The Razor's Edge by Seanan McGuire
“Karrl … she … won’t do anything again. She likely died even before you got back to the infirmary.”
“Why? She was just carrying a placard … just a placard… She lost … you know …”
Raak hadn’t known, but he nodded anyway.
“I’m so sorry, Karrl,” offered Donnal.
Karrl didn’t even look at Donnal.
* * *
The older man looked to the vidfaxer. “It got worse then, with the Ascendents trying to kill anyone they suspected of being a Seeker or close to them.”
“You just killed two men?”
“Because they were about to kill my friend … and then they would have killed me to cover up what they did. That was what the penguins did when they were threatened.”
The young man swallowed. “What happened after that?”
“Things got even worse. There wasn’t any way they’d get better.”
* * *
A week later, after making sure that Adryna was as safe as possible with friends that had no connection to Raak, he was wearing the blue and white thermals of the Seekers, and mostly patrolling the tunnels that led to the command center from which Ferra coordinated the “replacement” of the Ascendency. For some reason, the Seeker leader seemed to want Raak close by, but that reason clearly wasn’t that he lacked trust in Raak, because he insisted Raak carry both stunners and had provided him with a projectile rifle for use outside the warren of tunnels.
Karrl remained almost mute, largely sleeping in one of the underground bunkrooms.
Raak heard footsteps, more than a few, and hurried toward the pressure doors behind the hidden entrances in the restrooms in Lugh’s, something he once never would have suspected.
The first person he saw he didn’t recognize, nor the second, but the third was Adryna, and her face was blood-streaked.
At the expression on his face, she said quickly, “Most of it’s not mine. The penguins are using skimmers against the south quarter of the city. Two penguins were clubbed to death there yesterday after one of them shot a six-year-old boy.”
* * *
“That was the beginning of the harrowing of Sanjak City by the Ascendants,” said Herryn flatly.
“The harrowing?” asked the vidfaxer.
“The rising is what people who weren’t there call it.”
* * *
Raak himself didn’t see that much of it, posted as he was in the deep tunnels. What he did see was more of how Stannal Ferra controlled the “replacement” effort in the small room that served as his command center.
“Tell those rockhead podunkers to make their own weapons! They’ve got a lab up there, and they’ve sure got more tech to work with than we do.” Ferra looked up from the screen, shaking his head. “You’d think they thought this would be an Ascendency tea with crumpets and whatever. Every time I talk to a rock-head, I almost feel sympathy for the Ascendents and their puffins. Almost.” He looked to Donnal. “We’ll need to make sure none of them get high positions on the Council.”
“Council?” asked Raak.
“Donnal’s worked out the government structure for when we kick the blood-suckers off Bartolan. A democratically elected Council that chooses a chief councilor from the fifteen elected councilors. Six year staggered terms. No one serving more than two consecutive terms, and no one eligible for re-election for six years after leaving the Council. Pretty much the same judiciary as now, because that’s required by the Unity.”
* * *
“For more than nine weeks, the campaign went on. One out of every three people died. By the end, every penguin was dead in the city and in High Point. Some of the militia stripped off their uniforms and mixed in with the survivors. Every puffin bureaucrat was dead or had fled, most to the shuttle port, where the shuttles to the orbit station ran non-stop, and, with a war going on, only one way. Unity policy kept anyone but Unity officials from going down. None of them had any interest in that.”
“Then what happened?”
“Two weeks later, in the dead of winter, the Seekers went to the Ascendents’ valley.”
* * *
Raak sat in the front seat of the hauler, stunners in waist holsters and a rifle propped beside him. Stannal was in the rear, shielded by steel and copper plates hurriedly welded in sandwiched layers.
Karrl was driving, guiding the unwieldy hauler up the access road from the flitter port to the various estates laid out on the gently sloping valley, a valley covered partly in a thin layer of ice and snow, at least in the places where the worst of the ice wind couldn’t rip it away. All the buildings in each of the few hundred estates in the valley were seemingly low to the ground, but that was because most of the living space was below ground, sheltered from the blistering heat of summer and the ice winds of winter.
As the hauler climbed around a wide curve, through the periscope above the heavy plow and shields welded to it, Raak could finally see the entrance to the valley—a rock-lined moat some five to ten meters deep and extending more than a kilometer on each side of the road. Behind that moat was a wall some four meters high that ran from cliff to cliff, except for the heavy gates, anchored in stone ramparts, that offered the only ground entrance. On the road before the gates was a stone-fronted emplacement that had clearly been built recently.
A full-power laser flared against the makeshift shield of the heavy plow in the front of the hauler, momentarily creating so much glare that the periscope was useless.
“Frig …” muttered Karrl, but he kept the hauler on the road, as much by feel as anything else, thought Raak.
Then the tube mortar in the shielded cupola in the hauler’s empty ore compartment began to fire at the emplacement in front of the gates to the valley proper. The mortar shells didn’t have much effect on the stone slabs, but the smoke and dust clearly affected the sighting of the laser, because the beam slewed away, then twisted back onto the front of the hauler whose bulk shielded the smaller mining vehicles following, vehicles armored more lightly and almost haphazardly.
The thump … thump … thump of the mortar above and behind the hauler’s cab continued.
So did the laser, and Raak could feel the heat. He wondered how much of the armored plow was left, hoping that the laser weaponeer couldn’t keep it focused on the same place.
… thump … thump … thump …
“Got that bastard!”
The laser beam slewed skyward and vanished.
Projectile rifle bullets sprayed off the raised plow of the hauler and off the metal treads as Karrl kept the hauler moving toward the stone barrier in front of the gates.
“There’s a penguin skimmer up there!”
Almost instantly an explosion rattled the hauler’s cab.
“They got one of the vans!”
Then came the whooshing sound of a seeker missile, followed by a more distant explosion.
“Skimmer’s down. Bastard’s didn’t think we could jury-rig a seeker.”
“There’s another skimmer … at your ninety …”
Raak tightened his grip on the rifle, knowing that he could do nothing, his eyes on Karrl’s face, seemingly frozen in the same impassive expression that had not changed since he’d found out that Carryn had died.
Another explosion from farther behind the hauler rattled the cab.
“They got the tailguard. Likely thought it was you, Stannal.”
“Sometimes, leading from the front has its advantages,” replied Ferra, a touch of forced humor in his voice.
Another laser targeted the hauler, and for a minute the hauler swayed, but Karrl recovered quickly.
The intermittent thump … thump … thump of the mortar continued.
The pinging and spanging of projectiles on the plow and the hauler continued, then intensified as the hauler entered the straight section of road leading to the gates and the stone-faced barricade in front of them.
Rockets whooshed past the hauler’s cab, targeted at the gatehouses and the space direc
Karrl shifted the hauler into full load and angled the hauler toward the left side of the road, careful to keep all the treads on the narrow section that crossed the dry moat. Raak didn’t even feel an impact as the blade shoved earth and stone into the moat. It took almost half an hour to clear the road and then for Karrl to line up the hauler directly in front of the gates.
“We’re ready to take down the gates,” said Karrl.
Raak realized those were the first words Karrl had spoken in hours, except a one-syllable curse.
“Rip them open,” ordered Ferra.
With the hauler in full load, Karrl accelerated over the bodies that had fallen into or next to the gates and into the heavy metal, but the gates went down like they were made of foil, crumpling away from the heavy armored plow.
“Head for the estate marked with the black diamond,” ordered Ferra.
Karrl frowned.
“Which one is that?” asked Raak.
“Take the right-hand road for half a kilometer. There should be gateposts with black diamonds flanking a drive there.”
Less than half an hour later, with the help of a few rockets, the hauler had battered its way into the covered half-underground entrance to the Ascendency villa, dispatching in the process several more penguins.
“Raak! You and Karrl and Donnal stay here!” ordered Ferra. “Let Patraik’s strike force lead the way.”
Even in heavy thermals and inside the hauler, Raak was shivering. He hadn’t realized how cold he’d gotten while the hauler had plodded its way up the valley and into the Ascendency’s enclave. He didn’t even want to think what it was like outside in the ice wind a thousand meters higher than Sanjak City.
The four of them waited until Patraik reappeared. “It looks clear, ser. Just a few guards. We took care of them. The team has the staff locked up in a storeroom.
Ferra didn’t answer, instead studying the small screen he held. A sardonic smile crossed his face as he said, “Bravo Force reports that all the Ascendents left alive took the shuttle to orbit station less than an hour ago. Let’s go see what they left behind.”
“I’m staying here,” said Karrl. “Just in case.”
“Good idea. Thank you,” replied Ferra, motioning for Raak to precede him into the villa.
Beyond the blasted doors was a wide ramp, floored in marble polished to a glistening sheen, if splattered in blood in places from the handful of bodies strewn there. Stunners out, one in each hand, just in case, despite what Patraik had said, Raak led the way down the ramp into a wide circular entry hall that rose a good seven meters above his head. Below a gilded chair rail the wall was finished in pale blue tiles, while the upper wall was shimmering white. At regular intervals were recessed alcoves, each containing a stone statue. On the walls between the alcoves were tapestries woven from threads that seemed to have a life of their own, and light poured down from a golden faceted globe in the center of the arched ceiling. A circular carpet of dark blue, edged in an interwoven design of braided golden chains, covered roughly four fifths of the marble tiles.
Beyond the entry was a foyer with hallways going in three directions.
Raak’s mouth opened as Donnal stepped up beside him.
From behind them, Ferra said, “Quite something isn’t it?”
* * *
And that’s how it happened?” asked the young vidfaxer. “But what happened to the Liberator?”
“You all know that story. He was shot by a penguin hiding in the head Ascendent’s private study. I didn’t see the penguin until it was too late. That’s all in the history.”
“After all that … to be shot after he’d gone through the entire revolution.”
Herryn nodded. “It was tragic … a true tragedy. Fortunately, he’d briefed Donnal on just what he wanted done. Donnal never wanted to be a Councilor. In fact, he hated it, but he did a magnificent job.”
“You were never a Councilor, were you?”
“No. That didn’t suit me. I was the head of security for the first council, then turned security into the constabulary and went back to teaching.”
After the young man left, the young woman turned to Herryn. “I never heard much of that, Grandfather.”
“There wasn’t any reason for you to know it all.” He smiled sadly. Especially not the part of the story he hadn’t told, the one that no one else now knew.
* * *
Raak, Donnal, and Ferra walked past the penguin who’d fallen in the corridor and into the spacious study with its wide desk of polished imported Earth teak, and the still-functioning screens that filled one wall, likely powered from the wind-turbines and long-life batteries reserved for the Ascendency enclave.
Ferra beamed. “We’ve won. It’ll be a while before the Unity sends an Integration Team, but they’ll certify our new government. They don’t have much choice. They need the rhenium, their precious rhenium, and their own rules say they can’t interfere so long as there’s a working government in firm control. We definitely have that, and they can’t possibly object to the structure Donnal’s worked out. It’s just a matter of time and formality.” Ferra turned to Donnal. “This study almost makes it worthwhile. Each of the estates is like this. Different, but all luxurious. You two should each have one. This one will make a great retreat for one of the new Councilors. Me, that is.” Ferra settled into the comfortable chair behind the wide polished desk and looked at the viewscreens on the wall that showed views not only of the valley, but of High Point and the shuttle port. “Of course, we’ll have to set it up carefully.”
Raak glanced at Donnal, who looked distinctly unhappy, then said, “I thought Donnal had already planned that. The people elect representatives to the Council …”
“That’s the outer form of government,” declared Ferra. “What I’m talking about is the real government. That’s how we’ll keep control. We can’t just turn everything over to the people without some, shall we say, checks and balances. The last thing we need is a bunch of rockhead podunkers from High Point electing some demagogue who’ll promise handouts to everyone. That’s why anything the Council does will have to be reviewed by the Justiciary to be in accord with both Unity law and Bartolan law and regulations. And I’ve already re-written the law in a way that will pass Unity scrutiny. That’s one of the advantages of being an advocate.” Ferra smiled warmly at Raak. “And you’ll be perfect as head of my security.”
“I’d never thought …” began Raak.
“I know. You’ve never thought of yourself. That’s why you’ll be perfect. The honest, direct, former teacher.” Ferra beamed.
“You’re the Liberator. You always will be,” said Raak, managing not to frown as he turned toward the screen showing the empty shuttle port being lashed by the ice wind. All the struggle, all the deaths, just so a new Ascendency, with a different form and name, could replace the old one. That… that shouldn’t happen. It can’t, and it won’t.
In a single quick motion, he had the stunner out and fired, its settings still on lethal.
Ferra slumped forward in the chair.
Donnal gasped. Then his mouth dropped open.
“Drag in that dead penguin outside. Now!”
“Why …?”
“Because no one else has seen that body recently, because the penguin surprised us, and because I shot him after he shot Stannal. Because we don’t want another Ascendency. You’re going to take up the Liberator’s mantle in his name, and we’re going to guide Bartolan into a working counciled democracy.”
Donnal swallowed again.
“You can do it,” said Raak. “I know you can.”
* * *
And he had, thought the old man, smiling sadly once more at his granddaughter,
The Weapon They Fear
Alex Gideon
The cell’s electric lock was now just a mess of wires. It took exactly twenty-one seconds to gnaw through it, putting me precisely within my time line. No alarms blared and no soldiers rushed down the corridor, so Adrian’s security blocks were up and active. A relief. I trusted my partner’s technical skills, but things could always go awry. I was a Were-Squirrel, deep in the bowels of a research lab run by the American Government, and I was in the country illegally. I wasn’t sure which damned me more.
I dropped from the pad, flipped, and landed on my paws. The drop cost me two seconds. One longer than I intended. The security blackout Adrian implemented would last thirty minutes, assuming no one discovered his hack. I never assume, so I wanted to be off the floor in less than ten. An eternity for me. I’m an infiltrator. I generally deal in seconds. Not minutes. It’s why rescue isn’t generally in my repertoire. It takes too long.
I hurried into the cell, nails clicking against the white tile. The room was small; three meters by three. It smelled odd. Dirty and feral. More like an animal’s cage than a holding cell. Something dark rested against the far wall and I was just inside the door when I realized what it was.
Six-foot-two, one hundred eighty-three pounds, Brazilian, handsome, with dark hair, green eyes, and mocha skin. That was the description I had of my target, Davi Ortiz. That wasn’t the person in this cell. It wasn’t a person at all. It was a monkey.
A howler monkey, more precisely. It lay on its side, belly towards me. It was just under three feet long. Its tail limp on the floor. Eyes closed. Sides rose and fell irregularly. Its breathing ragged. Possibly asleep. Its face was jet black. The surrounding fur, brown. I smelled the iron tang of blood and the rancid reek of infection. It was hurt. I moved closer and saw just how bad. Its patchy fur was shaved away in several places and matted with blood where it wasn’t. The exposed skin was laced with sutured incisions. He’d been here for some time and was obviously poked and prodded regularly.