by T. C. Edge
Because, really, it’s so obvious what this is about.
“Rycard,” she whispers. “He’s…he’s been discharged…”
Yep, that’s what I thought.
“Is he here?” I ask.
She shakes her head, pulling a handkerchief from her purse and dabbing her eyes.
“He wouldn’t come. Not after everything. I thought I’d better…you know, to keep up appearances. But…but I’m worried, Brie. I’m so worried.”
She begins to shake, and I pull her into a hug.
“It’s OK,” I whisper, shushing her. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll help you. It’ll all be fine in the end, you’ll see…”
Her weak eyes rise up again, stiffening.
“You really think so?”
“Of course. I promise.”
My words are mostly empty of real meaning. They’re the sort of clichéd offerings you give to someone in such a state, words to do nothing but give them some of your strength, show them that you’re right there with them, and that they don’t have to go through it all alone.
It’s obvious from Sophie’s expression that, whatever show she puts on, she has been going through this alone for some time. That she doesn’t really have anyone to talk to, no one to lay bare her soul to, to shed all her worries and concerns and hear the very words I’m telling her: that it will be OK.
And regaining her lost composure, she quickly pulls herself back together, refusing to surrender to anything but a brief moment of weakness. Raising that familiar false smile, she nods and sniffs her last.
“You’re right,” she says. “It’ll…all be fine.”
She’s lying. She doesn’t think that at all. And in truth, I’m lying too. Because I know, really, that she, and her family, are in real danger now of being cast out.
But there’s one thing I’m not lying about. I will help her. That’s a promise that I’ll always keep, no matter what.
And as I smile back supportively, a sudden hush begins to flow from the front stands, and the great mass of City Guards ahead stand up straight and to attention, all their bodies stiffening as one. Their eyes raise up, and so do those of the entire congregation, and from the shadows at the rear of the balcony, a man comes.
Dressed in a dazzling white, and with a head of neat grey hair and calm blue eyes, Commander Fenby advances. He moves straight towards the front of the balcony, his step precise and smooth, and surveys all the gathered people before him.
An unearthly silence fills the air, showing the deep levels of reverence these people hold for their leaders, and I wait in breathless anticipation for the Commander’s first words.
But they never come.
Because from a high angle off to the left, a pulse of blue light fills the air, spreading from the window of a nearby building and galloping straight for the balcony. I catch it immediately in my peripheral vision, somewhere above me, and with a tension gripping at my heart, activate my Hawk and Dasher powers together to slow the flow of light to my eyes.
I watch now, with the world moving at a crawl around me, as the light zips straight for the balcony, connecting with an invisible shield around it. Immediately, bright blue sparks begin to fizz and crackle, eating away at the force field, and as it does, another flash brightens above, and a loud snap echoes across the square.
Still staring at the disintegrating shield, I see Commander Fenby turning his gaze up, his eyes widening with an element of confusion. Then, as the barrier before him melts, the shape of a single bullet cuts straight through a tiny gap, moving so fast I can barely pick it up.
Through it goes, sent by an expert marksman hidden from sight, and cutting a path right for Commander Fenby’s head. Before he can react – before anyone can react – the bullet imbeds itself into his skull, and emerges from the other side, leaving nothing but a circle of red in its wake, and a splash of crimson on the wall of the balcony behind.
For a second, as the echo of gunfire bounds down the streets of Inner Haven, no one does anything. And then, as Commander Fenby collapses to the floor, the world erupts into chaos.
And along with it, more gunfire comes.
93
The chattering of voices that preceded the arrival of Commander Fenby has now been replaced with the chattering of gunfire.
It comes from above and below. It comes from the left and right. Within barely a split second, every single person in attendance has begun to rush; some rushing away in fright, others rushing into the fray, searching frantically for the source.
The rattle of gunfire, coming from various angles, ends almost as abruptly as it starts. Immediately, however, my reaction is to hover low and hunt for the source as others are, dragging Sophie down with me.
Ahead, I look to see the City Guard spreading off in various directions, turning their minds from the ceremony and to their work. Dashers zip away, Hawks send forward their eyes, Bats listen for further signs of imminent gunfire.
But it ends quickly, and suddenly the street fills with nothing but screaming and clamouring and the heavy sound of pounding feet as thousands of people stand up and run.
I’m not one of them. I only stand but don’t run. Next to me, Sophie stays low under my command, my voice ordering for her to stay down should a fresh assault come.
Activating my Hawk powers, I look forward and scan the scene, trying to pick out any possible culprits, see some familiar face.
And familiar they will be. Because this attack can only have come from the Nameless.
Scanning, I watch as the Savants move back to the High Tower in a strangely orderly fashion. They don’t fling themselves about like the Unenhanced women around me, shrieking and crying and losing all sense of city etiquette as they charge off down the street as fast as their dainty legs will carry them.
No, Savants don’t behave like that, even in a crisis. Instead, they move at a controlled speed, reaching the doors of the High Tower and quickly disappearing inside without a fuss. Meanwhile, their regular Enhanced counterparts – those not involved with the City Guard – act in a similar fashion to the Unenhanced, rushing off using whatever gifts they’ve been given to get to safety as soon as possible.
Before long, the stands are clearing and the City Guard have formed a protective cordon around the place. Ahead, I see Deputy Burns managing things, pointing this way and that and working behind the vast protective frames of a number of armoured Brutes.
Already, I know, he’ll have the Stalkers hunting the assailants down, just as they did after the Nameless took control of the feed during the previous ceremony. It seems they rather enjoy interrupting these events, although this time it’s very different.
Last time, it was all about sending a message, getting in front of all of Outer Haven to send them a warning of the troubles to come. This time, however, they had something more sinister in mind.
They’ve just murdered a member of the Consortium. They’ve just assassinated one of the senior ranking Savants in this city. And, for my money, they’ve just made my job a hell of a lot harder.
What the hell is going on!
As Sophie continues to try to drag me down from my feet, calling for me to get down, I just stare out in anger and confusion. But there’s no fear in me. I know who did this, and I know they’ve done what they came here to do.
And I know, too, why my brother has been so busy lately. This attack has his fingerprints all over it. And clearly, it required a lot of planning.
But it’s over now, I know that. They killed the man they came here to kill, and they most likely continued to fire to cause chaos among the people, to create a diversion to help them escape. If they’re the good people I hope they are, they won’t have seen the need to murder anyone else today.
So I continue to scan forward to make sure, to check for other bodies. I see none. None that are dead or being treated, at least. Instead, I see hectic activity and rushing figures, all darting here and there as they try to figure out what the hell just hap
pened.
But among those rushing bodies, one stands completely still. Swaying my vision across the stage, I see the close up face of Agent Woolf staring right back at me. My heart skips a beat and I zoom back with my eyes, returning my sight to normal. She’s a long way away, sixty metres or so, and yet still, she’s staring.
Damn…
“OK Sophie, we have to go. Right now.”
I grab Sophie’s arm and pull her to her feet. She’s trembling, her eyes alert. Turning her, we begin moving down the street away from the cold gaze of the woman who won’t leave me alone; this unstoppable, undeviating robot who seems hell-bent on making my life a misery.
As I work away with Sophie, heading west, my mind works quickly.
Did she see me like Titus did in the marshes, using my Hawk eyes? How could she from that distance? She’s just a Mind-Manipulator, not a Hawk. There’s no way she could tell…
I work my way to a solution that helps settle my pacing heart. Strange, really, that it’s a simple look at her face that sends my pulse galloping more than the sound of gunfire, and the sight of a man having his head cut through by a sniper bullet.
I can’t keep going like this. I need that woman gone.
As we move quickly towards the Inner Spiral, I turn to Sophie and lift her up to her full height. Until now, she’s been walking at a crouch, as if expecting a fresh barrage of gunfire to come flashing from the buildings above.
“It’s OK now, Soph, it’s fine, it’s over,” I say.
Her eyes maintain that heavy cloak of shock. It’s another thing that’s changed in me so fast, my own complexion calm and body primed for just about anything.
“Where’s your car, Sophie? I’ll take you home,” I continue.
With a shivering hand, she points towards an underground parking lot, the same one we used the first time she brought Tess and me here.
At a jog, I lead her down into the darkness, and set about putting her into her car. We have to dodge a few vehicles as we go, the place quickly emptying out as a stream of computer-driven cars begin working their way up onto the street and away to the various coils of Inner Haven.
Climbing into Sophie’s car, I ask her her address. She seems so scrambled that she’s barely able to remember. I flash inside her mind and find it for myself, passing the order for the vehicle to drive out towards the Outer Spiral on the western edge of Inner Haven.
We join the traffic, which flows along steadily, unlike across the border. Over in Outer Haven, where the vehicles are predominantly self-drive, it’s not uncommon to find the streets gridlocked at certain times of day, especially if some of the tracks along the Conveyor Line are down for maintenance.
Here, however, such a thing isn’t a problem. Not only is the population less dense per square mile, but the computer-driven cars are, naturally, less prone to making mistakes or suffering from the road-rage that does, on occasion, make even the most calm-headed individual into a crazed maniac.
As such, it doesn’t take long to work our way across the quickest route towards the Outer Spiral, where we step out at Sophie’s building, letting the car park for itself, and quickly move up towards her apartment.
By the time we reach her door, she’s managed to regain some of her composure, although is clearly still in a slight state of shock. I can only assume that her current mental fragility has compounded the effects of hearing that gunfire, seeing as the event itself wasn’t enough to warrant such a reaction.
At least, not to me. Perhaps she’s different, and a little more delicate.
Setting her hand to the scanner, the door unlocks and we pass down the corridor and into the main living area. The last time I came here was under similar circumstances, after the Nameless interrupted the previous ceremony. I get a slight sense of déjà vu as I enter, setting Sophie down onto the sofa and fetching some water from the dispenser in the kitchen.
Now, I know my way around easily enough. This apartment, while smaller, is very similar in structure to my current one, and the one that Adryan and I met up in in the Court House. The architects and designers here clearly don’t have much imagination.
As I pass Sophie a flask of water, she takes a sip and shakes her head.
“No, no,” she says, standing and moving towards the kitchen herself.
She returns a few moments later with something stronger, pouring us both a glass of wine instead. She sucks down a gulp in a fashion that suggests she’s been indulging in the stuff a little more frequently these days. Given her current troubles, that’s not entirely surprising.
Then, after polishing off most of the glass in record time, she looks at me with a slightly odd expression on her face. It’s no longer stark and intense, but more curious. She reaches out and slides her fingers down one side of my face, staring deeply into my eyes in a manner that makes me uncomfortable.
As I prepare to creep into her thoughts to find out what she’s thinking, the sound of footsteps breaks our staring contest and we both raise our eyes to see an untidily dressed figure appearing from a corridor.
Dressed in his assigned colours of dark grey and black, Rycard’s countenance suits the depressing shade. His cheeks and chin carry their own shadow, several days of facial growth sprouting from his skin, and his hair is ruffled and unkempt.
Across his head, a white bandage wraps, covering up his right eye. The rest of the right side of his face continues to show signs of the explosion in the market, the many cuts and lacerations he suffered yet to fully heal. Most likely, they never will, his handsome face now permanently scarred and altered.
His good eye looks upon us, heavily hooded and framed by black shadow. And across his closed lips, a constant grimace curls, an expression of muted anger and defeat replacing the usual smile and buoyancy that I came to associate with him.
Seeing his wife, he quickens his step and moves forward, flashing his left eye on me as he comes.
“What happened?” he asks, the frown deepening.
Sophie stands and gets scooped up into his arms. Now the tears begin to flow, tears that I suspect are based on much more than the shocking events we’ve just witnessed.
“It’s OK,” whispers Rycard, stroking his wife’s head. “What happened?” he asks again, this time diverting his eyes down to me.
“You didn’t see?” I ask. “You weren’t watching?”
He shakes his head. Clearly, he had no interest whatsoever in seeing the ceremony, even by hologram.
I take a breath, still confused by what I saw.
“Commander Fenby…he was shot.”
Rycard’s left eye widens.
“Shot?! Is he dead?”
I nod.
Of course, I can’t be entirely sure, not with the wondrous medical capabilities of the people around here. But, that said, a bullet to the brain is traditionally a sure-fire means of killing a man.
“He’s dead,” I confirm. “Shot by a sniper.”
Rycard’s widening left eye stays like that for a moment, before the brief show of shock on his face fades, replaced by that grimace once more.
“The Nameless,” he says, staring right at me. “It was the Nameless…”
He continues to stare, forcing me to turn away. And then another word falls from his mouth, growled out as Sophie continues to sob.
“Good.”
94
It takes another few minutes, and another glass of wine, to calm Sophie down and set her back onto the sofa. She sits quietly, still looking at me from time to time in that curious way as Rycard sets about getting more details from me regarding the attack.
I quickly fill him in on what I saw, and watch as that grimace on his face continues to deepen.
His summation, once I’m done, makes his feelings very clear on the City Guard.
“Maybe he got what was coming to him,” he growls again. “Maybe the Nameless did us all a favour.”
His feeling of betrayal by those who gave his life meaning and purpose is profound. There
’s so much animosity towards them inside him, a simmering anger that boils under the surface, steaming from his eyes and mouth with his seemingly callous words.
A man who was once a loyal member of the City Guard has now been cast out into the cold, his place among the Enhanced now doubt. Without his Hawk-vision, he’s considered redundant, a spare part no longer required and set to be tossed onto the scrapheap.
And along with him, Sophie will be forced to go. If he has no place here, then neither does she, leaving only their son, Maddox, to be kept among the people of Inner Haven, raised to grow into a fully-fledged Hawk like his father before him. To perhaps join the City Guard when he’s ready, continue in his father’s stead as his parents get discarded to the realm beyond the wall.
Sophie and Rycard are both dominated by such emotions now; Rycard’s thoughts shaped by his anger and resentment, Sophie’s by her feelings of fear and worry for what will happen to her family.
It’s a terrible situation to be in, both of them so worried that their son will be taken. Unlike the Savants, these two are loving parents, and it’s clear that they’ll do absolutely everything in their power to keep their son by their side.
Yet, unless they get help, there may be nothing they can do. And looking at them now, I feel I have no choice.
I have to help them.
I have to keep to the promise I gave Sophie.
“What will you do now?” I ask tentatively.
Rycard and Sophie share a look. Her eyes are wet and soft. His left one is harsh and filled with fire.
“There’s nothing we can do,” sniffs Sophie. “They’re…they’re going to take our son.”
She begins sobbing again, covering her eyes with her hands and shaking violently. Once more, Rycard wraps her up, his eyes burning brighter as he looks upon his desolate wife. And as if on cue, from down the corridor, the sound of a crying baby drifts, and Sophie’s eyes shoot back up.
She leaps straight to her feet and stumbles off to tend to her son, leaving Rycard and me alone.