The Sword of Stars: Chapter 11 (J2 AU NC-17, Fic)

[paleogymnast]

Read Text Version Here



Chapter 11:

It had taken Jensen too long to come up with a plan. Well, really it was because he didn’t know how to locate Vissandra. He’d thought about seeking out at her home or her job, but then he’d realized Jared’s scheduled execution would be a public holiday and government offices-those officially Church run or not-would be closed. Everyone was expected to attend… or at least try to… as many people as the Central Plaza could hold.

Then he’d gotten the idea that had led to his current situation-actually the latest batch of information that had uploaded to his bioelectric chip had sparked an idea. If he could get close enough to one of the surveillance controls… his chip could communicate. He could stay more or less hidden while the programming in the chip scanned the cameras and zeroed in on Vissandra’s location. It wouldn’t be easy, because the Zyretans were using relatively simple cameras, and the chip would have to run a feature-recognition program (one his mother and father collaborated on in their “spare” time) instead of relying on something more sophisticated like retinal scans or DNA matches. Once he’d settled down in his room the information had come to him without too much difficulty. Thanks to all the schematics his mother had loaded into him, he even knew where he could hack into the surveillance system. There was a closet just outside the foyer. The closet housed the equipment; if he could stay hidden close enough to it for long enough, he could access the information.

Which is why he’d spent nearly two hours crouched behind a potted dwarf canopia tree just outside the “closet” door with his right wrist pressed to the wall. It had taken forever just to find Vissandra, and he had almost given up, when the program recognized her on Piety Way, fast approaching the monastery on foot. He’d waited long enough to confirm she was indeed coming to the Monastery. However, rather than entering through the foyer, she had looped around to one of the nearby side entrances that led into a public hallway and back to the Priests’ and Priestesses’ offices. She was probably trying to visit Father Peleggi, maybe even find out how Jared was doing-assuming she’d received word of his recapture. The problem was, if he kept tracking her, he’d never be able to get her attention, because she wasn’t coming to the foyer, and wouldn’t be near him.

So he’d slipped out of his hiding place, darted through the connecting hallways, and skidded into one of the alcoves that ran along the side of the hall that led back to the offices. Just when he’d started to panic that he’d missed her, he spotted her-wearing a long, green tunic adorned with glittering and shiny broaches, over snug leggings. Now, if only he could get her attention.

“Vissandra, Vissandra!” he whispered, calling to her from across the broad hallway. He knew the Council could be watching. Thanks to his two hours spent up-close and personal with the surveillance system, Jensen understood that all too well. Their eyes could be everywhere, recording him, seeing… if he moved the slightest and slipped into the line of sight of one of their cameras… it would be all over very quickly.

He dug his nails into his palms hard and tried to push away, short-circuit the rising tide of panic and self-doubt. Any minute now, Father Peleggi would be coming for him, coming to check his chamber to make sure he was there so they could take him someplace “secure” to watch the execution. He knew what time it was. Didn’t need a goddess clock or a chrono. He could tell by the shadows cast in the hall how close it was to the appointed time for Jared’s execution. Even now, he could hear the bubbling murmur of voices as people headed from the monastery to the Temple and the Central Plaza. There was little more than an hour until noon. Even if he got her attention...

No. He couldn’t dwell on the what-ifs. As long as there was still time, he was going to keep fighting. Jared had faith in him and hope for him. He knew Jared wasn’t expecting this, but if he didn’t do something then they’d all die. He had the information the Scientists needed to stop the attack, and he had the proof of how the Zyretan people had been betrayed and misled by their own trusted Council. It was now or never. She was here, and maybe it was luck or fate or maybe she was coming to check on him, but Jensen wasn’t going to sit idly by while the best chance he had at stopping the apocalypse walked away “Vissandra!” he called out one more time, daring to raise his voice a little more, cupping his hand to his mouth to amplify the sound. What did he have to lose that wasn’t gone already, one way or another?

Vissandra took two more steps, and Jensen’s heart began to fall, but then she stopped, her hands darting to her chest, she fumbled around, looking at the ground, before casting a glance at one of the goddess lamps in the ceiling.

Oh! Jensen understood. She’d heard him, and was trying to cover her reaction for the cameras, being... clandestine, that was the word.

He glanced around. If he understood correctly where the cameras were placed, then he should be in one of the... blind spots... where they couldn’t see.

Vissandra bent to the ground in a ladylike curtsey. Her hand patted around on the floor while she glanced around, turning slowly. It appeared that she was looking for something. Ah, one of the broaches pinned to her long tunic was missing, but not really, he could see the glint of bronze catching the light where it was tucked in the palm of her hand. He stuck his head out alongside one of the pillars as far as he dared.

She saw him, their eyes catching momentarily as she continued her “search.”

He was impatient, wanted her to come now! There was so little time left until Jared... But he understood, or at least he was trying. If she aroused suspicion, there would be no point, and probably one more body left in a heap after the execution. She didn’t know he had information that had to get to the Ministry, information that could mean the difference between life and death for them all, or at least for Chris.

She only looked around for a few more moments before pretending to see something at floor level near Jensen. She hurried over as quickly as a woman of her stature might if she had actually dropped a precious jewel in a place where it might easily tempt members of castes ill-suited to handle its showiness. He noticed her glance carefully over her shoulder as if ensuring she wasn’t cutting off anyone’s path. She was checking the camera! As soon as she was out of its view-which was actually a bit further out into the hall than Jensen had guessed-she broke into a jog and flew across the remaining distance, slipping in to the sideway through the arch between two columns, and dropping gracefully to a crouch beside Jensen.

She opened her mouth to speak, a mix of concern and frustration marring her features.

He cut her off. “I need your help.” It wasn’t a whisper, just spoken very quietly, so it wouldn’t carry, leaving every word clear as the waters of the sea of purity.

“Sure, Jensen, whatever you need. I am-so glad to see you are unharmed.” Her voice had a quality... she pitied him, and she was sad for the world, and she’d hoped to grieve alone. He was putting himself at risk, and she’d come here to check on him, so now she was very worried. He could see it in her eyes as plainly as if she’d spoken.

“No, you don’t,” he shook his head, “I have the information-the mission to Freedom Beach was a success. Chris took it, and there’s a good chance he’s already back to Losa… if not, I have all that, and more. More that I need to get to him or even with the information he has, the plan could fail. He could die.” He caught Vissandra’s eye and held it. “I have the exact specifications for how to trigger a massive plasma jet ejection in both suns with an accompanying EM storm. It will destroy the Insid fleet. I also know, and Chris doesn’t, the precise timing to launch the attack, where the Insids need to be, how to launch the probes that trigger the ejection so he can get away… I have to send that to the Ministry. I also have proof that the original Council perverted,” he spat the word out, “the sacred beliefs of the primary religious sect and several others in order to control the people. They lied, and they’ve been killing people in the name of their lies for 300 years. I have a message, and I need your help... broadcasting it.”

“Wha-”

“I retrieved the information from the Council archives like my mother instructed, and I found more. But there’s so little time...” It hurt talking about his mother. It hurt seeing the proof-knowing exactly how they’d all been lied to, manipulated-and the extent of the deception-not to serve the will of the God and Goddess, but for far baser, more human ends. “I need to save Jared. There’s very little time. But first, I have to get the solutions to Chris, or if he... if he didn’t make it then someone else at the intelligence ministry’s central command. And I’ve got to broadcast the rest to the people. It’s my mom’s plan. Donna’s plan for how she would reunite us. I have it,” he said, his eyes pleading.

He looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes. She stared for a moment, dumbstruck. A little shudder ran through her, seeming to break the spell. “You... Jensen, are you saying you went into the Council Archive?” Her voice was high and trembling.

“Yes.” He was frustrated, there was so little time. “I did everything mommy-mom-told me to do and it worked, and I got into more files, about the history and old religious texts and records of the Council. I know.” The words tumbled out. “And I know there’s still time to stop the attack. I just don’t have access to a c-comm system.” Stress and his vocabulary were not friends. He pressed his lips together in a firm line as he tucked his right hand into his robes and pulled out the slender wafer he’d retrieved from the computer system. “I have everything we need to expose the truth on here... I found the rest of mom’s files and l-loaded them. The banners in the central plaza aren’t real,” he added.

Vissandra shot him a quizzical look.

“I mean they’re real banners, but they’re not just that. They’re linked into the network, the system... with the cameras and the sound recording. And the banners can be changed... they can-project. There are other banners in other cites. I can blanket the world with her message”

She glanced at the data wafer in Jensen’s hand and then up at his face. “Are you saying you want me to hack into the Church’s surveillance system, reverse it, and broadcast that?” She pointed at the wafer.

Jensen wasn’t 100% sure about all the words, but that sounded right. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered with a vigorous nod. “But you don’t have to... have to h-h-hack anything. Mom did it, a program and it’s on here. I used it to find you.” He glanced down on the scar on his wrist, thinking not only of the data and memories it contained, but of how he’d found out.

“How did you-” she started to ask, as Jensen ran his left hand over the scar on his right wrist. “Oh.”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at accessing it,” he explained, “We learned a lot about what mom did while we were at Freedom Beach, but there’s not time, not now. And there’s more.”

“More?” Her eyes were so wide he thought they might burst from her head, and her voice held not even a hint of the accent she’d carefully cultivated over the last 20 years.

“I need a-a weapon. I am going to rescue Jared.” He was firm. Stoic. He tried to put all the certainty he felt in knowing it was the right thing to do into his voice as he met her eyes.

They were pained, conflicted. “Oh, Jensen,” she said with a sigh. “I can get this message to the Ministry, and I can let Donna’s program do its thing, but...” She bit her lip, looking away. “There’s not enough time. You’ll just get yourself killed, and Jared... Jared wouldn’t want that. Neither would your mom. They sacrificed-”

“No! No more sacrifice. What is it with you people? You’re all so eager to die for the greater good. For the mission? And you think we’re-Zyretans-are nuts because we are willing to die for our God and Goddess?” The question was purely rhetorical, but saying it made him feel lighter somehow. “Well, no more. I’ve had it. I’m tired of people I love dying for me. It stops now. When the message goes up... out, on the screens, broadcast?” He hated that he was struggling so much with the right words. “I can use the distraction to get into the plaza and free him. I’ll try it without a weapon or a distraction, but I know that will probably get myself killed. I’d rather try and die than do nothing. At least doing something there’s hope. That’s what Jared taught me… hope.”

She was still looking away but stayed there crouched as patient as he could be with the seconds ticking away. Finally, she turned and looked at him, looked at the shadows, checking the time. “All right, your mother would have done the same thing, and damned if I’m going to let her down now.” She sighed, “We’re almost out of time though-”

“I have a solution for that,” Jensen said, a thrill of hope singing through him. “I know the complete layout of the city’s tunnel system. There’s one that leads from just outside the foyer to the Central Plaza-I’ve been in that many times, we use it for preparations at the temple. But I know where-how to branch off it and get to your home. It will take half an hour, but we must go now.”



The trip through the tunnels had been fast and frantic. They had encountered several people in the main tunnel leading to the Central Plaza-all low-level acolytes-but none had questioned their right to be there. Luckily Vissandra’s obvious nobility and Jared’s familiarity combined to give the acolytes little reason to pay too much attention or doubt them. It was a little trickier slipping into the side tunnel, that would deposit them two spoke streets from Vissandra’s home, but they managed to find a brief lull in the traffic, when no one was looking, and Jensen tapped the door twice and hurried them inside, closing it even as Vissandra was crossing the threshold. The rest of the trip through the narrow, tight, space, with stone walls and faint godlamps was uneventful. They exited onto a deserted street and crossed the two streets to Vissandra’s home in record time. Twenty-seven minutes after leaving the monastery, they were snuggly tucked away in her secure comm room with Vissandra in the chair, and Jensen standing alongside her.

“What can you tell me?” Jensen asked, sweeping over the equipment with his left hand. It was all starting to look familiar to him, more familiar than when he’d watched Jared and Chris and Chad and Danni working in the weeks they’d spent preparing for the mission to Freedom Beach. He wasn’t pretty sure his new familiarity wasn’t from watching Chris and Jared work either. Mom used to take me into the secure comm when I was little, he realized. There was no accompanying flash of memory, just a sense of correctness as he the hypothesis met with vague almost-subconscious feelings and slotted into place providing confirmation. And she gave me more… data about it, so I would know, he realized, feeling the same sense of correctness. “I-I need to contact Morgan now. I know he’s at Losa.”

Vissandra looked at him skeptically. Her hair was tucked back behind her right ear where she’d slipped on a headset. A twenty-year-old headset, but recognizable nonetheless. The Union was far enough advanced that there hadn’t been any massive breakthroughs in communications technology in the past two decades, so the devices hadn’t changed much. He guessed she mustn’t have brought back any of the new tech from the headquarters. It was soothing actually, he could remember his mom with the same headset. It just looked... incongruous alongside Vissandra’s Zyretan noble attire. “You know this?” she asked, hands flying over the controls and bringing the interface to life. The screen blinking as it counted down towards a secure connection with the satellite. “I know Chris and Jared were training you…”

“I’ve watched Jared and Chris use the Secure comm. And I recall my mother using it.” Smiling face. Feeling loved. Hands so much like his tiny ones, only bigger and embellished with decorative gemstone rings flying over the controls. A pleasant shout over her shoulder to his father to secure the door... Now the images came in a flash, giving Jensen a glimpse into his forgotten childhood. Once again it was as if he was standing outside himself as an observer and yet there as a child, experiencing it. He came back to himself quickly this time. Judging by Vissandra’s apparent lack of concern or even acknowledgment that anything strange had happened, Jensen guessed it couldn’t have lasted more than a handful of seconds this time. “She gave me… extra memories of her own about it too,” he swallowed. “I don’t remember you and mom-” sometimes it still felt a little strange to call her that, “-ever using the Secure comm together.” There was no accusation in it, although Jensen recognized how it could sound accusatory; he’d already trusted his life, Jared’s life, and most likely the lives of every human on Zyreta-at the very least all those living on the surface-and everyone in the colonies to her. He was merely curious.

“That’s because we rarely used it together,” Vissandra answered without looking over her shoulder, her eyes fixed intently on the screen, hands flying over the controls. He could tell, it was painful for her to discuss; she was keeping emotions at bay. “Like I explained you the day you got your memories back, we often had different roles, and we had to be very careful about what we did together.”

For a moment, Jensen was overcome with sadness, a wave of grief. He... he couldn’t comprehend what it must be like for her to lose so much, so many people so long ago and have to go on living, haunted by their memories, always in fear, hiding among the people who killed them. It was exactly the punishment-well very nearly-the Council had envisioned for him. He... Jensen couldn’t afford to dwell on how that would make him feel, especially if twenty years from now he got dragged back into everything. He also felt... guilty. He’d never been able to mourn his parents properly, whatever properly meant. Perhaps there was a time where he was keenly and acutely aware of their loss and the absence of his sister and brother, the change in his life. But he didn’t remember. All he had was the aloneness of his remembered childhood, his upbringing in the Church and the constant feeling of wrongness, inadequacy, and tainted sinfulness, juxtaposed against the dawning recollections and emotional imprints of love, promise, and peace with his family-especially his mother-and the sense of purpose and absolute necessity that came with knowing what had happened and what he had to do.

This time his silence must have stretched on, because when he looked up from his contemplation, Vissandra had swiveled the seat to face him and was looking up at Jensen with concern.

“I’m alright,” he said.

“I was a communications officer, but your parents had their own Secure comm. I relayed a lot of information, but I was also their assistant, primary field support.”

“A little like Sam is for Jared?” he asked, trying to tamp down on the sudden leaping sensation in his chest, as his pulse sped and quickened as it thought about the horrors that could have already befallen his new friends.

“Yeah, sort of like that,” Vissandra murmured. “You know, I’m sure they’re going to be alright. Eliza knows what she’s doing. Anyway...” she turned back to the controls when the timer reached zero and the console beeped letting them know the connection was complete. “Your mom preferred to do most of her communiqués herself. I think she thought your dad and I were pushovers. That or she just really liked going toe to toe with the Ministry or whatever government agency got thrown at her at any given time. Plus she liked spending time with you, letting you watch. The Director would have had a fit if she’d known Donna was training one of her kids without Ministry approval.” She looked over her shoulder at Jensen. “I think Donna could always tell you were cut out for this and curious in a way Josh wasn’t. Who knows what Mackenzie would have been like.” She shook her head as if trying to shove off the poignant recollection. “When I did work with your mom on Secure comm, it was always here. Because it’s closer my job and closer to the Archive than your home was, whether you take the tunnels or the streets.”

“Okay, can you contact Morgan-Chad set you up with a code?” Jensen asked. “I need to send this in the next fifteen minutes or I don’t stand a chance at rescuing Jared.” He glanced at Vissandra, “If I can do this, and show you how to broadcast the message, I need you to transmit it at noon. No matter where I am, we need that distraction. The people need to know.”

“Yes, Jensen; I can do that.” Her hands flew over the controls. “Okay, I’ve established a link to Boreas Stellae… it’s relaying to Morgan’s last known location, which is Losa Desert,” she confirmed. “Just waiting for him to accept.”

The call hold screen displayed for a few seconds, and then flipped to the image of Deputy Director Morgan looking haggard and disheveled in his own yellow room. He was looking down at his hands, “Agent Mirabile, what can I d-” he broke of when he looked up and saw Jensen standing beside her. “Mr. Ackles-”

“Director Morgan, I have a lot to tell you, and I have very little time, so I need you to listen.”

Morgan swallowed and looked like he was going to protest.

Jensen cut him off before he could speak. “Our mission to Freedom Beach was a success. I’m sure you are aware by now we were discovered, but we did retrieve my mother’s journal, and other items. I gave them to Agent Kane. He was going to return here and retrieve the rest of the cell and head to you at Losa has he arrived?”

Morgan blinked, “No, but he has contacted us. He and Agent D-Eliza are on their way along with Dr. Harris, and Agents Ferris and Murray. Chris transmitted some files-we-we’re already at work building the probes and a team is retrofitting the SUMDF-342-”

“Good,” Jensen said, his voice clipped. Once again, it was like a switch had flipped in his mind. The Scientist half of him, bolstered by his mother’s memories, the data, and the programming in the chip had slid easily into control. Communicating like this felt natural. “I am about to transmit more information that will turn Chris’s mission from likely suicide to near-sure success.” He held up the data wafer and handed it to Vissandra.

She hurriedly inserted it into the terminal. “It’s transmitting.”

“Thanks,” Jensen shot her a grateful smile. Then he turned back to Morgan, explained the contents of the file and how to retrieve the files they needed.

By the time he was done, Morgan’s eyes looked like they were bulging out of his head. “So-it was true… your mother really did find-”

“Yes,” Jensen acknowledged, but that’s not all. “She recorded a message that I am about to broadcast to every city and settlement under Zyretan control. We’re using the Council’s ‘magic’ against them, and don’t waste your breath, this was my mother’s wish, and nothing you could say would stop me. Threaten me all you want, I’m doing this. The message explains a lot of what I told you, ties it to the religion, explains how we can stave off the Insid attack, and exposes all the Council’s dirty secrets. The result may not be peaceful, but the people need to know. Especially if there’s any chance we might fail. As soon as I terminate this transmission, I am giving the file to Vissandra and she is going to send it.”

“Wh-what are you going to do?” Morgan asked, spluttering.

“As you may have heard, depending on how good your intel is at this point, Benedict is going to execute Jared in the Central Plaza in about twenty to twenty-five minutes. I am going to save him and if successful, we are going to rendezvous with you at Losa. Jensen Ackles out.” He recognized and hit the button to end the transmission and turned to Vissandra. “Okay, I’ve got to run, so you have the data wafer?”

She nodded, handing it back to him.

He held it close to his wrist, using his mental interlink with the bioelectric chip to add new programming to the wafer. “When you open it up now, it will automatically connect with the Council’s hub and transmit the message to every display screen in Zyreta. I already told it to transmit at noon, so all you need to do is…”

“Load it?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I-”

“You’re welcome, Jensen. Your mother and father would be proud,” she replied with a sad smile. “Don’t worry, I know how to take care of myself. Once this goes up-if it does what you say it’s going to do-we’ll be looking at a lot of angry confused people. I can make myself useful and help out. I have a few things you’ll need though.” She tapped the wall next to the desk, and a panel slid back, revealing a safe full of weapons, comm devices… “I added that myself,” she said with a smug chuckle. “Here,” she reached in and passed Jensen a handheld blaster, a compact knife, and a mobile comm. “I’d give you more, but you don’t have many pockets in that robe, now do you?” It was a rhetorical question. “Now go. I’ll comm you when the transmission starts. Go rescue your boy.”

Jensen nodded, and without a word, hit the door controls and slipped out.



Jensen ran through the tunnel. The darkness pressed in on him from all sides. Up ahead he could see a small window of light, tinged slightly pink by the position of the God at midday. The tunnel angled up, which meant Jensen was running uphill, getting closer to the square. He couldn’t hear the crowd yet, but knew they were there, gathered, waiting to take pleasure, vindication, from the brutal death of the man Jensen loved more than anything in the embrace of the Suns. Without Jared, he might never have known who he was. He might have forgotten, broken the one promise he’d made to his mother all those years ago.

He paused, steadying himself, taking in big gulps of air. This tunnel was ill used, the Council and other members of the religious order seldom needing to trek from the Nobility’s quarter to the central plaza. Where the tunnel he and Vissandra had taken earlier was well-lit and lined with access points and cables and all kinds of sparkly, shiny, technological marvels he had trouble remembering the names of, this tunnel was simple, rough-hewn stone blocks pressed into an arch overhead and a hard-packed dirt floor. It was hardly befitting a noble, which could be a surprise, considering it linked with the part of the city exclusively inhabited by members of the very highest castes, but when he thought about it...

Since the tunnel didn’t connect to the monastery or any of the hidden portions of the Council’s secret city beneath the city, the Church couldn’t be using it to provide el-e-electricity or other amenities to the nobles’ homes. It wasn’t used for support or currier functions since Church and Council members seldom had reason for prolonged business in that part of St. Pious, so it wasn’t a particularly logical or practical route. As a rule, nobles didn’t run businesses in their homes or near them, so there was no reason for chattel or workers to move through here.

Jensen could only think of two reasons for the tunnel. One, the occasional emergency use, much like he was doing, to allow persons of sufficient importance to move more quickly to the plaza, stealthily, without being seen. And... And... two, to take nobles from their homes to the central plaza for some other purpose... like execution.

Sometimes-often-the condemned were held on house arrest prior to their execution. Jared’s situation was actually a relatively rare exception. They had reason to believe he could get in contact with other spies if they held him at his home. The entire Tavern was probably being searched. He wondered, Would they ever find the command center below, and if they did, had anyone left anything behind that could be traced? He knew it was unlikely, and he knew the members of their cell were on their way to safety, but he couldn’t keep from worrying. Still, he pushed the thought aside. He didn’t have time to be concerned right now.

But his parents’ home-his home-had been different. Jared had said back then, the Intelligence Ministry didn’t set up bases the same way. Some people lived in the support base, and the agents lived fully blended into the appropriate caste. His parents’ house would have been just like Vissandra’s. The only point of access would have been the secure comm room and...

Smashing glass and sparks flew through the air. The acrid stench of burning plastic choked him. They had guns, big guns and hatchets, and they chopped and shot and burned ‘till they were satisfied the room was destroyed, useless. They’d even jammed the door so it couldn’t be found again.

He drifted back from the memory. The Council’s security-no the Scienti, he realized now, recalling the vivid violet uniforms-had gotten lucky, stormed when mom was trying to get inside to send one last message-to grandma. Once they’d trashed the comm, they were unafraid. The house was like any other. They’d kept them inside for three days… the last night they’d moved them to the monastery to be prepared… Jensen had gotten out, but he’d been caught. The Council had been angry.

Jensen reached out, running his hands along the walls that even he couldn’t quite see in the darkness. He could brush both walls with his fingertips.

Suddenly, he was much smaller...

His father was sniffing. Letting out long sighs. His mother was murmuring under her breath, “It will be all right. It will be all right.” Jensen wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but he knew he missed Josh and Kenzie, and he hadn’t seen any friends or gone outside in so long. He’d tried to help her last night, but the scary guard had come and grabbed him. Stopped him. Mommy said it was okay. It would be okay. He knew something very, very bad was happening, but mommy had said she loved him, told him he could never forget, and he wanted to be good, to be strong.

They reached a point in the tunnel a few dozen meters from where he was now... bigger Jensen... the bad man with the fading grey hair and the dark, hollow eyes told the men with guns to halt. They all stopped.

“Say goodbye to little Jensen.” The bad man’s voice sounded mean. He was talking to Jensen’s mommy and daddy, and suddenly Jensen was scared. He didn’t want to say goodbye. He was pretty sure if the went away, he’d never see them again.

“No. No, you sick bastard!” His father was speaking, screaming. He heard a noise like someone spit really loud, and people moved fast. There was a wet smack and a whimper, and it sounded like his father. He wanted to hug him, hug Daddy. Something was happening and there was lots of scraping, and he tried to press himself into the wall... it was rough and cool.

“Enough,” the bad man shouted. “Enough!” His voice boomed in the tight space and the scraping, grunting noises stopped. “I won’t have you damaging the prisoners before the execution. We’re making an example out of nobles here. That means no hoods. It won’t go over with the people if they’re bloodied.

Execution was bad. Execution meant bodies, dead, not moving. Going away and never, ever coming back. It was for bad people. He’d seen executions from their box in the plaza. Mommy wanted to hide his eyes, but the Church demanded the children watch and learn.

“They hurt good people, baby,” she’d murmured, “because the people only know lies.”

He didn’t want to be executed. He knew it was bad-people going away forever and never coming back. He didn’t want that to happen to Mommy and Daddy.

“Stop, stop Alan.” His mommy was talking, and she sounded so sad. “We need to say goodbye.”

His daddy sniffed again, and then someone pulled him from the wall. He didn’t want to go, wanted their hands off, but then mommy and daddy’s arms were around him. He counted to seven, seven times because he was a good boy who could count, and he liked pretty numbers they learned about in Church, even though mommy said he didn’t have to take it literally. Mommy put her head on his hair, and daddy had dropped to his knees and was wrapped around Jensen’s waist. He tried to squeeze back, hold them, but he didn’t know what to do. He needed to hold on forever... he breathed. Mommy smelled like honeyblossoms from the soap she used, and daddy smelled like musty books... But then there were hands, pulling Mommy and Daddy away.

“It’s time! We need to move,” one of the guards was saying.

“Jensen, Jensen.” Mommy called out to him to get his attention.

“Mommy, daddy, don’t go.” He was shaking, and maybe crying, and as Daddy was torn away, he thought he was shaking too.

“I’m sorry, love. I want to stay. We love you.”

“We love you,” his daddy echoed.

“Here, keep woolpup safe,” Mommy said. A moment later he felt the familiar comforting shape thrust into his arms.

He hugged it tightly and held on.

“Just remember... three things you can never forget.”

And then mommy and daddy were going away, the men with guns were dragging them towards the light.

He tried to run after them, but the bad man was holding him by the waist.

“Stay Jensen. They’re gone now. But you and I are going to have a lot of fun... starting by making sure you understand what-criminals your parents were.”

He gasped. Brother Benedict had taken him from the start. Taken him to make sure Jared wouldn’t be able to keep the promise... it had almost worked, but Benedict had failed. He’d stood there, been forced to walk this path before. Watched as his parents were led down this very tunnel and executed.

Well, no more. Today, he would reclaim his identity. Today, the message with the final key would reach Chris and the rest of the Scientist Union officials. They would turn back the attack and save the people. Today, he would do for Jared what he hadn’t been able to do for his parents twenty years before.

In the distance a bell tolled. One long reverberating “dong” to signal the arrival of noon.

He rushed forward, feet pounding silently on the dirt as he neared the mouth of the tunnel. The light grew and grew until finally it was there, an arched opening wide enough for four adults to exit side-by-side. He could hear the crowd now. They cheered and jeered as an ominous drumbeat announced the prisoner was being moved into position.

Jensen crept forward along the remainder of the tunnel, leaning into the side just inside the mouth of the tunnel.

He was looking up at the square, the exit of the tunnel sloped steeply, so he was slightly below the main level. He was looking out at the back of the gallows, he could recognize Jared’s familiar shape-dressed in pure, solid copper-colored tunic and pants to drive home the message of the height of his corruption... that someone from so high a caste could Fall. Only the tunic and robe were dusty, soiled, as if Jared had actually fallen and tumbled in the dirt-a symbol of his spiritual corruption.

That must mean Jared was on the same side of the Plaza as the Temple... in one of the little alcoves that so often had peddlers stationed in front of them selling fancy copies of the God’s Pledge and the Five Virtues and all the scriptures. He glanced around. Sure enough, there was a gap in the stonework where a door could slide shut. He wondered how was he so lucky it had opened... unless when he’d used his chip on the lock on the other end it had opened both? If that was the case, he certainly hoped no one noticed. Another glance around allayed his fears a little. There were grandstands and luxury boxes set up on all sides. He was looking at the podium, not from an exposed, obviously open entrance to a tunnel, but from underneath and in between the support posts of a luxury box.

He let out a small sigh of relief, but not for long, because he could see the executioner and the specially uniformed members of the Council Guard in their pale lavender and the Scienti, in their tunics and tights and robes of most vivid violet, striding forward towards the gallows from somewhere to Jensen’s right. They would be walking in the break between stands exiting the temple.

But wait... Jared wasn’t... they were going to hang him without a hood, Jensen realized. A cruelty reserved only for the most vile of offenders... Like my parents, he realized.

The seating and viewing arrangement was set up so the lower castes faced the condemned so the expressions prisoners made as they died would strike terror into the hearts of the morally weak. That Jared should be forced to die in such an indecent and inhumane way...

He had to act... but where was the distraction? The mobile comm Vissandra had slipped into his pocket gave off a small beep, the signal the show was about to begin.

He could suddenly hear the s-s-servos in the banners moving, and saw a corner of the Sacrifice banner blank itself. The crowd didn’t seem to notice at first, but then the banner cleared and a holo of his mother-young, whole, alive-came into view.

That was his cue. As a collective gasp swept over the stands and boxes, Jensen dashed from his hiding place towards the open front of the box’s substructure, as his fingers closed around the weapon that hung at his hip, sliding it free.

On the screen, his mother began to speak. He knew the words already… “People of Zyreta, I speak to you today as a child of two worlds. I am a Noble woman of the highest Emerald caste and Trusted Aide to the Council trusted to enter the Archive and behold its wonders. I am also a Scientist, not just one who dabbles in science and technology and questions the prohibitions and punishments of the Church, but a born-and-bread member of the Scientist Union, born in the underground city of Sonata. I know this will shock you, and I offer my sincerest apologies, but my deception was necessary to expose a lie, a lie that has been perpetuated upon the people of Zyreta since the attack nearly three hundred years ago. A lie that shakes the very foundations of this society to its core.”

He could see the message playing in his head without needing to glance at the banners… the screens. As he cleared the front of the box and stepped into the plaza proper, the screen changed, and a page of the original Book of Songs was displayed on the banners. The crowd broke into screams and gasps of shock as its words read aloud. It was telling them about a God and Goddess who loved unconditionally, who always welcomed back those who strayed, who embraced the struggle and diversity of the people and never mentioned a single color-coded directive or caste of any kind. For anyone who doubted its authenticity the stamp of the First Council and the famous signature of the original High Priestess herself were prominently displayed in the lower right hand corner of each page.

It was time to save Jensen. He ran the fifteen steps it took him to reach the base of the dais, pulling out the blaster as he went. Two guards noticed him; he shot both before their weapons could clear their holsters. Before the trip to Freedom Beach, he’d never killed anyone. Now he’d killed more than he could remember…. Except he could. He couldn’t forget. Everything was there, the images, crystal clear, hovering, waiting for him to call them forth, but he didn’t. He couldn’t; not now.

His skill with a blaster was largely thanks to the memories his mother had given him-her recollections, images, seemed to pass to him kinetically through the chip, and it scared him… but right now he was thankful, because it was the only way he could save the man he loved. None of this would be worth it, without Jared. He bounded up the rest of the steps. The hangman was shocked, pulled a dagger from his cloak, but Jensen was faster, and the hangman crumpled and fell from the dais.

He looked around, frantically, searching for any other immediate threat. The people hadn’t even noticed… not really. The speakers linked into the screens were loud and the people were transfixed.

Jensen reached out and touched Jared then, one hand drifting over cloaked arms, as he swapped the blaster for the knife. Three swift strokes and he had cut through the ropes tying Jared’s hands. He tucked the knife away as he slipped the noose from Jared’s neck. Jared began to topple, barely aware. Jensen turned Jared as he fell, catching him in his arms in a crouch, still on the gallows atop the dais. Jared’s eyes were glassy and unfocused. He caught one of Jared’s flopping wrists, wincing at the tears, blood, and bruising he found there-it was probably left over from when their wrists were bound in Grace… just because Father Peleggi had healed Jensen’s head wound didn’t mean Jared had fared the same. Jensen’s stomach turned when he recalled the sight and sound of the Scienti’s rifle smacking in to Jared’s hooded head. No wonder he was almost unconscious. Jensen hugged Jared to his chest.

Jared stirred then, eyes focusing, but still not quiteright, his left pupil was blown wide, and his eyes were tearing-they’d taken his contacts.

“J-Jensen?” Jared asked, sounding terribly unsure, “How did you?” Jared gulped, swallowing hard.

“Shh,” he said and pointed instead to the banners. “Vissandra,” he explained. “I finished the mission. The Archives-this is my mom’s message. Vissandra helped me display it.” He smiled. “It’s on every screen in every plaza of every city and town controlled by the Council. Now, come on, I’ve got to get you out of here.”

Jared nodded weakly, his eyes unfocused again, and tried to help Jensen pull him to a stand.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Jensen’s heart skipped a beat, and his stomach flipped. There was no way he could reach his weapon. Even if he could, no way… he turned, slowly, pulling Jared with him, but trying to keep himself between Jared and…

You are not going to destroy this world. You will die; you unworthy Scientist scum!” Benedict’s voice was cold, unfeeling. He was standing three meters from the base of the dais steps, holding a fully charged blaster, which was currently aimed at Jensen’s chest. The Councilmember looked inhuman in his anger…

They were going to die. There was no way… He’d come all this…

Jared squeezed his hand, standing as straight as he could despite his injuries. “Thank you, Jensen,” he whispered.

Jensen knew he meant. “Good-bye, and I love you,” but no… not again. Not so soon-Jensen heard the thrum of an old rifle charging… he and Jared froze.

“Not so fast, Benedict,” Father Peleggi spat, stepping out of the shadows. “I think this world has had enough of your lies.”

Benedict turned, shocked, and tried to fire, but Father Peleggi was faster, and Benedict fell into an ugly heap of purple.

“I am sorry Jensen. I should have helped you years ago,” Father Peleggi murmured, lowering his weapon.

“I-uh-thank you.” That was a reprieve he hadn’t seen coming. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked.

Continue to Chapter 12

Master Post | Back to Chapter 10