5.

Aftermath

“Good news, Wil,” the medic – a plump woman with short white hair – reports with a smile. “Your vitals and bloodwork are back to normal.”

I sit up on my cot. “Does that mean I’m ready to go back to the GA?” It’s been twenty-four hours since the terrorist attack. Twenty-four hours trapped in an infirmary on the outskirts of Washton, waiting for clearance to go home.

“Almost.” She checks her dat-screen, head bobbing up and down like a hen pecking at its feed. “We just need one more test to confirm your lungs are healing.”

She hands me a coiled tube and tells me to bite down on the rubber mouthpiece. It tastes bitter, like smoke and ashes. Like the death I just cheated.

“Now take a deep breath, then blow as hard as you can.”

I do as I’m told, even though it feels like I’m inhaling a thousand tiny razor blades. My lungs burn from the effort, but I’m not complaining. At least I’m still breathing.

Yesterday afternoon, that almost wasn’t the case. When the rescue team found me, I was barely alive. They resuscitated me onboard an evacuation heli.

I only remember the Washton explosion and its aftermath in fragments. Belly-crawling through the ruins beneath thickening smoke. Losing sight of Astrid and the others, then Vin. Choking on toxic fumes as I screamed his name. Then the terrifying sensation of the ground crumbling beneath my knees, sending me tumbling down an unseen drop-off and into oblivion.

I touch the lump on my temple and wince. I don’t recall hitting my head, or being plucked up from the drainage ditch where the rescue team found me, face-down and unconscious. They said I would have suffocated if my body hadn’t settled beneath the thickest layer of smoke.

Saved by clumsiness and blind luck. I’ll take it.

Half of my classmates weren’t so fortunate. The casualty count hasn’t been finalized, but the early reports are grim: at least fifty cadets dead with fifty-plus seriously injured. I remember the speech Chief Guardian Locke gave right before the Fox Hunt. His warning about traitors and Sinovoss spies. Then I picture Liv, stepping out of my dreams like a ghost. Those green eyes urged me to follow her. To run away from the market and out of the blast zone. But what was she doing there? Did she know about the attack?

I shiver as an even darker possibility hits me. What if she planted the bombs?

“There he is!” Vin announces, pulling me out of my troubled thoughts. He’s standing in the doorway with a huge grin pasted on his face. “Back from the dead! You sure know how to stress me out, kid. Don’t ever do that again!”

The medic shoots him a sour look before returning to her dat-screen.

“Anyway,” he continues with an eye roll, “just wanted to see how you’re doin’.”

“Better now,” I wheeze, my thoughts suddenly turning to Astrid. She was up ahead with Brenne and Ferro when I lost them in the smoke. The medic told me they made it out of Washton alive, but I don’t know if anyone was injured. “How are the others?”

“They’re fine. Brenne and Astrid got out without a scratch. Unfortunately, so did Fahrenheit.” He scowls, a deep “V” furrowing his brow. “Would you believe that fraggin’ idiot wanted to leave you for dead? Well, I told the rescue team we weren’t going nowhere without you. And guess who backed me up?”

“Astrid?” I ask in surprise.

“Yup, and Brenne, too. It was Astrid’s idea to check the bottom of the hill where they found you.”

“Really?” I set down the breathing tube, ignoring the medic’s huffing. “Interesting. Should I thank her?”

Vin shrugs. “Could try. Girl’s infirmary is down the hall.” He points to his left and smirks. “Go that way til you hit the medic station, then take a left. Where do you think I’ve been hanging all this time?”

That finally pushes the medic over the edge. “Do you mind?” she snaps. “You can finish this conversation after your friend’s been medically cleared. Now get out!” She shoos him toward the exit. “Or would you like a security escort?”

“No thanks, sister.” Vin backs away with his hands raised, smiling. “Already know the way. Just take good care of my friend.” He pauses at the doorway. “Oh, I almost forgot. The Chief wants to interview us as soon as we get back to the GA.”

I study his expression, reading the warning etched there. The bombs went off in Washton port, close to the Fox Hunt extraction point. That’s why the casualties were so high, and we’d probably be among them if we hadn’t ignored the recall signal. The Chief will want to know why.

“Do they know who did it yet?” I ask. “Was it the Sinovoss?”

“Probably.” Vin picks at a small bandage on his scalp, above his right ear. “But I’m hearing the enemy had some help on the inside. This new group of terrorists who call themselves the Aletheians.”

The medic snorts and looks up from her dat-screen. “They’re not new. Not in the Northern Territories. We’ve been dealing with those fanatics for years. Blowing up pipelines. Attacking supply convoys. Everyone here knew they were working up to something big.” Her aura pulses with anger, red as a beating heart.  “Maybe now the High Founders will finally do something about them.”

“That’s a safe bet.” Vin turns to give me a meaningful look. “There’s a vid room down the hall. When you’re done here, come find me, okay?”

I nod to let him know I get it. We need to talk.

Some time between now and our meeting with the Chief, we’d better get our story straight.

*

I spot Astrid as soon as I leave my room, standing at the medic station with her back turned to me. She’s still wearing a white hospital gown and looks wobbly on her feet, like she just woke up. I linger in the doorway alcove, debating whether to approach. Probably not, if her body language is any indication.

“Who gave you that authorization?” she demands in a hoarse voice.

The target of her fury – a young man with stringy gray hair and skin the color of milk – looks up from his dat-screen and swallows. Guess he’s not used to being yelled at by the Prime Founder’s daughter. “It’s standard procedure, Miss Blake. I’m s-sorry, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“Standard procedure? To gas someone without her consent?” Astrid slams her palms against the counter and leans toward him. “That’s total rot! I was fine when I got here, but you people still insisted on doing all these tests. One moment I’m being wheeled off and the next, I wake up in a strange room, remembering nothing. What did you do to me?”

“I, um…” The medic clears his throat, eyes darting left and right as if looking for an escape route. “I wasn’t here when med-evac brought you in. All I know is what’s entered in your file.” He returns to his dat-screen. “You experienced a panic attack during a routine ventilation scan and got light sedation, for your safety. Like I said, standard procedure.”

“Light bleeding sedation?” Astrid pulls at her hair. “I was out for ten hours! If that’s light sedation, then what’s your idea of heavy? A coma?”

I bite my lower lip to keep from laughing. That was actually kind of funny, especially coming from someone not known for her sense of humor. Then again, there’s nothing lighthearted about the death stare she’s giving the poor medic now.

“This situation is totally unacceptable! When my father hears about –”

A supply cart rumbles down the hallway, drowning out the rest of Astrid’s threat and blocking my view. When the slow-moving drone has passed, she stands alone in profile with her arms crossed. Guess she scared off the medic. Her face is too shadowed to read, but those tense shoulders warn me to stay back.

“Making new friends, are we?”

Both of us jump at the unexpected female voice, which came from a hallway to our left. The trill of laughter that follows sounds vaguely familiar. The chirpy sound isn’t unpleasant, but something about it sets me on edge.

“What are you doing here?” Astrid snaps, and for a moment, I think she’s talking to me, but then the girl who just spoke walks into view. She’s the same height as Astrid – around five foot eight – with a similar willowy, athletic build. Seen from a distance, they could pass for sisters, except for the telltale white hair. It has the same metallic sheen as her brother’s but is longer and streaked with purple highlights, like the colorful stripes on a poisonous snake.

Violet Rhone.

I duck back into the alcove before Ferro’s sister can spot me. I only know her by reputation, but that’s enough to keep me away. Beautiful but cruel. Arrogant like her brother only smarter and more manipulative. She graduated from the GA four years ago at the top of her class, and I avoided her during the time we overlapped. Still, I’ve heard enough gossip to know she and Astrid are bitter enemies. That would explain the tense greeting.

“I’m here to see Ferro,” Violet answers after a long stretch of silence. “Such a blessing you both made it out of Washton unharmed. Thank the Three.”

“Thank the Three,” Astrid echoes. “Did you travel here from the City?”

“Soon as I got the news.”

“Long trip for such a short visit. We’re flying back to the GA tomorrow. You could’ve waited til then.”

“Actually, we’re going back tonight,” Violet corrects, “with a Blue Wing escort. These are dangerous times, sister. No one is safe anymore.”

The words hang in the air, almost sounding like a threat.

 “No one is safe,” Astrid repeats with an edge. “That’s certainly true for the poor souls you’ve come to interrogate. That is the real reason you’re in Washton, right? To torture information out of the locals. Bet the Prime Enforcer hand picked you for the job.”

“Wow.” Violet’s laughter echoes down the hallway like birdsong. “You’re so adorably paranoid, Blake. As it happens, I’m not here on official business, but if I did come all this way to ‘interrogate’ the locals, would that be such a bad thing?”

“Guess that depends on your perspective,” Astrid fires back. “For the Settlers getting mind-stripped, it would certainly suck.”

Without warning, someone stomps toward me. I press my back against the door, hoping whoever is approaching won’t see me in the shadows. If I’m spotted now, it will be obvious I’ve been eavesdropping. No big deal if I were snooping on any other classmates, but Astrid Blake and Violet Rhone? Not good.

“Those Settlers,” Violet hisses, sounding like she’s right beside me, “just helped terrorists and Sinovoss spies murder dozens of your classmates. Be careful where you place your sympathies, sister. That bleeding heart will get you in trouble one day.”

And with that, Ferro’s sister marches past me, gaze fixed straight ahead. I wait for the click-click of her footsteps to fade before peeking into the hallway.

Empty. When I turn toward the medic station, Astrid is gone too.

What was that all about?

I step into the open, almost asking the question aloud, but then someone clears her throat to my right.

Astrid! She was hiding in another doorway, as if waiting for me to show myself.

I fumble for an excuse, but she cuts me off with one withering look. Her lips pinch with unspoken anger and even worse, disgust. Two beats of silence pass between us before she lets out a sigh, then turns and storms off.

Great. The Prime Founder’s daughter knows I was spying on her, and judging from that reaction, she’s going to make me pay.

*

You won’t find too many liars in Neoden. That’s thanks to Sifters like me. It’s hard to hide secrets or subversive thoughts when any stranger could be listening in. The fear of discovery is what keeps a mind pure. The Great One taught this to the first Guardians. With transparency comes the freedom of a clear, sinless mind. The crystal, illuminated by our purifying flame.

But that crystal has one flaw. Sifters can’t read each other, so we can keep secrets. We can even tell lies.

I’m hoping mine is a good one.

Now that Vin has rehashed his version of what happened, I realize things could be a lot worse. I never told him about Liv, so I’m just going to pretend I don’t know her. I was chasing some random Gamma. Got too focused on the Fox Hunt and ignored the recall signal. Then ran into Astrid, who was doing the same. What saved us? Stubbornness and luck.

Keep the lie simple. Safe.

I go over the story in my head again as a crowd gathers around me. We’re in the infirmary’s small vid lounge, waiting for the evening news to start. When Vin shoulders his way toward me, I notice he’s alone.

“Where’s Team Astrid?” I whisper.

He pulls a face. “In the air. They took the priority flight back to the GA. Our crate leaves tomorrow.”

Of course they left already. We’ll probably be hitching a ride on the next available cargo transport. Before I can voice my frustration, the Crystal and the Flame flashes onto the screen, followed by the opening chords of the Anthem. We all jump to our feet, fists pressed to our hearts until the final trumpet blast has faded.

Next, the call sign of Neoden One comes on – three golden eagles circling a fiery eye with a black “1” replacing the pupil. Flip to Neoden Two and Three and you’d see the same symbol, marked with corresponding numbers. Same nightly news broadcast too.

The screen goes black, then fills with a bird’s eye view of a coastal settlement reduced to debris and ashes. Unseen cameras zoom in on streets littered with charred skeletons, many the size of children – an entire community wiped out by Sinovoss firebombs.

“First, the enemy struck in the East, terrorizing Brittania colony,” the deep, instantly recognizable Voice of Neoden One announces. If a lion could speak, this is what he’d sound like. “Ten thousand Pioneers, massacred in an unprovoked, cowardly attack. Did we ask for this war?”

“No!” everyone shouts on cue. I’ve seen this footage before, but it always packs the same emotional punch. I clench my fists and soak up the rage of my neighbors, red and hot as blood. Murderers, someone thinks right behind me and I nod in agreement. Kill them all.

“No,” the Voice echoes, “but when the enemy thrust war upon us…” The vid cuts to a new scene – an endless parade of Enforcers and Warrior conscripts, marching off to battle in alternating columns of white and black. “We answered the call!”

We cheer wildly as our troops start chanting:

We are the shield!

We are the sword!

What do we bring to our people?

Peace!

What do we bring to our enemies?

Death!

The image changes again, this time to a Sinovoss city of dark spires, domes and honeycomb-like structures. Our hisses turn back into cheers as Blue Wings swoop over the horizon, leaving nothing but smoke and flaming ruins in their wake.

“We’ve brought justice to the enemy,” the Voice continues. “The Sinovoss have paid with a thousand lives for every one brave citizen taken. Their armies are shattered, their cities in ruin. Surrender is the only honorable path, but their leaders have no honor. Instead of accepting defeat, they force their women and children to fight and die on the Eastern front. Instead of negotiating, they send spies to infiltrate our land. To incite the traitors among us.”

A new image floats before us. Columns of black smoke, rising above a shattered landscape. Stone, concrete and marble walls reduced to rubble. Bodies strewn across open spaces, some mangled and torn apart as if by the jaws of an ice cat. The camera pans back to show the full extent of the devastation.

Gasps fill the room, followed by silence. No one seems to breathe as we glide above the flaming wreckage of a refinery, then past the burnt-out shell of a concrete structure. Washton Station. The hive-like building we passed through yesterday.

The vid drifts over the market square, where blood stains the snow in morbid patterns, like red paint splattered onto a white canvas.  

These are my classmates, I realize numbly. Each crimson blot is another victim.

“They call themselves Aletheians,” the Voice spits out in disgust. “But we will call them by their true name. Terrorists!”

“Terrorists!” we shout in response.

“Enemy sympathizers!”

“Enemy sympathizers!”

“Blood traitors!”

“Blood traitors!”

I glance to my right, noticing the bubbles of spittle on my neighbor’s lips. The scarlet blotches on another’s cheeks. If one of these Aletheians magically appeared right now, I have no doubt this crowd would rip them apart.

My stomach turns to water when I think of Liv. That haunting stare that begged me to follow. There was cold purpose in her aura. She knew about the attack, and somehow, she knew I’d be there too. There’s no other reasonable explanation, which would make her…

No. She can’t be a terrorist. Not the gentle girl who loved to shape animals out of the clouds.

But eight years… that’s plenty of time to change. Those eyes were still beautiful, but so hard and determined. Sharp as chips of green glass. Could the girl behind them kill for a cause? I dig deep for an answer, the truth stabbing like a knife.

Yes.

The vid screen cuts to another aerial view. Some Northern Territory Settlement, judging from the squat concrete buildings trapped in a sea of ice. Enforcers in snow camo race from structure to structure, kicking in doors and throwing Settlers to the ground. One man tries to resist and the lightning sticks fly out, beating him into bloody submission. The message couldn’t be clearer.

The crackdown has begun. The battlefront just jumped across the Great Sea to our shores. We’ve crushed the Sinovoss army. Now it’s time to crush their spies and collaborators. The enemies within.

And if Liv turns out to be one of those enemies? What will I risk to hide her?

What part of myself will I risk losing if I don’t?

***

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