by Stu Jones
“So, you were fine with Mos because his Musuls only killed each other?”
“No, no. It’s not that. I didn’t even know Mos back then. I met Faruq first.” Sard it all to hell. “You’re twisting my words.”
Husniya bores a hateful stare into me for what feels like an eternity—then bursts into a fit of laughter. “You’re so easy to mess with. Bring up religion and you get your pants in a twist.”
I give her a semi-playful nudge with my shoulder. Just hard enough she has to take a couple of steps to regain balance. “Your brother was the most genuine person I’d ever met, Musul or not. I knew it right away. He was who he said he was.” I cast a glance at Husniya. “That’s a hard quality to find in people these days. The only thing I knew was I wanted to be around him. That he was someone worth fighting with and ... for.”
We wind down through the maze of debris to the hidden entrance beneath. The cold is becoming unbearable. Hopefully, someone is waiting by the door. I bang on it with my fist, hammering out this week’s code. From within, the rusted crossbar squeals as it slides free. The hidden door cracks open and Husniya and I shuffle inside.
A shadow darkens the already dim light of the room, broad shoulders blocking the single bulb dangling from the ceiling.
“Look who’s back,” the familiar voice says. “How was your trip to Logos?”
“Mos.” I embrace the Kahangan, slapping his shoulder. “We almost got killed by a bunch of radicals in the Vapid, but my little sharpshooter here saved us.”
“Of course she did.” He opens his arms to Husniya, who crashes into him and squeezes as hard as she can. “All that training. All those hours of trigger reset drills and breathing control—it’s all worth it when the chips are down. Good job, Hus. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks Mos,” she mumbles into his chest, her thin frame dwarfed in the safety of his meaty embrace.
“And Kahanga?” I shut the door and draw the bar back across. “Your family? Is everything moving forward with the rebuilding?”
Mos guffaws, the sound clipped like a bark. “It’s coming along, though I’m afraid to leave my home enclave for too long. The setbacks have come hard and fast for us. Nature cannot stand a vacuum. With Nazal out of the picture, every power-hungry fool with delusions of grandeur has come to grovel, steal from, or even attack us. A few of these warlords affiliate with Kapka, which means they have access to weapons and supplies. That makes them more difficult to root out and eliminate.”
“Do you have what you need? From us, I mean?” I say, slipping out of my heavy jacket.
“Support, yes. Supplies, no. It takes a lot of resources to rebuild something so fractured.”
“In time, Mos, under your leadership, Kahanga will thrive. You’ll see.”
I rub my hands together, hoping friction will bring my fingertips back to life. “Hey, have you seen the old man? I need to talk to him.”
Mos gives a shake of his jug-like head. “I was told he’s resting. Hasn’t been feeling well today.”
“Mmm, tomorrow then. It’s just as well. I’m smoked.”
Husniya holds out her hand. I unload my pistol and hand it to her.
“You’ve got dinner?” I ask.
She pats her canvas bag. “I’ll drop this stuff with Gus in the kitchen. It’ll be ready shortly.”
“Okay. I’ll see you there after I drop my stuff. Tomorrow, we’ll gear up and plan for that other thing.”
“Yeah, Mos, guess what? We know where—”
“Not now, Hus. Tomorrow okay. I gotta pitch this right.”
“Okay,” Husniya says, swallowing her excitement. “G’night Mos.” She heads off to check our weapons back into the armory and take the food to Gus.
“Goodnight, my little Baqirian princess,” Mos calls out.
Husniya grins over her shoulder as she retreats.
“Where what is?” Mos says, staring at me.
“Tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”
My dark-skinned friend puts a massive paw on my shoulder. “Sure. Then how about you join me for a drink after you eat?”
“You know I don’t do sloop, Mos.”
“Not sloop. Ghofaun is breaking into a bottle of his unfiltered rice wine. He calls it Dreamy Clouds. Makes it himself,” Mos says with a wink.
“Dreamy Clouds, huh?” I shrug, my body heavy. Perhaps it’ll help me sleep. “Yeah, I suppose I could go for some of that.”
***
“Mila ... Don’t leave me ... Please.”
“Faruq!”
My body wrenches awake from the alcohol-driven blackout. My chest heaves, my mind clouded with the fading of painful memories.
Sard. What time is it?
I sit up on my narrow cot still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. A groan escapes my lips. This is what I get for being talked into drinking with a Kahangan and a Zopatian monk. The hangover amplifies my exhaustion, sending a flotsam of failure and jetsam of regret floating upward into my consciousness like trash rising to the surface of a scum-covered pond. I’m so tired. So many things remain unresolved. So many friends lost, missions failed. Months and years of tireless pursuit of the impossible. How long can I continue like this before I’m all used up?
The door to my chambers cracks open and Husniya pokes her head in. “Are you going to sleep all morning? Bilgi is up if you want to talk to him.”
“Give me a minute,” I moan, rubbing my eyes.
“What happened to you?”
“Dreamy Clouds.”
“What?”
“Forget it. Just—can you find me some krig?”
The girl takes a step closer and mumbles something to herself.
I try to raise my eyes, but the light is killing me. “Huh?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll see if I can find some. Here.” She hands me a stack of clean clothes and a warm basin of water from Filly. “I picked out stuff I thought you’d wear.”
“Thanks, Hus. Go find Bilgi. Tell him I’ll be at command in a few.”
“Okay.” Husniya disappears, pulling the door shut.
I’m clean and halfway through getting dressed when I hear the familiar chirp of a waiting PED message. I rifle through my satchel and pull the old janky piece of Gracile tech out. It chirps again. Clicking down to new messages, I hit the enter key and it pops onto the screen; a response from Gil. “’Bout time,” I murmur. At least he’s alive.
Mila. There’s no time to explain. The stockpile is compromised. Bad things are happening here. I need your help. Now. ~ Gil
That’s it? I scroll back. Did I miss something? Nope. That’s the whole message. Damnation. Always cryptic. Since when did Gil ever want or need my help? Sard. Do I go after the stockpile or Faruq? If I don’t move on Faruq, I may lose him again. But if Kapka gets to the stockpile, we’re in trouble. Need to talk to Bilgi first.
I finish dressing and head out to the meeting room connected with command, dropping my soiled garments with Filly in the boiling room along the way. A man rewiring one of the lights greets me with hope in his eyes.
“Paladyn. What good will you do for the people today?” he says.
“Whatever I can.” I fake a smile. Did I mean that?
“Very good. Blessings upon your task, Paladyn,” he says.
I push into the meeting room, the grinding of the old metal door heralding my arrival as it swings inward. At the dust-covered table sits Bilgi and Ghofaun as well as a handful of others, including that jackbag, Giahi. How is it he always manages to get invited to these things?
“You look exhausted,” Ghofaun says as I take a seat next to him at the table.
“No thanks to you and your Dreamy Clouds.”
“It’s a little strong, especially for the uninitiated.” Ghofaun bares a sly smile. “Here, this should help.” The monk slides a cup of steaming krig in my direction.
“Thanks.” My voice disappears into the tin cup as it rises to my lips. “Where’s Mos?”
“He had to leave ear
ly this morning. Overnight, a rival faction attacked his people,” Bilgi says, his voice like sand grating beneath the wheel of a cart.
I nod and take another sip. “They’re having a hard time of it.”
The old man coughs into his sleeve.
“Feeling all right, Bilgi?” Yuri asks from across the table.
I turn my eyes back to Bilgi. Is he sick? After the loss of the arm, he recovered and had been in relatively good shape. But looking at him now, something’s not right. His eyes are sunken into his pallid face and there’s a sheen of sweat on his brow. He coughs again, harder this time and the group at the table shrinks away.
“Go rest, Bilgi. We can handle this,” I say, setting down my krig.
“I’m fine,” he says. “It’s only a fever. We need to discuss what you found out on your trip.”
The room waits for my answer, the anticipation palpable. Even Giahi sits with his hairy forearms crossed.
Where do I start? “There’s more to all of this than we first believed. What’s even more strange is it all seems connected.” I take a sip of krig, the hot black liquid sliding down my throat like warmed engine oil.
“Please continue,” Bilgi says, coughing again.
Start them off easy, Mila. “The butchered people. That’s not Kapka’s doing, nor is it the Rippers. It’s something else.”
“Yes,” Bilgi says. “But we still don’t know what?”
“No. The bodies are cauterized at the wound site as though by flame. No weapon I know of can do that and no one I’ve spoken to has any answers. The sisters of the Vestal order said some of the Logosian people were taken, too.”
Bilgi takes a moment to contemplate my words. “Hmm. And what else, Mila?”
Step two. “Kapka’s threat has elevated. His people have upped the bombings and are now executing travelers in the Vapid. Kapka is near possessed, searching for an old-world Russian nuclear weapons stash. He knows if he finds it he’ll have the power to bend everyone to his will. He’s preparing for open war.”
Whispered curses cascade around the table.
“Do we have any idea where this stash might be?” Yuri asks, his wizened eyes cool and calculating.
“Actually, we might. I got a message from Gil, my old information broker. He confirmed the stockpile Kapka wants is in Vel, but he also said something bad was happening and that he needed help.”
“Then we need to move. We can’t risk Kapka getting his hands on something like that or we’re all doomed,” Bilgi says, his tone resolute.
“There’s something else.” I pause.
The room grows quiet. Bilgi narrows his eyes. “Well, out with it, girl.”
Here goes nothing. “Faruq is alive.”
Giahi groans and others exchange glances and hushed words. “This again?”
I glare at Giahi. “You were there when we saw him in the Vapid. You know he could be alive.”
“Yeah, I know, and you tracked him for days and found nothing. That was years ago,” Giahi scoffs.
“Listen, I know you all don’t believe me,” I call out above the voices. “But I have good information on where he is this time. He’s alive and if I can—”
“Enough of this sard,” Giahi says, leveling a sausage-like finger at me. “You are not going to risk the lives of our people and waste our resources looking for some Musul you had a crush on. He’s a corpse by now. Stop being a child and get over it.”
I rocket to my feet, rage—pure and volcanic—bursting forth. “You don’t get to interrupt me. You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself, which is why you’re a coward who doesn’t have the stones to be a leader. And I swear, Giahi, if you ever interrupt me while I’m speaking again, I’ll stomp your sarding guts out!”
Ghofaun grabs me by the shoulders and Bilgi manages to stand between me and my opponent, bracing himself on the table. My friends urge me to sit.
Giahi reclines there, smirking, his stare traveling around the table to each and every person. “Is this the sort of rash, hot-tempered leadership we need around here? Do we really want this irrational cupcake gambling with our lives?”
Bilgi’s expressionhardens. “Giahi, do shut up.”
“I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“This just became your last command meeting.” Bilgi forces the words through gnashed teeth. “Remove yourself or I’ll have you thrown out.”
Giahi stands, glowering. “My last command meeting? She’s the loose cannon—kick her out. Oh no, but you couldn’t do that to your pet—”
“Get out.” Bilgi shouts, his frail body quaking with the effort.
Giahi locks stares with me, grinning devilishly as he moves to the door.
“I’ll knock that stupid smirk right off your saucebox.” I jab my finger around Ghofaun’s shoulder at him. “Don’t think so? Wait and see.”
“Sure, Mila. You bet,” he says, slamming the door on the way out.
“Mila, please. The billowing flame is only capable of destruction,” Ghofaun says softly, his voice as calm as a flowing stream. “Please, sit.” He motions to my chair.
Bilgi releases a sigh. He slumps back into his seat, looking even older and more sickly. “I’m sorry about that. I invited him because I assumed he could act like an adult.”
Ghofaun gives me an earnest nudge. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” A deep breath swells in my lungs. “I’m sorry for the outburst, guys.” I glance at the faces in the room. “This matter over Faruq is personal to me, as you all well know.”
“Mila, dear.” Yuri’s tone is gentle, but it holds an air of pity. “It’s been years since we had anything of substance to go on regarding Faruq.”
His meaning isn’t lost on me. I press my teeth together.
“Mila, I love your passion, I always have.” Bilgi leans closer. “But you know we can’t go looking for Faruq. We can’t risk our people on a dangerous errand with little chance of success. I know you must understand this.”
“Bilgi, I wouldn’t consider it if I didn’t think the chances were good—”
“The information, where did it come from?” Bilgi interrupts.
He’s not going to like this. “A Gracile who traded me for it.”
“A Gracile.” He sits back, folding his arms. “After all this time, a Gracile appears and you actually believe the intel is reliable?” He pauses and clears his throat. “Please, everyone give us a moment.”
Yuri gives me a patient dip of his head and Ghofaun pats my arm. Chairs scrape their legs on the floor. Mutters follow and the rest shuffle out, leaving Bilgi and me alone.
A stillness descends upon the room. Minutes pass.
“Okay, Bilgi. Speak your piece.” I say, breaking the stalemate.
“Mila.” Bilgi sighs. “You have to start thinking big picture. Look at me. I can’t do this forever. If you are going to lead, you have to have everyone’s best interest at heart when you make a decision. That’s the only way people will follow you. We cannot sacrifice so much for one man, even if he were alive.”
Don’t you dare cry, Mila.
“I need you to focus on the threat Kapka poses in trying to find this arsenal. If he knows it’s in Vel and he beats us there, we’re done. You understand that? Kapka cannot be allowed to put his hands on nuclear weapons. Even if Faruq is alive, he won’t be if Kapka blows us all to hell.”
I hate it when he’s right. “I get it, Bilgi,” I say, staring at my lap.
The door dashes open, Bilgi and I look up.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Ghofaun says, out of breath. “But Husniya is gone.”
“What do you mean gone?” I say, standing.
“She must have slipped out earlier. Jape at the door said she left in full gear.” The monk is already wearing his jacket and carrying my stuff.
“How long?” Bilgi asks.
“Hard to say. If she was listening in, thirty minutes. But if she left this morning, a few hours.”
If she was listening, she heard what I said about having seen Faruq in the Vapid. She knows I kept it from her. I’m already moving to the door.
“Mila, wait. Think about this,” Bilgi calls out.
“Bilgi, I will not stand by and allow something to happen to Husniya.” Taking my sling bag and heavy jacket from Ghofaun, I pause long enough to hold the old man’s stern gaze.
“I can’t allow this,” he replies, his voice full of anguish.
“Then designate whoever you’d like to try and stop us—” I look to the monk, whose expression is as hard as forged iron. “Just don’t send anyone you want back.”
Chapter Nineteen
VEDMAK
The two-kilometer tunnel is narrow and dark. Dead, overhead glass bulbs no longer light the way. My scythe, crackling and alive, does the trick, bathing the rocky walls in cobalt light. Yet even my weapon’s power source is fading, the white-hot blade sputters as the core nears the end of its reserve. It will need recharging soon.
Alongside, Gil—my pathetic stim-addicted prisoner—scurries with a hollow look in his beady eyes. A real fear of death and the allure of more stims has ensured his compliance. He will show me the way into Vel—the last great secret Etyom has to offer. He said the stockpile was not what we would expect and that it would need to be seen to be believed. On any other day, I would have shed his blood to gain the answer. But, after a string of such tiresome defeats, the lure of a game is too appealing.
The door before us is heavy, solid steel by the looks of it. It may even be hermetically sealed. Embedded in the wall is a key panel. Crude but effective. Depending on the length of the code, it would be impossible to guess. Lucky for me, I won’t have to.
“Open it.”
Gil scurries ahead and hovers around the keypad. “Are—are you sure you want to do this? It’s not safe. Bad things happened in there—”
“Bad things are about to happen out here,” I say, holding the scythe closer to his face. The plasma spits and chokes on the fading battery. “Open it.”
He doesn’t reply, but instead whimpers, tapping in a code. The relentless clicking of the keys begins to grate on my nerves. Just as I’m about to put him out of his misery for taking too long, the door pops open with a clunk—hiss. Through the crack, a stream of light flickers arrhythmically.
