J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

“Just because you don’t Succumb, don’t mean you’re living. You have to do that on your own, and you can’t live back here. All you can really do is survive.”

“So what’s your theory, then?”

“I don’t care enough to have one, but Tiberius thinks Gideon’s building something.”

“Building what? ”

“No clue, but it makes sense. Only reason you live in a place like this, a place the Assembly won’t even go, is to avoid prying eyes.”

“Some of the Helix told me Gideon was using the Strange Lands to make his people ‘stronger.’ Some kind of weird natural selection thing.”

Ravan shrugged. “Maybe so. But there’s more going on here, I guarantee. I don’t know what it is, and, with luck, I’ll never find out.”

Holt couldn’t agree more. The only problem was, he had a feeling Gideon’s agenda was directly tied to Zoey. Which meant he might have no choice but to participate in it.

“I’m… glad you got out of Polestar,” Ravan said, her voice softening just slightly. “I saw that place come down. Even from a distance it was scary. Thought you might be… you know.”

Holt looked at her. “Well, I’m not.”

Ravan looked back. “Good.”

They held each other’s gaze a few more steps, conflicted thoughts hanging in the air. “And you saved the Freebooter in the process,” Ravan said. “Her knight in shining armor.”

“She has a name.”

“I know,” Ravan replied. “Used it once, and that was enough for me.”

“Mira told me what happened in the silo. Sounds like you owe her your life.”

Ravan seemed unmoved. “Owe lots of people all kinds of things. So does everyone else these days.”

The words resonated, because Holt knew he owed her in similar ways. He wished he could express it to her, but he didn’t know what to say, or what she even wanted to hear anymore. In the end he opted for his usual response. Changing the subject. “What was up with that thing you brought? The artifact that replicates things?”

“Menagerie stole it off a Landship in Freezone years ago. Some kind of really valuable artifact. Tiberius kept it, even though he never cared much for artifacts. He knew it was a big bargaining chip with the right people, if he ever needed it.”

“Turns out he did,” Holt observed. “Tiberius must be making it worth your while.”

Ravan nodded. “Two star points.”

Holt instinctively looked at her left hand. The star tattoo was there, with four of its eight points filled in. Two more would make her someone with real power in the Menagerie. “A Commandant,” he said, impressed. “Still, with Archer out of the way, that really does just leave Avril. And… we both know what you really have your eye on.”

“Who knows what Avril will do. She hates the Menagerie and Tiberius. Convincing her to be her father’s heir apparent is going to take work, but that’s Tiberius’s problem. If by some weird occurrence she does take over, it doesn’t change anything. I get myself as high a ranking as I can before Tiberius dies. Then… well, I was always gonna have to fight for his place, wasn’t I? If it’s Avril I fight, so be it. The sooner we can grab her and get out of here, the better, far as I’m concerned.”

Holt didn’t particularly like her use of “we.” “I’m not going back to Faust, Ravan.”

Ravan studied him dubiously. “Of course you are. Going back’s your only real option. This place is crazy. These people are crazy. What you’re involved in is beyond crazy. You have to know that, we’re too much alike.”

He couldn’t argue. Even so, he was different than she remembered. He had changed that night, when he fled Faust. He’d changed again at Midnight City; but a part of him, a big part, agreed with her. It was crazy, and it was getting worse.

“If I were you,” Ravan went on, “I’d take my chances with Tiberius. Otherwise, the Menagerie will just keep hunting you. You should end things with him, in person, one way or another, not spend your life running.”

“And you’d still vouch for me?” Holt asked, though he was skeptical it would help much. He knew Tiberius too well.

Ravan nodded. “We play the angle, somehow, that you were in the Strange Lands looking for Avril. I’ll say you wanted to set things right, that you were integral to finding her, that it wouldn’t have happened without you, so on and so forth.”

“And Archer? How do you explain that away?”

“We don’t. You killed him. He was a son of a bitch and he was going to do something inhuman right in front of you. You gave him a chance to not be a monster and he didn’t take it. Tiberius won’t like that answer, there’s no answer he would, really, but he’ll sure as hell respect it.”

Holt looked at her doubtfully.

“I said it’s your best shot,” Ravan told him. “Not a sure shot.”

“Why help me?” Holt asked. It was an obvious question. “After everything?”

She looked at him intently. “If you’re anything, Holt, you’re sincere. Wearing masks isn’t something you do very well. Back at the merry-go-round—that was you. ” Ravan held his stare. “You’d come back, in time.”

As much as he might want to deny it, it would be easy for him to slip back into the way things were. Still, he had his obligations. He’d made promises and broken them. He didn’t want to break them again.

“We’ll see,” he said noncommittally.

Ravan nodded. “Yes, we will.”

* * *

MIRA WATCHED FROM A distance as Holt and Ravan moved through the ever-shrinking camp. They never touched, but they walked close. And it bothered her. Which, in itself, bothered her more. She remembered what he’d done on the wing of the plane, the keeping of his past from her—but those things were starting to carry less weight than they used to. Zoey was right, Holt hadn’t been himself at the Crossroads, and his explanation of the Menagerie connection, the choices he made and lived with…

Well, it wasn’t as easy to hate him for any of it now.

She sighed and shut her eyes. Why couldn’t anything be simple?

“Hello.” Mira jumped at a gentle yet gravelly voice behind her. When she turned, she saw the last person she expected. Gideon studied her, or, at least, as much as he could. His white-clouded gaze seemed to drift just a little bit to the right. It was disconcerting, but also disarming in a way. There was something about the fact that he couldn’t see her that made him less imposing.

“Hi,” she answered, studying him with uncertainty.

“May I ask your name?”

Mira hesitated. The question itself wasn’t odd, but she wondered about his interest. “Mira.”

“It is agreeable to meet you, Mira.” Gideon bowed as he spoke, but he did it with such familiarity that it seemed genuine, instead of some out-of-place custom. Gideon was Asian, obviously, born in some Eastern country. The idea made Mira’s thoughts turn to the rest of the world. What was happening in Japan? Or China? What struggles and adventures were their children having? It made her feel guilty realizing, in all her time since the invasion, she had never once thought about the rest of the planet. There had just never been time.

“The Prime is resting, I hope?” Gideon asked as he rose back upright.

“She’s trying. Ambassador helps with the pain, but I don’t know how much longer that will last. It just keeps getting worse.”

“Yes,” Gideon nodded. “And will continue to, I’m afraid.”

“Why?” Mira asked pointedly. “Don’t sidestep the question like everyone else does.”

Gideon cocked his head to the left slightly, like some interesting concept had just presented itself. “Walk with me,” he said after a moment, and then moved off without waiting to see if she would. Mira shook her head and stepped into pace beside him.