by J. Rock
20.
"This is a really stupid idea," I say, crossing my arms as if that would settle the issue.
"There is no choice, Juno," Altair rebuts, crossing his own arms in mockery of mine.
We're standing in a secluded corner of Venecici Station, waiting for the next Engie to show up. The place is crowded, full of mutant beggars who carry all of their worldly possessions on their backs, looking to buy passage out of Venecici. Demand is high for such a passage right now, and supply in the form of space is low.
The price is not cheap.
"We don't even know if this mythical lab still exists," I counter, keeping the argument going.
"Oh, it exists," Ursa mouths casually, sliding in beside Altair. "I just don't know what kind of a state it will be in. The mutants of Everwinter certainly had little love for the place."
I keep my expression unmoved.
"You're one of the two last humans, Juno," Altair points out in a hushed tone, as if I don't know it already. "Your responsibility to mankind supersedes any irrational fears you might have."
"Irrational!" I object, keeping my voice likewise low. "It's exactly because I am the last human that I want to stay as far from Everwinter as possible! You've heard the stories! The mutants there have white flesh because they live in perpetual darkness, no eyes because there's no light to see by, and they feast on the flesh of the living because there's nothing else to eat!"
"I heard they drink blood," Traylor adds, sarcastically. He's not on my side; he's actually excited to go to Everwinter.
Altair puts a hand on my shoulder. "They're just stories, Juno. You said so yourself."
"How do you know?" I stubbornly continue. "Have you ever been to Everwinter?"
Altair sighs, clearly reluctant. He doesn't want to admit that he hasn't. "I have," he finally answers.
I'm taken aback. "Really? When?"
Ursa is next to me now. "I'd like to know as well," she says. "Not many people from Eversummer venture over to Everwinter. Even fewer come back. Why else do you think we chose to locate our lab there?"
Altair shrugs. "It doesn't matter. I'm an Assassin, and it was part of my job. That's all you need to know."
Ursa and I eye each other warily. I guess we aren't going to get a more satisfactory answer than that. Not yet at least.
A sudden, shrill whistling echoes throughout the vast open air space and, through a brick arch hanging over the track, the Engie bursts into view. There aren't many Engies left in Eversummer. I've seen the one in Krakelyn, but it broke down before I was born. Seeing one up and running is a bit of a thrill. This one is bullet shaped, red, and made up of a dozen similarly shaped compartments–some for passengers, others for cargo. Cattle and grain, mostly. There's some cattle on this Engie–the smell gives it away–but it's immediately clear that the people running things are not discriminating; they're packing on anyone who paid the hefty price to get aboard.
Not that many, considering how many people are waiting here.
The conductors are mobbed by the poor masses, beggars wanting to be let on for a lesser fee or free altogether. One of the conductors screams for the lot of them to get back, raising a shooting iron into the air and firing it once. The crowd scatters, likewise screaming.
The way is clear for us.
"That's our cue," Altair nods. We start moving.
"Hard to believe that that stupid Forerunner plow was enough to get all of us on here," I say, grumbling.
Altair looks at me warily. "That machine would normally be worth enough to get half the people in this station on board," he gestures. "Hard times."
"I guess," I say with a shrug.
The man Altair had bargained with at the station had been pretty shocked when we pulled up in the plow after retrieving it from the jungle outside the city. He hadn't believed we really had one. Altair finds the same man now, standing with the conductors, and walks up to him. They exchange a few words, then the man smiles and points to a car near the rear of the Engie.
A cattle car.
"And yet, we can't afford a Prime Class seat," I grumble.
Altair rolls his eyes as he rejoins us, moving toward the back of the vehicle. "Not for four of us," he replies curtly. "Besides, there won't be as many people back here. It'll be better that way." He's talking about mine and Traylor's disguises. Altair made more of that grayish fruit paste and applied it to our faces. The fewer people that get a close up look at us, the better.
We reach our car, wide open on the side with a large sliding door, all smooth metal. The sounds and smells of pigs, horses, and cows attack our nostrils. I hear Traylor groaning mournfully.
I smirk back at him. Not so fun now, is it?
Altair climbs up, a small stool provided as a step. He helps first Ursa, then Traylor aboard. I'm last. I look under the train as I step up. The bottom of the car is outfitted with two massive magnets, both of which repel and hold the vehicle in the air between two massive metal rails. The actual Engie is at the front, an oil fired motor spewing smoke and flame out the back. It’s thought that Engies were once powered by the sun. But that technology no longer exists. Current Engies are an amalgamation of Forerunner and Eversummer technology. That's why an Engie was allowed in Krakelyn, at one time. It couldn't be proven which parts of the technology actually belonged to the Forerunners, and the benefit of the doubt was given; a loophole exploited by more than a few Krakelyners.
I ascend onto a straw strewn floor, littered here and there with animal droppings. The cattle are corralled in pens on either side of the car. I thank the gods that the animals aren't loose in here. There are six other people in the car with us–two per corner–leaving us with our own. We settle into it, stacking bales of straw to create a seating area. We sit, eyeing our co-passengers and munching on some rations we picked up in town.
"How far is it to the Fringes?" I ask, breaking the nervous silence.
I look at Altair, but it's Ursa who answers.
"Well, I've always traveled by the Fringeroad to Everwinter, but it's been years and I've heard that way is no longer safe. From Venecici, it took about five days by horse cart, three in an oil fired vehicle. I've never taken an Engie though."
"Engies are much faster," Altair offers. "It may only take a single day. I'd bank on two though."
Ursa's eyes widen. "It goes that fast?"
Altair nods.
I'm just trying to imagine something moving faster than an oil fired engine. The Forerunner plow had been plenty fast enough for me. This Engie is oil fired too, but it has no wheels and virtually no friction to contend with. I find myself excited to get going.
The conductors outside call for final boarding and, five minutes later, we feel the car begin to lurch. A powerful whine issues as the Engie powers up. The side doors on the car slam shut, immersing us in semi-darkness. There are thin open slots on the side of the car, letting in light and fresh air. My eyes adjust quickly. That shrill whistle issues once more and we're finally off, the sensation of increasing speed rising with my heart rate. Through the side window slots, shadowy objects slash by at an alarming rate, but I can't make out any details.
Traylor pulls a hay bale close to the wall and sticks an eye against one, peeking out. "Wow!" is all he says.
At least he has something to keep him entertained.
I can't hold my curiosity back either.
I move over toward Traylor, stumbling a bit, not used to moving around on an already moving surface. I join him on the hay bale and peer out. Green blurs and grey smears blast across my vision. I focus on one in the milliseconds it takes to pass, seeing one of those tall trees with the broad leaves on top. The grey blurs are rock faces in the background. I'm used to the geography of this area by now, and while I no longer find it as fascinating, the speed at which we're traveling makes me queasy. I pull away and stumble back to my original hay bale, bending prone.
"Give it a moment," I feel Ursa's hand on my back. "It wil
l pass. It's called sickness of motion. Most people experience it their first time."
I look over at Traylor, but he seems none the worse for wear.
Ursa shrugs with a smile. "Your brother is an anomaly, it would seem."
"You can say that again," I agree.
I look around the car at the other passengers. A few are watching us–including a scruffy looking dude with weeping sores–but they look away when my eyes find them. They give me the creeps. If it wasn't for Altair, I'd be pretty nervous on this trip.
To take my mind off the nausea, I turn back to Ursa. "We haven't had much time to talk since this all started," I say, conversationally. "There are a lot of things I'd like to ask you."
Ursa nods. "I thought you might." She stares at me expectantly.
I smile at her openness and begin. "How do you know my Father?" I ask. "Because from everything I know of the man, you are exactly the type of person he'd send to Judgment Square for heresy." I hesitate. "And he doesn't usually discriminate." The faces of both my Mother and Thomas Whiskeyjack flit through my mind.
Ursa clears her throat. "Well, to start, your Father is a famous man, even outside Krakelyn. Before I met him, I'd heard of him long before. Any man who would condemn his own wife to Judgment is certainly deserving of that notoriety."
I stop breathing, shocked. "I guess that shouldn't surprise me," I say. "It's not talked about much anymore, but everybody does seem to know the story."
"Do you, um, remember your Mother?" Ursa asks timidly. "Do you remember it happening?"
I shake my head. "I do remember my Mother, sort of, but I was very young when she died. I have images of her in my head, feelings, I guess. But I don't really know how accurate they are. She wasn’t around much." I pause. "My Father had sketches of her. Portraits. They probably influenced my perception of her."
Ursa nods, pulling her lips in. "A beautiful woman she was, with one unfortunate flaw. She managed to keep it hidden for years, even from your Father."
"She was missing a toenail," I reply, eyes downcast.
"You knew?" Ursa says.
I nod. "Yeah. Everybody in Krakelyn knows about it. It's practically legend. I never knew if my Father knew about it before it all went public though."
"He did, eventually," Ursa replies quickly. "And that's why he came to me for help. I was astonished. What he was asking me was in direct conflict with the religion he so fervently touted. In the end, I guess his love for your Mother won out over it."
I raise an eyebrow. I feel like Ursa is describing a man I've never met in my life. "Ok, but... How did he know you?"
Ursa hesitates, organizing her thoughts. "The people I was working for had a reputation. We were doing experiments on mutants in Eversummer, which was becoming an issue. Tampering with the human genome is Forerunner science and, as you know, the ways of the Forerunners are the ways of death. Riots broke out. Your Father led the charge to shut us down."
"That sounds about right," I confirm with a sheepish smirk. "What happened next?" I ask, the air suddenly feeling thick.
"To my astonishment, after shutting us down, your Father approached me and asked for my help," Ursa replies. "He begged me. He...he said if I did this thing, he would make sure our work continued at a more secure location. The lab in Everwinter."
I gasp. I hadn't known it, but I am right now traveling in my Mother's footsteps! My heart warms at the thought.
"Accept the proposal I did," Ursa continues. "And my closest colleagues came with me. We set to work on our mutation cure once more, using your Mother as our test subject."
My jaw is nearly on the floor. I hadn't known any of this! All this time, and I’d thought my Father heartless and cruel for Judging my Mother in the name of his so-called gods. I guess I was wrong. He'd actually blasphemed, going against his own dogma to try and save the woman he loved.
I suddenly wish my Father was here now.
"It didn't work though, did it?" I ask, the answer obvious but...
Ursa shakes her head. "We never had a chance to complete our experiments. We were driven out of Everwinter by the mutants and returned to Eversummer. It was during this time that the truth about your Mother came to be known publicly."
"How?" I ask, on the edge of my hay bale. Traylor has turned around too now, eyeing the mutant woman closely.
Ursa shakes her head. "I never knew exactly. At the time, it didn't matter to me. My experiments were over. The wrong people found out about your Mother's mutation, and the truth got out. Your Father had little choice."
"He Judged her," I whisper, tears welling up.
Ursa nods. "If he didn't, your whole family would have fallen, especially with your Father being the High Deacon and all."
I shake my head, feeling anxiety at the terrible decision my Father had had to make. "Who did it?" I ask, anger suddenly rising to replace the sadness.
"Who did what, Juno?" Ursa asks, confused.
"Who ratted my Mother out?"
Altair shifts uncomfortably, moving for the first time since the ride began.
Ursa eyes the man warily. "I don't know, and it really doesn't matter, Juno," she says. "What's done is done."
"Well that's a bloody copout!" I protest, raising my voice a little too high.
"Ursa is right," Altair interjects, putting a hand on my shoulder as he moves beside me. "Knowing won't bring your Mother back. It will only make you grow bitter and hateful toward the person who did it. Trust me, I know."
I scowl at Altair hard. "You sound like you know who it is." Altair rolls his eyes. "Well, do you?"
Altair nods reluctantly. "Your Father has told me, but it doesn't matter, Juno. The person responsible has suffered for it. Trust me in that."
I huff, and even Traylor's in on the argument now. "We deserve to know!" he wails. "I'm with Juno on this!"
Altair crosses his arms. "I'm sorry, guys, but this is something you're better off not knowing. That's my final word on it. Okay?"
I stick my tongue out at Altair, and Traylor laughs. I get up and join my brother on his hay bale, both looking outside again.
The landscape has changed dramatically in the few hours since our journey began. Lush tropical vegetation has given way to bleak stone outcroppings covered by occasional shrubs and moss. With a gasp, I realize that the sun is actually getting lower on the horizon! I've never seen it this low in my life!
We really are headed to Everwinter, land of eternal darkness.
This Engie only travels to the Fringes–the last bastion of Eversummer civilization. It is said that mutants who are discovered in Eversummer often flee to the Fringes before they can be Judged, seeking sanctuary in the far flung villages where the rule of the True Body Plan is less oppressive.
Less oppressive, but not absent.
The Engie's shrill horn suddenly sounds; three long, hard blasts. The warning repeats. "What does that mean?" I ask, whirling back toward Altair and Ursa. They both look clueless, however. I glance over to one of the other corners in the car where a pair of mutants is quickly rummaging through a rucksack, producing a familiar looking tank and mask.
Air!
"I think we're entering a patch of Bleaklands!" I announce, turning back. Altair looks despondent, but he relaxes when Ursa pulls out her own portable breathing cylinder.
"I don't know how much longer this tank will last," Ursa announces, "but we can share it and hopefully make it through the Bleakpatch. It shouldn't take long for the Engie to cross it."
Unless it's a really big one, I think but don't say.
We wait and, indeed, as the Engie enters a steep walled canyon, the air becomes noticeably thinner, harder to breathe. Traylor takes the first shot of air, followed by me, then Ursa herself. Altair holds off for the moment. It's still possible to breathe, but it's growing more difficult.
His face is going purple.
The Engine continues and we each take a few more breaths, Altair only taking one for every three we
take. Ursa shakes the cylinder, her eyes fearful. We don't talk, as that would waste air, but the implication is obvious. Our supply is getting low.
I look over and a few of the other passengers are passed out completely. There's nothing that can be done for them until we're out of this though. The scruffy looking mutant man and his companion are fine, sharing their tank with regularity. We're rationing as best we can, but we're all growing weaker. Bleaker.
Three more blasts of the whistle.
We're outside the patch!
Altair springs to his feet, nearly stumbling, grabbing the sliding door on the car and flinging it open. Air rushes in. There's not much of it at first, but the breeze grows steadily stronger. Breathing becomes easier. Altair collapses by the door, exhausted.
I see movement.
I turn to see the scruffy man and his companion getting up. I grow tense, ready to call out to Altair, but the men are only going to the other people in the car, offering them their air. I smile broadly at the gesture. It seems there still are good people left in this world...
I hear a sharp cry of pain and turn again to see the scruffy men wailing on the unsuspecting passengers, kicking them in the gut and face. Their victims go limp. I push up off the hay, readying myself for a confrontation, but my head swims. I fall to my knees immediately.
The scruffy men go over to the other corner where two more mutants, a man and a woman are stirring. They converse with the newcomers who get to their feet, their own breath tank now visible among their possessions. The new group of four share a laugh, then turn toward us.
These people are working together!
I hear a pained grunt and turn to see Altair stumbling weakly to his feet. With each breath I feel my strength returning, but it's not fast enough. Traylor and Ursa are like me, prone on the ground. Ursa is offering Traylor the last breath from her tank.
"No need to get up," one of the men sneers at Altair, landing a boot square in the man's stomach.
"NO!" I call out in protest. Another of the men laughs, grabbing me by the hair and pushing me down. Ursa and Traylor are likewise handled roughly. The bandits start going through our things.
"Spit ashes!" I curse at the one that grabbed me, actually spitting at the man.
"Enough!" the man counters, raising an open palm and slamming it hard against my cheek. Instantly, I feel the dried fruit and mud paste crack against my skin, falling away.
My disguise.
"What the bloody ashes is this?" the man asks, kneeling down to take a closer look. He reaches out and grabs my cheek, peeling away more of the mask, revealing the unblemished skin beneath. The man's face goes pale as he stands upright, hand to his mouth. "You... You're not a mutant," he says in shock. "You're... You're..."
"Human," I finish for him between gritted teeth. "The last human." I look over at Traylor. One of the bandits–a woman–is poking at his mask now too.
The man above me has a knife in his hands, pointing it directly toward me. "Gods!" he exclaims to his companions. "Do you guys know what we could get for her! Aren't the Children of Mutanity looking for a human?"
The woman shrugs. "I thought that was just a story to justify their brutality?"
"So did I," the scruffy man agrees. "I– Hey!"
The formless lump on the floor that had originally been Altair is now a blur, hands striking the woman, then the man next to Ursa, taking them both down in seconds.
The man above me snarls, grabbing my arm and moving the knife toward my throat. "NO!" I scream yet again and, without thinking, put my full weight forward, striking his stomach with surprising force. He stumbles backward, straight out the open door of the Engie compartment.
But he's not alone.
He's got me by the tunic and doesn't let go, taking me with him as we fly off into oblivion.
