by J D Huffman
Zotz went first, taking the rungs one at a time. William followed suit. He didn’t inquire as to how far it was—he imagined any launch bay would be quite far down, if only to keep the ships away from living areas in the event an engine blew up or something. The station continued to rock and shudder every now and then, evidence of the Order attack, but William wondered how long his mother’s fleet would keep up the pretense. He considered Team Alpha, as well, and whether they were still alive—and where they were, if so. There was a chance he might run into them, after all, and that could make the final encounter with Cylence even more clear-cut, he hoped.
Floor after floor passed until Zotz, at last, hopped off of the wall-mounted rungs and exited the enclosed shaft. This level was a lot busier: Totality rushed back and forth, some armed, some not. Based on their uniforms and demeanor, William suspected most of them weren’t soldiers but staff of various sorts—people who weren’t here to fight, but didn’t want to die today.
No one took much notice of them, and William spotted several other people dressed in garb that made them as slaves—either costumes like Zotz’s, or utilitarian strips of fabric that fit poorly, not remotely worthy of clothing that came close to a proper fit. Ships of different shapes and sizes filled the cavernous bay. Most were stationary, but a few were drifting in one direction or another, either docking for resupply or heading down toward what William assumed was the exit port, given that the floor ended some distance ahead of them and was marked by a waist-height wall. His stomach quivered at the thought of what might happen if he inadvertently fell over that fence—was there anything down below to catch errant people? What if maintenance workers fell? Did they just pass through whatever barrier was at the bottom and float right into space, consigned to a death by decompression? Before his mind got too busy with such morbid scenarios, he put his eyes on Zotz’s back and focused on following him. “Which of these ships is it?”
“I’m looking,” the Sage snapped, impatient. His eyes scanning the fleet that inhabited the launch bay, he soon came to his quarry, and pointed. “That one.”
It was clear on the other side, all the way up near the top. William had a poor sense of scale but thought it might be a little smaller than the cargo ship he’d been living in. He squinted at the thing, and tried to move his eyes over the maze of ladders and catwalks that led from here to there. It made him a little dizzy.
“Oh, come on,” he groused. “Really?”
As they made the arduous climb, William tried to distract himself by appreciating the ships that hung imposingly within the vast bay. He realized this was his first opportunity to see Totality warships in any detail, rather than as scanner images or as brief flashes of overhead menace. He had to admit the Totality had invented for themselves a fearsome aesthetic. Their vessels were elongated, with sharp, curved protrusions serving as weapon hardpoints, jagged edges placed as if to slice through enemy craft—but of course, William knew that was physically impossible. What the Totality may have lacked in technological capability, they made up for in bulk. Each craft that he could clearly identify as a warship was practically covered with weaponry, as if one would have to destroy the whole ship in order to disable its offensive systems. He didn’t know if that was true, but he imagined the psychological factor of thinking it might be true was useful enough. He wondered if the Totality flew these over slave camps, or perhaps paraded them near Order territory to inspire fear. The thought occurred to him that the Totality might well employ them as aerial monsters to terrify slaves who may not be educated enough to realize their manufactured origin. If that’s just what I can think up while I’m climbing, I don’t even want to know what the Totality really do with these things. The conclusion was inescapable, however, that had their cargo ship ever encountered any real resistance from Totality war machines, they’d not have stood a chance. At last, he was grateful for their good fortune.
Ascending the wobbling, suspended staircases and treacherous catwalks—a quick loss of balance might send one tumbling over—several Totality soldiers squeezed past William and Zotz. They virtually never made eye contact. William was amazed they didn’t seem to notice. You’d think they would see I’m not actually wearing one of their uniforms. It’s similar, but not identical. Zotz and I don’t exactly look like we belong here. Then again, they weren’t attacking anything or anyone, and it was likely they had greater concerns. When William surveyed the bay again, he noticed it looked emptier. Ships were indeed leaving as quickly as they could, though their particular target hadn’t moved. That, he found curious, as well.
When they finally reached it and stepped inside through an open hatch, Hyacinth popped out of her hiding spot along the interior of Zotz’s collar. She zipped around the room as if to give it a quick scout, then returned. “Looks clear so far,” she reported.
“Thanks,” William said quietly.
“This way,” Zotz motioned, leading them around the bend and past a few doors. William assumed the old man knew where he was taking them.
Before they could get there, however, an obstacle appeared in their way. Or, if not an obstacle, someone William didn’t expect to see here.
“Fred?”
The tall, gray-skinned figure nodded.
“You’re supposed to be on the ship,” William scolded. “Who’s in charge?”
“That is not the most important issue right now,” the troll countered, stepping side. “I am here to help you.”
“Help this!” Hyacinth shouted, and with a level of force William never would have expected from her, slammed him straight back into the wall at the end of the corridor. The physics involved told William plenty about the faerie’s capabilities. She could probably tear a hole in this ship if she wanted to. But why is she going after Fred?!
Zotz and William both moved to stop her. “Hyacinth!” Zotz uttered, his voice a plea. “We don’t have time for this!”
She was still hovering over the dazed Fred, who was slumped against the wall, rubbing his head. She zipped back onto Zotz’s shoulder. “You’re right. This sack of shit’s gonna live forever. I’ll deal with him later.” Then, to Fred: “Don’t you go anywhere. We have issues to resolve.”
Zotz and Hyacinth went on by, with William following. He helped the troll stand up, and inquired quietly: “What the fuck was that about?”
“An old and long story, and some well-deserved vengeance, I am afraid.”
William just shook his head. “You people and your weird secrets. Come on, let’s get Cylence. That’s some revenge that’ll make us all feel better.”
Soon, they entered the largest room they’d yet encountered. Consoles lined the walls and a large device commandeered the center of the room. Beams of light poked out of it at seemingly random points and intervals. William didn’t know what it was, only that it must be important. Zotz wasted no time confirming that. “This is the ‘portable’ barrier weakener. It’s already been powered up though not yet activated.”
“How long can it run?” William wondered.
“On this ship’s power reserves? Several minutes at full strength. Not enough to pose a major threat, but the technology is the issue. Cylence can’t be allowed to escape with it.”
“Then let’s smash the fucking thing,” William blurted impatiently, moving for the nearest large, blunt object he could wield against it.
Zotz grabbed his arm to stop him. “Don’t be a fool. As I said, it’s powered up. That energy has to go somewhere. If you smash it now, the energy will escape into you, and I don’t much want to see your organs decorating this room, or my clothes.”
“I’m touched by your concern,” William smirked. “What can we do, then?”
“Die,” a new voice intruded. Before William even had a chance to look for the source, a spray of blood crossed his face, the hand clutching his arm briefly tightened, then released, and something heavy landed on his foot before rollin
g away. The high-pitched scream of a faerie rang out. William’s confusion lasted a few seconds before dissolving into the reality: Zotz’s head had been severed, and he watched as the old man’s body collapsed backward, crashing loudly into one of the control panels behind them. His own feet shuffled in the reverse, recoiling from the wiry beard hair he felt tickling his legs, through his clothes.
He could feel nothing else in that moment but stunned horror. He’d only just been reunited with the Sage. He expected their association would continue, one way or another. There was so much that had yet to be explained, so much Zotz needed to answer for, and now it would never happen.
William hadn’t begun to address the obvious: who’d delivered the killing blow.
He saw a sneering, balding man in skin-tight garments, flourished by a flowing, purple robe, brandishing a sword that gleamed with reflected light from the ceiling, and glistened with traces of Zotz’s blood. William thought he looked absurd, but the man had an air about him that made William fearful. This wasn’t some ordinary Totality soldier. This was…
“Cylence,” Fred said, like a curse. “You are a vile, hateful creature. You deserve death.”
“So do you, ancient troll, but some of us never get what we have coming, eh?” He twirled the sword in a few circles, amusing himself, then turned to William. “The old man was your friend, wasn’t he? I can see it all over your face. His blood, I mean,” he chuckled. “You have no idea how shocked you look right now. I wish I could preserve it. It would make an excellent memento of my first encounter with the Earthblade.”
The word took William out of his fugue. “Earthblade?”
“That’s what the Chronicle calls you, eventually. The blade that will split the Earth in two. That sorts the living from the dead, the ignorant from the enlightened, the docile from the active, the good from the evil, the powerful from the desperate. Our fates often dovetail in ways we can’t anticipate. For my part, I like to do as much anticipating as possible. And at this moment, I anticipate you and I are going to have a little fun.”
Hyacinth hovered right in front of William’s face. Her voice was desperate. “You’ve gotta get out of here. He’ll kill you. You can’t fight him. You have to go!”
Instead, William remembered the sidearm Andrew gave him. He began to raise it, but Cylence wasn’t having that. “Ah-ah-ah!” the killer scolded. “That’s not a fair fight. Guns vs. swords? Not sporting.” Cylence reached around to his back and drew another blade, identical to the one he’d used to kill Zotz. “Here. Drop the pistol and take this. I promise, if you try to shoot, I’ll only deflect the bolt right into your own forehead. Or perhaps obliterate little Hyacinth with it. I haven’t decided. Fight fair or not at all, Earthblade. Make your choice.”
Is this guy serious? And some “chance” he gave Zotz, he thought angrily. After wiping Zotz’s blood from his face onto his sleeve, he let the pistol hit the floor and warily approached Cylence, who tossed over the blade before William got too close. He caught it by the hilt and, not knowing the first thing about sword fighting, angled it to protect his face and upper body in case Cylence struck.
“I hope you’ll make this an interesting spar,” Cylence goaded. “I get so tired of practicing with Martan all the time. I do believe he lets me win. Oh, but don’t worry about your inexperience. You’d be surprised what a little survival instinct can do!”
William wanted to scream at him to shut up. He wanted to make him shut up. He took a swing at the repulsive creature standing before him. Cylence deflected it with the clang of his own blade. “Pathetic. I saw that coming a light year away. The essence of swordplay is deception, William! I’ve waited a long time for you to come to me. Make it worth my while. Lie to me. Lie to me with your body and your sword. Make me believe it!” He delivered a thrust toward William, who managed to catch it and spin out of the way. William could hardly believe he’d pulled that off spontaneously, but he wasn’t going to waste time being upset about it.
Instead, he turned to Fred and Hyacinth. “Get that machine offline! You heard what Zotz said! Cylence can’t have it! Or you could help me kill this asshole!”
“Well, I’m already leaving with the Tunneler,” Cylence pointed out. “We’re on our way out of the Dominix now. Going to rendezvous with some friends from the Hegemony. The Order can have this dump. I’ll make their lives as difficult as possible before I go. I suppose you won’t get to see much of that,” he taunted William, striking again.
William parried and forced him back. “Hurry up over there!” he yelled before clumsily sending another deflected blow at Cylence. He stared fiercely at Cylence. “If you kill me now, I can’t become this ‘Earthblade’ you speak of, can I?”
Cylence shrugged, aiming his sword threateningly toward William. “The course of time is a curious thing. Perhaps you must die now so that you might live later. I don’t make the rules, after all. I only read the rules others have written.”
As the two sparred, William developed the impression that the Totality leader was merely toying with him, which only elevated his anger. He listened to Fred and Hyacinth, whom he hoped were actually doing something about the device.
“The energy has to go somewhere,” Fred said, echoing Zotz.
“But that’s a ship,” Hyacinth pointed out.
“Indeed. And what once occurred by accident, will now be done by choice.”
William had no idea what that meant, nor did he have time to look with Cylence offering a swipe at his head.
“You can’t do that!” Hyacinth protested, though William didn’t immediately know if it was to Fred or Cylence.
“I must!” Fred responded, giving William his answer.
What are they fighting about? Don’t they know I’m trying to buy them time here! Just shut the stupid thing down!
William felt himself running out of energy. In truth, he’d been running on will alone for some time. His body simply wasn’t in the shape it used to be, and while he felt himself slowing down, Cylence seemed nowhere near any point of diminishing energy. It was all William could do to deflect and dodge, and forget about offensive maneuvers.
The critical moment came when William miscalculated an evasion and lost his footing. Cylence attempted to take advantage of the moment of weakness, though only his fist connected with William, rather than sword. William reeled back against a console, and then there was a flash from the direction of Hyacinth and Fred, still toying with the Tunneler.
Hyacinth screamed again, this time in pain rather than shock, Fred mumbled something William couldn’t hear, and then he felt an odd sensation in his chest, like a pinch, before realizing Cylence had driven his sword right through it. William blinked, then smiled, finding the warm sensation of blood coming out of his chest somehow soothing. He heard Cylence laugh only for a moment, before some kind of scuffle ensued with Fred and possibly the faerie. “That was rather a disappointment,” Cylence sighed. “Perhaps our next encounter will be more engaging. If we have one. I must say, I’ll be sad if not.”
Unable to respond, William’s face stung as he smacked it on the floor, everything around him receding from perception. It was like drifting off to sleep, and if William was sure of anything, it was that he really needed a good rest.
Chapter 44
Things Unwritten
Nothing. She found nothing. With Andrew’s help, Sasha tore through Cylence’s personal chambers. The bodies of several guards they’d cut down to get inside remained splayed out just beyond the entrance. No one else ever appeared to challenge them—in fact, the Dominix grew quieter and quieter with time, apart from the occasional rattling the Order attack gave it. Sasha didn’t think that was doing any real damage. If it were, the entire facility should have long since disintegrated under the onslaught.
That meant the Order were waiting for something else. A signal from Zotz? Or us? By “us,” she only meant And
rew, since she couldn’t imagine anyone among the Order fleet even knew who she was except in some vague hypothetical sense, as “the rebel leader.” Even that title no longer seemed to fit, given her incarceration by Cylence and lack of communication with the people she supposedly led. The rebellion had become William’s, or Fred’s, or even Janus’. But it was no longer hers, and certainly not now, with the Dominix running on emergency power, Totality fleeing, and an Order fleet just outside. So much had changed in so short a time, and all she wanted was that damn book.
Cylence taunted her with it, teasing knowledge of things to come. She wanted to know them, too. The idea of foreknowledge never engaged her as anything more than an idle fantasy. Even if the ability to move through time existed, to live as a slave was to accept that such things might as well be possible in another universe, for all the plausibility they had in her own life. But Cylence had stood there with a book that looked just like her Chronicle, only very aged, with words written inside that matched her own unique script—a rendition of the tongue most Totality slaves spoke, in the script of her homeworld which she remembered, at least in fragments, from childhood. What she could not distinctly recall, she invented. Those letters, those accents, those flourishes belonged to no one but her. She had to have them—she had to have that gift from her future self, if that was the way of it.
But it wasn’t here. Every book in Cylence’s chambers had now reached the floor, and none of them were the one she wanted. Desk drawers were pulled out and emptied, ornate furniture de-cushioned, flipped over, turned inside-out, just in case he’d hidden it somewhere because he suspected she would come searching for it.
Even his bed got this treatment, and in that Sasha found yet another reason to resent him. The bed was large and canopied, more sizable and elegant and comfortable than anything she’d ever encountered. She imagined it could sleep twenty people or more, with enough pillows to stack from floor to ceiling. The surface rolled gently under pressure, and she briefly considered climbing into it, falling asleep, and forgetting about all this. She knew she needed rest. The cage and her captors never let her obtain a good, comfortable night’s sleep. Her back hurt constantly from the hunching and squatting, and she had to believe it would feel amazing to throw herself upon this strangely tangible cloud, close her eyes, and let the pain and misery drain from her body.