"Revelation can be more perilous than Revolution."

- Vladimir Nobakov

Chapter Two

Welcome the Radicals

"Radical-attack destroys Eden-neighbourhood in Hessan—an Eden-colon. No residence of the neighbourhood has been found alive," a reporter with wild, curly brown hair on the screen of my tablet says. "This is the fourth attack on the Eden-military within an extent of two weeks. All Edens are advised to stay inside their homes or somewhere under the protection of the Military. More details will be given to the public as they become available to the media. Stay tuned."

I pause the broadcast, turning the tablet off in the process.

My father had left four days ago, and, per request of my mother—who really does try her best to make everyone happy—my first extra-credit assignment for History is to watch the news, then write down a comparison between how things have changed from a hundred years ago to present.

I push my hair out of my eyes impatiently, and then add the news-report I'd just watched to what I've already written down:

News report from 29th June, 5147:

This day was listed by the Ruling Government as an average day in the Original Colonies. Everything was peaceful and there were no enemies to be dealt with.

News report from 29th June, 5247:

Today the Radicals attacked a neighbourhood in an Eden-colony: JT377—commonly known as Hessan. No-one who was listed as a resident of the neighbourhood has been found alive and all escape-pods on that side of the Colony are rumoured to still be intact. Citizens of various Eden-colonies and neighbourhoods surrounding Hessan have been advised to stay indoors if possible.

"Grayson Carstairs!"

I look at the sound of my name, nervously wondering what I've done wrong now, but I smile when I see that it's only two of my friends: Third Year Tatiana Monroe, and Fifth Year Hayes Patterson.

They're strolling across the courtyard as slow as humanly possible, since they have absolutely no reason to rush. This is in contrast to me, since I am always running from one place to the next.

Hayes slides onto the wooden bench next to me, and Tatiana sits down across from us, smiling broadly as she always does.

"What has you so exited, Tatia?" I ask, trying to ignore the feeling of Hayes sitting next to me.

Hayes is my Adam.

Ever since I read the part of Adam proposing to Tracey, all I've been able to do is daydream about Adam being Hayes and Tracey being my.

"Aced my math-test," Tatiana says with a twinkle in her large brown eyes. Her dad is a doctor at the Nerian Private Hospital just down the road from our school, and her mother is some kind of scientist; very smart, very opinionated people. But I've come to like them, so I don't really mind their blatancy anymore.

"Well done," I comment, returning my best-friend's smile. "Your dad finally accepted that you didn't make Fifth Year Algebra?"

Tatiana nods. "Finally, yes." She produces a think carrot-stick from her graffiti-ed shoulder-bag and takes a bite. "You've been scarce lately, Gray. Why do you insist on doing homework in free periods?"

"Because my mother has 'suggested' that I ask for extra-credit assignments in History, and Keller has blanketed me with so much work that I probably won't finish on time if I don't work twenty-four-seven," I say, only half serious. My mother's 'suggestions' are her specials ways of telling me that I really don't have much of a choice.

But there is another reason as well: Graythorn Academy's large campus is much more peaceful than my bedroom at home, and also a lot less distracting.

At home, I have a picture of me and Hayes standing on my desk, and I enjoy staring at him much more than I enjoy doing French or Latin homework.

"Sounds like fun," Hayes says, and then he asks Tatiana for one of her carrot-stick. She slides one across the table without looking at him.

"You see the news this morning?" Tatiana asks me, and I nod, looking at the grassy courtyard stretched out in front of the school's main-building. "You two?"

"Yeah." Tatiana sounds wistful. "Pretty grim. And sad. A whole neighbourhood destroyed for not reason; hundreds of people dead because the Radicals can't keep their tempers under control."

I close my eyes and bite my tongue until I taste blood. Tatiana is an Eden inside out, and it kills me that I can't tell her how much I disagree with her statement.

The Radicals aren't destroying Eden-neighbourhoods because they can't keep their tempers under control; they're doing it to prove that they will not stand to be treated like a lesser species—to remove themselves from under the hand of oppression.

They are doing exactly what the Edens would've done given the tables were turned.

But I am an Eden, and this prohibits me from arguing with Tatiana.

"It's sad, yes; but let's be thankful that neither the RFA nor the Eden-military are crazy enough to attack a Neutral Colony. Especially the one where the Facility of Medical Research is stationed."

Looking at this watch, then at me with his gorgeous brown eyes and half a carrot-stick hanging out of his mouth jokingly, Hayes says, "Bell's gonna ring. I'd start packing up if I were you—Keller will kill you if you're late." He raises one perfect brown eyebrow. "Tatia said he called your mother a few days to complain about your behaviour in class?"

A wave of petty jealousy briefly washes over my, but I ignore it. Tatiana and Hayes are just friends; there is nothing for me to be jealous about. Tatiana would tell me if something had happened between them.

With a sigh, I take Hayes's advice and pack my things away, putting my bag down on the bench next to me. "Yeah, he did."

"That's gotta bite," Tatiana comments unhelpfully, finishing her fourth carrot-stick. Or is her fifth? I'm not sure. Tatiana's curly, corkscrew hair is fanned out around her head like a halo, catching the golden sunlight. "What did your mom say? Did she do that thing where she scrubs the top of the stove until her fingers are practically bleeding?"

I laugh, and just as I'm about to say something, an alarm goes off.

The attack-alarm.

Tatiana stands up slowly, taking her time to stretch out and gather her things. "It's probably just a drill," she says when she notices Hayes and me looking at her strangely. "This is Nerian, people! One of the safest Colonies in the universe, if not the safest. And like you said, Gray, the Facility is in here; we're not being attacked." She gestures at the main-building with her head. "Let's go. Before Mr Keller gives us detention for not hurrying."

"Tatiana is probably right," Hayes says, rising out of his seat next to me as well and dusting off his grey school-trousers.

After a moment, I follow, ignoring the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes it hard for me to stay upright.

The three of us cross the courtyard to the activities hall together.

Tatiana is right: I find out from Mr Keller, who at this point is ticking off names on his tablet as students file into the activities hall, that the alarm is indeed only a drill; a test to see if the student-body of Graythorn Academy's reactions are still up to standard.

The results are inconclusive still.

"Let's go sit down," Hayes whispers into my ear, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. He takes me by my elbow and steers me towards the corner closest to us, where Tatia is already waiting. The place where he touches me feels as if it's on fire. "I get the feeling this is going to take a while."

Just as I'm about to sit down next to Hayes on the grime-covered floor, I realize that I no longer have an immense weight dragging my left shoulder to the ground—I forgot my bag on the bench outside in the courtyard.

Whispering, "I'll be right back," to Hayes, I get up again, briefly explain to Mr Keller where I'm going, and then head for the door.

For some reason, when I look behind me, I see Hayes frowning. He looks somehow uncomfortable sitting alone with Tatiana.

Has something happened between them that I'm not aware of?

Whatever it is, I'll find out later.

Everything on campus is calm and serene and perfect. I run across the courtyard as quietly as I can, not wanting to disturb the peace.

Graythorn Academy is a bustle of movement most of the time. Students are always travelling from one class to the next; teachers run around in search of things that lay forgotten; bells ring every hour on the hour, and announcements are constantly being played over the intercoms.

Never a dull moment, I suppose. Never a quiet one either.

I spot my fake leather bag long before I reach the bench, and, with a sigh of relief, speed up my pace.

The dry Autumn-time leaves underneath my feet crunch loudly—ever more so in the utter silence.

I reach the bench slight out of breath and sit down, figuring that I still have some time before I need to start heading back. I marvel at the beauty that is Graythorn's large campus.

The main-building is an ancient Georgian-style mansion built of red brick with a high, sloping roof and big windows over-looking a big blue lake at the back. The front door is made of dark oak, finished with old-fashioned brass hinges and handles.

The grassy courtyard in front of the mansion is perfectly manicured and dotted with bright flowers. Tables and benches have been spread out on and around it.

Bright pink Cherry blossom-trees surround the gravel paths on either side of the courtyard, leading to the main-building's front steps—carved from pure white marble.

The rest of the campus is divided into different sectors:

The sports-sector surrounds the lake, where you can literally participate in any sport currently in existence. I usually avoid that part of the grounds.

The music-rooms and concert-hall border the main-building to the left, and the art-gallery and classrooms to the right; which is where I choose to spend most of my time.

Both the art and music-blocks were added to campus a few years before Tatiana and I started high school in 5245.

The science-sector is way at the back of campus, where the students can experiment as much—and as loudly—as the want without disturbing the rest of the student-body.

And all the 'mainstream-classes', as I like to refer to them as, like languages, History or Geography, and math, are given in the main-building.

A vibrating in my ear shakes me from my reverie.

For a moment, I don't know where I am or what I'm doing here, but slowly everything comes back:

I'm in the courtyard, fetching the bag I'd forgotten here, that's all.

The vibrating doesn't stop.

Normally I wouldn't answer the stupid CT-chip—which acts as both my cell phone and a tracking-device—my mother had had implanted into my left ear as a thirteenth birthday present, but when I hear the tiny machine say Hayes's name, I can' t resist.

I touch the tip of my ear softly and wait until a hazy image of Hayes appears in front of my eyes.

"Where are you?" he asks before I can say anything. His voice sounds oddly panicked, which is weird, since Hayes never sounds anything other than relaxed. The image is pixelated, which means that I need to have the CT-chip upgraded.

I sigh at the thought in my head.

Having a CT-chip implanted for the first time hurts; having one upgraded is excruciating at best.

"I'm outside," I tell Hayes. "I just want to catch my breath before I come back."

"Well, hurry up," he says with a scowl, which transforms his face from completely gorgeous to slightly frightening. "They're about to do roll call."

"I'm on my way now," I say standing up. I sling my back over my shoulder and take a step in the right direction. I don't really want to go back. "Cover for me if need be."

Hayes sighs. "Fine." He cuts the link for I can thank him.

I touch the tip of my ear again and the blue and white webbed screen disappears in an instant.

Just then, then alarm starts screaming again and I flinch, the high-pitched noise surprising me. I start in the direction of the activities hall, but I can't ignore the feeling that something is very wrong this time. The alarm seems almost softer, as if it's further away than before.

Feeling the panic rise in the pit of my stomach, I speed up my pace.

You're safe here, Gray, I tell myself, chanting the words in my head like a mantra.

But when the wind grows considerably stronger and the synthetic sky turns into a murky shade of dark grey, a different thought pushes its way into my head.

I came to a standstill, fear freezing the blood in my veins and disabling my ability to move forward, as the realization dawns on me.

The Colony is actually under attack.

It can't be, I try to convince myself. You're overreacting.

But I am not as ignorant as my friends.

Barely five seconds later, a voice over the intercom-system confirms my fear: "All citizens of the Nerian-colony, take cover; this is not a drill. I repeat: All citizens of the Nerian-colony, take cover; this is not a drill."

She doesn't say more than what is absolutely necessary.

Large black and blue hovercrafts appear in the murky sky above me, trailed by thick clouds of very real smoke.

Black and blue are RFA-colours, which means that the Radicals are attacking by means of air. I feel the blood draining from my face. It won't take them very long to destroy the Colony that way.

I don't know much of Radicalism—or what it means to be Enhanced—partly because they don't include it in the yearly syllabus, but mostly because I've never really had the urge to learn more about the way they live or what they believe in. There has to be reasons for why they live the way they live—and not the reasons that the Eden-military is giving us—I just haven't cared enough to find out what they are.

I had asked my mother once, when I was a little girl, why the Edens disliked the Radicals so much, but Maria had only laughed and called me a silly child.

I haven't brought it up again.

Now, standing outside on my own in the midst of the first Radical-attack on Nerian since its construction, I get the feeling that I should've pushed a little harder.

My senses return to me all at once and I start to move again, sticking as close to the shadows as possible. As I run, I try to recall the set of rules my homeroom teacher of three years ago had insisted on forcing into my head in the event of an air-raid:

1. Stay out of the open.

2. Be under the surface is possible.

3. Never go outside if you are already inside your predetermined safe location (the activities hall).

4. Remain calm and quiet.

5. Be as close to the ground as possible when travelling to your predetermined safe location (the activities hall).

6. Hurry!

I push my hair off of my forehead impatiently and grind my teeth together. There are two paths I can take: Across the courtyard—which is the quickest way—and then around the corner; or along the wall, through the main-building and concert-hall, down the steps and then across the cafeteria—which is the safer option, but much longer. And if only one door is locked, I'd have to turn around and start again.

Making a split-second decision, I step away from the little protection that the wall offers me and into the dangerous openness of the once-quaint courtyard.

Everything that had seemed so peaceful a moment ago, now holds malice and evil.

The flowers seem dead; the trees swing and moan viciously in the wind; the school seems abandoned.

I run as fast as I can this time and make it so the other side in a few seconds—the fastest I've ever had to cross the grassy expanse of land.

The wall on the other side is the softest of embraces, and I sag against it, struggling to keep my mounting panic under control.

Why haven't they started dropping bombs yet? From what I've seen on the news, it usually only takes the RFA seconds to destroy a Colony. Why is Nerian any different?

And like you said, Gray, the Facility is in here; we're not being attacked.

Tatiana's word echo in the back of my head, and I suddenly realize why they haven't officially started the attack yet: They're looking for something.

The alarms are no longer blaring and the woman on the intercom has gone quiet—everything seems almost peaceful again.

If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine that none of this is happening; I can pretend that I'm still sitting with Tatiana and Hayes, talking about Mr Keller's undying dislike of me. Slowly, I open my eyes again.

I can't pretend. No matter how hard I try—and how much I want to—I can't pretend that my life isn't in danger; that all of my friends and classmates aren't sitting in the activities hall right now, probably minutes away from being shot to pieces by invading soldiers.

With the image of Tatiana, Hayes, and my other to close friends, Callie and Xavier Reymont, lying lifeless on the dirty floor, blood soaking their school uniforms a darker shade of crimson, I push forward and round the corner, only to come to a stop yet again.

In front of my, slightly to the left, stands a dark green and grey Gen—large, military-grade fighting-machines like the ones Adrianna LeeBritannia had used on Earth, only bigger and stronger—that towers high over my four-storey school. I marvel at the machine in awe. I've only ever seen Gens on the news; never in real life.

But that's only because Gens aren't allowed to enter Nerian.

The machine is stationary, and a young-looking boy with pitch-black hair is standing near its feet, talking to someone I can't see. His back is to me, and I notice that he's wearing a blue and black soldiers' uniform—navy-blue blazer, constrictive-looking black trousers, and combat boots—with a gun strapped to his thigh.

I step in behind the closest Cherry blossom-tree to avoid being seen, and listen.

"Yes, we found the machines beneath the school," the boy say. "But there are no students; they seem to have evacuated already." His voice is eerily familiar, but I can't match it to a face.

He's a Radical, Gray¸ I think irritably, annoyed that my thoughts are drifting to places that are of no relevance. Why the hell would you know him?

But even with the thought spinning around in my head, I can't shake the feeling of familiarity.

"We've searched the entire school, and we can't find them!" he says is a harsh whisper. "I've sent Caleb to do another round, but I doubt we'll find anything."

I let out a breath; one I hadn't noticed I was holding.

If the invades haven't found any of the other students yet, it means that the teachers have taken them to through the underground tunnels to the escape-pods.

For now, my friends are still safe.

The boy has started pacing, counting something on his fingers frantically. "Fine. Fine! I'll see what I can do."

Seconds later he falls silent, leaning against the bulky leg of his Gen.

"All Radical-soldiers are to evacuate the Colony immediately, as warfare in Nerian is strictly forbidden. Drastic measures will be taken to expel you from the city if you fail to heed this warning," my father's voice resonates over the intercoms, enveloping me in the sound I hate the most. "I repeat: All Radical-soldiers are to evacuate the Colony immediately, as warfare in Nerian is strictly forbidden. Drastic measures will be taken to expel you from the city if you fail to heed this warning."

Briefly I wonder when my father had come back. He's usually gone for a few months.

The boy slams his fist against the base of the Gen, scaring me out of my reverie. "Dammit!"He touches the tip of his ear, just as I had done earlier when I spoke with Hayes, and waits for whoever he's calling to answer.

"Caleb!" he says after what feels like an excruciatingly long moment of silence. "Have you found anything yet?"

There is more silence as the boy waits for whoever Caleb is to answer.

"You're sure?" the boy asks. "Okay, I'll meet your there in ten minutes. Don't use your Gen just yet; don't engage in combat unless it's absolutely necessary; and try to stick to the shadows. The Edens will be here soon by the sound of it."

The boy disconnects the call and checks his gun, first making sure that no-one is watching him from somewhere unseen. His gaze sweeps past the tree behind which I'm hiding, and, in an attempt to better conceal myself, I take a hesitant step back . . . and end up tripping over the root of the tree and falling flat on my face.

For a moment, I feel like Clumsy Gray from back in Third Grade.

I'd been chasing after Tatiana on the playground one day when I slipped and fell, hitting my head on the edge of some concrete stairs.

My left eyebrow is now permanently split in two.

When the soldier's gaze rests on me, I know my chances of getting away are slim. I take another hesitant step back, excruciating pain shooting up my leg, and try to figure out what my next move is going to be.

Thus far, my options, like my face at this moment probably, look bleak:

If I ran, he'll just shoot me; if I stay rooted to the spot, he'll probably shoot me as well. Either way I end up with a bullet through my head.

Then suddenly, the boy cripples to the ground, a cry of agony escaping from his lips. I step behind the tree again with a wince and watch as a soldier dressed in a dark green and grey uniform appears from behind the Gen.

An Eden-soldier.

They're here already?

Just as I think this, multiple Eden-spaceships fill the sky in perfect synchronization, heading in the direction of the school's football fields.

I look from the dark sky to the boy on the ground, and a memory suddenly flows into my head; one of me and a boy I use to know:

"Slow down, Gray!" Fallon shouts, running up the gravel-path behind, trying his best to catch up. I laugh, speeding up instead of slowing down.

When I hear him cry out, however, I come to a complete standstill. I turn around quickly and run back to where he has collapsed on the ground, clutching his chest and heaving as if he had just run a marathon.

"Is the pain back again?" I ask in a small voice, kneeling down beside my best-friend. He seems almost too frail to touch.

Artificial-thunder booms loudly, and I grind my teeth together to stop from crying out. Fallon needs me; I can't seem frightened now because the weather-panel chose today to administrate a thunderstorm in the Colony. To calm my nerves, I tell myself that it isn't real; that nothing in here is real.

Fallon's answer to my earlier question comes in the form of a nod; he looks everywhere except at me.

Even at only ten years old, Fallon is embarrassed to admit to his rare heart-condition; to the fact that he needs a little more help than other children his age. He says it makes him feel like a lesser person; it makes him weak. He once even told me that his heart-condition is the reason his father had decided to leave his mother.

I don't see him as weak, of course; I think his condition makes me twice as strong as anyone with a healthy heart.

Sitting up with a great effort, Fallon reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and retrieves a small white pill-container. He dry-swallows one and looks at me with frightened blue eyes. "I don't want to be like this anymore, Gray," he says quietly, a tear escaping from the corner of his eye. "I want to be strong; I want to be someone you can rely on."

As he says this, fat drops of rain start pouring down from above, soaking us both within seconds. The wind blows my short red hair into my face, and I push it away impatiently, rivulets of water trailing down my forehead.

"I don't want someone strong," I say softly, taking his thin, fragile hand in my own. "All I want is you, Fall, as my best-friend. Forever and always."

"Grayson, Fallon, come inside!" a shadow calls from the inside of Fallon's house. "Mom says you'll catch a cold if you stay outside in the rain."

Fallon's older brother, Haylan, appears in the doorframe, beckoning me and Fallon inside with a wave of his hand.

That's all I can remember of that day; and I'm not even sure that I'm remembering it correctly.

There is one thing I do know, though, and that is this: The soldier lying on the ground is Haylan Pearce—my best-friend's older brother; a boy I had once looked up to.

But that doesn't make sense. Both Fallon and Haylan are Edens like me. Why is Haylan dressed like a Radical-soldier?

Without thinking, I grab the silver switchblade I stow in my bag in case of emergencies, and throw it at the advancing Eden. My mind is screaming at me to stop what I'm doing and run while I still can.

Surprisingly, the knife buries itself in the soldier' left arm and he drops his gun, staggering back.

I take his moment of stunned confusion to run to Haylan—Hayle, as Fallon and I use t call him. "Give me your gun," I say quickly, pure adrenaline fuelling my every action. I have no idea how to use a gun, but I know that if I can throw a knife somewhat accurately, I can pretend I know how to pull a trigger.

Haylan looks at me with a spark of recognition in his vivid blue eyes—eyes that remind me of Fallon—but doesn't respond, so I bend over him and pick up the small pistol that he had dropped when the Eden-soldier had taken him by surprise. I'm careful not to touch the place where he'd been shot—that that I can see where that is.

Haylan groans.

While I awkwardly point the foreign object at the now-again advancing soldier, my mind screams: This is stupid, Gray! He's an Eden, just like you! Drop the gun and let him do his job.

But Haylan is also an Eden! I shout back at my swirling thoughts. There has to be a reason he's fighting for the Radicals!

I try to ignore the turmoil going on inside my head and stand on shaking legs, my grip wavering just slightly. "Don't come any closer," I stutter, cold-sweat dripping down my spine. "Or I'll shoot."

The Eden-soldier plucks the knife from his upper-arm, tosses it to the ground as if it is nothing, and laughs. "You're just a silly little schoolgirl; what damage can you really do?" he says harshly. "And besides, why would you want to shoot someone who's here to protect you?"

I aim the barrel of the gun just slightly to the man's left and pull the trigger.

He jumps, but doesn't stop moving forward.

"You have to kill him," Haylan croaks weakly, clutching his left shoulder. Blood soaks dark uniform and seeps through his now-pale fingers. "Or he'll kill us."

I hesitated, and the Eden-soldier takes that moment to prove Haylan's point: He aims his gun at my left leg and pulls the trigger without hesitated, a nasty grin on his sweaty face.

I tumble to the ground and scream out in agony, dropping the gun and clutching at my leg tightly in an attempt to numb the pain. Tears stain my cheeks and my vision swims dangerously; the world becomes blurry.

"Nice job, idiot," Haylan says, but he isn't talking to me; he's talking to the Eden. "You just shot yourself out of a job."

The Eden looks at Haylan; even I don't know what Haylan is implying.

Haylan rolls his eyes. "For God's sake," he says, sounding impatient. "You just shot the Chief Commander's daughter!"

I want to laugh, but I stop myself. Only a Pearce would want to find the irony in a situation as dire as this one.

Realization dawns on the soldier's face, but it's gone in an instant: Haylan has pulled the trigger. The man is dead before I can ever comprehend what has happened.

Haylan screams, and I turn to him in time to see him writhing in agony, clutching his arm tightly.

With the shock of witnessing someone die in front of my own eyes settling into my skin, I momentarily forget about the pain travelling up and down my own leg.

Haylan asking, "Are you alright," after what feels like forever brings me back to the here and now. Nauseating pain overtakes me again and a high-pitched scream involuntarily escapes from my lips. I regret showing such a weakness in front of Fallon's older brother immediately, but what can I do about it? Absolutely nothing, that's what.

My eyes started drooping, and before I can stop it, everything goes black.