The last time I’d ever said anything to anyone, I was eight years oldand my mother was beside my sickbed in Newage, where we’d been sent to after we fled into Mara. She was holding my hand as I croaked to her, blood running from my nose, lungs seizing with dry coughs, blisters searing the skin on my face and arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Those were my last spoken words to my mother. I can’t remember why I said it, what I’d been so sorry for. My eyes had darted wildly around, hoping to see my father walk through the door. He would have put a hand against my forehead and chuckled apologetically, say he hadn’t meant to lose us in the mass exodus out of Basea. That he’d been right behind us. But he never appeared. And the next morning, I’d woken up silent.
I’ve gone so long without speech to communicate that I rarely think about it anymore. I spend my days in silence, signing to those who understand, steering clear of those who don’t.
But here he is, Red, the Skyhunter, answering words that I merely think in my head, his voice so clear in my mind that it’s as if I’d thought them myself.
And just like how he’s able to catch a glimpse of my thoughts and memories, I now see something of his—a boy in a chamber made entirely of glass and metal, fiddling desperately with shackles on his wrists, screaming and screaming and screaming.
The image is there and gone in my head, so rapid that I wonder if I’d just imagined it.
How…?I start to think, still unsure if my thought is being carried to him. But he seems to hear me as clearly as if I’d spoken or signed the word, because he nods and takes a deep breath.
In order to control their human weapons of war, he explains,the Federation bonds with them through a mind link. It connects their mind to that of the Premier himself, who can control them.
Again, I understand his words, even though I shouldn’t. Again, Ican hear his voice—deep, gritty like the salt of the sea—in my mind, as clearly as my own thoughts.
A bond with their Ghosts. A war experiment.
Are you saying you’ve bonded with me?I think to him.
The comprehension on his face reminds me so painfully of the way I felt when Corian had first signed to me outside the arena that I have to suck in my breath to calm myself. Red’s expression changes to match my sudden wave of grief. He stares at me, and in a flash, I know that he has somehow managed to see the memory that I just conjured in my head, has managed to feel my rush of pain.
Your Shield?he asks.
I tighten my jaw, unwilling to discuss Corian with him.Why does the Federation create this bond with their Ghosts?I think instead.
To make their Ghosts obey, Red answers.Attacking anyone from the Federation would feel like attacking themselves. Even if the Premier dies, the power of his mind stays, lingering in the Ghost as if the Premier’s thoughts are its own.
For decades, Mara has tried to explain how the Federation manages to keep their Ghosts from attacking their own troops. We have tortured captured Ghosts, cutting them open in an attempt to understand. Dozens of shops in the Grid are dedicated to trying to unlock this secret, whether by testing Ghost blood against that of humans or mixing the two in an attempt to find an antidote. And here, right in front of me, is the answer.
The Federation’s Premier quite literally invades their minds.
But you’re not a Ghost, I tell him.
I’m something worse. A new war experiment.
The thought sends such a shudder through me as I shrink away from Red.And do you control me now?I ask him, suddenly suspicious.Did you link me to your Premier?
He’s notmyPremier, he answers sharply, his eyes flashing. Then he softens and adds,I’m his war machine. Others cannot obey me. I was supposed to obey the Premier.He looks away from me.Except they didn’t finish working on me before I escaped. My link was only created, not bonded. Then I touched you on the battlefield…
His voice trails off in my mind. He doesn’t say it, but I understand. He’s bonded with me.
Why me?I ask.
He hesitates for a long moment.I don’t know how it happened, he says slowly,but I think my mind needed to connect with someone who would be willing to understand.Someone willing to understand him. He was crying out for help, I realize, and in his need, he reached out to me.
Engineered to obey the Federation through a bond. The Ghosts shackled during the battle until they were ready to be unleashed, the chains hanging from their necks—none of it was necessary. Ghosts are designed to not attack their masters.
Is Red the same? He was supposed to be bound with the same link. Except it hadn’t worked.
The thought plays again in my mind, lighting sparks in the darkness. I hurriedly wipe the tears from my eyes and stare at Red. He fled before they could properly bind him to the Federation. And he has given to me the bond that he should have had with the Premier.
I picture Red racing through the Federation’s capital, hiding in their alleys and then in their woods, surviving on his own as soldiers and Ghosts alike are sent to hunt him down. No—I correct myself—not Ghosts.
What if the Premier had recaptured Red? He would have taken Red back, and Red would have been his to command. But they hadn’t linked. Red has bound himself to me instead, and now I have a direct bridge into the mind of a Federation creation who, for the first time I know of, doesn’t obey.
If he can avoid being attacked by Ghosts, and if the Federation is capable of failing to bind Red to them, then it means their method for controlling their Ghosts isn’t foolproof. It means that, somehow, there’s a way to sever whatever bond they have with their creations. There’s a way to stop them, and Red might be the key.
And now the Federation knows that Red has fallen into their enemy’s hands. It’s no wonder that the Premier himself came to hunt him down. They’re afraid they’ve just handed their greatest weakness to us.
