Nick James - Crimson rising

Eva takes in the horizon. “Alkine would never do something like that.”

I glance at Ryel. His eyes narrow. “I hear something.”

“The swarm?” I whisper.

“No. It’s coming from around… ” His words fade as he backs toward the wreckage of the cruiser, treading carefully on the dirt. In moments he’s rounded the corner. I tiptoe after, scared to let him out of my sight.

Then I notice them, sitting in the distance. The hazy Fringe atmosphere hides them well. If it wasn’t for the reflection of sunlight on metal, I’d think I was imagining things.

Ships, lined in front of our cruiser in wait. From this distance, I can’t tell if they’re the same ones that shot us down or not. It doesn’t matter. They’re a problem.

I grab Ryel’s shoulder. “Stay close. We don’t know who’s inside.”

Ryel nods. “I don’t think we-”

A bullet whizzes through the air, feet from my shoulder. I flatten against the side of the cruiser. The rush of air silences. I look back at Ryel. His mouth hangs open. His pistol falls to the ground.

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

Instead, I watch in horror as he topples, face forward, into the dirt.

“Ryel!” I fall on my knees beside him and grab onto his shoulder.

His legs tremble before falling still. I watch the clench of his fingers loosen in the dirt.

“Ryel.” I shake his shoulder. “Ryel, where did it hit you?”

No answer.

The others join us. I see their shadows before I turn around. They stare down, unable-or unwilling-to speak.

It’s not until I hear the tread of boots that I turn back around. And there they are, seven of them. Agents.

In the middle stands Agent Morse, flanked by three on each side. His disappointed expression is framed by a lightweight battle helmet. I scan the length of his arm until I reach his fist. He’s armed. They all are.

I stand. My voice comes out a choked whisper. “You shot him.”

Morse’s brows narrow. “It was self defense.”

“He wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

Eva pushes forward until she’s at my side. “Please tell me that’s a stunner.”

Morse remains still, his lips a straight, unreadable line.

“He’s not moving,” I continue. “You shot him.”

Morse clips his pistol to a holster on his back. “Listen, buddy. You’ve got no grounds to argue with me right now. Do you know how many regulations you’ve broken?”

“Oh my god.” I stagger back. “You killed him.” I glance from agent to agent, shaking my head. “You all killed him.”

“Jesse,” Morse continues. “You’ve left us with very few options.”

“Did Alkine tell you to do this?”

Morse glances at the nearest agent before answering. “He ordered us to retrieve you. Your transportation has been run to the ground. Mission accomplished.”

I look down at Ryel. I can barely stand to meet Morse’s eyes. “He was the only one who could tell me anything. He knew about Haven. He knew about the Authority!” Morse motions for two of the agents to approach us. “Calm down. We’ll get you back and make sure-”

Cassius bolts in front of me, hand outstretched before him. I watch as sparks dance between his fingers, like a broken transformer ready to burst. “You’re not taking him anywhere.”

Morse steps back. His face remains firm. “You must be the brother. The Pearlhound.”

“Ex,” he says. “Take one step closer and I ignite every one of these sparks.” He clutches his pistol in the other hand.

“Okay.” Morse nods. “We’re gonna turn this into a standstill? This is not in your best interests, Fisher.”

I move to Cassius’s side, pistol raised. Eva and Avery do the same. We’re not much against seven armed agents, but it’s something. They’re not gonna get away with this.

“By any means necessary,” Morse continues. “That’s what the captain said.” He glances over his shoulder at another agent. “Johnson?”

The man jogs backward a few steps before turning and sprinting to the nearest ship.

I squint. His silhouette disappears in the haziness. “What’s he doing?”

Morse taps his foot on the dirt. “You wanna play, Fisher? We’re gonna play.”

“You don’t know-”

“No,” he interrupts. “You don’t know. Smuggling some kind of explosive on board the Academy, staging a jailbreak.” I think back to the red Pearl knocking me from the Academy’s brig. Falling from the open hole. “It wasn’t an explosive.”

“Sneaking into a secret bunker,” Morse continues. “Hijacking a shuttle and leaving it in the middle of a Fringe town.” His eyes widen as he notices my pained expression. “That’s right, buddy. We followed you to Syracuse. We followed you all the way to the swarms. The list keeps getting longer, all the things you’ve done.” He pauses. “I don’t understand it. The Academy is your home. We’ve fed you, taken care of you-”

“You haven’t done anything,” I interrupt.

“Maybe not, but that ship is filled with people that want the best for you. And you’re spitting in our faces. Where’s the trust, Fisher?”

My hand shakes as I keep the pistol forward. “Locking me up in the brig? Refusing to listen to me? Do you know what it feels like to have an entire chunk of your life tossed out? Maybe it’s bad. Maybe I shouldn’t even be thinking about it so much, but you haven’t even given me the chance to figure any of this out.”

Before Morse can respond, an agent to his right pushes forward and removes his helmet. I stare at the guy’s youthful face in astonishment. Even when I recognize him, I can’t get out his name. Eva has to.

“Bergmann?” she says.

August Bergmann crosses his arms, helmet hanging from the tips of his fingers. “Look, Fisher. Alkine wants you back and he doesn’t care how we do it. Cooperate, and I won’t have to kick your puny little butt. You know I can do it.” My mouth hangs open. Bergmann’s not even out of training yet. He’s still probationary. “Does he know you’re here?”

Morse steps forward. “Captain Alkine allowed me to make the appropriate arrangements. I thought it would be best to bring men you were familiar with.”

Anger seethes inside me. Sure, I’m familiar with Bergmann, but not in a good way.

I watch as Agent Johnson returns from the haze, only he’s not alone. A second figure approaches beside him. As they near closer, I realize it’s Skandar.

I hear a sharp intake of breath as Eva realizes what she’s seeing, but she keeps it at that. Skandar glances over at us. He doesn’t smile. His hands are free. I don’t see any bruises or marks on his face, but his body language-his posture- seems different than usual.

Morse grabs hold of Skandar’s shoulder and pulls him forward. “You’ve got nowhere to go.” His eyes focus on mine, then he nudges Skandar in the side. “Tell him, Harris.”

Skandar grits his teeth as he looks up at me. I keep my eyes on Morse for another second before turning. “What is it?”

Skandar shrugs. “Jesse… ”

Morse prods him. “Just spit it out, okay?”

Skandar glares at him before continuing. “They brought me back to Alkine’s office after those agents captured me. I thought he was gonna be pissed. I thought maybe he’d throw me out of the Academy.”

“Go on,” Morse coaxes. “He doesn’t care what you thought.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking like he wants to sink into the dirt and disappear. “Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “So instead of throwing me in the brig, he opened a file. It was… it was things they’ve been saying about you.”

My grip loosens on the handle of the pistol. “Who?”

“The Drifters,” he mutters. “All sorts of stuff. Good things, bad things. Alkine had organized it all. I don’t know… he ran it through programs or whatever it is guys like him do. And he showed me this thing… he called it ‘the fork.’”