by Tao Wong
“John,” Ali speaks, jerking me out of my morose brooding.
“Yes?”
“I grabbed a body. I want you to drop it off with Sally,” Ali sends to me, and I frown, looking at the Spirit. He doesn’t mean for us to… “Well, we moving or not?”
I consider just walking into the Shop to sell it. Going back in was insane. There are other dungeons, other places to explore. We already lost one, why go again? But refusing to do so is a good way to get Ali to whine, and I just don’t have the energy.
“John?” Sally turns from the counter as I walk in, looking at me then at Ali, sympathy etching her face. “Something I can do?”
“Yup, pint-size.” Ali flies over and floats above the counter. “I need an autopsy.”
“I’m an Alchemist not a Doctor. I wouldn’t really know where to start.”
Ali shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, and I’ll buy it off the System if I need to, but there’s something I need to know. Now, we good to go or not?”
I watch, bemused.
“Ugh… fine. Backroom, but I charge a hundred Credits an hour,” Sally replies and walks toward the back counter, holding up a finger. “And I’m not negotiating on that, Spirit.”
“Got it, pint-size. Just get me the information I need.”
I watch him float away to deposit the body. I sigh, rubbing my temples. He’s right, I know it. There’s something weird going on in that dungeon and we need to know what. I know that, but I find it hard to care right this second.
Chapter 16
That evening, we gather in the Yerick’s compound. A single brazier, no larger than an arm’s length, dominates the square. A small fire burns in it. Strips of cloth, colored red, blue, and gray, are laid alongside brushes and chest-high tables. Yerick move to these tables, where they write on the cloths strips before depositing them beside the brazier.
As the humans gather, Nelia walks up, inclining her head to us. Amelia and Richard have regrown their limbs, and all of us washed and dressed for the ceremony.
“All we ask is that you write a memory of Tahar on a cloth strip, one that has meaning for you. As blood companions, you will use the red strips. Place them in the bowl set aside for such strips. Before the burning ceremony, we will be Gifting his possessions within the clan. In two hours, we will burn the strips to remind Tahar that he is not forgotten, though he resides in the fields of Heaven. Any questions?” When she receives none, Nelia moves away.
The others move ahead and pick up strips of cloth to write.
Ali stays behind, floating next to me, his voice soft. “The Yerick traditionally only used two colors—the blue for family and lovers, and the gray. Blood companions—those the Yerick fought with—would open their arms, bleeding on the gray strips till they turned red.” I look at Ali, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs. “I figured you’d be into it, boy-o. Being all melodramatic and all. Unless you’re done brooding?”
“Fuck off,” I answer.
“Guess not,” Ali mutters as he floats away to a pile of cloth.
I watch them move around for a while before I make my way over and find a red cloth. I stare at it for a time, wondering what to write, what memory to share. So much blood, death, and pain that we had faced together. Yet it’s not those memories that rise up the strongest.
Tahar, standing on a hillock, laughing as autumn sun pours down on him through a break in the clouds. Covered in mud, hands on his hips as he enjoys the absurdity of the situation—a powerful warrior covered in mud due to a simple misstep.
Three taps with a staff is all that is needed to bring silence to the soft-speaking crowd. The humans have mostly clustered together, though Yerick have come and spoken with us, drawing forth stories as we wait. It’s not all about Tahar of course; conversations turn to the dungeons, to Whitehorse as it was, and the food that we are given. It’s a wake, and there’s only so much that you can say about the departed before you realize it’s time to move on to different topic.
Nelia is standing beside the brazier, an older, gray-haired Yerick beside her. When we are all looking, Nelia speaks. “For Umbrak, a pair of throwing knives. May you learn to find your target.”
A small Yerick child, barely above my hip, scurries forward at his mother’s urging to take the pair of throwing knives that are offered by the older woman. He touches the knives to his forehead then scurries back, embarrassed by the attention.
“For Inunuk, the glow-lamps of Askana that she so admired. May it brighten her evenings with her family,” Nelia says next with a slight gesture. The lamps appear, curving structures of crystal that glow with a pale purple-and-yellow light.
“For Logram, the training weights. Grow strong, brother.”
“For Oranda, the Ares bi-focal pistol that she craved. Remember, seat the battery!”
And on and on it goes. Most gifts are weapons or training equipment, all with a small personalized message. So many gifts, so many messages. I see that I’m not the only human looking surprised. The thought and effort astounds to us. Ali offers little help.
Capstan finds us passing looks of confusion and admiration between us. “Every item we buy, every item we earn or are given, we attach a message or note to it in the System immediately. It is a small Skill, one that is purchased at the Shop for every Yerick at their third rotation. All Yerick do so to ensure that the gift may strengthen the herd. We update the information as and when we need to, but the gifts are our legacy. Our deaths are written in the stars, but even in death, we can strengthen our herd.” Capstan’s deep, grumbly voice is soft so as not to disturb the ceremony.
I see a few nods, even a few questions about what the Skill is called, from my friends. I say nothing, do nothing as I watch the gifts keep coming. I see it now that it’s explained. I watch children given a new gift scurry away, murmuring to themselves. Watch as these children plan for their deaths, for the passing of these newly given items.
“For John Lee, a stash of chocolates. For his temper and our sanity.”
It’s only Ali’s mental hiss that makes me move forward to grab the chocolate that Tahar always seemed to have on hand to offer me when I was grumpy or quiet. I take the product, bowing to his mother, and find myself back at my spot with no memory of the in-between. I find myself saying nothing still, a single chocolate held in hand.
Capstan points at it. “Eat.” I look up and stare at Capstan, who nods at my hand. “Eat. Tahar would not want you angry at his wake.”
I nod and find myself pulling the wrapper apart. The chocolate tastes like ash in my mouth. I eat though, because Capstan is right. My blood sugar is low, and there is more to watch.
Chapter 17
Sally came through for us. The next afternoon, she contacts me with her autopsy results and I rush to the Shop for more details. What she found out confirmed the hunch we had—the Frakin aren’t smart enough, aren’t sentient enough, to plan and plot a trap like that.
Onlivik Spores
A parasitic being, the Onlivik Spores attach to lesser beings and invade their cerebral and nervous system, taking control of conscious mental impulses. Onlivik Spores showcase a rare split-hive mind with a main controller host and varying levels of sophistication and sentience dependent on the number of additional host bodies.
Quest Received—The Onlivik Spores (Shareable)
Destroy the Onlivik Spores that have infected the Frakin in the Two-Horn Mountain Dungeon.
Rewards: 50,000 Credits, 20,000 XP
There’s more, a lot more, in the information I purchased from the Shop, detailing everything from biological details to past encounters with the Spores. Thankfully, it seems that the Onlivik Spores can’t invade System-protected host bodies—at least, not any with any decent amount of Willpower and Constitution. Still, I’m not going to take a chance that we’re all clear, which is why perusing data at the Shop is kept to a minimum. I only stop long enough to get the details on the Spores and how to clear out an infection if there is one among us.
I come back to Earth amid turmoil. Outside the City Center building, the Yerick stand in a group. Capstan is in front, with Nelia standing next to him, and flanking them is Aron and another pair of Yerick I don’t know. Surprisingly, Xev is here in all its glory, maneuvering around in its own powered armor. Sally stands to the side too, arms crossed in anger.
Facing the aliens is a group of humans, made up mostly of the City Council and members of the hunters and butchering yard. Between the group are a very worried Amelia, Vir, and two more of the guards.
“What will you do about this?” Capstan growls, his voice so low it reverberates in my chest. His fur is standing on end, and I can almost see the anger rolling off him.
“Your accusations are unfounded and insulting,” Fred says, nodding to the butchering yard personnel, as he stands there in his pressed suit. He seems confident, standing tall as he opposes the aliens. However, he has his arms crossed and his grip on his upper arm is just a little too tight. “Our men would do no such thing.”
“Lie,” Nelia intones, her voice dispassionate.
“How dare you, you cow!” Eric snaps, his insult eliciting a series of growls from the Yerick.
I’m struck once again that when a Yerick growls, it’s significantly more intimidating than a human’s. Maybe it’s the way they hit lower, deeper notes, or maybe it’s the fact they tower over us mere humans. Either way, the human hunters shift the grips on their guns, which cranks up the tension further.
“Put the gun down,” Amelia snaps when one of the hunters attempts to bring it to his shoulder. She steps in the way, putting her body in front of the barrel. “No one is getting shot today.”
Vir, on the other hand, is speaking to Capstan, his voice low. “First Fist, this is not the way to do things.”
“We have been insulted. Attacked. Disrespected, and now, cheated. We have died for these people. The Yerick will not take any more of this,” Capstan snarls, his voice reverberating. “I demand these Goblin-children return the Credits they have stolen.”
“We have stolen nothing!” Eric snaps.
“Truth,” Nelia intones in that same cold, dispassionate voice.
“There! You see, even your woman knows we speak the truth,” snaps Fred.
“Lie,” Nelia says.
“What?” Eric yelps, eyes swinging between the two as something seems to cross his mind.
Capstan’s lips curl up, a low rumble beginning in his chest.
“Tell your woman to shut up,” Fred snaps.
Capstan moves, surging forward. It is only Vir who manages to make Capstan stop, his body braced against the larger Adventurer.
Fred’s eyes glint in triumph as he adds, “It’s all about violence with you aliens.”
“Enough!” I roar, making my presence known. Gods, I wish I had an Aura or something to make my point, but maybe my reputation of being a complete psychopath will do. “Capstan, you need to stand down.”
The First Fist turns to me, lips drawn as he snarls. “I expected more from you, Redeemer. You protect these humans?”
“If it’ll stop you from attacking? Sure.” I walk forward and watch as the non-human crowd parts around me. I see Sally standing there, arms crossed, and Xev watching me with its bifractal eyes, but my attention is focused on Capstan. “You are better than this.”
“They cheated us,” Capstan rumbles, eyes flaring.
“True,” Nelia intones.
“I heard.” I step forward, putting me in easy reach of the First Fist, and I look up, meeting large brown eyes. “Tell me what is going on and I’ll see what I can do.”
“True.”
Before Capstan can speak, Fred injects, “You have no authority here!”
I hold up a finger for Capstan then turn to meet Fred’s eyes. “Shut up. Or else I’ll rip your tongue out and make you eat it.”
“False,” Nelia says.
“Hey, Truth-shitter, we’re trying to help here!” Ali growls while Fred smirks.
“Fine, try this. If you don’t shut up, I’ll gag you and sit on you. I might even fart a little,” I snap, irritated.
“And he had beans,” Ali adds.
“True,” Nelia says.
Fred shuts up and I grin, absently noting more than a few humans smiling slightly. Yes, my threat was childish, but it’s effective.
“John…”
“You too, Amelia. I’m not going to kill him or hurt him. Just shut him up.”
Her lips tighten, but I note she restrains herself from doing anything. Thank the gods she’s predictable—so long as things stay verbal, she won’t step in.
“Now, Capstan?” I ask.
“We have learnt that you humans have been short-changing us. Your butchering yard men have been taking parts of the kills and under-reporting what we have brought back. It was subtle at first, but it has grown extremely blatant.”
“Truth,” Nelia says.
Fred and more than a few humans shoot her a glare. I can’t help but flick a glance at her then at Ali.
“You got it, boy-o. She’s channeling a Skill that lets her tell the truth of a statement. As the speaker knows it,” Ali explains.
“Fred, your turn,” I say.
“I don’t answer to you,” Fred says.
I consider my next steps quickly. I could beat the florid politician till he tells me what I want to know, but I’m trying to stop violence here. On the other hand…
“Okay. It was more out of courtesy anyway. I’ll just buy it at the Shop.” I glance at Capstan, who inclines his head in agreement.
Fred frowns, but it’s Minion who speaks. “What do you mean, buy it at the Shop?”
“Everything’s for sale, idiot. I’ve told you before. All you need to do is be willing to pay the System’s price,” I answer, turning back to Minion. “This little scheme of yours? Real dumb. You might not have broken any Galactic Law, but you’ve not gotten away with it either. There’s no getting away with anything in this world—it’s always, always recorded.”
Eric snaps his mouth shut, blinking. When Nelia says, “Truth,” he flinches before he points at her. “How do you know she’s telling the truth?”
“Because that’s her Skill, and Class too I’m guessing. She could be lying, but the Yerick aren’t dumb. They know the System and know what an accusation like this could mean,” I say.
Minion’s lips firm even further. One thing about Eric, as annoying as he might be, he’s also smart.
“Truth,” Nelia says again.
I shoot her a glare. She’s doing that each time we say something that isn’t a question, which is actually becoming a little annoying. She must be a riot at parties when she does this.
Miranda’s lips thin, her eyes hard before she jerks her head slightly. “You’re saying we really cheated them?”
“You cannot be serious? You’re willing to believe this rubbish? What is the System? An all-seeing God?” Fred says, waving. “Come on, if the System knew all this, why’d it take them so long to figure out who burned down the Yerick’s buildings?”
“It didn’t,” Amelia says. “We knew who it was almost immediately. Hell, even with my own skills, I figured it out within a few days. We just wanted to make sure.”
“Truth.”
Fred sniffs. “Another damn alien lover. You all band together.”
Amelia opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by Miranda, who says, “Assuming what you say is true, what is stopping the System from lying to us?”
“Never been a case that that’s been proved,” Ali pipes up. “And trust me, with the way we use the System, we’d know.”
“Truth.”
A dark worm of worry gnaws at my gut at that pronouncement, but Miranda nods slightly. “Very well. I’ll go along with this. I had no hand in the cheating.”
“Truth.”
“Neither did I!” Eric spits out before anyone else can say anything.
“Truth.”
That’s not entirely su
rprising after all the protests before, but somehow, I’m still slightly shocked that Minion isn’t part of Fred’s little scheme.
While I’m dealing with my prejudices, Miranda continues. “Very well, First Fist, is it? Are you willing to discuss this matter in a more relaxed setting? Something a little less… aggressive?”
Capstan rumbles slowly, looking between Fred and Miranda and me, doubt on his face.
Vir speaks then. “May I offer my services in this mediation? I believe Lord Roxley would want this matter settled amicably.”
Fred opens his mouth to say something and I reach into my inventory, making a piece of rope appear. I hold it in front of him, and he shuts his mouth with a clack.
Amelia, on the other hand, rolls her eyes, pushing my hand down. “I will take care of the mayor.” She takes hold of Fred’s arm, her face professional. “We’ll be in my office.”
I consider objecting then decide to let it go. Not my place. Anyway, interrogating Fred for what he knows is probably something I should leave to the professional. She might object to more violent measures, but the police have been worming confessions out of suspects for decades without resorting to thumbscrews.
“You know, Ali, the other thieves are going to run,” I think to my friend, and I hear his mental snort.
“Where to?”
I consider his answer then smile grimly. He has a point. In an apocalypse, there really isn’t anywhere to run. Sally prods me in the stomach while I’m thinking, and I remember why I came out from the Shop. A moment later, she has the same information I do, which has her hurrying back to her store to do a quick check.
“Ali…”
“Some of us can multi-task. Already scanned and the group here is clear. Once the others are in range, I’ll scan them too.”
Guess that means I need to hunt down Aiden. The crowd is breaking up—Vir, Capstan, Nelia, and the Councilors headed into the Council’s offices, the hunters dispersing. Xev skitters up and over the buildings, probably back to its workshop. I sigh, rubbing my temples. At some point, we’ll have to let the others know in more detail, but at least for now, we should be safe.
