by Erin Grey
And the little girl did nothing to help.
You have everything and they have nothing, hisses the Deep Dark. You’re bad. You can pretend to be good, but I see the real you.
53
The bit where Aidon won’t let me
“Jane, stop!” Aidon seized my arm, preventing me from pushing the knife all the way in. “Jane, this isn’t the way. It isn’t you.”
“He needs to die!” I fought against his grip. “You could kill him with your power!”
“It’s not the answer.” His voice gentled. “If you do this, you’ll be the one who gets truly hurt.”
I looked into Aidon’s eyes and saw myself as he must have seen me: vicious, angry, a wild animal in a corner. Deciding who lives and dies to fulfil my own twisted sense of justice.
I slumped and released the dagger. “I’ve become the villain in this story, haven’t I?”
Aidon’s mouth tipped up, but his eyes were sad. “Not quite that bad. But you know this won’t solve anything. And it’s not what you really want.”
“Wanna bet?” growled Sandy.
“Rwaaar,” said Emmy.
Aidon was right. If I’d learned anything from this mess, it was that everyone deserved a choice. I had no right to take Zhian’s away from him. But I could give him some damn good incentive to make the right one.
I pulled the tip of the dagger from his chest—it hadn’t gone in very far, me not being particularly strong—and held it to his throat. “Heal yourself.”
The wound on Zhian’s chest closed.
“Now promise me you’re done with the Regulators.”
He gulped, his Adam’s apple grazing the blade. “It’s not that simple. My country—”
“Life isn’t simple, but this choice is. Promise you’re done helping them and I won’t carve my name on your oesophagus.” I leaned a little closer. “At least I’m giving you a choice, which is more than you gave me.”
“It’s for Caruthia—my people. You saw the suffering—”
I pressed down on the dagger, drawing a thin line of blood.
Aidon put his hand on my shoulder. “Jane, you’re taking this too far.”
“Back off, Aidon. This is between me and Kidnappy McKidnapper17 over here.” I kept the dagger firmly in place. “Come on, Zhian.”
“They already suspect I helped you escape. If I break with them, I’ll become a target. I’ll have to go into hiding.”
“Consider it penance for kidnapping and attempted drugging. Besides, you’ve got a spaceship and all those reruns to watch. You’ll be fine.” I poked him with a finger. I absolutely did not specifically choose the place where a spine still stuck in his arm. “Now, promise. Go on. You know you want to.”
“Aargh.” He panted, and I lifted my finger. “Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll break with the Regulators.”
“And never ever help them steal people from Earth again. Go on, say it.”
“And never ever help them steal people from Earth again.”
“Hear that Aidon?” I asked. “I’m counting on you to keep an eye on him in case he changes his mind. In which case you have my permission to send his ass through a portal so I can kill him myself.”
Aidon rolled his eyes as I slowly retracted the vines from around Zhian. Except for a nice strong one that tightly bound his hands.
“One last thing,” I said. “You’re going to tell us everything you know about the Regulators’ plans. And we’re going to record it.”
17 I blame Sandy for that particular word choice.
54
A Story
Once upon a time, on a planet far, far away, there was a man who loved a girl named Niamh.
The man and his friends sat talking around the fire one day.
“The hogs are a danger to our children,” they said. “We have no peace because of them. Let’s eat all the hogs.”
“But hogs dig in the ground and turn the soil so that things can grow,” said Niamh. “If you eat them all, there will be no hogs left and no one to turn the soil.”
“But they’re dangerous. We won’t miss them.”
“You’ll want to eat more when you’re done,” said Niamh.
“No we won’t,” said the young men. “We’ll be full and at peace.”
But after they’d eaten all the hogs, the man and his friends were still hungry. They weren’t at peace.
“The Yewnikruns are too strong,” they said. “If they turned against us, they could kill us. We should eat them next.”
“But the Yewnikruns carry seeds from the plains to the forest,” said Niamh. “If you eat them all, there will be none left and no one to carry the seeds.”
“But they won’t be able to attack us either. We won’t miss them.”
“You’ll want to eat more when you’re done,” said Niamh.
“No we won’t,” said the man who loved her. “We’ll be full and at peace.”
But after they’d eaten all the Yewnikruns, he and his friends were still hungry. They weren’t at peace.
“The nundas conspire against us!”
“The koboldi threaten our freedom!”
“The guanis infringe on our lands!”
“There’ll be nothing left,” wept Niamh.
When the young men had eaten all the animals, they turned to the plants and trees. And when all the plants and trees were gone, they turned to people. And when all the people were gone except their children, they ate their children. And when everyone was gone except themselves, they still had no peace.
“Niamh is always complaining,” they said. “We have no peace because of her. Let’s eat her next.”
“But I love her!” said the man.
“What is love when there is no peace?” said his friends.
So they ate Niamh, and the man cried many tears.
Then there were no hogs, no yewnikruns, no plants or trees, no people, and no Niamh. Worst of all, there was no peace and the man and his friends were hungrier than ever. But the only ones left were themselves, so they tore at each other until they were nothing but fragments.
Finally, there was peace.
55
The bit where things don’t quite go according to plan
“Now what do we do with him?” I asked Aidon once Charis had remotely recorded Zhian’s long and detailed confession. It was worse than any physical punishment I could have given him. Releasing a video of him—a member of the infamous Cæcus family—condemning the Regulators and blowing the Senator’s plans would end any possibility of living free.
“I have somewhere in mind,” Aidon answered. He put his glasses on, went cross-eyed and shook his head, then removed them and folded them into his pocket. “It’ll keep him out of trouble until I know you’re safe.”
Charis directed us to a portal, but Aidon took us on a detour to drop off Zhian. I wrapped some leaves around Zhian’s head so he couldn’t track our route. We kept to tunnels and valleys to prevent the Regulators picking up on our energies.
“We’re walking faster than before,” Sandy noticed. “But we’re not getting tired.”
“Aidon hasn’t put his glasses back on once,” said Gwendolyn.
Jasper observed Zhian’s dragging steps. “Zhian is not coping nearly as well.”
We ascended a mountain, and the air turned colder and colder as we gained on the snow-tipped summit. I had only my prison overalls for protection and Aidon his trusty shawl, so I generated the softest, cottony-flowered creepers I could to wrap around us. I even covered Zhian—I didn’t want him to die before he was well and truly humiliated by his video. Sandy giggled evilly.
Hidden in a dip between a cluster of peaks, we found Aidon’s friends tucked away in a stone fortress. We stamped slush from our feet as the great wooden door slammed closed behind us, cutting off the biting cold.
“Kleisthenes!” Aidon greeted the silver-skinned giant with a firm clasping of arms. “How’s life in the mountains?”
“It’s all about sur
vival, man,” boomed the colossus. “And keeping ten steps ahead of those Regulator bastards. What brings you to this altitude?”
Aidon waved at Zhian, who drooped from the excruciating pace we’d kept. “I’ve got a friend here who needs minding until I can get this charming lady to a safe spot. Think you can help us out?”
“Of course,” said Kleisthenes with a grin. “Adrastus can make a nice alternating gravity field to put him in. He’ll be learning to fly half the time and bonding with mother Eorthe the rest of it.”
“Perfect,” said Aidon. Adrastus took Zhian away, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“What can I offer you?” Kleisthenes spread his hands. “Food? Drink?”
“Those would be welcome,” said Aidon. “And warm, dry clothes. But first, I’d like to request a scan. Are you still the king of holograms?”
Kleisthenes bowed. “Of course. And our medical scanners are all operational.”
“I want you to check Jane.”
“Looking for something in particular?”
“No, just run a general scan.” He glanced at me. “She’s been through a lot.”
Kleisthenes lead me to a compact, sterile room that gave Mitch panic-stricken flashbacks of the examination room at the Regulator’s headquarters.
“You’ll be alright,” said Aidon, squeezing my shoulder. “Lie down here.” He indicated the table with a thin mattress laid across it. “It won’t take long.”
A whirring sounded, and the table itself buzzed. Kleisthenes’ hands flew above the tablet he held. Then he looked up, and a hologram of the cells inside my body appeared in the air.
“Hmmm,” he said.
“What is it?” asked Aidon.
“I just want to try something.” Kleisthenes tapped the tablet and said, “Scope: zoom to pico scale.”
The table hummed, and Kleisthenes projected a new hologram, one filled with elements I didn’t recognize. The hologram rotated and tilted in synch with his gestures.
I lifted my head to better see the image. “What are we looking at?”
“These are your cells at the atomic level,” said Kleisthenes, eyes on his tablet as he tapped and swiped. “Ok computer: run simulation.”
The hologram erupted into what appeared to be a series of atomic explosions. Once the activity died down, the image reverted to its original configuration.
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” breathed Kleisthenes. “Your cells are all brand new. If I damage one, it regenerates immediately. And the atoms in each cell—they don’t decay. The subatomic particles are permanently bound together and completely stable.” He shook his head slowly. “Infinite internal regenesis.”
I swallowed. “What does that mean?”
“Unless you are incinerated instantly, you can’t die.”
“But …” said Mitch. “Must die.”
“We’re going to live happily ever after!” exclaimed Gwendolyn cheerfully.
“Yay!” said Emmy and giggled.
“I don’t like it,” said Sandy. “It means we don’t have a choice.”
“I believe this is a perfect example of irony,” said Jasper.
“She can’t die?” Aidon blinked and twitched his head like something was caught in his eye.
I jumped off the table. “Scan Aidon.”
Aidon got on the table, and Kleisthenes ran his scans and tests. He was the same. We were both doomed to live forever.
Aidon saw my obvious distress and sat up. “It will be alright, Jane. We’ll be alright.”
“More than alright,” said Kleisthenes. “I have a lot of questions for you—”
Aidon held up a hand. “Please,” he said. “Not right now.”
“I want to say goodbye,” I blurted.
“What?”
“Before we go on to the portal, can we contact the base? I’d like to say goodbye, if it’s possible. And apologize to Ric.”
Aidon swung himself to his feet. “It can be arranged.” He turned to Kleisthenes. “Can Adrastus organise a force field so we can communicate with the base without interference?”
Kleisthenes nodded, arms folded across his chest. “As soon as he’s done with your prisoner.”
Aidon walked over to me and clasped my hands.
“It’s been a long trek,” he said softly. “Shall we eat and rest first?”
He took my wan smile as agreement, and we followed Kleisthenes to his dining hall. The hot food dispelled the last fragments of cold from the journey through the snow, but it did nothing to rid me of the bone-deep chill from what I’d just learned.
* * *
After we’d gotten into dry clothes and eaten, Adrastus set up a small field around Aidon and me so we could contact Charis. As soon as her voice came on the line, I started talking, not letting Aidon get a word in.
“Charis! I didn’t have a chance to thank you for helping me escape. I’m so sorry I dragged you into my drama!”
“I’m just happy you’re alright,” she soothed. “But I’ll be happier when I know you’re safely through that portal.”
I winced. “Go directly to the portal. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200 dollars.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Just a silly Earth thing. How’s Ric?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Ric’s voice came over the communicator. “Jane! You’re still here?”
“Ric! I’m so happy to hear your voice. Are you ok?”
“I’ve been better.” He chuckled.
“I’m really sorry, Ric. I shouldn’t have run. If I’d known I would put you all in worse danger—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “It’s in the past. Charis tells me you got us some info.”
“Was there anything there you could use?”
Charis chimed in. “We found evidence of the campaign to tag all those considered differently-energied. I’m putting together a series of dooks and dispatches along with Zhian’s video. If we flood all the podiums in one go, we should be able to get the message out there before it can be stopped.”
“What about the extraction of humans from Earth?” asked Aidon. “Any evidence of that?”
“There is evidence that a small number of humans have been brought to Eorthe and tested, but nothing to prove the plans to use them in a war.”
“That’s a problem,” said Aidon. “If we make the accusation without enough evidence, we could discredit our entire campaign.”
BIOS reminded me of a fact I’d absorbed. “Isn’t Charis’ husband a Senator? Can’t he help—”
“He can’t be involved,” said Charis in a hard voice quite unlike her.
“But your children—”
“He CAN’T be involved.”
“Do you not recall?” said Jasper. “Quirinus explained that Charis must keep her activities completely separate from her husband’s, so that if anything should go wrong, their children would be safe.”
“We’ll focus on the tagging campaign, as the evidence is conclusive,” said Aidon. “It should get a strong reaction if we take advantage of the related octothorpes. We can dig into the other allegation for a future attack.”
I grabbed Aidon’s sleeve. “I want to see it happen. I want to be here when the messages go out.”
He looked down at me, and his mouth twitched. “Charis? When did you plan to start the flood?”
“I almost have the messages ready. Once you approve the content, I’ll line them up so they all go out at the same time. The threads get maximum activity in about 3 hores. That’s when I’ll release the story.”
I tugged Aidon’s sleeve. “We can do it.”
His face did a little dance of uncertainty as he searched my eyes. “Ok,” he said to Charis. “Let’s do it.”
The hours rushed past as we debated the perfect way to word the messages, what pictures to use, what text from the stolen documents to quote, what parts of Zhian’s video to show, what octothorpes to use. Then Charis an
d Ric set up the dominos, ready for the single tap that would set them to falling.
I clutched Aidon’s arm as we waited. We had no screens to watch; we depended on Charis and Ric to update us.
“Story messages sent,” said Charis. “Now we wait.”
The seconds ticked past like mountains turning to sand.
“Ten re-dooks,” said Charis.
Five minutes passed.
“One hundred re-dooks.”
“Rumblr and the other podiums are getting plenty of slaps and re-dispatches too,” added Ric.
“Ten thousand re-dooks.”
The knit went wild with conversation and dialogue. Where did the story come from? Where was this barbaric planet? Why did no one stop the young men?
“It’s time,” said Aidon once the story had reached one million re-dooks.
Charis published the next set of messages, using the octothorpes from the story: “UsForThem” “AllLivesMatter” “UsToo”.
The reaction was instant. Charis and Ric read out some of the responses.
@iamhamster
Good. Abnormals should be locked up!
#LockThemUP #StopAbnormals
@retrogradeatom
This is a conspiracy of Normal Supremacists spreading energy hatred. What’s next? Genocide?
#RightsForAll #AllLivesMatter #UsForThem
@porgbetty
This energy hatred has to stop
#EndTheStigma #AllLivesMatter #UsForThem
@floofyflerkin
Senator Cadgwaladr should be impeached. He’s going to send this country back to the Blood Ages. We have enough problems!
#UsToo #AllLivesMatter
@trumpcard
Make Caruthia Great again!
#CadgwaladrForArbiter
We’d done it—created a chain reaction that would change the world.
Except for one little thing.
It didn’t.