occasion be compassionate and friendly—Selma looked nothing like what Renee imagined an intelligence operator should look like, especially not the head of the military intelligence service, Renee´s employer. Then again, wasn’t that the point? She suspected Selma had quite the past, and in a way, it was sad that she would never be allowed to talk about her adventures to her grandchildren or to her friends—or to anyone.
Selma sat down and motioned for the others to sit as well. Renee looked around the table. There was Captain Lee, of course, a ranger and experienced field intel operator. As soon as their eyes met Renee felt her heart skip a beat. She couldn´t allow herself to feel much, but had to admit he was handsome. Very handsome. She looked at the man sitting to Lee´s right. Grey was another senior operator, and Renee had worked with him on her first mission, her only mission so far.
The last person in the room was a young man she thought she might have seen before. She pried at her memory, and a few details came up. Yes, he used to live at the Hotel Cecilia, just like her. She didn´t think he was French although most of those who had been quartered there had been French survivors, refugees like her. She cocked her head. There was something about that young man. On the table in front of him stood a black box, nondescript and unassuming. The young man seemed to guard it possessively.
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