We Unhappy Few

by G R Fabacher

  “Yes, Sacreon, I can read.” He looked up, “Are you actually here for something other than to gawk?”

  “Uh… yeah, sir,” Damon said, “I was going to see if I could find some kind of book on lore.”

  The Lieutenant sat up and looked around for a second before pulling out a book with a worn faux-leather cover. “This should get you started.”

  Damon walked forward and took the book. It was one of those preteen scary-story books about folktales and urban legends. Damon put it back down on the table. “I’m serious.”

  The Lieutenant through a thumb back over his shoulder, “Big one on the shelf right behind me then.”

  “Thank you.” Damon said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Damon walked behind the Lieutenant and retrieved the tome. It was heavy, but also felt brittle. He set it down carefully and flipped it open to the table of contents. While he looked he cast a glance at the Lieutenant. “Why do you drink that stuff, Lieutenant?”

  “Because I’m dying, Sacreon. I know you’ve seen a chelation potion before, I gave you one.”

  Damon looked up from flipping pages, “No—I mean, I know what it is, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. Are you going to go Bleak?”

  The Lieutenant laughed, “Nah, it’s the potions. The magic isn’t going to kill me, the potions are, but if I stop taking them, the tumors and other incidental polymorphic effects will kill me. It’s just bad stage four magical exposure. That’s why I don’t go on too many missions with you guys.”

  Damon nodded, not really understanding, but he made a mental note to ask Germaine on the way out. “The armor doesn’t protect you?”

  “Kid, the armor’s the problem. Years in shoddy armor with decaying enchantments. Think about your arm. You amped your strength and it left second-degree exposure on your whole arm.”

  Damon looked at his right arm, it was mostly normal now, there wasn’t even a trace of discoloration. “Shite, Lieutenant, I’m sorry.” He said.

  “I’ve got a year or so left, maybe more. Depends on if I can keep my magical exposure down. Don’t worry about me kid, worry about the poor son of a bitch who has to replace me.”

  Damon nodded and went back to hunting for the subject he’d come to research.

  “Looking for the real story of the lich?” The Lieutenant asked.

  “How’d you—“

  “Eh, all you smart ones always get curious at some point.” He said.

  Damon found the chapter and began reading. The initial part was the same boogeyman stuff he’d heard growing up as a kid. Don’t go into those ruins or the lich will get you. Don’t go out after dark or the lich will get you. Eat all your veggies or the lich will get you. He skimmed past that to the origins.

  “This can’t be right,” he said, “they can’t die?”

  “Yep, some sorcerer decides to cast off the shackles of death and become an unholy, undead being of near unlimited potential. It’s a bunch of unicorn shite though, son. Don’t believe it. Undying sorcerers. Everyone knows what magical energy does to you. It doesn’t keep you alive after a certain point; I’m living proof of that fact.”

  Damon closed the tome, “Holy shite.”

  “It’s just a scary story, kid, like I said. It does make a good name for a unit of already dead prisoners sent in to do the impossible though, doesn’t it?”

  Damon shook his head and then gave a little nod. “Sure does.”

  “So how’s your other project coming along?”

  “What?” Damon said.

  The Lieutenant looked up and drummed his fingers on the table, “You know, you the lone plucky kaffe-shop bard turned state traitor solving the big mystery behind the Magi superweapon that the two greatest technomagical powers of our generation are fighting over from a prison library. Ring a bell?”

  “When you say it like that, it makes me look like a prick.” Damon said.

  “Nah,” the corpsmen leader said, “don’t be upset. You’re not the first person to try and figure out what the ROCO is doing. It doesn’t often help, but I am curious as to what you did find?”

  Damon worked his mouth, biting his lip in thought. “Nothing that the government doesn’t already know.” He confessed. “It’s Ahmagistratii, and it looks like this.” He moved the tome and pulled out a sheaf of papers from his tunic. He had sketched a copy of various artifact drawings. “This is some kind of Magi control key. Possibly a way to get past the blood wards on the structure or access something within the ruin.”

  The Lieutenant sidled over on the bench seat and pushed down the paper, studying it. “Yeah, I’m sure the eggheads and alchemists figured that out.” He said.

  “It’s hard to figure out because I don’t have access to the Republic scrynet—for obvious reasons—however, it doesn’t look to be configured properly. From what I could get ahold of Magi didn’t just protect the locks, they protected the keys. If it isn’t precisely attuned to the magic of the door it’s used on then it won’t open the lock.”

  The Lieutenant ran a hand over his scalp. “Seems really complicated why not just make the key fit the lock. Have a natural attunement forged into it, like we do.”

  Damon drummed his fingers, “I think because the Magi weren’t very good with magical artifice, not like us. They were used to simply using magic, being magical, they didn’t have to make a whole lot like we did. They had only a passing concept of runes. The whole thing makes my head hurt, but apparently the living Magi was the conduit. So they could alter the magic flowing into the object, and the proper magical attunement was left in a cypher in words or numbers. So you have to have the key, the proper lock it fit into, know the cypher, and then just pump the right amount of magic into it. Honestly it’s pretty secure. Anyway, I’d bet money the cypher is in the research the Union stole back when they destroyed Archeon.”

  “Good grunt work I guess, we’re probably going to find out soon if you’re right. Mortens has a bunch of readiness inspections coming up for us. Might as well just say we’re headed to some big operation near the Union-controlled frontier. People are up in arms about that Union attack. So, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out something’s going down soon. Heading out to the frontier just screams using us, too. It’s going to be a good time for the Hanging of the new guys in any regard.”

  “We lived a charmed life, don’t we, Lieutenant?” Damon said.

  “The best.”

  The Lieutenant rose and took his book with him.

  “One last question, sir. When you go who’s going to take over?”

  The Lieutenant put a hand on the archway and looked back.

  “I was hoping you would, kid.”

  Damon started, “What? Really?”

  “Shite no, asshole, Willow’s taking over. You’re lucky you can put your damned pants on in the morning.”

  Damon rolled his eyes and folded up his notes.

  “Sacreon,” the Lieutenant said.

  Damon turned to face him.

  “You like Shaya, and for some void-damned reason she likes you.”

  Damon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  “Just know that if anything happens to her because of you, dying is the least of your concerns.”

  “Yes, sir.” Damon watched him go.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Damon was walking near the large tree in the center of the central yard. His mind was filled with the notes and research he’d done in the library. He was thinking about the rising tensions between the Union and the Republic. The thing that occupied the majority of his thoughts was the conversation with the Lieutenant. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the tree for a moment. Its leaves were starting to completely die off in spots. Crisp dry foliage crinkled under his feet.

  “What are you doing?”

  Damon looked up and saw Shaya eating an apple in the boughs high up in the tree, “Thinking, I guess.”

  “About what?” She nimbly hopped from the branches
and landed in front of his lightly shoving him in the shoulder.

  “You and me.”

  “Liar.” She smirked.

  “Death, dying, and other shite thing?” He offered.

  She sighed, “Guess it comes with the job. I can take your mind off it though.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah follow me.”

  Damon followed her back toward the exercise yard, and at first he thought she was taking him to some place out of the way. “So what are you going to do to distract me?” He said. He reached out to grab her hand but she turned and swept his leg out from under him. Damon hit the ground and grunted. “What in all the hells, woman?”

  “I’m going to kick your ass, Damon.”

  “For holding your hand, we’ve done a lot worse than that.”

  “Nope, this isn’t that kind of distraction. Urani and I were talking and you don’t know shite about fighting. So until you can actually hold your own get used to being down there.”

  Damon sat up and hopped to his feet, “I think I can handle myself. I haven’t done too bad so far.”

  “Sure for a sometimes tough guy you do okay, but I’m going to teach you how to actually fight. I don’t think you realize exactly how much of your knack for survival is the armor.”

  “Sure,” he said, “Let’s go.” Damon set his hands before him and threw a left hook. Shaya ducked it and threw an elbow. He grabbed it and she delivered a kick to his gut. Again he found himself in the dirt. Damon never had been a believer in fighting clean. He rose in a charge and tackled Shaya around the middle.

  He threw her to the ground but she used her natural dexterity to sweep his ankle again, sending him crashing to the ground beside her. She unleashed an elbow, but he rolled away and rose to his feet. He was already panting but Shaya only smiled.

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” She said.

  “I thought it was my personality and irresistible wit.”

  “Nope.” She lunged at him with another sidekick, catching him in the hip and spinning him. She set her foot behind his and threw him to the ground yet again. This time he lashed out with a shin kick that grazed her as she sidestepped it and kicked him in the face. She fluffed it though, otherwise he was sure she would have broken his teeth.

  “Okay,” He said holding up a hand. “I could stand to learn a few things.”

  She grabbed his wrist and helped him to his fit. Casually she leaned over and kissed him on the edge of his mouth. “I knew I could persuade you.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Damon lay in his bunk, alone in his cell. He hadn’t shared a cell with anyone since he’d been inducted properly into the Lich Corps. He was supposed to share it with Maz, but since Maz was gone there was no one to fill the space. He’d enjoyed the privacy, but some nights he didn’t like being left alone with this thoughts. Naturally, he took the top bunk. He was starting up at the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular. Damon only tried to will sleep to come. He needed the rest. Shaya had not been easy on him, and he was still expected to keep up with the Lieutenant’s physical training. The days were even more a blur for him than usual.

  Everyone had known on some level or another that a big operation was coming. All the big wigs at the Republic Office for Covet Operations were abuzz. There had been several foretold readiness inspections on the corps for the past four or so days, and Lieutenant worked them to a froth. The gear was checked and rechecked. Once the extra training hit he had been prescribed several painkillers by Germaine to help him sleep. They were hit or miss.

  There was a shadow passing over his doorway. He sat up and wondered who would bother to visit him this late at night.

  “You asleep?” Shaya asked.

  “No.” He said, forgoing the traditional sarcasm that question invited.

  She walked in to his open cell and put her arms up on the top bunk, standing on the slightly outthrust lower bunk. With ease she hoisted herself up and straddled him.

  “Hello to you too, ma’am. Come around these parts often?” She slapped him on the chest softly.

  “I’m worried about the big operation coming, they’re sending in the whole corps.” She said.

  “The Lieutenant tell you that? It’s just another mission.” Damon said, stroking her living hair which wrapped itself around his fingers. She lay against him, the motion was very catlike. He could feel her curves beneath the unflattering prison tunic.

  “Yeah he did, but is it like any other mission is it? People have died for this. A lot of people. Maz, the other squads, Archeon base, who knows how many people we don’t know, and all those civilians at the Seat.”

  Damon fidgeted and she kissed him on the side of his neck. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean to do it.” She said.

  Damon clenched and unclenched his fists. The memory still haunted him. The thing that upset him the most was there were no visions or nightmares, only the nagging feeling that he should feel guiltier about what he’d done. They couldn’t let the Union take them though, he had only wanted to not get caught.

  “I did do it though, but it surprises me how easy it is for me to ignore. I sold those drugs… does it matter that they were for party kids? It’s the one time I tried to do something right, something to help people, and that’s when it catches up to me. That’s when the world calls to collect. The Union had made sure that the whole of the three realms knew all the civilian names and ages, even the non-humans lost in a heinous and monstrous act of callous terrorism. “Maybe I belong here…”

  “You’re not a bad person, Damon.” She said.

  He grunted softly and she hugged him.

  “I know you’re not.” She repeated. “I know you wanted to survive—”

  “I didn’t though,” he said looking into her green eyes, “well I mean I didn’t want to bring down the whole team. Why should anyone be screwed because of what I do?”

  “Then you own it, you know what you did, and you move forward.” She ran a thumb along his lips.

  “You sound like the Lieutenant and all his sin of virtue stuff.”

  She snorted softly, “I know, right? But he’s right. We don’t get to hide behind anything, wishing that it would all just go away.” She sighed, “There are always people looking to justify what they’ve done. Just because I stole to eat doesn’t mean I didn’t steal. What about the system that says all this,” she gestured to the walls around them, “is right, but can’t feed its own people? Sometimes the moral high ground is an expensive piece of land. But you’ve got to pay the price if you want it. Justification is not morality, just as doing the wrong thing is sometimes the right choice. At the end of the day… it’s whether or not you can stand yourself when you’re all alone. He told me that once. The man hates a hypocrite, and so do I.”

  “I’m too stupid to be one of those.” He replied. “But what do I do?”

  “You find something good, genuinely good and honest about yourself, and you hold onto it.” She gripped him tightly, “Show the people out there that what you are when you’re alone is what they see when you’re not.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you stole now?”

  The skin around her eyes crinkled in thought, “I got caught up stealing government documents for that councilor I mentioned… it doesn’t matter now…”

  Damon was about to say something but she kissed him, kissed him long and deep. For a moment there was nothing but the two of them. The rest of the world didn’t matter.

  “Wow,” he breathed, “love you, too…”

  “That’s just the start…’ She cooed.

  Damon didn’t have any further trouble sleeping that night.

  Chapter 21

  “A

  nd that’s game.” Damon said, throwing down the maiden of swords onto the run. Republic Tarot was the most popular card game in several nations the world over, and in several of the boundless mountains of Duamatt. It was almost impossible to find anyone who didn’t play the game. Even
on the Quardas, whose largest settlement was an over-glorified mining office, there were avid players. It was just a great way to kill free time and play for commissary items.

  Damon scooped up the candy and cups of freeze-dried soups, leaving the pipe weed sticks. He never really developed the habit, and he was probably going to die in some Union gutter anyway, why test fate further?

  He got a round of dirty looks, “Don’t play bards in tarot. I warned you.” He left the table and deposited his winning on his bunk. Some of them would probably be stolen back, but he didn’t care, nothing could ruin today. He headed to the yard for a walk and Urani stopped him, putting her arm across the door to the yard. Her nostrils flared and her eyes widened.

  “Oh, that sneaky bitch…” She grinned broadly. “I knew she’d skulk around. She never did like slugging it out.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Also, she slugs it out just fine. I have the bruises to prove it.” He had showered twice, damn it.

  Her grin broadened into a rather pretty if somewhat terrifying smile. “Sure, and I don’t smell it on you underneath the layers of government soap and male pride.” She punched him in the shoulder, “Come on, stud, I need a spotter.”

  Damon followed her into the yard and helped her rack up an impressive amount of weight. Damon almost felt weak, almost… maybe. He hadn’t noticed until last night, but the Lieutenant’s excessive exercise routines had honed his body. He didn’t put on much muscle, but he lost any of the indulgences of living in a modern world with prepackaged food and corner bakeries. After a while the military-grade rations even grew on him, in a self-hating kind of way.