Dusk (46 page)

Having studied their own combat art, the men
and women Paeryl referred to as his van were remarkably limber and
agile. There was a young student called Six because of a scar on
his chest that resembled the Roman numerals. Six was extremely
gifted with agility, and he learned techniques faster that anyone
Tanner had ever seen. It helped that the Apostates had a fighting
art of their own. It was young compared to the time-honored arts of
Earth, but their art was practical, and years of necessity had
honed it to precision; what it lacked in diversity, it made up for
with its freshness.

Maybe it was their seemingly inexhaustible
energy, or the daily threat posed by the masters of Eurydice and
Druvidia, but the Apostates absorbed Tanner’s teachings like
cheesecloth.

Each session began with calisthenics and then
moved to techniques, but the second half had always included the
Apostates sharing their art, what Paeryl referred to as Crossing
the Kheires and the others called The Hundred Hands. At first, the
Apostates had only shared the concepts behind their moves, but
after they had become more comfortable with each other’s styles,
they had begun to spend the latter half of the class sparring. It
had been a chore at first. The Hundred Hands style had been given
an accurate nomination. Each move chained to the next. The
Apostates didn’t seem to need to breath between moves, and
eventually Tanner and the others found they didn’t need to either.
The Apostates would spin their smaller lighter bodies over and
under attacks, moving their momentum into punch after kick in a
stream that didn’t seemed to end until someone grabbed or kicked
them. And Six, he was the fastest of the Apostates—and strongest
too. He could easily take on any five Apostates, or any three
scientists excluding Tanner or Uzziah—Tanner made up for what he
lacked in comparable speed with wisdom, and Uzziah made up for both
with sheer force and tolerance of pain. Yet on any given day, both
Tanner and Uzziah would opt for some solution other than a real
fight with Six if it meant someone would not walk away—because they
could not guarantee it would not be them on the gurney.

Perhaps it was the difference in gravity on
the Paracelsus, or the seemingly never-ending supply of energy
afforded them by the Eos, but practice seemed to last longer than
it ever could have on the ship, and it seemed to be more intense.
The Apostates had an advantage initially due to their familiarity
with their photosynthesizing metabolisms, but it wasn’t long before
Cyrus and his ‘van’ found that the advantages the Apostates had in
speed and endurance could be balanced by the scientists’ sheer
temerity and strength.

They took time to fill their wineskins in the
aqueduct, and then paired up for sparring. Six walked over to Cyrus
and spoke, “Sifu Tanner holds the ensign jack, but
you
seem
to be the vanguard.” He puffed out his chest, causing the V and I
etched in the flesh over his heart to expand slightly.

“I’m a student of the art, just like everyone
else,” Cyrus said, looking around.

Six smiled as if he found Cyrus’s answer
amusing. “Are you aware I hold the Amphiphoreus?”

“Don’t even know what that is,” Cyrus was
growing tired of humoring him, and it was obvious Cyrus was fishing
for something else to give his attention. He could not find Loli of
Nine, Paeryl’s daughter, who could easily hold her own in a fight,
but Paeryl had asked Cyrus to watch over her anyway. And if this
was Paeryl’s best man, he had a pretty good idea why she needed to
be watched.

“It is the award given to the Hundred Hands
sparring champion. Every gyre there is a tourney. I have held the
Amphiphoreus for forty gyres,” Six added, his chest still inflated
as he smiled. With that grin, Cyrus recognized him as the man who
had ogled him when they had fled Eurydice. Then, behind the smiling
Six, he saw Jang, cupping Loli’s hand in his own, demonstrating the
correct way to form a tiger’s claw by slowly, gently moving each
individual finger into place. She smiled as she began to understand
the technique. She was more focused on her hand than Jang, but Jang
seemed to be more focused on her eyes and pursed lips.

“Excuse me,” Cyrus said to Six without
looking away from the scene across the pitch. Six nodded, a little
dejected, and moved toward Tanner.

Jang traced the tip of his finger down Loli’s
forearm, demonstrating the proper way to hold her wrist. Even
halfway across the pitch, Cyrus could see the gooseflesh forming on
her upper arm.

“Sifu said he needs your assistance,” Cyrus
said before he had fully reached them. It wasn’t completely a lie.
Tanner
had
asked Cyrus to find someone to help him retrieve
the weapons he had requested from the forge.

Jang greeted Cyrus, hand over fist, bowed
slightly, and then left, saying goodbye to Loli after the
formalities.

When Jang was outside of earshot, Cyrus
spoke, “He’s a bit of a flirt, but he is highly respectable.”

Loli held out her tiger claw, waving her dark
hair to the side as she admired the claw next to her other hand.
“Oh,” she said through her smile. She was beautiful. The greenish
tint made the lighter complexion of her skin glow in the orange
light. The Eos must have absorbed most of the rays before they
stimulated production of melanin. That made her paler than Cyrus
was normally attracted to, but the glow made it hard to look away
from her. She looked younger than what she must have been, but
there was an odd understanding in her eyes. Then the understanding
gave way to concern as she relaxed her fingers. “Oh,” she said
again, this time more warily. “Perhaps he is not aware I am already
betrothed.”

It took Cyrus longer than it should have to
internalize what she had said. Their version of Commonspeak, as
familiar as it was, was often elusive. Then, as realization crept
in, he uttered his own, “Oh.”

• • • • •

Uzziah stood at the front of the room as
Aerik Twelve discussed the armament of the Ashan forces. He looked
older than many of the others, but did not look as old as Paeryl.
There was something weary about his stature even though it looked
like his bushy brown hair was only beginning to grey. A few of the
elder Apostates called him The Hanged Man, but most referred to him
as simply Aerik. He was currently holding two submachine pistols
high enough for everyone to see. They looked more like staple guns
from Earth, as they had finger guards beneath the barrel linking to
the bottom of the handle.

“These are your standard issue automatic hand
projectors. They fire standard hand slugs at rate of five every
second.” He set one of the auto pistols on the table while
continuing to hold the other. “They have an active recoil
compensation system that increases weight in the front of the hand
projector as the slug is ejected. Their versatility and light
weight have made them the main side weapon of the Eurydician
Municipals, who are most always armed with non-lethal
disintegrating rounds.”

He placed the two auto pistols on the table
and lifted what looked like one of the assault rifles they had used
in Eurydice. “This amazing piece of artillery is the Eurydice Acer
IV. It has active recoil compensation, fires a long bore slug at
more than twelve slugs per second, and has a capacity for 108
slugs.”

Aerik set the rifle down on the table and
Uzziah picked it up to look it over. We will familiarize you with
techniques on using each of these as this is the artillery most
available to us.

“What are those weapons behind you?” Milliken
asked, referring to the holographic images floating behind
Aerik

“Those are weapons you may encounter that it
would behoove you to identify before they are used. For example,
this little thing here.” He moved his hand and the image of a small
silver device that looked like a chicken egg moved forward from the
menagerie of weaponry behind him. “This seemingly harmless little
device can block the sun on your whole sortie. He moved his hand
again and the egg began to vibrate as a low-pitched oscillation
filled the room from hidden speakers. “The Valois Squib is a
beautiful ordinance indeed. It generates a small EM field that can
attach to even poorly conductive metals, and thanks to an
antimatter core, it can penetrate any—hearken to this—
any
surface. And because it has a small sound signature and rarely
generates secondary explosions, it is the weapon of choice of the
Echelon.”

Torvald raised his hand to get Aerik’s
attention. “The Echelon?”

“You mind if I take this one?” Uzziah
intercepted as Aerik opened his mouth. Aerik dipped his head
deeply, it was more a bow than a nod, and Uzziah continued, “The
Echelon are Ashan special forces. Similar to the team I was a
member of on Earth.” There was a silence in the air. No one gasped,
but their faces looked like they were about to. Uzziah himself
expected everyone to already know, but apparently Tanner and Cyrus
were as stalwart as he had given them credit for. Everyone had
known he was a military pilot, but none of them seemed to suspect
anything else. Uzziah continued despite the silence, “Most of Asha
considers them to be a myth, but Paeryl is pretty sure they are the
ones who captured Avalon, and the ones who attacked us at the Scar.
These weapons are weapons Aerik and Paeryl have seen them use, or
ordinance that has been found by recon Darius Prime here hacked
from the Eurydician database.”

“How is it the Ashans aren’t sure they
exist?” Toutopolus looked deeply confused.

Aerik leaned forward to answer the question,
“Because, as far as we can glean, they operate out of orbital
stations in the Miasma, and out of Druvidia or Eurydice when they
are azoic. We are certain they relocate just before each exodus,
but there must be a secret way-point in between each migration to
avoid crossing exodus traffic and facilitation crews; however,
until now, we have been unable to locate it.”

There was a buzz among those assembled as
Milliken raised his hand. “What is that gun there?” he asked,
indicating a gun that looked like a shotgun from a futuristic
holocast.

A wide smile spread across Aerik’s face.
“This amazing piece of hardware,” he gestured and the weapon moved
forward, “is the Druvidian Entropic Quantum Rifle. Referred to as
the DEQ rifle or the Spellcaster, this weapon is only rumored to
exist. The recon was gathered through the comm-sat link here in the
base, but we are not sure if it is a prototype or in limited
production.” He paused for a moment to gather his own excitement.
“When the slide here is pulled back, this weapon absorbs free
energy in the air. When the slide is pushed forward, it holds its
charge. When the trigger is pulled, it fires compressed subatomic
particles at virtually light speed. In theory, at full charge, it
packs enough punch to stop an assault lev at full speed. It can be
fired in a vacuum and it has a duty cycle of ten thousand
discharges.”

“Why is it called the Spellcaster?” Milliken
asked with sincere interest.

Aerik moved his hand and an odd mist formed
in the room. It must have been a rudimentary hologram because the
mist was highly pixilated, but it shifted and formed like real
mist. Aerik waved his hand again and the slide slid back on the
gun. There was a medium pitch whirr, and the mist swirled around
the DEQ rifle much like mist around some arcane magician’s hands.
One final gesture moved the slide forward. The whirring stopped and
then the trigger slid back. There was a muffled thump that, despite
its low volume, shook the room as the holoprojector simulated a
dent in the wall.

Aerik was still smiling as Torvald raised his
hand. “How is it you know so much about it if it’s not supposed to
exist?”

Aerik laughed, “Because it was developed to
counter our attacks. And according to the Archons, we don’t exist
either.” He smiled again and indicated the real firearms on the
table as he waved to disengage the holographic display.

“So when do I get one?” Milliken asked,
smiling to Toutopolus as he said it.

Aerik’s smile faded somewhat. “When you learn
to survive long enough against an Echelon Officer’s escort to take
it from his cold, dead hand.” The seriousness in his voice sobered
Milliken. “Not even Six has been that lucky, nor is he obtuse
enough to try.”

There was a tense quiet, and then Aerik’s
smile returned as quickly as it went. “Now, Azariah of Pentacles,”
Aerik indicated Uzziah as he referred to him by his Eos name, “and
myself will acclimatize you to the use of the weaponry we
do
have in our cache.”

• • • • •

—
Dada, I’m confused.

—
What’s wrong Dari?

—
Today in class, Terry kept taking Sergio’s
stylus, and Sergio finally got tired of him and hit him in the
mouth with his deck case.

—
Did he get hurt?

—
I think Sergio might have knocked out one of his
baby teeth, but he didn’t have to go to the med-lev or
anything.

—
What’s confusing about that? Sounds like Terry
finally got what he deserved.

—
Well Miss Hasabe flipped her queue counter and
starts yelling at Sergio in front of everybody, telling him all
this stuff about violence never solving anything. But then, later
in social studies, she goes off about how great the Unification War
was for the world, and how they should civilize the rest of the
Fringe states so we can live in peace. Thing I don’t get is, Sergio
just busted up Terry’s mouthpiece with a plastic case, but in the
Uni War, even the Uni killed people—a lot of people. Terry’s teeth
are gonna grow back, but you can’t grow back a whole dude. It makes
no sense. Why is one okay and the other not?

—
Most people neither have, nor really want, a
clear understanding of what violence really is. They treat it like
it is the root of all evil, when in reality it is neutral—a means
to an end. It’s the ends that make the difference.