Allie's War Season Four

by JC Andrijeski

  Vikram stood where he was, his hands still above his head, as Stanley approached.

  Chandre watched Stanley frisk the Indian seer. Stanley was thorough. Chandre saw him check each of Vikram’s boots, the inside of the leather and feeling over his socks as well as instructing him to lift his feet to check the soles, feeling over the edges for hidden panels. Rising smoothly to his feet, he checked Vikram’s armored pants next, checking his inseam, then his belt, his vest, the lining of his coat. He took the gun off of Vikram’s holster in the process, showing it to Chandre by holding it up sideways, then shoving it into his own vest.

  Chandre glanced at Varlan again.

  The older seer nodded. He’d scanned Vikram’s light a second time...probably a third, since he’d been trained in both the Adhipan and the Org.

  He’d found nothing.

  Chandre felt her shoulders relax.

  “Okay,” she said through the link. “We need to move.”

  “Now?” Rig asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, deciding even as she spoke. “...We’ll finish this indoors.”

  Looking at the car, she motioned to Damon and Anale with a few quick gestures.

  Bowing slightly with no discernible irony, Varlan gave her a solemn nod, too, then walked to the car, where he opened the door next to where Tarsi sat. He bowed also to Tarsi, extending a hand to help her out of the car. Chandre glanced over to see Yarli approach from the east, standing guard as Damon and Anale approached the car to help Varlan.

  Stanley and Vikram approached, too, but Stanley kept his hand on the smaller seer’s shoulder in an obviously cautioning gesture. He didn’t let Vikram get too close to the armored car, but steered him directly towards the now-open door at the back of the Tower.

  When Chandre looked back to the building itself, Surli held open the door, with Dante once more hunched over the flat console she held in both hands. Stanley stood with Vikram to one side of that door, a yard or so from Dante, who kept grinning at Vikram, and trying to communicate with him with hand signals. Stanley motioned for both of them to cut it out, and Vikram did, but Dante ignored him, and kept gesturing with one hand to Vikram until Chandre clicked at her, making a sharp motion.

  “Stop,” she said.

  That time, Dante did, but she rolled her eyes at Chandre, blowing up her raggedly cut bangs to emphasize the point.

  Chandre ignored both, although inside, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

  Teenagers. Gods.

  Looking back to the armored car, Chandre watched as Anale and Rig picked up the Bridge’s body, pulling her carefully to the edge of the car. Varlan stood to one side, Tarsi’s fingers gripping the ex-Rook’s arm in an almost comically grandmotherly pose.

  Then Rig bent down, picking the Bridge’s body up by himself. He hoisted her easily against his chest, his arms under her shoulders and knees.

  Chandre found herself looking at the lifeless face of the Bridge once it faced the sky, her dark hair hanging down from behind Rig’s arm. Her face looked as pale as marble, lifeless without those sharp green eyes. She could have been asleep, though, not dead. Only the complete absence of her living light distinguished her from that other, less-permanent state.

  Feeling her jaw tighten, Chandre forced her eyes off that smooth face, looking at the old woman, instead. She fought with an emotional reaction, trying to suppress it.

  Instead, she ended up aiming that emotion at Tarsi.

  “You want to tell me why we’re dragging the Bridge’s corpse around with us, old woman?” she said. “Or is that a secret, too?”

  She spoke aloud, across the several yards standing between them.

  Hearing her own words, Chandre winced at the sound, then realized that any noise they made now likely wouldn’t matter anyway. If someone watched them from inside or outside the building, they wouldn’t need to rely on sound to find them. Thinking about this, Chandre frowned, again looking at the light-less body hanging limply from Rig’s arms.

  Her shoulders tensed as she stared.

  “I have a feeling her husband wouldn’t approve of this,” Chandre said, her voice lower that time. “Or her brother,” she added. “...Are you thinking we won’t see them inside?”

  Tarsi shocked her, giving her a grin.

  “Stop being such a baby,” she said. “We need to get her closer.”

  “Closer?” Chandre’s frown deepened. “Closer to what, old woman?”

  “To the child,” Tarsi said, as if that much were obvious. “...And to the Sword.”

  Chandre’s felt her muscles tighten all over again.

  She didn’t answer right away, though. Mostly because she had no idea where to start.

  She followed Tarsi with her eyes as the old woman walked, still clutching Varlan’s jacketed arm in one pale hand. The two of them and Damon followed after Rig, who held Allie out in front of him, his arms supporting her as delicately as if the Bridge’s body were made of antique china. Chandre’s eyes returned to Tarsi seconds later, maybe to avoid staring at that overly-pale face that lacked all of the life and expression Chandre remembered.

  Tarsi herself looked misleadingly frail as she hunched against the wind, blinking up at the rain that had once more started to fall, her dark hair already damp and glistening in the light from the nearby consoles. Wearing nothing but a traditional black dress from Asia, the old woman leaned on Varlan’s arm with one hand as she walked, navigating her cane with the other.

  She really did look like one of Vash’s people. Perhaps she had been living in ice caves for too long. Perhaps the old woman had lost sight of how the world worked.

  “I heard that,” Tarsi muttered.

  “Maybe you were meant to,” Chandre retorted, without missing a beat, irritated with the ancient seer all over again for some reason.

  “Hmmph,” Tarsi said. “Another brat. Figures.”

  Chandre rolled her eyes, clicking. “Who was the first one?” she said.

  “Who you think?” Tarsi said in her oddly lilting patois. She clicked softly, too, even as a smile crept up her face. “...The Bridge. Only she quiet now. No smart mouth now, eh?”

  Tarsi chuckled at her own words.

  For some reason, Varlan found the old woman’s words amusing, too. He winked at Chandre as they passed, smiling at her as he clicked softly in humor.

  Chandre followed after them, unsure if she should be irritated or appalled.

  She glanced back at Yarli when the African seer slammed the door shut on the armored vehicle. Yarli took her place in the line entering the Tower, following Tarsi, with Stanley falling in behind her. Chandre saw a faint smile on the African woman’s face, too, and felt her own mouth and forehead tighten in frustration as she turned to watch Rig carry Allie through the dark doorway. She stepped into the line behind Tarsi, still watching the street, her gun gripped in her hand.

  In front of her, the old woman walked carefully but steadily over the segmented pavement, guiding Varlan to skirt trash and broken bottles, looking both ways down the street without slowing, and altogether acting as if their location, the time of night and their current circumstances were the most natural and inevitable thing in the world.

  Tarsi touched Dante’s cheek fondly as she passed through the door, and the kid grinned at her, looking like a teenaged scarecrow in her hoodie sweatshirt and too-large jeans cinched by that silver-studded leather belt. The belt looked more like a dog collar than an article of clothing to Chandre. Behind her, still holding Vikram by one shoulder, Stanley burst out in an involuntary-sounding laugh.

  Ignoring him, Chandre smacked the kid, Dante, on the shoulder to get her to stop signing to Vikram and to go inside with the others. When the girl looked over with a scowl, Chandre met her gaze unflinchingly, motioning with her head for the kid to go through the opening––or else––even as she caught hold of the organic-paned door with one hand.

  “Inside,” Chandre told her, her voice abrupt, but not harsh. Grunting, she motioned towar
ds the door. “Don’t stand out here like some servant. You are wonder girl, are you not? Get inside, before someone decides to shoot you...or to not give you that car.”

  “Yeah, right, like that would ever happen,” Dante snorted. “And hey, what’s with the manhandling? Vik’s one of the good guys. Where’ve you been?”

  “Nothing can be certain anymore, little one.”

  “Vik is,” she said, her voice holding a warning that time.

  Chandre smiled, in spite of herself. “I hope you are right, cousin. I myself, I know very little these days. Now get your ass inside...or will you make me drag you?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dante grinned.

  “She just might,” Stanley muttered.

  Chandre glared at him, feeling a surge of real anger. “You do think little of me, brother. This one is less than a cub...she is still a toddler!”

  When Chandre turned that time, she scowled openly at the teenager. “Inside, or I will become like a human parent and spank you. Would you prefer that?”

  “Whatever you’re into,” Dante said, rolling her eyes.

  That time, Chandre felt her cheeks flush hot with fury, but when she looked at the young human, she saw her grinning at her. Just then, Vikram burst out in an involuntary laugh, too. When Chandre glared at him as well, he motioned her off with an apologetic wave.

  “It is not you, sister...it is her. She embarrasses me in such ways all the time.” He gave Dante an affectionate smile. “Don’t be angry...she is just a cub.”

  Still fuming, Chandre glared back at Dante.

  Dante grinned at her, winking. “I didn’t say I’d mind,” she said, shaking her hair out of her face as she stared at Chandre defiantly. “...What are you so bent for? From what I hear, I’m exactly your type...right?”

  “She’s teasing you, sister,” Stanley said, clicking at Chandre softly. “According to Vikram, it is her favorite pastime with the techs...”

  “We might have to train that hobby out of her,” Chandre muttered darkly.

  That time, Stanley and Vikram both laughed, and Chandre was forced to admit defeat when she saw the kid grinning at her once more.

  When Chandre motioned her sharply towards the door that time, however, Dante strolled through, giving Chandre a last smile before she focused back on the monitor still clutched in one hand. She walked through the doorway of the building without looking up from that monitor again, following the direction of the jerked motion of Chandre’s fingers. Surli went in next, then Damon, as soon as Chandre motioned for him to release the door, too. Chandre took Dante’s place by the door, standing guard as Yarli followed.

  Chandre exchanged a quick look with Stanley then, who came in last, bringing Vikram in with him.

  You really think he’s clean? Chandre sent quietly.

  Stanley gave her a brief look, then nodded, once. I do, sister. He seemed genuinely worried about the girl. It seems that brother Jon made Dante his responsibility. He assumed her a captive...or dead, as he said.

  Chandre exhaled, still feeling a few extra nerves tremble under her skin. All right. Let him go once we get inside...but keep an eye on him. Did he track us through the girl?

  Yes, Stanley sent, promptly enough that he must have asked the question of Vikram himself. He hacked her implant. When he let me read him, I saw that he didn’t tell the others he had such an implant on her. He seemed quite genuinely relieved to find Anale with us, too, and to find you in charge of our operation on the ground. He is confused, yes...but likely no more than the rest of us. Stanley glanced back at her, flashing a white smile in the dark. I think he had expected the worst, coming here...although he told Balidor where he was going.

  Chandre frowned again, trying to think.

  Do you know what the hell she is up to? Chandre asked the dark-skinned seer, motioning towards the inside of the Tower. The old woman. Tarsi?

  No, sister, Stanley replied. His trademark humor grew more prevalent in his thoughts. But she certainly seems to know, so I’m willing to risk it. Or are you questioning her loyalty, too...?

  Chandre didn’t bother to answer that.

  Nodding, to herself that time and not in answer to his question, she found her mind drifting elsewhere again.

  Any news on Balidor? she sent to him next, frowning. Ditrini?

  Only what I picked up off Vikram, sister, Stanley replied at once. Nothing is changed from what I told you before. Yarli continues to monitor their construct when she can. She has a personal interest, as you may know.

  Chandre nodded to that, too, feeling her jaw clench slightly.

  They are still evacuating then? she sent.

  Yes, sister.

  Did they know we are listening in?

  No, Stanley said. Pausing, he made a ‘more-or-less’ gesture with one hand. I do not think so...not unless they suspect other eavesdroppers and are encrypting their communications even within their own construct, which is always a possibility. According to Yarli, that is unlikely. She is using a back-door frequency given to her by Balidor personally.

  And what has she heard? Chandre sent again, releasing the door behind her as she spoke.

  The door began to close, leaving the hallway even darker than before.

  They still think Ditrini took the Bridge, Stanley sent. They think he and Ute have kidnapped Tarsi and the girl, Dante...and stolen the Bridge’s body. They think Anale might have been turned and is working as an agent of Shadow.

  Chandre frowned, glancing ahead at the tall, female seer who walked light-footed but protectively alongside Rig, who still held the body of the Bridge. Anale walked soundlessly, a gun in her hand, a gun she aimed down the dark corridor leading to the lobby.

  They were inside the building’s back foyer now.

  Still frowning, Chandre continued to walk down the same hallway. Once the door clicked shut completely behind them, the hallway fell into pitch darkness. Within a few more steps, they reached the edge of the front foyer, where the ceiling opened up, and Chandre found herself standing in a dimly lit alcove, just behind the building’s main security station.

  Through the open wall in front of them, Chandre saw soldiers in military uniforms, holding much bigger guns than the ones they carried.

  Not many soldiers, though, she noted, and the tanks had apparently moved on...perhaps to join the others by the hotel. Chandre watched as Anale ventured carefully into the main lobby, sticking to the shadows by the wall and holding her gun out in an openly ready position. She left Rig, the Bridge, Tarsi and Varlan standing just behind and to the left of the security desk, and under full cover from those soldiers stationed out in front of the Tower.

  Chandre blinked into the dim lighting of the high-ceilinged main lobby, and then down at floors covered with expensive and real-looking stone tile.

  In front of her, just visible past the L-shaped bend in the corridor, Chandre could see two rows of elevators, in full view of the security station.

  But that wasn’t what caught her eye.

  “What the dugra a’ kitre happened here?” she muttered.

  Copying Anale, she raised her sidearm to shoulder level, pushing Tarsi deeper into the alcove behind the security station before signaling Varlan to stay with her. The older seer nodded, his violet eyes shining faintly in the dim light through the shattered transparent wall that had once faced the park. Chandre felt her whole body tense when the sound of engines and machinery grew audible on the street outside. She could tell by the sound that whatever they were, they were still a few blocks away, but moving closer, and at a relatively fast clip.

  She looked back at the floor of the lobby, trying to think.

  Dead bodies lay just in front of the security desk, too.

  In death, Chandre couldn’t tell at first if they were human or seer. Finally she noted that a few of the taller bodies lying nearby wore slightly different uniforms from the other dead bodies on the stone floor. She pegged those taller corpses as belonging to seers, and on
ce she noted the difference in uniform, identification of race grew easier.

  Almost three dozen bodies spread across the room as a whole, or so she estimated from her cursory scan. Only about a quarter of those were seer.

  She knew she was stalling though. She had to think faster.

  Chandre watched Rig walk gingerly around a few more bodies that lay collapsed along the wall, still holding the Bridge carefully in his arms. She motioned for him to stay still, then did another visual sweep of the room, before frowning at the jacked open elevator shafts. She looked behind her then, for the doorway to the stairs. That door had bullet holes in it as well, and the handle looked misshapen, as if it had been melted into some perverse shape.

  Looking down the next corridor, Chandre saw what might have been a second security staircase. That one’s door remained ajar. A dead body propped it open in that state, the body crammed sideways into the opening and covered in enhanced Kevlar. Chandre saw more bodies by one of the elevator shafts, along with at least one gun that appeared to have exploded, leaving black scorch marks and broken tile.

  She caught Dante’s face then and winced, seeing how pale the kid had gotten as she stared around at all of the blood and death. The greenish glow of the monitor she held made her look ghostly in the dark, and even paler than she’d looked outside. Chandre saw her full-lipped mouth firm, a sickly expression on her face before she looked away from the nearest of the fallen bodies. Chandre followed where the kid’s eyes had been staring, seeing the bullet hole in the female’s head that had exploded out the back of her skull.

  “Which way, old woman?” Chandre said, swiveling her gaze to Tarsi. She used the link, switching to subvocals to remain silent. “Up or down?”

  The woman seemed to think for a moment.

  Up, she motioned in sign language.

  Chandre frowned. From the open elevator shafts, it sure as hell looked like the Sword and the others had gone down. And that’s where the construct seemed to be the most intense, from everything Varlan and Yarli told them outside.