A Warrior's Sacrifice (29 page)

In the morning, the world spun. Corwin was sure that he'd eaten something very bad, and very dead, the night before. A bottle lay on its side next to his bunk, two-thirds empty. He didn't know if it was the same bottle that he'd started with or a different one. He shrugged the concern away. Yesterday was an entire lifetime ago.

The message light flashed on his com. Opening it, Corwin keyed through the waiting messages: news from the front lines; internal messages about proper etiquette when dealing with the Lower Castes, but nothing from the Oniwabanshu. Nothing important.

He took the bottle from the floor, tipped it back. He breathed in the harsh fumes that meant amnesia and oblivion, for a time at least, and drank it down in four long, burning pulls.

With no food in his system, Corwin was drunk in minutes, the room upending when he tried to stand. He forced himself up to a sitting position, then to his feet, bouncing off the upper bunk as he made his way to the door. Kai, awakened by the jostling, grumbled and rolled onto his side.

Corwin wandered through a ghost city. He was barefoot, naked, drunk, and totally alone.

His wanderings took him back along paths he'd have rather forgotten. Into the square, where deep red still stained the plasteel roadway; into the dark confines of the jail and into the sweltering heat and soot of the recycling center.

Yesterday seemed so far away, and yet … and yet the pain didn't let up. It pressed on him like a tack in the sole of a shoe, small but with such consistency that he couldn't escape. Time would help, he knew. Time and distance — from this place, from everything it stood for and reminded him of Phae and how much he'd lost.

He wandered until sobriety found him standing at the storage room door. His head throbbed.

The door slid back, and his heart ached anew. Four sneak suits hung on the wall, but there were only three Maharatha to wear them. They had to take her suit with them at least as far as the small city of Oniwabanshu Inquest agents; they had to carry it like some insect's discarded molt.

Corwin touched Phae's suit where it hung on the wall. With a hiss, he snatched his hand back like he'd been shocked. The suit was alive, and by wearing it, Phae had attuned it to herself. It thrummed even now with Phae's own Sahktriya, an empty shell that somehow was still her. Even her scent lingered in the air.

Chahal and Kai appeared in the doorway, silent as Corwin watched Phae's suit, hoping along with Corwin that it wasn't really empty.

"Corwin," Chahal said, disturbing the air.

He rocked from the violent currents, head lolling to face his two remaining Voidmates, only two of them, his eyes big, pleading someone to help.

Corwin shook himself, the moment passed as quickly as it had come. The injured, lonely boy was replaced by a jaded, damaged man.

"What?" he asked.

Chahal held out Corwin's com. "You have a message," she glanced at Kai, "from the Guard General."

Corwin took it reflexively, fear lurching inside for a moment at what new emotional terror would spring forth from the digital screen — a feeling mirrored by his Voidmates. He flipped it open, the sound of the plasteel case snapping into the open position like a gunshot in the silent, prestorm air.

The message was a scant single line of text:

Void Commander Shura, see me in my chambers immediately.

Corwin flipped it closed as thunder peeled again. "Get your suits on." Corwin moved mechanically towards his own. He was cautious not to make contact with Phae's.

"Where are we going?" Kai asked. He whispered, but the space was so small that the question hurt.

"Guard General wants to speak to us," Corwin said. It was difficult to attain the focus to open his suit; his mind drifted to where Phae's empty suit hung and watched him with its insect-like face and cold, blank, dead visor. After a struggle he gained entry, his Voidmates helping to peel back the vine-like pieces of armor that threatened to snap back into place on Corwin's exposed skin.

In his suit now, Corwin helped the others enter theirs. Together they set off at a quick jog towards the Accession base camp and what remained of the Guard General's army.

The attending Car-Karniss guards granted the Maharatha immediate access, the three Humans pushing through the canvas flap that acted as the door. Once inside, they removed their helmets, reeling slightly as their bodies adjusted to seeing through their normal eyes and hearing through their ears.

The Guard General paced the floor before two Accession Priests, their conversation screeching to a halt as the Humans entered.

"Finally, you attend," the Guard General said, turning to face them. "You were not to be found after the battle. Where did you go? What did you find?"

Corwin frowned. There was excitability in the general's clipped speech, a rapid-fire hiss that triggered a memory from Corwin's days at the academy the general was nervous about something.

"We took our dead comrade back for burial — for recycling," Corwin corrected.

"You took nothing with you? Found nothing in your search of the base?" the general asked again. Yellow-orange flushed up from beneath the collar of her armor and then washed back to dull metallic green.

That flush? What was it? Expectation. "We took nothing except the dead." Corwin didn't move, his voice revealing nothing about his thoughts and feelings. He stared back into the general's reptilian eyes.

"Fine," she said. "You are released from your service to us." She turned back to the priests. "You all are dismissed. Go back to your Republic."

The Maharatha turned to leave, Kai pausing in the doorway. "Guard General." She turned her head. "I trust you found the
Śeṣanāga
and that it is safely in the Accession's hands?"

Yellow traced its way up the Car-Karniss' flexed neck muscles. "We have. It is gone. Away from the planet for safekeeping."

Kai nodded. "Good."

Out in the open spaces between the Accession base and the ghost city, kilometers fell away under the three Maharathas' feet.

"What did you make of that?" Chahal asked.

"She was lying," Kai said.

"Yes," Corwin said.

"What about?"

"Everything," Corwin said.

"They don't have the
Śeṣanāga.
I saw her flush yellow," Kai said.

"Was it destroyed, you think?" Chahal asked.

"No. I'm sure it wasn't," Corwin said.

"What do we do now?" Kai asked.

"We leave it alone. We go home. We get on with our lives." A few mental commands sent a message winging away to their CO:

Maharatha Phae from Family Niwin KIA in service to the IGA. Request replacement and leave for remaining Void members.

The reply was almost instantaneous:

Request for leave denied. Return to New Detroit, replacement awaiting you there. Stay busy and keep your mind occupied.

"Wickts," Corwin said aloud. Truly he couldn't blame them. They had a war to fight, Earth to save. They couldn't very well go about giving out leave to everyone who lost a friend or loved one in battle. Nothing would ever get done.

"What?" Kai said.

"We're finished out here. Phae's replacement and our new orders are waiting for us in New Detroit." Corwin's voice didn't waver. "We'll go back and grab our gear and Phae's suit. We have two hours before the next transport."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Homecoming. For most it inspired warm feelings of family and nostalgia; that was not how Corwin felt. He was back where he didn't want to be, amongst people he didn't care for.

If Corwin didn't know any better, he could have thought that the city celebrated the return of war heroes, but it wasn't the case. It was the July first Liberation Celebration.

It was today, 300 years ago, so the stories went, that the First Exiles made contact with a Prehson recon unit. That august group of aliens gave the struggling Humans technology, machines to produce food, and paved the way for Humanity's induction into the IGA with the Prehson as their Benefactors.

It was on this day, too, that the leaders of that besieged civilization had lifted the ban on children. It was unreasonable now to expect a Human to deny their biological imperative to create offspring — jendr even. But back then, the dangers of starvation, death, and capture were immediate and overwhelming concerns. They had children, but only a few were allowed out of the womb, and fewer still reached adulthood.

It was a celebration of many things: safety, security, and above all, reproduction. As a consequence, the celebration of Child's Day — the single day of the year where all children's birthdays were celebrated — occurred on March first, nine months to the day after the accord with the Prehson and the lifting of the ban.

The city was in the throes of celebration now. The normal fourteen-hour shift was cut to a meager eight, and the revelry went on all day and night, as every few hours a new shift ended and sober celebrants joined the fray. This was a time, too, when many new Iron Womb pregnancies were registered, the Republics' Families using the celebrating and resulting inhibitions to "acquire" genetic material from higher caste members.

It was into the madness of charged sexuality and alcoholic stupor that the three returning Maharatha stepped, free for the moment of their equipment and their baggage. They paused at the cargo port's doors, watching the droves of nude inebriates wandering the streets.

After so much time spent in the wilderness at a settlement city, the mass of people was shocking. In just the few moments that they watched the streets, the Maharatha saw more people than lived within the outpost's walls and surrounding area. Chahal and Kai, raised as they were
in
New Detroit, were taken aback. Corwin was terrified.

"When do we meet Phae's … when do we meet the replacement?" Chahal asked.

"At 2100 hours," Corwin said.

"What is the plan until then?" Kai asked. He shuffled to the side as eager Support Caste members pushed their way out into the streets.

"I've already reported us in via com. Go have a drink; have some sex. Meet at the barracks at 2030 hours," Corwin said as he walked out the door.

"Do you want to come with us?" Chahal shouted after.

Corwin didn't turn back or stop to answer. "No," he said over his shoulder and dipped into the ocean of people.

The party raged in all directions, and the smell of close-pressed bodies, sex, and alcohol overpowered the senses. People spilled out from the bars, and music — orchestral and electronic, all synthesized from the Oniwabanshu's Entertainment Caste — blared as one bar's temporary external speakers warred with its neighbors' down the street. Corwin, in his cargo pants, shirt, and combat boots was the most dressed of everyone around, and his clothing, the black with red piping, drew revelers to him in droves. Women, singularly and in groups, propositioned him as he made his way towards his refuge.

By the time he reached Waterfall Park, the celebrants had drained Corwin's emotions and mind. He entered his passcode, went through the gate, and sighed. He'd forgotten that the parks throughout the city became small, green beds for everyone to sleep together. But still, there were fewer people here than there were in the streets, and for that he was grateful. Springing into a quick jog both to stretch his legs and remove himself from the clamor of the city behind, he set off towards the waterfall.

The lower level of the park was much the same as the upper level as couples, trios, quads and more groped each other in the perpetual twilight. Corwin avoided them all, pausing at the edge of the river to ensure that no one watched. Disrobing, he picked his way along the rocks, the cool spray giving him goose bumps and soaking his underwear through. He climbed up the rock ledge, leaving the world at the wall of sound and water just a few centimeters from his back.

At the top, he almost slipped. Two women and two men lay drowsing in a post coital stupor atop the bed of soft moss that covered the cave floor. The moss that Corwin had so carefully kept pristine was marred by deep divots and gouges, the moss' wounds corresponding to the bits of greens and browns mashed under their nails and into the invaders' toes and other crevasses.

Sahktriya erupted unbidden from Corwin's body, that same Fear that he wielded against Grunts turned now towards these four interlopers who dared to invade his sanctuary. With a push of legs he was in the cave, standing among them.

"OUT!" Corwin screamed, his voice loud, primal, in the small space. "GET THE WICKT OUT!" He grabbed one of the girls, pulled her to her feet, and pushed her towards the cave's lip.

"Hey!" the other girl shouted back. "Who do you think you are!?"

"I'm wickting
Maharatha. N
ow GET OUT!"

They went, faster than was safe, but not fast enough for Corwin's liking, though he managed to control his anger as they retreated. His chamber now free, he sank down until his knees rested on the bare, wet, fake-rock floor. He shook, from the cold, maybe. His cheeks were wet.

Collecting what he could, Corwin tried to repair the damaged moss, but it, like Phae, was not immune to death.