Read Legacy (Alliance Book 3) Online

Authors: Inna Hardison

Tags: #coming of age, #diversity, #Like Divergent, #Dystopian Government, #Action

Legacy (Alliance Book 3) (10 page)

He had to end this, this fight with Brody over this man, one way or another. He pulled out his gun, switching it on, turned the dial all the way up, and pointed it at him. “All right.”

Lancer looked at him, surprised, and got up, slowly, shakily, probably for not having eaten in days. He steadied him, keeping his free hand on his arm. “Here or outside?”

Lancer was looking at his face, eyes calm. “I’d rather outside, if it’s all right.” He walked him out of the room with the gun at his back. He called on his comm for Brody to meet them downstairs and took Maxton to the street, neither saying a word.

Brody came out, looking very business as usual after just a few minutes. “I made this man a promise that I have to keep. We are going for a quick walk in the woods,” and he started walking, gun still at Maxton’s back. He knew he wasn’t leaving Brody any choice this way, but he didn’t want to argue with him. He was too angry at him for that. He found the small clearing he liked, an elm and a few young birches in it and told Lancer to lean against the closest birch. He did, looking at him, face relaxed, nothing moving on it at all.

He cut the tie at his hands. It seemed wrong not to, and he knew he wouldn’t run. “I am really sorry for what I’m about to do, Lancer,” he whispered.

The man smiled at him, “I know, Riley, but don’t be. I am okay with it.” He handed him a blank screen, Lancer not taking it.

“I won’t read anything you say, I swear... but if you have anybody you want to talk to, I’ll make sure it gets to them.” Lancer just shook his head. So he really didn’t have anybody, and knowing that made him feel even worse.

He walked over to Brody, and stopped right in front of him, “I made Lancer a promise that I would shoot him if my crew didn’t trust him enough to help us without keeping him being a prisoner. I know you, of all people, should be able to appreciate that request. I know you remember how it was when I did that to you”—he handed Brody the gun, handle first—“but I can’t do it. I can’t shoot this man, so you’re going to have to do it for me.... And when it’s over, you and I are done. Done for good. Because I’ll never not see you as a murderer after that. I won’t be able to be around you,” he said quietly, Brody staring at him, eyes angry. He forced the gun into his hand and stepped away from him, looking at Lancer. The man didn’t move from that tree, but his face wasn’t calm anymore, and he was looking at him, not Brody.

Brody threw the still buzzing gun on the ground. “You win, Riley. He is free to either help us or leave, whichever he chooses,” he spat at him, and he turned around and ran back towards the city. He knew he’d tell the others, and that when they get to the tower, nobody would be pointing guns at Maxton. He just didn’t know if Maxton would want to stay with them after what they did, and he was afraid to ask. He made himself look at him. Maxton was still leaning against that tree, eyes closed, breathing hard for some reason.

“He wasn’t wrong, Riley. He was just trying to protect his crew. But what you did.... You can’t do that to your friends. They’ll never forgive you for it,” he said softly, eyes still closed.

“What do you want to do, Lancer? I am okay with it either way, I’ll have to be. Just say it!” he snapped, all the tension spilling out of him.

The man’s gray eyes flew open, looking at him. “I want to fight, Riley. I want to fight.”

They were all sitting around the table when they walked in, and they all stood up, looking at Maxton. Brody walked over and offered him his hand, not saying anything, and they shook, and he knew it would be okay for all of them now, it would have to be, because Brody was still in charge, and he would defend and protect this new man the same way he would anyone else on his crew, even if he hated him. He walked Lancer over to the table and had him sit next to where he and Ams sat, noting that his hands were shaking. He ran to the kitchen and brought him a thermos of broth, the same thing that Brody made him drink when he was like that, and he could tell after a few minutes that he would be all right.

Stan got up with a holo, showing them whatever he could find on Crylo. They were looking at a building with people milling around, women wearing the same strange dresses that Trina had on when he saw her last. He swallowed hard and looked at Brody and his head was down. Stan was explaining something about these dresses and how they would need to find a way to make them for the girls, and that he thought he could do it if he could get his hands on something or other. Brody got up, looking very pale, and left the room, Laurel chasing after him. Stan stopped, looking at him, confusion all over his face.

“It wasn’t you, Stan. Just keep going. He’ll be okay.” And he did, and then Stan and Loren walked up to Maxton, shook his hand and were gone, probably to try to find that thing Stan needed to replicate the dresses they saw.

Ams was staring at Maxton, eyes curious. “I don’t know how else to say it, Maxton, but whatever you do, please don’t make Riley regret this. He fought for you like I’ve never seen him fight for anyone but Ella and Brody before, and I’m not sure why he’d to do that for someone who killed all those people. His people, Maxton. I don’t need to know or anything. Just... don’t hurt him,” and she turned away from him.

“I feel like an exhibit of some kind, the way everybody is staring at me, Riley. Can I get out of here?” he whispered just for him.

“No, I think you should talk to them, Maxton. They think what Ams does of you, that you killed all those people. Tell them what you told me.”

Maxton stood up, eyes taking in the few people still in the room, and put his hands behind his back. “Riley wants me to tell you that I didn’t murder all those people, but that would be a lie. I did. I didn’t know that’s what would happen, but it doesn’t change that it was me who disbursed the neuros. None of us knew what they were programmed to do. The code label said vaccine on it. I assumed it was. Doesn’t matter though. I’m still a murderer. It’s something I’ll have to live with. When Brody and his soldiers got me, I wanted to end it, check out, and I was okay with it, until this kid here made me feel ashamed for it. So I made a choice a few days ago that I would help you, if you’ll let me, instead of running away from it. I hope you do. But either way, none of you are at risk for my being here. I don’t know if you can trust me on that or not. You’ll have to figure it out for yourselves,” and he sat back down again.

Ams looked at Maxton for a bit, not saying anything, and then got up and left the room, probably going after Laurel and Brody. Drake walked over to him, offering his giant hand without a word, and Maxton got up and shook it, and Trelix was there, just shaking his hand, nobody saying anything. There was no need. Only Ella stood off to the side, waiting. She went up to Maxton, finally, took him by the hand and walked him over to the couch, making him sit down and lean back.

She unbuttoned Lancer’s jacket and snapped at him to get her kit. He did, and then he looked at Maxton, the bandage gone now, and he knew what it was. The bloody wound was infected, redness spreading out from it down his chest, puss leaking out from between the stitches. He screwed up somehow. He used antiseptic, he remembered that. Nobody bothered to check on the man’s wound since he stitched him up. Stupid of them. Stupid of him not to. But Maxton had to have known, had to have felt it. Why the hell wouldn’t he say something?

“I want everybody out of here, please. Riley, you can stay if you want to, and maybe even help, but this won’t be pretty.”

He watched Drake and Trelix file out of the room, Ella’s voice catching Trelix on his way out, “I need you to boil a few liters of water please, and find me a few bowls and a couple of clean towels.”

Maxton was watching Ella, not saying anything, eyes curious.

“Why the hell didn’t you say something, Lancer?” he snapped at him. Lancer ignored him, still looking at Ella. “How did you know?”

Ella had him take his jacket off. “I’ve seen it too many times before, soldier. It comes off your eyes, your face, the way you look at food. I just knew. But I know you knew too, and you really should have said something to somebody before. It was stupid of you not to,” she said softly and ran off to wherever Trelix was dealing with the things she asked him for.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” He knew he sounded angry at the man. He was angry at him.

“I would have, if things went the way they did. I’m sorry.” And he understood it then, why he didn’t. If the crew didn’t accept him, the not telling would have spared him from pulling the damn trigger, if he couldn’t do it. That’s why he didn’t say anything. He would rather die from blood poisoning, or however things like this killed one, than have him live with the guilt.

“I didn’t ask you to help us so you could protect me. I asked because we can use you. What you tried to do to spare me... I’ll never speak to you if you do something like that again.” He said it softly, the man watching him.

“Understood,” he whispered, and that was that.

Ella came in carrying the water and the towels. She had Maxton get up while she spread one of the towels on the couch, and made him lie down on it. He kept his eyes on her. “I have to cut you open, Maxton.”

A nod.

She fished in the med kit and took out a few white pills she must have saved from when they had to fix Brody, and handed them to Maxton, only he shook his head at her, looking uncomfortable.

“Not trying to be a hero, Ella, but I can’t take those. Allergic. I’ll be all right,” and he closed his eyes.

He turned away when she split the scar open, couldn’t take it, all the stuff coming out of it. He thought he’d throw up, and was amazed that Ella seemed calm about the whole thing. He looked again when it seemed she was done with the worst of it. Maxton was sweating, but he didn’t move, and kept his eyes closed. She cleaned it all up as best she could and stitched the wound, much better than the way he did it.

“We have to find you antibiotics somehow. This isn’t something that I can fix with hot water alone, I am sorry.”

His eyes were open now, looking at her softly. “I know. We have some at the lab. Brody or one of the other soldier boys should be able to get them. I just need to drop a note for my crew on a screen, if you got one you are not using, an untraceable one. My men will check, they have to.”

He ran out of the room without a word, looking for Brody or Trelix or somebody, and found Brody talking to Laurel out by the elevators, as if they were going somewhere. “Brody, I need you to please go to the lab, you know, Maxton’s. We have to get him meds...” he said in a rush, panting, Brody looking at him, confusion all over his face. He stopped in front of his friend, and just told him what was going on, Brody nodding, and asking for five minutes.

Maxton was still lying on the couch with his eyes closed when he got back. Ella was checking his vitals, and jotting them down on one of her old pads. Brody came in finally, and walked right over to Maxton, handing him a screen. “Type what you need to for your men, Maxton.”

He did, quickly, encrypting it, as apparently was protocol for the men in the lab. “Be careful with them. My men. They are better trained than they look. Go in through the door, not the roof, and hand this to Dyrig. You shouldn’t need to say anything. If Brandon is there, ignore him, Brody. Also, Dyrig will give you a screen for me. There are no secrets on it or anything useful to you, I swear.... It’s personal,” and Brody was gone. All they could do now was wait. He knew Brody would be on comm, and Trelix would be his backup, given that Loren was still wherever he was with crazy Stan.

He felt Ella’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently, “He’ll be okay, Riley. I promise. So long as we can get those meds, he’ll be okay. And if we can’t, I’ll just have to hunt these woods for things we can use instead. I am not going to let him die, not from this.” She whispered it, so it was just for him, and smiled at him, confident old Ella smile.

He saw Ams and Laurel walk in, staring at the couch. “What’s wrong with him, Riley?” Ams’ voice. He loved her for being blunt most of the time, but her asking this now annoyed him.

“His wound is infected. I must have screwed something up when I stitched him up before. Ella had to cut him open to clean it, and Brody is trying to get him meds for it.” He said it matter of fact like, flatly, without looking at her, and then he watched, confused, as she walked over to the couch and crouched by the man’s head, his eyes still closed, and without saying anything or asking permission, started running her small hand through his hair, smoothing the loose strands away from his face, as if he were a small child she was soothing to sleep. This gesture was so gentle and so soft, so old Ams; he couldn’t stop watching.

Maxton kept his eyes closed for the longest time while she did that, and when he finally opened them, he could tell the man was crying in his own way. His eyes were wet, not spilling any water, but wanting to, only he wouldn’t let himself. “Thank you, Amelia.”

He looked embarrassed. Ams just shook her head at him softly and kept going, telling him that it was okay to sleep for a while, until Brody got back anyway, and he seemed to after that.

And after they waited longer than he’d thought they would, Brody and Trelix were there, Brody panting, hard, as if he ran the whole time. He handed Ella a small black box, and she smiled at him, took one of the syringes out and went to Maxton. He would be okay now, he knew, and he ran over to Brody, who had his hands on his knees, still panting, and he hugged him, hugged him with everything he had. “Riley, I can’t bloody breathe as it is, go easy on me, will you?” But he was smiling, old-Brody-like, full on smile.

Everybody was going to be okay now.

THE DRESS

Laurel, June 5, 2236, Reston.

S
tan was beaming at her, holding a flowing white dress out in front of him, the dress almost touching the floor. “Ams already got hers. It’s exactly the same, only I stitched a tiny “L” into the neck of yours, so you didn’t get confused, because you are a bit taller than Ams, and other things are different too. Sorry... put it on,” and he turned around.

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