And the Righteous Shall Punish

Chapter 1

1

Kaiya gazed up at the hanged man. Beneath unyielding boughs the traitor surveyed his final place of struggle, throat bitten by the noose of justice – a collaborator and a symbol to all the people of Leth that retribution came swift and unforgiving. Six years that retribution had waited, patient and restrained, stirring inside those who suffered the consequences of loyalty. But now its time had arrived.

Kaiya gazed up at the hanged man, and the hanged man gazed down into her.

She knelt on the glossy black side street beside an old, six-storey terrace house. Leth was full of buildings like it, given its history of architectural repetition, but the southwest quadrant deserved its reputation for playing host to the most historical array of buildings in the town. Even the original fort still stood, the only connection to the top of an ancient wall that had guarded them for so long, failing only once in its duty.

Her father had taken her there twelve years ago, but the view remained imprinted on her mind: a plain stretching to the western horizon, broken in the north by the river, rising to hills and meadows in the south, and watched over by the mountains beyond. Behind her the rooftops and sprawling lanes of Leth hearkened back to a time when the wall had been more than ornamental sentimentality. And beyond, farther to the east, the Tarkinians brooded. Had they been preparing, even then, for the day that Leth would finally succumb?

Kaiya grimaced at the hanged man’s ceaseless staring.

She turned her attention back to a detached, hexagonal road tile, its natural darkness replaced with a cloudy quality. The surface was charred, probably from Allied Atlantica and the final days of fighting. She examined the base – sure enough, the repellent layer had been damaged. Her mother had always complained about their fragility. One explosion, even faint, could disrupt the temperamental technology.

Kaiya removed both the protective and circuitry layers and held the repellent layer close to her eyes. She had seen this injury too many times in the last few years. It was always very small – a subtle dent in a layer that required absolute flatness. She placed the injured layer against a tile mould and prodded the edges with her electroscalpel. The layer rippled as it reconfigured itself. A simple procedure. She inspected her work and replaced the four components of the road tile. Given the relatively minor damage, the surface would only take two days to regenerate.

Kaiya returned the road tile to its slot and started work on the next. The process was not demanding, just boring. She distracted herself with glances towards the hanged man, and found herself drawn to a holoboard resting on a terrace house wall. It was full of joy and smiling faces. An advertisement she’d not seen before.

RAPTURE

free yourself

The holoboard morphed again, back to its traditional snack food and drinks. Kaiya held the electroscalpel and road tile, mesmerised. There was something calming about the advertisement. Maybe it would return…

“Beautiful day,” came a man’s voice.

Kaiya turned her head towards a uniformed Allied Atlantica soldier.

“My apologies,” he drawled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She gripped the electroscalpel tighter. “I’ve seen you before. You’ve been watching me.”

If the soldier felt any embarrassment, he didn’t show it. “I can’t deny that, miss. Though, it is my job to patrol the southwest quadrant and… ensure peace.” He looked at the body of the hanged man. “It appears I’ve not been very successful.”

His face was too young to have seen much active service.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Kaiya indicated to the corpse. “Collaborator.”

“You knew him?”

“I’ve never seen him before in my life. What are you trying to say?”

“How do you know he was a collaborator?”

“People don’t just walk around hanging other people for fun,” she said. “Someone knew what he was and did something about it.”

“Makes sense,” the soldier said.

“Don’t patronise me.”

Kaiya separated the road tile’s top layers, doing her best to ignore the intruder.

“Would you care for some assistance, miss?”

“No,” she said, before reconsidering her tone. He was a soldier, after all. “I’m fine, thank you.”

She shoved the repellent layer against the tile mould, and ran her electroscalpel around the edges.

“Are you part of a team?” the soldier continued. “I’ve seen other road teams around the city. It’s a big job.”

“I prefer to work alone.”

The soldier continued to watch her as she worked. If she just stopped giving him attention, surely he would go.

Instead he approached again, and knelt nearby. He took out his own electroscalpel and began to remove a road tile.

“What are you doing?” Kaiya said.

“We are a reconstruction team. I’ve been trained—”

“No, I don’t care. Stop it!”

The soldier removed the road tile and examined its charred protective layer. “If you stimulate the circuitry layer in the right way, it can program its own healing.”

Kaiya shook her head. “No, that’s not the right way. You never stimulate the circuitry layer.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not the right way. Stop it!” She stepped forward and made to snatch the road tile out of his hand. He pulled it out of reach.

“Watch.”

He lay the electroscalpel against the circuitry layer, applying tiny surges here and there. Still attached, the repellent layer began to rearrange itself. “See, it works.”

“I never said it wouldn’t work,” she said. “Of course it works! It’s still the wrong way.”

The soldier removed another road tile. “I don’t see why. The application takes longer, but I don’t have to detach the repellent layer. It evens out.”

Kaiya sat back down where she had been working. “It doesn’t matter. The circuitry layer might have developed a fault. You have to treat the layer with the problem.”

“Not necessarily. The layers interact. The entire thing works together. It was designed to heal itself.”

Kaiya shook her head and separated another tile’s repellent and circuitry layers. Jaw clenched, she resisted the urge to use her electroscalpel on the stubborn soldier. Not that she would even reach him. But still, it was a nice fantasy.

He watched her, prodding circuitry, in no rush to leave.

“Have you been in this job for long?” he asked.

Kaiya stared resolutely at her current repellent layer and began to flatten it. She had, thank you very much, and she didn’t need some Atlantican ruining her work and pretending that was fine.

“You’re angry.”

“Really,” she said. “What gave you that impression?”

The soldier examined her. “I apologise. I’ll do it your way if it means so much to you.”

Kaiya stopped and looked back towards the hanged man and the holoboard behind. The advertisement had returned, and the odd need to watch until the very end.

RAPTURE

free yourself

It faded, leaving a tingle on her skin and a renewed consciousness of the soldier’s presence. “No,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter.”

The soldier continued to watch. She wished he would stop.

“Three years,” she said. “I’ve been doing this for three years. Mainly road tiles. Sometimes other basic bioelectrics. It’s not that exciting, but it’s money, and I’m good at it.”

“I can tell. You have some passion for it.”

She smiled. “I’m not sure I would call it passion. But things should be done right.”

The soldier caught her tone and placed his electroscalpel against the circuitry layer, grinning. “I agree.”

A woman walked by, body pulled in towards itself, trying to make herself invisible. She held hands with a small girl who struggled to keep up. Kaiya understood that desire to be on the street for as little time as possible.

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling?” she asked.

The soldier shrugged. “Isn’t much to patrol. Although…”

He glanced up at the hanged man. “I could be wrong.”

Kaiya followed his gaze.

“Why do you suppose that he is still there?” she asked.

The soldier replaced a road tile and stayed silent, waiting.

“People like him are worse than Tarkinians,” Kaiya began, then shook her head. “Forget it. You’re Atlantican. You won’t understand.”

She shoved a road tile back into place.

“I suspect the authorities have not been notified?” the soldier said.

Kaiya shrugged. “You’re the authorities.”

“Not for matters like this. I’ll let the police know.”

“You do that.”

The soldier gave no reaction, and continued on with his section of the side street. When would he leave? Atlanticans could never take a hint, and she didn’t need help from a soldier, of all people. He didn’t even heal tiles correctly.

“You’re ok with him staying there?” he said.

“Absolutely. The collaborators should know what’s coming. And the people should know that the collaborators will be punished. The police sure as hell won’t do it. And you lot won’t either… off in northeast quadrant. Might as well be in a different world.”

The soldier simply looked at her and began to remove another road tile.

“Will you please leave me alone?”

She glared at him, electroscalpel gripped tight. The soldier shifted his gaze and placed the tile gently back onto the street. Kaiya watched the electroscalpel in his hand, heart rate increasing, and shifted her weight ready to flee.

“Of course, miss,” he said, and stood. “Please feel free to seek our assistance at any time. We are here to help in any way.”

Kaiya scoffed.

The soldier departed with a final glance at the hanged man.

Finally alone again, Kaiya replaced the tile the soldier had been about to heal, and looked up at the holoboard. The Rapture advertisement had returned. She turned off her electroscalpel and watched, content simply to ponder the calming emptiness each viewing gave.

Her thoughts drifted from that damned soldier to other questions she had spent so long trying to pack away.

Where was Kormac?

Kaiya ambled up the centre of the boulevard, head down, half-attempting to count the damaged road tiles. From time to time she looked up and stared into the empty distance, familiar terrace houses looming from both sides. The boulevard ran straight from the town square to the southern gate, and not a single vehicle could use it. Even with all the teams and extra people working, it would take ages for cars to be functional again. It was indicative of the state of transportation all throughout Leth.

Still, the silence astounded her. At least she didn’t have to close her bedroom window every night to keep out the whine of poorly-tuned magnetic pads.

A woman emerged from a front door and gave a surreptitious glance at her surroundings before hugging herself tight and striding up the footpath. The glowstone anticipated her movement and illuminated the way ahead, fading back to its dull, perpetual glimmer.

What business did she have, being out at night?

Kaiya frowned to herself. She had to break that mindset.

Her own building beckoned, its high-balustraded entrance steps faded with time. The glowstone footpath registered her as she approached, obliterating that magical atmosphere of urban silence she’d never experienced until the Atlantican arrival a week prior.

Perhaps she should have spent the past three years damaging the road tiles instead of healing them. She could have had a good night’s sleep.

Kaiya took the first step towards her front door.

“Tilda!”

Her best friend sat on the landing, head resting against the balustrade.

“Where have you been?” Tilda said.

“I’ve been working in southwest quadrant.” Kaiya hugged her tight. “I’ve been meaning to see you. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it. I understand.”

Of all people, Tilda was the only one who could say that and mean it.

“What’s wrong?”

Tilda looked strained. “Can we go inside?”

“Of course.”

Tilda picked up her large duffel bag.

Kaiya tapped her identity card against the security module. “It’s a pity they haven’t fixed the Network yet. You wouldn’t have had to wait.”

They walked into the outdated entrance hall. The light panels on the walls sensed their presence and glowed faintly.

“Apparently the Network is completely destroyed,” Tilda said as they climbed the stairs of faded-blue carpet. How many years since the oaken handrails had been polished? The light panels followed them, lower levels fading back to nothing as they progressed to the fifth storey.

Kaiya opened the door to her apartment. Tilda dropped her duffel bag onto the hallway. “Thanks,” she yawned. “Can I stay a while?”

“Of course.” Kaiya locked the door behind her and checked it several times. “You know I love it when you stay.”

Tilda hugged her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Kaiya asked again.

“It’s nothing. I was just worried about you.”

Kaiya restrained herself from saying any more.

Tilda made herself comfortable on the couch while Kaiya changed. She rubbed her face over the sink and sighed, expelling the exhaustion of daily existence. How long had Tilda been waiting?

“Have you eaten?” Kaiya asked, looking in at Tilda from the central corridor.

They went about raiding the cupboards, searching for the simplest meal possible.

“Don’t you have any marashta?” Tilda asked.

“The tinned stuff? That’s disgusting.”

“It’s better than no marashta at all!”

“If it’s not the real stuff, it’s not worth it.”

Tilda rolled her eyes. “Perfectionist,” she whispered slowly in a sing-song voice.

Kaiya gave her a light backhand below the shoulder.

“I’ll do some shopping tomorrow. Promise.”

Tilda groaned. “God, what I wouldn’t do for the Network to be back up.”

“We could just go out, if you—”

“No,” Tilda said. “I don’t want to go out.”

Kaiya was taken aback. “Ok.”

“Let’s stay here. Take a movie.”

Kaiya glanced at Tilda, who made a great show of searching through one of the cupboards. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to get any channels, so we don’t have any other options. I’ll have to refill the VC, though. Its scent is weak.”

They decided on the last few frozen meals left. Tilda gave a pointed look and Kaiya reiterated her promise to go shopping again.

“You have to take care of yourself,” Tilda chided.

Kaiya escaped to the living room. She had been putting off refilling the Vision Caster, but she’d have to pull things together if Tilda were staying. Get rid of some of the mess.

The inky black screen rippled as she pulled out the scent receptacle, double checking she had chosen the right one. There would be no repeat of the mistake she had made the first time her mother had entrusted her with maintaining the device. Scent fluid in the kinaesthetic receptacle didn’t go down very well, apparently. The Vision Caster had been rather upset about that – not to mention her mother – and refused to function properly for three days, even after it had been cleaned. Her mother had to clear one of its memory chips to erase the traumatic experience.

A road tile was simple. Its biological component was primitive and had only one purpose – to heal itself. But the Vision Caster was almost alive, as far as Kaiya was concerned. Her mother had tried to explain it, but Kaiya couldn’t grasp the complexity of the bioelectrics.

Something she would have learnt in university, if she’d been able to go.

Kaiya emptied the thick fluid until it fit the narrow acceptable range, and touched the receptacle so it slid back in. Excited, the inky black began to dance around, darting back and forth in the direction of the refilled receptacle and away into every inch of the device.

This was a very happy Vision Caster.

She commanded it to complete a scent reset. The receptacle had been empty. No wonder the other senses had been dulled – the primary functions had attempted to compensate for lack of a fluid. She sat on the couch and experienced the Vision Caster’s reorganisation. It would have figured out within a day that the receptacle had been refilled, but Kaiya was in no mood for oversaturated scents while the device completed its own process. The Vision Caster experimented with variations on the seven primary odours in all intensities. The process was different every time, depending on how the internals had decided to rearrange themselves, but she had to make sure the Vision Caster didn’t make a mistake. The experience was quite lovely when the scent of jasmine in full bloom filled the room, but not as enjoyable when replaced with flatulent canine.

Tilda entered with two plates and placed them on the coffee table. Kaiya prodded her food with a fork and began to eat. “So what’s new in northwest quadrant?”

Tilda chewed for a while before answering. “Nothing. What have you been up to?”

Kaiya frowned at Tilda’s lack of news, then told her about the hanged man and the soldier.

“You didn’t even know him,” Tilda said.

“It doesn’t matter. He deserved it.”

Tilda stared and dropped her fork. “But you don’t even know what he did.”

“That doesn’t matter. He was a collaborator.”

“It does matter. It does!”

Kaiya clenched her jaw. Tilda was getting too upset about it.

“What kind of a collaborator was he? Maybe if he were someone like Bennett, I could understand, but everyone had to work with the Tarkinians to some degree.”

Kaiya shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Kaiya—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tilda forked her food around her plate. Typical soft traitor. So quick to forgive and willing to forget. People like her should have understood.

They ate in silence.

But still. She didn’t want to scare her away. She had forgotten how nice it could be to have company.

Sometimes.

Kaiya was looking at Tilda’s sunken face when a knock came at the door. Tilda grabbed her fork tighter. Kaiya put her plate back down on the coffee table and shared a brief look with her, their previous conflict brushed aside in the face of a sound that carried six years of ominous reputation.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Kaiya said, trying to convince herself as much as Tilda, who looked apprehensive.

Kaiya made her way out into the corridor and touched the viewpanel. A middle-aged man stood patiently outside.

Benjamin.