by Amy DuBoff
He was cut off by a low laugh from the Mission Coordinator. “Oh, no!” His hand emerged from inside his coat holding a rare bullet handgun. “This is much more than a threat.”
Haersen pulled the trigger before Wil had time to react.
The bullet caught Wil right below the ribs, and he felt it lodged deep inside. He collapsed to the floor, radiating pain replaced by numbness. The room dimmed. He lay on his back gasping for air as he pressed on the wound to try to stop the freely flowing blood.
Haersen walked to Wil and stood over him, looking downward with his gun still in hand. “The time of weakness is over. Now, all will be immortal.” He aimed the gun at Wil’s head and a slow smiled spread over his face. His finger tightened on the trigger for the final lethal shot.
The door flew open. Wil couldn’t see clearly, but it appeared a single shot from a standard blast gun struck Haersen in the shoulder. The bullet gun fell to the ground and Haersen dodged to the side to avoid a lunging figure. He tore out of the room. The other man was about to follow, but halted.
Caeron knelt beside Wil. Wil looked up at him briefly, but closed his eyes again when he was unable to focus. His thoughts became detached from his consciousness and he began drifting toward blackness. He worked his throat to say something, but nothing came out. Even as his last physical strength gave out, thoughts continued to drift through his mind. I can’t die yet, came forward through the jumble. This can’t be the end. Further down, Haersen’s betrayal cut him. How could he do this to his own people? Why help the Bakzen?
There were words spoken out loud, but Wil couldn’t make them out. He wanted to answer, but still couldn’t speak. Gentle hands picked him up, but he barely felt the movement. Some of the voices sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place them. The lighting changed outside his closed lids, and then again. He was placed on something comfortable with firm support. He released and felt no more.
CHAPTER 16
Cris was slumped over on the bench outside Wil’s medical room, hands over his eyes. After everything, his greatest danger was at home. I’ll kill Haersen myself if we ever find him. At first Cris had stayed inside the room by his son’s side, but it had become too painful to see him in a comatose state. So, he waited vigilantly outside his door, hoping.
Wil had been rushed to the medical facilities on Level 1 immediately after he was shot—thanks to Caeron—but he had not awoken in the two weeks since. The bullet had lodged in Wil’s spine, shattering the bone and ravaging the nerves. The accompanying blood loss had been substantial, limiting crucial oxygen to his brain as he was taken from Level 10 to the top floor of Headquarters. Medical science could repair his wounds, but tests could only show so much. There was no way to confirm if the reconstruction had been successful until he was awake. If he wakes up.
As time dragged on with no change in his condition, Banks had stopped visiting. It’s only a matter of time before they’ll give up on him. Before they’ll want to replace him. But I won’t. I can’t.
Cris sensed Kate approaching. He pulled his hands from his eyes and looked blearily around the infirmary.
Kate was a shell of herself, devastated by the loss of her son who wasn’t yet gone. Though despair had consumed her, Cris was trying to hold out. Yet, his heart had been steadily sinking as the days passed.
Kate sat down on the bench next to Cris without her usual grace, and leaned against her husband. “Banks almost said something to me today. You’ve seen the way he looks at us. They won’t let it go on like this…”
I’m done taking orders from the Priesthood. “I’m not giving up on him.” Cris put his arm around her and rubbed her back.
Kate tensed under his touch. “I am trying not to… but you’ve heard the odds of him making a full recovery. It’s possible he won’t even wake up. In the event he—”
Cris pulled away and looked at his wife with disbelief. “How can you even go there?”
Kate searched his eyes then hung her head. “Nothing about this is easy, Cris.”
“I know.” He straightened, resolute. “But I refuse to give up on him. Ever.”
“I haven’t given up.” Tears filled Kate’s eyes. “I just can’t continue to ignore reality.”
“And I can’t ignore my son, as my parents once did.”
Kate sat back. “You think they abandoned your brother?”
“Never mind.” What happened to Tristen isn’t the same.
“Your parents had to look to their future. There were forces beyond their control.”
“Kate—” I can’t hear this. Not now. Not from her.
“As much as you don’t want to admit it, you now find yourself in a similar position. An injured son, with everything depending on him. Tristen was killed—it was tragic. And then your parents had you, because they had no other option. But your existence doesn’t diminish his memory.”
But there’s one important distinction. “Wil isn’t dead.”
Kate looked down. “No, he’s not. But they won’t let us wait around forever hoping he’ll recover.”
“I’ll wait.” Cris crossed his arms. I won’t bring another child into this, not to be used by the Priesthood and TSS. “They can’t force us to do anything.”
Fresh tears filled Kate’s eyes, both mourning her son and for their impossible position. “What about our people?”
It shouldn’t all fall to us. Can’t hide the war forever. “It’s too soon to think about any of this.”
Kate nodded and collapsed against the wall behind the bench. “I shouldn’t draw any comparison to what happened with your family. There’s no sense dwelling on the past.”
But there are similarities. Tristen’s death was no accident. Neither was what happened to Wil. “I know my brother was gone, but still—my parents were so quick to conceive another… a replacement. As long as there is any hope for Wil, however slim the chance may be, I won’t give up.”
Kate took Cris’ hand. “I’m sure they would have waited if they could. With their age, time was not on their side.”
Cris slumped against the wall. “Of course, and I understand that. I guess it’s not really about the timing.” He searched for the words. “It was the expectation for me to be exactly like him—that was within their control. That is what I can never excuse.”
“How were you so different from him?”
Cris shook his head. “I lack the one key personality trait they so desperately desired: that I would want to be who I am—businessman, politician, aristocrat. And for that, I am their greatest disappointment.”
Kate looked down.
The Priesthood took away my parents’ perfect son and they got me in return. I’d be bitter, too. “What if Tristen’s death was a signal that the Sietinen line should end, that Sietinen and Vaenetri should never join? Perhaps I wasn’t meant to be here.”
Kate looked appalled. “How can you say that?”
“I’ve never felt I belonged. I thought I had a place here in the TSS, but now I know that was all a ruse.” The Priesthood carrying out their plan to win their secret war.
“Wil would never have been born at all,” Kate ventured. “But on the other hand, perhaps Tristen had to die so that you would have a chance at life.”
But, am I the right one to be here now? “My point is that events depend on each other. What will happen will be. Let’s not decide anything until we have facts rather than layers of supposition.”
Kate nodded and leaned against Cris’ shoulder, linking her arm around his. “You’re right. It’s not over yet.”
* * *
Wil felt detached from himself, drifting. He was surrounded by darkness, devoid of any feeling. It was peaceful at first, but a gnawing began at the back of his consciousness, like he was forgetting something important. As he thought about what he might have lost, he realized he wasn’t alone in the darkness.
Whispers swirled around him, fleeting as though carried by an unseen breeze. Wil tried to catch the words, but they drif
ted past. Determined, he fought to find the source. As he probed into the darkness, he felt a sudden presence in his mind. The whispers enveloped him, separate voices becoming one. “We see you.”
Startled, Wil pulled away. The movement was met by crippling pain that seemed to emanate from the very core of his being. He tried to retreat from the fiery burn, but there was nowhere to go. As the pain threatened to consume him, he noticed a faint red glow.
Desperate for any escape, Wil focused on the light. It was so close, but just beyond reach. He opened his eyes. His surroundings seemed like they should be familiar, but he couldn’t place them. He tried to roll his head to the side to look around the room, but he couldn’t move. Gripped with fear, he attempted to sit upright. A shock of searing pain shot from his back to the rest of his body. The very tensing of his muscles was unbearable. He consciously relaxed as he lay on the bed, holding in a cry of anguish. Breathing alone was almost too painful to tolerate.
What happened to me? He probed his memory. For a moment, he couldn’t remember anything. Then, images and information began trickling back—slowly at first, then accelerating to faster than he thought he could take in at once. He somehow caught every detail through the flood of information. The entire experience lasted no more than a few seconds, but it left him breathless.
When the memories had settled, Wil focused on the present. He set the pain aside, becoming no more than a dim ache in the background of his consciousness. As he evaluated himself, his condition took on a new light. He knew he was not paralyzed, but rather that his nerves were still healing and movement would disrupt the process. He was able to comprehend that his entire nervous system had undergone a change. At the edge of his consciousness he was aware that he was processing thoughts differently, but everything was so much more ordered and coherent that it felt natural.
Just as he was about to slip deeper within himself to further assess his neurological transformation, he became aware of movement outside. The door opened.
Irina stepped in, her expression a mixture of confusion and relief. “Wil, you’re…” She rushed to the console next to his medical bed and brought up the details of his vitals.
They didn’t expect me to wake up. Wil nodded. It took effort. I’ve never felt so weak.
Cris came into the doorway, looking just as perplexed as Irina. “Wil!” He almost choked.
“Hi,” Wil managed.
“How do you feel?” Irina asked.
Wil swallowed, feeling parched. “I’ve been better. But, okay, I guess.”
Irina smiled. “You gave us quite a scare.” She beckoned Cris into the room,
Cris came forward, but looked like he was about to faint. He collapsed in a chair next to Wil’s bed.
“We weren’t sure what happened,” Irina continued. “Your brain activity was barely registering for days. Suddenly, it flat-lined for ten seconds, and then shot up to higher than anything I’ve ever seen. The percentage of simultaneous utilization is…”
“I feel it.” Wil looked inward. “Whatever you did to repair my injury, I feel like I’ve been rewired. And, I guess I had to ‘reboot,’ if you will. It’s like… like everything is now running at optimum efficiency.”
Irina looked to Cris, but he was at a loss for words. “Wil, I’ll try to put this delicately,” she continued. “There was significant damage. Your spinal column was virtually shattered. The blood loss resulted in major oxygen starvation to your brain.”
Wil paused for a moment. But I’m here. “I know. I’ll need to learn how to walk again.”
Irina came forward and took his feet lightly in her hands. “You have feeling?”
Wil twitched his toe, sending radiating pain he was careful to hide.
Irina smiled with relief. “Well, in that case, I suppose your recovery can just go down in history as a medical miracle.”
Except, I was engineered to be this way. “I’m much more than that.”
Cris pulled himself together and stood up. “Can you leave us alone for a few minutes?” he asked Irina, but his gaze rested on his son.
She hesitated. “I suppose. But I would like to run a more thorough examination soon.”
Cris nodded. “Of course.”
The doctor took a disconcerted breath and walked out of the room.
Cris eased onto the edge of Wil’s bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep, shaky breath. “Thank the stars you’re okay! We weren’t sure you’d…”
How am I supposed to do anything? It hurts to even think about moving. “This recovery won’t be easy.”
Cris cast his eyes downward for a moment before bringing his gaze back up to meet his son’s. “I’m so sorry, Wil. I just can’t stop thinking if Caeron hadn’t arrived. Just seconds later and…”
Banks was right, after all, to insist on having someone with me. Wil took a moment to respond. “As terrible as this all seems now, it’s let me come into my true power.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know exactly. But something in me has changed. I feel stronger somehow.” Is this the power Carzen wanted to help me harness?
Wil froze, remembering what Tek had said in the video recording. If Tek kills Carzen, then any lingering chance of a peaceful end to the conflict with the Bakzen—however slim it may have been—will die with him. He tried to sit up straighter, setting his nerves on fire. “I need a tablet! I need to warn Carzen—”
Cris held him still. “Wil, no.”
“But in the video, Tek said—”
Cris nodded. “I know, I saw it. But whatever is going on with the Bakzen, we need to let it play out. There’s nothing we could say to Carzen that would make a difference.”
Wil shook his head, tears filling his eyes. Complete destruction is my only option.
“I’ll be here for you, as best I can.” Cris took Wil’s hand. He looked pensive.
“What is it?” Wil prompted, fighting back the tears.
“I want to get you away from here for a while. As soon as you’re well enough, let’s go to Tararia.”
“But you hate it there.”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. The family estate might be the safest place there is right now. And it’s peaceful. Wil, you need real sunlight, fresh air and solid ground underfoot. I won’t let my troubles with my parents get in the way of your recovery. You’re old enough to make your own choices about them.”
Their intervention is the only reason I’m alive now. Wil nodded. “All right. I guess it would be nice to get away and just relax for a while.”
Cris smiled. “You deserve it.”
“And you.” Wil forced a smile back.
“I’m glad someone else feels that way.” Cris looked over his shoulder at the door of the medical room. “I should let Irina have a look at you now. Besides, I need to let your mom know you’re finally awake—she’s been worried sick. We both have been.”
“There’s one other thing.” Wil glowered. “Did they ever catch Haersen?”
Cris flushed. “No, they didn’t.”
Wil looked away. Are there others working with the Bakzen? As if our fight wasn’t already hard enough.
His father caught his gaze. “But I swear to you, Wil, I will see to it that he is killed and forever remembered as a traitor for what he did.”
Wil nodded. He picked the wrong side.
* * *
Cris stood in a palatial hall of the Sietinen estate. Despite the warm air wafting through the corridor, a chill gripped him from within. He had been back to his family’s compound on Tararia several times since he ran away as a teenager, but it never felt comfortable. He had too many unpleasant memories to ever be completely at ease there. However, he knew it was the most secure place for Wil, and that meant far more to him than his own peace of mind.
It had been over a month since Wil was shot, and his recovery was going exceptionally well. Wil was able to walk, though still slowly and for short periods, but he was makin
g steady progress. In the week they had been on Tararia, Wil’s spirits had lifted greatly and Cris was glad he had set aside familial conflict for the sake of his son.
Cris looked around at the ornate details of the building; he never ceased to wonder at the craftsmanship of the estate. However, studying the stone and wooden carvings throughout the room, he was overcome with an urge to be outdoors.
He made his way down the hallway and turned out onto a large stone balcony. The terrace overlooked the beautiful gardens of the compound with fountains and streams intermingling in the foliage. Moonlight reflected off of the landscape, and Cris felt instant relief as he overlooked the scenery. He stared upward and admired the two moons of Tararia floating low on the horizon above the mountains that sheltered the city of Sieten.
Cris breathed deeply, taking in the night air. He leaned up against the railing of the balcony, closing his eyes. Just as he was beginning to drift off, he became aware of someone coming up behind him.
He turned around to see Wil hobble out onto the balcony. “What are you doing up, Wil? I thought you were asleep.” He noticed Caeron watching them from just inside the doorway.
“I was, but I woke up and couldn’t get settled again,” Wil replied. He became distant for a moment. “I’m still having the nightmares about the Bakzen.”
Cris felt a sharp pang in his chest. “I was afraid of that.” It’s been every night since he woke up from the coma. When will it end?
Wil shrugged and looked up at the moons. “It’s a beautiful night.”
Cris smiled, but he had to force it through worry. “Yes, it is. It’s good to see that you’re able to move about more freely now.” At least that’s some improvement.
Wil made a vague gesture with his hand. “It still hurts, but I try to ignore the pain.”
He’s so resilient. I don’t think I’d be coping half as well. “I wish you didn’t have to go through this, Wil, but I’m so happy to see you recovering.”
Wil nodded. “Yes, it’s nice to be out of bed finally.”
“I can only imagine.”