by Stu Jones
“Here we are,” I say.
“This is your meeting place?” Oksana can’t hide her disgust.
“It’s not my place. It was all I could do to get your clumsy footed group into Logos undetected.”
“And next I suppose we will have to crawl on our hands and knees through the filth to get to the secret room behind the wall? That’s how the rodents do it, correct?”
My skin prickles hot. I’m going to break her perfect Gracile nose. “Lady, this isn’t New Etyom. This is the real world. We make do with what we have—a concept you’re going to have to climb down off your high horse and get used to.”
“Thanks to you and Demitri, if the rumors are true.”
“Rumors have a habit of warping the facts. You left out your benevolent Leader with his glorious plan to dissolve us all into a black hole. Oh, and let’s not forget Kapka and his radical idiots, and—”
Oksana holds up a slender gloved hand. “As I said—rumors.”
“They’re not sarding rumors. I was there, Gracile. Your Leader tried to wipe everyone out before preserving your kind onto a black hole forever. It’s only because of the Robust resistance and Demitri’s courage you’re still breathing.”
“That’s insanity. The Leader wouldn’t do that.”
“But he killed Demitri’s brother, didn’t he? Your mate?”
Oksana is silent, her eyes glazed over.
“You tell me what you know about Faruq and I’ll tell you everything I know about what happened.”
“Mila?” Husniya’s voice drifts down from the floor above.
“Come down, Husniya. You’re going to want to hear this.”
Husniya descends the stairs, leaning her rifle against the banister.
Oksana clears her throat. “The Musul Faruq is alive.”
Husniya looks at me, her pale face a terrible mixture of hope and fear. “Mila, is that true?”
“Grab a chair, Husniya,” I say, turning my focus upon Oksana. “Listen to me now. This is not a game. If you’re making this up—”
“Making it up?” The Gracile screws up her face. “Why would I waste my time?”
“You need to know how serious I am about this.”
Oksana seems to swallow her instinct to insult me and instead simply tilts her head. “I understand.”
“So?”
“This is an exchange, remember? You tell me what I need to know first. Then I tell you what I’ve discovered,” the Gracile says.
“Hang on,” Husniya starts. “You can’t lead us on like that. I want to know about my brother.”
The Creed shift, their lifeless eyes falling on my protege.
“Hang on, Hus.” I motion for her to stay sitting. “Let me do this.”
There’s a breathlessness inside me that seems to pull at my insides. I compose myself. “All right, I’ll tell you what I know. But first, you need to give me some space to breathe.” I look to the Creed standing two steps to my right and shoo it away.
Oksana barks out a command in a language that sounds like old Russian. In response, the Creed chant, “Acknowledged,” in unison, take a few steps toward the outer edge of the room and slump into some sort of hibernation mode, their processor fans still whirring softly.
“Thanks.”
Oksana waves her hand. “Please continue.”
“So, you’re what to him? A sister-in-law?”
“Who?”
“Demitri.”
Oksana sits forward. “I thought I was asking you the questions?”
“You did.” I scrunch my brow. “But I need to know the context and how you fit into all of this. It’s important.”
Oksana smirks. “It’s irrelevant, and I don’t make a habit of telling Robusts my business.”
The old heat warms in me again. Breathe, Mila. “Listen, this is going to come as a shock to you because you like to think you don’t associate with my kind—but Demitri wasn’t just some guy I ran into. He was my friend. The kind of friend you risk your life for, and I don’t talk about my friends unless I know what the purpose of such talk is.”
Oksana smooths down the pleats on her coat. “I guess you could consider me a sister-in-law of sorts. I was mated to Demitri’s neo-brother, Nikolaj. And as you’ve already pointed out—quite coldly, I might add—the Leader murdered him.” Her gaze lowers, her voice is neutral but deep inside, there’s real pain. “I want to know why. What the hell happened? Was the fall of New Etyom actually connected as the rumors suggest? I hate not knowing.”
A strange sympathy for this woman stirs. For a moment, she actually appears human. “It haunts you, not knowing what he died for.”
Oksana meets my stare. “It does.”
I let a moment pass in contemplation. “Demitri was troubled. He had a voice in his head that plagued him for years. A demon whose only purpose, it seemed, was to torture him. He knew he couldn’t tell anyone, that in your world up there, such brokenness was a fatal flaw. He would have been Ax’d.”
“Hold on,” Oksana says. The sound of two men laughing passes the front of the old dive. She waits until the voices dwindle before continuing. “What was it you said about a demon? Is this based on some superstitious old-world belief system?”
Don’t take it personally. “Yes. That shouldn’t surprise you. I’m Logosian.”
Oksana regards me with questioning eyes.
“Maybe you would feel more comfortable with Demitri’s theory on his condition?” I continue. “Demitri said he discovered a genetic flaw in himself. I didn’t really understand everything. Something to do with a protein, information never being destroyed and quantum entanglement. Basically, he was connected to something, or someone, long dead who still existed in another dimension. Anyway, he was so afraid of you people that he took drugs to suppress his condition. Drugs only made in Lower Etyom. His dealer in New Etyom was also an informant for the Robust resistance. And they knew what your Leader was up to—trying to give Graciles eternal life by making you a permanent feature on something called the event horizon of a black hole.”
The Gracile woman is looking at me like I’m crazy.
I continue anyway. “During a trip down here to get more of the narcotic that silenced his demo—em, voice—he got caught up in the resistance plan to stop your Leader. He met a young Musul girl and rescued her from a bombing in Zopat. He found she, too, was entangled with another. He figured if he could find out what they had in common, he could silence his voice forever.”
“So that’s what was happening that day? I remember the girl. He escaped with her in a VTV.”
I motion to Husniya, who is sitting still as a statue, an unreadable expression on her face.
“Oh?” Oksana replies, intrigued.
“Using a comparison of her DNA with his, he isolated this genetic key. But, as he tells it, he inadvertently gave the Leader the final thing he needed to create a sustainable black hole.”
“The ability to prove and contact extra-dimensions ...” Oksana says, though seemingly more to herself.
“When the Leader found that Demitri knew his plan, he had to try and stop him. He tried to capture Demitri, but when that failed, the next easiest way was to murder Nikolaj, crippling Demitri mentally.”
“That’s why my mate was murdered?”
“I’m afraid so. Then began our desperate bid to stop the unstoppable. All hell broke loose. The Leader accelerated his plan to kill everyone except the Graciles, Kapka and his fighters took it personally and we ... Well, we did our level best to stop it all. Even went into space to do it. Sounds crazy when I say it out loud.”
“So, you stopped the Leader from completing his plan?”
“Me and a whole bunch of my friends, including Demitri. A bunch of them died.”
Her eyes widen. “And Demitri? Did he survive the ordeal?”
“Yeah, he did, and he didn’t.” I pull on the back of my neck.
“What does that mean?”
“It means he physically
survived the crash landing as we fled from the Leader’s collapsing space station, but ... He wasn’t Demitri anymore. The stress, it was too much for him. Vedmak took over.”
“Vedmak?”
“The name he gave his voice.”
“I see. And where is this Vedmak who controls Demitri’s body, now?”
“I wish I knew. Never could find him, but he’s out there. I know he is. I must find him, too. Vedmak is planning something terrible.”
“Such as?” Oksana’s eyes search mine.
“I don’t know, exactly. But it’s bad.”
Silence fills the room, the muted cold seeping into my clothing.
“Sounds like more Robust hocus pocus to me,” she says finally.
“All right, Oksana. Your turn. Tell me everything you know about Faruq and where he is. I mean everything.”
She rights herself off the stool. “After the HAPs fell and our world was torn out from under us, those of my kind that survived had nothing left. No semblance of the life we had known and no one to lead us out of this hell. I did the only responsible thing I could and took charge.”
She looks distinctly uncomfortable as though this sort of sharing is not in her nature. Keep your thoughts to yourself, Mila.
“With nothing left of our world and no desire to live in yours, we tried to find a way out. Maybe a better life existed out there beyond the walls of the last city.” Oksana hangs her head.
What is that look? Failure? “Go on,” I urge.
“It’s called the Road of Death. The only way in from the outside world established long ago when this place was a mining colony.” Oksana raises her wet eyes to meet my gaze. “We were not fighters or survivors and were ill-equipped. Between fending off hungry savages and fighting the elements, we lost almost everyone. Those who did survive scattered. I don’t know where they are.”
Silence ensues for a moment as I wait for her to continue. The air in this dive is heavy and cold, stinging the warm tissues of my lungs with each breath and completing the desolate mood.
“I’ve tried to get out four times,” Oksana says. “Each and every time more prepared than the last, but it’s never enough. I don’t have the resources or the help to do it.”
Get on with it, woman. “How does this connect with Faruq?”
She holds up a hand to stay me. “This last attempt, I tried a different path and came across a Musul encampment far beyond the walls of the city.
I sit up. “What? When was this?”
“Just a week ago.”
I’d never considered looking outside the walls. “What do you mean encampment?”
“Just as it sounds. A place where they’re keeping things they don’t want others to know about. Stockpiled weapons and special prisoners to be exact. The madman, Kapka, is frantic. Searching for something that will turn the tide against his enemies, a weapon of mass destruction. The word is he’s found it. A nuclear missile stash in the Vel enclave. Apparently, the Soviets buried it there hundreds of years ago.”
No way. Is that what they’ve been hiding all along? Without a word, I fish into my sling bag and grab my old PED. Hardly ever use this thing anymore but it’s worth a try. I fire off a message to Gil, my old information broker. He’s from Vel. Maybe he’s heard something.
Oksana sees my distraction and stops talking. Husniya hasn’t said a word but I can tell by the anguish on her face, she’s dying inside. To this day, she still doesn’t know about my encounter with her brother on the Vapid road those years ago—how I’d had the chance to save him but hadn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her.
“Yeah, I’m listening. And Faruq?” I say.
“While trying to determine the best way around, my team intercepted a runner bringing information from Baqir.”
“I’ll be surprised if he told you anything,” I huff.
“He did not. My Creed were forced to silence him before he gave away our position, but he was carrying a message to the encampment. I had Zaldov here translate it.” She motions to a Creed soldier that has a strangely familiar look to him. For the first time, it occurs to me this particular Geminoid hasn’t left her side since we first met.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Zaldov starts in a hollow robotic voice. “The information we gained was quite informative. We were able to adjust our tactical planning according—”
“Okay, this is new.” I chuckle, waving for him to stop. “You’ve named them? What are they, pets?”
“Just this one.” She gives Zaldov’s synthetic arm a pat. “He’s special.”
“Well, I don’t trust it.”
Oksana smiles, the gesture loaded with an irritating amount of contrived emotion.
“So, what did it say?”
Oksana motions to Zaldov who recites the message.
“‘The criminal traitor Faruq will be transferred to this location in two days’ time. I will arrive to personally receive him. Have my tent ready. Spare this traitor, Faruq, no pain or injustice—but keep him alive. The Logosian and her band of heathen dogs must never be allowed to find him. Failure in this will be punished by death. Sworn this day—Governor Kapka, Savior of the Chosen People and Rightful Ruler of the Musul Nation.’”
It’s all I can do to keep from spitting on the floor in disgust.
“Did you verify Faruq was moved there?” Husniya pipes up.
Oksana scoffs. “Why would I do that? Your friend. Your problem. I’m simply trading information.”
“So, if I ask for your help in showing me where this encampment is, you’re going to tell me to get lost?” I cross my arms.
Oksana rises from her stool, motioning for her Creed, who spasm to life and step forward. “I’m not in the practice of babysitting Robusts.”
I stand, my face hot. “Listen here, you uppity sarding church bell. You think you’re better than me, but you’re not. You’re just like the rest of your selfish kind—like these Creed—cold and dead inside. No wonder you’re alone with only robotic puppets to keep you company. Demitri at least reconciled with his humanity.” I motion for Husniya to grab her rifle. “You can find your own way out of Logos. Come on, Husniya.”
I’ve taken three steps toward the door when the Gracile speaks.
“Mila.”
“What?” I stop but let her speak to my back.
“The Road of Death is to the southeast. Once you are on it, bear right at every fork. That path will take you to what you seek.”
I nod but still don’t turn around.
“Zaldov, come,” Oksana says.
“Good copy. Contingent fall in. Stealth movements only,” Zaldov says.
Without another word, Oksana leads her group out. Husniya and I stand aside, watching the strange troop move past.
Zaldov stops beside us. A bizarre toothy smile spreads the lead Geminoid’s lips apart, showing perfect white dentures. “Mila—”
“Nope. No, thank you. Whatever it is—I don’t need to speak with you.”
His eyes move rapidly as he processes my words. He rights himself and turns to Husniya, fake smile still stretched wide. “Husniya, I greatly enjoyed our meeting today. My hope is that fortune will bring us together again soon.”
Husniya appears stunned but smiles in return. “Thank you Zaldov. Yes, that would be nice.”
That would be nice?
“Zaldov, come,” Oksana says, and cracks the door and peeks out into the swirling snow.
Zaldov gives a slight bow to Husniya, then follows Oksana.
Husniya is still smiling as the strange group exits. She looks at me and shrugs. “What? He seems nice. Reminds me a little of Demitri.”
I shake my head. “Don’t put your trust in those abominations. They’re wholly unpredictable.”
Husniya crosses her arms, scowling. “You’re a miserable person sometimes, you know that?”
“Yeah, I do.” I grab the flimsy door and glance back at the teen who hasn’t moved. “Let’s go. Do you want to rescue Faru
q or not?”
“What sort of question is that? Of course I do.” She steps toward me.
“Then we better get back to Fiori before nightfall.”
Chapter Seventeen
VEDMAK
Dawn is breaking. A chilling wind snaps across the barren landscape, though the snows have subsided for now. That little suka didn’t kill me after all. All to save the whining child inside this head? Her mistake. It will be a special pleasure to remove her bowels with a blunt instrument.
A violent cough shudders from within, sending a wave a pain through every fiber of muscle, tendon, and bone. This Gracile shell is broken. The skull feels cracked. Dried blood crusts the skin. Deep slashes flay the body. One hand is now missing, though the severe injury seems to have been cauterized by the scythe. Yes, this body is broken, but it is not yet dead. At the lab, I can heal it. Then I can hunt my pet down and eviscerate the little bitch.
Just not yet.
Now is the time to move forward. So close to Vel, I cannot give up the prize.
I search for my mask, but it is nowhere to be seen. Not that it matters—the supply of Red Mist in the tank is likely depleted, anyway. I must maintain control by the sheer force of my will alone. With a loud groan, I roll to the side and push with the remaining hand until I’m standing. The world shifts and moves out of sync with the swivel of this heavy head. After a few moments, everything rights itself. The muscles of this Gracile machine feel weak, atrophied. To make it to Vel, I will need sustenance.
There’s nothing to eat out here, Vedmak.
Foolish boy. You were never a soldier. You know nothing of true survival.
My laser scythe lies in the snow. She didn’t take it either. What kind of idiot is she? Some earth-worshiping child of the Vapid? And to be roaming around with a damn tiger. A pity it did not come for me when I was at my best—it would have made a good cloak. I snatch up the scythe and use it as a prop, hobbling a step at a time in the direction of Vel, all the while scanning the environment for threats.
