Chapter 6

BLACKWOOD AND THE SCIENTISTS

They were picked up by an APT Rambler – a vehicle so old, it still had a loudly rumbling engine from the days they’d used axolot biodiesel from Dhavnakir. The fact that they’d had to pull out war equipment from over ten years ago wasn’t a good sign. Blackwood sat up front with the sergeant who’d collected them, holding her beret clamped over her aching gunshot wound. She just wanted to close her eyes, but the sergeant yelled over the roaring engine the whole way back, apologizing for taking so long to pick them up. He said they’d uprooted a cell of saboteurs the day before, planting explosives at infrastructure sites, and a brutal firefight had broken out. One of the bombs had gone off, taking out a water treatment plant and destroying half its supply. Added to the water shortages they always battled during dry season, panic had broken out; even now, soldiers were piling into transports to help quell the southwestern quadrant, which had been the first to have its rations cut.

Blackwood tuned him out and glanced back to check on Holland. The deckman had gone pale and silent, probably still shaken by either his encounter with the assassin or his reprimand from Blackwood. His eyes took in the damaged statue of a soldier half-obscured by fallen wreckage, the tank traps and anti-infantry barricades bristling with barbed wire in the FCB’s plaza, the sliding iron gate with the sharply bent corner, the ragged brick wall and dark archways. That wide-eyed gaze, so similar to the one he’d had on the boat, reminded her that young and stupid was sometimes just young and scared out of your mind. His reckless behavior earlier that day didn’t change that; everyone handled fear differently. At least he hadn’t frozen or run away, the way she’d heard some new recruits did. But not obeying orders…

I have to get this kid straightened out, she thought. If he does that again, we’re gonna end up losing a good sailor.

Between the lateness of the day, finding a medic to dress Blackwood’s wound, and the general chaos in the wake of the rioting, Blackwood and Holland were given two cots in a cleared-out office and told to report to the underground lab first thing in the morning. They were also given two clean dark brown uniforms, infantry-style, along with a couple of barely-heated slivertail breast patties seasoned with snappy pepper, and a handful of freeze-dried vict bars. The bars were made of cactus mash and bean paste – a recent recipe Blackwood wished the military had never discovered, despite food shortages. Blackwood watched as Holland choked his way through the heavily spiced bird, taking gulps of tepid water often. Small town tastes, no doubt, unused to the spiciness of Ellemko’s food. The vict bars were left untouched. Blackwood stuck them in her trouser pockets for later.

A soldier was posted outside the door, “just in case they needed anything.” Blackwood privately wondered whether he was supposed to keep them in or others out. She was almost too tired to care. Although the Main Sun hadn’t yet sunk, she collapsed onto the bunk, still fully clothed in her naval dress uniform, and passed out instantly. It seemed she’d only been asleep seconds before Andrew was banging on the outside of the submarine again.

Mila! Don’t abandon me! Please!

She gasped, opening her eyes to blackness. The painkiller she’d been given had worn off, and the stab of pain in her bandaged bicep was excruciating. The dekatite brand, on her other arm, tingled as if it had cut off her blood flow. On the opposite side of the room, Holland slept, his breathing long and deep. Blackwood’s ponytail was a hard knot under her head. She reached back and pulled the band out.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep didn’t return. She found herself thinking of Vin, and the dekatite chain. What had he been thinking, to risk all their lives like that? The sergeant’s news about saboteurs struck an uncomfortable chord there. Could Vin really be such a thing? He’d been with them for two years. But she supposed spies could be planted at any time, and could lie dormant as long as necessary. If it was true, he’d failed, and he’d pay for it.

She thought about Andrew, and mentally wrote the beginnings of conversations should she see him again. Most ended after a couple awkward moments with her saying she hoped he was well and she had to get back to the base. I’m sure it’ll be true, anyway. The scientists’ approaching tests seemed almost better than trying to fill his terrible silences. But then her mind turned to the scientists themselves. What were they going to do? She pictured them cutting the mark out of her arm, severing muscle and nerves, chopping off Holland’s hand… She shivered. If it’ll help protect our parents’ research, it’s worth it.

She realized Holland’s breathing had changed and he’d shifted position on his cot. He was whispering, too quiet to make out any words, almost too quiet to hear at all, except for the abnormally quiet office space. Blackwood listened for a moment, but heard little more than the hitches in his breath. She turned to her side.

“Holland?”

He fell silent abruptly. “CSO,” he finally said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No. I couldn’t sleep. What were you saying just now?”

“Just… just talking to my mother. It’s nothing.”

“Your mother? You talk to her?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is she still alive?”

“Don’t know, ma’am.”

Blackwood raised her eyebrows, surprised. “How long have you been on your own?”

“Um. A long time, CSO. At least ten – ten years.”

“You were a child,” Blackwood said softly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you have something in common with my brother and I. We lost our parents at a young age, too. I was eighteen. Andrew was twelve. I raised him on my own for the next three years.”

“Fifteen, ma’am?” said Holland after a few moments. “You left him when he was fifteen?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Did he have relatives staying with him?”

“N- No. He was old enough to take care of himself. I only made things worse by being there.”

“Is he still around?” asked Holland.

“Yes. I told him I’d try to stop by. He lives here in Ellemko. Maybe I’ll introduce you. You’re almost the same age, you’d get along.” Not likely. But who knew? He’d seemed to hit it off with that Dhavvie kid down the street four years back. Even with the increasing tensions between their countries, Blackwood had been sorry when the kid had to move back. He’d drawn Andrew out again when nothing else worked. He’s probably in the army now, fighting to take Belzen away from us. Maybe after they’ve taken us, he can get in touch with Andrew again. She snorted under her breath.

“CSO?”

“I think you’d be good for him,” she said. “Someone closer to his age, with a similar past. You can show him it’s OK to move on. To live a life outside the shadow of grief.”

“Sure, CSO,” said Holland, his voice cautious. “I’d be happy to.”

Blackwood sat up, wincing at the stab of pain in her bicep, and glanced at the dark sandpane in the far corner. “Bet it’s right around half-light. I swear, that early morning shift is in my bones now.”

“Could be, ma’am.”

She found the infantry uniform on her cot, still folded. “You already changed?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, let me get dressed, and we’ll head down and get this over with.”

“Ma’am?”

“We were told first thing in the morning. Come on, Holland. When things seem overwhelming, getting back in control is half the battle. You have the stones to chase a sniper into a building, you can handle some scientist looking at your hand.”

“I… I guess you’re right, ma’am.”

“Stick by me,” said Blackwood, pushing herself to her feet. “I won’t let ’em hurt you.”

She prayed to Xeil it was a promise she could keep.

“Well, I’ll be sandblasted if you ain’t the child of Carrie and Owen Blackwood!”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.” Blackwood did her best to extricate her hand from the overeager scientist who greeted her and Holland just inside the lab. Rows and rows of stone-varnished tables lined the room, glass vials stacked neatly in racks in each one’s center. Each table had a faucet at the end opening over a tiny sink. Despite the earliness of the day, four students, barely out of secondary school, worked in aprons, pouring colored liquids into beakers or holding pots over small flames. The air smelled astringent and sour. The lab was lit with old galvanized power, old enough to hum loudly through the warm air.

“I’m Doctor Nadia Zurlig.” The woman twisted her long, red hair into an impossibly neat chiffon on the back of her head in seconds flat. The broad smile hadn’t left her freckled Atrarian face. “I worked with your parents, Mila! Fact, I met you when you were no taller than a pygmy poke. Back then, you were ’bout as prickly as one too, if I recall.”

Blackwood smiled politely. “Sorry, ma’am, but I don’t remember.”

“Your parents were good folks, Mila, good as I’ve ever known. Only reason I wasn’t with ’em the day they… well, you know the day… was that my own young one was sick at home. Timmon, you remember ’im?”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“He’s workin’ the train yard now, pulling all-night shifts. I bet he’d remember you. How’s your brother?”

Blackwood cut a quick look to Holland. The other sailor was looking around the lab, head still but eyes moving to take in every detail, as if he’d be quizzed the second they left. Blackwood had never seen anyone as aware of his surroundings as this kid. She suppressed a sigh as she turned back to Zurlig.

“He’s fine, ma’am, as far as I know. I don’t get back to see him much.” Gently, she tried to steer the conversation to their reason for coming. “Were you contacted about… our situation?”

“Of course. Follow me out this way and we’ll grab Doctor Marson. We have a separate lab we use for–” she glanced back at the seemingly absorbed students as she headed out the door, “–the special projects.” She whistled under her breath as they headed down the hall. “Just think. Your parents working with the early R&D for shrouding, and now here you are, six years later, with some trials of your own. ’Spect your parents would be proud.”

She glanced back again, and then paused as she noticed Holland in Blackwood’s wake. “This guy’s with you, then?” she said with a jerk of her thumb.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Blackwood. “Apprentice Deckman Holland. If not for his help, I’d be dead now.”

Zurlig grunted. Her streak of friendliness was gone, as suddenly as that. She stopped at a door and pounded on it with her fist.

“Marson! Up and at ’em! The sailors are here, and there’s a war on. No time to waste.”

“Coming.” A man pushed the door open, thinning hair brushed over his dark scalp. He pushed his spectacles up onto his head as he came out, pushing his neat hair strands into disarray. His eyes lit up at the sight of them. “Is it true? Dekatite? In your skin?”

“Marson,” Zurlig growled, “save it for the lab.”

Marson fell into step beside Blackwood as Zurlig led them the rest of the way down the hall. Dutifully, he kept his mouth shut until Zurlig had unlocked three sets of locks on an iron door at the end and thrown the light switch. They walked into a cavernous room, walls and ceiling covered in crisscrossed steel bars. The room was so long, Blackwood could barely see the other side. Although a combination of galvanized and arphanium lanterns lined the ceiling, the arphanium crystals were absent from the globes.

The galvanized light, though, gleamed off tanks, military trucks, a few small aircraft, and even a midget sub and a stack of torpedoes. The northern and eastern walls of the room, including the corner, were made up of rock, rather than steel. The lab had been built right up against a mountain, and the reason was obvious; swathes of dekatite had been uncovered, until monstrous expanses of the dark gray and silver stone sparkled in the artificial light. Blackwood realized they must shroud from one section to another during their experiments. Every vehicle in the room was probably outfitted with arphanium pipes. Blackwood couldn’t help glancing at the torpedoes. She hadn’t heard they were testing nonpiloted vessels yet. But the benefits were undeniable. Send one of those through and they wouldn’t even need to risk a life.

Zurlig closed the door behind the four of them, locking it for good measure. “Let’s see what you got.”

Blackwood pulled the uniform’s right sleeve up, exposing the lightning streak of dekatite branded into her arm. Beside her, Marson sucked in his breath. He put out a hand.

“May I?”

“Go ahead, sir,” Blackwood said.

Marson ran his fingers over the thin strands of deep gray, sparkling metallically, that ran between her wrist and forearm. Blackwood didn’t feel anything at all; it was like the dekatite wasn’t even part of her skin. The tingling that plagued it hung deep underneath, in her nerves, too deep to be affected. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Holland peeling off his left glove for Zurlig. She couldn’t see anything from her angle, but Zurlig bent over it, eyebrows raised.

“They’re quite different, aren’t they?” she said. “Yours, Mila, looks like a streak of lightning came right out of the vein and into your skin. Your associate’s, on the other hand… there’s a circular design here, sort of, distorted a bit. Almost like they were different… creatures… that struck you. Or different phenomena.” She held Holland’s hand flat with both her own, splaying his fingers so wide that Holland grimaced. “Did you feel anything?” Zurlig asked him.

“Something grabbed my hand, ma’am,” said Holland. “And then, right after, there was a shock. Energized, like a galvanized jolt. Blackwood was thrown. She lost consciousness.”

“But not you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Has anything happened since then? Away from the shrouding?”

“Just a tingling,” said Blackwood. “No pain. No… creatures, nothing like that.”

“Tingling,” said Marson. “Like an energized shock? Under the skin?”

“Maybe,” said Blackwood.

Zurlig released Holland’s hand. Holland quickly folded his hand back to his side, but not before Blackwood caught a glimpse of a curved dekatite line against his palm, a little thicker than hers. The shape of the boat itself, maybe? No. She could almost put her finger on it… but Zurlig broke in before she could follow the line of thought any further.

“Was there dekatite on the boat?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Blackwood. “One of my deckmen.”

“With you at the time this happened?”

“At the time of the accident, yes. At the time of the markings, no.”

“Was it someone you knew well?”

“I… I thought so.”

Zurlig nodded. Her gaze lingered on Holland for several moments before she turned her attention back to Blackwood. “There was one experiment that resulted in a marking similar to yours.”

Blackwood’s heart leapt. “That means–”

“And in that one case, we were able to shroud the subject without any sort of protection afterward.”

“No protection?” The bottom dropped from Blackwood’s stomach. “But I’d heard no one had successfully shrouded without shielding and not been killed.”

“That was the only time,” Marson said from behind her. “We’ve tried replicating it other ways. Suits, for example, but we could never go that small with arphanium pipes. And simply holding arphanium resulted in horrendous deaths, even when we did put a suit of metal on individual soldiers. But sending soldiers through by themselves is something we’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

“But what about the mark?” Blackwood asked. “How did it happen last time?”

“During shrouding,” said Zurlig. “Same as you. The subject who received it was the only survivor in that group.”

“And then afterward they were able to shroud… unshielded.”

“Indeed.”

“And then what? Where is this person now?”

“Gone,” said Zurlig.

“You mean dead,” said Blackwood.

“It wasn’t connected to the mark. There were… other circumstances.”

“You mean the factory accident? The one that killed my parents?” Zurlig just stared at her, unblinking.

“How long after this experiment did that happen?” Blackwood said sharply.

“You know I can’t talk about it.”

“Just tell me if it was connected.”

“Respectfully, Officer Blackwood, you need to stop asking. It is not within your authorization.”

Blackwood’s breath was speeding up. This was different than the building anger she was used to. There was a seed of real fear in there that she hardly recognized. She tried her breathing exercise anyway. Three deep breaths. My anger is the enemy. Not…

She couldn’t stay focused. Her thoughts burst out before she could stop them. “This is insane! I was afraid of you cutting us up, but making us shroud without a scrap of protection? I saw the bodies in Desert Crab’s first accident – they were torn up, mutilated, like a nest of cleaving scorps had torn them apart!” She pointed at Holland, who stood frozen, watching. “If not for the two of us, every sailor on that submarine would be dead. And this is how you repay us? By forcing us into the shrouding realm unshielded?”

She hoped desperately she was wrong, and that she’d somehow, miraculously, jumped to the wrong conclusion. But Zurlig broke that hope with her next words.

“I’m sorry, Mila, but in these times, it’s worth the risk. Those of us who worked with Scicorp Industries have reason to believe we can’t leave marks like these uninvestigated. Please. Try to trust me.”

“We’ll give you a single crystal of arphanium,” said Marson. “It should allow you to pass.”

“But aren’t those the times that resulted in horrendous deaths?” Blackwood protested.

“Not in people marked as you are.”

“One person,” said Blackwood. “You only mentioned one person. A person who died shortly afterward anyway. You don’t actually know that we won’t die.”

“That’s why they’re called experiments,” said Zurlig, an edge of impatience entering her voice. “Seeing whether you survive your first unshielded trip into the shrouding realm is only the first step. It’ll just be long enough for you to give us a good report of your surroundings. To see if the dekatite mark draws any creatures, and whether they seem hostile. You’ll be in and out before you know it.”

Seeing whether you survive is only the first step. With those words, Blackwood realized the horrible truth. They didn’t care. Despite Zurlig knowing her as a child, despite everything Blackwood had done for the Belzene military, they were more concerned with using those marks of theirs. Maybe they wanted them to survive the shrouding realm without protection – but they didn’t necessarily expect them to. They were more interested in the outcome of the experiment than in keeping either of them alive.

And her duty, as an officer in the navy, was to offer up her body to those ends.

Zurlig, seeing the despair in her eyes, softened. “You don’t have to walk into the dekatite right now, Mila. We can take this one step at a time.”

Blackwood nodded, swallowing. “OK. Yes. What’s the next step then?”

Zurlig turned toward Holland. “We’ll see how it affects your colleague, and make adjustments from there.”

Panic flashed across Holland’s eyes. His gaze flitted from side to side as he took in the huge space. Trapped. Blackwood’s fists clenched at her sides, and she started to speak. But Holland beat her there.

“What if I refuse?” he said, raising his chin. “Will you force me? Like a war prisoner?”

“Refuse to help your country, when you’re given the means?” said Zurlig coolly. “I’d have every right. If you don’t cooperate, it makes you either a coward or a traitor, and neither is something we need in our armed forces during wartime.”

“I’ll do it!” Blackwood spat. “You’re not touching him.”

Zurlig turned her head, a brittle smile on her face. “I have no doubts about your willingness, Mila. That’s not the issue here. I want to know whether your colleague is willing to help.”

“You’re saying you don’t trust him?”

“In past experiments, we had more luck with some people than others. Holland’s experience during shrouding – then and now – may differ significantly from yours; and that will tell us something. If your experiences are similar, that tells us something, too. At the moment, I’m not speaking of trust. I am speaking of the willingness of each of you to help us. If you are willing and he is not… well, that tells us something, too.”

Blackwood gritted her teeth. “Give me the arphanium crystal. I am Holland’s commanding officer, and he’s not doing anything without my permission. I’m taking point on this.”

“I need to hear it from Holland,” said Zurlig, still staring at the young man. “This is important. I need to know whether he’s planning to refuse.”

For several moments, Holland glared at the scientist. “Give me the crystal,” he said.

“I won’t allow it!” Blackwood said immediately.

But Marson had already gone to a table in the back and was bringing over a length of crystal pipe, sharply cut, hollow, and glowing with a faint, inner light. Marson held it out to Holland. Holland took it with his unmarked hand, hiding the marked one by his body. Blackwood stepped forward.

“Let him do it, Mila,” Zurlig said.

Blackwood glanced in her direction – and froze. The scientist had a pistol trained on her. Blackwood had never even heard her pull it.

“You are soldiers,” Zurlig said. “Your job is to do as you’re told.”

“I want to speak to Admiral Farring!” Blackwood demanded. “Before this goes any further!” There was a buzzing in her head, making everything feel surreal. The tingling in her skin had magnified, so her whole forearm seemed to vibrate with it.

“That’s not an option,” said Zurlig. “We’ve been given the go-ahead on this from a higher authority than your admiral.”

“The go-ahead on killing us.” In a sudden flash of clarity, Blackwood saw what was going on. “You think Holland is a traitor. You think he was responsible for what happened. That’s why you feel OK about experimenting on him. Why you’d force him into it.”

“I don’t know that Holland was the traitor. But I do know a traitor was involved. Given everything you’ve told me, he is a very likely suspect.”

“That’s a load of kaullix shit!” Blackwood bit out. “He stood by Mahanner and I when we fixed that breach. He was up there with me! He–”

“He was holding something,” Zurlig cut in, “in his hand. Most likely dekatite.”

“I told you, it wasn’t him with the dekatite! Are you going to accuse me of having dekatite, too?”

“Mila, think about this reasonably…”

Pins and needles shot through the mark in Blackwood’s arm. She felt heady from trying to make sense of everything, and the weight of her responsibility for Holland was overwhelming. They hadn’t been there; they hadn’t been drowning in a freezing torrent of water, holding up a patch keeping the entire ocean and Xeil knew how many otherworldly monsters from breaking through, and knowing that without Holland’s help, their strength would fail and the whole crew would be killed. They hadn’t been through the first accident. They didn’t know.

Breathe! Keep it together! One deep breath. If they kill Holland… Another. Nadia Zurlig is not my… But she was. Holland was going to die, and it was her fault.

Blackwood’s third breath faltered in the same moment that a bolt of lightning shot from overhead, searing her eyes and sending a surge of scalding heat through the room. Blackwood only realized what happened because she was watching Zurlig, and she saw the scientist crumple. Thunder erupted through the lab, so loud that glass shattered. Other bolts hit too, lighting up the room around her. The flashes seared through her retinas, blinding her. Blackwood was barely conscious of her body tipping in disorientation. She felt the rough surface of the laboratory floor slam against her right side. The scent of burning and sulfur was so overpowering, it almost made her sick.

When her vision broke through again, in patchy flashes of strangely lit shapes, the first thing she saw was a jagged scar of broken concrete, zagging out from between her hands.

What? Lightning hit us? How in the…?

“Mila!” someone called feebly.

Zurlig. Still alive. Blackwood looked up, pushing herself to hands and knees. She crawled, though her elbows threatened to give out every time she put weight on them. She was shivering violently, mostly from adrenaline. She wondered if she were injured somehow, but except for the gunshot wound, she didn’t feel pain. Just a hammering heart and a shaking body; a head so light, it felt it might drift away at any moment. Not far from losing consciousness, she thought. Fight it. Where was Holland? She tried to call out, but her voice didn’t come.

“Mila…”

Through the smoke, she saw the scientist. The woman’s eyes were closed, the skin around them blackened, even gone in some places. Bone showed through over her right cheekbone. Blackwood felt nausea collecting in her throat, and choked back the urge to retch. But she didn’t stop until she was at Zurlig’s side. She sat back on her knees, putting her hand on the woman’s tattered sleeve.

Zurlig moved at her touch. “Mila?”

“Yes.” Blackwood’s voice came out hoarse, barely audible.

“This happened before,” Zurlig gasped out. “Your parents… the factory…”

Blackwood sucked in her breath. “The accident? It was… lightning? Like this?”

“Yes. But I thought… circumstances different. From the wall… but no. Her.”

“Her? Her who?”

“Idyna Larine Onosylvani.”

“Onosylvani? The Dhavvie woman who requested amnesty?”

“Yes. President Wixxer gave her to SAI, for studying. It was because of her…”

“The lightning?” Blackwood said when she didn’t continue. “Because of her?”

“Yes.” Zurlig’s voice was softer now, so she barely breathed the words. “Because… Dhavnak… the monsters… it was key. But the assassin… that Dhavnak assassin…”

“At the lab? That’s where it happened? But I always thought…”

“Yes. As you were meant to.” Zurlig looked up at Blackwood with her closed eyes. She tried to speak three times before she got the words out. “She was Dhavnak.”

“Yes. I know.”

“The monsters…” She shuddered again, gasping. Her breath came out in a rattle, and was never drawn back in. Zurlig was gone.

Blackwood sat back, feeling ill. Her own government had experimented on the Dhavnak woman who had come to them for protection. This was the big secret Zurlig had held back from telling her. But it hadn’t been what she was trying to reveal at the end. It was very important to her that the lab subject was Dhavvie. What did it mean?

“CSO?”

“Holland!” Blackwood looked up. Only a single overhead light still shone, and even that flickered erratically. An overturned table toppled to the floor as Holland pushed it off. His face was blackened along one side, with the bloody edges of a scrape showing beneath it. He looked at Blackwood with wild eyes.

“Marson’s dead,” he said. “And that – whatever that was – it wasn’t an air raid. The scientists were struck. Targeted.”

“Targeted?” Blackwood said. “What do you mean?”

“The way they were pushing you, you trying to protect me, them alone being struck, the… the tingling…” Holland swallowed, his eyes pinned on Blackwood’s. “I know it sounds crazy. But I think you did it.”