"Shut yer trap, Brick!" Doc Mizumi snapped from behind his welding mask as sparks flew from his precision cutting torch.
Brick, who was undergoing a popular surgical modification - being retrofitted for construction, grimaced and bit down hard on a chunk of leather. Since the Defense of Stardown there had been a disastrous shortage of medical supplies like anaesthesia. For that matter there had been a shortage of everything. A shortage of food. A shortage of water. A shortage of workers for the work of rebuilding... Many, like Brick, had opted to get the necessary implants without the pain meds.
And boy did it hurt having skeletal welds undone.
But squinting through the pain and the sparks, Brick could look out of Mizumi's reclaimed downtown surgery onto the central plaza of the ruins of Geneva Prime and it almost made him smile. There, a team of Biomade electrical engineers working with their Mechified partners were putting the finishing touches on the new memorial. Where the statue of the idealized Cheldrun had previously stood on the nose of an ancient spaceship, there now towered an unparraleled work of art in bronze and coursing energy. A Sygola tree. Hammered and welded from the rusted metal remains (what little the moths had left behind) of the former Goshi Tower, the trunk twisted high into the sky, splaying it's branches over the opening of the defunct blackrock mine and for several city blocks in every direction. Pulsating beams of light danced in mesmerizing patterns along the limbs of the tree and from each twig hung dozens of crystalline leaves - the shards of glass that were ubiquitous around the city. When the wind blew, they played a musical tune, and if you examined them up close you would see each one contained a name, laser-cut into the glass, of a victim of the war.
A sudden jolt of agony brought him back to himself and he shot a dirty look at Doc Mizumi, who was unsympathetic and shouted at him to stay still.
The Doc was doing good business these days. His shop was littered with old Bullet-Spitter parts, discarded in favor of more utilitarian implants. In what Brick thought of as a defining metaphor, he could even see an old gun-arm half disassembled on a nearby table - its parts being scavenged to make a scoop.
As part of the rebuilding effort, Doc Mizumi refused to accept any payment but food and spare parts, and from friends like Brick, the Doc wouldn't even take those things. So Brick tried hard not to take the pain personally, and he focused his thoughts on that memorial tree...
Up in the highest branches of the tree, Karak was attaching glass leaves to their respective twigs. He paused for each one and read the name it contained aloud. He'd kept a special handful of leaves aside, sorted them from the millions of shards to be the very last ones hung on the tree. No one but him would know he had done this, and he wasn't sure anyone but him would have cared. He heated each setting with his finger torch and carefully slotted each leaf into its place.
Omar.
Amos.
Tank.
Terry the Canary.
Mickey the Mixer.
The Surgeon.
Acetylene Sue.
Showing posts with label UMA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label UMA. Show all posts
Prelude to the End
Kindaichi of the Topaz Gull Clan, formerly 7th Dan of Washi San Academy, in disgrace, had never in her life been so exhausted. Resting against a blood and oil-smeared boulder, inside her mecha, she sobbed, but so dehydrated was she that no tears came. She no longer even had the energy to marvel at the depth of her new bond with her mecha. She could feel the stone she was leaning upon as though it were flesh and not metal which touched it. Hours ago that sensation had been magnificent. Now it was just another factor contributing to her exhaustion.
Eyeless hordes swarmed over the rise barreling her over with their numbers. Their tentacles latched onto her limbs trying to restrain her. In her weakened state, they might have succeeded, but some impossible reserve of determination made her bring her Mochi-Yari to bear. Lancing dead Cheldrun in half, she forced herself to rise out of the mass.
To her left and right other mecha labored, wading through tides of the Enemy, as exhausted as she, perhaps even more bereft of hope and yet they were carried by iron discipline, and absolute confidence in the rightness of their cause. Since this morning dozens of her colleagues had fallen. She watched as Ishikawa of the Jade Falcon Clan was liquefied by some horrible beam from Karaku Oni. The molten ring through the torso of his mecha glowed orange as he fell in a heap and was buried under the advancing army. He fired his bow twice more, annihilating several eyeless with each shot, before dying.
Kindaichi would give no less. At this very moment refugees were fleeing for safety. There was no hope of ultimate victory, but each second she bought would be one more second for the refugees to flee. She told herself this because she could see no redemption for herself in this situation. Every ounce of her body screamed in agony with each movement. Soon, she knew, nothing would keep her in motion and then she would be at the mercy of the eyeless... or she would pass out and her mecha would be dismissed... or an Oni would return... or all of the Oni...
An eyeless was flying through the air, toward her helmet. She recognized him, even without his eyes. It was a high-ranking Hei Shi named Arrow, one who had brought Goshi Directives to Washi San Academy upon occasion. Her Mochi-Yari took his head off in one blow.
Not yet. She would not die, yet.
***
At best the infirmary could be called an endless triage clinic. Nothing approaching actual medicine was being performed here any longer, the Surgeon lamented. It was impossible to even attempt it with the thousands of casualties being rushed through the doors every minute. The injured and dying spilled out of the walls into the fields beyond, laying on tarps and in the grass, not neatly, but piled up. Those who could pull themselves out of the pile to find a wall to lean against were probably those with the best chance of survival, Surgeon concentrated on them. The rest just moaned and wailed for relief, but there was none to give.
A young man, too young to have any right to be participating in the fighting, sat by himself in a rare clear spot on the ground. Both arms were gone from the shoulders. He rocked back and forth slightly, dizzy from blood loss. He would be dead in moments. The Surgeon laid him back on the ground, whispering in his ear though he doubted anything he said would penetrate the shock. Suddenly the man was quite lucid and he looked the Surgeon in the eyes as he spoke.
"They're coming. More are coming. It's not over."
The Surgeon thought he meant the Goshi army, but moments after he left the man's side to attend the next victim he noticed corpses twitching, going into paroxysms, their limbs quaking. It was happening everywhere. Terry the Canary, covered head to toe in viscera, came running toward him, shouting incomprehensibly through her sobs. The corpses were rising. Coming to their feet, without eyes in their heads, they began to consume the wounded and the dying.
Terry embraced him and he thought he heard her say "we tried," and "die together." He would have shaken her out of her hysteria in different circumstances, but he found he could do nothing but hold her tightly to himself and nod and weep. She was always a flighty little girl. Too fragile for times like these. Everyone is too fragile for times like these. Suffering like this was never meant to be inflicted on any man.
He barely realized it when a barbed tentacle burst through Terry's rib cage. She was quiet now, but he kept holding her. He whispered that it would be okay, though he knew it could never be.
He didn't see or feel the blow that felled him.
***
Perched on a branch, Sings-Like-Frog, looked out over the frozen surface of Stardown Lake at the stream of refugees running for their lives. In the distance the mountains were on fire. Smoke poured into the air making midday seem gray and dingy like dusk. Only the sun and the fire of the Wandering Star pierced the gloom above. The Star was almost at its peak and it filled the aging Zipsum's heart with forboding.
Below him, interspersed through the trees were the assembled choirs of the Prill. The greatest massed choir in generations. Even in the midst of the devastation it made him glow with pride to have spent his life among the fox-children. In his warbly croaking voice he sang along with a number of the songs which were familiar to him. No mystical power filled him when he did so. He could not so much as turn one drop of water to ice, but he felt as if he were part of something tremendous, something worth doing.
The terror of the refugees who were arriving on the south and eastern shores of the lake was palpable, but there was an undercurrent of gratitude as well. They were rushed under the canopy of the forest and away to safety where whole cities had been sung into existence for them. Most had no way of comprehending what was happening. They had never before seen a Prill or heard of their wonder-working powers. They stumbled, dumb-founded, between paralyzing fear and disbelief.
In time, they would remember this as the beginning of a lasting peace. That was Elder Moon's hope. Saving millions of Cheldrun from destruction would be the seeds of unity for Karians and Cheldrun. These refugee cities will last. They will flourish and they will remind the children of steel of the debt they owe. Sings-Like-Frog was no diplomat, but he believed her when she spoke about it. She was passionate, and convicted. She persuaded every Karian who heard her and they willingly lent their help to the cause. Something good must come from this travesty.
From where Sings-Like-Frog was perched he could count tens of millions of good things running across the ice.
***
Fighting alongside the Zipsum was good. Fighting with the strength of Karia was even better. Edana Griolsa ripped the tentacles off an eyeless before her and kicked it so hard the rib cage collapsed. Before it hit the ground two Zipsum warriors were on it, plunging poisoned knives over and over again into the flesh. Everywhere she turned her blows were followed by Zipsum knives and arrows. She set them up, and the Zipsum cut them down. It was beautiful to watch.
Overhead a tank whistled through the air. When it plowed into the ranks of the enemy it sent a shockwave of flesh rippling for dozens of meters in every direction. She charged up to it and ripped the cannon free from its moorings. She swung it around her in a great arc, clearing a circle of the dead, breaking backs, crushing skulls. One ducked under her swing and plowed into her at the waist trying to knock her off her feet. She neither braced herself nor avoided the attack. The eyeless merely bounced off her like a granite column. The Zipsum knives silenced him before he could get up.
Deep in her breast a proud Gogajin heart was beating. Decades of rage at the suffering of her people combined with the unbelievable hope that the unification of the clans provided made her and every other Gogajin unstoppable. They would neither tire, nor weaken. They would not surrender or retreat. They would hound the foe across every centimeter and kilometer of the continent if need be. They were Gogajin. Their enemies would die in despair, but they would die with a loud and raucous laugh.
***
Aimi could get used to this feeling - the feeling of rushing through the clouds at the helm of an airship. For most of her life she never questioned the Cheldrun prohibition against taking to the sky, but now that she knew how seductive it was she began to understand it better. Not as good as sex, but not completely dissimilar.
The one thing she did not like about flying the Sennin is how conspicuous it was. Used to arriving unannounced with a surprise knife to the back, it was against her nature to be so exposed to every eye as she whistled through the air. There was no longer any meaningful surface-to-air threat from the Goshi army... was it really Goshi anymore? But it kept her on edge every second. An Oni, she knew, could obliterate the Sennin without effort. She dare not relax her guard.
To make matters worse, Kiyoshi and Rei and friends were always insisting on being deposited as close to the damn Oni as possible. Not only did she object to exposing herself and the Sennin to such danger, she in no way approved of Kiyoshi's reckless behavior. She had a feeling that her approval meant about as much to him as the opinion of a rock. Then reflecting on the awe these people seemed to have of Karia - even believing that Karia was alive and influencing them by giving them their remarkable powers, she glumly noted that her opinion might matter less than that of a rock.
He'd better survive long enough for me to punish him, she thought to herself.
***
Zipporah felt something like butterfly wings fluttering in her uterus. Her eyes widened and she clutched her stomach. It was the first sensation of the life within her and she was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. There was a spark of joy, yes, but it seemed so fragile in comparison with the host of fears that pressed in around her. The meaning of this child was yet to be determined. Everything that it could be could so easily be destroyed by the war... by the enemy... if she lost Moses...
Over and over again lately she had forced herself to contemplate his death. It was the last thing she wanted, and yet every second it was a terrible possibility. Now it seemed a near certainty since the hopes of so many were depending on him... depending on his willingness to sacrifice himself.
He would do it, she knew. She couldn't be angry about it either. She would do the same in his place, but knowing this in no way reduced the enormity of her grief. Instead she was angry at the Dusk Sages. Angry at Karia. Angry at the All. It was not right, not fair, not in any sense good or just that so many should have to suffer for others to live. Perhaps, she reflected bitterly, the Question was nothing but a cosmic wager. A callous game of chance with the lives of, well everything, at stake.
Including the life in her uterus. That above all is why she knew she would lose Moses. If he could do something to ensure that life... anything. Could she bear to see this child grow and live, but never rest in Moses' embrace again?
***
This command center was really no such thing. It was a lost cause. His officers were dead or dying or rising as eyeless. His soldiers were fleeing or cowering or nonresponsive to his commands in any case. The few mecha he still had fighting were beyond his reach and there were no more tanks or artillery and even if there were they wouldn't be of much use. Daitokuji Ichirou, patriarch of the Silver Phoenix Clan and general of the Stardown Defense Force was grudgingly forced to admit that they had indeed arrived at the end of the road.
Despite the unbelievable efforts of the Heroes of Karia Vitalus, there was no stopping this swarm of eyeless which had enveloped them. He urged everyone to standfast, knowing it was pointless. Those who would fight would fight. The rest were already rushing after the refugees for the frozen lake. Dimly he hoped that his wife and child were safe among those escaping. There was nothing he could do about it either way.
Having given his final orders, and knowing there was nothing left that any general could do to reverse this tide, he calmly walked from the bunker into the open. Bullets ricocheted off the cement around him. He ignored their dangerous buzz, and turned to face the oncoming rush of the Enemy. Countless millions had been killed or destroyed, yet millions more were coming. Among them the cruel, but vibrant First Minds walked, propelling the demonic army by their twisted power. They had overcome every obstacle the SDF placed in their way. They were almost through the pass, to pour on the unprotected refugees below.
One obstacle still remained for them to overcome, however. Daitokuji Ichirou, 12th Dan of Washi San Academy, the greatest mecha pilot who ever lived. He crossed his arms in front of him and silver light rippled over the field.
***
Heaving tanks through the air is hard work. Even Balder had to admit that the Cheldrun know how to make some heavy shit. The heaviest thing in a Gogajin village is a slab of stone, or a plowshare. Nowhere near as heavy as a tank. Not that he was counting, but he was pretty sure he'd hurled about 43 of them so far, and now they were staying away from him or driving for the hills, or unoccupied and lifeless. That was the thing about tanks, without their crew they're just a hunk of metal.
There were less tanks about now, and less artillery, and less Cheldrun actually. The enemies he was wading through now were eyeless, every one of them. The living children of steel had turned on their own army, shooting the eyeless rather than running alongside them. It was one hell of a clusterfuck, because the Goshi soldiers didn't know which side they were on. They were shit-scared of the eyeless, but the Gogajin weren't their friends either. Balder decided to let them shoot first to see if they were an enemy. If they fired on him (to little effect since Karia was blessing him with her strength), then he gave them the tank treatment. If they screamed and ran he let them go.
Over the sounds of the battle he could hear little, but from time to time he heard a Gogajin clan crying their motto and regardless of which clan it was he would shout it along with them and charge with renewed vigor. They were united now, the Gogajin. And Grim, Grim of all fucking people was their leader! Their High-fucking-King! He was doing a good job making a show of it too. He had charged to the top of a rise, near the middle of the enemy army, and planted his standard, waving it for all to see. He taunted the foe to take the hill from him and for hours none had been able to displace him.
Balder made his way that direction, cutting through swaths of eyeless with a torn sheet of metal. From behind Grim he could see a small, unassuming man approaching. Balder recognized him as a First Mind, and he shouted to warn Grim, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of an artillery shell exploding nearby. Rainbow rays burst from the First Mind's fingertips obliterating several of the Gogajin in Grim's entourage. Grim turned around to face his new opponent and Balder could tell he didn't recognize the danger. Grim threw his arms wide, taunting the First Mind, exposing himself. The First Mind smirked and raised his hands...
Then Balder was on him. He had a hand in the First Mind's mouth, and an arm around his chest. Some dark energy tore at Balder, turning his flesh to spaghetti, unraveling him like a wool jumper. It hurt more than Balder cared to admit. He squeezed the First Mind with all of his might, but for his unassuming appearance he was unbelievable strong. The dark energy continued to shred Balder like so much confetti. He lost his balance and tumbled to the ground with the First Mind still in his grasp.
Balder's legs began dissolving. A metal plate burst free from his shoulder when the screws could no longer find purchase in bones quickly turning to gelatin. Balder screamed for Grim to run. Run for his fucking life, but he couldn't see or tell whether Grim had listened. The First Mind continued struggling in his grasp and Balder forced his hand further into its mouth as his vision became blurry, and the world started to fade.
The blackness claimed Balder, but not before he ripped the First Mind's skull, without the jaw, from its moorings and tossed it into the fray.
***
At the eye of the storm Jin Kalys labored, obsessively, over his newest equations. They made no sense, even to him. Frankly he had given up certainty some time ago. He understood the exigencies of the circumstances. He had no more time to make them right. No more time to be certain, and the math... his dreams weren't coming as they usually did when the equations were close. His subconscious assimilation of nine branch formal logic must not have been as thorough as he'd once imagined, because now... when he most need to be sure.
Some luxuries life does not afford us. This solution would have to do.
The new inertial dampener/difference engine combination artifact was bulky, intricate, and Jin would even venture, aesthetically pleasing. In other times he would have joyfully joined Sousauryoku in an thorough study of the device. It made him feel amateurish to be so hasty with his preparations, but at this very moment the Eyeless were pushing into the streets of Stardown and the Wandering Star was nearly at it's apex. In less than an hour the fate of life would be decided and in some small way he would take part in that decision. Of any debate he had ever waged he most hoped to earn a piercing for this one.
Sousauryoku leaned over his shoulder to read the last page of notation. For once he didn't make a snide comment, but merely gave a weary look that said "I hope you're right."
"There is no other choice," Jin Kalys assured him.
***
From her birth in fiery glory Karia had been a witness. Only in these last hours was she also an actor. It gave her indescribable pleasure, but also debilitating anxiety to at last be involved in the cosmic drama. For a child whose lifespan is measured in billions of revolutions the span of an hour is the blinking of an eye. She watched, unblinking, as that last hour unfolded and she admitted to herself at last, what she had denied for billions of years - that she was not neutral in this conflict, that her heart sang to her of the beauty of life and could not abide the thought of an eternity without the living. She watched, but not as an enraptured audience, she watched as one who stood much to lose. The living were making their choices. The meaning was being played out. The Question would at last be answered.
Life?
Eyeless hordes swarmed over the rise barreling her over with their numbers. Their tentacles latched onto her limbs trying to restrain her. In her weakened state, they might have succeeded, but some impossible reserve of determination made her bring her Mochi-Yari to bear. Lancing dead Cheldrun in half, she forced herself to rise out of the mass.
To her left and right other mecha labored, wading through tides of the Enemy, as exhausted as she, perhaps even more bereft of hope and yet they were carried by iron discipline, and absolute confidence in the rightness of their cause. Since this morning dozens of her colleagues had fallen. She watched as Ishikawa of the Jade Falcon Clan was liquefied by some horrible beam from Karaku Oni. The molten ring through the torso of his mecha glowed orange as he fell in a heap and was buried under the advancing army. He fired his bow twice more, annihilating several eyeless with each shot, before dying.
Kindaichi would give no less. At this very moment refugees were fleeing for safety. There was no hope of ultimate victory, but each second she bought would be one more second for the refugees to flee. She told herself this because she could see no redemption for herself in this situation. Every ounce of her body screamed in agony with each movement. Soon, she knew, nothing would keep her in motion and then she would be at the mercy of the eyeless... or she would pass out and her mecha would be dismissed... or an Oni would return... or all of the Oni...
An eyeless was flying through the air, toward her helmet. She recognized him, even without his eyes. It was a high-ranking Hei Shi named Arrow, one who had brought Goshi Directives to Washi San Academy upon occasion. Her Mochi-Yari took his head off in one blow.
Not yet. She would not die, yet.
***
At best the infirmary could be called an endless triage clinic. Nothing approaching actual medicine was being performed here any longer, the Surgeon lamented. It was impossible to even attempt it with the thousands of casualties being rushed through the doors every minute. The injured and dying spilled out of the walls into the fields beyond, laying on tarps and in the grass, not neatly, but piled up. Those who could pull themselves out of the pile to find a wall to lean against were probably those with the best chance of survival, Surgeon concentrated on them. The rest just moaned and wailed for relief, but there was none to give.
A young man, too young to have any right to be participating in the fighting, sat by himself in a rare clear spot on the ground. Both arms were gone from the shoulders. He rocked back and forth slightly, dizzy from blood loss. He would be dead in moments. The Surgeon laid him back on the ground, whispering in his ear though he doubted anything he said would penetrate the shock. Suddenly the man was quite lucid and he looked the Surgeon in the eyes as he spoke.
"They're coming. More are coming. It's not over."
The Surgeon thought he meant the Goshi army, but moments after he left the man's side to attend the next victim he noticed corpses twitching, going into paroxysms, their limbs quaking. It was happening everywhere. Terry the Canary, covered head to toe in viscera, came running toward him, shouting incomprehensibly through her sobs. The corpses were rising. Coming to their feet, without eyes in their heads, they began to consume the wounded and the dying.
Terry embraced him and he thought he heard her say "we tried," and "die together." He would have shaken her out of her hysteria in different circumstances, but he found he could do nothing but hold her tightly to himself and nod and weep. She was always a flighty little girl. Too fragile for times like these. Everyone is too fragile for times like these. Suffering like this was never meant to be inflicted on any man.
He barely realized it when a barbed tentacle burst through Terry's rib cage. She was quiet now, but he kept holding her. He whispered that it would be okay, though he knew it could never be.
He didn't see or feel the blow that felled him.
***
Perched on a branch, Sings-Like-Frog, looked out over the frozen surface of Stardown Lake at the stream of refugees running for their lives. In the distance the mountains were on fire. Smoke poured into the air making midday seem gray and dingy like dusk. Only the sun and the fire of the Wandering Star pierced the gloom above. The Star was almost at its peak and it filled the aging Zipsum's heart with forboding.
Below him, interspersed through the trees were the assembled choirs of the Prill. The greatest massed choir in generations. Even in the midst of the devastation it made him glow with pride to have spent his life among the fox-children. In his warbly croaking voice he sang along with a number of the songs which were familiar to him. No mystical power filled him when he did so. He could not so much as turn one drop of water to ice, but he felt as if he were part of something tremendous, something worth doing.
The terror of the refugees who were arriving on the south and eastern shores of the lake was palpable, but there was an undercurrent of gratitude as well. They were rushed under the canopy of the forest and away to safety where whole cities had been sung into existence for them. Most had no way of comprehending what was happening. They had never before seen a Prill or heard of their wonder-working powers. They stumbled, dumb-founded, between paralyzing fear and disbelief.
In time, they would remember this as the beginning of a lasting peace. That was Elder Moon's hope. Saving millions of Cheldrun from destruction would be the seeds of unity for Karians and Cheldrun. These refugee cities will last. They will flourish and they will remind the children of steel of the debt they owe. Sings-Like-Frog was no diplomat, but he believed her when she spoke about it. She was passionate, and convicted. She persuaded every Karian who heard her and they willingly lent their help to the cause. Something good must come from this travesty.
From where Sings-Like-Frog was perched he could count tens of millions of good things running across the ice.
***
Fighting alongside the Zipsum was good. Fighting with the strength of Karia was even better. Edana Griolsa ripped the tentacles off an eyeless before her and kicked it so hard the rib cage collapsed. Before it hit the ground two Zipsum warriors were on it, plunging poisoned knives over and over again into the flesh. Everywhere she turned her blows were followed by Zipsum knives and arrows. She set them up, and the Zipsum cut them down. It was beautiful to watch.
Overhead a tank whistled through the air. When it plowed into the ranks of the enemy it sent a shockwave of flesh rippling for dozens of meters in every direction. She charged up to it and ripped the cannon free from its moorings. She swung it around her in a great arc, clearing a circle of the dead, breaking backs, crushing skulls. One ducked under her swing and plowed into her at the waist trying to knock her off her feet. She neither braced herself nor avoided the attack. The eyeless merely bounced off her like a granite column. The Zipsum knives silenced him before he could get up.
Deep in her breast a proud Gogajin heart was beating. Decades of rage at the suffering of her people combined with the unbelievable hope that the unification of the clans provided made her and every other Gogajin unstoppable. They would neither tire, nor weaken. They would not surrender or retreat. They would hound the foe across every centimeter and kilometer of the continent if need be. They were Gogajin. Their enemies would die in despair, but they would die with a loud and raucous laugh.
***
Aimi could get used to this feeling - the feeling of rushing through the clouds at the helm of an airship. For most of her life she never questioned the Cheldrun prohibition against taking to the sky, but now that she knew how seductive it was she began to understand it better. Not as good as sex, but not completely dissimilar.
The one thing she did not like about flying the Sennin is how conspicuous it was. Used to arriving unannounced with a surprise knife to the back, it was against her nature to be so exposed to every eye as she whistled through the air. There was no longer any meaningful surface-to-air threat from the Goshi army... was it really Goshi anymore? But it kept her on edge every second. An Oni, she knew, could obliterate the Sennin without effort. She dare not relax her guard.
To make matters worse, Kiyoshi and Rei and friends were always insisting on being deposited as close to the damn Oni as possible. Not only did she object to exposing herself and the Sennin to such danger, she in no way approved of Kiyoshi's reckless behavior. She had a feeling that her approval meant about as much to him as the opinion of a rock. Then reflecting on the awe these people seemed to have of Karia - even believing that Karia was alive and influencing them by giving them their remarkable powers, she glumly noted that her opinion might matter less than that of a rock.
He'd better survive long enough for me to punish him, she thought to herself.
***
Zipporah felt something like butterfly wings fluttering in her uterus. Her eyes widened and she clutched her stomach. It was the first sensation of the life within her and she was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. There was a spark of joy, yes, but it seemed so fragile in comparison with the host of fears that pressed in around her. The meaning of this child was yet to be determined. Everything that it could be could so easily be destroyed by the war... by the enemy... if she lost Moses...
Over and over again lately she had forced herself to contemplate his death. It was the last thing she wanted, and yet every second it was a terrible possibility. Now it seemed a near certainty since the hopes of so many were depending on him... depending on his willingness to sacrifice himself.
He would do it, she knew. She couldn't be angry about it either. She would do the same in his place, but knowing this in no way reduced the enormity of her grief. Instead she was angry at the Dusk Sages. Angry at Karia. Angry at the All. It was not right, not fair, not in any sense good or just that so many should have to suffer for others to live. Perhaps, she reflected bitterly, the Question was nothing but a cosmic wager. A callous game of chance with the lives of, well everything, at stake.
Including the life in her uterus. That above all is why she knew she would lose Moses. If he could do something to ensure that life... anything. Could she bear to see this child grow and live, but never rest in Moses' embrace again?
***
This command center was really no such thing. It was a lost cause. His officers were dead or dying or rising as eyeless. His soldiers were fleeing or cowering or nonresponsive to his commands in any case. The few mecha he still had fighting were beyond his reach and there were no more tanks or artillery and even if there were they wouldn't be of much use. Daitokuji Ichirou, patriarch of the Silver Phoenix Clan and general of the Stardown Defense Force was grudgingly forced to admit that they had indeed arrived at the end of the road.
Despite the unbelievable efforts of the Heroes of Karia Vitalus, there was no stopping this swarm of eyeless which had enveloped them. He urged everyone to standfast, knowing it was pointless. Those who would fight would fight. The rest were already rushing after the refugees for the frozen lake. Dimly he hoped that his wife and child were safe among those escaping. There was nothing he could do about it either way.
Having given his final orders, and knowing there was nothing left that any general could do to reverse this tide, he calmly walked from the bunker into the open. Bullets ricocheted off the cement around him. He ignored their dangerous buzz, and turned to face the oncoming rush of the Enemy. Countless millions had been killed or destroyed, yet millions more were coming. Among them the cruel, but vibrant First Minds walked, propelling the demonic army by their twisted power. They had overcome every obstacle the SDF placed in their way. They were almost through the pass, to pour on the unprotected refugees below.
One obstacle still remained for them to overcome, however. Daitokuji Ichirou, 12th Dan of Washi San Academy, the greatest mecha pilot who ever lived. He crossed his arms in front of him and silver light rippled over the field.
***
Heaving tanks through the air is hard work. Even Balder had to admit that the Cheldrun know how to make some heavy shit. The heaviest thing in a Gogajin village is a slab of stone, or a plowshare. Nowhere near as heavy as a tank. Not that he was counting, but he was pretty sure he'd hurled about 43 of them so far, and now they were staying away from him or driving for the hills, or unoccupied and lifeless. That was the thing about tanks, without their crew they're just a hunk of metal.
There were less tanks about now, and less artillery, and less Cheldrun actually. The enemies he was wading through now were eyeless, every one of them. The living children of steel had turned on their own army, shooting the eyeless rather than running alongside them. It was one hell of a clusterfuck, because the Goshi soldiers didn't know which side they were on. They were shit-scared of the eyeless, but the Gogajin weren't their friends either. Balder decided to let them shoot first to see if they were an enemy. If they fired on him (to little effect since Karia was blessing him with her strength), then he gave them the tank treatment. If they screamed and ran he let them go.
Over the sounds of the battle he could hear little, but from time to time he heard a Gogajin clan crying their motto and regardless of which clan it was he would shout it along with them and charge with renewed vigor. They were united now, the Gogajin. And Grim, Grim of all fucking people was their leader! Their High-fucking-King! He was doing a good job making a show of it too. He had charged to the top of a rise, near the middle of the enemy army, and planted his standard, waving it for all to see. He taunted the foe to take the hill from him and for hours none had been able to displace him.
Balder made his way that direction, cutting through swaths of eyeless with a torn sheet of metal. From behind Grim he could see a small, unassuming man approaching. Balder recognized him as a First Mind, and he shouted to warn Grim, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of an artillery shell exploding nearby. Rainbow rays burst from the First Mind's fingertips obliterating several of the Gogajin in Grim's entourage. Grim turned around to face his new opponent and Balder could tell he didn't recognize the danger. Grim threw his arms wide, taunting the First Mind, exposing himself. The First Mind smirked and raised his hands...
Then Balder was on him. He had a hand in the First Mind's mouth, and an arm around his chest. Some dark energy tore at Balder, turning his flesh to spaghetti, unraveling him like a wool jumper. It hurt more than Balder cared to admit. He squeezed the First Mind with all of his might, but for his unassuming appearance he was unbelievable strong. The dark energy continued to shred Balder like so much confetti. He lost his balance and tumbled to the ground with the First Mind still in his grasp.
Balder's legs began dissolving. A metal plate burst free from his shoulder when the screws could no longer find purchase in bones quickly turning to gelatin. Balder screamed for Grim to run. Run for his fucking life, but he couldn't see or tell whether Grim had listened. The First Mind continued struggling in his grasp and Balder forced his hand further into its mouth as his vision became blurry, and the world started to fade.
The blackness claimed Balder, but not before he ripped the First Mind's skull, without the jaw, from its moorings and tossed it into the fray.
***
At the eye of the storm Jin Kalys labored, obsessively, over his newest equations. They made no sense, even to him. Frankly he had given up certainty some time ago. He understood the exigencies of the circumstances. He had no more time to make them right. No more time to be certain, and the math... his dreams weren't coming as they usually did when the equations were close. His subconscious assimilation of nine branch formal logic must not have been as thorough as he'd once imagined, because now... when he most need to be sure.
Some luxuries life does not afford us. This solution would have to do.
The new inertial dampener/difference engine combination artifact was bulky, intricate, and Jin would even venture, aesthetically pleasing. In other times he would have joyfully joined Sousauryoku in an thorough study of the device. It made him feel amateurish to be so hasty with his preparations, but at this very moment the Eyeless were pushing into the streets of Stardown and the Wandering Star was nearly at it's apex. In less than an hour the fate of life would be decided and in some small way he would take part in that decision. Of any debate he had ever waged he most hoped to earn a piercing for this one.
Sousauryoku leaned over his shoulder to read the last page of notation. For once he didn't make a snide comment, but merely gave a weary look that said "I hope you're right."
"There is no other choice," Jin Kalys assured him.
***
From her birth in fiery glory Karia had been a witness. Only in these last hours was she also an actor. It gave her indescribable pleasure, but also debilitating anxiety to at last be involved in the cosmic drama. For a child whose lifespan is measured in billions of revolutions the span of an hour is the blinking of an eye. She watched, unblinking, as that last hour unfolded and she admitted to herself at last, what she had denied for billions of years - that she was not neutral in this conflict, that her heart sang to her of the beauty of life and could not abide the thought of an eternity without the living. She watched, but not as an enraptured audience, she watched as one who stood much to lose. The living were making their choices. The meaning was being played out. The Question would at last be answered.
Life?
The Signal
At last, Moses is able to press his way through the throngs of gawkers and cheering Mechified, shouted greetings and growled curses, thrown garlands and bottles. He is clutching a crumpled sheet of paper to his chest. Zipporah is nimbly slipping along behind him in the space that he makes like a gleaming metallic ship in a sea of pressing bodies and hammering sound. Her ears are pressed to her head and she has a fistfull of his coveralls so they aren't separated. He is always aware of her, and will reach back now and then to pull her forward or gently but firmly push people to either side.
He enters the telegraph station, creaking and tottering on its foundation, but only mostly rusted away, and still servicing underground cables. The technicians, all Mechified, are standing when he comes in, eyes wide, shifting from foot to foot nervously, looking at each other. The floor is knee-deep in coiled paper with endless messages printed on meter after meter of it.
Moses nods to the Mechified. "I have a message to send."
They start, and then all settle back into their seats and prepare to transmit. I don't know if I can send this everywhere, so I'll have to do this the normal way.
He clears his throat and reads from the crumpled piece of paper.
"Begin."
"My name is Moses, and I am the servant of the power of Karia that has brought Goshi low."
"Stop."
"I have done this to bring freedom to my people, and I have learned in the past months that all Cheldrun and all Karians are my people."
"Stop."
"Now I am leading all who will follow me to Stardown."
"Stop."
"We are going to Stardown to face the Enemy and to defeat them once and for all."
"Stop."
"Goshi is broken but not yet fully defeated, and they will make a last attempt at facing us in open war."
"Stop."
"We will defeat them once and for all, as we have defeated Katashi Blade, because they have been serving our Enemy all this time."
"Stop."
"Any soldiers or other employees serving Goshi should know this -"
"Stop."
"-that you have this chance, this final chance, to leave Goshi and start a new life for yourself."
"Stop."
"Because when you bring war to us, we are going to crush you utterly, so that nothing of Goshi will remain on the face of Karia."
"Stop."
"All who wish to join us in Stardown to fight for the fate of all Karia should gather there with all of the resources you can bring."
"Stop."
"All who don't want to join us should rebuild your lives, and choose new leaders for yourselves now that Goshi is broken and its power is coming to an end forever."
"Stop."
"If we win, then use your freedom to build better lives for yourselves and to become better people, Cheldrun and Karian together."
"Stop."
"If we lose, then this is goodbye."
"Stop."
"Never stop fighting for what's right."
"Full Stop."
He enters the telegraph station, creaking and tottering on its foundation, but only mostly rusted away, and still servicing underground cables. The technicians, all Mechified, are standing when he comes in, eyes wide, shifting from foot to foot nervously, looking at each other. The floor is knee-deep in coiled paper with endless messages printed on meter after meter of it.
Moses nods to the Mechified. "I have a message to send."
They start, and then all settle back into their seats and prepare to transmit. I don't know if I can send this everywhere, so I'll have to do this the normal way.
He clears his throat and reads from the crumpled piece of paper.
"Begin."
"My name is Moses, and I am the servant of the power of Karia that has brought Goshi low."
"Stop."
"I have done this to bring freedom to my people, and I have learned in the past months that all Cheldrun and all Karians are my people."
"Stop."
"Now I am leading all who will follow me to Stardown."
"Stop."
"We are going to Stardown to face the Enemy and to defeat them once and for all."
"Stop."
"Goshi is broken but not yet fully defeated, and they will make a last attempt at facing us in open war."
"Stop."
"We will defeat them once and for all, as we have defeated Katashi Blade, because they have been serving our Enemy all this time."
"Stop."
"Any soldiers or other employees serving Goshi should know this -"
"Stop."
"-that you have this chance, this final chance, to leave Goshi and start a new life for yourself."
"Stop."
"Because when you bring war to us, we are going to crush you utterly, so that nothing of Goshi will remain on the face of Karia."
"Stop."
"All who wish to join us in Stardown to fight for the fate of all Karia should gather there with all of the resources you can bring."
"Stop."
"All who don't want to join us should rebuild your lives, and choose new leaders for yourselves now that Goshi is broken and its power is coming to an end forever."
"Stop."
"If we win, then use your freedom to build better lives for yourselves and to become better people, Cheldrun and Karian together."
"Stop."
"If we lose, then this is goodbye."
"Stop."
"Never stop fighting for what's right."
"Full Stop."
Prelude to the End of Season Three
A league under the waves, where no sunlight reaches, the Sea-Dragon people known as Sasarrans flitted from luminescent coral apartments to begin their patrols of the surface. The sacred obligation must never be permitted to lapse, even for a moment, into lackadaisical disinterest. Eternal vigilance was required of their whole people to contain the demons who create in order to consume.
Ceralon, a proud matriarch of her people, was not headed to the surface with the others. She swam with strength and purpose deeper into the coral city, headed for the sacred sanctuary, where all the matriarchs would confer. The departing patrol was a delicate rainbow of fronds, fluttering up toward the sunlight. She watched them as they went, proud of their dedication.
Ahead of her the sanctuary entrance yawned - a cavernous opening in the coral leading through twisting passages into the vast heart of the city. It was too sacred a local for common warriors, outsiders or men to enter, but even matriarchs like Ceralon felt a quickening of the heart when approaching it.
The others would want to have her wisdom concerning the strangers who passed from the East a few days ago. She had spent her whole rest-cycle contemplating the matter. It remained perplexing to her that anyone would desire to go to the Emerald Isle who was not a servant of the demons. However, she would shock the matriarchs today by declaring what she believed to be truth - the strangers were genuine. Perhaps events beyond our horizons are underway, she thought. The idea gave her shivers.
Whatever the reality, she would ask the gathered matriarchs to pray for the success of those strangers. Pray for the end of all demons everywhere. Yes, that would be a good prayer.
***
They first named it Shadowfang in the logging camps south of Geneva Prime. In a day and age when teleportation is real, communication is fast. So it was no surprise to find that news of this mysterious killer made it to all the rural outposts and logging camps between Epsis Four and Ithica. It became popular among the easily frightened Mechified laborers to blame any unexplained death on the Shadowfang. Most foremen, just shook their heads and tried to dispel unhelpful superstitions. There were all sorts of things in the jungle that could kill a man.
What was more disturbing than all the reports was the fact that Shadowfang was real and on the move. It was notoriously hard to get any reliable sightings of the beast, but members of a secretive information brokerage out of Marina had been paid quite well to keep track of it. Even they didn't learn much, but they tracked a pattern of violent killings, some by Jevumm, some with Cheldrun weapons, that appeared to be moving along the edges of wilderness toward the north. At best guesstimate it was now somewhere in the vicinity of the Wreck of the Bosporus and still moving.
Goshi had no interest, when informed of the matter. Just another sighting of the Enemy, they alleged, and used it as an argument for beefing up security. But someone on the Biomade Oversight Council was quite convinced otherwise. It appears to be some kind of Karian-Cheldrun hybrid, he wrote in the memo. We should bring it in if we can and study it for interesting genetic properties...
***
"Good Bye, my beloved Moon."
Those had been his words, carried on the wind over countless kilometers. She sang them and re-sang them in her heart and every time it was a song of such sorrow that no one could hear it without weeping. The Grand Chantry, her choir, the prophecies, Karia itself, could dissolve and become nothing for all she cared. Her love, her Mokuzai, was gone and nothing else mattered.
From the balcony of the highest tower in the Grand Chantry she nightly composed songs of rage at the heavens. She waited for the Wandering Star to rise - late as it had been doing every night recently, an omen of doom. She waited and when it came she unleashed everything within her, calling all the power of the winds, all the vastness of the sky to her obedience, begging them to tear the Wandering Star down.
Once Twilight was sent by the Elders to fetch her down since her shrieking was causing such a disturbance that people below were being sent into a panic. Twilight was nearly blown over the edge by her rage and no one had made the mistake of disturbing her mourning from that moment.
The Wandering Star winked at her malevolently from its spot just above the horizon.
"You took my mate from me," she screamed back at it. "But I swear by the Dusk Sages, by Karia, by the primal foundations of music itself that I shall outlive you! I will live to see the day that you never rise again."
Her screams echoed over the forest and the effect was satisfying, but no amount of screaming would ever close the wound in her soul.
***
Ryuunosuke did not believe he could ever hate anyone more than he hated Lord Daitokuji Ichirou. And Kiyoshi. He hated Kiyoshi and Ichirou. And the stupid First Minds. Fucking First Minds and their fucking artifacts. He hated First Mind artifacts and he especially hated Kiyoshi and Ichirou when they used their First Mind artifacts. Fuck fuck fucking hate. Like really loathe...
There was no way to describe his fight with Ichirou without using the words utter and humiliation - two words that Ryuunosuke also hated (unless they were being applied to someone else). It would have been bad enough to die in that duel, but Ichirou had allowed nothing of the sort. He systematically dismantled Ryuunosuke, broke his Katana in seven pieces, and refused to accept his surrender until he had pissed himself in front of the whole Silver Phoenix clan while begging for mercy.
Ichirou still insisted that he would face justice for all the members of the Silver Phoenix clan he had killed, especially Kiyoshi, but he refused to say precisely when that would take place. Until then Ryuunosuke had been dragged along, shackled, behind the caravan as they headed overland toward the city of Stardown. Ryuunosuke only stopped brooding on his inchoate rage when he first glimpsed the enormous purple energy dome - and then only for a moment.
They reached the city a few nights ago, entering to fanfare and celebrations. Stardown had become the hub of the resistance to Goshi almost overnight with the creation of the dome. A feat supposedly accomplished by a giant talking lizard - which just proved that the world had gone mad. Lord Daitokuji Ichirou immediately became a general in the resistance and began lending his tactical advice. From time to time he would appear in his enormous silvery Mecha with purple veins of stone all over its surface to impress the citizens and drum up support for the resistance.
Ryuunosuke thought the whole thing was absurd. He hoped Goshi would sweep in here and destroy all of these clowns with a sweep of their hand. He hated purple domes, and giant lizards, and the resistance. He hated it all. Most especially himself.
***
The silhouette of the Geneva Prime skyline receded into the distance at a very slow rate. Every last man, woman and child in this troop was a kill on sight target. So Matthew knew they couldn't draw attention to themselves. Slow and steady, that was the way to go unnoticed. So that was the way they traveled.
Looking back over the ragtag group of 65 or so individuals that were all that remained of the Cheldrun Freedom Coalition, he couldn't help but be very proud. What they were doing was terribly risky, it is true, but since all of their hideouts in the city were ferreted out there really was no place for them to go back to. Hence, they'd agreed to Matthew's proposal that they strike out overland and try to get to Stardown to join the resistance.
Matthew had plenty of worries. He worried that he was an incompetent leader. He worried that he would get all of these men and women killed pointlessly, after he had persuaded many of them to take actions which made an accommodated life impossible. He worried, more simply, that he would get lost on the way to Stardown - geography was never his strong suit. Or that they would arrive too late and Goshi would already have crushed the uprising there.
But he couldn't let his worries distract him now. There were miles to cross. There were mouths to feed. There were Hei-shi to kill. This last part was by far the easiest.
***
Deep in the slums of Geneva Prime battles continued to rage, but the war had long ago been lost. For Cog, a broken shell of a young Mechified with his first adult-sized implant, the war would never end, which meant that he would just go on losing and losing. His whole life was confined to that moment in the alley next to his collapsed tenement, weeping over the body of his mother. He could never escape it, and so he spent his time trying to take vengeance on the Goshi soldiers who brought the tenement crashing down.
His vengeance was the frustrated pointless vengeance of the impotent. He committed vandalism, or threw garbage at soldiers when their backs were turned. Once in a while he was daring enough to shout curses before running away. On most days this would just be ignored, but apparently he'd picked the wrong soldiers to fling garbage at today. They chased him down into an alley and pinned him against a brick wall. One pulled out a military knife and the other joked about practicing cybernetic surgery.
Cog closed his eyes before the pain started. He gritted his teeth, trying not to scream, but it was futile when the knife dug into his arm. They laughed as his adolescent voice cracked when he shouted.
Then, suddenly, they were dead. Cog opened his eyes to see both men with wide eyes. A 3 meter length of rebar had gone through the ear of one and out the neck of the other. They collapsed and the pain in Cog's arm decreased.
He had heard of a hero lurking in the streets of the city. The Bronze God they called him. Cog looked to the end of the alley and saw a figure retreating around the corner. Could it be him?
***
Rumors suggested that one could see the whole of Karia from the top floor of the Goshi Tower. It wasn't true, but Katashi Blade had other ways of keeping tabs on things happening far away. It didn't stop him from peering out the panoramic windows up here in appreciation. Who can say what he saw, but whatever it was he could not have missed the landscape indelibly marked with his hand.
Behind him, Sever and Stitch shifted their weight back and forth uneasily. The Executor was prone to these long moments of silence and it was extremely unsettling. Eventually, Sever couldn't keep it in any longer.
"We really don't know where she is, Executor."
Silence.
"We've checked everywhere. We would have sworn she'd come to us at some point. Maybe she really did die when the Rodan sank."
Silence.
"Anyway, if she's incompetent or a traitor we'll deal with her in our customary way. Just because she's our sister don't me we love her..."
"much." Stitch added helpfully.
Blade made no motion to respond while the brothers kept on prattling in their own defense. Eventually, he cut them off.
"Aimi is most definitely alive, and if you two knew about it you couldn't hide it from me anyway. If you find her, bring her to me. Otherwise, leave me alone."
They both headed for the exit as fast as they could. On the way out Sever asked over his shoulder, "So we're good then?"
The Executor's look was icy, "You two aren't creative enough to betray me. Get out."
***
Far higher than Goshi Tower, from a porthole under the wing of Sennin, Julian looked at Karia Vitalus. From this distance it was a huge blue disk, filling most of his vision. Still, it meant that everything he had ever known was incomprehensibly tiny, overall. A disturbing realization.
He tried to express this to Tara, but he wasn't a very eloquent person, and it was difficult to stay on topic when she was quivering and balling like she was right now. Something about nearly everyone dying and space being a horrible dark place and there being too much blood for her to ever erase from her mind.
When she gets in these moods, she's not very uplifting, he thought.
It was true that the experience of the Rusty Nail Rogues in space had been less than glamorous, and more than a little harrowing. Even now, they drifted without power a short distance from the Wandering Star, hundreds of kilometers above the ground, when at any moment a terrifying Oni or thousands of mutated eyeless might pore out of the gaping crater Moses had created. Presumably Kiyoshi would turn the engines on soon and they would go home. At least Julian hoped so.
The planet is such a small place. I never want to see it like this again.
***
As for Karia herself? The words of the Dusk Sage kept rippling through her thoughts... there is no Peace.
Her fragile little self was wounded to the core by such a pronouncement. She felt the emptiness where her chosen soul should have been. She felt the edges unraveling and knew the horrible truth of the saying. There is no Peace.
She wanted to know the answer. Every blade of grass and pebble of sand quivered in anticipation of the climax of the cosmic drama, but once answered there would be no more mystery. Would the absence of mystery feel like the death of Mokuzai? Like a hole collapsing at the edges and dragging meaning and hope with it into the abyss?
There is no Peace. Karia did not like this answer at all. Not one little bit.
Ceralon, a proud matriarch of her people, was not headed to the surface with the others. She swam with strength and purpose deeper into the coral city, headed for the sacred sanctuary, where all the matriarchs would confer. The departing patrol was a delicate rainbow of fronds, fluttering up toward the sunlight. She watched them as they went, proud of their dedication.
Ahead of her the sanctuary entrance yawned - a cavernous opening in the coral leading through twisting passages into the vast heart of the city. It was too sacred a local for common warriors, outsiders or men to enter, but even matriarchs like Ceralon felt a quickening of the heart when approaching it.
The others would want to have her wisdom concerning the strangers who passed from the East a few days ago. She had spent her whole rest-cycle contemplating the matter. It remained perplexing to her that anyone would desire to go to the Emerald Isle who was not a servant of the demons. However, she would shock the matriarchs today by declaring what she believed to be truth - the strangers were genuine. Perhaps events beyond our horizons are underway, she thought. The idea gave her shivers.
Whatever the reality, she would ask the gathered matriarchs to pray for the success of those strangers. Pray for the end of all demons everywhere. Yes, that would be a good prayer.
***
They first named it Shadowfang in the logging camps south of Geneva Prime. In a day and age when teleportation is real, communication is fast. So it was no surprise to find that news of this mysterious killer made it to all the rural outposts and logging camps between Epsis Four and Ithica. It became popular among the easily frightened Mechified laborers to blame any unexplained death on the Shadowfang. Most foremen, just shook their heads and tried to dispel unhelpful superstitions. There were all sorts of things in the jungle that could kill a man.
What was more disturbing than all the reports was the fact that Shadowfang was real and on the move. It was notoriously hard to get any reliable sightings of the beast, but members of a secretive information brokerage out of Marina had been paid quite well to keep track of it. Even they didn't learn much, but they tracked a pattern of violent killings, some by Jevumm, some with Cheldrun weapons, that appeared to be moving along the edges of wilderness toward the north. At best guesstimate it was now somewhere in the vicinity of the Wreck of the Bosporus and still moving.
Goshi had no interest, when informed of the matter. Just another sighting of the Enemy, they alleged, and used it as an argument for beefing up security. But someone on the Biomade Oversight Council was quite convinced otherwise. It appears to be some kind of Karian-Cheldrun hybrid, he wrote in the memo. We should bring it in if we can and study it for interesting genetic properties...
***
"Good Bye, my beloved Moon."
Those had been his words, carried on the wind over countless kilometers. She sang them and re-sang them in her heart and every time it was a song of such sorrow that no one could hear it without weeping. The Grand Chantry, her choir, the prophecies, Karia itself, could dissolve and become nothing for all she cared. Her love, her Mokuzai, was gone and nothing else mattered.
From the balcony of the highest tower in the Grand Chantry she nightly composed songs of rage at the heavens. She waited for the Wandering Star to rise - late as it had been doing every night recently, an omen of doom. She waited and when it came she unleashed everything within her, calling all the power of the winds, all the vastness of the sky to her obedience, begging them to tear the Wandering Star down.
Once Twilight was sent by the Elders to fetch her down since her shrieking was causing such a disturbance that people below were being sent into a panic. Twilight was nearly blown over the edge by her rage and no one had made the mistake of disturbing her mourning from that moment.
The Wandering Star winked at her malevolently from its spot just above the horizon.
"You took my mate from me," she screamed back at it. "But I swear by the Dusk Sages, by Karia, by the primal foundations of music itself that I shall outlive you! I will live to see the day that you never rise again."
Her screams echoed over the forest and the effect was satisfying, but no amount of screaming would ever close the wound in her soul.
***
Ryuunosuke did not believe he could ever hate anyone more than he hated Lord Daitokuji Ichirou. And Kiyoshi. He hated Kiyoshi and Ichirou. And the stupid First Minds. Fucking First Minds and their fucking artifacts. He hated First Mind artifacts and he especially hated Kiyoshi and Ichirou when they used their First Mind artifacts. Fuck fuck fucking hate. Like really loathe...
There was no way to describe his fight with Ichirou without using the words utter and humiliation - two words that Ryuunosuke also hated (unless they were being applied to someone else). It would have been bad enough to die in that duel, but Ichirou had allowed nothing of the sort. He systematically dismantled Ryuunosuke, broke his Katana in seven pieces, and refused to accept his surrender until he had pissed himself in front of the whole Silver Phoenix clan while begging for mercy.
Ichirou still insisted that he would face justice for all the members of the Silver Phoenix clan he had killed, especially Kiyoshi, but he refused to say precisely when that would take place. Until then Ryuunosuke had been dragged along, shackled, behind the caravan as they headed overland toward the city of Stardown. Ryuunosuke only stopped brooding on his inchoate rage when he first glimpsed the enormous purple energy dome - and then only for a moment.
They reached the city a few nights ago, entering to fanfare and celebrations. Stardown had become the hub of the resistance to Goshi almost overnight with the creation of the dome. A feat supposedly accomplished by a giant talking lizard - which just proved that the world had gone mad. Lord Daitokuji Ichirou immediately became a general in the resistance and began lending his tactical advice. From time to time he would appear in his enormous silvery Mecha with purple veins of stone all over its surface to impress the citizens and drum up support for the resistance.
Ryuunosuke thought the whole thing was absurd. He hoped Goshi would sweep in here and destroy all of these clowns with a sweep of their hand. He hated purple domes, and giant lizards, and the resistance. He hated it all. Most especially himself.
***
The silhouette of the Geneva Prime skyline receded into the distance at a very slow rate. Every last man, woman and child in this troop was a kill on sight target. So Matthew knew they couldn't draw attention to themselves. Slow and steady, that was the way to go unnoticed. So that was the way they traveled.
Looking back over the ragtag group of 65 or so individuals that were all that remained of the Cheldrun Freedom Coalition, he couldn't help but be very proud. What they were doing was terribly risky, it is true, but since all of their hideouts in the city were ferreted out there really was no place for them to go back to. Hence, they'd agreed to Matthew's proposal that they strike out overland and try to get to Stardown to join the resistance.
Matthew had plenty of worries. He worried that he was an incompetent leader. He worried that he would get all of these men and women killed pointlessly, after he had persuaded many of them to take actions which made an accommodated life impossible. He worried, more simply, that he would get lost on the way to Stardown - geography was never his strong suit. Or that they would arrive too late and Goshi would already have crushed the uprising there.
But he couldn't let his worries distract him now. There were miles to cross. There were mouths to feed. There were Hei-shi to kill. This last part was by far the easiest.
***
Deep in the slums of Geneva Prime battles continued to rage, but the war had long ago been lost. For Cog, a broken shell of a young Mechified with his first adult-sized implant, the war would never end, which meant that he would just go on losing and losing. His whole life was confined to that moment in the alley next to his collapsed tenement, weeping over the body of his mother. He could never escape it, and so he spent his time trying to take vengeance on the Goshi soldiers who brought the tenement crashing down.
His vengeance was the frustrated pointless vengeance of the impotent. He committed vandalism, or threw garbage at soldiers when their backs were turned. Once in a while he was daring enough to shout curses before running away. On most days this would just be ignored, but apparently he'd picked the wrong soldiers to fling garbage at today. They chased him down into an alley and pinned him against a brick wall. One pulled out a military knife and the other joked about practicing cybernetic surgery.
Cog closed his eyes before the pain started. He gritted his teeth, trying not to scream, but it was futile when the knife dug into his arm. They laughed as his adolescent voice cracked when he shouted.
Then, suddenly, they were dead. Cog opened his eyes to see both men with wide eyes. A 3 meter length of rebar had gone through the ear of one and out the neck of the other. They collapsed and the pain in Cog's arm decreased.
He had heard of a hero lurking in the streets of the city. The Bronze God they called him. Cog looked to the end of the alley and saw a figure retreating around the corner. Could it be him?
***
Rumors suggested that one could see the whole of Karia from the top floor of the Goshi Tower. It wasn't true, but Katashi Blade had other ways of keeping tabs on things happening far away. It didn't stop him from peering out the panoramic windows up here in appreciation. Who can say what he saw, but whatever it was he could not have missed the landscape indelibly marked with his hand.
Behind him, Sever and Stitch shifted their weight back and forth uneasily. The Executor was prone to these long moments of silence and it was extremely unsettling. Eventually, Sever couldn't keep it in any longer.
"We really don't know where she is, Executor."
Silence.
"We've checked everywhere. We would have sworn she'd come to us at some point. Maybe she really did die when the Rodan sank."
Silence.
"Anyway, if she's incompetent or a traitor we'll deal with her in our customary way. Just because she's our sister don't me we love her..."
"much." Stitch added helpfully.
Blade made no motion to respond while the brothers kept on prattling in their own defense. Eventually, he cut them off.
"Aimi is most definitely alive, and if you two knew about it you couldn't hide it from me anyway. If you find her, bring her to me. Otherwise, leave me alone."
They both headed for the exit as fast as they could. On the way out Sever asked over his shoulder, "So we're good then?"
The Executor's look was icy, "You two aren't creative enough to betray me. Get out."
***
Far higher than Goshi Tower, from a porthole under the wing of Sennin, Julian looked at Karia Vitalus. From this distance it was a huge blue disk, filling most of his vision. Still, it meant that everything he had ever known was incomprehensibly tiny, overall. A disturbing realization.
He tried to express this to Tara, but he wasn't a very eloquent person, and it was difficult to stay on topic when she was quivering and balling like she was right now. Something about nearly everyone dying and space being a horrible dark place and there being too much blood for her to ever erase from her mind.
When she gets in these moods, she's not very uplifting, he thought.
It was true that the experience of the Rusty Nail Rogues in space had been less than glamorous, and more than a little harrowing. Even now, they drifted without power a short distance from the Wandering Star, hundreds of kilometers above the ground, when at any moment a terrifying Oni or thousands of mutated eyeless might pore out of the gaping crater Moses had created. Presumably Kiyoshi would turn the engines on soon and they would go home. At least Julian hoped so.
The planet is such a small place. I never want to see it like this again.
***
As for Karia herself? The words of the Dusk Sage kept rippling through her thoughts... there is no Peace.
Her fragile little self was wounded to the core by such a pronouncement. She felt the emptiness where her chosen soul should have been. She felt the edges unraveling and knew the horrible truth of the saying. There is no Peace.
She wanted to know the answer. Every blade of grass and pebble of sand quivered in anticipation of the climax of the cosmic drama, but once answered there would be no more mystery. Would the absence of mystery feel like the death of Mokuzai? Like a hole collapsing at the edges and dragging meaning and hope with it into the abyss?
There is no Peace. Karia did not like this answer at all. Not one little bit.
Are You Now or Have You Ever Been?
It was hot under the spotlight, and its glare washed out the rest of the room into a haze of shadows and half-glimpsed shapes. The only other face that the Surgeon could see from where he sat on the witness stand was the face of the Goshi investigator. He'd been here for hours, being questioned, listening to the sound of pens scratching across paper as the observers took notes on... he wasn't sure what exactly. Him, he guessed. A bunch of higher ups from the Biomade Oversight Council, come to watch. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and they made a note of that, too.
Damn Sue for dragging him into this. She had promised him a new world, a free world, where the Mechified didn't have to live lives of servitude to the Biomade. Surgeon was better educated that most Mechified, and for all his customization to repair and service other Mechified, he fancied himself a student of history more than anything else. He should have known it wouldn't have worked, he realized that much now. After all, hadn't the Biomade promised the same thing that Sue had when they'd led their own rebellion against the oppressive Allskin regime? And yet the moment the Biomade were put in power, well, far from a free society, they'd just replaced the Allskins at the top of the ladder. The oppressed became the oppressor. So it went. So it would have gone if Sue had won.
Ah, but Sue had seemed so convincing. There had been such passion in her eyes and in her voice. It had all gone so wrong.
Things were bad, now. Ever since Sue had been killed, and her head put up for all to see in the same square where Moses had tricked Goshi into believing he was surrendering, only to make a fool of them in front of the whole city. The head was still there, or so he'd heard. He hadn't had the chance to see it himself, and was beginning to doubt that he ever would.
The Goshi Investigator was waiting for his answer, but Surgeon abruptly realized he hadn't heard the question. He looked up. "What?" he asked.
The Investigator's face reddened slightly, and Surgeon was pretty sure it was anger and not shame that coloured the man's cheeks. ... He wasn't sure Biomade could feel shame.
"I ask again, Surgeon, are you now or have you ever been a UMA sympathizer?"
"No," Surgeon replied. His voice was thick and heavy, but the lie was getting easier with each repetition.
"Then you deny having associated with known terrorists?"
Surgeon raised an eyebrow. "What terrorists would those be?" he asked. It was a risk to be flippant, but such small victories were all he had, now.
"Then you deny having associated with Moses, Ascetalyne Sue, Daitokuji Kiyoshi, and a band of Karian insurrectionists in the service of the United Mechified Army?"
"Yes."
The Investigator looked towards the observers. "Let the record show that the suspect has denied association with the UMA." He opened up a briefcase and produced an official looking document. "Surgeon, I have here in my hand the signed, sworn testimony of three witnesses who claim that you were second in power only to Sue herself." He placed the document on the table in front of Surgeon.
Surgeon's heart sank into his knees. He looked down at the document. He didn't recognize the other two signatures, but Terry the Canary's panicked scrawl made his heart clench. A momentary surge of anger went through him. "It's a lie!" he hissed. "I tell you the truth, I did not know them."
"Moses?"
"I did not know him."
"Sue?"
"I did not know her."
"DAITOKUJI KIYOSHI!?"
"I did not know him."
The Investigator leaned in, and hatred seemed visible in his countenance. "What exactly do you know, Surgeon? You were named by three witnesses. If you can't give us someone else. Someone higher up in the ranks of the UMA, this board will be unable to help you."
Surgeon stared at the Investigator. He knew what that meant. Blacklisting. Once your name was on the black list, well, it didn't end well. Nobody would sell to you, nobody would go to your shop, all for fear of being named a UMA sympathizer. Like you. "... I..."
"Yes?"
Surgeon's thoughts raced. There had to be some way out of this! If only... wait, that was a possibility...! "There was a girl," he said.
"A girl?" the Investigator asked.
"Nineteen, maybe. Red eyes. Pale skin. She was there with Moses. Helping him. Helping to plan his strategy. Her name was Rei. She was important, I'm sure of it."
The Investigator glanced at the board, and Surgeon shuddered as he felt an uncomfortable crawling sensation under his skull. His thoughts were being probed, now. He focused on the image of the girl and what he knew of her, forcing that to the forefront, making damn sure that nothing else was on the surface.
The Investigator smiled. "Thank you for your cooperation, Surgeon."
After a moment, the Biomade Oversight board nodded to the investigator.
"Is that all? Can I go?"
"Yes, you can go," the Investigator said. His eyes looked almost gentle now. "You've been quite helpful, Surgeon." He glanced towards another darkened corner of the room, where sat two men and a women, all clad in Goshi uniforms, all looking dreadfully official. "Put his name on the list."
Surgeon's eyes widened. "You can't! I cooperated! I told you what I knew!"
The guards were dragging him out of the courtroom, now, and his medical cybernetic appendages dragged out behind him.
"Yes, you did. But you haven't told us anything we didn't already know. Good day, Surgeon."
They cast him out of the room, and the doors swung shut with a bang.
Surgeon stared at the closed door blankly for a long moment.
Blacklisted.
Ruined.
At last, with a heavy heart and feeling utterly disgusted, he trundled off towards the building's exit. Bile rose up in the back of his throat, and he cursed the day that he had ever heard the name of Ascetalyne Sue.
Damn Sue for dragging him into this. She had promised him a new world, a free world, where the Mechified didn't have to live lives of servitude to the Biomade. Surgeon was better educated that most Mechified, and for all his customization to repair and service other Mechified, he fancied himself a student of history more than anything else. He should have known it wouldn't have worked, he realized that much now. After all, hadn't the Biomade promised the same thing that Sue had when they'd led their own rebellion against the oppressive Allskin regime? And yet the moment the Biomade were put in power, well, far from a free society, they'd just replaced the Allskins at the top of the ladder. The oppressed became the oppressor. So it went. So it would have gone if Sue had won.
Ah, but Sue had seemed so convincing. There had been such passion in her eyes and in her voice. It had all gone so wrong.
Things were bad, now. Ever since Sue had been killed, and her head put up for all to see in the same square where Moses had tricked Goshi into believing he was surrendering, only to make a fool of them in front of the whole city. The head was still there, or so he'd heard. He hadn't had the chance to see it himself, and was beginning to doubt that he ever would.
The Goshi Investigator was waiting for his answer, but Surgeon abruptly realized he hadn't heard the question. He looked up. "What?" he asked.
The Investigator's face reddened slightly, and Surgeon was pretty sure it was anger and not shame that coloured the man's cheeks. ... He wasn't sure Biomade could feel shame.
"I ask again, Surgeon, are you now or have you ever been a UMA sympathizer?"
"No," Surgeon replied. His voice was thick and heavy, but the lie was getting easier with each repetition.
"Then you deny having associated with known terrorists?"
Surgeon raised an eyebrow. "What terrorists would those be?" he asked. It was a risk to be flippant, but such small victories were all he had, now.
"Then you deny having associated with Moses, Ascetalyne Sue, Daitokuji Kiyoshi, and a band of Karian insurrectionists in the service of the United Mechified Army?"
"Yes."
The Investigator looked towards the observers. "Let the record show that the suspect has denied association with the UMA." He opened up a briefcase and produced an official looking document. "Surgeon, I have here in my hand the signed, sworn testimony of three witnesses who claim that you were second in power only to Sue herself." He placed the document on the table in front of Surgeon.
Surgeon's heart sank into his knees. He looked down at the document. He didn't recognize the other two signatures, but Terry the Canary's panicked scrawl made his heart clench. A momentary surge of anger went through him. "It's a lie!" he hissed. "I tell you the truth, I did not know them."
"Moses?"
"I did not know him."
"Sue?"
"I did not know her."
"DAITOKUJI KIYOSHI!?"
"I did not know him."
The Investigator leaned in, and hatred seemed visible in his countenance. "What exactly do you know, Surgeon? You were named by three witnesses. If you can't give us someone else. Someone higher up in the ranks of the UMA, this board will be unable to help you."
Surgeon stared at the Investigator. He knew what that meant. Blacklisting. Once your name was on the black list, well, it didn't end well. Nobody would sell to you, nobody would go to your shop, all for fear of being named a UMA sympathizer. Like you. "... I..."
"Yes?"
Surgeon's thoughts raced. There had to be some way out of this! If only... wait, that was a possibility...! "There was a girl," he said.
"A girl?" the Investigator asked.
"Nineteen, maybe. Red eyes. Pale skin. She was there with Moses. Helping him. Helping to plan his strategy. Her name was Rei. She was important, I'm sure of it."
The Investigator glanced at the board, and Surgeon shuddered as he felt an uncomfortable crawling sensation under his skull. His thoughts were being probed, now. He focused on the image of the girl and what he knew of her, forcing that to the forefront, making damn sure that nothing else was on the surface.
The Investigator smiled. "Thank you for your cooperation, Surgeon."
After a moment, the Biomade Oversight board nodded to the investigator.
"Is that all? Can I go?"
"Yes, you can go," the Investigator said. His eyes looked almost gentle now. "You've been quite helpful, Surgeon." He glanced towards another darkened corner of the room, where sat two men and a women, all clad in Goshi uniforms, all looking dreadfully official. "Put his name on the list."
Surgeon's eyes widened. "You can't! I cooperated! I told you what I knew!"
The guards were dragging him out of the courtroom, now, and his medical cybernetic appendages dragged out behind him.
"Yes, you did. But you haven't told us anything we didn't already know. Good day, Surgeon."
They cast him out of the room, and the doors swung shut with a bang.
Surgeon stared at the closed door blankly for a long moment.
Blacklisted.
Ruined.
At last, with a heavy heart and feeling utterly disgusted, he trundled off towards the building's exit. Bile rose up in the back of his throat, and he cursed the day that he had ever heard the name of Ascetalyne Sue.
What a Mixer Sees
Life goes on. This is always true for the living. Life... continues. It isn't always easy. It isn't always fun. We may sometimes wish it didn't, it may sometimes be more than we can bear, but it always goes on. In the mines beneath Geneva Prime, Mickey the Mixer's life went on.
There's always the question, how do you go back? How do you return to everyday life when you've seen things that have changed you, scarred you, at times nearly unmade you? How do you turn from the fantastic to the mundane? How do you leave it all behind and get on with the business of living, knowing that life will not wait for you to catch up?
That's the rub.
He saw Terry the Canary around, sometimes. She was working with a deep mining team. Mickey knew how that was. Not the mining, but the need to be away from... everything. Seemed he couldn't turn a corner these days without knowing that it had been drenched with the blood of his friends. His friends... he saw Brick the other day. They'd ended up in the same lift. They hadn't said anything to each other, but just waited in uncomfortable silence for the ride to end. Then Brick had gotten off, and Mickey had stayed behind. There were guards everywhere, now. Goshi soldiers with masks for the dust. They seemed creepier than they used to, and things were worse. Much worse. Sometimes, Mickey wished that Moses had never come to them at all. Sometimes he hated Moses. Sometimes he wished that Sue and all the others had just worked their way through their lives. It's less trouble. Don't stand out. Don't draw attention. Do your work. Be useful. Good boy. You want to be useful, don't you?
Mickey wanted to be useful. Maybe that's why he was keeping a journal, now. He never would have done that before, but with all that happened, well, even a mixer needs to write it all down sometimes. So he did. He sat and he wrote, and sometimes cement sloshed out of his mixer and spilled onto the page and he had to start over, and sometimes he woke up with the ashes of burned pages all around him, but mostly he wrote and preserved what he wrote, and he never seemed to realize that every time he put his pen to the paper, his scribblings became feverish, frenzied. He saw things. Things he knew he had to write down, because whenever he saw them, he saw a teenage boy's blood red eyes. The eyes looked, and Mickey did what they wanted. It was easier that way. Less complicated. Less painful. When he did what the eyes wanted, things didn't seem so unbearable. It all made sense. Tears made him rust. That was bad.
The voice was supposed to have gone away. The one that made it had gone away. ... Why hadn't the voice gone away?
'Don't cry, Mickey,' he thought, again and again. It had become his mantra. His incantation against the darkness of his surroundings. 'Don't cry. You'll rust.'
He wrote all kinds of things, and it never occurred to him to read over what he wrote or wonder why he had written it. He wrote about the state of the Goshi soldiers. He wrote about the deposit of White-Rock. He wrote about the Eyeless. He wrote about the former members of the Underground Mechified Army. He wrote about all the things that a mixer should never see but did, because nobody worried about what a mixer might see. And when he wrote, he wrote in First Mind script. Over and over. A message for those with eyes to see. And he knew it was right. That it was useful.
Mickey wanted to be useful.
There's always the question, how do you go back? How do you return to everyday life when you've seen things that have changed you, scarred you, at times nearly unmade you? How do you turn from the fantastic to the mundane? How do you leave it all behind and get on with the business of living, knowing that life will not wait for you to catch up?
That's the rub.
He saw Terry the Canary around, sometimes. She was working with a deep mining team. Mickey knew how that was. Not the mining, but the need to be away from... everything. Seemed he couldn't turn a corner these days without knowing that it had been drenched with the blood of his friends. His friends... he saw Brick the other day. They'd ended up in the same lift. They hadn't said anything to each other, but just waited in uncomfortable silence for the ride to end. Then Brick had gotten off, and Mickey had stayed behind. There were guards everywhere, now. Goshi soldiers with masks for the dust. They seemed creepier than they used to, and things were worse. Much worse. Sometimes, Mickey wished that Moses had never come to them at all. Sometimes he hated Moses. Sometimes he wished that Sue and all the others had just worked their way through their lives. It's less trouble. Don't stand out. Don't draw attention. Do your work. Be useful. Good boy. You want to be useful, don't you?
Mickey wanted to be useful. Maybe that's why he was keeping a journal, now. He never would have done that before, but with all that happened, well, even a mixer needs to write it all down sometimes. So he did. He sat and he wrote, and sometimes cement sloshed out of his mixer and spilled onto the page and he had to start over, and sometimes he woke up with the ashes of burned pages all around him, but mostly he wrote and preserved what he wrote, and he never seemed to realize that every time he put his pen to the paper, his scribblings became feverish, frenzied. He saw things. Things he knew he had to write down, because whenever he saw them, he saw a teenage boy's blood red eyes. The eyes looked, and Mickey did what they wanted. It was easier that way. Less complicated. Less painful. When he did what the eyes wanted, things didn't seem so unbearable. It all made sense. Tears made him rust. That was bad.
The voice was supposed to have gone away. The one that made it had gone away. ... Why hadn't the voice gone away?
'Don't cry, Mickey,' he thought, again and again. It had become his mantra. His incantation against the darkness of his surroundings. 'Don't cry. You'll rust.'
He wrote all kinds of things, and it never occurred to him to read over what he wrote or wonder why he had written it. He wrote about the state of the Goshi soldiers. He wrote about the deposit of White-Rock. He wrote about the Eyeless. He wrote about the former members of the Underground Mechified Army. He wrote about all the things that a mixer should never see but did, because nobody worried about what a mixer might see. And when he wrote, he wrote in First Mind script. Over and over. A message for those with eyes to see. And he knew it was right. That it was useful.
Mickey wanted to be useful.
Mickey the Mixer
Don't cry Mickey. Don't cry. You'll rust.
Oh Sue, I'm so sorry! I tried... I meant to follow you. To fight with you. Omar and Amos strapped the chain gun to me. It was so heavy. Not, in a physical sense. Not heavy like concrete is heavy. Heavy like death is heavy. I just stared at it. Amos was trying to tell me how to fire it. I know they gave it to me because they expected me to be useless in a fight, and I am.
I hate Bullet-Spitters. What makes you do that? Design yourself so that the only thing you're good for is killing people. Why are there so many of them? And Goshi loves it. They love it when we turn each other into heaps of shrapnel.
I'm sorry, Sue. They scared me. I'm still scared. I haven't moved the whole time. I saw Omar and Amos go in. I heard the fighting. I heard your scream of rage Sue and I knew you were angry because your boys were dying. You've tried so hard to protect us. I know that. I know we have to protect each other and to be brave, but I... I do the dishes.
I didn't climb in the lift. I found a dark nook and I stayed there. I watched the Bullet-Spitters without eyes come out of the shadows and stand, waiting for the lift to come back up. You came out and you were so angry Sue. Even the Allskin was risking his life, getting shot and bleeding. Even the beautiful Vorax - she had a look on her face that I never want to see again, ever. She cut - she cut one of them in half. I was sick then, quietly, in my hand.
You all left, and I stayed hiding. I couldn't come out and tell you that I hadn't been able to help in the battle. I couldn't do that, so I stayed hidden. I heard more gunshots later, a long way off, and I was afraid you were dead.
It stayed silent for a long time. I didn't think I would ever leave that nook, but then I saw the pink light. A wavery pink light coming around the corner. It was like flame dancing around a man's fist. A Biomade. I nearly shot him, but the realization that I hadn't been able to shoot even the horrible eyeless Bullet-Spitters made me stop. I was not about to kill anyone. He wore a long dark coat of some fancy fabric, and his black hair was cut so long it fell over his eyes.
He walked right up to me. He had a finger to his lips making a shushing sound and for some reason it made me feel much better.
It's okay, Mickey. He didn't speak out loud. He said it in my mind.
You don't need to be scared anymore. Sue and the others will be back very soon. Why don't you go home and get the place ready for them.
That sounded fine. I could do that. I would get some more candy out for High Dive. I like watching her eat candy.
Everything will be fine. I just need you to give them a little message for me.
Okay. I can be a messenger.
He leaned in close to me and touched my forehead. There was a bright flash and for a moment I couldn't see. When my vision cleared his face was right there in front of me, with his hair brushed to the side. He had the strangest pink eyes. No. Red. Blood Red.
Go home now Mickey. Everything will be fine.
Oh Sue, I'm so sorry! I tried... I meant to follow you. To fight with you. Omar and Amos strapped the chain gun to me. It was so heavy. Not, in a physical sense. Not heavy like concrete is heavy. Heavy like death is heavy. I just stared at it. Amos was trying to tell me how to fire it. I know they gave it to me because they expected me to be useless in a fight, and I am.
I hate Bullet-Spitters. What makes you do that? Design yourself so that the only thing you're good for is killing people. Why are there so many of them? And Goshi loves it. They love it when we turn each other into heaps of shrapnel.
I'm sorry, Sue. They scared me. I'm still scared. I haven't moved the whole time. I saw Omar and Amos go in. I heard the fighting. I heard your scream of rage Sue and I knew you were angry because your boys were dying. You've tried so hard to protect us. I know that. I know we have to protect each other and to be brave, but I... I do the dishes.
I didn't climb in the lift. I found a dark nook and I stayed there. I watched the Bullet-Spitters without eyes come out of the shadows and stand, waiting for the lift to come back up. You came out and you were so angry Sue. Even the Allskin was risking his life, getting shot and bleeding. Even the beautiful Vorax - she had a look on her face that I never want to see again, ever. She cut - she cut one of them in half. I was sick then, quietly, in my hand.
You all left, and I stayed hiding. I couldn't come out and tell you that I hadn't been able to help in the battle. I couldn't do that, so I stayed hidden. I heard more gunshots later, a long way off, and I was afraid you were dead.
It stayed silent for a long time. I didn't think I would ever leave that nook, but then I saw the pink light. A wavery pink light coming around the corner. It was like flame dancing around a man's fist. A Biomade. I nearly shot him, but the realization that I hadn't been able to shoot even the horrible eyeless Bullet-Spitters made me stop. I was not about to kill anyone. He wore a long dark coat of some fancy fabric, and his black hair was cut so long it fell over his eyes.
He walked right up to me. He had a finger to his lips making a shushing sound and for some reason it made me feel much better.
It's okay, Mickey. He didn't speak out loud. He said it in my mind.
You don't need to be scared anymore. Sue and the others will be back very soon. Why don't you go home and get the place ready for them.
That sounded fine. I could do that. I would get some more candy out for High Dive. I like watching her eat candy.
Everything will be fine. I just need you to give them a little message for me.
Okay. I can be a messenger.
He leaned in close to me and touched my forehead. There was a bright flash and for a moment I couldn't see. When my vision cleared his face was right there in front of me, with his hair brushed to the side. He had the strangest pink eyes. No. Red. Blood Red.
Go home now Mickey. Everything will be fine.
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