by T Q Chant
“You are newly Saved, Samrit, you would not understand.”
“You are my mentor – help me to.”
She didn't know why, but she pushed the door open. Bethany was crouched down under the stream of hot water, curled into herself. From the colour of the skin across her back, she had been there sometime.
“You knew one of them, didn't you?”
“Marj. The woman who...who...”
Samrit went to her instinctively, wrapping Bethany up in her arms as the other woman's body convulsed with sobs. Samrit's clothes were pretty much soaked through instantly, but the almost searing heat was a comfort to her –
– a memory of warm rain, the smell of hot 'crete and samosas –
and all she knew was that Bethany had been kind to her, after a fashion, and seemed to be her friend.
Also helps that she's hot as fuck, she thought, enjoying the feeling of bare skin under her hands. She kissed the back of Bethany's head through her sodden hair. “I'm sorry – I should never...”
“You were not to know.”
“I have all of these...rules in my head, and I don't know where they come from, but they also don't seem to be followed by everyone.”
Bethany patted her arm. Samrit kissed the nape of her neck, feeling a little shiver pass through the other woman's body. “Have faith, Samrit. It will become clear to you.” The shiver Samrit had felt turned into tension. “But we should perhaps not be found like this. Particularly not now.”
Samrit loosened her grip. “Perhaps not.”
**********
“I count three still out there,” Kora said as Williams vaulted the tangle of girders that had become their fall-back position. “And I am out of bullets.”
Williams checked the ammo counter on her own weapon, collected as she dashed for cover.
She could hear them skittering around out there, the clack of clawed feet on rock, the occasional hiss of communication. “You realise they're not shooting at us?” she muttered to Kora. “We probably don't actually need to take cover.”
“Correct, however...”
Dirchs came down the ramp, no attempt at tactical movement, a rictus grin fixed on his face as he pulled the rotorcannon's trigger and sprayed the inside of the launch chamber with frag/HE rounds. Williams saw one of the creatures catch a burst and just disappear in a spray of superheated blood and innards.
“Dirchs, would you mind what you are fucking doing with that?” she yelled as the firing stopped. She came up on one knee, Mauser up, but there was no sign of the hostiles. Whatever they were.
“Sorry, boss. Don't often get to play with this.”
“You fired two thousand rounds on the way back here alone!”
Miller had backed down the ramp after his fireteam partner, watching his back. “We saw movement and engaged, not sure if we hit anything. You're bleeding, Williams.”
“Anyone else reminded of old horror films at this point?”
Williams glanced down, realised she had a long gash in her arm – one of the things' claws had ripped through the flexarmour and gouged her deeply. “Probably would have been off if I wasn't suited,” she commented, impressed despite herself. “Let's fall back and tool up – think this is going to be a long night.”
CHAPTER SIX – COMING BACK
The atmosphere in the city-warren changed in the aftermath of the executions.
Samrit couldn't quite put her finger on the change, even though she knew the cause. The punishment for her and Bethany had come to an end, and they now had unaccustomed free time to spend in the narrow tunnels and wider plazas.
Bethany was still her mentor and guide, although she seemed confused at the amount of liberty her charge was being given.
“Folks here are very industrious,” Samrit commented as they rested in a refectory, drinking cold barley water. It was obviously shift change in the local workshops, and the benches that filled the long, low room were filling up with hungry, grimy workers ready for a simple meal before the evening devotions.
As always, the men and women sat separately; she was pretty sure they worked in different areas as well. There was a new dynamic though. Where before, as far as she had been able to see, the newly Saved – those who had followed Jonathan to this place – had mixed with the original inhabitants, now they sat in separate groups. The newcomers always sat at the end of each bench, the groups of men and women close enough to support each other but never interacting. They ate in grim silence, business-like, while the others chatted at least a bit.
“We all do our part,” Bethany said quietly. She had changed as well, seemed more subdued, less ready to flash her bright smile. “Ours is a great work.”
“Are there other cities? Even if there are thousands here, it does not seem enough to spread the word of the Bright Ones to all our worlds.”
“There are other cities on the planet. The Near-Raptured tell us that there are colonies, that we are the first of the chosen and that the Raptured seeded other worlds from this place. I have never seen them, though. Not even the other cities on this world. No-one has left this city for many years.”
Samrit thought about that for a while, feeling a return of her need to question, to gather data. “And how did the people come to be here in the first place?”
“These are all things you should know, Samrit.”
Misstep. She sensed the information was there, buried in her mind, but jumbled and disjointed – more of an awareness of knowledge than knowledge itself. From Bethany's expression she guessed it should be clearer, that her lack of recollection was a sign that the Bright Place had not had the desired effect.
And she really didn't want to go back there. She didn't think Bethany would rat on her, but some of the others sitting nearby appeared to have perked up at her tone.
She smiled at the other woman. “I like to hear you tell me,” she said, and relaxed when Bethany returned the smile.
“We are told that our ancestors were lifted from the cradle of our kind after it had become filthy and corrupted. The Bright Ones who had breathed life into us in the beginning of all things selected the most pure and the most devout and brought them to this world to start our people afresh. These were the first of the Raptured, who were tested here and then borne up to paradise.”
Samrit nodded along, the knowledge that was not hers coming back on a mnemonic tide. “And their children were Saved, but had not yet earned the right of Rapture and so must labour here to prepare the way for the cleansing of all the worlds.”
“Except for Earth,” one of the newly Saved who had been listening in growled. “That can only be cleansed with fire, and nothing shall be spared the flame.”
Funny attitude, given as how he's from Earth. PanLat, from the accent.
Samrit finished her glass with a single swallow, not making eye contact with their new friend. “Shall we continue?”
Bethany took her arm as they left the refectory, the first time she had done so since the executions. Samrit found herself absurdly pleased by the small, casual gesture. “It seems odd to me that we have no tasks to perform,” she commented as the two of them wandered along a wider thoroughfare, busy with activity. There were shops after a fashion here, though Samrit couldn't see anyone actually pay for anything, instead receiving their goods on an allocation basis. “What is our role in this great work?”
“We will work as we are assigned, but our greatest gift will be to help expand the congregation.”
Samrit almost shuddered at that, managed to suppress it in time. “Am I still to marry Okafor?”
Bethany leaned in close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I do believe this is why we are at liberty – I think you will be married soon.” She squeezed Samrit's forearm. “You will be a mother soon!”
I already am, kinda. The unbidden voice startled her and her eyes darted around, making sure she had not said it out loud. It was a knowing stronger than the information that had been implanted when she went to t
he Bright Place, a remembrance of who she had been before.
Her black hair, and one of his fathers' blue eyes. Deeper, not as startlingly bright as Bethany's.
Her mouth kept talking to cover any awkward gap. “What of you? Are you to be married, or are you waiting for the right guy to come along?”
Bethany's smile became sad; more of a hint of sorrow. “That is not my path – another one has been chosen for me.” She looked down and away, and Samrit worried that she had broken the moment. When Bethany continued, it was with a familiar false brightness. “I am greatly honoured, Samrit, almost as much as you! I have been chosen to receive the Seed.”
Samrit wracked her brain, trying to catch the fragments of information that had been downloaded into it when she was brainwashed. She didn't want to appear to be backsliding again, but there was nothing there.
“It is not something we discuss with newcomers,” the other woman went on, apparently not noticing her mental gymnastics. “But I can trust you with this secret, can't I?”
“Of course you can.” I have an honest face and a trustworthy manner.
“Some of us are chosen for great tasks, to prove our worth. If we do prove ourselves, we are given the chance to birth angels into this world.”
Samrit blinked, nonplussed, then formed an enthusiastic smile. “That's incredible! It must be difficult, though!”
“I am told it is a beautiful experience, but like everything else in life it is a trial. If I succeed and bring a representative of the Bright Ones into this world, I will be far closer to being Raptured myself!”
“And if you fail?”
“Oh, I will die.”
**********
Night vision amped on their tactical visors. Motion sensors and tracking grenades. Longarms, back-ups and holdouts. Extra bullets for everything. Hot, loaded and ready for a fight.
The only thing they were missing were the hostiles.
It had been a long night, fully tactical, watches by twos and Shard mines dotted along the corridor to their base of operations. Williams' eyes felt gritty and her mouth like sandpaper; every noise jangled and she had the familiar slight disconnect of a CombatEdge come-down.
“I think we're clear, for now,” Kora murmured. She had refused the stimulant cocktail but still looked fresh, ready to go. She was a few years after Williams out of training. Less time in the field, but maybe it was true what they said, that Tier One was a young boots' game.
Williams snorted. She was still a long haul from thirty. Kora raised an eyebrow. “Nothing. Yeah, I think that was a probe and they've decided we're too tough a nut to crack right now.”
“Or they're working our nerves,” Dirchs grumbled as he prepped no-heat coffee, pouring water onto the granules and watching disconsolately as the drink heated itself through. “Worst thing about being operational. Scheisse coffee.”
Williams dumped her Engager and accepted a mug, sitting down opposite him. She nodded at the cannon. “You get to play with your favourite toys, though.”
He did brighten a bit at that, but Williams could tell they were all on edge, that the neck-or-nothing fighting spirit of yesterday was hanging by a thread. Some guys, once they'd gone loud, were only happy when they kept on the offensive. She liked an attacking game more herself.
“They are definitely human,” Cahaya said, breaking into her thoughts. “Or were, originally.” He was working in one corner of the control room with the least-damaged specimen they had hauled in. It seemed 'field intel specialist' included emergency pathologist, a skillset that was being tested to its limits as Snoopy was still shut down.
“They've been surgically augmented?” she asked over her shoulder, too tired to go and look for herself. She'd seen the things, inside and out, close enough for her liking.
“No, no I don't think so. Not heavily, anyway. I think they're transgenic, that they were born this way, were designed this way.”
“Maybe they're the colonists – y'know, they've mutated or something?”
Cahaya and Kora gave Miller almost identical withering looks before Cahaya continued. “There's been some surgery – their claws, certainly. Could tell that from the way that they went through your armour, boss.”
Williams mangled forearm was starting to hurt like a fucker, now that the Edge was coming off. More than it really should. “The other weird thing is that it's decomposing really quickly.”
“Was wondering what that smell was.”
“That's your underwear, Miller.”
Williams silenced them with a glance. “How the fuck is it decomposing already?”
“Without better tools, I cannot say. It could be local microfauna, or something within its design.”
“The perfect terror trooper,” Yvgena commented. She was swigging her 'coffee' with apparent relish, but Yvgena approached everything with apparent relish. “Horrifying, lethal from an ambush, and all traces of it disappear swiftly.”
“It would explain why we didn't find the one Cane killed. Which she must have done, because she survived the encounter.”
Williams recalled the holes in Fassetti's skull. Like something had drilled into his brain. “Not terror troops – scouts. Intel gathering.”
“You're saying they're us?”
“They are so not us, Miller, but they have a similar role.”
“Bet they've not been hung out here, lightyears from any real support, though.”
“Agreed – this is their home turf. And the hostiles we tangled with before were definitely classic recipe human. Which is why we're going to scope out where they're based and call in an orbital strike.”
“Won't be much of an orbital strike – the cutter only really mounts fifty-mill mass drivers and a couple of tubes for self-defence.”
“It'll do. And if it doesn't...” She raised the commando dagger she had retrieved the night before. “We do it the old-fashioned way. So let's chow down and gear up.”
**********
“You said you had to perform a great task, before you could receive the Seed.”
Bethany sat bolt upright in bed as Samrit spoke, staring about wildly. Samrit clicked on the bedside light, took a moment to enjoy the way Bethany's simple nightgown stuck to her. The night was stifling, even this deep underground, and Samrit had not been able to sleep, turning over their conversation from earlier in the day.
“Samrit! This is not appropriate!”
“That's the problem with an open and trusting society. You don't lock your doors.” She perched on the edge of Bethany's bed, holding the woman in place with her stare. She felt feverish, sick with worry over her fate, torn by what she wanted and the knowledge that it was a sin. “Your great task is me, isn't it?”
Bethany drew her knees up and a thin sheet over herself. Her gaze wasn't angry, though. Sad perhaps. “Yes.”
“What is so special about me?” Careful now. Don't give away how much you know. “And why is mentoring me such a great task?”
Bethany took a deep breath, close to a sob. Samrit edged slightly closer to her, put a hand on her bare forearm. Her skin was hot to the touch. “You are...a test.”
“I know I can be difficult...”
Bethany laughed, a hysterical edge to it. Samrit reached out quickly to put a finger over her full lips. Bethany reached up, but rather than brushing her hand away, took it in a tight grip. Pressed her lips to Samrit's knuckles. “Not like that.” She looked down, hair falling over her eyes. “Do not hate me for this.”
“Not sure I could.” Not sure what I feel about you.
“The... Bright Place. Our temples. Supplicants must come to them in order to be received. Our elders feel there is a way to...project the Brightness beyond the temples, to help people come closer to Rapture without them having to come to our worlds. When you were found, out in the desert, close to death, it was decided to use these new fragments of the Brightness to offer you salvation.”
You know, that is complete bullshit. But she believes it.
Bethany smiled, nodded. Her lips against Samrit's knuckles, the brush of her hair against her forearm, sent a thrill through her entire body.
“And your reward for this task will be to become a mother of angels?”
Another nod. Samrit brushed Bethany's hair away from her forehead, so she could see her eyes, see the fear and apprehension there. “It does not seem so much of a task, or much of a reward.”
Bethany opened her mouth to speak, closed it again. Obviously confused, worried by Samrit's apparent blasphemy. Before she could speak again, Samrit leaned in and kissed her.
For a moment, she thought she had miscalculated as Bethany's lips remained closed against hers. Then they parted slightly, and Sam turned her head slightly and pushed her tongue forward.
She eased Bethany onto her back as they continued to kiss, tried not to wince as, her passion suddenly aroused, Bethany bit her lip a little too hard. The hand Bethany was holding was now locked in a death grip; she ran the other into thick blonde hair. Despite being smaller, Sam was able to bear her down easily. Heart beating fast despite herself, she slid her free hand down Bethany's cheek and lower, trailing a finger along the curve of her throat. She broke the kiss and nibbled down the side of Bethany's neck while she started unlacing the nightgown.
Bethany's breath caught as Sam started tugging the garment open. “This is wrong.”
“Tell me to stop.” She slid her hand down, over smooth skin, ran her finger tips along the side of one full breast then down as she worked her mouth lower, taking a hard nipple between her lips. Bethany gasped and Sam pulled herself back up to cover the other woman's mouth with her own, stifling any further noise as she slowly slid her hand down the smooth, soft curve of belly.
Bethany stared up at her, eyes bright. “This is so wrong,” she whispered as Sam leant back so she could take in everything. Her hand, poised on Bethany's pelvis, was a startling brown against creamy skin.
“Maybe, but you didn't tell me to stop,” she said, leaning in again to silence Bethany as her hand went lower.
