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Chapter 41

Book 1 — Chapter 41

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Day: Hynjia

Date: 26

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Melchior


 

Miles felt the warmth roll over him in gentle waves as Raer’s hand moved up and down his back in a comforting touch. As he pulled away from the embrace, he held her at arm’s length and let his voice come forward in a tone of marvel. 

 

“You give the absolute best hugs.” 

 

“I’ve had lots of practice,” Raer commented with a smile. 

 

“Between you, Ash, and Wayra being prone to platonic physicality, y’all are healing some trauma in me,” he joked as he sat on the stool behind the bar. He had to admit internally that there was some truth in his words. These people he had surrounded himself with were generous with attention and friendly affection — and there was genuine healing in that. 

 

But as he settled, he didn’t meditate further and focused on Raer — who, after hugging Wayra, sat on the other side of the bar in front of him. She tossed a large tote bag to the bar top and let out a satisfied sigh. 

 

“I know what that tote’s for,” Wayra noted in an eager tone. “What did you bring for us?”

 

“Tons,” Raer responded as she unzipped the tote and rummaged through it.

 

“Did I hear we have a goodie delivery?” Akiva called excitedly as she exited the kitchen with a bowl of food in hand. 

 

He chuckled as Akiva hurried next to him and sat on ‘her’ seat, tossed the bowl to the bar with a clank and wrung her hands in anticipation. 

 

“You heard correctly,” Raer confirmed as she continued to rummage. Upon finding what she had been looking for, she pulled from the tote a brown-paper-wrapped collection as she continued. “Since you’re raring, Akiva, here are the things I promised you.” 

 

Another chuckle came forwards as Akiva, with only a squeal of delight, snatched the brown-paper package from Raer, jumped from her seat, and bounded down to the end of the bar as she clarified her movements. 

 

“Don’t want to get my new stuff dirty around the food and drink.” 

 

As Akiva ripped the paper open, she pulled the first shirt from the package as gasped with excitement. With another bound, she moved into the vestibule, turned her back to them, and started to undress.

 

He averted his eyes back to Raer, as he didn’t want to impede on Akiva’s privacy, and asked with a tease. 

 

“You got anything for me in there?” 

 

“Actually I do,” Raer replied as she pulled another large paper-wrapped package out, though she turned her attention to Wayra as she continued. “This is for Naira. She’s growing so fast. I was able to get some nicer donations shipped down from Mindis. Things for winter and her winter school uniform. I’ll have to do a couple alterations, but I will do that a bit later … before she needs them for school.” 

 

“It’s perfect!” Akiva called out as she skipped towards them, stopped, and spun around, showing everyone the shirt from all angles. “Next one!” 

 

As Akiva bounced away again to change, he returned his attention to Raer, who with a smile of pride washed across her face, returned to the tote bag and continued. 

 

“I knitted some specialty scarves.” 

 

“I was made aware,” Wayra affirmed with a grin. “And, since the pub is closed right now, I’d be obliged if you were to inform Miles.” 

 

He felt his interest pique as Raer asked. 

 

“Do you know anything about knitting?” 

 

“I know near nothing about the fabric arts,” he admitted. 

 

“Well,” Raer paused as she glanced toward the ceiling in thought, seemingly searching for a way to explain what made these particular knits special. But as something came to mind, she grinned with a nod to her mind and explained. “You’re a programmer, so this abstraction may suffice. Technically, there are two basic stitches: a knit and a purl. And yes, for the fussy, there are arguably more than that, such as a drop stitch or a yarn over, et cetera. But that’s not usually relevant to these scarves. In programming, the basics are numerical: 0’s and 1’s. Think of knits as the 0’s and purls as the 1’s. Granted, it’s not a one-to-one, but it’s the same premise. You use those 0’s and 1’s to create letters, symbols, numbers. For those who make these special specialty scarves, we do the same. Only, we use combinations of the knits and purls to supply information for those who can read the sequence.” 

 

He felt his jaw drop with awe, as Raer pulled from the tote bag a grey scarf, handed it to him, and continued. 

 

“Since you’re going to be active in certain operations, I made you a scarf with your information on it. Think of it as a sort of ID card. So if anything nefarious happens — as in, you’re picked up aggressively off the street — you can drop the scarf with the hopes that someone in the know will find it and notify us.”

 

“Picked up aggressively. So, like abducted by HEAGEN?” he asked rhetorically. 

 

“Winter is a difficult time for us,” Wayra noted with a sigh. “It seems with people more frequently staying indoors, there are fewer eyes to witness HEAGEN doing what they do. The colder months do unfortunately produce an uptick in missing persons within the organization. These scarves have informed and have saved lives. Just not as many as I wish.” 

 

His own sigh came to him, as the weight of Wayra’s words pushed his head down to examine the scarf. It was genuinely a very nice one on the surface. A plush chunky yarn that was manipulated into a pillowy-soft cushion of warmth and protection in a design that was aesthetically pleasing to the eye. But its utilitarian purpose cast an ugliness on it. One that made his lips purse in worry, as the reality of what he was now a part of was particularly acute. It was a strange feeling; he consciously knew that being part of Idemere and their goals would not be some adventure story from his youth. This was the real world with real consequences, and being part of Idemere was going to be messy. However, the ‘messy’ always seemed far and away — like something that happened to other people. Yet, moments like these were sober reminders he was just as much an ‘other people’ as anyone. To which something very messy could happen. 

 

Though, in what felt like a strange response that brought a grin to his face, the seriousness of what was before him and in his mind didn’t have the effect he expected. He anticipated his resolve would have waived, facing such grim potentials. Instead, his determination remained — if not grew. He supposed it was the stubbornness in him. But perhaps moreso, it was a life filled with messy and ugly that informed him; he could handle this, too. 

 

“Raer,” he spoke as he lifted his head from the scarf to her. “Thank you so much for this. I appreciate your work in protecting me.” 

 

“You’re most welcome,” Raer nodded with a shy smile. “It’s just one example of some of the things I do for the cause. If you’re lucky, you’ll get one of my striped cardigan coats. Those are near novels with all the information they provide, as it’s not just the knit, the colors and stripe patterns are readable as well.” 

 

“I can’t get over how many tangible, analog methods you have for relaying information. I have so much to learn,” he attested with a slightly dazed inflection.

 

“And you will,” Wayra assured in an encouraging voice. “There is a whole cookbook of recipes for resistance that you’ll become acquainted with. It takes time, but soon enough, you’ll be pulling a brick from a building and retrieving a note or bouncing your knuckles on a bar top in a pattern that to the untrained sounds like a song, but is part of a full conversation.” 

 

“I like that … recipes for resistance,” he noted with a chuckle. “So those scarves, what are they for?” 

 

“Codes,” Raer responded. “Though I don’t know for what. Sometimes it’s viewed as better for people like myself not to know the whole of the information. For deniability and safety reasons. But indeed, I was given some access codes for what I assumed is for entrance or whatever, and my part was to translate them into the scarf you see. But they were so much easier to make as I did those on a rake-loom.”

 

“Actually,” Wayra interjected. “You’ll need to know this too, in case I’m not around when it happens. Over the next couple days, some people will come in saying they left a scarf here, and if we have a lost and found. There will be some general conversation, but at one point they will say precisely, ‘As the saying goes: nothing is lost where hope shall be found.’ From there, ask them the color of the scarf, and give them the one they request.”

 

“I’ll do that,” he agreed with a breathy voice as the weight of his reality pushed on his chest.

 

But such actualities didn’t linger in his mind as his attention was quickly drawn to Akiva, who announced with pride. 

 

“I’m ready to take on the world in this!” 

 

He felt a grin of attraction come to his face, as Akiva was wearing a well-fitting knit shirt that featured what looked to be leather armguards and an abdomen guard. With her hair pulled up in a tail, it allowed the collar of the shirt to frame her neck in a manner that was alluring to him. Further, the shirt itself not only looked practical, but contoured Akiva in a way that raised his pulse. 

 

As another breathy voice came out, he let his admiration be known. 

 

“Ooohooo! You look … damn! So tough! Seriously, tough works on you. I mean … damn!” 

 

“Sena Doru,” Akiva responded in a sing-song cadence. “I do believe you are flirting with me.” 

 

“I do believe you’re right,” he replied with a chuckle to Akiva’s voice rising and falling.

 

“Yeah, I know. I look gilt-edged and polished. However, I’m eager to test these out,” Akiva stated as she continued with an order. “And you’re going to help me. Go grab your sword. We’re going to the Boneyard.” 

 

• • •

 

“So how did you get Raer talked into using leather for those?” he asked as he gestured in the general direction of Akiva’s guards, which were now covered by a half-poncho.

 

“Raer may lean on the vegetarian side, but she’s not fanatical. I mean, if someone offers her meat as their only means of food, she’ll accept it in the spirit of generosity it was given and eat it. This expands to the practice of respecting other people’s wishes. If they want meat, want to use leather, it’s respected. Nevertheless, it doesn’t apply in this case. They’re not made of leather. They’re made with a poly-composite for high impact,” Akiva explained in a hushed tone. 

 

He felt his mouth gape with a gasp as he asked. 

 

“Whoa, whoa wait. Are you on register? Like the ultra-high-molecular kind? Where did you get the money for those?” he inquired with booming shock.

 

“Shhh!” she scolded in a suppressed voice. “Watch your volume! Not to be all currish, but damn. I’d like to keep these and you might make that hard … announcing to everyone in a one-kilometer radius what I have on me.”

 

His hand went up in concession as he acknowledged his indiscretion on a more suitable level. 

 

“No, no. You’re right. That’s on me. My volume can be directly correlated to my excitement-slash-awe. I need to be more mindful of that.” 

 

“Well, most people’s volume increases with enthusiasm,” she admitted. “But back on topic, they are the ultra-light composite ones you’re thinking of. I’m guessing part of your disbelief is how I could afford such.” 

 

“You guess correctly,” he confirmed with a chuckle. 

 

“You’ll come to find I have some excellent connections. In this case, family connections that provided me with such,” she explained with a grin.

 

He nodded in response. But internally, he debated if he should enquire further, as in his mind, it wasn’t in good taste to discuss finances — especially of those of family — in a candid manner. At least not with people with whom he was still building a friendship with. Though given how he was familiar with how incredibly expensive the guards were, his curiosity was getting the best of him. But as the silence was lingering, apparently with Akiva waiting for him to respond, he stuck with a safe response and offered. 

 

“It’s good you have such a supportive family.” 

 

His eyes returned to Akiva, who laughed aloud with vigor, shaking her head as she clapped her hands in enjoyment and remarked. 

 

“You’re so damn cute! Trying to tip-toe around what information I just gave you and not be crass. So cute! However, I do give you permission to ask away, as I’m willing to share.” 

 

“Okay, yeah no,” he chuckled with a slight embarrassment at Akiva’s words of him being ‘cute.’ “I trust your family is incredibly wealthy.” 

 

“Wealth, as in money, is a strange matter to Watzeens,” she observed with a sigh. “Not all Watzeens, mind you, as Shuju’a Watzeens don’t seem to be as indifferent to wealth as those on Moree. On Moree, we have all our needs taken care of and the hoarding of any kind of monetary wealth is kinda viewed as a mental illness. Not that Watzeens don’t save for those rainy days. But anything in blatant excess is seen as psychosis … paranoia.” 

 

“Far be it for me to judge, but what if you want to purchase anything from us sea-level folks?” he asked with full curiosity in his voice. 

 

“Of course the Moree Watzeen deal in commerce, buying stuff from y’all down here,” she explained. “But to us, true wealth doesn’t come from relits or scrips. It comes from knowledge, information, and exposures. In the case of my family, you’ll find out sooner or later, they are relatively important. But their position in our society isn’t based on them being more monetarily wealthy than their counterparts; they are just average. What they are wealthy in is information. It wasn’t money that bought these guards for me, it was information that was important to the right people and this was their fee.” 

 

“Shit. That’s some damn exceptional information,” he marveled, as he couldn’t fathom what knowledge provided would equate to such tangible goods.

 

“It was. It is. But said information doesn’t end with just what they gave,” she noted with a chuckle. “I have to do my own part. I’m to field-test these, as this is a new design, and report on how they perform. Which brings us to just around this corner.”

 

As they turned a corner, his attention was drawn to the view before him. It was a scene that was distinct from the space they had just left — one of closely situated buildings that blocked the sky from anything other than looking directly up. However, now the sky was open, as most of the buildings had disappeared into the far background — sans the ones lining the road. In the buildings’ place was a large fence that stretched in two directions from his vantage. Going further than his eyes could see. The sight was clashing with his expectations. But such thoughts didn’t have time to hold, as Akiva began to account for what was before him. 

 

“Welcome to the Boneyard. Beyond that fence is the city’s heavy scrapyard. It was the original dump before the city expanded around it. They moved the trash and recycling northeast of here, but this remained. As the city got poorer, people began to scavenge more, as it was less expensive; ‘cause sometimes it’s better to just spend a couple hours going through tossed equipment to find a decent pin-type coupling than it is to buy one.” 

 

“That makes perfect sense. I’ve dug my way through an STV junkyard a couple times looking for a part,” he acknowledged, though he let his pitch rise as he questioned. “But we’re not here for parts, correct? And given you said you want to take those for a test run?” 

 

He paused as he looked at Akiva and raised his eyebrows in question. She grinned in a sly manner, apparently suspecting he was speaking from a deductive perspective. But she did not let his comment linger in the inferred, as she relayed knowingly.

 

“The Boneyard has become an unofficial city gymnasium for all those who the owner lets in. I mean, it’s still a working junkyard, and because of that, ever changing. But in certain parts of it, they have homemade weights, improvised machines, an obstacle course, and some areas for practice sparring. And while I’m sure Keeffe will be all good with you being a gym member, be advised he is really strict about how you talk about it in public. Which means be discrete. There are an ass-ton of rules that you have to follow. One being you have to enter at the scrap entrance, because they have an entrance booth and office right when you go in. You kinda have to pass through it in a way, so that they can keep an eye on who comes and goes. That’s why I’m not just flying in; keeping it respectful. Too, if you get hurt there, you didn’t get hurt there. If that makes sense. But he will go over a bunch when we get there. Got it?” 

 

He felt his excitement rise as it had been many days since he had been able to workout. Aside from some bodyweight exercises in his room, he hadn’t been able to really push his muscles in the way they craved, and the prospect of being able to indulge in such was prompting him to grin from ear to ear. A grin Akiva acknowledged, as her grin increased and her eyebrows raised in waiting for his response. One he gave with an excitement in his voice. 

 

“Got it!” 

 

• • •

 

He looked at Keeffe, the owner of the ‘Boneyard,’ as he asked in a serious tone. 

 

“And you’re sure you’re all caught up on your vaccines? Especially your dapta. Because if you get cut playing around here, you’re gonna have a very bad following weeks.” 

 

“I’m positive,” he assured him with a firm voice. 

 

He watched as Keeffe looked him up and down, seemingly trying to gauge him. It was, what felt to him, a tense couple of moments. 

 

Keeffe was an older Hume: one whose years were only evident by the lines in his face. Otherwise, he was a relatively handsome one who appeared to be the picture of health and strength, as his body-builder physique was easily visible through his clothing. Keeffe was also a taller Hume, with easily 190 centimeters on him, though he carried himself with such presence, he could have been much taller than he estimated. 

 

But his own observation was cut short, as Keeffe continued his stern disposition. 

 

“Being here with Akiva doesn’t make you certified by default. Akiva likes to think she only associates with the best, but she’s not infallible in her choice of associates.” 

 

“How dare,” Akiva retorted in mock irritation towards Keeffe; she scowled heavily, though her mouth was turned up slightly at the corners. 

 

It was the mock part that elicited a grin from Keeffe, as he rolled his eyes and shook his head, seemingly trying not to let Akiva charm him. Yet, it seemed he wasn’t impervious to said charms, as he released a sigh of resignation as he spoke. 

 

“Fine. But keep in mind the following. What I say goes without justification. If I want to be an ass, just for the sake of being an ass, that’s my prerogative. Myself or my staff can kick you out permanently at our discretion without warning or explanation. Don’t come without someone established for a while ‘till all my staff knows your face. Don’t be blabbing about what goes on here; I have enough shit from HEAGEN without help from who can’t shut up. There are two entrances. The industrial entrance and the scrap entrance you’re at now. You are only to use the scrap entrance. Speaking of industrial, another thing to keep in mind is this place is a working yard. You stay far away from the foundry furnace building and all its associated buildings. Learn the sirens, because sometimes things go awry and you will have to heed the warnings when those sirens are blaring. Akiva, that’s on you to teach him. You’re wholly responsible for yourself and your own safety, and we will disavow you if need be. Lastly, part of your, what we call gym memberships, includes you’re expected to contribute to updating the gym. If people have a new idea for makeshift equipment, we want to see you do your part and help put it together now and then. None of us are here to babysit you, so we won’t be keeping tabs on how much you contribute, but if we hear more than a couple complaints, you’re not putting in effort, you’re out. Finally, there is a cover charge, ‘cause I’m not a charity. One relit per visit. Can you agree to all of that, plus anything else I pull out of my ass at a later date?” 

 

“I agree,” he responded with a small grin as while Keeffe was presenting himself as rigid and severe, he was already seeing the cracks in the facade and figured he was actually a kind and warm person. 

 

“Welcome in, then,” Keeffe offered with only a hint of a smile. “Now get out of my office. I’ve got shit to do.” 

 

“You’re the best, as always,” Akiva gushed with genuine happiness as they both turned to leave. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Keeffe responded with an emphasized pitch of bother, trying to disguise the happiness behind his perceived vexation.

 

• • •

 

He pushed the last rep out of his set with a grunt and put the bar back to its holder. As he sat up, he turned at the waist and looked at the woman who had requested to spot him as he did his bench presses. 

 

“Do you want me to spot for you?” he asked, wanting to return the favor. 

 

“Yeah,” she replied as she looked around. “But let me find some extra weight, as I’m going for a five-set single-rep max. Be right back.” 

 

As the woman walked away, he stood from his seated position and looked around as he moved his arms behind his back in an effort to stretch his pectoralis. Though in his honest mind, he was finding it difficult to concentrate on his workout, as even an hour into it, he was still in marvel at the makeshift gym, and all its equipment before him. 

 

The “gym” had nearly everything one could want, all fashioned from various materials and elements. Free weights made from cement, poured into whatever mold was available at the time; their weight labeled with fingers written into the drying medium and brought together with scrap bars. Machines built from old wood pallets and other scrap woods using cable pulleys, ropes, and levers to increase resistance. Even old balls filled with worn down ball bearings to make slam balls. At least 50 different machines or setups with hundreds of different weights in various containers and forms that provided for almost all levels of fitness. It was an exercise in inventiveness that gave him a pump of energy just being around it. 

 

Further, the people who were using the equipment, thus far, had been highly agreeable. All being respectful, encouraging, and helpful when needed. More than once that day, he was trying to figure out how to use a piece of equipment or looking for a weight, and more than one person stepped forward to help. 

 

He wasn’t just scratching an itch to work his muscles; it sated a craving he didn’t know he was missing. To be amongst the sociocultural surrounding of fitness, and the values associated with it. Such was another piece of the awe he was feeling: to see despite the poverty about him, the attitudes that made him appreciate the gym community could be found near universally. 

 

However, despite all his admiration for what he was seeing and experiencing, it also came with a healthy dose of indignation. 

 

This was emphasized when he again stretched — his arms raising to the sky — took a deep breath, and felt his nose scrunch, as the reality of the place couldn’t be ignored. While it was an act of genius, the “gym” being outdoors was definitely a drawback. He supposed that was why it was so busy — everyone taking advantage of a good day to get a full workout in. Too, its location, and proximity to the furnaces, definitely could be observed, as chemical and industrial smells were prominent. 

 

It was a moment that brought a light huff to his lips; being from Udo, it was a reality of poverty that few outside it could understand. That even when you were doing everything properly — working your hardest to be of healthy body — you had to labor twice as hard as those who were better off. For it wasn’t just the extra time and effort you had to put in to achieve the results of your more-advantaged contemporaries; you had to put in twice the work to offset the ill-effects of your environment. From poor air and water, to subpar foods that seemed to actively work against your ventures, it was a reality of the penury.

 

For him, as someone who had been reasonably on both sides, it was always one of the starker contrasts to living. How being poor was not just more physically, mentally, and emotionally demanding; it was far more expensive and more time consuming, too. Just being there, looking at the homemade equipment, was a testament to that. How one couldn’t just purchase their free weights, they had to spend untold hours sourcing and making theirs — labor that was far more demanding physically and mentally than what many experienced. 

 

Of course, this was not to say he didn’t work hard when he was in Hylaton. But he was cognizant he worked much harder as a resident of Udo, and now Melchior. Again, just a reality that few outside of living it could understand. 

 

But it was an ebb and flow of awe and ire that he tried to reign in; he didn’t want to bring himself off the endorphins that were pumping through him. He brought himself back to the moment and noticed the woman who had spotted him returning with the “weights” she was looking for. In this case, two sets of four bottles that looked to have sand in them. The bottles — placed together two-by-two and wrapped in electrical tape — were shaped so as to provide a “hole” in the middle to which she could slide onto the bar, increasing its overall weight. 

 

As he moved into position at the bar to spot, the woman offered an apology as she took her position on the bench. 

 

“Sorry that took so long. Appreciate you waiting.” 

 

“Happy to help,” he replied with a smile, hoping it would give his sentiment an openness to ease any sincere concern she might have been holding. 

 

It was a smile that was well received and returned as she got herself into position, placed her hands on the bar above her, and instructed firmly. 

 

“Ready.” 

 

• • •

 

“Hey. You ready?” Akiva asked over his shoulder, startling him. 

 

As he put the weight down, he let out a breath of exertion and asked. 

 

“Ready to go home? Followup question: where have you been? You disappeared like 90 minutes ago.” 

 

Akiva picked up the weight with little effort — exhibiting how Watzeens were just naturally strong — and moved to put back to the makeshift rack as she explained. 

 

“Nah. We’re not going home yet. To your other question, I went back to bother Keeffe, hang out with him for a while. I wanted to conserve my energy for what we’re doing next, and knew once you got in here, you would be fine without me.”

 

Akiva gestured to follow as they walked toward, what he was guessing, was the center part of the Boneyard as they moved away from fence lines and down wide makeshift passages that were only defined by the edging of the piles of junk about them. With several turns already made in their short walk, he was becoming disoriented where they were in relation to the entrance. A daze that prompted him to ask. 

 

“Getting a little lost here. Where are we going and why?” 

 

“Yeah, this place can be a little confusing,” Akiva admitted as she stopped their progress and pointed towards a tall pole in the near distance. “If you ever get turned around in here, just look for that pole. It’s at the entrance and as long as it’s getting closer, you’re going the right way.” 

 

As she turned and continued forward to the unknown destination, she further elaborated on his question. 

 

“The Boneyard, as a means to which we are here to use it, is broken up into three areas. One, the gym, which is nearest the entrance along the fence line as you saw. Done so people can come and go, as that’s why most people are here. Two, the obstacle course, which is a little further up beyond the gym part. Consider it an extension of the gym. And three, where we are headed: sparring areas. They are situated further in to keep prying eyes from seeing who is practicing with what. Because while carrying a weapon for defense isn’t illegal, that’s not a deterrent from HEAGEN punishing those who are attempting to become adept at wielding said weapon.” 

 

He felt his stomach sink to her words. Not only from the logic — knowing HEAGEN would interpret any kind of weapons training as a direct threat to them — but from the prospect of having to spar after such an intense lifting session. It was the latter that pushed his breath out with a vocal sigh as he admitted. 

 

“I don’t think I’m up to sparring practice. I’m pretty beat already.” 

 

“And that is why this is the perfect time,” she asserted with a chirp. “Hear me out. You’re going to find, as part of Idemere, that your first job is to evade. Only when you’ve run out of options do you engage. This is the real world application of that. Your lifting was the evasion part. The climbing over fences: pull-ups. The pushing and pulling doors open and closed: chest presses and rows. The moving of large items to create barriers: deadlifts. Now we’re on to the engagement part. Where you’re tired from running and using all those lifting muscles. This isn’t just practice for your new sword; this is a way for you to gauge where you need to be fighting- and stamina-wise.” 

 

He felt himself blink as his mind processed her words and an immense amount of regard washed over him. A respect that cascaded in him reflexively, as her reasoning was flawless. It was such a moment of awareness that it stirred up a laugh of amazement and playful derision, as he both praised and asked in a teasing tone. 

 

“I’m all astonishment. That logic is irrefutable. Though I have to poke you; how is it you can justify yourself not lifting if this is part of the evasion?” 

 

“Why should you be astonished?” she asked with a laugh. “I keep telling you we Watzeens are masters of games. And this … this is strategy. And nothing is more game-adjacent than strategy. Further, we need to get some protein in you. Your brain is getting squishy. I mean really, think about it. I can fly. There’s not much more evasive than someone who can disappear into the sky. And if someone can stop me from flying off, then we’re well past the avoidance stage. We’re on to the engagement.” 

 

“Dear Deo, I’m so damn dumb today,” he admitted with a laugh as the line of reasoning was, again, undeniably sound. 

 

“Ah, you’re just out of practice,” she encouraged him with a pat on the back. “Goes to show how damn hard you lifted. Intense exertion can lead to mental fatigue. So you get a pass on that today. But this is what I was talking about. This is the real world application of what you’ll be up against. What you need to focus on for when you are in a position that you have to defend yourself against others and HEAGEN.” 

 

He nodded and permitted himself to take the excuse she had given him. And perhaps it wasn’t just an excuse. Perhaps he was simply out of practice and had exhausted himself to cerebral lethargy. But said rationalization would only be permissible for a short duration in his eyes. He knew that such lenity would not be afforded to him if he was to encounter anyone on aggressive terms. As part of Idemere, he not only had a lot to learn; he had to elevate himself to a point of physical and mental fortitude he hadn’t yet experienced. And given his experiences, it was another point to his thoughts from earlier that day — he was an ‘other’ that something messy could happen to — and the best way he could avoid said messy was to prepare for its inevitability. 

 

• • •

 

He opened his eyes as the knock on the door garnered his attention and brought him back from his meditative state. 

 

“I’m in here,” he announced with a call, trying to raise his voice over the sound of the beating water against the tile from the shower he was taking. 

 

“Miles,” Ash’s voice returned with its own elevated pitch as she apparently peaked her head into the door. “I know you’re in the shower closet. And you know I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t urgent. But my lower tummy is giving me a hard time, and Akiva is in the other bathroom and she locked the main door. Can I use the water closet?” 

 

“Of course,” he responded with an encouraging voice, “it’s no problem at all.” 

 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You’re a lifesaver and the very best,” she exclaimed with a relieved voice. 

 

He grinned at the exaggerated, but kind, compliment that was extended to him. He tried to offset the light flush that was rising to his cheeks as he again spoke over the water running. 

 

“Yeah, no. It’s really not a big deal. With the shower and toilet being in their own compartments, you still have concealment. But I don’t know. Maybe I’m habituated from staying in a dorm for so long during my youth. I’m desensitized from unmitigated privacy.”

 

The smile returned when he heard a knock on the wall against his back, as Ash, who was in the adjoining compartment, spoke in a cheerful tone. 

 

“Hi neighbor! And that makes sense. Being you’ve had a history of communal living, you’re more relaxed when it comes to sharing spaces. You would think Akiva would be more relaxed too, given how long she has lived here. I mean, she has literally walked about topless looking for a shirt. But when it comes to her showers, she demands total seclusion.” 

 

He chuckled at Ash’s observation and nodded, as he could imagine Akiva being so brash and yet, so contradictory. But as he had nothing to add, he brought his ankle to his knee and sighed, as he was admittedly well past done from his needed shower, with his hair washed and body scrubbed. Now, he was sitting on the shower bench letting the water run over him, hoping to simulate a therapeutic hydrotherapy massage for his sore muscles. However, given the lack of pressure, the shower was more akin to standing in the rain. 

 

His eyes came to the vise-grip pliers, which were substituting for a handle to the shower valve that controlled the water flow. An unfortunately needed improvisation, as it appeared the handle had broken some time ago. And the pliers, by the way of their size, would only allow the valve to turn so far before they came into contact with the exposed piping. He released a sigh as he spoke aloud. 

 

“I’ve got to do something about this, Ash. I can’t function in this.” 

 

He leaned his head back on the shower wall and waited for a response. One that took several moments as she asked in a careful tone. 

 

“In what context? As in … are you leaving?”

 

“No. No!” he assured her with emphasis. Though, as he quickly assessed the phrasing of his words, he realized how easily they could have been misconstrued. “I’m sorry. I’ve had brain fog since I was at the Boneyard and didn’t articulate myself properly; was being dramatic. I was referencing these pliers on this shower valve. They’re irritating me, as they prevent me from turning the water pressure up and I’m sore as all get out. I was just thinking I should probably sell something out of my storage so I can get a proper replacement. Was going to ask you for advice on what might sell best.”

 

“You ass!” she called out with feigned anger. “You made my already turning tummy turn even harder! That scared me! I’ve gotten ridiculously attached to you and it would break my heart if you were to leave. Dear Deo!” 

 

He couldn’t help but laugh, as he could easily hear her huff in frustration and mutter under her breath due to his less-than-comprehensible descriptive of his thoughts. They were laughs that only increased as she continued. 

 

“And yes, I will help you figure out what to sell. If only so you can fix the valve, and then I can use those pliers to beat you with them. I’m not kidding. You scared me.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” he declared around the laughter. 

 

“You’re forgiven. This time,” she again spoke in exaggerated anger. “As part of your penance, tell me how your training went.” 

 

“It was eye-opening, but good,” he admitted as he reached for the water temperature valve and increased the cold water, as he always ended his showers with a cold water spray. As the water temperature rapidly dropped, he inhaled sharply from its effects and continued. “Arwel joined us, as Akiva believed I would go too easy on her. She wasn’t wrong, as I couldn’t bring myself to engage her with my full effort. Was surprised; she doesn’t carry a weapon. Just grabs whatever’s around. And honestly, is quite effective with anything from a stick to a pan. She’s versatile.”

 

He turned off the water, stood, and moved out of the shower proper into the dressing compartment, where his towels and clothing were waiting. As he dried himself, he heard the seat faucet activate, shortly followed by the flushing. He placed the towel to the dressing bench and sat on it, as he could see Ash’s general figure move to the sink and turn it on through the frosted glass door of the compartment. 

 

“I had a feeling you would like it,” she commented as she finished washing her hands. “You struck me as someone who appreciates functional strength over aesthetics. Though I’m sure that’s a perk.” 

 

He continued to watch through the frosted glass door as Ash turned and leaned against the sink and returned to her thoughts. 

 

“Wayra was so pleased you took the sword; felt it couldn’t have been in better hands. He already thinks the world of you. We were discussing you the other day, between us. I was commenting on your intelligence and he was speaking of your physical abilities. It reminded me of an ancient Hume saying, from your world. Something to the effect of: one shouldn’t relegate themselves to either being a scholar or a warrior, lest the people have themselves led by cowards and protected by fools. It seemed to embody you, as you choose to be both.” 

 

“I …” he paused as the flush to his cheeks and neck were rising with the praise being granted him. “I’ve honestly never been acquainted with such a saying. However, I will admit I have those parallel thoughts. And it’s something I have strived for; to be as strong as I can in both body and mind. But you’re far too kind. I’m still ages away from where I want to be, especially in the third and just as important aspect: the emotional intelligence.” 

 

“You claim I’m being far too kind, when I would say you’re being far too modest,” she commented with a chuckle and continued in a teasing pitch. “Though I understand your desire to be reserved and will temper my adulation. … However, in all seriousness, your coming here has sparked something in Wayra. He’s inspired by you. As if your presence has brought him hope that everything will work out. I … I don’t say that to put any undue pressure on you. Only to illustrate how much you’re appreciated. Again, don’t want to place any pressure of expectations on you.”

 

“There are none,” he stated firmly. “I regard Wayra, beyond his Attata sights, as an intelligent, thinking man. I know he would never ascribe some kind of hero status to me. Whatever he has seen, that everything is going to work out, isn’t only dependent on me. At best, my being here has increased its chances. I’m comfortable with that. Because with everything that appears to be coming, it’s going to take every available effort, no matter how small, to turn this tide from objective evil to justice, truth, and promise.”​

Book 1 — Chapter 42

​

Day: Hynjia

Date: 26

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Melchior


 

Ash felt her eyebrows raise as she sat to one of the seats behind the bar and listened to the continued argument between Akiva and Matu. It was one that had grown in intensity, as Akiva was arguing against Matu’s chosen — as Akiva had phrased it — life of dissociation. Though as the argument had continued, she was beginning to see Raer’s point of view: that Akiva would eventually circle back to Matu in the relationship department. For she could read between the words, see the signs, and feel the tension they both exhibited towards each other. 

 

Her thoughts were drawn as Matu rolled his eyes heavily and spoke in a deeply sardonic tone. 

 

“Oh yeah. You would know better, Akiva. ‘Cause living my low-key life, free from y’all’s mass psychosis, is so lame.”

 

She looked at Akiva, who scowled and towards Matu and spoke in a low mutter. 

 

“You’d better turn yourself around and find something to do in that kitchen, lest you want me to jump over this bar and beat your ass right now.” 

 

She tried not to smile as she rubbed her lips together and looked at Wayra, who was sitting at the bar next to Raer, as he released a breath of resignation. He, apparently knowing Akiva was serious, injected himself into the conversation and spoke in a firm voice. 

 

“Actually, Matu. I would appreciate it if you could get started on some of the meal offerings for the night. The soup takes a while to make, and Arwel won’t be here to cover till after we leave.” 

 

Matu turned without a word and moved into the kitchen, ending the tense conversation. 

 

However, Akiva’s anger had not been alleviated by his departure; she leaned back on the stool, quickly unfurled her wings, raised them, and pulled them down in a swoosh as she called in frustration.

 

It was a sudden rush of air that was so pronounced in its strength — it caused many items, including pub glasses — to be moved from their static position as items blew, slid, and toppled from the force. 

 

“Okay, okay,” Wayra spoke in a gentle voice. “You know I don’t like to get involved in your personal affairs. If you want to fight, that’s your business. But if it spills over to damaging the pub, then I will insert myself.” 

 

She looked at Akiva, whose wings slowly came slowly back in, and she grunted with continued aggravation and spoke in a low tone. 

 

“That man is intolerable. And audacious. And …” 

 

But before Akiva could finish her thoughts, Matu emerged from the kitchen, a dish towel in hand that he wrung with apparent anger as he spoke in a raised voice toward Akiva. 

 

“I’m not going to apologize for being honest. If you can’t handle the fact honesty is brutal, that’s on you.” 

 

“Matu,” Raer spoke in a firm voice as she placed her hand on Akiva’s, in what appeared to be an attempt to calm her. “Honesty doesn’t have to be brutal. I find that people who believe you have to be brutally honest are simply projecting. It isn’t something to be proud of. It takes more effort, more intelligence, more investment when you’re kindly honest.” 

 

“Are you saying, me being brutally honest, is me being lazy and stupid?” Matu asked with a pitch of increased anger. 

 

“What I’m kindly pointing out is quote, brutal honesty, end quote, are these things. However, don’t mistake my words. You’re not lazy. You’re not stupid. Only, we all have moments where we lack and do the bare minimum of ourselves.” 

 

She felt a slight jump strike her, as Matu threw the dish towel at Raer’s face with force. Though it was quickly met by Raer’s free hand as she slapped it away to the bar counter, missing its intended target. 

 

“Matu!” she yelled with her own anger upon her.

 

But Matu didn’t wait for her to continue, and turned and went back into the kitchen. 

 

She quickly turned her attention back to Raer, who sighed and moved her head from side to side in quick movements, as if she were considering what had just occurred. Though before she could ask Raer if she was upset with Matu’s actions, Akiva spoke in a gushing tone. 

 

“Aww! You stuck up for me.” 

 

“In a round-about way, I guess I did,” Raer acknowledged with a chuckle. 

 

“Though, now that I think about it,” Akiva responded with a smirk. “From what you said, I could actually feel passive-aggressively called out here. Though anything that comes off as brutal honesty from me isn’t from me being lazy or stupid; it comes from the fact I’m not wasting time investing in all-y’alls dumb asses. I’ve got better things to do than to take the time to make those honesty sandwiches you make.” 

 

She watched as Raer’s eyes moved to the ceiling in thought, as her head again tilted from side to side in consideration before she spoke with a giggle. 

 

“No, that’s fair.” 

 

As everyone chuckled, Raer continued. 

 

“Love you, Akiva.” 

 

“Oh, you love everyone,” Akiva countered with a hand wave and a grin. 

 

“Well … I love you more than most,” Raer asserted with another giggle that made her shoulders bounce in an innocent manner. 

 

“Aaaannnddd, I dislike you less than most,” Akiva teased as she reached out to tickle Raer on the waist, causing Raer to bounce with a yelp as she continued. “So I guess we’re both special.” 

 

It was a comment that brought forward a vigorous laugh, as it wasn’t exactly the words that prompted her response, it was the tone of delivery. 

 

But the laugh was subdued with a happy sigh, as Miles and Naira entered the pub from the side entrance as he announced. 

 

“Pardon the interruption, everyone. But Naira, the future star athlete, just completed a personal best in her standing long jump of 1.68 meters.” 

 

She felt her eyes widen, as Naira ran to her and she swooped her up into her arms and hugged her hard as she exclaimed. 

 

“Naira! That’s amazing! That’s almost twice your height! I’m so proud of you!” 

 

As Naira turned herself on her lap, she was able to face everyone as she spoke with pride. 

 

“They said if I could get past a meter and a half, they would put me on the team. Miles told me I was standing too straight when I went to jump. To pretend like I’m about to dive and use my arms more. And I did it on the fourth try! Miles even recorded it so we could send it to the coach. Will you send it to the coach tonight, please, Wayra.” 

 

“I will as soon as we get back,” Wayra assured Naira with a bright smile. “I’m proud and excited for you. Proud of you for your work and proud of you for listening to coach Miles.” 

 

Miles sat on a stool next to Akiva and released a breath of excitement of his own as he enthused. 

 

“Naira’s got ridiculously sharp timing. And fast, too. Deo help anyone competing against her when she gets to the long jump proper. She’s just so Deo damn good!” 

 

“Little ears!” Raer fussed with a laugh towards Miles swearing in front of Naira. 

 

“Ah, you’re right. Sorry about that, Naira,” Miles admitted with a chuckle of his own. “I’m really pumped for her. She’s got some serious athletic talent.” 

 

She felt Naira bounce in her lap as she vocalized her thoughts. 

 

“Miles. When I want to say a bad word and not get into trouble, I say oh double-dah!” 

 

“Naira!” Wayra gasped with genuine surprise, seemingly understanding what she was saying all the times he had heard her exclaim such. 

 

Naira quickly covered her mouth and laughed profusely under her hands and she wiggled with delight. It was a moment that brought her joy as she hugged Naira tight, adoring her spunk and intelligence. 

 

“And on that note,” Raer remarked with her own fading laugh. “We better let you get going. You ready to head upstairs, Naira?”

 

As both Raer and Naira moved from their sitting positions, Akiva asked with a chuckle. 

 

“Go upstairs and talk mad shit about all of us?” 

 

“Again, little ears. But since you asked, that is on our to-do list, yes,” Raer teased as she moved to the end of the bar and took Naira by the hand. “But after dear Naira gets a protein snack in her, our main plan is to work on a picture for Gareth to send to him. Right?”

 

“Right,” Naira confirmed as she quickly led Raer into the vestibule and up the stairs without another word. 

 

She sighed happily as she looked at Wayra, who had an enormous smile on his face, and announced. 

 

“Let’s get going.” 

 

• • •

 

Ash looked at Miles, who asked in a curious tone. 

 

“So who’s Gareth that Raer was talking about?”

 

“That’s Raer’s son, and apparently Naira’s bestest friend in the whole-wide-world,” she answered. 

 

Miles’ eyes opened wide as the look of shock came to his face. 

 

“I didn’t know she had a child. She never mentions him. Where is he? Is he with his father? Oh Deo, I don’t even know if Raer is married … is she married?” 

 

“Okay. That’s a lot of questions there,” she noted with a chuckle. “But in an attempt to answer them all: from what I know, Gareth is staying with friends of hers. Apparently for several reasons, though from what I can tell, the main being her associations with all the work she does for the cause, it’s far safer for him to be at a distance. As for her being married, she isn’t. As for the father … I haven’t asked much about it because every time I bring it up, she looks so sad, and I can’t bear to make her sad.”

 

“Understandable,” he agreed with a nod. “What input has Wayra given you?” 

 

“Pfft,” she vocalized with light irritation. “Wayra is being very … Wayra about it. Divulging little, to my serious disdain.” 

 

“Uh-oh,” Miles commented with a chortle. 

 

“Uh-oh, what?” she asked with an emerging grin, as Miles’ tone prompted such. 

 

“Uh-oh, as you know you’re in a relationship, deep deep, when you adore the person you’re with, but also can openly admit when they piss you right off,” he clarified with a grin. 

 

It was an explanation that elicited her smile to broaden, as she couldn’t deny that she was, beyond her logic, deeply in love with Wayra.

 

“Yep. In deep-deep,” she admitted with a chuckle. 

 

“I’m genuinely over the moons for you, Ash,” he offered in a soft, sincere tone that made her stomach turn with happiness. 

 

Though his attention did not remain on her, as he called to Wayra and Akiva, who were walking ahead of them, engaged in their own conversation. 

 

“What are you two talking about up there?” 

 

Akiva turned briefly and responded to his question with a grin. 

 

“How you did today with your training. I’m ripping on you hard.” 

 

She felt the laugh come forward with vim to Akiva’s tease. A laugh that was only increased by Miles’ animated expression of fake irritation, as he made an obscene gesture in Akiva’s direction. One Akiva returned with a laugh of her own. 

 

But Miles was not done attempting to grate Akiva as he whined in mock exaggeration and asked. 

 

“How much longer before we get there? I’m tired! I want to go home and go to bed!”

 

She again burst with laughter as Akiva turned and glared at Miles with a light grin, knowing he was picking on her for fun. Though it was Wayra who responded with a light chuckle of his own. 

 

“Midtown Park is a bit of a misnomer. Perhaps once upon a time in Melchior it was accurate, but no longer. We have to pick up the east-west tram to the park entrance. It’s about a 30-minute ride.” 

 

“Oh shit!,” Miles exclaimed with surprise. “I’ll reel it in, as I would get on my own damn nerves after ten consecutive minutes of my Hume shenanigans.” 

 

As the laugh that hadn’t really faded erupted forth, she felt a warmth come forward towards Miles. One of affable charms that spurred her to nudge him with her shoulder with teasing purpose. A non-vocal gesture of appreciation for his humor, his kindness, and their ever closening friendship. 

 

• • •

 

Ash looked around at the people who had gathered for the rally. A couple hundred thus far, which in her mind was encouraging, considering the event wasn’t scheduled to start for another 45 minutes, giving ample time for people to arrive. With the growing crowd, it brought to her a tinge of excitement for Porter. She was keenly aware of how hard he had been working to find success in spreading their workers’ rights message — and the people filling into the park in good numbers was a promising inspiration of that transpiring.  

 

Though the setting of Midtown Park was less inspiring. It was a park she hadn’t been familiar with in her youth, but if it ever had a time of prominence, she could well imagine its current state was the furthest from said repute. The park now was more of an open field, with mainly dirt and small patches of vegetation that were dry and lacking. Any semblance of playground equipment or athletic fields were only hinted, with footer holes that contained the ambiguous remnants of what once stood.

 

It was a backdrop that, for reasons she couldn’t understand, was inducing anxiety in her. Something Wayra apparently noticed, as he caught her attention and asked with a concerned voice. 

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

“Just a little antsy,” she answered with no elucidation, as she herself wasn’t clear what was troubling her and didn’t want to divert attention due to vague thoughts. 

 

“Let’s go find Porter,” Akiva proposed, not waiting for agreement as she and Miles moved toward the small stage that was off in the distance, prompting them to follow.

 

As they gently made their way through the crowd, winding between people, the sound of the collective voices that were gathered were rising, forcing their voices to rise with them, as Akiva called out orders of “this way!” and “over here.” 

 

After several minutes of navigating the crowd, they had finally made it over to near the side of the stage and to where Porter was standing with others, coordinating and directing persons in every direction to address any last moment issues. 

 

“Hey, all things awesome!” Akiva yelled as she approached Porter and greeted him with a mutual elbow lock.

 

It was a greeting that was repeated by Miles and Wayra. Though as she stepped forward to greet him, a woman rushed before her and asked with a raised voice of concern. 

 

“We’re having issues with the speaker system.” 

 

“It’s the portable generator. There’s a secondary one in Zenna’s DTV. She’s over at the DTV waiting just in case we need anything,” Porter advised, as he pointed toward where to go. 

 

“Thanks,” the woman responded. But as she began to move away, she quickly stopped in her tracks and spoke. “The local news crew is here, too. Wanted to interview some of the organizers.” 

 

But with no further words, the woman turned and hurried away towards her destination. 

 

“Uh …” Porter voiced, as he seemed slightly overwhelmed by this new bit of information. 

 

“Do you want me to go get them?” Akiva offered with a chuckle. “I’m tall. And if I can’t see them, I’ll go up and scan the crowd that way. Will bring them to you.” 

 

“I would be so grateful if you could,” Porter declared with a relief in his voice. “I’m a little over my head in delegating, and could use all the help I can get.” 

 

“Well, I want to see you succeed in this. If not, you’ll be complaining nonstop for months, and I don’t want to put up with that. So happy to do my part,” Akiva teased as she turned and moved away, not waiting for a response. 

 

As she and Miles laughed at Akiva’s rib, hers was quickly diffused, as she noted Wayra wasn’t laughing. She leaned forward to get a better look at his face, and felt her stomach drop as he had a stern expression. 

 

“What’s wrong? I can tell you’re worried,” Wayra inquired to Porter in a firm tone. 

 

Porter moved closer to Wayra — as if trying to keep his words private despite the noisy crowd — as he responded. 

 

“We’ve had some weird intel. That someone is going to sabotage the rally. Don’t know who, why, or to what extent. We’ve had a lot of hiccups, but we’ve navigated around all of them so far. So either they’re really amateur, or it was just bad intel.” 

 

“Porter!” a man called, garnering their attention as he approached. “We already ran out of pamphlets and I can’t find the other stack.” 

 

“They’re under the stage on the back … “ Porter instructed as he stepped away from them briefly, addressing the man’s question. 

 

With Porter aside, she returned her attention to Wayra, whose visage had not changed from one of concern. But before she could pose a question of her own, Warya reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his roamphone and announced. 

 

“Someone from Nokahme is calling and I won’t be able to hear them over the noise. Going to find a quiet spot, be right back.” 

 

Simultaneously, as Wayra stepped away, Porter returned with another expression of mire from the barrage of issues he was being presented with. But before he could even speak to them, another voice called out in a distressed volume.

 

“Porter! Porter!” 

 

“Yevallo! Over here!” Porter responded with his arm aloft, directing the man named Yevallo to him. 

 

“Porter!” Yevallo blurted with a winded voice. “We have a serious problem. Remember that new team member from Mindis whose name we could never remember?”

 

“Yeah. The guy we dubbed ‘no-name,’” Porter answered with a curious tone. 

 

“He’s headed this way with a huge unit of HEAGENs,” Yevallo reported with an increasingly stressed voice. 

 

It was a report that shot through her like a bolt. One that brought with it an instant shake of fear, but too, a burn of anger. Her eyes turned to Miles, who looked at her and nodded, stepping forward closer to Porter, as if in a protective stance. 

 

Her own head turned quickly, looking for Wayra. But upon not seeing him anywhere in sight, her mind turned back to the moment at hand, as Porter spoke in a calm and firm manner. 

 

“We have to be careful. The powers that be are looking for any reason to increase HEAGEN authority. We have all the permits and all the paperwork. We’ll make our case and be the levelheaded ones. Plus, the local news crew are being brought over and I don’t think HEAGEN will be so bold as to commit any crimes in front of such a large crowd and cameras.”

 

She listened to Porter’s words and wished she could believe them. But her experiences informed her otherwise. She tried to swallow the knot that was forming in her throat, but her mouth was dry, incapable of producing any relief. 

 

As several of the other organizers gathered around Porter and Yevallo — all of whom had apparently heard who was approaching — Porter looked to her and Miles and offered with emphasis. 

 

“You don’t have to stay. Go.” 

 

“No!” both she and Miles spoke in unison — in an equally firm voice. 

 

“We aren’t leaving y’all,” Miles confirmed.

 

No further words were spoken as their collective attentions turned to watch the crowd part with voices, hums, and subdued calls of concern, as a large group of HEAGENs, accompanied by another man, approached them. Upon their appearance, her stomach dropped, but her mind rose with fire. As if her fight-or-flight response was emerging in her consciousness. It was a strange moment, as she had seen HEAGENs since the day in Udo, and had not felt this response. However, in the way they were approaching, she could feel the malice they were bringing with them.  

 

“All of this is here illegally. Take that down, now,” the apparent commanding officer instructed some of the HEAGENs as they moved towards the stage. And with little care, they began to kick the speakers and other effects over and to the ground. 

 

“I believe there has been a mistake,” Porter addressed the HEAGENs as he stepped forward. “We have all the permits and proper paperwork, as you can see. These were the copies that were provided to us by the procurement agency.” 

 

Porter looked at Yevallo, who quickly pulled papers from his pockets and handed them to Porter, who then passed them onto the commanding officer. 

 

The commanding officer took the papers, and without a glance, tore them up. It was a moment that made everyone in close proximity gasp, as it was now clear that there was to be no reasoning with HEAGEN on this. 

 

The commanding officer in return pulled papers from his vest pocket and handed them to Yevallo as he shouted. 

 

“These are the actual papers that were filed, and they were denied. What you presented to me were forgeries, and those offenders will be arrested.” 

 

“Wait,” the man who accompanied the HEAGENs, who she assumed was ‘no-name,’ spoke as he stepped forward. “I was given the understanding it was just a misfiling. That the papers weren’t properly filled out.” 

 

“That can’t be right,” Yevallo insisted as he gestured to no-name. “He and I, we went and filed the permits ourselves. We were both present when they gave the approval.” 

 

“We’re always right,” the commanding officer snapped as he raised his voice and shouted his threat for all in proximity to hear. “Those who forged the documents will be arrested. Those who are here for the illegal rally are trespassing and are subject to arrest at our discretion. There will not be another warning.” 

 

As some of the organizers moved towards the stage and other parts, in an attempt to salvage whatever personal equipment they could from HEAGENs impetuous actions, her focus returned to Yevallo as his expression was one of crestfallen. He looked at no-name and asked in a pitch of disbelief. 

 

“How could you do this? We’re just trying to make things better for honest, working people. How could that ever be a problem?”

 

Suddenly a HEAGEN in the unit stepped forward in an attempt to detain Yevallo, but her movements were matched as Porter, Miles, and even no-name moved to pull Yevallo back and away from the arresting HEAGEN. 

 

She looked directly at no-name, whose face had moved from one of resolve upon his approach to one of guilt, as he spoke in a pleading voice. 

 

“As I said, I was told it was a misfiling and …” 

 

But before no-name could finish his comment, the commanding officer quickly pulled his percussion gun from his back and stuck no-name with force across the face, sending him to the ground. 

 

With the action of the HEAGEN, she felt her heart jump — but not in fear. Instead, her anger was pronounced; her hand was starting to sting, as the ever-tightening fist she was making was causing her nails to bite into her palm’s skin. 

 

However, her emotions were not shared with many, as a majority of those who witnessed the brutal act called in panic, trying to get away from the HEAGEN by pushing the crowd to move back and away. The reaction was amplified as the sound of crashing wood and metal erupted; the stage had been knocked down, causing people deeper into the gathering to raise their voices in concern, as the confusion of what was transpiring was sweeping through the crowd. 

 

Her attention turned back to Yevallo, who stepped forward toward no-name to help him up from the strike against him. But his movement forward was also met with a strike by another HEAGEN, sending him to the ground as well. 

 

It was with that action that seemed to signal the remaining unit to spread out and disperse the crowd. She felt the familiar feeling of people fleeing as with each bump into her; she was recalling what she experienced in Udo. 

 

This time, her anger was boiling over. She told herself in a moment of will that she wasn’t going to allow herself to be swept up in the rush of people. She would stand her ground, push past them, and fight these monsters. 

 

She stepped forward and moved next to Miles, who, along with Porter, was directing people away from the few HEAGENs that remained near them. Her attention was again drawn to no-name, who screamed at the commanding officer from his lying position. 

 

“You said no arrests! Only warnings! We had a deal!”

 

The movement of the commanding officer bringing his percussion gun to bear wasn’t something that shook her from her anger. But the deafening sound of the lethal shot did compel her wince, forcing her eyes to close, and shielding them from the explosion of blood and particles that sprayed on everyone in the vicinity, as the no-name’s clothing and skin was torn apart from the impact. 

 

Her eyes opened and blinked quickly as the warmth of no-names blood could be felt across her face and body in droplets. But said warmth was nothing compared to the fire that was pulsing through her. A fire fueled by the rage of seeing another life cut short by HEAGEN. 

 

She let out a scream of anger and stepped forward to rush the commanding officer. However, before her leading foot had even touched the dirt, she felt someone grab her from behind and whip her around, ushering her quickly away from the HEAGENs. 

 

It was another action that prompted the flash in her mind: the memories of Udo as people around her called out in fear as they scattered from danger. She again fought the person who guided her against her will, as it wasn’t just her life she was concerned with; it was the lives of Warya, Miles, Akiva, and Porter that she was determined to protect. An impulse that only increased, as somewhere behind her, she heard another percussion gun shot ring out. 

 

As she planted her heels into the dirt with a stomp, stopping the forward progress, she thrashed herself to and fro, pulling her elbows up and using them to free herself for the grip. But her movements and their intentions were interrupted as she heard Wayra’s voice plead in her ear.
 

“Ash! I’ve got you. They’re safe. But we have to keep going.” 

 

• • •

 

Ash pounded the soap against the fabric that laid on the sink’s vanity as she nearly growled at it. 

 

“Errr! Why won’t you come clean? Damn it!” 

 

“Ash, love,” Raer offered in a soft voice. 

 

“No!” she interrupted with an intense anger on her lips as she turned and looked at Raer and Miles as they stood in the doorway to the bathroom. “I wish everyone could have realized we had the numbers on our side. We could have taken them.” 

 

“People are so conditioned to see themselves alone and insignificant, they are too afraid to put themselves forward. They think even if they have numbers, the power will still win.” 

 

“They’re wrong!” she barked. “What I saw today was exactly what I saw in Udo. With all those people, we could have overwhelmed the HEAGENs. If those people only know their own strength. But it all unfolded exactly as it did in Udo. We’re all overwhelmed; when you see it unfolding so fast, you don’t know you’re the one with the power. The HEAGENs knew that. That’s why they exercised force. Because they knew they were surrounded and could be taken. They were the ones who were afraid. So they committed crimes in front of everyone. They murdered and maimed and … RUINED MY SHIRT!” 

 

As she threw the shirt into the waiting water of the sink, she called out in frustration as she continued. 

 

“And yes! I’m cognizant that the shirt is just a projection of what I’m feeling, and nothing compared to the scope of things. But Deo damnit, I loved that shirt!” 

 

“If you’d like, I can pull it apart at the seams and use it as a pattern to make you a new shirt,” Raer offered in a calm tone. 

 

“I don’t want a new shirt!” she firmly stated with a raise in her voice. “I want … I want …”

 

She began to feel the tears fall to her freshly cleaned cheeks, as she couldn’t articulate what she wanted. All she knew was — it wasn’t this. It wasn’t the terror. It wasn’t the injustice. It wasn’t being a victim of their crimes. 

 

The tears pushed her head to lower deep as her chin touched her chest, forcing her to gasp for air around the soundless tears. 

 

As Raer’s arms wrapped around her, she closed her eyes and let the light dance behind her eyelids, as the tears that were flowing freely, directed and shifted the colors in swirls. She let out a labored breath as Raer stroked her hair from crown to neck and kissed her on the side of the head with gentle comfort. 

 

It was a relief being imbued upon her that she accepted with requital as she placed her arms around Raer and squeezed tight — attempting to permit herself allowance to Raer’s healing care and soothe her emotional wounds. 

 

“I’ve got a better idea,” Raer spoke softly. “I’m well aware you know it’s a projection … your shirt. But it could also be viewed as a symbol. A metaphor for what has taken place. Let me perform a little embroidery on it. Transform it. We’ll take that metaphor and make one of our own that represents what a warrior you were today.” 

 

“She is,” Miles affirmed, with an encouraging tone. “And I have to agree with you, Ash. In theory. It’s just difficult to know something intellectually. But to put it into practice in the moment; that can be another matter.” 

 

She opened her eyes and sniffed, letting her gaze fall on Wayra as he had made his way to the door frame. 

 

“Can I get you a shirt, my lovely?” Wayra asked in a gentle voice. “Third floor bath is so cold.” 

 

Pulling herself away from Raer, she wiped her cheeks and looked down at herself, standing in her bra and skirt. 

 

“I’m okay. Still burning from the rage,” she admitted. 

 

“HEAGEN will be held accountable,” Wayra assured her in a knowing voice. 

 

But his tone and address didn’t provide her with comfort. She felt her anger again escalate as she scoffed at his words as her voice came to a shout. 

 

“You know, I want to believe you. I want to believe that your Attata graces saw something that I couldn’t possibly see or know. But I simply can’t. They won’t be held accountable. Those HEAGENs, like all other HEAGENs, will get away with murder because the fundamental belief is systemic. We’re poor! So any and all society above us devalues our lives. Our lives are expendable because we’re seen as low-value. But Deo damnit, my value isn’t intrinsically proportionate to how much money I make! How much I contribute by their subjective standards! I’m kind. I’m hardworking. I’m educated. And I know, people will mock and say ‘what could you possibly do with an education studying enaid?’ But I can guarantee I will do more substantial and meaningful things in my life just studying enaid then they will ever do as evil, terrorizing HEAGENs!”

 

The tears burst forth with a vocal heave as she let her darker wishes come forward with little filter. 

 

“I want them to pay! Especially those two HEAGENs who devalued us so easily. I want them to feel the pain and anguish they inflicted on us a hundredfold! I …” 

 

She shook her head as she threw hands down to her sides in frustration as she continued, weeping freely. 

 

“Then again, I don’t! I don’t want them to drag me to their depths of depravity and heartlessness. I don’t want to let them change me to see them the way they see me. But I can feel that shift! Their actions are changing me! I don’t want to be hardened. I don’t …” 

 

As the tears found their full voice, she released a wail that moved her to bend at the waist and lean her hands to her knees, holding herself up as she felt she could have fallen over with all the emotions that were crashing through her. The cry was intense. It made her gulp, as she found a moment where her breath was escaping from her lungs too quickly. It was something both Wayra and Raer recognised as she heard both of them speak her name in tones of concern, with Wayra instructing. 

 

“Raer, help me.” 

 

She felt Wayra pull at her shoulder gently, to stand her erect as he brought her into his arms and held, pressing her chin onto the top of his shoulder. 

 

“Easy. Easy,” Wayra whispered in her ear; she felt Raer’s hand to her back as a rush of air came into her, letting her feel an allay in the physical regard. 

 

With her eyes pressed closed, she focused on allowing herself the cry she needed. A mourning that, as she expressed it, she realized wasn’t just from what she had experienced that day, but also a residual from the trauma she experienced in Udo. 

 

After what seemed to be several minutes of pure sorrow, she felt herself calm as she pulled away from Wayra and noted. 

 

“I need to blow my nose.” 

 

As she reached for some disposable tissue, she moved over to the bench and sat as she watched Raer moisten a washcloth under the cold running water, wring it out, and fold it as she brought it to her and advised. 

 

“You’re burning up from the tears. Place this on the back of the neck. It will help cool you down and keep that mucus from making you nauseous.” 

 

She nodded as she pulled at her hair and moved it from her neck, giving Raer access to place the cold washcloth that instantly sent a chill down her spine with its temperature. 

 

“Aside from the cold jolt, that feels good,” she admitted as she blew her nose and cleared her sinuses from the tear induced blockage. 

 

Taking a deep breath, her eyes continued to watch Raer as she had returned to the sink and prepared a second washcloth. This time of a mild temperature as she brought it to her and offered. 

 

“For your face, love.” 

 

She felt a light chuckle come to her as she took the washcloth from Raer and ran it slowly over her skin. 

 

“Emotions are shifting. Feeling a tinge foolish as you all dote on me.” 

 

“Nonsense,” Raer declared in a firm voice. “You’re experiencing a perfectly reasonable response.” 

 

“You’re just experiencing it around perfectly unreasonable people who live for doting on others,” Wayra added with his own chortle. “Not that I’m implying that’s a bad thing, to clarify. Only we lean hard into the attentive.” 

 

“Add me to that group,” Miles spoke as he walked into the bathroom with clothing in hand. “I’ve got something for you to borrow. It’s what I call my emotional support hooded pullover. It’s gigantic on me, so I know you’ll be swimming in it. But, so help me Deo, being in it feels like being in a cocoon. Like you’re warm and safe. It’s damn near ridiculous to explain, but even more ridiculous once you get it on to experience. Too, Naira gave me a pair of shorts and socks for you.” 

 

She felt the genuine smile come to her as she looked up at the three faces that were offering her care, empathy, and love. It was a moment she felt she didn’t have to wish she wouldn’t become hardened by the world’s actions; for she was surrounded by examples of why compassion would still be prominent, in her heart.

 

• • •

 

Ash sat on the settee, brought her knees to her chest, and adjusted the massive pullover to cover her legs in their entirety. It was a moment that made her wiggle with comfort as a coziness swelled in her. In addition, she was an awe of how Miles was wholly correct. How a simple garment could induce such a feeling of warmth and safety. It was something she would need as her eyes fell on Porter, who was pacing back and forth behind the couch as he spoke on his roamphone. 

 

Her eyes cast around the room; Miles was sitting on the chaise, Raer was on the couch, Akiva was standing near Miles, and Wayra was standing, with an expression of sorrow, as if he already knew what was going to be shared. 

 

As the phone chirped, signifying the end of the call, Porter let his hand fall to his side as he spoke around the tears that were running down his face. 

 

“Yevallo is dead.” 

 

She felt her eyes close and hold, as the hurt for Porter was profound, stirring up the emotions she had just experienced a short time earlier. But as she took a breath, and calmed those emotions, she spoke firmly to herself that she would be able to feel this out later; the focus was to be on Porter and his personal loss. 

 

Upon opening her eyes, she felt a gentle smile come to her, as she saw Wayra embracing Porter in support. As he released the hold, he guided Porter to the couch, sitting him next to Raer, who quickly offered her hand, and was just as quickly accepted as Porter took it and squeezed. 

 

“I’m sorry, Porter,” Akiva sighed with a regretful breath. “I really liked Yevallo. He was one of the good ones. But before we allow ourselves to go into full mourning mode, we need to discuss some potential issues. I’ve just gotten off the line with some of my contacts. We need to know if any of that paperwork can be traced back to your name directly, as they may still try to issue arrests.” 

 

“Yes and no,” Porter responded with a shake of his head. “Our organization is public, so all our names are available if they really want to come after us. But filing the permits wasn’t my job. Yavallo and what’s-his-name were the ones who were tasked with making sure the paperwork was clear.” 

 

“They won’t be pursuing anyone further,” Wayra offered with certitude. “They have, in their mind, dealt with the supposed criminals, have congratulated themselves, and called it a day.” 

 

“I trust you graced that,” Akiva noted. “And while I trust your graces, I still think we should be on our guard. However, if there is anything good that has come out of this, it has already made the local and national news. With, I know, some places in like Ki and Michi picking it up. So at least Idemere will not be alone in reporting this. Further, on a take-the-bad, take-the-good, watched the raw footage on the bulletin boards. While the cameras didn’t get the murder on film directly, it was easy to see it was HEAGEN inciting and engaging. You couldn’t deny the sounds of the percussion guns. And none of our faces were evident on the video either, which is good.”

 

“I’ve been on the bulletin boards, too,” Miles added. “People are pissed. Some have their own personal videos but are scared to post them. I wish Dagda would get back online. Could use his help right now. Nevertheless, I’ve seen rumors the national news is going to spin it as the organizers were the aggressors, excusing the response. But local and beyond are keeping it straight. Deo, I miss real journalists. Ones who valued presenting the truth to the people. Not those who value kissing Hylatee-ass.”

 

“Don’t we all,” Akiva agreed. 

 

As the sound of an incoming call halted their conversation, Porter slowly pulled the roamphone from his pocket and examined. After a couple more rings, he shook his head and spoke with bother in his voice. 

 

“I can’t take this call.” 

 

“Who is it?” Akiva asked. 

 

“It’s Emby,” Porter replied. 

 

She felt her brows furrow as she was aware of his friend Emby, and of her being a HEAGEN. It was a moment that she could imagine would be a difficult one for Porter. He was already trying to reconcile his friend’s choice to be part of HEAGEN. But now, being a direct victim of their detestable acts, it would only increase his resentment towards her life choices. 

 

The ringing took a brief pause as it appeared the call ended. But only a moment later, it rang out again as Porter confirmed. 

 

“Emby, again.” 

 

“Word must be spreading fast if she’s all the way in Alingeisu,” Akiva observed. “‘Cause that’s not a ‘hey how you doing’ call. She would have left a message. That’s a ‘oh dear Deo I hope he’s okay,’ calling back till you pick up, call.” 

 

“I can’t talk to her right now,” Porter admitted as the phone again paused, only to return to its ring, as it was now obvious Emby was worried for him. 

 

“I’ll take the call for you,” Raer offered as she released Porter’s hand and held it out, in a non-verbal request for the phone. “There’s no purpose in keeping her in worry. I’ll speak with her and schedule your return call for you.” 

 

“Thank you,” Porter breathed out with a tone of gratitude for the reprieve. 

 

They all watched as Porter handed the phone to Raer, who stood and moved towards the hall as she answered the phone. “Raer speaking. Is this Emby?” as her voice faded with her departure. 

 

She returned her attention back to Porter as Wayra patted him on the back comfortingly, prompting Porter to speak aloud. 

 

“I just don’t get it. Why? We’re just trying to make a living wage. Why is suppressing us … terrorizing us … so damn essential? They’ll get their money. The rich always do. Money will always trickle up before it trickles down because we use it to live. Again, they’ll get the money. Why can’t they wait a couple days, let it pass through our hands first in the form of a living wage? Why is that so Deo damn hard for them?” 

 

“I wish I could answer that question for you,” Wayra acknowledged with a sigh. “Even with my graces, it’s impossible to see into the voids of the souls that drive those people to deny others their basic rights. Drive those people to commit such heinous acts against us.”

Chapter 42

Book 1 — Chapter 43

​

Day: Hynyengo

Date: 27

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Hylaton


 

Tane sighed as he reviewed the news on his tablet. The killing the day prior by HEAGEN in Melchior wasn’t a shock considering the heavy hand HEAGEN exercised there. However, as he looked across the airship at Jacinth — who was staring at seemingly nothing, his hand resting on his mouth in thought — he worried that Jacinth was assigning some of the blame to himself, as he had prior knowledge that something may go awry. Not that anyone reasonable would agree with such notions. But Jacinth wasn’t the most forgiving of himself, and took things that were far out of his control to heart, as if he played a part in the acts himself. 

 

The news was a regrettable welcome back to Hylaton, especially as they had such a productive and pleasurable time at the conference in Watee-ahto Yahkama. Jacinth enjoyed many hours visiting with his family the following day after their initial dinner, and he found himself genuinely happy to see him so joyous and relaxed. 

 

For himself, he believed he was still glowing from the time of engagement and copulation with Sloan. After their first rendezvous, they had equally pursued each other to spend whatever time they could together. And while granted, most of the time was spent in intimate relations, their conversations after were almost as pleasurable. For while he knew she was a worldly, intelligent woman, he was smitten by her quick wit and humor. 

 

He felt the grin pull at the sides of his mouth as he thought of asking Sloan if she was interested in continuing their friendship beyond the conference. To which she — with a lovely smile — presented him with a pre-made list of contact information, as it was obvious she was of the same mind. 

 

However, his thoughts wouldn’t allow him to linger on the happy, as his eyes continued to study Jacinth, whose expression of concern only increased with each kilometer closer to Hylaton. 

 

“Do you want to share your mind?” he asked.

 

“There is little of consequence to convey,” Jacinth responded around the fingers that were still firmly to his mouth. “It’s context-dependent compartmentalization at this stage. I … I have a lot to consider.” 

 

“Jacinth,” Na’thot’s voice came forward over the intercom speaker, as he was at the front of the airship, piloting. “We’ll be arriving at Hylatee headquarters in a couple of minutes.” 

 

Jacinth removed his hand from his mouth, to the intercom button in the arm of his chair, and replied. 

 

“Thank you, both. I would like you to drop us off on the rooftop landing area. As soon as we disembark, please return the airship to the yard. After, you’re free to do as you wish. I will not be needing your services any further this week. I will see you on Hyningo.” 

 

“ … Understood,” Na’thot responded over the intercom. Though the vocal breath of concern that accompanied it was conspicuous.

 

It was something that Jacinth noted; a light smile of appreciation emerged as he retrieved his roamphone, with the apparent intention of responding to Na’thot’s concerns in a more private manner. 

 

Upon Jacinth finishing his direct message, his smile increased as he offered. 

 

“Thank you for accompanying me to deliver the artifact. You’re very generous with your time.” 

 

“I’m here for you, Jacinth,” he replied with a smile he hoped would convey support. “Don’t hesitate to ask, friend.” 

 

• • •

 

Tane felt his eyes roll as they approached the main boardroom. For beyond the closed doors was a typically angry Cartmel, who was yelling with such ferocity that it was easily heard far down the hall. 

 

His head turned toward Jacinth as they walked side by side, each holding one of the rope handles that were attached to the crate that housed the artifact. He asked with a rib. 

 

“I may have to rescind my offer to assist you. I’m not sure I want to walk into that.” 

 

“Perhaps we can crack the door, toss the crate in, and run,” Jacinth suggested with a chuckle. But as they had arrived at the door, Jacinth continued with a vocal sigh. “Though I suppose we proceed.” 

 

Jacinth knocked on the door with a heavy hand, trying to alert their presence over Cartmel’s yelling. It was a successful attempt; Cartmel paused and answered with anger in her voice. 

 

“Come in!” 

 

As Jacinth pushed the door open and entered the boardroom, he followed at an awkward angle until he passed the threshold. He looked around and noted that the only people in the room were Cartmel, Ugwyd, and two under-scientists who reported to Ugwyd whose names he could not recall. 

 

“Good day, mother,” Jacinth spoke in a formal tone. “I have the delivery of the item you requisitioned. Brought to you directly as soon as we arrived, per your precise orders.” 

 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Cartmel returned in a sarcastic tone. Though her attention returned to Ugwyd as she continued. “At least someone in this company follows directives when given them. You’re dismissed. We’ll continue this conversation later, Ugwyd.”

 

He watched as the under-scientists hastily collected the papers that were on the table and made their way out. Though Ugwyd was slower in his departure — leaving last and taking his time to stare at Jacinth on the way out with an expression of disdain. 

 

As the door shut behind them, Cartmel continued her sarcastic tone as she addressed them. 

 

“The crate doesn’t look that big. Did it really require both of you to carry it?” 

 

“It was not so much the crate’s weight,” Jacinth responded with a pitch of mock, “but I did not want Tane to miss out on the enthusiastic praise and gratitude you would bestow for a job well done.” 

 

“Ha-ha. Hilarious, Jacinth,” Cartmel responded with mild irritation. “You’re in a good mood. I suppose I don’t have to ask what brought on such.” 

 

“I suppose you don’t,” Jacinth replied in a terse tone. 

 

Cartmel took a moment to examine them both over; she seemed to be debating internally, as her eyes and brows were moving from one expression to another. But, as she came to a conclusion, her eyes firmed, and she gestured and voiced her directive. 

 

“There’s no need to stand there. Place the crate here on the table. What do you have to report about the conference?” 

 

He and Jacinth moved toward the front of the table, placing it where she had asked. But as they both stepped back from the table, he took a couple of steps further; imparting distance as he was certain part of her questions would be about whom Jacinth met. It was that topic that pushed him away, as he wanted to impart a semblance of privacy between Jacinth and Cartmel. 

 

“It was a conference like any other,” Jacinth responded. “A great many ideas were exchanged. Few consensuses arrived at. Nothing of great interest.” 

 

“Nothing of great interest?” Cartmel asked in a voice of bewilderment. “Either you’re lying, or you have seriously lost a sense of proportion.” 

 

He felt his stomach turn as he tried to remain stone faced. Not allowing any indication of guilt or fear to emerge — though both were quickly moving up his spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to spring to attention. 

 

His mind immediately wondered if Cartmel had heard of Jacinth’s purchase or of the plans he had made with others concerning the trade minimum increase. He tried to steady himself; the quiet between Cartmel and Jacinth was protracted, causing him to wonder what Jacinth’s facial expression was conveying, as he could not see such from his vantage. 

 

A breath he had been holding released slightly, as Jacinth shook his head slowly and responded. 

 

“I have no clue to what you are referencing,” Jacinth assured. 

 

Cartmel released a chuckle and shook her head with an expression of incomprehension as she asserted. 

 

“You can’t be serious! Everyone is talking about it.” 

 

“What are people discussing?” Jacinth asked in a tone that was illustrating his wavering patience. 

 

“You really don’t know, do you?” Cartmel asked. “Sena Zasani?” 

 

“Oh. He was his typical self. Exhibiting his lack of self control and self respect. He was high on Deo-knows-what drugs the entire time I saw him. I found him pitiable, but not worthy of any extensive conversation.” 

 

“He’s dead,” Cartmel reported with another chuckle to her voice. 

 

“What!” he and Jacinth both asked in disbelief, prompting him to step forward. 

 

“Now that I think about it, you might have left the conference early,” Cartmel noted as she detailed. “But I have it on the good authority of my WARS, who were present, and other sources, that Sena Zasani was part of a public panel and he was beyond impaired. They could barely get a coherent thought from him at first. However, apparently his lips got very loose towards the end, and he divulged some highly classified government secrets related to Hoba. As you know, Hoba and Galu have been having some border disputes. Not only did he lay out some of what Hoba collectively had been doing; but what that dumbass leader of theirs has been up to, as well. It became so out of hand they cut his microphone and he just continued on, yelling for everyone to hear. Security intervened, and he ran. They found him not too far away. Apparently, they’re speculating it was cardiac arrest from a drug overdose.” 

 

“That’s both shocking and strangely predictable,” he breathed out, still trying to wrap his head around what he was just told. 

 

“I credit you there, Tane. Quite predictable,” Cartmel agreed with a chortle. “Not a significant loss. He was well into a downward spiral, having lost nearly all his money. One humiliation after another, all of it self-imposed. I suspect there will be a significant fallout in Hoba with the government. Morons. The lot of them. Something we’ll need to monitor to protect our interests.” 

 

As Cartmel paused, she looked at Jacinth and asked. 

 

“You really didn’t know? You must have left very early. What did you do with your time?” 

 

“This morning, I had breakfast with Paepere and Maemere,” Jacinth responded in a matter-of-fact tone. 

 

It was at that moment; he felt the need to again back away from Cartmel and Jacinth. Giving them the space to speak in somewhat privacy. Though he glanced at Cartmel, who took in a visible breath, raised her chin, and asked in an obvious feigned indifference. 

 

“And how is the Aileuti family?” 

 

“They are excellent,” Jacinth answered. “Business is going well, as you already are well aware, I am sure.” 

 

“Yes indeed,” Cartmel responded as she looked to the crate and fidgeted with the rope handles. She continued in a curt tone. “But don’t play with me, Jacinth. You know I was not asking about business matters. How are they … personally?” 

 

As the question came out, it prompted him to shift himself to the side and stand behind Jacinth — in an attempt to make his presence unnoticeable — as Jacinth responded in a soft tone. 

 

“They are healthy and happy. I was overjoyed to spend time with them. They asked about you and requested I pass along their thoughts and love to you.” 

 

“Did they?” Cartmel asked in a cracked voice. “Well, that was good of you to honor their request.” 

 

He peaked around Jacinth; Cartmel continued to stare at the crate as her voice softened. 

 

“I believe we’re done here. Please leave.” 

 

He turned and waited for Jacinth to depart as he fell alongside. Not another word was spoken. Not another glance was given. But such was tempting as he was closing the door, he swore he heard a tiny sniffle from Cartmel. 

 

• • •

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cartmel asked from behind, causing him to bounce with surprise. 

 

“Cartmel,” he said as he tried to gather himself. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. I was heading out for the day.” 

 

“Why is it you and Jacinth both feel it appropriate to call it an early day? Neither of you have been in the office nearly the entire week. And I don’t want to hear how you were working in the field. I’m well aware of that. But there are matters that require on-site attention.” 

 

He released a breath as he prepared himself to argue his thoughts. 

 

“I don’t disagree, in general. However, I did schedule the work to …” 

 

“I’m not interested in how you justify it,” Cartmel interrupted with an increase of anger in her voice. “The point is, you are to be here when I need you. Which is now. I’m certain you’ve heard what happened in Melchior at the pro-union rally. Nonsense, really. But it has made news, and of course that group, Idemere, has been having their say about it. However, I believe it has provided an opportunity. I have invited some of my closer allies within the government to attend a meeting that will take place within the next half-hour. I would like you to attend.” 

 

“I …” he paused, as he couldn’t imagine why he would be needed for such a meeting. “I have little political background. I’m not sure what use I could be.” 

 

He felt his stomach sink, as Cartmel’s irritation was now beyond her words and now in her expression. 

 

“Your use comes from your knowledge of cultures and the people who practice them. How to use that to better influence them. This isn’t an offer, Tane. It’s an order. Return your things to your office and report to the main boardroom immediately.” 

 

As Cartmel turned and rushed away, he closed his eyes and groaned to himself as he also turned — returning to his office and resigning himself to the nightmare of the day for just a little longer. 

 

• • •

 

Tane entered the boardroom and immediately felt the dread wash over him. He noted the sideboard had been stocked, per usual, but his appetite was already beyond soured. Even the prospect of something to chew on, to settle himself, wasn’t appealing. 

 

As he approached the table, he paused as the seats were filling up fast with both board members and politicians. However, his internal question was quickly addressed, as Cartmel called out and instructed. 

 

“Tane. Board members will sit on the left, our guests, the right. Since your regularly assigned chair is on the left, take your usual seat.”

 

He nodded as an acknowledgment and moved to his seat; Cartmel continued to direct people to their seats. 

 

As he sat on the seat, he looked over to Jacinth, who met his eyes and lifted them to the ceiling, shaking his head, in the shared aggravation they were both feeling. He nodded in agreement and sat back in his chair, observing all those in attendance. 

 

Those present from Hylatee were the typical group of department heads, from legal to HEAGEN operations. On the political side, there were many who he was familiar with as being friendly  — or with hopes to be friendly — with Cartmel. Cessjia from Hylaton. A woman named Vissen from Anahita, who was a local politician. A man from Mindis named Ja’don. A man from Melchior named Sotam. Along with a handful whose names and their districts escaped him. 

 

“Since everyone is here, let’s get started,” Cartmel announced, bringing his attention to her.

 

He watched as she took her place at her seat at the front of the table and began with a hostile pitch. 

 

“I would like to keep this meeting very short and to the point. Though, I would like to preface this by reminding everyone … you’re here because of me. Because of Hylatee. You have benefited politically, despite the laws against such, because of my abilities and discretion. You have benefited politically and personally from your proximity to me and my generosity. These are facts that must be remembered, first and foremost, when you’re asked to respond in kind.” 

 

Cartmel paused as she looked around, apparently gauging everyone’s expressions, before she continued. 

 

“In light of what occurred in Melchior this past week, I have decided that a bill needs to be put forward in order to maintain order.” 

 

A politician, whose name he could not recall, spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. 

 

“Cannot be done, Cartmel. Bills cannot be added less than four weeks prior to elections. You’ve missed the deadline.” 

 

“I was given the knowledge it can be done under the emergency injunction law,” Cartmel noted. 

 

The same politician shook his head as he responded. 

 

“That is true; but only done in very rare cases. What is it exactly that you want?” 

 

“I want a bill designed to grant HEAGEN, due to the increased threat from Idemere and the pro-union movements, more authority in Melchior, Esus, Nanto, Mindis, and Anahita,” Cartmel answered with an increasingly baleful tone. 

 

“You didn’t mention Hylaton,” Cessjia pointed out. “I’m on your side always, Cartmel. But that would make the bill a local one. Local bills cannot be used for the emergency injunction.”

 

Cartmel gestured her hand towards one of the board members who headed the legal team, as if she anticipated that question and had already conferred with as she countered. 

 

“If it’s regionally communal, as written by all authorities within the areas, it can be done.” 

 

“Why not just try it on the national level?” another politician asked. “Why leave Hylaton, or even places like Sh’kae, out?” 

 

Cartmel let out a vocal huff; her expression darkened as her voice raised with anger. 

 

“How is it any of you can lead while you are all so damned stupid? So wholly ignorant. Laws such as these are not meant for the eminent. If a bill like this is presented to such a superior class as Hylaton, it would be a slap in the face to their esteem. They will see it as the insult that it is and the measure will fail overall.”

 

“I beg your pardon,” Vissen injected with a tone of acrimony. “I, along with my colleagues, run the Anahita region successfully without a great HEAGEN presence. Any incidents that can be traced back to Idemere are few. Further, we have a little pro-union presence because these are highly educated people who live there. Most of the people who work in Hylaton in the service sectors are from Anahita. We are equal to those of Hylaton.” 

 

He felt his eyebrows raise, as Cartmel laughed with sincere humor at Vissen’s words. Not that the laugh surprised him, but that Vissen would dare to think Cartmel would view anyone outside of Hylaton as an equal. That Vissen would assume Anahita’s proximity to Hylaton in what they were most known for, their education and highly educated adjacent industries, would allow them similar status. For none of that mattered when it came to the elite. What truly mattered was wealth. A wealth that could be obtained by even the most idiotic of people through means beyond intelligence. It was the wealth that granted them the premier status — a status that they set by exercising said wealth — that even the most intelligent scientist, the most famed artist, or the most celebrated athlete could never break into, as they were all still common in the minds of Hylaton-class minds.  

 

“You beg my pardon? As I think you should,” Cartmel rescinded with another considerable raise of her voice. “This level of ignorance astounds me. You and the people of Anahita are far from our equals. You, like your people, are mediocre at best. Oh yes, you love to imagine you’re so far above those of Melchior or Esus, but you need to be put in your place along with the rest of them. And that place is below me. Below Hylaton.”

 

He returned his glance to Vissen, who looked stunned by Cartmel’s view and words. Though her expression turned to outrage as her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled as she stared at Cartmel. 

 

However, before Vissen could vocally retort, Cartmel addressed him directly as she inquired. 

 

“Tane. What are your thoughts on how to manipulate this for those fools in places like Anahita?” 

 

He felt his stomach clench as the word ‘manipulate’ was a potent reminder of his own arbitrary place. It was a moment that he was desperate to disengage from, and he put forth the most obvious answer he could. 

 

“I would say a tried-and-true. Fear.” 

 

“That is what I was thinking, too,” Cartmel put forth as she elaborated. “We sow fear that while your cities are safe, it’s a precarious safety that can only be secured with such measures. And I have a trigger that will illustrate that perfectly.” 

 

“And who will die for this trigger?” Jacinth asked in a voice of fury. 

 

“It’s no one you’re acquainted with,” Cartmel responded with a tone of sarcasm. “So you need not worry about losing one of your little friends.” 

 

He met Jacinth’s eyes, and he shook his head and his face fell to one of bleakness. 

 

But his focus didn’t remain on Jacinth, as the politician, Ja’don, spoke in a supportive tone. 

 

“I see what you’re getting at, adding Anahita and Mindis despite what class and status they may see themselves in. Mindis is white-coat manufacturing, but they’re still predominantly ignorant. Because if you stoke the fear strong enough, you’ll have some of the votes you’ll need to offset the votes you won’t get in Esus or Melchior. But I don’t believe enough to pass the measure. Melchior’s voting block is too large.”

 

“I’ve already considered that,” Cartmel contended with a smirk. “My plan includes, what I like to refer to as, ‘redirecting outcomes.’ Since the tally is double-authenticated by means of digital and hand-count, I believe the best course of action is to have votes thrown out. Which will come down to you, Sotam. You learned under the best over in Ta’er on how to get votes disqualified. That knowledge needs to be applied here.” 

 

He looked at Sotam, who chuckled nervously as he shook his head and argued. 

 

“You’re looking at nearly a quarter of the votes. That’s not only going to be difficult, but more importantly, it will be impossible to ignore. The World Council will investigate above Minu.” 

 

“I don’t accept excuses, only results,” Cartmel sneered with lividity. “The position you’re in, the position I brought to your lap, was done for that very reason. For you to get me what I want. And don’t mistake me — if you don’t, I will either make you another example. Or HEAGEN will conveniently discover your personal child laborers.”

 

His head turned out of reflex, as he truly thought he might have wretched. Brought on by rumors, he tried to tell himself weren’t true — as he couldn’t imagine such monstrous behavior — but apparently were accurate of the politician and his twisted practices. 

 

“You’re a putrid fiend,” Vissen scoffed with indignation towards Sotam. 

 

“Yes, he is,” agreed Cartmel as her eyes moved across the row of politicians, her voice striking into the minacious. “But he’s not alone. Not a one of you could look in a mirror long without headbutting your reflection. You’re all trash. This country had one of the most cherished practices of government that truly was, of the people. And yet you all subverted and tarnished it. Each one of you, vile and pathetic. You’re no better than animals. And in reality, you should all be put down as such. But even an animal has some worth. Has some use. And that is what you are to me. Useful. That’s why you’re here and why you will do as you’re told. Or again, you will be put down like the animals you are.” 

 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve speaking to us like that, considering your actions,” Sotam barked.

 

“I’ve earned that nerve you speak of,” Cartmel taunted with a chortle. “I’m only playing the game that you all started due to your lack of morals or integrity, and the disregard for the communal voice. Your problem is, you’re stupid. The lot of you. With the inability to navigate your own game while keeping your hands clean. Why most of you came to me in the first place.”

 

He felt his eyes widen as he stared at the table before him. A reflex imparted by Cartmel’s words; it pained him to agree with her. While he could not allow her observation to justify any of her actions, he had to admit she had a point. It was an admission that prompted him to consider how much drinking it would take to wash the mental vomit from his mind. 

 

But said thoughts were pushed aside, as one politician from Esus, whose name he couldn’t recall, spoke her mind. 

 

“Cartmel. You cannot keep pressing the people of Esus or of Melchior much longer. I’m down in Esus. I’ve heard the grumbles. They’re either going to rise up or move en masse. And subverting the will of the people is only going to exacerbate that.” 

 

“I have little worries of a mass exodus,” Cartmel noted with a dismissive tone. “Open borders or not, movement takes resources and money. You keep them poor enough, they can survive but never become mobile. We have seen how in some areas, the people were forced to sell everything they own to afford such. Who could they sell such meager possessions to down in Esus or Melchior? I know what I have in those cities. They are what makes this company run. As for the rising up, this is the purpose of this bill: to prevent that from happening. They must always be kept under thumb.”  

 

• • •

 

Day: Hynxina

Date: 28

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Hylaton

 

Tane let out a breath of relaxation as he answered Sloan’s question. 

 

“Checking … ummm … it’s nearly four-hundred hours. I admittedly had a lot to drink last night when I came home. Not a good habit to form. Drinking alone in excess.” 

 

He could hear Sloan’s voice over the roamphone hum in thought as she chuckled lightly. 

 

“Given who you work for, I would say you’ve earned such once in a cross-moons. But only then. I’m just discovering you. I don’t want to lose you so soon to a bad habit.” 

 

“In that case, for you, I will exercise more discipline and moderation. Then, when you’ve discovered I’m not for you, I can go at it, right?” he teased with a chuckle of his own. 

 

“I wouldn’t say that,” she laughed. “I don’t want to be responsible for damaged goods. To be the dreaded cursed ex.” 

 

“Well, to prevent such, I guess that means you’re just going to have to be stuck with me,” he suggested in a flirty tone. 

 

His smile widened as her laugh was enjoyable to hear. But as her laugh subsided, she hummed again in thought, prompting him to roll over in his bed to his back and rested his arm above his head as he asked. 

 

“And while I’m just discovering you, I have a good feeling that thoughtful noise was based on something less than playful. What’s on your mind?”

 

“Nothing towards you directly,” she admitted. “Just was thinking about who you work for. I’m abreast of everything Cartmel is accused of doing, and most likely has done. Though I know for you, it’s more about Jacinth at this point. I respect that. But sometimes my mind wanders to darker tides. Wondering why no one has taken out Cartmel yet.” 

 

“Is that a request?” he joked with her. “Because while I might be strong of body, I’m not really much of a fighter.” 

 

“That is most certainly not a request,” she responded with a laugh. “As I said, I’m just discovering you and don’t want to lose you in an untimely fashion. Or perhaps at all, though we’ll have to see how that goes.” 

 

He brought in a breath of hope to her words, but didn’t respond as she continued. 

 

“But back to Cartmel, I was only thinking how it bewilders me, how she believes she’s invincible. How history, both recent and what little we have of pre-bottleneck, have shown time and time and time again how in the end, they always get their comeuppance. Always. And yes, in the meantime there is always the regrettable damage they do to innocents. But she has to be aware of this, right? Not just her, but anyone who aligns with her, has to be aware they’re on the wrong side and their names will become pejoratives. Curses. Just like hers. Why would anyone who is aware that history is not on their side, want this as their legacy?” 

 

“I wish I could answer that. Perhaps if I could, I wouldn’t need to work,” he offered with a chuckle. “I might have an understanding of culture and how it shifts and forms, but I don’t have an understanding of the mind. The closest explanation I’ve heard was that people who are mentally ill with narcissism and sociopathy don’t care how they are remembered, only that they are.” 

 

“Hmmm,” she hummed. “That’s actually a bit depressing. Just considering this is making me yearn for something to dull the mental ache. I see why you do it.” 

 

He again laughed as he shook his head and teased. 

 

“No, dear Seno. If you’re going to hold me to such high standards, I believe it is only fair for you to be held to those standards as well.” 

 

“Fair enough,” she agreed with a laugh of her own. 

 

“Though I agree with you,” he acknowledged. “People who wield evil as they do are historically and statistically living on borrowed time. Why someone hasn’t stepped forward against her and her collaborators; I don’t know. In my head, given how the Universe likes to be cheeky, I assumed it was waiting for irony to uphold the balance.” 

 

“That seems so plausible, if not guaranteed,” she accepted with a chuckle; one he shared with her. 

 

But as silence moved between them, he felt the pleasure of their conversation buzz through his body. He released a vocal breath and shared his thoughts. 

 

“I have to say, despite the less than agreeable topic of conversation, I’m really enjoying talking to you. You’re easy to talk to. It just flows. Even while being on the phone; that can be trickier to manage.” 

 

“I feel the same way. Not just in the enjoyment, but feels like an excellent sign we can enjoy each other without being face to face,” she agreed. Though her voice took another teasing turn as she continued. “However, while I think I have proven I’m the epitome of patience — in waiting so long to have relations with you — I will admit I don’t want to have to go through that test again. Not seeing your gorgeous face, or your beautiful body, for an extended period of time. I’m thinking, the latest, next weekend. You come visit me for an extended weekend and get away from Hylaton.” 

 

He felt himself hold tight to his laugh as Sloan’s invitation prompted him by reflex to fist pump with a silent cheer. A reaction that he was happy she couldn’t see, but made him laugh at himself all the same. He released the excited breath as he spoke. 

 

“I believe that can be arranged. Though, a quick question. Just to be clear. Is this already becoming a relationship?” 

 

“I sure hope so!” she responded, prompting him again to fist pump in elation.

 

• • •

 

Day: Hynreno

Date: 29

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: Leaving the city of Melchior


 

“Give me one moment to respond to this message,” Jacinth requested as he looked at his roamphone. 

 

Tane nodded, though he knew Jacinth, now engaged in his phone, hadn’t noticed. Instead, he turned his eyes out the window of the train as it sped across the countryside, leaving Melchior and heading back to Hylaton. He smiled to himself, as it had been a pretty good day. 

 

It had begun as he had spent the better part of his early morning the prior, talking with Sloan. For hours, they conversed on various subjects common and unique to both their lives. The time they spent was remarkable to him; it only intensified his growing attraction. For while she was a sight of beauty, she was more importantly intelligent, sagacious, bold, and good-humored. Despite him recovering from non-medicated heavy drinking the night prior, she had kept him alert and immersed far past the end of their conversation. 

 

But as their talk had ended, and the energy she had imbued him with faded to his hangover, he succumbed to the fatigue and slept the better part of the morning and afternoon. Awakened finally by his hunger; he spent a leisurely day of food, working out, and enjoying some television in quiet seclusion. It was an agreeable solitude that ended upon Jacinth asking him if he wanted to accompany him down to Melchior for drinks and confabulation. Something that, because of his chat with Sloan, he agreed to enthusiastically as he was eager to share his happiness with Jacinth. 

 

It was a night that had proven to be an excellent one, as they patronized various bars and public houses — eating, drinking, and socializing. Though most of their carousing — in the form of drinking — was kept to a minimum, as they both decided to remain attentive and engaged for the evening. It was something he was glad he did, as they were out of Melchior on the last train of the night, which was always notoriously busy with workers heading to Hylaton and the occasional reveler. However, they had lucked out and were able to secure a private compartment that had allowed them to continue their conversations without unfamiliar ears overhearing. 

 

His attention turned back to Jacinth, who vocally sighed and returned his roamphone to his pocket as he asked. 

 

“So where were we? I believe you were saying of Sloan, about her being head-of-state.” 

 

“Exactly,” he nodded as he continued with the conversation. “I consciously know of her being the leader of Ki, but a surrealness struck me. As we were talking, she asked me to hold while she was pulled away momentarily to deal with official governing.” 

 

“Why should that be so foreign to you?” Jacinth asked with sincere curiosity. “You might not be a head-of-state yourself, but you’re not new to these circles. Been in them, and in some cases, the focus of them, for many quarturns. Even in your off hours, you spend them in the company of highly privileged, positioned people, as in Amala and myself.”

 

“That’s true,” he admitted, though his voice took a turn of bother as he detailed his thoughts. “I will be candid. My concern isn’t her position, as I don’t feel threatened by it or any of that nonsense. But a thought crossed my mind. What if my position with Hylatee reflects poorly on her in political circles?” 

 

“Ah!” Jacinth emoted with sudden understanding. “No. I grant you that’s a fair concern. But as you’re coming to learn, she is known for being perspicacious. And while there will always be those who will scrutinize her private life as a means to further their own political designs, the reputation for her political discernment can weather any naysay. Chiefly, she can weather any whispers on a personal level. Your concerns are rational in theory, but I assure you, without merit.” 

 

He felt the smile of relief wash across his face as he was comforted by Jacinth’s point of view. However, before he could respond, the pocket door to the private compartment slid open with such force, it slammed into its internal frame and bounced back towards a close. 

 

It was an action that made both himself and Jacinth jump as they weren’t prepared for the interruption. But the jump in fear wasn’t mollified, as the perpetrators of the act — two HEAGENs — stood in the doorframe, louring, as the first one spoke with abruptness. 

 

“Where are you going?” 

 

He glanced at Jacinth out of the corner of his eye as Jacinth smiled lightly in a passive manner and answered in a chary tone. 

 

“Our destination is Hylaton.” 

 

“Have you been drinking tonight?” the second HEAGEN asked him directly. 

 

“We have,” he confirmed and added. “But we kept it fairly straight; we’re lucid.” 

 

“If you’ve been drinking, why are you going to Hylaton?” the first HEAGEN asked with a brusque pitch. 

 

“We are residents there,” Jacinth replied with his continued guarded voice. 

 

The first HEAGEN chuckled in a skeptical manner as he scoffed and further entered the compartment. 

 

“I doubt that residents of Hylaton would be in Melchior drinking. Both of you, stand and give us your identification cards.” 

 

They both stood in at a mindful pace, not wanting to agitate the already bristling HEAGENs, Jacinth announced his intentions and slowly moved his hand. 

 

“I’m going to retrieve my identification from my chest pocket.” 

 

As he followed Jacinth’s lead, they both drew their cards and handed them over to the two HEAGENs. 

 

He brought into himself a deep breath in an attempt to instill calm, as the HEAGENs scanned their cards on the portable readers and examined. However, it seemed when Jacinth’s card was scanned, the information of what they found wasn’t to their liking, as the two HEAGENs looked at one another; their expressions changing from aggression to unease. But just as quickly, the worry that rose on the first HEAGEN’s face, was quickly replaced with tension, as he spoke in an incredulous emphasis. 

 

“You think you're being funny? Trying to pass off this fake identification; being a nothing from Melchior. Consider yourself under detainment …” 

 

“I assure you, that identification isn’t fraudulent,” Jacinth interrupted in a firm voice as he offered. “I’m willing to provide a fingerprint scan to corroborate that is, indeed, my card.” 

 

He felt his breathing increase to quick, shallow breaths; the expression on the first HEAGEN intensified to one of rage as he hissed. 

 

“Okay, smartass. You want to play games and waste our time, I will give you the game you’re looking for.” 

 

He felt himself bounce with a gasp, as the HEAGEN, in a quick move, grabbed Jacinth’s wrist, twisted and locked it. This forced Jacinth, in an effort to relieve the pressure on his arm and wrist, to bend at the waist, sending his head down to the sitting bench of the compartment.

 

It was a cruelly vicious action that compelled him to step forward to help Jacinth and call out in a demand. 

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

But his intentions to intervene were thwarted by the second HEAGEN, who moved to him quickly, grabbing him by the throat, pinning him against the window, and pulling his knife in the exclamation to his menacing behavior. 

 

His hands, by reflex, came up to meet the HEAGEN’s hand, as the choke that was upon was severe, causing him to gasp for air as he tried to remove the HEAGEN’s hold. 

 

As his eyes darted quickly around the room, looking for anything to assist freeing himself, his focus came to the first HEAGEN, who was twisting Jacinth's finger awkwardly to apply it to the print scanner. The HEAGEN let out a laugh, as he seemed to be enjoying humoring Jacinth’s request to confirm his identity, while inflicting as much pain as the HEAGEN could manage. 

 

However, as the scan was complete — and the portable reader pinged, indicating the information was available — the laugh from the HEAGEN immediately halted, as he released Jacinth’s wrist, stepped back and spoke a gasping “fuck.” 

 

“Fucking let go of him, you idiot!” the first HEAGEN yelled to his comrade in a voice of panic. 

 

He felt the air return as his throat was released and the HEAGEN who held him stepped away with a look of confusion on his face. The second HEAGEN brought his attention to the portable reader and parroted as he let out a breathy “oh, fuck!” 

 

“Indeed!” Jacinth spoke with an incensed voice that increased as he continued. “Now that we’ve established I am who I say I am, let’s have a little talk!” 

 

Both HEAGENs looked at one another, as they were coming to the realization of what they had done, and with a quick movement, turned to leave. 

 

“Stop!” Jacinth yelled with a commanding voice that impelled the HEAGEN to cease their progress and return their attention back to Jacinth as he asked. “And where do you think you’re going to go on a high-speed train?” 

 

“Well, shit!” the first HEAGEN responded. “We’re probably dead anyway after this. Might as well go out on our own terms.”

 

He looked at Jacinth, who let out a visible breath, one that made his shoulders rise and fall, as he appeared to be calming himself. A calm that was heard in his voice, as the tone and ire decreased as he asked. 

 

“What makes you think your behavior is by any means acceptable?” 

 

“We’re sorry, Sena Hylatee. Really sorry. We’re just doing what we’re told,” the second HEAGEN responded in a regretful pitch. 

 

“Do tell,” Jacinth inquired, the pique returning to his voice. “Who told you to harass and injure people at your discretion?” 

 

“Our commanding officer and her supervisor,” the first HEAGEN argued. “We have to be like that with people from Melchior. To let them know who’s in charge.” 

 

“You are not in charge! You understand that? The people are in charge. You are employees of the people, not their superiors,” Jacinth countered with anger. 

 

“Well yeah, we’re paid from the money … from the people and Hylatee and stuff,” the first HEAGEN opined. “But not from people in Melchior. Because you know … they’re stupid and poor and aren’t worth shit. Come on! You’re from better! You know how gross they are. What do you want from us?” 

 

His attention returned to Jacinth, who glared at both of the HEAGENs and responded in a deep pitch of aversion. 

 

“The people of Melchior are far superior to the two individuals that are standing before me now. What I want is your information. Names. Assignment numbers. Names of your seniors. All of it.” 

 

He brought in another deep breath that prompted him to raise his hand to his throat and rub, as it seemed his trachea was still expanding from the significant pinch the HEAGEN had imposed on him with the choke. Additionally, as Jacinth collected the information, he noted he wasn’t using the wrist or finger that had been contorted by the HEAGEN’s hand. It was a stark example of the lawlessness and brutality HEAGEN had been allowed — and even encouraged — to inflict upon the people of Melchior. Further, he knew it was another instance that would press Jacinth forward in his goals to end this all.

Chapter 43

Book 1 — Chapter 44

​

Day: Hyningo

Date: 31

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Hylaton


 

“Synad,” Tane called out. “Are you joining us for lunch?” 

 

Synad, one of the under management Jacinth’s department, paused her movement and waited for him as he asked with an entreating smile.  

 

“Jacinth isn’t responding to his messages, so I’m heading over to his office to let him know we need to head out now if we don’t want to be late. Care to help me pry him away from his work?”

 

“I would be happy to,” Synad agreed with a smile of her own. 

 

They hastened their pace towards Jacinth’s office, and with each step, his smile broadened as this was one of his favorite days of the month. The last Hyningo of each month was set aside for an interdepartmental dining, where Jacinth took his under management and some of the junior staff out for an informal midday meal. It was practice that Jacinth had started in order to build rapport among the various levels. However, it had, to his happiness, been adopted by his department, and a couple of others. It was one of the few things about working for Hylatee that reminded him of Leu’Anna, and the way his family ran the station. Resembling an invested community more than a business. 

 

But his thoughts were quickly dispersed; as they turned the corner towards the inner hall, they were stopped in their tracks at the elevator by Jacinth, standing in wait. 

 

“We were just coming to get you,” Synad announced with a chuckle. “Didn’t expect you to be here. About sacred me.” 

 

“If it’s of any consolation, your appearance from around the corner at such a clip caused me to startle as well,” Jacinth explained with a chuckle. 

 

“I was messaging you, not sure if you got any,” he noted in a pseudo-questioning manner. 

 

“I did not,” Jacinth responded. “I switched my roamphone off during a meeting and was so engaged, I forgot to turn it back on. My apologies.” 

 

“None to be had,” he guaranteed Jacinth as he patted him on the shoulder. 

 

“Now that we’re present and accounted for, with no further distractions, let’s head out,” Synad commented with a chirp.

 

“Jacinth!” Cartmel’s voice called out from further down the hall, compelling all of their heads to turn towards her as she approached with two large HEAGENs.

 

Jacinth turned and sighed, but grinned as he spoke in a low tone. 

 

“Spoke too soon, Synad.” 

 

It was a comment that prompted them all to chuckle, but it was short-lived as they returned to neutral expressions and waited for Cartmel to come and address them. 

 

“Jacinth,” Cartmel repeated as she came closer. “I want to talk …” 

 

Cartmel paused, as it seemed upon searching over them, she noted Jacinth’s hand and wrist — wrapped due to the injury he sustained from the encounter with HEAGENs. With her pause, she reached out and took his wrist between her fingers and raised his arm to inspect it more carefully as she asked. 

 

“What happened to you?” 

 

“Nothing of consequence,” Jacinth replied with a shrug of his shoulders. 

 

“I find it very hard to believe that someone as exceedingly careful as you would endure nothing of consequence,” Cartmel retorted with irritation in her pitch as she demanded. “I’m not going to go round-and-round with you, as I’m far too busy. I want to know what happened.” 

 

“If you would ask your HEAGENs to step away so we may speak in private, I will tell you,” Jacinth requested. 

 

It was a request that both seemed to aggravate and intrigue Cartmel, as she glowered while raising her eyebrows in question. 

 

“Seni, step away three meters,” Cartmel turned and ordered the HEAGENs. 

 

Upon the order, the HEAGENs did as they were told. However, as Cartmel’s gaze fell upon himself and Synad, she asked in a bothered emphasis. 

 

“There you go, Jacinth. But why do they get to be here?” 

 

“They do not need to step away, as they are both aware of what transpired, with Tane being a witness. Further, I wanted the HEAGENs to step away, as it involves some of their colleagues,” Jacinth responded. 

 

Cartmel’s eyes scanned them all as she crossed her arms and let out a visible breath that rose and lowered her shoulders with a huff. 

 

“Go on, then!” Cartmel demanded. 

 

“This past Hynreno; Tane and I were on the train and were accosted by a couple of your HEAGENs, who requested our identification, didn’t believe who I was, and became violent with us. Spraining my wrist. And before you ask, no, I have not received a HEAL induction. The physician believed it would be overkill for a soft tissue injury — doing more side-effect harm than help,” Jacinth explained. 

 

He watched as Cartmel pursed her lips and nodded calmly. However, her eyes were betraying her demeanor, as they were ablaze in anger. An emotion that was corroborated by her voice, as it came out in a rumble of fury. 

 

“You will tell me the names of these HEAGENs! Now!” 

 

Jacinth sighed and shook his head as he spoke in an assuring pitch. 

 

“I’ve already taken care of it by reporting them …” 

 

“Oh, please!” Cartmel interrupted with an eruption of her volume. “Your brand of taking care of things is unimpressive at best, impotent at worst.” 

 

“Why are you so angry?” Jacinth asked with a chuckle of disbelief. “Is it because the only person permitted to raise a hand to me is you?” 

 

He felt his own light chuckle come to him — one he tried to suppress, as he brought his hand up to his nose and rubbed, hoping Cartmel wouldn’t see the grin behind it. 

 

It was a grin that went unnoticed, as Cartmel scowled at Jacinth and lowered her voice and retorted.

 

“Comedy, like reprisal, isn’t one of your strengths. However, to your comment … in a way, yes. it’s a matter of HEAGEN knowing their place, too. They are below you and me, and must be reminded of that. I want the names.” 

 

“I do not have the names committed to memory,” Jacinth pointed out. “I made an official complaint and have moved on. I recommend you do the same.” 

 

“Fine,” Cartmel stated firmly. “As I said earlier, I don’t have time to deal with this right now. But I will deal with this — with your help or not. I always find out. Always. And I will do what you don’t have the spine to do. In the meantime, I was hoping to speak with you about something. But since you’ve decided to press my buttons, I’ll wait for another time.” 

 

As Cartmel turned and walked away, the HEAGENs, who were waiting patiently away, waited for her to pass and followed without a word. 

 

He looked at Jacinth, who sighed and spoke in an inflection of disappointment as he reached for the elevator button. 

 

“We’re going to be late.” 

 

“I already informed Karsk we were running behind when I left my office. Plus, we won’t be that late,” Synad assured Jacinth, though she continued in a bubbly cadence. “I have to say I agree with your assessment, Jacinth. That the only one allowed to pick on you is Cartmel. That is how it is in my family. We can be downright vile to each other. But Deo forbid anyone outside the family would treat us poorly; we’d go to war for that.” 

 

The laugh that came forward was one of complete empathy and understanding, as that was a shared experience with his siblings. He looked at Jacinth, who was joining in the laugh, though Jacinth shook his head as he commented. 

 

“I envy you. I wish I had a family willing to go to war for me. Yet, I have a feeling her motives aren’t care-based.” 

 

“Ooohhh,” Synad gushed with concern. “I didn’t want to instill envy or longing. I suppose in my own little way, I was just speaking hopefully. And because of that, to shift the subject, those were some very large HEAGENs with your mother. In my mind, I imagined the HEAGENs that bothered you on the train were that large, given they had you up against the wall, Tane.” 

 

“No. They were normal Lost-Peoples-sized HEAGENs,” he clarified.

 

“It’s so odd in a way,” Synad reflected. “You really don’t see many HEAGENs in the ranks from the Watzeen, Oken, or Corachal peoples. You do see some with blended heritage here and there, but again, so few full-blooded. Why do you think that is?” 

 

“By design, in a way,” Jacinth briefly expounded. “Mother has always thought that groups like Watzeen, Oken, Attata, and especially Nichal have too strong a connection with their groups. Such firm bonds pose a problem in her mind, as it would marginalize the loyalty she demands out of HEAGEN. In her eyes, with Humes and Lost Peoples, they don’t have the sentimentality of heritage, and therefore are more likely to attach to other forms of belonging.” 

 

“That’s damn cynical,” he observed with a shake of his head. 

 

“But that makes perfect sense,” Synad recognized with a sad sigh. “Isolation, in this form of lack of community, is a powerful tool. It renders the victim easily malleable. This is not far from what we were talking about earlier … what Cartmel is doing down in Melchior.” 

 

He looked at Jacinth, who nodded and seemed to consider the conversation that he wasn’t privy to. Though, as a thought came to Jacinth’s mind, he appended to both the present and prior conversation with a chuckle and an expression of firmness. 

 

“However, the inverse must be considered. That is, in part, what makes Melchior so dangerous to my mother. By marginalizing them in the brutal way she has, she has inadvertently created a community to which the usual divide-and-conquer technique doesn’t apply. It’s that community that I think is going to be what ends up saving us all.” 

 

• • •

 

Tane inhaled deeply and breathed in the sea air. It was a moment of refreshment that was always welcome. 

 

Though to say he was in need of such wouldn’t have been wholly accurate. He had enjoyed a relatively fine day. The workday had gone smoothly, with little to fret over. The midday meal meetup with employees went extremely well with a record turnout of not just those looking for a free meal; but as conversations were had, those who were of similar mind. It was something that gave him hope that if ever there were something to happen, or a schism, many current employees were highly aligned with Jacinth’s vision for the company’s future.

 

Off that encouraging revelation, he was graced by a phone conversation with Sloan that went extremely well. In part to Sloan receiving a gift of his family’s special dinner boxes they supplied by request only on a seasonal basis that included not only meats from the station, but other produce offerings grown on site to create a whole dish. It was a gift that he decided, if she wasn’t keen on it, he could play off as something casual: him just sharing part of his life experiences. Or, if she was enthused, offer it as a more romantic gesture. 

 

To his happiness, she was over the moons with delight, and accepted it as the romantic gift it was intended as. 

 

The gladness continued, as now he was in Anahita at the National University. Though he imagined it was difficult for anyone not to be in a good mood while here. 

 

Situated on the seaside, it afforded objectively the more beautiful views available in Minu. Accompanied by a stunning campus featuring some of the most aesthetically pleasing architecture and natural gardens he had seen, it was a combination that induced a sincere calm in him he found fascinating.

 

But his pleasure wasn’t only with his surroundings. He had made the train ride to Anahita to attend a lecture given by an old instructor, one of his closest mentors throughout his education, and someone he still connected with, Maloteok Laith Resrew. 

 

He felt a grin come to him as he thought of the word “maloteok.” An Attata word that literally translated to “master”, as it seemed that Basic-based Academia was determined to honor and keep the Attata histories that accompanied it and kept many of the titles in their Attata original. 

 

Though he believed referring to Laith as simply a “master” was doing her a bit of a disfavor — in his mind, she was far above such.

 

A Corachal of some 200 quarturns, she had dedicated her life to learning, amassing many Tier-1 degrees and world renowned accomplishments along the way. This dedication to learning didn’t end with her personally, but extended with passing along her knowledge — applying the adage ‘The purpose of a great leader is to create more leaders, not followers’ — which brought her more fame. For her principles had produced, by numbers, the greatest concentration of successful graduates who went on to make notable marks in their fields. 

 

Even in studies she was not an expert on, everyone was always clamoring to take one of her classes, just to learn from her in hopes of growing in their own fields and minds. 

 

Though, as the world had been changing, she announced she was changing with it. Taking time off from teaching to study the world on a deeper level and make sense of the shifts. Shifts that weren’t only felt in Minu, but in many places around the world. Shifts that were making people apprehensive and wondering what was happening to the collective. 

 

From this, Laith had studied, wrote a couple of books, and was now expanding her findings by presenting free lectures around the world: kicking off her tour at the National University in Anahita. 

 

A lecture that was eagerly awaited by many, as was illustrated by the very long line in which he was now standing, waiting to get into the auditorium. A lecture he hoped would not only shed light on the shifts occurring around everyone, but encourage those who were sitting on the proverbial fence to involve themselves in the shifts toward what was right and just.

 

• • •

 

Tane looked down at the lecture program and read the title in his mind with a smile. 

 

The Perils of Peace: The Radicalization of Restlessness and Stagnation from a Cultural, Psychological, and Economic Perspective. A lecture by Maloteok Laith Resrew.

 

A smile that he felt was plastered on his face was not only brought on by the excellence of the lecture, but by the current anticipation that currently had him leaning against a column in the auditorium reception hall.

 

The lecture itself was a thing of brilliance. Lively. Informative. Thought-provoking. Hope-provoking. And, like the Laith he was familiar with, left him — and he imagined every member of the audience — encouraged that he could exercise his own agency in bringing about the changes needed in the world. 

 

Though the topic of the lecture wasn’t an easy one to digest, with so many facets to consider and speaking in generalities that didn’t account for all potentials. Laith had presented a postulation that some countries in the world were seeing an uptick in extremism based on conversely polar reasoning. The first being poverty — pointing out the abject poverty experienced in Minu and several other places in the world. It was a self explanatory logic as to why it had radicalized people. The second — being the main point of the title — was that many in the world, who were living in the median and above, had not seen such peace, security, and abundance. In that, people were falling into self-reflection that was failing to satisfy deep-seated needs. The desires to make their “mark” on the world. 

 

In his mind, Laith was certainly on the right mark. When he had first heard those thoughts, it had brought to mind a pre-Bottleneck journal from a soldier from the many wars he had read. The soldier cited an offensive that was going to take place the next day, and how the soldiers, while perfectly sober to the fact he would most likely not survive, was honored to be taking part in what they described as the most significant battles of the war. It was as Laith spoke of, the physiological aspect of being part of something greater, making their mark, and interestingly, fulfilling a supposed call of the warrior.

 

It was an interesting piece to the puzzle that struck him acutely — to the point it prompted him to chuckle in amazement to himself as it was something he noted early in his studies: the more arresting commonalities. Cross peoples, cross-cultural, cross gender, and cross time. The veneration of the warrior was a constant. In some cases, so particularly similar across some groups, that the only explanations that were acceptable were the ones of parallel thought.

 

Though said spirit didn’t manifest in each person with purity. As with all things, in some people, the notion would become twisted and distorted, even resented by those who couldn’t — or more importantly, wouldn’t — fill that need. 

 

He recalled a passage in Laith’s book that had been featured in the extensive program for the lecture. As he paged through the program, he quickly came to the excerpt and read the paragraphs in his mind. 

 

While groups are heterogeneous in makeup, using a common, upper-level, economical subset as the identifier; subgroups are being formed based on two prevailing practices. 

 

Both groups recognize the “warrior spirit” as a valid aspect to the living condition.

 

The first subgroup, in general, understanding the likelihood of participating in a war was improbable, they have brought their focus to what most subscribe as the most difficult of tests; the test of the soul. I have termed this group the “creationists” based on their approach. This group was observed to examine themselves and find their “warrior call” was both micro-environmental and internal; to create as a means to sate their needs. 

 

The second subgroup, however, harbors a different attitude towards fulfilling such needs. This group, which I have termed “restless,” has been observed longing for something more “tangible” than what the seemingly intangible soul could provide. This group is where we find the most negative reactions to stimuli, oftentimes in the forms of resentment, discontentment, overt delusional individualism, and the desire for aggression and destruction; often against the innocent. These hostile impulses are played out by the “restless” themselves, or by those of higher position and power delegated by the subgroup to “live out” their negative acts in a catharsis by proxy. 

 

He sighed as he returned his eyes forward from the page; he had seen this himself in his position at Hylatee. People seemingly living out their darkest thoughts vicariously through Cartmel and her actions. Communities within countries under Hylatee ‘control’ that enjoyed a high standard of living who have of recent begun to exhibit a brain drain with conspiracy theories and rhetoric that were delusional and disturbing. Such things all seemed to give a great deal of gravity to Laith’s theory. Though, he reminded himself with an emerging grin — Laith, as a teacher, wouldn’t have approved of his active confirmation bias.

 

It was a thought that made him chuckle aloud, one that rendered him insecure, as he looked around to see if anyone had noticed him laughing to himself like an idiot. 

 

Though his ‘idiot’ designation was born out of being autocritical, he was relieved to find that no one was paying him any mind. However, as his eyes continued to scan the crowd that was in wait, he found another smile come to him when he came across Master Consign Linkraf and Raer in conversation. 

 

He pushed himself from his lean on the column and approached them, pleased to see someone he knew. 

 

“Greetings,” he announced as he met them. “Happy to see you here.” 

 

“Tane!” Raer exclaimed in an inflection of surprise and happiness. “Good to see you.” 

 

“Tane, always a pleasure,” Linkraf added as he offered his arm for a wrist grab greeting.

 

It was one he accepted as he gripped, shook, and inquired in an upbeat lilt. 

 

“I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew here. In fact, I didn’t even know they were going to have this little meet-and-greet after the lecture until I arrived. They informed me at the entry that I was invited. What are you doing here?”

 

“The number of seasoned Corachals in academia isn’t a prolific one,” Linkraf responded with a chuckle. “We’re here; but it’s a smallish group where nearly everyone knows one another. I have taught and studied alongside Laith on a handful of occasions.” 

 

“Ah yes,” he noted. “I suddenly recall you’re not just a Master Consign, but a Master of Academics, too. It seems almost impossible you wouldn’t have crossed paths at one point in time.” 

 

“You’re perfectly correct,” Linkraf stated with a modest smile as he proceeded to ask. “And yourself? Your invite?” 

 

“Laith was one of my closest mentors through my education and beyond. We still correspond occasionally. She’s always been extraordinarily generous with her time and access. Which brings me to wonder why I would be surprised she would hold such an after-event. It’s actually sincerely on brand. Though even if there wasn’t a personal attachment, I would have attended, as she’s one of the great minds.”   

 

“Indeed,” Linkraf agreed. “If we weren’t acquainted, the topic at hand was something that interested us both. One that raised concerns.” 

 

He felt the confusion touch his brow and his head tilted to the side by reflex as he asked in a lowered tone. 

 

“I’m sorry. What type of concerns?”

 

“Concerns of distinction,” Raer responded in her own muted volume. “As a traveling Consign, I’ve seen my fair share of the restlessness that Maloteok Resrew spoke of. However, we … as in my fellow … I’m sure you know of what I speak. We were aware in her writing that she stated that not all wrongdoings are only perceived. But we received word that there was pressure from sources … sources you can imagine … requesting in no uncertain terms to scale back her nuance and to flatly disavow certain groups.”

 

He felt his stomach drop slightly, as he was clearly reading Raer’s ambiguous language and filling in the open spaces with Idemere and Hylatee — specifically Cartmel. But before he could state or ask, Raer continued. 

 

“As you know, the group isn’t going to press anyone to validate their work. If her opinion was negative, that would be viewed as unfortunate given her authority, but just another sigh and move on. However, she approached some of our members after not-so-subtle ultimatums were offered.” 

 

“So it’s not just a happenstance you’re here. I’m unclear. Laith didn’t do that in the lecture. She all but endorsed Ide … the group. She stated what they were fighting for was certainly not a delusional perception, but a tangible threat. She made the distinction. She took a stand and a side. I … Is she in danger?” he asked with a nervousness in his voice. 

 

“Under the best circumstances, or the most regrettable of opinions, we still would have attended,” Linkraf assured with a light smile. “Though, as Raer mentioned, she approached us. And given this is the start of the lecture series, the one that would most likely garner the most media attention, it was decided to be overly cautious and mitigate any potential danger while appearing as normal as possible.” 

 

Suddenly, a thought came to mind. The meeting with the politicians, the Hynyengo prior, and Cartmel’s threat that someone would be an example to initiate her need to increase HEAGEN’s presence.

 

He shook his head as the words came out in a hurried manner, as he tried to lower his volume even further. 

 

“Cartmel, she’s trying to do something with HEAGEN and some politicians I can’t go into detail about here, as I’m now damn sure there are some Watchers here. But she said someone would be a triggering point, a death. Was she planning on Laith?” 

 

“That I cannot answer with certainty,” Raer responded in an apologetic expression. “With as many people Cartmel is cross with, it would be difficult to determine the most likely target. There are simply too many of them.”

 

“Too right,” he interjected with agreement.

 

“But with any considerable intimidation that is brought to the group, it is treated as a worst-case scenario. Again, overt caution is applied,” Linkraf added in a lifted pitch. 

 

“Everything’s okay,” Raer chirped as she reached out and rubbed his upper arm gently, inducing calm. “Place those fears aside and trust in those who have proven to be competent in their protection. Focus on and enjoy the moment. I promise you, in this, all will be well.” 

 

A slight grin came to his face as he was feeling more secure in the situation, but couldn’t help but acknowledge the opportunity Raer’s words had provided him to tease as he quipped with a chuckle. 

 

“In this, you say. I like how you’re careful in distinguishing ‘in this, all will be well.’ Not allowing promises beyond the moment.” 

 

“And risk being labeled an unreliable narrative?” Raer feigned with a gasp and a giggle of her own. “Perish the thought.” 

 

But as Raer’s giggle subsided, her voice returned to a more comforting pitch as she offered with encouragement. 


“You’re right, I cannot make promises. But I will ask you to put faith in the excellent authorities that surround me, and believe me when I tell you, in the end, all will be well.”

Chapter 44

Book 1 — Chapter 45 - Part I

​

Day: Hynyia

Date: 32

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Melchior


 

“Look who’s here!” Akiva exclaimed with a great deal of excitement in her voice. 

 

Miles looked up from the commons room table and lightly smiled as his eyes fell on the man and woman who were accompanying Akiva. For while he didn’t know who they were, he had a very good idea based on their appearance. The woman could have easily been mistaken as an older sister of Ash. While the man, despite his lighter skin tone, was obviously the genetic contributor of Ash’s straight dark hair and beautiful smile. It was a notion that was quickly confirmed, as Ash — who was sitting at the table across from him — turned in her seat and called out with enthusiasm. 

 

“Papa! Mama! What are you doing here?”

 

His smile increased as Ash jumped from her seat and rushed over to greet them with many hugs and kisses. It was a moment that brought him happiness; to see Ash overjoyed. And a little envy, as he had never experienced such a greeting with his late parents.

 

But before his thoughts could linger in the darker places of his childhood memories, Ash gestured toward him, began to guide her parents over, and spoke excitedly. 

 

“Oh! Now that you are here, you finally get to meet Miles.” 

 

He stood from his chair and offered his arm out to Ash’s father, who was closest, and felt the surprise strike his mind and eyes, and he was pulled into a sturdy hug as he spoke. 

 

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Miles. Ash has talked about you extensively. Don’t let that put you on the spot or anything. She talks about everyone extensively.”

 

“Yes, she does and has,” Ash’s mom confirmed as she moved in to greet him. “Now, I can’t hug you with this serving platter in my arms, but I’m sure you’ll be getting hugs from me in the future.”

 

“Can I take the platter for you … Seno … how would you like me to address you?” he asked.

 

“Well, that’s partially up to you,” Ash’s mom replied. “We enjoy Mama and Papa Ero; though that might be a little too informal for your comfort. Or you can call us by our names; I’m Harshita, this is Horacee.”

 

“And if you’re a stickler for decorum, or you do our little girl wrong in any way, it’s Sena and Seno Ero,” Horacee added with a chuckle, indicating his tease. 

 

It was a tease that brought a laugh forward as nodded his head and commented. 

 

“There is no danger in the latter, I promise you that. But I will happily accept the equidistant: Harshita and Horacee.”

 

“Wonderful. And yes, you may take this,” Harshita added as she handed him the platter. 

 

“Hurry! Hurry!” Akiva encouraged as she bounced up and down near the seating area of the room. “Mama and Papa Ero brought food for all of us, and I can’t wait much longer.”

 

Another laugh came forward as he followed Harshita and Horacee over to the sitting area, and noted.

 

“You’ll get fed, Akiva. And given how large and heavy this platter is, I suspect we’ll all have our fill.” 

 

As he made his way over to the coffee table, he sat the platter down on it and followed as he sat on the floor; allowing himself a view of everyone as they took their places on the couch and chaise. He moved his hand to the corner of the cloth and asked Harshita.

 

“Shall I? Or should we wait for Wayra.” 

 

“Wayra said he would be up in a few and not to wait. And you’re very kind. Thank you, yes,” Harshita answered. 

 

He removed the cloth, carefully pulling it back, and felt a melting strike him as the warm smells of spices and herbs enticed him with a wave. He felt his eyes close by reflex as he nearly moaned. 

 

“Oh dear Deo, does this smell so good.”

 

As his eyes opened and returned to food, Horacee leaned forward and pulled from the top a small stack of disposable plates and set them aside. Pulling one from the top, he then retrieved a pair of serving tongs, which were situated among the food, and spoke with a chuckle. 

 

“Let me make Akiva a plate first before she bursts from anticipation.” 

 

It was a chuckle he shared, as Akiva let out a squeal of non-verbal happiness at her being fed first. But his attention didn’t remain on the food; he turned his eyes to Ash as she spoke. 

 

“I didn’t know you were coming over. Or bringing food. It’s midday. Is everything okay?” 

 

“Perfectly fine,” Harshita responded with a chirp. “Long story short, Horacee was asked to switch his Hyningo and Hynyia days for a couple days on the weekend, as they are doing significant upgrades to the lightning farm up on the lower slopes, near the Loeesuvu Gap. Since he was going to be moving his schedule around, I was able to trade today with a coworker. But Horacee decided yesterday, when he was bored, to cook and make plans for us to cook late and early and bring a good portion of it over as a surprise.” 

 

“Oh dear Deo,” Akiva groaned with pleasure around the food in her mouth. “A welcome surprise and one you should consider doing more often. This tastes so good, I may cry. Thank you, Papa and Mama Ero.” 

 

“You’re welcome, dear,” Horacee replied with a shy smile of pride on his face as he continued to make plates for everyone, handing one to him. 

 

However, his attention was piqued as something Harshita said prompted him to ask Horacee. 

 

“Thank you for the plate, but did I hear correctly, you work at the lightning farm? What is it you do there, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

 

“Not at all,” Horacee responded. “I’m an electrical engineer by study. A Master Electrician by trade. Been at the lightning farm for ages. Before Ash was born. Since I’m such a seasoned veteran, who knows about every component, every centimeter of the farm, I’m what they call a floater. I float around to whoever needs me or whatever they need me for.” 

 

“He’s a certified expert,” Ash added with a gush and a beam of admiration on her face. 

 

It was an admiration he could share, as he noted with reverence.

 

“That’s amazing. A demanding job. A dangerous job, I understand. I don’t know how you do it.” 

 

“Show him your lightning scar," Akiva requested, as she swallowed with an audible gulp and continued. “It’s so crazy-cool. It goes from his hand, all the way down his arm and side, down the leg to the foot. It looks like the root of a tree. I’ve known a couple Watzeen who were struck by lightning while flying, and they never had anything cool like that.” 

 

“Oh, dear Deo!” he exclaimed in shock. “Of course you’re okay, as you’re sitting here happy and healthy … but are you okay?”

 

“I’m just as you said, happy and healthy,” Horacee attested with a smile. “And yes, it can be a dangerous job. Even more so when you’re not careful. This happened when I was new to the job and wasn’t careful. And while I’m happy to know you think the scar is cool, Akiva; it’s a testament to me not taking care of myself when the whole of it blistered and ruptured, leaving the scar. There will be other times to show him when food isn’t involved.” 

 

“Good point,” Akiva noted around another mouth full of food. 

 

“So, is there any food left, or did Akiva eat it all?” Wayra asked as he entered the room, with Ta’ Chima and Porter behind him. 

 

“Oh, there will never be enough with her appetite,” Harshita noted with a chuckle. “But we both considered how much Akiva could eat, and we multiplied that by three.” 

 

He glanced towards Akiva, who danced in her seat with both happiness and agreement. But his attention returned to Ash, who asked with a laugh. 

 

“Feeling like the timeline just glitched here as I’m about to ask this again in a short timeframe. But what are you doing here?” 

 

“A bit of a problem that needs solved, tonight,” Ta’ Chima answered with a heaviness in his voice. 

 

As Wayra and Ta’ Chima sat to the settee, and Porter joined him on the floor, all eyes were on Ta’ Chima, who looked at Harshita and Horacee and spoke. 

 

“I’m going to divulge something pressing … that can’t wait. And while I’m aware I’m intruding on your meal and time, I would give you the option to wait somewhere else while we discuss …” 

 

“Not needed, but appreciated,” Harshita interrupted with a gentle voice as she lifted her hand, gesturing for him to pause. “I’m well aware of my daughter’s new affiliations and what those can and will mean. We don’t fear information. Unless you want us to leave for your own reasons, we’re happy to stay.”

 

Ta’ Chima smiled lightly and nodded as he took a visible breath and explained. 

 

“Let me provide a little background to what is happening. There is, unfortunately, an illness that is spreading through the factory village that is making people extremely ill. I won’t go into the details of the illness, but it’s behaving aggressively in the village because of what you might expect: malnutrition. Because of this, it requires a very specific medication, a ducopharacilliin and phenetrofitamicin combination, which can only be administered through injection. The medication is temperature-sensitive, light-sensitive, and has a short shelf life even in proper storage. Several hospitals and doctors have been made aware of what’s happening. However … and it’s this ‘however’ that brings me to the next issue. While there is universal healthcare, as you know, what you might not know that you’re required to have a physical address to qualify. And while most of the people in the factory village have their mail “in care” of the Sanctuaries, laws state that there are limitations to how many people can claim a physical address to receive the healthcare benefits.” 

 

He rolled his eyes with aggravation; learning this aligned perfectly with the government’s — and society’s in general — disdain for the poor. The government knew damn well of the existence of the factory village. They also damn well knew these people weren’t using the address of Sanctuary to game the system. It was just a governmental exercise in punishing the poor for being poor.

 

But he pushed his thoughts and rising anger aside, bringing his focus to Ta’ Chima as he continued. 

 

“Persons like myself, those dubbed as street doctors, have approached some of our colleagues at the hospitals and clinics to see if we can procure the injections. This wasn’t possible. While they do have some in stock, apparently because most medications are provided by Hylatee, they have implemented what is called a population cap. Meaning … if say a clinic services 500 people, Hylatee only allows the clinic to order and have a certain percentage based on the population. This percentage varies based on the medication that treats said disease, illness, likelihood of participation, and even coverage for accidental damage during transport of storage. As you might guess, the injection we need for the people in the village isn’t in high supply. Not only because they don’t count the people in the village as part of the legitimate population, but it’s not a good look to admit a simple illness is getting out of hand because of malnutrition.” 

 

“And letting them die is a better look?” Ash asked rhetorically with ire in her voice. 

 

“I say with perfect honesty; I cannot fathom what they’re thinking. You’re right; it’s worse, and yet they’re not interested in assisting. Funds aren’t even the issue. I can tell you that with certainty, because this all brings me to the core of the problem. We gathered enough funds through our own means to purchase the medicine through legitimate chains we have. We were turned away. So we looked to some of our allies in Ki. They were eager to help, though it cost us a little more as was brought in through unauthorized methods, as it is considered contraband. It reached Melchior successfully, but only a kilometer before it arrived, the delivery man was stopped by HEAGEN and the package was confiscated. Thankfully, the delivery man got away, and they didn’t give chase. He suspected they actually robbed him more than they thought he had anything illegal; he told them, because it’s a refrigerated key-lock box, it was his daily meals while he traveled. Too, he was able to follow them to the station house where they have it located. It’s one of the smaller ones on the southwest end, not far from the residential divide. From what our sources have told us, anything confiscated is kept at the local station houses until around zero hundred hours, to which head HEAGEN comes around and collects seizures to store at the main HEAGEN station, supposedly as evidence.”

 

Ta’ Chima paused as his face fell further into distress, and his voice grew more somber. 

 

“We need to get that medication. Can’t simply order more as we don’t have the funds available for that. I’m asking for your help.” 

 

“And our help you’ll have,” Akiva confirmed in a firm and earnest tone. 

 

“Agreed,” Porter acceded.

 

“I believe we all want to help in this,” Wayra stated as his breath released with a hint of weariness. “What we need to do first is figure out how. So let’s go over what we know. What we have.” 

 

“I’ll start,” Porter offered as he adjusted in his seat and prepared to speak at length. “We know-slash-have the location of the station house. It’s considered a small one, but still will have cameras in and around the location. There will be six HEAGENs on staff. If we’re lucky, five of them will be out on patrol, leaving only the one minding the station. We know the general layout of the building and grounds, since Hylatee is obsessed with uniformity, they make all the layouts standard so people can transition more easily when being moved around. We know the robotic drones used for surveillance around the station house do have parabolic microphones and cameras. But they are also programmed to patrol in a grid pattern that is predictable. We know what the box looks like, its dimensions, and I already have a large enough pack to put it in. And finally, we can rely on the fact these are H-3 HEAGEN and in Melchior. Meaning, we can put some consideration in utilizing their incompetence, while not forgetting they’re still a threat.”

 

“So it’s just a matter of walking in and walking out,” Akiva commented with a chuckle. 

 

“In a way, yes,” Porter confirmed, brandishing his own grin. “As I said, the layout is consistent. We know the storage is located in the back left of the building, directly off a hall, attached to the gated STV lot. That’s our best bet. To go in through the lot gate. In the door that opens to the hall, in the storage and back out. The problem is they are all pad-key-locked with cameras everywhere. Though they are straight pad-key locks with no biometric, card swipe, or crystal chip double authentication needed. A small benefit to being in Melchior: they don’t fund the equipment that well.” 

 

“You’re a computer deod, Miles,” Ash pointed out with a hopeful voice. “Can you computer your way through the locks and other things?”

 

He smiled naturally as Ash’s complimentary words brought a light flush to his face and neck. But the kindness cycled through his thoughts as quickly as they came. For the answer to her question wouldn’t bring them closer to a solution. He let the smile fade lightly as he sighed aloud and admitted. 

 

“Yes, and no. Unfortunately, mostly no. Keypads all have some sort of ports that can circumvent the process. But I would need a little more information on the type as it could be as simple as a line interface or a bit more complicated as needing to know which language it uses to avoid syntax errors and tripping the alarm. We don’t have that kind of time. Additionally, it would still leave the cameras, which would be watching me screw around with the keypad. Not a great option. And as far as getting into the station’s network; that’s linked with Hylatee and beyond my capacity. We would need Dagda for that scope; and he’s currently missing.” 

 

“Not missing, on the move,” Wayra noted. “We know he is fine. Only, he said he needed to move to a less than desirable location, and because of that, it would take him time to secure his anonymity to his comfort. He’ll be back soon. And I’m sure angry he missed this opportunity to stick it to HEAGEN.”

 

As everyone chuckled at Wayra’s comment, it was a temporary reprieve from the perturbation they were all experiencing at the puzzle before them. A puzzle that could literally mean lives lost. He couldn’t agree more with Ta’ Chima — he couldn’t fathom the thinking process of those who would deny such care. He knew there was disdain for the poor; but this translated to full out active aggression towards them. To him, it read as they didn’t just want to punish the poor; they wanted to kill them. And again, he couldn’t fathom why.

 

But his contemplation on trying to understand the evil of people’s actions and justifications was rushed away, as Horacee cleared his throat and spoke. 

 

“If I may offer a potential solution. Have you considered just cutting the power to bypass it all?” 

 

He looked around as everyone did the same. Sizing each other’s reactions to the suggestion. It was one that was raising hopeful eyebrows and grins, as Akiva let out an ebullient laugh and gushed. 

 

“The ‘keep it simple stupid’ approach. Oh! I love you, Papa Ero.” 

 

“No. This is good,” Wayra affirmed as he leaned forward in his seat and smiled with optimism. “But help us out with this. It’s not as simple as cutting a line, as they’re underground. Further, we don’t … as in the collective ‘we’ that is the organization … we try our best to avoid anything that would cause collateral damage. I’m not comfortable taking out the electricity to a city block, as we don’t know what needs people have. They may have electrical devices that are life-giving essential; health related.” 

 

“And that right there is part of the reason I’m proud of my daughter associating with your group,” Horacee declared. “Your moral compass is stronger as lawbreakers than those who claim to protect the law. Though I don’t consider what you’re doing as breaking the law; you’re just chipping it a little here and there.” 

 

“Aahhh! I love that!” Akiva squealed with elation. “We don’t break the law. We chip it. I’m so using that.” 

 

“Just send me good thoughts when you do as credit,” Horacee requested with a laugh as he returned his attention back to Wayra. “To your concerns, it won’t require some movie-esque blowing a system up. But it will take a little finagling. Here me out. Because all the electrical lines are underground, they are generally inaccessible, with the exception of junction boxes or meter boxes. I’m familiar with the configuration in that part of town. The station house is right on the edge of where many of the gated areas are. Businesses, factories, warehouses that all required, well, gates. It was decided a while back to move the meter boxes off the properties, as it was a hassle to measure usage with so many obstacles. They created, what we call, meter junctions. Serving as a junction box and a meter box in one.” 

 

“I’m following,” Wayra noted, as his expression was one of deep concentration. 

 

“Picture the meter box sort of looking like a breaker box,” Horacee continued. “Each switch, or breaker, represents a part of the building, floor, whatever. The meter junctions are similar in that each part represents a meter to a single unit. But it will not be as simple as flipping a switch on or off. Granted, there is a way to shut off the electricity at the meter, but that takes orders, keys, equipment that would be far from discrete. Even if there are sympathizers to your cause who could do it, it would still take more time than you have allotted. Therefore, you’re going to need to short the meter to take out the electricity at the station house. I can provide you with the meter junction location, how to open it, and which meter it will be.” 

 

“But how do we short it?” Ash asked, with some apprehension in her voice. 

 

“Overload it. Accidentally-on-purpose hike the voltage to the service line. You see, there are two lines on the meter. The supply line, running from the main lines to the meter and the service line running from the meter to the station,” Horacee explained. “If there’s too much voltage going to the station, that will overload the circuit.” 

 

“Won’t they have a backup generator?” Akiva asked. 

 

“They definitely do,” Horacee responded, but grinned as he elaborated. “But the generator won’t turn on immediately. For places like that, they are required to have an assessment time that will essentially read the flows, test continuity, and check for the reason the electricity went out in the first place. It’s kind of like making sure there aren’t breaks in the building that, with a continuous flow of energy, would exacerbate the problem. Further, the switch period from the main line over to the generator is a minimum of fifteen minutes. In case something did go wrong, it won’t feed back into the service while people are working on it.”

 

“So we have 15 minutes,” Porter checked for clarity. “Though that doesn’t say how we get those 15 minutes.” 

 

“Roughly, yes,” Horacee confirmed with an encouraging smile. “My thought was, you could send it to ground. But that would leave the door open and allow it to be exposed to enaid coming in and doing damage to the other meters. I’m guessing you all know the lines, boxes, and meters are like most major electrical equipment. Protected from enaid with an energy field to keep the enaid from passing through and shorting things out. The energy field is only on as long as the circuit is closed. When we open the door, that opens the circuit, causing the field to go down. Why, if you ever see someone working on those damn things, they look like they’re in a panic. Trying to hurry to get the work done before an enaid shows up and makes more work for them.” 

 

As everyone chuckled at the understanding and consideration, it lingered for a moment, then disappeared as a quiet fell upon them as they all fell into deep thought about how they would accomplish this part of the task. 

 

Suddenly, all their attention were drawn to Ash, who vocally gasped, as if something had come to her. She turned to Horacee as she asked in a careful tone. 

 

“If the boxes are designed to protect against enaid, can we use an enaid to do that exact thing? I mean … can I take a charmed item, place it against the service line, uncharm it, and pray it directs the enaid through the service line to short it out?”

 

“Well … yes,” Horacee replied with a burgeoning smile of pride towards Ash. “Applying an extra voltage source to what it’s not rated for will damage it. The whole reason we have protective fields against enaid in the first place. That’s my big-brained-beauty!” 

 

“Papa,” Ash groaned around her smile as she seemed embarrassed by the praise given to her. “It’s an idea. I can’t guarantee it will work. Enaid have a mind of their own, and I don’t know if there’s anything that can specifically direct them.” 

 

All attention was drawn to Wayra, who raised his hand — with three of his fingers extended, as if he had three points to make. Though his eyes were closed, implying he might have been gracing futures. After a couple of moments, his eyes opened, and he shared his thoughts or visions. 

 

“I’m not fond of the idea of you sticking a piece of metal into an electric line. I will do it. But if you charm something small, breakable in the palm, I can cup my hand around it and the line. I see … it seems like that will do it. I will need to be grounded. I have protective gear, but if you could, Horacee, take a look over it to make sure it will do. Your question, Miles.” 

 

He felt the chortle come forward, as he was still getting used to Wayra being such a keen reader of minds. He knew Wayra would generally avoid it, but in moments such as these, he unapologetically wielded his graces. An act that never became unremarkable, forcing him to stutter slightly with surprise as he spoke. 

 

“Oh. Yeah, no, yeah. I was thinking about the locks themselves.” 

 

“Right here,” Porter announced with a raise of his hand. “I’ve got an electromagnetic device that will, quote-end-quote, pull the bolt from the locked position. You just press it in the general area behind the bolt, initiate it, and it will pull the bolt back into the assembly. The only downside is it’s not quiet. I don’t know if the ambient noise of the city will be enough to drown that out.” 

 

“And that’s Akiva." Wayra pointed towards Akiva, holding his singler finger, implying that was the third part of what he had seen with his graces. 

 

He turned his attention towards Akiva, who grinned with a mischievous expression and tilted her head from side to side quickly, playing coy with her thoughts. Though she didn’t wait for anyone to further encourage her to share, as she clapped her hands together and shared. 

 

“Damn right, that’s me. I’ve got the drone and noise covered. A diversion, if you will. I’ve got a handful of close cousins in town visiting with Arwel. New game just dropped, and he got his hands on it. But, I’m sure they’ll be up for a break to have a multi-persons collision, right in front of the station house, between Watzeens who are in town and don’t know the area, and a drone. They’re all about the misbehaving.” 

 

“This is it,” Wayra spoke with a breath of hope. 

 

Though his expression fell to concern, as his brows furrowed and his lips moved with unease. He shook his head and let his thoughts be known. 

 

“This is it, but there’s something not right. Something is wrong. But I can’t see it wholly. We need to prepare, but I want us all to be exceedingly cautious. Akiva: you and Arwel need to consider disguises. Please. Because again, there’s something off here and I can’t see it. For the rest of us: we close the pub early. Ta’ Chima: Naira will be in your care. It will be Ash, Porter, Miles, and myself. Dark clothing. Gloves. Hoods or hats. And weapon up if not too large; that leaves you out Miles. We take a replacement box, to defer any sincere follow-ups if something goes awry. We keep our identification on us, in case we get stopped on our way there. But wear them on some of those neck lanyards so wallets and other identification doesn’t get lost. We all take different routes to meetup points. I’ll get our walkout path planned, too. Two blocks from the station house, I want everyone to find a dark corner and put the imaged full facemasks on. I haven’t shown you those yet, Miles, but they’re facemasks that have a printed image of a nonexistent person on them. They work well enough in low light to render the person under them anonymous. Again, want us to be as incognito as possible, as something is off. Now, if nobody has anything to add, and everyone’s on register and ready: let’s go.” 

Chapter 45

Book 1 — Chapter 45 - Part II

​​

Day: Hynyia

Date: 32

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Melchior

​

​​

“Oh, Deo!” Akiva howled loudly in feigned pain. “Is this my blood I’m tasting or someone else’s? Ooohhh! I don’t know which is worse!” 

 

Miles tried to suppress the laugh as best he could, but the chortle came forward in a snort that forced his hand to move to his mouth by reflex in an attempt to remain quiet.

 

Though he felt a little better about his response, as Porter, who was crouched down next to him, also tried to suppress the laugh Akiva had induced — failing, as he had. 

 

As both laughs were calmed by sheer will, he heard Porter sigh and whisper. 

 

“Ash is right. Akiva plays way too much. Though she, and her kin, are sure making enough of a scene, we could have laughed our asses off full out, and those HEAGENs wouldn’t have heard a peep from us.”  

 

“Indeed,” he agreed with a little choke of his voice, as his nerves were soaring.

 

It was something Porter obviously noticed, as he patted him on the back, offering support as he spoke. 

 

“Your first sortie. It’s nerve-wracking. Never gets less so as each is different. But you get different with each one. Better with each one. This will be the first of many successes. Believe in yourself. Believe in us. Or whatever shit you need to hear right now, I don’t know. I’m not good at this and am just repeating any cliché crap that comes to mind.” 

 

He again laughed, as Porter’s comments brought it forward. Though he let the laugh out with less suppression. While they couldn’t see Akiva and her kin from their vantage of the building adjacent from the station house, they could certainly hear them as if they were standing right next to them. Which was beneficial for him, as the laugh had relaxed his rising anxiety. 

 

Though from an operational standpoint, they were also doing their jobs well. Upon observation, they had learned the station house was being minded by five HEAGENs. Four of which were now arguing outside with Akiva, Arwel, and their five kin. Playing off the drone had struck them as they were flying through  — causing three of them to crash along with the drone — and the group being very aggressive with the HEAGENs about the bodily injury they had caused with their drone. Further, stepping up to a Watzeen, even if you were engineered as HEAGEN were, wasn’t something one was eager to do. Especially if you’re outnumbered. 

 

“Yeah! What she said! Wait, what did you say?” Arwel yelled out in the most awkward of tones that translated as less angry, and more amused. 

 

“Oh, Arwel,” Porter groaned with a chuckle. “He’s too innocent for a ruse. Fantastic fighter. But not great at being anyone but himself.” 

 

It was a chuckle he shared. And a sentiment he agreed with. But his mind was becoming impatient, as the fight — and its needed diversion — seemed to become less rowdy. A problem as the electricity had not gone out yet and they would need the noise to distract from their entrance. He leaned forward and looked towards the buildings to the left of the station house as only a few meters down, hidden in an alley, was the meter junction box. And Wayra and Ash, he hoped, had succeeded in their part of the mission.

 

“Don’t jump-scare, it’s me,” Ash’s voice came from behind in a whisper.

 

A request that neither he, nor Porter, could oblige as they both jumped with a grunt from Ash’s appearance behind them. 

 

They both turned and looked at Ash as she bent at the waist, bringing her head down to their crouched positions as Porter spoke in a grumble. 

 

“Damn, Ash. Scared the shit out of us both. Is everything okay?” 

 

“Wayra graced something, and he couldn’t see it wholly. It made him hesitant as he swears something is wrong. We’re slightly off pace. He sent me over to say it will be any second now and …” 

 

Suddenly all their attention were turned, as the lights of the station house went dark; the power had been successfully cut. 

 

They didn’t waste a moment, as Porter urged them.

 

“Follow me.”

 

As he and Ash followed Porter across the alley, he could hear the argument between Akiva, her kin, and the HEAGENs ramping up again; one of them yelled, “You finish with us first, then go deal with that!” 

 

It was a sound that gave him slight relief, as they were making sure they didn’t abandon the role they were playing prematurely. But any relief he was experiencing extinguished quickly with the sight of the gated STV lot. 

 

A lot that looked like any other. Small in size, with four STVs parked in it, with only perhaps enough room for a couple more STVs and DTVs. But the gate itself was one that brought him anxiety, as the fencing wasn’t just around the lot. It also covered over the whole of the lot — like a caged roof. Meaning a quick escape over the fence wasn’t possible. It was a fact that brought a sweat to him, as his breathing increased with the potential of being trapped. 

 

As they made it to the gate lock, it was something Ash noticed as she asked in a quiet tone. 

 

“You’re breathing loud and fast. You okay?” 

 

He tried to remain calm as he released a vocal breath and excused his breathing. 

 

“This facemask is hard to breathe in. Almost impossible to see in.” 

 

“That’s fair,” Ash responded, but she hardened her voice as she advised. “Get pissed at the anxiety. Use that anger to fuel your adrenaline and focus.” 

 

He pulled the facemask up and over his nose as he took a deep breath, exerting control over his breathing’s volume and rate. 

 

He looked at the gate — a single slide one — and upon seeing it, a thought came to his mind. He turned and looked around the best he could in muted light that was provided by the surrounding city that still had electricity. It was with his quick observation that he noted at the foot of the fence, lining its perimeter, a dry creek bed filled with drainage rocks. It was perfect for what he needed. 

 

Suddenly, his attention was turned as he heard a loud buzzing and a crack that seemed to echo through the lot.

 

He looked where Ash and Porter stood at the lock of the gate, as they both seemed to freeze in place — apparently doing as he was — listening to see if anyone heard the gate unlock. 

 

“We’re not leaving until you fix what you fucked up!” one of Akiva’s kin screamed at the top of his lungs — he actually sounded frightening in his assertiveness. 

 

Yet, no other sounds apart from the continued argument came forward. Which, to them, meant they were clear to proceed. 

 

As Porter and Ash began to slowly slide the gate open, taking their time in an attempt to mitigate any sounds, he dropped to his knees and moved the pebbles around, looking for the sizes he needed.

 

“Miles!” Ash called out in a subdued voice, urging him to follow after he found exactly what he was looking for. 

 

As he pulled himself to a stand, he noticed Ash and Porter were already moving through the lot, towards the door of the station house.

 

He rushed over to the gate, dropped to a crouch and used the rocks he found to wedge them between the gate rollers and the track. A brace he didn’t have time to test, as he jumped up quickly and ran to catch up with Ash and Porter. 

 

As he met them at the door, Porter let out a vocal breath and spoke with unease. 

 

“This won’t be as loud out here, but my concern is it will be loud in and down the hall. Alerting any of those HEAGENs in there. We crack the door and listen before we go in.” 

 

He nodded as Porter used the device, which buzzed and let out another crack; though as promised, not as loud as the previous one. 

 

“Against the wall,” Porter advised, as he put the device into his zippered pocket and pulled the door open a crack. 

 

It was advice he and Ash followed as they pressed their back to the wall and listened. It was then he noticed the argument in the front of the station house was again beginning to fade, as it seemed Akiva and the others could only sustain the back and forth for so long. Though his ears also picked up on shoes on the ground, approaching them in a run, as his eyes searched out, and he found the sources of their sound — Wayra coming to meet them. 

 

But his attention did not rest on Wayra, as Porter spoke in a whisper. 

 

“We’re all clear. Let’s go.” 

 

As they entered the building — and the promised hall that would meet them — Porter and Wayra both ignited low-lumen headlamps that cast enough light to see the surroundings, but nothing that would be conspicuous against the pitch dark the building was now washed in. 

 

His mind told him to look around and observe as much as possible. Though there was little to observe. Large floor-to-ceiling wood lockers with cavity bench seats lining the walls. Another cavity with helmets. Card keys holder for the STVs and the cards. A few incidentals and the obligatory ‘you are here’ fire escape safety information, giving the layout of the entire building.

 

He returned his focus forward as they moved in a line down the hall till they came to a door. Without a sound, Porter moved to the door’s handle, tested it, and found it unlocked; they had hoped all the locks would go down with the security system being offline. 

 

As Porter opened the door, they all quickly filed in and brought the door to a soft close. 

 

He watched as Wayra and Porter both turned their lights up and illuminated the windowless room. It was a moment that made him and Ash both gasp. Though Ash spoke both their minds as she whispered out in shock. 

 

“This isn’t an evidence room. It’s a pilferage pile.” 

 

It was an astute — and depressing — observation. The room contained evidence lockers that went unutilized, as they remained opened and empty. Instead, the room was filled with tables covered with what he could only describe as useful junk. Useful, in that the individual items might have retained some resale value. 

 

But what was more perturbing was the sheer amount of it. It really looked as if HEAGEN had pillaged the local area, taking whatever of value they could find and collecting it here in a haphazard way that, in some cases, probably ruined anything of value they might have stolen. 

 

His thoughts immediately began to sink; with all the stuff in the room, he wondered if they would have enough time to find the box in question.  

 

It was a question that everyone seemed to consider, as Wayra ordered in a subdued tone. 

 

“Miles, listen at the door to see if anyone is coming. Snap your fingers three times if you hear anyone. The rest of us, we’ve got a lot to look through. Start looking now. Tap piles to look for anything hard, and focus on shapes in the piles.” 

 

He did as he was asked and hastened to the door, pulling it open quietly just a crack. 

 

But not a moment later, as he was about to release a breath of worry, he saw a low light illuminate the hall, as if a light had reflected upon something and shown down. Not that it mattered from where it had reflected; it was an indication that someone was approaching. 

 

Before he could snap his fingers, Wayra, who apparently had a sight with his graces, spoke in a hurried hush. 

 

“Hide amongst the stuff. Now.” 

 

He looked around and didn’t see a crevice amongst the piles of thievery that wasn’t being claimed by either Wayra, Ash, or Porter. He considered just standing behind the door, but knew if they swung the door open wide enough, it would open into him, and they would discover his presence. 

 

His mind told him to peek out the door and see where the light was. It was still reflecting; and the voices, which were now beginning to echo through the halls, sounded far enough away to proceed with his backup idea. 

 

“Trust me, Wayra,” he thought to himself, in what his internal monologue thought was a loud voice, trying to communicate with Wayra’s graces. He slipped out the door, brought it to a close quietly, and moved back down the hall to the lockers. As he came to the closest one, he opened it, found it thankfully empty, and backed into it, pulling the door behind him but leaving it ajar. 

 

It was only a moment later, as he settled into his hiding place, that he observed the bright light illuminate the hall from the crack that he allowed the wooden door to remain at. 

 

“They’re coming,” he again thought to himself, hoping Wayra would grace his thoughts. 

 

But his thoughts did not remain on what he hoped Wayra would grace; he turned his attention to the two male HEAGENs’ voices as they conversed. 

 

“Well, the power isn’t out on the whole street. It’s just us. It’s a break somewhere in one of the rooms,” the first HEAGEN reported in a frustrated tone. 

 

“Or!” the second HEAGEN raised his voice in emphasis. “One of those stupid fucking enaid got in via our appropriations. I told that newbie from the earlier shift to be careful what he grabbed off people. Some of it might be charmed and the enaid might get out and fuck shit up.”

 

He held his breath as heard the door to the evidence room swing open with a force, hitting the inner wall with a thud. It was a moment that made his eyes move up towards the heavens in thanks that he followed his instincts and chose to not hide behind the door. 

 

“I don’t see any enaid,” the first HEAGEN pointed out upon their examination of the evidence room. 

 

“Well, they’re not going to be in there, dumbass!” the second HEAGEN refuted with a shout. “They’re already out and floating around. They’re what caused the power to go out.” 

 

“Whatever,” the first HEAGEN sarcastically commented, as he slammed the door to the evidence room closed. 

 

“What is your fucking problem?” the second HEAGEN yelled as they started to move down the hall toward his position. 

 

“I’m hangry. I was just about to make myself something to eat when this stupid shit happened,” the first HEAGEN commented with a vocal pout. 

 

Suddenly, another voice rang out down the hall; a female HEAGEN spoke with an elevated voice. 

 

“Anything look amiss down there?”

 

“Nothing,” the second HEAGEN responded. “Just start the generator already.” 

 

“I ain’t starting shit until we figure out if there’s something wrong in here,” the female HEAGEN argued. “Cause if there is something wrong here, I’m not getting in trouble for it burning down because you’re impatient.” 

 

“I’m not impatient. Dipshit here is being a baby because he’s hungry,” the second HEAGEN pointed out as his voice was beginning to fall away as they were obviously walking up the hall towards the other HEAGENs. 

 

“Just get something cold from the refrigerator if there’s anything. Or open that mealbox thing we got earlier,” the female HEAGEN advised as the lights all dimmed, returning to reflections off in the distance. 

 

He felt his eyes widen, as both the luck and the luckless struck him at once. It was now known where the box was. And it was in the kitchen of the station house. It was a moment that forced his eyes to rise again to the heavens, as he let out a breath and thought, “Not funny, Universe.” 

 

But he didn’t linger in his thoughts and jumped out of the locker; using the little light reflecting down the hall to look at the fire escape map to locate the room labeled kitchen. 

 

As he turned, he noticed the evidence room door begin to open as he rushed to it and whispered in a hurried tone. 

 

“Give me the replacement box and one of the headlamps. Wait at the lot door entrance, in or out, whichever is safest. I’ll be right back.” 

 

His eyes quickly adjusted to the light; Ash, who was at the door first, looked behind it, apparently at Wayra, and she asked in a whisper. 

 

“Where are you going?” 

 

As she handed him the box and headlamp, he offered with determination in his voice as he placed the headlamp on. 

 

“That kitchen is down the hall, and around to the next hall. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

 

He didn’t wait for a response as he took the replacement box and rushed down the hall towards the end. As he came to it, he examined the wall before him and looked for anything that might have indicated lights were being used in the vicinity. Aside from his headlamp, with its very dim lumens, nothing could be seen.

 

As he entered what seemed to be a main hall, given it was larger, he moved across as light as his feet would take him as he met the corner of the opposite, staggered hall. 

 

Upon coming to its corner, he noticed a low-level red light emitting; he realized that some of the main rooms most likely had battery-powered backup lights for emergencies such as this. Red in color to accommodate the eyes from the darkness in the back halls and rooms. 

 

With the red light on, he turned off his headlamp and crept down the short span of hall till he came to the kitchen. Pausing briefly, he listened for anything that would suggest someone was in it, and upon determining it was empty, he peeked his head around and reaffirmed his auditory observation. 

 

He moved into the kitchen and felt a little relief as, being lit in red, it made everything relatively easy to see. So much so, his eyes — after a quick scan of the room — fell upon the box almost immediately, as it sat on the counter near the sink. 

 

As he rushed over to it, he took little care in picking it up and replacing it with the replacement, not noting its position or its exact placement. He just wanted to get the box and leave. 

 

But his departure was cut short, as he heard the voices of two male HEAGENs as they approached — one of whom sounded like the HEAGEN from earlier in the hall. He looked around quickly, searching for any place to hide, as the only place that could accommodate him was the deep shadow that the larger refrigerator was casting near the corner. He hastened to it and pushed himself in as deeply as he could, pulling his dark knitted hat down over his face to ensure no color variation would be noticed as he tried to let his darkly clothed figure melt into the shadows. 

 

“We just brandished a percussion gun and they scattered,” the gruff voice of a male HEAGEN said as they entered the room. 

 

“That’ll do it,” the HEAGEN from earlier agreed with a chuckle. “So, are you drunk again?”

 

“High as an airship,” the gruff-voiced HEAGEN confirmed in a sing-song manner as he moved to the counter and leaned against it with a laugh of his own. “I got some left. Wanna take a dive?” 

 

“After. I’ve gotta eat,” the HEAGEN noted as he moved towards the fridge and opened. 

 

He held his breath as the HEAGEN was only a meter from him and he was certain, in the shadows or not, he would hear him breathing as only a light buzzing from the battery backup lights was sounding amongst the quiet. 

 

“Well fuck,” the HEAGEN groaned. “There ain’t shit in there. Just a bunch of condiments. Where’s that mealbox?” 

 

As the HEAGEN slammed the door, he let out a tiny controlled breath, attempting to keep himself hidden, using the sound of rattling bottles coming to a rest as a sound shield of his presence. 

 

“Why would you have a key lock on a mealbox?” the HEAGEN asked as he approached the gruff-voiced HEAGEN, shaking it and commenting as he continued. “There’s something in it. Help me get it open.” 

 

“Why should I?” the gruff-voiced HEAGEN asked with annoyance. 

 

“Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the commander you’re fucking around on her,” the HEAGEN threated, his voice matching the irritation. 

 

“Fine,” the gruff-voiced HEAGEN submitted. “Let’s get the lockpick at the desk.” 

 

As the HEAGENs left the room, he released another controlled breath and brought a deep one into him, as he was determined to get out of there now. 

 

He pulled his hat up from his face, and felt the cool air strike his exposed skin from the sweat that had been accumulating from anxiety, the facemask, and the warmth of the knitted hat. Then, with only a moment to listen to determine if anyone was near, he fled from the room, abandoning his headlamp as he used his gloved hands and what little residual light was available to return him to the hallway of exit. 

 

Upon coming to the hallway, he noticed a dim light at the end and moved swiftly towards it. In seconds he reached the light of Wayra, Ash, and Porter. He spoke in an urgent pitch. 

 

“I’ve got it. Put it in and let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” 

 

He stepped back as Porter grabbed the box and placed it in the pack that Wayra was carrying on his back, securing it with a snap.

 

Porter opened the door, letting Wayra step out first with a quick look to make certain the area was cleared, and fell in behind. 

 

However, just as Ash was about to exit, the lights burst on — causing him to wince, as he wasn’t prepared for his pupils to contract so quickly with the entering light. It was a wince that was followed by another wince, as the alarm erupted — likely from the door being opened, as the security measures were now in place. 

 

He opened his eyes with a couple of blinks, trying to allow them to adjust. He focused on Ash, who still had her facemask on and was looking at what was down the hall, past him, and heard a yell from that direction. 

 

“HEY! STOP!” one of the HEAGENs called out. 

 

He moved to run, but was stopped by Ash, who reached to the wall and grabbed the helmets, handing two to him, two cards for the STVs, and something he didn’t notice that was hanging from a hook.

 

In what seemed like a whirl, she grabbed his arm and pulled him from the hall, out into the lot and slammed the door closed. She pushed him and herself against the door for a moment, using their weight as a barrier as she yelled. 

 

“We can’t outrun them, even if we scatter.” 

 

It was a moment that was illustrated, as the door they were pressed against knocked them forward, almost taking them both off balance. The HEAGEN slammed themselves multiple times into the door, each time forcing their shoes to slide further forward; they were coming closer to ramming the door open. It was a strength that struck fear in him; while he knew HEAGEN were engineered, it hadn’t been so well demonstrated as it was now. A single HEAGEN was moving both him, Ash, and a shut door. 

 

He realized Ash was right. Even if they scattered, they couldn’t outrun them. 

 

“Here!” Ash yelled as she tossed two of the helmets and a card to Porter. 

 

Ash quickly bent at the waist and took something he couldn’t see. She stood and moved away from the door, turning as she grabbed one of the helmets and the STV card. 

 

“Get the helmet on and get ready to jump,” Ash ordered as she rushed away toward the line of STVs. 

 

It was a departure that made him sharply inhale, as he knew he couldn’t hold the door himself. Yet, as he felt himself jerk forward again, the HEAGEN didn’t break through as he was expecting.

 

His eyes shot down to the space Ash had just occupied and he saw the metal door wedge that was now doing the work for her.  

 

But his attention didn’t linger, as Porter and Wayra pulled out and to the gate — the gate that he realized was trying to shut but was whirring and snapping with each attempt to lift the rollers up and over the rocks he wedged under them. It brought him a flash of relief that his plan for the gate had worked.  

 

However, as quickly as the relief came, it diffused as the voices of the other HEAGENs, coming around the corner of the building and towards them in a full run, forced him to inhale sharply again with tremor. 

 

“Get on!” Ash called out as she pulled up directly next to him.

 

He put the helmet on and, with what felt like a leap, seated on to the back of the STV.

 

His body pulled back, providing the sensation he was about to fall off the STV, as Ash didn’t waste a second and blasted forward toward the gate. But as he quickly engaged his core to steady himself, he leaned forward and put his arms around Ash’s waist as they turned, following Porter and Wayra as they sped up the alley. 

 

They were only a handful of meters away when he turned and looked back to see if the HEAGENs were going to give chase. And to his dismay, he could see them mounting their STVs as he returned his eyes forward and warned Ash with a call over the wind passing by them. 

 

“They’re following.” 

 

With those words, he felt another lurch forward and Ash increased the speed, getting closer to Porter and Wayra, who were slightly ahead. 

 

As they came to the end of the alley, he felt himself flinch, as neither Porter nor Ash slowed and shot into the street, turning with such force, it made every muscle in his body tense and hold as they both nearly hit several other vehicles. 

 

But just as quickly as they moved onto the street, they both accelerated forward to put as much distance between them and the pursuing HEAGENs as possible. Weaving in and out of traffic, trying to get lost within the surrounding vehicles. 

 

It was an attempt that wasn’t gaining them success, as with each turn to spot the HEAGENs, he could see they were in full pursuit, with only 30 meters separating them — and they were quickly closing in. 

 

“They’re still behind us, and coming up quick,” he informed Ash. 

 

It was said information that pushed Ash forward, as she pulled up next to Porter and hand gestured to him as they sped on, weaving together and making steep turns in tandem.

 

As they came to a straightaway, he watched as Porter communicated back with hand gestures, imparting a conversation that he didn’t understand. Yet, whatever was being communicated, it led Wayra to lift the visor to his helmet and yell over the noise with a resounding “No!”

 

It was a “no” that was not an acceptable answer; Porter sped up even faster, moving in front of Ash. As they glided together to one side of the road, he suddenly felt the STV decelerate, prompting Ash to yell back to him.

 

“I have an idea. Hold on.” 

 

He held a little tighter as Ash swung the STV to and fro, as if she was having a hard time controlling it. As she righted it, she decelerated and accelerated in short bursts, causing it to totter forward and back, seemingly implying the vehicle was having mechanical issues. It was a movement that was confusing him as he turned again to see the HEAGENs were now only a handful of meters away. 

 

She swayed across the multiple lanes of traffic and yelled back with a question. 

 

“Did they both follow?” 

 

He turned and felt his stomach clench, as both of the STVs — each with two HEAGENs on — were close enough that they were almost touching bumpers. 

 

“Shit! They’re right on us,” he yelled. “If they sandwich us in, we’re screwed.” 

 

It was information that pushed Ash and the STV forward again with speed. Yet, as they had made space between them, Ash again jerked the throttle forward and back, causing it to rock, this time more pronounced.

 

As they slowed, he felt his trepidation rise in him; he wasn’t sure what Ash’s plan was with the erratic speed and operation. His panic nearly burst; upon the slowing, one of the HEAGEN STVs pulled up directly beside them, giving one of the HEAGENs the opportunity to reach out and grab at him. 

 

However, the snatch failed, as Ash again sped up, came to a corner, and turned hard. 

 

“Did they both follow?” she asked as their speed began to gradually increase. 

 

He turned to see both HEAGEN STVs behind them, starting to fall back, as he responded. 

 

“They did. What now?”

 

“We’re going into the hills. Into the residential area. I know this part of the city. If I can’t shake them on the immediate divide, I have a backup plan,” Ash explained with a shout over the wind whooshing past them. “Hold on tight.” 

 

He squeezed to her tighter as she leaned forward, bringing him with her, as they accelerated to higher speeds into the residential divide. A section of the city that started at the base of one of the mountains and began to work its way up. Densely packed with family dwellings and the occasional shop or bit of nature that thinned out the further one ascended. Along with the speeds, came the anomalous path that led them over fields, through lots, and up hills where there were no official roads. 

 

It was a route that was throwing the HEAGENs back, but not off, as they were still in distant pursuit. A fact that Ash noted, as they turned down an alley, brought the STV to a stop, and idled down. 

 

She pulled off her helmet and removed her hat and facemask as she spoke in a hurried voice. 

 

“At least we baited them away from Wayra and Porter. But we’re not going to lose them. As soon as they round that corner, they’ll see us down here. Give me your identification and facemask. Hurry.” 

 

Pulling his helmet off, he removed his articles as Ash took them from him without a word and stuffed them into her facemask, creating an impromptu bag. As he reached for his identification, Ash pulled hers out and placed it into the facemask as she then returned her helmet to her head. 

 

“Miles,” she said in a tone of soft urging. 

 

It was a voice that drove him to stop fumbling with the lanyard, as he pulled it off his neck with a huff of frustration and handed it to her — cursing himself for letting his nerves affect his actions. 

 

As he returned the helmet to his head, he watched as Ash pushed all the items down into the facemask and elongated the stretchy fabric, forcing it to make a handle that she quickly tied into a knot. 

 

No sooner was she done when they both could hear the approaching STVs — which, as Ash predicted, came around the corner, making their headlamps fall directly on them. 

 

Ash didn’t wait; she pulled the STV out of its sitting position and dashed down the alley, with the HEAGENs in chase. 

 

His mind returned to alarm, but shared the space with curiosity; while Ash had claimed they couldn’t lose the HEAGENs, he wasn’t sure what the plan of action was. Especially now that she had taken both their identifications and placed them in the tied facemask. 

 

He turned briefly to see that the HEAGENs were as close as they had been in some time. But as Ash leaned forward, he returned his attention to her and tried to replicate her body movements — making each turn, each curve, and each acceleration as easy as possible as they made their escape. 

 

Though as they continued to climb further into the hills, and the houses became further apart, he realized they were getting closer to the low slopes of the mountain, and closer to the lightning farms — where he was now sure they were headed. 

 

As they came to a stretch, he noted that the forthcoming road before them curved toward the south, and from what he could see, into a construction area. 

 

It was at that moment, as they curved into the construction area, that he realized Ash had used her father’s words. The construction that was taking place in part of the lightning farm. With materials and machinery scattered about, he wondered if Ash’s plan was to lose them among the development as she went off-road and wound in and out of mounds of equipment.

 

But as they approached a fenced area, Ash slowed up her forward progress as she sat up straight and brought the bag in hand at the knot. Then, as they passed the area, she threw the bag, with a side toss and high arch, into the fenced area. 

 

“Did they notice?” she asked as she increased the speed. 

 

He turned and looked at the pursuing HEAGENs as they rounded a group of machinery, realizing they weren’t within the vantage of her throw. 

 

“I don’t think so,” he responded. 

 

But as he glanced back to double check, he watched as both STVs pulled off and away, disappearing behind a row of materials. 

 

“They’re gone. They just pulled off to the right. Do you think they gave up?” 

 

“Shit!” Ash yelled with alarm in her voice. “They’re not giving up. They’re trying to beat us there by going up.”

 

He again leaned forward with Ash as she accelerated and carefully navigated the construction zone, swerving back and forth, avoiding the obstacles before them. 

 

Yet, as they rounded the last obstruction and returned to the designated road, he felt a shock strike him as they came out right next to the HEAGENs. It was then he realized what Ash was referencing; the HEAGENs had pulled out of the construction area and were able to make up time by going up the hill slightly and straight. Time they lost maneuvering at slower speeds. Additionally, the HEAGENs’ approach gave them a view that allowed them to keep a lookout if they retreated back. 

 

It was a moment that only intensified, as he noticed one of the HEAGEN pulled a percussion gun and pointed it at them. 

 

“Percussion gun!” he yelled. 

 

This prompted Ash to decelerate quickly; the HEAGEN, not ready for her action, continued at their speed, causing them to miss them and shoot the ground in front of them. Lifting rock and soil that sprayed them in tiny strikes that pelted them both. 

 

With their miss, they tried to realign by slowing their motion, which gave Ash the advantage to speed up again and pass them with space; she accelerated to speeds he never would have dared. 

 

As they rounded a large turn, he finally realized Ash’s destination as before them was the Loeesuvu Gap. A narrow rocky canyon pass that would open up onto the high mountain plateau on the south side of the mountains and into the country of Saettee. 

 

And, perhaps more importantly, a country that didn’t allow HEAGEN to cross due to their strong anti-Hylatee stance. If they made it through the gap, they would have finally made their escape from HEAGEN.  

 

He kept his head down and looked under his arm to see how close the HEAGENs were. Finding, to his dismay, they were again closing in fast. His eyes returned forward; the gap was right within reach as they barrelled into the pass, causing the air to rush against them, as it forced their progress to slow. 

 

It was a slowing that Ash seemed to heed, as she began to straighten back up and pull off the throttle; they quickly rushed past the official border between Minu and Saettee, and were finally safe. 

 

But just as the thought came to him, so did the realization that the echo in the canyon was still resonating as loud as when they had first entered.

 

He quickly turned and felt his heart drop; one of the HEAGEN had pulled back, but the second was still in pursuit and had made up the distance between them from their slowing. 

 

“One’s still following!” he yelled to Ash, who he could feel tense up under his hold. 

 

The moment began to slow in his mind as they exited the canyon onto the plateau. It was another opportunity to speed ahead, as the space was wide and open before them. But as he turned again to see where the HEAGENs were in relation, he could have sworn his heart stopped, as they were close, with the percussion gun aimed at them. He squeezed hard to Ash as he turned and felt the percussion hit. Though, as the events slowed down even further in his mind, he felt a strange sensation, as the percussion didn’t hit him directly, but the lower back of the STV. This impact sent the STV’s back off the ground directly — causing it to go vertical, and in the process, throwing Ash and himself into a top-side crash. 

 

He could see the world tumble around as Ash was still pressed against him, tumbling with. But, in what was his last moment of will, he pushed Ash away from his body, towards the greenery of the grass, in hopes he wouldn’t land on her. 

 

It was at that moment that time returned to normal, as he struck the ground and an intense pain instantly followed as he rolled with force across the rocky ground, calling out all along the way.

 

His roll was only stopped when he struck a larger rock, which seemed to send his body airborne again, only to be slammed on his back to the ground.

 

A cry of agony released from his lips as he was certain multiple parts of his body were broken from the crash. As he brought in the breath to calm his pain, his mind returned to Ash; from his lying position, he could not see where she was. He prepared to call out for her when his voice caught as, within his line of sight, a HEAGEN appeared. Armed and ready to finish the pursuits objective. 

 

But before the HEAGEN could assault him further; from out of the corner of his eye, several people came into his view and engaged the HEAGEN in an offensive attack. He watched as one man was particularly capable as he outmaneuvered and defeated the HEAGEN handily in several swift actions. 

 

As the man disengaged from the HEAGEN, he stepped back and away, breathing heavily, and called out to others in a commanding voice. 

 

“This one is neutralized. We need collection and clean over here, too.”  

 

The man turned his attention to him and moved to him with haste as he kneeled down next to him and lifted the visor. He offered a light smile as he placed his hand on his chest and spoke in an assuring tone. 

 

“You’re safe and are going to be helped now.” 

 

He brought in a deep breath that caused him to wince, as he pushed the labored voice out and asked the only question on his mind. 

 

“Ash?”

 

“She’s being attended to,” he responded as he turned his head and looked over to where he assumed Ash was and reported. “She’s talking. You’re both going to be okay.”

 

The man stood and released another commanding voice as he instructed. 

 

“We need medical over here. Now.” 

 

It was the last voice that registered with him as his consciousness was being enveloped by the pain, bringing his eyes to close, and causing his mind to fade to dark.

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