Forward and back. Forward and back. Switchbacks on an endless hill.
That is what this is, living.
I watch the birds and she watches the birds and together, we are one happily new thing.
Sisters, I think. I have a sister now, and she has me. That is hope enough.
GENERAL EMBASSY DISPATCH: EASTASIA SUBSTATION
MARKED URGENT
MARKED EYES ONLY
Internal Investigative Subcommittee IIS211B
RE: The Incident at SEA Colonies
Note: Contact Jasmine3k, Virt. Hybrid Human 39261.SEA, Laboratory Assistant to Dr. E. Yang, for future commentary, as necessary.
DOC ==> FORTIS
Transcript - ComLog 01.03.2070
DOC::NULL
//comlog begin;
sendline: I want to know more about your complications. What you did not expect to find and how that changes your priorities.;
return: Difficult to decide whether to simply ignore the new variables or to incorporate them and refine my primary function.;
return: I was not expecting to discover a planet inhabited by creatures like humans.;
sendline: Explain, if you would.;
return: I am finding it difficult to do so. The level of technology. The historical data. Biological diversity.;
return: Nothing like this was planned for.;
connection terminated;
//comlog end;
31
BEYOND BIRDS
Fortis is staring.
“This is Sparrow,” I say to Fortis. “And Sparrow, this is Fortis.”
“Fortis,” she says, wide-eyed. “What a funny name. Is that what they call you?”
He nods, almost bashfully. I’m intrigued. Not a single rude word comes out of his mouth. I’ve never seen Fortis act like this.
As if he doesn’t know what to say, for once.
As if he’d pass out if he saw one more unexpected thing. Not very Merk-like, I think.
Maybe right now he’s not very much of a Merk.
“Can I go play with the birds?” Sparrow asks, looking up at me.
“Of course,” I say, watching her as she runs across the stone courtyard, chasing her namesake. How strange, that she should ask me. As if I were responsible for her in some way. As if we really were sisters.
“Stop looking at her like she’s some kind of lab rat,” I say to Fortis, the moment Sparrow is out of earshot. “She’s a child.”
He doesn’t smile. “You don’t understand. The fifth is not a child, Dol. Not just a child. No more than the rest of you were.” Fortis sounds somber. “At least, she was never supposed to be.”
“What is she, then?” As I say it, I’m not sure I want to know. “What was she supposed to be?”
Fortis leans against the white plaster walls of the temple. “In simple terms? The soul of the world. Humanity, in its most basic genetic sense.”
Finally.
He’s never been this direct with me before. With any of us. He’s never admitted to knowing this much about us.
About what we are meant for.
What we can do.
Ro looks incredulous. “The soul of the world? Like one of Tima’s blood tattoos? Is that supposed to be some kind of a joke?”
I look at Fortis more closely, because I don’t think he’s kidding. “What are you saying, Fortis?”
“The fifth—Sparrow—has never been a joke. She was never a reality, either, not until now.”
Lucas speaks up. “What was she, then?”
“A fail-safe, beyond all else.”
Tima nods. “Beyond us, you mean.”
Fortis shrugs, although we all know it wasn’t a question. “Sparrow was supposed to be everything the Lords were not. Sorrow and love and rage and fear,” he says. “Like you, yes. But she was supposed to be more than that, as the sum of those things. Sparrow was meant to be the one chance we have as a race to hold on to everything we ever were. What makes us human.”
“And what is that, Fortis?” I ask him, but I’m not sure even Fortis knows.
Does anyone?
What makes us human?
I get it before Fortis says it. I think it’s the birds that remind me. The birds, and what the Bishop said about them.
“Hope. Sparrow. That’s what she is.” I look at him.
Fortis nods. “The little bird. Sparrow. Espera. Icon speraris, to be exact. The Icon of hope.”
“So you all knew? All along? About Sparrow?” Even though I’ve always been certain that Fortis knew more than he would say, the words are painful now that they have been allowed out into the room between us.
“Not all of us.” Fortis looks strangely uncomfortable.
Then I understand.
“Just you,” I say slowly.
Bibi speaks up, from the doorway. “We knew nothing, Dol. Not the rest of us. We never tried to make a fifth Icon. As far as we knew, our first four attempts had failed.”
“Four? You mean, us?” I look from Bibi to Fortis. “Not Sparrow?”
Fortis looks grim. “Wherever she comes from, I’m not sure she can even be explained, in scientific terms. It all happened after the Lords arrived. So who knows where she comes from, really?”
I turn away. The sun is rising, and the sky is full of birds, and where Sparrow comes from doesn’t seem to matter right now.
“Sun’s up, an’ we should be on our way.” But Fortis looks at the sky as he says it, and makes no move to go.
“True,” says Bibi. “The elephants will have eaten their way down to Chiang Ping Mai by now.” He rubs his own belly at the thought of breakfast, which nobody appears to be offering.
“We’re ready,” says Tima. “We’ve done what we came here to do.” She smiles at Sparrow, who plays with a bird in the courtyard. Brutus runs after both of them.
Ah, little sister. I will have to share. I don’t want to, but I will.
With Tima, and with Lucas too. And even Ro.
I look at the three of them, standing there looking at Sparrow, as if she were the fire and we were all desperate to warm ourselves.
Maybe it doesn’t matter how she got here.
Maybe it doesn’t matter how any of us got here.
Maybe all that matters is that we’re here, and we’re alive, and we’re together.
Even if all we have is each other—maybe that’s enough.
“Time to go,” I say. “We’re finished here.”
“Agreed. There’s nothing left for us,” Fortis says, his eyes lingering on me. “For you, either.”
A terrible rumbling rises from the fringed green of the jungle floor. Palm fronds whip back and forth, blowing in the sudden, impossible wind.
Across the courtyard, I see Sparrow’s hair begin to blow.
Then I feel it.
The aggression. The pulsing anger. The adrenaline.
I feel them.
“What the—” Ro scowls at the horizon, while Tima inhales sharply. Lucas freezes.
“Brassholes,” mutters Fortis.
We all know what comes next.
A Chopper rises above the treetops, crowning at the base of the stone steps leading away from Wat Doi Suthep.
Birds scatter from nearby trees as it flies, and I watch them, speechless.
It’s like watching fireworks, those birds in the sky, the way they explode out and up from the trees.
The Chopper doesn’t stop. It twists up and out of the great green spread, pushing toward us, and my stomach sinks.
As it looms closer, I see a face in the window.
One I’ve only seen in a poster on the streets of Old Bangkok.
It’s only a matter of minutes before a Sympa guard detail drops from the Chopper, pulling open the door for the faces to come outside.
No.
The cautious villagers back away—and then turn to run. They know Brass when they see it. A Chopper is a Chopper, in every language.
No. No. No.
“Sparrow—
” I shout. She looks over at me.
Not this time.
This time, nobody is taking anyone or anything from me.
“Run!” I scream.
She darts off into the jungle without hesitation—and then I fling myself down the nearest stone staircase after her, following my own orders.
The ground flies beneath my feet, the rocks tumbling and the roots of trees twisting like an obstacle course. I find myself half falling, half leaping—all the while keeping my eyes focused on the little girl in front of me.
I hear Sympa boots tramping rhythmically in the distance.
The sound grows louder with every second.
Tima is the first to stumble.
Then Lucas.
Finally Ro.
By the time I feel the gloved hands on me, I know it is inevitable.
They have come for Sparrow—for all of us—and there is nothing I can do to stop them.
GENERAL EMBASSY DISPATCH: EASTASIA SUBSTATION
MARKED URGENT
MARKED EYES ONLY
Internal Investigative Subcommittee IIS211B
RE: The Incident at SEA Colonies
Note: Contact Jasmine3k, Virt. Hybrid Human 39261.SEA, Laboratory Assistant to Dr. E. Yang, for future commentary, as necessary.
DOC ==> FORTIS
Transcript - ComLog 2.20.2070
//comlog begin;
DOC: I think we have an opening.;
DOC: NULL seems to have uncertainty regarding his priorities and mission. Review prior comlog for detail.;
FORTIS: Thanks—I think I have some ideas on how we can drag this out a bit.;
//comlog end;
32
UNIFICATION
I look to the man in front of me. He’s nothing like his official portrait, the massive posters that plaster the sides of half the buildings in the Colonies.
In his thickly decorated scarlet-and-gold military jacket, there is nothing pale about him—though he’s smaller in real life. Smaller than when I first glimpsed him, on the poster back in the Old City.
Smaller, and skinnier.
The way a vicious dog never seems that vicious, once it has calmed down.
Or the way a nightmare never seems that nightmarish, when seen in the light of day.
Is that what this is?
A nightmare?
Will I wake up and find myself asleep on the desert floor? Or better yet, on the floor of the Mission, in front of the stove, with Ro by my side?
“Drink?” GAP Miyazawa asks, drawing a flask out of his pocket. As he stands on the stone floor of the temple courtyard, I can’t help but notice that the buckles on his boots are literally brass.
And that my army boots are covered with mud.
This man and I have nothing in common, I think.
I shake my head.
“Don’t mind if I do.” The GAP smiles broadly.
I shudder.
“Let them go,” Fortis says, from behind me. “You know it’s not them you’re lookin’ for. I’m right here.”
The GAP raises a brow. “Don’t flatter yourself, Merk.”
Ro stands so close to me, I can feel his arm touch mine. Tima and Lucas stand just on the other side.
Fortis is wrong, though. We all know the Sympas aren’t here for him. Fortis knows it, too.
The GAP raises the flask. “So much to discuss.” He holds it high, toasting us. “To new beginnings.”
I stare at it, and him. “Don’t you mean endings?”
The GAP shrugs. “Not at all. It’s time to celebrate. Look at Unification Day. Change is opportunity. Change is growth. For our people and our planet, and for us. Trust in change.”
Nothing about this man would inspire anything like trust.
He holds out the flask again. “Go on. It’s not poison. It’s Coki. Coconut water, lime juice, raw washed sugar. SEA Coki.” He shrugs. “SEA Colonists believe it strengthens the soul.”
I take the flask. When I drink, the water is bittersweet—tangy with lime, sweet with sugar—and then I spit it in his face.
The Sympa guard are in front of me in a heartbeat. One grabs a handful of my hair and yanks it back as hard as he can.
The GAP smiles. “Manners, Doloria. Did they teach you nothing?”
“Only to want to spit in the face of the Embassy.” As I say it, the others smile, and for a second, it feels like we are back at Santa Catalina, mocking Catallus in his classroom.
The GAP makes a great show of shaking out a handkerchief and mopping his brow.
“Such anger,” he says.
“Such a traitor,” I say.
“I haven’t forgotten the human race,” the GAP scoffs. “Isn’t that the usual charge?”
“That and being a general Brasshole,” Ro says, grinning at the GAP like he isn’t afraid of him—and his squadron of Sympas—at all. Which, knowing Ro, he probably isn’t.
“On the contrary,” says the GAP. “Keeping the human race from going extinct occupies most of my waking hours, believe it or not.”
“That’s not how it looks from here,” says Lucas.
“You’re hardly the ones to judge, now, are you, children?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” This time, it’s Tima who dares to speak up.
“Why don’t you ask the Merk, or the monk? Why don’t you ask them what happened on the day you were born, if you can call it that? Why don’t you ask them how ‘human’ the four of you really are? Before you start calling into question my own humanity.”
How human are you?
Hasn’t that been the unspoken question all along? What real human could do the things we do?
Feel the things we feel.
The words find their way home, and it’s all I can do not to give him the satisfaction of letting it show.
But my stomach churns and my heart hammers and I try to focus on his beady eyes, if only to keep from passing out.
The GAP leans closer to me, smiling conspiratorially. “Things change, Doloria. The world has changed. The old distinctions are useless. And there is no freedom better than what we already have been given. Deep down, do you not believe that for yourself?”
“No,” I say.
“But you’ve changed too. You’re not the same little Grassgirl who lived on the Mission La Purísima, are you?” He leans forward. “The things you’ve seen? The people you’ve lost? It changes you, doesn’t it? You’re not the same and the world isn’t the same. Why pretend it is?”
I feel my friends next to me.
I feel Fortis and Bibi behind us, flawed as they are.
I feel the Bishop and the Padre and my family.
I’m not giving up now.
So I keep my eyes focused on the temple perimeter. Sparrow is still hidden somewhere in that jungle, and as long as they don’t find her, I don’t care what else happens.
Then I look back at the GAP.
“No,” I say. “You’re wrong. I haven’t changed at all.”
“I have,” says Ro, stepping forward. “And here’s the thing.” Ro looks at the GAP. “I can kill you now, and you’re gone. In that scenario, there is no more GAP Miyazawa.” He grins. “And that’s what will have changed.”
“All right,” the GAP says calmly. But Ro won’t be calmed. Not now.
“Sure, another Ambassador rises to take your place—fills the tiny, tiny void left by your death—but it’s not you. And for those critical few days, the whole system goes down.”
“Stop it,” says the GAP. “You don’t understand who your real enemy is.”
He’s anxious. I can feel it. He knows exactly what Ro is capable of. He’s probably been tracking us, watching us, this whole time.
Ro especially.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do. The No Face, they may want the planet, but you’re the ones handing it to them. They may have shut down the Silent Cities, but you’re the ones building their new weapons.” For someone as crazy as Ro usually is, he’s speaking with remarkable c
larity.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says the GAP, as blankly as he can.
“The village down there? You know the one, just down the river,” Tima says, stepping forward.
Lucas looks the GAP in the eye. “You’ll have to excuse us if the prospect of being turned into human soup isn’t all that appealing.”
“What was that?” I ask, looking at the others. “Instant primordial stew?”
“Mmm,” says Ro. “Yummy.”
“You’re children,” says the GAP. “You don’t understand—this is just a game to you. You don’t know who you’re fighting against. Not like I do.”
“I think we do.” Ro holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers in the GAP’s face. “And you know what I also think? I think it’s time to torch this place.”
The GAP’s eyes widen. Before he says a word, Sympas dive for Ro, pulling weapons from their holsters.
Bad move.
That’s when the world erupts in flame—all around us. The few remaining villagers flee around us, in all directions. The screams nearly drown out the noise of gunfire as Sympas begin to fire—but the smoke makes it too difficult to see, and their weapons are soon too hot to even hold.
Ro is out of control.
Lucas and Tima and I dive to the stone floor, flinging ourselves over the walled temple perimeter, and down the stone steps into the jungle.
Doi Suthep is quickly becoming a war zone. If the GAP survives this firestorm, I think, he’s no more human than the Lords. And if Ro can set off this kind of blast, I think he might not be, either.
When the GAP’s Chopper ignites, I see it in their faces. They’re finally afraid.
When it explodes, they’re terrified.
As we watch the mountaintop go up in flames, the rock beneath our feet begins to rumble. The ground quakes and splits around me, stone twisting and erupting as easily as if it were simply mud.
I scream but the ground between us shifts too quickly, sending us rolling down different sides of a newly formed and strangely deep chasm.
I recognize the first black tendril as soon as it pushes up from the earth, uncurling like a Mission beanstalk.
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