Order of Magnitude

LXVI. A New World

     Turner stood in front of the crowd, safe in the underground cavern of SubTerra. After everything he'd been through, the walls didn't seem as confining as they had once been. Three days had passed since their victory over Jacques, and every night had brought with it the best sleep he'd ever known. He truly felt safe.

     Not to say the past three days had been easy. Tensions had mounted, with the SubTerrans living under the same roof as their conquerors. Every now and then, an argument would start between two fighters with strong egos, but it rarely went beyond words. The rest of the groups remained calm and the move toward peaceful coexistence happened slowly—very slowly—but from what Turner could see, it was happening.

     The Lost rested and healed their wounded with the superior resources that SubTerra had on hand. In exchange, Carlisle offered to trade with them valuable food and materials. After they left, he wanted to establish a partnership between the two communities. He asked Chandra to resume her position as leader, but she refused. She didn't have the heart to guide the same parves that had ousted her, so Tuner was appointed instead.

     He stood in front of the two groups, banded together by fate, and addressed them as one. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began. His voice carried well over the stark silence of the audience. "Can I have your attention please."

     Every eye turned toward him. A memory flooded back, of him standing in front of his home community, asking them to risk their lives to save Jacques from the lab. He hoped that this speech didn't have as dire consequences as the first one.

     "I understand this is a unique situation for everybody. I want to thank you all for doing your best to keep peace between our two groups. We have a lot in common, and hopefully we can learn a lot from each other." He looked around. Nobody moved, nobody made a sound. "Carlisle and the rest of the Lost wish to extend their thanks as well. It's an adjustment for everybody, and if you really can't stand these guys, that's fine. Just keep the peace for a few more days. They'll be returning to their homes soon as our strongest allies."

     Carlisle applauded and hooted. He'd been drinking the SubTerran ale all day and had clearly grown a taste for it. He drew scattered laughter from his own army and groans from the SubTerrans. Turner waited for the room to settle back down before continuing.

     "I know a lot of you got swept up in the energy and the ideals that Jacques stood for: Freedom, pride... revolution." The audience shifted their feet. "And these ideas aren't bad. I believed in him, just like you did. The only difference between me and him is I don't want to murder millions of innocent people to make it happen." A smattering of applause, some even from the SubTerrans. "I'm not going to tell you to forget about freedom. It's too important an ideal to let die and it must be fought for. But we need to do it more rationally. With wisdom instead of terror."

     More claps, more cheering. Chandra led the charge, a smile on her face as she hooted and hollered louder than Carlisle. Meghan joined in, then, slowly, so did the rest of the audience. Turner nodded, then finished his speech.

     "If we've learned one thing about this whole ordeal, it's that we have set an example for parves around the country. We've been leading the charge in matters of war, and we shall do the same in matters of peace. I'm sure it goes without saying, but our attacks on the humans are over. After a few weeks, things will start to settle down up there. And that is when we make our move towards a peaceful resolution." A murmur from the crowd. "I can see this doesn't sit well with a lot of you, and I get it. No one wants to go back to being second-class citizens. But, trust me when I say that peace is the only way we can achieve victory. It's going to be an uphill battle. Revolution is much harder to achieve through peace than through violence, but I guarantee the results will be worth it."

     The crowd broke off into cheers again. To his ears, it sounded as if their applause had become louder, more united. A smile came to him. He put his hands up in a symbol of victory.

     Movement in the back of the cavern. Some man dressed all in brown mingled amongst the crowd, hopping and skipping like a child. From his position, Turner could hardly see the man, only his exaggerated movements. A few of the others seemed to notice him as well; he drew the attention of every parve he bounced past. The strange man drew closer. Something about him didn't sit well with Turner. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he had the aura of a bad dream, something he'd seen maybe in a nightmare.

     The man held his hand up. A quick flash of silver and Turner felt himself being lifted off his feet. The ground hit his back with a strong thud, knocking the wind out of him. Blood dripped into his eyes, and for the first time he noticed something strange sticking out of his forehead. He was vaguely aware of the shrieks coming from the crowd. Then, the light dimmed and Turner felt cold.

     It was the last thing he felt.