The God Mars Book Five: Onryo

by Michael Rizzo

  “Dee, can you guarantee these things are no threat?” Straker refocuses us.

  “I can work on them outside the wall. If Fohat manages to hack back in, I can set a failsafe to shut them down.”

  “Would that kill the organic aspects?” I ask, like I care about the lives of butchered enemies. Dee doesn’t answer.

  “I’ll help,” Stilson offers. Dee nods.

  “You need to eat,” Straker tells me what she must be reading.

  “You three more than I,” I correct, nodding back at her and the Carters.

  “Then you will eat,” Khan insists, though still clearly wary of me.

  “Nothing else is incoming,” Dee assures. “I’ll call if that changes.”

  We put away our weapons and let Khan’s guards lead us in through the Wall. I have to move like I’ve never been here before without overselling it. But before we make it across the inner clearing, Negev comes running from the colony, and speaks with Khan urgently and discreetly. I’m afraid I can’t help but eavesdrop, and then I have to force myself not to react.

  Terina is missing.

  Negev explains that he was gathering the colony elite, taking them to the shelter of the cliff rooms, when Terina proved nowhere to be found. Khan asks if there has been any sign of incursion, and I desperately want to know what that means, but Negev insists there has been no sign of entry. Khan orders him to search again, up into the “higher houses,” and he runs off.

  Khan doesn’t explain anything, but the others all look at him with concern. He says nothing, keeps his face absolutely stoic, and we’re led up through the colony and to the Oculus.

  But instead of being taken to the main chamber, we’re taken through it, behind it, down through narrow cut corridors that have to be lit by small burning sticks in order to see without night vision enhancements. The passage seems to take us underground, where we come to a large chamber, also lit with small flames. In the center is a long table, gathered around which are the other Kings and their advisors. Laid on the table are hardcopy maps, lists, notes. I see handmade technical drawings of bots and Harvester modules.

  This is a council of war.

  Khan steps around the table to join his fellows, who all eye me nervously. I’m surprised they decided to bring me here, put me in close proximity to their leaders. Apparently they’ve come to trust my Modded fellows in these few days, and I’m being given the benefit of association, or maybe for the service I’ve given today. I listen while Khan gives his casualty report: Two of his warriors were killed and three seriously injured by bot fire as they defended the Wall.

  Then Khan turns and addresses me formally:

  “You will tell us your life. Who you are and where you came from.”

  It’s to be a variation of the newcomer ritual, only for a more intimate audience.

  I let Peter tell his story as mine: His mission, coming to Mars, his family. His visit to the Barrow. Thel’s madness. The flight of “some of his crewmen in a recon ship” (he does not name them Drake, as my father would know that name). The murder of his family. His unexpected resurrection and conversion. His acts of vengeance. His entrapment.

  “When your people came and found my ship, I was released. The battle you fought with the Keepers provided me what I needed to rebuild. I took some of their bodies for resources, but spared your fallen warriors out of respect and gratitude. Then I went to continue my vendetta, and discovered your prisoners…”

  I realize my father is glaring at me again. Does he doubt my edited tale, or is it something else?

  “…returned a few days later to find that the Keepers had abandoned Eureka and taken shelter in bunkers up in the slopes. When they returned to take slaves, I went and punished them again, this time meeting Colonel Ram, who was able to disable many of their weapons and take others for use defending your colony.”

  “City,” is the only correction I get, from Khan himself. “Katar is a City.”

  “Why did you come here?”Akinaga asks.

  “My technology allows me to communicate with those like me,” I distort a bit. “I met Jak Straker during the battle at Eureka, and then again when I returned. I already told you of meeting Ram. We agreed to aid each other against our mutual enemies, the monsters like us who attack you.”

  “We Value your assistance,” Khan gives me, but still with clear suspicion.

  “I’m happy to give it. Your enemies are mine.”

  “Bring food,” Khan commands. A few of the civilian-dressed give quick short bows and leave.

  We stand in tense silence as Khan continues to brief the other Kings regarding today’s battle.

  “Peter,” I request in my head. “Ask the others why I can’t communicate with them at will like they can.”

  “Bel thinks it’s because you don’t have ‘administrative control’,” Straker answers in my thoughts after a moment, apparently having asked for my benefit. “Peter does.”

  I suppress my frustration, and try to get into a rhythm of asking my questions through Peter.

  “This is the first time Asmodeus has sent bots?”

  “First time to Katar,” Straker tells me. “First time in weeks to Pax. Apparently he’s been holding them in reserve.”

  “We just don’t know why he deployed them now,” Erickson interjects in my head. “He’d been sending Harvesters steadily. Then nothing for a day.”

  “Same thing in the South Blade,” I let him know through Peter. Then I worry that bots have been dispatched to Eureka in my absence. I check my drone feeds.

  “He’s up to something,” Elias decides, inserting himself in our discreet conversation.

  “The only thing he’s done is waste his toys,” Erickson discounts.

  “He’s got us all in two locations,” Straker realizes.

  “Will your people reinforce us?” I ask the Carters. They look dour.

  “They’ve agreed to help develop a defense against the Harvesters,” Erickson tells me internally. I can see the frustration in his metallic eyes.

  “But no Guardian Forces?”

  “The Council still feels we’re all being manipulated by Yod,” Elias explains heavily. “They refuse to play into whatever his larger game is.”

  “They’re not wrong,” I allow. “But these people’s lives are real. Will they let them die just to prove they can defy a being that can remake them on a molecular level?” But that makes me think. I confront the Carters: “Are they working on a defense? A way to beat Yod?”

  I don’t get an answer from any of them. I may have just done something stupid, communicating about it in a way Yod can likely hear.

  “They may just be trying to get Yod to show himself,” I suggest, downplaying the more dangerous possibility. “Like Chang did when he fired on Green Station.”

  “We have a more pressing problem,” Straker distracts, tapping her finger to her mouth as our meal is carried in. “How are you going to eat in front of your father?”

  The Katar set out a feast of breads, stews and fresh fruits. I also see pale and almost gelatinous morsels, with a smell that vaguely reminds me of bad breath and the Dragon Jerky that made me ill. Since the serving tray is decorated with their iridescent wings, I expect the dish is indeed some rendering of Dragonfly. And there’s something that resembles a section of large intestine, only with stunted insect legs on each section. It’s been given the Bar-Bee-Cue treatment and sliced vertically into thin disks.

  Caterpillar, Peter reminds me. I was afraid I’d seen it before, in its pre-charred and pre-sliced state. I saw my first one as we were out hunting Harvesters. The strange circular cuts in the leaves got my attention again, and I took the time to go looking for the culprit. Alive, they’re cold, slow moving, and keep themselves visually hidden as they eat. They have fearsome bladed mouths, but apparently only hunger for plant matter. One day I saw a Dragonfly swoop in and carry one off. It was barely able to fight back. Freakish thing. But the Pax ancestors brought the DNA to Mars with purpose
, and engineered them to withstand the environment and—for some unclear reason—to grow many times the size they were on Earth. I wonder if their size is about surviving the environment or the differences in gravity, or if they’d planned them to provide protein for us as well as the Dragons.

  I also remember our feast with the Pax, how they served us the charred flesh of much larger and warm-blooded creatures, and how Ram warned that those of us who had never eaten meat or “day-ree” could get sick because we lacked certain enzymes. But then I saw him and the other Modded eat freely of it, even ravenously, including the recently Companion-Bound.

  There are cultures on Earth who eat these things as a delicacy, Peter encourages. Who knows? It might be delicious. I’m game if you are, lad.

  “What about the mask?” I ask in my head, as our hosts bid us to sit and dine with them.

  Trust me.

  I feel my face… shift. It feels like all the blood is rushing in, swelling the tissues. But then I feel bones move, stretch. My skin seems to go tight, then relaxes.

  I cautiously unseal my skull-face and throat guard, and lower it down around my neck on its cords. The shock reaction I get doesn’t come from my father—he still glares at me like I’ve deeply wronged him—but from Straker and the Carters. I lock Straker’s eyes, and she flashes me what she sees:

  I’m Peter. Or a younger, stronger version of him. I feel shaky.

  I promise it’s not permanent, lad. I’ll put it back to yours when we’re out of here.

  That’s not very comforting.

  Our hosts bid us to sit across the long table from them, and trays are passed around. The Katar eat heartily but neatly, with a variety of what appear to be hand-crafted utensils.

  I do try the cooked flesh morsels. I think Peter enjoys them more than I do. I find the texture especially disturbing, and the flavors are too unusual for my palate. I eat politely, accepting the Katar gift of food, but focus on the beans, grains and fresh fruits.

  We are also provided tea and water, as well as a strong milky beverage that our hosts call “Sockay”. I notice my father politely declines, and I suspect I should because of my faith, but this may reveal me. While I‘m struggling with this, Peter chooses for me, apparently having a preference for the drink. It’s slightly sweet, and burns a little on the way down.

  It’s a home-brewed grain and yeast culture wine, Peter explains, accepting another cup from Akinaga. Or more accurately a beer. It’s about 18% alcohol, but it shouldn’t affect us much. Unfortunately.

  My gauges tell me it’s high in carbohydrates, but that seems to be its only practical value. The odd flavor, however, grows on me much quicker than the insect meats. And our hosts appear to appreciate that I’m appreciating it, like we’ve established some important common ground. I even think I catch the quickest grin from Khan. (I wonder how he would react if he knew who I really am, or half am.)

  But Khan is clearly preoccupied. We’re reaching our fills of food and drink when Negev comes in, looking dour. He whispers in Khan’s ear to be discreet, but I can hear what he’s saying. Then Khan shares the news with everyone else:

  “My daughter is missing. It seems of her own intent, as she slipped away from her handmen. There have been no signs of incursion. My men have searched every room, rock and shelter. She is not in the City.”

  “Is there any other way out of the canyon?” I blurt out. At least Khan seems to appreciate my attention, but his fellows seem unwilling to answer the question. After several tense seconds, Khan decides to trust us.

  “There are unused tunnels. The Terraformers drilled them for us as escape routes, should our Wall be breached. They felt it would reduce violence if we were able to retreat rather than be trapped. They have never been used.”

  Negev, looking like he hadn’t considered the possibility, runs to check these exits.

  “Why would she leave?” Erickson asks before I can.

  Akinaga looks suddenly ill.

  “Kah-Terina came to me to talk about your live blades.” He nods at the Companions. “She told me there was one more, that she almost accepted bonding with it during your journey together, but the machine would have enslaved her.”

  “That threat has been resolved,” Elias explains. “It’s just a matter of compatibility.”

  “But we already know the Blade was willing to take her,” Erickson considers darkly.

  “That Blade is inaccessible,” my father—who was also almost taken by the thing—insists. “It lies across the Hot Zone. And a large body of deep standing water, several kilometers across. And usually invisible from this side.”

  “The legend of the Occasional Lake?” Taloff, the Merchant King, asks like this is an old camp tale. So Yod has let his barriers be seen before. (To what purpose?)

  “She spoke of the living sword to me as well,” Khan admits heavily. “She tried to convince me that it could help protect us from the demon’s horrors. She wanted to take a scouting party, and try to find the route of the Lost Century. I denied her. I told her I would not give any of our warriors to such a fate, having their bodies and minds corrupted and slaved to a machine that feeds itself on the flesh of others.”

  He doesn’t care that he’s just insulted three of those who have come to protect his people, his city.

  “Why did she go alone?” Almquist, the Engineer King, asks.

  “If she can’t find a way through the radiation, she may dare a lethal dose, and hope the Companion will heal her before she dies,” Elias grimly guesses, realizing his insensitivity too late. I can see the terrible fear of a parent under Khan’s stoic façade.

  “What about the Lake?” Erickson wonders.

  I wonder if she’d been thinking about doing this before we left the company of the Forge. Did she ask them where their passage was, hoping it might be found again? But I know she’ll only find a way across the barriers if Yod wants her to have the Blade. If he doesn’t, I’m sure he’ll let her die trying. If he does… That possibility is just as callous.

  Chapter 4: Yod’s Will

  With a good guess where she’s gone, Khan meets Negev at the hidden entrance to the escape tunnel that passes through the north wall of the canyon. The opening is covered by an ingeniously hinged solid stone door, and I can see that the rocks above the entrance have been rigged to slide and bury it. I can also see sign in the dust that someone—one person, but dragging something heavy on rails—has recently passed through the door.

  “Do we know how long she’s been gone?” Erickson asks Khan. He defers to Negev.

  “She was last seen at sunrise breakfast, then told her handmen she was going to bathe.”

  She may have several hours head start on us.

  The tunnel into the ridge is really only wide enough for one person to pass at a time, and is unlit. With my enhanced vision, I can see her tracks in the dust. She looks like she was moving in a hurry. But there are also the parallel marks that tell me she was dragging something on a small but solid sledge. That implies she’d been planning long enough to pack something bigger than she could carry.

  Did she figure out a way to get across to the Barrow?

  “Do your people still keep pressure suits?” Peter asks through me.

  Khan looks to Negev, who runs to check something. I assume the answer is yes.

  “Would a pressure suit protect her from the radiation?” Straker doesn’t believe.

  “It would protect her from the water,” Elias decides. “And perhaps shield her enough to survive exposure long enough to get to the Barrow.”

  “And what about Chang?” Straker discreetly asks in our heads, her bright green eyes wide with worry, reminding us “Yod left him to guard the last Companion. Is he just going to let her take it?”

  “If she fails, she dies,” Erickson says out loud before he realizes our company, his turn to be insensitive. He turns to Khan. “I’m sorry.”

  Khan is stone-faced, but he still can’t completely hide his pain, his panic. This
is the most human—the most vulnerable—I’ve ever seen him. But he keeps his airs. He is a king, after all, and a warrior, and his people are counting on him to be so, especially now.

  He calls his warriors, tells them to prepare to move out.

  “It’s not safe,” Straker warns them firmly. “The radiation will be fatal to you. Then there’s the water…”

  He doesn’t seem willing to just give up, no matter how suicidal the mission. But his people need him. So

  “I’ll go,” I volunteer myself, however selfishly. I’m going if he agrees or not. “I can move faster than you anyway, cover more ground. And I can survive the radiation.” But I know as I say it that it may only be Peter that survives.

  Khan reluctantly nods his agreement.

  “One of us should go too,” Erickson insists, speaking for Straker and his brother. “If she gets to the Companion and it takes control over her…”

  “The radiation may destroy your brain,” I warn him. “Your Blade will heal your body, but you won’t be you anymore.”

  “Acceptable risk,” he won’t be discouraged. “Terina is a friend.” Then he turns to Elias and Straker. “You two need to stay here, to help protect the City.”

  They also reluctantly agree to duty over desire.

  “We’ll find her and bring her back,” I assure Khan, and put my mask back on.

  Neither Erickson nor I need light to get through the tunnel, which bores through the Spine on a lazy curve for what I estimate is nearly two kilometers. I’m impressed by the engineering, the accomplishment, but then I remember that the Jinn have machines that bore many kilometers into solid rock to tap for deep-underground permafrost as well as minerals. Perhaps they used one of their “taps” to do this, and milked the mountain for water and raw materials while they were at it. I catch Erickson caressing the cut stone now and then, like he’s appreciating the work, or maybe it’s reminding him of home.

  But then I consider that the claustrophobia of the tunnel presents a fatal flaw: If they were to move large numbers of people through here, pack them in, there is no noticeable ventilation. They would suffocate long before making the far exit.