by A. Sparrow
Our fighters were evacuating. To cover their retreat, I stood my ground and fired pulses into the forest as fast as I could summon them. If worse came to worse I could duck into the grotto and hold out there under cover. I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. Whatever happened, happened.
Another mantid, already partially laden with troops, landed on the talus beside me. Hands reached down. A score of eyes beseeched me.
“Save yourselves!” I shouted. “There’s too many of you. I’ll just weigh you down.”
“Screw that! Get your butt up on this bug, you dumbass!” screamed the mantid rider from his saddle.
The urgency of his request convinced me to scramble onto the board. I latched onto a loop of harness. The mantid’s wings thundered open and thrummed like a helicopter as we rose along the cliff face.
***
The sun was mostly set when we alighted on the promenade, only a part of its purplish orb still poked above the cracker-ravaged hills across the basin. Soldiers on the rim were busy rolling boulders off the top to further demolish what was left of the stairways. Seven, battle-scarred mantids had survived and were being attended to, their wings shredded, wounds in their shells weeping yellowish blood.
I went over to the Frelsian officer who had tried to prevent John and I from going down. “That kid I was with. Did he make it up here okay?”
“You betcha. The little bastard was damned lucky we recognized him. Bunch of my guys were ready to shoot him down. Took him for a Seraph.”
Relieved, but feeling depleted, I dragged myself up the central lane which was all abuzz with news of the collapse of our defenses on the lower terrace. Braziers of glowing root flickered all along the avenue. Perceptions were all over the place. Some felt that doom was imminent. Others remained confident that the upper terrace would hold.
The Reapers were moaning in their new pens at the base of the meadow. Their keepers tossed them scraps whose identity I was glad remained obscured in the fading light.
At the War Council’s bunker atop the hill, I found Olivier standing outside the entrance. It soon became clear that he was out there waiting for me.
“Jeez kid. Thank God you’re here. I thought you had faded or something.”
“Nah. I was … just helping out some friends. They meeting yet?
He hauled me aside before I could edge past him. “Before you go in, that replica you made? Anybody asks. For now, we pretend it works. Okay?”
“You want me to lie? What for? If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”
“Listen. Some in the council might not be too keen to send us on our raid if they know we only got that one column. They won’t let us go if we can’t guarantee we’ll make a big enough impact. Zhang’s already making some noise about surrendering the mesa and negotiating some kind of deal with the Lords. Safe passage to the underworld or whatever. I say fuck that. I wouldn’t put it past these assholes to turn us into Cherubs … or worse. So, anybody asks you, we got three working cracker columns. Got it? We don’t want this expedition to be called off.”
“Three? Do we need three?”
“That’s the number Zhang seems to consider the bare minimum to justify a raid. Listen. You and me know for sure we got one that definitely works, okay? For me, that’s more than enough to make this worthwhile. We just got to be strategic about where we place it. And who knows, maybe we can get that dummy you made up and running. Let’s not count it out yet. Worst case scenario we have one cracker column. Best case? Sky’s the limit. We get one copy working, we can make a dozen. Hey, you did it with the wing joints.”
I took a deep breath. Why was the pressure always on me?
The purple sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars that might not be stars were showing themselves.
“Come on,” said Olivier. “Let’s go see the Council.”
Chapter 51: Decision
The council chamber was crowded with onlookers from each faction of the resistance occupying New Axum. Even the Old Ones were well-represented. I had not seen so many active at one time since my attack on Frelsi. I looked around for Mr. O, but couldn’t spot him. Maybe some remained in the long sleep.
As usual, the big shots on the Council sat in the center of the room on stone benches surrounding a circular stone table. Each had a pair of round things the size of poker chips in front of them, one green and one red. I watched Yaqob snatch his up and clack them together in one hand.
I whispered to Olivier as we pushed out way closer to the table. “What are those colored things?”
“Ah, they’re for voting.”
“Where do we get ours?”
Olivier narrowed his eyes at me. “We don’t vote. Only the Council reps vote.”
After all the meetings we had attended, I hadn’t realized we weren’t members of the War Council.
“So what are we doing here? Moral support?”
“They value our opinion. Some of them, anyhow.”
I was startled to see Victoria seated next to Zhang. The flesh weavers had pretty much restored her human shape, though her body still seemed a bit stiff and lumpy in the wrong places, her hair all wiry and askew.
She seemed dazed until I entered her line of vision. Something snapped and her eyes latched onto mine and stared right through to the bottom of my soul. It made my skin prickle. A shiver rippled down my spine. I had to look away.
I spotted John lurking in the back of the room and peeled away from Olivier to go see him. He seemed nervous as I approached, almost as if he were afraid of me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m technically a refugee,” he whispered. “Refugees ain’t supposed to be here.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m a refugee too. Technically. Did you manage get those wings up to Lille?”
“Yeah.”
“So what did she say?”
“She said thank you.”
“So is she gonna use them?”
“She said she would think about it. Bern said he’s take them for a spin so he can show her the ropes.”
“God. I hope he doesn’t crash.”
“James!” called Yaqob, gruffly. “Come here.”
I pushed back through the throng.
“You stay with us,” said Yaqob. “Stay close.”
Olivier was chatting with Urszula. Though he had come from the Deeps, I didn’t usually think of him as a Duster, but he looked right at home among these guys. Conversely, Urszula would always be a Duster in my eyes, even though she no longer shared their chalky, grey complexions.
Through my peripheral vision I could sense Victoria still staring at me. I tried my best to ignore her.
The Old Ones’ leadership had rotated once again. Two Old Ones, a man and a woman this time, sat together across from Yaqob. Each had red and green chips in front of them. I had to wonder how these people kept track of who was in charge at any given moment.
Yaqob was flanked on either side by Hailay, his top lieutenant and Reznak—a grizzled Duster with scars to rival Yaqob’s. Across the table Zhang sat with Victoria and a studious-looking Frelsian who sat quietly with his hands folded on his lap. I noticed that he had a pair of chips in front of him but Victoria did not.
A young Duster clad in scaly armor sidled over to Yaqob and engaged him in an intense discussion. He spoke the guttural tongue of the Deeps.
“Who’s that guy?” I whispered.
“That’s Ubaldo,” said Olivier. “One of the new crew. He came over with us from Deeps.”
“Oh yeah. He looks sort of familiar.”
“Good fighter. He might come on the raid with us if we go. But let’s not put the cart before the horse. The Council first has to agree to send us. Apparently, Zhang’s trying to monkey wrench the whole idea.”
Yaqob cleared his throat and glared across the table at Zhang.
“Why you bring her?”
“Miss Victoria?” said Zhang. “No worries, Yaqob. She will not be voting.”
> “We would prefer she not be privy to our deliberations,” said Reznak.
“Oh no, it’s fine,” said Zhang. “My people have been working with her. They’ve reversed most of the modifications. She’s almost all the way back to the way she was. I do so value her judgment. As much as you all value James.” Zhang smiled and winked at me.
“She should not be here,” said Yaqob. “What if she still communicates with the Lords of Penult?”
“Oh! No worries,” said Zhang. “The Erelim do not speak to her. But since she has witnessed the other side, she may have perspectives, insights worth sharing. She deserves her place at the table.”
Through all this discussion, Victoria made no attempt to defend her presence. She kept staring straight ahead, her expression as blank and inscrutable as the Old Ones.
“We should have tossed her to the Reapers,” said Ubaldo.
Zhang’s mouth dropped. “I beg your pardon?” He turned to Yaqob for support, but the old Duster would not even look at him.
“Honestly, when you think of all she has done for Frelsi … for … our cause. You are talking about one of the original founders of our colony.”
“Perhaps she can stay for now,” said Reznak. “But if any sensitive discussions arise … operational details and such … she should leave.”
“One might say this whole discussion here is pretty sensitive,” said Olivier.
“I assure you she has no means of communicating with the Erelim,” said Zhang. “If she did I would have had no need to send envoys.”
Yaqob sighed long and deep. “You send envoys? To the Lords?””
”Well, yes but just as an overture. To assess their appetite for negotiation. It is useful to have options, is it not?”
“And what do your envoys tell you?”
“Well, only one has returned so far, but the Lords seem willing to listen. What we ultimately offer them is certainly open for discussion, but I propose that we offer to leave New Axum. There are indications that those willing to return to the underworld would be allowed safe passage.”
“That’s nothing new,” said Reznak. “What of those who wish to remain on the surface?”
“We’re still working that out. But I am hoping they will allow some of us to stay.”
“How so?” said Reznak. “When their goal all along has been the total eradication of all surface dwellers?”
“They are taking huge losses,” said Zhang. “Their invasion has entailed an enormous investment of resources on their part and yet here we remain, thanks to the valor of our citizens. And so, they may be open to compromises.”
“This makes no sense,” said Yaqob. “Where would they allow us to stay? Why don’t they just leave us be here … in New Axum?”
“Well,” said Zhang. “Victoria has indicated that some of us … the Freesouls among us at least … might actually be welcome in Penult.”
“What foolishness!” said Reznak. “They would never have us there. They consider it Heaven.”
“Actually, they might. Not you perhaps, but some of us. Victoria tells me they recognize that the natural vetting of the Liminality has not always been perfect. They have suggested to Victoria that some among us … many perhaps … might be offered entry into Penult … as was offered to her at one point.”
The crowd in the chamber burst out in spontaneous outburst of discussion and expression. I sensed excitement, derision, disbelief and relief.
“Silence!” said Yaqob.
“So where would we be welcome?” said Hailay. “Those of us who come from the Deeps, who among us would be allowed into Penult?”
“Well, Penult would be out of the question for some. But of course you would be more than welcome to return to the underworld.”
“To Root?”
“And maybe, perhaps, we arrange for the allowance of some small enclave on the surface. Remember, we are still in the midst of negotiating.”
“Fuck them,” said Hailay. “I say we stay and fight.”
Murmurs of approval erupted amongst the onlookers.
“As I have told you all, I am not entirely against the action you propose against Penult,” said Zhang. “If it could be guaranteed that we could make a significant impact, a successful raid would grant us leverage. If we fail, though, it would be disastrous. We would lose all credibility, all chance of mercy.”
“We won’t fail,” said Olivier. “I guarantee we’ll hit them hard.”
“I wish I could be as confident,” said Zhang. “But as I see it, we have no choice but to work a deal. The resources of the Erelim are inexhaustable. We have done very well to persist here as long as we have against them. They have underestimated everything about us. Our wits. Our strength. Our resolve. But we cannot hold out indefinitely. Almost half of our forces are Hemisouls. How do we sustain a defense with warriors who disappear and reappear at random? Our Freesouls do not suffice to provide our forces the stability they require.”
“All the more reason to hit them,” said Olivier. “Hit them so hard they beg for a truce.”
Zhang snickered. “Beg? The Erelim do not beg.”
“Not yet,” said Olivier. “But only because they’ve never been punched in the face hard enough. These guys need a taste of their own medicine. I say we take them down with their own weapons of mass destruction.”
The crowd again grew excited.
“Oh?” said Zhang. “And how many columns do we have now? Has wonder boy here managed another breakthrough?”
Olivier elbowed me and I nodded.
“Even if we have ten columns, a hundred, I am still not convinced this is the right course to take,” said Zhang. “Miss Victoria has indicated to me that such an approach may not achieve the effect you seek. It may only serve to inflame our … partners.”
“Partners?” said Reznak. “Do you not mean enemies?”
“Partners … in negotiation. If we are going to speak with them in good faith, we need to treat each other like the fellow humans we all are.”
Olivier cleared his throat and raised his voice. “I propose we let you go ahead and talk to them through your envoys. But in the meantime we show them what we can do. Only then we come to terms.”
“We have no time for such follies,” said Zhang. “Their forces are literally at our doorstep. How long can we hold out? What use is a raid if New Axum falls before you even reach Penult’s shores?”
“According to the scouts, we only need two days max if we go by bug,” said Olivier. “One day to reach the shore. Half a day to cross the straits. And then just a couple hours maybe to reconnoiter and deploy the crackers. Who here doesn’t think our defenses can hold on for just another couple days?”
“At the rate things are going,” said Wilson. “I doubt we last a day.”
“How can you say that?” said Olivier. “Have you even seen your people fight? The defenders on the lower rim fended off seven attacks before they were forced to pull back. Your people … Frelsians … Dusters … fighting shoulder to shoulder. And we still have the Old Ones in reserve.”
“Vote!” said Reznak. “I call a vote.”
“Second!” said Yaqob. “But first we remove the traitor.”
Zhang looked hurt. “It does no harm if Victoria stays. She will know the outcome anyway.”
“Remove her!” Yaqob bellowed. “Now!”
Zhang sighed and had his aides come over to help Victoria to her feet and lead her out of the chamber. Her face remained blank. In her current state, she seemed to pose no more threat than a radish, but who knew what calculations were cranking behind those vacant eyes?
“In Victoria’s absence, I appoint my most trusted advisor, Mr. Harold Wilson to vote in her place,” said Zhang. Wilson smiled and nodded.
“Agreed,” said Yaqob. “Reznak and I will vote for our people.”
Zhang turned to the Old Ones. “You two are the current representatives I presume? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your names.”
The Old On
es said nothing. They just sat and blinked at Zhang.
Zhang looked around the table. “Are they … even aware? Of what is happening here?”
“Don’t you worry,” said Yaqob. “They know what’s what.”
“So let us vote. Now,” said Reznak.
“Olivier. James. I hope you will forgive us,” said Zhang. “You’ve only arrived quite recently and we haven’t yet agreed whether the underworld should be represented.”
“Not a problem,” said Olivier. “Not sure we want to represent Luther anyway. But thanks for the chance to state our case.”
“Alright. Those in favor of peace will please place a green chip on the table,” said Zhang. “Red chips will represent assent for going forth with a raid on Penult. Majority rules. Any tie will be decided by the council chair.”
“What? You?” said Yaqob.
“Yes. Me. As you might recall, those were the ground rules when we formed this council.”
Yaqob grimaced at Reznak. I leaned over and whispered to Olivier. “The Old Ones haven’t said a word the whole time. Which way do you think they’re leaning?”
“Kid. I haven’t got a clue. It wouldn’t surprise me if they abstained. You never know where their heads are gonna be.”
Zhang slapped a green chip on the table. Wilson quickly followed with a green chip of his own. Yaqob and Reznak surprised no one by slapping down their red chips.
The Old Ones just sat there as if they were daydreaming. I suspected they were tapped into the Singularity and were reading the tides, fishing for whatever consensus they could gather from the myriad souls that made up their constituency. At no point had either showed their hand by expressing an opinion one way or another in the deliberations. In all of the recent fighting, none had contributed to the defense of the lower terrace.
The room went silent as life gradually flowed back into the Old Ones’ faces. Their expressions softened. Their eyes grew bright and alert. They reached out their hands, chips clasped firmly in their shriveled hands. Each placed a chip down on the table. Both were red.
Chapter 52: Escape from Aberdeen
That night, back in my quarters deep in the warren, I was way too nervous for sleep. In the morning I’d be flying on the back of a giant man-eating insect to a place unfamiliar and dangerous. Not the best combination for a good night’s rest.
