Children of Zero

by Andrew Calhoun

  “Stop!” Everyone froze, including Saeliko. The harker turned around in surprise to see that it had been Haley who had given the command in perfect Maelian.

  “Stop,” Haley said again in Maelian. There were tears in her eyes, and the side of her face where Saeliko’s scimitar had smacked her was red, but she wore a determined expression nonetheless. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

  2.6 SAELIKO

  Saeliko sat in Janx’s chair. My chair, she reminded herself. Her mind recoiled at the idea. She could see a couple of axes hanging on the wall. It took a considerable amount of willpower to restrain herself from walking over, grabbing one of them and applying it with reckless abandon to the twisting, contorted limbs of this oh so stupid contraption. Brenna was in the room; she could help.

  But the seed of an idea had planted itself in her brain. This idea was sprouting and spreading with disturbing velocity, and it was devoted to persuading her of a single unpleasant truth: she should keep the damn chair.

  As qarlden, she had never put much thought into Janx’s conduit, other than simply to label it a hideous apparatus that wasted a lot of much-needed space in the cabin. She had always known that Janx had been a devout worshipper of the Five and the Twenty-four, and that she had believed, for all intents and purposes, that the divine beings would commune with her in one way or another when she sat in the chair and hummed and prayed, or whatever it was that she had done.

  Now Saeliko was coming to understand that there was more to it than that. The chair wasn’t just for Janx. In fact, it might not have been for Janx at all. The chair was also – maybe only – for the crew. And this was partly because on the whole, sailors were a bloody superstitious lot. They were keenly attentive to (and aware of) omens, subtle signs, portents, rituals and whatever else might help them survive life at sea.

  Understandable, really. After all, life at sea consisted of being on a boat surrounded by things trying to kill you – water trying to drown you, sharks and other critters trying to eat you and various other groups of humans trying to shoot and stab you.

  And so the chair was most likely going to stay exactly where it was.

  “You lied to me,” Saeliko stated, forcing herself to re-focus on the matter at hand. The woman called Haley and the man called Kettle sat across from her. Neither of them responded, so Saeliko took the time to wipe the sweat off her brow with a stray bandana that was lying on the table. She took a healthy swig from an open bottle of wine. She then looked back to the two gape-mouthed fools sitting in front of her.

  “Perhaps you don’t understand how this works,” she said. The harker looked over toward Brenna, who was standing by the wall of weapons. “Brenna, can you tell them what we usually do around here when people lie to us?”

  “Chop ‘em up. Feed ‘em to the sharks.”

  “Thank you, Brenna.” She re-positioned her gaze on Haley in particular. It would be best to start with her. Women were more sensible than men, and this Kettle fellow seemed especially useless. “You see, we have a very low tolerance for lying on this humble ship of ours, and believe it or not, we’re actually pretty good at sussing out lies from truths. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” She leaned forward to emphasize the seriousness of her point.

  “I understand,” Haley said, her voice not much more than a whisper.

  “Good!” Saeliko exclaimed. “Glad to hear it. After all, I’d hate to have to kill you. I feel like we’re just starting to get to know each other.” She leaned back in her uncomfortable throne again, taking on a more relaxed posture. “Can I offer you some wine?” She motioned for Brenna to bring some cups. “We’re dreadfully low on stock, I’m afraid, but we’ve got a bit of Qomari red left that’s not so terrible.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Haley was obviously timid, but at least she was going to be cooperative. The parties waited in silence while Brenna set out two cups, pulled the cork out of a bottle with her teeth, drank some herself straight out of the bottle and then poured some out for Haley and Kettle. Saeliko kept her eyes on Haley through the whole process.

  “May I say something?” Kettle asked after taking a sip of wine.

  “By all means.”

  “We didn’t actually lie,” the man told her. “No one asked us specifically if we could speak Maelian. We just didn’t tell anyone that we could. That’s not really a lie. Plus, this sounds a bit crazy, but we didn’t actually know we could speak Maelian until just recently, and then it was . . .” Kettle’s voice trailed off when he saw Saeliko’s expression.

  “Brenna?”

  “Yes, harker.”

  “Cut off one of Kettle’s fingers.”

  “Aye, harker.” She pulled a knife out of her belt and advanced on Kettle, who immediately fell backwards off his chair and began scrambling along the floor like a spastic crab, legs jittering out this way and that as he tried to gain more traction. He was moving vaguely in the direction of the door, but Brenna caught up with him in three short strides and pinned him down with a knee square in the chest. This also had the helpful side-effect of knocking the wind right out of him.

  He raised his hand up to try to grab Brenna’s wrist to prevent her from using the knife. Brenna calmly used her free hand to punch Kettle in the side of the face, instantly dazing him and putting an end to his defiance.

  Haley was now just realizing that this wasn’t a joke or a bluff. She yelled at Brenna to stop. When she saw that Brenna was content to ignore her, she spun around to plead to the harker. “Tell her stop!” she demanded. “We’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hurt him!”

  Saeliko looked Haley in the eye and said “Lessons need to be learned.”

  Brenna used her weight to hold Kettle’s left hand firmly against the wooden floor and brought the knife down against the little finger between the knuckle and the first joint. She sliced into the flesh and Kettle screamed out, suddenly conscious of what was happening.

  Saeliko guessed that the knife hadn’t been sharpened recently. Brenna had to do a bit of sawing before the finger popped off. Once the job was done, she pulled herself up off of the still-screaming Kettle, picked up the finger and carried it to the rear of the cabin where the open windows revealed sun and sea. The qarlden tossed the digit out the window.

  The Saffisheen watched the man called Kettle squirm on the ground. He was alternating between sobs and screams, all the while holding his good hand over the wound trying to stop the blood from spurting out everywhere.

  Ollan had definitely been correct in his first analysis. These were not divine beings. They were feeble, coddled creatures that had been sheltered from the true harshness of the world. No woman or man with any self-worth would cry and whimper like a spoiled brat at losing a finger.

  “Brenna, get him up,” she commanded.

  The qarlden obeyed, walking back to the stricken Kettle and grabbing him roughly by the hair. She dragged him over to the table and forced him to hoist himself back up into the chair. Saeliko tossed over the bandana, which Brenna used to tie over Kettle’s hand, covering the stump where the finger used to be.

  “Kettle.” Saeliko snapped her fingers twice in front of the man’s face. “Focus, Kettle.” He looked like he might pass out. His eyes were starting to go glassy. “Look at me, Kettle,” she commanded. “I want to be sure that you understand what I’m telling you. Are you listening to me, Kettle?”

  He looked up at her. “Y . . . yes.”

  “Good. Now let’s get something completely straight, you and I.” She stopped when she saw Kettle glimpse back down at the blood seeping through the bandana. Saeliko stood up and leaned over the table. She grabbed his shirt by the collar and wrenched him forward so that his head was inches from her own. He yelped in surprise and pain. With her other hand, she clenched his jaw in her fingers and aligned his face so that his brown eyes were looking right at her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m listen . . . listening. Please.”

  “Okay, Kettle. On this ship
, when someone withholds important information, that’s considered the same as a lie. Had you told us you spoke Maelian, you could have saved everyone a whole lot of trouble, don’t you think?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Don’t call me ma’am. Call me harker.”

  “Yes, harker.”

  “And don’t lie to me again if you want to keep all your bits.”

  “Yes, harker.”

  “Excellent.” She released him and re-seated herself. “Brenna, I think we’re making progress here. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  “Okay, Haley,” Saeliko started, her attention returning to the non-blubbering member of the two.

  “Yes, Harker.” There were tears meandering down her face again. Saeliko considered smacking her for being so weak-minded, but that would probably be a non-constructive use of her time.

  “Tell me where you and your companions came from.”

  “I’m from Seoul,” she told Saeliko earnestly, “and Kettle is from Seattle. I’m not sure about the others, but I know they’re American.”

  Saeliko considered this answer. It was problematic, to say the least. She very much suspected that Haley was telling the truth. On the other hand, Saeliko had never heard of those places.

  “You were inside that metal thing when it hit the water. What was that?”

  “It was an . . . oh!” Haley paused, realizing something. She quickly glanced over at Brenna. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Please don’t punish me. It’s just that you don’t have a word for it in Maelian. In my mother language, we call it a bihaengi. In Kettle’s language, they call it an airplane.”

  Again, Saeliko was thrown off by the answers she was getting. Every answer was spawning multiple new questions in her mind. She mouthed the word bihaengi. This was getting her nowhere. A new tactic was needed.

  “Haley, do you know where you are?” she asked. She tried to make her question sound as non-threatening as possible. Saeliko was now less interested in intimidating the poor woman and more interested in getting to the bottom of this mystery.

  “On a ship.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant. Do you know what part of the world you’re in?” She pointed toward the open window. “Do you know what sea that is? Do you know any of the countries that sail these waters?”

  “Umm, I think we’re in the Indian Ocean,” Haley said.

  “Do you know the capital of Mael?”

  “No, I don’t. Actually, I don’t even know where that is.”

  “Do you know who the Saffisheen are?”

  “No, Harker.”

  “What about New Dagos?”

  “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “Myffa’s Cove?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make trouble. I’m just very confused right now.”

  Saeliko paused and looked back over to Kettle, who had blacked out at some point in the conversation. His head was awkwardly lilting over to one side and a clump of spittle was drooling down over his cheek.

  She glanced over at her qarlden. “Brenna, take him to Lofi and get him cleaned up.” Brenna walked over to the unconscious nine-fingered man and grabbed him by the arm. In one smooth motion, she lifted him up onto her broad shoulders, wearing him around her neck like a yoke.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Tell Ollan to come here.”

  “The Lavic?” There was confusion in Brenna’s voice.

  “Aye, the Lavic.”

  Brenna knew better than to push her luck with unnecessary questions, so she merely nodded and left the cabin, leaving the two women alone for the moment.

  Saeliko wanted Ollan to hear Haley’s story as well. The Lavic had a way of simplifying the complex. She wouldn’t depend on Ollan for a solution, but she would at least listen carefully to his ideas.

  Haley’s composure was deteriorating. She was beginning to fidget, wringing her hands together and then wiping her sweaty hands on the bottom of her vest. Her eyes would occasionally dart over to the wall of guns and blades.

  “You’re not what I expected,” Saeliko stated bluntly.

  “Pardon?”

  “For a woman, you’re very diffident.”

  “Diffident?”

  “You lack strength.”

  “The women on this ship seem very strong,” Haley admitted.

  “In Mael, women are leaders and men are donkeys. We lead and they follow. It is the same in all the five powers. Is it not the same in your . . . what did you call it? Sool?”

  “Seoul,” she corrected helpfully. “That’s the name of the city I’m from. The country is called Korea. Well, South Korea. My country was divided when . . . Oh, never mind.” She shook her head from side to side as if to clear her thoughts. When she was done, she re-arranged her rustled hair and started again. “It’s not the same in Korea. Women and men are equal. Well, sort of equal. The men tend to make more money and get better jobs, but I thought it was like that pretty much everywhere.”

  “It is like that nowhere,” Saeliko said. “Well, almost nowhere. I’ve heard of old tribes where men have say over the women, but nowhere in the civilized world.”

  Saeliko wondered if it might not be better to send her back to her cell and talk to the big guy with the tattoo of a ship on his arm. At least he had some fortitude. She decided against it. There was still something to be said for being a woman, even a woman as unassertive as this one.

  The door to the cabin opened and Ollan walked in. His face was, as usual, bereft of emotion. He had closed the door behind himself and then waited for his harker’s instructions. Saeliko pointed to the chair that Kettle had vacated not so long ago. Ollan took his cue and walked over to the chair, eyes briefly glancing toward the blood on the floor and on top of the table. A hint of a smile escaped from beneath his mask of apathy.

  “Haley, this is Ollan,” Saeliko said once the Lavic had settled in.

  “Nice to meet you.” Haley’s voice had grown smaller again. She also seemed to have physically shrunk now that Ollan was at her side rather than Kettle. His only response to her platitude was a non-committal grunt.

  “Haley says she’s from a city called Seoul in a country called Korea.”

  Ollan’s brows wrinkled. “Never heard of ‘em.”

  “Nor I,” Saeliko conceded. “Which is why we’re going to listen carefully to Haley as she tells us her life story.” The harker continued speaking to Ollan, but her eyes looked at Haley, indicating that she wasn’t so much explaining what Haley was going to do as she was ordering her to do it. “Haley’s going to tell us what her life was like in this Korea place, and then she’s going to explain as best she can how she got all the way to the Sollian without even knowing what the Sollian is.”

  Ollan leaned back in his chair, probably realizing that he was going to be here for a while.

  “Well then, Haley. I believe it’s time for you to begin.”

  And so Saeliko and Ollan sat back and listened, the harker ensconced in her conduit and Ollan on his simple but sturdy chair, while Haley began to weave the strangest tale that Saeliko had ever heard in her two decades plus of life.

  From time to time, Saeliko would ask questions, asking the Korean to clarify what she meant or describe something in greater detail. The harker asked questions about the hierarchies in society, for it was hard to imagine any such place where men were given positions of political and military leadership.

  Ollan didn’t say a word. Occasionally, he reached up to scratch the stubble around his chin, but otherwise it would have been hard to tell that he had not fallen asleep with his eyes open. But Saeliko knew he was absorbing everything the stranger said.

  Minutes passed into hours. Saeliko forced Haley to slow down when she got to the part where she and her companions got on their bihaengi and flew into the sky.

  She started to get upset again when she talked about one of the other people on the bihaengi. Apparently he did things to her, and K
ettle as well. And before he had died, he had yelled out three words – Radovan Mozik Maglipan.

  Ollan perked up at this last bit.

  Throughout it all, Saeliko’s instincts told her that the most reasonable conclusion would be to label Haley as a madwoman who had created an entire world in her diseased imagination. Almost everything she said was ludicrous. The machinery, the automations, the social systems, everything right down to her desire to study the migration patterns of a type of bird. It was inconceivable. Downright insane.

  But Saeliko had seen the bihaengi with her own eyes. It was real.

  The entire tale ended with the words “. . . and then you rescued me.”

  All three of them were suddenly lost to their own thoughts. Saeliko wondered if she were any better off now than she was before hearing Haley’s story. It was hard to tell.

  The Korean broke the silence. “May I ask a question?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Well, we’re going to start by teaching you how to use a bloody cutlass. You’re not going to last very long in the Sollian without knowing how to protect yourself.”

  “Oh.” Haley didn’t look very happy with that answer.

  Suddenly Ollan spoke up. “One more thing,” he said. Both women in the room looked at him in surprise. “Those words. Radovan Mozik Maglipan.”

  “Yes?” Haley asked.

  “Never say them again. And tell Kettle to never say them again. The others in your group, too. Forget you ever heard them.”

  Haley looked confused. For that matter, Saeliko was also confused.

  The big man continued. “If you speak those words to anyone on this boat, I’ll kill you myself.”

  2.7 JANX

  It had been three days since the Epoch had departed Butterfly Island. Three long, excruciatingly painful days. Three days of agonizingly brutal lightning streaks of pain racing up and down her right arm from the shoulder down to the stump just below the elbow. She swore up and down that she could still feel pain in her hand and fingers even though they were no longer there. And beneath the intermittent gnashing, there was a constant river of dull, hammering where the bone, sinew, muscle and skin was trying to repair itself beneath Lofi’s handiwork. On top of all that, her body had been wracked with the side effects of massive trauma – the headaches, diarrhea, vomiting and all the other little pleasantries of life on the mend.