Falling Sky (13 page)

He rubs his beard. “If we take you, you won't be able to leave. Not for a while at least. You'll be grounded.” I try not to wince at the word, but I'm not sure how successful I am.

I nod. “That seems fair.” What else can I say? I no longer have a ship. The
Pasteur
isn't mine. Maybe this way I can work my way back into the air.

He nods again. This time deeper. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay? You'll take us?”

“Yes.” He smiles at me. He has a good smile, the kind that puts you at ease. The kind that seems genuine. The kind that still seems to know what happiness is. “Sometimes you just have to go with your gut.”

The trick to any settlement in the Sick is to secure it against a Feral incursion. All you need is to have a penned-up group of people exposed to the Bug. All it takes is one person to Fade, and the infection spreads. That's how the world got fucked, after all.

So in the case of Valhalla and Gastown they built the cities in the sky. No chance of Ferals getting up there. And with dirigibles being the preferred mode of transport for a large portion of the remaining population, it made a lot of sense. Until the germ warfare introduced by Valhalla.

But there are other places to hole up. I heard tell once of a converted prison. Seems to make sense, right? Defensible walls, watchtowers, plenty of places to sleep, plenty of storage. Kitchens, probably generators. The whole deal.

Only word got out of the place. And people flocked to it. And why not, right? They were going to start a new settlement. Get civilization working again. Only one of those people had the Bug. Somehow they got through all the precautions. Someone got sloppy or stupid and let them in and that person Faded. And suddenly those walls that were once great at keeping the Ferals out ended up keeping people trapped inside. And as the Bug spread, it overtook the whole place. Now there's a place on forager maps that says “Here there be dragons” where a city once lived.

The Bug just pisses on civilization.

As we wait for Diego and his ship, the
Osprey
, to lead us to the settlement, the atmosphere on the
Pasteur
is light. Sergei's humming some jaunty tune. Clay is out of my hair. And Miranda is . . .

Where is Miranda?

I find her looking at Alpha in his cage.

“I still think we should dump him somewhere over the ocean.”

Miranda sighs. She's used to this argument. She turns to me and takes off her glasses. Pinches the bridge of her nose. I notice the glasses have left a red mark. “He's all we have,” she says.

“He's really that important?” I ask.

She nods. “He's different. The virus he carried reacts differently to the formulas we've devised. So far we've been testing on the standard virus, but this gives us another way to zero in on the problem. Kind of like triangulating the position of your radio signal.”

“You managed to save some of your treatments?”

She nods again. “Some. In the field kit. But others shouldn't be hard to simulate. And if this new settlement has scientists, it might be easier.”

“How long do you think you can keep him?”

“As long as he lasts,” she says. “As long as he can give us blood.” She puts her glasses back on. “I'm not an idiot. We have to be careful. And the more we tranq him, the less he's going to last. But . . .” She turns back to him. “Maybe we can rig something. That lets us draw samples when we need to. I don't know. But he's the closest we've come to a cure in some time. I think that's worth holding on to.”

I don't say anything. I just rub a hand on her back. For a moment she leans against me. Then she's back to her notebook and I return to the controls.

“Thanks for this. Again,” I say over the transmitter to Diego.

“Like I said, I owed you for the medical supplies.”

He's joking, of course. It's worth far more than medical supplies. What he's given me in return is trust. That doesn't come easily in the Sick. This Diego is not your average man.

“So, where are we going?” I ask. Right now we're headed out over the ocean.

“You'll see,” he says with a laugh.

And later we do. Sergei is the first to spot it outside the port window. An island. Well enough off the coast to be off the routes of most airships, but close enough that it's within easy reach. The island is not that large. Larger than Alcatraz, but smaller than some of the other islands up north, the ones that pirates often use as bases and to stash their take. A few, much smaller, satellite islands trail off to the west like ellipses.

Much of the outside of the main island is ringed with jagged rocks, while inside the land has been leveled and buildings stand, places for people to live and work. It's well fortified, from the water at least. But it's vulnerable from the air, which is the reason for all the secrecy. True, there's no real reason for ships to come out this far, there's nothing to find out here. But if some did, the city would be vulnerable. To a few well-placed firebombs. Or Ferals. Which is why I understand their strict practices.

“You have some fancy secrets,” I say to Diego.

“Don't I just?” he transmits back.

“Now what?”

“Head for the docking platform. We like to keep our ships close to the ground so they can't be spotted from other ships. They want me to stay up to cover you. But I radioed ahead. Told them that you were coming and who you were. They'll let you down, but you'll have to be inspected.”

“Inspected?”

“To make sure you're not carrying secret troops or anything that could be used against the settlement.”

It seems fair enough, but then I think about Alpha back there in his cage. If anything could be dangerous to the settlement, it's him. But we're here, and we have nowhere else to go. So we're just going to have to talk to the people.

“So what's the name of this fancy new settlement of yours?” I ask.

“You know people,” he says. “They like old names. Its name is Tamoanchan.”

“Never heard of it,” I say.

“It's Aztec,” he says.

“What does it mean?” I ask.

I can hear the smile in his voice. “It means paradise.”

Things with the inspector don't go well.

I try to get in front of him, give him the news up front, that we're not trying to bring the thing onto the island, but he's not buying it. He calls for his backup and they come in armed to the eyeballs, and since none of us want to die just yet, we let them take us.

Ironically, they drag us off the ship and onto the ground, onto the island. There's pushing and shoving and then they wrap chains around us.

I protest, of course. Clay also mouths off, but they're having none of it. Two men grab me, one on each arm. A third drops a bag over my head that smells like old sweat, and they march us off.

After what feels like an interminable time being dragged across the ground (during which I wonder to myself why I ever left the sky after being back in it), they pull off the mask.

We're in a long hall—wooden by construction. They dump us on the ground, and the chains dig into my skin. I grit my teeth and get myself to my knees.

A woman stands in front of us, though not too close. Her face is anything but pleasant. Her blonde hair is cut short and she wears a red scarf around her neck. All her other clothing is dark—grays and blacks. The inspector said her name was Brana. Behind her are two more people—another woman and a man. They wear similar colors.

Anger comes off her in waves. “What were you thinking bringing that . . . thing onto my island?” Brana asks, though it sounds like more of a command.

“Please,” Miranda says. “We're scientists. We're studying the Feral. He's a test subject.”

“I don't care what it is,” Brana says. “That thing is a source of contamination. What if it got loose? Rampaged throughout the city? We have people here who escaped the tragedy at Gastown. I don't want to see that happen here.”

“We have him secured,” Sergei says.

“Excuse me if I don't trust the word of someone I've never met before. I am responsible for the well-being of all the people here. You gained admission here because one of our own vouched for you. But that only goes so far.”

“If you examine Alpha's cage, you'll see that it's secured,” Miranda says. “We've minimized the chance of infection to virtually nothing. And he can't get out.”

Brana looks directly at Miranda, being careful not to get too close. “Let me stress this for you. I. Don't. Care. I'm thinking the best thing to do is shoot your pet, then burn the ship and let it fall into the sea.”

“No,” Miranda says, trying to get to her feet. “You can't! He's too important!”

Brana shakes her head. “You people really are fucked in the head. You care more about that thing than you do about your ship.”

“We're looking for a cure!” Miranda says, her neck muscles rigid. “What are you doing? Hiding away? Turning your back on the rest of the world?”

Tamoanchan's leader bends down so that her face is level with Miranda's. “I am helping to protect these people. Helping to give them a life away from Ferals. Away from raiders.”

“So what are you going to do with us?” Clay asks.

“That's the problem,” Brana says. “You know where Tamoanchan is now. We can't let you leave.” The implication is left hanging.

“Can I talk to you alone?” I pipe up.

Brana frowns at me. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Because I'm the one Diego and Rosie vouched for. I'm the one that led these people here. And ultimately this is all down to me. I think we can hash this out just the two of us.”

She narrows her eyes. “You're the one who took out the raider?”

“That was me,” I say. “And if that bought me anything, I'd like to talk to you alone.”

She scowls, but then she drags me up by my chains and pulls me into a small room at the back of the hall.

“Speak.”

“I just think you should listen to what they have to say.”

Her hands clench at her sides. “They brought . . .
you
brought a Feral to my island.”

“Hey, believe me, I think they're crazy, too.”

“And yet you're here. With them. On their ship. With that thing.”

“Well, yeah. Doesn't mean it isn't crazy. Look, I'm out to survive. I know you are, too. Most of the people that are left, that haven't Faded, they're out to survive, too. Only I've seen a lot of people do a lot of horrible things in the name of survival. Hell, Gastown is what it is because of that. I was there. I saw what happened. Those raiders would come in here and clear you all out, spilling a lot of blood, in the name of survival.”

Her eyes narrow. “What's your point?”

“My point is that Miranda and the others, they aren't just interested in survival. They're interested in stopping the Bug. In reversing it, if possible. And we need people like that. They might not succeed; they may even fail horribly, get infected by the Bug, but at least they're trying. And as long as people like Miranda are around, we have a chance. We have hope.”

“That doesn't change the fact that you have a Feral onboard your ship. Or that I won't allow it into this city.”

“I don't blame you,” I say. “And nobody's expecting you to. But . . .”

“But what?”

I lean in. “A cure might be a ways off. But what if you could test for the Bug? How better to make sure to keep Tamoanchan free of infection than by being able to test for it?”

Her eyes widen. “Your friends can do that?”

“Not yet. But they're close. But they need that Feral to do it. And they need a place to study it. “

“Not in my city.”

“No. Not in the city. But I noticed some other islands nearby. Small islands. Not worth your time. But give the boffins some space and maybe the ability to barter for materials. Let them build a lab there. Let them trade with the city for goods. With the assumption that if they come up with something, they share it.”