Bridge_Bridge & Sword_Apocalypse

by JC Andrijeski

  “Got it,” Revik said, pulling the image from the other’s mind.

  At least they were still in New York.

  He shoved a few more magazines into the pockets of his vest.

  The guns were just back-up. He knew if he had to resort to those, he’d really be on his last legs. Even so, habit brought him here first, maybe just to give him something to do while the others worked, getting him the intel he needed.

  “You checked for reroutes?” he said.

  “Yes, of course, laoban.” Balidor hesitated, then made an eloquent wave with one hand. His back straightened. “Cass didn’t appear to be hiding. It seems her initial words, about wanting to arrange a meeting of some kind, were more or less accurate.”

  Revik nodded, once.

  “Who do you want with you, Nenz?” Wreg that time, speaking as quietly as Balidor. “We thought we should armor up,” the military commander added.

  His voice held a strange, faraway quality Revik didn’t recognize.

  “…Whoever you want,” Wreg added. “The rest will work from here, on the construct, as well as Barrier defense. They don’t appear to have a lot of numbers, not at the Tower itself, or much in the way of physical defense. A dozen or so guards at ground level. Another handful on the lower floors. A smaller contingent on the higher floors. One of those upgraded, sentient OBEs on the roof, another in the basement, cutting off sewer access. One at street level.”

  Revik glanced over, and Wreg shrugged, one-handed. Next to him, Jon stood silently, his face cold and taut with lack of expression, as if frozen.

  “…We think they’re banking on the construct for protection,” Wreg added. “Like in South America. They don’t seem to think they need much else. We’re checking now to see if they have it attuned to you in some way, like before, when the telekinesis tripped it.”

  “Where are we on cracking that?” Revik said. “Really cracking it?”

  If his telekinesis ended up being useless, this would be a damned short trip.

  “We can get you in,” Balidor said, speaking before Wreg. He cleared his throat, his voice quieter, but denser somehow. “We were able to map quite a bit, Nenz, based on what…”

  He trailed, stumbling over words.

  “…the Esteemed Bridge,” he said finally. “What she illuminated for us, when she entered that construct. Just now, when she attacked them––it was the best view we’ve gotten into one of their constructs yet.”

  Revik turned at Balidor’s words, feeling his shoulders tense.

  Looking over the line of faces, he suddenly saw Maygar there, looking paler than even Jon. Something in his son’s eyes reflected a little too closely the desolation Revik still felt seething in his own light, so he didn’t focus there long, either.

  “Jon and Maygar, you’re with me.” Revik felt Wreg stiffen, and nodded in his direction. “Wreg, I’d like you to come, too. I’d prefer it if Yumi, Tenzi and Balidor stayed here to lead the construct team. I’d like Vik on communications here. I’d prefer Jorag driving… or Jax. Other than those I’ve named, I’d like to have Neela, Gar, Illeg, Torek, Declan, Loki, Raddi and Chinja, if that’s not objectionable to any of them. Other volunteers are welcome, but I’d like to keep it under thirty. Too many and it’ll just slow us down, and I doubt it will help us, anyway. If it comes to that, bring the flyers in from outside and burn the fucking place to the ground. That might still need to happen anyway.”

  Revik scanned faces, his jaw hardening in the silence.

  He didn’t need to say it. They already understood.

  There was a good chance none of them would be coming back from this trip.

  If he couldn’t take Shadow and Cass out, he’d already given orders to Balidor to use the last contingency to take out their base in the event he failed. That meant any building where they might be hiding, any ship they might be fleeing in, any submarine or land vehicle.

  Anything.

  Revik told Balidor to nuke them, if he had to.

  For the same reason, he deliberately phrased his personnel preferences as a request, not as an operational order. For this kind of run, he would take volunteers only, even in terms of Jon and Wreg. Seeing that understanding reflected in the eyes that met his, along with the answer that stood there, consistent across every face, Revik only nodded.

  “Fine.” He looked at Balidor directly. “Have transport ready, like we talked about. We might not need it, but it’d be nice to be prepared.”

  “Of course, Illustrious Sword.” Balidor’s voice held an overt deference. “I will take care of it. As well as transport for your leadership team to the rendezvous.”

  Revik grunted, flashing briefly to the two of them circling one another in the Tank for some reason, when Balidor had threatened to kick the shit out of him, and Revik told him he’d kill him the first chance he got.

  Pushing the thought out of his mind before he could follow the thread, or let himself remember exactly why he’d wanted so badly to hurt the other man, he turned away from the Adhipan leader.

  He made his mind blank again, as much as he could.

  “Arm yourselves.” Focusing back on the shelves, he made himself look at the guns lying there as he continued to speak in a toneless voice. “Say your goodbyes. Get whatever you need to bring with you. Take care of whatever you need to take care of before we go. I want everyone with me fitted with full combat tech.”

  He picked up another Glock, opened it, checked the chamber.

  “We leave in twenty,” he said, clicking it shut. “With or without you.”

  35

  STREET FIGHTIN’ MAN

  DESPITE WHAT REVIK said about Jorag driving, he changed his mind at the last minute, and had them go by foot.

  It was an instinct thing. He didn’t bother to question the impulse; he just followed it.

  They walked through the park instead.

  He didn’t mind walking. He wanted the extra time to think––without standing still.

  Despite the periodic tremors in his light, warnings from beyond the Barrier or whatever else, he didn’t foresee much resistance to their entry of the building itself, not given the bullshit games Cass and Shadow seemed to enjoy playing.

  They wanted him to come.

  That could be the only meaning of the transmission from Cass to their suite. He believed Cass’s surprise around seeing Allie conscious; they’d had no idea she would be with him, much less that she’d be awake.

  That transmission was meant for him. They were fucking with him, dangling his kid before him, trying to get him to lose his cool and come after them. In other words, he was doing pretty much exactly what they wanted.

  He didn’t care.

  He knew Shadow, and the way Shadow thought. Revik knew he bluffed, although he tended to do so only when he had an intimate knowledge of his opponent. Revik knew himself better now, too. Thanks to Allie, he knew more about what he’d become, what happened to him during those years. He knew more about his emotional Achilles’ heels. He knew more about how Menlim manipulated him in the past.

  He had a pretty good idea what Menlim would expect him to do.

  He knew he probably couldn’t avoid being predictable in all respects. Truthfully, he’d counted on Allie for that before. Allie had a tendency to think about things differently than most seers anyway, possibly because she’d been raised human, or possibly because she didn’t have a military background, like most of the seers Revik knew.

  Or possibly, just because she was the Bridge.

  Allie wasn’t here, though; Revik would have to count on surprising Menlim some other way. He figured the easiest way to do that was to try and stay connected to whatever he could feel of Allie behind the Barrier.

  So far, that hadn’t been much.

  He knew there was supposedly a “blackout” period right after a person died, during which they couldn’t communicate much with the other side.

  He knew that, but he kept trying to resonate with her light, anyway
.

  He supposed some part of him still hoped she would come out of that blackout by the time he really needed her. If not, he’d have to rely on Balidor and Tarsi to throw wrenches into the works. Both of them seemed to understand this about him, and why he needed this from them.

  Tarsi, especially, seemed to understand, although she’d been unusually reticent, even for her, when she heard about Allie’s death.

  She hadn’t even offered condolences.

  Then again, he hadn’t been much use to her when Vash died, either.

  Nor had he been much comfort to Jon or anyone else that night––or this one, for that matter.

  Revik didn’t really understand his wife’s relationship with his blood aunt, anyway. Like Allie’s relationship with Vash, it always felt like none of his business. She was the Bridge. She would have relationships with these high-ranked seers, including Vash, including his aunt, including the Council, including Balidor––relationships that had nothing to do with him.

  Revik could feel these things, these connections, without understanding them.

  Luckily, he had a personality that didn’t require him to understand them.

  Maybe that was the military background, too, bleeding over into the rest of his life, like it tended to do. He cared about his relationship with her.

  The rest of Allie’s life was hers to lead however she chose.

  Vash once called him “wise” for taking that approach. Then he smiled and told Revik he was still a street fighter at heart. Practical to the bone. Only concerned with relevant details. Single-minded, even when he pretended he wasn’t.

  Vash’s description mostly made Revik laugh.

  The old man could be monumentally full of shit, at times.

  Still, Revik wished Vash was here now.

  He supposed he would be seeing him again, soon enough.

  His eyes scanned the dark trees, lawn and paths of the park, his fingers gripping the holster of the gun that hung off his left hip.

  So far, they hadn’t run into a single damned thing out here. The silence felt ominous.

  It also gave his mind room to drift.

  The idea of being with Vash again, with his mother, his father, his sister, his best friend from childhood, Kuchta––it did soften things somewhat, when he let himself go there.

  He couldn’t conceive of what that might be like, seeing those people in that other place. He knew he gave those meetings physical attributes they wouldn’t share with being alive down here, but it was all he had. Unlike Allie seemed to, even from a very young age, Revik couldn’t remember what life had been like in the spaces beyond the Barrier.

  He could catch glimpses of those places, impressions of beautiful landscapes, feelings of love, family, oneness, rest. He could see people he recognized, mostly with her, but they were like paintings to him, like smoke, too far away to feel real.

  It was too early to think about this, though.

  He would think about this after.

  That, or he’d die before he finished, and learn about it when he got there, the way most people did.

  Balidor, Yumi and Tarsi continued to work the construct side of things. Revik suspected Jon was still his best hope for Cass herself, in the event he needed to get past her defenses, in the psychological sense, that is.

  Then there was Terian.

  Funnily enough, despite his fears around Shadow making Feigran active again, Revik had a harder time factoring “The Rook” into his planning in a way that made sense to him. Technically, he knew Terian better than the other two––personally and otherwise––but he wasn’t sure how to catalogue him precisely, in terms of threats.

  Truthfully, he couldn’t wrap his mind around a Terian who answered to either Cass or Shadow, much less both of them at once.

  Part of his mind still saw him as Feigran.

  Feigran in a Terian mask.

  Even under Galaith, Terian was never very good at following orders.

  This strangely compliant, backseat Terian felt like a different breed of seer than the one he remembered from their checkered past. Revik didn’t know whether to dismiss this version of Terian altogether, expect him to emerge as extra muscle on the telekinetic front, or view him as the usual wildcard the old Terian always posed––someone capable of doing the unexpected thing in the least likely of circumstances.

  Tabling that thought, Revik focused on what he did know.

  They wanted him to come.

  He could guess why, but none of those guesses satisfied him, or felt right to the segments of his light he still trusted. They must know by now they’d killed Allie, and therefore, that they’d killed him. They would expect that to make him desperate––highly motivated, at the very least.

  They’d dangled the kid in front of him.

  They must have known how intensely he’d react to that, especially given how much she looked like his now-late wife.

  They obviously meant to use the child to bring him to them.

  But why? That part still fought with reason in the back of his mind.

  If they wanted him dead, there were easier ways.

  His logical mind told him they probably didn’t want him dead, given that. He could come up with reasons for that, but they were theoretical, at best. The strongest of those, in terms of motives Menlim might care about, concerned his reproductive ability. Elaerian or not, Terian could be sterile. A hell of a lot of Sark males were born sterile; it was highly probable a good chunk of Elaerian males were, too.

  Perhaps that made Revik even more valuable than his wife, in Shadow’s eyes.

  If they still hadn’t figured out a viable means of cloning Elaerian, given their touchier light-to-matter relationship and the inability to pull a soul with the proper attributes from the lands beyond the Barrier, Revik might seem their best bet in breeding more telekinetics.

  Maybe they thought they could get enough biological matter off him to create at least one more Elaerian child, this time with Cassandra, maybe.

  That didn’t feel right to Revik either, though.

  No, there was something else.

  Something they wanted from him. Something Menlim wanted from him.

  Something less obvious, perhaps.

  Revik knew his resonance to Menlim and the Dreng lived there still, in some parts of his structure. It might always live there, given how he’d been raised, but he doubted it was enough to flip him, even if he wasn’t a dead man walking right now.

  But thinking about how he’d been raised only reminded him Menlim would be doing the same thing to his daughter now. The thought choked him, made it hard to breathe.

  His daughter.

  Their daughter.

  The thought of her drowning in the light of the Dreng, being forced to resonate with it, to become one with those hard, silver strands––it made him physically sick. Beyond sick. He could scarcely think about it without wanting to scream.

  He already knew what he would do, though.

  He would kill her before he let that happen to her.

  Let her come back some other way, if she so chose––but not like this. He wouldn’t leave her here, like he’d been left. He wouldn’t let her suffer a life like the one he’d been forced to lead, where all she could do was pay and pay and pay for the sin of being left behind. He wouldn’t let her accrue the life-debt from what she would become, living under Menlim’s care.

  No, if he couldn’t get her out, he’d kill her.

  More to the point, Balidor would kill her for him.

  His daughter would leave with him and Allie––with both of them.

  Let her come back later, maybe when Allie and Revik themselves did. Maybe even with them, in some other part of this life-wave. Some quieter, gentler moment in history.

  Daughter, sister, friend.

  Clenching his jaw to fight back the swell of emotion that rose at the thought, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He blurted the question to Wreg before he’d let himself think ab
out what he was saying.

  “Where did you put her?” he said, without slowing his strides. “Allie?”

  Revik felt the other man turn, although he couldn’t see him in the dark. There were no stars; no moon rose in that pitch-black sky. The air still reeked of smoke from the fires.

  Even so, he felt Wreg stare at him blankly, walking across the same patch of lawn alongside the trees of Central Park East. The Chinese infiltrator seemed totally confused by the question at first, unsure what Revik had even asked him.

  It ended up being Jon who answered, who walked on Wreg’s other side.

  “We put her in your bed,” Jon said simply.

  Revik felt something in his chest relax.

  “Okay,” he said. “Good.”

  He didn’t know why he’d wanted to know, or why Jon’s answer filled him with relief. It did, though. He could almost see her there, lying peacefully under the blankets. He knew she wasn’t there, not really, but somehow, the image brought him a vague kind of peace.

  “Good,” he said again, his jaw clenching. “Thank you.”

  He felt the others exchange glances.

  Jon, however, only dismissed his words with a shrug.

  “Balidor did it,” he explained.

  Revik nodded, placing his feet on the dark grass.

  “Good,” he said again.

  A few of them continued to stare at him.

  He could feel sadness on them, especially Garensche, who hadn’t stopped crying since they’d left through the front doors of the hotel. Jon mostly felt blank, which is probably how Revik felt to the rest of them.

  Revik couldn’t care about that, either.

  Frankly, it was too late.

  He felt the shield of light around him from Jon, who managed to hold it together with what Balidor reconstructed out of the structures of Allie’s light. Revik hadn’t tried to understand that part of what they did to help him. He didn’t try to delve too far into predictions about how well or how long that reconstituted shield might hold, or where the weak points would be. He let the others take care of that part, and take care of him.

  He trusted Balidor. He trusted Jon.