by K Alexis
"I see." The interrogator drew another picture. "You must be aware that the possession of any written material in a Neomer tract carries the penalty of a one-year readjustment per violation." He picked up a book from the bag and dropped it onto the ground. It hit the floor's tiles with solid thud. "One," he said. He repeated the action. "Two. Three. Four. Five. Si—"
"Mea's going to be pretty pissed if she finds out about this," Tath commented.
"Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Ele—"
"Keep going," she said, sliding down in the chair and closing her eyes. "There's over a thousand in there, but I hear repetition is the key to learning."
"Mixter Morehouse, as you have probably guessed, we are not interested in you," the man responded. He stopped withdrawing books from the bag.
"Great," Tath said.
"If you would write us a statement saying that Stehlan Ehrans had been tricked into becoming a reader and writer by Meagh Tristan, the mutant, we would be more than willing to let you go." He looked down at the device once more. "Agra as well."
"You better lock me up then … if you can do that to a Morehouse," Tath replied. "I don't even know if that's legal these days. It wouldn't be if the king had his way."
"Listen, Mixter More—"
The sound of shouting in the corridor interrupted the interrogator. Tath could pick out a prison guard's calm responses, but the agitator was too fired up to speak clearly. All Tath could determine was that he came from the Old Isles and his rounded accent sharpened to a point when he yelled. There was a knock on the door. A woman with long, orange hair poked her head in.
"I'm sorry, Mender Yearls," she said. "There is a man outside claiming to be from the FC. He would like to talk with you."
Mender Yearls jumped up and brushed his clothes down. "The FC? Let him in." He adjusted his jacket until it hung precisely from the edges of his shoulders.
The intruder was a man in his fifties with a day-old beard. Tath thought everything she needed to know about him could be found in his hairstyle: it was a no-nonsense, medium shave that let his salt-and-pepper colors show through. His thick jacket, stoop and rectangular face complemented her original thesis—and although he may have been significantly under six feet, his assertiveness made up for it by filling every crevice of the room they were in. He thrust his N-Comm in Mender Yearls' face.
"See it?" the intruder spat.
"Yes, sir. I'm honored you've come to take over."
"Take over?" The FC member pulled at his nose disapprovingly and pointed at Tath. "You. Feet off the table."
A part of Tath wanted to fight the command, but the part that had kept her alive up to this point told her to obey. She did as she had been ordered, crossing her arms afterwards to show her displeasure.
The FC member slammed the door closed and paced the cell, touching the wall as he went. "Inexcusable," he said, yanking an object from the padding. It was a small circular contraption that had a long cord and looked like it had been connected to another device. Tath guessed it was what pre-Cataclysm folk would have called "a camera." The FC member continued, "We can't let you regular lot do a single thing. It was probably the Corsairs recording us, and now they know everything about her we do."
"We checked," Yearls stammered.
"Always excuses with you flatties." The FC member stomped over to where Tath was sitting. "You," he said to her. He shoved the large N-Comm off the table. Tath could hear its screen shatter as it crashed onto the floor. "The name's Advocate Nal. But call me 'Nal' unless you're royalty or a goat lover."
"Are you here to arrest us?" Tath asked.
"'Arrest' you? That's Corsair language right there. I should have you placed on work duty just for propagating stricken vocabulary eight-seven-nine. But no, I'm not. I'm here because some flat-ass, flat-hill, flat-heads thought they should charge Stehlan Ehrans with a serious disruption. Stehlan 'Builder of Flyers from Wood and Spit' Ehrans. That's you, right?" He glimpsed down at his N-Comm. "'Steh?' The nickname you took to see the globe?"
"No, I'm Tath. Telia Morehouse. Even the flat-hill knows that."
Nal looked at Tath, his N-Comm and then back at Tath. "You're not Steh?"
"No."
"Steh's a man?"
"Yes."
"When did men become good at inventing? Is detective work beneath him or something?"
* * *
SINCE NAL AND Tath had entered Steh's cell, it had promptly filled with harmonizers of all ranks. Even an administrator stood in the corner, their eyes unblinking as they watched the proceedings. Steh was unsure if this change of circumstances boded well or ill for their group.
Nal tapped the schematic Steh had pocketed on the gondola. Steh had given it to his previous interrogator as proof he designed his inventions without the aid of words, in stark contrast to what Clarke was asserting.
"You're saying, to all of us present, every contraption has been crafted from something like this?" Nal asked. The new interrogator held up the group's portal card and waved it at Steh. "Even the ones stashed from public view?"
"Why don't you have a look?" Steh suggested.
"Because I'm not a fool who believes everything my snitches say," Nal replied. "Only you know where this thing leads or what security enchantments it has." He threw the card on the table so it was in reach of Steh. "What I do believe is that writers can't help themselves once they've gotten the bug. They can't even remember what they've written on or not."
Steh guessed Advocate Nal's intentions. He asked, "You want me to withdraw some more of my designs from the portal?"
"Got it in one. You must be a genius or something." Nal sneered at his own joke. "You even try a firework spell, and I'll put you so deep on imagination re-drawings that you'll be tired of mice by the end of the third day."
The shackles on Steh's hands jangled together as he picked the portal key up. Due to the card's connection to the tides of power, his anti-magic manacles generated a stinging heat that made Steh wince while he held the device. He opened the portal and promptly dropped the key back on the table. Reaching into the glowing circle, he dug around until he found a couple of blueprints meeting Nal's requirements.
"These are mine," he said. They were simple designs. One was of an exploding arrow that created a ten-second black hole, and another was of a coat you could use as a sail or parachute when the need arose. The garment had three buttons to control its transformation and used a context-response enchantment to locate a safe landing-zone. Neither had been field-tested because creating their prototypes would have put the group so far into debt that they would have needed to create a best-selling imagination series and marketed its merchandise to small children for the next two decades to break even.
Nal leaned over and peered at the squiggles and scratchings on the blue paper. Seemingly satisfied, he pulled out a cigarette. "Male inventors," he muttered before taking a drag. "What next … male philosophers?"
"Are we free to go?" Steh asked, rolling up the documents.
"Hold still," Nal said, lifting his N-Comm up to the same level as Steh's face. It clicked and Nal took a few more draws of his smoke. After his communicator beeped, Nal said, "Well, with that life-force probability match, I ain't holding you back." The advocate reached into his coat and withdrew a food-stained, dog-eared letter. "From the rectors," he said. "If you checked out, they wanted an audience. They'd probably like to meet the lot of you." He tossed his cigarette onto the floor and ground it out beneath his heel. "Hope you didn't have any plans for tomorrow."
Sat, 25 Oct 65 P.C.T., 8:07am: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]
Steh's safe and a Starfire. He's not the inventor you're looking for. Leave him alone.
What type of golem?
3:23pm: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]
I assume you sent Nal to help. Thanks.
Twenty-six: The After
TATH SAT ON the edge of the hotel room's bed and listened to Mea singing in the shower. It was the first time she had heard her frie
nd's voice since Nucia, and Mea was crooning the ancient evensong "Float till the Shore is Gone" in soprano. It told the tragic tale of two lovers who had been doomed by a deity's jealousy.
Growing up, the couple had lived in the same village and fallen for each other as their bodies had matured and blossomed into adulthood. However, once they were married, their love and passion for one another became so pure—so radiant—that it attracted the interest of a demonic serpent from another universe. Unable to believe that such spiritual beauty existed, it decided to test the fortitude of their bond by separating them. So, the malevolent god opened its mouth and gushed water onto Earth's surface, creating the continents. As the oceans rose, the lovers watched helplessly as they drifted farther and farther apart on their separate land masses. Slowly grasping how vast Earth was, and how little chance they had to be reunited, they both dived into the swelling water and swam in the direction they had last seen their spouse—dying in the process.
It had been one of Tath's favorite songs in her teens, but as she had gotten older, she had become increasingly reluctant to admit to her earlier infatuation with it. And once she had experienced love and loss herself, the ballad's depiction of devotion seemed too sentimental and surreal. Despite all of this, as Tath listened to Mea's rendition of the tale, she yearned for a connection that would survive whatever the universe demanded of it. The type of bond a Navigator might require to invite a meager human to travel the universes of existence with them.
It was one of the few moments in Tath's life that she felt lost. She no longer knew what the best course of action was. Anger at Mea's betrayal bubbled beneath the surface … yet an enflamed desire to accept her friend's offer did as well. Steh's near-death experience had made one thing clear: she could not save her friends forever. Eventually, some unknown and unexpected assailant would kill them—herself included. And if she could not protect her adopted family, then why continue to suffer? Why not transverse the cosmos with a woman she liked, and if she worked hard at it, might fall in love with?
The shower stopped and Mea walked out. She was wrapped in the shortest towel the hotel had provided them with. Taking her glasses off, she stomped them underneath her feet. "I don't see the purpose in pretending anymore," she said.
"It was a good ruse," Tath admitted.
Mea shuffled awkwardly, her hands running up and down the towel as if they did not know what to do with themselves. "Is there any way I could make you understand?" she asked.
Tath leaned forward and groaned. "I don't know," she said.
Mea sat next to her. "I've been thinking. What if I left Stehlan alive and we struck out on our own? You and me against the infinite powers of galaxies. Isn't that a story worth writing?"
Tath looked at Mea. "I'd buy it."
"Then, why not? I'll miss my mother and sisters … but you are the family I want to be with. Isn't that enough for you as well?"
Tath ran her hand through Mea's wet hair. "I really wish it was. I wish I'd met this version of you years ago and we'd debated what novel to visit until the stars extinguished. But right now, I … I'm not sure. There's too much shit bouncing around my brain to follow my heart."
Tath hopped off the bed and stood up. "I have to talk to Agra and Steh about our plan of attack. Will you be up for a while?"
"For you, I'll try." Mea smiled tenderly and blushed. "I thought the towel was going to work."
"I kissed you, didn't I?" Tath responded. "You're already halfway into my soul and three-quarters into my knickers. Try not to be asleep when I get back."
"I'll be waiting."
Tath took two steps and paused. "Promise me that you won't kill Steh until I've made a decision."
"Sorry?" Mea stammered out.
"Promise me that you won't murder Steh. Not until I've made decision."
"I can't do that," she replied. "I can't chance losing you and my mother."
Tath felt her face go hot and her pulse race. She gritted her teeth. "Life isn't a constant cost-benefit analysis, M. It's about making a choice and sticking with it, no matter what shit smacks you in the face. Just … just … get some fucking rest. I don't sleep with goddamn machines." Tath stormed out.
* * *
AGRA LEANED ON the counter of the hotel's bar while taking in the posh surroundings and sophisticated patrons. A harmony composer sat in the upper-left corner of the venue and combined the magnetic flow of Earth with the nature-based elements in the room—water from the fountain, marble from the tables—to produce an upbeat synth score one could dance to. Around her were a series of standing tables packed with well-dressed men in suits and bishts nodding appreciatively, and beyond them lay semi-circular booths dimly illuminated by honey-colored lighting. Only when the purple, yellow and green strobes flashed could Agra make out the other patrons in the bar; they were a good mix of genders, ages and cultures.
The revelation of who Junko was had hit him hard. If Jetta had not saved him from Elia, he knew that he would have eventually kept diminishing the importance of the pirate queen's disclosure until he could have justified reigniting a relationship with his ex. But Jetta had rescued Steh, fought Elia, and risked releasing a Starfire to aid him. If he could not trust her after all of that, who could he trust?
The bar's counter lit up as a woman wearing a kaftan approached. From the embedded jewels glowing blue in the wooden top's surface, he could deduce she was a modestly skilled nature mage. Although he appreciated the information about her, he did not enjoy having his ability, the skill to "read" tides of power, broadcast to the world by the flashing white gems in front of him. They blazed in intermittent bursts and acted like blinking arrows did in pre-Cataclysm cartoons. He felt exposed and wished Junko had chosen a different place to meet.
Thinking about his ex-girlfriend pushed the issue of the shimmering jewels to the side. Agra stared down at his C-Komm lying on the counter. Junko had finally messaged him back—in a way that had confirmed everything Jetta had said. As he took a sip of his beer, he re-read his ex's note.
Sat, 25 Oct 65 P.C.T., 6:04pm: Junko [channel 37A4R]
You're welcome. And the golem's type is restricted. Don't worry your pretty head about it. All you need to know is that it's got your Navigator, is extracting her memories and has allied with the Grinners. If you meet Nal as planned tomorrow, everything will be fine.
As for us, you still up for that threesome? I sent Zia, the watcher, over to the hotel. Let me know when Tath and the others have gone back to their rooms, and I'll meet you.
"Another round?" the bartender asked.
"Hmm?" Agra replied.
The barkeep stretched out his long fingers and tapped Agra's beer mug. It was empty. "Deal gone bad?" he asked.
"Just plain old existential anxiety." Agra handed the mug back to the bartender. "You got anything for that?"
"It's called Vodka." The barkeep placed a half-full glass of the clear liquid in front of Agra. "The best you'll find in this town."
"Then make it two," Tath chimed in, sitting next to Agra. "If we get drunk enough, we might even make sweet music together. This instrument is ready to be played, if the virtuoso thinks he can handle it."
"Ma'am," the bartender started, "I don't know if this is—"
Agra waved him off. "She's not who you think. She's with me."
"But not in a romantic way," Tath added. "We're simply good friends." She raised her voice as the barkeep moved away to prepare her drink. "I was joking. I wouldn't sleep with him even if he begged me. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Don't spread malicious rumors about us."
"You've forgiven me quicker than I expected," Agra said.
"We pinkie-promised we'd be friends for life, and no-one should drink alone. There's a law forbidding it."
Agra motioned toward the rest of the customers. "I am very alone."
In one swift motion, Tath downed her drink. "Trying the old technicality route, huh? Well, the saddest people in the world are those who sit in a room full of
others without a connection. That's what I've heard."
"Camus?" Agra queried.
"Beer ad." She snapped her fingers and pointed to her drink to indicate she wanted a refill. The bartender nodded. "I can't find Steh," she said. "And I've got two zeppelins full of questions for him."
"He said he was going to the corniche."
"Where? That's tens of miles long."
Agra sipped his vodka and sensed its warmth spread down his throat and then span out through his body. His fingertips felt as if they had been placed on a cushion of air. "Funny, he didn't tell me. Almost like he wanted to be …"
"Oh, fuck off," Tath snapped. "You men and your obsessive need to take long walks instead of dealing with your emotions. I hope he slammed the door on your ass as he went out." She picked up the second shot. "A really good slam. The kind of rebuke a jilted lover gives their companion after they walk in on them riding a cowgirl with nipples as hard as spurs."
"Are we talking about Steh?" Agra questioned, gently.
Tath skulled her second Vodka. "Yes. Why? Is there someone else who was recently betrayed? Someone with a magnificent ass that has a curve so full people sometimes stare at it for hours? Someone who's rescued you from a dozen prisons and hell-holes that even the devil herself thought were 'a bit on the much side'?"
"I'm sorry I didn't send you a message," Agra said.
Tath slammed her glass on the counter. "You let me fuck her. You let me do that shit knowing what she'd done. Now what? How am I supposed to untangle our soul ties? A few minutes ago, I was upstairs thinking about eloping. I was thinking about becoming monogamous."
"I didn't know until it was too late." Agra replied.
"But you suspected, you had an inkling. Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you talk to me first?"
"How could I have convinced you that Jetta wasn't a scammer?"
Tath spun left, right, left on her stool. "I don't have any fucking clue," she said. "But I would have tried. Goddessdamn, Ag, I would have tried."