The Subjects looked at each other and then at King James. Nobody spoke.
“Let me ask you this,” Old Fart said. “Who would be better suited to using the weapons above ground? Is there a group like that?”
The Subjects and King James stared silently, blinking. “Above ground?” King James asked finally, his voice shaking.
Old Fart raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what Eadie is supposed to do for you folks,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure her plans will involve at least some of you going up there.” He pointed up at the tunnel’s curved roof but their eyes did not follow.
Old Fart sighed. “All right. Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “For now you’ll put everything back in storage. Start asking around in your groups, and in other groups, too. Find Subjects who might be willing to go above ground. I’ll talk to Eadie about the weapons and her intentions. King James, can you assist them in seeking out volunteers?”
King James nodded feebly.
The metalsmith’s workshop, New Union territory
A barely audible footstep drew Sato’s attention toward the door. Spiral stood in the hall, bowing as Sato had taught him. Sato nodded and turned back to face the metalsmith, an old man with a permanent squint, his wrinkled forehead caked with grease and soot.
“I’m surprised to find you here, Frontman Samurai,” Spiral said. “I thought your sword was already finished.”
Sato kept his eyes fixed on the blade, held over the fire on two cinder blocks. Suspended above it were two cans, one with oil and one with water. Wires extended downward from each, ending just above the part of the blade being worked. Drops of oil and water dripped from the wires onto the hot part of the blade where they reacted and flared. The metalsmith pulled the blade toward him, pounding with precise strokes.
“There was a spot that was slightly thicker than the rest,” Sato told him. “One could not detect it by sight, but I could feel it when I wiped the blade.”
Spiral lowered his voice. “How did you convince him to do all this for you? I heard he never did favors for anyone. Elements say Top Dog has him working day and night on the imparters.
Sato answered just as quietly. “I gave him my share of the spoils from our work.”
“Must’ve been a lot, Frontman.”
“All I had.”
Spiral gaped. “All?”
Sato nodded as the red steel cooled to a dull dark gray. He saw Spiral’s disconcertingly wide eyes flick to the topknot Sato had grown and oiled. Brian had apparently not objected, since he had made no attempt to interfere. “It was worth everything. This man is not a sword maker by trade but he has taken direction well. He even worked the back of the blade less than the edge so that it would flex more but the blade would still hone razor sharp.”
The metalsmith handed Sato the sword, which was still radiating heat. Sato nodded at him. He showed the grip to Spiral, who reverently touched it with the tips of two fingers. “Bone handles, wrapped in string I dipped in the rubber we use to resole shoes when the rain’s acid eats them away,” Sato said. “The bone is bolted through the blade, around a core which is made of rubberized string, as well. The string wraps around the outside in this diamond pattern, leaving the bone exposed between the wrappings so that the diamonds are deep enough to grip fingers when in battle.”
“And what’s this guard at the top of the handle, Frontman Samurai?”
“I am told this was once a beverage container: an aluminum can. I pounded it flat over a long period of time so that now there are multiple layers, but all are thin and lightweight.”
“It’s a beautiful weapon, sir.”
“Now that my hands feel better I am looking forward to testing it in battle.”
“You’ll still carry a gun, of course, sir.”
“Yes.” Sato winced. “One that was captured from the despicable merchant army in my first raid.” He gripped the sword tighter. “Those parasites armed with their honorless blasting weapons are an intolerable plague in this world.”
Sato left the room, sword in hand, with Spiral tagging along behind him through the winding halls. “No battles of any kind for a few days now, sir. I hope you’ll get to use it soon. Don’t know about you, but I’m climbing the fuckin’ walls waiting to taste the Juice again, sir.”
Spiral’s words reminded the samurai of his brief encounter with the Life Force itself. He suppressed a shudder. Juice certainly had its appeal, but nothing could compare to the Life Force in its pure, natural and irresistible form. His desire for reunion with it intensified daily; it was the singular purpose behind his every action. Juice was powerful, but dark and slippery, caustic and cruel. The Life Force was beyond description, beyond power, beyond love. As the source of all life, its essence was greater, its magic more awe-inspiring, than the mere trace of it each man carried inside him; in the parlance of this place, it was beyond even the soul. This mission was dragging on too long! Sato swallowed and examined his sword blade, which was still too hot to put away.
“I mean, sodje only goes so far, sir,” Spiral said. “Sometimes I wake up feeling like part of my insides have been removed, and then I realize it’s only the Juice I’m missing.”
“What is it that you want, Spiral? You know I cannot authorize Juice for you until battle.” They had reached the doorway of Sato’s room. He slipped off his shoes and stared at Spiral until he slipped off his own.
“Of course, Frontman. I’m here to ask about my position within the Front. I have served well for you and this Front, sir. I was hoping you might consider me for a promotion.”
Sato nodded. “You are the best Rounder I have at my command. You want to officially be my second.”
Spiral copied Sato’s nod, dipping his head a little deeper to demonstrate his deference and respect.
“If Coiner and Top Dog agree, you shall be second, Spiral.” Sato’s head snapped toward a tiny movement at the edge of his vision. It was a small roach crawling from the very bottom left corner of the wall. Sato watched as the roach changed its course, angling sharply and increasingly upward and gaining speed. As the roach began a straight vertical climb toward the ceiling, Sato spun around, striking with the tip of his sword. The insect and part of the wall behind it disintegrated, settling to the floor as dust.
Amelix Retreat
A SUBSIDIARY OF AMELIX INTEGRATIONS
Reconditioning Feedback Form
Seeker of Understanding
INVOLUNTARY, GRADE FOUR
Subject: #117B882QQ
Division: Corporate Regulations
Dear #117B882QQ,
Congratulations on your upgrade to Seeker of Understanding, Involuntary, Grade Four. This change in status will initiate an automatic review of your case file to assess your eligibility for advancement to the order of Amelix Accepted.
1. Please describe any significant events or interactions you experienced today. Include an account of your personal reaction to each.
I physically left my room for the first time today. Andrew removed my privacy-protecting face cover, which made me feel naked after being shielded from view for so long. He walked me down the hall to the familiar conference room I’d seen in holograms but had never actually visited. A rifle and field kit, just like the ones I’d used in holograms, sat on a table.
Never before had Andrew spoken more than a few words to me at a time. Today he talked a lot. It made me feel I’d earned the right to be addressed.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve survived the training. Now you must decide how you’ll fight in the war.”
He nodded. “You were used to thinking about war in barbaric terms, so we trained you that way.” he said, guiding me to a chair. He sat next to me, which seemed to indicate that we could now interact as near equals.
“It was hard for you to relate blood and gore and violence to Amelix’s work, because our war is quiet and civilized,” he said. “War itself has evolved, but it’s still about resources, just like always.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand,” I said.
He pointed at the steel door that had served as the gateway to battle in every combat hologram. “This is the real door, and beyond it is the real Zone. On the other side are all the lower life forms, fighting to survive. Fighting for resources. Fighting alone. I think you know how long you’ll last if you choose to leave Amelix. You knew it before you came here; that’s why you tried to kill yourself.
“Our war is quieter, Eric, but it’s still about life and death. Amelix isn’t just your employer. We’re your army. You will either choose to rejoin us as a fully Accepted member of our corporation, with a clean slate upon which you will map your career, or you will fight alone. “
To hear my name spoken again after so long felt strange and surreal. It should have drawn my attention back to Andrew, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the door. “I’m leaving this room, now, Eric. Both that door and the one through which I’ll return to Amelix will remain unlocked. One of these doors opens onto your future. You must decide which it is and pass through. Your choice will be irrevocable.”
Then he left. I watched the door close behind him and I sat, stunned. The steel door unlocked itself with its familiar echoing metallic thunk. Afraid of whatever feelings I might dredge up and what pathway amplification might do with them, I found myself unable to think, looking from one door to the other.
Then one idea emerged on the edge of my consciousness, first like a tiny, high-pitched buzz in one ear, and then growing until it screamed. The door to the Zone was open! That meant whatever was outside could come in!
I jumped up and ran, following Andrew back into the company.
Underground
“Listen, Eadie, I’m not sure this is necessary …” Lawrence said. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t we get on with what we were doing?” About fifty Subjects were assembled in a wide, flat room that still had some old water pumping equipment in one corner. They stood meekly in three lines, their faces pointed toward the floor. Their trainers stood before them, nervously watching as Eadie grabbed the lead trainer by the chin.
“Tell me, Doorin,” Eadie said. “How do you discipline these soldiers?”
“General …” the man said haltingly. “We do what we always do. We ignore the offender and refuse any social contact until he or she repents before the group. This is our way, General …”
“Your way is fine if you never intend to do anything but scurry around down here like mice, but it’s a pathetic method for training fighters.” She gestured to a diminutive Subject cowering in the front line. “This man fucked up and blew the whole training exercise. You know what that’s going to get us when the Great Mother sends us up there?” She pointed up. Their heads stayed down. “Pain. Maybe a hell of a lot more than that, but pain for sure. Please do not train my holy army to be weak and pathetic.”
Doorin hunched his shoulders until his chest was almost parallel with the floor. “Yes, General,” he whispered.
She grabbed him by the rags that served as his shirt. “I don’t need you to be humble and submissive. I need you to grow a spine! I need results!” She slapped him across the face. “This is discipline! This!” She slapped him again then spun him around, taking a fistful of the clothes behind him and pushing him forward. “You try.”
Doorin slapped his student listlessly. Eadie struck the back of his head with her palm. “Try again.”
She commanded Doorin to hit the man several more times before she released him and stepped back, raising her voice until it sounded through the chambers adjoining the big room. “We’re training you Subjects to fight for your rightful share of the Great Mother’s bounty. There’s a whole system up there, ready to crush you. Most of you ended up here after it nearly crushed you before. I have spoken with the Prophet and it is agreed: The solution to the Underground Kingdom’s situation is discipline. We will not tolerate anything else.
“Carry on,” Eadie said. She stormed out of the chamber, glancing sideways at Lawrence as she passed. He opened his mouth to say something but she raised a palm.
“Don’t even start, Lawrence,” she said, “unless you want me to prove I can discipline you, too.” He fell in behind her and their two guides scrambled to resume their position in front, each carrying a lantern to light their way through the winding tubes.
“We do need obedience, Lawrence,” she said without turning toward him. “But it’s more than just that. We also need passion. Without it, we’ll never win.”
“Win what?” Lawrence asked. He kept his eyes forward as she shot him a threatening glance.
“Ring trap!” the guides said, pointing at the floor. Lawrence was starting to recognize the pattern of cracks that indicated a ring trap; the pieces of concrete arranged along the bottom of the tunnel that would collapse under a foot and bring a huge portion of the ceiling down on whoever was passing. It was the most common device here, probably because it required very little in the way of resources to set it up. The guides carried a special board with them, with feet at each end that could be placed over the various traps. He carefully walked along the board and over the ring as the guides held the lanterns, and then the guides were off again, zipping through the tunnel ahead of him, board wagging gently behind the last one with every step.
“Are we going through any old basements this time?” Lawrence asked. “I like the basements. Nice, flat floors, walls that go straight up and down … ceilings that you don’t bang your head on no matter which way you turn … “
“I don’t think so,” Eadie said. “They’re taking us farther and farther from places where ordinary people might wander in. Those old basements and boiler rooms can still sometimes be reached from above, you know. Same with all the steam tunnels we use so much. I think the Subjects have done a lot to seal them off from the outside world, but this seems like a more remote area to me.”
Her hand appeared on his shoulder. She leaned in close. Lawrence’s thoughts flew to the time when he’d been a wealthy student, she’d been a waitress, and he’d so often fantasized about being the one to rescue her.
“I need you to stay close to me, Lawrence,” Eadie said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Back then, it would have thrilled him to hear those words from her. Now he just found it confusing. In the diner, he’d been a prince. Now he had no corporation, no family, no money or social standing or future. In Eadie’s world, nobody had things like that. People who weren’t extraordinary in some way, like Eadie or Kel or Dok, weren’t likely to survive. And Lawrence wasn’t a leader or a fighter or a healer. He had never done anything to distinguish himself, unless you counted throwing away his future and disgracing his family.
“Why me?” he asked.
“The Subjects are so deferential and subdued that there’s no way to be sure what they’re actually thinking. I can’t trust them. I need at least one person around me who will always be honest and straightforward. And who I can be sure isn’t a threat. That’s you.”
Lawrence sighed and smiled to himself. Not a threat. That was him.
“Whatever you need, Eadie. I’m glad to help if I can.”
They hadn’t taken many steps before the guides gave another warning. “Dart trap!” It was the kind where a single stone displaced by an errant foot would create a cascade of others onto a special bladder dug under the tunnel, which forced air through tiny, hidden tubes and fired a barrage of mycotoxin-coated darts.
They climbed over the dart trap and went another ten paces or so before the guides called out again. “Drop trap!”
It was an ancient technique, having the floor suddenly drop out and the trespasser plummet to a grisly end on the sharpened debris below, but the Subjects had made these particularly nasty. The protruding rocks one might grab to stop a fall had all been loosened and planted with hidden poisonous barbs. Toxic fungi grew on the sharp surfaces below the drop trap, and Lawrence had been told that the corpse of a single victim could keep those st
rains alive and actively producing toxins down there for a thousand years.
As they progressed along the path, the traps were laid closer and closer together. At last they reached a tunnel that had been completely collapsed by a triggered ring trap. The debris sealed the tube from bottom to top.
The guides set down their lanterns and began working to move a concrete slab at the edge of the debris. About half of it was covered by the collapse, but they were able to loosen the part closest to them. They tugged on the slab, pulling it out and away, finally revealing an opening wide enough for a person to enter. They climbed over a small threshold and beckoned for Eadie and Lawrence to follow.
Eadie went through first, gasping as she straightened up. Then Lawrence, who had been left in the dark, clambered through the entryway. He, too, had room enough to stand. The chamber was not very wide, but it was long enough that all four of them could have stretched out on the floor end to end.
Down the middle of the room was a narrow path. The area immediately inside was a pile of sticks, chains, bats, knives, and other varieties of slashing, stabbing, and clubbing weapons. Behind this pile, stacked from floor to ceiling on either side of the walkway, were hundreds and hundreds of guns.
There were old handguns like Old Fart carried, assault rifles like the Fiends had used at the hotel, recently-manufactured guns like the UE had, and even some Federal weapons. About a third of them had been smashed by the various traps that had claimed them. The rest looked to be in perfect working order. Hanging from the gun barrels were other kinds of military equipment like pieces of body armor, grenades, firebombs, and communications gear.
The Book of Eadie, Volume One of the Seventeen Trilogy Page 30