Children of the Divide

by Patrick S. Tomlinson

  “I will see what I can do.”

  “You do that,” Benexx said through a mouthful of dried berries. Already, ze could feel the stones in zer stomach grinding up the more fibrous parts of the jerky and mashing the seeds. Even the small measure of food in the bundle would go a long way to restoring zer strength. But the cold in the cavern meant digesting it would take time.

  Ze finished the last of the jerky and passed the spongy red fungus back and forth between zer hands, tasting the unfamiliar item before committing it to zer mouth. It tasted like dirt with strong hints of ammonia, so just like any farm-grown fungus that had been washed in haste. Ze didn’t recognize the species, but considering it had been cultivated, it probably wasn’t poisonous, and ze was desperate for every calorie ze could get. So Benexx held zer metaphorical nose and tore off a corner of the square. Its texture left something to be desired, but the taste was mild enough and it went down without a fuss. Ze quickly scarfed down the rest and turned zer attention to the jar of antiseptic salve.

  Several of the wounds on zer arms and legs were already itchy and warm to the touch, sure signs of a growing infection. It was entirely possible that zer immune system had never encountered some of the bugs hiding in the scum of this hole and would need all the help it could get. Careful to ration the bitter-tasting balm, Benexx prioritized those lacerations and scrapes that already exhibited signs of infection, and those that had cut deep.

  Fortunately, a little bit of the cream seemed to go a long way, so ze switched from triage to preventative medicine and rubbed a little bit onto every wound ze could reach. Which considering how flexible an Atlantian’s joints were, was almost all of them. When ze’d finished, there was even a small supply left to reapply to the more serious cuts later.

  Benexx’s cold mind drifted back to the question of where exactly ze was. Ze turned the jar over in zer fingers, inspecting it. Benexx checked the manufacture date: less than two years ago. It was a formulation specifically tailored for the Atlantian physiology and the sorts of native microbes that like to make a home in their bodies. Human doctors had settled on the mix less than a year after First Contact. Since then many tens of thousands of jars identical to this one had been widely distributed in both Shambhala and throughout the village network in Atlantis. Like the sack, it was far too ubiquitous an object to tell zer anything useful.

  Ze opened the bag’s flap and tucked the jar inside for safekeeping, then placed it behind one of the squat stalagmites protruding from the floor, safely out of sight. Then, ze moved to another stalagmite and retrieved a little crafts project that ze’d quietly worked on for the last couple of days – at least ze was pretty sure it had been a couple of days.

  Benexx moved to the edge of the dim circle of light in the floor cast from the exit above, and waited. For how long, ze couldn’t say with any precision, but long enough that ze had to shift several times to keep the muscles in zer legs from cramping. Omnidirectional joints had many advantages, but the ability to comfortably stand unwavering for prolonged periods of time was not among them.

  Eventually, Benexx heard footfalls coming from somewhere above and tensed.

  “I found a waterskin,” the voice called down to zer. “I’m lowering it down now.”

  Sure enough, a bladder filled nearly to bursting dangled in the opening above and slowly crept down as it was lowered hand over hand. “Honestly, I don’t know how you drink this flavorless water. It’s revolting.”

  So, a surface native, from near a coast, Benexx thought. Dwellers got the majority of their drinking water from underground freshwater springs, and villages further inland got theirs from rainwater that collected at the center of their craters. Ze filed this tidbit away.

  “It’s an acquired taste,” Benexx called back up as the skin reached zer level. Mercifully, ze untied the fastener to the spout and greedily swallowed. The liquid was cool, like the rest of the cavern, but far from the triple-filtered purity ze’d come to expect from the taps in Shambhala. Ze didn’t care. After two days without any more than what zer tongue could scrape off bare rock, ze would have drank dux’ah piss.

  “That’s enough for now,” zer cordial captor said. “You’ll make yourself sick if you drink too fast.”

  Benexx ignored zer warning and gripped the waterskin even more tightly, wrapping a hand around the rope and meeting resistance.

  “Come now, don’t be cold-headed,” the voice said. “This rope isn’t tied off to anything. You can’t possibly climb out with it.”

  “Wasn’t intending to climb out.” Benexx smiled, and with a quick, decisive jerk of the rope, ze yanked zer captor off balance and pulled zer screaming down to the floor to land in a crumpled heap.

  Benexx wasted no time. Ze grabbed zer still-moaning victim underneath the shoulders, then dragged zer back towards the far wall of zer little prison. The screams had drawn attention, there was no way to avoid it. Benexx hurriedly dropped zer captor in a writhing pile, then grabbed the end of the rope ze’d been holding and coiled it in until ze’d reached the end tied off to the waterskin. Ze made quick work of the knot, then threw the coil of rope into a far corner before doing the same with the waterskin. Rope was always good to have in any survival situation, and if zer captors were as lazy about searching the cavern now as they had been before they’d tossed zer down here, Benexx might just be able to keep it.

  Ze knew they’d been careless preparing the cavern, because not long after Benexx had been caught trying to escape, ze’d stumbled across the remains of… something in a far corner. Some unfortunate creature had fallen into the pit and breathed its last breath down here in the dank dark untold years ago. There was very little of the carcass left, having been reduced by bugs and bacteria to little more than a desiccated skeleton. It hadn’t been very large, but the long “bones” of the legs were more than adequate for zer needs.

  The skeletal systems of creatures native to Gaia weren’t like those of zer human parents or friends. Atlantians and all other land dwellers had arisen from an ambitious group of invertebrates, not bony fish, which had never taken off in Gaia’s oceans. As such, their bodies weren’t supported by rigid calcium and phosphorous rich bones, but flexible filaments more akin to cartilage. But even these filaments hardened as they dried after death. And although they couldn’t take an edge for shit, they could be stripped and honed like wood into a crude but effective point, good for a few decisive thrusts into soft tissues. Another trick Uncle Kexx had shown zer. So Benexx had spent the last two days doing exactly that. The “spear” was scarcely longer than a stylus, maybe two handspans from base to tip. But it was enough to reach through the dermis and sever one of the nerve trunks that ran from the base of the neck and down either side of an Atlantian’s body if you knew where to poke.

  Which Benexx did.

  The new resources acquired and hidden, Benexx ran back to the fallen captor and propped zer up, then slid in behind the wounded Atlantian to use zer as a body shield. At least one of zer captors had a rifle, and ze intended to present as small a target to them as possible. They’d be here soon, Benexx could hear their footfalls.

  “You… tricked me,” zer captor turned hostage said woozily.

  “Shut up,” ze said reflexively in English.

  “I’m hurt.”

  “You think I give a dux’ah shit?” Benexx pressed the shank to the sweet spot at the base of zer neck and pushed, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to drive the point home. “Not another word or you’ll be hopping on your right foot and bathing with one arm for the next six Varrs. Got it?”

  There was no response, which either meant ze’d understood perfectly, or had passed out. Whatever. A rope dropped down through the ceiling. Benexx tensed and moved zer head behind zer hostage’s. For a moment, ze felt a little surprised at zerself for not feeling any guilt over using an injured person as a bullet shield, but the feeling passed as soon as the harsh white light from the rifle-mounted torch fell onto the two of them.


  Benexx expected shouting, threats, maybe even the deafening crack of gunshots. But there was nothing. Just the sound of feet gently moving over bare rock. A second light source appeared. They were trying to flank zer.

  The muscles in zer arms tensed as panic and bile rose in zer throat. “Not another step or your friend gets paralyzed!”

  The footsteps stopped. Still silence. Benexx risked peeking one eye out from cover, but all ze could see was the painfully bright lights burning a spot into zer night vision. Benexx ducked zer head back.

  “Well?” ze shouted.

  “Well, what?” The familiar voice sent a surge of dread like an electric jolt through zer. It was the same guard from the first day. The one who caught zer at the very lip of the exit as ze tried in vain to escape and cast zer back down into the pit. “What is your plan, little bearer?”

  Benexx had to admit, ze really didn’t have one. Ze’d hoped to pull down zer guard quietly, or at least that everyone else would be too far away to hear, or too far away to reach before ze could escape. Neither had panned out, and now Benexx was completely winging it.

  “I’m going to walk out of here, or your friend dies.”

  “So, you’re going to climb up one of our ropes while holding a dagger to Shu’luk’s neck. Is that your plan? Because it’s not great.” The voice radiated calm, confidence, even amusement. Benexx wanted to drive a shank through zer smug mouth and out the back of zer head.

  “I’m making it up as I go,” ze said instead.

  “I can see that,” the voice said mockingly.

  Benexx heard a foot shuffle against the rough stone of the floor. Ze wasn’t sure who was moving. Ze didn’t care.

  “I said, not another step!” Ze pressed the shank into zer hostage’s neck, hard. Enough to draw blood and a yelp, but the shuffling continued.

  “I’m not joking with you.”

  “That’s for sure. There’s nothing funny about how you’re wasting our time,” said the voice. “You’re surrounded. You’re under-armed. There’s no way you can hope to get past us and climb out of the only exit. And your hostage was willing to blow zerself up for the cause in the parade, so returning zer now would be no less noble. You have no escape, no plan, and no leverage. I’m going to count to a fullhand. If you haven’t released Shu’Luk by the time I finish, I’m going to shoot zer in the head and leave you down here alone with zer body.”

  “Good,” Benexx spat. “I could really use the meat.”

  “One…”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Two.”

  Benexx couldn’t believe this was happening. Ze’d hoped to extract some small concession out of them, some snippet of information in exchange for zer hostage’s safe release. Ze expected to be punished afterwards, beaten, denied food and water, whatever. But ze couldn’t believe ze was going to get nothing for zer trouble.

  “Three.”

  “You wouldn’t return one of your own.”

  “You city types are soft. Five.”

  “You skipped ‘Four’!”

  “You wasted four. Six.”

  Benexx couldn’t see Shu’Luk’s face, but ze could see zer skinglow and taste zer sweat. Ze was injured, possibly badly. Ze had a shiv digging into zer skin less than a finger away from paralyzing zer left side, and ze was being threatened with death in less than two seconds from one of zer own people. Ze should be on the verge of panic and incoherence. But the light and patterns of zer skin exuded calm, and zer sweat was clean, free of the taste of stress pheromones that were impossible to suppress.

  Zer hostage either didn’t believe that ze would get shot or stabbed, or ze honestly didn’t care if ze lived or died.

  “Seven!”

  “All right!” Benexx shoved Shu’Luk’s nearly limp body away, dropped the shiv, and put up zer arms, slow stripes of light and black radiating outward from zer core to zer fingertips in the Atlantian signal of submission.

  “Thank you for cooperating,” the voice said cheerfully, then signaled for their compatriot to move up to retrieve Shu’Luk without taking the muzzle of their rifle away from Benexx’s head. Ze could only see their body as a faintly glowing outline against the nearly pitch black shadows of the far wall. But ze recognized the stance. It was practiced and solid, subtly adapted for Atlantian physiology, but held tightly against the shoulder and braced with the other arm. It was the stance of someone who had been well-trained.

  So, maybe Benexx had gotten something in exchange after all. But then, as the other captor leaned down to grab Shu’Luk’s wrist, Benexx caught a glimpse of the face hiding behind the blinding spotlight.

  “Jolk!” Benexx forgot about the guns trained on zer face and exploded at zer former street-harasser’s face, shank raised high in an icepick grip, ready to plunge it into Jolk’s right eye. Benexx’s sudden charge caught Jolk completely off-guard. Confronted by the unexpected threat, Jolk froze like the Italian ice they served in the streets of Shambhala in the summer.

  For a flash, Benexx thought zer blow would land. It might be the last thing ze did, but at least ze would get a chance to gouge out one of Jolk’s eyes. They never grew back quite right. But as zer arm swung down in a perfect arch, building deadly momentum with each handspan, the other gunman stepped up with even greater speed. In a swirl of movement, the butt of zer rifle connected with Benexx’s lower jaw, snapping it shut painfully and sending zer head rolling back at an odd angle. The sudden jolt to zer head disrupted Benexx’s sense of balance and caused zer brain to glitch momentarily. Without coordination from zer central brain, the peripheral nodes of Benexx’s nervous system fell back under local control. In the fraction of a second zer brain was resetting itself, zer legs individually tried, and failed, to maintain the motion they’d already been committed to.

  Benexx returned fully to zer senses in less than a second, but by then, ze was already lying face down on the cool, smoothed stone of the floor.

  “Not bad for a bearer. You didn’t tell me ze had so much fire in zer blood, Jolk,” the apparent leader said.

  “I…”

  Clutching zer bleeding chin with zer free hand, Benexx came up to one knee. “Made you flinch, Jolk.” Ze smiled and held out zer shank as threateningly as ze could in the direction of the leader’s spotlight. “And ze saw you do it. Some warrior you’ve got here, afraid of a bearer with a dry old bone while ze’s holding a rifle. You should have zer emptying latrines. That’s all ze’s good for.”

  Ze looked away. “Jolk, take Shu’Luk up the ropes. Once you’re at the top, cover my climb in case your friend here gets any ideas about stabbing me in the back.”

  “But–”

  “Now, Jolk. I’ll deal with you later.”

  Jolk obeyed, dragging Shu’Luk’s still-limp body back to the ropes, then pulled zer up onto zer shoulders, slung zer rifle, and started to climb hand over hand out of the cavern, making sounds of great exertion the entire way.

  Now alone with their leader, Benexx turned back and noticed they had taken a long step back, giving zer some breathing room in case Benexx decided to charge a second time.

  “I already know their names,” Benexx said. “I’ll figure yours out soon enough. You may as well tell me who you are and what your plan for kidnapping me is.”

  “You do remember there’s a rifle pointed at your head and you’ve already given up your only leverage, yes?”

  “Hard to forget.”

  “And you’re still making demands of me?”

  “I was a precocious child.”

  Zer captor actually laughed at that. “And every bit zer parents’ brood, another little truth-digger for the family line. No, young bearer, I’m not going to just give you what you seek.”

  “Stop calling me ‘bearer!’ My name is Benexx. But you already knew that.”

  “It’s meant as a title and a sign of respect to your station, young one. Although I wouldn’t expect you to understand that, raised as you were.”

  “I know what sort
of station bearers are held in back in Atlantis. I’ll make my own, thanks.”

  “As you wish, but I’m still not telling you anything. You’ll have to tease it out of the rocks.” Ze shined the light down to the ground where Benexx’s shank lay. “You know I can’t let you keep that.”

  Benexx shrugged.

  “Still defiant, hmm? We’ll see how long that lasts after another few days without food or water.” The leader reached out a foot and effortlessly grabbed the shank between zer dexterous toes, then transferred it to a pocket in zer skirts before heading to the ropes. “Do you have our guest in your sights, Jolk?”

  The other spotlight traced along the floor until it bathed Benexx’s body. “I do,” Jolk called down from the circle in the ceiling.

  The leader grabbed a rope. “I’d stay put if I were you, young one. After what you pulled, I wouldn’t be in any sort of hurry to give our friend Jolk an excuse to pull that trigger.”

  Ze slung the rifle over a shoulder, then ascended the ropes with very little effort. Strong, then, even more confirmation that ze was no ordinary Atlantian.

  Benexx watched zer disappear over the lip, watched the ropes retract out of reach, and listened as zer enemies withdrew to tend to their wounded member. Ze took stock of what ze’d learned from the encounter, and started laying the groundwork for zer next move.

  Seventeen

  The command module entered its seventh hour of lockdown, and not even the high-efficiency particulate filters inside the conference room Jian, his father, and half the department heads were sequestered in could keep up with the creeping funk of sweat and anxiety. Everyone had left their seats long ago to float around the compartment and establish their own little temporary territories while the search for Jian’s missing pet continued. Nerves were beginning to fray.

  “For God’s sake, Kania,” Chao Feng said. “Stop drinking juice.”

  “I’m starving, I need calories and there’s nothing to eat.”

  “There’s also nowhere to piss. We’re in zero gee. Where are you going to go, in the corner?”