Hera (4 page)

“I can report you.”

“Then I’ll report you for insubordination and
personal attack.”

Sacmis sighed. “They’re animals, Hera. Not
humans. You’re confused.”

Am I?
Hera’s chest ached. After all
the doubting, after her decision to punish the mortals and return
to HQ triumphant and sure of herself, she was exactly back where
she’d started.

What was more, now she knew that Sacmis did
not share her doubts. Sacmis believed in the dogma and did not
question it, believed in the history as it had been written and the
law as it had been passed. Dealing death in the name of a legal
clause, punishing mortals for something they’d supposedly done
wrong so long ago, still seemed fair to Sacmis.

“Enough,” Hera grated. “Drive. We’re going
back.”

Sacmis pressed her lips together and took
again her seat. She checked the systems, then turned the boat
around. The mortals’ raft rocked wildly as they passed by. Hera
resisted the urge to raise a hand in goodbye.

She did not even know their names.

Irrelevant.

In her wet uniform, Hera shivered with cold.
The sea held no fascination for her this time. She stared straight
ahead, thinking. Mortals had helped them, saved their lives and
their boat. Mortals she’d been about to shoot. A child, for Sobek’s
sake. They needed medicine, they said. They were poor. Hera was no
stupid innocent. She knew mortals often died of plagues in the
cities – but that was because they were filthy and ignorant –
right? She knew the Gultur police cracked down on any illegal
action, controlled the market and any insurgence. She knew the
Gultur controlled food and medicine – but with good reason. Mortals
needed guidance.

Right, right.

Reconciling what she’d been taught about
mortals – dirty, cruel, savage – with the man and the boy on the
raft was tearing her apart.

Kind, they were kind.

Kinder than she was.

She would have killed them. They had saved
her.

Gods in the deep
.

The ground was crumbling under her feet. How
could she go on like before with this feeling – this sense that all
she knew was a lie? How could she find out the truth?

In a daze, she saw the city port of Artemisia
approach, tall buildings and spires, the boats docked spewing black
smoke. They never reached them. Sacmis turned the boat and headed
to the Gultur complex and to the patrol dock, her silence galling
Hera, even though she’d been the one to order it – or maybe it was
the dark looks Sacmis kept sending her way.

Hera had a feeling their friendship would
never be the same again.

But that was the least of her worries as
Police Commander Nekut met them at the dock, arms folded across her
chest, waiting for their report. It all depended on Sacmis, whether
she would keep the events of that day secret or not. Hera had no
choice but to trust in her, and so she followed Nekut into the
military complex, past the high walls and the chain link fence. The
guards let them through and they entered the police building with
its freshly-painted walls, boots squeaking on the polished floors.
A group of young Gultur, chattering as they exited a room, stopped
in their tracks and stared. Hera tucked wet strands of hair behind
her ears and looked away.

Nekut left them in individual offices to type
out their reports on their data processors, her lack of comments
unnerving.

Hera turned the processor on and inhaled the
faint scent of disinfectant and mildew product on the desk surface.
Pens and paper were set out for her convenience and she remembered
the yellowed page of her mother’s message.

Then the machine whirred to life and she
entered her password to open a blank document. She glared at the
screen.

No illegal boats. No self doubting. Nothing
out of the ordinary.

Her fingers shook on the white keyboard as
she forced herself to write lie after lie. Went up north as far as
Angon, north of Dakru City. Saw dolphins and a whale. A quiet
day.

No mention of the black pillar, the man and
his boy, or Sacmis’ near death.

Hera sat staring at the text for a long
moment, other words superimposing themselves, her mother’s words –
then she tapped the key to send the report off and waited, palms
sweating, to hear what the commander would say.

Half an hour later, Nekut walked into the
room, her red hair flaring like a fire in the gloom.

“Why are you and Sacmis wet?” Nekut stopped
before the desk, face neutral, hands clasped behind her back.

Hera schooled her features into a matching
blankness. “Waves washed over the boat, Commander.”

“A boring and wet first patrol, eh, Hera?”
Nekut gave a faint smile, the mask cracking for a moment. “Do not
worry, the excitement will come. Sooner or later you’ll catch
illegals and get medals and a promotion. Every time is different.
Soon you’ll find that quiet days are also good.”

Hera nodded, not trusting her voice.

Nekut frowned. “Why is your hair loose,
soldier? Gather it up.”

With a trembling hand, Hera pushed the long,
wet strands out of her eyes. “Yes, Commander.”

“You say you saw dolphins and a whale,” Nekut
said, mellowing again. “I spoke to the fisheries team and we
already sent a whaling boat that way. Good job.”

The image of the mortal man and the boy
flashed before Hera’s eyes and damn it all if she did not feel a
knot of worry form in her stomach. Would they have the time to get
away before the whaling team reached the place, or would they be
shot?

Forget about them.

But her body was strummed like a music chord
and sweat ran down her back.

“Well, get some rest, Hera. I’ll comment on
your report tomorrow. Good job, Gultur.” She saluted, and Hera
saluted back. The Commander had barely left the room when Hera
slumped back in her chair and closed her eyes, sighing in
relief.

Sacmis had not betrayed her. Too scared,
probably, that they’d believe Hera’s word over hers. After all,
Hera was a
hatha
, and had a clean record of obedience.

But what to do now?
Hera rubbed her
face. She once thought she knew. Her future lay ahead, bright and
straight: a career in the police, then the temple, while pursuing
her parasitology studies in the biology department. That was the
plan. That had been her path.

Nothing was clear anymore. Too much gray had
blurred the outlines.

Two other
hathas
walked in, the fine
scales on their necks catching the light and giving them away. They
nodded a greeting. Hera took a deep breath and stood. She needed
fresh air, she needed to walk and think. She needed to see with her
own eyes the mortals’ world, and she’d be damned if she waited
longer.

Slipping out of the offices was easy, but the
guard at the gate was not happy with the idea of her leaving.

“Your transport to Dakru City will be here in
ten minutes,
hatha
.”

“Then I’ll take the next one.”

The guard bowed her head. Sweat trickled down
her temples.
Interesting
. The guard was nervous. Was it fear
or attraction? “You are not supposed to go out,
hatha
.”

She scowled. “And why not?”

“Your education and training are not finished
yet.”

“This makes no sense.” Hera grabbed the
guard’s arm. The other Gultur shook. Definitely fear, Hera could
smell it on the other woman’s sweat. “We walk freely in Dakru City
and the Bone Tower, why not here?”

“
Hatha
, please...” Futilely, the guard
tried to pull away. “You are only sixteen. The indoctrination is
not yet complete and there’s insurgence in the major cities of the
mortals—”

“Now? Here?” Hera released the woman, mostly
out of shock. “Are you telling me I was patrolling the coast for
fishermen while there’s real fighting going on?” Her hands sought
her longgun.

“You cannot go out.” Commander Nekut’s bass
voice, sharp and curt, hit Hera like a whip.

She turned around to face her. “But,
Commander—”

“You’re still being tested,
hatha
.
Being an elite corps is not easy. Proving your loyalty takes time.
You are not to go out in a city inhabited by mortals unless I judge
that you’re ready.”

“I
am
ready!”

“I’ll tell you when you are.”

Dammit
. “Do the police kill unarmed
civilians, Commander? Do they kill mortals without asking
questions?” The words slipped from Hera’s mouth before she could
control herself.

The Commander merely raised a dark eyebrow.
“What are you implying?”

Hera heaved a sigh of relief. So it was not
true. “Nothing, I...”

“Mortals have no rights. They are not human.
They are not
civilians
,
hatha
. They are animals,
older, antiquated forms of life. You have learned about the crimes
they committed against us in the past. They have not changed. We
are the new humans.” Nekut smiled, her eyes kind. “The world is
ours and we must keep the order. Terrorists are threatening the
peace and our police are only investigating and arresting certain
insurgents for questioning. Is that clear?”

Bile rose in Hera’s throat. The medals on
Nekut’s shoulders gleamed and swirled like faint stars. Hera bowed
her head and closed her eyes. “Yes, Commander.”

Yesterday she would have trusted and accepted
her Commander’s words on faith alone. But not today. Not
anymore.

She would see for herself. “I apologize. Of
course, you are right.”

“Once Regina matures inside you, you shall
see.” Nekut’s blue eyes burned now with passion. “Everything will
be clear.”

When Regina matured, special hormones would
spill into her body, changing her behavior, changing her way of
thinking. It was Regina’s blessing.

For the first time Hera realized it was not a
blessing; she would become Regina’s puppet and she could not let
that happen. “I’ll take the next transport back, if I may.”

Nekut patted Hera’s shoulder. “Do that. And
forget all these questions. All will be answered in time.”

Today
, Hera thought as Nekut left the
room.
I want the answers today
.

Chapter Two

T
wo hours later,
Hera was prepared to meet the truth. She had scouted the complex,
taken stock of the placement of security cameras, and managed to
disable the one overlooking the southern fence. Wearing her long
leather coat, longgun holstered at her hip, steel cable wrapped
around her waist, she was as ready as she would ever be. Now she
had to hurry before someone noticed the lack of feedback on their
monitors.

She sneaked around the guard’s cubicle and
found her distracted, having a chat with a pretty
hatha
,
Moira – a dark-haired, slanted-eyed Gultur. Good, no need to engage
Plan B, which included lots of improvisation, shots being fired and
a bright future in a prison cell.

Hand resting on the grip of her longgun, Hera
strode out into the yard, keeping her gaze straight ahead and
hoping she looked like a Gultur with a purpose, which was, after
all, the truth.

Not expecting the gate to be unlocked – and
it looked padlocked even from afar – she turned and headed to the
south side. She eyed the tall chain link fence, which was topped
with barbed wire, and smirked.

This would have been a bloody mess, had she
not come informed and prepared.

Shrugging her coat off, she threw it up and
over the barbed wire, covering it. Grinning, she reached up with
her gloved hands, finding hand- and footholds in the mesh fence,
and climbed up. With careful movements, she gripped the wires
through the thick leather. Once she was sure she would not be
sliced to pieces by the sharp barbs, she pulled herself up and
passed one leg over the wires, then the other.

She was outside.

With a flip of her hand, she freed her coat
and jumped down to the hard cement, wincing at the echoing thump.
The unpainted, concrete wall surrounding the complex stood easily
fifteen feet tall – almost three times her height. She glanced over
her shoulder, making sure nobody had seen her, and took a deep
breath to steady her nerves. Unwinding the thin steel cable from
around her waist, she stepped back. Then she threw the grappling
hook up the wall, pulled on it to secure it, and started
climbing.

She’d done similar exercises on the training
grounds in Bone Tower, but then she was not facing charges of –
what? insubordination? treason? What was the penalty for that?

Forcing her mind back on track, she climbed
higher, the cable scorching furrows into her palms and fingers even
through the gloves, until she reached the top and breathed out.
Artemisia spread in rows of narrow buildings and dark alleys. A
sour stench hit her nostrils.

With no more time to take in the view, she
pulled up the cable, threw it on the other side and quickly
descended until her boots hit the sidewalk.

She was in the harbor suburbs of
Artemisia.

A jerk on the cable freed the hook and she
wrapped the wire around her waist once more. Keeping a steady
tread, she walked into the shadows of an alley, shrugging her coat
back on and drawing her gun. She had only been in purely Gultur
cities before – Dakru City, which was the capital, and Bone Tower,
the sacred citadel. They had tall white buildings, trees and lakes
and temples with carved doors and statues. Flowers bloomed in the
gardens and their scent filled the air.

Artemisia reeked. Hera had even smelled it
from the transport helicopter as they had approached the town that
morning – rotten meat, like a one-day-old corpse, sourness and piss
– but now she gagged on it and pressed her sleeve over her nose.
The buildings, blackened by the soot of dakron fumes, looked
dilapidated and decrepit, their windows broken. The streets were
narrow and filthy, covered in trash – some of it organic but mostly
packages and torn bags. She shuddered when a huge rat ran along a
wall and dived into a gutter.