Dying World Page 7

  The entire Sek mountain range, one of the largest in the world, was being ripped free of our world like so much dust.

  As I watched, as the tram sped along, the phenomenon spread. Smaller mountains, then foothills, and finally neighboring fields were torn from our world and sucked into the sky, just as the armored had warned.

  Even inside the tram I could hear the awful noise, like the universe being torn in half. The wave of destruction rolled across the field, racing ever closer to the monorail as it obliterated everything in its path.

  I backed into the tram’s far wall, not that it would do any good. The unraveling burst upon us, and the monorail came apart in a screech of tortured metal. I was flung into the ceiling, then dashed into the floor, then into a window, which cracked but miraculously held.

  It afforded a perfect view of the chaos around me. I watched helplessly as people, tram cars, the monorail, and the land beneath it all were violently hurled into the sky.

  Then a hunk of monorail slammed into my tram car, and it exploded, tossing me into the storm of death, and up towards space.

  10

  I tumbled end over end, bouncing off debris and doing my best not to be crushed by the larger pieces of what had been a sprawling city just a few minutes ago. Up and up I went, thrust into the sky as gravity reversed on itself.

  As I twisted around I saw where we were going…straight into the sun. Every bit of that debris had been torn loose by its much stronger gravity field. And I was part of that debris.

  I spun back around, and my heart thundered when I saw how high I already was. I was out of the lower atmosphere, and it had happened in less than a minute. How fast was I going?

  “It can’t end like this.” I held back a sob, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to impress. I gave in to panic for a good thirty seconds as the world fell further and further away from me.

  My father’s voice thundered in my head. Survive. Find a way. Focus on what you can do.

  So I did.

  “Okay,” I muttered, wincing as I ricocheted off of a mail kiosk. “What can I control?”

  The armor had surprised me time and again. Now my fate rested entirely in its figurative hands. If it had a miracle, maybe I could save myself. If not, well, at least I’d have an enjoyable view as I fell into the freaking sun.

  When I’d needed a helmet I’d thought about it, and gotten one. You know what I needed right now? Thrusters. Or wings. Or something. I thought hard about momentum, and about getting back to the planet.

  An intelligence answered within the armor, and seemed to be reaching for something in me. The only thing it could want was magic, so I fed it a sliver of dream. A discordant chime sounded in the helmet.

  “Okay, wrong magic. Please don’t tell me you need void, because I don’t have it.” I closed my eyes, and offered the only other type of magic I had. Fire.

  A more friendly chime played, and the suit drew deeply from my magical reserves. A moment later flame burst from both boots and from both palms.

  I’d like to tell you I gracefully assumed control, but, uh, it didn’t really go down like that.

  I cartwheeled wildly out of control, spinning first one way, and then another as I struggled in vain to control the thrust coming from all four of my limbs at the same time. It turns out that flying spellarmor is not a skill I possess. Who knew?

  After a lot of fumbling I managed to dodge over a piece of concrete that looked like it had come from a monorail pylon, then fired a quick thrust from the right foot in an attempt to stabilize my flight.

  It actually worked!

  I flew in a more or less straight line for an entire three meters, right up until I slammed into another tram car. The window cracked, but held. This car actually held people, but even as I called out to them I realized it was too late.

  The passengers stared sightlessly ahead, dead of suffocation, or maybe exposure. But dead all the same.

  I wasn’t going to end up the same way.

  I focused on flying, and kept practicing little bursts to get around hunks of debris. Instead of flying back to the planet I was trying to work my way to the outer edge of the cyclone streaming up from the surface.

  Many harrowing minutes later I finally did exactly that, but by that time I reached the edge I’d left the atmosphere entirely. The planet lay below me, a spray of rock rising like droplets of water leaking from the sector’s largest balloon.

  Seeing it from this vantage was terrifying, and made it clear that the entire planet was in trouble. Several smaller leaks had appeared, all on the northern continent, the side closest to the sun.

  I pressed my arms to my sides and dove toward the planet, pouring as much fire magic into the armor as I could muster. The armor picked up speed, and meter by agonizing meter I pulled myself closer.

  The further I got from the debris field the easier flying became, and eventually the planet’s gravity grabbed hold of me and started pulling me in. Apparently whatever the anomaly was it was localized to one area. If I could stay clear of that funnel I could make it back down.

  I studied the affected part of the planet as I flew closer, and was relieved to see that the edge of the destruction stopped several hundred kilometers from dad’s flop, and from the academy. He and Briff were okay for the moment, certainly in a less precarious position than I was.

  I fed more fire to the armor, which was already becoming a strain. Fire seemed wrong somehow, like it wasn’t perfectly suited to the job and the armor was making do. Maybe that made the process more expensive, but whatever the reason I was running out of juice. Fast.

  I pushed harder, and it started to burn. Literally. My shirt burst into flames over the heart as the suit eagerly drank the magic I fed it. The suit inched closer and closer to the planet until, suddenly, almost gently, we were seized by its gravity well and pulled down.

  “WooHOO!” I bellowed, wrapping my arms tight against my body as the armor began re-entry. Somehow it looked like I might actually survive this.

  The armor began to redden as we skimmed through the atmosphere, and the internal temperature rose to uncomfortable levels. Thankfully, one of the benefits of possessing fire magic is natural resistance to heat. What would cook a normal person kept me toasty warm as we descended.

  Then, just like that, I was in free fall. Wind buffeted me about, but my momentum sliced through billowing clouds as I tumbled back toward Kemet.

  Before long I could pick out cities, and used the thrusters to angle my flight closer to the stacks where my dad lived, which lay uncomfortably close to the flow of rock still streaming from the planet. I suspected that meant my dad’s flop would be in the next area to go, and after that the academy itself.

  I had to get him out. I mean, assuming I survived a fall from orbit.

  My dilemma was now becoming clear. I was falling at terminal velocity toward my destination, and I’d used most of my magic making it this far. I could probably slow my momentum some as I got closer, but there was no way I was going to be able to stop myself.

  I needed a soft landing. A liquid landing, ideally.

  Unfortunately, there were no lakes within ten kilos of the sprawl around my dad’s flop. There was, however, a sewage treatment plant no more than three clicks away. I grew up downwind of the smell, which taught me all about nausea.

  I gave a heavy sigh as I stared down at the green speck that I guessed would be my probable destination. If this didn’t work it would be an ignoble end. If it did work I would never get the armor clean again. But at least I’d be alive.

  I pinned my arms to my sides, which was easier since I’d gotten stronger. I held them there, locking my elbows and angling the thrust downward.

  Reaching deep was an understatement. As the city spun up at me, the flopstacks grasping at the sky like misshapen fingers, I poured everything I had into the armor.

  Every bit of fire I could muster roared from my chest in a torrent of magical flame, washing into the armor and out th
e thrusters. But the armor was damned heavy, and inertia is one hell of a thing.

  The flame from my hands and feet went blue, then white. The armor began to slow, but the lake of mucus-yellow sludge was rushing up at me far too quickly for me to stop.

  “Oh, depths,” I gasped, pushing even harder. If I came down too fast it wouldn’t matter that I was hitting liquid. I’d still break every bone in my body.

  The flow of magic intensified, and I reached deeper than I ever had, past the skin to the root of the magic itself. I’d always known that was possible, but I’d never been in a desperate enough situation to battle past the pain it caused.

  Something cracked open inside me, and a fresh river of flame poured into the armor. An answering chime came, and I shifted my focus from the pool of sludge to the paper doll in the corner of my HUD.

  The trident icon was now lit, and I assume that’s what the chime had been telling me.

  I didn’t have time to study it, and turned my attention back to maintaining thrust. I was slowing, but not nearly enough.

  I slammed into the sludge in a tremendous geyser, and blackness took me as my head smacked into the helmet.

  Interlude II

  Jolene waved a hand over her holodesk, one of the final models created before her exodus. The glassy surface shimmered, and the illusion tilted upwards slightly for ease of viewing.

  The background was a sea of glittering stars, with the Erkadi Rift spinning slowly in the distance. She found its vibrant green clouds alluring, and they were a reminder that the Krox lurked within, now led by Frit. That made them enemies, as much as the Confederacy.

  A missive, the spell equivalent of a comm call, blinked into existence on the center of the screen. She tapped the icon, a ghostly figure whispering into an ear, and Minister Ramachan’s tired face filled the screen.

  “Ah, Minister, what an unexpected pleasure.” Jolene delivered her best smile, which wasn’t hard given how much she was enjoying her imminent triumph. “Were there some final details to discuss before I depart the system?”

  Ramachan’s bloodless face stared back at Jolene, devoid of all humor and all compromise. She fixed Jolene with a martial stare, the kind befitting the leader of a mercenary world.

  “You already know.” Ramachan extended an accusatory finger, and her hand trembled as she stabbed it in Jolene’s direction. “This whole thing was a ruse, wasn’t it? A way to steal the fleet.”

  “Minister, this is hardly fair.” Jolene leaned back in her chair, and adopted a reproving expression. “You haven’t told me what this is in regards to. I understand my people have a somewhat deserved reputation for being canny trade partners, but the deal we struck is more than equitable—”

  “It would be,” Ramachan interrupted, “if you’d negotiated in good faith. Kemet’s orbit has destabilized. I know you’re aware. You were probably aware before I was. So I’m forced to ask myself, why would you feign ignorance? Those are the actions of a guilty conscience, one seeking plausible deniability.”

  Jolene gave a reluctant, exaggerated sigh. She raised a single perfect eyebrow, slowly. “You are testing my patience, Minister. I do not appreciate unsupported accusations. Do you have some evidence you’d like to present to back up your vague allegations? Yes, I have become aware of your planet’s predicament, but that is hardly my fault. Besides,” she said as she paused and offered a smile, “it is quite possible you might find a solution to this crisis. I don’t want to assume that you won’t, nor do I want to spook your populace by canceling the trade deal. Is that what you’re telling me you’d like to do? Simply pay the cancellation fee, and I will have the trade moon diverted.”

  Ramachan’s face went splotchy, and for a moment Jolene hoped she might actually start shouting. Instead, the woman gradually regained her composure, and did not speak until after she’d regained it fully.

  “I have evidence that magic was used,” the minister said. She leaned closer to the screen, and her eyes narrowed. “Void magic. It altered the course of the comet. That thing was aimed at our world, Jolene. Aimed by you, I’m willing to bet. I don’t have evidence, but I will, eventually. And when I do you can bet that I will bring it to the Confederacy.”

  “If you make any such false allegations,” Jolene replied softly, steepling her fingers as she peered over them at her adversary, “then I will also go to the Confederacy. Their courts take defamation quite seriously. Now I am very sorry for your local troubles, Minister, and I don’t mind admitting that I do plan to profit off them. However, I am not the heartless monster you assume me to be. If you somehow avert this catastrophe, and satisfy your quota to the trade moon, then we make great profit and everyone wins. I wish you no ill will, Minister, but only a fool ignores an opportunity.”

  The minister’s anger faltered, though her gaze was still clotted with suspicion. Her nostrils flared, but she said nothing for long moments.

  “Very well,” Ramachan finally said, her tone now controlled. “I will accept you at your word, until I have evidence. But make no mistake, Jolene. If you are responsible for this, then I will prove it, and I will see that you are taken down.”

  “Of course,” Jolene agreed, stifling the small surge of fear that Ramachan might somehow make good on her threat. So far as Jolene knew, they had no way to communicate directly with the Confederacy, not through any official channels. That should buy her plenty of time.

  “Good day.” The missive ended, leaving Jolene with her thoughts.

  She didn’t like that her adversary suspected her, and it alarmed her that someone possessed the magitech necessary to detect her involvement. What if they could somehow tie it back to her? After everything she’d seen, Jolene knew better than to assume she was safe.

  Should she take further action?

  No, that would only confirm the minister’s suspicions. As difficult as it was, all she could do was sit back and wait.

  If there was any silver lining it was that Ramachan would soon have much bigger problems to deal with.

  11

  I woke up lying in the shallow end of the sludge lake, the armor mostly covered by viscous yellow goo. Thankfully the environmental seal was intact, insulating me from a wonderful aroma that I wasn’t eager to get acquainted with.

  What had woken me became clear when it poked me in the chest a second time. I leaned into a sitting position, and a trio of small humanoids scurried away as the leader dropped a long stick he’d been using to poke me.

  At first I thought they were children, but if so these were the best armed ten-year-olds I’d ever run afoul of. Their scavenged combat armor was in good repair, and each had a pistol belted at their side. Small caliber, maybe, but enough for your average scav to worry about.

  “Ey dere, fellow. Seem amite prickly.” The lead figure trotted a bit closer. His voice was much deeper than I’d expected. “If yer gonna die, dafellows and I would appreciate it if you’d get on with it. Joost expire, alright, mate?”

  I leaned back in the muck, instantly relieved. It was just drifters. They could be dangerous, but nothing they could do was getting through my armor.

  “Zat mean he expired?” One of the other drifters approached, and prodded me with a booted foot.

  “No,” I croaked, my throat raw for some reason. I took a deep breath and rolled over onto my side, then into a kneeling position. The drifters scurried backwards when I raised my hands. “I just got flung out of that.”

  I pointed shakily at the funnel cloud dominating the western horizon, the tornado of the gods, tearing rock, people, and everything else from that part of the world. Even this far away I could still hear that awful tearing sound.

  “You joost came from that?” the third drifter asked, this one female. Her drawl was much easier to understand than the others. “This fooker is tougher than he looks. Come on, let’s go. We’re wastin’ daylight.”

  The trio retreated down the shore of the sludge lake, and used their long sticks to prod the edge. I wondered
what they found that made it worth the effort, then decided I really didn’t want to know. The sludge came from all waste from the entire sprawl. Yuck.

  I trudged up onto the shore, and started toward a random alleyway that led west. It might be a rat’s nest, but it was my rat’s nest and I knew it well. No one bothered me as I plodded by, though quite a few scavs cringed or winced as they walked past. It made me even more glad I couldn’t smell myself.

  The exhaustion made me want to close my eyes on the spot, but I knew if I did I’d never open them again. No self-respecting scav would pass up the opportunity to steal my armor, and the smart ones would sell my body to a chop shop to sweeten their payday.

  No, I definitely couldn’t fall asleep.

  It took maybe ten minutes to wind my way back to my dad’s flop, my first stop. I paused in the doorway, and leaned my head inside. “Dad? We need to talk. Right now.”

  “Are you depths-damned serious?” Dad came floating out on his hoverchair, a beer in one hand and the holo remote in the other. At least he was out of the recliner. “We just agreed that you were going to meet your mom. You can’t save me, kid. Jer…wait, what happened to you? What is that SMELL?”

  He finally seemed aware of my appearance, which in a word was…horrendous.

  I didn’t have time to catch him up. Every minute mattered now. Our world was on a timer. A short one. “Dad, my tram got sucked up into orbit. It’s gone. The tram, the line, the city around it. All of it. Let that sink in.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow, which pissed me off. After everything I’d just gone through to survive…he didn’t believe me?

  “The whole city of Denalis is gone. The Sek mountains? Gone. You asked me why I hawked Ariela? Well, this armor just saved my life. Again. I clawed my way back down from orbit, and the sludge lake was the only available LZ. I’m damned lucky it was there. There’s no reaching Mom, Dad. If we’re going to survive, we’re on our own.”