Anne Winchell - The Last War

Galley winced as the rows of police started firing into the crowd. No one would be killed by the stunguns, she knew, but she had been caught by a stungun once and still remembered the pain and shock vividly. She kept her face smooth and impassive, though, so Medane wouldn’t see her concern. He barely seemed to notice the increased activity around them. She wondered if she looked as inhuman and untouchable as he did. She needed him to see her as a serious threat, but she also wanted her people to know that she cared about them.

A woman’s scream pierced the air and Galley stepped forward. “Stop this.”

Medane said nothing.

“Order your men to stop,” Galley said.

Medane lifted a hand and a few officers stopped firing, but by now the crowd was returning fire and the police were under attack. Medane watched her as if curious to see what she would do.

Galley lunged and landed a punch on Medane’s stomach before he could defend himself. Sparks flew as her diamond fist smashed into his diamond torso. She knew he could feel pain even if there were no physical marks on his body and she started swinging wildly, desperate to hurt him as much as his men were hurting her people. He was quick and spun away from her fists no matter how hard she tried to strike him. The only sounds she heard were her heavy breathing and his; protestors and police alike stopped to watch the díamonts battle. At least her people wouldn’t be hurt anymore, Galley thought as she braced herself. She needed to keep Medane distracted long enough for her people to get to safety, but they seemed more interested in watching than running for safety.

Galley managed to put a few feet between herself and Medane and gestured for her people to leave. Some obeyed. Medane’s police made no move to stop them. Galley circled nervously, wondering what Medane was waiting for. Too late she realized she was circling until her back was against the edge of the walkway. He shoved her against the railing. Through the railing. She fell. Galley dug her fingers into the concrete building and slowed. If there had been windows or glass instead of concrete, she would have fallen the full thirty stories. As it was, she skidded down several stories, leaving deep gashes in the pale building. She needed to get back to protect her people.

She carefully made her way towards the nearest walkway, aware of Medane watching her progress from above and shouting at his men. As soon as her feet hit solid ground and she was out of sight, she turned back into her normal human form and headed for the closest building. She made it to a lobby full of panicked protestors just as the police arrived and raced out to the walkway. She blended into the crowd and slowly climbed the steps up to the 30 th floor, fighting against the fleeing crowd every step of the way. Nalia was the leader; she needed to make sure everyone was safe before she could leave.

Just as she exited the building and returned to the walkway, she heard a thin whistle and looked up. Medane stood only a few feet away, she realized with shock, but he didn’t recognize her without the diamond shield over her face. The whistle grew louder until it became a shape in the air, plummeting to the earth and landing with a crash directly between her and Medane. Surprisingly, it didn’t pierce the walkway but instead lay on the slightly dented asphalt. It didn’t even look damaged. Medane was startled and two protestors took advantage of his surprise to tackle him. Nalia lifted the object—a beautiful, delicate-looking bracelet—before gathering the remaining protestors together and leaving the area.

Nalia couldn’t help smiling as she glanced back and saw Medane and the police in complete disarray. The protest might not have been entirely successful but Nalia—as Galley—had proved herself a capable leader of the movement.

Medane barely waited for the protestors to leave before returning to his office and summoning his fellow díamonts Atheus and Lethe to an emergency meeting. Both lived in the Western World and Medane worried the entire four hours it took for them to arrive. They wouldn’t be traveling together, Medane knew, and when they arrived it would be the first time in years the three living díamonts would be in the same room at the same time.

Only there weren’t just three of them anymore, Medane thought angrily. A new díamont. It shouldn’t be possible. It meant that all of his suspicions about Atheus were true. Why would Atheus deliberately violate the law against creating new díamonts? He above all people knew how dangerous a rogue díamont could be. Or he should, Medane thought. Medane and Atheus had been the only ones to stand up to Soren during the Last War and they had vowed never to allow that kind of destruction to happen again.

A light flickered above his desk and Medane tried to compose himself. Atheus had arrived. He had just released a deep breath when the elevator opened and Medane saw Atheus through the glass door as the assistant showed him in. Lethe wouldn’t be far behind.

At the sight of Atheus’ balding, pale head and lightly wrinkled face, Medane’s anger softened. He remembered the nights they had spent together huddled in a military base, wondering if the humans planned on executing them. For so many years, they only had each other as friends, and it was hard to sustain any real anger in the face of such friendship. Atheus’ face lit into a sincere smile and Medane clasped his hand.

“My friend,” he whispered.

Another flickering light went on and both men went pale. Lethe had arrived. Friendship vanished, replaced by resentment and fear. Only one creature on the planet had the power to destroy díamonts: Lethe. Lethe was a díamont himself, but almost never wore his díamont form or used his powers. He was created solely for the purpose of killing Soren, Medane, and Atheus. Once that task was accomplished, he would kill himself. When Lethe had first woken up in the lab, Medane and Atheus had been prepared to sacrifice their lives if it meant an end to the violence. They took care of Lethe during his brief childhood and when it was Lethe’s time to kill them, he had refused. Instead, Lethe said that they could continue to live as long as both of them maintained peace in the world.

By calling this meeting, Medane knew he was signaling an end to the era of díamonts. Atheus had crossed the line by creating a new díamont and both of them would pay the price. Looking at Atheus, Medane wondered why he had done something so reckless. Atheus must have had his reasons for creating a díamont, Medane reasoned. Perhaps it was wrong to assume that his motives were evil. Medane should at least give his friend a chance to explain himself.

The three men stood until Medane realized they were waiting for him to start the meeting. He gestured them to sit, trying to hide his awkwardness. He was a world leader and knew how to command people, but in his heart he still thought of Atheus as his older brother and Lethe as his boss. It was strange to be the one leading the meeting when he held them in such high regard.

“Thank you for coming immediately,” Medane began.

He paused, trying to figure out a way to introduce the subject without laying blame on Atheus. He must have paused too long because Lethe leaned forward and spoke.

“I know none of us likes being together, so let’s make it quick. Why are we here?”

Lethe’s face was expressionless, but it had been designed that way. Medane knew he was deeply troubled that Medane had taken the extraordinary step of calling them together.

“There’s a new díamont in NeoLondon.”

Silence. Medane immediately looked to Atheus, who was pale and perhaps even frightened. But was he guilty? Medane couldn’t tell.

“The díamont calls himself Galley. He showed up a few hours ago leading a protest. He shows violent tendencies and already has command of a large group of people.”