Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (20 page)

IT’S OFFICIAL

In a shock announcement yesterday, Mr and Mrs Marsden revealed they have begun the legal process to disown their second son, the fugitive Blake Marsden, known as Bane, wanted on charges of Sedition: Category 1, Murder: 1st Degree, 5 counts of Assault causing actual Grievous Bodily Harm, Theft on a Grand Scale, Multiple Abduction, Destruction of Public Property and Escaping from EuroBloc Custody.

Bane – believed to be responsible for the string of so-called ‘Liberations’ which took place in December – currently bears the full name of Blake Mitchell ~Marsden, but, “As soon as the paperwork goes through, it’ll be official,” Mr Marsden told us. “He won’t be entitled to use either of our names any more.”

“It’ll be rather a relief, to be honest,” said Mrs Marsden. “We’ll be able to put that whole chapter of our lives behind us.”

“He never was any good,” said Eliot Marsden, their first – soon to be, legally, their only – son. “We’re well shot of him.”

Lawyers have confirmed that once the Disownment is complete, Bane will no longer legally be able to use either his paternal surname – Marsden, or his maternal surname – Mitchell. On official documents, his name will be Blake BLANK~BLANK.

***+***

18

SAFETY IN NUMBERS

“I don’t believe it!” I gasped. “How could they!”

“I’m guessing they’ve heard about the EuroGov’s letter,” said Jon grimly. “They’re probably scared spitless.”

“No one in their right mind would try to blackmail Bane with his parents,” snorted Kyle. “Anyway, what on earth could they get the Marsdens for?”

“You know they’ll manufacture evidence when they really want to,” I said. “Bane’s parents would actually be pretty easy targets. They’re that squeaky clean no one likes them.”

Kyle pulled a face.

“True.”

“We can’t keep this from Bane.”

“Oh, I suppose not,” sighed Kyle. “S’just... I know he’s still not that well. Committee always leaves at about three when he can’t keep his eyes open any more... Well, you know that.”

I headed back towards the stairs, still clutching the paper.

“Let’s get up there before someone else does. Break it gently.”

I knocked on the door and waited for Bane’s ‘come in’ – he was already sitting up in bed and the nurse who came to help him wash and dress had left.

He gave me a puzzled look.

“Didn’t drop off, did I? Could’ve sworn I only just heard you going down... Margo? Everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Bane.” I went to sit on the bed. “S’just... well, your parents... they’ve... done something rather horrible.”

He frowned slightly.

“Like they’re going to do anything
nice
.” He spotted the paper in my hands. “Said some nasty things about me, have they?”

“Well... it’s a little
more
than...”

Bane extracted the paper from my reluctant grasp and straightened it out impatiently.

From the way his eyes kept darting back to the beginning of the first sentence, he had to read it at least three times before it sunk in. He finally managed to read the article to the end, then he went right back and read it again. Then sat, staring at it. I’d rarely seen him so shocked.

“They’re terrified, Bane,” I said gently. “That must be the only reason...”

He snorted.

“Don’t lie, Margo, you’ll have to go to confession. They were probably delighted to finally have an excuse.” He stared at the article some more. ‘
Chapter?
’ he mouthed. Screwed up the paper and hurled it across the room – then winced in more physical pain.

“Careful, Bane,” I said automatically.

He wasn’t listening. “Chapter...” The thought clear as words on his face –
is that all I was?
Angrily he dashed away the glistening drops gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Pulled the wound,” he muttered. “Must be more careful...”

Kyle beat a retreat. Jon sank quietly into his usual armchair as I slipped my arms around Bane.

“I’m fine.” He made no attempt to evade the hug, though. “
Fine
. What do I care? Why would I?
Good riddance
.” Having made that clear he was happy to remain snuggled in my arms for some time.

He finally drew away, scrubbing fiercely at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Y’know, the only thing I’m really bothered about is that you’re going to be Mrs Blank. I’m sorry about that, Margo, it’s a real bugger.”

“I’m sure my parents would be happy to adopt you – as soon as they come to light, anyway,” said Jon.

“Thanks for the offer, Jon,” said Bane, “but I should probably just take both Margo’s names. Lot simpler. If you don’t mind being Mrs Verrall, Margo.”

“I shall feel like my mother,” I said lightly.

“Bane Vaux~Verrall.” He tried the name out. “Y’know, that’s actually almost as much of a mouthful as Mitchell ~Marsden. What’s with all the alliteration?”

“It’s just you two,” remarked Jon. “I’m Calder~Revan, no alliteration there.”

“No one ever uses Maternals anyway,” I pointed out.

Maternal surnames were a bit of a failed experiment. They made even the simplest surname such a mouthful that they weren’t even used on identity cards. Just birth, registration and death certificates. Nothing else. Still, they served the purpose for which they’d been introduced, giving both male and female surnames an equal chance of survival.

When people registered, the guy swapped his maternal for his wife’s – sorry, registered partner’s – and she swapped her paternal for his. So for a long time I’d assumed my full surname would eventually be Vaux~Marsden. Now it looked like it wouldn’t be changing after all.

“Seriously, Bane,” I said, “that’s fine. But if you’d prefer to choose yourself one of your own, I don’t mind. I mean, as long as it’s not like, Bane Liberator or Bane Awesome or something!”

Jon sniggered and Bane cheered up slightly at the thought of all the ridiculous names he could pick for himself.

“What?” he grinned, in mock surprise, “You don’t fancy being Mrs Margaret Marvellous?”

Later on, though, when the planning committee were at lunch and it was just the two of us, he became very serious.

“Margo, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“I’m wearing the ring already, aren’t I?” I teased, flexing the finger at him. He smiled.

“Not that. It’s, uh, it’s about the Liberations.”

“What about it? You’re nowhere near ready to go on any more yet.”

“I know. It’s just... well, it’s only a matter of time, and then... well, it’s preying on my mind a bit.”

“What is?”

He drew rather a deep breath.

“Well, I’m supposed to be the leader, right? And the leader’s supposed to be concentrating a hundred percent on the plan, and getting everyone in the team home safe, yeah?”

“Ye...es.” Suddenly knew where this was going.

“Well, I’m a rubbish leader, okay, ‘cause I haven’t been doing it at all. When we’ve been out on missions, about fifty percent of my mind has been on whether
you’re
safe, and only the other half on the mission and everyone else. And it’s only going to be worse after this.”

“Why? I wasn’t hurt.”

He poked me accurately in the arm.

“Liar,” he said when I flinched. “But the point is,
now
I’ll probably be thinking about you eighty percent of the time and that’s no good – I’ll get someone else killed that way.”

“You didn't
get
Father Mark
killed
! Don’t be an idiot!”

He shrugged, stony-faced.

“Maybe, maybe not. But the next one will probably be my fault. Margo, I want you to promise me you’ll stay here from now on. Otherwise... otherwise I’m going to resign as leader. Sister Krayj can take over permanently.”

I stared at his determined face. Okay, expecting another,
can’t you stay behind
conversation, but... not quite such an ultimatum as this.

He winced.

“Now you’re mad.”

“No. Not yet, anyway. I’m thinking.”

“Oh. That’s progress.”

I glared at him, then folded my arms on the bed and rested my chin on them. My ribs were almost better.

So. Bane wanted me to stay behind. Not news. Except now he was going for the responsible argument of – you’re a distraction, you’re endangering everyone else. Problem was, it probably
would
be even worse after this.

But I wanted to go.... Well, I
didn’t
, I’d be happy never to set foot on EuroBloc soil again – all the same, I did want to do it. So many people to be saved.

Yet... was it
really
the best use of my time?

There
were
many superior blogs and bloggers out there, but Jon was right, only I could be me. And we could empty as many Facilities as we liked, but until the system changed, it would do no good, long term. Could I in all conscience risk myself now the blog was such a success? Wasn’t like they actually
needed
me. They were upping the number of teams to twenty and Eduardo had no trouble filling the places.

And, there
was
the fact they were about to start drilling the teams for the first new mission and I’d been wondering how on earth I was going to have time for that once Bane and I were in action again.

Then there was the fact that Bane giving up his command position was probably not part of Pope Cornelius’s vision for the nonBeliever he’d praised so highly...

I didn’t like it one bit, but I’d a horrible feeling my duty was clear. One person could only do so many things – I did have to give up my active role in the Liberations.

Bane was waiting unusually patiently.

“Mad yet?” he asked, when I finally sat up and looked at him.

“No. I’ll promise you I won’t go on the raids any more. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That we get married before
you
go on any more.”

Bane eyebrows went up.

“That’s your idea of a
condition
? Sounds like a perk to me.”

“Well, that’s the deal. Happy?”

“How could I not be happy with a deal like that?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ten nights later Jon, Bane and I clustered breathlessly around Eduardo as he sat at his radio. Or whatever it was. It transmitted in ultra-secure code and was an extremely high tech bit of kit, that much I knew.

“What time is it?” asked Jon, for about the tenth time.

“Thirteen minutes past two,” said Eduardo.

“Any minute. We should hear if it’s worked any minute now…” Tonight’s plan was almost entirely Jon’s work, so he was understandably nervous.

“Calm down, Jon,” said Bane, “you’re making my insides hurt.”

“That’s not Jon,” I told him, “that’s
you
getting out of bed and going places you shouldn’t.”

“I’m fine…”

The radio-thing made a noise.

“Animal calling Central, over.”

“Central here, over.”

“Nest emptied, off to wet our feet now, over.”

“Be careful, over.”

“Meow. Animal out.”

A knot of tension eased in my chest – Jon relaxed slightly. At least one team had been successful. The radio bleeped again almost at once.

“Utensil calling Central, over...”

They were okay too. The reports poured in now, one after another.

“Vehicle calling Central, over…”

“Colour calling Central, over…”

“Shape calling Central, over...”

Eduardo didn’t relax, though, and nor did we. Not entirely. Still long hours of travel to the coast, then over the sea to the ship. And back to Gozo. Surely sooner or later it would occur to the EuroGov to beef up its naval presence in the Mediterranean? Still. A lot of water out there.

Bane nodded off after a while and almost fell out of his chair – after which we finally persuaded him to lie down on Eduardo’s couch and have a nap – was that where Eduardo normally slept? Jon and I sipped coffee and kept Eduardo company.

Such a hectic Christmas week – a hectic December, in fact. Six missions – well over four thousand lives saved – in three weeks. The teams had had a full week off after all that. Then we’d had two weeks planning and re-training.

Bane was now well enough recovered to be chafing under the inactivity. The planning committee were still meeting in his room, but we hadn’t even managed to keep him in bed tonight. He’d needed both Jon’s and Eduardo’s help to walk and was undoubtedly going to be exhausted tomorrow, but he’d been determined to be here.

At least all was going according to plan so far...

“Worked like a dream,” said Sister Krayj later the following day, when she’d caught up on her sleep a bit. “The reAssignees performed admirably in pretty much every Facility.”

“I suppose they must be well primed by now,” I remarked. “Stuff on the radio and everything.”

“Yeah. If we use a slightly different plan each time, it’s going to be hard for the EGD to counter us. Eventually, they’ll almost certainly decide to revise the entire security procedure. And that will be it. But changing everything will cost millions of Eurons, maybe more – they really, really won’t want to do it – especially since they’ll assume the new procedures will just be leaked straight to us by our source.”

No chance of that, alas.

“Margo’s got loads of messages from parents.” Jon was pretty much beaming with delight at the success. “Thanking her and everything. Some of them really indiscreet. Eduardo’s been changing the names to try and stop them getting in trouble.”

“And the newspapers can hardly hide their glee,” I said. “Everyone’s delighted the Liberations have started again.”