Children of the Divide

by Patrick S. Tomlinson

  And why the hell shouldn’t they? If it really was left here by their mortal enemy, the very best thing its secrets could be used for would be the defense of all of Gaia’s people. America reached the Moon using captured enemy technology and knowledge. Why should this be any different?

  But, as his father had said in no uncertain terms, the decision had been made, and it was final. The wheels were already set in motion and there wasn’t anything a lowly shuttle jockey could do, no matter how ambitious his father’s future designs for him might be.

  Jian slapped himself for his selfishness. Here he was, laying in his comfortable apartment after a delicious meal, ridding a good drunk, pondering his potential future as a starship captain, while one of his oldest friends had been half blown-up, kidnapped, and squirreled away into whatever godsforsaken spider hole zer captors had stuffed zer into. Benexx was all alone, in mortal danger, surrounded by enemies, and here Jian was hungover on his fucking couch.

  Jian sat bolt upright and pounded all of the water his father had set out, then slammed the glass back onto the table hard enough that had it been real glass instead of plastic, it would’ve shattered. He’d lost most of his friends in the last few days, and he would be thrice-damned by Xis, Cuut, and Varr themselves if he let another one slip away. He had a purpose now, a goal. But how could he help Benexx from tens of thousands of kilometers away? The elevator cars were shut down until the ribbon was fixed and they weren’t about to take a shuttle out of the rotation just to send one person down to the surface.

  And he’d already committed to the Varr mission anyway, which would only take him further away from Gaia as he flew the nuke out to destroy the facility.

  The facility, he realized. The giant alien duck blind, pointed straight down at Gaia.

  “Jian, you idiot,” he mumbled. The plan sprang into his mind fully-formed. He knew exactly what he had to do, and exactly how he was going to do it. If he failed, he’d probably be killed. And even if he succeeded, he’d be kissing his career goodbye, his relationship with his father, and quite possibly his freedom for the next twenty or thirty years.

  It wasn’t even a contest. Chao wasn’t the only one in the family that made snap decisions.

  A gentle tapping on his wrist reminded Jian that he wasn’t alone. He looked down at Polly and smiled.

  “Hey kiddo, can you make yourself into a tablet?”

  Eighteen

  Sticking closely behind their impromptu guide, Benson thought he’d seen the rough parts of the Native Quarter. He was wrong.

  “It no far.” Sco’Val ducked zer head under a laundry line as they cruised down the alley at a brisk pace. “Another fullhand bluks,” ze said in the common Atlantian mispronunciation of “blocks.” Apparently, “bluks” were a type of semi-precious gemstone used in ceremonial beadwork back in Atlantis, and most of the adults who came over as refugees couldn’t really pick up the subtle difference in pronunciation anyway.

  “Benson,” Kexx whispered from behind him, “this place feels like walking through halo trees.”

  His truth-digger friend referred to the rings of thick, bramble-like trees that surrounded the villages of the road network across the ocean. Vines packed with explosive seed pods waiting to prey on the clumsy or unwary. Looking around, Benson could appreciate the parallels.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “I don’t understand this forest, Benson.”

  “It’s just like G’tel’s halo trees, except instead of seedpods that throw baseballs, they’re people with rocks and knives.”

  “That, I can understand.”

  “Just don’t forget that the rocks here can come from five stories up. Watch your head.”

  Behind his friend, Sakiko and her brooding pet ulik stalked along the street. Benson wasn’t sure which of them looked more menacing.

  he sent to Korolev through their private link.

 

 

  Korolev waved an exasperated arm around at their surroundings.

  Benson’s favorite cornerback had a point. The buildings in this part of the quarter hadn’t exactly been built to code. The adobe structures had benefitted from human construction techniques, internally reinforced with a lattice of woven branches in place of rebar. It had allowed their mudstone formers to grow them well beyond their traditional three-story height, some of the more ambitious engineers pushing them to six and even seven stories. Atlantian stories, which were each at least half a meter taller than comparable human structures to account for the average Atlantian’s taller frame.

  But they’d been built slapdash, unplanned. Extra floors were added after the fact to give extra space to growing families living in the same home. They looked like stacked sandcastles, and were only marginally more structurally sound. There had been several collapses already. External bracing had been hastily manufactured and slapped in place by human engineers to stabilize the tallest of the structures, but it still felt like a stroll through a forest in a heavy windstorm while you waited for something to come crashing down on your head.

  Benson had grown up around much taller buildings. Hell, the tallest buildings in Avalon module reached six hundred meters, more than halfway to the central axle a kilometer above ground level. No, what was foreign here was the claustrophobia. Buildings in the Ark’s habitat modules were surprisingly well-spaced, considering how many people had packed inside them.

  Here in the Quarter, however, the dwellings had not only grown up, but out, until the narrowest alleyways could scarcely accommodate two people abreast. This densest part of the Quarter was a veritable maze of corridors, dead ends, overhangs, and even tunnels carved through the foundations of the buildings themselves. Blind alleys, sunken doorways, and balconies were all potential ambush points for the unwary.

  Benson marveled at the complexity of it all even as his paranoia ratcheted up another notch. He could scarcely believe all this had been built in just the last fifteen years, yet there he was, walking smack through the nexus of it all towards God-only-knew what.

 

  Theresa said.

  Korolev said.

  Benson said.

  Theresa sighed audibly.

 

 

  Benson said with a smirk. His wife might act annoyed by their bravado, but there was a reason she’d married a sports legend. Theresa liked her men strong and a touch arrogant. Anyone would need to be to keep up with her, even at fifty. Ahead of them, the alley arrived at a dead end. But instead of stopping or turning around, Sco’Val deftly grabbed a pallet with the adhesive suckers on zer toes, set it aside, and fell through a hole in the street.

  “What the fuck?” Benson said aloud before he could catch himself.

  Theresa looked at Korolev. “Did you know they had tunnels?”

  Korolev shook his head vigorously. “News to me, boss.”

  “Get your light in
there, Pavel, but take it off your rifle. We don’t need to shove a muzzle in anyone’s face.”

  “Not yet, at least,” Korolev muttered.

  Benson fell back to have a quiet word with Kexx. “What do you make of this? A Temple of Xis?”

  Kexx shook zer head. “I do not believe so. There has to be a divine archway marking the passage between Xis’s womb and the world above. Just a hole in the ground would be very disrespectful. Blasphemous, even.”

  “Shit, I’d hoped we were walking into a holy place with its lay-off-with-the-fighting policy.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, my friend.”

  Benson glanced over at Sakiko, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since they’d exited the tram, but remained as stalwart-looking as ever. “I think your apprentice should stay up here and serve as lookout.”

  “The hell I will,” she said flatly.

  Kexx cleared zer throat. “That is not language to speak towards an elder.”

  “Humans don’t have elders. He’s just old.”

  Benson stuffed a finger in her face. “That’s right, I’m old, kiddo. And I’m the kind of crafty that only comes with getting old. You’re not there yet. And if something goes wrong in that hole, I don’t want to have to tell your mother that I couldn’t protect you. It would break her heart, and I can’t stand the thought of seeing her in that kind of pain. So you and your weird dog go stand at the junction over there, scream your lungs out if a mob suddenly appears to ram itself up our backsides, then run like a scalded dux’ah in the other direction. Understood?”

  Sakiko spat at the dirt by her feet. “If a wave of native quarter rats come down that hole, a few seconds of warning isn’t going to do you jackshit. You’ll need knives with experience fighting in close quarters. When was the last time you fought Atlantians underground? Because I fought a fullhand of raiders in an abandoned Dweller tunnel last month.”

  Kexx put a firm hand on her shoulder, but Sakiko shrugged it off.

  “I apologize for my student,” Kexx said sternly.

  Benson waved zer off. “It’s fine, Kexx. She’s worried about Benexx. You think ze’s down there, don’t you Sakiko?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re not going to listen to reason, no matter if it comes from your Uncle Bryan or your elder Kexx, are you?”

  “No chance.”

  “Well then, come along, little one.” Benson extended a hand toward the hole with Theresa and Korolev probing the darkness below with a flashlight. Sakiko walked up to join them. “And bring your hound. We might want its nose.”

  “You should not encourage zer rebelliousness, Bryan,” Kexx said in a low voice to avoid being overheard.

  Benson snorted. “She’s almost eighteen, Kexx. Human kids don’t need any encouragement to rebel at her age.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Kexx sounded tired, exasperated even. “It’s truly amazing how Xis granted zer all the knowledge it took me a lifetime to acquire with none of the experience. An incredible creature, the human teenager.”

  “Yeah, well Benexx hasn’t been a peach lately either. Theresa wanted me to talk to you about it, actually. But it can wait. What do you think we’re walking into here? Should we be worried?”

  “There is always danger underground.”

  “Well that’s reassuring. Did Sakiko really fight off eight raiders in a Dweller tunnel?”

  “Ze neglected to mention ze had some help, but yes. That thrice-damned ulik of zers didn’t hurt matters either.”

  “I expect not. C’mon, let’s see where this goes.”

  The drop to the floor of the tunnel was almost four meters. There was no ladder; Atlantians were such naturally adept climbers they needed none. The quartet of humans trying to reach the bottom were less well equipped. Of them, Sakiko had the most climbing and spelunking experience, not to mention the youngest and most lithe body. She reached the floor in scarcely more time than their guide had taken. Her pet followed quickly after, splaying out its four limbs in a way that would have dislocated the joints of any Earth quadruped.

  “Your turn, Pavel,” Benson said. “Show that little spider monkey how it’s done.”

  “Oh no, coach.” Korolev patted his rifle. “I have to cover your ingress.”

  “Fine, whatever.” Benson turned to his wife. “Ladies first.”

  Theresa batted her eyelashes. “You mean you won’t be down there to catch me if I fall?”

  “Ugh, fine.” Benson leaned across the mouth of the tunnel and let his feet dangle over the edge before turning around and supporting his weight on his hands. Which was a mistake. Even in a brace, his sprained wrist stabbed at him painfully.

  “What do you see down there, Sakiko?”

  “Nothing, uncle.”

  “You mean there’s nothing to see, or you can’t see anything?”

  Sakiko snorted. “Relax, old man. I can see fine. There’s nothing dangerous down here, other than me and Gamera.”

  “OK, fine. But if I get a spear up my ass as I’m climbing down, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  “You safe, truth-digger,” Sco’Val shouted back. “Under protection.”

  “Didn’t realize I needed protection in my own city,” Benson muttered to himself as his left foot found purchase, but he realized the elder had called him “truth-digger,” not “ruleman.” That was something. The hole was narrow enough that his arms and legs could touch each wall face with relative ease, so Benson sort of chimney climbed down, muscles burning and joints popping the entire way, especially his wrist which was still tender from the bad landing he’d taken after the bombing.

  The air at the bottom of the hole was stale, loamy. It had the slightly salty bite of a freshly tilled yulka field. So, no ventilation down here, Benson thought. Atlantians could tolerate significantly lower levels of oxygen than humans could, owing to both their cooler metabolism and to their semi-permeable skin acting like one big passive lung. Human kids learned quickly not to bother getting into breath-holding contests with their Atlantian peers. As long as they were down here, Benson would have to keep an eye out for signs of hypoxia, because if any nasty gasses were leaking in from the soil, or a colony of oxygen-scavenging bacteria had been busy, the humans would be the canaries in this particular coal mine.

  However, other than the stale air, the tunnel was indeed clear of obvious threats, which Benson could only confirm thanks to the blue-green light radiating from Sco’Val’s skin, far more than the Atlantian needed in order to see down here with zer excellent low-light vision. Ze’d cranked up zer bioluminescence as high as it would go so Benson could scan the scene for himself. He recognized it for the courtesy it was and nodded his thanks to the elder.

  “C’mon down, love. We’re secure.”

  Theresa made her way down with only a couple of slips. Before long, Korolev and Kexx joined them.

  “OK, Sco’Val…” Benson motioned down the tunnel, “…lead the way.”

  Ze turned and walked briskly, skin still shining bright. Atlantians couldn’t beat humans in a flat sprint because of their omnidirectional joints, but the gait granted them by their long limbs made up for it by walking at a pace that forced most people to break into a slow jog to keep up. It quickly became clear that this wasn’t just a lone tunnel leading to a hidden chamber, but an entrance to a network, growing bigger with each branching intersection they turned down and level they climbed into. Benson tried to keep track in his head in case they had to make a quick retreat – left, left, right, down a level, right, left – but it wasn’t long before he lost the thread entirely. He was about to say something to Kexx when he noticed Sakiko making small marks in the packed clay and dirt in between the wooden supports in the walls with each turn.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “Dropping yulka.”

  “Is that like ‘leaving breadcrumbs’?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Roger who?”


  “Nevermind.”

  Sakiko scoffed. “Ugh. You’re so ooold.”

  “I know. I should really get it looked at.”

  She shook her head and moved on. Benson smiled. Apart from the angle of her eyelids, Sakiko was the spitting image of her mother. Mei had been a couple years younger than Sakiko was now when Benson first met her in the derelict basement levels of Shangri-La module, and already several months pregnant with her future daughter.

  Mei had been demure back then, out of necessity. Being an underage prostitute for an underground Messiah cult didn’t encourage asserting much individualism. But she was the first to see through David Kimura’s mask, and she was the first to turn on him and sound the alarm, saving what sliver of humanity remained in the process, twice. Once Kimura’s influence had been… forcibly removed, Mei came out of her shell and never looked back. The same defiance shone like a beacon in Sakiko.

  “What are you staring at?” Sakiko said nervously. Gamera chirped, echoing zer master’s sudden change in mood.

  Benson smiled warmly, as if looking at his own child. “An old friend’s good work. What do you say, kid? Shall we kick over some rocks and see what tries to run away?”

  “Works for me.”

  The walls of the tunnel changed sharply. Instead of packed clay and wooden staves, the surface transitioned into mudstone, the native analogue to concrete. The surfaces were smooth and level, expertly formed by craftsmen who knew their jobs well. After a few paces, ornate organic patterns emerged, sculpted into the mudstone before it set completely.

  “Just like our tour of the Dweller caves before Black Bridge, hmm?” Kexx said from behind his shoulder.

  “Don’t jinx it. As I remember, we did a lot of fighting and running and almost dying the rest of that afternoon.”