Future Chronicles Special Edition

by Samuel Peralta

  She bent down and rubbed the icy wall. Beneath her mitten-like shelled fingers, metal became visible, cracked, rusted, and decaying. “How will your ancestors know to look for you here?”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. But I knew that family was entirely too important to the Jötnar to fuck around.

  I beckoned her head down to me. “Because they’re with me.” I held her so she could see the screen where my HUD projected. Her eyes flashed reflectively as their components widened. I scrolled through several family pictures I had, and cursed myself for ignoring my mother’s attempts to get me to take more.

  She backed away. “May you bring them pride, then. I must go. Your first challenger is at the other end. May you find each other before one of you freezes.” Ivy’s word for “challenger” sounded nearly like “elder,” so I entered the name Eld.

  I shivered and started into the labyrinth. My HUD made navigating easy, even without a map of the facility. Eld’s warmth made him glow like a beacon. I readied my gun as I moved forward, the wind already chewing me through my suit.

  I watched my HUD until I saw that Eld was just around the corner. I listened closely to the crunch of his footfalls, then threw myself out of cover to shoot.

  My blasts smashed into a plate of his carapace center-mass. It refracted some of the energy and absorbed the rest. The heat of it burned him, searing his flesh, but I could see that it was a superficial wound.

  He advanced as I took a knee to steady the rifle. I fired again, into his chest. The same panel absorbed the blast. I fired again, and several more times, peppering his head and shoulders, searching for a vulnerability.

  I noticed that the first panel was hanging askew. Heat from the blasts had melted the connective tissues holding it in place. I fired along the edge of the plate, and energy reflected off the surrounding plates into the vulnerable tendons beneath, severing the already melted tissues.

  He screamed, and he was now close enough that I could feel the moisture on his breath. The steam made it hard to aim, but I sighted the exposed flesh and fired.

  Eld collapsed.

  Sections of shell around the blast were hardening, looking alarmingly like the walls of Ivy’s abode. But his flesh was already pushing past the cauterized edges. Trickles of blood seeped out, and despite his agitated shell flicks trying to force heat-warped plates over his wounds, I could see them already beginning to freeze in the morning chill.

  I remembered Ivy’s tale. He may have been working against me, and he entered into this fight by choice—but he deserved better than a slow death from hypothermia. I positioned myself in front of his head, raised the gun one last time, and refused to shut my eyes as I pulled the trigger.

  Five

  I wondered whether I should backtrack to the entrance or wait for the Jötnar right where I was. While I thought it through, I inspected Eld’s corpse. He wasn’t much bigger than Ivy. That made sense, I thought: the challengers would go from smallest to largest. I repeated that to myself over and over, to remind myself not to get cocky.

  After some time, the Jötnar found me. Ivy came in first. She bowed her head, several plates on her neck pulling back to allow the motion. Bergrisar followed, staring at me, no doubt gauging me.

  Others trickled in, and soon they crowded every inch of space in the tunnels. I saw that one even had a camera. I raised my voice. “This tech is one of the benefits you stand to gain by allying with us.”

  Bergrisar raised up, and I shuddered at the thought of her with a gun.

  “It’s mutilated infant scrotum. That was a farce. Yours are a cowards’ weaponry: guile and aggression from a safe distance.”

  “You said I could use them,” I said.

  She opened and shut some of the crystalline panels on her face.

  I didn’t know the specifics of the gesture, but she was pissing on my lawn. A man was dead, and she seemed to want to treat it like it was nothing. Something about that look on her face was a red flag, and I was a bull. It was all I could do to keep from charging at her. “Fine,” I spat through gritted teeth. “Send the next. I’ll beat him, but let him live, to testify to my strength.”

  I offered my pistol to Ivy, then unslung my rifle and did the same. She took them with trembling hands. Her face bled concern, if I wasn’t misreading it through a human lens.

  A Jötnar slightly bigger than the one I’d just defeated stepped forward, and I immediately entered in a name: Leir.

  “So be it,” Bergrisar said. Some Jötnar turned toward the entrance, clearing an expanse in the widest portion of the room, but she didn’t, and it was an instant before I understood why.

  Leir lunged for me, and I spun to the side to avoid the blow. One of his secondary limbs lashed out as I turned, seeking to knock me off balance, so I jumped into a roundhouse kick.

  It was like kicking a steel plate.

  I ran. The gathered Jötnar backed away as I approached, and continued to back away until there was space between them for me to exit. I knew already that Bergrisar would try to spin my actions as cowardice, but I needed to survive before worrying about saving face.

  The “arena” was oddly preserved. The frost had claimed the city almost gently, and its dome had withstood long enough for the ice to reinforce it as it was overwhelmed. The only elements not coated in a layer of white powder were the braziers. They were spaced so that you could see between them, if only just; there for additional light, not for heat. They didn’t appear as weathered as the rest of the arena; I assumed they were brought down for the trial.

  I ran full speed at a brazier, and when I hit it, I tried to scoop it off the ground. It barely tipped, sending the smoldering log rolling. The fire went out. I couldn’t be sure if it was contact with the ice, or if it had safety protocols, but I could see the battery for the heavy, metal box that it was.

  I definitely wasn’t strong enough to lift the brazier, so I hefted the battery. It was a bit awkward, but it had enough weight to be useful. Then I turned back toward the gathered Jötnar. They were still in the distended circle, almost an egg. But Leir was gone.

  I heard a noise behind me, so faint I wasn’t certain. I cranked the volume on my implants. It was skittering, but then it stopped. I spun, swinging the log. It impacted the same panel on Leir’s midsection I had first kicked. The impact cracked the plating. His plates flaked off like diamonds, catching the light as they fell.

  I dodged behind him, and as he turned to face me, the plates began to fall away.

  A sticky fluid hit the floor as he circled around me. Under the shattered plate, his flesh convulsed softly. I lashed out, swinging the battery. It glanced off the previous wound, cracking the surrounding plating. I dodged underneath his flailing limbs, and he curled his torso away from another blow.

  I dropped the battery on one of his feet, then drove my fist into the most expressively pulsing organ I could see. He keened in agony, fighting to seize me with several supporting limbs, but he was distracted enough by the pain that his limbs knocked into each other uselessly behind my head.

  So, a weakness. I brought my foot against the same spot with all my strength, wincing as I used muscles I hadn’t been aware of since my mother encouraged me to study ballet on my home colony. Who’d have thought that grand battement would be used against a wounded alien, with a diplomatic treaty hanging in the balance.

  His flesh tore under my boot, and fluids slowly gushed onto my foot with a rapidly lessening pressure. As I pulled my foot away from him, his legs buckled and he lowered his head.

  I guided him onto his back on the ice while he was distracted with pain.

  He was supposed to yield, but he was a stubborn bastard. I lifted my boot, picked up the battery, and started to shove it against the wound. It didn’t quite fit, but he must have realized I was preparing to make him into a living brazier.

  “Wait,” he coughed from his back. I stopped, and he curled around his torn, fragile flesh. “I… concede.” His legs trembled as he fought
to make the gestures needed to communicate.

  I looked up to our audience. “As I said, I didn’t kill him. But let the pitiful noises he makes tell you that I am more than capable of seeing this negotiation through.”

  A medium-sized Jötnar raised her voice. “I withdraw my opposition.” Several others murmured or otherwise gestured, translated as assent through the commbox. Bergrisar clicked in agitation.

  Gýgr stood to her full height and said, “We shall carry Eld back to the court to begin mourning. Then we will see who still wishes to test the outsider’s worth.”

  One of the flat-backed Jötnar bent to allow others to strap Eld to his back, and another soon arrived for Leir. I followed as far as the court.

  I paused, unsure whether to go inside. I was Eld’s killer, after all.

  Ivy’s hand lit on the back of my neck, all soft, slightly clammy fingers rather than hard carapace. I caught her eye, and watched it widen, each reflective lens aligning itself as the lids peeled back further. I queried the commbox through my HUD, but it didn’t have a translation. I stared into her large eyes and breathed in her hand’s scent.

  Light filtered through the dome overhead and caught on the less opaque portions of her shell, turning her into a ghost of glass, haunting but beautiful. A beam cut across my face, and I fought to hide my wonder.

  She took my hand and led me inside.

  They feasted in Eld’s honor. I made a trip out to my pod, returning with some of my rations to cook for them. They tested my food before tasting it, to be sure it wasn’t going to set off any of their allergies.

  It wasn’t until midway through the festivities that I realized the trials were still in full force. Bergrisar mingled with the crowd, gladhanding. Several medium-sized Jötnar, slightly bigger than Leir, approached me and spoke. They were fascinated by both my tech and my food. After a few minutes of casual conversation, they leaned forward and informed me they would no longer oppose me.

  I mingled more. Bergrisar glared her hatred over the crowd, and I waved back to her. The initial group were the only ones who had declared the end of their opposition, but I could tell that opinions were fluid and changing. Despite her best efforts, Bergrisar had lost ground.

  As the crowd thinned out, I decided to get some air. I found myself walking in the direction of the tunnel leading toward the arena.

  Just outside the entry was a bloodied bootprint, preserved in the powder of frost that coated everything. I knelt down to look at it. It was likely Leir’s blood, so at least it wasn’t a reminder of Eld’s death. A hand gently touched my shoulder. I recognized her smell even before I turned to confirm it was Ivy.

  I widened my eyes, and sections of Ivy’s face pulled back in an imitation smile.

  Her fingers were warm, and they gave me something to focus on other than that one bloody footprint leading back to the battlefield.

  Six

  Bergrisar looked at the gathered Jötnar. “Who no longer wishes to challenge?”

  Half of those left raised limbs in assent.

  “And those who do?”

  Unfortunately, the Jötnar who responded this time were the biggest, the most fierce-looking of the bunch. I knew I had done well, but this confirmed what I had suspected: the hardest part was ahead.

  “Who wishes to challenge next?”

  One of the females stood, her carapace puffing outward to increase her size. I named her Sjórisar.

  Bergrisar clicked in agitation. “Are you sure, Sjórisar?” Even through the commbox I could pick up on her distress. I pondered whether Sjórisar was especially dear to Bergrisar. Perhaps family.

  Several Jötnar shifted with soft clacks and motions, responding to the tension. Sjórisar glared at Bergrisar. “I cannot deny your right to challenge,” Bergrisar said, in motions abrupt and violent enough that she nearly brained the Jötnar beside her—lucky for him, he dodged at the last moment. “But for this to be the true test our people require, let us increase the difficulty.”

  Sjórisar didn’t seem to like that. “You doubt my competence?”

  Bergrisar widened her eyes to tell Sjórisar to stand down. “Far from it. I propose night combat, that you may bring your full strength to bear on the outsider.”

  This was getting old.

  “She seeks advantage. Sjórisar formed in her eggs,” Ivy whispered to me, though in order for me to hear the tones and whistles accompanying her muted twitches, she had to lean close enough that I thought I might be enveloped. “Sjórisar will win, or die; anything else would shame her.”

  I sighed. “We’ll see.”

  Ivy tensed. “Do not underestimate us. We live and work underground; we see well in the dark. She can track you by smell, by heat. You have no idea what Sjórisar is capable of.”

  I wasn’t underestimating. I’d been in the security services long enough to know the value of morale. But my bravado was wearing thin. Sjórisar was nearly twenty feet tall, at least, if she stood up straight. She was a dragon, and each of her many limbs terminated in a sickle honed to a razor’s edge.

  But I couldn’t go back empty-handed. I didn’t know if Louise could ever love me, but I wouldn’t even deserve to ask if I returned with my tail between my legs. “I have to conduct myself with honor according to the rites of your people,” I told Ivy.

  Gýgr stood again and towered over Bergrisar. “You may have your night combat, Bergrisar. And the human may have his weapons.” Bergrisar clicked angrily. “We have voted—twice now. Do not buck the will of the elders.”

  Bergrisar lowered her shoulders.

  I felt lighter. Having my guns meant something. At least I could rely on the tactics I knew best. But I remembered the difficulty my weapons had had even with poor Eld.

  Ivy was still worried, but she had no further council for me. Her lids tightened around her eyes in sorrow, and I turned my attention back to the proceedings.

  “Very well then,” Gýgr continued. “At the rise of our moons we shall lead them to the arena. Provided he accepts terms.” She turned to me.

  “This treaty is too important,” I responded. “While I relish no further bloodshed, I must continue.”

  “Then let the combatants adjourn.”

  Bergrisar leveled something that might have been a glare at me.

  I nodded, and stood to return to Ivy’s shelter.

  Seven

  I rested fitfully and woke to the smell of something bitter, but with a pleasant edge. Ivy was brewing something over the fire. “Made from carrots,” she said, “and sweetened with fermented carrots.”

  She poured two cups, one for each of us, and we drank together. It had a mildly intoxicating effect, so I declined a second cup.

  Strange ululations murmured over the city. “It’s time,” Ivy said. She led me toward the arena, but to a different entrance than the one we used before. “I can’t go with you,” she said, and stepped back.

  I nodded and proceeded into the arena. The moon wasn’t as bright as I could have hoped, but its light on the snow made me remember a childhood spent sledding and making snow forts. There were no braziers here.

  I checked the charge on my rifle. I’d come prepared to defend myself, but not so armed as to cause alarm among the Jötnar. As it was, I wasn’t sure I’d have enough to carry me through, tough as the Jötnar were.

  My HUD filtered through the gloom. This area’s ruins were denser, and the HUD seemed to be having a hard time pinging through the stone, metal, and ice. Even the heat sensors couldn’t pinpoint Sjórisar’s location. So I went a short way in and stopped at the first wide clearing I could find. I built snow and rubble walls around me—and I hid. I needed an advantage, and maybe the surprise would be enough.

  I waited.

  Eventually Sjórisar appeared, scanning just past me. I sighted her in, and as she turned, I fired.

  She lashed me with her tail, demolishing my shelter.

  The scale I had hit—above her brow—was still intact. I turned up the setting
on the rifle as I rolled to avoid a second blow from her tail. She used it like a whip, to cut my legs out, to force me to the ground where she could crush me.

  I fired twice more. The first went wide. The second caught her primary arm, where the scaling was thinner, and I could smell the fat frying underneath the plating. “Bloodied insect stamens,” Sjórisar muttered.

  I glanced at my rifle charge: half gone already, and I only had one cartridge to replace it with, plus another in the demolished shelter, and then the reserve charge on my pistol.

  Sjórisar swiveled around, and I threw myself back to stay away from her tail. It grazed my shoulder with the force of an avalanche, but I managed to keep hold of the gun. I fired again, lining several shots up along her nearly twenty feet of bulk.

  She squealed as the shots tore into her, cauterizing flesh and heating her scales until they glowed. But still she came.

  Her tail swept my leg, and my ankle twisted and popped. I went sprawling, and she loomed over me, readying for the kill.

  I turned my gun to maximum charge. Whittling away at her torso wasn’t going to work. I needed to end this. I fired one more shot—clear through her head. The moon peered at me from the hole as she tipped forward.

  I realized, too late, that she was going to fall on top of me, or at least on top of my legs. I scrambled backward, but not fast enough. I screamed as she collapsed onto my knee.

  Eight

  When I managed to wiggle out from under Sjórisar’s corpse, I made an unpleasant discovery. The edges of her scales had been sharpened to razors. My suit was damaged, and there were a number of cuts across my legs and shoulder. I couldn’t tell how much blood I’d lost.

  One of my legs wouldn’t hold my weight. I forced myself to probe the wounds, and I nearly fainted when my finger brushed my shoulder bone.

  When the spots cleared from my vision, I brought my hand to my hurt leg. My finger sank into the wound mid-knuckle, and I had no doubt that some of the muscle had torn.