by C B Williams
Wren smiled back and nodded in acknowledgment. “Flick said you had some news?”
Mouse nodded. “Flick was doing so well pumping the Martials I decided to take a little solo through some other KinLands.”
Wren’s couldn’t hold back a frown but said nothing. Mouse had her invisible ways.
“Some deal has been cut, Wren. I don’t know all of it, but the Cull will go after only your KinFolk.”
Only her Kin? Culled?
For several moments Wren couldn’t think of a word to say. “It’s either Fergus or MacMichaels’ doing,” she spat, then felt a chill course through her. “Or both,” she added.
“I’ll find out more,” Mouse promised.
“It’s one way to increase your KinLand,” observed Flick. “It is pretty crowded down here.”
“It’s crowded everywhere on this planet,” Wren said, “except for Rubble.”
“Which doesn’t help us much with our current situation,” Flick replied.
“Maybe not this time, but it will,” Wren said.
Mouse raised her eyebrows.
“My plan is getting more and more real,” she told them both with a smile. “But we need to solve this problem first, or there won’t be any KinFolk to help make it happen.”
“And what are we to do?”
“We have a KinTalk in thirty in storage room Five. Spread the news. I need to think,” Wren answered.
After the two left, Wren sank into a chair and ran her hands over her coils. Assuming Fergus and MacMichaels had indeed banded together with the Martials, there was a good chance they would succeed in eradicating her Kin. Wren would admit her fears only to herself. And only allow the luxury of fear to fill her just this one time.
If it was only her or even a handful of others, they could easily slip through the cracks. But her tribe numbered nearly five hundred now. And it was growing.
“Should have stopped accepting Kin at three hundred,” she mumbled to herself. It would have been wiser, but she couldn’t. When they came begging, she saw the beaten, starved child she had once been in every alone and desperate face. Felt their hopelessness.
And knowing she was the last resort for many, she agreed and admitted them, even though it meant she was adding burdens for those Folk still healthy and strong enough to work.
With a sigh, Wren went over to her basin, poured in a little water from the pitcher, and, scooping it up with both hands, splashed her face and patted more cool, refreshing water on back of her neck. After blotting with a towel, she looked deeply into the wide grey eyes reflected back at her from the cracked mirror hanging above the basin.
“They’re your Kin,” she told herself. “You take care of them.”
In the storage cellar, it was noisy, hot, and smelled like five hundred unwashed bodies. Because she was so small, it took a few moments for her Kin to realize Wren had arrived. Bracing herself on Flick’s broad shoulder, she hopped lightly up onto a crate filled with dried fruits one of her runners had nabbed that very day. Wishing she’d worn something brighter and more eye-catching than her usual assassin greys, she raised her arms and waited for the crowd to notice her and calm down. When it was quiet, she spoke.
“There’s to be a Culling in a month. We must make preparations,” she announced, “and give the Martials a nice selection.”
Her proclamation was greeted with more groans than cheers, which spoke volumes about the demographics of her Kin.
“But I thought Cullings were good things,” a young boy said. “I know I’ve got some knack in me.”
“If you’ve got knack, or a good strong back, or something else of value to the Martials and the UpperUppers, yeah, Cullings are good things,” Wren answered. “It’s the others I’m worried about. If we don’t protect our own, we’ll lose them.”
“It’s not fair!” someone groused. “Just because we’re old or sick.”
“Or crippled, or slow, or a baby, for futing sake!” someone else added.
The crowd murmured in agreement.
“We all know that,” Wren said, feeling her face flush with anger. “But Sub-City is crowded, and the UpperUppers have only one way of dealing with those who can’t be of service to them. And complaining won’t save a single soul. It’s time to be proactive and make our plans. We’ve all experienced the Culls. Since I’ve been your KinLord, we’ve survived five of them with very little loss of life. And after each one, there were more of us remaining. Why? Because we’re smart, and we’ve got closed mouths, and we’ve got our tunnels, and we know how to hide.”
She paused, suddenly feeling drained as she strove to boost the hopes of her KinFolk. “And we also give the Martials the best knackers, so the first thing we do is test you all. And the next thing we do is prepare the others to disappear for a good, long hide. A hide for as long as it takes.”
She scanned the crowd, searching for her Grainer. She spied him standing toward the back, an arm casually draped over each of his boys.
“Skip!” she called over the crowd’s hum. “Send your runners out tonight. It’s time to stock up for a three-week hide.”
Skip raised his burly arm, acknowledging he’d heard.
Toward the front of the crowd stood lean and rangy Spider, with his hip cocked and arms folded. Wren locked eyes with him. With a nod, he disappeared into the crowd. She’d find him in her rooms when she returned.
After Flick and Mouse, Wren trusted Spider the most. A few years after she’d taken over the Kin, he’d appeared, requesting an audience. In his blunt manner, he told her he was from Above, a born and raised UpperUpper, and a student at the university with an inconvenient conscience. In exchange for asylum, he offered her his knowledge of how the UpperUpper’s governing bodies functioned. He explained he had led a group of protestors during the last Culling. The situation had turned violent, Spider killed a man, and now, despite his family’s high rank, there was a price on his head.
Their relationship had begun on rather shaky ground. Neither could fully trust the other. The reward for Spider’s capture would have earned Wren several favors. And how could Wren be sure Spider hadn’t come solely to learn her methods and worm his way in behind her defenses?
Wren took it upon herself to go Above to see what she could discover about the young, unassuming, blunt man. It took her longer than she would have expected to learn Spider’s real name. And when she did, she’d been shocked to learn how much he had sacrificed for his ideals As soon as she was convinced of his authenticity, she relaxed and began using his knowledge to learn everything she could about how an UpperUpper operated on Spur, the governing hub of the Ring.
Before Spider, all Wren’s focus had been on survival and the dynamics between the Above and Sub-City. After Spider, Wren’s focus expanded to encompass the Ring.
During her walk to Above earlier that day, Wren had decided to use Tunnel One as the place to hide during the Culling. However, Mouse’s information changed her mind.
“We will fix the hide in Tunnel Two,” she announced.
“Tunnel Two’s a swamp! What’s the matter with One, or even Three?” a swarthy man with a pocked face asked.
A chorus of agreement followed.
Wren glared until the noise died down. It didn’t take but a moment.
“Since we know Two is a swamp, we can prepare for it,” she stated.
“But why Two?” the swarthy man asked again.
“Because I say, Weasel,” Wren snapped, “and if you don’t wish to chance the Cull, you will keep your thoughts to yourself.”
She glared again at Weasel until he dropped his gaze with a nod.
“Flick,” she said, “you stay with Cricket and assign tasks. Mouse and I will plan the knack tests.”
“Why Two?” Mouse quietly asked as they wended their way back to the compound.
“It’s the last place they’d think to look,” Wren answered. “Plus the tunnels are so twisty, it’s easy to escape and hide in them if we’re forced to flee.�
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“I’d best find my waxed canvas sacking, then,” Mouse said.
Wren grinned at her friend. “You’re lucky you have some. It’s going to be a rather cold hide this time. I’m not looking forward to it.”
“But it’s better than death.”
“It’s better than death,” Wren agreed.
They were silent while they threaded through the alleys and warren of shanties comprising her KinLand. Their shadows occasionally flickered while the bare bulbs strung to light their way did the same. Overhead, the cavernous Sub-City’s ceiling climbed high into the dark. It was always dark. And it always stank. The huge fans that filtered the air did little to relieve the stench.
When she was small, Wren had once climbed all the way up to one of the fans, which was at three times her height. She thought if she was the first person to breathe the incoming air, it would smell as sweet as she imagined the Above would smell. She was so very wrong. The air blowing into Sub-City was filled with dust and grit and oil. It gave a very different impression of what Above was like. On both counts, she had been wrong. The air of Above was somewhere in between.
“I’m making the move sooner, Mouse,” she told her friend abruptly.
“Are we in the Narrows?” Mouse asked, cautiously scanning their surroundings.
“I didn’t tally, but I’ll wager all the Kin are still back at Five. We’ll be fine if we talk softly.”
“The Culling’s got you jumpy?” Mouse asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“More like the banding together of the other KinLords,” Wren replied just as quietly.
“We don’t know for sure.”
“True, but it’s pointing that way.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Mouse mused. “So we’re moving to Above, then?”
Wren nodded. “Might as well think on it. Tomorrow I’ll take you and Flick to the abandoned square with the fountain. You two memorize the route. It’s a twisty one, but you can get to it from either Two or Five. If anything goes wrong, that’s where I want you to take the others.”
Mouse halted and peered at Wren. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Wren shrugged. “Caution First, is all. Whatever happens during this Culling, Mouse, to my way of thinking, the leaders will be a nice, juicy target. There are three of us. If we all know a way out to Above, it’s more likely some of us can make it there.”
“What if all of this is in your head, Wren? What if it’s not as bad as you think?”
“My friend Mouse,” Wren said. “You’re the one who found out a bargain had been struck. How can you not believe it won’t be as bad as I think?”
Mouse shrugged. “I’ll believe whatever I find out to be truth. Until then, I will keep an open mind.”
Wren threw her arm around her friend as they began walking again. “And that is why I’m the KinLord and you are the best eyes-slash-assassin I’ve got. We’ll know more tomorrow. For now, let’s organize the testing.
“Have you ever heard of two KinLords making an agreement with the Martials?” Wren asked Spider while she shrugged out of her jacket. She draped it over her chair and took a seat facing him.
Spider had made himself at home in her room, where he lounged on the small couch she had in a corner of her sitting room. His arm was slung over the back and he slouched against a cushion, one leg crossed over his knee. His thin, angular face gave nothing away as he shook his head in response. “I used to have a friend whose father was on the Board of Culls. He told me they were open to whatever would keep the Scofflaws thinned out. So I wouldn’t be surprised,” he paused, looking at Wren as she shifted to sit beside him. “I told you we call KinFolk ‘Scofflaws’ so you needn’t look so baffled.”
“I’m not baffled, Spider,” Wren answered, feeling her face flush. “I was trying to imagine someone other than a Martial coming to Sub-City for negotiations if they didn’t need to. I suspect Fergus or MacMichaels approached them. They hate my tribe that much?”
Spider patted her on the shoulder, ignoring her warning glance. “I don’t think they hate your Kin, Wren. I think they hate you. Your clan is always increasing. What do you think is happening to theirs?”
Wren shifted very slightly so Spider couldn’t touch her again and said, “Good point.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“What you heard at the KinTalk. Pick the knackers and others the Martials will want to recruit. The rest will go into a hide. We’re starting tomorrow. There are some we know wouldn’t live through this Cull, so they’ll be the first to prepare.” She glanced at him. “And since you are technically not here, you will go with them.”
Spider bowed his head. “Thank you. It’s hard not to be afraid at times.”
“Too true,” Wren answered, her thoughts flickering back to earlier that day, when she had been alone. “But fear is a luxury in Sub-City.”
Wren fell silent, long enough for Spider to ask if he should leave.
“Oh, sorry, Spider,” Wren smiled, tugging on a coil. “There’s more thinking and planning to be done. Please close the door on your way out, and tell Flick when he’s back I want to see him.”
She didn’t hear him leave.
Chapter 3
Returning, Reawakening
“Ma’am?” Genji asked.
Aiko held up her hand, too focused to speak. Her knack had found their next jump, and she needed all her concentration to guide their vessel to the wormhole’s opening. Once there, she locked the coordinates and the ship hovered, poised.
“You were saying, Genji?” Aiko asked, swiveling her pilot’s chair to face him.
“There is something I’d like to show you, Captain.”
“Can it wait until we’re through the jump?”
Genji shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Good,” she replied, swiveling back to face the view port. “Why don’t you sit and buckle in? She’s a straight shot, short, and should be no trouble. And,” she couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice, “when we get through, we should only be a couple of months from home. It’s been a long time.”
As Genji sat and strapped himself into a chair, Aiko flicked the com switch and announced the jump to the rest of the crew. She glanced sideways at Genji. “Ready?” At his nod, she asked, “Care to do the honors?”
Genji grinned and gave the countdown over the ship’s com system.
At one, Aiko slowly guided her ship into the chaos of the wormhole. When the current caught them, she smiled, cut the engine power, and leaned back to enjoy the show. Once the coordinates were locked in, she trusted the ship’s navigation system more than her own skills to keep them on track. During training she had actually flown through a wormhole unaided, and it had taken all her concentration and skill to get out alive on the other side. But she had done it. And sworn she’d never do it without Nav again.
The ship funneled through and out into a universe where the star systems were much more familiar. With a sigh, Aiko silently greeted them as old friends. She turned to Genji with a grin. “Okay. That was the last jump for this trip. In…” she studied her data screen, “…exactly two and a half months’ time, you’ll find me at the port bar getting drunk on my ass.”
Genji snorted and unstrapped from his seat.
Aiko unbuckled her harness, stood, and stretched before she sat down again to set the coordinates for Spur. “Let me radio ahead to the Colonizers and announce our arrival date, and then I’m all yours,” she told him.
“Fine,” he said.
Genji stood by the door to the bridge and watched while Aiko sent her message. I’m all yours, she’d told him. He wished. They’d been on many missions together over the years. She had never once noticed him as a man. He was simply Genji. Or Genj. Still wasn’t how he wanted to be known by her.
He watched her stand and turn with catlike grace, her uniform hugging her curves. Before she could catch him, he switched his gaze to the view.
“I think I s
ee our sun,” he said pointing to a star in the distance.
“Close, Genj. Just a little more to the south, and you should see her. Use those three stars round ’bout two o’clock, there,” she pointed, lightly touching his shoulder with her other hand. “The ones in an inverted triangle? See them?”
Genji nodded.
“Good, now just use the point and track due south. That bright star about two fingers’ width down is Uras.”
“I see it!” Genji smiled. “Thanks, ma’am. I’ve never been much of a star gazer.”
“You don’t need to be, Genji. You’re the best research scientist and med tech I know. You keep reading the data, and I’ll keep reading the stars.”
He saw Aiko realize she was touching him right before she dropped her arm and ducked her head, hiding her expression. “So what did you want me to see?”
Genji cleared his throat. “If you’ll follow me to Sick Bay, ma’am. I do believe I will be forced to alter my report in the science journal.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s best if I just show you, ma’am.”
Curious, Aiko silently walked beside Genji down to the second deck, where Sick Bay was housed toward the center of their craft.
The door hissed open and Genji led the way into the bay and down a corridor, where he stopped in front of the familiar draped figure of the Champion of Entean. For nearly ten months, the Champion’s body had been canistered in a pod, kept off to the side and out of the way. It had become such a permanent fixture, Aiko had scarcely noticed it on the few occasions she’d made a trip to the bay.
She glanced at Genji. “So?”
His eyes were fastened on the body. “Don’t you see anything?”
She followed his gaze, and after a few moments noticed the barest of movements, an extremely slow inbreath followed by an equally slow outbreath.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she breathed. “I may get to witness a showdown with the Ring Colonizers after all.”
Genji laughed. “Couldn’t believe my eyes. Since I was bored, I thought to dissect the body and preserve the organs for study.” He glanced at her. “You can tell a great deal about a culture from what they eat. Anyway,” he continued, “I came down here to prepare him and,” he swept his hand in front of them, “found this.”