Important note: As of 20/3 the last chapter was REVISED. Or extended, rather, by 4000 words. For those following this as it's updated, finish that first.
Lesser Note: Feedback on this sort of scene is invaluable, so if ever I would appreciate a critical review this chapter is it.
He didn't hesitate, seizing her throat with one hand before she could even finish speaking. It made no difference. A shout from behind came as a distraction, as did the barrel of the other soldier's rifle in his back.
"This is familiar," she murmured, tightening her own grip on his arm. It was a trick, he knew; the soldier pressed the rifle's barrel further into his spine to emphasise this. His grip loosened, but hers didn't.
"You want her dead?" a man shouted, and he looked aside to see Kosra had used the distraction to disarm Lyra, who'd fallen back. The rifle was at his feet, and she looked at them all, at the rifleman, before running for the elevators. Even injured, Kosra was enormous and intimidating to look upon, his hand resting on a knife at his hip.
"Should he, Edward?" the woman holding his arm asked, genuinely curious, if her tone was to be believed.
Liars were punished. "No, he shouldn't." The urge to defy her had been forcibly suppressed; the woman whose life was at stake had done nothing to deserve this, and they both knew it.
"Is that so? You learned the lesson. I'm glad for you," Eliza Anders said. She looked at Kosra and shook her head, throwing the peaked cap aside with her other hand. He picked up the rifle, kneeling down at last with a grimace. Lyra reached the elevators unharmed and vanished from sight.
It was the first time he'd seen her in far too many years. Their last encounter, in the facility buried under the coast, had been dominated by Royce's revelation that his research funding had been cut. She'd watched, silently, even after the colonel left, but neither of them had spoken. There were subtle differences, he realised, but few were intentional.
With her unremarkable height and preference for modest clothing Eliza was easily missed from afar. She was beyond slender, surely as underweight as he was, and her exposed skin gave the impression she hadn't seen the sun in a long time. Her blonde hair was loose, almost mocking the military uniform she'd used as a disguise.
Her pale eyes were alive with energy, almost reminiscent of Harper's but far more controlled. Despite her sunken cheeks her face was alluring, and there was an unmistakably harsh quality to her features. Eliza looked profoundly unhealthy, and undeniably striking for it. They made eye contact at last, and he knew she thought the same of him.
"You've changed. I was watching, and I was impressed. You're exactly what I hoped you were, and it's been a fascinating game, don't you think?" Eliza asked, her voice so soft only he could hear.
"What was the point?"
She raised an eyebrow, ignoring the others entirely. "While they're not listening we ought to admit the truth. All we did was take them," Eliza said, waving dismissively to her side, "and give them the opportunity to fulfil their own desires, or not, as we preferred. We have the control, they have the desire."
"That's not—"
"Don't lie to yourself. You've stumbled from place to place for months, changing it all with each discovery. What do you want, Edward? What's your goal? What about when your goal is complete, what happens then?" Her smug smile was infuriating, even more so because he knew she couldn't answer the questions either.
What did he want? The question had burned in the back of his mind for months, and had been subdued for far longer. It had been one of the first things Regina had asked, and he'd had no answer.
"You told Harper you wanted to help him, didn't you? And the same to Andrea, and now to James, and how many others? Oh, I know you weren't ever lying. The truth is, you don't have the conviction they do. When you told them you agreed and would help, well, it was true enough. For a while. You needed them, and they needed you. And I haven't even mentioned her. I had someone do that for me, although I'm still not sure why he bothered."
He wanted to force her to be quiet. To show her how much conviction he could feel. It didn't happen. They stared at each other for a long moment, oblivious to the surroundings.
"Why would I have done this if that were true?" he asked, realising someone to their right was shouting. He couldn't care.
Eliza laughed. "You didn't. I didn't. We watched, and we convinced, but we don't do, Edward. They do," she said, looking to his right. Richard had drawn the pistol, Hereson and Kosra arguing, the latter brandishing his stolen rifle as he knelt.
He hadn't intended to manipulate them, not as openly as she had. The broken promises had been necessary, adapting his plans to meet the situation. But it was true enough: Harper, Kesler, Gail: none of his words had been genuine, not the way he'd wanted them to be, and his intentions had endured only so long as he remained with them.
"Even if I did agree, and don't think I do, what does it matter? They'd never have made it this far without us, and that is tangible action. We're the reason they're here, and I know you had someone waiting in that facility. Mirzin, wasn't it? Don't try to avert the blame now. You've earned it, and all that follows."
A slight smile. Eliza was fascinating to look upon, so remarkably different from anyone he'd ever known. "Earned? I'm not sure I agree. The conditions were right; all we had to do was give them a slight push in the right direction. I wish I could explain with words, but I think a man of science would prefer a demonstration."
Turning around, Eliza's smile faded in an instant and she approached the others. As occupied as he'd been, he'd missed it all. Rick and Melissa were arguing with Hereson and Kosra; Richard was motionless, paralysed.
"This has gone far enough. To come here in person, Eliza? You weren't always so reckless," Hereson said, approaching them with care.
"I assure you, I'm quite safe. You've been remarkably quiet, James. Why not unleash the army? They'll never let you keep your position, no matter how much you offer to share. Perhaps they'll elect a replacement. I'd love to see your face if that happened, to watch as they took it all away," Eliza said, and he knew she wanted him to walk with her, so he didn't. The rifleman watched, silent. His eyes were blank, distant, almost unnervingly so.
"You underestimate how valuable I am, and don't think they'll refuse a chance to have the military switch sides—"
She ignored him. "Kosra, tell me what Liebert said again. And I should apologise for allowing that woman to shoot you, but you don't seem to mind too much."
Kneeling with one hand on his bleeding leg, Kosra looked likely to disagree. He didn't. "They said if don't bring in reinforcements the garrison won't last another day. He says they've started executing your favoured elite in the streets, and your officers are getting uncomfortable, General. Some of them think you might just be a traitor yourself."
"It's irrelevant. We have the time to make this work, and you can be a part of it too if you must. Don't use your weapon until we've discussed this, give me that much time," Hereson said, and now his composure was cracking.
Eliza shrugged. "But it's not my weapon. I'm not in control. Edward, do you think your friends can stop him before he reaches it? Your allies or mine. Either way, all we can do is watch."
"I should have killed you back under Ibis Island," Melissa shouted, far more emotion in her voice than in theirs. "I had a loaded pistol, and I aimed it at Royce." She laughed, a look of loathing on her face. "I should have shot you instead."
"Did you actually think that pistol was loaded? I had Morton stand there, you should know, all so you could put on that little show for your friend's benefit. We needed them to like you, you see. It was all for nothing, really, after I found Kosra. You should have been executed with the other prisoners."
She was so consistently callous, and it was all done without condescension or judgment. There was no spite in her words, no obvious pleasure taken in the pain she inflicted. It made no difference; Melissa fell back, and Rick pulled her away. He, at least, seemed to realise no good could come from speaking.
"Now, as I was saying, Liebert is nervous. They're all nervous. Some terrible person set off a bomb on the fourth floor, Royce's old office, and they were quite willing to listen to my proposal."
"I'm not unleashing the military on my own city. We wouldn't survive even if we did crush their revolution, how short-sighted can Liebert be? This is the only way. As for you—"
But Eliza ignored him again. "Let's ask someone else." She took a long step back and put a hand on Edward's shoulder, smirking as insolently as she possibly could. "An impartial voice, perhaps, with ambition and political experience and an interest in staying alive. Who could that be?" He clenched his jaw. Were the theatrics for his benefit? He'd done similar in the past, to put on a certain image, give off the right impression.
"Richard, you're the man I need," she said, and the man in question flinched. "Remember that favour I granted? Not stabbing you with a letter opener, I think it was. Would you like to return the favour and do something for me?"
If anything the beleaguered assistant turned even paler. He looked a moment away from vomiting, holding the pistol at his side. Kosra was kneeling, Lyra's rifle in his hands, the second soldier holding another. There was no need for this, and it was precisely why she would do it.
"I can't do it," Richard said, his voice hoarse. "You're sick, you have to be. What do you get out of this?" He regained his strength, if only slightly, and looked at Kosra. "What do you get out of this?"
"Me? I'm just repaying a favour. You're the one who acts out their propaganda, aren't you?" Kosra said. He sounded surprised to be asked such a thing. "Just when I think it can't get any better, she finds a way. To think it'd be me, of all people, who could be here now."
"You're no better than her," Rick said, finally approaching, condemnation in his voice. Melissa had given up, looking at her fellow Borginian with pity. General Hereson stepped in, making several cogent arguments in a swift statement.
"I love this. They're so passionate," Eliza whispered in his ear as they argued. "I think it's going to happen soon. Are you ready?
"Have you considered he's right?" Edward asked, in a similar whisper. "You are sick. When this is done, if Harper gets his wish, what will you do then?"
"I'll follow their desires to the logical end and ask: what next? Can they answer? No more than you could when you insisted your Third Energy project meant anything. Will it be satisfying? Even this feels like nothing. The rain is cool, the wind harsh, and I think I'll have decided a nation's future before the sun sets. I should be happy. It's not as it should be." She seized his arm again and pulled him aside, instructing Kosra and her rifleman to keep the others occupied.
"He plans to die when this is finished, not continue," he pointed out, and Eliza laughed.
"As is the best solution to this problem. Who would ever want a long life? He's not stupid. Achieve this one burning passion, and fade as it does. A graceful exit. She is different, I think. In each moment your precious Regina decides what is best, and that's enough. Sustained might be the word. I don't understand it, but that woman is no liar. If she tries to be a soldier now, after deciding to give it up, she'll descend that ladder and never emerge again."
That was too much. He could feel the anger rising as she spoke, the injustice too much to ignore. "You didn't give her a choice. What kind of observer does that make you? You can't resist the urge to force people to do as you like, can you? How pathetic."
"Oh, no, I learned my lesson. All that torture, and it got me nowhere. What I did to her was practical. Dangerous people must be controlled. Do you know, the first time we were truly alone he held me to a wall and very calmly said he intended to rape and murder me. It was a logical end, the result of my actions, and something I'd expected. But he refused, and I'm not sure he ever knew why either."
There was something wrong, he thought, with this entire scenario. To make this happen, as much as it had only been possible because of the desires and actions of others, even the material conditions of an entire nation, had been an incredible achievement. Instead of gloating, Eliza was allowing the situation to deteriorate around them.
It looked as if she'd forgotten it wasn't the two of them alone in an empty room, but that last utterance admitting that she, of all people, hadn't understood someone's motives. That was familiar, and his anger dulled upon hearing it. He'd wondered the same thing far too many times. Why had Regina ever listened to him? What was different, to lead her to that decision, when so many others had never spared him even a moment's thought? It was a driving force, and had been since their exile together. He hated that they shared that much, and felt the urge to seize her by the throat again.
He looked away from the others, as if he and Eliza were separated from them by an invisible wall, something only they could see. "I've hated you for so long. It was easier hating Royce than you, and you've done far more to deserve it. Even now, you've done it again. I never could get used to powerlessness.
"Hatred is only natural. I've ruined your life, haven't I?"
"But I don't think I hate you." At this her calm smile shifted, almost becoming wary. "You must be the loneliest person I've ever met. You can outthink me as much as you like and it'll never satisfy you. Hard not to appreciate that much, even in this position. Would you like to gloat? You'd only embarrass yourself by trying."
For the briefest second Eliza looked surprised. Her usual morose stare shifted back into place and she laughed. "You are everything I hoped you were. We both learned the lesson, but didn't understand it. Why couldn't I ever be satisfied with what I had? Why do we seem to shift from place to place, person to person, never content? We need limits, ideals, but I think we only ever pretend to have them. Alone we're empty, and none of this professed feeling means anything."
"Doesn't it? I wasn't lying. Not even to Harper, when I said I'd help him—at the time I thought it the only logical choice, and even a satisfying one. I also decided to side with the militia, and I don't regret it. It's easy enough to say every choice is a bad one, but we're making decisions either way."
She ran a hand through her hair, almost agitated. "What's the difference if it still feels meaningless? All the conditions had to be exactly right, or none of this would have happened. Anton believes he's important, that nobody else could do this." She pointed out at the city below. "How arrogant is he?"
"Then why are you convinced that this exhausting work we do, all this convincing and manipulating, has such an effect?"
"Because it clearly does. He was little better than a member of a well-funded street gang before I found him," Eliza said, pointing at Kosra, who was arguing profusely with Melissa. "Now he runs an entire militia, and I've encouraged his beliefs. He wants your nation to burn, far more than he did when we met, and he's barely even a Borginian nationalist. I think he knows, on some level, that what he's doing won't help, but it feels so right, and when he falters I'll be there to tell him to keep going."
"And this?" he asked, gesturing at the southern end and the conflict beyond. "It's not one man's pet political project, those people aren't fighting because someone in a uniform told them they ought to. My own work was only ever done despite those orders, not because of them."
"No," she said, far more softly. "Systemic contradictions, things that James and his friends have tried to avoid for far too long. It's been coming for a long time. But they needed a push, and we were in the right place. I think it'll be interesting."
She spoke with passion, of a sort, but it was lifeless. He knew her words and unstated intentions were true enough. "You are going to do it, then? More sabotage, for as long as you can?"
"Yes, I am. Until there's nobody left who agrees with me, and even then, I can't say," Eliza said. "You should be thankful." She looked aside, falling silent for a long moment.
The sky was darkening. It had been too long. She showed no signs of anxiety, looking out at the western coast and the sea. "I don't intend to let that happen," he replied, just as softly. "As unpleasant as it is, I'll tell you what I told your lover. This is nothing more a comfortable series of excuses. Harper wants revenge. You're miserable and surrounded by people and systems you despise. There are so many who feel the same, with far more to lose. Do you think you have this many allies for nothing? You've taken it to a self-destructive extreme, but how could they know that?"
Eliza laughed, and it was the most genuine expression of emotion he'd heard from her. "You really are far more insightful I'd thought. You're right. It is self-destructive, but they do know. Down into the gutter, that's where we're going, and it's invigorating. But who's going to follow you?"
The question was far more piercing than he'd expected, and Eliza's grin told him she knew it. He opened his mouth to answer, far too quickly, but as the viewing platforms lights flickered and grew dark around them he realised their danger.
They both looked back across and he saw Rick watching from the other end. He and Eliza were away from the others, who were under careful watch. Why hadn't Lyra returned? Eliza's face was naturally cold, inclined to morose frowns and blank stares, not the almost cheerful smile he saw now as his eyes adjusted to the low levels of light.
"The entire city," Eliza murmured, pointing at the darkened buildings below. She was right. Most of the city had lost power. The dread returned, and he felt a burst of adrenaline run through his veins, but it was as she said: all they could do was watch.
"Was this you?" He desperately wanted it to be her doing.
She shook her head, hair shining slightly in the fading sunlight. "I had nothing to gain by doing this. Nobody I know is in a position—" she said, trailing off only to look far too curiously at him. "You know lying is futile. Neither of us can stop it now, Edward." Even now she refused to gloat, and he hated that too.
The artillery had remained silent for too long; though the sounds of conflict persisted, they had lessened. He could hear murmuring from the others. They'd finally stopped arguing and had reached an uncomfortable silence.
Even the conflict below fell into the background, no more notable than the sound of his own breathing. None of them were moving; they were all aware of how little they could do.
"He actually did it, didn't he?" she whispered, almost enraptured. The dread he'd felt before her emergence paled in comparison to what he felt then. It was inevitable. Rick saw it first, his eyes widening, and he covered Melissa's face with his hands and pulled her to the floor.
The western command centre shook for a brief moment, the ground beneath them trembling, and within a second they were bathed in an iridescent light outshining the dying sun. A star had been born on the eastern horizon. Those facing the north fell back; Edward turned to face it. There was no overwhelming heat, no destructive force to be observed and felt, and in light of his warnings it seemed to them a great illusion, but all those at its source were burned away in an instant.
The pain was indescribable. His eyes burned with each second, the long distance between them and the Third Energy irrelevant. He refused to look away. Its raw power was indisputable. The city shone with blue-white light, and it was undeniably beautiful, even elegant, a shimmering mass of energy painting the entire world in a new light for a brief moment.
To the Alvernian people it appeared nothing less than a miraculous force of nature and the civil war paused, guns lowered in the streets, both sides enthralled by the sight before them. For one irreplaceable moment their capital shone with the intensity of a thousand suns, and it was seen by all. He looked away at last, falling back in wonder and dismay, and Eliza reached for his arm again, almost tenderly, but she too averted her gaze.
Someone shouted something, he thought, but their words went unheard. Flickering, the world darkened, the Third Energy losing its stability and failing as was inevitable. It faded, losing its distinctive size and shape with a deafening crack they only heard several seconds after it disappeared, the light vanishing from the world as it did.
As Edward's eyes adjusted, still burning, he knelt down, unable even to continue standing. Eliza did the same, almost collapsing and breathing heavily, an elated look in her eyes. Rick stood up first, the fury and condemnation in his features fading as he looked at them.
"It's not too late," Edward said in a harsh whisper, "we're not finished yet." It seemed a futile gesture of defiance. What hope was there for them? Regina was dead, Kesler was dead, and Gail was dead. They had all failed, all but Eliza, and her eyes almost shone with a feverish pleasure.
His words had no effect. Eliza stood up with some difficulty, all signs of cheerfulness gone, replaced with determination. "I promised you a demonstration, Edward, and here it comes. Don't worry. You're not finished, but they are. This is how it had to be."
He stood up, his anger returning, but the rifleman kept careful watch. He ignored the man entirely, following hastily and scowling at the enthralled grin on Kosra's face, ignoring Rick and Hereson's frenzied words, and watched her as she reached them again at last.
"You petulant child. Do you realise what you've done?" Hereson spat, all civility abandoned. He was furious, and diplomacy had been abandoned at last.
"It was beautiful, wasn't it? I doubt we'll ever see something so captivating again, but even the man who made it happen doesn't know what happens next, and he didn't even get to see for himself. I'm afraid you've lost, James. This time it's undeniable," Eliza said, looking between them all.
"You'll never leave this command centre alive. They'll be on full alert now, and that—"
"No," Eliza said, silencing him. "I told your command staff about the Third Energy. I can't thank you enough for putting one of my recruits in charge during your absence, James. We proved its existence, bribed and threatened, and so they agreed: if it happened they'd help me, not you. And if it didn't happen they'd shoot me. What a gamble."
"You're lying. They'd never—"
"Richard. Remember what we agreed. Now is the time."
Hereson looked at her and visibly stiffened. He turned sharply to the side and shouted, "Kirk, run for the artillery command—"
But this time the general was silenced by a single gunshot. The man holding the pistol lowered his shaking hands, the pistol falling to the floor.
The military's commanding officer lay still in a spreading pool of blood, and Richard fell to his hands and knees, sweeping the pistol aside as if it absolved him of the blame. Eliza watched, looking at Edward with a knowing smile. Even Melissa had finally fallen silent, unable to move or speak, but Rick looked at Richard with pity, and it was pity he deserved.
"It was necessary," she said. "He had to die, and his officers must die, but the new leadership would have executed you. Now they won't. This can all be resolved so easily, and the pain fades with time. You'll understand before the end. Until then, a man with your skills is exactly what they'll need.
She turned back, moving from one victory to another. "You should be proud, Edward. It was fascinating, defying description, and all because of your genius." A lie. She hadn't the slightest interest anything so sterile and it showed in her eyes, cold once again. More theatrics, all for their benefit, and they believed her.
"Now, would you like to perfect your creation? We can make it happen. There's no reason for us to be enemies. We have so much in common, after all, and—"
But she had mistaken him entirely, to think that he cared any more than she did. "What a stupid question. The answer was always no, and always will be. Would you like to have one of them shoot me too? Go ahead. See how much I care for yourself."
Let her try to coerce him; there was no price, no reward that could ever be enough. He would, as he'd once told Jane, kill himself before submitting to torture; she would know that much already.
"Don't expect me to do it. You'll have to kill me too," Rick said. His indignation was gone, replaced by a calm certainty. Edward looked at him, and Rick nodded in a show of sudden solidarity.
Kosra gave a pained laugh, the rifle still held in one hand, but he also looked at Eliza for guidance. They were nearly engulfed in darkness; the city as powerless as it had been before the Third Energy had been unleashed.
Melissa stood with Rick, the two of them openly defiant. "I won't either. Kill us all if you want. You'll both be dead before the month's over. I'm picturing it now, and that's good enough for me."
"That's unfortunate," Eliza said, all hints of civility fading. Again she focused solely on him. "You didn't have to mean it, you know, but the choice is yours. Is it grief? They may not be dead, but I'm sure there are cells large enough to accommodate all of you, for however long that's necessary. There's still so much I want to know, Edward."
Eliza's rifleman turned suddenly, looking over his shoulder, and threw a salute. Five figures were ascending the stairway, their faces masked by the gloom.
The man in the lead, unremarkable in every respect, stopped at the top and looked upon the corpse of the general. He was uniformed, Edward saw, and well-decorated at that. His expression was calm, careful, but slowly shifted into a smile.
"A job well done, Eliza. We always knew you joined Anton to sabotage his operation from within, and of course the records will reflect this," he said, almost as if he was sharing a secret with her. "As for Hereson, well, we can't negotiate with traitors, as you've shown. These things have to be done. You've done your country a great service." His words were disgustingly subservient, and they all knew it. She must have appeared a terrifying spectre, able to unleash destruction at will. It wasn't far from the truth.
The tallest of his companions came into sight when she saw the general's corpse and almost ran across, but the man in the lead seized her arm and held her back. "An unfortunate tragedy, Captain, but the man wasn't fit to lead. We'll do what he couldn't, and I'm counting on your support."
Lyra recoiled, he saw, before forcing herself to relax. The look on her face was painful to see, a mix of betrayal and horror, but it too was wiped clean in an instant. She looked across, taking care to hide her interest in him. It made no difference: the interest was a shared one.
"You must be the man responsible for this, how shall we put it, unfortunate accident? Necessary tragedy? The details can be addressed when we better understand the situation," their leader said, looking at Edward as he approached with an almost sycophantic smile. His was a mild smile, reassuring, as was his slow walk and unassuming figure.
"He's not as cooperative as you might hope, Liebert. Go on," Eliza said, barely restraining laughter. She took a step closer, once more ignoring the others. "Tell him what comes next."
Liebert frowned, adjusting his collar. "We'll be consolidating power, of course. Without central command, and we're not quite sure how much of the capital you destroyed, the military has little choice but to take the reins. Speak your desire and we'll accommodate you, Doctor, but I insist on having you onboard."
"Speak my desire? I only wish I'd convinced Harper to target this cesspit while I had the chance. How satisfying it would have been to know that I'd annihilated all of you in an instant. Be silent or leave. I have nothing to say to you or any of your kind."
Liebert smiled, unoffended. "Harper? He and I are acquainted. I'm glad to know he's with us now, but leave the theatrics behind. We have work to do." There was something else behind that mild smile, Edward realised. A gleam in his eye, something concealed beneath his polite manner.
"Run," a woman shouted, and they all turned to see Melissa had seized Richard's discarded pistol. She aimed at Eliza and fired, but the rifleman threw himself in front of her and was shot in her place. A return shot threw Melissa back, the pistol falling once more. Rick pulled her aside protectively, her shoulder bleeding profusely, but Kosra hesitated and didn't fire again.
"That was an inspiring attempt," Eliza said, her uniform stained with the rifleman's blood. He was dying beneath her, and she ignored him. "What did you—"
But she had no chance to continue. Another rifle fired from the stairway, and one of Liebert's guards fell to the floor dead. Lyra shouted at them to run, and this time he realised the opportunity was open and sprinted for the stairway while she contended with the remaining two. Eliza raised her voice at last and commanded them; to do what, he couldn't say. Liebert reached to seize his arm, but he threw him back, slamming the colonel's knee with his boot and eliciting a satisfying scream; within seconds he'd passed them all and was running down the stairway.
Reaching a turn he paused, eyes burning as they adjusted to the emergency lighting. Was he the only one who'd made it? Hurried steps followed, and he turned a corner to wait. There was no use running without assistance. Another shot was fired above. Eliza and Liebert were armed too, he knew, and their chances were slim.
Deciding to face them, whoever it was, he turned back and collided with a woman who recoiled sharply, one hand clasped to her shoulder. Rick followed shortly after, the pistol in his hand, and Lyra after him with the rifle.
He stared at Lyra at amazement. "Why would you—"
"Are you stupid? We have to stop them, you said you wanted to, so let's go," Lyra said, covering the stairway with her rifle. Nobody else followed. "I don't think we got her or Liebert, but I might have hit that bastard again. The big guy. Forget it, we need to go while the power's out or they'll seal the doors."
Her words of caution went entirely ignored. "Where are the artillery commanders?"
Rick looked ready to argue, but Lyra paused, realising what Rick hadn't. "This way." At the sight of his sudden cold anger none of them argued and they followed the tunnels for some time, taking many twists and turns. None of the other soldiers realised what they'd done, and they were allowed to progress unhindered. The artillery control room she found was smaller than he'd expected, and the men inside were idle, but anxious.
"I have a target for you. General Hereson's orders," Edward said as they stormed into the room. They were eager to comply, having expected new orders for some time, and Lyra's rank was enough to convince them of their legitimacy. It was fortunate. He'd been willing to use force if necessary. His location was imprecise, based on landmarks, but shortly after the satisfying sound of an artillery barrage on the western wall resumed.
He apologised, internally, to those he'd left in the west; if they were alive, this was only going to worsen the chance of their survival. He knew Regina would have wanted it done anyway, but it was his own decision, and he was ready to defend it.
As they left, instructing them to continue firing for as long as possible, he realised they hadn't yet been pursued. The lack of power was a contributor, perhaps, but he was growing warier by the minute. For a moment he entertained the idea of returning, attempting to kill Eliza, but Lyra seized his arm and dragged him down a seemingly endless stairwell. That was for the best, he suspected.
The emergency tunnels, as she called them, were only accessible through a long series of unmanned security doors. The lone guard at the final exit questioned them, and Edward thought it best to kill him. Lyra spoke for them, and shook her head almost imperceptibly, anticipating his response.
It was too late. The main lights flickered to life once more, soon accompanied by a blaring alarm. The guard looked at them again, far more questioningly, but Lyra was still hesitant. The choice was taken from them, and he insisted on clearing their credentials with a higher authority.
It made no difference. As he reached for the communicator Rick slammed his pistol into the back of the guard's head and he crumpled to the floor. He then ensured that the guard wasn't actually dead in an absurd show of misplaced concern, or so Edward thought, but Melissa, who seemed rather prone to violence, watched almost fondly without a hint of derision.
They progressed as quickly as possible. If Lyra had thought of the tunnels Eliza almost certainly would have anticipated their choice of escape route. The marble and stainless steel of the command centre fell behind them as they entered a far older series of stone and brick tunnels. Many looked to have been unused for years, likely built in a much earlier time. Others were still well-trodden. Their path took them through the oldest and least traversed passages, and soon he was lost entirely. The sound of the alarms grew faint, replaced by their echoing steps, the occasional splash, and little else.
He was soon exhausted, and called for a short break. None of the others seemed tired, even the injured Melissa, and he covered up his gasps for breath with a pointed question. "Where are you taking us?"
"Can't you tell? We're headed for the oldest, least memorable tunnel I can remember," Lyra said, obviously impatient, but still sympathetic enough not to mention his obvious exhaustion.
It was the logical choice. A tinge of dread, now familiar, returned. "No. Find another one, newer," Edward said, taking another arduous step forward.
"Wait, why? They might—"
"Isn't it obvious? Once you've decided throw that option away too. We'll take the third best exit."
It was. Without another word she nodded, and they took another route, newer and less cramped. There was no more room for error. What they would do, he didn't know. What to expect, none of them knew. Would the fighting stop? Would Royce retreat, would Liebert do what General Hereson wouldn't? It was getting harder to breathe, the air stagnant and humid, his breathing laboured.
He regretted Hereson's death. The general would never be remembered for what he was, but his distant hatred for the man had given way to a reluctant respect before the end. If his ploy with the artillery had worked, and unbeknownst to the others if it had hit the generator while it was activated the western half of the city would have been annihilated, it may well have been rendered useless.
They reached the end at last, a small, entirely undefended exit, and emerged into the darkened city beyond. The artillery battery in the west had ceased firing, he realised, though the southern conflict had continued. None of them spoke for some time, too weary to continue, and Edward realised they were following him, expecting him to have the direction they didn't.
He took them west to familiar territory. It had never been home, but he found the familiarity comforting. None of their makeshift hideouts could ever be used again, and he refused to return to the warehouse under any circumstances. It was difficult enough, he realised, to see the corpses on the unlit streets. As they proceeded west the damage lessened, but most of the checkpoints had been abandoned by both sides, immersing them in an unnatural silence.
The occasional militiaman could still be seen running back and forth, but they looked to have broken as a fighting force. To his slight surprise, the looting had already begun in the areas most recently abandoned by the military. Several areas had been heavily damaged in the last few hours alone, with at least one building they passed still smouldering, corpses left to rot on the road outside. Few were uniformed, he realised with some unease; the military's response, restrained as it had been, had been impossible to resist.
A quiet voice said something, and he realised Rick was murmuring at his side, taking care to be as quiet as he could. "The bleeding's getting worse, and I can't stop it. We need medical supplies and fast, but if we're in the city for much longer I don't think we're going to make it. What's our next move?"
He was right. Melissa had said nothing, but her hand glistened with fresh blood as she held her shoulder. Another one who refused to admit her pain out of a stubborn sense of pride. Lyra was unaware, focused on the streets ahead of them, rifle held in both hands. Rick's sudden lack of hostility was rather noticeable, but not especially surprising.
Not that he had a plan to share. That they'd escaped alive was miraculous enough, but the immediate future promised nothing but suffering. The urge to stop moving, to collapse against the cold stone and give in to the comfort of despair, was growing stronger.
Lyra and Rick were still armed. He could enlist several of the remaining militia members, he suspected, and make a final attempt to assault the generator. They would die, he knew. If not at the hands of Harper or Mirzin than in the aftermath, caught in the streets as the military descended at last, but it would be a satisfying death. As Eliza had said: fulfil your one desire and die as it does. There was nothing shameful in that.
He sighed inaudibly and stopped in the centre of the road, bringing them all to a halt as they waited for direction. It would be hypocritical, he knew. Mindless obedience to an ideal, to a certain vision, and he knew they would willingly follow if asked, down into the gutter and to oblivion. For the first time he understood how Eliza had done it, and it was all so simple.
They were at a crossroad. North or south: there were no other choices. The generator waited to their south, as did closure. To the north, who could say? It would be a long road, and painful. If what he'd told both Eliza and Regina was ever to mean anything, it would have to be done.
"I'm headed north," Edward Kirk said, calm at last. "There's nothing left for us here. She won. We need to acknowledge this, but I don't intend to stop now. Follow me or not: the choice is yours."
He addressed his statement to the open air and the northern road. Whatever desires they had, what had led them to western command on this day, was irrelevant. The choice would have to be made in any case. It still came as a surprise when the three of them followed without another word.
The roads grew even quieter as they continued into the north-western district, as abandoned as ever. The ancient buildings were still intact; the fighting had never progressed to this point, though even in the south it was growing quieter. None of them asked where they were headed. Whether it was anything more than a faint hope or not, he couldn't know.
As it came into view at last the cathedral glimmered ever so slightly in the dark, the faint moonlight shining off its stained glass windows. They'd been alone in the world ever since emerging from the industrial district into the old residential area in the elevated north-west. Now he could see two figures slumped against the white stone of the cathedral, an abandoned rifle at their side.
Even the sight of Lyra, armed and clad in the blue uniform of their enemies, prompted little response. One looked up when Edward came into view; he raised a hand and gave a lethargic wave, unwilling or unable to stand. The watchtower above loomed over them.
The older of the two murmured something to his companion as they reached the ornate doors. His voice was rough, familiar. The same watchman who'd been waiting on their last visit.
"Are you members of the militia?" Rick asked, realising Edward was unwilling to speak. "We're with Colonel Royce, from the independent southern district, can you spare any medical supplies?"
The watchman waved at the door. "Help yourself. Nobody else came back; it's all yours."
It was as he'd expected, but it was no less painful to hear confirmation. Rick nodded his gratitude and took Melissa inside. The watchman stared, not accusingly, and heaved a long sigh. "I'd ask, but I don't need to. You've got that look in your eye now, cold and dead. I don't blame you. We never had much hope." He took another long look at Lyra and shook his companion. She'd been shot in the abdomen, and looked close to death.
"There was a burst of light in the east. What happened after that? Has the fighting stopped?"
"It doesn't matter. Truth is, I can't be bothered looking. See for yourself. I'll keep watch here," the watchman said, snorting derisively. Shaking his companion again, she slumped to one side, motionless. He sighed, resting his head on the stone wall, and looked up at the sky.
They left him there and proceeded inside. It was dark, illuminated only by a small lamp and the faint moonlight. Rick was treating Melissa's wound as best he could, the blood dripping onto the bed underneath. He doubted its owner would care, turning to begin the long climb up the ladder. Lyra, unprompted, followed behind him.
Merestan was all but unlit, the overcast night sky obscuring the moon and bathing the city in the faintest light he'd ever seen. The western command centre loomed over them, the sole source of light in a darkened world, and he could see the edge of the viewing platform. The artillery had fallen silent at last, as had the fleet in the southern sea.
"Look," Lyra said, and he could hear the fear in her voice. The north-eastern outskirts, no longer bathed in the light of the Third Energy, had been overtaken by a legion of vehicles. Armoured cars and troop carriers descended on the city as they watched, the full division stationed under Liebert in the north unleashed at last. In the south he could see the faintest hints of what must have been the southern army under Royce, and they were retreating further south with each minute. It was over.
"It's magnificent, isn't it? That was all it took to turn our victory into the harshest of defeats. It was done so elegantly, and that's enough to leave us some small hope," Edward said, watching as the convoy reached the eastern district at last. The night would be a long one.
"Hope? We're finished, you know we are. You tried, and we made it further than we might've, but it's over. All we can do now is run," Lyra said. She was scared, and he heard it in her voice: the uniform and rifle had disguised the person underneath, but she was still there, and he knew what had to be done.
"Running is the one thing we can't do. She'll find us, one way or another, and I refuse to submit so easily. Let's go. We're going to give them something to fight for," he said, turning back to the ladder. There were raised voices within, he heard, and at least one was a promising sign.
Jumping down the last few rungs, he saw Rick standing, the pistol back in his hand. The doors had opened once more. A woman entered, her dull green clothes stained with mud, grime, and worse, and she stared back silently. She was alone, he knew.
"General Hereson is dead. Western command is under the joint control of Eliza Anders and Colonel Liebert, her puppet. Central command and the capital have been destroyed. Now the military is moving to seize the city, and Royce is retreating," Edward announced, meeting her harsh stare without hesitation. "What news do you have for me?"
She was silent for too long. "You know what news I have. We failed. In every way, we failed. The ceremonial guard were waiting, and by the time we escaped Harper had evaded us. We continued, but it was for nothing. You saw it, didn't you? A star in the east, burning everything it touched, as promised," Andrea Kesler said, a despairing note in her voice.
"What of the others? Did they—"
"I don't know," Kesler said, unable to conceal her anguish. "We were separated, and even when Gail arrived to save us we were outmatched. By the time we fought past the ceremonial guard we were too late, but Dmitri was there, and the Borginian militia with him. They knew we were coming. As for the others, they may have been moving south, but I can't be sure. So many of us were killed." She collapsed into a chair, head in her hands. "It was all for nothing, wasn't it?"
"No," he said, willing himself to have the strength to hold them together. "It wasn't for nothing. Alvernia is finished. There is no central government, and Eliza doesn't intend to rule. Societal breakdown is the first step, and that gives us an opportunity."
Kesler looked up, utterly exhausted. "You're going south, then? To find her?" Lyra's wrist communicator lit up green, and she answered it with trepidation.
It was difficult to answer. Rick was watching, he saw, and he understood. To go south now, to chase a faint hope, would be meaningless. He would kill them all in the process, and if he did find Regina alive? It would make no difference. They'd be condemned to live in a world of Eliza's making, and they were the few left who knew it was her to blame for what had befallen them.
"No, we're not," Edward said, suppressing his doubt. "We're going to gather the remnants of your militia, and we're going to build it into a force capable of doing to her what she has done to us."
Kesler nearly laughed. "It'll never work now. The city's hers. We only survived this long because the state was intact and they couldn't justify the use of force so easily. There's nothing to stop them now. Liebert is a northerner, one of the original revolutionaries, as he put it. At least until she gave him a better offer, and he's been there ever since."
That information only strengthened his belief that this was the only way forward. "You're right. We can't stay here. We'll die if we attempt to move south or east. But the north was already fractured. If we follow the coast past the mountains we'll avoid the military entirely. There are resistance groups in the north, undoubtedly; it was so recently subjugated, and we can enlist their aid." Unless that wasn't the issue. "One failure isn't the end. There was nothing you could do, and your skills are needed more for it, not less."
Kesler looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes, and Rick approached again, almost cautiously. "We passed through the south to get here. You'll never make it to Polostin again, and they'll be looking for us. Like it or not, I don't see much choice."
There was another reason, Edward thought, to head north. The north was Harper's home, and his justification stemmed from the atrocities committed by the military during its subjugation. Liebert was the northern commander, and the man had just committed his forces to seizing Merestan, leaving his rebellious home province lightly defended. How could Harper ever justify crushing a group so much like his own, becoming what he hated in full?
The opportunity for answers would come then, and it would bring with it the satisfaction of a righteous cause. The state had been crushed, but the military was stronger than ever, and he knew what had to be done. If Eliza would willingly descend into the depths, as she had, so be it; he was no different, but Harper was not like them. Both he and Regina had limits, passionate ideals, no matter how well they concealed them, and it had shown. The life he'd built would be worse than death.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked back to see an ever more anxious Lyra waiting.
"Two of the squads I commanded just fled western command," she said, almost nervously. "They were attacked in the barracks by northern soldiers and don't know what's happening, but they said Hereson's staff have all been executed. What do I do?"
He looked back at Kesler. "Well? Are you going to help us, or are you going to wait here until the shock troops arrive? There are easier ways to die, if that's what you want. You know what capture means."
Again, she took some time to answer, looking down at her holstered pistol. It was a comforting option, and always would be. But she shook her head, standing with effort. "Even now, you surprise me. I'll gather anyone I can. I can't imagine many will want to stay here and die; those who do will make their own arrangements. I can handle them, but you'd better know what you're doing."
"Tell your squads to head to the coast directly west of here," he said to Lyra, who immediately complied. "Have them bring any other dissidents. We'll have each group travel separately. And you two?" he asked, looking at Rick and Melissa, though the latter had been sedated and barely looked awake.
"We can't do much without contacting Royce. Even then, I don't know. The Third Energy changes everything, Kirk. I know you tried to stop it, and I'll do what I can to help. That doesn't mean I trust you, but it'll have to be enough," Rick said, returning to finish extracting the bullet from Melissa's shoulder.
It was enough for him. Trust had to be earned, and even then it was rarely deserved. He preferred they didn't trust him, that they would stop him when it was necessary, as it surely would be. Eliza would use the Third Energy as a threat, paralysing both Royce and Borginia. Her allies would grant her everything, and it would never be enough. Even if his efforts had been enough to damage the generator, the threat alone would be more than enough to subdue any force with anything to lose.
He had no illusions as to their chances. There were reasons for optimism, but not many. If Regina and Gail had survived their path would be no easier traversing the war-torn south. It was such a simple thing, to be thrown together and pulled apart again without a modicum of fanfare. If they had died, and he knew it was all but certain, there were two more deaths he regretted.
Never before had he cared, and in one day these four lives suddenly seemed important. His impersonal respect for Hereson, his close connection with Regina—why was it different now? Eliza wouldn't have known either, and that much, at least, was satisfying.
He stepped outside, slipping between the ornate doors, and the watchman greeted him again. To his surprise Lyra followed, rifle in her hands, as if she felt the need to guard him. He made no comment, again recalling Eliza with Kosra at her side. The similarities were superficial, he decided, and if they weren't he would persevere until they were.
The night air had grown cold and damp. He took a deep breath and looked up, almost taking a step back in surprise. The overcast skies were giving way at last, the clouds retreating into the northern sky. Shining through the clouds were the radiant stars, unobscured by the city's lights for the first night in a lifetime.
They watched in silence for some time as the sky shifted, the clouds rolling back and forth, exposing glimpses of a vibrant world concealed just out of sight. There was a calmness to the night, he decided, almost present in defiance of the relentless conflict.
"I didn't know the sky could look like this," Lyra said, so softly he almost misheard her. "It's beautiful. Shame it's so cloudy. Nothing ever happens the way it should."
Edward realised he was smiling, if only faintly. "It's exactly as it should be." A brief reprieve from an endless series of losses, little more than a faint hint of hope as the world collapsed around them. For once he didn't despair.