by Orion, W. J.
“Trust. You gotta trust right now,” Brent said. “Let that guard down. Take off that armor. Join something a little bit bigger than you.”
Against every ounce of her will, Yaz decided to listen, and to trust.
And join.
Chapter Seventeen
Special Delivery
Yasmine spent the next few days in states that fluctuated between panic, horror, anxiety, terror, worry, glee, comfort, discomfort, pain, and relaxed joy. Most of the time she didn’t get the luxury of experiencing just one of those emotions at a time. She had to juggle a few simultaneously, and injured like she was, and hopped up on the strong painkillers Dr. Sonneborn gave her, she just wasn’t equipped for the emotional work put in front of her.
So she cried.
And that made it so much worse. Crying was a lost expression of emotion in the wastes of the world. Beyond the fact that the need to survive overrode any emotion, crying was a tragic loss of water. You couldn’t get that water back; you couldn’t drink it, or put it in the pee jugs for the solar stills. It was gone forever into the cloudless sky. Crying was a luxury no one could afford.
So when she cried (for the first time in a very long time) she felt terrible about wasting Shant’s precious water. Dr. Sonneborn told her over and over not to worry about it, but that only made the frivolous tears flow faster. It didn’t help when he brought her a worn plastic cup half full of cool water. Drinking it helped, but she worried she’d waste that too.
All of her emotions (good and bad) stemmed from being locked up in the clinic with the good doctor to do the light work he’d asked her to do in the first place. She didn’t really mind the boring work, but to be asked to do nothing important while Brent was planning a trip to the wastes to get the supplies Trey led her to…
Straight up torture.
Then Trey himself didn’t respond to her text messages the first night, which sent her into yet another emotional tailspin. Was he dead? Did he no longer need her? The next night when Brent took his small group out to the drainage culvert Trey didn’t text her again, and the two events made her feel beyond worthless.
Lot of water got wasted in the dark of that night.
She had been given the all clear by Dr. Sonneborn to await Brent and crew’s arrival in the lobby, and she damn well did. Several flat pillows and a few blankets accompanied her to the patched and frayed chairs of the clinic, and she put her feet up to wait. Just being in a different room, sitting in a different position felt like flying compared to that prison cell she’d been locked up in down the hall.
Her mom’s phone told her it was 3:15 in the morning when a fabric-wrapped, armored Brent pulled open the front glass door and strode into the lobby. He panted from exhaustion as dust and dirt fell from the folds of his clothing. Outside she heard the sand scraping away at the side of the building, and the pockmarked glass of the door. A dust storm. Nothing fun to be in the midst of.
He lifted the two-piece set of swim goggles off of his eyes and tore away the bandana he had across his dust-covered face and revealed a pearly white smile that threatened to go all the way around to the back of his head. He locked eyes with her and shook his head, happier than anyone she’d ever seen.
“I had faith in you, kid. Such faith,” he said, and walked towards her. He towered over her as he sat beside her. “But I had no idea just who you were. Or what you were capable of. Come here,” he said, and dropped to a knee to grapple her in a hug that she disappeared in.
His body was hot, despite the cold of the night, and his embrace felt comforting. Hugs never felt comforting.
“You got it all?” she asked him as he stood.
“Yeah we did. Had to bring a rickshaw to get it moved here, but we got all the plastic bins and some of the boxes. Not sure why they had spray paint. Didn’t grab the crab there though. Boy that thing… is scary. Just standing there like that. I nearly unloaded my shotgun into it and I knew it wasn’t alive.”
She sat forward.
“Did you look underneath it? Did you see the area I was talking about inside it?”
“I did,” he said. “There was an armored hatch recessed away to make that opening. I think you’re right; that isn’t a suit of armor. It’s a vehicle. Maybe a robot missing its brain. Would explain a lot of why the crabs never seemed danger avoidant during the war. No fear of dying.”
“I didn’t think of that. I guess whatever the crabs really are, they might just be putting robot brains into the crab vehicles and sending them down to do their dirty work. Maybe there aren’t any crabs at all. Just automated machines.”
“Yeah. We’ll worry about that later,” Brent said. “Or maybe never, what with the war being lost and all.” As he spoke the glass door opened and a man carrying three of the plastic cases entered. He was wrapped in layers of fabric to protect his exposed skin from the wind and sand. “Drop it right there Gordon, thank you.” Gordon (her gate guard nemesis) sat the cases down and exited to get more.
Maybe he’s not so bad after all. “Windy tonight?”
“Yeah. Bad night for a trip out, but we didn’t dare wait,” Brent said. “Let me help them.”
She nodded, and after pulling the fabric up to cover his face, and his swim goggles down to cover his eyes, he walked back out into the storm.
Brent and his two friends left everything in the lobby and an elated Dr. Sonneborn locked the door behind them. Not before she got a promise from Brent that he would return in the morning. She hobbled her way back to the patient room that was hers and left the good doctor to sort through the treasure trove at his doorstep. Yaz smiled the whole way back to the room, and still smiled as she rested into the bed and put her feet up. She thought of Trey, and 3:33 in the morning.
Despite being afraid that he wouldn’t message her again that night—or ever—sleep came fast.
Are you healing well?
Yes.
Where have you been?
I had to lay low. The Baron’s been around. I’m sorry.
You’re safe?
No, but I’m alive still, so I consider that movement in the right direction.
I hear ya. I’m scared for you.
Thank you. I’m scared for me too. I’m in shallow water.
I’m really happy to hear from you. I’ve been worried. We got the meds out from the culvert.
Fantastic! You got help then?
Yeah. Some friends here in Shant.
That’s terrific. Do you know if the medicine is still good?
I think so. Good enough to make a real difference in the lives of the people here.
Meds retrieved, and you’re on the mend. This is a good day.
Hey, we’re hearing that some of the Monoliths are out in the wastes now. Are they out here because we’re talking? Do they know?
Highly unlikely. From what I’ve seen they would have no way to eavesdrop on us.
If they’re out there, it’s for need or greed.
The people here are worried they’ll scavenge what’s left and leave us with nothing.
That’s a valid fear. The Monoliths seem to only look out for themselves. They’re powerful too. If they want a war… Many will die.
Dammit.
Okay.
So you owe me answers. I trusted you, and you misled me, kind of.
What’s the deal with the crab vehicle hidden in the culvert?
Time passed. To Yaz it felt like an hour, but it was really only a minute or two.
The group I ran with? We studied extraterrestrial life.
Whoa. Like NASA?
Like NASA, yeah. So bear with me. There’s a lot to cover.
Crabs aren’t crabs, really. Not crustaceans. They’re actually a creature similar to squids. Small, about the size of a human index finger.
Wow.
Yeah. Crabs are very unique in that they are telepathic, and bioelectrogenic.
Smaller words please.
Hard one first:
Bioelectrogenic means th
ey make their own electricity. Ever learn about electric eels?
Yeah, my mom had me read a biology book when I was a kid.
Same idea. One crab can give you a jolt, but a few of them working in concert… They can protect themselves. Small creatures need stuff like that to stay safe.
Also, they’ve developed tech to harness and amplify their power. They can power anything designed to accept the energy they make. The guns on their vehicles… in fact, the whole vehicle is powered by the crabs themselves. More crabs equals bigger vehicles.
What you call a shrimp might be 10-50 crabs in a single colony, powering a small vehicle. A regular crab might be 100-300, and the tanks are 500-1000 crabs inside. All little telepathic squids.
Wow. Infinite electricity?
So long as they can eat and breathe fresh water. I mean, basically.
That’s why they came here then? To steal the water for themselves?
Yeah. More or less. I would classify them as predatory in their need for resources.
So crabs (squids, whatever you call them) communicate via telepathy. They’re aquatic right? So they evolved powerful mental powers that allow them to communicate with one another via the mind.
Further, crabs share personalities across colonies.
Colonies?
Yeah. One crab by itself is a lonely, weak creature. When crabs of similar thought patterns find each other, they band into colonies that form a collective identity. So when you meet one “crab” you’re actually meeting a colony of the little guys that’ve become one entity.
That’s so weird. So the crab that attacked me in the school was actually a few hundred little squids inside a vehicle?
Yeah.
Each crab vehicle is designed for a different purpose. Some are for war, some exploration and science, some just for travel. Hell, the giant ships they fly in the sky, across space are all powered by their bioelectrogenesis.
That’s crazy.
Here’s a thought to ponder, and it’s crazier than everything I’ve told you so far, ready?
Hit me.
Not all of the crabs are bad.
Really?
Really. Earth was invaded by crabs, yeah, but not all of them were onboard. Many crabs fight against their own kind to stop their ways. I wouldn’t call it a civil war, but there’s a resistance effort in their own species.
I’ve never once seen a crab be helpful.
All they do is steal water and murder people.
I’m sorry.
To help they have to stay in the shadows. Help humans here, help humans there. Kill bad crabs when the opportunity presents itself.
I see. They’re outnumbered then?
Yeah, 10 to 1 at least. There’s something else too.
What’s that?
Crabs are… well. I guess you’d say they’re pretty much immortal.
Like vampires?
How so? I know humans have destroyed crabs before, so they can be killed.
Sure, yeah. The vehicles and the crabs inside can be destroyed, but the only way to kill a crab colony (the hive mind in total of a colony) is to kill each and every squid in it.
Huh?
If a colony of crabs has 100 little squids in it, they would never actually put all 100 in danger. At most, they’d put 90 out there. The other 10 would stay back in a safe place on their ship in the event the 90 were killed, or compromised.
No way.
Way. And the personality (many memories, experiences, emotions) remain with the safety population left behind. Over time, the remainder will breed with itself, and the colony will grow.
So if I were to have killed a crab…?
It is likely breeding somewhere on a starship in orbit, right above us. Angry at you, I’d imagine.
And it remembers me?
If it sees you again, I’d run. There’s a chance during the self-destruct process its short term memories of you transmitted back to the home population. Do you remember what color its shell was?
Black with red.
Really? Are you sure?
Yeah. I’ll never forget when it looked up at me. Why?
That’s a… um… I think you could call it an insurgent tracker. A hunter/killer of good crabs and interfering humans. The worst of the bad. A smart killer, not just a soldier.
Shit.
Yeah. Let’s hope you got 99% of it and it takes a few years for it to recuperate.
So… all of this is amazing to know, but it doesn’t explain how you knew that empty crab vehicle would be down there.
Time passed again. Trey obviously needed to calibrate a message, and this time, Yaz was ready for the wait. When he messaged, she thought she’d be ready, but she wasn’t.
I worked with some of the good crabs.
What? Really?
Yeah. That’s why that stash was there. That vehicle is a spare we left behind in case a replacement was needed.
Wow. How many were there of you.
Not nearly enough. Look, please keep an open mind.
Yeah.
I will.
Is that how you got captured by the Baron’s men?
Bingo. We were in the city, helping out and his goons hit us. We were wiped out, and I was taken hostage. You can’t really talk your way out of the work we were doing. No explanation would’ve satisfied them.
Crabs are bad.
Jesus. Why’d they take you?
One of the lucky survivors. Too injured to escape. They’ll kill me soon enough. Or I’ll die of thirst or starvation.
They’re not feeding you?
No, not really. I’ll be malnourished soon. Die not long after that.
And that’s just the start of my problems, lol.
This time, Yaz made him wait. She typed out a response, deleted it, typed another and deleted that, and once she settled on a message she hit send before she could think too hard on it.
Can you be rescued?
I think so.
I’m afraid to ask you now. I don’t want you to get hurt.
I’ll decide if I want to get hurt. Can you be rescued?
If you can make your way to the city without being killed or worse, then ascend to the top of the Monolith tower where I’m locked up without being killed or worse, and then help me fight our way down and out…
Sure, I can be rescued.
I’d best start planning then, eh?
The Baron and his men will kill you, Yaz. They’re bad people. Just like some crabs are bad, some people are too.
I know. I’ve dealt with the worst of both my whole life. I know Shant is a place worth risking my life for, and I think you’re a person worth risking my life for too.
I don’t know what to say.
Start with thank you. And right after that, tell me everything you can about the city, the Baron’s army, and how you’re held hostage.
Dr. Sonneborn says I’ll be healed in a week, and I want to start on this as soon as I can.
They texted for over an hour after that, and an exhausted Yasmine fell asleep, and had dreams about tiny squids with sharp teeth swimming in a sea of lightning.
Chapter Eighteen
Competition Benefits the Consumer
Shantytown convened a morning council two days after Trey told Yasmine what he knew about the crabs. Brent called for it, and organized the council selection draft and meeting in the central parking garage, right outside his chain link stall, across from the man who cooked up lizards.
Dr. Sonneborn was one of the random citizens drawn for the council, and because Brent called for the meeting, he attended too. A wispy ghost of a woman who was old before the crabs came sat on a creaking wooden chair, and a teenage boy she’d seen working the solar stills was there as well. He looked at her with awkward, hungry eyes. She didn’t need magic to know what he was thinking.
He thought she was pretty.
The fifth and final voter was another tall man—taller than Dr. Sonneborn—wrapped in tight fabrics that obscured his
entire body. Black welding goggles covered his eyes meant not an inch of skin saw air or daylight. He leaned against one of the cement columns of the garage, arms crossed, well away from the main group. Several others watched on, mostly the other tired, hungry and thirsty people who tried to sell things at the market in nearby stalls. The market would open soon, as it always did, so having front row seats to a council meeting was a welcome break in the monotony of their dry, difficult lives.
Yasmine sat on a stool in Brent’s shop beside Kim and the boys.
“Yasmine has a history of being a fair trader here in the market,” Brent said in the center of the group. “She’s salvaged more parts for me than the next three scavengers combined. She’s gotten everything Shant has asked of her in due time, and she’s been consistent with what she’s asked for it.”
“Aye,” the old lady in the chair agreed. “She found me a wheelchair last year. Only asked for a knit blanket in return.”
“I love that blanket,” Yasmine said.
The old lady smiled.
“And now, as our doctor can attest to, she’s delivered on the locations of a haul of medicine large enough to sustain Shant’s needs for years. Bandages, cleaners, hygiene products, you name it, she’s given it to us.”
“Brent’s right. It’s a treasure trove. She’s saved lives with what she gave to Shant,” Dr. Sonneborn said.
“She didn’t give us anything though, did she?” the hidden man said through the cotton mask across his face. He uncrossed his arms and tilted his head towards Yasmine. “She is a trader, not a giver. What does she want from the people of Shantytown for this treasure?”
“It should be known she gave the goods to us before bartering. She’s asked a steep trade, but a fair one,” Brent answered the man. “She wants water and food in reasonable quantities, and medical care for life-“
“…And I’ve already agreed to that portion,” Dr. Sonneborn interjected. “So that’s a done deal between she and I.”
“And, she’s asked for a modest residence inside the settlement walls,” Brent added.
Yasmine started to leap off her stool to protest Brent’s false demand but Kim snatched up Yaz’s wrist. The young woman looked to the mother at her side, pleading to be let free to speak the truth but Kim’s face told Yaz everything about what she needed to do.