by S E Anderson
“As much as you talk of helping us”—he pointed a scrawny finger at us—“it doesn’t change the fact that you’re criminals. You blew up the library, for Pyro’s sake.”
“Oh, you heard about that?” asked Blayde. “I thought all that happened outside of time. No matter. We had our reasons for doing that.”
“Um … which were?” I whispered. “I was cool with overthrowing Nimien, but burning it was … weird.”
“We’re all going to die; we’re all going to die,” chanted the waiter.
Blayde turned to the senior. “Did you meet the head abbot? Turns out, he was a psychopath who built the library as a dumb trap to torture us and enslave a friend of ours and then take over the universe. Wasn’t worth keeping open.”
“You blew up the Berbabsywell Library too? Damn you! That bastion was holding the universe together!”
“What library were you talking about?”
“Pyrinian Central!”
“Oh. We didn’t do that. Did we?”
“I doubt it,” said Blayde. “I don’t have anything against libraries in general. Just those run by egomaniacs with an evil, non-literacy-related agenda.”
“And the Earth Agency?”
“Oh, well, that was a massive misunderstanding,” I said. “That wasn’t an attack. We were playing video games at an arcade, and it escalated. We didn’t do anything wrong!”
“And we’re supposed to take your word for it?”
Blayde rolled her eyes, returning to me. She was right. This wasn’t an argument we could win with words.
“We could jump them out to safety?” I whispered.
“And take them where? They could end up in a time period before the Alliance even formed. No, thanks.”
“If any of you have any call-backs or panic buttons, please use them now,” Blayde ordered our pack of survivors.
“I pressed my alarm when we first came in,” said the old man. “They know we’re here; they probably can’t get in.”
“The presidential security sucks,” she snarled. “They can’t get past a few insurgents?”
“From what I gather, it’s more than just a few insurgents. They took down security in less than a minute. They’re organized. They have people on the inside.”
“But it was a dumb attack,” said Blayde. “They got the president, but the vice president didn’t even come tonight. Most of the people killed were just minor nobles and others who have nothing to do with the government. Assassinating the people in charge of the problem is rebellion. Killing innocents is an act of terrorism.”
“Rebellion is terrorism if you get caught doing it,” the woman pointed out, calm and composed. Who was she?
“They haven’t even tried to take over any of the smaller planets yet,” the older man said, angry and annoyed. “They wanted to start big, it’s obvious, but they can’t take down the government in one badly put-together coup.”
“You’ve got to admit they managed to get this far. It’s not so badly put-together,” I said.
“But from here, what happens? The Alliance cannot fall in a day; it’s too widespread. It’s more than one person. As we speak, there are ministers, vice presidents, senators, congressmen, a whole strong government that can survive if their figurehead is taken down; they have before.” The old man shrugged. “Unless … maybe they struck the rest of the Alliance’s houses of power at once, and we simply don’t know about it yet.”
“Hello! Hello, one and all!”
All heads turned in the direction of the door. Blayde scooted over to get a good vantage point, her body flush with the wall once more, her entire being one with the shadows. She stared over the coat check desk, looking for the voice’s source. She didn’t have to look far. On the catwalk, over the stage, straight on over the end of the hall from them, a man in a standard bulletproof vest and the basic sea-black uniform of a reassigned child-hire stood with a megaphone in one hand and a rifle in the other. To his left, three or four women from the party were lined up, most on the verge of or in tears.
“Who is it?” I hissed.
“Left-handed reassigned child-hire, 1.8 meters I would guess, brown hair, no other distinguishing marks. Accent places him from Regis. Any guesses?”
“No. You have any idea?” I asked our group. Nothing but shrugs.
“He’s dressed in black. Frash, they’re all in black. Zander, there’s been a coup within the coup. Another group has taken charge.”
“Frash indeed.”
“As you may all have guessed by now, the situation is not good. We have the doors booby-trapped, so don’t even try to get out if you value your continued existence. You even stare at the doors sideways, you blow up. Boom, that’s it, and you’ll take out anyone near you. Wait too long to give yourself up, and boom, you take out everyone. So, all I can say, is this: Surrender to us, and your lives have a chance of being spared. All we want is hostages, and those, we keep alive. That is a promise. You have one hour, then we blow the entire building.”
Blayde swore under her breath. “Way to crash a party. Or crash the party crashers. Who is this?” She scanned the hall while she had the chance, searching for any signs of life. Someone from the line-up caught her eye. “Zan, they’ve got Sally.”
I felt as if I had just been dropped off the top of a spacescraper, and no one was willing to scrape me off the pavement.
The rebels have Sally.
“Frash,” I swore.
“Language,” said the girl afraid of coats.
“How come she always gets caught? Always!” I stammered. “I thought this would end with Nimien. But no, she’s been marked by the stars for bad luck or something.”
“And ironically, she’s ended up with you,” said Blayde. I swiped at her. “And this is fantastic! Now, we have someone on the inside. Think about it. We distract the leader, she steals a gun, and gets rid of him. It’s easy.”
“Blayde, how is she meant to know that’s what we want?”
She shrugged. “It was just an idea.” She glanced over at the door down the hallway, well concealed from the rebels who were now patrolling the raised pathway. “I’m going to check on the booby traps. Stay here, okay? Make sure everyone stays quiet.”
She jumped.
I returned to the coatroom, where the small group of people huddled in silence. I rubbed my hands together, trying to rub out the jitters. Sally was in the hands of a murderer, and while she had the experience, I wasn’t thrilled about the situation in the slightest.
“All right, we need a plan. Anyone? Any idea how we can all get out of here in one piece, probably freeing the hostages along the way?”
“We’re all going to die; we’re all going to die,” chanted the waiter.
“Are you really immortal?” one of the girls asked.
“Gen, stop!” Another one giggled.
“No, really!” the one named Gen said with an over-exaggerated smile, her eyes pinned on me. Dammit, I didn’t have time for this. “Is it true what they say on TV?”
“Uh, yeah, yes, I am. So, plans, anyone?”
“That’s hot,” she said with a giggle.
“Really hot,” said another.
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t a teen heartthrob. At least, not today. “Let’s continue. Shall we get back on track? We all want to survive, so we all need to work together.”
“Are you two married?”
“What?” I sputtered. “No, we’re siblings. She’s my sister!”
“So, you’re single?”
“I don’t know why I would tell you this, but no. No, I’m seeing someone.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Another girl gave me a mischievous smile. “Because, you know, I am about to die and—”
“Are you mad, child?” the old man spat. “Do you have a death wish? Throwing yourself at this murderer—”
“Woah, don’t throw out words like murderer!” I sputtered.
“You fangirls continue to confuse me,” he said. “Obsessi
ng over a dangerous man. I don’t get the appeal. He could literally kill you in an instant. No regrets, no questions asked.”
“A lot of regrets and a lot of questions, but none when it comes to you,” Blayde said, a little too harshly, waltzing back into the room. “If no one has anything else to say, then, well, it’s my turn to speak.”
“What did you find?”
“The doors are all wired to a mainframe, probably where the leader is positioned. They will blow individually if you try to open the door or all at the same time if he flicks the switch, taking the whole building down. It’s wired in such a way that I can’t split the signal from the command box to the explosives. If the wire is snapped, it blows. So, disarming it, for the moment, is out of the question. We need to get to the main control box, disarm it there. Or we could try negotiations. Any ideas?”
“I have one,” I said, trying to break free from the young women’s gaze. “We could do the royal hostage trick. It’s worked before.”
“We could try,” she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. She ripped a fur collar from one of the coats, making the girl called Gen squeak. The fur made for a convincing wig. “Anyone know if the president currently had a consort? Anyone?”
“He did,” replied the old man.
“Ooooh, definitely,” Gen said, beaming. “She was in last Tressuary’s issue of Pyrina Royal.”
“Is she here tonight?”
“No, she stayed back at her estate,” said the senior.
“You sure about this?”
“Yes, positive, I work—well, worked—very close with the president.”
“We’re all going to die; we’re all going to die,” chanted the waiter.
“What does she look like?”
“Oh, she’s ghastly.” The girl in red silk robes sighed heavily, brushing the debris off her skirt. “Stuck up type, you know.”
“Okay, good.” I rose to my feet, grabbing my gun and heading out to the hall. I paused at the coat clerk’s desk. “If all goes to plan, you’ll be able to get out in a few minutes.”
“Can’t we come with you?” Gen begged, becoming increasingly more pestilent by the minute. My poor nerves couldn’t take much more.
“Not if you want to stay alive.” I turned to my sister, aiming the gun at her chest. She feigned terror. “Come on, Mrs. Straiddies. We’ve got a party to save.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A cat, an amoeba, and two humans walk into a ball
Sally
This did not look good, but then again, nothing had of late.
Three other beings were crammed with me in the small guard room, the smell of sweat and foundation powder heavy in the air. A few members of the rebel group meandered in and out of the space, sometimes with a few strong words like, “Don’t you leave here or we shoot” or “When this is over tonight, we’re going to have a fun time.”
Gross and not at all creative.
Of course, they didn’t mean it. Intimidation was just their way of boosting their confidence or feeling powerful. I guess mirror affirmations weren’t enough for them. No way to feel scared when everyone is more terrified of you than you are of them. But the other hostages had no way of knowing this, and it rendered them completely useless; they shivered in fear and terror, on the verge of breaking down into tears.
This was not my first hostage situation, but it was the first one where other people were stuck with me. And since none of them were lucky enough to have regenerative cells, it was up to me to find a way out for all of them.
Not an easy feat.
Last time, however, I had been taken hostage by two complete dolts. At least I had that going for me. Put a bit of a damper on my time in Da-Duhui, let me tell you that. I could attempt to jump the others out, but I hadn’t jumped anyone but me before. At least, if you didn’t count jumping the siblings, and I’m convinced they give me a hand. On top of that, I didn’t want to give up my identity yet if I didn’t have to. No, I would have to think of another way to get everyone out.
What if Zander and Blayde distracted the rebels, and I stole one of their weapons? That could work, couldn’t it? It wasn’t like the siblings would know what I was going for; they wouldn’t have my back. Plus, there were too many other people with guns. Someone other than me could get hurt.
I looked around me at the scared faces of the three other hostages. The only thing that they had in common was their gowns: large, ornate, works of art, impossible to run in. One looked human like me, though with gravity-defying hair that was still the rage since the mayoral gala on Da-Duhui. She could have been my mother, if Mom had splurged for diamond skin implants. Another, an oversized single-celled organism, mildly opaque green, and soft at the edges like an amoeba. How and why she had shoes attached to her body was beyond me. Last but not least, a pink cat with its hair spiked into ridges. Our ragtag team of riches.
I cleared my throat. “Ahem.”
They looked up at me in confusion. One stepped up from terrified cowering, so that’s a start.
“What if I told you that help was on the way?” I asked.
They said nothing. I reached my fingers into the doorjamb, pressing it open slightly to look out into the room beyond. The catwalk was made of a fine grating so that security could look all the way down at the dancers, and I felt my stomach flip when I saw, once again, how high up we were.
What was the point of giving up mortality when losing my fear of heights wasn’t part of the deal?
The two guards who were meant to be watching us were leaning over the catwalk rail, smoking up a storm and chatting loudly enough that I didn’t have to worry about being overheard. I pushed the door slowly shut.
“Have any of you heard of the Iron and the Sand?” I asked.
Wrong question. The amoeba turned a violent shade of pink, possibly trying to camouflage herself into the cat person. A cat person whose entire hair just went straight as they hissed.
“They’re the rebels?” stammered the cat. “But there are so many of them!”
“No, they’re—”
“I should have known they were behind this!” The human clenched her fists. “Just like them to ruin an event of this scale! They’ve always had it out for this administration!”
“Actually, they’re our rescue party,” I replied. “Will you please calm down?”
“Calm down?” she spat. “They’re ruthless killing machines!”
“No, they’re not,” I replied. “They’re—it’s a long story.”
“Oh, come on, it’s obvious! It’s just like them to do something like this!” she sputtered. “They’re enemies of the Alliance; all they want to do is tear it down!”
I could feel bile rise in my throat, and I forced it down. Just in time to hold myself back from rolling my eyes as well. Damn, my whole body was annoyed. “They’re not behind this.”
“How can we trust you?” the girl asked. “You could be in cahoots with them!”
I threw my hands up in the air. “I’m literally being held hostage right now. Just like all of you.”
“This could be a trap!”
“How, in any way, would me being held a hostage be a trap?” I asked.
“You could be a plant to mislead us!” she said, jumping lightly to her feet. “They could be tricking us, so we reveal Alliance secrets! I’m not going to be tricked!”
“I’m not trying to trick you!” I sighed heavily. “I want us all to get out alive, so we should probably work together to achieve that.”
“And what of the siblings?” she snarled, “They’re lying, thieving, murderous criminals. And you just want us to believe that just by them being around we’ll get out of here in one piece?”
“Well, technically? Yes.”
“She’s insane.” The woman rolled her eyes, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. “We’re all going to go insane.”
“I think she’s telling the truth.” The cat person shrugged. They brushed their paws thro
ugh their hair, straightening it.
“What are you, senile?”
“When I was just your age, I met the siblings.” The cat person bristled. “I was out in the forest on Rhiti and was attacked by the Moss Monster.” I had no idea what they were talking about, but I had more good sense in me than to try and interrupt the story. “They fought it off and helped me back home. But when I told my parents, they said I wasn’t to speak of them. The Alliance said they were terrorists, so by associating with them, I must be one too. What? I thought to myself. They just couldn’t be.” They turned to me, forcing a smile despite the circumstances. “I believe you.”
“Well, I don’t,” the human scoffed.
“I do,” the amoeba said. “It’s not that I believe her, not entirely, but it’s better than sitting here doing nothing. Unless your whole plan is to wait for them to rescue us, in which case that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do?”
“You have got to be kidding me,” said the human. “You are seriously going along with this? These are the Iron and the Sand we’re talking about. You think the rebels out there are bad? These two have been murdering throughout history!”
“I don’t think they usually hire goons with guns, do you?” asked the cat. “The stories always have them working alone.”
“Working. What you call working, I call murder.”
“Can we please stop arguing?” asked the amoeba. “It makes my—”
Whatever they said next, my translator was too crappy to interpret, but they flailed their skin, and the two others cringed. Probably awful.
“We’re with you,” said the cat. “Do you have a plan?”
“Well, I’m working on one. And if work is getting too stressful, you need to sit back and relax with a delicious bowl of chachachaaaa stress parasites. Your stress melts away while you do your treaty-contracted diligence of feeding the parasites and protecting the star system in the process. A real win-win!”
