Free Emergence (Eden's Root Trilogy) by Rachel Fisher Page A

were the rats, abandoning their foundering ship.
    He’d tiptoed out of the tunnels to the seals, begging the codes to be the same that he’d learned for the unsealing sequence originally . They were taught this in case of emergency. If the colony needed to be abandoned, they couldn’t very well be trapped inside. When the code worked he felt his confidence returning. These people were morons. They didn’t deserve to live. That’s what he told himself as he blew all the seals, swinging the doors wide with a burning in his veins so strong that he was sure he would combust.
    He’d thought he would watch the Liars as they scattered, a salve to the burn of his rage. But he didn’t in the end. The first few groups to leave were crying, their faces puffy and red even from a distance, but his eyes fixed on the screaming children in their arms. The image, no, the thought, of children dying didn’t lessen his sense of justice, but it did increase his respect for their loss…for their sacrifice. Forgive the grownups, children, he’d thought, for they know not what they do.
    That was what made him turn away, what stole the ultimate satisfaction from his grasp . He’d shed his disguise and walked due East, directly into the Great Plains of the United States, just as it became the world’s largest new desert. No one noticed him or followed him, though he wouldn’t have cared if they did.
    His survival was a matter of instinct . Where his mind would have happily severed its bonds with this Earth, his body refused, forcing bitter lizards, peeled strips of cacti, and acid, piss-water from Godforsaken holes down his throat. Finally, on his knees in the mud, his eyes scratched and burning with dust, his stomach as pinched as a bad pea, the thought of Diaspora II floated into his mind.
    It jerked his will to life, choking and guttering like an old lawn mower, until the engine spun again and the blades swung, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh , and the thought of revenge drew him forward on tottering legs. That and the photograph in his pocket. It couldn’t have weighed a thing and yet it was lead against his chest, smacking and bruising him with every movement.
    “Father?” Silas’ brow was furrowed.
    “Yes, sorry ,” Carter said, startled. “Just enjoying the moment.” He grinned. That was actually pretty true. Would he like to see his prisoners squirm? Of course. But this time at least he got to announce himself, got to say, “ I did this to you. ” That was pretty satisfying. And even without seeing them, he knew that they now felt the clock ticking.
    Obviously , it didn’t matter to him if they “converted” or not, he was just giving them time to appease his followers. He knew that most, if not all, of the Eden colonists would reject his doctrine. In fact, he was counting on it. And he would derive great pleasure from seeing them marched into the Wasteland and abandoned . Maybe this time he would stay and watch .
    Of course some of them might convert, which would almost be more amusing. What if he could convince these idiots to reject everything that they believed in? How great would his own power be once Eden and Diaspora were no more? His mind drifted for a moment to Diaspora II. That would be a greater challenge, for sure. Never mind , he thought, shaking it off. One thing at a time.
    He cleared his throat . “Now, you may think that we are cruel, that we’re using coercion and not true open-mindedness to allow you to make up your minds. And yet, here we will give you food in a world that is dying for scraps. Here, you will be safe, guarded by our Angels of the Lord. Here, you will be given the Word, and a settlement filled with people of faith will await you, if only you can open your hearts. What you may see as cruel, we see as the greatest gift we can possibly give you: a chance to repent.”
    Sila s murmured approval from the corner where he sat in the shadows, his arms folded. Unlike Nona, Silas rarely joined Carter