Cynetic Wolf

“We need to get you out there, Raek,” Paer said. “Get people united around hope. If we want a revolution we stand a chance at winning, they need a leader.” Did I really agree to this? “Lars, you’re a wizard with words and manipulation. Want to be in charge of that?”

“It’d be my pleasure, Ag,” Lars replied with a devious grin. “So, dark web press releases, videos, articles, animote and elite web… maybe a speech or two—oh, and TOR4. Am I missing anything?”

No one said anything.

“Raek.” Lars looked at me like I was the only one in the room. “You sure you’re okay with this? Talking about what happened... It humanizes you, shows your dedication. But it’s up to you, kid.”

They all looked at me, and I wondered again—not for the first time—how some sixteen-year-old wolfish kid from some middle of nowhere town got so far out of his depth. This was going to be harder than I thought, a lot harder. I stifled a protest, there was too much at stake.

“I’m in,” I said at last.

“So, this is all well and good,” Ganla remarked, “but have we figured out the most important part: how to take out the Board?”

“We don’t have to decide now,” Paer said to avoid a frustrating downward spiral. “We have until Operation Kiag to finalize things. After that, timing is everything.”

The meeting ended and a dent in the wall caught my eye. If those had been micronades instead of flashbangs earlier, we’d all be dead. I pushed the thought away as Lars, Zedda, and Obowe roped me into dinner. As long as it wasn’t loaf, again...

It was off hours when we got to the mess. The place was quiet, Anti singing away as he prepared a tantalizing meatball marinara. It wasn’t ready.

The half-empty metal serving trays were filled with bacon, eggs, and sausage—the staples of a happy, healthy, breakfast. I loaded up, Lars too, and we snagged coffee and an empty table in the corner.

“So, Hrun was murdered?” Zedda murmured at last in a pained voice. “He pretty much adopted me after my parents died.”

I put my arm around her. “Fitz and I thought so.” Wait, my hand was on her shoulder. No! I pulled it away, mortified. Did she know I liked her?

“So, how do we pull this off?” I said to keep things positive and divert attention. She hadn’t noticed, right? “It’s what they’d have wanted. They gave their lives to the fight and they wouldn’t want us wasting time and energy mourning. There’s always a solution if you find it, that’s what Fitz always said. ”

Zedda sighed. “Beats me.”

“I am a fighter, not a planner,” Obowe said. “Give me an opponent, and I will smash them with honor, but tactics were never my strong suit.” His huge shoulders slumped.

“Lars, Obowe, what would Fitz—I mean Lyam—have said? What would he do?”

“He’d think of everything. We’d brainstorm for hours,” Lars began, a distant look in his eyes. “We’d come up with plans and shoot the other’s down, finding flaws until it was perfect. I focused on details, he preferred big picture.” He paused. “Stripes would say ‘don’t think about Board members, think about the Board as a whole. Don’t think about individual battles, think about the war.’ We worked well like that.”

Could you be more vague? “We’ve thought about the Board, looked into ’em a ton. There isn’t much to go on.”

“Have you seen our files?” Zedda asked. “We have dossiers on each. It’s not much, but maybe you overlooked something,” she added with a hopeful smile. “Give me a second.” She tapped her smartband.

A screen appeared above the table and we moved our plates aside. “Here’s what we got. Feel free.” She made a four sign and passed out copies. We each grabbed a digital version, and I added mine to my SmartCore.

Skimming, I flipped through.

“Okay,” I said a minute later. “This is stuff we already knew.”

Obowe’s jaw dropped. “You read it all?”

Lars chuckled and told him about the paralleosis.

Obowe raised an eyebrow. “A genius.”

“Not exactly,” I murmured, face burning. “I read a little faster than normal, that’s all.”

“A little faster!” Lars snorted to rub it in. “Raek went from Brazilian Jiu-jitsu novice to besting me—a world class grappler with thirty years experience—in four weeks.” He elbowed my ribs. “He’s too humble.”

“Whatever.” I brushed off the compliment. “This is stuff we know. Five Board members, three emulates, two cynetics. Here’s the voting history for the last five years. Voted to increase numbers of DNS in towns, rejected a proposal for a thousand new emulates, authorized additional resources in the Broag sting, increased World Bank’s interest rate half a percent in 2096 and a couple smaller things. They agree on most things, but there’s a twenty percent higher incidence between emulates and cynetics with their fellow subspecies.”

“Wait!” Zedda snapped her fingers. “Did you say twenty percent higher? Seems high.” She raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

“You’re right!” I skimmed back, mind racing. My wolfish instincts were on the hunt, senses intensifying. “There might be something here.” How’d I miss that?

“They’re jealous,” Obowe replied matter-of-factly. “Who would not want to live forever without fear of death? How many cynetics have you alone killed, Raek?” he added, eyes proud.

“You’ve got a point,” Lars said. “Emulates… no one likes emulates, except maybe emulates, and probably not even them.”

“Zedda, Obowe, you guys came up with the idea, you tell the others,” I said. If I’d learned anything from Lars’ leadership books, it was credit where credit was due.

Brief smiles crossed their faces and Lars gave me an approving look.

My alarm buzzed. “Wow, time flies. We need to go!” I headed for more coffee. The last few days had been brutal. “Anybody else?”

They shook their heads and I poured.

Another notification. Breaking news. I opened the feed.

The camera panned to black-clad officers storming a nondescript gray building. ‘Authorities in Estovo raided another terrorist cell. The group—members of the animote terror alliance known as The Resistance—are implicated in the bombings of two elite hospitals in Zone Three, killing fifteen people, and the murder of several prominent journalists who’d written an anti-rebel story earlier this week. Sources within the DNS tell me we had credible evidence they were planning larger maternity ward bombings throughout the city.’

I slammed my fist on the wooden table and coffee spilled everywhere. Zedda jumped.

“Did we order an attack on a maternity ward?” I snapped.

“What? What are you talking about?” Obowe’s face was blank confusion.

“The news, the cell in Estovo. A hit on a hospital?” I stared icily at each in turn.

“What do you mean?” Zedda tilted her head. “We don’t have a cell in Estovo...”

“Are you positive?” My eyes never left hers. I had to be sure. “It’s all over the news.”

“That’s bullshit!” she swore. “We don’t even have a team in Estovo.” We don’t? “We’ve been trying for years. Area’s a DNS stronghold.”

“So it’s a lie?” I said.

“I know nothing of this,” Obowe replied. “We are not responsible. A hospital, Raek? Have we no honor?” He gave me a look that spoke volumes.

“I’m sorry.” I felt my face flush. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“That’s the point,” Lars said, calm and professional as always. “To turn the public against us. Can you prove it? Can you prove it wasn’t us?”

Obowe grumbled. “If we published a list of our bases… which we cannot.”

“There has to be a way!” I said. Think. “If we show the lie for what it is. That’d be huge.” But how?

“And if it was Raek who broadcast it, the half animote, half cynetic…” Lars grinned. “His reputation would take off.”

I grimaced. It was bad enough as it was... But he could be onto something. “Has it happened before?”

“It’s not the first time,” Zedda remarked

“Not good enough.” I shook my head. “We need specifics: times, dates, facts. We need a rock solid case.”

Lars thought Agtha would know.

I pinged her as we hustled to the Council room, small groups hanging about, discussing the carnage. They stared as we stormed by, our echoing footsteps the sole challenge to the awkward void of Lilia’s demise.

Paer flew in as we sat, gliding to her seat. “What is it?” she said in a hopeful voice. “I came as fast as I could.”

I opened the news story, activated the room’s holo and projected it for everyone. “This!” I explained what we were thinking.

When I finished, she said. “That wasn’t us. I don’t know how we prove it, at least this time, but I can think of eight or nine other instances. You’re saying we go public?” She looked skeptical.

Lars took over and outlined our reasoning. We needed public support to win this war.

“You cheeky bastard. That could work,” she said as he finished and the others filed in. It looked like we were in business.

The meeting flew by, a flurry of action and debate, prep and strategy. When we called it quits five hours later, I was pretty happy with the progress. There were a few things to sort out, but on the whole, things were moving.

But was it fast enough?