“How? He is on Mars preparing the revolution. There is no way to communicate. They monitor everything. How could he contact you without exposing your cover?” She leans forward, lower teeth exposed ferally. “Tell me, Darrow. Do you even know how much they’ve stolen from you?”
It’s something in her tone. “What do you mean?”
“Here’s what I mean.” She jams a series of orders into the holoCube and an image appears of Lykos mines. My blood goes cold. “The recording of Eo’s death, the one we pirated and broadcast …”
My heart thuds in my throat.
“It wasn’t complete.” She presses play and the room around us becomes the mine. We’re a part of the three-dimensional holo. It’s the raw footage, not the stuff on the newsreels, not the stuff I’ve seen a hundred times. It shows the hanging without a soundtrack.
I hear my own cries of pain as the Grays beat the boy I used to be. Weeping in the crowd. The awkward silence of unedited footage. My mother hangs her head and Uncle Narol spits in the dust. Kieran, my brother, covers his children’s eyes. Feet shuffle. Dio, Eo’s sister, stumbles up the metal scaffold. Shoes scraping over rust. Sobbing. Then Dio leans toward my wife. Eo stands small, so pale and thin, little more than the smoke of the burning girl I remember. Her lips move. Again, I don’t hear it, just as I didn’t hear it that day. Suddenly Dio sobs uncontrollably and clings to Eo. What was said?
“Use the equipment. That’s what it’s there for, eh?”
I’ve wondered it a thousand times but never had access to this footage. I never knew how I’d find it without raising suspicion. And the thought scared me, as it scares me now—what was I not strong enough to hear? What could Dio bear that I could not?
In the news footage that was pirated, they don’t even show Dio. But here, with the raw footage, I can rewind. I do so. I can amplify the sound. I do so. I watch it happen again: My mother hangs her head. Narol spits. Kieran covers the children’s eyes. Feet shuffle. Dio goes up the scaffold. All the sound is magnified. I sort out the white noise with the controls, and I hear what my wife said to Dio.
“In our bedroom, there is a crib I made. Hide it before Darrow returns.”
“A crib …,” Dio murmurs.
“He must never know. It would break him.”
“Don’t say it, Eo. Don’t.”
“I am with child.”
10
Broken
I break.
Sitting in a void. Staring at my hands. The hands that could not save my wife, my child. She was right. I wasn’t strong enough to bear the truth of Eo’s second sacrifice. Eo could have lived. Eo could have given us the child we always wanted. That future wasn’t worth her silence. I wasn’t worth it …
I feel something deep in my chest, a hollow raw ache. Like blackness has opened in the pit of my soul even as my body tightens and coils around grief. I weigh a million pounds. Shoulders slump. Chest compressed. My fingers clutch together. Funny to think these hands have been with me this whole time. They helped pull her ankles. They buried her in the soil. But they didn’t just bury her, did they?
No. They buried another life. One unborn. Our child, dead before it lived. And I never even knew. I failed them both. The amplified video replays again.
“I am with child,” she tells Dio on the scaffold. “I am with child.”
I replay it a dozen times, feeling myself shrink into a corridor of grief.
The Golds didn’t just kill her. They killed what I’ve always wanted to be—a husband and a father. If only I had stopped her. If only I had not pouted like a child when we lost the Laurel, she wouldn’t have thought to take me to the garden. If only I had the strength to pretend losing the Laurel didn’t bother me.
All the family I could have had. A wife. Sons. Daughters. Grandchildren. They’ve been slaughtered before they ever were. Eo will never hold our daughter. She will never kiss our son to sleep and smile over at me as his little hands clutch my finger. I’m all that’s left of that family that could have been. A dark shadow of the man I was meant to be.
The rage rises. We had a chance, and it is gone. Everything I wanted is gone, because of me and because of them. Their laws. Their injustice. Their cruelty. They made a woman choose death for her and her unborn child over a life of slavery. All that for power. All that so they can keep their perfect little world.
“You were not strong enough then,” Harmony says. “Are you strong enough now, Helldiver?” I look at her, tears making warm paths down my face. Her hard eyes soften for me. “I had children, once. Radiation ate their insides, and they didn’t even give them pain meds. Didn’t even fix the leak. Said there weren’t enough resources. My husband just sat there and watched them die. In the end, the same thing took him. He was a good man. But good men die. To free them, to protect them, we must be savages. So give me evil. Give me darkness. Make me the bloodydamn devil if we can bring even the faintest ray of light.”
I stand and wrap my arms around her as I’m reminded of the true horrors our kind face. Had I really forgotten? I am a child of hell, and I’ve spent too long in their heaven.
“Whatever Ares wants, I’ll do it.”
“Pliny sent the bitch,” the Jackal hisses as the Yellow physicians slowly remove the burned skin from his arm and reapply new growth cultures. “It wasn’t Sons of Ares. They wouldn’t kill that many lowColors. It’s against profile. Pliny probably. Or the Sovereign’s Praetorians using cover.”
The lights of passing ships glow through the glass. He curses and shouts at his servants to black out the windows. Grays brought me here to his private skyscraper instead of the Citadel, as I requested. The place crawls with mercenaries. He prefers Grays to Obsidians, except apparently that Stained. I’m the only other Gold, which shows the extent of the Jackal’s trust. His name would certainly bring enough hangers-on to fill a city, but he’s comfortable in his isolation. Like me.