Dragon_Bridge & Sword_The Final War

by JC Andrijeski

  I didn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything apart from those sparking lights.

  There’d been a firefight here all right. We’d just missed it.

  “Gaos,” Dalejem muttered.

  I followed his eyes to the cafeteria itself. Under the stark lights of that long space, even more bodies lay broken among tables. Part of that room was on fire, in addition to having more blown out light tubes and the starker contrast of those bodies on the white floor and tables. An orange emergency light rotated in one corner.

  No sprinklers appeared to be going off and I didn’t hear any actual alarm pulses echoing through the space, but clearly security measures had been activated.

  They just hadn’t done any good.

  The alarm could be silent, of course. If so, I didn’t feel anyone coming.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Dalejem burst out. “Gaos.”

  I felt his emotions twisting out from under him.

  Looking at him in alarm, I realized some of that was from the loss of light, from me draining him. Stepping closer to him at once, I wound back into him with my aleimi, giving him some of that light back.

  “Don’t,” he began, his voice gruff as he glared at me.

  He started to push me off, but I didn’t let him.

  “I don’t need it,” I said, gripping his arm. “I don’t need it now, and you know it. Whatever this is, it’s over, okay?” Not waiting for him to acknowledge my words, I laid my palm on his chest, giving him more light, in a bigger, denser burst.

  I felt him react at once and clenched my jaw, watching his face for signs that it was working.

  Pain coiled around him again, around both of us. It slid into my aleimi, mixing with his emotional reaction to all of that death.

  “Gaos,” he exhaled. “…I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Calm down, okay?” I murmured.

  He nodded, avoiding my eyes.

  I felt his pain worsen as his jaw clenched, right before he caught hold of me with his hands. He was breathing harder then. I pretended not to notice how much heat came off his light in those few seconds, and I didn’t look down at his body either. When I glanced at his face that time, he bit his lip, wrapping his fingers around me tighter.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  I didn’t answer, fighting not to react to what I felt on his light.

  When I’d fed him enough to see his expression start to smooth, I took my hand off his chest. It wasn’t really enough, but it would have to be enough for now. I wanted to get the fuck out of there, despite what I’d just said to him.

  I also wasn’t sure if I could deal with sharing any more light with him right then, not until both of us were thinking more clearly.

  We’d both just gotten another major emotional shock, which wasn’t helping.

  My brain knew all of this, even as my own light continued to struggle with the smell and light remnants of death all around us.

  He released me somewhere in that, more heat pluming off his light.

  I didn’t let go of his arm, though.

  Instead I gripped it tighter, walking him around and over and through the downed bodies filling the long space, aiming my feet for the smaller corridors on the other side. Dalejem followed me wordlessly, still holding the gun, gripping it with white knuckled hands.

  In the corridor on the other side, more bodies lay by the walls and a few in the middle. I saw lights hanging down, sparking, more burns from gun blasts.

  “Try to reach Chan,” I told Dalejem, glancing back at his face.

  He was staring at bodies as we passed, still gripping the rifle. His light snaked around him strangely; he still felt more depleted than not.

  “Jem?” I said levelly. I waited, trying to get him to look at me. When he did a few seconds later, I made my voice stronger. “I don’t think our signal’s going to matter now. Call Chan, okay? Find out where they are. We need to know how wide this is.”

  I watched his eyes clear slightly, which is what I’d been going for.

  When he nodded that time, the infiltrator’s cloak had returned somewhat to his light. I felt him trigger the headset, right before he routed the signal to include me.

  I kept my eyes on the corridor, still feeling ahead carefully from behind the shield as I walked us around bodies. Dalejem gently took his arm back right as someone on the other end picked up, surprising both of us.

  I don’t think I’d realized until then that I’d expected all of them to be dead.

  “Dalejem? Where’s the fucking Bridge?” Chandre’s voice was harsh.

  Dalejem sent her a snapshot of our location, a millisecond of pause before speaking.

  “Where are you?” he said.

  “Northeast entrance… the main…”

  I heard a lot of noise in the background. Gunshots. Impact concussions, big enough to be grenades, at least. Definitely automatic weapon fire. Shouting.

  “Where’s the fucking Bridge?” Chandre repeated. “Dalejem?”

  “I’m here,” I snapped, my voice shockingly loud in the lifeless corridor. I realized I was shouting to compensate for what I heard on the other side of that line.

  “Who or what are you engaging right now, Chan? Who’s firing?”

  “It’s him,” she said. “That fucking manipulator you told us about. The monster who looks like the Sword. With the muzzle over––”

  “Disengage!” I said, shouting the word. “Disengage! Right the fuck now! I mean it! He’s wiped out this whole level of the compound!”

  I felt Chandre’s frustration worsen. “The President thinks we should try to take him down now, before he––”

  “Fuck the President! She’s not qualified to make that decision!”

  “She’s giving the orders,” Chandre said. “To the humans, at least––”

  “Are you a fucking worm?” I snarled, coming to a stop in the corridor. “Take control of her! Now!” At Chandre’s hesitation, I raised my voice. “Remember Syrimne, Chan?”

  My hands curled into fists at her silence, even as my light snapped out in a hard arc. “Do you seriously think that crippled remnant of a human army has a chance in fucking hell right now against a manipulator more advanced than my goddamned husband?”

  Waiting a bare half-second for her to hear my words, I snapped, “Disengage! Right now! That’s a direct fucking order! Or I swear to the gods I’ll kill you myself!”

  Silence.

  I know the pause was short. Maybe a second.

  Maybe less.

  Even so, I found myself holding my breath as the automatic rifle fire continued in the background, as I heard gasps, screams, cracking and snapping noises my mind wanted to turn into skulls and spines being shattered. Guns exploding in hands.

  I bit my lip until I tasted blood, fighting to block out the image of all of those people being killed on my watch.

  Being killed because of me.

  I was about to start screaming into the link again when Chandre’s voice rose, sounding harder, more determined.

  “Understood, sir. Declan and I are taking control of the humans’ lights now. We’ll have to force them to pull back. Including the President.” Chan paused, her voice meaningful. “She’s not going to be happy about that, sir. At all.”

  “I don’t give a fuck for happy,” I retorted, even as relief spiraled off my light. “Do you have an exit? I’m coming, but don’t wait for us.”

  “Yes, sir,” Chandre said, her voice more sure. “We should be able to get most of them out. Well… unless he chases us. But he didn’t attack until we did. He was trying to break down the gate to get out. He turned on the guard when they fired on him.”

  I nodded, once, feeling a tentative hope fight to bloom in my chest.

  “Good.” Rubbing my forehead, I struggled to control my light. “Prioritize Brooks. Get her out of there. Alive. I want you on the run in the next five fucking seconds, with as many of them as you can take with you. We’ll get t
here as soon as we can. I’ll do my best to distract him if he tries to take chase––but I want you on the move.”

  That time, Chandre gave a hard ping of acknowledgment.

  “Yes, sir. Understood, sir. Right away.”

  The line clicked off.

  I looked at Dalejem.

  He looked pale, but he nodded grimly when he caught the other end of my stare.

  I felt his flicker of agreement at what I’d done.

  Fear continued to want to slide off my light, sparking and coiling around my body in erratic waves. It occurred to me that the excess light was ratcheting up my emotional reactions, too, if in a different way than what the lack of light had been doing to Dalejem. Fighting to control those increasingly violent waves of light, I began to jog down the corridor.

  I didn’t look back, knowing Dalejem would follow.

  When it hit me we wouldn’t be meeting Dragon around the next corner, I broke into a full-fledged run, pretty much the instant I had my light more or less under control.

  I had to get to them.

  I had to get to the others before Dragon wiped out every last remnant of what remained of the United States military command, as well as Brooks and Chandre and the majority of my infiltration team.

  I’d done this, my mind kept repeating.

  I’d done this.

  This was my fault.

  Whatever happened here, it was all my fault.

  35

  NO ONE

  “WHERE IS SHE?” Balidor said.

  His voice came out hard, strangely stripped.

  Even so, Chandre heard the emotion there, the denser reactions he normally would have hidden from her, well past where her sight could have ventured.

  She felt her own anger return as she replied.

  “She is sleeping, brother,” she said, blunt. “Where she should be. I would have knocked her out myself, had she refused.”

  “Sleeping?” Balidor seemed about to say something, then didn’t. “Did she go to see the medical techs, at least?”

  “She refused. Well,” Chandre amended. “She had the one wound dressed, but that is all. She did that between ops.”

  “Ops,” he muttered, anger returning to his voice. “And none of you noticed the fucking Bridge leaving your compound in the early hours of the morning?” Not seeming to expect an answer, he snapped, “Where’s brother Dalejem? I’d like a word with him.”

  “He is also retired for the night.” Sighing in a series of clicks, Chandre felt some of the fight go out of her light. “Truthfully, the two are borderline traumatized, brother. I think a few days before a formal debrief might be necessary, especially given what this Dragon creature did to the Bridge. As far as I know, she has refused to talk about that end of things with anyone. Well, apart from brother Jem, perhaps.”

  “Did he really look so much like the Sword?” Balidor said.

  There was a silence. Then Chandre let out a softer series of clicks.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  “Is there a working theory for this?” Balidor said.

  “None as yet. Apart from the obvious.”

  “A clone?”

  “Yes. Or perhaps a biological brother, although that seems less likely.”

  “A twin you mean?” Balidor’s voice held incredulity. “Has anyone discussed such a thing with sister Tarsi?”

  “No,” Chandre said, sighing. “Truthfully brother, we only just arrived here, and the plane ride from Colorado consisted primarily of addressing the wounded and speaking with the humans who traveled with us, including President Brooks.”

  “You were in those meetings?” Balidor said. “With Brooks?”

  “No. I provided security.” Hearing the silence this produced, Chandre added, “The plane was military. Equipped with a separate compartment which was used by the Bridge, Talei, President Brooks, and several in her cabinet to conduct private talks. The President was not at all happy with the Bridge’s decision to usurp her authority at the underground facility. Given that she had many more people with her, including seers, I felt it wise to provide a secondary level of security over the room.”

  “I see.”

  Chandre felt the fatigue catching up with her, straining her patience.

  “I was asked to do it,” she said, her voice harder. After a bare pause, she found herself blurting her next words. “Am I being cut out, brother? By the Bridge? If so, I wish to be told as much. Formally, I mean.”

  “Cut out?” Balidor’s voice held puzzlement. “What does this mean, sister?”

  Feeling her jaw harden more, Chandre crossed her arms.

  She knew it might not be entirely appropriate, bringing this up with the head of the Adhipan rather than with Alyson herself, particularly during an official report. But she’d already started this, she might as well finish it.

  “It is subtle,” Chandre said, making a more concessionary gesture with one hand as she tempered her voice. “But I feel it. I am no longer being allowed as close to the Bridge. I am not in her confidence as I once was.” Pausing, she let her voice grow more blunt. “Is this because of Bangkok? What happened on that wall?”

  Balidor fell silent.

  “Sister,” he said after another pause, clicking softly. “I think this is not an appropriate area for me to comment.”

  “Yet I am asking you,” Chandre said.

  “The Sword indicated such a thing, yes,” he said, sighing.

  “The Sword is no longer here,” Chandre said. “Is this your doing? Wreg’s? Or hers?”

  Balidor exhaled another sigh.

  For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer her at all.

  “I am not asking merely out of hurt feelings, brother,” Chandre said. “She has no one around her. No one who knows her in any way that is personal. The seers her husband had me bring out here…” Letting her voice turn to a growl, she blurted, “…He seems to have chosen them on the basis of their inconvenience to his marriage, which is not benefitting her now. She chose her people with operational needs in mind only––”

  “As she should have,” Balidor said, his voice warning.

  “You know what I am saying, brother!” she snapped. “She has no one here, Balidor. No one. And she was just raped, less than seventy-two hours ago! She will scarcely even admit it occurred. There is no one in her confidence here.”

  The silence deepened.

  Balidor seemed to make up his mind then, even as he clicked under his breath.

  “Hers,” he said finally, his voice reluctant. “It was her call, Chandre, to distance you from her command. So I cannot overrule her wishes. But you should discuss this with her directly, sister, particularly given the circumstances you just referenced. I suspect it is far less about the two of you than it is out of respect for her husband.”

  He paused. Then, even more of the formality dropped from his voice.

  That time, Chandre thought she could hear a denser grief.

  “Your concerns are noted,” he said. “More than noted. It is why I wished to speak with her tonight. I also wanted her permission to tell Jon and some of those she is closer to what happened. Truthfully, I may be forced to tell them anyway.”

  Sighing, as if he were already imagining what the Bridge would say to him if he were to do that, Balidor added,

  “As for you, you might still be able to… be there for her. As a sister, I mean. If she allows it. But she might not allow it, given her husband’s feelings, as I said. I do not know that she will be wholly rational about that. Further, she might be avoiding discussing the incident with anyone, from what you are saying. If so, her husband might simply provide a convenient excuse.”

  Chandre felt her fingers tighten around her arms.

  She didn’t speak.

  Gazing out the window of the four story building in which she now stood, she looked out over rolling hills, green from the monsoon rains that still covered this side of the country.

  They’d landed at the Air F
orce strip in Langley, Virginia, less than two hours earlier.

  A jeep ride later and Chandre and the rest of their infiltration team, the Bridge included, now hunkered behind heavily-fortified walls on a long stretch of forested land owned by the United States government. Or maybe it would now be more accurate to say it was defended and claimed by what remained of that government.

  “Understood,” she said finally.

  Nodding absently to a few more things the Adhipan leader said, she barely noticed when he ended the communication minutes later.

  Still, as she looked out that window, she recognized that she was once again alone.

  Once that aloneness really sank in, Chandre felt herself fighting tears.

  She didn’t know which of them she even cried for.

  36

  ANNIVERSARY

  I COLLAPSED BACKWARDS on the bed, wincing at the creak of springs as I came to rest in the sagging middle of the ancient mattress. Adrenaline continued to make my mind run in ragged loops. I knew I wouldn’t sleep, not anytime soon.

  I also knew I needed to. Desperately, by then.

  Dragon hadn’t chased us.

  He’d let us go.

  I’d heard him laughing in my head as our teams beat a retreat away from the Rocky Mountains. A cold wind blew wisps of dry snow at us as we left, a harsh if somewhat unseasonable burst of weather that would have made us easy to track had he wanted to pursue.

  By then, the sun had been coming up.

  I remembered crouching in the back of a military truck, wincing against the stinging, dry flakes, feeling them cut my skin.

  That laughter filled my head the whole time.

  I could hear it still.

  But he’d let us go. I don’t know why he did, but he did.

  Once we’d driven to what remained of the Air Force Academy outside of Colorado Springs, the decision was made to go east, to a large compound that still existed in Virginia.

  We’d landed in Langley approximately six hours later.

  About half of that time hadn’t been in the air; it had consisted of refueling, collecting refugees, tending to the more seriously wounded. It also consisted of listening to Brooks scream at me and threaten me with sight restraint collars––among other things.