Chapter 30: Silvio

Everything hurt and nothing made sense, but Lily tried to hold herself together.

“Michael,” she repeated.

“No,” he said slowly. “My name is Owen. Are you all right?”

Lily wasn’t all right and maybe she never would be again. As the initial shock passed she realized this man had a lined face and silvered hair. But the resemblance went beyond the familial; they had the same face, a few decades apart.

Owen pointed at himself, excited now. “You’ve seen someone who looks like me, haven’t you? Exactly like me.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Owen — it was so hard to look at him — beckoned for her to sit in the one uncluttered chair while he took a stool. Aiden lounged against the wall.

“It’ll be easier if you tell me what you know, first,” he said. “Then I can explain.”

Lily found herself telling him everything, editing heavily and speaking to her clasped hands.

When she finished, Aiden looked thrilled.

“Holy shit,” he said, talking past her to Owen. “I heard about that out in the Borderlands. An Operative in the Federation. I thought it was a campfire story.”

“What do you mean you heard about it,” Lily demanded, sharper than she’d intended.

“Merchants love to talk. And there’s this thing called “radio”, maybe you’re familiar, but—” Aiden rubbed his eye. “We always want to know about rogue Operatives. Don’t we.”

Owen frowned at him.

Lily was still trying to process. “That’s the one I’m looking for,” she said. “I need— I need your help.”

Owen smiled a familiar thin smile that made Lily’s heart jump up into her mouth. “Let me tell you what I know, first.”

He did. It was more unbelievable than his face.

—

“Copies,” Lily repeated. People couldn’t be grown in tanks like lettuce, that wasn’t how it worked, but here he was in front of her. A living, breathing impossibility.

Owen nodded gravely. “So your friend was another 74—”

“His name is Michael.”

“But what was his designation?”

“Echo 1074.” Lily gripped the seat of her chair.

“That means he was assigned to Echo Base, and he was the tenth Operative 74.”

What if she found him but it was just another copy and not Michael at all? She would be able to tell. She would.

“I need to find him,” she said. “I need to get him back. You’re like him. You made it out, you understand.”

Owen paced a tight path in front of his desk, navigating haphazard stacks of materials. “What’s your name?”

“Lily.”

“I won’t lie to you, Lily.” She could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “The Coalition shoots deserters. Reconditioning is the best case scenario, but if he survived that, there won’t be anything left for you to save.”

Lily was very familiar with that scenario; it visited her dreams most nights. “He’s alive. I’m going to Delphi to get him back, but I need someone to help me get in.”

“In?”

“Into Alpha Base.” She showed him her palm. “They have these scanners, but Operatives can access anything. You’ve got Operatives working for you. We could make a deal.”

Judging by Aiden’s uncomfortable shifting and Owen’s carefully blank expression, she’d caught them off guard.

“You, uh, didn’t say anything about breaking into Alpha Base,” Aiden said. “I thought you were just looking to kill some Operative.”

“I am, he’s in Alpha Base. So is Michael,” Lily said. “Name your price.”

“Maybe I wasn’t clear before,” Owen said. He wasn’t smiling now. “Your friend is gone. Whatever is left only looks like him.”

Lily folded her arms.

“I know how much this means to you,” Owen continued.

“You don’t.” She had no more time to waste on empty words. “At least give me supplies and a map of the territory east of here.”

Owen didn’t refuse, but he didn’t agree either. He just sat down stiffly, and Lily knew it was over. “I wish I could help you.”

“Yeah.” She swiped her hand angrily across her eyes. “Me too.”

She marched out ahead of Aiden, striding toward fresh air and open sky.

—

The sun had mostly set, but electric lights made that irrelevant. Lily’s heart lurched as she stood on the steps and breathed deep. Meat was cooking out among the tents. Somewhere a band was playing.

“So.” Aiden joined her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You got yourself a man. Not what I was expecting, to be honest.”

“I’m sleeping in the stables,” Lily said. “I’d appreciate a bath.”

“We’d appreciate it too.” Aiden craned his neck, then grinned and waved.

Anya loped over, pink-cheeked and beaming, her hair loose around her face. She gave Aiden a peck on the cheek and signed something.

He laughed. “First off, her name’s Lily, so you owe me a drink. No, I said it would be a flower, so I win. Second, her man’s in Delphi. Yeah, I know, that’s what I said!”

Anya pretended to give Lily’s shoulder a playful shove, but wisely did not connect. She asked Aiden something else.

“Get this: he’s an Operative from your batch. Owen Junior. What’re the odds? So we were both wrong.”

Aiden turned to Lily. “We had a bet, see. Anya thought—”

But Lily didn’t hear what Anya thought, because her face had gone to stone. It was abrupt, like a candle had been snuffed out.

Aiden trailed off. “Darlin’, you all right?”

Anya blinked. She squeezed Aiden’s arm, signed a brief aside, and jogged off away from the Library.

He frowned at her retreating back. “The hell…”

Down the lawn, something exploded with a joyful bang and a chorus of youthful, ragged cheers. Glass shattered. A tent sagged and listed, then collapsed. More yelling followed.

“Ok. Great. Fucking cadets.” Aiden ground the heel of his hand into his eye. “I have to deal with that. You good? Sure you don’t want a room?”

She was sure.

“You don’t want to…” he waved his hand at the tents. “These little turds graduated today, so…”

Lily would have to smile and talk and move around like her insides hadn’t been scraped out with a spoon. “No. I’m tired.”

The stables were dark and quiet. She washed up in a bucket and made a bed in an empty box stall.

Moist flecks of hay drifted down onto her stomach; her piebald’s ugly face leered over the partition, chewing busily. It curled its lips back and tossed its head.

“I’ll sell you for meat,” Lily threatened, but her heart wasn’t in it.

She listened to the comforting sounds of large animals breathing, the distant hubbub from the field and the hollow thud of her heart, but when sleep refused to come she put her on boots and slipped outside.

Crickets peeped in the tall grass. Music played faintly in the distance, accompanied by drunken singing.

No one stopped her on her way to the cool, domed building, or as she followed the narrow hallway until she stood outside the doorway again. A thin finger of light spilled out.

Owen didn’t seem surprised to see her. “Come in, I’m just cleaning up.”

Pain jabbed at Lily’s chest. “Sorry to bother you.”

He smiled, and something inside her came close to cracking. Even his eyes were the same. Especially his eyes. “Please, sit. I know why you’re here.”

The workbench was immaculate, but the room itself was still a shambles. Lily sat and watched him sweep scraps of leather into a pile, her gaze wandering over shelves of half-finished books. A battered radio played soft, dusty music.

“Do you,” she asked, at last.

With a sigh, Owen set the broom aside and leaned against the workbench. “I’ve lost people too, and I’d give anything to see them again. But I’m not him.”

Lily gave a listless shrug. “I know.”

“Then maybe I don’t know why you’re here.”

Good memories never stayed and bad ones never left. She had forgotten what his voice sounded like. “Why are there Operatives in New Dallas?”

He fixed her with a calculating look. “You’d be surprised how many of us defect. Some claim asylum in Memphis, others we find half-dead on the battlefield. All are given a choice.”

“Join or die?”

“The same choice I was given. The Coalition wouldn’t be so generous.”

“So it’s obligation,” Lily said. “That’s what makes them follow you.”

His smile was a little sad. “No. But I think you knew that.”

Pain pricked needle-sharp. She was used to it. “It isn’t in me to beg, but please. I need to get him back. There has to be someone you can send.”

When he looked at her she saw neither Owen nor Michael — just Operative 74, cold and uncompromising. “I’ll outfit you for the journey, but I won’t order any of my people to a needless death.”

Lily stood. “I had to try.”

“I know.” Owen switched the lights off and followed her out. “If there’s anything else I can do…”

There were things she’d wanted, once. She was sure of it. “No. I’ll be on my way in the morning.”

Owen wished her luck and said a few other parting platitudes, but it all sank deep into the open pit of Lily’s soul. When they parted ways she didn’t allow herself to watch him walk off into the dark.

—

Lily trudged mechanically back to the stable, shouldering through the door to find a lantern burning in an empty stall. She hadn’t left it that way.

She leveled a pitchfork like a spear, but lowered it as Anya stepped out of the shadows, hands up. Smiling.

“Hi,” Lily said, slowly.

Anya pointed to two overstuffed packs, nestled in the hay. She waved at a black mare and Lily’s piebald, saddled and ready. Then to herself.

Then she produced Lily’s pistol and 63’s knife, presenting them with an enormous grin. It needed no translation. It needed no explanation.

“Thank you.” Lily held the weapons to her chest. “Thank you, thank you…”

Someone kicked the door noisily open, startling the horses. “Anya? I saw you come in here. Hellooo…”

Lily spun, pistol out, and Aiden threw his hands over his face and staggered back. She caught a potent whiff of whatever he’d been drinking.

“Woah! Hey! Fuck! How’d you get that gun? What—” Then he noticed Anya standing with the horses, and his eyes narrowed in dawning comprehension.

Lily kept the pistol on him. “You coming too?”

“No one’s going anywhere. Anya, think about this.” Aiden was sobering up fast. “Let’s put our guns down and talk this out.”

Solemnly, Anya picked up a coil of rope.

“You can’t be serious,” Aiden protested, even as Lily herded him into a stall and Anya tied him securely to a support beam. “I bet that’s not even loaded.”

“Wanna find out?” Lily thumbed the safety off.

“Nope.” Aiden watched Anya’s frantically signing hands. “Oh, really? Hey. Untie me and I’ll explain something too.”

Lily shoved the pistol through her belt and snatched up the reins. “You gonna keep quiet?”

“I’m gonna yell myself purple,” Aiden promised darkly.

He made good on that threat even though a makeshift gag, muffled profanities following them as they urged the horses into the sticky summer night. The party drowned him out, though, and it covered their exit too.

Anya handed the young sentries at the city gate a cloth-wrapped bottle and got two rifles in exchange. Scrip and cigars changed hands, and the soldiers opened a little door just wide enough to lead a horse through.

Lily checked the safety and slung the weapon over her shoulder, turning up her coat collar as they galloped out into the dust and dark of the flatlands, riding east.