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The medicine knocks me out, and it’s a full day before I come around. When the doctors aren’t there, I test my legs by taking short walks around my room. I feel strong enough to go without a wheelchair. Still, I stumble when I try to stretch too thin and spring from one end of the room to the other. Nope. I sigh in frustration, then pull myself back into bed. My eyes shift to a screen on the wall, where footage from Denver is playing. I can tell that the Republic is careful about how much of it they show. I’d seen firsthand how it looked when the Colonies’ troops started rolling in, but on the screen there are only faraway shots of the city. The viewer can just see smoke rising from several buildings and the ominous row of Colonies airships hovering near the edge of the Armor. Then it cuts to footage of Republic jets lining up on the airfield, preparing to launch into battle. For once, I’m glad that the propaganda’s in place. There’s just no point in scaring the hell out of the whole country. Might as well show that the Republic’s fighting back.
I can’t stop thinking about Frankie’s lifeless face. Or the way Thomas’s head snapped back when the Colonies soldiers shot him. I wince as it replays in my mind. I wait in silence for another half hour, watching as the screen’s footage changes from the Denver battle to headlines about how I’d helped slow down the invading Colonies troops. More people are in the streets now, with their scarlet streaks and handmade signs. They really think I’m making a difference. I rub a hand across my face. They don’t understand that I’m just a boy—I’d never meant to get involved so deeply in any of this. Without the Patriots, June, or Anden, I couldn’t have done anything. I’m useless on my own.
Static suddenly blares out of my earpiece; an incoming call. I jump. Then, an unfamiliar male voice in my ear: “Mr. Wing,” the man says. “I presume it’s you?”
I scowl. “Who’s this?”
“Mr. Wing,” the man says, adding a flourish of cracked excitement that sends a chill down my spine. “This is the Chancellor of the Colonies. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The Chancellor? I swallow hard. Yeah, right. “Is this some sort of joke?” I snap into the mike. “Some hacker kid—”
“Come now. This wouldn’t be a very funny joke, now would it?”
I didn’t know the Colonies could access our earpiece streams and make calls like this. I frown, then lower my voice. “How’d you get in?” Are the Colonies winning in Denver? Did the city fall already, right after we finished evacuating it?
“I have my ways,” the man replies, his voice dead calm. “It seems that some of your people have defected to our side. I can’t say I blame them.”
Someone in the Republic must have given up info to the Colonies to allow them to use our data streams like this. Suddenly my thoughts rush back to the job I’d done with the Patriots, where the Colonies soldiers had shot Thomas in the head—the image sends a violent shudder through me, and I force myself to push it away. Commander Jameson.
“I hope I’m not inconveniencing you,” the Chancellor says before I can respond, “given your condition and such. And I’m sure you must be feeling a bit tired after your little escapade in Denver. I’m impressed, I must say.”
I don’t respond to that. I wonder what else he knows—whether he knows which hospital I’m currently lying in . . . or worse, where our new apartment is, where Eden’s staying. “What do you want?” I finally whisper.
I can practically hear the Chancellor’s smile over my earpiece. “I’d hate to waste your time, so let’s get to the meat of this conversation. I realize that the Republic’s current Elector is this young Anden Stavropoulos fellow.” His tone is condescending. “But come now, both you and I know who really runs your country. And that’s you. The people love you, Day. When my troops first went into Denver, do you know what they told me? ‘The civilians have plastered posters of Day on the walls. They want to see him back on the screens.’ They have been very stubborn to cooperate with my men, and it’s a surprisingly tiresome process to get them to comply.”
My anger slowly burns. “Leave the civilians out of it,” I say through a clenched jaw. “They didn’t ask for you to barge into their homes.”
“But you forget,” the Chancellor says in a coaxing voice. “Your Republic has done the exact same thing to them for decades—didn’t they do it to your own family? We are invading the Republic because of what they did to us. This virus they’ve sent across the border. Exactly where do your loyalties lie, and why? And do you realize, my boy, how incredible your position is at your age, how you have your finger on the pulse of this nation? How much power you hold—”
“Your point, Chancellor?”
“I know you’re dying. I also know you have a younger brother who you would love to see grow up.”
“You bring Eden into this again, and this conversation’s over.”
“Very well. Just bear with me. In the Colonies, Meditech Corp handles all of our hospitals and treatments, and I can guarantee you they would do a much finer job dealing with your case than anything the Republic can offer. So here’s the deal. You can slowly whittle away whatever’s left of your life, staying loyal to a country that’s not loyal to you—or you can do something for us. You can publicly ask the Republic’s people to accept the Colonies, and help this country fall under the rule of something better. You can get treatment in a quality place. Wouldn’t that be nice? Surely you deserve more than what you’re getting.”
