Survival Aptitude Test: Rise (The Extinction Odyssey Book 3)

by Mike Sheriff

  Cang cleared her throat to steady her voice, searching for a gentle way to break the ill news. The words escaped her. “I’m afraid I have ill news. The mongrels have entered Daqin Guojin.”

  Hissing gasps and hoarse whispers coursed through the seated Jireni. Bewilderment bloomed on their dust-caked faces. “The city-state has fallen?” one of them asked—the Slavv who’d mercy-culled his wounded cousin.

  “Not necessarily. It looks like the mongrels restricted their attack to a limited front. They may not have established control in every district yet.”

  “What can we do, sireen?” another Jiren asked.

  “There’s only one thing to do,” she said. “We must enter the city-state and continue the fight.”

  “Why?” the Slavv asked, tone more heated. “What purpose would that serve?”

  Cang tamped down her ire—the man’s insolence was likely a byproduct of shock and fatigue. “Elements of Jireni may still be active in the southern districts. Your Unum may still be alive.”

  “Maybe,” the Slavv said, “but he won’t be for long. Once the mongrels get a hold of him, they’ll send his head back to Havoc in a crystalline box. Why should I risk my life for a doomed Unum?”

  “That’s enough,” Yongrui said. “You’re speaking to the Primae Jiren.”

  Cang waved off the intervention. “We serve the people now, Jiren—not the Unum or the Cognos Populi. And our people are in danger.” She narrowed her eyes and leveled a bloodless glare. “Your people are in danger. That’s why you’ll risk your life.”

  “I’ve already risked my life today,” the Slavv said, rising to his feet. “And I had to take my cousin’s life because you were too headstrong to break contact with the mongrel fleet.” His hand fell to the dagger-sheath on his belt. “Why should I follow you to my own death?”

  Bhavya stepped forward. “Because the Primae Jiren gave you an order.”

  The Slavv snorted. He stabbed a finger to the south. “Have you been paying attention? The mongrels are in charge now. I’d wager the commander is no longer the Primae Jiren.”

  Cang steadied her breathing. She peered into the Slavv’s eyes, trying to assess whether she could counter his intransigence with reason.

  He turned and addressed the seated Jireni. “None of us has to do what she says. Not anymore.”

  She abandoned reason. Questioning an order to enter the city-state was one thing. Sowing discontent among his fellow Jireni was a far graver matter that demanded one solution. She drew her dagger and lunged forward.

  She swung her arm in a wide arc before the Slavv turned back. The dagger’s tip entered at the nape of his neck and exited his windpipe. His arms jerked outward and spasmed, but they didn’t rise to extract the blade. She did that for him. The Slavv choked out a gurgling breath before collapsing onto the sand.

  Cang cleaned the dagger’s blade on her sleeve, never taking her eyes off the seated Jireni. None so much as flinched. Tens of thousands of men and women had perished today; one more death could hardly make a visceral impact on their psyche. But judging by the more attentive countenances gazing up at her, the reason for this latest death resonated with them. “Be sure to get lots to eat and drink,” she said. “We’ll make our way toward the wall come nightfall.”

  She sheathed the dagger and marched away from the group, heading back toward the high dune. Each footfall sank deeper into the sand, sapping her strength. She pushed through the fatigue and scaled the dune’s windward face, leaning into its slope. Near the top, she crouched to avoid silhouetting herself, then crawled the last few feet to its crest.

  The view beyond the dune was just as unsettling as before. How in Sha’s name had the mongrels pulled this off? Who could have led them to such an unprecedented victory? How many of them were still alive?

  The answers remained elusive.

  Jiren Yongrui joined her a few minutes later. He glanced at her as he lay upon his belly. “You had to do it,” he said. “Even if you’d convinced him to obey your order, he would have proven a liability inside the wall.”

  Cang didn’t respond. She didn’t need his consolation to salve her conscience.

  Yongrui traced a finger in the sand, scribing a circle. “Just out of curiosity, how do you propose we enter the city-state?”

  “We’ll enter as mongrels.”

  He stilled his finger. “Sireen?”

  “We’ll disguise ourselves.” She raised her chin toward the expanse of shattered bowpods and bodies. “There are enough mongrel bianfu and weapons out there to supply an entire army.”

  “Do you really think that will—”

  Her acidic glare cut him off. “Are you really going to question my orders?”

  Yongrui’s throat bulged as he swallowed. “Never, sireen. Forgive me and accept my sorrow.”

  She grunted—it was the first time she’d ever heard him utter an apology. At least the mutinous Slavv hadn’t died in vain.

  THIRTY MINUTES AFTER setting out from the evacuation shaft, Daoren and the others reached the tunnel’s southern terminus. Two flights of stairs led up to a nullglass hatch.

  Heqet groaned. “I’ve seen more than enough stairs for one day.”

  Daoren took her arm. “I’ll help you up.”

  “Tarry, Unum,” Hyro said. “Let my men do a sweep of the outpost first.” She waved four Jireni forward.

  The men ascended the stairs and paused at the hatch. One grabbed its circular handle. The others lined up in single file. They hoisted their sonic rifles.

  “Daggers only,” Hyro said.

  The Jireni gazed down at her, seemingly confused by the order.

  “If you start firing sonic rounds, you’ll alert every mongrel and Asianoid in the district. Use your daggers and adjust your sweep tactics.”

  The men shed the rifles and drew their crystal daggers. A nod from the first Jiren in line signaled the man on the hatch to initiate the breach. He spun the handle and tugged. The hatch swung open without a sound.

  Three Jireni surged forward, less than a foot separating them. The fourth followed once they’d cleared the hatch.

  Daoren waited with Heqet and Hyro at the base of the stairs, ears pricked for the telltale sounds of contact. He heard nothing. Three minutes later, one of the Jiren reappeared at the open hatch. “The structure is clear.”

  “All four floors?” Hyro asked.

  “Yes, sireen.”

  She motioned for Daoren and Heqet to proceed. “Quietly, if you please.”

  Daoren took Heqet’s arm and helped her up the stairs. Hyro and the rest of the Jireni followed.

  The outpost’s vacant ground level greeted them on the other side of the hatch. Dim light panels embedded in the walls and ceiling revealed a layout similar to the outpost they’d visited earlier in the day. Banks of consoles lined its perimeter, their wraparound touch-screens dark and dormant.

  “How long before you can power them up?”

  “Five minutes,” Hyro said.

  “Can we help?” Heqet asked.

  “You could, but then it would take ten minutes.”

  Daoren chuckled at Hyro’s reply and deadpan stare. He left her to put the Jireni to work, content to focus on Heqet. The battle for the northern border had absorbed all his attention. He’d spent precious little time considering how it had impacted her. “This day didn’t turn out as we’d expected, did it?”

  “That’s obvious,” she said with a snort. “So much for a pleasant outing to sample the new crops.”

  “We witnessed some horrible scenes, didn’t we?” He let his voice trail off, unsure how to frame the next question. “Were you . . . bothered by any of it?”

  Her brow crimped. “Bothered?”

  “You know, troubled. Disturbed.”

  “Um . . . not particularly.”

  He nodded, uncertain of how to proceed. His gaze fell upon her belly. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Better.”

  “Could you be more specific?�
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  She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Please don’t mother me, Daoren. I hate it when you try to mother me.”

  “A mother-to-be needs to be mothered once in a while.”

  She dipped her chin and leveled a deadpan stare. It bore an uncanny resemblance to Hyro’s. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

  He smirked. “A week or so. I was going to—”

  A forbidding thought erased his smirk. He tugged his quantum tile from his pocket. “I’m going to try to reach my mother again.”

  Heqet reached out and caressed his cheek. “I’m sure she’s all right.”

  “I hope so. She’s—”

  A raspy scrape ebbed from beyond the outpost’s rearmost wall. He glanced over his shoulder. “Was that someone coughing?”

  “I think one of the Jireni went to use the waste chamber.”

  He eyed the doorway in the rear wall, a mere twenty feet from his position. No lights burned beyond it. If the layout was the same as the other outpost, it led to a handful of antechambers and a staircase that accessed the upper floors.

  He made a quick headcount of the Jireni manning the consoles, but couldn’t recall how many had descended with him and Hyro from the battlement. “Stay here.”

  Daoren pocketed the tile as he crept across the floor. He slowed his pace and inched toward the doorway’s murky threshold. He canted his head, straining to detect any—

  A lanky figure appeared and let loose a primal scream. A curved, glinting object arced downward.

  Daoren’s mind had a split-second to register the descending knife blade. His reflexes took care of the rest.

  He raised his arm and blocked the strike. His free hand grabbed the attacker’s wrist and wrenched it downward. He drove his hip outward and flipped the flailing figure to the floor. Feeble light spilled across a contorted Africoid face.

  Daoren cocked his arm, poised to drive his fist into the attacker’s nose. A spark of recognition gave him pause. “Taan?”

  Taan gazed up at him, wide-eyed. “For . . . forgive me, Unum! I thought you were a mongrel!”

  Heqet and Hyro crossed the floor. Daoren hauled the young Africoid to his feet. “What in Sha’s name are you doing here?”

  “He was hiding with us on the roof.”

  Daoren spun to the familiar voice.

  Aesic edged through the doorway. Six more denizens followed him—three Asianoids, two Indonoids, and another Africoid. He extended his arm.

  Daoren grasped Aesic’s hand and pumped it. “Is this all of you?”

  “There’s one more,” another familiar voice announced.

  Su al Xing stepped through the doorway. He grinned. “It’s good to see you again, Unum.”

  Hyro didn’t share Su’s elation. She cast a frosty glare toward the four Jireni who’d performed the sweep of the structure. “After we’ve defeated the mongrels, remind me to discipline the four of you for failing in your task.”

  The men hung their heads, then busied themselves with powering up the consoles.

  “How long have you been here?” Daoren asked.

  “Since the bombardment began,” Aesic said. “We thought the mongrels were going to start lobbing their rounds into the district.”

  “It was his idea to shelter here,” Taan said, pointing at Su.

  “In my past life, I’d studied the construction of Jireni outposts in detail.” Su glanced at Hyro and rekindled his grin. “All the better to defeat their defenses. I wagered it was the safest place to be once the Asianoids joined the battle.”

  “You saw them?” Daoren asked.

  Little by little, Su’s grin disappeared. “I was sitting in a cloister,” he said, “enjoying the sunshine and the wares I’d picked up from the vendor. Then I noticed hundreds of armed Asianoids making their way toward the cull zone. That’s not a common sight in Nansilafu Cheng, so I followed them up the transway. At first I thought they might be part of a civil-defense unit you’d created. When they started culling Jireni, I knew they were allied with the mongrels.”

  “Could you identify any of them?” Hyro asked.

  “One in particular stood out,” Su said. “Hai al Kong.”

  The name struck Daoren like a glass dart through the chest. “Hai was involved?”

  “More than involved. He appeared to be leading the Asianoids.”

  Heqet shook her head. “I knew there was something wrong about him.”

  “I’ll try to do a better job of trusting your feelings,” Daoren said. “Have you heard anything else, Su? What’s happening in the other districts?”

  “I’ve been in contact with my people in Zhongguo Cheng. They say Asianoids have seized control of the Assembly and the Librarium.”

  Daoren’s stomach spasmed. The interrupted call with his mother took on a more sinister tone. He looked to Hyro.

  Blood drained from her cheeks. She whirled and stalked over to the nearest console. “Call up the data streams from the sensors inside the Librarium!”

  Daoren led the others to the console. “My mother was outside the medical facility near the central habitation complex when we last spoke. Your daughter was with her.”

  Hyro leaned over the Jiren seated at the console. A single vein bulged over her temple. “Hurry up, damn you!”

  The harried Jiren manipulated a touch-screen. Five seconds later, imagery began streaming.

  The optical sensor appeared to be mounted on the exterior of one of the habitation complexes, thirty feet above ground level. The perspective took in the lower third of three more complexes. It also captured the medical infirmary’s vaulted entrance, albeit at an oblique angle that obscured its door. The entire length of its tiled pathway was visible, however.

  A barbed breath caught in Daoren’s throat.

  A figure in a yellow lanshan lay upon the pathway—too large to be his mother, thank Sha. A dark, irregular patch surrounded the figure’s torso. A blood pool.

  “What . . . what time was this imagery captured?” he asked.

  The Jiren opened an on-screen dialog box. “It’s real-time according to the qubits in the quantum packets.”

  Daoren racked his memory—how long ago had he talked to his mother? It seemed like days had passed, but that was due to unrelenting stress he’d experienced since the mongrels’ arrival. He retraced his steps leading from the battlement. Fifteen minutes to descend the evacuation shaft. Thirty minutes to transit the tunnel. Five minutes inside the outpost. “Roll it back by sixty minutes and stream it from there.”

  The Jiren complied in short order.

  The archived imagery was brighter thanks to the higher sun angle. The dead Librarian had vanished from the infirmary’s pathway. An interminable minute passed before any movement could be detected on-screen. An Africoid Librarian emerged from one of the habitation complexes. A smaller figure in a blue shenyi accompanied her.

  Hyro gasped. “That’s my Kimye . . .”

  The on-screen pair greeted another Africoid Librarian—a male judging by his build—as he exited the adjacent complex. They walked over to the third complex and gathered at the base of its steps. A few seconds later, another figure in a yellow lanshan came out.

  Daoren recognized his mother’s gait in an instant. He watched as she descended the steps and joined the others. They lingered for a moment, then proceeded toward the infirmary. Twenty feet from its entrance, the group halted. His mother pulled an object from her pocket.

  “Is that when you called her?” Heqet asked.

  He squinted at the screen. The optical sensor lacked the resolution to identify the object. “It must be,” he said. “The call terminated after thirty seconds or so.”

  Thirty seconds later, as if on cue, a blurred cluster of glinting objects streaked across the screen, moving from right to left. Cordelia seemed to recoil from the objects a split-second before the male Librarian collapsed onto the pathway.

  Daoren stared, benumbed and horrified, as the three women dashed toward the infirm
ary’s entrance. Six more figures appeared, entering the screen from the same direction as the glinting objects. All wore conformal airpacks.

  “Asianoids with dart guns,” Su said, the words tainted with contempt. “Not any of my people.”

  On the screen, the women disappeared behind the infirmary’s entrance. The Asianoids fired another volley of glass darts, but the optical sensor’s angle failed to capture their effect. It did make clear that the armed Asianoids continued their pursuit moments later.

  Daoren clenched his hands and glanced at Hyro. Her sallow complexion mirrored the dread in his heart. “We have to go to the Librarium.”

  Hyro wiped her eyes and nodded. “At once.”

  Heqet tugged Daoren’s sleeve. Her voice was a mere whisper. “What about Rhyger’s Cliffs?”

  “We’ll head there after we collect my mother and Kimye.”

  Heqet averted her gaze and drew an audible breath.

  “What is it?”

  “Isn’t heading into Zhongguo Cheng an unacceptable risk?”

  Prickly heat flushed his cheeks. He glared at her. “We’re talking about my mother.”

  Her gaze was slow to find him again. “I know, Daoren, but you’re the Unum. You have to think of your people. What good can you do for them if you’re captured or culled?”

  “And what good would I be to them if I let my own mother die at the hands of my enemy?”

  Heqet shrank from his shout. He immediately wished he’d softened his tone. Before he could apologize for the outburst, Su spoke up.

  “I’ll come with you, Unum. I know some sheltered routes between here and Zhongguo Cheng. Ones that are off the grid.”

  “I’ll come as well,” Aesic said.

  “Me, too,” Taan said, voice plump with excitement.

  “My thanks,” Daoren said, “but I can’t ask you to risk your lives. You should remain here. Stay under cover until we’ve defeated this threat.”

  Su scoffed. “I’ve never been good at staying under cover. If I’m going to be culled, I’d prefer to be culled while I’m on the offensive.”

  Aesic and Taan both nodded their agreement. The six denizens from the roof followed suit.