Crusades

by S. J. Madill

  Zura nodded. It was strangely fitting, she thought: the endlessly-patient Irasa had someone waiting for her, someone even more patient. "You will be with him sooner than that, I should think. Much sooner."

  Irasa was pulling off the gloves of her armoured suit. She gave a meaningful look toward the door to Zura's bedchamber. "Someone waits for you too, Mahasa."

  A moment's confusion, before a smile came to Zura's face. Not for the first time, she realised that yes, someone waited for her. Centuries of life alone had made solitude a habit, and it sometimes still surprised her to realise that her future might be different. "Thank you, Irasa."

  "Yes, Mahasa. Until tomorrow."

  Zura crossed the floor of the cabin. The smile was still on her face as she entered her bedchamber.

  Beyond the foot of the bed, a couch sat against the wall. In the middle was Pari, bundled up in her thick black coat. Her head was back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open. On her lap, a datapad had slid from limp fingers.

  Zura stood there a moment, quietly pulling off her gloves. The room was in darkness, apart from the warm glow of the reading light over Pari's shoulder.

  It was quiet enough for Zura to make out the gentle gurgle of Pari's snore. The absurdity of it made her want to laugh: her lover — she had a lover — slumped indulgently on her couch, snoring. Moments like this never happened in the romance books she used to read. Everything in those stories was elegant and perfect, with lights and music and magic. Not snoring.

  She thought of Irasa, whose lover was planting a garden for her. Waiting for her. The idea didn't seem so absurd now.

  Zura set her gloves down on a table and approached the couch. Her kinetic bandage clicked as she sat down next to Pari.

  The human woman stirred with a decidedly unromantic snort. "Huh?" she started, her eyes struggling to focus. "Oh. Hey."

  "Hey," said Zura.

  The glow from the reading light warmed Pari's eyes. "I think I fell asleep."

  "You did."

  "Ah." Pari scanned the bedchamber, her eyes stopping at the window. "We're on the move." She looked back at Zura. "It's tomorrow, isn't it?"

  "It all ends tomorrow."

  Pari raised an eyebrow. "Well, that sounds ominous." She smiled and rested a hand on Zura's leg. "It's going to be fine. I believe in you."

  Zura looked Pari in the eye. "I've made a decision, Pari."

  "Oh?"

  "After tomorrow, when the war is over and Pentarch Yenaara establishes a civilian government… I'm going to retire."

  The hand on her leg gave a squeeze. "Are you sure?"

  "I am," she nodded. "I'm…" She took a deep breath; the warmth flooding up from her chest tightened her throat. "I'm tired, Pari. Tired of fighting. Tired of pain and struggle and blood. Tired of death." Just saying it was like summoning it: a scattering of images from her memory. Battlefields strewn with bodies. Faces spattered with blood and drained of colour. Eyes going dark as the life left them. "By the Divines, I'm done. I don't want to do this anymore. I have Yaella, and I have you, and…" She fell silent as words stopped coming.

  Another squeeze of Pari's hand on her leg. "I understand. God knows, you've done your part for queen and country. You've earned some rest." That mischievous smirk tugged at Pari's mouth. "We'll keep busy."

  Zura cleared her throat again. The heat was trying to get through to her eyes. She'd thought it all through, and like one of her books she'd already guessed the ending. "We'll have only a short time—"

  "What?" Pari shifted on the seat, turning to face her. "Wait a minute. What on Earth are you talking about?"

  "I'm Palani, and you're human—"

  "I've noticed, yes."

  "We'll have time together, but you'll age and I won't. Our time will end so soon—"

  Pari frowned. "So we shouldn't start? Are you kidding me? I mean…" she looked to the far corner of the room, as if searching for something. "Look… have you ever gone dancing?"

  "Not since I was little."

  "Then we'll have to go. Anyway, imagine you're at a dance, and your favourite band starts playing your favourite song."

  "And?"

  Pari's eyes were locked on her. "And even as they start playing, you know how the song ends. You know that in a few minutes, the song will be over and you'll be sad. So you know what you do in the meantime?"

  Zura raised an eyebrow.

  Pari leaned forward. "You dance. You get your ass up there, and you dance your heart out. You dance, and sing, and laugh, until the music ends." Those brown eyes stared into hers. "And you smile, Zura. Some day it'll be over, but until then…" She leaned even closer. "Get it?"

  Zura found it hard to speak. Instead, she put an arm around Pari, who happily folded against her. How did this human woman stir her emotions so easily? "Is that your plan for me? Take me dancing?"

  Pari's head was against her shoulder. "It's on the list."

  The black coat rustled as Pari shifted again, curling up under Zura's arm. She hesitated when she heard the clicking of the bandage. "You okay? Are you sore?"

  "Everything is sore. But I'm comfortable."

  "Okay," mumbled Pari. "Good." Pari leaned into her and sighed, like she was ready to fall asleep again. "So what's your plan after you retire?"

  "I hadn't given it much thought." Zura looked down at the woman curled against her. "Something peaceful. Irasa gave me an idea…"

  "Oh? What?"

  "I don't know. She was talking about her lover planting a garden for her. Would you want that?"

  "Wow," whispered Pari. "Really? The goddess of war, planting a garden? For me? I didn't expect that."

  Zura cleared her throat again. "Like you said, it's on the list."

  "Nice," mumbled Pari, her voice growing quiet. Within moments her body relaxed, still curled against Zura.

  Tomorrow would come; it was only a few hours away. It would be a day of struggle, of doing things that couldn't be undone. Of lives ended too soon.

  She felt the heat of the woman leaning against her.

  But for now, I have this.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Sitting in the pilot's seat, Yaella watched the stars. The armoured breastplate was comfortable enough for her to forget she was wearing it, but feeling the sharp corners of the gun in her pocket made it hard to think. More specifically, it made it hard to think about anything other than the gun in her pocket. Mom had talked about how some people behaved differently when they had a gun, as if the gun would somehow solve all their problems.

  She drummed her fingers on the armrest. Tal was talking over his shoulder to Bucky, but she wasn't paying attention. Instead, her mind was replaying how she'd lost her temper at Ocean. What would she have done if he hadn't stopped? If he'd tried to dissolve the Union fortress? The gun in her pocket thought it had the answer. Was it still murder if it prevented a hundred murders? Or a thousand? Was there a point where it became 'okay'? She'd asked Ocean the same question when she'd yelled at him, and he had no answer, either.

  Would I have really pulled a gun on him? She chewed her lip. Could it have been…necessary? Divines, I hate that word.

  "Jesus, Chief. You're literally staring into space."

  She smiled at Tal. "I guess I am."

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine," she said absently. "We almost there?"

  "Uh huh." Tal checked the dash. "Just a few seconds."

  "Hey," said Bucky. "Did you call your mom? What's going on back home?"

  She turned around and looked over the back of the seat. "I left a message. But it's the middle of the night, Palani time. She's either asleep, or laying wide awake and thinking."

  "Like you."

  "I guess."

  Tal chuckled. "You're more like her than you care to admit."

  Yaella didn't say anything; she just looked back out the windshield. In truth, it had occurred to her. Was she becoming more like her mom, or did her mom just make more sense now? Was that a sign of getting old
er? When she was little, she'd thought the universe would always turn out okay. She'd thought everyone had someone to help them. Someone to stand up for them when they got in trouble at school for punching Shirley in the face again. Would it be so bad to be a little like Mom?

  "And… voila," said Tal. He made a theatrical gesture toward the windshield.

  "What?"

  That feeling once again: the momentary drop in her stomach. Outside, the stars sprung back into place. Front and centre hung a beautiful Earth-like world, with deep blue oceans, broad brown continents edged with green, and the swirl of white clouds.

  Tal whistled. "Nice."

  "Yeah," said Yaella. More land than New Fraser, and less ice than Palani Yaal La. A lot like Earth. "Bucky?" she asked. "What d'you see?"

  "Huh."

  She frowned. "Come again? Care to elaborate?"

  "Sorry. I mean… I expected satellites, but there aren't any. I expected cities, but there aren't any of them, either. Just mile after mile of ruins. And…"

  When Bucky fell silent, Yaella turned around. The gun in her pocket pressed against her hip as she leaned against the seat.

  He was staring at his console, tapping at the display. The Handmaiden stood behind him, leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed over her chest. As usual, Yaella hadn't heard the white-clad Lanari come into the cockpit. "Bucky?"

  "Yeah, okay. Sorry." He didn't take his eyes from the screen. "I had to fine-tune the scanners. There's stuff underground, Blue. Gigantic caverns a kilometre deep, full of machines. There are tunnels connecting the caverns, even across continents. There's thousands of caverns, but only three of them have power. One of them is running." He looked up from his console. "That's where the settlement is."

  "Huh. So that's where we're going. Tal?"

  Beside her, Tal gave a thumbs-up. "On it, Chief."

  "Okay." She thought a moment. "Bucky? What was that about ruins?"

  "Yeah. Everything above ground is flattened. Looks like there was a giant bombardment. Must be centuries ago now, based on the overgrowth."

  "But it's safe, right? Radiation? Toxicity?"

  "All good."

  Is that all there is? No satellites, no defences? Not even a challenge on the comms? Ocean said the Union lived in a state of perpetual war. Where was the war? Was it over, and the ruins were all that was left above ground? Were the slaves forced to operate underground machines?

  The Blue Guardian shook as it entered the upper atmosphere. "How many people down there, Bucky?"

  "About a thousand, I think. Scanner's having trouble seeing into some buildings."

  She studied the screen on the dash in front of her. All those ruins and caverns, and only a thousand people? "I don't get it."

  "Maybe it's like that fortress, you know? Tons of tech they can't fix. Maybe their war wrecked everything."

  "Maybe." Yaella watched as they descended through the clouds. Tech they can't fix. Not so different from the technological house of cards they depended on today.

  They levelled off a kilometre above the surface. Below them, a thick canopy of green stretched from horizon to horizon. Gaps in the canopy gave glimpses of what lay underneath: blocky jumbles of ruins and smooth paved surfaces, all tangled in the underbrush.

  A broad clearing caught her attention. "Wait," she said, pointing. "What's that?"

  The clearing was a broad ring of white: a paved circle, hundreds of metres wide, surrounding a yawning hole in the ground. As they passed over, she got a better view: the hole in the middle was a smooth-sided vertical shaft a hundred metres across, that descended deep into the ground. Massive pipes rose out of the depths, curling over the paved apron and into the trees. Ahead of them, three more holes dotted the canopy. "Holy hell," she whispered.

  "They go deep," said Bucky. "And they're connected to each other through tunnels. What d'you think? Housing? Manufacturing? Entire cities?"

  "We're nearly there," said Tal. The Blue Guardian began to slow.

  Below them, the settlement stood out: rows of red buildings gathered near one of the massive white-ringed holes. Not far from the hole, the rows of buildings lined the edges of a hectare-sized plaza. Faded lines were still visible on the pavement: parking spaces for ten big ships or more.

  "No beacon?" she asked. "No traffic control?"

  Tal shook his head. "Nada. No ships, no comms. It's just us."

  "Huh," she said, chewing her bottom lip. "Let's land." She could see dots moving on the ground: people were converging on the landing area.

  "Hey Blue?" asked Bucky.

  She peeled her eyes away from the windshield. "What's up?"

  "You still got your gun, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "D'you want me to bring my carbine? I can't hide it…"

  "Yeah," she said quietly. "I don't trust any of this, not yet. This doesn't look like a planet in the middle of a civil war. It's too peaceful. Isn't it?"

  "That's what I was thinking."

  Yaella didn't bother asking the others. Tal wouldn't carry a weapon, and Lanari wouldn't be caught without one. And Ocean…

  That reminded her. "Set us down, Tal," she said. "We'll go out through the cargo bay."

  "Will do, Chief."

  Yaella climbed out of the pilot's seat and over the central console. Bucky and the Handmaiden stepped aside as she headed aft.

  When she arrived at Ocean's pod, he was sitting on the floor inside the hatch. His eyes were already on hers.

  She took a deep breath. "Hey," she said, as she crouched in front of him. She hoped they weren't going to argue again. "We're at the planet the Union officer pointed us to, and—"

  He had a curl to his lip she hadn't seen before. "And you're here to see if I'm going to do something stupid, like dissolve the planet. Right?"

  Her first impulse was to apologise; obviously, he'd been offended by her yelling at him. But, damn it… "Yeah," she said. "Maybe I am. Maybe I don't want innocent people getting killed. We're here to learn what's going on." She made a small wave of one hand. "That's it. I'm not here to play judge, jury, and executioner."

  "Like your mother does."

  A burst of heat flushed her face. "Fuck you," she snapped. Her hands clenched into fists. "Leave her out of it. She's spent her life fighting, and what were you doing? Moping and planning revenge."

  He shrugged. "Say what you will. I act in the name of my people. That gives me the right—"

  "Bullshit," she spat. She jabbed an angry finger at him. "Don't get all self-righteous with me. Are you even listening to yourself? You don't act in their name; you use them as an excuse. Is revenge what they wanted? Is it? Did they leave you a note, saying 'once we're dead, please kill as many people as possible'?"

  His dark glare held hers, and she could see the tension in his face as muscles moved in his neck. After a few moments of her heart pounding, he finally looked away.

  She tried to soften her voice. "Damn it, Ocean," she said. "Call me an asshole if you want. Whatever. But you have a unique power, and people with power need to be accountable. They need to answer to something. And since there's no one else around, and you're on my ship, then for now you answer to me."

  A sneer twisted his face. "You?" he scoffed. "What gives you the right—"

  "Oh, give me a break," she snapped. "You say you're acting on behalf of the dead. It's convenient, isn't it? I can do it, too: I'm going to act on behalf of the living." She threw up her hands. "See? Easy."

  "That's idiotic." He glared at her, his sneer fading.

  "Exactly."

  Yaella rose to her feet. "Get up," she commanded. "You're coming with us. We're going to meet these people and find out what's going on here." She turned to leave.

  "Yes, Mahasa."

  She stopped in her tracks. "Don't call me that again," she said, then walked away.

  Through the entrance compartment, she stormed toward the cargo bay. The heat was slow to drain from her face; she'd never been so irritated by someone. If she
'd known then what she knew now, would she have let him on board in the first place? If she hadn't, he might've just found a ride with someone else, and gone off seeking his stupid revenge on the Union.

  She shook her head. I could second-guess myself all day. She needed to focus on what came next.

  When she entered the cargo bay, Ocean a few reluctant steps behind, the others were waiting for her. They all looked at her, then at Ocean. Everyone must've heard her arguing with him; it wasn't like she'd been trying to be quiet. If any of them were surprised or concerned, they didn't show it.

  Bucky stood apart from the rest of them, checking his carbine. "We good, Blue?"

  Keep moving forward. Don't dwell. "You bet. Drop the ramp and let's say hello."

  The ramp unlatched. A crack of light appeared at the top, which became an ever-widening strip of daylight. Yaella saw blue sky, then the tops of tree-sized ferns, then the roofs of buildings in a familiar shade of red. Was that red stuff on sale or something?

  Dozens of people were waiting outside, spread across the ancient landing pad. The surface of the pad was cracked, with tufts of grasses poking through.

  The people facing them looked unremarkable at first, but she began to notice differences: some wore jackets or coats, while others — with pale skin or blue hair — stood in shorts and bare feet. Hybrids. Her people: some with human body temperatures and some colder, like Palani. The crowd was looking past her, trying to see into the back of the Blue Guardian. They seemed surprised, even disappointed; whatever they had been hoping to see in the Blue Guardian's hold, it wasn't there.

  At the front of the crowd, a short line of people stood apart. They wore the same simple, sturdy clothing, but had small squares of gold metal pinned to their chests. They seemed equally disappointed with what they saw coming down the ramp.

  Well, excuse us. Sorry we're not whatever you were hoping for.

  The sight of red caught her eye. Near the back of the small crowd were people in armour. Their clothes looked the same as everyone else's, but they had breastplates, leg plates, and helmets; all of it made from the ubiquitous dull red material.