The Second Rebel, page 43
This video—this whole setup—is just an elaborate game, I realize. We have to show the Icarii what they need to see—Aster rebels and scientists—and part of that is me, broken and trembling. I don’t fight the shiver of pain that runs over me. Don’t hide my expression of anguish. Let them see it all. I’ll play the game to perfection.
“Let’s not waste time: The information regarding how to create the Genekey virus has been sent to Mercury and Venus,” Sorrel says. “Destroy Vesta, and you will find yourself on the hostile end of the Genekey virus all over the galaxy.” He gestures toward me, proving what they can do. “Anywhere Asters live, you will be hunted.
“You say you are willing to negotiate. Well, we are too. But we will negotiate on our terms. Once more, we demand the cessation of aggression against all Asters, including medical testing; an end to the Vesta blockade; and the release of Lito sol Lucius back into our hands.” When Sorrel is finished, Hemlock ends the recording.
“Sent,” he says after a few seconds.
I close my eyes as the ache behind them becomes too much. That gray haze is too present in this place where I should see Castor’s lavender skin and the golden shimmer of his irises. Now those colors, like the magnetic pull I felt toward him, are lost in memory.
Soft chatter is exchanged in the oppressive silence, but I ignore it. The only thing I want to hear is whether we achieved our goal or not.
“Video received,” Hemlock says, and I open my eyes and sit up in the chair. With a flick of his wrist, he sends the recording to the holoprojector behind the camera. “Playing in three, two…”
The face in the video is not one I thought I’d see again. Tawny skin with the slightest hint of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes; no laugh lines around his mouth, as if he never smiles; and black hair swept back from his forehead with a signature streak of white. Anger swirls within me as I look at Souji’s face on the screen. I glare, as if he could possibly see me.
“We agree to a cessation of all hostilities against Asters, including the Vesta blockade, across our controlled territories effective immediately upon agreement,” Souji says, and I remember Hiro saying that, behind everything, Souji was the one pulling the strings. Now he’s not even hiding it. “We also agree to an unarmed meeting on a ship of your choice in gray space to discuss a treaty between Asters and Icarii.”
The tension in the room evaporates. Waves of relief curl off of the Aster Elders and Sorrel. Only Hemlock holds himself tightly, because the video isn’t over…
“However, the fate of Lito sol Lucius is outside of the purview of any Icarii-Aster compromise. Lito sol Lucius is an Icarii criminal and will be held and tried for his crimes in the Fall of Ceres, as well as all other actions committed before joining the Aster rebellion.”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Castor snaps.
Souji’s face is a blank mask. “We await your response as to whether these terms are acceptable.” The video ends abruptly.
“No!” I scream, as loud as I can, just as the room erupts into celebration.
“We’ve done it!” the Elder Cedar says, reaching for Anemone and Rue. “We have only to accept and reach peace with the Icarii.” Asters around the room embrace as if this is all over. To them, it is. But not for me.
“What about Lito!” I say as loudly as I can.
“Are we going to accept?” Castor asks, looking between Sorrel and Hemlock. He speaks quietly, yet his voice is louder than mine; my throat is too strained to be heard in such jubilation.
Hemlock drops his eyes to the ground, considering, but Sorrel doesn’t hesitate. “Turn on the camera. We have to respond,” he says. His tone is harder than I’ve ever heard it, demanding in a way that leaves no room for disobedience.
Yet Hemlock doesn’t do as commanded.
Sorrel seizes Hemlock’s thin wrist. “Do it, or I will.”
Hemlock grimaces with pain and tries to pull away, but Sorrel tightens his grip until there’s a sharp popping noise. Hemlock swallows a scream.
“Harbinger—” Castor steps toward them, a knot of chaos in the otherwise joyous gathering. Sorrel finally releases Hemlock, and then I see Ofiera moving through the crowd toward me, and I wonder why, out of everything that’s happening, she chooses to prioritize me—until the world around me blurs, and I feel myself falling—
It feels like minutes, but it happens in a heartbeat. I hit the ground, and my entire body throbs, my bones and muscles not knowing how to work together. There’s blood on my tongue, dribbling down my lips—like the salty water that choked me in my fever dreams—and I spit it out.
“No,” I say again, but no one listens, no one pays attention except for Ofiera, who braces me, pulls me off the stone and into something resembling a sitting position. “No,” I beg as Sorrel snatches the compad from Hemlock and Hemlock pulls his broken wrist to his chest.
“We will accept!” Sorrel’s words echo in the cavern-like room, the stone bouncing it back so he sounds like a god.
The room goes silent and still.
“We will accept,” Sorrel repeats, quieter this time. “What do you say?” But unlike when the Elders ask a question, his is a challenge. Hemlock’s wrist makes it clear what will happen if anyone disagrees. But they don’t see that—they see only the Harbinger, a hero who has saved them.
“Accept,” says Anemone.
“Accept,” say Cedar and Rue.
“Don’t let him.” I turn to Ofiera, to Castor looming above me. “Don’t let him—”
Castor does his best to ignore me, though his eyes are haunted. Castor’s first loyalty must be to his people, Ofiera said, and there’s nothing I can do to convince him otherwise.
“Please,” I beg Ofiera, the last remaining person Sorrel listens to. “You owe Lito, you said it yourself—” I spot the smallest sliver of doubt in her eyes, and I seize it with all I can, raise my shaking hand to tangle in her clothes. “Don’t let them kill him—”
Ofiera looks away. I see the exact moment I lose her, when her eyes meet Sorrel’s. She’s choosing him. Sorrel. Her husband. His rebellion. The Aster people. And killing Lito at the same time.
She nods at Sorrel in encouragement.
Hemlock doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t have to; no one looks to him for his input, least of all Sorrel. But I’m surprised when Sorrel looks directly at me. When he offers me a hand. I shock myself even more by taking it, by allowing him and Ofiera to help me back to my feet.
For a moment, the rest of the world fades away, and it is just me and Sorrel.
“You asked me not to harm thousands of Icarii, to choose one life over many, so I did.” He speaks quietly, barely above a whisper, but I hear him as if he were shouting. “I’m doing that again now.”
One life for thousands, a part of me whispers. Isn’t that for the best? And though I know Lito would choose that himself, the pain inside me grows larger and larger.
Lito is the last person I have left…
Sorrel turns toward the camera. With a tap on the compad in his hands, the camera begins recording. The video catches us as we are, unprepared, unposed—Ofiera holding me steady, my face twisted in pain and rage, Castor wide-eyed and confused, Sorrel certain of a path only he can see.
“We are the Asters, and we speak with one voice.” Sorrel is unwavering as he says firmly, “We accept your proposal. Details for further negotiation to follow.”
The camera clicks off. The video sends. Silence follows.
It is done. The Asters are safe. And Lito is going to die.
The world around me swirls, and for a moment, I fear I’m falling again—but no, my legs have taken me two steps forward, and I reach out for Sorrel, my nails curling into the palms of my hands, and I push with everything left within me, willing to crumble into dust, if only it helps release the pain—
My fist crashes into Sorrel’s face. He sways, hand coming up to his nose. I wasn’t aware I was going to hit him until I already had, and now I want nothing less than to tear him apart.
I grab a fistful of his jacket. Both of his hands reach for my shoulders to slow me, but I stumble into him as my legs give out beneath me, and the two of us lurch toward the ground. He hits the stone with a thud, and I land on top of him. He looks up at me, eyes wide with a question I can’t answer.
I hit him again. Ignoring the ache in my bones, heeding only the burning anger in my chest, I strike him again. And again. He could lift his hands to his face, could reach out and stop me—I am so much weaker than he is—but he lies there and lets me hit him. No one interrupts as my punches weaken into nothing more than taps, as I exhaust myself. I hit him until his face is wet and swollen, until I collapse against him, trembling.
“I hate you,” I find myself whispering. The tears burn on my cheeks. “I hate you…”
“I know,” Sorrel says, perfectly still beneath me. “I deserve all this and more.” Then he raises his arms and wraps them around me. Embraces me, as if I didn’t just do my best to kill him. I am too weak to break away, too weak to do anything other than drift in his embrace, and so I lie there, not sure who I hate more: him, or myself.
“I know you understand me, Lucinia,” I hear him whisper in my ear as the blackness claims me, “because you know what it means to sacrifice.”
CHAPTER 40 HIRO
Father: I’m sending you everything we’ve discovered about the Synthetic agent. From its body to the setup of its brain, the information is so much more than I could ever have imagined.
Message from Commander Shinya val Akira to Souji val Akira
Something jerks me out of my nightmare-tainted sleep. “Lito?” Again, his is the name that comes to me upon waking. I don’t know why. It’s almost like I can feel him just out of reach, but only when I’m sleeping.
Mara crouches over me, dark hair falling into her face. The lights burn above her like a halo. “It’s time,” she says.
“Time?” I look toward the livecam screen to see what has changed, but like always, it’s a blank view of space.
“Time to go, Hiro. Get up.”
I push myself up, and my head spins. “How long has it been?” I’m starving. I’m exhausted. I haven’t had something to drink in hours… It’s almost like Shinya has forgotten about me. Only I’m not in a cage or chained up, and I feel like I would be if the Icarii were really going to torture me by the handbook.
“Mmm.” Mara makes a soft noise as she thinks. “Twenty-eight hours since you were captured.”
“Damn…”
I know she’s not here, but I feel like I could reach out and touch her. Before I know what I’m doing, my hand moves to her face, my fingers trembling as they pass through her cheek. Still, I cup her face as if I could feel her, could embrace her.
“I wish you were with me,” I whisper, more to myself than her.
“Do you know how special you are?” she asks, catching me off guard. “Someone who grows beyond what they were taught as a child. Who gives of themself for others. And not just once, but again and again.” Her eyes shimmer, bubbling up with tears. “Who sacrifices everything they have and everything they are for peace.”
I feel only guilt at her words; so much of this has been forced on me, and I resent it. “You think I’m something I’m not,” I whisper. “All I know how to do is fight and lash out… even at those around me.”
“Then don’t push people away. You deserve good things.” One tear falls, a shooting star down her cheek. “You’re one in a billion, Hiro val Akira.”
My eyes burn before I can even begin to puzzle out why she’d say something like that. “Stop it, I’m a sympathetic crier.”
Between one blink and the next, Mara’s form changes. Shifts. Mutates. One second the young girl who is barely distinguishable from human stands before me; the next she is clearly other.
Her head is cracked open like an egg, her silver prosthetic dangling by a cable. Remaining wires spark in the dark of the room. Her right eye socket is empty, a black pit, while her left eye glows with a ring of bright blue, blinking, blinking, blinking too quickly, like an alarm or a cry for help. Blood covers the right side of her face, down into her dark clothes. Her hair is matted with it.
“Mara?” I’m on my feet in a heartbeat. Reaching for her out of instinct, but of course my hands pass through her. “Mara! What have they done to you?”
It’s because of me. Shinya found out she was the Synthetic from Autarkeia, and now they’re experimenting on her. Because of me.
Then the blood is gone, the eye back in its socket, and Mara is whole and healthy again, like she can erase what’s been done to her. Cover it up with something pretty and soothing. She gives me a pitying look—me, as if I’m the one she should be sorry for, when she’s the one being torn apart. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s getting hard to…” She doesn’t finish.
Of course it’s not easy; they’ve started pulling her brain apart, and she’s somehow… not dead. Not yet.
“When you get out of this room, go down to the brig and release Dire and the others,” Mara says.
“ ‘When’?” I repeat.
Mara ignores me. “Take them to the escape pods and get off the Leander.”
“Mara, tell me what’s going on.” It’s hard to know what to do with my hands when I can’t touch her. I thread them into my hair. “What’s happening?”
“Just do as I’ve told you. It’s important, Hiro. Promise me.”
“Okay,” I say, because I can’t say anything else. “I’ll get Dire and the others off the Leander.”
She settles, releasing a long sigh. “Thank you. Just be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“This is goodbye, Hiro.”
“Ready for what, Mara?” I reach for her, as if I could possibly keep her with me, but she is gone before I can even raise my hand. “Mara!”
My breath shudders as it leaves my chest. Alone again.
It’s time. Just be ready.
I don’t know what’s happening with her or anyone outside this cell, but I’ll be ready for whatever it is she knows is coming.
* * *
I DON’T DRIFT off again, though my body begs for me to. Instead I sit close to the door with my legs tucked beneath me.
In what I estimate to be three hours, someone arrives.
Nadyn val Lancer storms into the room, navy hair mussed. She looks from the obviously edited livecam screen to me where I crouch empty-handed. “Been bored?” she asks, pressing a hand to her hip.
“Good to see you too.”
She doesn’t spend any time on pleasantries. “Where is it?” she asks. Doesn’t demand, because she’s not Noa, though I can hear the current of frustration in her tone nonetheless.
But she’s alone, and this is the first time since I arrived that I’ve not had an entire team on my ass.
“Where’s your partner?” I ask.
Her face doesn’t give anything away. Are they on a different assignment somewhere else? Or is Nadyn saving me the trouble of dealing with Noa when we’ve always butted heads and it could cloud their judgment?
“Don’t make this more trouble than it’s worth, Hiro.” Nadyn’s voice is soft and compelling, but I don’t fall for it. She’s a Dagger, but not like I am. I am the shadow; she is the face. Whereas I use subterfuge, she manipulates. She might seem like a sweet sort, a sister or a caring friend, especially compared to Noa—but when it comes down to it, those two are meant for each other in every twisted way.
“We’ve torn the Dominique apart, checked all the crew, including you, and found nothing.” Nadyn sighs as if this is the biggest disappointment of her life. “We thought we’d never find it, but then the Synthetic admitted you knew where the override chip was.”
I know who she’s talking about when she says the Synthetic; Mara’s battered body flashes in the blackness when I close my eyes. And I know when she says admitted, she means gave up after torture. But what fucking override chip?
“We don’t want to hurt anyone,” Nadyn continues, as if she hasn’t already been tearing Mara’s brain open, and the way she wraps her arms around herself and drops her face makes her look like she might be ill at the thought. “Make it easy and tell me where it is, Hiro. If you comply, I’ll arrange to have a full meal sent to you.”
It’s time. Just be ready.
Realization hits me at once. Whatever chip Mara sent them after isn’t actually important, or maybe there isn’t even a chip at all; if it were important, Mara would have told me about it. No, Mara just wanted someone to come to my room.
Be ready.
“Sure, I’ll tell you where it is.” I saunter toward her, arms casually pulled behind my head.
Nadyn can smell a trap from a kilometer away, which is why her hand flinches toward the hilt of her mercurial blade. Clever girl.
“You want the override chip?” I ask, and she does her best to look innocent and encouraging as she nods.
Help me help you, her face says.
“It’s up your ass and to the left,” I say with a wink.
Her face scrunches, and the hand near her blade forms into a fist. “I’m going to beat you so hard you’ll need a whole new body—” she starts, and that’s when I strike—right when she thinks I’m nothing but an annoyance—pulling the fat shard of teacup glass I secreted away from the folds of my jacket’s hood and throwing it at her face.
She ducks to the side but doesn’t retreat, and in the second I bought myself, I cross the space between us, grab her hand as she reaches for her blade, and squeeze. My prosthetic does all the work, exerting a pressure that my flesh hand never could, and Nadyn releases an animal scream as her bones crack and grind into dust.
The door opens, reinforcements coming. Fuck. Seizing that small distraction, Nadyn jerks her head forward, slams her forehead against my mouth. My lip bursts. Blood hits my tongue. I release her, my head spinning.
She whimpers, pulls her shattered purple hand to her chest, and stumbles back two steps, but I focus through everything—my hunger and aches and sorrows—and snatch the hilt of her blade from her belt. She reaches after it with her good hand, and I shove my body into her midsection, hauling her up over my shoulder.
