The Seek, page 4
part #2 of New Earth Series
When she opened them, she could see the boys. Yentir had them in infiltration formation, and their timing and movements were tight and perfect. Kyn’s heart swelled watching the twelve young men who hated her moving forward with precision towards the target. The sound was acoustically perfect, and she could hear that they were as silent as they were synchronised.
Good, good. So far, so good.
It should be a clean run, she told herself. The intelligence was good. This valley was clear. They expected no resistance. But you never knew. Of course, you never knew. The universe was an unpredictable place. And these were virgin Avengers.
It was like a movie — too pristine, too sanitised. She watched as they laid the charges. Miners with blast packs were protected by the outer cordon of Avengers. She could almost feel the tension in those young bodies as they executed the manoeuvre exactly as they had been taught. Of all the missions Avengers run, this was the most routine, but the most important. Without the vientamite, the inhabitants of New Earth were doomed, Like the homeless thieves they were.
The screen turned red and brown as the blast unearthed the top layer of dust and the Miners hesitated for only a second before they laid down the suction packs and the bright green fluid poured into the glass cylinders.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Kyn’s fingernails bit into her palms. This was the worst bit, the most dangerous. The suction packs made stronger vibrations into the rocks than the blast packs had. If the Hydrentians were going to find them, this was what they would hear, this was when they would come surging forward with their green swords and bloodlust.
But there was nothing, only the endless hum of the suction packs and then, finally, the low beep that indicated it was time, and the pod needed to leave before their store of luck ran out.
The twelve boys Kyn had lived with and tortured for the last three months swept into a phalanx, shepherding the precious canisters back to the pod. She tried to pick out faces, but it was hard beneath their tight black breathers. Bodies were easier. She could see Yentir positioned in the middle, his huge body tense with the responsibility of the mission. And at the back was that loudmouth with the natural skill, Kendis, his caretaker, Pyten, behind him.
The line advanced carefully towards the pod, which sat white and ghostly in the blackness, a beacon of some faraway home.
Kyn forced herself to unclaw her hands. They were almost done. The hatch would open soon and the ramp would descend. They would load up, and then pack in couple formation, like they had been taught. Her hands clenched again. Which meant Pyten and Kendis would be last.
Was she imaging that she could see the relief starting to relax their shoulders; were they walking just a fraction more easily?
Stay focused, virgins.
As the ramp came down, the Miners advanced, the virgin Avengers packed tightly in a funnel behind them. Two loads, then three; then it was done.
Yentir made the signal and the first two Avengers leapt aboard the ship. Something in the lines of their bodies reminding Kyn just how young they were; they were like boys leaping for home base. They would do as they had been instructed — move straight up into the vault to protect the vientamite.
Two more; then another two. Half home. Kyn felt the breath she had been holding tight start to release; gently though, like a hiss from between her lips.
Yentir leaped onto the ramp now but stood there, motioning the last Avengers on board. But Pyten and Kendis held position, as they had been drilled. Even through the screen, Kyn could see the graceful lines of Kendis’ body as he swept the approach; the lines that had made her think of dancing back in the combat room. Her eyes followed the horizon line, trying to see what he could see.
But she didn’t see it coming.
A blue-black Hydrentian Scout, alone but pissed, barrelling out of the darkness from the direction of the valley of Vientamite, his green sword aloft over his thick black head, leaping through the air.
Kyn almost felt the jar in her own bones as the creature landed on Kendis’ back, his sword raised and slashing wildly. His bellow turned her stomach to water as she imagined his fear and pain.
Yentir dashed wordlessly down the ramp towards the scene, but Pyten was ahead of him.
Kyn tried to make her body still. Remember, don’t rush, one slash from a Hydrentian sword — anywhere — and you’ll be crippled with pain.
Pyten streaked towards the creature, and tore it from his friend’s shoulders, pushing it away from him. And then the two of them were locked in the dance, circling each other. Pyten had his sabre raised; the Hydrentian Scout had his lethal sword.
Kendis lay still on the ground beside the fight as Yentir advanced carefully: Kyn could see him weighing up the right approach. He turned swiftly. It was hard to follow as Kyn tried to understand what was happening. Then she saw it and understood. Two more Scouts were running for the ramp of the pod. Yentir would have to deal with them first, before he went to the virgins.
Pyten was alone. And Kendis. She could not see what had happened, but he had obviously been cut. He would be in unimaginable pain as he lay on the rocks.
Pyten and the creature circled each other before Pyten feinted to one side then surged forward, striking the creature with his sabre.
Good, he remembered. They’re fast and deadly, but less spatially aware than humans.
The poison blow knocked the Scout off guard, and he roared with fury. Kyn’s skin tingled with anticipation.
Now finish him. And get Kendis.
Pyten spun around again, this time lifting his arm high for a knockout blow. Kyn winced as she saw his error, and watched as the Scout drove his sword upward, driving into the softness of Pyten’s underarm.
Tight moves, Jesus, tight moves. They can smell a weak spot.
Kyn pursed her lips to stop them from muttering the instructions aloud. But Pyten was down. As he rolled weakly away from the Scout, her gaze moved to Kendis. She knew he would find it almost impossible to raise himself. She remembered him in the combat room: Why do we have to keep going? Why?
She wished she could whisper in his ear. This is why you had to keep going, Kendis, you arrogant little prick. You had to keep going back there in the training room, so you could get up here, however bad it is, however much you’re hurting. Now get the hell up.
Then her eyes flicked to Yentir: he was dealing with the two scouts at the entry to the pod as Avengers poured out to help him and the others. But there was not going to be enough time for them to get to Kendis.
Get up, Kendis. Get the fuck up.
Finally, Kendis moved. And it was lightning fast. He unfurled himself like a gymnast and hurled himself at the creature stalking his friend, green sword aloft. He landed on its shoulders and drove his sabre into its back. Its death bellow sounded sweeter than contraband music to Kyn’s ears.
He was alive.
They were all alive.
Chapter Three: The Visitor
She’d waited for them in the debrief room. She stood still, her back to the assembling group, examining the charts on the crystalair, trying to make sense of what had gone down. She heaved in a deep breath, waiting until the sounds of settling bodies had quieted before she turned.
When she did, she saw that they were kneeling. All of them. Kneeling with a fist laid across their chests over their hearts, heads bowed. ‘Magister,’ they said as one.
She couldn’t let them see the tears pooling in her eyes. She waited two more heartbeats, blinking them back, before she spoke. ‘Enough,’ she said, working hard to keep her voice even. ‘You did well out there. Stand.’
As they did, she saw it was a different group than the one that had left her. Less cocky, less sure. Perhaps even less frightened. They’d been blooded.
Kyn’s eyes swept the group. ‘Where’s Pyten?’
Kendis stepped forward and paled. She studied his pretty face and eyes older than they should be as his Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘Med wing,’ he said quietly.
The bottom dropped from Kyn’s stomach. All virgins reported for debrief after their first battle if they could stand, and even then sometimes if they couldn’t. ‘How bad is it?’
‘Fifty fifty,’ Kendis said, lowering his eyes. ‘It was my f — ’
‘Save it, Kendis,’ Kyn said, stalking back to the front of the room, her heart hammering in her ears. Hydrentian fire wounds. If he couldn’t walk, he probably wouldn’t live. ‘You did what you could. You got up. Lots wouldn’t have.’
‘I wouldn’t have,’ the boy muttered, and she could feel him following her to the front of the room. She turned quickly, and found herself standing very close to him. His eyes were red and looked even older than they had the last time she had stood this close to him. ‘I was a cheeky prick,’ he said quietly to her. ‘I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have got up, down there, if it hadn’t been for you, drilling it into me.’
She waved him back, and motioned the others to sit as well.
‘You got up,’ she repeated. ‘That was all you had to do.’
‘But it didn’t matter,’ he protested. ‘He’ll probably die anyway.’
She nodded slightly. ‘But at least they didn’t take his head. Because of you.’
Kendis nodded back at her, and took his seat.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘Time to go over the footage.’
***
She was in the private training rooms, the huge arena-like spaces they called rounds, when he found her, belting a training bag as if her life depended on it, as it so often had. There was a lot of technology that mattered now in this new world, and a lot it could do for you down in the firing zone. But none of it could replace speed, wits and strength. She slammed her fists, again and again, against the neocote bag, feeling it react to her like a real being, anticipating her swings, and dancing around her wilfully. This was no dumb punching bag. It felt good to spar with it; repetitious and clean, but also surprising, and the bag still managed to teach her a thing or two, as always.
She was kicking it when he walked in, but she didn’t stop. The flow was important. Your muscles needed to be allowed to finish what they had begun; what your mind had seen in its eye before it translated into movement. Like choreography. As she landed blow after blow, she thought about what the lieutenant had told her. The Dancer. Left foot, left foot. Right foot, right foot. Left. Right. Left. Yeah, well, this sure as shit wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d taken lessons from Madame Roucheau back in Sweetheart.
When the surge was spent, she turned to him. ‘General,’ she said.
The little rooster with the bright green eyes grimaced. ‘He’s gone,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘He was gone the moment he showed the Hydrentian his underarm.’
Jedro nodded back at her. ‘You okay? It’s tough, like that. First mission.’
She shrugged and turned her back to him so he could unclip her training vest. ‘Yep, I’ll survive. Pretty rough on the sixty-eighters though.’
Jedro grunted. ‘Yes it is,’ he agreed. ‘They gonna be okay?’
She paused, considering his question, and slipping out of her vest and gloves, hurling them into the box just to relieve the physical ache of thinking about sweet Pyten dying at the hands of a Hydrentian. ‘They did okay in the debrief,’ she allowed. ‘Considering.’
The General dragged in a breath as he watched her sit down on the floor and take off her boots. ‘You know you don’t gotta be tougher than anyone else, right?’ He kneeled down beside her and she took a little longer with the straps. ‘Just because you were Pietr’s — ’
Red light pulsed in front of her eyes. ‘Do we have to do this?’
Jedro puffed out his cheeks, and blew out air. ‘Do what?’
She sighed. ‘The whole soul-searching thing. Would you do this with the guys?’
‘As a matter of fact, I would,’ the General insisted, his voice crackly with irritation, ‘if they were determined to be the biggest goddamned hardasses the universe had ever seen. Take no help. Take no breaks. Generally work themselves into an early grave.’
She laughed, raising an eyebrow at her boss. ‘Earlier than what? In my occupation, I’m already a senior citizen.’
‘Don’t obfuscate, Kyntura,’ the older man scolded. ‘You know if there’s one darned thing I cannot stand it’s obfuscation.’
‘Pardon me while I go get my V-pad to look that up,’ she said, shooting him a nasty grin. ‘I didn’t get the same schooling you got. It was interrupted at eleven. Darnedest thing.’
‘You know damn well what obfuscation means, Captain,’ Jedro barked, reminding her none too subtly that she had to listen to him. ‘You’re the smartest damn Avenger I ever met. And you’re doing it again now. Obfuscating. I’m just saying you gotta ease up on yourself. You’ve got nothing to prove.’
He thought that was what this was about? ‘You think I’m fighting some solo girly gender war here?’
He shrugged. ‘Well, what the hell is it then?’
She stood up and he followed suit. ‘It’s just the job,’ she said. And then, trying harder not to sound pissed at him, ‘Leastways, it’s how I manage the job.’
The general studied her carefully. He was in full Avenger red, and she knew something must be going down for him to be kitted up like that at the station. How had she not noticed? She’d been trying too hard not to think about the image of Pyten with that exposed underarm — that was how.
‘He shouldn’t have initiated you, you know,’ the older man said quietly. ‘Pietr should never have done that.’
‘Because I’m a girl?’ she sneered.
‘That shit again? No, Sherlock, because he was your guardian. Goddamnit, he knew how hard this was gonna be. For anyone. I think about it, all the time.’ His voice softened and he ran his hands through his hair. ‘Why’d he do it? Why did he bring you in? You could have had a good life, a privileged life.’
‘He knew I needed it.’ The words were out before she even realised she’d thought them.
The General considered her, his head on the side. ‘You needed to kick some ass?’
‘I needed a release,’ she said. She knew it, had always known it, just as Pietr had.
‘Mm, maybe.’ Jedro didn’t sound convinced. His intense black eyes were almost slits as he studied her in her training pants and singlet. ‘There wasn’t a single thing Pietr did that didn’t have an agenda attached somehow.’
‘Don’t say that,’ she bit, stalking up close to him. ‘Don’t talk about him like that.’
But Jedro held his ground, like a rooster cocked for a fight. ‘He’s been a long time gone now,’ he said. ‘Sometime soon you might have to stop worshipping at his altar. I’m just sayin — ’
‘You’re just sayin’ something I don’t want to hear about someone — ’
‘Kyntura, you don’t owe him anything.’ Jedro sighed again. ‘He was a great man. And my friend. But anything he did for you, you’ve well and truly paid him back, paid us all back a hundred times over. Maybe you should think about what comes next. You’ve been lucky, so damned lucky. The missions you’ve run, the narrow escapes. And God only knows you’re the best damned Magister we have. But this is too hard, all this shit. I know what it does to you.’
‘It does that shit to all of us,’ she complained, feeling suddenly very thirsty and very tired of this conversation.
‘It does,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s not so personal for all of us.’
‘What’s more personal than saving your own ass?’ She tried hard to work out where he was going with this.
He held up his hands as though to ward her off. ‘I know you, Kyntura,’ he said finally. ‘I know this is about Pietr. You’ve paid any debt you ever owed him.’
He didn’t know. The fact that he could say that…he really didn’t get it. This wasn’t paying your dues.
This was survival.
How else did anyone manage, out here all alone?
How did you manage but through fight and pain? What else was there?
Pietr had known, he’d seen it in her. The spark that was like him. He’d fostered it. He didn’t enlist her to put her to work. He did it to stop her from going mad.
And even then, it was a close-run thing most days.
Kyn closed her eyes and remembered Pietr’s big, craggy face. And then, as always, the faces of the others wanted to press in as well. But she couldn’t afford that right now. Not while Jedro was staring her down and wanting answers; wanting her to…what? Take it easy? Chill out? Go take some cushy job on Mother Earth 10? Some geriatric home for washed up Avengers? She shuddered.
Kyn knew there was no place in the whole universe she belonged, but Avenger HQ was the place she stuck out the least. She flexed her hands above her head, stretching out the muscles that were aching from the punishment she had inflicted on them at the bag. ‘Thanks for the advice, Gramps, but I’m all good for psycho-babble today.’
She jogged over to the coolie and pushed a black button — a hydration tube slid out and she bit the top off and swallowed it in two gulps, relishing the cool wetness slide through her blood. When she turned back, she noticed Jedro was still there. If that was not unusual enough, he was fidgeting. A man like Jedro did not waste time in small talk and visitation, or precious energy in fiddling. She groaned. ‘What else?’
He laughed, and stilled his fluttery hands. ‘Whatcha mean?’
‘What, you here for my sparkling conversation? You’re standing there like a teenage girl waiting for her prom date.’ Cut to the chase, Jedro, we’ve known each other too long.
‘I’ve got someone I want you to meet.’
***
It was impossible for Kyn to believe she had ever been that young. She knew the girl had to be at least eighteen because she was standing before her in Avenger red, but still Kyn’s brain would not compute the fact of it. She was too baby-faced, too darned cute. Her sharp black bob grazed her jawline with military precision, but everything else about her screamed girl. Wide blue eyes blinked, assessing, as she studied Kyn studying her. Deep designer dimples punctured each full cheek. A wee snub nose wrinkled fetchingly.
