Dragon_Bridge & Sword_The Final War

by JC Andrijeski

  Menlim gave a concessionary nod without confirming any of Revik’s implied questions.

  Leaning back, he gestured with one hand.

  “Go on,” he said, his voice polite.

  Revik let his hand glide into another seer’s gesture of concession.

  “If that is true,” he continued. “Then using me in such a way is not a workable option for you. Not unless you already have my wife, and are able to put us in reasonable proximity to one another.” His voice hardened. “But you don’t have my wife. Nor do I ever intend to allow you to take custody of her.”

  “Again,” Menlim said, exhaling in some impatience. “Why would that be much more than an inconvenience, brother? I could simply drug you. Throw you on a plane. Make you conscious once we have you within a reasonable proximity to your wife.”

  Revik held out his hands in a so what? gesture.

  Giving an impatient flick of his fingers, he frowned at the aged seer.

  “To what purpose?” he said. “Which brings me to the real reason I am not concerned. If you had me kill my wife, she would be dead, yes. My daughter would be dead. I would also no longer work for you. Which means the outcome would be the same as if I had not come here at all, for clearly that was your intention before I arrived here… to hunt down and murder me and my family. I am offering you a different option.”

  Shrugging, he added,

  “By agreeing to my terms, you lose nothing. Yet you gain the benefit of my services. Even if I did not die via the bond, I would no longer be a willing servant to you, either.”

  Menlim nodded, his eyes expressionless. “So you simply wish me to end this conflict with your wife? To call a cease-fire, so to speak?”

  Revik nodded, emphatic.

  “Yes,” he said. “End it. Let them colonize a remote part of this world. Sign a fucking treaty if it reassures you both––I don’t care. But end it. She is not a threat to you. She and her people have no interest in fighting over the spoils, or starting a war with organized crime lords in Asia or Mexico or anywhere else. They do not have the manpower or weaponry to establish linked colonies anyway––even if they desired such a thing.”

  Revik made another expansive gesture with his hands.

  “They simply wish to grow and perpetuate their own kind, like any species,” he said, his voice subdued. “Let them do it in peace. They will not touch your numbers, not for centuries, if ever. Certainly not in any number of generations you and I might imagine––”

  Menlim was already clicking softly, shaking his skull-like head.

  “This is not the Bridge’s charter on this world, brother––” he began, quiet.

  “Nor is committing suicide unnecessarily,” Revik retorted. “You won, Menlim. Be a little fucking gracious about it. Leave my family alone.”

  Menlim only looked at him, unblinking.

  His yellow eyes grew a sharper glint.

  “In exchange for you?” he said. “…or as much of yourself as you will give me?”

  Revik nodded. “Yes.”

  “And your wife is all right with this?” he said, softer still.

  Revik let out a humorless laugh.

  “No,” he retorted. “Of course she isn’t ‘all right’ with it. But I made it crystal fucking clear to her what would happen if she did not go along with me on this. She loves our daughter too, brother… arguably more than she loves me. She knows how serious I am about protecting more than simply their physical lives, or a single incarnation of their lights. She knows it was not an empty threat. I released her from all vows. She will not dispute this.”

  At the mention of vows, Ute looked over sharply.

  Glancing at her, Revik saw her frown, disbelief in her eyes.

  Ignoring her, Revik turned back to Menlim.

  “She will not fight it,” he repeated. “I know her, and she will not. Not anymore. She and I spoke in confidence before I did this, in one of the Barrier containment tanks. Months ago. None of the others knew what I intended, but Alyson did. The note was for them, not her.”

  His voice thickened when he looked up, even as anger touched his words.

  “She already knew, Menlim,” he said again. “…and given my threats and arguments, in the end, she agreed to let me go. In the end, she even agreed it might be the only way we could reliably keep our daughter safe. For the same reason, she and I agreed to dissolve our union. Out of necessity.”

  He made a “more or less” gesture with one hand.

  “The bond cannot be dissolved of course,” he added, staring at the carpet. “But as that is the main leverage I have over her, the continued presence of that bond works more to your advantage than not, I would think.”

  Revik glanced up, meeting Menlim’s gaze.

  He still couldn’t read anything there, but he hadn’t expected he would.

  Gesturing with a hand, he added, “Before I left, I asked brother Balidor to train me in advanced shielding techniques. Essentially, the same techniques he taught my wife when she infiltrated me at the Rebel compound. I asked my biological aunt, Tarsi, for help in the same. Between the two of them, I should now be able to keep most of my private life, as well as the work I do for you, away from my ex-wife’s light…”

  Swallowing at what he’d just called her, he shrugged again with his hand.

  “…Particularly if you aid me to that end by granting me access to elements of your shielding from your own construct,” he finished gruffly.

  That time, the silence stretched longer.

  Revik stared at the carpet through it, hands clasped between his knees.

  He fought not to think about how they might be reacting to his proposal––or to whatever they might be reading off his light.

  He had nothing to hide, not anymore.

  Rather than trying to second-guess where Menlim might take things next, he instead focused on minute details in the places where his gaze rested. The pale yellow-orange of the rug was a lighter shade of the tiger skin’s tawny fur. It was not dissimilar to the color of Terian’s eyes back when he’d been the dominant personality split from Feigran’s aleimi.

  Revik found himself remembering the tiger skin rug on the wall of that faux-colonial bar on the cruise ship he and Allie rode most of the way to Alaska.

  But he couldn’t think about that right then, either.

  Wincing from the memory, he cleared his throat.

  He adjusted his seat on the leather chair right as Menlim spoke, breaking the silence.

  “All right, brother,” Menlim said. “I confess, you have piqued my interest.”

  He let that hang briefly, then slowly rose to his feet.

  The other seers on the tiger-skin couch rose on either side of him, pulling their clothes and weapons straight as they regained their feet.

  Revik remained seated.

  Menlim stared down at him, a harder look touching his mouth. “I will give you tonight to rest. Tomorrow we will begin the assessments I require before we begin negotiations for real. Is that objectionable to you, brother?”

  Revik made a negative gesture with one hand. “No.”

  “Good,” Menlim said.

  Exhaling, the old seer frowned again, still studying Revik’s face and body. Then he shook his head, as if shaking off a stray thought. He motioned for the others to head for the door. He stood there as they began to comply, again studying Revik’s face.

  “Use the wall monitor if you require anything, brother,” he said. “The kitchen is available twenty-four hours.” Pausing, he added with more bite, “We also have a fine array of unwillings on staff, brother… seer and human. I imagine that, now that you are single once more, you will be availing yourself of their services. Assuming we can work out the details of your employment to our mutual satisfactions?”

  Revik felt his jaw harden.

  He didn’t answer.

  He did catch Ute staring at him after Menlim said it.

  Studiously avoiding looking at any of them now, Revi
k remained in the leather chair, his hands clasped in front of him. He didn’t change posture as they filed out of the apartment in silence. Nor did he move his eyes from the carpet.

  He still hadn’t moved minutes later, after the door had closed firmly behind them.

  19

  AMERICA

  I AM AWAKE.

  The voice whispered it.

  Quiet as light.

  Quiet as dark.

  I am awake. Now that I am awake, I cannot sleep.

  I cannot.

  You must come to me.

  Come to me, my sister, for I cannot do the rest alone.

  COLD WIND HIT me in a sharp blast as I walked alone down the lowering metal ramp.

  Focusing out over the empty tarmac spread in front of me, I looked for signs of life. The entire airstrip appeared to be deserted, even compared to what I’d seen on the satellite images and surveillance on the way here.

  I didn’t even see any birds.

  The ramp hadn’t fully extended by the time I reached the end.

  I didn’t wait, but released the safety bar and jumped the rest of the way down, my eyes still on the horizon. I landed on my boots, feeling it up to my knees.

  I’d been sitting way too long.

  It was more than that though, and I knew it.

  Looking around at the mountains surrounding the small, private air strip, I felt a weird blip somewhere in my lower belly. Somehow, this felt more like coming home than that op Revik and I did together in San Francisco––or even my last time in New York.

  Maybe I’d just been away longer this time.

  Or maybe enough of the chaos had cleared from the surface of the land that I could feel the land itself again. Either way, it hurt a softer part of my light, looking at those familiar, snow-covered mountains.

  Aunt Carol lived out here for a few years while I was growing up, so I actually knew this part of the country a little.

  No planes broke the silence, apart from the whirring and powering down of the ancient propeller engines of the cargo plane I’d just exited.

  I didn’t hear any cars, or so much as a car radio.

  Granted, we were pretty far out of the city.

  We’d landed at a private airstrip just north of the town of Fort Collins, coming in via an even smaller town a few hundred miles west of Quebec City. We’d needed to stick to the outskirts of any even semi-organized human settlements in both cases, but especially here, being so close to NORAD-monitored airspace.

  I hoped we’d gotten an accurate map of the sensors they had monitoring ground and air traffic. Even eighty miles north of Denver felt dangerously close.

  Of course, if they still had access to satellite feeds, they’d know we were here already.

  Another gust of wind whipped my hair and face, cutting through my clothes. That shock of cold air surprised me, even as it hit me that I hadn’t been anywhere but tropical climates for the past ten months. And yes, it was February in the Rocky Mountains, so of course it would be cold––but somehow that possibility never occurred to me.

  I think our coldest day in Thailand was around eighty-nine degrees Fahrenheit.

  Four weeks. Nearly four weeks had passed since the morning I woke up in Bangkok with a note tied to my arm.

  I forced the thought out of my light.

  It was early here yet, maybe seven in the morning.

  I knew the temperature would rise some as the day wore on, but it wouldn’t get warm. We’d need jackets during the day and likely thermals at night, especially since our sensors showed they didn’t have power many places out here.

  Glancing over my shoulder when the metal ramp thunked onto the tarmac, I saw Jorag’s blue eyes right as his face broke into a smile. We’d met up with him and Chandre just outside of Mumbai, doubling the numbers of each of our smaller groups.

  Before I could say anything, he tossed something at me.

  I caught it, more in surprise than anything, and nearly lost my balance.

  “Bridge’s too good to carry her own clothes,” Jorag snorted, glancing over his shoulder at Neela, who walked behind him. “She’ll be wanting us to wash her underwear next.”

  Neela rolled her eyes in exaggerated seer fashion, clicking at him.

  “Like you wouldn’t totally get off on that.” She winked at me. “…Dugra t’ pervert.” Passing by him with her own satchel, she smacked him sharply on the shoulder with the flat of her hand. “Bridge’s not lazy. Just the boss. We only brought you as a pack animal anyway, Joro. You’re not good for much else.”

  I fought to smile.

  “The Bridge is just paranoid,” I told them. “…and okay, a little lazy, but mostly paranoid.” My eyes shifted back to the empty expanse of tarmac, focusing on the small control tower in the distance. “I wanted to make sure we hadn’t missed any… company, I guess.” Shrugging, I added, glancing back, “Anyway, I figure telekinetics out first, right?”

  Jorag snorted.

  Before he could reply, Surli spoke up from behind him.

  “Likely story,” he said.

  He gave me a faint smile, too.

  I saw more scrutiny in his calico-colored eyes, however. I also noticed he wore his rifle out. Meaning where he could actually use it, unlike Jorag, and despite the heavy weapons bag Surli carried over his own shoulder.

  “…but it’s reassuring to know you can think on your feet,” Surli added.

  I shook my head, clicking in mock irritation. My eyes returned to the horizon as I did. I couldn’t feel anything. Nothing bad anyway.

  Not anything good really, either.

  I looked back towards the plane’s rear ramp right around the time Dalejem appeared. He had the most important piece of cargo with him, I noticed. Collared, shivering already despite wearing at least four layers of shirts, all of them a few sizes too big, Feigran crouched next to the big-shouldered seer, looking like he expected to be hit any second.

  Watching Feigran look from Dalejem to the other seers in our group, I frowned.

  Balidor had an absolute fit when I told him I was bringing Feigran with me.

  Which… of course he did. I expected that.

  I got lectures. Well, if you could call them lectures. I basically had to listen to four or five seers yelling at me, more or less at the same time, for six or seven hours. The only one who hadn’t weighed in was Tarsi. She just looked at me in that way of hers, as if reading something on my light I couldn’t even see myself.

  The tank wasn’t practical to bring with us, of course.

  When I told them I’d make do with high-grade sight restraint collars and one of our mobile construct cages instead, Balidor, Wreg, Jon, Poresh, Yumi––even Vikram––upped their arguments from strident-bordering-on-condescending to full blown alarmist-verging-on-hysterical.

  Reminding them that the tank didn’t hold Feigran’s aleimi much better than a sight-restraint collar did, didn’t really help my case.

  In the end I had to do what I always did when my “advisory team” didn’t agree with one of my strongly-felt decisions.

  I had to ignore all of them.

  I knew they thought I’d lost my mind by then anyway.

  “Are we up then, Bridge?” another voice asked, female that time.

  I glanced over, meeting Talei’s gaze.

  Chandre hadn’t been thrilled I’d brought her.

  Again, I’d known she wouldn’t be when I made the decision, but I wanted her here. This wasn’t a military op in the strictest sense––not yet, at least. For now it remained purely an infiltration job and, potentially anyway, an attempt at diplomatic negotiation. Talei had intel and connections I could use for both of those things. She’d been affiliated with the Washington D.C. branch of SCARB for years.

  She’d also worked for the Secret Service, including in oversight of the White House construct under Brooks.

  She informed me she knew the NORAD installation, as well. She’d spent time here recently enough that we even had some
prayer she might be able to guide us through the security protocols.

  Anyway, it was standard practice to bring someone from the infiltration arm on every military endeavor. That was true even for splinter squads like the one I’ll thrown together.

  I’d chosen her.

  “Yes,” I told Talei, using sign language for the rest. Are you sure you only need three with you? We could spare up to five.

  Talei gestured a negative with one hand.

  “No,” she said aloud. “Smaller is better. We’re not going to get in the door with guns, sister. Respectfully… we likely couldn’t even with your telekinesis. It shouldn’t be our Plan A, for damned sure. Or even our Plan F.”

  I nodded, agreeing with her.

  I knew it rubbed Jorag and a few of the others the wrong way, how informal Talei was with me. I think it bothered them mostly because I didn’t have any kind of relationship with her. They never got pissed off when Jon, Balidor or Wreg talked to me like that, or even yelled at me, but maybe they figured Jon, Balidor and Wreg had earned that right.

  Personally I didn’t much care how Talei talked to me as long as she did her fucking job.

  Right then, I kind of appreciated the bluntness, honestly.

  “Okay,” I said. “Great. And yes… go. Contact us when you get an answer.”

  She didn’t bother to salute, but only gestured an acknowledgment.

  Right after she did, she glanced over her shoulder at Chandre and scowled. I definitely got the sense the scowl was in reference to something specific that had passed between the two of them just then, but I didn’t try to probe any deeper.

  None of my fucking business, as Revik would have said.

  Thinking about him brought a shiver of pain to my light.

  I focused on Talei with an effort as she, Declan and Mara loaded up on weapons.