Zero Site 1607

by Andrew Calhoun

Another explosion went off, this time well above their position, far enough away that the blast wave was insignificant. But Kettle did look up in time to see great chunks of soil and debris thrown into the air, which were undoubtedly going to shower downward right on top of them.

  Then he saw something worse. The ground that remained underneath the grenade blast was moving. Sliding. Downward. Picking up speed.

  “Oh shit,” he said, although his ears were still ringing, so he couldn’t confirm that the sound had exited his mouth.

  Haley saw the danger, too. She reached out and clasped a hand around Kettle’s forearm. He locked his own hand around hers, and they held on to each other as the landslide took their feet out from under them.

  It was all pain and pandemonium after that. The two of them were airborne momentarily, suspended in a cascade of dirt and rocks hanging over the steep walls of the gulch beneath them until gravity restored the natural order of things and pulled them down. The impact when they bounced off the first outcropping broke the arm-lock between the American and Korean, forcing part of Kettle’s brain to focus on Haley’s whereabouts with the remaining part working to save his own body from mortal damage.

  Despite his best efforts, he transformed into a ragdoll, bouncing and scraping his way down the gulch, flipping ass over teakettle multiple times, vaguely aware that Haley was performing similar maneuvers nearby. He was keenly receptive of repeated impacts to various body parts but was also cognizant that nothing had been broken. Enough time went by that he began wondering just how deep the gulch went, though thoughts on the matter ceased when he slammed into a scraggy tree clinging to the rocks and ricocheted violently into the air again. Blinding pain erupted from his already tortured ribcage and for long moments his vision narrowed as if he were wearing horse blinders. Somehow, amidst the pain, he thought he heard Haley grunt and cry out in agony.

  By some stroke of good fortune that suggested divine intervention, the slope’s grade leveled out into a tiny patch of yellowish grass next to a rivulet of water nestled up to the opposite wall.

  Kettle rolled to a stop, laid on his back for a few ragged breaths and then turned on one side to cough out some blood.

  He rolled back over the other way, ribs protesting the whole way, and took a look at Haley. The clothing on her back had been shredded and he could see long jagged cuts from shoulder blade down to her belt. He couldn’t see her face – she was in the fetal position with her back to him – but he watched her hands move to her face and come away crimson. Kettle’s ears were still for the most part incapacitated, but he could just make out Haley letting out a long, pained sound that might have been a wail of torment, or it might have been shout of anger and disgust.

  A shadow flittered over his view, and then another. Kettle turned in time to see a man with an assault rifle descend onto the grass beside him. More shadows and more men followed. Well, shit, Kettle thought. Part of him was glad. At least he was done running.

  2.9 SAELIKO

  “Something’s wrong,” Mr. Toad’s voice commented quietly and objectively inside her right ear. Saeliko still found the nano-tech significantly disturbing but had to admit its immense usefulness in terms of practical applications.

  She slowed her pace through the trees and waited for Soup and Dallas to pull up on either side of her, which they did after a few seconds. They looked at each other and Saeliko with uncertain expressions.

  “What’s going on, brah?” Dallas asked.

  The voice started up again in her ear. “They’ve separated. Kettle and Haley are still moving together, but Sergeant Vasper isn’t with them.”

  “Okay, hold on.”

  Dallas pulled out a small black gadget from his belt, squatted in the dirt and placed it on the ground in front of him. He tapped his fingers on the glass-like surface on top of the gadget, which summoned a myriad of colored lights that formed a three-dimensional map. This was complete magic to Saeliko, but she kept her expression blank. With determination, she rid herself of the urge to marvel at the colors and contours, and instead fixed her eyes on the three dots.

  Dallas inserted his hands into the lines of the map and made a separating motion, causing the map to zoom in.

  “That’s weird,” Soup stated under his breath. Two of the dots were situated at the very bottom of a narrow valley, while the third was perched higher up the southern side of the valley wall.

  “Haley and Kettle are moving,” Dallas pointed out. “Slowly.” Saeliko saw it too. It was ever so slight, but the little blips were edging along the contour that wound along the valley floor.

  Soup nodded. “Yeah, but the wrong way. The Zero site is the other direction.”

  “They could be confused,” Dallas suggested. “They’ve been out there for a butt-load of time. Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re hallucinating at this point.” Soup started shaking his head, but Dallas cut him off before he could protest. “Yeah, I know. It doesn’t explain why this Vasper guy isn’t with them. Hell, who knows. Maybe they fell down there and can’t find a way back up.”

  “Nope.” The younger Marine was still shaking his head. “Vasper wouldn’t just leave them. Something’s going on.”

  “Okay, I was never very good at situation analysis,” Dallas admitted. “I just shoot people.”

  Mr. Toad’s voice cut back into the conversation. “You guys are three-point-one-seven kilometers away from their location. How fast do you think you can get there?”

  “How many miles is that?” Dallas inquired.

  “What’s a mile?”

  “It’s what normal people measure distance in.”

  “No one in the multiverse uses miles.”

  “I can think of about three hundred and twenty-five million people who use miles.”

  “That’s a tiny number of people compared to total population of the . . .”

  “Oh, fuck it. Let’s just run.”

  Dallas zoomed back out on the map, studied it for a moment, occasionally looking up at the forest in front of them, and then deactivated it. As he was stuffing the gadget back in the purpose-built pocket on his belt, the Marine looked at Saeliko and said, “Think you can keep up with us boys?”

  She authored a wide grin and then made certain the black harness belts holding the assault rifle and scimitar against her back were nice and snug. The harness was a neat piece of engineering; it positioned the weapons so that the rifle grip protruded above her right shoulder and the hilt of her blade above the left. She could reach up with either hand to grab whatever weapon suited the moment, and a system of elastic straps made certain that the sheaths were loose enough to allow easy access and tight enough to the body so as to avoid jostling around too much when she ran.

  Mr. Toad had seen fit to give her suitable clothing for the job as well. She wore leather (or something approximating leather) boots that were sufficiently supple to grant a good sense of feeling when she trod over obstacles but stiff enough to offer good protection. They came up just above the achilles and were cinched tight by pressing a button on the side. (She had no idea how that worked.) A small hunting knife in a black sheath was strapped to the outer side of her right boot. Her pants were lightweight with ample cargo pockets. They also had a strange pattern that the men called camouflage, which to Saeliko looked like odd-shaped splotches in different shades of beige. They claimed it made her harder to see in the mountainous Yenshian terrain. A long-sleeve shirt (also camouflage) covered a tight black top that hugged her skin. She had initially thought it would all be too hot, but the fabric was much lighter and more breathable than expected.

  The two Marines were similarly kitted, but without blades.

  A series of box-like compartments was attached to Saeliko’s harness belts, and they contained a raft of goodies Mr. Toad claimed might come in handy, including food bars. This suggested to Saeliko that they would probably be away from the Cloudrunner for an extended period of time. That was fine by her.

  “Let’s go,” Dallas said
and gestured for Saeliko to take the lead again.

  “Still don’t trust me behind you?”

  “I’d rather dry hump a 12-foot crocodile than let you run behind me with that scimitar of yours.”

  “That’s a lovely image. You know, if I’d wanted to hurt you, I could have already done it a long time ago.”

  “Call me paranoid.”

  “Fine.” She turned her attention to the trees in front of them and mentally picked out a path between them. As she started into a light run, she called back, “Think you can keep up with a girl?”

  Navigating her way forward was easy; the trees were widely dispersed and the undergrowth minimal, permitting her to move almost in a straight line. Only now and again did she have to weave around foliage or jump over fallen logs.

  She wouldn’t have cared even if it had been difficult to find a path through the woods. Her soul was at ease. She was built for this. All those years of training, all the berating and bullying from pedagogues like brutish Verossa. The whipping and kicking, the punching and stabbing, the molding of talent and determination. Calmness is power, and power is the harnessing of unwilling minds to one’s will. All those lessons, all that time spent. Saeliko was a product of a lost childhood, and those lost years had shaped her. They had made her to seek out the pure joy in moments like these.

  She cut through the forest like the prow of the Epoch slicing through the waves of the Sollian, and she rejoiced in the knowledge that she was heading toward a fight.

  Despite the happiness derived from her state of being, Saeliko’s body was reluctant at first. She had spent too long sitting still in ARCOB, and then on the Cloudrunner. But it didn’t take long for her to find her rhythm. She gradually increased her stride and pushed her respiratory system to work a little harder.

  Soup emitted a mumbled curse when the gait quickened. Saeliko was shorter than both of the Marines, though not by much. However, she wasn’t carrying as much bulk either.

  The trees gave way to a short field that was bisected by a babbling little run of water that was easy enough to jump across. Ahead, Saeliko could see a large pyramid-like formation of rock rise up on the right and a more rounded hill over to the left. She recognized them both from the map Dallas had conjured earlier and aimed herself between them. They would have to circumnavigate the pyramid to approach the sharp cleft-like valley that Kettle and Haley had somehow gotten themselves into.

  As she ran, her brain processed two simultaneous streams of thought. At the base level, she absorbed her surroundings. She smelled the soil and grass beneath her feet. She watched a pair of hawks circling beneath a cluster of grey clouds to her left. She scanned the trees for signs of movement, hostile or otherwise, and her ears strained for anything that might be out of place. She avoided stepping on branches or other debris that might make too much noise and draw unwanted attention.

  While all this was taking place, the deeper crevasses in her brain ruminated on more existential thoughts. As a starting point, she reviewed the two rules and one law. Was she doing the right thing? Sure. Brennov was an asshole. He was trying to knock off Kettle and Haley for no other reason than to protect his corrupt fiefdom. More than that, if Eliska was telling the truth, the QM was potentially condemning the lives of everyone on his homeworld. The guy had a heart colder than a shark’s testicles. So screw him. If she could save Kettle and Haley and simultaneously ruin Brennov’s day, she was doing the right thing.

  Was she being stupid? No. Following Eliska and Toady was enabling her to make rapid progress. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was progressing toward yet, but she was certain that she was making progress. She had gone from prisoner to soldier of fortune – definitely a step up the ladder. And this mission would undoubtedly lead to further opportunities, so, no, she wasn’t being stupid.

  Nothing goes the way you want it to. That was fine. She didn’t have a firm goal here. When things went sideways, she would adjust and make the best of it. Chaos brought opportunities.

  She began to ponder specific opportunities. Very specific. Saeliko was happy to follow Eliska’s orders for the time being, but not in the long run, and she sure as the Five wasn’t going to let smug Toady call the shots.

  Mr. Toad’s biggest weakness, other than being a member of the weaker sex, was that he saw his technological superiority as a pedestal that lifted him above the rest of humanity, and particularly Saeliko. When he spoke to her, he explained things as if to a child. His inner biases, born from his limited experiences, caused him to label her a bloodthirsty savage incapable of higher-level thought processing. True, she didn’t understand half of what he talked about, and true, she was still having difficulty understanding the implications of the Zero virus and Zero ancestry. But she was listening. And learning. Quickly.

  She had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the old cow Verossa was at least in part to thank for her mental fortitude. The fat wench had spent many a long hour drilling the virtues of critical thought and an open-minded outlook into her students. Better to constantly question the world around you than find yourself ignorant to the facts. Better to admit that your deepest beliefs were wrong than live pig-headedly in a lie.

  Saeliko took her own faith as an example. As a child, she had been a theist, fully accepting of the Five and Twenty-four, and all of the stories attached to the goddesses. Aboard the Epoch, she had become a deist, acknowledging that the goddesses must have created Erain and all the glories and horrors within it, but had long since left humankind to its own devices. Now, here on Okin, surrounded by so much she couldn’t have imagined possible, Saeliko was sliding inevitably toward the agnostic position. Maybe there were goddesses. Maybe there weren’t. Or maybe the Zeroes were deities. Without concrete evidence, who could say?

  That was the best way to approach life. Listen. Learn. Adjust. Repeat.

  A plan began to percolate. It wasn’t a full plan. Rather, it was the barest scaffolding around the perimeter of a plan. Nevertheless, it was a starting point, and it lifted her heart and buttressed her spirit.

  Before she could start contemplating some of the details, a distant explosion cracked and echoed across the gap between the triangular peak and its rounded counterpart, forcing Saeliko to bring her full attention back to the fore. She neither slowed her pace nor turned to check on the Marines behind her. If Haley and Kettle were under fire, they’d need help sooner than later.

  A half-minute later, she started picking out the sound of gunfire coming from generally the same direction as the explosion. It was prolonged gunfire, with multiple reports, which was probably a good thing. Repeated firing was more likely a back-and-forth affair rather than an execution.

  The forest began to close in, the trees bunching together more closely. The Saffisheen had to slalom her way through, dodging left and right but keeping her general heading. She aimed to skirt around the hip of the pyramid formation to where she knew the three dots had appeared on the map. Once she got closer, it would be a simple matter of homing in on the source of the gunshots.

  “Saeliko, slow down. You’re losing Soup and Dallas.”

  Piss off, Toad.

  It took her another minute or so before she popped out of the woods onto a narrow trail that looked to be heading in the right direction. She took it and considered which weapon she was going to employ, briefly imagining that it might be appropriate to bring a rifle to a rifle fight.

  She brandished the scimitar instead, pulling it from its sheath in one smooth motion without missing a step.

  The gunfire had stopped, but she could hear shouting and hollering coming up from around the bend. The rocky ascent of the triangular peak was now on her right, and the ground to her left was giving way to a gulch, the same gulch she presumed that Kettle and Haley were skulking around in. It took a moment or two for Saeliko’s decoder to alert her to the fact the hollering was in Yenshian.

  “You’re coming up on Vasper’s position,” Mr. Toad informed her. “Slow down and wait for So
up and Dallas.” There was a hint of pleading in his voice.

  Nope. She bounded over a log that had fallen over the trail and continued onward. She was close now. The voices were highly animated, and Saeliko took this for a good sign. Whatever the fuss was about, they were probably too preoccupied to on the alert for trouble. As long as she could take them by surprise, it wouldn’t matter what weapons they had.

  She rounded a corner and finally saw the source of the commotion. In a fraction of a second, she registered the scene before her and set her course of action.

  There were four Yenshians standing in a wide, plateau-like sprawl of land that sat between the big rock formation on the right and gulch to the left. All four men had their backs to Saeliko and were pointing their guns at the narrow entrance of a cave, no doubt the location of one Sergeant Vasper’s last stand. The yelling and cursing had most probably been a heated discussion over just how they were going to coax him to come out with his hands up and gun on the ground. Apparently this Zodo guy didn’t want to give up and play nice, a testament to his strength given just how long he had been on the run.

  All of these thoughts sped through Saeliko’s presently hyperactive brain in the time it took for her to reach the first Yenshian, whom she clobbered on the head with the hilt of her weapon.

  Even as he reeled forward unconscious, Saeliko wondered why she had spared him a trip to death’s door. It would’ve been simple enough to kill him. By the Five, she could’ve decapitated him. But her instincts told her to let the man live. She was going to let them all live.

  She gave the second Yenshian the same treatment before the remaining two had even sensed something was amiss. She was onto the third by the time he started to pivot his rifle toward the unknown threat. She used her momentum to jump in the air and come down with her right foot hard and fast on his planted left leg. She heard the snapping of bones and cartilage in his knee as it collapsed backward under her strike. The sound of the breakage was a butterfly’s whisper compared to the shriek of unrestrained agony that came out of his mouth.