Trident's Forge (18 page)

All of the homes and buildings in Shambhala had been preprogramed and printed in only the last three years and change, so everything had a certain uniformity that was difficult to shake off. Some occupants did their best to stand out with clever landscaping in their postage-stamp “lawns,” but the vegetation in this part of Gaia was about as varied and inspiring as the utilitarian, straight-angled homes themselves. The Ark's geneticists were far too busy trying to get their grain crops to take root to worry about thawing out any Old Earth topiaries.

But not here on the “Golden Mile.” Here the custom homes of former crewmembers and business moguls sat. The families that had built the exclusive residential towers, restaurants, and luxury goods during the Ark's long journey. And they weren't about to live in the prefabbed hovels of the plebs. Architectural inspiration taken from Rome to Taipei adorned the homes with columns, tile roofs, bay windows, anything to announce the conspicuous consumption that everyone liked to pretend had been left behind on Earth centuries before. The largest of them belonged to the Alexander family. Which was only proper, as they had built the rest of them as well.

Theresa found the house she was looking for. It was the smallest and least adorned on the block, barely up to the standards of the neighborhood, but allowed in almost as a charity. She'd been here once a little over a year ago when, miraculously, she and her husband had been invited to the housewarming party. The walk home that evening had been… muddled. Confident she wasn't about to wake a council member unexpectedly, she rang the doorbell and waited.

After that didn't work, she rang it again, then respectfully pounded on the door.

“I know you're in there,” she said into the com unit in the door frame. “I can see your locator on my plant.”

The door opened slowly, reproachfully. In the dim streetlight, former First Officer Chao Feng glared at her.

“Are you aware what time it is, constable?”

“Painfully aware,” Theresa said. “May I come in for a minute?”

Feng scoffed theatrically. “If this is some sort of booty call, you'll need to grow a cock pretty quick.” He pointed at her chest. “And ditch the tits.”

Theresa grabbed her breasts in mock affront. “What? Everyone loves boobs.”

“Not in this house, honey.” Feng paused. “Although my son is almost ten and is starting to ask some really awkward questions. Maybe you could–”

“Nope. Pass. That's all on you.”

Defeated, Feng opened the door wider and invited her inside. “Can I get you anything? Tea?”

“I'm fine, thanks. So, Jian isn't taking after his old man in the dating department?”

“If his database searches are any indication, it would appear not.”

Feng collapsed onto his antique couch sideways. A
leather
couch, Theresa couldn't help but notice. Even in the dark, the interior of the house betrayed its opulence. It wasn't quite as overt as the first officer's quarters Theresa and Benson had raided for stolen art, but Feng wasn't exactly suffering in exile either.

“Mrs Benson, I have to be to work in a few hours, and I expect it's going to be a
very
hectic few days. So, without wanting to sound rude, but not really caring if I do, what the hell do you want?”

Theresa sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap. “Your help, if you can believe it.”

Feng's relationship to the house of Benson had a strained history. During much of the Edmond Laraby investigation three years earlier, Feng had been a prime suspect.
The
suspect, actually, and her husband had hounded him tirelessly. Ultimately, Feng had been innocent of the murder, but he'd tried to use his power and influence to derail the investigation instead of coming clean about the intimate nature of his relationship with the late Mr Laraby. Feng and Theresa's husband had badly misjudged one another, and it almost came at the price of the entire human race. It wasn't an easy thing to forget.

Feng smoothed out a wrinkle on his velour, monogramed robe. “I can't, but I'm listening all the same.”

“Bryan's in trouble.”

Feng snorted. “You can say that again. If he had any sense, he'd have come home with the shuttle.”

“I think he wanted to, but he's got his nose on a scent, and you know how singleminded he can be.”

“Better than most,” Feng said bitterly before motioning for her to continue.

“Bryan noticed some… fortuitous happenstances leading up to and during the attack.”

Feng sat up at this. “Fortuitous for whom?”

“For the people doing the attacking.”

“Such as?”

Theresa paused, considering just how much she wanted to share. At the moment, all she had were suspicious coincidences. If they were going to be more than that, she'd need information that important people would've taken great care to keep hidden from official channels. That meant cozying up to and ultimately trusting someone who sometimes worked outside of “official” channels. Feng was about as honest as that sort came.

Screw it
, she thought.
Gotta trust someone
. “On their walk into the village, a flight of birds came out of nowhere and disabled Atwood's recon drone, which let a group of the village's warriors get the drop on them and almost started a shooting incident right then.”

“Maybe they were territorial birds.”

“Maybe, but we've been here for three years, and Pathfinder's drones have been flying around for almost four. Have any of them been attacked before?”

Feng pursed his lips. “One of the crawlers was trampled in a broom-head stampede, but we haven't lost any of the fliers to wildlife as far as I can remember. Still, it's a mostly unexplored continent. Maybe we just haven't run into this particular species before.”

“That's possible,” Theresa admitted, “But it's only the first example.”

“Continue,” Feng said, slipping into the tone he used to employ on the Ark's bridge when listening to a report. That was probably good, it meant he was taking the conversation seriously enough to fall into old patterns. Creatures of habit.

“When the attack came three days later, it was perfectly timed with the local satellite coverage gap caused by those two platforms we lost last year.”

Feng sucked air through his teeth. “I hadn't heard that part. That
is
pretty convenient.”

“It gets worse.” Theresa leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. “The only other way to get a signal into orbit was the shuttle's transmitter, and it picked that moment to shit the bed? Er, so to speak.”

Feng smirked. “You don't need to censor yourself here, Theresa. Unless I'm very mistaken, you didn't intend this to be an official visit.”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Well then fuck it. However, your husband was still able to get a signal to the Ark, yes?”

Theresa nodded. “But only because he convinced the villagers to help him wreck the temple they'd built for our rover and use its transmitter instead. I don't think whoever was planning this anticipated that possibility. The Ark crew used the rover to piggyback a signal to the shuttle and remote pilot it. If that hadn't happened, everyone, and I do mean everyone, would've been dead by the time the coverage gap passed. Our first indication anything was wrong would've been orbital pictures of the village after it had been sacked.”

Feng was sitting upright by then, his fingers steepled as he contemplated what he'd heard. “That all sounds very suspicious. One issue I have. If the shuttle's transmitter was sabotaged, it would've had to be one of the flight crew that did it. It's buried pretty deep inside the avionics bay, not the sort of place you could explain how to find to a native who has only recently cracked the mystery of the wheel.”

“True enough,” Theresa said.

“But the whole flight crew was killed, yes? Why would one of the crew members agree to be in on the conspiracy if their reward was a spear point?”

Theresa shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe they weren't told about the spear point. Or maybe the natives got overly enthusiastic. I don't know, I don't even have a working theory yet. I'm just at the point where I see a lot of weird shit that doesn't add up and feel the need to shake it until it falls into place.”

“Sounds like a terrible compulsion to live with.”

“No doubt, but a useful one in my line of work.”

“Too true.” Feng seemed to switch gears. “Why me? Where do I ‘fall into place?'”

“I need a back-channel guy. Official channels have a habit of getting stonewalled as soon as uncomfortable questions start getting asked about important people. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that–”

“Cheeky.”

“–but it's true. I need a go-between that understands the dealings of both the front and back of house. That's you, Feng. You're the very definition of a go-between. You've been holding the unstable alliance of the Ark crew and Shambhala's provisional government together almost singlehandedly for three years already.”

“I'm flattered you noticed.”

“It's my
job
to notice.”

Feng put up a hand. “I understand. But, the thought occurs. Why trust me? Your husband is out in the bush with no backup. If I held a grudge over our previous… unpleasantness, now would be a wonderful opportunity to act on it.”

“A few reasons.” Theresa started counting off with her fingers. “One. You've had plenty of opportunities over the years. Two, you've been very good about keeping up appearances, inviting us to the housewarming, for example.”

“Thank you for the candelabras, by the way,” Feng said. “I don't remember if I sent you a note.”

“You didn't. Three, you didn't act out of malice the last time. Don't get me wrong, you acted stupidly, but you did so to protect your family. I understand that now, maybe better than I did back then.”

“Marriage will do that to you.”

Theresa held up a final finger. “Four, unless I'm very much mistaken, I think it would amuse you greatly to put my husband in the uncomfortable position of owing you a
very
big favor.”

Feng sank back into the white leather of the couch. “Oh dear girl, would it surprise you to hear that thought hadn't occurred to me until just now?” He inhaled sharply through his nose and smiled. “Yes, I would find that very amusing. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow,” Theresa said. “Well, today, I suppose, considering the time. But after I've slept in either case.”

“Fair enough.” Feng stood up and walked her to the door. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the satellite gap. See if you can find a list of database queries for when the gap would fall over Atlantis.”

“A lot of people coordinating the expedition would have perfectly legitimate reasons for that kind of search.”

“True, but while you do that, I'm going to run a search on correspondence to and from the flight crew, then crossreference them manually.”

“Keeping your final list off the grid to avoid setting off any alarms.” Feng nodded approvingly. “Smart.”

“I'm not just a set of tits, Feng.”

“Perhaps
more
than just a set of tits would be more accurate. They are definitely among your assets.”

Theresa rolled her eyes. “Men. There's a repressed little boy hiding inside all of you.”

“I've had more than one repressed little boy inside of me,” Feng countered.

Theresa slapped him on the arm. “Too much information, Feng.” She let her tone become quieter, more serious. “Can I ask you something personal?” He nodded acquiescence. “I've never seen you out with anyone. It's been a while now since… Since your wife passed on, and you seem so lonely.”

Feng shrugged. “I still scratch the itch when needed, but to be honest…” Feng glanced over his shoulder and up the stairs to where Jian slept in his own little bedroom. “My standards are quite a bit higher than they used to be.”

“I understand.”

“No,” Feng shook his head. “You won't until you have your own family. I may have some personal history preventing me from liking Bryan very much, but even I can see you've got a good man in him. Take advantage of it while there's time.”

Theresa found herself holding back sudden tears. She'd tried to take advantage. They both had. After a year of trying, Bryan had finally gone to Dr Russell and learned the awful truth; that his fight with Kimura had cost more than either of them could've imagined.

The revelation had hit her pretty hard, but if she was honest, it appeared to have been even more devastating for Bryan. He'd never said as much openly, but Theresa suspected that Bryan felt like something less than a whole man since learning he couldn't give her a child. She wondered idly how much those feelings of guilt and emasculation had weighed on his decision to stay behind in Atlantis.

Always something to prove, her man.

“Believe me, I'd love to. Goodnight, Mr Feng.”

“Ciao,” he said, and closed the door.

As she walked away, Theresa realized she wasn't sure if he'd meant the salutation, or his name.

A
s ze did every morning
, Kexx rose before the light of dawn. It was a habit passed down from master to apprentice and a point of pride among truth-diggers. Most of the rest of the village was still asleep, waiting for the light of morning to warm their stiff limbs before venturing out in the day.

Waking so early had not come naturally to Kexx in zer youth. In the end, it took five days of zer mentor, Fullo, waking zer with a bucket of cold water so ze knew what “real cold feels like” to finally drive the point home.

There were still days that Kexx awoke bolt upright, clutching zer chest, expecting to be soaking wet. Today was not one of them, somewhat surprisingly. Ze stood and performed zer waking prayers to Cuut and Xis, anointed zerself with the prescribed oils (which also conveniently protected the skin against sunburn) and then donned zer few bits of jewelry and cloth. Zer thoughts flickered to Mei and the other humans, who insisted on covering their bodies with cloth to an absurd degree. Except when they swam in the lake, where a whole different set of rules seemed to apply.

Kexx laughed. They were a strange people, with a lot of strange ideas, but ze had grown fond of them in the short time since Mei's refugees had landed on their shores. And now ze was tasked with working with one to solve a mystery and hopefully avert a war.

At first light, messages from the other villages would flood the signal tower, all of them demanding answers for the attack and satisfaction for their dead. A wave started to build as soon as the announcement went out last night. It would build higher the longer it took Kexx and Benson to find out who was responsible. And if they couldn't, Kexx had no illusions about where that wave would come crashing down instead.

It was a short walk from Kexx's home to the humans' shelter, but ze jogged anyway, partly to loosen up stiff muscles, partly to warm up in the cool air of predawn. The stab wound in Kexx's thigh burned as ze ran, but considering what so many others had suffered, Cuut had shown zer considerable favor.

Kexx walked into the humans' shelter, although “shelter” probably didn't apply anymore. They'd been busy expanding the modest structure for months, adding awnings and lean-tos as the need arose. There were even a couple of outbuildings they used for storage and strange racks they used to farm some of their own small crops they'd brought over on their boat to supplement their rations from the village's supplies. They were very fond of one fungus in particular, something Mei called shitake. They used it in nearly everything and had at least a fullhand of different ways to prepare it, exactly none of which had been to Kexx's liking so far.

The humans, by and large, seemed to handle the morning chill with less hassle than Kexx's people. Several of them were already wide awake and busy preparing their large morning meal. That was something else about the humans: they ate a
lot
. Kexx had watched tiny Mei put down enough food in one sitting to keep zer own belly full for the entire day. And they did it three or four times every day. How they managed not to puff out like a startled hala fish, ze had no idea.

One of them looked up from chopping tubers and nodded a greeting as Kexx passed. Ze'd spent enough time in the shelter to be a common sight.

“Benson?” Kexx asked the young human. Some of them had started to learn G'tel, especially the children. But none of them had yet risen to Mei's proficiency, so it was best to keep things simple. The youth got up and took Kexx's hand without hesitation and tugged zer toward the back of the shelter.

Lying in a hammock sagging near the floor and dangling an arm, Benson snored in blissful oblivion. Zer comfort ended when the young human yanked off zer blanket and poked Benson in the back. Benson jerked awake like a startled dux'ah, tumbled out of the hammock and landed hard on the ground in a pile. The younger human found this immensely entertaining and laughed freely.

Clutching zer head with one hand, Benson grabbed the youth's ankle and growled.

“Coffee. Now,” ze said.

The youth shook zer head. “No coffee.”

Benson moaned. “Tea, then.”

Still giggling, the smaller human headed back for the food prep area. Kexx looked down and offered Benson a hand up.

“I'm fine down here just now, thanks.”

“Benson. We must begin our work.”

Benson sat up slowly, then crossed zer legs and cradled zer head in zer hands. “After my tea.”

“Are you ill?”

“I'm hung over is what I am.”

Kexx grimaced. “Hung over what?”

“Don't you people get hangovers?” Kexx shrugged uncomprehendingly. “How lucky for you. Yes, I'm ill.”

“Our work cannot wait.”

“It will wait until I've drank my tea,” Benson said irritably. “Then I'm all yours.” The youth returned with a steaming hot cup of water with dried leaves floating in it. Benson held out his hand without looking up and gripped the offered cup. Ze held the cup under zer… nose, Mei had called it, and inhaled. “Ah, oolong. That'll do the trick.” Ze swirled the cup around as the water within slowly stained black, then took a long drink.

Kexx waited patiently for zer new companion to finish zer tea. Benson threw zer head back and drained what was left from the cup, then spat the dregs back into the cup.

“Mmm, good stuff.” Benson picked a leaf off of zer tongue and flicked it away. “Wish they had filters, though. Care for a cup?”

“No, it hurts my stomach,” Kexx said. “Benson, I think we should speak my language while we work.”

“Agreed,” Benson answered in G'tel after a slight pause. “Where to first, Kemosabe?”

Kexx stumbled over the last word. “I don't know what that means.”

“Sorry. It's from… actually, I have no idea where it's from. It just means friend from another land, I think.”

Benson rose on shaky legs. Kexx held down a hand to steady zer. Benson took it. “Your hand's freezing,” ze said. “You should warm up by the fire.”

“I'm fine. I think we should start in the forest where I first ran into the intruders.”

Benson shook zer head. “That can wait. The prisoners have been cooling their, whatever the back of your feet are called, for long enough now. We can start sweating them for info.”

“What prisoners?”

Benson looked at zer confused. “The dozen invaders we captured yesterday, remember? Blacked-out skin, disagreeable attitude?”

“The intruders are all dead, Benson.”

Benson stared at zer for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“You killed them,” ze said finally with a bite in zer voice not even Kexx could miss. It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

“They were allowed to kill themselves, Benson, as is their right as defeated warriors.”

Benson threw up zer arms in frustration. “Great!” ze shouted in human. “I'm working with a samurai squid.” Ze took a deep breath. “I'm sorry. That was rude,” ze said, switching back to G'tel.

Kexx didn't know what “samurai squid” meant, but assumed it wasn't intended to be complimentary. “I'm surprised, Benson. You had no reservations about killing yesterday.”

“That was combat. Our lives were in danger.”

“Our lives are still in danger, Ki-mo-sa-bee.” Kexx sounded out the new word to try it on for size. “The gathering happened in our village. The other villages will stain the ground for the deaths of their emissaries. Either with the blood of those responsible…”

“Or the blood of your village,” Benson finished for zer quietly.

Kexx nodded.

“We could have found out a lot quicker if there was someone left to ask,” Benson protested. “Can we at least have a look at the bodies?”

“They are probably being prepared by the elders by now.”

“Prepared for what?”

“Their pyres, of course,” Kexx said as if explaining it to a child. Which, ze supposed, ze was. Benson had only been here for a halfhand of days. The fact ze could speak the language so effectively made it difficult to remember that ze was still a newcomer.

“Where? Show me where.”

“What do you expect to find?”

“No way to know until we get there. Hurry.”

Kexx shrugged. “Follow me.”

With Benson trailing, Kexx reached the small building near the edge of the village where the bodies of the returning were prepared to meet Xis once more. Business for the two elders inside was rather more robust than usual. Outside, two lines of the returning had been carefully laid out on the ground. One line had already gone through the rites, while the others waited patiently for their turn on the table.
Very
patiently.

The lines had no regard for who was who. Kexx recognized two of zer friends lying next to two of the invaders who'd killed them, their skin still cloaked in black. Death had united them all. Benson knelt down to inspect one of the returning that awaited preparation. “I recognize this one.” Ze pointed to the significant hole running through the body's left eye. “I think it's the one I killed outside the temple.”

“With a fishing trident.”

“How did you know that?”

“Words spread.”

“Yeah, well, it was the only thing I could find. Can we get some light out here?”

Kexx grabbed the body's feet and nodded at the door. “Let's take zer inside.”

They ambled with the awkward load through the doorway and into the small preparation room.

“Truth-digger,” Chak looked up from zer work, surprised and annoyed by the interruption. “You can't be here now.”

“You know I can, Chak. We have to inspect this body before you perform the rites.”

“We?” Chak looked past Kexx and saw Benson standing at the other end of the body, holding its arms, and promptly turned bright blue with incandescent rage. Chak pointed an accusing finger at the human. “What is that
defiler
doing here?”

“Defiler?” Benson asked. “That's a little strong, don't you think?”

Chak's finger hadn't budged. “You shattered the Emissary's Sanctuary!”

“'Sanctuary?'” Kexx asked mockingly. “You mean that shoddy dome we built four days ago?”

“And saved your life in the process, if I remember right,” Benson shot back at Chak. Kexx would have preferred to handle it zerself. Benson had proven to be… less than diplomatic since zer arrival in the village.

“And as if that wasn't bad enough, ze threatened an elder in Xis's womb during a birthing ceremony. Namely me!”

That one carried a little more weight.

“Yeah, you've got me there,” Benson said more quietly. “It was a misunderstanding. I'm sorry. Won't happen again.”

“Ze has no right to be in here. I demand ze leaves immediately.”

“Humans were killed in the attack too, Chak. They are back in their village being prepared for their own returns even now.”

“As if Xis would have them!”

Kexx was known throughout the village for zer calm temper and respectful nature, but Chak was testing even zer patience. Zer skin grew darker, its patterns hardening into jagged edges.

“That was ugly, elder, and does not become someone of your position. The humans fought with us. You are alive to prepare our dead because of them, and they have just as much cause to dig for the truth as we do. You will
not
deny them the opportunity.”

“I can and will. You know the rites, Kexx. I have to finish preparing the returning before sunrise. The sky already glows with morning.”

“Then we will be quick, and we will help you finish.”

Chak pointed at Kexx. “
You
will help me finish.” The finger then stabbed back at Benson. “
Ze
will wait outside.”

Kexx bowed and let a soft glow return to zer skin in a conciliatory gesture. “As you wish, elder.”

Without another word, Chak set down zer anointing cloth and stormed out of the room with a huff.

“Quickly,” Kexx said. “Get zer up on the table.”

Benson obliged, then tipped zer head toward the door. “Kind of a hard ass, that one.”

“Ass” was new to Kexx's vocabulary, but the meaning seemed obvious enough in context. “In fairness, you
have
been somewhat disruptive since your arrival, Benson.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I don't doubt it.” Kexx motioned at the body lying on the table in the torch light. “We're here now. What are we doing?”

Benson walked around the body once, stopping here and there to inspect the fingers, a wound, the returning's black coating. Abruptly, ze stopped and stood straight up.

“Well, I have no idea what I'm looking at. I need you to tell me what you see, Kexx.”

“A body?”

“Go deeper. Explain everything you see. Walk me through this like I'm a child.”

Kexx laughed. “I think I can do that.”

“Yes, yes. Laugh it up. But we're on the clock.”

“Clock?”

Benson grimaced. “Time. We're low on time.”

Kexx nodded. Time, humans were obsessed with it, always checking it, labeling it, and cutting it up as if they could take a knife to something they couldn't even hold in their hands. Kexx had trouble with the whole concept. Cuut already defined the year, Varr's passings broke up the year, and Xis's spin punctuated the days. What further divisions were necessary?

Still, Cuut really would rise soon, so ze took to the task, looking over every detail of the corpse and explaining what ze saw to zer new apprentice. “Height and size are on the large side, but normal for a warrior from any of the villages or nomads.”

“Nomads?”

Kexx nodded. “There are tribes in the west and south that never settled in villages. They wander the plains, hunting wild herds.”

“Are they violent?”

Kexx flickered. “Usually not, but in times of drought they have been known to raid our fields and steal from our herds.”