by A. W. Cross
Loudest of all were the Nightforge. They were the one Guild Cillian had been sure wouldn’t show. They were devoted to Wakelight and the “Cause,” scavenging with a fanatical devotion, determined to secure their place in the afterlife, whatever that might be. They eyed Cillian suspiciously, torn between wondering if this was a test and reverence for his position. He’d left his mask on—Beauty had thought it better for them to see him as the Guild leaders knew him, then he could show them his true face when it was time.
The others seemed to fall somewhere between these two groups, such as the Hallow Hands. Like Sightless Fall, they filed in in an orderly fashion, nodding somberly at Cillian. Quinn’s head was held high, and Cillian detected a hint of smugness on the Guild leader’s face as they came to stand nearest to him and Beauty. He made sure everyone saw him standing in close quarters with the Beast, a display of his Guild’s power. Cillian resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. This was a matter of life and death and still it was all about the competition.
When the flood became a trickle then stopped altogether, Cillian took a head count. One hundred and twenty-three. All twelve Guilds had come. While that was better than they’d hoped for, it also made Cillian nervous. How had Quinn convinced the other Guilds not to let their Collectors know what was going on?
It turned out, he hadn’t.
As he raised a hand to ask for quiet, three figures separated themselves from the crowd, and Cillian’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. He recognized the two men and one woman. The Collectors for the three other sectors of the city.
Beauty could tell something was wrong. She pressed tightly to his side. “Cillian? Who are they?”
They overheard her and decided to introduce themselves. One man stepped forward. He was the shortest of the three, an older man with a grizzled face and large hands. He bowed to Beauty. “Dorian Lancaster.” He turned to Cillian, a hard glint in his eye. “Cillian Lavellan. What’s this I hear about a revolution?”
Damn, damn, damn. It was his own fault, of course. He never should’ve expected the Guilds to keep this a secret. You’re losing your edge. Cillian stretched himself to his full height. Dorian Lancaster was like a bear—make yourself big enough and he just might pay attention.
“Dorian. I—”
“Take off that damn mask, boy. It’s unnerving. I know you’ve had to wear it, but the time for that is well past.”
Cillian glanced at the watching crowd. How could he refuse? This moment hung by a thread, a balance as thin as the blade of a knife. As he lifted his hands to his face, an arm slipped around his waist and caressed his human hip. I’m here for you.
When he lifted the disguise away, predictable gasps echoed through the room, though not a few had their eyes pinned to Beauty’s intimate touch rather than his true face. Let them stare. If they all survived this, they were looking at the future. He held his head high, daring anyone in the crowd to dissent.
None did.
“That’s a damn sight better. Be proud, my boy, even though they tell us not to be.” Dorian nodded, his stamp of approval.
Beauty cocked her head at him. “You’re a cyborg too?”
“Only from the waist down. We all are, my dear. We wouldn’t be here otherwise. Grace Alpha needed people from the other side, who knew Wakelight and its people well enough but were also indebted to them.”
He gestured, and the other two Collectors revealed themselves. The woman pulled off her gloves to expose two silver hands, slimmer and more delicate than Cillian’s. She nodded. “Zaray Jilly.”
The man pulled back his hood. His face was his own, but from the crown of his head back, he was entirely machine. He pulled up a pant leg for good measure, revealing impossibly thin legs, uncovered by the mesh musculature that filled Cillian out, the joints and complex wiring on full display. “And I am Franklyn Barend, in more parts than I care to admit.”
Satisfied, Dorian turned back to Cillian. “From what I understand, you’ve convinced the others about some plan of Grace Alpha to destroy The Vault soon. Well done.”
“Wait—you believe me?” He hadn’t expected that. If they’d suspected Grace Alpha, why hadn’t they convened some kind of meeting between them? Why hadn’t they let him know?
Probably for the same reason you didn’t tell them.
The older man continued. “I’ve never trusted that Gideon Black. The promises he made…he didn’t keep the ones he made to other people, so why would he keep them to me? Besides, none of this ever sat right with me. I was just too complacent to do anything about it.” His expression was one of disgust. “All of us fought so hard in that war, Cillian, and lost so much, we couldn’t let it go. We didn’t know what else to do—not that I’m making excuses. But now we can put things right.” He shook his head, his eyes flashing. “Plus, Stiles was a friend. Do you know what they did with his body? Tossed it aside. Not even good enough for a proper burial. It’s not right.”
Cillian didn’t know what to say. He’d never heard Dorian speak that much in all the time he’d known him. We’ve been such fools.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. All of you.” He was aware that eyes were on him, and the tension made his shoulders ache. “The source of this plan comes from data I recently received—”
“Where did you get this data?” Dorian narrowed his eyes with suspicion. Fair enough.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say at the moment.” No way was he letting Morgan’s name slip. Not yet. When it was all over, he would make sure she was properly recognized, but until then… Even now, the people here could betray him at any moment. If they did, at least Morgan could continue doing what she could. “I understand if that changes things for you. If you want to drop out, no hard feelings. All I ask is that you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, just give us a chance to—”
“What? And let you hog all the glory after it’s done? I fought in that war longer than you did, boy. If anyone’s going to liberate us now, I’m going to be at the head of it.” Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at Cillian.
Cillian’s human leg almost buckled under the relief. A man like Dorian Lancaster on their side…he’d never imagined such good fortune.
“It’s our honor to have you, Dorian. I know how to fight, but I know nothing about leading.” He meant every word. The older man’s chest expanded just a little and he seemed to grow taller. During the war, he’d had a reputation as a fearless unit leader. It was surprising he’d survived for long. It must’ve been a blow to have been relegated to The Vault after such a notable career.
Dorian brushed away the compliment, though Cillian didn’t miss the pleasure in his eyes. “I’d say you’ve done pretty well.” He winked. “For a boy.” He rubbed his hands together. “Okay, what’s the plan? No time to waste chatting when we could be prepping.” He seemed almost excited, feeding the hope that had begun to grow in Cillian. He could tell Beauty felt it too; her face had gained color and she stood by his side as an equal, rather than just behind his shoulder. His heart swelled with pride. She had made this possible. It was all he could do not to scoop her up in his arms in front of all these people and give her the kiss she deserved.
Later. It’ll give me something to live for.
It was difficult to speak to such a large crowd after hiding away for so long. He cleared his throat. “Okay, the plan is simple, but it relies on timing, and everyone working together.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “I’ll have to rejig it a bit, since I didn’t expect such illustrious company to be joining us.” He grinned in comradery at the other Collectors. “But it should work.” If we’re lucky.
“Dorian, I want you to be responsible for raiding the weapons caches. They’re kept in an underground storage facility on the outskirts of Grace Alpha.” He handed Dorian copies of the information he’d been given. “You can get most of the way there by shuttle. The weapons will be under armed guard, but most of those will be androids or other robots. You
won’t need to worry about them, but there will also be a few human guards. The number changes, according to the data I received, but it’s usually anywhere between ten and twelve. They haven’t yet realized Gideon is missing, so no alarm has been raised and they won’t be expecting you. You’ll have to take out the guards and secure the weapons then bring them back here.”
Dorian saluted sharply and clicked his heels. It gave Cillian the confidence boost he needed. His voice grew stronger as he hit his stride.
“Once the weapons are retrieved, I want you to arm everyone here. Dorian, Zaray, and Franklyn, each of you take a squad and figure out a defensive plan. You know better than I what works, so I’ll leave that in your hands.”
Zaray and Franklyn nodded, but Dorian eyed Cillian with a withering stare. “And what’ll you be doing during all this? From what it sounds like, we’ve got all the hard work.”
“You wanted the glory, didn’t you?” Cillian smirked at him. “Beauty and I will take down Wakelight, and with any luck, all of Grace Alpha. We’re going to infect the system, which will in turn not only affect Grace Alpha, but any other cities like The Vault that are still standing.”
Zaray, who until that moment had been observing silently, finally spoke up. “What about their soldiers? We couldn’t beat them the first time, back when we had a real army.”
Luckily, he had the answer for that. “Once Grace Alpha is knocked out, everything connected to it will fall. That includes android soldiers, mechs, watchers, drones, everything. Their army is nearly entirely machine-based—they don’t have enough humans for an actual force. Like us, they were decimated in the war. They’ll be all but defenseless.” Here came the rub. “Now, they will know that the destruction initiated in Wakelight, so they may try to come here and put on a show of strength, although that depends on who’s taking the lead. It’s not Gideon, so I can’t predict who will take over or what their strategy will be.”
Beauty elbowed him in the ribs, reminding him of the one thing he couldn’t forget. He raised his voice over the smattering of speculation that had broken out. “But, and I want to make it absolutely clear, do not attack anyone who comes to The Vault. I mean it,” he warned as angry murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Yes, they’ve stolen years from us, yes, some of them are willing to let us die, but not all of them. There are rebels in Grace Alpha who are making this possible. I know many of them are far from innocent, but if we keep fighting, there will be no one left. They will be stripped of life as they know it. You already know how to claw and scrape for what you have, and that fate will be a more fitting justice for them than death. Got it?”
It was incredibly idealistic, he knew, almost naïve, but it was the only way he could see for any of them to build a future. They would have to iron out the details later, but those of Grace Alpha would have no choice but to agree. Without the AI to think for them, they were going to have to open their eyes. And the people of The Vault would have to bury any thoughts of revenge. There was no other way it could work.
He looked out at the crowd, at the leaders of this new alliance. “Well?”
Dorian shrugged. “I’m a bit disappointed that we’re not allowed to slaughter them, but,” he turned to address the Guilds, “I agree, it’s the sane option.” The others, though clearly reluctant, nodded in agreement, and before Cillian knew what was happening, the room erupted. Some cheered, some booed good-naturedly, and the rest finally dared to voice their hope that this might actually work.
And it could. It had to.
At a pressure on his hand, he glanced down. Beauty smiled up at him, her face open and full of faith. “I think we might pull this off,” she whispered.
So did he. But it wouldn’t be the first time he’d looked around at the faces of men and women confident and ready to go into battle with the taste of victory on their tongues. It could all still go wrong, but if this was the end, at least they would die on their feet, fighting for their freedom.
As the Guilds mingled among themselves, trying to organize, Cillian turned to Beauty. “Are you ready?”
She rubbed her arms; a chill had settled over the cavern, signaling the impending change in weather. It had snowed before in Wakelight, he remembered, before The Vault. Perhaps this year they would get to see it.
“Do you think Wakelight knows? That we’re coming for it?” She gazed beyond him at their makeshift army with a thoughtful expression.
Did it? He didn’t think so. As far as he knew, the AI sensors were limited, focusing mostly on population, pollution, and other mundane things that didn’t enter the minds of those who lived there. It had always been like that.
“I don’t know. Are you worried?”
She paused then shook her head. “Not worried, exactly. More like sad. If we do this, Wakelight will die.” She didn’t have to elaborate. Wakelight had existed before they had, had engineered the daily elements of their lives. It had known everything about them from the moment they were born. Until the war, anyway. “It just feels so final. I mean, Wakelight betrayed us. It was supposed to care for us, to make sure all our needs were met, and then it allowed Grace Alpha to just take over.” She frowned. “Do you think Wakelight knows Grace Alpha is going to collapse The Vault? That we’re all supposed to die?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. He certainly didn’t want to think so. He’d grown up with the AI and had always thought of it as a sort of angel watching over them, attributing to it a kindness, a benevolence that may never have been there. But nothing was as it seemed. If they’d learned nothing else since the war, it was that.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
20
“Are you sure this is the right way?” She’d already asked him twice, but the tunnels all looked the same to her.
What if we’re going around in circles?
“If the map Morgan gave me is accurate, then yes. We’re on the right track. Keep in mind, they made it difficult to find on purpose.” How could he be so calm? Now that she knew how he felt about her, their mission had become more than a matter of life and death—it was the matter of a life with him.
She stole glances at him out the corner of her eye as they walked. He’d been so strong as he’d addressed the crowd, so confident, his head high. This was the man in her locket, her prince.
I knew he existed.
She resisted the urge to push him against the wall and run her hands all over him, memorizing every inch of him just in case.
How will I know what I want heaven to be otherwise?
But there was no time. It was happening too fast. Only a scant hour after Cillian had explained the plan, Dorian had led his pack of Guild members off on their mission, and the others had rushed away to prepare what they could, leaving her and Cillian alone to start their journey. There was no time to breathe, no time to say goodbye.
You don’t need to say goodbye.
Then why was there a sense of foreboding hanging over her?
It was Cybel’s fault. Once again, Cillian had forbidden her from coming with them. “You’re just too precious, Cybel,” he’d told her, but the little bot hadn’t believed a word of it.
“Too useless, you mean.”
“That’s not what I—”
But she’d rolled away, refusing to listen.
“Let her come, Cillian.” Beauty had tried to keep the rebuke out of her voice but failed miserably. “She wants to help. It hurts her that—”
“Beauty, she’s not hurt. She’s not sentient.” He squeezed her hand. “I know it seems like she is, but it’s just an incredibly sophisticated program.”
She wasn’t convinced. Too often Cybel had shown uncanny humor, anger, and empathy. “But how do you know?”
“I— Okay, I don’t know,” he admitted. He winced. “Do you think we should go back and get her?” The look on his face was one of guilt, and Beauty almost regretted scolding him. Almost, but not quite. “No, but you should make it up to her, you know, if we don’t die.” Sh
e’d meant it as a joke, but the reality of the situation was too stark, and it fell flat.
Even with Morgan’s map, it took them nearly an hour to find the entrance to the one tunnel that led straight to Wakelight. It had been so carefully disguised with debris they walked past it three times before cluing in. It took them another hour to carefully remove the rubble before Cillian was satisfied their tracks were sufficiently covered.
“We don’t want to advertise, just in case.”
The tunnel was so far out of the way it was unlikely anyone would stumble across it, but they couldn’t be too careful.
The passageway that led to City Hall was dark and narrow, the ceiling so low that Cillian had to stoop. At his insistence, Beauty walked behind him, one hand on his broad back.
The air inside was stale and oddly metallic, and the temperature dropped the further in they went.
“How long do you think it’s been since anyone was in here?” She held her light high, trying to illuminate as much of the tunnel as she could. Judging by the musty barrenness, it had been a long time.
“I’m not—” He stopped, wrapping his arm back around Beauty and holding a finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?”
Beauty bowed her head and listened. At first, she heard nothing but the sound of their breathing. “I don’t—” Wait. There. It wasn’t so much a sound as a disturbance in the air. “What is—”
“Stay here.” Cillian slipped around her and crept back the way they’d come, his footfalls so quiet he seemed to be floating. He disappeared around a corner, out of sight, the darkness swallowing him whole.
Had someone followed them? Was it a trap? Beauty clutched her light to her chest and counted. If he didn’t come back in thirty seconds, she was going after him.