To those of you (if any) who have been waiting for this, I apologize for the lateness.
To those of you (me included) who thought the above sounded really arrogant, I also apologize.
To all of you: Language warning.
Hopefully the formatting works on this.
*****
That night, as I am laying out my makeshift bed of crates and cloth on which I have taken to sleeping, Enko approaches me. Raz is asleep, and Asil is quietly sharpening the edge on his pole. “We need to talk,” he quietly declares. I turn to face him, take a good look at his face, and sit down. His face is serious, deadly serious, with undertones of trepidation and concern. His eyes are slightly narrowed, and suspicious.
“You want to sit?” I ask, hooking a foot around the corner of a crate and sliding it to him. This can’t bode well… I think to myself.
With a nod, he takes the proffered crate and sits. “We need to talk,” he repeats.
I crack a smile. “Yeah, I caught that the first time,” I say, making sure the smile is wide enough to take the sting out of the sarcasm.
Enko seems to contemplate the statement for a moment, then shrugs, offering the slightest ghost of a smile in return. “I want to talk to you about what you did, how it involves my brother, how it involves me, and what you’re planning in the long run.”
“Let me guess,” I say, heading him off. “If I endanger your brother, I die.”
“Basically.”
“Should I leave now, then?” I ask quietly, not doubting Enko’s will to kill me, and not doubting that he will if he deems it necessary, which I suspect it soon will.
“Explain what you’re up to first, then I’ll think about it.”
“Only if you give me all the ammo out of your gun,” I say, in all seriousness. “I’ll give it back when we’re done or I leave, whichever comes first.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” he asks rhetorically, ejecting the clip from his gun.
So it is a projectile-shooter. Bullets. Standard rounds, nothing special. But it’ll still hurt like hell if he shoots me… “No, probably not,” I answer, despite the rhetorical nature of the question. “And the one already chambered,” I say as Enko deposits the magazine in my outstretched hand. I place it quietly on the crate next to me, and extend my hand again.
“Very good,” he says quietly, and removes the bullet in question, handing it over. I take it, and place it with the magazine. “Now let’s hear it.”
“Where do you want me to start?”
“We’ll start with what you did today.”
“What of it?”
“You killed three Militia patrolmen.”
“What of it?” I ask again.
“Regrets?”
“Some,” I admit.
“But not many?” Enko asks. I nod. “What regrets? For killing them? Or for having to kill them?”
“I’m not particularly upset I killed them. I’m slightly annoyed I had to make a move at all, but that’s the cost of doing business.”
“The rebellion you’re planning? Or some other business?”
“Both.”
“And the other business?”
“Getting weapons for the uprising.”
“Great. One pistol, two goop guns, and a stiletto.”
“More.”
“Something Asil didn’t want to put in the blanket?”
“Don’t know what, yet.”
“Osul?”
“Yes.”
“They raped his daughter?”
“The captain did, he says. No idea about the rest of them.”
Enko nods, taking it all in. “And Osul will supply us?”
“So he says.”
“How much of this does Raz know?”
“He knows what and why.”
“Not what you’re planning?”
“No. Osul knows, though. I had to tell him. He told your brother to go keep watch outside, then brought him back in to hear what I planned.”
“What do you plan?”
I recounted what I had told to Osul, covering why I thought that no previous uprising had succeeded. At the end of it, Enko leaned forward, putting his chin in his hand, thinking. “Questions?”
“A very vague plan,” he said, but not in an accusing manner. To my surprise, he didn’t sound like he minded. “You can’t lead.”
“I know. But Raz can.”
“I have a sinking suspicion I know why you took my bullets. Explain. Now,” he said, placing a heavy tone of command on the final word. His eyes narrowed.
“I start the uprising, then I put Raz in charge. He’s young, energetic, charismatic, and street-wise. He’ll be the public face of the uprising.”
Enko’s hands slowly clench themselves into fists. “We’re all tools to you, aren’t we?” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. There is a long pause, as Enko visibly contemplates his next move. “Fine. So be it. I don’t care what your motives are, so long as I know them.” I look up, surprised by this. “I should kick you out of here now, or just kill you.”
“I’ll leave. Don’t waste a bullet,” I say, beginning to stand.
“Sit your sorry, Militia wash-out ass down, or I will kill you.” I sit again, surprised. The hatred in his voice is impressive, blended seamlessly with undertones of contempt and grudging respect in a manner impossible to describe.
I notice that Asil is shamelessly eavesdropping. He notices that I have noticed, then gets up and walks over, grabbing a crate as he goes. He drops it next to Enko’s and seats himself. “Have we got ourselves a spy here or something?” he asks Enko.
“Not quite,” he replies tersely.
“What’s up, then?”
“I’m proposing to endanger his brother,” I answer for him. “Glossing over the fact that I’ve just admitted to him that I’m using you all.”
“About the first part, you’re a dumbass. About the second, who cares?” Asil says. “Who’s saying we aren’t using you?”
“Fair enough,” I concede with a shrug. I turn back to Enko. “So what’re you going to do with me? Now that he’s here, you don’t need your bullets to kill me,” I say, handing them back to him, knowing that if either of them wants me dead, I’ll never make it out of the warehouse.
“I’m going to wait until Raz wakes up in the morning, or what passes for morning in this cesspit, and ask him what he thinks. If he doesn’t like it, I’m going to take you to see Osul, and tell him that the Militia killed you when I come back alone. Whether I kill you or let you run for it haven’t decided,” he says, taking the solitary bullet back, then the magazine.
I nod at the gun. “How many of these are wandering around the undercity?” I ask.
“Not many,” Asil answers.
“Those who have them try to keep them secret, because everyone wants one. These are safety you can carry with you. Even against the Militia, if you use it right,” Enko says, finishing with an uncharacteristic grin, teeth barred like a feral animal. The moment lasts for but an instant, then is gone again. “Beyond setting Raz up to run your little uprising, what do you plan?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit.
Asil and Enko are silent for awhile. Finally, Enko breaks the silence, standing and saying “If I ever decide you lie to me, or you are going to get us all killed for no reason, I will put one of the bullets you just gave back to me into your head, and your brains will splatter all over the place and run into the river or the sewers and be just one more drop of shit from this damned city. Never forget that. I will kill you, even if it kills me. My brother means more to me than your life will ever mean.”
“I know,” I say, in all seriousness, looking him in the eye. Then I grin. “Why do you think I took the bullets?”
The next morning, I am the last one awake. None of the others make any indication that last night’s conversation ever happened. Around what I guess is lunch time, Raz goes out, hunting for parts for a generator. Asil, Enko, and I stay behind. Raz returns later, exicetedly proclaiming that he found a generator, but that it is too heavy for him to lift alone. He leaves again, Asil in tow. Enko leaves later, not saying where he’s going.
That night, Raz and Asil stroll in, carrying between them a large piece of machinery I can only assume is part of a generator. I rush to make a crate table for them to set it on, and they deposit the burden with a heavy thud. “That’s impressive,” I say, meaning it. “How’d you find it?”
“I don’t know. I found it,” Raz says. “I found it in a back alley, hooked to an abandoned building.” He looks around. “Where’s Enko?”
“He went out a few hours after you left,” I reply.
“I know, I met up with him, I just thought he’d be back by now…” he says, his thought trailing off into silence.
“How’d you manage to get this thing back?” I ask. “It must weigh a ton!”
“It wasn’t so bad with Asil helping,” Raz says cheerfully.
Asil shrugs. “It wasn’t that bad.” He rolls his shoulders and stretches, unintentionally displaying a huge amount of firm muscle. He could’ve broken my spine that first night, or last night, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop him… Asil looks around. “Where’s my spear?”
“It’s over here,” I say, picking it up from where I had leaned it against a pillar. “I was using it. Hope you don’t mind.”
“What for?”
“Trying to figure out how you could use that thing as a weapon,” I say with a laugh. I stoop down and pick up the cover to a crate, heavily scratched and bearing a few holes. “I managed to hurt the thing, but I didn’t kill it.” I laugh, and hold it up.
“Nice…” Asil says sarcastically, taking the spear from me. He takes the wooden target and examines it critically. He props it against the pillar, and motions me to step back. “Watch.” He takes a deep breath, grips the spear tightly, tenses, relaxes, then shoots into motion, darting forward with a thrust that turns into an upward slash that scores the wood deeply. He spins the rod around and whacks the butt end of the weapon into the wood, then twirls it around and thrusts forward. He pivots his body and smashes his forearm into it, hitting along the line of the original slash. The wood cracks, and half of it falls to the ground. He jumps back, slams one end of the spear into the wood lying on the ground, then whips the other end up and impales the remaining piece of wood.
POUND POUND POUND
“What the…?” I mutter.
“The door,” Raz says, and runs to open it.
A very annoyed Enko steps in. “What were you all doing that you couldn’t hear me?”
“I was showing Zeno here how to use this thing,” Asil says with a grin, holding the spear up.
“Keep it down, in the future,” he says crossly. Since when has he been the one in charge of all of us? “Zeno, did you take a look at the weapons like I suggested?”
“Yes,” I say, ignoring the unspoken but clearly stated aside ‘before you started screwing around.’ “The goop guns are in good working order, as are the stun batons. The ammo for the goop guns is mostly goop, not acid. Only two canisters are acid.”
“And the pistol?”
“Laser.”
“Specifically?”
“Damned if I know where it came from, but it’s not a true laser gun, actually. An energy blaster, the shot comes out mostly as heat and light. These types aren’t effective at long ranges- the heat tends to dissipate too much. Powered by an energy cartridge, of which we have only one, which was already in the gun. The display on it says it has almost full power.”
“Energy pulse? Constant beam of energy? What type?”
“Pulse.”
“May I have a look?” Raz asks.
“Sure.” I go to the table and pick up the dull, grey-black painted weapon, and give it to Raz.
“Could use a bit more light in here…” he mutters.
“I have light,” Enko says, putting down the sack he has slung over his shoulder and withdrawing a hand-sized device. “Cover those windows. I don’t want anyone knowing we’ve got one.”
“With what?” I demand. “And how do we get up there?”
“Stack crates for all I care. And improvise. Use pieces of crates, or whatever works.”
“And what? Just lean them there and hope really hard that they don’t fall?” I snap.
“That obviously won’t work. I just so happen to have found a plasma torch in my travels. That should help you. Take metal crates, and cut strips out of them. Use one strip to hold a wood piece in place. Melt the edges of the strip to the walls. There’s metal in the frames of the windows, probably.”
“How the hell did you get a plasma torch? And a light, for that matter.” I demand incredulously.
“Does it matter?” he asks, clearly not about to answer.
“No, I guess it doesn’t,” I admit in forced tones of nonchalance, giving him a pointed, suspicious glare. He tosses me the plasma torch, the look on his face assuring me that he hasn’t forgotten our conversation of last night, and that he can still kill me.
I catch the torch, and begin cutting strips from the metal cargo containers, as Enko suggested. Asil shrugs, and begins lining up crates to serve as a stairway. It is hot, and for Asil, probably back-breaking work. After a minute or two, Raz goes and starts helping Asil, smiling as always. Enko reluctantly pitches in a few minutes later. Within a few hours, we have successfully darkened the warehouse, and at long last, Enko turns on his device, and we are all bathed in a yellowish light.
“That… wasn’t really worth it,” I say with a laugh. “Let’s not move the crates in case we want to unseal a window for more light.”
“Okay,” Raz says.
“Whatever,” Enko says sourly.
I decide that I’d rather keep Enko as a friend, and not an enemy, and decide to diffuse some of the tension accumulating in the room. “Let’s take a look at that generator,” I suggest.
We all gather around the generator, and Enko brings the light and puts it on the makeshift table. “I don’t know much about generators, but it looks good,” Asil says, walking around to see if from another angle.
“I’d be inclined to agree with that,” I say.
“I say we turn it on and see what happens,” Raz declares.
“Anyone got a better idea?” I ask. Asil shakes his head. Enko frowns. Neither answers. “Then in that case, go for it, Raz.”
Raz approaches the machine, looks for a conspicuous ‘on’ button, and finds none. With a shrug, he throws the nearest switch, a large, metal, fork-shaped mechanism, slightly rusted. Absolutely nothing happens. “Maybe a different one, then,” he says, and starts turning any knob and throwing every switch he can find. After several minutes of trying various combinations of levels, knobs, and switches, he steps back, looking puzzled and slightly annoyed. “Well that sucks,” he says.
“It looks like we either need to figure out what does what, or just open the damn thing up,” Asil says, seizing the light and leaning forward to examine something. I move behind Asil and stare at the source of his curiosity. It is another rusted piece of metal, of about the right size to be a label. There are some lines on it, possibly remnants of some writing once inscribed on it, but no longer at all legible. There are several similar objects throughout the surface of the machine.
“Any of them could mean anything...” I mutter, slightly put out.
“We’ll just have to look inside,” Raz says cheerfully. He pulls out his multi-purpose tool. “Anyone see a hatch or something, or maybe a line of screws?”
Enko rolls his eyes. “I’m going to sleep,” he says. “Try not and blow us all up.” He goes and wraps himself in several blankets, and wedges himself in a corner.
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