Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) (14 page)

Brooks and Wilde walked away without another word, and McCall led the way inside the Communications Tower, speaking low to 301 as they went, “The armies of the World System have gotten careless during these years of peace. They have forgotten the fear of defeat. Silent Thunder is well aware of the System’s weaknesses and will try to exploit them all. If it comes to an all out battle, Specter may be all that stands between them and another victory.”

“Sir, I feel compelled to tell you again that I’m almost certain the rebels will attack the Tower,” 301 said. “Major Graves did not lie to us.”

“I know,” McCall said grimly. “It is the army of Spectral-adepts I doubt, Captain. Not to mention that we have no clue as to
when
the attack might come. But if it is true, we cannot afford to be caught unawares, and so I will proceed as though there is no doubt.”

Specter made its way through the doors of the Tower onto the ground level, where Fourteenth Army soldiers were already shifting into their new positions. Very little else remained on the floor, a huge octagonal space that served as the Tower’s security level. The more sensitive the equipment, the higher the floor on which it was housed, all the way up to uplink control and the Master Dish.

“Have all the Tower’s security and personnel been evacuated?” 301 asked.

“The personnel will remain until the attack appears imminent,” McCall replied. “We can’t allow this threat to close our communications channels for longer than necessary. Security will stay for the duration and aid in the Tower’s defense.”

“What do you want us to do, sir?” 301 asked.

The admiral sighed, “We’re not going to be much use until a battle presents itself. Thick-headed as your old general may be, he will follow my orders as I have outlined, so there is no need to waste your time with the positioning of troops. I need you focused and ready if the Tower is attacked, so I recommend you take your positions on the upper floors. I’d like you and Blaine to guard the Master Dish, and thus be the Tower’s last line of defense. That dish must be protected at all costs, Captain. Losing our Weapons Manufacturing Facility was bad enough, but if we are unable to even
call
for more weapons and ammunition from other divisions, we will be in quite a situation.”

“We will take care of it, sir,” 301 nodded.

“Other than that, there’s nothing left to do but the thing we soldiers do worst: wait for the events of the night to unfold.”

-X-

Admiral McCall’s predictions proved true. The rest of the evening passed in relative boredom, as preparations were complete within an hour of their arrival. Afterwards 301 spent the majority of the time on the roof of the Tower with Derek, keeping watch over the field for any sign of trouble.

As sunset rolled on by, 301 had ample time with his thoughts, most of which turned to his time with Grace in the palace during his Specter training. He remembered the feelings that overcame him any time she was near, the way they used to spend hours every night just talking, the way the touch of her skin had felt when she showed him a new move with the Gladius—truly it was like a different life, and he had been a different man. Had she known, then, who he truly was? Had she kept it from him?

Derek finished another survey of the area around the Tower and joined him at the ledge, where they could see for miles in the fading light. The silhouettes of Alexandria’s skyscrapers decorated the skyline, and 301 couldn’t help but see a certain beauty in it. This was his city…his home. He had to prevent Grand Admiral Donalson from burning it to the ground.

“I never said thank you,” Derek said into the silence.

301 turned toward him, confused, “For what?”

“Today on that ship, I thought that would be it for me,” Derek replied. “I wasn’t careful, and I let her get to me. That’s the second time I have accepted death only to have you pull me back from it. I owe you, Captain.”

“We’re partners, Derek,” 301 said. “If I don’t stick my neck out when there’s a chance I can save your life, then what’s the point? Isn’t that why you gave me credit for Jacob Sawyer’s death?”

Derek nodded, “I suppose it is. Though there was something selfish in it. You’re the closest thing to a true friend I’ve ever had, Captain. I didn’t want to go through the trouble of replacing you.”

301 chuckled, “So we’re friends now, are we?”

“My father always said that when you find a person greater than yourself you must stick by them, and hope that some of that greatness rubs off on you.” Derek looked away. “You’re a far better man than I am, 301. Had our positions been reversed today, I would have let Liz have you.”

301 didn’t know what to say to that. When he had first met Derek he had been sure their bitter rivalry could only end in death, but their relationship had changed slowly throughout Specter training. They had a mutual respect, and then their shared experience in the Weapons Manufacturing Facility when they took on those rebels alone had transformed them into something more. Friends? Maybe. But in any case, they were no longer rivals.

He shifted his gaze down the forty-story height to the ground below. The number of soldiers on the field had been depleted by McCall’s reapportionment, but there were still enough outside to make a fearsome display. Stars shone brightly overhead, and the air was eerily silent. The only sounds 301 could hear for a while were his own breathing and the low hum of the Master Dish behind him.

“Do you believe in destiny, Blaine?” he asked.

“Destiny? As in fate? Predestination?”

“As in being chosen,” 301 said. “Chosen for something significant. Something that could change everything.”

Derek thought for a moment, searching for answers in the clear night sky. Then he answered, “I think a man chooses his own path, and those choices shape the world around him. We are no more meant to change the world than the world is meant to change. It just happens as a part of the natural cycle.”

“When I was a boy at the orphanage, I always believed that one day someone would come for me. I don’t know why, but I felt something was wrong with my life…that I had been placed on some kind of detour that needed a course-correction, and was not the person I was meant to be. For many years I expected someone would arrive to tell me what this feeling meant, that perhaps I was destined for something greater than a life of servitude in the Great Army. But then one day, those expectations just stopped. I decided to make my own destiny…carve my own fate.”

“And so you have,” Derek said. “Something to be proud of.”

“But say that person I was waiting for all those years finally arrived,” 301 said carefully. “And what they told me could destroy everything I have built.”

“Our choices make us who we are, Captain,” Derek replied. “You’re not here because you’re
supposed
to be. You’re here because you have what it takes. And as for how you felt as a child, I’m sure you would hear a similar story from thousands of orphans that were raised in this city—it’s a coping mechanism for dealing with being alone in the world, to hold on to hope that you are
not
alone. No one can tell you who you are, 301. No one but you.”

“Yes,” 301 nodded, wanting with all his heart to believe it. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’d wager you would even find some who grew up in normal families who dreamed those same dreams,” Derek’s tone darkened. “There were times in my childhood when I would have given anything to exchange places with you, and that’s not an exaggeration. Life can be as unkind to the wealthy as to the poor.”

“I have noticed that in all the times we have been to your family’s estate, we have never crossed paths with your father.”

Something indiscernible flashed in Derek’s eyes, and 301 wondered if he had gone too far. But after an uncomfortable moment in silence, Derek answered with feigned indifference, “He’s a powerful man, and busy, so that’s understandable. But I’d be lying if I said we saw eye-to-eye on much of anything. He hasn’t really been the same since Mother…” he broke off, as though only just realizing he had been speaking at all. He cleared his throat and finished, “It doesn’t matter. He has his life and I have mine, and we have reached a point where only chance will see them cross.”

301 ventured a question, knowing he would probably not receive a direct answer, “What happened to your mother?”

Derek paused yet again, but then to 301’s surprise proceeded to answer, “She—”

A wave of static sounded in their ears, and their attentions returned to the field below as General Brooks’ voice came through, “We have some activity on the ground.”

301 pulled out a set of binoculars he had taken from the Tower’s security and surveyed the perimeter. Made of little more than closely planted trees several hundred yards from the base of the Tower, it ensured that anyone walking toward them would be spotted without fail. After a few quick sweeps with his eyes, he saw a person emerge from behind the trees, walking at a slow pace. He couldn’t see too many details from so far away, aside from discerning that the figure wore a gray cloak.

“Admiral,” 301 said into his earphone, “we have a single figure approaching from the northeast approximately five hundred yards from the Tower.”

McCall burst onto the roof just as the captain finished his sentence and came up in between the two Specters. 301 offered the admiral his binoculars, and McCall muttered under his breath as he looked through them, “Only one man…” He lowered the binoculars and turned to the Specter Captain, “What do you make of it?”

301 took the binoculars again and gazed out onto the field. The cloaked figure walked for several more strides, and a sinking feeling came over 301 as he recognized something unique about that walk. It was lithe, regal, and proud—every movement a very picture of Grace. The figure stopped about three hundred yards away and stood still on the grass as though waiting for something. 301 whispered his thoughts aloud, forgetting there were others around to hear, “It’s her.”

McCall turned his gaze upon him, “Her? Who do you mean?”

“Sawyer,” 301 replied, no longer seeing any reason to hide it. “That’s Grace Sawyer.”

“You don’t know that,” McCall snapped. “You
can’t
know that.”

“We’ve got more activity down here,” Brooks’ voice announced in their ears. “Shall we fire?”

“No,” McCall replied. “Do not engage the enemy until Specter gives the command.”

301 watched as four more figures cloaked in the same pale gray emerged from the trees, then four more from a different side. These eight walked up and stood with the first, four on each side. “There are now nine hostiles on the field. Ten more approaching from north northeast…ten from east-northeast. Perhaps it is time to call in the Ninth, Admiral.”

“Not yet,” McCall insisted. “It could still be a diversion.”

But as the admiral spoke more and more cloaked figures came into view, their numbers swelling exponentially. Behind the first figure there now stood fifty, then a hundred, two hundred, and then more than 301 could count—and still more came.

“It would seem ‘increased rebel activity’ was a bit of an understatement,” Derek said. “More like a rebel explosion.”

“And all of them Spectral-adepts,” 301 said dryly. “Is this the Phantom Army you spoke of, Admiral? The force that has never lost a full-on battle?”

McCall’s eyes were wide with fear and awe, “It is. Sawyer must have reunited the commanders.” He turned and headed back toward the door. “Take command, Captain. I must inform the MWR of this immediately.”

“Very well, sir,” 301’s heart began to beat faster as the admiral left the roof. “Specter Marcus, are you seeing this?”

“Yes,” came his reply. “Clearer than I’d like to. How are we supposed to fight that, Captain?”

“Admiral McCall is requesting our reinforcements, but we will have to hold the Tower ourselves until they arrive. Our best chance would be to shut off the elevators and force them into the stairwells. If they catch us in the open, we’re dead, but their numbers will not help them in a confined space. Team two will take the south stairwell, three the north. You and Dodson will split to support each team. Descend until you encounter the enemy, then hold them as long as possible.”

“What about the Fourteenth Army?” Marcus asked. “They’ll be cut to shreds.”

301 gritted his teeth, knowing without a doubt that he was right. But what could they do? It was too late for them. “Just get those elevators turned off, Marcus.” He switched over to the Great Army’s frequency. “General Brooks, are your men prepared to engage the enemy?”

“Yes, Specter Captain. The Fourteenth is ready to open fire on your command.”

“Captain, something is happening,” Derek said, nodding toward the field where the Phantom Army had assembled.

301 focused the binoculars on the figure he believed to be Grace as she reached inside her cloak and produced the hilt of her Spectral Gladius. She held it out to her side as the blade shot out and the diamond armor ignited. In unison, the Phantom Army drew their own blades, and there was a magnified metal grating sound as all the blades activated simultaneously, and then the terrifying noise of hundreds of blades humming their song into the darkness—the sound of a Spectral army.

The leader raised the Gladius high into the air and shouted something 301 couldn’t hear, and the rebels roared a cry of war.

And then the Phantom Army charged.

12