by Liam Clay
“Not the most original putdown - but then, we’re soldiers, aren’t we?” She tosses a gold coin into the air and catches it again. “I'd say the next round is on me, but I think I'll just save my money. Salut!”
And then the Queenfisher leaves as quickly as she came. I slip away from the rower while he's distracted, and depart through a back door. The terrain behind the bar remains flat for a few meters, and then slopes sharply down to the Burnflow. We scramble under a partially demolished palisade and into a foxhole that should be invisible from above. Amy sweeps away the clutter of war, and we sit down to discuss our next move.
“So, what did we learn?” Peace asks me.
“That men are pigs, and that the Architect has been killed twice before. It didn't do any good, because she just resurrected herself and returned here. But if someone else got to her, then we can too.”
“So you want us to infiltrate the bitch's island and take her out assassin style? I like it.”
“Of course you do. But it won't be easy. We don't have our holo-tech here, and she must have increased security after the last two times.”
Peace turns to Amy. “You've been pretty quiet. Got anything to add?”
“Pardon?” The girl says, and the sniper laughs.
“Looks like this one just got blindsided by her hormones. I asked what you think we should do now.”
Amy shakes herself. “What do I think? I think we need to find ourselves a proper boat.”
“Amen to that. Rafts are for losers.”
.
Under the right circumstances, I would imagine that theft can be fun. Faceless corporations have more stuff than they will ever need, and outsmarting their security measures must be an empowering experience. Unfortunately, our current heist doesn't qualify.
The rebels have a death rite that involves suspending a carven canoe over the mass grave of a deceased boat team. The funeral plain used for this purpose is huge; there must be thousands of rebel Kogis lost in limbo, with more joining them every day.
“This is such an asshole move.” I say as we lift one of the vessels from its perch. “For all we know, these guys could be watching everything we do from stasis.”
Peace isn't deterred. “If this thing helps us get rid of the Architect, they won't be able to say shit. Who knows, maybe they'll even come back to life and throw us a thank you party.”
“Assuming we can get rid of her. I can just picture it: I run up and take the Architect by the hand, nothing happens, and she lops my head off while her soldiers laugh. This Colonizer guy had better be the real deal.”
“We're here, though.” Amy says. “And if he got us in, hopefully he can pull her out.”
“Or maybe her own firewalls will cook her alive in transit.” Peace says hopefully.
“We have to get back out too, remember.”
“You worry too much.”
They stop bickering long enough to lug our grave-robbed canoe down to the water. We are far from the Burnflow here, at the extreme northern end of the rebel island. Our plan is to row around the heated delta created by its outflow, travel to the far side of the Architect’s isle, and try to find a way ashore. The rest will have to happen organically.
It’s dusk. Gulls float on the swell, heads tucked into their wings. Within minutes of setting out, my arms are cramping and my back is sore. Is this what the non-augmented have to deal with every day? And a more urgent question: can I learn to fight without my usual advantages? Only time will tell.
The sky is overcast, but the moon makes cameos through the clouds, lighting the northern limb of the enemy island. It is rockier than its sibling, and steeper as well in this area. Sandstone cliffs loom over us, eaten away at the base by the waves. Our tiny craft was never meant to taste salt at all. But the water stays out long enough for us to locate a small cove. It narrows into a wash of black sand fronting a defile filled with loose rock. Beaching the canoe, we follow it into the meat and bones of the cliff.
The defile brings us to a windswept promontory. A single withered tree has driven roots into the stony soil here, refusing to die. There are no other signs of life. If this was a game like the Colonizer's adaptability test, there would be ominous music playing to ratchet up the tension. We head inland. And now, the first houses start to appear. They are crude and ugly things, though - just like the ones on Balthazar's side.
At Peace's suggestion, I shimmy up a tree to see what can be seen. The main town lies to the east of us, crammed into a shallow valley that opens out onto the Burnflow. And if I was a bloodthirsty dictator, I would live in the fortified compound at its center. Resuming my place on the ground, I relate what I've seen.
“So we're just going to march straight in there, are we?” Peace says.
“What else can we do? It won't stay dark forever, and who knows how long it will take to find this woman.”
“Would you two stop going through the motions?” Amy snaps. “We all know what we have to do, so let's just fucking do it already.”
Discovering a road that leads to the town center, we shadow its path. Shantytowns hug the thoroughfare for the length of its route. We circle around them whenever we can, but sometimes the terrain forces us through. We see no people, though. Their absence should come as a relief, but somehow it's just the opposite. Who are these phantoms that have betrayed their own people in return for extended life? Is the survival habit really so hard to shake? But existential dread beats getting stabbed every time, and we make it to town unscathed.
Now the game turns to the rooftops. We navigate a puzzle of rough-hewn crossbeams, careful not to step through the palm frond roofing between. The houses are so cramped that jumping from one to the next is easy. This ploy gets us to within sight of our destination, and my confidence rises. All we have to do is touch her.
The compound is a two-story structure built on stilts, surrounded by a wall of sharpened stakes. An open expanse of sand surrounds it. Descending from the rooftops, we wait for a cloud bank to obscure the moon. And when it does, we make a run for it. This body isn't as fast as my true one, but the wind whips my hair in a pleasing way, and I feel strong and powerful and free. Then I hear it: a tightly wound thrumming sound. The arrow buries itself in my rib cage, and I fall forward. My face hits the ground and I lie still, inhaling sand with every bloody breath. My right eye is full of grit; I can't see out of it.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
With my working eye I see Peace go down, shot through the back from behind. Somewhere beyond my range of vision, Amy cries out - a half formed, abortive sound. I can feel my pulse around the arrow shaft. And presently there are footsteps, coming this way. They reach my side and stop. A booted toe flips me over, and a woman's face appears above me. She is not Kogi. Her skin is white bordering on translucent, hair a wispy gray. Crow’s feet run like rivers from her eyes.
“If this was the Real I could nullify you now.” She says. “The pain would remain, but the fear that you feel would be gone. But here, there is nothing to be done.”
Her voice is like an empty attic, stripped of anything that might reveal the identity of the house's owner. Then she turns her head, and I see that an L-shaped scar travels back from her left ear and up her skull. It is a surgical incision, clinical and clean.
“Maybe now the Queenfisher will stop sending assassins here.” She continues. “I let her kill me twice just to prove that I cannot die, but she has been slow to learn.” The woman leans over to get a closer look at me. “Wait. I never designed you.”
I reach for the Architect's hand, but she is already raising a stone maul.
“Necessity.” She says, and her arm swings down.
.
I'm nowhere. A formless, colorless nothing. Even the pooled link had more substance to it.
“Well, that was disappointing.”
“Who's there?” Peace says from the ether.
“Your benefactor. I managed to save you from the Architect's clutches. But be warned, I do not h
ave the resources or the inclination to do it a second time. So if you die again, into limbo you will go. And stay.”
And now I have eyes to blink. And a world for them to see. The New World, to be exact, in its many shades of yellow, blue and green. We’re standing on the funeral plain beside the mass grave we stole the canoe from. Peace kicks listlessly at the sand.
“Ah, hell. She must have known we were coming.”
“Probably.” I say. “It's not like we were being super discreet or anything.”
The sniper turns to Amy. “What now, oh wisest of leaders?”
The girl considers. “We are the only ones who can get rid of the Architect. But if we die again, it's over. So we need to protect ourselves, and only go after her when she's vulnerable.”
“Is she ever going to be vulnerable, though?”
“Only if somebody makes her that way. It's time to go talk to the Queenfisher.”
This time, there is no messing around. We walk straight up main street and into the pavilion Balthazar is using as a headquarters. Tasseled cushions surround low tables with jugs of bottomless rum on top of them. Brightly dyed curtains hang limp in the torpid heat of midday. The Queenfisher is poring over a map that has been carved into a table. Her guards step into our path, but we have already come to a stop.
“Balthazar!” Amy calls out. “We have information for you.”
The rebel leader doesn't reply right away. Picking up a golden letter opener, she lets her gaze rove over the girl in the woman's body. “Is that so? Well come closer then, and fill me in.”
We move deeper into the tent. The air smells of incense and cinnamon here. The Queenfisher motions us toward a spread of cushions, and we sit.
“I saw you in a bar yesterday.” She says to Amy. “You didn't cheer with the others.”
“You haven't given me a reason to yet.”
“You're just like everyone else, then. So much expectation, so little compassion.”
“I'm not like the others.”
“Prove it.”
“I'm not even Kogi. We are bounty hunters, sent by Worldpool to remove the Architect.”
“Oh, ho! She has claws after all. But I would have heard if my adversary had met her timely end. Is it possible that your mission isn't going well?”
“No, it’s not. Which is why we've come to you.”
“Now this I have to hear. What wild idea do you have for me? I swear I'll go sober for a month if it's one I haven't heard before.”
Amy refuses to be baited. “How many Kogis are there in your cryobunker?”
“That would be a question for the old government. Too bad they're all in limbo.”
“Take a guess, then.”
Balthazar seems amused by Amy's doggedness. “About 20,000, I suppose.”
“And how many of those are on the Architect's side?”
“Only about 1,500. But they can be resurrected, so it might as well be a million.”
“Not necessarily. And of the 18,500 others, how many are still alive?”
“Maybe 4,000. But only half of those are here with me. The rest are scattered around the isles, either unaware of the war's existence or hiding from it.”
“Then we need to gather them all together and prepare for one final attack.”
Balthazar isn't amused anymore. “We need to? You have some nerve on you. Did the Colonizer ever mention that we tried to hire him first? But he wanted the same thing the Architect does: the location of my space station, and free reign to take it apart. If he had been more reasonable, none of this would be happening.”
“We didn't know that.” Amy admits. “But there are things you don't know, too. If we physically touch the Architect, the Colonizer can pull her out of this world. But to reach her, we will need to kill all 1,500 of her troops in one go. That way, by the time they respawn and return here, the war will be over.”
“It can't be done. Her 1,500 are the most hardened soldiers in existence. They've fought over 50 battles each, and have no fear of death. We would need all 4,000 to beat them, and there is no way that’s going to happen. And even if it did, the Architect would just kill herself and escape.”
“So what’s your plan, then? Drink hard, fight the good fight, and die spear in hand like the epic bitch that you are?”
Balthazar smiles dangerously. “Careful now. If I thought there was a way out of this, I would take it. But without the full 4,000, it's just not possible.”
“And if we can get you the numbers, will you promise to stake them all on a final attack?”
“Sure, why not? I'm not lending you a single soldier though, so you'll have to do it alone.”
“But that could take months!” Peace protests.
“More like years. There are 350 islands in the Kogi archipelago - although I could spit across some of them.”
“How good at spitting are you?”
Ignoring this, the Queenfisher stabs her letter opener into the tabletop.
“So, you want to be heroes. Well what are you waiting for? Head down to the docks, pick an outrigger and start rowing.”
CHAPTER 16
Leaving Balthazar to her maps and her rum, we head back out into the war-ravaged town. Peace is fuming. “Years. Does that woman think we've got nothing better to do than potter around these islands, coaxing people into fighting for her? The Afflicted will all be dead by the time we escape this place, and the Medgician's city will be lost for good.”
Amy is shaking her head. “That's not true. You heard the Colonizer; time passes faster here.”
“Okay fine. What about us, though? No offense, but you’re not my idea of ideal company.”
“I know you don't want to be separated from Delez that long. But this is how it has to be. There are problems that can't be solved with speed and brute force. Sometimes you have to commit to a long, thankless slog, knowing all along that it might be for nothing.”
“And why do you care so much all of a sudden, Amy? I think you've got the hots for Balthazar, and you're enjoying the idea of being here long term.”
“Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I am attracted to her. It doesn't matter, though. She will be here doing her part, and we will be out there doing ours.”
“But I'll bet you love the idea of returning here with an army at your back.”
Amy stops in her tracks. “How would you know what I love? Have you ever asked me what I want from life? Or why I joined the squad in the first place? No. Only Francis ever bothered to do that. You know nothing about me, so you don't get to judge my character.”
The sniper looks surprised by these words, but she's too caught up to back down now. “Alright, I'll bite. Why did you join us?”
“Because you were the only people who would have me. I'm a freak, Peace. An adult in a child’s body. You took me on out of obligation, and because I'm useful. But to everyone else I'm just a science experiment, abandoned halfway through.”
“But not to Balthazar though, right? She's going to be different somehow?”
“How should I know? But she is the first thing I can ever remember wanting for myself.”
“And you’re basing this on what - all of two brief interactions?”
Amy looks like she's about to punch Peace. But then she says, “You know what? You're right. Two interactions is not enough.”
Turning away from us, she starts to walk back the way we came. “Pick a canoe and bring it to the funeral plain.” She says over her shoulder. “I'll meet you there tomorrow.”
“Amy, wait!” The sniper calls out. The girl pauses.
“What is it?”
“You said the Queenfisher would do her part. Well does that include surrendering? Will she give up the space station's location if the Architect wins - or will she let her people stay in limbo forever?”
It's a good question asked at the absolute worst time. Amy doesn't reply, just spins on her heel and leaves. I look at Peace.
“What?” She says sullenly.
“It needed to be said.”
“All of it?”
“Okay, maybe not all. But someone has to reign that girl in, and it sure as hell isn't going to be you, so...”
“Look, I know it got to you, what Amy said about you losing your personality. But going around being a bastard to everyone isn't going to solve anything.”
She looks away. “Yeah, I know. But don't tell me it didn't fuck with your head too, finding out that Tikal might not really care about you.”
“Of course it did! In fact I don't think I'll be able to get past it... unless we can uninstall the link and find out the truth. Which isn't going to happen without Amy's help.”
“Alright! I'll apologize when she gets back.” A thought occurs to her. “If she comes back at all.”
.
She does, as it turns out. Just before dawn, with a huge grin on her face. Peace has been steeling herself all night, and now she launches into action.
“Listen Amy, I just wanted to say that -”
“Apology accepted.” The girl replies, collapsing onto the ground beside the sniper.
“Really? I mean... thanks. What happened, though? Why are you back so early?”
“She kicked me out.”
“How come?”
“Because I asked her to surrender if things got too bad here.”
Peace's eyes widen. “Seriously? But if she kicked you out, why are you smiling like that?”
“Because she didn't do it until after I got laid. And after she said yes.”
“To surrendering?”
“That’s right.”
“Wow, you must have been pretty good then.”
Amy rolls over to face her, eyes gleaming. “I'm pretty sure I was, but I have no frame of reference. Is nine orgasms a lot for one night?”
“You could say that.”
“Then yeah, I was.”
“And when she finds out what you look like in the Real?”
“Hmm. I hadn't thought about that. Do you think she might be upset?”
“Oh no, I'm sure she'll be totally fine with it. Everyone loves finding out that they're a pedophile.”
I nudge Peace in the ribs, and she relents. “But Balthazar's young too, and she might never find out anyway. The Kogis plan to live here permanently, after all. And she's definitely smitten, so maybe love will win through.”