Warp World

by Kristene Perron

  “Those men, they’re not really going to take your job away, are they?”

  “Don’t care if they do. There’s always work for rider pilots,” Shan said, but there was a dispirited tone to her voice that belied her swagger.

  “What’s it like to fly?” Ama asked.

  “It’s everything. Sky’s a big place. Open. Not like here. You got room up there. Freedom.” Shan gazed upward for a moment. Where everyone else saw the shield, in her mind’s eye she could always see the sky. Feel it, almost.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ama was staring up as well, eyes full of longing. It was an expression she recognized—she had seen it in the eyes of grounded pilots.

  “What the karg are you doing out here, by the way?” Shan asked.

  “I’m on my way to Old Town, where my people are.”

  “On your own? Not smart. Besides, Old Town slideway’s shut down. Storm’s got everything closed down.”

  “There’s no other way across?”

  “Nope, you got to wait it out,” Shan said.

  “How long?”

  “’Til morning, probably.” She walked a few more steps before she noticed Ama had stopped. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Ama said, but her face told a different story. She glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at Shan. “Morning?”

  Shan nodded. Ama looked around and Shan knew what she saw—streets full of potential trouble, full of People who could be as bad as Grenerk and his goons. Or worse.

  “Maybe I should go back home,” Ama said.

  “How?”

  “On the autotrans; the same way I came here.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen. Sneaking into the RQ is one thing, but they don’t just let anyone into the Guild Compound, fancy coat or not. You need a pass, and don’t look at me ’cause I am the last Person they’d give one to these days. You didn’t think this out too well, did you?”

  Ama shuffled from foot to foot, staring downward. “I guess I’ll wait at the slideway for the Storm to pass and cross over as soon as it opens again.”

  “Straight down that way.” Shan pointed. “Turn left at the big recycler depot and keep walking.”

  “Left at the recycler. Thanks.”

  “I’m going that way.” Shan pointed in the opposite direction. “So—” She shrugged, pivoted on her heel, and walked away.

  About a half a block later, she glanced back; Ama hadn’t moved. She turned back and kept walking for a moment before halting and reversing course. “Not my problem, stupid caj should have known better.” She looked up at the shield and scowled. Sad commentary on the state of the World, the closest thing she had to a friend right now was some idiot ungrafted Outer.

  “Okay, look,” she said, as she approached, “you can come back to my place until the Storm clears or Eraranat notices you’re—” She paused and stared.

  “What?” Ama asked.

  Shan stepped up closer and looked Ama up and down, “You’re a bit taller but I could fit you into one of my flight suits. We could hide the—”

  She gestured to her neck with her finger, to indicate Ama’s gills.

  “—with the helmet and collar. It’s crazy but it’s not like you’d have to do anything but work the stick.”

  “The stick?”

  A grin stretched across Shan’s face, the pain in her jaw forgotten. “How’d you like to do something to pay back the debt you owe me for saving your hide and get out of this dump at the same time?”

  Ama cocked her head. “You’re not trying to pull the skins on me, are you?

  “Pull the what?” Shan asked, her face twisting. “No, don’t even explain what that means, it’s probably something disgusting your people do around fires. Seriously, I need help with something. Best of all, you get to fly.”

  “I can fly?” Ama asked, her face breaking into a hopeful smile.

  “You can ride while I fly, but you’ll be up front, right there where you can see everything.”

  “Yes!” Ama jumped up at the word.

  “Calm down, keep your collar up,” Shan said. “There’ll be a bit more sneaking, but the unit I work for, well, I could slip one of your Outer airships past them and they wouldn’t notice.”

  She considered warning Ama about the consequences if things went wrong but the chances of that were almost non-existent and from the look on the girl’s face she knew nothing would scare her off. Stupid and crazy; maybe this caj wasn’t such bad company after all.

  “Let’s get back to my place and I’ll tell you what you’ll have to do while we wait out the Storm.”

  “Wait!” Ama placed a hand on Shan’s shoulder in that too-familiar way of touching many Outers had. “What if Seg calls your comm before the Storm clears?”

  Shan shrugged off Ama’s hand, pulled the comm from her pocket, and held it up so she could see. She pressed a button on the side and the glow of the screen went black.

  “What comm?”

  Akbas swept the CWA’s Orientation Room with a cold gaze. A dozen notable faces were taking in the splendor of the room with its rare and expensive decorations. Ornamental caj flowed between them, carrying platters of taste-whets and drinks.

  There.

  She slid through the crowd toward her chosen target, a young woman (young-looking, that was), with garish red hair and a suit that fit too tightly.

  “Nallin Sastor!” Akbas said, feigning excitement. “Efectuary Jul Akbas, your Media Guidance for this visit.”

  It was a role beneath even her current diminished position, but one that she had specifically arranged for herself, for this very opportunity. Around them, the other media figures were greeted by their assigned Guidances. To Jul Akbas, newschatterers had always been interchangeable—talking heads designed to put a human face on the information delivered to the World’s population. Information that was designed, vetted, and phrased to suit the purposes of those in power. But this talking head had managed a seemingly impossible feat, an interview with the Theorist brat, Eraranat, and that could make her a valuable asset.

  Nallin stood and offered her own enthusiastic greeting. “Efectuary, this is an unexpected honor.”

  “Certainly, but we here at the Authority value our media relations, unlike other more distant institutions. Would you join us on the viewing balcony?” Akbas asked.

  As anticipated, Nallin’s face expressed genuine surprise. “Who could decline such an offer? I’d be delighted.”

  Akbas’s campaign continued, as she placed a hand on Nallin’s shoulder and directed her away from the crowd. Such informality made her cringe but she had built a career on personal sacrifice and there would be more to come if she hoped to regain her status with Director Fi Costk.

  She paused long enough to collect a drink from a passing caj, then led Nallin down the path to the viewing balcony. A massive structure, designed to accommodate more than a hundred citizens, the platform offered a breathtaking panorama of the city of Orhalze, laid out in neat, geometric precision and extending toward the shimmering horizon of the shield that protected them all. The morning light illuminated the shield and everything glowed a brilliant copper.

  “We don’t get to come here often enough,” Akbas said. “So much work to protect the World from external threats. And internal threats, as well.”

  “Incredible!” Nallin gasped as she gazed out over the city, from a height most People would never ascend in their lifetime. “Do you mind?” She produced a small viscam recorder.

  “That’s why you’re here. If you would like some of the decoration in the picture …” Akbas gestured toward the exotically ornamented caj who waited by the wall.

  “Perfect.” Nallin nodded.

  Akbas motioned to the Handler and two of the caj were hurried into position.

&
nbsp; Nallin panned the viscam across the room, stopping to focus on the view framed by the decorations. “You’ll have to forgive the hesitation, Efectuary. Most of my work has been in Cathind; the Guild is a bit less generous with access to their facilities.”

  “Oh, you’ll find we are quite different from the Guild, in many ways.”

  “You mentioned threats, Efectuary, do you see many threats to the CWA? Aside from the Storm, of course.”

  “Threats to the World, which are threats to the CWA,” Akbas said. “There are always threats. Houses and institutions that plot for their own gain over the needs of Citizens. Individuals who seek to place themselves above our society for their own selfish gain. Those who would abandon the Virtues of Citizenship. We must be ever-vigilant, Mer Sastor.”

  “Indeed. And well put, though I’d expect nothing less from someone of your stature.” Nallin pointed the viscam at Akbas. “If I may be bold, I’m curious about your thoughts on the Eraranat raid. Since we’re discussing the needs of our World.”

  “Proof that even the largest fool can be lucky. Once.” She slapped her empty glass onto a tray held by a waiting caj, nearly upending it. “Your impression of Mar Eraranat?”

  Nallin paused, and Akbas monitored her reaction to the informal Mar, in place of Eraranat’s proper title of Theorist.

  “Reckless,” Nallin said at last. “Of course, his raid did provide valuable stocks of vita, and any loyal Citizen must be grateful for that.”

  So far, it was impossible to guess the woman’s true feelings, but Akbas suspected there was no real deception at hand. Newschatterers and visentertainers were bred to please their audiences and parrot the opinions of others.

  “I met him, you know,” Nallin said. “Eraranat.”

  “We saw. Yes. As for the vita recovery, however, that was more the valor of raiders than any genius on Eraranat’s part. We witnessed him at his power-grabbing worst during the raid planning sessions.”

  Shifting tack, she turned toward Nallin and placed a hand on her arm. “You know, we’ve long felt that media presentation was an ill-respected craft among otherwise knowledgeable Citizens.”

  “That puts you squarely in the minority,” Nallin said.

  At last, the real face was appearing.

  “An unfortunate state of affairs, but one I would like to rectify in some fashion,” Akbas said. “Your work brings you into contact with a great many people, Mer Sastor. A great many influential, powerful people who, I would expect, tend to speak candidly in your presence. After all, you broadcast nothing that is not pre-vetted and authorized.”

  “All true.” Nallin flashed a knowing smile. “What are you suggesting, Efectuary? Please, feel free to speak candidly yourself.”

  “I am suggesting that you could find the respect and compensation you deserve if interesting affairs that do not merit broadcast were brought to our attention. To my attention,” Akbas said.

  Nallin went silent and, in that moment, Akbas knew she had reached past the professional façade.

  “I understand you perfectly.” Nallin offered the faintest trace of a smile.

  “Excellent! Now, let’s resume our tour.”

  Shan brought Ama onto the tarmac by the recessed hangar entrance. She had never been so glad to see morning and the Storm couldn’t have chosen a better time to move on. Ground crews and flicon would be changing shifts shortly, but those who were on duty now would be bored and weary after a long night with no flights to monitor or fuel.

  “Collar up, voice down,” Shan reminded Ama as they walked. “Don’t speak unless somebody speaks to you, and then it’s Yes mar and No mer. Don’t volunteer anything.”

  “Yes mar.” Ama’s reply was muffled by the flight helmet.

  “Mer, mer, women are mer, for the last time. You’re gonna get us caught, you karging Outer,” Shan said. “Men are mar, women are mer. Now slow down and stop weaving around so much. We talked about this.”

  “I feel dizzy. It’s hard to see where I’m going,” Ama said.

  “Look, you get caught here and it doesn’t matter if you’re Eraranat’s property, you’re still getting confiscated and grafted,” Shan said. She made no effort to hide her irritation. “Just stay calm.”

  Without the air feed from the rider, Shan knew the helmet would be disorienting and suffocatingly hot—running cadets through obstacle courses with their helmets on had been her old combat instructor’s favorite drill— but they couldn’t risk exposing Ama’s face.

  “We’re almost there,” Shan said as they made their way across the tarmac toward the riders. In a better outfit, this wouldn’t have been possible. Real units had real security, instead of these lazy kargers who could be distracted or bribed. She had passed Ama off as a trainee, with a convoluted story to cover her missing ID, and with laughable ease. Working with these morons it was pure luck she hadn’t been killed yet.

  The Mactel AAV 15 air/ground assault craft Shan had been assigned for Stormwatch duties was the ultimate in flight technology … forty years ago. They were still reliable machines, durable and quick, which made them ideal for survey work in the dangerous and ever-shifting environment at the Storm-edge. But the Mactels in this unit had been used hard extrans, and most were only a few years away from the recycler. Cheap goods for the cheapest rental unit in Cathind.

  At fifty feet long, the Mactel was dwarfed by the gunships and troop transports that Shan had been assigned to prior to Eraranat’s raid. In its own past, the Mactel would have ruled the skies on extrans raids. Now, the multiple hardpoints for weapons were empty, replaced by a single recon/sensor package that was about eight feet long and mounted on the centerline. And while functional parts of the rider had been as well maintained as budget allowed, its job description meant the aesthetics had been long-neglected. The mottled tan body and garish green stripes counteracted the otherwise sleek and angular shape. Shan never looked at the Mactel without considering that is was likely the ugliest piece of flying machinery she had laid eyes on, on any world.

  She clomped up the ladder at the rider’s side, opened the hatch, and waved Ama up. “Climb in, right-hand seat, sit down and don’t touch anything.”

  Ama stumbled forward. Shan sucked in a breath as the girl’s hands flailed and nearly smacked into the instrument panel before she finally slipped into the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Son of a whore!” Ama cursed.

  “Touch nothing,” Shan said, and backed down the ladder.

  She walked around the rider, inspecting the control surfaces. One hand held the digifilm with the pre-flight sequence and the maintenance report; the other checked the inlets and elevons.

  “You still got the caj?” a familiar voice asked, and she looked up to see Grenerk and his two brainless partners ambling across the tarmac in their crew uniforms.

  “She’s locked up at my place,” Shan lied, deliberately keeping her eyes away from the cockpit. Crat and Ven spread out and loomed over her.

  “Who’s your copie?” Grenerk jerked his thumb to the co-pilot seat.

  “Trainee,” Shan said, nonchalantly, she hoped, as her stomach knotted. “Why? Hatterin promote you to Wing Lead or something? Or maybe you want me to tell WL Sempon they’re not doing their job?”

  “Friendly question is all.” Grenerk’s eyes lingered on the cockpit a moment longer before he returned his attention to Shan. “Waited all night, Eraranat never got back to me. You didn’t just call him and get the reward for yourself, did you?”

  “Any claim you had you lost when this waste of oxygen went after her.” Shan jerked a thumb at Crat.

  “We found her, and I’ll make sure he knows about it.”

  “You don’t even have his comm. Now get out of my way. I’m bid in for Stormwatch, we need to know if this one’s going to curl back around to the city again, and I’ve got a ne
w recruit to break in. So, unless you got something about this rider that I need to know, you’re holding up the work.”

  Grenerk stepped closer to Shan. “Treat your ground crew better if you want your riders working right.”

  Ven let out a high laugh behind him, and Crat grinned at the threat. Shan stepped forward until she was close enough to smell the bits of morning meal still lodged in Grenerk’s jutting teeth.

  “Anything ever falls off a rider I’m on, you better make sure I don’t survive. Because I will come back here and I will kill you, Grenerk, even if I have to crawl across the wasteland on my hands and knees.”

  Grenerk glared, then grabbed his crotch and shook his genitals vigorously before he turned away. The pair followed him off and Shan relaxed slightly.

  “Great,” she said as she finished the flight checks. Now she had to watch the service crews on top of everything else. “This better work,” she muttered, and climbed into the rider.

  “Are they gone?” Ama asked.

  “For now.”

  Shan ran up the controls. The rider hummed to life around them, and she hooked up the air-feed to Ama’s helmet. Cool air flowed into the mask and the layer of fog cleared from the girl’s visor.

  As she tugged on her own helmet, displays in front of her shimmered to life, a veritable forest of information, a hundred different items to monitor.

  “Whoa!” Ama brushed a hand in front of her visor.

  “What are you doing? Quit squirming around, somebody’ll see you.”

  “There’s stuff, in my helmet,” Ama said, her voice clear now that they were both hooked into the in-ship comm system.

  “That’s the tac display. It’s normal and it won’t hurt you. It’s just tech, not magic or gods or whatever your people were into. Ignore it. Now remember, don’t touch anything, just like I told you.”

  “Tac display,” Ama repeated. “How do you remember what all these buttons and switches are for?”

  “Training. Lots and lots of training. I mean, what did you do on your world?” Shan asked as she flipped switches and made entries on her digifilm.