Deathwatch (The Faded Earth Book 1)(27)
Bowers ran a hand over his beard. “My point is that of all the sciences we lost, medicine, genetics, biology—these were the worst. Some data was saved, but the education and expertise needed to make it useful was gone. We have struggled to relearn much of it for a century. Our goal is to cure the Fade and eventually take back the world.”
“Then why the secrecy?” Beck blurted out. “If someone in the Protectorate doesn’t want you to find a cure, why not...eliminate them and go public? The people would support you.”
Bowers nodded ruefully. “Ah, you would think so. We know it goes much deeper than that. Someone with real power has quietly cut off research. Subtly, not raising any suspicion from anyone but those of us in the Movement, but the opposition is real. We’ve lost half a dozen Watchmen who tried to dig deeper.”
He watched Beck as he spoke, gauging her reactions. “If we tried to spread the word, the consequences could be dire for anyone who listened. To say nothing of what might happen to those who speak. For now it’s safest to work in the shadows.”
Beck grimaced. “And kill anyone who might let something slip.” A cure. It seemed impossible. The Fade had existed since before her grandmother was born. It simply was, like air or the infrequent rain. Knowing its nature—a disease—changed nothing in how much it felt like an inextricable part of the world she lived in.
“As for that,” Bowers said, “my answer to your question is no. I won’t kill you. Brogan vouches for your trustworthiness, and in any event I keep to the Tenets as best I can. To have even a chance of saving the world, I will sacrifice almost anything. Even my own honor. But I have never killed if it could be avoided. If you accept some light monitoring, I’ll take you at your word if you promise to remain silent.”
Beck studied the old man right back. Part of her wanted to argue the point, to make a moral stand about remaining constant—but that wasn’t the world they lived in. The Tenets mandated adaptability. Doing what was necessary. The hard truth was that some goals truly were worth those sacrifices. Hadn’t she risked her own life by deciding on a whim to override the drone controls when she found the stasis chamber? And that had only been a fear that the Deathwatch was up to something dire driving her. This was magnitudes beyond that pitiful worry in scope.
“That won’t be necessary,” Beck said. “I’ll take you at your word that you really would let me go and not just tell me that before having Eshton cut my head off. Maybe you’re right to have taken lives to keep this secret, maybe not. But I think I can accept that you at least act in good faith and try. Your people wouldn’t be so careful about keeping the secret otherwise. Silence is one way of saving lives.”
Bowers frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re refusing to be let go? You still choose death?”
Beck laughed nervously. “Oh, no. What I meant was I’ll take your other offer, if it’s still good. I’d like to join the Deathwatch.”
Part Two
I Am The Shield
13
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Fisher said when Beck told him the news. And kept saying over the next several days.
Beck stopped wiping down the bar and tossed the rag onto her shoulder. “I have five days before the next training cohort starts. Are you going to go on like this the entire time?”
Fisher, seated on his favorite stool, hunched over the bar as if protecting his drink. “I don’t like it is all. The Watch is...” He trailed off, apparently uncomfortable saying exactly what the Deathwatch was. Beck understood; having a less than favorable opinion could lead to trouble. Not with the Watch itself, so long as the sentiment didn’t lead to anything approaching organized resistance. Among the many other attitudes their armored protectors had to cultivate, pragmatism was high on the list. You can’t end the lives of citizens, even to protect others, and expect universal popularity.
No, citizens were the real danger. A small but fierce minority nearly fetishized the Deathwatch. More than one assault had occurred in Brighton over the years when someone publicly spoke ill of the organization.
But the bar was nearly empty. Only a pair of customers shared the space with them, and they were on the other side of the room. The implication was obvious to Beck.
“What, you think I’m gonna tell on you?” she asked. “I’m not thrilled with everything they do, but with them I have options.” Then, thinking back over the long conversation she had with Eshton and Bowers after agreeing to join, she leaned in close. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about. But keep in touch with those friends you told me about, okay? The ones who have...options outside the Rez.”
Fisher went still. “Why? What do you know?”
“Nothing,” Beck said quickly. “I did something stupid that made going into the Watch the best option, and if I screw up again I don’t want it to blow back on you. So if I send you a message telling you to lay low for a little while, just do that, okay?”
It was better than telling him the truth—that if the Movement was discovered and whatever forces were against it retaliated, Brighton might become a target. Fisher didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded. “Sure. Just be careful, okay? They try to hold any youthful indiscretions against you, don’t let them. Leave if you have to. I have your back.”