Innocence Lost

by O. J. Lowe

  Bryce on the other hand had lost his shit, pointing excitedly and going off on a stream of slurred mumbo-jumbo that probably meant more to the scientists amongst them than it did to him. Wilsin didn’t care about the science. He was here as protection.

  Nmecha shook his head. “It’s not good to have regrets in life. For better or worse, we all make choices and it’s best to live with them while you can. Whatever we do, it changes us, grants us new experiences. We can learn from that, it’s never wasted.” He smiled at him. “Why a spirit caller like you came along, that’s the mystery here. There’s no glory in what they’re going to do here, no prize at the end of the game.”

  “Maybe I was curious,” Wilsin said, baring his teeth in a grin. “Maybe I made a choice to get a new experience.”

  “Very funny, Mister Wilsin.” For the first time, Nmecha didn’t look amused. “I ain’t never seen a spirit caller carry a blaster like that either. I saw you shoot that endroid. Didn’t hesitate. It’s not a weapon for a novice, your average novice might think the blaster looks cool, but it’d break their wrist the first time they pulled the trigger. Bust all the bones up there with one discharge. I’ve seen it before, you know. You got more than a rudimentary knowledge of blasters.”

  “Maybe I’m a weekend enthusiast,” Wilsin said. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, made the conscious effort to try and divert it. Given it had reached this point, he doubted Nmecha would be fooled, but he had to try. Keep talking until you talk your way out of it. That little nugget had been sound advice he’d once been given, at least he’d thought so at the time. Unfortunately, the more you talked, the more chance you had of tripping over the lies.

  “And maybe I’m just your average scalpel jockey.”

  “I’ve never heard that term before,” Wilsin said. “It sounds derogatory.”

  “And I ain’t never heard of no weekend enthusiast carrying a blaster like that neither so it might sound derogatory when I accuse you of talking a whorl of shit.”

  “What exactly do you think I am, Nordin?”

  “More than meets the eye, perhaps,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “I’d say maybe you’re not just a spirit caller, but you never know who be listening, even out here and this place ain’t healthy for people like that at this time. Think you can appreciate that.”

  Wilsin could and he did. The pallor of suspicion ran deep, and he didn’t need it cast on him at this time.

  “I think we’re all more than we seem,” he said. “And some of us do have secrets. Some secrets are greater than others though, I think you understand that.”

  “I reckon I do.” Nmecha clapped him on the arm. “Good talk. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  Wilsin stood up, moved away from the doctor, towards the edge of the boat. The clearing loomed ahead, he fixed his gaze on it…

  Huh!

  He blinked, focused on the gap between the trees. He’d only glanced fleetingly at it, suddenly sure he’d seen something there, something man-shaped but not a man. He continued to stare, curious but nothing came to sight. Maybe he’d imagined it. Maybe. He would’ve appreciated longer, yet the boat continued, and the clearing was lost to sight. He rubbed his eyes, mopped the sweat out of them. He’d like to think that he was seeing things. That thing had stood like a man, but it didn’t look like no man he’d ever seen. Green-skinned, covered in protrusions, naked otherwise.

  Seeing things. Had to be. He glanced back to the passengers of the boat, he didn’t know much about boats and little about this one really, other than it was big enough for them to all be on deck and not all up in each other’s space. That was a relief. Nothing worse than working while someone was all up over your shoulder and able to see what you were doing. It was okay for them. All the academics had stuff to do, journals and reports to fill out, samples to analyse. They were all busy in their own little worlds, Brendan pouring over a data pad. Fazarn and Aubemaya in conversation as they compared notes, Suchiga and Bryce studying plant samples they’d acquired in previous days. Wilsin watched them examining the beakers. One of them had poured a purple solution into each container, both watching the way that the plants reacted. Within seconds, tiny little flowers had started to spring to life, cracking open the stems in the jar, forcing their way out into the world, hungrily ingesting the purple stuff. Whatever it was, he didn’t know, but they liked it. Not quite as much however as Suchiga and Bryce, they both looked like they were about to lose their shit over the revelation.

  He was no botanist, but he had to admit it was something impressive to see life created where it shouldn’t be able to thrive. That was like the first basic rule of plant-life, once it was cut out of its natural environment, it should start the slow process of death. This was doing the exact opposite. He wasn’t an expert and he recognised it immediately. Divines alone knew what Bryce and Suchiga would make of it.

  He stepped over to the front of the boat, dropped down next to Reeves. Maybe he should have come up with something to do during the long hours on the boat between their excursions to the shoreline. He should have followed Perrit’s example, written a book about their journey. Too late to start now, he could have recalled every event in crystal clarity at the time of writing, but now those early days felt hazy. His own contribution felt like it had been solely to shoot that damn endroid. Even then, they could have done without it. The owner of that yard had freaked out, almost shot back. Way to go Wilsin, Brendan had said. You just nearly caused an international incident. What part of keeping a low profile don’t you understand?

  Reeves probably understood where he was coming from. Brendan had fought to get a Vedo on the expedition with them, that told Wilsin that he’d expected trouble and though it hadn’t been apparent so far, it didn’t mean it wasn’t around the corner. He could remember the stories he’d heard about this place, roughly translated from what the scrap man had said. People came in here and didn’t come out. He’d already made a point of keeping his T6 on him when they went ashore, if that apparition was anything to go by, he might start taking a blaster rifle with him. Reeves was posing as one of Brendan’s students, the ruse had already started to fall away. He’d made best efforts but anyone with even a little intelligence could see the lie, although they’d kept quiet. Maybe he was being overtly critical because he knew the truth and he could see through the efforts the Vedo was making. Whatever other qualities Reeves might have, subterfuge wasn’t one of them. He didn’t look like a student. He didn’t look like anything, quiet, unassuming and polite. When he’d used the Kjarn to throw those ants off Ballard Brown, that should have been a clue for the rest of the expedition as to his true nature, yet even that was up for debate. Wilsin didn’t know how much they’d seen in that moment, and nobody really wanted to talk about that night, a curious juxtaposition between human curiosity and respect for the dead.

  “Something bothering you, David?” Reeves asked without opening his eyes. “You feel troubled.”

  “Just thought I saw something,” Wilsin said, rubbing the back of his head, scratching at sweat-soaked hair with his nails. He’d been bitten somewhere there, and it was starting to aggravate him, little bastard mosquito. Even the little bloodsuckers seemed to want to avoid this place, which was about the worst omen he could think of. “Out there in the clearing a while back. Unsettling. Maybe I was seeing things.” I hope, he wanted to add. “Only for a moment and then it was gone.”

  “It is an unfashionably hot day,” Reeves said. This from a man who didn’t have a single drop of sweat on him, he looked like he’d spent his day sat in the shade sipping iced water in a tall glass through a straw. If it hadn’t been inappropriate, Wilsin would have touched him just to check that he wasn’t imagining things. He was putting it down to Vedo powers. “The heat does befuddle the mind and play tricks with your eyes.”

  “Did you sense anything out there?” he asked. It felt a ridiculous question to ask, yet he’d seen what Reeves could do. Reeves had been one of the Vedo at th
e Quin-C, Wilsin had seen him cut through a dozen Coppinger soldiers on the viewing screen in half as many seconds without so much as flinching. His speed and coordination had been incredible, if he hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t have believed it. Just because something was beyond your comprehension didn’t make it impossible. Impossible was becoming something of a difficult term these days, it didn’t mean what it once did.

  “I sense a lot of things,” Reeves said. “Mainly from this boat. There’s an incredible melting pot of emotions out here. You feel frustrated. You’re not the only one. I feel incredible desire, I feel sadness and pain, sorrow and pity. I feel jealousy and rage, though nothing beyond what you’d expect.” He straightened up, opened his eyes. “It’s not a pleasant thing, David. Being able to sense other people’s emotions.”

  “Anne said that,” Wilsin said. He’d never believed the stories about Anne Sullivan and what she’d been able to do. Half of Unisco had believed her, half had thought she was deluded and in the current climate, that half had felt chastened by revelations. “I always thought she was…”

  “It is only natural to disbelieve what you cannot understand,” Reeves said. “It makes things easier, for one thing. An easy lie is always better to swallow than a hard truth.”

  “Some people like the truth though.”

  “Those are usually the people who don’t know what the truth means and wouldn’t choose it if they knew the consequences,” Reeves smiled. “I know what you’re thinking. Wisdom from a man younger than yourself.”

  “Not that much younger,” Wilsin said. “And I’ve always been under the impression that although wisdom comes with age, some people pick it up a lot faster than others.”

  Reeves laughed at that. “Well that’s more or less true, I’ll give you that. Attitude takes you a long way. I imagine you didn’t become what you are overnight and neither did I. Training. Knowledge. Education. They’re all what you need to get ahead. And wisdom earned is always at a price. You won’t win a debate with me on the subject.”

  “I don’t know how it did turn into a debate,” Wilsin smiled. “So, you didn’t sense anything out there in the trees?”

  “I sense something,” Reeves said. “There is some form of life out there. Whatever it is, it’s not life like anything we know.”

  “You know, I came over hoping you’d make me feel better,” Wilsin said, half-joking. “You’ve not exactly reassured me.”

  “Well I can’t help you then. Reassurance is not something you should ever come to a Vedo for. We deal in truths, the sort of honesty that you don’t want to hear. Such is the word of Baxter.” Reeves shrugged. “We do apologies though. Sorry.”

  They left the boat shortly after for their nightly meal. Cooking on board the boat wasn’t something any of them were willing to try, Brendan had regaled them with a tale from his youth the first night in which they’d made those very efforts and the whole event had wound up in disaster. Mistakes, he’d said in his deep baritone, are all well and good provided you need never repeat them. A mistake is nature’s way of telling you to not be such a pillock ever again.

  Wilsin had had to smirk at that. It was something he found hard to do, imagining Brendan King as a young man, making a young man’s mistakes. He always got the impression that even when he’d been a child, he’d been serious and studious, his hair that same shade of dirty steel that it was now.

  Either way, young man or ageless child, he’d had a point and they’d not had their evening meal on the boat ever since. Always the process became the same, they’d disembark and tie up for a few hours, stretch their legs while the scientists did their thing. Inevitably it ended up being him and Reeves who made up the fire, two spare parts amidst a well-oiled machine, left searching for a purpose. Between them, it wasn’t as hard as it might have been. Wilsin had used his machete to cut down the best branches he could find, not hard in the conditions. Every bit of moisture felt like it had been sucked from the trees, the bark brittle to his touch. The crack as metal bit into it was satisfying, the crack giving way to the snap and tear as bark shattered under the unbreakable blade. He cut, Reeves carried, taking armfuls of the timber back towards the clearing.

  The first time he’d seen it, he’d inquired as to if Reeves ever considered carrying them back using his powers. The answer had been a resounding shake of the head, Reeves giving him a look as if he were crazy.

  “Not the best use of it though, is it?” he said. The tone in his voice suggested that the notion was genuinely alien to him, that he could no more do it than grow a pair of wings and take to the sky. “A tremendous waste.”

  “You have it. Why not use it?” He wasn’t letting this go, he was determined that an answer was going to come his way, no matter how hard it might be.

  “Master Baxter taught us all that to use the power with frivolity is to betray the nature of it. We do not control the power, it resides in all of us, we are partners above all else. To use the primordial forces for selfish gain, nay, for menial tasks we are capable of carrying out ourselves will do us more harm than good.” He cleared his throat, threw the last few twigs down onto the fire, stretched out his arms. “It never does too much to become reliant on power either. Rely on yourself first, what you might be able to do second. Because the self is always the first port of ingenuity.”

  Wilsin smirked. He’d heard that before, some variant of it. “That’s a Unisco saying, he got it from us back in the day.”

  “Yes, I forget about Master Baxter’s colourful history,” Reeves said. “Always find it hard to believe that he managed to balance three different lives.”

  “He’s a special man,” Wilsin said, surprised to find that he meant it. “He’s a legend at Unisco. Had a knack of surviving, although given what we know now about him, it’s hardly surprising.”

  “For all his powers, he tried to teach us self-reliance. Just because something is easy, doesn’t make it right.” Reeves held out his hand in front of him, Wilsin saw the glow emanating from his palms, moved to shield his eyes. The twin fireballs that fell from his skin hit the twigs and the branches, tore into them with hungry determination. Within seconds, the flames were flickering merrily, a beacon amidst the dropping darkness. Wilsin looked across at the Vedo, not sure whether to call him out on what had just happened. Apparently, he didn’t like criticism.

  “But he did always knock into us that time is something we don’t always have,” Reeves said, inclining his head towards the flames. “And that if we need to do something quick, then it is worth doing. Easier than scrabbling up a fire, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I would,” Wilsin said. “I would say that.”

  Their evening meal hadn’t been spectacular, the food supplies weren’t close to being exhausted but most of the tastiest morsels had already been snapped up. Even with Ballard Brown’s portion no longer needed, their supplies weren’t limitless. Sooner or later they would run out. Wilsin wondered where the next meal would come from when they reached that point. He didn’t want to dwell on it, hadn’t seen much edible within these trees, not unless they fancied trying to lure more of those ants out into the open and they didn’t look the tastiest things he’d ever tried to force down his throat. It might come down to it. Better discomfort than starvation. He’d seen the latter and it wasn’t pretty. Seeing the human body waste away because it wasn’t getting enough of what it needed, emaciation in process, was a sobering thought.

  Although the meat they’d cooked over the fire had long lost any sort of identity, he’d found it well worth the wait. Wilsin hadn’t realised how hungry he was going into the meal, his stomach giving little sounds of appreciation at the burnt offerings he’d found himself tucking into. The taste was smoky, a little burned, the spices scorched away by the heat of the fire leaving only a lingering essence in the back of the mouth. The spices kept the flies away, kept it preserved, not the worst taste imaginable but he couldn’t imagine finding anything like it outside of Vazara. Their conditions left them
resourceful, more than most would be willing to admit. Not everyone could survive in a place like this, natural selection meant not everyone did. Only the strong and the smart rose to the top, the weak and the stupid died.

  He could see why people fell in love with the kingdom. There was a sense of raw beauty about it, even here sweating himself to death in a jungle which shouldn’t even exist by any law of nature or logic. A jungle claimed to have sprung from the will of a madwoman. Even amidst what should have been ugly, something pure felt like it was on the verge of slipping through the cracks.

  Halfway through the meal, Brendan cleared his throat. “Feels like we do this every night, just sit here and eat in silence like strangers,” he said. “Yet are we not comrades in an expedition to change the future and bring knowledge to those who have none? What we do here could have consequences for the kingdoms, it is only perhaps for the best that we do not consider each other strangers. Our number has been reduced, Divines care for Professor Brown’s soul and I think now perhaps we consider the danger in our undertaking more than ever. We might come to rely on each other to survive.”

  Nobody immediately said anything. Wilsin continued to chew on his spiced meat, mulled over what his boss had just said. He wasn’t proffering anything.

  “Come on now,” he said. “From each of you, one story. We talk over this meal. No backing out. No lies. Just the truth.” Did Brendan’s eyes dwell on him for a moment, Wilsin wondered. Maybe his way of warning him that the truth didn’t necessarily mean the truth as it was. A casual deception. “I’ll go first, if you like.”

  Nobody moved to stop him as Brendan cleared his throat.

  Chapter Nineteen. Campfire Tales.

  “Attack can come at any time. Always be aware of your surroundings, especially when alone in enemy territory. Those who know the environment ultimately don’t get caught with their pants down. And we all know there’s little more embarrassing than being caught unawares by those who want to kill you. At least you won’t live with the shame, but you’ll sully Unisco’s name with your piss-poor performance and I won’t have that.”