Chapter 20 - What He Buried
The pounding was not from outside.
It was from below.
Someone was trapped beneath us.
Alive.
I held the key so tightly its edges cut into my palm.
Torres helped my mother onto a table.
“She needs medical attention.”
“I know.”
“Then we have to move.”
“No.”
I looked at the opening.
“Someone is down there.”
Mercer stared into the darkness.
“The final archive.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“My father told me not to open it.”
Sloane wanted me to open it.
My mother told me not to.
My father told me not to.
And somewhere beneath my feet, someone was pounding on the door.
The pounding stopped.
Then a voice came through.
“Mara.”
I froze.
My father's voice.
Not from a speaker.
Not from a recording.
Real.
I stepped toward the opening.
“Dad?”
His voice came again.
“Do not use the key.”
I looked at my hand.
Mercer whispered,
“Then why give it to you?”
I looked back at my mother.
Her eyes were half-open.
She whispered,
“Because he knew you would.”
The floor mechanism clicked.
The door opened wider.
I descended.
Torres followed.
Mercer stayed above with my mother.
The stairs ended at a circular room.
There was one chair.
One computer.
One steel cabinet.
And my father.
He was alive.
He was bleeding from his shoulder.
His gun lay several feet away.
I ran toward him.
He stopped me.
“Don't.”
I froze.
“You're hurt.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Sloane.”
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
“Why?”
“Because he got what he wanted.”
I stared.
“The database?”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
“The stars?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He looked at me.
“You.”
My heart sank.
“What did he get?”
“Your choice.”
I didn't understand.
“You keep saying I'm the target.”
“You are.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the only person who can decide what happens next.”
He pointed toward the computer.
The screen displayed a prompt.
INSERT SUCCESSOR AUTHORIZATION.
I stared.
“It wants my signature.”
“No.”
“It says authorization.”
“It's a test.”
“For what?”
“Whether you'll obey.”
I looked at him.
“And if I do?”
“The system will release the full archive.”
“To everyone?”
“No.”
“To whom?”
“The person who holds Northstar's legal authority.”
I felt cold.
“Sloane.”
My father nodded.
“He has been trying to obtain that authority for years.”
“How?”
“By proving the current structure is unstable.”
“My forged authorization.”
“Yes.”
“My credentials.”
“Yes.”
“My career.”
“Yes.”
“The broadcast.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“He orchestrated all of it.”
“Not all.”
“What didn't he control?”
My father looked toward the stairwell.
“Your mother.”
I swallowed.
“She shot herself.”
“She didn't.”
“What?”
“She wore body armor.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He almost smiled.
“She knew she might need to disappear.”
I exhaled sharply.
“She's alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she let me think—”
“Because Sloane was watching.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“You've all lost your minds.”
My father nodded.
“That is possible.”
I sat beside him.
For the first time, we were simply father and daughter.
No generals.
No archives.
No Northstar.
Just two people who had spent twelve years apart because one of them believed the lie was necessary.
I looked at him.
“Were you really dead?”
He thought about it.
“Yes.”
I frowned.
“That's not possible.”
“I was dead to the world.”
“You could have come home.”
“I wanted to.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because they would have followed.”
“They followed me anyway.”
“Yes.”
“You watched them.”
“I watched them watch you.”
“You let me believe I was alone.”
He nodded.
“I thought loneliness would make you independent.”
“It made me angry.”
His expression softened.
“That helped.”
I laughed through the tears.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“I missed you.”
“I know.”
“You missed everything.”
“I know.”
I looked at the screen.
“What happens if I refuse?”
The system beeped.
My father's face changed.
“If you refuse, Northstar collapses.”
“Good.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because thousands of people are protected by the same system.”
“Protected from what?”
“Retaliation.”
“Then expose them.”
“I am asking you to decide who deserves the truth.”
I stared at him.
“That isn't a decision one person should make.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“But that's the point.”
The words hit me.
Northstar had always been about deciding who got the truth.
Who got protected.
Who got destroyed.
Who got promoted.
Who got buried.
And now they wanted me to become the final person holding that power.
I looked at the two Silver Stars.
I placed them on the desk.
“They mocked me when I was a civilian.”
My father smiled faintly.
“They mocked everyone they couldn't classify.”
“I spent my whole life proving I belonged.”
“You never had to.”
“I know that now.”
The system beeped again.
A new message appeared.
SLOANE: AUTHORIZE OR WATCH YOUR MOTHER DIE.
I stared.
My father's face hardened.
“He's lying.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your mother is already gone.”
I looked at him.
“Gone where?”
He shook his head.
“She went after the second archive.”
I frowned.
“There are two?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
He looked at the wall.
I followed his gaze.
There was a photograph.
My mother.
Standing beside Victor Sloane.
But this photograph was different.
Recent.
Three months ago.
My mother was holding a newborn baby.
I stared at it.
“Who is that?”
My father went silent.
I stepped closer.
“Dad.”
He didn't answer.
I picked up the photograph.
The baby had a small silver bracelet.
Engraved with a number.
The same number as one of the accounts in the Northstar ledger.
I turned.
“What is this?”
My father looked at me.
“The final archive isn't about Northstar.”
I felt something cold move through me.
“Then what is it about?”
He whispered,
“Your brother.”
I froze.
“What brother?”
My father closed his eyes.
“The child your mother was forced to give them.”
I stared at him.
“There is no child.”
“There was.”
“When?”
“Before you were born.”
I couldn't speak.
He continued.
“Northstar tested whether loyalty could be engineered before it ever tested it on you.”
My hands began to shake.
“My mother had another child?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
“Dead?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
My father looked at the screen.
“That is what Sloane has been hiding.”
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
I turned.
Mercer appeared at the top of the stairs.
He was holding my mother's phone.
His expression was terrified.
“Mara.”
“What?”
“She sent this.”
He handed it to me.
The screen contained one message.
THE BABY ISN'T YOUR BROTHER.
I stared.
Then another message appeared.
HE IS YOUR SON.
I looked at Mercer.
“That isn't possible.”
He shook his head.
“I know.”
The phone buzzed again.
A video opened.
My mother appeared on screen.
She was somewhere dark.
Behind her stood Victor Sloane.
And between them was a young man.
About my age.
He looked directly into the camera.
My breath stopped.
He had my father's eyes.
Sloane smiled.
“Mara.”
The young man stepped closer.
My mother whispered,
“I am sorry.”
The screen flickered.
Then the young man spoke.
“Do you want to know why your father watched them watch you?”
I couldn't answer.
He smiled.
“Because he wasn't protecting you from Northstar.”
A pause.
“He was protecting Northstar from you.”
The screen went black.
I looked at my father.
He stared at the floor.
For the first time since I had found him, he looked truly afraid.
I whispered,
“Who is he?”
My father lifted his eyes to mine.
“The reason your grandfather stole the proof.”
The lights above us went dark.
Then the final computer screen illuminated with a single line.
SUCCESSOR IDENTIFIED.
MARA ELLISON.
And beneath it:
SECOND SUBJECT AWAKENED.
I stared at the words.
My father reached for my hand.
“Mara…”
I pulled away.
“You knew.”
He said nothing.
“You knew.”
Still nothing.
I looked toward the dark stairwell.
Somewhere above us, an alarm began to scream.
Somewhere across the country, the Northstar files were spreading.
Somewhere, my mother was alive.
Somewhere, Victor Sloane was waiting.
And somewhere in the darkness, a man with my father's eyes had just learned my name.
I closed my hand around the two Silver Stars.
Then I looked at the screen.
For twenty-three years, they had watched me.
Now, for the first time, I was going to watch them back.
May you like
But before I could take a single step, the computer displayed one final message.
MARA, ASK YOUR FATHER WHO YOUR REAL FATHER IS.
