by RD Hale
A flashback of the leopard encounter makes my throat twinge as a wall of foliage opens to reveal a leafy shelter. Jardine parks inside the crude structure, beside a jeep presumably left by the mysterious co-conspirators we are about to meet. The sparseness of the cramped interior confirms this is not where we will be staying.
As Ivor clanks onto dirt I peer for any sign of a threat which does not materialise, but paranoia lingers and I exit the vehicle with my fading senses in feline-spotting mode. My bodyguards provide little comfort because I have first-hand experience of how stealthily these predators can overpower an under-muscled ape.
Our vehicle is swallowed by the jungle as the leaf-covered door blends into surroundings, offering protection from bestial vandals. We hike up an overgrown trail towards a well-designated hiding place and I can only imagine the difficulty of lugging supplies into the mountains. The chosen path is sometimes difficult to identify and this arduous climb would not be worth the effort for all but the most committed of pursuers.
Thankfully we have a metal hulk to clear the way, but he is injured and his stride pattern seems off-key as he leaves footprints deep enough to stumble in. The motion of Ivor's left shoulder is jerky as he swats through natural barriers, but it does not overly hinder him and our posse take a backward step as he breaks a hefty log clean in two with an impatient kick.
It is clear Ivor absorbed a lot of gunfire on behalf of his organic masters and every scrape and indentation he sustained would have meant certain death for us, if it was not for the modifications made in my absence.
The girls squeal as a scorpion the size of the average family pet scurries from a bush to strike the mechanoid's metal-plated ankle with its venomous barb and Ivor tramples the arachnid in an explosion of purple goo. Mila and Dynah give a wide berth to disembodied claws and twitching tail which still pose a threat to human life as we plod on.
'My goddess, that thing was disgusting!' Mila shrieks.
'It's a good job it struck Ivor, rather than one of us. A sting from a leuptrid scorpion would make your heart explode!' Jardine chuckles.
'Hey Jardine, where'd you find that mech? The little one I mean, the girl. I've never seen anything like it.'
'She's not a droid, Anguson!'
'Yeah right, nice try! She's one impressive piece of kit, fucking hilarious seeing her take on the guards... I hope the rebellion has made strides in my absence. I've no desire to twiddle my thumbs. I am ready for vengeance!'
'Relax, we have it...'
'...all planned out. Like I haven't heard that a million times before. Those bastards branded me a pacifist and a coward. Me, Sydney Anguson! My blood hasn't stopped boiling since. I'll show them what a fucking coward is!'
A break in the canopy reveals cables which connect vaguely geometric outlines, possibly huts, poking out of leaf and cloud on steep valley walls. We climb until tired legs reach an outcropping where trees cast dappled shadows over a camouflaged cabin, given away by the light from small windows.
Inside we are greeted by the warmth of a burning log fire which radiates to the shelves bearing tin pots and the tools hanging from the walls. Unused firewood is stacked beside a fireplace and the cosy interior is typical of a forest cabin, but is not what I expected from the hideout of the nation's most wanted.
A blotchy-skinned woman with cropped hair and a bald man, who feels the need to wear sunglasses indoors, sit at a wooden table dressed in fatigues. Strangely they seem disinterested by our presence as though visitors are a regular occurrence. Jardine briefly updates them as us teens stand awkwardly at the door, but the lack of invitation to sit does not stop Anguson from doing just that. At last the woman approaches us.
'My name is Nyota and this is Jackson. We've been waiting for you. Please take a seat, you're our guests now... Jackson, take the mech into storage to hibernate... From what I've heard you kids are impressive. We have big plans for you, but tonight you can take it easy. To be honest I wasn't sure if the break out was feasible, but I should've known better than to question Jardine... I take it you're Arturo?'
'Yeah, nice to meet you.'
'You've shown great commitment to the cause, we're lucky to have you... And which one of you is Mila?' Nyota asks.
'That would be me.' Mila kinks her head, grinning.
'The one who managed to evade capture, you demonstrated composure under extreme pressure. At such a young age as well... And you must be Dynah, your abilities are generating a lot of excitement. I want you three to know you're part of a team now and... Oh, we have company. I'll shut up for a moment and let you get reacquainted.'
Nyota takes a backward step as a lumpy and unexpectedly shaven countenance stoops through a door; previously shrouded in beard and shadow, yet instantly recognisable. The neanderthal who almost saved me from capture is cleaned up but not quite ready to fit into uncivilisation. Muscles bulge from dungarees and a skin-tight shirt which look like they could tear with every step - human clothes were clearly not designed with him in mind. He stares with an uncertain smile as though struggling to recognise me through the filth on my face.
'Arhan, you made it! What about Chiara?'
Ahran hangs his head low and remains silent but his crestfallen posture says it all. One of us was first to be ambushed in darkness and it could only have been her. Likely all Ahran has ever known is lost, maybe eaten and I know the pain but when I thought my girl was gone he must have protected her. I owe him a debt but it is best to ask no further questions. The heroism of this protohuman exceeds my own and yet I received the plaudits after my strength capitulated. He is the true leopard fighter.
'I'm sorry,' I whisper.
Unsure of what else to say I sit at a pleasant table with a flower vase at the centre. Silver cutlery and empty glasses have been placed before each hand-crafted seat. During our moment of unspoken mournfulness Nyota quietly pours wine into glasses and sneaks away.
Ahran simmers as if wanting to say something which would only manifest itself inappropriately so he is left to privately ponder their years of shared humiliation. My thoughts fail to turn to her who I knew nothing about as I admire the mounted animal heads on the walls. A boar, stag, bull and bear who once ran wild but ended up as ornamental statements of masculinity, symbols of ever-present death.
'Arturo, it's about time we caught up. I need to know everything that has happened since I last saw you,' Jardine says as I drink wine, feeling woozy from only a couple of sips, probably due to recent lack of exposure to alcohol.
'We went to the college and installed the virus without problem, then we went to the zoo but the guards came after us. There was a rocket attack and the animals escaped. I dunno how we made it out alive. Ahran was on display - he's a protohuman! Outside we were attacked by leopards and one jumped on me. The guards shot it with a web gun and saved my life, but I was arrested and taken to the work camp. They asked me about the kids. I don't know what happened to the cartridge, I must've dropped it when I was attacked but they knew nothing about the virus. They said the kids haven't been found. You said you would release them.'
'Arturo, the kids are safe. They've been released. I give you my word on that. We had to hold onto them until we knew what happened to you. Releasing them could've put you at risk.'
'So how did you find me? And how did it take so long?'
'I've no idea. Your little friend led the way. It appears she has a few tricks up her sleeve,' Jardine explains.
'I had a dream. I saw where you were,' Dynah whispers.
'What did you tell them when they questioned you?' Jardine asks with a sudden firmness in his tone.
'I told the truth. I said I had no idea where the kids were, or what happened to them. I told them I had nothing to do with it. They drugged me, but as far as I can remember that's all they got – I was pretty out of it. They said if the kids didn't get found, I'd be executed for their murder.'
'It's just as well we let them go. And it's good to see you're okay, Arturo. Let's have a few
drinks and you can fill me in on the finer details... So first you find a combat droid, then a girl with powers, then a protohuman and now a fugitive cage fighter! You don't know how to live a quiet life, do you? So did you really install the virus without encountering any problems?' Jardine gives an impressed laugh.
'A librarian had to come and show him, couldn't believe he'd never used a holoscreen. So he had to install the disc with this man watching over his shoulder. You should've seen the look on his face! Then all this boring physics stuff appeared. I've never seen him look so relieved!' Mila chuckles.
'Hey, I knew he was a good kid. Took him under my wing in the work camp, I did. Had him helping me with the pod testing. One of the smartest decisions I've made, trusting this kid.'
'You certainly lucked out, Anguson. But if you hadn't turned your back on the rebellion, you'd never have ended up in that place. We could've protected you,' Jardine suggests.
'I never turned my back! Being a celebrity poses problems, I had to distance myself for a while. Fat lot of good it did me though, got arrested regardless.'
'So that means you're ready to come back into the fold?'
'Like I said, Jardine, I never left.' Anguson sits back with locked arms and the neanderthal takes a seat at the table.
'So Ahran, how've you found life in the twenty first century? Have they been good to you?' I pull my chair in a couple of inches and sit straighter.
'I've only ever known the twenty first century! Jardine has helped. He's taught me about the world, showed me what I'm capable of.'
'This man is twice as strong as he should be for his body weight and we're talking two hundred and thirty pounds. His co-ordination and reflexes exceed that of a fully-modded athlete. Intellectually I would say he's comparable to any bottom leveller, but it's difficult to say just how smart he is. One thing is for certain though, neanderthals are in no way inferior to humans,' Jardine advises.
'Inferior? This world is run by animals! I must beat them, I must bring civilisation to this world!' Ahran booms.
'That's the spirit, Ahran! We will bring about civilisation for the children of tomorrow. The rebellion is forging that path.' Nyota smiles.
'And what if that path is stained with blood?' I frown as images of my dead father and The Great War spring to mind.
'We've given a great deal of thought to ensuring this will be the first bloodless war in history. Having said that we must be prepared for every eventuality. A lack of preparation could mean the end of freedom,' Nyota replies.
'It sounds wishful to me. People dream of what you're proposing but I doubt it's achievable,' I mutter.
'Once upon a time I was just like you, Arturo, a young kid who lost his parents,' Jardine interrupts, clasping hands and leaning forward. 'My father was executed for a crime he didn't commit and that rage has driven me ever since. I too was a reader, whenever I got the chance. I needed to understand, to improve myself. When I heard about you, I thought I can help this kid. That was my main reason for recruiting you, it wasn't even about the rebellion...
I've done all kinds of regrettable things - stolen, sold drugs, hurt people, but I always knew it wasn't me. My journey has taken me to the point where I think if we can't put this right, then why waste our time? I've spent most of my life looking over my shoulder and pretty much everyone in the world can say the same. The rebellion gives us a purpose. It's our only way of saying this life is worthwhile.'
'I'd do anything to achieve that, but it's never been done. Selfishness is hardwired into us. The things people have done to me, the way I've been treated, how can you possibly remove that element from people?' I reply.
'That's an excellent point, but it's not the full story. Altruism is also hardwired into us. Strides towards freedom and equality have been made in the past. Every backward step can be attributed to one of two groups - the religious and the wealthy. We must pursue an ideology of science-based agnosticism and state-controlled meritocracy. If everyone embraces these principles, there will be no more envy, no more suspicion or hatred, no more poverty. No more war,' Jardine postulates and I glare at Mila who is whispering to Dynah:
'And we won't have to steal any more and I'll be able to go shopping whenever I like!'
'You really think money and religion lead to war? I think it's more simple than that. Violent competition is prevalent throughout the natural world and animals don't have money. Or a goddess,' I say.
'What is money, but a metaphor for power? Animals fight over territory, food, mates, due to instinct. All that is represented by money, but it is the unfairness of our systems that drives people into conflict. The problem has always been the same throughout the ages - abuse of power. To prevent such abuses you have to control the wealth of the nation and remove the devices of manipulation. If the laws are rigid, you can avoid the potential for confrontation and ensure co-operation is the only available path. We have fallen for the claptrap for so long, that money somehow belongs to the wealthy. This is bullshit. Money belongs to the people. It is generated by the workforce and stolen by the people who control the workforce,' Jardine insists.
'What you're saying makes sense. You're a smart man!' Mila chooses an inappropriate moment to grin.
'I know it makes sense, because it's right! In reality I'm only smart enough to realise how stupid I've been, how stupid we all can be. It's only when we accept our limitations that we can work around them,' Jardine states.
'It's not really about stupidity - individuals tend to be either domineering or obedient. The domineering need to be subdued to give the others a chance. They pay the little guy as little as possible and keep the rest to themselves. Every time you see a starving kid, it's because some rich woman thinks she's more deserving. We don't have to live in a world like this, but the wealthy have always resisted equality. The slave owners did everything they could to fight abolition and slowly but surely slavery has reared its ugly head once again, just not in such an overt form,' Nyota adds.
'I know all that, but how can you hope to achieve these goals in the real world?' I ask.
'The final solution is true meritocracy. A wage should be a direct result of quality of work. One of the first constitutional amendments will be a rigid pay structure. A minimum wage will be set annually at the living wage plus twenty five percent. The highest paid employee of any company will not be paid more than eight times the salary of the lowest paid employee. Our system will ensure effort and talent is given fair reward without leading to the grossly disproportionate system we have at present. All excess revenue will be heavily taxed to prevent corporations becoming too powerful. The funds will be used to maintain economic stability and a high quality of life for all. That is our goal, that is the future we will achieve for you,' Jardine states.
'Sounds great, but I'll believe it when I see it,' I reply.
'Hey Arturo, the rebellion will succeed because it has to. The kid I shared a cell with was tough and determined, you need to maintain that. Lack of faith won't help anyone.'
'Faith is the wrong word, Anguson. It's an irrational concept. We must give Arturo a reason to believe and he'll get that here.'
'Ya know what I'm saying, Jardine. And anyways kid, the rebellion has a secret weapon, me! I've beaten countless men in my time, I'm a fighting machine. No-one has come through what I have,' Anguson proclaims.
'Ahran has! Ahran fought leopard. Ahran is secret weapon!' the neanderthal insists.
'You guys aren't so tough, I fought a great white shark and swam to the shore with one less arm!' Jardine brags.
'And all three of you would get your arses kicked by a little girl!' Mila adds with a smirk; her eyes rolling towards the waif at her left side.
'She's right,' Dynah whispers to a roar of laughter from men who dare not challenge her suggestion.
Scraping dirt with a fingernail I reveal bare skin on my hand as our conversation descends into a pep talk intended to motivate us 'special ones'. Nyota and Jackson are keen to emphasize how they will
repay us by teaching invaluable skills but the rest of us ramble off topic, keen to outdo each other's witticisms and survivor stories as wine soaks into our brain tissues.
'So Anguson, what was it like getting into the cage? You really must be fearless,' I ask in the hope he can impart some wisdom which will make a scrawny slumdog as fearsome as him, in spite of physics.
'Are you kidding? Getting into the cage is the scariest thing anyone can do. There's no-one to help you out, you can't run or use a weapon. And you're facing someone who's capable of leaving you crippled, brain damaged or worse. They call it the loneliest place on Eryx for a reason,' Anguson explains.
'Wow, even Sydney Anguson is afraid sometimes!' I reply.
'Let me tell you something, fear is the most useful tool you have. If it tells you to get the fuck out, that's exactly what you do. If you don't have that option, you channel it into raw fury and fight with all you have. Strength is not about muscle power, it's about taming that fear.'
'Wise words, Anguson. You must have control over fear in order to have control over yourself,' Jardine adds.
'So Jardine, how the hell did you know my precise location?' I ask.
'Ah, we received additional information following Dynah's dream and we acted quickly, that's all there is to it. We weren't gonna let you rot, Arturo. You're one of us now.'
'But you timed it so perfectly and the way you defeated their security systems, it was just too perfect.'
'That's enough questions for now. Let me take you to the sleeping quarters.' Jardine forces a grin and stands to lead us into a bedroom where he pulls the chord of a wall lamp. An unnerving pair of glowing eyes are peering through the window, conjuring images of Dynah and the firebird.
'What's that?!' Mila shrieks and for a moment I expect supernatural shenanigans, but as my eyes readjust I figure out the mundane explanation. Striped fur can be seen through reflections in the glass pane and a twitchy face watches me sit on the edge of a bunk bed, resisting the urge to curl into a ball and sleep.