Approaching Kasanari
Krandermore, Survivor’s Refuge
4453.2.19 Interstellar
Janus drove the lead buggy into Kasanari. It was a sudden thing. The fog had been unrelenting, and despite Ryler’s assurances that he was fine, Janus had decided it was better to keep going at a slower pace than to have the cultist be completely wrung out as they reached their next stop.
The small fishing village popped out of the dense, swirling white fog one building at a time until Janus could make out the hazy shape of a small settlement built along the bank of the Iztacatl, a wide river whose fast waters would carry them north.
“Which clan does Kusanari belong to?” Janus asked Lira as they drove through the narrow entrance.
“They’re unaligned,” Lira said. “I guess there’s enough fishing and trade here to survive, but not so much they need the protection of a clan.”
“What kind of protection?” Janus asked.
Lira smirked. “Looking for another cause to fight for?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Janus asked.
Lira shrugged. “You’ve been pissed off since Ryler told you about your son. I figured you wanted to crack heads.”
“I kind of want to crack heads,” Janus said with a laugh. “Invarian temper. You think Xander will have that?”
“I’m sure he’s giving Lee hell, Janus,” Lira said. “Anyway, for once, I don’t mean violence. Mostly.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What usually happens is that if a village has strong enough economic indicators, Pugarians move in and either invest in local businesses or offer to fund local infrastructure projects.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“They take over.”
“Right.”
“They take over and push out the locals unless the locals fight back.”
“I should have seen that coming,” Janus said. “We were just in a Pugarian village.”
Lira grinned at him.
They were in the village proper now, and between the fog, the inefficient lighting, and the complete disregard of the pedestrians, Janus had to slow down to a crawl.
“So the choice is to either let the Pugarians take over or invite one of the other clans in?” Janus asked.
“Basically,” Lira said. “It takes work. The Motragi only accept a certain number of applications per year, and the Verazlan usually install one of their nobles as a mayor—it’s usually best to approach one of the families directly. If the settlement is far enough east, one of the coldside corporations might pick them up.”
The village of Kasanari was mostly made up of narrow, two-story wooden buildings. The roads were maintained well enough, and the villagers were healthy and clean but not prosperous. He saw a single market as they drove through, and fewer storefronts or merchant stalls than there had been in Hayyam, but there was clear craftsmanship in the way things were put together.
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There were contradictions here. Janus wondered if the villagers had chosen to hide or stunt their growth in order to keep the bigger powers at bay. Smart of them, if they were, but his soul rebelled against it. People shouldn’t have to make themselves small.
“I just wish there was another option,” Janus finally said.
“You mean, another option for us than siding with Nikandros to fend off the compartmentalists.”
“Yes,” Janus said. “Also that.” He activated his wrist-comm and checked the map before turning right. They were almost at the river docks. “But I’ve been thinking of that in more general terms. How many settlements did we visit during our first Trials?”
Lira thought about it. “Eight, counting Prime Dome, the Hunter caravan, and Prometheus Base.”
“It’s not enough,” Janus said.
Lira frowned and crossed her arms. “Janus.”
“Lira.”
“We changed our people so profoundly the Cult is thinking of wiping us out.”
“Yeah, and we’ve done something to boost our score higher than any other team. I just wish I knew why.”
“I’m sure you’ll find out,” Lira said, lightly punching him in the shoulder. “No matter how many thousand-year-old political structures you have to break.”
Fury growled from the back seat, and the cab filled with an acrid smell similar to gunpowder.
Janus chuckled. “Someone’s ready to stretch her legs.”
“Survivor’s blessed luck, yes!” Lira said. “It’s going to be good to be on a boat for a few days.”
***
Janus got out of the buggy and looked out at the river, hand still on the open door. His hazard indicators were yellow-yellow-green, with some trace indications of animal and bacterial presence, but otherwise perfect conditions. He cleared the others and pulled off his helmet.
There was a steady breeze coming off the Iztacatl, so that the fog was less dense here. Between two- and three-story riverboats, low-slung fishing boats, and long canoes, Janus could see the muddy-brown water streaming by.
It was several hundred meters to the other side, and Janus knew the water could be surprisingly deep in places. They would have had to use a boat or ferry to cross anyway, but stopping in Kasanari had the advantage of letting them find faster transportation that would allow them to both rest and patch their gear up on the way to Veraz.
Janus jumped as Fury threw herself—and her cage—against the straps. “Whoa! I’m coming!” he said, laughing as he hurried to open the rear door.
Fury pawed at the cage door while he fiddled with the latch, and she almost bowled him over as she scrambled to get out. Janus caught her, hugging her to his chest as he tried to get hold of the clip on her harness. Fury yelped and managed to lick his neck, which always made his skin tingle in ways that made him nervous, no matter what the chemical analysis said.
The others came and joined them.
“Having fun?” Ryler asked.
Janus felt himself stiffen a little, but he did his best not to show it. “Yeah. I guess we’re all tired of being cooped up.” He set Fury down, and the flame dog yipped, rushing to greet the other members of the team.
“She’s gotten a lot more sociable,” Ryler remarked.
“And heavier,” Janus said. “I’ll have to weigh her, but I think she’s close to fifteen kilos now.”
Mick whistled. “Not to take attention away from the team mascot, boss, but what’s the plan?”
Janus looked up and down the boardwalk. There were merchants, sailors, and fishermen coming and going, but no one seemed particularly interested in them. “Mick, you take Ryler to the local pedestal while Koni guards our gear. Lira and I will go and see about transportation.”
“Do you have a captain in mind?” Koni asked.
Lira nodded. “I have a contact I’ve been told is reliable.”
Koni caught Janus’s eyes, and Janus nodded. “Actually, Koni, you used to operate a boat on the Iztacatl, didn’t you?”
The Verazlan crossed her arms and nodded.
Janus looked between Lira and Koni. He trusted Lira to get the best deal out of just about anyone, but as skilled a negotiator as she was, she hadn’t spent her childhood on the river. “Looks like I’m the odd man out on this one, so change of plan. Lira and Koni, you go get us a boat. Fury and I will keep the gear safe.”
Koni seemed surprised. “Are you sure?”
“I’m told I need to trust my team,” Janus said, giving Lira a crooked grin that she returned. “Ryler, see how much the score has changed, and how much of it is due to this ‘externality’ you mentioned. I want to understand what the Cult thinks we’re doing that’s going to have such a big impact on everyone’s survivability.”
Ryler inclined his head. “Emissary.”
Janus grunted. Guess I didn’t hide my feelings about him as well as I thought I did.
The team grabbed their day-packs and weapons and headed off, leaving Janus and Fury with the parked buggies.
The flame dog panted, looking up at him with her intelligent burnt-orange eyes.
“Come on, girl. Let’s go patrol the waterfront.”
Fury answered with a happy flare of fire and curling smoke.