They didn't hurry on their long walk back from the beach. They moved slowly as their rations reduced and their conversation swelled and died. They slept another night amongst the trees, round a campfire, watching the stars overhead.
They had found no sign of human life but, in the end, they thought it better that way. Better that they should emerge and rebuild their lives unhindered than become immediately subject to the ideas and governments of others, become immediately inferior, a freak show of these underground people.
Eventually, Nigs swore the valley swooping up to enclose them was the one where the door was situated and, sure enough, they found the gaping entrance set deep in the earth, an expectant mouth waiting to swallow them whole. They stood and watched it, none of them wanting to be the first to sacrifice what they had found.
"Into the lion's den?" Miriam suggested, eventually.
"Into the mouth of hell," Carmen muttered, but she was the first to step back over the threshold.
They closed the outside door behind them, locking it again. Jonathan pocketed the key. It took all six of them to open the internal door, pulling and scraping and throwing themselves at it until at last it ground inward, scattering them to the floor.
They were inside again, their brief respite over. Back underground, back in a warzone, back amongst their responsibilities and dangers and griefs. All the frantic hope they had nourished outside was cut off immediately.
There was a soldier waiting for them, a boy none of them knew. He cried out involuntarily when he saw them, his hands flying to his mouth, his eyes stark and staring.
"I know, we're alive," Jonathan smiled faintly. "Shocking, isn't it?"
The soldier recovered himself fast, throwing a salute in for good measure.
"You are to report downstairs immediately," he gabbled. "Commander Armstrong begs you to hurry."
"Commander Arm...Natalia," Jonathan breathed out, understanding. "What's going on? Has there been an attack?"
The soldier shook his head. "No, sir. Negotiations, sir."
There was something about the way he said the word that made it sound far more dangerous than any attack could ever be.
Natalia sat on her chair, straight-backed, glowering out into the room. Kaede sat beside her, her face blankly furious. Behind them amassed the ranks of the youth corps, all uniformed and divided into their groups, muttering amongst themselves. Opposite them, on the other side of the room, were crammed the soldiers from the sub-dwellings.
Natalia wondered if this was all of them or only a representation. If this was the full number of lives in Subterra now, there were far fewer than she had ever expected and, though they seemed terrifying in mass now, a fight would not be so impossible to win, if it came to it.
Emilia had the leading seat on their side of the room, with her husband on her right. She met Natalia's eyes across the empty space and there was something of regret in them, a friendly commiseration. Neither of them had wanted it to come to this.
Natalia glanced anxiously towards the door. She had sent a soldier up to the door, following careful instructions, in order to wait for Jonathan, should he return. She needed him now. She needed his help.
She looked back to Emilia, who was watching her carefully. Natalia nodded very slightly. Emilia stood up and the hall fell silent, all conversation dying away. Everyone was watching the young woman, as she turned to face the adults behind her.
"Soldiers," she said, respectfully. "We are here today to parley with the youth corps, with our sons and daughters, with our futures. They, as you will all know, currently hold all places crucial for our survival in their power. We must attempt to come to some agreement with them."
Emilia pivoted on one foot to face the youth corps, raising her eyebrows very slightly in Natalia's direction.
"Youths," she announced, "I am Soldier Emilia Willows. I am an ambassador from the adult population of Subterra. I have had the honour of talking to your commander. I hope you will be willing to come to a fair agreement."
Kaede stood up sharply. "At least accord us the same honour you would any other soldier, and do not address us as 'youths'. We have fought for more and achieved more in our lives than any of you ever have. We deserve that respect."
There was a murmur from the other side of the room but Emilia nodded understandingly.
"Of course, Soldier Nam. Forgive me."
Kaede sat down again, hands folded in her lap, no trace of any expression in her upright posture or still features. Natalia stood instead.
"Soldiers," she nodded to the adults across the room. "I am Commander Armstrong. In the absence of John Sandor, I am in control of Subterra. I trust you have all understood the information fed to you by Ambassador Willows?"
It was a careful dance. Every word, every address, had to be chosen with caution, lest someone take offence or find the loophole that led to your weakness.
"We have understood," someone shouted back, "that you have committed high treason!"
There was a chorus of angry mutterings in agreement.
"We do not deny it," Natalia inclined her head. "But the actions that have brought us to this point are not really what we're here to discuss. This isn't a trial. This is a political negotiation."
"Ridiculous!" a man roared, getting to his feet. "I refuse to exchange pleasantries with murderers!"
"Then you are permitted to leave," Natalia replied, coolly. "Nobody is obligated to be here."
"Enough!" Emilia threw up her hands. "There is no question of blame, only the question of how we are to proceed."
"Put them on trial," a woman insisted. "Punish them for their crimes and appoint a new Field-Marshal."
Emilia gave an exasperated sigh. "We can't just..."
"They're our children," someone objected. "We cannot destroy the future of Subterra due to the poor judgements of a few."
"Then punish just a few," the woman waved a hand dismissively. "The ringleaders. The rest have suffered from poor leadership and a lack of good examples. They have been given far too much free rein. We must bring them in, train the rebellious spirit out of them."
"Do you understand at all?" Natalia demanded. "You haven't won here! You're not in a position to punish us for anything!"
"But what about their claims?" someone else spoke over her. "If there is safety on the surface, we should investigate."
"It's not worth it," someone else argued back. "There's no need. We have all we require down here. Why should we take the risk?"
"Of course there's nothing on the surface!" a man blustered. "Do you think we wouldn't have been told if there was a world still up there?"
"But that's what we've been saying!" Natalia cried, but no one was listening.
"Leave it," Kaede laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "For now, there's really no point in trying. They don't care what we think at all. They can't understand that we have any power over them."
"Just because we're young," Natalia snarled. "Just because we're not like them."
"What about the claims of the upstairs?" someone was saying. "Shouldn't we investigate...?"
"You really believe those stories?" someone else cut her off. "There's no evidence to support it. Why would anyone be secreted away upstairs? There is no upstairs. Subterra is all on one level."
"No upstairs?" a voice roared and Natalia turned to see Kevin striding forward from the furious mass behind her. "No upstairs? Then where have I been living all my life?"
The man looked down his nose at Kevin. "I'm sorry? Who are you?"
"My name is Kevin," Kevin folded his arms. "I'm a servant from the upstairs."
Several people gasped.
"Then..."
"It's true..."
"There really are..."
"Of course it's not true! It's just a trick! It's just there to distract us from the important points! He's an impersonator!"
"Look at him," a woman agreed. "I thought the upstairs people were supposed to be weak and injured. He looks healthy to me."
"I'm not like the rest," Kevin explained. "I was born up there. I'm not ill..."
"Practically a confession!" the woman brushed him aside. "You see? They've already lied to us. There is no upstairs, there is no surface, there is nothing but Subterra. Anyone who says otherwise is losing their mind."
"Stop! Just stop!" Natalia leapt to her feet again. "Can you all shut up and just listen? Listen to us for just once in your sorry lives?"
But nobody paid any attention. They were too busy arguing, debating, going back and forth, laying out threats and punishments. They went round and round in circles, coming to no conclusions, shouting the same points again and again. Natalia cast a desperate look at Emilia, who shrugged helplessly in response.
The clamour was interrupted by a series of gunshots that echoed around the vast space, rebounding off the walls. The room fell to silence almost at once, nearly everyone on their feet, craning their necks to see who was attacking them, who had fired. Natalia's eyes landed on Puck as Quinten wheeled his chair gently forward. The gun still smoked slightly in his hand.
"You have no right," Puck said, in a voice soft and calm that somehow still carried to every listening ear, "to treat us this way. You have no right to overlook the authority of our commander. You have no right to assume you can judge us, punish us, ignore us as you see fit. We are, and always have been, prepared to fight you for this. You have not won. You were the ones who begged for a truce, not us."
Someone began to speak but Puck twirled the gun between his fingers like a threat.
"We are your children," he continued. "We are the monsters you have created. You have broken us, damaged us, destroyed us. Our faults are all yours. You put them there. You have no one but yourselves – in your complacency, in your callousness, in your willingness to live a blind and blinkered life – to blame for the situation you now find yourselves in.
"We have committed treason. We have rebelled against the authority of those who would oppress us and lie to us and tell us who we were and who would should be and who we should love. We have betrayed you and your command, and in doing so we have destroyed your hold over us.
"You have no right to order us now. You have no right to give commands, to expect things from us, to demand our submission, our obedience or our respect. We are owed your attention and your consideration. Finally, at last, after all these years, we are owed your ears to listen to us.
"You are not better than us because you have lived longer. You are not stronger than us because of it. We proved this when we executed the high command. You should have taken that as a warning. We do not bow before you because you are older, or because you wear a better uniform. All being our elders proves is that you have lived longer without once bothering to open your eyes, or think, or care. Would you have us honour you for that?
"So you will listen now. You will listen to Commander Armstrong, who is noble and strong and brave, who is better by far than most of you. You shall listen to all of us. Because you are not justified in doing anything else. We hold the power here, not you. If it comes to a fight, you are facing us, blooded soldiers with everything to win and nothing to lose, with the immortality of our conviction. And what are you, in the face of that?
"This is a warning, not a threat. No, it's not even a warning. It's a statement of fact. You will hear us out, you will treat us as equals, you will consider us real people too, not your puppets to play with or your inferiors to command or your prisoners to punish. We are not yours, and we never shall be again. Do you understand?"
In response to his words, there was a long silence, the kind of silence with layers and fossils, the kind that could last a thousand years. Puck sat calmly in the midst of it, hands folded on the gun in his lap, blind eyes staring away into the distance, the ghost of a smile on his face.
"Who is he?" someone demanded, at last.
Natalia swallowed down the lump in her throat. "He is Soldier Puck Arrigucci. He is one of my closest advisors."
At that, Puck turned to give her a radiant smile, which Natalia returned even though he'd never see it.
"We were told to be here unarmed," someone grumbled. "And yet here he is, able to threaten us? You break your word already."
"A minor consideration," Emilia waved it aside. "He makes a valid point."
"More than a valid point," Kaede muttered, too low for anyone but Natalia to hear her. "The only point."
"Nevertheless," someone complained, "this goes no way to proving their wild claims, or to addressing the fact that they are traitors. I, for one, do not even believe that this John Sandor we've heard so much about exists. He's just another story, another invention of their runaway imaginations!"
"Am I?" The door banged open. "How unfortunate. And there I was, thinking I was real."
There were gasps, hisses of intaken breath, curses slipping between clenched teeth. Jonathan stood in the doorway, the space behind him filling up with the other six. Natalia's heart leapt to see him and she couldn't control the grin that forced itself onto her face. His eyes sought her out and he gave her a private wink.
"How are the negotiations going?" he inquired, politely. "Everything satisfactory?"
The stunned silence was broken by cheers. The youth corps yelled their approval, applauded, whooped, in welcome of their returning commander, their heroes who had risen from the dead, who had overcome the impossible and arrived to solve everything at the very last minute.
Jonathan strolled across the room to Natalia, looking relaxed, as though he had spent all his life being trained to do this one thing. Natalia couldn't help herself. She stood up and flung her arms around him. When he hugged her back, she could smell the outside on him, things she'd never known, but he still felt like John.
"As you can see," he said, releasing her and turning back to the adults, "I am alive. I am real. I have been above ground and I have come back. There's a world out there, ladies and gentlemen. A world worth fighting for."
The outcry was immediate. Screams, angry bellows, torrents of insults, of accusations, pouring down from all angles. Jonathan withstood them all with a half-raised eyebrow and the expression of one who is quite prepared to wait all century to get their own way.
"If you have all quite finished," he said, as the noise died down, "I would like to propose that those who wish to verify my claim accompany me back up to the door and I will happily show them the outside world."
Natalia's heart thundered in her chest. She could feel the swell of excitement, and terror, from her soldiers. The adults across the room were glancing at one another, some in delight and some in horror.
"It's a trick!" someone shouted. "A dirty trick! To take us up there and kill us all!"
"It is not a trick," Jonathan responded, coldly. "Why should I fall to such depths? The outside world is real. It's not a fairy tale. It will not kill you. Why cower in the dark for the rest of time?"
"Treachery!" a familiar woman was on her feet again, whipping a gun out of her pocket. "This boy slaughtered the high command personally! It was all done on his orders! He should die for his crimes!"
"No!" Natalia leapt in front of him, shielding him. "You will not do such a thing! You will never do such a thing, and live."
The woman's lip curled. "You think I have any qualms about shooting you as well? You are every bit as bad. You've corrupted the whole lot of them, the both of you."
"Go ahead," Natalia held her gaze. "Shoot me down. Die for your pains."
The woman clicked the safety off, one corner of her mouth lifting slightly, the air of an avenging angel about her.
"Absolutely not!" a voice roared. "Absolutely not! That's my daughter down there! You will not shoot her!"
A man surged out of the crowd, a great, broad-shouldered figure with a mane of dark hair. He stormed across the hall and pushed Natalia behind him.
"S-soldier Armstrong?" the woman stammered. "Get out of the way!"
"Never," the man crossed his arms over his chest. "I am not going to stand aside and see you shoot down my daughter, shoot down the commander of Subterra, because you're scared of her! Put the gun away, Dolores, or feel my wrath."
Natalia's knees were trembling and Jonathan caught her shoulders gently to stop her falling.
"Your father?" he whispered, in her ear.
"I have no idea," Natalia replied, under her breath.
The potential executioner – Dolores – slowly lowered her gun, tucking it away. Soldier Armstrong gave her a knowing smile without the slightest trace of kindness in it.
"That's better," he said. "That's better. Now, why don't you just listen to the girl and her friends?"
He stepped aside, not crossing the room to his previous place but taking up station on the other side of Kaede with the manner of a bodyguard. He gave Natalia an encouraging smile. She gulped, glancing back across the room at the hostile faces and the expectant silence.
"As Commander of Subterra," she announced, and her voice rang a little shrill in the space, "I authorise a party of all interested persons to follow John up to the surface and see the world for themselves. After which, all will return back down to Subterra and negotiations will recommence between Ambassador Willows and myself."
Across the room, Emilia nodded. "I quite agree. It is the sensible course of action."
There was outrage, naturally, and noise, but it was evident that Natalia had won, for the time being. Jonathan released her shoulders gently and she staggered slightly, leaning over to clutch at him again.
"You look pale," he said, worriedly. "Are you alright?"
Natalia grinned. "Oh, I'm perfect. How's the world?"
"Pretty perfect too."
A hand fell on Natalia's shoulder. Jonathan immediately turned and walked away, falling into avid conversation with someone who just happened to be passing.
"Natalia."
Natalia turned around and swallowed. "Hello...soldier."
Soldier Armstrong looked down at her and she realised that she could see herself in his features: the strong nose, the dark eyes, the black hair.
"It has been a long time since we last met," he said, quietly. "You were only a babe in arms. I know I no longer have a right to call myself your father."
"Biologically..."
"I'm not talking biologically," he interrupted her. "But, Natalia, I am proud of you. It is an honour to have you for a daughter. You've been a fine commander, and a brave one. It is my pleasure, to have known you at all."
Natalia nodded once. "Thank you, soldier."
"Might I see you again?" he asked, and she could hear the anxiety in his tone.
"Perhaps," she allowed. "Who can say how this will pan out?"
He nodded, accepting her answer. She had been a baby when they'd parted ways and now she was a young woman, a military leader, a person in her own right. There was no bond between them she was obliged to honour. There was no reason for her to let him back again and Natalia wasn't so sure that she wanted to.
"Go well," he rested his hand on her shoulder. "Soldier."
He turned and walked away, back to the seething mass of adults who could not understand how the show had been stolen from them so completely. Natalia watched him go and wondered if it would have been easier growing up with parents, or if it would have been so much harder.
It took Miriam some time to find Puck in the scrum of people, all of whom wanted to congratulate him, to applaud him, to make some comment about his daring. Miriam let them, knowing that Puck was revelling in every second of his glory.
"Is Miriam here?" he asked, eventually.
"I'm here," she pushed her way through to him, laying a hand on the top of his head. "I'm here."
He aimed a smile in her general direction. "You didn't die."
"I'm pleased as well."
Puck laughed. "Not as pleased as I am."
Miriam's stomach twisted unexpectedly. "It was an eloquent speech."
"You didn't even hear it," he accused.
"Actually, I did. Jonathan had us wait outside the door once you'd started talking. He was waiting for the perfect moment."
"Ah," Puck grinned. "Excellent showmanship."
"Will you be coming outside with us?" Miriam asked.
Puck found her hand and squeezed it gently. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Carmen found Kevin in the crowd, talking to Nigs with a kind of urgency. The ferocious look on his face had faded now, replaced by something hollow and drawn. Carmen could almost see the blood draining from Nigs's face, the strength leaving his limbs.
"Hey," she rushed to their side. "What is it?"
Kevin looked up at her. "Pippa."
Carmen's stomach swooped and all the joy and all the glory left the day.
"Pippa?" she managed. "She's...she's..."
"She's dead," Kevin said, softly.
This time it was Carmen's turn to let him cry on her shoulder, to huddle there by the wall with her knees under her chin and his tears soaking in her shirt. Nigs sat down on her other side and, without even thinking, she reached across to hold his hand. The two brothers cried for their sister, and Carmen cried for them.