Warp World

by Kristene Perron

  “I wish there was something we could do,” she said.

  “There is something we can do, and we’re doing it. Now where was I?”

  “But we’re just sitting.”

  “Sitting is good. Sitting means they don’t need us. Sitting means they might be winning this crazy private war of the boss’s. When we stop sitting, you can worry, ’cause that means we’re in a world of ugly.”

  Ama frowned. She understood what Shan was saying but it still felt like inaction.

  Shan cleared her throat. “Now, as I was saying, the cliff was right over the kargin’ distillery.”

  Seg was happy to be out of the Council chambers, and anxious to return to the Keep. Gelad walked him and Arel down to the trans park at a fast pace, which was not brisk enough for Seg at this moment. Arel had a rifle slung over his shoulder, one more piece of luck for which Seg was thankful.

  Their destination was a scrapyard owned by Arel’s uncle, where a rental shuttle waited. There had been some resistance—the CWA had caused some problems for Bon Trant in the wake of Shan’s escape—but Arel had explained that his uncle only hated one thing more than Wellies and that was Wellies who interfered with his business. He had approved the hasty rental solely on principle.

  “They were a debt collection bunch that came after you,” Gelad said. “Their rider’s under coverage at the skypad, and the survivors are being interrogated.” He stopped and thumbed the authorization for a trans, then nodded his head toward the vehicle. “Guild security model, armored up like that ride Haffset sent you out in. It won’t stop a sniper with a high-velocity rifle or heavy weapons, but it’ll laugh at chacks.”

  “You’re authorized to give these away?” Seg asked.

  “GID asset and it’s been cleared for your use,” Gelad said. “Can’t authorize a rider for you, though. Not where you’re headed.”

  “This is enough,” Seg said.

  “I’ve arranged a rider,” Arel explained to Gelad. “It’ll be a far cry from a Guild shuttle, but it will get him to the Keep in one piece.”

  “There’s Storm sign, but your path is clear,” Gelad said. “Good luck, Theorist. Wish I was going in with you.”

  “Maybe next time,” Seg said.

  “Maybe.” Gelad called over his shoulder as he walked away. “There’s a couple of chacks in the storage box.”

  Arel pulled out one of the chacks and passed it to Seg, who checked the load and moved to the operator compartment.

  “I’ll drive,” Seg said.

  “Theorist Eraranat!” A familiar female voice demanded his attention.

  Seg turned to see a red-haired woman jogging to the trans, viscam in hand. Nallin Sastor was as put-together as always, though dressed more practically than when Seg had last seen her.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said, breathless.

  “I don’t have the time, Sastor.” Seg slid the trans door open and deposited the chack in the driver’s compartment.

  “You do have time, because I’m coming with you.”

  Seg pivoted his head toward her and offered his best get out of my space stare. When she didn’t flinch, he added, “We’re not going to a party. This isn’t a celebrity affair, Mer Sastor.”

  “You mean there won’t be any riots?” she asked.

  “Theorist,” Arel said from the rear compartment, “time.”

  Seg nodded without looking back. With his stare still fixed on Nallin, he jerked his head toward the rear compartment. “If there’s shooting, stay out of our way. We’re not responsible for your safety. And no transmissions without my clearance.” As she climbed in, he caught her eyes once more. “If you compromise us—”

  “Just as charming as I remember.” Nallin glanced to Seg before she examined her viscam. “Well?” She raised an impatient palm. “Drive, since you’re in such a hurry.”

  Seg pressed a finger to the ignition button and slid the door closed. He punched the pathway into the navigation system as Arel’s comm chimed.

  The trans whirred smoothly from its spot, the automatic controls guided them through the labyrinthe underground garage.

  Arel lowered his comm and, with a glance at Nallin, stretched forward to whisper to Seg.

  “Boss, we’ve got a problem.”

  Cerd’s thinned body of troops rounded the last corner to Fismar’s designated rendezvous, where all the remaining Kenda were gathered. Cerd let out a breath as he saw the outline of Trooper Shoon, one of Tirnich’s men.

  “Ground Lead,” he said as he approached Fismar, “my detachment is linked back up.”

  He saw the indicator lights blink into order as Fismar dragged Viren, Wyan, Tirnich, Prow, and himself into a side channel, away from the other men. They dropped into a tight huddle, crouched and circled around Fismar’s digifilm.

  “Okay, the Etis are using the ventilation shafts and they’re pulling strike-and-hide on us,” Fismar said. Amber dots pulsed at points of known contact. “Without the viscams, we’re going to have to pry them out the hard way. Cerd’s detachment’s taken a thirty percent hit, mine’s down twelve percent, but on a quick review of the footage I’m calculating that, conservatively, we’ve taken out over half their regular effectives. So we’re winning, but this is going to get uglier from here to finish. It’s knives in the dark, and you kargers were born with blades in hand. I want eyes on these sections.” Red dots pulsed on the map. “We’re going to push our way down and secure the living quarters after we get the central computer control and power chambers.

  “What about the women and kids?” Tirnich asked. “Aren’t we supposed to go after them?”

  “We’re on fallback plan. If we go for the hostages now, the Eti fighters will whittle us down to nothing. We need to get the defense knocked out before we go for the kill. I’m watching everybody. I picked you lot to lead for a reason. We’ve made ’em desperate and it’s showing. Now let’s put ’em down and give them the boot. Any questions?”

  “Yeah,” Wyan grunted. “Why are we standing here when we should be out hunting down the bastards who killed my men?”

  “Discipline and focus, Wyan. Now let’s kill some kargers. Ground Lead cleared.”

  Cerd rose up from his crouch and passed his chosen routes on to Tirnich and Wyan. “Stay tighter this time, Tirnich.”

  “Sorry about that, Mascom.”

  Cerd nodded as they set out once more.

  Tirnich’s squad led the way through the gloom of the Keep’s lower level, progress was slow but uneventful and Tirnich hung back in the middle of his men to monitor their pace, and ensure no one got too far ahead this time.

  Handlo and Slopper were on point, Tirnich watched as the men forged the path. His men. He smiled to think what his sister would think of that. Or Brin, who had thought he was too young for battle.

  At the next junction, Slopper raised a hand.

  “Trouble?” Tirnich whispered over the comm.

  “I hear something,” Slopper whispered back.

  Tirnich signaled the troopers to halt as he crept forward. Handlo was at Slopper’s side; together they swept their chacks across a small alcove.

  “It’s kids.” Slopper’s voice rose slightly. Lowering his chack, he darted forward, out of Tirnich’s sight line.

  “What’s happening?” Tirnich pushed his way to where Handlo stood, and the trooper pointed to the dark recess.

  Two small figures appeared in Tirnich’s visor. Children. The smallest clutched the hand of her companion, crying in frightened mewls. “Nen’s blood,” Tirnich said with a gust of relieved breath. “Slopper, come on. We can come back for them.”

  Slopper lifted his visor and spoke softly as he approached the pair of sniffling children, his hands extended. “Don’t be scared. We’re here to help you.”

  “Tro
oper Palk, pull back.” Fismar’s voice came across the squad frequency. “Tirnich, get him back from there, now!”

  “It’s just a couple of young ones, Lieutenant. Kids,” Tirnich said. “They’re real scared. Slopper’s just trying to calm them down.”

  “Follow your ord—”

  Fismar was interrupted by a shout.

  “Get back!” Slopper lunged forward.

  Tirnich registered the threat a second too late: the exposed wire, from whatever device had been strapped to the Etiphar child. Slopper tackled, wrapped the boy tightly in his arms, smothered him completely.

  A loud chumpf echoed through the corridor; the explosion shredded both man and boy.

  “Nen’s blood,” someone whispered.

  Tirnich froze in place for a split second. His hand went limp and his chack dropped to the ground. Then, as if struck by lightning, he charged to the spot where Slopper had stood moments earlier. “NO!” ripped from his throat and he dove to the ground. On all fours, hands reaching blindly through the rubble and gore, he searched.

  A cry caught his attention, and he spotted the youngest child, still alive but not unharmed. She writhed in the mess, one side of her face torn open from the blast.

  Tirnich scrambled to her side, ripped off his helmet, and ran a trembling hand over one exposed and bloodied little arm. The girl screamed at the touch.

  “Help her! Help her, help her …” His voice grew quickly hoarse.

  “Cerd, get your unit moving again. We’ve got Etis to kill.”

  Tirnich knew the voice in his ear but it meant nothing. This tiny girl, a girl just like his sister, was hurt. He had to save her, had to help her. He was blind, the air was full of dust, his hands and knees were wet. Where was Slopper? He talked to soothe the child as he scoured the rubble. What was he looking for?

  “Copy, Ground Lead.”

  Where were the voices coming from? Why was no one helping him?

  “Tirnich, we are moving. NOW!”

  Stunned, Tirnich looked around for the disembodied voice. “Gotta get her some help. She’s hurt.” He turned his attention back to the girl, who he could barely see without his visor. “Slopper? Where’s Slopper? Pica needs help.”

  “Tirnich, we have to get moving.”

  He looked up and saw his own face reflected in a visor. “Who?’

  “It’s Handlo, Squad Leader. We can— Later, we’ll come back later, okay? We’ve got to move.”

  “No! I’m supposed to protect him.”

  Tirnich fought as a hand grabbed the back of his harness and tried to pull him away.

  “LET GO OF ME!”

  With a jerk, he broke free and grabbed the girl, who immediately started to wail.

  “Shh, I’ve got you. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  “Get him away from her. Nen’s blood, someone help me!”

  The voice in Tirnich’s ear stopped but then the hands came, prying and pulling. He clung to her small hand until even that was yanked away. As hard as he tried to save her, hard hands held him back. “PICA!” Saliva sprayed from his lips. Someone was shaking him, shouting in his face.

  “That’s not your sister. You have to leave her!”

  “Handlo?” Tirnich blinked. He wiped his face, wet with tears or blood, he didn’t know which. “It’s not right.”

  “None of it’s right, but we’ve gotta move,” Handlo said.

  “Tirnich?” Cerd’s voice over the comm.

  Tirnich forced air in and out through clenched teeth. His body shook, beyond his control.

  Handlo pressed his face to Tirnich’s. “You have other men to protect.”

  Tirnich looked to Handlo, who nodded. “I’ll come back. I’ll come back.”

  He made no effort to wipe the tears that coursed down his cheeks as he accepted the helmet Handlo held out to him and pulled it back on. “Tirnich to Ground Lead, we’re moving. We’ll come back. I’ll come back.”

  Seg had abandoned the Guild trans a short distance from his destination. Now he looked down the hill to the rider pad inside the scrap yard. The facility was nothing more than a recycler heap, and the rider sitting in it looked entirely at home. Even if it could fly, which looked doubtful, there were complications.

  “I make ten hostiles,” he said to Arel.

  “Agreed.” Arel pulled down the scope of his rifle. “Ten we can see.”

  Nallin’s viscam was raised and already running. “Permission to broadcast, Theorist?”

  Seg glanced back. “No. Wait—”

  His comm vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the message as it came through, then smiled. He looked back down at the group waiting by his ride out of Cathind.

  “Yes. Broadcast. Let’s go talk to Efectuary Akbas.”

  As he walked, he slung the chack over his shoulder and his steps took on a swagger.

  Nallin recorded everything as she followed. In front of him, Akbas waited in her immaculate CWA uniform, eyeing the viscam with a scowl.

  “Efectuary Akbas, as much as I’d like to have this conversation with you, I have a ride to take,” Seg said. “Please remove your people from my path.”

  “Theorist Eraranat,” Akbas said. From her tone, it was obvious she would have addressed him less formally if it weren’t for Nallin and her viscam. “The CWA has a seizure notice filed against you. We’re here to collect you. Resist and—” She gestured to the armed agents and spoke loudly for Nallin’s benefit. “We are fully and legally authorized to take you by force.”

  “Two matters,” Seg said. “First, if you’ll check your notifications, you’ll see that the credit compliance clause of your seizure order has been satisfied, and therefore the order has been voided. Second …” He waved a hand in the air.

  From every side, men and women dressed in raider utilities rose from the scrap piles through which they had been creeping, their weapons trained on Akbas’s security detachment. Seg favored her with a humorless smile.

  “You really didn’t bring enough personnel to ensure compliance with your directives, anyway,” he said.

  Akbas was speechless as she took in the scene. She dug into her pocket and produced a digifilm. A few taps connected her to the CWA network and soon Seg could see the bad news was there, in bold print. Her two lips became a single line, straight and thin as the edge of a knife.

  “No,” she said, simply. “We won’t let you pull your tricks on us again.”

  Seg took two steps toward her. “Oh?”

  Akbas moved close enough to Seg that she could speak just above a whisper. “Listen, you smart-mouthed, unortho little karg.” Her eyes pierced him like icicles. “Put one foot on that rider and my agents have orders to open fire.”

  “Why wait? The People around you were with me at the temple. I know how far they’ll go. If you’re ready, I am. If you don’t take the moment here, Akbas, understand this: some day, I am going to come for you and I am going to crush you. And when I’m through with you, you’ll wish you were in the ponds.”

  “I have the CWA behind me, Eraranat. Who do you have? A few disgruntled raider curs? Some caj? Word is even the Guild doesn’t want you anymore. You’re a liability. All we have to do is wait. Your merry band of misfits will figure out who you are soon enough and then what?”

  “Strange how, with so little, I keep upsetting your every scheme. This conversation is finished. Make your decision, shoot or run. I’m ready.” Seg took a single step back and spread his arms wide.

  Akbas stared for a moment, weighing the risks. Her eyes moved to the raiders. Then to her own agents.

  “Enjoy your victory,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just remember, it’s only fuel on a very large fire.”

  With that, she backed away and called to her agents.

 
“We’re done here.” Akbas turned to face Nallin’s viscam. “Once more, Theorist Eraranat has exploited the hard work of others and the necessary protocol of our World for his own selfish ends. We must wait for justice, as the Thirty-first Virtue of a Citizen decrees.”

  The CWA contingent began filtering out. “Akbas,” Seg said. “You’ll risk everyone’s life but your own. You fight like you have something to lose, and that’s why you always do.”

  Akbas’s only reply was to turn her back and walk more briskly.

  Nallin followed her progress and then panned the viscam back to Seg before she powered it down. “Off the record, that woman is an abominable cunt.” She looked over at the rider. “So, now where are we going?”

  “I’m going to my new home,” Seg said. “I have more than fifty troops assaulting Julewa Keep and I intend to join them. I have the notion, however, that you’re not going to show any more sense of self-preservation or discretion than you have thus far, so—” He gestured to the dilapidated shuttle. “—get in. I have some business to tend before we go.”

  “Any business you want to talk to me about?” Her eyes darted to the viscam.

  “It’s personal.” He turned away from her and waved to bring in the scattered raiders. “Arel!”

  “Theorist,” Arel said as he proceeded toward the rider.

  “I need you here, in Cathind,” Seg said.

  Arel shook his head. “I can fight.”

  “I know you can, but I need your mind more than your chack. There are few People I can trust inside the shield now. We’re dealing with a new kind of war here.”

  Arel frowned but assented. “Understood. I’ll stand by.”

  He squared up and gave Seg a formal salute. Seg returned the gesture, then smiled at the sight of a fast-approaching Manatu. Lissil jogged to keep up with the big man’s ground-eating pace.

  “Manatu, good to see you. Business taken care of?”

  “Just like you asked,” Manatu said.