by Eyal Kless
Mannes turned around and motioned with his hand for Emilija to come close. She was standing by the man with the wide-brimmed hat who earlier today had shot that woman in the chest. Emilija dutifully walked forward until she stood in front of her mother. The effect on the tough CommWoman was nothing short of dramatic. Vincha seemed to lose all the fire within her.
“Emilija,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks, “I’m so sorry.”
The young woman stood motionless for a long, uncomfortable moment, then, as if remembering something, smiled at her mother, reached out, and wiped the tears from one side of her mother’s face.
“There, there,” she said in a singsong tone of voice one would use for toddlers. “All will be fine. Don’t cry, little one. I will come soon to see you, and bring you presents. You don’t need to cry because of the other kids, just do as you are told and be a good girl.”
Vincha lowered her head as Emilija continued talking softly to her mother. The short sentences seemed odd and disconnected, but with each word her tone of voice hardened. “You should be patient. Do as you’re told. Don’t go out. Be careful what you say. Don’t play with the other kids, one day you’ll understand. We have to move again. I will come to see you soon, soon I said. Don’t cry. You have to hide or the bad people will come. Stop behaving like a baby. Because you were not careful, now we have to move again. Why are you like this? Are you not happy to see me? Look, I brought you a present, we’ll have to insert it under your skin. What’s wrong with you?” Suddenly Emilija’s eyes lit up and she smiled broadly. “There, there,” she said again, her tone of voice light and soothing. She leaned forward and hugged her now-sobbing mother, whispered something in her ear, and kissed her cheek. Then she simply turned and walked away.
It was bloodless and without violence, but in a way, it was the most horrific scene I had ever witnessed.
Mannes took her place. “You managed to hide your daughter for a long time,” he said, “and for that, in a way, I owe you my thanks. But her fate is inevitable, you must know that, deep down inside.”
Say what you like about Vincha, she recovered fast. “Rust on your fate, corpse.” She lifted her head and stretched her neck towards Mannes, baring her teeth as if wanting to take a bite out of him. “What’s inevitable is me killing you very slowly if you lay one finger on her.”
I was half expecting him to shoot her right there and then, but I found out Mannes was a crueler man than I had imagined.
“I am going to take your daughter and use her for what she was born to do,” he said calmly. “She seems willing enough to do it now, but the process can be . . . excruciating. If she changes her mind or resists, I will harm your friends first, then you, until she fully cooperates. If it gives you any comfort, her fate will bring justice to many.”
Ignoring Vincha’s response of shouting profanities, Mannes stepped back and ordered, “Take them to the secure cell. Make sure there is a channel open for a possible broadcast.”
A moment later, he was walking slowly towards Emilija as we were dragged away.
Chapter 69
Peach
There is nothing out of the ordinary in waking up, unless you are dead. My death, as far as I can remember, was actually painless. The initial shock of being shot twice in the chest was replaced by my vessel’s self-protection mechanism, which dampened the pain to a minimum. My ESM should have kicked in, but this was not like losing an arm in United Korea or having my teeth pulled out in Tokyo. This was two point-blank shots to the chest. There was not much my vessel could have done. Sergiu was a good shot, so all things considered, there are worse ways to go. What was left for me to experience was light quickly dwindling into darkness. As I lay on the ground, blood oozing out of my vessel, the last image I saw was Sergiu leaning down to check my weakening pulse. For some reason I distinctly remember feeling his warm fingers touching my rapidly cooling skin. Then I felt light, as if I was being lifted up, and even consciousness was too energy consuming for my vessel to maintain.
And then there was nothing.
I had a fraction of a second to make peace with the world, or with myself, but I did neither. I just knew that there was no plan B. Tarakan Central Command was not going to deploy an emergency extraction team. No one was coming to save me. This was final. This was Game Over. And something in me was not sorry about it. This world, the little I had seen of it, was awful, and a part of me was glad to leave it. And besides, I deserved it. For all the things I had done and caused, a clean death was actually the easy way out.
Death came to me, and I let go.
But there was another part of me which I could not control, the one instilled in any Tarakan special ops vessel, including the one that my dwindling consciousness was currently occupying. As I embraced death, that part did its best to survive.
All Tarakan noncombat special ops vessels were identical to biological bodies in every aspect except for a few needed modifications. One of them was the emergency survival mode, the ESM, which dumped adrenaline into the bloodstream at thirty times the rate a normal human being could handle. The other exception was the Seed, a microorganism planted deep in the centre of the brain, whose sole function was to protect the fabric of consciousness for as long as possible. The Seed lay dormant, undetected unless you knew what it was and where to look for it, but once the vessel received damage that was perceived as lethal, the Seed came to life and all energy was channelled towards the preservation of the Seed instead of being wasted on trying to save what was already beyond saving. The Seed could not survive for long, but it was far longer than what a biological body could endure, enough to give a window of opportunity for an extraction team to retrieve it from the vessel’s skull and bring it to a laboratory where the consciousness of the agent, as well as information about the events leading to the vessel’s demise, could be reconstructed. In short, Sergiu should have blown my brains out, but he didn’t know about the Seed—almost no one did outside the inner circle of Tarakan Central Command.
Pain.
This time the vessel was too weak to dampen it, and as nerves flared back to life, the sensation was like I was on fire. I came out of my subconscious and back into the world screaming at the top of my lungs, fighting against the heavy weight that was pinning my chest down. I was still pain blind and disoriented as I struggled to throw the weight off my chest. Suddenly the weight was lifted and I could breathe.
I blinked, saw a bright light which then faded.
Yellow sky. I was lying on sand.
The burning pain subsided, but the ache in my chest was constant.
I heard the sound of familiar beeping, raised my head and saw it was emanating from an emergency cell regenerator whose thick needle was stuck deep into my vessel’s chest. Slowly I brought my hand and grasped the shaft. My fingers did not possess full sensation but I managed to grasp the cell regenerator, press the eject button, and yank it out of my chest on the second try. There was still just enough power in it to seal the hole in my skin as the large needle was pulled out. My head and arms flopped back to the sand. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and stay still, but I knew I had to move soon. I was not alone.
After a while I rolled to the side and saw a soldier’s decapitated body lying a few paces away from me. Blood was just beginning to congeal on the sand around a familiar-looking medibag. When I moved my head again, I saw a second body lying a little farther away, next to an upturned hoverbike. Squatting next to it, waiting patiently, was the Lizard.
I don’t remember how I got up into a sitting position. It could have been that the Lizard helped me; he was certainly squatting close enough for me to smell the stench of blood dripping from his claws. I stretched my arm and managed to pull the medibag towards me, rummaged through it and swallowed, smeared, and stuck on my skin every pill, salve, and rejuvenation pad that was in there while trying to put my thoughts in order. I was still blanked out of any useful thoughts, but I realised I needed to physically move if for no o
ther reason than to accelerate the vessel’s healing process and avoid fainting in the desert.
I slowly got up and, barely staying on my feet, limped to the power rifle, squatted next to it, then lifted it from the sand and checked the clip. It was full. All I wanted to do right then was to curl up in a ball and close my eyes. Instead, I looked up and saw we were almost under the tracks of the air train. The station was a few hundred paces away plus a short climb up. Only when I turned around and examined the battle scene did I realise the Lizard had hit the soldiers like the wrath of God. What made him do it or how it knew to use the cell accelerator was beyond me, but I had a strong suspicion it had something to do with Emilija. He watched me with quiet interest as I picked up the helmet and shook the severed head out of it. Most of the blood and gore was on the outside. The combat armour was harder to retrieve, but I had two bodies, so I could mix and match until I was fully clad. I used the sand to wipe away the most visible bloodstains, and I was sure that with the battle helmet on I could pass as a soldier to the casual observer.
Now what?
I looked back at the Lizard. “You saved my life,” I said, grimacing at the pain my short speech was causing. “I guess a thank-you is in order.”
He tilted his head sideways as if considering my words, or perhaps he was graciously accepting my thanks.
Now what?
The old world was dead, or at least close enough to it. I’d been betrayed by the very same people who brought me back from the dark void. I should have felt anger, but I was actually relieved. I owed no allegiance to anyone anymore. In a way, I was free. Did it really matter what caused the war? How would that change anything, and why should I care anymore which side would eventually win?
Now what?
With the exception of a hulking beast, I was dead to everyone. I could just walk away and live the rest of my short life in relative peace. I would be the pawn who managed to escape the game board for once. Or . . . I could walk back into the air train station, find out the whole story, and try and help set things right. Not for the sake of Tarakan, not for humanity, but for myself.
Choose wisely, even after death. God damn it, did that Nakamura oracle really know this was going to happen?
I looked back at the Lizard. Would he let me walk away? Would I let myself?
I was still unsure what I wanted to do as I turned the hoverbike, mounted it, and began driving towards the air train station.
Chapter 70
Twinkle Eyes
They were prudent enough not to put us in a normal cell. Instead, each of us was tied to an uncomfortably hard bed, something between a field med bed and a stretcher. We were then leaned to a near-standing position against the three walls of the room, and our beds were chained to the wall. Power cables stretching from the centre of the cell to each of our neck braces kept all of us immobilised from the neck down. With only a single light in the room, casting shadows everywhere, the only thing missing was a proper torture rack. And somehow, I was sure it was nearby, just waiting for the moment when Emilija realised what she’d signed up for.
Then we were left alone for hours, interrupted only by the periodic checkup of our bored cell guards. One of them would step in to check our bindings while the other covered him with a power rifle from behind the locked gate. Galinak was placed against the wall in front of me and I spent a large chunk of my time watching his face contort with effort in mesmerizingly different ways as he tried to move, until he finally gave up.
“No use,” he conceded. “We’re done and rusted.”
“You know,” I said, “they may have made you into a goddamned killing machine, but you ain’t so handsome.”
It brought out a chuckle from the old warrior, and even a smile from Vincha, which really was what I was aiming for.
“I have a question for you, Vincha.” I tried to carry on the momentum of the conversation.
“You always have a question, Twinkle Eyes. You seem to never run out of them.”
“Or run out of enemies trying to kill us,” Galinak remarked. “You definitely keep my skills from rusting.”
“Nevertheless, since we are all a bit tied up at the moment—” I waited for a chuckle, which never materialised “—I thought I might use the time to figure things out.”
Vincha rolled her eyes. “You make me wish they’d get on with the torturing bit. Go on, then. Ask.”
It occurred to me then that Vincha was in a strange situation, where being tortured meant her daughter was resisting the procedure. For her, torture would definitely have a silver lining. I tried to push that thought out of my head. I wanted to keep Vincha talking and not thinking about Emilija, or our own fate for that matter.
“When you uploaded us in the City Within the Mountain, how did it feel when you channelled us through your head?”
“That is your question?” Vincha’s voice was full of disbelief.
“Yes. I always meant to ask, but with all the fighting and the shooting and being suspended upside down half a mile in the air while driving at breakneck speed, I never got the chance.”
“You’re strange, Twinkle Eyes. I mean disturbingly strange.”
“Yeah,” Galinak agreed. “He’s like an annoying little weird pet you can never bring yourself to get rid of.”
“Or a skin rash.”
“More of an itch, really, the kind you can’t really reach, but inside your brain.”
I ignored them both and pressed on. “Think about it. Our full consciousness passed through your head and onto another location while our bodies were being torn to pieces.”
“Bukra’s balls, that’s a jolly thought,” Galinak muttered. “Especially since any moment now our current and only bodies will be cut up to piec—”
“I mean it’s interesting, that’s all.” I raised my voice.
“Well,” Vincha said slowly, “it’s hard to explain to someone who is not a CommTroll. Your entire being was reduced to a series of signals, and they weren’t pretty ones. They had”—she concentrated—“a strong resonance to them, that’s the right word for it. I wouldn’t have been able to do it with any other gear, and even with the Tarakan augs it isn’t an experience I want to go through ever again. You could say it felt as if a ghost was passing through me. Left me with a big, rusting headache for days.” Vincha’s lips twitched at me in a tiny smile as she added, “And an unexplained desire to ask silly questions in awkward moments.”
“Oooh, she’s got you now, Twinkle Eyes.” Galinak chuckled in the shadows.
It was a crazy moment. All three of us, bound and about to be murdered, having a joke and laughing it off.
“Got any more of those nourishment pills you’ve been hiding inside your belt, Twinkle Eyes?” Galinak winked at me. “I think I am finally getting hungry.”
“I could use a drink myself,” I answered, trying to hide my blush, but it was also true. My mouth was dry. I wondered if they would bother to feed us before we were tortured and killed.
There was a bout of awkward silence which Galinak finally interrupted. “I am sorry, Vinch.” His tone was uncharacteristically soft. “For failing you.”
I turned my head to her. She was already done silently crying to herself and was now resigned to the awful truth. “Galinak,” she answered, not looking at him, “perhaps this is the wrong time to say it, but I simply hate that nickname you are trying to give me.”
“Fair enough.” Galinak rolled his eyes at me, then added, “V?”
“Not even close.” Vincha shook her head lightly. “And if it makes you feel any better, my plan was to free my girl, then shoot you both in the knees and make for the exit.”
“Shoot us in the knees instead of our heads?” Galinak smiled broadly. “Aww, now that’s love, V.”
“You’re both idiots for trying to raise my spirits,” Vincha said, but her eyes shone in the gloom.
I quickly changed the subject. “What was this thing with the woman?” I asked. “I mean, the way they were
talking, she seemed to be the brains behind capturing us.”
“You actually listened to their conversation?” Galinak said. “I was just trying to spit the sand out of my mouth.”
“Whoever she was. She was shot dead,” Vincha interrupted. “I heard the soldiers talking. They threw her body into the Broken Sands. Guess it was a sort of a Salvationist burial.”
A sudden loud explosion shook our cell, and the weak lights in the room winked off.
My eyes adjusted immediately to the darkness. I heard the cell guard exclaim, “What’s going on?” and the other one answered, “The generator probably blew up again.”
“Galinak,” I whispered softly.
“Yes, Twinkle Eyes?”
“If the generator is blown, that means the power to our neck braces is gone. I can feel my legs.”
“Good thinking.” Galinak grunted with effort and broke an arm free, tearing part of the bindings in the process.
“Try to be quiet,” I whispered. “The guards still have weapons.”
“Get that rusting metal off my head,” Vincha whispered from her side of the room.
And suddenly the world outside erupted with sounds of shooting and several bloodcurdling screams.
“Balls to that.” Galinak tore through the rest of his bindings.
“That’s not the bloody generator,” one of the guards shouted. I heard his boots running and doors slamming.
“Can you see anything?” Vincha shouted at me as the sound of battle increased. Galinak was at my side, breaking me free.
I concentrated on the nearest wall. “No, it’s too far away and there are too many walls for me to see, but I think it might be the cavalry.”
“No one knows we’re here.” Galinak was moving to Vincha when we heard the door at the end of the corridor opening again. Through the closer wall I saw the two guards enter the corridor. One of them ran towards our cell while the other one kept shooting at someone outside. There was a sudden blurry movement, and that guard was lifted off his feet and slammed so hard against the wall, his broken body created a groove in the stone and stayed upright. After a few seconds, he crashed to the floor.
