Cullsman #9

by Michael John Grist

  I will see my daughters. I will see my wife. I am ready.

  * * *

  The coupling takes a month. I spend that time at the windows of the Hook station, far above the planet's crust, numbly watching as the Host sucks the Second into its center. Billions will die. My family will live. I am a hero, and I do not know how to feel.

  While we wait, we are to undergo the slow process of debriefing. This too is part of the Cull, designed to repatriate us, to welcome us back.

  Eryllin stops at my side, where I sit staring out of the glass. "I will not tell them how you almost surrendered," she says. She points to the other forty-three. "None of us will."

  I put my hand on her shoulder. Perhaps it is the first time we have touched. "Tell them," I say. "Let them know, that the Cull will be better prepared."

  She nods, then is gone.

  Around me I hear the others talking, still. Few of them speak to me, but I know the questions they are asking. They are the same questions we have all wondered for so long.

  We watch for days as the Host splits open, its black outer shell yawning wide to reveal the lights of the endopolis inside, lining the concave inner walls like distant glimmering stars. In the center lies the jagged lump of the old Second, a heart extinguished.

  I watch for days as the Host engulfs us. The endopolis becomes the sky of a perpetual night, as the sun's light no longer falls here, absorbed for power by the outer shell of the Host. I watch as all my tugs launch, and align the Hook with the Latch. Everything is slow, ponderous, the movements of celestial bodies changing the natural order forever.

  I am last to debrief, and I leave the unfolding tableau to complete this final stage of the Cull. There are two of them in the room, a man and a woman, the first I have seen from the Host in twenty years. They neither smile nor frown as we begin. They show me no sign of the honor I have been promised. I am no ruler of a world any longer. I am but another cog in a line.

  Over three days I tell them everything. They question me most about Laret, but I have no special insight to share. I do not know why he did what he did.

  At the last they tell me of my wife. She remarried three years after I left. Since then my daughters have been raised by another man. Of course they want to meet me, the man and woman reassure me, but my daughters are women now, with their own lives. They are not the young girls I have watched dance through my rooms for the past twenty years. I cannot expect life to be as it was.

  "Of course I know that," I tell them.

  Now they smile, in tandem, and I wonder that this too is part of the Cull. How many times has this process been enacted? How many times have Cullsmen come back to face this?

  I thank them and leave. I stand at the glass by Eryllin's side, and take her hand. She looks at me and smiles. I see in her eyes the same thing she must see in mine.

  That night we retire to the same chamber. We do not need to speak. Our lovemaking is slow at first, but grows urgent as we continue. At the last I feel twenty years of nothing rattling loose within me. As we lie in each other's arms, I feel free.

  * * *

  THE CULL NEEDS YOU

  There are few of the signs, now, only those left rusting in place, waiting to be replaced. The next Cull will not be sent for fifty years.

  It is warm here, lit by the fresh core-moon overhead. The sky is a faint blue and the air is redolent of flowers. I recognize some of the scents from the Second, their seeds carried on the transpiration winds, to settle in the dirt of the Host.

  I walk along the polished bitumen decks, heading to a place I once called home. There are people gathered in the streets, sipping drinks from long-stemmed glasses, settled around picnic tables; all of us waiting.

  I look up through the sky, to the dark bulk of the world I Culled. The landmasses are still recognizable, and I can make out the dimly lit capital cities glowing like stars in the day-lit sky. I wonder how they feel, to watch their world dying to succor ours. I wonder on the traitor Laret Ark, who died trying to save them.

  I scuff a blooming weed with the toe of my boot. It is green and young. The air smells of incense and roasting meat.

  * * *

  Sylabry greets me at the door. I remember her now. It is all I can do to keep tears welling up in my eyes. Behind her will be Glaya with that old doll, and Foral, and together we will dance. The stuff of dreams, twenty years gone, and I have missed it all.

  She steps up, puts her hand to my cheek, and I feel no shame as the tears spill over her fingers. This is what I loved, I remember. This was my life.

  "I waited," I say. I cannot say it clearly, for fear I will choke on emotion. But she hears me.

  "I knew you would," she says, and pulls me into an embrace.

  We remain like that for a long time. When I am calm again, we walk, around the streets where we once lived. She is still beautiful, though the lines in her face have deepened. She tells me of her life, of the girls, of the man she married, and I can only feel happy for them. I am not jealous of him, I would not try to steal them away; I am only sad it was not me.

  "He's a good man," she says at last. "He raised our daughters well."

  "I love you," I say. The words come out unexpectedly, but once they are said, I am glad it is done. It is true, and though it cannot be true for us any longer, I want her to know.

  She takes my cheeks in both her hands, kisses my lips, then looks into my eyes.

  "Thank you," she says.

  Then she walks away.

  * * *

  I wander the street parties in a happy daze. When Eryllin drifts to my side and takes up my hand, I hardly notice. Her fingers stroke circles against my palm. We sit down in the middle of the celebrations and watch fireworks splash across the sky.

  "To a new life," she says, raising a glass.

  I take my own, raise it to hers, and we drink.

  Soon after, the first drops of the Great Rains begin to fall.

  7. HUNTING GROUND

  REN, TEKALUS, LORIE

  They pick up the blip off the bait drop corner, burning bright green on the inner screen of their visors, flashing with a rapid-fire heartbeat. It's the strongest they've ever seen, each blood beat swelling like a tiny supernova, waves lapping across their in-screen maps, washing out the grey map-lines of buildings and roads beneath it.

  "He's a fat one, isn't?" says Lorie, plumping out his black exo-arms like they're resting on a fat belly.

  Ren and Tekalus wince at the static burst in their helmets, flip the comms off.

  "Shut up, would you?" says Ren.

  "You oaf," says Tekalus.

  Lorie lets his arms drop back to his weapon, a smooth black tube slung over his shoulder, hinged at its rear to his exo-frame shoulder.

  "I'm just saying, it's a strong pulse."

  "So that makes him fat?" asks Ren

  "It's just a joke. You guys don't get anything."

  Ren sighs, his breath crackling through the visors comms. "Yeah, funny. Look, he's probably not fat, OK. The signal's big, could just mean he hasn't eaten for ages, or he's hypoglycemic."

  "That's right," adds Tekalus. "It's not a measure of how much blood he's got, just how much tracer he's pumping in his veins."

  "I know that, it was a joke!"

  "And look at how fast he's going, you think a fat guy full of bait could move like that?

  "Just shut up, alright? I know this, I-"

  "Settle down," says Ren. "Just look at him go."

  The other two fall silent, watching the green blip dash round a building some ten blocks distant, its pulse rippling out to distort the screen. Ren runs his gauntleted hands on the steering yoke of his motex, slides his armored legs into place, and guns the engine. The others follow suit, see each other's heart rates spike with excitement in their visors, as the green blip stops for a second, maybe skips a beat.

  He heard. Now it's a hunt.

  Ren tears off into space, leaving the other two stranded at the Out. Within seconds they follo
w.

  The Dome's ground whips by grimy and splintered beneath them. Overturned cars lie like dried up ants in dead road-beds, curled and dim in the harsh motex under-lights. Skyscraper ground floors leer at impossible angles, held rigid but buckled under the weight of the Dome.

  Ren's voice crackles through the visor to Tekalus and Lorie.

  Ren- Call if you get eyes on.

  Tekalus- Yeah. Pretty dark sector this, huh?

  Ren- Level 3 on the listing. Fatboy out there must be resident, the way he's moving round. He knows the place.

  Lorie- It was a joke, just stop saying it OK?

  Tekalus- You sure this sector's licensed right now? I don't read any other hunters.

  Ren- They're here. Got a message from a contact, said they were emptying out the blocks down by the river, flushing them all here.

  Tekalus- What contact?

  Ren- Just another hunter, said it was a good haul. Trust me.

  Tekalus- Alright. He say what kind of targets they get?

  Ren- Fitter than the dregs, he said. They feed them up, run them regular to keep them in shape.

  Tekalus- Good, we need a challenge.

  Ren's motex swerved in mid-air, as they neared the green blip.

  Ren- That street, the raised area, see it? Quadrant X, looks like an old cinema lot. We'll stop there.

  His motex lands smoothly, brakes along the rooftop as his fans kick out. He flips the audio catch in his helmet as Tekalus pull up alongside, hears the muted judder as his engine throbs down.

  "So how you wanna do this?" Tekalus asks, dismounting.

  "I think solo. Bit of competition."

  "Every man for himself then."

  Lorie glides in and cuts his engine. "He's just a few blocks away."

  "Yup. Were going after him solo," says Ren, checking over his suit and weapon.

  "Trophies?"

  "Subtle, I think," says Ren. "Knucklebones, maybe. I've got none of them."

  "I want a skull," says Lorie.

  "Stop whining," says Tekalus.

  "No skulls," says Ren. "Not this time. It's crude."

  "Only because you've both got skulls."

  "No, that's not it," says Ren, then pauses. "Skulls are too easy to trace."

  Tekalus turns to him. "What?"

  Ren shrugs. "So being here might not be entirely legal."

  "You just said this zone was licensed.

  "I didn't say that, I said there were blips to hunt. You're free to leave, though, if you like. Tek?"

  Tekalus shrugs. "I'm game."

  "Lorie?"

  Lorie buckled his weapon tight. "I get it. No skulls."

  "Good boy," says Tekalus, whacks Lorie on the shoulder with a clang.

  "To business then. There's a generator cusp in the upper left, we should be pretty close right now. Stay away from it, it's gonna be hot. He won't go there if he's local, so it shouldn't be a problem. If you get lost, hurt, scared, whatever, just let us know and you'll be fine."

  Tekalus makes a snorting sound into his comms. Lorie hits him back.

  "Again, call if you need help. Black lights all the way, maybe red, but don't over-use them. The visor's are better if he's distant. Careful with the tubes, be sure one of us isn't nearby. Anything else?"

  "If he's fat I want one of your skulls," says Lorie.

  "Fine," says Ren. "Deal."

  "Idiot", sighs Tekalus.

  "Any special point of entry?" asks Lorie.

  "Whatever you like," says Ren. "Every man for himself." Then he jogs off into the darkness. Seconds later, Tekalus and Lorie peel off too.

  * * *

  They track the blip until it drops within the generator's heat-field, top left of the sector. Red zone. Each of them stop, puzzled, to watch the inner screen of their visors.

  The blip speeds up, flashes faster and harder, wending its way through intestinal corridors deep inside a big skyscraper in the generator's shadow. Offices probably. It changes elevation in a lift shaft, races along a long thin walkway, out into a wide open space underground, across, deep into the generator's heat spill.

  Then it stops. Comes to rest by a thick wall, corner to a fresh corridor after the open space, and it doesn't move, and it doesn't pulse. Sighs bleed through the visors.

  Ren- He's dead.

  Tekalus- Why would he go under the generator like that?

  Ren- Fear. He knew we were coming. The heat got him, knocked him down.

  Lorie- Maybe he's just tired. He's resting.

  Tekalus- Don't be an idiot. Your heart doesn't stop when you're tired. He's dead.

  Ren- Where are you both?

  Tekalus- I'm south of the complex he's in now, maybe a block.

  Lorie- That's miles away! What are you doing there?

  Tekalus- It's called strategy.

  Ren- Where are you, Lorie?

  Lorie- I'm skirting the entrance. It's only the lip of the generator, how bad can it be?

  Ren- Bad enough. I'm calling this off, we're done.

  Lorie- Why? It's only a few hundred yards from me. I want his skull.

  Ren- No skulls, remember? No nothing. We're leaving now, call your motex and I'll meet you at Tekalus' position.

  Tekalus- Second that, I've already called mine.

  The green blot still stains the visors, unwinking but bright.

  Lorie- I'm going in.

  Ren- That's a bad idea, Lorie.

  Lorie- It's only a little radiation, what the hell is this suit for, if it can't take a little fringe heat?

  Tekalus- Lorie, get your ass back here.

  Lorie- I'm already in.

  Lorie's marker enters the building on their visors, and they watch.

  LORIE

  Walking down a corridor, getting hotter. The blip remains static. Infrared is useless now, the walls are too hot and black light only picks out movement.

  There's no movement ahead, the blip is still. Tekalus and Ren are shouting on the comms, but he doesn't switch them off. Realizes, this is the closest he's been to one of the hot-spots. He feels his palms sweat inside the heavy black gloves. Tightens his slick grip on the black tube, nestles his fingers into the 3 trigger points.

  The long walkway stretches ahead, and beyond that is the open space. From the specs it looks like a car park. Through the visor cold it's just black on black. With infrared its all heat blur, eddying patterns of orange through yellow, metal versus stone, in contrast to himself, if he looks down at his body.

  For a moment he considers using his whites, but no, that would be stupid, would give away his position in case the blip isn't actually dead. Better to be careful.

  He listens to the rough breathing of Ren running down to his entry point, talking to Tekalus holding position and waiting for the motexes to arrive. Excitement grips him. This is going to be his kill. The stone floor clunks under his booted feet.

  Ren- Listen to me, Loz, this is how it goes. You can feel yourself getting warmer. You're starting to feel dizzy. You're sweating. The suit feels too hot, you want to take it off.

  Buzzing voices in his head.

  Ren- Have you even checked your helio? It's way above body temp in there buddy. You really need to leave, now. Tek, the motexes there yet?

  Tekalus- On their way. Lorie, look, I'm sorry to tease you, it was just a joke. We'll get you a skull some other time.

  Ren- I'll give you a skull, Lorie, you've proven you're worth it. Just come out.

  He doesn't want charity. They'd always thought he was less, and now he'd show he was more even than them. He wasn't afraid of the heat, or the blip. He was a hunter, and he would get his own skull.

  He crosses the open space feeling a little dizzy, nearly stumbles a few times. Finds himself with slow fingers ready to flick the switch for his whites, as he stumbles, and his arms feel heavy. It's OK. He's just tired he thinks. The suit will fix it.

  Ren- He's slowing down.

  Tekalus- Just get him out.

  Ren- Right, alright. L
oz, listen, you're nearly there now. Just go, get the blips head, and get out. It's only yards, you should be able to see him. Hurry up. We're waiting for you.

  Insects in his ears, buzzing. The green beacon glows before his eyes. Meters now. He flicks to infra red, but its just a hot wash. Blacks, nothing. Finally he flicks on his whites, and sees.

  Blank grey concrete, layering into black at the hazy circumference of his white sphere of light, and before him lies a rectangular chunk of something green, where the blip should be. He steps closer.

  Ren- Just get the head and come on out, Loz. I'll stand you a drink for this.

  Green/grey fabric, he sees buckles and pockets sewn into the sides. He sees straps, and realizes, a rucksack.

  Tekalus- So what happened to him? Is he fat? Heart attack? Talk to us Loz.

  But.

  Lorie- He's not here.

  He pushes at the bag, heavy.

  Ren- What? Repeat that. Sounded like you said he's not there?

  Tekalus- Not possible, he is there, I'm tracing the bromide in his bloodstream still. Shit, you see the blip don't you Lorie? You're right on top of him.

  Pokes at the straps, lifts the bag so the opening end faces him. Starts to work on the drawstring fasteners, difficult with the exo-gauntlets on.

  Ren- What's going on, Loz? You have to talk to us, where is the blip?

  Tekalus- Shit, Ren, switch to suit comps. He's got his whites on!

  Ren- What? Dammit!

  Tekalus- Loz, turn your whites off! Listen to me. I'm your friend, turn your whites off!

  Pulls his gloves off, feels the instant burn on his skin. A reservoir of sweat spills out. Kneels by the bag, tube forgotten and round his back, opens the drawstrings, peers inside.

  Ren- "It's been too long Loz, just get out.

  Tekalus- What's there, what are you seeing?

  Inside the bag, a metal box, silvered. He touches it, scalding to the touch, his head light and barely feels the pain as his skin blackens on the metal. A lid, he grips the edge, tugs on it. It's been hammered shut, and he heaves against it. It pops open, the contents splash out.