by T. C. Edge
“Jeez,” says Markus. “You Watchers come in handy sometimes...”
He pulls the car back on track, and we go on, the car ahead slowing to allow us to catch up. We follow it closely, sticking to its rear, unwilling to lose them in the blur.
They take a left turn, choosing a different path, and we follow. I know that Drake, in the lead car, will be watching closely for danger as Theo and I are. It's probably why he split us up in the first place.
It works well. On a couple of other occasions, either Theo or I tell Markus to slow or go faster or swerve left or right. The car ahead does the same as debris clatters down on the road. We avoid it all as we stretch away from the pillars of wind tearing up the landscape.
The storm begins to ease a little bit as we go, visibility improving and the incessant rumble of thunder and strikes of lightning fading into the background. Still, however, a heavy stretch of black cloud covers the sky as far as the eye can see, hanging low over the plains and hills.
The roads remain clear for a while. No one appears to want to go out in this weather. We make good progress over a long stretch of barren, lifeless terrain. It appears that here, the land is worthless and unlived on. Then I spy the sight of old pits, dug deep into the earth, and old mines, and realise that the area was once part of Fossor, stripped bare and now devoid of any worth.
The storm holds all morning. The world continues to groan and grumble. But in the distance, the horizon tells of an end to the chaos, and an end to our journey across this land. Because ahead, the unmistakable sight of the coastline appears, stretching from one side to the other through the windscreen of the car.
“Is...is that it?” asks Ellie. “Have we made it?”
I can hardly believe it either. Hardly believe that we've managed to cross the whole of the mainland without running into any trouble at all. Without having to fight for every inch of ground made, cutting a path of destruction as we go.
“It's not over yet,” Markus reminds us. “We still have to get to Tartarus, for a start, and that's just the beginning of it. Frankly, what we've done so far has been the simple part.”
“You're right,” says Theo. “But still, that was surprisingly easy. Too easy. I'm not sure I like it.”
“What do you mean?” asks Markus. “When was something being too easy ever a problem?”
“I dunno. I just have a bad feeling about it.”
Markus huffs and ignores him. But for me, I know exactly what he means. Something doesn't seem quite right.
We continue on towards the coast. Soon, we're stopping atop high cliffs, and stepping out into what is now a light drizzle. Gathered together on the edge of the cliff, we scan left and right.
In both directions, high cliffs and ridges stretch, the raging ocean below. I can see no settlements, no boats pulling into harbour towns and ports. It's a quiet stretch of coastline, and not what we were looking for.
“OK, what now?” asks Jackson.
Again, we turn to our leader. He, in turn, stands to face Tommy.
“We need a boat,” he says to him. “Or, ideally, a helicopter or airborne transport.”
“I...I'm sorry, I don't know this area,” says Tommy nervously. “I've never been here before.”
“Then I'm sorry, Tommy. We have no more use for you.”
Drake steps forward quickly and grabs the cuffs around his wrists. He begins marching towards the edge of the cliff, dragging him along.
“No, please, no...”
“Dad! What the hell are you doing?!”
“You did this, Cyra. We can't keep him as a prisoner, and we have no more use for him.”
“No, no...I can help you. I'll help you find an aircraft. Please!”
Drake continues towards the cliff, ignoring his pleas. I rush in and grab Tommy's jacket, pulling back.
“Dad, stop, listen to him. He can help us.”
“No, he can't. He's lying.”
“I'm not. I can help. I want to help!”
“Desperate words, Tommy. They don't convince me.”
“Sir, stop and listen for a moment.” It's Jackson, stepping forward.
Drake stops and looks at him curiously.
“You know this is the only way, Jackson. All of you do.” He looks around at everyone. Their eyes are hooded.
“Sir,” continues Jackson, “let's just talk this out quickly. He's led us this far, let's see if he can help us still. We don't have a boat or an aircraft yet, sir. And we won't go any further without one. We might need him.”
In the background, Tommy's pleads continue.
“I can fly,” he repeats. “I'm the only one who knows how to fly.”
“Markus can fly,” says Drake.
“An old helicopter, maybe,” cuts in Markus. “I don't know about the aircraft they have here.”
“You can really fly?” asks Drake sternly, staring at a shaking and shivering Tommy.
“Yes!” He nods vociferously. “I can fly. Please, don't throw me off the cliff. Please.”
Drake looks up at each of us. Some shake their heads slowly. Others look at the man with pity. I stare at my father with anger.
“This isn't right, Drake,” I bite. “The father I knew wouldn't murder an innocent man.”
“You all feel this way?” he asks.
Silence.
“I agree with her, sir,” says Theo eventually.
“Same here,” says Jackson. “He's still of use.”
“Cyra's right,” says Ellie, coming up to my side.
“How about you two?” asks Drake, looking at Markus and Lieutenant Murphy.
Both men nod their heads.
“It doesn't feel right, sir,” says Lieutenant Murphy. “It's not you.”
Markus still nods, but says nothing.
Slowly, Drake's grip on Tommy's cuffs grows weak. When he lets go, the man drops to the ground, his legs buckling, and I notice tears running down his cheeks. I move forwards to lift him up, wrapping my arm around his shaking body.
“It's all right now, Tommy,” I say. “You're OK.”
I take him off to sit him down in the car, out of the rain, then return to the rest.
“What the hell was that about, dad? How are we better than anyone if we're going to kill an innocent man in cold blood?”
“There's nothing but the mission, Cyra. Eleven of his comrades were killed. What's the difference if we add him to the list?”
“The difference is that that was a fire fight. This is our captive, a man who's helped us, and who is completely defenceless. There is no redeeming reason to chuck him off a cliff! It's murder!”
I find my voice growing stronger as I speak. Everyone else just stays quiet. Perhaps only me, as his daughter, is able to speak to him in such a way.
“And what would you do with him then? Let him run free? Do you know what he'd do...he'd go straight to the nearest military outpost or town and call into Eden, telling them that we're all here with a plan to break Stein out of Tartarus and assassinate the High Chancellor. I wonder how difficult our mission would become then?”
“No, dad, no! Why do you have to see all this in black and white? Why can't we just take him with us still, as our captive? He doesn't have to die at all!”
Drake takes a long, deep breath, and turns to stare out over the ocean. From behind, I see his head shaking slowly.
“You know, this is the first time I've ever seen the ocean,” he says. “I thought it would be a great moment...but I've hardly even noticed it.”
He turns back to look at me, his demeanour changed, his expression less cold, more sunken.
“You're right, Cyra. Sometimes, all I see is the mission. But I can't lose my humanity. You're right. I'm wrong.”
He looks up from me and passes his gaze over the rest of the group.
“I'm sorry, all of you. I am your leader, and I should know better...I'm sorry.”
“It's OK, sir,” says Jackson. “It's a high pressure situation, and you have difficul
t decisions to make. We all understand, don't we?”
Jackson turns to the rest, growing in stature, standing taller than all of them. I look at him and smile, see the same boy I knew from home, looked up to and revered by all the other kids. Here, with men much older, he still commands respect.
“We do,” they all say.
“Thank you,” says Drake. He turns to me again. “And you, Cyra...I'm so very proud of you.”
For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets the distance he's put between us, and pulls me into a warm hug. For weeks now he's shown me little affection, treating me as another soldier to be ordered, only occasionally proving himself my father.
But here, in front of everyone, that melts away for a brief moment. And in that moment I know, if only for now...I have my father back again.
20 - Flight to Fight
In the dripping rain, we stand together and formulate a plan. We have one priority right now; to find a transport of any kind to take us to Tartarus. Everyone is given an opportunity to put forward their case. Right now, we're very much taking things as they come. This is new territory for all of us.
When Theo speaks, he tells of our journey from New Atlantis to the mainland coast. He'd gone down to the docks early that day and bartered passage for us on a shark fishing boat. No questions were asked by Captain Mako, the fisherman, and we managed to cross the sea and reach the mainland without too much trouble.
That was then, however, and this is now. The sight of seven men and women searching for a way of reaching Tartarus covertly would raise all eyebrows. Money, of course, could probably keep tongues in check, but we have none. The only option, we decide, is to steal a transport, rather than negotiate for some unscrupulous character to take us.
The next decision to be made is where to go to find this transport. An airborne vehicle, we all conclude, is the better option. With Tartarus being quite far off shore in an area known for bad weather and typhoons, the option of finding a small boat isn't hugely appealing. Certainly, I don't like it, the deep ocean always being something so mysterious and daunting to me.
“So, I guess Tommy's going to have to show us what he's made of again,” says Lieutenant Murphy.
“Go fetch him,” says Drake, with a hint of guilt in his voice.
A couple of minutes later, a nervous Tommy is being walked back towards us in the rain. He looks everywhere but at Drake, his eyes wandering, his breathing sharp.
“Tommy,” says Drake. “Tommy, look at me.”
With difficulty, he does as ordered.
“I'm sorry for earlier,” says Drake. “You must know it was nothing personal. You have been very helpful so far, and we thank you for that. Will you accept my apology.”
Tommy nods, eyes jumping up and down between Drake and his toes.
“Good. And now I'm going to have to ask for your help again. You said you can help us find an aircraft, and you'll be able to fly it.”
“Ye..yes,” he says.
“Which direction shall we go?”
“Ummmm.” His eyes rush left and right up the coast. “I think South. We're very far North, so we're unlikely to find much if we continue up.”
“OK, logical,” says Drake. “And an aircraft...where will we find one?”
Tommy shuffles nervously. I doubt he has the answers we're looking for, but feels he needs to convince us to avoid being tossed to his death.
“Just be honest, Tommy,” says Drake. “You have nothing to fear.”
“Well...we use aircraft sometimes as Custodians. I'm trained to fly them. They're for dealing with emergencies quickly.”
We all lean in a bit closer.
“I have a map in the car showing the main Custodian bases. Like I told you, I haven't been here, but there's sure to be one nearby.” His voice grows a bit in confidence as we silently listen.
“And there will be aircraft there?”
He nods. “Yes, most likely.”
“So,” says Drake. “We go to the nearest base, steal an aircraft, and be on our merry way. Is that what you're suggesting?”
Tommy shakes his head.
“It's too risky,” he says. “These bases have tight security. You'd never get through, and they'd never allow me to take an aircraft. If you try to steal one, you'll cause a big stir.”
“OK, then what?”
“I have a better idea,” says Tommy.
We all creep just a little bit closer.
“We're listening,” says Drake.
An hour later, we're all in position. In the rear car, Ellie and I wait, crouching low and out of sight. Nearby, the other vehicle sits unoccupied, and outside it, Markus lies prostrate on the ground, the other men surrounding him.
The trap is set. The rain has ceased, and in the air, the faint sound of engines begins to reach my ears.
I peek from my hiding place and see, in the distance, a speck appear in the grey sky. Coming from the South, it hurtles towards us, growing larger by the minute.
The men begin to wave, shaking their arms in the air, all cloaked in their Custodian uniforms. Tommy is one of them, doing his part, a part which he continues to play well. Without him, I wonder how far we'd have come.
He could quite easily have not given us this option. He could have just told us the only way of getting an aircraft was by raiding the nearest Custodian base. He might have been able to escape, or alert them all, and bring to an end his captivity.
But he didn't. Instead he offered us a simple alternative; to lure the aircraft to us.
All it really took was a radio distress call. He acted the part well, telling the nearest base that one of our party had suffered an injury and we needed immediate assistance. Given how far we were away, he told us that they'd be forced to send an air transport for quick pick up and medical attention.
Now, the plan is in motion, one that myself and Ellie have no part in. The reason for that is simple – our outfits just don't fit us, and we might look out of place out there.
In any case, we shouldn't be needed. Ahead, the aircraft draws near, and I get a good look at it for the first time. Flat on the bottom and curved on top, with a pointed front end and short, compact wings, it cuts through the air quickly. As it gets closer, it turns and I see the back of it, engines glowing blue against the slate sky. Then, blue flames appear beneath the wings as it hovers in mid air and then descends.
It looks about the size of the bus that took us to the orchards back home; not huge but enough to transports a few dozen men quickly from place to place. As it reaches the ground and lands, I see a door along the side slide open. Two men rush out, dressed in medical attire, and quickly approach the group.
Silently, Ellie and I share a concerned look. We can hear voices outside, but can't determine what's being said. It looks as though Tommy is doing most of the talking. I peek forward once more and see Markus being inspected by the medics.
I wonder how long it will take for them to realise that there's nothing wrong with him.
I continue watching as Drake walks casually towards the pilot. I see him wave for him to shut the aircraft down and come out. The pilot remains seated for a moment before leaving the cockpit. Moments later, I see him emerge out of the side door.
Now in the open, Drake goes to work. In an instant he steps forward, pulls out his weapon, and forces the pilots arms into the air. The medics turn to see what the commotion is to find a series of pistols pointing in their direction.
They're quickly bound and taken towards the other car and placed inside. Drake comes to us.
“Girls, you can come out now.”
We join the group outside.
Tommy gets a couple of pats on the back. He doesn't look overly pleased by the praise.
“That was easy,” remarks Markus. “Now what though? The base these guys came from is going to get suspicious when they don't return.”
“We need to act fast,” says Drake. “Someone will have to stay here and keep watch on them. Make sure that if t
he base contacts them, they answer with a decent excuse.”
“OK, Ellie should stay,” I say.
“Hell no. I'm not leaving your side.”
“Ellie, you should stay here. You know why...”
We share a secret look.
“Something going on?” asks Jackson.
“No, it's just Ellie can't see into the Void, so she'll be more vulnerable.”
“Sure, but by that token only you and your dad and Theo should go?”
“Fine, maybe that's the way it should be.”
“No, we're going to stay together. We only need one person to stay here, and I need someone I can really count on. Markus, that's you.”
Markus nods. He's probably delighted.
“Ellie, if you want to stay as well, you can,” says Drake.
She shakes her head defiantly.
“There's no way in hell,” she says.
“Right, that's settled. We have no further time to argue about this. Let's get going.”
We all move towards the aircraft, leaving Markus alone, and climb inside. The interior is simple, two benches running down either side for the transfer of Custodians. At the end, there's a small medical area fit with a trolley and medical supplies.
Drake guides Tommy into the cockpit. I look through the narrow doorway to see a complicated collection of buttons and switches and levers.
Thank God we still have Tommy...
Ellie sits down next to me.
“Why didn't you just stay!” I whisper harshly. “Why are you risking yourself?”
When she answers, her voice is firm. “For Link,” she says.
I have no answer to that.
We lift into the air. Unlike the helicopter, it's much quieter inside. The ride is sleek, less jumpy. We glide up without so much as a bump, gaining altitude before hovering for a moment.
A voice comes from the front.
“Hold on,” calls Tommy.
Then, with a sudden burst from the back, the engines howl and the aircraft begins shooting forward at speed, over the cliffs and out towards the open ocean. Small windows show the mainland growing distant and, within minutes, there's nothing to see but open ocean.