Asymmetry

by A. G. Claymore

  It turned out that Tim did know… and he was fine, by the way. He was playing shatralang with the syndicate lugal.

  “She’s over in chalang block,” he muttered. He made a gesture and his heavy cavalry began advancing around the right flank of an infantry engagement. “Been holed up there since yesterday.” He nodded toward the Akkadian kingpin. “Serakh’s boys are keeping a hand in. They’ll stop the crowd from getting at her.”

  “It’s only been two days and she’s got her own riot going?” Rick blurted.

  “She didn’t waste any time,” Tim explained. “Came straight at a pack of Morfanians about ten minutes after you disappeared. She took a shiv off the first one and used that on the rest. Word got around that she was out and on the war-path. The rest of the folks on her enemies list aligned and backed her into a cell.”

  “And you’re sitting here playing games?” Freya demanded.

  “Serakh’s right,” he gestured to the Akkadian, still watching the engagement. Taking his attention from the match would have diminished his standing with the Syndicate. “She’s safer in there than out where anyone can slip a blade between her ribs.” Tim leaned in as his heavy cavalry wheeled toward Serakh’s right flank. “She’s alive and we know exactly where to get her. Dammit!”

  This last was in response to the pitfalls that Serakh’s engineers had laid on his right flank. Tim’s cavalry charge was broken.

  “Don’t feel bad, young eternal. For an alien, you play well enough. I’d imagine it’s hard to ignore your… abilities… and still concentrate on your own side of the game.” The Akkadian inclined his head. “Go and retrieve your boss.”

  The roar of sound would have drawn them even if Tim hadn’t known where to go. Rick glanced sidelong at Freya.

  “I know,” she confirmed. “I thought it was an angry mob but, now that we’re closer, it sounds more like a party.”

  Not just a party, it was a great party, especially for a prison. The music was throbbing, insistently alluring in a pelvic kind of way. At times it sounded as though it were coming from underwater and then it would break the surface and skitter off in some new direction.

  The crowd outside the cell was moving to the beat. Contraband substances were being passed around and someone had taken control of the overhead lighting panels, making them pulse with the music.

  “What the actual shit?” Rick muttered.

  “Serakh had someone take a few interface-tablets down to where she’s holed up,” Tim said. “Music is what keeps her going in here, remember? That’s how we found her. Not hard to channel an angry mob once they get their blood up so we turned the riot into a rave.”

  Commander Gabiola had founded the Long Range Group, built it up from nothing. Going from running an elite unit to sitting in a prison would be a hard adjustment for anyone. Without music, she would have gone completely insane.

  They pushed their way through, most of the prisoners giving way to the armed and armored strangers. Two Akkadians, large ones, stood aside from the open door, letting Rick and Freya in.

  Gabiola was moving with the beat, hands playing across the holographic interface projected by the tablets. The music was coming from the PA speakers in the hallway but it was just as loud in her cell where there was nothing but a carbon grille between her and the corridor.

  Another Akkadian stood near her, a shiv in his hand. He had the usual dark Akkadian skin and white hair but he was shaved except for a beard and a small shock of hair on top of his head. He looked them over, noticing the Alliance armor and weapons. He gave them a wary nod.

  She glanced over at the two Midgaard.

  Freya took a hesitant half-step toward her mentor.

  “Doc?” Gabiola glanced back at Rick in sudden recognition. “What brings you down to chalang block? Didn’t peg you for a music guy.”

  Freya closed her eyes and sighed. “Rick why the hells is everybody calling you ‘Doc’?” This was not how she’d imagined the moment going down.

  The music lost its dynamic elements and settled into a steady pulse. “Freya? Gods, girl! Is that really you?”

  Freya opened her eyes just in time to be wrapped in a bear-hug.

  “So deep in enemy territory!” Gabiola marveled. She leaned back to look at her protégé. “I’m surprised that anyone found me… here in this dusty back pocket of the Republic… but I’m not at all surprised to see that it’s you who did it!”

  Freya’s face couldn’t quite seem to decide on what expression it was going to go with at this sudden compliment.

  Gabiola leaned in closer. “How did you pull this off?”

  Freya settled on a smile. “Not here, Gabs. I’ll tell you everything when we’re back on my ship.”

  “Then let’s go!” Gabiola turned to the Akkadian. “Got anything in here you can’t replace, Arsh?”

  The Akkadian grinned, shook his head.

  Gabiola turned back to Freya, cocking a thumb at Arsh. “We’re a thing…”

  Worn out Welcome for Sale

  “Get moving!” Odin shouted. His people were in a fire-bucket chain, handing racks of modules into the backs of his shuttles.

  He’d been pleased to see that Fenris had shown the presence of mind to stage stolen modules out in the yard after filling the other shuttles. It allowed for a fast filling of Odin’s hold once he returned.

  And not a moment too soon. A chime sounded from his suit’s collar and a voice crackled in his ear. “My Lord,” a duty officer on his ship began, “the Dactari fleet has just jumped into Rykeria proximity. They’re moving to block us in against the grav well.”

  “Trying to force some decision on us, are they?” Odin moved out of the way as the crew started packing modules behind where he stood. “Where are the orbital and atmospheric forces?”

  “They’re between your surface teams and the fleet.”

  It seemed, for the moment, that the Dactari force was content with blocking the raid from returning to the ships of Odin’s fleet.

  Odin nodded to himself. “And you have a message from Freya?”

  “Commander Freya’s respects, Lord, and you’re to direct your forces to withdraw in any way the situation may permit.”

  Odin chuckled. “In other words, everything’s gone to shit, so why not try the flush handle.” He cut the link and looked up at the gathering clouds.

  Somewhere up there, a Dactari commander was savoring the implications of Odin’s conversation. He’d already known from Odin’s ‘failed’ ambush that the Alliance lawgiver was here.

  Killing the raiders would earn him a pat on the back from the defense secretary. Capturing the LRG leadership and the Alliance lawgiver deep in Dactari territory would put him on Republic-wide holo-channels.

  He’d be handing the triumvirs one hell of a big club to beat the Alliance with and that kind of thing had long term implications. Every time the ruling trio might feel the need a bit of military support, they’d trot him out for a holo-op.

  It wouldn’t do to leave such a valuable asset out in the fringes. The commander would know that a substantial promotion and cushy posting was just over his horizon.

  He was about to become a household name in the Republic but he needed to take the key players alive. His first move was to pin all hostile forces in place.

  This was no time to rush.

  No Takebacks?

  Solomon Arco, Planet 3428

  Viggo placed the stone in their submerged boat, his face nearly touching the surface of the water. He turned back to Roj for the next but the monk’s hands were empty.

  “That should do,” Roj told him, “at least until the spring runoff comes through here.” He waved at the canyon wall where a greenish tint ended half way up the cliff face. The flooding down here would raise the water level by at least ten meters in a fifteen-meter-wide river.

  No amount of stones would keep the boat pinned down under the river then. For now, they just wanted to hide the thing and only for a couple of days. After that, one
way or the other, it wouldn’t matter.

  Viggo waded back out of the water. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into here?” he asked.

  The chimera tossed her head, warbling in what sounded like an agreeable tone but it was the accompanying brain waves that registered her affirmative answer. Viggo wasn’t always sure if he was understanding her correctly but he was learning.

  “Yeah, don’t mind me,” Roj muttered. “Just glad to be part of the team.”

  “Hey, you made your choice when you decided to grab me at the edge of the highlands.”

  “I know, I know.” The monk sighed. “And it looks like it was probably the only sensible choice I could have made but I’d still prefer if someone else were accompanying you into the belly of the beast.”

  “Monastic pacifism?”

  “No, I’m just not an idiot.”

  Viggo considered that for a moment before giving a half nod of agreement. “So where’s the way up to the surface? I don’t want to wait around for the flood season to come.”

  “Should be right over there, behind that pile of deadfall, unless it got washed out last spring.” Roj moved off, picking his way over the tumble of rocks and debris, edging out into the water to get around the large pile of branches and jungle detritus that piled up at this bend in the river.

  “Well, the good news is that the path is still here,” Roj told him. “That sinkhole is a bit of a problem, though.”

  Viggo stopped next to him and cursed softly. “Just enough water seeping through from the river to keep it growing.”

  “The water’s still finding new paths from the building of your arco,” Roj said. “All that mass is compressing the ground underneath and the resulting pressure is pushing its way out into the surrounding areas. This region used to be much less boggy.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Viggo admitted, “but it doesn’t get us across this mess.” He turned to the pile of deadfall. An idea was growing in his head. He pulled out a long bamboo pole.

  “We can vault across,” he said, brandishing the pole. “Our elder sister can easily jump the clearing without our help,” he added.

  “Have at it, then,” Roj waved at the sinkhole.

  Viggo stopped and looked ahead at the possibilities. He could see the pole finding a hard bottom in the sinkhole, an important consideration if you wanted to avoid falling into the mixed density slurry.

  He took a few deep breaths and raced forward. He drove the pole down in the middle of the sinkhole, just where the large pad of rock should be and started to rise. He saw a blur of movement race past. As he neared the apogee of his arc, he realized that the chimera had jumped the pit easily but she’d carried Roj across on her back.

  The distraction cost Viggo his focus and the pole shifted beneath him. To his horror, it shifted off the pad of rock and down into the slurry of water and mud. He still had his forward momentum but now there was a substantial contribution from gravity as well.

  He reached out with his right arm as he slammed into the bank of the sinkhole, barely managing to grab onto the exposed roots that protruded from the soil. His body had hit the dirt hard, driving the breath out of him. He sucked in a deep breath, inhaling bits of the soil he’d knocked loose, and he hung there, coughing.

  He saw the jaws descend over his head and his whole body tensed. Even when you’re on friendly terms with a chimera, there’s still a primal element of fear when you see a large predator’s mouth closing over your body.

  The mouth closed on the upper part of his torso though, to his relief, her tusks were folded out of the way. Still, the smaller teeth were digging into his skin as she hauled him up to safety.

  He was deposited on the ground next to Roj, winded, bleeding from a few dozen small puncture wounds and covered in saliva. He looked up at her. “So, you could have carried me across on your back?”

  “Hey!” Roj exclaimed. “She’s not running a taxi service and, anyway, you were leaving her to get across on her own; why should she feel the need to carry your lazy ass?”

  “Fair enough.” Viggo closed his eyes but then he opened them and looked back up at the chimera. “Thanks for pulling me out and for sterilizing my new scars, I suppose…”

  The chimera preferred their food alive and fresh. Their saliva was one of the best antibiotics in existence, as well as a pretty good coagulating agent. Viggo’s bite-mark wasn’t even bleeding anymore and there was almost no chance of infection.

  Roj looked down at him. “Now that’s going to be an impressive scar, young man! A chimera bite on your chest? The young ladies love scars on a fella.

  “It’s true!” he insisted in response to Viggo’s dubious look. “No matter how much you dress us hominids up, we’re all still hunter-gatherers at heart. A girl likes a young man who looks like he can grab a spear and go find fresh meat for her offspring.”

  He squatted down and tapped Viggo’s chest. “You should consider frequenting venues in Solomon that don’t require shirts. The ladies will be all over you!”

  Viggo laughed. “You’re completely daft!” But he wasn’t so sure. He sat up, wondering what Hallie would think of the scars, if she ever saw them.

  “What’s that?” He was vaguely aware that the monk had been saying something but he’d been distracted by his random thought about Hallie and he had to put the pieces of his brain back together.

  “I said the intake you were talking about might be a kilometer in that direction,” Roj repeated, pointing, though he was staring down at Viggo. “You were thinking about some girl, weren’t you?” He made it sound like an accusation – a mild one but an accusation all the same.

  “You’re the one who brought it up,” he retorted.

  “Well, I forgot I was dealing with a teenage cauldron of hormones.” He shook his head as he offered his hand. He pulled Viggo to his feet but held onto the hand for a moment. “This girl you were thinking of,” he began guardedly, “is she the same one you told us about at the abbey – the same one you told me about on the boat who got so angry with you because she thought you viewed her as a traitor?”

  “Y’know if I said stuff like that about you, you’d sound like an asshole too,” Viggo said, annoyed.

  “Gods,” Roj muttered, half under his breath as he started walking, “this is a great plan we’re risking our lives on!”

  They moved quietly from that point, realizing somewhat belatedly that they were close to the enemy, but there was almost no activity in the area around the arco.

  They’d be searching farther out by now, Viggo realized. They’d have cleared this area first of all, hoping to catch me quickly before I lose myself in the deep jungle.

  Every kilometer they pushed out the search, the area covered would increase by a little over six square kilometers. The workload probably already exceeded the willing manpower, or at least Viggo hoped it did. He was clinging to the belief that the majority of the population didn’t want this revolt but were too cowed to fight it.

  Either way, there would be little incentive, at the moment, to divert resources to search an area that had been gone over at the very start of the crisis.

  Viggo moved to take the lead. Roj had a good idea of where to go but he didn’t have the young Human’s precog advantage. It was a waste of abilities to have Roj blunder into an ambush that his companion saw but couldn’t warn him of without resorting to a shout.

  Halfway there, he signaled a halt. Two maintenance workers were clearing brush away from one of the heat-exchange lines that fed the city’s geo-thermal plant. They had to keep the lines clear because a thin root could quickly grow big enough to crush the vital conduits.

  Their never-ending task was interrupted by a particularly cooperative chimera. The huge beast understood Viggo’s whispered request and let out a blood-curdling shriek.

  Even knowing it was coming, even having been the one to ask her to do it, Viggo still felt every hair on his skin stand on end. His bowels felt as though they’d turn
ed to water.

  Those two workers probably had a more active response from their digestive systems and they were already running.

  “Bit of good luck,” Viggo said quietly, trotting along the trail left by the panicked workers. “They should lead us straight back to a maintenance entry port. No need to worry about disintegrator grids in the recycling plant. Just a nice easy elevator ride up to the right floor…”

  “And you’re sure I can get us in?” Roj asked, panting from the steady exertion.

  “Fairly certain,” Viggo said. “Not much security on these doors. We’re supposed to be the only sentient species on the planet, so who’s going to sneak in? Plus, when one of the more dangerous species scares the crap out of our people, they want to get in quickly, without having to remember some random pass-code.”

  The sheer wall of the arco suddenly loomed up out of the dense jungle ahead of them. Growth here was particularly thick due to all the moisture displaced by the foundations. They came to a halt by the door, pausing to catch their breath.

  “No cameras?” Roj wheezed.

  “Why bother?” Viggo tried to control his breathing though he’d probably be breathing heavily if he were alone. Showoff! he accused himself. “If we don’t expect infiltration, why waste manpower to watch hundreds of video feeds from all the maintenance hatches?”

  He gestured at the scan plate. “They’ll have my DNA set on alert for every system in the city. If I open this door, we’ll be on the run from the instant we step inside.”

  “But I’m not going to turn up a match,” Roj protested. “How’s that not going to set off an alarm?”

  “Because they have a lot of off-worlders helping with the search,” Viggo explained. “A random trader opening a maintenance hatch will barely cause a blip on the security screens, while the subject of a planetary search…” He spread his hands.

  “Nobody’s in there?”

  “We’ll get inside without getting spotted or…,” he paused for a moment, “…setting off alarms.”

  Roj squared his shoulders and faced the scanning panel. “It’s one thing to understand what your people can do,” he said grimly. “It’s quite another to trust your own life to it!” He placed his hand on the panel and a green glow spread around his fingers.