Chapter 30
Outside: a storm.
A world-cracking, sky-breaking, earth-tearing, oceans-falling belter of a storm.
The moment we burst out of the narrow gravel passage below the Institute, it slammed into the speeder, pounding against our little bubble of light as the wind tried to pick us up, drop us down, tip us over.
The vehicle whined in its efforts to stabilise, a power-consumption warning immediately flashing on the dashboard as it battled through the thundering dark.
I could barely see through the mesh, rainwater slicing in faster than the repulsors could clear it, the onboard sensors barely any better as they tried to ping the road, and the road did not respond.
Warning signs flared from every system, but Rencki snarled: “Keep going straight! I will guide you, keep going!”
“Where’s Gebre?” I yelled, as controls slithered and jolted beneath my grasp. “Where’s the other speeder?”
“Te’s right behind us – keep going!”
In the rear display, the glow of the Institute was already fading, swallowed by the darkness of the storm.
Lightning bit across the sky, briefly flashing up the shape of the walls, the curve of the long, sloping cliffs.
The darkness that followed seemed almost deeper, thicker for the absence of the blast. A cross-wind gale at the first junction lifted the speeder a stomach-yanking metric off the ground, the suspension coils shrieking as they struggled to pull us down again, the matted fur on Rencki’s back rippling with magnetic interference.
A crack of thunder briefly echoed through my ears, lightning scouring an afterglow across my eyelids, but Rencki barked: “Keep going!” and I did.
I kept on going.
Then the comms crackled.
Gebre’s voice, distant against the storm, said: “Maw? Are you there?”
“Gebre! I’m here, where are you?”
“Nineteen is still alive, I think. Qe’s still alive. I can hear fighting, I can hear—”
“Gebre – get to the other speeder! Get out of there!”
Nothing. I hammered the comms with my fist even as the storm buffeted us side to side, a plume of water flaring behind us as we slithered and slipped along the burned-out road.
I thought I caught a glimpse – just a glimpse, just for a moment – of a light up ahead, and then realised it was Lhonoja, peeking between the endless black clouds.
Then even that light was snuffed out, and I howled and smashed my fist against the console and nearly lost control, swerving violently before I could bring the vehicle back into a steady line.
Then the comms pinged again.
“Gebre?!”
Not Gebre.
A man’s voice, low and steady. He spoke Normspeak with a thick Mdo-sa accent, and I could hear the faint drone of his translator unit working in the background, struggling to turn a poorly spoken language into an even poorer translation of Adjumiri.
“Bring it back,” he said. “Bring it back, and I’ll let them live.”
Behind me, Rencki issued a warning growl.
I wondered how much charge qe had, how much power qe had spent on firing qis tails, how much damage qis batteries had taken.
Whether qe would shoot me to get the little white box with its little metal treasures off this world.
I slowed to a crawl, to a stop, the speeder tilting in the twists of raging wind spinning across the road.
“I know you can hear me,” the voice continued. “All we want is the interface, and you can go.”
“Gebre?” I whispered, not having breath to make a larger sound.
“I’m here, Maw,” te replied in Adjumiri, ter voice low across the comms.
“You all right?”
“Nineteen is dead. There’s a man here with a gun. I think this is probably it, you know.”
“I’m coming back.”
“You are not!” te barked, the sudden rise in ter voice popping through the speaker as it hastened to adapt. Then, softer: “You are not. You are not coming back.”
“I’ll kill them!” barked the man on the other end of the line. “I’ll fucking kill them!”
“Maw, listen to me.” Gebre spoke low and fast, trying to outpace the soldier’s translator box.
“What you are carrying matters more – so much more – makes a difference, has meaning. We are the seeds of the forest, we blaze so bright, no life is special. No life is special. No life is special and all of them are. No love matters more than any other, no story is more important, nothing matters more, nothing matters less, so choose, choose, we choose every day to be more than just ourselves, to live for more than just ourselves, because it is beautiful. If you come back, I will never forgive you, do you understand? I will never forgive you, it will be the single greatest—”
“I’ll kill them! I’ll fucking kill them, do you hear me, I’ll fucking kill them!!”
“Billions of stories, billions of loves, so many people love so potently, our song sung in the stars long after we are gone, and just because you cannot feel it does not make it any less true. If you love me, you will love me for what I lived for, for what I lived for, you will love me for who I am and you will—”
“brING IT BACK OR I’LL—”
The line went dead.
I didn’t know why.
Later, I realised it was Rencki.
Without the benefit of an interface, qe had to remotely block the signal, and that took time. Time enough to hear ter voice. I hated qim when I understood what qe had done, then I didn’t, when I thought about it a little more. Realised there was a kind of mercy in it.
In the moment, of course, I thought of everything else.
I thought of guns being fired, of death, of hope, of every imaginable possibility.
Perhaps Gebre had grabbed a weapon, perhaps Nineteen was still alive, or Ngurta, perhaps rescue, perhaps death.
Perhaps the storm had severed comms, perhaps the Institute had come crashing down, perhaps the end of the world was here a few days early, the stars had died and the skies had fallen and the Slow had got qis timings wrong.
Perhaps even now I would turn my face upwards and see the clouds burning away, and just the Lovers shining one last time, before their light went out for ever.
Thinking so many thoughts, I couldn’t really think of anything at all, and slammed my fist into the console and screamed, Gebre, Gebre, Gebre!
“We have to go,” Rencki said.
“No!”
“Mawukana na-Vdnaze! We have to go.”
Silence on the comms; the end of the world outside. I could feel Rencki at my back, tails twitching, feel my thumb hovering over the ignition, ready to turn around, my heart racing and breath dancing in and out through cracked lips.
In the stories of the Shine, at this point I would turn. The Shine has a lot of stories about heroes going back for their loved ones, to save a single soul who mattered more than the many. Anyone who did not clearly did not love appropriately. It is unforgivable to choose anything but love.
In the tales of the Xi, things would be a little more nuanced.
Perhaps I turn around, but then I would die in the attempt, falling tragically into the arms of my beloved to the rattle of funeral clackers.
The Xi have a long tradition of puppet shows with a sentimental bent and strict narrative forms, and at my death I would drone-sing my final words in sixteen-syllable verse, and maybe some onlookers would cry.
On Adjumir, there is only one ending. With the storm at your back and the stars in front of you, you keep going.
You keep going.
For those who lived; for those who died. For those who fled; for those who stayed behind. For those who sacrificed everything so others might live; for those who are waiting for you and the songs you carry, far out into the dark.
You always keep on going.
May your song be sung in the great forest, the numberless would sing. May we meet again in starlight.
I am a monster, made from darkness.
I am the ghost of Hasha-to.
I thumbed the engine back on, and I drove away.