The Poet Heroic (The Kota Series) Page 6

  Those villagers didn’t deserve being factored, thought Vale. No one does. And I’m certainly not going to let it happen again to this next target.

  Just then, ahead, Vale spotted a solitary man leaning against the rail of the bridge. He had checked his watch twice since within sight. He kept looking in Vale’s direction as if expecting someone.

  “I think that’s him,” said Nocturna’s mind-voice.

  Vale looked past the man and saw Nocturna and Evant approaching from the other direction. Adjusting his path so that he could cut off the man if he ran, Vale tugged his hood farther over his face and walked with the briefcase in clearer view. The case reflected the lights of the bridge, and the shine of light-on-metal caught the potential operative’s attention. The man studied the briefcase, and his mind flushed with greed and satisfaction.

  Bingo, thought Vale.

  The man stepped away from the rail and examined Vale as he walked closer. “Excuse me. Do you happen to know-”

  Then the light must’ve caught Vale at just the right angle, and the operative’s face froze in horror.

  Shit, thought Vale.

  The operative turned to run in the opposite direction, but Nocturna and Evant were right there to meet him.

  “Shh.” Nocturna reached out and grabbed the man’s wrist, skin to skin. “Sleep.”

  Her mutate-genetic ability to sedate through touch worked quickly. The operative tottered before completely going limp, and Evant caught him as he slumped. Quickly, Evant threw one of the man’s arms over his shoulder to support him.

  By now, pedestrians were watching.

  “Oh, Andru,” Nocturna scolded loudly. “Always drunk before even getting to the party.”

  Vale took the man’s other arm to support him from that side. Together he and Evant dragged away the unconscious operative.

  “Any idea where his next target was?” asked Evant.

  “Yeah, I heard the executive thinking about the BMO factory. We need to find this guy’s vehicle and make sure that next DRK canister never gets delivered.”

  Nocturna was quite pleased with herself. She skipped ahead, twirling her purse – never mind the gun inside – as she ran ahead. “I’ll find Andru’s car.”

  It was late by the time they reached the BMO factory. Vale had driven the operative’s car out of downtown Berlin, through the poorer streets of the suburbs, and finally into the old manufacturing district. The entire area was in ruins from centuries of war, but it was clear that the citizens were trying to restore the town. Vale had seen many similar situations during his past year on the Mainland – anywhere there was anything salvageable, citizens were trying to rebuild, especially if it meant living close to a Dominion metropolis. It wasn’t surprising the Underground had a base here, for they too needed to be close to supplies.

  Vale parked the car at the rusted gate of the factory and shut off the engine. The rebel trio climbed out, and Evant lifted the unconscious operative over his shoulder. Then they stood together, in the clouded moonlight, and looked through the gate at the forsaken building. No lights. No sounds of humanity. The breeze brought smells of mold and rust.

  “Sure this is right?” asked Evant.

  Nocturna walked to the control panel by the gate. She flicked the buttons. “Dead.”

  A loud voice cut over the wind, “Dead is exactly what you’ll be unless you put your hands in the air right now!”

  Vale and Nocturna held up their hands and looked around. From a cluster of trees along the road, a soldier with a rifle hurried towards them. Evant turned with the operative and slowly slid the unconscious man to the ground. Then he too raised his arms.

  Another soldier appeared from the trees and joined the first. “Who are you people?”

  “No questions until we get them inside,” said the first soldier. He waved his weapon at them and pointed to the gate. “It’s open. Move. I’m taking you to Commander Scribe. Be quick, before we’re spotted out here.”

  Evant sent Vale a look. “They’re taking us into their base? Good lord, these people are idiots! They don’t know who we are, if we brought backup, if we’re armed…”

  “Do as they say,” Vale told his partners.

  Keeping his hands over his hooded head, he waited until Nocturna opened the gate. Then he led them inside the compound. The gravel parking lot was bare, and Vale studied the factory as they approached. Windows too high to escape from. Only the one cargo door. The side door they were headed for seemed the only way to quietly get in or out.

  Suddenly, this door opened, and the soldiers behind ushered them inside.

  Immediately inside, light sticks illuminated the open factory floor. Dozens of Underground soldiers worked among rows of vehicles. A squad of soldiers had been alerted and hurried their way, and the man in the lead was obviously the commander in charge. He was in his early fifties, fit, with balding hair. He wore the standard Underground uniform, as did his men, but his face wore as serious an expression as Vale had ever seen, and his eyes held all the signs of authority.

  This must be Commander Scribe, thought Vale. I hope this was a good idea…

  “Bring them to my office,” Scribe ordered the soldiers guarding them. He stepped through a door into a side room, which in the factory’s former life had been a processing office.

  Once ushered inside this office, Vale watched as their soldier escorts lowered the operative into a chair. The man was still out cold from Nocturna’s gift. Scribe paid the unconscious man no mind but leaned on his desk and listened as the soldiers quickly explained what had happened.

  Evant was staring at the ceiling, trying to keep quiet about the stupidity of these soldiers’ tactics.

  Nocturna looked at Vale and shrugged.

  They hadn’t even handcuffed Vale. Quickly, he reached up and pushed the hood off his face.

  The soldiers whipped around because of his sudden movement, and they shouted an alarm when they saw his face. Weapons rose to aim at all three newcomers, and Vale momentarily regretted his action.

  “Hold,” Scribe ordered his men. He looked at Vale for a solid minute, then paid Evant and Nocturna a passing glance.

  I might regret this, thought Vale, but…

  Meeting the commander’s eyes, Vale sent feelings of calm, trust, and acceptance into Scribe’s mind. Then he telepathically said, “It’s okay, sir. We come in peace. This man is the operative who released the DRK into the village where some of your people were hiding. We thought it right that he be handed over to the Underground, so we brought him to you when we learned that this base was his next target.”

  Once the commander’s mind was returned to his own control, he slumped and sat on the desk. He held up a hand to his men that he was okay, and then he looked at Vale again. “Holy, shit, kid.”

  “Sir?” asked a soldier.

  Scribe wiped his face. “Clear the room. All of you.”

  “Sir?”

  “Do it.” He glared, and his men rushed to obey.

  Soon the door closed, and Vale, Nocturna, Evant, and the unconscious operative were alone in the room with the commander.

  The older man gave Vale a hesitant look. “I’m not sure I can say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Beathabane, but I’m Commander-”

  “Scribe,” Vale finished. He nodded. “Yes, sir. I caught that. I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re in a bit of a rush. I can’t ever stay in public long, and so many of your men have seen me…”

  Scribe remained seated on the edge of his desk and seemed to still be collecting himself.

  “First time with a telepath, sir?” asked Nocturna with a grin.

  Scribe chuckled and shook off his thoughts. “Alright, son. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I trust you. I take it you want something, or else why would you hand-deliver this scum?” He glared at the sleeping operative.

  “I brought him here so you could deal with him as you see fit,” said Vale. He shrugged. “You people deserve justice for what happen
ed to that village, so I wanted to bring you the guy responsible. I thought, at the very least, that we should warn you the Dominion knows about this base. You should get your people to safety before Cruelthor tries to factor everyone here.”

  “Not that the Underground would warn us if roles were reversed,” thought Evant.

  Vale ignored this and sensed in Scribe’s mind that the man was still trying to decide what to do. The Underground wasn’t known for kind treatment of Dominion defectors. Scribe seemed to be wrestling with that now.

  And the Underground tried to kill me once before, Vale thought as he remembered the attack in Vancouver’s woods.

  “Also,” Vale added hurriedly, “we have half a million kronar in a briefcase in our car. Take it. I’m sure you can put it to good use.”

  “Beathabane,” Evant said aloud in surprise.

  Nocturna sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Tat’s going to be disappointed. She was going to buy so much jewelry with her cut.”

  Vale tried not to roll his eyes at his partners and instead faced Scribe.

  The commander had an eyebrow raised at the sum. “Okay. Thank you. I imagine you want me to report this to my superiors to convince them you’re a good guy? I’m sure you’ve heard that all bases have been ordered to refuse you if you seek asylum in our camps?”

  “Yeah. I heard that.” Vale shuffled on his feet. “I’d appreciate any good word you could put in for me. For us.”

  Scribe’s gaze wandered to Evant and Nocturna. He seemed amused. “This your team? A bunch of kids?”

  Evant’s dark brow furrowed. “We’re not kids. And even if we were brainwashed in the Dominion Youth, we’re still better trained than half your-”

  “Not helping,” Nocturna said through a fake smile.

  Scribe chuckled. “What do you call yourselves? Beathabane’s Band of Merry Men, or something like that?”

  “We’re called the Hood,” Evant said with a glare.

  The commander faced Vale again, his eyes moving – as everyone’s did – to the tattoo. “Yeah, I’m guessing you have to cover yourself as much as possible.”

  Vale reached up to replace the hood over his head. He had a flash of a childhood memory when Vedanleé had done the same thing with the black cloak she’d always worn. Everyone thought he’d named his rebel group after his own hood – he alone kept the secret that he thought of his mom every time he used the disguise.

  Scribe was still thinking. “Since your brother exiled you, there’ve been rumors about why he hates and fears you so much. I think I’m starting to see why – I assume he knows you can read his mind?”

  Frowning, Vale nodded.

  “Makes sense.” Scribe scratched his jaw and sighed, looking at the operative. “Well, you’d better get out of here before any of my men report you’re here. I’ll try to talk to my superiors, but I can’t promise anything.”

  “I understand.” With that, Vale motioned for Evant and Nocturna to follow him out.

  Leaving the office, Vale walked between his friends and headed for the exit. He glanced around from under his hood and saw soldiers around the factory staring now. Word had spread fast. He heard whispers, and he saw a few soldiers point at him. Quickening his pace, he lowered his head, pulled his hood lower, and watched his steps.

  “Come on,” said Nocturna as she opened the door. “Let’s get back to the others.”

  It was the middle of the night when the trio finally returned to the executive’s hotel suite. They entered to find Tat sleeping on the giant bed, surrounded by the loose kronar tubes they’d promised the executive. Dynk sat in a chair opposite their prisoner, who’d been cleaned up and moved onto a sofa, though his hands were still tied. Babbitt sat at the computer terminal.

  “All good?” called Dynk.

  “Yeah,” said Evant with a glance at Vale.

  Vale hadn’t spoken much on their return trip.

  We’re all seen as untrustworthy, he thought. But Evant, Nocturna, Dynk… Their origins might be forgiven by the other rebels eventually. They might be able to prove their worth so they can fight right alongside the Underground. But my face will never be accepted. The rebels won’t ever forget exactly where I come from.

  Nocturna came and stood with Vale by the kitchenette’s counter. She put a hand on his arm kindly, and the human contact eased his tension – although he didn’t think she was using her gift.

  “I’m okay,” he told her with a weak smile. He pushed his hood off his head and rubbed his shaved head.

  Nocturna leaned beside him against the counter. “We’re with you, Vale. You know that.”

  “Uh, guys,” Babbitt called from the computer.

  Vale looked over and saw Babbitt waving for him.

  With Nocturna by his side, Vale walked over as Evant also joined them. Together they stood in front of the giant screen. A newsfeed was paused, and Babbitt activated the controls once they were paying attention.

  “It’s a joyous day at the new Capitol,” the reporter was saying. She stood with a large crowd in front of the enormous Dominion compound. “After months and months of search, Cruelthor’s long-lost sister has at last been found.”

  Vale gasped.

  “She was brought to Capital City this morning,” the reporter went on. “We haven’t received much news yet except that she is a healthy, seven-year-old girl and that Cruelthor is absolutely thrilled to have her home.”

  “Shit,” said Evant.

  The newsfeed switched stories, and Babbitt reached forward and deactivated the system.

  Vale took a step back and leaned on the counter.

  She’s alive, he thought. All this time, I thought maybe Cruelthor lied to me and wanted me to find her so he could kill her. Thank God she’s alright.

  He turned and rested his head on the cool marble counter, tuned out the others, and cried in relief.

  But where is Mom? he thought suddenly. How did Cruelthor get our sister away from her? I don’t think he killed Mom – if he’d killed her, he would’ve bragged about it with a public announcement. Mom must still be out there somewhere. I guess there’s nothing more I can do. Wherever she is, she’s always managed to protect herself before. And now at least I know where my sister is. I can stop worrying…

  Finally, Nocturna’s hand on his back couldn’t be ignored. “Beathabane?”

  He stood up and faced his friends. He gave them a smile, not quite of happiness but certainly of relief. “She’s alive.”

  Nocturna nodded with a sympathetic smile. “What do you want us to do? She’s your sister. If you want, we’ll go back with you. We’ll find a way to the Northern Continent so we can rescue her.”

  Vale looked around at his team. At his family.

  We’d never be able to break into the Capitol compound, he thought. I’d get them all killed – and I’ve certainly learned my lesson about risking their lives for my personal vendettas.

  He took a deep breath. “No, we’re not going to rescue her.”

  Nocturna made a face. “Are you sure?”

  “If we somehow did manage to rescue her, Cruelthor would just keep hunting until he found her. For whatever reason, he really wants her with him. Besides, she’s only a little kid – she’d never be safe living like we do. She’s safer where she is, at least for now.”

  Nocturna accepted this. “You’re right. If we brought her to live with us, Cruelthor would probably consider her an enemy too.”

  Evant agreed. “That’d put her in even more danger.”

  Vale pulled his hood over his head. He smiled at Nocturna and told the group, “We’d better get out of here. Someone wake up Tat and let her take all the chocolate she can carry.”

  Dominion Newsfeed

  07/08/69 22:00

  Paris, Crow’s Region, Mainland-Euro

  – ALERT: Unauthorized Streaming Video Upload

  …Tracking coordinates…

  The dark room is silent for a moment as Beathabane appears to be thinking over th
e reporter’s question. Kaytrine glances at the camera nervously, no doubt hoping she hasn’t upset her important interviewee.

  “Sir,” she says for his attention. “I’m sorry if this is too personal, but a lot of people are wondering. What are you going to do about your sister? Why haven’t you attempted to rescue her?”

  Finally, Beathabane says, “It’s the greatest regret of my life that I couldn’t find my sister before Cruelthor found her. But everything I do is for her. I’ve said that I hope to set an example that will prompt others to join us in this fight. I hope to set that example for my sister also. I have to be her good example – I have to show her a better way to live than what my brother shows her. A better alternative.” He looks into the camera, and he grows more confident. “The most important thing I can do is save as many people as I can from the evils of my brother. I try to do my part, but we must all work together to fight for a better world. A world where people are free. A world where people aren’t condemned by the government to live a hell on Earth as factors. We rebels must stop fighting amongst ourselves. Those of us who’ve escaped the Dominion – and I pray my sister joins us someday – are not the enemy. We rebels must unite to bring down the Dominion. My brother must be stopped.”

  Off-camera, a male voice calls, “Sir! I see Dominion speeders approaching from the east!”

  Kaytrine reaches for her headset device like she’s about to jump up and run, but Beathabane motions for her to wait. He glances to the side and smiles at someone.

  “I once read an ancient story about a man in an iron mask who was imprisoned by an evil king. Legend has it that the man was the king’s twin, and the king hid him away so that he could never challenge the king.” Beathabane turns his shaved head for the camera to see the slashed Dominion tattoo. “My twin had a different approach, as you all know. But in my marked exile I’ve challenged his rule every way I can. You might not trust my face. You might not trust my ex-Dominion followers. But we will never rest until the Dominion’s evils are undone. Trust in that.”

  Kaytrine reaches to shake his hand. “Thank you, Beathabane. I’ve heard a lot about you, and you’re apparently as scholarly as they say. And inspiring. I hope you don’t mind if I try to find a more respectful title for you than ‘Beathabane,’ sir.”