Everwinter: The Forerunner Archives (15 page)

It feels like my heart has stopped in my chest. "Y-you're fault?" I stammer. T
here were only two people in this world that could be blamed for the mutations, and I'm one of them. The other is probably dead. 

Gods damn you, Jude.

Ursa seems to sink into herself. "Yes, I, um,
we
used to do experiments here. On mutants. We were looking for a cure.
I
was looking for a cure." Ursa pauses, gathering herself. "You see, I've always been a mutant. I was born one. Oh, not as you see me now. Most of my current mutations are self-inflicted. Trial and error, you might call it."

My jaw nearly hits the ground. "You experimented on yourself?" My astonishment floors me.

Ursa nods timidly. "Mutants are, ahem,
were
outlawed in Eversummer, as I'm sure you know. Thou shalt not suffer a mutant to live. That made it nearly impossible for us to acquire test subjects. So I volunteered myself."

"Why weren't you killed before?" a voice floats from the back of the lab. We all turn to find Traylor, nosing about
–as I should have known he'd be doing.

Ursa looks startled
, but I try to soothe her. "Sorry, that's my little brother. He doesn't know the meaning of tact."

Ursa nods, granting Traylor a smile. "It's a valid question," she admits. "The world would be a better place if more people asked questions, young man." Traylor blushes, despite himself.
 

Ursa sighs. "I was lucky," she explains. "I was able to hide my mutation most of my life. It was nothing major a
nyway, and my parents were free thinking types. They never bought into the True Body Plan dogma."

I laugh to myself, louder than intended.

"What?" Ursa asks, seeming offended. "What is it?"

I shake my head. "Sorry, it's nothing. It's just... I
really
wish my Father was here to see this."

"Dogmatic, was he?" Ursa asks.

I nod emphatically. "You could say that. He's the reason we're here. He sent us."

"He sent you?" Ursa echoes, the disbelief plain on her face. "If you don't m
ind my asking: who is your Father, young lady?"

"Jonathan Quinn," I reply without hesitation. "High Deacon of Krakelyn."

Ursa nearly chokes on her own breath, coughing violently all of a sudden. "Did... Did you say…Jonathan Quinn?"

"Yes," I confirm. "He sent us here because he thought you could help us. You see..." I turn to Altair, who nods for me to proceed.
Gently, I pull at the grey matter that is plastered all over my face. My mutant disguise. It peels away with some difficulty, but I manage to get one cheek uncovered.

"I'm Juno Quinn," I say with a smirk. "And this little bugger," I wave dismissively, "is my brother, Traylor." Traylor gives the astonished Ursa a wave from the back of the room, fiddling with something. "And we're not mutants, Ursa. We're the last humans."

"J-Juno? Traylor?" Ursa mutters to herself in astonishment. She stares at me then spins to look at Traylor. She stalks calmly over to my little brother, going to her knees beside him. She pulls at his disguise, revealing a small patch of unblemished skin.

"Gods deliver us!" Ursa mumbles. She runs her hands all over Traylor, feeling his skin, his limbs. Traylor looks exceedingly uncomfortable. I smirk at him openly. Ursa then pulls something from an inside pocket of the long doctor's coat she wears.

We don't see what it is before it's too late.

Traylor screams and takes off, disa
ppearing out the door and down the hall.

"Traylor!" I scream
, but I know he's long gone.

My eyes fall to Ursa who's standing there stunned, holding an empty syringe in her right hand like a shooting iron. Altair is already out the door, chasing
after my brother.

"I'm sorry!" Ursa begs. "I just... I just wanted a blood sample! I
need
a sample. If you two are as pure as you say you are... I may very well be able to cure the mutations! All of my other samples were tainted by the Final Judgment."

I put a hand on the strange woman's shoulder, shaking my head. "It's alright. Come on, we gotta go find him. He can't have gotten far. Traylor
, um, had a bad experience with needles when he was younger. He HATES them." Thinking quick, I find Altair's pack and root through it, finding some of the leftover paste he'd made. I apply it to my face quickly, remasking myself.

Ursa sags, as if she should have known. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," I comfort her, "we'll find him. Let's just hope he doesn't draw too much attention to himself." Despite everything, I like Ursa. She feels like someone I can trust.

"Let's go," Ursa agrees, and she leads me out of th
e lab and back into the streets of Venecici.

19.

It's about two hours later when Altair finally finds us.

Traylor follows close behind him, eyes puffy and red from crying, washing away some of his disguise.

We're in an alley just off the mainstreet.

"He was nearly halfway to Apollyon when I found him," Altair jibes, ruffling the little guy's hair. Traylor just shrugs sheepishly.

"You alright, buddy?" I ask, but Traylor doesn't want to talk. "He'll be fine," I say. "Just give him some time. He acts like a baby whenever this happens."

"Shut up!" Traylor finally fires back.

"Just callin' it like I see it," I retort. "You're getting a little old to be acting like this, Traylor."

Traylor shakes his head. "Eat ashes," he grumbles.

"Enough," Altair intercedes, but it's Ursa who prevents it turning into a full blown fight.

"I'm sorry, Traylor," the woman says, kneeling down next to the little boy. "I should have asked you first if I could take your blood. I was just... I don't have a lot of interactions with regular people, and I was so astonished that you and your sister are still pureblooded that I acted without thought. I do that sometimes. Can you forgive me?"

Traylor seems taken aback but finally nods.

"Good," Altair announces through gritted teeth. "Now let's get back to the lab. We need to get to work on this cure as soon as possible."

"You are right, of course," Ursa agrees. She leads us back toward our new home for the time being. "Let's see... Oh, I wish I knew you guys were coming!" she muses. "I wouldn't have destroyed some of my equipment!" She pauses. "No matter, we have what we need, I think." She eyes me and Traylor, almost hungrily.

What a weird woman.

Altair maintains the rear as we walk. I slow my step to fall in line with him. "What happens now?" I ask. "When this is all said and done, if we find a cure, what happens? Will you take us back to Krakelyn?"

Altair nods, though reluctantly.
"Eventually, yes. The cure will have to be proliferated first, and we have to be sure that it works. Once you and Traylor are no longer the last humans, it will be safe for you to return." He hesitates. "That could still be a long time yet, Juno."

I sigh. "Yeah, I kinda figured. I just wanted to confirm it with you, that's all. I
– What the bloody ashes?"

We've just come out of another alley, a few block
s over from the canyon wall and Ursa's lab.

T
here's smoke.

Just beyond the final buildings, a thick black plume rises.
 

"Gods!" Ursa screams, resorting to a dashing lunge.

"Ursa, wait!" Altair orders, but the woman doesn't listen. "Gods dammit! Come on!"

Altair starts running and we follow.

The smoke overwhelms us as we get closer, breathing getting harder. Traylor starts coughing and Altair orders us to stay back, getting out of the smoke. We do so as he pulls off his shirt, revealing a rippling, rash ridden body, decorated in the strangest tattoos I've ever seen. I realize with a gasp that the scrolling images are words. The Ten Tenets, the basis of my people's former religion.

Thou Shalt Not Suffer A Mutant To Live.

The phrase coils from Altair's shoulder down to his wrist. The other nine Tenets are all there as well, inked on his skin.

Altair quickly wraps his tunic across his face, forming a breath
ing mask that I have trouble believing will be very effective. But Altair doesn't share that concern. With a last look back at me and Traylor–hiding in an alley–Altair disappears into the smoke. We stare at the spot he'd left for a full five minutes, neither of us saying a word.

The tension and anxiety are nearly unbearable.

I feel a pulling at my sleeve. "Juno," Traylor finally speaks up in a meek whisper, "should we go after him? He's been gone a long time."

I nod my agreement. They really
should
have been back by now. We wait just a little longer, and then I can't take it anymore. I start pulling my tunic top over my head.

"What are you doing?" Traylor asks, as if he doesn't know.

"What do think?" I snap back, in no mood for nonsense. "I'm going after–"

Something appears
out of the smoke.

Altair!

He's holding Ursa up under one arm, half dragging the poor woman to safety. She's coughing, but it sounds more like choking. The pair makes wet squishing sounds as they move, and I look down to see that, indeed, their feet are wet. It takes me a second to realize that they've been inside the entrance tunnel to the lab. Water runs perpetually off of those walls, soaking the floor. They leave eerily accurate water footprints on the white stone walkway. My eyes are drawn to another set of footprints, likewise leading out of the smoke, past our hiding spot and disappearing around another building. The prints are bare foot, leaving behind a distinct six-toed pattern.

Six toes?
I gasp.

They're identical to the ones Jude and I found on the beach back in Krakelyn. Did the same mutant set fire to Ursa's lab?

Altair and Ursa finally make it to the alley and we all move away from the smoke completely, the footprints slipping from my mind. Ursa collapses against the wall, sliding down the stucco into a puddle on the ground. She doesn't seem to notice. She coughs some more then pulls that same breathing cylinder from her coat pocket, taking a shot of air. Her coughing ceases almost immediately.

"I gotta get me one of those," Traylor admonishes with a smile for the woman.

Ursa smiles back weakly. "Hard enough it was to find this one," she says, her words confused and backward. Traylor deflates a little. "Don’t worry, you can use it if you ever need to," she offers. Traylor brightens up again.

Once Ursa's strong enough to get back on her feet, Altair gets right back to business. "Do you have a contingency site here?" he asks.

Ursa shakes her head. "This
was
the contingency site," she mutters bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

Ursa sighs hard. "This was not my original lab. This operation was
much
bigger at one time. We had an entire building to ourselves, with dozens of scientists working together." Ursa pauses, clearing her throat.

"Does it still exist?" I ask, devastated that my journey isn't over after all. However, I'm surprised at my own determination to carry on.

Ursa shakes her head, then nods. "Well, yes,
technically
it still exists. But we had to abandon the place years ago. There's no telling what has become of it now. When it was discovered what we were doing, the mutants drove us out."

"Mutants?" I ask, skeptically. "
Um, just where was this lab?" I think I know the answer, but I'm scared to hear it.

Ursa hesitates, dropping her eyes. "Everwinter," she says finally. "The other lab is in Everwinter." My jaw hits the floor.
 "I just can't believe this happened," Ursa cries. "Who would do such a thing?"

We're all at loss for words.

Altair looks unmoved, but that's normal for him.

Traylor, astonishing
ly, smiles. "Everwinter?" he asks. "That's like, where the
really
bad mutants live, isn't it?"

20.

"This is a really stupid idea," I say, crossing my arms as if that would settle the issue.

"There is no choice, Juno," Altair rebuts, crossing his own arms in mockery of mine.

We're standing in a secluded corner of Venecici Station, waiting for the next Engie to show up. The p
lace is crowded, full of mutant beggars who carry all of their worldly possessions on their backs, looking to buy passage out of Venecici. Demand is high for such a passage right now, and supply in the form of space is low. 

The price is not cheap.

"We don't even know if this mythical lab still exists," I counter, keeping the argument going.

"Oh, it
exists," Ursa mouths casually, sliding in beside Altair. "I just don't know what kind of a state it will be in. The mutants of Everwinter certainly had little love for the place."

I keep my expression unmoved.

"You're one of the two last humans, Juno," Altair points out in a hushed tone, as if I don't know it already. "Your responsibility to mankind supersedes any irrational fears you might have."

"Irrational!" I object, keeping my voice likewise low. "It's exactly because I
am
the last human that I want to stay as far from Everwinter as possible! You've heard the stories! The mutants there have white flesh because they live in perpetual darkness, no eyes because there's no light to see by, and they feast on the flesh of the living because there's nothing else to eat!"

"I heard they drink blood," Traylor adds, sarcastically. He's not on my side; he's actually excited to go to Everwinter.
 

Altair puts a hand on my shoulder. "They're
just
stories, Juno. You said so yourself."

"How do you know?" I stubbornly continue. "Have you ever been to Everwinter?"

Altair sighs, clearly reluctant. He doesn't want to admit that he hasn't. "I
have
," he finally answers.

I'm taken aback. "Really? When?"

Ursa is next to me now. "I'd like to know as well," she says. "Not many people from Eversummer venture over to Everwinter. Even fewer come back. Why else do you think we chose to locate our lab there?"

Altair shrugs. "It doesn't matter. I'm an Assassin, and it was part of my job. That's all you need to know."

Ursa and I eye each other warily. I guess we aren't going to get a more satisfactory answer than that. Not yet at least.

A sudden, shrill wh
istling echoes throughout the vast open air space and, through a brick arch hanging over the track, the Engie bursts into view. There aren't many Engies left in Eversummer. I've seen the one in Krakelyn, but it broke down before I was born. Seeing one up and running is a bit of a thrill. This one is bullet shaped, red, and made up of a dozen similarly shaped compartments–some for passengers, others for cargo. Cattle and grain, mostly. There's some cattle on this Engie–the smell gives it away–but it's immediately clear that the people running things are not discriminating; they're packing on anyone who paid the hefty price to get aboard.

Not that many, considering how many people are waiting here.
 

The conductors are mobbed by the poor masses, beggars
wanting to be let on for a lesser fee or free altogether. One of the conductors screams for the lot of them to get back, raising a shooting iron into the air and firing it once. The crowd scatters, likewise screaming. 

The way is clear for us.

"That's our cue," Altair nods. We start moving.

"Hard to believe that that stupid Forerunner plow was enough to get all of us on here," I say, grumbling.

Altair looks at me warily. "That machine would normally be worth enough to get half the people in this station on board," he gestures. "Hard times."

"I guess," I say with a shrug.
 

The man Altair had bargained with at the station had been pretty shocked when we pulled up in the plow after retrieving it from the jungle outside the city. He hadn't believed we really had one. Altair finds the same man now, standing with the conductors, and walks up to him. They exchange a few words, then the man smiles and points to a car near the rear of the Engie.

A cattle car.

"And yet, we can't afford a Prime Class seat," I grumble.

Altair rolls his eyes as he rejoins us, moving toward the back of the vehicle. "Not for four of us," he replies curtly. "Besides, there won't be as many people back here. It'll be better that way." He's talking about mine and Traylor's disguises. Altair made more of that grayish fruit paste and applied it to our faces. The fewer people that get a close up look at us, the better.

We reach our car, wide open on the side with a large sliding door, all smooth metal. The sounds and smells of pigs, horses, and cows attack our nostrils. I hear Traylor groaning mournfully.
 

I smirk back at him.
Not so fun now, is it?

Altair climbs up, a small stool provided as a step. He helps first Ursa, then Traylor aboard. I'm last. I look under the train as I step up. The bottom of the car is outfitted with two massive magnets, both of which repel and hold the vehicle
in the air between two massive metal rails. The actual Engie is at the front, an oil fired motor spewing smoke and flame out the back. It’s thought that Engies were once powered by the sun. But that technology no longer exists. Current Engies are an amalgamation of Forerunner and Eversummer technology. That's why an Engie was allowed in Krakelyn, at one time. It couldn't be proven which parts of the technology actually belonged to the Forerunners, and the benefit of the doubt was given; a loophole exploited by more than a few Krakelyners. 

I ascend onto a straw strewn floor, littered here and there with animal droppings. The cattle
are corralled in pens on either side of the car. I thank the gods that the animals aren't loose in here. There are six other people in the car with us–two per corner–leaving us with our own. We settle into it, stacking bales of straw to create a seating area. We sit, eyeing our co-passengers and munching on some rations we picked up in town.

"How far is it to the Fringes?" I ask, breaking the nervous silence.

I look at Altair, but it's Ursa who answers.

"Well, I've always traveled by the Fringeroad to Everwinter, but it's been years and I've heard that way is no longer safe. From Venecici, it took about five days by horse cart, three in an oil fired vehicle. I've never taken an Engie though."

"Engies are
much
faster," Altair offers. "It may only take a single day. I'd bank on two though."

Ursa's eyes widen. "It goes that fast?"

Altair nods.

I'm just trying to imagine something moving fast
er than an oil fired engine. The Forerunner plow had been plenty fast enough for me. This Engie is oil fired too, but it has no wheels and virtually no friction to contend with. I find myself excited to get going.

The conductors outside call for final boarding and, five minutes later, we feel the car be
gin to lurch. A powerful whine issues as the Engie powers up. The side doors on the car slam shut, immersing us in semi-darkness. There are thin open slots on the side of the car, letting in light and fresh air. My eyes adjust quickly. That shrill whistle issues once more and we're finally off, the sensation of increasing speed rising with my heart rate. Through the side window slots, shadowy objects slash by at an alarming rate, but I can't make out any details.

Traylor pulls a hay bale close to the wall and sticks an eye against one, peeking out. "Wow!" is all he says.
 

At least he has something to keep him entertained.

I can't hold my curiosity back either.

I move over toward Traylor, stumbling a bit, not used to moving around on an already moving surface. I join him on the hay bale and peer out. Green blurs and grey smears blast across my vision. I focus on one in the milliseconds it takes to pass, seeing one of those tall trees with the broad leaves on top. The grey blurs are rock faces in the background. I'm used to the geography of this area by now, and while I no longer find it as fascinating, the speed at which we're traveling makes me queasy. I pull away and stumble back to my original hay bale, bending prone.

"Give it a moment," I feel Ursa's hand on my back. "It will pass. It's called sickness of motion. Most people experience it their first time."

I look over at Traylor, but he seems none the worse for wear.

Ursa shrugs with a smile. "Your brother is an anomaly, it would seem."

"You can say that again," I agree.

I look around the car at the other passengers. A few are watching us–including a scruffy looking dude with weeping sores–but they look away when my eyes find them. They give me the creeps. If it wasn't for Altair, I'd be pretty nervous on this trip.

To take my mind off
the nausea, I turn back to Ursa. "We haven't had much time to talk since this all started," I say, conversationally. "There are a lot of things I'd like to ask you."

Ursa nods. "I t
hought you might." She stares at me expectantly.

I smile at her openness and begin. "How do you know my
Father?" I ask. "Because from everything I know of the man, you are
exactly
the type of person he'd send to Judgment Square for heresy." I hesitate. "And he doesn't usually discriminate." The faces of both my Mother and Thomas Whiskeyjack flit through my mind.

Ursa clears her throat. "Well, to start, your
Father is a famous man, even outside Krakelyn. Before I met him, I'd heard of him long before. Any man who would condemn his own wife to Judgment is certainly deserving of that notoriety."

I stop breathing, shocked. "I guess that shouldn't surprise me," I say. "It's not talked about much anymore, but
everybody
does seem to know the story."

"Do you, um, remember your
Mother?" Ursa asks timidly. "Do you remember it happening?"

I shake my head. "I
do
remember my Mother, sort of, but I was very young when she died. I have images of her in my head, feelings, I guess. But I don't really know how accurate they are. She wasn’t around much." I pause. "My Father had sketches of her. Portraits. They probably influenced my perception of her."

Ursa nods, pulling her lips in. "A beautiful woman she was, with one unfortunate flaw. She managed to keep it hidden for years, even from your
Father."

"She was missing a toenail," I reply, eyes downcast.

"You knew?" Ursa says.

I nod. "Yeah. Everybod
y in Krakelyn knows about it. It's practically legend. I never knew if my Father knew about it before it all went public though."

"He did,
eventually," Ursa replies quickly. "And that's why he came to me for help. I was astonished. What he was asking me was in direct conflict with the religion he so fervently touted. In the end, I guess his love for your Mother won out over it."

I raise an eyebrow. I feel like Ursa is describing a man I've never met in my life. "Ok, but...
How
did he know you?"

Ursa hesitates, organizing her thoughts. "The people I was working for had a reputation. We were doing experiments on mutants in Eversummer, which was becoming an issue. T
ampering with the human genome is Forerunner science and, as you know, the ways of the Forerunners are the ways of death. Riots broke out. Your Father led the charge to shut us down."

"That sounds about right," I confirm with a sheepish smirk. "What happened next?" I ask, the air suddenly feeling thick.

"To my astonishment, after shutting us down, your Father approached me and asked for my help," Ursa replies. "He begged me. He...he said if I did this thing, he would make sure our work continued at a more secure location. The lab in Everwinter."

I gasp. I hadn't known it, but I am
right now traveling in my Mother's footsteps! My heart warms at the thought.

"Accept the proposal I did," Ursa continues. "And my closest colleagues came with me. We set to work on our mutation cure once more, using your
Mother as our test subject."

My jaw is nearly on the floor. I hadn't known
any
of this! All this time, and I’d thought my Father heartless and cruel for Judging my Mother in the name of his so-called gods. I guess I was wrong. He'd actually
blasphemed
, going against his own dogma to try and save the woman he loved.

I suddenly wish my
Father was here now.

"It didn't work though, did it?" I ask, the answer obvious but...

Ursa shakes her head. "We never had a chance to complete our experiments. We were driven out of Everwinter by the mutants and returned to Eversummer. It was during this time that the truth about your Mother came to be known publicly."

"How?" I ask, on the edge of my hay bale. Traylor has turned around too now, eyeing the mutant woman closely.

Ursa shakes her head. "I never knew exactly. At the time, it didn't matter to me. My experiments were over. The wrong people found out about your Mother's mutation, and the truth got out. Your Father had little choice."