Authors: Wesley Chu
Sure, there were downsides to things. He was living in Third-World-colony conditions where the electricity was intermittent, everything was filthy, and the food absolutely sucked, but this was the exact sort of situation that forced his genius to stretch and challenge itself. There were so many things demanding his attention and so few waking hours, literally, especially since there wasn't enough electricity to waste on something as mundane as keeping the lights on during the day.
On top of that, Crowe and Elise had given him nearly free reign to recommend any modifications he felt necessary for the All Galaxy building. In this case, Titus's list was easily over three hundred to-dos long, from implementing a new elevator design to a wired communication system to a new irrigation system. It would take him two lifetimes to fix up this old behemoth of a building to his highly-exacting Titus standards. He was going to be dead before he even got through a twentieth of the list, but he was flaming going to try.
Right now, he was working on a couple of things at once. The Nation had recently returned from the attack on a Co-op outpost and brought back a host of goodies, including a useful large-scale one-way shield that Titus was still taking apart and examining, and several large mounted guns that were meant for combat ships. Both items could be modified for their fight against the Co-op. This shield thing would work wonders along the northern barricades and these large cannons could be mounted on carts for a little heavy firepower. It just required a little tinkering on his part to adapt it to their needs. He whistled as he fiddled around with this amazing technology. Some of this stuff, the military tech especially, was hundreds of years more advanced than from his time. He felt like a dog chasing a thousand balls; he wanted to dabble in everything.
“Hi, Mr. Titus,” Sasha piped, bounding into his workshop, flanked by James Griffin-Mars. The Elfreth had given him his own work space on the forty-first floor for his mad experiments. He preferred it because it was close to the dining hall.
“Hello, child.” He beamed. “And how is my most important patient today?”
Titus had taken a shining to Sasha, not just because she was the main reason he had been given an extension on life, but because she reminded him of his favorite great-granddaughter, whom he missed terribly. Part of him wanted to look up his family tree and find out whatever had happened to his descendents. The wiser part of him knew it was probably best he didn't know. For now, he was content in transferring his affection to this precocious little girl.
“Better,” she said. “I'm not as tired all the time, but my throat is still always itchy.”
“How is she sleeping?” Titus asked.
“Still wakes up a few times in the night, but less than before,” said James.
Titus studied the chronman and then averted his eyes. James looked tired. His eyes were red, his skin was unhealthily spotted, and his face looked bloated. Titus, standing next to him, sniffed. There was gossip among the tribesmen surrounding James lately. It seemed much of it was true, however faintly. Titus had a sharp nose. In any case, it really wasn't any of his business. He still felt like the outsider here and, frankly, he was more than a bit uncomfortable with the adoration some of these wastelander people heaped on him.
Titus patted the stool next to his table. “Why don't you sit here, girl, and we'll take a look.”
For the next twenty minutes, he checked Sasha over, pulling up her vitals and taking another sample of her blood. There was no easy cure for Terravira mononucleosis, especially given where they lived. The best he could do was give her antibiotics and nurture her immune system along until it could fight the constant bombardment of this environment. Fortunately, all signs pointed toward recovery. When he was done, Titus patted her head and gave her a piece of rock candy he had synthesized from one of his experiments. He smiled when she took a hesitant bite of it, and then her face lit up.
“She needs to be in cleaner quarters,” Titus instructed James. “Also, limit her exposure to the animals for now. I know she loves them, but it should be temporary.”
“What about her work in Elise's lab?” James asked. “Should she stop?”
“That should be fine. There's probably less Earth Plague in that lab than there is in the rest of the building, but make sure she takes the proper precautions and scrubs up just in case.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” James said, putting his arm around his sister's shoulder.
“Hey.” Titus leaned in. “Did you, um, talk to Grace for me?”
James nodded. “I did. She says you're too old for her.”
“We're practically the same age. At our years, does it matter?”
James shrugged. “She likes her men young.”
“Flaming fuck.” Titus scowled. He looked down at the girl. “Sorry.”
“Hey, guys, sorry I'm late,” Elise said, hurrying into his workshop. “I'm telling you. These chiefs are driving me crazy with their insane demands. For some reason, it's gotten into their heads that a camp's proximity to the All Galaxy is an indication of the tribe's importance. There's a large Co-op force moving in from the north down the west side of the island and all they can argue about is real estate.”
“We just finished,” James said.
Elise gave Sasha a hug and looked at Titus. “How is she doing?”
He nodded. “Much better.”
Elise's smile grew from ear to ear. “Great, I'm so proud of you, girl. Ready for lunch?”
As the little family turned to leave, Titus tapped Elise on the arm. “Could I take a few moments of your time? I have some requests I'd like to show you for my workshop.”
“Can you just relay your needs to Rima? She'll help address them.” Elise noticed the look on his face and turned to James. “You two go on ahead to the mess hall. I'll meet you guys there shortly.” She and Titus waited until James and Sasha had turned the corner and were out of sight. “What's up?” Elise asked.
Titus wasn't sure how to broach this, so he just decided to spit it out. “I think our chronman has a substance abuse problem. He needs help.”
Elise's face melted a little at the news and she sighed. “I know.” She sat down and buried her face in her hands. “You're not the only one who's talked to me about it. I don't know what to do. There's so much going on right now. I'm stretched so thin.”
“It's getting worse,” Titus said. “I've only been here a little while, and I see it. At one point, you're going to have to make the call for his own good. Put him into some sort of rehab program or something, even if it's against his will.”
“How do you make James do anything against his will?” she asked.
“By making him realize what's more important,” he said gently. “In his case, he's going to have to want to get better, but at some point, you might have to force his hand and make the hard choice. When that time comes, be ready and be strong.”
“You ever have experience treating ⦠problems like this?”
He shook his head. “Never, but I'm sure between Grace and me, we'll figure it out.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Titus. The Elfreth appreciate all that you've done for us. I don't know how we can repay you.”
He grinned. “Getting me more pillows is a good place to start.”
“Done.”
“And maybe convince Grace to go on a date with me?”
Elise made a face, and then without another word, left the room.
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The three kids didn't look anywhere over ten, but Elise couldn't be sure. They had just run into the Manhattan war council's forward operations center on the ninth floor of a former hospital on Fifty-seventh and Eleventh to report the latest updates from the main force. A sizable Co-op patrol had been noisily making their way south down Columbus Avenue over the past two days.
Reports from survivors fleeing the rampage were that they had already razed five small tribes and had enslaved a medium-size one. Elise and the six tribal leaders with her intended to meet them with three hundred Manhattan defenders, as the individual tribal fighters now collectively referred to themselves. Proudly, she might add. She thought that sounded much better than the originally proposed name: Manhattan mights.
All the defenders still held on to their individual tribal affiliations, be they Elfreth guardians, Flatiron fights, Lenox legionaries, or the Yorkville schnauzers. Elise was pretty sure the Yorkville tribe had no idea what a schnauzer actually was, and she didn't have the heart to tell them. Though perhaps it was all intentional, because their tribal chief's title was the Giant Schnauzer.
That was the way it was here in the wastelands. There were a thousand different tribes with a thousand different dialects, standards, and names. One of the advantages she wielded over the other chiefs was that her comm band allowed her to understand and speak fluently every single dialect. This was probably the main reason she led the Manhattan Nation. Some of the chiefs had taken to calling her the Mist Queen, while others wanted to give her the title of Main Hattan. She thought both sounded ridiculous.
The children stood at the entrance to the war room as Elise and the rest of the war chiefs surrounded a table holding a map of the nearby blocks. She saw the orange and green markings on their cheeks, and Elise tapped Giant Schnauzer Kamyke's shoulder. “Are they yours?”
Kamyke looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Report, Karol, Kris, Knick. Don't just stand there. Come in.”
That was also another thing about that particular tribe that Elise found interesting. Everyone's name started with the letter
K,
for whatever odd reason. She had asked Kamyke about that the first day they had met and he had acted as if it was something that never crossed his mind. The Yorkvilles were definitely one of the more eccentric tribes, that was for sure.
Karol, the older girl, whispered into the ear of Knick, the younger boy, and urged him forward. Looking nervous, Knick walked in and made a shy bow. “All the schnauzers, fights, and big-ones are in place. Yiora says the Co-op have set up camp on the thirty-second floor of the Upper Kaufman Center.”
“Thank you, brave Knick,” Elise said. “And thank you both as well, Karol and Kris.” The young boy stood still, a silly grin on his face as he blushed furiously. Kris had to walk into the room and, putting his arm around his shoulder, lead him out. Elise looked disapprovingly at Kamyke. “How old are they?”
“Karol and Kris are nine. Knick is seven and training under Karol. They are doing their duty for the tribe,” said Kamyke.
“Why are we using children as couriers and lookouts so close to the front line?”
“All the couriers and lookouts are children. The older ones fight or farm. The younger find a way to make themselves useful,” said Kamyke, “In the Mist Isle, every soul has a role to keep the tribe strong. For children like Karol and Kris, being chosen is a great source of pride. They also think it great fun.”
“But is it safe?”
Kamyke shrugged. “It is safer than if the Co-op defeat and enslave us. Besides, I once saw little Karol kill a lai snake as large as you, Mist Queen, with nothing more than a rock the size of your fists.”
Instinctively, Elise looked down at her fists; they were tiny. She had seen lai snakes in some of these buildings. They looked like boa constrictors on steroids with heads on both ends. Kamyke was probably right, though it still troubled her that she was putting children in harm's way. Nonetheless, one of the keys to the Manhattan Nation's early success was how quickly they could relay messages to their teams.
“The Co-op set up camp further away than anticipated,” she said. “Will the couriers be all right traveling these distances?”
“It is better to be safe than sorry,” Murad said. “It would be a heavy blow to the nation if you were injured.”
Most of the tribes in the center of Manhattan had either allied with her or been captured by the Co-op. There were still pockets of wastelanders who insisted on taking their chances on their own. Most of them knew her alliance well enough to leave the couriers alone, but it still made her uneasy. There was still the matter of the wilderness in several of the buildings, especially so close to the overgrown jungle that used to be Central Park. Most of the couriers used well-traveled paths, but the risk was still there.
Over the next fifteen minutes, half a dozen more couriers, all children, reported in. A dozen more were sent out as the war council relayed instructions and the enemy's location to coordinate the attack. Elise watched the white pieces on the mapâtaken from an old chess boardâclose in on the enemy's location, the black king.
“That's the last to report in,” Murad said. “On your command, Mist Queen.” To the side, two girls stood at the door ready to deliver the order to attack.
“Stop calling me that,” she said absentmindedly as she studied the map. Elise looked out the nearest window to check the light outside, and then nodded. She wasn't sure why they always looked to her for final confirmation, considering it was all of them who planned the attacks, but she took it in stride.
“Maanx's fights will hit them first from the north,” Murad said. “They will buy a long enough distraction for the rest to strike a hundred heartbeats later from the other directions.” That was another thing. Every tribe counted differently. It was maddening.
“All right,” Elise said, summoning as much authority as she could. “Let's do this. Make sure the all the couriers are pulled back a safe distance first.”
The messages were relayed and the couriers sent off, and then the waiting game began. This was the most unnerving part of the exchanges. What she wouldn't give to be able to send a message and have the recipient receive it instantaneously. That might be something she would add to Titus's already gigantic to-do list.