The Uprising

Time has Come

Hi guys!

So a huge thank you to all the reviews! I love reading them all and I love the constant support so thank you to everyone who continues to review!

The next few chapters will focus on Ella and her visions but after that there will be a lot of bromance moments and bonding moments between the Garde, in-between fighting of course!

Please read on and enjoy!

Adam

"Man, I hate flying," Sam complains, wrapping his arms around himself. "Makes me feel sick,"

I watch him from the corner of my eye, hunched up on the window seat next to me. He looks young like that, vulnerable too, and I kind of feel sorry for him. He always feels inferior, below everyone because he doesn't have a cool legacy, can't fight very well and doesn't have any particular link to the cause, not like the Elders anyway. I understand the feeling all too well; sometimes I don't think I deserve to be here, fighting and planning with the Elders. I'm just a mog after all. It should be Hannah in my place, and Hannah with the legacy and Dust.

I'm simply second best.

"I love flying," Alicia replies, interrupting me from my moping. She's sat on a nearby chair, drawn up so that the three of us are sat in a sort of circle. "It's exhilarating. The speed. The potential threat of being shot down," she grins.

"We're not getting shot down," I reply, noticing Sam's paling face. "We're going to the Resistance's refugee camp. They're hardly going to shoot down an ally," I point out.

"If they even have the equipment to do that," Sam adds, trying to reassure himself more than anyone else.

Alicia just shrugs, looking outside the small window. We're in one of the Resistance's many cargo ships, this one filled with supplies and medicine for the refugee camp. It was Laws' idea to bring loads of supplies with us; after all, not only does the camp need it but it would also help a little if I was associated with being helpful and generous. I didn't want to tell her that I think it will take a hell of a lot more than bread rolls and painkillers to win the mogs over.

We're still about an hour or so away from the refugee camp but I'm already nervous. I tried writing speeches and thinking up ways to prove to the mogs that they could trust the Loric but it didn't work and I had to throw my efforts away in the end. No matter how desperate we are and no matter how much effort I put into the failed speeches, I can't see this working. The mogs' beliefs are too ingrained, too solid to destroy in a matter of days with a few fancy speeches. Yet here I am racing to complete an impossible mission.

Life sucks sometimes.

"Why do you hate flying?" I ask Sam, trying to distract myself. The feelings of hopelessness can sometimes be overwhelming and I need a distraction.

"Whenever we're on these ships it reminds me of the Games," Sam shivers, rubbing his arms. "Guess I'll never really forget them,"

"The war is worse," Alicia points out bluntly. "There's a reason they were called Games," she adds. Sam raises an eyebrow at her, looking sceptical, and I have to agree with him. Even for me, one of the members of the winning side, the Games were hard.

"At least here you get a chance to live," Sam replies calmly. "The chances are better, the weapons are better, we have far more allies...and there's no death quota to fill either," Alicia frowns, looking down at her lap and the gun strapped to her waist.

"But you're guaranteed to kill mogs in the Games," she points out. "Where we're going we have to make friends with them instead," Sam snorts and I see the tiniest glint of anger in his eyes. It takes a lot for him to get angry but I guess thinking about the Games is painful enough. It's another thing entirely to have someone question them, doubt them.