CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CRISTIAN’S PROMISE to stay with Caina lasted only three days. It ended one afternoon during physical therapy.
The rehab complex was housed in a former shuttle bay, with machines spanning the cavernous space.
One foot against a weight machine and the other on the floor, Cristian pushed against the weight while a therapist monitored his cyber knee. A short, muscular man with a shaved head, Mike had met with Cristian only a day before and assessed the knee.
“This is pretty amazing,” Mike said, one hand on the knee as Cristian pushed against the weight. “They made hamburger out of the surrounding tissue when they first put it in, but I’ve never seen a better cyber joint. This thing goes well beyond what you need. If you had two of these, you could run for days.”
Cristian smirked. “N-no thanks.”
Mike pinned him with a pointed glance. “I know what you went through to get it, but this tech is incredible.”
Cristian pushed against the weight. Two hundred and seventy pounds. Considering how thin he was, and the state of his atrophied muscles, he shouldn’t be able to press even a hundred. It was a little surprising.
“What about stress on my normal joints? Why does a better knee matter?”
“Knees are complicated and prone to injury. It’s one of the first things a professional cyber player gets done.”
Athletes usually started going cyber early. There were few Natural Leagues any more. Cyber Leagues, Chem Leagues and Super Leagues all had their fans. Experimental Leagues had been banned because the death rate was so high.
“Won’t it rip up my muscles? I'm really weak right now.”
Mike glanced up at the screen showing the cellular activity of Cristian's leg muscles. “That's why I'm here, to make sure you don’t—but if we wanted to see the full potential, your whole body would have to be cyber.”
A bright flash of memory shocked his brain, the empty white room coming back to him, and the blood and pain. He winced it away, concentrating on pushing against the weight. He finished the set, still blocking the memories. He stood up and glanced over at the screen that had Mike so fascinated. “Not interested.”
Mike rubbed his shaved head, shaking his head. “Like I said, the caliber of this engineering is beyond anything I’ve ever seen, and if the Nos have this and they are using it on their soldiers, it explains a lot.”
“Like an elite unit?” Cristian said, the blurred movements of the red-eyed soldiers coming to mind.
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“Right,” he answered. It wouldn’t be any big revelation to find out they’d made a few cyber soldiers. Too bad he couldn’t remember anything about his time with the Nos. He knew his first debriefing must have disappointed Commander Lenoir, but his memories contained nothing useful. The only thing he remembered were long days in a cell and the time Joshua had almost killed him in the cafeteria.
Mike’s screen turned black, and a message indicator sounded. Mike poked at it with a beefy finger, and a message popped up.
“Looks like they want you up at HQ. Immediately.”
Cristian sighed and threw his towel down. He had no idea what they wanted, but he doubted it was anything important since he didn’t have much to offer.
The closer he got to the Commander’s office, the more the warehouse architecture changed. The ceiling dropped and the walls got closer. By the time he reached the main offices, there was actually carpet, to his amusement, and fake plants.
The double doors to Commander Lenoir’s office were open. Cristian knocked and stood at attention, glancing in at the dark room. Recessed lights shone down on a big oak table, but he couldn't see anyone.
“Come on in, Cristian,” Commander Lenoir’s voice called.
He obeyed, and Commander Lenior stepped into the lights. His long, angular nose and narrow face looked even more hawkish with the light coming from above. Sharp shadows hollowed out his eyes. He wore his usual dark blue uniform, the medals gleaming on his chest. “You can close the doors.”
Cristian closed them, his curiosity rising. Why the privacy?
“Have a seat,” the commander said, doing the same at the head of the table.
“Yes, sir.” Cristian found a chair a polite distance away and sat upright, the sweat from his workout trickling down his back.
“You may not be aware of this because of your recent captivity, but the Alliance has had some significant successes over the past few months.”
“N-no, sir, I wasn’t aware of that.”
The thin older man put a finger on the table, and a hologram rose. Various pinpoints of light shone out on a galactic map. “Some of our best hits, right there,” he said, pointing out the dots. He continued, “All these victories are owed to a single Nos informant.”
Cristian tried not to show his surprise. The Nos wouldn’t be stupid enough to allow someone to sabotage them this many times. They were almost inhumanly aware of everything that happened in the twin galaxies.
The commander continued, “This informant has a particular interest in you. He made certain you were one of the prisoners in the recent trade.”
Not knowing what to say, Cristian stuttered back, “W-why me?”
Commander Lenoir settled back in his chair and put his hands in the air in a futile gesture. "We don't know. It's a clue to the informant's identity, obviously. One of our strategic staff came up a theory—Nic Anderson, a young man who had his brain wiped particularly clean by the Nos during the first invasions––"
"I know who Nic is," Cristian interrupted.
The commander continued, "He thinks the informant is Joshua."
A wave of disbelief, fury, and a stranger emotion he couldn't identify washed over him. "No, sir," he said without stuttering, a cold confidence giving him strength. "He's a traitor, through and through."
The Commander stared back at him, his expression unreadable. "So the idea that Joshua might not be in league with the Nostekoi doesn't seem probable. Why?"
"Because I saw him," he ground out through his teeth, his voice harsh and low, his anger rising and replacing his cool assurance. "He's a b-bloody Nos, all the way. If anything, Nic is c-completely––" he halted, anger locking up any attempts to speak. "He's fried or worse, Joshua is…" he locked up again and waited, finally spitting out, "Playing you. He has no soul, I swear."
"We think he took a significant risk to get you out of there."
"I think he made a c––" he stopped and started again. "Calculated move. You don't know how smart he is. He thinks two steps ahead of everyone––"
He forced himself to slow down, though it took several moments. "Around him, I've seen him do it."
"So he's ambitious enough to betray the Alliance. Or so thoroughly brainwashed he can't help himself."
"I n-never believed he was brainwashed. Never. You're making a mistake."
The stuttering and frustration made him want to jump out of the chair and throw it across the room. Joshua was gone. There was nothing he or anyone else could do to change that. It made him sick, and he hated it, and he hated Joshua, and he hated the Nostekoi, but it was the truth. The idea that anyone thought Joshua might be anything else was wishful thinking.
The Commander stood up. "Everything we've discussed is highly confidential. You will not divulge the knowledge that we have an informant or our theories about his or her identity."
"Yes, sir."
"That is all. You're free to go."
"Thank you, sir," Cristian said, concealing his bewilderment. He knew the Commander well enough to sense his disapproval. Not that it mattered. Cristian knew the informant wasn't Joshua, and if they didn't believe him, they would reap the consequences.
He stood up and saluted the Commander with a swift motion. He turned and walked to the double doors, keeping his shaking hands out of the Commander's view. He closed the doors and walked away, breathing deeply. He remembered Joshua's red eyes gazing down on the prisoners from the walkway. Like a disinterested stranger, his glance had passed over Cristian without a flicker of recognition. There was nothing left of his best friend anymore. Another memory the Nos had allowed him to keep.
But the further he walked down the hall, the stronger his doubt became. It swept over him until he stopped, standing there, paralyzed.
Cristian turned and found a vacant room. He slipped inside and closed the door. The rush of anger finally overcame him and he sank to the floor, shaking. What was wrong with him? The idea that Joshua and Caina could go back and be like they were, that all of them could--it was too much to hope for. And yet, apparently, he still did.
He took a deep breath and stood. Commander Lenoir had called him into that room for a reason. He'd wanted to verify a theory, and maybe he wanted Cristian to be a part of it.
Any chance Nic might be right was worth looking into. He opened the door and walked back to the double doors.
His knock was answered and he stepped into the room. Nic sat next to Commander Lenoir. A little pudgier and with his lank blond hair in his eyes, the young intellectual didn't seem surprised to see Cristian.
"Commander, I'd like to t-talk about your informant." His expression might be composed, but Cristian’s speech betrayed him.
"Good. We could use you."
"Are you bringing him in?"
"It isn't what I would like to see happen because he's too valuable where he is, however, we've received a communication from the informant that hinted he might be planning to defect. He can still provide us with invaluable intel if that's the case."
"W-what can I do?"
Nic swiveled in his chair, one foot thrown over his knee. "We think it's going to be during our next mission to Pandora. I heard you weren't ready to go back in."
"For this, I am."
"We leave this afternoon, and you don't have medical clearance," the Commander said.
"Then g-give it to me. I'm good to go."
Lenoir smiled slightly. "I thought you might be. By the way, you were wrong."
"About J-Joshua being a traitor?"
"Well, that too. But about forgetting how smart Joshua is. I remember everything––how smart he is and how he thinks. That's why I think he's playing someone, but it isn't us."
Cristian stared back without answering. He hoped Joshua was on the right side but only part of him dared to believe.
The part of him that survived the Nos didn't. He was crazy for going anywhere near the Nos yet he felt driven to try to restore what family remained for Caina. He'd been a part of their destruction, even if it was something he'd wanted no part of, and if he could bring her brother back, he would try. He also knew he wasn't going alone; he'd be surrounded by other soldiers. He took a deep breath, reaching for the inner calm he'd been training to develop when the panic attacks would come. He would survive this.
***
Cristian crouched at the edge of the open hatch of the stealth craft, his eyes trained on the lights on the ground far below. The cold black wind of the night blew through his thin onix-covered suit, chilling him.
The craft made almost no sound as it descended. Inaudible, it also maintained invisibility from a hull coated with a thin film of onix. There were only five such stealth ships in the Alliance fleet. Two of them were here tonight.
Night ops always felt different, as if the rules could change at any moment. Hanging above the planet, waiting to drop down, Cristian tried not to think what was at stake, or that Caina was a few feet behind him with Brian. He wished they weren’t there. Anything could go wrong with this mission.
Nic’s voice came through the transmitter fin his ear. “We’re at 50 meters and descending. Lines out!”
“Finally,” Kirk growled, crouched next to Cristian. The former ball player had been selected because he’d been with Joshua during Nic’s rescue. One more familiar face.
Cristian threw the line out into the darkness, watching it uncoil and disappear. He activated the onix and watched as the rest of his squad disappeared, doing the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caina’s fingers run along her leg, her head down. Even in onix with military weapons strapped to her body, she had a fragile beauty that took his breath away. She faded into the darkness, and he turned his attention to the roaring wind that ripped at him .
“…three, two…one…go!”
His feet slipped off the edge and his weight thrummed down the tagline. His brake hand remained loose, letting the rope slide through. Sometimes he enjoyed the sensation of a controlled fall, but tonight he focused on what he needed to do when he hit the ground. The academy was the last stronghold against the Nos on this planet, and most of the important government officials of the colony were sheltered behind its defenses.
A brilliant light flared below, and he knew the Nos attack had begun. The precision of the timing surprised Cristian. He knew he could look at the cellband on the back of his hand and it would show exactly the time Joshua had promised. He’d always been a stickler for details.
The proximity alert vibrated through his hands, and the distance to the ground showed on the screen. He slowed his descent and hit the ground.
Once on his feet, he drew the onix away from his wrist to reveal the flexiband screen. It flickered to show the locator dots indicating his team members, including Caina and Brian. He covered it again. He could only risk looking at it while they were out of sight range.
The temperature on the ground was much warmer, the early summer air of Pandora filled with the scent of lavender and mountain grass. A breeze rippled across the meadow, the landscape writhing in the light of the moon and the weapons fire in the distance.
His screen showed the dots moving into formation, moving closer to the Academy. It would take them another thirty minutes to close in on their position.
He moved through the grass, sometimes hearing footsteps beside him. To his irritation, he was out of breath after ten minutes. He knew his physical condition might be a problem, but he was surprised at how quickly he weakened. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to keep pace with the locators on his screen.
The next twenty minutes slipped away as the ring of Alliance soldiers tightened around the Academy. They were within sight of the school grounds now. Nos soldiers fired laser cannons at the building. Soaring stone arches rippled as the force field repelled the powerful energy.
Watching the assault, Cristian went to one knee, his cyber joint moving him smoothly to the ground. He waited, his eyes on the Academy.
No warning came when the plasma blasts came from the Academy, the red streams engulfing a vast swath of soldiers. A large number of Nos fell, their bodies twitching in the deadly red plasma. It took a few seconds for the remaining Nos to drop to their knees and begin firing on the building. This time the stone walls exploded.
The force field could not be reactivated for another twenty seconds; a short period of time for any other place but here.
Cristian activated his plasma gun and began firing on the remaining Nos. Other lines of plasma burned in the darkness as the invisible alliance soldiers joined in.
Chunks of stone rained down, some of them coming close to him. He aimed his sights on a cannon crew, ignoring the debris.
“I see you.” The whisper came from behind, and he whirled. A red-eyed Nos in a sleek black uniform crouched, staring at him. Cristian’s brain struggled to register that the Nos had done the impossible. Onix was difficult to see through in sunlight, and impossible at night. This shouldn’t be happening.
A dark blur swept into the Nos soldier, and with a muffled cry and a spurt of blood, the Nos lay dead. Another red-eyed soldier faced Cristian.
Shocked, he stared back. The familiar face had become harder, the red eyes more strange.
“Don’t deactivate your onix,” Joshua said in a low voice. “The regs can’t see you, just the Cypher team.”
“How m-many of you are there?”
Joshua’s red gaze darted to the right. “There are five more. They weren’t supposed to be here but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Don’t worry, I’ll handle them.”
Cristian picked up his plasma gun and sighted the cannon crew again. “Your sister is here, and Brian.”
“I saw them.”
“Were y-you the one leaking intel?”
Joshua’s red eyes pierced through him. “It cost more than you know.”
Cristian turned his attention to the cannon crew, and two of them went down. “I still don’t trust you.”
No one answered. When he looked behind him, Joshua was gone.