Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) (21 page)

He focused all of his thoughts and energy into keeping Derek at bay, and even strove to forget the pain in his arms. Finally, he struck back. Surprised by the change, Derek barely blocked his blow and backed away, avoiding 301’s follow-up strike.

“Had enough?” 301 asked.

“Hardly,” Derek advanced again, and the two men locked into the duel. For a while the world around them seemed to fall away—there was nothing but the battle, an eternal string of parries and blows, as they each struggled to overcome the other. But it was like fighting a mirror image. Months of dueling together had made them equally matched in almost every way. What’s more, they knew one another’s weaknesses, and when to exploit them.

Then, when neither could take any more, the rhythmic crash of the practice weapons simply stopped. As both men struggled to catch their breath, they left the sparring area and made for the nearest chairs. By then 301’s arms were useless. They might as well have been made of water.

“Well?” Derek asked after a few minutes. “Did it work?”

301 nodded, “I have to admit, you have some skill. I held back a little, of course.”

“Of course,” Derek replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I thought it seemed a little too easy.”

They laughed, and it was the first truly light-hearted moment 301 could remember since Grace had left him more than six weeks past. It was good to feel that again.

The sound of footsteps on the hard floor stole his attention, and both he and Blaine turned to see Admiral McCall enter the training room. He surveyed them with a probing stare, “Am I interrupting something, gentlemen?”

Reluctantly, 301 rose from the chair and saluted the admiral. Derek followed his example. “No, sir,” 301 said. “Just…working though some frustrations.”

McCall’s eyes shifted between the two of them in an awkward silence, and after a moment he seemed to accept that 301 was not going to give him any more details. “Very well. There have been enough frustrations today to last us ten years, but unfortunately they are not quite done. I need to follow up on your report from today.”

“The Communications Tower?” 301 asked.

“No,” McCall shook his head. “We’re still looking into what happened there and at the Solithium Depot, but thus far haven’t been able to discern what the rebellion’s endgame might be. This is about the
Infallible
.”

301 nodded. The fact that McCall had sought them out in the early hours of the morning, when he had been up almost as many hours as 301 himself, did not bode well. They hadn’t gotten back from the Tower until late into the night, and the old man had all but ordered them to go straight to sleep. 301’s mere presence here was in defiance of that, but McCall didn’t seem to care at the moment.

“How can we help?”

“You reported that the Imperials powered their blackout device with a Fusiosphere,” McCall said. “The very same energy source that the rebels used to escape the Weapons Manufacturing Facility.”

“That’s right.” 301 felt a pang of regret. It was in the eerie blue glow of the Fusiosphere that Jacob Sawyer had died, and that he had first learned about
Pax Aeterna
. As long as he lived, he would always associate that event with the device.

“You also indicated that the Fusiosphere was unstable, that it had to be destroyed and recreated every 48 hours and that this made it considerably less valuable than even the Solithium required to make and destroy it.”

“Yes, sir,” 301 said. “Doctor Samuel Ryder, the head of R&D, told us as much.”

“The same Samuel Ryder who spent forty-five minutes copying all of R&D’s files before he was escorted from the premises.”

301 hesitated. “Where is this going, sir?”

A deep frown creased the admiral’s brow, “General Dryfus tasked some soldiers from the Great Army to dig through the remains of the Weapons Manufacturing Facility and see if anything could be salvaged. As I warned him, the Solithium blast annihilated everything it touched…except the Fusiosphere. They found it buried beneath the ruins, still intact—and stable.”

“So Ryder was wrong,” Derek said. “They
had
discovered how to stabilize it.”

“Wrong,” McCall said darkly. “Or intentionally misleading. The discovery was not logged on any of the facility’s reports—reports that are backed up nightly in the palace archives.”

301 could suddenly hear his own pulse, a gentle throb in his ears as the realization dawned on him. Ryder had approached them in the lab, had made a show of explaining several of the most complex items on the floor, and kept them occupied until the soldiers arrived to steal their attention. At the time he had seemed like nothing more than an overzealous researcher, protecting his investments of knowledge and time. But if the files were already backed up at the palace, he wouldn’t have needed to make a copy to preserve them.

“He was distracting us,” 301 said. “The whole time we were down there, showing us the keel of that ship, the Fusiosphere, all of it. He kept us from looking at the computer to see what he was really doing.”

McCall nodded, “So it would seem. And the presence of the completed technology on the
Infallible
suggests that Sullivan somehow acquired the data Ryder took. The blackout device was also on the list of secret projects under Ryder’s purview.”

“Have we brought him in for questioning?” Derek asked.

“The doctor is missing,” McCall replied. “We suspect he fled Alexandria yesterday along with the rest of those loyal to the Premier.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Admiral,” 301 said.

“Go on.”

“If Ryder was working for Sullivan, he took advantage of the situation at the Weapons Manufacturing Facility to steal the files—
knowing
that once the facility was destroyed it would cover up his theft. But that was a Silent Thunder operation. How could he have known?”

“How indeed?” McCall asked cryptically.

Silence reigned for several seconds, until Derek spoke the thoughts that were beginning to churn in 301’s mind, “They must have been in league with one another.”

“No,” 301 said, already a step ahead. “Not in league. Silent Thunder would never knowingly work with the Premier of the World System. But Sullivan would have no qualms with using
them
to do his bidding.” He focused on the admiral with narrowed eyes, “You think Sullivan is the Right Hand.”

If Wayne Collins’ final words to 301 could be trusted, the Right Hand was the mastermind behind the entire resistance network: the rebellion, the benefactors, everything. But so far they had learned nothing about him except that he had been present at a meeting of nobles that Collins had attended. Otherwise, he was a ghost.

“Sullivan would have had the influence necessary to become such a figure,” Derek mused. “But I’m not sure he has the political acumen or the intelligence to pull off something so elaborate.”

“He staged a coup right under our noses,” McCall countered. “And who has benefited most from the rebellion’s presence here? If not for them, the MWR might have uncovered the Ruling Council’s plot before they put it into action.”

“Standard diversion tactics,” 301 nodded. “Bring back the MWR’s oldest foe to make the battle personal, and use them as a smoke screen for your own treasonous plans. It’s very possible. Probable, even.”

“We certainly can’t rule out the possibility,” McCall stroked his chin, deep in thought. “As they say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“If it is true,” Derek said. “What do we do?”

McCall shook his head, “Nothing, save what we are doing already. It is enough that we are aware. In the event that Sullivan is the Right Hand, his purpose for Silent Thunder will likely have shifted from providing a distraction to opening a second front in the war. Tactically, it would make sense to utilize the rebellion as a destabilizing interior force while his armies assault us from the outside. That makes finding and destroying Silent Thunder more important than ever. But to do that, you have to be able to stand firm on two feet, which will require
sleep
.”

301 grimaced. He was wondering when that would come up.

“Blaine, you can go. I need to speak with the Specter Captain alone for a moment.”

Derek’s hesitation betrayed his reluctance. There were undoubtedly things from their previous conversation that Derek still wanted to discuss, but he wasn’t about to disobey a direct order. He excused himself and left the training room.

As the door shut and left the two of them alone, McCall began, “The new recruits will be arriving later this week. I have a training regimen set for them, and under normal circumstances I would want you and Blaine to lead their sessions. However, with your other responsibilities that is just not going to be possible. I’m planning to ask Specter Marcus and Specter Dodson. Yesterday I had it in mind to ask Aurora and Tyrell, but with Tyrell dead and Aurora gone…they are my next choice.”

301 nodded, knowing what was coming next and wishing he could avoid it. The admiral hadn’t kept him here to talk about training plans. No one had yet asked him the question brewing behind the old man’s eyes.

“About Aurora, Captain,” the admiral ventured cautiously. “You should know that upon closer examination of Tyrell’s body it was clear he did not die by the edge of a Spectral Gladius. He was shot by the same caliber of weapon used by the men we killed in the docking bay.”

“Why are you telling me this, sir?”

“Her betrayal is difficult enough, I’m sure, without the added weight of another of your comrades dying as a result of her actions. I know the two of you were…close. In fact I would understand if you needed some time to—”

“Thank you, Admiral,” 301 said sharply. “But no. Liz and I were friends—at times, more than that—but I won’t let her betrayal get in the way of what we have to do.”

“And your relationship with the new rebel commander?” McCall asked. “How will
that
affect what you have to do?”

301 averted his gaze, not sure how to answer. He had always gotten the impression that McCall was on his side, but surely the man had limits. Still, it was best not to be caught in a lie. He lifted his eyes to the admiral’s and sighed, “I’m working on it, sir.”

McCall surveyed him coolly, sizing him up. 301 felt exposed beneath that seasoned stare, as though the old admiral could somehow see past his evasion straight to the heart of the matter: that he loved their greatest enemy, and had already failed once to put an end to her.

But in the end he seemed satisfied by what he saw, and his expression softened, “Very well. You may go, Captain. And if I see you anywhere in these halls within the next six hours, you’ll be greeted with a tranquilizer in your back.”

301 grinned, glad to exchange the inquisitive McCall for the gruff and abrasive commanding officer he was used to. “Understood, sir. You could probably do with some sleep yourself.”

“If I want your opinion, Specter Captain, I will ask for it. Dismissed.”

17

G
RACE GAZED INTO HER
father’s Spectral Gladius, the refracted light playing across her features, and thought of the countless times she had seen it at his side. The weapon had been a part of him. He had used it to train her in those years when obtaining a new Gladius proved impossible. Only their contacts within Alexandria had brought her
Novus Vita
, as the weapons were incredibly difficult to make. She wondered if Crenshaw knew the identity of the man responsible for passing them new Spectral Gladii. Probably so. He may have even convinced the man to defect in the first place.

How many others like him were there? How many more within the World System actually worked for Crenshaw’s intelligence cell, biding their time in secret until their moment to shine finally came? She shook her head, unable to imagine living that double life. And again came the nagging question: could she trust a man capable of such unbelievable subterfuge?

Then again, if she had his talents perhaps events at the Communications Tower would not have ended as they did. She was no good at deceit and manipulation—a quality she probably inherited from her father. He had always been so honest and transparent with his emotions—to a fault, in many cases. If she were more like Crenshaw, maybe she would have known the things to say to make Eli come with her. Or better yet, to
want
to come with her.

In the end it had seemed he might actually do it, but the arrival of Derek Blaine had interrupted—and ruined—everything. The man was a thorn in her side…not only the murderer of her father, but now also the hindrance keeping her from getting through to Eli. She should have taken him down when she had the chance. Then at least she would have had her vengeance.

The only question was whether she would regret killing Derek Blaine more than she regretted
not
killing him.

And to have been so close to convincing Eli to come with her, only to watch that chance slip through her fingers…it was enough to make her cry. But she could not shed any tears for him, no more than she could shed more tears for her father. Everyone in the compound needed strength now, and they were looking to her to provide it.