Withûr We

by Matthew Bruce Alexander

  “Send the air defense,” he commanded.

  Twelve of the sixteen aircraft were promptly in the air, forming a perimeter around the cities, ready to stop the inevitable missile attack. Alistair’s aircraft and the remaining three, all larger vehicles, were close behind, traveling to the cities themselves and preparing to make off with loot. The cargo aircraft, when fully loaded, then departed for the south, for a valley near the northern tip of a rugged chain of mountains whose southern extremity reached the south pole. In that dark, quiet valley they left the cargo and a small detachment of guards before lifting off and heading back for more booty.

  The response from the other Gaian cities, sluggish and tardy, did finally come. The first wave of missiles, consisting of only five was easily dispatched. The second wave forced them to tighten their defenses. Abandoning two of the cities to total destruction, the twelve defensive crafts converged on a smaller area and managed to save the other two. This gave them enough time to send out a second shipment of goods to their secret valley. They returned as dawn caught up with them again, and simultaneously the third wave of missiles was launched.

  Every Gaian city participated in this final attempt at destruction, each sending multiple missiles in an unceasing avalanche of death. The displays of the tracking computers lit up as their operators called out the news, and once again they cut their territory in half, abandoning the third Gaian city so the defense craft could converge on one area. For this third attack the other Gaian cities must have coordinated their efforts, because the speed of each missile was such that it would bring it into the vicinity of the last two cities at approximately the same time as every other missile launched. They were due to reach the city in just under fifteen minutes.

  Desperate to have one last load of cargo, Alistair reorganized the perimeter. After the communications officer relayed his defense directions, he made a quick calculation and with great timidity said to his commander, “If any of those faster missiles slip through the last line of defense… we’ll have thirty seven seconds to get beyond the blast radius.”

  “Nonsense,” Alistair returned. “We can tell as soon as they slip through the second line whether or not the last two ships will be able to intercept them. We’ll have about a minute.”

  If Alistair’s intent was to relieve the young man, he failed.

  “Just get me another few minutes.”

  “All the missiles that get through are coming at the same time,” said the man. “We’ve either got all the time we need or we’ve got twelve minutes.”

  It was not enough, of course. Nearly one hundred and twenty long range surface to surface missiles were launched, sixty per remaining city. The first four aircraft managed to intercept nine missiles. Of the remaining fifty one, the second six aircraft took out twenty three of them. Twenty eight missiles were more than the last two goalkeepers could possibly handle; the issue was over.

  The cargo craft lifted off and shot across the sky. The sound of their departure died down, and for a few final seconds the Gaian city was quiet. The sound of the trickle of water from the creek on which the city was built gently rolled over the neatly tended paths and rebounded off the walls of the buildings and the bark of the trees. If one could turn one’s back to the charred scars still billowing smoke and view only those sections untouched by the assault, it seemed an idyllic place to live. It was a moment in time, impossible to keep, existing now only in memory: the city in its last moments. Then, if one had known where to look, one might have spotted a dot in the morning sky moving almost too fast to follow. By the time one managed some sort of reaction, however, it would already have been too late.

  Chapter 81

  When the Singulatarians touched down on the hill’s summit, they were nearly the only souls for a few miles in every direction. With the threat of the Gaians and warrior tribes gone, most of the populace opted for the vaster stretches of open land on the main continent. A handful of hermits lived in the forests and hills, and in the south, where cotton grew, a community established itself in a little port town visited once or twice a month by a ship now that Odin, by use of Alistair’s aircraft, had eradicated the Megalodons. On top of the hill where Alistair once lived there was nothing to indicate anyone had ever called it home, not even ruins.

  Raja and Shukri made for the rock covering the opening of the shaft and, with some effort and a long pole, their aging limbs managed to shift it to the side. Amina bore a box which she set down a few feet away from the rock. Faisa walked with old Akihiro, who went now with a cane, a concession he made only after his legs and back repeatedly made it clear they would require assistance.

  When the rock was pitched over and the shaft exposed, Raja turned his attention to the box Amina brought and from it produced a body suit cobbled together with bits and pieces of loot from the Gaian cities. Akihiro, in his younger days, would have at least assisted him in donning it, but now he rested his weakened legs, taking a seat on the rock and leaning both hands on the cane while he panted. Instead, Amina and Shukri went to his aid. The body suit was full of straps and buckles and had several instruments sewn into it, as well as a head piece not unlike what a deep sea diver would wear, and this made putting it on a complicated process.

  Shukri and Amina spent ten minutes testing the instruments while Faisa tested the communicator, and only when they were satisfied did they give Raja some space. He turned to them each, nodded and got salutes in return. Then he hoisted a backpack carrying, among many tools, meals and other instruments, a sleeping bag. It had two holes through which his legs could slide, and thus seated and hanging in space, he could stop and rest. At the hole’s edge he stretched his shoulders and took a deep breath. Putting his feet on the top rung of the shaft, he spoke one last goodbye through the communicator, gave a salute, and disappeared into the hole.

  ***

  It was a full week before Alistair and the others returned from their conquest. Some of the time in the southern valley was spent cataloguing and dividing their spoils; the rest was spent lying low, scanning the skies, and waiting until Alistair felt sufficiently comfortable to venture forth again. Mordecai, who Alistair suspected was anxious to engage in some aerial combat, was seething by the end of the last day. They agreed to remain in the valley until Alistair, Mordecai, Wei Bai and Duke all decided it was safe to leave. Mordecai was ready within hours of the strike. Wei Bai and Duke were ready the day after the loot was divided. The Aldran commander, fully immune to Mordecai’s ill-mannered grumbling, finally capitulated to an entreaty by Wei Bai. Mordecai was in the air within minutes.

  AS&A’s portion of the booty was delivered to several spots flung far over the continent. Alistair and Darion had joint mining interests in increasingly remote areas, a lumber company rented some equipment in advance and some of it was put up for auction and what remained would be left at the disposal of Alistair’s science division. The head of AS&A made sure the right equipment was on the right craft and sent to the right destination, and then headed for home.

  There was advance warning of their return, and to Alistair’s dismay there was a crowd waiting for him when they touched down. With a sigh he resigned himself to a conqueror’s parade but when he came down the exit ramp he was treated to a different atmosphere. While not outright hostile, the throng played a note of discontent, and he was taken aback by it for a moment until Giselle came running to the ship and met them at the bottom of the ramp. Breathless, she gave him a look of excited determination.

  “I found him!”

  He had only an instant to look perplexed before she continued, her excitement becoming exultation.

  “I found the man who murdered my husband!”

  She grabbed him by the sleeve and tugged, although rather than a horse drawing a cart, the effect was more like a child pulling along a consenting parent. There was a small wooden building some yards away, and it was there she directed him. As he went, he picked out some of what was shouted as people pressed closer to him. Most
were demanding execution.

  Santiago was waiting in the reception room when Alistair was ushered inside, and Wellesley, Alistair’s pilot, followed shortly after. The Argentinean sat behind a table at the far end, out of the direct sunlight, and his face looked solemn as he nodded at Alistair. Miklos and another man stood guard at a door leading to holding cells.

  “He was part of a merchant caravan passing through,” Giselle resumed, still breathless, as she pulled up a pair of seats opposite Santiago.

  She took a satchel off his shoulder and set it on the ground next to the chair to which she guided him. Alistair, looking distinctly wary, sat on it and made it groan. Wellesley, eager to observe what was about to transpire, retreated to a corner of the room and leaned against the wall with folded arms. Outside, some in the crowd sang an organized chant, though with so many voices and wooden walls in between it was difficult to understand exactly what was being shouted.

  “Where is he now?” asked Alistair.

  Santiago made as if to answer and looked irritated when Giselle cut in.

  “He’s back in those holding cells.”

  “Arrested?”

  “Yes,” she replied, as if the question were absurd.

  “Who ordered the arrest?”

  “I did.”

  “I signed the order,” said Santiago before Alistair could point out Giselle was not a part of the enforcement division and did not command that kind of authority.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Alistair, “we do not make arrests here before a trial. A false arrest is the same as kidnapping—”

  “He was part of a merchant caravan and was going to leave the next day,” Giselle interjected. “An arrest of a guilty man is perfectly acceptable.”

  “You better hope he is found guilty.”

  “He’s the one,” she said, and her nostrils flared. “He killed my husband. I couldn’t mistake him for anyone else.”

  “What does he say?”

  “He denies it,” said Santiago.

  “He’s lying,” Giselle insisted.

  “What tribe was this?” asked Alistair.

  Santiago made sure to speak up quickly lest Giselle take over his duties. “We have found two others who were in that tribe at the time, a warrior and a concubine. The former concubine obviously wasn’t there at the drop off to witness any killing, but she did confirm that Henrik – his name – was a warrior in the tribe at the time. The other former warrior refuses to speak.”

  “Does he have a security company?”

  “He’s with Bedrock.”

  “Bedrock’s got the same clause we do: he’s required to cooperate with all investigations.”

  “I’ve already contacted Bedrock,” Santiago assured him. “They will either produce a statement from him or he’ll be blacklisted from all coverage until he cooperates.”

  “Those fucking cocksuckers are thick as thieves,” said Giselle, and at a look from Alistair added, “The warriors, not Bedrock.”

  “What’s your sense of it?” asked Alistair of Santiago.

  “He’s the one. I know when a man’s lying to me. And the look on his face when he was confronted with Giselle was proof all by itself.”

  Alistair leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a moment to mull it over. He cast a glance at Wellesley who shrugged the carefree shrug of one without any burdens in the matter.

  “Well, that’s that. It’ll go to trial and we’ll get a verdict one way or another.”

  “He needs to be executed,” insisted Giselle, and she bore her teeth like fangs when she said it.

  “Giselle—” Alistair began.

  “I am going to slice his throat just like he did to Gianluca—” She stopped short, her throat constricting on the name. “I am going to see him dead.”

  Short of submerging a hand in boiling water, Alistair could not have looked more pained and distraught.

  “Honey, we’re not going to handle this any different from any other case. Even if I did believe in the death penalty, a case like this is different. People were bound to die at the rate they were dropped off here. That doesn’t give anyone the right to kill, but it does change their culpability a little. He will be made to pay off his debt to Gianluca’s next of kin, which is you, correct?”

  There was a pleading quality in his tone and a distinct strain as well. Giselle glared at him for a full minute. Then she rose from her chair, walked calmly but stiffly to the door and left, making sure to slam it shut behind her.

  “God damn it,” he muttered as he stared at the door.

  “Be careful how you handle this one,” Santiago advised.

  Alistair looked at him with a hard stare. “I’ll handle this one the same way as all the others.”

  ***

  Raja Gulyanov lost track of the time on his way back up. On the way down he lost contact with his friends on the surface, an occurrence they expected, and when, on the way back, Amina’s voice broke through the rhythmic but muffled sound of his hands and feet making soft clangs on the metallic rungs, his semi-hypnotic state was interrupted and he realized with a relieved smile that he was nearing the surface. With renewed vigor he continued his ascent, feeling less alone now that he could chat with the others, and about an hour later he emerged from the shaft into the red tinged landscape of a night on Srillium with a full planet.

  Once back on the surface, the Singulatarian with a Hindi first name and a Russian surname let his baggage fall to the floor, unlatched his helmet and, giving it a twist, lifted it off his head. His filthy hair was matted and damp, with drops of sweat hanging off the tips. He sported smudges of dirt on his face and his breath, though he did not realize it, was appalling. There were dark sacs under his eyes but those orbs contained a glint of triumph.

  “I made it to the bottom,” he declared as soon as he drew his first breaths of fresh air.

  “Is it what we thought?” demanded Shukri.

  Raja nodded and struggled over to the rock to sit down.

  “My feet have never hurt this much in all my life.” For a moment he enjoyed the sensation of not having his weight bearing down on metal rungs. “I stopped to rest twice. I had the idea to count the steps down but… I abandoned that plan early on. Suddenly, instead of another rung, my foot hit a solid floor. It was pitch black, of course, so all I could see were the readouts on the screens inside my helmet and the reflection of my face in the face plate, but I had the sense I was in an enormous cavern. When I got the light out of my sack and turned it on I was proved correct, because the light was not bright enough to illuminate the other side. I could make out some dark hulk of a machine many yards away, and I could tell I was on a platform of some sort, and the floor of the cavern was very far below me… too far to see it. The platform was at the top of a series of platforms and ladders built against one wall of the cavern, and there was an army’s worth of old computer stations.

  “I think the place has been undisturbed for the last three hundred years. I didn’t dare try to turn anything on. I did take down notes on the script I saw, which I did not recognize.”

  Raja paused to fish out of his zippered pocket a few sheaves of paper, and Amina took these to examine while Faisa looked at them over her shoulder.

  “It’s Old Korean,” said Faisa, and Amina nodded her agreement.

  “What does it say?” asked Shukri.

  “I don’t read Korean, I just recognize the script.”

  “The Incarcerator does all its transactions in Mandarin and English,” said Akihiro as he thought over the new information. “Srillium was terraformed by a power company. I don’t know which… but centuries ago a lot of the smaller languages were still using their old scripts.”

  “Old Korean is still used in a few backwaters,” said Shukri. “I’m sure we can find someone here who can read it.”

  “Whatever it says,” Raja continued, “twenty five miles below us there is an Aradnium station, or a precursor to Aradnium. I spent some time exploring those
platforms, finally made it down to the cavern floor. It was at least half a kilometer from the shaft’s entrance. There were pressurized and temperature controlled workers’ quarters, all empty. Lots of computer stations. All very old equipment, but all in very good condition, considering. The dekinetics must still be working, still diverting stress shocks.

  “All the while on that platform I could see that great dark shape reaching up to the cavern’s ceiling and, as I figured, all the way to the floor. When I finally made it to the bottom I crossed over the stone floor – maybe two hundred yards – and inspected the thing. It is still humming, faintly, after all these years. Some of those old machines, I hear, are four hundred years old and still working. It’s obviously not a new model, but it’s stirring Aradnium or a close cousin to it, I’d stake my life on it.

  “It’s too hot down there to open my helmet to eat, and I was hungry and thirsty like you can’t believe. I didn’t cross over to the other side… I figured we had what we came for. I climbed back up the platforms, a couple miles up the shaft and got some water in me. I fell asleep… I don’t know for how long… then I started up again. I took two more breaks on the way up… you know the rest.”

  “Are you hungry or thirsty?” Amina asked him.

  Raja shook his head. “I ate a couple hours ago. I need to sleep more than anything.”

  “There’s a cot in the aircraft waiting for you,” said Shukri. “You can sleep for a week.”

  ***

  Clyde Oliver Jones’ face was flushed with self satisfaction as he walked through the dimly lit interior of the Temple, a pouch at his waist jingling as he went. The corridor he was in, more like a tunnel with its rough-hewn stone walls and irregular path, led to a reception area just inside the front double doors through which the majority of Gaian worshippers were required to enter. The reception hall had a thin, removable ceiling to allow sunlight for the bushes and small trees surrounding the oasis at its center, though at night the ceiling was generally in place, as it now was.