Feral Empires: Fanning Flames

by Stephen L. Hadley

  “That’s good. Now, are you ready to leave?”

  “We can’t,” Jenn said, almost absentmindedly. The reality of what she had said must have struck her a moment later and she met Liam’s eye, grimacing apologetically. “I’m sorry, Liam. I know you want to go look for Scott. But the Mayor needs our help. This is more important.”

  “More important?” Liam couldn’t believe his ears. “What are you talking about? How could it be more important than Scott? He’s the one who got us here!”

  “I know,” Jenn said quickly. “And I wish I could explain properly. It’s complicated. But Tobias is working on weapons that might actually be able to defeat the Occs. Not repel them, not match them—defeat them! Can you even imagine?”

  “No.”

  “I know Scott is important to you,” Jenn said, her tone softening. “But this is bigger than any one person. Even us.”

  Liam did not answer her right away. Instead, he gazed silently around the barracks as he contemplated his words. Julie would not look at him and occupied herself with her children. At her side, Nora did likewise, obviously pretending not to hear the burgeoning argument. Only Kathryn looked at him or Jenn, her bright, uncomprehending face swiveling between the two of them.

  There was a lighted, manic energy to Jenn’s eyes. In contrast to her typical, reserved gaze, it was almost as if a fire blazed behind the dark ring of her irises, pouring forth heat and light in the form of frenetic enthusiasm.

  The change was not a welcome one. In fact, it almost felt to Liam as if a stranger stood before him.

  “No,” he said. “It isn’t.”

  ***

  If the Colonel was surprised to see Liam again so soon, she didn’t make it obvious. Instead, she rose from her desk, nodding Sergeant Woods away, and staring intently at Liam.

  “Has it been an hour already?” she asked.

  Liam shrugged. “Jenn is back,” he said. “I think something happened. I don’t know what the Mayor said to her, but she won’t try and find Scott.”

  “Ah. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “No, you’re not,” Liam said. “But it doesn’t matter. Earlier, you said there might be a way to help you and Scott at the same time.”

  Natasha grinned, eyes coming to life in an instant. “I did at that,” she said. “Woods!”

  The office door opened a second later. Sergeant Woods head slipped inside, mirrored two feet below by a fiendishly beaming Kathryn. Grumbling, the man tried and failed to drag her back by the collar.

  “Yes, Colonel?” he asked, distracted.

  “We’re hitting the depot tonight. Make certain your team is ready.”

  And just like that, Sergeant Woods forgot all about Kathryn. He chuckled and nodded curtly, sparing only the slightest glance in Liam’s direction.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  A half-hour found the Colonel’s office occupied by a dozen soldiers who could only be described as professionals. They did not seem affected by the density of the packed room. Instead, they crowded around the desk, examining maps of the city that had been laid out upon it and weighed down with loose ammunition.

  Liam stood at the Colonel’s side, mostly because that was the only spot the soldiers did not intrude. With one hand, he braced himself against the desk. With the other, he clutched Kathryn’s wrist to keep her from wandering.

  With each passing minute, he forgot about Jenn’s refusal to help him more and more. Let her waste her time; he would accomplish the real work.

  “We’ll be keeping the plan mostly the same,” the Colonel explained, rapping her knuckles on a particular spot near the center of the largest maps. “They’ve changed a few of the guard patrol routes in the last week, so our exfil will move south, instead of east. Other than that, you know the drill. Liam and Kathryn will help breach the depot. Woods, I want you and Tyson to make sure they’re prepped on clearing and cornering.”

  “Permission to speak, ma’am?” interrupted one of the men, presumably Tyson. At Natasha’s nod, he continued. “No offense, but why are we bringing some rookies?”

  “Because,” the Colonel said patiently, “They’re not just some recruits. Liam is enhanced. He can soak up a half-dozen rounds and shrug it off in seconds.”

  This revelation elicited a sudden murmur of conversation. Turning his way, the Colonel grinned and added hastily, “Not that we’re planning on it, of course.”

  “And the girl?” Tyson asked.

  “She’s enhanced too,” the Colonel said. “Kathryn is…”

  She looked at Liam and cocked her head. Though he’d given her a brief description of both their respective enhancements, she was obviously at a loss for how to describe Kathryn’s. No doubt she had no desire to mention blood-drinking unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Liam sighed under his breath, just a little.

  “She’s fast and strong,” he said.

  “Fast and strong!” Kathryn agreed, right on cue.

  From the obvious skepticism on his face, Tyson clearly had his doubts—as did many of the soldiers. None voiced their concerns, however, and the meeting continued. Despite the importance of it and his personal interest in the outcome, Liam was forced several times to keep his mind from wandering back to thoughts of Jenn.

  It felt wrong, somehow, to be planning a possible confrontation without her beside him.

  “Remember,” Natasha said, as the meeting began to wind down. “The point of this operation is not to seize the depot or kill the Mayor’s men. If you can get in and out without being seen, do so. But the most important thing is ensuring this mission succeeds. If we get everything, we can arm half the city by the time the Occs get here. I don’t know about you, but I’ll feel a lot better with three thousand New Lewvilleites fighting alongside me than a couple hundred snot-nosed mercs.”

  A rumble of agreement answered her and Liam found himself nodding along with it. Though he couldn’t pretend to understand the entirety of what Natasha had explained to him prior to the meeting, the gist of it was simple enough. The Mayor had consolidated power over the last few years: stockpiling supplies, confiscating weapons and ammo, and conscripting young men and women into his private army. It had been done, nominally, in the name of protecting the city from the inevitable Occ invasion. But, as the recent developments had shown, the Mayor was far more interested in keeping weapons out of militia hands—and civilian ones—than he was in allowing the population to defend themselves.

  And, much as he hated to admit it, Liam relished the chance to strike at the Mayor himself. The man had created a rift between him and Jenn. He would gladly have gone on this mission if only to spite the man.

  Of course, the promise the Colonel made hadn’t hurt, either.

  It wasn’t as good a deal as he’d hoped, but he couldn’t afford to be picky under the circumstances. Once they repelled the Occ invasion, Natasha had promised to lend him a dozen men to go searching for Scott. While Jenn might not appreciate the lengths he was going to in order to earn the assistance, they would undoubtedly cut down on his search time.

  And, she would get over it.

  “Liam?”

  The voice broke through his thoughts and Liam realized suddenly just how lost in thought he’d been. The room was emptying, soldiers filing out until only Woods and the Colonel remained.

  “Sorry,” Liam said. “Did you say something?”

  Woods shook his head.

  “Colonel wants me to work on tactics with you,” he said. “Do you have a weapon?”

  “I did. They took it at the gate when we entered the city. Andrew said we could get it back.”

  “Andrew was right,” Woods said. He clapped Liam on the shoulder and steered him toward the door, dragging Kathryn along by extension. “Let’s go get your gun back.”

  “Gun back?” Kathryn echoed. She danced in front of Liam and the sergeant, still held by the wrist. “Kill Occs soon?”

 
Woods laughed and nodded.

  “That’s the plan, Kathryn,” he said. “That’s the plan.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Much to the surprise of Sergeant Woods and his adjutant, Liam managed to master the essentials he would need for the evening’s raid with several hours to spare. While Liam was certain the men glossed over a great deal of nuance in their rush to prepare him, the foundational techniques he’d picked up from Scott were, as even Tyson was forced to admit, mostly adequate.

  Kathryn, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of self-taught disobedience. Woods had attempted to practice with her, but gave up in frustration within minutes of starting. He confidently declared that Kathryn’s amateurish moves would see her killed by any competent soldier.

  She responded to the criticism by throwing her knife and embedding it in the wall, an inch from the sergeant’s head. Apologizing loudly over the sound of Kathryn’s laughter, Liam had promised to speak with her about respect and the need to demonstrate her knife-throwing abilities safely.

  And, to be fair, he did. Of course, he also included a few lines about how bad it would have been if she had not missed and warnings that if she did not behave herself, she would not be allowed any blood for a month.

  In the end, Liam was left with several hours in which to entertain himself. At Wood’s suggestion, he briefly considered returning to the barracks, but the thought of Jenn turned his stomach with worry. He wanted nothing more than to understand her irrational desire to aid the Mayor, but the idea of continued disagreement was too much even to imagine.

  Instead, he managed to convince the man to accompany him on a brief excursion into the city itself. Despite his involvement with its politics and defense, New Lewville remained mostly a mystery to Liam. But, as he stretched his legs and took in the occasional, muttered insights from Sergeant Woods, that unknown slowly revealed its secrets.

  According to Woods, the city was, to an almost disturbing degree, identical to those found in the Occupied Territories. The rich worked and lived in comfort, secure in well-defended residences, while the poor scratched out a living as farmers, craftsmen, or garbage-pickers. More than a third of the city’s residents were orphans and even among those with surviving parents, it was the rare family who did not have a member born with a club-foot or another such deformity. Even a century later, and many hundreds of miles from the burnt-out husks of the great pre-war cities, the effects of the bombs and fires could be felt and seen.

  It was not until they came to the first of the brothels, however, that Liam had to look away. The young girl leaning against the ramshackle building’s entrance was a year or two his junior and pretty enough, in a sickly sort of way. She smiled at him, shrugging down a strap of her patched dress. Even the sight of her bared breast was not enough to distract him from the weariness in her eyes, though.

  “Can we leave?” Liam asked quietly. He squeezed Kathryn’s hand tightly but, for once, the girl showed no interest in pulling away. In fact, she practically clung to him.

  “Yes,” Woods said softly. Then, as he led them down the street, he nodded toward a narrow, inconspicuous building sandwiched between two brothels. “You see that one?”

  Liam grunted affirmatively.

  “That’s a militia safehouse. There’s a false floor in the back. If something goes wrong tonight and you need to hide, come here. The madam is with us. She’ll give you shelter.”

  Taken aback, Liam gave the building a much more dedicated inspection. Though it was difficult for him to imagine finding his way here in the dark, he hoped that his discomfort with the street as a whole would help him. Not that he planned on needing to, of course. It would be much easier to simply succeed.

  “Good to know,” he said.

  The rest of the evening was spent on a rather tortuous exploration of the main roads surrounding the depot in question. They had to be careful not to make the object of their inspection obvious, though the number of people on the streets near the city’s center proved sufficient to conceal them. By the time night had begun to fall and they returned to the militia garrison, however, Liam felt reasonably confident that he would be able to orient and navigate on his own, provided he was not overly distracted.

  Tyson and the other men had begun to assemble just inside the headquarters building and Liam was immediately taken aback by the degree of preparation on display. Every inch of the men seemed to have been dedicated to the task at hand. Knives, climbing tools, and magazines of ammunition were secured at their waists and various other convenient spots. The men were further equipped with holstered pistols or shoulder-slung rifles—one even carried a large, two-handed hammer—and peered at Liam and Woods in eerie silence.

  Liam glanced at the sergeant, suddenly aware of how comparably underequipped he was. The rifle against his shoulder was refreshing and familiar, but otherwise, Liam felt as much kinship with the professional soldiers as he did the Occs.

  Fortunately, Woods did not seem disturbed by the contrast.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll help us if you stand out a little. Just grab a—Ritter, grab Liam a mask.

  Liam accepted the mask as it was handed to him and slid it awkwardly over his head. The coarse, black fabric clung to his face like a glove and it took him a moment to tug it into place. The mask covered his mouth and nose, leaving only his eyes and a small patch of the surrounding skin exposed.

  Kathryn’s fingers tightened around his and Liam turned to the face her. She trembled slightly and for a moment, he wondered if she was actually afraid.

  But no, the intensity of Kathryn’s eyes and the brilliance of her smile made it clear that she shook from anticipation, not dread.

  “Kill Occs?” she whispered, practically bouncing in place.

  “Maybe soon,” Liam said. He set a hand on her shoulder, stilling her. “Not tonight, though. Tonight, we need to be very, very quiet. Can you do that for me?”

  Kathryn’s smile slackened a degree, but did not disappear entirely. She nodded enthusiastically.

  “So, so quiet,” she agreed.

  And, oddly enough, she was.

  ***

  The sky was overcast by the time they set out from the garrison, traveling in groups of twos and threes to avoid the suspicion of any watchful eyes. As before, Liam and Kathryn traveled alongside Sergeant Woods, though from the way the man kept looking at them along the way, he would have preferred more traditional allies.

  Regardless, they managed to navigate through the city without incident, nodding to the occasional late-night passerby, but doing nothing else to bring the slightest attention to themselves. As they neared the depot, Woods jerked his head and the three of them stepped quickly into a dark, narrow alley between two large buildings of unclear purpose.

  The rest of the soldiers were already present. They knelt in the shadows, making last-minute adjustments to their gear or weapons. Several looked up as Liam, Kathryn, and Woods approached, though none dared speak a greeting.

  “Everyone ready?” Woods asked.

  Again, no one spoke. Nodding as if to himself, Woods shifted his rifle into position.

  “Then let’s get to work,” he said.

  The men poured from the alley like ants from a hill, dashing across the darkened street toward the depot. The building was a mostly featureless, two-story affair, no different in outward appearance from the dozens of others that lay along the same street. That illusion vanished a second later.

  Without a word, one of the soldier’s stepped forward, armed with the large, two-handed hammer. Approaching the sturdy, metal-on-wood door, he drew back and delivered a deafening blow to the handle. The door caved instantly, knocked fully from its hinges.

  Before he even had time to consider what he was doing, Liam charged. He’d known what was coming, of course, but that didn’t stop him from feeling overwhelmed as he vaulted the half-decimated door and hurtled down the narrow, unlit corridor. Somewhere, in the back
of his mind, he hoped desperately that Kathryn had remembered to follow after him.

  The corridor darkened quickly, turning to an inky blackness that forced him to slow. He advanced at a crawl, unable to see more than a few steps ahead of him and trusting the barrel of his rifle to keep him from walking headfirst into a wall. It worked, though perhaps not in the precise manner he expected.

  A door on the right-hand side of the hallway opened suddenly, close enough and hard enough to bruise Liam’s shoulder. He staggered, spinning and raising his rifle.

  The man who exited through the door was armed with both a side-arm and a simple lantern. He stared at Liam in confusion for a moment, frowning as he glanced from his face to the rifle and back.

  “Whoa,” the man said quickly. “Easy there, son. There’s no need for—”

  The man dropped his lantern and without thinking, Liam watched it fall. In that split-second of distraction, the man struck. Liam grunted as the man tackled him backward, slamming him against the opposite side of the hallway. There was a hand around the barrel of his rifle, forcing it up toward the ceiling. Then came the deafening retort of the man’s pistol as he shot Liam point-blank in the chest.

  Liam groaned, not in pain—the sudden, ringing ache in his ears hurt worse than the bullet wounds—but rather in disappointment. He’d been unfocused, and the man had taken advantage of it.

  He didn’t have much time to contemplate his failure. A spray of hot, arterial blood splattered across his face as Kathryn struck the man like a human missile. She flew past him, barely even touching her target apart from the gleaming blade she dragged across his throat. The blow upset her balance, however, and she landed hard on all fours, bare feet squeaking against the polished floors.

  She didn’t even wait to catch her breath. With a breathless cackle, Kathryn sprinted forward and angled into through the door the man had emerged from.

  Liam followed, prompted more by the instinct to look after Kathryn than the mission he’d volunteered for. He needn’t have worried about her, though.