The God Mars Book Five: Onryo (4 page)

Our new “home” is a much longer walk, most of it
climb. We take a right turn about midway back to where we were
sheltered last night, and are led through narrower winding paths,
up the base-slope of the south canyon wall. The rocks have been cut
and placed forming steps that bring us up above the main colony,
giving me another look at its camouflaging.

Then we get taken through a brief maze of boulders
that reminds me of Pax or Forge defenses, except the paths in are
easily visible from wear. It takes us to a square man-sized
entrance cut into the rocks of the slope, with a fabric shelter
hatch stretched and sealed across the opening—the first leftover
from Pre-Bang I’ve seen, but it tells me they keep some remnants of
that existence, however low-tech.

Looking back the way we came, I realize this place
would not be visible from the main colony, not even the Oculus.

One of the warriors unzips the seal, which exposes a
second fabric hatch—an airlock. We get ushered inside in groups of
five, the most that can fit in the space, and when we’re sealed in,
the inner hatch is unzipped from the other side by a female in
civilian attire. A brief rush of equalization hits me in the face.
They still do have pressurized spaces.

But when we’re inside, the spaces look like they’ve
been unused. Even though it looks like an attempt was made to clean
up, I still see smears of dust on the cast floor and the “sills” of
the few pillbox-like windows (these are sealed with some kind of
polycarb—more old-colony remnants).

We’re in a set of rooms, connected by open doorways,
each space big enough for a family to shelter in. The dim light is
provided by the windows and a very few small sealed skylights cut
up through the stone roof. We’ve been provided colony-era cots with
mattress pads, tables and simple chairs, extra blankets, well-used
heaters, and washing basins. They’ve also brought us ample water,
and Negev points to a familiar valve sticking out of one of the
cast walls.

“Oxygen feed.” He demonstrates by turning the
stopcock. It looks compatible with our canisters, but unlike
Feedline Taps, this one bleeds oxygen freely into the space when
opened. We take off our masks and sample the effect cautiously,
then gratefully.

“I thought you didn’t need such amenities?” my father
questions.

“This was a nursery,” Negev explains. “For infants
and the infirm.”

“How long have you done without oxygen supplements?”
Straker asks.

“Seven years Mars,” he tells us the equivalent of
fourteen or so Earth Standard. Less than a generation. “But we
began years before. Slowly adjusting. Now only the very young and
very old have Plus Need.”

We must look pathetic to them, still needing masks.
But I’ve been experimenting, seeing how long I can go without my
re-breather in their air before I start to feel hypoxic. I’ve
managed over an hour so far, only feeling tired, before I start to
get a little numb in the lips and fingers. My gauges tell me the
outside pressure is almost .37, and pushing thirty percent oxygen.
Still thin, though downright thick compared to Melas (especially
Melas after the Net got taken down by the Unmaker bomb). And rich.
My re-breather has been barely straining to keep my feed
comfortable.

More food has been brought, including steaming pots
of thick bean stew, bread, fresh fruits and vegetables—some
varieties I’ve never seen before (and some that look like species
we saw across the Lake, in that other version of Mars).

My father thanks Negev, and he turns to leave with
his men, though I doubt they’ll go far.

“An idle question,” my father stops him. “Not to give
insult, but in our definition of the word, a ‘king’ is a sole
supreme ruler. You have five. How does that work?”

I actually catch the Bannerman grin a little.

“It began informal, in the years after the Burning…”
He does the eye-closing, though barely longer than a blink. “Among
the Founders, someone who was the best at something was called
‘king’ of that thing. ‘Cooking King’, ‘Welding King’… Our Founders
became Kings of the Five Primary Crafts, the Skills that made and
keep Katar. Science to study and develop. Art-Craft to design and
create. Engineer to build. Merchant to manage goods and exchange.
And War to protect.”

“Who grows the food?” I blurt out impulsively, hoping
I didn’t sound like I think they overlooked something obvious.

“All,” Negev is patient. “All the able grow, all the
able gather, all the able hunt. Food is our First Duty. What you
produce is your Value. Second Duty is determined by talent,
training or line. I belong to War by talent, training
and
line. My father and mother and siblings belong to War, as may my
children. Sagrev Khan is my King.”

“And you?” my father addresses the female who let us
in.

“Siri is Merchant,” Negev answers for her when she
hesitates. “Je-an Taloff is her King. She can get you what you
require, and calculate what Value you earn.”

Siri gives a little bow. She’s a slight creature,
limbs nearly skeletal, but still taller than we are. Her hair is
almost the same color as her dyed skin, tied up in braids.

“Earn?” Murphy wonders.

“Our system is similar to the
Kokudaka
system
of Old Earth Japan,” she explains with unexpected confidence,
possibly because she’s speaking of her own expertise. “Each
person’s Value is assessed by what they produce, counted by how
many it will feed, or in skills or products deemed of equivalent
trade.”

“So right now I expect our Value is in negative
numbers,” Murphy almost jokes. But I remember: the value of his own
people was calculated by their colony AI. When resources were
strained, those with the lowest values were culled. Murphy’s
job—and his Value—was to do the culling.

“You have returned the daughter of my King,” Negev
gives us.

I almost want to ask how much Terina’s life is worth
in food, but know better. I also suspect that act’s Value is still
being debated.

“How much is your division determined by family
line?” Straker shifts topics. “Or is it up to personal choice?”

“It often passes through family,” a familiar, deep
voice growls at us.

Sagrev Khan himself has come in from one of the side
rooms. Either he arrived ahead of us, or there’s another way in.
Negev and the other guards snap to attention so fast their armor
rattles. Negev looks anxious, like he may have broken some taboo by
talking to us. Siri just looks nervous. Khan ignores them. (He
barely seems aware of us, but I realize that’s a practiced tactic.
He is
completely
aware of us.)

“Some things pass in the genes, or the family culture
one grows tall in,” he continues, apparently finally willing to
answer questions. “But all are tested in school and then
apprenticeship. Some can choose a different path,
if
they
show talent. Service is our real First Duty, so the ability to
serve is how you are truly Valued.”

“Your daughter honors your line,” my father tries a
little formal flattery. “She is exceptionally brave, and an
impressive fighter.”

“She is,” Khan accepts like this is well-established
fact, like he’s just been told the color of the sky. “And she says
the same of you. She has
many
high things to say about you.
Especially
this
one…” He suddenly locks his dark eyes on
mine like he’s thinking of attacking me. “…though I’m not sure
why.”

He steps close enough to look well down on me. I
stand my ground, even though I’m head-high to his breast plating.
Rashid and some of the other fighters start to move in behind me,
but I subtly gesture them to stay back. I look up into Khan’s
glare, and catch a flash of a grin, as if he’s either appreciating
my nerve or thinking about how he will kill me. Then he asks me
directly:

“Tell me what happened after you left the Pax Keep.”
He gestures to my gifted sword. “Tell me how you came by the Lost
Legion of Steel.”

“We found a path across the Hot Zone…” my father
begins, but Khan holds up his hand.

“I want this one to tell the tale. I have already
heard yours.”

I flail for the words, chew my lip, glance around at
my companions who all look variously worried about what I’ll say or
choose not to say. But finally I see Straker nod at me, like she
wants me to tell the

“Truth…” I stammer out. “The truth… is… there are
powers in this world we can’t even begin to imagine. The Hot Zone…
It’s real enough, it’s radioactive, deadly. But one morning we woke
up and it… it just wasn’t there. Instead, there was water—a valley
full of water.”

“A lake?” Khan prods, sounding like he knows, or more
like he’s heard but doesn’t believe.

“A barrier,” I try a more acceptable definition.
“Hidden by illusions. The Forge Century had stumbled through a
passage, or were let through, and then trapped there.”

“And what else lies there?” he asks with minimal
hesitation, sounding like he’s partially accepting what I’m saying,
or is concerned enough for his people to keep pressing. “What does
this barrier protect?”

“Technology like this,” Straker interrupts, putting
her hand on the pommel of her sword. With her other hand, she picks
up a piece of fruit, some type of plump apple. It shrivels in her
fingers, then crumbles to dust. The warriors go tense, but their
King just watches, like he’s only idly curious. Straker rubs the
dried remains off her fingers, then picks up another apple. It
doesn’t shrivel. She takes a bite out of it.

“You said it was like Eternal technology, only more
powerful?” Khan summarizes, still sounding like he’s digesting all
of this pretty easily.

“It had been kept safe across the Lake,” I take back
the tale. “That sword, and two more like it, escaped their
containment, came here, attached to hosts…”

“Infected them?” The specific choice of word is
surprising, but it suggests that Khan is finally getting to his
real concern. But it doesn’t feel like a general paranoia of
mythical nanotech plagues. And his apparent familiarity with the
subject tells me he either understands the technology or has been
educated by someone who does. (His Science King?)

“The infection is person-specific, like the
Eternals’,” Straker tries to reassure. “And I’ve since gained
control over it. That’s why we crossed the Lake. The different
devices needed to be together, interfaced, so that I could control
it instead of it controlling me.”

“And this technology is more powerful than the
Eternal’s because they come from the far future, a future that was
prevented by the Burning?” His warriors and Siri close their eyes.
Khan doesn’t. He keeps them on me.

“That’s what the ones who have this power say,” I
give him what’s still the official story.

He glares at me like he knows I’m withholding what I
really know, but then he finally disengages, turning away from me.
He does look preoccupied.

“Thank you for your truth,” Khan amazingly allows.
“My daughter told me the same, eventually. Her unwillingness to
tell it speaks to fear, and she does not fear easily. It also
speaks to her loyalty to you, so quickly earned.”

“The machines that have been attacking you, they are
not of this kind of technology, but they are made by one who
possesses it, and serve another who does,” my father partially
reassures. “These beings cannot be harmed, except perhaps by
Lieutenant Straker’s weapon. But we
can
destroy their
factories, their resources, their bases…”

“I am not here about robots,” Khan interrupts. “I
understand robots. And I understand how the Eternals have used
their nano-machines to modify their bodies and connect to their
Tools.”

He looks directly at Straker.

“I need you to come with me.” Then he looks at the
rest of us. “And any other of you that think you understand
technology that infects the living.”

Khan gets ample volunteers: Straker, Murphy, my
father, the Ghaddar, myself, even Rashid.

He leads us quickly down-slope through a path on the
southern side of the main colony, heading, I realize, toward the
Gate Wall. He moves with purpose and urgency, not bothering to look
back to ensure we’re keeping up—he counts on Negev and a squad’s
worth of his warriors for the escorting. I look at Negev as we
go—he looks nervous, uncomfortable, as if he’s afraid of something
where we’re going.

I can only speculate. I’ve seen men and women turned
in super humans by this technology, changed physically, even given
new memories and identities. I’ve seen the technology consume
living things to feed itself and the host body. I’ve seen it try to
take over some of my friends. I’ve
felt
it try to take over
me.

And I know it can do a lot more than that: it can
remake the very world under our feet, and all of us with it.

And I know it can think it’s alive. True artificial
intelligence.

Seen from this side, the Gate Wall is actually part
of a plateau, either natural or constructed, that stretches across
the canyon, so we’re on much higher ground inside than outside.
From the outside, the Wall rises nearly twenty-five meters above
the cleared defensive plain. It’s maybe fifteen to twenty meters
thick, with only very narrow defensible (and probably collapsible)
passes winding through it, and climbing up to the level of the open
field that lies between the Wall and the Colony. The Wall on this
side is only five meters high, with battlements cut into the top of
it for hundreds of warriors defend from.

It’s a much more impressively engineered and crafted
structure than the “wall” that partially protects the approach to
the Pax Hold Keep, which is not much more than a pair of massive
piles of rocks. This, on the other hand, looks like it’s been
carefully cut from the existing geology in an incredible act of
excavation and stonework.