Two hours later, Hera was prepared to meet the truth. She had scouted the complex, taken stock of the placement of security cameras, and managed to disable the one overlooking the southern fence. Wearing her long leather coat, longgun holstered at her hip, steel cable wrapped around her waist, she was as ready as she would ever be. Now she had to hurry before someone noticed the lack of feedback on their monitors.
She sneaked around the guard’s cubicle and found her distracted, having a chat with a pretty hatha, Moira – a dark-haired, slanted-eyed Gultur. Good, no need to engage Plan B, which included lots of improvisation, shots being fired and a bright future in a prison cell.
Hand resting on the grip of her longgun, Hera strode out into the yard, keeping her gaze straight ahead and hoping she looked like a Gultur with a purpose, which was, after all, the truth.
Not expecting the gate to be unlocked – and it looked padlocked even from afar – she turned and headed to the south side. She eyed the tall chain link fence, which was topped with barbed wire, and smirked.
This would have been a bloody mess, had she not come informed and prepared.
Shrugging her coat off, she threw it up and over the barbed wire, covering it. Grinning, she reached up with her gloved hands, finding hand- and footholds in the mesh fence, and climbed up. With careful movements, she gripped the wires through the thick leather. Once she was sure she would not be sliced to pieces by the sharp barbs, she pulled herself up and passed one leg over the wires, then the other.
She was outside.
With a flip of her hand, she freed her coat and jumped down to the hard cement, wincing at the echoing thump. The unpainted, concrete wall surrounding the complex stood easily fifteen feet tall – almost three times her height. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody had seen her, and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Unwinding the thin steel cable from around her waist, she stepped back. Then she threw the grappling hook up the wall, pulled on it to secure it, and started climbing.
She’d done similar exercises on the training grounds in Bone Tower, but then she was not facing charges of – what? insubordination? treason? What was the penalty for that?
Forcing her mind back on track, she climbed higher, the cable scorching furrows into her palms and fingers even through the gloves, until she reached the top and breathed out. Artemisia spread in rows of narrow buildings and dark alleys. A sour stench hit her nostrils.
With no more time to take in the view, she pulled up the cable, threw it on the other side and quickly descended until her boots hit the sidewalk.
She was in the harbor suburbs of Artemisia.
A jerk on the cable freed the hook and she wrapped the wire around her waist once more. Keeping a steady tread, she walked into the shadows of an alley, shrugging her coat back on and drawing her gun. She had only been in purely Gultur cities before – Dakru City, which was the capital, and Bone Tower, the sacred citadel. They had tall white buildings, trees and lakes and temples with carved doors and statues. Flowers bloomed in the gardens and their scent filled the air.
Artemisia reeked. Hera had even smelled it from the transport helicopter as they had approached the town that morning – rotten meat, like a one-day-old corpse, sourness and piss – but now she gagged on it and pressed her sleeve over her nose. The buildings, blackened by the soot of dakron fumes, looked dilapidated and decrepit, their windows broken. The streets were narrow and filthy, covered in trash – some of it organic but mostly packages and torn bags. She shuddered when a huge rat ran along a wall and dived into a gutter.
It must be only the harbor neighborhood, she told herself and gripped her gun more tightly. Surely other parts of the town looked – and smelled – better.
There was the shuffle of feet, and something whizzed past her ear. What in the hells? She threw herself sideways, and the second dart, for that was what it was, hit a wall and ricocheted, striking the cement with a hair-raising screech.
Shaking with shock and anger she got to her feet. Whoever was there would soon regret this pitiful attack. She took aim, her pulse racing, but never got the chance to fire. A whirlwind of hands and feet and high-pitched voices stormed her. She knocked a bony hand aside with the handle of her longgun and kicked at a leg before she even realized who these persons were.
Children.
She turned the muzzle of her gun in a circle, zeroing on face after emaciated, small face, and her breath caught at their stench, their blackened feet, their shredded clothes. Children living on the street? They crouched as if about to attack, and she steadied her aim on the tallest one who seemed to be their leader.
“Go away and I will not kill you,” she said, proud her voice did not waver. The boy’s eyes hardened, then softened as he glanced around him. Aha, a weakness. “You do not want the others to die, do you? You’re responsible for them. Take them and go.”
He surprised her by lifting his chin and taking a step toward her. “We need food and water and medicine. Come on, give us what you got and we go.”
“I have nothing.” And that saddened her, she realized with surprise, because they looked thin and hungry. Did their whole family live on the street? Mortals were raised by their mothers and fathers, she knew, being born so much weaker than the Gultur. She tried to imagine growing up with Tefnut – a hand caressing her hair and an arm around her shoulders – and a rare feeling of jealousy closed up her throat. “Where are your parents?”
“Parents?” He laughed but it was bitter and sharp, and it was odd, coming from him. He did not look older than twelve. “Your race killed them off. Prevention measures, they called them. Murder, I say.”
Shit. Hera’s head spun. Although she’d grown up without her mother, she’d always been surrounded by her teachers and trainers. She could not imagine growing up without someone older to guide her, feed her, teach and prepare her for the future.
Sobek. If only that future did not frighten me.
Hera took a deep breath, knowing she did not have much time before her escape was discovered. She needed to get back fast, yet not before getting the intel she had come out for. “Tell me this: is there a raid tonight? Can you take me there?”
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” He spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling. “But you don’t wear a visor and don’t have a shield. They left you behind, didn’t they?”
“You stupid...” She bit her tongue. The other children’s faces twisted in grimaces of fear and anger. “No, they did not leave me behind. I just need to know... the truth.”
“The truth is that your bastard race’s killing us,” he said, his dark eyes narrowed. “You’re killing us every day, in every way. You took control of everything and left us begging for scraps. You treat us like dogs, squish us like bugs. You got everything. How come we got nothing, huh?”
“You started the War.” Gods, her voice trembled now and her gun shook just a little. She tightened her grip on the handle. “You tortured us and killed us first.”
“So this is your revenge? For something nobody remembers?”
“We remember. It happened five hundred and seventy years ago,” Hera quoted, her voice like stone but starting to crack. “It is written. You started—”
“Buzzardshit.” The boy took a shuffling step toward her, his hands fisted at his sides, his cheeks flushed. “Says who? You. Besides, who cares who started what five hundred years ago? It wasn’t my parents and it wasn’t me, was it?”
Hera couldn’t breathe. Every day, together with the other Gultur of her quarter, she’d prayed to the Gods to save her from the mortals who wanted her death, who wanted her destruction, and to give her strength to smite them. She’d asked Regina to lend her strength to do what she must.
Today everything she’d always known seemed wrong and stupid.
The boy glared. He’d taken another step closer. His eyes glittered, and his hair, sandy like Sacmis’s, hung in greasy strands around his thin face. He reeked of swe
at and shit and truth.
Hera took a deep breath and savored it. “Just take me to the raid,” she whispered, lowering her gun so it didn’t point at his head anymore. “I need to see.”
“See to believe, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“If I take you, you give me your gun?”
“Nobody takes my gun.” She scowled.
The boy suddenly grinned. “And if I have my gang take it from you?”
“Your memory is too short, boy.” She sneered. “If you do not do as I say, I’ll shoot, and they’ll die. Do you really want that?”
He squinted at her. “Do you?”
Dammit. Silence filled her mouth and killed the words. Do I? She sighed and lifted her gun again, aiming at his head. “I said, take me.”
A smaller boy tugged at the leader from behind. “Mantis, take her there. Do it, come on, man. She’ll kill you if you don’t.”
The leader – Mantis – nodded. “You’re right, Kem.”
She wanted to laugh, though her stomach was in knots. “What, you do as a little one says?”
He cocked his head to the side, observing her, barely blinking. “It’s not always the strongest who knows best, I’ll have you know.”
Hera winced. “And you have said enough. Take me.”
Mantis shrugged. Turning on his heel, he started off down an alley. “Come if you like, fe. Your kind gets off on blood and death, huh?”
“That is a stupid thing to say. Nobody likes blood and death.” She hurried after him, wondering as she did why she felt she had to correct him, or explain anything. The other kids dispersed, melting into the shadows of fire escapes and other alleys. “We are not like that.”
“But you are. You will be.” He gave her a sidelong glance. He walked remarkably fast for a young boy. “When you get older.”
Hera shuddered. “How do you know all this?” About Regina maturing, overtaking me.
The boy shrugged. “All adults like blood.”
Hera shook her head. So he did not really know about Regina. Being paranoid again. He turned into a wider street and she matched his pace.
“How often do they raid?” she asked.
“They?” He snorted. “You talk as if you aren’t one of them, as if—Oh shit.” His face paled and he pressed his back to a wall, waving at her to do the same. No sooner had she hidden in the shadow of a rusty fire escape, than a Gultur patrol marched by, visored and armed, shields held before them. A man scuttled out of their path. One of the Gultur shoved him with her shield and sent him smashing against a wall. He crumbled.
Hera hissed and made as if to step out, gun at the ready, but Mantis’ hand on her arm stopped her. She stood, frozen in place, as the Gultur laughed and marched on.
“Is he all right?” she whispered.
“Well, he’s not dead. He’s a lucky bastard.” Face grim, Mantis tugged her away and into an alley full of cats and trash.
“Wait.” Hera shook her arm free. “They would not kill him just for standing in their way.”
“Oh, wouldn’t they?” His emotionless voice twisted Hera’s stomach. “Hurry up or you’ll miss all the fun.”
Hera smelled the smoke long before they saw the fire. She opened her mouth to ask where the fire brigade was when Mantis muttered:
“They’re using the flamethrowers and ‘splosive grenades again today.”
“What are you talking about, these are not...” Hera frowned.
Gultur helicopters and aircars surrounded the area on fire. Black smoke billowed out of the broken windows of the burning buildings and hung heavy on the air; it stung Hera’s eyes and throat with every breath.
Then an explosion rocked the ground and thin screams echoed. Where were the fire trucks? Hera squinted in the smoky air, trying to discern what was happening, and a gasp left her lips. She stared in shock, her knees weakening.
Oh gods.
Visored Gultur held flamethrowers aimed at the buildings and the people inside. They were not helping, no, they were killing, burning, destroying. Gultur were doing this, delivering this. This raid. This death.
Bile burned the back of her throat. ‘You must get off on blood and death, huh?’ She dropped to her knees, her gun cluttering to the pavement, and she retched. Nunet’s snakes. Is this what we are? What we do? Is this what Regina convinces us to do?
“Hey, you okay?” Mantis’ pale face loomed over her like a moon. “It’s like you’ve never seen this shit before.”
She shook her head, refused to take his offered hand to stand. She made it on her own, stood on trembling legs and holstered her gun. “I have to go back.”
“Oh yeah?” He gestured at the raid unfolding before them. “Won’t you join them?”
“No.” Never. Dammit, now she had more questions, needed more answers than before – but at least she knew where she stood. Who she was. Who she would become if she did not fight back. “Who leads the resistance?”
“You’re asking too much. For all I know, you’re only looking to kill me.” He scowled. “Besides, what makes you think I know such things? I don’t work for the damned resistance, do I?”
“I need to contact them.”
“You’re out of your pissing mind, fe.”
He backed away then, and she knew he would probably melt into the shadows and never return. Sweat dripped in her eyes.
“Wait, Mantis.”
He hesitated. “What?”
She had to convince him. If only she knew how. “I am not like them.”
He bit his lower lip. “Not yet. Soon, though, soon you’ll be just like them.”
“No.” She wiped her mouth, swallowing hard to get rid of the sourness in her throat; in vain. “I do not want to be like them. I did not know, I...” She exhaled and wished she could find the right words. “I want to stop this.”
“Heh.” His mouth twisted in an angry smile. “And how?”
“I told you. I need to find the resistance.”
His smile fell and he looked away, hands loose at his sides. His shabby pants hung in shreds below his dirty knees. His boots were holed in several places.
We’re all human.
“If you knew where to find them, you’d betray them. The resistance.” He turned his dark gaze back on her and she could not look away from the pain and anger and sadness that filled it. “You’d kill them all.”
“I shall not.” How to make them trust her? She was a Gultur. Why would they ever believe in her sincerity? She’d only just changed her mind about everything she’d ever been taught that morning. Yet she had to succeed, she had to convince this boy that she would not betray his trust, if he chose to give it.
Her mother’s words returned to her memory and she closed her eyes briefly, drawing on them for inspiration. “Take them... Take a message for me.” Would they know her mother? “Tell them, Tefnut says we’re all human.”
The message at least was clear.
He scrunched up his face. “Who the hell’s Tefnut?”
“She’s...” Hera sighed. “You do not need to know more, that would be safer for both of us. Just tell them what I said. If they agree to meet with me, you must find me when I return to the Gultur military port in two days for my next patrol. Be there. Give me their answer.”
“All right.” He looked dubious, his brows drawn together. “Where?”
“On the other side of the high wall where I met you.” She saw in her mind’s eye the concrete wall and frowned. “But I’m not sure I can break out again, they may suspect me already. Can you break in?”
The boy avoided her gaze. “There’re ways for someone my size. Listen, fe, I’ll just pass your request along, hoping it’ll somehow reach them.”
He looked scared, even if he tried to hide it. Hera nodded. She hoped her suspicions were right, that her mother’s name was known to the resistance and that it would be enough to vouchsafe her trustworthiness to the leaders of the Undercurrent.
Chapter
Three
Hera Page 2
