Requiem

by E L Strife

  Athia returned his gesture, and he admired her slight smile. He didn’t see it often. It showed a tender side of her which single-parent life in a mining town couldn’t afford. He sighed, committing her face to a fresh memory once again.

  “Get down! Come inside, now,” she reiterated with furrowed brows. The boys dropped to the snow and filed through the opening. The last slung one more snowball out at the tree before Athia pulled the door shut behind him.

  “Miia Liat. Amras tus Miipa,” Kios mumbled. Entranced by the shifting colors and patterns on the TV, his words appeared a subconscious reaction.

  Rio inspected the boy under his arm who offered no translation. Jotting down the closest phonetic spelling he could get, he added it to his growing list. Asking would be futile. Kios was taking in so many new stimuli it was hard for him to focus.

  The TV panned across the stage set up in front of the Mercy Building, displaying Sergeant Bennett, the Coordinator, Atana, and Azure.

  Kios stopped bouncing. “Miima!”

  Azure had explained to Rio what had happened to Kios’s family, how they were murdered in front of him by Linoans. Kios had escaped, crawling through a vent shaft and falling into the Hatoga fields. He’d been bullied out of his food repeatedly.

  Now, Rio was concerned Kios was placing an unrealistic value on Atana. He knew she and Azure had assumed the responsibility of caring for this child. But the name Kios called her sounded like it implied something she had not informed him of.

  He couldn’t bring himself to report it. Kios wasn’t harming anyone.

  Rio ran a hand over the boy’s back. “Who’s Miima? Can you show me?”

  Kios grabbed his cup and hopped up, running to the two-dimensional image of Sergeant Atana. He touched the smooth, flat surface and looked over his shoulder at Rio. The dancing colors lit up his gray face and uneven stripes. “What is Sahara doing in there?”

  Sahara. He hadn’t heard the name in years. “She is somewhere far away. Someone is showing us she’s guarding a very important person. He will help make this place safe so all your friends from space can come live with us.”

  “I have no friends.” Kios pointed to three people on the screen. “Sim iitues veriat.”

  —Unveiled—

  Chapter 35

  THOUSANDS OF EARTHLINGS filled the plaza of Pacific Zone Fourteen, the sun at its hottest point in the blue sky. Lavrion, now in shepherds’ Dress Black and a tactical vest, observed from behind a camera crew, his body trickling with sweat. The bronze badge over his left peck glinted, an official indicator he’d earned the SI hanging from his hip. Even on the sidelines, the possibility of becoming recognizable was unnerving. Years he had struggled to evade UP. Now, he stood as one of them.

  For her.

  Up front, Atana and Azure stood to one side of the Coordinator, Bennett to the other. The warm breeze carried the salted scent of the ocean mixed with notes of fruit through their black slacks and polos. Clasping their hands behind their backs made the leather of their belts squeak as they scrutinized the muttering crowd with impassive faces. Security teams patrolled the area, watching the people for signs of Kronos and the skies for falling debris.

  Lavrion could hear the whispers like waves of wind through palm trees.

  Who is the man with no color?

  What is he?

  Why does he stand with the Universal Protectors?

  Is he an alien like Blue Bomb?

  He eyed a few attendees wearing clothing too bulky for the humidity. Thick scarves hid the tattooed lines on Kronos followers’ necks, an initiation rite of passage. Their outfits could hide thirty grenades or a long-range rifle without anyone the wiser.

  Lavrion opened his mind to listen, see if he could snag a thought string, but they were too far away. He heard a couple of the onlookers consider leaving, uncomfortable with Azure and Atana’s presences. But their curiosity motivated them to stay.

  If Lavrion left his post, he could weave among the people and get within range, know if Kronos had any plans. The urge made his feet ache to move. He kept them planted. This was his job. Atana had ordered the shepherds not to call anyone out because they appeared the part. Attire did not determine action. She was right, but their tattoos were blatant indicators. All it took was a turn of their head.

  Thirty-seven, on his end alone.

  He’d rather shoot them where they stood. He could, easily. Accurately.

  Kronos were loose arrows in a tightly wound bow. Most had no training, the victims often innocents and not part of the plan. Lavrion had healed enough of them to know.

  The Coordinator paused his speech after the welcome and introduction, catching Lavrion’s attention. This was the moment every shepherd and member of Command dreaded. Universal Protectors’ Command had kept an enormous secret from the civilians for a long time, long before the Shepherds United was a known organization.

  Unfortunately, UP and the civilians both had their demons. Any outcome was possible.

  Lavrion rotated to check the crowd to his right. Several individuals wore finer threads, others brighter colors. People sat on windowsills of tall apartment buildings; some gathered on verandas. Wherever there was an H.Co. facility, there was a rebuilding city. Not all of Earth was a wasteland. But nature had her ways of forcing inhabitants out of an area and into another as she tried to cleanse her skin.

  Of the zones he’d lived in, he’d seen the people’s desire for peace and their frustration with never-ending sickness and battle. Feuds were mostly over toxin-free farmland. A disagreement was always possible when humans looked or acted out of the area’s norm. Differing definitions of respect within local customs seemed to be the hardest fuse to tamp out.

  He, like a handful of others, knew their ancestry was not of Earth. Those aware of what he was sheltered him in return for use of his skills. He healed the sick and injured in private, or he made himself a shadow, to not be named or seen. It was what he had to do to survive with countless judging eyes on the streets.

  The vast majority were not prepared for this.

  “You have been returned to your homes by those standing beside me and their respective teams, teams consisting of humans and non-humans alike.” The Coordinator took a deep breath. “As are all of you.”

  The chatting of the crowd ceased in a heartbeat.

  …

  Hot tarpaper crinkled on the roof as Josie shifted on her stomach, scanning through her binoculars. Every window and building had been inspected around the plaza before the Coordinator arrived.

  Panton sat beside her, leaning against the raised edge of the roof, guarding her back. Being off serum had opened his eyes to unusual behaviors of others he’d never noticed before. His focus had, unfortunately, been degraded as a result. Before they’d left that morning, he’d seen Rio, demanded a dose because he’d spent all night awake, thinking about her.

  Rio had been right. It kicked in and faded before they reached the plaza, leaving him exhausted and futilely trying to push back against his growing insecurities.

  Panton admired her strawberry bun from the side, loose strands curling in the humid air. Her deep, controlled breaths were a sign of her fighting exhaustion. Well-rested, she’d only do it when preparing for a shot.

  He looked away at nothing in particular. “Hugo and the guys have been givin’ me major crap about lettin’ my sniper get so worn out like I’m being lazy.”

  “We’re equal in our fight,” she said. “You don’t admit when you’re beat.”

  Panton shifted the shotgun in his grasp, wiping the sweat from each of his palms on his pants. The cuts on his chest were still tender. Her dismissal of the comment made him hope they were joking. On serum, he would’ve handed it right back. Every day he spent off it, with her, the more those comments upset him and felt like threats to the two of them. “Rusty’s being transferred and under watch now, officially pending retirement.”

  “Finally,” she mumbled, twisting to scan another block. “One l
ess thing to think about.”

  Panton scratched the back of his head and prayed she wouldn’t hit him for asking what had been on his mind for the last few nights. “Since you seem to sleep better around me, maybe we could take a nap in your room tonight? You could lay on my chest like when we’re out on field assignment.” He paused, realizing he hadn’t provided much of a situation-specific reason. “I know you get a little cold when you’re tired. I’m always warm.”

  “We can’t. Shouldn’t.”

  Rejection hit him like a body slam into a brick wall.

  “Why not?” Panton drawled, his voice deepening in confusion. “Atana and Azure are stayin’ in the same room, and no one says a thing.”

  “Guards group up. Snipers sleep alone. It’s regulation. They’re above our pay grade.” She lifted her wristband, checking on Terson and Vequestri’s snipe zones. Both came back with an all clear.

  “Sure.” His stomach grumbled. “What about a lunch date?”

  “Always hungry.” She let out a short, amused laugh, not taking her eyes off her job. “There’s a granola bar in my pack with your name on it if you can’t wait.”

  Panton reached for her bag as he scanned the rooftop behind her. She never forgot to hide food for him. He smiled to himself until the slices on his chest stretched, radiating pangs through his shoulder. Empty-handed, he grunted and leaned back, the ache overriding the need from his hungry belly. “Azure said these damn things would heal faster than this. I’m thinking maybe humans aren’t as fast as Xahu’ré.”

  “You’re strong. Just takes time.” Josie repositioned the binoculars. “I’m—sorry, Josh. It makes me uneasy having others know we like each other.”

  He finally had a reason for the cold shoulder she’d been giving him since they’d returned. “Josie, I don’t think they do. We’ve been bound to one another through the Pairing Process. There’s a higher frequency of opposite gender matches in our designations compared to the rest. So what if we like to snuggle a little more?”

  The two of them heard the crowd mumble and chatter amongst themselves below.

  “It’s how we managed to end the Three Hundred Year War.” The Coordinator’s voice echoed through the buildings from large speakers. “It was voted on by the people. A small group of Mirramor were chosen to see to the concealment.”

  Panton sighed, not listening. “Am I gonna have to take this jacket and shirt off again to get you to look at me?” He sat forward, grabbing the zipper at his collar, dragging it halfway down.

  “What?” Josie jerked back from her task. “Josh, stop! We’re on an assignment!”

  Catching a twinkle in her jade eyes when they tracked along the opening in his jacket evoked a surge of daring confidence. “I will if you promise to have dinner with me tonight.”

  “Okay; okay.” With a shake of her head, she returned to her work, biting a lip. “You are unreal and very dangerous, Josh Panton.”

  He hummed in self-satisfaction at the smoky tone of her voice. Dangerous sounded like a good thing. Panton slouched, zipping his jacket up, his shotgun back in front of his chest, unable to help a broad grin.

  Josie radioed Tanner over her headset. “Took my eyes away for a moment.” She flashed a playful glare at Panton. He responded with a coy shrug. “Anything on your end?”

  Chapter 36

  “NEGATIVE.” Tanner patrolled through his scope, the butt of his e-rifle resting on his shoulder. His left hand wrapped around the pistol grip as the bipod held the muzzle above the hot concrete pavers bordering the flat roof.

  Looking in through an open window, he checked the fifth story of an apartment complex. A curvy shadow sashayed by. He let out a quiet breath when the figure paced again in an ivory lace bra and cutoff jean shorts.

  “What?” Cutter, who had been scanning the rooftop, spun around.

  Tanner blinked in length. “N-nothing, some girl in very little clothing. I didn’t expect it to get to me. It never has before.”

  “How are you holding up without Amianna? She’s one of Imara’s elite perimeter guards on Agutra now, right?”

  Tugging at his sweat-soaked collar, Tanner cleared his throat. “Yeah, if I’m not completely occupied, my thoughts are all about her. I-I don’t like how it makes me hesitate with things. My heart feels heavy like when I don’t get sleep for days on end. I don’t want to eat.”

  Cutter pursed his lips. “It’s called love, Remmi.”

  “If that’s the case—” Tanner returned to his search, hoping the distraction would calm his rapid pulse. “Love is awful, and I understand why Command put us on serum.”

  “When you’re without them, or they’re hurt, yes.”

  Tanner scanned another shadow shifting between a set of maroon curtains dancing in the torrid updraft. He couldn’t believe Amianna had talked to him for so long on Agutra, let alone looked at him, a boring human next to her luminous flume-wings and the rippling patterns of hexagonal chromatophores on her skin. But if his co-shepherd, a man who locked himself as far away as Atana, could have a love life, Tanner hoped he could too.

  The woman leaned out of the window, her ruby shellacked nails gleaming in the sunlight, contrasting her olive, low-cut tank top, showing the voluptuous arcs of her chest. Her eyes lifted to him. Tanner reared back in shock, stuttering.

  Cutter glowered at him. “Okay, now it’s definitely not nothing.”

  “She looked at me.”

  His brows knitted. “What do you mean?”

  “Dead straight in the lens from block eleven.” Tanner pointed across the plaza. “I don’t know how she could do that from so far away without a scope. Josie might be capable.”

  “You think she’s Kojaqx?” Cutter asked, intrigue lifting his face.

  “No way. She’s too tall and tan. Her hair is brown and curly, not red. Red fingernails though.”

  “Could be Euli. Can I look?”

  “Block six, column three, level five.” Tanner handed the binoculars over the e-rifle to the outstretched hand of his partner. He studied Cutter’s profile as he raised the lenses to his face, searching for the woman.

  Cutter sighed and spun back around, returning the binoculars. “Missed her. Were her irises black like Terson’s?”

  Tanner shook his head and lifted the binoculars to his eyes again. After one last glance at the empty window, he continued his patrol.

  “What color were they?”

  The voice in his left ear was hollow like always, with the slightest space between the words, like his co-shepherd was afraid of asking. Tanner had to answer, or Cutter would figure something was up. But the truth might be worse than silence. After a breath of deliberation, Tanner chose ambiguity. “Indecipherable.”

  When Cutter didn’t move or respond, he realized his white lie hadn’t worked. Feeling his eyes on him, he added, “There are a million tan brunettes with red nails.”

  Tension swelled until Tanner couldn’t take it any longer. He rolled his head in discomfort. “Mine. They were like mine.”

  Neither one of them spoke for a stretch, listening to the speech in the background, visually patrolling those in attendance.

  “Could be another NCAM. There are quite a few in the civilian population.” Cutter said, more to himself.

  Tanner examined a group of people clustered together by the corner of block six. He felt bad about his outburst, remembering the private conversation they’d had in their quarters that morning. Cutter had sat him down and requested use of Bennett’s Sanction.

  His partner had called it a grief hallucination, to see signs of life after Essie’s death as he was dragged from the infirmary. Cutter had admitted with all the briefings and counseling he was doing, he was having an extra hard time pushing that memory away and wanted Tanner to subtly let him know if he ever stepped out of line.

  Except subtle hadn’t worked.

  The concept made Tanner feel guilty for being upset over a few days without seeing Amianna. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,”
he’d wanted to say. But it was like a flower trying to stop a steel bullet. He’d acknowledged the request and watched Cutter mentally barricade himself, once again.

  Their headsets clicked on with a shepherd’s voice over the Security channel. “I’ve got an odd report. My team’s getting glimpses of people turning different colors.”

  Tanner and Cutter exchanged wary glances and readied their guns.

  “Escort them out of the area discretely, please,” Bennett ordered.

  Command wanted the civilians to have a chance to process. During the flight to Mercy Plaza that morning, Tanner had overheard them talking to Bennett and Atana about not using visual symbols like shields. He, personally, thought Command needed to shut the hell up and let Atana and Bennett run the show, use the shields if necessary. It was far gentler than what they would likely encounter in the upcoming weeks. The Kyra schematics alone were terrifying.

  “Can you define?” Josie asked.

  Another voice joined in. “Any human shade to like a ghost white. It’s unnerving the crowd.”

  “Ghost—white?” Josie huffed over the speaker. She got a host of shepherds confirming.

  The hair on the back of Tanner’s neck stood straight with the goosebumps crawling over his skin. It was a weird sensation, something he hadn’t felt often enough to understand.

  Shifting closer, Cutter lowered his voice. “You feel it too?”

  “I’ve got sprinkles.”

  “Right. Leaves us a handful of possibilities, but there’s only one that makes sense.”

  Shit. “Linétens.”

  Cutter nodded.

  He stifled a groan and continued his visual sweep.

  Josie’s active channel switched to Snipe on their wristbands. “Eagles, new target: color-shifting humans. Echo India Three Seven, I’ve got a mark, block five, south-east corner, fourth floor. Do you have a shot?”

  Setting his binoculars down, Tanner pivoted his e-rifle to the right, his left eye focused through the scope. “I do not have a clear shot. I repeat. No shot.”