Requiem (57 page)

'So far so
good,' said the interrogator. 'And this, I bet, is when things
started going wrong. You were betrayed weren't you?'

'Yes. I ordered
Daniels to stay in the security room and for Seventeen to
rendezvous with us at another point in the station. That was
probably the point where Seventeen killed Daniels.'

'Ahh,' the
interrogator crooned. 'Seventeen. The old woman, yes?'

'Yes.'

'Also known as
Abigail Shaw. We'd been searching for her for some time. Alas, the
discord of the Insolvency, it seems, is the best defence against
organisation and... structure.'

'The woman
killed Daniels and met us at the rendezvous. There, we continued on
to the detention level where we found the girl and where the woman,
Abigail, Seventeen, carried out the last act of her betrayal. She
killed Anderson and Jemma and would have killed me if I hadn't
taken the girl hostage.' The Warlord's voice dropped. The sense of
failure was burning in his chest, a splinter in the centre of his
heart. 'Seventeen... Abigail was more resourceful than I'd thought.
She shot through the girl's prosthetic arm and into me as I stood
behind her.'

'Not only did
you fail to see the potential for betrayal but you failed to
counter it effectively when it happened. Even though you had a
clear chance to do so. It hurts, doesn't it?'

The Warlord
struggled for a moment but the truth was too hard to resist. His
head hung down. The words dribbled from his lips.

'Yes.'

'Good. What
happened next?'

The Warlord was
passive, offering little resistance to the interrogator. He
answered the questions that were asked and clarified whatever
needed to be clarified. He felt the rush of excitement when the
interrogator told him he was doing a good job and he felt the dull
sting of pride running down his spine.

'So you went
through with your botched attempt to kidnap the girl all because
you wanted control of the Atlas Gates to direct the Icarus monster
towards Earth? Does that sound about right?'

'Yes. Even
though we learned Icarus was already carving a path towards us,
towards the Yurrick at least, we still needed to keep the
information she might have out of their hands.'

'Well, you
failed, but it is unlikely the Yurrick would be capable of stopping
Icarus. Even with whatever is on the blackbox, they lack the
direction, the gumption to do what is necessary, don't you
think?'

'I hope it is
too late.'

'Does this make
you happy?' the interrogator asked. 'To know that Icarus is bearing
down upon us.'

'It does.
Salvation is at hand.' He couldn't keep the happiness from his
voice.

'Yes, yes, very
poetic.'

'Icarus will
bring mercy to us all.'

'You think your
cause is noble yet all you wish to accomplish is death. There is
nothing noble about death. You seek to doom us all simply because
you're not happy with your lot in life. You really ought to try
harder to achieve the greater things in life, didn't your mother
ever tell you that?'

'Your people
killed my mother and my father,' said the Warlord. 'Their deaths
taught me everything I needed to know about you.'

'Regrettable.
But they would have died for a good reason. You can't have growth
without sacrifice.'

'You sacrificed
billions of people for growth. You sacrificed the Earth
itself.'

'Your
exaggerations will do you no favours here, Warlord.'

'Even if you
were face to face with the Devil you would deny your own
death.'

'We did not
sacrifice the Earth, as you say. What the Earth is going through
now is merely a part of its natural cycle. People have been saying
this for over a hundred years. Those who say contrary know nothing
of the way the Earth works.'

'Your denial is
staggering but it does not matter any more. You will meet your
death. Icarus will find you.'

'Icarus? No. We
will find a way to
use
Icarus. It will become a tool for
growth. We have some of the finest minds working on the problem at
this very moment.'

'You truly
believe what NeoCorp has told you?'

'They've never
been wrong before.'

'Of course not.
You can't be wrong when you can change history to suit
yourself.'

The
interrogator turned from the Warlord. 'It's easy to convince
yourself of these conspiracies when you live in the dirt and have
nothing else to believe, isn't it, Warlord? We've seen how you
live. What you do for pleasure in a place like that. I can't even
begin to understand why you would want to live that way.'

'You think it's
a choice?'

'Of course it's
a choice! You aren't willing to apply yourselves. You aren't
willing to educate yourselves and adjust to a modern job market.
With hard work and dedication you can become anything you set your
mind to.'

The Warlord
watched the green consumer number circling around the
interrogator's bicep. Number five.

'What did you
do to deserve that number?' the Warlord asked.

'I began life
as a six but I've earned this number through hard work and
dedication, just like I was promised. I applied myself. Something
you wouldn't understand.'

The Warlord
looked at him and felt nothing but pity.

'No. You don't
understand,' the interrogator said. He pointed at the Warlord.
'That's why you're
there
and I'm
here
.'

'Don't you
understand what NeoCorp has done to you? What humanity has become?
Can't you see we're dying, that we've
been
dying for over a
hundred years? The Earth is all but dead. We killed it and the last
empire on Earth, like all those before it, has been built upon the
bones of the oppressed. And it will fall like all the others.'

'We will let
Icarus deal with the Yurrick first, then we will take control. Our
growth, our strength will be unstoppable.'

'Icarus will
save you whether you want it to or not,' said the Warlord.

The
interrogator paced before the Warlord, keeping his eyes fixed on
the prisoner.

'I was
wondering if you could settle a bet for me. Me and a few of the
others, you don't need to worry about who they are, just know that
they're all... above board, have been wondering what your real name
is. I find it horribly formal, calling you only by your official
title.' The interrogator's black, reflective face stared at the
Warlord. 'So I'm curious, Warlord. What is your real name?'

'My name is the
Downfall Warlord. A name given not chosen, but I realise it is as
good as any other.' Finally, a truth the Warlord was happy to
admit.

'Oh come now. I
thought you would be more agreeable than that. What is your real
name?'

'The Downfall
Warlord. A name given not chosen.'

The
interrogator stepped towards him. He held his glassy face directly
in front of the Warlord's, almost pressing the helmet against the
respirator. '
Tell me your real name.'

'The Downfall
Warlord. A name given not chosen.'

'Before the
Warlord, you had a name. What was it?'

'The
Downf-'

The
interrogator's fist drove into the Warlord's stomach then slammed
into the side of his face. Some of his teeth loosened and the skin
over his cheek split open. Beneath the respirator, he smiled.

'Icarus is
coming. The end is near,' said the Warlord.

'TELL ME YOUR
NAME!'

'The Dow-'

Another fist
drove into his stomach. The air was knocked out of him but still he
smiled. He couldn't even catch his breath when another fist struck
his temple. Still he smiled. The interrogator could see it in the
Warlord's eyes.

'I can only
speak the truth,' said the Warlord.

'I think that's
enough for now,' said the interrogator, forcing calmness into his
voice. 'But we
will
continue and our bet
will
be
resolved.'

He turned
towards the wall where the door ran flush. 'Hurry up and get this
fucking thing open,' he demanded.

The door swung
outward from the room. As the interrogator walked out the Warlord
laughed behind him. A sick, rasping laugh, sharp enough to cut
through any armour.

Seline took the
blackbox from the shelf again and connected it. She searched
through the files again to check that she hadn't missed anything.
She copied the folder that contained the videos of herself and her
mother onto the hard drive in her optics. She unplugged the
blackbox and sat it on the night-stand. She stared at it for a long
time, waiting for something to happen.

14:51 read the
clock. She pulled the sheet from her body, all the way off so that
she could see her toes. She wiggled them slowly then, gently, swung
her legs over the edge of the bed and for the first time since
she'd escaped she put weight onto them. She levered herself forward
and stood up as straight as she could. She tried to lock her knees
into place but a sharp bolt of pain shot up through her toes. She
sat back down quietly cursing to herself and, after a moment,
flexed her toes again. Each movement was accompanied by the loud
cracking of her joints. She lowered her feet onto the tiles again
and let her skin adjust to the sensation.

She bit her
bottom lip and pushed herself onto her feet again. The pain was
there but it was bearable. She stood there for a while, like a
frightened child on a tightrope before sliding one foot along the
tiles and past the other. Her bones were holding. The pain still
there, still bearable.

She let go of
the side of the bed and shuffled her way to the window. There was a
small dial for adjusting the tint. She turned it to zero. The light
was soft but still blinding. She shielded her eyes and looked away
from the window and noticed her right arm. She raised it to the
light and squinted at it. The fibre was different. The patches of
rust were gone. The joints looked sturdier. She clenched the hand
into a fist. The action was smooth, no delays. She dropped the arm
to her side and looked out the window. Dense rain clouds hung above
the city. She could see her reflection in the window. The bruises
were still there in discoloured blotches and dark rings around both
of her eyes. She ran her hand over her head. The tiny bristles of
hair scratched at her skin. She thought about removing the hospital
gown to look over the rest of her body but decided against it.

At length she
made her way to the door where she waited, still swaying slightly
from side to side on what felt like brand new legs. She thought she
heard the murmuring of voices through the door but couldn't be
sure. She placed her left hand on it, feeling the cold, speckled
surface beneath her finger tips. Her heart thumped against her
ribs. She picked up the blackbox from her night-stand. She took a
deep breath and gently slid the door to the side. The light from
the next room poured over her.
This must be what child birth
feels like.

From the
doorway she could see Belameir lying on a sofa reading
The
Complete Sherlock Holmes
. Sear was standing at the window,
staring up at Darinus and Athene looked as if she were explaining
something to Mercer. Seline couldn't see Therin or the Doctor
anywhere.

The room fell
silent as she walked in and the others realised she was there. It
was warm. Her bandages itched. Seline hobbled across the room and
placed the blackbox on the table. She held her arms across her
stomach. Everyone was looking at her, silent, waiting for some kind
of explanation.

'Better late
than never, right?' she said.

'… You've
unlocked it?' asked Mercer.

She nodded then
walked into the kitchen. Belameir was about to get up from his
place on the sofa to help her but she raised her hand, gesturing
for him to stay put. She made her way into the kitchen and poured
herself some coffee. Athene took the blackbox off the table. She
looked at Seline, leaning against the bench, quietly sipping from
her cup. She wanted to say something to her but nothing seemed to
fit.

'Good,' she
finally said and walked from the room.

'What are they
going to do with it?' asked Belameir.

'First, they
try to figure out what information is actually on there,' said
Sear. 'Then they start looking for some answers.'

'Did you get
any idea of what was on there?' Belameir asked Seline.

She took a long
sip of her coffee and swallowed it down. She let the taste linger
on her tongue. 'I couldn't make sense of most of it,' she said.

'Well, I think
someone here should tell her don't you?' said Belameir.

'I don't think
she's ready yet,' said Mercer, crossing his arms.

'You couldn't
wait until she finished her coffee at least, Belameir?' said
Sear.

Seline stopped
drinking her coffee and waited for some kind of explanation.

'I don't think
something like this can wait, Sear.'

Sear shook his
head. Mercer looked at the floor.

'I know that if
it were me I'd want to know right away,' said Belameir. 'I'm sorry
but it needs to be said.' He looked directly at Seline, pausing for
effect. 'You look like absolute shit, Seline and your ass is
hanging out the back of your gown.'

She swallowed
the coffee in her mouth.

Belameir smiled
and placed his book aside. 'Well now that you're back, the world
can start spinning again. I was afraid we'd all have to get out and
push.'

'The world
doesn't revolve around me, only you do.'

'So... how do
you feel?' Mercer asked.

She thought for
a moment. 'About as good as I look.'

'Are you sure
you should be walking around?'

'How else was I
going to get coffee?'