A Bad Deal for the Whole Galaxy

by Alex White

  “You want me to hang on with my bare hands? You know I’m forty-three, right?”

  A score of shadowy vipers, pouring toward her with fangs outstretched, cut short the discussion. High alert was rolling through Mercandatta like an earthquake, and the first place they’d send security forces was the epicenter. Charger knelt down so she’d have an easier time and chimed.

  She mounted him as best she could. This wouldn’t work. It’d buck her off in seconds if it mustered even half the speed she’d seen from it.

  She was about to tell Charger so when it leapt thirty meters through the air, jammed its toe-claws into the facade of one of the buildings, and bounded off onto the opposing roof. She tried to shout for it to stop, but all that came out was an unformed scream and a vibrant stream of swears. It launched again and again. The shadows surged toward her, grasping for her feet, to no avail.

  This was nothing like the rocket rung in the Capricious’s cargo bay; this was raw power, like trying to keep her mitts screwed to the hull of a launching starship. If she hadn’t had a metal hand with the grip strength of a gorilla, she would’ve been ripped free in midair. Boots gave up on the foot mounts and wrapped her legs around him, getting more acquainted with the bot than half of her former boyfriends.

  When at long last, she was certain of her fate as a splatter across Mercandatta’s steely landscape, Charger slammed down at the docks.

  She threw up all over its neck and slid off, a gasping wreck.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, wiping away her drool and clutching her forehead. If she lived through this, she’d have one hell of a migraine.

  To her surprise, the other starship captains had deployed tons of their own security. Turned out that a banking station fueled by off-the-books transactions had a lot of criminals on board, and all of them were eager to defend their ships. Charger scarcely looked out of place, considering the other military hardware on hand.

  Boots spun to find the Capricious in its mooring, engines thrumming and ready to go, its bay wide open. Alongside Charger, she rushed up the cargo ramp, fearful of what she might find. What if the Children or someone else had come and taken out her crew while she’d been cracking the vault with Orna?

  Instead, she found Armin just inside the door with slinger at the ready.

  He looked at her aghast and shouted, “What did you do?”

  Boots pinched the sick and blood from her nose and coughed. “Doesn’t matter. Tell you in the air.”

  Armin punched the close button with a sour look and called out over the comms. “All aboard, Captain. Good to go.”

  Cordell’s voice flooded the bay in return. “Copy that. Get strapped in and let’s boogie.”

  Snow filtered in through the vents, piling into corners of the Pinnacle’s central courtyard. The room would’ve been a freezer, save for the lit fires belching heat along every wall.

  Nilah wanted them to stop the fight. She wanted so badly to intervene on behalf of her friend, but that might blow her cover and kill all three of them.

  “Come on, then!” the big fellow shouted at Alister. “Come hit me!”

  Alister panted on the cobblestones of the outdoor arena, wiping the blood from his lips. His opponent was an ogre of a woman, towering close to two meters tall. With Jeannie at his side, Alister was a ruthless fighter. Alone, he was mincemeat.

  He spat out a mouthful of blood and mumbled, “I’ll do worse than hit you, you overgrown …”

  He rose to his feet and popped his neck, striking a pose awfully similar to Nilah’s fighting stance. But Nilah could easily suss out the cracks in his posture, his poor attentiveness, his distracted glances at his sister.

  Alister Ferrier was no fighter.

  The big woman came charging at him, pulling together a vibrating glyph of sunlight. She landed a punch, and Alister went flying backward into a snow drift, coming to rest against the wall in a white puff. Alister had been lucky to strike the snowy ground; a little to the left, and he might’ve been shattered against the stones.

  The mission wasn’t going well.

  Alister and Jeannie had spent two days casually reading other cultists, sneaking spell castings and asking people why they were there with a handshake or pat on the back. All the while, Nilah had swallowed her nerves and been ready to support them any way she could.

  They didn’t get caught, but they didn’t find the double agent, either. And Alister was getting sloppy, trying to do more than one read at a time, or ask more than one question.

  Then, the elder had summoned them for combat training. The result was an unconscious mind reader with a probable concussion.

  “What the hell, Sharp?” bellowed the ogre. “I thought you had some new recruits!”

  “If you’d let us fight together,” shouted Jeannie from the sidelines, “you wouldn’t be so lucky!”

  Sharp crossed his arms and lit a cigarette. “That kind of defeats the purpose of one-on-one matches … Moira, was it? These trials are designed to prepare you to face Elder Osmond.” He pointed to the big lady. “And you’re not supposed to be killing each other, Georgina! It’s inefficient!”

  “We killed each other plenty getting up here,” said Nilah, trying to hide her worry for Alister.

  “Yes,” said Sharp, “and now that we’ve skimmed the cream off the top of the recruits, we’re not going to simply throw it away.”

  Georgina shrugged those mountainous shoulders of hers. “He yet lives, doesn’t he? Who’s next? I’m bored.”

  Sharp looked at Jeannie, but she’d already gone to Alister’s side to try and rouse him. Sharp sighed and glanced at Nilah, then pointed to Georgina. “Why don’t you give it a shot?”

  Nilah rested her hands on her hips. “Fighting all the time is well and good, but how does that make us the best Children we can be? Are we supposed to punch our way to the eternal truths of the galaxy?”

  “You’re here to be disassembled and rebuilt as an elite force. A Child of the Singularity is all things: a fighter, a diplomat, a saboteur, a spy. Forget your old life. Forget whatever you think you are.” Sharp sighed out a cloud of smoke. “To be one of us, you have to be better than the rest, and that starts with physical discipline. You’ll be bruised. You’ll be broken. We’re going to pull away your cocky veneer and teach you how to wield true power.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Nilah. “And when do I get to do the diplomacy and espionage stuff?”

  “The Pinnacle is the first rung on your climb. If you defeat the elder in combat, then you’ll join Lord Vraba for the rest of your training. Eventually, you’ll earn the power to take all that you desire.”

  “‘First rung’? Then the Pinnacle is kind of a misnomer, isn’t it?”

  Sharp flicked his cigarette at her. “You’re far too arrogant. We’ll help you with that.”

  Nilah cracked her knuckles. “It’s only arrogance if I can’t back it up, mate.”

  She walked toward the center of the ring, eyes fixed upon Georgina’s. Nilah’s abdomen ached at the very thought of the giant’s fight-ending punch, and she wondered if Georgina would try to make an example of her. The woman was a kineticist, able to impart tremendous energy into an object, or person—and she was a bloody quick caster. If Nilah wanted to win, she’d have to keep Georgina’s hands busy and get in close.

  When Nilah came within ten paces of Georgina, she broke into an all-out sprint. The giant guffawed and wound up for a huge backhand, sparks of arcane light reflecting off the snow behind her.

  It was an obvious feint—attack with a jab, deliver a spell with her cross. Nilah dropped into a slide, slamming her heel into the side of Georgina’s knee. The giant’s fighting instincts were excellent, and she twisted away, sparing herself from a crippling injury. Nilah lashed out at Georgina’s groin, but she danced backward from Nilah’s kick with surprising dexterity. Nilah scarcely rolled clear as the giant’s spell blasted the ground where her head would’ve been.

  A blistering explosion of snow erupted from
the impact point, swirling into Nilah’s eyes and blinding her. She scrambled upright, but Georgina’s knee sunk into her gut like a rolling boulder. She was lifted bodily off the ground with the force of the blow, only to come down on her feet with stolen breath. Then a hook rocked her cheek, dazzling her. Then another into her temple, and she found herself sitting down on the soft concrete, icy water melting onto her rump.

  “Stop!” called Sharp. “That’s enough! If you kill her, the elder is going to be furious!”

  Come on, then, love. Shake it off.

  “Why?” asked Georgina. “You’ve got three new ones. Surely you can spare an initiate.”

  Nilah fixated on one of the guttering torches in the wall sconces, snapping her eyes to it every time it drifted away. Each drift got shorter and shorter until her vision returned, along with a splitting headache.

  She’d been blinded. Georgina had taken advantage and struck her, unguarded. In many ways, the assault wasn’t that different from Flicker. Georgina interrupted her meditations by seizing her by the collar, and Nilah palmed a handful of snow.

  “Let’s see how valuable you are to them,” she growled into Nilah’s ear, her fist whining with a charge as she traced a glyph. At this range, she’d snap Nilah’s neck with a single punch.

  Unless Nilah tossed a snowball into her spell.

  The ball struck Georgina’s fist and exploded with a sound like a fuse blowing next to her head. Nilah closed her eyes against the shower of ice and leaned back, kicking out at the giant’s throat. She felt a solid connection, and Georgina stumbled back, choking out a set of nasty comments.

  Rising rocket. Nilah ascended, throwing a spray of snow forward in a milky cloud. She watched for Georgina’s predictable attack and ducked under it, smashing her throat once again with her elbow.

  Accretion’s pull. She reached down and grabbed two handfuls of snow, pinwheeling and hurling them in arcs before leaping up to come down on top of the giant’s head with an elbow.

  Disrupted orbit. She hooked her foot behind Georgina’s knee and shoulder checked her, loosening the ogre’s stance before rushing in to pummel chest, kidneys, and groin. This time, Nilah’s crushing blows struck home over and over again, and Georgina’s guard dropped to cover her torso.

  Cold star. A scoop of snow into the giant’s snout to turn up her chin, and Nilah struck the woman’s eyes with a claw hardened by years of fingertip push-ups. Nilah dug in deep, listening to the screams of her opponent.

  Singularity. Another wheel of powder blinded her target, not that she needed the help, and Nilah stepped in with an elbow straight for her nose. Nilah put every ounce of force she could muster into the blow, and Georgina’s scream was cut short by a hard snap—then she fell over, shaking.

  Nilah stepped backward and relaxed her stance, to find all eyes in the room wide and fixed upon her. She looked over Georgina once to make sure she wasn’t getting up; the giant moaned hoarsely, cupping her nethers and eyes. She wouldn’t be fighting any day soon without serious medical help.

  Just to put a fine point on it, Nilah turned to Sharp and said, “Don’t ever intervene on my behalf again, sport. I won my entry to the Pinnacle, and it’s far from the last stop on my journey.”

  Except they weren’t looking directly at her, but at something behind her. A set of thin claps echoed through the space from one set of small hands. Nilah turned around to see the old man from the gate, his black robes trailing in his wake.

  “Elder Osmond,” said Sharp. “Honored that you’d join us.”

  “Ha! How could I stay away with such a promising young woman in my temple?” cackled the elder. “Oh, I love it! I love it! How did you fell Georgina? She’s killed so many, you see, and she always claims it’s an accident.” He waggled his finger theatrically at the downed ogre. “But we know better, don’t we?”

  Georgina moaned a few curses, and the elder seated his fists on his hips. “Now, now. We’re the Children of the Singularity, not the Children of the Vulgarity. I shall have to punish that wicked, wicked mouth of yours. This brilliant fighter took you down fair and square, didn’t you, dear?”

  Nilah realized he was addressing her and stammered. “It … was nothing.”

  The old man crooked an eyebrow at Nilah. “That’s Flicker, isn’t it?”

  A bomb went off in Nilah’s stomach. “Ah, well, uh … It’s Taitutian Ghost Fist, and—”

  “Modesty is for the sheep, but they always get shorn anyway,” interrupted Osmond, sweeping across the arena to her. He had a way of moving that reminded Nilah of Mother. He held up her arm as though it were a piece of cooked meat and let it drop. “Why have you no dermaluxes?”

  “Because I’d rather use the environment to my advantage,” she said, eyeing Jeannie and Alister recovering in the corner. If Osmond tried anything, they wouldn’t be able to help. “It’s a more natural approach, Elder.”

  Osmond laughed, his voice smooth and jovial. “A natural approach? Oh, that’s richer than a fried marpo pie. A mechanist, vegetarian naturalist. You young Taitutians never remember the old days when we ate meat. You know this is a new thing, right? Only the last two hundred years or so.”

  Sharp perked up like a wolf about to be released from his cage, and Osmond waved him off.

  “Walk with me,” said Osmond, then pointed to Jeannie and Alister. “You two, as well, children, assuming that boy can walk.”

  “I’m good,” grunted Alister.

  Nilah did as the elder bade her, following him down one of the side passages. They came to a heavy bulkhead, then Osmond traced a glyph and placed his hand against the access plate. It registered his identity and the door yawned open.

  As they ascended a flight of stairs, the passages changed: from the bare stone and steel of the Pinnacle initiate quarters to wood and gilding, reminding Nilah of Claire’s old office, and of Alpha. Stuffed animal heads covered the walls, their faces forever frozen in surprise. Before uncovering the Harrow conspiracy, Nilah would’ve seen this place as luxurious, if a little overwrought. Now, she could only think of the corpses suspended in the ice beneath the Wartenberg Mining Colony.

  Then they emerged into a majestic rotunda, a place clearly designed for giving lectures. Statuary lined the edges, perched atop marble plinths. A series of columns punctuated the expanse at even intervals, and in the center, there was a raised dais, upon which a speaker might deliver an address. More of the taxidermied heads ringed the ceiling. An alcove on one side held a buffet, tables, and chairs, as well as a wine service.

  “So I hear you three have been asking questions of my friendly little initiates,” said Osmond. “A few of my people have told me that one”—he pointed to Alister—“is making them uncomfortable.”

  Nilah restrained a gulp. “Are we at the Pinnacle to be comfortable, elder?”

  Osmond filled a glass of wine from a nearby decanter, waving with his free hand as though swatting flies on a summer day. “No, my dear, I shouldn’t say so. Though, if we’re being honest, I’ve got a pretty cushy job.” He took a long slug of the wine, holding up a finger for them to wait. He gave a gratified sigh and wiped his lips on the back of his sleeve. “Honey, where else can you day drink and plot treason at the same time?”

  Nodding, Nilah said, “The Pinnacle truly is a marvel.”

  “So I’m going to ask you what you three have been asking everyone around,” said Osmond. “Why are you here?”

  Nilah touched her mouth with the pad of her thumb. Georgina had split it, so Nilah had red on her lips, too. “Because I want to take what’s mine. I want to be one of the elites. I was told that with your training, I can become one of the masters of our galaxy.”

  Osmond inspected the twins, though their new faces rendered them unique to his eyes. “And you two?”

  “The same,” said Jeannie.

  “Tired of taking orders,” added Alister.

  “Who’s giving you orders, kiddo?” asked Osmond, turning to walk onward without offering them anyt
hing to drink. “If you’re anything like the other little bastards around here, you grew up with a silver spoon stuck up your ass.”

  “Anyone, sir,” said Alister with a nervous glance at his sister. “I don’t want to take orders from anyone.”

  Osmond stopped. “Do you know what the word ‘sir’ is, young man? That’s you, taking orders. From me, from any of your elders, simply because we’re old. It’s an appeal to tradition, you see—we survived the longest, and so we’re deserving of your respect. I can’t eat spicy foods without wanting to crap myself. How do you respect me now?”

  “Perhaps I’m just paying lip service, Elder Osmond,” said Alister, hands balling at his sides.

  “Paying lip service is following orders, too,” said the old man, turning and walking onward. They ascended another flight of stairs and he gave Alister a disappointed look. “If you’re waiting to stab someone in the back, it’s because you don’t have the stones to stab them in the front. Subterfuge is a form of supplication, lying to compensate for a lack of dominance. You say you came here because you’re tired of taking orders, but I told you to walk up some stairs and you’re following like a hungry puppy.”

  “Downstairs,” said Alister, “they all were afraid of you. Showed you deference.”

  Osmond smiled, and there was something askew in his rictus, like his face didn’t fit correctly. “That’s because they know what I’ll do to them, should they draw the ire from my good-natured heart. They’re not lying to bide their time. They’re afraid. We’re honest here. We don’t hide behind pretense. We want something and we learn to take it, or we learn to keep our mouths shut. You want a life like that, or do you want to call me ‘sir’ one more time?”

  Alister looked to his sister, then to Nilah. “I want what’s mine, then.”

  Osmond raised his hands, and projections formed around them. He called forth a series of texts from his computer terminal, paging through them in the center of the chamber. “Then look at why we gather into herds in the first place. There was an ancient philosopher, Tariq the Younger, who said the herd was an effort to create humanity in inhumane conditions, to better the treatment of the sick, the elderly, and the people who lived on the fringes of society. He said that’s why we bloomed everywhere we set foot, how we could experience new ideas and spread across the stars.”