part0015

Corazon Santos spent the afternoon in the Shrine of the Child. Through the insulated walls of the tent, she could hear the muffled sounds of the crowded camp around her. She could imagine the blinding sunlight, the closeness of the heat and the smell of dust and bodies in the air.

But inside, it was cool and dim and smelled faintly of the sage and incense her acolyte liked to burn in the morning service.

She did not kneel, she did not pray, she just sat in a comfortable chair in the half-light, alone with her thoughts.

Corazon thought about sleep. It might encourage a vision like the one that had set her on this path in the first place, but she did not expect one. It was not needed. She didn’t require a vision to tell her that the taking of LUNa City by the Neos would exact a response from the Earth governments. She had made herself the lightning rod of the New Earth Order on the planet, so it was natural to expect them to come for her. It was the logical conclusion.

She studied the golden symbol of Cassandra. The curve of the globe, the slope of the half-hidden eye of the mysterious woman.

She wondered if they would send Graves to take her. No, that would be too easy. Cassandra would want Cora to be tested more than that. Besides, she suspected Graves would refuse the order anyway.

Cora knew she should hate him. There were those in her following who wanted him dead for destroying the Temple of Cassandra. How could she explain to these people that it was all part of Her plan? From the ashes of Her demise would rise the Child, Cassandra made flesh, and Graves had a role to play. An important role, but the future was not clear to her anymore. She needed to trust her instincts.

She liked Graves. He knew his heart, that was what she liked about him. He did not see himself as strong, but he also did not let his doubts stop him from doing the right thing. He grieved for the lives he had ended. She saw all this in his face, and this made her glad Cassandra had chosen him to share her burden.

There was a flurry of action in the anteroom to the shrine and Maria slipped through the flap. “Pardon me, Corazon, but they are in the camp. I have Valeria.” She stepped aside to let an older woman enter the room. She was dressed identical to Cora and bore a striking resemblance to her.

In the months her people had been in camp, she had done nothing to arouse the attention of the United States Army. When their food shipments arrived late or short, she counseled her people to smile and say thank you. When the latrines overflowed, they fixed the problem themselves or helped the army personnel fix it and showered them with thanks. She encouraged the young men and women to strike up personal friendships with soldiers their own age. She organized groups of refugees to take exercise walks all over the army base and enter as many buildings as possible.

All for this moment. Cora stayed back from the group of a dozen young men and women who approached a side entrance to the command building.

One of the teenagers broke off, sauntering toward the pair of guards at the door. A dark-haired young woman followed. “Que pasa, Liam,” she heard the boy say to one soldier as they bumped fists. The girl sidled up to the second soldier in a way that said they knew each other. The larger group waited for them, just as they did every morning.

The pair of young refugees slipped Tasers out of their sleeves and attacked both soldiers. By the time their bodies hit the pavement, the rest of the refugee group was inside the building. In the hallway, two of the young men stripped the soldiers of their uniforms, while a girl hacked into the security station to disable the cameras in that zone. By the time the replacement soldiers were back outside at their post, a second group of a dozen refugees was inside the door.

If all was going to plan, the same assault was happening at two more side entrances to the building. A truck containing a full platoon of armed fighters was backing up to the loading dock. Their plan ignored the heavily guarded main doors in the front of the building.

As she had waited outside, watching the team launch the assault, Cora’s heart had hammered at her rib cage. But now that the action had begun, she felt a freedom of movement, like her actions were preordained.

Her team moved swiftly through the tiled halls of the building, headed for the heart of the complex, the command-and-control center. All base operations, communications, and tactical support ran through this digital nerve center. They rounded a corner to find a soldier in uniform sprawled across the floor. A spatter of blood decorated the wall behind him.

Cora heard the girl take in a sharp breath and she gripped her hand tighter. A few yards on, they passed two of their own slumped against the wall. The wide steel double doors at the entrance to the ops center were flung open and she could see rows of empty workstations facing a pair of immense wallscreens. A mix of two dozen uniformed and civilian personnel were kneeling along the back wall.

“Over here, Corazon,” one of her people called. “I have the core open.” Cora took the silver case from the girl’s backpack and handed it to her technician. Another tech joined him and they argued in low tones.

“What’s the holdup?” she hissed at them. She heard another distant burst of gunfire and thought of the dead men in the hallway.

A scuffle broke out behind them and Cora turned to find that a group of the hostages had jumped two of her men. The soldier kneed her man in the gut and wrenched his rifle away.

“Drop it!” Cora’s weapon was in her hand and she was advancing toward him. The rifle muzzle wavered and she pulled the trigger twice. Two blots of red appeared on his light green uniform shirt and the soldier crashed to the floor. She swung her aim to the second fighter. “Get back!” she screamed. “Now!”

The row of workstations behind her winked out and she saw the people kneeling on the floor look up as their retinal displays went blank.

Cora turned her attention on the man who had lost his weapon. She hauled him to his feet and dragged his face close to hers. “Pick up your weapon and get these people locked up in one of the offices.”

She stepped back between the rows of desks, wanting nothing more than to steady her trembling legs against something sturdy. The heat behind her eyes threatened to spill over into hot tears.

Cora offered up a silent prayer to the man’s soul. She had sworn to protect the Child. She had vowed to lay down her life for the Child. Her life. But instead she had taken another’s.

These were acts that would not be forgiven. There was no act of contrition she could make to wash away that stain.