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Descendants of a Dead Earth
Chapter 39: Paying It Back And Forward

Chapter 39: Paying It Back And Forward

“Wake up.”

Jibril struggled to open his eyes. When he finally pried one open, he immediately shut it closed again. As blurry as the image had been, it was something out of his worst nightmares.

A hard blow across his face snapped his head to the right. “I know you’re awake, so don’t bother pretending otherwise.”

Still reeling from the impact, Jibril winced as he forced his lids open again, only to learn that it wasn’t a mirage. Samara stood beside him, and she appeared to be angry.

Not good.

He forced a smile onto his face. “It’s good to see you…”

Crack

His head rocked the other way as she struck him again. “How about you don’t lie to me, Jibril?” she told him. “There’s a good chance you’ll live longer that way.”

He nodded in agreement before trying to sit up, only to discover his hands and feet were bound. “Is this really necessary?” he asked plaintively.

“Yes,” she answered, “especially considering the last time I saw you you’d just put two into my back, even after I’d held up my part of the deal. So, let’s not pretend this is a joyful reunion of old friends, shall we?”

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

Samara dragged a chair over and sat down. “Here’s the deal. I have questions. You have answers. Answer my questions truthfully, and you have a chance. Fail to do so, and things end badly for you. Are we clear on the rules?”

“Yes,” he said carefully.

“All right then, let’s start with how you found me.” She crossed her legs as she waited for him to respond.

Jibril raised an eyebrow. “Not going to take notes?”

“No need,” she answered, pointing to her head, a gesture that made him shudder as memories came flooding back. She gave him a smug look as he realized she knew exactly what he’d just been picturing. “So quit stalling and start talking.”

He thought furiously. If he could string things along, keep this going as long as possible, another ship would come and rescue him. Just keep her talking, he thought.

“It wasn’t hard,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve been leaving a wide swath of destruction in your wake. But this last attack…” He shook his head. “I don’t think you have any idea what your actions on Ipqi have sparked. Before you were just an irritant, but now? They want you dead.”

“Nice to know I got their attention,” she chuckled.

“This isn’t a game, Samara,” he snapped. “You unleashed a plague on Ipqi, one capable of jumping species at whim and breaking quarantine. The entire system is now under a ‘Shoot on sight’ order. They fire on any ship trying to leave. No exceptions.” His jaw set in a hard line. “The death toll is in the millions and rising. Congratulations, you’re now a mass murderer. You’ve killed more than Hitler, Stalin, and Genghis Khan combined.”

“And just who was it that made me what I am?” she fired back. “Did you think I wanted this?” she retorted. “You and the Troika turned me into a killer, confident I was incapable of turning on you as long as you held my leash. Only I found a way out, and suddenly now you get squeamish. Funny, it never seemed to bother you before.” She leaned forward in her chair. “And you still haven’t answered the question.”

Jibril nodded. “The Chell found the wreckage of your ship and pieced it together. Coupled with the stolen assault shuttle, it was obvious you’d escaped the system before the quarantine went into effect. But then came the big question; where would you go next?” He shrugged. “Most were looking over potential targets, trying to figure out where you’d strike. But I had a fresh approach in mind.”

“Go on,” she encouraged him.

“Given my… well, history, with the Troika, I know more than most humans do about them. You taking a Chell ship? I immediately realized the problem you’d run into. Food. You wouldn’t survive on their fare, so obviously you’d need to find something a little more palatable. Once I realized that it only took a couple of minutes of scanning the charts to realize where you’d likely run to.” He shrugged once again. “I just made sure I got there first.”

Samara was silent for several moments as she mulled that over. “I believe you,” she said at last, “but you’ve left a few things out.”

“Such as?”

“Such as why you neglected to share this information with the Troika, for starters,” she pointed out. “If you’d told the Tu’udh’hizh’ak what you’d figured out, there would have been an entire squadron of ships waiting for me, instead of just one.” She gave him a wintry smile. “Which we destroyed before departing the system. Thought you’d like to know.”

Jibril winced as he realized his best chance for freedom had just disappeared, earning him a chuckle from Samara. “Why are you working with mercenaries instead of the Troika? A sudden fall from grace, perhaps?”

He scowled, turning his head. “That’s it, isn’t it?” she continued. “Getting captured by me couldn’t have been good for your image, even with you shooting me in the back during your escape. That’s why you did it.” His head whipped back to look at her as her cold eyes returned the favor. “You figured by doing that, you could undo some of the damage. Only it wasn’t enough, and suddenly you were persona non grata. So you doubled down and hired a crew, hoping to capture me to win your way back into their good graces.” A throaty laugh escaped her lips. “How’s that going, by the way?”

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“You’re a fool, Samara,” he spat out. “You think I don’t know what you’ve done? There’s only one way you could have pulled off what I saw.” His eyes narrowed. “Somehow, you activated the box.”

Samara froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffed.

“Now who’s lying?” he fired back. “You purposefully shot yourself in the head to escape my trap and then defeated me and my crew with a good chunk of your skull missing. And yet here you are now, with nary a scratch. Which is impossible, unless you meddled with something you should have left alone.”

The former assassin still said nothing. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, that act alone has sealed your fate. Even if they were prepared to forgive your other crimes, toying with that artifact is unforgivable in their eyes. You’ve crossed a dangerous line; one I don’t think you realize even now just how dangerous. When they catch you... and they will catch you, Samara, don’t think they won’t... killing you won’t be enough for them. Not anymore. They’ll squeeze you for every secret you possess, rip everything you know from out of your skull, dissect you with a thousand cuts... and they’ll make sure you’re conscious for every agonizing moment of it.” Despite his warning, he shuddered at the horror of it himself. “By time they’re done, you’ll beg them to kill you.”

She snorted in disgust. “You think that scares me?”

“It damn well should. It scares me, and I’m not even the one they want.” His eyes bored into hers. “Cut a deal with the Troika. Show them how you accessed the box. Do that, and they might let you live.”

“And just hand them the keys to the galaxy?” she growled. “Give them the means to crush anyone who opposes them, forever?” She shook her head. “Forget it. I’m done playing by their rules. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“You arrogant bitch,” he hissed, “don’t you get it? Do you have any idea to what lengths they’ll go in order to learn that secret? You think what the Aggaaddub did to Freya was bad? That’s nothing. They’ll broadcast a demand to the Clans, ordering them to hand you over.”

“Ha! Let them. I don’t plan on going anywhere near the Clans,” she sneered.

Jibril rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you can’t be that stupid. It won’t matter that they can’t hand you over, the Troika will assume they’re refusing to. The Clans will protest their innocence, offer themselves up for inspection to prove their good faith... and none of it will make a difference.” He glared at her. “They’ll slaughter them anyway because they won’t believe them. Because they don’t care. Because we’re expendable.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “... because they can.” He took a deep shuddering breath before opening his eyes. “They’ll wipe out what’s left of humanity, and they won’t bat an eye doing it. You’ve got one chance to save yourself, and to save what’s left of our race.”

Suddenly she looked much more subdued. “And what’s that?” she asked.

“Turn yourself in, Samara,” he said gently. “Cut a deal. Because it’s the only way any of us walks away from this.”

She got a far-away look in her eyes as she deliberated. He could see the war going on inside her; her fierce desire for revenge warring against her very human need to protect what few of them remained. It looked like maybe he’d gotten through to her.

Samara rose to her feet. “No,” she told him.

He blinked. “Damn it, weren’t you listening?”

“I was,” she nodded, “and I can’t disagree with a thing you said. But it doesn’t matter.”

“The ‘Final Solution' of humanity doesn’t matter?” he all but shouted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Because it doesn’t matter if I make a deal with them or not, since they’ll never keep their word,” she told him, “and you know that as well as I do.”

Jibril started to protest until something pulled him back. She nodded at his silent confirmation. “They’ll come for us, Jibril, and they won’t stop. You’re right about that. The only way we’ll make them back off is to hit them and keep hitting them until they finally realize that coming after us is too expensive a game to play.”

He could only stare at her. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said in horror. “You’re risking the life of every Terran still breathing, all because of a hunch.”

“It’s hardly a hunch,” she told him, as a smile creased her face. “Let’s just say... a very smart birdie is whispering in my ear.” She folded her arms, regarding him. “Any other warnings you’d like to share?”

“I would have thought the one was enough,” he said coldly. “But no, I’ve said all I intend to say.” He turned his head away, ignoring her completely.

She tapped him on the shoulder. “There’s still one last matter we need to discuss,” she told him.

He turned a deaf ear to her. After a handful of seconds, she took matters into her own hands. Jibril stared into her eyes once more as she gripped his head with both hands and forced him to look at her.

“You shot me in the back,” she said softly, “and I’m afraid I just can’t let that go.” His eyes went wide as she twisted his head, snapping his neck. His body convulsed once, and then fell limp. She stood over his body, gazing down at him until she heard a voice behind her.

“I thought you said you’d let him live?” Xeno said carefully.

Her nostrils flared as she turned to face him.

“I lied.”

----------------------------------------

Once she’d disposed of the body, it was time to make some decisions. Kalypso was considerably more muted than she’d been during their last exchange. Perhaps snapping Jibril’s neck had some practical benefits other than a profound sense of satisfaction.

“Considering everything we’ve learned we can’t afford to dance around this any longer. There’s one target we’ve been avoiding, and that ends now.” Pulling up the relevant charts on the display, Samara jammed her finger into the screen. “Here. Altinak.”

“Altinak’s passive defenses are... formidable,” Xeno reminded her. “Getting close enough to do any damage would be all but impossible.”

“Even if we got close, it wouldn’t make a difference,” Kalypso said coldly. “The labs, the training facilities, rehabilitation, they’re all buried kilometers beneath the asteroid’s crust. Even this ship’s weapons would barely scratch the surface.”

“Which is why I have no intention of going in with guns blazing,” Samara smiled.

“Then what are you intending?” Xeno asked. “Altinak is the very heart and soul of the Protean Clan. It’s where we became Proteans, even though some were more fortunate than others,” he said wistfully. “Disrupting their efforts there would be a serious blow, perhaps even a crippling one, but you have to know what you’re proposing is a suicide mission, Samara.” They both faced him. “If we go to Altinak, we aren’t coming back.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said, shaking her head. “Altinak is the last place they’ll expect us. They’ll assume it’s too well defended, that it’s too tough a nut to crack.” Her smile got wider. “And they’ll never see us coming, not with the plan I have in mind.”

“And your... guests?” he asked. “What do they say?”

“Guardian assures me he knows a trick or two that will help,” she told them. “We go in under the radar, slip past their defenses, and then hit them from the inside. If we can hold off the reinforcements long enough, we can shut them down for good.”

“I want to see those plans,” Kalypso insisted.

“As soon as I draft them,” she promised.

Xeno stared at her oddly. “What?” she asked.

He took a deep breath. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that... question, I asked you?” he probed gently.

She closed her eyes. “This isn’t a suicide run,” she said once again, “and no, I’m not trying to get us all killed.”

“Very well,” he said at last, “though I too reserve judgment until I have something more concrete to work with.”

“I’ll get on that immediately,” she told them, turning on her heel and heading to her cabin.

... Of course we will do all that we can to support your efforts, Guardian confirmed, though I also hope you have a plan in mind.

“... working on it,” she muttered under her breath.