pushed back a rogue strand of red hair. “Of course.” He pointed toward a set of doors behind them. “There’s a courtyard right through those—”
But Marcellus couldn’t even wait for him to finish. Struggling to put one foot in front of the other and fighting for breath, he stumbled out of the lab. He could feel Alouette, Cerise, and Gabriel close behind him. He burst through the door to the outside. The Sols had set, but exterior lamps illuminated a small courtyard adorned with benches, a square lawn, planters of shrubs, and a fountain at the center.
“Marcellus?” he heard someone say. But he did not look back to confirm who had asked the question. He did not look back at all.
His stomach had turned to liquid, and his chest shuddered like a storm was about to hit. Holding up a hand, Marcellus ran to the shrubbery by the fountain and proceeded to be unceremoniously and horribly sick.
- PART 4 - DÉFECTEURS
For too long and for too many years, the people looked down. Down at the glowing squares stitched into their arms. Down at the small screens which promised to care for them. Watch over them. Store their hopes and dreams. And offer wondrous dancing images before their eyes.
But the people failed to see beyond the shimmer and the glow.
They failed to see the danger that lurked beneath.
From The Chronicles of the Vangarde, Volume 7, Chapter 9
- CHAPTER 40 - MARCELLUS
FOR A FULL MINUTE, THE peaceful bubbling of the fountain in the center of the courtyard was the only sound Marcellus could hear. For a full minute, he could almost bring himself to believe that the last hour had never happened. That he hadn’t just watched two men rip each other to pieces in a plastique prison. That he hadn’t just emptied the contents of his stomach into a planter in the middle of a weapons development complex on the enemy planet of Albion.
But then, the minute was over, and the tranquil gurgling of the fountain was disrupted by Gabriel’s frantic voice. “Can someone tell me what the fric just happened back there?”
Marcellus wiped his mouth and turned around to find Gabriel, Cerise, and Alouette all staring at him. Gabriel was looking a little queasy himself. His skin was clammy, and his eyes had gone glassy and dull.
Marcellus tried to speak. He tried to explain what they had just witnessed, but he couldn’t put it into words. And the memory of that man lying lifeless and defeated on the ground, blood trickling from the wound on his head, brought another wave of nausea.
In the end, however, it was someone else who spoke.
A voice that seemed to come from the deep, dark corners of Marcellus’s mind. A voice he had been dreading hearing since they’d landed. But a voice he knew would eventually return.
“Lady Alexander? This is certainly a surprise. I was not expecting to hear from you again so soon. Is there a problem with the delivery schedule?”
Marcellus froze as his grandfather’s voice reverberated through his skull like a war drum. The general was back in his office. Talking to the very woman who stood just on the other side of that wall. Which meant only one thing.
She knew.
Lady Alexander had witnessed Marcellus’s reaction to the demonstration, and now she knew.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” The general sounded more bewildered than angry. “We must have a bad connection, because I’m certain I misunderstood you.” He let out a low chuckle. “For a moment, I thought you said my grandson was on Albion.”
“We have to get out of here!” Marcellus shouted.
Alouette was beside him in an instant, her eyes flooded with panic. “What’s wrong?”
Marcellus’s gaze darted anxiously around the courtyard. He could make out only one exit: the way they’d come in. “My grandfather knows we’re here.”
“What?!” Cerise bellowed. “How?”
“Lady Alexander just told him.”
“You mean, she …” Alouette glanced anxiously between Marcellus and the door back to the labs.
“Yes,” he answered her half-formed question as he eyed the three-mètre high brick wall surrounding the courtyard and scanned the surface for a good foothold. “We have to get over this wall. It’s the only way out.”
“That’s impossible!” The general’s voice in his ear was louder now, but Marcellus could hear the restraint. His grandfather was trying to keep his temper in check in the face of his shiny new ally.
“It’s too high.” Cerise’s eyes tracked up to the top of the wall. “We can’t scale it.”
“Move aside, people,” Gabriel said, pushing his