Son of Sedonia

48

Stepstones

Weeks later

LIANI FIDGETED WITH her kevlar Press helmet. She wished she would have tried a few more on before stealing this particular one from the GloboMetro field HQ. The pinching straps worked at her frayed nerves as she approached the City-side checkpoint to the Outer Ring. Kilometers of razor-wire fence had been rolled out to form a new Border, thirty meters high, guarded by legions of government troops and patrolling aircraft. Liani glanced up. The Federal command ships hadn’t moved since the ‘Intervention,’ hovering high above Sedonia City with an ever-present hum. Liani felt tiny. Exposed. The Narayana’s supposed to be twelve times the size of one of those... She wondered where it might be.

The Aug-troops at Access Point Charlie each stood taller than an average gigantic human, decked out head to foot in heavy Augmentor rigs. She felt their eyes glaring at her from behind those smooth, blank masks as she walked up to the gate. Thankfully, a regular size officer in a helmet and fatigues seemed to be in charge of clearance, checking a cargo manifest of a ground truck. He waved them through and turned to Liani.

Okay...showtime. Liani threw on her cutest smile and batted eyelashes over her brown, color-corrective contacts.

“Hello,” she said with a sly pitch. She rolled up her sleeve, gulped a lump in her throat, and held out her upturned arm.

“Evening, ma’am,” said the officer as he took her hand and waved a scanner baton over her arm. Concealer cream covered the tiny scar on her smooth skin. He didn’t seem to notice it. This better work... The technician working with Doc Utu had called it a ‘Bounce Chip.’ It would detect the scan, block communication with the main City server, then reroute the query to their server back in Rasalla. New picture, name, date of birth, social security number, current employer, political affiliations, and detailed family history. All of it had to gel, or she’d go away for identity theft. Not a healthy idea in the Post-Intervention world. The scanner beeped, stopping her heart. Liani watched as the officer read through the information on his private Neural display.

“Thank you, Ms. Deckard...Sorry if we make you nervous,” the officer released her hand, “I know it looks like some kind of alien invasion around here.”

Liani laughed, bleeding the pressure.

“Yeah,” she said, “At least they give us a human face to talk to, Officer...?”

“Corporal Schilling...and I gotta say, your face is a sight for sore eyes,” he said with a smile. A loud throat clearing behind her made Liani jump. She whipped around and scowled.

“What?” Corey said, “This thing’s heavy.” He set the blocky gray case down in the dirt then rose to stretch in his white medical Augs. She could kill him all over again. That ‘thing’ happened to be a stolen Hi-Band Broadcast Unit.

“You crew with her?” asked Schilling.

“Obviously,” said Corey. Liani made no secret of punching him in the shoulder...forgetting about the healing gunshot wound there. Corey yelped. The Corporal tensed and rested a casual hand on his sidearm.

“There a problem?” asked Schilling.

“No!” Liani and Corey said in unison.

“I got shot...in the...Whitlatch attack,” said Corey, rolling up his left sleeve. Schilling studied the bandage as he stepped forward with the scan baton. Swept it over Corey’s forearm.

“Heard about that...we should’ve been there. Damn bureaucratic—-wait, says here you live in Shibuya.”

“I do, uh...” said Corey, stumbling, “She lives in Whitlatch...”

The Corporal lowered his head and turned away. He pressed his throat mic. Murmured something. Corey and Liani exchanged looks.

“Okay, you guys are good,” said the Officer, “But if you’re headed into the Hostile Zone, you’ll need to get an escort. Look for Sergeant Yeighman at the border tent, he’ll set you up.”

“Thank you very much, Corporal Schilling,” said Liani sweetly. Corey picked up the case with a grunt and forged ahead, pushing Liani through the open gate.

“Hey!” the Corporal called out, freezing the two of them in their tracks. Shit! Liani turned wearing her best innocent face.

“You guys be safe out there, okay? Media likes to paint Dwellers as ‘just people,’ but they’re desperate people. Desperate people do crazy things.”

“We’ll be careful,” Corey said flatly. They turned and walked briskly toward the rift in the Border. Tanks, armored trucks, and squads of soldiers crowded the central avenue. Through brute force, they occupied the war-torn Outer Ring, pumping power rations into the City like life support. Fenced-in tent villages had also cropped up. The news didn’t have much to say about them. Watching a wounded plant worker get dragged from his tent kicking and screaming, Liani realized why.

They skipped the border tent and Sergeant Yeighman, tagging along instead behind another group of press and their three-man Aug-troop escort. After a quick scan, Corey and Liani were part of the group.

“Okay folks!” shouted one of the soldiers through his mask, “Please walk two-by-two! Please keep between me and my associates at all times! Do not deviate from this little tour of ours...the enemy would be more than happy to get their hands on a couple City reporters! Let’s go!”

Just like that, they walked through the Border. The charred canyon stretched a hundred meters above them on either side. Corey, following suit with the others, snapped pictures rapid-fire.

“Hard to believe...” Corey said.

“No kidding.” Liani looked out over the Slums. Utu had described them to her, but she’d never seen them in person. The rusting towers, the stacked containers, the criss-crossing catwalks and bridges, the shanties in the street...all of it full of hidden people. Few dared show themselves with the Aug-troops around.

“Okay, there it is,” Corey whispered. The road bent ahead. Several alleys, stairwells, and pathways radiated out from it. One path dipped down and out of sight. A blue prayer flag flapped in the breeze, tied to a pipe on the corner.

“Ready?” Corey asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” said Liani. When the convoy turned right, Liani took off her helmet, spilling her red curls over her shoulders. She sucked in a breath. Gunfire erupted from the surrounding buildings. As the soldiers scrambled to react, Liani and Corey bolted for the alley. It changed direction several times inside, forking in ways Liani didn’t remember from the instructions. Behind, a savage thump-whine-thump-whine-thump-whine of military Augmentors bore down on them.

“There!” Liani shouted as she saw another flag dangling from a clothesline. A door beside it opened and a little woman in blue robes leaned out. Waved them in. There were three women in all, old, tiny, and frail. But fast. In a series of deft moves, they slipped jammer-rings on Liani and Corey’s fingers and wrapped the two of them in earth-colored cloaks.

“Come!” said one of the ladies, waddling to another door. She swung it open and shuffled everyone out. The Falari Market. The bustle of evening activity quickly swallowed them up between the tents, stands, and blankets full of items. Liani chanced a backward look. Saw one of her escorts perched on the roof, scanning the crowd. Not finding them.

“We’re good,” said Liani.

“Are we?” asked Corey, “Gonna have a chat later about flirting with Corporals and punching bullet wounds.”

“Crybaby.”

They reached the Temple of the Wheel within the hour, crossing through its round metal gate. Liani loved the place instantly. It was dirty, tarnished, and made from God-knows how many bits of scrap...but the space calmed her. She could see it was built with love. One of the ladies took Liani by the hand.

“Oh! So soft!” the little woman said, “You betta’ tell me your secret!” Liani laughed as she and Corey were led to one of the metal containers. They passed through the hanging bead curtain into a makeshift broadcast room. Wires snaked over the floor like black pasta, hooked up to old-style consoles and monitors. Utu greeted them.

“Fantastic!” he said, “You made it! Did you get what you needed?”

“Right here,” said Corey, panting. He put down the case with a thud and opened it. Illyk stood up from behind a console, cigarette in mouth.

“Perfect, help me hook it up over here to the mem-data ports,” Illyk said. Liani shot the sketchy kid a look that made him cringe. Illyk avoided her eyes as he turned and crossed the room. He had said his men acted alone that night. But he picked the men. She didn’t like trusting him now, but bigger things were moving.

Corey grunted as he lifted the HBBU out of the case and followed. Liani pulled her hood off and ran her fingers through her hair. Her heart still hadn’t calmed down. Utu walked over with a small ceramic bowl of water. Handed it to her.

“You and your friend have done a brave thing, Liani,” said Utu, smiling that smile she’d already learned to love, “We thank you. Would you like me to show you to a bedroll for some rest?” Liani drank deeply from the bowl then withdrew it from her lips. Stared down into the rippling water.

“Thank you,” she said, “But...if he’s ready, I’d like to see him.”

“Of course. This way.”

Utu led her cloaked through streets and alleys to the West. The Slums were rebuilding, little by little. Scorched gouges, collapsed dwellings, and tumbled walls grew new structure, fed and shaped by scores of Dwellers. They sang as they worked. Liani eventually heard the sound of flowing water echo through the neighborhoods. Flowers and incense masked the pungent smell of the Rasalla River as she and Utu walked out onto the concrete-stepped shore.

“There he is,” Utu said, pointing through the crowd. Matteo stood at the water’s edge, cradling something in his hands. Liani followed the Doctor to his side.

“We got it,” she said to Matteo, “Corey should have everything working soon. You sure you want to do this?” Matteo knelt by the muddy water. A metal flower with a small lit candle in its center drifted from his hands, joining a flickering current of flowers. He stood, turned, and looked at her, rubbing his fingers tightly against his palms. After a deep breath, he nodded. Looked back out at the water.

“Thousands of people are about to watch my life...They should know what I think about it,” Matteo said.

“They should, indeed,” said Utu. Matteo shook the nerves out of his arms and squared himself to Liani.

“Okay,” he said. Liani pressed a finger to her temple, calling up her Neural’s camera mode.

“Remember, you’re just talking to me...tell me what you want to say,” she said, framing him in the floating interface. She tapped the record button and held up her hand.

“Okay...five, four, three,” Liani held up two fingers. Then one. Pointed at Matteo. He lowered his head. Took three long breaths into his belly, and looked up into Liani’s eyes.

“My name is Matteo. But I was born Aden Rindal. Son of Alan and Patricia Rindal. I’ve lost family on both sides of the Border. My City mother and father when I was a baby. My Rasalla brother who raised me, to the War. You’re about to see events in my life that...that changed yours. All of ours. And you’re about to see the plans of the people who think they own the world. I won’t tell you what to think about all this. Your life is up to you. But after you’ve seen this story, take a look around. Ask how you’d change things if you could. Then know that you can. I am a Son of Sedonia, from both City and Slums. We’re in this together.”