Brewer told us the Xolotl was built to house thousands of people.
Babies…
Generation after generation after generation.
“You’re a vassal,” I say.
Still smiling, Marcus shakes his head.
“Our ancestors were, yes, but that word doesn’t apply anymore. The New People are free people.”
Vassals had children. So did some of the Cherished.
Matilda’s daughter that Brewer spoke of…could she have had kids of her own? Could Marcus Savage be my actual flesh and blood?
Do I have family after all?
“I’m not Matilda. I’m Em.”
“Well, of course,” Marcus says. “Victor told me.”
That name stops me cold. I feel like I’m being pummeled senseless with words and concepts, a flurry of strikes coming so fast I can’t parry or duck.
“Victor…Muller?”
Marcus nods. “Would you like to talk to him?”
I stare blankly. I don’t know how to react, I don’t know what to think.
Marcus takes a step to his left.
A Grownup steps into view.
“Hello, Em. That is the name you prefer, is it not?”
“Sure. That’s fine.”
The gnarled creature shakes its head slowly.
“So young.” His voice is raspy, like that of all the Grownups, but there is a strange tone to it….he sounds…happy?
I’m looking at the ancient version of the boy in my spider crew. This Grownup, “Old Victor,” he has the same gnarled skin of Matilda and Brewer, but it’s lined with dozens of gray streaks—scars. They crisscross his arms and shoulders, mark his face. Some of the scars are ragged, like bolts of lightning forever frozen in time, but others are intricate patterns—carefully planned designs, not the remnants of random wounds.
On his wrinkled black forehead, the ragged gray lines form a circle-star.
“I haven’t seen you like this in centuries,” he says. “You are so beautiful. And your hair…has it really been a thousand years since I touched it?”
A shudder washes through me. That this thing would ever touch me fills me with disgust.
This is all too much.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I say.
“We knew Brewer took an antenna down to you,” Old Victor says. “We’ve been waiting for you to use it. When you did, we cut into the broadcast signal.”
“So you’re not working with Matilda?”
Marcus laughs. “Hardly.”
“I was on her side once,” Old Victor says. He holds up a hand, turns it, showing me the gnarled skin. “I won the right to do this to my body. So did many who fought for her. But I saw the error of my ways and have fought against her ever since.”
I adjust my grip on my spear. I suddenly feel like an idiot, standing here holding it, posturing with it. I want to be in the jungle, with Maria. I want to fight. Fighting is simple. This? I don’t even know what “this” is.
“The New People,” I say. “How many of you are there?”
“Five thousand, three hundred and sixty-four,” Marcus says without a moment’s hesitation. “Including the child that was born yesterday.”
Over five thousand people are still living on the ship?
“Not possible,” I say. “We didn’t see any adults like you when we were on the Xolotl.”
Marcus holds his hands shoulder-width apart, like someone showing the size of a fish he caught. “Say the Xolotl is this big.” He shortens the space between his hands until they are almost together. “You saw only this much of it.”
“Brewer controlled the abandoned section in the prow,” Old Victor says. “That’s where you were. Matilda controls the middle section, which includes the bridge. We control everything beyond that. Until you took the shuttle, we didn’t even know there were any receptacles left onboard.”
I open my mouth to ask him about his own receptacle, then stop. If he’s telling the truth, there’s a possibility he doesn’t know about our Victor. Maybe that’s safer.
I suddenly want Spingate here with me, to explain this. The size of the Xolotl is already beyond my ability to imagine.
“But five thousand people…how can you feed that many?”
Marcus laughs. It’s a delightful sound. I think he laughs often.
“The Xolotl originally supported eight times that many,” he says. “Feeding five thousand isn’t hard. Many fields and orchards have died out, but more than enough remain. And we get meat from cattle, chickens and pigs.”
Pigs. The same kind that killed Latu, no doubt. One pig was enough to feed twenty of my people. And Brewer showed us images: hundreds of cows in pastures, thousands of chickens in cages.
The Wasp troopships we captured. Gaston is trying to learn their controls. Zubiri is studying the fuel they carry, seeing if she can convert it for Ximbal’s use. If either of them succeed, could we fly back to the Xolotl and bring some of those animals down here? Could we raise herds of our own?
I’m getting ahead of myself again. If we can’t defeat the Wasp army, what’s the point of bringing down livestock?
Five thousand people…
“We’re at war,” I say. “We need help. This city is big enough for all of you, for a hundred times your number. Help us fight and we can—”
Marcus holds up a hand, stopping me in mid-sentence.
“Em, the New People can’t survive on Omeyocan. You’re modified to breathe the air—we’re not.”
Marcus and his kind weren’t “created,” like I was. They are susceptible to the same poisons that can kill the Grownups.
But still, so many people…
“The Grownups—I mean the Cherished—they can survive down here for a time with masks. Could you use masks and help us fight? What weapons do you have? We need spiders, bracelets, cannons…anything you’ve got.”
Old Victor shakes his head. “There are few weapons aboard. And no ships left with which to deliver them.”
“But Brewer said there were fighter craft.”
“There are,” the Grownup says. “But they are interceptors, made for space only. They can’t fly in atmosphere. I’m sorry—we can’t help you.”
I had a momentary flicker of hope: more soldiers, more weapons. Old Victor’s words extinguish that flame, leave me even more dejected than before.
“Then we have nothing to discuss. I have a war to win.”
“You can’t win,” Old Victor says. “We know about the second wave of troopships. You need to find a way to come back up here and leave Omeyocan behind.”
Marcus smiles. “We will welcome you with open arms.”
Leave Omeyocan?
Wait a second…that’s what Matilda wants, too.
I finally contact her, refuse her demands, and these two just so happen to “cut in” to her signal?
My anger flares, instant and overwhelming.
“You’re working with Matilda.”
Marcus shakes his head. “No, of course we aren’t! We just don’t want to see you get killed!”
“Omeyocan is my home.” My voice rings with hate, drips with violence. “We’ve bled for it, died for it. How dare you suggest we abandon our birthright!”
“Yes, you have bled.” Old Victor’s tone is that of a soldier who has seen much. “Yes, you have died—if you stay, you will continue to do so. Even if you beat this ground army, another alien ship is coming. More may come after that. I believe this war is not meant to be won, it is meant to be continuous.”
His words echo my own fears. We can win the next battle and still lose the war. And if we win this war, will there just be another? We’re running out of equipment. There aren’t even 250 of us left—we’re running out of people.
“Tell me why the ships come here,” I say. “Why all this war, this killing?”
Old Victor’s shriveled shoulders shrug.
“The scriptures ordained that the promised land would not be given—it had to be earned with blood and sacrifice. That was the message that the Founder received from Tlaloc. The alien races obviously received the same message.”
Tlaloc, the mysterious “god” that called the races here.
Blood and sacrifice…
…god…
…blood…
The God of Blood. If this Tlaloc is real, could it be the God of Blood that manipulated Aramovsky, that enraged Bishop, that caused Spingate to murder Bello, that almost made me kill Spingate? I felt it, guiding me, pushing me. How long can I deny it is a real thing?
“The killing won’t stop,” Old Victor says. “Find a way to escape while you still can.”
No. This is a trick, and I will not fall for it.
“You want me to leave the place I was made for, and come up there so you can hand me over to someone whose sole purpose in life is to wipe me from existence? No thanks. You bastards created us specifically to live on Omeyocan. This planet breathes in our very bones. We’ll beat the Wasps. We will survive.”
Old Victor’s red eyes seem to dull a little. He sags in place. He’s getting tired.
“Omeyocan is a place of forever war. I beg you, Em, believe me.”
“If this planet is so awful, then why don’t you take the Xolotl and run away?”
“Matilda’s power is weakened, but she still controls the bridge,” Old Victor says. “That means she controls where the Xolotl goes. She doesn’t just want you, Em, she wants Omeyocan. She wants what was promised to her. Bring your people up here, together we can overthrow her and we can finally leave.”
Ah…could that be the real reason they want us to come up? They want us to fight their battles for them.
I wish Brewer were still here. Maybe he could tell me if Victor is genuine. But without Brewer, there’s no way to know.
“You’re either a liar working for Matilda, or a coward who fears her,” I say. “Either way, we’re not going anywhere.”
I’m suddenly grateful I hold the spear after all. I thump the butt against the floor.
“We will defend our home.”
I don’t wait for them to spew more lies. I go into the hall and tell Peura to break the connection, to make sure no one but me contacts that ship.
I tell him what will happen to him if he disobeys me.
From the terrified look on his face, I know he will not.
I leave him to his work and set out to find Maria.