Chapter One
For the briefest moment, Delen Kolesov felt warmth bleed through the steel door.
It was a fantasy, of course. A trick borne of some underlying amalgamation of anxiety and anticipation, but he felt it just the same. The Pyre slept, and even if it stirred, he would feel nothing outside the room.
His hand curled into a fist, thumb extended, and traced a crescent along the single metal sheet. Then another. A third. Some prayer or another was meant to go there, but his mind was spinning too quickly to grab at any. He frowned, pressed his forehead to the door, and closed his eyes. A thin hum seeped into his skin. He focused on that, letting other thoughts drown in the vibration. The exam. The burning. The Joining. They went slowly, each putting up a valiant effort, but Aldridge’s ever-present hum was enough. It always was.
Delen retraced the three crescents, letting the bunker’s passive droning stand in for his words to the Ancestors. They had made the place, after all. Its voice said more than his ever could. He withdrew and wiped at the oily mark he had left with the heel of his hand, succeeding only at smudging it across the blue-grey metal. Something else for the Belovs to handle.
Commons called to him through the low rumble in his gut. Apparently, Delen’s stomach knew Rel was on primary duty before his brain. He made a note of it – no skipping today – but knew there was more to do before he could leave.
The hunger focused him. He took three steps back from the door, went first to his knees, then bent over and put his face on the floor. Both thumbs pressed to the smooth steel. He paused there for a moment, recalling the words, then each finger began its slow semicircular path. “Ancestors, by your will we come to this place of homage. Find our needs worthy and accept us.” His face remained on the floor while his hands shifted back and to the left. “Ancestors, by your voice we come to know the merits and power of your will. May you never keep your words from us.” Again, a movement of the hands. “Ancestors, by your strength we come to live without fear of the Great Death. Let us, ah… let us-”
“Hold sacred the body of your work.”
“Hold sacred the body of your work,” he sighed.
“Preparing?”
“Studying.” Delen pushed himself back on his knees, then to his feet. He smoothed out the bottom of his shirt – a useless exercise – then turned toward his friend. “Practicing. I don’t know, it’s all the same thing at this point, isn’t it?”
Ezequiel Ude shrugged. It was a lumbering action, like watching mountains roll across the horizon. Delen had read that phrase somewhere before and seen more than his fair share of videos and still-shots of the landmasses, so he thought it seemed appropriate enough.
“Shouldn’t you be in Field? There’s always a lot to do, for, you know.”
Ezequiel grinned, flashing teeth. “Ahead of schedule. What can I say, I’m extra motivated this time around. I asked if I could take some time and gramps gave it the all-clear.”
“I still need to study.”
“Bullshit. You need to get your mind off the next couple of days, and what better way to do that than to get set-swept and go off sulking to quarters?”
“You’re an ass.”
“But a great one.”
Delen looked up at Ezequiel. At fourteen, the boy was two years younger than him and still stood a full head taller. There was a look in Ezequiel’s eyes, something floating just beneath the surface, and suddenly he understood. “You already talked to Nantale, didn’t you?”
“Caught her on the way to Pyre this morning.”
“She didn’t mention the exam?”
Ezequiel was all teeth. “She tried to weasel out, too, yes.”
“But you talked her out of it.”
He shrugged.
“Ancestors,” Delen cursed. “An absolute ass.”
“Alliteration won’t get you out of it.”
“Fine, but two spoons says you won’t win the set uncontested.”
“Three spoons.”
“You’re going to bed hungry tonight, Ez.”
“Famished, I’m sure.” He hit Delen on the shoulder. “Meet you there?”
“What do you mean, you’re not coming with?”
“You made me second-guess myself. Going to check back in at Field and make sure they don’t need anything.”
“And then Rec, or are you planning the usual loop?”
“Would I set up time for you to be with Nantale and just abandon you?”
Delen glared at him.
“No loop,” he laughed. “I’ll be there.”
Ezequiel disappeared around the first bend. Delen let himself slump back to the wall and rubbed his shoulder. It stung. Ez never did know his own strength. Either that or he just overestimated Delen’s. The latter seemed more likely.
Delen glanced back at the door to Pyre. Hold sacred the body of your work. He frowned. Nine Celebrations and eleven years in Education and he failed to keep even that simple three-phrase prayer straight when it mattered. Ancestors, how was the exam already only a day away?
He turned to face the corner that led away from Pyre back to Aldridge proper. Ez was right, he did need the break. Something, anything, to get his mind off what loomed in front of him. Plus, if Ez had actually talked Nantale into showing up, he did not want to be standing around looking useless when she came out of Pyre’s door. Better to play prepared, even if she knew otherwise.
Aldridge opened as he turned the corner. The single hallway split into two, both then dividing into three which, in turn, each fractured to several more. If one could view it from above, Delen expected it would look something like a spider’s web. Not that he would know, personally. No one had seen a spider in centuries.
He opted for the longer route to Rec solely to avoid passing by Field. If there was any chance Ezequiel had been wrong or something had come up and he was needed back, Delen wanted to be certain he would not be asked to help. Unlikely – what could they possibly think he could help with – but better safe than sorry.
Rec itself was blissfully empty. Katya Belov pulled half a second of attention from whatever game she was playing with her husband to acknowledge Delen’s entry. None of the other five people in the room made any show they heard the door at all. He found the surface farthest from the rest, sat at the edge, and yawned as an angled screen spat out a tailored list of options. He made a show of mulling them over and, after quickly scanning the room, looked himself over in the black, reflective surface. Someone darker looked back at him. Someone who seemed more at home with the rest of Aldridge. He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look at least a little bit presentable, then swiped on a random show and ignored it.
Delen watched the door, a bird of prey with its eyes on a burrow. She was coming. Just another day. Relax. The Ancestors’ Celebrations had continued for more than two centuries unabated. There was no reason to fret this time around.
And yet.
Rec’s door slid open and Delen shot his attention down to the screen. He listened past the unimportant noise it produced to the footsteps entering the room. Too hard to tell, but he had to try. Looking up would mean he knew whoever it was had come in, which meant he had been watching the door. Too obvious. He gently cleared his throat.
“You look bored.”
Ezequiel. Good. After they fell into a Ninety-Nine set, it would be easy to let the distraction keep him loose. Which made for-
“Deep in thought. Three spoons from a Rel day is quite the prize.”
Ancestors, she was there. Delen looked up from the screen.
Yes, the Celebration had been a bedrock of Aldridge’s existence since its founding. Yes, every time the ritual had been the same. Yes, every preliminary aspect for the upcoming one had also gone as planned. But.
Always but.
Delen knew what he was. He knew how easy things came for those around him, how ingrained in society each of his compatriots were. They lived their roles. Breathed them. Ezequiel could till entire swaths of Field in his sleep, and the rest of his family even better. The Onaedos knew Commons like the back of their hands. Every family had their role, and since they could speak, they had been taught to live it. To love it. To breathe it. His upbringing was no different, even if the results were.
Nantale leaned forward, letting her elbows settle on the edge of the table across from him. His eyes flickered to hers then back to the screen. She had known he would do that – of course she had – and met his half-second acknowledgment with full eye contact and a light smile. He had the look memorized. No, that was the wrong term. It was burned into him, like she radiated some violent light that he had stared into for hours. Days. That minimal upturn at the right edge of her mouth, with just enough intensity to pull back the lips and flash a spot of white tooth behind. The way the smile touched her eyes, curving them into picture-perfect crescents like a master tribute to the Ancients. How she would, every so often, purse those same lips to blow back a rogue lock of thick, night-black hair.
Ezequiel settled into the seat beside him. “Still up for the full set? If we go long, we’ll miss the best of it.”
Delen considered it. Ez was right, they were already late for lunch and a full set of Ninety-Nine could run an hour. Everyone else would have had their fill by the time they showed up and what was left over would be cold. Still, he felt the underlying admission there. Ezequiel was giving him an out. A pity offer. They both knew the bet, and obviously Ez had mentioned it to Nantale as well. Ezequiel may as well have slid up beside him and whispered into his ear, “You wouldn’t want to look bad in front of her again, would you?”
Heat crept up his neck and into his cheeks. He could see her just on the edge of his peripheral vision, perched. Waiting. The answer jumped out at him.
“We could just go now and come back later,” Delen offered. “Put the spoons on dinner.”
Ezequiel looked over to Nantale. She pushed off the table. “If eating earlier is on the table, you know my answer.”
“What about the show?” Ezequiel asked.
“The show can wait. I do believe Delen is trying to get me out of watching altogether. He understands you finagled me into this.”
“Only because you were trying to get out of it.”
“‘Weasel out,’ I believe his term was,” Delen said.
She looked at him again, her deep-brown eyes lighting fires under his skin. “I suppose we should bear this in mind when he prepares for his Celebration. Now, then. Shall we?”
She turned from them and walked off toward Rec’s entrance. Ezequiel hurried after her, with Delen trailing behind. He watched his friend catch up to his partner. Watched as they chatted idly, his dark, muscled body moving with unconscious grace through the obstacles scattered across their path. Watched as he touched her, the woman fate and founding law had bound to Delen. Watched as she laughed and put an arm around his waist, her skin making his seem light in comparison.
Logically, he understood that nothing he saw should be a concern. They were friends, the three of them, and Ezequiel treated him in much the same way. Beyond that, there were laws. Aldridge was founded on them and had continued them generation after generation with a rigidity and structure that rivaled its still-unblemished walls. Nantale was his by birthright. At seventeen, she was barely a year older than he, and every older citizen was already paired. Had his father been able to afford to lose him, the situation would have been reversed and he would be hers, taking up her Dieye name and occupation. Often, he wished that was the case. Regardless, the point remained – she was his. There was nothing to worry about.
“Are you coming, or what?” Ezequiel called out over his shoulder.
Nothing at all. Ancestors, how often would he have to tell himself that before he believed it?
“Coming,” he exhaled.
Lunch, like most of Aldridge’s routine functions – an adequate descriptor for most aspects in the bunker – was uneventful. Rel Onaedo performed the bulk of the culinary heavy lifting, managing to add something resembling flavor to the standard midday salad. Delen sat across the table from his friends, spending half of the time looking at his plate and the other half at Ezequiel. They talked at length about nothing at all, a skill well-earned from year after year of mundane lives. Luckily, they knew nothing else.
“Gentlemen,” Nantale lifted herself from the stool, “as much of a pleasure it has been to put off my studies, I really must be getting back.”
“We understand,” Delen lied. There was as much chance Nantale would fail the exam as the Ancestors would reemerge from ash to murder them all in their sleep and reclaim Aldridge as their own.
She wrinkled her nose and flashed her front teeth at the youngest of the group, then made an abhorrent mix of a chirping and chittering sounds.
“Weasel!” Ezequiel burst out laughing. He took a lettuce leaf and tossed it at her as she walked off. She caught it, ate it, and continued on with a wink.
They both watched her go.
“She’s right, you know.”
“Hm?” The world came back into focus for Delen.
“Tomorrow’s a big day. I was kind of an ass pulling you away from your prep. Get out of here, go take care of business.”
“Are you sure? What about the set?”
“Pick a day. You know I’m good for it.”
Delen smiled at that. He finished the last bit of his meal and got up from the table. “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Ez. I’ll see you around.”
“Come by tomorrow before the exam?”
“I’ll try,” he said as he made his way out of Commons.
“Delen,” Ezequiel called across the room. “You’ve got this. I believe in you.”
That made one of them. Still, it was good to hear. Wonderful, really. He smiled, waved to Ezequiel, and left.
He arrived to an empty quarters, just as he liked it. His father was on duty in Hub. The central room and only direct interface with AEGIS, the other longstanding legacy of the Ancestors, Hub was his family’s responsibility. Given that it was just the two of them, that left very little time when he and his father were in the same place. Even less so, with his father also being a member of the Council. In the few minutes a day they did spend in the same room, he invariably found himself wishing they were fewer.
“Welcome home, Delen.”
“You know the plan.” He covered the ground from the entryway to his bed in a few strides, then threw himself down upon it.
“Mostly.” The voice wafted gently from the walls. “Though, guidance regarding the particular topic would be beneficial.”
Staring up at the ceiling, he considered the options. Too many things to cover. Not nearly enough time. “Materials and schematics, probably.”
“Sub- or super-edificial?”
What a great question. “Both?”
“Noted. I assume intra-, inter-, and multi-locational components are to be included?”
“Sure.” He could feel the headache coming already.
“Excellent. Detail the means to identify minR extrapolations in each of Pyre’s six sub-edificial manifolds, regarding both observable and implied throughput.”
Delen pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. “Starting light, I see.”
“Naturally.”
He sighed. No use fighting it. “Give me a minute.”
Somewhere buried in the back of his mind was Pyre’s layout. Aldridge’s entire layout, in fact. He had been drilled on it over and over for years by both Sabina Onaedo, his teacher, and AEGIS. Wire mappings. Duct routes. Override panels and, if necessary, manual switches. It was all in there, somewhere. Hell, if he could find it, though.
He attempted an answer, basing it off his flimsy memory of the color coding around the manifold valve casings and his time combing over AEGIS’ auto-generated health reports. But, given he was talking to AEGIS, the voice and last living aspect of the Ancestors, bullshitting did not get him very far.
Her line of questioning persisted. Right or wrong, the next question or demand was no less intricate. He had a suspicion that the exam itself would be less brutal, and that this was her way of ensuring he was more than prepared. At least, as he stumbled over the correct procedure to “re-assimilate redundant bifurcations in nested AmRac core tributaries,” he sure as hell hoped so.
Right around the dozenth or so query, his mind began to wander. All this talk and worrying about the exam, it was only natural to think about what came after. About the Celebration. About his joining with Nantale. About what came after.
Education was not all schematics and algorithms. There were matters of population, after all. Keeping to the right numbers and ratios. And in learning about those surface-level details, it was necessary to drill into specifics. Oh, had they. When he was made to watch the first video – with Nantale, no less – he thought he might actually melt into the floor and blot out of existence through embarrassment alone. He had never been able to keep eye contact with her before. After, he was lucky to look up from her feet. The thought of approaching her there, in that way, filled him with profound dread. Indescribable. Yet, was there anticipation hiding somewhere behind that terror?
Ancestors, yes. Delen had always known he wanted her, but for his entire life up to that point, the want had been abstract. Things attracted him to her on a level he did not yet understand. The modest craning of her neck when enduring some annoyance. The way her hip curved when she reached to key in steps for him. The way a single lock of hair would slowly, maddeningly roll over her shoulder while she leaned forward to read. That Ancestors-be-damned crook of a smile. All those things and more, only incomprehensible pulls until he understood the joining. The coupling. Everything fell into place after that.
Delen became aware of the silence in the room. He blinked.
“How nice of you to join us,” AEGIS said, a thin veneer of amusement in her voice.
“Sorry,” he muttered, “I was-”
“Distracted, yes. Might I suggest a shower?”
His face flushed. “Yeah, I think that might help.”
The sound of running water sprang forth from behind a door to his right. He ran a hand over his face, blew out his cheeks, and swung off the bed to his feet. Once inside the door, a small panel on the wall leaned forward. He stripped, cast his clothes into the hole and stepped into the water.
“Any special requests?” AEGIS’ voice crept, subdued, from the spigot.
“No.”
Eight square feet of the shower’s wall seemed to change state. The image of metal, the same metal that lined Aldridge proper, blinked out of existence to reveal yet another panel, which in turn began playing a broadcast.
Nantale watched the videos, too. Not only in education, but in her quarters. Alone.
Delen once wondered if the images shown to him by AEGIS were true. She had been made by the Ancestors, after all, and he had seen enough of their works to know nothing was impossible for them to sculpt. Though he knew she was present everywhere in Aldridge, awake at all times, and always watching, it was entirely possible nothing she fed him during his showers was real. None of that mattered. He saw through her eyes, and it was their little secret. No one would know. Certainly not Nantale.
He watched Nantale. Watched as cold panel-light played across her skin while people long-dead did acts of brazen lust upon one another. Watched as her arm moved over her leg and out of view, as it made small, almost imperceptible movements. As her body relaxed, then tensed, her lips thinning to a line while the right side curled into a smile.
The smile did it. It always did. The panel changed back to its metal display and he cut the shower off a moment later. He dried himself, dressed, and went back into the main room.
“There. Can we concentrate, now?”
Delen certainly hoped so. Taking sleep and eating into consideration, he barely had twelve hours left before the exam. Twelve hours, then the worst of it was over. After that there was only one thing left to do.
Burn his teacher alive.
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