“I’m an old friend of an old friend.” Pajak crossed his arms over his chest. “I can almost see him in you. I can see why Webley acted the way he did. He would never punish his favorite son the way he did me.”
Ypsilon tilted her head to the side. Though Arija couldn’t see her face, she could picture the Grinder’s cocky grin. Ypsilon didn’t like being challenged, and Pajak was laying it on thick.
“Listen, Riddles, I didn’t come here to talk about me.” Ypsilon snapped Bangarang from its holster and pointed the pistol at Pajak.
“So dramatic. Looks like my little brother gave you some of his personality as well.”
Ypsilon cocked the hammer on her pistol. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Pajak began.
Ypsilon didn’t reply. Her gun was still pointed at Pajak but Arija could see her hands trembling.
“Pajak, we must go. The delivery should be getting to its destination at any moment. We need to be there,” the Plague Doctor broke in.
“I suppose you’re right.” Pajak smiled. “We are more alike than you think Ypsilon. Come find me when you have questions.”
“Screw you. Tell me what you’re talking about or you won’t even hear the shot,” Ypsilon warned.
“Next time, young one.” Pajak motioned behind the group, his laugh like an inside joke with himself.
“Adal!” Arija shouted.
Adal dropped just as the bladed arm of a Geartha swiped at his head. He rolled toward Ypsilon, narrowly missing a second strike. Ypsilon released a volley of profanities as she spun and fanned her revolver. Shot after shot soared through the air and tore into the attacker.
“Where did they go?” Adal shouted.
“Shit!” Arija grabbed her rifle, using the scope to search for the Geartha. She turned back to where Pajak and the Plague Doctor stood, but they were gone.
Ypsilon fired as another Geartha flew at the group. “What is it with this place and shit trying to kill me?”
“Wait until you’ve been here a little longer,” Arija growled as she used the scope of her rifle to spot the incoming enemies. “There!” she yelled and Ypsilon fired, sending a round into the incoming predator’s head.
“Less fighty! More killy!” Adal yelled as he emptied his gun into a Geartha coming at them from the side.
5|Not in Kansas Anymore
Adal and Arija stood next to the coffee table in Webley’s study explaining what had happened back at Aesop’s Station. Maza, Van and Kip sat on the couch but Ypsilon was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands together and chewing a hole into her bottom lip.
Arija’s face scrunched up. “Hey Kip, what did you guys do with all the bodies?”
“So, Pajak’s back?” Kip said, awkwardly ignoring the question.
Arija waited a second before she replied. “Yeah, and he’s got a new friend.”
“We had them,” Adal assured. “They had to pull some stupid bullshit to get away.”
Van adjusted Maza’s bandages. “All that stuff aside, what are we going to do now?” She’d managed to stop the bleeding, the fresh bandages showing no signs of the damage underneath.
The Tekaha chief had been sleeping when Adal, Arija and Ypsilon got back and he was still drifting in and out. Kip said he’d given him something to help with the pain, but it looked like it was helping with a lot more than just discomfort. Adal eyed Maza, wondering if it was a bad idea to have him so loopy when Pajak and the Plague Doctor could show up at any minute.
“Well, we need to get to my shop in the city. I have more supplies to help Maza there and I can really go over the samples that I collected from some of the crazed Dwellers,” Kip chimed in, pulling Adal from his thoughts.
Arija pulled her gaze away from Ypsilon. “You took samples?”
“Well I had Van gather samples.”
Van pulled a vile from her pocket. “Yeah, after Ypsilon left, I went around and took fluid samples from some of the bodies. We figured that whatever was affecting them might affect Kip but probably would be harmless to me.”
Adal let a smile spread across his face. It was good seeing Van back in the swing of things. The cold feeling he got when she froze had worried him. It reminded him of when his grandfather talked about shell shock or trench sickness. It was what happened when you saw the horrors of battle and your brain couldn’t take it.
“Good thinking,” Arija said as she brought her attention back to Ypsilon's pacing. “What do you guys think Pajak meant when he said they were late for an appointment?” She settled into one of the arm chairs.
“Who knows,” Adal replied. “All I know is we’ll stop him again.”
“And where’s Webley?” Kip asked.
Tension filled the room again. The fact that Webley still hadn’t turned up wasn’t a good sign.
“First things first, we need to get to the shop and fix up Maza so we can figure out what the hell is happening,” Arija said before Adal could speculate on the missing giant. “If Aesop’s Station is any sign of things to come, we have to get ahead of this.”
“You mean this mechanical zombie apocalypse led by evil Spider-man and a stranger with a beak?” Adal asked. “Just so I’m clear on the mess we got ourselves into here.”
“Sounds about right,” Ypsilon finally said, as if coming out of a long sleep.
All heads turned toward the Grinder, but no one dared to address how she’d been acting since they’d gotten back to the house.
Arija stood. “If we’re going to get this party moving, we need to prepare for it. I’m talking full kit and gear and we need to have a direct plan for getting through this. Those things, Pajak called them Prowlers, could be anywhere, and that Plague Doctor is no joke. If her and Pajak show up again we might not make it out.”
Arija gave Adal the look. It always meant the same thing: here comes the shit, you got me, I got you. He wouldn’t have it any other way. “Let’s get ready for the fun.”
Adal walked over to the bookshelves and twisted the gear that would reveal the arsenal. He grabbed several tin cases overflowing with ammunition and made his way to the couch. Arija fisted several handfuls of ammo and reloaded her weapons, tossing the leftovers into her pocket.
When Ypsilon made her way to the case, Adal stopped reloading his weapon to watch her. She rubbed the butt of Bangarang’s grip as she examined the weapons in the arsenal. Ypsilon reached out and let her hand trace over a mid-sized rifle. She brought the weapon to her face, sliding her hands up and down the smooth barrel and steel lever of the action. Slamming the butt of the stock to her shoulder, Ypsilon racked the lever-action and pulled the trigger. Click. She pointed at another object, racked the empty rifle and pulled the trigger again. Click. Point, rack, click. Point, rack, click. “Mama like.”
Ypsilon stalked over to the couch, but she turned back to look at something in the arsenal. Gently placing her rifle on the top of the couch, she returned to the row of weapons. The rifle teetered then tipped, nearly hitting Adal in the head. He caught it and situated it on the floor as Ypsilon approached the hanging items on the side of the weapons cache. She snatched a silver cylinder off the wall to examine it. Confusion covered her face. She squinted as she leaned down to scrutinize the object.
Adal’s gaze shot from Ypsilon to Arija.
Ypsilon ran her fingers over the side of the cylinder and, with a sharp twang, the ends extended, exposing a full-length staff. The last time Adal had seen that staff in action, Cog was fighting off a horde of Kleinmasch.
Everyone sat in silence, watching as Ypsilon worked the tool out. A delicate spin. Then another, faster spin. Followed by another and another. Ypsilon worked the staff in an assortment of twirls, lobbing it into the air and catching it again as though she’d used it a thousand times.
Suddenly Ypsilon stopped. The breeze generated by the spinning rod died. Ypsilon’s face softened. Her clenched jaw and glare of concentration fell away. She slowly lifted the hem of her sh
irt, exposing a small tattoo etched into her skin. A diamond with a small line protruding from the base. Ypsilon looked at the symbol pointing down her hip. Her eyebrows knit together. She dropped the staff to the ground and sprinted out of the room.
“What the hell was that about?” Adal asked.
Arija picked up the staff. “I have no idea.” She pressed a small button on the side of the staff and the weapon retracted.
Adal rose from his seat. Etched into the silver metal, was the same symbol as Ypsilon’s tattoo. “Shit,” Adal said, taking the staff from Arija. “I need to handle this. Keep getting ready. I just need a minute.”
Adal didn’t wait for a reply. He handed Arija the staff and sprinted for the door.
Adal played back the conversation he had with Ypsilon in the Burning City. She said she found out some shit and needed to get away to figure it all out. He figured that she found out something about her past. Something he and Arija knew but were sworn to secrecy. That Cog had made Ypsilon against Webley’s orders and she was half Dweller, half human. So why was she having such a hard time with all this?
The lights had gone down in the Machine and the plum hue of evening covered the area outside the house. A chill tinted the air and danced over Adal’s skin as he searched for where Ypsilon had gone. Ever since he was a kid, Adal had loved this time of day. The buzz in the nighttime air electrified him, giving him strength.
The sound of shifting metal brought Adal’s attention to the structures above the house. “How did she get up there so fast?”
Adal leaned inside the kitchen door, grabbed one of the fleigensacks hanging on the hooks and slung it over his shoulder. The buzz from the mechanical wings’ scales vibrating made him nostalgic for the brief time he and Arija were war heroes and the fighting went silent for a minute. Now here they went again.
Adal twisted through the sporadic framework as he struggled to catch up to Ypsilon. Ahead of him, Ypsilon swung and jumped from one beam to the next, her kit giving her the extra boost she needed. For a Grinder, the webbed beams that made up the World Machine must be heaven. The kit each Grinder wore had abilities that could be modified to give them strength, speed and a slew of other things.
As Ypsilon swung deeper into the Machine, Adal lost sight of her. “Damn, I can’t see shit! I need light.” At the word light, two small arms emerged from the backpack and traced around his neck. With a whir and a pop, a set of goggles slid over his face. Oranges and ambers suddenly filled his sight and the drifting dusk was replaced with a vibrant dawn. “I really need to sit Kip down and learn how everything works before I say ‘ass’ and I get more than I bargained for.”
Finally sitting alone on a crossbeam, Ypsilon looked off into the Machine. Her expression was sad, which scared Adal more than anything. He didn’t think psychopaths had emotions. Deciding to give her a little space, he landed on the other edge of the beam roughly twenty yards behind the Grinder. At the very least, it gave him a head start if he needed it.
“You make it a point to follow everyone around in the night like a damn creeper, or is it just me?” Ypsilon yelled over her shoulder.
Retracting his wings, Adal said, “Well, I mean you just bounced out of there without saying anything. I thought you were on your way to get into some fun without us.” He walked along the beam towards Ypsilon. Forgetting he was standing on iron, Adal plopped down and a sharp pain shot up his spine.
“Yeah, fun.”
Adal was officially uncomfortable. The only emotions he’d ever seen Ypsilon express were angry, bitchy, or hungry. Usually all at the same time. “So, you going to tell me what’s up or are you going to keep wearing me out with this ‘Madame Mysterious’ game you got going?”
Ypsilon didn’t answer, she just shook her head, her colorful hair dancing around her pale complexion.
Adal stared into the Machine for a few moments, allowing the silence to embrace them before he said, “Sorry. Jokes are kinda my thing. Seriously, though. You good? I know you said you figured some shit out back in the Burning City and that’s why you were there. You needed to get away. Not that I care, you know, but you want to talk about it?”
Ypsilon turned to look at him. Her scowl said it all, but he was ready for that. For a moment, he thought she was going to murder him right then and there, but a sudden roar of laughter scared him so badly he nearly fell to his death.
“You really are an idiot, Adal. I don’t know what Arija sees in your ass.”
“Its perfection.”
“Nah. Maza has a perfect ass. Maza has a perfect… everything. You’re just a cocky kid compared to him.”
Adal sucked his teeth, but now wasn’t the time to rile her up. “So, what did you find out?”
When she didn’t get a rise out of Adal, Ypsilon released a long, exhausted exhale. “You know. Don’t play like you don’t. I know all about the conversation you and Arija had with Al. And I also know why you can’t talk about it.”
Adal thought back to that night in Taraveil, outside of Ypsilon’s home. He and Arija stood with that world's version of Webley, a man called Al. Al told them that he was Webley’s brother and that they were a race of aliens known as Creators that traveled the galaxies making worlds. Al had explained that Ypsilon was a creature created by Cog and that it was illegal for non-Creators to make sentient life, which was why Webley and Cog had hid Ypsilon on Taraveil and kept her identity from everyone.
“Shortly after you left, I was going over monitor coverage of our compound to look at possible areas of weakness should the Senate attack us again. While reviewing those records, I came across the footage from that night of you guys speaking with Al.” Ypsilon went quiet. “I heard everything.”
Adal couldn’t even begin to imagine how it felt to find out your entire existence was a lie.
“No wonder you left to get away. That had to feel like everything was—”
“Fake as shit?” Ypsilon finished. “Yeah, I just had to clear my head. How do you process that, you know? Now I find out my father is from Earth and he’s dead. I mean, I always figured he was dead but it’s another thing completely to know it’s true. My life has gotten way more complicated than it should be. You know? I used to only worry about robbing bitches and kicking ass, now there’s all this mess.”
“So, what now? I mean, we’re here, shit’s going down. We’re going to need you, you know? What can I do?” Adal asked. “What do you need?”
Ypsilon’s jaw flexed as words obviously rolled through her head. “I want answers.” She rolled up her shirt and pointed at the tattoo.
“You and me both. I tell you what, we need you on this. You stick it through, help us kick some ass, and I will personally make it a point to get us both answers. Webley created the World Machine, and my world grew on top of it. Somehow, my entire species is tied to him. Do we have a deal?” Adal stretched out his fist.
Ypsilon chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. Then she pounded his fist with hers. “Yeah, we have a deal. Besides, I’ve never kicked the shit out of robot-people before. It was a fun new challenge. Guess I can cross that off my bucket list. Who knows, maybe I’ll get even better than I already am. I mean, it is kinda hard to improve perfection, but we can always try.”
“Nah, you can’t get better than perfect. Trust me, I’ve been trying for a minute.”
6|Well This is Awkward
Arija pulled a large leather duffle bag from underneath the couch and began filling it with weapons from the armory. Adal and Ypsilon had been gone for a while and she was starting to think everyone could use a good night’s sleep before they headed into the Machine to find Webley. They’d been through too much already today and it was getting late.
Arija was filling a side pocket with as many rounds of ammunition as the pouch could hold when Adal and Ypsilon came strolling back into the study.
“Hey. Everything all right?” Arija said as she stopped packing.
Ypsilon nodded. “Yeah. All good.”
&nb
sp; “So, I was thinking we could make it an early night so we can get a fresh start in the morning. Let everyone get some well-deserved rest before we go fight yet another war.” Arija pushed herself up off the floor and closed the armory.
Ypsilon pulled Maza to his feet. “Works for me.” She felt her way up his arms, stopping at the bulge of muscle at his biceps. “Mamma’s got just the medicine to make you feel good as new.”
Ypsilon’s words seemed to pull Maza from his drug-induced daze and a devilish smile spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her in the air. Ypsilon wrapped her legs around his waist.
As Maza attempted a step forward, he stumbled, clearly still affected by whatever Kip had given him. Ypsilon slid off him and grabbed him by the shoulder to steady the warrior chief. “Don’t strain yourself big guy, I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”
Kip and Van slid off the couch in unison, both obviously annoyed at the display of affection. “Just keep it down tonight. Some of us are trying to get some sleep,” Van huffed as she headed towards the spiral staircase that lead up to the bedrooms. Kip followed her.
Ypsilon helped Maza make his way toward the stairs. As she passed Adal she said, “You can be as loud as you want.” She winked at Arija sending a tidal wave of embarrassment across her face.
Then it was just Adal and Arija awkwardly standing in the study, trying not to make eye contact.
Arija thought her body temperature had increased at least ten degrees and the banging of her heart against her ribcage was all she could hear. But on the plus side, at least her pounding heart was drowning out the stupidity flowing from her mouth. “So, you want to go to bed? Uh… No… I mean, like in our room… Ummm… rooms.”
A nervous chuckle escaped her lips and Arija willed her brain to regain control over her mouth. She tried to swallow the words, but they just kept coming, making the situation worse. “What I meant to say is, you don’t have to go to bed with me… I mean, unless you want to… Why can’t I stop talking? ...Sorry.” She hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud, but it was like her mouth had organized a mutiny and her brain was powerless to stop it.
Ypsilon and the Plague Doctor Page 5
