by P. R. Adams
“You are not ready.”
She descended, listening for the sergeant’s boots scraping across the rock. He would take offense, obviously. His ego outweighed his intellect. His petty display was already undermining what little confidence the others had in him.
But he did not understand that. He had many lessons to learn still.
As she descended, she maintained a steady pace, listened through the slosh of her wet boots, waiting for him to close on her. His approach would be to show her through physical force that he was truly in charge.
Halfway down the ramp, he grabbed her arm. “Listen! I’m not screwing around—”
She jerked her arm forward, away from him. It would be enough for him to instinctively reach for her again, taking him off-balance and leaving him exposed. The slight jerk of her shoulder became a hard pivot on the heel of a foot, and the momentum fed a fluid spin that brought her elbow into his back.
He should have known better. Instead, he came off his feet and planted face first against the ramp. And immediately, he scrambled to get back up.
Before he could, she pushed him back down with a boot to the small of his back.
Then she had her sword out and pressed the tip against his neck. “Listen to me. You are not ready.”
He went still, hands slowly rising in submission. “You’re going against the contract.”
Lonar and Quil stood at the top of the ramp, watching. After a moment, they were joined by Symbra. The young woman frowned, then glanced at the two men beside her.
Javika sheathed her sword. “It will not take me long to find Riyun’s body.”
The pseudo descended. “It will go even faster with two of us searching.”
The big tweak smiled. “Even faster with three.”
Symbra followed them down, stopping to help Hirvok up. “I—I think we should all help. A few minutes—an hour—it won’t matter in the end.”
Hirvok ran the back of a gloved hand over his face and checked for blood. “It’s my job to get you all back home alive now.” His voice shook. “That’s what Riyun would’ve wanted.”
A crackling hiss roared from the top of the ramp, followed by a sapphire flash of light. The air shimmered, and the drone that had been transformed drifted forward. “Bickering serves no purpose.”
Javika turned her back on the prophet. “Everything is pointless, so we choose what matters.”
“Nothing matters. All is flux and uncertainty. Chaos—the unknown—spews from the depths of the abyss.”
Tarlayn shuffled up to the edge. “What is it, Alush? What have you seen?”
“Meriscoya has returned to the abyssal depths. He has accessed the energies within and manipulated them in a way…”
“Yes? Manipulated them…?”
“His power continues to grow. The change is greater and greater. He becomes something…more. This is like nothing before. It cannot be. All that was planned and known is now lost.”
The sergeant spat. “So, he’s even more powerful? Great.”
Tarlayn straightened slightly. “He was always a truly gifted wizard. The tendency is for the growth of power to happen in great jumps rather than in a sequential progression.”
Once again, the prophet’s sapphire energy flared. “This is like nothing ever before seen. It is more than wizardry.”
The old woman closed her eyes. “If that’s true, it won’t be long before he’ll be too powerful to deal with.”
The prophet glowed brilliantly, then its energy disappeared. “This has already happened. He cannot be stopped.”
38
The entry to the mine was so low that Lonar had to hunch down to peer inside. His flashlight beam revealed walls that hadn’t been touched by the fire that had blackened everything else. Javika found hope in that for some reason. Rather than a narrow tunnel, the opening was like a cave—about forty feet wide and much deeper. Thick, iron-banded wooden beams braced the walls and ceiling maybe every twenty feet. Ash blackened the ground, but only for a short distance.
And it was in that ash that she found evidence of Riyun’s impact.
She knelt beside a long scrape that revealed the gray stone beneath the fine black coating. “He struck here.”
Lonar’s light joined hers, revealing even more of the area. “Looks like he kept skidding. See the way the ash is disturbed?” His voice carried deep into the mine.
“Yes. And the smell—quite a bit was disturbed and has yet to resettle.”
“But no blood.” The big man twisted around to shine his light on Hirvok. “You said he was torn apart.”
Hirvok shrugged. “Maybe not torn apart, but it looked bad. He was totally limp. In the middle of battle, your mind fills in details.”
“Sure. But there’s no blood.”
“Maybe his armor held him together. You ever think of that, knucklehead?”
The big man growled and turned more fully toward the sergeant. “You ever think maybe you should watch your mouth?”
Javika rapped her ash-darkened knuckles against the tweak’s thigh plate. “Shine your light in deeper.”
Seconds stretched, then Lonar did as she asked. Ash and dust were a thick, gray haze in the cool air. As he had said, there were more scrapes in the fine black layer, but there were other indicators of disturbance beyond the point where ash barely covered the stone.
Dark spots. Blood. Prints. Strange prints. They could be old. Or not.
She got to her feet. Behind her, the others huddled around the wizard and the prophet-drone, waiting. Naru coughed, and that threatened to become a wet string that could devolve into gagging. Someone patted her back and whispered reassurances. It sounded like Symbra.
If they were going to hunt for Riyun’s body, they needed to proceed quickly, before Hirvok said something that would further damage his standing. Lonar and Quil were strongly supportive of the search. If Javika needed to break the team into smaller units, they would be the ones to lead the other groups. For now, she needed them with her. A show of support.
“Quil.” Javika waved him forward. “Your light on the right. Lonar, your light on the left.”
That was enough to get the message across to the others: The search was on.
Disturbing the ash wasn’t a concern now. Riyun’s impact had done enough on its own that they weren’t going to make it any worse. Still, she wanted to move quickly and to be thorough, so she made a beeline for the blood splotches. When her light revealed them in full, the heavy weapons expert grunted. Before he could ask, she checked to see if the blood was fresh.
It was dark enough to be dry, but came away wet on her gloved fingertip. And there were more splotches ahead.
Lonar elbowed her. “If his armor was intact, how would the blood get out?” He did his best to whisper, she was sure.
“The helmet could have come off.” If it had been on. She couldn’t remember.
He shone his light around the area of the first splotch. “I don’t see it.”
Javika clenched her jaw. “And you do not see his body.”
“Yeah, but the floor levels off here. He should’ve come to a stop. Unless…something dragged him deeper.”
The prints…
Beyond the wide opening area, the mine split into two shafts—one continuing straight ahead, the other off to the right. Both were narrow, no more than eight feet across. A dragon taking the body deeper seemed unlikely. The ones they had seen that could fit into the narrower shafts would have struggled pulling Riyun.
A sigh slipped from the big man. “He was going to play a game of Crown with me tonight.”
“Quil can do it.”
“It’s not the same. He makes me feel stupid. Riyun—”
She pointed Lonar at the right-hand shaft. “Take Symbra and Naru. Search for more blood. No deeper than one hundred feet. I will take Quil.”
The big man’s eyes tracked back to Hirvok. “What about him?”
“We need someone to hold this position. Perhaps
we missed something out there.”
“Don’t want to leave our backs exposed, huh?” Lonar winked.
He understood. Hirvok would be more trouble than he was worth, so it would be wise to leave him behind. And the sergeant didn’t protest when she signaled for him to stay. He was seething, and there was no doubt he was going to make things miserable later. She had broken the contract, exactly as he had said. There would be repercussions.
But they had to return to their own world for that to matter.
At the entry to the shaft, Javika listened. No sounds came from within.
Quil leaned into the opening. “You believe he is down one of these?”
Javika couldn’t share what she really thought. They knew too little about this world to guess at all the potential threats an old, abandoned mine presented. Still, she had heard stories from people she had served with years before. Abandoned mines were apparently a strong part of many legends, and they were always home to things that crept up from below, things that escaped the Hollow Hills. Her own people had shared stories about cave dwellers. Things from other worlds, things that feasted on human flesh and sometimes wore it to fool other potential victims.
She refused to shiver, but the idea of recovering Riyun’s body seemed more pointless with each minute. “Would you seek out his body if you knew that he could not be found?”
The pseudo squinted. “How is it possible that a body could not be found?”
“A body does not roll forever. The floor here is flat. He should have been inside of the entry.”
“It is possible that he is still alive. The fall was not so great a height—”
“The fall would not have killed him, but the impact of that giant dragon almost certainly could have.”
Quil pinched his bottom lip. “Perhaps Hirvok saw what he wished to see.”
“He has no reason to lie about this.”
“It is not a lie if he believes it.”
“Riyun fell. He struck the ground near the entry.”
“That could kill him.”
“Then his body must be in here somewhere, and we will find it.”
“We should proceed.” Quil pressed into the narrow tunnel, showing no hint of the worries racking her now. The way he held his weapon, it was obvious he didn’t expect trouble.
Javika stayed close behind and listened for any other movement. “Your enthusiasm for searching for his body is appreciated.”
“The lieutenant treated me better during the time that I knew him than anyone in my entire life.”
“That was his way. Everyone was equal in his eyes.”
“Yes.” The pseudo stopped. “But treating me in this way…he risked arrest and ruin. It cost him his position with the Gryphon Brigade.”
“He was never one to concern himself over such matters.”
“But he lost his platoon. He was close to losing his rank. Another year running only a squad, and he would have been demoted.”
“We were never a squad or platoon to him; we were family.”
“Is that why you found him interesting?”
“Interesting?”
Quil tilted his head. “Were you not more than friends?”
The forwardness of the question surprised her. That was how a pseudo thought, she realized. They had no childhood for socialization. They were purpose-built as killers, protectors, or companions. And victims.
And yet the question was both sincere and troubling. It implied that others might have the same opinion.
“Our friendship ran deep.” She considered adding more but couldn’t.
“Then you were only friends?”
“Only friends. You understand that friends would kill or die for each other?”
It took a moment, but Quil nodded. “It is good to have friends.”
Something scraped in the darkness beyond the reach of their flashlights.
The pseudo heard it, too. His finger drifted down to the trigger guard of his weapon. “You heard that?”
“Yes.” She set her assault carbine into its brace on her back and drew her sword. “You do not know the legends and tales of creatures that live underground.”
“The sturdy folk? Or do you mean the walking ghosts?”
So he had heard of them. “You were not concerned, but you know the stories?”
He squeezed past her so she was at the front. “I have begun to question my understanding of how they designed this world.”
“It sounds as if they drew from many legends. Go now, and see if you can reach Lonar.” With her free hand, she pulled her helmet from her belt. The interior was still damp despite shaking and drying the armor out. When the optics came to life, she turned her flashlight off.
Quil retreated, and she edged forward, audio intake at full sensitivity. The scraping she had heard earlier was now a whispery shuffle of many feet. Strange chittering and stranger clacking drew closer. Small pockets of heat glowed waist-high on the walls and on the ground. Had she listened to her nagging superstition, she would have seen the indicators earlier. There were people in the mine. The question was whether they were human or something from nightmare.
The answer came quickly, when the sound of shuffling feet was matched with a form. It was humanoid if slightly stunted, but the arms were abnormally long. And those arms ended in something that was a cross between hands and crab-like pincers. Stubby fingers wrapped around the ends of bony hooks.
It was how they opened doors in the late of night to steal a poorly behaving child. And the pincers were how the baby was divided among the rest of the tribe as a celebratory meal.
In some stories, the walking ghosts served a good purpose. In others, they were merely vicious.
Always, they lived in tribes underground and survived on the flesh of unfortunate humans.
Javika couldn’t stomach the idea of Riyun being some monstrous creatures’ dinner, so she waited until the first one was almost upon her—chittering and clacking and slobbering—then lunged.
The thing squealed, a sound like a crab being boiled. But there was no shell to slow her blade, and the monster’s guts spilled out easily enough.
When it collapsed, the next one awkwardly stumbled over the first, claws snapping at her helmet.
Nightmare. Wicked and murderous.
She backed up, but the thing came at her again. It was slow and clumsy, leaving itself open for a slash that raced past the snapping pincers. One arm fell away, and the thing recoiled in surprise. It still seemed surprised when she slashed its inhuman head free of its body.
More came at her, but they were like the first two: clumsy and slow. Their pincers snapped, and the stubby fingers reached for her.
None of them was a threat, and by the time Quil had returned with Lonar, the battle was over.
“Oh!” The big man gagged. “That’s a horrible smell.”
Javika flicked gore from her blade, then poured water along the length of it. She pulled a towel out and wiped the metal dry, then sheathed the weapon. Once that was done, she pulled her helmet off and secured it to her belt.
Lonar was right: The air reeked of fish guts and human waste.
But there were no strong heat signals beyond the ruin of bodies. “Stay alert—there could be more.”
She took her time, carefully picking where she would step among the soft, white forms and ruptured guts. It was slippery, and when her boots came down in a bad place and the fragile viscera popped, she had to hold her breath.
To their credit, Lonar and Quil stayed with her. The big man was surprisingly disturbed by the scene. He gagged a few times, until they were past the devastation.
“Javika?” The tweak leaned against a wall and doubled over. “Oh. I—” A wet splash echoed. “Shit.”
She waited until the moment was past. “You are done now?”
“Well—” He spat. “At least I’m empty.”
“You have seen worse on battlefields.”
“Definitely. It’s just the fish
smell. When I was on Magilar, they used to ship down these vats of…guts. Well, they weren’t guts when they shipped them down. They were these crab-like things. Stuff that was supposed to be able to handle the atmospheric pressure. But the second you opened those vats—” The big man made a popping sound. “So much for a nice meal. And then a couple times, people lost pressure in their suits and…” He groaned.
Quil glanced back to where the creatures lay. “You could clean them. Perhaps boiling…”
“Those things? Eat them? Nah. I saw arms and legs.”
“How did you survive on Magilar? That is an extraordinarily deadly world.”
“Used to be worse. Spent five years setting up systems to modify the atmosphere. Pump enough gas in to draw the carbon out, suck the carbon back out into space. Just as things were getting to be survivable, they automated everything.”
“You lived in pressured armor suits?”
“Worked in. We had a habitat underground. We.” Lonar snorted. “After six months, I was the only one still down there. Most everyone else died from accidents or suicide.”
“Bio-forming. Modifying planets for human life. Magilar will be another century before anything can walk around outside pressurized armor.”
“I’ll never go back. I’d rather do this.” The big man hefted his autocannon.
Javika had only heard about the tweak’s numerous modifications—gene tweaking, wetware, bone reinforcement. Working in deadly environments was usually reserved for dangerous criminals. She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Riyun said you grew up on an orbital station.”
“I did.”
“Most of those are lower gravity.”
“It was. If you’re wondering how I ended up on Magilar, it wasn’t because I committed a crime.”
“Then why?”
“Because as far as the government was concerned, I was dead. My parents gave me up a few weeks after I was born. Congenital heart and spinal conditions. I wasn’t going to make it past my first month.”
Her breath caught. Given up by parents for dead… “You were Harvested?”
“I don’t like to advertise that. I mean, Riyun knew. There were thousands of us. Once I was old enough to understand numbers, at least. After all the surgeries and modifications…well, there were hundreds.”
