The Broken Third (Digitesque Book 4)

by Guerric Haché

  Ada stared at her. “What?”

  The bodyguard hit her shoulder. “I’m joking. It means ‘good.’ Don’t worry about it.”

  “It looks kind of stupid, like he’s going to pick his nose.”

  Elsa raised her eyebrows and pulled her face back. “You pick your nose with your thumbs? You know what, don’t answer. And let’s go easy on the drinking for the rest of the night, okay?”

  Ada nodded, and looked back up at the delegates. “I don’t really know what you want me to say. I don’t know what everyone’s traditions are.”

  The delegate spoke again. “But what about your traditions?”

  She frowned. “I hate traditions. They’re boring and they make people stupid.”

  There was a great deal of muttering at that, and an annoyed look on the Athenian’s face. Elsa leaned in to whisper to her. “Athena is famous for the work they do preserving old cultures and traditions from Mir and Earth.”

  “So they’re idiots?”

  Elsa smacked her leg under the table, and glared at her, though there was some pleading in her eyes. “Damn it, play nice. You’re going to get me in trouble. ”

  She sighed and nodded, picking through the rest of the food to find something interesting as a woman from Perun asked the next question. “Tell us about your home. Where did you grow up?”

  She pushed the spicy fish away and reached for something that looked harmless, some kind of white pudding. She whispered to Elsa, still looking at the Perun delegate. “Is this going to hurt?”

  “That’s the blandest food on the twelve. Ada, answer the damned -”

  She took a spoonful. Elsa was right - it was starchy and a little grainy, and there was perhaps some oil in it, but it was mostly bland. She spoke up, looking at the woman who had asked her about herself. “I don’t know where I was born. As a child I lived with my parents in small villages. One hundred, maybe two hundred people. We moved every few years. Wooden houses, some stone, old glass. One place was built on ruins. Nothing to do except chores, routine, exploring the woods, and coding. Uh, we were coders, see.”

  Confused glances. Perhaps she didn’t know the word for the coder gift in their language. She reached to an empty plate and slowed time, quickly sketching a light sigil onto the side. People near her on the table gasped as she did and she froze, looking up at them. She turned the plate sideways so the everyone could see, then to Elsa. “Elsa - what’s this called? In your language?”

  Elsa stared dumbly at the code, her eyes wide with something a bit like fear. “Um. Magic? Ada, let’s… not right now.”

  Magic. There were hushed whispers crossing the table. Perhaps it was best to drop the subject entirely. She raised her voice. “Anyway, we helped the locals. When I was twelve - oh, right. On Earth children die if they meet too many people. It’s part of the technophage.”

  There were looks of concern, and nodding. They knew that much, at least.

  “So when I was twelve, my parents left the villages and brought me to this place, the Institute. For people like us, with our gift.” She picked at something leafy and green, and found it pleasantly zesty. “There were a thousand people there, maybe - too many for children. I stayed a long time. My parents were killed in an accident. Five years after that I… I broke a lot of rules, and I got thrown out. I walked from the mountains to the coast, and there was a war going on, between...”

  She paused, trying to figure out how to describe ghosts, but Alan took that opportunity to do something that flashed a bright map of Earth on one of the walls, with a flashing point of light indicating Campus. “This is where Ada and the mirran refugees were retrieved. Presumably she means those coastal mountains.”

  That looked right. The various delegations shifted in their expressions, some more positive than others. Apparently they cared something for Earth’s geography. “Yes, well, there was a war, so I kept running. I met the - the mirrans living on that island. They wanted my help and I wanted theirs, so they sent me up to the ring, and -”

  “The what?”

  Ada frowned, but again Alan answered before she could explain. “She means Kronos station.” Another image appeared, showing the ring encircling the entire planet, though on this screen and from this angle it felt diminished.

  She pointed. “Yes, that. Anyway, I went up to the ring, and met our gods, and -”

  “I’m sorry.” An older, darker-skinned man was holding up his palm. “You met what?”

  “Our gods. The gods of Earth.”

  An eerie silence clung to the room for a few moments, reminding her of what Sanako had said: don’t call them gods. She tried to move on, drinking something vaguely purple from a glass next to her.

  “Anyway, that’s how the mirrans managed to send their message. I lived with them after, mostly, except that I needed to go fix the afterlife -”

  “Afterlife?”

  She clenched her fists. Why did people keep interrupting her? “Yes, that’s what I said. Ours was broken, so I fixed it. But the mirrans were attacked again, so I helped defend them while your ship arrived. Then I came along, because I don’t completely understand what happened to Earth, and I’m hoping you do.”

  She looked around their eyes for answers, but none were forthcoming.

  “So, your turn. What happened to Earth? What happened with the Haints?”

  “There will be time for that later.” Alan looked like he was addressing the delegates as much as her. A nervous energy was coursing through the air. Guarded looks fell in her direction. “For now - let’s move on to the next question.”

  They went through a great deal of more, almost all of it oddly boring and particular. Aside from that first bite, the food was almost universally better than the questions. The last question came from that Turou man as she was picking through a bowl of fruit covered in a sweet, dark brown sauce that tasted a bit like chocolate.

  “What do most people do? Day-to-day. Do they farm?”

  She shrugged, stuffing the odd berries into her mouth. “Of course not. Lots of running around in the woods, lots of technology nobody understands. Hunting animals, I guess, or sitting around doing nothing. I don’t know what other people do. I was too busy.”

  That wasn’t true at all, though, and she could tell from the silence that the delegates expected more. She thought back to Hive, to the village festivals she had seen as a child. To Jinna, and Tanos, and Isavel especially. To the legends that travelled from ear to ear.

  “Okay, I was being unfair. There’s music, dancing, love, stories, fighting. People like each other, people hate each other. People build, people destroy. They learn, they forget. I don’t know what you want me to say - it can’t be that different here.”

  There were some appreciative nods. It seemed that sentiment resonated with them. Good. Maybe they would ask better questions now.

  “But what work do you do?”

  Or not. Ada frowned. “Whatever we feel like.”

  People didn’t seem to like that answer, and Turou pressed her. “But how did you sustain yourselves? Your society?”

  By not murdering each other? She wasn’t sure what they were getting at. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, where did you get food?”

  Ada scowled. She was growing to dislike all these stupid questions. “There’s food everywhere. Farmwood, fields, forests. Even the wastelands have food. Where do you get food? ”

  “I thought you said you didn’t farm?”

  “You don’t - you don’t do farms, they’re just there.”

  “But who grows the food? People must be working the farms.”

  She glared at Turou, vowing to slap him if she got the opportunity. Gently - she didn’t want to break bones. “Why would people waste time growing food? The watchers do that, we just go and get it. At the Institute they made juniors pick up sacks of quinoa from the farmfields. Listen, I’m not interested in farming. Is that the last question?” She turned to Alan. “Can I go now?”

&nbs
p; The president sighed but nodded placidly, and he began to wrap up the evening, leading these delegates away. So many questions about trade, leadership, farming, and surprisingly little about technology. It was a disappointment, but she would be glad for it to be over.

  As she and Elsa made for the door, Turou appeared again, looking excited. She groaned. “What do you want?”

  He shrank a little. “I apologize if my question bothered you, I just think we have a hard time understanding what exactly makes your society tick.”

  She stared down at him. “The technophage.”

  “Well, um, yes. Really, this is - well, not a very good kind of meeting, really.” He was fidgety. “We should have a proper conversation. I’d love to hear more about where you’re from, if you have the time. And I’m happy to help if you need any assistance.”

  She was mildly surprised at his gall in offering such a thing after his questions had been no more interesting than anyone else’s. She glanced at Elsa, standing a few feet off. “What do you mean? I have a bodyguard already.”

  “Well, yes, but she’s military. Their interests are, well, narrow.” He seemed to frown a little, but then smiled broadly again. “You wanted to learn about Earth history? It just so happens that I work for an organisation dedicated to teaching about old Earth cultures. I’m sure we could learn a lot from each other.”

  She smiled, surprising even herself, and her eyes widened. Someone might actually want to help her? She faced him completely, looking him up and down. He seemed amicable, and she could tell he was restraining himself from being quite as enthusiastic as he might feel. The seams were showing, though just barely. He was certainly no more stupid than the other colonials, so perhaps he could be helpful. “Sure - Turou, right? I’d like that. But gods, don’t ever talk to me about farms again.”

  He nodded. “Of course, Ada, I understand that’s not your area of interest.”

  “It’s really not. Look, I’m tired, but can I -”

  “Do you have a comm?”

  She looked at Elsa, who stepped over to her at the eye contact. “He wants to know if we have a...?”

  Elsa shook her head. “Ada doesn’t have a comm, but Mister Chiu, you can give me your details and get in touch with me if you like. I’ll be with Ada at all times. I believe we have a free schedule tomorrow; the idea is to give her the chance to rest.”

  “Thank you, that would be wonderful.” The two of them did something on the devices snapped to their wrists, and in a moment it was over. “Great.” He reached out to grasp Ada’s hand, and then bowed at the shoulder. “Ada, pleasure meeting you. I look forward to speaking again.”

  She nodded. Was she supposed to bow, now? She tried bowing. “I look forward to sleeping. I’m tired.”

  Turou grinned awkwardly and returned to the rest of his delegation. Elsa led Ada into the halls, where she finally found blessed silence, and they rode a clanky elevator to one of the upper floors of the building. It looked like it had eighty-eight floors, which was astonishingly tall to Ada’s eye.

  “Ada.” Elsa looked over at her as the elevator hauled them up. “You said something about being kicked out of your home?”

  Ada glanced at her. “Yeah. I broke a lot of rules, and they said I wasn’t respecting tradition. They exiled me.”

  Elsa frowned, looking up at the ceiling. “Hm.”

  Ada wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but Elsa didn’t say anything else as she led Ada through the halls of the fifty-sixth floor. Then she opened a door, and together they stepped into what looked like a remarkably fuzzy home, with carpet and soft chairs, some of them wide enough for several people. There were two bedrooms with large beds in them, a living room with a wide seat along one entire corner of the space, and a kitchen built into the side. A vast window stood in place of one of the walls. Ada stepped up to it, enraptured by the unexpected view of the cityscape.

  A forest of glass and metal towers, arranged in an almost perfect grid, extended as far as she could see. Even here, many towered above her head. Dozens of vehicles, some like flying haulers and many more of them probably just large drones, flew through the spaces between the buildings alongside birds of indistinct colors, swooping from one artificial cliff to another. The sun was setting on Daneer, a warm orange glow splashing across many of the glass faces she saw in the distance.

  She turned to find Elsa sitting on one of those wide seats, her armour set aside with just a plain shirt underneath, ignoring the sights entirely and instead staring at something flickering across an eyepiece she was suddenly wearing. She looked frustrated. “Elsa?”

  Elsa glanced up at her and moved aside on the seat, patting it. “Ada, come sit on the couch with me for a second.”

  She did, and as she sat down Elsa pulled out the flask and took a swig of it herself. Ada had rarely seen someone drink so much in such a short period, but as Elsa handed her the flask, she realized she was almost keeping pace. “I thought you said we were done drinking.”

  “I thought so too.” She gestured. “Come on, drink, you won’t like this.”

  Ada grew suspicious, but Elsa didn’t seem happy either. She drank. “What?”

  “We need to talk about something.” Elsa pulled out a small device and set it on the table that stood in front of the couch. She fiddled with the screen on her wrist, and suddenly images popped up, floating in the air above the device.

  Ada stared at them - they were images of her, she realized. A recording of her in the moments before the final shuttle landed in Campus, from the shuttle’s perspective. She saw the hurricane of black code whipping around her on top of the ziggurat. She saw herself rise up and stare the shuttle in the face.

  She looked a bit frightening, and that made her smile.

  She saw herself from inside the hurricane as she kept it running and the last mirrans, Zhilik among them, hurried onto the ship. She saw herself turn as Zhilik shouted out to her, telling her that there was room for her on the shuttle. That she could fly to the stars, and find all her answers.

  Then she saw Isavel. Her breath caught.

  Isavel pushed through the hurricane like it was paper, ran up to Ada. They spoke, and Ada remembered every word. They touched, and she remembered every squeeze. They kissed. She felt another stupid tear sliding down her face, and wiped it away. “Elsa, why are you showing me this?”

  Elsa looked at her with concern. “Can I talk about me for a minute?”

  She nodded. “That does sound better.”

  “I’m from Tlaloc. I worked for the military chapter in Calleta - not as big as Daneer, but a big city. I was… they sent me in when things got messy. I got into fights with bad people. I got shot a couple of times, I shot people if I couldn’t talk them down. I was really good at my job.” She took another drink. “I liked it there - my brother is in the force, I had a lot of friends, my SO and I were close. They gave us space so long as we kicked ass, and we did.”

  She pointed out the window, to Freyja.

  “I was too good. Got nominated for Special Forces. They sent me here, and I passed most of their tests, but… they ask a lot of you, in spec. Being good, yes, but also not being bad. I… it hasn’t been going well. You said you pissed people off, and got kicked out of your home?”

  Ada nodded. “Yes.”

  Elsa ran a hand through her hair. “Well, same here. I got kicked out. I was about to be shipped back to Tlaloc, and was going to be a hell of an embarrassment to my SO, my brother, everyone. Then I got a call last night, and they basically ordered me to be your handler. They said they would wipe my disciplinary record if this went well.”

  Ada frowned at her, understanding just enough to get the jist of what Elsa was saying. For all that she was new to the Union, she had already decided they were zealots for rules. “Why? What makes you so special? No offence, but, you know.”

  Elsa grimaced. “I didn’t know either. But I’m starting to figure it out. People in charge can be... cold, sometimes. To them you’re a s
ituation, not a person. I want to be blunt with you here. I think they picked me because they think I can manipulate you.”

  The thought seemed ridiculous, especially now that Ada knew her fist could break faces. “What? Why?”

  Elsa did something that brought the floating images back to the moment before Isavel and Ada touched. Isavel was clearly visible in the shot. “What’s her name?”

  Ada blinked, her chest tightening a little, and she looked away. “Isavel.”

  “She’s cute.” Elsa paused. “She’s got brown hair, olive skin, she looks tall, and honestly, she looks really ripped.”

  “She looks what?”

  Elsa pointed to Isavel’s arms. “Muscles. I guess she’s a fighter?”

  Ada sighed. “You could say that. Listen, I don’t want to talk about her with you.”

  “I know.” Elsa nodded. “But, well, just look at me. Not to brag, but.”

  Ada looked at her. Elsa was flexing her bicep, which was not the most appealing bicep Ada had seen. “I don’t get it.”

  Elsa sighed and ran her hands through her dark brown hair. “I’m saying they think they know you. They know you’re a wild barbarian who breaks all the rules, and they know you’re into tall muscled tanned women.” She pointed at Isavel. “So they get their wildest, most rules-breaking, tallest tanned lady-soldier to keep a handle on you, because I’m out of options so I’ll fight to do whatever they need.” She pointed at herself, and for the first time Ada saw the resemblance Elsa had evidently noticed. “You think this is a coincidence?”

  Ada blinked as her mind pieced together what Elsa was saying. That was… well, it was not impossible. But it was so crassly manipulative, and so ignorant and poorly thought-out, that she chuckled. “What? That’s crazy.”

  “I know. I’m pretty sure they know I don’t swing for your team, either, and my job is on the line. They know I won’t go soft on you, and they’re probably hoping you’ll go soft on me.”

  Ada was confused again. “You don’t what?”

  “I don’t go for women. But I bet they hoped you might get attached if I didn’t tell you that. It would give them leverage.”