It’s me, I call to her through our bond. It’s Red. Are you there?
There’s nothing but the ever-present pulse of her heartbeat, faint in the background of my mind.
Talin, I call again.
But she doesn’t answer. Of course not. There I go again, wanting the impossible. After a minute, her emotion fades away again, leaving me once more with nothing but the fragile thread of our bond.
Jeran glances back at me as we move quietly through the woods. “All good?” he signs to me.
How can it hurt more, after so many months, to feel a phantom sense of Talin and then have it taken away? How can it be worse than not hearing from her for so long?
I think about telling him this. But then the other voice in my mind turns on me, harsh and biting. It was just a trick of your mind, it says. Just the ache of Talin’s absence.
I nod and sign back, “All good.”
Jeran looks at me a beat longer, eyes searching mine, but then continues along our path.
Over the past few months, we have learned all the ways through this forest. With Adena, I practiced how to step softly enough not to disturb the leaves on the floor. From Jeran, I mastered gliding from tree to tree like—how do the Marans say it?—a breath of air. They still move more stealthily than I do, but one learns survival techniques quickly when trained by the Federation’s army.
By the time we reach a clearing overlooking the valley where Newage sits, the sunset has given way to twilight. Stars overhead are winking rapidly into existence. The train station’s construction site near Newage’s front gate is flooded with artificial light from their lamps, but otherwise, several bonfires burn across what was once the Outer City. From here, the three guard towers they’ve erected around Newage loom like pillars to the sky, casting long black lines of shadow in their wake.
A short distance away, Adena stirs in the shadows of an engine in the grass beside the tracks. She signs at Jeran and mercifully keeps her movements to what I’ve learned over the months, so I’m able to understand.
“Who’s watching the walls tonight?” she asks him.
Jeran’s gaze roams the area before he finds the uniforms he is looking for.
“Caitoman Tyrus and his patrols,” he responds to Adena in the darkness, using the new name sign we have developed to represent the Premier’s younger brother. Even though I can’t see Adena’s expression from here, I can tell from her silhouette that she winces.
My own memory of the General is of him smiling at me on the other side of the jail cell that I—a boy of fourteen—had been thrown into before I was sent to the National Laboratory and given to the Chief Architect. He’d listened to me as I begged him for the lives of my father and sister.
“And what would you be willing to do to save them?” he asked me.
“Anything, sir,” I replied in desperation.
At that, the General’s eyes widened, glinting with mischievous delight.
He ordered me taken out of my cell, then led to the prison’s courtyard, where he handed me the leash of a young goat they were about to send to the kitchens. He gave me a knife and told me what he wanted me to do to it.
So I did.
That’s what it takes to become a Federation soldier. You do what you’re told.
Afterward, when I asked him if he would now spare my father and sister, he started laughing. He laughed until he wiped a tear from his eye.
“I just wanted to see if you would do it, boy,” he called over his shoulder before walking away down the prison hall.
I swallow hard at the memory, shame filling me all over again. That is General Caitoman. I wonder what he’ll do to us if he catches us here tonight.
Adena glances to where I am hiding and signs, “You have everything I gave you?”
I nod once, my hand moving to the pouch strapped to my belt. Inside, wrapped snugly, are at least a dozen small spheres filled with chemical concoctions that Adena has stolen over the months, meant to explode when ignited. My job tonight is to place them strategically along the train tracks. The next morning, the striking of the train’s wheels rolling against the cylinders will set them aflame. One by one, they will light up in a spectacular show, damaging the track beyond repair. If done correctly, it should set the Federation back by months.
In the chaos, I’ll attack the Karensan patrols while the others work to free the prisoners in the cars. If we move quickly enough, we can get out of there before the Federation hunts us down.
Everything that happens next is about buying time.
I creep closer now, moving from the trees to the stacks of rails that tower around the construction site. Their workers have stopped for the night, leaving the area patrolled only by a couple of guards, and I can crouch in the shadows to get a good view of the train station. My eyes linger on each of the soldiers.
Seeing those scarlet uniforms always leaves me with a strange, nauseating familiarity. I can’t help but remember how that coat felt against my skin. The weight of the blades and rifles at the belt, the weary impatience at night duty. Now I find myself searching their faces, as if I might stumble across someone I once knew. Some old acquaintance.
But they are all strangers.
We wait there until the guards rotate, leaving a small window of time where no one is looking out from the guard towers. In the dark, I see a ripple of movement through the train yard as Jeran makes his way toward the closest tower to him. Even knowing that he is there, I still lose him in the shadows until I finally notice him settle into position in the shadows underneath the tower, a spot that gives him a wide view of the rest of the train yard.
Once more, something stirs in my mind, the heartbeat of someone familiar on the other end of the bridge.
I pause, frowning again. My hand comes up to rub the side of my temple.
Talin?
She can’t be in Newage. They took her to the capital months ago. But my breath still turns shallow in my chest. The wild hope stirs awake in me, and I search the grounds for a sign of her. But I see no one.
I can’t afford to waste time. With all my strength, I force away the nagging thought and turn in the direction of the station itself, then pick my way through the train yard until I’m crouched in the shadow of the nearest tower. Guards on top of Newage’s walls have their attention trained mostly on the clusters of former Maran refugees wandering around outside the gates, picking through the destruction of their former homes in the Outer City. I see two of the refugees scuffle over something they have found on the ground. Is it some precious scrap of memories? Is it shoes? I don’t know, but the incident is enough to distract nearby Karensan soldiers into heading toward them to break it up.
I don’t waste the opportunity. The moment the guards leave, I move into the shadow cast by the body of the train. There, I plant the first cylinder, tucking it underneath the wood of a track. Then I plant another, and another. The work is easy, if tedious, until the guards rotate back. When they do, I pause and hide again, my eyes turned toward Jeran’s tower for his signal.
His silhouette in the long grass is almost impossible to pick out. I stare at him for so long that I almost believe he has vanished. At last, I see his head shift subtly, followed by the faint sight of his fingers moving against the moonlight.
Anyone else would be unable to make out his signs from so far away, but I have extraordinary sight, and there against the night, I can decipher his words.