Mistrunner 3 - Chapter 21 - Fortune and Glory (Patreon)

Cyrilla begged me to stay. She said a hundred horrible things about Mira, some of which were objectively true. But I knew she just couldn’t see past the person who’d brought Nova City to its knees. All she saw was the woman who was responsible for the deaths of thousands. I knew Mira was more than that, though. She was a good person, just one who’d been forced by circumstances to do a lot of bad things.

Patrick Ward

The trip across the ocean was relatively quiet, save for a few hundred miles when we were chased by a giant squid whose tentacles could reach us even a few thousand feet in the air. We would have flown higher, but the quarantine might have interpreted that as us trying to leave the atmosphere. Neither of us wanted to chance that – Patrick had heard plenty of stories from Remy about people who’d been censured by the system for pushing the limits – so we were forced to outrun the monstrous thing rather than simply out-elevate it.

Still, even hamstrung as we were, we eventually outpaced it, though we had to burn quite a few Rift shards to gain the necessary speed. Given that it was between spending a little money or being dragged into the watery abyss to be eaten by a creature out of myth, the choice was an easy enough one to make. Still, every second of increased speed came with a deep sense of annoyance. Not only were we wasting money, but I was impotent to affect the outcome. For all my abilities and skills, there was nothing I could do against such a creature.

After making it to the coast, we were assaulted by a few flocks of predatory birds, but with Patrick at the helm of the Leviathan, they didn’t pose much of a threat. It was a testament to both his flying ability as well as the quality of the ship itself that, even if were attacked by something like the condor that, what felt like a lifetime ago, had very nearly downed the Jitterbug, it wouldn’t have been terribly concerning. Not only could we outrun most birds, but the Leviathan was equipped with just enough weaponry to make quick work of the vast majority of creatures.

Of course, there were always exceptions to that rule. Case in point, the giant squid. There were also plenty of airborne monsters that could, if we didn’t take them seriously enough, bring the ship down. And that wasn’t even mentioning the dangers presented by people. The Leviathan was advanced – maybe more so than almost any other ship on Earth – but that didn’t mean we were invulnerable.

Thankfully, Patrick was more than a match for any other pilot we might encounter, so I knew the ship – and my life – was in good hands.

In all, the trip took almost an entire twenty-four hours. We set the Leviathan down a few hundred miles inland so Patrick could rest – he still didn’t want me flying the thing – but we were back in the sky early the next morning. After that, we made great time on our way to our destination, which turned out to be a sizable settlement that wasn’t quite as big as New Cairo, but much larger than Mobile had been.

There were enough commonalities that the comparison seemed appropriate, though. Like Mobile, the walled settlement had been built in the shadow of the crumbling ruins of a pre-Initialization city. Unlike the city where I’d spent much of my training, it was clearly more advanced, with the same pre-fabricated plasti-steel walls I’d seen in a hundred alien encampments. Likely, they’d consulted someone in the Bazaar to build it.

The buildings beyond those walls were a varied collection of disparate building materials. Brick, wood, and the more modern – and soulless, in my opinion – plasti-steel were all in evidence, but there was a decidedly workmanlike quality to the architecture. No frills. No flourishes. Just no-nonsense walls and roofs.

But they did have a dock.

Ever since leaving the region around Nova City behind, I had come to realize that the world was a little more connected than I’d previously thought. Not only were there plenty of ships – both airborne and the traditional ocean-going variety – capable of traversing the land and sea, but most cities had some sort of infrastructure to support such travel. That was how I’d gotten around during the year I’d spent apart from Patrick. Without him, what did I need with a ship? I could barely even fly the thing, much less navigate the many dangers associated with air travel.

No - it had been better to let him have it, even if I’d framed the arrangement at as a loan.

In any case, just to the north of Fortune, the city’s architects had created a dock meant to accommodate flying ships. In truth, it was little more than a walled field, even if said field was so well-organized that it could house almost a hundred ships the size of the Leviathan. When Patrick set us down, I couldn’t help but notice that less than a third of those berths were occupied.

“Not really a popular place, huh?” I remarked.

“It’s a small city in the middle of nowhere,” Patrick said. “Not a lot of reason for people to come here.”

“Then why did Cyrilla set up here?” was my next question.

“Family. She has a little brother who moved here for some girl,” he answered. “The girl ended up moving on, but he stuck around. After Nova, Cyrilla couldn’t think of a better place to go. I think she’d had enough of big cities and all the other stuff that comes with those kinds of places.”

“I can get behind that sentiment,” I said. As much as I wanted to disagree with every facet of the woman’s being, I’d found that larger cities inevitably bred corruption. Usually, that fire was stoked by alien interference, but even when it wasn’t, human beings were more than capable of doing all sorts of horrible things to one another. No matter where in the world I went, I saw exploitation, oppression, and misery. There were other things present as well – plenty of happiness and love – but it all seemed to pale in comparison to the negatives. Perhaps the aliens were right to invade and bring us to heel.

Once we’d settled into the berth, Patrick shut down the Mist engines and went through his post-flight checklist. The Leviathanwas a magnificent, well-made machine, but without proper maintenance, it wouldn’t remain so for long. Or at least that’s what Patrick insisted. He’d yet to find anything wrong, despite checking after every flight, but I left him to it anyway. It made him happy – or failing that, it kept his compulsivity demons at bay – so who was I to judge the routine?

Finally, he announced that the ship was in perfect shape, and I used my Bastionability. Normally, the ship’s passive defense systems were more than enough to deter any criminal mischief, but like Patrick, I felt it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to something as valuable as the Leviathan. As the ability took hold, I felt the Mist stir and form into a potent shield. That wasn’t the extent of its effects – it also restricted skill use to a certain degree – but it was the most important. Unless someone broke out some pretty big guns, they weren’t getting through. And even then, doing so would alert me, which would in turn allow me to respond, probably with extreme prejudice.

“All buttoned up?” Patrick asked as we stood before the cargo bay door. He’d stored most of the valuable materials in his skill-based spatial storage, so the cargo bay was once again mostly empty.

“Sealed tight,” I said. “You want to take the Cutter? Or should we walk?”

“We could take the ATAV,” he suggested, glancing back at the wheeled vehicle. Then, he amended, “Probably not. The cannon might give the wrong impression.”

“Or the right one,” I said, winking at him.

“No explosions,” he reminded me.

“Not unless absolutely necessary,” I stated.

“None.”

“You know I’m not going to agree to that,” I said. “That’s like asking me not to breathe. So, just drop it.”

He sighed, but nodded in agreement. I had no intention of seeking out conflict, but if it found me, I would respond appropriately. Or with overwhelming force, which always seemed appropriate from my perspective.

As we exited the ship, we were met by a uniformed functionary. He was a narrow-shouldered man with bland face, a mop of brown hair, and a bored expression. Normally, people were impressed by the Leviathan, but he didn’t seem to care that it was a clearly advanced ship that was at least twice the size of anything else docked there.

“Reason for visiting Fortune?” he asked, holding a tablet in one hand. He never even looked up at us.

“Visiting a friend,” said Patrick. As the captain of the ship, he liked to take care of the questions that inevitably came with every visit to a new city. For my part, I was content to stand to the side and hope not to be noticed. In the past, I probably would have used Mimic, but I had recently begun to realize that my reliance on wearing someone else’s face as well as my habitual use of Stealth were both defense mechanisms. They were also largely unnecessary, given that very few people knew me by sight even if they were aware of my exploits, which was unlikely so far from Nova City.

“Anything to declare?” the functionary asked.

Patrick answered, “No. Not here to trade. Just visiting a friend.”

There was a slight stir in the ambient Mist, which told me he’d used one of his abilities. I still wasn’t sure of their precise names – it wasn’t as if I could just ask him for a list – but I knew he had a few that would ease his entry into cities. He was a smuggler by skill, after all.

The man still didn’t look up from his tablet; instead, he just pressed a few buttons on the screen before getting the ship’s and Patrick’s name. He never even acknowledged my presence, which was, despite my preference for anonymity, a bit disconcerting. Usually, people noticed me, especially when I wasn’t trying to hide. That he hadn’t was a bit of a blow to my ego.

Once we’d finished with him, the man quickly retreated to a broad, low-slung building at the edge of the dock, and we headed in the opposite direction. As we did, I noticed that a few of the other ships were either being loaded or unloaded with plasti-steel crates by burly men and women.

“What do they produce here?” I asked.

“Produce? Nothing. But there is a silver mine close by,” Patrick said. “Supposed to be Mist-infused, too. So, it’s useful for all sorts of things. In fact, that’s the origin of the name. Fortune and Glory – that was what the founder called it when it was just a mining camp. At some point, they dropped the “Glory” part and just went with Fortune.”

“Probably a good call. The old name was a bit of a mouthful,” I said as we strode toward a series of warehouses and traders’ premises. No one paid us much attention, though I did notice that quite a few people had noticed the Leviathan. That was good. She was a fantastic and advanced ship, and she deserved a little attention. “This place reminds me of Biloxi. Did I ever tell you about that place?”

Patrick shook his head, saying, “You mentioned it, but you didn’t talk about it much more than that.”

“They harvested this weird, red kelp there, and they had a bunch of warehouses like these. About half the workers were dust fiends, though,” I said. “But the rich also had these huge boats that they used for casinos and stuff. It seemed a weird choice at the time, but it certainly made it memorable.”

Indeed, I had seen dozens of cities and towns since then, and at first, I remembered them all. However, after a certain point, they had all begun to blend together. Only the ones like Biloxi, with some remarkable aspect, made it into my memory.

“Maybe we can visit it sometime,” he said. “I’m not usually much of a gambler, but –”

“Probably best if I never go there again,” I interrupted. “I didn’t exactly leave on good terms.”

“Oh. Okay.”

It was telling that he didn’t even question that. In truth, my time in Biloxi had flown completely under the radar, and as far as I know, nobody had ever connected the Banshee I’d been impersonating with the woman who’d brought down Nova City. The real reason I had no interest in returning had to do with the details of what I’d done there. Not only had I ruined a mostly innocent man’s life, but I’d done so without even a second’s hesitation. As hard-hearted as I wanted to be – as I usually needed to be – that little mission had stuck with me and polluted my conscience to the point where I often found myself wondering how Calvin was doing. Had he kept along the path I’d put him on? Or had he broken free of the addiction I’d all but forced upon him?

I wanted to know, but I was afraid to search out the answer.

Eventually we reached the edge of the mass of warehouses to approach the city proper. Up close, it was easy to see that the wall wasn’t Fortune’s only defense. It was equipped with a decently powerful Mist shield, manned turrets every dozen yards or so, and enough security personnel – dressed in mundane black uniforms without any decoration to speak of – to put down a horde of wildlings. In all, I was fairly impressed with how seriously they took their city’s defenses.

After being once again questioned about our purpose, we were ushered through the gates and into the city. Once inside, I found myself impressed by the level of order and cleanliness. There was no trash in the streets. No graffiti on the walls. Certainly, the architecture would never garner much attention – aside from an acknowledgement of the sheer utility of the structures – but what it lacked in originality, it more than made up for in practicality.

Just inside the gates were a few motorized rickshaws that were apparently driven by a wheeled bots.

“That just seems wildly inefficient,” I said, thinking about how pointlessly complicated such a design was. Lots of cities had weird quirks, but this one stuck out to me because it was so at-odds with the rest of Fortune’s workmanlike atmosphere. “Why not just make self-driving hovercars?”

Patrick shrugged, saying, “I don’t know. I never really asked before.”

After hiring one, we endured a featureless ride through the city. After a couple of minutes, I said, “Say what you will about Nova, but at least it had real personality.”

“Yeah,” said Patrick. “From what I understand, they took the whole ‘mining camp’ efficiency idea and just ran with it when the city kept growing. Not that it’s a bad thing, I guess.”

I would have agreed if it weren’t for the people. Just like the drab buildings, they seemed devoid of personality, often wearing colorless clothing and eschewing the fashion I’d grown accustomed to in my travels. No visible tattoos, dyed hair, or piercings were in evidence, which seemed incredibly odd to me.

“Seems like it’d fit her just fine, though,” I said, referring to Cyrilla. “She never had much personality either.”

“Don’t be like that, Mira,” Patrick said. “You said you’d be nice.”

“I am being nice. You can tell because I’m saying this now rather than to her face,” I stated.

“This was such a mistake,” he muttered to himself. “I’m going to regret this. I know it.”

“It’ll be fine. What could go wrong when you bring your girlfriend to meet your elderly ex?” I said cheerfully. Seeing him so uncomfortable made the entire trip worth it. Still, I hoped we wouldn’t remain in Fortune for long, though I suspected it would take at least a few weeks for Patrick to work things out with the suit he was planning to build. From what I understood, it was supposed to be a very complex set of machinery, and that was even without the whole cybernetic aspect that would link it to his interface.

Patrick continued to mumble to himself – probably about how lucky he was to have such an understanding girlfriend – as we made our way to our destination, which turned out to be a mundane building that looked almost identical to its neighbors. The only identifying feature was a giant number that had been painted on the side, declaring that it was number fifty-one, whatever that meant.

I initiated a transfer to the self-driving rickshaw before leaving the vehicle behind. Soon enough, we’d stepped inside the building, and I was unsurprised to see that the interior was just as featureless as the outside. The only thing that could be said in its favor was that it was spacious and clean.

We rode an elevator up to the third floor, and upon our arrival, it announced, “You have reached the third floor.”

Its voice was predictably boring.

Everything about Fortune was, which made me wonder why anyone would live there. Of course, Patrick knew me well enough to predict the question on the tip of my tongue, and he said, “Safety, cleanliness, and a fair government makes up for a lot.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your expression did.”

“Whatever. Let’s go do this thing,” I said, slapping my hands together. “I’m super excited about seeing my old friend Cyrilla again. Emphasis on old.”

Patrick rolled his eyes, but he led me deeper into the building until we finally reached an apartment with a jarringly pink door. It was the only bit of color I’d seen since my arrival, which garnered a healthy dose of approval – at least until I remembered who was behind that door. Immediately, my attitude shifted, and I started grumbling about how she just had to do something to stand out.

After knocking on the door, Patrick took a step back and waited. There wasn’t much of a delay, though, before the door slid open, revealing the familiar face of Cyrilla. In my head, I remembered her as much older than she really was. Somehow, I’d added a host of wrinkles, a hunched back, and a bony, rather than slim, body. The reality was pretty far from the truth, and I had to begrudgingly admit that I understood why someone might be attracted to her.

Clearly, she was older then either of us, but only by a decade at most. Which made my previous comments seem a bit ridiculous. Not that I’d ever admit as much to Patrick, of course.

Still, her appearance wasn’t the most surprising part. Instead, that label belonged to her desperate expression. The moment the door opened, she said, “Oh, thank goodness you’re both here! We don’t have much time!”

Then, before either Patrick or I could ask any questions, she had dragged us inside and shut the door behind us.