by Garth Nix
“We will remember them,” echoed Ella, Ninde, and Drum. Gold-Eye sat silent, uncomfortable, aware he was in the middle of some ritual he didn’t know.
Shade breathed in deeply then, chest visibly filling his crisp white shirt, and said, “Right. Back to the operation. The Death Markers give us a unique opportunity that must be exploited. There are instruments in my lab that will make a major difference to our struggle with the Overlords—if you can get them back.”
Drum raised one ponderous hand. Shade hesitated, then said, “Yes, Drum?”
“Instruments worth our lives?”
“That’s a difficult question,” replied Shade. He didn’t look at Drum, gazing at the ceiling instead as he spoke. “However, these instruments can possibly…can probably detect and measure whatever it is the Overlords project or broadcast from the silver globes you can see atop the International Trade Center and City Tower. I’ve been trying to do that for many, many years, without success. I’ve also tried to duplicate the instruments in other ways. I really believe that if we can retrieve the main instrument package from my lab, then the secret of the Overlords’ Projectors will lead us to victory.”
“Then we’ll get the instruments,” said Ella decisively. “Right, Drum? Ninde? Gold-Eye?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Ninde unenthusiastically. Then her voice brightened slightly. “At least we’ll be going somewhere different.”
Drum looked at Ella for several seconds, then finally nodded his approval.
Gold-Eye didn’t do or say anything. He didn’t know what they were talking about. But they were his new people, his new Petar and Jemmie. He would stay with them till something happened—and if it did, he’d already decided he wouldn’t run. Better dead or even the Meat Factory than more years of running scared, running alone.
“I’ll talk to Gold-Eye now,” said Shade. “Ella, come back in an hour and I’ll give you a full briefing. The maps will be printed out then, with the latest intelligence from my rats and Stelo’s team.”
“Stelo’s back, then?” asked Ninde, smiling. Then she said, “Oops,” and raised her hand.
Her smile slipped as Shade looked at her silently, his fingers tapping equally silently on the desk.
“Your Change Talent makes you useful, Ninde,” Shade said finally. “But that doesn’t mean you can ignore the rules—little rules or big rules. Yes, Stelo’s team is back—but I forbid you to approach him. He’s got enough to worry about without you trying out flirting skills learned from 1990s videos. If you want to sleep with someone, Ninde, put yourself in the Lottery like everyone else—and pass the contraception knowledge test, which I note you haven’t even accessed.”
“But I don’t want to be in the Lottery,” Ninde complained. “I might get anyone. I might even get Drum. Oh, sorr—”
The sharp sound and impact of a slap cut her short, and Ella was standing over her, palm as red as Ninde’s left cheek. Before the younger girl could even speak, Ella had her in a “come along” hold and was forcing her out of the room.
“Right, Ninde!” Ella tightened her hold. “You’ve been drifting a bit, and now it’s time I pointed you back on course, with a little explanation about what we’re here to do and your part…which I think may not be quite what you think it is!”
Gold-Eye watched them go in wonderment. Surely there was enough trouble outside without having trouble between people here?
Drum watched too, apparently unaffected by Ninde’s outburst. When the hatch closed behind the two women, he got up and made a curious half bow that included both Gold-Eye and Shade.
“I’ll go too,” he said very softly. As he passed Gold-Eye, he paused and lowered his great round head, looming over the boy like a spreading tree. Then he spoke, voice half whistling like wind in the branches.
“Don’t worry, young one. Ninde is good at heart, but strangely unaware of the time she lives in. And Ella is perhaps too much aware. I am just a product of the time. You’ll understand it all, one day.”
Then he was gone, lumbering out through the hatch—and Gold-Eye was left alone with Shade, the rat robots, and the spider things still lurking and rustling in the shadowed corners.
VIDEO ARCHIVE—SECRET 2711 RICK *3—FINAL
Get away! Get…ah…You’re not a rat…one of Shade’s Eyes…
The others are gone. Nelo and Tanner. We got to the observation point, but there were Trackers everywhere and Myrmidons…. Prebattle, I guess…hu…hu…
Hundreds of them. Pouring out everywhere. We got back to the hedges, but Trackers sniffed us out…. Myrmidons took Nel and Tan…. I’m in Southwest Drain Twelve, about…I don’t know…near the Big Six connection…. Please send someone to get me…. Look…the bone is sticking out…. It hurts….
I jumped…. They almost had me…but I can’t crawl farther…. I can’t…
A team could get me out. Ella or Stelo, they’ll come. They’ll come, won’t they, Shade?
It’s pretty dry down here…. Maybe…maybe dry enough for Ferrets…but it’s not far…not far. They’ll get here before dark. Yeah, it’s okay, they’ll get here…. They’ll get here…. Shade…help me.
CHAPTER SIX
Shade didn’t say anything for a moment after Drum left. He just sat there behind his desk, watching Gold-Eye—who had the uncomfortable feeling that he was somehow being measured or analyzed.
“Your eyes have less gold in them than they did outside,” Shade said finally. “Which is very interesting. We’re underwater here, and water does seem to have a damping effect on Change Talents, Change side-effects—and on creatures.”
“I not…creature,” Gold-Eye said hastily. He’d been accused of that before, on the rare occasions he’d met other people.
“No, you’re not,” said Shade decisively. “Just visibly affected by the Change, which is quite rare. But not unheard of. I have seen other cases. Now, Gold-Eye, I’m going to ask you some questions and I’m also going to tell you some things. Okay?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve heard me talk about the Change and Change Talents. Do you know what I mean?”
Gold-Eye frowned in thought. History as such wasn’t taught in the Dorms, but there were always children who seemed to know things and would tell the others. He wasn’t sure about details, but the general picture was pretty clear.
“Before,” he replied slowly, “there lots of people, who could get old. Then the Change. Grown-up peoples go. Overlords come. Creatures come. Dormitories. Sad Birthdays. The Meat Factory…”
“Good.” Shade smiled. “That’s about right. Almost fifteen years ago, something happened or was made to happen. For an instant everything stopped. Everything moving halted, every machine, every car. In that instant every person over the age of fourteen vanished. Destroyed…translated into another reality…translocated…I don’t know…. And then the Overlords came and herded the survivors into the Dorms. A few weeks after that, the first creatures appeared—built with teenagers’ brains—and the Overlords began their ritual battles….”
He paused, and Gold-Eye raised his hand, remembering the treatment meted out to Ninde for her unauthorized question.
“But you?” asked Gold-Eye, after he was sure Shade had noticed the upraised hand.
Shade smiled again and leaned back in his chair, hands linked behind his glossy black-haired head.
“Yes, everyone disappeared—except me. Or including me, depending on how you look at it. You see, Gold-Eye, I’m not really a person at all!”
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As he said that, Shade vanished and the lights went out. Gold-Eye shot up out of the sofa, heart drumming, then subsided back into the cushions. It was pitch-black and he knew he couldn’t find the hatch. The thought of stumbling across one of the spider robots or rat things….
Then Shade spoke again, his voice echoing from every corner of the room.
“What I am, Gold-Eye, is a human personality stored in a computer’s memory. I have the memories of that real person. I think like a real person. To some degree, I still have the feelings of a real person. But no flesh, save the holographic appearance you have seen—which I must confess is partly based on a twentieth-century actor—so I look rather better than I did in the flesh. A conceit that possibly shows my continuing humanity…
“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Gold-Eye?”
“Yes. You live in machine, show yourself in pictures,” said Gold-Eye, nervously directing each word to a different part of that night-dark chamber, as if a sound would strike the real Shade and make him reappear.
“Good. Very good,” said Shade. He sounded surprised; then his voice returned to that confident, bass tone—only growing much louder as he continued to talk.
“You are quick to grasp the idea. However strange my physical form, I am a mature adult, complete with the sophisticated education of the pre-Change years and equipped with some of its best technology. And as the only educated adult left, perhaps in the whole world, it is my duty to fight against the intruders who have destroyed what we had…my duty to restore humanity…my duty to turn back the Change!”
With this last word, the green laser suddenly stabbed back on. Gold-Eye screamed, flinging himself back into the cushions, an arm covering his face.
When nothing awful followed, he slowly lowered the arm—and the hologram of Shade was back behind the desk, calmly drinking an equally holographic glass of water.
“Ahhh,” said Shade, putting the glass down. “I’m sorry if I scared you, Gold-Eye. I feel very strongly about our struggle…no…our war…against the Overlords. Not for myself so much—but for you, and all the other children in the Dormitories, in the Meat Factory. Those of us who can do something must do something. You agree with that, I trust?”
“Yes,” muttered Gold-Eye, who would have agreed to anything Shade wanted him to. However, it was obvious that the Overlords and their creatures were enemies of people, so it didn’t take much to agree with that. Still, he wished it was Ella or Drum explaining everything to him. Not this fearful man-computer person…
“Excellent,” said Shade, drawing his lips back as he pronounced each syllable slowly. “Ex…cel…lent. I won’t have people here who don’t participate in the war against the Overlords. We’re all soldiers, Gold-Eye, doing whatever we can. And like soldiers in the time before the Change, we must be trained to fight well. Don’t you agree?”
“Not sure meaning?” Gold-Eye replied nervously. The school machines in the Dorms gave you electric shocks if you gave the wrong answer more than once. And Shade was sort of a school machine too….
“You have to learn to fight!” Shade said, stabbing his forefinger at Gold-Eye. “Much of what you will do here will be learning. Learning how to fight the Overlords’ creatures, learning combat skills. And learning for its own sake too. English—where I think you need some work. History. Science. We must preserve and use knowledge in human minds, Gold-Eye. Not just on disks and tapes and in books. Knowledge must be used! Used first to fight the Overlords, of course. Active in mind and body, that’s the ticket. Do you have any questions?”
The sudden question, on top of a monologue that was largely meaningless to Gold-Eye, shook the boy. Once again, he looked from side to side like a frightened rabbit and his mouth opened soundlessly.
“No? You should always have questions, Gold-Eye. Asked in their proper turn, but there should always be questions. Now, what are we going to do with you?”
“Do with me?” asked Gold-Eye, voice squeaking almost as high as Drum’s. That was the phrase the Overlords’ voices spoke on Sad Birthdays, when these enigmatic beings came to oversee the latest crop of fourteen-year-olds, checking the collated school and physical reports to see if the person’s brain, nerves, and muscle were to be used in Winger, Myrmidon, Tracker, Screamer, or Ferret.
“Ah. Apologies,” said Shade, smiling that brilliant white smile again. “I mean, what are you going to do right now? Do you remember how to get back through the Sub to the changing room?”
“Y-y-es,” stuttered Gold-Eye, getting to his feet, relief making his muscles so shaky, he clutched at the armrest for support.
“Go back there,” said Shade. He seemed to think for a moment, then said, “Sim will meet you there and show you where you will sleep and so on….”
He stopped as Gold-Eye raised his hand again nervously, arm shaking.
“New person?” asked Gold-Eye anxiously. “Not Ella, Drum, Ninde?”
“Sim looks after everyone new here. He’ll show you the ropes…show you how things are done,” Shade replied. “But…yes…I think you will work with Ella’s team. Your precognitive talent, your seeing things in the ‘soon-to-be-now’ will be a useful addition to that team.
“So. You will go and meet Sim now. He will guide you through the Sub and fit you out with the standard equipment. You will then return here. I want to record your experience of escaping the Dorms before…before you go out again tomorrow. After that, you will report to Ella, and perhaps there will be time for a lesson before sleep. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” said Gold-Eye.
“Good,” replied Shade. He leaned forward and made a fluttering motion with his right hand. “You may go.”
Gold-Eye needed no encouraging. The lights still hadn’t come back on, but the image of Shade himself gave off enough light for him to find the hatch. As it clanged shut behind him, he let out a small sigh of relief—then jumped in panic, hitting his head, as Shade’s voice echoed through the corridor.
“I forgot to say something, Gold-Eye,” the disembodied voice whispered from roof and floor and walls.
“Welcome aboard.”
VIDEO ARCHIVE—CREATURE INSIGHT 2703 MYRMIDON BATTLE POETRY *48
Ella: This is the battle poem, Shade. It looks like it’s etched onto the steel plate with the acid they use in their battle sprayers. I’ve never seen one in English before.
Shade: Read it out, please. I want to hear how it sounds.
Ella: I’m not sure how it’s supposed to be read…but I’ll give it a try….
A score of seven sevens Marched the mighty
To fight the foe Take the trees
A battle of bravery Red the raiment
Of diamond death Blue the baneful
A star falls suddenly War is won
Well, at least it’s understandable in English…but why only this one?
Shade: Breakdown in the Overlord’s integration of the human mind and the creature impression and patterning. They would have killed whoever wrote this as soon as they got back to the barracks. Amazing how the odd creature will retain some vestige of humanity. Which reminds me—we haven’t had one to vivisect for a long time. There’s still much to find out….
Ella: You’re sure there’s nothing left of the person when you cut it up? I mean, when I see things like this poem…
Shade: No. There’s nothing, Ella. They are just the enemy. That’s all. The enemy…
CHAPTER SEVEN
After a single, bewildering night in the Submarine, Gold-Eye found himself outside again soon after dawn the next morning. Under the finger wharf, up to his armpits in extremely cold seawater.
This time his rags were gone, replaced with the dark-green coveralls the others wore. From his wide leather belt a sword and other equipment hung, including a length of rope, added to the basic equipment after the team’s recent experience. His hair was also greatly changed; he had practically none left. Just a thin layer of fuzz remained after an electric razor had removed mont
hs of hair and matted dirt.
Ella, Drum, and Ninde were there too. Uncharacteristically quiet, in Ninde’s case. She stood as far away from Drum and Ella as she could and didn’t look up at anyone.
They waded in silence to the drain entrance, where Drum helped everybody up from below and then clambered up himself with the assistance of all three pulling on one thighlike arm.
“Okay,” said Ella, taking out her Myrmidon witchlight and squeezing it on. “Flashlights on? All working? Good. Now, we’re going to take the Main Drain to the Main Junction, then South Drain Twelve. We’ll have to count manholes from the junction—Ninde, I want you to do that to check me. We’ll exit at manhole twenty-seven, which is inside the University grounds.
“If we get separated for any reason, you’ve got two choices. If you’re not hurt and you think everyone else will make it, aim for the South Drain Twelve rendezvous. Otherwise, return to the Sub and report to Shade. Any questions?”
“Yes,” said Gold-Eye, mindful of Shade’s instruction that it was good to have questions. “How tell which drain?”
“Good question,” said Ella. “I forgot you’re new. Look over here.”
She walked a little farther up the drain, adjusting her stance to the curve of the tunnel and the patches of ambitious green slime that left the water to climb up the walls. About ten feet in from the entrance, she held the witchlight up to illuminate a bronze plaque.