I, Cassandra

24 | AMADI EZENWA

Akron sips his coffee again. He sets the mug down on the table with a quiet thud. 'Major Ezenwa,' he says, pulling my attention back to him. 'Let my men do their job. I would rather not have to escalate the matter. We have our orders to contain this.' He lifts an eyebrow and adjusts the position of his coffee mug, so the handle sits at a perfect ninety-degree angle to the table's edge. 'We both know meeting you is just a formality.'

'Just do what you need to do to push them back,' I snap, bridling at his condescension. 'It's hot as hell out there. With the lakes and rivers dried up, they won't last long.'

'Don't be so sure.' Akron mutters, dry, his eyes going back to the screen. 'There's a UFF convoy bringing drilling equipment from Yellowknife. Looks like they plan to settle in, right on our doorstep.' He glances at the closed folder under my hands, meaningful, the one I was supposed to have read this morning.

I say nothing. Instead, I get to my feet. First Adiana. Now, this. Everything is falling apart, my life mirroring the chaos of the world. I pick up the folder and go to the door. Captain Maddox steps back and opens it for me, deferential, polite, his eyes avoiding mine. I decide I hate him.

'Push them back but do not use excessive force,' I say. 'There are women and children out there.' I pause before continuing, sickened by what I am about to order. 'And take out the convoy. If they don't have water, they will have no choice but to leave.'

Akron suppresses a smile. Satisfaction oozes from him. He salutes me, sharp. 'Sir.'

I walk away, my grip on the folder tight. I'm an engineer, not a soldier. I'm not cut out for this. In my office, I close the door and pour two fingers of whisky. I swallow it all in one go. It helps to smooth the jagged edges inside me, but not much.

Out on the helipad, the steady beat of chopper blades cut through the broiling air. I pour another finger of whisky and knock it back, the amber liquid burning my throat. I will its heated fire to cleanse me of my crime, even as I watch Maddox load up his men, armoured and bristling with weapons—killing machines prepared to mow down thousands of innocents with my permission.

The private line of my sat phone rings. I glance at it. It's Adiana's number. My heart judders to a halt. I nearly answer it as the choppers lift off. I pull back. I'm dirty now, just like Akron. My father would be so disappointed in me if he were still here. For the first time in my life, I'm glad he's not. I punch the decline button. The panel's backlight dims.

In the distance, the thrum of the choppers fade, melding with the hum of the air conditioning system. I open the file and start to read.

***

An hour later, the secure line buzzes and a light on its panel blinks red, slow, steady, like a heartbeat. It's the first time it's lit up in twelve years. I set aside the file and take the call.

'Major Ezenwa,' a French-accented voice says through the speaker without introduction. She doesn't need one. I sit up straighter.

Never have I had reason to be spoken to by de Pommier. I sense my day is about to get a whole lot worse.

'General,' I reply, hoping she can't tell from my voice I have been drinking.

'This call is Q Clearance,' she says, 'you have thirty seconds to secure your location.'

I get up and lock the door, disconnect the other lines in, and power down my tablet and wall screen. Four seconds to spare. I sit, uneasiness pooling around me, whatever is coming next, I know I'm not going to like it.

'We have a situation,' she says, crisp, exactly at the count of thirty, 'one which you are able to remedy with the most expedience.'

'Ma'am,' I say, hoping I sound soberer than I feel.

A pause. It drags, ominous, oppressing me. I can hear her tapping a finger against her desk. My instincts keel. I force myself to stillness, to quiet my tumult. 'What I am about to ask of you,' she says instead of going straight to my orders, making my instincts haul on me, harder than ever, 'I would prefer never to ask of any soldier. It is why I have contacted you directly, rather than sending the order via the Lieutenant Colonel.'

A tingle touches the base of my spine and slides up and outwards, embracing me, sobering me. I say nothing even though I sense she has paused to give me the chance to ask for clarification.

'Upon successful discharge of my order, you will be promoted to Colonel, granted residence status in Alpha VII, and—' several smart taps against a tablet, '—given permission to marry. All effective immediately.'

I blink. The room tilts. I grab onto the edge of the desk wondering if I have fallen into a drink-induced hallucination. It's too much too fast; I cannot even begin to guess at what kind of order she needs me to obey. Nothing I can think of would stop me from obeying when the rewards are so great. Everything I have wanted, all of it, on a platter, held out to me by none other than the general of Global Command.

'Major?' she asks, soft. 'Are you prepared to receive your orders?'

'Yes Ma'am,' I say, tingling with anticipation, already thinking of the call I would make to Adiana. I let out a slow breath. It's over, all of our trials. Just like that. In the space of a single heartbeat.

'Très bien. You will note the following sets of coordinates.' She reads out a long line of numbers. Another set follows. I copy them down and repeat them back, diligent.

'Major,' she continues, 'for security reasons, Command has withheld intelligence regarding certain deterrence measures available to the barrier.'

Deterrence measures. I put the pen down, slow, deliberate, positioning it with care over the coordinates so it blocks out an entire section of numbers. I don't want to see them, because suddenly I know what those numbers represent. Lives. Hundreds of thousands of them.

My moment of exhilaration vanishes, my joy fleeting, ephemeral. Reality slams into me, harsh, brutal. I thought I knew every secret the barrier held. Instead, for twelve years Command has kept me ignorant. And now I am going to find out about the deterrent which requires the general to have a conversation with me four security clearance levels above my own. I close my eyes. A steep shear of nausea assails me. The whisky turns against me, searing through my guts, sickening me. I think of Akron's suppressed smile and realise he knew all along this was coming, the bastard. Maddox and his men were just the opening salvo, their show of force giving the people a chance to flee before I used the 'deterrent'. I swallow back an upwelling of bile, its rancid heat making me gag. And so it is I who will be responsible for the horror to come. Me. The engineer soldier who has never once, in his entire career, needed to fire his pistol.