Creators (A Contributor Trilogy prequel novella)

by Nicole Ciacchella

  Mei staggered over to a chair and hugged herself, her face stricken. "I knew he was arrogant, but this…"

  Scanning through a few other files, Liang felt the burning anger ice over in his veins. "He knew he couldn't stop this, so he was trying to do everything he could to secure Zhang's position. He wanted to make sure that we weren't left out when the move to the domes became inevitable."

  Biting her lip, Mei lifted horror-filled eyes to his. "Are you trying to tell me he was looking out for us?"

  "In his own twisted way, yes. Though, naturally, he was also looking out for himself."

  "What are we going to do?"

  "What can we do? We need to destroy everything."

  "What? You can't be serious!" she cried, jumping up.

  "I am. We can't leave this here for someone else to find, Mei. But this…this one I'm keeping." He turned the reader off and slid the chip from it, looking around for somewhere to conceal it. Finally, he pulled his watch from his wrist and pried the back off. There was just enough space to stow the chip.

  "Why?"

  "Because you and I can't ever forget this. Our family isn't the sole cause of it, but our father concealed the truth from everyone. We have to make sure we're never a part of that again. We have to make sure we never try to spin lies as truth."

  "How do we do that?" Though her face was still pale, a look of determination had crept across it, and Liang nodded in approval.

  "I don't know. Right now, we need to focus on the evacuation, on doing what we can to save as many people as possible. Later…later we'll figure out how to best use this information."

  Glancing at her own watch, Mei's face turned a bit panicky. "You have to go or you'll be late for the meeting."

  "What about—"

  "Leave it to me. I'll make sure it's all destroyed. All of it." Her expression darkened, and he saw an intensity in her eyes he'd never before witnessed. It was time to trust his little sister, who was a baby no longer.

  Unrest

  A wave of sound hit Liang as he stepped from the house. Glancing at the sky, he wondered if they were about to be hit by another patch of wild, unpredictable weather, but the morning was surprisingly clear and the temperature was rather mild.

  "Morris, what is that?" Liang asked.

  His assistant shrugged. "I don't know. We'd better get going."

  Liang nodded curtly and followed Morris to the car. "Still doing all right, Les?" Liang asked his driver.

  "Fine, sir, thank you for asking," Les replied, starting the car. "I trust you and your sister are well?"

  "We are, thanks to you."

  "It was nothing, sir."

  "We owe our safety to your quick thinking."

  Les acknowledged the compliment by meeting Liang's eyes in the rearview mirror and nodding before guiding the car down the long driveway. The mature oaks lining the path cast shadows over the car, and Liang glanced outside at the skeletal branches clawing at the sky. Quickly, he averted his eyes. He couldn't stand the sight of those trees.

  "Why don't you cut them down?" Mei had asked him in exasperation, after witnessing this reaction dozens of times.

  But he wouldn't cut them down, regardless of how much they reminded him of his own failures. His favorite picture of his grandfather hung over the fireplace in his study, depicting a young man leaning against a sleek sports car, the magnificent trees forming a canopy of leafy green branches. It sickened him to think of how much things had changed since his grandfather had been young.

  They arrived at Sylvie's house at five minutes before six to find that everyone else was already there. The butler opened the door for Liang and Morris, bowing low and leading them toward Sylvie's office, but long before they reached it, Liang could hear raised voices coming from behind the closed doors. Exchanging a surprised glance with Morris, Liang looked over at the butler, but the man's expression was completely blank and placid. Liang wondered how long it had taken him to perfect such a look, if he'd practiced it in a mirror until he got it just right.

  "…should have thought of this sooner! And now—" Ishani's angry voice projected clearly into the hallway as the butler reached for the door handles.

  "Shh! What's happening now?" Myles asked. Liang was stunned. No one ever shushed Ishani.

  The butler opened the door and Liang and Morris stepped inside, but no one acknowledged their presence. Their attention was fixed on the large monitor hanging across from Sylvie's desk, and Liang, bemused, examined their faces. Myles's and Ishani's were twisted in unease. Sylvie methodically gnawed off her nails. Liang watched in morbid fascination as she slowly devoured the bright red nail on her ring finger. She'd already chewed off every nail except the one on her pinkie. The other Creators all stared at the screen open-mouthed, and Liang suddenly became conscious that the sound coming from the screen was remarkably similar to the sound he'd heard when he'd stepped outside.

  "Holy shit," Morris whispered. Surprised, Liang glanced at his assistant's stricken face before turning his attention to the monitors.

  At first he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. It was a jumble of noise and shaky camera movements, a pile of disjointed limbs and angry faces. Everything was hazy, as if the scene was being shot through a dust storm, and Liang thought they were looking at a feed from another alliance network. But there was something familiar about the sight, and as he squinted at the screen, he realized the scene he was watching was taking place just outside the compound gates.

  "What's going on?" His voice was unnaturally loud in the hush of the room, and several people started at the sound.

  Sylvie removed her finger from her mouth long enough to respond. "Haven't you heard? There's a riot outside our gates." She hadn't even fully finished speaking before she began gnawing on her pinkie.

  "What?" Liang took several swift steps over toward her, so he could see the screen better.

  The images flickering on the screen were like something from his worst nightmare. People screamed, hurling debris at security forces, who beat them back with their shields. Every few seconds some ragged person went down, a victim of a suppression wand, and Liang realized that the clouds he'd seen were gas clouds. He watched as one gas-masked security officer drew his arm back and hurled a grenade into the crowd, the gush of gas almost completely obscuring the camera feed. Down in the corner of the screen was the call sign of a local news crew affiliate.

  "Next channel," Liang said hoarsely. The screen cycled to the next station, another local affiliate, and the scene he saw was the same as the previous channel, before it switched abruptly to an image of a security convoy driving at breakneck speed down the road approaching the Creator compound. The image changed again, this time showing a command center, though Liang had no idea where it was located.

  "Captain, do you have a plan for suppressing the crowd?" a female reporter shouted at a bear of a man, who glared at her for a split second before shouldering her aside and striding away.

  The reporter looked taken aback, but she quickly recovered her slick, professional composure. "As you can see, security officials are hard at work—"

  A man's face suddenly appeared on the screen, a well-known anchorman who was obviously tucked safely away in his studio. "Thanks for that report, Alisha. We now take you to Rashid."

  "You can see reinforcements arriving, and not a moment too soon," an excited voice shouted, though the reporter wasn't visible. Instead, the camera focused on a long line of security forces in helmets and flak vests jogging toward the gates. As Liang watched, horrified, the force's commander began barking out inaudible orders, but his intent was soon clear as the forces raised their weapons, aiming at the crowd. A crack sounded, and the air rushed out of Liang's lungs, as if he'd been punched in the diaphragm. A whole group of protesters went down, but there was too much chaos to see if they'd been killed or merely incapacitated.

  "…ordered to cease and desist immediately! Repeat, if you do not withdraw from this vicinity, we will use lethal
force against you," an amplified, disembodied female voice sounded.

  The crowd roared at these words, and several of the protesters managed to break through the line of security forces. Though he wished with every ounce of his being that he could close his eyes, block out the images, Liang could not tear his eyes away from the scene. People began trying to climb the compound fence, their faces savage and their eyes wild as they screamed in fury. Several cracks rang out and the climbers went down. This time, Liang could see the blood.

  As if on cue, several Creators touched their fingers to their ears. Liang's own device went off, the pleasant computer-generated voice announcing to him that Mei Zhang was on the line. Swallowing hard, Liang tapped his ear.

  "Liang! Are you safe?" Mei shrieked.

  He turned and walked a little apart from the others, hunching over, as if drawing his body in on itself would somehow protect his sister from what she had seen. "I'm fine," he choked.

  "What are we… Where…"

  "Are you safe, Mei?"

  "Yes. I'm still inside the house. There are a bunch of guards outside and I—"

  "Just stay where you are," he cut her off. "I'm sorry, Mei, but I have to go now. I'll call you as soon as I can."

  "Liang—"

  "Please, Mei, I have to meet with the others, figure out how to restore peace."

  There was a short pause during which he could hear her ragged breaths, and he knew she was trying to cry quietly so he wouldn't hear her. "Okay." Her voice was tiny.

  "It's…it's going to be okay." He didn't know why he said it. He didn't believe it, but he felt compelled to say something, anything to try to set his sister's mind at ease.

  "Bullshit," she spat. "Nothing's ever going to be okay again."

  The line went dead, and he turned back to look at the others. Sylvie seemed to be in a trance, and Liang noticed a red shine on a couple of her fingers. He thought it was just her slick polish, but then a glob of red dripped onto her immaculate, cream-colored suit. She didn't notice. Her eyes were vacant as she stared at the screen, gnawing on her fingers.

  "Off," Liang whispered, stepping closer to the screen. His words were lost in the buzz in the room, and the images continued to play out, desperate people flinging themselves at the gates, at the security officers, the haze of gas bombs obscuring the splotches of red on the ground. "Off!" Liang barked at full volume, and the screen went dead, as did the buzz in the room.

  "End your calls. Now," he commanded. Without protest, the others did. "We have to take decisive action immediately. Do we have reports?"

  "Reports?" Keiko asked, looking dazed.

  "From the security teams. Have any of you heard from your teams yet?"

  "My chief believes the crowd will be suppressed within the next ten minutes," Myles replied, stepping forward.

  "And what about the domes? The homes of staff?" Liang asked.

  The others looked at him helplessly and he wanted to roar at them, but he clenched his fists and forced himself to remain calm. "Ishani, contact the teams in the residential districts. Keiko, contact the teams at the domes. And Sylvie, snap out of it."

  She flinched as if he'd struck her, her ruined hands falling down to her sides. "Oh…I, I…" She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head slightly. When she opened them again, her gaze was all business.

  "Manon, call our team for a status report," Sylvie told her assistant, who nodded and hurried off to an unoccupied corner.

  After twenty chaotic minutes during which everyone attempted to contact their teams with varying degrees of success, they at last had a clearer picture of what was happening. Fortunately, the domes were in isolated areas that were difficult to access without vehicles, so they were still secure. The city had erupted in chaos, and the security teams for each Creator had corralled what staff they could find into the most secure buildings possible. The riot outside of the compound was beginning to die down, and reports of casualties, both civilian and security forces, were now rolling in.

  "We need to appoint a chief and we need to do it now," Myles said, as everyone's assistants kept in contact with the security forces, providing a constant stream of updated information.

  "I suppose you'd like to put forth your chief as a candidate," Ishani said, her voice dripping with scorn.

  "Shut the hell up," Keiko said, biting off each word. Everyone turned to stare at her, Liang included. Never before had he heard one Creator speak to another that way. "In case you haven't noticed, we have an insurrection on our hands. Now is not the time for your usual petty bullshit."

  Ishani's mouth dropped open and she looked outraged, but Myles didn't let her get a word in edgewise. "Keiko's right."

  "We'll take ten minutes," Sylvie said. "Each of us will make a list of our most experienced candidates, with preference for those who have a military background. We will then each select one candidate from the list, compare that candidate to other Creators' candidates, and whichever has the most experience will be appointed chief of the joint Alliance forces.

  "Our days of arguing and endless negotiations are over. From now until we're in those domes and assured of our survival, we make fast decisions and we make them unanimously." Sylvie eyed each of them with a steely glare, and Liang wanted to squirm, even though he agreed with her. There was silence for a moment and then, one by one, the Creators all voiced their agreement.

  Vow

  Mei flung herself at Liang the minute he walked through the door, clinging to him so forcefully he could hardly breathe. A protest was on the tip of his tongue, but then he noticed the way she was trembling, and he let out a breath, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her for a long moment.

  "It's okay. We're safe," he said.

  She pulled back from him abruptly, wiping her eyes and shaking her head. "How can you say that? The city is burning!"

  "I know," he said quietly.

  He had seen the footage, horrifying and mesmerizing: filled with leaping, dancing flames, people tearing down buildings, hurling debris through windows, and attacking one another. The security forces weren't even attempting to quell the riots. It had been determined this would not be the best use of their limited resources. Instead, they had sealed off large parts of the city with barricades hastily constructed from a combination of detritus and armored vehicles, leaving behind groups of armed forces to secure them.

  "How could he just let this happen?" Mei asked, her voice agonized, and Liang knew she was talking about their father.

  Now was not the time to think about that. There would be plenty of leisure for those questions once they were safely inside the dome. "We've been able to secure a majority of the residential zones and see to the safety of most of the staff. As horrible as all this is, we knew it was impossible to save everyone." He was trying just as hard to convince himself as he was to convince her.

  "I know that," she snapped. "But letting them die like this? Tearing one another to pieces?" Tears began to flow down her face and she dashed at them angrily, curling her hands into tight fists. Every muscle in her body went tense, and he was uncertain whether she'd start pummeling him or go tearing through the door, running away and never looking back. He didn't like either possibility.

  "Would starving to death have been any better?" He kept his voice quiet, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders.

  "I hate this!" She crumpled, sagging against him, and he staggered at the sudden, unexpected weight. "I hate it all."

  "I do too." He embraced her once more and rubbed her back.

  "What now?" she asked, after several seconds. She took a deep, shuddering breath and he felt, rather than saw, her pulling herself together again.

  "We've stepped up evacuation of the residential zones. The other division heads are on their way, and we're going to finalize the numbers. We have to get the people out of there as quickly as possible. Our security numbers are good, but it's a strain on our resources to secure the residential zones."

  "Yeah. We'll
need those forces to secure our compound." He winced at the bitterness in her tone.

  "I know how it sounds. But the fact of the matter is that our compound is much easier to secure than the residential zones."

  "Of course. We've always been good at living behind barricades."

  "Mei," he said carefully, "you know I feel the same way you do. And you know you can be honest with me, tell me anything. But when the others are around—"

  "Don't worry." She pushed him away with surprising ferocity. "When the others are around, I'll play the good little Creator. I'll hide our family's secret, and I'll pretend like life in the domes will be a paradise. No one will ever know I have such awful thoughts about how easily those of us with the power have survived."

  Liang sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "You're right, of course. But this isn't a picnic for us either. We have to live with these decisions."

  "That's just it, Li. We get to live." When he looked down into her eyes, he saw a fierce glimmer there, and he winced. Was she including him in her scorn?

  "I know, but we're responsible for all these people. Did you ever stop to think about that?" He didn't want to yell at her, but he was so exhausted, so traumatized by everything he had seen, by all the decisions he'd been forced to make, that he could feel his composure spiraling out of control. "Without us, no one would make it. No one! We've had to make terrible decisions, yes, but we're also ensuring the survival of the human race. So don't stand there and judge me."

  Her lower lip quivered, and he felt a flash of remorse. As crazy as she sometimes drove him, he loved his sister and they rarely fought, but her accusations were the last thing he needed at the moment.

  "This is exactly what I'm afraid of," she whispered.

  "What is?" he barked, turning from her and running his hand through his hair.

  "Hearing you make these rationalizations." No anger or fight remained in her voice now, just weariness, fear, and a deep, deep sadness.