by C. Gockel
They made their way toward the crowd in silence. Volka’s mind was still tumbling over the mystery of Dr. Andrea Kirkpatrick’s death, Okoro’s sudden dropping of his thesis defense and effectively fleeing the planet and not coming back for decades. His mother had been dying. Volka could see how he might return and might even have convinced himself that the fear he’d experienced in that initial flight had been overblown. Foul play hadn’t even been suspected. Could the admiral perhaps open an investigation into that matter? Or maybe threaten to, in order to pressure for Okoro’s release? She’d ask her tonight.
To Sixty, she admitted, “Politics ruins so many things. Even among people who are supposedly religious.” Luddeccean politics had set her on the run and nearly cost her her life.
Sixty looked down at her, expression serious. “But politics also tamed this planet’s volcano and built the Bestiary. Maybe it’s all in the intent?”
Her ears flicked, thinking about that, and Sixty said, “We’re nearly at the Pearly Gates.”
She lifted an eyebrow. He winked at her and looked ahead. Volka followed his gaze, and in a break in the hedge wall saw a pair of gates flung wide open. On an arch above them was inscribed, The Bestiary ~ Pearly Gates Entrance A few more steps and they were there. The gates certainly looked like they were made from mother-of-pearl. Carved with a scene of a garden with an apple tree, their surface was gleaming white with flecks of blue and purple. Just beyond the gates were humans dressed as angels. They stood on either side of a wide walkway—security, perhaps? They had blonde hair like James’s, but brown eyes, less pointy noses, and fuller lips. They were handsome and nearly identical. She wondered if plastic surgery was a prerequisite for the job. Light shone from behind their heads. If Volka had just arrived from Luddeccea yesterday, she might have been impressed; instead, she found herself faintly insulted. They were using her religion as entertainment, for a sort of amusement park, which wasn’t so bad, but they incarcerated people who openly believed in said religion.
Sixty said, “I hear the Ice Gate is more spectacular—there are yetis, woolly mammoths, and dire wolves there. The Fire Gate has the dragon. But those are on other sides of the park.”
Dire wolves? Dragon? Volka’s ears perked.
A few steps in front of them, there was a human behind a podium emblazoned with the words Saint Peter. “Saint Peter” had a long white beard and was dressed in white robes. As guests filed inside, he called out, “Tickets, please.”
Sixty tapped his head, his eyes went vacant, and the man said, “Welcome.” Carl was fortunately mostly tucked under Sixty’s collar, and “Saint Peter” didn’t give them a lecture about needing a leash.
The walk bifurcated before another row of hedges just inside the entrance. Sixty guided her right. At first, it didn’t look much different than the pedway, though there was a noticeable lack of hovers overhead. Volka squinted and noticed they seemed to be in some sort of enclosed dome. It was almost invisible, but here and there she caught a faint shine and a distortion in the few clouds above, as though light was filtering through glass beads…
A faint buzzing and high-pitched laughter filled Volka’s ears. She took a breath, prepared to ask, but in the next minute she and the other patrons were swarmed by birds and butterflies with colorful, iridescent wings, each about the size of a hand spread. The creatures breezed past the crowd, rose and returned, and one stopped and hovered in front of Volka. Her eyes went wide. It wasn’t a bird or butterfly—
“Fairies,” cried a child. “Are they alive?”
Volka inhaled and smelled metal, plastic, and synth skin. It was a machine hovering in front of her nose, but it was a beautiful machine. It had a body shaped like a human woman in exquisite miniature, only a little longer than one of Volka’s fingers. The fairy-doll-machine had violet hair and eyes, pink rosebud lips, a pert little nose, and tan skin. She wore a dress made of leaves and flower petals. Some of the fairies had bird wings, but the one in front of Volka had wings a bit like a butterfly, though shimmering and translucent instead of colorful.
“Hello,” Volka breathed, holding out a finger as though to a bird.
Alighting upon it, the tiny woman giggled and threw out her arms. “Welcome to the Bestiary!”
The tiny machine was artwork in motion, and Volka focused, trying to send her image to Sundancer—the ship, she’d noticed, liked animals and machines that could fly. She felt a flood of happiness from the ship and couldn’t help but smile—both at Sundancer’s interest and the charm of the mechanical fairy. Bowing, Volka said, “Thank you, ma’am. What is your name?”
The fairy curtseyed deeply. “I am Brynhildr.” Rising, she pulled a pin from a tiny scabbard. “I am the slayer of mice, rats, and other vermin that try to infiltrate the Bestiary. I serve the mighty Queen of the Fairies, Freyja herself!”
Volka licked her lips at the thought of warm, dead rats. “Very pleased to meet you, Brynhildr. I wish we could hunt together.”
Over Brynhildr’s head, Volka saw Sixty roll his eyes, but he was smiling.
“T’would be an honor, ma’am!” Brynhildr declared.
From behind Volka came a human cry of, “Ouch! It electrocuted me.”
Raising her pin-sword, Brynhildr shouted, “Some foul fiend has pulled a fairy wing! I must depart!” The tiny fairy-machine leapt into the air, her wings buzzing so fast they were nothing more than a shimmer of light. Brynhildr vanished. Around the guests, other fairies departed, and a little girl grumbled, “Someone pulled a wing. Didn’t they read the script? When that happens, they all leave. Jerk.”
“Yeah, jerk!” said another small child voice.
“Hush,” said the voice of an adult, though Volka was barely listening. With Brynhildr gone, she found herself staring at Sixty. There was the faintest of smiles on his lips, and the barest of a dimple on his cheek. He was designed by an artist, too. But he was more than an artwork. He didn’t follow a “script.”
Inclining his head down the path, he said, “Come on, there’s more.”
Volka fell into step with him. Underneath Sixty’s collar, Carl gave a sad little squeak.
“Carl?” she whispered. “There were fairies.”
“Not edible. Not interested,” Carl replied.
Sixty cast a worried look in Volka’s direction. Volka shook her head sadly…and then the wind changed, and she picked up new scents that did not belong to machines, but to red blooded, edible animals. Her feet picked up speed, and in that moment the Dark really did seem far away.
“I think you’ll like the next exhibit,” Sixty said cryptically, giving her a smirk.
She knew she would. Within a few more steps they were beyond the hedge, and she saw what her nose had noticed moments ago. Hidden behind the hedge was a meadow, and in the center of it were creatures she recognized from books of fairy tales in Mr. Darmadi’s library. “Unicorns!” she exclaimed. There was a whole herd of them, and they were just as they’d been illustrated in the book: the color of moonbeams, lithe and slender as deer with a single, faintly glowing spiral horn atop their foreheads. “How? I thought they were myths!”
“They were only myths,” Sixty replied. “They were brought to life with genetic engineering.” He canted his head. “They’re cowering. Probably from me. I am the opposite of a virgin.”
Volka huffed and bit back a smile.
The unicorns were clustered together at the center of the meadow, stamping their feet. Volka moved steadily over the grass toward them, inhaling deeply. No one called her back. The unicorns showed absolutely no sign of fear of her, but they were upset by something, rolling their eyes and staying packed tightly together. She licked her lips.
Sixty’s footsteps were loud in the sod behind her. “Are you stalking them?”
“No, I …” Volka checked her stance. Halting, face flushing, she looked up at him. “I…I was…stalking them.” She bit her lip and rolled on her heels. “I haven’t had breakfast and they smell delicious.”
&nb
sp; Sixty’s face was set in his serious General expression. “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting—”
Volka rubbed her arm. “They are pretty, too. Really, they are. Magical. So were the fairies, and I can’t wait to see the dragon.” Her lips pursed. It was all magical, and even, dare she say, romantic. She had half an inkling to jokingly ask Sixty if he was courting her. She blinked. In No Weere, he’d said the onset of her season hadn’t let him court her properly. Was he courting her now?
General Sixty lifted an eyebrow. “Pretty delicious?” The angelic smile returned. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself—”
Carl cut him off with a loud squeak. The unicorns snorted and bugled.
“What’s wrong?” someone cried from the pedway.
In the distance, Volka heard a sound like thunder, though there was not a cloud in the sky—though it did sparkle oddly. The sound approached them, the rumble becoming a roar. Around them people started to scream, and the sparkles in the sky rippled like water. Was it some sort of globe above them?
Before she could ask, the ground beneath her shook and she threw out her arms, desperately trying to keep from falling.
16
Rolling Thunder
Galactic Republic: Shinar
The “holobead” dome above Shinar’s Bestiary Park didn’t just prevent passing hovers from stealing free peeks into the park while keeping dragons, manticore, and other genetically created winged beasts inside. It also assured the park was always sunny and temperate. 6T9 couldn’t see outside the dome, but the local ethernet assured him that the skies outside the dome were sunny as they appeared to be. Yet thunder was rumbling and rolling, bearing down upon them. It wasn’t artillery, he knew that, but the knowledge gave him no comfort; he’d know what to do if it was artillery.
Carl squeaked pitifully, and his claws dug into 6T9’s shoulders. Humans screamed, unicorns did too, and then 6T9’s vestibular system went offline. His legs wobbled as he lost his balance, and the hedges tipped sideways in his vision.
“The earth is moving!” Volka cried.
Which was when 6T9 realized his vestibular system was fine. The hedges by the walkway were tipping sideways, and the ground beneath his feet was rising. Volka’s lighter body nearly tumbled over. 6T9 grabbed her by the arm and Carl by the tail, making the werfle squeal. He dragged them both down the slope rising beneath them, tipping the meadow at a near forty-five-degree angle…and then the tremor was past, but he could hear it rolling on through the city.
“Are you all right?” Volka asked. “That couldn’t have been scheduled maintenance…could it?”
6T9 could just see the tops of the unicorns’ heads on the other side of the rise that had formed. An earthquake that lifted the ground would wreak havoc on human structures. His eyes lifted to the holobead dome, and his Q-comm hummed, analyzing the force of the quake and how it would impact the Bestiary’s structure.
“Sixty, please let me go,” Volka whispered.
6T9’s Q-comm flashed white. Seconds later, his vision came back to him. He was leaning over Volka, his back parallel to the sky, one arm wrapped around her waist, pressing her into a crouch. He was grasping Carl by the tail with the other hand, and the werfle was squealing piteously.
Grabbing the crying Carl, Volka started to speak. “What is—?”
A thump sounded beside them, sending sod and grass flying, and then another, and another. The sources of the impact were the dome’s fist-sized holobeads. Screams rose around them—human and unicorn. An impact hard enough to fracture Volka’s spine hit his shoulder.
From Volka’s wrist, Bracelet chirped, “May I just say, this is exactly the kind of adventure that makes me glad I don’t have a body.”
Another impact hit the back of 6T9’s head, rattling his teeth. Nebulas, just when he needed his Q-comm the most, he was going to lose it! Of all the petty injustices in the universe …
Wait. When did his non-Q-comm self think about petty injustices? Was he still himself? “Give me a metaphor!” 6T9 shouted as holobeads pelted the ground like hail.
“Give you a what?” Volka asked.
“Are you a few monkeys short of a barrel, Sixty?” Carl squeaked.
6T9 laughed in relief and pulled Volka to him more tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I still have my Q-comm; it’s still in place. I was hit on the back of the head—”
“And you’re still not the sharpest cookie in the shed,” Carl quipped.
“—and I understand that!” 6T9 exclaimed. “It still works!”
Volka gasped. “I’m over cloud sixty-nine for you, but I think you can let us go now.”
6T9 blinked. Her body was pressed too tightly to him—she probably wasn’t able to breathe properly. She was conscious, she sounded unhurt, and there were no more falling holobeads. Where her body touched his, sensors came to life. He let her go quickly before he had a hardware malfunction.
A child cried, “Is that unicorn dead?”
There were probably injuries among humans and beasts alike, but as Volka unbowed and turned toward him, he almost laughed with relief. Clutching Carl to her, she didn’t share his joy. “We should see if there are any injured,” she said and began striding across the grass.
6T9’s circuits flickered, and he froze. That should have been his first thought.
“We should get Sundancer and go home!” Carl said.
Volka stopped mid-stride and held the werfle out in front of her. “Do you think there is more danger, Carl?”
His whiskers twitched, and his tiny ears went flat. “It’s not a thinking, Volka, it’s a feeling. I feel better than before but…” He put two paws over his nose. “I’m sorry I couldn’t predict this, Hatchling. I’ve never felt something quite like this before. My whiskers still feel wrong, even if I feel better, and I don’t know if it is just from being wound up all morning.”
6T9’s systems stabilized. He connected to the ether and jogged over to Volka and Carl. “The earthquake is being reported as high as 9.1 on the Richter scale, but some stations say that’s a mistake, that it can’t have happened—”
“They say it couldn’t have happened?” Volka asked.
His Q-comm sparked as he scanned downloaded data. Shinar commentators were arguing whether or not the quake that just raised the ground and broke the dome was real or a rumor fed by doctored ether vids. He couldn’t wonder about that. “There could be severe aftershocks.” His attention left the ether and came back to the real world. Standing behind Volka, his eyes went to the orange werfle, still dangling in Volka’s hands. “Carl, your tail!” It was clearly broken at exactly the spot 6T9 had grabbed it.
Carl tucked his tail toward his tummy and grasped it with his bottom paws. “It’s nothing.”
“I broke it!” 6T9 said.
Whiskers twitching, Carl shook his head. “I really don’t have many nerve endings there—”
“You squeaked in pain,” 6T9 protested. He hadn’t noticed, minutes ago, but reviewing what happened, it was clear.
“You saved my life!” Carl hissed and then smoothed his whiskers. “Or at least this body’s life. It would have been very inconvenient if I’d been hit by one of those glass-techno-hail balls.”
“Do you need it set, Carl?” Volka asked.
Over the rise created by the quake, 6T9 saw med ‘bots hovering in and vet ‘bots for the unicorns.
“No, let’s just get out of here,” Carl replied.
“After we check on the humans,” Volka replied, putting Carl on her shoulder and walking up the new slope in the meadow.
Frozen in shock once again, 6T9’s eyes dropped to Volka’s arm that he’d squeezed a moment ago. A vivid red mark was visible just below her sleeve.
At the top of the rise, Volka paused. “Oh,” she said, looking down.
6T9 looked over her shoulder, and down a 3.33 meter cliff created by the quake. In front of Volka, Carl, and 6T9 was a crevasse—a deep ochre scar in the clover studded grass.
“Please remain calm!” a med ‘bot said. There were med ‘bots hovering among the humans—and vet ‘bots with the unicorns. There was a man on the ground, possibly unconscious or worse. A woman was cradling her arm, other people were sitting on the ground, one man was turning in slow circles—a concussion, maybe? 6T9 could hop across, but he wanted to stay with Volka.
6T9’s ethernet pinged with a call from Lieutenant Young, but he was transfixed by the sight of the injured humans. His feet hadn’t moved on their own. He was allowed to stay with Volka. He should be ashamed, but he was relieved. And then another thought occurred to him…could he leave Volka? The urge to stay beside her was so strong—had he traded one set of unbreakable rules for another?
On Volka’s wrist, Bracelet coughed. “Miss Volka, one of the new winky-wink Consular staff winky-wink is trying to reach you. He wants you to bring Sundancer to the Consulate immediately.”
Carl snorted. “Winky-wink?”
Bracelet sniffed. “I know how to be discreet.”
Volka looked down at her wrist. “Do you know what it is about?”
“Not officially,” Bracelet replied. “I do kind of wonder if it is related to this little event I picked up on restricted surveillance channels just two minutes ago.” From Bracelet’s apex a holo appeared. In the holo, a middle-aged woman with mussy, gray-streaked hair, wearing a long white coat in what looked like a lab of some sort appeared. “My research predicted this would happen, and you refused to publish it. That was a 9.1 quake, just as I predicted. It will be followed by an eruption of Mt. Enmerker within fifteen hours. My God, we have to warn people!”
A man’s voice rose out of the holo-camera’s view. “God, Darlene? Are you trying to incite people?”
The woman who must be Darlene lifted her hands and dropped them to her sides. “It was a figure of speech—”
“Security, get her to help, immediately!”
“What?” Darlene cried. There was the buzz of a stunner, and she fell from the camera’s view.
