Chapter Six
There were two officers before him, and their eyes hated him bad, but their words hated worse.
Alma held her son and daughter gingerly, as if she knew what she ought to do but had no more feeling to give.
"Where is heaven?" Sally demanded.
"Somewhere you can't follow," said Kruger.
His partner was far too considerate in these situations. Gross huffed.
"But they should know where!" Gross pointed at the kid, the boy. He sure as hell recognized that face, knew that face knew him, and he hated him. "They should know exactly what they've done."
"Us?!" Sally's mouth dropped open.
"I'll tell you later," Alma said quietly.
"You haven't been teaching them?" Gross approached the woman, who flinched in response and hated herself for it. She'd faced Tiberius Senior, and no officer could be worse.
"I'm sure she has…but their education has been quite disturbed. You understand," Dina said quickly from the corner where she stood, wondering if his was how Grisha had felt all those years ago. If only she were stronger – just wait until their son, her son, transformed and wrecked these evil men.
Sally opened her mouth, and Tiberius knew, he just knew, his sister was about to tell the fat rat officer exactly how much she hated him. Maybe she'd even include some of Dad's swears.
Dad, who was dead, who'd stolen Tiberius' only escape. If heaven wasn't safe, Tiberius had nowhere left to run.
He dove across the bed and Mom to clamp his hand over her mouth, as he'd done so frequently whenever Dad raged.
"Ow!" Sally sank her teeth into his hand. She'd never done that before.
"Monsters!" Gross wrinkled his lips and hopped back like the coward he was. "Monsters."
They heard you the first time. Kruger backed out of the room. That girl might be a good recruit in a few years…for the next titan shifter.
His skin prickled at the idea of death. Did God minimize punishment if you'd skinned the hands of fathers who'd only used their fists to punch their children? Though one minimized punishment shouldn't save his moth-eaten soul.
"You don't like that I mock them."
"I don't see the point. Should their deaths not be enough to remind them of their place?" Kruger eyed his partner.
"That boy should be dead, too," groused Gross.
"Well, he's not."
"Thank you for your realism. You lack imagination, you know that? It's a wonder you ever made it to Sergeant Major. Imagination's best used to enhance your power." Gross stopped outside the hospital to light a cigarette.
Kruger took the one offered to him silently. "And using your imagination here will help you how, exactly?"
"Can't." Gross scoffed, though he enjoyed any chance to play philosophy. "I'm too poor and lacking connections. I've risen as far as I can. But it reminds me that I could do better, if the world was fair."
"I didn't take you for someone who cared for a fair world."
"Oh, I don't much care. But in a world that's unfair, it's our duty to make sure it's as fair as possible for ourselves, however we can. Otherwise, why be alive?" Gross blew out a stream of smoke. "Say, you've never told me: what's your philosophy on life?"
Kruger frowned.
"Let me guess: follow all the rules as best as you can, deny yourself every drink and laugh and fuck, because you're a man of principle."
"Have you ever known me to refuse a drink?"
"You don't get drunk."
"Yes, so I can cover your ass when you set the Colonel's office on fire," Kruger said.
"That was a long time ago!" Gross laughed, and spent the rest of their voyage out of Liberio bantering with his partner. He didn't really care to know any philosophy besides his own.
Kruger, meanwhile, was quite relieved that he hadn't had concoct a new philosophy. The imprisoned made free would not sound nice to Gross.
The room down the hall housed Father's meetings. His secretary had waved her in with a smile and assurance that Father was currently alone in his office.
But Ilona had no intentions of visiting Father yet. She scurried down the opposite end of the hallway, up the creaking stairs, back to the fifth floor and the dusty attic.
She hadn't been outside much for the last week, but today she was determined to find out exactly what this titan program entailed.
Boxes of records were strewn across the attic, soldier transcripts and every census for the last two centuries. But on several splintering bookshelves that looked like they had been made two hundred years ago, she found the meeting minutes for the council.
The program had been announced a year and a half past, she recalled, and begun almost a year ago. During that time, there had been an infinite number of council meetings, from the look of it. She sighed, yanked the surprisingly heavy paper stack off the shelves, and began reading. Blast whoever had written this, and their terrible handwriting with them.
Spring [date smudged].
Action Items
Military propose implementation of a new titan program to gain entrance to Paradi Island. Council unanimous that this is necessary, though Councilmen Adler and Fiennes, along with Mayor Minsk, retain objections to deceiving Eldian citizens, and Councilwoman Japes questions the trustworthiness of any Eldian. General Vincent believes the program will be ready in half a year.
Action
Review program details in six months.
At least Father had tried to protest – but only the use of deceit – and what exactly were they deceiving them on? The penalty for failure seemed well-known to the Eldians.
Ilona's head pounded. Would her own Father, the Father who loved her, who'd approved Eldian aid, really approve this?
Maybe to easy his guilty conscience, whispered her mind.
She shoved the paper into her sleeve, much like Kruger, and rushed down the stairs.
Maybe his secretary would tell him she'd come. Maybe she could confront him, punch him, scream at him, demand to know why, why, why, who had threatened him for him to approve something so awful?!
Ilona heaved a deep breath outside, trying to soothe the feeling of teetering on the edge of reality. But her ears roared with the voices of dead children.
She closed her eyes to jail the hot tears welling up. Father, the man who'd raised her to think independently, the man who'd encouraged her passions, the man who hugged her every night still, thought a war more important than dead children.
"Children will die in the war," she whispered aloud, cracking open her eyes. Perhaps that was why? Where did numbers matter in morality?
"Ilona."
She focused on the bulky figure before her, fighting back the screaming thoughts grappling for her mind. "Jack?"
"Uh, newspaper's down the street, if you recall." Jack pointed behind him.
"Is something wrong? You're acting awfully strange." He shouldn't know her, right? They'd agreed. That was real, right?
"I think this is worth coming to my office for."
Ilona crouched down besides Jack and pressed her hand over her mouth to muffle her sob.
"Hey." Jack struggled to his knees, placing his hand on her shoulder. Thankfully, he'd risked everything and called her into his office to deliver the news. This scene on the street, even if at night, wouldn't do. "I'm sorry. It happens."
"It shouldn't." Ilona wiped her eyes. "I promised him I could save him."
"The kid?" Ordinarily, Jack would have lectured her, but what good would that do? Tiberius Berg, Senior, was dead. He'd long learned people had their right to mourn.
"I see why you said promises were dangerous. Fuck!" Ilona pounded her skirt. She was going to become just like Father, wasn't she?
"Hey. Heyheyheyheyhey." Jack wrestled for her hands. "No – I mean, yeah, this's why I said they were dangerous. But you still have the kids alive. Sometimes, dangerous saves lives."
"What, are you going back on your advice now?" She forced a tear-stained smile.
"Circling around it, shall we say." Jack lifted her to her feet. "See, now you know how tempting it is to lose any idealism, to say 'fuck the world, let it burn.'" He sighed. "But I'd hate to see you do that. We're reporters. We bank on ordinary people's sense of justice. We've gotta save some idealism for that."
Ilona shook her head. "How?"
"You're alive. You get to see the blue sky and fat gulls and hand out candy to Eldian children. You get to remember the good parts, and don't for a minute let them ruin the bad." Jack paused and shrugged. "At least, that's what Muriel told me after her fifth … er, miscarriage."
"Muriel…Jack, I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
So she was still willing to give her heart to empathy. She was gonna be okay. Jack smiled wryly. "I cry much more than her."
"That'd be a fun sight to see." Ilona laughed.
"You never will!" Jack warned, and she repaid him with her characteristic smirk, just as the thought of facing Tiberius hit her and gorge rose in her throat.
"You still seem rather quiet today," Miller remarked.
"I'll be all right." Ilona couldn't quite look at any soldier the same way again. Children being turned into weapons – and dying in the process – and fathers, even terrible, abusive ones, executed for menial crimes. How did anyone in the military live with themselves?
How could Father?
"Are you still ill? You know, visiting Liberio is probably why you caught ill to begin with."
Ilona paused midstep. "You know, for once, I would like a man in my life not to lecture me. Do you think you could manage that, or shall I continue on alone?"
"You're not behaving like yourself at all." Miller crossed his arms. "What's wrong? In your state, you shouldn't over-exert yourself."
"Would you say that if I were an Eldian?"
"An Eldian wouldn't be visiting Liberio."
"I suppose." Ilona sighed. "Would you like to know the real reason I'm visiting today, Miller?"
"That sounds suspicious." He frowned.
"That family we visited? Their father was the man who escaped last week."
"Oh. Oh." Miller blinked. "Was he in a drunken stupor or something?"
"I don't have the details." Ilona lowered her eyes. "I only know that a man who was not a threat is dead, as if he were."
"But the Eldians are a threat!"
"Are they?" Ilona whirled around. "Miller! They committed those crimes generations and generations ago. They can't help who they are born as."
"Ilona, it's dangerous to voice those opinions." Privately, Private Miller might just agree with the irate lady before him. But others – people better and smarter than he – disagreed. Who was he to say otherwise?
"Maybe I don't care."
"What's put you in such a self-destructive mood?"
"Maybe someone needs to be!" Ilona cringed at her outburst. "Well, perhaps not that. But, at least, perhaps we need to be broken enough about suffering to risk self-destruction for things to actually change?"
"Are you asking my opinion?" Miller said hesitantly. No one asked what he thought.
"If you'd care to give it." She turned to him with eyes that radiated genuine care.
Did he even remember how? He'd long stopped his opinions at feelings, rather than thoughts.
"I think most people talk about change and grand gestures all the time, in the army and in politics and evidently in socialite circles as well." Her face colored at the term 'socialite,' but he plunged ahead. "And I think complacency is dangerous, but so is extremism."
"Well, yes, but what is extremism, then?" Ilona threw back. Climbing out a chimney and spying on soldiers in the midst of night? Taking your daughter out of Liberio in a drunken rage? Saving a bleeding rich girl? Or sacrificing children to win a war?
"I don't know, and I think humanity will debate this until we die."
"We shouldn't," Ilona said sullenly.
"Oh, I agree." Miller thought for a moment as they entered Liberio. "Thank you for permitting me to speak, Miss Minsk."
Ilona's mouth opened. "Of course. You're always welcome to speak your mind around me, Private Miller. Even if I may not always, er, welcome the opinion."
They chuckled together as Ilona stepped up to the doctor's shop. "I received word Ti - the Bergs were sheltered here for the time being."
Miller huffed. "You know more about this city than a spy."
Ilona winked at him, almost giddy with fear at what awaited her inside.
"Miss Minsk?" Dina tried not to glower at the officer behind Ilona. The kid was still crying upstairs, and well he should. "We weren't expecting you."
"I know. I heard about Mr. Berg. I – May I come in?" Ilona fiddled with her gloves.
Dina was surprised at the pain in the Marleyan's voice. Really, at this point, any goodness in a Marleyan surprised her, but she didn't find it an unpleasant surprise. She stepped aside. "Please."
Tiberius's bitter eyes met her. Zeke, poor Zeke, had his arms wrapped tight around his friend, and he glared at her too.
"I heard about your father. I'm sorry – I thought after a week, he had evaded detection." Ilona's red, painted lips trembled.
"He would have if he wasn't drunk and worthless."
"You don't mean that," Ilona said as Dina gasped behind her. He ought to direct vitriol towards her, not his dead father.
"So? Does it matter? He's still dead." Tiberius shrugged, but his eyes blazed.
Zeke flushed. He hated anger. Anger was frightening.
"He didn't deserve to die," Ilona whispered.
"Didn't he? He nearly killed Mother and Sally," said Tiberius. "Or is it because he's just an Eldian? Or is it because no one cares, so he might as well die?"
Ilona looked to Dina and Miller. "Can you give us privacy?"
He nodded. The kids' eyes bored into him, angry and teary and scary.
"Someone cared enough to kill him," Ilona said as Dina shut the door.
"I don't know if that's better or worse." Tiberius doubled over. He hated crying in front of that prim soldier guarding Ilona, but someone had had to. "I should have died to make people care, not him. That's all I wanted."
"I know. And I wish I could have saved him too, but I'm still glad you're here, even if you hate me," Ilona said, matching him tear for tear. And she was an adult. "Tiberius, I'm sorry – I'm so sorry. I should never have promised."
Tiberius's mouth dropped. "Never? No, you should have, and then you should have kept it! Better – it's still better that you promised!"
"In the end, I'm a weak human, same as you." Ilona hiccupped. "And it's not an excuse or a reason, and it's not enough, but it's all I can think to say."
"You care about my dad more than me." Tiberius shuddered with shame.
"You feel numb?"
Tiberius nodded silently, then cried out and punched himself in the head.
"Tiberius, stop." Ilona sank down to his level, though she didn't dare approach him. "Tiberius, did you know numb is what you feel when you're saddest? When you're so sad you can't bear it, your mind tries to numb itself to protect you, because your mind cares about you. My mother has a chronic illness that makes her very, very sad for years on end, but she describes it as numb. You are sad, and you're not bad for feeling the way you feel."
"Really?" Tiberius sniffled. "I'm sorry about your mother." Should he have thought of her mother when his father was dead?
No matter. She smiled sweetly at him. "You're a very good kid, Tiberius. I wish I were a better adult."
"You're nicer than most Marleyans." Tiberius approached her. "The ones who visited – they were the same ones you saved me from."
Ilona appeared shocked. "B-both?"
"Sometimes I'm afraid they knew who I was and killed Dad because of me." He collapsed into her embrace.
"No, no, no – they would have killed him just for who he was born as – an Eldian. It's so unfair," Ilona said, wrapping her arms tight around him. How – how could – had he?
She gave very warm hugs, the kind Zeke gave, the kind he wished Mother would give him.
"Do you think all Eldians are evil? Tiberius whispered.
Ilona's breath caught, and she drew back to look him in the eyes. "No. I know you're not. I think words like Eldia and Marley don't tell a single thing about who is good or bad."
In defeating Eldia, they'd become Eldia, hadn't they? Only worse, because they ought to have learned that no one should suffer as they had.
"I think Eldia and Marley both hurt each other, but Marley's hurting you worse now, and I'm so sorry."
"But you didn't hurt me." Tiberius frowned.
"But … I feel like … I should have done something, anything more desperate to stop it sooner. And then – if we stopped hurting you – that would have helped your father." Ilona wiped her eyes.
Tiberius glanced around, remembering his friend's tears last night, before they knew about father, when Zeke had said what if I die? And Tiberius had told him no one I know can die, twelve hours and a million feelings before. "If you want to help us, then you should help Zeke."
Ilona wrinkled her nose. "Zeke?"
"He's scared." Should he dare?
"What is he scared of?" Ilona couldn't picture Dina or Grisha beating their son.
"He's in the Titan program and he needs to save Eldia by becoming a titan," Tiberius leaned into her ear and rushed his words. "I think if – if someone in Marley helped him, it might help."
"Was this Zeke's idea?" Ilona asked carefully. Darn it, had he gone too far, betraying the adults?
Tiberius shook his head.
"Whose was it?" Her voice was kind. She didn't view him a tattletale.
"His dad. Dr. Jaeger leads these people called 'The Eldian Restorationalists.' They want to help Eldians, see. But they have a Marleyan insider they've named Night Owl. I was thinking since you like Zeke, you could be like the insider – the Night Owl – for me and Zeke."
I know this chapter was a bit slow, but I think it's necessary and I like it. :P There will be much more next week! :)