Sovereign (Sovereign Series) (15 page)

“We
meet them outside the borders.  For the safety of the colony, we don’t let them
come close.” 

I
remember Dylan mentioning some sort of perimeter besides the fence.  “Is that
why we have a force perimeter?”  I say it confidently, but I’m not sure I said
it right.

“It’s
a forcefield, and yes it’s there to protect us.”

Growing
up, they told us they took measures to protect us from animals and savages but
I wonder if it was really other colonies they were worried about.  They don’t
want civilians to know anyone’s out there.  They shelter them from the
killings, the punishments.  They’re giving them the illusion of safety. 
Keeping the food scarce so they think nothing else is out there.  And any other
human instincts that might question Nathan’s ways are squashed with
medications.

I
spend a couple of hours with Marsiana learning about inventory, though I can’t
get her talking about trade.  This is my out.  I have to convince Nathan to put
me on a trade group--a convoy--so I can get on the other side of that
forcefield. 

Next,
we meet up with the on-duty guard at the women’s facility.  They explain basic
security to me, and allow me to “keep watch” for about five minutes while the
guard takes a bathroom break.  Part of me hopes I’ll get to see Alyssa, but who
knows where in the building she might be.  I ask if we can see the other guard
posts, but Marsiana tells me we don’t have time. 

The
women who roam the facility seem to be moving without much purpose.  To my
understanding, most of these women work in Population (mothers, caretakers, and
such).  I’ve already seen a dozen pregnant women.  I wonder if Alyssa is pregnant
yet.  I cringe at the thought.

When
we’re back outside, we hear a commotion by the front gate.  The captain jogs
toward it, and I follow her.  Once we’re closer, I see that the commotion is
Sean and Billy fighting.  A few guards rip them apart and Titus gets in Billy’s
face and shouts at him, something I can’t understand. 

A
huge patrol soldier, dressed in gray camouflage, speaks up.  “Titus.  We have
to go.”

Titus
looks around and his eyes lock on me.  “Take her.  These two can go tomorrow.”

“Come
on, then,” the huge one says to me, then turns his attention back to Titus. 
“Not alone, though.  I’m not a baby sitter.”

“Right,”
Titus answers.  “Captain, see to these two?”

Marsiana
nods in reply, and escorts the boys in the other direction.  Titus crawls into
the patrol truck, cramming me into a tiny space with him.  It’s the kind of
truck with a bench seat in the front, and two tiny seats turned sideways behind
them.  The back of the truck is an empty space, maybe originally intended for
carrying supplies or other things. 

Titus
and I are facing each other, our knees less than a foot apart.  I’ve been dying
to ask him questions about Cornelius.  But the massive soldier and a smaller
one are in the front only inches away from us.

The
truck carries us past the fences, and out onto the open field that surrounds
the colony.  As the terrain bounces us about in the cabin, I hold onto the seat
and the window trying to keep still.  A quick turn tosses me into Titus’s lap. 
He grabs my elbow with one hand, and my side with the other to set me back in
my seat.  Not a word or a facial expression of any kind give me a hint at what
he’s thinking.  He seems off today and I wish he would speak.  Maybe he’s
frustrated about Sean and Billy’s fight.

“Walter,”
he says to the big one.  “Can you explain things to the kid?” 
The kid
,
I scoff in my head.  When Titus looks at me, I roll my eyes and look out the
window.  I feel the tension between us grow palpable in the air and I wonder
where it’s coming from.

The
big one, Walter, begins to speak as the vehicle slows down.  “The force
perimeter is hard to see, but it’s marked off every twenty feet with these
poles.”  He points to one on the left, and I crane my neck to see it.  It’s a
large, bronze colored pole that looks plain enough, but there must be
mechanical and electrical things inside it.  He reaches to a device on the
dashboard that’s easily twenty years more advanced than anything in this
antique-looking truck. 

Walter
presses a series of buttons, which I want to memorize but can’t really see. 
The machine makes a beeping sound and then we ride straight through an opening
in the force perimeter that I can’t even see.  He drives the truck very close
to the pole, on the right side.  I’m not sure if it
has
to be the right
side or if it could be either one and he simply chose it.  Either way, I’ll
remember
right
.

It
occurs to me that if I’d ever successfully jumped the fence with Dylan’s wings,
I never would have made it out because I didn’t know this border existed.  I
would have run for a mile and then slammed into a wall I couldn’t see, and
perhaps it would have killed me.

Once
we’re outside the perimeter, Walter presses another button, which I assume
disables the opening.  He turns right and begins driving clockwise around the
compound.  The terrain is bumpy and there’s plain wilderness as far as I can
see.  For a split second I wonder if there are mutated animals out there,
lurking in the shadows of the trees.  Titus jars me from the brief daydream
with his hand on my knee.

“Pay
attention,” he says, then points to a guard tower that looms ahead.  My eyes
drift to the hand still on my knee, and he removes it. 

I
wonder if maybe I really am meant to be completely on my own.  Maybe the
creatures in the woods will welcome me.  I suddenly realize, I’m supposed to be
trying to escape, and instead I’m drowning my senses in self-pity. 
Stop
,
I tell myself as I try to focus on details.  We’ve driven
about a quarter mile on the outside, and it looks like the guard tower ahead is
about another quarter mile.  I can assume all the towers are spaced a mile
apart, but they may not be consistently spaced. 

When
we return to the entrance we came through, I should be too far for any of the
guard towers to see me.  But somehow I doubt they would tolerate blind spots. 
I must be missing something. 

The
tower ahead becomes clear as we draw closer and the fog dissipates.  It puts
the towers inside the compound to shame in every possible way.  This tower is
made of metal, and it’s so tall I can’t see inside the room
atop it.  Walter stops the truck and we all climb out onto the dead grass.  As
we near the tower on foot, the grass fades into gravel that crunches under our
boots.  I don’t see a ladder anywhere, but there’s a security pad on one of the
tower legs. 

After
Walter clears his access on the pad, an elevator drops down from the tower
floor.  Once the elevator pulls us inside the tower, my senses are overwhelmed
with the sight of instrumentation and weapons, the sounds of mechanical
whirring, and the smell of ten sweaty men in close quarters. 

  The
only thing I recognize on the computer screens are images from security
cameras.  I can’t make sense of the other images.  Titus stands out of the way
with his hands behind his back, his face devoid of emotion. 

Walter
continues educating me.  “These monitors help us patrol the area.  Thermal
imaging, video feeds.”

“And
then there’s the old fashioned way,” a red-headed, older man interrupts.  I
turn to see him standing beside a cylindrical device, which I take in
quizzically.  I walk toward it and the man winks at me.  “It’s a telescope.”

“Oh,”
I mumble, remembering an article about those.  Decades ago telescopes were used
to view space.  Now they’re pointless because of the cloud cover.  I guess
they’ve found another use for it. 

“Take
a look,” Walter encourages. 

I
look into the eyepiece and see an enhanced view of distant terrain.  Not only
can I see across the open plain between the perimeter and the inner fences, I
can see people inside the compound.  I can also see all of the interior guard
towers, and two other perimeter guard towers. 

My
chances of escaping unnoticed are slim to none.  I can’t escape today.  It’ll
have to be at night, and even then, they probably have night-capable cameras. 

They’ll
never put me on perimeter security, so trade convoys are my best bet.  So how
do I get on them?  I glance back over at Titus who’s now watching me with his
hands in his pockets. 

Walter
and the redhead take turns explaining the weapons they have, which are
powerful, and long-range.  One of them stands on a tripod, and probably weighs
more than I do.  I’m leaning in to look into the scope when Titus finally
speaks.  “Let her shoot it,” he commands, so authoritatively it takes me
aback. 

The
redhead scratches his day-old beard, pondering for a moment.  He turns the gun
a certain direction and checks the scope, making adjustments.  He finally nods
with a strange grunt, and steps away from the weapon.  I step up and peer into
the scope.  Some type of carcass hangs from a tree by black cord.  It looks
fresh.  Maybe the grounded birds aren’t the only animals left.

“
Aim for the head, love,” Red tells me.  I
place my arm across the gun and try to figure a comfortable way to position my
body around it.  I put my eye to the scope and line the red dot up with the
center of the animal’s head. 

When
I pull the trigger, the gun kicks so hard it dislocates my shoulder, but I bite
my lip to keep from crying out in front of all these men.  They already think
I’m weak, I can’t give them more of a reason.  Red checks the scope and claps
me on the back with a laugh. 

A
few other men check the scope for themselves.  “Dead ringer,” one of them says,
with pleasant surprise in his voice.  I try my best to smile, but Titus catches
my eye with concern in his features.  He knows I’m hurt.

“Movement,”
Walter yells as he checks the scope himself.  The men swing into a flurry of
activity, locking and loading weapons, checking monitors.  No orders are
barked, these men are a well-oiled machine.  “Get her out of here,” he shouts
at Titus.

Titus
grabs me by my good arm and drags me back into the elevator where we zip to the
ground momentarily.  We run back to the truck, me following his haste, a little
unnerved by his sudden worry. 

Everyone
in the tower is distracted, and I’m running with no one paying me any attention
besides Titus.  If there was ever a time for me to break away, this is it. 
Titus is strong, but he’s big.  I can outrun him. 

A
few yards from the truck, I begin to dip toward the woods.  Before I’ve even
taken a step out of line, Titus sweeps me up into his arms and runs the rest of
the way to the truck, shoving me inside before climbing in after me. 

I’m
not getting out this time.

The
truck flies into motion, Titus driving like mad.  He takes us to the first
bronze pole and opens a portal.  We whiz through and Titus slams on the
brakes.  Hard.

He
looks behind us checking for something, then looks me in the eye.  Without a
word, he reaches toward me and I pull back.  When he latches onto my right arm,
I realize he’s trying to fix my shoulder.  He doesn’t even warn me before he
yanks my arm, forcing it back into the socket. 

I
let out a groan, but manage not to scream.  His hand lingers on my shoulder,
massaging the tissue around the injury.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“What
was that about?  What movement?”  I replace his hand with my own, rubbing my
shoulder.

“You’re
not authorized to see that.”  He sits back in his seat, with his hands on the
wheel, still breathing heavily from the run.

“What’s
out there?”

“I
just needed to get you back inside.  Everything’s fine.  Our men handle these
kinds of incidents according to standard protocol, and they are very skilled. 
There’s no need to worry.” 

I’m
hating the way he sounds all business.  I want to talk to the Titus that I
thought was becoming a friend.

I
try to look back outside the border, but he turns my face back toward the
colony, my prison. 
Will I ever be free?

“The
men in perimeter guard are the veterans of our team.  Very skilled.  They keep
us safe.”  It strikes me odd how he’s answering questions I didn’t ask.

“What’s
your job when you’re not training
kids
?” I ask, unable to stop the spite
in the last word.  I’m thinking now’s the only chance I’ll have to get him
talking.  He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get us back to the compound, so I
want to take advantage of the privacy. 

“Personnel. 
Troop management.  I make assignment recommendations.  Evaluations.  Things
like that.”

“You’re
a people person,” I deduce.

“I
can be.  More importantly, I’m a good judge of character.”  He takes a deep
breath, calculating his words.  “I
know
people,” he tells me.  The
conversation seems to be relaxing him, but there’s still an edge that might be
dangerously sharp.  I don’t want to push it, but I do anyway.

“What
do you know about me?” I ask, tentatively.  He meets my gaze, curiosity growing
in his expression.  Like the curiosity I saw in Medical.  I try to keep my face
neutral.  I still don’t know if Titus is someone I can trust, so I can’t give
anything away that might incriminate me.  If I let on that I’m planning to
leave, he could have me arrested for treason.