The Thieves of Nottica

by Ash Gray

  “We are made of starlight, all of us,” Hari whispered in Vitra, “and like the stars, one day we will wink out. But should our lives be spend in darkness before that time?” Her cyan eyes were large and sad. “If things don’t change, there will be only a desolate world for my son.” Her eyes grew distant. “An empty husk of a world, full of darkness . . . and ash . . . and the bones of those who came before.”

  “If that is the future,” Rigg said uncertainly, speaking as well in Vitra, “then what can we do to change it? Is changing it even possible?”

  Hari’s lips curled in a sad half-smile. “The future isn’t set in stone, Riggy. What I have shown you is one in many possible futures, but that does not mean it can not come to pass.” She frowned, going to the railing and peering down at the buildings far below. On her shoulder, Rivet was silent and appeared to be listening to their conversation with interest. “If things never change, the humans will use Nimestil until it withers away to nothing. And perhaps then they will move on to some other world.”

  Rigg listened to Hari’s soft, reflective voice, thinking she sounded very ethereal and otherworldly when speaking the demon tongues, like some sorrowful goddess, whose voice echoed with every word. She moved to Hari’s side, and together, they peered at the city below.

  “Then we need to send the humans packing,” Rigg said in Vitra. “Have you ever had dreams about where they came from? Maybe we could send them back.”

  Hari laughed and shook her head. “No. I never dream of where they came from, only that they arrived here in strange airships oozing pollution. They needed fuel and metals that did not exist here on Nimestil, so they could not repair their ships nor make replicas. They became stranded.”

  “So they couldn’t even achieve spaceflight again,” said Rigg in disappointment.

  “No. It will take some time for them to develop that technology again.”

  “Damn.”

  “Perhaps our alien friends will never leave us. When Arda was first pregnant with her egg,” Hari frowned, “she had a vision of a dark future, darker than mine. It frightened her terribly.” Hari dropped her eyes in shame. “I treated her like a child who’d had a nightmare. Though we were technically the same age, I was one minute older,” she laughed sadly, “so she was always a child to me.”

  Rigg shrugged. “You loved her, that’s why.”

  “But I shouldn’t have coddled her,” Hari said. “Our people have a saying. ‘Sit on an egg too long and it will crush.’ ” She shook her head. “I never really let Arda spread her wings. Now she has finally flown away to those lands of Never Night.” She placed a hand on her belly. “I will be with her there soon, and together,” she smiled and her cyan eyes glistened, wet with tears, “we will fly.”

  Rigg glanced at Hari from the corners of her eyes, chewing on her lip as if to chew back her own skepticism. She’d never believed in an afterlife or in the Old Gods. She figured if the Old Gods were real, they wouldn’t have allowed the humans to invade Nimestil in the first place.

  “How can you still believe in the gods after everything?” Rigg wondered. “When humans invaded, it proved there was life on other planets.”

  “Life on other planets does not disprove the existence or the compassion of our gods.”

  “Sure, it does,” Rigg said with a snort. “Assuming they even exist, they didn’t step in and save us. And the humans have gods that didn’t save them when they were stranded here.”

  “Imagine if the gods stepped in to fix our every problem,” answered Hari. “How would we learn? How would change as people? It is suffering that brings wisdom in mortals, Rigg. The gods know this.”

  “Well,” said Rigg stubbornly and glared off at the sky, “I wish the humans would gain some wisdom.”

  Hari smiled sadly. “I am sorry, Rigg. I feel badly for speaking in front of you about something you care so little for, but it is good to have some light in the darkness. Even if that light exists only in the mind.”

  Rigg shrugged. “I know it makes you feel better, but I think it’s arrogant to believe in anything anyway.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah,” Rigg said, frowning at the clouds. “No one can really know what’s out there. People are too small in the grand scheme of things. Saying we know and understand the gods is like a bug saying they know and understand our airships. They don’t and they can’t.”

  Hari smiled. “Fair enough.”

  “I’m glad it makes you happy, though,” Rigg added. “And if you want me to teach the kid . . .” She glanced sidelong at Hari’s belly. “I wouldn’t mind. I should probably give him Arda’s yo-yo too.” She looked at the yo-yo in her hand. “Seems right. It’s your family heirloom, after all.”

  “His name will be Ardicus,” Hari said, smiling as she rubbed her belly. Her eyes became distant and she peered out at the clouds a moment, as if listening to something only she could hear. “Yes, Ardicus,” she whispered contently. “He will carry on what Arda and I began. He will fight the Regime.” She smiled proudly. “And he will succeed where those before him failed.”

  “I hope so,” said Rigg wearily. She leaned her elbows on the railing again, letting the yo-yo drop to the end of its string. “I gotta admit, Hari . . . sometimes I feel like what we do is pointless.”

  Hari looked quickly at Rigg, her brows creasing in concern.

  “We steal somethin’,” Rigg said tiredly, switching back to Coglish, “an’ some upper class snots get mad, an’ the status quo is pissed off for ah while.” She frowned. “But does it really change anything? Reducin’ ourselves to pranksters feels like . . . it feels like givin’ in. Like acceptin’ that things can never change, that people can never change. I don’t think the humans can change, and I hate that I feel that way.”

  “I know, Rigg,” Hari answered softly, still speaking the Aerta tongue. “The point of the Keymasters was always to live in defiance of the Hand, not to dismantle it. Arda and I just didn’t see how we could. Perhaps we weren’t meant to. Someone, someday, will tear down all the humans have built and put a system in its place that will ensure the equal treatment of all people everywhere: robots, demons, and humans as well.” She frowned and whispered, “I have to believe that.”

  “Well,” Rigg pushed herself away from the rail and shoved her hands in her pockets, “I hope you’re wrong about Ardicus. Leadin’ ah grand revolution to completely rebuild society? Sounds like an awful lotta work for one kid.”

  Hari smiled fondly at Rigg. “He won’t be alone.”

  When Hari had gone, Rigg felt acutely miserable, as if the older woman’s words had left a bitter taste in her mouth. If Hari’s visions were correct, her son would become the leader of a great rebellion, and Rigg would help him bring it to fruition. But Rigg wasn’t certain she wanted a part in that story. Standing there as she thought about all she had endured in the last few months alone, she felt too tired to keep fighting the Hand. She just wanted to retire with Lisa on a smoggy beach somewhere and forget the world.

  Unfortunately for her, Rigg decided to go down to the hot tub to relax and came across Morganith having sex with Natasha. The two were in the hot tub when Rigg walked in, in their underwear, as they naturally hadn’t any swim clothes. Morganith had Natasha bent over the edge and was riding her from behind, her penis standing veined and erect from her boxer shorts, her shirt open to reveal her bare breasts. Natasha’s drawers were hanging around her thighs, and her chemise had been pulled up, the fabric bunching so that her bare breasts hung free, trembling with every rough slam of Morganith’s powerful hips. The Aonji demon’s shrill, baffled screams of delight froze Rigg in place for several seconds. Shaking her shock, Rigg quickly backtracked and walked away as fast as she could, not wanting to be heard in her hasty retreat. Somehow, she had the feeling Morganith knew she’d walked in and just didn’t care.

  Rigg was mortified later when Morganith came to speak to her. She had to wonder why she was bothered, though: she had accidentally
stumbled in on Morganith with Arda any number of times. Why was she so shocked and embarrassed now? Perhaps because she was so used to seeing Arda bent under Morganith. Natasha was a proponent of the enemy.

  Parasol was sailing serenely across the stars and Rigg was leaning her forearms against the railing, looking at the pale purple sky when Morganith approached her. They didn’t look at each other. Rigg kept looking at the stars and could hear Morganith lighting a cigarette. The halfling leaned on the railing beside Rigg, the cigarette in her lips as she rested her boot against the bottom rung and pressed her weight on her elbows. Her thick cloud of black hair obscured the side of her face, but Rigg could see her mouth, nose, and the tips of her long eyelashes as she looked out. They stood in silence for a time.

  “You ain’t scared of heights no more,” Morganith remarked.

  Rigg blinked as she realized: she hadn’t had a panic attack since they’d been on the Parasol. “What’s to be afraid of now?” she muttered tonelessly. “I haven’t got much to lose.” She thought of Lisa, Arda, and Hari -- Hari, who was destined to die.

  “Ya got me,” Morganith said quietly. “I ain’t goin’ no where, kid.”

  Rigg smiled as her own words repeated back to her.

  “And don’t worry about Lisa,” Morganith went on. “We just gotta find her a new setta tits. We plug her in a new bot and she’ll be back, ready an’ willin’ ta ask intrusive questions and blink her big shiny eyes.”

  “What if we don’t find ah new body?” Rigg worried. She dropped her eyes. “Sorry. It just feels so hopeless. Nothin’ ever goes right for me. Why should this?”

  Morganith caught her cigarette in two fingers and pulled on it. She exhaled a wreath of smoke and said softly, “There’s always hope.”

  “So you gotta plan for Pirayo?” Rigg asked after a pause. “I think Hari is dead set on butcherin’ ‘im.”

  Morganith laughed softly. “I know we should be puttin’ our heads together, but I’m half inclined to just take this ship and keep goin’ right into the sunset.”

  “No,” said Rigg darkly. “I don’t wanna exist in the same world as Pirayo.” Rigg dropped her eyes and whispered, “Hari’s the only real mother I ever known, and he took her away from me.”

  “Yeah,” Morganith agreed and shook her head in disgust, “and that fucker Kito. I knew that job seemed fishy, but I needed the damn riggits, so I kept my mouth shut. Then as soon as we get the lockbox, Crows are jumpin’ out the woodworks. Turns out Evrard knew we was comin’ all along – cuz Kito told ‘im. Arda is dead because of that rat bastard. If sheda lived, I coulda saved the money, gotten her an abortion, and she’d still be here. Didn’t matter that she didn’t love me no more. I loved her.” Morganith bitterly shook her head. “If I ever see his sorry, sniveling face again . . .”

  “I was real mad at Kito too, but now, after thinkin’ about it, it’s hard to be mad anymore,” Rigg admitted miserably.

  Morganith looked at Rigg in surprise, then looked out at the stars and slowly brought the cigarette to her lips again. “You lost your mind, Riggy?” she said quietly, exhaling smoke.

  “Maybe,” Rigg said, her eyes down. “I mean . . . Pirayo planned all along to rip us off.” Her face contorted. “I think he had designs on Arda and Hari from the start. But Kito? He was just weak. He didn’t deliberately set out to hurt no body. Hari says the Alteri believe the gods write our fate in the stars, and that’s why Alteri women can see into the future when they’re pregnant. It’s like . . . things just happen the way the gods planned. Like we’re onna stage entertainin’ ‘em, and we don’t hava choice.”

  “Everyone has a choice,” Morganith said at once. She made a face. “And you don’t even believe in the gods.”

  “Are you listenin’ to me?” Rigg demanded in exasperation. “Hari hadda vision! She showed it to me, and it was so . . . real.”

  “Yeah, I’m listenin’,” Morganith answered, “and Arda once told me pregnant Alteri women can see what might come to pass, not what will come to pass. What they see is just what people chose to do of their own shitty free will, not what they were forced to do by some gods.” She exhaled another wisp of smoke and said with a snort, “The fault ain’t in Kito’s stars, kid.”

  “No,” said Rigg, unconvinced. “I think we’re all given to our nature. Look at us, Morganith. Hari’s off tinkerin’ her brains out, I’m broodin’ alone --”

  “As usual,” said Morganith with a flat laugh.

  “-- and you’re off bangin’ anything that moves,” Rigg finished. She smiled sadly, gazing off at the stars. “And Arda, she was always nurturing. She woulda made her rounds, looked after all of us, made us feel better about the fight to come. She was always protective.”

  Morganith smiled sadly, thinking of Arda. “Yeah,” she said after a moment, “but we choose to be the way we are.” She held up her hand when Rigg started to protest. “I don’t mean bein’ demon or human or nothin’ like that. That’s beyond anyone’s control. No one can choose what they are, but we can sure as hell choose what we do. Kito didn’t have to submit to the Hand. He coulda died. I woulda died in his place, were it me.”

  “But maybe it’s not in Kito to be that brave,” Rigg insisted quietly. “Maybe he was born ah coward, or his experiences with the Hand made him ah coward, and there’s nothin’ he can do about it. Maybe there’s nothin’ any of us can do to change.”

  Morganith exhaled more smoke. “With that logic, you might as well say Pirayo can’t help bein’ ah monster, so we should all feel sorry for ‘im.” She snorted. “Over my frigid maggoty tits. Either way, the world sure would be ah better place with fewer cowards and monsters in it.” She glared into space, thinking of Kito. “Nah, kid,” Morganith said after a while, “the people may be strugglin’ under the Hand, but we can always choose to fight back, and humans can always choose to stop steppin’ on us. They just don’t want to. To hell with them. To hell with everything. And fuck the Hand.”

  Rigg grinned and suddenly felt elated. Morganith had always been the most diehard rebel in the group, the one who always insisted they keep fighting no matter how hopeless it seemed, and as such, had always inspired Rigg the most out of her companions. She wanted to tell Morganith that but didn’t know how, so she gave Morganith a fond nudge with her elbow that made the halfling smile.

  “I do have some information about Pirayo, though,” Morganith said. “Natasha’s been prepin’ info on this job for months now. Told me anything I wanted ta know.”

  “I bet she did,” Rigg muttered.

  Morganith glanced at her apologetically. “Riggy . . . It’s not like I’ve forgotten Arda. But, dammit, she and I broke up years ago. And I gotta dip my wick summa the time.”

  “But in Natasha? The gov’nor’s right hand?” Rigg scolded. “What were you thinkin’ bringin’ her along!”

  Morganith laughed softly. “I wasn’t. That’s the problem, thinkin’ with the little head: it’s got no brain.”

  Rigg made a disgusted noise and looked away. “You don’t even like cats.”

  Morganith smiled dreamily. “I don’t like cats but I sure love pussy.”

  Rigg rolled her eyes.

  “I also know who Natasha really is,” Morganith went on, catching Rigg’s interest again. “You keep forgettin’ I used to work for the Hand, kid. I was privy to a lot of their dirty laundry.”

  “So who is she?” Rigg prompted tiredly.

  Morganith exhaled wisps from her nose. “Evrard’s bastard daughter.”

  Rigg looked at Morganith quickly.

  “Cross my heart and hope ta die,” Morganith said with a half-smile and tapped ashes over the railing. “He didn’t mind sendin’ her along ‘cause he’s totally convinced of her devotion.” Morganith snorted. “Probably thinks she’ll spy on us for ‘im.”

  “How?” Rigg shook her head in amazement. “I mean . . . a man like Evrard, who hates demons . . .”

  “Hatin’ someone and wantin’ ta fuck ‘im can happen a
t the same time, Riggy, trust me,” Morganith answered. “Evrard used ta sprinkle his fucked genes all over the place in his wayward youth. He wasn’t content with bot brothels and the like. To hear the other humans tell it, he liked women with tails. Had his people search high an’ low for an Aonji woman who could make her face look like anyone.”

  “And he found Natasha’s mother.”

  “Yeah,” Morganith said. “Paid her a pretty riggit to do anything he wanted for six hours once a week and keep her mouth shut about it. See, he was hidin’ what was goin’ on from his family. Woulda looked real bad for the heir of the biggest demon-haters in Kettell to be caught bangin’ ah demon. One day, Natasha’s mother comes to their meetin’ place and announces she’s pregnant. Evrard has her whisked away underground to have the baby in secret. When it’s born, Natasha’s mother starts makin’ demands or else she won’t keep her mouth shut.”

  “He killed Natasha’s mother,” Rigg said darkly.

  Morganith shook her head. “Ah, no. Nothin’ like that. He gave Natasha’s mother the moon onna string, with the condition that she had to give up her eyesight.”

  “What!”

  “I know,” said Morganith grimly. “She also had ta go far away and never interfere in Natasha’s life or reveal her identity. Gov’nor then raises Natasha in secret, and she’s got no idea to this day who her real mother is or what even happened to her. She just knows she’s tired of bein’ Daddy’s tool. Girl’s got serious dad pain. Called me Daddy and everything while I was fuckin’ ‘er.” She shook her head and laughed flatly.

  “Can she be trusted?” Rigg insisted.

  “Oh yeah,” said Morganith confidently. “Natasha knows she’s ah fish inna fishbowl. She sees the way demons are treated while she gets ta live the highlife at their expense, and she wants out.”

  “Sounds like you,” Rigg said quietly.

  “She does,” Morganith agreed. “Not sure she wants ta officially join up with us, but she did promise to help us fight Pirayo, and I won’t turn down help when we need it.”