The Cleanway

by Tim Niederriter

  “Keep moving, I can’t hide us long,” he said.

  “Right. Stay close.”

  They bolted to the nearest vat, larger than either of them were wide, and even taller than Alesia. She hunkered beside it. He removed his hand and turned to keep watch in case someone tried to flank them. He might be a useless shot, but he had good eyes. Nobody had gotten close on his side. He squinted through the weave of catwalks, towering vats, and transparent tubes.

  He spotted Carol, though not Damien. She sat by an office at the back of the building as far from Ryan and Alesia as he could see.

  “She’s over there.” He sent Alesia the image captured by his eyes.

  “Great. How do we get there?” she said.

  “Nobody’s fired yet,” he said. “We can still negotiate.”

  “Sounds like a way to stay alive. Want to try it?”

  “My public speaking skills are kinda rusty.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it.” Alesia kept her gun in hand but aimed it at the ceiling. She raised both arms and called to the people beyond the vat. “Hey, sorry about your door. We don’t want trouble.” Her voice took on an accent more common in the outskirts of the city.

  “Who the hell are you?” called a man.

  “Inspectors from the city government,” Alesia said. “We know you’re distilling ichor here, and that ain’t particularly legal.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, lady, we got you two outgunned.”

  “You sure do. But if you kill us, this place gets taken out for sure.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Fact is, I ain’t,” said Alesia. “We have a squad of off-the-books shit-kickers waiting on our call.”

  No answer. Ryan held his breath.

  “But here’s another act,” said Alesia. “If you give us one thing we want, no one has to know you’re here.”

  “Go on,” said the leader.

  “There’s a woman in here. She’s called Carol, and if you turn her over to us, we’ll forget all about you.”

  “Is there some kind of trick? ’Cause we’re not traitors.”

  “Last time I checked, its all of you or one of her,” said Alesia. “Make a decision boss man.”

  The boss took an audible breath, halfway to a grumble. “She isn’t one of ours anyway. Her boyfriend just left her here. Henry, bring her over.”

  Ryan kept his eyes on Carol the whole time. She seemed powerless to resist as two distillery workers made her stand up. He must really have hurt her with his mental attack. The workers led her to the front of the building.

  “Alright, now spit,” said the boss. “Spits worth more than words.”

  Alesia spat on the concrete floor.

  The boss spat back. Damp speckles flecked the gray floor. The distillery workers pushed Carol toward Alesia. The renegade soldier did not resist as Alesia and Ryan guided her out of the distillery and back toward the waiting light ship. She seemed positively serene. A lot calmer than Ryan could say of his pulse.

  We followed Yashelia as best we could, but she moved fast and the brush did nothing to slow her, unlike us. Rebecca froze. I bumped into her from behind, and she stumbled forward a step.

  She steadied herself, scanning the forest. “There’s someone else here,” she said.

  “Other than Yashelia, us and the purifiers back there?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I think I saw Miranda.”

  I swallowed, thinking we were in over our heads with only Yashelia as a threat. “Alright, what do we do?” I asked.

  “Keep looking around. And stay quiet.”

  I stifled my instinctive response, then nodded.

  Rebecca turned sharply toward the brush on our left and raised her pistol. “Stop there. Stand up and show yourself.”

  A rustle in the stubborn bits of undergrowth and Miranda appeared on the far side of a row of brambles. She held her machine gun in one hand, barrel pointed into the air.

  “Fine, you beat me.” A snarl formed on Miranda’s lips. “But I’m not the one you want, right?”

  “I don’t know,” said Rebecca, holding the gun on Miranda. “You were chasing us just a few hours ago. Why?”

  “You can guess.”

  “Sudhatho ordered you.” Rebecca scowled. “So, why did that big enforcer of his go after Carol?”

  “Tooth doesn’t work for Sudhatho,” said Miranda. “He’s more your boss’s style, don’t you think?”

  “You mean,” I said, “he works for Yashelia?”

  “Precisely, genius,” said Miranda.

  I glanced at Rebecca. “So, Sudhatho and Yashelia aren’t on the same page with everything.”

  “She’s insane, so there’s only so much we can predict from her,” said Rebecca.

  “Will you shoot me already? That is if you’re planning on it.”

  “I’m making up my mind,” said Rebecca. “Now throw down the gun.”

  “I don’t think so. I’d rather die holding the damn thing.”

  “You really want to go that way?” I asked, unable to keep the horror from my voice.

  “Not my choice,” said Miranda. “That’s up to Rebecca, here.”

  Rebecca’s breath went in and out fast, but her hands on the gun remained absolutely steady.

  Miranda laughed. “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

  Rebecca’s lips twitched. She aimed upward and pulled the trigger. A cry rang from the forest back the way we had come, and it didn’t sound like Alan. Purifiers advanced through the trees. They surrounded the three of us.

  Miranda whistled. “Fine, give me to them. Shot later, instead of shot now.” She looked at one of the purifiers, none of whom I could tell apart thanks to their armor and masks. “Hey,” she said, “You kill Alan? Wait a minute, I sense him. Is anything gonna kill that bastard?”

  “Quiet,” said one of the purifiers, who then motioned to Rebecca. “Civilian, lower your weapon.”

  Rebecca obeyed, though she kept her eyes locked on Miranda.

  The renegade soldier smirked at us. “I’m not with the rogue star, you know.”

  “Be quiet,” said the purifier.

  “Why bother?” said Miranda. “It’s all over for me now. Thus ends my career of terror and bloodshed.”

  A ululating cry rang out from somewhere in the woods west of us, closer to Lotdel Tower.

  Two of the six purifiers moved between the trees to investigate.

  I frowned at Miranda. “You’re not giving up. Not really.”

  Her smirk widened.

  A yellow and gray blur ripped from the trees to the west. The purifiers whirled and opened fire as Yashelia emerged from the brush. Bullets ripped through cloth, but only a few drew golden blood. This time, the purifiers were armed with something that seemed more serious to her, but she was too quick for most of their bullets.

  Yashelia darted closer.

  Miranda dropped one purifier with a burst from her gun. Rebecca raised her pistol and fired. Blood jumped from Miranda’s collar and splashed up her neck. She staggered backward, and then bolted through the melee and out of the ruined circle. The purifiers retreated, one always shooting to keep Yashelia from pursuing.

  I pulled Rebecca with me, dragging her out of the field of fire. We stumbled and fell to the forest floor. The cold ground was covered in crunchy leaves.

  The sound of gunfire rang in my ears, nearly deafening. When the purifiers stopped shooting, everything felt dull and sounds muffled.

  Rebecca sprang into a crouch, still holding the revolver. Yashelia stood over us, bleeding from a few near-misses, but otherwise unharmed.

  “Five shots, deary,” said the lunatic aeon. “You have five shots left to kill me. Unless that is, you’d rather talk than fight.”

  I stared at Yashelia.

  Rebecca held onto the pistol and set her jaw.

  A gasp of breath escaped the fallen purifier, left on the ground after Miranda’s shot, rasping from the helmet beneath the tinted visor. Still alive.
I glanced at the fallen trooper, eyes widening involuntarily.

  “He’s dying,” I said. “We have to help him.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, dear Jethro.”

  Yashelia beamed at us, like a wicked sun. In some ways, that was exactly what she was.

  I glared at her.

  “I’m holding the gun.” Rebecca shuddered. “I’m. Holding. The. Gun.”

  What was going through her mind? I wished I knew.

  “But you don’t feel like using it? Or is it possible, you don’t have the bullets to kill me.”

  “Shut up!” Rebecca screamed and swung the barrel of the weapon to aim at Yashelia. She fired, but the aeon was gone in an instant.

  Yashelia swooped in low and grabbed Rebecca’s wrists. She twisted the revolver loose. The weapon fell into the grass and leaves between them.

  “You couldn’t shoot me, Rebecca dear. Or should I say…Rain.” She raised her hand to press to Rebecca’s forehead, preparing to clean her as she had done once before.

  “No!” I jumped up with wild adrenaline. My bulk slammed into Yashelia, and ridiculously strong mad aeon or not, she couldn’t keep her feet on the torn leaves and muddy earth. She and Rebecca fell over sideways, Yashelia unwilling to relinquish her grip.

  I stayed upright, but only barely.

  Rebecca fought and kicked and struggled with the aeon.

  Yashelia laughed at Rebecca’s blows. She caught a punch, then twisted Rebecca’s arm behind her back. Yashelia dragged Rebecca with her as she got to her feet. I stood helpless to stop what was happening. A soft sound came from behind me. A dull weight hit my heel.

  The wounded purifier had thrown me his sidearm, safety off. I picked it up as Yashelia reached for Rebecca’s forehead again. The wounds still fresh and bleeding gold through Yashelia’s clothes told me this gun carried aeon-stopping ammunition.

  “Let her go!” I shouted, gun held in both hands.

  “Jethro, you’re too peaceful for that weapon.”

  “I shot you before. I can do it again!”

  “Don’t threaten me.”

  “They came prepared this time. These aren’t Sudhatho’s purifiers, Yashelia.” I trained the weapon on Yashelia’s forehead. “This will kill you if I pull the trigger.”

  “Ah, but you’re forgetting one thing, my dear.”

  I gritted my teeth. She was right, with Yashelia’s speed, I would only hit Rebecca if I shot. I’d never had good aim.

  Rebecca’s free hand flailed, groping for Yashelia’s face. Her eyes met mine. We didn’t need ichor or words to communicate in that moment.

  “You’re right,” I said.

  I tossed the gun to Rebecca, then cringed, unable to look. She caught the weapon one-handed. Yashelia’s free fist slammed into Rebecca’s chest with an audible crack, but I prayed it wasn’t with the lethal force of momentum Yashelia had torn apart the purifiers in her garden.

  Rebecca went limp. The gun dropped from her fingers where they brushed the leaves. She hung in Yashelia’s grip, breathing harsh and rapid.

  Yashelia smiled at me. “It was a good idea, but I plan to survive this.”

  Purifiers were calling to each other, regrouping perhaps a hundred yards away through the garden.

  The rogue star shook her head. “Say goodbye to her, Jeth. After all, you care for each other so deeply.”

  Tears flowed from my eyes, unbidden, unhelpful tears.

  “I won’t,” I said, glaring at Yashelia.

  “Why not? You will never have her back this time.”

  “Rebecca, this is not goodbye,” I said, “Shelly, you can’t make me lie to her.”

  “Shelly?” The aeon burst into laughter. “You nicknamed me Shelly?” She cackled. Witches from the old stories could take lessons from Yashelia’s cackle.

  The rogue star didn’t see what I saw while she laughed. Rebecca’s eyes were open. Her fingers hung low, then wrapped around the grip of the pistol I had tossed her.

  She twisted her body in Yashelia’s grip. The shot must have been awkward for her at that angle, but it went straight through Yashelia’s free arm. Bones broke with another crack that sickened me. Even as the arm went limp my tears became triumphant.

  Rebecca aimed the gun over her shoulder at Yashelia’s face.

  Yashelia released a screech as fairy-tale as her laughter.

  She shoved Rebecca forward and released her, then leaped into the trees. Even with one arm smashed by an aeon-killer round, she rushed to the top in an instant. A second later, she leaped away through the forest and vanished from sight.

  I ran to Rebecca.

  “Rebecca,” I said, still tearful, “Thank God.”

  She embraced me, pulling me close to her warm frame, wincing as I pressed against where Yashelia had hit her. “Thank you, Jeth. You gave me two more chances than I deserved just now.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not about deserving. We’re going to live through this.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I tell the truth, remember?”

  The purifiers arrived, surrounding us again, but without their weapons raised. While a team stayed to treat their wounded trooper, the others escorted me and Rebecca out of the garden. We were lucky to be alive. The two of us stayed locked together until we were on the street again.

  Secure Memory, Anonymous Identity, Animal Monitor Feed

  In the forest, the two humans were so low as to be mostly invisible to airborne birds. The team leader switched to get a closer view from a squirrel who stared at Yashelia, the woman, and the man, as the scene unfolded. She followed the rogue star as Yashelia fled. She had to prioritize one of them, even though they were all of interest to Sudhatho.

  But the team leader could guess which was of more interest, even if she did not know why.

  She tracked Yashelia through the woods, then followed her through bird’s eyes as she slipped through the purifier cordon. Miranda was in the wind too. These renegades and stars are too much trouble, the team leader thought. Yet, Sudhatho did nothing to stop them. He knew, but he did not act.

  The lethal monster disappeared into the old underground tunnels a few blocks north of the garden. The team leader lost track of her.

  When the team leader looked back for the man and the woman, she found them talking to the purifiers, while a second woman tried to get through the perimeter to talk to them. The team leader continued to spy and reported to Sudhatho despite her misgivings.

  Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Light Ship Astra III

  Kamuek’s light ship cruised north, over the icy canal by Clearbridge.

  On the ship’s bridge, Ryan sat beside Alesia. Both of them watched Carol cautiously. She was handcuffed to the armrests of her seat. The renegade soldier sat slumped, head hanging in defeat.

  A sensory program maintained by Conner kept her sedate, half-asleep. Ryan felt certain that without Conner’s sensory disruption, Carol would be alert and cursing at them without much trouble.

  “Christ,” said Alesia, “you two sure did a number on her.”

  Ryan’s face grew hot. “I did what I thought I had to. Turns out, even that wasn’t enough.”

  “You can’t do it again, that’s certain,” said Conner from across the bridge on the other side of Kamuek and the controls. “She clearly hasn’t recovered, and we can’t risk killing her.”

  “Why not?” asked Alesia, scowling. “Her group may not actually be terrorists, but they may as well be for all I care.”

  “She hasn’t killed anyone that we know of,” said Conner. “Ryan, you don’t want blood on your hands.”

  “You’re right, Conner,” said Ryan. “Even if I did attack again, I don’t know if it would work. I didn’t want to do it the first time, but the interrogator ordered me.”

  Conner nodded.

  Alesia shook her head, eyes cold.

  Kamuek glanced at them from behind the controls. “If it matters, I agree with Conner as well. She is still human
.”

  “Don’t get high and mighty with me,” said Alesia. “We all know she works for an aeon who is supposedly sane. Yet, he’s the one employing goddamn terrorists all over the city! These people deserve what they get!” She slammed her fist into her palm.

  “You have a point, Alesia, but calm down.” Ryan leaned forward and steepled his fingers. He looked at Carol, who seemed only vaguely aware of his gaze. “In the state she’s in, we may be able to get what we want without inflicting pain, either way.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Alesia. “How?”

  Conner turned toward them again. “Suggestive illusion. Right, Ryan?”

  “Yes.” Ryan inclined his hands toward Alesia. “Her senses are still muddled from my attack.”

  He stood up and motioned for Alesia to follow him. They walked to Conner’s side of the ship.

  “There are three of us, which is good. She has three companions, two men, and one woman, so this should be simpler. We’re going to take on their roles.” He looked at Alesia. “You remember Miranda from Carol’s memories, right?”

  “Kind of an annoying joker as well as a comrade in arms, yeah.”

  Conner nodded to Ryan. “You’re the most physically similar to Damien. I can play Alan.”

  “Good,” said Ryan. “You can start by talking about the mission. Alesia, you can throw in a joke or two, and then I’ll ask her to remind me what we’re fighting for. Got it?”

  “I think so,” said Alesia. “But will she really think that we’re her friends?”

  “With a little sensory illusion from Conner, sure,” said Ryan. “You can handle that while playing Alan, right?”

  “Who do you take me for?” Conner grinned. “I’ve already begun.”

  The three of them returned to the passenger seats on the other side of the bridge. Ryan couldn’t tell what Conner’s illusions were doing to Carol. But she looked up at them, still dazed, but eyes brighter than before.

  “You’re here!” she said, “how did you three get on board?”

  Conner motioned toward Ryan.

  “Trust me,” said Ryan, “We’re here to get you out.”

  “Damien—” Carol struggled against the cuffs.