Chapter 10 - The Court of Miracles
Yash Gonjir glanced to the clock on his desk. The flickering, holographic numbers told him he had about thirty minutes left of his shift, and it was proving to be the longest thirty minutes of the day. Yash didn't have a hard job, per se; vehicles that docked outside of the Court were funneled into a scattering of entrances positioned around the asteroid, but none of them were typically ever given a vigorous inspection.
Yeah, half of the cargo brought in was in some dubious state of legality, and of course the captains and their crews were almost always lying about their intentions underneath their polite smiles. It was kind of the point. Still, some token effort had to be made in case some problem spawned in the heart of the Court caused wider trouble in the Queen's empire. This way, at least the powers that ran the Court could pretend their hands were clean.
Day in, day out, it was nod, go over the very basics of inspection, and wave the next crowd of people through. So, Yash couldn't have been blamed for assuming that this workday would end like the rest, and he could get out of the offices on time. He nearly made it through the last half-hour without incident.
And then, fifteen minutes before his shift was set to end, he found himself staring face-to-face with at Eliksni.
Yash ran his hand slowly down his face. His voice, when he spoke, was tired and half-muffled by his palm. "And you want to bring him in here why, exactly?"
"Because," the Awoken woman said patiently, "he's traveling with us."
She was the only one of the four of them had had spoken yet, and almost certainly the only person who would have any kind of familiarity with this place. Her white hair was relatively short, cut into a utilitarian bob, framing a pleasant face. Yash wasn't fooled by that innocuous look, though; it was easy to see, even under her armored jacket, that she was packing a fair amount of muscle.
The tallest of the three—who was very tall indeed—was an Exo and, if Yash was any judge, a Guardian. He had a slim, almost elegant build, well-suited for the flowing lines of his elaborate raiment. He silently watched the proceedings with a passive expression on his dark-plated face, but his eyes were sharp, and flickering. Warlock, Yash thought, nobody else would go traveling in robes like that.
The fellow dressed in an orange Hunter's cloak was also very obviously a Guardian, but Yash couldn't determine his species, as he was wearing a helmet. He was the shortest of the group, stocky and sturdily built, with absolutely none of the patient grace his Warlock companion possessed. He seemed to be trying to look at everything at once.
And then, of course, there was the source of his frustration: an Eliksni, standing in the hunched-over and vaguely submissive posture of a Dreg. Yash was no expert on Eliksni physiology, but he thought that this fellow, with his battered armor and threadbare clothes, must have been a particularly unimpressive example of his species, even among other Dregs.
"Is he your bounty?" Yash asked, looking back to the woman.
"No."
"Is he someone else's bounty?"
"No."
"Is he wanted in any way? Not just by the Reef. The mercs, the blocs, anyone?"
The woman shook her head. "No."
Yash considered this. He turned his attention to the Dreg and said, "This is your fair warning. If there is a bounty on you, then you're on your own in there, and the Court will eat you alive. These zombies—" He gestured to the Guardians. "—are not gonna be enough to keep them off you. You get it?"
"I understand," the Dreg rasped.
"Zombies?" The Warlock murmured, glancing to the other Guardian.
"Right. Excellent. I'm glad we all understand one another," the woman continued, "Look, I get being jumpy, what with the last rebellion, but you and I both know it's not like he's the only Eliksni to come through here."
"Not so much these days," Yash replied. Even so... it was true enough. "Fine, fine. You're going to have to sign a report, though."
Walker-17 thought he'd been prepared, but he was stunned by what he walked into.
The Court of Miracles was, for all intents and purposes, a single enormous settlement; the hollowed-out space in the asteroid wasn't quite large enough for a full-scale colony, but nowhere near small enough to be considered an outpost. In the hundreds of years since the Collapse, the drifters who'd found themselves on 15 Eunomia had built upon the structures of the interior, and then built upon those structures, and then, when they needed yet more space, scraped away at the inner walls of the asteroid until they had one huge, hollow cavern.
More than anything else, the Court was colorful. It was a riot of neon. Flashes of light beckoned from every window and sign, flickered through the distant windows of what looked like apartment blocks, and shone in the streets. Far above them, beyond the collective glow of the Court, the ceiling vaulted away, somewhere too high to see, swallowed in shadow.
The street they entered on was stone, but elsewhere in the Court, they could see walkways that had been made from catwalks and great sheets of metal. The buildings themselves were unlike anything Walker-17 had seen in the City. He saw a dwelling carved into the rock itself. He saw what looked like one long, low warehouse made entirely of welded-together sections of metal. The smell of cooking food drifted out from what looked like a restaurant made from the gutted remains of a ship.
Untidy snarls of cable could be seen strung from structure to structure, sometimes coiling tightly along the walls or draped overhead, sometimes daisy-chained as a street's worth of inhabitants siphoned power off one another. There was a general cobbled-together feeling that permeated the Court, but it was on a massive scale, fostered by the passing of time.
Despite the crowding of the buildings and considerable differences in elevation throughout parts of the Court, there had been a few half-hearted attempts at order. Walker-17 was surprised by how close the street they were walking down came to just another thoroughfare; storefronts of wildly varying shapes marched along either side of them. Smoke drifted from a bar on the corner. He and the group stepped side to let someone on a small hovering vehicle pass. It didn't feel like a proper city to Walker-17, but it didn't feel any less oddly impressive for it.
"This," Coyote-3 finally said, "is something else. I can't even see where it ends!"
"it's a big enough place," Virna replied with a little grin. Walker-17 thought he could sense a hint of pride in her voice. Aside from the slight hiccup in customs, entering the Court of Miracles hadn't proven to be too much of a hassle. Her crow had almost immediately winged off into the neon jungle around them. It was probably watching them from somewhere, but she couldn't see it.
"I never knew there were settlements this large out here," Walker-17 said.
"The asteroid itself is hundreds of kilometers long, so there's still room to build. And this isn't even nearly the largest asteroid in the belt." Virna paused. "You know, you're being very... obvious, Coyote. About this being your first time here."
"Well, it's not like it isn't true."
"Someone might peg you as an easy mark, if you come off too much like a tourist," Virna warned.
Coyote-3 simulated a snort. "What're they gonna do? Mug me? Killing me isn't going to put me down for more than a few seconds."
"Fair enough," she conceded. "You are a zombie."
"All right," Matthias interjected, spinning to faced them and floating in front of them as they walked. "So, the good news is that I have a general idea of where we should be going. The bad news is that I don't... have an exact location. The facility went dark sometime shortly before we arrived."
"The patron saint of emergency power left us," Coyote-3 said mournfully.
"Either it exhausted what reserves it had, or someone shut it off. So, we're going to have to do a little bit of walking. Sorry." Matthias bobbed apologetically.
"It's all right, Matthias. So far, the only competition we might have is the Kings, who aren't going to be able to get into the station," Virna said. "We can afford to take this slowly and carefully. And we will need to be careful." She waved for Matthias to join her, and he zipped up to her side.
For a moment they all walked in silence. Walker-17, Evoksis, and Coyote-3 were still taking it all in. "You know, this all seems so oddly familiar," Coyote-3 said, after a moment, "but I think it's just because it reminds me of some parts of the City. Just more..." He trailed off, and shrugged. "Just more, really."
"It is like nothing I've ever seen," Evoksis said softly. Walker-17 glanced his way. Evoksis was standing up a little straighter, his eyes wide and bright, looking around with as much enthusiasm as Coyote-3. "The places on Venus—the cities, the academy—they are like... bones. Bones, and this is the animal."
Despite himself, Walker-17 smiled. "You're more or less right." He returned his attention to the chaos of life and light around them. "Those are all ruins. This place is alive." Evoksis merely nodded in silent agreement.
Virna couldn't help but be amused at the sight of her companions' obvious ogling. She couldn't blame them. The Court of Miracles was a place intimately familiar to her, but she could see how it would be a lot to take in for someone who wasn't used to it. It was a complicated mess of a place, and what they were seeing was only the surface.
She got her chance to point it out when Evoksis glanced down as they walked over a section of grating. He paused, peering. "That," Virna said, "is the undercity."
What had caught his eye was the sight of dim lights and distant movement far, far below his feet. The group crouched, getting a better view of what lay beneath them: they could make out dim structures, criss-crossing metal walkways, and vast subterranean bridges. "The only place to build," Walker-17 murmured, "was up."
"You got it." She nodded at him, and the group collectively rose to its feet again. "It's deeper in some places than others. The rich and the wealthy live in the shallowest parts of the Court. Knowing there's nothing but rock beneath your feet is a luxury, here."
"This way," Matthias said, gliding ahead. They group followed, and Virna trailed behind, frowning and looking up at one of the patched-together walls. Walker-17 slowed and looked back to her. "What's wrong?"
"Mm? Just taking notes." She nodded. "See that red tag, there? Painted on the metal? This is Emperor turf. Not the worst of the worst when it comes to dealing with criminal networks, but not the best, either. Ideally," she went on, as he started to walk again, "we wanna do this without any criminal entanglement whatsoever. But something tells me we're not going to be that lucky."
"If we can handle the Vex, and the Taken, we can handle some criminals," Coyote-3 said.
"More than likely. But we're on their home ground, and they more likely than not have something we need. We're going to need a little more finesse than bulling ahead," Virna replied.
They moved deeper and deeper, passing small market districts, an industrial zone, and, briefly, a residential block. Finally, Matthias drew to a halt. "This is as close as I can get to where the signal was..." He floated closer to the ground, intermittently activating his scanner, until he drew to a halt at the intersection of two narrow alleyways. "I think it's under here."
They were standing at the back entrance of a store. There was a simple storm-shelter style door leading to a basement level (locked of course), a dumpster, and a set of double doors that said "No Entry." Virna nodded for them to follow her, and she took the long way around several other buildings to approach the storefront.
"A pawn shop?" Walker-17's voice was unsure. "Why would a pawn shop have any part of a research facility inside?"
"It's probably below," Virna said, "I'm betting the undercity's pretty deep, here. We've been moving steadily uphill since we left the industrial zone." She motioned for them to walk with her, and they continued down the street. "If we're lucky, whatever's left of the facility is accessible through there. If we're not... then we might have to try and access it through the shop."
"I'm guessing we're not going to be able to just ask nicely?" Coyote-3 tilted his head.
"Almost certainly not. But, we should rule out option number one first." Virna turned in place to look back at all three of them. "Let's go to ground, gentlemen."
The undercity was darker even than the surface of the Court. It hadn't been difficult to access; Virna had simply casually popped open one of the hatches to a maintenance tunnel and taken a ladder straight down. It didn't have the sense of vastness that Coyote-3 had been expecting: it was nothing like the chasms and corridors of the Hive's territory under the moon.
The only source of illumination came from whatever filtered in from the street, or from the dim ambient light of the dwellings squirreled away in the undercity. "It's like the Reef," Evoksis said once, briefly.
Virna nodded. "Yeah, I can see that. You build where you can, with what you can. All right! Matthias, lead the way."
Determining the general direction of the lost facility wasn't difficult, but getting to it in a direct manner was. There was no one, cohesive floor system in the undercity. The group found themselves going up and down hanging stairwells, occasionally tacking through tunnels of rock, and endlessly backtracking.
When they finally drew up to the location needed, Virna paused and laid her hand on the smooth, concrete wall in front of them. "It's pretty shallow here, actually. Looks like there's not much beneath this. Might even be part of the facility itself. We might be in luck after all, you guys."
They weren't. No matter which angle they approached the concrete structure from, there were absolutely no entrances. After nearly half an hour of exploring the immediately area and searching every inch of the concrete they could, they were forced to concede. It seemed that they were looking at a building that was only accessible from the top, possibly even the walls of a cellar.
Coyote-3 knocked on the concrete ruefully. If there'd been an old door, he might have had some luck, but you couldn't hack or pick your way through concrete.
"So, what now?" Walker-17 asked, "We ask our pawnbroker friend to use his basement?"
Virna shook her head and began to lead them back to the surface. "Getting into his basement's almost certainly going to be what we need to do, but there's no point in asking. Even if this guy happens to be the nicest pawnbroker in the entire Court, he'll almost certainly extort us for access to the basement—and even then, he might hide anything he thinks is valuable before he'll let us in."
Walker-17 nodded slowly. "Yes... I suppose you're right."
Coyote-3 had only half-thought that Walker-17 was being serious, but he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised. He couldn't necessarily say his Warlock companion was green—after all, he'd been at this longer than Coyote-3 had—but he was a little more inclined to trust in the virtue of good intentions and common sense. Adorable, he thought to himself, if a little misguided.
"And he's just as likely to refuse," Virna added with a sigh, "and go do some investigating of his own. This is pretty much the only lead we've got, so we can't afford to lose it."
"It makes sense," Coyote-3 said with a shrug. "All things considered, breaking into the basement and getting what we can out of there is honestly a lot simpler than trying to negotiate with the guy, anyway. Probably faster, too."
"I have to agree," Virna replied. "Let's see let's see... the Emperors specialize in drug distribution. Especially exotics. They'll have stuff for just about any clientele. Probably even you," she added, with a rueful smirk down at Evoksis.
He blinked all four eyes. "Why Eliksni?"
"Well, when our Queen took control of the Wolves, they added themselves to the official list of potential customers—and before that, they were probably on the unofficial list for a long time. Just because someone's an enemy of your entire species doesn't mean someone isn't willing to profit off them."
"Makes sense, in a mercenary kind of way," Coyote-3 conceded.
"Now," Virna went on, "the best way to handle it would be to send someone in to distract him up front while someone else goes around back. You can probably keep him busy if you act like you're trying to pawn or sell something. That pawn shop was also the biggest store on the street, not counting the stir-fry place, and I'm willing to bet good Glimmer than whoever's keeping shop has some behind-the-counter merchandise. That might be a useful angle to try."
"I'd offer to do it," Coyote-3 said, "but I think an Exo trying to buy drugs would probably be pretty suspicious."
Virna stared blankly back at him. "Why?"
"Because..." Coyote-3 stared back. "I'm a robot."
"Exo," Walker-17 corrected with a sigh.
"I'm mechanical, is the point."
Virna cocked a brow. "Yeah, and...?"
"We can't take drugs. Or, I mean—" He paused, looking questioningly to Walker-17 for a moment, before returning his attention to Virna. "Can we?"
She gave a little laugh. "Yeah. There are drugs that work on Exo; they've been around probably almost as long as Exo themselves. Why wouldn't there be? You can drink, can't you?"
"Well, yeah..." Coyote-3 trailed off.
"If there's one thing I've learned over the years," Virna said, her tone warm and amused, "I seem to recall having a conversation with someone about how people are always going to be people, no matter where you go. And, robotic body or not, a lot of the times people are going to want to do the same things they used to. Eat, if they can. Drink. And indulge in a little chemical recreation, among other things."
Coyote-3's mind was filled with questions. Food? Chemical recreation? Other things? Well, I guess I won't have any shortage of things to ask him, will I? might as well try it. For education's sake."
There was a flash of light, and quite suddenly, Flicker appeared, floating out of Coyote's chest. "I can go with you, Virna. I'm pretty good at retrieving data in large quantities—and If I'm down there with you, and Coyote's up front, he'll be able to let me know if anything's going wrong."
"Burglary's a creative use for a neural link," Virna replied in dry amusement.
"Hey, now, we're not stealing anything. Copying data isn't a crime. So it's not burglary," Coyote-3 pointed out, "it's breaking and entering."
The group had reached their ladder to the surface. Virna paused by it, tapping her chin. "Y'know," she said, "it just might work. C'mon, let's go up and hammer out the details."
The plan didn't change all that much from the start. Virna led them across the Court, well out of Emperor territory, to a bar that was obviously familiar to her. A sign was bolted above the entrance. "Forge in the Wall," Coyote-3 murmured. "I'm guessing they don't mean our Wall."
"It's an outdated term for the asteroid belt," Flicker said, angling himself up to properly stare. "I don't think anyone uses it anymore." Coyote-3 shrugged and looked to Virna, who led them inside. Naturally, they cut an odd quartet. The barkeep stared at Evoksis for a moment, as did the few patrons in attendance, but everyone soon went back about their business.
As they passed the bar on their way to a table, the bartender stopped staring and nodded to them. "I don't have a lot, but if you've got the Glimmer, I've got some exotic liquor left."
"He means for Eliksni," Virna explained as they seated themselves. The interior of the bar almost felt like any other one might find in the Court. A glance out of the window showed a street that looked almost like any other avenue at night.
"So, I go in front," Coyote-3 began, "dazzle this fellow with my wit and innate likeability—" Evoksis gave a gurgling huff from the other side of the table, but Coyote-3 went on, undeterred, "and all the while you and Flicker are rummaging around in his basement, looking to see if you can find either an entrance to the remains of the facility, or the place itself."
"More or less," Virna agreed with a nod.
"Now, Matthias said that the... the computer system, or console, or whatever-it-was that we'd gotten the signal from had run out of power. So we might need to neither reconnect the power supply and try to download from there, or just take the internal memory components out entirely."
"The second is probably more likely," Virna said, putting her chin in her hand. "Which will take us a lot longer. So, be ready to improvise, Coyote."
He gave her a thumbs-up. "Of course. Thinking on your feet is what being a Hunter is all about."
An hour later found him stepping through the doors of the Reliable Pawn and Curio. If he'd been asked, Coyote-3 wouldn't have been able to say exactly what he'd thought the shopkeeper would look like, but he'd still formed vague expectations in the back of his mind. The fellow behind the counter seemed somehow out of place. There was something in the gaunt, wiry musculature of his frame that seemed to suggest an endless sense of movement that was at odds with long hours confined behind a counter.
The shopkeeper glanced up and nodded briefly before returning his attention to a small screen playing what looked like a movie. He wore no name-tag, and said nothing, at first. Coyote-3 nodded back, and strolled casually over to one of the walls. His intention was to put on a show of browsing, but he very soon forgot the "show" aspect of it all and started to examine the various wared scattered throughout the shop with interest.
The shelves were cluttered with the minutiae of everyday life in space: tubes of silicon sealant warred for space with elegant glassware. Sturdy-looking mechanical components were arranged along the wall, and to the immediate left of them was a row of carefully-arranged, well-thumbed paperback books. There were a variety of items in glass cases that looked mundane, but the extra security immediately drew Coyote-3's interest. The most precious and prominently displayed of these treasures were the plants that marched along the back wall in a neat row.
This was a place on which the flotsam and jetsam of the Court of Miracles washed ashore, and from it, Coyote-3 began to get the vaguest picture of what it must be like to live out here. It was an interesting clash of the hard realities of maintaining life in the cold grip of space and the simple day-to-day things that people did to keep themselves happy. It wasn't, as a matter of fact, very different from the way he currently lived his life, out of his ship.
"Looking for anythin' in particular?" The shopkeeper finally asked. His voice was low and smooth, startlingly more pleasing to the ear than Coyote-3 had expected out of such a scruffy fellow.
That's right. I have a job to do, here. "Well," he said, strolling over, "I'm looking for something... over-the-counter."
The shopkeeper tilted his head very slightly. "Yeah? You talkin' things, or whatcha'd call consumables?"
"The latter." Coyote-3 leaned with one elbow on the countertop, casually.
"You're not from around here, are you, pal?"
"What gave it away? My accent?"
The shopkeeper gave a gruff noise that might have been a chuckle. "Well if you got the Glimmer, I'm not about to stand in the way of you spendin' it. You lookin' for some Haze? Fresh shipment in. Good, clean stuff, from the Red Door District."
Virna had given Coyote-3 a quick run-down of the sorts of drugs he might expect to be able to pick up in Emperor territory, and which ones were compatible for humans, Exo, and Awoken. "'Fraid Haze won't do me a bit of good. I'm an Exo."
The shopkeeper smirked and nodded. He's testing me. You little swindler. Coyote-3 found himself charmed rather than annoyed. It was almost a shame that he was here running a hustle himself. This fellow looked like he might have some interesting stories to tell. "But you knew that, didn't you?" Coyote-3 asked.
"I thought maybe. Couldn't tell on account of that—" he nodded towards Coyote-3's helmet. "which you need to lose, by the way." Coyote-3 hesitated for a moment, and the sharp-eyed shopkeeper noticed. A little of the easy humor faded from his face, and his eyes narrowed very slightly. "Makes me nervous to deal with someone whose face I can't see."
Coyote-3 couldn't afford to screw this up. "It's not much a face, I'm afraid, but all right, all right. You win." He reached up and popped the seals on his helmet, carefully taking it off and setting it on the counter. Shock flooded the shopkeeper's face, scything away all traces of suspicion for the moment. "Nice poker face," Coyote-3 said dryly.
To his credit, the shopkeeper seemed a little chagrined. "Yeah, well." After a moment, he added, "Jeez. No wonder, pal. All right, all right. Let's talk."
Virna and Flicker had not suffered any sort of idle distractions, be it in the way of merchandise or merchants. Flicker had made quick work of the lock on the door in back, and they carefully descended a short flight of stairs.
"Huh," Flicker whispered once they'd arrived, "This... isn't what I expected, honestly."
The basement of the shop was cluttered shelves and boxes of wares, as might be expected, but a good portion of it had been converted into a hydroponic lab. Rows of bright green plants in various stages of growth could be seen in carefully-attended racks under the buzzing glare of a fluorescent light. Virna carefully padded up to them.
"What're they for?" the Ghost whispered.
"Oxygen," she explained simply, "and maybe décor."
"Oh." Flicker hovered a little closer to them, curious. Neither Flicker nor Matthias had avoided Virna so far, but this was probably the closest she'd ever gotten to either of the Ghosts, and certainly the most one-on-one time she'd ever had with one. "All right. Let's see..." He tore his attention away from the plants and activated his scanner, raking it over the walls and the floor.
"How's Coyote doing?" Virna asked softly.
"So far, so good," Flicker said, ducking under what appeared to be some kind of water purifier, poking among the thick coils of wires and pipes. "Mostly amusement and cheer on his end. Apparently," he swiveled back to regard Virna, "the shopkeeper is rather charming."
She cocked a brow, grinning. "You can gather that much from his thoughts?"
"Oh, yes." Flicker turned away, activating his scanner again. Before Virna could question further, he jerked a few inches into the air. "I think—okay. Okay... it looks like he's using some of the old infrastructure to power this purifier. I'm going to need your help, here."
A bit of careful pushed and prodding through the wires revealed that the base of the purifier had been built into a console—one that had long since been gutted. Virna sighed. "Might be a bust," she whispered.
"Maybe... but it might not. Looks like the console didn't lose power. It just lost power to the specific parts that we were communicating with. There's got to be at least some of the data-retaining infrastructure left."
"I guess we'll just have to see if we can take that?"
"What—you mean the whole thing?" Flicker paused. "Well, I mean if it's just a data storage unit, then I guess... I don't see why we couldn't."
Virna nodded. "All right. Let's get to work."
Whatever sympathy Coyote's appearance had garnered from the shopkeeper was rapidly fading in the wake of his obvious indecision over what he wanted to purchase. This outsider could talk the talk, but the shopkeeper was having serious doubts as to whether he could walk the walk. Probably just some City-dweller out here looking for a cheap thrill, he thought to himself, and now he's not so sure he can commit to it.
It was a slow business day, so the shopkeeper wasn't too pressured to rush his Exo customer along, and allowed him to hem and haw. He'd even brought out some samples to show that he wasn't yanking the Exo's chain—which, honestly, wasn't that big of a deal here in the Court; having his recreational consumables out in the open when some stranger walked in might make them more likely to buy them, in his opinion.
His customer was trying to play it cool, but it was abundantly clear that this man had probably not so much as looked at half of the offerings on the counter. Or, at least, that was the way it seemed. It was a little more difficult to read this Exo than the others who came through the shop.
For obvious reasons.
"You want a recommendation? I'd go with Black Cloud."
The customer shook his head slowly. "Bit too much for me, that one."
"Well, if you're new to this, then I'd say try Medusa. Nothing fancy. Nice 'n cheap." The substance in question was contained in a simple spring-loaded injector, designed to dissipate through Exo fuel lines. "One pack is good for two hits."
The customer picked up the packet, turning it over carefully. It was a deceptively simple contraption, a glass capsule attached to the steel injection mechanism. As he turned it this way and that, thin wreaths of vapor writhed in the capsule, too dense to fully dissipate, coiling and uncoiling like a nest of serpents. "Hmm," he said, noncommittally.
The shopkeeper took a deep breath, and waited, watching him expectantly. Still, the Exo said nothing. "You here to window shop, or to buy, pal?"
His customer seemed to get the hint. He lowered the capsule and tilted his head. "How much?"
"Three hundred." The shopkeeper saw the customer wince. Yeah, no way this guy's actually going to buy anything. "You gonna pick somethin' up, or you gonna keep wasting my time?"
"Three hundred's just a little steep," the customer replied.
"Y'know what? I'll give you a discount. You can take it for half that if you go on and take a hit. Right here, right now." The shopkeeper leaned forward and placed his chin boredly in his palm. "Money first, of course." Again, the customer hesitated. "Yeah, thought so."
The Exo raised his chin slightly, a gesture that the shopkeeper recognized as something like defiance. "Fine. Deal." A moment later he was slapping a chit onto the counter. The shopkeeper checked the display, and then inserted it into his convertor. It was good for two hundred and fifty, just as he asked; as soon as he cycled the convertor, the chit would kickstart the synthesis of the little glowing cubes.
He turned back to see the customer holding the capsule somewhat uncertainly. He had his head tilted to one side, as if listening to something that only he could hear. Maybe he is, the shopkeeper thought, taking in the sight of the fellow's unfortunate visage one more time. "You need," he drawled, amused, "to put the needle in a joint. Inner elbow will usually do."
"I knew that," his customer replied quickly. In one smooth motion, he brought the capsule to his inner elbow and jammed the needle in. There was a kick, and a hiss—and then, a second later, another. "Oh. Oops." The Exo drew the capsule away. It was completely empty.
The shopkeeper laughed outright. He honestly hadn't expected the fellow to do it at all. "You didn't have to dump it, pal."
"Well. Y'know." The Exo gave an exaggeratedly nonchalant shrug. "Go big or go home, right?"
Back in the basement, Virna was carefully easing her fingers under the remains of what had once housed the console's data; it was a mess of metal, disconnected wires, and bared circuit boards. "It's still in there. Should I just pull all of them?"
"Hmm... no, no, some of these are connected to the power lines. We don't wanna trip something." Flicker had been carefully guiding her through the process, stopping to occasionally scan the innards of the purifier. Virna had no idea how the Ghosts did the things they did, but she couldn't argue with the results.
"Right. Just show me what to do next."
"Right. Okay, so, that cable runs... runs to... what the—I'm." Flicker's optic blinked rapidly. "Oh my goodness. What is he doing?"
"What's who doing?" Virna whispered urgently.
"I'm not… s-sure, I'm Sorry. One moment." The Ghost squinted his optic completely shut in concentration. "He's not hurt. He's… drunk? I can't exactly—something's spilling through the neural link, but it's. It's not like anything I've ever felt before."
Virna blinked. "Uh. Is. Is he… all right, at least?"
"Yes. Yes, he's all right. Better than all right. I'm sorry. I'm still with you, It's just—sort of difficult to concentrate. Right. Okay. He's still got the shopkeeper distracted." He activated is scanner once more, tracing the line of the cables that Virna needed to disconnect. "Traveler's Light, Coyote," he muttered, "what have you gotten yourself into?"
Coyote-3 was willing to admit that this wasn't perhaps the brightest idea he'd had.
If anyone asked him to defend himself, he'd probably just tell them the truth. He'd panicked a little. And, yes, okay, maybe there had been a little pride involved. ...or a lot of pride. Coyote-3 liked to think he had a way with people, and that he could fast-talk with the best of them, but he'd been out of his depth in that particular situation. At least it only cost me 250 Glimmer, he thought wryly to himself. "I'm not sure this stuff is working."
The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes slightly. "What exactly you tryin' to say?"
"Oh. Not—nothing against you, buddy. I think I might just have a resistance." The shopkeeper cocked a brow. Coyote-3's suspicions were founded on the fact that he was a Guardian, and as such, did not necessarily occupy the same rules of function that everyone else did. Honestly, he thought to himself, it's a little disappointing.
And on the heels of that statement, he felt a wave of numbness sweep through him that seemed to knock his brain out the back of his head. He came back to himself slowly, and when he did, he realized he'd been slowly and steadily leaning back from the counter. "I. Uh. Where was I?"
The shopkeeper returned his chin to his hand. "You were sayin' that you were resistant to this stuff."
"Right. Riiight." Coyote-3 leaned on the counter again, lowering his head conspiratorially. One by one, the tethers that connected him to the world seemed to be snapping, sending his thoughts off into a pleasant, warm cloud. "Y'know. I'm beginning to think... I might have been wrong."
"You don't say."
Virna lifted their prize free with slow, painstaking care. The harsh brilliance of the fluorescent lights certainly didn't do it any favors. "This... doesn't look good, Flicker." The entire assembly had been partially disassembled, with rust creeping along the casing and dry cracks spreading through the rubber insulation of the cables.
"I know," Flicker sighed, "but it's all we've got. I think I can get something off it. We'll have more time to..." he trailed off, and his optic began to flicker rapidly. "Goodness gracious, I—we need to go. If only so I can go save my stupid Guardian."
"Is he hurt?"
"No. No, I think he's the opposite of hurt," Flicker zipped towards the door. "Okay, I'll see if I can get him out. We're still rendezvousing at the café down the street?"
Virna nodded. "Good luck," she whispered.
"Thanks," Flicker muttered. "I might need it." He made sure she was out of the door and lost in the shadows before he concentrated on gathering his Guardian.
Flicker's attempt to reach Coyote-3 through the mental link didn't seem to penetrate whatever fog was currently clouding his mind, so he hauled it over to where Walker-17 and Evoksis were waiting, at the aforementioned café on the corner. It was a small, open-air affair, charming enough in its own ramshackle way. Evoksis was much too conspicuous to be allowed anywhere near the pawn shop. Walker-17 was nearly as conspicuous, albeit for entirely different reasons.
The Dreg was serenely reading a menu and ignoring the stares of the other patrons with an affected casual air that might have been amusing under different circumstances. Walker-17 was looking down the street, in the direction of some indistinct, muffled yelling. Virna hadn't caught up yet, but that wasn't surprising; she was taking a long, circuitous route to get to the meeting spot, just in case.
Walker-17 perked up when he saw Flicker drawing near, but the Ghost began to hurriedly speak before he could so much as offer a greeting. "Walker, I need your help," Flicker said, skidding to a stop mid-air. "I think Coyote's gotten himself into a bit of trouble."
Evoksis looked up sharply. "Oh, Lord," Walker-17 asked, sounding more worried than exasperated. "Is he all right?"
"He's fine, don't worry," Flicker assured him, "but... come on. I'll explain on the way."
By the time Walker-17 entered the store, the shopkeeper looked as if he didn't know whether to be more worried or exasperated. Coyote-3 was still chattering on, wedged into a corner between the wall and the countertop, very obviously trying to make it seem as if he were casually leaning instead of desperately trying not to fall over.
"And then," he said, "she pushed me off the Tower to my death. But I deserved it."
"Oh, dear. There you are." Walker-17 didn't have to pretend to sound concerned as he strode forward. "What the hell are you doing in this part of town?"
"You know." He nodded towards the shopkeeper. When nobody spoke, he repeated himself, more slowly. "You knooow."
"I'm afraid my companion seems to have… gotten himself into trouble." Walker-17 went on, reaching up to gently pry Coyote-3 off the wall. "He hasn't given you any trouble, has he?"
The shopkeeper opened his mouth as if to say something, and then paused. After a moment, he shrugged. "You know, I was gonna say yes, but he paid for what he got. Let me guess—first time here? Gave you the slip?"
Walker-17 nodded. "You got it."
"Yeah, I figured. Anyway, better go take him to lay down or somethin'." He paused and cocked a brow, sensing an opportunity for an easy sell. "Unless you want some for the road?"
"Yes!" Coyote-3 declared, holding up a single finger.
"Out of the question." Walker-17 pulled him away.
"No!" Coyote-3 amended.
"Suit yourself." The shopkeeper shrugged. If he had anything else to add, it was cut off by a sudden flash on his monitor screen, which he blinked at attentively. Walker-17 took this opportunity to drag Coyote-3 out of the shop. The Hunter was doing his level best to walk, but any semblance of a sense of balance was gone. He clung grimly to Walker-17's robes with one hand and his helmet with the other. Once they'd walked a good distance down the road, he said, in a harsh whisper, "Flicker said he did it."
"Yes, I heard. ...you don't actually have to whisper, Coyote."
"I'm not whispering," he whispered.
Walker-17 sighed. "I am never letting you talk me into something like this again. Or anything else. Ever."
"It worked, though." Coyote-3 stumbled along for a few more moments, made a show of clearing his throat, and pushed himself slightly more upright. "Walker. Walker," he said. "I'm gonna ask you a question, and I need you to answer me with 'yes.' All right?"
"Yes." A pause. "Was that the question?"
"No no no, It's a different one."
"Okay, well, what is it?"
"We're robots. Or close to it. We're mechanical, is the point. So." Coyote-3 pulled on the front of Walker's robes until he'd dragged the Warlock down to his eye level. "It should be like… it should be like flipping a switch. We can just turn this sort of thing off, right?"
Walker-17 stared at him. He cycled a long breath, and said, "Yes," while shaking his head back and forth in a very clear "no" gesture. Coyote-3 groaned and let his forehead clunk against Walker-17's chest. "Hey, I'm sure you'll be fine. Come on. Let's find a place for you to sit down."
As it were, they never made it back to the café. Walker-17 sent Virna their new coordinates, which were tucked away somewhere in the warren of small alleyways near the pawn shop.
She wanted to hurry, wondering what Coyote-3 could possibly have done to merit such concern from his Ghost, but she forced herself to be careful, taking every step to make sure she wasn't being followed. Though she doubted that the shopkeeper had seen or heard her, anyone who might have spotted her leaving the back of the store might think she'd snatched something worth stealing.
She needn't have worried. There seemed to be nobody with her in the alleyways, but Virna could hear the sounds of a growing, distant commotion. A fight? A riot? Whatever it was, she was beginning to think that it might be prudent to wrap things up and head back to the ship. Any kind of ruckus in this part of the Court could only mean trouble.
She finally found Walker-17 and Coyote-3 seated at a small table that had been set up next to what looked like an abandoned food cart. Walker-17 waved her over. Another figure was sitting across from him, lying with his chest flat on the table and one arm lazily slung up to grip the tabletop, as if he were afraid he'd fall or float away if he let go. Flicker was hovering anxiously over him.
It took her a moment to realize that the Exo slumped over the table was Coyote-3, primarily because he wasn't wearing his helmet. His plating was a dark, burnished red, so dark as to almost appear black except in the places where the dim light struck it. As far as paint-jobs went, it was actually quite fetching. Virna didn't linger on this facet of his appearance, however, because something more obvious about his head stole her attention. Virna's eyes widened in horror. "Holy—Coyote! What happened?" She rushed up to him immediately. "Did he attack you?"
"No, no, he's… it's fine, Virna," Flicker said, glancing up. "This isn't. Um. This isn't unusual."
There was an enormous gash in Coyote-3's head. It started somewhere around where his right temple would be on the right side and arced over his cranium to the back of his head. The metal around the wound was twisted, buckled, and streaked with scorch marks. There wasn't any sort of torn wiring sticking out, and Virna couldn't see anything that looked loose, but the enormity of the wound was viscerally unpleasant to look at. Such an injury on anyone organic would be undoubtedly fatal.
"He's right," Coyote-3 said, without raising his head. "Always like this."
Virna's brow furrowed in mingled confusion and concern. Flicker swiveled in mid-air to face her. "I can explain. When I first resurrected him," Flicker explained, quietly, "the wound in his head didn't heal. I hoped it might fix itself if I ever had to resurrect him again, but… it never did." His optic dimmed and he let it fall to stare at the tabletop. "I tried to fix it. I never could."
"Flicker. Flicker, it's all right," Coyote-3 said. He loosened his grip on the table long enough to pat the surface, and Flicker hovered closer with a sigh. "Doesn't even hurt."
"I'm not sure why I can't… fix him properly," Flicker went on. "But no matter how many times I bring him back, it's always still there."
It wasn't difficult to hear the guilt in Flicker's voice, or see it in his mannerisms. The Ghost obviously felt as if he'd failed his Guardian somehow. As if he were, in some way, defective, perhaps. Virna looked back to Coyote-3. Aside from the gaping wound in his head, there were other details about his construction that were singularly unusual.
For starters, he had no eyes, and there wasn't even anything to suggest he'd once possessed eye structures at all. His face also didn't have the same level of delicate and sophisticated articulation that Walker-17's did. It was largely rigid, with a jaw that barely moved as he spoke, more like a mask than anything else. Listening to the voice coming from such a static face was incongruous in a way that seemed inherently off somehow. It was clear that Walker-17 had been carefully and maybe even lovingly crafted. Coyote-3 looked like an earlier model of Exo, or perhaps even a protoype.
Coyote-3 thumped the table again, and Flicker finally joined him, letting his Guardian clumsily scoop the Ghost up against the crook of his shoulder. Between his less-than-elegant construction and the heavy damage to his helm, it was obvious why Coyote-3 preferred to wear his helmet at all times. "Don't beat yourself up about it," he mumbled.
"I won't, I won't," Flicker replied. He didn't have much of a face to read, but even so, Virna could tell that the little Ghost was lying.
Evoksis was the last to trickle in to the new rendezvous point. He slowed when he approached the table, eyes narrowed suspiciously at what appeared to be a stranger among them, but recognition dawned as he drew closer. Flicker morosely gave his explanation a second time, while Coyote-3 gently patted the tabletop. He seemed to think he was patting Flicker.
Evoksis gave a low, clicking huff. "This explains so much about you."
"Ha ha, you jerk."
"Is this why you wear your helmet?"
Virna and Walker-17 exchanged glances. Virna knew Walker-17 well enough by now to surmise he'd never directly asked Coyote-3 about the matter, and had instead quietly drawn his own conclusions. Neither of them knew exactly how he would react to such indelicate questioning.
Before they could intervene, Coyote-3 answered, "Yeah, mostly. But y'wanna—Evo." He pushed himself slowly up, into an almost-vertical position. "Imagine this. Right?"
All three of them stared at him. Coyote-3 stared back. "Imagine what?" Evoksis finally asked.
"You got a big damn hole in your head. You know what you don't want to happen? Things falling in that big damn hole."
"Cannot disagree," Evoksis said.
"There you go. Now, you know," Coyote-3 finished gravely.
Walker-17 cycled a sigh. "Okay... first of all, let's—can I see the satchel, Virna?" After she passed it over, Walker-17 held it up, and Matthias spirited it away. "Let's go find someplace to sit down and rest for a bit. You gonna be okay, Coyote?"
"Walker, I'm great." Suddenly, a muffled bang sounded from somewhere in the middle distance, echoing through the alleys. Even Coyote-3 seemed a hairsbreadth more lucid than he had a moment before. "Now, not so much," he muttered. "The hell was that?"
"I heard some kind of commotion on my way over here," Virna said slowly, "but it sounded far away."
"I, as well," Evoksis added. "Many people, yelling. Flocking to screens. Very excited."
"Good excited, or bad excited?" Virna asked.
"I could not tell."
"I heard it, too," Walker-17 said. "Back when I was waiting. I think I heard it start. It was just a few people yelling, then..." He trailed off. Evoksis's mention of a screen had reminded him of that moment in the pawn shop, where something on his monitor had drawn the shopkeep's attention away from them. "Whatever it is, I think there's some kind of station-wide PSA on it."
"Could be a riot?" Coyote-3 asked.
"Honestly, I don't know. But maybe... we should head back to the Thunder Child for now," Virna suggested.
"Good idea."
Walker-17 helped Coyote-3 up, and they moved through the warren of alleys. The noise was still too distant for them to discern any details, and the maze of buildings prevented them from seeing anything aside from the occasional distant flash.
"Something's not right," Virna muttered.
Evoksis was regarding the distant shadowy ceiling. "It does not feel threatening," he said slowly, "somehow. Is it brighter, do you think?"
She glanced to him with a wry smile. "No bad feelings?"
"No."
"Well, we're not too far from the docks by now," Walker-17 said. "Maybe we should—"
"Shh!" Coyote-3 said suddenly, lifting his head. Everyone obligingly went quiet. In the stillness, they could make out more details about the noise around them, and the parallels it had with the growing echoes underground. There was shouting, yes, but there was also...
"Song?" Evoksis asked.
"That's not shouting," Coyote-3 said slowly. "Those folks're cheering."
All four of the traveler exchanged puzzled glances. "Well," Virna finally said, slowly, "we are near the docks..."
In the end, they emerged from the alleyways into a main thoroughfare. The scene that greeted them when they emerged into the light was not at all what they expected.
As bright as the Court of Miracles had been when they first laid eyes on the Court, it was twice as brilliant now. Colorful holograms danced above the buildings in complicated designs amid furiously flashing neon signs, filling the air with something like an electric analogy of fireworks—and as they watched, in astonishment, there was the occasional burst of genuine fireworks, rare and sparkling and beautiful against the distant roof of the cave.
The Court itself seemed to be heaving in celebration. There were people in the streets, passing open bottles between each other, shouting and, in some cases, singing. A grizzled-looking Exo in armor was sitting on a bench next to an equally-grizzled Awoken soldier who was weeping into his hands. Ragged banners in the Queen's colors had been rolled out of windows, and were being, in some cases, enthusiastically flapped about by their owners for lack of a breeze.
Nobody knew what to say. They slowly walked out onto what passed for the sidewalk, trying to take all of the spectacle in at once. "Oh, my god," Coyote-3 finally muttered, "That stuff is way stronger than I thought it was."
"I see it, too, Coyote," Matthias murmured to him. Flicker bobbed in agreement.
Virna opened her mouth, a question on her lips, but before she could say anything someone in the crowd glanced over and spotted the four of them. As soon as she noticed the Ghosts floating next to their respective Guardians, she pointed and shouted something. Immediately a fraction of the crowd rushed over, laughing and slapping them on the shoulder or shoving them joyfully. Even Evoksis was received with enthusiasm. "You lot did it!" one of them cried.
Walker-17 looked to Virna, who shrugged. Coyote-3 seemed equally confused, but he gamely thrust a fist into the air, declaring, "Apparently we did!"
"You crazy bastards," the woman laughed. "Figured it would be one of you, doesn't it?"
"Nobody," one of her companions shouted, "is as crazy as a Guardian!"
"I... think I appreciate the sentiment." Walker-17 held up his hands. "But I'm not entirely sure—what exactly is going on?"
"They did it. The City," the woman explained. "They've been chewing away at the Dreadnought for months now, and they finally did it."
Next to him, Evoksis suddenly stood up, ramrod-straight and bright-eyed.
"They—did—are you saying someone seized control of the Dreadnought?" Walker-17 asked, astonished.
"No, no. They did one better than that. They sent in a fireteam and they got him at last," the woman said.
Someone in the crowd shouted, "For the Queen!" And the chant was taken up, at first in ragged, intermittent cheers, and then in a thundering wave of voices. Virna had gone utterly still, her face a mask of disbelief and hope so heartbreaking that Walker-17 felt it hit him in the chest like a physical force. He half-raised one hand, unsure if he wanted to comfort her or congratulate her, but seized by the powerful emotion all the same.
"You mean-?" she asked.
The woman who'd been speaking paused, and with one look at Virna's face, she understood. Her jubilant demeanor settled into something a little calmer, a little warmer, and she reached over to clasp Virna's shoulder. "They killed him," she said, "The Taken King is dead."
A few fun facts: Reliable Pawn and Curio is the name of an actual shop, and with the exception of Haze, the drugs mentioned in this chapter come from the song titles of the album I listened to (several times) while I worked on this. It's Trapeze's Medusa, which I recommend if you're into early 70s blues rock.
This chapter's coming a bit early because after tomorrow I will, of course, be playing Destiny 2. Next week's chapter will probably be on time, but if it's not... well. You know why.