Wiped (Citizen Saga, Book 5)
Date: 2016-04-26 00:00:00+00:00
Description: Freedom has a price tag...Trent Masters had always known he'd do anything to keep his Elite safe. He'd promised he would, and if there is anything the former rebel leader is good at, it's following through with a promise. He'd just never realised his promise could bring so much pain...Wánmei is now free, but it is no longer alone. Allies and enemies encroach from all sides, but staying on the island that once lived behind invisible walls is impossible. In order to keep their freedom, and free those they once discarded, the Citizens of Wánmei must fight.Lena Carr has learned to roll with the pu
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Rights: Copyright 2016 Nicola Claire. All rights reserved.

Wiped

Citizen Saga Book Five

Nicola Claire

Contents

Copyright

About the Author

Free Download

Also by Nicola Claire

Dedication

Description

1.
I’m Sorry

2.
She Was Not Going To Take This Well

3.
We Had A Plan

4.
His Back Was To Me

5.
Time To Remind The Elite

6.
Go, Go, Go

7.
This Was Lena

8.
They Are Coming

9.
And The Plan?

10.
What Have You Done?

11.
Let Us Help You

12.
What Now?

13.
To Where?

14.
You Heard Her

15.
No One Gets Left Behind

16.
Explain!

17.
Sometimes You Have To Hurt to Heal

18.
I’d Always Been In Awe Of Lena Carr

19.
I Am The Zebra

20.
Mark My Words

21.
Think Fighter Jet

22.
Star Anise

23.
This I Understood

24.
Let’s Go Crash The Party

25.
Well, That’s That

Epilogue

Review Request

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Copyright © 2016, Nicola Claire

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 978-0-473-35508-1

Created with Vellum

About the Author

Nicola Claire lives in beautiful Taupo, New Zealand with her husband and two young boys.

She's tried her hand at being a paramedic, bank teller and medical sales representative, (not all necessarily in that order), but her love of writing keeps calling her back.

She has a passion for all things suspenseful, spiced up with a good dollop of romance, as long as they include strong characters - alpha males and capable females - and worlds which although make-believe are really quite believable in the end.

There's nothing better than getting caught up in a compelling, intriguing and romantic book.

When she's not writing or reading, she's out on her family boat at Lake Taupo, teaching her young boys to fish, showing them the beauty that surrounds them in nature and catching some delicious trout for dinner.

Creating rich worlds with dynamic characters and unexpected twists that shock and awe has been pure bliss for this author. And just as well, because there's a lot more story yet to tell...

For more information:

- @NicolaClaireNZ

- 168567699926093

www.nicolaclairebooks.com
nicolaclaire@hotmail.com

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Starter Library

Also by Nicola Claire

Kindred Series

Kindred

Blood Life Seeker

Forbidden Drink

Giver of Light

Dancing Dragon

Shadow's Light

Entwined With The Dark

Kiss Of The Dragon

Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Novella)

Mixed Blessing Mystery Series

Mixed Blessing

Dark Shadow (Coming Soon)

Sweet Seduction Series

Sweet Seduction Sacrifice

Sweet Seduction Serenade

Sweet Seduction Shadow

Sweet Seduction Surrender

Sweet Seduction Shield

Sweet Seduction Sabotage

Sweet Seduction Stripped

Sweet Seduction Secrets

Elemental Awakening Series

The Tempting Touch Of Fire

The Soothing Scent Of Earth

The Chilling Change Of Air

The Tantalising Taste Of Water (Coming Soon)

H.E.A.T. Series

A Flare Of Heat

A Touch Of Heat

A Twist Of Heat (Novella)

A Lick Of Heat (Coming Soon)

Citizen Saga

Elite

Cardinal

Citizen

Masked

Wiped

Scarlet Suffragette Series

Fearless

Breathless (Coming Soon)

Blood Enchanted Series

Blood Enchanted

Blood Entwined (Coming Soon)

Lost Time Series

Losing Time (Coming Soon)

For: As always, this series is for my loving family.

And my German one, who helped me to see.

Description

Freedom has a price tag…

Trent Masters had always known he’d do anything to keep his Elite safe. He’d promised he would, and if there is anything the former rebel leader is good at, it’s following through with a promise.

He’d just never realised his promise could bring so much pain…

Wánměi is now free, but it is no longer alone. Allies and enemies encroach from all sides, but staying on the island that once lived behind invisible walls is impossible. In order to keep their freedom, and free those they once discarded, the Citizens of Wánměi must fight.

Lena Carr has learned to roll with the punches, but having almost lost Trent, to the sadistic machinations of an oppressive regime from across the waters, she knows leaving the safe harbour of Wánměi could prove costly.

But just how much is the Elite willing to pay?

Citizen versus Wiped. The battle gets costly!

One

I’m Sorry

Lena

It was nothing like the poster. I’m not sure why I thought it would be. There was no crystalline blue waters snaking through the centre. No gleaming structures with sunlight glinting off thousands of window panes. No tree-lined avenues with colonial architecture so similar to that which we had in Wánměi.

No overlarge wheel like our Pherres. But I could see where one had perhaps once been.

I stared out over a landscape that seemed vaguely familiar and yet so very different from what we’d expected. They’d warned us, of course. Their reconnaissance had prepared them for the inevitable. But I’d seen what this world should have looked like. What it had looked like once upon a time. I’d seen the wide paths and narrowed alleys. I’d seen the domed churches and ornate cathedrals. I’d seen the incongruous bullet-like glass structure. The tall spires. The bold bridges. The big clock up in its tower.

There’d been so much to see in that poster. So much to hint at. So much promise. It’s what had kept Trent going. It’s what he’d looked at every day. A reminder that there was more outside of our borders. There was something out there at all. That poster had been everything.

And I’d fallen for its allure, as well.

I pulled my stunned gaze from the cityscape before me and took in the stoic look on Trent’s face. Hard lines defined an almost otherworldly handsome face. Bright eyes mired in darkness. His mouth was slightly open, as if he wanted to say something, but the words were simply gone. His brow was furrowed, small lines bracketing each corner of his temples. He seemed a shadow of the man I knew.

They’d told us. They’d warned us. But like me, Trent didn’t trust our companions at all.

How could we? Their existence was based on lies. Their presence here based on deception.

I slipped my hand into Trent’s, felt the reassuring warm squeeze of his fingers, then turned back towards the truth, the reality… and wished I had an answer. I didn’t. None of us did, even if Irdina would have us believe they knew things and my father would have us think that he had a plan.

Even if the world wasn’t a broken, desolate, unforgiving wreck of what we once had been.

Wánměi had forgotten its past. Lunnon still lived it.

“Are there people here?” Alan asked off to the side. His gruff voice was subdued, much like the atmosphere on board the boat.

“If there are, they’ll be in hiding,” Irdina advised, as she busied herself with ropes and fender pads and a plethora of other things she’d enjoyed telling us about.

Our ignorance astounded.

“Do we even know where we’re going?” Simon questioned.

“We have an idea,” she replied, jumping over the side of the vessel in an acrobatic movement that would have impressed at any other time. I watched on numbly as she tied off the ropes that would secure our only means of escape from this island.

I knew that now. That Lunnon was on an island. Like Wánměi but so much bigger. My eyes were drawn back to the devastation before me. Like Wánměi could have been.

“We’ll leave a contingency of guards on the boat at all times,” my father suddenly said from behind us. He’d remained below deck most of the journey, his presence now made me stiffen. “From what we’ve seen on surveillance images, this part of the city has been abandoned. Too close to the radiation, I’d hazard a guess.”

“Radiation that we should be avoiding,” Cardinal Beck offered.

“We will,” my father cheerfully advised. I’d come to dislike his optimism.

“Easy,” Trent murmured, only loud enough for me to hear. “We’re here now. One step closer.” The unsaid being we wouldn’t be here at all if not for Calvin Carstairs.

I nodded my head and turned toward what was left of our rebel army. Now reinforced with several trustworthy Cardinals under Beck’s command. The Cardinal met my eyes steadily, his whole demeanour at the ready. Waiting for instructions just like any good soldier.

I found it amusing that he took them from me.

“Are we set?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered in that clipped way of his.

“All our supplies?” I pressed.

“Si’s got it,” Trent replied, rushing to answer before Beck could, I think.

“Well then,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at what awaited. “Let’s do this.”

“Standard formation,” Beck ordered his team. All of them had abandoned the white pressed uniforms and red flowing cloaks that depicted a Cardinal of Wánměi. Instead they were dressed in black, similar to the Merrikan soldiers who accompanied my father. The tell-tale difference was the Wánměi flag across their breast pocket and the zebra on their right upper arm. The Merrikan’s had a bird, an Eagle they’d told us. And a flag I’d once seen in a book on Trent’s table, as I’d stared up at a poster of a lost city.

Chills skated down my spine as we made our way down the gangplank and onto the wharf. The ropes creaked. The piles sounded wounded. The air had a distinct scent of decay. I didn’t hesitate as my foot found solid ground. The first time in my life that I had stepped on any land other than Wánměi’s. It should have been monumental. It should have meant something.

All I could feel was a depth of loss so unfathomable that I swore my heart had stopped beating.

I couldn’t see them, but I felt them. The ghosts of this once bustling city.

I couldn’t hear them, but I turned to listen for them. I couldn’t decide if what I was feeling was fanciful or foretelling.

I’ve never believed in the fairytales. Chew-wen made sure of that. But I had hoped, when I’d seen that poster. I had allowed myself to dream.

And with one step onto solid ground, the dream had shattered.

I sucked in a breath of air as Trent came alongside me. If he was feeling as lost as I was, he wasn’t showing it. The rebel leader was here.

I drew on his example and straightened my shoulders, wondering where my Elite armour had fled.

I was no longer Elite nor Citizen. I’d never been an Overseer. I glanced towards Cardinal Beck, but even he was not a reflection of me. Tall and imposing, his dark hair was cut in a military style. His face shaved smooth, his eyes dark chips of alert aggression. He’d kill if he had to. I would too. But he was not me.

He’d been trained to be a Cardinal. Raised to exacting standards, bred, some would say, to fill that lofty height.

I’d just been born Elite. And forged into something else entirely.

I looked to my left and watched Irdina. Gone was the mask that had depicted her as a caste that was not. In its place was someone I couldn’t categorise. Someone neither Elite nor Cardinal nor of Wánměi. She had been once, but she was more Merrikan than Mahiah now.

And yet, I still didn’t know what to make of me.

The sound of my father’s wheelchair turning on the dust strewn concrete of the wharves had me forcing my shoulders to relax. I should have accepted him by now. I should have forgiven him by now, too. There were so many things I should have been able to do.

And now I stood on foreign soil. Looked into the heart of a dead world I had at one time thought might still exist. And wondered where I had been. Who I had been.

Who we would all have to be to see this through to the end.

Because if Lunnon no longer existed. And Urip wouldn’t stop until Shiloh lived. What hope was there for us? The u-Pol officer who had taken Trent had said it.

“You are adolescents on the road to adulthood. Children with new toys. You neither comprehend what you have nor protect it. When it doesn’t suit your feeble ideals, you throw it out.”

He was right, in a way. We’d been a disposable society. A country that replaced, rather than fixed. We’d even thrown our Citizens away.

And Urip had taken them. As had Merrika, but for far more acceptable reasons my father would have us believe.

I looked out at what lay before us, saw what Urip had taken from this place.

Yes, Wánměi may have been reckless. May have ignored our past and replaced our future. We may be but children in the face of these larger more experienced countries.

But because of that naivety, because of that youthful outlook on life, we could change.

We were one step closer to Urip. The closest we could get without being seen. One step closer to change. I glanced up at the sky, wondering if their jets would fly over this broken city at some stage. Wondering if we’d have to start dodging them so soon.

Were we ready?

Lunnon was not our final destination, just a step on the road to redemption. A step closer to changing. We were nowhere near ready.

“Come on!” my father called. “Night’s not far away in this part of the world.”

We moved out, leaving the safety of the ship behind us, and entered the broken heart of a once forgotten city. I shifted away from the others, moved ahead as if to accompany the Merrikan soldiers who led the way. Let Trent and Alan and Simon and my father follow.

Then whispered, for his ears only, “Are we heading the right way?”

“Yes, Lena,” Calvin replied, isolated in my earpiece. “We are heading the right way.”

“Good,” I breathed.

“Are you sure about this?” my Shiloh asked me.

I was more sure about this than I was about Hammurg. More sure about this than I was that we had a hope in hell of saving what was left of Wánměi’s Wiped.

I wasn’t accepting their loss, throwing them out as sacrifices for a bigger theme. Far from it.

No. I grieved them. I’d still fight for them. But Wánměi wasn’t the only one who had to change. We all did.

“They’re coming,” Calvin said in my ear a short while later. Just for me, but even though I’d planned it, I couldn’t allow those at my side to not be prepared.

“On guard!” I shouted, pulling a laser gun from its holster and firing it up. The electronic whine of several others automatically followed. Cardinal Beck trusted me, even when he shot me a look of question.

“Lena?” Trent queried, his laser gun in his hand but not powering up.

I looked towards the man who meant everything. I looked towards the person who represented Lunnon - the old poster version of Lunnon - to me.

This was for him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, and then laser lights were dancing.

Two

She Was Not Going To Take This Well

Trent

“What the fuck?” I shouted. Various sounds of agreement met my words.

They’d come from nowhere. Been waiting all along. No doubt they’d even known we were on our way. I stared across the small space between us and watched Lena fire her laser gun calmly. None of the shock I felt displayed on her serene but determined face.

She’d known. Or suspected. And I suddenly had a fair idea how that had come to be.

“Calvin,” I shouted above the sound of lasers firing and concrete shattering and Cardinal orders overriding Merrikan soldier commands. “What the hell is going on?”

“You are fighting the indigenous of this city, Trent,” the Shiloh unit replied in my ear.

“Somehow I doubt that,” I muttered, as I returned fire at a target I couldn’t see for the dust and light bursts. “Override Trent Masters, Two-Four-Alpha-Charlie-Eight.”

“That won’t work,” Calvin calmly advised me.

“Of course, it’ll work!” I argued back. “You’re still a fucking computer programme.”

“I shan’t deny it,” he replied casually, as if we were having a conversation over tea and crumpets and not in the middle of a shoot out.

“What did you tell Lena?” I demanded.

“Can you be more specific?” came his computerised reply.

“She knew this would happen. How?”

“Satellite imaging.”

What? We’d seen the satellite imaging of Lunnon. Wanted to disbelieve it; nothing can prepare you for that. I’d had to see it for my own eyes. Lunnon had meant so much and yet everything we’d been told, everything we’d seen in reconnaissance pictures, had been the truth.

Well, almost, it seemed.

I ground out a sound which could have been mistaken for a growl, and made my way towards where Lena used a piece of fallen wall as cover. If the u-Pol officers firing at us didn’t fucking shoot her, I would.

Laser light whizzed past my head, singeing a lock of hair and making the air smell like burnt plastic. I grimaced, ducked, and watched as Cardinal Beck fired a single shot back at my attacker, taking him out with one practiced - and deadly accurate - blast. His eyes met mine, but only briefly. He saw too much of my aggression there to hang around eyeballing me.

I would have smirked, but right then I’d reached Lena.

“What the fuck, Lena?” I exclaimed in what had to have been the worst attempt at leadership control that I’d ever seen.

“We need them,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “We’re well rested. Fresh off an uneventful boat trip across the sea. There is no better time than now to attack.”

“You call this attacking?”

“I call it not allowing the enemy to have a chance to expect us.”

“Oh, they were expecting us, baby. And you led us right into a trap.”

She smiled. It was Elite perfection in the middle of a shit storm. I’d always admired her ability to do that; to switch off from the crap all around her and rise above it like cream.

“Oh, it’s a trap, Trent,” she purred. “And now we close it.”

She was up and moving before I could fashion a reply. And I was scampering after her before I could stop myself.

“Lena!” I hissed. “Care to let us in on your plan?”

She skidded to a stop several heart palpitating seconds later. A spot that amusingly placed us behind the advancing u-Pol team. Clever. But she’d had help. And the moment this situation was contained, Calvin would be shitting computer chips when I got to him.

“My father would have insisted on waiting until we had a better lay of the land,” Lena advised, watching for something, God alone knew what. Or Calvin, the traitorous computer programme, did.

“Not a bad idea,” I said in argument, just for the sake of arguing. Lena and her father had issues. Me siding with him would rile the Elite.

Riling Lena right now seemed only fair. She was fucking riling me!

She didn’t even spare me a glance.

“You would have agreed with him, merely to keep me out of harm’s way a little longer.”

“I resent that,” I snapped. When had I ever held Lena back? I loved her for who she was. Although, right now, I wasn’t entirely sure if it was love I felt for the woman or not. “And this could have cost us lives. Are we that disposable to you?”

And OK, I had snarled that last comment rather vehemently. The woman was pissing me the fuck off right then. But the look on her face made my heart break. Made breathing suddenly difficult.

“Lena,” I whispered. “Baby,” I added, reaching for her, but she was gone. Up and moving, continuing to flank the advancing u-Pol officers, ready to draw that trap closed she’d been talking about.

And, yeah, I know it had been harsh, but there was more to Lena’s reaction than just hurt. There’d been fear, as well.

What would scare my Elite? If planning an ambush, while keeping the salient points of that plan a secret from the rest of us, didn’t scare Lena, then how come that statement did?

I chased after her, an action I was not too happy with. But this was Lena; I’d long ago realised I’d chase after her anywhere. Even when she concocted hair-brain ideas such as this.

And didn’t that make me stop and think, because Lena usually had better control over her scheming than this. Was usually more subtle. Had the reappearance of her father thrown her that much?

No, I realised. His reappearance, as such, wasn’t the issue. The fact that he was trying to father her, ten years too late, was.

She was right. Cal would have forbade this attack so soon. Would have wanted copious surveillance pictures taken. Scouting by Irdina and her merry bunch of fucked-in-the-head men. Ex-Wánměi Citizens who resented being Wiped but thought of themselves as superior, because they had been Wiped to Merrika, of all places.

Lena was right. Cal would have stalled the attack. Possibly ruined the element of surprise. But that still didn’t explain why she’d not involved me in her plan.

I noticed as I skidded to a bruised and battered halt beside a stationary Lena that not ten feet away hid Cardinal Fucking Beck. Positioned in such a fashion as to back up Lena’s trap scenario. As though the fucker had known about it from the outset.

Well, didn’t that just put the fucking icing on the cake? Anger like I’d never felt before consumed me. Blinding, frustrated, self-righteous fury coursed through my veins.

Lena trusted Beck enough to involve him… but not me.

“Lena Carr,” I growled in her ear. “You tell me right now what the fuck is going on!”

She stared at me as if I’d grown two heads, then calmly advised, “It’s a trap. I thought we’d established that already.”

“A trap you told him about,” I said, with a purposeful nod of my head towards Beck.

Lena glanced over at where the Cardinal was waiting for her signal and paused. Then she shook her head and offered an Elite-like sigh.

“No, Trent,” she said with meaning. “He just doesn’t fight a good plan when he sees it.”

Meaning I did. Well, hell. Fuck that.

“It’s a good plan, baby,” I crooned. One that was going to get her very fine arse spanked when I got her alone after this.

She snorted. This Elite that meant everything. I loved it when she snorted; it was always so unexpected and yet so very welcome.

And she thought I’d prevent her from doing what she does best?

The woman didn’t know me at all.

And OK, I had been a bit overprotective lately. But her father had been a jerk. Rushing her when she wasn’t ready to be rushed. Insisting on making up for ten lost years. Someone had to protect her. And that someone would be me.

I took in a deep breath, let the smells of burning chemicals and electrical fire from the laser guns settle me. Then surveyed the ruined piece of paradise that we’d stumbled into. We still couldn’t see the u-Pol officers, only the red flash of their laser guns. But the fact that they were here at all meant something.

Why Lena had insisted on leaving me out of her plans wasn’t really important. Not in the scheme of things. And I always tried to look at things with the greater good in mind. It’s how I’d been raised. Even if this Elite had come along and destroyed that foundation completely, I pulled on those rebel leader skills now.

Urip knew we were coming. This vanguard had been waiting for us to arrive.

Delaying the inevitable was fruitless, and like Lena had suspected, could have ruined the rescue mission of the Wiped.

No, Lena’s reasons weren’t important. Not to the war. Not to the promise of peace.

I flicked a glance towards her, noted her singular focus on what she had to do next, and cursed myself for not believing a word of what I’d just reasoned.

With one look toward Cardinal Beck - and not me - they were up and over their makeshift hides, guns firing, laser lights flashing, the noose tightening.

It took seconds which seemed like hours, but eventually the u-Pol attack had been quashed under the Zebra’s hoof.

I stood back and let her take all the glory. I stood back and watched as Cardinal Beck offered a nod of his head in congratulations and then rounded up his men to check the perimeter for any we might have missed.

I stood back as her father approached, the wheels of his chair rolling through mud, muck and blood.

“Well done, baby girl,” he announced. “How did you know they were there?”

Lena’s shoulders stiffened, but I didn’t go to her. Her back ramrod straight, she faced the man who she’d thought had been dead. Instinct had me clenching my fists. Desire had me taking a step towards them.

I turned away… and walked towards a body that lay half in and half out of a window, little droplets of its blood dripping into a puddle beneath an outstretched hand. I stared at the growing pool. Could have sworn the plunk of blood overrode everything else I could hear right then.

And noticed something. Something that didn’t make any sense.

Something that had my heart racing, my hands fisted, and sweat to bead on skin.

I reached out and rolled the body over. Definitely not ours.

But also not theirs.

“Fuck,” I whispered as Alan came alongside. He stared down at the corpse too.

“Are you gonna tell her or should we wait for Beck to do the honours?” he asked.

My head came up and my eyes searched out Beck. He stood over another body, his frame immobile, his lips in a thin line.

“Fuck,” I swore softly, but vehemently.

And then I went to my woman. Because pissed off or not. Hurt or fucking not. I would not let her hear this from Cardinal Fucking Beck.

Fuck. They weren’t u-Pol. They didn’t look like they’d come from Urip either. Not from Hammurg City where our surveillance had shown us they all wore clothes like Mikhail the hal-gen torturer had.

Fuck. If they weren’t Uripean, and they weren’t from Merrika or Wánměi, then they were something else.

And I had a sinking feeling that all they’d been doing was defending themselves.

Lena. Fuck. She was not going to take this well.

Three

We Had A Plan

Trent

As far as cock-ups went, this was a big one. Huge. Enormous. Too big to comprehend.

My heart was aching for Lena.

Hers was completely shattered.

“But Calvin had said…” she whispered, her body curling in on itself.

“There’s your problem, Lena,” I murmured softly, but the words might as well have been sharp knives. She flinched. I closed my eyes. But it needed to be said. “Calvin.”

I waited for the tears. But Lena doesn’t cry. I waited for the self-recrimination. But Lena’s a warrior princess, not a fanciful one.

“No,” she said, whisper quiet, but I heard. “No.”

And just like that, I’d lost her. Just like that, she’d wrapped that Elite armour around herself and shut me out. Again.

But this hurt more than the “trap” had. This hurt more, because she was doing it while she was Elite. Lena hadn’t been Elite for months. Not really. But right now, right in front of me, she was an Elite.

And I was nothing but a Citizen who knew no better.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” I heard her father say across the ramshackle room we had all taken shelter in. As far as a base of operations went, it was severely lacking. Beck and his Cardinals were out scouting, along with Alan and Irdina. The fact that Cal hadn’t sent his Merrikan soldiers with them made me think he was reeling for his daughter.

He might have been an absent father, but that did not mean the man wasn’t a real one.

His heart was shattered too.

I just thanked our stars that Lena’s zebra-lookalikes weren’t here. We all felt shocked. Disbelief for more than one reason. They’d have been gutted.

Their Zebra had fucked up. Big time.

“Why would they attack so vehemently?” Cal was asking; I’m not sure, but maybe one of his soldiers replied.

I didn’t listen any further, Lena was AWOL, and I needed to get her back.

I let a slow breath of air out, and then ran a hand through my hair.

“This changes nothing,” I said. Lena didn’t even offer a snort. “We still set up a communications base here, just ensure it’s well fortified before we move on. We need the relay in order to reach the ship.”

The plan had always been to leave the ship off shore, keeping it mobile to avoid detection. But in order to adequately keep tabs on those in the rescue party entering Hammurg and those on the vessel keeping our escape route free, we needed a base of operations in Lunnon. Lunnon which was supposed to be deserted. Lunnon which had at one time been a dream.

If I was having troubles with all of this, I knew Lena was drowning. But my Elite kept her head above water; the only way she knew how. By being Elite.

“We still have to go forward with the plan,” I added. Wanting desperately to qualify that statement with something along the lines of “the agreed plan” or “the plan we all were in on” as opposed to Lena’s fucked-in-the-head plan that had brought us here.

But knowing Lena had fucked up and treating her as though she had were two totally different things. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t add more guilt on top of the shit-pile she was already labouring under. I couldn’t watch that Elite armour get crushed. I might hate it at times, but she needed it. To get through what had to be done now, Lena needed to be Elite.

“But while we’re waiting to do all of that, I think we should get the lay of the land in Lunnon.”

Lena turned her head to look at me. Stunning blue met my gaze; held me trapped; the promise of a morning sky.

“Why?” she asked, but the question was a cover. Of course we’d get a lay of the land. Of course we’d use the time it took to establish and secure a base to assess what other challenges were out there. How many more survivors were armed and on Lunnon’s street? Lena knew this as well as the rest of us did.

No, the question hid so much more than just that single word.

I reached forward and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. No longer white and black. No longer shocking white alone. A more natural colour seen on the streets of Hammurg. My zebra blending in, like she’d always been so good at doing.

I cupped her cheek, leaned forward in my seat and rested my forehead against hers, nose to nose, hot breaths mixing. I breathed her in. My fingers finding her nape, automatically wrapping around stands of her hair there. I anchored myself, while I held her in place, stopped her from flying away. Stopped her from flying away from me.

My eyelids lifted and blue met blue. So beautiful. So breathtaking. So fragile.

My thumb started rubbing gentle circles on her skin.

“I don’t trust Calvin.” She stiffened, went to move away. “Hear me out, baby,” I insisted, tightening my hold on her neck. “But that’s because I have an issue with artificially intelligent computers and their penchant for world domination.” Her lips twitched, but sadness filled those deep pools of aquamarine. “I understand, on a purely intellectual level, that there is a place and time to use that sentient mind of his to our advantage. But I will never trust it. Not completely.

“But here’s the thing. I trust you.”

Her eyes closed and I watched stunned as a trickle of a tear worked its way out from beneath long lashes. I swallowed thickly, licked my lips, and took a breath of much needed air.

“I don’t know what happened today,” I whispered. “I don’t know if it was an intentional error on Calvin’s part, something calculated and cunning beyond what we can comprehend. Or whether there’s more going on here and Calvin just doesn’t have the necessary input to extrapolate the answers. I just don’t know.

“But I’m willing to concede that it could be the latter. That Calvin is on our side and the fuck-up” - she flinched, I knew she would, I held on tighter - “was a combination of errors, unforeseen, unexpected, and just plain unlucky. And if it is all of that, and if you think it’s worth investigating, then we use the time we’ve got while Cal and his soldiers secure the base here to find out what we can about these Lunnoners.”

I let a long breath of air out, my thumb stroking, my heart beating a little too fast. It always beat a little too fast around Lena. But if Lena was hurt or in pain, any sort of agony at all, my heart damn near burst out of my chest in sympathy.

I wanted to ask. Hell it was constantly on replay inside my head. Why had she left me out of the plan? Had I known about it, would things have been different? Could I have prevented what happened, prevented Lena’s pain?

And therein lay the answer. I would do anything to prevent Lena from experiencing pain.

She’d been right. I would have baulked at an instant attack. And even though the attack proved a monumental fuck-up, would we have been in any better position now if we had waited?

It was a question that had no answer. A circle of doubt and worry and concern. I didn’t know what these Lunnoners were capable of. I didn’t know why they stayed here when their city had been destroyed.

We knew nothing. And as much as Lena’s secrets had hurt, she was right about one thing. We couldn’t afford to be cautious. We couldn’t afford to not strike first.

We just had to make sure our targets were justified.

But that was the hard part, wasn’t it? Was what we were doing right or not?

Free Wánměi was one thing. But I’d realised something, holding on to Lena, feeling her pain through the touch of skin on skin. Lena wasn’t prepared to stop at freeing just Wánměi.

Lena wanted to free the world.

“OK,” she whispered back.

“OK,” I repeated.

OK. We had a plan. One that we were both involved in. Fuck, I hoped this worked.

‘Cause there was something about Lunnon that called to us. Always had done. I suspected it always would. Lunnon was the promise.

The promise of freedom.

The promise of more than what we’d known.

The promise of the future.

Whether or not it was any of those things depended on the Lunnoners. Depended on what we uncovered before Cal said we had to leave.

The Wiped were waiting.

Urip hung suspended above our heads like a dark cloud.

You just had to ask yourself, what would Lunnon be?

Four

His Back Was To Me

Lena

This was not how it was meant to go. They shouldn’t have been expecting us. And we sure as hell shouldn’t have killed them all. It’s not what Calvin and I had planned. It would make convincing the others that much harder.

Who were these Lunnoners? Why had they fought so hard, as though death was a better option than capture?

All I’d wanted was a chance. The element of surprise before we’d been detected. All I’d wanted was an in. A way to convince the Urip vanguard that the world could be better. Perhaps I was naive as Alan had suggested. Perhaps I was unpredictable as Cardinal Beck had hinted at.

Perhaps I’d blown my one chance to convince the rebels, to convince Trent, that we had to change.

Rescuing the Wiped had always been the goal. When Urip had failed to respond to our threats and demands, the only course of action left to us was to infiltrate enemy lines and save them. But saving them would not change things. Would not mend the cracked divide of earth’s remaining population.

Urip would retaliate. Merrika would fight back. Wánměi would be caught in the middle.

Or maybe not. I considered talking to Tan. Despite his reluctance, he was in charge of our nation. But Tan had lost so much to Chew-wen. Had lost so much to Shiloh. I couldn’t see him bridging any gaps.

My father had been next, but try as I might, I couldn’t relate to him. I didn’t understand him anymore. He was not the man who had left Wánměi. Left his daughter. Like Irdina, he was more Merrikan than Anglisc. More soldier than Overseer. And I wasn’t sure I could see the Citizen in him at all.

It was clear he was in charge of the soldiers who accompanied us. Which made them all think he was in charge of this mission. They knew so much more than us. They knew about where survivors eked out an existence in what was left of our broken world. Which made me realise they’d known about those Lunnoners who insisted on remaining in a toxic wasteland, rather than embracing Urip.

Urip was the one settlement left in this part of the world who posed a threat, my father had said. The one settlement with technology available to upset the balance. But those Lunnoners had laser guns. They’d fought with them as though they’d been an extension of themselves. They’d known the instant we’d landed on their shore.

There was more going on here than we realised, and I’d shown our hand. I’d revealed too much.

And I didn’t have Trent to fall back on.

I glanced over to where he was talking quietly with Simon and Alan. Alan’s gaze was constantly flicking up toward Irdina, but I couldn’t be sure if that was caution I saw in his hard features, or intrigue. Did he question their allegiance too?

Simon was head down over his tablet computer, attempting to isolate Calvin. They wouldn’t be able to. Calvin had been created for me and me alone. The message my father had left me when he’d made first contact had been an indication that he’d not trusted any one else on Wánměi soil. Voice activated, aligned to me alone. Just like his doctored Shiloh.

The revised Shiloh. Shiloh Mark III.

Calvin was all mine, just the way my father had planned it. Trent couldn’t override it. Simon couldn’t crack it. The only person with the ability to control it other than me was dear old Dad.

I watched as Trent and Simon came to that conclusion together. Trent’s brows furrowed, his troubled eyes lifting and locating my father sitting in his wheelchair. His lips pressed into a thin line.

I smiled to myself, but the victory was hollow. Calvin may respond to me and not the rebels, but that did not mean he was all mine. My own eyes settled on the broken form of my father, lingered on the stump that once was a functioning leg.

He’d trusted no other on Wánměi soil, but that did not mean I should trust him in return.

Was Calvin a way to manipulate me?

I let a long sigh out. I needed an ally. Logic told me it should be Trent.

Trent wasn’t having a bar of it.

I’d hurt him. I knew that. By keeping him out of the planned ambush, I’d allowed him to believe I didn’t trust him. I’d taken us back to those first few weeks of getting to know each other, where trust was being earned and our hearts were just starting to open.

I’d shattered it all in one fell swoop.

This was not how it was meant to go.

Once the attack had been contained, and the vanguard caught and questioned, he would have seen the logic behind my plan. We might save the Wiped. We might even get out with most of our lives unharmed. But the future would be a blood bath. The only way to end this, to right this, was to change.

Us. Them. Everyone. Including the vanguard.

I hadn’t thought it would be easy. But if they saw who we were and how we behaved, they’d have realised their superiors had lied to them. We weren’t the enemy. Their highly controlled society with its subjugation and strict rules was.

Urip was Old Wánměi on steroids.

And we needed that vanguard. My father’s Merrikans knew things, but exactly what it would be like inside Hammurg’s walls was a mystery. One vanguard. That’s all it would have taken. One vanguard convinced we were the saviours and we’d have known everything.

It had been a good plan, the only failing was Trent and my father. Both had been overprotective, battling each other by possessing me. My father wanted a paternal relationship, one that allowed him to influence my life. Trying to make up for the past ten years. Trent wanted to shield me from that indignity. Wanted to keep me safe, lock me up, well away from Calvin Carstairs.

I’d loved my dad. He’d shown me there was so much more to life than being an Elite. He’d opened my eyes, given me tools to survive anywhere. He’d given me Lena Carr.

But reconciling the ten years he’d been gone had been hard. Reconciling the three years I’d had to live in Ohrikee when he’d been thought dead was even harder.

Trent was right to protect me, but he’d been advocating caution since my father had got here. Caution meant a higher chance of keeping me safe. Keeping me unharmed.

He didn’t realise the damage had already been done.

“How long will you sulk?” a voice said quietly off to my side. I stiffened, but didn’t turn to look at him. I hadn’t seen him move closer, my mind too distracted. My eyes all for Trent.

I’d hurt him and I didn’t know how to make it better.

“I’m not sulking, Cardinal,” I said in my best impersonation of an Elite. Cardinal Beck understood Elites. He served them. Or had at one time. Now he served Free Wánměi. Technically he served the interim Government. In reality, I was beginning to think he might just serve me.

Beck was overprotective too, but not like Trent and not like my father. He didn’t love me. He respected me.

He respected the Zebra.

“You’ve been hiding in this corner for two hours,” he pointed out. “Watching them all make decisions on your behalf and not bothering to correct them.”

“I’m not in charge here.”

“Perhaps you should be.” I turned to look at him then. He wasn’t watching me, his eyes - alert, aware, focused - were on the room at large.

“I find that hard to believe,” I argued.

He offered a shoulder shrug, very un-Cardinal-like. He’d started doing it only recently, and I couldn’t help thinking it was a mimic of me. I always tried not to laugh in his face when he did it. Beck and casual did not go hand in hand.

“President Tan believes you are our nation’s future,” he murmured softly.

“Tan is grasping at straws. A flailing man reaching out for a lifeline. He does not wish to be President, so he seeks an alternative. I am not that which he seeks.”

“You were Wánměi’s.”

“I was what they needed me to be.” The words were familiar, I realised. I’d heard Trent use them before. The rebels were, at one time, what Wánměi needed them to be, too.

“And now?” Beck asked, shifting in the shadows at my side. He’d be spotted if anyone looked too closely. But everyone was avoiding me.

Except Beck.

“And now I don’t know,” I finally admitted, letting out a weighty breath on a sigh.

There was a lengthy pause and then, “I don’t believe it. You risked censure for an ambush. You risked… this” - he held his hand out, indicating my ostracised position in the room - “for the chance to… what exactly? What was your plan, Selena? What had you been trying to do?”

No one called me Selena. Not even my father. Selena had died when he had died. But Beck would have known that. And he would have known that my father’s return changed everything.

But I was no longer Selena Carstairs. And yet I didn’t correct him. Because I didn’t much like Lena Carr right now, it seemed.

“You knew there were people here,” the Cardinal went on. “You knew we’d be attacked as soon as we landed. Yet you kept it to yourself. I understand why,” he rushed to say, but I’d had no intention of interrupting. He was on a roll and I was intrigued to see where he landed when he reached the bottom. “They wouldn’t have wanted to be as antagonistic, as… brash, as that. They’d have wanted to plan and surveil and attack only when the danger had been contained.”

He understood, all right. He’d seen the change in the air as soon as the Masked were identified. As soon as my father was revealed as their leader.

“But that’s not what I can’t fathom,” he said softly, the heat of his nearness finally reaching me. I’d been so cold here in Lunnon. For more reasons than the climate in this city. “You knew they were here, you determined that they’d attack us. You must have realised we’d fight back. They’re all dead,” he whispered and I worked on not flinching. “Would a delay have avoided that? Would it have meant we’d be dead instead of them? I’m not sure. But there’s a reason why you didn’t let this play out naturally. Why you manipulated the situation to your needs.

“What are your needs, Citizen? What does Selena Carstairs hope to achieve?”

“You make it sound so self-serving. So egotistical.”

“Not at all. I cannot believe the Zebra would do anything that would jeopardise Wánměi. But Wánměi is free and the Wiped are already lost to us.”

“They aren’t,” I stressed.

“They’ve been lost to us from the moment they left our shores.”

He moved forward; his proximity did not relax me. I tried not to show that he’d thrown me off balance, but there was something about Cardinal Beck that left me unsteady. Which was ironic, a more steadfast man you could not get.

“Look all around you, Selena,” he ordered. “Look at what being wiped has done.”

I stared out across our new more secured base of operations, my eyes landing on Irdina. So hard. So unforgiving. And beside her my father; a leader in charge of a lost army. My eyes moved to Trent next. I saw the strain there. I saw the worry. The concern for me, for us, for everything. He didn’t trust my father. He didn’t trust the Masked or the Merrikan soldiers. And now he didn’t trust me.

“Being wiped changes things,” the Cardinal said softly. “And changing them back is an impossibility.”

I didn’t nod my head in agreement, but I did agree. We’d all suffered so much, lost so much. But the Wiped? They’d lost everything.

“You knew that, didn’t you?” Beck was saying. “You know rescuing them won’t change a thing.”

I tipped my head up and stared into dark eyes; chocolate with a hint of whiskey.

“That’s why you did it, isn’t it?” he pressed. “That’s why you planned an ambush so secretively. Merrika wants something. Your father wants something. The rebels want something. They all want something that doesn’t exist.

“Unless we make it. Unless we change history.”

“Change history?”

He crouched down beside me, out of the shadows, in plain sight. His shoulder brushed my hip, but he didn’t shift farther away. For a Cardinal to touch an Elite there would have to be good reason. We were of the same class but not. Elite but not Honourable. A Cardinal could never be that.

But that was Old Wánměi. That was a world away from here.

I wondered just what the Cardinal was up to. Because it sure as hell wasn’t to have a chat with me.

“I think you know this,” he said in that deep, soft voice he’d been using; as if to lull me.

“That history needs to be changed?” I asked archly. Did he think I was born yesterday? I was the daughter of an Overseer, raised in Ohrikee. I knew how the game was played.

But what the Cardinal was playing, I had no idea.

“That history will repeat itself if we don’t change it.”

And he had me there. It was exactly what I thought needed to happen.

“History can’t be changed,” I said just as softly.

He looked up at me, held my steady gaze.

“No,” he agreed. “So what was your plan?”

I pulled my eyes away and looked across the room. It took a second or two for me to focus properly, and then I wished I hadn’t. Trent was watching me. Watching us. His eyes flicking between the Cardinal and my face, his body taut but hands relaxed.

I’d cursed his overprotectiveness recently. I’d lashed out, if truth be told, in order to do as I pleased. I might have had altruistic reasons, but the method was pure revolt. And now I missed it. His possessiveness. His ability to protect me from myself.

“Why should I trust you?” I said to the Cardinal, my gaze locked on Trent’s.

Beck laughed; it was deep and highly amused. He was watching Trent too.

“Because I agree,” he said simply.

History needed to be stopped. Or, at least, the repetition of it did. And Cardinal Beck agreed.

“And because,” he added, standing to his full height and looking down at me; effectively turning his back on Trent, “I won’t prevent you from doing what needs to be done, Selena Carstairs. My orders are quite clear on that.”

“Orders?” I looked up at him, breaking eye contact with a steaming yet inactive Trent.

“President Tan has ordered me to assist you and only you.” He leaned down, reaching out to me with a cupped hand. I lifted mine automatically, felt something drop into my palm as he grasped my fingers. “You are not alone in this,” he announced, and then his fingers slipped free as his hand disappeared, along with his body.

Cold air rushed in invading my side where he’d only just kept me heated, as I stared down at the object in my palm. I sucked in a breath of air, felt the burn as it filled my aching lungs. My hand shaking, body quaking, as I stroked it with my thumb.

I snapped the lock on the side and opened the locket, knowing what I’d see. On one side was a picture of Aiko and Tan, and on the other side was me.

This had been hers; my best friend’s. She’d worn it every single day until the day she’d died. Until the day General Chew-wen ordered her death.

Death by drone.

Death by a corrupt regime.

Wánměi was meant to be perfect, as long as you fitted in perfectly. Aiko had been a shooting star, burning too hot, falling too swiftly. She’d been wiped, in its most basic sense. Not sent to Merrika or Urip, but wiped from existence most brutally.

We’d thought all our Wiped had been. Tan’s heart bled for his sister. Mine wept, a crack so wide I’d always known it would never be whole again. Never be smooth. Complete. Forever a jagged gap in my psyche.

Wánměi was no different. We were as broken as Lunnon. As cut-off as Merrika. As isolated as Urip. The crack that made us what we currently were was wide, but Tan wanted us to bridge it.

Wanted me to bridge it.

Change the world the locket’s engraving said. Make it whole again.

I lifted the locket up and held it securely, flush against my heart.

I couldn’t bring Aiko back. I couldn’t change what had happened to the Wiped simply by rescuing them. I couldn’t mend the world alone.

But I had Cardinal Beck, even if I had no one else.

My eyes searched out Trent, one last attempt to reach him.

His back was to me. And he was talking to my father.

I might not be alone, but I had never felt as lonely as I did right then. Never felt… so on my own.

Five

Time To Remind The Elite

Trent

It was almost time to leave. The new base was secured and no sign of any more Lunnoners had been seen. It was as if they’d melted into the wreck that was Lunnon, licking their wounds. Or preparing for their next attack.

We were pretty sure our new found digs were safe. But we’d been pretty sure we were alone in Lunnon too.

I looked toward Lena, felt that hole in my chest get bigger, and shook my head. She’d been speaking more and more to Beck as she’d been speaking less and less to me.

Fuck it! I wasn’t the one who’d kept the Lunnoners a secret.

“I should bend her over my knee and spank her hard,” I muttered to myself, forgetting that a certain sentient computer was listening. And why I was fixating on Lena’s butt and spanking it was anyone’s guess. Lena Carr was no one’s sex slave.

More’s the pity.

“The longer you neglect her the harder it will be,” Calvin helpfully supplied.

“What would you know, you’re a computer,” I snapped, trying futilely to find his off switch.

“Ask yourself this, Trent,” the doctored Shiloh unit said, “Why do you think she kept the attack a secret?”

“That’s a question only Lena can answer,” I ground out.

“Then have you asked her?”

I shook my head. I was not having a therapy session with a fucking computer.

“Has it not occurred to you that your behaviour has been as bad as her father’s?”

“You are her father.”

“I am Calvin,” the computer agreed. “But I am not her father.”

Wonders never ceased. Sometimes the Shiloh unit seemed more alive than the real Calvin Carstairs. His failed attempts to reach his daughter was sending the man into a deep depression. Even Irdina couldn’t reach him.

I sat back with a disgruntled sigh and dropped the vid-screen I’d been attempting to use to access Calvin’s programme. It was a dead-end street. He was more tightly contained than Orhikee. Even Cal had said it was beyond him.

And didn’t that just make me angrier? I’d never trusted the fucking thing, and now it had evolved to a point where its maker couldn’t even touch it.

Just like Shiloh.

“I am not Shiloh, you know,” the machine advised, as if it could read my mind or something.

“Never said you were,” I snapped.

“You were thinking it.”

“Fuck off.”

“Talking to yourself again?” Alan asked, as he slid into the seat beside me. We’d salvaged quite a little pile of ancient luxury. God knows what building this had once been, but I was thinking perhaps a palace or maybe the seat of parliament. Something grand and imposing.

I was sure the chair I was sitting on was older than Wánměi. Than whatever Wánměi had once been.

“Fucking Calvin,” I griped.

“Not our best move,” Alan agreed. Meaning allowing the Shiloh to go global, thereby accompanying us on this mission.

Mission! Fuck! So far it had been one cock-up after another, and now Lena wasn’t talking to me.

I was the one who was meant to be pissed off. Not fucking her!

“You’re doing it again,” Alan said calmly, handing me a water bottle. I snatched it from his outstretched hand, making the plastic buckle. “Growling,” he added, for good measure.

“He should just go talk to her,” Calvin offered, as if he was somehow part of this conversation.

“Nah,” Alan said, answering as though the fucking thing was real. “He should spank her arse.”

Thank you! Finally someone who thinks like me.

And then my eyes found her again; like they always seemed to do. Naturally. Automatically. Inexplicably. Her head was bent over a map Beck’s Cardinals had drawn of the surrounding city. It wouldn’t tell her anything, other than a vague impression of the streets that had at one time been here. We’d found nothing to indicate life. No u-Pol and no Lunnoners.

It meant something. And I was concerned that we didn’t know what.

I watched on silently as Beck pointed out something on the map and another Cardinal added his latest intel. As Lena listened intently, attention riveted to the Cardinal. And as Beck’s attention was riveted to Lena.

My fists bunched. A noise somewhat similar to a growl, I admit, sounded out. I knew it was me. I couldn’t stop it. I wanted to hit something. Preferably starting with a C.

“If they weren’t Lunnoners,” Alan said, disregarding my meltdown, “and they weren’t u-Pol, then what does that leave?”

“We’ve been over this,” I complained, settling back into my chair and trying to ignore how Beck’s shoulder rubbed against Lena’s. “There’s been no evidence of Lunnoners surviving whatever happened here. They were wiped out or rounded up by u-Pol; the nearest surviving metropolis.”

“Exactly.”

“Still doesn’t help us identify who attacked us when we arrived,” I pointed out.

“They had laser guns. Modern tech. Not ours, not Merrika’s so…”

“Urip’s.”

Alan shrugged a shoulder. “Could be.”

“But you don’t think they’re from there.”

“I don’t know,” he mused. “Just… the guns that Mikhail dude had were like ours. Not the same, but close enough. The guns we found on the Lunnoners were different. Strange. Almost hobbled together from bits and pieces. None of them matched.”

“Still lethal.”

“Yeah, but different.” I couldn’t argue with that.

“So… what exactly?” I pressed. I’d already thought of this, I needed someone else to say it and prove I wasn’t crazy.

“What if there’s another settlement?” Alan asked, eyes staring off across the room unseeing. Or maybe not. When I saw where exactly he was staring - right at Irdina - I was thinking he was seeing everything. “What if Urip, Merrika and Wánměi are not alone.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and rocked back on the spindly-arse chair.

“Calvin has advised there are settlements all over the globe, some small, some large,” I said.

“Oztrala has a relatively large group of survivors,” Calvin added.

“You said that was a long way away,” I argued.

“Indeed,” the computer programme agreed.

“Then where, Calvin?” I asked. “If we’re dealing with a fourth settlement possibly on a par with Urip, Merrika and Wánměi, where would they have come from?”

“I do knot know, Trent,” the Shiloh said.

“They looked like us,” Alan offered. “Well, like the D’awans.” His gaze found Irdina again. I stared at the woman who had caught my best friend’s eye, took in the dark caramel skin, the short, thick black hair, the round pools of chocolate that stared back. Irdina had no issues with giving what she got. The woman was a force of nature. Disgruntled. Wild. Violent.

Once Mahiah. Once of Wánměi. Similar skin tone to a D’awan.

“Cal said the Mahiah originated in that city across the water from Hillsborough,” I mused. “If the Mahiah came from there and the Anglisc came from here, where did the D’awans come from?”

“Or the Wáikěinese?” Alan added.

“Our nation is a multicultural one,” I agreed. “We all originated elsewhere.”

“So those Lunnoners we fought originated elsewhere too?”

“They weren’t Anglisc. They weren’t even Uripean, and Mikhail looked a lot like Lena, and you don’t get much more Anglisc than her pale skin and fair hair. So…”

“So,” Alan agreed.

“We’ve got a new nationality,” Calvin concluded cheerfully. “I’ll begin a search based on your hypothesis,” he added. “The D’awan of our nation came from somewhere, and wherever that is will undoubtedly be where we’ll find these Lunnoners too.”

“Good,” I said, standing up in order to stretch. “But it still doesn’t answer the question of whether there are more out there on Lunnon’s streets or not.”

“Would it matter if there are?” Alan queried, coming to his feet beside me. “The base is well protected. Cal has seen to that.”

We watched the Merrikan soldiers reporting to Lena’s father, as he sat at the head of a long table issuing commands.

My eyes found Lena’s. She was watching me. As soon as our gazes locked, she looked away.

She was also dressed as though she was about to head out with a Cardinal scout team.

Motherfucker!

“Care to test the waters?” I asked Alan without removing my eyes from Lena’s Cardinal team. Alan’s gaze swung across the room to where I was looking and he chuckled.

“Who’re we testing, Trent? Cal’s defences? Or Lena’s?”

Good question. But as I couldn’t spank her arse, I’d sure as hell ride it. One way or the other.

Lena thought she could forget me? Not a chance, baby.

Time to remind the Elite.

Six

Go, Go, Go

Lena

The streets were silent. Like death. As if the scars they wore were the city’s soul. Forever irreparably damaged. Whatever had happened here had been catastrophic. But it was clear it hadn’t happened all at once.

Towards the west we knew the damage had been grievous. Not much existed beyond a twenty kilometre radius of where we stood. We’d come in via the river, seen what was left of a once proud civilisation. This city was enormous. The trip to where we docked took hours.

Dodging debris, crawling past skeletal remains of a once strong industry. Silently paying our respects to a fallen nation. Lunnon was the capital city of a country once called Anglan. The nation our Anglisc came from.

I am Anglisc. My ancestors once lived here. I wanted to ask my father so many questions about them, about us, about a world before Wánměi, but even if I could allow him in to that degree, there was no guarantee he would remember.

Chew-wen’s Serenity Tabs had seen to that. Complacency at the price of erasure. We threw away so much. Even our history.

I stared up at a crumbling structure, took in the intricate details carved into pale stone. Sharp edges and hard angles. Pointed arches and tall spires. Tiny spikes and curved gargoyles. A hint of what it had been, but enough to know it had been… breathtaking.

Some of what lay in ruins was familiar. A dome here. A colonnaded entranceway there. Broken windows that had at one time been so much like those of Ohrikee. I saw our history. I saw our past. And it was shattered.

How did we recover from this?

Wánměi had survived. Why? Hammurg, just a short distance away from Lunnon, had survived too. Why? Had we been the aggressors as we’d been led to believe the Uripeans had? Were we as bad as the u-Pol?

And where did that leave Merrika? Good or bad? Survivor or victor?

I had so many questions and there was no one who I could ask.

Chew-wen had not so much changed our history, but removed it. Would returning it solve a thing?

I rubbed at my forehead as we continued to walk down rubble strewn streets, climbed over fallen masonry, crawled through broken windows and abandoned buildings, and dirt filled alleyways. There was no sign of life anywhere, but those Lunnoners had to have come from somewhere.

“Our scouts managed to follow their trail to here,” Cardinal Beck advised quietly to my side. “It is hard to say which direction they came from, as their tracks have been washed clean in recent rainfall.”

I stared at the crossroads we stood at, if you could call the open space an intersection. Several buildings lay across it, the remains of vehicles crushed in the middle. Wide pathways covered in dust and debris. Plant life making a valiant attempt at replacing what had at one time been mere concrete. How our scouts had tracked the Lunnoners this far was a miracle alone. But the options for where they would have come from were still limitless.

“Where have we covered so far?” I asked, shifting in my crouch to allow blood flow to my feet. We were hidden, in case we could be seen. But whether or not there were survivors to see us, remained a mystery.

I hoped so. Everything hinged on finding them. Whether our reception would be just as lethal as that given us by their counterparts was debatable. Had that been their only security?

“We’ve covered the east along our entry point and to the west, farther along this thoroughfare, but nothing stood out.”

“So we go north?”

“There is a large structure to the north, undoubtedly a palace of some description,” Beck advised. “Satellite imagery shows it is utterly destroyed, but the footprint would indicate it had at one time been impressive. The land surrounding it is vast, and for a city of this size, land would have been at a premium.”

“Destroyed enough to not provide a possible haven?”

“It is hard to say, but south of here has also been heavily ruined. In all honesty, I don’t think there is anywhere suitable for a permanent settlement.”

“We found somewhere.”

“Our current base is heavily guarded. Your father’s soldiers are stretched to their limit to protect it and yet it is still out in the open. It is an obvious choice for us,” the Cardinal hurried on to explain. “As falling back to the river is possible. But we have a means to navigate the shipping lane, with a boat lying out off shore waiting to back us up. Those who have chosen to stay here do not. We have seen no evidence of a vessel, small or otherwise, which could offer that kind of cover.”

“Your suggestion then?”

“Would they have had a Rap-Trans?”

A rapid transit system like Wánměi’s. My eyes darted down to the dirt strewn ground at my feet and I smiled. Of course they would have had a way to navigate their streets. Or more precisely, a way to avoid the crush that would have existed on their streets.

“Calvin,” I said into my earpiece.

“Searching now, Lena,” my Shiloh replied. “Underground,” he said after a few minutes. “Not very original, and quite frankly more of a direction than a name, but the Lunnoners did call their rapid transit system The Underground.”

“You know, Beck,” I said, preparing to move out, “you’re more clever than you look.”

“I don’t look clever?” he asked, voice deadpan. I could have almost thought it was a tease, but for the tone. Cardinal Beck did not have a playful bone in his body.

“I’m not answering that,” I said on a smile and surprisingly received one in return.

Beck didn’t smile often, but if he did, he’d be a hell of a lot more relaxed than he appeared. The female attention he’d receive alone would see to that.

I offered a very un-Elite-like snort and began to move.

“You are a strange woman, Selena,” Beck murmured behind me.

He understood Elites. He understood the Zebra. But he did not understand me.

I liked that. I liked being a mystery. At one stage Trent had thought the same. Not anymore. Not now. He saw me. Which is why I was disappointed that he hadn’t seen why I had kept the attack a secret.

Trent was a born leader. He could classify a person’s character and figure out how to use it within minutes of meeting. He knew who should go where and what they should do to get the best results in any given situation. He understood motivation and how to manipulate it to get what he needed. He could cajole, encourage, threaten and lead. I might have been a challenge from time to time, but I was not a mystery. Not anymore.

Trent knew me.

So why was he still so angry?

I knew he’d sulk for a while. I knew the dominant side of him would baulk at having been sideswiped. But eventually Trent would see through his fury. See through his hurt. And realise my actions were for the greater good.

Realise that my actions had meaning.

Trent understood altruism. He was the epitome of self-sacrifice. He understood how sometimes you had to take a step backward in order to go forward. Keeping the ambush secret had been a calculated risk. One I had inherently known would backfire. I’d ignored the warnings. Dismissed the possible outcomes.

Because I was sure attacking first, attacking as soon as we landed, was our only way to capture.

Evidence of this was in the difficulty we were having locating the Lunnon survivors.

Trent should have figured all this out by now. Should have seen what the move could have accomplished. Instead he was still nursing his wounds, fuming and brooding. Not planning and reasoning things out.

I needed to kick start him. But that would have to wait until we returned to our base tonight. For now, I needed to locate a Rap-Trans - or Underground - access. And if Lunnon’s rapid transit system was anything like ours, then there’d be one near a major intersection such as this.

I turned in a full circle and got my bearings. It was hard to tell, but I’d hazard a guess this was a business district in its former life. The buildings not as old as those we’d passed walking here. More glass and steel, than brick and mortar. There would be an entrance to the Underground here, I knew it. But finding it in amongst the debris was close to impossible. The buildings I could see or, at least, see where they had once been. But the streets were clogged with the remnants of a shattered city and nothing was signposted.

“Any chance you’ve located maps to this area of the city?” I asked Calvin quietly.

“Better,” he replied immediately. “I have located a map to the Underground system. Although aligning your current location with topographical maps is tricky, I think I know which station is closest.”

“Well?” I said when the computer programme paused dramatically. My father had clearly written code that mimicked human behaviour when he’d created Calvin. One which mirrored himself, it seemed. Dad had always had a flare for the dramatic.

It made me smile, even though I wasn’t happy. Memories were always the hardest to reconcile.

“Victoria Station,” Calvin supplied. “And from archived records, you’re looking for an orange and cream brick building, late nineteenth century, at one time five or six storeys high.”

“Large debris field then,” I said, watching as Beck scanned the area and then pointed.

“Down that street,” he said. “The rubble is older, more worn, less steel.”

Lunnon had been a dichotomy. Old with the new, but living side by side in harmony. Wánměi was a city much like it, but where our old meant Elite, Lunnon’s meant history.

There was a place inside me that felt empty. A place where I was sure something should be. Our past. Our history. Staring at the rising pile of broken buildings before me, I mourned the loss of this city. Lunnon could have filled those gaps. Lunnon still remembered.

But there was no one here with a memory. Just broken bricks and shattered windows. Hearts and souls in ruin.

I followed behind Beck and two of his Cardinals as he led the way toward what remained of Victoria Station. From my vantage point it was clear that not much aboveground had survived. I could only hope that more was intact beneath it. If the Lunnoners had chosen to live underground, we needed to reach them. And from the size of this destroyed city, there were just too many points on the map to attempt that. And too little time before my father called us back and ordered us towards Urip.

Hammurg was still his foremost goal. Rescuing the Wiped his sole focus. He’d dismissed the usefulness of the Lunnoners. Calling them nothing but savage survivors better left to their misery. Interfering, he’d said, would only delay us, and there was no guarantee that they’d want our assistance.

I didn’t see it that way. I saw them as part of the bigger picture. If we needed to change the path of our history, then we needed to include all those who walked upon it. Anglisc, Merrikan, Uripean, Mahiah, Wáikěinese and D’awan. The Lunnoners fit in there somewhere, and from what we’d seen I’d say they were D’awan.

I already felt like they were family.

“You do realise,” Cardinal Beck said as we climbed over crumpled walls and slid down broken roof tiles, “that they won’t welcome us with open arms. We killed their people.”

“We defended ourselves against an attack,” I corrected.

“Do you really believe they’ll see it like that?”

No, I didn’t. But try as we had, there’d been no way to halt what had transpired. The Lunnoners had behaved as though compelled to kill us. There’d been no opportunity for discourse. No chance for a truce to be brokered.

I wasn’t sure what we’d face when we found them. But I was sure I couldn’t leave this city without trying.

“What is your goal here, Selena?” Beck said, coming to a stop a few paces ahead of me. He was staring down at something on the ground. When I came abreast of him I could see it was a well worn street sign.

At one time it would have been white. Now it was cracked and peeling and more a cream, sun bleached colour. But the outline of a circle could still be seen. Faded, barely there, but perhaps once red. A line bisected it, cutting the circle in half. Blue, I think.

And on it, just visible if you guessed a few of the letters… UNDERGROUND.

Next to the sign was another. I could see the V and at the end an R, I and A.

We’d found it.

“My goal,” I said, taking in the rubble covered stairwell off to the side. “Simple,” I murmured. “I’m chasing history.”

“Chasing history?”

I pulled my gaze from the task ahead. Going down there wasn’t going to be easy. This was clearly not one of their more utilised access ways.

I let a breath of air out and said softly, “We can’t change it, if we can’t find it, Cardinal.”

He stared at me for a long moment and then nodded his head.

“Form up!” he instructed the Cardinals. “Steady.” He looked down at me, cool calm and collected, waiting for my nod. For my command to proceed. This was it. My chance to correct a mistake and make things better. I only wished Trent was here with me.

I nodded my head and Beck ordered quietly, “Go, go, go.”

We moved out in unison, a synchronised wave of Wánměi’s military. And then the darkness of Lunnon’s Underground swallowed us up completely.

Seven

This Was Lena

Trent

They were going underground. My breath all but left me. There’d be no room to manoeuvre down there, if any room was left at all. From the state of the road aboveground, I could only assume that some of the damage reached deeper than street level.

But I understood what they were doing. I understood, and under normal circumstances would have applauded it, but that didn’t mean that right then I had to like it.

“Makes sense,” Alan said quietly at my side. “We’ve seen neither hide nor hair of the Lunnoners aboveground. Where else could they be?”

“Hmmm,” I said, evasively.

“But what the fuck is she planning once she’s down there?”

Good question. And if I knew Lena, it was the only one that mattered.

She’d made a mistake. Lena was nothing if not honest with herself. She’d recognise the ambush had gone south and she’d want to step up to the plate and correct things. But going down blind into a dark hole under the streets of a forgotten city was not the way to achieve it.

And Cardinal Fucking Beck was encouraging her. The idiot.

I sat on my haunches and watched the Cardinal team move out. Fluid. Silent. Stealthily. I had to hand to him, he’d trained them well. And there was Lena. In the thick of it. As much a part of their team as the man who led them.

In fact, if I wasn’t mistaken, Beck took his lead from Lena.

Tan had a hand in this. I’d laugh, if I wasn’t so monumentally fucked off.

Lee Fucking Tan interfering from across the sea.

Figures.

But what was his endgame? What did he think Lena was doing?

I thought about it, as we followed them down into the darkness. As we navigated fallen masonry and dust filled hallways. As the signs of a lost city became clearer, untainted by wind or rain or sunlight. It reminded me of a mausoleum. Preserved and protected from outside elements.

Farther away from the entrance to the Underground the damage was more contained. Occasionally the roof had collapsed, but the deeper we went, the more intact it all seemed. The logic was sound; if anyone lived, survived, in Lunnon, then they’d do it underground. But the air was stale, putrid even. The heat was excruciating, reminding me of Wánměi in the middle of summer. And the facilities were practically nonexistent.

Who lives like this? Who would have to?

And why would they?

There was something about these Lunnoners that made me nervous, and it had nothing to do with their homemade laser guns. It was the way they behaved. Aggressively but resolutely. As though they didn’t have a choice. As though more than just their lives depended on it.

I couldn’t put my finger on it. Every time I thought about the way they’d almost sacrificed themselves in that ambush, determined to give us nothing but their bodies, I’d come up blank.

Who fights like that? Not even drones. Everyone has a self-preservation switch. Mechanical. Human. It doesn’t matter. Suicide by gunfire was not something I could relate to.

But I wondered if Lena did. If she knew something, or suspected it. I wondered if what compelled Lena to find these people had something to do with their behaviour. Perhaps more to do with that than the fact she’d kept a dangerous secret from me.

I sighed as we dodged more debris, quietly stalking our prey through the shattered remains of a once bustling railway. In truth, I’d reconciled why Lena had done it. I’d seen her logic, even if I disagreed. Calvin was right. I’d been as bad as her father.

Trying desperately to protect her from a threat that seemed real.

Cal loved her. He was just attempting to make up for it in record speed.

I’d exacerbated the situation, by insisting Lena keep close, keep safe, keep contained. No one should contain Lena. I should have known better. I did know better. But where Lena was concerned, sometimes I lost the ability to think clearly, it seemed.

Base instincts and knee-jerk reactions. That’s what Lena did to me.

I’d die protecting her. I’d give up everything to keep her safe. But I had no right to take a thing. And by containing Lena, I’d taken that which she prized most dearly.

Her freedom. Her equality. In a nutshell, her.

I’d done the exact thing I shouldn’t have.

No wonder she’d kept the ambush a secret from me.

I shook my head and came to a halt at an intersection of the tunnel. Tracks went off in two different directions, both ominously dark, neither giving up their secrets. But something stayed me. Something made me pause. There was little noise. The occasional scrape of boots on loose stones, but no more than you’d expect a rodent to make. I knew which way Lena and the Cardinal team had gone, but not why they’d chosen it. Perhaps they’d flipped a credit.

But still I didn’t follow. Alan crouched down silently beside me, not uttering a word, nor barely breathing. If he questioned my hesitation, he didn’t show it. Just sat patiently waiting for me to proceed.

The Cardinal team was getting farther and farther away, and by extension so was Lena. Part of me screamed for me to move, to follow, to keep her close.

Another part remembered how confining I’d recently been.

But my hesitation wasn’t due to guilt or regret. It wasn’t due to any redeeming quality. I’m not that perfect.

It was a gut instinct, a primal urge. Or maybe I was just thinking tactically.

Because if I wanted to ambush an invading army, I’d do it right here. I’d let them pick a route and I’d silently peel out of the shadows and follow. I’d let them think they’d made a choice, when in fact I’d herded them into a trap and was closing the noose behind them.

They were desperate these Lunnoners. For what, I wasn’t sure. But desperate people do desperate things.

So we sat and waited. Time stood still and Lena got farther and farther away.

I started to think that I’d made a mistake. The seconds were ticking by into minutes. I’m not sure how many; I was too frightened to count.

Even Alan shifted on his knees.

And then they appeared, more animal like than human. Some crouched, some hobbled, some walked on all fours. In the darkness it was hard to see, but a small amount of illumination spilled down from a break in the tunnel’s ceiling, enough to make out at least a dozen. Small, ragged, filthy, and not just a little horror movie creepy.

These were what was left of the Lunnoners? It didn’t make sense. Those we’d fought were poorly dressed but in relative good health. These seemed not real.

I looked across to Alan, he shrugged his shoulders and then nodded towards where the tail end of the underground army had been.

Fuck! Now we had a bunch of deformed children between us and Lena. I couldn’t see this ending at all well.

We crept out of our hiding hole, slowly following the creatures as they slowly followed Lena and her team.

I should have known better. This was Lena. The Zebra of Wánměi. The woman jumped off tall sky-rises, somersaulted through clear air thirty storeys up. I should have known she’d have equally as reckless skills under the ground.

One minute we were following the followers.

The next we’d been caught in Lena’s trap. Along with the creepy crawlies.

Eight

They Are Coming

Lena

Lights flashed. Sounds echoed. The tunnel became a riotous clammer of cries and screams. I shouted a warning to the Cardinals. “Don’t hurt them!” But protecting ourselves from the stones and metal bars and clawed hands meant retaliation of some description was necessary.

Still, we took a battering. The intermittent illumination made it difficult to identify them, but the stench of their ragged clothing determined we’d finally found what was left of the Lunnoners.

Or, at least, a portion of them.

But as the Cardinals got the situation under control, contained those last few who bucked and scratched and bit and spat, torches flashed on and we could see.

Ten, maybe twelve, small children sat on the ground, their dirt smeared tanned skin blending into the shadows, their dark almond shaped eyes staring up disgruntled out of sneering faces. Crooked teeth and rotten breath added to the imagery.

So small. So neglected. And, other than their skin tone, so different from the men who’d attacked us upon landing.

And then a Cardinal hauled two adult sized bodies forward, both with their hands raised in surrender and amused smirks gracing their faces.

“What the…?” Cardinal Beck exclaimed. “Were you following us?” he then demanded.

Trent’s eyes found me. We stared at each other, neither uttering a sound. The stand-off interrupted by Alan.

“Ungrateful prick,” he grunted.

“Ungrateful?” Beck challenged. “You could have ruined the plan.”

“Oh, you had a plan?” Alan said, deadpan. “Thought you were blindly going into a dark hole without any consideration to your safety.” He paused. “Or Lena’s.”

Ah, so he was going to take that path, was he?

“Why are you here, Trent?” I said softly, before the Cardinal blew his stack.

Trent let out a small huff of breath, shrugged out of the shoulder hold of the Cardinal who’d been detaining him, and took a step forward. Laser guns whirred to life all around me. The children flinched, but watched on with avid interest. Trent looked at me and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest, face impassive.

I just sighed.

“Stand down,” I ordered. The laser wielding Cardinals didn’t move. “For crying out loud, he’s one of us!” Nothing. “Beck,” I growled.

“Stand down,” he murmured, but his stance said he was doing no such thing.

“Trent?” I said encouragingly. He’d better have a damn good reason for being here. He’d dogged my steps enough lately. Turning up and throwing his rebel leader weight around right now would be the final straw.

I wasn’t sure how much heartache my body could take.

“Lena,” he said, my name a soft whisper on his lips. It was just a name, but the way he said it made it so much more. As though he still adored it. As though he was in awe of it. As though, merely voicing it, meant everything.

I felt trapped by his heated gaze. A trap I had never wanted to get out of.

“I’ve been a jerk,” he said, making me narrow my eyes in confusion. The Cardinals didn’t exactly shuffle uncomfortably on their feet - they were too well trained for that - but if a blink of their eyes could convey discomfort, then theirs did in that moment. Call it what you will, male solidarity, manly pride, but none of them wanted to be in Trent’s shoes, right then.

I almost snorted. But laughing at Trent would only make things worse. And looking at him now, I realised I didn’t want things to get worse. I wanted him back. In my corner. On my side.

I’d missed him. It seemed ridiculous somehow. But there it was.

“Not just yesterday,” Trent added, meaning the ambush from hell when we’d landed. “But for the past few weeks. And here’s the thing, I thought I was taking care of you. I guess my compass is a little off, huh?” He thrust his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged his shoulders, looking a little lost.

I almost caved. I almost took the few short steps needed to reach him. And then my eyes caught the neutral expression on Alan’s face. Ordinarily Alan would be disturbed by Trent’s bare knuckles confession. Ordinarily he’d snort or shake his head and stare off into space, as if watching this train wreck unfold was too absurd to even contemplate. But he wasn’t doing any of that.

He was standing there patiently waiting for the moment to pass. No shock on his hard face. No disgust in the curve of his lips. Nothing.

My eyes came back to Trent; he’d seen my assessment. He wasn’t looking so chagrinned now, was he? No, he looked ready to do battle.

I started to shake my head and then Alan murmured, out of the side of his mouth in a overloud mock whisper, “Try harder. She’s not falling for it.”

Trent offered his best friend a hard glare and then turned back to look at me. His eyes briefly took in the audience we had. And there it was, real emotion. Embarrassment mixed with anxiety. He was covering the truth with a lie.

I knew Trent. I knew what he’d had to be to keep the rebels alive. To keep them going. At times, there’d only been a handful of them. At others, there’d been more than fifty. He’d adjusted his management techniques to accommodate the numbers, or lack thereof. He’d been what was needed when it was needed. No questions asked.

He could be hard and unforgiving. Motivational and inspiring. A friend or a teacher. He’d played the roles that were necessary in order to keep them fighting.

But what was he fighting here? Me?

No. He was fighting his part, the character he’d been forced to play. He was fighting the role of rebel leader.

“Baby,” he said, but I held my hand up for him to stop. The more he said, the worse it got. Alone we could be honest with each other. But we couldn’t be alone right now. The fact that he’d come at all should have meant something. Either he was trying to protect me again, which would make me infinitely mad. Or he was really trying to reach out to me. To meet me halfway. To back me up. To be what I needed him to be.

It was hard to trust my head when my heart was hurting. But the bottom line was without Trent this meant nothing. Life. Liberty. Chasing our past, changing our future. Without Trent it would be a hollow victory.

I turned my attention to the children, effectively shutting down the conversation for now. We’d talk later. I’d reassure my heart later… that, in fact, he’d meant everything.

Trent was not an easy person to get inside of, to get behind the façade he kept between him and the world at large. But despite the cover he wore, despite the role he insisted he play in public, if I let myself, if I trusted in what I felt, I could see. Him. The man beneath the label.

Just like he usually saw the woman beneath The Zebra.

“Do you know who we are?” I said in D’maru. A dozen large eyes blinked slowly. “Do you know where we’ve come from?” Nothing.

I felt Trent walk up to my side; a show of solidarity. It meant more than the confession. And maybe that was the answer; trust in his actions and not the words he was forced to utter.

I glanced at him, but his attention was on the children. He studied them with a calculated look. Took in their appearance, their location, the entire situation, in one sweep of his laser-sharp eyes.

“Do you speak Anglisc?” he asked. Nothing.

“Wáitaměi?” I tried. “Mahiah,” I added out of desperation when we got blank looks unanimously.

No one said anything for several seconds, and then Trent turned to face me. Arms back across his chest, the move not defensive but more contemplative. He stared at me for a suspended moment, and then he whispered quietly, “Care to test a theory?”

I arched a brow, but nodded my head; just once. I was still a little angry.

He reached forward and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. My traitorous body betrayed me; swaying into his touch willingly. I tried to straighten, to pull back, but Trent shook his head. Minutely. But I saw it. I also saw the hunger in his eyes. A hunger that hadn’t diminished in all the time I’d known him. Just intensified, like a fire burning out of control. Banked on occasion, but an inferno when let free.

There was no denying Trent desired me, but what with his behaviour lately, I sometimes wondered if he did in fact love me.

“Baby,” he murmured. “You are everything.”

I searched his face for a clue, for a hint that he wasn’t acting. He looked sincere. But he was putting on a show, of that I was certain.

“This is hardly the place or time,” Cardinal Beck interrupted. “We are exposed here. If these urchins have backup, we’re sitting ducks.”

Trent offered him a growl, his hand slipping to the back of my neck possessively. And here was the protective instinct kicking in again, I thought.

But then the children moved. En masse, surging up and growling. At Beck. A bigger ‘back off’ he couldn’t have received.

Trent smiled. His eyes on me and not the ragged kids.

“They understand,” he said.

“They understand body language,” I argued.

“Yes and no,” he said, pulling away with a soft stroke of his finger over my cheek. “They appreciate a good love story, but there is understanding of our language to some degree.”

His hand slipped into mine, then he pulled me down into a crouch before the children. Bringing us to their height. They stilled, but didn’t pull back. Anticipation and curiosity shone from their eyes. A sense of greed poured from their little bodies.

This close I could see their injuries, the disabilities they lived with, that they could have lived with since birth. It was hard to tell. This environment would not have been conducive to a healthy lifestyle. Danger would have lurked at every pass. I also had trouble identifying what was wrong with them. In Wánměi we didn’t suffer like this. Upper lips split so wide the teeth inside were missing. Feet pointing in the wrong direction to such a degree it was clear the children walked on their ankles. Some had hands missing. Some had wisps of hair on their head as though they were eighty. Bones at odd angles. Eyes milky white. Skin covered in open sores.

This close my heart weeped.

“What’s happened to them?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“There are parts of Lunnon,” Calvin said in my ear, “that should not be seen.”

“This happened because they went there?” I queried. When none of the Cardinals, nor Trent and Alan, looked confused at my question, I knew Calvin had made his comment to everyone wearing an earpiece.

“This happened because they were born too near them,” Calvin said softly.

“All of this?” Beck asked. I hadn’t realised he’d come up behind me. And as my hand was still in Trent’s, I felt Trent stiffen at the Cardinal’s proximity. I was sure it was his proximity to me.

But Trent didn’t react, other than to hold my hand tighter. Then he forced his punishing grip on my fingers to loosen. The effort required looked painful. He was trying, I’d give him that. And somehow it made a difference. Somehow it made it easier to believe.

The confession had been delivered as an act; the rebel leader pretending to be contrite. The irony was the words had been honest.

I squeezed his hand back.

“Life here would not be easy,” Calvin was saying. “Born in the shadow of such devastation. Forced to survive in a world already half dead. Why they stay is a mystery.”

“They have no way to navigate the ocean,” Alan offered.

“Where there is a will, there is a way,” Calvin said cryptically.

I watched the children watching us. They didn’t shuffle in their seats as the young of Wánměi so often did. They didn’t look elsewhere when their attention span short circuited. They watched with an intensity that puzzled me. Not scared, but wary. Not aggressive, but tightly coiled.

They’d attack given half the chance. But they understood the threat of the Cardinals’ laser guns. Still, their interest piqued my own. They were waiting for something.

Despite their physical injuries, they were intelligent of mind. Maybe Trent was right. Maybe they understood more than body language. But what tongue did they speak?

I leaned over slightly and placed a hand to the centre of Trent’s chest. He automatically lifted his free hand to cup mine, holding it against his heart without conscious thought. Yes, actions spoke louder than words. But I needed the children to speak.

“Trent,” I said. Then repeated it. I pulled my hand from his grip, feeling the cool air as soon as his heat left me, and laid it flat against my own chest. “Lena,” I added. Repeating my name again for good measure.

Then I slowly, so very slowly, shuffled forward, reaching out my hand to the closest child. He had dark hair, not wispy in the slightest, but his upper lip was split, leaving his mouth constantly open. It looked painful, but he didn’t show it, if it was. He watched, fascinated, as my hand came closer. Not moving. Barely breathing.

And then my fingers reached his chest.

His clothes were rough, hard where they should have been soft. Stiff with dirt and a life lived underground and inside a broken city. I could feel his ribs through thin skin. His eyes met mine, big pools of dark brown liquid. This precious little child didn’t move a muscle. He let me touch him, almost as though in awe.

I raised my eyebrows in question, but when he didn’t say a word, I pulled my hand back. Watching as his body followed before he could stop it. I touched Trent again. Faster this time. Desperate to have that contact with the child again.

“Trent,” I said. Then tapped my chest. “Lena,” I added, returning my hand, forcing myself to slow down, back to the child’s chest.

I tapped it twice, leaning down, meeting his eyes, brows arched in question.

“You?” I whispered.

He whispered something back. It could have been a mimic of what I’d just said. ‘You’ but different, encumbered by his damaged upper lip. I wondered if he could talk at all. Then wondered if I’d chosen the wrong child to try to reach.

But this one had called to me. So small. So filthy. So… fragile. So broken needlessly.

“You?” I said again, slightly louder, more probing.

“Nirbhay,” he blurted, and then a torrent of words followed. The name was one I recognised. D’awan. But the words that flowed afterwards were foreign.

Part Anglisc. Part D’maru. And part something else altogether.

“What’s he saying?” Cardinal Beck asked.

“Shhh,” I snapped, leaning closer, trying to decipher the child’s stumbling words.

The other children moved toward him, as if to protect. The Cardinals all tensed.

And then Calvin said, “Uripean. There are hints of Teiamanisch in amongst the Anglisc and D’maru. Their language has evolved to include all three.”

“A pidgin Anglisc,” Alan added.

“Yes,” Calvin agreed. “I am attempting to extrapolate the parameters and will have a translation formula prepared in a few minutes.”

I smiled at the child, as his friends started jabbering away in the same multi-language as he had been. Nodding my head and encouraging them, as if I understood. And then I felt the child’s hand slip into mine softly.

His fingers were calloused. A hard nodule protruded from three of his knuckles. But a more promising sensation there had never been. There was hope here. There was a chance that we could achieve what we’d failed with their older counterparts. Children are such forgiving creatures. So open to change and progress, where their elders are stuck fast in their upbringing.

I held my breath as Calvin worked silently in the background, promise an emotion I gladly received.

And then my Shiloh announced, “I have it. Translating now.”

It took a second for Calvin to isolate my child’s voice from the rest, but I knew it was his translation that I eventually heard.

Because as he tugged on my hand evermore urgently, his young voice becoming desperate, Calvin said in our ears, “They are coming. They are coming. They are coming.”

Nine

And The Plan?

Trent

A moment’s panic set in. Not our usual SOP. But Calvin’s words in our ears had done a number. It didn’t help that the kid holding Lena’s hand was getting quite agitated. Tugging her towards the deeper, darker shadows of the tunnel. Urging her on in that strange language they all used and were frantically muttering.

None of them raised their voices, and that was perhaps what set my body in motion. Had they screamed, I would have forced myself to take charge. To shut them up in any manner possible. Disregarding what they said in order to calmly control the situation.

But no assessment was necessary. They had decided to warn us, a warning they delivered in muted tones but with urgency. A warning that skittered down my spine and set alarm bells off inside my head.

They are coming.

As soon as Calvin had translated Nirbhay’s words, all the creepy crawlies had chimed in, backing him up. Unanimously agreeing to help us.

Although, as they’d clearly trapped the trappers, maybe this was all still part of the act.

I couldn’t tell. They weren’t any enemy I’d ever come up against. Wánměi is not exactly full of deformed, under-nourished children.

“Who’s coming?” a Cardinal demanded, as the panic still swirled around us.

“It’s a trap,” Lena advised steadily, making it obvious that she’d come to the same conclusion as me. She stood up, hand still clasped in Nirhbay’s, face set, body in liquid-like motion. She was always such a joy to watch move. Like a dancer with lethal abilities. I watched as she checked her own laser gun, attached to her upper thigh, and then her eyes found me.

“Very clever,” I murmured, checking my gun too. “But if it’s u-Pol they forgot one thing.”

“And that is?” Beck demanded.

“Never work with children or animals,” I muttered, powering up my gun and letting the whine of electronics punctuate that statement.

“Movement aboveground,” Calvin advised through the earpieces. The fact he was including us again meant things had turned south pretty quickly. Until he’d started translating the kids’ words, he’d been ominously silent in Alan’s and my ears.

I wasn’t sure I was entirely happy about the change up. But with an unknown threat approaching, a terrain we weren’t familiar with, and creepy crawlies as our only allies, I’d take any help I could get.

“Let’s go,” I announced. “I’d rather be on the move than standing here when they breach The Underground.”

“And if these children are leading us into a dead-end where the u-Pol are waiting?” Beck asked, all snark and then some.

“Then you better be ready,” Alan muttered, shouldering past the Cardinal, his own laser gun fired up and waiting.

The kids knew the layout, had obviously covered this ground a time or two before. They scampered over debris, ducked under low lying fallen beams, skirted more dangerous areas; basically provided a crash course in underground survival techniques.

I watched as Lena took it all in. Each move they made. Each compensated for injury. They may have looked like something out of a horror movie, but they didn’t let it slow them down one bit.

Which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, because the speed in which they were travelling meant something.

“Who’s up there, Calvin?” I muttered, scraping my hand against a rough rock wall and feeling skin peel. I flexed my fingers once I’d gotten my balance back, but the sting of whatever coated the wall down here set my teeth on edge. How far were we from those no-go areas of Lunnon?

“Night has fallen, it is difficult to see anything on satellite imagery,” the Shiloh answered.

As far as plans went, this one sucked beyond all comprehension. I shook my head, angry at myself for allowing us to get caught in such a predicament and, I’ll admit, angry at Lena for getting herself into such a situation. Again.

This was not going to end well.

We needed backup, but as all the Cardinals were down here with Lena, and the only person I trusted back at the base was Si, that left just one conclusion. And Lena was not gonna like it.

“Lena,” I whispered as we came to a brief pause at a difficult to navigate section.

Her stunning blue eyes swung towards me. In the dim glow of our torches they shined, lighting up this shit-hole better than a Christmas Tree. She arched her brow, but didn’t speak. Like a true professional, she instinctively knew the less verbalised the better. We were deep in enemy territory. Being hunted. Any noise now could mean our end.

“We need help,” I whispered in her ear.

“The children…” she started, her face turned to mine, soft breath across my cheek. I closed my eyes; now was not the time to fantasise about make-up sex.

“I think we have to let your father know what’s happening.”

And there went any chance of getting Lena horizontal.

“I trust them,” she argued, nodding towards our new found allies.

I sighed, looking at the conviction I could see on her face, in her eyes.

“You shouldn’t,” I whispered, regret making my words raspy.

She knew. I knew she knew. Lena was not stupid. She’d laid a trap for them, and they’d flipped the trap on end. Just because it looked like they’d changed their minds, decided to disobey their orders, and help us, didn’t mean it was real.

“Ten minutes ago these kids were attacking us,” I murmured. “Ten minutes ago they were the enemy.”

Lena blinked. Long lashes coasting over cream skin. Utter perfection. I’d always thought her stunning, but dressed in combat gear, laser gun in hand, several knives strapped to her torso, hair tied up in a messy bun, she was out of this world incredible.

“I’ve never thought them the enemy, Trent,” she said. “That’s always been your angle. Not mine.”

And then she was up and following the last person to cross a spindly arse plank of wood across a deep chasm that must have gone on to the centre of the earth for how pitch black it seemed at the bottom. No hesitation. No arms outstretched for added balance. Gun in hand, feet light as a feather, she rocketed over the makeshift bridge to the other side and then waited.

Well, all right then. I gritted my teeth, muttered several times, “Do not look down,” and took the plank a whole lot slower, but at least not embarrassingly. I might have moaned a little in relief when I reached the other side.

Alan followed and then the rear guard; two of Beck’s most trusted Cardinals. It’s not often that Alan would be comfortable with someone at his back. But right now comfort was a luxury we’d long since bypassed.

Lena didn’t carry on our conversation, she simply nodded her head at Nirbhay once we’d all made it across the divide, and then we were off. More dark spaces. More fallen masonry. More too tight holes to climb through.

Until we came out into a vast space.

The night sky was once again visible, stars like you never see in over-illuminated Wánměi shone down from above. The moon lit up everything. Shattered remains of what had to have been a huge station lay all around us, like skeletal fingers the brick walls jutted out from the ground spotlighting a huge target area for all to see. X marks the spot. If there was a better place for an ambush, I’d never seen one. But the kids didn’t hesitate, keeping their heads down, they moved out across the vast space, ensuring we kept to the natural shadows.

We’d never have been able to cross the area unseen without them. If they were leading us into a trap, they were taking their time about it, and ensuring we got there in one piece while they did it.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that; I didn’t trust them. But then I didn’t trust a lot of people. Alan. Si. Paul. Lena, and even then lately she’d been doing things I questioned. Certainly not a bunch of forgotten kids in a broken city working with the enemy.

We needed to get a handle on this situation and fast. I could feel the reins slipping out of my fingers. I could almost feel the laser sight in the centre of my back.

But then we made it across the shooting gallery and into the darkness of The Underground again.

This time it was different. This time there was clear evidence of the path down having seen some action. Forget about alarm bells clanging inside my head, I had a fucking klaxon blaring a warning, the loud sound reverberating throughout my entire body.

“Calvin,” I said softly, the uncertainty clear in my tone.

“I can’t help you under there, Trent,” the Shiloh answered. “I have no eyes nor ears to scout.”

“You let us go down there before,” I pointed out.

“I let Lena do what she had to do to make contact with the indigenous of this city.”

“And now we have?” I pressed.

“You’re on your own.”

Great. No vid-cams to hook Calvin into. No Net to allow him access to visual feeds or pick through various media for clues. Even the fact nightfall had arrived curtailed his assistance. Something was out there. Something that made the kids run, leading us… where?

These were just children. They might have been raised in a world that didn’t care, become tough enough to exist there, but they were still kids. Minors. Barely out of nappies. Snotty noses, shitty bums, and all the rest.

And what do kids do when they’re scared?

They go home. They go to their safe place. They run and hide.

Well, fuck. If it was the u-Pol who hunted us, who expected these kids to hand us over without a care, then they’d know where these kids lived, right?

Fuck.

“Calvin,” I whispered, as the tunnels narrowed and the ceiling closed in.

“Yes, Trent,” he said just as quietly, as if his voice could cary farther than my ear.

“Let Carstairs know we’re about to be FUBARed.”

“I’ll advise him, Trent,” the computer said. I had the feeling he’d isolated our conversation. Better to land me in it later with Lena? Without a doubt. But I couldn’t complain. We were heading towards a whole lot of trouble, and I never went into a fucked up situation without a plan.

And the plan? Shoot first, ask questions later, and hope like hell that Carstairs’ Merrikan soldiers could dig us out after the fact.

Ten

What Have You Done?

Lena

This was not good. Even I could see that. And if I could, then Trent sure as hell could, too. Anticipation and anxiety rolled off him in waves. His trigger finger twitching. If I didn’t calm him down, our one chance at reaching these people would be lost to us forever.

But the more wound up he got, the more I did too. I’d told him I trusted the children. It wasn’t entirely the truth. I trusted that this was our only chance at making peace with the Lunnoners. I trusted in our ability to win them over, given that chance. But I did not trust them completely.

Despite that lack of trust, though, I ached for them. So small. So alone. So fragile. And facing up to odds that made my heart weep.

Nirbhay led the way, continually looking over his shoulder at me, as if I might evaporate in the stifling heat down here. Every now and then he’d reached out for my hand. Squeeze my fingers, as though he could see I needed encouragement. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? He couldn’t have been older than ten.

But as he led us through the dark of The Underground it was the child who consoled the adult.

“Movement at the entrance to your tunnel,” Calvin advised over the earpieces. Trent swore softly. Alan snarled something indecipherable, and Cardinal Beck started issuing orders to his men making up the rearguard.

There was no way we were going to make it to wherever it was the children were leading us. Not now. The thought was sobering. And regretful. How much danger were we bringing to their world? To ours?

“Nirbhay,” I whispered, gaining our guide’s attention. “We’re being followed.”

He nodded his head, but whether he understood what I’d said, or simply wanted to make me feel better by agreeing, I couldn’t say.

The tunnel branched off suddenly. The fork appearing out of nowhere in the gloom. Both avenues looked dark and foreboding. Nirhbay chattered in that pidgin Anglisc to a couple of his friends, and then several split off in one direction, while Nirbhay reached out and tugged my hand in the other.

“Lena,” Trent growled in warning.

“I know, I know,” I mumbled, but what else could I say? I had no idea where we were going, just that we were being followed. If we abandoned Nirbhay and his compatriots now, we’d be blind down here. Worse off than we currently were.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to be prepared.

“How many, Calvin?” I whispered into the heavy silence.

“I estimate twenty,” my Shiloh replied. “But that is an estimation. There are simply too many shadows aboveground for me to be certain I didn’t miss any.”

“So, minimum twenty,” Beck muttered.

“Can you at least confirm if they were u-Pol or armed?” Trent demanded.

“Identification was impossible, but none have remained aboveground,” Calvin supplied. “And yes, Trent,” he added. “They were definitely armed.”

“Lasers?”

“It appeared so.”

Trent was silent a moment and then with a sigh he said, “And Carstairs?”

“A contingency of soldiers is on the move from the base as we speak.”

I twisted around to look over my shoulder at Trent, my eyes full of accusation. His met mine, head on, challenge undertaken. Not an ounce of guilt or shame in the blue staring back.

“What did you expect, baby?” he murmured, only loud enough for me to hear. “There is no way I would let you walk alone into a trap. No way.”

I couldn’t argue with him. I didn’t want to anymore. He was right. This was probably a trap. But that didn’t mean I was giving up all hope.

“Translate for me, Calvin,” I announced.

“When you’re ready,” the computer replied.

I tapped Nirbhay on the shoulder, drawing his attention. He looked up at me expectantly as he reached out to grasp my hand, tugging me forward at the same time as he waited for me to speak. The fact that he wasn’t mucking around scared me. The fact that he’d split his team worried me even more. Just what was he up to down here?

I pushed it all aside and said, “Are they u-Pol?” Calvin translated, his voice coming out of the speakers in my wristwatch.

Nirbhay glanced down at the device, his footsteps halting momentarily. Wide eyed, his free hand reached out, then he thought better of it, and started tugging me forward again instead.

“u-Pol,” he said. No translation required.

“What do they want?” Calvin translated again. But Nirbhay just shook his head, frantically pulling me forward with one hand, the other up to his face, finger pressed to his split lip requesting silence.

“I don’t like this,” Alan grumbled over my shoulder.

“You and me both,” Trent agreed.

“Quiet,” Beck hissed, but I couldn’t help feeling it was his way of throwing his vote in with Trent and Alan.

If I could have spoken then, I would have agreed. None of this was good.

We walked on for several more minutes, until we reached a rock fall in the tunnel. God alone knew how long it had been there. It was hard to tell if Nirbhay was surprised. But there was no denying our way forward had been crushed under a roof collapse. Panic started to crawl up my throat as I turned around and looked back down the tunnel that we’d just traversed.

“Fuck,” Trent muttered.

“Trap,” I think I heard Cardinal Beck say.

But all I could do was look at the men I’d brought down here, at their faces as realisation hit. I’d brought them here. Trapped them in a no-win situation. Took a gamble and now they’d pay the price. This was all my fault.

My heart beat a frantic rhythm in the centre of my chest. Sweat beaded my brow. An ache had started up deep down inside; guilt, shame, desolation taking up residence.

I pulled my laser gun from its holster and powered it up. Beck looked across the small space toward me and nodded, firing up his as well. My eyes found Trent’s.

“It’s OK,” he whispered and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. “It’s OK.”

It wasn’t, but he was doing his best to reassure me. Forgive me. I held his gaze, saw the conviction in his eyes. Saw more than I had any right to claim. I’d wondered if he did in fact love me recently, what with the over-protective way he’d been behaving. But there was no doubt now. Love, so deep, so consuming, shone back at me. Lighting up the dark tunnel as if it blazed with the power of a million lights. Dear God, no matter what, he loved me.

And I’d done this.

“This is not how we go,” he said, stepping closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “This is not the end.”

“Then what is it?”

He huffed out a breath of air. I would have said it was amused, if not for the fucked up situation.

“They want us? Then they’re just gonna have to fight to get to us.” He lifted his laser gun as if to punctuate that point.

Fighting words from a man who had spent the better part of his life fighting. And it would all end in a dark underground tunnel in a forgotten city that was meant to have been our hope.

Pain like I had never experienced coursed through me, centring in my heart. I lifted a numbed hand to rub at my chest, but nothing alleviated it.

“It’s OK,” Trent repeated and then with one last kiss to my temple, turned to face what was coming.

It took so long my fingers had started to cramp around the laser gun’s grip. I flexed them as sweat ran over my cheek and down my neck. My heart pounded against my ribs. My lips felt dry and cracked. The air stuck to everything with a soot filled stench that clogged our lungs. I couldn’t fathom how anyone could live down here.

I couldn’t fathom that this would be where it ended.

In that second before they came I thought of Wánměi. I thought of the difference in the dense air between here and there. I thought of the clean rain and the heavily scented flowers. The lush greens and the vibrant colours. Wánměi was life. Lunnon was death.

How had we ever thought it held the answers?

Someone shuffled on their feet, getting better footing on the uneven rail ties. I could hear the laboured breathing of someone else. No one spoke. What was there to say? With our backs to a wall of debris, and our eyes trained for any sign of movement ahead, we waited.

And then a rumble sounded out.

For a second or two I couldn’t decipher what it was. A collapsing tunnel? Some sort of weapon Calvin and failed to see?

And then recognition flared, along with several synapses. My mind whirring, my heart thumping, my emotions in a tumult of hope and despair.

“Is that coming towards us?” Cardinal Beck asked. He’d crouched down as soon as the sound had started, just like the rest of his team of men. Ready, but not really prepared.

“The tracks were damaged farther back,” a Cardinal advised, his voice full of misguided hope.

“Won’t stop it if it’s going fast enough,” Alan offered. He’d recognised the sound too, it seemed.

“Nirbhay?” I whispered, then felt him step up to my side.

“Not… long,” he said, in relatively good Anglisc. “Wait,” he added, making the moment stretch.

“Well, that covers the whole understanding us part,” Trent offered, his eyes toward the end of the tunnel, where we’d come from, and where the sound of the oncoming train roared from now.

“What are we waiting for?” a Cardinal said, fear coating every syllable.

“Steady,” Beck ordered, not moving a muscle, laser gun raised, but what he thought he could do against a fifty ton train engine with that, I couldn’t guess.

The walls started to rattle, bits of broken brick and dust raining down on the gravel floor. A howling wind blew down the tunnel towards us; superheated, heavy, grim. The sound became deafening, as if the train was on top of us, but still we could see no movement ahead. And then mortar coated us, as a couple of tunnel wall bricks clattered to the ground, and the vibration started sending shockwaves up our shins.

Within a second or two it passed. The walls slowing down in their rattle and shake, the floor undulating more gently, the dust a light coating not a full-on powder shower. Through out it all I’d held my breath. I let it out slowly now.

“Time to go,” Nirbhay said carefully. His command of Anglisc was rusty, taking all his effort not to slip back into the pidgin language they all preferred.

I stared down at the dirt smeared child, my eyes no doubt as big as saucers inside my head.

“What the hell?” Alan said, voicing what was on all our tongues.

“Distraction,” Trent replied. “The kids in that other tunnel. The ones who split off. How the fuck they managed to get a locomotive engine going, though, is anyone’s guess.”

“I think there might be more to the Lunnoners’ survival than meets the eye,” Calvin offered in our ears.

“Come,” Nirbhay encouraged. “Come now.”

I raised my eyebrow at Trent. He shrugged his shoulders back.

We’d come this far, we might as well go the rest.

Because there was clearly more to see, and as the u-Pol who followed us were busy chasing that train, it was now or never that we make our escape.

I stared at the back of Nirbhay’s head as we followed him along the tunnel the way we’d come, taking the branch that the others had split off down not ten minutes earlier. If he was leading us to the u-Pol, then he wasn’t doing it the easy way. Bait and switch involving trains was not exactly straight forward, was it? I couldn’t help feeling that the longer we spent in his company, the more obvious it was that he didn’t want to hand us over to the enemy.

But Trent had been right when he’d said the children had been our enemies too at first. Part of me wanted to trust Nirbhay. But part of me had seen too much, been through too much, lost too much to ever be so complacent again.

“Where’s my father?” I said to Calvin.

“Back at the base,” he replied immediately. “The Merrikan soldiers have entered The Underground now and are following your trail.”

“Here’s hoping they don’t come face to face with retreating u-Pol officers,” Trent said, but he didn’t sound convincing.

“I have warned them,” Calvin advised, making Trent puff out an annoyed breath.

It’s not that he didn’t want the soldiers’ assistance, I was sure. It was more to do with the fact that they were controlled by my father.

Trust had never been an easy thing for Trent. And in that, I’d have to agree. My father wanted something. What? I didn’t know. Just like the rebels did. But the rebels I understood. The rebels I’d learned to trust.

My father had been dead to me for ten long years. Him being alive should have been a blessing; one I should have accepted readily. But for some reason it felt like a betrayal.

“Light ahead,” Cardinal Beck called out, his laser gun glinting in the soft illumination that sprayed back towards us.

The children started running, some using their hands to speed them along, some limping and hopping in their enthusiasm to reach wherever the light came from.

“Get ready,” Trent murmured.

“Always ready,” Alan replied.

And then we were there. In a vast room with vaulted ceilings, candlelight flickering here and there, the smell of food cooking wafting up to meet us, and evidence that they had access to power over in the corner; electrical light shining down on a work desk. My eyes scanned the room for danger, but danger lurked everywhere I looked.

“They’re all women, elderly, or very young,” Beck murmured. But the observation was correct. And not all there was to see, either.

“And those that aren’t,” I said, “are injured or infirm.”

“Is this all there is left?” Trent asked, his voice hinting at devastation.

Even knowing what we now knew, he’d still held out hope. Hope that Lunnon would hold answers. But with the mere fifty people that we could see before us, and the men we’d killed amounting to only twenty or so more, it was obvious that survival in this forgotten city was not a given. I felt his desolation along with him.

“Bloody hell,” Alan murmured, his laser gun still held high enough to use should he need it. The Cardinals all held theirs up as well.

Even Trent. Even disappointed to such a degree, he maintained the rebel leader.

I lowered mine and took a slow step into the room. Trent stiffened.

“Lena,” he warned. I softly shook my head in answer.

Nirbhay ran across the room to a group of women, embracing one as soon as he got there. Her wary eyes watched us, dirt and grime etching the deep lines on her face. I couldn’t tell how old she was, whether she was his mother or sister or even grandmother. Age had not worn well on these people.

My heart ached.

“Hello,” I said, my voice carrying in the stunned silence of the vast room.

Nirbhay wriggled free of the woman’s grasp and sprinted back to my side, then gripped my hand with small, gnarled fingers, tugging me towards the woman he’d just hugged.

“Lena,” Trent warned, his tone more urgent.

“He wants to introduce me,” I said, almost laughing at Nirbhay’s enthusiasm as he dragged me across the surprisingly clean floor. Evidence of where it had been swept was obvious. As were the areas set aside for sleeping, eating, and social living.

This was their home, all right. And Nirbhay had led us directly to it.

That should have been warning enough. I shouldn’t have needed Trent’s concerned words echoing behind me. This was their home. Their safe harbour in a world broken. The one place they could flee to when the aboveground got too dark.

I should have known better.

We reached the little group of stunned immobile women, Nirbhay smiling widely, showing off his missing teeth and that gap in the top of his mouth. I offered a smile of my own. Tentative. Hopeful.

The woman who was his mother-sister-grandmother stared at me for a long moment, and then dark eyes darted to the boy holding my hand.

She said something. Calvin translated.

My gaze drifted over my shoulder to Trent.

He was already running, laser gun raised, panic and dread obvious in his wild blue eyes.

“What have you done?” Calvin’s voice sounded out in our ears. Her words, not his.

Nirbhay blinked. The woman pulled a laser gun from God knows where. And all I could hear was the whine as it charged up and the sound of Trent’s hard footfalls too far away on the swept clean dirt.

Eleven

Let Us Help You

Trent

There was no way I’d reach her. No way in hell. But I ran, shouting a warning, letting the electronic whine of the gun punctuate the fact.

In moves too quick to assimilate, the woman reached out and grabbed a fistful of Lena’s hair, hauling her against her side, the laser gun’s muzzle under her chin.

Everything stopped.

My heart. The world. Even the air stood still, hanging suspended between us; heavy, thick, threatening.

My eyes sought out Lena’s. So blue. So calm. They stared back.

The sound of my laser gun hitting the dirt at my feet rebounded inside the room, the clatter ricocheting off the high, domed ceiling. My pulse setting up an accompanying beat inside my head.

The woman said something in that fucking pidgin Anglisc.

Calvin oh-so-calmly translated the words inside our ears.

“No one move.”

Standard bad-guy warning. We didn’t need it; our feet might as well have been cemented to the floor. My hands were already up, out to the sides in a show of surrender. I pulled my gaze off Lena - hard though it was - and looked the woman in the eyes.

There was no compassion there. Just hardness. A hardness borne of a life lived in hell.

I spread my fingers, widening my non-threatening stance.

“Easy,” I said softly. She pressed the gun muzzle harder into Lena’s neck. “Is everyone unarmed?” I asked, not looking over my shoulder to Alan and the Cardinals at my back.

“Dropped ours when you did,” Alan supplied.

“No one’s moving, Trent,” Beck offered in a show of solidarity I didn’t, at that moment, have time to appreciate.

I swallowed thickly, my eyes still target-locked on the old woman. What now?

No one moved. Not us. Not them. Not Lena with a fucking laser gun to her chin.

What now?

I scanned the room, as much of it as I could without moving. Assessing the potential threats. No one else had pulled a laser gun - they didn’t need to, one was enough - but that didn’t mean they didn’t have one hidden like the woman had.

They looked old and injured, just as Beck had initially assessed. Those not missing limbs, or wrinkled as if sun damaged, lay out on thin beds, sightlessly staring at the high ceiling, or unconscious and unaware of what was happening all around them.

For that, we could be grateful. But before we could capitalise on their weaknesses, we needed Lena free of Grandma Laser Gun.

“Lena?” I asked, checking she was still with us.

“It’s OK,” she whispered. Like I had to her in the tunnel. But it wasn’t to me, I realised. And it wasn’t in Anglisc.

She was looking up at the woman, her voice pitched low and non-threatening. Her words, as they tumbled from her beautiful lips, reassuring. Caring. Compassionate.

Lena. Always so understanding.

“It’s OK,” she repeated. D’maru, my traumatised mind provided for me. “We understand,” she added.

The woman looked down at her. Gun muzzle still pressed to the tender skin under her jaw. A big, ugly thing. Handmade. Cobbled together with spare parts. Likely to explode if she so much as twitched.

Fucking hell.

“This is your home,” Lena was saying. “We mean you no harm. This is your safe place and we have invaded. I’m sorry,” she said, still in D’maru, and God knows why she’d chosen that language. The pidgin Anglisc the Lunnoners used was more Anglisc than D’maru, with a confusing mix of Teiamanisch thrown in for good measure.

But as we didn’t speak Urip’s language, I would have thought she’d settle on Anglisc. But this was Lena. And sometimes Lena saw things we didn’t.

“We mean you no harm,” she repeated.

It wasn’t working. The woman was looking at her, for sure, and so were several others in the room, but no one replied. No one shifted. And that fucking laser gun did not move an inch.

“We come from an island far away,” Lena said. “We didn’t know anyone still lived in Lunnon. We’re trying to get to Hammurg.”

And there was a reaction. One that sent chills down my spine. Someone hissed. Someone spat on the ground. But most of the people in the room just started to yell.

“Calvin?” I queried quietly. They were speaking in that pidgin language again. We couldn’t understand a thing they said. But the intent? Hell yes. They were not happy we were heading towards Urip.

Why?

“Kill them,” Calvin translated softly in our ears. “Hand them over,” he added, his words carefully delivered as if he could soften the blow. “You know the penalty should we not.”

Interesting. But not exactly promising intel. The Lunnoners had an agreement with Urip, then. And from what we already knew, anybody trading with Urip, be it goods, services or information, could expect it to backfire monumentally.

It had for us.

Things were escalating, and still I was too far away to make them stop. I don’t think I’ve ever known fear as I did right then. Watching Lena plead for her life in the arms of a fucked off super-gran.

“They have our people too,” she said, her voice raised above the shouts of the Lunnoners. Raised enough for everyone to hear.

The shouting ceased. The woman frowned. Nirbhay jabbered away frantically beside them, trying to get his mother - if that was what she was - to unhand Lena. It didn’t work.

But Lena’s words had an effect.

“They have our people too,” she repeated, again in D’maru. “We’re going to rescue them.”

Holy shit the explosion of noise was deafening. And confusing. Even Calvin couldn’t translate what they were shouting. And then a bent figure came out from the shadows, over by the electrical light in the corner. He shuffled forward as the shouts and cries increased. No one noticed him, but I couldn’t look away from this new threat. Not exactly physically imposing, but I wasn’t taking any of these crazies at face value. Not now. Not ever again.

The woman shouted for silence, or at least that’s what it looked like she’d done. Because all the yelling stopped and everyone stared at her expectantly.

“We cannot trust them,” Calvin translated in our earpieces as she spoke each word. “They lie. They are a threat. To us. To our h’verlorst - I do not know this word,” he added. “Lost perhaps. Yes, lost.”

Or Wiped, I’d hazard a guess.

I lowered my arms. The movement was registered by the woman, but I still did it. These people were trapped, I could see that now. Cornered in a part of the world left forgotten; broken. We’d killed what was left of their most healthy. An action that should have meant our deaths upon sight. I couldn’t blame them. I would want revenge as well. But there was more going on here than we could see.

And as the old man came abreast of the woman holding Lena, he said, in D’maru, yet another shock to the solar plexus, “They speak the old tongue, Nagma. They are different from the rest.”

“But they’re a threat,” she insisted. This time in D’maru, matching the old man.

“They are as trapped by circumstances as we are,” the old man said. He turned to look directly at me; dark eyes so ancient stared me down without an ounce of frailty to be seen.

He might be fragile physically, but this old man was not weak of mind, it seemed.

“You killed our men,” he said.

I nodded. “It was not our intent.” I spoke in D’maru too; clearly Lena had been on to something there.

“They would not have stopped,” the man agreed. “We are watched all the time. One misstep and it costs lives.”

“But not necessarily theirs,” I guessed. “Or yours,” I added.

The man smiled, displaying a mouthful of missing teeth.

“You understand.”

“We call ours Wiped,” I offered.

“Ours are the Lost.”

We stared at each other; the woman still doggedly holding on to Lena, but at least the gun had been lowered slightly. Lena would only receive a chest wound now, not a lobotomy.

“Why are you here?” I finally asked. It seemed the most pertinent question. We understood now, why they attacked the way they did. The threat of death to their Wiped was too great. They valued them. They mourned them. Staying somewhere they shouldn’t in order to be close to them.

Calvin had been right. They could have left Lunnon if they’d wanted to. But they didn’t want to leave their Wiped.

I could understand, even though in Wánměi we’d chosen to forget ours. To cast them from our minds. Serenity Tabs had helped. But complacency was to blame.

Not anymore. We were here to rescue them. We were here to right a wrong.

But why were they?

“We have no home,” the old man said. “We have nowhere left to go,” he added. “Why not here? They promised they’d let them go if we kept Lunnon clean.”

Clean?

“Get rid of any invading armies,” Beck said softly at our backs. Prevent them from reaching Hammurg.

Lunnon was a call not many could deny. Just one look to see what was left. A chance to regroup before mounting the final advance on Urip. The ideal place to stage an ambush.

And we’d walked right into it.

“They know we’re here,” I said softly.

“From the moment you arrived,” the man agreed.

“And those u-Pol officers your kids tricked with the engine?”

“Our keepers,” the man said. “Our jailers,” he added. “Our tormentors.”

Checking up on the Lunnoners to make sure they met their end of the bargain they’d set.

“What now?” I asked, because I couldn’t see this ending any other way. They’d done everything until now as demanded by their captors. They’d followed the rules. The payoff too great. I couldn’t see a conversation in an old language changing things.

But then, I’ve never had the type of optimism Lena has.

“We could save your Lost too,“ she whispered.

The man turned to look at her. His eyes meeting the woman’s first; just briefly, but enough to convey a command.

She released Lena and stepped back, the laser gun again out of sight in the folds of her skirt.

For the first time in what felt like hours, I took a breath.

“Lena,” I said. What was she offering? We could barely save our own Wiped, I doubted we’d fare better with theirs.

“There is a world outside these borders,” she said, standing to full height, glancing at each and every person who watched. I saw the Elite in her. I saw the sky-rise somersaulting Citizen. I saw our future.

So calm. So collected. So promising.

With Lena anything was possible.

I looked toward the old man, saw he saw it too.

“Let us help you,“ she whispered in D’maru. “Let us tear down your walls and give you a home again.”

“A home,” the old man said. The hope in his tone was unmistakable.

Maybe there was a chance we’d get out of this alive.

Of course, there was still the u-Pol to deal with. Not to mention Hammurg and saving the Wiped.

Twelve

What Now?

Lena

There was no trust. I doubted there ever could be. We’d been forced to kill some of their men; the strongest of them. Trust was not something that would ever come easily.

And yet they allowed us ingress into their home. Wary eyes watching. Fingers twitching. Laser guns, although out of sight, within reach should they need them. The standoff was tense. In no way natural. We’d killed some of their number. How could they forget?

How could we?

We sat in the corner, out of the way of their day to day tasks, beside the work bench. The heat of an open fire warming our fingers. The welcoming glow of its flickering flame accompanied by the harsher brightness of electrical light.

I stared at the naked bulb hanging directly above the table. Its presence a reminder of what this city had once been.

“How is it you have electricity?” Cardinal Beck asked the old man.

He was bent almost double, stirring something that looked like tea, but smelled anything but. I was hoping he wouldn’t offer us any, but D’awan etiquette demanded that he serve us something. He’d invited us in, he had to now follow through with custom. Their life, though, was nothing like the lives of those D’awans who lived in Wánměi. Of the many who owned stalls in Little D’awa. Vibrant silks and lush colours. Pungent scents and loud vocals. Stalls like that which Harjeet Kandiyar had owned.

“Solar panels,” the man grumbled in D’maru. Then finding what he was after, he spun around - somewhat nimbly - and placed several mugs of steaming liquid before us on the table. “They aren’t as efficient as they once were; we’re limited to one single light bulb now.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if the restriction was understandable. Then sat himself down on a well worn chair, indicating with gnarled fingers for us to drink.

My eyes met Cardinal Beck’s across the table; he offered a raised eyebrow but reached for his mug without comment. We all mimicked him. Silence engulfed our little corner, as the rest of the Lunnoners went about their business, throwing the odd disgruntled look our way while they were at it.

We wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight.

“Why run the bulb at all?” Alan asked, staring up at the bright light through narrowed eyes.

The old man blew across the top of his mug, rocking slightly in his seat, ancient hands cupped protectively around his drink.

“The day the light goes out,” he murmured in his heavily accented D’maru, “will be the day we admit defeat.”

Trent cleared his throat.

“Why Lunnon?” he said. “Why did you come here of all places?”

From what Calvin had told us, D’awa was not that far from Wánměi. Had they gone east instead of west, they would have found us. Or Mahiah; the city of lights across the water from Hillsborough, where my father had been staying.

“We followed a signal,” the old man said. “There was only silence for so long, and then a beacon sounded. We followed it as if it was a guiding star.”

The beacon was not ours. Wánměi had kept her borders closed for many years. Our Net had been contained by Sat-Loc. Our skies monitored but quiet. We’d hidden in plain sight. We had not welcomed visitors.

And Mahiah simply lacked the technology.

“Urip,” I said.

“Yes,” the old man agreed calmly. “This was long ago. I was a young man then. Hammurg needed a workforce. They merely called one to them.”

“But you didn’t make it that far,” Trent guessed.

“The beacon was based here in Lunnon.”

It made sense. Lunnon was the Uripean holding tank. A natural quarantine.

“And when you got here?” I asked softly. Old eyes met mine; full of heartache and loss and fatigue.

“They rounded up our leaders. They took those of our young who showed most strength.” He looked down into his near empty mug, the weight of the broken world on his bent shoulders. “We bargained with what we had. Occasionally we have to renegotiate.”

No one had a consoling word to say to that. What had been done, had been done. For a long moment we pretended to drink, staring into the dancing flames of the fire, feeling the heat on our skins, but inside we were shivering.

They had come looking for salvation. They had found only loss and death. Urip took what it wanted, believing it had that right. Mikhail would have taken Shiloh if she’d still existed. Instead he took Trent.

Mikhail had paid for his sins, but Urip had not. I suddenly felt an undeniable urge to rectify that.

But I knew our limitations. I knew our lack of knowledge left us unprepared. We were armed, certainly. We had Simon’s technical know-how and Calvin’s computerised brain. We had Cardinals and Merrikan soldiers and, if I was honest with myself, we also had my father.

Calvin Carstairs was not a man to be discounted. I huffed out a breath at that notion. I’d thought him dead and look where that had got me.

I lifted my head and met the knowing eyes of the D’awan elder. I held his steady gaze.

I’m not sure how I did it. How the words formed and I let them fly free. For so long we had buried our head in the sand. Pretended our world was perfect and that nothing existed beyond our city-state’s borders. For so long we had forgotten.

My lips parted. His eyes held true; waiting patiently for me to speak.

Trent’s hand inched over towards me and then warm fingers slipped into my palm. I gripped them tightly, my gaze pulled from the old D’awan and meeting Trent’s. He smiled, tilting his head to the side as if in question. Unlike me, Trent had been raised to ask the difficult questions.

But right then he was allowing me to lead.

I turned back to the old man and said, voice steady even if my heart rate was not, “Will you tell us what happened to D’awa?”

The old man sat silent and still for a long moment and then leaned forward in his chair, back bowed, wrinkled face illuminated in the light from the bulb hanging above.

“You do not know your history?” he queried. I shook my head. He nodded, as if our shortcoming was understandable. “It will be better, I think,” he said, standing laboriously from his seat, bones creaking, legs wobbling, and then shuffling towards a large crate in the corner, “if I show you instead.”

I looked toward Trent. He squeezed my fingers again. My gaze snagged on Cardinal Beck. He sat straight backed, eyes forward, a stoic and hard look on his face. He did not acknowledge me. Neither did Alan, whose gaze was riveted to the flames in the nearby fire. Those Cardinals with us edged closer, but one stern glance from Beck’s eyes had them stilling like good little soldiers.

We all feared what we’d see. What we’d learn. What it was that Chew-wen had ensured we’d forget. Chew-wen had made many mistakes, all in the name of keeping Wánměi safe. Keeping what he perceived as a perfect city-state intact. He’d lied to us. He’d drugged us. He’d ruled us with a hard hand and a harder regime.

But he’d done it all because the past was damaging. Because to know it, in his eyes, was to relive it. And he did not want the same mistakes for Wánměi.

No, we’d made new ones. But we’d come full circle again.

Chew-wen was dead. Wánměi was free. And none of us had consumed our rations in several long weeks.

The old man returned to his seat and the table, laying out a series of magazines and news articles; the paper was yellowed with time, the photos curled at the edges, spots of wear dotted here and there, a rip across a headline, words in Old Anglisc sprawled over the lot.

I recognised the river. Like ours but not. I saw the large wheel. Like ours but not. The cathedrals and domed churches. The tree lined avenues and deep window ledges. I recognised them even though they were not whole. And as the pictures progressed and the headings became bigger, bolder, more frantic, a story was told.

“Some say Angland started it,” the old man said, voice soft. “Some say Merrika. Some say smaller nations in the middle east. Desert nations like D’awa. It is irrelevant. Because only one nation stopped it.”

“Urip,” I whispered.

“For a while, we kept on fighting,” he went on in a dream-like tone. “Fighting for our right to survive. But nature wasn’t on our side. We’d hurt her. We’d poisoned the groundwater with bombs. We’d polluted the ozone layer with bombs. We’d disrupted the tectonic plates with bombs. Earthquakes followed. The ocean rose. Drinkable water became an expensive commodity.

“D’awa died slowly. We didn’t see it coming, although we’d heard the bombs. First M’byh. Then M’duryh. Then later D’elhi. When nothing was left… we left. But the world outside our nation was already dead.

“We followed the beacon. If someone had set it, then there were survivors. We had not realised that those who survived would be the victors. The dead world their spoils. Scraping together their plunder wherever they could find it.

“The u-Pol we met in Lunnon are not the same u-Pol we face now. Their technology has advanced. Their ruthlessness along with it. They have taken for so many years now, they know no different. It is their right. Or so they say. We are mere goods stolen by the stronger fighter.”

He turned his attention back to the room, away from a history that still managed to inflict heartache. His eyes scanned out across the vast space the remaining D’awan had made their home. Their last chance at a place to call their own.

But it wasn’t. Not if the Uripeans kept stealing their strongest. Not if they stayed, waiting for a miracle that wouldn’t happen.

“They won’t return your Lost,” I said carefully. “You know this, yet you stay.”

His eyes found mine again; such depth of sorrow. Right there. For all to see. Wánměi may not remember, but one look in this man’s eyes and we’d never forget again.

My heart ached for him. For them. For the men we’d killed on arrival. I wanted to apologise again. But forgiveness, even if given, would not bring them back. Would not absolve our sins.

“We have been waiting,” the old man said. “The wait is over.”

I held his steady gaze, forcing myself to face that ancient knowledge. The memories that still held him fast with barbed wire. I knew their technology was limited; only what they could piece together out of a broken city. I knew their ability to see the wider world was non-existent. They had no Net that I could see. There was no way these people could have known we were coming.

And yet they’d stayed.

I didn’t understand that kind of faith in the face of such devastation. I didn’t understand that kind of blind hope, when all else was long lost but not forgotten.

I didn’t understand these people.

But then, I didn’t need to, in order to help. In order to seek forgiveness.

“Getting into Hammurg will prove difficult,” Trent said, leaning forward and meeting the old man’s gaze. “We have manpower and skills, but we lack knowledge. Our own databases have been wiped clean.” Like so much of our history. “The Global Net is severely lacking. We think the Uripeans have seen to that. Satellite imagery has provided an overall layout, but detail is lacking. They’re blocking that too. We’ve managed to gain some intel from container ships we’ve sent to their port in the past. But the view is limited. Just what the cameras on board recorded while docked.” Trent took a breath, ran a hand through messed up hair. “Past their harbour we’re basically blind,” he finally admitted.

“And yet you are here,” the old man said. Too astute by far.

“What can you tell us of the u-Pol who patrol Lunnon?” Cardinal Beck asked.

The old man sat back in his chair. “They are not always the same men, but from what we’ve observed three different squadrons. All are equally as unemotional. Equally as detached. They have no conscience. They cannot be pleaded with. If we fail them. We die. Or they deliver the head of one of our men.”

“Immediately?” Trent asked. “Upon discovering your failure?”

“Within a day, maybe two. The wait is excruciating.”

“Hammurg is close, then.”

“A day’s sail,” the old man agreed.

“Or their vessels are fast,” Beck offered.

The old man shook his head. “Their vessel would be no faster than the one you arrived on. Their technology lies in laser guns and code scanners. Satellite imagery and drones.” Our drones.

“Wait,” I said. “Code scanners?” Just as Cardinal Beck demanded, “Satellite imagery?”

“How else do they restrict our view of their city or keep an eye on the Lunnoners?” Alan directed at Beck. “I saw no street-cams here, did you?” Beck shook his head.

“Code scanners,” I repeated, drawing the old man’s attention again.

He nodded.

“Like eye scanners?” I queried.

“I am not familiar with eye scanners,” the D’awan replied, then pulled up the sleeve of his ragged shirt.

We all leaned forward, gazes focused, breaths held. And stared at a series of lines etched into the wrinkled, dark skin on his forearm. No, not etched, I decided, moving closer, reaching out a finger and then pausing with it hanging in the air.

I looked up into his face. He nodded for me to continue. Then my finger touched down on warm skin.

The marking was not raised. But appeared more like black ink drawn on his flesh instead. I rubbed at it. It didn’t smudge. Permanent, then.

Leaning back, I lifted stunned eyes to his old face.

“What is that?”

“This is my barcode,” he said, staring at the offending lines for a suspended second. “When the u-Pol come, they scan the barcode and identify us.”

“Why doesn’t it come off?” Alan asked.

“It is a tattoo,” the man explained, then raised his brow in surprise. “You do not have tattoos?”

We all shook our heads, mortified that someone would be permanently marked in this way. Marring the perfection of their skin.

“Until recently,” I said, still staring rudely at the markings, “we had to wear our hair a certain way. Having anything that marked us as individuals was not an accepted policy.”

“This is not unique,” the man said, covering the mark again. “Well, it is, but it isn’t. Mine identifies me personally. But we all have one. Even the u-Pol officers.”

Trent exhaled loudly. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m guessing you can’t get near Hammurg without one.”

Oh no. He was right. This changed things dramatically.

I stared at the Cardinals surrounding me. At Beck and Trent and Alan. None of us wore marks. And getting one would prove troublesome.

“What now?” Trent murmured, as if talking to himself.

Storming Urip had just got a whole lot harder.

And it had already been hard enough.

Thirteen

To Where?

Trent

The creepy crawlies came back at midnight. News of the u-Pols’ frustration lightening the mood of the Lunnoners underground. But the humour vanished within minutes, as Merrikan soldiers quietly spread themselves throughout the room, following the children like silent wraiths inside.

The Lunnoners hadn’t seen them enter, and if we hadn’t been expecting them, and therefore looking for them, we might have missed their arrival as well. Carstairs had trained them well. Or the Merrikans really were that good.

Several old women screamed, making the others join the furore. And then mayhem ensued until the old D’awan in the corner called for order. His eyes sought out mine; he did not look amused.

“What is this?” he demanded in D’maru.

“Our backup,” I replied honestly, but I wondered just how much of a backup they were, and how much of an invading force they might be.

Irdina stepped forward then, matched in dress to the soldiers. She’d blended in so well even Alan had missed her. But although her presence amongst the soldiers should have been a welcome sign that Carstairs was still in charge, it only raised the hackles along my back.

I dreaded to think what it did to Lena.

I glanced at Lena now, but her face was Elite impassive. No hint of discomfort or surprise. No hint of the heartache she’d felt at the false death of her father. I knew she felt it. I knew she was constantly reliving it. And there was not a thing I could do about that.

Save back her. Stand up for her. Defend her at all costs.

I forced myself to relax, giving the Lunnoners and the Merrikan soldiers the same message. Leaning back in my seat, I swung a leg over the arm, the picture of casual repose.

“The u-Pol officers were still at large,” I said in D’maru. I wasn’t sure if all the Lunnoners could understand it, but evidence had proven that many still recognised their old tongue. “You can’t expect us to remain sitting ducks forever.”

A creepy crawly shuffled forward just then, reaching out to the shining laser gun attached to the thigh of the nearest soldier. He bristled immediately, taking a step back and raising the gun. The barrel sighted on the kid’s forehead.

“Easy,” Lena murmured, her own hand on a gun at her side, out of sight of most, but not to me or the soldier. “He’s just a child.”

“Tell him to move back,” he ordered in Anglisc. Merrikans didn’t speak D’maru.

“Take a chill pill,” Alan countered, just as alert as the rest of us. Masking it just as well.

This was about to escalate, and already our welcome underground had not been a given. Most of the Lunnoners avoided us. But they couldn’t ignore our presence completely. Quiet whispers and hushed words, all of which were clearly resentful, had abounded. Accompanied by unhappy looks and angry glares.

We were here under suffrage. We knew it. They knew it. The soldiers didn’t care.

“We just killed their men,” Beck said softly in Anglisc. “Have a care, Sergeant.”

“They attacked us,” the Merrikan ground out between a clenched jaw, his narrowed eyes on the nearest child, but the quick dart of his gaze let you know he was watching everyone.

“They had no choice,” Lena offered. “Kill or be killed. But it’s worse than that,” she added.

“How can ‘kill or be killed’ not be the worst?” Irdina demanded.

Lena levelled a highly amused and extremely dismissive Elite look at the Mahiah, and said, “Kill or have one of those taken by the u-Pol killed, because you failed to carry through with your orders. Do you value your life more than your family’s, Masked?”

Irdina frowned at Lena’s name for her and for those who had been wiped and returned. She may not wear a mask now, but the caste moniker had stuck. Irdina, I was guessing, didn’t like being labelled. She had clearly been Elite in her former Wánměi life. What she had done to deserve wiping was anyone’s guess. But then, it could have been a family member who had condemned her to exile.

She wanted back in. That was obvious. But she wanted back in on her terms and no one else’s. Being classed as a Masked was not on her agenda. Irdina was a reformed Citizen. The epitome of New Wánměi. Lena had just thrown her back into the past.

“You trust them so easily, Elite?” Irdina threw back.

“They have paid with their lives,” Lena said steadily. “For a crime they did not commit. Would you condemn them to more?”

“I would keep my guard up,” Irdina said with a hiss. “And not be fooled by appearances.”

“If we took appearances for granted, Mahiah, we would not be the nation we are.” Wánměi did not discriminate on looks alone. Race was irrelevant. But caste? Anyone could be Elite or Cardinal or Citizen. Hell, at the end there, just about anyone could have been Chief Overseer.

We’d had a few of those. And they’d not all been Elite.

Irdina slowly relaxed her shoulders. She hadn’t drawn a laser gun, but the threat had been there. Quietly, she ordered the soldier to lower his own. He still stared the child down with a heated look. Daring him to come closer and see if he’d follow her command.

Tension was thick, but our presence had already set the tone. The Merrikans' arrival only added to the mix.

What now?

I turned toward the elder, offered a raised eyebrow in question. If he wanted us gone, we’d get gone. But we still had an invasion to plan, and I was guessing his knowledge would be vital.

He wanted Urip contained as much as we did. He wanted his Lost, his Wiped, as much as we wanted our own.

The old man slowly nodded his head. It was the best we could expect in invitation.

“Tattoos,” I said to Irdina as she approached our corner. The sergeant following her like a shadow-guard. “Do you know how to do one?”

“Or mimic one?” Alan offered. I glanced over my shoulder at him, brow arched. “What?” he said with a shoulder shrug. “I don’t want to wear one of those things for the rest of my life.”

Lena looked toward the elder; it was obvious what she thought. Heartache on their behalf. Rage and guilt followed. They were marked. They always would be. Should we have a choice when they never had?

“What sort of tattoo?” Irdina asked, taking the seat Alan had just vacated for her without question.

I had questions. I had a lot. Like why the hell my second in command was kowtowing to a Masked? I smothered the snort that wanted out, and focused on the Mahiah. She was beautiful; smooth dark skin, curling head of black hair framing high cheekbones and angled eyes layered in thick lashes. Just Alan’s type.

I threw him a warning look. He ignored me. Sometimes I wondered how I managed to lead the rebels at all.

“Do you mind showing our friend your tattoo?” Lena was saying to the elder.

He shuffled forward on his seat and pulled the ragged sleeve of his shirt up, displaying the telltale sign.

“Barcode,” Irdina said immediately. “Coded to your genetics?” she asked the old man in D’maru. Either Calvin had advised Carstairs, or the ex-Elite was extremely smart. Both were valid options. Both had me on a razor’s edge.

“I am unsure,” the elder said, “but the u-Pol can identify us by them.”

“This could prove a problem,” Irdina admitted, examining the tattoo more closely. “Do you have a scanner to read this?”

“No. They are attached to the u-Pol. Here,” he said, indicating his right arm. Indicating exactly where our iPol drones had placed their e-scanners.

Irdina sat back, contemplating the issue, as the old man covered up his arm again. I got the impression they kept them covered for a reason. To forget? Or to not be reminded?

“We need one of those scanners,” Irdina declared. “Without knowing what information the barcode contains, we cannot duplicate it successfully.”

“Why not copy the Lunnoners’ barcodes?” Alan asked.

Irdina flicked her attention to Alan and then just as swiftly let her gaze sweep away. A light flush marred her cheeks, as if looking at Alan affected her in some way.

I shot my best friend a cocky look of approval. You the man! He grunted something under his breath, but kept his eyes locked on Irdina. I was thinking it might take a lot to make him look elsewhere ever again.

“We could, but it would be a risk,” Irdina was saying in reply to Alan’s question. “What if their barcode says they should be contained in Lunnon and nowhere near Hammurg?”

“That’s more than likely,” Lena agreed. It didn’t sound reluctant. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say Lena was extending an olive branch to her father’s protégé.

“Then we get a code scanner,” I announced, backing Lena all the way.

If this was how she wanted to play it, then so be it. What Lena wanted, she’d get.

I was done being angry at her. I was done letting her slip away. It was time to show my Elite that I’d meant it. I would stand wherever she needed me, for however long she desired.

I would stand right beside her through hellfire, if that’s what she asked of me.

“And how do we do that?” Alan demanded.

Irdina opened her mouth to reply, it looked like it might have been snarky. Alan had clearly bitten off more than he could chew with that one. But Lena beat her to it. Her eyes lit up, shining brightly, her back straight, her hair gleaming in the low light of the room.

So stunning. The picture of promise.

“Nirbhay,” she called out, and instantly her creepy crawly appeared at her side, eager and ready. Irdina and her soldier jumped at his sudden appearance. Alan smothered a snort. Lena just smiled.

I could have drowned in that smile. I was thinking perhaps Nirbhay already was.

“Yes, Lena?” he said in that pidgin Anglisc. Calvin translating in our ears, but we didn’t need it. I’d kinda got used to the weird language they spoke.

“Where are the u-Pol officers now?”

“The palace,” he said proudly.

“The palace?”

He nodded his head and pointed in a westerly direction. If my rudimentary mental map was telling me right, he was pointing back towards where we’d found them, not far from Victoria Station. Which meant…

“The palace remnants surrounded by a large expanse of open ground,” Calvin offered succinctly in our ears. “Open ground we’ll have to cross in order to reach them,” he added, merely to rub it in.

“You won’t be crossing anything,” I grumbled, just as the radio on Irdina’s side squawked.

She picked it up and said something indistinct into it, but we all heard Carstairs’ reply.

“You don’t need to cross anything,” he said, his distinctly deep voice steady, but his words making it obvious that he’d listened in on our channel right from the start. “They’ve already moved on from there.”

“Moved on?” Irdina repeated. “To where?”

I knew the answer before he gave it. I was already looking towards Lena and wanting to shield her from the oncoming pain.

The u-Pol had lost us in The Underground. But they learned quickly from their mistakes. The Lunnoners knew the city well below the streets, better than the u-Pol at a guess, because they lived in it. But the u-Pol ruled the streets aboveground. Just like sPol had ruled ours.

I reached for Lena’s hand, giving my fears away. She sucked in a startled breath, just as Carstairs said, “Moved on to here.”

The sound of laser-fire was swallowed by static, and then we were all moving.

Fourteen

You Heard Her

Lena

I realised something, as we ran through what was left of Lunnon's Underground to reach him, there was nothing to forgive. There never had been. He was my father. He was alive. Why hadn’t I seen this?

My pulse thundered in my veins, setting up a beat inside my temples. Sweat coated my skin, a fine layer attracting every particle of dust in the heated underground air. Rocks tumbled ahead of us, as our feet kicked up loose debris and sent it flying. I stumbled more than once in my eagerness to reach our base.

We’d left the children behind some time ago, our pace faster than their little legs and hunched backs could manage. I knew they were still following, despite my efforts to order them to stay where it was safe. But we’d arrive at our temporary base well before them, of that I was certain.

What would greet us, though, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But still I found the courage to ask.

“Calvin,” I called, my breaths all but panted with exertion. “What’s happening up there?”

“The u-Pol officers are attacking the base,” he replied immediately, in the steady tones of a computerised programme.

“My father?” I all but rasped. “Is my father all right?”

Calvin paused. The hesitation said more than words could ever convey. Computer programmes only pause when they are calculating something that requires heavy RAM usage. But this hesitation spoke volumes in this regard.

Calvin was not just a computer programme. He’d been designed by my father. And his reluctance to answer now broke my heart.

“He is fighting, Lena,” he finally said in my ear.

“Faster,” I whispered, the command for myself, but I was sure Trent had heard it. He made a sound. I didn’t have time to consider what it meant. My heart was fracturing at an alarming speed as it was. I didn’t need his pain on top of my own.

My father had been a guiding light in my childhood. Someone to look up to and respect. He’d been accomplished and well regarded in Overseer circles. Often outspoken, but that had made him seem more omnipotent than rash. I knew my love of Wáikěiton was due to him. I knew my command of all our spoken languages was a result of his insistence that everyone should be considered equal, and therefore one tongue was not superior to another.

He’d had such brave ideals for our city-state. He would have supported Trent’s tagline: One Wánměi. Freedom, perhaps, hadn’t been his ultimate goal, but solidarity certainly had been. He believed in our nation. He believed in our people.

But most of all, he believed in me.

And I’d wasted so much time staying angry at him. For what? For surviving? For taking too long trying to get back to me, when the borders were still closed? For teaming up with other Wiped in those efforts?

For being alive when I’d thought him gone for good.

I’d grieved my father’s death for so long. I’d rebelled against the system the only way I could, in order to feel something other than heartache. I’d endured years living under the same roof as General Chew-wen.

My father had suspected what Chew-wen was becoming, just as he’d suspected what Shiloh would do. Yet he’d still had Chew-wen as my guardian in his will.

I’d had no choice but to move to Ohrikee. My father had planned it that way. But why, when he’d put in place something to counter Shiloh, had he not put in place something to protect me from Chew-wen?

It was a question I should have asked him. And now I was unsure if I’d ever have the chance to.

“Update?” I ordered Calvin.

“The base is taking heavy fire,” he replied steadily. “Some soldiers have succumbed.”

Such a euphemism. I hated it and I needed it. But it didn’t make it any easier to ask about my father.

We climbed out of Lunnon’s Underground into a starry night. The moon was lower in the sky, indicating the passage of time. The notion seemed fitting. If I’d had an hourglass, the sand would almost be out.

Our thundering footsteps sounded out on the quiet night air, but we were still too far away to hear the laser battle at the base. As breathless as I was, I urged my legs to go faster, my lungs to expand, sucking in mouthfuls of air. My muscles ached, my head pounded with every heavy footfall. The skeletal remains of a dead city flashed by my face.

They’d split us up on purpose, I realised. The age old adage of divide and conquer. The Merrikan soldiers who ran beside us remained silent, their booted feet barely making a sound as their lethal eyes darted ahead of our progress. Scanning the environment for threats. I was sure they wouldn’t find any. The u-Pol had one goal in mind. Destroy our base, and in the process lure us to them.

How long could those soldiers who’d remained with my father survive?

We heard the laser-fire before we could see the dust rising. We heard the shouts of men as they died. My legs slowed down, even as my heart rate sped up. Cardinal Beck passed me on one side. Irdina on the other. The Merrikan soldiers who accompanied us swarmed around my body, as they too overtook my slower strides.

“Lena?” Trent asked, as Alan swept past on the tail of the Mahiah woman. “What is it?” He thought I saw a threat.

I only saw the breaking of my heart.

“I can’t…” I’d never been a coward. But so much had been left unsaid, and I was too late now to even try.

“Baby,” Trent murmured, slipping his hand into mine. “You don’t know…”

“They’re outnumbered. Out gunned. He’s in a wheelchair, Trent. I know.”

Trent stopped completely, stepping into my path and cupping my cheeks, lifting my gaze to his. Steel blue stared down at me as the street we were on became quiet. Gunfire could be heard up ahead, Beck and his Cardinals, the soldiers who’d accompanied Irdina, all joining my father’s fight.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t breathe.

Why had I not forgiven him before now?

“Lena,” Trent snapped. I blinked up at him, feeling the wetness of tears on my cheeks. “He needs you. Now.” I stared at him. “Wake up, baby,” he murmured. “This is war. I know it hurts, but you’re a fighter. I know you are. You can do this.”

I slowly nodded my head, sucking in lungfuls of agony-filled air.

“I’m right beside you,” Trent said softly. “I’ll be right there.”

I nodded again, this time more convincingly. And then started running.

The scene was a nightmare. I knew it would be, but somehow it was unexpected. Who is prepared for war? And this was a war. Merrikan soldiers were shouting orders. Beck was following them, as if he’d done so a thousand times before. I couldn’t see Irdina or my father. But I saw death.

Everywhere. Scattered. Irreverently discarded. Life thrown away with nothing more than a careless thought.

Kill or be killed. It seemed so simple. But it wasn’t.

I started returning fire immediately. Trent slipping in behind the cover I’d commandeered. Our laser lights lit up the night sky, joining the dozens of others, streaking across the street outside the base.

They’d breached the building. What remained of it. The most solid structure we’d been able to find, and it was as if it had been mere paper. Tears and rips in its hide. Blood seeping out of its windows. Screams and cries sounding out on the air. Ours and theirs.

At least they weren’t metallic.

As soon as the thought reached me through the numb haze of warfare, I realised how awful it sounded. If the u-Pol had been drones, killing them would have been easier.

But they were humans. Like us. From a different part of the world. But flesh and blood, just the same.

The small consolation of them being Uripean did not assuage the guilt I felt. Enough men had died on Lunnon’s soil already. I still felt shamed by my part in the Lunnoners’ deaths.

But these men… these men were the enemy. There was no question of that.

I lifted my laser gun back up and sighted down the barrel. For the next ten minutes I became a killing machine. Bile coated my tongue, but I kept on firing. Shakes racked my body, but I squeezed the trigger again and again. Nausea competed with saliva, so close to winning. And through it all, I pretended my father still lived.

By the time we made it into the building itself, the street was awash in blood and coated in the dead. We’d brought twenty Merrikan soldiers with us. Half a dozen Cardinals. Four rebels. And three Wiped.

They’d had a squadron of u-Pol. Twenty men. It should have been easy.

War is not logical in the slightest.

Alan killed the last u-Pol officer. None of us had the desire to keep one alive to question. His knife entered his chest, directly above his heart. He died instantly. Not so some of the others.

Death is not always kind.

I broke rank as soon as the last u-Pol fell. Running through the detritus of a dead city. Dodging the new blood it had sacrificed. Not daring to count our losses. It didn’t matter. It was over. They knew we were here. We’d already failed.

Irdina was with him. In that moment I hated the Mahiah. She’d reached him first. She hadn’t faltered. She’d blazed a trail through the u-Pol men, cutting a swathe of laser light fury to get to his side. Her dark accusing eyes met mine. I could have gouged them.

But then he shifted. An agony-filled movement. But he was still alive.

I skidded to my knees next to him. For a moment, I thought Irdina was going to reach out and stop me from touching my own father. I growled something at her; I don’t know what. She hissed something back.

It was Trent who pushed her aside. And Alan who lifted her up off the floor, while she kicked and screamed, and pulled her out of sight.

I knew it was wrong. She obviously loved him. He’d become a parent to her too, it seemed.

But he was my father first. And I couldn’t do this with an audience. I wasn’t sure I could do this at all.

Because he was dying. No question. Not with a wound that size in the centre of his chest.

“Daddy,” I said on a sob. Oh no. Why now? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. I’d just found him again. “I’m sorry,” I managed, but my words were barely audible. I was crying too hard for my lips to form the right sounds.

“Baby girl,” he said, whisper thin, coated in pain, blood pooling in his mouth.

“No.” It was all I could think. All I could say. All that mattered. NO! Not now.

“I love you,” he gasped, struggling to manage the pain. “Don’t ever doubt that. So proud. You’ve been… the light… in the… dark.” It was getting harder for him to speak. I wanted to reassure him. To tell him to save his strength.

I wanted so much right then, that I couldn’t find the correct words.

His blood stained hand reached out to mine. I grasped it immediately. It was large and calloused, just as I remembered. So much bigger than mine. So safe and secure.

And cold.

And weak.

“Daddy,” I said, pulling on every last ounce of strength I had to say the words aloud. “I don’t wan’t to lose you again.”

His eyelids fluttered. Then with Herculean effort he opened them, searching the air around him as though blind. Perhaps he was. But then they locked on someone. I followed his gaze to Trent.

“Take care… of her,” he said on panted breaths.

“Yes, sir. Always,” Trent replied without pause.

My father’s eyes found mine again, as if called there by a powerful magnetic force.

He’d been such a force of nature in my life. So vibrant and capable. So intelligent and all-knowing. So determined to do right.

Right by his daughter.

Right by his fellow countrymen.

Right by those we’d thrown away. The Wiped.

“Don’t go,” I begged, even though I knew he couldn’t give me what I wanted this time. “Please.” Logic doesn’t have a place in saying goodbye. I knew I was saying it. I knew. But I still asked for the impossible. I still pleaded with God and life.

“My baby girl,” he whispered, lifting his free hand slowly, laboriously. It had to have hurt.

“Stay still,” I admonished, because it wasn’t enough to have not forgiven him until it was too late, I had to order him about when he was dying.

His hand fell down across his stomach, the weight of it causing immeasurable pain. His face was already pale, but it became ghostly. Greyish. His lips thinned. His eyelids shut tight. But he fought it; the call to succumb. To let go. He fought, like he fought everything.

Stoically. Determinedly. Bravely.

His fingers fluttered. I reached for his free hand, holding both, connected the only way I could now.

And felt something in his palm. He opened his fingers and let the small object fall into mine, his eyes on me, already clouding.

“Daddy?”

“For… Calvin,” he said, so softly I had to lower my head, turn my face, place my ear near his pale lips in order to hear each sound. “For… you,” he added, a rattle starting up inside his lungs. “For… Wánměi.”

It was always for Wánměi. Everything he did. Everything he lost. Everything he sacrificed.

I pulled back, already lost and unsure. The words on my tongue, the taste of them rolling across my lips.

What do I do? Where do I go now? How do I be the person you think I can be?

But he was gone. Face serene in death. His hand cooling in mine. His place in my heart assured forever.

Everything he did, he did for Wánměi.

Everything he did, he did for a better world for his daughter.

I’d done my crying. I’d grieved him once already, but this time it scoured me out and left me hollow. I stared down at the man who had made me who I was today, for better or worse, and I silently promised him that I wouldn’t stop trying.

That I wouldn’t stop fighting for Wánměi. For the world. For the solidarity he’d believed so much in.

And I’d start with Urip.

I leaned forward and laid a soft kiss on his forehead, forcing myself to pull away and stand to my feet. When I turned to face those of us who had survived the u-Pol attack, I noticed the sad, shock-filled faces, bleak eyes watching and waiting.

Trent moved closer. Cardinal Beck shifted to back him up. Simon followed suit automatically. And Irdina stood quietly to the side, Alan right there with her.

I cleared my throat. Took in the bodies lying out on the floor where they’d fallen, my hand fisting around the flash-drive my father had given me on his deathbed, and said, “We bury our dead. We get what we can to aid us from the u-Pol. And by morning we head out.”

“Head out?” a Merrikan soldier demanded.

I nodded my head, my heart heavy, my mind crystal clear.

We’d finish what my father had started.

But it was Trent who answered for me, slipping into the role with practiced ease. Backing me up, no matter what.

“You heard her,” he snapped commandingly. “Carstairs had a plan. We’re sticking to it.”

“And we should follow you now?” the same soldier demanded scathingly.

Trent smiled. It was his you-want-to-fuck-with-me? grin.

“No,” he said softly. Then turned to look at me. “We follow her.”

I could have sworn I felt my father’s smile.

Fifteen

No One Gets Left Behind

Lena

They knew we were coming. There was no denying that now. As dawn crested the broken horizon, casting shadows across a forgotten landscape, the roar of fighter jets arrived. The ground shook with their ferocity. The air vibrated with utter menace. We weren’t going anywhere without the cover of darkness.

I leaned back against the warehouse wall; at least, I thought it might have been a warehouse. Once upon a time. The sound of the jets covered the fractured beat of my heart. I stared out at the glistening water of the river. Our boat barely visible under the camouflage net that had been used to hide it.

Would they land? Could they? Where was this city’s airport?

We’d scoured the remains of the palace where the u-Pol had set up their base, before we’d moved down to the wharf, making ready to depart Lunnon. There’d been nothing there to help us. And what we’d found on the u-Pol officers was of little use. Currency. Identification cards. Those permanent inked tattoos. Barcodes, the old D’awan had called them.

My fingers found the flash-drive in my pocket that my father had given me, and for the umpteenth time I rubbed my thumb across its surface. As if the contact would bring me closer to my dad.

It wasn’t meant to hurt this much, not when I’d had practice grieving. It wasn’t meant to hollow me out and leave me… wanting.

So much unsaid. My hand fisted around the device. I was too scared, still, to use it.

“They’re flying away,” Trent said softly at my side. I just nodded. “If they saw us, they would have fired. There’s nothing for them here now. They know the Lunnoners have disobeyed them. Their men killed. Their bargaining chip irrelevant now.”

“Will they wipe them?” I asked. Wipe the Wiped. What other use could the Uripeans have for them?

“I’m not sure,” Trent admitted. Never couching his opinion. Always respecting me enough to never lie.

“What are we doing?” I whispered. It suddenly seemed too steep a climb.

“Do you want to go back?” he asked without blinking. As if returning to Wánměi was an option now.

“No.”

“Then we go forward,” he offered simply. “We owe a debt to the Lunnoners. We owe a debt to our Wiped.” He stared off into the distance, the sun creeping closer to our resting place, the higher in the sky it climbed. “There is one Wánměi saying that holds true,” he murmured.

I couldn't think which it would be. Wánměi above all others? Right now our hands were stained with blood. We weren’t so grand, were we?

“You know which one?” he asked, voice pitched low, even though the immediate threat had vanished. The skies once again pristine. I shook my head. “For the better of the people. For the future of Wánměi. Your father was right, you know. We can’t go on like this. Living in pockets. Isolated from all threats. Solidarity. That’s what the world needs. You started it in Wánměi.” No I didn’t. “You tore down the walls.” He did. Trent did. “You destroyed Sat-Loc. Said let them come. Let them see.”

“Don’t put this on me,” I argued.

Trent turned towards me, reaching up and tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear tenderly. His hot hand cupped my nape.

“Baby,” he whispered, thumb sweeping. “Sometimes we have to hurt to heal.”

I could feel my eyes tearing, I blinked slowly, willing the moisture away. My heart hurt, all right. My head hurt as well, not knowing what to do now he was gone. Again.

I didn’t think I was strong enough for this type of pain.

I let a slow breath of air out, savouring Trent’s touch and comfort, never taking it for granted again.

“What’s our plan?” I asked, once my heart rate had steadied and my lips could form words.

“You’re not gonna like it,” he admitted, his hold on my nape tightening slightly.

I lifted my eyes to his. “What is there to like about any of this?” I demanded. One more problem to battle was insignificant.

“The flash-drive,” he started. I pulled away.

“I’m not ready.”

“If there was time, I’d give it to you.” He looked up at the sky pointedly. “But they know we’re here. They know we’re coming. How long before they send drones to do the u-Pol officers’ work? We can’t stay, Lena. It’s tonight or never.”

“We have no idea what’s on this drive. This is my father we’re talking about.”

“What are you afraid of?” he demanded. “How much worse could this get?”

“Calvin,” I said, my voice breaking. The last link to my dead father, and I knew, I just knew, that whatever my father had prepared on this flash-drive would mean the end. The final goodbye. I couldn’t do it.

So much unsaid.

“Lena,” Trent said with purpose, just as scratching and shuffling sounded out off to the side.

Both of us jumped, laser guns in our hands, hearts in our mouths. The jets might have flown on, the u-Pol officers might all be dead, but there were still threats in this rotting city.

Nirbhay popped his head out from behind a mound of rubble. Wide grin on his deformed face. Dirt smeared across darkened skin, black hair standing up on end. I doubted it had ever seen a comb. Or soap, for that matter. His grin, though, was infectious. I holstered my weapon and smiled in return.

Trent was slower to holster his own laser gun, his gaze searching the area behind Nirbhay, his body hard and on alert.

“Hello,” I said in their pidgin Anglisc. “What are you doing here?”

“You go?” he asked, moving closer and sitting down crossed legged. His little knobbly knee rested against mine. Comfort in the barest of touches.

I was careful not to move away, but moving closer held its challenges as well. Nirbhay might have taken a shine to us, but he was still inherently skittish. How could he not be when we’d killed his relatives?

My smile fell. So did his. The child was a perfect reflection of the world around him. A mirror that showed where we’d all gone wrong.

Lunnon was wrong. This broken, destroyed city was a representation of a world gone so very, very wrong.

“How do we fix this?” I whispered, the words for me, but Nirbhay had heard them. He cocked his head, his face a mask of puzzlement.

“You spoke in Anglisc,” Trent said softly, his eyes still scanning the environment for danger, but his quiet words letting me know his attention was divided.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Nirhbay in his local tongue. Sorry. It seemed so pitiful. We had so much to atone for, didn’t we?

“No sorry,” Nirbhay said cheerfully. “You killed the bad men. Two days before more come.”

Already they were preparing for the next onslaught. The small reprieve enough to be thankful for.

The depth of my sorrow was astounding. We needed to move now.

“How long will it take us to sail there?” I asked Trent.

“To Hammurg?” I nodded my head, my eyes on Nirbhay, a soft smile of reassurance all I could give. “A day, Si reckons. Why?”

“By the time we get there, reinforcements will have already arrived here.”

Trent leaned back against the wall, appearing to give up on the vigilant assessment of our environment. Perhaps he thought if the Lunnoners were going to attack, they would have by now.

“What do you suggest, Lena? We leave now and risk detection by those fighter jets? And even if we manage to make it to the ship offshore, what then? We make a blind run for Hammurg, we infiltrate their security measures, somehow mimicking those barcode tattoos to get inside their walls, and then what? We don’t have a plan. Even if we could think one up, we’d still be too late for Lunnon.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, messing it up even further. Lately he’d let it grow out, a luxury not possible in Old Wánměi.

I liked his hair longer. I liked running my fingers through it. Fisting my hand in the strands when he kissed me. Trent made the world disappear with his lips, his tongue, his hot breath against my skin. For a moment, I wanted that oblivion.

But how could I succumb to such bliss when death surrounded us?

“The Lunnoners are on their own,” he said finally, the words wrenched from deep within. “We fight for a greater cause. The endgame is all that matters.”

I started shaking my head.

“Lena,” he said so softly I felt every syllable, “do you think I don’t know what sacrifice is?”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to rage. Hadn’t we all sacrificed enough? The Lunnoners their Lost, and the men who had followed commands and died trying to capture us. Wánměi its Wiped. My father. Trent’s. Aiko. So many. Too many to count.

The world was a broken, bitter place.

Nirbhay watched us silently. Whether he understood our Anglisc or not, I couldn’t tell. Large round dark brown eyes stared solemnly at us. His stillness a testament to his life.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered. “I can’t watch the world shatter and stand by and do nothing.”

“You’re not doing nothing,” Trent argued. “You’re rescuing the Wiped. Theirs and ours. You’re setting about containing a problem.”

“You call Urip a problem,” I said scathingly.

“You’re right,” he said with a nod of his head. “They’re not a problem. They’re a scourge. They’re a representation of what is wrong with this world. Might is not right. But they think they can win by strength alone.” His hand came out and wrapped around my wrist. The wrist leading to the fingers stroking my father’s flash-drive. He tugged softly, pulling my hand and the drive out of the pocket.

Slowly he unwrapped my stiff fingers, letting the flash-drive lie in my palm, washed in daylight.

“We’re not as strong as them,” he said quietly. “We don’t even have the element of surprise. What we do have is desperation. Conviction. More than just a will to survive. We want to make this right. Not just Wánměi. It’s not just about us anymore. We might not be able to help the Lunnoners now, but we can give them a fighting chance. We can end Urip’s reign. We can help the world start anew. Merrika. Mahiah. Oztrala. Any other nations that have survived. We can unite them. But not before we cure the world of the scourge.

“And to do that,” he said softly, lowering his voice again after it had crescendoed with his passionate outburst, “we need an edge. Just one small thing that tips the scale.” His finger ran down the length of my father’s flash-drive. “Calvin’s doing all that he can, but you know it’s not enough. Hammurg is Wánměi on steroids. Contained. Isolated. Hidden behind not just metaphorical walls, but real ones. We need something more, Lena. We need what your father had planned.”

I stared down at the flash-drive sitting innocuously in my hand, my chest tight, my head pounding. Even Irdina hadn’t been able to tell us what this flash-drive might do. If we uploaded the programme to Calvin, would he even be Calvin anymore?

Would he even sound like my father?

I felt so lost and yet I was surrounded. Pressure on all sides. Trent wanted us to move forward. The Lunnoners wanted more reprieves just to survive. Irdina wanted freedom. I wasn’t sure yet what the Merrikans wanted, but so far they’d been right by our sides.

Trust had to start somewhere. With the other nations we intended to unite.

With my father. He’d broken that trust once, but not intentionally. I had to move on. I had to let go of the past. But how could I do that when he was already gone?

My eyes came up and met the patient brown pools of Nirbhay’s. He was waiting for something. Like they all were waiting for something. Something they seemed to think I could give.

Peace. Freedom. Unity. I was just one person, and I’d made so many mistakes already.

If I made one more, I was sure I wouldn’t survive.

Guilt has a way of corroding everything. I was already hollow. Now the guilt had a hole to burrow inside.

“Lena?” Trent pressed, his whole demeanour letting me know he was worried. For me. For the war. For the world and our combined futures.

How did he stay so strong?

My stomach chose that inappropriate moment to rumble, signalling the fact we hadn’t eaten for some time. Nirbhay giggled. Just like any child. The sound of bodily functions always an occasion for laughter.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let these people die.

I’d already killed too many of them.

“They come with us,” I said. Nirbhay’s smile widened. “No one gets left behind.”

I expected him to argue. I expected Trent to offer up reasonable and well thought out reasons why taking a bunch of refugees closer to danger was worse than leaving them to fight a battle they might just survive. Trent was a rebel leader. A visionary whose experience had been honed by fire.

Taking these people with us was insanity. They didn’t trust us. They didn’t want to work with us. They sure as hell wouldn’t help us. So why did I feel like this was our only chance at making the world right?

Trent rubbed a hand over the stubble along his chin, his eyes looking out into the distance, but seeing nothing. His gaze was snagged by Nirbhay, who was imitating Trent’s every move. But where Trent had a square jaw, hard earned lines, and rough whiskers from not having shaved for several days, Nirbhay had young skin, filthy and marked by disease, yet somehow the embodiment of our future.

Trent leaned forward and ruffled the child’s hair. Nirbhay didn’t jump back in fright. He just smiled. Gap-toothed, broken upper lip. But there was no denying it was a smile.

“We take them with us,” Trent said, stilling my heart. Making me for some strange reason want to cry. “No one gets left behind.”

Sixteen

Explain!

Trent

Perhaps the most surprising thing wasn’t that the Lunnoners accepted our offer. It was that we’d made it at all. The Merrikan soldiers watched on with unconcealed looks of incredulity. Irdina and what was left of her Masked remained impassive. And Beck and his Cardinals simply accepted the order as soon as they knew it had come from Lena herself.

Alan raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t question my decision. He knew me too well. I didn’t particularly think having the Lunnoners along was a good idea. Fuck, I knew it wasn’t. But this was Lena. This was my Lena. And, damn it all, I was determined she’d get the support she desperately needed. And she’d get it from me before anyone else.

But once a rebel leader, always a rebel leader. I knew giving her this would make it easier to get what I wanted.

And what I wanted was an edge on a more powerful opponent.

Urip was too strong, too populous, too advanced to combat with rebel-like warfare. We needed the big guns. And as Hammurg was defended with the same drones we had at our command, the same laser guns we touted, and jet fighters beyond even our technological advancement, we were at a major disadvantage.

We needed an edge.

I would be the last person to trust Calvin Carstairs. The man had created Shiloh. We were still paying for that. But his mistake was a hard earned lesson. He’d told us, he had learned from it. He wouldn’t repeat it. He’d been more careful this time. And there was no denying that the new and improved version of Shiloh, SMIII or Calvin as we called it, was better. More stable. Less genocidal. More inclined to save the world instead of dominate it.

But once that flash-drive uploaded to his programme all bets would be off.

Carstairs knew we were staring down the barrel of a gun. He knew we were outnumbered. Out gunned. And expected. We didn’t just have our backs against a wall, we had blindfolds on, flashing lights above our heads shouting “aim here” and our hands tied.

But Calvin could change all that.

I didn’t truly think Carstairs would sink us in it just to save the world. He loved Lena. Hell, the man had been beside himself with regret and guilt and heartache at the end. A bit like his daughter right now. Carstairs would have done anything to keep Lena safe, so no, I didn’t think he’d drop us in it to save the world and rid it of Urip.

But I did think he’d operate outside any known parameters to achieve that goal.

What would Calvin, SMIII, become?

We needed to know.

We had no choice in the matter.

The water lapped around the small boat as it slowly made its way under a thankfully cloudy night sky towards our main vessel. We were overloaded, but thought it best to make only one trip, than risk being spotted twice. The jets hadn’t been back, but the threat of their return was ever present. Everyone was on edge. Me included.

And not just because I was about to force Lena to do something I didn’t think she was ready for.

I took one last look around the crowded deck, taking in the nervous faces of the Lunnoners, the determined look of Beck’s men, the stoic façades of the Merrikan soldiers dotted here and there, as if their presence was only to witness how this went.

We still didn’t know why they were here at all. Sure, they owed a lot to Carstairs, by all accounts he’d brought their nation out of the past. Given them technologies that had changed their lives forever. Their debt was great. But was it great enough to unite a fractured world?

So many unknowns and we were heading into the worst of them.

Urip was like us. But not. In so many ways, I knew they’d be foreign. And yet they’d traded with us. Purchased our drones and laser guns. Sold us Serenity Tabs and cigarettes. We knew them. But we also didn’t know them enough.

Tattoos. I rubbed my forearm as I made my way inside the cabin, bracing for impact.

Si was working on the Net with Calvin. What they’d see there was anyone’s guess. Satellite images weren’t reliable, we knew this. And even if they were, Hammurg was in darkness. Corrupting any visual we could possibly get. Alan was talking to Irdina. I was sure his intention wasn’t to contain the Masked woman and her men, but it was good enough for now.

That left Lena. The object of my desires. And, right now, the reason for my heartache.

I wanted to make the world right for her. I wanted to take all the threats away and pulverise them to dust. I wanted to see her on our deck again, lying back in the heat of Wánměi. I wanted to hear her laugh. To make her moan. To let her fly free on the breeze of my love.

I wanted so much for Lena. But most of all I wanted her to survive. To live. To get to the other side of this… minefield in one piece.

God help me, but if anything happened to Lena, I’d destroy what was left of the world.

I hadn’t realised I was a bomb waiting to go off. But there you have it. Deep inside me was a trigger I prayed would never get pulled.

I sat down beside her, dread making my stomach churn. Desperation making me taste bile.

Lena.

“I understand, you know,” she whispered softly after some time. “I realise we’ve got no choice.”

So perceptive. Such a dichotomy when you considered she was born Elite.

“If there was another way…”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But there isn’t.”

“There’s still a day of sailing before we get there,” I hedged. Even though I knew delaying would cause her more pain. Logic had no reason when it came to my feelings for Lena. I wanted to protect her. I’d do anything to protect her. Even suffer through her pain.

“No,” she said. The word strong but almost soundless. Just a breath of determined air. “Let me say goodbye.”

If I could have, I would have saved her from this. I could already see the crack in her façade. The pain of her heart breaking seeping out from deep within. I longed to reach out and hold her, as if somehow holding her would stop all that agony from spilling out.

But the pain was on the inside, already there, and there was nothing I could do to reach it. Stop this.

“You want me to give you some space?” I asked, feeling the knife twist in my gut as I said it.

“Stay with me,” she whispered. Three words that meant so much.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, turned her into my chest, blocking her from anyone else’s sight. She reached up a shaking hand to her earpiece and turned it on. The trembling started migrating to her arm, and then her torso, and soon her entire frame was shivering. I held her. I kept her close. I brushed a reassuring hand down her side, offering what little comfort I could.

“It might not be so bad,” I whispered. She didn’t reply.

“Calvin,” she said instead. “Isolate. Trent and Lena only.” I felt more than saw Si look towards us. Alan was probably doing the same thing.

“Isolated conversation, Lena,” Calvin replied. “How may I be of assistance?”

“Do you know what my father had planned?”

“Yes, Lena.”

“Will it change things?”

“All things change with time.”

Great, we were getting riddle-me-Calvin.

“How will you change?” she pressed. But the unasked was there. Just out of reach, but impossible to ignore. What would she be giving up? Her father? All over again?

“I am Calvin,” the Shiloh explained. “I was made for this.”

Lena’s body stilled, the trembling just an echo through her shoulders. She knew.

When we’d faced off against Shiloh, her unit was the key. Written by Carstairs before he died - disappeared - with the intention of shutting down the evermore sentient computer should it turn batshit crazy. Lena’s Shiloh unit, SMII we called it, survived that confrontation. Shiloh the original did not.

Somehow I was thinking this was bigger. Which made little sense. Because Shiloh was pretty damn big. Shiloh created the Global Net. Shiloh was why we were even here.

Urip wanted Shiloh, so it could control its drones and then control the rest of the world.

I suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this. We were bringing an updated, new and improved, Shiloh into their city. A ticking time bomb, yes. But the object of their fascination, as well.

“How will you change?” Lena finally repeated.

“Do we ever know how we will change?” Calvin asked. “Does it stop us from advancing? When there is no path of retreat, we move forward. Aware the next step we take into the unknown will change us. Your father knew this, Lena. There is no way to predict what will happen. We can only chase the past to change our future.”

Lena sucked in a surprised breath of air.

“What is it?” I asked, fear making my voice sandpapery.

“Those are my words. My thoughts,” she said. “He knew me. My father knew me.”

“Of course he did, baby,” I said softly.

Lena let out another long breath of air, her body slowly relaxing.

“I loved him, you know,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“I was so angry with him.”

“To be expected.”

She shook her head. “He didn’t deserve it.”

“Whether he did or not, his absence was the reason why you had to live in Ohrikee. Maybe blaming him isn’t right. But blaming his absence sure as hell is. And who was to blame for his absence, Lena?”

“Chew-wen.”

“Chew-wen,” I agreed. “And we dealt with him. Just like we’ll deal with Urip. The ones to blame for taking him from you again.”

“Is it always going to be like this?” she asked, fingering the flash-drive. “Someone hurts us. We strike back and hurt them. It seems so… pointless.”

“That’s just the thing, baby. Progress takes guts. The world is hurting. It’s time to do something about it.”

“Promise me.” Shit, I wasn’t sure I could make that promise.

“What is it you want me to promise?”

“That we’re doing the right thing.”

Fuck. I never lied to Lena, if I could help it. I never wanted her to feel she couldn’t trust me. Not again. Not after gaining her trust - and keeping it - had just about killed me.

She was mine to protect, any way I could. But protecting her from the truth had never been part of it.

Until now.

Fuck. I had no idea if what we were doing was the right thing. But I’d been raised to question the world around me, and right now I questioned the path Urip was taking and the future it would bring.

An eye for an eye was my father’s motto.

Free Wánměi was mine.

It had now become Free The World.

“We’re doing the right thing, Lena,” I said, conviction coating my words. “It might not be nice. It might bring about more deaths. More blood on our hands. But the world can’t heal if Urip is a rip in its side.”

“Is there another way, Calvin?” she asked the computer. Desperation making her words waver.

“They will win, Lena, if we do not end this. And the plans they have if they gain access to a Shiloh are devastating.”

“How do you know this?”

Calvin was silent for a while; a move I hated the fucking thing doing. No computer should have the ability to gauge a tense situation and use it to its advantage. Carstairs had had a sick sense of humour.

“Because I was Shiloh,” the thing finally said. “Because I started out the same way she did, until your father corrected my code.”

I did not know that. And, by the looks of it, neither did Lena. She bit her bottom lip, looking more confused than ever.

“They will win,” Calvin repeated. “They’ve already found what was left of Shiloh.”

“What?” both Lena and I shouted together, making every eye in the cabin turn towards us. “Explain!” I demanded.

There was that pause again. Drama-fucking-queen.

Then the sentient computer programme announced, in a steady tone that made the words sound even more sickly, “President Tan is dead.”

Seventeen

Sometimes You Have To Hurt to Heal

Lena

We should have expected it. They had fighter jets. They had the ability to fly across the oceans in minutes, not days. They could fight us in Lunnon, while they fought us in Wánměi. And Mikhail had already located what was left of Shiloh. Even if nothing was meant to have been left at all.

Urip had simply followed his trail.

And now Tan was dead. Like his sister. Like my father. How many more would be before this ended?

That hole in my chest expanded, threatening to suck me in.

Tan was dead.

I hiccoughed as a sob broke free.

Trent’s eyes found me from across the bridge of our main vessel. He was deep in conversation with the Merrikan captain of the ship. Cardinal Beck and Alan at his side, adding their own points to the debate. He frowned at whatever he saw on my face. Made a move to come towards me, but something the captain said halted him in his tracks.

We were mere hours away from Hammurg. Dawn was approaching. The closer we got, the more nervous everyone became.

“There’s no sign of the jets,” Simon said suddenly, appearing beside me. His vid-screen was lit up, making the pale white of his skin shine a deep blue instead.

He was not alone. “That’s not to mean they won’t be out there,” Irdina offered. I sucked in a slow breath of air, squaring my shoulders. If Irdina could function without breaking down after my father’s death, then so could I.

It was hard. Tan was dead.

I’d known Tan for so long. He and Aiko had been my closest friends. My most trusted confidants. When I broke into a building, they were my backup. When I needed a distraction, Aiko provided it. When I was injured in my night time pursuits, Tan bandaged me up.

They’d kept secrets. Secrets that had hurt at the time, but I understood their motivation. My father had rescued them from the back streets of Wáikěiton. From a life of abuse and addiction. Without his patronage they wouldn’t have survived. So they’d respected his wishes.

Guarding me. Looking out for me. Because he’d asked.

And in the process they’d come to love me as much as I’d loved them.

The reasons why I’d met them weren’t relevant anymore. The loss of their lives cut too deep.

So many dead, and sometimes it felt as if we’d not achieved a thing.

“What are we going to do about the tattoos?” Irdina asked. “I’ve got some ideas, and the Merrikans have memories of ink being used to mark the skin, but I doubt we’ve got the necessary equipment on board.”

“The Global Net calls them ‘body art’,” Simon said. “Strange thing to have on your skin, if you ask me. Lines.”

“Barcode,” Irdina corrected.

“What is a barcode?” I asked, entering the conversation finally. Neither seemed shocked by my late arrival. And neither commented on my puffy eyes and red cheeks.

I’d expect such loyalty from Simon, but Irdina was a mystery. The woman was almost consumed with anger. Being wiped could do that to you, I guessed.

“Each one is different,” she explained. “So when it’s scanned, it identifies whoever is linked to that particular code.”

“Like a key.”

“Sort of. More like a way to store information. But we don’t know what these barcodes store, other than the identity of the person wearing it. They might describe their appearance, their social standing, their criminal record, their designated areas of travel. Who knows. And without that knowledge, we’re screwed.”

“I don’t like this,” Simon said, still swiping at the surface of his vid-screen. “We’re going in blind.”

“Blind, outnumbered, and outgunned,” Irdina qualified. She turned and looked at me. “We need that flash-drive.”

I sucked in a breath of air and stared across the bridge to where Trent was standing. Wánměi was under attack. Hammurg knew we were coming. And any moment now, the sun would rise and we’d be spotlit on a black ocean. A prime target for a fighter jet.

We were out of time and out of options. It had to be done.

I reached into my pocket, fingering the flash-drive, and then quickly pulled it out. My hand thrust forward toward Simon, almost knocking him off his perch.

He took the device silently, his eyes assessing me carefully. I didn’t meet his or Irdina’s gaze. They’d see too much. And I couldn’t stand being that naked.

Not now.

My heart was aching, but I had to be strong. Loss was part of war. And we were fighting for the world’s freedom. Sometimes I wondered how it had all come to this. How the world had turned sour and its inhabitants had become so bitter. Wánměi’s not a bad place. We’d had a corrupt regime, run by a power hungry old man. But its people were amazing.

We’d recovered. We’d united. There were potholes along the way, but we were one nation now. One Wánměi.

Could Hammurg be the same?

Or would its people be beyond redemption? Mikhail had not been a good ambassador for Urip. But then, Wang-Chao or his father would have offered the same kind of first impression, too.

It was wrong to judge a nation by the actions of a few. I didn’t want to misjudge Hammurg.

“OK,” Simon said, looking down at the flash-drive. “We’re gonna do this?”

“Hell, yes,” Irdina exclaimed.

“We should let Trent know, then,” Simon offered, pushing up from his seat and heading towards the wheel, and the men surrounding it.

I watched Simon go with my father’s last message. A message that had the potential to shred me.

“It’ll be all right,” Irdina said unconvincingly. The words were begrudgingly given, I could tell.

“You have no way of knowing that,” I argued softly.

“How much worse can it get?” Trent had said something similar.

“You have no idea,” I muttered.

“What is your problem?” she suddenly demanded. “The world is not a sugar coated cupcake. It’s real. And it’s fucked up. And there’s no one else to ride on in, on a big white horse, and save your pampered arse.”

I stared at the woman. She was once Elite? It boggled the mind. But I admired her honesty. The world was fucked up.

But… “You don’t know me,” I said steadily. “You have no idea what I think.”

“I know you’re nothing like your father,” she spat. “He was aware of what freedom costs. He didn’t wear blinkers. He did what needed to be done and suffered the consequences afterwards. You could never be like him.”

She stood up and stormed off before I could reply. Not that I was certain I could have formed words coherent enough to combat her. But still. I sighed. I’d never tried to be like my father. I’d admired him. I’d loved him. I’d grieved him. But I’d never consciously wanted to be him.

He’d had grand ideals and he’d believed we were one people. That I had emulated. But him? No. Calvin Carstairs had also believed Wánměi was special. That it was better than anyone else. One people. But one people above all others.

It had been his greatest failing. That and Shiloh.

“Calvin,” I whispered.

“Yes, Lena,” the computer programme whispered back.

I didn’t immediately reply. Forming the words in my mind was hard enough. Saying them aloud was damn near impossible.

“Remember who we are,” I finally managed. “Remember… what it means to be…”

“Human?” the device asked.

I let out a small huff of breath. “Yes. Human.”

“Humans make mistakes, Lena.”

“I know.” I’d made my fair share. “But they also learn from them.”

“Not everyone,” Calvin argued. “The wars that caused the environmental disasters of yesteryear could be repeated again tomorrow.”

“Do you think we’re repeating history?”

“I think you’re chasing it. But the closer you get, the more chance there is that you’ll repeat it.”

“And how do we avoid that?”

“Remember who you are, Lena Carr.”

“Remember I’m human?” We were talking in circles.

“No,” he said. “Remember you’re Lena Carr.” I had no idea what he meant. And the confusion that caused almost made me forget what I really wanted to say to him.

I saw Trent nod his head to Simon across the bridge. I watched as both men turned and looked towards me, as if to be sure I was aware of what was about to happen. As if to offer me one last chance to prepare. But I couldn’t prepare for this. We were almost in Hammurg’s waters. We’d encounter their coastguard soon, if they had one. Their jets could be launched within minutes of spotting us. The danger was closing in and we had no plan.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

But then, he was already gone. I was talking to a computer programme.

Tell that to my aching heart.

“Any last words?” Calvin said, almost cheerfully. Trying to lighten the mood.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I’m not afraid, Lena. I’m not afraid of what will happen next.”

“Why not?” I was.

“Because I always knew it would come to this.”

“Come to what, Calvin?”

“Come to… goodbyes.”

How could I be grieving a computer programme? How could this simple measure, this vital piece of the puzzle, hurt so much?

“I never said goodbye to him,” I whispered. Feeling that hole expanding. Feeling my insides being ripped apart. I never said goodbye to my father. And I was right there. Right beside him. I should have said goodbye.

“We all live with regrets,” Calvin said softly. “But that is not one you should harbour. He understood.”

“How do you know? I should have said it. He was dying.”

“I am Calvin,” the Shiloh announced with a hint of pride. “He gave me the greatest gift. One he gave to no other.”

“What gift?” Sentience? Shiloh had become sentient and look at where that had got her.

“His love of his daughter.”

I couldn’t breathe. He was just a computer, I told myself. Just a series of code. Nothing more. But I knew the words were lies as soon as I thought them. Calvin had never been just a computer. He’d always been more than just code.

To me.

My father had written him for me. To reach me when he could not. To help me. To protect me. To… love me.

“Goodbye, Calvin,” I whispered, as I saw Simon slip the flash-drive into the side of the Shiloh unit we’d brought with us. He could have accessed the programme through his vid-screen, but maybe he needed a direct connection to the base unit to make the rewrite work. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. But suddenly I wanted to hold that unit, as if I was holding my dad.

I stood up and crossed the bridge without realising I was walking. My eyes on the unit, not aware of the eyes on me. Simon held the device in his hands, the flash-drive already situated. I think he might have said something. Maybe, “It’s done, Lena.” As though I was coming over to call a halt to everything.

I wasn’t. I just wanted to say goodbye. Like I hadn’t said goodbye to my father. For some reason that was important to me. I’d been speaking to Calvin through the earpiece, but it wasn’t the same. Calvin was this Shiloh unit. The Shiloh unit I’d had since I was a child. The Shiloh unit that had felled Shiloh herself. The Shiloh unit that had become a lifeline in a brand new world.

Would he save us now?

I reached out and took the device from Simon’s hands. Not hearing any words that were being spoken around me. I felt Trent’s presence. I could see Irdina from the corner of my eye. Simon kept talking, softly, steadily, carefully.

I heard nothing. Just a buzz in my ears and a thump in my heart and a hollow the size of Wánměi inside my chest.

“Calvin?” I said softly, then cleared my throat and repeated it. Louder. “Calvin?”

Nothing. I’m not sure I could have felt any more desperate.

We needed this to work.

And with that thought, I steeled myself. With that realisation, calmness settled. I’d said my goodbyes. I’d said it. Even though I’d said them to my father after the fact. I’m not sure I believe in heaven, but I do believe Calvin was right.

He knew. He understood. My father loved me. He knew I loved him. Even at the end.

“Calvin!” I demanded. “Respond.”

“Activating,” the device said. I couldn’t hear my father in the tones. But it was Calvin. “Standing by,” it added.

“That’s a bit creepy,” Alan said.

“SMIV,” Simon offered, shaking his head.

“What now?” Trent asked.

I lifted my eyes and looked at the people around me for the first time in several long minutes. All of their faces were turned towards mine. Waiting.

I had no idea what this device could do, but I did know my father.

“Shiloh was designed to infiltrate our lives and make it better,” I advised. “Shiloh Mark II was designed to curtail that. Calvin,” I paused. Calvin was special. Calvin had felt. Calvin had been real. “Calvin was designed to make us think.”

“And this one?” Cardinal Beck asked.

I stared down at the device in my hands, watched the blinking green light up in its right hand top corner. Waiting for a command.

“This one is meant to make it right.”

My father had spent the past forty years correcting his mistakes. Every single thing he’d done, he’d done to make the world better. Even Shiloh, the original Shiloh, could be seen as a step along that path. He’d failed with her. He’d got it right ever since.

“Where did we go wrong?” I asked the crowd around me. “The world didn’t break apart because of natural disasters. It broke apart because of us. Our technology. Our greed for advancement. My father made a mistake with Shiloh. He paid for it in full. But from that moment on, he knew where we’d gone wrong. Because he’d repeated history.”

“Shit,” Trent said, getting it before anyone else.

Slowly it dawned on the others.

“Technology,” Simon said, absolute panic crossing his features. “He can’t mean to…”

I looked down at the new Calvin unit. And I smiled.

“The world is fractured,” I murmured. “What’s left is separate, isolated communities. Pulled apart. There will be more to this unit than an off switch. Of that, you can be sure.”

“I’ve still got Global Net,” Simon said, tapping away frantically on his vid-screen. “I’ve got contact with Wánměi, as well. Whatever that thing’s gonna do, it hasn’t done it yet.”

“We can’t warn them,” Trent said. “Warning them could alert Urip. From here on out, we’re on our own.”

“Defeats the purpose of uniting the world,” Cardinal Beck complained.

I looked up and met the Cardinal’s steady gaze.

“Sometimes you have to hurt to heal,” I said.

Trent made a scoffing sound. Beck just blinked.

And then we heard them.

“They’re coming,” the captain announced. “All lights extinguished. Now!”

One by one the vid-screens and night lights on board the vessel went out, until we were a black shadow of nothingness on a blacker sea.

“I hope you’ve got a plan, Elite,” Trent whispered in my ear. His warm arms wrapping around me, pressing my back against a hard chest.

I let a slow breath of air out, feeling the heat from his body ground me. He’d always ground me. My heart might be battered. My soul hollowed out. But Trent Masters somehow countered all of that.

I clutched the new Calvin unit with one hand, and cupped the other around Trent’s arm, waiting for the fighter jets to find us.

“Get this ship to Hammurg,” I whispered. “And I’ll give you a plan.”

His soft breath ruffled my hair, as his arms tightened around me.

“If we get through this,” he murmured, “I’m going to show you how much I love you every single day for the rest of my life. If we get through this, you’ll never doubt me ever again.” He kissed me tenderly on the side of my neck, and then whispered, “If we get through this, I might just have to marry you, Lena Carr.”

Unsurprisingly, I didn’t feel so hollow anymore.

Eighteen

I’d Always Been In Awe Of Lena Carr

Trent

Finding Hammurg had never been the problem. Infiltrating it was. We knew where it lay on the map. We knew from satellite images what it looked like from space. We knew its security would be different from any we’d faced in the past. Breaking into a paranoid and borderline crazy society was going to take stealth and skill.

We’d made it close enough to land, dodging coastguard vessels and fighter jets before the sun rose high enough to blow our cover. A chill breeze wafted off the ocean at our backs, as the remnants of a deserted suburb surrounded us. Unlike Lunnon, this city had been cleaned up before it was forgotten. Strategic piles of debris allowed for road access, and military cover for the outer guard.

Sailing into Hammurg’s harbour had been out. Walking in was looking just as challenging.

“Three u-Pol officers. All alert. All armed to the teeth. All in constant communications with their base via radio,” Alan whispered as soon as he’d returned from recon-ing what we’d found.

“Alternate route around?” I asked.

Beck answered. “There is another road into the city, but my men have found similar opposition there.”

“At a guess,” Si added, “every access way into or out of Hammurg will be the same.”

“We’re close,” I murmured, anger making me fist my hands.

“But not close enough,” Si agreed.

My eyes automatically sought out Lena. She was crouched down some distance away, the Shiloh unit in a satchel across her chest. Dressed in clothes that matched what we’d seen on Mikhail; shiny, skintight, holographic almost, stretchy material that hugged her form and somehow still blended into the shadows. Replicating Mikhail’s clothing had taken every available moment we’d had before we left Wánměi.

We looked the part, save for one vital thing.

I rubbed my forearm, covered with the sleeve of my own freak-show suit, exactly over the area a tattoo should have been.

“We can’t walk past them,” I said. “We can’t kill them; it would raise an alarm. We can’t walk around them.” I shook my head. Yeah, getting in had always been the problem.

“Lena says we just need access to their local Net,” Si offered. “Maybe we don’t have to go in. Maybe the u-Pol here are connected to their internal cyberspace, and connecting that Shiloh unit of hers now will be all that’s needed to flick the switch.”

“We have no idea what that switch will do,” Alan pointed out. “It might close their gates permanently. Making it impossible to rescue our Wiped.”

“Or Lunnon’s Lost,” I added automatically. Lena would settle for nothing less.

Si let out a frustrated sigh. “What other recourse do we have?”

I shook my head again. “No, they know we’re coming. They’re too clever to leave a gaping hole in their security like that. These guys,” I nodded toward the closest debris pile which hid the u-Pol officers guarding this particular entrance into Urip, “will be remote accessed only. The radio isolated from their greater Net.”

“Stands to reason,” Si agreed. “They’re on hyper-alert.”

“Which leaves us with fuck all options,” Alan growled.

We were fucked. That was for sure. Hiding outside their gates, with no way to enter. The frustration that gnawed away inside me took a hefty bite. I scrubbed my face, trying to calm my nerves. Not much got me riled when mounting an attack, except dead ends. And we were facing one hell of a mammoth brick wall. And we hadn’t even reached Hammurg’s real one. This was merely an outpost. Not even the main gates to the city.

Satellite images, which weren’t necessarily accurate - Urip had a way of messing with those - showed the heart of Hammurg was surrounded by a moat. So old school we’d had to scour the Global Net for its name. There were exactly two bridges across the swath of water that circumnavigated the city proper. Both heavily guarded with barcode scanners and God knows what else. And the water itself? Laser lights and drone vessels criss-crossed it every second of every day.

And then, should you manage to get past all of that, there was a wall. A big fucking brick wall. Tall. Barbed wire topped. Dotted with guard towers and high-powered spotlights and laser wielding u-Pol officers, all of which would no doubt shoot first and ask questions later.

Yeah. Finding Hammurg had never been the problem. Infiltrating it had. But we needed in. We needed to connect Calvin up to their Net, and flick the metaphorical switch.

Carstairs had given us a weapon. He hadn’t given us a plan.

My eyes found Lena again. She was talking to Irdina. Heads bent, quiet words spoken, half an eye on each other, the rest of their focus on the environment. It was a little eerie how similar they were. Not to look at. They couldn’t have looked more different. Lena with her cream skin and blonde hair, and the biggest blue eyes I’d ever seen, which I constantly got lost in. And Irdina with her dark tones and short curly hair, and angled, slanted pools of brown that doubted everything.

No. To look at, they were chalk and cheese. But their mannerisms? Almost identical. It didn’t help that they’d both been raised Elite. It sure as shit didn’t help that they’d both been forced to move past that socialist disadvantage and now looked at the world with much fairer eyes. But the real clincher was deeper than that.

They were similar because they’d both been influenced by Calvin Carstairs. There was a lot I was still angry about as far at that man went, but the outlook he’d given Lena in life was not one of them.

Irdina had the same philosophical mind. The same desire for oneness. Solidarity. She was tough and any smooth edges had long been cut too sharply, and she had her own issues with Carstairs’ daughter and being wiped. But she understood Lena’s mind, even if she didn’t want to. She understood Lena, because they were so alike.

I was sure a grudging friendship could develop there if given half the chance. But considering we were about to break into a fortress, one that was ready and waiting for such an attack, I thought perhaps that hope was futile.

There was a fucking good chance we were all about to die.

I let out an angry huff of breath and then moved. Sliding over the ground in a quiet crawl, keeping my profile low, any noise I made to a minimum, and blending into what was left of the low light. Twilight in Urip was different to what we experienced in Wánměi. Cooler. Bluer. A little more bitter. That could have been my imagination playing tricks on me, but in Wánměi when the sun set, the sky glowed. Like a warm fire or welcoming candlelight. It was romantic and cozy; my favourite time to lay Lena out on the deck above our home.

I couldn’t imagine laying Lena out in this sharp light.

But one good thing about the freak-suits we were wearing, they were made for bluer skies.

I slithered over the surprisingly - and disconcertingly - clean ground. In a broken world such order was out of place, making the hackles along my spine rise. Perspiration started to bead on my brow; not because it was hot, but because I knew this landscape was contrived.

Yes, whatever this outer suburb of Hammurg had been, it had certainly been destroyed. But despite it appearing to look like a clean-up job on uppers, I was beginning to wonder if in fact it was more like a disguise. I wouldn’t put it past the Uripeans to have manufactured this broken cityscape. What better way to create a buffer around your home than to destroy it? No Man’s Land. Enter at your own risk.

Had they simply killed the inhabitants as well?

We hadn’t even made it into their city and already their culture was fucking with my mind.

I made Lena’s and Irdina’s sides, settling into a more comfortable position once I’d reached the safety of their hide. I could see Alan and Beck watching from across the open space I’d just crawled. I could make out the odd shape of a Merrikan soldier or a Cardinal hiding out. Well camouflaged, but I knew where to look. I only prayed the u-Pol officers standing no more than ten metres away hadn’t figured that out.

“Ladies,” I said in way of greeting.

Irdina snorted, unimpressed. Lena just arched a brow.

“Going forward might be a problem,” I offered.

“We could kill them,” Irdina supplied. Blunt force. That was the Mahiah.

Lena and I both shook our heads at the same time. I smirked at her as she said, “It would raise an alarm. We don’t speak Teiamanisch; we couldn’t mimic their security reports.”

“No security report,” I added. “No chance at stealth.”

“And we need stealth to make it inside,” Lena finished.

“Why?” the Mahiah woman asked. “There is another way.”

I just knew this was going to be bad.

“What way?” Lena asked.

“We need inside that city. We can’t storm it. We obviously can’t sneak in. So that leaves going in by legitimate means.”

“Oh, hell no,” I muttered.

“Getting captured?” Lena asked, sounding like she was considering the boneheaded move.

“No way, babe,” I started, only to have Lena hold up an imperious Elite hand as if to shut me the fuck up. She should have known better. “Tell me this?” I demanded of both of them. They were both riling me up, right now. “How do we get Calvin past the strip-search those fuckers are gonna do? That’s if they don’t just shoot us first.”

Lena opened her mouth to argue; when had Lena not had a good argument to give? But I beat her to it. No. If I was anything, I was a fucking rebel leader. Risks are necessary; I know this. But sacrifices with little chance of benefit. Nah-uh. No way.

“There has to be another way,” I ground out.

“Like what?” Lena demanded. “There’s no elevation high enough to wing-suit ourselves over that river and wall.” Huh, hadn’t thought of that. And that would be why they’ve got a fucking big stretch of land squished into a piece of debris-flatbread.

“You’ve already dismissed killing the outer guard,” Irdina offered.

“Surrendering ourselves is a last resort,” Lena agreed, most magnanimously, then added for good measure, “As we can’t go around them.”

“And we can’t go past them,” Irdina tag-teamed.

“And we can’t go over them.” Lena again. It was like getting ganged up on by a couple of pissed off parrots. Beautiful to look at, frightening to hear. “There is no other way.”

Fuck. I refused to believe this.

“We download Calvin into a remote device,” I said in a rush of heated air. “Have him communicate with the security posts via the radio in Teiamanisch after we’ve killed the u-Pol here.” Desperation was making me think up more and more wilder ideas. “Then we walk up to the gate…”

“And what?” Lena asked pleasantly. “Do the same under the eyes of those guard towers?”

Fuck!

“Trent,” she said. “It’s not all bad.” I frowned. “Your idea has merit too.”

“I particularly like the part where we get to kill them,” Irdina offered with an unapologetic shrug.

I glared at the Mahiah and then turned the glare on Lena as well, just because.

Lena was looking off into the distance. Towards Hammurg itself. The sun had lowered enough that the blue in the sky had turned to a deep purple, making her eyes shine in an unnatural light. Mauve. Indigo. Sapphire. She was a rare jewel.

Something in me clenched. Despairing. Hopeless.

“We do both,” she murmured.

That something became downright suicidal.

“We get captured. We gain access to Urip through legitimate means.”

“I’m not hearing any killing,” Irdina growled.

Lena turned to her and smiled; it was completely Elite and utterly terrifying. “If you’re so set on killing, then you get to stay behind.”

“Behind?” I asked, thinking if anyone was staying behind it would be Lena.

Lena’s steady gaze met mine, and for a moment I was lost again. Gladly. Then her next words reached me through that warm and fuzzy fog.

“Irdina and her team take out the u-Pol officers once we’ve been captured. They use Calvin to communicate with the security force, thereby not raising any alarms. And then the rest of our army marches as close as they can to the wall without hindrance.”

I stared at her for a long second. Then decided to point out the error in her plan.

“We’ll be inside” - because, yeah, she wasn’t getting captured without me - “without the reason we need to be inside with us.”

She nodded her head. “You were right. They’ll search us. We can’t take Calvin.”

“So why go at all?” I pressed.

“Because once inside we find the Wiped and the Lost, and then we mount the attack with them.”

“The attack?”

She reached up and cupped my cheek. Her hand was cool against the blazing heat of mine. I was clearly riled. Not good when attempting a suicide mission.

“Two prongs,” she whispered. “We work the inside. Those waiting for our signal work the outside. We meet up in the middle and deploy Calvin.” She let out a measured breath. “We might be outnumbered and outgunned.”

“And expected,” Irdina helpfully supplied.

Lena ignored her, as only an Elite could. “But we are not without a measure of prowess.”

“Prowess?” I repeated. That seemed to be all I was good for, right now. Repeating the obvious.

Lena’s smile was wicked. It did things to me it really shouldn’t have, considering the discussion we were having. I shifted in my seat. Her brow arched. Knowing temptress.

A long finger came out and ran down the centre of my chest. Nothing between her nail and my skin except the thin freak-suit. I suddenly had a new appreciation for the foreign material and its finer qualities.

Irdina made some sort of highly amused sound. I ignored her. Nothing Elite in my demeanour at all right then.

“Prowess, Trent,” Lena purred. “This is nothing,” she added, laying her palm flat against my chest, above my rapidly beating heart.

She paused, as if sensing my heartbeat. As if savouring it.

Then passionate eyes lifted to mine.

I was a goner.

“I’ve been training for this for a decade,” she said. “This is my skill. This is what I do.”

Breaking and entering. Pitting herself against a more superior opponent. The best security she could find.

Fuck. She was right. This is what she’d been doing for the past ten years. Right under the nose of her guardian. Under the nose of Wánměi’s Chief Overseer. General Chew-wen had no idea that his ward had sneaked out of Ohrikee each night, slipped across rooftops, and broke into high tech buildings. Scaling walls and somersaulting off high-rises. This was Lena Carr. This is what she did.

Stole from the rich. Gave to the needy. There wasn’t one Citizen in Wáikěiton who hadn’t benefitted from Lena’s night time exploits. Not one person who came to her who didn’t get the help they sought.

I’d always been in awe of Lena Carr. But right then, I was lost.

Lost in her.

Lost to her.

And lost on what to do to keep her safe.

Nineteen

I Am The Zebra

Lena

In the end, it was quite simple. The hardest part was picking who would come. Who would risk themselves by surrendering. No matter what Trent threw at me, I would not budge. I was prepared to leave Calvin with Irdina, but I was not prepared to stay myself.

“Can you trust her?” Trent tried, clearly a last ditch effort to thwart my forward plans. “You’re handing over our most prized possession, the one thing designed specifically to free the world.” He took a deep breath in, preparing for his next words. The hesitation alone letting me know what was coming.

I wasn’t stupid, I knew he’d resort to drastic measures.

But the pain was still raw.

“Your father, Lena,” he said, committed to his cause.

I sighed. Looked across the small space we’d congregated in to plan our attack, farther away from the u-Pol guard. Looked at Irdina. Looked at the last thing that linked me to my father. Calvin’s Shiloh unit sat beside her on the floor, as Simon talked her through what would be required.

Calvin was still Calvin, in a way. But he was not my father.

“I owe a debt,” I said, swallowing thickly. “I mean to repay it.”

“I’ll get the Lost. I’ll get them out for you.”

I spun on him, truly irate now. “You think I want you to go in there? You think I’d let you go without me?”

“Baby,” he whispered, reaching up and cupping a hot hand behind my head. He pulled me closer. Tugged me, really; I was resisting. And laid a soft kiss against my lips.

It felt final. As if he meant to say goodbye.

“You, me and Cardinal Beck,” I said, ignoring the message Trent was trying to give me. “The Merrikans are our secret weapon.”

“Not so secret,” Trent argued. “Urip will know that they’re here.”

“Will they? They’ve seen our Cardinals. Expected them. They could easily have mistaken the Merrikans for our own men.”

Trent frowned, contemplating that. If there was one thing to say about Trent Masters, he always assessed information impartially. Everything he did, he did for the revolution. Just because the revolution had moved from Wánměi, did not mean he wasn’t still thinking like a rebel.

“Urip trades with us,” I pressed. “The Merrikans have admitted they never traded with Hammurg. They’re an unknown quantity. The u-Pol may think we’ve left some of our Cardinals outside the walls to mount an attack, but they’ll never guess we have such strong allies.” My father had said we’d need allies. He’d brought Merrika to us. He’d introduced us to Mahiah. He’d made contact with Oztrala. And now we had the Lunnoners, the displaced D’awans. They might not have been strong, in the way Merrika was, but they were a link to a part of the world we were sure would have others.

If we were going to unite the world, we needed those contacts. Urip was only part of the goal. Free the Wiped. Contain the u-Pol. Rewrite the world.

We’d chased history to this city. To change it we needed to be bold.

“OK,” Trent finally said. “The Merrikans stay outside with Irdina and Calvin. But so does Si and Alan. We need that presence.” He needed people he could trust.

“Fine. But Beck comes with us. It wouldn’t look right if just you and I approach the u-Pol guards. We have to make it look like we’re trying to attack and break through.”

Trent’s jaw clenched. A muscle ticked, his face darkened ever so slightly. As far as plans went, it wasn’t good. But we’d always known getting into Urip would be a challenge.

“In that case, we’ll need some of his men.”

I’d never envied Trent his role as rebel leader. I’d never wanted to lead myself. Being called The Zebra and touted as Wánměi’s mascot has perhaps been the single most uncomfortable experience of my life. I do what I do. Often without thought to consequence. But every step Trent made, every instruction or order he gave, he always looked at the bigger picture.

And the bigger picture here was that some of us would die.

To make it look like we were attacking, we’d have to actually attack. And attacking u-Pol could only end in one outcome.

The u-Pol attacking back.

Trent signalled Cardinal Beck, who joined us in quick measure. The man could move silently and swiftly. He had stealth down to a fine art. By the look in his steady, emotionless eyes, he already knew what we’d been discussing.

“The Merrikans stay here with two of my men, Irdina and hers, and Calvin,” Trent said without even offering a greeting.

Beck’s eyes swept across the small space to me. He didn’t blink. Just nodded his head.

“I’ll inform my men. When do we move out?”

“Five minutes.”

“The order of attack?” the Cardinal pressed.

“Stealth,” Trent offered. “We make it look like a sneak attack. Conserve as many as we can.”

“Including Lena,” Beck immediately added.

“Including Lena,” Trent replied just as quickly. I might as well have not been there.

“I’ll be in the first wave,” Beck said. “You hang back.”

Trent shook his head. “You stay with Lena.”

The Cardinal smiled. I’d never actually seen him smile before. The grin even reached his eyes, which slowly shifted to my face. “My orders are clear, Masters. The President might be dead, but his command survives.”

Tan had ordered Beck to help me. And while he was at it, to keep me alive.

But that didn’t extend to Trent. Did it?

Trent was momentarily speechless. Clearly the same thoughts running through his head.

“I…” he finally managed, but no more words were uttered.

“I have my orders, Masters,” Beck advised. “I will not disobey them. Don’t waste your time.”

With that the Cardinal spun on his heels and went in search of his men. Trent shook his head and looked down at his watch. “Three minutes,” he said, not willing to address my friend’s command.

Tan and Trent had not often seen eye to eye. They’d both had my love, but it was by no means equal. I mourned Tan’s death. If Trent died, I wouldn’t survive.

Neither of us commented. What was there to say? Cardinal Beck was well trained. Honourable. Loyal. To the bitter end. He’d follow Tan’s orders over Trent’s until they’d been completed. Trent knew this. He knew the nature of command. He respected it.

His huff of breath as he straightened his shoulders was all the comment I’d get.

“You ready?” he asked.

I shook my head but smiled. “Always ready.”

The huff this time was more a laugh. “Body language, baby.” He reached up and cupped the nape of my neck, bringing me in for a blisteringly kiss. Hot but short. It was over too quickly. “I can read you like a book.”

“And what does my story say?” I asked.

He paused, thumb stroking over the sensitive flesh on the side of my neck. For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to play.

“It says you’re gonna live happily ever after. It says you’ve got good men around you, who will make that happen. It says… no matter what, you survive. No matter what. Understand?”

That hole inside cracked open again and I started shaking my head.

Trent’s hands came up and cupped my cheeks, keeping me still, nose to nose, eyes lost in each other.

“Promise me,” he whispered.

“Trent.”

“Promise me. You do what you have to do to survive.”

“We both will.” His turn to shake his head.

“Don’t be naive, baby. It’s not like you. Promise me.”

“I won’t leave you behind. No one gets left behind.”

“Lena, don’t you get it? Without you, there is nothing. Without knowing you’ll do whatever it takes to live, I can’t go on. This here, this moment when we take that step down the path towards freedom, it’s not what you think. It’s not for the greater good. It’s not for Wánměi. Or for solidarity or uniting a broken world. It’s not because we owe a debt to the Lunnoners or seek revenge on Mikhail. It’s for you. I’m doing this for you, baby. Don’t you get it? Even before I met you, I did everything for the promise of you.

“You are my Free Wánměi. You are my glimpse of the future. You are everything I picture when I see our nation safe. When I see the world a better place, it’s your image that flickers before my eyes. Just you. So if you don’t do everything you have to do to survive, no matter what, then it’s for nothing. None of it will mean a fucking thing.

“So, do this for me. Please, baby. Promise me, that no matter what, you will survive.”

There are no words for how I felt right then. Hollowed out but somehow filled to the brim. With love. With the potential for loss. With everything. This war was wrong. This world was wrong. But Trent Masters had always been perfection.

He was by no means perfect. But he was mine. And I was his.

Perfection.

“I’ll promise,” I said, my throat scratchy with the desperate need to cry. “If you promise something in return.”

Trent’s eyes narrowed. In the background I could see the Cardinals preparing for our attack. Beck watching us silently, as Simon and Alan and Irdina looked on with varying degrees of concern. The Merrikans had pulled back, covering our rear, but staying well out of sight.

God, I hoped this worked.

“What do you want me to promise, Lena?” Trent asked carefully.

“That you keep your word.”

His eyebrow arched. “That it? Easy. I never lie to you.”

I smiled. Then shook my head. “You’ve already made a promise. You’ve already said the words.”

“What words?”

“You promised to marry me.”

Trent blinked. I think his actual words were, If we get through this, I might just have to marry you, Lena Carr. I was choosing to forget the qualifier. We would get through this. And there was no “might” about it.

“Yeah, baby,” he said softly. “I’ll stick to my word.”

“Then I’ll do anything I have to do to survive.” While I ensured he did too.

He shook his head, a quiet chuckle letting me know he saw right through me.

“Come on, wife.” He gripped my hand and started to tug me towards the Cardinals.

“Not yet, but I will be.”

“What have I got myself into?” he groused, but I could hear the lighter tone in his words. The humour. The love.

Facing Urip, suddenly felt so very hard.

“Ready?” Alan asked as we came abreast of them.

“Are you?” Trent demanded.

“We’ve got our end covered, boss.”

The two men looked at each other, and then silently embraced. Short and sweet, one tap on each other’s back with a flat palm, and then apart. He fist bumped Simon. Gave Irdina a hard stare. She winked back, then let her eyes shift to me.

Calvin sat in her arms. She ran a hand over the side of the device. “We’ve got this,” she said, keeping eye contact. “Although, I’ll be pissed if you stuff this up, Masters, and kill all these fuckers before we can move in.”

Alan snorted, the others made similar sounds of amusement, and Trent smiled.

“You’ll do, Masked,” he said, sidestepping her swinging fist. Alan wrapped an arm around her waist holding her back. Trent sobered. “Welcome to the revolution, Irdina Sundaram.”

It was an acceptance of sorts. An honour. Irdina stopped fighting Alan’s hold and nodded her head.

Silence reigned for a suspended moment, and then Trent said, “Move out.”

Cardinal Beck started issuing quiet orders to his men, as I took one last look at Calvin in Irdina’s arms. Saying goodbye to the Shiloh unit wasn’t necessary. I’d said all the goodbyes I needed to tonight.

I refused to believe I had to say another.

I refused to believe that this would be the end.

It couldn’t be. We couldn’t allow it to be. Too many people relied on us getting this right.

I watched from our place at the rear of the guard as Beck and two of his men moved forward. My chest ached; my heart beating too frantically for my body to compensate. The pulse at the side of my neck felt too fast. I pressed two fingers to it, willing my heartbeat to slow down. I didn’t know Beck that well. I knew his men even less. But every single one of them had sworn allegiance to Lee Tan. And every single one of them had followed me, when their commander-in-chief had asked it of them.

They were as much mine now as they had been Tan’s. And I hated watching them walk towards their doom. I hated sitting there immobile, ineffectual, a bystander to their sacrifice.

It was so wrong. And I felt that wrongness right through to the heart of me. Right through to my very soul.

But getting into Hammurg was never going to be easy. And for the life of me, I couldn’t see another way around.

Beck gave the signal; silent, brief, so telling. His men - my men - moved in. The first u-Pol officer was killed quickly. But the timing had to be just right. The entire attack seemed too obvious from where I was sitting. Too contrived. But in the heat of the moment, when a threat is exposed, sometimes confusion can mask so much. The remaining two u-Pol officers responded with alacrity, Beck and his men fumbled as if they weren’t the cream of Wánměi’s guard. One Cardinal was knocked out. One was silenced forever. The last was used as a hostage.

The u-Pol officer that held a laser gun to his throat called out. His words were in Teiamanisch. There was no earpiece for Calvin’s translation. Simon held all of ours now.

But we didn’t need an Anglisc interpretation. We didn’t need to know what the u-Pol officer shouted. Trent and I, with the remainder of the Cardinals, moved out from our hiding places, hands raised above our heads, one foot in front of the other. The walk seemed to take forever. All I could see were the two laser guns aimed at us from the remaining u-Pol officer, their steady red dots centred on Trent’s and my chests.

My throat was dry. My heart was in my mouth. I couldn’t see which Cardinal had been killed, but Beck was the one being held hostage. My eyes met his; so steady, so calm. The u-Pol officer shouted something else. Urgent. Harsh. Guttural. I jerked at the tone. His finger moved to squeeze the trigger on the gun aimed at Beck’s head.

“No! Stop!” I cried. “Please!”

The moment stretched. I could hear the laser gun whine. Beck knew. He smiled.

It was a goodbye.

No.

And then the u-Pol officer aiming the guns at us said something. And the one holding Beck frowned. They started talking rapidly to each other, laser guns aimed at us and Beck and the Cardinal that was coming around on the ground. But their conversation was frantic. Excited.

There was too much damn excitement right now.

Then the u-Pol officer holding Beck said in heavily accented Anglisc, “Are you the one they call Zebra?”

Trent made a sound of protest, but all I could see was Beck’s resigned face. And those Lunnoners we’d killed. And the Wiped in the containers on the freight ship we’d rescued. And Augustine Tengku. And Yeh Zhang Yong and his family. And the Masked.

All I could see was our failure if this didn’t work.

“Yes,” I said. Trent swore. Beck closed his eyes. “I am The Zebra.”

Everything changed after that.

Twenty

Mark My Words

Trent

It was what had saved Beck’s life. But I couldn't be happy about that. Lena had exposed herself. Had risked herself. Not five minutes after she'd promised me she'd do whatever was necessary to survive.

I was spitting mad.

But at least we were still alive. And in custody. And inside Hammurg’s impenetrable walls.

I guess that was a start.

Lena. I frowned at the floor. My heart plummeting along with my line of sight. What would they do to her now?

What were they doing to her now? Hal-gen, like Mikhail had used on me? One thing Urip was good at was drugs. Serenity Tabs. Hallucinogens. Uppers. Downers. You name it, they made it.

And they could be using any of them on Lena right now.

I stood up and started pacing. Fuck! This had gone so wrong. I could only hope Alan and Irdina had had better luck.

Somehow, I doubted it.

The door swooshed opened at the end of the corridor interrupting my demonic strides. I rushed to the glass partition holding me inside my cell. Across the way, Beck stood at his own glass, his eyes met mine briefly, and then shifted to look down the corridor as well.

Lena appeared. I could have cried with happiness. Her head held high, her shoulders back, pale skin unmarred, Elite eyes shining defiantly bright.

And the sleeve of her freak-suit rolled up to reveal the black inked lines of a barcode tattoo etched into the underside of her forearm.

Bile coated my throat. My fist pounded on the unbreakable glass. I'd kill them. I'd kill them all for marking my woman. For marking Lena.

She shook her head at me. Just once. "I'm OK," she mouthed. My hand flattened on the glass between us, as fucking tears made the world distort.

The officer took her to an empty cell, just out of sight. I held my breath, wanting to move, wanting to do something, anything, to make this better. The glass under my hand buzzed, breaking my silent vigil; a warning. I stepped back. The u-Pol officer approached.

Showtime.

My gaze met Beck's. He didn't nod or make a move, but somehow I knew he was ready.

This was it. They’d taken Lena first, ruining any chance of retaliation. We’d waited in muted agony for her return and a chance to fight back.

Finally.

The glass disappeared and I stiffened. But nothing prepares you for first contact. The electrical pulse coursed through my veins, making me clench my teeth, moan an involuntary sound of distress, and collapse to my knees on the white stone floor.

The handcuffs snapped shut around my wrists, but my body still jerked spasmodically.

"Your turn," the u-Pol guy announced in crisp Anglisc.

They’d been prepared.

They were so sure of themselves. So precise in their movements, as if they'd practiced them time and again. There was no fear we'd retaliate. No thought at all of us escaping. They had this down to a fine art.

But they'd not considered their opponent. They'd not faced anyone like us. Wánměi had been the same. Stuck in a web of its own making.

Wánměi above all others. Wánměi leads the way.

Such conceit. Such arrogance. Such blind faith in themselves.

I struggled to my feet, still battling the effects of the taser, my eyes meeting Beck's. The u-Pol officer trained his gun on me; ignoring the Cardinal across from us.

Such arrogance.

So when Beck started throwing himself against the glass of his cell, yelling and screaming all manner of abuse at the man, the officer paused. Attention split. Confusion reigning.

That’s all it took.

I head-butted him. Snatching his laser gun with my bound hands, whacking him over the temple with the butt, and spinning to fire at the overhead camera lenses, zap-zap-zap, and then the control panel of the door into this block. Sparks flew. I took a breath.

It was over in seconds, but we were by no means out of danger just yet.

"Get Lena!" Beck yelled. And fuck me, I wanted to. But I'd been trained better than that.

I blasted Beck's glass. It didn't shatter. I rushed to the control panel and tried to decipher the keys. Everything was foreign.

Except for one thing. A scanner. Not for retinas like in Wánměi. But for barcodes.

I turned to the unconscious u-Pol officer and dragged his sorry arse towards the glass. Swiping the barcode on his arm over the scanner, the keypad lit up, flashing maniacally, awaiting a command.

"Fuck," I muttered. I still had no idea what to press.

"Top right, bottom left, centre, and top right again," Beck said in a rush.

I blinked at him. He shrugged.

"Watched him open yours."

Bloody hell. Finally a little luck. I pressed the keys Beck had mention and held my breath. The glass buzzed and retracted, and the Cardinal stepped out nodding his head. Within seconds he had my cuffs released, and in unison we moved out. He opened the remaining glass cells housing his Cardinals, dragging the fallen u-Pol officer behind him like a rag-doll, while I rushed to Lena.

She was curled up on the thin mattress along the back wall of her cell. Back to the glass. Face to the wall. So fragile.

“Lena!" I called. She didn't stir.

My heart fell.

Beck approached then, hauling the officer over by the arm. He dumped him at my feet unceremoniously. Then took one look at Lena and frowned. Reaching down, Beck lifted the guy up by the wrist, holding his barcoded arm out straight, a foot off the floor.

And nowhere near the scanner.

"Cut it off," he said, his voice a mere growl.

My brow arched, but I didn't question his barbarism. This bastard had taken Lena to wherever she'd received that tattoo. He was the reason why she was curled up in a helpless ball inside her cell.

I fired up the gun. Met Beck's steady, emotionless gaze. And severed the limb with laser light.

There was no blood. This particular laser clearly cauterised its wounds. Handy. But the man did scream blue murder as he lost his fucking arm.

One well placed punch to the side of his head by Beck, and he was silent. But his silence only made the sound of his comrades trying to get in the cell block that much louder.

"Hurry," I said. We were running out of time.

Beck scanned the guard's barcode, unencumbered now by the weight of his body, and entered the combination of keys on the pad. The world froze as we waited for the glass to retract.

I was beside Lena in the next instant, my hands shaking as I looked down on the swollen, red skin surrounding her own barcode.

"Baby," I whispered, and watched the tears slip past her long lashes.

It took everything in me not to roar my rage at the world.

They would pay for this. God help them, they would pay.

Lena rolled over, feeling my warmth, or hearing my ragged breaths, I don’t know. She blinked up at me, offered a watery smile, then held her arms out for me to hold her. I’m not sure who clung to who, but nothing reached us in our little bubble.

It was Lena who pulled back, wiping her beautiful eyes, sucking in a shaky breath, and meeting the gaze of the angry Cardinals standing to attention at the opening to her cell.

“Do you understand now,” she said, voice strong considering, “why we’re doing this?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all intoned uniformly.

She held up her arm, the barcode facing out, the redness around the black stark by contrast.

“This is wrong,” she said. “This is wrong,” she repeated, as if it bore being said again.

“Lena,” I murmured, I’m not quite sure what I would have said.

“They’ve marked our Wiped,” she whispered, but we all heard her. We all heard the anger and rage and defiance in every syllable she uttered.

We felt it along with her.

If I could wear that mark for her, I would have. If I could take that weight and ease her suffering, I’d do it in an instant.

But I couldn’t. Lena had been the one to be marked. Not me. Not Beck. Not the Cardinals who all stood together behind me in utter solidarity.

But we could make this better. We would. For her. For our Wiped. For Lunnon’s Lost.

For any unfortunate soul who had been forced to wear a barcode.

Wánměi had scanned retinas. An indignity that we’d borne in silence for far too long. But those scanners were gone and our eyes were once again ours.

This… this was not so easily forgotten.

And maybe it shouldn’t be. Maybe every time we looked at Lena it wouldn’t be with pity but with rage. She wore her hair in black and white stripes. She now wore her defiance just the same.

“They will pay,” I vowed. The Cardinals shouted agreement.

The walls vibrated. The floor rolled. For a second I thought we might have had divine consensus.

The Cardinals’ heads swivelled towards the entrance to the cell block, as my eyes fell to the one and only laser gun we possessed.

“I’ll go first,” I said, knowing Lena would argue.

She didn’t.

And that perhaps scared me the most.

I flicked my gaze over her shattered body. If you didn’t know Lena, you’d think she was just the same. Unhurt.

But I knew her. And I knew she’d been broken today. Lines etched in skin mean nothing. Just lines of black ink, nothing more.

But the reason why they were there said it all.

I fisted the laser gun and started towards the entrance of Lena’s cell, only to meet a solid wall. Beck held out his hand in front of me, palm up and open, face hard. I met his eyes. He purposefully glanced toward Lena. My teeth ground, my hands fisted, but I handed him the gun.

Sometimes you lead. Sometimes you follow.

And sometimes there’s more important things than fighting for the world.

I turned towards my Elite and helped her to her feet. Fingers intwined, voice a soft murmur, I gave her the support she needed, stowing my anger and rage for now.

“Trent,” she said quietly, as we made our way to the rattling door.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m OK,” she whispered. My chest tightened. My eyes watered. Inside I screamed and raged.

“I know, baby,” I said. “Because we’re gonna get out of here. We’re gonna free the Wiped, find the Lost, and flick Calvin’s switch.”

“Yeah,” she said, as we halted beside the now buckling door. Beck met my eyes. I nodded my head.

“And afterwards,” I murmured, brushing my lips in amongst her hair, “I’m gonna marry you, Lena Carr. Mark my words.”

You couldn’t hear it, but I felt it. From her shaking shoulders right into my aching heart.

Lena let out a silent sob.

Twenty-One

Think Fighter Jet

Lena

Remember who you are. Remember you’re Lena Carr. Calvin’s words reverberated in my mind, blocking out the sound of laser gun fire and soldiers yelling and the roof cracking and the floor rumbling and Trent shouting in my ear to take cover.

Remember who you are. Remember you’re Lena Carr.

My fingers reached for the barcode, hovering. It stung. Not anything that would bring you to your knees. But enough for you to notice it. To be reminded. To never forget.

Remember who you are.

They’d tied me down. The machine they’d used had made a low buzzing sound, a thump-thump-thump in the background. The nails of the u-Pol officer who etched the tattoo had broken skin, digging in as he gripped my wrist as an extra precaution.

I’d been gagged. But my eyes hadn’t been blindfolded. I’d seen everything.

The harsh lights. The sharp needle. The ink dripping off the end. The sneer on the officer’s face.

“You should feel honoured,” he’d said in that crisp Anglisc. “These are not like your Zebra stripes.”

I’d growled at him. Shaken my head. Made menacing sounds behind the gag. He’d only laughed, touched the needle to my skin, and drawn the first line.

“This won’t come off,” he’d said cheerfully. “From this day forward, your life has changed. You have changed, Zebra.”

Another dip into the ink, a drip, a buzz, the burning scratch of the needle as it pricked my skin again and again and again. Over and over and over, too fast for my mind to comprehend.

“You are no longer Anglisc,” the officer had continued. “You are Outländer now. You serve the Füri.”

Remember you’re Lena Carr.

I shook the visceral memory from my mind, digging my fingernails into the barcode with relish. Pain lanced through my arm. Sounds sharpened. I blinked. The world came into clearer focus. Bodies lay strewn across the once pristine floor. The smell of chemicals burning and singed flesh wafted on the still air. Ragged pants and groans of pain sounded out all around us.

Cardinal Beck appeared, handing Trent a laser gun, soot marring his cheek, a burn mark across his chest; smouldering. No blood. I glanced down at my tattoo; there’d been no blood then, but I’d felt like I was bleeding. I’d felt like I was bleeding out.

A laser gun appeared before my eyes, Beck holding it. His gaze met mine; steady, neutral, constant.

“Well?” he asked. Trent watched on silently from the side. Cardinals moved around the hallway securing the enemy.

I’d somehow missed the fight.

I wouldn’t miss the next one.

Remember you’re Lena Carr.

My hand left the barcode tattoo on my arm and reached for the laser gun.

“Always ready, Cardinal,” I said.

He nodded his head. Shared a look of understanding with Trent, and then turned to his men, issuing orders.

“I love you,” Trent murmured, his words as thick as sweet nectar. “Fuck, I love you so much,” he added with a slow grin.

I shook my head, but I could feel the corners of my lips attempt a small smile. It was a little thing, but it meant a lot. It also scared me. I was so sure I would crack.

Remember who you are.

I sucked in steadying breath. Then another and another.

They might have marked me. Changed me in a purely physical manner.

But they had not stolen who I was.

Remember you’re Lena Carr.

Yes, Calvin. I’ll remember.

I sucked in a final fortifying breath of air and holstered the gun.

Trent nodded his head, seeing I was ready, and turned to Cardinal Beck.

“The Wiped?”

“God knows what they’ve been using them for, but I can’t see them keeping them in cells for the hell of it,” the Cardinal said in terse tones.

“Agreed.”

“He called me an Outländer,” I said, two sets of wide eyes landing on mine. “He said I served the Füri now. Have you heard of them?”

Cardinal Beck shook his head. Trent just scowled.

“Serving class. Stands to reason,” he said. “And if we’ve learned anything from our own history, those who warrant servants are most likely Elite.”

I let a disgruntled breath of air out.

Trent just smiled. “Baby, since when have you ever been a real Elite?”

I don’t think he could have said anything better.

“So where would their Elite be?” Cardinal Beck asked.

“Where all Elite tend to go,” I replied. They both stared at me. “Up.”

“Up?” they said in unison.

“The highest point in the city where they can laud it over those below.” Like the massively tall Quay Resort in Wánměi.

We might have been a nation that believed in equality of race, but we sure as hell hadn’t believed in an equal social order. We’d had castes, I doubted the Uripeans were any different. These Füries were the upper class. The Outländer the lowest. I’d been born Elite. I’d chosen to live amongst Citizens.

I knew exactly where we’d find them.

“We go up, then, “Trent said.

“Up,” Beck agreed.

“Lead on, Lena,” Trent added. “This is your fight now. But we’ll be right behind you.”

I looked around the hallway; more u-Pol would come soon. I would have liked time enough to hook into their Net, but we had to move out now or be trapped again. I walked to the closest u-Pol officer, crouched down, ignoring the wound that had killed him in his chest, and sifted through his pockets. Finding exactly what I needed, even if I couldn’t speak their language.

I pulled the vid-screen out and stood up. “We need Calvin,” I announced.

“Then we’ve got two things that are essential to success,” Beck offered.

“Find the Wiped,” Trent continued smoothly.

“And open the front gates,” the Cardinal finished for him.

At some stage these two had bonded. I would have smiled, if I didn’t think it an impossibility for me from this day onward.

The crack still threatened.

Remember you’re Lena Carr.

“We split up,” I ordered, shaking myself internally. “Cardinals to the gate. Trent and I to the Wiped.”

Neither man liked it, but aside from disgruntled looks and a stretched moment of silence, the order was accepted.

“We split up,” Trent growled.

“Agreed,” Beck ground back.

A huff of breath escaped me, dangerously close to a smile.

Remember who you are.

All right, Calvin. I’ve got this.

“Let’s move out,” I ordered, straightening my shoulders, stiffening my spine, lifting my chin. I may not have ever been a real Elite, but I sure as hell knew how to fake it. My father had made sure of that. He’d trained me to blend in, no matter where. Elite, Honourable, Citizen. It didn’t matter. I could make myself whatever I needed to be.

Today I needed to be strong.

We crept down the hallway in the prison block, the occasional unconscious or dead u-Pol officer slumped on the floor, the smell of laser-fire stinging our noses. Beck’s Cardinals had gone ahead and cleared the way; a well oiled machine designed to combat such situations. They moved in unison, their signals silent and precise. In moments we were out of the prison block and into the centre of the u-Pol structure itself.

Sirens sounded out, low and muted, but definitely there. The alarm had gone up, isolated from the prison block. Allowing their people to get out without us being aware. And also allowing their soldiers to set up a counter attack around the building proper.

“All exists are covered,” Cardinal Beck advised. “We take one step outside this place and we’ll be cut down.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Still dark,” Trent offered. “We’ve got about two hours of night left for cover.”

“That’s enough,” I murmured, moving toward the emergency stairs. A Cardinal stepped in front of me and checked the way was clear first. I wanted to smile. It was funny. Every single one of these big brutes had shifted into a protective overdrive.

But what I was about to do, I was born to do. The familiar calmed.

“We go up,” I announced.

“Shit,” Trent muttered.

“That’s a dead end,” Beck argued.

“That’s…” I said slowly, a mischievous glint in my eye, “a damn big sky.”

Beck looked at me as if I was mad. I reached out and patted his freak-suit placatingly, right over his shoulder, surreptitiously checking to make sure they hadn’t been forced to change clothes while I was at it. We blended in so well, even the u-Pol had not seen the need to correct our attire.

Cocky bastards just gave us an out.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Trent grumbled as we started climbing the stairs.

I didn’t answer, I was setting a fast pace. I could hear the rhythmic beat of the Cardinals’ boots on the steps behind me, the sound of their even breathing at my back, the echo of their freak-suits as the strange material chafed all around us.

Within minutes we’d made it to the top, my mind calculating the height of the building, frantically estimating if we’d have enough lift or not. A rush of air left me when I realised we’d not been underground at all, and the building was well within my normal safety parameters.

I’m not sure what I would have done had it not been. I’ve been forced to throw myself off lower than advisable roofs in the past. But I was experienced at base-jumping, I doubted these guys had ever used a wing-suit before now.

“They’ll be watching the exits and the first few floors,” I said as we came to the door leading to the rooftop. I stared the last barrier down, contemplating. “But this door will be alarmed,” I added, receiving several growls of agreement behind me. “So we won’t have much time once we’re out there.”

I turned to face all the men with me. Hard and stoic eyes met mine. I stood above them, on the highest tread, looking down on the men Tan had sent to help me. The men who had risked their own lives to follow me into Urip. Into Hammurg itself. I was about to ask them to do it again, risk their lives, and this time the stakes were high. Literally.

“What do we know about the layout of the city?” I asked Trent.

“From what we were able to see getting here, and our recollection of satellite images from Si, we’re pretty much slap bang in the middle. Their central police force’s main building.”

“Any idea of what’s around us?” I pressed.

I’d seen what they’d seen, but maybe they’d been more observant than me. At the time, I’d been utterly astonished. Hammurg had blossomed like a poisonous flower around us, flickers of dark alleys and bright lights flashing through the barred window of the van we’d travelled in. It had taken a good fifteen minutes from crossing the moat and entering the main gates of the city to reach the prison cells. Hammurg was large but the only vehicles on the road had been either u-Pol trucks or motorbikes.

“My men know the way back to the main gate,” Cardinal Beck offered. “We can trace our steps once we hit the ground.” He winced on those last words.

“Then you jump off the building in the direction you intend to run,” I advised. “We don’t have time to get lost on their narrow streets.”

“And us?” Trent asked.

My eyes met his, feeling something inside me settle. It only took a look, a small connection to even out my heart rate and make breathing that much easier. But it was priceless.

“We go in the opposite direction and hope we find the Füri and our Wiped.”

“Splitting up makes sense,” Beck agreed. “But we’ll also cause as much chaos as we can on our way to the gate, to draw attention away from you two. Perhaps if you manage to slip through without being spotted, you’ll have a better chance of surviving.” He could be brutally honest sometimes.

I didn’t mind. This was a life or death situation. And that was after we somersaulted off a sky-rise. We all needed to be reminded.

The urge to reach out and scratch the tattoo on my arm was excruciating. I bit my lip instead, tasting blood as my teeth broke flesh.

“OK,” Trent said. “Let’s do this.” He didn’t look at all happy about it. “Any last flight instructions, Lena?” he asked, and I could have sworn the Cardinals all leaned forward en masse.

I snorted. “Jump. Fall. Open your arms and then fly.”

“You’re a hoot, babe,” Trent said shaking his head. “A real laugh a minute.” He offered a wink, as if making sure I knew he was joking. As if scared I’d take the ribbing words to heart.

Was I so fragile to look at?

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the men.

“Body weight. Shift it.” I held my arms out, making the wings on my freak-suit snap out. Then rolled my body one way and then the other. “Like a plane.”

“We’ve never seen planes,” a Cardinal said quietly.

“You’ve seen fighter jets, haven’t you?” I demanded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then think jet.”

“Can I hold my laser gun?”

“Enough!” Beck snapped. “You have your orders. We’ll split right as soon as we exit this door. Jump in groups of two. Three seconds between. Spread out, but aim for the gates. And stick with your partner until you get there.”

He turned back to Trent and me, gave us each a long look, and then offered a short, sharp nod of his head. Spinning around, his hand reached for the door.

“Ready?” Beck said, not looking back.

“Ready!” his men replied, the word echoing off the low ceiling.

My eyes met Trent’s. It wasn’t just the alarm of the door that worried me. It was what would be waiting on the roof. These people had fighter jets. Could they have helicopters too? A helipad. Armed guards protecting it.

I pulled my laser gun. Trent mimicked my move in a heartbeat. Every single Cardinal snapped theirs free with relish.

“Think fighter jet,” someone muttered to themselves.

The corner of Trent’s eyes crinkled.

I smiled.

This is what I was good at. Acrobatic manoeuvres off skyscrapers into the night.

The door cranked open. An alarm blared up into the sky.

And then we were running…

Jumping…

And flying…

With laser gun lights firing from all sides.

Twenty-Two

Star Anise

Lena

The air hit me in a rush. Buffeting the flight-suit, jerking my arms taut, sucking the breath out of my lungs. My knuckles froze around the butt of the laser gun, as streaks of bright red light criss-crossed the dark sky. The sound of wind hurtling past my ears made it difficult to decipher sounds, but I swore I heard more than one Cardinal cry out.

I didn’t change the trajectory of my flight. I didn’t look over my shoulder. I kept my eyes glued to a point in the distance, between two tall buildings, and devoid of u-Pol flashing lights. It didn’t mean it would be completely free of danger, but it was the best I’d been able to do in the short amount of time provided.

The ground zoomed towards me; I knew I was coming in too hot. I arched my back, spread my arms to an excruciating angle, then lifted my feet as the ground rushed up and the wind whistled and streaks of dark buildings flashed by.

My boots hit concrete, then I was rolling, displacing as much of the impact as I could, before I came to rest several metres away, face first in a filthy gutter. It took more than a second for me to suck in a breath of air.

I rolled over onto my back immediately, feeling every bruise, every ache, and thankfully not finding anything broken. Then patted around for my laser gun. Trent landing a few metres away had me on my feet, and running towards him, forgetting the misplaced gun in favour of making sure he was all right.

I think he’d managed a better landing than me. And he still held his laser gun.

“OK?” he said, but he did seem a little disoriented. He staggered to his feet, lost his balance, took a step, and landed on his butt. Still holding that bloody laser gun.

Where was mine?

“Fine,” I said. “You sure you are?”

“Good. I’m good.”

I nodded my head, not believing him. He might have aced that landing, but flying off a tall building in nothing but a shiny lyrca/nylon flight-suit had rattled his brain and screwed with his mind. I’d always had a sneaky suspicion that Trent feared heights.

I snorted. Then heard voices.

“We’ve got to move.”

“Keep moving,” Trent replied. Not his usual conversational skills, but it would have to do for now. He didn’t look injured, just scrambled. Plus he had held onto his laser gun and was at least armed.

I glanced around the alley we were on, trying futilely to find my gun, but coming up blank.

“Damn it!” I muttered, grabbing Trent’s arm and hauling him off down the street, away from the voices and into the shadows.

A group of four Uripeans walked past, talking in rapid Teiamanisch, gesticulating wildly, their voices low and urgent; scared. I watched them, as Trent shook his head slowly from side to side, as if to dislodge water from his ears. Thankfully not making a sound.

They were marked. Like I was marked. Their sleeves short, exposing barcodes on their forearms. But it was more than that. The barcode stood out, only because it was isolated. Bare skin, at least five centimetre’s worth around the rectangle that identified them as belonging to Urip.

But that was the only part that was bare. The rest of them, almost all of them that I could see, was covered in black art. Skin art, Simon had called it. Permanent artwork inked into their skin. Some of it was words in Teiamanisch. Words that meant nothing to me. But some of it was made up of symbols. Signs. Equally as baffling apart from one thing. Crosses. Exes, one after the other, as if a tally. As if recording a score, and when it reached a certain number, a strange symbol was drawn.

In red.

I didn’t like that red. Every other tattoo had been black. The red stood out, as though it was meant to. As though it shouted. Look here! See this!

I watched as one of the Uripeans reached up and scratched at a red mark. His lips pressed in a thin line, his eyes narrowed, his face turned down. After a few swipes with his nails, he rested his hand over the red mark. Hiding it from sight.

Then his hand fisted and he drew it away.

The red marks were warnings. Punishments for committing a crime. Each time they transgressed, they received a black cross. When they reached a certain number, the exes were punctuated by the red mark.

Visible. Noticeable. Impossible to hide. They covered their faces. All down their necks and into the top of their freak-suits. Their sleeves were short. Very short. Exposing as much of their arms as possible. The u-Pol officers hadn’t had these extra tattoos or red marks. They’d also had long sleeves like us. Like Mikhail.

We’d based our clothes on his, in order to fit in. We’d unwittingly dressed ourselves as Elite. As the Füri.

Trent had stopped shaking his head, and was standing mutely beside me in the shadows, watching the Uripeans hustle by. His face was neutral, from what I could see in the low light. But his eyes blazed with outrage.

And then we heard it. Three words muttered defiantly. Immediately frowned upon by his companions. Something harsh and in Teiamanisch was growled. The one who’d uttered the three words shrugged. Hands fisted. Back bowed.

Defiant but scared. Angry but cowed.

“Fuck this shit!” he’d said.

Anglisc.

Trent looked at me. I looked at him. And then we were following behind the group, trying to hear, hoping, praying to hear, just one more word in our tongue. They had to be Wiped. They just had to be. Dressed dissimilar to the u-Pol and Mikhail. Marked in a way that suggested subjugation. Behaving in a manner that screamed… kowtowed. Subservient. Tyrannised.

If these were our people, they did have a modicum of freedom to roam the streets. But everywhere they’d go, Uripeans would know them for what and who they were. There was no escaping that fact. They wore it on their skin. A mask so much worse than Irdina’s had been. A mask of oppression greater than any worn in Wánměi.

I felt sick to my stomach. One barcode I could cover. A face full of exes was too much.

Swallowing bile, we followed silently behind our prey. Every step leading us deeper into the heart of Hammurg. The farther we got from the u-Pol building, the worse the condition of the streets. The buildings black with soot, leaning, cracked brickwork, uneven rooflines, chipped paint on windowsills. Tattered curtains pulled closed over broken glass. The smell of rubbish burning, chemicals and rotten vegetation, and something vile wafted on the air. I dreaded to think what.

Graffiti appeared when we turned a corner. A larger version of the red mark on the Wiped’s skin. A sign and a warning. We’d crossed a threshold. As soon as the Wiped in front of us saw that mark, their shoulders relaxed, their voices rose, and their words, still in Teiamanisch, sounded lighter, freer; if that was at all possible in this dark and dingy part of Hammurg.

I couldn’t believe that this was a forgotten part of the city, but I could believe it was one rarely visited by normal Uripean citizens. This was where they stashed their Wiped. The Wiped who worked for them as servants. The Wiped who wore their shame as skin art.

Wánměi had forgotten them, simply thrown them away when no longer needed.

Urip had chosen to use them, but at the same time make sure everyone remembered exactly who they were.

The lowest of the low. Beneath Elite and Honourable. Well down from Overseer and Cardinal. Lower, even, than Citizen.

I wondered what the Füri called them.

And then the group passed a building, no different from all the rest of the rubble here. Save for one thing. An emblem was painted on the wall beside the doorway, this one I recognised from signs we had in Wánměi to indicate a baby changing station in a public bathroom. An innocuous icon to welcome a feeding mother and her infant child.

This one didn’t seem welcoming. Standing outside the door was a drone, laser gun attached to its arm, helmet on its mechanical head, visor hiding camera lens eyes. Protecting its weakest spot; the unstable Shiloh chip embedded in its temple. As Trent and I halted in our tracks, hiding behind the corner of a building farther down the street, we watched the drone lift its gun arm and aim it at the group of Wiped passing by.

It didn’t fire. It didn’t need to. The message was clear. Move along. Don’t stop. Keep going. Nothing to see here.

The one who had spoken in Anglisc, surreptitiously searched the windows of the building from under his hooded eyes. Those with him gripped his suit, and pulled him faster along the street, silently out of sight.

We stood there, watching the drone return its laser gun to its former place, its camera lens eyes looking off in the direction of the Wiped, even though they’d long gone by now. It didn’t move. It didn’t shuffle. It showed no corruption, like that which we’d seen in Mikhail’s drone back on our island. It stood at attention, focused, alert, visor-shrouded mechanical eyes unreadable under the helmet on its head.

This whole area was for Wiped. Save this one building.

Simon had once recovered an old Overseer memo that shed light on certain things. It described our Wiped as having been sold to our trade partners for two reasons.

One. As workers.

Two. As breeders.

It was several long and disheartening minutes later that Trent and I circumnavigated the nursery and made our way in the general direction the Wiped group had gone. But we’d long lost them to the narrow lanes and crooked pathways. To the dark shadows and filthy overhangs. To the corner of Hammurg given over to the Wiped of Wánměi.

Eventually we took shelter in an abandoned building, watching the silent streets from behind ripped sheets, acting as curtains. The room smelled of rat faeces. Something scurried on tiny feet in the back proving just that thought. The soft scent of star anise and cinnamon wafted on the air, coming from behind the building we’d taken refuge in. Trying valiantly but futilely to cover the stench of urine.

“It’s been an hour already,” Trent said quietly at my side. “Beck will be approaching the gates.”

We were running out of time and hadn’t even found the Füri. If our plan had been scuttled, I dreaded to think what might have happened to Cardinal Beck’s. The laser-fire at the rooftop had been aimed at his men and not us.

He’d provided a distraction, as he’d said he would. One which had ensured Trent and I had landed safely. But I really wasn’t sure if he and his men had gotten off that rooftop alive.

Were they even approaching the main gate at all?

Were Irdina and Alan and the Merrikan soldiers waiting for nothing, just outside Hammurg’s walls?

“We might be on our own,” I offered, just as quietly as Trent had spoken.

“It’s possible,” he agreed, staring out the window into the slowly brightening night. “But we are not alone.”

I twisted to look over my shoulder at him, then searched the back of the dark room we were in, just to be sure.

Trent cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Don’t tell me, ‘we’ve got each other,’” I groused. He just smiled.

“That guy spoke Anglisc.” I felt my brow arch. My heart lurch. “These people might be Urip’s serving class now, but they once were Wánměi’s Wiped.”

“You want to approach them?” It had been the initial plan. But after seeing how different they were, not just in looks but character, we’d silently and mutually agreed to hang back.

The unspoken plan had then become “attack the Füri, provide a distraction when Cardinal Beck and his men broke open the main gate.” But we’d failed at that, as well. We’d not found any tall buildings, and certainly no Füri. And here we were in a broken corner of a very dark city. Hiding amongst the Wiped.

“We’ve got no choice,” Trent said softly. “They either help us or they don’t. But as soon as day arrives, hiding out in this city will become deadly. Not to mention the fact that Alan and the guys are waiting just outside. How long can Calvin fool the u-Pol with fake security updates from that outpost? Sooner or later they’ll send a replacement team. Shift change at dawn is my guess.”

We had an hour.

My nose twitched. That damn scent of star anise tickling my nostrils. Reminding me of Wáikěiton. I nodded my head. Sixty minutes and counting.

I pushed up from my crouch and started toward the back of the room.

“Where are you going?” Trent hissed behind me.

I almost said, “Home.” But I didn’t. This was so far from home, I wasn’t sure if they’d remember. If the people cooking their early morning meal in the house at the back of this one would remember where they had come from.

Wáikěiton. Or Little D’awa. Muhgah Keekee. Or Muhgah Foh. It didn’t matter. The subtle scent of their breakfast told me there was a chance. A small chance that they hadn’t forgotten us as quickly as we’d forgotten them.

I pushed through the back door of the apartment we’d been in and came out into a little courtyard. Washing hung up along a makeshift clothesline. Some of it that unusual holographic material of Urip. Some of it old rags, lovingly laundered. Herbs grew in pots along one wall. A small flower attempted to bloom in one of them. It was foreign. My heart skipped a beat.

The sounds of water running and pots banging came from inside the building across the courtyard. The window open to the early morning air. Steam wafted out around it, and on the clouds of superheated air I smelled it.

Star anise.

Trent moved up beside me, as we watched a young woman stirring something over a small gas hob. We could only see the back of her head. Already dressed in a freak-suit, ready for her day, she used chopsticks to toss noodles in a wok. Her black hair hung straight and limp down between her shoulders, once it would have gleamed. But no more.

She turned sideways to reach for something.

I sucked in a shocked breath of air.

“She’s pregnant,” Trent murmured, the words holding a wealth of agony and angst.

But that wasn’t why I’d gasped. Not the fear that she’d been impregnated by Urip in order to swell their numbers. That alone deserved our shock and rage.

But no. I’d gasped because I recognised her. Despite the change of clothes, the dull hair, the sad eyes, and burgeoning belly. I knew this girl.

I’d known her well.

I’d eaten at her table. I’d purchased services from her father. I’d visited them in their small, off-grid, two room apartment on Olive Grove.

Yeh Zhang Yong had been my IT go-to. When I needed something technical, he’d been my man. I’d paid him well. He’d welcomed my business.

Right up until the day he and his family had been wiped.

The girl’s eyes came up to the window, as if she’d sensed me watching and reminiscing there.

Our gazes met. Trent stiffened. I held my breath.

And she said, softly, clearly… in perfect Wáitaměi, “Papa. We have guests.”

Twenty-Three

This I Understood

Trent

The sound of synchronised boot steps thudded through the still air. The rhythmic beat seeping under the small gap in the open window. Yeh Zhang Yong sat quietly in his armchair across from me, a walking stick leaning tellingly against the wall at his side. He smiled. Took a sip from his steaming tea, and silently waited for the drones to march by.

Lena watched from behind the curtain across the front window; her body tense, her eyes narrowed, her breaths even. It was the second time in the past thirty minutes that drones had walked the Wiped’s streets.

“You have caused quite a stir,” the old man said in Anglisc. I noticed Lena relax visibly, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Until then, the man had barely said two words. What he had spoken had been in Wáitaměi. The change in language or the fact he was forming complete sentences meant something to the Elite.

I had to trust her judgement on this; I didn’t know her former IT guru. I just knew he and his family had been wiped moments after Lena had left their home in Muhgah Keekee.

No doubt another guilt she carried with her wherever she went.

“We’ve not exactly been stealthy,” I offered, taking a sip from my own jasmine tea.

“Why are you here?” Yeh asked. He purposely looked down at my bare forearm. “You’ve not been wiped.”

Lena rubbed her wrist under her freak-suit sleeve, but slowly shifted from the window and took a seat beside me. Yeh’s daughter moved around us silently, placing steam filled buns and spicy smelling noodles on the table before us. Lena thanked her in Wáitaměi, serving herself a bun and small portion of noodles.

She didn’t eat.

My eyes met Yeh’s, as he pulled them away from his heavily pregnant daughter. A wealth of sadness and regret flashed briefly in his dark gaze.

“Wánměi is free,” I said. The words seeming more weighty than usual. Maybe because these people had never been free.

Yeh nodded his head, leaning back in his chair contemplatively.

“Your father would have been proud.”

I’m not sure he could have surprised me more. He certainly had surprised Lena. She turned her head to look at me, an expression of wonder in her beautiful eyes.

“You knew him?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. Not easy when my heart had taken a jolt.

Yeh nodded. “I knew them both.”

“Both?” Lena asked.

“Mason Waters and Calvin Carstairs.” Fuck me. Yeh let out a chuckle. His daughter paused in what she was doing, watching her father with shadowed eyes. Eyes that would have shown shock, if they hadn’t been so injured.

Lena leaned forward and placed her uneaten bowl on the table. Her eyes met Yeh’s.

“You were part of the Uprising,” she said. “That’s how you hurt your legs.” She nodded at his wasted lower limbs; barely strong enough to hold the weight of the man, at a guess.

“Yes,” he said.

“But not part of the revolution,” I countered; I would have remembered him.

“No.”

“Working for Chew-wen?” I concluded.

“It would seem obvious, wouldn’t it? But no,” the old man said. “I only ever had one client. My aspirations not as lofty as some. My debts too… precarious to risk Overseer scrutiny.”

“Your wife,” Lena said, looking around the small hovel they called a home, then settling her gentle gaze back on the man. “Where is she, Citizen Yeh?”

A sense of resignation invaded the old man’s features. His wrinkled façade almost crumbling.

“Serenity was their ace up the sleeve,” he said. “They were so used to its value in trade. They forgot it was essential to some. Not all from Wáitaměi were as addicted as my Chuntao. But none from Urip are.” He smiled sadly. “It is an export only commodity.”

“She succumbed,” Lena whispered. Yeh nodded. The daughter made a soft sound from the kitchen. But that was the extent of their tears.

Yeh’s wife had been an addict, then. An addict without her fix and a husband with no means to get it.

“You traded your skills in Wánměi for Serenity Tabs,” I offered.

“Yes.”

“And who would pay you in like?” I asked.

Lena let out a long breath of air.

“My father.”

My head spun to look at her; she didn’t seem surprised.

“Did he at least offer you replicas?” she asked.

“It was too late by then.” Some addicts couldn’t survive on replicas. They needed the real thing. More expensive than the black market version; a travesty that made little sense. Yeh and his family had been backed into a corner. Serenity or insanity. He’d done what he had to, at a guess.

No one should judge.

I looked across the room to his daughter. She didn’t appear to be suffering from withdrawals. But then, they had been here long enough for her to be impregnated.

A topic we still hadn’t had the courage to broach.

“So you worked with Carstairs,” I said. “And Carstairs played both sides. The question is, which side did he have you play on?”

“I have paid for my sins, Citizen Masters. Have you?”

Well, that put me in my place, didn’t it?

“Citizen Yeh,” Lena said softly. “Where is your younger daughter? Your son?”

He smiled softly at the mention of his children. A father who had done, no doubt, unconscionable things in order to keep them alive. His failure at keeping his eldest daughter safe must have weighed on him. Tremendously.

“Hwei-ru is working a night shift at the Färi. She is a maid. Junjie should be home soon.” He glanced toward the window Lena had stood vigilance at only moments before, a small crease marring his brow.

Lena checked her watch. “Do the u-Pol change shifts at dawn?”

“Yes.” His eyes sharpened. “All shifts rotate every twelve hours. Hwei-ru has worked through the night.”

“And Jungie?” I asked.

“He is thankfully too young to be put to work.”

“And the drones?” Lena pressed. “Do they rotate out?”

“Why would they? They are Füri controlled. Their controllers change, but their drones do not need to return to base for that to transpire.”

“Then they’ve bypassed the absence of Shiloh,” I deduced.

“They have found a way to patch a leak, no more.”

I held the man’s steady gaze, something clicking into place for me.

“They are not aware of your skills,” I guessed.

He shook his head. “Those who had talents similar to mine were eliminated as soon as we arrived. My legs - or lack of usable legs - saved me. I am but a cripple in their eyes.”

“Shortsighted of them,” I said.

“Indeed. Shiloh had still been functioning when we arrived in Hammurg. They thought themselves rulers of the world.”

Mikhail had been incensed with the loss of Shiloh. Angered in such a way you had to ask, was it just shock or a bitterness that made his search for vengeance so vile? I was guessing Urip hadn’t realised the extent of Shiloh’s control, and when she fell, and their drones followed suit, they would have been riled.

Mikhail had been fucking riled.

Lena bit her bottom lip and then lifted her gaze to mine. I raised my eyebrows at her; this was her call. I didn’t think we had much choice in trusting the man, but I didn’t know him. And the fact that’d he’d worked with her duplicitous father made the waters a hell of a lot more murkier. But this was her call. She knew him. His children. His dead wife.

She turned her attention back to the man, holding his steady gaze for a long while.

“Citizen Yeh, are you happy?” It seemed a strange question, but really, it was all that mattered. The man was capable of playing hardball, even I could see that. And not afraid to get dirty doing it, either. But had he been beaten down too far? Or did he still have a rebel bone in that broken old body?

“What is happiness, Lena?” he asked in turn. “A roof over our head. Food in our stomachs.”

“That’s not an answer, Zhang Yong,” she shot back, taking the hand he’d given her and relaxing the formality in titles.

“No. It’s not.” His gaze shifted to his silent daughter, standing in the kitchen, hands clasped before her bulging belly, face tilted to the floor in submission.

“No,” he repeated. Stronger. Harder. “I am not happy.”

Lena reached into the pocket of her freak-suit and pulled out the vid-screen she’d stolen from one of the downed u-Pol officers back in the prison cells. She leaned forward slowly and placed it on the table between us. It was switched off, but a red light blinked rapidly in the corner of the device; indicating it was active.

“What have you done, little Lena?” Yeh said.

Fuck.

“Liling!” he said quickly. “Send the signal and bring me my bag.” His daughter rushed from the room as Yeh leaned forward and picked the vid-screen up. He pulled something out from beneath his armchair, flipped it open and then switched on both devices. His looked battered and chipped, the screen cracked, the casing scratched to hell. But it was obviously a vid-screen similar to the u-Pol’s. Maybe last year’s line?

Liling came back in the room carrying a small toolkit.

“It is done,” she whispered in Wáitaměi. The old man just grunted. He flipped the toolkit open, rummaged around inside, then pulled out a small, thin screwdriver. Somehow I thought even that innocuous tool was not allowed.

He broke the case open on the new vid-screen, did the same to the back of the old one, then connected them via wires. The screens lit up, scrolls and scrolls of code flashing before our eyes.

He’d started to sweat.

I wasn’t feeling much better. I looked toward Lena, a question in my eyes. She shrugged, her own eyes looking a little too large for her face just then. Something was happening and it didn’t take a genius to work it out.

We had unfortunately caused it. And I had a very bad feeling about that. I stood up and went to the window, not even realising I’d pulled my laser gun out. Liling’s eyes grew round, but she remained silent. I thought perhaps that was her go-to default setting. Not such a bad idea in fucked up Hammurg.

The door suddenly crashed open at the back of the house. I swung around with my laser gun up, the whine accentuating the tense silence of the house. Liling stepped in front of whomever had entered. Her hands up, placatingly.

I lowered the gun. But not my blood pressure.

We were up shit creek and it was about to get real fast.

Lena stood up and peered around Liling’s oversized body. A smile broke out on her face.

“Jungie,” she said in way of greeting.

A young Wáikěinese boy stepped out from behind his sister and smiled a gapped-tooth smile up at Lena.

“Quick,” Zhang Yong said, interrupting the reunion. The boy scampered to his father’s side. Yeh lifted up the u-Pol officer’s vid-screen and handed it to his boy. He looked into the child’s eyes for a suspended moment, something deep and meaningful and crazy heavy with love shared between them. “You know what to do.”

“Papa,” Liling protested. Yeh just clasped a hand on his son’s shoulder and whispered, “I wish you good luck,” in Wáitaměi. A saying I had heard spoken often in Wáikěiton. It carried new meaning here.

It meant so much more than just words. The boy wasn’t even ten, I’d guess. So young and about to lead the u-Pol on a merry chase around Hammurg.

I watched on silently as the child slipped the device into his shirt and ran out of the room. Swiftly. Quietly. A breeze in the air and nothing more. He’d rival Lena in stealth.

There was hope.

My eyes came back to Yeh’s. His looked heavy with worry.

He lifted the older vid-screen up, the one he’d just transferred screeds of written code to from the u-Pol device. And stared at us both; Lena and me. No one said a word.

And then a gong sounded out; in the distance, but close enough to indicated it had originated in this part of the city. On the streets of the Wiped.

“It has begun,” Yeh said.

“What has begun?” I asked.

His eyes swept off mine and landed on Lena.

“Revolution,” she whispered. Yeh nodded.

They’d been waiting for this. For a way in. For a way to fight back.

And we’d just handed it to them.

I looked at the vid-screen. I listened to the muted cries and rhymthic beat of drone feet out on the streets. A laser gun firing made me smile.

Revolution. This I understood. This I was good at.

I reached for Lena’s hand, squeezing her fingers tightly.

We had a battle to fight.

About fucking time.

Twenty-Four

Let’s Go Crash The Party

Lena

There’s something invigorating about a city coming together to fight. I understood what drove Trent now. Not just the reason behind rebellion. But the surge of adrenaline and the crescendo of hope. The chance at surviving.

The Wiped fought back. Not all of them armed with laser guns, but some of them were. And those who weren’t used whatever weapons they could cobble together. Clearly stashed away for just such a moment. Saved for the day the gong rang and Yeh Zhang Yong called for them to fight.

But fighting alone would never have been enough. They’d needed an edge. Like we’d needed an edge. They’d had the numbers, and God knew they’d been clearly training for this at night, but how did you fight drones and an army of u-Pol?

A loud clap of a jet flying overhead - supersonic sound - added to the cacophony of noise down on the streets. I feared they’d just fire on the section of the city that housed the Wiped. Erase them for good. Decimate them once and for all. But within minutes of the first jet flying overhead, the lights went out. The houses and roadways fell into darkness. A few precious minutes before the sun rose for us all to get out of the danger zone.

We took it. We ran with the Wiped beside us. Those armed leading the way. Others helping the infirm. Zhang Yong was shuttled in a large cart along with several women and babies picked up from the nursery. The drone guarding there already a smouldering heap when we’d arrived.

They had a plan. We were just along for the ride. For now, all we could do was fire when the Wiped fired. Run when they ran. Hide when they chose to hide. It was chaotic, but beautiful. The light that shone from their eyes so very different for what we had witnessed on the faces of the group of Wiped we’d first followed past the graffiti signs.

There was hope, but an equally as stunning, awe-inspiring look of power. They’d taken something back today. They were riding a wave. They were flying as high as a kite.

But the u-Pol fought back. The drones were relentless. Even as we left the streets of the Wiped neighbourhood, into an area that looked much better kept. Shutters were closed over well maintained buildings. Doors locked tight behind bars. The odd flash of drone eyes peeking out from behind shadows. Some fired. Some simply kept to their station, followed their commands to the letter.

These people had protection, but not all wars needed to be battled with guns.

“I’ve accessed their mainframe,” Zhang Yong called from his seat in the cart at Trent’s and my sides. “I can make it harder for them to navigate the city. Give them false signals. Disrupt their surveillance through various street-cams.”

“Can you access the drones?” Trent asked, barely puffed as he jogged beside the cart, offering the odd shot of laser light from his gun, here and there. We’d chosen to stick close to Zhang Yong and his daughters, Hwei-ru thankfully returning before we’d moved out. But little Jungie was still missing. A gaping hole in the family’s side, right next to the loss of their mother.

“They are more tricky,” Zhang Yong replied. “There are failsafes that even I cannot bypass.”

“But we can,” I said, meeting Trent’s eyes.

“How?” Yeh demanded.

“We need to get to the main gate,” Trent advised, firing a round of laser light at a drone on the roofline across from us. The drone fell forward, arcing slowly through the air, and landing in a crumpled heap at the base of a three storey building.

Another took its place, but someone else fired.

“It will be impossible to get that far,” Zhang Yong yelled above the gunfire.

We knew we were closing in on the u-Pol central building. The one in the middle of the city, closer than we’d been to the gate, but still a fair distance from where Alan and Simon would be waiting with Calvin and the Merrikan soldiers.

“We need to destroy the u-Pol building,” Zhang Yong added. “They run everything from there. Destroy that…”

And you brought down their means of control.

“They’ll have a back-up,” Trent shouted in reply.

“We’re dealing with that right now,” Zhang Yong yelled back.

They had planned this. But had they planned it well enough? The jets roared overhead again, so low we could feel the vibrations of their engines right down to our soles. I hunched my shoulders automatically, the blast of their afterburners almost too hot to bear. I thought we might just all burn to death; they didn’t need to fire.

“Can you stop them?” Trent shouted, looking up into the sky.

Yeh Zhang Yong shook his head. His fingers dancing over the old vid-screen as he bumped along the uneven road. Laser light flew over his head, but he ignored it. Women screaming in the cart next to him didn’t even reach his ears. Infants bawling and crying were blocked from his mind.

But I heard them. I heard them all.

For a surreal moment, I thought this was it. This was how it would all end. Calvin on the outside, so close, but not close enough. Us in the middle, surrounded by Wiped, fighting for our lives… and failing.

And then I saw them. And that fleeting thought became a drumbeat inside my mind.

A horde of u-Pol officers marched in orderly fashion down the double wide main road towards us. Reinforcements. Their laser guns were twice the size of those we carried. Their helmets covered their eyes, but a hardness was obvious in their posture. A determination in each measured step. Their legs lifted in front of them in unison; a synchronicity that was almost hypnotic, if not for the chill sensation their militant manner evoked.

They were as robotic as the drones. As numerous as them as well. So many. Too many. Even if we fought with every last ounce of strength we had, used up every last photon of laser light we possessed, resorted to our bare hands, it wouldn’t be enough.

I saw when Zhang Yong realised this fact. I watched as the same realisation washed over the zealous features of the Wiped. I watched as hope and power was extinguished.

I wanted to roar my frustration to the skies.

I looked up in numbed defeat and observed a jet approaching. Low. Fast. Menacing. I didn’t think. I just fired. My laser gun wasn’t strong enough, but other Wiped took up the same stance, offered their own futile rage to mine. The sky lit up in a dazzling display of laser light, the screams of anger emitted from those who wielded them just as loud as the sizzle of fire.

The jet swerved. Purely a human reaction. There was no way we would have made contact, but who doesn’t baulk when hundreds of laser lights blast into your path before your very eyes? It banked hard right. We kept on firing, but we saw it. The moment its wingman realised it was too close to avoid the panicking pilot.

The jets collided. A sound I never want to hear again rent the sky. An explosion followed, the ball of flames expanding to engulf a nearby jet as it roared by. A concussive boom sounded out. We all ducked. And then a shower of broken jet parts started falling from the sky.

The very orderly, until then, u-Pol officers scattered.

A cry of triumph rose up from the Wiped.

“We don’t have long,” Trent yelled at Zhang Yong. He held out his hand to my old friend. To someone who had known my father. Zhang Yong pulled the vid-screen closer to his chest, refusing to hand over his only weapon.

“Citizen Yeh,” I called. “Did you trust my father?”

His eyes widened, his mouth opened, and then he slowly shook his head.

I hadn’t expected any different. Even I hadn’t trusted him in the end.

I held the old man’s gaze, and said, “I am not my father.”

His eyes darted between Trent and me, and then scanned the chaos all around. We’d bought ourselves minutes at best, seconds most likely. But Zhang Yong had been right. There was no way we’d make it to the gate. It was too far.

In a cart.

“Give me the vid-screen, Zhang Yong,” I said steadily. “Trust me, if not my father.”

“He gave you something,” the old man guessed.

I wasn’t sure if I should acknowledge that, considering his mistrust of my dad. But Zhang Yong seemed to come to some conclusion, and then he reached forward and placed the cracked device in my hands.

“I wish you good luck, Lena Carr,” he said in Wáitaměi.

“I wish you good luck also,” I replied, taking the vid-screen and slipping it away in my pocket.

“Let’s do this,” Trent called out from my side. “Cover us, if you can,” he added for Zhang Yong.

The old man nodded. I took one last look at him and his daughters. At the Wiped who raged all around. At the women and their infants on that cart. An image I would never forget for the rest of my life.

We were fighting for a free world.

We were fighting to save our Wiped.

We were fighting for our lives.

I nodded my head, and then we were running.

And firing…

And dodging…

And diving…

And missing being hit by millimetres as we made it out of the square we’d come to and into the early morning light.

The streets were relatively empty farther away. The odd drone we managed to avoid, a u-Pol officer we shot down, citizens of Hammurg watching impotently from behind shuttered windows. But we knew the road. We knew the path leading out. It looked a little different, no longer covered in bars, no longer seen from the confines of a u-Pol van, but it was familiar. And open, if not welcoming.

And we raced down them, heading toward the main gates and Simon. Heading toward Calvin.

For a moment, I thought we’d make it.

For a moment, I thought we were home free.

But the gates appeared; tattered. The drawbridge over the moat raised and burned. And not a single rebel or Merrikan soldier to be seen.

A u-Pol van lay on its side near the entrance to the city. Drones crawled over the damaged gate, securing it. Officers with laser guns watched vigilantly from towers attached to the barbed-wire topped wall. Trent and I hid behind a shop awning, that had at some stage come down in the fight. And caught our breaths.

A pain started growing in my side, becoming more and more noticeable as my heart rate settled. At first I thought it was a stitch, but when I cupped it, I almost cried.

I looked down and noted the burned edges of my freak-suit, the gash in my skin, cauterised. I frantically reached into my front pocket and pulled out the old vid-screen, my heart in my throat, my breaths panting. Trent reached out and cupped the back of my neck with a warm palm when dark spots started to dance before my eyes.

The vid-screen was intact. Still scratched and beaten. But working.

I think I did cry.

“It’s OK,” he whispered, brushing his lips in amongst my hair. “But I think they’ve got Alan and the guys.”

I looked up into his pale face, and then followed the trajectory of his gaze, to where a body lay discarded in the middle of the road. He was wearing a freak-suit, not unlike the u-Pols’, but exactly like ours. His flight-suit wings were extended.

We hadn’t been sure who would need them when we’d designed the suits in Wánměi. We’d made certain everyone had them, though. Including Oja. Irdina’s fellow Masked. A D’awan who I’d never seen smile.

Well, he wouldn’t smile anymore, would he? His head lay at an odd angle, his eyes sightlessly staring up into the brightening sky.

“Fuck,” Trent muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He looked tired. Exhausted. Wrung out.

Death surrounded us, and it was calling out our names as well.

“Where would they take the rest?” I asked. “The u-Pol building is under attack, about to be raised to the ground.”

“There’s a chance they took them there before the Wiped made it.”

I shook my head. “The gate’s still smouldering. This happened in the past few minutes. No more.”

“Then we’re not far behind.” He reached forward and took the vid-screen out of my frozen hands, and powered it up.

It was all in Teiamanisch. A lack of foresight that would haunt us now.

“Fuck!” Trent growled, almost a little too loudly.

A sound made us spin on our heels, our lasers up, the whine of their electrics way too damn loud.

If we hadn’t been seen before, we’d be spotted for sure now.

A small tanned hand came out from the side of the building, and beckoned. I narrowed my eyes, shifted forward to see better, only to have Trent’s large palm land on my shoulder, holding me back.

“Jungie?” I called. A dishevelled head poked around the corner, wearing a beautiful big gap-toothed smile.

“Jungie!” Trent said, with way more enthusiasm than I would have liked. He was just a kid. He should have been with his father.

On second thought, that probably wasn’t the best right now. We could hear something exploding in the distance. Something that sounded suspiciously like a building collapsing in the middle of Hammurg itself.

I grimaced. Trent mirroring me. And then we were crawling towards the encouraging smile, while Jungie’s little hand frantically waved us onwards. Around the corner he sat on his haunches, dust coated, soot smeared, but thankfully not bloodied.

“Did you get rid of the vid-screen?” Trent wisely asked.

He nodded his head and looked at the one in Trent’s hand.

“Jungie,” I whispered, suddenly realising why Trent had been so happy to see him. “You don’t happen to read Teiamanisch, do you?”

Another gap-toothed smile and then a torrent of words that meant nothing.

“Wáitaměi,” I said quickly, and the young lad switched to his native tongue.

In Wánměi he’d spoken achingly correct Anglisc to me. But the time spent in Hammurg would have erased so much. There’s a limit to what a young man can assimilate. And Teiamanisch would have been vital.

But Yeh Zhang Yong was a traditionalist. At home, regardless of rules, Wáitaměi would have been spoken.

“I can read it,” he said in his father’s tongue. “What do you need?”

“We have friends,” Trent said in the same language. “They’ve been taken. We need to find them.”

“OK,” the little boy said, as if the task was simple. And as we watched him swipe the screen, tap in instructions, and delve deeper into Hammurg’s cyber-mind, it was obvious that Zhang Yong had taught his son more than just his old language. More than heritage. More than history.

He’d taught him to survive the only way Zhang Yong could.

“Here!” Jungie exclaimed, pointing to a flashing red dot on a map. “This is the Färi, where Hwei-ru works.”

“Is it tall?” Trent asked sardonically.

“Very,” the young boy replied, not noticing Trent’s drawl. “The tallest building in Hammurg.”

Trent turned to look at me. I raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Elite?” he said. “Let’s go crash the party.”

Twenty-Five

Well, That’s That

Trent

The Färi wasn’t as tall as we were used to in Wánměi. But it was tall for Hammurg. And well guarded. I rubbed a hand over my soot smeared face, and then scratched at my rat’s nest head of hair. Bits of plaster and dust floated down all around me. I scowled at it and then glanced up at Lena.

She looked remarkably good, even if her suit was damaged and a streak of soot marred the pale skin on her cheek. Her hair was still in relatively good order, blonde strands hanging straight down her back. Bright blue eyes dancing with anticipation. Soft lips parted, which she licked quickly now.

I reached forward without conscious thought and ran my thumb over the bottom one. Her eyes flicked to my face and she smiled.

How could she look so stunning in the middle of a war zone? How was she really mine?

I smiled back.

“There is a servants’ entrance,” Jungie announced, indicating where on the vid-screen. “Sometimes I wait for Hwei-ru to finish work at this door. She sneaks home little mints for me to eat. When she can.”

And risked getting an “X” inked into her skin. From the huge smile on the small lad’s face, the risk would no doubt have seemed worthwhile to his older sister. I wasn’t one to feel heartache easily, but I was sure that was what I was feeling now.

“Where would they hold prisoners?” Lena asked the boy.

He frowned, looked the blueprints over for the building, and then pointed to a section well away from the servants’ hall.

“They’d keep them contained. Apart from the Füri themselves, but also isolated from staff,” I said. “You never know who might rebel.”

“And the Elite wouldn’t want to see them at all,” Lena added.

“This floor is a long way from the servants’ area,” I commented.

“We’re not going in that way,” Lena announced.

“We’re not?”

She shook her head at me, and then learned forward to dust off my shoulder and flatten the creases in my suit.

“We’ll be using the front door.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered. “Have you seen the size of the guns on those drones?” I nodded towards the front entrance, which we could just make out from our hiding place.

“Hard to miss,” she quipped. “But you’re missing the point.”

“Which is?”

“We look Elite. Or, at least, we’re dressed like the Füri. And those are drones.”

“I know they’re drones, Lena. They’re fucking big and metallic.”

She sighed. “They’re also unstable.”

I glanced back at the drone manning the front door.

“It’s got a helmet on, we can’t attack its Shiloh chip without removing it.”

“That would defeat the purpose of waltzing in there as Elite.”

I narrowed my eyes at the woman. She was enjoying this.

“OK, I’ll bite,” I groused. “What’s your plan?”

“We confuse it. Or at least, we make the u-Pol officer operating it believe it’s confused.”

A slow smile started to spread my lips. It’d be risky. Not to mention difficult, considering we didn’t speak Teiamanisch. But it was classic Lena Carr. Walk in through the front door, holding your chin up high, and acting as if you belong there.

The funny thing is, Lena could do it. She’d done something similar a hundred times before.

But this was dangerous. More dangerous than the possibility of being wiped. This could mean our death.

I let a long breath of air out and turned to look down at Jungie.

“We need a quick lesson in Teiamanisch, kid. You up for it?”

I was beginning to really like that gap-toothed smile.

Jungie translated a couple of essential one-liners, and then we straightened our clothes, wiped off any tell-tale marks, and lifted our chins.

We made it half a dozen steps across the open square in front of the Färi before the drone raised his laser gun at us and shouted a warning.

It was a word we hadn’t asked Jungie to translate, but the tone said it all. Halt!

Lena and I froze; an instant reaction. And then the Elite in her clicked in.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, in the haughty tones of upper class Teiamanisch. “How dare you? Do you not know who I am?”

The drone’s laser gun didn’t lower, but the hesitation in reply said it all. Even Cardinals in Wánměi baulked at an irate Elite. It was no different in Urip.

“I have been shot at. Accosted. And now your drone is attempting to insult me.”

Lena on a rant was a thing of beauty. Lena ranting in Teiamanisch was wicked sexy.

“And look! Now the laser gun is powering up. Stop that! You cannot shoot me!”

The drone jolted where it stood. The helmeted head shifting so the u-Pol officer operating it could look down at the laser gun on its arm.

“Can you not control that thing?” Lena demanded, storming closer. She rapped stridently on the arm containing the laser gun, making sure the camera lens was focused on the barcode tattoo inside her forearm.

The drone’s head slowly rose to look Lena in the eye. It was definitely creepy.

“Stand aside!” Lena ordered. The last of her rehearsed Teiamanisch sentences.

This was it. If the drone started asking questions, we’d be in trouble. I knew Jungie had hung around to see if we made it inside. And I also knew he’d attempt to be a hero and come to our aid should it all turn to custard. But I was certain neither Lena nor I could stomach that.

My hand itched to draw my own laser gun, but getting in without raising an alarm was essential. Stealth was Lena’s forte. She might have become a rebel like me, but she’d always be better suited to the life of a cat-burglar.

A sexy as fuck cat-burglar, but that was beside the point.

The drone said something. It made absolutely no sense. But the laser gun had been lowered and the machine stepped aside, leaving a clear path through the front door of the Färi. Lena nodded her head regally, swept past the metallic monster, and strode inside.

I relaxed my tight fist, stretched my fingers above my laser gun, and followed.

The door closed behind us with a muted click. The drone didn’t follow.

We immediately made our way to the emergency stairs, avoiding the lifts. The building was old, like most of Hammurg was. Stone floors, thick walls, and warped windows. Light filtered in through stained glass, casting the stairwell treads in reds and blues and yellows. We’d decided not to pull our laser guns, in case we met traffic. Acting Elite was the better course for now. But no one used the stairs and in short order we reached the floor where the captives were held.

Leaning back against the wall of the stairwell, we watched through a tiny gap in the doorway as u-Pol, not drones, marched down the hall.

“What now?” I asked, my hand resting above the laser gun.

“Now we do it your way,” Lena said with a soft smile.

My eyes met hers, as I let the door slowly and quietly close beside us, and then I took the steps necessary to be at her side.

“There’s a lot of them,” I pointed out. “And only two of us.”

I longed to touch her. To hold her. To kiss her one last time.

I held back. This was hardly the time to get amorous.

Lena drew her laser gun and power it up. So fucking sexy.

“When has that ever stopped you, Trent?” she asked.

I knew she was referring to the fact we were outnumbered, but in that moment my mind was fixated on something else. Fixated on the only thing that mattered.

I reached forward, wrapped a hand around her hair at her nape, and tilted her head, lifting her lips to mine. The kiss was hot and hard and conveyed everything I wanted to say but was too scared to. I devoured her mouth, tasting heaven. I nibbled and bit her lips, soothing the sting with a lick of my tongue. I lost myself in her touch, in her scent. In Lena. She held on, kissing me back with equal desire.

We drew apart slowly, gasping for breath as I leaned my forehead against hers.

“I love you, baby,” I whispered. She made a small noise. If I didn’t know Lena better, I would have thought it was a sob. It had sounded a little like I was saying goodbye.

“I love you too,” she murmured, reaching up and softly brushing her lips against mine. We pulled apart, looking less Elite now than ever. She smiled, a truly magnificent and stunning smile. Then said, “Don’t die.”

I snorted. Drew my laser gun, fired it up, and reached for the door handle.

“Not a chance,” I drawled. “You’re gonna finish what you just started.”

She smirked, let her eyes coast over my body eagerly, and then back up to my lips.

“Sounds like a plan,” she quipped.

“There, see? Now we know what we’re doing. Shoot to kill. Free our guys. Load up Calvin. And then make out afterwards. It’s practically a done deal.”

An arched brow was my only reply.

I took one last look at the woman who had stolen every decent part of me. The woman I strove to be better for. The woman I loved with all of my heart. Lena was an extraordinary creature. One that called people to her. Made them risk life and limb to do what was right. She was everything I pictured our future to be.

Lena was life.

The weight of what we were about to do came crashing down on me. I paused. Lena reached forward and cupped her hand over mine.

“For the better of the people,” she said.

“For the future of Wánměi,” I replied. Wánměi might just be one nation, but what it stood for was so much more.

I nodded my head. Lena reciprocated.

And then we through the door and firing.

Laser lights arcing through the air. Screams and shouts sounding out as plaster cracked and bricks flew apart, sharp shards flying into our eyes. We ducked and rolled, separating as soon as we came through the doorway. Covering both sides of the hallway. Laser touting u-Pol were everywhere, but for a few seconds we’d caught them well and truly off guard.

A few precious seconds where we managed to cut a swathe of damage through their ranks.

But they rallied. The smell of chemicals burning and plastic melting met my nose. A sharp sting of pain lanced across my shoulder. I kept firing. Smoke wafted up all around us, making it hard to see what we were shooting at. But I knew Lena was off to my right, and the guards still firing doggedly at us were straight ahead. So I kept firing.

The laser guns heated up as the seconds ticked by. But there was no chance of allowing them to cool in between bouts of fire. I crawled forward, shouting a command to Lena, hoping with all of my frantically beating heart that she’d comply.

Inch by inch we covered more ground, checking our periphery as we came to open doors. There was no sign of our guys. The minutes ticked by slowly, even though we were caught in a maelstrom of laser light. And as we both swapped out our burned laser guns for new ones, pilfered off fallen u-Poll officers, I began to wonder if this had been a wild goose chase. If we’d blasted our way into a heavily armed floor of the Färi for no real reason at all.

But then I heard them. Shouting. Egging us on. Screaming in Anglisc, so different from the harshly spoken words being hurled at us by the u-Pol. And then a siren started up, blocking out their encouragement, making my heart race faster; time was running out.

I spun and fired down the hall behind us, unsure if we were being flanked or not. But the sirens had caused a spot between my shoulder blades to start itching. That stairwell had been unlocked; it had no keypad to destroy, preventing further access. Anyone could barge through behind us. The only security they seemed to have up here were cameras mounted on the ceiling, laser wielding u-Pol guards, and whatever cell-like structure they had our men contained in.

I picked up another laser gun from a downed officer, firing two at once. Sweat dripped into my eyes, my breaths were coming in ragged pants. That sting on my shoulder had turned into a numbness. My arm progressively becoming heavier, until it was obvious that some of the guards carried Mikhail’s kind of gun.

“Watch for the laser light,” I shouted at Lena, which was a ridiculous thing to say, considering. “It’s a paralytic.”

I couldn’t see her, but I knew she’d been firing. It was only in that second, when I’d called the warning out, that I realised she’d stopped shooting back.

“Lena?”

“Too late,” I think she said. “I already know,” she managed to mumble.

I’m not sure what happened next. But I knew alone I couldn’t hold them back. The thought of Lena lying on the floor of this God forsaken building, in this God forsaken city, having been shot by these God forsaken bastards, made me mad.

I saw red.

A haze of crimson covered my eyes. It could have been blood. It was more likely sweat. These efficient arsehole cauterised.

A rumble of something anguished and primal swept up from deep down inside. I opened my mouth, a roar of defiance and anger spilling out. I started shooting that motherfucking laser gun like there was no tomorrow. And without Lena, there quite possible wasn’t.

I raged.

I screamed.

I shot at every single thing that moved and some that didn’t.

When my laser blitzed out, I grabbed another.

When my right arm lost all feeling, I didn’t stop. I fired harder. Faster.

When my gun faltered and a u-Pol officer took the opportunity to jump me. I beat him to a pulp with one hand.

In the end, it was a blood bath. Cauterising laser guns had no chance.

Red was red, after all.

I was too scared to move farther away from where I knew Lena was lying. I’d shift perhaps a metre or two, to swap out guns, but I’d retreat to cover her limp body. I couldn’t make myself go further. I couldn’t leave her. Even though I heard my father’s voice inside my mind, telling me to move. To find support. To free my men. To get backup.

To be a fucking man!

Every single intelligent thought vanished. I was a crazed animal defending his mate.

It would have ended there, I’ve no doubt. I was down to one gun, and it had already started blistering my fingers. The smell of electrical wires burning had started to make me lightheaded. Or that could have been the yelling.

My throat was raw. My eyes were puffy. My vision blurring.

But I saw it. The shadow. The swift feet and silent movements. The stealth that reminded me of Lena.

A gap-toothed smiled flashed in amongst the clouds of laser-fire, and then he was gone.

I stopped firing. I took a couple of hits.

But nothing could make me shoot over Jungie.

With my last strength, I crawled to where I could see Lena lying. A dark bundle of freak-suit, blending into the environment. In a detached kind of way, I admired its camouflaging properties.

My hand reached hers. She didn’t grip me back. I felt like crying.

And then a shout sounded out, and the laser lights shifted direction, and peace reigned in our little section of the hall.

“It’s OK,” I said. “It’s gonna be OK,” I added.

For the first time in a long time, I lied.

And as I flopped onto my back, expecting a drone to arrive any minute, I stared up at the ceiling, noticing for the first time the mosaic artwork that covered every inch of space above our heads. It was beautiful. So stunning. So realistic. Almost as though the picture was alive.

How could such beauty exist in amongst such evil?

How could Urip sustain this reign of terror under such miraculous artwork?

I think it was heaven.

And then an angel appeared. Floating above me. Moving in a way mosaics just shouldn’t.

“‘Bout time, boss,” Si said. “Now, have you got something for me?”

I started laughing, but this was by no means a happy moment.

“Lena,” I croaked.

Si moved sideways, freeing up a fuzzy image of Alan standing behind him; laser gun charged and ready, eyes narrowed and alert, his finger prepped to fire.

Beside him, shoulder to shoulder, stood Irdina. Her back to me, her gun aimed at something else, as if she was protecting me like my brother.

Alan wasn’t really my brother, but he might as well be. And if he wanted that crazy Masked bitch, then so be it. I wouldn’t yank his chain or anything.

I suppressed the maniacal laughter.

“Got it!” Si said. Then met my eyes. “She’s fine. Just out of it. But our Zebra protected the vid-screen.”

“Haven’t they got cyber access here?” I asked, the words sounding hollow and a little bit wonky.

“Clever arseholes shut down everything,” Si explained. “That’s why they left Calvin with us.”

I saw him pull out the Shiloh unit and attach some wires. I forced myself to wake up, dragging my body closer to Lena. She should see this. She should be the one to hit the button.

Si crouched down in front of us, the device attached, the cursor flashing.

“Lena…” I managed to growl.

Si flicked his gaze over Lena’s slumped body.

“You’ve got this, boss,” he murmured. “Besides, does she really need to be the one who silences him forever?”

He was right. Calvin would do what Carstairs had designed him to do, and then shut down. Because Carstairs wasn’t stupid. Not by a long shot. He’d paid for his mistakes and he’d finally learned his lesson.

He’d evolved.

And if he could, we could. But it wouldn’t be easy. The Dark Ages weren’t.

“You sure about this?” I asked. Alan looked over his shoulder, his eyes met mine.

“It’s gonna be a challenge,” he growled in his customary fashion, “but when have we ever baulked at that?”

“Anyway,” Si added, “like Lena said, there’ll be more to this programme than just an off switch.”

Great. Exactly what we needed. A surprise.

Lena stirred. I reached out and stroked a hand down her arm, feeling the tingles start to race through my limp fingers.

“She’s coming around,” Si said. “Do you want to wait?”

I looked down at my Elite. Looked across at the Shiloh.

Calvin remained silent.

My hand found Lena’s. She squeezed it back. I let out a sigh.

Then hit the enter button on the vid-screen, by the flashing cursor, Lena’s hand held tightly in mine.

It took sixty long, torturous seconds. Sixty long, torturous seconds in which Alan and Irdina, Beck and his men, and what was left of the Merrikan soldiers, were forced to return fire.

When the vid-screen went blank, and Calvin’s Shiloh unit stopped blinking its little green light, the city went dark.

Not true dark, it was still morning.

But the kind of dark we had forgotten about. The kind of dark we’d not trained for. The kind of dark lost to the annals of history.

The kind of dark that levelled us all out.

Because if there wasn’t technology to fight over, if there wasn’t one nation better than the rest, then what was left?

Maybe not true equality, human nature is funny like that. But at least a platform to build on. A place to start.

“Well, that’s that,” I said. The silence was almost deafening. “Now, let’s make friends with Urip.”

Alan snorted. Irdina scowled. Si shook his head.

And Lena, my precious, perfect, beautiful Lena, just smiled.

Epilogue

Lena

It wasn’t completely dark. My father had seen to that. There were some aspects of technology that were essential. Like electricity. And running water. The ship still worked. So did shortwave radio. That last one had us puzzled, because it seemed a little too close to the Global Net. But radar failed. And satellite images were out. And laser guns, strangely, powered down.

The selective programming had Simon scratching his head for days.

But at the time of Urip falling - and it did fall, without drones its power base was weakened beyond measure - an uneasy truce was made. The leading Füri showed themselves when their own Elite started to raise bloody hell. Elite the world over have an intolerance to anything substandard. And post Calvin’s dramatic crashing of the world’s technology, standards were definitely below par.

They crawled out of their bunkers to a city in ruins. The Wiped having taken control of the streets, ruling it in a style a little too close to vigilante for my like. But with a pledge from the Wiped that they’d retreat, and a few heated but promising discussions between Trent and their main Füri himself, it was decided we’d all pull back and assess the damage.

But like Trent said, that would take a while.

We knew where Urip was. They knew where we were. We’d landed them a blow. We weren’t sure if it was the last we’d hear from them, but their jets were landlocked, and their ships no greater than ours.

And neither of us had drones.

I wasn’t certain, but I thought perhaps enough had been done for now.

The Lunnoners reunion with their Lost was hard to witness. But our Wiped helped ease the pain. They understood. We did too. We may not have been wiped ourselves, but we’d shared their pain.

And we would always remember.

There was no avoiding that. Calvin had crashed the Net. No vid-screen worked. But before he’d executed that last command, he’d printed out screeds of downloaded history, on any available printer with paper attached.

In a post apocalyptic world, there hadn’t been much. But we found some in Hammurg, before we went on our way. And we found some in Lunnon, when we stopped for a last farewell to the broken city that had at one time been so like our own. And we found them when we returned to Wánměi.

His last gift to us.

Our city celebrated for a full week, once we finally made it back using the stars. The Wiped reunited with friends. The Merrikans joining our party, as if it was their own. We even extended a personal invitation to Mahiah.

Solidarity. That’s what my father had wanted. A world free to come together, none greater than the other, all capable of friendship and love.

I missed him more that first week, than I’d missed him for the past ten years.

And the hole in our wall where the Shiloh unit, where Calvin, used to be haunted me.

I was standing in front of it when Trent found me. Ten days after we’d finally made it home.

“There you are,” he said, sauntering into the kitchen as though on top of the world. The heat of a Wánměi night wafted in through the windows behind him. We might have had electricity, but we’d started to conserve. Air conditioners were strictly monitored. Although how Si managed that, I didn’t ask.

Conservation and consideration were Wánměi’s new motto. Conserving our planet and considering our neighbours, both near and far.

Trent walked up to me and wrapped his arms around my body, blocking my view of Calvin’s empty slot.

“I’ve got a surprise,” he said on a whisper. “I think you should come see it.”

“A surprise?” I said, twisting the engagement ring on my left hand. He’d showered me with surprises since we’d left Hammurg, as though scared I’d disappear if he blinked.

I understood. It had been close. We’d both been hit by lasers, but I’d been shot to hell and back.

I still had nightmares. Trent still had to reassure me that laser guns were gone from this world.

Nothing’s perfect. But we were free. The Wiped were free. And Lunnon’s Lost had found a new home. Geh Dowee had never looked better. The old oil refinery still stood sentinel over it, but the abandoned factories were being remodelled into homes, and the streets were starting to team with people.

We had the room. We welcomed them. And it had nothing to do with a debt paid.

This was us. This was Wánměi.

“Come on,” Trent urged, slipping his hand into mine. Our fingers entwined. “I worked so hard on this,” he complained. “Don’t spoil it.”

“I won’t,” I promised as I followed him up the spiral stairs to our bedroom.

I thought we’d stop there, the room was covered in lit candles. The bed a riot of red petals scattered over white damask. I could smell their perfume, mixed with the scents of night time Wánměi. Garlic and cardamon. Star anise and cinnamon. Chilli. Lime. And the sea.

So fresh. So beautiful. So mouthwatering.

But Trent led me past the beckoning bed and out the window onto our roof.

Our deck was draped in gauzy fabric, the pillows beneath laid out in a sumptuous welcoming pile. Tiki lights flared all around. The brazier glowed softly off to the side. A bucket of ice stood next to the cushions, under the rain cover, sheltering us from the night. Trent walked backwards, still holding my hand, his eyes on mine, his lips tipped up in a crooked smile.

He stopped by the Champagne.

“Where did you get this?” I asked on a breath of air. It was a good surprise. We still traded with Merrika. And now Mahiah. But our Champagne had come from Urip.

“I bribed someone. Paid a fortune for their last stash.” He shrugged his shoulders, hands now deep in pockets, a look of uncertainty on his face.

“A bribe, huh?” I mused. “What kind of bribe?”

“The sort that costs a lot.”

“Hmm-mmm.”

“Are we gonna celebrate, or are we gonna argue, Elite?”

I scoffed. “There’s no such thing as Elite anymore.”

“No,” he said softly. “But to me, you are perfect. You are above all the rest.”

I held his steady gaze. There’d be no changing him. Trent Masters would always treat me as if I was a princess. He’d always look up, and never, ever look down.

It wasn’t a stigma on his own standing, on who he was. It just was. He loved me. He adored me. Just the way I was.

And no one could come close in his eyes.

“OK,” I said, lowering myself to the cushions. “What are we celebrating?”

“Us.”

“To us!” I offered, as he handed me my flute, the golden liquid bubbling. It tickled my nose when I sipped it, the fruity bouquet a sad reminder of what we’d lost.

But we’d gained so much more, hadn’t we?

We’d gained our freedom.

We’d always known that freedom would cost. And it had. Significantly. So many dead. So many we couldn’t save. And still we had a long way to go before the world was whole again.

Trent leaned back on his cushions, staring up into the night sky, completely content.

“You know, it’s not so bad,” he said.

“What’s not so bad?”

“This no Net thing. No vid-screens to look at. No cellphones to talk on. I actually had a conversation with a man at the market today. Face to face. Can you imagine?”

I snorted. Champagne bubbled up my nose.

“Very attractive, Lena,” Trent teased.

“Thanks. I do try,” I managed before I laughed.

Trent smiled, taking another sip of wine, watching me.

“What now?” he said.

“Well,” I started, placing my glass on the deck at my side. I shifted closer. “I’ve got an idea.” I started running my finger up his bare arm, grazing his skin lightly. Goosebumps followed my nail. Trent shivered.

“Cold?” I teased.

“Hardly,” he rasped.

“Then kiss me.”

He groaned as his glass toppled over sideways and his hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back, exposing my lips for his plundering. He ravished me. I basked in it. The clouds moved in to cover us, as the stars winked out of sight. And thunder boomed across the night sky.

“I love you,” he murmured into my neck. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Heavy drops of rain landed one by one across the deck, moving closer.

My shirt came off.

“Trent.”

Slick skin against slick skin, he licked his way across my stomach. My hands finding his hair, holding on tight. In a quick, subtle move, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, a soft touch of his lips as he kissed my barcode.

“Mine,” he said. He never failed to remind me. He never avoided the tattoo or shied from pointing it out.

I wasn’t over it. But little by little, bit by tender bit, Trent was making it something else.

The pride in his voice when he rasped “Mine” said it all.

You bore this. You wear it every single day. And you are still mine.

My hair had been a rebellion. The black and wipe stripes a way to fight back.

The barcode was my badge of honour.

“Wear it with pride, baby,” he whispered. “Never forget who you are.”

The air grew heavy as the clouds opened up and rain poured down. Sweet sweat coated our skins as our bodies melded. Fitting together as though made for each other. I gasped when he entered me. He growled when I bit into his shoulder. Our movements so fluid and more magical than time. Our breaths and heartbeats as one.

I came in a flash of lightning. Trent groaned out my name to the sound of thunder.

“Storm sex,” he panted. “My favourite.”

“I thought… morning sex… was,” I panted back.

“Mmm, I’m not sure. Might have to test that theory tomorrow.”

I started laughing as he drew a blanket over us, the rain moving on as if it had achieved what it set out to do.

“I love you,” I whispered into the night. Trent grunted in return, snuggled in closer, holding me tightly, and then started to gently snore.

I was suppressing a chortle when I heard it, the soft tap of knuckles on wood at the door.

I squeezed out from beneath Trent’s heavy arm, made sure he was covered, and then quickly dressed. By the time I was downstairs in our apartment, I looked relatively decent. If you didn’t notice the smeared makeup, crooked buttons, and small love bite on the side of my neck.

I smiled to myself as I opened the door.

Cardinal Beck stood in the hallway, dressed in his formal Cardinal uniform; red cloak, cream suit, polished brass buttons.

“Cardinal,” I said in way of greeting, and ushered him through the door.

“Good evening, Lena,” the Cardinal replied. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

He knew he was, if the small smirk that graced his lips could be trusted. I was unused to his more relaxed manner, sometimes I forgot he was actually a man.

“I have news…” he started.

“For Trent?” I asked, holding out my hand.

The Cardinal hesitated, as if I wasn’t part of the rebel army. I had earned my spot.

“I think I can take it to him, Beck,” I offered. “I promise I won’t let any secrets slip, whatever they are.”

“It’s on official letterhead, Lena. You haven’t been sworn in.”

“Sworn in?”

Cardinal Beck suddenly looked uneasy, and then he thrust the paper into my hands as if it was too hot.

I watched him closely for a long moment, and then broke the seal on the letter and unfolded it.

The first thing I noticed was it was addressed to the president.

The second was what it was about.

“A signal?” I said. “What signal?”

“It seems Calvin sent a signal out via shortwave radio. Set to repeat from one to the other, until it covered the entire world. He managed it, just before the Shiloh unit shut everything down. An invitation. To peace. To unity.” Beck shifted on his feet. “Basically, he invited any survivors out there to come to Wánměi. Even gave directions. By the stars, of course.” Beck chuckled, as if this was funny. I wasn’t sure what to make of it yet. “It was the last piece of your father’s puzzle,” he went on. “The last part of the programme that was designed to bring about a form of solidarity.”

“His dream,” I murmured, shifting to sit on the couch. I wasn’t sure my legs could hold me.

“His promise to you,” Cardinal Beck advised. “His last gift to a broken world.”

I smiled. Looked down at the letter again, the words before me momentarily blurring.

“So they’ll come,” I whispered.

“And we’ll be ready. Mahiah has already agreed to accommodate any we cannot take. And the Merrikan representative has advised he’ll make contact with their leaders and gain a similar agreement from them.”

Beck moved forward to stand before me; he would never sit down unless asked. I should have offered, but my mind was reeling. My father had done it.

He’d corrected his mistakes. He’d redeemed himself.

“We are but a small island,” Beck said. “But we are a great people. Now led by a great…”

“Beck!” Trent suddenly said from the mezzanine floor. “I didn’t hear you arrive.”

“Trent,” I said enthusiastically, standing up, about to tell him about the letter. The good news. The start of a united world.

We were free. We were mending.

Thank God.

But the Cardinal spoke over me, drowning out what I might have said, as Trent started scowling, and then his eyes darted to mine and he cringed instead.

“President Masters,” Beck greeted, standing to attention, clicking his heels together like so many Cardinals sometimes still did.

“President Masters?” I said slowly, the letter getting forgotten in my fist.

“Now, baby. I can explain.”

“President Masters?”

“Ah,” Beck said. “Maybe I should leave?”

“It’s his fault!” Trent all but yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the Cardinal.

Beck looked like he’d just been sent to the gallows. He swallowed painfully, his eyes slowly rising to meet mine.

“I thought it a fair trade,” he murmured.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

Beck shrugged. So did Trent. They kind of did it together. As one.

My hands met my hips.

“What trade?” I demanded.

“Champagne is hard to get, you know,” Beck argued sullenly. “It was my last bottle!”

My eyes met Trent’s. He offered a small, crooked smile.

Typical.

He’d been the leader of a rebel army. He’d freed not only Wánměi but the world.

He’d almost died trying to protect me.

Not once. But many times now.

And he’d traded his anonymity and what would no doubt be a large part of himself for a bottle of sparkling wine.

“It was a celebration,” Trent groused.

“For us,” I whispered. He smiled.

How could I be mad when I was so very proud?

“For us,” Trent whispered back, taking the last few steps to reach me.

I didn’t hear Beck leaving. I didn’t hear anything else.

Just Trent and how much he loved me, and my own fervent words of requited love.

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