Endgame (38 page)

Then there were the skimmers, the vans and trucks and arrays and holocams.

“Oh my God.” Val sat up straight, hand scrabbling along the seat to link with hers.

“Told you.” Niall eyed her in his rearview as he halted the skimmer on the rim.

Jani nodded. Her mouth had gone as dry as the land surrounding them, her muscles clenched so tight that it hurt to move.

Niall exited the skimmer, setting his lid and straightening his tunic as he walked back to Jani's door and opened it. “Need a hand, gel?” he asked, and offered her his.

Jani gave Val's hand a last squeeze and let it go even as she reached out and took Niall's and held it fast. Stepped out onto desolation that had not changed over the course of twenty years, breathed the light, dry air that smelled the same, felt the heat that drilled her to the hybrid bone.

She looked off to her right, toward the site where the hospital had stood. Every block and tile had been knocked down and carted away years before, sunken into burial sites all over Shèrá, leaving only the telltale flatness that spoke
of mechanical leveling and foundations and the incursion of civilization into a place not meant to contain it.

Jani imagined the outlines of walls, three stories high and devoid of windows, a flat roof. Remembered nightfall, that first chill in the air, and the warmth of her blood as it ran down her arm.

“Jan?” Niall leaned close. “You're wearing the bug. Anything goes wrong, just call.”

“I'm all right.” She let go of his hand, reached beneath her overrobe to the sheath on her belt. Slid out the short blade that Meva had sent her the previous day and started down the slope. Did her best to shut out the faces and the cams and the weighted silence, the faint whistle of wind and occasional cry of a bird the only discernable sounds.
How can so many bodies make so little noise?
No one spoke. Overrobes and sleeves fluttered, the only movement in the vast ring of mortality.

As she neared the bottom, she pressed the point of the blade to her right sleeve and slashed downward, the cloth renting with a sharp ripping sound, like the opening of a tent flap. She slowed, then stopped as she reached the foot of the slope. Off to the right, twenty or so meters distant, stood Meva, bracketed by Dathim and Feyó. Behind them, upon a small altar stone, rested the reliquary.

She started walking again. Four strides. A fifth. Then she stopped, raised her arm so the cloth tumbled back to the elbow, revealing her bare forearm. Drew the blade across her skin, then waved her arm in a sweeping arc, spraying her blood.

 

That first, wasted shot. The opening of the tent. Wide, staring eyes.

The second shot.

One—

Another tent. No wasted shot this time.

—two—

The next tent, and the next.

—three—four—

 

…another cut, another spray of blood. Another. Another. Too many times to track. Too many times.

 

—fifteen—sixteen—seventeen—

She tried to pray at first, impose order upon the random path she walked. Then realized that order had no place here.

 

One Thalassan day, her soul cloth vanished. She hunted for it, couldn't find it. Ran to Tsecha's house to tell him, only to find that he had taken it, or sent someone to take it. He had untied the knotting and shaken loose the braids. I have returned your soul to you, nìa, he told her.

 

And she returned theirs to them.

—twenty-four—twenty-five.

Twenty-six.

 

“That part's over.”
Niall's voice, in her ear.

“As much as it can ever be.” Jani looked toward the network skimmers. “Hope they got it all.”

“You're almost through it, gel. Just a few minutes more.”
Niall paused, cleared his throat.
“Give the old bird a nod from me when he goes.”

 

“What do we do now, Cap?”

“Place me under arrest, Sergeant Burgoyne. I've broken treaty law. You have to arrest me.”

“No, you did it to save us—”

“If you don't arrest me, they'll think you were involved. Borgie—listen to me. You didn't know what I was planning—that's what you'll tell them because it's the truth. You didn't know, and when I told you what I had done, you did your duty and placed me under arrest.”

“Captain—”

“I did what I had to. Now it's your turn.”

 

Jani stood over the last place. The last. Her right arm had
numbed. She felt stiffness where blood had dried, the sting of the breeze across open wounds. But no pain. Not yet.

She sheathed the blade. Turned to the right and walked. Her head felt afloat, her knees wobbly. There was a hollow where her heart had been.

She fixed on Meva, who stood still as statuary, arms folded and hands tucked into the sleeves of her overrobe. As she drew closer, the female stepped to one side, allowing her a clear path to the reliquary.

Jani stopped before the altar. Lifted the reliquary lid. It seemed heavier than it had in Thalassa, hard-edged and unwieldy. She brought in her elbows and braced them against her sides for support, hefting the lid like an overladen tray and setting it down on the left side of the reliquary. As her hands slid along the edge, some roughness caught her finger, the one bearing the redstone ring. She felt the sliver slide in, the sting when she pushed the lid farther up the table and applied pressure to the wound.
Making sure I stay conscious, are you?
Her lip twitched as she fought the urge to grin.
Always the considerate one.

She moved away from the lid and stood before the open reliquary. “Hello, old friend.” She reached into the box and took hold of the scroll, clutching it hard with her left hand to compensate for the weakness in her right. “The place has been cleaned for you. Their souls have been healed.” Her hands remained dry and steady, and she thanked her old teacher as she lifted the scroll and set it on the altar. “Follow them home,” she said as she opened the cover, then turned each page. Felt something brush her cheek, and knew it was the breeze, but decided that for today she would imagine it as something else.

 

I understand more than you believe, nìa.

“Yes, nìRau. I think you did.”

 

Jani braced her hands against the altar. “The stone is so nice and warm.”

Meva moved in beside her and placed her hand against the stone as well. “I find it cool.” She touched Jani's right hand, then took Jani's arm and led her up the incline. “You feel most as yourself, ná Kièrshia?”

“I feel most as someone who's going to pass out if she doesn't sit down soon.” Jani fielded Meva's look of horror. “Don't worry—I won't faint in front of the worldskein. I will maintain my presence and my godly composure.” She breathed, felt her heart skip, saw golden flecks invade her field of vision. “Stay away,” she said to John as he started to walk toward her. “Not until I get inside the skimmer.” She looked toward the crowds, who had not yet begun to disperse, and offered a slight hand wave to the nearest reporter, who waved back. Slid into the skimmer as soon as Niall flipped up the gullwing, then gripped the edge of her seat as John and Val piled in after her and the weight imbalance caused the vehicle to shudder and buck like a small boat in a storm.

“When I watched you draw that blade down your sleeve and make the first cut, I thought to myself, ‘Hot damn, she nicked her brachial artery. John and I will be running down to get her in two, three minutes.'” Val pushed up her right sleeve and swallowed hard. “I assume you're going to want these to scar?”

“You assume correctly.” Jani felt some remnant of tension leach away as Val and John eased her onto her back. John then dragged a seat cushion out of its holder and tucked it under her knees while Val attached a transfuser pack to the crook of her right arm.

Niall immediately began the tricky exercise of maneuvering the triple-length through the dispersing crowds. “‘Then will he strip his sleeves and show his scars, and say, “These wounds I had on Crispin's day.” Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, but he'll remember with advantages what feats he did that day.' Henry the Fifth again.” He paused. Started to speak, stopped, then tried again. “Is she all right?”

“She will be as soon as we get her blood volume back
up.” Val grumbled under his breath. “Did you have to bleed quite this much?”

“She did what she had to.” John pressed a scanner lead to her shirt just over her heart. “It was…the most starkly beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Scared the hell out of me.” Val adjusted the transfuser settings, then fell back onto the seat opposite. “Hundreds of thousands of idomeni, and none of them so much as whispering.”

Jani closed her eyes. Felt the vehicle hum run along her spine. Drifted in and out of sleep. Dreamed of the reliquary. Dreamed she saw Tsecha, walking across the sand toward her, overrobe billowing behind him. Dreamed she heard John's voice, Niall's response.

Felt the skimmer slow, then stop, and realized that she wasn't dreaming at all.

“I'll only be a minute.” John said as he placed his hand on her brow.

Jani opened her eyes just as he pushed up the gullwing and exited the skimmer. “Is this where I think it is?”

“Yeah.” Val sat on the edge of his seat. Then he sighed, wiped his eyes, and followed his partner outside.

“Network vans are going to be coming through any minute. I told him he needed to make it fast.” Niall sat back, pulled out his case. Soon the clove aroma drifted through the cabin. “Should've figured he'd want to see this place. It's his Knevçet Shèràa, after all.”

Jani sat up. Moved her arms, her legs.
No stars in front of my eyes.
Walking might prove another matter entirely, but she wouldn't know until she tried.

“Can't sit still, can you?” Niall shook his head. “They might want to be alone, you know? They might just need some time.”

Jani looked through the open door to the scene beyond. John pacing back and forth, Val standing off to one side, his hand over his mouth. No shrine on this site. No marker or fencing or designation of any kind.

“It was a turning point for me, too,” Jani said as she dis
embarked. “I used to wonder what this place looked like.” She walked carefully, slowing as the hollow sensation in her chest returned. “I thought about coming here once, when you and Val went to a meeting at the consulate.” She came to a halt an arm's reach from John, who had stopped pacing and now stared down at the ground. “Eamon even left the place unlocked, probably hoping that I'd bolt. But I couldn't find a skimmer.”

John didn't respond at first. Then he crouched, worked his hand into the sandy ground, gone from dune to semi-arid as they drew near Rauta Shèràa again. “Here.” He let the ground trickle through his fingers, then made a sweeping motion with one arm. “Wreckage scattered for kilometers. Remains. We'd pick up some blackened bit the size of a finger and didn't know if we were looking at tissue or a charred piece of transport until we scanned it.” He cleaned his hand on the leg of his trousers and slowly straightened. “Then we found—” He stopped. Swallowed. “We'd watched idomeni die for months. We weren't allowed to help. We weren't allowed to save…so many. I lost count. Then we found you, and decided—” He turned to look at her, eyes bright as the sun that blistered above them. “—and decided that we would save you, and that no one would stop us.” He laughed. “Law of unintended consequences. If I knew then what I knew now…” He fixed on her for a long moment. “…I'd still do it. I wouldn't change—” He turned away. “My decision, to add to all the others that we made, and lived with, and paid for.”

They stood in silence, each a prisoner of their own memories. Then Val stirred.

“We're getting the high sign.” He jerked a thumb toward the skimmer, which Niall had converted into a holiday display of blinking warning lights. “The network vans are headed this way. We better get going.”

Jani waited for John, then slipped her arm through his. They walked back to the skimmer side by side, at peace, at least for now. Got in and headed back to the city.

“…and the first two thousand houses have been completed in phase one of the new western section.” Dieter made a notation on his recording board. “That makes ten thousand in the past three months.”

Jani nodded. Outside the library window a pair of seabirds swooped at one another, their squawks audible even through the filtering glass.
Are they fighting or mating?
She watched them circle one another, the tips of their wings seeming to touch.
Is there a difference?

Then she sensed a ripple in the silence, and looked across the table to find her suborn eyeing her expectantly. “That's a lot.”

“Yes, it is.” Dieter set down the board, then tucked the stylus behind his ear. “A less preoccupied person might even be impressed.”

Jani smiled. One thing she'd missed during her time away was Dieter's gentle chiding.
And now I've had a lifetime's worth in the past few months.
“I'm sorry. It's a marvelous achievement.”

Dieter sighed, then started gathering up his files. “If you don't want the blow by blow details, just say so. I can save them for the monthly reports.”

“When did we start doing monthly reports?”

“Last month, when the first funding arrived from Chicago to help cover phase two of the western expansion along with the far southern expansion near Meteora. Prime Minister Scriabin is an old Commerce hand. He likes reports with tables and charts and whatnot.”

Jani tried to hand Dieter a file, but she had taken it out of order, and he frowned and set it aside. “Doesn't he trust us?”

“He simply wants an accounting.” Dieter piled the first armful of documents onto the trundle that followed him everywhere like a loyal, overlarge dog. “He's entitled. He's a major underwriter of what is likely the largest resettlement project ever undertaken.”

“The Commonwealth push into the colonies was bigger.”

“You're going to argue now?” Dieter returned to the desk for a second armful. “The Vynshà migration involves fewer individuals, yes, but also a much shorter time frame.” To the trundle, then back to the desk again. “And we're looking after things like infrastructure and such, which was more than Mother Commonwealth ever did for our great-great-however-many-grandfolk.” The last armful. “This exodus will be handled properly.”

By committee. With monthly reports.
Jani sighed. “The teams are in place. We have departments now, instead of someone in a corner desk with a workstation and a good memory. All humming along.”

Dieter stopped. Cocked his head. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know.” Jani walked to the window and searched for the birds, but they'd moved on to another part of the sky. “Meteora? Didn't they have a corruption problem there?”

“…Yes.” Dieter wedged the trundle between two chairs to keep it from drifting, then joined her at the window. “We haven't done much there yet. A team of engineers and architects traveled down last week to look over the proposed site for the first enclave.” He slid the window aside and stepped
out onto the balcony. “It's not as beautiful as Thalassa, in my opinion. Greyer. Greener, perhaps. Mountainous.”

“It's cold.” Jani pushed up the sleeves of her pullover and held out her arms to the summer sun. “I remember someone saying it's cold.”

“That was me, sometime last month.” Dieter stared at her scarred forearms and shook his head. “Sounded a bit like your homeworld. Acadia. Land of a Thousand Storms.”

Acadia.
She'd considered going home, for a little while. But while her parents would want to see her, she wasn't sure anyone else did.
Half Haárin. Cat eyes.
And those would be the kinder names.
Maybe later.
When she could tell Declan and Jamira Shah Kilian that she didn't care, and mean it.
Not now.

Dieter waved a hand in front of her face. “Jani, are you—”

“Why is Meteora on the list of sites?” She opened her eyes wide and tried to look attentive.

“Governor Markos thought that the presence of some businesslike, physically intimidating Haárin might push out some of the more hardcore humanish criminal element. And some Oà expressed an interest in settling down there. Makes sense. It's more their climate.”

“Oà?” Jani looked toward the once bare cliffs of Thalassa, now coated with houses like an overiced cake. “I didn't know—” She glanced at Dieter and shrugged. “Maybe I did.”

Dieter contemplated her for a time, then shook his head. “Poor Captain Kilian. You'd have gone barking mad on a peacetime base. Or driven your commander likewise.” He left her to return to his trundle. “Problems don't need to be life and death to be important. There is still much to be done here.”

Jani remained on the balcony. Heard the library door close. Dragged a chair over to the railing, sat and propped up her feet. Because she was ná Kièrshia, Dominant of Thalassa, and had nothing to do until her next meeting.

 

“Sit down, Jani.” Rudo Sikara ushered her into the office he kept in the business area of the Main House. “You are looking well.” He looked dapper in charcoal grey, a red rose pinned to his lapel. “I met with Doctor Shroud yesterday, at the Karistos office. I told him I'd be seeing you.” He sat at his polished bloodwood desk, bare but for a stylus stand and a trueleather blotter. “He sends his regards.”

Jani nodded. She hadn't seen John since their return to Elyas. He had decamped immediately to oversee the expansion of the Thalassan medical facility in Karistos. When he did return to see patients, she spent the day in Karistos. She knew the ache would subside eventually, supplanted by a loss of trust on both sides that cut to the bone. “When next you see him, likewise.”

Sikara nodded. Would have shuffled papers if there had been any on his desk to shuffle. “What did you wish to see me about?”

Jani leaned forward, elbows on desk, chin cradled in one hand. “Speaking as a longtime resident of Karistos, what can you tell me about Meteora?”

Sikara's beetle brows arched. “An unfortunate history. Rough sort of place. Smuggling, that sort of thing.” He grinned, shifted in his seat. “I began my career there.”

“Do tell.” Jani took out a paper notebook and stylus, because she knew she would probably need to take notes, and in any case thought better with paper in her hand.

 

A few days later she stood at the walkway railing outside the library and inhaled the aromas of mid-afternoon sacrament.

“Veena made tandoori chicken.” Dieter leaned beside her, his eyes on the mealtime bustle. “I would gladly crawl across the courtyard on broken glass for Veena's tandoori chicken.”

Jani nodded. “It reminds me of my mother's.”

Dieter stood quietly, fingering the cuff of his shirt. “When are you leaving for Meteora?”

Jani smiled. Did she really think her esteemed suborn wouldn't be able to figure it out? “Today.” She watched the bustle in the courtyard below. Knew she'd miss it, even as she knew she needed to go. “Not for long. A few months, maybe. Change of scenery will do me good.”

“The term is ‘adrenaline addict.'” Dieter sniffed. “Who will I show my monthly updates to?”

“You can send them to me.” Jani grabbed the railing and leaned back, enjoyed the sensation of a healed knife wound that no longer pulled or ached. “I'll initial them and send them back.”

Dieter rolled his eyes. Quieted again. Started to speak, then hesitated. “Was it that bad?”

Jani considered her answer, because Dieter deserved a careful reply. “It's better now.” The dreams had stopped, for the most part. Physically, she was as healthy as ever. Emotionally, she'd heal.

“It's different here now.” Dieter's eyes glistened, until he blinked the shine away.

“It always will be.” Jani's chest tightened, and she blamed the aftereffects of the wound that didn't bother her anymore. “And it's a good place. The best place. But Meva's propitiator now, and you're in your element with the organization. There's nothing left for me to do but sign off on others' work.”

Dieter blew out a breath. “Best let Colonel Pierce know where you're going.”

“I will.” Jani stood still for a time, and took a last, long look. Then she patted Dieter on the shoulder and left him standing at the railing. Down a flight of stairs to her bed-sit, the small room she had moved into when she left John. Opened her closet and grabbed her duffel from the top shelf, still heavy with stuff from the voyage to Rauta Shèràa. Coveralls. Boots. Small clothes.
Jani's Noah bag,
Lucien had once called it.
Two of everything in case of disaster.

What have you been up to, Lucien? I haven't seen you since we got back.
Probably toying with her as he had with
Val, declaring his interest, then holding back to see if she cared.
Eternal gamesman.
She checked the scanproof compartment beneath the duffel's fake bottom, which contained her scanpack and shooter. Tools. IDs in a number of names. Because she liked to keep in practice, and because you never knew.

She closed the room. Locked it, because she knew she would return. Took the stairs to the courtyard. Waved to Dieter on her way to the entry, and felt his stare serve as escort as she walked out the door.

The garage proved empty, for which she was grateful. She opted for an older, nondescript blue four-door because no one would miss it and it wouldn't attract attention. Popped the gullwing, tossed her bag onto the passenger seat, and inserted herself into the cabin. Pressed the charge-through, edged out of the parking slot, activated a music band—

—and stopped.

“OK.” Jani pressed the charge-through again. The vehicle shuddered, moved forward a few meters, and stopped again.

“Way to make a break for it, Kilian.” Jani popped the hood, then got out and examined the multicolored array of boards and battery casings. “Where the hell do you start?”

“Problem?”

Jani turned to the entry. Saw the rangy figure, backlit by outdoor brightness. Felt her heart stutter, and called it surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Lucien shrugged. “I haven't seen you since we got back.” He wore civvies, white T-shirt and tan pull-ons. Trainers. “Just thought I'd, you know, stop by and see how things are going.” He stepped up to the skimmer and pondered its innards. “What are you doing?”

Jani flipped up the top of a compartment cover, then closed it. “I'm trying to fix this thing.”

“What's wrong with it?”

“It won't go.”

A corner of Lucien's mouth twitched. “That narrows it down.” He walked outside to his skimmer, a sleeker two-door the same coffee brown as his eyes. Opened the boot and drew out a large slingbag. “Would you like me to have a look?” Without waiting for an answer, he dropped the bag in front of the balky vehicle, crouched down and started rummaging. “I may have something here that can help.” He drew out a scuffed grey oval about the size of a scanpack.

Jani caught a glimpse of the bag's contents before he closed the top. Other ovals. Squares and canisters. A lumpy polycloth roll tied with cord. “Are all those things what I think they are?”

“Just tools.” Lucien placed the oval against the large flat-sided case that held the skimmer's brain. The device adhered. Hummed. Then dull blue light fluttered across the surface before settling down to a steady throb.

Lucien disconnected the oval and read the script that scrolled across the surface. “It's dumping your code. It's not that it doesn't recognize your permission to drive it, it's that it forgets. So you'll be able to reinitialize and start it, but as soon as you try to make a change that requires your code, like a Net setting or somesuch, it will have forgotten that you're allowed to drive it and shut down.”

Jani shrugged. “So I won't try to reset anything.”

“It's not that simple. You don't know the cause. Pinhole leak in the battery housing. Bad board.” Lucien powered down the device and tossed it back into his bag. “The code-dumping is a symptom, not your main problem. Even if you don't touch anything, the skimmer could still stall out and leave you stranded between here and wherever you're going.” He crouched down, concentrated on closing the bag. “Where are you going?”

Jani watched him fuss with the closures, drawing out the task, giving her plenty of silence to fill. “Just wanted to take a ride into Karistos.”

“To see John?” Lucien stood, all perky helpfulness. “I can
take you.” He nudged the bag out of the way with his foot, then started to push the malfunctioning skimmer back into its slot. Looked through the open gullwing into the cabin. “Don't forget your—” He eased the skimmer to a stop and stared at her.

I should've put it in the boot.
Jani shoved her hands in her pockets and tried to avoid looking at him.

“You're leaving?” Lucien moved away from the vehicle and into her sightline, leaving her little choice. “Where are you going?”

I should lie.
But she didn't want to. “Meteora. The site of our southern expansion.” She walked to the skimmer, tried to open the passenger door—

“It dumped—”

“My code.” Walked around to the driver's side and dragged out her duffel.

“For how long?” Lucien finished pushing the skimmer back into place, then shut the door.

“For as long as I need.” Jani slung her bag over her shoulder and examined the other skimmers. “I'm surplus to requirements here. Everything's clicking along.” She leaned against a charge-station. “I need to go someplace that isn't. Clicking along. Yevgeny likes reports with tables and charts and whatnot. I thought I could go in search of some whatnot.”

“I can drive you there.” Lucien hoisted his bag, then stood there looking like a star athlete in search of a gym. “I have time.”