Triplicity

Chapter 2 - ISAAC

The force of the blast knocks all of us off our feet. I fly into a nearby table, breaking it. Before I can see if the others are alright, a small dark object drops from the air conditioning vent. Smoke fills the room. Stunned, I lie in the debris and watch as Valerie's cloaked form stands, draws a pistol and begins firing. Unlike her predecessor, she prefers to be in the action.

Seeing her through the smoke releases me from my shock. I fumble my own gun from its holster and struggle to my feet. Shadowy figures charge through the doorway into the smoke, only to be cut down by Valerie's shots. Powerful, compact railgun technology that the rebels do not have. I almost feel sorry for them.

Valerie runs through the open doorway, toward the source of the explosion. I stagger after her, taking down intruders who manage to escape her pistol. I catch up with her as she leaps nimbly over a broken-down door. "Chancellor, what are they after?"

"The archives," she shouts back. "They're going after the files again."

Again?

I've only been an officer for a few years. This incident evidently happened before I'd come along. I want to ask Valerie when the rebels had stolen files before, but as I open my mouth to speak, a voice calls over the chaos: "Keep going! Do not retreat! We will stand strong!"

Valerie stops so abruptly I nearly run into her. Ahead of us, I see rebels running into the hallway that leads to the archives, but she doesn't go after them. "Valerie?" I ask her. "What—"

She ignores me and breaks into a sprint toward the rebels, but not before I see her face. Her expression is close to pure terror. I barely have time to process this before five rebels turn the corner and advance upon us.

Valerie fires her gun twice. Her aim has deadly accuracy, and two intruders fall. As I raise my own pistol, someone slams into me, pushing me through the doorway nearby. Before I can get up, a fist enclosed in a metal-studded glove catches me in the face.

The pain is instantaneous. I fall back, nearly blacking out. The rebel—a small figure—crouches over me, her knee digging into my chest. The eyes that lock on mine seem familiar, but I'm in no condition to recognize anyone. "Stay down," the rebel orders.

Through the dim haze of my thoughts, I realize her voice is the one that I heard earlier. The one that made Valerie so afraid. From outside the room, I hear screams as the rest of the rebels who attacked us are shot down. Valerie runs into the room, her cloak shredded. She grips her gun in one hand and a knife in the other. The rebel reaches into her boot and draws her own blade. For an agonizing ten seconds, they stand silently, staring each other down.

"You have to leave," Valerie says. She forces the words out, her expression full of conflicted emotions.

"You have to stop," the rebel replies.

"You know I can't."

From the way they speak, it's obvious this isn't the first encounter they've had with each other. I try to sit up, to reach for my gun, but even that small exertion sends white-hot pain through my cheekbone. A wave of dizziness sweeps over me and I fall back. Valerie raises her own pistol, but her hand is shaking.

The rebel faces the barrel of the gun confidently. She's dressed in all black, with a cloth obscuring the lower half of her face. Her eyes burn with anger and determination. "You won't shoot me," she says. "We both know that."

A device in her ear lets out a quiet beep. She takes it out and turns a minuscule knob on it, which I assume controls the volume. A male voice crackles through the tiny speaker for all of us to hear: "Commander, we're leaving! Get out of there!"

"Copy that," the rebel says. She turns the volume back down and inserts it into her ear again, then faces Valerie. "If you'd step aside now"—she cocks her head to one side—"Chancellor."

Again, I see that look of terror on Valerie's face, but it's quickly replaced with an emotionless mask. "You'll die if you keep doing this," she tells the rebel. "One way or another, my people will find you."

"Only if you command them to do so," the rebel responds quietly. "Do me a favor and don't follow us."

With that, she disappears into the smoke. Valerie stays put, staring at the weapons in her hands. I manage to force a small groan out of myself and her gaze snaps up. Her eyes widen as she sees me. "Medic!" she yells.

People clad in gray rush in. I'm hauled onto a stretcher and rushed toward the infirmary. I look at Valerie as I pass her, but she won't meet my gaze. As my vision begins to dim, I see a messenger run up. "Chancellor, most of the rebels have been killed. The rest are getting into their ships. Permission to shoot them down?"

Valerie's face is unreadable. I imagine a small group of rebels loading themselves into a now too-big hovercraft, their commander pausing to look back at the Center. Her dark eyes somewhat sad, as if even though they'd taken hundreds of files, she'd still failed her own mission.

"Track them," Valerie says. Her voice is hoarse. "Don't shoot. If we locate their base, we can take them all out."

The messenger bows. "Yes, Chancellor."

Everything goes dark.