by O. J. Lowe
Already the rhino was charging and he was thinking of ways to counter it. He could worry about that later. The ground beneath Crush’s feet churned as six hooked feet dug in, the crab ready to ground out the impact. This likely wouldn’t be pretty but it was his only option. Somehow, he doubted Crush was quick enough to run a race with this thing. But at the same time, the crab probably was strong enough to stand and fight.
At this point, he didn’t want to draw it out. He needed it over as quickly as possible but he couldn’t take risks. Not stupid ones. The sound of impact made him wince, neither of the two spirits were lightweights but he’d seen Crush being forced back by the weight behind the charge.
That was unsettling.
“You do seem to have been a busy man since this started.”
Nick looked up at the sound of the voice and fought the urge to salute as Terrence Arnholt strode past in casual clothes, his gaze tracing out towards the room where Wade lay unconscious, bandages across his face. They’d been coated in alska-salve, the hospital has really pulled out all the stops. Guess there were some slight perks to nearly being killed in action, he thought bitterly as he made the effort to swallow it all down before the imminent conversation.
“Just doing my job, sir,” he said. It sounded civil. He was proud of his efforts. “Besides, we got the call to action.”
If he heard it, Arnholt didn’t acknowledge it. “What happened?”
“Okay so Wade and I were talking after his bout and we got a call off Agent Okocha saying there was a sighting of… Well something in the resort area. We were the closest so could we go have a look. Anyway, we went over, saw it and decided to wait it out. When it turned violent, it looked like it was going for something else up there, we decided to fly up and investigate. And it escalated.”
Arnholt nodded. “Things frequently do seem to escalate where you’re concerned.” It didn’t sound overtly critical but still Nick chose to brush it off. “At least you didn’t murder anyone this time.”
“Heh.” Nick didn’t sound amused. Bringing up Blut didn’t help his mood. It was starting to feel like no matter what he did, that was going to keep lingering around his neck like a bloody millstone. It had happened in the past. He’d been dealt with over it. They could let it go now. But no, people kept wanting to bring it up and up. They always missed the point with it as well. Sure, he’d died. But it had been a key sacrifice so that others wouldn’t. He’d only been thinking of the bigger picture. Doubtless that was what had saved him, that it had achieved results. So why did he still feel uneasy about the whole thing? He couldn’t say.
“Yeah. He’ll be fine. Just needs a few days of alska treatment for burns. That bitch hit his dragon with a uniblast at point blank range, it took him out. Nearly hit the ground pretty hard but I managed to catch him.”
“Yes?” Somehow, he knew what Arnholt was about to ask next. And he wasn’t disappointed by it. “And you let the suspect flee the scene?”
“I didn’t let her.” He’d already considered this more times than he wanted to admit and it hurt knowing that Arnholt had a point. Could he have… Maybe… So many variables that had come into play. The woman had had a distance on him and her spirit was no slouch. Could he have caught her? No way of saying. “I made a decision under fire. There was a thousand other things I could have done and whatever I decided to do, we’d have been having this conversation. If I’d let him fall and failed to catch her, it’d have been worse. If I’d let him fall and caught her, it’d be the death of my partner on my conscience…”
“And now you’ve let her go, what of what she does next? How does the weight of her future acts hold on your conscience?”
“I’ll let you know when the future comes to pass,” Nick said solemnly. “I don’t hold guilt for maybes. I’ve got enough of that for the stuff I have done without worrying about maybes. Even if we had caught her, what’s the penalty for unauthorised spirit battling in the street? A five hundred credit fine at most? What difference would it make?”
“It’s not your job to decide what should be enforced and what shouldn’t,” Arnholt said severely. “And it wasn’t just that, was it?” He left the rest unsaid, something Nick was privately relieved at for the moment.
“I know. I know.”
“You talk to the victim?”
“Not yet,” Nick said. “Truth be told, I’d rather not. But I will.”
“Rather not?” Arnholt raised an eyebrow.
“Luke Maddley’s kid. Been saying some stuff about my fiancé. Might find the temptation to give him a smack in the mouth a little too tempting.”
“I trust you can remain professional?” Somehow Arnholt managed to keep the linger of a threat there in his voice and Nick smiled.
“Always professional,” he said. “It’s me. Don’t worry about me keeping my personal feelings in the way of duty. I will talk with Maddley, I’ll see if I can catch anything that’ll get us to catch this bitch.” To that, he couldn’t miss the small smirk on his boss’s face.
“Hence why Wade’s in the hospital rather than the morgue and our cells are empty rather than having a perp in there.”
That stung a little but he held his tongue. Anyone else, he’d really have toyed with
taking a swing at them. He’d have enjoyed that. Especially if it were someone capable of fighting back. It had been too long since he’d taken a punch. Taking a swing at Arnholt wouldn’t help the situation at all.
“Good trade I think,” Nick said. “We don’t have so many agents as to throw them away on stuff like that. I think you’re right. It shouldn’t have escalated the way it did. Maybe we could have handled it differently.”
“It’s a bit late for recrimination now,” Arnholt said stiffly. “Just a little.”
“Not a lot I can do about that,” Nick replied.
“You know; I’m starting to worry about your judgement while out here. Your decisions lately… They’ve been a little questionable.”
“If you don’t want me in the field,” Nick said. “You’ve only got to say. You want me to resign, Director?”
That changed the atmosphere.
Nick sighed and leaned against the wall, looking through the window. Of course, Wade was going to be fine. A few burns, nothing serious, Will Okocha was already concocting a story about how he’d been hurt in the explosion at the ICCC building. If anything, he was glad that Arnholt hadn’t brought THAT up. Because that was the real crux of the matter. That woman on the leather bird-thing… She’d only fled and attacked because he and Wade had charged in. If they’d done things differently, that might not have happened. And right now, he felt worse about that than he did Wade’s injuries. None of it should have happened.
“Terrence,” he said slowly. Because it wasn’t just that. It was the whole Blut thing as well. Those memories hadn’t left him and even knowing it might well have been the right thing to do didn’t help much. In a fight, it was easier. You didn’t remember the faces when you were shooting at someone in the dark. You could shove it all down. Blut, there’d been no clear threat from him, just babbling that he’d interpreted. It all felt worse given he’d basically gotten away with it. Knowing you’d done right didn’t make things easier.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. For once in my life, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’d follow my judgement but we’ve seen where that’s been getting me lately.” He sighed again. Arnholt said nothing. “Look I mean I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
“The job? Or everything that follows?” Arnholt’s question cut to the crux of the issue and he had to admit he was right. Which was it? He’d never had a problem with the job before. He knew that there was a chance he might be killed in action. And yet that had never bothered him. Not half as much as the other stuff did, living with the consequences of action after, the idea that his identity might be compromised, that maybe it just wasn’t worth it.
“I don’t know anymore. When I see Wade like that,
I think that it could be me. On another day, it might have been. I’m getting married in a few months, Terrence and…” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know how you did it. How you managed to sustain a marriage and kids for all the time you have.”
Arnholt nodded. “It is a sad fact of our line of work that men and women with no attachment make the most effective operatives. Those who have nobody to live for. It doesn’t always apply but the few times it doesn’t often are the exceptions that prove the rule. Those who have something to lose are never quite as fearless in the face of the unknown. Yet I always looked it a different way, you know. That fear makes you faster, stronger, sharper. You have something to cling onto. A reason to keep on going when everything seems hopeless. Because it’s never hopeless. You have a job to do and it needs doing no matter the odds. Do or die. You should know by now that those are the choices.”
Nick nodded slowly. “I’m still not entirely sure, you know. I’ve been doing this a long time now, recently it feels like the job is… Not getting harder, that’s the wrong term. But I can’t quite explain it. It’s like carrying a great weight. I knew it wasn’t going to get easier to deal with the longer I went on.”
“Nick,” Arnholt said. “You’re a good agent. I don’t want to lose you. But if you’re no longer able to function properly in the field…” His voice took on a hard edge. “You’re useless to me. Consider yourself on leave. Get your head sorted out and if you don’t wish to stay then don’t. But I think leaving would be a waste of your considerable talents. We need you. We will continue to need people like you.”
That had never occurred to him. Leave Unisco? Could he do that? Would he want to? The rumours about the crucible exit existed, sure. But he doubted they were true. Not if Arnholt was giving him that ultimatum. He didn’t want to leave. He owed the place a lot. They’d done a lot for him.
But given the events of not just the last few weeks but the last few months, he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to stay either.
“I know you do. And I’ve never walked away from a fight. There’s no need to send me on leave. I’ll…”
“Only until the tournament is over. Think about it. That’s all I’m telling you,” Arnholt said. “No need to surrender your weapon and your badge. I just don’t want to see you again after you deliver the report on this incident as well as your interview with Maddley. Nick, this isn’t punishment. It’s necessity.”
Just because that might be the case didn’t stop it feeling like it was punishment. He sighed and offered a hand. “I know. I guess this is goodbye for now then.” Arnholt shook it and smiled sadly.
“For now. Remember, I don’t want to lose your services. But you must do what’s best for you. Distractions will get you killed. It’s all or nothing. Either you’re with us or you’re not. Think about that, Nick.”
As he turned to look at the room where Wade lay unconscious, Nick inwardly blanched. To be removed from active duty for the time being, even if it wasn’t permanent felt like a massive kick in the balls, no matter how Arnholt might deliver it. He stood up and made for the exit, not looking back at his boss. Besides a holiday from work might be just the thing he needed. It had been too long, he knew that much.
The rhino went down, one of Crush’s claws embedded deep into its skull and Scott punched the air. Four down one to go and for the first time in the bout, Steven looked a little concerned as he watched his spirit go back to its crystal. This could be fantastic. He was on the verge. All that stood in his way was one final hurdle. He could do this, scratch that, he would do it. No excuses.
Steven’s final spirit hit the mangled ground with a thud and Scott took it in for the first time and his heart fell. Oh crap!
He might not do it after all. Whatever it was, he’d never seen one before, it was huge. It looked like nothing he’d ever even seen before. Its body fashioned out of a dark blue metal, it stood towering above him on five giant legs the size of tree trunks around a body that was little more than an oval as it stood there staring at him through eyes twice the size of dinner plates. Two of those legs stuck out either side of the giant eyes, one at the back of its body, an unusual formation he had to note. When the mouth opened, he could see it was filled with giant triangular shaped teeth, shark-like in their appearance. Beyond those, its jaws were as dark and unforgiving as the mouth of any cave. It looked like a giant five-legged metal spider and he gulped. Crush wasn’t a small spirit by any means but the crab was dwarfed by the size of the enemy. As it thundered to the ground, he could see each of the five legs was tipped off by a trio of pointed claws that cut into the earth like butter.
“The mighty cavern crusher,” Steven said proudly. “Very rarely seen, very difficult to damage and this is where it ends for you.” They were the first words he’d said all bout, he had a vaguely aristocratic inflection to his voice, a certain snobby pride in his words. It made Scott want to smash him in the face. “Very few opponents can conquer this creature. Can you?”
He didn’t have time to consider the answer as the referee’s buzzer went and he cursed mentally, Steven had out-psyched him with the question. He’d spoken, distracted him and Scott had been too busy considering his words to contemplate a strategy. Stupid, stupid…
He was doing it again, the crusher tensed its legs and sprang into the air with a clumsy leap, Scott quickly traced the trajectory with his eyes and blanched, screaming for Crush to get out the way. It responded just a little too late, the crab did duck back but not fast enough, one of the giant legs smashing down into its back with crushing force. Smashed to the ground, Crush let out a shudder, utterly pinned by the weight. Suddenly feeling panic running through him, Scott tried to keep a lid on it, the claws whipped out at his command and flailed impotently at one of the standing legs. Unable to get much momentum behind them, they clanged off with a desolate sound. He wasn’t even sure if they’d left a scratch on the surface of the skin.
At the same time, he heard a cracking sound, for a moment he let his spirits rise that maybe they’d done something, all until he realised the source. It wasn’t coming from the crusher, it was coming from Crush, the weight still on the crab’s back and ever so gradually its thick shell was coming apart. If it broke, it would be all over.
Guess he didn’t have any choice in dealing with it then, he’d have to take his chances with what he could do for definite and let his last spirit take it home.
But now though… Crush’s jaws slowly slid open, the tell-tale vivid sheen of orange energy already forming. Maybe it’d be more effective if he could fire one down its gullet, burn it up from the inside. Pushing that strategy aside for the moment, he saw Steven’s eyes widen and as the uniblast erupted from Crush’s jaws, the cavern crusher sprang up into the air as if fired from a springboard, the blast sailing wide. But it was off the back of Crush and that was all he needed for the moment.
It took a great effort for the crab to rise to all six unsteady feet, only now could he see the cracked carapace where the crusher had dug in. It didn’t look pleasant, he forced himself not to look. Crush was wobbling on its feet, free or not he didn’t think it’d last much longer. Coming in on its rear three legs, the crusher went for the crab like a boxer, using its two front legs like fists and it was all Crush could do to stagger back out of reach for the moment. Another blow came. And another. And on the third blow, Crush caught the fist in a powerful pincer and Scott could see the exertion running through the shattered body as it dug in, trying its hardest to crush the arm in its grip.
It never saw the other arm coming and suddenly Crush was airborne, hurled up into the sky by a vicious uppercut, rising and rising until suddenly it was falling and suddenly Scott could feel the connection between the two of them fading. Crush was dying, might already be dead and there was nothing he could do about it.
Except… There was something there still, a faint hint of a spark and he seized it instantly, silently urging the crab on. One final blow was all he needed, it might be key
in the fight. For a moment, he held his breath as he studied the cavern crusher. It had to have a weak spot somewhere but…
Where?
He followed the outline of the body all around, nothing he could see…
The orange blur hit like a comet, he knew he was out of time and in absence of a specific target, Crush had done the next best thing and driven both those heavy claws hard into the cavern crusher’s face, the crash deafening. If it had done anything, he couldn’t say, Crush slipped down the face limply and came to fall at the feet of the opponent that had conquered it.
It was over and he wasn’t any closer than he had been at the start.
So, what now? It was a question he wasn’t entirely sure he had the answer to.
Chapter Thirty-Two. The Bowels of Her Castle.
“It’s about more than just society. That’s the whole, I want to think about the parts. The pieces that make up the whole. Because without the sum of the parts, the whole is nothing. Think of a machine. A dozen tiny pieces all working together in concert to ensure that everything works perfectly. If just one goes wrong, the whole thing will come grinding to a halt. That is the true of society. Introduce just one flawed element into the way the whole thing works and it churns to a halt. Change has been conceptualised. Be it permanent or only temporary, there it is. An actual difference exists with the potential for better or worse.”
John Cyris pushing his Freedom Triumphant philosophy to listeners.
The tenth day of Summerpeak.
Had it been the right thing to do? She’d considered the question for hours now, hours that had stretched out in her head, constantly demanding that the whole thing kept to the forefront of her mind. The first line in the sand had been drawn. She’d attacked. She’d made the first move. She’d declared war on Unisco in the name of advancing her goals. Had it been the right thing to do? Perhaps not. Maybe she could have stretched out the first inevitable confrontation for a time further down the line. After all, she had made her move and it could have backfired spectacularly. She could have been killed. By all rights, on another day, she probably would have been.
