Lancer 2.48 (Patreon)

By midmorning the next day, the boys caught sight of the city walls.  The commander had suited up in formal military dress, which was her custom when preparing for a deicide strike.  I’d never seen her do it myself—that little op in Salaphi didn’t count—but Markus had told me before.

The Eifni Organization’s formal uniform was multilayered, a tunic-like long belted shirt over slacks.  Over all that was a hakmir, a sleeved ankle-length outer garment halfway between a cape and a trenchcoat.  As a field operative, Abby’s uniform was sewn in dark greens and blacks, with her rank indicated by a strip of white cloth running along the inside of her collar.  The ceremonial scabbard belted around her hakmir was empty for symbolic reasons—less “I am unarmed” and more “my blade will never be sheathed.”

Full dress regulations required that the soldier’s medals be worn on the left breast of the hakmir, but for relaxed formal dress, we were permitted to commission a hakmir with the equivalent patches instead.  A three-hundred-year veteran, Abby had only opted for the vertical red bar representing the Red Dagger, the medal awarded for personally pulling the trigger on a pantheon-level god.

She had eleven of those: two millimeter-perfect rows of five and one calmly biding its time as the beginning of a third.

I showed up in my own formals.  Nothing much to speak of, just a Liberation Star for participating in a planetside action during my probation mission with the team.  Abby probably had a pile of those in a drawer somewhere.  My collar bar was black to her white, and I’d worn Lilith instead of an empty scabbard.

Abby threw me a look when I walked in, which I met evenly.  There were layers to the act of—right after she told me to stop treating her like a mother—showing up dressed exactly like her.  I was still her apprentice, and I was explicitly walking in her footsteps.  This was me saying I was still committed to that, not out of maternal trauma or anything, but because I knew where the road led and I was willing to walk it.

The commander came to some private decision and moved on without commenting.

“Step one is getting Val and Markus into position.”

*

The boys were greeted at the city gates by the sound of sizzling and the smell of grilled seafood.  From my position manning the ops console, I smelled it through two different noses.  It should have been overwhelming—especially given both of the noses I was borrowing had their own take on it—but the console did the lion’s share of the work, synthesizing those experiences into something my solitary mind could process.

The caravan pulled off Merchants’ road into one of the designated unloading areas.  The caravan master ordered everyone to remain with the wagons while she and a handful of guards went to negotiate lodgings.  From the way the caravanners had already sprawled out, preparing to kill time, this was probably standard procedure.  Some of the Dancers looked uncomfortable; between the caravan master’s guards and the suspiciously defensive positioning of the wagons, I wondered whether there was a history of violence there.

“The fishermen of Bulcephine have earned their honor today!” Cades laughed as Markus and Val joined him at one of the stalls.

There was a twinge of sadness from Markus at that, which I didn’t pry into.

“The honor belongs to the All-Mother,” the vendor said, smiling as they approached her.  “A thessim ago, she drew one of Horcutio’s brood from the deep and slaughtered it to feed the city.”

That bitch.  “That was my kill!”

“You’re selling thessim-old meat?” asked Val.

“Much of it was miraculously preserved,” said the vendor, smiling.  “Entirely undecayed, untouched by rot!  The sweetest octopus flesh I’ve ever tasted—for you, five drobol.”

“Please tell me it’s not radioactive.”

Val scanned the meat with his comm and shook his head slightly.

“The harbor must be clogged with fishermen,” Cades said, furrowing his brow.

“Like my father-in-law’s sphincter,” the vendor laughed.

“Will they finish before the Pentathlon?”

The vendor eyed his build and gave him a knowing look.  “The sea is still frothing red, friend.  Horcutio’s other children came for their due.  Anyone who falls in never makes it out.  We’ve got some time before the Kabidiad, but they might need to cancel the swimming portion.”

“I hate Kives so much,” I groaned.  “What the fuck is she up to now?”

“Disappointing,” Cades laughed.  “I’ve been waiting years to show the men of Vitareas a real Pentathlon.  Fate had other plans, it seemed.”

Markus felt sad again.

“Dude, what gives?” I asked him.

“This isn’t him,” he subvocalized, looking at his boyfriend with a heavy heart.  “This is what they made him.”

“Baby steps,” I said reassuringly.  “He’ll get there.”

Markus sighed.  “Sometimes the moment comes too late.”

*

“We’ll have Markus with the other competitors in the Course of Honor,” Abby continued the briefing.  “We don’t know if the Merisites will attempt a strike, so Val will be on bodyguard duty.  Keep up the mercenary cover.  Mixed-detector overlays active at all times.”

“Am I the one who needs that reminder?” Val drawled.

“I know where you sleep,” I said.

“I don’t know what you think I was implying,” he said without any trace of the smugness that was one hundred fucking percent there.

“I’m just saying keep your MDO active at all times,” I said with a smile, absently tracing a finger over the pommel of my sword.  “Right, commander?”

Abby threw me an amused look and continued.  “Val, we’ve got reason to believe that your targets will be active around the Course of Honor in the days leading up to the Kabidiad.  I need you to compromise as many as you can.  You have discretion of method.”

*

The Course of Honor rose above the surrounding buildings.  Stadiums are the same in every universe—they’re all built to maximize the number of people who can see the race.  There’s only so many ways to solve that problem.  I’d been expecting something like the Coliseum back on Earth, but while I’d been right on the arches, I wasn’t expecting the whole thing to be made from colorful brickwork.  Yellows and greens in flowing patterns made the whole thing look like an art installation, rather than the immanent site of the last Himbo Olympics.

The three guys stopped for a moment to admire the construction.  Their invisible tail stopped too.

“MDO picking up a signature on your right,” I said.

“I’ve got it,” Val subvocalized.  “Always a hair out of striking distance, that one.”

“We could nudge her closer,” I offered.

“Stick to the plan,” the commander interjected.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Markus and Cades were processed by shirtless priests of Kabiades while Val leaned against the wall and observed the proceedings with a detached air.  I’d always found it interesting how the commander vanished into any role you gave her while Val was always somehow himself.  Something to meditate on the next time I worked on my ak ha var.

Three priests scurried across the hallways, followed by the sound of a feminine voice issuing rapid-fire commands.  The voice drew closer, then an obviously upper-class woman rounded the corner.

“Agoura,” she said curtly.  “How many this morning?”

“Three dozen and four,” the priest handling Markus replied.

“Dutiful,” she complimented him.

She looked up at Val, who met her stare with the same bemused detachment he’d used on everything else.

“Insolent man.  Watch your eyes.”

Val tilted his head ever so slightly to the side in challenge.

“I’m a free blade.  If you want to give me orders, pay my fee.”

He smirked.

The noblewoman eyed him up and down.

She smirked back.

*

“You’re not going to have me on ops while he’s seducing people, are you?” I pleaded with Abby.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it feels like to have an erection,” Markus said.

“Why the fuck would I wonder about that kind of shit?”

“I did,” Markus said with a verbal shrug.

“There’s a privacy filter.  Use it,” Abby said.  “Moving on to information ops.  Markus, get Cades to help you spread the story that you’re the only non-compromised candidates in the tournament.  The Merisites will be trying to counter you, so Lilith and I will get ahead of them.”

“There’s no way we beat out the cult of sneaking at a rumor game on their home turf,” Markus said.  “This is a risk.”

“You can only lie so much before you have to deal with the real world,” said the commander.  “In their terms, truth of the hand beats truth of the eyes.  And it just so happens that we have the hand available.”

*

“See that Oathkeeper?” Abby slurred to her new drinking buddy.  “He’s from Vitareas.”

“With the gears?” her buddy said.

“Yeah,” Abby said.  “And the, the lights.”

“Ghostlights.”

“Yeah.” Abby raised a finger, as if about to articulate an important thought.  “Bright there.”  She deflated, the finger dropping.

“Mm,” her buddy said.

“Cult of Silence has been running rings around everyone, you know,” said Abby.  “They’re gonna get away with it.”

“It?”

“It,” Abby nodded.  “But that Oathkeeper Falerior?  Not him.  He stopped them.  Only one who did.”

“Wow,” her buddy said, looking over at the ex-policeman.

Falerior had clearly seen better days, but he was still the affable asshole I’d spent all my time avoiding.  Abby had her comm filtering his voice out to keep track of his conversations, and while he’d started out asking about Salaphi, the rumors about Merisite interference with the Kabidiad had clearly caught his attention.

“I think,” Abby said self-importantly.  “I think, everyone needs to know.”

The commander pretended not to notice as a man behind her stood up, settled his tab, and casually made his way to the door.  He was my responsibility now.

The sound of strumming announced that the inn’s bard was about to perform.  Abby listened with interest to the opening notes of the song.

She’d paid him to write it.

Abby took a drink and I choked at the taste of thick, warm, syrupy blood clogging up her throat.

“What the fuck are you drinking?” I gagged.

“Passable beer,” Abby subvocalized.  “Why?”

“Does it taste like blood to you?”

“No.”

“What the fucking fuck,” I said.  “I need a fucking breath mint.  I feel sick.”

“More conceptual bleed.”  The commander eyed her beer warily.  “You shouldn’t be gagging.  The ops console doesn’t do that.”

“Not for baseline conceptual bleed,” Val commented.  The privacy filter blocked most of his physical feedback, which was a mercy.  “Even at progressive biphase, the effect is too great.  Alcebios has turned her attention on Bulcephine.”

My stomach sank.  “Is that bad?”

“We’re about to kill a god,” Val said.  “Would you prefer the goddess of death find us boring?”

*

“But more importantly,” said the commander.  “We are Eifni operatives.  Beating the enemy on their own turf is what we train to do.  Lilith, if we can get you into the city, I’m assigning you to be Lirian’s handler.”

*

I didn’t bother hiding my vicious satisfaction at seeing the smile wiped off Lirian’s fucking face.

“Forget I’m here,” I ordered her.  “Forget who I am.  I am no one.  I am the voice of the gods in your ear.  You will follow these instructions and then you will forget.”

She was struggling against the blood contagion.  You could see it on her face—she knew something was wrong with her, she could feel Val’s hooks in her soul.  Her eyes struggled in and out of focus, and she kept almost becoming part of the background.  One minute she was standing there and the next she was just part of the scenery.  Your eyes glazed over.

But the first order I’d given her was not to disappear.

“You are somebody,” I’d said with a grin.  Now every time she failed to disappear, there was a delicious look of frustration in her eyes as she glared at me.

“Take this necklace,” I said.  “Can you touch your cult buddies and make it seem natural?”

Lirian nodded stiffly, as if she was trying to force herself not to.

“Great,” I said happily.  “Touch the pendent on the necklace, then touch them.  Everyone you can.  Make it natural.  Forget you did it.  Forget you’re doing it on purpose.  Do it without noticing.  Is this sinking in?”

Lirian nodded painfully again.

“I like you better this way,” I said.  “I was never here.  Stay here for a minute, then forget this whole conversation.”

I turned to walk away, stopped, and turned back.

“Before I go,” I said, considering.  “You know what?  Stick with the classics.  Punch yourself in the face.”

*

“I hope you can use your newfound power responsibly,” Abby said drily.

“I am the very soul of responsibility,” I lied.

“We can try to force her to give up her secrets later,” said the commander.  “We can always get another whisper.  For now, we minimize our interference with her behavior, and focus on mapping the whole network.  Do not access the data until we’re ready.  We don’t know how many of them can tell when they’re being observed.  If they realize Lirian is compromised, they can react.”

“Okay, but what about after she’s gotten a bunch?” I said.

Abby looked at me blankly.

“No more games.  Kill them.”

*

The man from the inn turned the corner and hurried down an alley.  I sighed, disconnected from the ops console, and stretched a bit.  The shack I was squatting in smelled of old, musty liquor and I didn’t care for it.  Time to get some fresh air.

I secured my sword belt as I stepped outside, right as the man approached my shack.

“Yo,” I said.

“Godsmile,” he said, trying to get around me.

I stepped to the side, blocking his path.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, averting his eyes.

“Have you heard the good news of our lord and savior Meris?” I asked brightly.

He looked up at me in surprise.  “What news?”

“Dunno.  It’s probably a fucking secret like everything else.”

My fist caught him in the solar plexus, driving his breath out.  He wheezed, doubling over as I grabbed his head and smashed it down into my kneepad.  He cried out and something crunched.  It wasn’t the kneepad.

I stepped to the side and threw him to the ground, drawing Lilith from her scabbard.   The man was scrabbling to get up, but I stomped on his ankle and levered him onto his back with my foot.

“You’ve got five seconds to rat out your buddies before I kill you,” I said, the tip of my sword hovering under his throat.  “What’s your plan?  Give me something I can work with here.”

“Hands find their way!  Hands find their way!” the dude moaned, squirming in pain.

“Not this bullshit again,” I said.  “Two seconds.  I’m being super generous here.”

“Why?” he asked, holding his ruined nose.

“Time’s up,” I said.

Could I actually kill this dude?  He was… pathetic.  He’d barely put up a fight at all.

On the other hand, Lirian had put up a fight, and look where that had gotten me.

He must have seen the decision in my eyes.  “No no no no—”

I cut.

Lilith sliced through his throat like paper.  His arm was in the way and she cut through that too.