Ethos Page 12

  Nev stepped up behind Brendle and peered over his shoulder. For several seconds, she was silent, watching his work.

  Then, suddenly, she said sharply, “What are you doing?”

  In a flash, Brendle sprang up from his crouch over the console. He moved so swiftly that David could barely register what was happening.

  As he rose, Brendle jabbed an elbow into Nev’s ribs, low and hard. She doubled over instantly, a gasp escaping her lips, and stumbled back several paces, catching her balance just before she fell over backwards. As she reeled, Brendle whirled sharply to his right and grabbed Dagmar by the throat.

  “What the h—” Dagmar cried, but Brendle’s fingers were already squeezing her throat so tightly that her voice dwindled to a strangled gasp. She flailed and clutched wildly at his hand. He heaved her bodily by the throat up off the floor, and she began to kick and buck under the pressure of his chokehold.

  With his free hand, Brendle grabbed a fistful of Dagmar’s hair. He jerked her head in one direction and then, rapidly, in the other. David heard a sickening pop, like the snapping of a cluster of dry branches. Dagmar went limp, and her head flopped to the side unnaturally. Brendle had broken her neck.

  Unconsciously, David had taken several steps backward and was now pressed against the stacks of hardware. He searched wildly for Tezzlee or Sol, but Brendle had acted so swiftly and silently that neither of them had taken note of anything amiss.

  But Nev had recovered from Brendle’s blow. She was in a crouch facing him, her fists raised and ready to strike.

  “Brendle . . .” she began lowly, as if speaking to a cornered and dangerous wild animal.

  “Shut up,” Brendle hissed. “Don’t try anything, Nev. I’ll kill you as easily as her.” He jerked his head in the direction of Dagmar’s body, crumpled on the floor.

  “What’s going on, Brendle?” Nev breathed.

  “It’s not obvious?” Brendle asked, a mirthless smile spreading across his face. “You’re a fool. Anksyr’s dead. Dagmar’s dead. And the rest of you will be arrested for your treason against the city of Detroit.”

  Nev’s eyes were wide and stunned. It was the first time David had ever seen her truly thrown off balance.

  “All I have to do is trip the alarm, and Chancellor Kinnion and three dozen Immortal guards will be on your ass in seconds. It’s over, Nev,” Brendle sneered. “Your little game for Malcolm and the Twisted Immortals is through. Don’t make this any worse for yourself. Put your hands up—”

  Nev sprang. She crossed the vault in one bound, her right foot wind-milling out ahead of her, catching Brendle with a glancing blow to the jaw. He staggered sideways but did not fall. With one hand, he reacted quickly, grabbing Nev by the ankle before she even reached the ground.

  He pulled her to the floor, then fell heavily on her, his knee driving into her sternum. Her breath choked out audibly with the force of his weight.

  Pop. A tiny hole formed in the side of Brendle’s neck and then immediately began to grow. He reached up, clawing at the opening in his neck, his eyes rolling wildly. The hole grew, and seconds later, his torso went limp and fell at an angle across Nev’s body. The opening in Brendle’s body continued to grow and grow.

  Nev pushed Brendle’s limp, already lifeless form off her and crawled backwards from it, coming to a crouch several feet away. The hole in Brendle’s neck had spread upward so rapidly that his head was already gone; he was only a trunk and loose limbs, curled in a heap on the ground. The hole began to expand downward. A few moments later, Brendle was gone. His body had disintegrated completely.

  As if from above his own body, David looked down and saw the biotoggler in his hands. It was like they belonged to someone else. Without even knowing what he was doing, without even thinking, he had drawn the weapon the moment Nev leapt at Brendle—and fired. He had just killed a man.

  Nev rose steadily. Her eyes were trained on David. He felt his chest rush and pulse, his cells vibrating.

  “Tezzlee,” Nev called, not taking her eyes off David.

  Tezzlee appeared in the doorway in an instant, her eyebrows shooting up at the sight of Nev, disheveled and heaving for breath, and Dagmar, murdered.

  “What the—” Tezzlee’s accusing gaze landed on David, where he still stood with the biotoggler raised. But Nev put up a quick, reassuring hand.

  “Brendle was a double agent. He killed Dagmar; David toggled him. I’m going to disable the server. Warn Sol—and then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  To her credit, Tezzlee accepted all of this from her commander without question. She nodded and disappeared into the corridor to find Sol.

  Silently, Nev stooped over the console. Her fingers began to fly over the touchscreen, tapping out a language completely opaque to David. He thought better than to interrupt her. The console responded to the touch of her fingers with a few soft beeps, and then, it went dark.

  “Done,” Nev said. “I recoded the protocol. It won’t recognize Flint Immortal genesignals.”

  David nodded mutely. He was still too stunned from the events of the last few minutes to speak. Nev straightened up from the console and indicated Dagmar’s body with a jerk of her chin.

  “Toggle her,” she said quietly.

  “What?” David said. It was the first syllable he’d uttered since they entered the vault.

  “We have to. We can’t just leave her body here to be discovered by the Warped Immortals.”

  She had a point. David raised the barrel of the biotoggler and aimed it at Dagmar. It was only then that he realized his hand was shaking violently.

  Nev noticed too. She stepped softly over to David and wrapped both of her hands around his to steady him. The vibration in David’s chest reached a fever pitch. He fired the biotoggler, then looked away as Dagmar’s body disappeared from the world.

  As David looked away from Dagmar, his eyes locked with Nev’s. His whole chest seemed to swell and dip, like roiling waves on the ocean. Suddenly, David heard Malcolm’s voice in his mind, as clearly as if Malcolm were in the vault with them.

  “I felt something change in my body when I found my ethos,” his son’s voice said. “And you will, too.”

  “Nev,” David breathed, no more able to keep silent than to quiet the sensation in his chest. “You are … You make me …”

  He didn’t know how to continue. He didn’t know what to say. But in that moment, David knew that he had fallen in love with her.

  ol, Tezzlee, Nev, and David approached the Detroit wall at a confident pace, heads held high.

  “Let me do the talking,” Nev murmured to the others.

  They had no idea where in the Bereft market Brendle and Anksyr had stashed the wooden pushcart with its produce and pig, and they couldn’t risk the time it would take to search for it. They had no choice but to leave the city empty handed, hoping that this wouldn’t trigger suspicion among the Warped Immortal guards at the gate.

  They needn’t have worried.

  As they approached, a Warped Immortal in black fatigues sauntered over to them, his gait so casual that the long barrel of his biotoggler swung loosely from his shoulder with each step.

  “Finishing a trading visit?” His gaze fell somewhere to the right of Nev’s ear. By this time, David had become used to this among the Warped Immortals: they were, for the most part, so bored by the Bereft that they talked through them or past them.

  “Yes,” Nev said, making a gesture toward her front shirt pocket to pull out the agricultural pass.

  The Warped Immortal shook his head. “I don’t need to see your pass,” he said. “It’ll take too long to check you all out.”

  David felt an ill-advised impulse to laugh. At this point, the Warped Immortal aversion to bureaucracy was becoming downright ridiculous. They had, just as Malcolm predicted, managed to undermine the defenses of the entire city simply because the Warped Immortals were too prejudiced to even consider the possibility that Bereft traders might be a threat.

&n
bsp; The guard sighed with almost comic tedium. “What were you trading?”

  “Produce,” Nev said. She was well versed in misleading authority; she stuck easily to the tried-and-true rule of saying no more than absolutely necessary.

  For the first time, the Warped Immortal trained his eyes on the members of the group, looking from one to the other and then back to Nev. “Nothing to declare on your way out?” he asked.

  “Nope!” Nev said brightly. “We had a lucky day—managed to unload all our goods.”

  “Well, good for you,” the Warped Immortal said, already turning away from them. Bereft business successes were evidently not of interest to him. He strolled away toward a cluster of other guards near the opening of the gate, his biotoggler bouncing against his hip.

  The four of them picked up their pace and walked through the gate. There was no reason to waste any time: at dusk, the central market in the Detroit Bereft Quadrant would shut down, and its traders would pack up their stands. The pushcart, wherever it was, would be left alone and conspicuous in the street, and it wouldn’t be long before someone discovered the seven biotogglers nestled into its base. They needed to be well clear of the city before that happened.

  The two-mile walk back to the hidden glider passed in silence. All of them were too shaken by Brendle’s treachery and the loss of Dagmar and Anksyr to be chatty. And David had more on his mind than just that. His whole body was alive with a strange, vibrating sensation. It was as if discovering his love for Nev had shifted something real in his biology. And beyond that very physical, palpable sensation, there was also the vaguer thrum of anxiety. He had no idea if he should confess his feelings to Nev.

  After all, they were colleagues. More than colleagues: They were on a life-jeopardizing mission together. What could he be thinking by mixing business and pleasure so ridiculously? His only explanation was that he wasn’t thinking. Some insurmountable biological impulse was driving him.

  The pulsing around his heart was not imaginary. Falling for Nev had ignited something real within him; it had changed him, changed his very cells. He couldn’t ignore it if he tried.

  The glider slid noiselessly into the private parking deck below Flint City Hall. A few stray branches and leaves still clung to its outer dome; the Bereft unit had had to tear away the camouflaging vines with their bare hands without Brendle’s knowledge of how to manipulate organic material. They were in such a hurry that they had ripped away only enough of the foliage to permit Nev to navigate the glider.

  As they pulled up, Malcolm was already waiting for them, flanked by two other Immortals, Councilor Floyd and a woman David didn’t recognize. Malcolm raised one bemused eyebrow at the sight of the glider, but made no other comment. He and David had been in communication via the glider’s wireless system, and he already knew the details of the ordeal the Bereft unit had been through. He wasn’t about to give them a hard time for failing to return their borrowed glider in mint condition.

  “This is Councilor Kashay,” Malcolm said, indicating the Immortal woman beside him. David was surprised to see that, although her face was otherwise smooth, she had a small constellation of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. Since she was a councilor, there was no chance that she was Bereft; she had to be, then, one of the rare Immortals who found their ethos later in life. Again, David was acutely aware of the pulsing sensation in his chest. Could this be what was happening to him? Had he found his ethos?

  There was no time to pause and consider. Malcolm was already leading the group down a long corridor toward the State Room, an internal, windowless room in the basement of City Hall where he held strategic meetings.

  As they walked, Malcolm spoke.

  “I want to launch the offensive immediately. There’s no telling when the Warped Immortals will discover that their bioshield has been compromised, so we have to strike fast. We’ll coordinate two fronts: one by air, which I’ll lead with the assistance of Councilor Floyd, and a second by land, led by Councilor Kashay.”

  “Chancellor,” Nev’s voice cut in. Both Councilor Floyd and Councilor Kashay looked at her, startled. She had by this time earned both Malcolm’s respect and trust, but nevertheless, it was bold of her to interrupt him mid-thought.

  “Chancellor,” she said again, “David and I have some concerns. We mentioned them briefly over the wireless, but we think they should be thought through more carefully before the offensive goes forward.”

  Malcolm held up a warning hand. “I’ve heard your concerns, and I don’t share them,” he said tersely.

  The humming in David’s chest intensified as he saw his son and his love in conflict. On impulse, before he had time to weigh the decision, he jumped to Nev’s defense.

  “Nev is right,” he said. “I think it’s important that you hear more about the intelligence we’ve gathered before you act, Malcolm.”

  Malcolm whirled suddenly on his heel and came face to face with David. At five feet eleven, David wasn’t exactly short—but Malcolm towered over him at six feet three. His eyes narrowed, and he pierced David with a steady look.

  “Commander David,” he said lowly, deliberately, “you will address me as Chancellor.”

  David felt as if his footing were coming out from underneath him. He had let himself forget, however briefly, that no one in Ethos knew that Malcolm was his son. It had to be that way; it would be too destabilizing now, at this dangerous time, for Malcolm to have to explain to his constituents that he was from another time. Still, feeling himself chastised by his teenage son was almost more than David could stomach.

  He gritted his teeth and held Malcolm’s gaze.

  “Of course, Chancellor,” he said out loud, but everything in his expression telegraphed the message, “We’ll have more words about this later, young man.”

  Malcolm continued to look at David defiantly for another moment, then he turned and moved briskly down the corridor. David could almost feel the Immortal Councilors exhale a sigh of relief. He had crossed a line no other Bereft would have survived.

  But David wasn’t about to stop there.

  “Chancellor, you need to understand that the situation in Detroit isn’t quite as we imagined,” he continued, as if the moment of tension between himself and Malcolm had not even happened. “Commander Nev and I got the distinct impression that the Warped Immortals are not hostile to Flint. In fact, we did not observe any evidence of particularly negative ethea among them.” David deliberately, consciously, used the technical Greek plural of “ethos” to telegraph that he had done his research; he could now navigate Ethos just as adroitly as his son.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Malcolm said evenly. “Why would they put their intentions on display? They operate by underhanded means. I have heard your concerns, Commander David, but they are naïve. We have known the Warped Immortals to be an imminent threat to Flint for some time, and if we don’t act now, that threat will be realized. If we do act now, we could eliminate violent hostility between humans for the first time in the history of the planet.”

  He turned and gave David a pointed look. “This is not a discussion; the decision is made.”

  As Malcolm looked at him, David was conscious of the sensation in his chest—the same sensation he felt when he was near Nev—thrumming strong and clear. He was about to speak, but the pulsing in his chest rose so suddenly that it silenced him. He felt as if his heart were squeezed and the muscles around it vibrating. He couldn’t speak and felt himself gasping for breath.

  A flicker of impatience passed across Malcolm’s face. He had heard David’s sharp intake of air and seemed to take this as an indication that David was about to speak, to defy him again.

  “Commander David,” he said sharply, “you are on very shaky ground. We are in the midst of a crisis, and I don’t have time for your insubordination.” His eyes darted from David to Nev and Councilors Floyd and Kashay. They were all watching with tense expressions.

  “Come with me,” Malcolm said to David. �
�We will speak privately.”

  With that, he turned and led David down the corridor, leaving the others standing awkwardly in their wake.

  The moment the heat-activated door of the State Room slid closed behind them, David lurched forward and grabbed Malcolm by the shoulder.

  “Something’s happening to me, Malcolm,” he gasped. He put a hand to his chest, where his heart was visibly pounding through his shirt. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

  Malcolm’s expression, which had been hardened and ready for an altercation with his father, instantly softened. He put out his hands and gripped David by the shoulders, peering intently into his face.

  “Dad?” Malcolm said, giving David a little shake. “Dad, can you hear me?”

  David was sweating and his knees had grown weak underneath him. He sagged against Malcolm.

  “I—I—” He gasped, but was unable to speak further. His whole torso seemed to have caught fire. It was the same sensation he had felt in the vault with Nev. He could not pay attention to anything else; it held him entirely in its grip.

  And then, quite suddenly, the pulsing slowed.

  David found himself blinking at Malcolm, stunned.

  “Dad, what happened? What is it?” Malcolm asked, his face tight with concern.

  But David was only halfway with him. His mind was rushing backward, to that sunny morning he had spent with Malcolm in the kitchen, back in 2024, hearing Malcolm explain the ways of the Ethosian world and immortality. Once again, he heard Malcolm’s voice echoing in his head: “I felt it in my whole body the moment the realization hit me—it was like a surge of heat or blood or something, running through my arms and legs. And I knew I had an ethos, and I was an Immortal.”

  “Malcolm,” David said urgently. “Malcolm, I have an ethos.”

  Malcolm’s eyes narrowed, and he peered intently at his father, waiting.

  “I know what it is, as surely as I know I’m standing in this room with you,” David said. “My ethos is love. For you. And for—for Nev.”