With everything appearing well in hand, I retrieve Gus' portable radio from the airship and head into the camp in search of a bed. My feet drag in the soft sand, kicking up clouds of dust in my wake. I smoothly maneuver my way through the tightly-packed crowd, my shoulders angling instinctively as I make my way into the hastily-assembled shanty town.
Someone points me in the direction of the spare beds and I push my way into a sloping, sand-coloured tent, collapsing into the first available cot without bothering to remove my Enforcer's uniform. Darkness takes me almost instantly and I resign myself to the nightmares that will surely follow.
When I awake, the light has shifted from a tarnished orange to a bright white. It must be after noon. I sit up, blinking in confusion.
I didn't dream. After the acts I committed down at the Irrigator, I thought for certain that I was condemned to a lifetime of uneasy sleeps, but there was nothing. No fear, no isolation, just a deep, restful unconsciousness. How is that possible?
I shake my head and swing my legs out of the low cot, rubbing my eyes as I slip through the flaps of the tent and re-enter the rabble.
The infirmary is easy enough to find. I follow the flow of traffic, listening with a kind of detached indifference to the snippets of conversation around me. Everywhere, people are talking about the fifty prisoners returned from Babel. There are stories of having found long-lost friends and relatives, and the newfound prospect of deceased loved ones being alive and only days away from rescue.
As I allow myself to become absorbed by the crowd, I come to realize that the motivation behind this upcoming battle is not so different from the injustice that drove our people to fight against the King. Our pickaxes have been replaced by catapults and our ragtag group of Miners have been joined by battle-hardened Wasters, but the sentiment is still the same. What drives us has always been the same.
Hope. We fight because we have hope. Hope that our dead can be be brought back to life. Hope that what was lost can be found.
The people around me aren't afraid. They're ready.
The infirmary looks to have been expanded hurriedly, with several sand-coloured canopies in various states of repair sheltering the crammed-together beds. Healers, both Waster and Miner, rush back and forth, smoothly dodging the visitors and patients. Several more volunteers speak with the scores of friends and relatives hanging by the roped-off entrance. Despite the haphazardness of the scene, the mood is spirited. Everywhere, people are laughing and talking animatedly, and I can see contented smiles on even the most emaciated patients.
Jaron and Luca are hunched over a bed at the far end of the room. Noah is sitting up between them, looking tired but happy. The telltale bunching has disappeared from Luca's shoulders and Jaron's sharp eyes never leave Noah's face. I catch myself staring for longer than necessary at the reunited family, feeling a strange mix of happiness and jealousy.
"Kay!" Someone calls my name and I tear my eyes away, looking for its source.
Jules waves her hand, gesturing me over to the entrance of the infirmary. I shoulder my way up to the front of the line of visitors and duck under the rope. At once, Will's sister appears in front of me and pulls me into a hug, drawing back to examine my head for any injuries.
I swat her away. "I'm fine. I would have come sooner if I needed medical attention."
"No, you wouldn't have." She says and draws me over to a relatively-quiet corner of the tent. "Kay, where's Will? No one can give me a straight answer."
"He's fine." I tell her and she visibly relaxes. "He isn't hurt and he isn't a prisoner. He stayed behind voluntarily."
Her dark eyebrows rise nearly to her hairline. "He...what?"
"I know." My jaw clenches. "I couldn't convince him otherwise. His mind was made up."
"But, why?" Her grey eyes search mine. "To what end?"
"He thinks he can be of more help over there than in here." I try unsuccessfully to keep the bitterness from my voice. "In his mind, leaving would be akin to a commander abandoning his troops."
Jules sighs. "That's Will, isn't it? Always a soldier, first."
"His heart is in the right place." I'm not sure which of us I am trying to convince. "And it's only for a couple days. Everyone here looks ready to go, all we need to do is plan the attack."
"Isn't that usually Will's domain?" She asks, doubtfully.
"Still is. We are going to be communicating with him through radio."
She blinks. "You have a radio? We're using radios, now?"
"Yes."
She suddenly throws her hands up in exasperation. "Well, Kay. I asked you a simple question about my brother's whereabouts, and it turns out that not only is he voluntarily residing in the enemy's base, but that the two of you have devised a way to use stolen technology and continue scheming."
I blink, taken aback. "I guess it's a bit strange when you put it like that."
"You're both mad." She shakes her head. "I know that I'm supposed to be pleased that you're steps ahead of the rest of us."
I bite my lip, unsure of what to say. I feel a sudden pang at missing Will.
Jules continues. "But you know, sometimes I can't decide if the two of you bring out the best in each other, or the worst." She meets my gaze head-on, studying me.
"We're trying to do what's right." I tell her, bristling. "We're trying to get our people back and out from under Babel's control."
"And the cost is always the same, isn't it? Either you, my brother, or both of you, deliberately put yourselves in danger." She keeps her voice low, but a high colour has risen to her cheeks. "It was bad enough when it was just you taking these madcap risks, Kay, but now you've influenced my brother to do the same."
My mouth drops open but no words come out.
Jules draws a shaky breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she composes herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."
"It's...it's all right." I stammer. Jules and I have never quarrelled before, and I can't ignore the punch to my gut that tells me that Will's little sister has spoken the truth.
"It isn't your fault that he stayed behind. I'm just worried about him."
"I know."
"Good." She fiddles with her apron. "I should get back to my patients."
I nod. "Can I do anything to help?"
She shakes her head, a little too quickly. "No. You should go find Queen Megra, though. She's been asking for you."
"All right."
Jules squeezes my hand once, disappearing back into the swell of healers and patients. I duck under the rope, wandering aimlessly back in the direction I came from, Jules' words rattling around in my head.
I am so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't hear the heavy footsteps pounding after me in pursuit until Jaron appears at my side. The Waster chief places a hand on my shoulder to stop me walking and I throw my elbow up instinctively. He dodges it, staring at me with raised eyebrows.
"Sorry." I tell him, taking a step back. "Old habits."
He waves away my apology. "Are you going to see Megra?"
"Yes." I peer down the crowded laneway. "At least, I think so."
"I'll join you." He falls into step next to me without waiting for a reply. I am grateful for the company, and not only because I don't really know where I am going. Jaron's hulking, steady presence is a welcome respite from the worries continually swirling around in my head.
"How is Noah?" I ask, as we walk.
A grin breaks out over his bearded face. "He is well. He is alive and in good spirits."
"I'm glad to hear it." I say, meaning it.
"My brothers and I owe you a great debt, Runner." He looks at me, blue eyes flashing.
I feel a strange jolt of annoyance when he doesn't call me by my proper name.
"I don't want to owe debts anymore." I tell him, scuffing my feet on the sandy ground. "As far as I'm concerned, we are friends now, and friends help one another."
He snorts and his big hand comes down on my head, ruffling my hair. I shove him off, unable to keep the smile from pulling at my cheeks. We walk the rest of the way in companionable silence, with Jaron leading us towards a completely nondescript tent, nodding to the guards standing outside and pushing through the flaps.
Meg and a handful of other people are standing around a table, poring over a roughly-drawn map. They look up when we enter, half a dozen grave expressions at once turning to ones of relief. We cross to the table and I pull the map towards me, wrinkling my brow as I read it.
"I tried to draw what I could gather from our escape route." Marc explains, materializing next to me and gesturing to the bottom corner of the parchment. "But I couldn't really gauge the direction. The Irrigator was North of the dome?"
"North East." Someone hands me a piece of graphite and I sketch a hasty outline on the map, indicating the location of the drill. "This is the bit of wall we will have to break through in order to get at the back stairwell." I continue drawing, rotating the map and tilting my head. "There are five laboratory levels above the Irrigation levels. We will have to block those doors off in case anyone tries to come through."
I study my work, nodding my satisfaction before moving to the opposite end of the parchment. There is a general shuffling as Meg and the others give me space, but I barely notice, drawing furiously.
"I believe that the Madam resides primarily in the tallest building at the exact centre of the city." I say. "There is an open square surrounding it. All citizens are required to gather there for announcements every night at eight o'clock. Curfew follows shortly afterwards, usually an hour to two later. At that point, everyone is ordered off of the streets. Attacking after curfew will be our safest option, and is less likely to result in harming civilians."
No one says anything as I continue to scribble, rotating myself over the map, biting down on my tongue in concentration.
"There's a network of scaffolding stretching all the way up to the roof." I explain, indicating the points where the staircases are laid against the wall. "They call it the grid. We can use it to our advantage if we attack from above."
I straighten, chewing on my bottom lip as I consider. My eyes criss-cross the map, looking for anything I may have missed.
"Right, last thing." I pull the paper back towards me. "Canals. There is a constant stream of water being fed to the areas in between the streets and around the Madam's tower. Will or one of our other insiders can overload the pump and cause a flood."
I make an assertive 'X' on the underground room I have marked as L2, the room where Gus showed Will and I how to control the Irrigation system.
Finally satisfied, I spin the paper back around so that it's facing Meg and Jaron. "Does this help?"
No one says anything. I look about in confusion, glancing back down at the map, thinking that I may have drawn something wrong. It all looks accurate to me.
Finally, Meg breaks the silence. "Yes, I would say this is more than sufficient." She looks at me strangely, shaking her head in bewilderment. "How long were you in there?"
"Four days?" My cheeks burn under the weight of a half-dozen pairs of eyes staring openly at me. "I wasn't alone. Will's been lurking around Babel for more than a week, and we have a friend on the inside. It's thanks to him that we've been privy to details of the dome's innerworkings."
Meg's eyebrows shoot up. "You have someone from Babel helping you?"
"Helping us." I correct. "Yes. His name is Gus; he's an Enforcer and a mechanic. He's the one who blew out the radio towers so that we could get by them without being heard, and he's given us this portable radio, so that we can stay in contact with him and Will. We're to tune it to channel eight at midnight tonight."
I detach the radio from the back of my belt and place it on the table. Jaron scoops it up, holding it carefully in his large hands as though he could shatter it at any moment.
"Extraordinary." He murmurs, handing the radio over to Meg before turning back to me. "Their machines are more advanced than ours. What weaponry do they have?"
Images of the mech-Enforcers flash through my head and I bite down hard on my lip. "It's difficult to say. What's certain is that we shouldn't underestimate them. As much as I've learned about Babel, what scares me are the things that I don't know."
Jaron nods gravely. "Then we will have to prepare ourselves for anything."
"When is the soonest we can attack?" I look back and forth from Jaron to Meg. "Babel will have noticed their missing airship by now, we shouldn't delay."
"We don't intend to." Meg assures me. "Let's start working on a plan right now and run it by Will this evening. If we can iron out all the details by then, I see no reason why we can't launch an attack tomorrow night."
I could have kissed her. Instead, I smile grimly and lean back over the map. "Then we'd best come up with something good."
The next several hours pass as a blur. I am dimly aware of someone bringing us a meal or two, of people coming and going intermittently, but Meg, Jaron and I remain poised over the table. We draw out countless scenarios, going over every aspect in excruciating detail. We call various Wasters and Miners into Meg's tent, consulting with them and asking questions. At some point Luca shows up, interjecting with his own take on the situation. My head aches, the shadows grow long, but gradually and with surprising sureness, a viable strategy begins to take shape.
I stare down at the pile of parchments and rubbish littering the table. My vision swims and I rub my eyes forcefully, exhaling an exhausted sigh.
"Right." Meg says tiredly. "Are we all in agreement, then?"
No one says anything. I pull my hands away from my face and catch Luca looking at me. He glances away quickly, once again becoming engrossed in the groupings of sticks and rocks laid on top of the map, crude representations of our armies.
"It is a good plan." Jaron says, definitively. "We will see what your commander thinks of it."
"There is still some time left before we are due to radio him." Meg checks the clock and slumps elegantly into a chair. "I vote we take a break and meet back here just prior to midnight."
"Seconded." I straighten, rubbing my lower back. "I'm going to get some air."
"I will visit with Noah." Jaron claps his youngest brother on the shoulder and steers Luca from the tent. I follow the men outside, taking a deep lungful of the fresh night air.
The crowds have thinned but there is still a good deal of chatter. I can hear the crackling of campfires and the air hangs heavy with the scent of cooking meals. I trail Luca and Jaron to where the tents spread out around an open square. Most everyone seems to have gathered here, crouching around one of several fires, eating, drinking and talking.
I hang back, the prospect of a drink suddenly incredibly appealing.
"I'll catch up with you later." I tell the brothers, waving them on.
"Do you wish to meet Noah?" Jaron asks. "He has been eager to extend his thanks, you have made an impression on him."
I shake my head, taking a step into the square. "Maybe some other time." The last thing I want is gratitude. Tonight, I don't wish to be the Runner.
"I am going to stay as well." Luca says, to Jaron. "I'll visit Noah in the morning."
The Waster chief shrugs, shooting Luca a look I can't read. "Very well." He strides off, shaking his head before disappearing down the flickering pathway.
"Drink?" I incline my head and Luca nods.
We pick our way around the huddled groups, eventually locating a barrel of ale and some mugs.
"Wasters and Miners flock from miles around, armed to the teeth and ready to do battle. Still, they all remember to bring the brew." I remark, filling a cupful and handing it to Luca.
"It is one thing we all have in common." He replies.
We knock our mugs together and head off to sit by one of the larger bonfires, sinking down onto the soft sand. I lean over my knees, warming my hands near the flames and releasing a sigh of contentment.
"Better?" Luca asks.
I nod. "Better."
We lapse into silence, listening to the sounds of crackling wood and the hum of dozens of conversations. A restless energy sparks the air, a steady stirring of anticipation and readiness. On the brink of death comes the thrill of life, the manic need to appreciate and grasp onto everything around us.
I watch the couple sitting across the fire, noting the way they lean close to one another as they whisper secrets back and forth. A rueful grin pulls at my face. We are all acutely aware that this could be the last night of revelry, and I'd wager that few people will be sleeping alone, tonight.
Luca stirs restlessly, stretching out his arms and back. Someone throws another log on the fire and the flames shoot higher, directing my gaze up to the star-filled sky.
"Kay?"
I am caught by surprise, so unused to Luca calling me by my name. I have to blink once before remembering to turn and look at him. "Yes?"
"I know what happened, down at the Irrigator. Noah told me that you killed four people." He says. His tone is matter-of-fact but his gaze is earnest.
I feel my defenses prickle as I glare at him. He sits patiently, waiting.
"So," I finally say. "What of it?"
"I just thought...I wanted to tell you that I know it is not easy." He stumbles on his words.
Anger and confusion swirl through me, along with unwelcome memories of Babel. I keep my mouth clenched shut, not trusting myself to speak.
Luca seizes his opportunity and rushes on, avoiding my eyes and staring into the flames. "It hurts to kill someone, especially when it is for the first time. It is one thing to hunt an animal, but when you take a person's life..." He shakes his head and I think I see a slight tremor run across his wiry shoulders. "To justify it is to doubt yourself. And you can't. Not if you want to carry on afterwards."
I suddenly feel cold, despite the heat at my front. I scoot closer to the fire, picking up my mug and taking a long gulp. Luca remains silent, sipping his own drink while I gather my thoughts.
"Was that how it was for you?" I hear myself ask, eventually.
He nods. "That is why Wasters pay tribute to our kills. You have seen my back?"
I think of the elaborate, swirling blue-black design covering his back and shoulders. "Yes."
"That began with my first kill." He rubs absently at his arm, as though it itches him suddenly.
I feel my brow furrow, recalling the massive tattoo covering the entirety of Luca's torso. A design of that magnitude would not be for killing a single person.
"Luca." I say, slowly. "How many people have you killed?"
"Three hundred and seventy-two."
My eyes dart to from his back and up to his face. He is watching me intently.
"Why?" I ask.
"Many reasons, but it all came back to protecting my family, protecting my tribe or saving myself."
"All at once?"
"No. Over many years." He blows out a breath of air between his teeth. "Many, many years."
I furrow my brow, thinking. After a long moment, I lift my mug and drain what's left of it. "I knew that there was more to you than just being the chief's brother."
His cheek twitches, a look of relief crossing his sharp features. "Do you not think that I am a bad person?"
"No." I say, truthfully, staring back at the flames. "It isn't my place to judge anyone's choices."
I know that, now. How Lara ended up on the streets, why Rowan sacrificed her tribe to save Noah, why Will stayed behind. All were choices made for reasons that I may not necessarily agree with, but that I could not dane to understand. Just as I would never hope that anyone could comprehend why I saw Harmen's face in that hole. The pain is mine, and mine alone.
"Does it get any easier?" I ask, after a spell. Turning to look back at Luca.
I can tell he has heard me. His dark brow is furrowed as he gives my question serious thought.
"In a way." He says, eventually. "There is less hesitation. Less fear. You are more certain of what needs to be done."
"So, it becomes easier to kill." I point out. "Does it ever become easier to get over?"
"No." He doesn't hesitate. "No, that is never easy."
I nod, leaning back on my elbows and looking up at the night sky. Sparks from the fire spring into the air, swirling in the breeze and disappearing into the star-filled canopy above us. The sand shifts next to me when Luca lays down, folding his arms behind his head.
I am still uncertain as to whether those mech-Enforcers were human when I struck them down, but undoubtedly they were alive at some point. Regardless of what or who they were, I feel as though I will always carry some burden of regret for what I did to them. There was a loss of self-control, but more terrifyingly, there was a loss of reality. I think of Luca's words, about how I cannot doubt myself and hope to carry on. I have to make peace with what I did, and steel myself for more death ahead.
To hell with it. If Luca can function after killing three hundred and seventy-two people, then I should be able to handle the odd stress-induced hallucination.
"Are you going to tell me your story?" I ask.
There is the soft sound of him exhaling. "Are you going to tell me yours?"
I grin, my eyes tracing the familiar patterns in the night sky. "Let me ask you something, Luca. If you knew this was your last night, would you want to spend it talking of sad things, or would you get another drink?"
"I will take the drink."
"Good man." I sit up, scooping up both of our mugs and moving to refill them.
We sit and talk of nothing. The fires continue to feed stars into the sky while the conversations of our comrades flow around is. I huddle close to the flames, laughing at a group of drunken Wasters performing a riotous dance. Frothy ale sloshes over the rims of their mugs as they sing loudly and off-key. We swap stories and jokes, carrying on until someone requests a story of the Runner. I laugh it off, feeling myself colour as I protest. The chant is picked up until someone presses another full mug into my hand and Luca nudges me playfully, his eyes bright.
I relent, and recount the story of my escape from the Palace library. The Wasters and Miners crowd in around us, cheering riotously at the appropriate places, gasping when I describe dropping from the balconies and laughing uproariously at my dash through the chapel. I am so caught up in telling the story that I fail to notice one of Meg's attendants trying to get my attention until he places a hand tentatively on my arm.
There is a chorus of boos and someone throws their empty mug. I let Luca help me to my feet and together we bid our goodnights, trailing the annoyed attendant back to the Queen's tent.
Inside, we find Meg perched in her chair next to the table, speaking in low tones with Jaron. They look up when we enter and Meg reaches forward to grab the portable radio off the table, handing it to me.
I check the clock. Midnight exactly. I flip the switch on the back and turn the dial the way Gus taught me, cringing at the screeching sound of static. I extend the antenna and tune the radio to channel eight, holding down the button on the side and bringing the speaker to my lips.
"Hello?" I release the button, sitting back and staring down at the piece of tech.
No one says anything. The radio continues to hum piteously, oblivious to our tension. I exchange a look with Meg. She offers me a smile but I can sense the strain behind it. Another minute passes. A hollow sense of dread begins to creep its way around my heart. My three companions remain stock-still and silent, waiting. No one wants to be the first to say it, but I know that we are all thinking the same thing.
Will isn't there.
I double-check the settings on the radio and try again. "Hello? Can anybody hear me?"
Silence.
I knew that I shouldn't have left him. I should have knocked him out and dragged him aboard the airship with me. I should have put up a bigger fight. Jules was right to be angry, all I'm good for is placing Will in danger.
"...Kay? Are you there?"
The radio clenched in my hand suddenly sparks to life. I gasp as Meg and the Waster brothers sit upright, leaning in towards me.
I fumble for the button on the radio. "Will?"
"...hey, Red. Do you miss me, yet?"
Relief ebbs through me. I slump forward and Meg grasps my free hand, squeezing tightly.
"I've barely noticed you were gone." I tell him. "We've been busy."
"...got a plan?"
"Yes. First thing, though, are you all right? Are Gus and Lara all right?"
"...we're all fine. Laying low until you get here. They've noticed the airship missing and the grid is crawling with security. It isn't safe for me to be up there anymore, so I've been bunking with Gus. Lara's here, too."
"Good." Lara was the only one who showed her face during our escape, she's probably in more danger than either Will or Gus. "Try to stay hidden until tomorrow night, we're coming to get you."
"...roger, that."
Meg releases an indelicate snort of laughter while Jaron and Luca exchange confused looks. I roll my eyes and place my finger back on the button.
"All right, listen up. Here's the plan."
Will calls the strategy we eventually settle on a 'two-pronged attack'. I call it 'an elaborate distraction'.
Gus will need to knock out the radio towers again, to disguise the approach of our airships and catapults.
The airships will arrive first, dropping our soldiers through the hatch at the top of the dome. From there we will disperse, clambering down the grid and converging on the Madam's tower. All of Babel's Enforcers and, more than likely, a good helping of mech-Enforcers will be called into the center of the city and away from the fringes.
Once the battle has converged in and around the main square, Will will overload the canals and start the streets flooding. By now, the catapults will have arrived to break through the wall of the dome nearest the back stairwell. Our ground units will target the mech-Enforcers on the Irrigation levels and escort the prisoners out of the dome through the destroyed wall.
We will stay in contact via radio, with Will commanding our troops at the Irrigator and Jaron commanding the troops with me in the city. Once the Irrigation levels are clear, Jaron will call for a retreat.
"The most important priority is getting our people free and clear of that place." Meg has taken hold of the radio and is speaking to Will, at the same time giving the rest of us a stern look. "As soon as the extraction is complete, I want each and every one of you out of there. Understood?"
We nod our assent. Will's voice crackles from the speakers. "...agreed."
"That goes double for you, Commander." Meg scolds lightly. "Now, what time is curfew set for, tomorrow night?"
"...it's been brought down to eight o'clock, since the airship was taken."
"Good. They should have their guards' lowered if we send our ships in at midnight. Yourself, Gus and Lara will all need to be in your designated positions by then. Can you manage it?"
"...won't be a problem."
"Good. Thank you, Commander." Meg hands the radio back to me. "Jaron, Luca, a word?" Smoothly, she ushers the Waster brothers from the tent, leaving me alone with the radio.
I stare down at the impassive machine, scratching absently at its metal casing. Odd, how a mere piece of machinery can make you feel close and yet, still incredibly far from another person.
Eventually, I press the button. "It's just me, now."
Crackly silence. After a spell, "...just me, too."
I sit back in my chair, drawing my knees up to my chest. "I wanted to ask you to promise me something, but we have a poor history of keeping those."
"...ask me, anyway."
A small grin escapes my lips. "What would be the point? We can't keep promises, so what is the next best thing?"
Silence.
"...ask me to do it for you."
My chest gives an involuntary lurch and I have to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.
"Come home with us, tomorrow." I say. "Do it for me."
"...I will."
"Liar."
I think I hear him laugh. "...it's for you. I wouldn't let you down."
Resting with my head on my knees. "I believe you."
"...how are you holding up?"
"I'm all right."
"...liar."
The side of my mouth twitches. "I'm doing better than I thought I would be."
"...what happened?"
"I saw Harmen." I tell him. "I was convinced that he was there. I knew that he couldn't be, but I reacted before I could think." I swallow once, remembering. "I...I lost control."
I release the button, listening to the static echoing back at me.
"...you can't run from what happened to you anymore, Kay. You need to face it."
I shut my eyes tightly. "I don't know how."
"...bring it with you, to the fight."
I push the button to reply, but am unable to form the words. It takes me a few tries but finally, I manage to say it. "It scares me, Will. Seeing what I am capable of."
"...it should scare them."
The scars on my back prickle and chafe. I scratch at my shoulder absently, feeling a jolt of anger for what my body is blemished with. It isn't fair, what happened to me. It wasn't right, but it happened. I can't change the past.
If my mind is going to break over something I endured, then I should at least make sure my sword is pointed towards the enemy.
"...you're going to be all right."
Maybe. Eventually.
I bring the radio back up to my lips. "You trust me a hell of a lot more than I trust myself."
"...I'd trust you with my life."
"You had better not let me down."
"...I won't."
"I love you."
"...I love you. See you tomorrow."