Harry's Sacrifice (29 page)

But the milling crowds Roshin saw on her feeds were not apathetic in the least. Not only were the soldiers left in the mess hall gathering, but so were other Alvians all over the city. They flocked to central areas to watch the recorded news from the bots she had dispatched. The
Zxerah
agents reported the progress as each piece of the story was leaked—deliberately—by Roshin through the Council’s wall of silence.

They were not in control of the information anymore. She was. With the aid of the Brotherhood. Roshin felt powerful. Like some sort of crusader for truth. It was a heady feeling. She felt as if she had an important role to play, even if she wasn’t the center of attention. Harry could keep that. Roshin had been raised among the secretive
Zxerah
. She would never be comfortable in the spotlight. She knew she did her best work behind the scenes. And she was more than content with that.

“How is it going?” Cormac spoke in a quiet voice next to her ear.

“Well. I am guiding the bots to the right people and word is getting out. The Council will not stop the free flow of information, though they put a kink in the system. We have workarounds.”

She tried to keep her voice low, but they were all standing so close. The general—he was a tactician, she knew, and a Prime—heard her words. One of his eyebrows rose as he moved slightly closer to peer over her shoulder at the datapad she held.

“You have been circumventing the Council’s halt on the data feed?” he asked, and suddenly all that attention Roshin didn’t want was focused on her. She felt very small in this enclosed space filled with overwhelmingly large men.

“Yes, sir. You know as well as I that it is unlawful to block news of this magnitude from the populace,” Cormac answered for her. Roshin loved that he rose to her defense, but she needed to be strong. She was a member of the Brotherhood, after all. She had skills these men did not know about. And friends in many hidden places.

“Sir, I am a communications specialist. It is my duty to ensure the flow of information,” she insisted, standing up for herself, though it felt good to know Cormac had her back, as the human Brethren liked to say.

The general regarded her with a steady blue, piercing gaze for a moment, but she was made of sterner stuff than a mere stare could penetrate. She stood her ground. Finally, the general nodded.

“Your role here becomes clearer. What is your designation?”

“I am Roshin 72,” she answered quickly. She did not know whether he wanted her identification to compliment her or merely to know who to arrest later. Either scenario was likely to her mind.

“She is a daughter of the
Zxerah
,” Ronin spoke up unexpectedly from behind her. The Patriarch had moved silently in the crowd to back her up as well.

When she looked behind her, not only was Ronin there, but Harry as well. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, his stern expression set on the general. Harry stood next to Cormac, slightly behind her, guarding her back.

The general looked from one man to the other over her head. “I am glad you are so thorough in your planning, Patriarch,” was all he said, though she got the impression he approved of Ronin Prime’s positioning of her in this group. He was a tactician, after all.

“It is my calling, Patton Prime.” Ronin bowed his head slightly as if in acknowledgment.

“She is also my Resonance Mate, General,” Cormac insisted on throwing in for good measure. Roshin felt her cheeks heat with a blush as every Alvian in the lift focused on her once more. Not content with that attention, Cormac took her hand in his and the Hum sounded. “Listen, brothers,” he addressed the group now. “I never dreamed I would find my mate, but I have. What was a faint tinkle before I took the gene therapy is now a loud and lovely Hum.”

“You have taken the gene therapy?” The general’s eyes narrowed on Cormac again, taking some of the attention away from Roshin, for which she was grateful, though Cormac still held her hand.

“I have,” Cormac confirmed. “It has not fully run its course yet, but already I can tell you that I would never go back. The things I feel now…”

When words failed him, it was the human major who claimed everyone’s attention with a totally different line of inquiry.

“Excuse me, but is your name really General Patton?” Major Rollins seemed hard pressed to hold back a grin, which puzzled Roshin greatly.

The Alvians were distracted by the question and the general turned to the human who stood several feet away surrounded by the rest of the group.

“I am Patton Prime, general of tactics,” the general acknowledged with a slightly puzzled expression. The humans began to laugh and the puzzlement turned to a slight indication of anger. “I do not see why my designation is humorous.”

“General.” Caleb O’Hara stepped in to save the situation. “One of the most revered generals in American history is a man named George S. Patton. He was a legend in military circles in our mid-twentieth century. If a Patton was part of Hara’s original crew, I can only assume he was somehow related to you.”

“Indeed.” Hara nodded. “Patton found his Resonance Mate and stayed behind when the rest of us went into stasis.”

The conversation ended when the lift opened. They had arrived on one of the lowest levels of the city. The area where the prisoners were kept.

Chapter Fifteen

Harry dreaded what might come next. He’d never been in the pens before, though he’d been sorely tempted to investigate many times in the past. Only the need to keep his knowledge secret from his mother and all others who would no doubt log his presence in an unauthorized area had kept him away.

That and the fear that gripped him when he thought about what these poor people had suffered. His small power of empathy meant he would feel things—horrible things—if he got too close to the humans kept in captivity. Fear of those horrors was something he wasn’t proud of, but he was human enough to admit it—at least to himself.

Grady 2 waved away the soldiers who stood guard over the entrance to the underground prison. He was a high-ranking soldier and very close to the top of his genetic line. He had a great deal of authority here—as did the rest of the officer contingent that had accompanied them all down here.

Now it was just possible that the officers remained loyal to the Council, in which case they could turn around and lock Harry and company up down here and throw away the key. But of all the scenarios that could happen, Harry thought that one unlikely. He hoped he was reading the situation correctly.

The group started walking slowly, passing by twos into the narrow corridor between cells. The cells had walls, not bars, and doors that locked from the outside. A viewport allowed anyone on the outside to look in at any area of the small room, including the personal areas like the shower and toilet facilities. Harry was disturbed by the marked lack of privacy despite the illusion of solid walls.

Hara stopped and the rest of the entourage followed suit. Hara walked beside Grady 2 at the front of the group, Percival right behind him. They seemed to discuss something before moving on again, and then Harry felt Percival’s thoughts broadcasting to everyone around who had telepathy. It was loud, strong and unequivocal.

“Do not fear. Those of you who can sense us know that there is a large party of Alvians and others walking through the cell area. We mean you no harm. In fact, we hope to free you before all is said and done. My name is Percival.”

“I’m Angela,”
a voice answered in their minds. A strong, female voice.
“You need to speak to Moira. She foresaw your arrival and has been telling us what’s to come, though she isn’t a strong telepath. Still, she’s given us all hope for the past few months and now, finally, you’re here. Bless you.”

The emotion in Angela’s words was clear. Relief, coupled with a fledgling hope. Harry started to feel better about this sojourn into the bowels of the Alvian city. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bleak as he’d feared.

“Bless you for staying strong, Angela,”
Percival said.
“I’m only sorry we couldn’t come sooner.”

“You’re here now and that’s what matters. Seek Moira. She’s our leader, if that’s the right way to put it. She’s more like our mom.”
Angela’s tone conveyed humor at the description.

“How do we find her?”
Percival asked.

“Last cell on the left. There are three people in there. Male, female and child.”
Again, there was a humorous feel to Angela’s tone and Harry puzzled over it. Apparently this Angela knew something they didn’t.

Caleb tapped Hara on the shoulder, having heard the strong telepathic communication just as Harry had. He saw some discussion take place and then Caleb led the way down the long hall to the last cell on the left. He knocked on the solid door and waited for a reply.

The Alvians seemed surprised by his polite gesture. Apparently nobody else knocked before entering a prison cell—or waited to be asked inside.

“Please enter,” came a small, high-pitched voice from the other side of the locked door. It sounded like the child.

Caleb nodded to Grady 2, who input the unlock code and the door opened silently. A young girl stood on the other side.

“Hello, Moira,” Caleb said, surprising everyone, including Harry. “I think you and I have a lot in common.”

An older male and female came up behind the child. “I’m Jose and this is my wife, Siobhan.” The man was dark skinned with black hair and brown eyes. The woman was pale with red hair and freckles. The girl was a pretty mix of both, with deep-auburn hair and light-brown eyes. These were her parents.

“Caleb O’Hara,” Caleb introduced himself, reaching over the head of the little girl to shake her father’s hand and then her mother’s.

“You’re the Oracle,” Siobhan said with a bit of awe in her voice. “Moira said you’d come, but I was afraid…” The woman broke down, tears flowing down her cheeks as she reached for her husband’s hand.

Every Alvian in the area, including Cormac, started in surprise when the loud, pure Hum of their resonance sounded through the hall.

“Breeds can Resonate with each other?” Grady 2 looked mildly puzzled and intrigued.

Jose let go of his wife’s hand and put one hand protectively on Moira’s shoulder.

“You call us Breeds, yet you don’t even know what the word means,” he sneered, clearly disgusted with Grady 2’s Alvian aloofness.

“It’s an English word. The shortened form of half-breed, which means part one thing, part another,” Moira piped up in her little, penetrating voice. “Like me. I’m part Mexican and part Irish…and part Alvian.” Her words caused a hush to fill the hallway. “As is every human you’ve imprisoned. Probably every human left alive, though there may be one or two pure-blooded humans who survived in the most remote places. We are all part Alvian. Whether you like it or not, your race has already mingled with ours. We are you and you will one day—if my visions hold true—be us. We are one.”

The little girl’s voice was spooky in the echoing hallway and it carried so that even the men crowded in behind the main party could hear. The bots were working overtime, recording silently and winging away to be replaced by others at Roshin’s command.

“You are wise beyond your years, Moira.” Caleb finally broke the silence. “I’ve foreseen the same things you have for many years. It’s the only thing that’s kept me going all these years. The knowledge that someday we would share the Earth as it was meant to be. As Hara intended.” Caleb turned to Hara and let him step forward.

The ancient went down on one knee in front of the child, meeting at her eye level, though the symbolism of his repentant stance was not lost on the gathered crowd.

“I’m sorry, little one, for everything that’s happened to you and your people.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged her little shoulders. “I’m young and I’ve been with my parents all this time, though I would’ve liked to play outside more.” Now she sounded like a little girl. “It’s the others who’ve suffered, Mr. Hara. They are the ones who need your help and understanding.”

“I know, little one. And they have it. I will do everything in my power to see that your visions become reality.” Hara bowed his head in what looked like surrender and felt to Cormac like…sorrow?

“I know you will.” The little girl reached out and patted Hara’s shoulder in a consoling, endearing way.

Hara stood and turned to face the gathering in the hallway. Tall as he was, he could be seen by most of the men who were gathered to witness the scene.

“Warriors of Alvia,” he began in a low, intense tone. “Can you stand by while innocent civilians are held prisoner, in secret, beneath your very feet? This little girl has done nothing wrong. She was born in captivity. What is her crime that she be locked up and not allowed to see the sun? For that matter, what is the crime of any of these people? Grady 2, are you familiar with the reasons this family is being held?” Hara turned to the man who stood by the dataport on the outside wall of the cell.

Grady 2 pushed a few buttons. “There is no crime listed. They are called test subjects and ordered held indefinitely by Councilor Hearn’s order.”

Hara turned back to Jose and Siobhan. “Did you volunteer to be test subjects?”

“No. Never!” Jose stated with some anger. “We were existing peacefully, eking out a living by growing crops and bartering with our neighbors in the Waste when your soldiers came and abducted us. No reason was given. We have been here for nearly fifteen years by my reckoning.”

Cormac looked at the men all around him. Many wore frowns. It was not seemly that people be abducted against their will and held indefinitely. It went against every tenet of Alvian law.

Cormac saw an opportunity. He went to the dataport on the next cell, which was conveniently nearby, and searched the record.

“This one has no crime recorded either,” he said in a loud voice. “And an indefinite sentence.”

Other soldiers got the idea to check their closest dataports. Soon, the same report was coming in all up and down the hall. The people being held in the cells had committed no crimes and could be kept forever. It went against everything that was right and just, and the honor which every Alvian soldier was pledged to uphold was suddenly on shaky ground.