Song of Sundering

by A. R. Clinton

  Tani felt like she knew the man who had created these documents. Sometimes the flow of machinery schematics made little sense to her. She understood that most people wanted a step-by-step guide from start to finish. She didn’t think in that way. And neither did he, it seemed. Why think in fragments instead of systems? Tani and the Author knew that every system was made of smaller subsystems. He taught her each system and built them up on top of each other into a working and moving series. When she understood them in isolation, understanding them together was easy. Even better, translating the patterns into other systems became possible.

  The problem, as she saw it, was that the Terranoid system, while flexible, was not malleable. It adapted to change—external stressors, environmental changes, even changes in the food supply—were no problem for it. But except for organisms that evolved with it, none of the Terran races could tolerate foreign bodies. An internal war began the moment the source crystals entered the body. The resulting inflammation could be subtle and unnoticeable at first, but eventually the body would succumb, begin to attack itself, then fail.

  This seemed to be the problem the Author faced when she looked at his notes in the margins of the document. They were mostly fragments of sentences—"Contamination detected, D72-a01.2378". One note read, "Anaphylaxis H05-j11.2378". A third note simply said, "Mental impairment" with a long series of numbers and following it, each on a separate line. Tani was fairly certain the strings were some sort of naming scheme for his experiments, followed by a strange notation for the date, but she couldn't be sure.

  No matter, the only way to test if her theories were correct was to begin her own experiments. That posed its own problem. She already had people volunteering to be her subjects, but any strange deaths early on in the project would bring with it the eye of Stateswoman Shae and the Prin Guard. Tani would be done before she even got started. On the other hand, small animals were easy to capture, but less than ideal. Not only was it more anatomy Tani had to learn and master, but they were also poor analogs for Terrans. The only commonality they had was that they were not source attuned, as the Terranoids and animals from Psylliss were.

  Tani looked at the dark green and white spots of mold that grew on the walls between the tiny rivulets pouring down from the ceiling. She was also going to need a sterile environment. She would need to talk to Vin about getting a place for experiments set up. She would have to pay dearly for it, but she would figure that out later.

  She looked back at the LightTab. Lines and symbols took hold of her mind again. She became unaware of the dingy room. The riskier the placement of the source crystal in the subject, the greater the effect in the long run. Starting small and safe with animals might be the way to go, but that didn't mean she had to be timid in methodology. Animals would reject the crystals more, but that would prepare her for Terran patients. Losing people was not an option for her—not if she wanted to continue her work.

  Tonight, she was not worried about going out to the Ditch to scavenge parts and sell them. Tonight, she was going to further practice her surgical technique. She bounced off her bed, ignoring the moist squish from the makeshift mattress as she got off of it. Throwing open the tarp that separated the closet from the rest of the room, she started looking for the leather roll that she needed.

  Her closet used to contain what had been junk she intended to sell, but she had purged it and only kept junk that was useful to her—like the old surgical knife set she had found in the Ditch a year ago. She had been trying to sell it, of course, but no one wanted the small scalpels in the kit. They were too small to work as weapons; she was told. For assassinations, no one wanted old steel that the Topside scanners could easily detect. The Ceafield hunters all used ceramic and didn't flinch at the price. Assassinations made them good money.

  Tani had tossed the scalpels into her scrap box and forgotten about them for nearly a year. But now, the knives were hers and she actually needed them. The picky chefs could fuck off with their objections to the set. Why on Sunterra would you need an expensive knife to serve rat meat? She had no issues cutting open rats with the scalpels.

  She saw the leather reflect the light from her new Tab and grabbed it off the top shelf. She filled the shelf below with lemons—moldy lemons. Tonight she was practicing on her eleventh subject. She had used rats, as they never seemed hard to find. She had started out catching them herself, but with all the interest she had in her work, she had got help. There was a boy whose mother was very ill with a muscular disorder. She couldn’t get out of bed, so he would hunt rats daily to make sure she ate. He was more than willing to capture as many as he killed for Tani to use, understanding that his mother would be placed on Tani’s expanding patient list. Creating the ability to move basic objects without using atrophied muscles was right up her alley.

  Tani tossed the LightTab into her sack. Another anxious patient on her list gave her the new Tab. All she needed was new housing and Tani would be happy with the new life the knowledge from the SatNet gave her. Maybe she could find housing attached to a sterile work area. Two birds, one stone.

  Tani looked at the moldy lemons again, their surfaces festering with fresh penicillin. Oranges would be better, but they didn’t grow around Prin. So she had scouted around for a few lemon trees that were less guarded and stole a few from each tree every week. It was infrequent enough that if anyone noticed, they wouldn’t start a manhunt. The lemons were almost ripened to a perfect penicillium state. Who knew some mold was so useful?

  One boy she used to scavenge with, before his family moved to Century, had told her that his Pappy used mold to make alcohol. Tani was just glad she didn’t have to take any of her own antibiotics and that she wasn’t old enough to care about taking shots of mold alcohol.

  If things went her way, she would never get drunk, so she wouldn’t mind the boys using her just to pay for a meal the next day. She was seventeen and had avoided that line of work so far. Most of the boys and girls in the Underground had been doing that work for a few years by her age, at least on occasion when they needed a few extra credits. It helped that she was so small and so rarely needed to eat. All she had ever needed was a LightTab and somewhere to sleep. Alone. This wouldn’t be true for much longer, however. Her needs were expanding because of her project.

  She would need to figure out the doses with the mold. But she also didn't want to waste her limited supply. She would grab some more lemons after her practice tonight. She spun around and exited her room into the light of her landlord’s rooms. It wasn’t as bright as it seemed, but she still always brought up a hand to cover her face. The ladder to the street level was right outside her door and she had walked into it more than once while her eyes were adjusting to the larger room and the slits that brought in sunshine. She grabbed the lowest rung of the ladder, her fingers gliding over the cracks of the worn red paint.

  Besides the mold evolving into antibiotics, she needed one more thing: blood for transfusions. This was a problem with an easy but unfortunate solution. She finished her climb up the ladder and popped out of the open hole in the dark side street of Prin. Pausing, she looked both ways. She knew where to go next and who to talk to get a supply of blood, but she simply didn't want to go. The thought of talking to them, let alone working with them, was nearly enough to make Tani scrap all of her plans for the project. She had considered asking all of her current patrons to donate so she could start her own supply, but the logistics of storage and manpower squelched that idea. She had considered extending her timelines to account for smaller storage and accumulate stores per patient as needed prior to the work, but when she crunched the numbers, the delays from that one change would add a few years to each phase, assuming everything else went perfectly. No, it had to be the BloodSmiths, and she had to secure their cooperation as soon as possible.

  She clutched at her bag, imagining slicing open some creatures with her beautiful leather bound scalpels—then she sighed and took an abrupt and unplanned left, a much more
efficient path that allowed her to drop back down into the Underground close to the current Hierophant Temple. Pulling up the manhole, she could smell their presence as soon as she descended the ladder back into the Underground.

  The sweet and sick aroma of the temple hung in the still Underground air as Tani dropped into the sector where the BloodSmith Temple resided. No matter how they sought to hide their presence, it was only a matter of time before the stench of the BloodSmiths permeated the surrounding tunnels. Other residents near the Temple would move away, if they could, but most were forced to cover the smell when they had to be near their homes.

  Tani smiled at the small boy, sitting on the corner of the intersection where concrete gave way to the older stone section of the Underground. He raised his hand to show her the small pouch of dried herbs and flowers he sold to whoever who could. He wore one, flattened beneath a sash of cloth, tied around his mouth and nose, only his round eyes and black, curly hair visible. She paused, wanting desperately to buy one, but also knowing that the BloodSmiths would not take kindly to her showing up in their Temple with one. Still smiling, she leaned down, plucking it from the boy's hand and pulling out her LightTab to pay him. His surprise was evident. It was nearing sundown, and Tani was certain she was the first person to buy one from him that day. She very well may have been the first person to wander into the Temple's district after the locals left in the morning.

  She finished the transaction and tied the cloth around her face. She still couldn't breathe deep, but the shallow breaths came easier. She continued down the path. What little light filtered in from above faded, and the flicker of the torches kept by the Temple pointed her down the right path of the cramped cobblestone sewer. She reached the torch that marked the drop. The path gave way to a round chasm of stone lined with torches. At the bottom was the Temple. From this height, it seemed like a small hut, shaped like a pyramid, and decorated with dots of fire. She knew that each dot was a large torch, like the ones that blazed beside her. She swung around and began to descend the old ladder, careful not to cut herself on the jagged metal.

  The descent took her longer than she had anticipated, and by the time she neared the ground, her legs shook from the exertion. Pausing as she reached the bottom, she removed the cloth she had purchased, hiding it in her coat pocket. The stench of the place rolled over her. She involuntarily grabbed onto the ladder again in response to the vertigo that threatened to knock her off her feet. It was nearly as long to become accustomed to the smell as the descent down the ladder had been. Better get this over with quickly, she thought, and moved for the temple at the center of the pit.

  Everything the BloodSmiths did was an illusion or a trick, including their temple. They built it so that it looked like the largest building in all of Prin. Topside had many larger buildings, but in this place, it seemed abnormal to find such a structure. The pyramid was constructed in sharp towering lines of balconies, connected by pillars. The balconies jutted out slightly farther than they should, creating a bulging appearance that accentuated its apparent size. It also kept the space outside the pyramid feeling smaller, as if the weight of the top floors would push the balconies out further and they would hit the sides of the pit around them.

  The BloodSmiths built the temple with the stone from the nearby tunnels, and the age of each rock showed, even though the Temple itself was not more than a few years old. The firelight danced across the stone and illuminated the shadows and corners where the green mold and bacterial growth was crawling up the sides from the moisture that still lingered.

  Tani was at the foot of the stairway up to the first landing when she heard the moans of the blood sick coming out of the pyramid. She grit her teeth and forced herself to continue into the building. They filled the bottom floor, laying out on mats, wearing nothing but thin white clothes, soaked through with sweat. They squirmed and moaned, and she felt the heat radiating off of them as she weaved her way between them, each wave of heat accompanied by stronger odors. Some of the people here were so far gone that they had the telltale yellow eyes and skin of those that soon would die and their bodies would be abandoned in the Ditch. She had found many of those corpses herself while out scavenging. Turning her eyes from the poor people, she saw one priest off to the side, bringing water to the sick one by one. For how many sick were there, one priest was not enough to aid them all.

  She walked up to him, “Priest. I need to speak to the Hierophant.”

  He jumped. As he turned to her, he glanced over at her with a leery and disdainful look. He stood a foot taller than her and looked down at her with a clear lack of interest, knowing she did not belong, “The Hierophant is not to be disturbed.”

  She smiled, “What I have to offer him will not be a disturbance.”

  He scanned her from head to toe, “You’re not his type. I cannot imagine that you have much at all to offer.”

  Tani crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him, “And I cannot be responsible for your lack of imagination. Show me to the Hierophant and let him judge.”

  The man stepped closer to her. Tani was not sure that he would refrain from hitting her or tossing her out and down the Temple steps. She held her ground and stared into his eyes until he sneered and responded, “Very well. Let us see what dark cast he finds for your pride.”

  He turned, placing the water down on the floor with little thought, a few drops sloshing over the rim, and walked to the row of pillars that lined the ramp up to the next floor. They ascended and came to the next floor, filled with old wooden pews from a church. The red fabric of the cushions torn and falling apart. The rows had a dozen people scattered throughout them, hooked up to tubes and needles, partaking of blood. She followed the priest up the next ramp. Plush chairs and ornate furnishings filled the highest level of the Temple, every piece carved with symbols the BloodSmiths had pulled out of various religions and cults from Old Terra. Many more priests lounged here, eating and drinking, as if they did not understand the misery of the people on the first floor of their temple.

  The priest guided her past them, and she felt them all looking at her. She walked past the altar of a naked woman with a basin in front of it, filled with blood. A man in deep red robes knelt before it, and as he rose, he dipped his finger into the blood and wiped it across his forehead, then licked his finger clean.

  The priest she followed brought her to a large wooden door and knocked. It echoed throughout the entire floor of the Temple. The door swung open a minute later, and the man who stood before her filled the doorway. Tall and broad, even under the layers of crimson ceremonial garb, the strength of the Hierophant was just as obvious in his penetrating gaze as in his stature.

  Tani tilted her head up at a sharp angle to look into his face, “Hierophant, I have come to make a deal with you. We can help each other.” She saw the subtle twitch of the muscles around his eyes and mouth and prepared to be dismissed as a smirk spread across his face.

  “Can we, small one? And who are you?”

  “I am Tani.” She concentrated on keeping her face still and unmoved as she saw his smirk fade and his veiled annoyance turn to interest. “I see you know who I am.”

  He nodded and stepped back from the doorway, waving his hand towards the room to beckon her inside, “I do. And I am more than a little curious what someone with your talents has to offer us.”

  She passed into the room and noticed the small priest to her side tap two fingers to his chin with a curt nod at her as she walked by.

  Well, fuck you, too.

  The door slammed behind them as the Hierophant led her to sit at the large wooden table. Her feet hung off the edges of the chairs. She wondered if the Hierophant had the chairs made to fit his size, as even the priest who brought her in would have barely fit into any of the giant chairs properly. She sat on the edge and crossed her arms on the surface of the table in front of her. The tall surface made her elbows awkwardly perpendicular to her chin.

  “I have a long list of
patients. Terran patients. And I need a blood supply to operate. You have a blood supply and a problem with creating patients you don’t want. I propose we work together to solve both of our problems.”

  “Our problem solves itself, with time. And when it doesn’t, its rarely been a problem for us.”

  Tani stared into the Hierophant’s eyes, “For now. How many times have you had to rebuild a temple? The Xenai have Prin distracted now, but she won’t always be. And someday, she will turn her gaze back toward the yellowed corpses in the Ditch and the problem that created them. They don’t see the scientific problem that created them, as I do, they just see the institution that did. The institution that you run.”

  He smiled, “That may happen, someday, but they could also come after us for a hundred other reasons. You’re going to have to give me something better than that.”

  Tani sat back, running her hands against the smooth varnish of the chair’s arms. She felt her argument she had been so sure of crumbling beneath her, and she glanced around the room, her eyes falling on the enormous desk in the corner. Next to it stood a vase painted and gilded and nearly as tall as she was. This. This is what he wants. She thought of all the people suffering and dying two floors below where they sat surrounded by finery and swallowed to keep the harsh words that came to mind inside of herself.

  She patted the chair and beamed at him, “Well, if safety is not your concern, then consider those for whom it is. Your chapel has a few imbibers in it now, and rarely more at any given time. You do all this work and so few people pay you for it. Still…” She waved her arm around the room, “You live well.” She leaned in toward the Hierophant again, “How much better would you and your priests live if people were no longer afraid of imbibing? If blood sickness wasn’t a concern to them? How many more would happily pay to be here?”