“Kill the traitor.”
The weapon is cold and ugly in my hands. The weight is surprising. It pulls with the gravity of murdered souls.
I look at Jack.
His face is calm, his eyes piercing. He knows the separation from the Sovereign’s signal would reveal the complete truth, including his own terrible actions. In his face I see the confirmation of his misdeeds, mingled with regret and determination.
Determination to pay for the lives he has taken.
What you and I will have to do will be the hardest…
He knew. He knew the only way to gain the trust of the Sovereign would be an act of calculated ruthlessness. How could they ever question my loyalty if I put to death an insidious traitor and possible leader of the Coalition?
“Are you having second thoughts, SVR?” Ursula’s voice slices like heated razors. The soldiers in the room stare at me and Butcher tenses at my side.
“None, Madam Lieutenant.” I raise the firearm and step forward, aiming at Jack’s forehead. His eyes meet mine steadily, filled with pain and steely resolve. I see my wife and son dead at his feet. I see him in front of me. He is the same man, but he is a different man. He is prepared to die for me. For the cause he convinced me to believe in.
Are you willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that task?
There is no turning back. No retreat. All is in vain if I falter; an entire movement dies if I fall short. There is nothing I can do except finish what we started.
A storm of emotions erupts as I pull the trigger. The muzzle flashes, and thunder reverberates as Ursula’s soft, mocking laughter drenches me like heavy rain.
Chapter 9
Jack is dead. His sacrifice was the final lesson, the last hurdle for my mind to overcome before the walls of indoctrination crumble to dust. I stare in the mirror, wondering if he saw the same haunted look on his face as he steeled himself for what was coming. Jack had been a murderer, a willing participant in the slavery of mind and soul. He had been the worst kind of man, the one willing to ignore the cries of the oppressed simply because he could not bring himself to care.
He had also organized a rebellion to bring all he previously believed in to ashes.
I button up the coat of my Agent uniform as the Smiling Man mouths silently in the background. I do not know if it is the machination in my ear or my newfound willpower that shuts him out. All that matters is the needling voice of the Sovereign can no longer affect me.
My promotion will be celebrated at the Chancellor’s Ball, an occasion made more special as it celebrates the end of the Coalition. Their leaders await execution, their mole rooted from our midst.
And I am the one who made it possible.
I comb my hair so every strand is perfect. My uniform is pressed, the buttons polished. I look the paragon of what the Sovereign Empire represents. It takes great effort to keep my face neutral. I finally understand why Jack could smile, even in the face of oppression and death. It was the one thing that could not be taken from him. I know how he felt, the sensation of invincibility under the mask of compliance.
I understand because at long last I am ready. In my former state I could never stand up under such pressure. But after sleepwalking for so long, I finally have awakened.
And I know what I have to do.
The ballroom is a grandiose exercise in overindulgence. The chandeliers hover over us like glittering stars, grand paintings hang from the walls, and every table overflows with succulent food and bubbling champagne. The most influential members of the Empire are present, mingling with upside-down frowns on their faces while they imagine the alcohol can mask their contempt of one another.
The Chancellor lounges like a king of old in an imposing chair of engraved steel embossed with the Dog of War emblem. He is tall and powerfully built; dark eyes glint like wet coal from his chiseled face. His head is shaved bald as if to deny the vanity of hair. His uniform is ceremoniaclass="underline" fringed shoulders and stacks of medals earned by betrayal and enslavement.
It is only when my inner ear tingles that I realize how powerful the propaganda machines are in this place. The signal is practically overwhelming; the very walls whisper the mantra to the subconscious: Silence is essential. Question nothing. Obey everything…
When my brain reroutes itself, I see things for how they truly are. The ballroom is standard at best; a worn building which carries only a shadow of its former majesty. The Chancellor is an old man, sinking into a crumpled uniform too large for him. His face is a map of creases and crags which sag downward from the gravity of a lifetime of scowling. His baleful stare encompasses the entire ballroom, hating everything as he surveys the procession from the dais like an enormous vulture waiting for the fall of man.
Ursula brings me forward to announce my deeds in service to the glory of the Empire. I am applauded as I accept my promotion and given what I have been waiting for: my access card and service pistol. I keep my eyes and smile vacant as I shake hands and take pictures. I speak to the empty vessels, accepting their counterfeit congratulations while inside I weep for the dead. For my family, who died because I dared to resist. And for the man who killed them, because he dared to become a better man.
“Dance with me.”
Ursula looks more feminine than I have ever seen her. Though her evening attire is still in military fashion, she is more relaxed tonight. The light of victory shines brightly on her, softening her features into something ethereal.
We float across the ballroom floor with all eyes upon us. Eyes that burn with envy and spite behind painted smiles and cheerful masks. My success is at the price of so many failures, and many resent my newfound favor. I am suddenly aware of how fragile the Empire’s epicenter is, so full of brittle alliances eroded by the winds of betrayal and guilt.
“How does it feel to be the man of the hour?” Ursula’s eyes are shadowy magnets, pulling my gaze into the darkness of her soul.
“I am honored, of course.”
She smiles. “We were all so worried about you. Worried our experiment might fail. But you have proved everyone wrong. We can go as far as we want, Franklin. All doors are open for us to ascend to the very pinnacle of the Sovereign Empire.”
I almost stumble. “You say ‘us’ as if…”
Her smile widens. “Yes, Franklin. You are more than just a personal project. You intrigue me. There is much we can do if you are willing to drop this façade of blind obedience. I can see the ambition that burns in your eyes. I want you to show me what you’re made of. We could work together in a much more intimate manner, Franklin. Like we did before everything changed.”
I let the seductive words mist around me for a moment, aware of the precariousness of the situation. The band plays on, and my feet move in concert with Ursula’s as though we have done this many times before.
“I’d like that, Madam Lieutenant. You understand the need for discretion when one is trying to prove oneself.”
“Indeed I do. But you have the favor of the Sovereign now, Franklin. And with me to guide you, you will be a very important man again. You can change things, Franklin. You can save this Empire from the decadence and corruption that has nearly destroyed it.”
My mind reels. “I…wasn’t aware the Sovereign needed saving.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t play me for a fool, Franklin. You always were critical of the Sovereign’s more controversial practices. That was why you organized this resistance, the Coalition. The Chancellor had no choice but to put you under the same rehabilitation program you so strongly opposed. Indoctrination.”
The memory returns so strongly that my eyes practically glaze over. My swift and brilliant rise in the ranks of the Sovereign to the elite circle who worked directly with the Chancellor to direct the Empire’s dominion. My arguments with the Sovereign Council, and the reprimands that followed. The private warnings from my closest friend, Jack Kilgore. The many nights I betrayed my wife while submerging into the creamy softness of Ursula’s supple body…