by AJ Steiger
“Follow me.” He walks briskly down the hall.
I follow, head down, heart pounding. I can still feel the impression of his fingers on my wrist.
*
The Assembly Hall is packed. I hang in the back of the crowd as Nicholas ascends onto the stage. I spot Ian in the crowd and sidle up next to him. His face is still mottled with bruises, but the swelling has gone down. He gives me a quick smile. I can’t bring myself to return it. His smile fades. “Lain, are you—”
“Brothers and sisters!” Nicholas’ voice rings through the room. He spreads his arms. “During our last Assembly, I assured you that we would soon be called upon to fight. I realize that you are all impatient. And why not? You have endured injustice and cruelty for far too long. You have submitted to indignity after indignity at the hands of the system, and you want a chance to strike back. Of course. IFEN claims that violence is sickness. Our perspective is that violence is the only natural response to oppression. We do not destroy without meaning. But if someone pushes us, we push back. Hard.”
A few whoops of agreement greet this.
“Are you ready to push?”
More shouts of excitement.
Nicholas’ smile widens. “Then look, brothers and sisters, upon our next target.” An image appears on the screen—a gray, unremarkable-looking warehouse on a city street. The familiar shape of the CN Tower looms in the distance. A brief, puzzled silence falls over the crowd.
“That’s right,” Nicholas says. “IFEN is stretching its tentacles into this country, now, as well. We’ve received recent intelligence that IFEN has set up a database to help Canada collect information on its own citizens. What this means, my friends, is that IFEN now has an eye in Toronto… and it’s only a matter of time before that eye falls upon us. So we will attack first. We will hit them so hard that Dr. Swan himself feels it in the core of his cold, iron heart!”
The crowd erupts in cheering once more. My mouth is dry, my stomach clenched so hard it’s starting to cramp. My fault. My fault. The words sound inside my skull like a drumbeat. I made it possible for Zebra to break into Aaron’s mind. And now, using the information I got from him, the Blackcoats are going to set off more bombs in Toronto. The attack could plunge both Canada or the United Republic, or maybe both, into all-out war with the rebels.
Well, what did you expect? a voice inside me whispers.
“Only a small handful of soldiers will be chosen for this mission,” Nicholas continues. “But we will all be there in spirit. And so I ask—are you prepared to give everything, to stain your hands with the blood of our enemies? Are you ready—”
Another voice suddenly fills the Hall, emanating from unseen speakers. “Nicholas? If you don’t mind, I’ll host the rest of the Assembly today.”
Shocked whispers spread like ripples in a pond.
Zebra.
Nicholas stands, frozen. Of course, the if you don’t mind was just a formality. Zebra has delivered an order—but Nicholas seems reluctant to move. At last, he gives a small bow. “As you wish, my leader.” He retreats from the stage.
Zebra’s voice booms out, surrounding us: “I’m sure you all recognize my voice. I wish to address you personally today, because I have an important message.” He pauses. The silence swells, so deep and thick you could knead it like dough. “Recently, a certain video appeared on the Net. It was quickly removed by government censors, but we were able to download it first. I warn you, these images are disturbing. But they serve as indisputable proof that IFEN is not the civilized, humane organization it claims to be. You’re either with them, or you’re their enemy. And this is what they do to those they consider enemies.”
The screen lights up again, flickering dimly. I realize immediately that I’m looking at a recording of someone’s memory; I recognize the fuzzy edges, the shifting center of focus. It’s so dark that I have to struggle to make out the image—a room with bare wood walls. A small group of people is huddled in a corner, breathing fast. A loud pounding reverberates through the silence. “Open up,” says a low, cold voice. “This is your last warning. If you refuse to cooperate, we will use deadly force.”
A girl whimpers. The viewpoint swings to the left, focusing on her face. She clamps a hand over her mouth. Her face is sheet-white, eyes huge with terror. She’s no older than sixteen.
The door cracks open. A thin, faint ray of light falls in across the floorboards. An instant later, silhouetted forms burst into the room. I catch a glint off the face shield of a helmet, but it’s too dark to make out any details. The thunder of footsteps fills the air. Gunfire rattles. A scream pierces the din as people scramble for cover. A man flops to the floor as an attacker riddles him with bullets. Blood flies through the air and splatters the walls, black in the dimness.
A woman stands and whips out a pistol. Her face is pale and grim, her hair bright red threaded with gray, and in the beam of light falling from the open doorway, I recognize her with a cold shock. It’s Ian’s mother. Next to me, Ian makes a strangled sound.
She manages to shoot once before the intruders open fire. She falls against the wall, eyes wide and empty, blood staining her chest and hair. Another body falls on top of hers, but I can still see a lock of her hair shining. It’s almost the same color as Ian’s.
Then the viewpoint swings away, and someone is running down a hall, breathing in ragged sobs. A deep voice shouts, “After him!” More gunfire. More shouts and chaos.
The screen goes dark.
“What you just witnessed,” Zebra says, “was a raid. A group of would-be refugees in the URA were hiding out in a safe house on their way to the border. They weren’t Blackcoats or terrorists, simply people trying to escape into Canada. But to IFEN, that doesn’t matter. To them, all those who try to leave the country are traitors.”
I’m shaking. Ian’s face is deathly white, his mouth open. I touch his arm and whisper his name. He doesn’t respond.
Zebra continues: “Of course, no one in the URA will learn about that incident. It won’t be shown on the news. But IFEN’s intentions are clear. They are prepared to massacre anyone who defies them or speaks out against them. As Nicholas said, they are now reaching into Canada, trying to establish centers of power here so they can wipe us out. But we will not relent. This—my fellow Blackcoats—is our chance to seize back the land that is our birthright, to claim our place as free and equal citizens of America.”
There’s a brief silence. Then the crowd erupts in roaring cheers, pumping their fists into the air. They’re chanting his name: “Zebra! Zebra! Zebra!”
Nicholas stands at the foot of the stage, his expression dark and sullen. I turn to Ian, but he’s not there. I didn’t even see him leave.
The Assembly Hall suddenly feels hot and stuffy; the air is thick and suffocating. I can’t breathe. I turn and push my way through the crowd, into the hallway. Cool air washes over me, and still, I have to fight for every breath. “Ian!” I shout.
Ahead, I hear footsteps, and I start running. I catch a glimpse of him in the hallway ahead and call his name again, but he doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t even seem to hear me. I keep running until I manage to catch up to him and grab his arm.
He turns to face me. His face is pale and drawn beneath the bruises, his eyes haunted.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. The words feel limp and pathetic. “Sorry” is what you say when you borrow someone’s shirt and accidentally get a stain on it. There ought to be a different word for the death of someone’s only parent. But it’s all I can think to say. “I’m so, so sorry.”
His hand curls into a fist. “I knew her Type had started to slip. And then she vanished. But I never thought…” He trails off, eyes unfocused. His breathing quickens. “I need to go.”
“Where are you going?”
His expression is tight and grim. “To volunteer. I’m going on this mission, whatever it takes.”
My stomach turns to lead. “Ian, no. Listen to me. You’re grieving. You’r
e not thinking clearly—”
“We came here to fight, didn’t we?” His eyes are wild, white around the edges. “If we’re not willing to do that, what the hell is the point?”
“This won’t bring her back.” I grip his shoulders, willing him to understand. “You know people are going to get hurt, right? They’re going to set off a bomb in the heart of a major city. There’s no way they can do that without endangering innocent civilians. Is this what your mother would have wanted?”
He smiles. It’s a horribly bleak, empty, un-Ian-like smile. “Guess I’ll never find out.” He turns away and keeps walking. I’m left standing alone, feeling small and cold.
I think about Ian’s mother, her bloodstained hair and wide, empty eyes, and an ache splits me down the middle. Ian is never going to be the same. IFEN has reached into his soul and gouged a deep scar, broken something inside him. All the anger and frustration that’s been building inside me over the past few days suddenly coalesces into a single burning hot point in my center. I want to break something.
Ian and Steven. The two people I care about most are both going on this mission. And I’m going to be left behind.
I can’t lose both of them. I won’t. I have to do something. I start walking, a fire burning a hole in my gut. I need to find Rhee.
25
In the mess hall, I find Noelle mopping the floor. “Excuse me. Do you know where Rhee is?”
She looks up, blinking. “Um…” She bites her thumbnail. “During her free time, she’s usually in the training room.”
“I’ll check there. Thanks.”
When I reach the training room, I ease the door open and peer in. Rhee is there, shadowboxing. For a moment, I just watch her. She whirls, kicks and punches invisible opponents with the grace of a dancer. In a single fluid movement, she draws two long knives from sheaths at her hips and thrusts them through the air at an invisible opponent. Swish-swish-swish. The blades cut through empty space, slashing the imaginary enemy to ribbons. Then she spins them through the air, catches them, and slides them back into their sheaths. I wonder how many hours she had to practice to perfect that technique.
I clear my throat.
She spins to face me, every muscle tense and alert, and I’m reminded of a deer hearing the crackle of approaching footsteps.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just watching. That was really impressive.”
Her brows knit together, as if she’s confused by the praise. She looks away. “I should have been more on guard. I didn’t notice you standing there. If you were an enemy, I’d be dead by now.”
So serious. It occurs to me that I’ve never once seen her smile.
“Did you want to talk to me?” she asks.
“Yes.” I take a deep breath, bracing myself. “That mission, the one Nicholas was talking about… how many people are going?”
“Six,” she replies. “That’s all we’ll need.”
“And how many have already been chosen?”
“Five.”
My heartbeat quickens. Steven’s already joined, I’m sure, but I might be able to save Ian. “Can I…” I stop and take a breath. “Can I go? I mean—I’d like to volunteer.”
Her eyebrows lift a tiny bit. “You’ve never expressed any interest in volunteering before. What’s changed?”
“I want to help. That’s all.”
“You’re not very experienced in the field,” Rhee says, “and this is a crucial mission.”
“I want to prove myself.”
Her gaze drills into me. I feel like she’s scrutinizing my heart. “Well, your scores are excellent,” she says. “Shana and Joy have already been chosen, and they’re accustomed to training with you. It might be better to send you rather than someone they barely know. Are you prepared to die for the cause, if it becomes necessary?”
She asks it almost casually, like she’s checking off an item on a list. But at those words, something in my chest seizes up.
From the moment I decided to reveal the truth about IFEN, I knew that I’d never be safe again. I knew there was a strong chance that, somewhere along the line, I’d end up getting killed or mindwiped. I’ve been prepared to die for a long time. But to die for the Blackcoats? That’s another matter. Can I honestly say I’m ready for that, that I’d do it without hesitation?
For the Blackcoats, no. But to save Ian…
“Yes,” I say.
Rhee nods once. “The mission briefing will take place in the Assembly Hall at eight o’clock. Be there.” She walks out. I’m left standing alone in the training room as the full weight of my decision sinks into my bones. I might not come back from this alive.
But I have to do something. Ian’s protected me and helped me so many times. Now he needs protecting too, even if he might not see it that way. He’s in a state of rage and despair—he’s on the edge, and he’s about to fling himself off. This is the only way I can stop him.
If he finds out why I volunteered, he’ll be upset, maybe even furious. But it will be worth it, if I can just keep him alive.
*
When I get to the Hall, a handful of volunteers are already assembled. It’s strange to see the vast room mostly empty.
Shana sits on the floor with her arms crossed over her chest, and Brian—the curly-haired boy from Steven’s training group—stands next to her. Joy, the short, chubby girl with the braids, is there too. She perches on the edge of the stage, swinging her legs and eating a juicy red apple. My stomach drops when I see Steven standing on the other side of the room. Even if this is what he wants now, I hate the thought of him being thrown into the fray.
“Hello,” I say. My voice echoes through the stillness.
Joy waves at me. Her mouth glistens with apple juice. “Hi.”
Steven turns toward me, and the color drains from his face. “Lain? What are you doing here?”
I interlace my hands behind my back, feeling suddenly, oddly shy. “I volunteered.”
Shana arches an eyebrow. “Well, color me surprised. Maybe you’re not completely useless after all. You’re not going to piss yourself and start squealing like a scared little piggy once the actual mission starts, are you?”
I decide not to dignify that with a response.
Steven’s mouth works silently for a few seconds before he finally squeezes out a single word: “Why?”
I shrug with one shoulder. “I changed my mind. I decided it’s time I started participating.”
Anger flashes in his eyes, but beneath that, there’s a dark, growing void of fear. “Are you trying to prove some kind of point?”
My back stiffens. “No. I’m here for the same reason you are.”
“You don’t even believe in this war,” Steven says.
“You’re the one who kept telling me that it’s necessary to fight back,” I snap, losing patience. “Well, here I am. What’s the problem? Isn’t this what you wanted? Or did you just want me to agree with you?”
Brian rolls his eyes. “Can we keep the lover’s quarrel out of this?”
I wince. “We’re not…” The words die in my throat. My face burns. What are Steven and I? I don’t even know anymore.
“You’re not even qualified for this mission,” Steven says, ignoring Brian’s remark.
I grit my teeth. Now he’s just being petty. “I’m absolutely qualified for it. My training scores are probably better than yours.”
“And if you have to shoot at a real person instead of a holo? What then?”
“Enough, all of you,” Rhee snaps. “Lain has made her choice. It’s not your place or anyone else’s to tell her whether she should or shouldn’t be here.”
I look at her in surprise. Rhee is the last person I expected to jump to my defense.
Steven glares at her. “I’m not—”
“One more word from either of you, and you’ll be dropped from the mission.”
His face flushes, and he presses his lips together.
An ache fills my chest. A part of me can’t help feeling that Steven is right—I don’t really belong here. Ian is safe, I remind myself.
There’s a rustle of movement behind me. I turn… and freeze.
Ian stands in the doorway. “Am I late?” He smiles with one corner of his mouth. Then his gaze lands on me, and the smile falls away. The color drains from his face.
My mouth works silently for a few seconds before I find my voice. “What are you doing here? The mission is full.”
Rhee strides forward. “I heard from Zebra just a few minutes ago.” She touches her earpiece. “He said there’d be one more participant coming.”
“I made a case to him,” Ian says. He’s still pale, looking dazed. “He told me he didn’t need any more volunteers, but I said that I wanted more than anything to go on this mission. He made an exception for me.”
“We only really need six bombs to blow up the facility,” Rhee remarks. “But it couldn’t hurt to have an extra, in case one of them fails.”
I feel strangely empty. My volunteering was all for nothing. I couldn’t save him, after all. And it’s too late for me to change my mind now—not that I even want to. The two people I care about most are going. If it fails, I don’t want to be left alone. I force a smile onto my face. “Welcome to the team.”
“I don’t understand,” he whispers.
“We’ve already been through this,” Rhee says flatly. “Lain has made the decision to join this mission, and she’s staying. That’s that.”
Ian sways on his feet, eyes wide. He looks like he might collapse. And for a moment, I almost regret my decision to come.
But maybe if I’m there, I can help protect him… and Steven, too. I can’t lose either of them.
Rhee walks to the base of the stage and stands, facing us. She pulls out a remote control and presses a button. The enormous wall-screen winks on, displaying a mazelike array of hallways, certain spots marked with green X’s. A map. “This is the facility.” She waves the remote control, manipulating a holo cursor until it hovers in the center of the screen. “This area is the database. We’re going to be planting bombs in six different locations around its perimeter. We’ll each carry one. We’ll go in through this entrance, here.” She points. “Then we’ll split up, which will reduce our chances of being taken down by guards. Though, if all goes according to plan, the building will be empty. There’s a station up front where the guards monitor the interior and the surrounding area by camera; we have a contact there who’s supposed to slip them a sedative. Another contact will hack in and temporarily disable the security system. All we have to do is get in, plant the bombs, and get out before anyone realizes what’s happened. Just like a training drill. The bombs will be detonated as soon as we’re safely out of range. They’re very powerful, so even if we don’t all make it to the target, we should still be able to take out the database.”