Valley of Fires: A Conquered Earth Novel (The Conquered Earth Series) (23 page)

“I meant what are we going to do about the
silvers
?”

That was the real problem, wasn’t it? Ambassador and his rebels numbered almost a hundred now, and if they were to be honest, represented as much power as the White Helix, and now they were apparently just as vulnerable as any other piece on the game board. The Assembly, however, could lose walker after walker and not truly suffer a single loss.

Dane rubbed his eyes tiredly. “We just have to think strategically when we use them, like any other asset, and hope we get more defectors as we go.” He turned to her, confused. “Why would they do this? Why would they revolt if it was going to cost them so much?”

Mira shrugged. It was one of many things she still didn’t understand about the aliens.

“Maybe it’s time you found out,” Dane said.

*   *   *

THE ASSEMBLY “CAMP” WAS
nestled in a clear area of desert that was mainly compacted dirt, and it felt like walking on cement. They had definitely left the green rolling hills of northern Idaho behind. Even though it was night and the sun was hidden, the heat still bore into her through her clothes. Why would anyone live in this wasteland?

The Assembly always camped the same distance away from the
Wind Shear.
In fact, Mira was convinced if you were to measure between the two at every stop the distance would be identical. She’d made this journey many times, secretly slipping out of her bunk on the Landship and coming to sleep amid the Assembly, where she could breathe, where she could actually think.

Guardian …
The projections came, one after the other, dozens of them.
You return.

The machines stood like hulking shadows in the dark, and the dozen or so golden, crystalline entities that floated in the air lit them in strange, wavering bands of amber. As she approached, the walkers moved toward her.

Mira watched the glowing shapes, hovering between the walkers. Like Dane had pointed out, seeing the entities themselves was getting rarer now, as they weakened, but it was still a strange sight, knowing those golden constructs
were
the aliens, not the machines they controlled. Ironically, the walkers had much more personality than the ambiguous, glowing formations. They hovered and drifted slowly and grew brighter or dimmer, but without Mira’s abilities to commune with them, they appeared docile, fragile even, and judging by what had transpired earlier, maybe they were. Mira wondered what that would be like, a true form that was nearly immobile and nonphysical. Then again, humans were probably no less mystifying to the Assembly.

Mira exhaled as the anxiety and loneliness drained away as the aliens took comfort in her closeness, able to feel each other again, just a little bit. She sat down on the warm, dusty ground and closed her eyes.

Show us,
they implored.
Show us again.

Mira knew they wanted her to picture the Nexus, the beam of energy the dying one had shared with her. She understood why, but she was too tired. It was unsettling how much effort it took to constantly push back the Assembly, to focus through them.

Show us. Show us. Show us. Show—

The projections stopped as they were overwritten by a more commanding presence, one whose colors glowed brighter than all the rest. She recognized the way those colors wavered in her mind, the same way she distinguished all the individual patterns of the Assembly.

It was Ambassador.

The others moved away as it approached. Ambassador was making them give her space, both physically and mentally. She opened her eyes and saw the huge, silver, five-legged Brute standing over her, its triangular eye bouncing back and forth as it studied her.

Guardian …

Thank you,
she projected back, enjoying the peace and the silence.

Mira still didn’t understand Ambassador’s role here, why the others seemed to relent to its command, but she guessed he was some kind of “noble,” much like the green and orange Royal who had pursued Zoey into the Strange Lands. Apparently, that status counted for something, even among rebels.

You have questions,
Ambassador projected. It must have been obvious.

Mira did indeed, one in particular, an obvious one.
Why do you fight for us if the cost is so high?

Because we do not believe,
was the predictably cryptic answer.

In what?

In the Scion. In the Ascension.

The first of those, she understood. The Scion was what the Assembly called Zoey, but the other was an unknown.

Imagery burst to life in her mind, and she shuddered as it ripped through her. Image after image, telling a story, just like when Ambassador had explained the Nexus.

Mira watched as the now-familiar wavering, golden energy fields of the Assembly burned into someone she didn’t recognize: a woman with blond hair, beautiful, like an older version of Zoey. The woman’s eyes opened … and instead of irises or pupils or even the black, spidering trails of the Tone, they were filled with bright, golden light. The view pulled back to reveal more people,
many
more, millions probably, their eyes all glowing just like the first.

Someone stood at the top of a huge, monolithic black structure, staring down at the hosts of people below, like a queen observing her subjects. This grand image below filled that person with feelings. Excitement. Pleasure. Triumph.

That person was Zoey, standing at the very apex of the Citadel, and the feelings were
hers.

Mira’s eyes snapped open, her heart racing.
That’s
what Zoey was to them? A way to … be
human
?

Ambassador read her thoughts.
Human is irrelevant,
it told her.
They will never be trapped again. Never without form. They sacrifice much. They sacrifice who they are.

It was fascinating and terrifying at the same time, but it still didn’t answer her question.
What do
you
want?

To stop the Ascension.

Something dark occurred to her then, something frighteningly obvious. If Ambassador and the silvers wanted to stop the Assembly’s plan so much, for whatever reason, would they be willing to kill Zoey to do it?

The feelings that exploded from Ambassador were nothing short of horrified. It even took a crunching step backward.
She is the Scion. She will Ascend us.

To Mira, it sounded like a great contradiction. “But you just said…”

She will Ascend us,
Ambassador explained,
but not how others believe. The Scion will make us whole. Make us as we were meant.

Mira sighed and shook her head. She didn’t understand, the concepts were too foreign, too … inhuman. All she knew was that Ambassador wanted to stop the horrible vision it had just shown her, and, it seemed, save humanity from a horrible fate. Beyond that, whatever else it thought, at least it was on Mira’s side.

Her next question came almost subconsciously.
Are you dying too?

The giant machine looked back.
We
all
cease to be.

Mira smiled. “How philosophical of you.”

The machine rumbled its strange, distorted sound, and while Mira was sure it wasn’t the alien’s version of a laugh, she did feel a lighthearted energy from it.

We are fading,
it confirmed.
We have little time.

Mira was surprised at the emotion she felt, a deep sense of regret and sadness, and it was hers, not Ambassador’s. It occurred to her that the alien had been here, with her, in one way or another, longer than any of the others. She’d come to rely on it, more than she knew.

How long?
she asked.

Days.

Mira’s eyes closed tight. “Then that’s it? Then you’re dead and gone and so is everyone else?”

There is time, Guardian. We will win.

“How?” she demanded. It seemed impossible. Something about the alien’s nature, its inhumanity, its inability to judge or chastise her, allowed her to be more honest with it than with Dane or Dresden or even Holt. “Where we’re going they outnumber us a thousand to one!”

Because we fight as one.

Mira frowned, thinking
that
was certainly an optimistic appraisal.

The others will not,
it explained.
They acknowledge Mas’Shinra. But they will not fight as one. It is their way.

Mira thought she could see what Ambassador was getting at. He was saying the different clans would fight them separately, one at a time, not as one giant force. Still, it didn’t particularly give her much comfort.
How does that help? The sheer numbers of just one clan are—

The Electives.

Mira knew Electives were what Ambassador called each clan’s specific and unique abilities, and she had seen firsthand how varied they were. The blue and whites, the Mas’Shinra, favored a balanced approach, heavy and medium walkers. The reds preferred heavy armor. Mas’Erinhah relied on stealth and speed, and Ambassador’s clan, Mas’Asrana, seemed designed for strength and close-quarter fighting.

Even so, she still didn’t understand.
How do the Electives help?

They are by design,
it answered.
To prevent dominance. No one Elective is superior.

Something about that made sense. The answer occurred in the form of childhood memories. “It’s like Rock, Paper, Scissors.”

It wasn’t a surprise, the confused emotions that came from Ambassador.

Rock. Paper. Scissors,
it projected questioningly.

“It’s a game,” she said. “Each player picks one of the three, and each one can beat one of the others. It’s … kinda hard to explain, actually.”

Scissors,
Ambassador projected instantly.

Mira stared at the machine oddly. What was it—?

Rock.

Mira sighed. The alien was trying, unsuccessfully, to play the game. “No, we have to do it at the same time. Otherwise I can just—”

Scissors.

“Ambassador…”

Rock.

Paper.

Paper.

Rock.

The projections were suddenly coming from all around her now, from the others, not just Ambassador. She could feel their inquisitiveness, their fascination at the idea, simple as it was. Mira just groaned in frustration.

“Forget the game!” she yelled, and the projections ceased. “You’re saying our group has an advantage, because it’s more than one Elective fighting together at once?”

Correct.

“If we only face one clan at a time,” Mira said to herself, “even outnumbered, we have a chance, because more than one Elective trumps a single Elective.” She could feel the beginnings of something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. But it was dim at best.

You will see,
Ambassador told her.

Mira didn’t argue, she just hoped it was right. Instinctively, she looked westward, toward the beacon of light in the night sky. It was closer now, growing brighter every day.

The Nexus,
Ambassador said.

It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, she looked back at the machine in surprise.

“That beacon
is
the Nexus?”

Each clan carries a remnant. They blend in orbit.

Mira stared back at it in a different way now.
It’s beautiful
.

Ambassador rumbled its distorted, electronic sound, as if in agreement.

Do you think she’s okay?
Mira projected. It was clear to both of them whom Mira meant.

She is the Scion,
Ambassador stated, as if that should explain everything.

Mira lay all the way back and closed her eyes, exhaling a deep breath. The incessant pushing and prodding entered her mind again, clamoring for her attention.

Show us,
they pleaded.
Show us again.

Mira smiled at how childlike they really were. The Assembly, the great conquerors of Earth, were nothing like what most survivors believed.

It is not necessary,
Ambassador told her.

It’s okay,
she thought back.
I don’t mind.

She remembered the image of the Nexus, focused on it, fanned it brighter, and let it blend into the thoughts of the others, letting it fill them. Waves of rapture flowed over her from the entities, and Mira soaked it all in. Tomorrow, yet again, the feelings of anxiety and loneliness would return and threaten to overpower her, but that was tomorrow.

Rock,
Ambassador projected again.

Scissors,
projected another.

Mira laughed. Why not?

“Okay,” she said, as the other machines gathered around her. “I’ll teach you.”

18.
WE DO NOT MOURN

MARSHALL, AMBER, EVERETT, STONEY,
Mira recited in her mind, over and over.

She and Max stood inside a human circle of White Helix, two thousand strong, which wrapped around in a giant loop the dusty flatland Dane had chosen for the funeral. It needed to be flat to hold the pyres, and be big enough to contain the White Helix as one large group. It was no easy task to find the right spot, and Conner had seen it as a waste of time, but she insisted. It was the least Mira could do.

All told, they had lost one hundred and seventeen Helix. A large number, but nothing compared to the almost six hundred that died during the escape from Currency. Mira prayed it was a trend that continued.

She stared at the hundred-plus small funeral pyres and the bodies wrapped in charcoal gray linen that lay on them. It was a reminder of not just the loss of life, but that it had occurred, many could argue, because of her.

Cynthia, Jonathon, Harrison, Mikhael …