_ Hiiro

  It was curious how compartmentalized technology could be. On the voyage here aboard the Stalking Shadow, it had been everywhere. Back at Celio's palace and out at his sea stead, it wasn't as ubiquitous but it was still damned-near. Here on Sophia's street, there were hand pumps for water every hundred or so meters, maybe one house in twenty had a solar collector to power odds and ends, and everyone cooked on ranges burning bamboo charcoal or dried kelp. Air conditioning was as much a myth to people like Sophia as artificial intelligences or the Eldritch or wizards like me were.

  Meanwhile I had more hardware and electronics tucked in my room than the surrounding square kilometer did combined. I barely touched most of it, a technological treasure trove gathering dust while I fell back on the basics. Cameras, datapads and commlinks were just about the limits of my tech-savvy. Besides, they were sleuthing classics for a damned good reason.

  I booted up my datapad and checked in on my little slice of the merc's spy network. There wasn't a lot of info for me. It was out there, I just couldn't see the whole picture over the data partitions. The basic idea made sense, if one of us got captured we couldn't spill what we didn't know. That didn't make it any less annoying.

  From what little I could see, a lot had been happening while I was staking out my best lead. Evander had tried to get a hold of me for some support since I was the closest, said he might be made. If he'd been desperate enough to ask me of all people for help, then whatever was happening was big. Three hours later Alice had sent out the order for everyone to get lost and lay low.

  I didn't like that. Not one bit.

  If something big was going down, I'd be damned if I was going to tuck tail and hide. That may have been my pride getting the better of me but I didn't care. I was sick of being a coward that let other people fight my battles for me. Then again, the order had to have come down for a reason and Alice knew more than I did. What was the worst that would happen if I took the night off?

  A window would close. I might miss my last best chance at getting some real information out of this trumped up mission. I could make all the difference if I only got this one thing right. And just like that, I banished all thoughts of of hunkering down for the night.

  I wasn't helpless. I had powers and abilities no one else did. If I left my gun and comm behind, then I could pass as any other dos Estrelas out for a stroll taking in the cool night air. After all, I didn't need a gun to defend myself.

  With a flicker of focused thought I summoned up my inner flame. It answered like a friendly wolf; warm, comforting and deadly. It was a steady burning glow in my spine that filled me with conviction. I made my preparations, uploaded my daily reports and waited out the clock for nightfall.

  Sophia was waking up from an evening nap as I was about to step out the door.

  "Off to work again?" She asked still half-asleep.

  "Yeah…" I still hadn't told her exactly what I did, but she knew I wasn't from around here and I worked for Celio. It didn't take much effort to puzzle the rest out from there.

  Sophia hadn't bothered to change after eating or tidying up— I even spotted some flecks of paint in her wavy chestnut hair and on her hideous yellow/blue headband. The days were long and the nights were too, but when the suns went down and the orbital stations glowed like a collection of artificial moons, that was when the city really came to life. If tonight was going to be extra exciting, I really didn't want her to get caught up in my stupid problems. She was innocent in all this, and I wanted it to stay that way.

  "It sounds like things might get a little busy tonight. You should probably stay inside." I said as I stood at the doorway.

  "You know I like to do my shopping at night-" She started.

  "I know but please, for me, stay inside tonight. Just to be safe."

  I could see her still-waking mind thinking it over. She read between the lines quickly and nodded with a pout where a smile should have been. I was almost tempted to tell her about the loaded guns I kept in her spare room, but I kept that to myself.

  She was a gentle soul. I didn't think she could use a gun in anger and even if she could, I didn't want to be the one to corrupt her like that. For the sake of her innocence, I had to be stronger than that. It might have been a trick of the light, but I swear I saw another woman instead of Sophia's just then in the gloom. In my memories she whispered, this life makes monsters of us all so go do your job, Cowboy.

  "Okay. You be safe too." Sophia said. I could tell she meant it.

  "We can go shopping when I get back. My treat."

  "I'll hold you to it."

  I made my way down bustling streets in the twilight, navigating as much by memory as by the oil lamps denoting public works. The streets were in their largest flood of the day, the crowds growing carefree as the temperature dropped to into the low thirties— which was considered to be almost chilly by the locals.

  Sofia didn't forbid me from smoking in her house, but I'd only made that mistake once before imposing a little discipline on myself. I puffed on my cigarette as I walked, tobacco mixing with the arsenic smell of burning metals as I closed on my target.

  I passed my usual coffee shop and circled around to the ironmonger's public scrapyard. I knew there was only a skeleton crew doing maintenance at this hour, but if they were here they must has snuck off. I couldn't really blame them, from what I'd heard the work was lousy, dirty and it hardly paid. It was just another necessary, thankless labor that Celio was dreaming to change for the good of the people. There was hardly any rhyme or reason to the discarded scraps, some like items were clustered together but that was the exception, not the rule. Beyond the piles of scrap there were the gates connecting the scrapyard to the smelters— unlocked, just like they were supposed to be. I crept inside.

  The foundry has a volcanic, sulfur kind of acidic reek and anyone else would have found the heat oppressive— hell, even I found the heat a little much, though it made my soul soar as I drank it in. I wasn't sure if it was the fumes or the heat, but the longer I spent here the more lightheaded I got. I kept to the shadows and made a quick sweep of the ironworks. Aside from some slackers playing cards well away from my objective, the factory was deserted.

  The air-conditioned office was locked up at night, probably just to spite the night crew. I jimmied the cheap lock with a skeleton key and let myself in without a sound. The office was a big glass and steel semi-circle with computers overlooking the ironworks through some thick window that kept the heat out. I resisted the temptation to turn on the overhead bulbs, searching in the dark by the dim light off the glowing furnaces as they ran on low power.

  I'd been hoping for a nice stack of papers I could pocket but no such luck. Aside from a few hundred sticky notes with everything from operating instructions to production ratios to office drama, everything seemed to be digital. Irritating as that may be, I still had a job to do.

  I booted up a terminal and (with the help of some nearby sticky notes) got logged into the orders and procurement system. I kicked myself over leaving my datapad and comm behind since that meant I had no way to bulk transfer the data off the terminal. Which meant I had to do it the old fashioned way.

  I called up the recent contracts and started going through them one by one, jotting down names and dates on scrap paper as I did. After a few minutes of tabbing through files, I found what I as looking for. An order for 8,000 stamped out SMGs, for the Crucibab Civil Militia: Counter-Terrorism Unit, by order of Paladin of the Public, Colonel Marcos Heathcliff. I keep digging until I found the shipping address, someplace called Fort Liberty. That was perfect! Actually, it was pretty rotten since that meant Celio still had the army gunning for him and they hadn't given up yet, but this was exactly the intel I needed. Now I could-

  The office lights flicked on all at once, blinding me as I reached for a pistol I wasn't carrying. I reached an arm up to shade my eyes and felt three little puffs of air— two on my arm, the third on my jaw.

  I squinted into the glare, light-headed and vision blurred. I could hear a man whispering but couldn't make out the words. I raised both hands overhead to show they were empty. They felt like lead, getting heavier each second.

  "I wasss geettting…" I started to say, mumbling out the words in a slur. My tongue felt thick and sluggish. I was teetering on my feet by the time I realized they'd drugged me.

  I toppled to my hands and knees, struggling to lift my head and get a good look at my attackers. I reached a hand to wipe my chin and it came away with a viscous, powdery purple smudge.

  I reached for the killing fire inside of me but I couldn't focus. It answered, impossibly faint and far away. Like a lighthouse on the other side of the galaxy. Wasn't going to do me any good all the way over there, damned fickle flames.

  "Is he one of theirs?" A man said as he kept a gun pointed at me.

  I collapsed. The weight of my own body was too much. It was dragging my mind down too. His partner (was there were two of them or was there four?) walked to the terminal I'd been using.

  "He was looking into the shipment. That's all the proof I need."

  I barely felt the last little puff that sent me toppling over the edge into darkness.

  I didn't dream and I didn't wake.

  For a while, I was just sinking in a dark place semi-aware. They beat me, I knew that much but they could have been fluffing a pillow for all the difference it made to me. Eventually, I didn't wake up, but I stopped being unconscious.

  They might have asked a few questions, maybe there'd been a car too. I might have answered with some stupor induced nonsense. I'd been locked in a dim ferrocrete room and roughed up a little. I figured it wasn't much of a beating, wasn't much of anything really. It was all just floaty nonsense for a while. Sure they'd stripped me naked, chained me to a stool and kept me in the sweet spot between being uncomfortable and being in pain, but none of that mattered. I was soaring on clouds with a smile on my face.

  A needle poked my veins and suddenly things weren't so amusing.

  Icy dread flooded my system. My nose was broken, they'd beat me black, blue and every shade in between. The drugs weren't out of my system, everything was still blunted but I realized this was all just foreplay before someone fetched the pliers and knives. I tried to take stock of my situation. I didn't really remember all that much, but I think I was deep underground in some ancient dungeon.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I tried to push through the drug-induced fog filling my brain and come up with a plan. I tried to think! But that was a long road going nowhere fast. The only thing I could think to do was survive. To buy myself time and come up with a better plan later.

  My mind wandered off on me again. I wondered if the suns had come up or if it was still dark out— if Sophia had gone out shopping yet. I guess it was too late to know now. The mercs would have noticed I'd gone missing. They'd come. Maybe to rescue me, maybe to silence me— not that I knew a damned thing in the first place. I tried to focus! Whatever they'd used on me must've been pretty strong, it felt like I'd been here for hours already and the world was still blunt. Nothing had any defined edges.

  There were two men in the room with me. They didn't scream and threaten me, didn't club me senseless over the slightest thing. They were patiently waiting for me to notice them and have enough sense to realize what that meant. I could tell these two were the professionals.

  The first was an older gentleman, every aspect of his face said 'you can trust grandpa, I'm here to help'. He had gnarled, scarred hands poking out from immaculate white shirt sleeves held together by a smart brown vest. It was an outfit I'd started to think of as the Nexo Isla suit and tie. His legwear didn't fit the look though. The khaki shorts were normal enough, but he was wearing heavy, knee-high rubber boots that were mottled with off-color red/brown.

  The other guy looked pretty normal—maybe a little heavier and a lot taller than me, wearing baggy shirt and pants with a pair of sturdy combat boots—except there was something about his face that screamed 'fuck with me and I'll end you.' His expression wasn't particularly hostile, more like I was an unexpected addition to his workload right as he'd been about to call it a day. His resting scowl almost reminded me of Treu.

  The interrogation cell we were all crammed in reminded me of Sato's office all those months ago orbiting a whole other world. There was one heavy door that lead past more goons than I'd been able to count when they brought me in— which could have been anywhere north of two in my drugged stupor. The cell was drab ferrocrete grey accented by butcher's hooks on the ceiling and short-chained shackles bolted to the walls. My captors had a table and some nice chairs to relax in. I had an oblong stool kind of thing, the surface of it was textured like the teeth of a dull sawblade which dug into my flesh.

  I was pretty sure those teeth hadn't been dull when my stool was new. It had been worn down by heavy use, all those unlucky sods who'd been here before me. I wondered how long they'd each lasted before they broke? Focus! I grabbed my wandering mind and pinned it down.

  The older man moved his chair opposite me and sat down, looking me over as a jeweler might a rare find. His partner just glared from the table in the corner. The older man crossed a leg and started speaking.

  "Good evening. No doubt, you're wondering where you are and why you're here. The answer to both questions is quite simple. You are in our custody for questioning and you will remain as such until as we are convinced you have been entirely truthful and forthcoming with us. Do you understand?"

  I tried to glare at him as I kept my mouth shut. I couldn't really feel most of my face aside from an aching throb around my right eye and the sharp pain shooting from my broken nose.

  "Time is running short," The older man continued. "If you don't become more cooperative, things will quickly become intolerable, for you."

  I kept my mouth clamped shut. It was a stupid choice, I knew that. Any second now they were going to see that good cop wasn't getting anywhere so bad cop was going to come over here and start breaking fingers. I already knew I wouldn't be able to hold out once they got serious but pride was a tricky thing. I'd last as long as I could.

  "Allow me to ask, who do you think you're protecting by keeping quiet? Your employers? As you may have noticed, your employers aren't here. Are you afraid of retaliation, perhaps self-incrimination?"

  My wandering mind knew he had a point. I knew I was stuck here and they knew that so long as I was, they could take all the time they needed tearing everything I knew out of me. Why should I bother protecting the mercs? It's not like I actually cared about this job or the outfit or whatever botscat life-debt they were trying to blackmail me with. Hell, Leeroy had already signed off on my death warrant right in front of me. He was hardly an employer worth dying for. But it wasn't as if every merc was a black-hearted bastard.

  I didn't owe the outfit a damned thing, but I could think of a few people I didn't want to betray at the first opportunity. I couldn't let Bim get caught in the crossfire. I had to hold out as long as I could… for her.

  "Are you married?" Suit asked without giving me time to answer. "By the end of our time together, I shall know you more intimately than any lover could. If it helps, you could think of me as an escort. However our time together will not be bliss. You will tell me things that you have told no other living soul, perhaps even things that you yourself have forgotten. Through these revelations, I shall be your savior."

  He paused his speech for a moment. It reminded me of questions I'd once asked as a painter— back when I'd still been confessor and executioner. There was a good chance that if things went poorly, this man would be the last person I ever spoke with.

  There was a clarity to that, a finality that made my life flash before my eyes and gave me the niggling sensation of déjà vu. It made me want to trust him, to like him even. It made me think that if our positions had been reversed, maybe he wouldn't make things harder than they had to be. But mostly, it made me remember that when I'd been on the other side of the gun, I never let anyone walk away without doing what I had to do. I was going to die. Quickly if I was lucky, by a matter of millimeters if I wasn't.

  I wasn't feeling particularly lucky.

  "Make no mistake, you will give me what I want to know. I have broken more men in this very room than you could ever realize in the long years I've been doing this. You needn't concern yourself with that however. The only questions you need ask is 'how painful am I going to make this for the both of us', and of course, 'how much of you you want to leave here with'. Now, let's start with something small. A name. What should I call you, hmm?"

  If I took one step, it might be too late. How much did they already know? Would a name be enough to jeopardize Bim? Celio's might be, but I wasn't so sure about mine. I had to hold out! My eyes flicked away from the older man to his partner. Any second now he was going decide good cop wasn't getting results quickly enough.

  I reached for my inner flame, vainly focusing my mind through the distant pain and the drug-blunted haze clinging to my brain. The killing heat was still off in the distance, howling somewhere in the lightless forest as it made it's way back to me. It was close enough that I could almost feel the faint whisper of heat in my bones. Nowhere close enough for me to evoke though… not yet.

  "Very well then." The older man said, sitting back and relaxing in his chair. "I'll offer you this, two names for the price of one. Ours, for your's."

  That wasn't how this was supposed to work. The thought lingered in my wandering mind. Why would they tell me anything about themselves? Because it didn't matter what I knew, I wouldn't live long enough to tell anyone else. Still… If I could make it out of here, if I could escape however long that might take, then maybe something I learned might be useful.

  "Sato." I lied, but slowly, warily.

  "Very well, Sato. You may call me Diablo and my associate here Mudo." 'Diablo' lied right on back.

  A huff that might have been laughter fell from my lips. Diablo was as good a liar as I was— probably even better. I didn't realize I was smiling until I felt my cheek putting pressure on my black eye. Diablo had brown eyes and they made me remember a joke.

  "You're so full of shit your eyes are brown." I grumbled, chuckling like an idiot at my own joke. It wasn't even that funny but I couldn't keep my wandering mind from being amused.

  "Perhaps," Diablo said, smiling a perfectly normal smile. "But we both learned something from that. Didn't we?"

  Scat! What had he learned from me? Somehow I'd come out losing and it pissed me off. I wiped the stupid smile off my numbed face and shut my damned mouth.

  "Come now. There's no reason we can't behave like civilized men. Of course, should you desire that we act like uncivilized men, I'd be just as happy to oblige." Diablo flashed me a smile that started as apologetic but trailed off into a snarl of fangs as he held it a little too long.

  I believed him. The kindly old geezer act was the sweet sticky sap that baited the trap.

  "No doubt, you're wondering about my name. Diablo is hardly flattering." Diablo said, leaning back in his chair once more. "You see, I'm something of a deal-monger. It makes me happy when everyone gets what they want."

  He unfolded his hands and gave a small shrug in a 'but what can you do' motion. I could tell there was more to it— not that I had any idea what that might be. He definitely didn't share the same obsessive compulsion that Bim had for contracts.

  Just then, it felt like I'd walked through a spider web. Like something gossamer-thin had brushed over my entire body at once. I shivered, feeling a chill around me that couldn't penetrate my feverish skin.

  "Normally, I like to start somewhere small and work from there. A name for a name. Honesty for honesty. A pair of clothes and a hot meal for your employer. As I'm sure you know however, these are trying times. Times like these require a bit of… flexibility. Give me something, anything concrete, and I'll do what I can to make our time together as painless as possible for you."

  He was pleading with me. He was either a damned good liar or he was being sincere, maybe both. They were getting close to out of patience. Neither of them showed it on their faces, but I could feel it in the charged atmosphere. Some fateful decision was being considered.

  I reached for the killing heat. It was close now, like a forgotten word on the tip of my tongue. I reached and reached but I couldn't command it just yet, couldn't feel it boiling in my guts. It would come. I just needed a few more minutes and I could turn this around. I was in too deep playing dumb. My best chance at stalling for time was to double down.

  "I'm told they found you snooping around a foundry. Dangerous work." Diablo noted. "Most off-worlders would find something more lucrative than manual labor."

  I didn't bother asking how he knew I wasn't a local. It was already a big hole in my story but between my accent, the shape of my eyes and face plus the fake Nova-Kyoton name I'd given him, I had no choice but to roll with it. That was the master's trick at the heart of all deception, sprinkling in just enough of the truth that the plausible became the probable.

  "I came from Intatenrup, it's a terraforming project like this planet. I'm… I'm not a well-educated man." I admitted, slumping down as I did. "Manual labor is about the best I can hope for."

  I paused then, giving him time to reach his own conclusions. Time for him to measure my story and try to separate the truth from the lies. While he did, I reached for the fires that had been with me for years. They were nearly here, like a phantom limb about to become solid any second now.

  My mind wouldn't stop wandering off. Memories of my failed escape from the Goodnight Moon resurfaced but I shook them off. Things would be different this time. I had power. If I could take out a guard or two, then I'd have a weapon and all the ammo I needed to get the hell out of here. I knew I could do this.

  A single rap stuck the door and I heard the whisper of it unlocking over the slow heavy pounding of my heart. Someone passed a heavy canvas roll in to Mudo. He didn't say a word as he hung the bag from a butcher's hook and let it clatter open behind Diablo. Mudo just stood beside his boss, a diligent aide ready to hand his master surgeon the needed instruments.

  I couldn't even recognize half the tools on display for me. I saw hammers and a bundle of bamboo splinters. Blades arrayed by size starting at scalpel and ending with machete. An orderly clustered mess of surgical tools took center stage. I could barely guess as to how most of them were supposed to be used. Some cut, some clamped, others crushed or peeled. At the bottom of the roll, in a place of dubious honor, was a pair of long-nose vise-grip pliers.

  My mind ran off with those damned pliers. I struggled to tear my eyes from them. Everything else was a specialist tool, even the various blades and hammers each had their own uses, but those pliers commanded my imagination. I kept reaching for my inner fire but it balked every time I tried.

  "I traditionally prefer starting top-to-bottom when I must work to persuade a subject." Diablo said jovially. "Of course, I'm more than willing to oblige in what you want."

  Diablo held out a hand. Mudo gave him the pliers. I reached for the flames that weren't coming again and again and again. I just needed another minute!

  "I'll make you a deal," Diablo said. I latched on to the words like a lifeline. "I'll let you chose between your big toenails and your thumbnails. If you can't make a choice in the next five seconds, I'll take both."

  I called on the fire that should have been raging inside of me. Pleading for it. Begging. Nothing. Not a single spark answered. The pliers latched onto the toenail of my left big toe.

  "No! Don't!" I bucked on the stool I was chained to, trying to put some distance between us but the damned thing wouldn't move. He already had me. I couldn't get any further from him. I couldn't escape.

  "That wasn't an option." Diablo said, a kindly smile on the old man's face.

  He started to pull. I reached for my fire. Nothing. It had abandoned me and I couldn't focus enough to figure out where the hell it had gone.

  "StopStopStop!" I pleaded, screaming the words. "I'll talk! I'll talk."

  The tearing pain stopped.

  "That wasn't an option either." Diablo said solemnly.

  The tearing resumed. Every nerve from my toe all the way to my brain screamed in flaring pain. The drugs that had been blunting everything gave up the fight. I felt everything, pure and unfiltered. I screamed and bucked and pleaded for him to stop.

  I talked, but it didn't make any difference.