by Liam Clay
“Why don’t you go up there and introduce yourself?”
“To these crazies? You can't be serious.”
He may be talking a good line, but the albino can't quite keep the smile off his face. This is more like the fame he was hoping for.
“Come on you big faker, we both know you want to.”
Nem blows a stream of air out through his nose.
“Alright fine. But only for a minute or two, okay?”
A hydraulic cherrypicker stands next to the stage, but the albino needs no such assistance. He scampers straight up one of the cranes, and the crowd noise rises by a few octaves. Reaching the stage, he starts to blow kisses to good looking men in the audience. While he basks in the adulation, I manage to locate the black haired auctioneer. He doesn't seem happy to see me.
“Oh, hello Live Soldier.”
“Hey. Listen, I need you to do something for me.”
The man shakes his head. “I'd love to, except that I was just about to run away. It won’t be long until this lot turns on me, and I need to be gone by then.”
“I actually think you may have saved yourself when you turned coats during the battle. And if you do what I ask, you’ll be in the clear for sure.”
He looks dubious, but nods.
“Have it your way. I had no idea how I was going to escape anyway, to be honest.”
I give the auctioneer his instructions. He looks dumbfounded at first, and then thoughtful, and finally ecstatic. Then he climbs aboard the cherrypicker and ascends to the stage. Stepping forward, he puts one arm around Nem's shoulders, and waves to the crowd with the other. The cameras are still trained on their position; this will go out to the entire city.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, newly freed slaves of all ages. Please allow me to introduce... the White Shade! I know, right? I can't believe it either. Anyway, do I have a treat for you. I’ve been asked to narrate a story told by the legend himself - whose real name is Nem, by the way. So, who wants to hear how Nem tricked those dirty slavers into thinking he was an evil ghost?”
The responding roar would seem to indicate that they all do.
“Excellent!” The auctioneer turns to Nem. “The floor is yours, my color-challenged friend.”
And without any further provocation, Nem launches into a story. It doesn't begin with his stint as the White Shade though, but much earlier, during his kung fu cult days as the Ivory Scorpion. The words flash across his neck and the auctioneer speaks them, almost in real time. Before long, both men are jumping around the stage, acting out Nem's illustrious life with utter abandon.
This is certainly a strange way to declare one's intent to govern a people, but Nem was never going to be your average leader. And the crowd, to be fair, is eating it up. The albino is morphing from a half-believed myth to an unlikely hero before my eye. Now I just have to find him some deputies.
Luckily, most of the crater has turned out to watch the Shade Show. In relatively short order, I am able to round up Bruin, Belinda and Peppin. The conversation starts off rather awkwardly, as the actor and the acrobat almost came to blows a few short hours ago. But after it emerges that Datsel is fine, we are able to move past the incident. Bruin, for his part, still seems dazed by the sudden uptick in his fortunes. But he listens to my pitch along with the others.
“Why me?” He asks afterward. “I have no experience with this stuff.”
“It doesn't matter. The important thing is that you've lived in Ninetown your whole life. Whatever society is created here, it will be made up partly of people who were born into slavery. They will need a voice, and I would like it to be yours.”
While Bruin contemplates this, I turn to Belinda. “You're a no-brainer, I think. A natural leader with the ability to compromise, and the will to stand up for what’s right. That is a rare combination.”
The acrobat bows her head. “I would be honored to act as Nem's deputy.” She hesitates. “Do you think the White Shade is the right choice, though? This will not be an easy job.”
“I know that. And he may struggle at first. But his star power should get you through the first few months without having to worry about dissent and infighting. Your job will be to make this a good place to live before that starts to creep in. And if you could teach Nem how to lead while you're at it, that would be helpful too.”
Belinda smiles. “You’re asking a lot, but I will do my best. Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
And now it’s Peppin's turn.
“Are you going to trumpet my praises to the rafters as well?” He asks bitterly. “If you had done so a few days ago, I might have believed you. But now I have revealed myself as a small man, more focused on revenge than justice.”
“You heard Belinda.” I reply. “Nobody is going to judge you for hating a slaver - even one who meant well. But if you don't want praise... then how about this. I want you to be one of Nem's deputies because you failed. You couldn’t stop listening to the story you'd been telling yourself, even though it clashed with what your ears were hearing. And that lesson will serve you well in politics. Hopefully now, you will always listen to the other person's side, and try to see past existing narratives to the truth.”
Peppin lets out a short laugh. “You are quite good at this, you know. Are you sure you can't stay?”
“I'm sure. It's time to get back.”
A shiver runs through me as I say this. I've been trying not to think about my daughter and my home. But now, for the first time in months, they are starting to feel within reach again. But I still have a lot of work to do first.
.
Parting ways with Ninetown's new deputies, I go in search of my friends. And find them at the back of the crowd, watching Nem with bemusement.
“I'm assuming this was your idea?” Lucy asks.
“Yup. How did you know?”
“Because no one else would have thought of putting that guy in charge.”
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“No, just weird. But then, you're a pretty weird dude.”
“Guilty as charged. How are you guys doing?”
Lucy and Francis both look at Amy.
“I would like to leave.” The girl says. “Now, if possible.”
“She's itching to see Balthazar.” Francis explains. “But she's afraid too, so she wants to get it over with quickly.”
“Why are you afraid?” I ask Amy. She gives me an incredulous look.
“Uh, because I've never met her in person before? And because I'm inhabiting a child's body?”
“Oh right, that. But hey, you could almost pass for seventeen now. And Balthazar is only twenty, right?”
“That is oh so comforting. Anyway, now that you've saved the day here, can we please get ready to go?”
“Sure. How are we going to do that, though?”
“Tikal is with Calendo right now, ironing out the details.”
“And is Delez one of those details?”
The three exchange another look.
“What is it?”
Lucy grimaces. “After the battle, Peace took him to a storage locker inside the Sun, and locked the door behind her. We don’t know what they've been doing since.”
“I've got an inkling.” Francis says with a wink. Amy seems less sure.
“Do the Null even have sex? I thought maybe they got snipped inside those tankers.”
“Hey! That's our friend’s wiener you're talking about.”
“But if the two of them are alone in there,” I cut in, “how do we know he hasn't killed her?”
“Why would he do that now?” Lucy asks. “A few hours ago he let himself get captured trying to save her life.”
“Are we sure that's what he was trying to do?”
“Sure looked like it.”
Amy glances from face to face. “We could stand around guessing for a few hours, or we could just go ask him.”
It's hard to argue with this logic. Nem's new depu
ties have joined him on stage now, and the auctioneer is introducing them. Everything seems to be running smoothly, and so we are able to slip away without guilt.
It's strange being inside the Sun again. I keep searching instinctively for work to do. My friends can feel it too. I can only imagine how Bruin and the other lifers will feel. Amy leads us through empty corridors and past abandoned assembly lines to an unmarked door.
“Are you sure this is it?” Francis asks.
Amy gives him a withering look, and then knocks.
“Peace, it's Amy. Can we talk to you?”
She obviously doesn't expect an answer. But the door swings open almost immediately, and there is Peace. Her face is drawn, eyes bloodshot. Before any of us can move, she runs over to Lucy and buries her head in the poker player's chest. Lucy isn't known for her nurturing personality (none of us are) but she does her best, hugging the little sniper while she suffers. I’ve seen Peace break down like this once before, when she was worried about committing to a life with Delez. But this seems much worse.
“What's wrong?” Lucy asks softly.
“He won't wake up.” Comes the reply.
“Shit. Is he breathing?”
“Yes, but barely. And his eyelids are fluttering really fast.” She pulls away to look Lucy in the eyes. “I think he might be dying.”
“But why?” Amy breaks in. “You both fell off the freighter together, and you're okay.”
“But what if it's something else? He went against his Null conditioning trying to save me. Maybe the process has some sort of failsafe that kills people who manage to rebel.”
Judging by Amy's face, she hadn't thought of this. And neither had I. Replaying the moment in my head does no good either. Those missiles came in, and Delez threw them both overboard, end of story.
“Can we see him?” I ask.
She allows us to enter the storage closet. My friend is laid out on the floor. Spare blankets have been wrapped around his body, and tucked beneath his head. If I didn't know him, the angular planes of his face would seem harsh and unforgiving. The nullification scar only makes things worse. But I know this man for the kind, outgoing soul that he is. Or was. And so does everyone else in this cramped, forgotten room. Bending down, I see that his eyelids are indeed fluttering, like a dreamer on the edge of REM sleep. What is he thinking about right now? Or fighting against?
“Should we take him to a doctor?” Francis asks the room at large.
Amy shakes her head. “The only doctors here are from the knife parlors, and not to be trusted.”
I consider suggesting that we go looking for Farakul. But Nem’s old fight doctor could just as easily be back at the Outpost, or on a barge out to sea.
“Then what should we do?” Francis presses.
Amy has an answer. “Maybe the Kogis can help him. And I'm not just saying that because I want to see Balthazar.” She adds before anyone can comment. Peace looks up, and the hope in her expression is painful to see.
“You really think the islanders might be able to save him?”
“I don't know. But it's the best chance we've got.”
I put a hand on Peace's shoulder. “Let's get your husband out of here. It's time to go see Arella Calendo.”
CHAPTER 24
The Thresh mercenaries have turned a stretch of open crater into an airfield. I've never seen a spitfire up close before, and so I stop to inspect one on the way in. The plane is about seven meters long and almost as wide across the wings. It has been painted in mixed shades of green and savannah gold. Two bubbled cockpits break its fuselage, one behind the other. The foremost will be for the pilot, and the second is for a gunner. It is strongly reminiscent of the ancient fighter plane for which it is named, except for the rotating, telescoping jet turbines built into each wing instead of a forward propeller.
An old merc is lounging beside it. Valve attachments jut from the skin beside his adam’s apple, just like the soldiers I fought in the battle for the Underworld so long ago.
“You want a picture or something?” He slurs, gesturing at us with an empty liquor bottle.
“That would be great!” Francis replies. “Thanks so much. Oh wait - you were being sarcastic, weren't you.”
The merc gives him a lazy grin. “You got there in the end. Now fuck off.”
We do so, continuing deeper into the airfield. Calendo's army is bigger than I’d imagined. There must be over eighty planes here - although most of them look pretty rough around the edges. We find Tikal buried in the underbelly of a spitfire. Tools are spread across the ground at her feet, along with what looks like half the engine. Behind her, a temporary command center has been set up. It consists of a single camouflaged tent with beer kegs circling it. To judge by the empty cups (and the occasional snoring soldier) that litter the ground, the mercs have been celebrating their victory. But the festivities are over now, and there’s no one much around. Except, that is, for Calendo herself. The mercenary leader is slouched in a lawn chair with her legs up on a plastic table. She has a cowboy hat tipped down over her face and is snoring loudly, the sound echoing off the surrounding planes. Hearing our approach, Tikal extricates herself from the spitfire.
“You guys have no idea how good it is to see these babies again.” She says. “I missed fixing the damn things almost as much as flying them.” Then she sees Peace, and her levity vanishes.
“How is Delez?”
“Unconscious.” The sniper says shortly. “We want to take him to see the Kogis.”
“Good idea. And not just because of Delez. These mercs are heroes right now, but no one wants a foreign army camped out on their front lawn for too long. Things could go sour if we stay, even with the albino in charge.” She turns to me. “Is that for real, by the way?”
“Sure is. He's being inaugurated as we speak. Or something like that. Now can we please go see Calendo?”
She gives me a searching look. “Are you going to be cool about this? I know you're still mad about getting blown up at that industry party. And... what was the other thing?”
“Her mercenaries attacked the Underworld, destroyed my people’s way of life, and took us all prisoner.”
“Yes, that was it. Anyway, you're not going to get all pissy, are you? Remember, we need her.”
I mutter something about being good, and Tikal nods. “Alright, I'll introduce you. She might be a bit cranky though.”
“We'll risk it.” Peace growls.
With my girlfriend leading the way, we approach the sleeping woman. Calendo's golden armor is drenched in blood, and it looks like the helmet on the table beside her has never been washed. She is either superstitious or a total slob, I'm not sure which. Tikal prods her with a foot - and the woman goes for the gun on her hip. There is something of the western gunslinger in the movement, and even I have to admit it looks cool. Then she tips her hat back just enough to look us over. I have only met this woman once before, and under the falsest of pretenses. But a large percentage of my recent life has revolved around her in some way.
“Can't you see I'm trying to sleep one off?” She says crossly.
“I wanted to introduce you to my friends.” Tikal replies. “And to Anex especially.”
The mercenary gives me a sly smile. “No intros necessary there, Teeks. Me and this guy go way back. Unlike you, he even knows me with this face.”
“I’ve been waiting for an excuse to ask you about that.” Tikal says. “How much did Porter have to pay you to get facial reconstruction surgery?”
“Actually, my old mug was looking pretty carved up by the time that pretty boy came a-knocking. Word to the wise: never drink absinthe before a knife fight. So anyway, I was keen to get an upgrade.”
“Who was he?” I ask suddenly, interrupting their conversation.
“Who was who?” Calendo replies.
“The man you blackmailed into becoming a human bomb. He was from the Underworld, wasn't he?”
She sighs. “I would usually lie to yo
u about this. And you would have believed every word, too; I really am that good. But Teeks said I couldn't, so you lucky souls are going to get nothing but the truth from me. Yes, he was from the Underworld.”
“Why did he agree to sacrifice himself?”
“We promised to give his family a corporate apartment on the 175th floor.”
“And did they get it?”
“I don't know - that was Porter's job. But I personally doubt it.”
“How could you do something like that?”
Calendo looks over at Tikal. “I know I promised, but do I seriously have to put up with this shit?”
“If we're going to be friends again? Yes.”
“I think you’re overestimating the value of your companionship, but fine.” She turns back to me. “I could do it because I don't care about anyone but myself. I'm what you might call a sociopath, you see. So before you go trusting me, I would advise you to think about what's in it for yours truly. Understand?”
“Perfectly.” Amy says. “And I believe it's in your best interest to find Balthazar again, so you can collect your reward. Which means we should be going.”
“See, this chick gets it!” Calendo says happily. “So you're the Designer clone the Queenfisher is sweet on, eh?”
“No, I'm a different teenage girl traveling with a squad of unhinged soldiers.”
“Ooh, I like this one. Maybe I can be friends with you instead of Tikal, and then I can go back to telling the rest of these fools what they want to hear.”
“I already have friends.”
“Aww!” Francis says. “I know you care about us, but it's nice to hear it once in a while.”
“I meant the Kogis, you dolt.”
Francis looks enraged. “Those coconut-eating chumps! What do they have that we don't?”
“I did live with them for the past eight subjective years, you know. And the coconuts actually were a pretty big plus.”
“Would you two please shut up?” Calendo cuts in. “I believe there was some talk of leaving.”
Lucy surveys the impromptu airfield. “I hate to break it to you, but most of your mercs are dead to the world.”
Calendo slides her feet off the table and stands to face the poker player.