Birth of the Alliance

by Alex Albrinck

  Adam couldn’t resist a chuckle. “You said that this helps you with training as well?”

  “Exactly. The colors get deeper and darker as a person becomes stronger. Our new recruits have bands that are pure white until they receive their first batch of morange and zirple. The bands turn a light pink color after that, and gradually change as their Energy grows. When the band becomes red, they're able to perform the most basic skills. When it turns orange, they’re strong enough to perform very short-range teleportation. That’s when we need to be very careful.”

  “We’ve had a few people vanish, and that’s a long-standing fear of Arthur’s,” Adam noted. “He’s long feared teleportation, and makes use of it so rarely that you’d think he was a neophyte. Seeing those few new people vanish, never to reappear, has exaggerated his concerns. I believe those who vanished were neophytes developing faster than we suspected, men and women who teleported without realizing it, and who probably tried to go too far as a result.” He shook his head. “It’s a cruel fate.”

  “Agreed,” Will said his voice heavy. Though he had his issues with Arthur, he bore no specific malice toward other Aliomenti, and the thought that the Energy skills they developed had caused their demise was troubling. “I have a different fear relating to teleportation, and that’s detection. If I teleport, especially over a long distance, I’m using such a large amount of Energy that I’m certain Sebastian and others will be able to sense it. I use non-Energy means of transport now for that reason. Does Arthur still limit his travel to horses and ships?”

  Adam nodded. “The Aliomenti have developed carriages that don’t need horses. The carriages use machines that turn the wheels at a high rate of speed. That’s Arthur’s primary mode of transport. The machines are being added to all boats, and those ships make record times from port to port. It’s pretty impressive.” He arched an eyebrow. “I suspect your group has something similar.”

  Will nodded. “We do. It’s a useful bit of technology. I suspect there are humans in Europe who have seen those horseless carriages and have asked some interesting questions.” He smiled, and then his face grew somber. They’d reached the edge of the city without realizing it, the crowds and noise and smell of sweat and animal refuse fading, giving way to the fresher air and relative silence of the city outskirts. “We’ve had several people leave for their missions outside our primary location, but not report back after being gone for a standard length of time. In each of those cases, they’d traveled to Europe to do their work. Were they by chance captured by the Aliomenti?”

  Adam sighed, then nodded. “Arthur has set Victor, Sebastian, and Tacitus up to hunt down anyone who displays signs of Energy usage and who are not part of his group. A few have managed to develop the skills naturally, which means that the effort to eradicate all natural sources of zirple and morange didn’t succeed. Some of the people captured were part of the Aliomenti and decided to run; I suspect their programming was modified.” Both men smiled. “Some were part of your group. Tacitus is able to knock most of them out with his touch, though it takes a few minutes to take down the strongest. They’ve built prison-cell style rooms made of a material that mimics Tacitus’ ability. When you break a rule—and trust me, Tacitus will know if you do—you go to prison. It’s not the comical shunning of yesteryear, Will. It’s a nasty existence, lasting for years, where your Energy is stripped from you the entire time. A lot of people have died because of that loss. I guess the Energy becomes as much a part of us as the air we breathe and the food we eat; if we go without it for too long, we die.”

  Will winced. He’d suspected that the missing Alliance members were probably in the clutches of the Aliomenti, and Adam had confirmed that fact. While they all enjoyed their time “outside,” it was only in recent years that anyone failed to return to the Cavern within a few decades of their departure. They’d occasionally have to send some reminders, but those usually occurred at a time when the delinquent Alliance member was already starting to pack up to take their leave from their temporary home. Now, though, there was another possibility to consider for delinquent returners, and a possibly fatal one. “How are they capturing people?”

  “Mostly through Sebastian,” Adam said. “His ability is incredible. He can sense Energy far better than anyone else I’ve ever met, and what’s more impressive is that he can figure out whose Energy he’s sensing. It’s something he can use to find an unknown Energy user or an Aliomenti who's gone to join that accursed Will Stark. He works with Tacitus and Victor. Sebastian tracks them, and the trio surrounds the victim. It’s then a race of teleportation hops and Sebastian tracing the new location. The three of them have developed their teleportation skills and distances, and because of that they can out-hop anyone they meet. Eventually, the captive is cornered by them because they’re too weak to teleport anymore, or the victim finds himself in a crowded, human-filled area where teleportation options are limited. And then…” Adam smacked his hands together.

  “And then Tacitus comes in and immobilizes them,” Will said. “It’s not complicated, but it doesn’t need to be complicated to be effective. If they’re so strong at teleportation, they’re turning the chase into something they’ll win every time. We’ll need to make sure that our people are reminded to avoid crowds as much as possible, then, if they suspect they’re being targeted. What about weapons? Do they try to injure the people they’re tracking down?”

  “They only carry swords, but the preference is to bring the targets back unharmed,” Adam replied. “The idea is to discourage dissent by bringing the deserters back and putting them on display, devoid of Energy, to be mocked and jeered by others. They can’t do that if someone is dead. Swords enable cleaner injuries that can heal, and they’re easy to carry. Guns sometimes jam, they’re noisy, and they leave residue and gunpowder odors behind, things that could be noticed and traced if someone wanted to put in the effort. And…” He hesitated.

  Will thought about the Aliomenti, and the true driving force behind decisions. He thought about the fact that expansion beyond the North Village was thwarted when Arthur was presumed near death, but was pursued with great aggression once the ambrosia cured that affliction. A wry smile covered Will’s face. “Let me guess. The true reason the Aliomenti carry swords and are forbidden to use guns is that Arthur can’t shoot well, and he won’t allow others to show him up.”

  Adam chuckled. “Bugger couldn’t hit his own leg if he put the barrel directly on his skin and pulled the trigger.”

  Will laughed. “This is useful, Adam. Should we meet again in, say, forty years? 1865?”

  “Wait!” Adam said. “You haven’t told me how you were able to make those predictions.”

  “You can tell me when we meet up again,” Will replied. “It’s better if you figure it out; my telling you will make you think I’m a liar, and that what I say can’t be trusted. You have enough information; just don’t be afraid to accept the most logical explanation as truth, no matter how strange it might seem. And Adam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful. In 1865, I suspect things won’t be quite so peaceful here in the United States.”

  Will walked away, leaving Adam puzzling over yet another strange prediction.

  XII

  War

  1864 A.D.

  It would be one of the most gruesome battles in the history of war, leaving tens of thousands of men dead, thousands more injured with such severity that those suffering prayed for death. The raw carnage might teach future generations of the ugly realities of war and, perhaps, lead them to decisions different than those so often made.

  Yet the prospect made Will feel uncomfortable.

  In 1861, Will had watched and recorded shots fired upon Fort Sumter, a small outpost off the coast of South Carolina, an act most cited as the opening volley of a conflict most Americans in Will’s birth era referred to as the Civil War. Though the divide between North and South had grown over decades, over issues as diverse as slavery and t
ax policy, it had taken the election of a relative unknown from Illinois named Abraham Lincoln to serve as the final act of separation.

  States in the southern part of the country left the United States, having determined that their way of life was in dire jeopardy if they remained behind. The seceding states, following a pattern set by the young nation four score years earlier, banded together in a loose confederation aimed primarily at mutual defense against an expected attack from the North. Armies were massed, generals were named, and hundreds of thousands perished in the horrific fighting. It was a war far too personal; the enemy wasn’t a nameless, faceless resident of another land. The enemy was family; the war pitted father against son, brother against brother, nieces against uncles and grandparents. The deep divisions laid bare by the war, and the issues behind it, pained Will more than the gruesome injuries and slow deaths suffered by so many. Cuts and bullet wounds could heal, men could learn to live without a leg, but families wrenched apart would never heal.

  Gettysburg would prove one of the most gruesome of all battles in the war.

  He’d gotten useful information from the diary, which provided specifics describing exactly where the lines of battle would form and where the major decision makers would position themselves. Will would have footage of Grant and Lee and Pickett and others making their plans and adjusting based upon the actual events on the field of battle.

  None of their decisions this day would limit the casualty count. Indeed, many historians believed that the decisions made exaggerated the casualty count.

  As he positioned his now-invisible cameras and microphone near where General Lee would post his command, Will heard a gentle stream of flute-like Energy sounding in his mind, and he whirled around.

  Why was Hope here?

  She’d moved north decades earlier, following the movements of Will’s direct ancestors, and specifically those in greatest peril. Where time permitted, where the risk of loss of life were minimized, she’d return to the Cavern and share her wisdom with all there. For the most part, Hope stayed in isolation, earning her Shadow pseudonym over and over again for each new generation of Alliance members. If their paths crossed, Will and Hope spent time together, and despite years or decades apart, conversation would flow as if they’d last spoken the day before.

  Hope had been in Massachusetts for several decades, monitoring the situation in Boston as it related to his current most-at-risk ancestor, and he had no reason to think she’d be leaving. But her Energy signal didn’t lie. Hope was at Gettysburg. Today. The day of the great battle.

  His insides chilled. It could mean only one thing. At least one of his ancestors would be fighting in this place where so many died, where only the lucky few escaped death or grievous injury. Hope was here to ensure that luck had no chance to divert misfortune into the way of Will’s ancestor. After so many centuries, she’d found it to be a mission she could fulfill without any noticeable expenditures of Energy. Will doubted she’d be able to protect a soldier marching into a melee like this, with cannon and bullets and bayonets all around, without expending Energy. With the amount she’d likely need to expend, the Aliomenti were sure to notice and come to investigate. Bullets weren’t Energy-cheap to shield, nor were cannon shells. Making the soldier’s good fortune seem a matter of luck made it all the more difficult to perform well.

  Will closed his eyes, tuning out the distant rumble felt in the soles of his feet announcing the imminent arrival of thousands of soldiers. He ignored the stale air that would soon fill with the stench of gunpowder and blood and fear. He put aside, in his mind, the sounds of the screams he’d hear in mere hours, screams of men torn apart by bullets and cannonballs. In his mind, nothing existed but the flute-like sound of Hope’s Energy. He turned and faced the direction of the strongest signal and moved toward her.

  Hope was invisible, floating above the Union troops gathered below, and within those throngs stood a man who would become the great-great-great grandfather of Will Stark. Will felt a chill; would there be a chance for him to meet that man, to see him, to truly know the horrors he’d experienced and survived, long enough to continue the line of descendants who would bring Will into the world? Will himself would live through it, though he’d know he was in no mortal danger, a sensation none of the soldiers marching here could claim. His cameras and microphones would capture the sights and sounds; one day, he hope, they’d develop a “camera” that could capture and record other sensory data. Even without that technology, Will’s footage would put the most expensive documentary or feature film to shame by comparison.

  This wasn’t about competition, though. Will would win no awards, would set no box office records. He had little hope that these recordings would be experienced by more than a mere handful of the Alliance. He still believed it needed to be done.

  Even so, it was secondary to his new primary mission this day. He couldn't risk losing her, any more than she could risk losing that single Union soldier. He phased into invisibility and floated his way to her. He couldn’t see her, but could track her location by the strength of the Energy she emanated retaining her invisibility. As he floated closer to her, she became aware of his presence even through her concentration on the safety a solider below.

  Will? What are you doing here?

  He sighed. She knew of his project, to use his knowledge gleaned from future history books to be on hand and record the most momentous events in history. This is a rather important battle.

  Oh. She seemed to think about that for a time. Good thing I'm here to protect him, then.

  He nodded, though she couldn't see him. Physical habits didn’t die when invisible. Which one is he?

  He suspected she was pointing, even though she knew he couldn’t see the motion. After a brief pause, a small stream of Energy moved to touch one of the soldiers manning the cannon. The man’s head snapped up at the contact and he looked around, startled, but continued to help move the heavy load into place. Will was surprised. Most humans didn't sense Energy at all until those abilities were unlocked with zirple and morange. He paused, reliving memories of his time in the distant future with his children, who expressed a similar shock when he'd noticed Energy before his own Purge. Perhaps such sensitivity was a genetic trait?

  Will studied the man, still struggling to believe that the youngster was his own great-great-great grandfather. The man was only eighteen years old, and his uniform and boots were dirty and ragged after the many long, aggressive marches demanded by the Union generals. But even behind the dirt, even under the sweltering heat of the day, even amidst the overwhelming odor of cannon shot, the soldier’s face was resolute. He believed in his cause, and his suffering was a small price to pay to ensure victory for his side. Will felt a swell of pride.

  He turned in the direction Hope’s Energy, inwardly chuckling at the motion again. So how does this work in the field of battle?

  It's been a while, actually, she confessed. Generally I shield them with Energy so that bullets or cannon skirt around them. They've occasionally suffered a broken bone or a concussion, but nothing fatal. I'll do that again here today.

  I'm concerned that the Aliomenti are starting to reach a more critical mass in this country, Will replied. Be very careful with using a lot of Energy. Any usage could draw their—

  His thoughts were cut off as a sudden movement in the trees distracted him. He squinted… and realized with horror that Sebastian had arrived in Gettysburg.

  We have a problem. Sebastian just arrived.

  He could feel the anger rise in her. Give me a sword and I'll take care of him.

  Will chuckled. Much as I'd love to see that happen, we have to consider the big picture. The Aliomenti still don’t know you exist. Sebastian doesn’t know how to track you. The longer it takes for them to catch on, the better. Hope started to protest, but Will continued his though. It’s a positive thing for all of us, for the Alliance, to have someone as powerful as you able to operate without detection.

 
He could sense her dissatisfaction. So what do we do now, then? If I can’t use Energy, I can’t protect him.

  We need to get you out of here and still protect him. And do that without you using Energy.

  She snorted. In case you haven't noticed, my dear, I'm floating thirty feet in the air and invisible. It's a little late to be worried about using Energy.

  He shuddered. She was right, which meant Sebastian might well realize another powerful non-Aliomenti Energy user was here. Could he mask Hope’s presence somehow? I think I can distract him. This may be a case where we need to use a bit more Energy to get out of this situation.

  What are you proposing?

  He thought quickly. I'll blast some Energy into the midst of the soldiers, just enough to add a little confusion there. That should get Sebastian's attention, and he’ll suspect the Energy he’s sensing has been mine all along. I’ll go engage him. As soon as I head toward him, you're going to need to teleport your charge out of here. He needs to remember something exploding and waking up a distance away, unharmed. Hopefully, Sebastian—and the other Aliomenti, if they arrive—focus on me and you can do that without drawing too much attention.