Ashen Silence: Memory Leak

2. Waster

Clearing customs was never easy, especially when carrying gear. Imperial authorities ran you through every obstacle they could. Bureaucracy like a multilayered puzzle box with a solution that was lost ages ago. Maybe when the gods fell silent. Even its owners didn’t know the answer, leaving only approximate answers to survive into today. Most of them involved putting crystal coins in the hands of the right official.

I had learned to play this game well. However, most of the officials I had worked with at the West Gate Customs had been replaced in the year and a half since I had last ventured out. I knew better than to ask what had become of them.

They basically let Dorian pass through without issue. I had developed suspicions he came from some kind of money or influence. They gave Temperance and Arina a harder time. A high-ranking officer asked them numerous questions.

Temperance was let go first. Members of the clergy faced less scrutiny under the Empire’s pro-church stance. Arina went longer, they figured she was Inerlesian by her look. I stepped in and greased his palm with a 100-piece. When he started asking about why I had an old royalist jacket on, years after we lost the war to them, I added another 100.

He let us pass, and we proceeded to the gate. It was a huge metal structure built into one of the energy hexagons. It was sealed but as soon as it struck noon, a klaxon sounded and the solid wall began to lift. Imperials with guns waved us on and watched for any unauthorized entry or exit from wildlife or people. Before we knew it, they grabbed some caravaners and had them against a wall. We got out of there before they started firing.

There were a lot of differences between a city-state like New Bekton and the wastelands. For starters, once you clear the shields you either need protective rebreathers for the ash-poisoned air, or augmentations that filter your lungs and nose. Second, and what people expect less, is how cold it gets away from the heat of generators. Out into the sunless lands that remained when our world was wounded. You had to bundle heavily, and maybe invest in a personal heater.

Arina seemed used to this routine. Temperance perhaps overbundled for the Spring climate and ended up wearing an extra jacket tied around their waist. Dorian didn’t wear anything besides a form-fitting white bodysuit with some armor plating built in. He tried to hide how much he was shivering.

We rounded the road from the gates toward a line of vehicles guarded by armed constructs and a heavily bundled thickset elek with a red racing helmet. We talked about the weather (bad) and the current season of a radio serial we had both been listening to (good, but not as good as last season). Then I got down to business and told him I needed a car to take us into corplands.

He said he couldn’t do that. I asked how far it could take us. He insisted no further than a given latitude and a range of longitudes. I considered pressing the matter, but it was clear this was as much as I was going to get. I handed him the downpayment and let him take the blood ID from my index finger, to charge me for any additional miles.

He showed us to our vehicle, a bit larger than the standard dust-buggy but it seated four. It was sealed, so we’d be able to sleep in it if we needed to.

I took driver because I was the only one with experience with ground cars. Temperance took the passenger to spread their legs, and the other two got in the back. There was ample space for our equipment, though we kept some up with us. A few guns, some of Temperance’s explosives, and a spherical package that Birdie had handed off to Arina after our breakfast meeting.

She unwrapped it to reveal a purple spore drone. It was covered in white spots, which had earned it the name “Dotty.” Arina powered it on with its control slate and ran it through some paces, moving it back and forth near a visibly annoyed Dorian.

I turned on the radio. Driver’s choice, so I flipped to Dr. Swell’s talk show, on the pirate airwaves. Swell was doing a fan favorite segment Seris Uncovered where he reviewed the audio drama Seris Rising and compared it to historical information about the real early families of the Parathan Empire. Temperance changed the radio to some folk music and shrugged when I glared at them, “I’m a few episodes behind.”

Arina broke the deadlock and swapped to some kind of high synth-driven pop music. She looked pleased. Dorian had headphones on and didn’t seem to really mind our squabbles. I looked at a hand-drawn map posted on the dashboard, and measured where we were. 6 hours to go.

I took us off the main road. Fools took the highway. Any scavver worth her merits had a competent internal sense of the stretch of wasteland they operated closest to. The terrain outside shifted from the outskirts of the city, with its ash farms and refineries, to that liminal space where you’d see the occasional building or compound, to the open wastelands. I gazed out my reinforced window at sulfur marshes, jagged rocky terrain, and petrified forests. Life. Real life. I stared dreamily at a couple of boars fighting over a patch of shrubbery’s gnarled berries. Authentic.

There was a lot of time left before we got there. I glanced at Temperance. “So are you still ordained?”

Temperance looked down at their robes, “Yeah.”

“Any particular aspect?”

“Champion of The Reaper.”

I whistled. “A burner huh?”

Temperance’s brow furrowed. “That’s not what we call ourselves, but my primary duty was to release the souls of the dead.”

“By burning them.”

“Occasionally I have to get more creative, but fair.”

“Makes sense though.”

“What does?”

“I feel like burners tend to have the least scruples about shady stuff. If I see a priest in crime, 9/10 it’s a champion of Our Lady Death.” I made a reverent gesture with my good hand.

Temperance looked at my arms. “So why the simple metal?” they pointed to my prosthetic right arm.

I appreciated people like Temperance, who were forward enough to just ask. It was better than the people who stared and averted their gazes when I looked back. “Ever heard of Nuralis Syndrome?”

“Happens to humans, right? Means chems and augments are like poison to you?”

“Mostly humans, 1/100,000 of us. Genetic. More often chems just don’t work or make me a little sick.”

“Do mechanicals not work?”

“With some really risky surgeries they could, a lot of the prep process is more alchemical than people realize.”

“So why the merc life?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if any of us three are blown apart, shot, or whatever, we can get patched up with a healing potion or some time in a clinic.” They wiggled their fingers. “Only two of these are originals. Seems like you have more to lose.”

I thought for a few moments, “My parents wanted me to play it safe. I was a freshman in college when the war broke out. They moved overseas to get away from it. I signed up for the Royalists as fast as I could.”

Temperance gave me a look. It hadn’t ended well for the soldiers of the old monarchy.

I continued unphased, “I guess I’ll tell you what I told my folks when I signed up. That I don’t think a life lived in fear is a life worth living. Doctors gave me 20 years to live when I was born. I’m 28 now. I can take care of myself. Stuff like this helps me afford that.”

Temperance gave a single “Ha!” and then took a more understanding tone, “I see your point. Guess that’s all we can do.”

I followed the road as best I could in the dim light afforded by the cloud cover. Sure enough, signs warning of private property ahead began to line the roadway. I made a hard right and watched for drones and spotter towers. Corporate territory was well defended and authorized to use force. A privilege they exercised gleefully. I did my best to keep near the border signs but parked us behind a stone formation that hid the full frame of our vehicle.

We disembarked, unloaded the cargo, and I set the car’s safety mechanism. I bent down to the ground and scooped up a handful of ashy dirt. The others looked at me like I was insane when I took off my rebreather and took three deep breaths of the air. It was a bad air quality day, and it smelled like it. It was heavenly.

I touched the rock and held my pendant. I prayed quietly while they waited, though I heard Temperance join in their own prayer. I righted my posture and turned to the crew. The four of us were finally ready to make the run.

These people were entrusting their lives to me. I wasn’t going to let them down. I blew my nose clear of ash and put the rebreather back on. “Alright. Some of you may have walked off-road in the wastelands before. Nonetheless, I’m going to act like it's yours’ first time.”

I started pacing “I am going to lay down three rules that you will obey if you want to stay alive.” I counted with exaggerated finger motions, “ 1. When I tell you to do something, you do it. There will be no discussion, no debate. Obey me. 2. If you see something coming at you that isn’t one of the four people here, you shoot. Corporate soldiers, Imperials, marauders, wildlife, the fucking Helping Hands Brigade, open fire. 3. If we come across a ruin, do not touch *anything*. No matter what you think it’s worth. If it looks like a good haul, tell me. I’ll look at it, and I’ll even let you keep it. That’s how nice I am. IF at any point there is somehow a conflict between Rules 1, 2, and 3, prioritize Rule 1.”

I spun around to face them, “Any questions?”

Nobody said anything. Dorian started walking.

I shook my head and we made our way into the corpland border.

*****

I pressed my back against a half-destroyed granite wall and held up my hand. The voices outside were still talking. Too far and too metallic to make out details. It sounded like bursts of radio static in conversation with each other. Three? Yeah, three voices. I stuck my head out very slightly. Nice armor, armed well, and a mounted turret on their truck. Corporate for sure, couldn’t make out which one. No way we were taking them. I tapped the worn wall with my metal fist. This wasn’t going to hold up against turret fire.

So the next question, what do we do? We could have left out the back and hoped they didn’t see us. Too much open land, and not enough concealing terrain. Taking them out already wasn’t an option. That left wait, but that depended heavily on what they were doing out here. If they were just passing by, why stop here? If they were a patrol, they were probably going to check this structure. So, how thoroughly?

I looked at the rest of the tower structure above us. Early Parathan Imperial as best as I could figure. The solid granite building would give way to blends of basalt and decorative marble later in their reign. There were two more floors, partially exposed by a collapse in the structure. I wouldn’t trust the top floor but the middle floor didn’t look too bad. The stairs went in the collapse, so we’d have to get creative. I made a mental path of things we’d have to climb to get up there. Quietly, if the gods were kind…

One of the metal voices was getting closer. My choice was made for me.

I motioned the others to follow and made my way from a pile of ancient, hardened sacks of grain. Next, I grabbed a rusted wall sconce and used it to swing up to the protruding lip of a column. Then I leveraged myself into an alcove in the wall, and from there I could reach the second floor. I grabbed it, solid enough on this side. Praise the gods. I wriggled my way up and started helping the others following the same path. Arina was almost too short to make the last jump, Temperance and I had to help her up.

We got up just as the patrolman reached the threshold. A gust of wind blasted us from our vantage point. I tried to quiet my breathing, which was amplified through the mask.

We heard him talking, clearly now, “Yeah I heard it too. Sounded like something running around in here. Praise.” There was a quiet that followed, I heard each heavy step of his boots. He got closer to the edge of our floor. Arina was sticking too close, I pulled her back by her legs.

“Don’t see anything. Same empty tower. Orders? Praise.”

There was some second end of the conversation we couldn’t hear.

“Yeah, probably vermin. I’m headed back. Praise be.” The boots began stepping away, then past the threshold. Temperance started to stand up, and I whacked them on the back. I made a down motion with my hands. We weren’t clear yet. I waited until the truck’s combustion engine came to life, and drove away.

I peeked my head out of the window on our floor. “Clear.” Sighs of relief all around. Everyone started standing up. “Careful, I don’t know how much I trust this level.” I tapped the ground with my foot and a stone brick shifted. “Actually, I don’t trust it.”

Dorian stepped off first, with no regard for the drop. He landed like a cat. Fall augmentation? Arina and Temperance went down with a little more caution. I checked around for any unscavenged swag. No use. This place had been picked dry centuries ago. I went down next. It was getting dark outside. I considered making camp here. We were about half a day away from our destination, and we’d have to use lanterns to go much further right now. Too visible.

Scavvers had rules against spending too much time in Parathan ruins. I wasn’t particularly superstitious. I didn’t think the demise of the Parathan Empire was some curse by the gods or anything. At least no more a curse than that inflicted on the rest of the mortals of Vian. There were more… Wait. Something in Dorian’s hand. Something small, metal, pipe-shaped. It didn’t come in with us.

I rushed over, “What do you have?” He looked up and down at the object in his hand. He tried to put it away. I asked again, nearly screaming. “What do you have?”

I forcefully grabbed his hand and pried it open. I shrieked when I saw it. A brass rod engraved with runes that were faintly illuminated blue. I grabbed it with my metal hand and ran outside. Dorian roared after me. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

The rod began to emanate a high-pitched whine. “RULE 3!” I shouted back.

I threw the rod as far as I could away from the tower. It detonated in a huge red flash.

I felt firm hands pull me back and spin me around. Dorian was screaming at me. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT! I FOUND IT! IT WAS ENCHANTED!” He punched me, aiming for my nose and instead jamming my mask deep into my face. I stumbled, confirmed nothing was broken, then I pushed him back. We struggled, I hadn’t realized how much I wanted a chance to knock sense into this prissy idiot. I got him in a headlock for a second, he drove an elbow into my gut. Temperance pulled him back. I went in for a punch but Arina charged into my abdomen, trying with all her might to hold me there.

The anger fizzled, and I looked back at Dorian. I clutched my knees and tried to breathe, “Do you know how to read Serish runes?”

Dorian was trying to catch his breath too, “I took a couple courses in university… one course.”

“Parathan hand grenade.”

Dorian started walking towards it.

I held up my hand. “No telling how many uses they charged that thing with. You’re lucky I caught it before we all got blown to the gates of Atharas!”

He didn’t say anything, just stormed inside.

I called to everyone, “We’re not staying here! Get your things.”