UNDUE DISTURBANCE ARC PART FOUR

I spent most of my time projecting and perfecting the metal balloon. Did not come out to eat and ignored any rapping on my door. I constructed over and over till I was satisfied. This was just one part of it, however, I had lots to prepare.

I eventually went to get food. But it was more reconnaissance than eating. I ate quickly, eyeing the doors to the food wing. Food engineering and production took place beyond there. People were scattered around tables in their heads or in conversation with others. I stood, about to go through the door, hoping no one noticed me. Right then, Nolosh, the general engineer came through. It was a good thing. I needed to meet him and he'd made it simple by appearing.

“Brightdawn, Nolosh.”

He wore a look, as if trying to remember my name. Then he finally said, “Panner...Sorge.”

I nodded. “Yes. I wanted to ask you about travel schedules.”

“Alright, come with me.” We occupied an empty table and he unpacked his meal. Carefully. Not in haste. Good for me.

“Have you eaten?” He asked.

“I have.” Also considerate. This wouldn't be hard.

“Travel schedules? Well, there hasn't been much of those lately. Just a few rounds with Waste and metal plates.”

“To where? And…from where?” I stammered. I needed to know it all.

“Well Pilot Fauster takes a basket of Waste every week to AOB.”

“How much of it?”

“E1 is the second best functioning terminal in Eophyla after the AOB itself, so we send out around a quarter Waste.”

“A quarter Waste and once a week?” I thought out loud—didn't intend to but I proceeded without a care. “One quarter in Waste cannot be carried in a single basket. And once a week?”

“Yea, I know. Pilots Telma and Hildenbrou assist him. Pilot Grenn follows sometimes too.”

Grenn. I did not want to hear the name. There was a lingering feeling he would find out what I was planning and wreck it to the ground.

“So how many baskets in total?”

“Depends on the week's success. Sometimes, five, other times seven.”

“Are those the only baskets that go out?”

“No. We send out baskets to collect too. AOB is spending-averse so they ask us to send baskets for recycling and travelling pods.” He saw the confused look on my face and added. “They dismantle them, and we reassemble them on arrival.”

“No. I know that.” I shook my head. “We have pods? Travel pods?” I was indeed surprised. The landing bay was to store recycling pods not travel ones.

“Yea.” He said, excitedly. He was amused, almost laughing in fact.

“Since when?”

“About a star ago.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

I could feel my plans changing. Why bother with a basket when I could use a pod? No. No. No. Pods are faster and more efficient but far easier to track. With a basket I could become one with the darkness but pods? Comms System could track it and without much trouble. I am sticking with the basket.

“What again? Any longer travels?”

He had not touched his food yet. He liked talking about his work. He had a passion for it, the opposite of me.

He sighed thoughtfully “Baskets E1-12, E1-13, E1-14, E1-15 cover longer distances. They are slightly bigger too. Two of them are at AOB now. Their churners were damaged, so they need replacement. One is at Aksselranta, and E1-12 is still on terminal summit.”

“The one at Aksselranta is doing what there?”

“I don't know exactly. Only, Serjeant sent a Pilot with three delegates there. Why…?”

“Do any baskets stop here to recharge?” I cut him short. I couldn't allow him to ask questions.

“Yea, E5 recharges here sometimes.”

“Is that all?”

“Uhmm… I don't know. Students go to Base at times for Kasbane…You know, to become Children of the Empire. Is there a reason you are asking these questions?”

“Just curious.” I said, tersely. I was getting uneasy and he was getting uptight. I turned to go but halted “One more question. Where is Waste stored? Serjeant asked me to do a routine check.” Routine check? I laughed internally.

“Ehhh…Up the rung?”

I didn't want to try my luck after this. My questions were beginning to puzzle him. His shuddering voice told me that much.

“Thank you. Really!” I left. I did not heed whoever was looking this time, I just hopped into the food wing. Reconnaissance. There were doors to both sides, and whichever was which I did not know. I regretted my indifference to these things. Mubbers would have known every single bolt and nut in place. Waste passed through a different pipe than food did. The only reason it ended up in the food wing was the packing. They were both packaged in the same silver foil. I reached the end of the corridor. I could hear gears working behind the walls and Waste too, pumping. Waste or food, didn't know which one.

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Up the rung? I clambered up and raised a hatch. It was hard to see up there. I could barely make out the carts. I surveyed the place. No one was around, no one guarded the Waste. Someone was meant to be here guarding it. Maybe it was Nolosh and he left to eat? As I was pondering what to do, I heard footsteps below. There'd be no time to pack Waste in the foil. I'd be back.

No! Wait! I removed one of my boots and dug it in the Waste. The footsteps were on the rung now, and soon the hatch was raised. I was standing there, more innocent than innocence, arms at my side, feet work casual. A head popped out from the hatch. I could not see the face but I knew the shape of the head. Of course, The Serjeant would set the biggest delegate in the terminal over Waste. Jeree. I stuck out my chest so that he'd see my badge. He climbed in fully.

“Everything's fine here. I have to report that to Serjeant.” I couldn't tell if he was scowling but I knew his eyes searched every part of me. I spread my arms out relaxedly. My unsaid way of saying. See, no Waste, no foil. But I dreaded walking away. One foot was higher than the other in my boots. I did all in my power to stave off any awkwardness and descended the rungs. Nolosh had just finished his mush and was abandoning his table for the hallway. I was sorry. I was truly sorry. I intercepted him.

“Nolosh. Serjeant said I should give you some blueprints to gloss over.”

He was still squeamish but he bit. “Where are they?”

“In my section. You don't mind coming with me, do you?”

He shook his head. We went over to my wing and into my section.

“Check there in the cabinet while I retrieve the rest from Panner Silyuss.” I pretended to leave. As he crouched to open the cabinet door, my hammer construct descended upon him.

I did not know how hard I had to make the hammer in order for him to pass out. What I knew was that I did not want to try twice and surely, he collapsed after the first hit. I was not risking the plan. I did not trust him. I did not trust anyone.

I used my bed sheets to tie him to a post in my Waste Room. I secured a cloth tightly around his mouth. There was no going back now, the plan was in motion.

One more thing needed to be done that very dawn. I needed a map. Not a relief map, just an ordinary map of the Iron Belt. Pilots had maps but only fragment maps and collecting piece by piece would only waste time. I wanted a whole, completed map. And to my knowledge only Serjeant Dolony had one. I wore another pair of boots and headed out. I wasn't going to try stealing it myself. If I got caught I would be sent to a cell for a long while. I did not have that time. Zulta, however, did. He was my student and he'd do it for me. I was certain of this. He was already a Child of the Empire, freshly seventeen stars. I found him among a swarm of students, ever at the center of it all. Didn't know what he was up to this time but did not care either. I hadn't even asked him to come. When he saw me, he tore through the crowd to meet me.

“Pan Sorge. You don't normally come down here. Anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, actually.” I almost broke character with a thankful smile.

“I need a map of the Iron Belt from Serjeant Dolony's station. A completed map.”

“I won't ask why. But I need something too.”

“What?” I hoped it was something I could do. I was already concerned I was doing too much.

“I want to steal Waste from the food wing. We'd need your Panner construction thing.” He gestured exaggeratedly with his hands.

I smiled a soft, cunning smile. I wanted to tell him I also was planning on stealing Waste the following dawn. Then again, risks. I only asked, “When?”

“Whenever you are ready.”

“Tomorrow then. Meet at the food hall. Third hour.” When everyone is still dreaming. He bounced off and rejoined his group.

I laid down on my bed and waited. I constructed and reconstructed balloons, checked a wasted Nolosh and looked for any holes in my plan. None I could think of. Yet. I needed to get Hstrad to the terminal summit somehow and have him convinced to port me. I had devised something already and was quite confident of it. As I was filling in the dots, the sound of the Mourn haunted the terminal. This was a part of Zulta's plan. Right?

I heard the race of feet on metal, people running up and down. If Zulta had thrown a tantrum, it would be reserves going after him. Will he come to my wing? I was growing anxious.

“Panners Fenrod and Sorge, deploy to the cells. Now!” It was Serjeant Dolony's voice. Zulta had acted and I hoped not foolishly. I half-ran there and the Serjeant waited for Fenrod to arrive before swearing at the both of us.

“I caught one of your students in my station going through my cabinets. Said his tutors told him to find an Affiliate or he'd fail. Really?”

Fenrod looked at me. Death lurking behind black eyes. I did not say a word. Confirming or denying would be pointless anyway.

“We did not encourage it. We only hinted that every terminal possessed an Affiliate from the Capital. And the child took matters into his own hands. Curiosity. Exuberance. You know these things.”

“Ransacking my place when I am not there?” Serjeant whispered loudly to his face. “What is going on Fenrod?” Then he stormed off.

Krakian Fifth Propaganda. An Affiliate was a plaque with the effect—a dome— of the Iron Capital cut out on its edge. Any terminal with an Affiliate is vouchsafed and subject to the Iron Capital.

“I will speak to the boy.” I said, curtly. As I departed, I sensed Fenrod’s gaze upon me and not quitting till I turned the corner. That was the least of my worries, though. I only hoped Zulta got the map.

I introduced myself to the reserves as Zulta's tutor and they let me into his cell.

“Zulta? Did it go well?” His smile was wicked. It did go well. “Where is it?”

“There might be a slight issue.”

“What? I swallowed it?”

"Okay! Open your mouth." I wasn’t taken aback by that fact; I merely jumped to the solution. I don't know when I turned into this, but I loved it—the part of me that was practical but wild. I didn’t even think I was the one speaking; something else was, and it was happy. I was happy. I made a rod the size of his throat. "Be as quiet as possible.” And pushed it in until he gagged.

He was not quiet. He threw up mush and guck. And there my map was, among all of it. A reserve checked in.

“Take him to Med. He's ill.” I said. There was a tingle firing from my neck to my temple. I tried to hold back my smile, but I'd sooner travel to the end of the Hole. I failed badly and with a comically broad smile, I repeated, “Take him to Med.”

I got to my room and cleaned the map. Nolosh was waking. I had gagged him but he could still shout. I projected a hammer, lifted it but could not strike him again; I dephysicalized the construct. He was concussed, moaning gibberish. If he shouts, I'll decommission him. By decommission, I did not mean kill. I hopefully wasn't so far gone. I could not be trying to save Mubbers by killing others.

The map was not quite as large as I had presumed. Silver ink spotted its black paper screen; terminals were represented by circles, Area of Bases by triangles, the Great Dome by a semi-circle, and Reglim poles by single dots. There were also markings for war bases and cloud pathways. No travel basket would take me to the Iron Capital in one flight. I needed somewhere to ease off. A dead terminal, perhaps? I could not remain in Eophyla, they’d put out a warning for stray basket E1-12. A dead terminal then. I counted the marks. I would need sufficient Waste to leave the Base and traverse over to the nearest dead terminal. Dead terminals were marked on with Xs. There weren't many of them. The nearest one was ten thousand abysses away.

And that meant lots of Waste.