by Reese Hogan
“Probably because that’s where Galene Marduc went,” said Andrew, “and that’s what his map was based on. When Belzen stole it and used it for shrouding, they built it into those vehicles to shroud here. Otherwise, you could probably go anywhere.” He turned to Klara Yana, his eyes widening. “I bet you could go anywhere, if you tried!”
Living gods. Blackwood’s little brother could put stuff together faster than Klara Yana could even think of the questions. She was starting to see why Cu Zanthus had been so excited to see him again. If it weren’t for the boy’s emotional immaturity, he’d make a formidable partner for Cu Zanthus. She was burning with questions, and realized that, against all odds, Andrew might be the best person to talk to. But she couldn’t come out and ask him, not in front of Blackwood. What would Deckman Holland care?
She had to look like she was siding with the CSO. Very carefully, she said, “But that creature I met… it wasn’t really a god. That’s impossible.”
“But maybe it was!” Andrew said. “In the past, if the gods could come from Neutania to Mirrix–”
“Wait,” Blackwood cut in. “We’re not talking about this.”
“But, Mila, the creatures! The similarities!” Andrew protested. “We saw the one like Shon Aha, right? There had to have been some crossover, early on. This could have even been where Vo Hina was banished to!”
Klara Yana almost choked. “Shon Aha?” she whispered.
“Andrew, no!” said Blackwood. “I’m begging you, for all our sakes. Do not start again!”
“Why won’t you just listen–”
Blackwood’s voice rose in anger. “The Dhavnaks have taken our parents’ lives, our city, my submarine and crew. They’re close to taking Belzen, they’ve got half of Mirrix, and now you want to give them the shrouding realm, too? And the afterlife?”
“It’s not about what I want, Mila,” said Andrew, a note of pleading in his voice. “It’s about what I’ve read and seen first-hand. You think I’m biased? Well, you’re afraid to admit it could be true! You’re just as bad. Worse.”
Several moments of tense silence passed. Andrew finally lowered his head and continued looking for the arphanium pipe. Klara Yana climbed painfully to her feet and started up the slope to help him look. Blackwood spoke as she passed. Her voice was tight with underlying fury.
“I’d rather be blind to the truth than betray my own country and family.”
Klara Yana froze. Andrew looked up from the snow, his eyes flashing. She didn’t think he was quite close enough to hear what his sister said, not as low as she’d spoken. But there was no way he could miss the tone she’d used. Klara Yana held out a hand toward Blackwood, her heart pounding.
“CSO, let’s not jump to conclusions. He’s a seventeen year-old kid–”
“Our crew is probably on that boat, Holland. The one filled with explosives that’s heading to Belzen as we speak. I’m trying to save our people, and all my Xeil-cursed brother can do is glorify our enemy’s folklore! I can’t help him. I can’t do this anymore! He is Cu Zanthus’s puppet and I just – cannot – get through to him!”
Klara Yana took in her commanding officer’s clenched hands and her short, quick breaths. Was there actually a charged sizzle to the air, or was that just Klara Yana’s imagination?
“Andrew!” she snapped. “Find that arphanium! Now!”
“But Mila won’t even–”
“No! Don’t argue. Don’t even talk. Just do it.” She walked as quickly as possible to Blackwood’s other side and took her shoulders, facing her away from Andrew. Blackwood glared at her.
“Holland, you have no idea what–”
“CSO. Please. Calm down. Just… just listen, OK?”
Blackwood stared at her, her breath still coming way too fast.
“You don’t want to kill him. Right?” said Klara Yana.
“No! Of course I don’t!”
“You killed Zurlig.”
“Zurlig was gonna kill you, Holland–”
“I get that. But what if the same thing happens to Andrew? Then will it matter whether he trusted the wrong guy, or made a dumb decision because of it? Will it even matter if you save your crew? You won’t be able to go back and change it! Ever!”
“Are you giving me a reprimand?” Blackwood said incredulously. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m just trying to help. Honest!”
Blackwood cursed and threw Klara Yana’s hands off her shoulders. She turned away, crossing her arms over her chest. For several moments, she stared toward Andrew, her chest heaving. Andrew glanced back once, quick and furtive, before jerking his attention to his search again.
“I thought you hated him,” Blackwood said under her breath. “After you attacked him in that basement and everything.”
“Wanted to punch him in the face, sure. Doesn’t mean I want the kid dead.”
“What about our crew? What if he was responsible?”
“Then he was responsible. Maybe he pays for it someday, maybe he doesn’t. But you don’t want him killed because you lost control.”
“But what if I can’t help it?”
Vo Hina’s mercy. What would Deckman Holland say to a question like that? He’d be dazzled by his opinion being asked in the first place. He’d say something like, I know you wouldn’t do that, CSO. I believe in you. But that wasn’t what Blackwood needed. She harbored a very real fear that she might hurt her brother. No matter how much she didn’t want to.
Klara Yana spoke softly. “Just step back from it. Remember that his thoughts – his fears and worries and desires – they’re just as real to him. No matter how stupid or wrong they are to you. Maybe you remember that often enough and you’ll get inside his head better. Make less of an enemy out of him over time.”
Blackwood turned back, eyebrows raised. “Xeil’s grace, Holland. That was right out of an analyst’s textbook or something.” She frowned. “Just how old are you, anyway?”
Klara Yana threw on a crooked grin, trying to slide back into the twenty-one cycle-old Blackwood knew. “Did a bit of acting when I was younger, CSO. That’s one of the first rules in understanding your character. It sometimes works in understanding another person, too.” It was barely even a lie. The Noncombatant Intelligence Corps had all kinds of tips for getting into their roles.
Blackwood studied Klara Yana’s face for several moments, most likely taking in the bruises there. “Don’t know what to make of you sometimes, Holland.”
Yeah, Blackwood was still suspicious, all right. But at least she’d gotten her temper under control. If not for that mark on her arm, I’d almost consider telling her the truth, thought Klara Yana pensively. But if she thinks Andrew didn’t do right by her, what in Vo Hina’s good grace would she do to me?
“I found it! I found it!” Andrew came running down the snowy hill then, holding up the arphanium pipe triumphantly. Klara Yana breathed a sigh of relief. Blackwood turned and held her hand out.
“Give it here,” she said.
Andrew glanced at Klara Yana, and waited for her slight nod before handing it over. Blackwood frowned at them both as she took it. She rolled up her sleeve and pressed the pipe to her mark. Nothing happened.
“Different powers,” she said finally. “Curious.”
Different gods, thought Klara Yana.
Blackwood handed the pipe to Klara Yana. “Holland, do you think you can shroud us directly onto the submarine?”
Klara Yana blinked. “But… but what do think you can do? Commandeer it? Sink it?”
“I don’t know yet. But I can’t let it reach Marldox. And if some of my crew are still on it, I can’t let them die.”
They weren’t. Lyanirus’s corporant had mentioned the Desert Crab’s crew being sent back to a Marine Internment Camp – probably the big one in Jasterus, near Lake Lassinder. But she couldn’t say that. Blackwood was suspicious enough as it was.
“Deckman Holland,” said Blackwood. “Consider it an order.”
Klara Yana took a d
eep breath. Lyanirus was still looking for Blackwood. Until he was dead, Blackwood might still end up in his grasp. And Klara Yana had vowed not to let that happen.
She pulled herself into a Belzene salute, fist to her chest. “Andrew too, ma’am?”
“I’m not letting Andrew out of my sight. Yes, he’s coming with us.”
“Understood, CSO.”
Chapter 22
ANDREW’S REUNION
Even bracing himself for the transition, Andrew had to throw out a hand for balance as they landed in a dark, stuffy room lit only by red lights along the ceiling. He steadied himself on a nylon bed jutting out from the wall, his eyes flicking over the unfamiliar space. A submarine. He’d never even seen one, much less been inside one. His nose twitched immediately at the smell, like too many bodies and not enough showers, like clothes left unwashed and sweaty sheets. He felt the press of its walls around him; maybe it was illusion from the emergency lighting, but the space was smaller than he’d pictured. With the beds out, two people wouldn’t even be able to pass side by side in the central corridor. Something in his chest loosened. The smell didn’t bother him in the least, and the feel of the close walls seemed like a barrier against the outside world. The soft hum of the motors was another layer of security. A small, dark, muffled space, like his own house, his own bed. No wonder Mila liked it here.
“By the goddess,” breathed Mila. “I didn’t know if that would work.”
“Me neither, CSO,” said Holland, sounding more than a little shaken herself. “It seems to help when I can picture a place.”
At the open doorway at the other end of the room, someone let out a yell. Mila cursed and started toward the opening, leaning heavily on the lowered bunks as she dragged her leg behind her. Shouting rose in Dhavnak, from more than one voice. “Intruders!”
“…missing prisoners from Kheppra Isle…”
“…radio the leuftkernel immediately!”
“CSO, let me!” Holland hissed. “I’m in uniform!” She halted her commanding officer and tried to squeeze by her.
“The uniform won’t fool them!” Mila snapped. “They’ll have heard by now what you did. Just secure the hatch! Hurry!”
Holland reached the doorway – the hatch – at the same moment a Dhavnak soldier appeared on the other side. He started to raise a pistol. Almost faster than Andrew could follow, Holland slammed her palm up into the man’s chin, snapping his head back, then grabbed the thick oval-shaped door at her right and swung it shut. She needed her whole body to heave its weight around. The man managed to fire off a shot, but the door was almost shut by then, and the bullet pinged off the edge of the thick steel. Holland slammed the door closed with a clunk and spun a wheel on the back side. It creaked as it locked tight. She looked back in the low red lighting, looking simultaneously startled and terrified. Muffled shouts and bangs were barely audible through the thick steel behind her.
“Holland,” said Mila. “That was… really good.”
“Thanks, CSO.”
“Here’s the plan,” said Mila. She kept her back to Andrew. Could have at least pretended to include me, he thought, rolling his eyes.
“First. Find out if there are any Belzenes on board, and if there are, get them off. Holland, you can do that with your arphanium. The Dhavnaks, too. The less in our way, the better. It’ll be dangerous, because they’ll realize what you’re doing right away and try to set a trap.”
“I can do it, CSO.”
“Second. I find out what went wrong with the self-destruct system. The Desert Crab’s already packed with Dhavnak explosives, but I’d need the detonator to set them off. No good. I have to fix our self-destruct and get rid of the boat long before it’s close enough to cause damage.”
Andrew sank down on one of the lower beds, arms wrapped around himself. Explosives? Soldiers shooting Mila, holding him hostage? I agreed to report where Mila went, not to assist in blowing up one of our own cities. How far does he expect me to go?
He looked up, licking his lips. Holland. He had to talk to her. If this was all part of Cu Zanthus’s plan, she’d know. Unless she lied, and she’s running from him. But she hadn’t confessed anything to Mila, and that struck Andrew as a sign she was still working from within. Maybe it had all been an act, from her own capture to the incredibly believable evidence of being beaten. Maybe Cu Zanthus had wanted Andrew alone with Mila, to test him.
I don’t hate you.
Mila’s words echoed through his skull, yet again. He ground his teeth. But only until the next time I make you mad, right, Mila? Her love was too fragile; even if he tried every moment of every day to be perfect, he’d fail. With Cu Zanthus, he didn’t have to be perfect. What does he want me to do?
“Andrew! Why are you sitting down?”
He looked up, heart pounding. “Just… just resting.”
“Well, get up! They will get through that hatch eventually, and I know for a fact they’ve called for backup. Holland, can you get Andrew and I down to the lower flat of the forward power room? I can check the connections on the self-destruct system there.”
“I’m not sure I can shroud somewhere I haven’t seen before, CSO,” said Holland.
“You used to sneak down there all the time when you were feeling overwhelmed, during your panic attacks,” said Mila.
Holland flushed, the perfect image of an embarrassed young soldier. “You’re right, CSO.”
“Good. Get us down there, then start getting the Dhavvies off the boat as fast as you can. Leave them in the shrouding realm, drop them in the ocean, I really don’t care. But whatever you do, be careful. If we lose you, Andrew and I are trapped here. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stand up, Andrew,” said Mila again.
Andrew pulled himself up, trying to catch Holland’s eye as she put her hands in the pockets of the long, belted Dhavnak coat and positioned herself between them. She didn’t so much as glance at him.
“You know I can only take care of one soldier at a time,” she told Mila. “Maybe two, at the most. So you’ll have to be prepared to hold off any in the compartment until I can clear it out.”
“Understood, deckman.”
“Maybe I can help,” said Andrew.
Both of them turned their gazes on him. Andrew shrugged.
“If I go along with Holland, I can help. Maybe make it easier to take care of two soldiers at a time.”
“No, because then he’d be grabbing three people at a time instead of two,” said Mila. “That makes no sense.”
“But–”
“You’re staying with me, Andrew, and that’s that. Holland. Now.”
Holland linked her elbows into both of their arms. Her chunk of arphanium pipe was clutched between her fingers at Andrew’s arm. Andrew got his mouth as close to her ear as he dared without making it obvious.
“What does he want?” he whispered.
Her eyes darted toward him, then away again. Abruptly, the boat disappeared. A flash of lightning lit up the sky. The wall of sound crashing into his eardrums could have been either the resulting thunder or the terrifyingly close volcano spewing lava and sparks hundreds of feet into the air. A dark cloud of smoke rushed toward them. Just beneath it, a giant fleshy creature was dead on the ground a stone’s throw away, body ripped open, blood and innards pouring out. Three hairy black creatures tore into it, matting their coats with blood. One of them looked back. It roared something, and both it and another one leapt from the carcass, running toward them so fast they seemed a blur. Andrew screamed, lurching back. Holland lost her grip on him. She lunged for him, snagging his coat.
“Don’t move!” she shrieked. Then, just as abruptly as they’d arrived, they were back on the submarine. Andrew stumbled, spilling down into a bank of pipes and knobs. Nausea rose up, fast and powerful, and he rolled over, retching. Nothing came up, but it left him weak and dizzy.
When he looked up, Mila had already gone from his side. He saw her a few steps away, th
rowing a punch into a Dhavnak soldier’s face. Andrew’s still-sore cheek twitched in sympathy. He saw Holland grab another soldier and vanish into thin air. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, using some metal black boxes off to his side. When he noticed the warning labels on the sides, he jerked his hand away. It reminded him that whether he chose to help Mila or not, this submarine would explode.
He stood and hurried down the slight ramp of treaded metal flooring to join Mila. The soldier she’d taken out was slumped unconscious against a cylindrical brass tank at the base of a ladder heading up. No one else was in the compartment. Mila looked around at the black boxes stacked against the walls under the jointed pipes.
“This was all arphanium in here before,” she said with a disgusted gesture. “They’ve ripped her apart.”
“Ripped who apart?”
“The Desert Crab. And now we’re gonna have to scuttle her. Xeil’s grace. After everything we’ve been through.” She turned on her heel and limped back the way they’d come.
Andrew followed, glancing nervously behind him. It was loud down here. The hallway was so narrow, he had to pull his shoulders in. They passed another ladder and squeezed into a space smaller yet, where the narrow pipes were orange instead of brass and a rhythmic hissing pumped out somewhere above them. A single galvanized light burned above, chasing away the shadows.
Mila pointed in front of her, down at a corner. “You can kneel down there.”
“Mila, I’m not gonna–”
“Please, Andrew. It’s the best out of the way spot, and I don’t want to trip over you.”
“Right.” He sighed and lowered himself to a squat where she’d indicated. The space felt comfortingly close around him. He watched as Mila dropped to one knee, hissing as she folded her leg beneath her. She pried a panel from the floor, then carefully pulled a tangle of wires from inside.
“Are you sure that auto-destruct, or whatever it is, is broken?” Andrew asked. “Maybe your captain just didn’t trigger it. I mean, your ship wasn’t shrouding at the time, was it?”
“It’s a boat, not a ship. And no, they wouldn’t have been captured while they were shrouding. The Dhavnaks would have taken them beforehand.”