“Excellent,” Iathan remarks as he walks over to the largest console table and leans his hands on the sleek black metal. “Any ideas, then, on how best to proceed?”
“I’ve spent the past hour studying different Rift sites on the Spiradael Earth, looking for ideal entry locations,” Levi begins. “There are only two Rifts on that Earth.” Levi opens his arms and pushes them together, causing two images to illuminate above all of us, side by side. “One site is in a desert. I would eliminate that one for obvious reasons.” He makes another motion with his fingers outstretched and flicks them backward so that now, only one picture is highlighted. “This site is in a forested area. I say we Rift in here, about a klick away from the base, and try to grab a Spiradael from the reserves. If they operate like we do, there will be a large contingent of troops around the permanent Rift and then another fifty or sixty holding positions closer to their command, guarding it from Immigrants who might slip through the first line of defense, but they will be far more spread out.”
I fold my arms and study the photo, which looks like it comes from a drone image. “We can’t be sure they operate like we do. If there are only two Rifts on that Earth, there’s a chance that there are far fewer Spiradael Citadels.”
“They do not operate like human Citadels. I can tell you that much from our intelligence work,” Iathan says.
“Can you elaborate?” I ask, though I don’t know why I should have to.
Iathan looks momentarily caught up in a memory. I don’t think he’s withholding, but there is something about what he knows of this race that troubles him. He clears his throat—and presumably the memory. “They do not hide. They stand and wait at the Rift’s mouth. There are some reserves, but in terms of operations, they do not bother with subterfuge. They’ve also had years and years to establish a Citadel race. Which, unfortunately, means we do not know the exact numbers. It is intel we were never able to accurately collect, and Edo conveniently left out actual troop numbers in her coded files. I can assure you, though, there are many.”
“Could you maybe take an educated guess?” I ask.
Iathan knits his brows together and strokes his beard. “Anywhere from thirty to fifty thousand?”
Jesus . . .
Levi and I look at each other across the table. This is not good. I keep forgetting the scope of this. But it’s hard for me to imagine there are so many others like me, and even harder to imagine a war based on those numbers.
However, as I turn it over in my head some more, a glimmer of hope breaks through. “But they won’t all be there,” I say. “That’s impossible. Too many Citadels at any given Rift site can actually be less effective. It’s difficult to coordinate a thousand troops. It’s much easier to command a couple hundred.”
“True,” Ezra interjects to my surprise. Then again, he knows a lot about human Citadels from me. He knows about the other Citadel races from Edo’s files and through extensive research here in the Roone world, and he also probably knows more than I do about the altered Roones. He’s hardly an expert, but he’s a guy who loves data. As unlikely as it seems, given how new he is to this game, he’s got valuable insight. “But human Citadels are stronger and more capable than Spiradael Citadels. They would need more troops on the ground to accomplish what fewer of you can do.”
“Well, then, I suppose the question goes back to numbers,” Iathan says bluntly. “Do you want a full unit to escort you, or a simple strike force?”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a single hand. “You want us to bring Karekins along? I don’t know about that.”
“Hear him out, Ryn,” Levi says in a tone that sounds more like a command than a request. Up until now I have been in charge, but I have to admit that Levi is great at this kind of strategy. He has a kind of sixth sense about enemy troop movement that I don’t possess. As much as it irritates me, I have to loosen the reins of my control a little bit and let Levi do what he’s good at. Ego has no place when lives are on the line. And honestly, the idea of having Karekins with us had never dawned on me. But why wouldn’t they come along—or, at least, why wouldn’t Iathan assume they’d be coming along? I don’t like it—don’t trust it—but I can trust Levi when it comes to something like this, so I nod my head and look at Iathan.
“Yes, it would be unwise to dismiss our offer of help so quickly. As you’ve seen, the Karekins—our Karekins—are much different from the ones you have faced. They are not mindless drones, drugged out of their minds. They are strong and capable, and should you encounter more than just a few Spiradaels, they could be the difference between you getting out of there alive or being taken prisoner.”
“And they will concede command to us? Without question?” I have to ask.
“I think perhaps that is a question better left to our Karekin general.” Iathan looks over to one of the Karekins standing in the room and beckons him over. I listen as he explains my trepidation in Roonish, and the large man nods his head.
“Citadel Ryn Whittaker, my name is Vlock,” the Karekin leader says in Roonish. I am surprised by the gentle cadence of his voice, the soft, lilting rise and fall of his words. It’s the total opposite of the guttural screeches I’ve heard while fighting a column of Karekins in Battle Ground. I give Vlock my full attention, and he continues. “I am in charge of the Karekin troops. I understand your reluctance to trust us. All you know of my kind is violence and brutality, but I can assure you that we are nothing like the Settiku Hesh that infiltrate your Earth. We have all fought, and many of us perished, in an attempt to ensure that what happened to you would never come to pass. We failed in that mission. Please be assured that we will do everything in our power to address that grievous wrongdoing. My men will be yours to command. They are good fighters, and loyal to our common cause.” Vlock pauses and relaxes ever so slightly before speaking on. “I stopped apologizing long ago for the actions of our rogue brothers. I had to, because the guilt and the shame of it made us weak. But please do not condemn us for the actions of our misguided brethren. They are hardly men anymore. They have no free will. They have no morality. It has been stripped away by the enemy. You can trust us, human Citadel. We will protect you with our lives.” Vlock steps back, and I must admit I am moved by his speech.
It has been hard being around these Karekins. They have been mute ghosts during my time here, easy to dismiss and subconsciously ignored for all the reasons that Vlock spoke of. But they are victims, too. Just like me. I think about crazy Audrey, who’s still in a coma back at Battle Ground. She’s a Citadel, just like me, and we fought on different sides when the truth came out about ARC. Sadly, this is no different.
“Very well,” I say in both English and Roonish. “However, I do believe that a small strike force would be more effective in this situation.”
“I agree,” Levi says. I bet he learned Roonish last night. It would have been the most strategic move and I could tell when Vlock was speaking that Levi was paying attention to more than just his deferential body language and tone. “Let’s bring five of your best men and the two of us. That should be more than enough to fight off even a large force of Spiradaels if necessary. Though hopefully it won’t be necessary. Our goal is to capture a Spiradael and Rift back immediately, before anyone knows he’s been taken.”
“And me. I’m going,” Ezra says. Levi swallows a chuckle between clenched lips and I throw him a dirty look before turning to Ezra.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Ezra. If I’m worried about keeping you safe, I won’t be able to fight as well.”
Surprisingly, Ezra starts talking in Arabic, effectively cutting everyone else out of the conversation. “‘inna dhahib.”
I’m going.
“We shouldn’t be discussing this here,” I answer in Arabic.
“Please, stop treating me like I’m incapable of defending myself. Like I’m some sort of fragile thing that will break. It is beyond condescending.”
Shit. This is dangerous territory. If I say wha
t I really want to say—that he is fragile, that he will break when a Spiradael Citadel tries to slice his guts out with a hair braid—I’ll sound like an emasculating asshole. However, if I stroke Ezra’s ego, he might actually think he has half a chance against these guys. He doesn’t. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say reluctantly.
“There are soldiers all over the world, an infinite number of worlds, that actually fight without superpowers,” Ezra counters. And now, he’s just kind of pissing me off. Clearly after last night he feels like he has something to prove, to me, to Levi, to himself, but the Spiradael Earth is not the place to do it.
“Well, let’s be clear about something,” I say, putting a single fist on my hip. “Every truly good soldier knows where his strengths are, and where he or she can be most useful to the team. And a big part of that is that they’ve trained to be soldiers. To grow those strengths. Your strengths are not on the battlefield. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is. You are, however, invaluable, irreplaceable even, when it comes to computing.”
“I don’t care where my strengths are,” Ezra says.
At this, Iathan interjects, “I dislike this foreign banter intensely. Speak English,” he commands, which saves me from lashing out at Ezra for being a petulant child.
Ezra ignores him, though, and continues in Arabic. “I am not going to be left behind again. No way. What if you die on this mission? Am I supposed to trust that these Roones will get me back home? Do you trust them absolutely? Because think about it: I could very well spend the rest of my life here if you don’t.”
“Have they tried to keep you here against your will? Have they ever told you that you couldn’t leave?” Ezra looks at Iathan and then back at me.
“No.”
“You’ve already jumped far more times than Levi and me. On one hand you’re totally capable of defending yourself, but on the other, what? You’re afraid of the Multiverse now? Of being able to get home? Which is it?” I lean in and look at him directly, intently, last night’s argument still tender like a newly stitched wound. “Because you can’t have it both ways, Ezra.”
“I’m going,” he says in English.
“You’re actually not. And right now you’re doing more harm than good. This is not personal. I’m sorry if you feel my command decision is pussy-whipping your masculine sensibilities, but the fact that we’re still talking about this is proof enough that you don’t belong on a combat mission. So, no.” Ezra’s eyes narrow at me, but he’s reading the room. He knows that there is no possible argument he could offer that would actually make any kind of sense.
Whenever Levi shit-talks Ezra he calls him the Golden Boy or the Wonder Kid. I’m beginning to understand that that isn’t how Levi sees Ezra, but rather how Ezra sees himself. He’s gorgeous, he’s a music and math prodigy, he had already finished his undergraduate degree at MIT, and he’s only eighteen. He is, in a word, amazing. But I’m beginning to see that Ezra, for all his brilliance—or because of his brilliance—isn’t used to the word no.
He’s . . . spoiled.
“Whatever,” Ezra says, shaking his head. I expect him to leave at that point, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, angrily, in a sulk.
Like so many other things, I don’t have time to worry about that right now.
“Okay,” Levi says with determination. Like me, he’s not interested in this drama. Right now, he is all mission. “Let’s get squared away. Can we all agree to adjust our Rift entry location exactly to here,” Levi says, pointing to an outcropping of trees. “Once we’ve arrived we can send out the drones and get a full picture of how to proceed on the ground.”
“You have drones?” Iathan asks with a lick of suspicion in his tone. “And you’ve managed to calibrate your QOINS to Rift in with that kind of precision?”
“We do have stealth drones,” I answer, “and yes we can Rift in to an exact location, since you have the exact coordinates to that Earth in your system along with these topographical maps.” There is an uncomfortable silence as the Karekins look at one another warily and then back at me. “It’s tech we picked up on our travels.”
For the first time I see Iathan’s congenial mask slip. He knows we have something valuable, and like a child with restricted access to a playground, he doesn’t like it. His blue eyes dart back and forth and his lips purse as he grips the sides of the console tight enough for his knuckles to whiten. Iathan is a seasoned politician, and likely much older than he looks, certainly over a century. He is also a man who understands the value of patience. The mask slides back on and he gives me the slickest of smiles.
“I’d very much like to know more about them.”
“And I think we need to focus on the mission. We can talk when we return.”
“Very well, I look forward to having a discussion of that nature as soon as you get back,” Iathan emphasizes. There’s no mistaking that as a threat. Now I need a plan for this as well. How much to share, how much to hold back. I look briefly at Levi—he needs to be part of the discussion. Maybe we’ll get a chance to speak when we’re on the Spiradael Earth.
“I have a few things that need attending to,” Iathan says suddenly. “You can firm up your entry and exit strategies. Just make sure to brief Vlock and his team. I’ll meet you back here shortly to see you off.” Iathan walks away. I don’t love that all my gear is back in my bedroom, but I also have a sliver of pity for anyone who would dare attempt to use it. The Roones aren’t human and I get the sense that Doe could do some serious damage to protect the tech.
Ezra leaves as well, without a word. I watch his back disappear down the cement archway. I feel us cracking apart. Last night feels like ash in my mouth. I can’t say he’s wrong, about any of it. I see all his points and they are valid.
They’re just not valid enough.
Levi walks over and stands close, but we are hardly alone. There are over a dozen Roones and Karekins still present, including Vlock and the strike force. I assume Levi’s going to ask about sharing the SenMach tech. Instead, he asks, “Ça va?” I just nod my head.
“There’s trouble between you and Ezra,” he states, remaining in French so we’re not overheard. But it’s not really a question. He knows.
I slide my tongue over my teeth. “It’s complicated. Relationships are complicated. But they are also not a priority. Not today.”
Levi reaches over and gently squeezes the top of my arm. “Je suis desolé.” I give him a grateful smile because I think he means it. I think he actually is sorry that I’m upset.
“Let’s just nail this, okay?” I say. “This has to be precise. We all have to work together and anticipate every possible contingency so that there are backups for our backups.”
“Roger that.”
About an hour later, Levi and I have collected our things from our rooms, and are waiting in the war room for everyone who will be going with us and those who want to wish us good luck. Ezra comes in first, wearing a bulky sweater and sweats. He looks rough. I know he’s mad and hurt. I hate having to leave with things the way they are between us. He keeps his distance from me, with his back hunched and his eyes looking at everyone and everything going on except for me. I walk up to him and he takes a small step back.
“Just go,” he tells me sadly. “Don’t make a big deal out of it or else I’m gonna feel like you’re not coming back.”
“Ezra,” I sigh, moving once again toward him as he takes another giant step backward. It’s clear he doesn’t want any affection from me and I’m sure as hell not going to embarrass myself any further by demanding it. I walk away from him, toward the bigger group.
Iathan finally walks in, his silent lackeys moving like ghosts behind him. Vlock and his soldiers are ready, too. I nod respectfully in their direction and he gives me a similar nod in return.
“So,” Iathan says loudly, “this is a momentous occasion indeed. The first joint mission between the human Citadels and Karekins. It’s quite an achievement.”
Are we all about to get a slow-clap pep talk? I don’t have the patience for that kind of thing on a good day, and this is not a good day. More important than my personal shit, though, today is all about the mission. Nothing else. Before Iathan can continue I say, “Roger that,” in a tone that makes it clear that a speech right now would not be welcome.
Iathan reads the look on my face and smiles deferentially. “I assume you are going to be the ones to call up the Rift with your new mysterious technology,” he wonders out loud, and I am grateful that we can just get on with it.
“Affirmative,” I say as I tighten the straps of my much lighter pack. Just taking the essentials with us today. “We’re ready. Everybody squared away?” I ask in English and Roonish, ignoring Iathan’s pointed comment. The others voice their assent. “Great, we’ll see you soon,” I say, specifically in Ezra’s direction. He gives me the tightest of nods. I tighten the pack on my shoulders and make eye contact with Levi. He’s ready. “Rift to Spiradael Earth with Citadels. Use the exact coordinates Levi has pinpointed on the satellite map,” I say, though purposefully not into my cuff. I don’t want Iathan to make that connection, not yet. Still, Iathan gives me an incredulous, yet speculative, look.
There’s no mistaking now that I can hear the Rift before it opens. It sounds like a sustained piano chord played underwater. I unconsciously hum along, and I can feel Levi’s eyes on me. I shrug. The Rift opens, a shining emerald doorway, sized exactly proportionate to the space we are in. As we planned, the Karekins walk in first and Levi and I take up the rear. I try not to think too hard about what’s on the other side. I let my own personal drama fall away like a woolen cardigan on a blistering-hot day. I cannot let what happened last night distract me from what’s coming next. I push my shoulders back and walk though. And then I hear something else, a grunt, maybe a whoosh, someone saying or screaming something. I look behind me in the green expanse and there, nose-diving like a pro, is Ezra.
If the Spiradaels don’t kill him, I just might.
The Rift Frequency Page 29