Jayna watched the smoke and flame rise into the darkness, giving the city below a red glow that made it appear hostile and harsh. The night had been mostly clear, but now the blanket of stars that hung over the spires and bridges was gone, obscured by the thick plume that was choked up from below. Her city was in pain, coughing up a cloud of death and destruction.
She was incredulous, truth be told. After she'd been sharply awoken by the frantic knocking at her quarters door and told the news she thought she'd be angry, or sad, or some strange combination of both mixed up in a concoction of grief and rage. But here she stood at the large South-West facing window looking out at the barracks burning below her and she was almost paralyzed with disbelief. She was aware of a sense of detachment, a misplacement of sorts.
This just doesn't happen.
It was a simple enough thought. Its simplicity seemingly at odds with the complexity and magnitude of the situation. However she could not stop her mind turning over the matter-of-fact nature of what she was looking at.
The most secure place on the continent. The hub of everything. Of our society. This just doesn't happen.
And then, somewhere in her subconscious, something else clicked into place with almost perfect clarity.
They've done it. They've breached us too.
First Province had been a test run, or a warning. She knew this as clearly as she knew the sky was blue.
Although she'd been awoken by a court guard informing her of the accident, she hadn't really been asleep. She'd been up until the early hours, her mind unable to rest or shut out the image of Omega Ark. She was still processing seeing the behemoth with her own eyes. History as she'd known it was unravelling as fast as her mind churned. Her restlessness had been like an itch she couldn't scratch. She'd paced the room, reading or researching any history she had access to about the Landing and initial colonisation of Lemuria. When she wasn't pacing she was doodling - images of what she'd seen, trying to leave a clearer impression of what was already disappearing into the archive knowledge of her mind. She'd written lists and charts too, including but not limited to: any possible biological or technological threat the ark posed, the pros and cons of accessing the ancient technology, any parties who may have an interest in it, and finally - any parties who may abuse the knowledge. Any administration-based method she could find to process the enormity of the secret that had been shared with her she'd done so. She read over the minutes from that mornings meeting and they had mixed with her new found knowledge into a foggy soup of paranoia and panicked planning. The terrifying possibility that the tiders had found a way to breach parliamentary defences collided again and again with the curious, yet fearful excitement she felt towards the arks existence.
Once the box is opened, then anyone can use it' contents.
Had that already happened? Was the Capital itself already enough of a treasure trove of corruptible possibility? Of course it was. Without a doubt. It always had been. Living in Equatorial District was literally living in a fortress, protected and robust in every sense; architecturally, technologically, and governmentally. Things didn't spontaneously blow up, accidents like this didn't happen.
Unless somebody causes it.
By the time she had eventually settled her frantic mind into a place where sleep seemed possible, the knock had come within minutes of her closing her eyes. She must have fallen into a deep unconsciousness almost instantly, as the thunderous explosion outside had not stirred her in the slightest. The frantic, aggressive knocking, however, had. The puzzling unpredictability of the human psyche.
And so she stood at the window, not really taking in any details of what she was seeing down below but merely allowing her eyes to glaze over it all, something to look at while her subconscious mind processed the scene and what it could mean moving forwards. The smoke obscured almost everything except the amber and blue flashes of the fire wagons as the crews worked desperately to suppress the flames, the occasional arcs of water cresting above and then falling back onto the flickering orange tendrils. It formed a rhythm that was almost soothing.
The window was firmly closed, but there was still a slight draft creeping in, bringing with it the faint aroma of burning brick and wood. The large chiffon summer curtain that still hung loosely after being quickly drawn aside, brushed her arm. It brought her out of her trance.
She turned away from the fiery carnage towards the large screen in her office space. It offered no comfort, just more destruction. High definition images of the scene outside played on a loop from various news channels and what she was unable to see through the window, she could see in perfect clarity in her apartment instead. Scrolling tickers along the bottom of the feed displayed estimated casualty numbers, speculated on causes or placed blame on numerous internal and external parties, but tiders was naturally the most common explanation and it did nothing to detract Jayna from her current train of thought, or to dissuade her from her suspicions. Tiders. The word flashed up innumerable times, each time chipping away at her calm a little more. According to the scrolling updates, the known casualties already numbered in the hundreds, both military and civilian. Hoppers and their families, adults and children alike.
Murdered.
She rubbed her eyes, forcing herself to keep an open mind to other possibilities but she couldn't. She hated herself for jumping to conclusions, it went against everything she had been taught. Jayna moved to the living area and perched on the edge of the sofa, still half watching the barrage of information in front of her. There was no definitive indication of what had happened of course, until the fires were out and the damage was able to be examined properly, all they had were frantic assumptions and guesses.
Tiders.
Although her exact ideas of what had perhaps happened weren't quite fully formed, they continued to stir in the back of her mind, gently stewing. Of course she had nothing else to do but stew, she'd been ordered to remain in her quarters until further instructions were issued, as was protocol for high ranking officials and members of the ruling body if there was a potential breach on Capital soil; but until that possibility was confirmed she was to remain confined and on alert. When the notification did eventually come through, it would be to either stand down, or evacuate.
"I should be out there," she said to no one. "Helping."
Or with the Cabinet, solving this. The key members of the Cabinet were exempt from priority isolation. She knew that they were assembled downstairs - they'd have all arrived within minutes of the explosion - and were no doubt planning, adapting, and sending and receiving endless updates and reports. It agitated her not to be with them, not with her father.
She started to get impatient. Her initial shock was now entirely replaced by a sense of urgency and helplessness. And anger. That started to rear its head too. She appreciated the clarity it brought as her head had felt foggy even before the news. Whether that was from being roused from a short but seemingly deep sleep, or from processing what she'd been shown that morning she couldn't be sure. Her entire understanding of history had been pulled from under her and her mind would not stop turning over the revelation and the questions it presented.
Could it be mainland terrorists? Representatives of the seceding outlying regions? Is the revolt further along than the Cabinet suspected? This seemed much more likely than tiders, and somewhat more comforting. It was perhaps a lie. But one she was happy to tell herself, nonetheless. She fixed her thoughts on that. It helped.
This disaster though, on the same day that her father had revealed the ark to her? It seemed too coincidental, and yet she couldn't see how they could possibly be connected. There were so many threads dangling in front of her and she had no idea which one to pull.
She picked up her datapad and thumbed off the security lock before placing it on her lap. She opened up her priority message threads before realising that she had nothing useful to say, and therefore no one to contact. Everyone she knew, or anyone of importance was either safe in isolation like her, or assembled in the Cabinet room downstairs. She suddenly felt incredibly lonely, not just physically isolated, but emotionally too. As she had no fully formed suggestions or ideas and everything that she could think of doing to help would already be being handled by the Cabinet and emergency services she wasn't going to clog up the threads with pointless queries and well-wishes. She threw the pad aside, frustrated, then thought better of it. Perhaps there had been some feeds uploaded to high security channels from surveillance cams, or any potential flyovers that may have offered further insight that the media couldn't -
There was an unusual thud at the door, an off rhythm knock. She heard the faint sound of voices on the other side.
Jayna swung herself off of the couch and headed to the small security monitor. Her mother stood in the hallway, facing off the two court guards permanently stationed outside the apartment. She watched on the monitor as her mother gesticulated at them, the two guards trying unsuccessfully to placate her. Jayna released the lock and opened the door.
"Sorry Heiress, but she was quite insistent -" the guard was cut off as Ophelia Suri breezed past him into the room.
"It's fine, Seargent. I'll take it from here." Jayna smiled and nodded her thanks.
"As you wish, my lady."
She closed the door. "Mother, what are you doing -"
"Out of quarters? Violating protocol? I was bored, claustrophobic and wanted some company."
"Ninaj and Laslo -"
"Have been sent home to be with their families, there's no need keeping them here unwarranted."
Despite being in her own night attire, her mother somehow looked radiant and far neater than she should have for the time of night. Her greying hair was tied up in a quaint bun that looked like it hadn't been slept upon and her eyes were alert and sharp under the barely noticeable makeup that tastefully shaded her lids.
"Have you even slept?" Jayna asked.
"I was up late, actually Ninaj and Laslo were still with me, going over submissions for the next exhibition." Her mother waved her hand causally. "So, was I in bed when the proverbial turd hit the windmill? No. I've been following it from the start. We heard the bang actually. Although bang seems a rather delicate word."
"If father knew you were here - "
"He does. I told him as much. I told him I was sending a message to check on Edric and reminding him that we actually have a son, as I assumed it would slip his mind."
"And what of Edric?"
"Well, very well. The school is on lockdown. High alert. All the usual. He's safe should the worst happen."
"You don't think it will?"
"I think accidents happen. Unfortunate accidents, but accidents nonetheless."
Jayna only nodded, solemnly. She suddenly found it very difficult to look at the woman.
Your mother and brother don't know, for their own protection more than anything else.
Her fathers words echoed in her head. It felt wrong, having this knowledge, keeping a secret of such import from the woman most dear to her in the world. Hopefully, as the months passed, Jayna would be able to push the ark to the back of her mind, almost forgotten. A brief wave of anger towards her father flushed through her.
"Jayna?" Ophelia moved to her, held her at arm's length. "What's wrong?"
Jayna forced herself to look up, keeping her face as normal as she could given the circumstances. She wouldn't betray her fathers trust. It would, after all, be treason.
"We lost three of the city's defence turrets tonight. In the explosion."
"I'm aware, yes."
"That still leaves us at eighty-five per-cent air defence capability. That's not including ASV's and additional armaments. We actually only need to be at sixty per-cent to have green level defence, but that's not what concerns me." It immediately felt better vocalising her thoughts, it helped to organise everything, and to try and form a clearer hypothesis.
Her mother sat, her smile proud. "I forget how much you've learned."
"After the Cabinet meeting, Father spoke about concerns among some of the regents, and in fact the general populace about a feeling of dissatisfaction with our tenure. There is talk of revolts, coastal factions seceding and the like. He's confident that the issues will be resolved-"
"He's worried, he's spoken of it often," her mother said simply. "I wouldn't say the speculation is completely unfounded, but what does this have to do with...." she trailed off, sighing. "You think tonight is domestic?"
Jayna shook her head, once again standing at the window, letting the scene below fuel her thoughts.
"What if this wasn't an accident? What if it was sabotage, or an attack? Conveniently focused on our military resources. Maybe it was aimed to take out the turrets specifically. Maybe it wasn't. Or maybe it was and has failed. In any case my mind keeps turning back to First Province and the way that their defences were disabled." Jayna fell silent, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. "And then, as if from nowhere, a somewhat similar attack -"
"If it is one." Ophelia interjected.
"- if it is one, occurs on Capital soil within two days? Coincidences only go so far." Jayna shook her head, trying to clear away the fog. "Separatists, tiders, cannons. It's all spinning around my head like I can only see pieces of the picture and none of it will clear or find its place. I know that if I was in that room with them that I could help. With full access to intelligence and data. Not locked out like some helpless damsel. I'm the successor to the Chair! I have every right to be in that room with them."
"Perhaps you're seeing patterns that aren't there -"
"You don't understand," Jayna said, shocked at how much petulance was in her voice. She steadied herself.
"You don't understand because you don't have access to the information that I do."
Ophelia was silent, she studied Jayna with the probing look that only a mother could give. Jayna looked away, fearful she may break under the gaze.
"What if First Province was a test run, Mother? What if it is tiders?"
"Those turrets were...controlled...turned against the city's own citizens," Ophelia said. "This - outside, this is not that. It is a horrible, horrible accident. Nothing more. The explosion has originated from inside the walls. Localised. There are no cannons pointing towards the Court,"
"Yet." Jayna felt the word land like a lead weight.
After a few moments of silence, Ophelia spoke gently, honestly. "What would you have us do?"
Jayna sighed, her whole body seeming to deflate.
"I honestly don't know."
Ophelia patted the couch and Jayna sat next to her, resting her head on her mother's shoulder. The woman's perfume gently caressed Jayna's nose, it was pleasant and comforting.
"The hopper who led the response to First Province, Commander O'Reilly, seemed so certain that the tiders had gained access to the weapons systems." She was surprised that O'Reilly had entered her thoughts, she'd been so preoccupied with everything else, she'd almost forgotten about the brave men and women who'd fallen in the disaster. She felt a pang of guilt.
"I'm unfamiliar with him," her mother said simply.
"Her. Mistakes were made. By us. By the cabinet. Arrogant, silly mistakes and it cost lives that mattered." Another wave of anger washed through her, she swallowed it. "What if we have gotten comfortable? Complacent? What if that is what led to yesterday? Perhaps tonight? We're a powerful nation but we aren't all powerful. Just look outside. I may have to manage this someday, and honestly I'm not sure if I want to."
And I'm not sure I want to sit atop that thing down there.
Her mother stroked her gently, listening without judgement.
"If we've grown so...arrogant, so dictatorial, then it's no wonder we're losing the people."
"Politics is, as politics does," her mother said. "It hasn't changed in thousands of years. It never will."
"Powell wants to punish Ashe Marvel," Jayna said simply.
"The sportsman?" Her mother said surprised.
"He was in the battalion. He made some... unorthodox decisions, disobeyed orders but it turned the tide. Seemingly, arrogance disapproves of arrogance."
"And what do you make of his decision?"
"I side with Commander O'Reilly. I think that minimising tragedy is what counts. Outside the box thinking is not something to be punished."
"Powell is a predatory bitch," Ophelia said simply.
"Mother!" Jayna sat bolt upright, her shock failing to hide her smile.
"More concerned about public media opinion than doing a fair and concise job. If there was a way for her to get your fathers chair, she would. Although if there was a fair and watertight way your father could oust her from his side, he would."
"I had no idea." Truthfully, Jayna was not entirely unsurprised, but to hear it said so brazenly was still a shock. She was still smiling as she stood up, stretching out. She needed to relieve herself and headed towards the bathroom.
"Excuse me," she said. "Keep that thought, Mother, I'm keen to hear more."
"I have no doubt you are." Ophelia laughed.
It was nice to hear the laughter, the tension and worry seemed to suddenly evaporate from the room. Jayna was glad to have her company.
She stopped. The headline on the news screen froze her in her tracks.
"Goodness me, there he is!" her mother said with equal surprise.
DISGRACED COLONIAL GAMES WINNER ASHE MARVEL RECOVERED FROM BARRACKS EXPLOSION.
The footage above the alert showed a small rescue crew escorting a stumbling, coughing Marvel through the destruction. He was wrapped in a blanket and was barefoot, possibly wearing very little else. The drone-cam moved in closer just in time to show the man vomit over the shoes of a medic before being laid on a stretcher. Tendrils of smoke drifted in front of the image.
The type changed to a smaller scrolling font. 'Dozen Gold Medal Winner Found Wandering Street, Naked and Intoxicated.'
"This will be one for his publicist to unravel," her mother said, her voice almost fading into the background.
"Mm,' Jayna mustered a non-committal grunt.
Turrets. Explosions. Tiders. Separatists. Arks. And now Marvel. Another ingredient into the miasma of paranoia. Another piece in the puzzle. Another, one could argue, unusual coincidence.
Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow, I'll have all the answers I want.
Unbeknownst to her, she would. At the cost of everything else.
