WHEN HEROES FALL

by Abby J. Reed

  I dropped to the floor. Circuit didn’t clang nearly as loud as his predecessor. “Uh, no.”

  “Bangit. Could’ve used what was left.”

  “Wait.” I backed out of the way for Malani. “How the hell is the war not over if the other tribes are mostly dead and the survivors on our side?”

  Cal tipped his face toward the entrance and Malani, whose ass now dangled over the ladder. “Hurry up. And redo the barricade, would you? They might’ve heard you. They prefer to come out at night when they can hide more easily.”

  The entrance above clanged shut, closing off the light, and I felt Malani drop next to me. “Who’s they?”

  The solalights guttered. A fire-lantern swung from a nail, the only light in the hallway. If I looked hard enough, I was sure I’d see the stain still smeared on the wall from when I knocked out Brody.

  “They, meaning the true enemy,” Cal said.

  I looked at Cal. Really looked. His eyes weren’t just tired. Gouges lined the creases of his eyes, as though something aimed for the sockets. His clothes weren’t just dirty. They were spattered with blood.

  Black blood.

  I reached blindly for Malani, a horrible sinking sensation in my gut. My cap rippled from a hook back into a dagger. Even Malani’s wings twitched. Ohhhh no. Don’t say it. Stars and ‘stroids, don’t say it.

  “Let me guess,” Malani said. “Black, metal, and like to tear and wear faces?”

  Cal started. “You know the Extrats?”

  Her wings flared and the night-dark edges of her feathers gleamed. “Oh. We know them.”

  ~ ~ ~

  My face drained of blood. Hell hell hell. I placed my hand against the grimy wall to hold myself up. The Extrats were on Scarlatti?

  “How do you know their name?” Malani said.

  Cal cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s what they’re called in the rest of the galaxy. How do Scarlattians know their name?”

  “That’s what Chief Malvyn called—”

  I waved Malani’s question off. “You’re missing the bigger question: How did the Extrats even get here?”

  Down deep, though, I wasn’t even surprised. Of course I abandoned the planet. Of course I found a worse threat than a three-way war. Of course this worse threat had found its way back to the very planet I left. A giant, bloody banging circle.

  All my gambling, and it turns out the game of life was rigged from the beginning.

  Cal took the lantern off the nail and led us down the hall. “They didn’t get here.” The light was a protective glow around us. A sliver of sky peeked through the ceiling. That explained why the air smelled damp. There was some flooding in here earlier. The tunnels needed major patchwork. He turned the opposite direction of where I came with Brody, toward the core. “They’ve been here the whole time.”

  I stumbled. “What?”

  “You remember when the Heron fortress burned?”

  “The night of the festival.” Malani sucked in a breath. “When the Elik retaliated for them taking me.”

  Cal nodded. “The Extrats came from the west, on the other side of the fortress, where they have beaches. They attacked the lower part of the fortress until they finally found a way in. That’s why the Elik were able to do damage. The Heron forces were split. Did you know there are a bunch of islands if you leave the valley? In the ocean, on the other side of the Herons?”

  I tested to make sure Circuit was still attached correctly, then hurried to catch up. “We saw them on the way in.”

  “We’re calling them the Black Chain now. ‘Cause apparently that’s where the Extrats were hiding.”

  That’d explain the boat bones we passed over. They had built ships to travel the ocean.

  Malani shivered and tucked her arms around herself.

  I rubbed her back. “You okay?” I whispered.

  She leaned against me and I tucked her underneath my arm. “The last time I was in the underground, things didn’t turn out so pleasant.”

  “I hear ya.”

  The deeper we wove through the tunnels, the more and more people showed up in the halls. I didn’t recognize any of them. Some huddled together, sleeping. Others nibbled on bits of food. Herons, based on their torn and ragged clothing.

  Refugees.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. The same people I’d grown up fearing were now sharing our living space and food.

  Cal didn’t seem to care though. He sighed, his face full of sorrow as he led us onward. “I keep trying to tell everyone in the halls there’s enough room in the core, but they won’t go.” He gave us a knowing look. “I think because it makes them feel trapped.”

  That, or, by the way they threw suspicious looks my way, they weren’t sure if they were welcomed by both the red- and blue-bloods now living with them.

  “You’re not mad they’re . . .” I hesitated. “Mad that they’re . . . Here?”

  Cal’s expression said only one thing: The ship of thought I was on needed to land fast. “I fought for them to be allowed in. Chief Malvyn was being . . . Difficult.”

  “You got him to relent?” That was surprising. Chief Malvyn would never offer a centi of space.

  “He didn’t have a choice. You don’t turn away people who need help, man. You should know that. It’s all that separates us from the Extrats.”

  “Still. I can’t believe he agreed.”

  “As I said. He had no choice.”

  I tilted my head at Cal, at the way he quickened his walk. Did Cal out-maneuver, out-power Chief Malvyn? How? A story hid in his words.

  I squinted at Malani. She didn’t seem upset by the Heron presence either. Cautious, maybe, but not bothered. And she had more reason than anybody to be wary. She caught my glance.

  “They wouldn’t have known I was in the fortress. Only a few did,” she whispered. “Besides, Cal’s right. They need help. We all need help.”

  My arm tightened around her in response. If the Extrats were truly here, we had bigger things to worry about than old prejudices. A lifetime of thinking couldn’t flip overnight. But I’d try.

  A man with a wad of stained verdant padding tied to his temple grasped at Cal’s tunic. “Cal. Cal look.”

  Cal immediately knelt and took the man’s hand. “Jorahe. Painow?”

  The man’s hand wobbled in a so-so motion.

  Malani’s mouth twitched. “That’s not a language.”

  “It’s not. More pidgin.” Cal gently peeled back the wadding. He brought out a vial and smeared ointment on the wound, then covered it with some fresh wadding from his other pocket. The man immediately relaxed as whatever Cal did gave him some relief. He patted the man’s hand. “From what I can tell, Jorahe was attacked on the way to the underground. Sometimes the Extrats just claw out the eyes. Sometimes they’d take the whole face. This guy got lucky.”

  The man mumbled in Heron.

  “He said, thank you,” Malani said.

  Cal turned to her. “You speak Heron? Oh sheesh, I forgot. We only have one other translator. It’s been a nightmare. Can you ask him to come to the makeshift hospital later so I can check on him?”

  Malani translated. The man brightened at hearing his language and responded happily.

  “He says it’d feel much better if there were more painkillers.”

  Cal chuckled. “Don’t I know it, man.” He patted the Heron on the shoulder. “Rest, Jorahe.” He lowered his voice. “Turns out the Herons metabolize meds quicker. It’s been making rationing harder. While I’m thinking of it, Breaker, lemme see your wrist.”

  I held out the cap obediently as he poked at it. He glanced to Malani. “I’m guessing you did this cap thing? Can you peel it back so I can see how it’s healing?”
<
br />   Malani’s dreads shook. “It’s already healed. It’s bonded to him. I couldn’t remove it now even if I wanted.”

  Cal considered, then let go of my wrist. “Well. If it hurts or anything, let me know. Not sure what I can do, but I can try.” When we passed the band of Herons, Cal paused, bit his lip. “The ancestors aren’t coming, then?”

  A soft bite hid in his tone. Almost like a backhanded accusation. How could I explain Scorpia to him? It didn’t feel right dropping everything we’d been through right here, right now. “Not the ancestors, no.”

  “So there’s no one else on Scarlatti to ask for help?” Malani said.

  Cal glanced over his shoulder. “Everyone we could’ve asked is already here.”

  We kept walking toward the core. Now those sitting in the hallways weren’t only Herons but other blood types. So strange to see three blood colors next to each other without guns waving or needle packets flying. I could usually tell who wasn’t Human because their faces didn’t have that echo of familiarity. The more we passed, the louder whispers grew. Quick, judging glances were thrown my way. A few waved, those I actually had conversations with in the past and knew me.

  But none of them glanced toward Circuit. Guess stealing a starship shocked them enough to make a prosthesis a footnote, not the main story.

  Cal looked over his shoulder at us, at my arm still draped around Malani’s shoulders. The lantern light illuminated his face and the wistful, exhausted expression. “So . . . you guys had quite the adventure, then?”

  My mouth twitched. I couldn’t tell what type of answer he wanted from me. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Well, when Luka comes back wearing a tunic like that it’s obvious something you claimed had to be true.” But he wasn’t looking at our clothing. He was staring at the lack of space between Malani and me. He’d once offered a spousal proposal to her. She immediately lost her temper and nearly tore the workshop apart, but I’d seen the way he looked at her. The spousal was offered in good faith and with a good heart.

  I sucked in a deep breath, drawing my arm away. “I never meant . . .”

  “It’s okay, man,” Cal said. “I made my decision. I stayed. And I still stand by it. The doctor died in the flash flood. Did you know there was a flood? The underground saved our lives. We would’ve all been dead otherwise.”

  I put my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’d be an ass if I wasn’t happy for you two.” He rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. His stomach growled, an angry rumbling noise. “Besides, I don’t know what would’ve happened if I left. I was needed.” He glanced between us and a true smile spread. “Honestly, everything’s been so banging rotten, I’m happy there’s a little bit of gladness still left in the world.”

  I met his gaze. Hesitated. Did I want to know the truth? Did I want to face what I left behind?

  My voice croaked. “Was it that bad?”

  Cal blinked.

  The Cal I left would’ve been honest but kept the mood light by cracking a joke.

  The Cal that stood before me now . . . His eyes were haunted with memory. They were still the same brown as before, but deeper, more empty, more hollow. I saw how the flash flood hit the apartments, saw how they swept away the enemy long enough to gain a respite, saw all the people he could not save within the great emptiness of his irises.

  I only experienced the horror on Syktyv for a couple horas. He’d been living through Syktyv every dia since I left. Whoever this version of Cal was, he was not the same Cal I left behind.

  That Cal had died.

  Regret wrenched inside me.

  My best friend turned away. “It was hell.”

  “You’re alive!” A hoarse voice rang through the hallway.

  I turned to the side to see Lewis rushing at me. My mouth split into a joyful grin as old Lewis with his still grease-smeared glasses and dingy old apron barreled into me, nearly sending Circuit sideways. The light feeling inside me grew as his thick arms wrapped around me, picking me up from the ground in a hug. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew you were alive.”

  He set me down with a thump. I wrapped my arms around the big man. The size of him made me feel like a kid again, glad to be in the presence of an older adult who would fix all the problems. I plucked at the apron hem. It was stretched to its limit. “You’re using my apron?”

  “Mine were too dirty. Too much blood. Figured you’d want to do the laundry when you got back.”

  “Hmph,” I said. “Got something for ya.” I slid off the bag and tore through the contents. I held out my lucky screwdriver. “Here.”

  Lewis took it reverently. “Never thought I’d see this again.” His eyes grew misty. He stuffed the screwdriver into his pocket and glanced at Malani. “Fix any toasters lately?”

  Her wings lifted and she offered a wry grin. “Just a ship.”

  “Oh, so Breaker’s sharing now, is he?”

  “Not if he had another choice.”

  “No surprise there.” He stood back, studying me. “You’re older.”

  I ran my hand down my jaw as if I ever could grow facial hair. “I haven’t been gone that long.”

  “Long enough to grow a white patch and maybe gain some wisdom. About time.” He prodded my body, getting every lingering ache and bruise. “Looks like you’re missing something.”

  I held out my cap for him to poke. “Can’t fix everything.”

  “Not that you wouldn’t try anyway.” He grunted, rotating the cap in the weak light. He scratched the flat surface, even held it aloft to sniff. “Better a hand than something else vital.” He winked. My cap rippled and a thin tendril wrapped around his finger, almost like the dark matter was saying hello.

  Lewis shuddered, then shook off the cap.

  “Wanna see my new Circuit?” I rolled my pant leg. “Like the new socket?” I said. “Air compression. He doesn’t pull on my back near as much anymore.”

  He squatted, tapped at my joints and welding work. “Nice job. Creative idea there, building in the gun holster.”

  My insides glowed with approval. “Luka’s idea. Not mine.”

  Lewis blanched. “Bastard’s still alive, eh?”

  I shrugged, half grinning. “Kind of hard to shove a guy that size off a starship without his cooperation.”

  “True.” He stood and wiped at his glasses. The movement was so typically Lewis, I almost bent over, struck again with the fact that he wasn’t dead. Lewis was also alive. And, unlike Cal, he hadn’t seemed to change. “Guess you don’t need your old prosthesis, then.”

  “You saved Circuit?” I pressed my palm to my chest. “I’m touched.”

  “Couldn’t let good parts go to rust in the bush, now. He’s a part of the underground. Held you together, now holding us together.”

  “Fitting. He was never meant to leave Scarlatti.” I paused and wiped furiously at the water welling in my eyes. Cal was okay. Lewis was okay. Maybe coming back wasn’t the worst decision in the universe. “I missed you.”

  I swear Lewis’s eyes grew even more misty. “I missed you too.” Suddenly, he leaned forward, whispering all conspiracy-level like. “So, did you find it? The ancestral planet? Was it worth it? Did you bring them back?”

  An ache grew in my chest. I looked away, anything to get away from those hope-filled eyes. No. No, I didn’t. I failed. And I might’ve made everything worse for Scarlatti in the process.

  A new voice broke through my shame. “Breaker?”

  My breathing grew ragged.

  Over Lewis’s shoulder stood two figures at the mouth of the hallway. My parents.

  ~ ~ ~

  I stiffened.

  My dad, big as ever, wore a bandage on his side. My mom still wore that dumbass RED BLOOD
FOR A RED PLANET banner. Both of them, alive.

  I should be feeling relief. I should be feeling grateful. I should be feeling anything except this general numbness. I didn’t deserve to be so lucky.

  I shifted on my heels, preparing to step away. I should’ve listened to Malani. There were too many ghosts here. Too much past to wade through.

  Malani shrunk behind me against the wall, out of sight. Cal and Lewis echoed her movement, peeling away to give my family space. Even the meager audience crouched in the halls turned away, sensing our need for privacy.

  My mom stepped forward first, her slow padding turning into a jog then a sprint. She flung open her arms in welcome. I didn’t have time to figure out my own response before she enveloped me. Her hug was taut and strong, and her body hummed with grief and relief.

  “Mom,” I managed to say. Shock kept my arms pinned to my sides.

  “Shhh. Shhh.” She patted my hair, not unlike what I did to Brody when he was little. “You’re safe. You’ve come home.” She was crying now. “Oh sweet stars, you’re home.”

  I hugged her back and let her sob. She felt so much more breakable than before, as though circumstance hacked at her frame, bit by bit, until this little worry-thing was left.

  My dad crept closer, much more slowly.

  I didn’t care. This was more than I ever hoped to receive.

  My mom finally leaned away. Her cheeks shone in the lantern light. “Gershom, come over here.” She tugged my dad close and I got a better look at them. They were both as soul-worn and weary as Cal. Right, my mom still wore the banner, but it was ragged and dirty. Pins and needles and a throwing knife wove into the fabric, like the message stitched into its length no longer mattered. The banner’s only relevance now was how it could be used for survival.

  My dad’s arms opened on auto. I stepped into them. His arms cocooned around me and I was flooded with all the times I came to him after a skinned knee and a warm hug had healed the pain. “I’m glad you’re safe, son.”