Crossworld of Xai

by Steven Savage

  Conspiracy.

  Now I’m not going to knock living here. I like it. I’m staying. But the one thing we don’t like to admit is we’re a culture of conspiracy. We’re going to have to as we move into the consensually-twentieth century.

  People forget our history. This was a pretty wild frontier place for a long time, and people were always screwing each other over. Those on different Earths who knew how to get here were making power plays left and right. Lets face it, it was terrible.

  So we got organized, the natives got organized, the travelers and the mystics got organized, and they made this place livable. Cities were founded and maintained, first Metris, then Piscion, then Cinnabar and the rest. We fought the Guildwar and had the Gendarmes get straightened out. But we all did it by making deals, and connections, and, yes, conspiring. We still do it now.

  Its everywhere. We can talk to the neighborhood Gendarme to let him know something is suspicious. Our Zone Cleric always knows what’s going on, and hell, we want him to. The local restaurants trade information on what merchants you can really trust, and you find some of them just happen loose business because of bad fish or not-fresh-enough vegetables.. We rely on conspiracy and complicity and careful dealings constantly.

  Should we change it? No. It works, but we’ve got to be honest about it.

  Do you think the visitors to our world think we’re perfect? Nah, you know down deep that they look at the big Social Machine of Xai and see something pretty powerful - and frightening. You’ve seen what happens when we get organized, we all remember how the Pure Church’s attempt at building a commune “failed.” We’re the biggest, baddest conspiracy between Earths there is - and its also our society.

  So when you cut a deal with the neighborhood hardware store, when you tell a Guildmember about what went on last Saturday, you’re carrying on the tradition that protects us from the problems we once faced - and your tool is conspiracy.

  Jade felt the fur on the back of her neck rise. How dare she. How dare anyone act like that. Alexandria however-you-pronounced it had no idea.

  “So, how was it?” Lorne asked, emerging into the living room.

  “This is crap!” Jade waved the magazine for emphasis, here eyes twin stars of angry green flame.

  Lorne blinked. He knew Jade had a fondness for Negative Joe, the same way you liked a scruffy neighborhood dog, but this was a bit overprotective. “It was a small article, but really …”

  “No, no, no, this Ker … er, Karolev woman. Who the hell does she think she is?”

  “Ah. The ‘Firestarter.’” Lorne nodded, looking thoughtful. “Well, she thinks she’s someone who gets published writing stuff that will make people pay attention. That’s about it. I don’t let her get to me, she’s a complete bitch.”

  The Vulpine tossed the magazine onto the couch and crossed her arms in a furious sulk. “She doesn’t know anything. Did you read her column?”

  “Yes, everything’s conspiracy here.” Lorne sat on the arm of the couch. “The Historians must despise her. What … oh.”

  Jade glared at her friend for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah ‘oh.’ The woman does not goddamn know conspiracy. I lived conspiracy, damn it.”

  “Well, Garnet said a little.”

  Jade gestured, frustrated. “Colony collapsed on her world! Hell she grew up in frigging California! Its hardly the same! I know conspiracies, we lived them ever since the war. The Vulpines, the Keepers of Secrets and Lies. Little Miss Karolev doesn’t know what she’s talking about and she can kiss my furry ass.”

  Lorne tried to find something to say, and found there was nothing to say, except. “And?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, I’m … at a loss here, Jade.”

  “Sorry.” Jade rubbed her forehead. “Do you have any idea what it is like to spend your life told how to screw people over? We screwed ourselves when Colony left America for Germany because ‘it was now cowed by the world’ Then to survive we just screwed everyone who had something to hide, and that was a lot after the war. Gods, I hated it, a century tradition of hiding and a five-decade tradition of shafting people.”

  Lorne reached out and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. She patted it reassuringly “Sorry, I was ranting. I get that way occasionally.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” The corners of Lorne’s lips quirked into a poorly-hidden smile.

  “You’re all heart.”

  “Jade,” Lorne knelt by the Vulpine. “I’m a Gendarme, I know all about what goes on off Xai and on, more than you may realize. I understand why you hated it. I don’t blame you for being angry, hell you should have seen what Alexandra wrote about the Gendarmes last Christmas.”

  “I understand. Look recently I just … got to like who I am now. Recently. I’m a bit sensitive. I … Lorne, you trust me, right?”

  Lorne blinked. That was a strange question from his friend, though the answer came easy. “You who didn’t fry my backside when Rake and I tried to get HuanJen to lighten up? The woman who takes me to strip clubs? The woman who lives with one of my best friends? Who is friends with one of my best friends? What do you think?”

  “Sorry.” Jade gestured, flustered, but apparently quite happy. “I get paranoid. I feel I’m different but don’t know if anyone notices, if anyone cares.”

  “I do. Hell, I’ve seen you go from withdrawn and bitchy to friendly and bitchy and involved … and bitchy.”

  “Thanks. Ok, mostly thanks.”

  Lorne rested his chin in his hands. “That column. Reminded you of who you used to be?”

  “Hell yes.” Jade’s face held the ghost of a snarl. “I’m glad I’m not who I was. I get tired of people who think they know who’s who and what’s what. Pisses me off to no end.”

  “I understand that.” Lorne stood and stretched. “You are OK?”

  “Actually … pretty good. Sorry.”

  “Why?”

  Jade’s grin was lopsided, half-humorous, half-cynical. “We’ve got to stop talking about serious emotional issues whenever you bring tapes over. It kind of puts an edge on things.”

  “True enough. Speaking of, why don’t we …”

  Jade stood. “Right. Let’s have fun. Screw Karolev. I’ll get the popcorn and the chocolate, you …”

  “Tapes ready to run.”

  “Nice to see some things are exactly as they seem …”

  STORMWAYS

  Visit Xai, walk through the streets of the capital of Metris, and ask yourself how it keeps going. Try and find why it works and you can’t point out a single thing.

  Listen. The conversations flow around you, a dance of information, of gossip, of useless truth and valuable lies.

  Look. Groups form and disband. People and goods move. The uniforms and badges of various guildmembers form a tiled pattern of interaction. Trolleys and cars and bicycles move down the streets on an infinity of errands.

  You can almost feel why …

  In one of the back corners of the Nax, a celebration was in full swing, at least as in full a swing as one usually saw at the establishment. The patrons of the bar and grill usually preferred peace and quiet, as they often found very little during the day, but they were forgiving in some cases. Everyone has a reason to celebrate at some time.

  Brandon Thylar, had his reasons and then some. The Technician raised his glass of wine in a toast. “My friends, to the completion of the Shard Tower security project, to my promotion, and to my extra weeks vacation, well earned may I add.”

  His companions followed suit and drank. Brandon’s dusky face split into a wide smile - he felt good for the first time in two months. Most of his friends were here: Lorne, Clairice, Rake, HuanJen, and even Huan’s assistant Jade. Negative Joe was sadly absent, though there was a chance he’d fight off whatever he’d eaten for lunch and emerge from the restroom to join the festivities.

  Brandon set his glass down, and removed a box from his toolbelt. “And, from my mainboss … a little
gift!”

  The Technician produced a blue bead from the container, and quickly strung it onto one of the braids of his dark hair. He carefully adjusted the silvery diadem that announced him as a member of the Technician’s guild, and smiled at his friends.

  “Sapphire?” Clairice asked curiously.

  Brandon nodded. “Yes it is. Artifical, but hey, it’s the classy way to do your hair native-style.”

  “Getting fashionable, Brandon?” Lorne asked. The hulking Gendarme had undone his ponytail for the evening, his unbound hair giving him the appearance of a slightly disreputable angel who was ill equipped to comment on fashion sense.

  “No, just showing off.” Brandon took his seat, still aglow. The members of the Technicians Guild rarely had opportunity to brag, and when they did, most people didn’t understand what they were talking about. Here he had some chance to be understood.

  “Ah, well, before the, ah meals arrive, I have an, ah announcement myself,” Rake began, “we’re going to, ah …”

  “Excuse me!”

  The voice boomed off of the bizarre decorations that fit the Nax’s unusual clients. It was a voice most of the regulars knew, but heard rarely. As loud as it was, it didn’t seem invasive - if anything, it seemed a bit self-conscious, guilty at having interrupted anyone’s evening.

  Richard Nax strode into the center of the bar, waving his arms, face redder than usual. He gave the impression of a frustrated, but polite walrus who’d gotten rid of his tusks and decided to give bipedalism a try. His serious expression, however, didn’t invite colorful comparisons.

  “I just heard the news on the radio,” Richard bellowed, “people, we have a cross-storm coming, it’s been confirmed. The storm’s moving faster than usual, so we can expect it in about an hour and a half, maybe two. I’m canceling all the unfinished meals and we’re closing in a half hour. Sorry. Take care, and gods willing, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  There was a moment of silence, and a cascade of hushed conversation. People began checking their tabs and their wallets. Drinks were hurriedly finished.

  “Ah, damn, ah.” Rake looked down at his thick hands.

  “There goes that,” Brandon said sourly. “Someone better go pry Joe off of the toilet and see if he’s in shape to walk.”

  “I, ah, will.” Rake stood, his beaded locks swinging, then noticed Clairice was staring at the table. The nurse was trembling slightly.

  “Ah, damn. Someone, ah, take Clairice home?”

  “I can.” Lorne said, but he was interrupted by Clairice waving a hand.

  “I . . Brandon lives closer and I need to go now.” Her skin was pale and she was starting to sweat. Lorne decided not to argue.

  “Do you need assistance, Brandon, Rake?” HuanJen said as he and Jade quickly paid a rather flustered-looking waitress.

  Brandon shook his head as he helped Clairice to her feet. Rake was more forthcoming with an explanation. “No, ah, you’re Zone, you, ah, know what that means. Get home, and …” the ministers voice steadied for a moment. “God bless.”

  A rumor floated through Metris.

  It had traveled a long way to get to an appropriate destination, and with news of the weather, it had to compete for attention. However, rumors are sometimes facts with a black eye, and the right people paid attention.

  Things happen …

  “What was up with Clairice?” Jade asked as she and HuanJen walked home. A few sprinkles of rain had made the journey more unpleasant and the sky was turning dark with ominous clouds. The air felt strange, as if it had been stretched.

  The dark-furred Vulpine had heard about cross-storms, but had never seen one. From what HuanJen had told her and what she’d read on her own, sometimes thunderstorms were changed by the nature of the world, by the interweaving of magnetism, gravity, and subtle forces that made Xai what it was. These cross-storms became gateways to other Earths, and things could come in or exit the world while they lasted.

  “Clairice and some of her coworkers came here by accident,” HuanJen stated grimly. “Cross-storms are an unpleasant reminder.”

  “Ah … shit.” Jade’s face crumpled into an embarrassed knot. “I forgot. Think she’ll be OK?”

  “I have no idea. I hope so.”

  Jade wisely held her tongue. Huan was not exactly cold, but he was far terser than usual. He wasn’t so much there with her as he was with Metris, his mind and his awareness playing over it. The mystic was prepared for the coming storm, stripped down to his basics, not so much retracted into himself as expanded beyond.

  Around Jade the city was preparing as well. Reinforced shutters were covering windows, the streets were emptying, trolleys were making their final runs, and the cabbies were working overtime. Here and there statues of St. Vitus or Fulmineus, Xaian god of thunder and lighting, stood outside shuttered windows, glaring at the storm. It had been perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes since the announcement and come across the news, and the city was locking up like a clam in its shell.

  The weather reports had been coming in all day, so doubtlessly people were prepared, but it was still an eerie experience. Metris was usually boisterous, alive, noisy, and occasionally quite smelly. Now, it was becoming a combination of a fortress and a ghost town.

  “The Stormriders are coming out.” HuanJen said in an informative tone. He was still polite as always, but very far away. Jade looked up at him, and it was almost like looking at a statue; eyes focused on a distance she couldn’t see, jaw set, even the white streak in his dark hair seemed more carved than natural.

  “Yeah.” Jade looked around. She’d seen a few figured perched on rooftops, and wondered. “Can’t be much of a life.”

  HuanJen nodded. Jade wrinkled her nose in disgust, partially with him, partially with herself. She wanted him to talk, but also realized she was, essentially, being annoying. Right now, she felt unsteadied, and she hadn’t felt that way since coming here.

  “There are few professional Stormriders.” HuanJen spoke finally. “Salvaging anything that comes through a cross-storm is hardly a living. It’s a gamble.”

  “Being in a cross-storm sounds like a gamble, period.”

  “Yes. You get used to them after the third one, I find …”

  The sky twisted on itself.

  Black clouds flashed with reds and yellows. Thunder echoed strangely among the buildings of Metris. The lightning that cut through the sky offered disturbing images, images of other skies on other worlds in heartbeat-flashes of rent space. The darkest connections of the where-we-all-go bore down on Metris.

  Meanwhile a rumor had spawned into new life as an almost-fact.

  Jade looked though apartment’s patio doors, watching the storm through the thick glass. Its fringe was enveloping Metris in sporadic rain and eerie flashes light.

  She felt small. Metris and Xai seemed to have enough room for her; there seemed to be enough room for everyone. Now she remembered there was a whole world out there running on its own, without her. She hadn’t even been outside of Metris since she’d arrived, and now the world outside it was bearing down on her.

  “Damn, I …” she began, talking to no one in particular.

  Something landed on the patio. Lightning, sensing the invitation to be particularly dramatic, flashed menacingly. Jade, not impressed with meteorological drama, grabbed her pistol from its holster, thankful she hadn’t taken it off after the evening out. Huan didn’t like her carrying it, but she really didn’t care.

  Whatever the arrival was, it didn’t look human - Jade would have said it was inhuman, but having black fur and a tail made one open-minded about how to define humanity. The visitor was humanoid at least, tall and thin, with a large pair of batlike wings. He wore no more than a leather harness, making Jade quite aware his skin was an unusual dark blue and that he was probably male.

  Red eyes regarded her intelligently. “Excuse me? Jade?”

  The voice was cultured, despite the visitors need to shout to be heard through the gla
ss. Jade mulled her options and found few. Bat-men dropping by wasn’t a normal occurrence for her, and he did seem to know her, so she couldn’t really threaten him or shoot him.

  “Yes?” It wasn’t going to go down in history her best response to a winged man landing on your porch.

  “I’m Verrigent. Is HuanJen in? And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to come inside. Please?”

  She’d hoped for an explanation and gotten a name. Someone else doubtlessly in HuanJen’s life she hadn’t learned about because she was too busy. The cleric collected contacts like other people collected posessions.

  “Look, I …”

  “Verrigent?” HuanJen’s voice caused Jade to start. She quickly pointed the pistol away from the patio and silently cursed her partners stealth. It wasn’t intentional, but it truly managed to be annoying, or in this case, potentially deadly.

  “Yes,” Verrigent shouted politely as HuanJen unlocked the door and ushered the batwinged man into the living room. Jade backed off quietly.

  “This is Verrigent,” HuanJen said conversationally, “he’s an Outrider from Greenpoole. Verrigent, Jade, my assistant. Sorry, I was in the restroom.”

  Verrigent quickly shook Jade’s hand - his skin was unusually smooth, almost slick. “I’d heard about you, I’m glad to hear HuanJen’s found someone to help out. I’m afraid I can’t be social, and no its not the storm.”

  “Ah.” HuanJen nodded sadly. “Smuggling?”

  “Technrunning.” Verrigent drew a metal cylinder out of his harness and handed it to the Fang-Shih. “Transcendi technology, unidentified. Amateur job, probably disguised as Stormriders. Your Zone.”

  Jade assembled the facts and her knowledge as best she could. “Someone’s smuggling dangerous tech through here? In this?” She pointed at the cross-storm in disbelief.

  “Yes.” HuanJen opened the container and looked over a few papers contained within. “Within my Zone …”

  “More or less.” Verrigent sighed and shook his head. “Again, amateurs. I ask you what kind of idiot would do that in a cross-storm? Especially if it’s real Transcendi technology that could resonate with the storm.”