Saints of the Void: Atypical (6 page)

Trenna was only displaying her beliefs, and was
admonished so harshly that she clammed up again. She just sat up,
but stayed on her knees, hands on her thighs. She also kept her
head and eyes down. Nes went to her side and stood her up gently
with a hand under her forearm, not allowing her to keep the shamed
position. The girl was on her feet in a moment, and when she dared
look at Dastou again, he didn’t bother hiding his irritation.

Trenna stammered through an apology. “I... I’m sorry,
Your Eminence, I didn’t mean to offend. I...”

“My name is Cosamian Dastou,
not
‘Your
Eminence.’” Dastou said, interrupting. “You may call me Dastou, or
Mr. Dastou, or sir, I don’t care. Anything but some mark of
worship.”

“Y... yes, sir. I’m sorry... Mr. Dastou.”

Nes offered the Saint an unkind stare. Saan, who was
in the injured girl’s periphery, gave him a similar visual rebuke.
Dastou understood, and began to apologize.

“I’m sorry... Trenna was it?” he said, pretending not
to know her name or figured out her birthplace.

Trenna hesitated, but Nes squeezed her elbow for
support. “Trenna Geil, yes.”

“This attack has me a more than a bit upset,” said
Dastou, making sure to keep a respectful, empathic air to his
voice. “I have to ask, though, what exactly are you doing here? Do
you live here?”

“No, sir. I mean yes, but....” Her hands were shaking
slightly.

Trenna looked around again. The rubble, the triage
situation, the injured, the dead. The blood splatters, much of it
making a disgusting mud with the concrete or brick powder on the
ground. All of it seemed to appall her.

“What happened here?” Trenna asked.

The Saint responded, hoping to continue appearing
more personable. “Three men attacked us, and failed. They did all
this to cover their escape.”

She had started to panic, her breath coming in and
out faster, and her eyes unable to focus. This was not helpful.
Dastou had a feeling that she may be the single useful witness at
this scene; they needed her cogent. Nes put a hand on her shoulder,
again doing so gently, trying to keep her from losing it.

“It’s alright, Trenna, it’s over now,” said Nes. “We
just want to know if you have information that can help us sort
this all out.”

She looked at the rectangular badge on Nes’ chest,
trying to figure out if she should listen to him at all. Despite
the kindness, he was not as important to her as the woman who
bandaged her or the being she worshiped. Trenna looked at ground
for a long few seconds, then spoke again.

“The last thing I remember,” she started, “is getting
ready to go out. I got dressed, was about to leave. Then everything
went black.”

She looked up again, making occasional eye contact
with her saviors. Dastou looked toward Nes, who just shrugged. None
of them knew where this story was going, or why she was suddenly
edgy.

“Did you black out during the attack?” asked
Dastou.

“No, sir, before.”

“’
Before?’” Saan repeated. “I’m sorry but,
how…?”

“How did I end up here?” Trenna finished. “I think,
maybe, I was left here to die.”

Nes’ eyes opened a little wider at that revelation.
“That’s unbelievable. By whom?”

“By the ones who did this,” Dastou assumed, answering
for Trenna. “And you’re one of them.”

The surprise on Nes’ face intensified slightly, and
even Saan-Hu was visibly perturbed. Those expressions did not
change when Trenna responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Yes, sir. They’re my people. I didn’t think they
could ever do something like this, but…”

“Who else could the way our world is,” said the
Saint, finishing the girl’s thought when she froze up.

After another few seconds of silence, Dastou tilts
his head at Saan, suggesting she prod the girl to keep going. Nes
saw the signal and moved to the side, giving Trenna space.

“A lot of people are hurt here, or dead,” Saan said
bluntly. “Go on, please, tell us everything you can. You are the
only one that can help us right now. And if you cannot, I’m afraid
this might happen again.”

“Sure,” Trenna said. Again making only fleeting
contact with any of the three sets of discolored eyes around her,
she continued. “Uh, you know the old subway tunnels? They’re the
ones in the main hub station of the city, or what
was
the
main hub. We live there, on our own. We’re not under control or
influence.”

“Really?” asked Dastou, earnestly intrigued. “Is that
why you’re dressed so differently, why you’re so thin?”

“I... yes, Mr. Dastou. We’re disconnected. If you saw
people do this, on purpose, and we happen to be so close to my
home...”

“Then it is very likely your own people did this. Is
that what you’re thinking?”

“I wish it wasn’t, but yes, sir.”

The girl takes in the devastation again before
lowering her head, seemingly in shame. “Please... I didn’t want to
hurt anyone, Mr. Dastou, even if some of the others did. I had no
idea. Let me go, I’ll leave this city and you won’t see me again.”
She was on the verge of tears.

“What? What are you talking about?” asked Dastou
before realizing what she meant. “Look, I’m not going to arrest
you, or kill you, or whatever it is you think I do with my enemies.
You’re just a witness. In fact, you’re guiding us to the tunnels
when we’re ready.”

“You’re taking me with you? But these were my people
probably, should I be coming along?”

“No offense, but you’re not exactly a threat to me.
You’re useful, and I may as well bring you along.”

“Sir, thank you, sir! I’ll be as helpful as I can be,
I promise.”

Saan-Hu and Nes gave each other glances that only
barely held their incredulity. The girl’s enthusiasm to help was
obvious, possibly to make up for the act of violence her people may
have committed here today. Dastou thought the three choices in this
situation were cut and dry. They could bring Trenna along and use
her knowledge as best they can,
if
she has anything to give
beyond the location of those “disconnected” people. Or, hold her
under DSF authority and take her to Davranis. Finally, they could
simply treat her wounds and leave her be. The first choice was the
only feasible one if they were to find out who these terrorists
were as soon as possible.

Terrorists? Where did that word come from? Dastou was
sure it was the right phrase, but he never used it before in any
way. He chalked it up to the Null Bank and let it be.

Nes got the girl’s attention again. “Trenna, we’re
going to talk for a minute, can you stay here for us?”

“Sure, sir, no problem.”

The trio moved away from her a bit, but tried not to
get too far.

“Dee, why would you bring her with us when we come
back?” asked Nes. “She’s got no training for one thing, making her
a possible burden.”

“In addition, she needs time to heal,” added Saan.
“If we can study her for a while, find out why the Social Cypher is
ignoring her, that data may lead us to some discovery of how it
operates. Her healing and our study of her can be best done in
Davranis.”

“Honestly, I just don’t want her too far from me,”
said Dastou. “Even if she ends up giving us nothing more than a
location, I’d rather not just leave her somewhere, even under DSF
protection. This attack is too much of a disaster to reliably
predict anything. You know I take your advice seriously, both of
you, but this is final. She is coming along.”

Saan and Nes’ suggestions really were always welcome.
They were Dastou’s family, his closest allies; he trusted them
implicitly. In this instance, however, just like leaving the
meeting, every molecule in his body was forcing his decision. Maybe
she wasn’t desperately needed, maybe she wasn’t as key to the
situation as he was making her out to be, but that didn’t matter.
All the Saint knew was that, in his head, a voice whispered
keep
her safe
. Dastou’s comrades saw the look in his eyes, and knew
he would not waver.

“Alright... alright,” Nes said. “So tell us the plan
then, if you have one.”

Dastou shrugged. “You know me oh so well. Yeah, I’m
making this up as I go along. First we’re going to head back to the
capital and prepare. Once back in Davranis, Trenna will get a quick
checkup at the Medical Plaza. Nothing overly complex since we won’t
have much time, but she’ll be taken care of. Then, we take the
people we gather in the capitol and head right back here – few
delays beyond waiting for personnel.”

“And how quiet do you want this?” wondered Saan-Hu.
“I assume you want to avoid telling the Stone-State Council.”

“And you’d be right. Small and covert is what I have
in mind. The researchers for the tremor, a three-man squad for
defense, and us. You, Saan, will stay behind to delegate for the
DSF agents while myself, Nes, and Trenna go to the subway that the
girl mentioned. Luckily we already revealed that we take records of
these events for study, so the Council won’t find it strange when
we return with another group. Like I said before, Tryst won’t like,
but with proper security he won’t dare attempt to do anything about
our presence. Are we ready to get going?”

“Sure, bossy-boss,” Nes said approvingly. “I’ll
admit, this makes me glad I didn’t play sick for that shitty
meeting earlier.”

“Me too,” said the Saint, happy to have an odd thing
to figure out that wasn’t himself.

In the pilot bay, Dastou enjoyed watching Trenna as
Saan undocked the Caravan on his order. The big
thump-clanks
each of the four main mooring vices sent out as it was released
made the girl laugh. Trenna was almost giddy with delight when the
traveling headquarters’ engines whined on and colored status lights
started blinking here and there. It was the same type of reaction a
new recruit had when first introduced to the relatively insane
technology of the Davranis Security Force.

The nature of the Caravan – a mobile administrative
center, barracks, and research center – had to be kept from nearly
everyone. Those that were allowed to know, such as the Stone-State
Council, held the secret close. Trenna was witnessing something
grand and barely disclosed.

After unmooring from the embassy and hooking into
rail lines, Trenna was shown the barracks, next door to Dastou’s
office, so she could clean up. She was nearly as impressed by the
size of this space, which could comfortably hold three dozen agents
in a pinch, as by the fact that the whole place could move.

Thankfully, her bandages were all waterproof, because
she took quite a while in the shower, enjoying the warm water and
good soap. And the shampoo, having used a third of a bottle for no
good reason. Trenna was then allowed to raid the barracks for any
female agent uniform clothing that fit her, which wasn’t much
thanks to her slim, undernourished figure.

*****

It took a little over an hour for them to get back to
Davranis, about 4,500 kilometers away. After docking in the
capitol, Trenna Geil was given a short exam at the DSF Medical
Plaza. Since Dastou didn’t need any help recruiting, he let Saan-Hu
take the girl shopping while he prepped. Nes went with them, likely
because Trenna was quite lovely when not covered in dust, dirt,
blood, and grime – and because he’d be bored otherwise.

As the others took some time for themselves, the
Saint was busy looking through his standard preparation scheme for
this type of mission. He didn’t have to, really, but he was
very
excited about what was happening. Not the deaths or the
tragedy, obviously, but just something new that was not easily
controlled. He essentially wanted to be challenged, to be given a
goal that needed achieving with hard work. Most Saints felt that
way after a while, taking actions such as exploring uncharted
territories or infecting themselves with a disease needing a cure
to alleviate their boredom. It was a wonder they were worshipped
far more often than shunned as maniacs.

Dastou was serious about keeping this mission as
covert as possible, and hoped the Stone-State Council might be less
inclined to kick out a bunch of trainees. With that in mind, he
told his recruited agents to pretend to be low-rankers if asked
about their duties. By the time the six assigned agents signed into
the Caravan roster, Saan’s trio had returned, carrying far too many
sacks of clothing to be just for Trenna.

The administrator and the new girl in town apparently
indulged in some female bonding over sizes, shapes, and colors at
every store they could get to in the time allotted. Not having to
pay for anything thanks to an expense account was a bonus that took
Trenna a little while to comprehend. Apparently Nes had given some
good fashion advice, too, and when Saan said so openly the corporal
puffed up his chest like he won some kind of contest.

Two hours after arrival, all the preparations were
complete. With everyone in the Caravan, the Saint took the helm in
the cockpit room above his office, set the destination, released
the vice-locks, and activated the rail engines. Normally he let
Saan or another soldier with specific pilot’s training take care of
that, but this time he wanted to touch the controls himself. He had
to restrain from smiling like a fool as he set the mobile
headquarters back on course for Stone-State.

*****

Turn your head away from the Social Cypher only if
you feel like missing out on a miracle
.

That was an axiom within the Sainthood from long ago.
It expressed how the machine efficiency of mass-hypnotism never
ceased to amaze. By the time the Caravan docked at the embassy moor
again, the afternoon was a little over halfway done, so there was
plenty of daylight left. After Dastou shifted the polarity on his
office window from opaque black to transparent – it was set up to
look like shades being opened to further keep the not-quite-glass’s
properties a secret – the scene outside was almost peaceful. The
streets were clean and almost completely empty of people so that
new concrete poured into damaged sections could dry properly. The
damaged cars were all gone, replaced with new versions of the same,
all parked in the same spots as earlier whenever possible.