FOR A FULL MINUTE, THE peaceful bubbling of the fountain in the center of the courtyard was the only sound Marcellus could hear. For a full minute, he could almost bring himself to believe that the last hour had never happened. That he hadn’t just watched two men rip each other to pieces in a plastique prison. That he hadn’t just emptied the contents of his stomach into a planter in the middle of a weapons development complex on the enemy planet of Albion.
But then, the minute was over, and the tranquil gurgling of the fountain was disrupted by Gabriel’s frantic voice. “Can someone tell me what the fric just happened back there?”
Marcellus wiped his mouth and turned around to find Gabriel, Cerise, and Alouette all staring at him. Gabriel was looking a little queasy himself. His skin was clammy, and his eyes had gone glassy and dull.
Marcellus tried to speak. He tried to explain what they had just witnessed, but he couldn’t put it into words. And the memory of that man lying lifeless and defeated on the ground, blood trickling from the wound on his head, brought another wave of nausea.
In the end, however, it was someone else who spoke.
A voice that seemed to come from the deep, dark corners of Marcellus’s mind. A voice he had been dreading hearing since they’d landed. But a voice he knew would eventually return.
“Lady Alexander? This is certainly a surprise. I was not expecting to hear from you again so soon. Is there a problem with the delivery schedule?”
Marcellus froze as his grandfather’s voice reverberated through his skull like a war drum. The general was back in his office. Talking to the very woman who stood just on the other side of that wall. Which meant only one thing.
She knew.
Lady Alexander had witnessed Marcellus’s reaction to the demonstration, and now she knew.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” The general sounded more bewildered than angry. “We must have a bad connection, because I’m certain I misunderstood you.” He let out a low chuckle. “For a moment, I thought you said my grandson was on Albion.”
“We have to get out of here!” Marcellus shouted.
Alouette was beside him in an instant, her eyes flooded with panic. “What’s wrong?”
Marcellus’s gaze darted anxiously around the courtyard. He could make out only one exit: the way they’d come in. “My grandfather knows we’re here.”
“What?!” Cerise bellowed. “How?”
“Lady Alexander just told him.”
“You mean, she …” Alouette glanced anxiously between Marcellus and the door back to the labs.
“Yes,” he answered her half-formed question as he eyed the three-mètre high brick wall surrounding the courtyard and scanned the surface for a good foothold. “We have to get over this wall. It’s the only way out.”
“That’s impossible!” The general’s voice in his ear was louder now, but Marcellus could hear the restraint. His grandfather was trying to keep his temper in check in the face of his shiny new ally.
“It’s too high.” Cerise’s eyes tracked up to the top of the wall. “We can’t scale it.”
“Move aside, people,” Gabriel said, pushing his way past Marcellus and Alouette. “Make way. Coming through.” He interlaced his fingers together, extended his arms, and squatted down, creating a makeshift step. “Right this way.” He nodded toward Cerise with a smug expression. “Ladies first.”
For once, Cerise did not argue with him. Holding on to Gabriel’s shoulders for balance, she tucked her foot into his hands.
“I’d just like to point out, for the record,” Gabriel said with a grunt as he hoisted her up to the top of the wall, “that this was my idea, and I am helping the team with a very necessary skill.”
Cerise grabbed onto the top of the wall. “Yes, yes, well done. You make an excellent step stool.”
Gabriel gave Cerise a final push, which turned out to be just the slightest bit too hard. She was flung over the top of the wall and a moment later, they heard her land with an “oomph” on the other side.
“I did not appreciate that!” Cerise called back.
But Gabriel ignored her, already extending his hands out for Alouette. She disappeared over the top, landing with a much more innocuous sound.
“I most certainly did not sanction his visit!” the general thundered, and through Marcellus’s audio patch, he could almost hear the walls of his grandfather’s office trembling. “The stupide, worthless boy has hoodwinked you all. You must apprehend him immediately.”
“Your turn, Officer.” Gabriel proffered his makeshift step to Marcellus.
Marcellus glanced anxiously between Gabriel and the wall. “What about you?”
“Don’t you worry about me. Criminal mastermind, remember? Climbing is second nature to me. Only surefire way to escape a droid. Now, hop on.”
Pounding footsteps echoed from behind them. The door to the courtyard slammed open, and in the doorway stood Lady Alexander, the monoglass over her left eye glowing. “Don’t worry, General,” she said with a glare. “We have visual on him now. He will not get away.”
“Go!” Gabriel screeched.
Marcellus stepped into his hands, and suddenly he was flying. Gabriel was stronger than he looked. Marcellus grabbed for the top of the wall to try to slow his descent, but he only managed to scrape up his palms and knees in the process. He crash-landed on the grassy lawn on the other side, rolling twice before coming to a stop in front of Alouette who helped him swiftly to his feet.
He could hear Lady Alexander’s voice screaming from inside the courtyard. It was the most ruffled Marcellus had heard her since they’d arrived. “Security! Send all available guards to the Filbright Wing! We have a breach! I repeat a breach in the Hampstead courtyard.”
A second later, Gabriel landed expertly in a crouch and beckoned to the rest of the group. “Follow me!”
They took off along the back side of the building. The skies above were now completely dark and lights from nearby windows cast long golden shadows on the pathways.
“I don’t understand,” the general was now saying in Marcellus’s audio patch. “How did he even find out we were working together? He would have had to …” His grandfather’s voice trailed off only to return a moment later in the form of a low, menacing growl. “I will get right back to you, Lady Alexander. In the meantime, find him.”
Suddenly, sirens breached the night air, calling out across the complex. Above Marcellus’s head, a parade of stark white search lights began to swoop over the darkened ground.
“Move!” Gabriel shouted as he darted across a grassy quad and down another shadowy, stone-flagged walkway with Marcellus, Cerise, and Alouette following close behind. Marcellus had no idea where they were running to. But he prayed Gabriel did.
Then, a moment later, Marcellus heard a fifth set of footsteps. Not behind them. Not pursuing them. But inside his head. The footsteps were coming from his audio patch, and they were accompanied by the sound of objects crashing to the ground.
His grandfather was searching for something.
Gabriel slowed at the edge of the next building, finding a narrow sliver of darkness between the glowing range of the search lights. He held up a hand and they all careened to a stop behind him. He crept forward and peered around the corner, scouting his route and waiting for a clear opening.
In his audio patch, Marcellus heard the scrape of a chair leg, the squeal of a drawer being yanked open, followed by the crash of something—perhaps a lamp—being overturned. They were the sounds of an office being ransacked. Scoured. Torn apart.
He knows I’ve been listening.
The general’s footsteps soon quieted, and all Marcellus could hear was the sound of his own labored breathing as he pressed himself close to the wall.
He listened, waiting. He could almost see his grandfather now. Standing in the middle of his destroyed office, his skillful gaze scanning every centimètre, every corner. Trying to search out the source of the breach.
There was a tiny creak in Marcellus’s ear. Followed by another. And another. Like a wild animal creeping up on its prey. Then Marcellus heard it. Soft and muted.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
The all-too-familiar sound of the Regiments board. The sound of pieces being lifted, checked, and replaced.
Clink.
Clink …
And then, a single word. “Sols.”
Marcellus froze, listening to the shocked silence emanating across the galaxy, finding its way from his grandfather’s study all the way here to Albion.
For a brief moment, the stars flickered, the planets wavered, and the universe felt out of sync. Because for a brief moment, General Bonnefaçon had been outsmarted by his stupide, worthless grandson.
Marcellus heard a rustle and a thud, and in a low, sinister voice, his grandfather whispered, “This is not over, Marcellus.”
Then there was the distinct crunch of a boot striking the Palais’s polished marble floor, destroying the auditeur, and silencing the sounds of his grandfather’s office for good.
“This way!” Gabriel cried out.
Marcellus glanced up to see the group was on the move again, and as he ran to catch up with them, he suddenly understood that Gabriel was leading them back to the front of the Filbright Wing, where Marcellus could see Lady Alexander’s aerocab was still docked, a row of lights on its underside blinking and glowing in the night.
They charged toward the vehicle. Cerise was the first to arrive. She pressed her hand to the panel on the side of the door, but nothing happened. “C’mon, c’mon,” she urged, removing her hand and placing it down again. “Open, you Albion piece of junk!”
“Access denied,” the vehicle responded in a pretentious accent that sounded eerily like Lady Alexander herself.
“It’s locked.” Cerise banged her palm against the door.
“Can’t you hack it?” Gabriel asked breathlessly.
Cerise bent down and scrutinized the panel. “This is some special Albion technology. Maybe if I had fifteen minutes to bust it open and look around, I could figure it out.”
Marcellus glanced up just as another aerocab came barreling around the corner, heading right toward them. The air rippled in its wake.
Guards.
“You have more like fifteen seconds,” he informed her.
Cerise’s head shot up, her eyes widening as her gaze landed on the incoming vehicle.
The aerocab lurched to a halt a few mètres away, and the door swung open. Marcellus sucked in a breath and turned, readying himself to run from the legion of guards that was about to pour out onto the roadway.
“Get in,” said a deep, accented voice.
Confused, Marcellus spun back to the aerocab and peered at the single passenger sitting inside. Marcellus instantly recognized him from the lab. It was the older scientist. Dr. Collins. The one Marcellus had sworn he saw flinch during the demonstration. But what was he doing here?
Marcellus turned to Alouette, who was staring at the man with what appeared to be the same confusion.
“They won’t get away, General. I assure you.”
The voice startled Marcellus, and he glanced up to see that the doors to the Filbright Wing were splayed wide open and Lady Alexander was standing in the center, glaring hard at him from behind her shimmering monoglass. Then, not a second later, a troop of uniformed guards came streaming through the doors behind her, running straight toward them.
“GET IN,” Dr. Collins bellowed from the awaiting vehicle.
Marcellus nodded once and the four of them dove inside.
The aerocab launched into the air, and Marcellus had to grab on to a seat to avoid being flung across the interior. An explosion of noise vibrated in his ears and shook the vehicle.
“Get down,” Dr. Collins called out. “They’re shooting.”
Alouette, Cerise, and Gabriel all threw themselves onto the floor. But before Marcellus could duck, Dr. Collins thrust something into his hand. “We’re almost to the security gate. When I cue you, throw this.”
Marcellus looked down at a smooth metal cartridge in his hand.
“What is—?” he began to ask, but his words were cut off by the sharp blasts of more gunfire.
“Now!” said Dr. Collins, plunging his hand down on the console.
The window beside Marcellus slid open, and Marcellus hurled the small capsule out of the vehicle. It landed only mètres away from the security gate, and as soon as it hit the ground, a cloud of thick green smoke plumed into the air, swallowing up the squadron of guards who were shooting at them.
“Blinding gas,” Dr. Collins explained as he sealed the window and revved the engine. The vehicle tore out of the complex.
Marcellus glanced back to see the smoke billowing behind them, obscuring the whole view of the tech labs. But even through the thick green fog, another round of gunfire rang out and Marcellus scrabbled down onto the floor. Something struck the side of the aerocab, leaving a large gaping hole in the metal that seemed to spread and blacken with each passing second, like it was alive.
Gabriel yelped. “What the fric kind of ammo are they firing?”
“Cluster bullets,” Dr. Collins replied as he yanked on the contrôleur and pitched the aerocab into a steep upward climb. “A nasty Albion invention that you do not want to be on the receiving end of.”
“No kidding,” Gabriel muttered, still gaping, horrified, at the yawning puncture in the wall.
The aerocab juddered again but then evened out, and soon they were soaring across the sky, picking up speed. The sound of gunfire retreated into the distance, and Marcellus peeked out the window again to see the spires of the tech labs complex fading behind them.
“You’re safe to get up now,” Dr. Collins said without tearing his gaze from the front window.
Slowly, the four of them pushed themselves up from the floor and climbed onto the leather-covered benches. Marcellus shared an uneasy glance with Alouette, like they were deciding who would be the first to ask the question that was surely on all their minds.
But it was Cerise who blurted it out. “Why are you helping us?”
The aerocab lurched into a new gear, throwing everyone back against their seats.
“Why do you think?” the silver-haired scientist replied.
“I don’t know,” Cerise said impatiently. “That’s why I’m asking!”
Dr. Collins glanced at Marcellus. “I assume all that gunfire means you’re not, in fact, associated with General Bonnefaçon, as you claimed.”
“He is my grandfather,” Marcellus said with a grimace. “But no, I’m not associated with him. Not anymore, anyway.”
“Then why are you here?” Dr. Collins asked.
“We’re trying to stop him,” said Marcellus.
Dr. Collins cocked a silver eyebrow and shot a look at Cerise. “As am I.”
“What?” Cerise spat. “If you’re trying to stop him, then why are you working with him?”
“Because he’s the source,” Alouette said softly, speaking for the first time since they’d scrambled into the aerocab.
Marcellus stared incredulously between Alouette and Dr. Collins. “You’re the source?”
Dr. Collins darted a look back at Alouette. “What source?”
“You’re the one who’s been communicating with Denise,” she said. It wasn’t a question or an accusation. It was just a fact. And Marcellus was impressed that she’d been able to figure it out so quickly.
“How do you know Denise?” Dr. Collins asked.
“How do you know Denise?” Cerise fired back.
But Alouette answered first. “She … She sort of raised me. Or at least, she was one of the women who raised me.”
“You’re the Lark?” Dr. Collins asked in amazement.
Marcellus felt Alouette stiffen beside him. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Did Denise send you here?” Dr. Collins steered the aerocab gently to the left.
“Not exactly,” Alouette replied. “We intercepted your message for her. Denise taught me the code you’ve been using when I was little. That last transmission you received was from us. We pretended to be her so you would meet with us and hopefully tell us how to stop the general from using that awful”—she shuddered—“thing.”
“Yeah, what exactly was that thing?” Gabriel asked.
“So, if you intercepted that transmission,” Dr. Collins said, ignoring Gabriel’s question. “Then where is Denise?”
Alouette stared down at her hands, her lips trembling. “She’s …”
“My grandfather has her,” Marcellus cut in, the familiar anger sharpening his tone. “He’s taken her to a secret detention facility somewhere. We don’t know where.”
The aerocab fell very silent. Dr. Collins eased the contrôleur to the right and then down. The small craft ascended toward what looked like a very small town. Marcellus could make out a few neat rows of houses with gentle sloping roofs and square patches of grass behind them.
“Wait a minute,” Cerise said, staring at the coordinates flashing across the console. “Isn’t this the location where we were supposed to meet you?”
“It’s a safe house,” Dr. Collins said, “that the Ministry of Defence doesn’t know about.”
He silently steered the aerocab down a dark and quiet lane before pulling into a small docking shelter attached to one of the houses.
For a long moment, they all just sat there in the darkness. No one knew quite what to say or do next. Dr. Collins stared blankly through the front window, almost as though he were trying to summon the courage to move again.
Cerise was the first to speak. “So, are you going to tell us how you know Denise?”
At these words, the scientist seemed to break free from his trance. He jabbed at a button on the console, and the doors of the aerocab slid open. But just before stepping out, Dr. Collins glanced back at Cerise with a forlorn look, and said, “She’s my daughter.”