Peculiar Soul

Chapter 101: Choices

Chapter 101: Choices

It was then, waking up in Unais quarters, that I realized the horrible truth: that I did not matter. None of us did. In the conflict that follows you, one small persons desire to do good is meaningless. It may be wiped away without warning or recourse.

I cried. It wasnt the first time, or the last, but I cried then because I realized that I had never left the cotton mill floor. I was still the same battered child, scavenging for discarded bits while the machines did their uncaring work around me. If I grew, it was to find a larger machine - and there would ALWAYS be a larger machine.

Yet men still have their will. The machine may deny the weight of choice, but it may not deny choice itself; one avenue always remains open. We may stand, heedless of the rushing metal, and throw ourselves upon its gears.

You may hate me for what follows; its a sentiment that I can sympathize with. But I learned over long years that one panicking child will knock others into the machinery; he is a danger to all those around him, including the children who would have otherwise been safe. The machine is immutable. The hazard we may grasp is the child who still believes, somewhere in an animal recess of his mind, that he might break free if he could only rise to his feet.

So I will go to those men who cannot bear a life on their knees, and show them their way forward.

- Annals of the Seventeenth Star, 693.

Michael was of two minds on his dwindling need for sleep. His mind rebelled at the thought of losing it entirely; the notion of never enjoying that rest again gave his skin an unpleasant prickle and sent his mind down long, dark corridors where he wondered if sleep was merely the first thing hed lose.

The extra time was undeniably useful, though. He woke well before the dawn, taking the time to stow away the last of Vernons gifts - some where they should go, and others where he knew Sobriquet would not immediately find and devour them. It was a losing battle keeping secrets from her, but if he could stretch the chocolate for another day hed consider it a good effort.

He snuck out of the house soundlessly; he seldom thought anymore about the grace that Stanza lent to his footsteps, but whenever it rose to his attention it summoned memories of Jeorg quietly padding around his garden, appearing without warning behind Michael to comment on his work or dispense some cryptic observation. It brought a smile to his face as he eased the door shut and slipped out onto the street.

The light of the celebration had died away by now, with only a few scattered candles guttering in windows. It made for a sparse, eerie light, and Michael felt compelled to maintain his silence as he walked across the cobbles. The last traces of the celebration had a solemnity to them that he was loath to break.

They disappeared of their own accord, though, as wax ran down and wicks burnt away, replaced by the wan daylight peeking across the rooftops. By the time the sky had gained some color Michael was almost at his destination.

Imes had not kept a formal garrison in some time, as the Safid had maintained their war camps outside of the city and the old Daressan garrison had been razed at the start of the occupation. Saf had built a grand temple on the site; the Daressans had simply resumed use of it as a garrison when the city was once again theirs. The building was simple in construction, conveying its grandeur through vast, unbroken planes of stone rather than any embellishment on the exterior. The grounds, once open, were now ringed by a rude fence and periodic sentries, who stood facing out into the quiet town.

Michael approached the pair of guards at the gatehouse, raising his hand in greeting. Good morning, he said. Is it too early to enter?

The guards had stiffened at his approach. One walked towards him, his rifle held down but ready. Were off-limits here, he said. If you want to worship, theres a temple three blocks south.

Not here to worship, Michael laughed. I was hoping to talk to one of the instructors here. I can wait, if youd pass on that Michael Baumgart is here for-

Oh, Ghars bloody bones, the guard said, blanching; a moment later he came back to attention. Sorry, sir. Didnt see your face.

Michael peered at him, not recognizing the man. He was young, younger than Michael, with a reedy build that made him look like a child dressing in his fathers overlarge uniform. Have we met? Michael asked.

No, sir, the guard responded, color rising to his cheeks. I just - theres drawings in some of the papers, sir.

Evidently a good likeness, Michael muttered. So Im clear to enter? I dont actually know where youve set up the training grounds, so if you can point me there

To the right, along the fence until you reach those huts, the soldier said, stepping aside to permit Michael passage. He stayed at attention, barely breathing as Michael walked past.

My soul to the One, the man murmured, quick and nervous.

The words froze Michael for a bare moment. He turned his sight to the man, not moving his head. Everyone rang with fear around him, a constant low drone that he had learned to put to the back of his mind, but now he troubled himself to focus on the feeling pulsing from the young, trembling soldier. It was still fear, certainly, but threaded through with something low and brassy that lent it a resonant quality, the echo of vastness rumbling back with every heartbeat.

He knew what it was. If anything, awe was more disturbing than fear; he knew why men feared him. Keeping his face steady, Michael turned his head to look at the soldier and gave him a sharp, solemn nod, meeting his eyes. Michael hated those words, in truth. He did not want what they promised - but, in the end, they did not say those words for him.

So he held the soldiers gaze for more than a mere glance, then turned and began walking along the fence.

Men were already up, engaged in calisthenics. Sweat and dew marked them as they went about their exercise, faces serious and movements intent; nobody needed to impress upon these men the importance of their task when they slept in the shadow of a Safid temple.

One group moved with a particular precision, their movements tight and coordinated; Michael smiled and walked over to the man quietly watching them move through their forms. Zabala, Michael said. Good morning.

Zabala turned and looked at him, and Michael felt the smile even though no hint of it touched his face. He was still in front of his men, after all. Zabala turned back to the troops and raised his head. Laps, he said, not raising his voice. Four extra, and you have your liberty until breakfast.

The men raised their heads, smiling wearily as they began to jog towards the fenceline; one or two curious looks found Michael, but none of them lingered to stare. Moments later, Michael and Zabala stood alone.

Michael, Zabala said, smiling at last. He extended his hand; Michael shook it. Imes seems to agree with you; you look well.

I was about to say that you look right at home, Michael chuckled. Although I was surprised to hear you were at the Daressan camp. I thought your plan was to return to your unit?

It was, but tagging along with you has made the prospect of returning to regular service seem somewhat dull. Zabala shook his head. Detached duty offered more variety, and there was a need for advisors. There are few people left who remember Daressas army; fewer still in any shape to serve. Were standing in for that lack, until the first batch of capable officers and enlisted is ready to take over.

Michael nodded. It seems to be going well, he noted.

As well as could be expected, Zabala sighed. Theyre enthusiastic, but theyre here because theyre angry. Angry men make good warriors; our goal is to make them good soldiers, since the army needs to serve in more than war.

Thats the hope, Michael murmured, his mouth twisting. But it seems less likely every day. I talked with Lekubarri yesterday. Ardalt has its eye on Saf, and theyre going to run through Ghar to do it.

Zabalas face slipped back into blank neutrality. Thats madness, he said. They have to know wed never stand for it. He paused, a stormy look growing on his face. But if Lekubarri is worried about it-

I was going to bring you up to speed, but I think you have the gist of it, Michael sighed. The Batzar may be content to watch Ardalt and Saf return to the War, so that they can keep their comfortable neutrality. A chance to reclaim the stable violence of the past century.

Cowards, Zabala spat. Tell me were at least doing something.New novel chapters are published on

Michael nodded. The zuzendaritza is stepping up its operations there, but they dont have the power needed to intervene on a grand scale - nor could they step in without provoking a response from the isolationist faction. Lekubarri asked me to travel there before the situation deteriorates, link up with their garrison so that Im in-theater if an opportunity arises. He looked at Zabala. I came here to ask if youd go, but if youre needed here-

Zabala looked out over the tents, his eyes going distant. After a moment, he looked back to Michael. Ive wondered, he said, whether my fate is already decided. Weve fought together for long enough that I probably cant escape your pull, in the end, but if I say yes - that removes all doubt, doesnt it? Sooner or later, my path will end with you.

Michael felt a pang of hurt. I didnt know it concerned you that much, he said. Weve never spoken about it.

I was under the impression theres little you could do about it, even if we did, Zabala said. And Im not - concerned. But it is a choice, isnt it? My last chance to strive for anything else. Even if it were the best thing in the world, it would be odd not to raise my head one last time and look out at all of the untraveled paths slipping into the distance.

He took a breath, then let it out; his face relaxed. Not that I plan on it becoming a relevant issue anytime soon, he said. Zabala shook his head, then smiled and offered Michael his hand. Let me know when were leaving.

Michael said his goodbyes to Vernon and walked south towards the citys port. It was less tidy than the other districts; it had suffered greatly during the War, and was under extreme use in its aftermath. Great ships of Mendiko make were pulled up next to towering cargo cranes, plenty of both bearing Lekubarris ubiquitous mark. Michael sighed and turned farther down towards the fishing piers, where the citys hodgepodge flotilla of merchant ships were tied up.

It wasnt hard to locate the ship he sought. He had spent days on it as they crossed from Ardalt, living cheek to jowl with his men and the rescued Mendiko contingent. The battered freighter that Charles and Lars had commandeered looked much the same, though a careful eye would note the fresh, shining stretches of metal abovedecks.

Even as he approached, Michael saw the glitter of sunlight on steel; he lofted his sight up to see Charles, stripped to the waist and filthy, his hand guiding an amorphous mass of metal as it rippled across the decking. The slab settled over exposed beams until it lay flush. He withdrew his hand; the steel shimmered and lay completely flat.

It resonated a bare moment later as Michael cleared the rail, jumping up from the dock to land in front of the startled artifex.

Ghars fucking- Charles spat, taking a half-step backwards and scowling. I just put that in, lordling! If youve knocked it out of true-

I have confidence in your work, Michael grinned, bouncing on the new deck. Hows she coming? It looks like youve refinished most of it by now.

Charles turned his scowl down upon the deck. The top, sure, he muttered. But the engine is a different matter. Fiddly, tiny parts, and its not a make Im familiar with. The propellers are corroded enough that I need new metal, but nobody has the right alloy for sale. He stomped a foot on the deck irritably. This is why I never went in for honest work.

Seems like youre doing well enough, Michael laughed. Is Lars around? I had hoped to talk to both of you together.

That idiot? Charles sneered. Hes around, all right, but the ships not what hes-

Michael! Lars said, emerging from the ships cabin; his usually-neat hair was mussed and dirty, his uniform jacket traded for a simple workmans shirt. Warm exuberance radiated from him, though, and Michael found himself smiling in return.

Lars strode up to clap Michael heartily on both shoulders. Good to see you! he said. What do you think? Shes beautiful, eh? Ive been talking with your man Emil, here, and some of my familys contacts in Esrou; theres a fortune to be made helping Daressa back on its feet.

Youre not the first Ive heard saying that, Michael chuckled. Charles was just telling me how - well everything is going.

Lars laughed, impervious to the glower Charles was sending his way. Its really better than he makes it out to be, he said. Shes in rough shape, for sure, but the structure is solid. I managed to find some schematics for the engine class and a few ingots of that alloy you were looking for, by the way-

And youve been letting me lay decking all afternoon? Charles shot back. Ive been waiting on those most of the week!

Sorry, sorry, Lars said, holding his hands up; a touch of color reached his cheeks. I meant to say something as soon as I got back, but you know how distractions crop up-

Michael? Vera said, stepping out of the cabin door. She flashed a smile at him, walking over with her arms outstretched for a hug. Michael noted that her hair was likewise in disarray, and that she was wearing little more than an Ardan uniform jacket. I was wondering when youd stop by.

Michael returned the hug while Lars reddened further still. Ive been wrapped up with my own distractions, Michael said, disengaging himself carefully. But they only last so long.

Veras smile faded. Oh, she said. Its time, then.

Time? Lars asked, a note of worry in his voice. Time for what?

Ardalt seems likely to attack Saf through Gharon in the coming months, Michael said. Luc will be there, and so shall I.

Ha! Charles said, clapping his hands. You know how to talk to me, lordling! When do we leave?

Lars looked at him, shock and confusion plain on his face. Leave? he asked. But the ship-

Charles snorted. Im not that sort of artifex, he said. If theres a chance for me to exercise my true profession, Im going to take it.

The Mendiko have bought up the contract of any other artifex worth a damn, you know that, Lars shot back. Theres no chance Ill be able to get her seaworthy without you.

Then I guess your schedule is free too, Charles said, grabbing his shirt from the rail. Pretty convenient timing.

Lars glared at the artifex as he walked towards the cabin, and Michael was surprised to see real anger behind it. The Ardan captain took a step forward, arms tensing - and then dropping to his sides as he let his breath out, slouching in defeat.

If you dont want to go, thats fine, Michael said hastily. You wouldnt be the first to say no. I was only here to offer, and to ask if you had contacts for some of the men.

No, no. Lars sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Id probably never forgive myself if I walked away from this. I only wish- He looked out across the ship, his eyes tracing past its dilapidated rails to the sea beyond, then continuing on to the port, the city, to Vera watching with concern. It seems a tragedy that we only get one life, when theres so many out there.

Vera smiled, and laid a hand on his chest. Youre being maudlin, she said. Its just a delay. Everything you leave behind will be right here waiting for your return.

Lars lifted his head slightly. Everything? he asked.

Vera smiled brightly at him; Michael chuckled and turned to Vera.

Are you sure you dont want to come as well? Michael asked.

She shook her head slowly, her smile fading. Not much use for me when youre around, she said. And - I need to spend my hope somewhere else. Your path and Sofias will cross again, and when they do- She looked to the side, then back up with her smile forced back upon her face. Its not my practice to wallow in failure.

Michael nodded, feeling the swell of resonant emotion from her. I understand, he said, turning back to Lars. And I do mean it; you can stay if you want. Theres good work to be done here, important work.

And plenty of willing hands to do it, Lars said. But Charles has the right of it, as much as I hate to admit it. We all have our profession. There was a flicker of soul, barely noticeable; a thin sliver of metal sheared off of the railing to fall into the sea. Lars watched it fall.

When he raised his head again, his eyes were clear. I know where Richter and Leo are, and between them well find the others. Ill pass on your offer.

Be sure to stress that its an offer, Michael insisted as Lars turned back towards the cabin. Its not likely to be a sunny holiday down there, I expect a good deal of trouble.

Theyll intuit that when they hear its you whos offering, Vera said dryly. And theyll come all the same.

I dont think theyre all drawn to their profession like these two, Michael noted.

And to think that Im the blind one, Vera murmured, patting him on the arm; her hand stilled to grab his sleeve gently. People make their choices. Believe them when they say theyre for you. Believe them when they say theyre against you. And - do what you must.

Michael did not need to look down to see her tears. He inclined his head. Im sorry, Vera, he said. I couldnt find a path for her.

She forced another smile. Sometimes there isnt one, she rasped quietly. Sometimes theres nothing but darkness, and we must walk ahead in the direction weve chosen. Its not your fault. Its not even Sofias fault. People are - cascades of thought and whim, tumbling forward through time. We fall only where we may.

There was a long moment of silence; the wind tugged at them across the bare deck of the ship. Perhaps, Michael said. But Im sorry all the same.

Vera nodded tightly and said nothing.