Riverport of Veraz, Capital of Clan Verazlan
Krandermore, Survivor’s Refuge
4453.2.23 Interstellar
The worst part of the trip had been a flash flood that knocked the Fudo-Maru around and, Captain Tanaka admitted sheepishly, would likely have capsized the Kamome or run her aground. Janus had made sure to thank Koni for making the switch, and Lira did as well. They’d spent a total of three days on the river. Even with the tentacarth attack, two short hunting expeditions, and a stop at one of the Motragi radio network points, Janus and the crew had managed to rest, maintain their vehicles, and clean their gear. He was itching to go.
He also noticed that Mick and Koni were getting along particularly well—nothing romantic, not that it would have mattered, but they ranged ahead during hunts, and sometimes Fury would join them.
Speaking of the jungle dragon, Fury seemed to sense Janus’s impatience and had taken to scorching small bits of the ship when she thought no one was looking—nothing serious, just some char marks to be scrubbed off—but while Janus scolded her and Captain Tanaka pitched a fit, she seemed to enjoy the ruckus.
It had been eleven days since they’d left Midnight Hollow, and they weren’t quite halfway on their journey. Janus was worried that they were falling behind, not because the score was a problem—as long as nothing changed, they would win by a comfortable margin as long as they crossed the finish line. He was worried that they were giving the other teams, and the compartmentalists in particular, too much time to plan and set an ambush for them.
They didn’t have a moment to waste.
Unfortunately, Clan Verazlan had other ideas. Even before the Fudo-Maru moored at Veraz’s largest dock, Janus saw throngs of people in bright Verazlan colors lining the river banks. They waved and pointed at them. Mick waved back, and Koni looked pensive.
“Think this is going to be a problem?” Janus asked Lira.
She didn’t answer right away, leaning her elbows on the railing. “I think we’re in for a triumph.”
“We could still lose.”
“I know that,” Lira said. “I mean like in Ancient Earth, before comm networks and space travel. I think it was called a ticker tape parade.”
“What in the void is ticker tape?”
“I have no idea. But it was meant to show everyone how great your civilization was. I think it means the Verazlan like us.”
Janus took a deep breath and let it out.
“No,” Lira said, glaring at him.
“What? I haven’t said anything!”
“You’re about to bring your baggage about what happened in Prime Dome into the conversation, and that’s not useful right now. We’re champions of the Irkallan Trials. We belong here. They’re lucky to have us.”
The river docks were literally overflowing with people. Janus watched as two well-dressed Verazlans tumbled into the water and had to get fished out.
“I’m being directed toward the dock reserved for dignitaries,” Captain Tanaka yelled, leaning out of the pilot house.
Janus clenched his teeth. He would have accepted this from the Motragi or even from the Pugarians—although he would have been very surprised if the elders of Hayyam had anything good to say about him or his team. Receiving this kind of treatment from the Verazlans was neither acceptance of them nor recompense for past favors; it was a blatant grab for whatever glory was attached to winning the Trials, which they seemed to think was a foregone conclusion.
“We’ll find a way to get something tangible out of it,” Lira said, guessing his thoughts.
Janus didn’t want anything to do with these people. He didn’t hate them, not individually, but they were the worst of the classist rot at the heart of Krandermoran society. “Let’s let Koni do most of the talking,” he said.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Lira answered.
***
“Is this really necessary?” Janus shouted over the noise of the crowd.
Lira had been right. It was a parade, although Janus would be shoved out an airlock if he knew what ticker tape was. After shaking hands with the city’s chief judge, who seemed to act as a sort of executor for the council of elders, the team had been bundled into two open-topped vehicles, with Lira, Mick, and Ryler in the rear, Janus, Koni, and Fury in the front.
The noise was deafening. Janus could have filtered some of it out if he’d had his helmet on, but Lira told him to leave it off. Men, women, and children cheered as they passed, throwing handfuls of colored paper leaves that twirled through the air as they passed. Lights blazed, reflecting off the clouds. Music was played by street musicians, from street corners and open windows, and from speakers mounted on civic buildings. The whole city was there to witness their arrival.
Veraz’s officials were determined to make sure that was true. They were headed toward the pedestal at the heart of the city, but the convoy took every switchback possible to allow the population to see “their” aspirant team.
Koni seemed transformed by the attention, smiling and waving at people like she knew all of them.
“Are you always this popular?” Janus asked.
“Never!” Koni said, the smile never leaving her face. “Have you never been a symbol of something greater, Janus Invarian? I thought you were a champion back on your planet.”
Janus started to answer, then caught himself when he realized what she’d said. “How did you find out?”
“Mick told me,” Koni said. “It felt obvious once he did.”
“Mick has a big mouth,” Janus grumbled.
Fury propped her front paws on the side of the car and let a burst of flame and sound loose toward the sky. The crowd loved it. Children ran after the car and called out her name. Fury looked at Janus for approval, and Janus sighed, giving her shoulder scales a scratch. “At least one of us is enjoying this. And yes, I was a champion back on Irkalla, but I didn’t get the chance to enjoy it.”
“This is your chance, Emissary,” Koni said.
Janus thought about it for a moment, and then he said, “Screw it.” He stood up and waved at the crowd, letting himself get drawn into the festive spirit.
The crowd loved it, shouting “Invarian!” and “Coldsider!” like those were good things, like he was one of them—no, like he always had been. It hit him harder than he’d expected, and soon, there were tears streaming down his cheeks. He thought of how he’d been robbed of the victor’s podium in Gemini Station. He thought of not being able to go back to Prime Dome and see the changes he’d hoped for among the Primers and outsiders. He thought about missing his sister growing up, his son being born, and the fact that Prometheus Base had been bombed from orbit and no one would ever see it the way it had been, and he felt the strangest combination of elation and utter despair.
Koni stood beside him, arm around his shoulders, and Janus realized it had to be the same for her. This was the city that had turned its back on her, that had given her up to outsiders. It was the city where her husband and son had died and where Copecki’s family waited. Janus had felt sympathy for her before when he’d first learned about her story, but this time, they were living it together.
They smiled at the crowd and waved.
***
The convoy stopped as they approached the oldest part of the city, and the team had to go on foot. Verazlan rangers lined the path to the center of the city, and the people—who Koni told him represented the lesser nobility of Clan Verazlan—were disciplined enough that Janus and the rest of the team never felt pressed as they walked.
Instead, it was the architecture that closed them in. It wasn’t just the orderliness of the people, the perfect security, and the immaculate repair of the structures—especially compared to the buildings in Hayyam. The buildings here were made of massive limestone blocks and columns decorated with raised friezes and murals of Verazlan achievements, and they were bigger than anything Janus had seen on this planet by an order of magnitude. Not only were the buildings at the heart of Veraz taller than most structures on Krandermore, ranging from ten floors to thirty-floor monsters, but they were wider and deeper than any of the buildings in Cofan or Hayyam. They had a weight to them that spoke of years of work and hundreds of workers.
They made even an aspirant feel small compared to Clan Verazlan.
“I don’t like it,” Mick said.
Janus looked at the Hunter, surprised. There was very little that Mick didn’t take in stride.
“You can see it, right?” Mick asked him. “Every one of these bastards walks through the world with these buildings on their backs.”
Janus snorted. “No wonder they think they’re big.”
He meant it as a joke, but Mick pressed his lips together.
“You okay, Mick?”
The Hunter blinked in surprise, then shook his head. “Been thinking. The free time on the river made some things fall into place for me.”
“Anything I should know?” Janus asked.
The procession was reaching its destination, a truly massive governmental palace that stood at the end of Veraz’s main avenue. The number of rangers increased, and the crowds of lesser nobles fell away.
“Let’s talk about it when we’re back on the road,” Mick said.
Janus nodded. He didn’t know what was bothering the Hunter, but he needed to find out. Janus relied on Mick for his martial skills, of course, but also for his unflappable humor and open point of view. Having Mick distracted during the Trials would be like having a foot injury, interfering with everything they did, and the sooner he tended to it, the better.
A crowd of robed figures walked out of the building, hoods raised, and they spread out to greet the aspirants in a way that felt either choreographed or well-practiced.
Their leader threw back her hood, revealing a face that looked very much like Koni’s, albeit twenty to thirty years older.
“Mother,” Koni said, bowing at the waist with her hand over her heart in a gesture Janus hurried to mimic.
The leader of the council of elders seemed amused by Janus’s attempt to fit in, but she turned her attention back to Koni. “Welcome home, daughter. We have awaited your return for too long.”