The Rift Coda

by Amy S. Foster

  “You think I was built for accepting any of this?” Ezra asks wide eyed.

  “Of course not, but you’re adaptable in a way that most civilians aren’t. If we told the truth, it would plunge the entire world into turmoil. Governments might even collapse, and we can’t deal with a broken infrastructure on top of everything else. For now, we have to push the status quo, but don’t worry. There will be a time and place to tell the truth and we’ll need you for that, too.”

  “Okay.” Ezra backs down without losing face. “I’ll start working on some models for rolling out the truth.”

  “Great,” I tell him genuinely.

  “Yes, I suppose that is something you will all need to face in the future,” Navaa breaks in. “But right now, today, we have some vital decisions to make. You want to leave for the Akshaj Earth tomorrow?”

  “Delaying at this point would be counterproductive,” Levi says efficiently.

  “This is a tricky thing. But I think it makes sense,” Arif chimes in. “We go in small, we have the advantage of stealth. We go in a large number and we have a show of force and the wherewithal to back it up.”

  “Let’s split the difference, then,” I suggest. “We open a Rift, and keep twenty Citadels in reserve. The four of us go to the compound in the sensuits to get an accurate picture of what it’s like on the ground. If it comes down to a fight, we have a squadron to back us up and we can Rift more in if necessary.”

  “I don’t think I need to tell you all,” Sidra cuts in, “that we absolutely do not want it to come down to a fight. The goal is to isolate a few Akshaji and let them know what’s happened. Show them the Daithi footage we took. They are not being drugged or brainwashed. They believe the altered Roones to be their allies. We need to prove to them that they are not.”

  “Agreed,” I say.

  “Agreed,” Navaa echoes, though there is a small crease between her brows and her ice cap blue eyes look far away. This plan is far from airtight and we all know it.

  We break for the day and eat in the canteen. Faida food is a mixture of beiges and creams dotted with nut browns and muted rusts. But, like everything else on this Earth, while it looks plain, it tastes rich and decadent. The Faida are vegetarians, but each dish is so hearty and delicious, I don’t even miss the meat. Levi and I eat together, our faces glued to our tablets, going over Roonish documents and footage of the Akshaji. Homework. The plan might be for shit, but we’ll both be as prepared as we possibly can. Ezra has disappeared to his room. I know he must be feeling isolated, but I keep reminding myself that this is his choice. He could go home right now if he wanted to and he’s choosing to stay.

  When the meal is over, Levi and I walk together to our rooms. Without saying so much as a single word, I open the door and Levi steps inside. The Blood Lust is gone. We are free to do whatever we want with each other. The two of us alone, in my room—the wanting of him feels stronger than ever. I have had sex only once, so I don’t understand how I can feel so many things at once. There is an aching, not just between my legs, but behind my breastbone. My skin feels flushed, but it’s not just heat, it’s electricity. There is an urgent driving need to have him inside me, but . . . there is also an equally strong urge to send him away. I don’t want to give myself up tonight. I want to belong only to me, just next to him.

  And then, as if reading my mind, Levi says, “I know we can—and God knows, I want to—but tomorrow is a big day.” Levi touches my face and I let the weight of my head fall into his palm. “I’m distracted. I’m not a hundred percent here and, really, I want to be totally present when we do this.”

  I don’t need to say anything. I don’t need to tell him that I get it or that I feel the same. He knows that I’m feeling exactly like he is and it’s a relief. We peel our uniforms off and cuff into shorts and tees. We both climb into the giant bed from opposite sides like an old married couple. Sleeping together has become as natural as breathing to us. I roll over on my side and tuck myself into him. The bed, as big as it is, feels like a rowboat adrift on an ocean full of worries carried by eddies and currents of languages and best guesses. Levi is the steady hand that keeps the boat from spilling. Or maybe that’s me, or both of us. We tangle our limbs together with the smooth white sheets. Levi’s body sings the song of home and I muffle the tune by burrowing deeper into my pillow. We don’t belong here, but there is nowhere else that we should be. At some point, my mind stops spinning and I fall both reluctantly but blissfully dead asleep.

  Chapter 16

  We ride once more into the screaming green mouth of the Multiverse. My body is an arrow, straight and true, and my skin leaps to catch the dark matter molecules, a swarm of bees that buzz around this emerald hive. The Faida keep their chins down and their wings tucked, barreling through like birds of prey.

  When we see the Akshaj Earth, we adjust our angles in a perfectly choreographed dance and walk carefully into the horizon. Immediately, the Faida scramble into position. Some crouch behind the widespread limbs of banyan trees, others take to the branches themselves, balancing between the larger, sturdier sections, hiding in the leaves. Sidra is here, as is Yessenia. Donav has remained behind with a much larger force, ready to deploy if necessary.

  Levi, Navaa, Arif, and I activate our sensuits to stealth while Levi and I send out our drones. We are two miles away from the headquarters here. Far enough to come in unseen, close enough for the reserves to get to us in minutes.

  The air is thick with humidity. Already I can feel a teardrop of sweat sliding down the nape of my neck. We are truly in the wilds here—a jungle. The greens are bright enough to rival a Rift opening, and the foliage is so thick that a normal person would need a machete to navigate it. We don’t have that luxury—we can’t risk leaving such an obvious trail—so we’ll be doing a lot of ducking and jumping. Ordinarily, this is not a big deal. Today, though, we are covered in a silky sheet and though the sun can’t quite make its way down to us directly, the heat is brutal.

  We will all follow Doe’s directions from here. Once again, we can’t see one another, but right now, at least, we don’t need to. We just need to get to the base and get a good look. If we arrive separately, it’s not that big of a deal, we’ll still be invisible and maybe one of us will see something separately that we might have missed while trying to stick together. I take off, leaping over gnarled roots and slick patches of deep mud. I adjust my bearings by quarter turns and little skips and hops. It doesn’t take us too long to arrive, but I am surprisingly put out by the effort. I sneak a drink from my canteen under the sensuit and swig a long full gulp before taking a good look at the Akshaj Compound. Like the Orsalines, this place has the feel of a stone temple. But unlike our fat, hairy Citadel cousins, the Akshaji have built something of beauty. There are gray pagoda-like spires clawing their way out of the massive, many-winged structure like an angry trussed-up wedding cake. Atop each spire is a cone of gold.

  The compound itself is covered in sprawling ivy and flesh-colored roots. The structure is formidable, but even more intimidating are the Akshaj Citadels that surround it. I had seen them, of course, in grainy video feeds, but to witness them in person is something . . . else. Their purple skin is not just bright, but luminescent, as if it was made of violet-colored pearls. Their many arms moving at once is jarring. But what makes them suddenly so intimidating isn’t actually their alienness. It’s how they move.

  Inside two massive rings in front of the compound, the Akshaji are sparring. It looks less like fighting than it does dancing. They are light bending, torsos swerving, backs arching all the way so that their heads touch the ground behind them as they use a pair of hands to steady themselves.

  They are working with a collection of swords and knives and though I have to assume that they are practicing, they make no qualms about slicing deeply into one another. When one gets a good jab in, the others watching roar and clap. Their blood, a deep navy blue color, spatters across the stones around them. I know that as a huma
n Citadel I am both faster and stronger, but I don’t see how it can possibly be true. I feel clumsy. And small.

  There must be at least five hundred of them outside. I can only imagine how many are inside the walls. If we were forced to fight them today, it would take not only our reserves at the Rift site, but probably every single one of the Faida back at the base and even then, it probably wouldn’t be enough.

  “Let’s find each other and walk down there,” Navaa whispers in my earpiece. “Perhaps there is some area of the compound where there are fewer of them, where we might be able to get some of them alone.”

  Doe directs us to one another. It’s easy enough, we’re actually not that far apart. As we maneuver closer together, my mouth begins to go dry and the sensuit is practically suffocating me. My instincts are screaming at me that this is a very bad idea. That this could actually be one of the worst ideas ever invented in the history of ideas. We are walking into a nest of the most fearsome fighters I have ever seen, soldiers that are so good they make the Karekin look like schoolyard punks. So, we go down there, covered in a friggin’ invisibility blanket and just hope that we get lucky? That there’s what? A little meditation garden where a couple Akshaji are just chilling out and won’t cut our throats the second they see us?

  I am jostled forward by Levi and Navaa. We are among them now. I am close enough to see the purple triad patches on their uniforms. Near enough to see that the acronym is HRU in Akshaj, though I have no idea what that might stand for. The uniforms are bedecked with silver and gold hoops and belts. Each one of them, male and female alike, has a piercing in the middle of their forehead and varying lengths of chains that wrap around their black hair, which is braided tightly in a topknot.

  All the ostentatious decorations should look silly. Instead, it gives them a decidedly regal air, as if they are more warrior than soldier. I close my eyes and center myself. I slow my heart rate down. Here, I must be a ghost, a whisper of a thing. I just need Doe to give us a way in or some kind of location we might go to that would prove useful. I know the drones are scanning and searching, and I am well aware they can penetrate stone. We just need something, for once, to go our way.

  And then, I notice heads begin to turn. First one, and then two, then half a dozen.

  My heart rate begins to accelerate. They know. The fighters stop and with a terrifying intensity, every Akshaj looks in our direction.

  “I can hear you,” one of them spits. “Show yourselves.”

  Navaa practically moans. “Brightest Heavens,” she hisses. “We didn’t think about the one thing that we have been focused on for days. There are Kir-Abisat here.”

  I knew it. I knew we had overlooked a critical component. How stupid to just assume the altered Roones didn’t give the Akshaji the Kir-Abisat. Why wouldn’t they? Unpredictable or not, they are glorious.

  When the Akshaj said he could hear us, he wasn’t talking about our breathing, although they all may well be able to manage that, too. He meant that he could hear us, that our skin was singing a different song entirely.

  We’ve lost the element of surprise. We’ve lost stealth. Our only hope, slim as it is, is that there is not an altered Roone population living here. That somehow, because they consider themselves allies, the Akshaji would not tolerate a constant Roone presence looking over their collective shoulders. Still, no one is going to die here today, not if I have anything to say about it.

  “Sidra,” I whisper faintly, “Rift out. Retreat. Immediately.” There is nothing our reserves here can do but get us all in more trouble. “Cuff,” I say boldly. The sensuit disappears back into my bracelet and I take one giant intake of breath, grateful to finally be free of its suffocating swaddle.

  “What are you doing!” Navaa practically yelps. “We should run. If we move fast enough, we can Rift out before they can capture us.”

  The Akshaj Citadels have taken a different stance than the casual, light-footed demeanor of spectators and sparring partners. They have collectively fanned out, bracing their legs, and raising most of their arms in a defensive posture. Even with the various knives and swords, I can’t help but be reminded of an elegant yoga posture.

  We can’t run. They’d get to us in seconds.

  “If their Kir-Abisat have any kind of real gift, then they know who we are already. They’ll have recognized our frequency and even if they didn’t, they’ll be able to if the altered Roones play it for them,” I tell them in Faida, hoping the Akshaji don’t speak the language, because it would be nice to have at least one advantage here. “This is our one shot to try and get through to them. If we run, if we try to hide, they will never see us as equals. Remember where you are.”

  Levi is the first to uncuff, and then Arif and Navaa follow. I hold my head up high. I’m not afraid of dying. I mean, I don’t want to, but that’s not my real fear here. My fear is that I won’t be taken seriously because I am young. Because I am a girl and human. If we lose the Akshaji, we lose everything.

  “Take me to your commanding officer,” I tell them in their own language. The Akshaj who had called us out comes forward. He gets close, too close, an inch away from me, sniffing and tsking as if I’m nothing more than expired meat.

  “I know what you are,” he says finally and with disdain. The sapphire on his forehead glints in the light, a flashing star. “You are nothing but insects and skeletons. I will take you to our Sairjidahl, but I don’t think you will like it nearly as much as you might imagine.” At that he lets out a giant belly laugh and the others laugh, too, a sea of snickering berry-colored Citadels who are sure we are about to die.

  Before I get the chance to answer, we are surrounded. The Akshaji take hold of us with their many arms. I fight the natural instinct to shrug away, to punch or kick out. Even though their hands feel like writhing snakes on my shoulders, on my elbows, and around my stomach, I let them lead. Better that they mistake my slightness for weakness. Better that I save my energy if there is a confrontation with someone of real importance coming.

  Although Levi bucks slightly, he, too, is being docile enough. Arif and Navaa stare grimly ahead, their wings tucked tightly up against their backs. The doors are already open. They are tall, at least twenty feet and made of intricately carved wood. When we are finally ushered inside, my mouth goes agape and I rush to close it.

  This is no bunker or military facility. This is a true palace. The floors are a smooth black marble as slick as a sheet of ice. There are colors everywhere, bright pinks and neon oranges on wall hangings, rugs covered in tassels and mirrored pillows. The air is thick with incense and there are civilians milling around, most of them only partially clothed in sheer fabrics that showcase the fact that duplicate arms aren’t the only appendages that the Akshaji have more than one of.

  I’m sure it’s rude to stare, but come on. It’s going to take every bit of training I have to not let this throw me. Right in the center of the room is a huge gold leaf (or possibly solid gold—who knows when it comes to this place?) throne, and sitting upon it is a male Citadel. He is wearing a uniform, but he has more jewelry in the form of bracelets, necklaces, and layered belts than any of his fellow soldiers. Though clearly, by the way he’s lazing in the chair, his arms splayed on the tiers of tufted silk armrests, he sees himself as more of a king than a soldier.

  We are pitched at the leader’s feet and I struggle a bit to keep my balance. I don’t fall and neither do the others. One small victory in the face of what is about to be torture—possibly literally, certainly mentally. Visually, there’s a mess of shit here I can’t ever unsee.

  “So,” the man says, his voice a smooth honeyed baritone. “You are humans. Pride of the Roones.” He licks his lips, his dark tongue flickering over them. “More pathetic than the Faida, and I did not think such a thing was possible.” His eyes glance over Arif and Navaa, and his mouth turns upward into a cruel grin.

  I’m sure that Navaa is itching to ask about her missing men and women, but I cut her off before
she can open her mouth. This Akshaj has leverage on her, but he has nothing on me. I can’t be baited.

  “My name is Ryn Whittaker. This is Levi Branach and two of our Faida allies, Navaa and Arif. What is your name?”

  The Citadel takes one hand and places it over his mouth, the way you do when you see something adorable and feel compelled to hide a smile, like it’s a secret. Another hand runs over his head, and yet another two push his body up straighter in the chair.

  “Allies, is it? Really? It’s like a Gleethma and a Kizban playing with a ball of string!” And with that, he cannot hold it back any longer. He has a loud booming laugh that echoes off the walls, an infectious snark that makes everyone else in the hall start to giggle. He is acting, hamming it up by wiping fake tears from his eyes. I just stand there. It might be the one advantage I actually have as a teenage girl. I can do disdain. I can also do bored as fuck to perfection. I fold my arms and jut out my hip. I roll my eyes and wait.

  “You know,” he says while gasping dramatically for air, “there are some, I won’t name names, but there are Akshaji who were actually concerned about the humans. Thank you, girl, for putting any lingering worries we may have had to rest. My name is Sairjidahl Varesh and you’ve made me quite happy. So I won’t kill you.” At this, I notice the courtiers, or soldiers or guards or whatever they are, tilt their heads in our direction, pricking up their ears. Varesh places a knuckled fist under his chin and stares at me. Then, he waves a couple other hands around like he’s swatting a fly. “Well, all right, I will kill you, but not today. Today is a happy day because you bring such good news in the form of your ridiculously feeble presence.”

  “Will it be you killing me? Or should I say—can it be you? That tries to kill me?” I ask him with real enthusiasm.