So did Vash.
The Apostle parted lines of infantry, gazing perfunctorily around at fires dotting the water-logged buildings of Seertown. He’d gotten the name “Apostle” in the last set of seer purges. It struck Balidor that even if he had been an extremely young man at the time, that put Cardesian northward of seventy human years.
He looked a great deal less. His iron-gray hair managed to remain absolutely in place to spite the wind and rain; his close-set eyes sparked with intelligence, and not a small amount of arrogance.
Ignoring Vash, the Apostle strode directly to Balidor.
He laid long fingers on his shoulder and squeezed in a friendly manner.
“It is good to see you, Mr. Balidor,” he said. “I do wish that the circumstances were less...formal.”
Balidor sighed internally at the implication that he should feel honored to be so singled out. Human politics were so heavy-handed as to be entirely obnoxious...at least when he couldn’t afford to find them amusing.
“Formal?” he said. “I think we can preclude with pleasantries, Cardesian. Your presence alone violates at least three post-war treaties. As for the bombing—”
“We didn’t do that.”
Balidor raised an eyebrow. “Really? So those weren’t American planes I saw dropping bombs just now...killing old men and children?”
The Apostle frowned, removing his hand.
“I see that your species’ penchant for dramatic overstatement hasn’t lessoned.” He looked around, as if assessing the location anew. “We have a few choppers nearby. We came to offer assistance...”
“Assistance?” Balidor looked at Vash.
The ancient seer stood unconcerned, despite his bound wrists.
Near him stood three seers Balidor recognized. There weren’t many at their level he didn’t know, no matter who they worked for. One, Eldrake, he remembered in particular. He’d worked under Galaith since the time of the Nazis. Balidor ran into him a few times in Eastern Europe, including at the death camps.
“Yes,” Balidor said. His eyes swiveled back to Cardesian. “Your intentions seem perfectly friendly. That’s why you have bound and collared the most respected holy man in our city.” He gestured pointedly at the lines of troops. “And pardon my asking...but if they were not your American planes, whose American planes were they, General?”
“We’re working on that.”
“What does that mean, precisely?”
Cardesian adjusted his belt, in a way that might have amused Balidor under different circumstances. It was obviously some sort of male dominance display.
The human’s voice grew into a warning.
“We got here by tracking the groundies you’re fighting. They aren’t flying the Chink flag, but crossed our lines close enough to be a threat. Our ice-bloods tell us most of them are seers...”
He motioned towards the uniformed seers. His frown deepened.
“...No one’s claiming responsibility, at least not yet. But we can’t just wait for them to head back north, to Bei-fucking-jing...”
“General,” Balidor said, clicking. “I have no idea what that means...”
But Cardesian held up a hand to silence him. Frowning, he seemed to be listening to something through his headset.
When he looked at Balidor next, his voice hardened.
“Intelligence is telling me now that this ‘unprovoked attack’ was an attempt to gain custody over a highly dangerous and illegal seer,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that, would you, Mr. Balidor?”
Balidor started to open his mouth, but Cardesian cut him off.
“After that mess last year, I would have thought you’d help us contain the situation, Balidor. Not hide her up here like some kind of prize whore...”
“General.” Balidor sighed. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re—”
“Just how stupid do you think we are?”
Balidor paused, uncertain at first if the human wanted an answer. He glanced at the seers protecting his light.
“Compared to what, General?”
“Do you think we haven’t known...for months now...that the little girlie you have running things up here is a goddamned firestarter?” He spat on the ground, his hands on his hips. “I’m real sorry you were attacked, Balidor...I am. But I can’t say I’m surprised. It was only a matter of time, with the roulette you’ve been playing…”
Balidor spread his hands. “General, I have no idea to whom this grand conspiracy of yours refers, and—”
“You know damned well who I mean! The girl, Balidor! The one who blew up a goddamned ship in our waters, killing god knows how many civilians. The one who likes playing patty cake with our men in Russia...who has one of your rebel types for a boyfriend...”
He stepped closer, close enough that Balidor felt himself tense.
“Are you going to deny that the little bitch is alive?”
“We did not try to hide this from you, General.”
“Bullshit! You changed her name!”
“A common practice among my people. She was raised among humans. We sought only to reunite her with her heritage. To bring her into her proper clan—”
“Okay, okay.” The general held up a hand. He smiled at Balidor indulgently. “You can play your polite little bullshit seer games. But know this...we let you keep her, Balidor. We tried to keep the peace, give you a chance to come clean. But it’s out of my hands now. If you can’t protect her, then we’ll have to do it for you...unless you’d prefer SCARB to step in...”
Balidor glanced at the seers standing guard around Vash.
Eldrake had a faint smile playing at his lips.
“I see,” Balidor said. “So. What is it you want me to do, General?”
A distant rumbling sound caused Balidor to turn.
Another line of fire broke the night sky, tongues of red and yellow reaching heavy clouds. Balidor stepped up on a stone bench to see better over the trees. A second hangar must have ignited. He touched his link out of habit, was about to speak when he remembered the Americans would have hacked into his local security network by now.
Hesitating when he felt the seer on the other end, Balidor said only,
“Did you see that, Yerin?”
“Yes.” Yerin did not elaborate.
When Balidor glanced back, Cardesian returned his gaze narrowly, likely nonverbal on a secure link that was actually secure.
“Say hello to Chan,” Balidor said, stepping off the bench. “Send someone to watch over my kids...” Without waiting, he terminated the link.
Cardesian said, “I think we can dispense with the pretense that the girl is harmless, Balidor.” A smile touched his words. “An agent of SCARB will be here shortly...to assess the cause of these sudden disturbances in your supposedly neutral zone...”
“Very diplomatic, General.” Balidor kept his voice even with an effort. “You know, I am beginning to think the other humans are right...that we should not base our views of humanity on the American model. That you would use a disturbance you yourselves created as excuse to rip our settlement apart...”
Cardesian stepped closer, his eyes hard as stones.
“Can we just finish with the requisite Sark indignation? I know it’s expected, but perhaps we can speed things up a little. Yes, we Americans are imperialist scum. Humans are worms. We live only to torture, kill and destroy all life on earth. If we would just all sing kumbaya and evolve, we’d be drowning in beer and candy and hot seer pussy. May we all rot in the halls of your Ancestors...”
He waved a dismissive hand, then put it back on his hip.
“...That part of the program finished, I wish to know if your people will assist mine in looking for the girl...and securing the bitch without a goddamned catastrophe of some kind. In exchange, I might be able to call off the dogs at SCARB, at least in the short term.”
Balidor gestured in the negative. “If you bring SCARB in to start looking for illegals to collar
, you will start a war...a real one. Maybe tell your new president that. Tell him that a lot more of our people will die. Maybe more than we can recover from...”
Cardesian smiled. “What makes you think he cares, son?”
“It’ll be a little hard to control seer trade if you kill off all the seers,” Balidor said bitingly. “...a little hard to corner the market in seer tech, too. Or come out the winner in your battles with the Chinese. Somehow I think they’ve been a little more careful about not killing off all of their seers...”
At the Apostle’s narrow look, Balidor clicked at him.
“Don’t tell me Wellington doesn’t care. I know he does. In your own, limited, worm-like, planet-killing way...so do you.”
Smoke billowed from behind the hill in the direction of the 8th.
Another dozen or so American troops had joined the first group as he and Cardesian conversed, but Balidor knew this to be only a show of strength.
The real forces were already deployed, looking for Alyson.
“You realize Seertown just got in the way of the front lines, don’t you, son?” Cardesian said.
“I do,” Balidor said. “Please do not make it worse by declaring martial law. You must know by now that they will assume my cooperation. Whether I am named coward or traitor is immaterial for either of our purposes. They will look for a leader who does not cooperate with those who collar them and shoot their mates...and when that happens, things will get bloody fast. You have no idea what kind of grudge my people can hold when their families are involved...”
At the other’s bored look, Balidor’s voice grew to an open warning.
“Cardesian...this is no longer the old generation of peaceful seers you handily conquered before. You successfully changed our culture in that respect, at least. You’ve never really faced my people as a mobilized, military force...”
Cardesian shrugged. “You should have better control over your people.”
When Balidor turned away, Cardesian caught his arm.
“Balidor, I am trying to help you!”
He extricated his elbow. “Help us? How?” Seeing the anger in the human’s face, he quoted, “Can you make us care for that which is transient? Or only fear what might occur if we do not obey? You speak only for the blind, pointing and crying out...”
“Do not quote your scripture at me as if I were a child!” Cardesian’s eyes held a dangerous light. “I know the same passages you do...likely better! Do you really wish to see your precious Bridge’s body displayed on the Castle walls, covered in blood and runes from your damned holy books? Give me another reason, Balidor...I dare you!”
Balidor was genuinely surprised.
“General,” he said. “I merely meant that my people won’t hear yours on this. Honestly...I doubt they’d hear me. They definitely won’t if they see me helping humans to collar the Bridge. She is a symbol here, as well.”
“Symbol.” The human’s mouth tightened. “You think I’d betray my people for your damned symbol...you don’t know jack about humans, son.”
Once again, Balidor noted, Cardesian seemed oblivious to the fact that Balidor had a good 300 years on him.
The human shook his head.
“I’ve made my offer,” he said. “I can call SCARB off...with a single transmission. Bring her to me, and I’ll help you hunt down the scum who did this to your city. I promise you that...”
Balidor gave him a puzzled smile. “You speak to me as though I had such a thing in my power,” he said. “I assure you...I do not.”
“Then get your holy man to do it...” Cardesian gestured towards Vash. “If he’s the big boss around here, have him tell the others—”
“He’s not.”
Cardesian took a step closer on the wet grass. For the barest instant, real anger flashed in his dark eyes. Then Balidor saw them change.
A silvery sheen fogged the dark irises.
The barest pause lived between one state of consciousness and the next. Then a different cadence came from those human lips.
“Balidor, I would like to know what’s happened here.”
Hearing the human’s voice shift, Balidor studied Cardesian’s light, his own cautious. It took him only seconds to ascertain that Cardesian himself was gone; his light had been hijacked by a seer’s.
It occurred to Balidor that he knew with whom he was now speaking.
“I have told you already,” he said. “I do not know.”
“Where are the books?”
“What?” Balidor said, genuinely confused. “What books?”
“Who attacked you? Who are the Chinese aiding?”
“We don’t know that either,” Balidor said. “...We thought it was you.”
“Convenient.” The Apostle took another step towards him. The silvery glow remained in his eyes. “Someone killed my man in the forest. Was that one of your ‘mystery attackers,’ as well?”
Balidor shrugged with one hand, his voice flat. “My infiltrators tell me you killed my man first...and that another of ours has disappeared. So tell me, General...why should I care what happens to yours?”
Cardesian’s eyes grew more birdlike.
“You honestly think I would do this? Kill hundreds of our people? I kept the front away from Seertown...”
“Then why are you here now?” Balidor said.
“I came for the books. I want what is mine. I want what she stole from me.”
Balidor continued to measure the light of the other man, without getting too close. He knew Terian’s light well enough to recognize it, given all the work they’d done tracking him. He didn’t believe he was looking at a Terian body, per se; any human body and mind could be “borrowed” by a seer of sufficient structure.
The conversation hadn’t so far illuminated much.
Balidor watched the silvery eyes appraise him, as if the being behind them was doing its own mental inventory.
Balidor saw two Sarks approach, dressed in Air Force uniforms.
“Let’s see how our esteemed leader of the Adhipan likes his own collar,” Terian said through the human’s lips.
Abruptly, Cardesian’s eyes snapped back to focus.
The silver leached out of his irises, just before his voice changed, once more carrying a human accent from the United States. The general gestured towards the uniformed seers, his expression hard.
“...I’m tired of screwing around with this ice-blood. Hook him to wires, if you have to...but give me everything he has on that girlie of theirs. I want to know where she slept, who she fucked, who she was friends with, how she spent her time...any hidey holes she might have. Find out where she might have kept any materials she stole in her intelligence raids...” He gave Balidor a hard look.
“...And find those human traitor friends of hers. Put a trace on her boy-toy, too. He might know something.”
Adjusting his belt again, he gave Balidor a withering look.
“Those materials didn’t get up and walk out of here...”
He gestured up towards the House on the Hill.
“And put out the fucking fire...she might have stuff hidden in there.”
Balidor exhaled in relief, even as it occurred to him that Terian had done that, too. Apparently he was more of a sentimentalist than anyone credited him.
The uniformed Sarks bowed. One, a bald male with a tattoo covering half of his face, Balidor recognized as well. His light had a particular bluish tint to it, and structures with an unusually delicate flavor.
His seer name had been Starlen, once.
Balidor glanced at Vash. Within a heartbeat, he made up his mind.
Reaching for the top of his boot, he jerked out a narrow throwing knife.
He flung it at the bald one’s chest.
Starlen slid liquidly out of the way, but Balidor darted forward as the seer next to him reached for his sidearm. Using his arm and momentum, he slid his body so that the bald seer stood between him and the other’s gun.
He grabbed
hold of his hips and trip-threw him into his companion, pivoting his body. The two uniformed seers tangled into one another. It bought Balidor seconds, which was all he needed.
Pulling a handgun from a holster inside his own jacket, he aimed it at the legs of the two watching seers, squeezing off three quick shots to bring them down.
A fourth shot came from his left.
He felt the bullet before he heard the sound...then he was staring at the grass of the garden lawn, which was abruptly eye-level. Green shoots stuck up sideways as his breaths moved them in short bursts.
Holding his side where the bullet impacted his armored vest, he rolled as someone grabbed his wrist, sliding a syringe into the hinge of his elbow. He managed to punch whoever it was in the face.
He broke the syringe with his fingers, jerking out the needle.
When he looked up, at least five rifles pointed at his head...none held by humans.
Assessing their collective aleimi, Balidor went after the youngest.
He took control of his light within seconds.
The youngster swiveled his gun up, aiming it at the other uniformed seers. Balidor was about to speak, to try and reason with them...when Starlen shot the youngster in the temple.
The bullet exploded out the other end of his skull.
Balidor watched, disbelieving, as the seer’s body crumpled.
For a long moment, no one moved. Balidor continued to stare at the downed seer, doubting his eyes, having an emotional reaction even as his eyes flickered up to the murderer, Starlen. As much as Rooks and the Seven fought back and forth, they rarely killed other seers.
Humans, yes...humans who had been taken over by seers being the most common casualties in their longstanding wars. But they didn’t kill one another. Their long lifespan made the consequences too dire, and their dwindling numbers at the hands of the humans made it a matter of species survival, no matter how bitter their factional struggles.
It was one of those unspoken rules.
After what had happened already that day and night…as well as losing Pradaj in the woods, Balidor found he couldn’t look away from yet another broken seer body. Especially one so young.
Allie's War Season One Page 81