Spear of Light (19 page)

The loudspeaker went off again, clearer this time. “Stay near the Wall.”

He was already inside the boundaries of Hope, so he stopped them there.

People pointed up.

He struggled to understand. A thin white line bisected the sky. The faintest filminess existed on the side of the line closest to the Wall.

The shield that had stopped at the top edge of the Wall was growing downward.

It would protect Hope, or at least the part of it closest to the Wall. And quickly. He barely had time to sit and lean against the Wall, pulling Cricket in to him and stroking her head before the line was at his eye level. The edge touched the ground two meters away from him, and then buckled it, driving a slender crack into the surface of the path.

He stood and trailed his fingers across the surface. At first, the shield felt slightly warm, but then it lost any difference in temperature between it and the outside air. He couldn't see it, except very faintly in his peripheral vision. He stepped close and blew at it, and his breath didn't curl back on him. It went through.

If they could do this, why were they even bothering with Lym?

Manny found him, handing him a glass of wine from the bar. “Might ash well drink. We're in a magic bubble.”

“What happened?” Charlie asked as he took the glass.

Manny shrugged. “Shinin revolushion, comes here. Or from here. Or from the shky. I dunno anything. Not anymore.”

Charlie poured the drink Manny had handed him out and took Manny's drink from him, doing the same. The magical material that made up the pathway absorbed the alcohol as if had been water.

At least Manny wasn't drunk enough to ask Charlie why he'd poured away the drinks. “Sho what do we do now?” he asked.

“Wait.”

“Ish the attack over?”

“How do I know?”

“We're trapped,” Manny said. He walked over to the shield and put his hands on it, running them up and down. He looked like a mime from the summer talent show, a frightened one.

“I think I'll leave next time I can,” Charlie said. “Let's head back toward the ocean and see if we can even get there anymore.”

Manny cocked his head at Charlie. “Didn't you jusht come from there?”

“Yep. But standing still irritates me.” He turned. Cricket turned with him. Charlie didn't bother to look back for Manny. He would come. His uncle might be struggling with the loss of his power, but curiosity had always driven him.

The shield held itself aloof from the Wall; they had a path. Charlie's left fingertips brushed the smooth surface. It freaked him out, this thing that he could neither see nor cross. In truth, he was being brave for Manny and for Cricket. If they weren't there he might be gibbering. If he weren't moving he might be gibbering.

The narrow gap between shield and Wall slowed them. Charlie had to manage Cricket around any people they crossed paths with. It took half an hour to near the beach. He called to Manny. “Be careful. Watch your footing.”

“I've been here before,” Manny said.

“Good.” Apparently the walk was sobering him—he'd stopped slurring his words so much.

Charlie stopped, looking outward now that they could see the water. Before the attack there had been probably twenty boats. By the time he and Cricket had run away, there were maybe half that many, maybe a few more. Now there were three left. Debris floated on the water, showing a current that took most of it away from them and out to sea.

A shame. Before Nexity, a maritime disaster that fouled the water with so much wreckage would have been a regional event, and boats and people would be on their way to collect it all, to save any people who could be saved. Probably the same boats that sat ignoring this mess as it floated away unremarked.

Two boats seemed to float with the current instead of moving under control. They were fishing vessels, and Charlie would swear he'd been on one once for a class. Without warning, the last boat, the largest one, roared forward under full power, directly toward the clear barrier. It looked like it was planning to ram it.

Something whistled overhead and smacked into the boat, driving it underwater. Water, stern, engine, and emergency oars all imploded together, some of the wood and metal bouncing off of the shield. Whatever destroyed the boat had moved so fast Charlie hadn't actually seen it.

Seconds later, the other two boats slammed into the sea and erupted. Charlie ducked, but Manny pulled him back up and hissed, “Watch.”

He kept a hand on Cricket, always, protecting the domesticated predator yet again.

A leg floated on the water, almost close enough to reach. Then more debris bumped into it. A small raft of trash, including at least one arm, bobbed up and down before heading out to sea.

Charlie stood transfixed. Beside him, Manny was equally quiet. The silence felt shared, like neither man had to speak to know what the other felt.

After most of the debris had floated out of immediate sight and the whole scene started to look natural and calm, he said, “Those were
our
boats.”

Manny said, “They weren't our weapons, though. We've never allowed anything like that here.”

“There might be news in Hope.”

“But is there hope in Hope?” Manny asked.

Charlie hit him on the shoulder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

NAYLI

Nayli balanced on the ball of her right foot, poised for just a moment. Her opponent, her lover, her husband, also stood still. They watched each other carefully. Warily. Each held virtual weapons, swords of light that only they could see, beamed directly onto their retinas. Two screens showed what they saw for the benefit of onlookers. Nayli never glanced that way—seeing the screens could unbalance her, cost her a moment of attention that she needed.

Vadim made a more-than-worthy opponent.

No matter that the weapons were virtual; their movements were not. They danced the fight across a large open space in a cargo bay, barefoot on a thin tumbling mat.

Even though the game was already five minutes in, they still moved fast, breathing barely controlled, circling each other, wary of each other's every move. She feinted back and he fell for it, following her in.

She rushed him, unbalancing him.

He recovered, laughing, pressing her. He came so close that she smelled his breath, and she ducked away, preferring to have some space between them.

Their crew watched, part cheering for her and a slightly larger number cheering for Vadim.

She intended to show those crewmen who to back in the future. It might be true that Vadim almost never lost, but the few times he had lost, he had lost to her.

He gave her a slight tell that he planned to move on her right side. She blocked, only to find he wasn't actually there. She spun, kicking behind her, hoping to connect. Her left arm swung in a wide arc and her sword of light met only air.

A fist crashed into her cheek from the left. She went down, and more than half of the crew cheered.

She sputtered and stayed down for a moment, assessing her next move, using her weapon to keep him at a distance. She didn't see a way to get up safely. Not yet.

The ping of an incoming message let her save some face; Vadim tugged her up and whispered, “Nicely done.”

She smiled, already thinking about how to win next time. They went into the command room and sat. A screen displayed Brea and Darnal's avatars waiting patiently for the call to start.

Maybe they had a new target for the
Shining Danger
. Nayli rather hoped so. Two weeks had passed since they destroyed the
Next Horizon.
She and Vadim had abandoned Star Island Stop, and were heading vaguely toward the shipping lanes between Mammot and the Diamond Deep, and, not incidentally, back toward the
Free Men
.

Brea and Darnal really should rename the Shining Revolution's flagship something like the
Trillion Lights of Freedom
. Although Nayli and Vadim's recent kill had swelled the number of humans allegiant to the Shining Revolution, they needed another kill soon to keep their momentum.

No one else had done as well as she and Vadim had. One other Revolution ship had succeeded in wounding a Next transport and had gotten away. Two ships had been destroyed by the Next.

They took seats, and Vadim smiled at her. “Ready?”

She tossed her braid behind her and crossed her legs. “Yes.”

In avatar form, Brea and Darnal stood straight, uniforms pressed, every hair in place. They almost always looked like that in real life, too. The only way Nayli knew they didn't sleep in uniform was that their uniforms were never mussed. The iron couple, about to hold forth.

The stock image dissolved to show Brea and Darnal seated at a table they often used for meetings. Walls and table were both bare. Brea spoke first. “Have you seen today's news?”

Vadim answered. “No. What happened?”

Nayli held her breath, hoping they hadn't lost another ship.

“There was an attack on Lym. The attackers claimed to be Shining Revolution.”

“But they weren't,” Vadim said, “Were they?”

“If they were they might have won,” Nayli suggested.

Brea steepled her hands under her chin. “It was a disaster. The attackers were all wiped out. The mission planners might have been left behind in Manna Springs. We haven't heard anything about that yet. But now Nexity will be wary.”

Vadim leaned forward. “Were you able to trace the attackers? Were they with us?”

“That depends on how you interpret it. The only direct contact we've had with them is their joining pledges.”

Darnal picked up the narrative. “They were fighters who joined after the Deep, who made plans on their own while we were quiet. They flew down as part of cargo ship crews and snuck into town. There, they conscripted some locals on Lym.”

“I thought Lym was hard to get into.”

“Not so much now. Next ships come and go, and everyone who wants to become a robot is trying to get there as well.”

Nayli looked up. “You know there are probably chapters of Revolution on every station and ship. How many of those do we have covered with experienced leaders?”

Brea grimaced. “Only just over half.”

That left thousands of wildcards. “Do you have a plan?” she asked.

Darnel looked offended at the question. “We've started an information campaign about coordinated attacks.”

Beside her, Vadim tensed. He stood and stretched. “You can't manage everybody. The Revolution has grown. We'll need virtual training. And restraint.” He closed his eyes and went silent for a moment. “But there's no time, is there?”

“No,” Brea looked angry. “There
are
chapters everywhere. We started them on purpose, and we've lost control. We're working on that; it's our problem.”

“I'm sorry,” Nayli said. There was no help she could think of to offer, but Brea and Darnal wanted something or they wouldn't have called. They weren't asking for advice about rogue chapters or the attack on Lym. “Do you want us to go to Lym?”

“Do you think that's wise?” Brea asked.

She fiddled with her braid for a moment, thinking of appropriate answers. Brea's voice had been full of a test, an implication that there was a right answer and a wrong answer. “Most of our members won't know we didn't plan the failed attack.”

Darnal nodded. “More people join us every day. The number who leave is still small, but it's growing. You're correct to worry; failures could hurt us.”

“So we need momentum.” Nayli smiled. “Have you picked out our next target?”

Brea looked sour. “You just asked for it. Lym. I need you to plan a successful assault on Lym.”

She and Vadim shared a glance. He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “That will take months.” He grinned disarmingly, the grin he used on camera. “We should be sure to stay legendary in the meantime.”

She loved him for this subtle poking sense of humor. Besides, he was right. They couldn't disappear for months. “How about we take down two or three ships while we're planning?”

“What if you stop on a win.” Darnel didn't deliver the line as a question.

“Do you doubt us?” Nayli asked.

Surely it was a trick of the camera and the distance, but Nayli thought she saw a trace of fear cross Brea's strange, pale eyes.

“Never,” Darnal said. “But we need all of your attention. This will be harder than attacking the Diamond Deep.”

Of course it would. They'd need to move quickly; Nexity was rising fast and rumor had it they'd started two more cities. She started making lists in her head, thinking through resources and messaging.

Brea and Darnal had planned the assault on the Deep. They'd never let her and Vadim plan more than a single ship takedown before.

Was this a sign that they had earned more power, or that the Shining Revolution had grown too big?

PART TWO

THE FOLLY OF BEING HUMAN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SATYANA

A still image of Nona hovered in Satyana's room, her mouth captured in a wry smile, her fingers caught in the act of twisting a strand of blue hair into a tight spiral. Satyana had taken the pic during the call they had just hung up from. The Deep and Lym were in reasonable proximity to each other for face-to-face calls, and they would stay that way for the next few months. Ships could travel between the Deep and the planet in less than a week. It was about the only thing that seemed to be breaking their way.

Satyana spoke to Gunnar, who sat behind her drawing in his journal. “She's so vulnerable there. Doesn't she look fragile? At least she's finally growing into herself.”

Gunnar grunted. “I trust you noticed that she picked the fulcrum of a system-wide war to test her diplomacy skills. She doesn't have the experience for it. I'm not sure
you'd
succeed at shepherding Manna Springs through
this
crisis, especially not by leading from the back.”