by Patrick Lane
Scotty’s eyes softened when he saw that Nifty was moving around and he hurried straight for him. “You had me worried half to death, son.” He looked Nifty up and down to make sure he was alright. “Rule 784 strictly states…” he trailed off looking into Nifty’s eyes, relief written large on his face. “I don’t want to go into it just now, but the gist is—don’t touch artifacts if you don’t know what you’re doing!" Scotty spoke in a harsh tone that contrasted with his awkward fidgeting as he fought to mask his relief.
Toro interrupted their reunion with a discreet cough, preventing further lecturing from Scotty. “Nifty, this revered gentleman is Doctor Richamil. You are alive due, in no small part, to his efforts. And this,” he indicated the room with a sweeping gesture, “is one of his temporary, urm, very private labs, set up deep beneath the council’s citadel.”
Nifty barely came to the chin of the Monsourion doctor. He was about the same age as Scotty yet still had a lustrous mane of jet black hair flowing around his handsome face. It was held back by multi-lensed spectacles that rested on top of his head. The doctor moved methodically, hindered by a dreadful stoop. He approached Nifty and then dropped the spectacles to get a better look at his patient. Several minutes later, after a good deal of poking and prodding, he turned to Scotty and Toro.
“He seems to have recovered quite suitably. Shock-linking with a device with so many security protocols in place should have killed a person, not paired them. I will not bother to ask again whether or not he has a genetic profile specific to this wrist band as it’s self-evident that he does.” The doctor spoke with an imperious drone.
Nifty fought hard to muster a surprised expression for the doctor.
“Thank you doctor,” said Toro, “You’ll forgive us for the lack of protocol, young Niftmire, but what you have seen here is an unfortunate accident that others in the council may not appreciate. I trust you will understand our reasons for secrecy.
From what we have discovered so far, the Key is typically installed on a candidate in stages, over several days. There is be a secondary device that further facilitates this process, but unfortunately you were not in possession of one at the time of—” He paused looking for the right word. “Let’s just say inception.”
“To be honest, I really don’t remember much about what happened. A whole lot of pain, and then I woke up here.” Nifty shrugged, at a loss, looking at each man in turn. “I am in your debt, doctor. Thank you.” He held out his hand with a grateful smile and the doctor accepted it graciously.
As he took the proffered hand Nifty realized that the last digit on the doctor’s pinky finger was missing.
Strange, that should have been grown back in one of the Ranger infirmaries. He thought.
It was a silly detail to notice, but, considering the situation, and the grave faces, it triggered a warning in his brain that he’d learned long ago to pay attention to. He shook his head, trying to muster some clarity.
“What is going on here?”
Nifty twisted the man’s hand to look down at the abbreviated stump before stepping back to bring all three men into his line of sight. “Why am I not in the infirmary? I know of other Rangers who have shock-linked, and a cell in the basement of the Citadel is not where they end up. And who is this man, really?”
Scotty and Toro exchanged knowing glances, but neither answered.
“Doctor Richamel, if you wouldn’t mind?” Toro sighed, gesturing for the doctor to leave the room. ”I need to talk to these two in private.”
The doctor bowed and exited without question. Nifty watched him leave, puzzled.
“Good man to have on your side when caught in a bind,” Toro noted, as the doctor left the room. “His special skills have made him an invaluable member of my network, and I’ve come to trust him implicitly. As a matter of pride he wears his ailments and injuries in plain sight, reminding us all of our mortality, letting his body fail where it may, he claims, without the benefit of too much tampering. It’s a philosophy that many in my team have come to find peace with.” The door clicked shut. “Yet I don’t see the need to burden him with any more secrets than absolutely necessary.”
Scotty looked to Nifty, then across to Toro, who simply nodded. “You’re in danger, son,” Scotty said with deadly seriousness. He paused to let his words sink in. “If anyone finds out you’re wearing that Key, you’re as good as dead.”
“Yes, I know,” Nifty answered, trying to keep his voice calm.
“Other teams have been experiencing similar incidents as you two at the Gears and Ragnatex. And someone has begun setting off a series of level five seismic events at different points across the globe, forcing us to dispatch more teams to investigate. The Council has come close to terminating the search for the Key and the missing Rangers altogether, turning this into a military operation.”
“Someone doesn’t want us to find this Key,” Toro clarified. “And if it’s discovered that, for all intents and purposes, you are the Key, your life will not count for a whip wasp’s whisker to whomever is looking for it.”
Nifty grunted nervously, fighting to come up with a plan that wouldn’t leave him at the mercy of these two men. He knew that they had already conspired to do what they thought was best for him, just like he knew whatever it was he wouldn’t be thrilled with it. “I don’t understand. How many people actually know what the Key looks like? We didn’t even know what we were looking for when we were commissioned to find it,” Nifty protested, trying to gain time.
With a heavy sigh, Scotty lowered himself on the cot and set the books to his side. He clasped his hands nervously as he spoke. “Look, son, I was hoping for you to recover somewhat before we discussed the details. Can you give us some time to work a few things out before we brief you on the situation?”
“What?” Nifty blurted. “Not a minute ago, you said that my life was in grave danger. Now you expect me to sit idly by while—” he gestured towards both men, “—you two sort out the details?” Nifty exhaled heavily. He regarded the Key on his wrist. “Whatever it is you’re not telling me, I need to hear it right now!”
Smoothing down his thick, white mustache, Scotty glared at Nifty, annoyed with his impatience. “The portable Alexandria cubes are gone.”
“What has that got to do with me?” Nifty’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ”Can’t we just borrow some from another Helix until we clear things up?”
“No, when Scotty says gone he means all of them, from every Helix in the alliance,” Toro clarified.
“When? How?” Nifty's eyes darted back and forth between the two men. He shook his head in denial. “Well, the Ranger Corp will just have to track them down.”
“They’ve put an alert out,” Scotty told him. “Not a full-scale alert—we don’t want to cause a panic. More like an imperative that we find the cubes.” He sighed, trying not to look defeated.
“Surely we can stop them from getting too far. That’s a lot of cubes to be keeping secret. Can’t the Council just requisition new ones?” Nifty already knew the answer—they couldn’t. He also understood the connection between himself and the cubes.
“You don’t understand, son,” Toro answered. “The engineers, and all the portable Alexandria cubes, were taken from all the Helix vales in this sector two days ago and we have unverified reports that this may have happened all around the world. These greenback bastards must be incredibly well organized. They deployed their forces at each Helix within minutes of each other.” Toro looked solemn. “Someone knew we were searching for the Key, and they’re afraid we may have found it, or they at least they suspect we know where it is.” He ground his cane into the floor angrily. “There is only one reason they would do something like this.”
The room descended into silence as the three men considered the ramifications of that statement. None of them wanted to say out loud what they all knew.
“In times gone by, three things would be needed to enter a machine room. A Key, an Alexandria cube, and a Topsid
er engineer. Now we don’t have one of the three things. Whoever it is, doesn’t want us in the machine rooms,” Nifty sighed. “But why not?”
Scotty shook his head, perplexed. “That, we don’t know. The machine rooms control everything in the Bastion Helixes. All our diplomats insist that our allies remain satisfied with our trade agreements and are as concerned as our Council about the loss of their engineers.
“The Vladbrullion and the Sukairacian alliances may have aligned themselves with the greenbacks. Both are capable of such a complex operation, but it is doubtful that either would risk war with such an overt attack.”
Toro interrupted, “That leaves the Hydrohelixes, which could prove to be extremely bad. We still haven’t resolved over a dozen mining disputes with them, and when they actually agree to meet our diplomats, talks don’t go well.
The dreadnaught and greenbacks you say you encountered were at complete odds with what we know of Hydrohelix deployment strategies. If they’d wanted us caught, they’d have sent more than a single dreadnaught. They prefer to use a sledgehammer when a tackhammer would do.” He shrugged and tugged on his beard.
“Either way lad, it hardly matters,” Scotty added. “If they can track the culprits it will become a Council matter and we’ll be removed from their decision-making process completely. Councilor Toro and I both agree that you need to be set on task before that decision is made.”
“You know far too much already after this fool move of yours,” Toro grumbled, his displeasure finally coming to the fore.
“The problem is,” Scotty interjected, “we may have a spy in our midst, possibly even sitting on the Council.”
Toro glared at his long-time friend for this slip, but Scotty just shook his head, unconcerned. He gestured towards Nifty. “He’s wearing a death sentence on his wrist if anyone finds out. The time for secrecy is over; tell him our plans, or I will.”
The arms master began to pace nervously about the room, tapping his cane against the floor at every turn. “As it stands right now, there are several things we need to do first. We need to get you out of the Helix as quickly as possible; I already have one of the distant crust settlements in mind. Next, we need a contingency plan, in case the cubes can’t be found in a timely manner.
Toro ground his cane into the floor again and then stamped it twice before continuing. “Our principal concern must be retrieving the Alexandria cubes. As you may know, they are made from one of the rarest Flux metals, r722—we could be facing years of mining and refinement before we can even begin to manufacture enough.”
“I’m not going into hiding,” Nifty objected, puffing out his chest. “I’m a Rocktower Ranger, blaze it all. I’ll not be simpering in some crust-land village while the world falls apart around me. Besides, the Jax virus is all but gone, you said so yourself.”
“The decision has already been made,” Toro countered, staring the younger man down. “And you can dispense with the theatrics. The world is not falling apart. The majority of the council still feel the virus is a threat, despite evidence brought forth that shows otherwise. They will not move forward until the cubes are found.”
“What do you mean, ‘the decision has already been made’? Made by whom?” Nifty demanded. “You? I’ll need to confirm that with Ranger headquarters before I’ll go along with it.”
“I understand your reluctance, Nifty,” Toro began. “You’ve been an integral part of our Ranger force for many years and we want to ensure you’ll be with us for many years to come. But we simply cannot risk one of our best Rangers, especially the bearer of such a critical device.” He nodded towards the Key.
Toro’s speech, probably designed to calm Nifty and convince him to go into hiding, didn’t quite have the desired effect. Nifty knew the senior Ranger was right, but every fiber of his being was struggling with the idea of being forced out of action. “I understand, sir,” he countered resolutely, “but you also have to understand that I’ll not be set aside like this. You’ll have to come up with a better plan.”
“And have you wandering about on your own? Not a good idea, lad,” Toro countered. “I would sooner have you incarcerated than let that happen.”
Nifty balked at that. His head had cleared enough to feel a tiny, overlooked fact slide into place from his meeting with Ink. What had she said? ‘One of the Rings agents will report for service very soon upon your arrival at Rocktower’. What did that mean?”
Report for service.
It was time to gamble, even though it meant breaching the trust he had with Toro. He looked across to Scotty who had remained suspiciously silent for most of the discussion but all he received was a nod of agreement with Toro’s threat.
“No you won’t,” Nifty said, in a measured tone, meeting Toro’s eye. “This isn’t going to go quite how you planned. Please answer my next question carefully. If you are a member of Rion’s Ring and I am a genetic descendent of Rion Jax, am I correct in assuming that you are in my service as a subordinate?”
“What?” Scotty blurted, rounding on Toro.
Toro’s head dropped. His thick fingers reached up to massage his furrowed brow. He took his time to answer. “What did Ink tell you?”
Nifty almost instinctively answered. Years of Ranger service had bred into him the idea that he should always answer a superior. He buckled down harder, ignoring his instincts. His heart pounded as a chill of sweat blossomed across his body, sensing he was finally on the cusp of a win.
“That wasn’t an answer to my question,” Nifty told him.
Toro straightened and stood to attention. He clasped both hands on his cane, bowed, and then spoke, “Toro Jetstone, Third Maeister, Rion’s Ring reporting for service, descendent of Jax.”
“He’s a Jax?” Scotty spat. He moved closer to confront Toro. “Impossible. Who do you think you are? Dragging the lad into your Rion’s Ring rubbish.”
Toro remained motionless.
“Scotty, stop,” Nifty said, even as the relief flooded across him. “He’s right. I am a Jax.” As he spoke the words aloud for the first time the feeling of guilt sluiced away.
Scotty wheeled on Nifty, “He’s not right. I don’t know what kind of nonsense he’s been filling your head with but rest assured, you are not a Jax.”
Nifty paused, considering the older Ranger for a moment. He’d come to look upon the man as a second father over the years and there was no one he trusted more. If things were to get as bad as it seemed he would need all the help he could get. And not just the kind of help that Rions Ring would provide, but help from someone who would have his back no matter what.
“I met Rion Jax’s final creation, the fluxform named Ink, in the Gears of Terraport when we were trapped by the branders. Without her intersession, one of her kind, a creature named Quage, would have finished us off with his machines.” Nifty met his friend and partner’s stare. “I know that you must have reviewed my files before you took me on as a partner. Didn’t you find it strange that I’d been accepted into the Ranger Corps when so many more qualified applicants didn’t? I should, by rights, be manning a stone mason’s rig like my father. My whole life has been a lie.”
Scotty continued to stare at Nifty, his scowl softening as he no doubt tied any bothersome facts together that he’d noticed about Nifty’s file and his ascension through the Ranger ranks.
“It can’t be true, lad, there has to be a mistake.”
“Nifty moved to the top of the Brawler Bash rankings with scarcely six months of hard training, Scotty, and we can all see that he is holding back,” Toro said. “That’s not something that someone without elite gene splicing can accomplish. Of all the Jax candidates he is the most physically gifted. He will be equal to the legendary Stillness if his training continues at its current pace.”
“So the body found in the Gears was another Jax, a failed Jax?” Scotty said, his face hardening once more as he turned on Toro. “How many Jax are there? Was this meddling done at the whim of Rion’s Ring? Are you re
sponsible for ruining the lad’s life, forcing him to live down the reputation as the descendant of the greatest mass murderer of all time?”
Nifty was still and silent. He was shocked. Was that why fighting came so easily to him? Gene splicing? Rion Jax was a Flux engineer, not a fighter.
What in slaggstone am I?
Toro wasn’t to be cowed. “Do you believe these greenbacks are just the whim of some disgruntled warlord? One of the other Helixes lashing out for some trade dispute gone wrong? Even you aren’t that foolish, Scotty. I can see by the look on your face you know something far bigger is in play here, something we can’t simply smash at with a power pick or shatter bat. We can ill afford to—”
“Toro stop,” Nifty commanded. This was becoming too much, spiraling out of control. “Scotty, you’ll have to take my word for it: I was shown evidence of my heritage that leaves very little reason for doubt. I know you want to fight it but it’s true. We’re running out of time and we can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves. We need to plan, we need to make sure we’re ready.”