Halcyon's Hero (Atramento Book 1)

by Nix Whittaker

  Inside the warehouse, she had everything she could think of that she would need. From a Hydroponics room and a water treatment pond. She didn’t like leaving her place, so she made sure there was little she needed from the outside world. Preppers in this world were par for the course, so she wasn’t even strange in her habits.

  The last side of the courtyard had a small steel door between the two buildings that made a tiny alley. The last building was a strip of stores. They had once catered to the industrial area that used to be around here, with a small lunch shop and a dry cleaner of the heavy-duty kind.

  Junk filled the courtyard. Most of it rusted and only good for recycling. She had a large incinerator which could handle most of the junk except for the metal. She showed Misha what she needed moved into the incinerator and what needed to be piled up to be melted down at another facility.

  “I got this place cheap because it was an old chop shop the Enforcers confiscated. But it means I got a lot of junk with it. I need you to move things around, so I know what to keep and what to ditch.”

  It wouldn’t be too hard with the atramento she had given him last night. When he had walked into her shop last night, she knew he was the one to test her atramento on. His aura fascinated her on one level as much as the man did on another. His aura didn’t buck and change like others. Calm, it had been easy to see which points needed to be connected to feed into the atramento. He wasn’t a man of many words either and once she had shown him what she wanted; he nodded and got to work.

  The cameras she had set up all around the courtyard could record the effects of the tattoo on his body. She wasn’t too concerned by however strong he was before, but if the atramento drew too much from his aura, where it drew power from and whether the atramento itself had any limits. The translation she had used to decide on which of the atramento to use was only a theory. So far, she wasn’t even sure it was for strength.

  Hal returned to programming the laser cutter. Since she had discovered the atramento and what they could do, she had experimented with other mediums. Most inanimate objects had very little aura of their own, so it took finesse to get enough effect to be of worthwhile. Metal had proven very successful. In the past, she had put in the atramento by hand, but by placing them in as a design at a microscopic level she could change the tensile strength of almost any material. When metal acted as strong as stone but remained flexible there was no limit to what she could create.

  Hal occasionally stopped and flicked to the camera to wherever the big man, Misha, worked. He was a steady worker and he only stopped for a quick lunch break.

  She switched her bioware implant in her eyes to look at his aura. His aura was strong and it wasn’t weakened at all by sending extra power the strength atramento on his chest. She would wait a week and suggest another atramento. He was more than capable of taking on more.

  So far, she couldn’t tell just how strong it made him but he worked steadily without the normal effects of exercise. He picked up metal hulks as if they weren’t easily hundreds of kilograms.

  When he came into the workroom, she took the time to take in his appearance. He was bare-chested as he had worked in the heat. Sweat glistened on his pale skin. Having been born under the Shield, he didn’t have a tan. His skin was more like alabaster. Unlike many of the people living inside the Shield who mostly had bronzed skin tone from the local indigenous people. He didn’t need a tan or the bronze skin tone to be handsome. She smiled at him; she hoped she didn’t reveal what her thoughts were regarding his bare chest. Definitely inappropriate for a scientist and her subject.

  “You’ve done an awesome job, by the way.” Her mother had drilled into her to praise those who had done a good job. It was one of the few things she agreed with when it came to her mother’s philosophies. Though her mother usually added in a comment about the unwashed masses in those lessons about dealing with servants that always made her cringe.

  Hal threw him a clean rag sitting on the corner of her desk and Misha grimaced as he rubbed the sweat off his body. “I’ve never been able to move stuff like that before.”

  “Mmmm.” Distracted as she watched his hand and wondered what it would feel like if that was her hand.

  Then she finally took in what he said. He was talking about the effects of the atramento. It couldn’t be too strong, as it only had a day to draw in power. She wondered how powerful he would get once his body had time to acclimate and adapt to his new aura.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. That’s what the atramento is supposed to do. The atramento tattoo connects to your biometrics and communicates with it to do another task. Well, that is what I think it is. Basically, it is magic.” She knew it was hilarious that a scientist like her would even use the word magic in a serious topic at all but she still hadn’t been able to figure out the origins of the atramento. And the fact that they culled the atramento from ancient civilisations before the advent of the barest of technology meant the only way the ancestors could have figured out the atramento was pure magic.

  It certainly changed the stories from history. Maybe the reason Hercules was so strong was because he had this particular atramento. She shook her head away from that path of thought as it wasn’t relevant for the moment.

  He snorted and said nothing but she knew he was disagreeing with the existence of magic. As a scientist, she would have agreed with him a few years ago. Now that she was alive thanks to magic, she couldn’t deny it was powerful even if it wasn’t real according to science.

  “Are you free tomorrow? I have more work for you if you want it. I can even do another atramento for you if you prefer, but I will also pay you in cash.” She really hadn’t found anyone this perfect for testing. Now that she had tried the strength atramento on him she could already see where she had been wrong in her approach with others. She had been linking the strength atramento at the wrong point in the aura. His own because it was so calm was easy to see where it should anchor. She would be able to try the strength atramento now on people with aura that wasn’t as settled.

  He rubbed his chest and she wondered if he faced any irritation because of the atramento. She approached him to put a hand on his chest. It wasn’t hot or puffy, so it was healing well. It would still need another week before it was at its best.

  While she touched his chest, he reached out and touched her hair. His fingers came to rest on the back of her neck. She gazed up at him and wondered what he was doing. He moved his hand away as he said, “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

  Glad she could see him again, she smiled. She didn’t analyse why she felt that way and just enjoyed the feeling. Hal had learned a long time ago it was important not to miss those moments where she felt something as they were fleeting amongst the numbers and knowledge that swam in her head. They devoured feelings like sharks on the hunt.

  Chapter Two

  Whatinga: April 2086

  Shifting the bag of groceries to his hip, Misha left the corner store. He smiled at the children playing on the sidewalk. They had pulled two planters together to create makeshift forts and they laughed as they played. It was good to see the innocence in the neighbourhood. Sometimes the young grew up too fast. Like he was forced to.

  After his father died when he was fifteen, his mother had struggled to keep them going. She scraped together enough for him to do one year at the University. That seemed like an entire lifetime ago. If he had finished, he would have worked as a social worker. Instead, his mother had suddenly died at the end of his first year and he had never returned.

  Wheels screeched and police lights flashed, painting the grey concrete buildings in red and blue. A large SUV fish-tailed onto their street ahead of the lights. The police car took the corner with a little more control but no less speed. The criminal’s car jumped one curb and clipped a post on the other side of the narrow street. Steel screamed as a lamppost tore loose from the ground and tumbled across the road. The car veered to avoid the new obstacle. Straight for them.

 
; Misha glanced at the children and yelled, “MOVE!”

  There was no chance the children would move fast enough. Dumping his groceries, Misha ran to the children. The car swerved and he reached out his hand to push the car out of the way. It was a thoughtless action. They were going to die and this would be the end but instead the car glanced off him and spun around. Losing control, the driver slammed into the concrete steps of the apartments across the street. Hot water hissed from the radiator and the vehicle came to a complete standstill.

  The cops were on the car like a high-powered magnet. They yelled and waved their guns at the driver.

  Misha drew his attention away from the arrest and took in the kids. They looked shocked, but at least they were alive. Turning his wrist over in his other hand, he frowned.

  There was no pain.

  He knew he should be squashed like a cigarette under the heel of a chain smoker, but he was fine. What the heck had that girl done to him? Because he knew it had something to do with that tattoo.

  He placed a hand on his chest and rubbed at the completely healed tattoo. It was warmer than the rest of his skin.

  Misha swore under his breath and one kid asked him, “You all right, Misha?”

  He studied the boy as he tried to figure out how the boy knew his name. With dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, the boy looked like every other mixed ethnic kid in the neighbourhood. A twinkle in the eyes appeared familiar.

  Misha tilted his head as he asked, “Are you Jacob’s brother?”

  The boy bobbed his head up and down. “I’m Ari.”

  Misha stared at the cops arresting the driver. Ari glanced over his shoulder to watch the policemen and said, “Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone.”

  He appreciated their discretion. Misha doubted his miraculous powers would interest the police. Police were like drones. Sent out to deal with basic crime. They weren’t the ones who investigated. They were not hired to be imaginative thinkers.

  One of the other kids with wide eyes of astonishment said, “Man, that was awesome. Can you teach me how to do that?”

  Before he could tell them he couldn’t, Ari added, “He’s teaching Jacob at the Centre.” Misha softened. There would be no harm in the kids thinking they could learn what he had done.

  “Come to the Centre. I have a few spaces in my class.” He didn’t, but he would make the space. He ruffled Ari’s hair before he left and the boy squirmed but smiled at him.

  Misha trudged to where he had dropped his groceries. They were mostly intact. It was a good thing he had taken some eggs from Halcyon’s place yesterday, instead of buying them today, otherwise it would have been a different story.

  ___

  The Centre was Misha’s second home. His father used to bring him almost every day to work out. The place had an exemption on water, so people came here to shower after a workout and save on their rations.

  The Centre had seen better days. Paint was worn off around the doorways where endless hands had brushed past. They had divided the large space up into a large workout room and smaller weight rooms; with female and male lockers on either side. Misha was in one corner now with the boxing gear.

  Sweat dampened his clothes as he pounded into the punching bag. Henry came up behind him and swore softly. “How long have you been at that?”

  Dropping his fists, Misha stopped to flex his hands. “A while.” Over an hour, to be honest. Usually, his skin would be split and bleeding by this stage, but whatever that tattoo did, it had added strength to his skin. He felt bulletproof. Glancing over at his mentor, who leaned on the bag to stop it from swinging into him.

  Henry was an aboriginal from Australia with short curly hair that had turned peppered white in the years Misha had known him. Henry had lived here in the Centre even while the civil war had raged around him. There were no records he owned the place, but when the city had set its charter, he had already been a fixture here.

  Henry stared at the kids waiting for class and said absently, “You have a few extras for your class today.” Misha had already spotted Ari and one of his friends who were joking with the others while they waited for the class to start.

  “Yeah, I saw them on the street yesterday and told them to come in. They are good kids.” They all were good kids, though Henry knew what Misha meant. ‘Good kids’ was code for kids who weren’t into the gangs or drugs yet. They were the ones they knew they could save from that world if they could give the kids confidence and a sense of worth.

  Jacob and Ari were from a gang family. If they didn’t find a way to feel like they were part of a family, they would join the gangs like Jacob’s older brother had. Mostly they just needed an adult in their lives, who also wasn’t family, who had a bit of cool factor. Misha was a big man and that won the boys over instantly. They always asked if he used supplements or if he just used weights. He always told them weights but genetics was probably a more honest answer. Now he might joke and tell them it was the tattoos if only he didn’t think they would do something stupid like to join a gang to get tattoos.

  Misha rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck with a towel. “Let me just clean up a bit and then I’ll get the class started.”

  Misha didn’t have any illusions about his chances of saving any of the kids in his class. He knew there was a good chance one of his boys might fall off the track and get Misha into trouble, which could get him killed. He rubbed his chest. Waha had already gotten him into something. He hadn’t decided yet if it was trouble or something else entirely.

  Misha was over by the changing rooms when a voice grated down his spine. Lisa. Her brother was in his class and Misha had tried to avoid Lisa at the Centre for months. He supposed she was pretty enough, though she was only seventeen. Despite that he was only twenty-three, he was already aware he was mentally a lot older than her.

  Steeling himself, he turned to ask, “How can I help you, Lisa?”

  A mix of Maori and some English blend, she was typical of the island people. She stood just a little too close to him. Her hand coming to rest on his arm as she spoke. He wished she would stop trying to get a man to notice her and realise she had a life of her own and do something about it. She was bright and she had so much potential. It would also help if she didn’t look at men as trophies to be gained and discarded.

  “Hey, Misha. Oh, look, you have a new tattoo.”

  Her hand slid across from his arm to his chest. Misha flinched back. He didn’t like people touching him. Apologising, she added, “Krusty is over there and he wanted me to ask whether he could work with you after class. He has—”

  Misha waved off whatever she was saying and interrupted, “Fine. I’ll make sure he gets home in time for dinner.”

  She smiled honestly and it made her face soften. “That would be great.”

  The genuine smile slipped to a seductive one and she flicked eyelashes at him as she turned. Walking off, she swayed her hips.

  ___

  Hal wedged herself into the tiny machine room. It smelt of mildew and she could hear water dripping somewhere. The only light came from the torch next to her and the open doorway. The owner of the building stood in its opening and blocked most of the light.

  Kim Si passed her a wrench and grumbled. “Are you going to take forever? I have tenants that need my attention.”

  She made a face as she tried to tighten the bolt at an awkward angle and only barked her knuckles on something hard. Swearing softly, she sucked on one of her bleeding knuckles. Kim Si didn’t like it when she swore, so she kept it under her breath. The stubborn bolt was frustrating her, so she took a deep breath and cleared her mind. There was no point being mad at an inanimate object, she told herself in her own personal mantra.

  “Tell your blasted tenants they can wait.” She growled out. But whatever frustration was in her words was enough to loosen the bolt and it turned.

  Okay, maybe she hadn’t managed her anger as well as she could wish. She sighed and glanced at Kim Si to see w
hether it offended him with her misplaced anger. Kim Si could have left her to finish, but he liked to stand around and hassle her. He clucked at her.

  “Nonsense. Are you staying for dinner?” He easily changed the subject.

  She smiled as she thought about Chin Sun. “With the little misses?” Amusement laced her voice, chasing away her frustration.

  Finished, Hal wriggled out and dusted off her overalls. “Sorry Kim Si, I have to get home. Curfew isn’t that far away.” The city had a curfew, though few followed it. The enforcement of it was more to the discretion of the police officers. Hal used it as an excuse, as she needed a lot of preparation to spend significant time with others. Even friends like Chin Sun and Kim Si.

  He made a non-committal noise by blowing air out of his nose. Packing up her tools, she stopped to rub her forehead with a greasy arm.

  She took the time to dig out a rag and wiped as much of herself clean as possible. It would not be the first time she had wandered through the city covered in assorted muck. The rag was soon covered and she feared she was smearing more grease than cleaning anything.

  Kim Si passed her a cloth hanky. She didn’t know they still made those. Cleaning her face, she blackened the hanky beyond redemption. She attempted to tell him she would have it cleaned, but he refused. He was probably very proud of his wife’s cleaning skills and wanted to show off. Kim Si was old-fashioned in that regard.

  Hal followed Kim Si out to the foyer and dug out the control for the gadget from one of the deep pockets in her overalls. She had to sort through the other gadgets in there. Including some spare nuts and a small round object that let her zap people.

  “Make sure you keep the hinge oiled as it needs to move smoothly all the time. Otherwise, you shouldn’t have any more trouble with water pressure for this building.”

  Kim Si thanked her and passed over the envelope with the money.