The back door of the truck opened, letting in a rush of bright summer light. He squinted at a line of Meta hovcars and trucks, and weathered military buildings, before the three men entered the truck with them and secured blindfolds over their eyes. He resisted when they yanked his arms behind his back, feeling an old spark of fear at the thought of being blind and helpless in a ruthless place like this.
"Keep fighting and we'll rip your arms out of their sockets and be done with it," Craters growled at him.
"Take them in there," an unfamiliar voice said in English.
Someone grabbed his bicep and jerked him to his feet. Breathing hard, Kray stumbled out of the truck and let himself be led across paved road. Play along, he commanded his tense muscles. Play along until he gained enough energy to planeshift them out of this hell.
Alex seemed to be biding her time, too. Patience and discipline were the foundations of Meta teachings. Battles were sometimes sacrificed to win the war. And in their case, winning the war meant making it out of here with both of their lives. He hoped she understood that.
You're just going to have to stick around.
There were voices around them. Not too close, but farther in the distance, as if there was a bustle of activity going on. He strained his ears to hear their words, hoping to find out more about where they were exactly, but it was hopeless. The Meta station closest to the Hudson River was in the New York metropolis, but they'd traveled for hours in the truck. They could have gone in any direction and to any city.
Kray knew the moment they were taken indoors. The pinkish tinge of the world beyond his eyelids turned pure black. They were also now walking linoleum or marble, judging by the click-clack of shoes as their captives escorted them. And the air smelled different in here. It smelled like disinfectant and bleach. Sterile instead of the dirt-ridden world of the Wasteland.
Rousseau and someone else were talking in English. He could hear their words now.
". . . unlike anything he could've hoped for," Rousseau was saying. "Tell him we're going to need twice the supplies for the next six months."
"Don't get greedy now, Rousseau," the man said in the smooth and cultured accent of someone clearly raised in the Mainland. His voice was strangely muffled, as if it were coming from a tube. "You agreed on three months."
"That's before I knew how precious this cargo is." Rousseau laughed heartily. "I'm a businessman. I can tell that this one means a lot to your boss. Why wouldn't I want to get my worth for her?"
"You're not a businessman," the Meta said icily, disdain thick in his voice. "You're a crook."
"Our here, they're one and the same, my friend."
A door clanged open and Kray nearly tripped down a flight of stairs when he placed his foot forward and couldn't find solid ground. The person escorting him hauled him back up before he fell while at the same time shoving him forward to make it clear he wasn't being helpful.
"You realize where you are, don't you?" the man, probably a Meta, was saying to Rousseau.
"I'm standing in a pit of vipers, yes, but it's a good thing these particular vipers have been trained to discriminate before they bite."
"You're full of yourself as usual."
"Which is why your boss deals with me and not one of the many useless gangs littering the Wasteland."
"Wait in here," the Meta barked when they walked through another door. "I will let him know about your latest amendment to the agreement."
"Arrogant abomination," Rousseau muttered in Aldean a few seconds later.
The escorts shoved Kray into a chair and grabbed his arms, settling them on the armrests. He heard a sharp clank and suddenly couldn't move his wrists. They secured the manacles to his ankles as well. He tested the strength of the manacles by lifting one arm as far as he could. It barely budged before he was exhausted. Any other day he might have been able to break free, but not today. Today, he was at their mercy.
The blindfold was pulled from his eyes. He winced against the glare of the fluorescent light. The room was sparse, furnished with two metal chairs—which he and Alex occupied—and a bunch of electronic equipment on a table in front of them. There was an old-fashioned computer and a desk in a corner, connected to wires that were in turn also connected to a video camera sitting on a tripod.
The camera was aimed at Alex.
She gave him a grim look that said, I told you so. They were going to use her to send a message, probably to her father. Blackmail? A ransom? Whatever it was, he knew the outcome wouldn't be good. Even if General Drasse didn't love his daughter, he couldn't leave her in the hands of criminals. It would be terrible for his public image if he did.
But whatever these people wanted from him would be just as terrible.
The Meta returned to the room with three of his buddies. They were dressed in the standard Meta uniform, but they also wore full gas masks to cover their faces. That explained the muffled quality to the speaker's voice earlier.
"Our leader has agreed to your terms," the speaker from before said. Kray could only make out his glowing golden eyes behind the mask. "He also wanted me to tell you not to push your luck in the future. He might not be so amenable."
"I will take his warning to heart," Rousseau answered with a small bow and a smile playing at his lips.
Kray glanced at Alex in question, wondering who this leader was, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring straight at the camera, her eyebrows furrowed. His heart began to sink. "Do whatever they ask you to do," he said to her quietly.
Craters stepped up, chuckling. "Normally, talking without permission would have earned you a bruise, but I'll allow it this time. Listen to him, girl. If you value your life, you will do exactly as we order."
Not the best kind of threat for someone like her, but Kray didn't correct the man.
One of the Metas, probably the technical expert, went over to the camera and fiddled with it. A green light came on, signaling that the camera was recording. Kray hadn't seen one of these contraptions in person. They were obsolete compared to drones, which were small gadgets that either flew like bees or moved like spiders with extendable limbs that allowed for filming from different angles.
But the downside to such technology was that everything was registered to a device. With a recorder like this one, they could make an untraceable video and then use proxy networks to upload it to the Nexus. If they were smart, they wouldn't even send it from here. They'd send their messengers to hand-deliver the video to another location, possibly somewhere in the Skads or the Outskirts. No one would ever know where it originated from.
"Cadet Drasse," the Meta in charge addressed Alex. He paused as his eyes traveled over her body, assessing her with that cool and calculated look that was a trademark of his kind. "You look like you've seen better days."
"I've had worse," she replied in a similarly detached tone.
His boots thudded heavily as he paced in front of her. "I would expect nothing less from you. Under normal circumstances I would offer you better hospitality, but unfortunately fate has brought us together at a most inopportune time."
"Is that your justification for keeping a fellow Meta prisoner while you work hand in hand with Sanser thugs?"
His body stiffened just barely, and Kray could tell that he was bothered by that working with Sansers bit more than anything else. "I assure you, these . . . Sanser thugs are a means to an end."
Rousseau chuckled while Alex asked, "To what end?"
"Have you heard of the Human Restoration Project?"
Of course she had. Everyone knew about HARP. It was a growing online movement that promoted heavily pro-human and anti-Sanser sentiments. The equivalent of supremacy groups a long time ago when things like that mattered. No one knew who the group was exactly, but there were rumors of members having secret rallies and murdering innocent Sansers in the Mainland.
"A long time ago, human beings ruled this world," the Meta declared. "We were kings and queens. We owned entire empires. Until the Sanser invasion, that is. Bit by bit, they took our world from us until the day came when they decided to get rid of it all. They burned everything to the ground. And to add insult to injury they left their descendants in our backyard, free to grow stronger until the day comes when they will attack again."
He thrust out a hand and tightened it into a fist. "We are the only thing that stands between humanity and extermination. Instead of joining us in arms, your father and his ilk have chosen to bring these savages onto holy grounds and empower them."
The Metas beside him made sounds of displeasure at the thought of all those Sanser recruits sullying Calsin Foundation with their presence. Rousseau was smiling as though he were watching a comedy show. He didn't care for the politics or the fact that his own people would be wiped off the face of the planet if HARP had its way. Businessmen like him didn't bother with a conscience.
"Your father is a fool, Cadet Drasse," the Meta said, lowering his hand. "And the only thing more dangerous than someone who is willfully malicious is one who doesn't understand the consequences of his actions."
"If this is how you feel," Alex replied, "why don't you confront my father with your truth? Instead you in the shadows like cowards and hire criminals to do your dirty work."
He squared his shoulders. "You're a child. You couldn't begin to understand how the world works. But maybe you'll do your part to save it."
"My part?"
"You will send a message to your father. You will tell him to step down as general. And you will instruct him to keep silent on the reason why."
"And if I don't?"
"In exactly ten hours, your father will receive a package. It will either contain a recording of you pleading with him to save your life or your severed head. The choice is yours."
Kray's heart began to race when he saw the expression on her face. She looked sick and weak, but there was resilience in her eyes. Something told him she was thinking about his proposal, weighing out her options. The quick glance she aimed his way told him she was also thinking about what would happen to him if she made the wrong choice.
"I'll do it," she said, "but on one condition. You let my friend go."
"Alex," Kray protested, angry that she'd martyr herself after all this time.
"Out of the question," Rousseau spoke up. "At the very least he's a bargaining chip. And at the most . . . he's special. Either way he stays."
"You're saying you have no intention of letting us go then," Alex said.
The Meta lost his cool. He marched over and stooped over her, grabbing her face in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "I'm saying," he growled in a dangerous voice, "you will do exactly as you're ordered to and we will give you a quick death. Otherwise you will die slowly and painfully. Does that sound like a good enough deal for you?"
Alex moved so quickly Kray almost missed it. She snapped her head to one side and sank her teeth into the space between the Meta's thumb and index finger. He cried out and tugged his hand free, but she wasn't done. With a growl that resonated through the room, she broke the clasp on her right wrist and lifted it to the Meta's face.
She grabbed ahold of his gas mask and shoved it higher, pulling it over his head and letting it clatter to the stone floor. For a moment he stared at her in shocked silence, this young-looking man with wheat-blond hair and an angular, unremarkable face. But judging by the way she reacted, she recognized him.
"You," Alex murmured.
"Who?" Kray asked.
"Captain Isaiah Aries. In charge of Calsin's East Wasteland Quadrant. Stan Aries' father." Her expression was full of realization. There was fresh blood on her lips—the Meta's blood. "Your leader—you're working for General Hanson. He put you up to this."
Aries' face was rapidly darkening. Kray tried to break his manacle like Alex had done, but hunger and fatigue were making it impossible to get his Sen flowing, to channel everything he had into his limbs and save Alex before Aries reacted.
In one smooth move, Aries slipped his Sanser blade free. He let out a furious roar and lifted it above her head. Rousseau moved fast and shifted over to the Meta, stopping him just as he swung the blade.
"Are you mad?" Rousseau shouted, holding Aries by the collar of his uniform. "We have a deal, you fool! You don't get to kill her until after you've done your job."
The other Metas rushed forward and squared off against their Sanser counterparts. Everyone was shouting at once. Aries kept saying she knew too much. Alex was forgotten for all of five seconds, but it was all the time she needed. Her hand barely grazed Aries' belt before she pulled free a set of rings. She chose a thick long key that looked like it would slide into the lock, reaching over and unlocking Kray's left arm. Then she tossed the keys into his lap.
"My father will have your head for this!" she shouted at the Meta captain, her eyes flashing defiantly when he turned to her. "I know who you are. I know where we are. You might as well kill me now or I'll make sure you'll be standing in front of an execution squad before long."
"Bitch," the Meta growled at her.
"Focus on the plan!" Rousseau barked at him, desperation in his voice.
Kray was already on his last lock, the one securing his right ankle, but he felt like it was taking forever. The last thing he needed was one of these men looking at him before he got free. And then what? Did Alex expect him to start throwing punches and hope for the best? There were six of them. Heavily armed and trained in combat.
"Run."
Alex whispered the command, but he heard her anyway. He cursed under his breath as he threw off the last of the restraints and bolted for the door. He couldn't fight a group of trained and heavily armed people by himself. He knew that. Alex knew it, too. That was why she'd freed him. So that one of them could escape.
Goddamn you, Alex, he thought furiously. They'd had a deal. She promised she wouldn't risk her life anymore. And here she was, throwing herself to the wolves to save him.
He wasn't about to make it easy for her.
He barely made it to the door before his enemies noticed him. He bolted into the hallway and ran for the stairway, his chest hurting with each ragged breath. Water, his body seemed to yell in agony, I need water.
Kray ignored his need and took the stairs as fast as his quivering legs would take him. The men and women in pursuit were right on his heel, their pounding boots clamoring up the stairs with him. He waited until they almost caught him before he called upon his Sen.
His desperation overrode his lack of energy. A torrent of Sen rushed through him, enabling him to do exactly what he'd been hoping for all along.
He planeshifted.
It was like being still one moment and the next, hurtling forward in a train that felt like it was moving at the speed of light. He lurched forward when it ended and managed to catch himself before pitching face-first into the stone floor.
"What the—?" a voice said.
"Kray!" Alex called in warning.
He ducked on instinct and avoided a punch to the face. The shadow of the arm told him where his opponent was. He immediately reared back a fist and drove it into the Meta's solar plexus. The man gasped and then fell to the ground, curling into a tight ball.
Kray slammed a boot into his temple for good measure, knocking him out cold. Thankfully he was the only person left behind to keep an eye on her.
"What are you doing here?" Alex asked.
He rushed over and grabbed the keys still lying on the floor. "You think I'd walk out of here without making sure you were coming, too?" he asked as he undid her shackles.
"You planeshifted back," Alex said, wonder in her voice.
"Lucky for you," he answered. "You have no idea how pissed off I am right now, Al. But there's no time to discuss it. We have to go before they come back for you."
He helped her to her feet, trying very hard not to sway with the depths of his hunger. Using his power had taken a toll on him. He wanted to sink onto the floor and never get up again. He wasn't sure he had the strength to walk out of this room. Anything more would kill him.
"I can't planeshift us out of here," he said, his stomach sinking.
She gave him a fierce look. "We'll just have to do it the regular way."
Alex led the way, telling him in a hushed tone that all the Meta stations were built almost identical to one another and she'd visited plenty over the summer. He raced after her as she hurried past the stairwell and took them into another section of the building.
She was limping, he noted. There was no damage to her legs; she was limping because her illness was paining her. Her uniform pants were dirty and her black Metallica t-shirt was torn at the corner. And her normally-slick black hair was wild around her face.
And yet he knew that if he ran into her in the streets of the Wasteland, he would still be able to identify her in a crowd. There was no mistaking the inherent grace and the skill in each movement. The powerful and elegant swings of her arms and legs as she darted ahead of him. She was one of the queens that Aries had mentioned. Nothing she'd been through had taken that away from her. And in a moment like this, he found it hard to feel sorry for her.
"This way," she panted as she opened the door at the end of the corridor and dashed up another set of stairs built into a spiral. "It'll take us all the way up to the rooftop."
"And that's going to help us how exactly?" Kray called out.
"It's where they keep the jets."
"What?" he exclaimed. "We can't fly out of here."
She was about five steps ahead of him, taking them two at a time. "There are at least a dozen Metas roaming each station at any given moment. And even if we manage somehow to get to the hovcars without being spotted, they'll give pursuit the second we break through the gate. This is the only way."
"You wouldn't happen to know how to pilot a Meta jet, would you?" he asked uneasily.
Alex threw a bloody grin over her shoulder. "I'm a quick study."
At least one of them was confident. She threw open the rooftop door and they stood together at the exit, face to face with three Metas idling by a couple of jets. The two men and the woman reached for the weapons as they took in their appearance.
"Get out of our way and I'll be sure to let my father know that you had nothing to do with the abduction of a fellow Meta," Alex said to them, her hands fisted at her sides.
The woman and one of the men traded nervous glances, but the third Meta glared at her. "You've got some nerve saying that, kid. You're a traitor to your own kind. Hanging around that Sanser. Treating him like your equal." He spat at her feet.
Alex didn't waste her breath on words. They were HARP people; she had no chance against the years of brainwashing they'd gotten. Kray's eyes wandered to the closest jet. Fifteen feet between them and freedom. Well, fifteen feet and three angry Metas.
They attacked at once. These weren't cadets or untrained Sansers in the Wasteland. They were Metas who'd completed years of training. They were disciplined, precise. Deadly. He focused most of his strength on keeping their blades from touching them, which proved impossible since they attacked from different directions.
He threw up a barrier that protected Alex from a fatal blow, opening himself up to a slash to his forearm that drew a gush of blood. Another violent swing of a sword nearly took his head off. Ducking, he scrambled around the female Meta and hit her in the side with a back kick. One of the men immediately took her place, sending him backward in a flurry of attacks.
Alex cried out when her opponent got in a punch to her gut. For one horrific moment Kray thought she'd go down. But she gritted her teeth and took him out with an uppercut. The woman was back for round two by then, her blade slimmer and quicker than those of her companions. She got him with a few quick but superficial cuts that still hurt like hell.
Both Metas focused him, overwhelming him with their combined power. Lucky for him, Alex was there to pick up the slack. She grabbed the blade of the fallen Meta and rushed the woman. With a move the woman didn't expect, she stabbed the blade right through her.
The remaining Meta stared in shock at his fellow Meta as she slipped to the floor. His hesitation was his downfall: Alex slashed the sharp edge of the blade across his throat, ending his life. It was Kray's turn to stare at her. She looked down at them with clear disgust written on her features. "They don't deserve the uniform on their backs."
"Remind me never to cross you," he cracked as she strode toward the jet.
"There's nothing you could ever do to make me want to kill you, Kray," she replied, her tone softening in a way that was still so unexpected to him.
It melted away his anger at the way she'd endangered her life for him. But he didn't know what to do with her honesty. "You sure about that?"
"Positive."
"Touching. If I weren't so annoyed with you two, I might actually be moved to shed a tear or two."
Kray stiffened at the deep and sarcastic voice and turned around to face Rousseau and Craters. Craters and about four other Sansers had guns trained on them. Alex took a small step closer to the jet and stopped when half the guns followed her movements.
"Give me that blade, girlie," Craters said, drawing closer to her with a handgun trained on her head.
Her hand tightened around its handle before she relinquished it. There was frustration on her face that mirrored what he felt. So close. Another few seconds and they would've been safe. Now they were right back to square one—except this time they were in more danger than before. There was no way the Metas or the Crimsons would release or ransom them now.
Rousseau pressed his fingers to his temple and closed his eyes, sighing wearily. "This was supposed to be easy for all of us. I was going to let you live once we were out of here. Obviously we would need you to keep your father in check—albeit with a few toes and fingers missing. And you, Chimey—you would have made a nice addition to my collection. Instead you both went and ruined my plans. Do you know what that means?"
"You'll let us go?" Kray said since he had nothing to lose at that point.
"It means, for one thing, that I don't need you, boy."
"No!" Alex screamed when Rousseau leveled his gun at Kray's head.
The crack of the gunshot made Kray flinch. He hadn't been able to summon a barrier this time. There wasn't enough strength in his body to do anything except brace himself for the brutal impact. Searing pain exploded through his—leg? He hadn't been shot in the head.
As he fell, he realized why. Rousseau was suddenly engaged in a physical altercation with a man in a hooded black cloak and a matching mask. There were two more of them, all wearing identical outfits. And judging by the flurry of abilities they used, they were Sansers.
"Are you okay?" Alex asked, dropping to her knees beside him.
He looked down at the blood pooling on his trousers leg, flowing heavily from the bullet wound in his thigh. She tore off the leg of her own trousers and made bandages that she deftly wrapped around his wound to staunch the blood.
"I'll live," he grunted. "But if I don't get stabbed or shot again for the rest of my life, I'll die a happy man."
"Who are they?" she said in disbelief.
"My guardian angel. And his friends."
They watched silently as the four newcomers made quick work of the thugs. Two females and two males. They were more than trained. They were the epitome of Sanser perfection. They utilized their abilities in quick and efficient bursts: a quick shift to get closer or away from the enemy, a sword materializing out of nowhere just in time to cut down an enemy, powerful barriers that kept the barrage of bullets at bay.
They fought like the warriors of legend, he realized with dawning awe. It wasn't long before Rousseau and his men had crumpled unconscious or dead to the ground.
One of the males, the tall but lean one approached them. "The whole station must have heard those shots," he said, reaching down to give Kray a hand. "Quickly. We don't have time to waste."
Kray gazed into the black mask's shadowed eye holes, shock keeping him rooted where he sat. That voice. He knew that voice. He'd heard it many times over the past two weeks.
It belonged to Instructor Masso.