by Azalea Ellis
And what better set-up to make us look crazed with the Sickness than in front of a group of hastily-assembled reporters rabid for the next news on the godkiller?
The only redeeming fact was that I didn’t sense anyone besides Reglium, and he needed line of sight to control his victims.
“Change of plans,” I announced, to both my team and the reporters. “We have reason to believe that a group of people who do not wish us to continue trying to cure the Sickness—I suppose you could call them allies of the Sickness—are attempting to stop us. We must board the ship now, and you all are coming with us. You may be in danger if we leave you behind unprotected.”
Chapter 4
I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night.
— H.P. Lovecraft
Most of the reporters stared in shocked silence, as Adam directed the shields centered in space around his body to move along with our large group toward the ship. A couple of the reporters were cognizant enough to ask questions, but I ignored them.
We shuffled together up the ramp to the large door, which opened into the side of the ship. Once inside, Adam blocked off said doorway with ink, then moved to shove his hands into the guts of the electrical control pad beside it. “Eugh,” he said, since some of those guts were a bit more biological than electrical. Still, a few experimental pulses of electricity from him and a flutter of his eyelids as he activated his Hyper Focus and Electric Sovereign Skills at the same time, and the door behind us slid closed, ignoring the cries of the workers still outside. “It’s locked,” he said.
One of the reporters shoved his shining tube camera toward me. “Who are these allies of the Sickness pursuing you, Eve-Redding?”
Torliam gave him a glare, and the other man stepped back. “This ship cannot stay here any longer,” he said. “We must also deviate from the acknowledged flight path.” He left unspoken that if Ichi knew where we were, even if that happened to be a thousand feet above the planet and flying through the air, he might still be able to teleport himself, and perhaps others, to us. Torliam didn’t even wait for me to respond, instead motioning for Blaine to follow as he sprinted off along the curved hallway.
I ran after the two of them, with the rest of the team and then the reporters following behind. “Prepare for emergency takeoff!” I yelled, as we passed what seemed to be one of the ship’s staff.
He jerked around to watch as we rushed past, blurting out, “Eve-Redding?” and then cursing as he fumbled the platter he was carrying, sending food flying everywhere.
Jacky grabbed a slab of meat before it could hit the floor.
I repeated the warning as we passed through a common area with row upon row of safety seats, where most of the civilians seemed to be milling around. I slowed a little and directed the reporters to strap themselves into a seat.
“Can you give us some insight into this emergency situation?” one of them asked.
I continued after Torliam without answering.
He led us to a large command room and shooed one of the uniformed employees away from the main control console. He turned to the man in the most centralized seat. “Captain. On behalf of Eve-Redding and our people’s fight against the Sickness, I am commandeering this ship. You are relieved of duty.”
The man swiveled in the large chair, his eyes taking the group in with a single assessing sweep. “There are civilians on board,” he said. “This is not an appropriate ship for any military operations.”
Adam grabbed the man Torliam had shooed, his spider-legs invading the Estreyan’s personal space a little too close for comfort, judging by the look on the other man’s face. “We need to send a message to the queen. Open the secure communications system.”
Torliam didn’t back down. “There is no choice. Step aside, Captain.”
The captain’s jaw clenched, but he relinquished his seat and nodded at his underling, who’d looked to him for guidance. The flight crew left the control room to us, some more reluctantly than others.
Torliam sat in front of the console and got immediately to work. The ship started to rumble sub-audibly as he activated the flight systems. Then Torliam sent out a message to the passengers and other employees through the intercom. “This is Torliam of the line of Aethezriel. We are commencing emergency takeoff. Please find a secure location.”
I sat next to Adam as he worked the communications system. “Everybody, strap in,” I said to the rest of the team, then followed my own advice.
"We will be gone before the queen’s people have time to react, with my skill as a pilot and a small dose of luck," Torliam said.
Adam finished with the console and nodded to me. “You’re connected. One-way only, secure as I can make it.”
The control room fell silent, except for the ambient sounds of the ship straining against gravity. I took a deep breath and leaned forward, typing out a message on the unfamiliar Estreyan console as quickly as I could.
We have escaped. You may be prepared to retaliate either in punishment for our disobedience, or to remove our perceived threat to you entirely. I caution you, stay your hand until you watch the upcoming news broadcasts. The world will watch along with you, and it is far too late to stop dispersal of my talks with the reporters. Any movement against us will only tighten the noose around your own neck. Do not misunderstand. We have not attempted to destroy you. However, if we see a hint of further aggression on your part, or come into contact with any we find suspicious or threatening, you have given me the perfect idea for retaliation and defamation. Any threat to us will be declared a carrier of the Sickness, and their removal called for immediately. You have been given a reprieve. Do not be the cause of your own destruction.
I sent the message.
Under Torliam’s guidance, the ship climbed and continued to climb, till even its huge form might have been confused for a bird or a small speck in the sky. “We will continue for a couple more Earth-hour lengths at this height,” he said. “I have turned off the location beacon on the ship, but people may still track our flight by sight or use a Skill to deduce our destination. We must remain watchful.”
I nodded. It was time. “I’m going to talk to the reporters. I need the rest of you to make sure the passengers are alright and keep them subdued if necessary.”
Jacky gave me a thumbs-up as she swallowed the last of the meat she’d rescued earlier and tossed her head in a way that would have flung her hair around if it wasn’t cut in a short pixie style, since most of it had burned away during our fight with Ifkana’s assassins.
Kris nodded seriously, the single marionette she’d brought with us rising from its crouched position at the far side of the room. “We’ll handle it,” she said, shoulders back and chin thrust up.
Adam renewed his ink harness and legs with a huff and a tremble that he quickly suppressed. “I’ll make sure no one is broadcasting our location, either purposefully or not.”
—Don’t push yourself too hard.—
-Eve-
He read the Window, shot me a hard glare, and skittered out of the room without another word.
Chanelle looked vacant again and didn’t respond when we spoke to her, so we left her strapped into the chair where she sat.
Torliam turned away from the controls for a moment. “Remember, your Charisma levels.” It was a covert reminder not to lie. Did he think I had so much trouble telling the truth?
Back in the room with the rows of harness-seats, the reporters talked dramatically into their cameras about the “unknown danger,” “allies of the Sickness,” and their inclusion into the “emergency escape with the prophesied Eve-Redding.” Altogether, they seemed much more excited than afraid. Was that a good thing, or bad?
Chatter from both the reporters and the alarmed civilians died down when I entered the room. I sat down in one of the few open chairs across from the reporters, in full view of the rest of the occupants. “I will give your interview now,” I said. For w
hat I was about to say, the more witnesses the better. It would make it harder for Queen Mardinest to extricate herself from the consequences. The reporters had been told clearly that certain avenues of questioning were off limits, so as long as the interview went smoothly, the payoff would be even higher. I’d sent the threat to Queen Mardinest. Now it was time to actually back it up with something, even if all I had to fight with were words.
Cold sweat trickled down my back. I spoke before they could start hurtling questions at me again. “My power can defeat the Sickness. Even so, it is not what we need. It is a weapon and a shield, not a cure. For that reason, I and my team will continue to search for the Champion of old, the god who can cure—truly cure—the Sickness, whose blood runs in my veins in some small measure.”
When I paused, the reporters called out questions, each one talking over the others. In the background, the ship’s passengers watched the interview with avid fascination, talking amongst themselves and calling out the occasional question, though they were drowned out by the loudness of the reporters.
“Did the God of Knowledge show you where to find the Champion?”
“Many experts do not believe this god exists. Do you have proof otherwise?”
“Do you feel your search for the Champion is in danger from the people who forced this emergency flight away from the capitol?”
I met their eyes, but continued to ignore their questions. “Part of the reason I’ve come to this ship is to talk to the leaders of the Panacean and the other dignitaries aboard. Current policy is to immediately kill any infected and attempt to sterilize them and their belongings with fire. These laws were implemented to mitigate the crazed destruction someone carrying the Sickness may enact if allowed to degrade until death, as well as attempt to stop further spread of the disease. I believe that for the first time, there may be a better way. There are still those who do not believe we may ever defeat the Sickness. There are those who have lost all hope of a better future. These people are wrong. I will find a way not just to stop the Sickness, but to remove its grasp on those who have already succumbed. My team and I will return your loved ones to you, themselves in mind and body once more.”
I paused, and the reporters jumped in like excited puppies.
“Do you plan to enact new policies for dealing with the infected?”
“How long do you estimate this search for a cure will take?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have the authority to enact new policies, but I do hope to open communication about a better way to preserve lives while my team and I continue our search.” Vagueness was key in avoiding a lie, but I hoped I wasn’t laying it on too thick.
Before I could take a breath, they continued.
“Will you be calling on further warrior forces to aid you in your quest?”
“Eve-Redding, you were forced to kill the God of Knowledge when you discovered he had been infected. If even the gods are succumbing, what do you base your belief that a cure is possible on?”
I kept my face calm and confident, while I tried to figure out how to walk the fine line between truth and fiction. “First, the God of Knowledge is very much ‘alive.’ I simply dispersed his physical manifestation. I acted somewhat like a fever, burning out the Sickness, quite literally. I was given a boon in exchange for cleansing him, and had previously received three gifts from the Oracle to guide us on the path. My team has received Bestowals from both the Goddess of Chaos, and the Goddess of Testimony and Lore. Yesterday, I spoke with Queen Mardinest about my plans to stop the Sickness, and we discussed those within the very palace who I know to be touched by it.”
My words were bait, and they bit down eagerly.
“Can you release any information about those within the palace who have the Sickness?”
“Queen Mardinest previously refused to have her daughter cleansed when Tonila was diagnosed, leading to the current law that does not allow pardons for those sentenced to death because of infection. Does this hold any connection to any new policies you may plan to enact?”
“I will not comment on my knowledge of the infected unless it becomes necessary to protect my team.” There. I’d insinuated people with the Sickness might be a danger to us, and that if so I’d reveal their identities. “Normal contact with an infected person has no proven correlation to the spread of the disease.” Unless they had meningolycanosis and decided to bite you, but that wasn’t normal contact. “Before symptoms begin to show, they themselves may not even realize they have it. They are just like you or me. I will not condemn any infected to an even earlier death, because it does not matter! When we are finished, those people may be healed. So I say to you, do not lose hope. Do not turn to fear, anger, and thoughtless violence. Those affected by the Sickness are not our enemy. The Sickness itself is our enemy.” Voice added a faint reverberation to my words, and when I paused for effect, most of the reporters didn’t jump back in with questions immediately.
Unfortunately, one of them did, visibly steeling himself before he spoke. “How do you feel about Queen Mardinest’s declaration of war on your birth world? Does the invasion of Earth factor into your plans?”
My jaw tightened, despite my attempts to seem unfazed. Questions about the invasion had been clearly marked as off-limits to all the reporters we contacted. Unlike Earth, Estreyer didn’t have even nominal freedom of the press, but there was enough that news companies not directly sponsored by the crown of a country might speak against its leader’s actions. This reporter must have been an independent, or hailing from one of the countries Queen Mardinest didn’t control, and decided that we couldn’t stop him once he’d already asked the question. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.
But how was I supposed to answer him without lying, and also keep from cementing Queen Mardinest as my mortal enemy? “I don’t believe the invasion of Earth is the answer to either world’s problems,” I said. That was honesty. Now, time for misdirection of a sort. “For one, the bans on using the arrays were placed for seemingly sound reasons. However, I am not the ruler of this land, so it is not my place to make policies.” Would my response stand up to scrutiny? I hoped so, for the sake of any fragile armistice that might remain between the queen and me.
I could see the reporters slavering to ask more penetration questions, so I tossed out the sparkly distraction I’d been planning all along. “I realize there is no time to waste. While our abrupt departure from the capitol was primarily meant to ensure our safety, we are taking the opportunity to pursue another goal as well. I have received a new quest from the Oracle.” The tension grew palpable, as a wave of excitement spread throughout the room. I held up a hand to stop their questions. “I cannot relate the details of this quest for fear that our enemies may try to stop us before we are able to complete it, but we are acting toward its objective even now.” It was true. By Torliam’s estimates, we’d be to the Spire in another few hours. “Coincidentally, you have been brought along on this quest. For this reason, I must end all recordings now. The interview will be broadcast from the secure console of this ship, and, after that, information must remain secure until our quest has been completed and we part ways.”
I could smell my own sweat. I shifted uncomfortably, glancing out the huge viewing window built into the common area of the passenger ship. Hopefully, the passengers crowded in a half circle around me weren’t offended. My sweat smelled different than I remembered. Maybe the sharper, less musky and more citric scent was a product of my Perception changing after Chaos burned away and remade such a large portion of my body, or maybe that same metamorphosis had altered me enough that I just didn’t smell quite human anymore.
I fended off questions about my interview from the civilians and tried to ingratiate myself with them and the various dignitaries who spoke to me. I resisted the urge to flinch back and release my claws as a large man swung a paw-like hand around to pat my shoulder, almost as heavily as Jacky might.
I looked around, hoping to find an escape path, an
d caught Adam’s eye. He’d grumbled about the “idiotic lack of security” inherent in letting all the passengers stay free. I agreed with him to a degree, but the whole point of commandeering the passenger ship and talking to the reporters was to stay in the public eye and ensure our popularity protected us.
Now, though, he was grinning as a group of Estreyan women crowded around him. He unbuckled some of the armor over his arms to show off his tattoos. The cooing of his fans was audible, and I had to consciously keep from rolling my eyes as he allowed them to reach out and touch his arms. I guess he’d changed his mind about fraternizing with the civilians.
I turned away, feeling vaguely irritated, and looked instead out onto the abandoned Estreyan city far below, making vague sounds to pretend I was still contributing to the conversation around me. I knew their population had been greater once, and I’d been to Trials where I walked through the remnants of their civilization, but the sight reminded what it really meant. The Estreyans were dying out.
I turned, and caught Jacky’s scowl. She’d been backed into a corner by a man who towered over her. Despite her expression, she did not meet his eyes, and her hands were tightened into fists.
He reached out to clamp his hand around her shoulder, and, as I focused past the general chatter, I caught him saying “tiny little thing.”
“Excuse me,” I said to the group around me. “There’s an issue I have to deal with.” I walked away without waiting for a response.
Jacky’s face twisted with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher when she saw me, but I thought at least some of it was relief.
