Trident's Forge (33 page)

“I'd rather it not come to that. I don't want my first act as chief to be arresting my grieving ex-boss on murder charges.”

Theresa forced herself to unclench. Her fists had balled up so tight, her nails left tiny crescents in the skin of her palms. She was obviously just one small step away from a psychotic break. She took a deep breath, expelling as much of her anger and fear as she could fit into the exhale.

“You're right. By the book.”

“OK. Let's go.”

“Pavel?” Theresa grabbed his arm. He stopped and looked at her. “You're going to make an amazing chief.”

“Not too soon, I hope.”

“Oh no, not just yet. Let's move.”

They sprinted across the platform, past the enormous, five-story tall lift car waiting in its cradle. Panting, they reached the landing dock just as the ferry's ramp came down.

“Can I help you, constables?” asked the dock attendant standing by the gate waiting to check everyone in.

“What's your name?” Theresa asked, genuinely unsure of the answer because of the foil inside her helmet blocking her link to the personnel database back at headquarters.

“Aliaabaadi,” she answered, her face trying and failing to hide her anxiety and confusion at the sudden appearance of the law.

“Well, Ms Aliaabaadi, we just need to speak to one of your passengers as they get off.”

“Oh, OK. What's their name?”

“Hallstead. Yvonne Hallstead.”

The gate attendant punched the name into her tablet even as the passengers started to queue up to disembark.

“I'm sorry, but I don't see that name in the passenger manifest.”

But Theresa wasn't listening. She was too busy scanning the faces in the crowd, recognition software in her plant comparing each to Hallstead's profile that she'd saved to internal memory before putting on her helmet.

It pinged a match. Near the back, a hoodie covering the top of her head. Seventy-eight percent match.

“Thank you.” Theresa pushed past the attendant. “We'll take it from here. Pavel, toward the back. In the gray hoodie.”

“I see her.”

“Go left. If she tries to run and gets past me, stop her.”

Korolev acknowledged the order and stepped out of view behind a support pillar, lying in wait like an ambush predator. He'd gotten somewhat better at not standing out over the last few years.

Keep cool, girl. You can't arrest her. You've got no warrant. You just want to have a friendly little chat with the woman who killed your husband. By the book.
Theresa pushed gently through the crowd as they passed by to be processed and released to the lift car. They mostly ignored her or regarded her with curious or annoyed glances. All of them, except for Hallstead. The moment she spotted her pushing backward through the line and recognized her uniform, she locked eyes with Theresa and frowned.

For her part, Theresa smirked and made her way toward her with greater speed. “Ms Hallstead!” she called, waving a hand. She took a big step back and griped the strap on her backpack tighter. Then Hallstead's eyes went a little unfocused the way people often did when they were sorting through their plant OS. Her left eye winced almost imperceptibly, a common tic when a command was executed.

Theresa knew exactly which command Hallstead had tried to execute. Her eye twitched again, again. When Theresa continued to walk toward her, she stepped back into a bulkhead and went pale. And now she knew exactly what to say.

“Why, Ms Hallstead. I'm surprised to see you here. You almost gave me a
heart attack
.” Theresa piled the emphasis on the last two words so her meaning was unmistakable. Hallstead's pointy brown eyes went wide.

“How? How did you…”

Theresa tapped the side of her helmet. “Mad-hatter, motherfucker. And now, you and I are going to have a little talk.”

Hallstead's disbelief quickly slid into terror. “But, you can't–”

Theresa cranked up the pressure. She needed her to break. To say or do something incriminating. “See, you really fucked up. I didn't even come down here with a warrant to arrest you. Didn't want to risk alerting any agents you have trolling the network. If you'd have kept your cool, you could've breezed right past me and waltzed right onto that lift car and four days later, you'd be suckling up to your master's teat on the Ark, eating fresh pond fish in whatever penthouse they set you up in for killing Administrator Valmassoi, Captain Mahama… My. Husband. You were so, so close…”

“But, I didn't. They–”

“They
what
, Yvonne?”

Literally backed into a corner, Hallstead's terror snapped into panicked action. With surprising speed and power, the small woman shoved Theresa off balance, sending her toppling backward. Her arms pinwheeled trying to keep her on her feet, but Hallstead was already on top of her.

Stupid, sloppy
, Theresa thought as the scrawny programmer pressed her attack. But while her desperation gave her a certain animal viciousness, she lacked finesse and discipline. Theresa had been training and rolling with alpha constables for as long as she could remember. She was used to sparring with people twice Hallstead's size and possessing an order of magnitude more competence. One of her whirling arms gripped her left wrist, and in the blink of an eye, Theresa rotated her mass around their mutual balance point and redirected Hallstead's momentum in a more productive direction. Productive for Theresa's purposes, that is. Hallstead flew face first into the bulkhead with the wet thump of a ripe melon wrapped in a towel.

To her credit, or maybe just owing to adrenaline, Hallstead shook off the hit and scrambled back up to her feet, but not before Theresa had leveled her stun-stick at her forehead. She pressed the stud on the silver pen-sized stick and waited for Hallstead's limbs to go into convulsions.

Nothing happened.

Now it was Theresa's turn to be surprised. She pressed it again with an identical lack of results.

Hallstead didn't wait around for her to figure out why her stick wasn't working. Instead, she jumped to her feet, grabbed the backpack she'd dropped, and ran up the exit ramp.

Oh no you don't
. Theresa gave chase, but Hallstead grabbed the other passengers as she ran and shoved them into her path, slowing her down. She reached the top of the ramp first and broke into a flat run across the platform, headed for the lift car.

“Pavel!” Theresa shouted, springing the trap. The younger constable stepped out from his cover, cutting off Hallstead's line of flight. The programmer skidded to a stop, the soles of her shoes screeching against the grated metal deck plates. Hallstead tried her little cardiac arrest trick at the same time Korolev tried to hit her with the stun-stick. Neither worked, much to the surprise of both of them. Now Theresa knew it wasn't something wrong with her stick.

“She's blocked the sticks somehow, Pavel.”

Korolev grunted and ran straight at Hallstead, but a sudden electric whine and a rush of movement stopped him as a small quadcopter drone swooped down in from of his face and shocked him with a miniature electric prod.

“Ow!” Korolev shouted as his forearm shot up to swat away the mechanical interloper, but it deftly dodged the strike, then hit him again. It was an artificial hawk, Theresa realized, one of a small fleet that kept the anchor platform and other important installations clear of the local bird analogues. Hallstead must have hacked it and convinced the stupid thing that Korolev was a bird in need of scaring off. The little shit was certainly full of surprises.

“It's over, Yvonne,” Theresa shouted. “You're under arrest on two counts of assaulting a constable and one count of being a little bitch.”

“Little bitch, am I?” Hallstead unshouldered her backpack and held it at arm's length.

“Aah! Drop it!”

“Gladly.” She dropped the bag to her feet and gave it a contemptuous little kick. It came to rest about a meter away. Theresa took a long step toward it. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

Theresa paused. “Why's that?”

“Because it's my little insurance policy. It's a bomb. A very powerful bomb. Which I can trigger with a thought.”

Theresa's breath froze in her throat. “How powerful?”

“Well, I'm no demolitions expert, but it should be enough to wipe the deck clean, maybe even cut the ribbon, if I packed enough shrapnel. Your foil hat won't save you from this one. What do you say, chief? Want to risk it?”

By then, the rest of the passengers were falling over each other to get back down the gangplank to the ferry. Theresa, however, didn't dare move a muscle. What Hallstead was talking about wasn't just the death of everyone on the rig. With the tether cut, Shambhala would be cut off from the Ark's power and food supplies. She wasn't threatening Theresa with death. Hallstead was threatening the entire colony with starvation.

“That's what I thought.” Hallstead casually strode over to the pack and heaved it back onto her shoulder. “I'll just hold onto this for safekeeping, as long as there are no objections? No? Good. Now, here's what's going to happen, chief. You and your friend here are going to stand perfectly still, doing nothing more ambitious than breathing, while I walk up to the lift car and–”

It was at that moment that Korolev interrupted what was developing into a very promising speech.

With his left arm numbed by the repeated prods of the faux-hawk, Korolev charged at Hallstead's gloating form and dropped a shoulder into the small of her back, just below the dangling backpack. The scrawny coder's head and arms snapped backwards even as Korolev's momentum shot her torso forwards with a shock, driving both of them toward the platform's safety railing.

Theresa realized Korolev's plan and hurried to join in. She sprinted at Hallstead and threw all of her weight into a fist aimed squarely at her solar plexus. It connected. Hallstead's body whiplashed forward, doubling over on itself as she struggled to recapture the wind Theresa had just knocked clean out of her, which brought her forehead into contact with Theresa's.

Together, Korolev and Theresa grabbed Hallstead by the shirt, hoisted her limp body into the air, and pitched her and her bomb over the railings with a heave. Doing her best impersonation of a Wilhelm scream, Hallstead belly-flopped into the water ten meters below.

“Did you think to waterproof that bomb, asshole?” Korolev shouted down to the woman now struggling to tread water.

“By the book, huh?” Theresa said conversationally. “I don't remember reading that in the book.”

“It probably got cut in the rewrites,” Korolev answered.

“Still, they should put it back in. Maybe they can add it to the movie.”

“We should be so lucky.”

Below them, Hallstead was busy shedding her backpack before the weight dragged her down to the bottom.

“Should we fish her out?” Korolev asked.

“In a minute. She looks like she could use the exercise.”

“Taking over Bryan's job as athletic director now, too?”

“Someone has to,” Theresa said, her voice sharp as the jagged end of a broken bottle.

K
exx's arms
burned under Benson's constant weight tugging at the rope tied around zer waist. The humans were short, but so, so heavy for their size. Zer shoulder, still punctured by fullhands of tiny teeth marks from the caleb attack, strained migtily from the load.

Then, Benson started swinging on the ropes.

Next to zer, Kuul grunted mightily with the exertion of staying stuck to the rockface.

“Hurry!” Kexx shouted down to Benson in human.

In answer, Benson cursed and pumped zer legs, hard, swinging for the rockface beyond the overhang. The tension finally proved too much for Kexx's grip. One of zer fingers peeled free of the thinseam ze'd clung to, then another. Before Kexx even had time to scream, ze was slidding down the rock, frantically clawing at the rock trying to regain purchase, but finding only fresh scrapes instead.

Then, zer feet left the rock behind and floated free in the air. With one last, desperate lunge, Kexx thrust zer hands at the rock. Zer right hand found nothing. But, right at the edge of the overhang, zer left hand caught a knobbly hold jutting out into the air. Zer fingers clamped down around it, contouring to match it precisely and gain the maximum grip.

Zer momentum carried Kexx over the edge and into open air. With a painful jerk that threatened to rip zer arm clean out of zer shoulder, Kexx came to a stop. Zer shoulder, the muscles in zer forearm, and zer hand all wailed in pain, but zer grip held as ze dangled by one hand over the drop.

It was only then that ze realized the rope connecting zer to Benson had gone slack. Kexx looked down, expecting to see a frayed rope and zer friend freefalling through the air. But instead, Benson looked back up at zer, clinging to the rock beneath the overhang, laughing.

“Not funny, Benson!” Kexx shouted as ze found another hold for zer other hand.

“Sorry, Kexx. I'm just relieved you're OK.”

“We have a long climb yet before we can say that.”

Miraculously, they reached the bottom of the cliff without further incident. Kexx, Kuul, and Benson walked at the head of the convoy across the flat basin. Although it had been carved by a great river now dry, the valley floor was far from featureless. Immense stones protruded from the ground, worn around their bases by windblown sand until their tops bulged. It was like walking through a forest of stone trees. Nor were they alone.

“We're being shadowed,” Kexx said casually to Benson in zer language.

“I know. I've seen three of them. Are they preparing an ambush do you think?”

“They wouldn't dare.”

“You keep saying that…”

Kexx ignored the comment and focused on trying to spot the scouts. Ze'd seen at least seven of them, devilishly well camouflaged with body paint mixed from the surrounding rock and sand. For every one Kexx had spotted, ze expected there were another four or five hiding among the stones. Which was rather large for a scouting party. Kexx picked up the pace.

Ahead, the stone trees thinned out, then disappeared entirely. In their place, a line of enormous statues carved from black rock dominated the edge of a chasm that held the remnants of the river that had carved the valley. Each stood four times taller than an adult G'tel, and had been carved into exaggerated representations of great Dwellers of their past, mostly warriors, so their memories could continue to defend the city even after their return. They were impressive, imposing monuments, meant to intimidate anyone who dared to enter Dweller territory with ill intent. But still, none of them were as impressive as the Black Bridge.

A single, unbroken piece of the same dark stone as the statues arched across the chasm to connect both sides of the valley. It was as long as thirty G'tel, and so old that no one could remember who had carved it, or how they'd dropped it into place. Centuries, perhaps millennia of feet had worn a shiny path along the centerline of the bridge, while heat ripples rose from its surface into the air. Kexx had heard it described by traders returning to the village, but had expected it was just another exaggeration. For once, they'd undersold it.

“That's a big slab of rock,” Benson said.

“You have a gift for understatement,” Kexx said. Looking back over their party, Kexx could see the resolve wavering on many faces. Ze hardly blamed them. This was the definitive, no-turning-back moment. But, it had to be done. Swallowing zer own trepidations, Kexx stepped boldly forward and put a foot on the black stone ramp. It was warm on the sole of zer foot, almost uncomfortably so. Ze walked resolutely forward, daring the rest to follow with zer silence.

Kuul went next, then Benson, Mei. Soon, the entire caravan was walking single file across the Black Bridge, the first in living memory to do so who weren't traders. Behind them, the scouts who had shadowed them through the rocks emerged from their hiding places. Three fullhands of them, no, five fullhands. It was a none-too-subtle warning.
Act up inside our city, and there will be no escape
.

Ahead, the far wall of the canyon came into view.

The Dweller city entrance had been carved into stunning reliefs over the centuries. Temples to Xis, Varr, and even a small shrine for offerings to Cuut had been chiseled out of the soft rock layers. Multiple small caves and hollows had been dug out and expanded into homes and marketplaces. Shouts went out up and down the wall. Curious faces turned to take in the strangers. The shouting grew, and was quickly followed by footsteps as everyone ran to get a closer look. Children screamed at the sight of Benson and Mei. Adults shielded their eyes, cursing the humans as demons or deadskins, much to Kuul's amusement.

“See, it's not just me,” ze said.

“Not now, Kuul. Stay alert.”

“That won't be a problem.”

A few of the bolder adolescents broke from the ranks of their parents and elders to run up and lay a hand on the humans, then run back either screaming or laughing. Mei took the abuse in stride, but it was making Benson very nervous.

“Can you please tell them to stop that?” ze asked.

“I can ask,” Kexx said. “Whether they'll listen is another matter.”

Benson grumbled, but said no more. The largest and most adorned entrance, and the one Kexx could only assume led to the bulk of the city below ground, lay just ahead, guarded by a line of warriors who looked to be more than a match for anyone Kuul had under zer command. Here and there, Kexx noticed fleeting flashes of recognition on some of the warrior's faces.

“I believe some of these guards were part of the attack on my village,” ze whispered to Benson.

“I'm sure of it,” Benson said. “See how they're all pretending not to notice my gun? They recognize it. They've either seen one before, or they've heard the story. Only one place that could've come from.”

Kexx nodded. “Let me do the talking.”

“Fine with me.” Benson pointed at his head. “Can't understand a thing they're saying anyway.”

Kexx made eye contact with Kuul. “Stay sharp. And don't let our guest out of your sight.”

“Count on it.”

Kexx squeezed the warrior's forearm approvingly. Their faces shared a rippling pattern of friendship Kexx had never expected to display for Kuul, nor expected to see displayed in return. Without further ceremony, Kexx turned to the entrance and strode forward until ze was finally ordered to stop. Revealing zerself, the senior guard stepped forward.

“What is your business here, Cuut spawn?”

Zer accent was harsh, guttural, and exactly like the warrior ze'd encountered in the forest days earlier. Coming from a Dweller, Cuut spawn was not a compliment, but Kexx let the transgression pass without notice. “My name is Kexx. I am a truth-digger representing many villages. And it is with regret that I come to lay accusation before your chief.”

“You dare to come here to our sanctum, among our temples, and–”

“Forgive me,” Kexx cut off the brewing diatribe. “But we have traveled many days and lost lives to bring our claims before your chief. So unless you are ze, I have no further need of you.” Before the stunned guard could reply, Kexx pushed past zer toward the entrance and was immediately met by a fullhand of leveled spear points.

Kexx's eyes narrowed. Zer speech took on the angry tones of the Dwellers. “Have you fallen so far that you would interrupt a truth-digger in zer duties? Is so much evil hidden here that the light must be blocked?”

“Xis's warmth sustains us here, Cuut spawn. Not light,” answered the guard.

“Since when does Xis fear the truth?”

The guard's crests flared and darkened, but Kexx held zer ground.

“Xis fears nothing,” the guard said through strained teeth.

“Good, then you can lead us to your chief.”

“No.” The guard made a cutting motion with zer hand. “Just you, truth-digger.”

“And my friend here.” Kexx pointed at Benson.

“Absolutely not!” the guard bellowed.

“Ze is a truth-digger among zer people, just as I am. Ze has accusation to lay, just as I do. Under Xis's law, ze must be allowed to pass.”

“But ze is not of Xis's womb!”

“Probably not,” Kexx agreed. “In fact, I have no idea whose womb they come from. But humans were among the dead, so ze comes.”

The guard thrust a finger at Benson's gun. “Fine, but
that
stays here.”

“Why?” Kexx asked innocently.

“Because it is too powerful.”

“So, you've seen a gun before.”

The guard was about to answer when ze realized ze'd been backed into a trap. “Rumors have reached us,” ze said instead.

“What's the matter,” Benson asked.

“They don't want you to bring your gun.”

“But you can bring your spear?”

“It is traditional that a truth-digger be allowed to carry a weapon for self-defense.”

“Then why can't I bring my gun?”

“They're scared of it.”

Benson smiled. “Good. Tell them it's not my fault they don't make better weapons.”

Kexx smirked and relayed the message, which was about as well received as ze'd expected the insult to be, but left without any options and on the verge of self-incrimination, the guard relented.

“You two, follow me. The rest stay here. And we'll take your prisoner now.”

Kuul gripped zer spear tighter. “No. You won't.”

“Ze means it,” Kexx said. “I wouldn't want to be the first to test zer word. Or the second, for that matter. Our… guest ambushed us with caleb, er, with very large uliks. We have an accusation to lay against zer as well. Ze remains with us until the truth is known.”

The guard leaned in, close enough to Kexx's face that ze could smell the rotting bits of fungus stuck between zer teeth. “You make a lot of demands for someone so far from help, Cuut spawn.”

Kexx leaned in just fractionally closer. “I ask only for the courtesies I am due, the same courtesies I would extend if our situations were reversed. Now, is it your intention to delay us all day?”

The guard's face twisted up, and for a moment Kexx tensed up in preparation for a violent outburst. But instead, ze spun around on zer toes and stalked off down to the entrance to the caves. “Try to keep up, truth-digger. I wouldn't want to delay you.”

Kexx grabbed Benson's shoulder. “Stay close to me. Move as I move. And keep your eyes open for trouble.”

“You do remember that I can't actually fire this thing, yes?” Benson lifted zer gun apologetically.

“Then try to look mean.”

“I don't look mean now?”

“Not really. Too pale.”

“First time I've heard that.”

They took off after their reluctant guide into the mouth of the caverns. The light of day quickly faded into the dim light cast off from the shine worms, fungal mats, and the body glow of the Dwellers themselves. It took a while for Kexx's eyes to adjust from the bright of day to the dark of the cave. Benson had even more trouble.

“Kexx, can you do that glowing thing on your back so I can follow? I can't see my hand in front of my face.”

Kexx obliged, expanding three parallel spots of light across zer shoulders so that zer human friend could gauge zer distance and orientation. “Does that help?”

“A bit. Thanks.”

Above them, Kexx could see that the Dwellers had carved positively enormous caverns into the side of the cliff. The natural caves had been expanded manyfold in every direction. What everyone had assumed were underground cities actually extended far upwards as well, maybe all the way to the top of the cliffs. Even now, the drumbeat of hammer and chisel echoed through the space as Dweller rock workers toiled to expand their city. The scale of it all was simply staggering.

Overhead, Kexx heard the odd clicking of an injri flock hanging from the ceiling. Ze looked up just in time to receive fresh fertilizer on zer forehead.

“Are those injri?” Benson asked.

“Yes.”

“And did one just–”

“Yes.”

Benson chuckled. “Sorry.”

Kexx wiped the guano off with the back of zer hand, then smeared it on Benson's shirt.

“Ugh, gross!”

“Sorry.”

Their guide led them ever deeper, down into Xis's womb. It wasn't long before the cold started to bite into Kexx's skin. It wasn't unbearable, but it would start to effect zer mind before long, slowing zer thoughts, muddling zer perception.

“Benson. I am… cooling. Watch me closely. If I look confused, or lost, remind me what we're doing, where we are. Will you do this for me?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Kexx?”

“Yes?”

“I still can't see a fucking thing.”

Kexx laughed easily. Their guide did not approve. “What are you saying to zer?”

“I'm sorry. My friend speaks only zer own language. We were joking about the cold down here.”