Fall and Rising

by Sunny Moraine

  “Why the Bideshi, Yuga?”

  Adam clenched his teeth. No, he wasn’t going to do this. He had played the man’s game for a few minutes, on a wild chance. He wasn’t going to give any more ground.

  “I’ve been wondering that. If you had crawled off and died … Well, that was clearly what the people who decided to expel you had in mind. If you had taken up arms yourself, fought back on your own, even that I could understand. But the Bideshi? And you’re fucking one of them? I can’t understand that at all.”

  Adam ducked his head. Stop it. “They saved me.”

  “Did you know they could save you before you fell in with them?”

  “He saved me.” Adam turned again, pointed at Lochlan—and fixed his gaze there, letting the man be his guide-star. Lochlan lifted a hand, as if to reach for him, and Adam remembered how Lochlan had found him on the Plain in the midst of the battle, fought to reach him though the death and chaos, and had held Adam as he waged his own war with the sickness inside him, as he drew power from the ground beneath them both until a silence that hadn’t quite been victory settled over them all. “He did more for me than any of you ever did.”

  “Well, well,” Sinder murmured. A slow smile spread over his face. “You actually love him. Don’t you? It’s not just about fucking. It’s romance.” He twisted the word into mockery, and Adam bared his teeth. “Does he feel the same way? Is he even capable of that?”

  “I don’t think you’d understand.”

  “No, probably not. For which I thank my code.”

  “Yeah, well.” Adam gave a thin smile. “Like I said. You will.”

  “You love him,” Sinder echoed. “You are degenerate.”

  “Whatever you say.” For a moment Adam considered finally taking his own advice and ending the conversation there. But he didn’t, and when he spoke next he heard pity in his voice. Pity for Sinder, for Cosaire, for the entire society of proud fools that he had once been part of. “I was trying to help you,” he said. “I really was. And yes, if that meant destroying something that’s killing us all, I would do that. If I could. But it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen, does it?”

  He stepped away from the wall focusing on Lochlan again. Lochlan was all he was looking at. All he would. “I’m done with you,” he said flatly. “Leave me alone.”

  Sinder didn’t move: maybe he would try to wring more conversation out of the stone that Adam was making himself into. But then he shook his head and gave Adam another smile, getting to his feet and folding up the chair.

  “I’ll be back,” he said. “We’ll have to have more of these chats. I’m enjoying them.” He bowed. “Sleep well, Adam Yuga d’Bideshi.”

  It wasn’t until he was gone that Adam could finally and truly breathe again. He sank back onto his bunk and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He could feel Lochlan’s gaze still on him, but suddenly he couldn’t bear to meet it.

  He had gotten them into this. All of them. Sinder was right about that much.

  And he had no idea how he was going to get them out of it.

  Lochlan awoke to a scream, one that cut off so abruptly it left him lying on his bunk with his eyes wide, wondering if he had dreamt it.

  He sat up. He hadn’t.

  In the cell opposite, Adam was also awake and on his feet, pressed against the transparency staring across the room to where the peacekeeper had been sitting at her desk. Had been. She was now slumped over it, a thin line of blood trickling from her temple. Lochlan gaped. He hadn’t even heard the shot. When his gaze flicked to the peacekeeper standing over her, he saw why: the pistol he held was equipped with a silencer.

  The peacekeeper glanced up, and though Lochlan couldn’t see his face, he recognized him immediately.

  I’m a friend.

  “I didn’t want to,” the man said, his voice low and gruff. “But she wasn’t going to be cooperative, and I didn’t have time to handle it any other way. Even with the surveillance feeds outta commission.” He bent over the console, his fingers moving rapidly, and a few seconds later the cell doors all hissed open. Lochlan crossed the room in what felt like a single stride, though his stomach continued to throb in time with his split lip and should have made moving that quickly difficult. Adam stepped forward to meet him, reached up to frame his face.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He turned to the peacekeeper, hands remaining on Adam’s shoulders. He still didn’t trust the man, but he was outside of the cell, and he wasn’t going to argue with that. “What now?”

  “Now we get the fuck outta here.” The peacekeeper nodded to Kerry’s cell, and Lochlan glanced back at him; the man was trying to push himself up, looking over at them with a dazed expression. “Can one of you help him? I’m not leaving him here unless we absolutely have to.”

  “I can.” Adam went to Kerry, bending down and offering his arm, which the man took, though it was an effort to get him on his feet. Lochlan frowned. The idea of taking on someone who would probably only slow them down wasn’t an attractive one, but again, arguing seemed ill-advised. Especially when he gathered that Adam would be the main one insisting they not leave Kerry behind.

  So, sighing, he stepped forward to help, and as Adam staggered out of the cell, Kerry leaning against him, Lochlan slipped an arm around him from the other side, bearing him up.

  The peacekeeper nodded shortly. “All right. There’s a shuttle waiting in one of the lower bays. Out of the way. Let’s get going.”

  “Who are you?” Adam asked as they left the brig and began to edge along the bright corridor. Lochlan had caught Adam glancing back at the woman slumped over the console, a pained expression twisting at his features. “You said you were a friend?”

  “Didn’t I do a friendly thing just now?” The man waved a hand at them. “Quiet. If you look like anything but prisoners we’ll get stopped for sure.”

  Lochlan shot Adam a quick glance. “You don’t think the lack of cuffs will be kind of a tip-off? I know we weren’t cuffed when we got in here, but it’ll look suspicious now. You can’t seriously expect people here to be that dense.”

  “Nothing to be done about it. I need you to help Kerry. That might be enough of a reason for anyone who doesn’t think about it for more than a few seconds.”

  Kerry, for his part, seemed to be getting stronger as they walked, supporting a little more of his own weight. “Yuga?” He focused on Adam, his brows furrowed. “Shit, they did get you. I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t your fault.” Adam’s expression softened, then he swung his attention straight ahead of them again. “I know how persuasive they can be.”

  On the second level they descended to, they ran into their first officer, but she only gave the peacekeeper a nod and kept on walking. Another one passed without paying them any attention at all, and Lochlan’s confidence rose—this might actually work, especially if their luck continued. But when the third officer waved them to a halt, his spirits sank again.

  Maybe it would be helpful if he appeared as dejected as possible.

  “Where are you taking the prisoners?”

  “Sinder asked to see them. Privately, in his quarters.” The peacekeeper shrugged. “Look, I don’t ask questions.”

  “All the same. Do you have an order for it?”

  The man’s tone radiated irritation. “Not on me. He didn’t bother to give me one. He only told me to get them, so I got them. Why, do you want to explain to him why you delayed them?”

  The officer frowned, reaching for her comm. “I think he’d be glad that all the proper precautions were taken. I’ll page him, it’ll only take a moment. Sit tight.”

  “Oh, wait.” The peacekeeper lowered a hand to his side. “I think maybe I do have one after all.”

  Lochlan knew what was coming a second before it happened: the peacekeeper drew his sidearm, fast as blinking, and put a bullet in the officer’s chest with a soft, high-pitched thunk. She went down i
mmediately, an expression of surprise on her face. There was as little blood as there had been with the peacekeeper in the brig.

  Again, Adam’s features tensed. Kerry turned his head away.

  “Had to,” the peacekeeper growled. “C’mon, we really have to shake a leg now. Soon as they find her, they’ll be raising every alarm in the place.”

  They moved on, Lochlan and Adam helping Kerry along as fast as they could. The rest of the way down to the docking bay—via another lift and series of corridors—they encountered no one, but as soon as the bay doors opened, two armored peacekeepers looked up from their station by the door …

  And reached for their sidearms.

  The peacekeeper with them squeezed off three shots before Lochlan had time to shout a warning, and the two other peacekeepers dove for cover. Lochlan turned back to the bay, adrenaline pumping through his veins; five shuttles were lined up side by side. “Which one?”

  “Doesn’t matter! Closest one! Run for it, I’ll cover you.” The peacekeeper went down on one knee, firing again, and a bullet whizzed past inches from Lochlan’s ear. He didn’t have to be told twice. He tightened his grip on Kerry and hurried forward.

  “Adam, let’s move!”

  Adam was already moving, keeping pace with him as they made for the nearest shuttle, Kerry trying to run but managing no more than a brisk trot. More bullets missed them by almost nothing at all, and from behind them someone let out a harsh cry of pain.

  If they had to leave the man behind, well, he wasn’t sure he actually disliked the idea, whatever he had risked for them.

  The shuttle, by some miracle, wasn’t locked, and Adam pressed the hatch release, extending the small gangway and pushing them up it. “Come on!” He whirled halfway back, though Lochlan hissed a curse and tried to drag them all onward. “Run! It’s open!”

  Lochlan stole a glance behind; the peacekeeper pushed to his feet and ran. Blood was running down one arm from a wound in his shoulder, and the arm swung as if paralyzed, but the man managed to fire over his shoulder twice more before he reached them. “Go! Now!”

  “I can fly.” Lochlan handed Kerry off to Adam and pushed past them as the peacekeeper punched the panel to close the hatch. The cockpit was only feet away, and he dropped into the pilot’s seat, rapidly scanning the console. It looked almost nothing like the patchwork of Volya, but it was standard enough. He could use it.

  Volya. Fresh pain lanced through him. They were leaving her behind. He would probably never see her again.

  Later, he would have time to mourn her. He engaged the engines and the thrust release, swiveling them in place to face the main bay doors. As the view out the front window spun slowly, he had time to see the far doors opening to spew about twenty peacekeepers in full armor, weapons drawn. Gunfire continued to rattle against the hull’s shielding, and Lochlan gritted his teeth as he sent up prayers to anyone or anything who might be listening.

  The peacekeeper fell into the copilot’s seat, gloved hands flying across his end of the console—one of them streaked with blood. “The docking is automated. I have the departure code. Just a second.” He cursed under his breath. “Unless they’ve locked us out. If we’re in time …”

  The bay doors rumbled and began to open. Beyond was the white maelstrom of slipstream. Lochlan let out a hysterical breath, almost twisting it into a moan, and then the ship rocked. Disembarking in slipstream was dangerous. But he had done it before. Many times.

  “Shit,” the man hissed. “Get us outta here. Now.”

  Lochlan fired the engines, and the ship leaped forward, slicing through the force field and into the white.

  And stuttered. Shook. Lochlan pulled up a quick diagnostic, and groaned. “We took a hit to the slipstream drive. We’re coming out. I can’t stop it.”

  “Well, whatever.” The peacekeeper winced, a hand against the bullet wound. “If we’re alive …”

  All at once, the white snapped into black, dizzying him for a split second before the universe regained its normal shape. Lochlan called up star charts, scanning them furiously—a small star system, nondescript sun and only a few planets of no particular note. Exiting slipstream took a matter of seconds, and whoever was in pursuit had to have the coordinates they’d escaped at. They would be close behind. “If we can only run on sub-slipstream engines … Khara, we have to put down somewhere and hide. We won’t be able to get away from them like this.”

  “Where are we?” The peacekeeper leaned over to study the chart and pointed to a planet that appeared to be only a couple hundred thousand kilometers distant. “That would work. Habitable. Dry, but it’s still—”

  “How are we doing?” Adam said from behind them. “I got Kerry into a seat; he’s okay for now. What are we—”

  “We’re landing. We have to.” Lochlan glanced back. “Slipstream drive is out of commission. I might be able to repair it, but—”

  “Here they come.” The peacekeeper cursed again, flicking on the rear screens. A collection of pale ships was blinking into existence behind them, and a large group of skirmish fighters was leading the pack. “Burn. Hard as you can.”

  Lochlan laid in a course for the planet and in another second the engines were in hard burn, thrusting them toward it at speed. But it wasn’t as fast as the fighters would be able to go. Smaller and more nimble, they would be gaining, and he didn’t need to consult the proximity sensors to know it. The planet swelled in the window, the part they could see rocky and barren, run through here and there with long, wide rivers. There had to be a hiding place. Somewhere.

  The shuttle shivered, and warning lights flicked on. Lochlan assessed the damage in a few seconds, and gave the peacekeeper a grim look.

  There was nothing to be done except to work with what they had. There was something perversely comforting about that.

  “Landing is going to be rough. They took out half our atmo stabilizers.”

  “Can you get us down?”

  “He can,” Adam said quietly. “If anyone can.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, chusile,” Lochlan muttered, diverting what power he could spare to the stabilizers that remained. “No pressure or anything, right?”

  The shuttle began to shake and rattle as they plunged down into the planet’s upper atmosphere, as if it was being continually fired upon now—which perhaps it was. Lochlan gritted his teeth, staring at the ground hurtling toward them.

  The sun was beginning to rise over the curve of the horizon. Lochlan was aware, in a distant way, that it was strangely beautiful.

  The shuttle dipped, spiraled, then they were in free fall for a few seconds that made his stomach lurch before he managed to pull them out of it again. “Hold on,” he cried. Almost every warning light that could be lit was flashing in panic. Close below them was a range of low mountains flanked by one of the smaller rivers, and they were approaching it at an alarming speed, a few thousand feet, a few hundred, less. “I think I can—”

  Impact, so hard he felt himself fly out of the seat and tumble backward into something yielding that could only be Adam’s body. He flailed and the world spun around him, and there was a yell of pain. They were bouncing, skidding, and something was burning. He reached for Adam, hands grasping desperately—

  And then his head exploded with white agony.

  Nkiruka pressed her hands together and the glowbugs came to her.

  They always came. They always had, from the time she had been a child exploring the roots and massive trunks of the Arched Halls, the trees brought from Terra when the first Bideshi had chosen their own exile centuries before to keep the roots of a long-lost home. Whether they were drawn to her extraordinary capacity to stay still for long periods—despite the abandon of her dancing—or whether they sensed kinship with her, no one knew, and least of all Nkiruka herself. What mattered was that they came, and they spoke to her in voices that no one else could hear.

  Of the past. The present. Future things. They were like little stars, a
nd like the stars they knew much.

  Now they landed on her hands and forearms, on the coils of her hair, casting a warm and shifting light across her deep-brown skin. People said she was so still sometimes that she became one of the trees themselves, and that was part of why she was so at home in the Halls. In truth, she was more at home here than any other place on Ashwina.

  “Little brothers, little sisters,” she whispered, like the gentlest breeze moving through the branches. “Slow down. Slow down and let me listen.”

  They were chattering.

  Something was happening.

  It had been happening for a long time, she knew. Since the homeship and the convoy left Takamagahara, pushing out into a black more uncertain than it had been in many years. Nkiruka was comfortable with uncertainty in a way that few others were, but it wasn’t as though it didn’t trouble her at all, and now that uncertainty was rising in intensity. She frowned.

  “Nkiru. Wingsister. They said you might be here.”

  She turned, startled, then smiled at the tall figure moving toward her through the shadows. Kae, walking with barely a trace of the limp that the Battle of the Plain had left him, bearing a tray of votives in his arms. Candles and prayers for the spirits of the dead that dwelt in the trees. Who was to say that the spirits weren’t the glowbugs themselves?

  It was good to see Kae. Before the battle, she hadn’t known him well, but after … After, everyone was a little bit closer in new ways, and she and Kae were no exception. Her, an untested pilot who had barely come through the fight alive. Him, the man who had trained her, who comforted her and her wingsisters and brothers in the aftermath when the air was still thick with fear and blood.

  “It helps to listen.” She shifted, and the bugs took humming wing, hovering around her as if reluctant to leave. She frowned. “It’s more guidance than we get from the council these days.”

  “With no one to read the lines or the charts or the gut? I know.” Kae set down the tray, dropping into a crouch beside her and catching one of the glowbugs in the curve of his palm. It crawled across his life line, flexed its wings, and took off again. “You’d think they would have settled on someone to take her place by now.”