“Okay,” he mumbles. “I can pretend, too.”
VALTERRA RIDGE
(excerpt fromA Living History: The Modified People)
The bombing of Valterra Ridge remains the highest-casualty attack on the Modified since the Silverblood Purge of 2050 OE, the military Coup against President Tack Severn enacted by his general Merrick Redden.
Located west of the Valterra fault line, the small village was decimated by an aerial strike that occurred without warning and left more than fourteen hundred Mods dead and more than five hundred wounded. Prior to the assault, the population of the Ridge was just over two thousand, comprising mostly civilians unassociated with the Modified Uprising (though some residents had ties to the network).
The first air strike began shortly after dawn and lasted less than thirty minutes, as two Silver Block squadrons dropped incendiary and high-explosive bombs on Valterra Ridge, reducing homes to rubble and igniting conflagrations that burned through the settlement. The second strike targeted the perimeter of the village, strategically aimed incendiary devices targeting the landscape and creating landslides that buried entire farms under dirt and debris. Of the five hundred survivors, fewer than a hundred were able to evacuate; a subsequent earthquake caused by the strikes claimed the lives of many who survived the initial bombings.
The attack on Valterra Ridge has been traced to Marina Serrano, a Command colonel who at the time was believed to be working undercover for the Uprising. Serrano, serving as a spy for General Redden and his Company, revealed the previously undisclosed location of the village and assisted the Command in the planning and execution of the air assault.
Valterra Ridge and its devastating casualty toll serve as a reminder that the Modified will continue to face life-threatening risk so long as we live under the rule of a regime that practices inhumane and indiscriminate warfare against innocent civilian populations. The Company’s disregard for human life only strengthens the Modified objective of escaping oppressive Prime rule and forging a new way of life on the Continent.
Chapter 22
The next week passes without incident. I start bringing Xavier along on my work assignment and am pleasantly surprised to find him and Zak hitting it off. The first time we walked in, the scruffy weapons instructor wasn’t enthused. He narrowed his eyes on Xavier and said, “I like you, Wren, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea to give a prisoner access to firearms.”
“Probably not,” Xavier agreed. “But I’m Darlington’s new bodyguard, so…guess you’re stuck with me.”
“Bodyguard?” Zak echoed in amusement.
“I know what you’re thinking, but it’sjusta bodyguard situation. We’re not screwing. She isn’t my type.”
“I wasn’t thinking that at all,” Zak replied, at which point I sighed and apologized on Xavier’s behalf.
The funny thing is, Xavier is a far better instructor than I am. He’s a natural teacher, whereas I find it awkward to connect with people sometimes. By the end of the week, he’s not only impressed Zak but also won over some of the recruits. Uma now prefers to work with Xavier exclusively.
Tonight, I visit Kallister in his quarters before dinner to read more of my mother’s file. I’ve been tackling it out of order. Probably not themost efficient method, but I’m a bit afraid to delve into some sections. Like the transcripts of her Company interrogations, days before they executed her. I don’t know how I’m going to feel seeing her own words on that page, imagining her voice saying them in my head, so I’ve been delaying it.
I spend the next hour reading up about Valterra Ridge while Kallister sits in the other room poring over a mission briefing. Afterward, I meet Xavier at the mess hall for dinner and endure his usual absurd stream of consciousness as we move through the line.
“And yeah, I get it,” he says in that aggravating way where he picks up some mysterious conversation he’s been having in his own head and continues it out loud as if I know what the hell he’s talking about.
“You get what?” I set a cup of coffee on my tray and wait for him to grab a drink.
“I know most of these people are ’fects—”
“Hey.” I punch him, and he nearly drops the glass of lager he’s pouring.
“Sorry. Mods. I know most of these people areMods,” he corrects, suitably chastened. “But I’m not one of those dumbasses who thinks your blood is poison. All I’m saying is, there’s no reason for someone here not to screw me.”
“Why does it always lead back to sex with you? You weren’t like this at the Command base.”
“No, I just wasn’t like this toyou.” He rolls his eyes. “Instructors aren’t gonna talk to recruits about their sex life.”
“Friends don’t need to, either,” I say helpfully.
“You’re already part of this. Don’t fight it.”
“Fine. So you don’t think our blood is poison. But have you ever hooked up with a Mod before?” I challenge.
“Statistically speaking, I’m sure I have. You know, given the astronomical number of lovers I’ve had,” he says solemnly, and I almost fall over laughing. “I don’t care if the person in my bed is psychic, Darlington, as long as they stay the hell out of mind and focus on my body.” He winks at me.
“All right, so now you just have to convince them that you’re not an evil Prime and deserve orgasms same as any other man.”
“Exactly.” He scans the room, nodding in approval when two very pretty women saunter in our direction. Oozing confidence, he flashes them a grin. “Ladies.”
