Then Addison was on his back, a shadow looming over him. It was a blurred, not-quite-human outline, and it could see him. There was a mind here, and it was observing him keenly.
“Taka…” he tried, but the word wouldn’t form.
He was suffocating, gasping for air. Taka lay motionless by the guillotine, and at the front of court Hannah and Thibault were writhing and clawing at their throats. Both were surrounded by the shadows, faint shapes stooped over them. Addison stretched out his arm, beckoning, pleading, trying for one last moment of human contact, but instead his hand brushed the shadow.
The cold was instant.
Addison’s vision failed immediately, greying out, and a quick-moving numbness shot up his arms. It was surprisingly painless. He’d expected agony, so this wasn’t so bad. As he slipped down towards black, he tried to content himself with the knowledge that he’d tried. Tried and failed, but tried all the same. He had done something that meant something, and that was no small thing. It held meaning.
“Taka,” he coughed, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Then the shadow descended and he felt no more.
– Chapter 9 –
The Meaning You Make
A thudding, muffled but close.
Floating in delicious black, Addison ignored it.
“Ads...”
The noise was joined by pain, his chest throbbing in time with the pounding.
“Addison! Stay with me!”
His eyes flew open. Jerking upright, spluttering, Addison saw he was still in the courtroom, lying where he’d fallen. There was debris everywhere, ruins of benches and rubble scattered across the floor. On the far wall, or rather where the wall should have been, a roaring yellow-brown whirlwind was held back by some sort of crackling electrical window. Taka was kneeling over him, hands pressed to his chest.
“I thought we’d lost you!” he said.
“Lost me?” Addison croaked.
Taka sighed in relief.
“We thought you were just unconscious, so the marines fixed me and Thibault up first. Then we realised you’d touched one of their skinsuits. Not clever...”
He looked ghoulish. His face was covered in a spiderweb of black crosshatching, some kind of medical bandaging. Across the court, Thibault and Hannah were sat by the judge’s bench each draped in blankets. The Belgian’s wounds were covered in the same black bandages, but when he saw Addison looking he waved excitedly.
“Marines?” Addison repeated, utterly bewildered. “Skinsuits?”
“See for yourself.”
Taka helped him to his feet. Military types in black fatigues were bustling about the courtroom. Some were reading instruments, others talking in low voices and one had a mean-looking rifle trained on a row of grey figures kneeling on the floor. The levellers had been restrained, wrapped in sophisticated-looking manacles, and Addison could no longer read their faces. They were expressionless, blank.
“It’s gone,” Taka explained, as Addison’s hand went to the base of his neck “The marines didn’t know if the interpreter was full of nasty surprises, so they got rid.”
Addison had become so used to the device being there his neck felt oddly naked without it.
“Tak, what the hell is happening? Who are these people? Where did they come from?”
“Best you hear it from the horse’s mouth,” Taka replied. “The Commander will be over soon. In the meantime, come see the gang.”
Taka offered Addison an arm and together they limped over to Thibault and Hannah. The pair beamed as they approached and Addison suddenly found himself at the centre of a four-person bearhug.
“Good plan,” Thibault laughed as he released him. “Though next time I think it is you who gets the taser.”
“Not bad at all,” Hannah added with a wry smile.
“You’re both okay?” Addison asked, feeling more than a little dazed. “You’re not hurt?”
“We’re alive, thanks to you,” Hanna replied. “Your plan held up the trial long enough for the Samaritans to get here.”
“The who?”
“You’ll see,” she said, smiling mysteriously. “But just so you know, you definitely saved us. The Commander said there were only seconds in it, meaning if you hadn’t held the levellers up, delayed them as long as you did...”
Hannah drew her finger across her throat.
“Shh,” Taka interrupted. “Here he comes.”
One of the figures was striding down the aisle. Clad in black, helmeted and armed with another of the futuristic rifles, he was clearly in charge.
“You’ll need these,” Taka whispered.
He offered Addison a pair of familiar-looking glasses. Addison slipped them on and suddenly the debris was gone. The room was clearer, brighter, and little icons flashed around the black-suited men. He could also read the levellers. One, Two and Four were glaring at him, but Addison met their gaze and held it. One by one, they looked away.
The man in black approached.
“Are you all well?” he asked, voice muffled by his helmet. “Do you need further medical assistance?”
“All good,” Taka replied. “Though my friend here has a few questions.”
“Of course.”
“Erm, right,” Addison stammered. “Who are you exactly?”
“I am the Commander,” the man replied. “Leader of the Last Samaritans.”
Addison would have to take this one step at a time.
“And you’re human?” he asked
By way of reply, the man reached up and removed his helmet, revealing a human face.
A very familiar human face.
Addison almost screamed. It was One’s face. Same eyes, same nose, same curved mouth: identical in every single way to the leveller judge. Addison started to panic, cycling through an implausible series of explanations – a clone, a twin, an elaborate ploy – but it was only as the man continued to talk he realised it was the glasses playing tricks.
“The archives name you as Addison Moore?” the Commander said, in a much gruffer voice than the judge. “A levelled clone from the early 21st-century?”
“Yes,” Taka replied, patting Addison on the arm when he didn’t reply. “This is him.”
“And you have been here longest?”
Taka elbowed him in the ribs.
“It’s been a while,” Addison managed, before blurting out what was on his mind. “Why is your face like that?”
“My face?” the Commander
