She stopped and turned a full circle. "Come out or be gone! You won't deceive me, and you can't coerce me, so speak or leave me be."
The attention she felt gathered itself in one place, concentrating into a singular presence a little further down the trail. It took no physical form, but it felt as real as the village wall. She faced it, words of banishment at her lips as she reached into her belt.
"I know what you are looking for," a voice said in her mind. "I can help you find it. In return, you would provide a service." It spoke without any of the tribes' accents, and the voice gave no hint about age or gender. It felt distant, like an echo, every inflection muted and filtered.
Seruya laughed. "A spirit offers a questionable bargain, hinting at fulfillment of desires in return for a service yet to be named? Surely this has never happened before!" She flung a small packet from her belt in the direction of the presence. It burst in midair, scattering yellow powder. She advanced into it, ignoring the sting in her eyes as she repeated the warding sign with her left hand and chanted a steady stream of banishing mantras. The presence wavered, then dispersed.
Seruya blinked away the tears and looked around. She'd expected more of a fight. The powers she had used would have been plenty to banish any common spirit to the dream world, but this was a different entity. The sense of being watched had not diminished.
Seconds passed and her irritation spiked. "Fine," she snapped. "Come, so we can settle this. If you approach me again later, I'll be even less inclined to this bargain of yours."
As expected, the feeling once again coalesced into an undeniable presence, a few steps further down the trail. The voice spoke again: "I have no hostile intentions towards you or your people. Please listen, and allow me to explain what I am, what I seek, and how we can help each other."
Seruya had been taught to avoid conversations with spirits, since they inevitably involved deception. This entity seemed different in that it aspired to clear communication, where spirits with designs on living people usually stuck to vague hints and dubious promises. She sat cross-legged in the grass. "Speak. I will listen."
"I am one of many who have come from far away, beyond the sky. Some of my people are like me, and others are like you and live in a body. Eventually, their bodies will pass and they become like me, just like I will pass from this existence and inhabit flesh. When I exist in a body, it looks very different from you. Do you understand thus far?"
"Do you have a name?"
"You may call me Sage. Long ago, my people lost something on this world. Cocoons, holding the essences of many waiting to be reborn in the flesh. They were taken by those who lived here then, and used like you would use wood for fire, except our unborn are not consumed. We came to get them back, but these people fled this world to fight us from elsewhere. We have tried to retrieve our unborn ever since. Now those people are coming back here, looking for something of great value that was left behind. We do not know what it is, but we do know they believe it will help them fight against us. We must find it before they do, and we need your help to do so."
"Why do you think I can help you?" Seruya said, mostly to hide her confusion. This spirit was unlike anything from the legends.
"There is a structure close to the mountains, built by those who took our cocoons. There may be information inside that could help. It is also the origin point for the creatures your people hunt. They go there to recover from injury, and breed more of their kind."
He had to be talking about her destination. How improbably convenient. Still, she said, "Vile don't breed. They corrupt large living things with their seed, and use their bodies to make a new Vile."
"They have another method of reproduction. It is much slower, and requires the collection of living things and their processing." It paused. "I know you are wary of me. The service I offer you will be our aid in finding the structure I spoke of, and in finding a way inside. It is unlike the ruins you have seen around your homes because it has not decayed, and cannot be entered easily. I know some of its secrets, and I believe the answers you seek may also be found inside."
"You still haven't explained why you need my help."
"When living without flesh, we can travel quickly and far, and see more than eyes do, but we have little strength. We can move objects only infrequently and with great effort. We need you to act on our behalf."
"So you say we both have cause to enter this structure. You will help me get inside and find my answers, if I then help you find whatever it is that your enemy has come back for. Yes?"
"That is an accurate summary of my proposal."
"Fine." She stood. "I accept your offer, with two conditions. First, this agreement is dissolved if I ever believe you have deceived me. Second, I came here to help my people. We will see what we find in this structure, but I will do nothing more until I have returned and ensured that my people are safe. Once I know that, then I will help you find what you're looking for."
"Agreed."
"Now disappear," she said. "I don't enjoy your scrutiny."
"As you wish. For now, continue on this path. I will only speak to offer directions."
Seruya was alone again. She slowly came to her feet, her mind racing. "Did you foresee this too, Merodakh?" she muttered, and shook her head.
Chapter Eight
Commander Miron shuffled into Control, every limb screaming with fatigue. As soon as he made it to the chair next to Borya, he collapsed into it, earning the dull, empty relief of the truly exhausted. The Ship Master looked him over. "You're killing yourself," he said in a toneless voice.
Miron glanced at him. "You look no better."
"True. But I'm much older than you."
"I'll catch up," Miron said with a tired smile. Borya managed to lift one corner of his mouth.
The six fleet hands at their control stations resembled sandbags in their seats. The faces he saw embodied fatigue, pasty complexions marred by deep black circles under bloodshot eyes. Ipati at the gunnery station had lost half of her hair, once fine and shiny but now reduced to dull, wispy strands waving in the ventilation air flow. He almost fell asleep watching her as she rubbed and rolled her eyes, then blinking furiously to try and stay awake.
The door slid open and the next shift shambled in. They came from downtime, but looked infinitely worse than the crew they were replacing. Osip's cheeks were still wet. Broken blood vessels marred Gugal's face. They found their stations and muttered to their counterparts.
Miron blinked a few times and counted the relief shift. "Who is replacing Yegor at D-Ops? And Bogdan?"
"Oksana," Borya replied mechanically. After a few seconds, the implications of Miron's question filtered through his brain and he stirred, doing the same count Miron did.
"Get up!"
"Back off!"
Navigators Matfey and Osip struggled at their station. Borya appeared by their side, wrenching them apart with his shovel-sized hands. "Hey! Calm down! Where do you think you are?"
Osip stood at attention, trembling. "Master, Matfey won't stand down."
Miron watched the exchange from his seat. Borya didn't need him, and he didn't have anything to offer anyway.
Matfey swung in his chair to face Borya, but didn't get up. "Master, I volunteer for an extended shift."
"Fuck you, man," Osip ground out. "I'm not going back there."
Borya turned to him. "Look at me." Osip kept his fierce gaze on Matfey, who gripped the armrests and bared his teeth in a rictus grin. The Ship Master stepped between them. He gently grabbed Osip's head and forced their eyes to meet. "You're fleet crew. Act like it. Calm down."
Osip gave a skittish nod. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
"Matfey." The navigator hadn't moved. "Go see Rurik in the infirmary. Have him give you something."
Matfey didn't move. Tears streamed down his face. Only when Borya gently took his shoulders did he allow himself to be guided to the exit. Osip sank into the vacant chair, giving a rough sigh. No o
ne else spoke.
Borya returned to his chair, settled into it. He gave Miron a hollow look. "This is almost over," he said under his breath, barely audible over the hum of machinery. "They have nothing left to give."
Miron drew his battered body up straight and leaned towards the Ship Master. He pointed a finger at him. "It's not over," he said with all the force he could muster. "We're not done. It's not going to end this way. Don't you quit, Borya. You're all that keeps them going."
Borya considered a reply. Before he could offer it, something caught his attention. Miron looked over. The Master Tactical Display just completed its shift from the usual bright green to a painful shade of purple.
They looked at each other. Borya closed his eyes and chuckled. Miron's fatigue couldn't suppress a smile.
The door slid open again and Gervasi marched in, followed by Oksana. Miron watched them as they came around to stand in front of him.
"I know you had her killed," Gervasi said, her voice trembling.
Miron didn't try to hide his disgust with the creature standing before him. The Master Second's eyes glittered with satisfied hate even as she affected indignation. "Now you've had your dramatic entrance," Miron said. "What do you want?"
"You can't condescend to me now, Commander. You had Ilari killed. Do you deny it?"
"I don't, but I do question your competence if you think this is the appropriate place and manner for addressing such a concern."
"Why?" Oksana said, the word laden with unassailable outrage. "She wasn't dying, she was in a coma!"
Miron shifted his flat gaze to her. "I know why the Master Second would put on this show, but why are you here?"
"Ilari was my friend," she said in a biting voice. "And you killed her."
"She was stuck in a nightmare," he snapped. "She was never going to wake from it again. Is that what you wanted for her?"
"You don't know that," Gervasi cut in, pouring disbelief into her words. "How dare you make that choice for her?"
Loose, dangerous anger warmed Miron's limbs. He stood, putting him too close to the Master Second and allowing him to look down on her. "She would have never had a voice again. Are you so ignorant that you don't know what would have happened to her? How she would have lived the rest of her life?"
Gervasi didn't back up. She slowly shook her head. "You killed her, just in case that's what she wanted? You arrogant little tyrant, you think you can just sacrifice fleet crew whenever you feel like it?"
"I know your kind, Gervasi. You'll use anything to bolster your paranoid shit. Even an act of mercy."
Her eyes bulged. "Mercy? Convenience! Arrogance! You don't know mercy!"
"Victory, Master Second," he spat. "Mercy for all of us. It's the only thing that matters. Obviously, I don't need to ask if you feel the same way, else you wouldn't be here now, embarrassing yourself."
She laughed. "Victory?" The look of feigned astonishment on her face inspired an urge to violence, barely suppressed. "Like at Wicked Sisters, two months ago? I told you I was there, Commander. You send the entire squadron to die, when you knew Revenge group was less than an hour away! Twenty-two ships blown to pieces. Only two came back." Her voice pitched higher, almost to a shriek, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "And it was for nothing! You could have kept us back! Help was coming! Do you know how many friends I lost? Damn near all of them!"
Twenty-two ships. Five thousand four hundred and seventy-nine fleet hands and guards, and a debt he could never repay. Beneath his fury at the vast well of pain and regret she'd torn open with such glee, Miron felt relief. Other than during his debriefing, he'd spoken with no one about the disaster. Gervasi's words echoed the ones he'd said to himself every morning of the seventy-nine days since it happened. On every one of those days, he'd stood before the mirror with the knife Ilya had given him before he'd sent her to die. Every day, he'd cut a line into his flesh, and sworn he would give answer for the lives he'd sacrificed. "I knew they were coming," he said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't know they were close. I made the decision. I took the risk. That's my job. Yours is to do as you're told."
"How easy for you to say that," she said. "You decide, but we're the ones who die. It's because of you that we're still out here. We should have turned back weeks ago!"
Borya stood and loomed over them both. "He's right. You know it. Everybody's tired, but you've crossed the line. You need to step back." Gervasi glared at him. He leaned forward, almost touching her. "Right now."
Miron expected her to back down. She didn't. The wavering look on her face slowly hardened into something else. Behind Borya, Oksana slowly reached behind her back, staring intently at the Ship Master. Gugal the gunner slipped out of his chair and crept up behind her, tense as a coiled spring.
Part of Miron realized what was about to happen. He had no answer to the situation. Boiling rage filled his mind, and he swore to himself that once it started, Gervasi would die before he did. His hand crept towards his pocket, where the stone knife sat in its sheath. He would only need one cut
"Control, this is Chief Zakhar."
Borya and Gervasi broke off their stares. "What?" Borya demanded.
"Ship Master, Ludmila is dead. Someone killed her."
*****
As soon as she cleared the high traffic areas, Shura activated the aircraft's autopilot and clambered over the back of her chair into the back seat. Popping off the panel over the backrest gave access to the PAV's transponder and communication unit. She reached in with one hand, finding the power supply by touch, and yanked it out, yelping as her fingers struck something hard. Despite the throbbing pain in her hand, she breathed more easily as she returned to the pilot's seat and disengaged the autopilot. She pulled the aircraft into a tight arc and aimed the nose down. Without the transponder, traffic control wouldn't be able to track her if she stayed low enough, nor would her bosses be able to take remote control of the PAV without a comm unit. If the auditors wanted to find her, they'd have to ask the System Defense Command for assistance in tracking her down, and she didn't believe her case warranted that kind of response. If she was wrong, she'd know soon enough.
Her vehicle shook with the strain of flying at full power, but she didn't dare slow down. They'd still be able to track her up to the point where she disabled the transponder, and the faster she got away from her original course, the better. The roofs of apartment buildings and manufacturing centers flashed by beneath her as she crossed the Districts. Construction covered most of Marshal's surface, save for the northern forests left alone for the value of their biodiversity to scientific research, but the planet's population had once numbered nearly twice what it did today. Vast urban areas lay abandoned, left intact to support possible future population growth, but no longer part of the Districts, and no longer maintained. The underground data network still passed through such areas, and still required people like Shura to perform upkeep and occasional corrections.
Ahead, a line divided the sprawling cityscape. Beyond it, the roofs turned a darker shade, the only immediately visible indication she was about to leave the Districts. As she crossed the line, a message on her display instructed her to exercise due caution, because rescue would be delayed in case of an accident. Rescue was the last thing she wanted.
The condition of the buildings below deteriorated quickly as she left the Districts behind. None had collapsed entirely, but moss covered most of the roofs, and grass lined the walkways. She even caught a glimpse of a tree growing out of a window.
Movement exploded across her windscreen. She screamed, trying to maintain control as impacts hammered the fuselage. As the rest of the flock of birds scattered around her, she checked her display, but the unchanged hum of the rotors reassured her even before the readout confirmed she'd suffered no damage. "I guess that's why they told us not to fly so low," she muttered.
A chime alerted her that she was approaching her destination. After curving around a square tower with gaping dark windows, a blinking red light
came into view. Beyond, a wide layer of dark clouds crested the horizon, and a thick grey curtain crept across the abandoned city. She knew from experience she would have enough time to go back for Kirill before the storm reached the Districts, but she might have to fly out through rough weather.
She slowed down and circled the blinking beacon on its tall mast, inspecting the empty square below. Her landing site appeared clear, so she came to a hover and slowly guided the aircraft to the ground. While the engines wound down, she took the survival kit from underneath her seat and clicked it open. Emergency rations to last a week, thermal blankets, a heater and a water still, both portable, and a few simple tools and first aid supplies. Enough to last her and Kirill a few days.
She resealed the kit and stowed it under her seat before lifting her toolbox from its compartment, opening it only to remove the palm-sized stun gun. She'd only needed it once before, on a rare assignment to the northern forests to fix a relay handling data from all the research stations in the area. An eight-limbed purple mander had cut her off from her aircraft, and she'd left the weapon in the vehicle. She'd been forced to drive off the amphibian predator with nothing but loud screams and a few thrown tools, flapping her jacket to appear bigger. She'd sworn she'd never set foot outside in the wild without a weapon again, and although she'd seen no sign of animal life during her flight, she had no idea what might have moved into the area after humanity left.
Her boot settled into a soft bed of purple moss, growing in patches all across the plaza. Once the whine of the engines faded away, a thick blanket of silence settled in the square. A scratchy bird call could do no more than emphasize the total absence of noise.
Toolkit in one hand and weapon in the other, Shura set out for the center of the square. The complete silence reminded her of the forest, and despite her desperate situation, she felt a wild excitement at the prospect of living there. She'd wondered what it would be like ever since she'd first visited during wilderness training, and the quiet had soothed an ache she'd never known she had.
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