For the Love of Gelo! (18 page)

T
he next day, the forest opened onto a wide and misty plain. Several kilometers ahead of us, a towering mass began to resolve itself through the murk.

“That is great Hykaro Roost,” said Eyf with awe in her voice. “I always, always, always hoped I would see it.”

As we approached, we saw signs of civilization. The shattered remnants of a road snaking through the grass. The burned-out shell of some vehicle covered in weeds. The warped, half-melted girders of long-destroyed buildings. The place reminded me of the Xotonian ruins of Flowing-Stone.

“You ever get the feeling you're being watched?” asked Little Gus as he stared back the way we had come. The fog was too thick for us to see more than ten meters in any direction.

Directly afterward, we nearly bumped into a group of purple-and-gold-feathered Aeaki. They were Uji—the ancient enemies (and occasional allies) of the Oru—on a pilgrimage to Hykaro to trade with the other clans. The Uji hopped and squawked and squinted at us—at Eyf most of all—and fingered their energy blasters.

“What clan are you?” they asked her.

“No clan,” whispered Eyf.

The Uji gave each other sidelong glances. But they didn't attempt to hinder our passage. Even Taius the Vorem was met with nothing more than dirty looks.

“Good thing we are close to the city,” said Eyf after we passed them. “By custom, the Aeaki are forbidden to fight with one another at Hykaro Roost. The clans from all over Kyral send traders here.”

Soon we saw more Aeaki swooping through the mist, three or four at a time. Some had the telltale drab feathers of males. Most were female warriors with blazing plumage in every color combination. They represented dozens of clans for which Eyf didn't know the names.

The day wore on, and the fog parted. We saw Hykaro Roost clearly at last. It was a massive city, thousands of skyscrapers all jumbled together.

“It's like New York times Hong Kong,” said Nicki, shaking her head in awe. “Or it was.”

Big chunks of the buildings had crumbled, leaving them open to the elements. Some had fallen in on themselves. But their superstructure remained. Hundreds of meters off the ground, these ruins were connected by a web of rope bridges and makeshift wooden platforms. Above us, dark specks flitted among them: more Aeaki.

My is'pog was racing. Somewhere in this great ruined city, we would find Kalac, Ornim, and Chayl.

“My originator is here. I know it,” I said, turning to face the others. “I want to thank all of you.”

“You didn't have to come here and risk your lives yet again,” I said to Nicki, Becky, Hollins, and Little Gus. “But I'm glad you did. Now I know the pain you must feel every day, how much you must miss your own parents.”

“We'll get back to them,” said Hollins with a catch in his throat. “But let's worry about finding Kalac and the others first.”

I turned to Eyf. “We never would have made it here from Oru without your help. Thank you.”

“You know, I think I wanted to help someone for a very, very, very long time,” said Eyf. “You finally gave me the chance.”

“Thank you too, Taius,” I said, “You did more than your share. We couldn't have done it without you either.”

He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he just nodded. His purple skin was slick with sweat. Perhaps he was still feeling some residual effects of the creeping sleem's poison.

I turned back toward the ruined metropolis. “Now where do we start looking?” I asked. Locating Kalac in this place would be like finding a tilvri in a yehl'nerm stack.

“First we must visit the Midden,” said Eyf. “To make an offering to the gods for good luck.”

“Let's go,” I said. “We'll need all the luck we can get.”

We had the streets of Hykaro to ourselves as we walked. There were wide boulevards of grass—sometimes grown taller than Hollins—between the crumbling skyscrapers. Above us, the fog burned off to reveal a clear violet sky. Eyf soared among the buildings. Every few blocks, Taius fiddled with his zowul. The rest of us hacked our way through the weeds.

Abruptly, the ground ahead ended. Stretching out into the distance was a vast pit, a dozen meters deep but bigger than all of Core-of-Rock. It was filled with garbage.

“The Midden,” announced Eyf dramatically as she landed on the edge of it.

“It's, uh, beautiful?” said Nicki.

“If filling up landfills with trash is what pleases the gods,” said Little Gus, “the human race is crushing it.”

“Not trash,” said Eyf. “It is all things from the time before the burning. Before the Vorem ones.”

I looked again. She was right. Down in the Midden, I saw sleek metal vehicles and computer screens and furniture and even kitchen utensils. They were objects that had, against all odds, survived the Vorem attack. These things were the products of thousands of years of artistic and technological advancement—now useless on Kyral.

“Every Aeaki must bring something here,” said Eyf as she carefully removed her little necklace of nuts and bolts. Then she threw it as hard as she could down into the pit. It landed without a sound. Eyf closed her eyes and bowed her head for a moment of silence.

“Are they paying their respects too?” asked Nicki. She pointed to a group of Aeaki—several different clans, by their feathers—standing out in the Midden. They seemed to be picking through the offerings.

“I do not know,” said Eyf, noticing them for the first time. “The Midden is a very, very, very sacred place. Once something goes in, it is never taken out. All Aeaki know this. It is very odd that they would be there.”

“We need to go,” said Taius suddenly, startling us. He was clutching the zowul, and his eyes were darting wildly from empty window to empty window in the buildings around us. “This way,” he said, pointing. It was the first he'd spoken all day.

“What?” asked Nicki. “Where are we going?”

“I'm picking up Xotonian life signs,” said Taius, indicating the tracker. “But they're faint. . . . It might be your originator.”

We followed him through the grassy streets of Hykaro Roost.

“In here,” said Taius. “Hurry!”

He'd stopped at the doorway of a low, ruined building, only a few stories tall. Inside was a crumbling corridor, as dark as night. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust.

“Follow me. We're close now,” he said, and he waved us inside.

The corridor led to a vast indoor space lit by glancing sunlight. It was a bowl-shaped room that sloped downward in the middle. Trees, probably hundreds of years old, grew skyward through the ragged holes in the roof. Three other corridors, just like the one we had used, also led to this room.

“It was a theater,” said Nicki, shining her flashlight around. She was right. I could imagine rows of seats where weeds now grew.

“Look!” cried Hollins.

At the bottom of the bowl—the area that must have once been the stage—I saw a shape slumped on the ground in a pool of sunlight. It was a Xotonian, facing away from us.

“Kalac?” I cried. The Xotonian squirmed a little, but there was no response.

“Something's not right,” whispered Nicki.

I barely heard her. I was already racing toward the figure.

“Chorkle, wait!” Becky cried behind me. I didn't look back.

I reached the Xotonian and placed a thol'graz on its back. It turned toward me, and I could see that it was Chayl. But there was something across its gul'orp, a glossy black band. Chayl's five eyes frantically pointed back the way I had come.

“Chayl, are you hurt?” I said. “Where's Kalac?”

Chayl shifted a little and made a muffled murmur. It couldn't speak. I tried to remove the band around its gul'orp, and that's when I saw the manacles. All four thol'grazes and both its fel'grazes had been restrained with heavy chains.

“Now!” shrieked Taius. I turned. For some reason, he was holding the zowul up to his mouth.

From each of the four corridors burst two armored Vorem legionaries, pointing blaster rifles at us. We were completely surrounded.

“What's happening?” I asked.

“I'm sorry,” said Taius. He closed his eyes and dropped the Vorem tracker.

I realized then that the zowul was not only a tracker; it was also a communicator. We'd been led into a trap.

T
here was a burst of green light. Hollins fired on one of the legionaries who blocked the corridor from which we had come. The Vorem tumbled backward in a shower of sparks—hit in the shoulder. His partner growled something and returned fire. Bolts of red energy whizzed Hollins's way. He narrowly managed to duck behind one of the trees growing through the floor of the theater.

“Don't kill them,” screamed Taius. “Take them alive! They—”

He never got to finish the sentence. Becky's fist smashed into Taius's mouth, and he crumpled backward. Two legionaries rushed forward and tried to pull her off him.

Eyf screeched in terror. The other legionary guarding the nearest corridor went down, the leg of his armor smoking where Hollins had shot him. “Go!” screamed Hollins, but he couldn't move without getting hit. He was pinned down by the hail of energy blasts from the others. The rest of the Vorem were all firing now. I saw Eyf flapping up toward the holes in the roof as red blasts cut through the air all around her.

Little Gus, Nicki, and I ran for it. We leaped over the two wounded legionaries and raced back down the darkened corridor. I heard heavy footsteps behind us.

We burst out into the grass and daylight. The languid, sunny day outside was completely indifferent to the fight in the theater. Perched in the windows of the nearby buildings were several Aeaki.

“Help!” cried Nicki. “Help us!” A few looked around uncomfortably, but they didn't move.

“Come on!” I cried. “Don't stop!”

The tall grass whipped at us as we ran. Nicki was in the lead, followed by Little Gus and me. I looked back to see two Vorem behind us. They were gaining on us.

Up ahead, Nicki skidded to a halt. Two more legionaries leaped out of the grass in front of her, blasters at the ready. She froze, then slowly she put her hands up and knelt on the ground. Somewhere nearby I heard a roar. It seemed familiar somehow.

“I knew we were being followed,” said Little Gus. But he didn't mean the Vorem.

A massive blue shape launched out of the weeds. It smashed the two Vorem ahead of us right off their feet.

“Piiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzaaaaaaaaaa!” howled Little Gus in triumph.

Nicki looked up to see the thyss-cat wrestling with the legionaries on the ground. Pizza had the armored calf of one of them locked in his jaws. He clawed the other with all six of his legs. Both of the unlucky Vorem were screaming in fear and struggling to get away.

Nicki jumped to her feet and dove into the weeds. Gus ran after her. I followed, but I immediately lost them. I stumbled blindly through the tall grass now. I could hear someone behind me—running, breathing—but I couldn't see who it was. Was it Hollins or Becky or a Vorem legionary ready to blow a hole in my back?

I came to a clearing—an old patch of asphalt that hadn't crumbled to pieces. A red blast of energy knocked a smoking crater in the ground beside me. A legionary stepped out of the grass in front of me, and I stumbled backward. I nearly bumped into another behind me. Two more emerged from the brush. Now I was surrounded. Four Vorem legionaries—each with a rifle trained on me—advanced with military precision. There was nowhere to go. I froze.

“What have we here?” said a familiar voice, cold and arrogant.

General Ridian strode into the clearing. He wore the same massive, insectoid black armor that I had seen before, but now he held his helmet under one arm. He looked like an older version of Taius, with harder, sharper features. He wore a close-cropped beard on his jaw, and his black hair was graying a bit.

Ridian squinted at me. Then he laughed. It was about as happy as the sound of bones breaking. “I know you,” he said. “You're the little Xotonian who talked to me on the view-screen. As I recall, you weren't very
polite
.”

He turned to the legionaries and gave a nod. They cocked their weapons.

“Father!” there came a cry. “Don't kill that one!” Taius stumbled into the clearing. Amber-colored blood trickled from his lip, and one of his eyes was ringed with a dark bruise. Good, I thought, Becky must have gotten at least one more good shot in.

Ridian turned toward his son. “Taius,” he said. “I see you survived.” It was a simple statement of fact. There was no emotion in his voice.

“Yes, Fa—General,” said Taius. He gave an awkward salute.

Ridian snorted. “Where is your armor?” he asked.

“I—I had to leave it,” said Taius. “On the asteroid.”

“That suit was
priceless
,” hissed Ridian. “It has been passed down in our family for generations. It was worth more than your life.”

“Leaving it was the only way for me to survive, sir,” said Taius, “to keep up the fight.” His face remained expressionless, but I thought I heard something crack in his voice. He didn't make eye contact with me.

“Your survival was not my top priority. Victory was,” said Ridian. “You lost the battle on Gelo. You humiliated your name. My name. You were defeated by a pack of”—he gestured toward me with contempt—“
these
things. The considerate move would have been to die.”

“I lost,” admitted Taius, “but I will redeem my reputation as a legate.”

“That will be very difficult,” said Ridian, “since you are not a legate anymore.”

“But now you have the humans and this Xotonian as prisoners,” said Taius, “thanks to me.”

“You led a bunch of children into a trap,” scoffed Ridian. “Capturing them is barely worth the effort.”

“That one is the offspring of the Xotonian leader!” cried Taius.

Ridian glanced at me. Then back to Taius. “Hmm. Finally, you've provided me with a reason not to have you executed for gross incompetence,” he said. “Still, you must give me your badge.” Ridian held out a black-gloved hand.

Taius hesitated. Then he reached into his uniform and pulled out the gold legate's insignia and placed it in his father's palm. General Ridian regarded it for a moment. Then he crushed it.

“You have no rank,” said Ridian. “You're nothing now. Get out of my sight.”

Taius said nothing. He merely bowed his head and left.

“Now,” said Ridian, turning to me, “back to you. Offspring of the Xotonian leader, eh?”

“Where is Kalac?” I asked.

“Kalac is staying on the top floor of my
palace
,” said Ridian with a chuckle. He gestured toward a massive skyscraper of broken black glass—towering ominously above its neighbors—a few kilometers away. “We are becoming very close friends, Kalac and I.”

“Huh. What do you two talk about?” I was quickly formulating a plan, and I needed to keep him preoccupied. “Sports? The weather? That time we kicked your butt and totally embarrassed your whole stupid space empire?”

“No,” snapped Ridian. “We talk about the Q-sik!”

“Oh,” I said, one thol'graz slowly creeping behind my back. “You mean that thing you totally failed to get? Sorry about that. Seems like you spent
your whole life
looking for it. And then to completely
blow it
at the last second? That's got to sting, right?”

“I will have the Q-sik yet,” snarled Ridian.

“If you just let me speak to Kalac,” I said, “maybe we can work something out.”

“You know,” said Ridian stroking his chin with an amused look on his face, “that's not a bad idea.” He held up something toward me—another zowul, identical to Taius's—and punched something into it.

“Say hello to your ‘originator,'” said Ridian, turning the screen to show me. On it, I saw Kalac. It was wrapped in black chains, bruises on its face. Its eyes were only open halfway. Despite my best efforts, I started to cry.

“Chorkle?” said Kalac, alarm and confusion growing on its face. “What are you doing here?” Its voice sounded small and weak.

“Kalac, are you all right?” I cried.

“Chorkle, I—”

The screen went black. “That's enough for now,” said Ridian, pocketing the device.

“No, please!” I cried.

“You have served your purpose,” said Ridian. “Now that Kalac knows you are my prisoner, it will give up the Q-sik.”

It took everything I had to control the emotion in my voice. “Sounds like a foolproof plan,” I said. “Tell me, how did your last plan work out?”

“That was not my fault!” roared Ridian, suddenly enraged. “My son is a weakling and an idiot! He squandered our every advantage! We should have won! Taius was defeated, not me!”

Ridian continued to bellow excuses, flecks of foam spraying from his mouth. It was now or never. Inside my pack, I reached for the Q-sik. Though Great Jalasu Jhuk itself had warned that the device always brought destruction to its user, I had no choice. I couldn't allow myself to be captured and the weapon to fall into Ridian's hands. I would fire it once. A blast on its minimum power setting would disintegrate Ridian and the legionaries. . . .

My thol'graz fumbled around inside the pack. My is'pog sank.

The Q-sik wasn't there.

Ridian cocked his head midtantrum, suddenly aware of me once more. “Reaching for something? A weapon, perhaps?” he asked.

I was utterly speechless. My mind was numb.

“Brave,” said Ridian, stroking his chin, “but not smart.”

A Vorem rifle butt smashed into my face. All was black.