The Reformation

by Garggie Talukdar

  “Will you be able to guide Fey if I get through?” There were footsteps thundering closely.

  “I thought that she was blind?” Z briefly paused and Jan guessed that his idea had just dawned on the mechanic. “Jan this isn’t a go-”

  “I can see, more or less. Enough to get by.” Fey interrupted, her quiet voice still somehow managing to sound authorative and pissed.

  Jan let out a wry smile. And then, he grabbed Fey’s hand and charged into the sight of the sea of soldiers, gun raised and ready to fire.

  Thirty

  REBEL STRONGHOLD, OUTSKIRTS OF LONDON, NNR | JUNE 20, 326 T.E | 15:20

  THE reinforcements were clearly not expecting Fey and Jan to shoot directly at them, so for that split-second advantage that they had when the enemies’ mouths were open in surprise and their own guns were spitting out bullets, January was thankful.

  Three out of the maybe-thirteen fell before their own guns were up, giving Jan time to run up the stairs, pulling Fey along as he did, further up where the rebels couldn’t see them.

  “You alright?” he gruffly asked Fey, and the girl reloaded her gun, eyes shining with exhilaration.

  “Of course, I am. Where are we?”

  “Beneath them,” Fey gave him a look of disbelief, so Jan continued, “Spiral staircase.”

  There was a grunt, almost indiscernible from the rapid fire, but January heard it, and Jan’s hand immediately flew to his comm. “Z?”

  “I’m here, Jan.”

  “We have 10 now-” Jan started, but the mechanic quickly spoke up.

  “9.” Z corrected. “8, if that guy can just stay still.”

  “What do you-” Jan pushed back against the wall behind him, a bullet nearly embedding itself into his shoulder. “-mean?”

  “The control room was unguarded, minus one now unconscious man who is missing his rifle. I can give you some cover.”

  January felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Impressive. Is the control room secured?”

  “For now. I need to go back, so I’ll give you guys some cover, and then you’re on your own.”

  “Thanks,” The line went dead as Jan carefully treaded up the stairs slightly, careful to stay out of firing range, when he heard: “There’s someone on this floor!”

  January almost grinned at the frantic tone in the rebel’s voice, but he knew he only had so much time, so he whispered ‘let’s go’ to Fey, and ran up the stairs, gun in hand. Luckily, Fey seemed to have caught the fact that cooperation was key, and so her feet were unusually quiet as Jan phantomly crept up the stairs in front of her. Z could only keep up the cover for so long, and January intended to use it.

  Fortunately, they almost had it three-fourths of the way, positioned so that the rebels couldn’t get a good shot at them again, when fire at them picked up again. Jan had no choice but to groan as he dropped for shelter, Fey only joining him when she blindly shot back and heard a couple sounds similar to bodies hitting the ground.

  Jan gritted his teeth as he pressed into the railing behind him, the metal pushing painfully into his back. “Do you think you can give me cover?” he asked Fey, and the girl nodded cocking her gun. Before she did anything else however, she dug in her bag before handing him one of the dime sized bombs Z made. Jan wordlessly took the Cerberus with a slight nod, slipping it into his pocket.

  “On 3. 1, 2, 2 and-a-half, 3.”

  They both sprung up, Fey pulling out yet another gun, firing rapidly as Jan stole the moment to run up the stairs, avoiding bullets until he made it to where the railing became a short concrete wall, and he knew that just around the corner were the reinforcements, but he still reached for his comm.

  “Can you see well enough to tell me which way I should shoot?” he whispered, the exchanging gunshots proving enough sound so that the enemy that was so unbearably close to him, wouldn’t be able to hear him.

  “Yep,” she said, panting. “If you keep your arm at a 90 degree-” There was a brief pause where she was presumably returning fire, and with grim satisfaction, Jan heard cursing from the armed rebels beside him. “At a 90-degree angle, just put it out by an inch or two.”

  “That’s oddly-” he held his arm out like directed, shooting a round of 6 bullets. “Mathematical,” he finished, pressing himself into the wall again.

  “Worked, didn’t it?” Fey shot back, smug.

  “Sure.” He raised himself slightly, only his eyes above the wall, and took a quick shot at someone who seemed to be getting close to Fey with their shots. “You’re welcome.”

  “And you’re an ass. I need to get up there. Set the Cerberus on one.”

  “You can get up here that fast?” Regardless, he took out the bomb, his finger hovering over the small button that would set it off.

  “Don’t insult me and just deploy the damn bomb.”

  Mouth fixed in a scowl, Jan tapped the button once, watching as the ring glowed green. Then, crouched low to the ground, he slid it on the floor, the tiny bomb settling in the midst of the rebels. Sheltering his head, he counted down mentally, immediately tensing as he hit one. And then a small explosion went off, effectively distracting and shocking the reinforcements, allowing Fey to run up the stairs two at a time to crouch down beside Jan, out of breath. She thrust her bag into his surprised chest, opening the front pockets.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, harshly, trying to keep his voice to a minimum. She pulled out a spherical object, shoving Jan over so she was closer to the rebels. “Your sight is better, I’m guessing,” he grumbled.

  “Pull out the goggles, put a pair on yourself. They’re dazed, but in order for us to get up there and finish them, they need to be blind. Hence,” she rolled the ball in her hand. “the gas bomb.”

  “And the glasses?” he asked disbelievingly as he handed a pair to her. She grinned: “We need to be able to shoot them, right? You’ll be able to see with those on, believe me.” Zipping up her pack and slinging it over her shoulder, she pulled her arm back, counting down.

  And then she threw the ball, smoke exploding out of it, effectively blocking the air. “Goggles,” she reminded, pulling on her pair, and Jan followed her lead.

  January had no idea what Z made, but whatever it was, it worked. While before his vision was almost black and smudgy, now he could distinctly make out the figures, although everything was cloaked in shadow. He slid out to the platform where the unsuspecting rebels were confusedly flailing, and he shot.

  There was a thud immediately, along with a figure dropping, before Jan had to move out of the way, as the rebels immediately swerved and started to shoot from where they heard the gunshots. He ran over to where he shot someone down, shoving his semi into his holster for the fallen rebel’s SMG instead. Shooting rapidly at a cluster of two or three rebels, Jan dove out of the way again, taking shelter behind a door. He watched as Fey made a few shots, almost all of which just missed their target, which was odd seeing as Fey was normally a crack shot.

  “You okay, Downcley?” he asked through the comm.

  “The smoke isn’t doing my already impaired vision a favour,” she said, ducking as she pushed her guns into her holster, instead pulling out twin knives. “But don’t you dare pull me out before I’ve had my fun.”

  She slid on the floor, and with either knife-wielding hand, cut the legs of the rebels on the sides of her, causing more than one soldier to fall in pain. Coming out of his hiding place, Jan took the job of pointing his gun down and finishing the job for Fey, but before he could help her with those standing, he saw a rebel level a gun at him. Before he could shoot, however, the whirlwind of Fey Downcley came upon him, stabbing him in the back. He let out a little gasp, and Fey sunk a knife in the front too for finality before sliding them both out.

  “Are we done?” she asked, panting. Jan nodded, but before he could say anything, another shot rang out, and with a yelp, Fey crumpled to the ground.

  There was a rebel, weakly holding up a gun, but before she could move to shoot Jan,
Fey pulled out another of her knives and whipped it at her, the knife sinking into her shoulder, and Jan lifted his gun and shot a round at her before she fell to the ground, completely dead this time. “You okay?” he asked gruffly.

  “Of course, I just fell for no reason,” she muttered, swearing.

  “I’ll help you up, and comm in Z. He needs to get you to safety.”

  “And you?” she asked, grimacing as he hauled her up to her feet, moving to turn on her comm.

  “More reinforcements are coming. Everyone knows there are intruders. How long will you need?”

  “30 minutes,” Jan swore, pulling her arm over his shoulders as they hobbled towards where Z was supposed to appear.

  “We’ll meet in 30 minutes by the truck then.”

  “There you guys are!” Z announced, sighing as he took in their forms. Helping Jan with Fey, he gestured towards the door he just came out of. “Let’s go.”

  “No, you go.” Z looked confused, so Jan continued. “I’ll distract, you infiltrate. Fey knows when we’re meeting. Go.” And with that, his leg starting to protest in pain, he ran off.

  …

  He got lost sometime in the 30 minutes, and completely forgot about the comms until he heard some buzzing as he holed himself in a random dark room, hiding from 6 armed rebels.

  He argued with Fey a bit, his leg making him woozy with pain, and the phone that he had long since forgotten, chimed, making him jump before he swore for being so on edge. It was the map that Jax had managed to send them, and so Jan zoomed in the most he could, trying to make out where he was. So he had come up the Center Staircase with Z and Fey, which led them to the bridge that Z had crossed before it collapsed. Then, he and Fey had grappled down back to the main floor, where they turned left and went up a separate staircase. They only went to the second level, where Fey left with Z, and Jan had continued down the hall, which was a square surrounding the open atrium. Jan assumed that the control room was the large glass room that was in the middle of said atrium, so he had to make sure that the guards followed him away from any of the entrances so Fey and Z could sneak in, wherever the hell they were.

  Jan assumed he was on the third floor, he had taken a staircase—somewhere in the blur of his memory—and was on some side in a room close to a staircase. That left him with four options, all of which were conveniently placed close to the entrances. Trying to calm his nerves with a deep exhale, Jan moved to pull out his gun when he remembered that he had lost all of his weapons during a particularly hot pursuit, and he cursed again. Then, steading his breath to ready himself for some stealth and combat, he opened the door and carefully slipped out.

  He had decided to take the room he locked himself in when there were shots trailing at his heels, but after being pressed up against the doors for a few minutes, he collected the information that the rebel guards that were his newest fans-with-guns (as Z dubbed them sometime during an earlier mission) were going to split up so they could cover more ground. Now he hid around a corner while he listened for the footsteps that were approaching him.

  As soon as the guard neared, Jan stepped soundlessly out of the shadows using one hand to muffle the guard’s mouth, and his other arm to hold him in a headlock, pulling him back into the room that Jan had just come out of. After quickly locking the door, Jan pushed a little harder until the guard’s breathing slowed and Jan was confident that he was unconscious. Quickly stripping the guard out of his uniform, Jan changed into it, the shirt a little too short and snug across his shoulders, but Jan figured it would do.

  Ripping his own clothes, Jan made a makeshift bandage for his slight flesh wound out of the material of his shirt, grimacing as the cloth shifted against the injury. But he once again had a weapon by his side, so it was good enough, January supposed.

  “Jan?” Z’s voice buzzed in Jan’s ear, and January instinctively drew out his new gun, then swore loudly when he realized it was only the mechanic. “January.”

  “Yes, Z?” he sighed, shoving the gun back in its place.

  “The plan won’t work. The place is on lockdown; we know because all the screens lit up in alarm. There’s still a way out of here, but we all need to be together.”

  “You want me to go to the control room?” Jan asked disbelievingly, stashing away the unconscious guard in a corner. “I just spent the last half an hour trying to get away from there.”

  “Perfect!” Z announced, and Jan glared at the air as if the mechanic was there. “Knock out the first stanza of the national anthem when you get here.”

  “No one knows you’re there?”

  “No battering rams yet. Hurry.”

  Cursing at him yet again, Jan let out a deep breath as he crumpled the ridiculous hat that was part of the uniform in his hand, unlocking the door and steeling his face to walk as inconspicuously to the control room as possible.

  “Azaway, isn’t it?” A voice called out, and by the tone, January guessed that it was a voice he shouldn’t ignore. He turned giving a salute to the woman who stood before him, wearing a uniform that was branded with blue at the edges which marked her as the captain. “I know you are on your first day, an eventful one at that, but you know that the hat is required.”

  January let out a mental sigh, nodding as he slipped the hat over his head. “Of course, ma’am.”

  “You learn quick. Tell me Azaway, if you were the loyalist, where would you hide?”

  “If I knew that, ma’am, with all due respect, we would’ve found him by now. If we haven’t already, I could check the control room, however.” He stood stoically, though his heart was racing as he could have just possibly exposed them all.

  She blinked.

  “Check the control room, Azaway.” And with a quick duck of the head, January walked towards the control room entrance, breaths unusually steady for someone who almost got caught. Thank heavens that Azaway was on his first day.

  Jan moved his hand so he was fixing his hat, though he discretely pressed his comm with his thumb, unsure if the captain was still watching. “Z, change of plans. I’m almost at the control room door, but you have to leave it unlocked and hide away from sight. It has to appear that the room is unlocked and empty. You understand?”

  Z didn’t miss a beat. “If you don’t come in the next 60 seconds, this door is locked.”

  It only took 5 seconds for Jan to reach the door and, muttering a prayer that was suspiciously in the tune of the national anthem, January pressed down on the handle and swung it open to find that the door indeed was unlocked, and that yes, it appeared that the room looked empty. He slid in, closing the door behind him.

  “Z, can you—why the hell is a guard—oh, it’s you, Jan.” Fey said, cutting off each thought until she reached her conclusion, out of breath.

  “Indeed, it is,” he snarled, whipping the hat off of his head. He turned to Z who was locking the door. “They’re going to be suspicious soon. Is the information almost processed?”

  “It is,” Fey announced, holding up a hard drive. “And it’s staying with Z, because he is the least likely to blow up among us.”

  “You cursed me now,” Z responded, grabbing the hard drive. “And don’t worry Jan, we have a plan-”

  “That will probably fail,” Fey interjected cheerfully.

  “-that will probably fail, but still has a higher chance of success than any other option. While all exit doors are locked due to lock down, they leave the elevators open. And that’s because you need ID of authorized personnel held against a sensor for it to work.”

  “Do we have the ID?” Jan asked.

  “No.”

  “Well the-” before Jan could continue, however, there was a crackling noise that made the three of them stop in their tracks.

  “Come in, Cadet Azaway. Report to Major Alpha, over.”

  Jan moved towards the mic, licking his lips before pressing down on the receiver. “Come in, Major Alpha. Cadet Azaway 7104. Control room clear, over.” Z and Fey both looked at him w
ide eyed, and Jan himself felt surprised at the numbers that came out of his mouth, but he remembered the serial number on the boy’s arm, tattooed proudly in black ink on his forearm as many young rebels did.

  “Roger that,” Letting go of the receiver, Jan sighed, rising up to his full height.

  “We need to get out; they’re suspicious.”

  “Obviously!” Fey cried out, her eyesight apparently recovered as she swatted him. “Why the hell did you respond; they’ll be here within minutes,” she hissed, stalking over to the other side of the room towards the door.

  “Are the bombs yet up?” Jan asked Z, ignoring Fey completely. Z nodded, and Fey huffed. “Good. And the reason why I answered, Downcley,” Jan said, giving her a side eye, “is because they would be here even sooner if I didn’t answer at all.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered darkly, turning towards a monitor.

  Rolling his eyes, Jan turned in the same direction as Z, so he faced the small map that Z had pulled up. “So which way is the elevator?”

  “Second door to your right if you take the South exit of this room,” a voice spoke up, and Jan swerved to see the captain, pressing the barrel of a gun to a wide-eyed Fey’s temple, her severe face smiling. “But I don’t think that you’ll need to use that.”

  Shit.

  Thirty-One

  REBEL STRONGHOLD, OUTSKIRTS OF LONDON, NNR | JUNE 20, 236 T.E. | 15:21

  “I NEED a bandage,” Fey rasped out as soon as they turned the corner, gunfire thrumming not too far from their heels. “And a way to magically cure semi-blindness.”

  “We’re currently short on both,” Z shot back, not unfeelingly as he pushed the door closest to them open. “We’re not too far from the control room, but they’re too close. How the hell did they find us anyway?”

  “Jan apparently sucks at his job,” Fey sighed, hobbling over to the wall to prop herself again as she opened her backpack, waving off Z’s attempts to help her. “It’s a clean shot, and it barely hurts. I’ll bandage up with whatever I have left in this sack, and you start setting up bombs.”