by JN Chaney
“How’s the floor?” came a woman’s voice. It was Lena Sol, standing a few feet away, smiling down at him. “Isn’t it cold?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Should you be walking around with a hole in your chest?”
“I’m feeling much better now, thank you.” She sat down next to him, wincing a bit.
“Liar.”
“What about you? How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “I’d rather not be here, stuck in the ground.”
“You must be eager to see your friends again.”
“Yeah,” he whispered, staring at the floor.
She frowned. “It isn’t going to be a simple thing, getting you to them. Everlasting’s monitoring systems have the entire domeguard under scrutiny. Even an insect would have a hard time slipping through.”
“We’ll find a way. Every day, Jinel and her people try to break the system. Maybe today they’ll get lucky and succeed.”
Lena gave a slow nod. “Perhaps.”
“You don’t seem very confident.”
“The system is secure. Without proper credentials, penetration is impossible.”
“I take it you don’t have any.”
“Not personally. After my inquiry into the database, my access credentials have been expunged.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Jinel Din has already checked.”
“That’s too bad. Garden could have used the help,” said Terry.
“I suppose so.”
“You suppose?” he echoed.
“I apologize. Of course, I find it unfortunate.”
“No, please, say what you wanted to say,” said Terry. “What’s on your mind?”
She hesitated, but went on. “I only mean that, if you’ll pardon my candor, we know so very little about this organization. There is much to learn about their goals and ambitions. We only have the information Jinel Din has seen fit to share, which admittedly sounds very encouraging, but—”
“You don’t trust her?”
“I do, but her testimonial is only one of many. I would like very much to question the other members of Garden before coming to any definitive conclusion. I would certainly prefer to believe they are working for the benefit of Everlasting, but at the same time we have witnessed their violence firsthand. It leaves me…uncomfortable.”
“Fighting is like that,” said Terry.
“I suppose you understand better than I do.”
He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that no one really understood the point of war, but decided to leave it alone.
“I was glad to see you heal so quickly. I have to admit I’m a little jealous.” She glanced at her shoulder.
“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.”
“Don’t be,” she assured him. “I might complain, but I find all of this quite stimulating.”
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Finally knowing the truth about the Leadership,” she said. “Or part of the truth, I suppose. There might be more to come. There might be less.”
“The truth?”
“The Leadership tried to tell everyone Garden didn’t exist. They actually went so far as to claim Jinel Din had been killed rather than admit she joined the rebellion. I wanted to believe they had their reasons, but the more I talk to the people here, the more I question the Leadership’s motives.”
“I’m sure you’ll find your answers eventually.”
“I am certain you are correct,” she answered, giving him a faint smile.
Terry wished he had the right words for her, but he couldn’t pretend to imagine what she was going through. “How about we get something to eat?” he finally asked.
He pushed himself up, then let out a hand to her. She took it, biting her lip from the pain in her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Jinel told me they confiscated more of that fruit you like. What’s it called?”
“Jesotni. The miracle fruit. Is that the one you mean?”
“That’s the stuff,” he said.
Her face brightened immediately. “Oh, how wonderful.”
“I figured you’d like the sound of that.”
******
“They’re back!” called one of the sentries guarding the outer door. He gripped the handle and turned it clockwise.
Jinel Din and her team piled into the base as quickly as their feet could carry them. Blood covered most of their uniforms. Two of the soldiers carried a body between them—a man Terry recognized as Kaelin Thad, whom he had met only a few days ago. From what Terry could remember, the boy was only about sixteen years old.
Kaelin moaned in pain, his eyes covered in a cloth, soaked in his own blood. “They’re coming!” yelled the boy, flailing his head and arms while his friends tried to keep him steady. “They’re coming to kill us all!”
“Quiet him down!” ordered Jinel to one of the medics. “Give him something to make him sleep. Hurry!”
An older man ran to the boy’s side. “Hold his arm out,” he said.
Terry watched as Kaelin went limp a few seconds after the injection.
“What happened to him?” asked Terry.
Jinel shook her head. “Ambushed.”
The doctor removed the rag from the young soldier’s face, examining the wounds. “Get him to the regeneration unit immediately.”
“Will you be able to fix the damage?” asked Jinel.
The doctor cleared his throat. “The machine can only regrow so much. It cannot replicate entire organs.”
“Keep me informed, please,” said Jinel.
“Of course,” responded the doctor. “Though, he may need a transplant. His left eye is completely gone.”
The other soldiers took the incapacitated boy away.
“The hell was wrong with his face?” asked Terry.
“A grenade exploded,” explained Jinel.
Lena was standing a few meters behind Terry. “Might I ask what the purpose of your mission was?”
Jinel cocked her brow. “I don’t think so, Analyst.”
“You still don’t trust her?” asked Terry.
“No, I don’t,” the soldier said, rather frankly. “She’s only been here a few weeks. Besides, you need to earn that kind of trust.”
Lena raised a finger. “If you’d allow me to—”
“I don’t have time for a debate,” said Jinel. “Kaelin needs looking after. Excuse me.”
They watched her leave into the hall toward the medical bay. “Don’t worry,” Terry said when they were alone. “She’ll come around.”
“Perhaps so,” said Lena in a defeated tone.
“Hey, come on. You wanna take a walk with me around the halls?”
She smiled at the invitation. “Yes, please.”
******
The afternoon dragged while they waited for news on the wounded soldier. Terry hadn’t spent much time with Kaelin, but he’d seen him around. Hopefully the doctor could do something about the pain.
Terry and Lena had volunteered to assist in cleaning and organizing the pantry. Mostly, they did it to keep themselves occupied. Aside from watching the occasional assault team come and go, Garden was a little dull. Officers like Jinel, when they were around, spent much of their time planning and handing out orders. Since neither Terry nor Lena could leave or participate in any of the missions or projects, they were left in the base to carry out inconsequential tasks. Terry had complained about this a few days ago, citing boredom and a willingness to participate, but Jinel simply said it wasn’t time. “I am working on something for you,” she kept telling him. “A few more days. I promise.”
Those days had passed now, and Terry wanted answers. How long was he supposed to stay in this underground cage before they let him do something? How long before they let him in on whatever it was they were doing? Maybe they never will, he thought, not for the first time.
“What are you thinking?” he heard Lena ask him.
“Nothing, sorry,” he
muttered, snapping out of it.
Lena smiled at him. “I don’t believe you.”
He scratched the side of his jaw. “I was just wondering how long we need to stay down here before they start telling us their plan.”
“I suspect it will be some time, given our outsider status.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” he said, and he let out a yawn.
“Are you tired?” asked Lena.
“Annoyed, mostly” he admitted. “And drained, I guess. Frustrated.”
She said nothing as he headed to his bunk—a box of a room that he suspected used to be a closet. After closing the door, he sat with his back against the wall and shut his eyes, letting his mind drift to another world—the one inside his head.
Suddenly, he was sitting in a field, feeling the soft winds of a familiar valley. Ludo’s farm stood in the distance, the light from the two suns reflecting off its windows. This was so much better than the cold underground of Garden, with its lifeless Spartan design. Terry hated living in a hole. Ever since he first walked out of the ground as a child and saw the light of the true sky with his own eyes, he never wanted to go back. He never wanted to be trapped again.
At least in here, deep inside his own mind, he would always be free. He’d always have this sky.
******
Terry’s door opened in the early hours of the morning, forcing him awake. “Get up,” said Jinel Din, clad in her armor, standing in the archway. “There is something we must discuss.”
“What is it?” he asked, wiping the grime from his eyes.
“An important matter which cannot wait.” She tossed him a fresh shirt. “I’ll be in the conference room when you’re ready.”
She left him alone to gather himself. He glanced at a small device on his table, which told the time of day. It was still before the first sunrise. What could she possibly want from him so suddenly, and at this hour? Maybe it’s about John and Mei, he thought, trying to be optimistic.
Despite knowing he shouldn’t, Terry rushed through the halls with anticipation. He rounded the corner to the conference room door. When he arrived, he tapped gently on the door.
“Enter,” said a muffled voice.
As Terry cracked the door open, he noticed Jinel Din sitting at the far end of the table. Two others sat in the adjacent chairs—Morgan Thur and Vivia June, two of Garden’s most prominent commanders. Morgan, a stout woman with broad shoulders and thick arms, boasted her rifle on the table, gently tapping its butt with her thumb. Vivia, who was far less physically intimidating than her companions, had a thoughtful, serious look in her eyes.
“A bit small, isn’t he?” asked Morgan.
Terry looked at Jinel. “What is this about?”
“Welcome,” said Vivia June. “Terry, is it?”
“It is,” he answered.
“Look at his ears,” said Morgan.
“Round, like the other humans,” said Vivia.
Terry cocked his brow. “What do you know about humans?”
“Not as much as I’d like to,” said Morgan, glancing at her weapon.
“Everyone, please stay on point,” said Jinel. “This isn’t why I called this meeting.”
“Apologies,” said Vivia.
“So, what is this about?” asked Terry.
Jinel cleared her throat. “You’ll remember I mentioned I was working on something you could help me with. This is it.”
“Does it have something to do with my people?”
“Not quite, I’m sorry to say. We’re still trying to figure out a way to contact the other humans, but I could use your help with something else, if you’re willing.”
“I’m not killing anyone for you,” said Terry.
Jinel nodded. “That’s good, because that’s the last thing I want.”
“Since when are you about nonviolence?” asked Terry.
“None of us wants to kill anyone,” said Vivia.
“We only do it because we must,” Jinel agreed.
Terry said nothing.
“Sit, please,” she went on.
He did as she asked, minding the hard stare coming from the other two women. “I can’t promise anything until after I hear the plan.”
“Of course,” said Jinel. She turned to Vivia. “Go ahead.”
“You’ll recall your encounter with the sentry unit near the border wall,” said the woman.
An image of a mechanical beast flashed before his eyes. Metallic, strong, and with swords for arms, it stood as high as a building. He’d watched it kill a priestess with a single blow. “You mean the Guardian.”
Vivia glanced at the others, a clueless expression on her face. “Is that what the natives call them?”
“If memory serves, they think of them as gods,” recalled Jinel.
“Not gods,” corrected Terry. “More like monsters.”
“Oh, that’s right. They think we’re the gods,” said Jinel.
“In any case,” continued Vivia. “You managed to disable one by yourself. A remarkable and uncommon feat.”
“Uncommon?” asked Terry.
Morgan Thur laughed. “She means it’s never been done.”
“Right,” said Vivia. “In any case, there remains some curiosity on the nature of this accomplishment. We have the recording, so we’ve seen the battle ourselves. It’s—”
“The recording?” asked Terry.
Jinel nodded. “We have a plant inside the Tower of the Cartographers. That’s how I knew where to find you when you were taken.”
“Do you have a lot of moles inside Everlasting?” asked Terry.
“We have enough,” said Jinel. “Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
Vivia leaned forward. “Terry, I have a few questions I need you to answer about your encounter.”
“Which part?”
“The weapon you used. Can you tell us about it?”
“You mean the sword?”
She nodded.
“A friend of mine gave it to me as a gift,” he said, thinking of Plead. “Why?”
“Was it made of a certain material? Something unique, perhaps?”
“Sure,” he answered.
“Can you be more specific?”
“Plead said it came from overseas. A place called Tharosa, I think.”
“Tharosa? You mean the northern country in the mountains?” asked Vivia.
“Right. He said the smiths who made it came from somewhere else and settled there.” He tried to remember the details. “I think they were called Carthonons?”
“Carthinians,” corrected Vivia. “They were exiled from Lexine. I don’t know if there are any left, though.”
“We’ll have to check the database,” said Jinel.
“That’s if the records are even up to date,” interjected Vivia. “Our contact at the Citadel still hasn’t responded to—”
“Vivia!” snapped Jinel. “Please, contain yourself.”
“Apologies.” The strategist stiffened.
“You can’t reach your contact?” asked Terry.
Jinel glared at Vivia. No doubt, the two would have words later. “Don’t worry about that. They’re late sometimes. It’s to be expected.”
“If you can’t contact them, what are you going to do?” he asked.
“The database can be accessed in other ways. It’ll just take longer. Don’t worry.”
“Why not ask Lena for help? She must know a thing or two.”
“Lena Sol has yet to prove herself loyal to Garden. We cannot afford to give her access to the network without knowing her true character. I’m sure you understand, but steps must be taken for everyone’s safety. If it takes longer to achieve our goals, so be it.”
“But—”
Morgan Thur slammed her fist on the table, startling everyone in the room. “Enough of this,” bellowed the general. “My men are waiting for me. Hurry and get on with it, Jinel Din. He told you where he got the sword, so let’s end this meeting and be done with it.”
“Hold on, what’s all this about, really?” asked Terry. “You drag me in here, reference some footage you watched of me fighting, and then drill me about a sword I no longer have.”
“Wasn’t it clear?” asked Vivia.
“Wasn’t what clear?” asked Terry.
“The Leadership’s sentries are a serious threat to Garden,” explained Jinel. “We called this meeting because we need a way to stop them. Your sword seems like a possible solution.”
“You don’t have weapons that are better than a piece of metal?” asked Terry.
“Most of Everlasting’s weaponry consists of ancient technology which predates the Cataclysm. The sentries…or Guardians, if you prefer the term…are from that era as well.”
“And according to our sources,” continued Vivia June. “The Leadership can no longer reproduce these sentry units.”
“They can’t make any other Guardians?” asked Terry.
“Indeed. You see, the sentries were originally constructed with a certain metal alloy—an exceptionally rare and nearly unbreakable material known as orinchalium.” Vivia raised her finger towards Terry. “The very same used to craft your sword, in fact.”
Terry pictured the weapon he wielded against the titan Guardian. He could still recall the grip between his fingers. The pressure he felt when he stabbed the monster. The scream of the man inside its chest.
“If you haven’t deduced it by now, the only type of material capable of breaking the sentry’s shell is the same metal with which it was built,” said Vivia. “The only problem is that no one knows where to find it. Even Everlasting hasn’t been able to locate a proper source.”
“How’s that possible?” asked Terry.
“It’s one of the rarest materials on the planet. Everlasting is a powerful nation, but there are limits to its reach. The Rosenthal Satellite can only scan so much of the planet, particularly below the surface. Even if there was orinchalium beneath our very feet, we would have no way of finding out.”
“We know the southern tribes have shards of it, largely taken from ancient ruins and wreckage,” explained Vivia. “However, a handful of daggers would hardly accommodate our needs. We need more.”
“Much more,” added Jinel.