by V Guy
“We beat him, of course. If we go down, we’ll have gone down victorious.”
“Didn’t know that was even possible.”
Darien pondered the evening. His first flagon was drained, to be replaced by another. “How’s home life?”
“Relaxing, confusing, encouraging, and frequently awkward. The peace is holding.”
“Malik?”
“Astonishingly gracious, considering my previous behavior.”
“And your sister?”
Serena frowned. “Rescued and recovering from slavery. Unfortunately, I’m not certain that conflict will end well.”
***
A disheveled, young boy darted through one of Spring City’s streets; evading legs, carts, and horses; enduring insults; and avoiding blows from the less patient of walkers. He made a quick left into an alchemist’s shop, careful to secure his cap as he entered, then scooted around to the right side of the counter. He pulled a note from his pouch, slapped it onto the eye-level counter, and looked expectantly at the man. The somewhat aloof, clean-cut alchemist peered at him and the note suspiciously, then read the offering.
He suddenly straightened and took a deep, restoring breath. “Go on back, boy.”
The child needed no prodding. He strode into the rear room, curiously examining items until he found a cubby full of scrolls. He unrolled them, first reading the strange script and then placing them into his pack. A side kick from a wealthy patron was deftly avoided after his return, and he made for the door.
He crossed the threshold, running ten city blocks and emerging from a side alley as a giant of a man—burly, bearded, and well-armed. People avoidance was unnecessary—they made ample room for the threatening, unwashed warrior. He walked one and a half blocks then shoved open a stiff, wooden door to enter a guild hall. A grunt and a nod were all that was necessary for access, and he rounded a turn to climb a set of steps. The person in authority rose to confront him, and he lay a hand on the other’s shoulder. Like the alchemist, the guild leader straightened and took a deep breath. He directed the warrior to a shelf behind him and went about his business.
The large man examined the cryptic scrolls one at a time, then moved them to his pack. He interacted with an ax-carrying man down the hallway in a similar manner then opened a nearby drawer to withdraw more scrolls. After a trip to the archery instructor and additional acquisitions, he returned to the main entrance and departed.
His next appearance was four territories to the east, and his next form was of a young woman hurrying into work, requesting numerous pardons until she arrived at the public entrance to a brewery. Like the fighter, people made room for her, but for entirely different reasons. She fairly danced to the bartender, spoke briefly, then touched his hand. His eyes widened, as if he suddenly awakened, and he motioned her onward. The man supervising the facility greeted her as she ascended the steps, then he responded as if refreshed when she kissed him on the cheek. He smiled, opened a file, then let her carry it somewhere to read. The folder was returned empty, and she lightly stepped to the main floor before strolling to the door. As with the others, she crossed the threshold, morphed, and ported elsewhere.
Her next appearance was closer to the western coast, a little distance inland at a high-fenced paddock. She was also back to being male—a lanky, long-haired, whistling, young man in soiled work clothes. He crossed to the next paddock, strode a narrow path between fences, then turned left to the main stables. Other stable hands acknowledged his presence, but the stable master was less receptive.
That attitude changed when the young man grasped his arm. The older man immediately viewed him in a different light. He motioned toward his newest acquisitions then pulled documents from his saddle bags. The odd text was again read with ease, the papers were refolded, and they disappeared to join the gathering trove of information in his pack. He strode confidently toward the fence and was immediately confronted.
“Where have you been?” asked Kroes angrily. “You’re impossible to find and even harder to track.”
Kilam continued his whistling and walking. “Thank you. That was rather the point.”
She hurried to keep pace. “What’s the rush? Why are you avoiding me?”
“You’re not the one I’m avoiding. There are of plenty of ways to contact me not involving Xist.”
“Xist is the most secure.”
A port later and they were back in the capital city. He was a slightly obese mage; she was an apprentice, wearing the sashes appropriate to her status. She stumbled after experiencing the transformation.
“The Coalition have new whips. I need them not to find me.”
They strolled along leisurely. If a stranger wouldn’t bother a warrior, they decidedly avoided prodding a magic user—there was no telling what one might get turned into.
“You had portal protections.”
He scowled. “The operative word is ‘had.’” He touched a pristine set of doors, which magically opened, and they strolled inward. A greeting to the acolyte at the front desk was tendered, and he moved toward the back.
“All this not to be found?”
“Absolutely.”
Conversations and scroll readings followed concerning every magical discipline taught at the guild. He made an unhurried return to the entrance and she silently followed, partially because she was curious and partially because she wished to continue on his tour. They reached the door and disappeared. They reappeared in the eastern mountains, both of them being appropriately armed and gendered as assassins.
“I need to talk to you,” she said, hustling to stay even with a female Kilam. Assassins wasted little time going places.
“We had our talk. Has something changed?”
They entered the training grounds, taking a path between stands of combat dummies and archery targets. They reached the main building and directly entered.
“You’ve been killing my people.”
“Some of them were guilty.”
Kilam reached the lead trainer, the woman glaring impatiently back until her shoulder was touched. Kilam moved immediately to a secure room and perused the awaiting documents.
“You killed them with Focus.”
“I did not,” said Kilam, making a snarl. “She” gathered the read scrolls and began depositing them into “her” pack. “But it would’ve been a poetic.”
“They’re overdosed,” said Kroes, scowling.
“Like I said, not killed, and only a few were afflicted.”
With the mission accomplished, they moved to depart the facility.
“You did the same to some of the council members.”
“Again, appropriate.”
Their next alteration involved no teleportation—they transformed into reapers and flew in an instant to their destination. Their forms granted them immediate entry. Upon landing they morphed to paladins, both switching genders.
“What?” Kroes looked about in confusion and stared at “himself.” “Where are we?”
“Regeneration center,” he replied, pointing.
They walked along a raised balcony. Below them were sixteen patient beds, four to a row. At the head of each bed awaited clerics. The empty beds were immediately filled by reapers bringing casualties from the front, the bodies were secured, and immediately the clerics began work. The next chamber showed similar occupancy, except that porters brought clothing, armor, and weapons suitable to the resurrected warriors.
Kilam motioned to them. “Scavengers comb the battlefield for gear, delivering the enemy’s items to research academies and taking the friendlies’ items to dedicated forges and metal smiths for repair. Magic users enchant them, they’re brought here, and the circle begins anew. I captured some of the new whips. Can’t use them, but I can study them.”
The next chamber revealed warriors standing and leaving. The following room was empty until reapers arrived with fresh battlefield prizes.
Kroes paused to study them. “Some of my people are behav
ing strangely.”
“You’re all a little off, and most of your behavior is outside normal.”
Kilam touched each of the supervising clerics, giving them boosts. There were no scrolls to collect, and when he was done at the center, they passed through another one of his created portals.
“I need you to stop for a moment,” said Kroes, grabbing Kilam’s arm and restraining him. Now they were both clean-cut, functionally dressed scholars, and she was back to being female.
“Why is there a problem? I said I’d get my retribution.”
“It’s a problem of governance.”
Kilam made a hearty laugh. “There is most assuredly a problem of governance. Every one of the older members is seriously biased by corporate interests. Events at Paradise, Catricel, and Salient were all motivated by greed, not by actual danger.”
“Company presidents have been overdosing on Focus,” she said through tight lips. “There wasn’t any more Focus, not anywhere. Where did you get it?”
“You didn’t sell it all.” He moved to a waiting apprentice and gave him the full pack. “If you truly wish to combat corruption, you’ll need to go all the way to the top of the food chain. Or you could join them—there should soon be openings.”
Her eyes alighted. “Tell me where you got it.”
“Or you’ll what?” asked Kilam, stopping to confront her. “Are we repeating that conversation, or did you wish to help with the drug’s distribution for a cut of the profits?”
Her lips narrowed and her expression hardened.
“Was it because you’re Central Security that you made the threat? You knew you weren’t obligated to keep your word. Was it because I hold no inherent rights? Or was it indicative of your personal character, and you never intended to keep your promises? Perhaps it was because you had an emotional outburst that effectively nullified every agreement between us?”
Kroes’s face turned deep red. “I would’ve kept my word.”
“You were telling the truth, I sensed it. How can I give credit to such fickleness? There’s a lot going on. There’s much at stake.”
She gritted her teeth. “My word is good, I assure you.”
“Until when?” he asked, moving to a table full of books. “You’ll get your names, don’t worry.”
“You can’t keep debilitating council members,” she said, her visage hard. “There are bigger concerns than yours.”
Kilam took a seat, turning back with defiance. “I can and I will, if I choose. Lucky for you, not as many as you believe have been afflicted. Another batch of corrupt council members will replace them and continue the terrible policies already in effect. Nothing will change. You’re in the clear.”
Kroes watched as he read, and her countenance turned frosty. “Stories are getting verified, and I’ll be forced to respond. Britton’s collection won’t be enough to save you; your current liberty will end.”
He released an impatient sigh. “I’m quite aware of that. I must examine the other civilian advances before another round of collecting. Is there anything else you require?”
She scowled and logged off.
***
Metric Jones entered Kilam’s inner sanctum, stopping at the railing to view the majestic, crystalline tree. Kilam had added significant detail to the large chamber that was both consistent with reality and obeyed Xist’s rules. The effect was astonishing.
Kilam turned from his creative console to see the director and groaned. “Is no place sacred?”
“You’re a hard character to find, morphing, porting, and masking on a whim. I’ve come to apologize; she found you. I wasn’t given a choice.”
Kilam made a tired huff. “It was a lot of effort for no reward. I can offer her nothing else.”
Jones gazed around the chamber in appreciation. “There’s an indescribable sense of depth here; it’s absolutely marvelous.” He returned his attention on Kilam. “Kroes is a dangerous woman, and much about your activities around Evaline is coming to light. If I can moderate or redirect the responses away from your termination, I will. No one plays the game like you, and I would very much like to keep you in it.”
61: Persistence
Day 899-930: Salient, Pathfinder
Malik knew the number, strength, and dispersal patterns of the mass adjusters from interrogating Endurance’s officers, and from his recent channel runs he established channel characteristics. Multiple models had been generated to simulate the channel, and their next effort would tell them which one was correct. Forty-four mass adjusters salted the channel. These alternated between ones that produced multiple gravities and those that nullified it, otherwise known as nodes and nulls. These shifted with the expansion and growth of the channel, and while the channel was the phenomena his crew would map, the adjusters were their ultimate targets.
They arrived at Salient around noon, confirmed the system center, and dropped beacons to set reference points. A full day, night, a following day, and another night of channel mapping followed. Interviews, new module construction, and nerve removal filled the weekdays, while trips to Salient filled the weeknights.
The next Newday and Monday night finished the system mapping. Tuesday night brought them their first search for the mass adjusters.
When they were initially activated, the channel split and branched, growing and expanding around Salient after the link to Nowhere was broken. These branches stacked and interweaved, rising to the outer surface of the barrier, spreading along its edge, then dropping back to be covered by another layer. Malik’s models reflected these tendencies, and the crew took the ship to a probable location of a gravity node. The sensor array’s focus was narrowed.
Malik settled to concentrate, generating a shield, opening a breach and stretching his mind forward.
“Begin an expanding spiral,” said Malik through the overhead. “Leave a five percent overlap over the previous track.”
Two hours after the start, he straightened. “Stop. We have a node.”
After another hour of concentration, he withdrew from his trance. “That was the twenty-fourth adjuster to be dropped. Take us to the next shallow node.”
The military had encoded the adjusters and had dropped them in a specific order. Node eighteen was located within two hours. Malik rose and stretched after directing them to the next one.
“Does it fit a model?” asked Selena.
“It fits variants of three different ones.”
Nodes eight and thirty-six were next, but finding them took them deep into the morning. Pathfinder was directed toward Evaline.
“Well?” asked Evelyn, rising as the ship made its return.
He rotated his joints to loosen them. “There are slight deviations, but one of the models roughly fits the four data points. The launches from the patroller didn’t quite meet the schedule.”
She grinned. “See? You did figure it out. All those excuses you made…”
He growled. “Don’t celebrate yet. We’ve only begun.”
Wednesday night brought them to the projected location for the end cap, or the node at the end of the chain. This node’s projected location placed it deep in the channels’ folds. The sensor array’s focus was further tightened, and Malik sought it for four hours.
“Forty-four,” he said through the overhead. “Will try to transition it from the substrate.”
Moments later, he rose and stretched. “It’s out. Now we wait.”
“Wait?” asked James.
He nodded. “Without the end cap, the channel will recede, consume the adjacent null, then stop at the next node. The entire structure of the split and coiled channels could change. We’ll be mapping it again.”
Evelyn groaned. “Evaline then?”
“We first recover the extracted mass adjuster. I’ve shut it down. Once it’s in hold two, secured by storage braces, we’ll depart.”
“We’re already here. Why not start the second mapping?”
Malik glanced beyond the ports. “
There’s no precedence for how long the channel takes to compensate. We’ll next spot-check three near-surface nodes, find and recover node forty-two, then wait for it to shift again.”
“This could take a while,” said Li, groaning. “Three days for each adjuster?”
“We’re preserving a few for later usage. The rest will be left and disabled the same way they were activated—on a timer.”
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday efforts completed another complete mapping, the eight additional modules added during the week noticeably accelerating their progress. Sunday’s efforts were extended, as the next node was out of position. Success eventually came. The new end cap was extracted from the channel, shut down, and brought on board. The adjuster was allowed time to warm to ambient temperature then shifted to cargo hold two.
Evelyn and Selena watched as the adjuster was secured into place with antigrav lifts. Li backed away, observing his handwork.
“Four days each,” he said, setting his hands to his hips, grimacing, and rolling his eyes. “That means only three more months. No problem.”
“He said it’d go faster,” said Selena, massaging his shoulder.
Evelyn sighed. “It’s time I doubt we’ll have.”
“The model is holding, and he makes adjustments with each new data set. I think he’ll create a shortcut to accelerate the process.”
“I dearly hope so,” said Li.
Selena crossed her arms, watching Li return to the bridge. “Give me an industrial simulation any day. Some of Malik’s theories and conclusions seem illogical.”
“I know,” said Evelyn. “I’m working on his calculations for creating the gap jumpers. They’re colossal and unwieldy—your nerve-trimming sessions are a major breather.”
They retrieved an adjuster again Wednesday, and this particular device consumed most of the night in their pursuit. Nonetheless, it was located, extracted, and captured. Another three nights of mapping after their daily tasks took them to the next Sunday, when the next node was found relatively quickly. The ship left the system and proceeded to other missions.