The Tengers… is that the name of Zelen’s biological family?

“Oh… that’s very strange,” Asena stammered, then made a show of pulling out a bundle of envelopes from her bag. “I definitely have here a letter addressed to a… Zelen Tenger.”

The old woman made a face, though it was hard to tell whether she was more offended by Asena’s words or her act.

“Zelen? Don’t you mean Bateer Tenger? I don’t remember anyone by the name of Zelen.”

“No? Are you sure? Did Mr Tenger maybe have a son?”

“I don’t remember the Tengers having a son neither.”

Asena’s heart fell, and she strained to keep her face from falling with it. Had the Tengers been childless? That was becoming more and more common all across Akropolis. Perhaps this was a dead end after all…

“They did have a daughter. That I’m sure of.”

Asena remained silent a while longer, her mind racing. Daughter? To her, this bit of news should’ve been no different to if the Tengers didn’t have a child at all. And yet—

“Does this daughter have a name?”

“Do you know anyone that doesn’t?”

I do, actually.

“Did you know the daughter’s name?”

The old woman’s eyes disappeared again as she tilted her head. It took a second for Asena to realize that she was squinting up at the domed sky, seemingly lost in thought.

“You know, it’s the darnedest thing. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but it just won’t come out. I just remember… it was an unusual name. Pretty, but unusual. Something from a long-forgotten corner of Old Earth. And that should count for something, coming from someone like me!”

The ancient woman—herself perhaps not much younger than the war—laughed at her own joke, exposing a toothless grin as she did. Asena too wanted to smile, before she remembered that could be the death knell for her already crumbling disguise.

“You seem to have known this family well,” she observed while trying to keep her face neutral.

“Not for nothing,” the woman agreed. “We don’t get much to be proud of around these parts, but Bateer Tenger’s school was certainly one of ’em. Could be that it didn’t do much to change the fortunes of folk around here, but the little’uns loved it all the same. Gave us all something to look forward to. Reason to hope. For whatever that was worth.”

An all too cramped room with run-down walls. Eager children spilling over shared desks. Frowning slightly from the sudden ache in her chest, Asena asked, “What happened to the school? And to Mr Tenger?”

“Aren’t you a curious one, young messenger?”

Asena blushed and quickly cast her eyes to the ground, as though that could do anything to mask her guilt. But the old woman merely laughed again, before squinting up at the sky once more.

“Must’ve been around when the girl was ten. Ascension Standard. Most folk here don’t pay any attention to that, see. Not likely for anyone in this neighbourhood to pop out a Seher child. But that year, we had two.”

“Two… you mean the Tengers’ daughter… and another child from the same neighbourhood? Do you know whose child, and what their name was?”

“I might be sharp, but I can still only answer one question at a time, dearie. Do you want to hear about the Tengers, or do you want to know about this other child?”

“Sorry,” Asena mumbled. “Please, finish what you were saying about the Tengers.”

“Well, you’re right about the Tenger girl being one that showed to be a Seher. Whisked her off right quick, they did. Little’uns barely had a chance to say goodbye. Hope she’s doing well, whatever she’s up to. I can still see her pretty smile… Shame I couldn’t meet the woman she’d grown into.”

“And is that when… the Tengers moved too? To… Middle Akra, maybe?”

“Middle Akra? The Tengers?”

“Well, yes, isn’t that… When a child is elevated to the Sehermenschen, her family is given the choice to join her in her new allotment. Albeit the parents would still retain Essential status…”

“Don’t know anything about that, dearie, though I’m curious as to why you do. The Tengers did move nearly at the same time as their daughter did, but not to Middle Akra, no. Last I heard… they were down in the Foothills. Awful, I know. Such hard-working and kind people… Where did it go wrong?”

The Kurator-in-disguise stared blankly. The old woman’s eyes again opened into slits.

“Does the word Foothills not mean anything to you? I find that even more curious than the fact you seem to know so much about the Sehers.”

Asena tensed. It was true that the word was entirely foreign to her, at least in the context the old woman seemed to be using it. Was it another district in Lower Akra? If so, why hadn’t it shown up on her map?

She knew she was treading on dangerous territory—perhaps had been for some time—and needed to end the conversation without delay. But not before…

“Sorry, I lost my train of thought for a second. I must’ve been more curious about the other Seher child than I realized. What do you remember about them? Was it a boy or a girl?”

The old woman continued to stare at her young companion through narrow slits. After a beat, however, she obliged, “It was a… boy, I think. If I remember correctly, his family wasn’t from around here. But I think… I think he was one of the little’uns that went to Bateer’s school. Yes… I think his name was…”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Asena waited for the old woman to finish her thought, then frowned as the pause stretched on. The woman, who’d been so lucid if not downright quick-witted for most of their dialogue, suddenly seemed to slow and falter as she tried to recall this second child, before stalling completely.

The Kurator stifled a gasp of recognition. For she’d seen this exact phenomenon too many times to count. In her mind, she pictured a quivering thread that was suddenly allowed to snap and fall away…

She instinctively spun in place and scanned up and down the street, half-expecting to see a Joint Forces uniform or even the General himself. Despite the gradually brightening sky, the street was still deserted save for herself and the old woman.

“Thank you.” She hastily turned back to the woman. “You’ve been great help. I’ve… I’ve got another delivery to make.”

She walked off at speed, her mind blank other than the imperative to get away as quickly as possible. She’d only taken a few steps before the woman called to her again.

“Take a right at the end of this street, and you’ll come upon a canal.”

Asena stopped and turned, slowly, warily. The old woman, back to her lucid self, was once again looking straight at her through the narrow openings that passed for eyes.

“More like sewage, but canal sounds nicer, and that’s what we folk call it. Hang another right at the canal, and follow it all the way down. There’ll be walkways and buildings that get in your way, but as long as you can keep one eye on the canal, then you’ll know you’re going the right way. Keep following the canal. It’ll be a long walk, but eventually, it’ll lead you there. The Foothills.”

Asena didn’t trust herself to speak. The woman’s eyes gave off a glint that showed exactly what she thought of Asena’s lies—and the hopes hidden therein.

“I don’t know what business you have with the Tengers, young messenger, but I hope you find them. And I hope you can give them what they need.”

~February 17th, 140 AH~

~???, the Foothills~

Asena followed the sewage canal all the way down, like the old woman had instructed. And where she’d expected the canal to end, instead she found… that Akropolis itself ended.

She stared for as long as she needed to convince herself that her eyes didn’t deceive.

She’d come upon what was most definitely the widest part of the sewage, where the concrete footpath on either side crumbled into mud and waste. She could also see that the sewage continued into a steep downhill, and beyond it were more manmade structures: platforms, walkways, and even buildings. And yet…

Before her also stretched a ghostly blue wall that spanned her entire field of view and beyond. It also shot straight up into the sky, where it curved to join the rest of the enormous shields that made up the dome over Akropolis.

This was the city limits. This should’ve been where all signs of civilization ended, to be replaced by an expanse of the barren planet. No one other than Reiters and outposted Corpsmen should’ve stepped foot beyond this pale blue wall. And yet…

Asena slid and slipped through the mud (only mud, she tried and failed to convince herself) until she came upon what should’ve been the lowest portions of the shield that should’ve been secured inside solid foundations. Instead, what she found was a clear gap. The gap was large enough for the canal-turned-river of sewage to spill beyond city limits and continue to ooze downhill.

The gap was also more than large enough for people—people like her, or perhaps the Tengers twelve years ago—to duck under and… step outside and beyond Akropolis.

Asena held her breath, and not only to ward herself from the malodorous air.

This was the first time she’d ever seen the dome up close. She’d always assumed it to be continuous and flawless save for the transit gates. Did the Panzers know that there was such a substantial gap here? Surely they must. Didn’t they perform perimeter checks on a daily basis?

Was this… intentional then? She knew of militarized safe zones just outside the dome where Reiters conducted some of their training exercises. But those were controlled environments, frequented only by men who were trained and equipped to kill Syntropy. Whereas this…

She squinted at the haphazard collections of buildings that sat beyond the dome. From here, she couldn’t quite tell whether these were populated, but even if they were, she couldn’t imagine that there would be military presence here. Was this the Foothills, and was it common knowledge among the Lower Akrans? What else didn’t Asena know about her own city?

The anger from this last thought was what drove her back into action. She wrapped her scarf tightly around her mouth and nose, gathered her bag to keep it close to her chest, then ducked under the barrier.

The air on the other side was just as damp and smelled just as putrid. She felt no different from a moment ago, except that her legs shook nervously, forcing her to take a moment to gather her strength—and courage.

Syntropy didn’t come swooping down from the dull sky. She could still breathe and think and move as she normally would. The Asena outside the walls of Akropolis was still firmly Asena, and right now, she was a woman on a mission.

She made her cautious way down the hill, taking care to stay on her feet while avoiding the least inviting elements of the sewage. Eventually, she managed to clamber up onto the first platform, which then led to the first walkway, and further down she went, leaving muddy footprints on concrete and rusted metal.

Before long, she’d made it onto the first buildings, and she saw that the sewage had finally made way for a semblance of solid ground. The terrain also flattened here, making it difficult to see far ahead beyond the first few buildings that stood in her way.

She still hadn’t seen anyone, but she was now convinced that there were people living here—though it was hard to imagine how they could. These buildings weren’t much more than uneven assemblages of spare parts, but even so, they showed signs of recent activity: footprints, fresh rubbish, and extinguished lamps.

Heart pounding and clawing at her throat, Asena nevertheless pressed on, weaving between the first several buildings. Then, as she turned a corner, she nearly screamed.

She’d come face to face with… a man? A corpse? He was certainly skinny enough to be one: dirt-covered skin and bones draped with grimy overalls. The only thing that told Asena he was alive were the round bloodshot eyes that stared out from a field of mud. Then the man that was nearly a corpse spoke in a jittery voice.

“Who… who’re you? Sta… state… state yer business.”

In her shock, the idea of a disguise had completely fled Asena. She said weakly in her normal voice, “I’m looking for Mr Bateer Tenger. Is he… is he here?”

“What… what do you—”

“Don’t matter, do it?”

Asena jumped again, and her eyes darted toward the second voice. This belonged to a second man that had come up from the side, who was also soiled from head to toe but certainly looked more alive than dead.

“She ain’t one ’em soldiers,” he went on, fixing her with sunken hungry eyes, “which means no one important will miss her. Whatcha got in that bag o’ yers, missie? Sumthin’ you can share with the rest o’ us?”

Having encountered her second ‘shakedown’ in as many days, Asena was becoming old hat at recognizing it. And it was the accompanying flash of anger that snapped her out of her fright. She reached into her messenger bag, but not with the intention to share. Unless the men wanted to share the bullets from her handgun…

“That won’t be necessary, Ms Shiranui.”

The fright returned in an instant, and Asena swivelled toward the third voice, handgun at the ready. She heard faint gasps from the men behind her, along with their scurrying footsteps. She ignored them, training eyes and firearm upon the newcomer.

In stark contrast to the muddy landscape around him, the middle-aged man wore clean military fatigues, though not of a colour nor pattern Asena recognized. On his back was a bulging rucksack that looked to be Joint Forces issue, but he was otherwise unarmed. And yet, he faced her with posture relaxed and countenance softened by an inscrutable smile.

Asena didn’t know this face. But she certainly knew the voice that issued from it.

“It’s good to finally speak face to face, but I do have to ask… what took you so long, Dreamer?”