Hadder needed to understand how much the general populace actually knew. "Wait, wait. Calm down. Tell me. Who killed a Caesar?"
Lilly looked ready to explode from Hadder's perceived stupidity. "Who killed a Caesar? Who do you think? The fucking Risers killed a Caesar, that's who!"
Despite Lilly's hysteria, Hadder was encouraged by the fact that the residents, much like himself, had not entertained the idea that another Caesar could have committed the murder. The Risers were a known entity, a defined enemy. Although terrifying, illicit killings were expected of them. A group of Caesars, however, turning oversized weapons on residents of the Setting, would be too much for the populace to bear.
Hadder wiped the sleep from his eyes. "Ok, well, they're obviously starting to test the Skirt. But this will cause the Caesars to tighten up. They won't be caught off guard again." The lies flowed like cheap gas station wine.
Tears welled in Lilly's cognac eyes. "Marlin, I'm scared."
Hadder motioned her over, buried her in a hug, whispered what she needed to hear. As the sweet words came out of his mouth, however, his mind went to other places, combing through potential strategies. If the residents were previously willing to rely on the Caesars for protection, perhaps Hadder could leverage the death of Galba to spur the Setters into action.
As he silently laid out the words he would use to persuade resident leaders, Hadder's bare shoulder grew wet from Lilly's Sistine's warm tears.
CHAPTER 23
Hadder listened as Royal did the talking. Tired of traveling across the city to meet one-on-one with resident leaders, often in vain, Royal had called a meeting of a select group of Setters at The Royal Jelly. Royal wisely held the meeting late in the Solay so attendees could simply stay put and catch the Bar's upcoming concert, where the increasingly popular Lilly Sistine would blow the audience's collective minds. Hadder stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest, his opinion of the average resident diminishing by the comment.
"It should be clear by now," said Royal to the leaders in attendance, "Although the Caesars are still our most formidable resource, they're not invincible gods as many of you had hoped. There have now been two Caesars who have met untimely fates at the hands of Risers. Will we let them fight our battle alone? Will we allow them to get picked off one by one until there are no guardians of the Skirt? Will we let the Risers take their time, crossing over the Skirt unencumbered when the time is right?
"The Caesars against the Risers is not a fair fight. The Setters against the Risers is not a fair fight. But our combined might, fighting together shoulder-to-shoulder, might be enough to turn the tables, allowing us to win this upcoming war and protect the lives that we have worked so hard to rebuild. In this city that is ours!"
There was some applause from the gathered audience, but not enough for Hadder's liking. Had anyone but Hadder known the actual cause of Galba's death, there would be no applause, only soft weeping from both men and women. What else did these people need to see?
Things were moving quickly now, at least on the Riser side of things. In addition to the death of a Caesar, there were reported attacks along the Skirt. Risers were sneaking through Caesar defenses to wreak momentary havoc before returning to the safety of the Rising. While most assumed it was merely the result of increasing attempts, Hadder wondered if something much more sinister was afoot. Hadder wondered if perhaps some Caesars were letting Risers through, aiding them in their terrorist efforts.
Equally worrying was the continued trend of Setters defecting to the Rising, eschewing their soft lives for those of hardened warriors. The overarching thinking of these individuals must have been that it's better to be a heartless raider than a literal heartless corpse.
Hadder sighed deeply as Royal continued to work the crowd. Although they were slowly gaining support, it would be too little, too late at this rate.
"How's it looking," asked Lilly as she came up beside Hadder.
"Grim. It's not easy convincing anyone to fight, much less a group that has been atrophying for years - no work, no responsibility, no struggles. And now we want them to get out of their comfy beds and step into the fire. They're gonna need something extreme to wake them from this eternal dream."
"And the death of a Caesar wasn't enough?"
"Apparently, for some, but not for most."
"Then what do they need?"
"I wish I knew."
"Marlin." Hadder looked down into her sweet eyes, saw the fear and sadness there. "Are we going to die?"
Hadder tried to find the words to comfort her. He wanted nothing more than to do just that at that moment. But when his hands raked through the sands of reassuring sentences, they came out empty. "I don't know, my love. But I'm going to do everything I can to prevent that."
"I don't want to die again; the first time almost killed me."
Hadder looked back to the resident audience, unable to hold her desperate gaze. "Yeah, me neither. But I'm not going back to the Before as a goddam angel of vengeance, either. So, I'm going to fight."
Pressed close against him, Hadder could feel Lilly's body deflate a bit, as if the last bit of hope for a peaceful resolution slipped through her slim fingers. "I need to get ready for the show."
Hadder, his attention squarely fixed on a resident leader who was speaking to Royal, simply nodded absently. Lilly Sistine slipped away like a ghost, floating backstage to get ready for her performance.
"How's he doing?"
Glen shook his head. "Sad sack of shit won't leave his living quarters. I check on him occasionally and have a manikin bring him three squares. Poor bastard's broken, but he can be fixed. Just needs time. And to stay away from the fucking chemicals."
Hadder put his hand on Glen's shoulder. "Thanks, brother, means a lot to me. Jonny VV and Reena pulled me from a dark place that I had called home for a long time. I can no longer repay Reena, but I can sure as shit try to do right by Jonny."
"Some say you did right by Reena, too."
"Vengeance ain't repayment."
"No, I guess it isn't. Well, don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him."
"You coming to The Royal Jelly this Haela?"
Glen shook his head in the negative. "Nah, got too much to do around here. See these guys here?"
Hadder looked around Cranesman to the dozen or so men and women gathered around the simple wooden tables. "I see."
"They're all in with us. Gonna fight to the end, if it comes to that. We're all gonna get a nice buzz on and start to work. Gonna get the manikins started on some weapons and then continue work on fortifying this place."
"Good to hear, Glen."
"The Risers think they're bringing Hell with them, but if they attack this group head-on, they're gonna find out who the real demons are."
Hadder couldn't help but crack a smile at his friend's dark words. Mostly, he was happy to see that some were coming to the same conclusion as he had, that fighting was the only way to preserve life. But a small part of him was smiling for another reason - the thought of blood spray caressing his skin as he cut down Riser after Riser, filling the Rage's hungry mouth with the lives of others.
"I'll leave you to it, then." Hadder turned to leave.
"Oh, shit, I almost forgot." Hadder turned back to Glen, who handed him a small tan envelope made from strange material. "Someone dropped this off for you. No one was here at the time, so it was left with the manikin."
Hadder looked at the envelope, on which his name was written in masterful calligraphy. He fingered the odd veiny paper before releasing the soft seal and taking out the note within. He read over it several times before putting it back and placing the warm envelope in his jacket pocket.
"Good news, I hope."
"Too early to tell. Good? Bad? No idea. But whatever it is, it will be bizarre. With this one, it always is."
Marlin, darling, I absolutely must see you. Whispers in the shadows suggest much. Meet me atop the Perch at the fall of Haela. Kisses. LM.
&nbs
p; Hadder reread the note as he stood on the Perch, his mind returning to his first Solay in Station when Miles provided the worst orientation to the city possible. Hadder had no idea how long he had been in the city; time worked differently in Station, but it certainly felt like a lifetime since he had first looked down from this height.
"Thank you for joining me, darling."
Hadder glanced to his right and watched as Lester Midnight precipitated from the darkness, his white eyes and hair appearing first, his golden clothing next, and his black skin completing the arrival.
"I never thought you'd leave Biomass, Lester."
"Drastic times call for drastic measures, now don't they."
"Would you call these drastic times?"
"Well, if these aren't, then I don't know what is, darling."
Hadder held up the beige note. "Whispers in the shadows, Lester?"
Lester Midnight moved in, uncomfortably close. Hadder could feel the enigmatic man's breath on his face, could make out the flecks of gold dancing in his white eyes. "Whispers to most. Shouts to me and my network. I hear all, eventually, darling."
"And what do you hear, Lester?"
Lester's white lips twitched. "There is a viper in your house, darling."
"I don't follow."
"A traitor. A betrayer. This person walks among you, wearing the skin of a Setter."
Hadder straightened at the ominous news. "Who?"
A pained look flashed across Lester's face. "I'm sorry, darling. We don't know. A figure was seen passing into the Rising late one Haela. Now, this is not strange as it happens more and more these days. But none return. None but this one. It was dark, and my spies were far, so that's all I know. But if this person was allowed back over, it was with devilish orders, you can be certain."
"Do you know where this person went? What Cluster he returned to?"
Lester looked almost sad. "My spy lost him in the gardens, darling. He could be anywhere in the Setting. I worry for you, Marlin."
"Risers want me dead. And now at least one Setter may want me dead. I better keep my head on a swivel. Thanks for the information, Lester. I truly appreciate it. But why? You seem so above all of this."
"There are so few true artistes left, Marlin. I would be sad to lose one of your stature, darling."
Hadder's face contorted in confusion. "But I'm not an artist, Lester. Remember? I don't paint, and I don't make meat sculptures like you."
Lester laughed. "Oh, Marlin, such a narrow definition of an artiste. Your Rage is your art. I see it acted out on your face and in your actions every day. I kick myself to this day that I wasn't able to see it, but my spies tell me that your work, Skeelis on Stick, was absolutely breathtaking. Not an artiste? I laugh at your humility."
"You know the Risers will come for you, too, Lester. Or will you also join them when the moment comes?"
Lester joined Hadder at the railing, looked down at the magical city beneath them, a black canvas decorated with immense bursts of color. "No, darling, there is nothing beyond Station for Lester Midnight. I am one of the few who always knew that this place was not forever, that it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Therefore, I can proudly say that I made the most of my extra time. I created art that the world will never see again, using the human body as both paintbrush and canvas."
"And when the Risers come?"
Lester straightened at the rail, his knuckles tightening around the metal. "Oh, I won't go easily, darling. Everyone is born with the understanding that death is coming, that each day it is fought off. I mean, that is what living is - the denial of an easy death. We all failed our first test on this subject. I refuse to fail another."
"Then, you will fight with me, Lester?"
Lester turned to face Hadder once more. "I told you before, darling. When the blood starts flying and screams fill the air, look to your right. Lester Midnight will be there, creating my piece de resistance. I have spent all my time carving up the bodies of my subjects. Now it is my turn, but they will have to work for it. Their blood will coat my blades long before mine covers theirs."
"And Biomass? What will happen to your installations?"
"Like Station, art installations are fleeting, doomed to be admired and then replaced. They served their purpose, just as I will serve mine. Biomass will become a pyre when the Risers attack."
Hadder nodded. "Fair enough. Thank you, my friend." Hadder put out his hand to shake Lester's, but the strange artist put his black hands to each side of Hadder's head, pulled him closer, and placed a gentle kiss on Hadder's forehead.
"I hope you make it to the final battle, darling. The Fall will be a thing of beauty."
"I'm trying to stop the Fall, Lester."
Lester shrugged. "Beautiful either way."
Hadder made his way towards the stairs but was stopped by more words from Lester. "And, Marlin, you may want to hang on to that note and envelope."
Hadder looked down at the leather-like message in his hand. "Why's that, Lester?"
Lester smiled coyly. "I'm not one to support the defacement of another's work, but we knew your installation wouldn't be left alone for long."
"Installation? Lester, what are you talking about?"
"My men took some skin from Skeelis's head before it was removed. I made stationary from the fiend."
Hadder looked down, half in horror and half in grim satisfaction. "This message is written on Skeelis?"
"Indeed, it is. You know I'm not one to waste perfectly good material. And now you have something tangible to remember your vengeance by. You're welcome."
Hadder laughed, placed the envelope back into his jacket pocket. "Thanks, Lester. You're never one to leave me disappointed in a meeting."
"The best is yet to come, darling. Trust me, the best is yet to come."
CHAPTER 24
Meetings with the residents continued. Some were successful, others were not. As Royal spoke, Hadder and Glen would peruse the audience, looking for any sign of betrayal. While Royal knew most everyone in Station, many remained unknown to Hadder. Unfamiliar faces always looked suspect; Hadder imagined each of them fingering sharp blades hidden in their jackets and coats.
Progress also continued, with weaponry coming out of the manikin shops each day and residents fabricating any metal they could find into instruments of violence. Additionally, Solays were increasingly spent exercising, practicing martial arts, and drilling attack plans. Chemicals were still imbibed, but more to accentuate the training and help harden the body than to soften the mind. While they still had a long way to go, Hadder was encouraged to see some residents' willingness to die fighting for their lives.
Stories of brutal battles made their way across the Skirt as The Krown's forces put forth full effort in eradicating the remains of Ego Rounds' followers. Despite being insanely outnumbered and with no hope of victory in sight, those remaining of the South Rising loyalists fought valiantly, utilizing the traps, terrain, and fortifications that Ego Rounds had so brilliantly put into place. Hadder smiled when he thought of the beautiful and deadly Kamaria defeating another of The Krown's battalions, stubbornly denying the death that she knew was right around the corner. Hadder believed that if she could hold The Krown off for a few more weeks, those in the Setting may have a chance.
Hadder and Cal walked the Skirt in silence, the bright rays of Solay allowing them both to take in their surroundings completely, marking areas most susceptible to Riser attacks or crossing attempts. With the alarming news that some of the Caesars may be actively working with the Risers, Hadder took it upon himself to strategize with Station's guardians, only working directly with Cal, whom he trusted implicitly. Every now and then, Hadder would point something out to Cal, who would nod or offer some small counterpoint. Eventually, Hadder grew tired of the elephant in the room.
"Have you discovered which Caesars are supporting the Risers?"
Cal kept walking, kept scanning the landscape. "Not yet. We are good at hiding our emo
tions, hiding our thoughts. But I have my suspicions."
"If you have your suspicions, why not call them out? Let them know you're on to them. Force their hand now, not when your back is turned."
Cal shook his head. "I cannot. I'm not sure yet how many there are. An accusation would set off a fight. A false accusation would set off a more brutal one, and we could all kill each other in a single skirmish. Then where would you and your Setters be?"
Hadder closed his mouth, unable to argue Cal's point. They continued south along the Skirt, below the Celebration Cluster and the Perch, when a large field referred to as the Grasslands opened up on Hadder's right. Often used for large games of soccer or football, it now sat empty, the times for joyous frolicking a thing of the past. Hadder nudged the giant creature in the ribs. "You could wage a hell of a battle there."
"Silence," was all that Cal said, squinting as he walked. Hadder peered down the Skirt and saw what the Caesar was trying to decipher, a flurry of activity a few hundred yards further south on the Rising side, past the Grasslands. "Let's go."
Cal tore down the Skirt at a trot, with Hadder running full speed at his heels to keep up with the sentinel's impossibly long stride. They slowed as they approached a smattering of Risers, perhaps two dozen in total, who were working on something on the ground, out of sight from their position on the Skirt. On the Setting side, thirty or so residents from the nearby Cluster had gathered, apprehensively watching the Riser activity.
Two Caesars were already standing guard on the Skirt before the Risers, a giant gray block of stone called Titus and a pink-skinned colossus named Jules. In his large hands, Titus held a hammer that probably weighed as much as the average resident. Hadder nudged Cal again, pointing his chin towards the hammer, before giving the guardian a suspicious look.
Cal bent down to whisper. "Many Caesars change up weapons, grabbing the first thing they see before patrols. Plus, there's no way the killer would have used his own equipment."
Station Page 27