Phoenix Rising (Book Two of The Icarus Trilogy) (31 page)

“I know right from wrong, and I promise there’s a little conscience hidden underneath this red hair of mine.  And I know I will die fighting for your cause, because all I needed to know was that it existed.  I can’t think of anything more noble, Templeton,” Norris said before adopting a knowing smile on his face.  “And being noble might be a nice change of pace.”

Templeton looked at the sniper for a long time.  He didn’t know what to think of the killer sitting across from him.  A few words wouldn’t change a thing, but Templeton knew that the Englishman meant them.  The way that the man’s eyes looked back at him, slightly glazed-over, and the way that smile seemed so completely uncharacteristic was jarring.  Templeton thought that for the first time Norris was showing his true colors.

“Well, say something, you bloody wanker!  Put my heart out there for you.  I just want to know if you trust it,” Norris said with a chuckle.  Templeton looked the man over and sighed.

“Who are you, Norris?  Are you just a jester, or have you been a soldier all this time?” the resistance agent asked.  He didn’t know what to make of the man, anymore.  The marksman just laughed and held up his hands in mock uncertainty.

“Why can’t I be both?”

-

Templeton was uneasy as the transport landed back at the Crows’ barracks.  They had won the match against the Jackals, but only just.  Jenkins, Carver and Goldstein had died along with a handful of the other Crows.  There was no light conversation on the way back from the battlefield; even Norris was silent during the trip.  No one wanted to speak; no one wanted to utter a single word.

They couldn’t muster the nerve while Feldman sat cradling the broken Roberts in his arms.

When the transport rocked to a stop on the ground outside of the barracks, none of the soldiers made a move towards the opening loading bay.  Templeton glanced from side to side at all the other Crows.  Cortes sat on the bench looking at the floor, Warner held his head in his hands; most were in similar positions.  The resistance agent felt like they were at a funeral and only after the image struck him did he realize how appropriate it was.  As soon as Feldman brought the broken body of the soldier to the Commission’s representative, the man would send Roberts to be euthanized at the clinic.  The revolutionary wondered why Feldman didn’t just finish the job in the field.

No sooner had the revolutionary finished his thought than the giant rose from the bench and walked to the loading bay.  He held the small soldier’s body like it was a rag doll; the titan holding the child.  The other Crows could only watch as the giant approached O’Brian, the official in charge of their inspection.

O’Brian was nothing more than a bureaucrat.  His thick glasses with thin frames were situated over a rounded and aging face, his hairline had all but retreated to the back of his head and he looked like he had not seen the inside of a gym for decades.  The dusty, brown hair did nothing to compliment the man and his suit was drab and seemed to take away a person’s spirit from just looking at it. 

O’Brian looked up from his display and a look of nervousness contorted his features.  He turned from side to side in order to look at his EOSF bodyguards, but was still somewhat uneasy by the giant’s approach.  He knew that Feldman would be more than able to rip them all apart if he chose to.  The bureaucrat gathered his courage, adjusted his suit and cleared his throat.

“What’s all this Gregory?  What happened to Christopher, here?” he asked, ignorant of anything Hawkins might have done to the boy.  It wasn’t his job to know, so he took it as a mark of honor to keep himself ignorant.  Feldman looked down at the small man and breathed out with great control.

“Your Commission, O’Brian.  Look at what they’ve done to this child,” Feldman said, careful not to get carried away, but he was not able to completely limit the anger in his voice.  The bureaucrat furrowed his brow and stammered in response.

“Wh-whatever are you talking about, Gregory?  We didn’t break his legs.”

“No, O’Brian.  He did that himself, unable to stop the pain spasm ripping through him.  I don’t know who, he doesn’t even know who, but someone has caused this boy the kind of pain that brings insanity.  That brings a man to snap his own legs,
his own legs
,” Feldman said, unable to restrain his emotion any longer, “without realizing it.  This is the Commission’s work, O’Brian.  There’s no possible way for it not to be.  This, right here,” he said, raising Roberts’ frail body for emphasis, “is evil.”

“Gregory,” O’Brian began, unable to respond to the situation.  These were quite the accusations, and unfortunately the official’s talent for ignorance seemed to be working against him.  “I’m sure that the Commission would not all-“

“They wouldn’t allow it, O’Brian?” Feldman interrupted, confusing the small official in front of him.  The giant had never said this many words in the entire time the official had been inspecting him.  “Why not?  The atrocities of this world are rampant.  Men kill each other for sport; humanity enjoys their pain.  I can’t see a way for this to be out of the ordinary, O’Brian.  This is just another in a laundry list of inhumane and
evil
acts.  I want you to know,
he
wanted you to know, that this will not stand.”  Feldman stood triumphant over the worm of a man and the official could only begin to make excuses.

“Listen here, Gregory.  I didn’t do this.  I’m not the monster that you’re implying,” he said, but Feldman merely rose to his full height and breathed in sharply.  The bureaucrat could not even think of finishing his argument.

“Who’s the monster, O’Brian?  The one who commits atrocities or the one who surrounds himself with them?  To my mind,” Feldman said before bending over and lowering his helmet to eye level with the small man, “they’re both monsters.”  O’Brian couldn’t help but feel frightened by the man and did what he could to regain control of the situation.  He looked the giant over and then his face contorted into an expression of indignation.

“Look, Gregory, I don’t know anything about that, but I do see that you’re missing a plasma sword.”  The giant did not move, but growled at the remark.

“I left it there.”  O’Brian scoffed at the response and then a look of smug righteousness passed over his face.

“Well, you’re going to have to pay for that.  I hope you know that,” he said, already trying to repress the memory of Feldman’s accusations.  The giant merely straightened his back and sighed.

“I know, O’Brian, you can bill me for it.  I should have known you would not understand,” he said with a tone that seemed like a mixture of defeat and resolve.  O’Brian saw it only as a victory.

“Hmph, well I don’t much care for your attitude.  Now Roberts there looks like he’s structurally damaged, so he’ll have to be euthanized.  Give him over to Laurence and Albert, here,” O’Brian said, finally comfortable with the situation.

“Death will be a mercy, O’Brian.  And I will take him myself,” the giant said, holding the child soldier closer to his chest.  The EOSF guards made no move to take him.  O’Brian’s features twisted into anger at the remark.

“No, you won’t, Gregory.  You have to get back into the locker room and deposit your armor.  You have no business with this soldier.  Laurence, take the boy,” the official said, not even bothering to look at the situation unfolding in front of him.  The older guard stepped towards the giant slowly as Feldman stood resolutely with Christopher limp in his arms.  Templeton only wondered if Feldman would just kill the guard or make an example of him, but as Laurence reached the giant he whispered to Feldman, soft enough to escape O’Brian’s attention.

“It’s ok, Feldman.  We’ll take care of him.  We’re with Templeton over there,” he said, hoping against hope that it would make a difference to the giant.  Laurence had been fighting for years now and had abandoned his sense of fear along the way, but the titan standing over him caused a trickle of sweat to fall from his brow.  It was a tense moment as Laurence extended his arms, waiting for Feldman to relieve his burden.  After an eternity of a moment Feldman lowered his arms and placed the boy in Laurence’s care.  Everyone in the audience seemed to breathe out at once.

“So am I,
Laurence
,” the giant said, coolly and without a trace of emotion.  The EOSF guard nodded and backed away, still nervous that the titan would make a move to kill him.  When he had escaped to a safe distance, Laurence finally turned his back and set off towards the clinic.  The old soldier felt a sense of righteousness that had been absent for some time now.  This was yet another reminder why he was doing all of this.

Feldman looked down at the bureaucrat still standing with his display, tsking and tutting his way through a checklist.

“That sword will cost you a pretty penny, Gregory, I hope you know that.”  Feldman looked at the man and shook his head before walking forward, past the gaping bureaucrat.  “Look, here, Gregory!  I want you to understand!”  The giant merely turned his head and resisted the urge to act on his emotions.

“I already understand, O’Brian.  You don’t.”

-

Feldman was sitting on his bed when he heard a knock at the door.  He was expecting it, so he merely lifted himself off the bed, which gave an audible creak, and then trudged over to the doorway.  He opened the door and turned around without inspecting his visitor.  The giant just walked back over to his bed and sat down, then turned his head to look up at the thin, black man.

“You don’t need to convince me anymore, Templeton.  After today my services are yours.”  The resistance agent walked over to the giant’s desk and set his weight onto the piece of furniture.  He sighed and crossed his arms.

“I didn’t want it to be like that, Greg.  Really.  I didn’t know Roberts had it that bad,” Templeton said, unable to comprehend the kind of torture the boy soldier went through every day.  He imagined quite a few scenarios for Hawkins and wondered which one would be appropriate.

“I didn’t either, revolutionary.  I wish I had known sooner,” the giant said, propping up his head on his right hand.  The two were quiet for a time, but soon enough Templeton broke the silence.

“I’m glad you’re finally seeing reason.  Now that you know what’s at stake,” he started, but Feldman didn’t let the man finish.

“This is not reason, Templeton.  This is suicide.  Nothing has changed,” the giant said, gazing out underneath droopy eyelids.  Templeton was shocked by the statement.

“But why would you fight, then?  If nothing has changed….”

“It’s not about our chances.  It’s not about reason or logic.  Today I saw something that I cannot abide.  When you hold a broken man like a discarded plaything, it’s difficult to justify
anything
leading up to it.  Men should not be broken; any laws or groups that permit it are beyond toleration.”  Templeton looked at his feet and sighed.  It seemed like Feldman could not have a light conversation.

“So you think you’ll die?” he asked as he looked back up at the giant.  The titan turned his head and looked at the resistance agent.

“Yes.  I will.  And in all probability we are all going to face the reaper.  That’s what reason dictates,” the giant said, his words almost catching in his throat.  Templeton tried to absorb the man’s way of thinking and shook his head.

“Then why would you fight?  Why did you change your mind?”  Feldman merely looked at the wall in front of him and seemed to stare off into space.

Douglas felt sick to his stomach and could not help but think about what was going to happen to him tomorrow.  He had tried to prepare himself, he had tried to justify his actions and remember that what he was doing was for a cause.  His sacrifice was possibly going to save the human race.

It didn’t make his stomach feel better.

The announcer had never achieved anything and had never been the kind of man to save the world.  This whole destiny had been thrust upon him by a nervous television anchor that had needed to confess.  Douglas had never wanted Eric to break down and tell him what he and his EFI friends were planning.  The announcer had been depressed and hated the world, but he hadn’t ever thought he was going to die for it.

But that was exactly what was about to happen to Douglas Finnegan.  The overweight man was sitting in the break room of
War World
and couldn’t possibly understand why he was really doing it.  He had gotten caught up in the moment and Jamie had sounded so certain in his beliefs, but now Douglas was having doubts.  All he wanted was to erase the last few weeks.  The EFI could have staged their broadcast and nothing would have happened to him.  It would have been better for all of them.

Douglas sighed as he realized that wishing for the past wasn’t going to make a difference.  He absent-mindedly pushed the black stirrer around in his coffee cup.  The night’s broadcast was long over and he had no more announcements in place.  The support staff was buzzing about the stage, doing what they had to so that they could close up shop and go home.  Douglas was looking at the busy people but paying no attention to what they were doing.  His thoughts were far, far away from the current situation.

“Hey, Sean, how’s it going?”  Douglas looked away from the middle distance to see Franklyn Stone smiling down at him.  Douglas had to think in order to remember what the television anchor had actually said, but after half a second came up blank.  He decided to pretend he had heard and just shrugged; it wasn’t exactly uncommon for the announcer.  Franklyn just laughed and shook his head before heading over to the coffee machine.

“You know, Douglas, you used to hate that name.  Have you finally gotten round to accepting it?” Franklyn asked with his back turned, but Douglas could feel the smile coming from the disingenuous man.  With almost no provocation, Douglas was suddenly angry at the man standing just a meter away.  The announcer had always disliked Franklyn because of his grand-standing antics, but now the resentment seemed to be boiling to the surface.