Sun

by J. C. Andrijeski

  The trackers had found a lot already, however.

  They discovered pools of fresh water. They even found an underground river on one of the lower levels, complete with cave fish and amphibians. Ancient ladders, most of them made of foot and hand-holds carved in the rock, provided a means of transitioning between most levels, but they’d found sloped, winding tunnels that led to new segments, as well.

  They’d also found an elaborate system of ventilation shafts, along with a number of tunnels that provided alternate ways in and out of the complex. Some of those led up into the formation of Ship Rock itself. Another led to the top of the nearest plateau. One ended roughly two miles north of where they were now. Another was still being mapped by one of their exploration teams and appeared to be even longer.

  Given what was coming for them on those screens, they’d likely need every one of those tunnels at some point, but not for escape. Jon already knew there would be no escape, not from this––not across the desert, at least.

  The door under Ship Rock might be the only one left the Dreng didn’t control with one of their living machines. They needed it.

  Anyway, running wouldn’t save them, not if Kali’s visions were true.

  Blinking to clear his mind of images, Jon stared back at the virtual screen.

  “What the fuck are we going to do?” he muttered. “We can’t fight that many of them. Not with the equipment they’ve got. Not when they’ve got us outnumbered in telekinetics. We’re dead if they hit us with all that, no matter how clever we try to be.”

  Balidor’s mouth pressed into a hard line.

  He didn’t look up from the moving images.

  “Where is the human president?” He glanced at Wreg. “Can we get her up here? Now that we know what we are dealing with, we should discuss options with her. Assuming she still has enough people at NORAD or at Langley, we might be able to activate some of the silos long-distance. We could at least open them up enough for the Mythers to pick it up on satellite. It might give them pause. Temporarily, at least.”

  Jon’s hands clenched at his sides.

  He fought to remain silent, but couldn’t quite make himself do it.

  “Seriously? You’re going to nuke them? Wasn’t threatening to nuke them enough?” He looked between Balidor and Wreg, frowning at his mate. “That’s what he means, right? He’s talking about actually hitting one of those exposed Shadow cities with American nukes. Or did you mean the Myther army itself? Are we considering that now? Because the radiation will reach us down here. Also, they’ll retaliate. You know they will.”

  Balidor gave him a flat look. “I’d like to know our options, young brother.”

  “I thought Brooks had the remaining nukes aimed at Shadow cities already,” Jon said, frowning. “Didn’t she say they programmed them remotely?”

  Balidor’s expression didn’t move. “I’d like to know the full range of our options, young brother,” he said, his voice as unchanging as his face.

  “He’s right.” Wreg gave Jon a swift, apologetic look, then looked to Jax, who stood near the door. “Find Brooks. Tell her we need her up here.”

  Jax nodded, once, saluting before he turned and half-jogged for the cave door.

  Biting his lip, Jon stared at Wreg. He knew he was having a fear reaction, that the idea of a nuclear war wiping all of them off the face of the planet in a matter of hours scared the hell out of him. Also, there were a lot of people in those Shadow cities.

  Not all of them were evil.

  Not all of them deserved to die under a nuclear cloud.

  Part of him still hoped if Allie managed to get one door open, she’d manage to get all the doors open. If that happened, some of those people would hopefully get out, too.

  Jon knew he wasn’t the only one thinking along those lines. He’d heard Revik talking about hacking the Shadow city communications systems and sending out messages on all of the black feeds, seer and human, telling them to head for the doors in the event Allie got them open.

  Wreg held his gaze, seeming to feel some of his thoughts. His deep black eyes held both determination and resignation.

  Wreg knew war better than anyone Jon had ever met in his life.

  He knew bad odds.

  He knew impossible or “prayer” odds, too.

  Wreg wouldn’t be entertaining the idea of using nukes if he didn’t think they might need it.

  Thinking about that, about how maybe Wreg and Balidor were right to bring Brooks back into this, to look for ways to hold off the Mythers to buy Allie time, Jon swallowed.

  He fought to view it logically.

  He tried not to think about what Revik said in that box canyon, about the world ending, about the possibility of a hell of a lot of them dying before this was over, about this being the end of the world foretold by every religion from the beginning of time.

  Of course, Jon had known people would die. Still, it was hard to think about it rationally. This wasn’t like any kind of fight he’d been in before.

  There was no tomorrow after this. There was no reason to hold back.

  There was no reason to not play any card they might still hold.

  This was the last fight, the final war.

  In the end, it was the only one that really mattered.

  “We don’t have to beat them,” Balidor said, breaking into his thoughts.

  When Jon looked up, Balidor met his gaze levelly, as if trying to steady him with his eyes alone. Shifting that stare to the room as a whole, the Adhipan leader looked around at the pale swath of faces watching them. They stood there, silent, watching the images on the virtual screen, listening to them talk about how soon the army would be here, listening to Jon argue with them about waging global thermonuclear war.

  Balidor raised his voice.

  “Listen to me, everyone. You heard the Sword. We don’t have to beat them. We just need to hold them off. We need to delay them long enough for the Bridge to open the door. For now, that means distracting them, confusing them, angering them, holding them off. Hurting them, if we can.” Again, he met Jon’s gaze. “…But we don’t have to beat them. This is about buying time, and keeping as many of us alive as we can.”

  Jon swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw as he absorbed Balidor’s words.

  He found himself really hearing him that time.

  More than that, he found himself understanding him, and on more than one level.

  Like Revik, Balidor thought a lot of them would die in this fight.

  Worse, Jon knew the Adhipan leader was probably right.

  Jon knew most of their team still held out hope Kali’s vision was wrong. He knew most of them––human and seer––hoped this would be just one more battle in a long line of fights they’d had with the Dreng.

  They hoped Allie wouldn’t need to open the door.

  They hoped they wouldn’t have to leave Earth.

  The idea of abandoning the only home any of them had ever known, only to end up gods knew where, in gods knew what historical period, what dimension… what universe… wasn’t just abstract. It was almost inconceivable.

  Moreover, it didn’t feel like victory.

  It felt like death.

  Jon couldn’t wrap his head around it, no matter how many times he tried.

  He glanced at Cass, who stood about ten steps away from their small group.

  She stood near one of the stone pillars, arms crossed, looking awkward and like she’d rather be anywhere but here. Even so, he could see her staring at the virtual screens along with the rest of them. He couldn’t really tell how she was reacting to any of it.

  She was probably keeping her distance because of him. She’d probably be standing with Balidor over the monitor, if Jon wasn’t there.

  The thought brought a flush of annoyance.

  The idea that he was the scary one, after everything she did, everything that happened, was enough to make him want to walk over and hit her, maybe yell in her face. After he tried to sa
ve her life and she mocked him for it, after she used him as a fucking pawn to get at his own sister, after she nearly killed all of them, now he was the asshole?

  Fuck her. He hoped she rotted down in these caves.

  When he turned away from her, scowling, he caught a stare from Balidor.

  Doing a double-take when he saw a frown touch the Adhipan leader’s lips, Jon frowned back at him openly.

  Before he could say anything, Balidor turned away, aiming his gaze at Jorag. The big seer stood by a different pillar, watching Cass with a frown of his own.

  Balidor motioned to him with one hand.

  “Go find out what’s taking so long,” he said. “We need the Bridge and Sword up here now. Let us know if you need additional help getting them out of there.”

  After a bare hesitation, Jorag nodded, giving Cass another brief glance before he turned to leave the room. Jon watched him walk back towards the entrance to the cave, noticing the faint limp still visible in the seer’s long stride. Jorag still wasn’t himself after what Chandre did. Most of the members of their team still weren’t really themselves.

  Jax. Declan. Chinja. Yumi. Stanley. Illeg.

  All of them were off, to lesser and greater degrees.

  “I am going too,” Atwar said, squeezing Balidor’s shoulder briefly. “I will be back after I eat and change clothes. I’ll bring Kalashi and others with me. Hopefully the Bridge and Sword will be back with us by then.”

  Balidor gave him a smile and a nod, watching the tall seer leave.

  Jon watched him leave, too. The frown remained etched on his face when he looked back at Balidor and Wreg.

  “How long have they been in there?” he said, focusing on Wreg. “Allie and Revik. It’s been since we got here, right?” Grunting, he shoved his hands in his pockets, clicking under his breath. “Will they be in any kind of shape to even help us at this point? Assuming anyone can pry them out of that cave without getting their necks broken?”

  There was a silence while Wreg and Balidor exchanged looks.

  Then Wreg looked at Jon.

  “It’s been four days, little brother… well, almost five,” the Chinese seer amended, checking the timepiece in his headset. “As for your other question, I guess we’ll have to gauge that for ourselves. Assuming Jorag can coax them out.”

  Smiling in wry amusement as he thought, Wreg added,

  “Did I tell you I spoke to one of the humans Jorag left to guard the door? Poor cousin… he went on and on about waking dreams he had the whole time he stood guard duty. He thought it was some kind of magic. Between whatever the Bridge and Sword were doing in there, and the Barrier door, the jurekil’a nor’ika ilyo looked like he’d been hit in the head with a mallet.”

  Wreg gave Jon an apologetic shrug.

  “So yes, I would expect your sister to be more loopy than usual. Her mate is likely to be his usual, highly-unpredictable self, as well.”

  Balidor gave him an annoyed look.

  Wreg lifted an eyebrow and Balidor averted his gaze, clicking under his breath.

  “You disagree, brother?” Wreg said politely.

  “No,” Balidor muttered, still sounding annoyed as he gripped the edge of the console. “No, I don’t disagree. I don’t fully understand why you’re so at ease with our two leaders deciding to go off the deep end at such a critical time, however.”

  His gray eyes hardened when he turned, looking between Jon and Wreg. He kept his voice low, probably for the others, but that harder edge grew more pronounced.

  “Why the fuck they did this now is entirely beyond me. Mak rik’ali ilyos yi gaos di’lalente… you’d think their priorities might be a little more aligned with our current need for them?”

  Wreg grunted a laugh. “Our current need for them?”

  Balidor glared back at the Chinese seer.

  “This nightmare with the Mythers is likely why the two of them incarnated in the first place.” Still scowling, he gestured expansively with a hand. “So yeah, I’d say our current need for them in the sense of the possible extinction of both races should probably take priority over their ongoing and never-fucking-ending personal issues.”

  From where she stood, Cass snorted a laugh.

  Jon was weirdly tempted to laugh too.

  For one thing, it was strange to hear Balidor swear so much.

  His smile faded when it hit him where Balidor might have acquired his new language quirks. He glanced at Cass, frowning as his seer’s sight picked up the light connection between her and the Adhipan leader.

  Ignoring all of that, Wreg gave Balidor a flat look.

  “I don’t know,” the big seer said, frowning down at the virtual screen. “Seems to me the Bridge and Sword’s priorities are right on the money. For a change.”

  Thinking about that, Jon grunted.

  He honestly wasn’t sure which of them he agreed with more.

  Deciding it didn’t matter, he shook his head.

  “Why do you think it took them so long to get here?” He looked at Balidor, maybe in part to distract him from arguing with Wreg. “The Mythers, I mean. When I talked to Allie, she seemed to think she and Revik would have a few hours together. Not most of a week.”

  Balidor shrugged with the same hand, his expression still annoyed.

  “Clearly, they wanted to make an impression.” He motioned towards the screen. “Perhaps they did not see any need to hurry, since they already knew where we were.”

  “…Or it took them this long to find us,” Wreg muttered.

  At Balidor’s skeptical look, Wreg mirrored his gesture at the three-dimensional projections, pointing at the image of Ship Rock, which took up most of a secondary screen.

  “I mean under the rock,” he clarified.

  “I know what you meant,” Balidor said, his expression unchanging.

  “I know what you mean, too,” Wreg warned. “Don’t get paranoid, brother. We’ve had a collar on Chandre since before we brought her down here.”

  “She’s not my only concern,” Balidor muttered.

  Jon looked between them, frowning. “Who’s your other concern?”

  “Brother Balidor is paranoid, as always.” Wreg grunted, clapping a hand affectionately on Balidor’s back and waving his free hand vaguely. “He suspects everyone. Meanwhile, the biggest security risk we’ve got, he won’t let us get a collar anywhere near.”

  He swiveled his eyes to the right, giving Cass a meaningful stare.

  Balidor gave him a warning look.

  “If she’s the issue, we’ve got much bigger problems,” he said.

  “Agreed,” Wreg said, without missing a beat. “The biggest one being our head of infiltration is a fucking moron. At least when it comes to his dick.”

  Cass let out an annoyed sigh, unfolding her arms.

  At that, Jon couldn’t help but turn on her.

  “Really?” he said, giving her a disbelieving look. “You’re going to play persecuted for that? Now? After what you did?”

  “Jon, this isn’t a productive use of our time,” Balidor began.

  Jon turned on him. “Yeah. You fucking lied to us and hid it from us when we could have actually discussed you bringing that psychopath back on our team––”

  “Lock me up, then,” Cass snapped from where she stood. “Jesus, Jon. As if I couldn’t have killed all of you by now, if I’d wanted.” She waved towards the cave’s entrance. “Especially with Revik and Allie off having their fuck-a-thon or whatever.”

  Jon gave Balidor a hard look. “Your girlfriend’s not helping make her case.”

  “Bite me,” she snapped. “You’re going to talk to my boyfriend now, instead of me?” Cass tossed back her long black hair, muttering, “At least Allie had the balls to tell me off to my face. Most of you chickenshits won’t even make eye contact. Even you, Jon. It’s not like we didn’t practically grow up together or anything.”

  Jon felt his face flush hot.

  Anger enveloped his light.

&n
bsp; Not anger––fury.

  A blind, unseeing fury rendered him mute for what must have been a full minute. The emotions came up so intensely, all he could do was fight a desire to fucking hurt her. He wanted to punch her in the face, kick her, break her teeth, her nose. He couldn’t think at all for those few seconds as his mind flashed images at him, screaming at him to do it.

  At the same time, memories hit him too––memories of everything she’d put him, Wreg, Revik, Allie, Lily, and just about everyone else in his life through.

  Wreg wrapped an arm around his shoulders, flooding his chest with light.

  Hey, little brother. Calm down. Don’t let her get under your skin.

  Jon let out a choked laugh.

  Wreg only pulsed more warmth, infusing it with love and light, sympathetic anger along with a dismissal of everything about her.

  Forget her. She’s not worth it. And we need you right now, ilyo.

  Jon exhaled a breath… then inhaled one.

  Until he did, he didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing.

  Wreg turned, giving Cass a flat look.

  “Watch your fucking mouth, sister,” he warned. “I don’t give a goddamn who you are, or who you’re currently fucking. Jon’s right. You’ve no right to play victim in this… or in anything related to any of us.”

  “I’m not playing fucking victim––” she began angrily.

  Wreg cut her off, raising his voice.

  “Bullshit! You expect him to treat you like a fucking person? Why in the gods should he? You never even fucking apologized to him. You never apologized to me, for nearly losing my mate. You’ve never apologized to Nenz, to Alyson… to their families and friends who thought we’d lost them both. You never apologized to seers who lost friends in those sewers in New York. You’ve never apologize to anyone, as far as I can tell––”

  “That’s not true––” Balidor began.

  “You shut the fuck up, brother.” Wreg turned, holding up a finger and giving him an even more warning stare. “I’m not talking to you.” He pointed that finger at Cass.

  “…I’m talking to her. She can defend herself if she wants to. She’s not a goddamned child, who can hide behind the fact that you’ve been a good friend to us. She doesn’t get your status just because you choose to put your dick in her––”