Survival Aptitude Test: Fury (The Extinction Odyssey Book 2)

by Mike Sheriff

  The seats had already rotated beneath the floor. It allowed unimpeded progress to the northern archway, but his thoughts had dwelled on the fate unfolding for his granddaughter and Daoren in the grooll mill. On two occasions—midway across the floor—he swore he heard Daoren calling out her name. At the time, he’d dismissed it as an auditory hallucination; a trick of a distressed mind. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  Once outside, he and Cordelia had blended in with a crowd of celebrating denizens who were oblivious to the slaughter on the opposite side of the Center. They’d worked their way north via a myriad structures and vacant laneways before doubling back. The diversion had taken so long, he was sure Heqet and Daoren would be down here when they arrived.

  That was over five hours ago.

  Cordelia leaned on a table, her back to the antechamber’s doors, her face a rigid mask. When they first arrived, she’d chatterwailed at length about the implications of her son’s perfect score. In time, her conversation turned to the obstacles Daoren and Heqet had to overcome to survive the grooll mill. It then shifted to what might be delaying them before stopping altogether. She hadn’t spoken for over an hour now.

  Nor had he. Neither of them voiced it, but a horrid realization had set like a nullglass shell around their hearts. Heqet and Daoren might be—

  The antechamber’s double-doors swished open.

  Daoren staggered out, cradling Heqet’s limp form. He laid her atop a glass table.

  Their appearance gave Laoshi such a start, he almost dropped the priceless instrument. The sight of Heqet’s body paralyzed his muscles, culling his breath and rooting him to the floor.

  Cordelia whirled and released a manic squeal. She rushed over to Daoren and gathered him in her arms, squeezing until his face bloomed bright red. “Thank Sha, thank Sha, thank Sha,” she said. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Laoshi overcame his paralysis. He set the violin on a table and inched closer to Heqet. She lay on her back, unmoving. “Is . . . is she . . . ?”

  “She’s alive,” Daoren said, voice a semi-tone higher thanks to Cordelia’s arm-vise.

  Laoshi drew close enough to see fresh abrasions crisscrossing Heqet’s face. His eyes pooled, blurring his vision. The micro-cuts meant she’d been sealed inside her pod. They meant she’d come within a photonic-cutter’s breadth of being harvested.

  “She’s still groggy,” Daoren said, free of his mother’s clutches. “I don’t know what happened, but she absorbed the full power of the stun shock.”

  “What took you so long?” Cordelia asked.

  “The district’s crawling with Jireni patrols,” Daoren said. “We linked up with a group of free denizens who escorted us all the way to the northern entrance. If it weren’t for their help, we mightn’t have made it here.”

  “How did you get Heqet out of the pod?” Laoshi asked.

  Daoren waggled the sandal on his right foot. “I improvised.” He grasped Laoshi’s hand. “My thanks for the dagger. I think I’ll hang on to it—it may prove useful again.”

  Laoshi pulled him into an embrace. Pent-up relief thickened his voice. “Thank you, Daoren. You truly are Dominus reborn.”

  The instant he let Daoren go, Cordelia latched onto him again. The boy’s lips stretched in a self-conscious grin as though the physical contact embarrassed him.

  Heqet moaned atop the table. Her eyelids fluttered open. Laoshi leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Hello, my sweet Heqet.”

  Her forehead crinkled. “Grandfather?”

  The sound of her voice triggered fresh tears. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. “Be still. You’re safe.”

  Heqet’s gaze wallowed as if she was lost in both time and space. “I’m safe?”

  “Yes, child. Do you remember what happened?”

  “I remember a Jiren grabbing my jaw. I think he rubbed my temples before he . . .”

  “Before he what?” Laoshi asked.

  Her body shuddered. “Before he kissed me.”

  “That would explain it,” Daoren said, extricating himself from his mother’s grip. “You were unconscious the whole time.”

  Heqet sat up. Her brow crimped. “How’d I get here?”

  “I carried you.”

  “But how’d I get out of the grooll mill?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Heqet’s jaw slackened. “I owe you my life.”

  “No more than I owe you mine. If you hadn’t found me in the Center, I’d be . . .” Daoren abandoned the thought and looked to Laoshi. “Though I wonder what’s been saved. We’re non-denizens now.”

  “You’re much more than that,” Laoshi said. “Narses received a perfect score on his test. Your score.”

  Daoren glanced up at the rocky ceiling. “The night air is thick with Jireni who’ll cull us on sight. What use is being the Unum Potentate if the Unum is still alive?”

  “Come,” Laoshi said, “I’ll show you how we can resurrect ourselves.” He helped Heqet off the table. She clung to his arm, gazing at him with a mix of frailty and affection.

  Laoshi squinted. Her face looked different, and not only because of the checkerboard abrasions. After a few seconds it dawned on him. “Your braids!”

  Heqet reached for her braids . . . or where they should have been. Her hands shot up to her head and patted her cropped hair. Her stunned gaze found Daoren.

  He surrendered another self-conscious grin. “I can, um . . . explain that.”

  ON THE FLOOR of the grooll mill, Pyros reviewed the investigation’s findings with Commander Cang. The acrid smell of boiled grooll fouled the air, making his nose run. The liquified remains of twenty-thousand prospects had contributed to creating the stench hours earlier. The realization turned his stomach.

  The mill’s autonomous-monitoring algorithms had detected two anomalies during the grooll-processing sequence. An alert had been issued to Cang’s district office within minutes, and the first group of Jireni had arrived on the scene half an hour later. The investigation fell under her jurisdiction thanks to the mill’s location in Zhongguo Cheng. Her men had spent hours examining the evidence on the platforms. Ten teams of Jireni still scoured the floor, searching for clues to explain the anomalies.

  “They must have exited through a loading shaft at the end of the extrusion line,” Cang said, pointing toward the southern end of the mill.

  Cylindrical cabinets stretched for hundreds of feet along the floor’s southern end. After mixing, the precursor passed through the cabinets for irradiation and extrusion into its classic torus shape. In the final stages, the grooll was cooled, sliced, and fed into airtight crates. Automated huvvadollies delivered the crates to loading shafts where they were hoisted to surface docks for transshipment to distribution centers throughout Daqin Guojin.

  Pyros swiped a sleeve across his runny nose. Daoren and Heqet could have exited the mill in countless ways without encountering a single living soul. How they managed to escape the platforms in the first place defied understanding.

  From his vantage point, the feat appeared impossible. Supposing they’d survived the stun shot, the photonic cutting, the high vacuum, and the liquidation process, that still left a terrifying one hundred-foot climb down to the floor. The maze of piping beneath each platform didn’t offer enough handholds or footholds to make the descent without mechanical aids. There was no way they could—

  The regal entourage approached from the southern end of the floor, interrupting Pyros’ analysis. He shifted focus to the advancing group.

  The Unum waddled with purpose, no doubt anxious for answers. Beside him, Narses lumbered in a purple mianfu. Its red gleamglass embroidery and gold piping announced his status as Unum Potentate. His cropped scalp glistened, rivaling his father’s for largest in Daqin Guojin. Julinian stayed a deferential pace behind her cousin—less than pleased to be walking in his shadow judging by her glower. Flanking the three were a dozen Jireni, chest plates emblazoned with the red cupolas and golden eaves of the Imp
erial Regalia. The Unum had started traveling with his personal guard whenever he left the Assembly—however secure the location.

  Pyros sighed. “The Unum’s arrived for his briefing.”

  “Would you like to conduct it, sire?”

  He ground his teeth. News of Laoshi and Cordelia’s escape had sent the Unum into a blind rage hours earlier. Sha only knew what this latest revelation would bring. Pyros could think of a thousand other activities he’d rather to be doing than briefing the ruler of Daqin Guojin. Sitting in his abode’s parlor with his wife and daughters topped the list. But this ill news was his to bear, not Cang’s. She needed to remain unsullied in the Unum’s eyes. He nodded. “By your leave.”

  The Unum wasted no words on formalities once he reached them. “What have you found?”

  “Two pods failed to process during the grooll-making sequence,” Pyros said.

  “Whose?” the Unum asked.

  Pyros braced for impact. “Daoren’s and Heqet’s.”

  The Unum’s mouth opened, but no words escaped it. Beside him, Narses’ vaulting forehead rumpled. “How’s that possible?”

  “We’ve confirmed that Daoren was restrained in his seat at the end of the test, but it appears he exited the pod before it sealed. The panel on Heqet’s pod was breached, suggesting she was inside at the time of sealing. The absence of blood in the pod also suggests Daoren freed her before the photonic-cutting process began.”

  “How could he free her?” the Unum asked, shaking his head. “I had him assigned to a different row than Heqet. And the stun shot should have stunned him.”

  “A Jiren assigned to the Center reported that Heqet spoke with Daoren before the test,” Cang said. “It’s possible she may have applied some kind of material to his head during the interaction.”

  “What kind of material?” Narses asked.

  “An insulating material,” Cang said. “Liquid glass, I’d wager.”

  A purplish hue soured the Unum’s scalp. Pyros readied himself for the eruption that was sure to follow.

  A young Jiren approached. He halted, tarrying on the group’s periphery. His drawn cheeks and taut lips implied he had important news to share. Pyros motioned for him to speak, hoping it might stave off the Unum’s rage.

  “Forgive the interruption, sire,” the Jiren said, “but we found these under a grooll tank.”

  He handed three lengths of braided hair to Pyros.

  They were the color of polished sandstone. The first braid measured three feet. Its thickest end had been cleanly cut, probably with an edged instrument. The other braids were half as long. Each had a blackened tip; they’d been subjected to considerable heat.

  Pyros raised the shorter braids to his nose. A scorched smell still lingered. He lifted his gaze to the platforms and traced the cables connecting them to the floor.

  Friction-generated heat would explain the charred ends, but the evidence merely glossed over the act that had produced it. He tried to envision Daoren and Heqet navigating a cable using the braids as impromptu sliders. While possible, the feat would have required a vast reserve of nerve and daring.

  Narses snatched the braids from Pyros’ hand. “What are you doing to locate them?”

  Pyros scowled. Narses’ new title had awoken a brasher and more impetuous persona; Sha help the city-state if he became Unum. “We’ve doubled the Jireni patrols. Alerted the border stations.”

  “Can’t you remotely track them or activate their sonic nanocharges?” Narses asked.

  Behind him, Julinian chucklebucked into her hand. “Completing the S.A.T. deactivates the devices, as any prospect with an ounce of sense knows. But thanks for your input.”

  Narses flung the braids to the floor and wheeled to his cousin. “You’d better watch how you address me or I’ll—”

  “Have you sent any troops into the Librarium?” the Unum asked, quashing Narses’ retort. “It’s the only place Daoren and Heqet can seek refuge. It’s the only place Laoshi and Cordelia can seek refuge after your men let them slip away.”

  “Of course not,” Pyros said. “The edict prevents Jireni from—”

  “I’m rescinding the edict,” the Unum said. “I consider Daoren, Heqet, Laoshi, and Cordelia to be threats to the security of Daqin Guojin. They will have no haven.”

  “You wish to send Jireni into the Librarium?” Cang asked, the shock in her voice plain to hear.

  “I want an assault force readied immediately! And inform your men I’m offering fifty thousand pounds of grooll to whomever culls them!”

  The Unum waddled away. His cadre of sycophants trailed him.

  Cang heaved an incredulous sigh once they were out of earshot. “What in Sha’s name is he thinking?”

  “He isn’t thinking,” Pyros said. “All the Unum knows is appetite.”

  “Do we relay his order?”

  “What choice do we have? As the Unum commands, the Jireni obey.”

  IN THE VOID, Daoren, Heqet, and Cordelia gathered before the lumenglass stage amid the rows of tables and artifacts. A plasmonic projection of the Earth rotated above the stage beside Laoshi, its axial tilt twenty-two-and-a-half degrees from the vertical, its diameter more than twice his size. Dead continents displayed sandy-brown hues, all tagged with the names assigned by the ancients.

  Daoren tarried for Laoshi to reveal the purpose of the tutorial. As usual, the Primae Librarian was taking his own meandering path to the point.

  Laoshi manipulated his quantum tile.

  The projection’s rotation stopped. The perspective zoomed in on the Italian Peninsula. Daqin Guojin resolved, its fifty Chengs replicated amid arid desert with faithful accuracy.

  “Daqin Guojin,” Laoshi said, motioning to the projection. “Look at it. It’s like a precious stone set in a fallow wasteland, isn’t it? Some call it life’s last oasis, but few understand the truth of the statement.” He paced the stage, gaze lowered to its black panels. “From the summits of the highest mountains to the depths of the deepest oceans, life in near-infinite variety once found a foothold, but the Cycle of Extinctions left only humans alive on a sterile planet.”

  Daoren shifted his weight from foot to foot. This was no time for rudimentary history lessons. “We know that, Laoshi.”

  Laoshi halted. “Do you? What did you learn of the Cycle of Extinctions during your independent study?”

  Daoren sighed, recalling the grooll inquisition weeks earlier. What did the old Librarian expect him to say this time?

  “Come, Daoren. Humor an old man.”

  Daoren looked to Heqet and Cordelia for support. They both shrugged as if equally confused by the subject’s bearing on their current predicament.

  “I can’t tarry the rest of the night for an answer,” Laoshi said. “We have work to do.”

  “It’s the historical period during which all multi-celled life except for humans died off,” Daoren said. “Does that satisfy your need for humor, or shall I continue?”

  “No need,” Laoshi said. “Heqet, perhaps you could tell us when the Cycle ended.”

  Heqet stuttered as if surprised to be drawn into the conversation. “Um . . . it ended with the eradication of green, brown, and red algae, seven hundred years ago.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She released a feeble chucklebuck. “Because you told me.”

  “And when did it begin, Cordelia?”

  “The length of the Cycle is unknown,” Cordelia said. “Some say five centuries, some five millennia, others fifty. There’s no empirical evidence to support an exact timeline.”

  “Excellent! Now, can any of you tell me how it began?”

  Daoren flicked an exasperated glance at Heqet and Cordelia before addressing Laoshi. “No one knows,” he said, irritation etching his voice.

  “Really? Not even the prospect who just wrote a perfect S.A.T.?”

  Prickly heat flushed the back of Daoren’s neck. “No one knows how it began!”

  Laoshi rasplaughed. “Fo
rgive the clumsy illustration, but I needed to illuminate our ignorance to prove a point.”

  “And what point is that?”

  “That we’ve lost sight of the world that once existed, Daoren. Even the most intelligent of us is blind to the truth. I want you to keep that in mind as we proceed.”

  “What are we proceeding with?” Cordelia asked.

  “A journey that will lead to our resurrection.” Laoshi resumed his pacing before the plasmonic projection, eyes closed as if harvesting his thoughts. “Years ago, before I became Primae Librarian, I developed a theory for what set off the Cycle of Extinctions. I spent countless hours in the B stacks of the Spires, pouring over the cultural records of antiquity, unearthing clues buried in scrolls that hadn’t been touched in hundreds of years. Within those dusty archives, I found evidence to support my hypothesis.”

  “And?” Daoren asked, eager to arrive at the point.

  Laoshi halted and opened his eyes. “The Cycle was initiated by the extinction of a small, seemingly innocuous species belonging to the genus Apis.”

  “The genus what?” Heqet asked.

  “The honeybee,” Laoshi said. “It was once regarded as a crucial pollinator. Its extinction resulted in the loss of up to one-quarter of the Earth’s food crops.”

  “And this small, seemingly innocuous species triggered the loss of all life on the planet?” Cordelia asked.

  “Both directly and indirectly. The extinction of other wild pollinators soon followed, causing extreme food scarcity and protracted resource conflicts among the ancient societies. The violence they unleashed hastened the decline of already fragile ecosystems. The Earth passed an unrecoverable tipping point when elevated levels of atmospheric carbon dioxide led to ocean acidification, culling aquatic life.”

  “It’s an interesting theory,” Daoren said, “but how does knowing this help us? We’re stuck hundreds of feet underground. The Unum and the entire security apparatus of the city-state will hunt us down the moment we leave the Librarium’s grounds.”

  “Not if we reverse the Cycle.”

  “And how might we do that?” Heqet asked. “Are we going to resurrect honeybees?”