45. FORTY-FIVE #3
Then, behind the line of dots on the rise, a fire—like a second sun—blossomed in the sky. A deep charcoal cloud swelled around it, chased by a deafening pop that seemed to split the world. Screams sounded from the warehouse beneath them.
On instinct, Calver hit the roof. Dex and Niklaus followed suit. But Calver’s grip on his headspace fell back into place. That explosion had been behind the Red Wing’s lines. Behind—not among. He was back on his feet, scanning the rise.
The Groundling line held strong, marching into the city. Something bubbled in his stomach.
They still had a chance.
He nearly reclaimed his headspace, purely by accident, before he restrained himself. Cul’Mon couldn’t come here yet. Not until Dex and Niklaus were gone with any they had rescued.
“We didn’t lose anyone.” Niklaus’s mouth hung open before he repeated himself. “They detonated from beyond the line. We didn’t lose anyone!”
Calver sat still as Niklaus and Dex threw their arms into the air and thumped each other on the back.
There were tears in Dex’s eyes. “That’s some real fucking luck.”
Calver refused to believe this could be chalked up to a genuine miracle.
But what had happened? An unknown Tera’thian failure?
There was another part at play here. Ally or not, it was troublesome not knowing.
Raimee wouldn’t have done anything with the plates.
She’d expected him to disable the Tera’thian activator.
Unless Mastico had had a change of heart, they had an unknown ally.
“Quick,” Dex said. “We can marvel later. Let’s move!”
Niklaus pulled the warehouse door open and gave them each a peculiar look. “Gentlemen, time not allotting for what the moment requires, I just want to say—”
“Shut up, Meyernes. We’re coming back. You’ll need at least one of us to vouch for you, so you don’t face internment.” Dex pummeled the dishwasher with a hug.
Calver hung back, a strange emotion muted behind the Survivor’s wall. He nodded to Niklaus, who grimaced. “Good luck.”
The enclosed stairwell was a rickety metal thing, rusted with age. Calver and Dex trailed down, step by cautious step, knowing anything would echo into the space below. They stopped just before it bottomed out onto the catwalk around the building’s perimeter, where they would be visible.
Calver shifted.
The Azadonian gave him a scrutinizing look. A long moment filled the space between them, but they’d run out of long moments to spare.
Calver signaled.
Dex’s hand fell on his shoulder.
The instinct to jerk away remained, but it had slowed. Calver’s throat tightened. How strange it was, the way his life had changed.
Dex yanked at the string around his neck, breaking it free. He set the bead on a stair, positioned the steel handle of the dowaga over it, and rammed it down.
One by one, the lamps in the room beyond blinked out. A blanket of twilight settled over the warehouse floor.
ATTILATIA
Attilatia rolled the bead on her bracelet between her fingers as she sat at her desk for the nightly shift. Her eyes darted to the setting sun, its warm glow flitting through the skylights to mingle with the gleam of Aetech lamps of the workfloor.
Any moment now…
She deactivated the lamp on her desk so she could comfortably remove her oculars. It flickered out at her touch. And then the light on the desk beside it. And the next. And the sconced lamps lining the room.
Right on cue, Dexe.
Without the whirr of the lamps and machinery powering the desalinator, everything fell into a liminal state of quiet.
Even though Attilatia had anticipated the shut-down, it didn’t quell the tingling of her spine.
Everything would be different now. This would turn Skywalk society on its head.
And she was going to have to explain herself… better than the alternative.
She closed her eyes and counted until three minutes had gone by.
One bead to stop the flow of energy from Aetech’s stratum. Another to restore it.
She set her bracelet beneath the leg of her chair and sat. A subtle pop was the only indicator anything had transpired. Seconds passed by, during which Attilatia’s heart stood still. Nothing happened. She looked over the workfloor, waiting, heart beating in her stomach.
The cores began to spin, picking up speed until they lit the room and hummed along like nothing had happened. Body shaking, Attilatia sighed and returned to her feet. Someone would come to investigate soon—and she was nearly sure who that someone would be. Best to look busy.
She moved for the desalination plant on Aetech’s far side, where it fed into the aqueducts. The moment she arrived, a door behind her swung open, slamming into the wall.
Hashod had never had a talent for cloaking his temper. Now, he wore it like it was Pazirian silk.
“What the fate-fraggled fuck just happened?”
Attilatia kept her face placid as she sampled the water pumping in through the aqueducts. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
“Nothing for me to… the infrastructure for the entire Skywalk just fell to kretch!” He was practically frothing at the mouth. “People are saying we’re under attack! That we’ve shut down! How did it happen?”
“I fixed it, didn’t I?”
She prepared herself for the hit. Hashod’s temper never flared without its violent sidekick.
His fists clenched and unclenched. “And what do you expect me to tell our board members? Our stakeholders? An oligarchy who has invested indefinite funds into technology that will guarantee their authority?”
“Whatever you want,” she huffed. “Is that no what you already do?”