Revolutionary Veins

by Rey Balor

  There were jobs to be done that allowed her to remain occupied instead of dwelling on what Nikola wanted for them all, and as the hours morphed into days, her mind continued to return to the note he had written again and again. She would take her pill and eat her powdered food in the morning, pour over Nikola’s records in the afternoon, and dream of the brilliant red color at night. Outside the port windows, the earth loomed and the Atlantis drifted, always in close range. No answers came to her; she simply put off having to come up with a solution herself.

  Two days after they had sent away Nikola, a meeting among the Light Bringers was called to discuss the matter of his successor. With nudging from Johannes, Isaac stood at the front to lead the discussion, although his hands were clearly trembling as he did so. Pat would have felt a flush of sympathy, but her attention was focused on the gleam of silver that was once again drifting by the window. If she had not calculated the orbit herself, she would have believed the ship to be haunting her — to be reminding her that captaining it to the Land of Opportunity was the inevitable path of the Light Bringers. She turned away.

  “I nominate Marie. She’s the only one old enough to take care of the next batch of children,” Isaac was saying. Johannes sat behind him, nodding grimly the entire time. “Sure, she isn’t…right, but she’s something. We don’t know nothing about record keeping or wisdom. We’re meant to go to earth and teach them right. Show them how to use the land, and show them how to expand like our species used to. We have a job, Pat is always reminding us of that much. We can’t give up on that, or Nik’ll have failed. As much as this is our home… As much as, I don’t know, uh, we really like this place… We can’t just…you know, not do anything. We got to do something.”

  There was a range of mumbled agreements from the others. Little Albert shook his head so hard that his curls bounced wildly around him. Shy Rosalind had her knees brought close to her chest and looked as if she was biting her tongue hard to refrain from either agreeing or denying. Even loud-mouthed Jane was posed on the balls of her feet, looking to Isaac as if he carried every answer she had been searching for, when in reality, he was as clueless as she.

  “Marie can’t.” The silence was deafening in itself, twisting into a quality close to poison. It took Pat’s brain a moment to catch up with the words her mouth had spoken, and she blinked in surprise.

  Isaac and Johannes exchanged a look, and someone snickered.

  “Marie’s brilliant,” Pat tried again. She pulled out her notebook to occupy her hands, flipping to the page she had scribbled on during her last visit with the woman. “Like, really brilliant — even more than what we give her credit for. It’s no secret I enjoy her company more than most of yours, but if we put her in charge, we’ll be giving up our mission in another way. We’ll be giving up the future of this ship because Marie won’t leave her room. She’s scared of something, and it’s not right to force her out of it. You’ll be a bunch of brats if you do. There’s a greater mystery here that I think should be our concern until the next group is ready to birth.”

  No one was laughing now, but they watched her, as curiously as they had watched Isaac at the funeral. Sweat coated the back of her knees, and she would have given up then if it wasn’t for all the things she had scrawled on her notebook pages — endless questions jammed in with no answers, answers jammed in with no questions. It was infuriating. There was nothing quite so driving as an unanswered question, and she tapped her fingers against the paper in careful consideration.

  “The ghosts outside,” she pressed her luck. She could almost see the redhead woman smile at the words, and a shiver traveled through her, far different from anything she had experienced from cold. It was not a warm smile, but if Pat closed her eyes, she knew she would see that smile inviting her to explore further. There was a whole ring of these beings, and they were growing in a way she couldn’t comprehend. Surely, the rest of the children could feel it… Surely, they would understand her curiosity.

  The others waited with bated breath.

  “They’ve been brought together in a strange orbit, and something is growing hungry. I spoke about it to Nikola before he left us.” Pat had never been a particularly good liar, but half of telling a good lie comes down to the listeners. If they showed themselves to be strong and sure, it would take a lie with the pull of a planet to convince them of something they may have reason to be suspicious about. On the contrary, if they showed themselves to be frightened and vulnerable, they would believe whatever was easiest to believe. It did not take more than a blip of thought to recognize where her friends stood, and although the lie tumbled out without much grace, it was enough. If this was what it took to discover the truth, was it truly so bad? “He promised he’d investigate, and now he’s become a ghost himself. Before we continue our jobs or appoint a new officer, we need to address these questions.

  Surely someone’s noticed that the ring grows around the earth. They are flying around and around and around, holding answers to questions we haven’t thought of yet! If Nikola thought we should learn them, I say we learn them. It’s not so bad an idea.”

  Once again, she almost felt sympathy for little Isaac. He looked confused and helpless, but the others looked toward him nonetheless. On the ground, he would die; up here, he had found himself in a leadership role he was brilliantly unsuited for, if only because he wasn’t smart enough to remain silent. Finally noticing the stares of everyone around him, he stood from his usual hunched position and gave a shrug of indifference. Rosalind went to applaud but quickly fell silent.

  “If Nik wanted it…” Isaac offered weakly.

  She took it as all the confirmation she needed, and apparently, the rest did as well. Slowly, they began drifting back to their own chambers, lost in a wave of thoughts that did not entirely belong to themselves. Eventually, it was only Pat and Isaac, and he could not seem to decide whether he wanted to keep his mouth opened or closed. He settled on a third option: leave after the rest, until it was only Pat and the imprint of loss on the dull silver walls.

  When she heard footsteps, she assumed it would be Isaac, finally gathering the courage to organize and state his thoughts. To her surprise, it was a female voice that spoke — and one belonging to an individual who had not left her chambers since Pat’s birth.

  “Sun and moon and earth and sky, my oh my oh my. Quiet birds, quiet birds.” Marie looked haggard, with feet dragging against the ground, but it was her. Dull, dirty hair clung to her cheeks, and the hollow glaze over her eyes shifted listlessly across the corridor. Her mumbles turned discernible only as she continued to shuffle forward, walking past the girl.

  Pat could only stare in wonder at the sight; it was more of an omen than any ghost could ever be. “Marie?” Even the name fell flat, voice hitching higher. She inched closer, reaching her hand out to tug Marie to a stop, but when her skin brushed against the woman, she let out a yelp. It was ice cold, almost tinged blue with the sheer burn of the temperature. Marie finally noticed her, and the lines of worry on her face became more pronounced.

  “You know the ways, the duels, and the birds outside. They’re so soft. Are they even there anymore? No, Nikky said. No, no, no, but I heard, and I saw, and I prayed, prayed, prayed,” she said. She seemed to focus the longer she spoke, brows furrowed in determination for Pat to understand. Who do you pray to? Pat wanted to ask. The old god or our new pillar of science? If it wasn’t for the intensity in which Marie stared, Pat would have believed she had forgotten her presence altogether. Marie reached for her, not quite touching her, and mumbled on. “Yes, she said. Yes, they’re there, and they’re alive. I can’t say for you to whisper about it because whispers cost. We all know the payment.”

  Ah, the payment. Understanding dawned on Pat as brilliantly as the sun over the blue planet beneath them, but for once, she was hesitant to give it. In such a short time, secrets had become something she was all too familiar with, and in a strange way, they had begun to sustain her — to drive her
forward in the same way unanswered questions had. She froze, but Marie had fallen silent, neither expecting an answer nor wary of one. She simply existed in the moment, afraid of something that had long since passed.

  “I slept in the cockpit once for our birthdays,” Pat said

  “No,” Marie whispered in response.

  Never had she denied one of Pat’s secrets, and the girl fumbled for a second in an attempt to recover. “I’m… The thought of open spaces terrifies me.”

  “No.”

  “I once switched Albert’s boots with my own because his were nicer.”

  “No.”

  Frustration quickly settled in, although she knew what the woman wanted to hear. Superficial knowledge had ceased to be good enough, and for a response, Marie would need a piece of information that would give her power, not just reciprocity. “I’ve had…dreams lately — most nights, actually.” Pat returned to her lip chewing habit as a spring of anxiety rushed through her. “There’s a woman there. There’s a ghost there. Nikola told me to set aside my worries about the ring and focus on the enlightenment of earth, but it’s everywhere. Something’s going on, Marie.”

  Finally, Marie smiled, and with a nod of her head, it was clear that Pat had chosen the proper secret to tell. Marie leaned forward, grabbing hold of Pat’s wrist to lock her into place. The anxiety grew harder in the girl’s stomach, but she strained to hear every word. “Follow it, Hypatia. You know where to go, and it’s the same place Nikky wanted to send you.”

  “Earth?”

  Marie shook her head, and there was no glaze over her eyes anymore. “No, not earth — not yet. You know where, Hypatia. It’s time you learned. You’ll ruin everything he worked for, but you’ll save us all.”

  Outside, so far by human terms and yet so near by space terms, the shiny gleam of the Atlantis passed close to the larger station. The small craft was empty and devoid of all hints of life, but it was filled with fuel and a computer far ahead of anything in her home. Pat could not see it through the port window, but she could feel it.

  It called; according to Marie, she should answer.

  Chapter 16: The Citadel

  “Lacking but little of death do I seem.”

  Death’s Lament, 42.8

  The fall of their boots was almost loud and almost constant enough to chase away Claymore’s thoughts. The captain bid Shishpar and Glaive to wait in the bottom hall for their return, but as Claymore walked up the spiral steps to Caliana’s chambers, their ritual of routine was interrupted by a startling comparison: had the staircase toward their prisoner always so harshly resembled the spiral of cells looming in the heart of the Citadel? Of course it had, they immediately reprimanded themself. Caliana Sekhon would be a prisoner no matter where the Queen stashed her. The fragile light piercing through the windows of the staircase made the dust all the more visible, and Claymore covered their mouth as they ascended. Images of the city sprawled in every direction from their vantage point, and their stomach squeezed in uneasiness. The city had eaten the land, and the only hint of nature was the occasional green of a tree.

  Only once had they gone beyond those borders.

  When Claymore first joined the ranks of the Aegis, on the eve of their fifteenth year, it was always on their watches with the Queen of the Vanguard that Claymore found the most comfort. The woman’s veil covered all but her eyes, and it was in silence that the pair found their companionship. There were never troubles with her, for the Queen was gone more often than not to run the trading ports leagues away. Business was a field that she played well, and once, Claymore had even been allowed to accompany her on the trail. For one who had never stepped outside the city, it was an inspiring experience.

  The far away port town did not have sprawling buildings and markets like the Citadel, nor were its structures nearly as grand as the one the Queens called home. It was small, surrounded on three sides by water, and Claymore frowned in distaste at it then. It reinforced an old idea: the Citadel was home, the Citadel was greatness, the Citadel was all. Never had the dust of the beloved city choked them until now, when it scratched their skin and caused their throat to tickle. Click, click, click, their heels continued to fall, and Claymore sought to look beyond the certainty of that moment, beyond the certainty of their boot falls, as they neared the top. Something was wrong — something immediate.

  When Claymore had returned from their port trip, the silence of the Queen was different somehow. Suffocating. It was then that Claymore began appreciating the Queen of the Range all the more. The stout woman was warm in every sense of the word, but exhaustion was constantly beneath her expressions. There was never enough food, never enough water, never enough resources, and it fell on the Queen of the Range to find them. An appreciation of her did little to help her, and the feeling of uselessness that accompanied their time together was one that Claymore shied away from. More and more, others were assigned to the Queen of the Range’s guard, and their own assignment fell to the Queen of the Pillared Lands.

  Purpose was said to be bred into the Aegis, a purpose given by Death itself. The shields remained with one Queen for long periods of time before switching the guard, but Claymore remained with the Queen of the Pillared Lands for only a few brutal weeks before requesting a shift. They believed they would never get the stench of alcohol from their skin, nor the ringing of her enemies from their ears. Every room in the Queen’s segment of the Citadel was lit like the dungeons, like these very stairs, with dust and natural light alone. It unnerved them then as it did now.

  From there, Claymore was sent to the Queen of Stone. The woman spoke in riddles they had never been able to fully understand, and their time with her passed in a blur of monotonous routine. The Queen of Stone represented everything a Queen should be, and Claymore was everything a future captain should be. Together, the pair spent time doing their duties, and when it was time to part for the changing of the guard, the two did so on amicable terms. When Claymore came to the Queen of the Summer Isles, they expected the same. Instead, they found that she was kind, and she never asked anything in return for it.

  She asked a lot now. The truth about Caliana47 was constantly buzzing in the back of Claymore’s thoughts, but for every doubt Claymore carried, they recalled the Queen’s request to trust her. There was no reason to do anything other than that, and hadn’t they made their choice clear when they defied the Queen of Stone?

  I only ask you do your best to grant purity to the others here, the old woman had asked Claymore in death. Did she know that the captain was assisting Caliana — a wolfling who had been captured because of that very belief? Did she understand that by asking such a thing, she would force herself into the whisper of thoughts that clouded Claymore’s head?

  So it was that it remained Claymore alone who knocked on the wolfling’s door at the peak of the tower. Shuffling came from inside, and by the time Claymore unlocked the wooden frame, Caliana was sitting peacefully at the small table, staring out the only window. It showed the expanse of an empire. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, with hands pressed close to her stomach. The wolfling, dressed in white clothing that washed away all color, hardly moved at Claymore’s arrival. She looked tamed, and it was a moment before the captain could bring themself to interrupt her.

  “Are you ready for your walk?”

  “You know, my gramma’s one o’ the fuckers who built those walls. Looked up to her, I did. I think she’d be fuckin’ pissed at me to see what I’ve done.” It wasn’t an answer, and Caliana seemed to realize that. It was a scoff. “I was like her for a while, but you knew that one, didn’t you? She’d always tell me, ‘as long as those walls stand, bird, the Old Ways are standin’ as well.’ I stood by those walls, and I studied them. Oh, I knew the stories about the walls o’ the Citadel — that they were built on the bones and ashes o’ wolflings. I didn’t give a fuck. Still don’t in a lot o’ ways.”

  “The others are downstairs,” Claymore said with a clearing of their throat,
gesturing to the door. They did not want to hear the story of Caliana beyond what they had read in the records. Nothing would change, they were adamant about that much. Nothing would change. Understanding flashed in Caliana’s expression, and a dark promise seemed to accompany it: everything had already changed, captain. The wolfling motioned for them to step closer, and hesitantly, Claymore did as they were bid.

  “See, I studied the walls so often that when the wolves came howling, I didn’t even question ‘em. I bore my neck to ‘em, and they told me a tale I haven’t forgot. Called me one o’ the chained-folk, and aye, they were right. You ever been called a chained-folk? You even know what that means?”

  “I am not chained,” Claymore answered, grasping their hands tightly behind their back — so tightly, their palms were almost pink with pressure. Everything was changing rang in the air between the two. The captain looked toward Caliana, and they saw only the eyes of the old woman48 staring back. Their nostrils flared in response. “I serve a function as a cog in the Citadel, and it is a great honor to do so. I am only sorry that you lost your place here and fell down a path in which few return. I am not chained.”

  Caliana snorted. “Figured you’d say something like that. You know what I said when he called me that? I asked ‘em if I’d ever be anything else, and they took me to their King. He told me the walls would crumble, and I told him they already were.”

  Claymore was an arm’s length from the wolfling, and they felt utterly uncomfortable by the closeness. It was the same feeling that had come over them when they returned to the Citadel with the Queen of the Vanguard — something was different, even if they could not place a name to it. Something was wrong.

  “He showed me a fuckin’ glorious world, he did, but he wanted to die,” she continued. “Stole a ship to see it happen, and die he did. Me? I’ve only wanted to live. I thought the Erie-folk were my chance, but they were stupid about it. So what do I say when the Queen o’ the Summer Isles herself suddenly wants what they did — wants to see those big walls finally fall? I say yes, and I bide my time. I live in this fuckin’ hell o’ a room, and I wait. I see why it is she wants it, and I wait until her little pet takes a step too close.”