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Rift Saga Book 2

Andreas Christensen


Rift Saga, Book 2

Copyright 2015 Andreas Christensen

Editor: Shelley Holloway, Holloway House

Cover design: Yoly Cortez, Cormar Covers


The story continues…

From the ashes of what used to be North America, a new nation was forged by survivors of the Fall, who descended from their Lunar colonies. They called this new nation the Covenant, and two centuries later, it is stronger than ever. The Moon people rule with an iron fist, to ensure their dominance, for the Covenant is a nation where a chosen few prosper at the cost of everyone else, who are forced to serve their masters their entire lives.

Sue and Dave are on the run with a price on their heads. They have both discovered deadly secrets that the Covenant must keep hidden in order to protect their long-term plans for world domination. Meanwhile, the power struggles within the factions of the Moon people reach new heights, and a new development is about to set the world on fire.

This is the second book in the Rift Saga, which is set more than two centuries after the events of Exodus.



As Counselor Mark Novak glanced around the table, he took note of the people around him—the most influential of their political and military leadership. On this particularly eventful night, the citizens in the city of Legacy, the capital of the Covenant, went on with their lives, partying, as the Moon people usually did, even this late.

Meanwhile, this group of leaders gathered inside Strategos Command, the headquarters of the military leadership, was ; watching the big screen that covered the wall opposite the long table where Mark sat. Most of the military men and women carried the rank of Strategos, which among their enemies would translate to general or admiral. The political representatives were faction leaders of the Luna Council, the political assembly through which the heads of the great families of the Moon people governed.

Mark Novak, ever the adviser, the man behind the scenes, sat next to Head Servant Alexej Lunde, head of state, and the face of the Covenant leadership, appointed by the majority of the Luna Council. Mark noticed how a smile crept forth on his old friend’s lips, and how his eyes twinkled as he watched the screen.

Lunde had always advocated that the Covenant take a careful approach with Buchanan, their nemesis west of the Rift. They were armed with nuclear weapons, and a worthy adversary. But as for the North, he had been pushing for a shock strike like this throughout the last decade. Now his dream was finally coming true. The French were about to be destroyed, and the English of Buchanan would be contained.

The two old friends sipped from their glasses in silence, savoring the taste of fine whiskey, saved for such an occasion. And in Lunde’s case, probably savoring the moment, as well. Mark took a deep gulp, steadying his nerves, trying not to think of the carnage out there. He kept his eyes on the screen, watching as new and updated information came in from both the orbital platforms and from the forces on the ground.

A topographic map of the continent covered most of the screen, with a small square in the lower left corner explaining the symbols and colors. Mark didn’t look at the legend once. He knew the red dots marked the impacts, blue dots marked major battles, and the green marked areas under Covenant control. The green grew steadily as the French were driven further north and west, away from the border.

On top of the legend were numbers: red showed the number of enemy casualties, preliminary approximations, of course; while the green number, which represented Covenant soldiers, was much more accurate because the suit of every Covenant soldier transmitted vital data back to field command, as well as to Strategos Command in Legacy, allowing them to keep tabs on the big picture. Both numbers kept rising, although the red count was at least ten times higher. Mark tried not to think about the total “enemy” count the red number actually tracked—knowing it included the innocent civilians caught in the crossfire.

Another red dot appeared, flashing for a few seconds. Mark jumped as spontaneous applause broke out. This was the one they had been waiting for.

“That’s Hudson gone,” Lunde said loudly, his voice rising a pitch, and cheers went up from the others. Mark eyed him sideways.

The capital of the North, home of the French, was now nothing but a radioactive hole in the ground.

It had been planned for decades, but put off because of fear of the damage a full-scale nuclear attack would cause to the land and the atmosphere. Lunde’s faction in the Luna Council had pushed for this, supported by First Janissary Ivanov, who headed an even more militant wing. Finally though, Carl Hordvik had decided to side with Lunde, gaining him the upper hand. The more conservative Stanov and Petrovic factions were outnumbered at last.

The Covenant was meant to expand. It was their destiny.

Tonight’s attack meant the end of the northern threat. After just six hours of war, only small pockets of resistance remained. The westernmost groups of refugees would be allowed out, simply because the Covenant didn’t have the manpower to stop them all, but the rest would be captured or slaughtered. Mark felt the bile rising in his throat, but took another deep gulp of his drink and swallowed hard. He had known it would come to this, eventually.

“You must be proud of your son,” Head Servant Lunde said, never taking his eyes off the screen. Strategos Carl Hordvik, head of the Security Directorate, drew himself up, smiling for once.

“He finally decided to grow up, it seems,” Hordvik senior replied.

Mark watched the blue dots that represented Covenant units, scattered all over the screen. They showed how the might of the Covenant was spreading. Soon the blue dots would cover the entire North. One of those dots represented Evan Hordvik’s squad. He had just rejoined the Janissaries after his run-in with Ivanov, when then-Tacticus Atlas had been arrested. Evan had expressed a desire to return to combat duty, and while his application for officer training was being processed, he’d serve with his old unit in the Janissaries. Evan’s newfound ambition would make his father proud, Mark thought. For years, Evan had defied his father´s wishes, so this was a new development.

The Janissaries had flown north under the cover of night, deep into enemy territory, leaving only the greenest of initiates behind. The Covenant had gone all in, in order to crush the French within hours. Normally, the Janissaries guarded the northern borderlands, and other units seldom ventured north of the border, except on special occasions. This time, the attack was comprised of not just the Janissaries, but Moon people units, as well, in the thousands.

When planning the operation, someone had said that the Covenant would be vulnerable if Buchanan decided to use the opportunity to attack, with only the Wardens left to protect the border. But Mark knew that was not going to happen. His sources knew Buchanan would stay back, unless the war in the north dragged on. Anything could happen then. But the plan called for a complete victory within forty-eight hours, and so far, they were on schedule.

Another red dot appeared, and again a cheer arose. Mark watched the casualty numbers rising. The North was finished, and the Covenant had, in just a few hours, effectively doubled its territory. Also, it would soon be free of the one thing that had constrained them for so long. That fact troubled Mark, as he pondered what this would lead to in the immediate and long-term future. The Moon people believed they were destined to rule the world. And soon, there would be nobody left to stop them from achieving just that.

Chapter 1


Evan Hordvik trudged through the scorched dirt, ash coating his visor every few seconds, only to be removed by the tiny nanobots of his suit and helmet. The Geiger counts were skyrocketing, and meds were coursing through his veins in order to keep the effects of radiation at bay. The suit took the brunt of it, of course, but even so, there would be some nasty side effects for many of them in the long term.

He cleared his mind of it, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. They had medical technology to deal with most of the radiation-induced conditions, including most forms of cancer. Nothing to do about it now. Better to worry about hidden snipers and enemy holdouts. They could kill just as easily, and so much faster, than any radiation. He peered through the fallout, which decreased visibility to a few meters in front of him. They all relied heavily on the suits, not least of all when it came to detecting possible enemies. The suit would discover more than the eye could see, especially now. He watched his readouts on the virtual screen inside his helmet. So far, so good.

He thought of his father. Carl Hordvik had been so pleased to see his son assuming responsibility, after years of rebellion. And Carl was right; Evan was ready to assume responsibility. Evan was tired of watching the Moon people—his people—rot from the inside, from their decadence and privileges. His father probably didn’t see it that way, but Evan had seen the English in combat, he had seen the Janissaries, been a Janissary, and knew that no unit of Moon people could ever compete. Except, perhaps, the Luna Brigade.

He looked around. He couldn’t see their faces, but he knew them all by their demeanor, by the way they handled themselves. To his right was Laurie, an old friend of Sue’s from Charlestown, a replacement who’d joined them after they’d lost a man yesterday. To his left was Keisha, who had been in his squad before he was transferred to Strategos Command, a smart girl and fearless in battle. Behind them, Julian covered the rear. Back when Sue and Julian had been recruits, Julian had impressed Evan, as well as Sue, when the two of them had taken out a rocket launcher while the rest of the squad was pinned down by enemy fire.

Evan’s squad was only four-man strong, a typical Janissary solution when pressed for manpower. It was amazing that, with almost all of the Moon people’s military personnel at hand, the Janissaries were the ones that covered the most ground and took the toughest assignments. There were Janissaries spread out across the entire front, except for a small part far out in the East. There wasn’t much resistance left though. Most of the cities had been vaporized by nukes, and the few holdout enemy positions left were scattered out, far away from targets of high, strategic value. Even so, they had to be taken in order for the Covenant to assume total control of the North. The war had been won in just six hours, but the mop-up would take days or weeks.

There were dead and wounded northerners everywhere. Most of them were civilians, and once picked up, they were passed on to Moon people units for further processing. Evan noticed a family of four who sat huddled together by the road. One of the children looked like he was dead already, and the father was holding him tightly, while rocking back and forth, his face pale, mumbling quietly to himself, his eyes distant. The other child was burned badly on the left side of her face, and screamed relentlessly, while the weeping mother holding her could do nothing but sit and watch her child suffer. Evan felt sorry for them. These people had no stakes in the war. They had likely gone about their daily lives just yesterday, not knowing the horrors that awaited them once the Covenant unleashed its fury.

“Sir, should we...” Julian began, but Evan cut him off.

“Nothing we can do. Our job is to secure this road, and that’s it. Now keep moving. These people will be processed in due time.” He gritted his teeth, knowing that if they got too worked up from the things they saw, mood-stabilizing drugs would be entering their blood stream. It was a necessary protection, but Evan would rather delay the need for such mood suppressants for as long as possible. Of course, sooner or later they would need stimulants, and their suits would see to it that they got the proper dosages, but that was different. Stimulants were just part of being a Janissary, and a necessary aid that could mean the difference between life and death when pressed beyond their natural limits. Mood suppressants, though, had some nasty side effects, including reduced reaction speed and a long-term heightened risk of suicide.

“Stay sharp,” he said, taking a long step over a fallen body lying in the middle of the road. “There might be enemies hidden among the civilians. If in doubt, shoot first. I’m planning to bring every one of you back home once this is done. Now move it.”


Dave and Sue were well south of the Belt, the stretch of land separating the Corpus lands from the Covenant proper, making their way across the lush, green, rolling hills of the South. The Corpus lands were beautiful, as long as one didn’t think of what was going on there. Knowing tinged the beauty with bitterness. The Corpus Service was back breaking: work for hours upon hours in the fields or the mines or the factories, every day, until your seven years of Service were up, or, as was more often the case, until you were dead or broken. Knowing what they knew of the goings on there dampened their enjoyment of the scenery. And of course, there was the fact that Dave and Sue were wanted, dead or alive. Preferably dead, Sue mused. Their knowledge about Bliss and how the Covenant was using it to control the perception and memory of those in Service was like a noose around their necks. She shivered as she squinted toward the bright mid-day sunlight.

They had forced the pilot to land after crossing into Corpus territory and left him behind with the airship several days ago. Dave had torn out the motherboard of the propulsion management system, and ripped out parts of the comms system. The pilot would be found, eventually, but he would have no way to direct their pursuers until then.

So far, they had been able to walk by day and sleep by night, but Sue suspected that would soon change.

“Where is everyone? We’re deep inside Corpus territory now, and still nothing,” Dave said. Sue had been thinking the exact same thing. Sooner or later though, they would reach settled land, and Sue wasn´t sure she looked forward to it.

“A good thing,” Sue said. “But we need to decide on what to do once we find someone.” It was something they had talked about ever since leaving the pilot and the airship behind. What were they going to do, now that they had escaped Warden territory.

At first, Dave had wanted to go west, across the Rift, but Sue believed they would be caught that way. Though they agreed that they ultimately wanted to go east and back across the Belt into Coventry territory, they had continued south, deeper into Corpus territory, the last place their pursuers would think to look for them. But they were still careful. There had to be patrols looking for them, even here, and sooner or later, they would enter more populated areas.

“And what if they find us first?” Dave mumbled, while shaking their last, half-full water bottle. They needed to find a spot near fresh water soon, somewhere to refill their bottles and perhaps get some rest. Preferably somewhere close to a forest so that they had an escape route handy.

After a few more hours of walking, they found a safe place to stock up on water. They decided to keep going, though, since the spot had no good escape route. If they were discovered, they would have to cross several hundred meters of open ground. Far too risky.

“I’m sure we’ll find someone, somewhere,” Dave said. Sue didn’t answer. The question wasn’t whether or not they would find someone. It was what to do once they did.


There used to be bears in these woods, before the Fall. Hard to imagine now, Renee thought, as she looked around. She had never seen a bear, but she imagined they must have been awe-inspiring creatures. Like so many other types of large mammals, though, bears were a thing of the past, extinct for two centuries. She wondered what creatures would become extinct because of what was happening right now. She sighed, shaking it off as she focused her attention on those of her people still standing.

Colonel Renee Marsden watched the stragglers catch up to the main group, and fell into line again. Nobody said anything, but despair wafted from every soul, and they had all seen enough to fill their sleep with nightmares for the rest of their lives. Every one of them would have their demons to fight, if they even survived the trek. For some, it was seeing the mushroom clouds rising, lighting up the night sky as bright as day. For others, it was the loss of loved ones and coping with “survivor guilt.” Many would be burdened with the tragic images seared into their minds of people dying from radiation sickness, the skin literally falling from their bones, withering away in days or even hours. For almost everyone, it was leaving everything and everyone behind.

They had been walking since the first bombs had fallen, with very little rest. Renee had been given less than fifteen minutes’ warning, but she had been lucky. Far away from Hudson, on her way back from a weekend off duty, she had received a warning from one of her intelligence operatives inside the Covenant, enough time to get off the road to seek shelter. She had been close to a small town, and her frantic shouts had made the inhabitants realize something was terribly wrong, and they obeyed her orders without question. Also, her uniform might have helped. Now, almost five hundred of them were moving west, as quickly as they could, but far too slowly. So many had already fallen off, and she expected more to fall soon.

The town had been too small for the Covenant to target them with nukes, but even before they left town, they had seen the mushroom clouds of three impacts in the far distance, and knew they had to evacuate the area. Renee had known then that many would not make it far, but she had led them away, nevertheless, knowing that hunkering down in a shelter might save them from the initial fallout, but that the Covenant would not let any large group of them survive. And nukes weren’t the only nasty weapons to be deployed, now that the southerners had finally decided to go all in. They had various types of chemical weapons and even a few DNA-coded bio-weapons that targeted the French. She had seen one used once, probably as a test, and it killed eight in ten within a few days. Bio-weapons were unreliable though, since the French and the English shared so much of their DNA because of their largely common ancestry before the Fall. But chemical weapons were common, and she suspected this area would be overrun with Janissaries within a few hours.

She knew the Covenant would slaughter most of her people, unless she could move them away before the soldiers reached them. She looked around, and though it was a ragged group of refugees, they had managed to avoid the Janissaries so far. There would be a lot of mopping up for the Covenant to do in the south and east before they entered these deep woods. She hoped that would buy them time, because her people had no way to fight back; even against a smaller unit, they would be massacred.

As she moved into line with the others again, she thought about her brother, her eyes misting over before she managed to choke the thought back down. She had to be strong, even though she had lost as much as these people had.

Having never settled down with a family of her own, she had always relied on her older brother. Conrad, the medical doctor and the author of the family, had taught her everything about the world around her. He had kept up the family tradition of writing down everything that happened, studying their history and making it known among their people. He had kept the detailed accounts, all the way back to old Robert Marsden. Their forefather had brought his family from the South more than two centuries ago, saving them in the last chaotic days just before the Fall. He’d been a lawman of some sort, but the Fall changed him, and he became obsessed with making sure everyone remembered. He was known among everyone in the North as the author of the book A History of the Old World. Everyone had read it in school, and at the end of every year, Conrad, now the trustee of the Heritage Foundation, added to its appendix, filling in the year's main events.

And now he was gone, along with most of their people. He and his family had been gathered at home in Hudson. There was no way to reach Hudson now, and she didn’t expect anyone who might have miraculously survived the impacts to survive the next phase. But she couldn’t think about that now. She was responsible for this band of French refugees and had to concentrate on them. She missed her brother, though, and the thought of her nephew and niece... She had to force her mind to focus on the here and now.

The wind blew eastward, sparing them the worst of the fallout. Still, most had been exposed to some degree, and Renee could see that almost a hundred of them had radiation sickness of some sort. She expected half of them to become too weak to keep walking within the next twenty-four hours. They still had a long way to go, but the further away from Hudson and the more populated areas to the east they got, the better chances they would have of surviving altogether. She smiled without joy, knowing that these people might be the last ones.

The French had survived the Fall, but not the wrath of the Covenant.


Sue and Dave were walking east now. Their sole focus—and hope—was to get back over the Belt into the Covenant proper again, and find some place where there were good people, English people. Their people.

“Okay, so what do we do once we’re there?” Dave asked. He realized their plan was full of holes, but however much they had discussed it, it seemed impossible to form any sort of plan that didn’t revolve around escaping their pursuers. They agreed they would have to do something, but what? Sue seemed lost in thought, so Dave tried again.

“How do we get people to know what we know? You know, that it is all a lie? That the Covenant is killing innocent people?” Sue seemed to snap out of it, and shook her head.

“No idea,” she said. “We need to reach people first, people who will listen.”

“Right... And then what? Create an uprising? Revolt against our oppressors? Do you realize how naive that sounds? Shit...” Dave exhaled heavily. Sue looked at him and said nothing. The truth was, they both knew there was very little they could do, even if they had exposed the true nature of the Moon people. The English were used to being ruled, told what to do, and obediently serving their masters. Changing that would take more than the word of two teenage fugitives.

Still, though much remained to be thought out, at least they had some kind of plan. Once they did cross back over and find safe haven, they had no idea what they would do next, but at least that beat wandering aimlessly with a price on their heads.

“Get down,” Sue suddenly said, in what was too loud to be a whisper but too quiet to be a shout. Dave hit the ground, finding cover in a low brush. Sue pointed quietly, and Dave saw them.

A patrol. He shivered, as he saw for the first time the Corpus headhunters he’d heard so much about. They all had shaven heads, with characteristic tattoos snaking across their faces and scalps, piercings everywhere. One of them wore cut-off sleeves, and Dave noticed the patterned scar covering his muscled forearms. Sue and Dave lay completely still, and Dave found he was holding his breath. Were they hunting them or just patrolling the area? No way to tell, but he assumed the worst.

A dog barked. That was bad news, but not unexpected. They had heard that the headhunters bred dogs that would tear a man’s arm off; or worse, they supposedly had fast, mean creatures trained to hunt and kill escapees. If they had one, or more, of those...

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Sue clicking off the safety on her assault rifle. He did the same with his small sidearm he’d taken from the airship pilot back when they fled the Wardens.

He held his breath again. The patrol was passing them, and, so far, hadn’t spotted them.

One of the dogs began barking fiercely. Dave realized the patrol was downwind from them. Bad luck.

“Hold on, they may not...” he whispered, but cut off. Too late. One of the headhunters barked a sharp order, and the rest of them fanned out and began approaching, guns ready. Then it all happened so quickly.

Sue aimed and fired. One shot. Two shots. Three shots.

One of the headhunters screamed and clutched his stomach.

“Go, go!” Sue screamed.

They both got up, firing as they did, and then ran away, as quickly as they could.

Chapter 2


Evan and his Janissaries were watching as a squad from the Luna Brigade approached. An all-Moon people unit, the Luna Brigade was known for being tall and athletic, the best of the best. Normally stationed at their base on the Moon, they only came down to Earth for specific missions or as part of their selection and training. Evan didn’t think he’d ever seen as many of the Luna Brigade here on Earth as he had for the last forty-eight hours.

Evan’s squad had come across a group of civilians—kids, teens, adults, and a few elderly people. One of them acted as their leader, and Evan had questioned him briefly. When the man appeared to be holding something back, Evan had reported back to HQ and asked for further orders. HQ had told him to wait, and contain the civilians for further processing. They had been waiting for half an hour now.

“Meridian Boris Alexandersen,” the first soldier said upon approach, voice cold and devoid of emotion. Evan wondered if it was drug-induced or a natural disposition. Or a bit of both. He saluted briefly.

“Head Tacticus Evan Hordvik.” He noticed the meridian froze for a micro second before assuming his relaxed stance. Everyone knew of his family, although they might not know him.

“Okay, Head Tacticus, we’ll take it from here. You are to move out and continue searching for more enemy combatants.” Evan peered at him, but the shaded visor hid the meridian’s face, and all he had to go by were clues from his body language.

“Where are you taking them?” Evan blurted. The meridian hesitated for a split second before he answered.

“None of your business, Head Tacticus.”

Evan felt his anger rising before it was countered by one of the many drugs coursing through his bloodstream. But even as his mood leveled, and his pulse slowed, he decided he would have his question answered.

“Did you hear my name? It’s Hordvik. My father is Carl Hordvik, Strategos, a member of the Luna Council. So, I’ll ask you again, nicely. Where are you taking them?” The meridian seemed to acquiesce, figuring it wasn’t worth it, and shrugged.

“We’ve set up a containment center back a few clicks. The old ones will probably be processed on the spot there, while the rest will likely be processed after we have picked out the ones with some potential, for the Corpus.

“Processed?” Evan said, though he already knew the answer and was sickened by the grin on the meridian’s face as he chuckled mirthlessly.

“Mobile processing unit. Gas, it’s the most efficient. Takes almost two hundred an hour. But it’s hard work. It’s the digging you know, we can never get it done fast enough, and the excavator broke down on us yesterday. Even if we get them to dig first, it’s not enough. So the processing team needs to take breaks all the time. We’re having a new excavator sent up, though. That’ll speed things up a bit.” The meridian spoke as if he were describing a construction process, all technical and devoid of any form of empathy. Evan had known it was dirty, mopping up after a war like this one, where they had no use for the enemy survivors, and letting them all go free could be considered a potential security threat. Still, as the size and scope of this dawned upon Evan, he still had trouble imagining it all.

Two hundred people killed every hour, and that was just a single mobile processing unit. Except for those absorbed into the Corpus, the French would be gone within days, nothing left but a footnote in human history. And the only thing slowing the process was that they couldn’t dig the mass graves fast enough.

Evan said nothing as the soldiers from the Luna Brigade took the civilians away. For processing.


They were running from the Corpus headhunters. After emptying their weapons, they had thrown them away, and now had nothing with which to protect themselves, except speed and agility. Dave and Sue had kept their distance from their pursuers so far, but the headhunters were gaining on them.

“We have to split up,” Sue said. “There’s no way for both of us to get away together.” Dave said nothing, and Sue watched him sideways, expecting him to protest. But he kept quiet, probably because he had a hard enough time just keeping up. Even after his Warden training, Sue was still in better shape, and now she could see Dave was pushing himself to the limit. He would need a break soon. She looked back, but a hilltop hid their pursuers. Still, she knew they were there, still gaining ground. She heard dogs bark, and it spurred her to push on, never slowing to catch her breath.

“I’ll try to lead them up those hills to the right,” she said. “There should be a creek or something beyond the crest, where I can confuse the dogs.”

“No!” Dave’s response was hoarse, and it was obvious he was tiring even more quickly now. It still came out forcefully enough for her to jump a little. She decided to try persuasion.

“Dave, I can do this. Trust me,” she lied, knowing he’d be against the plan, but he was too winded to protest. She pressed on.

“It’s now or never, Dave. They will catch up with us within minutes unless we do something.”

Dave finally nodded, teeth gritted in pain and exhaustion. He really needed a break. Sue slowed to a fast walk, and Dave did the same. She hugged him, and he hugged back. They both knew the likelihood of both making it through this time was extremely slim.

“If one of us gets caught, the other needs to get away. No stupid rescue attempts, okay?” Sue said. Dave nodded, and cast a look in the direction of the headhunters, who were still behind the hill. They had to do it right now, or else there might not be another chance.

“One of us has to make it,” Dave said. There was nothing more to say.

Sue turned and ran off, aiming for the hills. She knew he would be heading in the opposite direction, where the hills gave way to sparse forest. He might be able to escape that way, especially when she led the headhunters away from him.

She was going to make sure Dave stood a chance.


Renee was watching a man die. She was told he’d been a lumberjack, and up until a few days ago, he’d been among the top three log-lifters in the region. Once a popular spectator sport in the North, she suspected log-lifting had become a thing of the past. Either way, this man would never lift another log again. Most of his skin had already peeled off, and what remained was a bloody mess; he was dehydrated and feverish. His name was Jean, and while he was still conscious, he’d told Renee his story. He’d been running errands in the city all day, and it had gotten late in the evening before he finally could head home. Then, just outside the city, the steam engine of his car broke down. Being a handy fellow, Jean had pulled over to fix it. He’d had to repair it several times in the past, but in the dark, it was taking more time than it should. A couple of hours later, he finished up, got back on the road, and headed home. He’d only driven for a few minutes when the first bombs went off. The car had stopped dead in its tracks again, all electronics fried by the EMP. Jean stepped out and turned back toward where he had just been, and found himself staring at a mushroom cloud. For a while, he just stood, transfixed by the terrifying sight. Whether it had been that exposure, or the fallout he’d been exposed to while running back home, Renee had no way of knowing. But once he got back, he’d been covered in gray slate. Someone had known what to do, and told him to shower and put on clean clothes. Then he’d taken his wife and joined the others who were fleeing west.

Jean was probably the one Renee had been most certain would die from exposure, only a few hours after leaving the small town. He had fought till the end though, and even yesterday, he had spoken a few words to his wife, telling her it would be okay. That they would get to safety, that he was feeling stronger. That as soon as he got better, they would start the family they had been talking about for so long. Now, his wife sat silently off to the side, too tired to cry, staring apathetically at nothing in particular. Renee glanced over at her. She looked very pale, and her hair was falling out. She had obviously been exposed, as well, and only time would tell if she would make it through.

Renee walked away from the dying man and his wife. She needed to rest. Only then could she be strong for everybody else. She knew they had a long way to go if they were to reach Buchanan. That was really the only place to go now. She wondered how they would be received. She had always pictured Buchanan as an ally, and she had even helped agents from Buchanan infiltrate the Covenant border on more than one occasion. She had even led a rescue mission to recover one of their agents who had been captured near the border. But when the Covenant attacked, Buchanan hadn’t come to their aid. They hadn’t lifted a finger. That was a hard pill to swallow for her. Renee understood that Buchanan couldn’t join them openly; that would have been suicide. The Covenant was too strong, even if Buchanan and the French had joined forces. But they could have helped rescue people, she thought. They could have done something, anything.

But they had been all alone, and they had been slaughtered.


Sue ran as hard as she could. She realized it would be almost impossible to outrun the dogs, and she knew the headhunters specialized in hunting down fugitives. Still, she had to make an effort, and besides, if she could draw them away from Dave, it would be worth it. The hills weren’t steep, but the elevation quickly made her too tired to keep up her pace. She stopped for a quick breather and realized the headhunters were gaining on her, and the dogs were even closer. She gritted her teeth and turned away. Then she began running again, still going upward.

She realized she had reached the top of the hill she was climbing, and once she began going down the other side, she picked up speed again. She looked around. To her right, she could see a cluster of low thorn brush and changed her course. If she could reach it before the headhunters, she might make the pursuit a bit more difficult. The dogs were still a problem, but she didn’t have a choice. The opposite direction was just an open field, and straight downhill would also lead her to an open field. She had no idea where to go next, but at least she had a goal, for now.

Her mouth was parched, and she could almost taste blood. Her muscles screamed for respite, and she felt her vision narrowing. She panted, but her lungs couldn’t draw enough air, her legs wouldn’t move quickly enough, and the world began to spin. She stumbled into the first brushes, scratched herself on the thorns, and banged her knee on a rock. There was a shot, and then another. Someone shouted, and the dogs were barking; so close now. She tried getting up, only to stumble over again. Something hit her face, and she realized she was lying face down. More shots rang out, and people close by were shouting, whooping. She couldn’t make out the words. Sue lifted her hand to touch her face, and the hand came away bloody. She heard dogs on all sides of her now, barking, growling.

“Lie still!” a voice shouted.

Someone approached and grabbed her right arm, and another grabbed her left, and they hoisted her up. Sue looked up and saw a man with the characteristic tattoos snaking across his face and shaven head standing in front of her. His face looked especially scary, with both cheeks pierced and small spikes protruding from where his eyebrows had once been. He grinned, and Sue saw his teeth were filed and sharpened. She shivered. The man hadn’t said a word so far. Now he stretched his hands out and let out a deep roar. Sue cringed and prepared for the worst. Then he began beating her, in a meticulous, routine manner. Again, again, and again.


Dave crouched low, trying to remain concealed in the sparse brush. He had no way to know if the headhunters were following him or Sue. He had run as quickly as he could until he reached this place where he’d hoped to hide until the headhunters passed. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, yet he had used the last of his strength. He hadn’t seen or heard them for a while, though. Not yet.

He looked around and, though he couldn’t see it, he could hear a stream some distance away and considered creeping that direction. The dogs were his worst enemy right now; they could probably sniff a man from far off, but if he could just reach the stream, he might throw them off his trail.

Darkness was still a few hours away, and he felt vulnerable where he lay. After going back and forth in his mind, assessing the risk, he decided to move.

He crept slowly, keeping his head down, trying to blend in with the foliage. He bruised his knee on a sharp stone and almost cried out, but he kept moving, face down, steadily closing in on the stream. He was thirsty, too, and his bottle was out of reach. It didn’t matter, though; it was almost empty, anyway. Never mind, he thought. He could drink when he reached the stream, as much as he’d like.

He heard the sharp crack of gunfire, one shot, and then another. He stopped, waiting for that shot that would hit him in the back. Someone shouted, and Dave realized it came from a distance. He craned his neck to get a better sense of its direction.

More shots were fired, now interspersed with shouts and whooping. Something was going on, and Dave had a sinking feeling. He raised his head just a little, enough to see. He immediately saw the closest headhunters, about five hundred meters away, their backs to him. They were looking at something.

Two men came into view, carrying Sue between them. She looked pretty banged up, bloody face and a bloody knee.

Dave reached for his sidearm, only to remember he’d already emptied it and thrown it away. He slowly pulled his hand back. The headhunters were heavily armed, and rushing in to the rescue would serve no purpose other than getting shot or captured.

He realized tears were streaking his dirt-caked cheeks, and he brushed them away.

He felt powerless.

He should do something, anything. But he remained frozen, watching as the headhunters pushed and shoved Sue around, and finally took her away.

Dave had never felt this helpless before in his life.

Chapter 3


“There is no resistance left, except a small pocket up in the far northeast. The Luna Brigade will take care of that as soon as they are done mopping up with the Janissaries in the areas further west,” the meridian said as his presentation of the current status in the North drew to a close.

“And Hudson?” Mark asked, not looking up from the notes on his infopad.

“Leveled, sir.” Mark looked up sharply, and the meridian continued. “Nothing left, even their underground shelters have been reduced to rubble. The same for all their underground cities, and above-ground towns and villages. We have razed everything.” Mark looked around, waiting for someone to ask the obvious. When nobody else did, he looked down at his notes again as he spoke.

“And the people?” he asked. The meridian changed slides on the big screen, and different colored bars appeared.

“The French are being processed as we speak,” he explained. “Most are dead by now, as you can see from the red bar. The purple bar, the small one to the right, represents those we decided to keep. Twenty thousand, so far. These will be sent off to the Corpus. Not Service of course, there’s no way we could handle so many having the opportunity to earn citizenship. No, just hard labor for them, as long as they are useful to us.”

“And when they are not?” Head Servant Lunde asked, smiling, clearly knowing the question was rhetorical.

“Processed,” the meridian said, matter-of-factly, without revealing any sort of emotion whatsoever. He went on.

“You all see the orange bar here. These are the ones we have yet to process. This takes time, as there are logistical challenges to such an operation. But we expect to be all but done in about a month. We also expect to be able to deliver another twenty thousand to the Corpus.”

The men and women in the room continued discussing the implications of having such a large contingent in the Corpus without the incentive of citizenship, the increased need for whips and headhunters, and a million other minutiae.

Mark bit his lip, his mind wandering to another time, before any of these people were born. He remembered a movie he watched once, lost years ago, of course, about a man saving thousands of people from extinction, back during a war long forgotten. Somehow this all seemed familiar, and more lately. He wanted to scream at them, to tell them it was wrong, that they had no right to sit here and discuss the logistics of mass murder, but he remained silent. There was nothing he could do for the French.

Had he made the wrong choice, all those years ago? What if he had chosen differently? Would this world be any different, or would it just be the same only with different villains? Was there a way to set things right again? He had, once, served justice to someone who deserved it at the time. Could he do it again? Would it make a difference?


The North was pacified now. Covenant territory now stretched from the Floral Sea in the South to the Arctic Ocean in the North. Evan looked around at the rubble, of what was left. In time, this land would be rebuilt. Actually, most of it might become a natural preserve. Preservation was important to the Moon people. If not for them, many species would have ceased to exist.

Before the Fall, Earth had already seen a mass extinction of plants and animals. And of course, the Fall itself killed off even more species. The people back then hadn’t cared enough about their world, but the Moon people knew how fragile it was. Evan remembered learning about it in school, that preservation and a kinship to nature was one of the foundations of who the Moon people were. They were nature’s stewards, more than anything.

Seeing the destruction left in the wake of war pained Evan to his soul, but he knew it was passing. To consider the actual results, you had to consider it in the scope of decades and centuries. Earth would recover, and Strategos Command had made careful calculations. Even radiation would subside, given time, and previous experience had proven that nature had a way of dealing with massive destruction that had surprised scientists again and again.

Evan sighed when he looked at the people wandering past, herded south by other units for processing. These people were less resilient than the planet they called home, especially in the face of the cruelty of statistics. He knew statistics were the reason most of these people would not be alive just a few days from now. Radiation sickness, exhaustion, starvation, or dehydration would claim a number of them, but the main reason would be statistics. The number of non-citizens in relation to citizens. Calculations of what number of people could be governed effectively at any given time. The number of non-citizens that could be allowed in any given location, before they constituted a threat instead of a resource. Numbers.

It was easier to look away and think how this landscape might look ten, twenty, a hundred years from now. The Moon people could be ruthless to the point of excess when it came to numbers, but they cared deeply for nature. No wonder, Evan thought, coming from the lifeless dust on the Moon. This world was meant to flourish and thrive, and to do that, the Moon people had to take charge. They could not allow this world to fall into the hands of people who thought the world was simply a resource to be harvested. The burden of stewardship had fallen upon the Moon people, and they had assumed it with fervor.

His infopad, strapped to his left arm, vibrated in its protective shell, and he looked at it. Orders.

“Read message,” he instructed. Inside his helmet, a soft female voice spoke.

“Head Tacticus Hordvik, orders from Strategos Petrovic, Strategos Command. You are to report immediately for airship pickup, for transport to Legacy Spaceport. You will receive new orders once you report in. End of message.” Evan cocked his head before he asked for the message to be repeated. Legacy Spaceport. It wasn’t completely unexpected, but it was a lot faster than he would have thought. He walked over to Keisha, who was his second in command, to let her know she was to take charge of the squad as of right now.


They were crossing the last plains before the Rift, and Renee was beginning to believe they might actually survive the long trek. A few more days and they would begin moving south, through the mountain pass and across the plains. This far north, they should be able to cross the Rift, where the slopes weren’t too steep. And more importantly, no Wardens would be guarding this area. At least, that was how it had been before the Covenant attacked in force. Now though, she had no way to know how the Covenant would act. In time, this area would likely become part of Warden territory, but for now, the Covenant should have only small patrols of Janissaries out here. Renee knew the Janissaries were busy, though, mopping up further east.

“What’s the status on the sick?” she asked the man standing beside her, a young doctor, one of the villagers she had helped save. He checked his notes and gave her the numbers.

“Two more dead in the last six hours. The number is dwindling, since the worst affected are already dead. About... twelve to fifteen are still worsening. Might see losses among them yet. And of course, some of those who look like they’re improving might have setbacks yet. It’s just too early to tell. But I do think the worst is over. Long-term effects, well that might get us all, who knows.” He lifted his shoulders in a kind of helpless shrug, and Renee nodded. Anything could happen to any of them.

Renee felt sadness, the kind that didn’t let go and tore at her every minute of every day. Seeing her people beaten like this broke her heart, and she feared for them, even if they might find safety once they crossed the Rift. But as strong as the sadness might be, one emotion overwhelmed her and made her want to scream out in frustration.

Anger. No, too weak. There was only one word for it. Hatred.

They had killed her people. Millions of them dead; every city and town and village gone.

She looked around and saw what was left. Broken refugees, with nothing left except what they were wearing. This was it. These people might be the last of the French. She dismissed the doctor.


It looked like the path forward was clear, but Dave took no chances. He’d been running, dodging the patrols for three days, and he was exhausted. He knew he could easily give himself away by being sloppy, and the chances of that happening were increasing with every hour. He’d been drinking water from streams, clean enough, he hoped, that he wouldn’t get sick. He’d had no food, except for a single energy bar he’d taken from the airship and forgotten about until he found it yesterday.

He crept forward, eyes darting left and right, his tired muscles tense and ready to leap at any sign of headhunters. He’d been moving east, always east, despite long detours in all directions. To the west lay the Rift. It would be too dangerous; Warden territory stretched south halfway down to the Floral Sea, and it would be swarming with Wardens, in addition to a sophisticated electronic surveillance system, detectors spaced throughout the woods. The borderlands south of the Warden territory would be tightly guarded by the Corpus, and there might even be Moon people units there. No, he had to find another way to safety, wherever that may lie. He figured his only option lay to the north. Sooner or later, he’d have to cross the Belt, back into the Covenant proper. He just had to get as far away from where Sue had been captured as possible.

He reached the stream he’d been aiming for and drank thirstily. His belly had stopped rumbling, and the ache from hunger had been replaced by an empty feeling of being drained of strength. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, but for now, he figured he had time. Time enough to make a somewhat intelligent decision of where to cross the Belt. The border would be impregnable in some locations, but he knew escapees from the Corpus had been seen in or near Charlestown. If he could make it there, maybe someone could be trusted to hide him. He had thought about this for a while, and he knew for certain he’d stay away from his family. He couldn’t bear the thought of putting them in harm’s way for his sake. But somebody would be able to help him. From there, he had no idea. All his plans and ideas ended in Charlestown.

He looked around. No sign of patrols anywhere. He’d managed to escape the headhunters that first day; now there were scattered patrols. Luckily, he’d seen them first and managed to evade them either by taking detours or by waiting it out until they were gone. He hadn’t seen a patrol since this morning, and they were far away. He’d begun to believe he might actually outsmart them. He grimaced. He had to be careful thinking himself to be safe, because he was far from it.

He wished he could do something for Sue. But all alone against the might of the Corpus, he was powerless. He fought down a lump in his throat, forced the feeling of betrayal away. There was nothing he could do for her now.


She was a prisoner. She was sitting in a room with no other people, waiting for something to happen. Yesterday, she had been dragged into camp by the headhunters. She was still bruised, and she had a black eye from being beaten. Still, she didn’t think she had suffered any permanent injuries, and she had been surprised that they hadn’t been tougher. The rumors concerning headhunters were that they were all ruthless killers and enjoyed torturing their prisoners. She feared what would come next.

The door opened, and a man walked in, limping. He had dark shadows around his eyes, a few missing teeth, and a tattoo snaking across a shaven skull. The face of someone who had lost all hope.

“Welcome to the Corpus,” he said.

She didn’t reply immediately, so he hobbled over and sat down next to her. He had a pained look on his face as he scooted closer.

“So, you’re new here, right? Didn’t know there was a selection recently. Washed out of the Janissaries, did you? Or the Students. Can’t be the Wardens. We never get those.” He smacked his lips, waiting for her to say something.

“What place is this?” Sue said, ignoring his questions. The man chuckled.

“Well, it’s the mines... Then there’s the factory. Bet you’re going to the mines, though. Factory’s for those who’ve been here a while. Long as you stay quiet and do your job, you’ll get there, though.” He began mumbling quietly to himself, and Sue strained to hear.

“What did you say?” she asked. The man started.

“Oh, sorry. I said it’s too late for me. Too long in the mines, about three years now. The fumes is killing me, see!” He opened his mouth with his fingers and showed her loose and missing teeth, discolored gums, and angry red spots on his tongue. Sue scooted back, and he chuckled.

“Don’t worry. It’s not contagious. It’s the fumes down in the mines. We all get like this after a while. And once it’s this bad, it gets worse fast. Some manage to get out and into the factories before it’s too late. The rest of us, well, most of us, well... We last for as long as we last.”

Sue didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what it was, but she could tell this was a dying man. He extended his hand.

“Bill, here. I’m from up near Bridgewater,” he said. “How about you?” Before Sue could answer, the door opened, and a bare-chested, muscular man with tattoos on his face and a whip in his hand entered. The sick man, Bill, pushed himself against the wall, fear apparent and his eyes downcast. Sue thought she should have averted her eyes, as well, but she couldn’t do it. This man wasn’t a headhunter, he was a Whip or a Whipper, whoever you asked. She had never met anyone who’d survived Corpus Service, so she didn’t know which was the correct term.

“Quiet,” he said in a booming voice.

“Susan Atlas, you’re coming with me.”

Sue got up, as quickly as her sore body would let her. She looked over at Bill and met his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but it was obvious he didn’t expect to see her again.

Chapter 4


Mark sat deep in thought, while the men and women around him spoke, discussing everything from the logistics of mass murder to plans for nature preservation and conservation. There were still a couple of enemy pockets left, but in a few days, they would have all been dealt with. Mark was so tired of these meetings, and he was beginning to feel the effects of having avoided treatment for far too long. But there was so much happening right now, and the only way to somehow better the outcome was for him to be present. He wondered how much of a difference it would make, though, in the end. Just hours ago, he had received word of the escapees, Susan Atlas and David Wagner, and how Susan had been captured. He had held such high hopes for them, especially Susan, whom he had believed could change the Covenant for the better. Now the Corpus had her. He expected First Janissary Ivanov would claim her, and when that happened, she would be as good as dead. And David? A good lad, but not someone able to make much of a difference; nothing like the young woman, who was a famous war hero, someone everyone in the Covenant had heard of.

At first, he had felt a great sadness for her. There would be no way to save her this time. And whatever he did, there was nothing Mark could do for young Wagner. He was probably next, all alone deep inside enemy territory.

Mark sighed. All hope now hung on young Hordvik. It could work, of course. Hordvik might be the man to bring reforms from within. How likely would that be? He had no way of knowing, of course, but Hordvik had helped him free Susan from Ivanov’s clutches once before, and he had said things that had led Mark to believe this could be the man to change the future of the Covenant. Of the world. But Evan Hordvik had been ordered to Luna, and Mark had no idea for how long, or the reason for his swift departure. He had watched the pride in Hordvik senior’s entire stance, and wondered if the older man had any idea that he’d been used when Sue was set free from the clutches of Ivanov.

How different a world it would have been if the Youth Revolution on the Moon hadn’t occurred prior to the Descent, when the Moon people returned to Earth. It was a part of the Moon people’s history that would have been too ugly for an outsider to fathom had he not been around to hear the daily reports, the sheer desperation and then the icy determination in the voice that one day replaced the one he’d been so used to. He could only imagine how it must have been. This genocide inflicted upon their own parents, their friends and families. He wondered what he would have done, had he been there. Would he have been alive long enough to prove his worth to the young mass murderers? Would they even have listened, had he not been thousands of kilometers away?

The revolution had made the Moon people into an abomination. It had taken their strongest attributes and made them into something ugly. Now, he often asked himself if the Covenant had, indeed, become something much worse than those who ruled before the Fall. Reforms from within seemed impossible, but perhaps young Hordvik could change that?

If there only was a way to save Sue. But she was being held captive, and as soon as the last enemy pockets were subdued, he expected First Janissary Ivanov to go south to claim her. The Whipmaster, head of the Corpus, would be all too happy to oblige, since the two were known to be close associates. No, if Mark was to have any hope of rescuing her, it would have to be before that time.

He looked up at all the people around him, familiar faces all of them. Men and women who, like himself, had exceeded all previously assumed limits of longevity. Rulers all, from families rooted deep in the blood-soaked dust of Luna. All considering themselves to be superior to the English, to the Earthbound.

He looked at them, and an idea began to form in the back of his mind.

A smile crept forth in the corner of his mouth. As hopeless as the situation seemed, Mark knew that there would never be a better time than right now. He excused himself and walked briskly out of the room, knowing that he might be too late already. If he wasn’t, this might be his last chance.


A child came running up to her, and Renee saw the terror in her eyes, and the tears welling up, while the kid fought to hold it back.

“Please, miss, can you help? My mother is very sick. Please, please,” the child said. She couldn’t have been more than six, and Renee had to struggle to hold despair at bay.

“What’s your name?” she said, squatting while she dreaded what she would have to tell the girl.

“It’s Caroline...”

“Okay, Caroline, I’m so, so sorry. There’s nothing I can do. All we can do is hope she gets through the worst of it. I bet your mama’s strong, I bet she’s fighting hard,” she said. Too harsh, she realized, but there were so many, and with radiation sickness, there was nothing she could do. The poor doctor did what he could, but he didn’t have the supplies that could have helped some of them. For most though, it was only a question of how bad their exposure had been. If it was bad enough, it was only a question of time.

“No, no, miss, you don’t understand. It isn’t the radio... radiation sickness. She’s a diabetic, and she needs insulin.”

“Have you seen the doctor?”

The girl shook her head.

“I couldn’t find him,” she said.

Renee thought for a second. Then she took Caroline’s hand and led her through the camp. Soon, they reached a makeshift lean-to, and Renee bent down to see inside. Sure enough, there he was.

“Doctor!” she said. “Doctor, you must come, now.”

The doctor stirred, and looked up to her, dark rings under bloodshot eyes, and red lines across the side of his face, where he had lain. He looked at his watch.

“Look, Colonel, I really need to sleep. I almost killed a patient an hour ago. I’ve been running on fumes for two days now, and if I don’t get some sleep...” He trailed off as the girl stuck her head forward.

“What?” he said.

“It’s my mama, she’s really sick,” she said. The doctor got a pained look on his face.

“I’m so, so sorry... But...”

“It’s diabetes,” the girl said, interrupting his apologies.

“She needs insulin, or she will die. She didn’t have time to bring any when we fled, and now she’s barely awake.” Renee thought Caroline was impressive, the way she explained it so quickly and accurately to the doctor.

“Insulin?” the doctor said, and began rummaging around.

“Well, I’ll be... There it is.” He got his bag and crawled out from his shelter.

“Which way?” he said. Caroline pointed them in the right direction, and they all ran together. Soon they reached a large tree, where an overhanging branch offered a modicum of shelter. A woman lay next to the trunk, half-dozing. Renee knew enough about diabetes to recognize that if this woman didn’t get her insulin, she would fall into a coma, and more than likely die. Type one was the nastier one, always had been.

The doctor took out a small vial and prepared a syringe. There had been more sophisticated methods of delivering the life-sustaining medicine, but under these conditions, this was the only thing available. The doctor gave Caroline’s mother the shot and sat down, leaning his back to the trunk. He looked up at Renee and Caroline, who stood side by side, watching.

“You know...” he said, addressing Renee. “So many have died from radiation sickness, and still more will. I have no iodine, never did have much, anyway. Didn’t have much use for it back home. What I did have, though, were a lot of diabetic patients.” He turned toward the girl and smiled.

“So I have enough insulin in my bag to last your mother for a long, long time.” Renee smiled, as well, when she saw the look of relief on Caroline’s face. Her mother would be fine.

“And once we get to Buchanan, that’s not going to be a problem, anymore,” she said. The girl leapt forward and hugged the doctor, and he seemed to be taken by surprise. Renee laughed then.

She sat down to keep the girl company while they waited for her mother to wake up. Caroline snuggled into her lap, and together they sat, waiting. She looked over at the doctor, about to tell him he could go get some sleep, when she realized the doctor had already fallen asleep. She smiled to herself. With so much death and dying, they had saved a life today. And it felt good.


Sue stared at the dead body of the man she had only known for a few hours as Bill. He’d been friendly enough the one time they had spoken, and she had appreciated it at the time. That was this morning. Now he lay on his bunk, skin pale, eyes closed, and lying on his side, as if he were sleeping. She had already checked his pulse twice. Each time, the result was the same. He had talked about the fumes, the poisonous gases down in the mines, and now, after having spent a day down there herself, she believed that in the end, it had killed him.

It was worse than she had imagined, but for now, she chose to focus on Bill. Somebody had to. On every bunk and even on the floor, there were people. Some were eating, others were trying to get some sleep, and others again were talking in hushed voices so they wouldn’t get noticed by the guards. Nobody paid any attention to the dead man, except Sue. She walked over to the door and felt the handle. It was locked, of course.

“Hey,” she said. Nothing happened.

“Hey,” she repeated, louder this time.

The door opened, and one of the Whips entered. His eyes met hers, and she averted them quickly.

“This better be important,” he said in a coarse voice. She dared a quick glance up before she lowered her head again. The Whip was light skinned, with blue eyes, and younger than the others she had seen so far.

“Somebody died,” she said, pointing at Bill’s bunk. The Whip looked at where she was pointing. His eyes narrowed. Sue realized others were staring at her. Some of them looked fearful, while others shook their heads or spat. She wondered why they suddenly took an interest.

“You sure about that?” the Whip said.

“Yes, sir. I checked him twice.”

The Whip nodded. Another Whip entered and stood next to the first. This one had darker skin and grinned at her. She made sure her head was appropriately lowered. The first Whip turned toward her before he spoke.

“That so,” he said, “Tell me, again what exactly does that have to do with me?”

The surprise made Sue look up. They really don’t care, she thought. They don’t care at all.

She doubled over from the first kick to her stomach, and slumped to the floor. She lost count of the rest.


Evan was wearing his finest formals as he approached the doors to his father’s office in Strategos Command. He’d returned to Legacy just an hour before and hadn’t had time to take a shower yet, but he’d changed from the more casual work uniform in order to blend in, as well as command a certain respect here at Strategos Command. It seemed to work, because the guards outside the doors saluted him briskly before opening them. He returned the gesture in a dismissive manner and walked straight through.

“Ah, I’m glad you made it,” Carl Hordvik said, a warmth in his voice Evan hadn’t heard for years.

“Well, I was to report directly to the spaceport, but I figured I had time to stop by here first,” Evan said. They shook hands, and then his father embraced him. Nobody spoke until Carl loosened his grip on him and gestured for him to sit down.

“I have the reports from the campaign,” the older man said. His normally so stern face softened.

“You seem to have made a name for yourself up there. I’m proud of you, son. It seems you have stepped up, finally taken some responsibility. And not just for yourself, I hear.” Evan looked up and saw his eyes narrowing.

“I know what you did, saving that girl. Ah, well.... Love can make men do some really stupid things. Just don’t let me find out you’ve done something like that again. I covered for you once; I will not do it again.” Evan had trouble finding the words. His father had found out that he had helped Sue. And the man believed it was the action of a love-sick boy! Let him think so; the alternative is far more dangerous, he thought to himself. Luckily, his father hadn’t discovered Mark Novak’s role in it, which would be catastrophic. Hordvik senior pushed an envelope across the desk and motioned for Evan to open it, dismissing further conversation about Sue. Evan ripped the envelope open and took out a short letter. New distinctions were pinned to the letter, and he laid all of the contents on the desk.

“Seems you’ve earned a promotion,” his father said. “Sub Meridian. Looks like you’re going to follow in your father’s footsteps after all.” Neither of them mentioned his older brother, Victor, who had always been the one meant to inherit their father’s legacy, to one day become head of the family. Victor had died serving with the Luna Brigade, on a top-secret assignment, and very few details had been released.

His father picked up the letter and nodded thoughtfully. “So, you’re going to Luna again. That can only mean one thing, don’t you think?”

Evan nodded. It was obvious that his next assignment would be the Luna Brigade, and it seemed they wanted to train him for officer duty in this most elite unit of the Covenant. He looked at his father, who now wore a broad smile.

“I knew you had it in you, son. And it seems you’ve grown up for real this time.”

Evan saw the pride in his father’s eyes, and knew he’d made his old man happy, for once, but he didn’t say anything. He had his own plans. Everybody thought they knew him; everyone believed they knew what he wanted and had their own expectations for him. But nobody controlled Evan. Nobody. He changed the subject.

“Well, with the French subdued, what’s next?” he said. He knew where his father stood, but he had no way to know the stance of everyone on Strategos Command, let alone the Luna Council. Carl chuckled softly.

“Fishing for intel, son? Let me tell you this. The Covenant has never been this powerful, and freed from the northern threat, it’s only a matter of time before we expand west, to take what is ours by right,” the older man said, and Evan nodded. His father had always been a hawk, a proponent of the expansionists, or birthright faction, as they liked to call themselves. The conservatives on the other hand, believed expansionism in general was a dangerous path, that the Moon people were too few to rule over much more territory than they already held. In fact, it was almost a miracle they had finally given in to the expansionists on the northern issue. Evan knew that Head Servant Lunde, generally considered a conservative, had always wanted to go north, to relieve the threat from the French so they could focus on the threat from Buchanan.

Evan saw that as a sign of change; that the balance of power was shifting. Therein lay opportunity, and Evan had long ago resolved himself to bring change. But if he got his way, it would be so much bigger than anything those goons on Strategos Command could fathom.

He was so lost in thought, his father stopped talking.

“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind,” he said. His father chuckled and pointed at the globe, an old antique from before the Fall, salvaged from a vault somewhere and given to him on his hundredth birthday.

“Look at it,” he said, and Evan did, noticing the difference in appearance compared to today’s maps.

“The borders are all ancient, every nation long gone. But there is one thing...” Carl said, and put a finger on a spot in the northern hemisphere. Evan knew this was where Legacy lay today.

“This is our nation,” his father said, before pushing the globe, making it rotate, “and the rest of the world are our enemies.”

“Not many of them, though,” Evan replied. His father nodded.

“You’re right. Most of the land is uninhabited or inhabited by small tribes and settlements that have never posed a threat to us. Nevertheless, we have been locked into this continent, held in check by a northern enemy and the Rift, which has imposed a natural barrier for the last two centuries. And Buchanan has always been the bigger threat, with their nukes trained on us, ready to launch, should we make a move. Now though, we have broken the stalemate, but nobody expects Buchanan to do anything as long as they are not under direct threat from us.”

Evan nodded and found himself considering the possible outcomes of such an exchange.

“Now that we have removed the northern threat, we can begin preparing for the real fight.”

“Buchanan,” Evan whispered. His father nodded.

“It may take a decade, it may take ten. But sooner or later, we will act. It is inevitable. And then, we will take what is ours by birthright.”

“There’s still the rest of the world...” Evan said, making his father snort contemptuously.

“You mean the tribes? Well, there are the nations across the sea of course, but they are weak, and if we take out Buchanan, the rest of the world will be ours no less than a decade later, at most. Take out Buchanan, and the rest of the dominoes will fall, one by one, until we control them all.” Neither of the men spoke for a moment. Evan’s father sat down and tapped a finger on Evan’s letter.

“The Luna Council has been watching you, Evan. No wonder, being a Hordvik, but they seem to think you have the makings of high command, given time and the right kind of experience. That’s why they think it’s about time for you to command Moon people, not just our English subjects. The Janissaries are tough, but they are still just English, inferiors. The real test will be commanding your own people, preferably one of the elite units.” Carl reached out and took his hand. His eyes were ice blue and never blinked as he stared into Evan’s.

“Son, you have always known where I stand. I cannot say the same about you. But I do have high hopes for you, and I expect great things of you in the future. Don’t let me down.”

Evan swallowed, but inside, he boiled. You have no idea he thought, while he smiled at his old man.


Two days later, Dave finally reached the Belt. Crossing it would be difficult, but not impossible. He began assessing what he was up against. Manned and unmanned guard towers were spread out on this side, with floodlights scanning the area in random patterns, machine guns could pepper a large area with their deadly hails, and snipers could take out a person from 2000 meters.

Then there were three layers of fencing. The first one was topped with barbed wire. He could have cut through the chain-link, but he had nothing to cut with, so he had to go over the top. He would have to sacrifice his jacket, draping it across the barbed wire to offer himself at least some protection while climbing over it. It would probably help avoid the worst cuts, but he knew he wouldn’t escape totally unscathed. But so be it. The real danger here would be being seen, so he had to move quickly. Then there was a stretch of 200 meters of open ground, and Dave immediately knew this area would be scattered with mines. He’d seen it before, inside Warden territory. There would be nowhere to hide, and moving through this would be extremely difficult. The second fence was electrified, and touching it would fry him in an instant. After that came the Kill Zone; automatic machine guns that would be shooting at anything that moved. And from what Dave could tell, this area looked mined, as well. This would be the most difficult obstacle to cross, and he had no idea how to do it. And if, by some miracle, he survived all this, he would have to cross another electrified fence and hope that nobody had spotted him and stood waiting to pick him up as soon as he was through.

On the far side of the last fence, there were no Corpus headhunters, but there would be plenty of police officers, and guarding the Belt was their primary task. There were a few English among the officers, a lucrative job for the right person, Dave thought. Not really Service, so there was no way these people would have the opportunity to earn their citizenship, but it afforded them privileges, nevertheless, such as being allowed to live for another ten years. Euthanasia at sixty instead of fifty, like the rest of them. Dave figured he couldn't trust them; he’d heard some of them were even more ruthless than the headhunters.

He scanned the fence. There would have to be some kind of weakness, somewhere. After all, he’d heard of Corpus escapees who had reached as far as Charlestown, which meant they had made it past the Belt. He began searching for that weakness.

Chapter 5


Sue focused on her own boots right in front of her, while stumbling along, trying not to fall behind. She’d spent the last twelve hours deep within the mines, doing hard non-skilled tasks, such as pushing carts, lifting stone, and clearing rubble.

It was hard physical labor, and she had only been doing it for a few days. The rations were not enough to sustain her; she had already lost weight. She had noticed the foul smells inside the mine, and knew the air inside was poisonous, but there was nothing she could do about it.

They were walking back to the compound after another shift. Once they got back, they would get a simple meal and be allowed to wash themselves before they crashed. And after six hours, which usually meant four after walking and eating and washing, they would march right back again for another twelve-hour shift.

A man in front of her tripped and fell. He immediately tried to get up, but he seemed too exhausted to do it on his own. Sue extended her arm to help him up before he got into trouble. The whip lashed across her hand, and the pain made her retract it. A gash across her palm oozed blood, and she tried not to cry out from the pain.

“Back off,” the Whip sneered. A tall dark man with a tattoo depicting a tiger, an extinct beast from before the Fall, walked over and stood above the fallen man.

“Get up,” he hissed. Another Whip approached, grinning as he stood next to the first. Sue had a hard time fathoming these had been Corpus initiates once. It was said the Whips were the strongest, those who survived their seven years and chose to continue their Service voluntarily. She couldn’t imagine what would make someone do that. And she didn’t understand how they could be so cruel to these people, especially after having been in their shoes before.

“You have one chance and one chance only. Now get up,” the first Whip repeated. The man tried pushing himself up again, but failed, and Sue felt an urge to help. She stayed back though. The grinning Whip looked at the other and nodded. Then he kicked the fallen man hard in the ribs. Sue closed her eyes as both Whips began kicking the poor man. At first, he screamed, but after just a few kicks to the face and head, he fell quiet. Sue opened her eyes again. The grinning Whip caught her eye as he looked back, making sure everyone was watching. Then he planted his boot hard on the fallen man’s head. Sue heard a sickly cracking sound. Someone moaned silently.

“All right, let’s move on. You have a new shift in five and a half hours. Don’t wanna waste your time off,” the tiger-tattooed Whip said. The column began moving again, leaving the dead body behind. Sue felt the bile in her throat as she looked one last time at what had been a young man from a town just like hers. A year or two ago, he’d been in school, just like she’d been. The difference was that he had lost the lottery on Selection day. The Corpus, the truest of all Services, the giving of one’s body and soul to State.


Dave had finally found what he’d been looking for. He had spent the last couple of days observing the shifting of guards, searching for a way through the Belt, sneaking up to the first fence more than once to check out what appeared to be a weak spot, only to crawl back disappointed. He’d almost been discovered several times, but he thought he finally had a good understanding of the guards’ movements. And he had found the weak spot, the place he might be able to cross.

A stream cut through the Belt, running under the fences from north to south. If it was deep enough, he would be able to crawl under the fences, and if he could keep below the bank, he should be able to avoid the auto guns, which was the section that scared him the most. Now he sat watching the darkening skies, waiting for nightfall. He figured that even though there were floodlights everywhere, nighttime would be the best time to cross. It wasn’t just the darkness. He knew that the guards, six hours into their shift, would be least alert just before sunrise. If he timed it right, he’d be going through at just the right time. And if he moved efficiently, he’d make it through to the far side before the sun came up.

A drop fell on his forehead, startling him. He looked up and felt another drop on his cheek. He smiled to himself and looked at his watch. It was almost time.

Ten minutes later, the rain was pouring down, and the temperature was dropping quickly. Dave crept out from his hiding spot, toward the stream. The floodlights were moving, but not reaching this far from the fence. Still, he kept his head down, knowing that the guards would have night-vision equipment of one kind or another. If they saw him at this point, he would almost certainly get caught, so stealth was imperative.

He reached the stream and crawled into the water. It was cold. He forced himself to sink down as far as he could and discovered it was deeper than it looked. That was a good thing, since he would be able to fully submerge to go under the fence. He began moving toward it, slowly, taking his time, making sure he was quiet. At this hour, every sound seemed louder than in the daytime.

His mood fell when he reached the fence and discovered that it went deep beneath the surface, which meant there was no way to go underneath. He knew the next fences would be different, since they were electrified, so they couldn’t touch the stream, but for now, he knew he had to climb, and it terrified him. He looked around, counting the seconds, watching the pattern of the floodlights, listening intently only to realize the rain would drown out all sounds. One less thing to worry about. He took off his soaked jacket and began climbing. He ascended as quickly as he could, and once he reached the barbed wire on top, he draped his jacket across, hoping it would be enough. Then he climbed up and slung his leg across, immediately cutting the inside of his thigh. He stopped for a second and looked. There was a long tear in his pants, and blood came seeping through. No way to tell how deep the cut was, but it hurt like hell. He moved as carefully as he could, bringing his body and then his other leg across. He avoided more cuts, but the one he had was bleeding pretty badly. He cursed silently as he climbed down the other side of the fence. Now he had to cross the minefield. He knew something about this, having learned how to spot mines in Warden training, but he also knew he could never be sure, and that he could be blown to pieces any second. He took one hesitant step forward, then another. He had to be quick about it, so there was no time to prod properly. All he could do was look for anomalies on the ground such as uneven grass growth, loose dirt, tiny elevations. And whatever he did, he had to keep moving.

Dave took another step, and just as he was about to set his foot down again, he saw the tufts of grass growing in opposite directions, as if the grass had been cut, lifted, and then replaced. He carefully found another spot to place his foot and exhaled heavily. That was close.

Halfway through the minefield, he heard a whining noise above the rain. He crouched down, hiding his face and hands as the noise came closer. An airship. All he could do was sit still, hoping that he wouldn’t be noticed. He felt the pain in his thigh, and an almost all-consuming compulsion to touch the wound, like an itch he just had to scratch. He resisted, trying to focus on the rain running down his neck instead. As quickly as it had come, the airship was gone again, and Dave looked around. The stream ran along just a few steps to his right, and it was tempting to jump in, since it provided good cover and would take him straight to the next fence. But he knew there could be mines in the stream, as well, and he’d have no way to see those before they blew up. No, staying out of the stream, at least until he reached the fence, would be the better option.

He kept moving, as quickly as he dared, spotting the irregularities that indicated mines, knowing that there was no way he’d be able to spot them all. He had to be very lucky to survive this.


Renee stood looking at the steep drop before her. They had just finished traversing the last slope of the last hill, and then the ground just fell away. There, at least a hundred meters down, was the Rift. She turned and looked at her people. They were, as far as she knew, the last of them. And once they crossed the Rift, they would be safe, at last.

The Covenant had destroyed their homeland, but they were alive. She felt something simmering, as it had for weeks. Thoughts of vengeance, of taking the fight back to them, thoughts of destroying the Covenant, nuking their cities and leading the English in rebellion. Ridiculous thoughts, of course. And dangerous, since she should be focusing on her people now, caring for the survivors, bringing them all back to safety, and then helping them resettle, far from the cruelty and ruthlessness of the Moon people. Besides, the English were weak, people born into servitude, meek slaves who only wanted to please their masters. They would never rise up in revolt, never resist. With the French neutralized, only Buchanan remained to counter the Covenant.

It looked like a clear path across, once they got down, but she wondered what kind of hidden currents or obstacles could be waiting for them. First, though, they had to find a way to descend the cliff.

Young Claes, a teenager who had lost both his parents and his little sister to radiation sickness, stepped up to her.

“I’ll go first,” he said. Renee gave him a quick nod, and he jogged off toward the cliff. He hadn’t taken more than ten steps before he fell. A second later, several shots fired in rapid succession rang out. Renee dove to the ground. They were under attack, and from the time it took the sound to reach them, she estimated the attackers must be about a kilometer away. She franticly scanned the landscape, while keeping her head down as low as she could. How many were there? Where had the shots come from? A pregnant woman to her right fell, her upper torso exploding with red mist, and another, a man she knew had run the local news site, clutched his stomach as he fell. Again, the shots were delayed, and once they came, she heard it was a machine gun. Damn, that thing is accurate, she thought.

“Keep your heads down!” she shouted, while searching frantically for the attackers. She still didn’t have a visual of them. A few of her people had weapons, and they had started firing at every bush and tree around. That should draw some fire, enough for me to see where they’re positioned, she thought, and just then, she saw the muzzle flares in the distance. Shots landed close to where the brave men were shooting from, and one of them cursed something. But it didn’t sound like he’d been hit.

She had no idea what to do now. None of the weapons they had were a match for the attackers, so there was no way to put up an effective defense. The only thing she could think of was to try drawing the attackers closer by moving toward the Rift. That way, the French stood a better chance.

Renee was just about to give the order when shots rang out from yet another direction. It took her a moment to understand what was happening, but then she realized the shots were aimed not at them, but at their attackers. She saw a group of soldiers in khaki uniforms run toward the enemy position, while firing rifles, rockets, and some kind of beams. Within a minute, the shooting stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. There was smoke coming from where their attackers had been, and she noticed flames licking up along some of the larger brushes and trees.

After a while, a group of eight appeared, walking leisurely toward them. She noticed others, still standing in the distance, with raised guns pointed at her group, prepared for anything. There were men and women among the soldiers, and they moved in a fluid way, handling their weapons casually but competently. These were professionals; that much she could tell just by looking at them. And as they came closer, she saw their khaki combat suits were actually full body armor, only less bulky than that of Covenant soldiers, with small backpacks and helmets that didn’t cover their faces. In fact they looked very different from anything the Covenant had, and she smiled, realizing who had come to their aid.

The leader, a man of perhaps forty, took off his helmet as he stopped about ten meters away. The others fanned out, some checking their weapons, while others stood as if they expected another attack, weapons pointed outward in all directions. The leader nodded casually at Renee. She noticed he had dark brown eyes and a three-day beard. He had dark rings around his eyes and deep creases gave him a face that reminded her of Conrad, her late brother.

“Captain Lee, Buchanan Rangers,” he said, “Let’s get you folks out of here.”


Dave stepped over the loose dirt that indicated what he hoped was the last mine. He let out a deep breath and crouched in front of the humming fence. If he touched it, he would receive thousands of volts through his body, frying him on the spot. He’d be dead just as certainly as if he had stepped on one of the mines. He looked around. No sign of the guards so far. He crept carefully along the fence toward the stream.

When Dave entered the water, he quickly determined the stream was deep enough for him to go beneath the fence. He hoped it would be just as deep on the other side, too, because he needed to remain unnoticed by the motion detectors there. He took a deep breath and dove under the surface, then used his hands to push himself along the bottom. It was too dark to see anything, so he didn’t surface until he was absolutely certain he had passed the fence.

He brought his nose up to breathe, but he didn’t dare go any higher. This was the Kill Zone, where any movement would draw fire from the automatic machine guns. He had gambled that if he managed to stay in the water and keep below ground level, the motion detectors wouldn’t notice him. And so far, so good. He felt a vague throbbing in his thigh and knew he would need medical attention when—if—he made it through. For now though, he just grimaced and kept moving. He half swam, half pushed himself along the bank. It wasn’t just the motion detectors; every few minutes, the floodlights of the guard towers lit up the area where he lay. Whenever he saw the lights getting closer, he would dive and wait until the light passed before he surfaced again. The water was cold and dirty, and when he breathed, he could smell the rancid smell of something rotting nearby.

He was less than ten meters from the final fence when he felt the stream getting shallower. He stopped, cursing silently. This was the worst thing that could have happened. It meant he would have to get out of the stream and cross the final meters of the Kill Zone on land. He cursed again as he fought despair. There was no way he could go undetected from this point forward. He flexed the muscles of his injured thigh and knew running would be problematic. He could use the leg, but he knew he’d not be able to run his fastest.

This is it, he thought, before he leaped up, forcing himself forward. Within seconds, muzzles flashed in a nearby tower, and a hail of bullets slammed into the ground where he had exited the stream. Dave kept moving, zigzagging toward the fence. He hoped the stream would deepen again near the fence, so he could go under this one, as well. He had no other way to cross the last, high-voltage fence.

Before he could complete the thought, he felt more than he heard the click of the mine underneath his foot. The explosion threw him up in the air, and the last thing he felt was the cold water as it enveloped him.

Chapter 6


Sue had the sinking feeling that she was losing it, that nothing of what was happening to her was real. Of course, it could be just the fact that she’d had far too little food and was literally starving. Or, and this scared her the most, that she was being affected by the toxic fumes down in the mines.

But she knew she had to be dreaming. The world around her was spinning, and it felt like she was just along for the ride. Why couldn’t she save herself, or anyone around her? How had she become so weak? She, who had been such a strong young woman on her way to Service with the Janissaries, to glory, to earning her citizenship.

In the end, all she had earned was an end, a final destination from which nobody returned. An end station where you either perished or transformed into a monster. She saw the Whipmaster standing in front of her, smiling. “You have earned this,” he said softly, branding her with the mark of a Whip, turning her into one of the monsters who would chastise and subdue those who came after her.

Sue awoke with a silent scream on her lips. A dream. One of the many possible outcomes, although not the most likely. She wiped the sweat from her face, and her stomach growled. The hunger was real, as was the slow but steady deterioration of her body.

“Calm yourself and pay attention, maggot,” the Whip said, standing in the doorway, demanding her attention. She looked around. There were almost a hundred bunks surrounding her, but they were all empty. She was the only one who’d been left sleeping. Everyone else was gone. They must have woken them before.

“You’re leaving. Now get in the shower and clean yourself up. You’re a mess.”

Sue didn’t hesitate. She went to the bathroom, quickly, before she took a shower. The water felt good, but she kept scrubbing, rinsing the stink off of her body. She wondered if she’d ever feel clean again.

“Hurry up, we don’t have all day,” the Whip shouted. Sue shut off the water and dried off. The Whip had left clean clothes for her, and she dressed. The blue slacks and shirt looked new, and it was a better quality fabric than the usual Corpus clothing. She followed the Whip outside where he took hold of her arm and shoved her forward, into the harsh sunlight.

A soldier, a meridian from the distinctions, Moon blood, obviously, stood waiting by a steam car. The female driver looked English, but it was hard to tell. The armed soldier next to her, though, was Moon blood through and through, with icy blue eyes and ash blond, uncovered hair.

“I have orders to bring you along, Miss Atlas,” the officer said, voice devoid of emotion. Sue took a step forward, and the Whip released his grip on her. She took another look at the officer. He wore his uniform in a relaxed but stylish manner, two buttons loose, showing a little more chest than would be appropriate for most soldiers. And he wore a silver chain with a small crescent pendant around his neck. No Janissary would ever have been seen wearing jewelry, and most Moon people in the military would refrain, as well, although they were allowed to. What gave him away, though, were the tiny diamond studs decorating his ears. She met his eyes, and he grinned.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“I don’t know you, personally, sir. But I do think I know your unit,” she said. He gestured for her to get in the car, and they drove off. Sue didn’t look back. She hoped she would never see the Corpus again, ever.

“The Luna Brigade has been ordered to take you away. It came directly from Counselor Novak. You are coming with us, Miss Atlas.”


The world was spinning, but Dave pushed through. The haze covering his surroundings lifted, and he began to make sense of where he was and what he was doing there. It was early morning, and mist covered the ground. He lay on the bank of a small stream and shivered in the cold. He lifted his throbbing head and looked at the fence a hundred meters off. The Belt. He had crossed it.

He groaned as the pain returned. His right leg was torn to pieces, of that much he was certain. He looked down and saw a mass of blood, shreds of fabric, and something he couldn’t identify. He didn´t dare take his boot off to check, though, not now. But it wasn’t his leg that was causing most of the pain. The leg felt just like his head did, a throbbing, dull ache. It was the skin on his thighs near his groin and most of his upper body that was more painful. He wasn’t sure whether it was from the mine fragments or the barbed wire, but either way, his body was covered in cuts, and he was bleeding from several of them.

He turned his head and saw the outline of a city in the distance.

“Charlestown,” he whispered. He could hear voices and remembered that he’d have to be careful. He didn’t have to worry about Corpus headhunters, but the officers on this side could be just as bad. He had to get away.

He managed to roll over into a squat, ensuring he put most of his weight on his left leg, and pushed himself up. He tried to put some weight on his right leg. It held for a second or two before it gave way. It was still not the worst of the pain, but there was no way he’d be able to walk all the way to Charlestown. But he’d crawl if he had to.

Dave gritted his teeth and mustered whatever willpower he had left, and took a step with his good leg. He then inched his right foot forward and put just enough weight on it to take a quick stride with his left. So this was how it was going to be. He did it again. And again. He repeated this for as long as he could, and then he crawled for a few minutes.

He looked back and saw that he had made some progress. His head felt light, and he was thirsty as hell. But he ignored it as he got up once again. He looked at the city as if it was the only thing of importance in this world. Whatever it took, he would get there.


The airfield was just a fifteen-minute drive away, and neither Sue nor her escort said anything as they drove through fields where Corpus fieldworkers were harvesting, line upon line of people, the Whips overseeing their work. Sue shuddered and looked away. She noticed the driver looking at her in the rearview mirror, a worried look on her face. Sue tried to look nonchalant, but she was a terrible actor.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the airfield. A scramjet was standing ready nearby, and when Sue got out of the steam car, she realized she would get to fly this thing. The meridian said a few words to the driver and the other soldier, who remained by the car.

“Come on,” he said to her, and motioned for her to walk toward the scramjet. She wasn’t familiar with all the types of aircraft that the Covenant had at their disposal, but she recognized the multi-purpose weapons platform standing in front of her. It was one of the most powerful weapons of the Covenant, capable of carrying nuclear weapons and able to cover the distance from the northern border to the Floral Sea in thirty minutes. One such scramjet could easily level a town like Charlestown in a single strike.

“Where is the pilot?” she asked. The meridian turned and grinned at her.

“You’re looking at him,” he said. Then, to her surprise, he extended his hand.

“Meridian Shukov,” he said. She shook his hand. He already knew her name, of course, so she remained silent. So the officer was also a pilot. Seemed the Luna Brigade trained their people well.

A helmet lay waiting for her on the front seat. She put it on, and then strapped herself in. Shukov sat right behind her. He spoke into the helmet comms system.

“Make sure the airflow symbol is green at all times,” he said. She gave him a thumbs-up.

Meridian Shukov then continued to go through a checklist, sometimes addressing her and sometimes just ticking off items for the control tower. It took him less than five minutes, and he seemed to be taking his time. Perhaps that was just the way one should go through the checklist; calm and easy. The tower spoke back to him a few times, with questions she didn’t comprehend, but she understood they were checking a list of their own, as well. Then the craft began moving, and suddenly, it lifted into the air, slowly but surely. There was a little more shaking than with the airships, but nothing uncomfortable. Once they were about a hundred meters up, Shukov spoke to her.

“Hang tight, Miss Atlas. Here we go.” And then, without warning, the ship tilted slightly, pointing toward the sky. A rocket ignited, and she was pressed back in her seat as the scramjet took off, quickly gaining altitude. Within a couple of minutes, they were passing through the clouds, and then, when she looked out, she thought she could almost see the curvature of the Earth.

“Are... Are we in space?” she said. Meridian Shukov chuckled.

“No, not quite. But we are in the upper layers of the atmosphere.”

A couple of minutes later he spoke again. “We’ll be passing your hometown right about... now.”

Sue looked out, but all she could see were the clouds beneath her, sometimes broken by patches of brown and a dull green through the cloud cover.

“We’ll be landing in about ten minutes. Starting descent in six,” Shukov said.

“Where are we going?” Sue asked, not expecting an answer. To her surprise, though, Shukov did answer.

“We’ll be landing right next to Legacy Spaceport. From there, we are to board the next shuttle to Luna.”


Mark checked his watch. Sue should be in the air by now, en route by scramjet from the Corpus airfield near Atlantis. She’d be in Legacy within minutes. She wouldn’t enter the city proper, though, not this time. The shuttle should be fueled and ready to take off as soon as she arrived, taking her off planet within minutes. There was no way Ivanov or anyone else would be able to stop her.

Once she was off planet, Mark would have to have a serious chat with Head Servant Lunde. Unless the Covenant leadership began seriously considering changing the status of the English, they would discover themselves spread too thin faster than they could even imagine. With the northern expansion, that process was already underway, and with the threat from the west, it should be obvious. The Moon people couldn’t hope to maintain the status quo for much longer, and unless they wanted an uprising, they needed to make some significant changes.

Sue was already known all over the Covenant. A heroine of the Janissaries, the perfect symbol of English and Moon people working together, if the latter played their cards right. If not, she could just as well end up the perfect symbol for an English uprising, one that could actually gain some ground, especially if mysterious agents from the west decided to back them. Mark had no doubt they would, and his own sources reported movement deep inside Covenant territory, from the Rift delta in the South to the deep woods of the North. Besides, whether it succeeded or not, an uprising would quickly become a blood bath, and the consequences would be unpredictable, to say the least. And after recent events in the North, it would surprise him if nobody, threatened by an English uprising, considered disposing of the English the way they had the French.

Mark was torn, still not knowing where the next move would come from. The game could end up with the Moon people conquering the world, or it could end with their ultimate downfall. It depended on so many factors, but he had a strong feeling that some of the key players would be Susan Atlas and Evan Hordvik, perhaps even Dave Wagner. He didn’t know where young Wagner was at the moment, but Hordvik should already be on Luna, and soon Sue would be safely off planet, as well.

He chuckled, as he considered the situation. Susan Atlas would soon come to recognize the heart of the Moo