Dying World

by Chris Fox

  Arcan’s Bonds was located where it was for a reason. The big purple magi-scrawl on the side of the wall was the first thing desperate people saw when crawling out of the gutter. Get money NOW! It was effective. Depths, that sign was how I’d originally met Arcan.

  I hustled inside the building, and was unsurprised to find several people in line ahead of me. At least the place was chilled, an inexpensive water magic, but one that many shop owners skimped on in the stacks. Here though? Couldn’t make the nice people hot, now could we? I wish I could afford to live here.

  A tall, aging merc stood behind the counter, his bald pate reflecting the thin lights above. His scarlet cyber-eyes were as inhuman as ever, and they whirred as he focused on me.

  “Jerek,” Arcan’s no-nonsense voice boomed from behind a wide counter. He rested two thick arms on the worn plastic, and stared hard at me. “I haven’t heard from anyone on the Remora, but the number one pick for first casualty comes walking in. Give it to me straight, kid. What happened? Tell me you’ve got my money.”

  “Total wipe,” I led with, which was how one talked to mercs. They’re all battle stats and mission reports. “Lurkers. They took the ship, and I managed to sneak aboard the landing strut before they took off.”

  Arcan gave a derisive snort. “So you stowed back to Kemet on your own ship, with your tail between your legs?”

  “As opposed to what?” I snapped, the weight of recent events finally cracking my composure. The same way our world was going to crack. “They’d already taken out our muscle and command. What do you think I could have done, Arcan? Please, enlighten me. Tell me how you would have played it.”

  Arcan eyed me curiously for a long time, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, or both. His next words made it clear.

  “I wouldn’t have landed my sorry ass in the situation to begin with.” Arcan’s eyes narrowed, and he tugged on the end of his beard as if deciding whether or not I got to live. “I told you that trip was trouble. I told you there wasn’t anything out there.”

  “But there was,” I countered, unholstering the pistol I’d taken from the weapon’s locker and placing it on the counter. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with the sleek black weapon, but it had to be worth something. “I came back with a sidearm and a set of armor that predates planetfall by a lot. Listen. Take the pistol as collateral, and give me one day to bring the armor to the academy and get it appraised. I’m telling you…it’s priceless. The armory will want this.”

  “Priceless doesn’t pay my rent on this hole.” Arcan folded those tree trunk arms, and his scowl deepened. “Your bond goes up 20% a day, and if you skip out on me I will hunt you down personally. I won’t hire a merc. I’ll do it myself, kid. I ran with your father for nearly three decades. We came up in the arena together. If he could see you wheeling right now it would break his heart. Assuming you ain’t already broken it beyond repair. Shame. He deserved better.”

  That stung, especially given how long I’d known Arcan. Normally I’d have gotten even angrier, and maybe said some regretful things. It’s funny how the impending dissolution of your planet can change your whole perspective.

  “You’re right,” I agreed. Then I folded my arms to match him. One of my instructors at the academy had said that mirroring body language made people nicer or something. “Here’s the thing, Arcan. I need the armor. For at least a few days. I can’t part with it. Let me be very clear about that. I’m walking out wearing this armor.”

  Arcan’s eyes narrowed to slits and his voice went deathly quiet, barely audible over the hiss of cool air drifting down from the vent above. “You don’t get to dictate terms here, kid.”

  “Yeah, I do.” I wrestled hard with the anger. I knew my rights, and both the sidearm and the armor were mine. “You can’t take them, and you know it.”

  “Are you really going to make me report you and send a tracer?” Arcan shook his head sadly. “I thought you were better than that, kid. You’ve never had a problem admitting when you were wrong before. Give me the armor. If it really is what you say it is then I’ll see that you get 5% of the profit.”

  In my heart of hearts I wished I could disintegrate him where he stood, or do something equally impressive. What Arcan was doing? Tantamount to robbery in my book, and done often. In fact as I looked up and down the counter I saw three other people getting shaken down just like I was.

  “No.” I met Arcan’s gaze without flinching. “Let me tell you how this is going to go. I get you, Arcan. I understand how my dad and his merc buddies think. You want credits. Always more credits. That’s the bottom line. If you’re not going to give me an extension, then I’ll pay. But not with the armor.”

  I did something that might qualify as insane. It certainly qualified as risky, and maybe stupid. I withdrew Ariela from my holster and set her gently on the counter, then I gently spun her, and pushed her grip-first toward Arcan.

  “You give me five thousand credits, and she’s yours.” I paused to let him survey the weapon, something he must remember from his time merc-ing with my father. “Keep three for the bond, then pay me out the rest.”

  “Kid, you get that this isn’t collateral, right?” Arcan’s eyes were wide now. Thick with disbelief. “If you do this, and your old man hears, I’m going to tell him I tried to talk you out of hawking your inheritance.”

  “That’s the truth, and I’ll back you up,” I agreed, pushing the pistol a bit closer to him. “Five thousand credits is a joke for a fully realized eldimagus, and we both know it. Take the win, Arcan.”

  “Why are you doing this, kid?” Arcan’s gaze had gone suspicious now, and he leaned closer to study me. “Do you really hate your dad this much? Is this a way to get back at him? Why do you need the money so bad? It can’t be about the armor. I know you’re into all that history stuff, but you’ve never much cared about weapons. Not like the rest of us.”

  I took a long, slow breath before answering. I needed him to go along with this, without immediately calling my father the instant I left the shop.

  “Listen, Arcan. I get that you don’t like me.”

  He gave a snort of agreement.

  “This armor is important,” I continued, trying to reach whatever part of him was still human. “Not just to me, or even to the academy. I have to get it to the right people, and I have to do it soon.”

  I considered telling him more, but I had no proof, and didn’t really even have all the facts.

  “Fine. Your loss.” He scooped Ariela up lovingly in both hands, then ducked through the curtain separating the back room. Part of me wanted to follow, but I knew there was no way he’d double-cross me. Pawn brokers who did that sort of thing didn’t live long.

  I picked up the plain spellpistol I’d left on the counter, and slid it into Ariela’s holster. The weight was off, and the fact that it couldn’t fire slugs really bothered me. Ariela had saved my life more than once. What if I ran into a situation where I was out of spells?

  Ah, well. I had to work with what I had, and firmly believed the armor really was that important. I needed to figure out how it worked, and how it knew what was going to happen to our world.

  That made my next call even more uncomfortable than visiting Arcan.

  9

  A strange sense of resolve bolstered me as I left Arcan’s pawn shop. I had two thousand and thirty-four credits on my chip, and my bond was paid off. That meant that for good or ill my destiny was now my own.

  Until my father found out I’d sold Ariela, and my life was abruptly terminated. I figured that would happen sometime in the next few hours, when Arcan called him. That gave me the balance of the morning and maybe the afternoon to figure out what was going on with the hypothetical destruction of our planet.

  I stood there on the corner of the busy boulevard, under the watchful eyes of circling sweeper drones, and tried to figure out what the smartest play was. I could try taking the armor to the academy. I’d been a pretty good student, and still kn
ew some of the faculty. The armory staff would wet themselves to be the first to break the discovery of something this old.

  Some might have contacts with the ministry, which was where I’d need to ultimately end up. That would take time, though, and there was no guarantee of success.

  There was a much, much faster way to get my case in front of the minister, but I was reluctant to use it, even with the fate of the world in the balance.

  It meant calling my mother.

  Now, I know what you’re thinking. How bad can that be? Was she mean? No. My mother was nothing if not polite. Would she overly mother me? Nope. She expected me to make my own way in the world, and treated me like an equal most of the time.

  So why was I so reluctant to call her? Because my mother was sleeping with the minister. Two years ago my mother, the then headmistress of the academy you hear me going on about, left my father…for our minister, the woman who runs our entire government.

  My mom has always been type A, a real ambitious go-getter, and apparently back in the day so was my dad. They were the real power couple. After he retired from the arena, though, he lost his edge. Mom didn’t. Her career went orbital, and she ended up running the entire academy while my father lived on subsistence.

  That made him, and by extension me, my mom’s embarrassing other life. The tether that she didn’t want to be reminded of. I knew she loved me, but I also knew that she was embarrassed of her humble beginnings, and that a part of her would always resent me for it.

  Whenever I called her, which I tried to avoid, it was almost always because I needed something. I carefully withdrew my comm, and looked around to make sure no one was watching me. Other than a sweeper drone no one paid me the slightest attention.

  My comm vibrated as the connection resolved, then a hologram of my mother’s face sprang into existence over the device. The lines around her eyes had spread a little further, and I didn’t recall ever having seen her look that tired.

  “Hey, sweetie.” She offered an exhausted smile. “Now is a really, really bad time. How much do you need? I don’t need details, just a reason.”

  “Mom, I stumbled on something bad. Something you need to know about.” There was so much I wanted to say to her as I stared down at the holo, wishing she were there in person. My mother was the smartest person I knew, and if anyone could solve this it was her. “The comet destabilized our orbit. The quakes are going to get worse, and our planet is coming apart. I don’t know how long it will take. Days maybe? I figured if anyone knew about it, that it would be you guys and—”

  “How did you know?” My mother’s expression tightened, and her voice was flat. She glanced behind her, then back at the holo. “This is important, Jerek. How did you come upon this information? Who told you?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t know why, but something made me reluctant to tell her about the armor.

  “Mom, why does that matter?” I evaded, playing for time. “Obviously from your reaction it’s true. What the depths is going on? What is the ministry doing about it?”

  “Stop.” The word carried all the force of my mother’s sternest voice, the one that had halted me in my tracks as a toddler. “Jerek, if they find out you know, if you try to go public, then they will take steps to silence you. They’re trying to avoid a panic. Now tell me…how did you know?”

  “I found something,” I blurted. If I couldn’t trust my mom, then who could I trust? “It’s old. Lost tech, from early in the dragonflight’s history, before the Vagrant Fleet splintered. That tech claims the comet was deliberately sent our way. Someone used void magic to fling a small moon at us.”

  My mom’s sapphire eyes widened, and her mouth worked like a fish. I’d never seen her speechless. Not once. I didn’t even think it was possible, but there it was.

  “I’ll get this information to the minister immediately, but she’s going to want to talk to you in person.” She leaned closer, her face growing a bit larger. “Jerek, you need to be careful. Grab a train and get here as soon as possible. Have you told anyone else about this?”

  “Of course not.” I left out Briff, as I saw no sense in involving the hatchling. The drone whirred by overhead again, and I tried not to ascribe anything sinister to its motives. “Mom, if the world is coming apart we need a ship. We need to get off.”

  Mom’s mask, that careful professional facade she had so perfected, shattered. Her eyes were wet, and she wore her compassion openly. “If you get here I can get you a seat, honey. But you need to get here quick.”

  I went cold. “What about Dad?”

  “There’s nothing I can do for him.” She shook her head sadly. “You have no idea how precious every seat is. They’re talking about abandoning the armory because there simply aren’t enough ships. We’re saving the best and brightest. I will always treasure my time with your father, and we made something wonderful together, but he is neither of those things, Jer.”

  Conflicting emotions raged, all bad. I loved the academy, and the armory represented our people’s history, and legacy, and wealth. Our pride. Losing it would break us as a people, and I hadn’t even considered that it would happen when the world came apart. But that still wasn’t the most important thing.

  “I’m not leaving dad behind.” I shook my head, and started moving up the street toward the closest tram terminal. They were everywhere here, and absolutely pristine to boot. Not at all like my neighborhood.

  “You were always like this. Even as a child. I know you aren’t going to relent. Hold on. I’m conferencing in your father.” Her face moved to the side, her attention obviously on her own comm.

  A moment later the hologram rippled, then split into two. The first was my mother, the second my father, seated on his hoverchair back in the flop.

  “Do I even want to know?” He scrubbed his fingers through mussed hair. “What has he done this time, Irala?”

  “Hello, Dag.” There was affection in her voice, more than I’d expected. “It’s not what he’s done. It’s what he won’t do. Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that our world were about to end. Let’s say that I ordered your son to come to me, because I could save him. He’s refusing, because he wants to save you too. Something that is not within my power to do. Please tell your son not to be a sentimental fool.”

  My father stared adoringly at my mother, and it broke my heart. All the love was still there, though it lay beneath an oily residue of anger and resentment.

  “Jerek,” my father said, as if my mother hadn’t spoken. “Why did you pawn Ariela?” His voice had gone deadly calm, which was never a good sign.

  Suddenly I was glad it was a holo, instead of in person.

  “It was that or give up the armor. Dad, Mom is right. Something bad is going down, and our world is coming apart. This armor might help me save people. I can’t explain it any better than that. I’m sorry.”

  He kept a tight rein on his anger as he turned back to my mom’s holo, who’d remained silent during our exchange. “Our world is seriously ending? These quakes are that bad?”

  “I’m afraid so. But you can’t tell anyone, Dag. I mean that.”

  “You’ve got my bond,” he offered, almost without thinking. To my father that was unbreakable, and my mother knew that better than anyone. “And you’re telling me that Jerek won’t take a free ticket off this rock?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly, her gaze locked onto him. “I’m sorry, Dag. I really am. I’d save you if I could, you know that.”

  “I know. You’re not the minister, sweetie. You’re just sleeping with her.” My father delivered a rakish grin, and for just an instant was the godly gladiator I’d known in my childhood. He turned to me, and was suddenly crusty old dad again. “Jer, don’t be an idiot. If you’ve got a ticket off this rock, then you take it. You let me stay behind and die heroically, so your mom can feel guilty about it.”

  My mom actually laughed at that, laughed like she’d used to. I found the whole exchange mortifying, but for the
m it seemed cathartic.

  “Fine,” I agreed, hating myself. My feet had already carried me to the tram terminal, though I hadn’t selected a destination yet. “I will go to Mom. But only to show her and the minister this armor. I am not giving up.”

  “Of course not, sweetie,” my mom said in a way that made it very clear I was absolutely giving up. She turned to my dad. “Die well, Dag.”

  He nodded at her, and left the holo. My mom disappeared a moment later.

  I was left standing there, with not a lot of choices. I needed to get to my mom, on the northern continent. That meant a long tram ride, and plenty of time to think about how to handle things when I arrived.

  A sort of numbness stole over me as I waved my hand over the scanner and tapped Thebes, the capital, as a destination. I filed past the security turrets and into the tram car, which was mercifully empty. I took a seat in one of the molded plastic seats, and then willed the helmet to slither into place.

  It obliged, and the HUD lit as the tram lurched into motion. I was whisked along the track, the train gathering speed as we reached a main rail. I’d have about four hours to collect myself before I arrived, but I wasn’t sure how to make best use of that time.

  I could watch local news reports, but those would be heavily sanitized. I could try to learn more about the armor.

  Or I could sleep.

  Guess which one won out?

  I woke about three hours later, per the tram’s chronometer. I blinked blearily around trying to figure out what had woken me. A subsonic sound that I could feel as much as hear thrummed through me to the point of being physically painful.

  A glance through the tram’s windows at the mountains in the distance revealed the cause.

  Something like rain, but in reverse. A cloud of tiny objects rose from the mountains, whipped up into a funnel that spun into the sky with incredible speed. The smattering became a torrent, and my jaw fell open as the mountain dissolved before my eyes, and was sucked up the funnel and into orbit.