Barsuola Airbase, Four Klicks NW of Orsolya
Eighteen beings occupied a waiting room on the first floor of the airbase's terminal; four of them human. Eight blueskins in buff-coloured robes sitting on plastic chairs against the wall faced Izuru. Square-faced and red-eyed, the blueskins fidgeted. Vertical clefts ran down their faces where their noses should have been. Wide, circular hats with shallow domes sat in their laps. Two long toes poked out from beneath the hems of their robes. Hard soles tapped on the floor. Passes held inside laminate sleeves dangled from their necks.
Izuru, hunched over, rested her forearms on her knees. She took hold of her own pass, hanging from its lanyard, and twisted it around. Blue letters were printed on a white background: Diplomat. Below it was a series of vertical black lines in varying width.
"How are you feeling?" Setsiba dipped her shrouded head close to Izuru's. She and the rest of the Zalileans wore the white and green of Zalilea; capes over green robes stitched together from dozens of torn up and dyed human articles. Runes were sewn in to the hems.
Izuru twisted her neck and met Setsiba's eye. The drawn hood tautened against her cheek. "…Good."
"You have all Zalilea's gratitude for taking this colossal step."
"Rangers do not take steps. They bound."
"Gratitude for such momentous bound… Ranger."
"Past tense. That ship has long since sailed." Izuru ran her thumb along a seam where the different shades of fabric met. "Eight weeks. Was it eight weeks? Eight weeks ago, I was homeless, wasn't I?"
"Has memory surfaced?"
"Now, I'm bound for a high-class reception… in a dress."
"You wear our colours well. Honestly, it takes but a moment to bring out your radiance."
"You mean the wig? Was that really necessary?" Thick, wavey hair fell down Izuru's chest, shades lighter than her normal colour.
"Oh, yes. The senior species have appearances to make up for."
"You wonder why they hate us…"
"Who, the blueskin?"
"Them, the humans, our fallen brethren…"
"And they shall regard the Fair Folk with awe."
"Look fair yet feel foul." Izuru crushed the first and second finger on her righthand glove.
"Appearances and manners. Let the mask of the emissary seal around your flesh. Smile. Smile and think of our return to the enclave. There is someone there I would like you to meet once we are done with diplomacy for the evening."
"Bottled?"
"Hmmh." Setsiba sucked in her lips and bit them. "You need only imagine unwed, youthful innocence personified."
"You forgot the leash and collar."
"Leash and—?"
"I am not property to parade up and down for the eyes of the lustful. I know where they stray, and I know true happiness is not found with the male of the species. You know that too."
"Female then?"
Izuru's seat creaked. She straightened her knees and tugged her wide sleeves from where they had ridden up her forearms. Brown leather poked out from underneath the hem of her dress. Her clinging sash choked her waist. Human eyes snapped on to Izuru. The four guards, a pair at each doorway, bore semi-automatic scatterguns. Their stares followed Izuru over to the window. The nearest blueskin dipped its head and buried its arms inside its robes.
"What do they have to protest about?" Flapping signs and painted banners billowed in the wind outside the airbase's perimeter fence. Humans, gathered in mobs, waved their slogans about. Behind the crowds, tent spires rose and fires burned inside rusted fuel drums. "They won here, didn't they?"
"Well, it was no Cadia—"
"Don't. Just don't." Izuru wrung the long end of her sash hanging down the front of her dress. A muscle twitched in her cheek.
"Apologies. I did not know. Er, are you sleeping easier with the medication now?" A grey-green fighter lifted off from its sheltered berth on the far side of the base and rocketed in to the air. A whoomph rattled the windows. "Alright then. When we return to the enclave, tell me where true happiness is found. I shall hold you to that." Setsiba went back to her seat.
Every night. Izuru shut her eyes. Her gloved hand made a fist. Gods, take these nightmares from my mind.
Seals parted and doors hissed open. Boots stamped together. Izuru's shoulders twitched. "Tau party?" A naval officer with rings on his sleeves and braid on his shoulders marched in. The guards stood at attention and saluted. "As you were. Tau party, if you'd follow me…"
Jabbers fired back and forth between the blueskins. Bony, three-fingers hands screwed the domed hats on to ridged crowns. Izuru retreated from the blueskins and sat down next to Setsiba and smoothed her dress. Hooves clopped out of the room. Two of the human guards followed in the aliens' wake and sealed the doors behind them.
"Never have I encountered a more charismatic gang of walking bin-lids."
"Aha—!" Setsiba's hand slapped against her mouth and held it shut.
"Setsiba?" A member of Setsiba's team leaned around his colleagues. "Now is not the time to lose composure. Not in front of the humans!"
"Apologies." Setsiba's chest shook. She smirked at Izuru from behind her hand and nudged her with her shoulder. "Very good…"
"Eldar party?" A human officer strode in a few minutes later. Setsiba rose, turned to the officer, and bowed her head. "Follow me."
"Zalileans, to me. Keep your passes in sight."
"Eshairr…" A Zalilean mumbled.
"Gothic only!"
Two Valkyrie gunships sat, engines running, on adjacent landing pads. Ferrocrete teeth surrounded the pads and armed naval infantry formed their own perimeter. Izuru faltered and fell behind Setsiba. Setsiba lurched at Izuru and dragged her forwards. "No, do not hesitate! They are here for our protection."
Our protection? There has to be a whole platoon out here. Izuru's eyes dropped to the puddle-slick tarmac. She, Setsiba, and the six other Zalileans followed the officer through the cordon and up a ramp to the pad. Air gushed from the roaring turbojets. A crewman in a bright yellow jacket and domed helmet signalled the officer to halt at the edge of the pad. Izuru pinched her thin hood and pushed it down on her wig. Behind her, the Zalileans held their cloaks to their bodies and shivered in the drizzle. The crewman scooted over to the officer, touched his shoulder, then aimed his arm at the open troop bay. The officer pointed at the Zalileans and flicked his finger at the Valkyrie.
A bucket seat numbed Izuru's buttocks. Padded arms crushed her chest and held her neck rigid. Around her, Zalileans struggled to wean comfort from the hard seats and throttling harnesses. The human officer passed Setsiba a pair of headphones attached to a coiled wire and snapped another set over his own ears. Two naval infantry clipped lines to their equipment belts and sat on the edge of the ramp and rested marksman's rifles in their laps. Izuru's stomach plummeted. The deep, grey world outside tilted. A crumpled, foil packet slid out from beneath Izuru's seat. A marksman's hand shot out and seized the packet on the ramp's edge.
Setsiba's and the human officer's lips moved. Izuru's stare wandered around the troop bay, over the netting hanging from the bulkhead, until her eyes settled on the human sitting alone on the opposite row of seats. The human caught her eye mid-sentence and smiled and nodded. Izuru's stomach clenched. Warmth spread across her brow. The human mouthed three syllables and held up his five fingers. Izuru's eyes fell to her right hand and the empty fingers on her own glove.
Many lights twinkled in spires and domes crowding Upper Gorev. Polished silver rooftops glinted. Curving walkways clung to the towers and spanned yawning heights between structures. Arcing spotlights swept the dusk sky. Giant holographic letters flashed on the faces of the towers. Now Entering Upper Gorev.
Wind whistled between gaps in docking platforms nestled beneath three towers rising hundreds of feet higher than any other building in the upper district. Arms uncurled and magnets clunked around the Valkyrie's wings. The ramp touched down upon a platform devoid of barrier and the two marksmen unclipped their lines and disembarked.
"Oohh…" Setsiba pried off her ears and popped her harness. "Smell that?"
"Smell what?" Izuru wiggled her numb toes.
"Cleaner air than we have had in six months."
The whining receded in to a background hum. The human liaison stood and awaited his charges by the ramp's edge. "Madam Ambassador, if you would follow me?"
Zalileans fumbled with harnesses and set trailing robes straight. Izuru trod on the hem of her dress and flew forwards. Her nose smacked a Zalilean's shoulder. "Umph!" The Zalilean stumbled. His cloak slipped from a shoulder. "Oh, tread with care, outsider!"
"Apologies." Izuru lifted her boot and tugged her torn hem up. A Zalilean snorted. Another grimaced and muttered in the mother tongue. Izuru joined Setsiba and left the Valkyrie's shadow and climbed stairs up to an enclosed walkway spanning the platforms. "Know what it's like to breathe another?"
"Of course. Our flight from Zalilea was a crowded, miserable affair. Let us say, a being's true nature quickly comes to light when sharing bread, water, and bucket with them."
"How many made landfall on Haven with you?"
"Less."
"Less than…?"
"I had hoped." Setsiba flashed a smile. "It could almost be real water, couldn't it?"
Glimmering showers cascaded along the pure white walls. Izuru pulled a glove off and ran her hand along the surface. Light rippled across her skin. A gold-plated guide-rail ran along the wall. "Dead."
"Hm?"
"Does it bother you?"
"Does what bother me?"
"The silence. Ulthwé and Zalilea breathed as any living thing would. Up here, down in the muddy filth too, it's all silent."
Three levels up from the docks, a holographic lattice occupied a gateway guarded by humans in bright magenta and gold body armour. Spiked plumes covered full-face helmets with T-shaped visors. Portable shield generators sat on each one's belt. "Just procedure, I assure you, Madam Ambassador," the officer said. "We'll need you to remove any metallic items, consumables, or specified offensive weapons on your person."
"Please do as the human says, followers." Setsiba unlatched a chrono from her wrist.
"Then step through the scanner. Thank you."
And non-specified offensive weapons? Izuru unfastened the clasp at her neck and folded her cloak over her arm. "I'd like to see them try and disarm a psyker."
"Ssh! Their bullets will do exactly that." Setsiba dropped her cloak and chrono in to a box and stepped in to the scanner. The lattice flowed over Setsiba then back again. "Am I clear?"
A guard raised his shock baton and flicked it. "Next."
Izuru left her cloak and faced the scanner. Her shape broke the lattice and it turned red and screeched.
"Any metallic items on you?" The officer said. Gauntlets gripped batons.
Izuru spread her arms and showed her palms. "Sash?" Setsiba's hands touched her own sash. "Izuru."
"Madam?"
Izuru undid her sash and tossed it next to her cloak. Where would I hide a weapon on a dress without pockets?
Red light flashed. The human guards spread their boots, drew their batons and powered their body shields. Izuru's fingers curled in to fists. "What do you want me to do? Lift my skirts?"
"…Okay, go through." The officer picked up Izuru's affects and passed them around the gate.
"What are you carrying?" Setsiba's eyes roved up and down Izuru's dress.
Izuru shrugged. "Gods, I have no idea."
"Where would you—?"
"Please! Not here." Izuru fastened her cloak at her throat.
The six other Zalileans passed through the scanner without incident and the party followed the officer inside a circular turbolift. Shoulder to shoulder with the Zalileans, Izuru gazed at the creeping dial near the ceiling. Straight to the top of the tower. Towers...
A human in olive grey combats leaned against the far side of the turbolift. Not one of the Zalileans paid him any attention. Another human spoke to him. Deep-voiced and slightly nasal. "Oi, still wanna throw some hands, Olen? Put twenty credits on it."
"I'd have to be a lot more drunk to start dishing out fives wi' that xenos backing you up there, ya swine," said the soldier.
"Nah, there'll be no seconds. Me and you, and Rezin as the ref."
Rezin. Izuru pushed through the Zalileans and reached out for the human's shoulder. "Rezin?"
A hooded Zalilean rolled his shoulder and shoved Izuru's hand away. "Gods, Setsiba. Is it common practise for a destitute foreigner to accompany a diplomatic mission?" The Zalilean sneered at Izuru. "Go. Away."
"Izuru?" Setsiba's arm snaked between shoulders. "Up with me, please. We are nearing the summit."
Doors slid outwards. Lights sparkled within shimmering clouds of water spurting from stone mouths, the mouths of naked females writhing on their knees above wide fountains occupying a plaza. Human dignitaries and military officials moved through the nest of contorted bodies and up to a grand entrance flanked by gold pillars.
"Call me a prude, but—"
"You're a prude."
"Heh." Setsiba wiped at moisture on her brow. "I always wondered how far humans had fallen to decadence. Puts our race to shame, I say."
"Your words strike a little too close to home."
"Mm. Still, when one dwells in the clouds, it would instil feelings of grandiose within, wouldn't it?"
"To the rich, undisciplined overlords of this planet, yes."
"I would have loved to have seen the looks on the faces of the blueskin. See the colour they turn in embarrassment—hahaha!"
More of the T-shaped visors stood guard by the grand entrance. Gold railings and crimson carpets led up to the doors. A T-visor passed a square baton across each of the guests in line then waved them inside.
"This is where I leave you, Madam Ambassador. Another officer will be here to meet you at the conclusion of the evening's events." The officer tipped the brim of his cap.
"Gratitude, sir."
Izuru's eyes followed the scanner's path then fell to her chest. What dwells within?
"Follow my lead." Setsiba threw a wink back at Izuru. The scanner spiralled over the human in front and jerked back.
"Next." Setsiba spread her arms and the scanner waved back and forth. "Next."
Izuru moved in to the scanner's range and raised her arms. The T-visor thrust the scanner at her and swept it in a circle. Come on, where is it? Where is it? Izuru caught Setsiba's eye and clamped her jaw shut. The scanner shifted up Izuru's arm and around her shoulders. Tell me where it is.
"Next." The T-visor flicked his scanner. "Next!"
Setsiba offered Izuru her arm. Izuru took it. "What did you do?"
"The minds of the weak bow easily." Setsiba gave Izuru's arm a squeeze. "Anything for a cousin."
"Ulthwé's gratitude, madam."
"So, you are of Ulthwé…"
"You knew that."
"Pure speculation, wanderer."
Izuru left Setsiba waiting in the golden pillars and approached a tall memorial in the centre of a room with four staircases leading to upper floors. A brass plaque at the base read: The Heroes of the Cadian Gate. Bronze statues of humans in chunky power armour flanked a thickset, square-jawed, hooked-nosed human in Cadian combats whose eyes were fixed on the sky. Izuru's fingers brushed a touchpad beneath the plaque.
"In the two years since victory at Cadia, we remember the sacrifices made by the forces of mankind on the ground, in the skies, and in orbit. Arm in arm, the Cadian Shock Troops and the Adeptus Astartes stood their ground against a genocidal foe. Look to the skies and give thanks to humanity's stalwart protectors. The God-Emperor protects."
Izuru swiped her hood back. Hairs on her arms and her nape stood on end. "…No."
"No?" Setsiba led the party over. "Something amiss?"
"We lost—er, they lost."
"Ha-ha! I think you are blurring the lines between reality and fantasy there, outsider."
"Come." Setsiba steered Izuru away from the memorial. "It is not the business of the diplomat to besmirch a human memorial. Their sacrifices, not ours."
"They're lying!" Izuru wrenched her arm from Setsiba's grasp. "Lying about everything."
"It doesn't matter if it's true or not. Politicians do not attack other species' war heroes."
"Well, lucky for Zalilea, I am not a politician."
"You are a politician. Please, other ears twitch. Soften your voice."
"Deluded," a Zalilean murmured.
"No kin walked Cadia, Setsiba," said another. "That much is written in the stars."
Izuru pinched the skin on her brow. "I was… I was…"
"If you would like a moment, we will await you upstairs."
"No-no. I apologise, madam."
Izuru trailed the Zalileans up the stairs and out in to the evening air. Bent-boughed trees leaned over a sky-bridge spanning a chasm between towers. Humans gathered in packs and leaned on the railing chatting and balancing shallow glasses in their hands. Tracer arced in to the sky. Izuru clenched her cloak to her throat and ducked at a pop-pop-pop.
"You slant-ears never seen fireworks before?" A human female in a glittering dress swayed against the railing. One of the shoulders of her dress had slipped down and alcohol stained her front. Izuru's lips thinned. She brought her hands together and cracked a knuckle.
"Peace, cousin!" Setsiba flew over and threw an arm around Izuru's shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, madam. We Zalileans have not had the privilege of witnessing the wonder of pyrotechnics before."
The woman let a belch loose and tugged her shoulder up. "So, are your tits as pointy as your ears then?"
"I'm sorry, she's drunk." The drunk's companion moved between her and Izuru. "She's drunk."
"I wish the both of you a pleasant evening." Setsiba manoeuvred Izuru over to the party. "Smile. Let them think it's nothing."
"So, in the highpoint of human society blind, drunken idiocy reigns? I take poverty over this." Izuru peeled Setsiba's hand off. "At least they look out for one another on the street."
"Really? The allure of the poverty line claws at your heart? Not for one second, do I believe you better suited for squalor, Izuru. You belong here, with me, in the finest attire Zalilea provides."
"In a dress hand-stitched from parachute silk?"
"We make do with the material at hand. Rangers above all should understand that."
Zalilean eyes glared at Izuru from beneath hoods. "You should not be here."
"You do not belong here, foreigner."
"Shush! Hold opinions within, this evening. You and I, one and all, are Zalilea tonight. Remember your tongues, and take pause for thought before they wag."
Orbs hovered in clusters near the vaulted ceiling of a five-hundred-foot-long chamber. Tables resplendent with pure white tablecloths and piled high with food lined the walls. A polished dance-floor took up the majority of the chamber's floorspace. Holographic figures spiralled around poles reaching up to the ceiling. Imitation flames danced in alcoves.
"Gentlebeings of Craftworld Zalilea." A greeter approached Setsiba at the head of the party and bowed. "Governor Jagoda bids you welcome to his house. His facilities are yours. We hope you have a pleasant evening."
"Gratitude, sir. Will the governor be making an appearance?"
"Governor Jagoda is not scheduled to be making an appearance this evening, Madam Ambassador. Might I suggest the Pericleid absinthe available on table seven to my right? Potent enough to satisfy your needs?"
"We shall enjoy all you have to offer this night, sir." Setsiba bowed. The Zalileans followed her example.
Izuru inclined her head but remained stiff-backed. Not potent enough for my liking. Who is Governor Jagoda anyway?
Zalilean heads leaned together. The ring they formed blocked Izuru out. "Stay within eyesight. No heavy intoxication either, Elicia. These shoulders will not be bearing any drunken body out in to the night. Enjoy yourselves." The Zalileans parted and Izuru found Setsiba by her shoulder. "The bottle calls?"
"Gods, I never thought we'd get there." Izuru worked two fingers inside her hood and around the warmth spreading on her nape. She and Setsiba headed over to the food and drink piled on the tables. Humans cheered and caroused around them. Alcohol stained the floor. A glass shattered and fragments crunched beneath heels.
"Pericleid?" Setsiba lifted a black bottle out of a cluster. "Or maybe some Insidiou…?"
Izuru's fingers plunged inside two tumblers, clinked them together, and set them down at the table's edge. "Just pour the fucking drinks." She leaned back against the edge and folded her arms.
Clear liquid splashed in the tumblers. Setsiba took hers and handed the other to Izuru. "Pikam."
"Rezin."
Setsiba's brow furrowed. "A student of chemistry?"
"N—no, Rezin was a—was a human. I think." Izuru admitted liquid fire to her stomach. Her throat burned. She slammed the empty tumbler on the table. "Psychology. Human psychology."
"Ahh, I see…" Setsiba tipped her tumbler back and swallowed. "Because of your father?"
"I would dwell within the minds of the enemy. Weed out his weaknesses. Now, I dwell in his castle, drinking his plonk, and listening to his music."
"Ahuh—plonk?"
"I just—I just come out with these words…" Izuru poured her second. "Coming easier than the mother tongue does now, I can tell you."
"Mm, that is some strong substance…" Setsiba wiped at her eyes. "Canny of the humans supplying this for us. You have to enlighten me how such elegance can project with such churlishness."
"They know it. You know it."
"I know what?"
"I suppose it comes from a single-parent upbringing. No mother to preach gentleness and femininity, just the father's stern hand moulding a warrior-to-be."
"Moulding their preference for the profane? That is not the answer, Izuru. The progenitor does not pass on the alien dialect for the offspring to indulge in, and in no way the very worst of it. I believe you stood at Cadia, where the human influence took hold. I could not be seen to be taking your side back there."
"That spectre has long loomed over me." Izuru drained her second. "All my life. Don't even begin to think you can understand."
"I will not. No business is it of mine. Your health and wellbeing are though, as is the health and wellbeing of every Zalilean. We can converse discreetly if you so wish."
"You've heard all my answers." Izuru swallowed a burp. "All but one."
"Oh?"
"Peel back the brute's face and see the horror dwelling within."
"Brawn, I see that. But honour and compassion simmer within. There is no being alive beyond saving. Sometimes, it takes more than your own willpower to bring you back from the pit. Your denouement lies not at the bottom of that bottle, or the next one, or the one after that. You know it. I know it." Setsiba set her tumbler down and took the Insidiou away from Izuru. "Enjoy your evening, Ranger."
Izuru retreated to an alcove with a bottle of a lesser potency and a single glass. Multi-coloured lights rippled. Blood boomed inside Izuru's ears. Sore eyelids closed over aching eyes. No, not here. Izuru forced her thumb and forefinger in to her eyes. Her glass fell from her hand and shattered. Alcohol flew across the floor. Izuru's cheek touched the wall. Fire writhed behind her.
Two little eyes watched Izuru. Izuru peeled her warm cheek away from the wall. Couples danced around the child standing dead still. Long, brown hair fell over wide, blue eyes and waxen skin. My daughter. Izuru's heel touched the edge of the dancefloor. A couple whizzed past, whipping at Izuru's dress. Humans in olive grey and camouflaged combats spun around her. A fur hat bobbed. Its bearded owner whirled with a partner half his size. A crimson-haired female in the arms of a dark-haired male of similar youth swayed together.
I know your face. Izuru reached out for the youth. A hand closed around her shoulder from behind. Izuru, seized the hand, wrenched it forwards and hurled a body over her shoulder. The body thumped upon the dancefloor on its back. Izuru squeezed its wrist between her knees and snapped it. A human squarked and rolled on to its side and curled up. Izuru dove through the dancers, shunting them out of her path. Her stomach smacked against a table's edge. A corked bottle tipped over and rolled off. Laughter followed her out of the hall and in to the night air. Brown earth rushed up to Izuru's face. Her fingers dug in to the soil. Hair fell over her mouth.
Stars twinkled in the golden haze above the Governor's palace. Izuru slumped on a bench just off a tree-lined veranda looking out across Upper Gorev. The wig lay next to her. Little yellow flecks clung to the strands. Izuru sniffed and wiped her thumb over her tear ducts. Grimacing at the wig, Izuru bore it over to the wall. Thick Bushes grew outwards and plants overflowed from pots. Vines entwined and thorns snaked around. Izuru climbed up on to the wall and shimmied up a tree trunk pointing at a forty-five-degree angle. No tears will be shed for you. Izuru reached for the wig stuffed in her sash.
"Are you really doing this?"
Izuru froze. Her knees gripped the smooth bark. A slight, black-haired human wearing Navy grey stood alone on the path wringing a peaked cap. His breast was free of ribbon and only two rings circled his cuff; a junior officer. Izuru shuffled back along the branch and swung on to the wall and hopped back down to the path. Bark fell from her dirtied dress. "Who do you work for?"
"…Errr, C-Calixor Hereditus Grome." The human moved over to the wall and leaned back on the stone.
Izuru shifted and placed the bench between her and the human. "You speak for him?"
"F—for myself. You wouldn't have jumped, would you?"
"This…" Izuru flicked the sticky strands. "I wanted to hurl it over the side."
"Why?"
"I… suffered an indignity." Izuru wiped her chin. "Do I know you, human?"
"I was—well, a few months ago, I drove you back to your enclave. Do you remember?" The human crumpled the crown of his cap in his fingers. "I recognised you on the dancefloor earlier. Honestly, I didn't think it was possible for one woman to cause such an upset. I think you might have hurt someone."
"Don't—don't come any closer. I can hurt you."
"I won't. I'm Benedek Vantorout. Call me Ben." The human smiled, showing slightly crooked teeth. "If you'd like, I can show you where you can wash."
"Trust a human? Spent time at the school for gifted students, have you?"
"Top of my class." Ben's lips twitched.
"And your master, the Calixor, is he as outwardly accommodating as you are of us?"
"Don't know. I'd have to ask the author." Ben planted an elbow on the wall and slouched.
"…What?"
"Calixor Grome and the Seven-headed Serpent of Asokumar; a children's book. It was a joke," Ben said, all with a smirk on his face.
"You read children's fiction?"
"I didn't know how to approach you discreetly. You looked in a bad way and I didn't want to startle you. Are you alright?"
Izuru dropped the wig on the bench and flopped next to it. "Why?"
"I don't like seeing somebody on their own, unhappy at a party."
"Why did you help me?"
"You sort of fell in to my lap, that morning. Put a terrific dent in my bonnet, I can tell you." Ben grinned. "I wasn't letting any mob follow through with a lynching in broad daylight."
"Lynching?" Izuru's fingernails scraped the short hair on her crown.
"For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why they wanted you strung up so badly. I fired a warning shot, they scattered, and I picked you up and drove you to your people. Very least I could do."
"The very least you could do?! What do you want from me, human?"
"I'm Benedek Vantorout, Imperial Naval Reserve. Two rings on the cuffs, that's lieutenant. I've lived on Haven my whole life, apart from a year's training and deployment before the accident and I spent a year learning to walk again. Now, every day, I sit at a desk in an office plotting maps for the hats upstairs wishing – wishing – I could start again, go back to sixteen, and pummel some sense in to that boy before he boarded that transport. There, you know more about me now than anybody else in the district."
"Show me where I can wash, Lieutenant." Izuru scooped the wig up and wedged it inside her sash.
Hood raised, Izuru trod the path alongside Ben. Ahead, a bench encircled a statue of a human nobleman in a thick, flowing robe. A sheathed sword hung from his belt, a bound scroll poked out of his gauntlet, and coiled tubes ran around an ocular implant in to his brain. Two humans sat on the bench, their arms around each other's necks and mouths locked together.
"Sit down." Ben dove at the bench and patted the space beside him. "Sit!"
"What? Why?" Izuru sat outside of Ben's reach.
"Put your arm around me." Ben shifted closer.
"No!" Boots pounded the path. Izuru slipped her arm around Ben's back and leaned close to him. The peak of Ben's cap touched Izuru's forehead. In the corner of Izuru's eye, two T-visors bounded past. Batons swung from their hips. One threw a look at Izuru and Ben but did not stop.
"Are they gone?" Ben removed his hand from Izuru's waist.
"They're gone." Izuru clawed at Ben's collar and hauled him in. Teeth bared, Izuru's nose was inches from Ben's. "Next time, tell me before you lay hands on me."
Ben's cheeks reddened. "I'm sorry, I—I couldn't find the right words quickly enough."
"Guards are coming. Pretend we are a couple."
"You tripped me up." Ben scratched his neck. "I won't lay hands on you again."
"What are you accusing me of?"
"No, I didn't mean trip up in a literal sense."
"Who sent you after me?"
"Nobody sent me. I swear on the soul of Saint Barnecut."
"I don't know who that is."
"Well, I swear on my parents' tombs then. Nobody sent me. I wanted to see you. Get some closure on… everything."
"D'you want to show me where I can wash or not?"
"Of course. Shall we?"
Further along the path, Ben led Izuru through a crowded terrace and inside the palace. "You came here alone?"
"With my bosses. Anything that gets me away from the wi—the house for the evening, I'll take. Free food and drinks. Too good to pass up."
"You said wife before you corrected yourself."
"No, I don't think…"
"Do you not enjoy being in one another's company?"
T-visors rounded the far end of the corridor. Izuru caught Ben's waist. Ben pressed his forearm against the wall above Izuru's head. The T-visors tramped past. Izuru waited for their clomping boots to fade before sidling around Ben.
"I have no idea of the quabbles of Eldar married life. Whether you consider it regular practise to fling barbs at the slightest provocation. Now, one wrong word and it's hellfire."
Izuru looked back at Ben. "I understand, human."
"Do you—do you really?" Ben jogged after Izuru.
"I do."
"Should be just up here on the right. Up these stairs, then right." Ben took a flight of stairs two at a time and moved ahead of Izuru. "Should be—no, wait!"
Gold-plated bowls ran along the far wall of a washroom. Mirrors shone above them. Open cubicles occupied the other wall. Izuru tossed her wig next to a polished basin and swiped her hand beneath the tap.
"This is the men's—er, males."
"Don't worry…" Izuru ran the wig through the warm jet. "Just tell them I'm drunk." Izuru took water in to her mouth, wiped her chops, and spat it in the sink.
"You, er, have a good grasp of Gothic for someone that…" Ben leaned around the door and checked each way.
"Someone that…?"
"Ahh, no—no I didn't mean it in that way."
"You've had the line the Crotch peddles drilled in to you too deeply."
"The what—?"
"The…" Izuru snapped her wet fingers. "The Imperial Guard, the Navy, any of those self-serving, selfish institutions that care nothing for the individual."
"That's the Imperium of Man for you, madam. The value of the individual falls among the same category as livestock, vermin, trash."
"Bullets." Izuru squeezed water from the wig. Ruined now.
"Company." Ben darted back from the door. "Madam!"
"Who?"
"Guards." Ben nudged open a cubicle door. "Quick."
"What are you…?"
"Come on!"
Izuru flew inside the cubicle. Ben followed and closed the door behind her. "Up on the—"
"Ugh." Izuru climbed up on to a seat ingrained with gold leaf. Outside, the door hissed open and boots hammered on the tiles.
"Check every cubicle. Come on, hurry up! My beer's getting warm." A fist thumped on the cubicle door.
"Sir, we're on the hunt for a xenos; a female around six-foot. Green and white dress. Would you happened to have seen anybody matching that description?"
"Er, negative. You ever seen any women above six feet? Can't be that hard to spot."
"Sir, there is a very dangerous person on the loose. A member of the governor's staff has suffered a broken wrist because of her actions."
"Are there any other xenos around? My commander would want to know whether the premises are still safe for Admiral Curzon."
"No, the xenos is on her own." Another thump on the door. "I require you present identification, sir."
"Of course." Ben unclipped a pass from his breast pocket and slid it under the door. "If you need further confirmation, my immediate superior is Commander Richard Sorge with the naval delegation."
The pass slid back through the gap. "Thank you, sir. Enjoy your evening." Ben caught Izuru's eye and crossed his fingers.
"Hold on, whose is this?"
"The wig," Izuru mouthed, eyes wide.
"Sir, does this wig belong to you."
"I was entertaining just now. There was an accident and I kindly offered to wash my friend's hairpiece."
"Who is this friend, sir?"
"I didn't pay for her name, just her company."
"Enjoy your evening, sir."
"Thank you. I will."
Izuru counted to sixty. The seats hinges squeaked. Ben's palm lay flat on the door. "Okay."
"Okay."
"Okaay…?" Izuru made eyes at the door.
"Wait. I've got an idea." Ben unlocked the door and stepped out.
"Where are you—?"
"Wait here. Keep it locked. I'll knock four times when I'm back."
"Ben, Ben!" Izuru climbed down from the seat. "Damn it, don't!" Izuru yanked the wig from the sink and retreated inside the cubicle. Gods, this isn't happening. Izuru's forehead touched the wall.
Minutes later, a knuckle struck the door four times. "Ma'am?"
Izuru braced her arm against the door. "Who do you work for?"
"Calixor Hereditus Grome."
Izuru swiped the lock. "You took your time. What were you…?"
Ben held a crumpled, pink suit with a zip running from breast to groin. Handles were stitched on the back of the neck and the hips. A pair of elevated heels dangled by their straps. "Don't worry. They won't be needing them in a hurry."
"Where in the—?" Izuru's mouth dropped. "Gods, human, I'm not putting that on!"
"If you walk out of here in that, nobody will pay you a second glance. Doubly so if you're with me." Ben passed the suit in. "Thanks for being patient. I'll be outside."
Izuru's eyes ran up and down the zips and the handles of the suit. And which waif did he lift this from? Barely fit half of me in that.
Heels clacked on the floor outside the latrine. Izuru wobbled over to Ben and put an arm on the wall. The suit's legs ended three inches above Izuru's ankles and the sleeves the same for her wrists. Her sodden wig sat on her head. Thick clumps hid the tips of her ears. "Where exactly did you…?"
"Oh, they were too preoccupied with one another to care." Ben offered Izuru's the crook of his arm.
"How human women walk in these, I'll—" Izuru keeled sideways.
"Agh!" Ben caught Izuru's arm. "Just pretend you're—"
"—Pretend you're drunk. Hunh." Izuru's lip curled.
"You look just the part, ma'am."
"A compliment or…?"
"Thank you for being patient." Ben smiled. A pair of T-visors bounded out of a turbolift ahead of Izuru and Ben. Izuru tottered and fell against Ben's shoulder.
"Excuse me, sir, ma'am." A T-visor waved a baton at them.
"I beg your pardon." Ben manoeuvred Izuru out of the way. "Mine's a little north of the limit."
The T-visors passed Izuru and Ben without stopping. Both entered the turbolift. Once the doors had closed, Izuru lifted her foot and pried her heel off. "Some civic torture measure?" Izuru rolled her bare foot and pulled off her other heel. "You humans have such strange tastes in fashion." Ben held down the emergency stop button and faced Izuru. "…What?"
"Now's probably a good time to tell me who you work for."
"You would not understand." Izuru eyed the emergency stop.
"They don't make a habit of hiring idiots in Naval Intelligence. I might not be a fighter like you are, but I've got a brain, and the compulsion to use it. Now, what's compelled a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman to break with her fellowship?"
"My kind are solitary."
"No, you are social creatures, just as we are. A human will always try to seek out companionship when alone. It's part of our basic function. Without our companions, we are nothing."
"I am not a human."
"Could have fooled me. Infiltrator, sleeper agent, honey pot?"
"Honey pot?"
"What's the easiest way to manipulate someone?"
"The promise of physical intimacy. You're bold to suggest I may be inclined to subterfuge, human. It was foolish offering your hand in aid." Izuru closed her fist. "Remove your finger, or your wife awakens alone on the morrow."
"Would you?" Ben's brows lifted. "Would it be quick?"
"Quick—?" Izuru's fist unclenched.
"I'd be doing her a favour probably." Ben's head sagged. "Heh. They'd have my stuff cleared out and a new man brought in before lunch tomorrow."
"I see."
"No, I don't think you—"
"My species forbids annulment too. We're not the only ones with trouble sitting on the other side of the breakfast table. I'm here in exile, sworn to no Craftworld. This planet shall be my tomb."
Ben removed his finger from the button. A flashing icon resumed its travel. Izuru hooked her arm around Ben's waist and laid her head on his shoulder. "Annulment isn't forbidden strictly, ma'am, just frowned on. It's money too. With that, I'm on the losing side."
Barefoot, Izuru shambled out of the turbolift clinging to Ben. Human civilians sat at round tables drinking and chatting. Dancers clad in vapor-suits similar to Izuru's circled poles on elevated dais. Couples careered around one another on an illuminated dance floor. "Can you hear me?" Izuru said in Ben's ear.
"Just about."
"Four T-visors at the far door. The only point of egress. One pair, mobile patrol."
"T-visors?"
"Guards."
"Err, I've an idea." Ben pulled Izuru over to the dancefloor. "Take my waist."
"No."
"Do you know this dance?"
Do you know this dance? Izuru lurched away. Oh, Gods, it was you.
"Ah, sorry. Maybe not then." Ben came after Izuru. "Something the matter?"
"Bu—bu—buy me a drink." Izuru jiggled Ben's arm. "Buy me a drink!" Izuru dealt a slap across Ben's cheek. Nearby heads turned.
"Er…" Ben set his cap straight and stumbled over to a bar. "Bartender, could I have a glass of—"
"—The whole bottle." Izuru swung her leg over a stool. "Now."
"Uhh…" Ben dug in his pockets.
"S'cuse me?" A human wearing a suit open at the collar rolled over clutching Rako sticks in his fist. Sweat shone beneath his eyes and alcohol soured his breath. "That's for the bottle. I'll pay triple what he's paying for you to come to my table."
"Er, sorry. The lady is with me." Ben laid a Rako stick on the bar. "We've already done business."
"If you've done business, you won't mind a little extra work, sugarlump."
"Sir, we can discuss in a civil—"
Izuru grasped a full bottle by the neck and swung it backhand. Glass exploded and alcohol splattered the human's face and body. He toppled over and hit the floor. The broken neck in her hand, Izuru loomed over the spluttering human. "No sale."
The humans at the tables nearest gaped at the bloody mess lying on a glass carpet. One lifted his glass. "Hoo-hoo!" Others raised their drinks.
"Whey-hey!" Eyes all across the room found Izuru.
"Oi, piss on him!" Rako sticks flew in to the air.
"Jump up and down!"
"Just stand there!"
"Err, y'know, just take—take the lot." Ben dumped a small pile of Rako from his pockets and wallet and shunted them across the bar. "Bottle, damages, and goodwill. The Emperor protects."
Izuru tossed the broken neck on to the human, planted her elbows on the bar, and thrust her chest out.
"Know how to make an impression, don't you?" Ben pocketed his thinned wallet and perched on the stool beside Izuru's.
"How would you remain inconspicuous?"
"The whole room is looking."
"Let them look. I'm waiting for the guards." T-visors brawled through the gawkers. Batons left belts and aimed at Izuru and Ben.
"Who is responsible?"
"Umm…" Ben's jaw quivered.
"I am."
"Ma'am, you confess to assaulting that man without provocation?"
"He made a pass. My services are currently in-use. He took it poorly."
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises. Please come with us."
"Er, we're not finished…" Ben craned his head away from the tip of a baton.
"Identification."
"I'm with the naval delegation." Ben gave his pass up. "Lieutenant Vantorout."
"Sir, please come with us."
T-visors made a box around Izuru and Ben and escorted them through the checkpoint at the far end of the room. Five flights of stairs down and a sliding door led on to a crowded balcony and down to a fleet of sleek craft with neither wheels nor engines parked on a lawn.
The bald, broken-nosed guest, standing alone one floor above the naval officer and the prostitute rested elbows on the parapet and linked wrinkled fingers. Flint eyes narrowed. Well, what do you know. The woman from Grendel. Estoc tilted his head and squeezed a mic beneath his jacket collar. "Leaving. Mobile One and Two, standing by."
"Hold them back, Estoc. Let's let our boy relax for now."
"Roger."
"Good job, this evening. Come on up to the VIP lounge. We're just about to go another round. It'll be on me."
"Looking forward to it, Commander. See you up there." Estoc lingered on the balcony. The sky-car carrying Lieutenant Vantorout and his companion soared up in to the night sky. That's a brave man heading off alone with her. God-Emperor safeguard his soul.
Lights blurred outside the sky-car's windows. A long-haired, pale thing met Izuru's stare.
"Should be ten, fifteen minutes then we'll have you back in Avramides." Ben glanced over at Izuru in the seat next to his. Izuru wrenched the wig off, clasped her hands over her nose, and inhaled deeply. "Ma'am?"
Air seeped from between Izuru's hands. "Ohh…" Izuru bent forwards far enough for her cheeks to touch her knees. "Gods, I couldn't keep that up for much longer."
"I've never seen someone slip inside the courtesan's head so naturally. Fooled everyone out there. Fooled me."
"All the bigger fool for abetting me. And it wasn't a courtesan's mind, it was a whore's. You saw how they looked at me."
"Well, I apologise. I didn't mean to cause offence in any way."
"No. You played your part well, sir." Izuru rested her arm on the door panel and flexed her fingers. "I hadn't expected coolness and patience or even time for our kind."
"It looked like your own people didn't make time for you—from what I saw anyway."
"How long were you observing?"
"Just from when the other lady kept your company. Does she understand…?"
"Understand?"
"I don't have to be Eldar to know that you need help."
Izuru rubbed her elbows. Her heels lay in the footwell and her cold air numbed her bare feet. "Can we…?" Izuru pawed at the dials controlling the onboard temperature. "My shoulders alone bear the burden of the past. If you think for one second that you can—"
"—I'm—I'm not saying I can solve your problems, ma'am. I mean, look at me. I'm a reservist. I've never seen combat and I never will because of my discharge. I'm Ben, and all I am right now is very pleased to have met you." Ben extended his arm and offered Izuru his hand.
"Rezin." Izuru shook Ben's hand.
"Wasn't Rezin a man? I didn't know you were in to human artists."
"I—I—I'm not." Izuru brushed a stray hair away from her warming cheek.
"I'm a Rzeznik person. Heh—don't worry, I'm not in to the hard, flip-type head-banging burble. I like my Sacra at room-temperature and preferably in an intact bottle."
"He had it coming."
"The whole bottle? Wasted on him?"
"He wouldn't have heard anything from my mouth. I've met many a being of similar ilk. They'd sew our mouths shut and force us to wear these suits for them. You meet a being with set opinions of the other sex, you strike them hard and tell them to sit. There's no compromise."
"So, if you're not in to Rezin, why choose that for an alias?" Ben cocked his head.
Izuru curled her fingers and ran her thumb along the ends of her bitten-down nails. A long-faded scar crossed the palm of her hand. "…I don't remember."
"I'd raise my glass to Rezin next time if you raise yours to Grome."
"Next time?"
"I'd very much like a next time."
"Oh, erm…" Izuru dove for the sky-car's navigation unit. "I mustn't land in sight of the walls. The Zalileans regard me with enough suspicion as is."
"Mm-hm. Should ease the fare a little." Ben's fingers tapped the keys on the central panel. "And if it was anything like this evening, I'll need all the Rako I can spare for the next outing."
"Ah-hah! Oh, I'm expensive, am I?"
"There. Eyker's Way is two streets away from the Zalilean enclave." Ben plucked at his collar and relaxed in his seat. "Priceless."
"Ha-ha! Shuddup." Izuru stretched her legs out and laid her feet on the dash. "I've stood you for this long. Don't make me do something terrible to end the evening."
"Surprise me."
"Ben." Izuru rested her head on her fingertips. A grin crept across her lips. The sky-car's nose dipped and the skyline tilted. Izuru's stomach flipped. Bright headlights streamed along the Ariko Circuit. The rooftops of Avramides raced up to the sky-car.
"Eurgh." Ben clasped his belly. "Yeah. A naval officer without a stomach for flight."
"Can't all be fighter pilots."
"No, I suppose not."
"Much the same way we cannot all be Pathfinders."
"Pathfinders?"
"No, no, I've—I've said too much." Izuru ran her hands along the door panel. "Could you wait?"
"Um, I think the fare is still running…"
"Look, please—please just wait. I have to fetch something." The door swung upwards and Izuru's bare feet touched the pavement and she hared away down the street.
Ten minutes later, Izuru – her soles black – rapped on Ben's window. "For your troubles."
"Oh." Ben's hand closed around the butt of his stolen laspistol. "God-Emperor, I thought that was that."
Izuru placed her arms on the doorframe. "I trust you won't hold it against me striking you?"
"No, no, no. Thank you for recovering this." Ben leaned over to Izuru's seat and scooped up the wig and the heels. "Here are yours."
"Keep the heels, or don't keep them. Give me flat soles any day." Izuru tugged the wig on. Hair falling over her shoulders, she ducked her head through the open window and kissed Ben's cheek.
"I'm not expensive." Ben blushed and smiled at his knees. He pushed a little piece of torn-up paper at Izuru. On it was an address and a date and time. "My one condition. You tell me your name. I've been more honest with you than I have with a lot of people."
"You'll know." Izuru took the note in her fist. "That is a promise. Go home to your wife. Forget this night."
"Not a chance—"
Izuru backed away and shielded her eyes from the sky-car's blasting jets. The note fell from her fingers and fluttered in to the gutter. Izuru hitched up the breast of her vapor suit and scratched a rising itch on her neck.
You will. Tears ran along Izuru's sleeves. The crumpled note caught her eye. Is this the reality between the world of the living and the dead? Is judgement pending? A pointed claw drew a line in Izuru's flesh. Gods, no. Not you. Izuru swore to herself and recovered the note from the gutter. Very well, human. Let's see who breaks first.
Lower Gorev District, 24:05
Drones zipped through sky-buildings and buzzed up in to their nest in the eaves of the Stancias Banking Tower two-hundred feet above the roof of the adjacent building, Polychron 7.
"Time." Andalusia lifted her night-vision goggles out of her eyes. "Desh, time."
The robed AdMech at Lusia's shoulder halted a running chrono and flipped the panel in his arm shut. "Five minutes, forty-one seconds." Desh twisted the glowing cylinders out of his eyes. "For a district-wide flash recall, that's not bad."
"Yeah, considering they've been thirty-plus hours on the shufti, I'm impressed." Lusia swiped her tablet's window away from the timer and expanded the view of Motherhood's Lower Gorev nest.
"Who would have thought we'd get so much use out of xenos tech?"
"Well, let me know when you've rediscovered the STC for UAVs…"
"Fifty-fifty share of the profits?"
"Sixty-forty."
"Hah!" Desh's cheeks bulged beneath his respirator. He reached around to the backpack containing the night-vision's power unit and unclipped the cable. "Lu, what's wrong?"
Lusia's finger tapped the tablet screen. "Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…"
"Wait, did we miss one?"
"Uh-hurh."
"Damn it. Just unclipped this…" Desh twisted his torso and pattered at the loose connector poking out of the unit's carrier. "This old tech never does your eyes good. Brings on the cataracts—"
"Wait, ssh!" Lusia raised her hand. "I can hear it."
Desh pulled down his goggles. Green light bathed his eyes. "…Yeah, me too."
Lusia climbed up on to the ledge and leaned over the railing. "Call if you see it."
"Oh no, I'll just point like a local idiot." Desh planted his arms on the railing. Buzzing, like an angry insect, drew closer to Polychron 7. "Taking its time…"
"Call if you see it." Lusia slapped Desh's arm and hopped down to her foldout table supporting her equipment. "I'm going to re-route this one here and do a once-over. Feel like working in the dark?"
"As long as it's minus sixty minutes. Those x-rays do your eyes in."
"Uh-hurh. Shouldn't be more than thirty. Anything longer will need the full workshop." Lusia tutted. "Damn, I thought we'd have a full house tonight."
"Could our budget not stretch to some headtorches—you know, the ones with the halogen bulbs? These tanker helmets make my neck ache."
"AdMech are poor, Desh. We steal, finagle, or otherwise reverse-engineer enemy tech." Lusia sent a handshake to the solitary drone. "Now, what are you doing outside your patrol zone?"
"Well, you did alright for yourself, didn't you? Stuffing your pockets with the Archmagos's gains."
"Desh, this wouldn't be possible without the Archmagos's funding. It's for everyone, not just us. Alright, I've got control."
"Ah, here he comes." The buzzing grew louder. "Come on, little fella. Come to mummy."
"Desh!" Lusia chuckled.
"Motherhood was your idea, not mine."
"…Yeeah. Desh, d'you have visual?"
"I… err…"
"Desh?" Lusia's finger froze on the keypad.
"What's all that packaging on—?"
The rooftop somersaulted. Fire and smoke blasted over Lusia. Her head smacked the floor.
A chrono beeped twice. Lusia's fingers closed around glass shards. Burnt fabric stung her nostrils. Flames crackled in Lusia's ears. "Uhh…" The table lay on its side, legs askew. Shattered tablets and ripped-up cables were scattered across the torn-up roof. "…Desh?" Lusia brushed ash from her chrono. 00:35. "Desh?"
Writhing fires flung an orange haze over Polychron 7. Smoke poured from the shattered windows around the rooftop access hatch. Blood dribbled down Lusia's chin. "Desh?" A tooth rolled around Lusia's mouth. She dug her fingers inside and pried the bloody tooth out. "Eurgh." Lusia ran her tongue over the ridges. Nothing wobbled, nor were there any gaps. "Pfft!"
Lusia pushed herself up. Shining blisters coated her hands and arms. Sore all over, Lusia lurched over to a dented exhaust vent covered in muck. "Desh?"
A ragged, semi-circular chunk of Polychron 7's rooftop had gone. Glowing edges and blackened beams smouldered in the choking air. "God, no." All across Lower Gorev, infernos raged. Smoking towers rose high enough to tickle Upper Gorev's underbelly. "Oh, god no." Lusia pressed the back of her reddened, swollen fingers to her lips. "Desh." Lusia dove at the rubble and pushed the table away from a square carrier housing a micro 350 voxcaster. "Hang on, Desh." Lusia flipped the power switch and keyed in. She launched red phlegm from her mouth, pushed the receiver inside her tanker helmet, and held down the talk button. "Emergency, emergency. I am trapped at the top of Polychron 7, transmitting in the blind. Any—"
Glass exploded outwards. Lusia yelped and reeled away. A crack echoed off the buildings. "Shit!" Lusia hurled the 350 over her head and scooted backwards and hid among exhaust vents grouped tightly together. She hooked the toe of her boot around the strap of the 350's carrier and dragged it in. "Help, help—!" Lusia squeezed the receiver and hit her forehead. Breathe, breathe, damn it. The 350 whined. Traffic burbled from the receiver. "Come on…" Lusia nudged the dial. "Any OSEC dispatchers listening, I am trapped at the top of Polychron 7 in Lower Gorev. Please respond."
"Unknown caller, this is Lower Gorev dispatch. State your name and reason for contacting."
"Er, Enginseer Class Two Andalusia van Callet. There's a bomb threat—was a bomb threat at Polychron 7. One of my drones brought the bomb in. Taken half the roof away with it. I'm—I'm trapped up here with my colleague Deshwar Bhogal. The whole district is lit up."
"Roger that, Enginseer. Let's focus on your situation. Tell me your exact location."
"Rooftop of Polychron 7. Lower Gorev."
"Are you or Deshwar wounded?"
"I'm… I'm…"
"Okay, Andalusia. Give yourself a moment. Take a deep breath and relax. Can you breathe alright up there?"
"Yeah, yeah, I can breathe." Lusia tilted her head back. "I have my respirator."
"Okay, I need to know if you or Deshwar are wounded."
Wounded? Lusia's finger left the talk button. Why not say injured?
"Hello, Andalusia? Are you or Deshwar wounded? Let me know and I'll arrange a medevac for the both of you."
"Wait, wait, wait, why are you talking about a medevac? I haven't said anything yet."
"Injuries tend to go hand in hand with bomb strikes. I assumed one or both of you required some form of medical assistance. Let me know your injuries and I'll route an airship to your location."
"Um, I missed the worst of the fragmentation. Took the concussion instead. Errr… first-degree burns on my hands, arms, face." Lusia ran her hand around her torso and up and down her legs. "Nothing broken. No bleeds."
"And Deshwar?"
"I dunno. I couldn't find him. He was closer to the blast. Maybe… maybe…" Lusia's hand slipped from the receiver. It slid down her shaking chest.
"Hello? Hello, Andalusia?"
"Y—yeah." Lusia tucked the receiver in to her ear. "Yeah, I'm here."
"Okay, an airship will be with you in seventeen minutes. It's winch-equipped so you'll be hoisted off the roof by one of our officers. Are you capable of independent movement?"
"Yeah—no, no, no, don't send anything up here. There's a—there's a shooter. He took a shot at me after I grabbed my three-fifty. He has me pinned behind this group of vents."
"Hello, Andalusia? I cannot ascertain whether you are simply in shock from the accident or not. Sit tight. An airship will be with you shortly."
Damn it, I know the sound a passing round makes. Lusia fixed her eyes on the few intact windows left in the building and searched the reflected towers. Somebody's got optics on me. Lusia picked up the receiver."Who is this?"
"This is Officer Aleksandr Ribeldstern relaying to you from Precinct Nine, Lower Gorev district. ETA to your location is twenty-seven minutes. How are you for illumination?"
"Illumination? You've got all the ilume you need. The roof is on fire!"
"Our pilot will require PID before he makes his approach. Positive—"
"Positive identification, yeah."
"Do you have a flare?"
"No, I don't have a flare. I don't have a torch either." Lusia felt the bulky plasma pistol holstered on her right hip. "Look, you can't send your bird in here. The sniper has me dialled in. I—I think this was an assassination attempt."
"Okay, Andalusia, let's talk about what you have to hand. Can you treat your burns with what you have right now?"
"No, no I didn't bring a medkit. Why are you so concerned about that? I've been shot at!"
"It's my job, ma'am. I keep you talking until our units are on the scene. That's protocol."
"Oh, it's protocol sending an airship in to a sniper's kill zone, huh?"
"Andalusia, take a breath. A search will be conducted for your colleague as soon as you are lifted out and the fire is taken care of. We must prioritise you above all."
Me above all. Lusia raised her right elbow and reconnected her night-vision's power cable. Bright green flames danced in the goggles' narrow field of vision. "Okay. Where the fuck are you?" Lusia twisted the helmet's IR detector switch. Shutters closed over the lenses, leaving a murky green view.
"Hello, Andalusia? Thought we lost you for a sec there."
Lusia scooped up the 350's receiver."I'm still here." Her forefinger slackened. A thin laser split the air in the open space next to Lusia's vent. Lusia's eyes followed the laser to where it touched a damaged window at the edge of the roof.
"How are you holding up, Andalusia?"
"Err, h—holding up? I'm in shock, remember? I don't have a clear grasp on the situation."
"You're sounding remarkably calm. The number of times I've had to reassure panicking civilians over this channel I've honestly lost count of."
"I'm not a civilian." The laser swerved to the right, away from the vents. Lusia gathered the 350 in her arms and wriggled over to the next vent.
"No, you're sounding like you're handling your situation well, though. Even for AdMech, that's commendable."
"Yeah…" Lusia set the 350 down. The laser tracked through the gaps between the vents, coming to within three feet of her shoulders. The unbroken beam came not from the adjacent Stancias Tower but from a building six-hundred feet distant, reaching all the way up to Upper Gorev's underbelly. "Atamani Heights." Lusia swiped her goggles up on their hinge and pressed her fingers to her eyes. "You're in Atamani Heights."
"Andalusia, I need to ask the name of next of kin. Once you're with us, we'll let them know you're safe."
"I don't have any next of kin."
"Any workmates who we might contact?"
"None at my place of work. They'll have returned to their dormitory for the night."
"And what is your place of work?"
"Why? It's all on file, isn't it?"
"Only if you already have a criminal record with us and I'm not seeing any flags against your name."
Atamani. Lusia, keeping the 350's receiver clamped between her ear and shoulder, swivelled to face the vent and hooked her fingers around the edge. "Hey, what was your name again? I just wanted to thank you for responding so fast."
"Heh, not a problem. I'm Officer Aleksandr Ribeldstern." Lusia stepped away from the vent, in to the open. "The guys call me—" Noise blasted from the receiver. Lusia fell behind the vent and ducked. A hammer banged against the next vent along and a ricochet pinged off the blackened metal. The gunshot came a second later and roared around the buildings. Lusia's trembling fingers dug in to a grill. A second round tore through the vent above Lusia's head. "ARGH!" Lusia flung herself on to her stomach and bellied across to the next vent dragging the 350 along by its cable. A third round cracked the casing and fragmented, showering Lusia. Echoes rang in her ears.
"Now that we have your attention…"
Lusia snatched the 350's receiver. "You son of a bitch. You're not OSEC."
"Miss van Callet." A new voice, older, deeper, spoke in Lusia's ear. "I'd check your tongue and listen if you wish to see the dawn."
"Who are you?"
"I can see you behind that vent. The third vent in the row. It was dangerous trying to flee. You could have been shot."
"Missed a golden opportunity there. Should have taken the shot before you bombed us. Some marksman you are."
"I could have had you killed down on the street in view of hundreds of witnesses. You have to know why I permitted you to live."
"Permitted? You missed. You're not that good."
"Unfortunately for you, your colleague Deshwar lies within the crosshairs. No, you cannot see him where you are. If you try and reach him, I will remove his ears, his lips, his eyes, his whole face—"
Lusia thumbed the implant in her arm and called up Desh's frequency. "Desh? Desh! Answer me!"
"Are you trying to contact him? All I see is a dead Coghead… or maybe he's just unconscious. Perhaps it is better if he is. You will wish Deshwar died in the explosion, Andalusia. Should he live, he will be hideous. His family will not recognise him. I needn't even bother removing his face."
Lusia swung the 350's receiver in to the vent and banged it again and again. "We are the hydra!" Spittle flew from her mouth. "Cut off a limb, three more grow in its place. Limbs with claws, with blades, with guns aimed at you, Urgraf. Your end…" Lusia's teeth ground. "Comes at the sound you will not hear. A flash of crimson light, and silence."
"You cogs. Placing so much faith in the strength of your fancy machines. How easy it was to break Deshwar's body. Was he a kind man, once? A funny man? Did he donate to help the critically ill?"
"I'm not talking about Desh with you, fucker." Lusia spat out the word. "Let him go! He's no threat to you."
"All that flesh ripped away in the name of your pretend deity. That twisted faith. Do you really believe the more metal in your body, the closer you are to the Omnissiah? How long before the sentience is lost? Deshwar was close, was he not? Peel away the layers and see the soulless husk within. Andalusia, your flesh will be stripped from your body and your skeleton incinerated. Your eyes – both of them this time – will hang from their sockets. Your tongue will be torn from your mouth. Five-hundred men will mount you and leave your body soulless."
Lusia dropped the receiver in her lap and dragged her tanker helmet off her sweat-soaked head. Loose hairs stood on end. A bead of sweat edged down her temple. Keep me pinned on the roof. Twenty minutes of talking then your thugs roll in and close the noose. Lusia unfastened the flap of her holster and drew her plasma pistol. The blued muzzle turned to Lusia's brow.
"Lusia?"
"Desh?" Lusia jerked the plasma pistol away from her head and sat up. "DESH?"
"Lusia, listen to me."
"Desh, don't talk! Don't move! They've got eyes on you."
"Your comm…"
"No, they have our comms! I can't talk to you."
The voice on the 350 crackled. Lusia dove at the receiver and tucked it in her ear. "…ignore me. If you do not answer, Deshwar's remains will be tagged as non-viewable."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to sit still and listen. Be a good little cogette and listen to me. In twenty minutes, a gunship shall be on-station. My men will be aboard. Any sign of aggression or unwillingness will be met with lethal force."
"If I come with you… Desh comes too. I won't have his body left up here alone."
"Enginseer Bhogal's body is of no concern to me. If he is not dead already, he will be, come the dawn. You will walk to the winch we drop and secure yourself. If you jump before my men have you aboard, I will shoot your colleague's face off and he will join you in eternity. Twenty minutes. If you move, it will be a killshot."
"Lusiaa? Lusiaaa!"
Lusia relaxed her hold on the receiver. "Desh, stay still!"
"I can't see you."
"I'm thinking!" Lusia picked up her pistol and faced the vent. "…I'm thinking. Omnissiah." Lusia headbutted the vent.
"Where's OSEC…?"
"OSEC." Lusia kicked away the 350. "Not with you listening."
"Lusia, call OSEC."
"I CAN'T!"
"Signal them!"
Lusia popped her plasma pistol's cartridge out of the housing and slotted it back in. "Desh, trust me, okay?" The pistol's biometric scanner glowed green. Lusia lurched around the corner and straightened her arm. Bright blue plasma whizzed over to the Stancias Tower and blew a twenty-foot-wide hole in the building. Lusia swung the pistol across and loosed four more shots. Liquified ferrocrete dripped from the glowing wounds. Heat gushed from the pistol's vents. Lusia swung back in to cover and cowered. Come on, come on, set the alarms off.
The 350 crackled. "Does Deshwar's life really mean so little to you, Andalusia? Your little showing of defiance has cost him dearly."
A report bounced off the sky buildings. Lusia jumped and clutched her hissing plasma pistol to her chest. "…Desh?"
"Deshwar is now crippled for life. You did that, Andalusia."
Lusia's thumped the side of her head against the vent. "Desh? Answer me!"
"What were you trying to achieve? Get somebody's attention? Disable and dispose of that weapon. You will find it will only harm yours and Deshwar's predicament."
Bomb strikes in public areas – so what? Lusia stole a glance at the fires now burning in the banking tower. Alarms go off in a bank. Lusia licked her dry lips. People start running. "Desh, hold on! Help is on the way. DESH?"
"Are you listening to me, Andalusia? You have no choice but to listen. No-one is coming to help you."
"Ahh, that's where you're wrong."
"OSEC is not your friend. I am close with the Lord High Justice and the head Arbitrator. My word, the word of an officer and a gentleman, to yours, a cowering gear-cruncher pretending it is something it isn't."
"A commission justifies your conduct, does it? You get free reign to run riot over Orsolya…"
"Clearance to implement executive measures in all districts of Orsolya. The administration's words, not mine. We clear up the mess the enemy left last summer."
"They weren't the enemy. Down there on the ground. Just regular people, innocent people loving life."
"You'd be surprised how many cells the enemy left behind. Spies, saboteurs, sleepers. We have their names on record. Enginseer Class Two Andalusia van Callet, enemy saboteur, closed-casket burial."
"Closed casket…? Hahaha! What happened to incineration?"
"I'm not sure you understand the gravity of your situation—"
Lusia dropped the receiver and grabbed her sidearm. Jet turbines approached Polychron 7. A searchlight roved up the Stancias Tower and settled on the blazing wounds. A Valkyrie nosed through the smoke, its blunt nose facing the tower. Jet wash threw smoke between Polychron 7 and Atamani Heights. Lusia pointed her sidearm in to the sky and fired. The flash drew the searchlight away from the banking tower and over Polychron 7's roof. Lusia dropped her sidearm and waved her arms. The searchlight blinked off and on.
"Yes…" Lusia lifted the 350's receiver. "You can't shoot. If you shoot, OSEC returns fire. They'll find you."
The Valkyrie's rear hatch lowered. Helmeted crewmen stood in the cargo bay. One raised a hand. Lusia abandoned the 350 and bundled herself over to the edge of the blast zone. Jagged metal tore at the hem of her robe. Smoke brought on tears. "DESH!"
Desh lay half-naked in a pool of blood and biofluid. Tiny cloth scraps had fused to his bald, shining crown. Bone protruded from a crushed eye-socket. "Oh, God, Desh!" A shadow fell over Lusia. She recoiled from a crewman in a helmet and harness.
"Any morphia?" The crewman jabbed a finger at Desh. "ANY MORPHIA?"
"No!" Lusia ripped her respirator off. "NO!" Another crewman brought a stretcher over. The two hoisted Desh on and lifted him up. "Listen to me! There's a sniper—" The crewmen hurried Desh across the roof to the Valkyrie's ramp and slid the stretcher up to another crewman. Lusia barrelled at the ramp – four feet above the rooftop – and climbed aboard.
"How long since he got hit?" Strong arms forced Lusia in to a bucket seat and clamped a harness around her chest. A bulbous visor thrust itself in Lusia's face. "Hey! How long since he got hit?"
"Er, hour and a half plus ten." Lusia's head drooped. "They sho—they shot him."
The two rescuers kneeled over Desh's stretcher. One unzipped a first aid kit and twisted the cap off an injector. Lusia ran her nails down her cheek and dragged at her stinging skin. Smoke cleared from the rear hatch. Black pillars dotted the lower district. Bright suns at the heart of every inferno. All this. All those people.
A door-gunner slumped over his weapon. Blood poured from beneath a large crack in his visor. "NO!" Lusia wrenched at her harness. Light shot through a hole in the fuselage. A bullet glanced off the bulkhead. The crewmen hunched their shoulders and twisted.
"What the fuck's going on?"
Hammers banged along the Valkyrie's fuselage. Shafts shone inside the cargo bay. A crewman grabbed at his bleeding arm and shouted.
"Who's shooting at us?" The other threw himself over Desh's body.
"Atamani!" Lusia pumped her arm at the open hatch. "HE'S IN ATAMANI!"
An engine exploded. The district whirled. Turbines screamed. Smoke filled the cargo bay. The crewmen tumbled against the perforated bulkheads and clung to the netting. Lusia gripped her harness and squeezed her eyes shut.
The Governor's Palace, Upper Gorev
Glowing crosshairs followed the spiralling Valkyrie in its descent to the ground. Propellant poured from the vents in the rifle's muzzle brake. "Sir, eight hits, OSEC airship. Good effect on target."
"Confirm crash site?" Obrist Robert Bertel Holbein lounged in the red-lit VIP area surrounded by his staff officers and their companions. The feed relayed in to an ocular mount, giving the Obrist the sniper's view of the target.
"Sir, two blocks west of Brunzmann Stadium. North-west corner."
"Confirm?"
"Confirmed, sir. Airship is intact. No fire."
"I want five teams locking down the area around the crash site. Four on perimeter, one for snatch detail."
"Roger that, sir. OSEC is initiating their own lockdown of Lower Gorev. It might impede—"
"I'll worry about OSEC, Captain. Bring me that enginseer dead or alive. You have control." The Obrist nudged his 2IC's elbow. Major Kreber shooed away his companion and did up his jacket.
"Toast, sir?" Kreber reached for his glass.
"Belay for now, Ernst. If you'd be so kind as to convey the Obrist's compliments to the Lord High Justice…"
Kreber patted an envelope filled with Rako inside his jacket. "Most generous compliments too, I might add."
"Mmm, and just make it clear to him that I want no trouble with OSEC tonight. Invoke Governor Jagoda's name if you have to."
"Very good, Obrist." Kreber wavered in the alcohol-reeking lounge and made his way around the tables packed with dignitaries, socialites, high-ranking PDF officers and OSEC officials. The Obrist waved a courtesan in sheer silk away and picked up his glass and refilled it with amasec.
"No trouble tonight then, Obrist?" The man in grey at the Obrist's shoulder held his glass out.
Amasec tinkled. "Nothing but profit. My thanks for the tip-off. I have long fantasied the liquidation of Ephraim Zeljko's murderer, and I look forward to hearing the secrets your young man squeezes from that harlot too."
"Patience, my good man. Espionage is a slow dance, not a quickstep. We will hear soon enough." Commander Sorge raised his glass. "Here's to the liquidation of mutual enemies."
"Likewise, Commander. Here's to mutual benefit." Glasses clinked.