Survival Aptitude Test: Fury (The Extinction Odyssey Book 2)

by Mike Sheriff

  “An aerostat was just stolen from the southern aerodrome,” Pyros said.

  “By whom?”

  “Two denizens and two prospects.” Pyros’ audible exhale smacked of ill tidings. “One of them dropped a quantum tile. The fingerprints recovered from it match Daoren’s.”

  The Unum bellowed with rasplaughter.

  Pyros and Cang exchanged perplexed glances, seemingly flummoxed by the mirth.

  The Unum recovered, chucklebucking. “For a moment there, I thought you said the fingerprints matched Daoren’s.”

  “I did,” Pyros said.

  The Unum made fists, squeezing so hard his knuckles cracked. “Are you saying that Daoren and the others evaded hundreds of Jireni?” He motioned to the sinkhole. “And this?”

  “It appears so.”

  He glared at Cang. “You said there were two excavation tunnels! Didn’t you have men positioned in both?”

  “Yes, Unum,” Cang said. “There must have been a third tunnel.”

  Slag-hot bile erupted from the Unum’s gut, coursing up his throat and into his head. The searing pressure increased until he was certain his skull would split. Why in the name of sapient Sha was it so hard to cull the boy? Was he that resourceful? Were the Jireni that inept?

  A chilling notion quenched his ire—what if resourcefulness and ineptitude weren’t to blame? What if a more malevolent force was at work? He sifted through the setbacks of the last twenty-four hours. The Jiren who allowed Heqet to interact with Daoren before the S.A.T.; could he have been acting under orders? Laoshi and Cordelia’s escape outside the Center and this latest escape from the subterranean site; could they have been facilitated by warnings from a well-placed Jiren?

  Shouts of alarm arose from the Jireni on the far side of the sinkhole. The clamor interrupted the rumination. “What’s happening over there?”

  “I don’t know,” Pyros said.

  The Unum led the others around the sinkhole, where Jireni gathered around a dust-streaked figure. It took a few seconds to determine that the tarnished, trembling figure was another Jiren. The man looked as though he’d crawled through a million tons of rock. Blood trickled from a deep gash on his head.

  “Jiren,” the Unum said. “Were you in the void?”

  “I was, Unum.”

  “Are there other survivors?” Cang asked.

  “The slag brought the roof down on my comrades, he did. They’re gone.”

  “You saw Daoren escape?” the Unum asked.

  “That I did, Unum. Followed him and the others into a tunnel, praise be to Sha, but I couldn’t keep up with them. That old Librarian clouted me good. Dazed me, it did. But I managed to grab this off him, out of his satchel.”

  The Jiren rummaged through a waist pouch. After a moment of fumbling, he pulled out a glass scroll. “I wagered it might be important.”

  The Unum motioned to Pyros to take the scroll.

  Pyros unrolled the scroll and scanned it with his tile. He gazed at its screen, frowning.

  “What is it?”

  “An expedition report.” Pyros traced his finger down the screen. “It refers to an ancient pyramid in the Great Saharan Desert.”

  A frozen fist squeezed the Unum’s heart. “Give it here!”

  Pyros’ frown deepened. He handed over his tile.

  A cursory view of its screen verified the worst. The Unum had last seen the report on the seed vault five years ago, and it had instilled the same sense of dread then as it did now. He thought he’d destroyed its only copy. Laoshi’s son and daughter-by-union must have rendered a duplicate, damn their eyes.

  Sha could damn his own eyes as well. He should have had Laoshi culled along with the expedition’s members—on principle if nothing else. But the report hadn’t provided a precise location for the vault. It enumerated nothing more than fractional evidence and tantalizing clues. The odds of anyone piecing them together had seemed so remote, so unlikely, they’d stayed his hand. That and the Primae Librarian’s popularity among the masses. The mercy he’d shown five years ago was a mistake, but not a fatal one. Laoshi still had no way of finding the—

  His tongue turned to ash. “What kind of aerostat did they steal?”

  “A geology aerostat,” Pyros said.

  An upswell of nausea buckled the Unum’s knees. Narses reached out to lend a steadying hand. “Is everything all right, Papa?”

  He batted the hand aside. Everything was far from all right. A geology aerostat was precisely what Laoshi would need to locate the seed vault. And what if he did? What if he returned to Daqin Guojin with an alternate food source and the true Unum Potentate?

  Pangs of terror displaced the nausea in his belly. The consequences were too horrific to consider. “We must destroy them!”

  “But Uncle,” Julinian said, “they won’t survive more than a month beyond the border. If they don’t starve, the mongrels will surely hunt them down.”

  The Unum grabbed Pyros’ tunic and yanked him closer. “We must destroy them!”

  “I could spare one aeroshrike and crew to pursue them,” Pyros said, his frown so ingrained it could have been carved in sculptglass. “But I don’t understand why you’d want to—”

  “No, Pyros! Narses will command this mission. You and Julinian will accompany him. Put two aeroshrikes into the air within the hour!”

  Disgruntled murmurs ebbed from the surrounding shadows. Enraged shouts smeared together, generating a raucous buzz. One shout filtered through untrammeled. “Jireni are forbidden to enter the Librarium! This is an outrage!”

  Grumbles of agreement coursed through the crowd. More strident Libraria picked up debris cast off by the Temple and lobbed it at the Jireni cordon. The mob crept forward. The Jireni trained their weapons, keeping them at bay.

  “You think it wise to send your Primae Jiren out of Daqin Guojin?” Pyros asked, motioning to the standoff.

  The Unum ignored him. “Take me back to the Assembly, Cang. I want every district commander to report to my chamber as soon as possible.”

  Pyros inched forward. “Why do you wish to see the district commanders?”

  “That’s my concern. Your concern is pursuing Daoren and the others.” He pocketed Pyros’ tile and held out his hand. “Give me the scroll.”

  Pyros handed over the scroll, eyes tainted with mistrust. “Why are you taking my quantum tile?”

  “That isn’t your concern, either! Go to the southern aerodrome and prepare the aeroshrikes and crews. Narses and Julinian will be there shortly.”

  “As you command,” Pyros said. He marched away from the sinkhole. Cang stroked her chin; suspicion shaded her eyes as well.

  “Ready the levideck, Commander Cang,” the Unum said. “We’ll join you in a moment.”

  Cang bowed and retreated. The Unum peered into the sinkhole, letting its vacant gloom focus his thoughts.

  He scolded himself for letting his emotions betray his fear. His reaction to the scroll’s contents gave Pyros and Cang reason to suspect something was amiss. From their perspective, pursuing Daoren and the others would appear unsound, but the four dissenters weren’t the only threats that needed to be addressed.

  If Laoshi had unearthed the seed vault’s location, he might have passed his findings on to other Libraria and denizens. Those potential leaks had to be plugged as well. Sending Pyros out of Daqin Guojin would make the task easier to conduct.

  The Unum’s gaze settled on the Temple’s crumpled yellow eave, deep in the abyss. The sinkhole reminded him of the mass graves his forebears had dug to bury the dead during the Cycle of Extinctions. It crystallized a sentiment that had been gelling in his mind for months.

  Sending Pyros to the Great After would make Narses’ transition to Unum easier. The Primae Jiren had become too sullen, too suspicious, and too questioning of late. He might even be the one responsible for warning Daoren and the others, facilitating their escape. The Unum had no evidence to support the supposition, but he had instinct—another vital qua
lity for survival. Five years ago, he’d ignored his instinct when it came to Laoshi al Euclidius. It left a loose end that was now threatening to choke his plans. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  “Why do you wish to meet the district commanders?” Julinian asked.

  He waved off the question. His niece and Narses didn’t need to know. “There’s one other person who mustn’t return from this mission.”

  “Who, Papa?”

  “Pyros.”

  Narses’ creased brow betrayed his confusion. “You want Pyros dead?”

  Julinian’s sparkling eyes conveyed understanding. “You no longer trust him, do you?”

  He didn’t respond, but his niece’s insight impressed him. If only Narses possessed the same quality. “Use Pyros as needed until you find Daoren and the others, then cull him along with the rest,” he said. “Do this and I’ll erect a sculptglass diorama in the heart of Zhongguo Cheng to honor your achievements. Prospects in the Spires will read of your exploits in the centuries to come.”

  “How are we supposed to find them?” Narses asked. “They’ll have had hours of a head start by the time we launch the aeroshrikes and we don’t know where they’re going.”

  The Unum held up the glass scroll. “I know where they’re going.”

  7

  Silent Alarm

  IN HIS CHAMBER at the Assembly, the Unum faced the district commanders for all fifty Chengs. They stood at attention in the morning light, five deep in ten ranks, like crystal columns come to life. Some exhibited fatigue from a long journey on short notice; others unease over the unknown. Each wore a black ceremonial bianfu offset with red-and-gold trim, as befitted the formal summons, and a hardened expression. Each would need a hardened heart to carry out their mission.

  “Jireni,” he said with suitable solemnity. “I’ve summoned you here because an hour of dire peril is upon us. Dissension is the greatest threat to Daqin Guojin and our way of life. As district commanders, you must snuff it out before it flames.”

  Several commanders in the rear ranks traded wary looks, but none spoke. Contrary to popular opinion, those Jireni who rose to the loftiest positions in their districts tended not to be the most brave or brash. They were quiet observers and careful calculators; thinkers rather than doers. Their cerebral dispositions posed no problem for his plan. They merely had to relay the orders to the doers within their commands and monitor the results.

  “We’ve uncovered a plot to destabilize our beloved city-state,” he continued. “Your Unum Potentate is leading a daring mission beyond our borders to deal with its ringleaders. Your Primae Jiren is supporting him. You will cull the rest of the dissenters within our borders.”

  “Who are we culling, Unum?” one of the commanders asked from the second rank.

  The Unum recognized Hyro alum Takeda as much by her blunt tone as by her diminutive stature. Unlike her introspective colleagues, Riben Cheng’s district commander possessed the kind of demeanor that made her hard to miss . . . and to tolerate. He rarely summoned her to Zhongguo Cheng. Fortunately, her competence made a summons unnecessary except under the most exceptional circumstances. Circumstances such as today’s. “You’re culling every Librarian affiliated with Laoshi al Euclidius, and every denizen who has studied under their tutelage.”

  “And who might they be?” Hyro asked.

  “Must I tell you how to fulfill your duties? Use whatever analytics you need to identify the targets, but don’t err on the side of caution if the evidence proves inconclusive. We must be as cruel as they are.”

  He let the instruction soak in before motioning to Cang, who loomed stone-faced at the end of the front rank. “Commander Cang will exercise tactical control of the operation. You’ll take your subsequent orders from her.”

  He flicked his hand, dismissing the commanders. They filed out in silence—even Hyro held her tongue. Cang was last to pass him. “Tarry a moment, commander.”

  Cang halted. As usual, she betrayed no outward signs of emotion. She didn’t even make eye contact, but managed not to appear evasive.

  He knew little of her political alignment. She’d been Zhongguo Cheng’s commander for three years and hadn’t earned the overt support or opposition of any influential factions of the ruling caste. Of all his back-channel inquiries to senior members of the Cognos Populi, none uncovered an instance where Cang had voiced an opinion unconnected to her vocation. She was the ultimate gray woman.

  “I’m relying on you to accomplish this mission,” he said. “It’s of the utmost importance to the city-state. Our survival depends on it.”

  “Yes, Unum.”

  “You have children?”

  “My husband wasn’t capable of reproduction.”

  “Due to his S.A.T. score?”

  “Due to his physiology,” Cang said without hesitation.

  Her frank response caught him off-guard. Sterility was rare in the city-state, and rarely discussed. “That must be difficult for him.”

  “He passed seven years ago,” she said, voice even.

  “My sorrow for your loss.” It was unfortunate; children and spouses were useful leverage. Still, every man and woman he’d encountered in Daqin Guojin had an appetite for power—and grooll. “I believe in rewarding those whose performance yields success. You wish to advance within the Jireni ranks?”

  “I wish to serve Daqin Guojin at whatever rank the ruling caste sees fit to bestow upon me.”

  He couldn’t suppress a smirk of admiration. It was a suitably cryptic answer from a suitably cryptic woman, and worthy of respect. “Succeed in this operation and I’m certain the ruling caste will bestow whatever rank you desire.”

  Cang bowed. “Then I shall make every effort to succeed.”

  She strode toward the door leading to the outer chamber.

  The Unum tracked her egress. Try as he might, he couldn’t gauge the commander’s intent. After thirty-one years of rule, he’d discovered someone as inscrutable as himself.

  TWENTY-ONE SULLEN commanders greeted Cang when she emerged from the chamber. She noted their grave faces. They clearly shared her revulsion to this heinous order—as would any reasonable person. It pleased her to see among them a clutch of commanders who’d been unwilling to take action against the Unum weeks earlier.

  “I wouldn’t have believed this if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears,” the commander from Yindu Cheng said.

  Cang eyed Pabbu al Mandes. His stout stature masked a personality that tended to waver in the prevailing wind. She’d met with him at his district headquarters shortly after her meeting with Hyro. It had taken six hours to gain Pabbu’s commitment to the notion of regime change, despite his self-evident loathing of the Unum’s rule. Indonoids tended to suffer disproportionate levels of detention in the Rig and, on a per-capita basis, received the smallest grooll rations of any lineage in the city-state.

  “Does he realize this order could mean the culling of tens of thousands of denizens?” Pabbu asked.

  “Of course he does,” Hyro said. “He’s counting on it.”

  “Has Pyros approved this action?” another commander asked. “I can’t in good conscience—”

  “Comrades,” Cang said, “let’s discuss this on the march.”

  She led them down a hallway. It was free of Cognos Populi and placed a more comfortable buffer between them and the Unum’s chamber. “We must give the appearance of carrying out his order,” she said, voice hushed. “Send your most trusted sub-commanders into your districts, but direct them to seek out the leading dissenters. We must engage the people and ask for their support in what’s to come.”

  “What’s to come?” a commander asked, one who’d voiced a litany of worries over replacing the Unum when Cang met with him a few weeks ago.

  “An end to this madness. By the time Pyros returns, we must have a force in place sufficient to defeat the Unum’s personal guard, his loyal commanders, and his allies in the Cognos Populi.”

  “Some of our
comrades will relish the Unum’s order,” the anxious commander said. “There will be culling.”

  “That can’t be helped,” Cang said, “but it could work to our advantage if it sparks wider insurrection in districts loyal to the Unum.”

  “You mean uprising,” Hyro said.

  Cang frowned. “What?”

  “We’re leading an uprising, not an insurrection.”

  Pabbu scoffed. “The name’s hardly worth quibbling over.”

  “I think it is,” Hyro said. “An insurrection seeks to overthrow rightful authority. Nothing about the Unum’s rule is right. The less we do to legitimize it, the better.”

  Cang took up Hyro’s point. “If the Unum’s order sparks mass culling, it will widen the uprising in his loyal districts. That will occupy the Jireni stationed there, depleting their resources and reducing the number who can oppose our force.”

  Six members of the Cognos Populi entered the hallway and paced closer. Cang nodded in greeting as they passed. She halted the commanders in an unoccupied alcove farther up the hallway. “Keep me apprised of any developments within your districts, in particular those related to allying dissenters to our cause. I’ll stay in contact with Pyros in the meantime. Agreed?”

  The commanders voiced their agreement en masse. Some conveyed more enthusiasm than others.

  “Survival through sapience,” she said. “And may Sha be with you.”

  The commanders wandered off. Hyro remained in place. Her unblinking gaze drilled into Cang. “So this is really happening?”

  “Yes.”

  “Despite Pyros’ absence?”

  “His absence changes nothing. It’s not like he could lead the insurrection—the uprising—if he were here. The light upon him is too bright.”

  Hyro’s eyebrows arched. “The light will fall upon you if you’re not careful.”

  “Then I’ll make sure to stay in the shadows.”

  “Would you like me to stay in Zhongguo Cheng?”

  “I’d prefer you return to Riben Cheng.”

  “Why?”

  “To make contact with the dissenters there.”