Saga
Page 18
The others were tense as they watched Milan come down, the last of us. Just a minute more and we were clear. It was a long minute, even though Milan was efficiently moving himself down the cable, hands then feet, like the motion of a caterpillar. The weight of those who had gone before had stretched and distorted the black line, so that Milan had to come up from below the lip of the roof wall, legs first, almost above his head. Once his boots were within reach, we hauled him in. Before we went inside, I cut the cable with the laser, about halfway up. It might take them an extra few moments to figure out how we had escaped; with a bit of luck, they might mistakenly conclude from the length of the remaining cable that we had lowered ourselves to a window in Heslington House.
Chapter 22
THE ASSASSIN WHO WOULD BE KING
“I don’t get it.” Jay waved his hand for emphasis, accidentally bashing it against the low roof with a curse. “Why would anyone want to kill us?”
I supposed it was only natural that, having been exposed to dangerous windy heights, everyone was happy to be in the womb of our tank, even if it was a bit cramped.
No one answered; they were looking at me, though.
“Perhaps the Dark Queen considers Defiance a threat to her rule?” I offered, but knew even as I spoke that this reason was inadequate.
It was strange having Jay back with us. For one thing, I now noticed that Athena and Nathan spoke a lot less when he was around. I hadn’t wanted to bring Carter and Jay to the tank. After all, it was one of our safest places, and I didn’t quite trust them not to want to run home and reveal all they knew. But we could hardly turn them away after that escape.
“Maybe it’s the crimes we’ve done?” Carter suggested unhappily.
Jay swiveled in his chair to check that everyone was paying attention. “What? Have us executed for a few mall raids? No way.” He paused. “I wonder if she was going to use that gun. Maybe they were just arresting us.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t have shot them?” I could hear the defensive tone in my voice. Usually we came to our decisions as a group. My killing those APC people had implicated everyone, and it had been my responsibility alone. There had been no time. Only now could we talk about it, and I needed to hear that the others backed me up.
“Maybe. Maybe she was threatened by us, wanted to cover us while she talked.” There was a high-pitched pleading tone to Jay’s voice. His eyes were moist, and he blinked rapidly as he spoke.
“Jay, she was going to use that gun. You should be thanking Ghost for your life.” Milan was in Arnie’s seat, drinking a high-calorie shake that he had got from a vending machine. I twisted around, relieved, giving him a nod to convey my appreciation. “What amazes me is that the Dark Queen had her people inside the APC. All these years, the punk gigs, the squats, silent parties, the ravecasts, everything.” Milan wiped his mouth. “She knew all about it.”
Carter nodded in agreement. “Yeah, creepy.”
For a while, we were silent. I was waiting for Jay, to see what he would say next. I could tell he wasn’t done; he was all agitation, where the rest of us were slumped in our chairs, drained and withdrawn after our escape from danger.
“I was so jealous of you all. Being outlaws, winning the aircar race in a tank, living outside the system. But it’s horrible. Sooner or later, you’re going to get caught and jailed for life, if not executed.” Jay shook his head, downcast, and I suddenly understood what was behind his talk. He was afraid. “I wish I wasn’t here. There’s nothing for us now but to live like rats until we are caught.”
I didn’t want the others to be affected by this sentiment, so I tried to put a cheerful note into my voice. “Actually, I rather enjoyed that. We’ve invented a new sport. Roof swinging!”
From behind me, Milan gave an amused snort.
“Ghost, you are one cold-hearted beast.” Carter’s eyes were wide with amazement at my nonchalance.
From her command position in the center of the tank, where she had been checking the channels in case the death of the two APC people had made its way into newscasts, Athena called out sharply, cutting across the conversation. “Check your screens. I’m feeding you all a newscast you really should see.”
The forwarded images were live broadcasts. They showed all traffic at a standstill by a major junction. At first, I wasn’t sure what we were seeing; then the helicopter or remote camera flew in closer. An enormous body of people filled the streets, marching and chanting the length of ten blocks. Their voices echoed up among the tall buildings either side of them. Their handmade banners held slogans like YELLOW CARDS FOR ALL! WE WORK THE HARDEST BUT WE GET THE LEAST! RED AND ORANGE UNITE! The shouts and chants were confused but for the most popular one, which came through clearly: “Yellow cards for the masses, not just for the ruling classes!” The images and sound cut away to a news studio, where the presenters seemed uncomfortably aware that their own immaculate hair and makeup contrasted with the wild energy of the street scene.
“The latest guilds to join the strike are Honor Bound and Warriors of Nobility. Path of Virtue, however, has split, expelling all red and orange members. For more on this, we have Jason Matherson, our guild analyst.”
“Thanks, Rachel. What we have seen in the last twenty-four hours can be interpreted as a realignment of the guild system. Although theoretically all guilds were open to cardholders of all colors, in practice, they tended to concentrate in particular areas. So the recently demised Ancient Honor, for example, consisted mostly of blues or even indigos. The fast-growing Defiance is made up almost entirely of reds. The demand for the immediate distribution of yellow cards to the entire population is one that is evidently precipitating a clarification as to where each individual guild stands with regard to the color of its membership.”
“Thanks, Jason. And can we expect to see more guilds joining the demonstrations in the near future?”
“Well, there are only some twenty guilds marching at the moment. This leaves the vast majority as neutrals, or, as one guild leader said to me, waiting and watching. A lot will depend on how the authorities respond.”
“And for that reaction we have a statement from the Grand Vizier.”
The picture cut again to the delicate man whom we had last seen on the victory podium of the aircar race, standing waiting to give out the prizes. He was announcing the disband-ment of certain guilds and the arrest of their officers.
Athena turned down the sound. “Interesting. Good, in fact.”
“Mmmm,” agreed Milan, his mouth momentarily full. “Anyone wanna go? We could bring the tank.”
Nath and I chuckled, but Jay stared at him in alarm.
“It’s crazy. There’s no way the Dark Queen is going to give everyone yellow cards. Who would do the work then? Everything would fall apart.”
“Says the man with the yellow card,” Nathan pointed out quietly.
“Jay, you know what I was doing from the age of eleven?” Athena came in a moment later, more angrily.
“I’ve no idea.”
“I was spraying foam filling into stuffed animals. Thirty hours a week, rising to fifty on my sixteenth birthday.”
“Really?” There was a gentle laugh in Nathan’s voice. “So now we know why you head for the toy shops on mall raids.”
That recalled one of our first raids, where Athena had indeed torn apart a room full of furry bears, tigers, and rabbits, leaving the place full of whirling foam and deflated skins. For a moment, we felt like a gang again.
“How come you only scored red in the exam?” Milan asked her.
Athena snorted derisively. “Everyone knows they’re rigged.”
“Hey, Ghost, did you take the exam? You would have scored more than a red, right?” Carter was sitting at the chair across from mine, looking at me with interest.
I shrugged. “My memories start at ten or so. Possibly after the test, but I think more likely I didn’t do it. Seeing as I can’t even remember my name, there’s no way I can remember my school. And the
re are no records of me. Nothing that matches at all. Nor did I have an identity card among my things to tell me what color I was.”
“Strange,” he mused, but in a more offhand way than matched the powerful feelings of insecurity I had just stirred up in myself.
Athena called out again: “Here’s something else.” Our screens flickered, and we could follow her moves as Athena scrolled through chat forums. All over them, whether the topic was “boarding,” “the aircar race,” or just general news, were new threads that had been posted by Cindella. They were identical: Ghost, I really need to talk to you. Please get in touch.
“Cool. I’d like to talk to her again, too. But how can we set up a meeting without the whole world knowing about it?” I looked around for ideas. The interior of the tank was dark; for safety’s sake, we had the engine off and were lit only by bubble-plastic lights. The others looked pale and blank.
“Set up a thread of our own, with a password that we can give her clues for, that only she would know?” offered Nath.
“Yeah, something like that, but not a thread. There’s no public board that is totally secure, and you can be certain the Dark Queen has them all monitored. We could try to set up a private one, but how would she know where to look for it?” Athena was thinking aloud, a familiar distracted expression on her face. “But the password, clue, that gives me an idea. Suppose we post a map of a nice big area. Say near where all those demonstrations are. The map has grid references, see?” As she talked, she quickly manipulated her computer, showing us what she meant. “So now we just need to think of a question that we can post in public, but to which only she will know the answer. The answer should be a word that can be converted to a map reference.”
“Let’s see. What did she talk about?” I wondered. She had chatted away in a friendly manner at that party, but her talk was full of nonsense.
“A medusa?” suggested Nathan.
Athena nodded, still looking at the screen. “Good. So, our message reads: ‘Greetings, Cindella. When we last met, you described a fight with a certain creature. Please split the name of the creature in two, convert it to a number with the system that A equals 1, B equals 2, and so forth. Then meet us at the point on this map indicated by the reference x equals the first part of your answer, y equals the second.’” On her map appeared an x arrow for the horizontal grids and a y arrow for the vertical. “Here, Milan, have a go at this. If you can figure it out, anyone can.”
“I’ve got it.” Nathan was pleased with himself.
“Yeah, yeah.” Milan sat up while he worked it out. “MEDUSA. That’s 1354, 21191. Right?”
“Right,” responded Athena brightly. “Now all we need to do is align the map so that 1354, 21191 refers to someplace that suits us for the meeting. How about this launderette?”
“Sure.” It looked good and innocuous to me. Athena adjusted the map to fit.
“I’ll post that the meeting should be later today, at the same time as the first coordinate, and there we go.” Athena sent the post with relish. “Let the Dark Queen and her people tear their hair out over that. It’s open to the whole world to read it, but it won’t do them any good. Even if they tried to guess at the name, there are thousands of possibilities. Plus, they will hardly think to guess mythical creatures!”
A knock on the outside of the tank made everyone jump.
“Anyone home? It’s Michelotto.”
It was uncanny how he had got so close to us without being heard, even if we were distracted and our screens tuned to Athena’s rather than the external view. Milan climbed out of his open hatch, so the rest of us did the same.
There was something extremely odd about this old man. Not just the strange juxtaposition of a fashionable black suit on the body of a very wrinkled and frail-looking figure. It was something about the air surrounding him, which appeared opaque. In that respect, he was different from everyone else I’d ever met. Normally I am acutely aware of other people, their breathing, their eyes. Even unconsciously I have a feel for the body language of the people around me, and I can monitor their movements without following them with my eyes. But not Michelotto. If I didn’t pay close attention, he disappeared. The sensation was unpleasant and something of a strain.
Michelotto stood below us, smiling, until he saw Jay and Carter.
“More of you?”
“Yeah. The full gang,” Milan answered, a hint of defiance in his voice.
“I see.” Michelotto shrugged.
“So, do you know why the Anarcho-Punk Collective leaders might want to kill us?” I asked him.
“Do they? How do you know that?”
“Don’t you just hate people who answer a question with a question?” muttered Athena, loud enough that Michelotto could hear her. I smiled at her. She didn’t trust him, either.
“We were at their silent party to celebrate our win. They asked us upstairs and two of them were getting set to kill us when Ghost shot them.” Milan paused for effect, but Michelotto didn’t look in the slightest way surprised. “They asked about you first, by the way.”
“I see.” He nodded. “Then they were working for the Dark Queen.”
“And why does she want us dead?” I asked.
“She and I are engaged in a battle to the death. It is like a game of chess to her. She must believe that you are a piece of mine, so she wants to neutralize you. She might even have guessed who you are. I had rather hoped to surprise her, but she is very astute.”
“Who we are?” Athena took up the very phrase that had caused me to stiffen.
“Not you collectively. I mean her, Ghost.”
“And who am I?” My voice was soft, nervous.
“Does the name Thetis mean anything to you?” His eyes bore into mine.
“No.”
“Curious. You are telling the truth.”
“Who is Thetis?” In our last encounter I had kept quiet, but since Michelotto’s attention was on me, I no longer had anything to lose by not staying in the background, and, so it felt now, I might have a lot to gain from talking to Michelotto.
“Saga, our world, once had nearly two thousand people who had been reprogrammed with extraordinary abilities, the RAL. These RAL have fought each other for centuries until there are but two left, the Dark Queen and myself. Thetis was a RAL who disappeared about six years ago. I had my reasons for thinking that you might be her in disguise.”
“Reasons?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“The RAL can control their local environment to a far greater extent than a non-RAL. And only a RAL could have won that battle at the aircar race.”
Six years. My memories began six years ago. A coincidence? Surely not. I had been standing on the tank; now I sat down, cross-legged, and wondered. There must be some kind of connection; I did feel my abilities were special. Was I a RAL?
“Who is this old man?” Jay pushed himself into the conversation. He wouldn’t have liked being left out for so long.
“I am Michelotto, former assassin of the Dark Queen, future Dark King of this world, and noisy, rude boys do not impress me.”
I rather liked the scary effect of Michelotto’s words, but Jay was one of our gang, for all his faults, and there was a paternal-istic arrogance to those words that was an insult to us all. Jay had his mouth half-open with a retort but thought better of it.
“Dark King, huh?” Milan was smiling, but the kind of humorless grin he put on when in conflict with other lads.
“Yes. That or death. There is no longer room for both the Queen and me in this world, and, if I win, I may as well be king.”
Up on the tank, we shared a few uncertain glances. It was Nathan who spoke for us all. “So, what do you want from us?”
“I want her help to assassinate the Dark Queen.” Michelotto pointed at me, causing my heart to leap with the intensity of his stare. “The rest of you would almost certainly die if you were in the same proximity as the Dark Queen, and I therefore want nothing from you.”
“Don’t they?” Michelotto scowled at him. “Have you been watching the newscasts?”
“Sure. And I didn’t see any marchers with placards saying SOME BALD OLD GEEZER FOR KING!” Carter was genuinely angry, and I was impressed. Personally I found Michelotto too intimidating even to consider raising my voice in that way. Perhaps I was the only one aware of the strange aura around him, which revealed his power over the environment. To the others, he might have seemed nothing more than a rather doddery old man.
“Those guilds on the streets are my people. The Queen entered her castle. I’m forcing her out. She cannot remain on the defensive now; if she does, the protests will grow. It’s her move next, but whatever move she makes will give Ghost and me our chance.”
Jay shook his head. “This guy is the sprinklings on the birthday cake; he’s raving.”
The factory shuddered and a crow leaped out of the shadows, cawing and beating an erratic path to a hole in the roof; Michelotto had visibly made an effort to contain himself, limiting his response to a sigh. He appealed to me. “I would have thought it would suit you to be rid of the Dark Queen. After all, did you not say that she had the APC try to kill you?”
“Just suppose the Dark Queen were dead, and you were king.” Nathan was soft-spoken as always, but his tone was firm. “What else would change? Your guilds are calling for the abolition of the red and orange grades. Would you do that?”
“Why not?”
“Another question for a question,” pointed out Athena.
“My apologies. Let me speak more positively. There are other systems by which the productive needs of our society could be organized; whilst I personally have no particular preference, I can understand that those currently graded red would welcome a fairer distribution of the goods and services of the world. As king, I would indeed improve the situation of reds and oranges, possibly by abolishing their grades, or by making the higher-grade malls, accommodations, recreation, and health care available to them.” He shrugged. “It amounts to the same thing.”