Ypsilon and the Plague Doctor Page 10

  “Do you see me as a fool, Pajak?” she asked him, her voice eerily calm.

  Pajak smiled. “Well, that remains to be seen. So far you have not disappointed, so I can only assume some level of intelligence has brought you this far.”

  “I think I should be clearer,” the Doctor continued. “I’ve done my research on you, Pajak. I know this is a crusade you have engineered for centuries. I also am well aware that you are not the type to share anything with anyone. Let alone a kingdom, as you call it. I know that if I cross you, or you tire of me, or even if you think I serve no use to you, you will try to kill me. So when I say that I am no fool, this is the measurement that I mean.”

  “Very well, and if I may be so bold as to say, you are not entirely incorrect. But—”

  Thunder crashed around them, cutting off the rest of Pajak’s reply. One of his gigantic, tarantula-like creatures - known as an Umar- stomped by, carrying spindles of nesting materials and captured prey. The platform shook under its weight.

  When the creature passed, he continued. “But I can say, so far, I would never dream of it. Our partnership is working better than expected.”

  “Yet still you keep secrets?”

  Pajak raised one eyebrow. “Secrets?”

  “Yes. I know I told you to leave the one called Ypsilon alone. And yet, I hear that you propositioned her. I could sense her unhinged power and volatility; still you go against my advice in secret. Imagine my surprise when I find you having a conversation with our enemy on a platform just outside the battlefront. Tired of me already?”

  Pajak let laughter bubble from the pit of his stomach. His new accomplice was much smarter than he thought. The perfect woman.

  The Umar returned to the platform, this time with a Feithidi corpse and a swarm of mini spiders called Baeg. Pajak knew the Feithidi would be perfect for their final play. Their large, beetle-like bodies would provide a perfect hollow to carry the virus. And the Baeg would heal and bring his dead kleinmasch back to life when things got tough.

  “What you saw was a family affair. It had nothing to do with our mission or yourself,” Pajak said as he walked over to the Umar. He watched the swarm of small Baeg repair the Feithidi and fill its large tank with the virus.

  “A family affair?” The Doctor cocked her head to the side. “How so?”

  Pajak thought a moment. “That’s something that would take quite some time to explain, and we have little of that left. However, I will consider it important information for you to know, if you provide me with an answer in return.”

  “And that is?”

  “I want to see you.” Pajak smiled, taking another step towards her. His heart thumped in his ears at the thought of seeing what his beautiful accomplice truly looked like. “Your face. Who you really are. When we met, I thought you were a Dweller of some sort, but you aren’t, are you? How can I trust someone that I do not know? If you are to know my business with Ypsilon, then I need to know who I’m aligning myself with.”

  Sounds of Pajak’s mechanical creatures working consumed him as he waited for an answer.

  The Plague Doctor rose from her seat. “Very well.”

  Pajak vibrated with anticipation. He had imaged what she would look like, and now he would know for sure.

  A gloved hand reached to the beak of her mask and she gave a firm twist, then pulled. The mask came free and she set it on the edge of her throne. A strange second mask, like a breather, covered the entire lower half of her face. Vials protruded from its sides and a small amount of smoke escaped the connections.

  The mask concentrated the gas around her nose and mouth. The Doctor took one last inhale of the substance before grasping two hooks on either side and pulling the mask off her face. Her dark eyes fluttered as she slowly let out the lingering smoke.

  Bright blue veins stretched across her sickly skin like wires connecting a machine. The sides of her head were shaved, though locks of blue and purple hair jutted from the top of her head, swept back into a tight braid that trailed down her back. Pajak let his eyes roam the woman. How had another Topsider gotten into the Machine?

  The Plague Doctor picked up the smaller mask, put it to her face and inhaled deeply. Her eyes rolled upward, a wave of ecstasy spreading across her face. She slumped back into her throne, placing the mask aside. “Now that I’ve shown you mine, it’s time for you to show me yours.”

  “All in good time, Doctor. It seems we have a visitor.” Pajak turned and walked to the far end of the platform just as a spun pile of webbing dropped to the ground. The Plague Doctor slipped her masks back on and followed Pajak.

  Pajak always loved having visitors. Unfortunately, this one had to be sought out. What a shame, too. He used to be reliable. The visitor better hope he still was. Pajak had missed the sight of prey caught in a web. He reached down and effortlessly cleaved the wires away with one of his many legs.

  A rattled Dweller boy ran out of the cocoon, tripping on the way. Pajak smiled at the fear in his old friend's eyes.

  “And who might this be?” the Plague Doctor asked.

  Pajak picked the boy up, setting him down on his feet. “Ah, this is an old servant of mine. Someone who used to bring me information, slaves, and other such interests over the years. Say ‘hi’ Lupo.”

  “P-Pajak. You’re alive?” Lupo stammered, his eyes flicking from Pajak to the Plague Doctor and back again.

  “Alive and well, Lupo. How have you been?” Pajak asked, though he didn’t really care. He turned to address the Plague Doctor. “This is Lupo. A thief and leader amongst the Backslangers. They are a gang of Dwellers that live within the city of Aparat.”

  “He looks like a pest,” the Plague Doctor sneered.

  “A pest he may be, but even a pest can be useful. Isn’t that true, Lupo?”

  “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes sir, Mr. Pajak, sir,” Lupo corrected himself. “How can I be of service to you?”

  “What I need from you, Lupo, is information.”

  12|Suit Up

  Adal gave a nervous laugh. “For a minute, I was dead-ass worried that those towers were going to shoot us out of the sky.”

  Arija looked out the window of the airship. Captain Silny led over a hundred soldiers through the front gates of Aparat. They destroyed everything still remaining on the docks, the Prowlers not able to make a dent in their giant armored suits.

  “So this Webley guy, he made all this stuff?” Ypsilon asked.

  Arija turned to look at the group of soldiers the captain sent to escort them to Pajak’s jail cell. They were busy getting their contamination suits on and readying their weapons. She looked at Adal, silently hoping he would take this question.

  Adal shrugged. “Basically, yeah. He made everything here and other worlds too. His whole race, that’s all that they do, make stuff like this.”

  “The World Machine is really old,” Arija added. “As are many of the things in here. Webley kept them all in check but, when this war broke out, he got lost. Webley doesn’t stand for killing. He could never kill one of his own. That’s why Pajak does what he does. It’s difficult for Webley to check him on it. At least, it was. Who knows how he feels now.”

  Arija turned her attention back out the window as the ship swayed and rocked. Chains gnashed together as the airship drifted around obstacles and barriers. The squadron of soldiers finished their preparations, and started to make a plan of action for when they landed.

  “You guys think this’ll work and we’ll be able to track where these guys are based?” Ypsilon asked.

  “Likely,” Arija began, this time, not taking her gaze away from the window. “The Kleinmasch are basic creatures. They aren’t too smart. So they’ll leave a trail.”

  A soldier put on his helmet, snapping it in to place. “Given the circumstances and these Prowlers running around, I don’t think any of these things are trying to hide at all.”

  Arija thought about everything she’d seen since they returned to the Machine. Perfectly healthy Dwe
llers had fought, died, then gotten back up. It had to be an infection. That was the only thing that made sense and, if that was true, were she and Adal at risk?

  Restless in her thoughts, Arija stood and walked across the cabin of the ship. The wall was covered in equipment and displays. Gauges and dials warned of various readings, small screens pinged, and tubes demonstrated levels of various fluids that powered the ship.

  One of the soldiers paid particular attention to the pinging radar screen. She wasn’t sure what this ship could do, but it moved like a tanker and didn’t seem to have a lot of weaponry.

  “So, how are things?” Adal asked, stepping up behind Arija.

  Arija jumped. “You mean, other than the heart attack you just gave me? I guess I’m fine.” She paused a moment. “We’re at war with Pajak again, so there’s that.”

  “Oh, so just the normal stuff then?”

  Arija couldn’t help but smile. Adal’s corny humor always got to her.

  “That and I’m fairly certain Kip is going to be murdered by Molly but, other than that, nothing else new in crazy preteen stalker news.” Arija laughed.

  “Well, that’s good. At least we won’t have to worry about her putting a rabbit into a pot.” When Arija cocked her head at him, he added, “You know, since Dwellers don’t kill things… You know, like that movie with that one guy…”

  “Yeah, oh I got it,” Arija lied. “On that note, you ever think that it’s funny how Dwellers don’t kill things, yet we constantly keep getting into situations with Dwellers killing things?”

  “Yeah, that’s weird.”

  A voice rumbled over the loud speaker. “Everyone take a seat. We’re approaching the prison platform. Be ready to repel assault.”

  “Well, there goes the break.” Ypsilon laughed, shaking her head.

  Taking her seat, Arija’s stomach turned as they made an abrupt shift and descended.

  “Not getting anything on the scans, but I am getting a lot of interference,” one of the soldiers warned.

  “It’s this dust,” another soldier replied. “It’s getting in all our instruments.”

  The captain spun the wheel and the boat twisted in the air. “Let’s just take her down easy.” He slammed his foot on a series of pedals until the ship stabilized. The airship shook as it landed on something. A dense red fog filled the glass of the portholes, obstructing Arija’s view.

  Adal pulled out his gun. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Rust storm,” the captain replied. “They happen in these parts on occasion.”

  Arija checked the magazine of her pistol for at least the tenth time since they’d left. Looking around the cabin, she noticed masks with integrated filters hanging from a hook near the hatch. She grabbed three, throwing one to Adal and one to Ypsilon. “Don’t worry, fellas. We can take care of ourselves, thanks.”

  Ypsilon clutched the lever-action rifle she’d found at Webley’s. Adal spun his revolvers around his fingers.

  “Careful there, big guy. Wouldn’t want you taking your eye out,” Ypsilon said, her voice muffled by the mask.

  “Don’t worry, with all eyes on me, there are plenty to spare.” Adal winked at Ypsilon, who rolled her eyes.

  “We get it, honey,” Arija patted his arm. “You’re the prettiest one in the zombie apocalypse.”

  Adal tugged at his shirt. “Man, you two are so snippy today. I feel like I’ll have better luck out there with those things.”

  “After you, pretty boy.” Ypsilon laughed and stepped aside.

  The soldiers lined up on the gangway as it lowered to the platform. Wind and blinding dust blew past the opening.

  Adal stepped away. “Y’all got me messed up. I’ve seen this movie. I’m not about to walk out into that shit-storm first.”

  Arija propped one hand on her hip. “Oh, and I suppose it’s cool for the girls to go first?”

  Ypsilon laughed. “Hell Arija, at this point we can’t send him first. He’s being more of a diva about it than we are.”

  One of the soldiers cleared his throat and Arija said, “Sorry. You lead, we’ll cover the rear.”

  “Right.” The commander turned to address his men. “Keep tight formation, fellas. Scan and check everything.”

  The squadron flipped the switches on their weapons and an electric hum filled the cabin.

  Ypsilon spun her rifle around its lever and chambered a round.

  Adal jerked his two pistols free and cocked the hammers back.

  Arija slid the bolt back on her rifle and checked that a round was in the chamber. She shouldered the butt of the stock and followed the soldiers out as they disappeared one by one into the dust storm.

  Her boots clanked on the gangway as Arija thudded to the solid surface of the platform. The lanterns on the officer’s shoulders did a poor job of lighting the area, casting a dull orange hue over everything they passed.

  Adal came up behind Arija, his voice muffled under the mask he wore to protect his lungs from the dust storm. “How do they know where they’re going?”

  Ypsilon appeared next to Arija. “They’ve probably been here before, you idiot.”

  “Guys. Shh. Who knows what’s out here,” Arija snapped. She stepped around a soldier standing outside the group scanning the horizon. A badge on his suit read “Staut."

  Arija, Ypsilon and Adal passed Staut, coming up on the rest of the soldiers huddled around a mass. As she approached the cluster of men, she realized they were looking at a mechanical suit similar to those worn by the guards at Aparat. Only this suit had been shredded to pieces. The hatchway that allowed the operator to enter had been cut away and the pilot had long gone missing. Several feet away, another suit lay in similar disrepair.

  “What could have done this?” one of the soldiers asked.

  The commander replied, “Nothing I’ve seen before.”

  Adal lowered his pistols and stepped into the group to examine the ruined armor. “Well, maybe this place wasn’t as hidden as everyone thought.”

  “Everyone remain calm and remember your orders. We are to collect information on what happened here. Check the suits. Sergeant Staut, take the civies and survey our perimeter for survivors. Sergeant Staut?”

  Arija turned to where she’d just seen the sergeant not even thirty seconds before. Nothing. “Where the hell is he?”

  13|Beneath The Streets of Aparat

  Molly roared with laughter as Van stumbled for what seemed like the hundredth time on the roof of the medical station.

  Maza huffed an exasperated sigh as she crashed into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under her weight. He let his gaze drift toward his baby sister, her face screwed up in rage as she pushed herself out of the pile of wood.

  Maza twisted in his seat next to the edge of the rooftop. Though he had only been awake a half hour, he was already feeling much better.

  When he first woke up, his head had been pounding and his entire body ached like he’d taken the longest run of his life then jumped into a meat grinder. But Kip had given him some herbal tea he said would ease the pain and give him strength and energy.

  Embarrassment flushed his face as he thought about how he went down. If he were back in Taraveil, this show of weakness would have given one of his crew members the right to take his place as chief.

  He locked eyes with Van, knowing full well it would have been her to challenge him. She probably would have won too. His crew already respected her as much as they did him. She was an extension of him. His right hand. Van was just as strong a leader as he was and, given the opportunity, Maza was sure she would have taken the Tekaha from him. To be honest, he would have let her. What happened to him was unacceptable. The Tekaha chief needed to be the strongest, the bravest, the best.

  Van gave him a curt nod. In that moment, power had shifted in her favor. She knew she could challenge him. Rally the gang. But would they believe her? Would they truly believe that Maza had lost blood? Had almost died?

  “Molly, l
eave her be,” Kip snapped as the one called Molly stuck her tongue out. “The gyrating calipers are not quite syncing together just yet. Let me try something.” Kip padded over to Van. He pulled two small tools from his belt and started to tinker with the components of her new leg.

  Van huffed impatiently while the little machine-boy worked on her leg. Maza smiled. That anger was what the Tekaha used as fuel.

  “I swear to whatever-the-hell you creatures worship, I’m going to rip this thing off,” Van growled, hopping on one foot as Kip adjusted something in the side panel of her leg.

  “Calm down… and… There. I think I got it. Try now.” Kip jumped back.

  Van let out a forced grunt. She looked down at her leg, examining the apparatus like she’d never seen it before.

  Maza let his fingers trail the outline of a large bruise on his side. He pressed against the deep purple area, letting the pain shoot across his body.

  “Don’t worry brother, I won’t tell the others what happened.”

  Maza looked up to see Van standing next to him. The muscles in his jaw tightened but he didn’t reply. There was nothing to say.

  “I have no desire to force you out of the Tekaha. Even though you forced me out.”

  Maza sighed. “I didn’t force you out, Van. If you can’t fight, I don’t have anything I can use to convince the others you’re a valuable member of the team. You know very well they would consider me weak if I let you stay when you have nothing to offer.”

  “Right.” Van squeezed her brother’s shoulder and then turned and walked away.

  Maza grunted. He’d wanted to tell her that she was always going to be a Tekaha soldier. She was born one and she would die one. But he hadn’t been able to make the words come out. If she could just learn to fight adequately with the mechanical leg, he could convince the others to let her come back.

  Maza let his eyes drift across the mechanical city. Coming to the roof had been Kip’s idea. This way, there was space to really work out the kinks in Van's leg. All the crates, large parts, and spare equipment presented her with a basic obstacle course. So far, the tests weren’t working out with the new appendage Kip built for his sister, but he didn’t know what she expected. Kip was a child. A very intelligent child, but still just a child. He had hoped Van could overcome this herself, but he didn’t have high hopes that Kip would be able to do anything.