Shadow Heart (5 page)

“Then why haven’t you finished the job? You’ve had ample time, it seems.”

“As far as the Citadel and the High Council are concerned, you
are
dead, killed when your Halo crashed into the Mediterranean Sea. Those of your men who survived the crash were executed before the very eyes of the Citadel, and they all watched via satellite as a detachment from the fleet at Perth closed in on the
Golden Queen
and made certain she met a swift and violent end.”

Liz closed her eyes briefly, the weight of every death falling upon her shoulders. Those men had risked everything in loyalty to her. Now they were dead, while she still lived.

What a difference three days made.

“And the emperor?” she asked quietly.

“Aside from the men on this Halo, he alone knows the truth,” Gavin replied. “I was able to persuade him that keeping you alive could serve our interests better than seeing you dead. It took some careful convincing, I assure you. He did not take kindly to your conspiracy.”

I suspect not
, she thought wryly.
He has begun to see enemies all around him
. “So what is it you want of me?”

“I’m sure you are aware what the men say about the Wilderness east of the Corridor.”

Her eyes narrowed, “I am.” The Imperial Conglomerate’s presence in the Western Hemisphere had created an interesting side-effect. With the Great Army holed up within the cities, Silent Thunder was free to move through the Wilderness without fear of reprisal. Liz had tried to turn that to their advantage, believing two sides with a common foe should be able to reach some kind of agreement—even if only temporarily. But all her attempts to contact the rebels—much less negotiate a truce—had failed.

“‘Napoleon Alexander may control the cities,’ they say,” Gavin intoned. “‘But Shadow Heart rules the Wilderness.’”

“I know where this is headed, General. And it is foolishness. I sent countless sentries to find her, and none ever returned alive with word of her. Her people are like ghosts.”

“I once knew a man who said that to find a ghost, you must send another after it.”

Liz felt a pang of remorse. The words brought back the memory of the man who spoke them—the man who trained her, who she had never suspected as false. But once his true allegiances had been revealed, it forced her to question whether she truly knew McCall at all. It had taken time for her to decide that there was no reason for her to have felt betrayed. He had done what he thought was right, just as she had. In the end it had cost the old man his life.

“You have a wealth of soldiers at your disposal. Why me?”

Gavin smiled, “Oh, I think you know.”

“I don’t actually.”

“Put aside the fact that—as a Spectral-adept and a former high-ranking member of both great powers—you have knowledge that they can use. Put aside your brilliant powers of seduction and your virtually unsurpassed abilities as an intelligence officer, which make you keenly suited to this mission. Instead, think of something more base, more primitive—something that will get you access to Shadow Heart herself.”

“And what is that, General?”

“Shared loss,” Gavin replied callously. “Rumor is that the…event…which transformed Grace Sawyer from the dewy-eyed daughter of a notorious rebel into the Queen of the Wilderness we have today, was the death of a certain man. A man she loved dearly, and who supposedly—pure myth, I’m sure—took her heart with him into the grave. I happen to know that this man was none other than the Specter Captain, 301-14-A…a man you also knew, I believe.”

That pang of remorse twisted into a gut-wrenching throb. For the past year she had tucked thoughts of 301’s death away, not permitting herself time to mourn and give Sullivan another reason to suspect her loyalty. She tried to think of him as the enemy, as a combatant whose death served her interests. But she could not find it within her to be so cold, not about him. Whenever he came to mind she couldn’t see anything but her friend, the boy who had stuck with her through thick and thin.

Until she placed that knife at his throat, and betrayed him.

“You want me to use her grief to forge an alliance?”

Gavin chuckled, “No, my dear. Your ploy with Charles Justus was a good one, I’ll admit, but to make an ally of Silent Thunder could get a bit…messy. I want you to manipulate them into doing our bidding, into distracting Alexander while we make our way up from the south. Once we start taking cities, the Great Army will stir, but they might be reluctant to leave with Shadow Heart pounding on their walls.”

“So we use them as tools, rather than join them as friends,” Liz said wryly. “Then what happens to them?”

“A spear’s point, thrust into the rock, will always shatter,” Gavin said. “Once we have what is ours, we will dispose of the pieces that remain. Silent Thunder has no place in the order that is to come.” The general grinned. “But there may be a place for you, Miss Aurora, if you manage to succeed. Politicians have a way of forgetting our faults, when some great deed is accomplished. I have my assurances from the emperor that if you can deliver the rebellion into our hands you will be welcomed home with open arms.”

The Imperial Conglomerate is not my home,
she longed to say.
I have never had a home…perhaps I never will
.

“Do you accept these terms?” Gavin asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

The general grinned, “There’s always a choice. However, if your choice is to have a fighting chance at survival…then no. All the same, I need your answer.”

Liz hesitated. She wanted to bite back with some snide remark and tell Gavin exactly what he could do with his offer. She wanted to spit in Emperor Sullivan’s face and make him pay for betraying her. But in order to hold on to hope that she might one day reunite with her family, she could do neither.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Gavin nodded curtly. “Gather your bearings. You jump in two minutes.”

Liz’s heart pounded in her ears, “Jump?”

“We are now deep within the heart of the World System,” Gavin explained. “It seems we have been undetected so far, but that will not last. We must get back to the Atlantic. You will be dropped near a significant group we have located in the Wilderness. It is our hope that this group is Silent Thunder, though we are not certain. Derek Blaine’s Spectorium also roams this region, hunting them.”

“You save my life just to risk dropping me back into the hands of the World System?”

“I said I’d give you a fighting chance,” Gavin corrected. “Whether you survive…that’s on you.” He stood and barked his orders, “Private, secure the prisoner and her belongings.”

A young Imperial Guardsman emerged from the corner of her eye with a small backpack. She gazed upon it with hunger, knowing her Gladius must be within. The guardsman hesitated for a moment, looking her over with both suspicion and regret.
So respect and loyalty do remain in the ranks, even if it is reluctant
.

“It’s not a show, son,” Gavin said. “Get her up.”

The guardsman bent down and released her restraints, then gently lifted her to her feet. She wobbled there for a moment, and sharp pain exploded in her head. Whatever they had used to drug her was still impairing her movements, yet they wanted her to skydive into hostile territory? The Wilderness calls of predator and prey echoed in her ears and made her shudder. Down there, alone, there was no doubt which one she’d be. It was only a question of which predator found her first.

She wouldn’t go down that way.

Focusing her pain into adrenaline, she charged the lieutenant and drove him hard against the bulkhead. He dropped the backpack with a surprised grunt, and she lunged for it. Unfortunately she wasn’t as quick as usual, and a hand grabbed her hair at the base of her neck. Liz went limp, and what little fight she had been able to summon took flight. There could be no more resistance.

The strong hand turned her back around to face Gavin, who stood smiling as though nothing had happened. No doubt he had that extra guard in position, predicting she would try such a move. The lieutenant rose from the floor and again approached her with the backpack, shoving in on her—not so gently, this time—while the second guard continued to hold her with a firm grip.

Once the backpack was secured Gavin nodded, and the guard pushed her toward the hatch. Gavin pressed his hand to the side panel and the door slid open, letting in a rush of cool air. The high-altitude wind howled softly, but Liz was at least glad that the pilot had chosen to hover as opposed to dropping her while in motion.

“Gavin,” Liz said, hating the waver in her voice. “Whatever your opinions about me, I’m begging you to find another way into those cities. All those people…”

“That is no longer your concern,” Gavin replied. “Your only concern now is inserting yourself into Silent Thunder as if you were one of them. We will contact you when the time comes.”

The guard pushed her toward the door, and she put her hands out to prevent him from pitching her into the night.

“You’re right, it isn’t my concern. But it is yours. You should consider what the weight of all those lives will do to your soul.”

“The die is cast, my dear, and nothing you say can alter it. The strikes have already begun.” The general nodded once more to the guard.

One hard shove later she was flailing in utter darkness.

T
HE
H
IGH
C
OUNCIL CONVENED
at the Table of Nine, a name that rankled Emperor Sullivan every time he heard it. Originally there were only eight members of the High Council, but the Citadel had managed to write a clause into the Conglomerate’s constitution for one of its representatives to sit in on their meetings despite his repeated attempts to keep them out. His supposed allies on the Council had even encouraged their inclusion, along with undermining his efforts to maintain control over the growing rabble in his government.

It had been this way once before, before the fall of the Old World, when the threat of Persia loomed large before the eyes of the United States Senate. It was a golden age brought on by the discovery of Solithium, and no one wanted to hear talk of war. Their pockets lined with gold, the senators and their constituents had become pacifists of convenience. But the Persians did not play fair, and by the time the United States stopped arguing over what to do about them it was much too late.

He had vowed never to allow such a travesty to pass on his watch again.

That was the excuse he used to scowl at the Citadel member from across the table, where he sat conversing with the two men who seemed to be helping to chip away the High Council’s power: Councilor Christopher Holt and Councilor Luke Orion. Sullivan wasn’t sure he even knew the member’s name—aside from that it sounded German in origin. He turned his scowl from the unknown nuisance to Orion, formerly his own Chief of Staff. Once he had been able to rely on the man for anything; now he couldn’t say which way he would vote. Holt’s behavior over the past year was even more bothersome. He had an agenda, one that would have had him executed for treason if not for his friendship with Sullivan. In many ways that friendship made what Sullivan had to do much more difficult, but he summoned his anger with the reminder that Holt had betrayed him first. They were supposed to have been in this together, but the man had turned his back in favor of a misguided hunger for redemption.

My list of allies grows thin
, he mused.
I wonder if this is how it went for Alexander, once the fervor of the System’s founding wore off and people realized what they had gotten themselves into.
Sullivan had been close enough to observe the MWR’s transformation from noble hero to oppressive tyrant. It hadn’t happened overnight, but there had been warning signs all along the way.

Am I seeing those signs now? Is it time to turn back?

He steeled himself as the last of the High Council were seated around the Table.
No
.
There is no going back now. It’s win or die, and sacrifices must be made
.

“Good evening, Councilors,” he began. “As you no doubt have heard, Rio has fallen to the Imperial Guard. Some work remains to fortify the city against an attempt by the Great Army to retake it, but for all intents and purposes we now control Division Seventeen. We should be able to move against Lima and Division Sixteen before the week is out.”

“Reports show that the Great Army is not mustering to retake Rio,” Orion said. “Which could be advantageous…or perhaps very bad for us.”

“How so?” one of the others asked.

“Because Napoleon Alexander is a proud man,” Holt interjected. “He would not allow such a challenge to his power to go unanswered…unless he has other plans for us.”

“Explain, Councilor,” Sullivan said.

“It is no secret that when Alexander appeared, the emperor and I both believed his intent lay in restoration. He gave us the impression that his singular goal was to gather the survivors of the Persian Resurgence and help bring back order to our country. All he lacked were the tools. Inspired by his vision, Emperor Sullivan and I gave him those tools.”