All your fault, Adam. You could have saved us.
Traitor. Rotten lying fucking traitor.
Nevil pulled away because he didn’t know what else to do and his legs had made the decision for him. Adam caught up with him again and tried to turn him around. People were definitely watching now. Nevil didn’t care, but he couldn’t yell what he wanted to yell because he was too numb, too shocked. His throat had sealed shut. Now he felt physically sick.
“I’m going to put this right, I swear,” Adam said. “Give me a chance.”
Nevil felt the dam suddenly burst. It all flooded out on a strangled sob. “And what about me? Why tell me? You bastard.”
“Nevil, I’m going back home to get something from my lab. I’ll see Prescott. But I’ve got to do this first.”
Adam looked at him for a few moments as if he was expecting something, then turned away and headed out of the compound. Nevil had no idea what to do next. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gordie bearing down on him.
“Is everything all right, Dr. Estrom?” The security guard loomed over him. “Where’s Professor Fenix going?”
How could Nevil tell him? How could he sum up those few terrible moments? Had he even heard right, or imagined it, or what?
Gordie’s expression said he hadn’t imagined anything, but that didn’t make it possible to share this burden with the man. Half of him was already working out logical reasons why Adam did what he did, but the other half—the emotional part, the part of hurt feelings and fears and grief—was screaming that his brother had died and Adam had kept the grubs a secret from the rest of the world.
Nevil thought he had no idea what to do, but he did. He’d just have to think it over, because it was a terrible and irreversible step.
Unlike Adam, Nevil knew this was something he didn’t dare keep to himself.
“Just gone to get some stuff from his home,” Nevil said, voice shaking. Gordie looked unconvinced. “Let’s get going. He can catch up with us in Jacinto.”
CHAPTER 3
They are a divided people, and that is why we will ultimately defeat them.
(Myrrah, the Locust Queen, on the weakness of humans.)
OFFICE OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE RICHARD PRESCOTT, HOUSE OF THE SOVEREIGNS, EPHYRA: FROST, 10 A.E.
Richard Prescott had stood looking out of this office window before, and with an equal sense of the inevitable.
You knew.
The memory came back to him clearly, as if his brain had understood at the time that something wasn’t quite right and had filed away the evidence for later analysis. And in the way of all betrayals, the words drifted back to him as well, this time with a new meaning that made his stomach knot. He replayed a meeting in this room nine years ago, when the Locust were about to finally overrun humanity. It had been with Adam Fenix and the defense chiefs, it had been about the last-resort decision to deploy the Hammer of Dawn against Sera’s cities to stop the Locust advance, and it had been about deaths: billions of deaths. It had to be a surgical strike. It had to be done fast, to catch the Locust unaware, and most of the population of Sera would never get to the only safe haven in time, to the Ephyran plateau.
But you already knew, Adam. You’d known for years.
Adam Fenix had argued against it. It was his weapon, his ultimate deterrent designed for these doomsday scenarios, but he’d argued. Did he have an alternative, Prescott had asked? Fenix’s answer came back to him clearly now, each word now tinted with a fresh and shocking meaning.
If we’d had more time … there could have been other ways we might have stopped them.
Yes, Fenix had said that. It had sounded like a scientist considering less mutually destructive ways to wipe them out, nothing more, just uncharacteristically indecisive, but that was only to be expected. It wasn’t every day that governments took the decision to wipe out most of their own civilization to win a war.
But you didn’t mean that at all, did you?
Prescott, like everyone else, had believed the Locust had erupted without warning, an unknown species that had been biding its time unseen and undetected under Sera’s surface for years. This morning, he suddenly knew better. And it hurt.
You lying bastard, Fenix. You arrogant, treacherous, lying bastard.
It all made sense now. It all fell into place.
Prescott turned back to Nevil Estrom. The physicist was sitting with his arms folded awkwardly on the table, almost as if this was an interrogation—skinny, bespectacled, visibly crushed by the shame of having turned in his boss. Loyalty was the quality any politician prized most, even if he displayed it the least, but it was wasted on Adam Fenix.
He knew. He damn well knew. He knew they were coming, and he told nobody. And he kept it to himself until now.
Prescott couldn’t recall the last time anyone had shocked him. Events had, yes: he’d been as stunned as everyone else when the Locust emerged. There’d been classified matters that had sometimes woken him in the middle of the night and left him staring at the ceiling, gut churning and unable to get back to sleep again. There were things he’d quietly dreaded becoming public, background things like the real health risks of imulsion exposure.
But nothing had slapped him hard across the face like this and challenged his view of the world and everything he knew about it.
He thought he knew how low humans would stoop. It was his job to know that, handle it, and even exploit it to work for him and the good of the state.
But he hadn’t realized one man would let his own species face extinction for no better reason than conceit.
Adam’s a scientist. A former officer. A gentleman. Always the malcontent, always critical of the government, but I never thought of him as a traitor. Just a liability. Not the kind of man to relocate to Azura. He would have talked. He would have objected. All that fine morality from a man who made it possible to burn billions to death.
Prescott decided it was time to throw a lifeline to Nevil. “I realize how difficult it must have been to come to me, Dr. Estrom,” he said. “And I won’t pretend I’m not shocked. You’re sure about this?”
“He told me himself.”
“And why do you suppose he did that? And after so long a time?”
Nevil meshed his hands and frowned at them. “I couldn’t live with knowing all that and having to keep it to myself. I think that finally overwhelmed Professor Fenix, too, keeping that bottled up for so many years.”
Prescott had to know. “To unburden himself to you, and not to his son?”
“Oh, he never told Marcus, sir. They don’t talk like that. I always got the impression that Adam feels unworthy of him.”
At least Fenix had no delusions on that front, then. He was unworthy. Prescott still found it hard to believe that he could have kept it from Marcus for so many years, though. But people hid terrible crimes and dirty secrets from their families for their entire lives. Prescott decided to put that suspicion on a back burner and deal with the immediate problem: his most senior scientific adviser, his foremost weapons expert, had been in regular contact with the Locust, knew their intent, and might still be in league with them now.
Prescott didn’t understand Fenix’s motive, so he had to treat it as hostile until he did.
So perhaps he still believes he can avert a bloodbath by talking nicely to them. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter a damn if he’s a well-meaning idiot or if he’s just doing a deal to save his own skin. The effect is the same. He knew that E-Day was coming, he knew about it for years, and if he’d told Dalyell, we could have been prepared.
He’s an enemy of the state.
We could have shipped him out to Azura long ago, but Dalyell … my God, did Dalyell know too and not tell me?
The thought seized Prescott and he walked as casually as he could to the window and stood looking out, in case Nevil spotted the turmoil on his face. Prescott’s father, David, once Chairman of the COG himself, had taught him from the time he could walk how to behave
like the statesman he would inevitably become. He’d schooled his son to hide his feelings and remain detached. But the thought that Chairman Dalyell might have kept the presence of the Locust to himself for so long was a hard idea to swallow without showing some reaction.
Party politics could be insanely destructive. They almost always came before the interests of the state and its people. Prescott knew that. It still made his scalp crawl.
Nevil shuffled in his seat, making the antique mahogany creak. “Do you ever hate yourself, Chairman?”
It wasn’t a scientist’s question. Prescott rather liked that. He turned, composed and in control again, hands in pockets as if he heard shocking revelations of apocalyptic secrecy every day.
“Do you?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. I do. I’ve denounced a man who’s treated me like family, who’s given me a career … and it doesn’t feel good.”
“But does it feel right?” Prescott was looking directly into Nevil’s face now. The extensive security checks the man had undergone to work on classified projects said he’d wanted to serve as a Gear but failed the medical on various grounds. His brother Emil had been killed in combat. A yearning to do the honorable thing showed on his face. “Does it feel necessary?”
“I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t.”
“There’s no need to be ashamed, Doctor Estrom. Self-loathing is just our consciences trying to get our attention.” It was time for a little calculated theater to help Nevil put his actions in context. Prescott put his hand on his shoulder. “I hate myself quite regularly. You can’t cause the deaths of billions and shrug it off. You just have to be honest with yourself about why you did it.”
The office was suddenly the quietest place on Sera. Prescott could hear Nevil breathing and then the wet click as he swallowed. The sporadic dull boom of artillery fire seemed suddenly louder.
“Shock, sir. Because it’s all hindsight. We can’t do anything about it now.”
“Well, one thing we can do is not compound the deceit. It’s much easier to charge a machine-gun position than inform on someone you like and respect.” Prescott knew that it wasn’t at all, not for most people. But it was almost certainly true for Nevil, desperate to fight for his country but resigned to doing the next best thing. Prescott slid into a more familiar tone, soothing, all first-name terms. “Did Adam tell no one at all? Not even Chairman Dalyell?”
“He says he didn’t. That was why it ate at him, I think. It’s one hell of a burden to carry alone.”
“Indeed. For fifteen years. Almost beyond belief.”
“If he’d told anyone, we’d have heard by now, sir.”
“Oh, I know. I merely marvel at the mindset that doesn’t rush to share that information with somebody. Is he sane, do you think?”
“I’m not a psychiatrist. But he’s always seemed perfectly logical … reasonable. Perhaps I should have spotted it.”
“No, this isn’t your fault. This is Adam’s responsibility, Nevil—I’m sorry, may I call you Nevil?”
“Of course.”
“Then call me Richard. Do you know if Adam’s been in contact with the Locust since E-Day?”
Nevil pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked helpless for a moment. “I didn’t ask enough questions. I’m afraid I was too shocked. Not very scientific and rational of me.”
“Perfectly understandable. Nobody expects a state hero with Fenix’s background to betray humanity.”
“He said he thought he could avert a war. I know he meant that.”
“Don’t make excuses for him, Nevil. He’s one of the most intelligent men of his generation. He should have known when he was out of his depth.” Prescott sat down at the table, facing Nevil. “A new species. A new sentient species. Even thinking as a scientist rather than a soldier—you just can’t keep that to yourself and think it’s all fine.”
“He’s not evil or dishonest. He just thinks he always knows best and has to solve every problem himself.”
“The road to hell, Nevil. You know what it’s paved with.”
“But how do I face him now? Are you going to arrest him?”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Easily said.”
There was no way Nevil could be allowed to go back to the DRA after this. He’d have to be shipped off to Azura. He was a valuable asset anyway, a key man in the Hammer of Dawn program, as well as a loyal citizen.
Loyalty. It was priceless.
“Excuse me for a moment.” Prescott went to his desk and pressed the intercom to summon his secretary. “Jillian, would you ask Captain Dury to drop by as soon as he’s free, please?”
“Certainly, sir. Would you like some tea?”
“That would be very kind, Jillian. Thank you. And one for Dr. Estrom.”
“Right away.”
David Prescott had taught his young son the essentials of political survival while other fathers were showing their boys how to fish and play thrashball. Richard Prescott had expected to win elections to become leader of the most powerful alliance on Sera, but his final ascent to power had simply been fate; Tomas Dalyell dropped dead almost a year after E-Day, when elections had already been suspended. Deputy Chairman Prescott took his place, surprised but fully prepared. He already had his survival kit. He had a loyal and efficient assistant, and he treated her like the last Queen of Tyrus: he had personally loyal officers in the army, not too senior, so that they were both low-profile and had something to aspire to: and he had sufficient dirt on everyone without their having any on him. Acquiring and maintaining loyalty was the hard part, but recruiting the right personality types and applying gracious treatment—honesty, courtesy, making a cup of coffee or remembering a birthday here and there—worked its magic.
Now he had to work that magic on Nevil Estrom. He could have called security and had Nevil bundled into a cell before shipping him out, but the man deserved better, and it was far easier to get work out of volunteers. Jillian came in with a tray of tea, some herbal substitute for the real thing now that supplies had run out. The two men sipped in polite silence as if they hadn’t been talking about Adam Fenix fraternizing with the enemy at all.
“You do understand that I can’t let you return to the DRA knowing what you know now, don’t you?” Prescott said.
Nevil didn’t blink. He would have made an excellent Gear if his physique had matched his courage. “Is this where someone from COGIntel puts a round through the back of my head?”
“No. This is where I put you on a helicopter and send you to Azura. I’d better tell you about that, hadn’t I?”
Prescott walked Nevil to the window. The smoke that hung like a permanent curtain in the distance was growing denser by the hour. It would focus Nevil’s mind, not that the man had a choice.
“You can see how bad the situation is out there,” Prescott said. “You really would be much better off on Azura. And I need you there.”
Nevil looked blank for a moment. “What’s Azura?”
“Nothing to worry about. It’s an island facility the COG built early in the Pendulum Wars because everyone was convinced that the conflict would end in global annihilation. Ironic. Anyway, Azura is a bunker of sorts. The Locust are unlikely to ever find it.”
“And somehow nobody knows this island exists.”
“Few know. Anyway, bunker hardly does it justice. It’s rather beautiful, to be quite honest. Every comfort you could wish for and every facility for your research. If you’ve ever wondered why all our best minds were lost in the last ten years—they weren’t. We shipped most of them out. Biologists, engineers, our senior army officers, all the disciplines required to rebuild Sera after a disaster. And the contents of the museums and libraries, of course.”
Nevil just stared at the darkening skyline and seemed to be shaking his head very slowly. After finding that his boss was a traitor, discovering that the COG had a hidden bolthole for the great and the good probably seemed a minor surprise by
comparison. “But you didn’t relocate the director of the Defense Research Agency.”
Relocate. Prescott almost smiled. Nevil caught on very fast indeed. “How do you think he would have reacted to finding out about Azura?”
“So you’re not actually surprised by what I’ve told you, then. You never trusted him anyway.”
“Nevil, even the Chief of the Defense Staff doesn’t know about Azura. It’s not because I don’t respect or trust him. But blunt people can cause more damage than dishonest ones when they open their mouths. Besides—the Adam Fenixes and Victor Hoffmans of this world are still needed right here.”
Nevil was still doing that very slight, very slow head shake. “So I just vanish. What do you tell the people I work with? Or my mother? Missing presumed dead, like the others?”
“Partial truth. That you’ve been sent to work on a classified project. We can do MPD if you wish, though.”
“Adam won’t believe that.”
“Adam doesn’t have to. And if you want members of your family to accompany you, I can arrange that.” Prescott knew that Nevil hadn’t spoken to his mother in fifteen years, because COGIntel was thorough in its checks. Like so many in Ephyra, Nevil had few relatives left alive to check on. “You don’t have to lift a finger. Your belongings will be collected and you’ll be on the next flight.”
“You could just handcuff me and shove me on the Raven. Or have me shot.”
“I don’t want to do that to a man who helped develop the Hammer of Dawn. And you did, Nevil. Adam got the Octus Medal, but now it’s your turn for a little reward, albeit a private one.”
Nevil turned and looked him in the eye. If Prescott had passed him in the street, he would have thought he was just a clerk, a dull, weedy little man of no importance. But there was that look: absolute steel, absolute honesty, and a refusal to give in to his fears. He was scared. Prescott could see it.