by Jack Conner
“Those days are over,” she added. “You made your choice.”
He frowned. “You almost sound angry with me about it.”
“You ruined me, Doctor. Surely you realize that. With your insipid refusal to surrender to the inevitable, you ruined me.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”
Another awkward silence stretched. Somewhere a bat shrieked, and water dripped onto the metal top of the train with one faint plop, then another. The train itself emitted occasional cracks and groans as it settled. Avery realized he would never get a better chance. Time to get some answers. They had nowhere to go, nothing to do but sit and recover for a few minutes. He saw her see it, too. She tensed, then adopted a smug, half-amused waiting posture.
He started with a probe: “What’s an atheist doing serving the Collossum, anyway?” When she merely raised her eyebrows, he pressed, “Just why do you serve them? Are you really Ghenisan? Is Sheridan even your real name?”
She took another sip. “Yes,” she said, apparently having decided to play along for now. “Sheridan’s my real name. I grew up in a lower-tier upper-class family in Ghenisa, just like you think I did. The Sheridan name is an old one, once even noble. You should know it isn’t manufactured.”
He knew dark rumors had circulated for years that the Sheridans had secretly supported the nobles after the Revolution and had led an underground organization to rescue them from the clutches of mobs and sneak them away. It was possible they had even once saved his wife’s family. Despite this hint of disgrace, many of the Sheridan family patriarchs and matriarchs had served faithfully in the Navy, and there was more than one public building named after them.
“Everything you know about me is true,” she said. “Except for one thing.”
“What?” Here it is.
“You ...” Her voice grew quiet. “You don’t know about my daughter.”
“Yes, you said in Maqarl ...” He rubbed his face. “How did I not know you had a daughter?”
“This was twenty years ago, Doctor.”
He nodded. Sheridan was only a couple of years younger than he was, which would make her about twenty when this happened. A young, hot-blooded naval officer. “Who was the father?” he asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Was it Hambry?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “No.” Breath hissed between her teeth, and she killed her glass. “If you must know, it was an officer from another ship. He’s dead now. Cancer. At any rate, I had a daughter. I loved her, more than I’d ever loved anything, and it was painful to leave her when I was at sea. But back then, long before the war, duties asea were fewer and less arduous.”
He studied her. She was very serious. “What was her name?”
“Marisca,” she said, and it sounded like a prayer. “Marisca.”
He looked down at his glass. Nearly empty. He refreshed his, then hers, and both sipped. She said nothing, just stared into the middle distance.
“What happened?” he ventured.
“She got sick. A fever. She died. She was six years old.” Her voice was flat and unemotional, as if stating the weather.
“I ... I’m sorry.”
Her lips tightened. “Yes.”
He felt a chill. “There’s more?”
Without looking at him, she said, “Do you know how she died?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “From incompetence. From anarchy. She died of a simple fever, Doctor. A fever! A little cold, a flu. Nothing serious. But the hospitals were so fucked up they couldn’t stop a little girl’s fever. There were three different doctors, and I don’t know how many nurses. All tried. All shot her up with something that only made her sicker, and all charged me exorbitantly for it. The place was bedlam, Doctor. It was a madhouse. Patients were pushing money on the doctors and buying prescriptions, even pills outright, some illegal. The doctors were renting the nurses out as whores. The whores were sabotaging each other. Everyone was too busy to actually practice medicine.”
He heard a hatred so deep in her that it had grown weary. An old ember flamed far back in her eyes, but she didn’t let it take over.
“Yes,” he said, remembering. “When I first entered medicine, the field was quite corrupt. I remember having to fight an uphill battle most days. It’s much different now, though. That was a bad time.” For awhile they drank in silence. At last he said, “Was that ... was that when you turned against Ghenisa?”
Slowly, she nodded. “I hated the government for its corruptness and incompetence—so much so that the corruption was spilling over into every sector, even medicine.”
“But that was a long time ago, under the old regime. Things are so much better now, under Prime Minister Denaris.”
“And how long before she’s overthrown by another coup and we’re in for another round of firing squads and hangings? How long before her head is stuck on a spike over the Courthouse?” She shook her head. “No, Ghenisa’s lost. It’ll never stand on its feet, not under its own power.”
“You’re wrong. It was getting better—the New Dawn—things were stable … until the war. Why are you helping them? The Octunggen? I know why you hate Ghenisa now, wrong as you are, but why that?”
“They came to me. They had evidence that my family was descended from old Octunggen stock hundreds of years ago, even royalty, and that I might well have the Blood in my veins. The blood of gods!” She laughed bitterly. “At the time I thought that really meant something. Now I know the Blood just means mutation, and I have no mutation in my family. Nor will I accept the Sacrament. But that was it. That moment. He, the man, offered me a mission from the gods to hand over Ghenisa, which I hated, on a silver platter, to Octung, my true homeland. How could I refuse?”
Avery studied her for a long moment. He heard raggedness and self-loathing in her voice, and he wasn’t sure what to think.
“So they lied,” he said.
She finished off her glass. “They lied. It’s what they do, the recruiters. But it’s too late to go back.”
“You could. I would help you. Vouch for you.”
She stared at him over the glass’s rim, and her eyes sparkled with amusement, but only for a moment. “You really think you can win me back?”
“They would take you, I’m sure of it. They wouldn’t even have to know of all you’d done.”
“You’re ridiculous. But ...” In a softer voice, she said, “But I almost think you mean it. No, don’t say it. I don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit tonight, or whatever it is. It’s time to get this heap going again.”
With a grunt, she hauled herself to her feet. He struggled with himself, then rose to help her.
“You can’t be serious,” he said. “You need rest and sleep.”
“That won’t help get this Device of yours to my superiors, will it?” She strapped the backpack back on. “No, I’ll do that first, then I’ll rest. And sleep. Don’t fuck with me and I might even let you off before then. Come with me all the way and I might be able to help you get Ani back. That’s all the assurance you’ll get out of me. And you’re lucky to get that, now that I am in a position to bargain from. Yes, that time has come.”
She marched up the aisle toward the engine. Frowning, he watched her go. Then, unwilling to leave it at that, he set out after her.
“They lied,” he pressed. “They’re evil. How can you help them?”
Shoving open the door, she stepped out onto the connecting platform and pushed into the next car. Over her shoulder, she said, “Octung is a glorious nation, Doctor, and I’m descended from nobles there. It is my ancestral homeland, and I do hate Ghenisa. None of that was a lie. Octung, a civilized, efficient country, with one of the highest standards of living in the world, seeking to take over the rest of the world and make it a better place—versus my own corrupt, inept Ghenisa, whose faults killed my daughter. There really was never a question.”
“So you’re loyal to them—to Octung?”
“I am.”
“But they’re mad! They worship monsters! Awful things!”
“Things like your lover?” She laughed. “Oh, yes, that did not escape me.”
“That’s different, and it doesn’t make the rest of the Collossum less evil.”
She wheeled to face him. “Listen, Doctor. I know quite well what they are. And just so you know, I work for a faction of the government that is taking action against them.”
“What?”
“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”
“No ... what ... ?”
She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “I’m no fool, Doctor. Neither are those I work for. The Red Hand. We’ve seen how the Collossum manipulate us, how they use us. They were very clever about it, and we were blind to it for a long time. For centuries. But there was a faction among our leaders that remained skeptical. Distrustful. They watched and waited. When the Collossum’s true goal became clear—that they meant to infect the populace of the world to use as sacrifices and slaves, and then have their new slaves strip the planet bare and use its raw materials to reach the stars—we, the Red Hand, made plans.”
“What plans?”
Her smile faded. “To get this Device, for one. To reverse its functions and activate it.”
“But that will only ensure Octung wins—that the Collossum win.”
She shook her head, adamant. “No. You see, when the reversed Device is fired, it will make our extradimensional weapons stronger—strong enough to use against them.”
He felt his jaw fall open.
“So,” he said. “So ...”
She nodded, once, slowly. “Yes. We will destroy the bastards. Drive them into the sea and be rid of them once and for all. Octung shall prevail, and it shall be free.” She stood in triumph for a moment, then let out a breath and sagged. “But only if I get this thing to my superiors. It must be taken to the sea, apparently. It seems to me that the best way to do that would be to bring it to the Over-City and have it take the thing there—an entire fortified city should be able to bring the Device there safely, don’t you think, and they can do the work necessary to reverse its functions on the way.”
“So you’re taking it to the Over-City.” That gave him hope.
“And let your people hunt me all the way there? That would be stupid.” She resumed making for the engine. “No, I’ll hand it over to the first Octunggen superior I see. I’ll have my authority reinstated and then personally oversee the Device’s transfer, under heavy guard, to the Over-City.”
“What about my daughter?”
She turned back. “Ani can be yours again, as I said, but only if you cooperate. You’ll have to come with me into Octung-occupied territory before I can send for her. I can promise I’ll protect you as best I can. You might not even be tortured and executed.”
She reached the engine, started it up, and soon the train was under way once more. Its rocking shook him, and he tasted smoke in his mouth.
He made his way back toward the rear compartment, where he slunk into a chair and stared off into the distance, what there was of it, not really seeing anything.
A sort of chirping, chittering noise made him glance up. Hildebrand, Hildra’s monkey, scuttled in out of the shadows, his eyes wide, his manner subdued. Avery patted his lap, and Hildebrand climbed up his leg and perched on his knee, then stared up at him. Matted hair stuck out all over the little fellow, and he didn’t look like he’d eaten in days. His dark eyes were huge.
“Let’s see what we can do for you,” Avery said.
He dug through the available packs until he found a snack bar made of oats, broke it in half and munched on one piece while Hildebrand ripped into the other. The monkey gnawed on it like a starved wolf, chomping it with large white teeth. When he was done, crumbs clung to the fur around his mouth and down his chest. He panted terribly.
Frowning in concern, Avery let the monkey drink from his canteen. Hildebrand lifted it high and let the water flow into his mouth. Liquid gushed to either side, making his fur glisten.
“Careful with that,” Avery said gently, lowering it. “We can’t afford to lose any water. Gods know when we’ll see more.”
* * *
Avery dreamed of Ani. She was small and frail, her eyes like moons, her hollow cheeks besmirched with grime, hair unwashed. She wore a ragged dress and clutched a threadbare toy bear to her chest; it bore a large bald patch on its head and Avery remembered she’d called it “Papa Bear”—which he had rolled his eyes at long ago, not wanting his daughter to think of his baldness as his most distinctive feature. Now she clutched it with white fingers and seemed to huddle in on herself. Bright lights surrounded her, visibly paining her, and somewhere a bone saw screamed. Brutal-looking scientific equipment set in a ring about her, half hidden in shadow. He sensed dark forms with glinting needles, pliers and scalpels and saws. They moved in, spiraling amongst the machinery, almost like ghosts, closer, gibbering to each other in inhuman titters and scrabbles.
Stay away from my daughter! he screamed, but they couldn’t hear him, and though he ran toward her—ran so fast he gasped and oozed sweat—he could not reach her, could not get closer, and the screech of the bone saw grew louder in the background. Louder. Closer.
Louder ...
... closer ...
Ani screamed.
He woke up panting, stretched out on one of the benches, his back aching. Hildebrand slept by his side, curled up under one arm. Around them, the train rattled on.
* * *
They had obviously passed into the space between cities, because they encountered no platforms for a long ways, no avenues to the surface. So they continued on, through the crowded darkness, which was sometimes hot, sometimes eerily cold. They no longer had any way of clearing the obstacles across the tracks, so they found themselves taking wide detours whenever they hit an obstruction. Though they frequently consulted the maps, Avery feared they were going further and further off course, a suspicion only heightened when the terrain they passed through no longer corroborated with what the maps told them.
For his part, Avery wanted to reach the surface and get out of these godsforsaken tunnels as soon as possible. They were beginning to run low on water. They had plenty of dried food, but water was something else entirely. Sometimes they would have to stop the train in a wide cavern and go exploring side-halls until they found a spring or a pool. More than one local resident tried to make a meal of them. Sheridan shot several, and she and Avery attempted to dine on more than one. Once they became so sick after ingesting the meat of a giant white spider that they couldn’t move from the cavern for two days, and they both reeled in strange dreams.
Meanwhile Sheridan’s leg clearly pained her, but she pushed herself on with reckless determination. Soon the wound grew red, and pus leaked out of it. Avery chastised her and tended to her as best he could, but he couldn’t forestall the fever that welled over her and dragged her off into delirium. Before she passed into it, she handcuffed him to a pole, using cuffs she had taken from the guards back in Golna, and told him, half mockingly, “Stay there.”
“This is idiocy,” he said, rattling his chain. “I can’t reach you. I barely have enough food and water, and you’re going to need me to tend to you.”
She grinned raggedly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I ...”
“And this backpack of mine would be out the door before my eyes closed.”
She was right, and they both knew it. So he spent three days chained to the pole, having to urinate and defecate in a collection of bowls, disgusted by the workings of his own body, while Sheridan, no physical ideal herself at this point, lolled in a fever on the other side of the car. She slipped in and out of consciousness, and at times she screamed Marisca over and over again. Avery thought she might die or wake up with her mind irreparably damaged. Chained as he was, there was no way he could help, and if she died he would follow unless he could find a way to free hi
mself. He imagined chewing through his wrist, cauterizing the wound in the furnace, then wandering the black tunnels sightlessly for the rest of his short days, the fate of the world on his bent back.
But, with her indomitable will, Sheridan recovered. She struggled out of the fever, regained some measure of her strength and freed him. His wrist had become so raw from the cuffs that he had to douse the wounds in alcohol to prevent infection, and it burned so badly he nearly passed out.
The train roared on. Sometimes Sheridan would chain him in the engine room and force him to pilot them while she slept, and sometimes she would lock him up while she drove so that she didn’t have to worry about him creeping up on her from behind. After the episode of her fever, she was at least kind enough not to chain him up using the same wrist. She alternated between his left hand and his ankles. Her own wounds continued to plague her, and though she grudgingly allowed him to work on her, she never allowed herself enough time to rest and heal. She pushed herself to the brink of collapse, even death, again and again, reining herself in just in time every time.
The journey took a toll on her. She looked thinner, and weaker, and her hair fell lankly over her face. Fire still blazed in her eyes, but her cheeks were growing gaunt.
Finally, after what seemed like years but was probably only a week or two, they emerged from the darkness into light.
It was not what Avery expected.
* * *
He was asleep in the rear when sudden brightness woke him. He sat up sharply, and Hildebrand—who’d been asleep curled up on his chest—scampered away with a shriek. Avery threw a hand over his face and mashed his eyes shut.
Light. Everything was light. It pained him, like daggers through his eyes. He cursed and muttered and tried to block it out. Hildebrand hooted fearfully.
Around him the train shuddered to a stop. Long minutes passed, during which some of the pain retreated, and Avery dared to open his eyes. The brightness stabbed him, but this time he was prepared. It flooded the train, bathing it, revealing all the chips and defects of the interior.
