The Live Soldier Trilogy Box Set

by Liam Clay

  In the afternoon of the third day, Medival comes into view. Unlike the other arcologies it is not a uniform green, but a riot of shades in that color. When we ask Rajani about it, she says that the pyramid is just a framework of struts with varied plant life growing over them. Her description fascinates me, and I spend a good hour looking at the structure. During this time, I keep catching glimmers in the sky above it. But the harder I stare, the more elusive they become.

  Until the wind shifts. Then an aerial array of solar sails pivots into view. I had been looking at them side-on, but now they are revealed in all their glory. Shimmering silver and veined with divergent lines of bright blue, the sails are among the most beautiful things I've ever seen. I wonder how much energy they produce, and what the Null are doing with it all.

  At noon on the fourth day, we reach the Timestone. It is a triangular edifice of black marble, thrust a full three hundred meters into the sky. Sheer-sided and manmade, it towers over the swamp, purpose obscure. There is a wicker punching bag out back of Hera's longhouse, and she has spent the morning tearing into it. I made the mistake of asking what was wrong, and she threw a looping haymaker my way. Upon reflection, I think she was worried that no one would show up.

  But her bag took a beating for nothing, because they've come. Over fifty Gardens hover above the wetlands, with more on the horizon. Hera can hardly believe it. I don't think she trusted Pon to make this happen. Runners are sent out, and an agreement is reached. At dawn tomorrow, an emissary from each Garden will scale the Timestone for a meeting of the minds. The squad will go as well, with the elders acting as an honor guard. Hera argues against Rajani's attendance, but we insist on bringing her. None of us wants to get caught out if the Gravs ask for details on the nanovax weapon.

  Later, Tikal and I have quiet sex in our corner of the lab. She falls asleep right afterward, but I toss and turn the night away. I'm feeling guilty, to be honest. If Hera can unite the Gravs, we may not have to infiltrate the arcology on our own. And if a full attack on Medival takes place, no one will be able to say that Opacity was behind it. We're off the hook with Shion, and our chances of dying will go down significantly. The question is, how many Gravs will lose their lives to save ours?

  But we haven't forced them into anything, and this is their home we will be fighting for. So by morning, I am resolved to do everything possible to win them to our cause. Hera coaxes a group of vines into bringing us to the ground, and we head for the Timestone. From this vantage point, the edifice bears a strong resemblance to a sundial - thus the name. We are directly in its shadow throughout our approach. A tunnel has been cut into the Stone's base. Hera's fellow elders are carrying ornate lamps on poles. They light them now, and join a host of other Gravs standing guard around the entrance. Peace leans over to whisper in my ear.

  “What a bunch of fakers. They're trying to act like this is some ancient tradition, even though it's never happened before.”

  We follow Hera into the tunnel. It smells strongly of rock dust and age. The passage burrows deep into the monolith, ending at a staircase carved out of the stone itself. Each step is over half a meter high, as though meant for a race of giants. Pon has received an invite as well. Glomming onto me as we climb, he says, “So, you boning the redhead or what?”

  “Why, you got your eye on her? Because I'm pretty sure she'd snap you in half.”

  He grins. “Unders bend real good, but we never break. Just look at the Overs. They've been treating us like crap for years, but we just keep on hanging around. Get it? Because we live upside down?”

  “Yeah, good one.”

  “Thanks. Hey, do you want some advice?”

  “As long as it's not of a sexual nature. Because we already have a consultant for that.”

  “Weird. No, it has nothing to do with pleasing that goddess of a woman you're dating. It's about the emissaries.”

  “Go ahead, then.”

  “Convincing them to go to war won’t be the hard part. Getting them to choose a leader will be. Each Garden considers itself a sovereign nation, and taking orders from anyone else would be a step toward losing independence. Or that’s how they will see it, anyway.”

  “Shit. How are we supposed to get around that?”

  “I don’t know. Get them to roll some dice or draw straws, maybe. Something random.”

  “Are you for real? And what's your angle here, anyway? I thought you didn't even like the Overs.”

  “Like them? Not particularly. But we have a symbiotic relationship. The bioengineered nutrients they create seep down through the platform and into our soil. Not to mention what will happen if the Null defeat them. So long story short, we need them.”

  “Fair. And if we do go to war, will the Unders fight with us?”

  “I will. Anyone Hera is afraid of has got to be stopped. But we're a free society, so I can't speak for anyone else.”

  Pon jumps ahead to hit on Tikal after that, and I concentrate on climbing. My wounds may be on the mend, but I'm still purple and green all over. Would it have killed them to hold this meeting at ground level? But I eventually reach the top, emerging onto a rectangular deck bolted to the peak of the triangle. It’s already crowded. Wary faces turn our way, and I have to suppress the urge to drop my eyes. Aggression and confidence will be needed if my newly formed plan is going to work.

  “Gravs!” I shout, voice chopping the wind. “You don't know me. Or trust me, either. So I'm just going to tell you our plan, and describe what we can offer. The rest will be up to you.”

  I pause. If Hera decides to take over, it will happen now. But she holds her peace and I am allowed to continue.

  “The Null are emotionless creeps, and it looks like they're out for the world's blood. We want to stop them right here, before they come knocking on Opacity's door. The first step will be to clear the globetanks out of the wetlands. I know that all of you want the same thing. And to prove that we mean business, we are willing to share technology that will help you do it.”

  One of the emissaries speaks. “We all want the Null gone. But I will not accept Hera's leadership based on the promises of a stranger.”

  There are murmurs of ascent all around.

  “I had a feeling you might say that. Who do you think should lead our forces then?”

  The man draws himself up. “I believe that I would make a suitable candida -”

  “You're embarrassing yourself, Zanik!” A woman shouts over him. “We would rather take orders from a talking parrot than you.”

  “And you would be so much better, Ria?” The man snaps. I intervene before things can escalate.

  “We could spend years trying to reach a consensus on this! So I have an alternative suggestion. Why don't we choose a general based on merit?”

  “How would we do that?”

  “By holding a contest. Each Garden will have two weeks to destroy as many globetanks as they can. Bring the software cores back here as proof, and the winner gets to be our new general.”

  I hope that I've just backed the emissaries into a corner. Anyone who argues against my idea will look weak and afraid of failure. But they could still balk as a group. The wind swirls around us, as though we stand at the eye of a localized hurricane.

  “What kind of technology are you offering?” Ria asks after an interval.

  “It is the same weapon the Null have been using to destroy your Gardens.”

  “You mean the white webs? How is that possible?”

  And now the Medgician steps forward.

  “It is possible because I created the webs - in their weaponized form at least.”

  This statement incites the uproar Hera had imagined it would. The emissaries have questions, of course. And Rajani fields them with complete, stripped to the bones honesty. I keep hoping to hear some emotion creep into her responses, but she remains removed throughout.

  “So you're a half-breed trying to reclaim your chosen home.” Zanik summarizes.

  “Living in Medi
val was not my decision, but otherwise you are correct.”

  “And on top of that, you made the weapon that is being used to kill us. You will forgive me if I am not inclined to trust you.”

  “We'll take his share then!” Ria calls out. “Just tell us what to do with it.”

  “We can provide each of you with fifty liters of weaponized nanovax.” Tikal says quickly. “When applied to the surface of a globetank, it should kill the nano-material located at the point of contact, creating a rupture. Then you can insert an incendiary device into the vehicle's interior, incapacitating it.”

  “In other words, smear it with goo and blow it the fuck up.” Peace adds.

  The emissaries insist on being convinced every step of the way, but they eventually agree to the contest. It's a win for us, no doubt about that. But the entire exercise is a huge waste of time and resources. The Gardens would be better off hunting in packs, instead of roving around on their own. But if this is how we get them to choose a leader, so be it. And if that leader should happen to be Hera - and by extension, us... that would be acceptable as well.

  CHAPTER 26

  It takes most of a day to supply the participants with the promised nanovax. But the job gets done, and then the other Gardens depart the Timestone, leaving us alone again. Hera and Pon are being almost civil to one another, which makes for a pleasant change. But kind words aren't going to capture us any tanks. And so we form a strategy, don our armor, and venture back out into the swamp.

  The two weeks that follow are hard to describe. I could tell you about the combination of dread and elation that occurs when I spot a globetank in the distance. Or about rappelling down a vine with a rocket launcher full of nanovax on my shoulder. Or maybe you want to hear about the first time I score a hit, and how I think that Rajani has made a mistake. I'm left hanging under heavy fire on that occasion, with nothing to show for my efforts. Until a cloud of acrid smoke erupts from the impact point, drifting up into the sky. When it dissipates, a hole the size of a table has appeared in the tank's black shell. Then it becomes a game of target practice, which Tikal wins.

  Other days are spent in the muck, fighting roving battles against Null foot soldiers. By nightfall, I'm often too tired to wash away the blood and the filth. Pon and the Unders join us, as do Hera and the Overs. Through trial and error we learn to fight together, each according to our own strengths. So many things to say about the repetitive, draining grind of battle. But nothing can summarize the reality, and I know that none of you are watching all of this. The strain would be to great.

  But by the end of fourteen days, we have eight software cores in our possession. More than two hundred Gravs are dead though, including Vyev. Nobody saw her die, or even knows how it happened. So there is no final story, no lasting legend to keep her memory alive. Just an absence for her family to deal with.

  My friends are dead on their feet. I can't remember a time when the world felt this dark, this claustrophobic and unavoidable. I spend half the trip back to Timestone asleep, and the other half talking to Sophie. She knows what I've been doing, and about Shion's ultimatum. But we don't talk about it. Instead she tells me about her life. My little girl is growing up, and the schoolyard is a battlefield all its own. With her help, I lose myself in the drama of the young. A place where backstabbing is just a figure of speech, and where fights end in tears instead of blood.

  There have been no further attempts on Kalana's life, she tells me. But the attack still haunts the Hive and Opacity alike. There is no concrete proof that the Null were behind it, but that doesn’t matter. They have become what the Designer used to be: a representation of the unknown, of purified fear. I begin to suspect that my daughter is making her peace with me. Before I'm just a memory encoded in a digital feed.

  We don't bother to climb the Timestone for our second meeting. Everyone is too burned out to care about appearances - and there is another reason as well. It isn't just the emissaries in attendance on this occasion. Over half the Grav population has gathered to watch our general crowned.

  Between us, we have destroyed over a hundred tanks... and lost eight Gardens. As we stand there on the rotting plain, I wonder if our losses will be enough to break the will of these people. But I've misjudged them. If anything, they are more determined now. Less interested in pride, more focused on the true enemy. And on destroying them.

  We gather around a raised crown of dry land. And one by one, each Garden presents its trophies. Zanik's people are the first to go. A set of triplets carry three cores up onto the hill. Laying them carefully on the ground, they turn and strike a pose, as though waiting for applause. It is not forthcoming.

  “Who can beat that?” Zanik says. The aggression he displayed atop the Timestone is gone; now he just sounds tired.

  “We can.” Says an attractive woman from across the hill. At her command, five equally beautiful men deposit their prizes next to the others. But they've barely returned to their places before two groups of six are coming forward. They glare at each other - already contemplating the prospect of sharing power - even as Ria's Garden stacks seven cores on top of theirs.

  We wait for someone else to stake their claim. But no one does, and now Hera is joining the fray, carrying two cores all by herself. I heft mine, my squadmates do the same, and we step out into deafening silence. Rajani is the last to join us. Hers is the eight core, and it pushes us to victory. But we’re not out of the woods yet.

  “How do we know they didn't cheat?” The attractive woman says.

  Peace snorts. “What, you think we paid the Null fifty credits each to borrow these things?”

  “No, but you might have hoarded extra nanovax for yourselves!”

  “We did not.” Rajani says calmly. “I divided it equally amongst us all.”

  “Liar!”

  “It is the truth.” Even accused of a major offense, the Medgician sounds utterly calm, and the crowd bristles.

  “She's a fucking Null!” Someone calls out.

  God damn it. I warned Rajani this would happen if she couldn't let her emotions out. And now, because of the timing, it looks like she's trying to make a play for the leadership. She'll be lucky if they don't string her up. Outrage is crackling through the crowd, and if they take action, I don't think the squad will escape the lash.

  “Do something!” I urge Hera. But her expression is grim.

  “How do you know she isn't one of them?”

  “Rajani is just a product of her environment! Growing up as a minority instills defense mechanisms in people.”

  “That's not good enough.”

  A rock whistles past the Medgician's head and strikes Lucy on the shoulder. Another hits the core I'm carrying. I'm sure Rajani isn't a Null, but all I've got is a gut feeling to back that up. The circle around us is shrinking, and the air smells of violence. We’re about to get fucking killed.

  “Stop!”

  The word isn't spoken loudly. But it has a knotty, wooden quality that breaks through the discord. Thousands of heads turn as one. And from out of the crowd steps an old woman. She is bent almost to the waist, with clumped white hair and cataracts that have turned her eyes an ice-pale blue. Like all Gravs, her skin has a green tint to it, but she is clearly of Indian descent. The Medgician has frozen stiff. I don't know what's going on - but it can't be worse than what was happening before, so I'm all for it. The old woman hobbles to within a pace of Rajani, and then turns to face the masses.

  “This woman is not a Null!” She states in her tree root voice. “She is my daughter.”

  There is a collective intake of breath. And then Ria says, “Bullshit.”

  “It's true! When Rajani was born, I gave her to the Medivalians. I was ashamed of who had fathered her, and wanted the proof to disappear. It was a very long time ago, but I can still see myself in this woman's face. Why would I lie?”

  Seconds tick by while the Gravs consume this new data. Zanik is the first to recover.

  “So maybe you a
re her mother. What of it? The Null are made, not born, and scars can be concealed. She could still be one of them.”

  Everyone starts shouting again, but I only have eyes for Rajani. She is clutching her hair in both hands as though preparing to rip it out. Then she releases a blood curdling shriek that brings the altercation to a standstill.

  “You gave me away?” She shouts into the rift. “Gave your own daughter away? How could you do that? You can't imagine what it was like, having this skin in that place. The things they called me. I've had to live most of my life alone in the wilderness, just to get away from their judgment. I hate you!”

  And then she bursts into tears. Peace and Delez run over to comfort her. I’m about to do the same, but then I get a look at the mother's face. And her expression makes me rethink everything that just happened.

  “Do you still think this woman is a Null?” Lucy asks.

  “She could be faking it.” Zanik replies. But he doesn't look like he believes it, and neither does anyone else.

  “Have you ever seen a Null fake emotions?” Hera says. “Because I haven't. I don't think they know how.”

  “So what happens next?” Ria asks her.

  “Our Garden won the contest. Does anyone dispute this?”

  Nobody answers.

  “Then it is decided. Pon and I will lead the war effort.”

  “And what will you have us do?”

  “Our people have fought long and hard. So tonight will be a time for rest.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “We prepare to march on Medival.”

  A dark force runs through the crowd: a thing of terror and anticipation and deadly intent. Then the Gravs disperse, heading back to their respective Gardens. The squad leads Rajani away. The old woman watches them go, but makes no move to follow. She looks tired now, and quite ill. I wonder how old she is. But whatever her age, she is still going to answer my questions.