Page 25 of Inceptive (Ingenious #3)

25

WILL

S hops were boarded up. Food vendors were absent. Pedestrians picked through heaps of garbage on the streets. Armbands seemed to be a classification.

They walked to the east side where the two derelict cargo ships that had drifted to the Island were docked in parallel slots. The ships housed thousands of Islanders. A crane moving a stack of storage containers blocked his view of the smaller ship in the second slot. As he approached the larger ship, the changes shocked him. A wire screen stretched from the top deck to the lower deck. Faces with sightless eyes pressed against the screen.

The crane swung a storage container over the ship’s landing roof. Bodies—some with limbs moving—were dumped into a huge garbage bin. Fans blew the stench toward the sea.

“That ship houses infected exhibiting final stages,” Elliston said.

“When did this happen?” Will’s tears spilled for decent people herded like rats and exterminated.

“Before you faked your death, thousands had been complaining of fatigue, depression, inability to concentrate on tasks. The usual complaints of miserable overcrowding, but suspicions flared when it started affecting citizens of higher rank. To prevent riots, your father silenced rumors and established wards on the ships to hide patients in advanced stages. The numbers exploded after the bridge closed.”

“Has the cause been identified?” The misery he beheld overwhelmed Will.

“The archives described the creation of a protein in the Arctic Sanctuary designed to kill humans. It was scheduled for destruction. Yet two thousand years later, it arrived here, and it’s contaminating all food, water, and surfaces. With each ingestion, the infection worsens.”

“T-take me to my f-father.” His voice cracked.

They walked around the crane to the slot of the smaller ship. The slot was vacant.

“The viceroy, your father, ordered the ship to be towed to sea and incinerated. We lost ten thousand people in the late stage.”

“Burned alive?”

“In seconds. Painless. The victims understood their fate and agreed to die. Your father was one of them. Before his mind declined, he named me and the leading researchers to receive blood transfusions from the hospitalized patients from Fort Hope. I know it’s not a cure. We’re prepared to invade Fort Hope. Those squatters finally have a reason for their creation.”

Will clapped his shackled hands over his face. “I can’t… I’m not ready to take over…”

“We’re under martial law, and I’m the general in charge. Medics will determine how advanced your stage is. You’re to receive the first transfusion from a blood slave, then assume your father’s title. Charges against you will be dropped, and your behavior will be attributed to the symptoms of the protein.”

“How long before you order the second ship incinerated.”

“We’ll set it adrift to sink. We must save the fuel for weapons, because there will definitely be a civil war to determine who receives treatment.”

Stall… stall… stall… until Zach is miles away.

Will bit back the grief of losing his father and making sense of the future.

“Do those squatters trust you, Will? The farmer who bought you was a major landowner. Can you reason with him to surrender peacefully?”

“Don’t you mean to negotiate donations?”

“No. Total surrender. We’ll set up a clinic in their town. Make them comfortable. Treat them humanely. After all, a healthy, well-fed donor will live longer.”

“What happened to Zach’s cousin, Riley?”

“Riley died of organ failure from trials of marrow transplants to accelerate blood replacement. A squatter’s perfect organ system resists genetic tampering. However, labs have learned how to grow their bone marrow in a cellular broth and collect the T cells to add to artificial blood. This artificial blood purges a protein from its receptor as efficiently as a donor’s fresh blood transfusion. But like a sourdough starter, the broth requires refreshing with a donor’s blood, or optimally, with the bone marrow.”

Elliston sounded as if they were cannibalizing Zach’s people.

A guard rolled a wheelchair toward Will.

What the…? His nape stung, then his cheeks numbed. Hands placed him in the wheelchair.

“It’s a truth serum. You’re confused and grieving. I need honest, quick replies unhampered by emotions.”

The serum wore off, leaving Will with a thick tongue, headache, and scratchy throat from hours of questioning. What all had he babbled? Oh yeah. Intimate details of his rut. Harsh isolation, primitive lifestyles… pteryox, yellow mud… how Dante saved his life and introduced him and Zach to the sanctuary. The rambling about Dante had annoyed Elliston, who’d believed they were hallucinations. He’d slapped him to stop the disassociation from reality and had injected more serum to extract facts.

The rude interrogation had stuttered to a halt when his description of the warning about the protein created in the Arctic Sanctuary matched the warning stored in the Island’s archives. Since Will had no access to that section of the archives, he’d actually located the headquarters of the Carolina Sanctuary inside the middle of the basin’s wall, and its guardian, Dante, was programmed with a mandate to support the Islanders.

Convinced that Will was answering truthfully, Elliston had applied cold packs to Will’s swollen face. Though the relentless questioning continued, the tone was respectful, with gentle coaxing instead of slapping.

A straw nudged Will’s split lip. He turned his head, wary of more drugs.

“It’s nutrient water.” Elliston lifted Will’s head and eased the straw into his mouth. “It’s contaminated but drink up. Apparently, you’re totally immune to the protein a couple of years.” He fluffed the pillow and unstrapped Will’s wrists from the bed rail.

Will sipped slowly, his consciousness surfacing through the weird fuzz controlling his mind. The other men had departed. He was alone with Elliston in his old room, left unchanged since his staged fall.

“My God, you found the sanctuary.” Elliston set aside the cup. “When you’d rambled about it, I feared I’d have to brand your beautiful face with an X for late stage. But your mind’s intact. When we stopped accusing you of lying, you cooperated wonderfully under questioning. You clearly resented marrying me before experiencing delights with more partners.” He chuckled without humor. “I erased that confession before letting in medical and engineering personnel to interrogate you. I blame your second rut on the forced proximity with your owner. You’re forgiven. How amusing that he wasn’t immune to your rut. By earning his trust, you smuggled in Dante’s power coils. The ancestors designed the coils to align our broken grid with the rampart and siphon the power stored in it.”

Huh? Will winced at twinges inside his head that felt as if a line of sutures had popped and opened a wound. Dante’s words spilled out crystal clear. The grenades are fake. They contain power coils to install into the grid and realign it with the rampart. The lining in your backpack has instructions, and technical language has been implanted in your mind. A chip with that information would corrupt when you crossed the bridge. Once the grid has aligned, the coastal water will settle, and chips can cross without being corrupted. Tell your father the coils will supply the power to raise a clean barrier isle next to the Trading Post to raise crops. Inside the seams of your backpack are capsules of spores of moss for a ground cover to substitute for dirt. The Cinders have buried bags of special seeds and more capsules at the rest stations for clean crops. Tell your father to incinerate the farms inside the basin, then inside the rampart. He must build agri-platforms and dams to collect the rains. Without clean food, the protein will continue infecting Islanders. This is the only way to save both the Islanders and my creations from extinction. If luck isn’t with you—improvise.

Will suspected the words and data were slipped into induced dreams when he was in the hospital. Had Dante implanted dreams in Zach?

Elliston laughed with genuine humor. “Thanks for warning us that the squatters have masks and diffusers. We’ll use the coils to assemble stunners and sonic cannons to knock them out. Since squatters would rather let Islanders die than donate blood, I have no reservations in rounding them up like a herd of wild marsh ponies. A pity they have low fertility. The lab will have to design a breeding program. When our older population of skilled Islanders have received transfusions, they’ll follow Dante’s plan and raise a barrier island. Island children accumulate little protein. Puberty alters receptors to attract it. I decreed that no one under twenty-three may receive a transfusion, unless they have joined the militia.”

Elliston was setting up a ruthless military regime. Will licked his dry lips. “How long before the coils are installed?”

“They’re already installed, and the grid is smoothly siphoning energy from the rampart, which has two thousand years of untapped power from the ocean waves. My soldiers will capture the squatters before they reach the tunnel and incapacitate them with stunners. Then they’ll load them in a fleet of makeshift transports to be taken to the transfusion tents in town. When the basin’s farmers open the tunnel’s gate, the soldiers will greet them with gas grenades. Later, the settlers hiding in the caverns will be harvested. Thank you, for telling us about the caverns.”

“Using them as blood slaves is inhumane,” Will protested.

“They aren’t true humans. They’re Dante’s creations, and they’d have let our people rot to death while they locked themselves in the basin, heedless of our cries for help.” Elliston beamed at him. “You’re the hero of the Island Federation. The new viceroy entrusted by the sanctuary’s guardian with the code to disarm the tunnel’s entry shield and lasers that Dante activated before you and Zach escaped. Dante gave you and Zach the codes and authorization to pass through the shield.”

What… the… fuck? Had his mind gone wonky?

“You do remember the code, right? Because you convulsed when we tried to pull it out of you. Dante buried it under layers of shallow memories to prevent the steam lodge from pulling it from you if you were unable to escape being questioned by Mayor Astrid. But it also prevented me from extracting the code.”

Will was unsure if he was awake or dreaming. Dante and the serum had messed up his mind. Code? Lasers? Secret entry shield? Maybe Elliston’s slapping had blown Will’s brain lobes.

“Will… if you can’t recall the code to lift the shield, the rim’s defense lasers will target our militia if they approach the tunnel. We can capture the wagons on the main road, but without you to disarm the shield, we can’t capture the farmers in the basin when they open the gate. Dante authorized you to step through the shield without triggering the lasers, then you can enter the code to lower the shield.”

Will gaped at him. “I…I…” There weren’t any defense lasers. He remembered asking Dante. Or had he asked? “Stop… Please stop… Everything’s blurring.”

Elliston called for a medic to inject a higher dose of serum and was told the dose could kill the new viceroy. “Then I’ll inject it and accept the consequences,” Elliston snarled at him.

Will had to improvise. “Zach’s birthdate arms it. My birthdate disarms it,” he blurted. He knew there were no lasers or shield. Dante had planted a simple lie to delay an attack if the Islanders used the coils for weaponry. But the rest was up to Will’s imagination.

“Is that all that’s needed to disarm the shield?” Elliston tapped information into a tablet.

Stall. Stall. Stall. “Um… no.” Think. Think. Think. “I have to be standing in front of the keypad when I speak the code, and it’s located deep inside the tunnel.” He braced for a sting of serum because his cracking voice sounded unsure.

Yet Elliston believed him. “Splendid. You said the wagons need four full days to reach the tunnel. Our vehicles can cover the distance in an hour. This gives us extra time to erect tents for transfusions. We’ll leave in two days and catch them on the road.”

The medic checked Will’s vitals and pupils and declared him ready to leave with the militia in two days.

The two days of preparations stretched to four.

The mudslide blocking the rampart’s gate had hardened into stone that required laser drills three days to break it apart without damaging the frame of the gate. Breaking the frame risked energy leaking from the rampart and disrupting the siphoning. Soldiers had scrambled over the rampart and used binoculars to track the progress of the wagons. They happily reported the pace was slowing each day.

Now that the coastal water had settled, Will searched the sky for Belle, hoping she would discover it was safe to visit him. However, there was nothing he could do to give Zach more time. Even if Zach blocked the main road with overturned wagons, the lead truck was rigged to sweep aside any object in its path.

Will had begged Elliston to show compassion for Fort Hope. The deputy viceroy responded by escorting him to the cargo ship where bins of dying were stacked.

“Those are our people, Will. From privileged to poor, from classmates to street vendors, from merchants to servants. And they are dying because Fort Hope has no compassion or forgiveness for the deeds of our ancestors.”

Will stiffened his spine. He knew what must be done to save his people.

The morning of day four, the convoy of flatbed trucks, buses, and mobile tripods rolled through the gate. The wagons were a half-day from the tunnel and their pace was slowing from fatigue.

Elliston gloated to Will that in less than an hour the militia would close the distance, stun the exhausted squatters, then haul them back to town in the buses and flatbeds. It would take several round trips to collect them, but by this afternoon, the majority would be shackled, sedated, and prepped for transfusions.

Will rode near the front of the convoy in an open-backed truck with a sonic cannon mounted atop the armored cab.

The soldiers, a mix of young men and women in drab green uniforms, carried stun rifles and had little experience on how to sight and fire them—as demonstrated when the first road trap was triggered. The lead truck had rolled over a dip in the road and crushed gourds filled with a toxic vapor. The truck following it had overturned when the driver inhaled the vapor coming through the open windows. As the soldiers jumped from the back, those with the safety off had fired rounds at each other as their bodies convulsed.

Fort Hope had delivered the first casualties.

Islanders all their lives, these young soldiers had never been inside the rampart. Surveying the lush fields had brought tears and cheers. This land belonged to them, and because of the stubborn subhumans, a swamp that could’ve been converted to farmland had welcomed the pteryox.

After the casualties, tears dried and hands tightened on the hilts of the stunners. Mouths thinned with resolve.

The soldiers would show no mercy and carry out the mission without guilt.

Elliston oversaw the operation from the safety of a tent outside of town. He’d cursed the accidents and shouted into a communication device to shove the truck off the road and keep moving and protect their viceroy. The truck weighed tons and straddled the road. Without equipment, the soldiers spent hours physically shoving it off the road.

The soldiers who’d scoffed at wearing gas masks fumbled them on. Had the laser drilling not used up the surplus energy from siphoning the rampart, engineers could have supplied the militia with long-ranged stunners to stop the wagons. The sonic cannons, while powerful, were for short distances.

Will hid a smile as the last wagon entered the tunnel before the convoy was within firing distance. Zach was aware of being chased, because the wagons had sped up while the soldiers struggled with the overturned truck.

If the basin’s gate was closed, the wagons would still be stuck behind the first loads dropped off. Once Zach had his people inside the basin, with the gate locked behind them, they were safe for years. Now he understood why Dante planted the lie of an energy shield. The militia was afraid of drawing fire from lasers on the rim.

Belle was supposed to be helping Zach by flying back and forth to tell him the water level in the basin. She didn’t know Will rode in the convoy.

A hundred yards from the entrance, the convoy stopped. Soldiers leaped out and assembled tripods for laser rifles. Half the tripods tipped over.

The driver saluted him. “Good luck, Your Excellency.”

Well, damn. Will was the contingency plan. Time to improvise. Will guessed he should quit staring at the windshield and get out. Soldiers saluted him as he walked toward the dark tunnel.

Will worried that archers guarded the entrance. He removed his mask so they’d recognize him. Sweat dripped down his face. He’d refused to wear his father’s formal blue uniform with gold braid and wore the overalls and undershirt that he’d had on when he’d said goodbye to Zach. He wore a holstered stunner to defend himself. Was the safety on or off? He’d probably shoot his foot if he drew the gun.

How could he live with himself if he condemned Zach to a breeding farm for blood slaves? To know Zach would be fed to a cell broth when his body withered?

A cold clarity suddenly washed over Will. He knew Dante had foreseen this moment if the bridge opened early . It’s why the idea of a shield was planted in his mind.

Will was a music and performance major, not a soldier. Wit was his weapon.

He must convince the soldiers that a shield existed. He’d already convinced Elliston that the keypad was at the end of the tunnel, and Will would tell Zach that a real cure was available, and there was no need to hide. As the news was passed around, Will would jump in front of the keypad and call out his birthdate. The soldiers would see a colorful shimmer when the shield was being deactivated. Before firing the sonic cannon, they’d give Will time to plug his ears and hit the floor.

Elliston had agreed with the ruse, praising his bravery and loyalty to the Island Federation. “For the sake of our people—lie!” Elliston might wait a few hours for the shimmer, but eventually he’d test the presence of a shield by ordering a soldier to walk through the entry.

And then the sonic cannon would blast away.

But before the blasts ricocheted against the walls, Will would have warned Zach to build a blockade to diffuse the shock waves and hide the people under upended wagons with their ears plugged. But those poor ponies—damn. If the gate had opened, he’d tell Zach to abandon all belongings and just get the fuck out.