Dire : Wars (The Dire Saga Book 4)

by Andrew Seiple

  The hut was new. Hastily-woven from local brush, assembled on a frame back in the trees, far from the firing line. It said much for the Chamis that the first thing, absolutely the most important structure to them when they returned to their traditional land, was the Elders’ hut.

  But the three abused wretches in the cave also said much about the Chamis.

  I would judge both messages tonight and see which one won out.

  Four sets of eyes stared up at me, as I bowed to enter the hut, my armor filling it and forcing them back. I felt tired. It had been a long day, a long night, and a long goddamn week.

  I looked to Gulam, who studied my suit, eyes wide. To Paan, whose arms were crossed in defiance, but trembling slightly. I looked to stout Birin, who sat on the ground, looking down in pure shame.

  And I looked beyond them, to the shadows. To Jan, the oldest, who wheezed with every breath now. Her journey had not been kind to her. She looked twice as worn as I felt.

  “START TALKING,” I commanded.

  The light shifted. Behind me, Escala moved back, taking her illuminating fire away, leaving only shadows.

  “Dorothy,” Gulam said, and I winced. I’d liked him. Still did. “Will you not show us your face again?”

  “YOU LOOK UPON HER FACE NOW. THE OTHER IS HER MASK.”

  “Why?” Paan whispered. “Why were you here? What reason did you even have?”

  “A BRIEF STOP, A MOMENT IN TIME BETWEEN VIOLENCE AND DEATH. IRONIC, IS IT NOT? SHE WOULD HAVE DEPARTED AND YOU NONE THE WISER, IF YOUR LOVER HAD NOT JUMPED THE GUN.”

  Paan flushed, and dropped her eyes.

  “And now you are the living god of this island,” Birin said. “Escala thought you Maaya, at first.”

  “DIRE IS NO GOD. THE ONLY ONE SHE EVER MET WAS AN ASSHOLE.” I flexed my gauntlet, hearing the metal grind. “ONE GOOD PUNCH LAID HIM OUT.”

  The others looked at me, alarmed. True, Crusader had punched the god, not me, but I didn’t think they needed to know that.

  “Enough,” Jan said. “You looked inside the cave.”

  “YES.”

  “We watched you enter from the trees.” Jan bowed her head. “Now you know the shame of our tribe.”

  “START FROM THE BEGINNING.”

  Gulam sighed. “Times were hard, for many years. Corazon’s men were never satisfied with the catch. Always demanded more. But then a woman came, one day. She told us that she could ease our burden. Ease the demands. All she needed from us, was use of our caves, to guard her prisoners.”

  “PRISONERS.”

  “We thought so for a very long time. But they were strange, most of them.”

  Birin spoke. “Some were half-dead. Some were sick, covered in weeping sores. All were sick in the mind. Their eyes saw, but they did not look. Their ears heard, but they did not listen.”

  “And some had superpowers,” Paan concluded. “This woman was trafficking in metahumans. Damaged metahumans.”

  Worse than I’d thought.

  “WHAT BECOMES OF THEM?”

  “They go on the black ships.”

  The yachts. Which then went right back across the bay, and unloaded people into the resorts. The foreign-owned resorts.

  And things started to grate, pieces out of line. I’d thought the CIA was behind Corazon’s pet metahumans, but this didn’t fit. I’d already considered and rejected the resorts as a CIA front.

  Which left only one player in this sick little game.

  “THIS WOMAN. WAS SHE SHORT? WEARING GLASSES? A BIT PLUMP?”

  “Yes.”

  Spetta. Maestro M’s Greed, his representative on the island. She’d have the clout to talk down the government agency milking the Chamis, and in exchange the trafficking operation kept on going through the least-likely people anyone would suspect.

  “HOW MANY PEOPLE?”

  “Many,” Gulam said. “I have the feeling this was happening before we were a part of it.”

  Only a few went to Corazon, then. The rest? Waiting in the resorts, hidden among tourists, and shipped out through the cruise ships that docked here every other week or so.

  This had taken pull to set up. Wealth, influence, and a hell of a lot of work. It was an operation that couldn’t risk even the slightest exposure... which explained why it was running in backwards Mariposa. Until I’d given its infrastructure a super-science kick in the shorts, phones were pretty much inoperable here.

  All the better to keep a tourist from snapping the wrong picture at the wrong time.

  “We argued, once. Among ourselves.” Jan spoke again. “I told her we could not keep doing this. She laughed. Said it was too late now. She could end us with a word, and we would deserve it.”

  “THE ROCKET BARRAGE WAS TO TIE UP LOOSE ENDS. IT WASN’T ABOUT YOUR LAND AT ALL.”

  “Some of it probably was,” Paan said, her glasses glinting in the weak light. “But I knew they would eventually run out of use for us. This was an opportunity to silence us, hide our secret and theirs.” She sagged, leaning on Gulam for support. “This is why I called in Damiano. I hoped he could protect us.” She took off her spectacles, looked up to my mask. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but this was why I was an ass to you and Benny and Mary, Dorothy. I thought you were innocents. I wanted to annoy you until you left.”

  “NOT MITCH OR COLLEEN?”

  “They were CIA. We needed to negotiate with them if we were to survive.”

  “BENNY AND MARY ARE INNOCENTS. HOPEFULLY THEY’RE OUT OF THIS.”

  “So now you know,” Birin said. “What will you do?”

  I turned my head, as I thought. “YOU MADE A DEVIL’S BARGAIN. BUT YOU TRIED TO LEAVE IT. YOUR SHAME SHALL REMAIN YOUR PUNISHMENT. NEXT TIME DO NOT BARGAIN WITH DEVILS.”

  The tension in the hut ebbed. Gulam sighed, Birin sagged, and Jan bowed her head. “Thank you, Empress.”

  I shook my head. “CALL HER DIRE. YOU HAVE EARNED THAT RIGHT AND SHE WILL NOT BE EMPRESS FOR MUCH LONGER.”

  “You know our allies want you, right?” Paan said. “We can’t stop them. You’re a symbol, now.”

  “AH YES, THE UNITED STATES. DO NOT CONCERN YOURSELF THERE. SHE HAS A FEW CARDS YET TO PLAY.”

  “What now?” Gulam asked.

  “NOW...” I turned my back, looked out to Escala. The woman had lit a fire, and stared at it now. She’d rightly concluded that there wouldn’t be any more assaults tonight, so it was worth the risk. “A QUESTION. HOW DO THE METAHUMANS ARRIVE? BY TRUCK, YES?”

  “Yes.”

  “WHERE DOES THE TRUCK COME FROM?”

  Gulam shook his head. “We are not sure. Some place up in the eastern hills.”

  Another piece fell into place, collided with a few other clues, and spun off into a wave of theories. I gasped to contemplate them, and shut them out one by one until only the most likely remained.

  And oh boy, it was a doozy. No wonder the CIA was trying to kill me. But one more thread dangled...

  “THE METAHUMANS WHO CAME THROUGH HERE. DID ANY OF THEM EVER HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH SNAKES?”

  They looked at each other. Finally, Birin nodded. “One. Serpents dropped from her lips as she babbled, but they died shortly after.”

  “BRIGHT GREEN? GLOWING RED EYES?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  I closed my eyes. The full picture was complete, and the CIA deserved only half the blame I’d given it. The snakes hadn’t been their fault. That part had been Maestro M’s play all along.

  And now I thought I knew why.

  “A STABLE METAHUMAN FARMING METHOD.” I chewed my lip. “HE’S CRACKED THE CODE. BUT IF SO, THEN WHY HASN’T HE DONE MORE?”

  “More?” Jan asked.

  “METAHUMANS ARE FLASHY. THEY GET NOTICED, THEY MAKE RIPPLES. POWERS HAVE CONSEQUENCES. BUT HOW MANY PASSED THROUGH HERE? A FEW A WEEK ADDS UP TO HUNDREDS A YEAR, THOUSANDS IN A VERY SHORT TIME. WITH AN ARMY OF METAHUMANS, EVEN LOW-POWERED ONES, YOU COULD ACCOMPLISH DAMN NEAR ANYTHING YOU WANTED. THIS IS WHY VERY BAD
ORGANIZATIONS HAVE BEEN TRYING TO FARM METAHUMANS FOR OVER A CENTURY.” Some had tried magic, some used technology, but invariably such attempts either failed, drew too much attention from the powers-that-be, or blew up in the originator’s face.

  Good thing too, or the world would be pretty much fucked. The first conspiracy, nation, or well-funded ruthless bastard to crack the code would probably end up conquering or destroying most of the world. Maybe all of it.

  “Then you do not quite understand, yet.” Jan rasped.

  “NOT YET. BUT SHE HAS ENOUGH TO KNOW HER NEXT FEW MOVES.” I turned back to face the elders, looked between them. “CURIOUS.”

  “What is curious?” Paan asked.

  I pointed at Paan. “YOU’RE AN ELDER IN TRAINING.” I swept my finger to Gulam. “YOU KEEP TRACK OF THE PEOPLE OF THE TRIBE.” I nodded to Birin. “YOU LOOK AFTER THE POSSESSIONS, KEEP TRACK OF THINGS.”

  “And me?” Jan said. Her voice sounded warmer.

  “DIRE DOES NOT KNOW. BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT, HERE.”

  “I look after their souls.”

  Ah. “YOU MUST HAVE HAD A ROUGH TIME OF THAT.”

  “Yes,” she said. She settled back into the corner with a sigh. “It will be easier after this, though.”

  “WHY IS THAT?”

  She smiled a toothless smile. “Perhaps you are not Maaya, but I think you will burn down the demons in the night with your golden light, so the end result will be the same.”

  I chuckled. My distorted mirth filled the hut, and sent birds screaming from the trees.

  Jan continued, and I shut up to hear her quiet, ancient voice. “And Paan’s first lover will reunite the island, and mend the rift between Chamis and Maris.”

  “He is my husband, not my lover, Jan.”

  “Peh! If you have not loved him yet then you are missing out, girl. That rump!” Jan smacked her lips. Paan glared. “Besides, you should not bring this monogamy nonsense into the tribe. Tribes who get started with that shit go and turn into nations, then everything goes downhill. Best to make love as the gods intended; often and with anyone you want.”

  Paan facepalmed. I stifled another chuckle. I’d missed the Chamis so.

  But it was true what they said, you really couldn’t go back. They had things to do, and so did I. “SHE WILL LEAVE YOU, THEN.”

  Jan struggled to her feet. Gulam moved to help her, but she waved him off. Finally she limped over to me, laid her withered hands on my suit’s chest. “Go with our blessing, Dorothy. It was good to have you here. We shall not speak again.”

  My eyes itched and I blinked back tears.

  For once, I was leaving a group of friends alive, well, and with no regrets.

  I didn’t trust my voice, and there was nothing more to say. I turned and left. Escala watched me go with burning eyes...

  ...and a sudden impulse made me turn. “MALLY. SHE LIVES?”

  “Yes. She is sick, but the Americans are caring for her now. They say she will live. They are fitting her for a machine hand when she is well again.”

  No, no regrets whatsoever. “FARE WELL.”

  “Farewell.”

  I flew back to Mariposa City, out of the jamming zone, and immediately my vox chattered. “Doctor? Everything okay?”

  “She’s fine, Alpha. Got a whole lot of answers. We’ve got a long night ahead.”

  “Answers?”

  “Yes. Maestro M’s been more of an asshole than we thought.”

  “That’s saying a lot. He’s been pretty assholey. Assholish?”

  “Never mind the semantics. Need you to do two things for me...”

  After a brief discussion, I landed in the remains of my palace. The upper levels were pretty much a wash, but after shifting the rubble around, I found that the lower levels were still solid; including a bolthole with stores, a few cots, and basic plumbing that still functioned. Shucking out of the armor I toweled off, rolled onto a cot, and tried to get some sleep.

  Though it was much later, it seemed like almost no time at all had passed when I woke to Alpha calling me.

  “Boss? Boss, come on. Hey Boss! Boss says what?”

  “What?”

  “Hey, it worked. Último’s up.”

  “And the files?”

  “Got some likely cabinets now. The guard-bots are looking through them.”

  “Remember, they’ll be within the last few months.”

  “Doesn’t help much. These are human-filed records, so they’re not exactly orderly. But I’ll let you know if we find’em.”

  “You will.” I threw on my traveling mask, and headed up and out. Guard bots fell in around me, and I belatedly remembered to activate the forcefield. I didn’t think anyone would be trying for me right now, but I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance at this point. So much on the line, the last thing I needed was bad luck at the wrong time.

  I found Último sitting on the only remaining intact stone bench, out in the courtyard. He was still wearing his hero’s costume, and had dug up a basic domino mask from somewhere. The guy stood as I approached, but I waved him down and sat next to him on the bench. “ALPHA?”

  “Boss?”

  “WHITE NOISE, IF YOU PLEASE.”

  Every guard bot within three hundred feet crackled and burst into static, the roar of a poorly-tuned radio.

  “NOW WE CAN TALK PRIVATELY.”

  El Hombre Último took a breath. “Thank you for saving me. I thought I was dead.”

  “YOU’RE WELCOME. WHERE IS SEÑOR ACERTIJO?”

  “I am no sure.”

  “NOT SURE,” I corrected. “WHAT HAPPENED, THEN? TELL HER THAT.”

  “We were talking in his lair. He’s got this old factory in Barrio del Flores. It’s all like secret passages and shit. I been training there.”

  “AND MARIA SPETTA WAS STAYING WITH YOU.”

  “Yeah! Where is she? That Alpha won’t tell me nothing.” He leaned over, and even with his mask on, I could see worry etching his face.

  I debated several answers, decided to give him half the truth. “SHE DIDN’T MAKE IT. SORRY.”

  He stood, so fast that he nearly toppled the bench. I fought to stay upright, managed to get it under control.

  “How?” He barked.

  I stood as well. “IN TIME. TELL HER WHAT YOU REMEMBER.”

  He shook his head. “Somehow, people got in. He said the Maestro had sent his men to take us. We got ready to fight. It went well for a time. We fought like we’d trained. I took them down like crazy, man. Ain’t nothing they could do to me didn’t go right back to them. Then one jabbed me with a needle.” He flexed his arm. “Weird feeling. His arm started bleeding, but the needle was still in mine, you know? Next thing I know I’m waking up in a hospital, with your robots all around.”

  “THAT’S IT?”

  “Pretty much.” He stared at me, and I saw his hands shaking, just a bit. “Now what happened to— to Maria? Please?”

  I turned. “THE MAESTRO’S HOOKS WERE DEEPER THAN WE THOUGHT. DIRE USED A DRONE TO RESCUE YOU. AND MARIA SHOT YOU AGAIN. BUT SHE WAS THE NEAREST PERSON.”

  Último took a breath, let it out. I watched his face twist into loathing, before he turned away in shame. He balled up a fist, slammed it into a wall, and I gasped as my hand burned with pain. “CAREFUL!” Ow ow ouch, that was gonna bruise.

  “This curse,” he whispered. “I’m cursed. I kill everyone that matters to me. Everyone close to me.”

  “POWERS CHANGE PEOPLE’S LIVES,” I said, moving to his side, and putting my hand on his shoulder. “NOT ALWAYS FOR THE BETTER.”

  “I couldn’t save her. I can’t save nobody. What the fuck kind of use am I?” He wrenched the mask from his face, threw it to the ground. I watched the tears run down into his mustache, as he leaned on the wall. And I leaned on him, let him sob.

  The minutes rolled by, and after he’d subsided a bit, I spoke again. “WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE SOMEONE, FOR A CHANGE?”

  “How?”

  “YOU TOLD
DIRE THE THING SHE NEEDED TO KNOW. THAT THE MAESTRO HAS ACERTIJO.”

  “But where? You got a magic tracking device in that armor of yours?”

  “NO. BUT SHE KNOWS HOW THE MAESTRO OPERATES, AND SHE KNOWS WHAT KIND OF ASSETS HE HAS AROUND HERE. ALPHA?”

  “Yeah, boss?”

  I’d seen Señor Acertijo unmasked before, in his civilian identity. I pulled up the footage from the interview with the press, singled him out, and gridmailed it over to Alpha. “SEARCH THE PASSENGER ROSTERS OF THE INCOMING LUXURY LINERS FOR THE NEXT MONTH. SEE WHICH ONE HE’S BOOKED ON.”

  “Uh... going to need permissions to operate outside of the island for this. You okay with that?”

  A week ago I wouldn’t have been. But he’d more than earned my trust, since those early days of his captivity. “ABSOLUTELY. SURU, RELEASE BINDINGS, CODE OMNICRON.”

  “Oh my... oh my! I’m back, baby!” Alpha cheered, as Suru did her thing.

  We didn’t see a bit of it, of course. But I imagine for any nearby online entities, it was quite the show.

  “Out and hacking now, and... got it. Reservation made tonight, actually, on the Nova Star line. Luis Amontillado.”

  “CUTE.”

  “That is not Señor Acertijo’s name,” Último said, puzzled.

  “THE NAME DOESN’T MATTER,” I replied. “MAESTRO M IS A GLOATER, AND ACERTIJO’S BEEN A THORN IN HIS ORGANIZATION’S SIDE FOR YEARS. HE’LL HAVE HIM SHIPPED OUT SO HE CAN KILL THE GUY PERSONALLY AFTER TAUNTING HIM FOR A WHILE. SO HE HAS ACERTIJO CAPTIVE, AND IS FAKING A PAPER TRAIL SO HE LOOKS LIKE ANY OTHER TOURIST. AND SINCE HE’S GOING OUT BY THE USUAL WAY THE MAESTRO MOVES HIS HUMAN TRAFFICKING VICTIMS, THAT MEANS HE’LL BE IN ONE OF THE RESORTS OVER IN DEL SOL. ALPHA?”

  “On it. Whoa, this is unusually good security.”

  “BE CAREFUL.”

  “Got him! He’s staying in the Solaria lodge. Room 722.”

  “NEAR THE TOP. THEY AREN’T TAKING ANY CHANCES. NOT THAT IT’LL MATTER.”

  “They put him in a luxury hotel?” Último asked.

  “THAT’S HOW THEY SHIP OUT THE PEOPLE THE SIN-DICATE SELLS. BLENDING IN WITH THE OTHER TOURISTS, ONCE THEY’RE SANE ENOUGH TO NOT ATTRACT TOO MUCH NOTICE.”

  “There’s no way Señor Acertijo wouldn’t try to escape.”

  “HE’LL EITHER BE DRUGGED, REPROGRAMMED, OR THREATENED WITH THE DEATH OF INNOCENTS IF HE TRIES. MAYBE ALL THREE.”