25.

Rogue

Dax remains uncharacteristically silent as he leads us down the dimly lit corridor. We’re still in Sub-Level D, hemmed in on both sides by two columns of Enforcers. I glance at Astrid, trying to read her expression. If she’s frightened, she’s not showing any outward sign.

“Where are you taking us?” she demands.

“Detention wing,” Dax answers without looking at her. “Don’t want to keep your friends waiting.”

So Vin, Brenne and Ferro have been arrested too? “But why?” I protest. “They haven’t done anything wrong!”

Dax stops and pivots toward me, his once harmless grin now laced with menace. “And what about you, Wilmington? Have you done something wrong?”

I answer him with my best ‘drop-dead’ scowl, wondering how I could have been such a terrible judge of character. Vin was right, as usual. What a total snake.

“Nothing to say?” He raises an eyebrow.  “Oh, well. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to talk later.”

Turns out the detention wing of York Command is located just a few hundred yards away from the generator room. When we reach our destination, Dax and the Enforcers march us into a fenced concrete cell, where we find Vin, Brenne and Ferro waiting.

There’s no time for a reunion. Before we get a chance to talk, Commander Bridges bursts into the room, looking like he’s just undergone a painful tooth extraction. Probably just finished a vidlink session with the Prime Asshole himself.

He stops in front of Astrid and rakes a hand through his hair. When he finally speaks, his strained words confirm my worst fear.

“The Aletheians won’t be coming for you. We raided their camp last night and took no survivors.”

Astrid nods, like she’s been expecting this news. “Congratulations on a glorious victory, sir. Now would you like to explain why we’ve been arrested? Did you give the order?”

The Commander shifts his weight uncomfortably and I almost feel sorry for the guy. Once again, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. “No,” he mumbles. “The order came from our new Prime Founder. As you may already know, Miss Blake, your father resigned yesterday.”

She gives him a look that could boil water. “You mean he was ousted in an illegal coup. Tell me: where does your allegiance lie, Commander? With the Council and my father, or are you one of Cillian Gant’s bleeding traitors?”

Dax inserts himself between her and Bridges. “Easy now. The Commander’s just following orders. You’re the ones who decided to play with terrorists.”

“Play?” Astrid fumes. “Is that what you call being captured and then threatened with execution?”

She gets right in Dax’s face, prompting the Enforcers to unsheathe their lightning sticks, but he waves them off.

“Let’s cool the temperature down a bit, Sunshine,” he says, backing away from her. “Here’s what we know: five days ago, you sent out a homing signal from the observation deck. Then came all this terrorist chatter about some extraction mission. We traced one of these transmissions to a terrorist named Rogue, and when we captured him, he told us all about your planned treason.”

I’m about to call him a lying bastard but Ferro beats me to it. 

“Insolent swine!” he shouts, cheeks all puffed out and crimson. “How dare you throw these outrageous accusations at the Prime Founder’s daughter! And how dare you treat us like criminals! When our parents –”

“Your parents have sworn allegiance to the new Prime Founder,” Dax cuts in with a cold edge to his voice. “Unless, of course…” He turns to Astrid. “They’ve already been arrested as traitors.”

Not the right thing to say. Before any of us can stop her, Astrid unloads a right hook into his jaw, snapping his head back.

The Enforcers react instantly, swarming her. Ferro and I try to block them but we’re tackled from behind. A knee slams into my back, pinning me to the floor. Through the shock and pain, I hear someone crying out for help – Brenne? – but my head won’t turn because it’s being crushed into the cement.

“Get off her!” Vin’s voice rages, coming from somewhere to my right.

I glance in that direction, catching a blur of motion as he struggles to throw off a pile of Enforcers. Don’t fight them! I want to scream, but there’s no air left in my lungs. An arm hooks around my windpipe, choking me.

Can’t breathe!

Pressure builds inside my ears, then a muffled roar, like water rushing underground. Vision tunnels… blurring into darkness at the edges.

“Stop!”

The crushing weight slackens and I draw in a raspy breath.

“Now sit them up... gently!”

The command comes from Bridges.

The Enforcers obey him immediately, like rippers responding to a whistle. The one who had me pinned to the floor moments ago now drags me into a seated position, then props me up against the wall. Before he releases me though, he slams my head into the cinderblocks.

“Hey you!” Dax shouts. “Didn’t the commander just tell you to be gentle?”

“Yes, sir,” my attacker answers in a flat baritone.

Dax’s face shifts in and out of focus as he approaches.

“Give me your lightning stick.” He holds out his hand to the Enforcer, who surrenders the weapon without batting an eyelid.

After taking a few lazy practice swings, Dax turns to me with an ominous glint in his eyes.

“Are you ready, Wilmington?”

He chokes up on the weapon and takes an exaggerated backswing, activating the tip with a menacing crackle. I’m right in its path.

If he follows through, he’ll take my head off.

I close my eyes and brace for the blow, but it never comes. Instead, I hear a loud popping noise, followed by a grunt and thud. When I look around, the thug who attacked me lies sprawled out on the floor.

Dax tosses the lightning stick on top of his motionless body, then turns to the remaining Enforcers. “You have your orders. No one touches the prisoners. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir!” they chant in unison.

What in flames? Now he’s protecting us?  Then there’s Commander Bridges, who seems to be enjoying the show from the sidelines. If he has a problem with what Dax just did, he’s keeping silent about it. What game are they playing?

Dax hovers over me with that bleeding smug look on his face. “Prime Founder Gant wants you delivered in good condition.”

“We’re –” I glare up at him. “We’re leaving York?”

“That’s right, Wilmington. Your transport arrives at noon. That’s less than two hours from now.”

“Where are we going?” Astrid demands from across the room.

“Founder’s City. You have a date at the Citadel.”

The Citadel. I swallow a painful knot in my throat, trying not to think of the nightmare that awaits us there.

When Dax extends his hand to help me up, I notice there’s a nasty bruise forming along his jawline, right where Astrid punched him just a few minutes ago.

“That’s the spirit, Wilmington,” he says, misinterpreting my smile. “Look on the bright side: at least you’ll be getting out of the Ice Pit three years early.”

*

When we reach the patrol staging area, a dozen Enforcers stand waiting for us. I’m relieved to see they haven’t brought along any rippers, but Dax squashes any thoughts of escape.

“Here,” he says, handing us each a black band.  It bends and feels malleable, like it’s made of some light-weight metal.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Astrid asks. From her disgusted tone, I suspect she already knows.

“They’re stun collars, just in case you’re thinking of running,” Dax explains. “You’ll be wearing them around your necks. Once they lock, only I can remove them. And if you force me to use them… well, that would really suck for you.”

He turns to Vin, who’s eyeing him like a bear that hasn’t eaten in weeks. “Don’t give me that look, Vineland. They’re for your protection. Even if you managed to escape, you’d only freeze to death.”

“So then why do we need them?” I ask, inspecting mine. It has a secure clasp on one end and smooth plastic disk protruding from the other.

Dax shrugs before pulling on his face mask. “Just humor me.”

The Enforcers edge toward us, making it clear this isn’t a request. Once they’re on, the collars adjust automatically to our individual neck sizes before clicking into place. Mine feels snug but unexpectedly light, like a shirt collar that’s been buttoned just a little too tight.

When the gate rattles open, I brace for another arctic blast, but the air rushing in feels surprisingly mild – still frigid but not the kind of ‘freeze-your-skin-on-contact’ cold we faced during our last excursion. Clouds hang overhead like strips of dirty gauze, but the cover’s too thin to produce anything more than flurries.

The weather won’t help us. Our air transport should have no trouble landing.

“Heat wave,” Dax jokes as the Enforcers nudge us forward. “Keeps up like this and we’ll have daffodils popping up through the snow.”

“Huh, funny,” Vin grunts in disgust, tugging on his stun collar. “You’re a real fraggin’ comedian.”

Dax walks away, choosing to ignore him.

We march out of York Command in two columns, six Enforcers up front and six trailing behind. I’m paired up with Dax, probably because Ferro’s been glued to Astrid since we left the detention cell. They’re walking a few steps behind us, followed by Vin and Brenne.

I sneak a glance at my best friend but it’s impossible to make eye contact. What would I try to communicate anyway? That I’m sorry? That I never would have let him come if I’d glimpsed the future?

But that wouldn’t be the truth. Selfishly, I needed his friendship.

I still do.

We slog through the snow, marching for what feels like a mile before a low rectangular building materializes up ahead. As we get closer, I realize it’s some sort of warehouse or hangar. Have we reached the airport already?

My heart leaps at the possibility but no… this structure looks way too small. When Dax opens the hangar door, I understand why he’s led us here. Neat rows of snow skimmers sit waiting for us, sleek white prows protruding from the shadows.

“Why didn’t we take these on our last patrol?” Astrid asks, sounding annoyed.

Dax turns to her, mask dimpling in a way that makes me picture his noxious grin beneath the fabric. “Because the noise scares away the Ice Gophers and lets the Green A know we’re coming.”

He leans against the nearest skimmer and tugs down his mask, mouth hanging open as if struck by a new thought. “Then again, it’s not like we have to worry about ambushes after last night. I wish you kids had been there to see those Blue Wings sweeping in. Took out the whole northern part of York in one massive fireball. Hey, you must’ve heard the explosions, right?”

“I…” Astrid’s eyes widen. “I thought that was thunder.”

“Huh!” Dax snorts out a laugh. “Some storm! Founders’ blood, just look at the horizon!”

He points to a black column of smoke feeding into the thin veil of clouds overhead. How could I have missed the caustic smell in the air?

“Thanks to you, the Green A is finished. Job well done, newbies. Too bad you won’t be getting any medals.” He gives the Enforcers a nod and they move in to retrieve the skimmers, then arrange them in a neat row.

“Each of you hop on behind an Enforcer,” he says, turning to Astrid. “Except for you, Sunshine. You get to ride with me.”

When Ferro glares at him, he points to a nearby Enforcer. “There’s your ride, Peacock. Sorry but you’re not my type.”

Ferro holds his arms rigidly at his sides, refusing to move.

Not a good move, Fahrenheit. You’re not going to win this standoff. Dax motions for the nearest Enforcer but Astrid begs him to wait, then whispers something in Ferro’s ear. Whatever she says seems to work, because he mutters something about “degenerate scum” before storming off to his assigned skimmer.

“Nicely handled,” Dax says as he helps Astrid up onto the skimmer.

 “And just so you know,” he calls out to the rest of us. “These babies travel at around fifty miles per hour, so if you try to jump off…” He smacks his gloves together to make a popping sound. “You’ll be a red streak on the ice.”

“Thanks for that image,” I mutter as the skimmer engines hum to life, sounding like a swarm of agitated bees. Moments later, we’re streaking through the snow in a V formation, Dax and Astrid out front.

We pick up speed and the ruins thin out, giving way to a flat expanse of white. Now that there’s nothing to break the wind, it howls and screeches in my ears, piercing through the fabric of my mask like a thousand needles. I crouch as low as I can and hug the vibrating body of the snow skimmer, using my Enforcer as a windbreak. After ten minutes of skimming, I risk lifting my head to check the horizon.

Jagged black lines cut through the white landscape, zigzagging like the seams of a jigsaw puzzle. As we get closer, the lines expand until I realize I’m looking at seawater breaking through shelves of ice. The rusted hull of an ancient ship rises in the background, like some huge whale frozen in mid-breach.

We’ve reached the icy shoreline of York Harbor.

But why are we here? Isn’t the airstrip to the west?

No point in asking my Enforcer or trying to sift his dense brain, so I duck behind him again, keeping my profile low to escape from the wind. I’ll learn our destination soon enough.

I’m just starting to get used to the oscillating rhythm of the skimmer when I hear the whine of decelerating motors up ahead. 

I look up to see Dax slowing. We all follow suit, collapsing the V formation into a line. Moments later, Dax comes to a full stop and hops onto the ice, holding out his hand for Astrid.

What a perfect fragging gentleman. I grin when she leaps off the skimmer and barrels past him, almost knocking him over.

“Hey!” he shouts after her. “Don’t wander too far! I’ll use your collar if I have to!”

She ignores him and marches straight to Ferro’s skimmer, waiting for him to dismount. Then the two of them join the rest of us, hand in hand. The message may be meant for Dax, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Once we’ve gathered together, I notice Vin is standing dangerously close to Dax.

This could be a real problem.

“You’ve got something to say, Vineland?” Dax challenges.

“Not right now,” Vin answers in a low growl. “But the two of us… we’re definitely gonna ‘talk’ before this is over.”

Dax rolls his eyes. “Really looking forward to that. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He looks past us, craning his neck like he’s searching for something. He must find it, because he raises his arms above his head and waves in a slow, sweeping motion.

 I follow his line of sight, expecting to find an approaching air transport. Instead, I see a column of soldiers, marching toward us in tight formation.

These must be our escorts. Special forces, judging from their blue-gray body armor and sleek curved helmets. Then there’s the fact that they’re all huge – practically giants. Gant’s not taking any chances. He’s sent his Elite Guard to collect us.

“Right on time,” Dax announces brightly before turning to the nearest regular Enforcer. There’s a black stripe and triangle on his helmet, which must mean he’s squad leader.

“Establish a perimeter here,” Dax orders. “Keep your eyes to the north and open fire on anyone who approaches.” He turns to give me a shrug. “Just in case we’ve got some stray terrorists with delusions of grandeur.”

Once the squad of Elite Guards has reached us, Dax steps away to exchange hushed words with the commander. The masked soldier nods once, his enormous frame snapping to attention as Dax backs away and motions for us to follow. That’s when a terrifying thought occurs to me.

What if this is an execution squad?

They’ve certainly led us to a place with no witnesses. All they would have to do now is march us onto the ice floes, then put some frags in our heads and let our bodies slip beneath the ice. No one would ever find us.

But why go to all that trouble?

I close my eyes and scan the nearest Enforcers, looking for any stray thoughts that may give away their intentions.

Nothing. Not even an aura. My eyes move to Astrid just as her lids snap open. She’s been trying to sift too, and judging from her frustrated expression, she’s having no better luck than I am.

Why is our Gift failing us? Is it because these Enforcers truly have no thoughts or emotions, or is there some other reason?

Dax flaps his arms impatiently. “Let’s move, Wilmington! The transport’s waiting!”

“But where’s it supposed to land?” I ask when I catch up to him. There’s nothing but ice and snow stretching out in all directions. Certainly no suitable landing strip in sight.

“Who said anything about landing?”

He walks away before I can ask him to explain that cryptic remark. We follow in what’s starting to feel like a death march, Vin and Brenne by my side.

I raise my voice to be heard above the wind. “How are you two holding up?”

“Hanging in there,” Brenne says in between shallow gasps. Each labored breath reminds me I’m responsible for her suffering. If it weren’t for me, she’d be safe in Founder’s City with her family and friends.

“I’m so sorry." I wish I could offer more than just words. “I should have never gotten you involved in this.”

She stops and looks up at me, pale blue eyes filled with determination. “This was my decision, Wil. No one made me come to York. I knew the risks, and I’d do it again if I had the choice.”

“Damn straight." Vin wraps an arm around her waist to draw her close. “We’ll get through this,” he promises, and somehow, I know he’s right. It can’t end this way.

Up ahead, Dax slows down and circles what looks like the foundation of a bridge that’s long since crumbled into the sea. When we catch up to him, Astrid asks how much further we have to go.

He holds up a hand, then glances at his time stamp before looking up at her with that damned evil grin again. “Just waiting for the fireworks to start, angel face.”

What in flames does that mean?

Before I can ask, lightning flashes off the clouds, followed by a rumble of thunder.

Dax waves his arms like a conductor. “And there it is. We’d better –”

An ear-splitting boom swallows his last words, followed by a new popping noise. Then two more quick flashes, chased by an even louder crash and rumble that makes the ice shake beneath our feet.

Vin and I exchange knowing looks. This is no storm. There’s a battle raging, somewhere just beyond the horizon. Someone is attacking the Enforcers we left behind.

We turn to the north just in time to catch an orange fireball mushrooming into the sky. The pressure wave that follows knocks me to the ground.

 “That!” Dax shouts as he helps me back up, “is the sweet sound of a dozen ‘Forcers being blown to hell!”

“But…” I stammer. “I thought…”

“That all the Aletheians were dead?” The Elite Guard commander steps forward to answer me. “Not quite.”

Astrid gasps, recognizing his deep, mellow voice a split-second before I do.

“Cael?”

“I’m here, Miss Blake.” Cael flips up his visor to show us his face. “Sorry to put you through all that, but Gant gave us no choice. When he ordered your arrest, we had to change our plans. Would have acted sooner, but we needed cloud cover to block the satellites. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t cooperate.”

“So we made our own,” Dax chimes in proudly. “Tell them, who came up with the brilliant idea of getting Bridges to torch the northern tip of York to make our very own smoke screen?”

Cael punches his shoulder. “That would be you.”

Astrid and I exchange shocked looks. There’s no way…

She pulls down her mask and turns to Dax, mouth open.

“You’re Rogue?”

He answers her with a gallant bow. “That’s right, Sunshine. Welcome to the revolution.”

***

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