PART TWO

Four people had died on the trip to Detroit. Wade expected it would be the older folks, even the little girl, but it wasn't. Three people his own age, and a middle-aged woman.

Wade had to guard over the grave diggers, watching them. It was useless to feel any sympathy for them, he knew. Their shaking hands and the crying of the one they called Patricia, it bothered him. He remembered the clinic where his mother had died.

He wanted to look away from the wailing, but Mayer was watching him just as often as he watched the diggers.

They rode the highway down to Arbor, then followed the road into Detroit. Control was at the gates, watching all travelers. Towers loomed in the dark sky, lit up in the gloom, behind the high gates of the city. Wade and Mayer drove the people into the city, while Bradley and Angus led them through the gates. The toddler dropped a toy, and Wade retrieved it. It was burnt, along with the clothes they wore into the city.

Everyone was disinfected. The chemical showers were the cleanest part of the city, as Mayer joked. Sigma was debriefed and released on leave, a reward for their patriotic behavior. Wade returned to his father's home for an afternoon, visiting his many siblings.

He couldn't tell them what Sigma had done. It was against the conditioning, against the rules set by Paramount. He wouldn't have told them, anyway. It brought shame to his mind to admit that he'd had thoughts about letting the people escape. Treason!

He'd have to report to Bradley that he was thinking against orders, and report for reconditioning.

Wade sat on the roof of the building where he lived in Detroit, cobbled together with bits of the broken city. He'd not been back for some time, now. Black smoke from the Chryslus plant covered the sky, with only the occasional bit of heavy cloud showing through to prove it was daytime. The massive ruins of the city rose up around him like jutting fingers. He felt small, breathing in the heavy air, moving sluggishly. Heat and an acrid smell wrapped him tightly.

He pushed his hair off his forehead and looked out at the world he'd grown up in. He couldn't imagine growing up in the wastes, having such freedom. He couldn't imagine life in a Vault, either, or any life where he didn't have the oppressive skies overhead to remind him that all safety came with duty.

When Wade joined Sigma for the first time, he'd had nightmares about the open land. Now, he was having nightmares about it again, but this time he was being denied the chance to go back.

The fire barrels burning in the city streets, the people listlessly wandering, soldiers watching their every move. Wade sighed to himself. It felt like he'd been robbed of something, but he couldn't place a finger on it. He stared out at the glittering lights of the Temple of Solomon, lit up like nothing else in this forsaken world, the only building in Detroit that wasn't studded with antenna arrays and radio towers. It was lit up with strings of floodlights, standing tall against the sky like an angel unfolding it's wings.

Tomorrow, he would report to Bradley, and go to the Temple for conditioning.

"Test him, again," General Mercado ordered, watching the courtyard from the window of his office.

In the yard, Wade waited, helmet under his arm and eyes forward. He hoped he would pass, this time.

"Helmets on!" the drill sergeant ordered. "Arms up!"

Wade latched his helmet onto his armor and raised his pistol. Three other soldiers did the same, but this was their first visit to the courtyard. All total, this would be Wade's third time around.

He didn't understand why he'd not been able to follow the trigger words, why he couldn't do as he was ordered without fail. Maybe being out in the wastes had changed him. He'd never heard of any other Paramount soldiers rejecting the conditioning, though most voluntarily allowed for it to be done repeatedly. The High Ferrule encouraged this, lauded personal praise on those who would willingly submit to the teachings. Some people submitted every available chance, like Mayer, because they wished to join the church.

"Listen!" the drill sergeant called. "In a moment, this courtyard will be filled with targets. This isn't free break! Your orders are to terminate the red, but not the black! Red!"

A klaxon sounded and three doors around the yard opened. A mass of people spilled out of each door, herded out into a chain link enclosure spanning from one side of the yard to the other. Wade, along with the three others, held his weapon firm and assessed the targets. Many people were running back and forth, some had sunk to the ground in fear, and even more were coming up to the fence and calling insults at the soldiers. A few red-marked outfits peeked through the throng.

The others fired without hesitation, each shooting once into the crowd. Wade looked through the group of people, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger. If anyone is watching over me, please help me, he thought.

The people were rounded up and pushed back through the doors. Three red outfits, one black. Wade hung his head.

He was stripped of his armor and ordered into civilian dress, then taken to see General Mercado. The military complex headquarters for Paramount was a simple building, but this belied the Pre-War glory of the inside. Faded curtains against the walls, framed portraits with faces no longer recognizable, even a few chipped marble busts on pedestals, lined the hallway as Wade was seen into Mercado's office by his grim-faced secretary.

The atmosphere in the room was suffocating. Wade waited for so long, he half expected there to be a hidden sniper somewhere, waiting for the moment to take him out. His eyes darted around the room, and he took a step forward tentatively.

"So, it is true," a voice came. Wade jerked to his left to see Mercado standing in a doorway he hadn't noticed, calmly drinking a cup of coffee. Mercado was ruddy, with square-cut steel-colored hair and cool gray eyes. Wade imagined the man had been born in the factories of Detroit, that they had simply pressed him out of the machines.

Wade flushed. The general moved to his desk, setting down the coffee cup, but not sitting himself. He shuffled some papers and picked a thick sheaf up, looking up at Wade. "Well!" the general said, looking through the paperwork and leaning on the desk. "Wade, you are the first Paramount soldier to have ever rejected conditioning, twice."

"Sir, I-"

"Exactly!" the general said, sweeping his coffee cup off the desk in his excited movement. "No talking! No trying to explain! Silence!" Wade was silent. "Good!" the general said. "You can at least obey some simple orders without issue."

Wade tried not to let himself feel the fear beating in his heart. He was going to die. He knew it. He would be executed for treason.

"Now, your case makes it hard for me," the general said, putting the paperwork aside and crunching ceramic under his feet as he moved away from the desk. He put his hands on his hips. "You weren't a very good soldier, were you, Wade?"

He opened, then closed his mouth.

"Bradley's reports show a dramatic decline in performance in combat, though you did start off strong. Your other skills have only improved. Particularly of interest was your report on the infrasonic emitter, which I will come back to. It is recommended by Bradley that you be re-assigned to Control, preferably in your old technician position." He chuckled to himself. "And your team did not have a high opinion of you in general, did they, monster bait?"

Wade felt his face get hotter. He knew what he would say about Mayer and Angus, respectively.

"Given that you are considered non-viable as a soldier, it is my duty to herewith affirm that Paramount has no need for your services." The general smiled amicably at Wade. "I might have applied you to an engineering spot, but unfortunately, with your rejection of conditioning..." He held out a hand, palm up. "Luckily for you, I was given priority orders this morning. My decision is to follow the High Ferrule's recommendation, and order you to visit the Temple, for guidance. Cardinal Burgess will admit you."

Wade's heart sank into his chest.

"Do you have anything, at all, to say? Something that isn't an excuse?"

"No, sir," Wade said, and threw up the three-finger salute.

"That's quite enough of that, Mr. Wade. Report to the Temple, immediately." The general saw him to the door.