Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The system “remembers” the initial conditions which made a particular development possible, the beginnings of each new structure in its evolution. We may say, the system is capable of re-ligio, the linking backward to its own origin. In linking backward, the system “re-lives” its own experience—not in separable details, but in a sequence of holistic autopoietic regimes.

—Erich Jantsch, The Self-Organizing Universe

“You want to team up with one of the other tribes?” Heat scowled at the suggestion Serph had made at the start of the next day’s meeting. “Are you out of your mind? They’re the enemy, Serph. We’re talking about people who wouldn’t think twice about crushing us underfoot if they got a chance. And you want us to join up with them? No. What we need to do is take the initiative, strike first and take them out before they can do the same to us.”

Serph continued calmly, despite Heat’s objection. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought since yesterday. We’ve changed. That’s indisputable. And so the way that we fight needs to change, too. We need to consider new strategic approaches we haven’t considered before. Gale, what do you think about temporarily entering into a formal alliance with the other tribes?”

“There are several instances of cease-fire arrangements being made in the past,” Gale replied, “but these were all mandated by the Church, in order to correct more egregious imbalances in fighting capability, and were not entered into willingly by the combatants. What you suggest—the tribes themselves agreeing to a cessation of hostilities—has never been done, sir.”

“Then we’ll be the first,” Serph stated matter-of-factly. “From a tactical standpoint, which tribe would be the most likely to accept an offer to work together?”

“The following two tribes currently possess military strength rivaling that of the Embryon.” A three-dimensional image of the Junkyard appeared in the middle of the room. It was centered on the Golden Lotus itself, Sahasrara, with the other six areas forming a rough circle around it. A different color indicated each area, with the Embryon’s territory of Muladhara as well as the formerly Vanguard-controlled Svadhisthana both delineated in orange.

The territory to the northeast was Manipura, colored in red and labeled with the name “Maribel.” Serph had seen the woman who led them back at the Temple. To the southeast, colored in white, was Vishuddha, noted as being under control of the Wolves, the second most powerful of the five ruling tribes.

On the far side of Sahasrara, in yellow, was Anahata, the territory of the Solids. The girl who had attacked Serph in Sahasrara belonged to that tribe. To the north of the Solids were the Brutes, who controlled Ajna, the largest of the areas; their territory was colored in blue. The Brutes were universally recognized as the strongest of the factions in the Junkyard, due to their superior numbers and the more advanced weaponry they possessed.

Gale highlighted the Maribel in red and the Solids in yellow. “These two tribes are at constant odds with each other, and at present, they have managed to fight one another to a standstill. The slightest interference could shatter this balance of power completely. If we are to form an alliance, we should side with one of these two, and strike at the other.”

“I see,” said Serph. “Which do you recommend, then?”

Gale paused for a moment to consider. “I would suggest the Maribel. The leader of the Solids, Mick the Slug, has a reputation for being overly cautious. His tribe is somewhat lacking in terms of offensive prowess, but they are very well defended. If we were to present him with an offer of alliance, there is nothing to suggest that he would accept. Moreover, it is possible he would make a show of accepting such an offer, only to strike as soon as we let our guard down.

“Conversely, the Maribel are at an impasse in their attack on the Solids. Reports indicate that they are continuing to lose troops. Odds are much higher that they would accept an offer for an alliance. Also, since their forces are weakened, after we join with them and defeat the Solids, we will be in a prime position to overtake the Maribel as well.”

“Whoa, wait just a second.” Cielo rose out of his seat, visibly flustered. “You want us to team up with people and then stab them in the back?”

Gale simply looked back at him. “My understanding is that this is what our leader intends. Am I correct in that assessment, sir?”

“No, Gale,” Serph said. “You are not.”

Serph had expected Gale to suggest this tactic. As bishop, Gale had to consider anything that might give his tribe an edge. To him, victory was paramount, with other factors little more than noise in the equation. It was only natural that he would see a potential alliance with another tribe as nothing more than an opportunity to make up for their current lack of manpower, and to eventually place that tribe under their control, to solidify the Embryon’s own power base.

“I want to reach Nirvana,” Serph said, thinking back on what he’d felt the night before. “To do that, we have to win—we have to keep on winning, just like we’ve been doing. At this point, losing means death, and those who die are devoured. Without a corpse left behind to be taken up again with the rain, the soul doesn’t go back to the womb of rebirth. And without this rain, the Church isn’t going to be able to make more Newborns, either.”

“If that is the case, sir, then why do you propose something so irrational? If we are to form an alliance, it should be to enable us to take out two opponents at once. The way to Nirvana will be opened only for the last tribe standing. The Church has decreed it.”

“The Church isn’t what it used to be,” Serph countered. “The laws have changed, too. As far as I’m concerned, they’re the Church in name only. Argilla, if I were to be killed by one of the other tribes—let’s say the Solids—would you join them?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I wouldn’t.” Argilla had been sitting with her elbows on the table, and she sat up in surprise at the sudden turn in conversation. “I’m a member of the Embryon, now and always. There’s no way I’d ever sign up with another tribe, especially not one that had killed my leader.”

“Better to kill them right back, instead,” Cielo agreed. “But come on, buddy. Like anyone would ever take you out.”

Serph turned to Heat next. “How about you?”

“I’d step up and take your place,” Heat replied, his words blunt, with no sign of false bravado. His red eyes kept their scowl. “And then I’d do what Cielo suggested: destroy whoever took you out. For now, you’re our leader, and I recognize you as such. But I wouldn’t put up with anyone else here taking your place. A leader has to be strong, and that puts me next in line.”

Argilla raised her eyebrows, and Cielo let out a low whistle. For a long moment the air was full of tension.

“Such a turn of events is outside of my current considerations,” Gale said obliviously, calmly continuing his analysis. “As bishop of the Embryon, I am concerned with assuring our victory. Any fallout resulting from the death of our leader is a separate issue. Moreover, such an eventuality would be highly irregular, and my plans are designed to avoid any such circumstances. I cannot plan beyond such irregularities until after they have occurred.”

“So okay. None of us want to join another tribe.” Cielo said. “Then that means—”

“It means that the laws have already lost their effect,” Serph said.

Argilla and Cielo exchanged surprised glances; even Gale seemed taken by surprised. Only Heat’s face remained impassive.

It was an understandable reaction. In the event of a leader’s death, the remaining members of the tribe were absorbed by the tribe that had been their enemy—such had always been the way. And now they were realizing that this dictum, which had been central to law in the Junkyard, which people had always followed unquestioningly, was not immutable: each of them had shown they were prepared to disregard it without a second thought.

“We’re only just now realizing this because most of the members of the Vanguards are dead. But if there were many survivors left, we couldn’t expect that they’d just roll over and join up with us. The times have changed. If we were to take out another tribe’s leader, then the surviving members—much like all of you—might simply refuse to accept the circumstances. And then what?”

“So, um . . .” Cielo swallowed a lump in his throat as he looked back at Serph. “We can’t count on defeating another tribe to gain more troops?”

“We have already received several reports that speak to this question,” Gale said. “Some members of the Vanguards are still alive. Of those, some have surrendered to us, but intelligence indicates that many more have refused to give in, and are still resisting in various locations throughout Svadhisthana. Their forces are limited, and so we are able to deal with them for now, but there is a high probability that we will see other similar instances of resistance in the future.”

Cielo sighed in dismay. “Well now what do we do? There are barely enough of us as is to hold on to Muladhara, and if we try to expand our territory, not only do we not get more soldiers for our trouble, but we also have to deal with insurgents afterwards? Talk about screwed.”

“This is precisely why we need to team up with another tribe,” Serph said, more emphatic now. “We need to cooperate with others, not subjugate them. If we launch a surprise attack and take out another tribe’s leader, then as Gale says, we run the risk of losing troops without gaining replacements. We could end up with more enemies than we’re equipped to deal with. To avoid that, we need to find allies that we can depend on, and build a united front.”

“But in the end, only one tribe is allowed to enter paradise,” said Heat.

“Those are the old laws. That might not even be in effect anymore. Either way, I’m choosing to ignore it,” Serph replied, his tone firm. “I want to reach Nirvana, and I want to bring as many people as I can with me. If people want to fight me, then I’ll certainly fight back. But if people are willing to trust me, then we can defy the Church, or anyone else who wants to stop us, and get as many people as we can to ascend to Nirvana, regardless of what tribe they belong to.”

Argilla was the first to speak up. “Count me in. I don’t want to kill anyone we don’t have to. We should avoid conflict wherever we can. The leader of the Maribel is a woman, right? Maybe she and I can see eye-to-eye.”

“I like the idea too,” said Cielo, raising a hand. “It’s a good plan, buddy. I guess that’s why you’re the boss, instead of Red here.” He jerked his thumb at Heat, who slammed a fist into his shoulder. “Hey, easy, Red!”

“Is there something you want to say, Heat?” Serph asked, but Heat kept his mouth shut.

“That leaves you, Gale,” said Serph. “Any objections?”

“None, sir,” Gale replied with a measured nod. “However, I will need to create the details of the plan from scratch. This will require some time. Give me two hours, sir. I will send it to your private terminal as soon as it is complete.

“However,” he went on, “while I do not object to the plan, I must point out that you are all being somewhat irrational. Your thought process includes several leaps in logic. Please be aware that there are risks that I am not able to rule out.”

“Yeah, all right, Gale,” Serph said with a wry smile. “We’ll reconvene once Gale has drawn up his new plan. You’re all on your own time until then. Dismissed.”

“Serph.”

Serph was on his way back to his quarters to relax until Gale was done with his preparations, when Heat called after him. Serph turned back warily. “What do you want, Heat?”

“Were you serious about what you said back there?”

“Was I serious about what, exactly?” Serph could see the anger on Heat’s face; his red eyes narrowed with indignation at the question.

“You know what I mean,” Heat snarled, getting right up in Serph’s face. “Teaming up with another tribe is one thing, but you want to keep the alliance going afterwards? Kill or be killed—that’s how it’s always been here in the Junkyard. And whatever else may be going on, that hasn’t exactly changed. Have we all just forgotten that?”

“It’s devour or die now. Trust me, I know that,” Serph said. “If anyone tries to threaten us, we’ll fight back, same as always. But what will we become if we kill and eat people who mean us no harm?”

“Then we grow stronger. That’s the whole point!” Heat grabbed Serph by the arms as he spoke. He leaned closer and hissed into Serph’s ear as he pinned him against the corridor wall.

“You’ve forgotten something important. Eating others isn’t just for survival. It lets us grow more powerful. Look at what happened with Harley. It’s just like Angel said.”

Serph felt Heat’s breath like a hot wind across his face. The scent of blood hit his nose, and he could feel his throat starting to grow dry.

“While we’re here going on about taking the high road, everyone else is out there killing, eating, getting stronger. The longer you try to hold out, the weaker you’ll get. If you go on like this, sooner or later, someone’s going to hunt you down. They’ll beat you, and yeah, maybe they’ll even eat you. Or had you not stopped to consider that?”

The stench of blood was strong in the air. Heat’s eyes weren’t just the crimson red of fire—they had turned the hue of fresh blood. Serph tried to pull away, but he could barely even budge. The grip on his arms tightened, and he let out a tiny groan. “Heat, let go of me.”

“You can’t make it to your precious Nirvana if you’re dead.” Heat put more force into his grip. “Either you get eaten, or you eat someone else and you live to see another day. That’s how it is in the Junkyard now. Teaming up? Alliances? How long do you think a pipe dream like that can last?”

“Let go of me. Now!”

Serph felt the rage well up within him. A white light shone underneath Heat’s clutched hands, and almost instantly, a thick mist sprang up between the the two men.

When the mist cleared, Heat’s hands and Serph’s arms were coated in frost. Serph’s forearms had turned grayish-white, and they were covered in a thorny carapace. Holes opened in his palms, and he felt the sharp blades of bone within ready to shoot forth the instant he willed it.

“That’s more like it! This is how you survive in the Junkyard!” Heat quirked his lips in satisfaction before finally letting go. His frozen skin made a crackling sound, but he showed no sign of feeling any pain.

“Remember this, Serph. The rules haven’t changed. Things have only gotten more relentless, more merciless, that’s all. And that’s how I like it. Deep down, so do you. So go and fight. Eat. It’ll be fun.”

“You’ve certainly eaten more than your share of people who couldn’t fight back.”

“Oodles,” Heat said with a grin. Serph was used to that sardonic smile, but now Heat’s canines looked somehow bigger. They were more like fangs now. “But they were weaklings, not even worthy prey. Barely enough to whet my appetite. But the surviving Vanguard troops, well, now they might sate the hunger a little bit. Gale did say there were still some around.”

“Some of them might still want to surrender.”

“We don’t need weaklings like them in the Embryon. Better for the weak to become food for the strong. That way at least they’re useful.”

“Heat!” Serph snapped, and as he did, he heard a loud clatter from around the corner. Both men turned and looked back at the source of the sound.

Sera was standing there with an empty tray held against her chest, her face pale with shock. “I was, um, finished eating, and I was just going to take this back,” she muttered.

Heat clicked his tongue, then shoved Serph away and stormed off down the corridor. “Don’t forget to tell Gale to give me a demerit for insubordination, boss,” he called back. “Assuming the robot hasn’t already sensed it and noted it down somewhere.” He disappeared around the corner, his cape with its large Embryon-orange cross trailing after him.

Sera hurried up to Serph and nervously grabbed onto his arm. “Serph, what’s going on? It looked like you two were fighting. Why is Heat so upset?”

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Serph said.

Yes, it was nothing for Sera to worry about. Heat was just angry because he thought his leader was being weak-willed. A leader needed to be strong, needed to be better than the leaders of the other tribes—or at the very least, he had to be an example to his own.

Or maybe I just don’t want to get my own hands dirty, Serph thought. Maybe that’s all this is about. As leader of the Embryon, Serph had a responsibility to be strong for his tribe, and now more than ever he wanted to get as many people as he could into Nirvana. If he didn’t slaughter and devour his enemies, sooner or later, somebody else probably would get the better of him, and then what would become of his tribe?

From a certain perspective, hadn’t he always been killing his foes and feasting on them to grow more powerful, even before his Atma had manifested? Even if he hadn’t literally been eating their flesh, was there any real difference, when all was said and done, between what he’d done then and what everyone was doing now? He didn’t have a good answer for that.

Heat was right. So was Gale, for that matter. At the end of the day, the Junkyard was a hellish purgatory where the strong devoured the weak in order to survive. With their Atma drawing out this new hunger inside them, that fact became all the more tangibly evident. There was no point trying to deny it.

Serph reached out and gently stroked Sera’s black hair—his hands had already reverted to their normal form—but he looked past her worried face in the direction that his long-time confidant had stormed off. Drops of blood from Heat’s cracked hands formed a trail of red dots along the floor. Perhaps Heat had seen through Serph’s desire to be the only one without sin—the mask he’d used to conceal his cowardice.

“I wonder where the people who used to live here went?” Argilla murmured as she took stock of the landscape.

Heat snorted as he brought up the rear. “This place is a war zone. I think what happened here is pretty obvious.”

“No, I meant, like, before all the fighting.” Argilla gestured toward the ruins before them with one hand. Buildings lay tumbled on their sides, abandoned vehicles littered the roads, and rusted shutters creaked in the wind. Twisted streetlights lined the roadways, and the crumbling asphalt was spiderwebbed with cracks.

“Sera asked me what sort of people lived in this city before it got this way. She mentioned things called ‘houses’ that people lived in. ‘Stores’ where people would do something called ‘shopping,’ and ‘cars’ that people could drive.” Argilla’s voice grew quieter as she walked, until she was brought to silence for a time by their somber surroundings.

“Anyway, that’s how Sera described it,” she eventually continued. “She said that a city doesn’t just start out a war zone. It had to have been full of people going about their daily lives, all hustle and bustle. And before the Junkyard got the way it is today, maybe it was full of life like that, too, and maybe—”

“Maybe they didn’t fight,” Heat said with a dismissive grunt. “That girl isn’t right in the head. Who knows what the Church even wants with her? We’re put here to fight. Nobody has the luxury of coasting through life without conflict. Well, except maybe the warrior priests.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Argilla protested. “Sera said she doesn’t know how she knows these things. She just knows them.” She paused, and let out a longing sigh. “I bet wherever she came from it was like what she’s describing. That’s what Nirvana must be like. A place full of light and beauty and joy, without all this fighting. Someplace wonderful.”

“Be quiet, both of you,” Serph cautioned. They were coming up on the border of Manipura. “Another two klicks and we’ll be in Maribel territory. We should expect hostiles, and prepare for incoming fire—or some other attack. Anything is possible.”

Since the appearance of Atma, the frequency of firearms use in engagements had decreased markedly. Those with weaker Atma were still at risk of being killed if they were surrounded by a number of humans in a coordinated onslaught, but by and large, conventional weaponry tended to be ineffective against those who had unleashed the power of their Atma. The battle with Harley had shown that well enough.

Serph, Heat, and Argilla had brought their usual firearms with them, nonetheless, but that was more out of habit and for peace of mind. Any battles they fought would be decided with Atma.

Heat and Argilla went quiet at Serph’s command. He could feel that the air was strangely heavy, and he brought a hand to his cheek to touch the pulsing Atma symbol there with his fingers. There was a prickling sensation, and a faint blue aura flickered at the edges of his vision.

Enemies nearby. Serph could sense them—several individuals with Atma, brimming with hostility, very close and getting closer. His Atma was activating in response to theirs. It screamed for release, to be unleashed upon its quarry.

It wanted to feast on flesh and blood. On life. On power.

“It would be preferable to send a relatively small team,” Gale had said, speaking to the assembled group in the briefing room prior to the start of the mission. “If we send in a larger team, the Maribel may well think that they are under attack, and react accordingly. Also, if our goal is to conduct direct negotiations with their leader, then it behooves us to send our own leader, in order to establish a rapport on equal footing. Two people should accompany him for protection. Are there any volunteers?”

“I’m in,” Heat said emphatically. He flashed a glare at Serph, and the look in his eyes would brook no protest. Serph didn’t say anything. They both knew that Heat was the most accomplished combatant in the tribe after Serph himself.

Argilla chimed in next. “I want to go, too. The leader of the Maribel is a woman. Also, Heat’s not exactly the greatest conversationalist.”

“Very well,” Gale said. He looked to Serph, who gave a nod of confirmation, then continued with the briefing. “I will remain here and provide backup for the ground team. Cielo will continue to keep an eye on Sera and see to her well-being. I take it she is remaining docile?”

“Yeah. I feel kinda bad for her,” Cielo replied, nervously kicking at a table leg. “I mean, she’s probably just really bored, doing her best to keep quiet. I go and talk to her when I can find the time, and that seems to make her happy. She’s got a lot she likes to talk about. Things like the ‘sky.’ And ‘dancing.’”

“Then she seems to be in good hands,” Serph said. “Gale, how much personal weaponry do you think we should bring along?”

“The sheer force of Atma outclasses conventional firearms by several orders of magnitude. Unleashing one’s full potential can neutralize an opponent almost instantaneously. In any case, seeing as the goal of this mission is to establish discourse, you should carry only reasonable self-defense weaponry to avoid giving the impression that you are seeking a confrontation.

“Also, so that we can stay in communication, you should take this, and keep it at your ear.” Gale produced a small device no bigger than a fingertip. “This acts as a transceiver. With it, I will be able to provide you with further data as I analyze it. It transmits sound only, but will still allow me to stay apprised of your situation.”

Serph nodded and took the device.

“I am currently selecting individuals who possess highly mobile Atma from within our ranks,” Gale went on. “In the event that negotiations should break down, there will be a team of reinforcements available for immediate deployment from the front line. If you sense any danger, call them in at once.”

Gale reached down and pulled out a set of small pouches from a box on the floor beside him. “These,” he said, setting them down and pushing them forward, “contain ampules of Sera’s blood. If you anticipate that your Atma might be at risk of going out of control, take them.”

“Is she all right?” Serph asked as he pulled one of the pouches closer and looked inside. It contained a small package about the size of his palm, and within were twenty ampules of blood, arrayed in two neat rows.

“There were no adverse effects on her health. To outfit three of you, I needed only two hundred milliliters of her blood.”

“I don’t need that stuff.” Heat snorted, tossing his pouch aside. “I’m not putting that junk in my body. If I get the urge to feed, I’ll just hunt down something to sate the appetite.”

“Don’t you dare waste something Sera sacrificed to give to us!” Argilla exclaimed, hurriedly picking up the pouch. “I’ll bring it just in case. This will all be one big waste of time if we wind up eating the people we’re trying to make nice with because someone couldn’t control their urges. This is why I said you’re not exactly ideal for peace talks.”

As Argilla put away the pouch, Heat asked, “You don’t plan on eating, Argilla?”

“No, I don’t,” Argilla replied irritably. She glared at him before she went on. “Because I’m human. I could never want to rip apart and devour another person. And now that we have Sera’s blood, I don’t have to.”

“So, you’re surviving off the blood of Sera instead of your enemies,” Heat sneered. Argilla swallowed, but offered no response. Heat went on. “You’re not going to find many people who’ll just let you eat them. The girl’s a rare exception. But you’re still eating someone, Argilla. So can the high-and-mighty act.”

Argilla’s face darkened. “No, I—”

Serph snapped at them to be silent, then made a point of storing away his own set of ampules. “We should keep these on us at all times as a precautionary measure. Though we should also keep in mind that in the future, we might not have Sera to help us out like this if we lose control. There’s a lot we still don’t fully understand about our Atma and how they work. But for now, we need to focus on forging this truce with the Maribel. Remember that.”

Cielo let out a breath he’d been holding. Argilla fumbled to put her portion of the ampules away. Serph strode out of the briefing room, aware of Heat’s gaze burrowing into his back as he left.

“Here they come,” Argilla whispered.

Serph nodded, feeling the pulsing in his cheek grow stronger as the throbbing sensation began to spread through the rest of his body.

The three companions were less than a kilometer from the Maribel base now, and Serph’s heart was pounding harder than was natural. He did his best to ignore the sound of his own breathing echoing in his ears and focused his attention on what was around him. The Atma brands on Argilla’s chest and Heat’s arm likewise called out for blood, glowing and pulsing—Argilla’s a deep pink, Heat’s a bright crimson.

Enemies were near.

With his enhanced senses, Serph could feel the presence of individuals hiding behind cover.

Yes, enemies. Enemies had come.

Prey had come.

Small, black shapes darted between the shadows of half-collapsed buildings, too quickly to make out.

Heat raised his head and looked around, grinning as he licked his lips. “Oh, we’ve got a feast waiting for us.”

At the edges of vision, more signs of movement danced about with each passing moment, though no figures ever came fully into view. The sounds of scrabbling claws and fluttering wings filled the air, and a whispering rasp like that of rustling paper grew louder and louder, sending an unpleasant tingling sensation along Serph’s spine.

“I am reading multiple heat signatures converging on your location,” came the crackling sound of Gale’s voice through the transceiver in Serph’s ear. “The device can only scan out to a range of roughly fifteen meters, but I can detect approximately thirty heat signatures in just that area. They are not close enough to pose a serious threat, and I am not detecting anything of an inordinate size, but be on your guard.”

Serph caught fragments of the shadows’ crazed whispers.

“I want the girl. Those full breasts, those succulent thighs, made of luscious, fresh meat . . .”

“The man with the silver hair is mine. Oh, look at that lovely face!”

“That third one, with the red hair—he will make a fine meal. He will be a source of terrific power.”

Heat lifted up one hand, the motion almost casual.

“Heat, stop!”

A moment later, Heat’s arm changed into that of his Atma, creating a ball of fire the size of his clenched fist, and despite Serph’s exclamation, he launched it towards the roof of the building where most of the approaching figures had converged.

There was a keening explosion followed by a low rumble, and then a series of screams. Various forms were scattered in all directions, and something with large wings and the head and torso of a woman flapped its way up into the sky. Heat grinned to himself with satisfaction.

“Heat, we came here to talk, not to start a fight!”

“Yeah, I know. But this situation here gave me a bad feeling. So I figured I’d do something about it. And look, it worked.”

“I can no longer detect any heat signatures,” came Gale’s voice in Serph’s ear. “Heat’s attack has increased the ambient temperature of the area too much. However, I did detect the signatures of what I believe to be enemies fleeing from the area of increased heat. I do not expect that any hostile Atma are within the detection radius.”

“Acknowledged, Gale,” Serph replied. He shot a quick glance over at Heat and continued moving. For now, he still needed to focus on striking up negotiations.

Before long, they came to a concrete wall roughly five meters high, with a set of massive iron doors that were pocked with rust. The wall had been painted with the crimson red of the Maribel tribe, but countless bullet holes, deep scoring, and burn marks that were all balefully reminiscent of the destroyed Vanguard base had destroyed most of the paint.

There was no sign of anyone there, and no one called to challenge Serph and the others as they would have expected at an enemy stronghold. The Maribel must have known there were intruders in their domain, and yet no one stood guard atop the walls. The barrels of the machine gun emplacements pointed in no particular direction, unmanned.

Argilla was on edge as she regarded their surroundings. “This place can’t have been wiped out already, right?” she said. “Do you think it’s like what happened with Harley’s men?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Serph said. “When I went to the Temple, I saw their leader, Jinana. So she’s still alive. Or at least she was.”

Then the massive iron doors creaked, and there was a low rumble as they began to slide open.

Just inside the doorway, a score of men and women stood in formation. They were armed and clad in combat uniforms, but their expressions were painted with unease, their faces contorted with tension. At their center stood a tall woman with bright green hair and matching eyes. One of her slender legs had been splashed with the crimson color that marked her tribe. Her head held high and a hand on her hip, she shot a contentious gaze at the newcomers.

Serph noticed a teardrop-shaped marking painted on one of her cheeks—one that hadn’t been there when he’d seen her back at the Temple. The stern look on her face intensified as she recognized him, and she gritted her teeth so hard that Serph could see the muscles stand out along her jaw.

“You can stop right there,” she called out. Her voice was low and hoarse, and yet it still carried a note of authority. “We detected your approach an hour ago. What do you want here, Embryon? Clearly this isn’t an invasion. Unless you really thought that you could take down Jinana and the rest of the Maribel with just the three of you?”

The troops on either side of her shifted into a more defensible position. It was a movement that clearly showed ample training on their part. Jinana glanced at them and waved a hand, as if to say, “Not yet.”

“We didn’t come here to fight you, Jinana of the Maribel.” Serph gestured for Argilla and Heat to stay back, as well, and then stepped forward alone. Jinana watched him curiously.

She looked a few years older than Argilla. Her deep green hair didn’t quite come down to her shoulders, and her long bangs fell in front of one of her eyes. She wore a custom-fitted suit tailored to emphasize her breasts and buttocks—the costume of a leader confident in both her looks and her abilities. All told, her well-balanced frame and long limbs made for an impressive fusion of fighting prowess and form.

“So what does bring you here, Serph of the Embryon? I recognize you from the Temple. You’ve got guts, coming here in person.”

The Maribel troops began to edge forward. Serph couldn’t blame them: here was the leader of the tribe that controlled both Muladhara and Svadhisthana, having marched into the midst of their territory with only two soldiers to defend him. Killing a tribe’s leader spelled death for the tribe, and if the Maribel killed Serph right here and now, they’d be in control of three areas in one fell swoop.

“Steady now, men,” Jinana called to her troops. “Let’s hear why our friend has come—after he takes that thing out of his ear. The Embryon’s bishop has been listening in on all of this. He’s a sharp one, and I’d rather we keep the conversation here just between us. If you want to talk, we can talk. One on one.”

A worried look crossed Argilla’s face. “Sir?”

“It’s all right, Argilla. Did you get that just now, Gale?”

Serph reached up to his ear and pulled at the thin cable connected to the socket behind his earlobe. The transceiver came free of his ear and fell into his hand.

“Sir, I do not recommend cutting off communications,” came Gale’s voice from the transceiver, actually sounding somewhat worried for once. “You are vastly outnumbered, and I have detected the presence of heavy ordnance. Hold position, and reinforcements will be at your location shortly.”

“It’s all right, Gale. Have them hold off for now. Wait for me to contact you again. Do not take any actions until you have my say-so. That’s an order. Serph out.” Once he finished speaking, he clenched his fist around the device, hard. There was a dull whimpering sound as it died, and then Serph opened his hand, letting the broken pieces fall to the ground. “Are you satisfied, Jinana?”

“Very well,” Jinana replied with a nod. She motioned with her head, and her men stepped out from behind her. They trained their guns on Argilla and Heat, prompting them to step back.

“What the hell?” Heat griped.

“Jinana,” Argilla called out. “We didn’t come here for a fight. We came here to talk!”

“So you say,” Jinana said, dismissive and curt. “Serph, come with me.”

Heat still looked like he might tear someone apart, and Argilla’s face radiated panic. Serph shot them a look, wordlessly urging them to stay calm, and then quietly stepped forward.

“Drop your weapon,” said Jinana. “Your two friends, too. You’re to do exactly as I say from here on out.”

“All right. Heat, Argilla, do as she says,” Serph replied, pulling his gun from its holster and dropping it to the floor. One of the soldiers quickly snatched it up. Argilla looked like she was going to resist, but upon seeing Serph relinquish his weapon, she bit her lip and unslung her rifle from her shoulder and handed it over. Heat bared his fangs in a threatening grimace, but after Serph spoke his name sharply, he unholstered his gun and surrendered it.

“You’re coming inside to talk to me alone, Serph of the Embryon,” Jinana said, giving Serph another once-over to check for any other hidden weapons he might be carrying. “Your two friends will wait out here. If they make any trouble, we’ll be forced to take appropriate measures. Maybe disarming you won’t make a difference, but let me remind you that you’re outnumbered a hundred-to-one here.”

“I understand,” Serph replied. He turned to Heat and Argilla. “Wait here until I get back. Do not under any circumstances invoke your Atma. And please, try not to make a scene, okay?”

“This is bullshit,” Heat snarled, the brand on his forearm glowing faintly. “If we just roll over for these people, we—”

“Understood, sir,” Argilla replied, cutting him off. “I’ll keep Heat in line. You go and have your talk.”

Serph gave them a final nod and wave, then turned around. Jinana was waiting for him by the door. She ushered him inside, alone. The door to the Maribel base closed with a heavy thud behind him.

“Looking for something?”

“No,” Serph said, interrupting his quick inspection as he made his way inside, following after Jinana and her armed guards. “I’m just impressed at how your headquarters looks so different than ours.”

Jinana let out a quick snort. “Impressed? Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” she replied dubiously, but after a few steps, her facial expression finally relaxed, perhaps due to the relief of being on her own home turf.

“For starters, our base isn’t nearly this well organized,” Serph continued. Probably because their tribe was much larger, the Maribel’s living quarters were much better appointed than the Embryon’s. Unlike the Embryon base, with its cracked concrete walls and exposed ducts, the hallways here had full and even coats of paint, and the floor was lined with white plastic tiles that were easy on the feet. The lighting was far better, too. Evidently they could afford to allow for form as well as military function.

Serph figured that he was seeing only a low-priority section of the Maribel facility, since it was unlikely they’d take him anywhere of critical importance. Even so, from what he was seeing here, he had a whole new impression of how this tribe compared to his own.

“You’re a strange leader, Serph of the Embryon. You’re not one for military discipline. I could tell that the moment you showed your face back at the Temple.” Jinana turned and looked closely at Serph. With his silver hair, silver eyes, and androgynous face, he was someone who stood out in a crowd—and even if he hadn’t, it was common sense for a leader not to let his rivals see what he looked like when they were all gathered together.

“And yet you stepped out from behind your screen to show yourself, as well,” Serph pointed out.

“A misstep on my part. I should not have been so impulsive,” Jinana replied with obvious regret in her voice. “At this point, I suppose it hardly matters, but at the time, I was just so fed up with the Church’s attitude.” No sooner were the words out than she snapped her mouth shut and looked warily at Serph, as if to gauge his reaction to the blasphemy she’d just uttered.

“I understand,” Serph replied, and Jinana’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “I’m finding it difficult to go along with the Church lately myself. Especially now, with what that strange voice calling itself Angel was saying.”

Jinana’s eyes grew wider still; her relief was plain.

“Already, people are starting to ignore the old laws,” Serph said. “And that got me thinking. That’s why I’ve come to talk to you today. I’d like to propose a partnership with the Maribel.”

Jinana had started to move on, but immediately stopped in her tracks again. Serph looked back at her, right into her bright, green eyes, with all the sincerity he could muster. “There’s no reason why only one tribe should be able to ascend to Nirvana. I think as many people as we want can make it there, as many as would like to go.

“And that’s why I’ve come to talk to you about my plan, Jinana. Back at the Temple, I saw how upset you were at the loss of your people. And I empathize with the pain you feel. If we can work together as allies, maybe we can avoid going through any more of that pain.”

Jinana looked away, saying nothing, and abruptly started walking again. Serph could see that she was recomposing herself. She led Serph toward the far end of the hallway they were in, eventually stopping in front of a door there. She brought her hand up to the door panel, then stood for a moment before addressing the two guards who had accompanied them. “Granato, Zaphir, you’re dismissed,” she said quietly.

“But ma’am, we’d be leaving you alone with the enemy.”

“Granato is right, ma’am. This could be all some trick. He might attack you the moment he’s got you alone.”

“And you think I’m fool enough to be beaten?” Jinana snapped at them. “I said dismissed. Go outside and wait with the others. No one enters this room until we come out.”

The two guards clearly disapproved of the order, but rather than face further reprimand, they saluted and headed back the way they had come, though they did turn and look back several times along the way. Only when they were out of view did Jinana say, “Come in.” The door panel lit up as she released the lock. “These are my private quarters. Nobody else has ever been in here before.”

The room was huge, much larger than the standard-issue quarters Serph himself had. The walls were painted in soft, warm colors, with the floor a darker shade of the same. Despite being in the heart of enemy territory, Serph found himself awash with a sense of calm.

A partition divided the room. Serph could see a large bed and what appeared to be a shower stall on the other side. Jinana’s private terminal was larger than the generic model Serph used, with multiple monitors hooked up to it. It appeared that she’d had no difficulty requisitioning the best equipment for herself. Even the chair in front of her terminal was huge and finely made, unlike any chair Serph had ever seen. In contrast to the flat benches he was used to, this chair had a nice, firm back, padded for support and comfort. He let out a soft chuckle despite himself.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ah—nothing,” Serph said, masking his laughter. “I’m just thinking that it must be nice to be the leader of such a large tribe. I bet you can sit in that chair for hours without getting sore.”

“You are a strange one,” Jinana said with a shrug as she took a seat in the chair. “But before we get started, let me see your Atma. I don’t recognize the symbol on your cheek. Is it one of the High Atma?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Serph said, bringing a hand to the brand on his cheek. In his head, he envisioned the words of the activation command mentioned in the Church’s archive file—om mani padme hum. His cheek grew warm, and waves of energy rippled through his whole body. All of his senses shifted, and he became aware of things that mere human eyes and ears could never hope to. The pulses of energy welling up within him forced him to open his eyes—open them to something more.

He saw Jinana—no, he felt her. She leaned back slightly in her chair, bracing herself instinctively. Even though she’d asked to see Serph’s Atma, she was nevertheless overawed by the transformation taking place before her eyes.

The world became something beyond human ken and experience. The green-haired woman radiated heat and energy that Serph could feel deep inside him. Something beyond his control made his throat ache and his mouth grow dry. With conscious effort, he was able to usher it away, stressing inwardly to himself that this was not a fight. Where was Jinana’s brand? He could feel it in his very skin, activating in response to his own Atma triggering.

“My Atma’s name is Varuna,” he said. “It commands the power of ice, and wields blades from both of its arms.” His voice came out of his mouth distorted. This was the first time that his Atma had taken form due to invocation of the command words rather than in response to the heat of combat. He opened up one of his arms, allowing the blade to slide out from within. It was a blade of bone, a curved and graceful implement of death. Jinana stared at its gleaming sharpness as if paralyzed by its bright edge.

“That’s enough,” she said, voice tight with tension. “Change back.”

Serph released the transformation. Bit by bit, his expanded senses dwindled back to normal, and for a moment he was crushed by the feeling of his own insignificance.

That was risky. Evidently, activating one’s Atma could enhance the bearer’s mood. That was likely the first step in triggering the urge to devour. There was a good chance that calling upon that power too recklessly would result in one getting lost amidst those enhanced emotions, unable to turn back; Serph reminded himself that he would need to be very wary of that.

“If you don’t object,” he said, “I’d like to see your Atma. But I won’t insist.”

“My Atma is called Ushas,” Jinana said, more readily than Serph had expected. “Though I’d rather not transform just now. I cannot yet control it as well as you can.”

“Fair enough,” Serph conceded.

Jinana gestured to another chair across from her, and Serph took a seat. “Let’s get back to what brought you here,” she said. “What exactly do you intend by forming an alliance between the Embryon and the Maribel?”

Serph described his plan to her, taking care to go into detail while explaining the logic behind it. The idea to work together had come to him the night before, after he’d sent Sera back to her room. After Argilla’s vocal criticism of the Church, he’d remembered seeing Jinana’s face back at the Temple, outraged at the change the Church had thrust upon them.

If there were others who detested the idea of having to devour people, he had thought, then it should be possible for him to work together with them. For the Embryon this would have the obvious benefit of supplementing their lack of manpower, but what drove Serph even more than that was the image he had of Jinana, struggling with a grief for which she had no outlet. Serph had already figured that he might be able to talk to her without things turning violent even before Gale had proposed the Maribel as a potential ally. Serph had taken his bishop’s analysis as a sign that he was on the right track.

Considering their shared opposition to, and distaste for, both the Church and the concept of cannibalism, Serph figured she would be willing to listen, and might well like the idea of the mutual boost his plan would provide to their dwindling military capabilities. The Vanguards had destroyed themselves feeding on one another, and given what Jinana had said at the Temple, Serph guessed that the Maribel had not gone unscathed.

After Serph had finished speaking, Jinana was quiet for a while, considering. At last she lifted her face and stared at him directly. “I think I get what you’re saying,” she said. Her green eyes shone with the solemn dignity of a leader. “But, what do the Maribel gain by allying with the Embryon? You claim that teaming up will bolster our fighting forces, but who’s to say you won’t turn and attack us as soon as we’ve helped you defeat your other enemies? It would be the smart move, after all. Never in the history of the Junkyard have two tribes worked together like you suggest. But there have been instances of one tribe backstabbing another after the Church has ordered an armistice.”

“I can’t claim that the same thought hadn’t occurred to me,” Serph admitted. “In fact, that was what Gale—our bishop—initially suggested. But I wouldn’t hear it. Allying with the Maribel is my decision, and as leader of the Embryon, what I say goes. All I need now is for you to trust me, Jinana.”

“Trust?” Jinana’s green eyes narrowed. Her gaze was piercing as a dagger, but Serph didn’t flinch. “That’s a strange-sounding word. What does that even mean, ‘trust?’ Fighting each other is what the tribes do. We aren’t like the rank and file who change allegiance if our leader dies—you and I are the leaders, Serph of the Embryon. We have no choice but to be enemies.”

“If that’s true, then why hear me out at all?” Jinana was visibly taken aback, and Serph went on. “You know that taking our weapons was a meaningless gesture. Invoking our Atma would allow us to do far more damage than any mere firearm would. And you even went so far as to ask to see my Atma. So why?”

“I . . .” For the first time since he’d come in, Serph saw uncertainty on Jinana’s face. She lowered her head and brought a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t think you meant any of it,” she said at last, as if she couldn’t even believe her own words. “You said that you’d come to talk, that you hadn’t come looking for a fight. I’d never heard an enemy claim that before. So I thought I’d see how things played out. I was certain that it was some kind of trick, that you’d attack as soon as the opportunity presented itself, and that I’d defend myself with my own Atma.”

“But I haven’t tried to kill you. We haven’t attacked your men. You know at least that much is true so far. And in addition to the tactical merits I’ve mentioned, there’s one more thing we can do for the Maribel.”

“And what’s that?”

Serph was reluctant to say more. Before leaving for the mission, Gale had insisted that the girl’s existence remain a secret. He had to choose his words very carefully.

“We have a way to keep our Atma from going berserk.”

Jinana’s chair fell to the floor with a thud as she leapt to her feet. Her body shook all over, and her eyes went wide and wild.

“You do?” she said, her lips pale and quivering. “No, it can’t be true! A way to keep our Atma under control? Impossible! The Church archives made no mention of such a thing, nor did Angel. How can the Embryon make such a claim?”

“I can’t give you any details,” Serph said, meeting Jinana’s gaze. The look in her eyes was nearly too much to take. “But I can say this: none of the Embryon have turned on each other—not one, not once. Nor have we eaten any of our own. It very nearly happened once, but we were able to stop it. None of us have lost control of ourselves or our grip on our own humanity.”

“It can’t be.” Jinana’s voice was barely even a whisper, and she slumped forward, catching her hands on the edge of her desk. “But then . . . what happened to us back there? All that carnage and bloodshed, everyone going crazy—and all I could do was watch. And then something—someone came over me, and I couldn’t fight it. All that blood . . . and meat.” Her voice grew even quieter, and she shut her eyes tightly. “I don’t want to remember it. Don’t make me.”

“There’s a way to pull you back from the edge before you go over,” Serph said. Jinana looked back up at him. “You need to believe me. I know you want proof, but I can’t show you just yet. But that time will come, and you need to trust me until then. It’s like I told you before we came in here. I really do mean this. I want as many people as possible to be able to ascend to Nirvana, no matter what tribe they belong to—the Embryon, the Maribel, anyone that will ally with us. If what I saw of you at the Temple was the real you, Jinana, then please, join me.”

Jinana hesitated, her tension palpable; she dropped her gaze to the floor and gripped the edge of her desk so hard her fingertips turned white. For a long time she stood motionless. Then she snapped out of her reverie, straightened, and strode toward the door.

“Jinana.”

“Come with me,” the Maribel leader said without turning around. “I’ll give you my answer outside, for all to hear. Our meeting is adjourned, Serph of the Embryon.”

“There’s one thing I want to ask you,” Jinana said, her stiff voice echoing faintly in the hallway, empty save for the two of them. “This method you have of controlling Atma—can it also bring back someone who’s already lost their grip on their humanity?”

“Unfortunately, no, it can’t. At least not in most cases,” Serph replied, thinking back to how close he and the others had come to crossing that line themselves. “Sometimes, if you can get to the person right after they’ve started to go berserk, there’s still a chance, but if the Atma has been in control for any real amount of time, there’s nothing to be done.”

“I see.” Jinana let out a faint sigh.

“Incidentally, where is the Maribel’s bishop? I haven’t seen him.”

“He’s dead.”

The response was so curt that Serph didn’t know what to say.

“The conflict between his bishop conditioning and his berserk Atma caused his implants to malfunction. When we found him, he was somewhere halfway between Atma and human, holding a gun in his mouth. He blew his own head off, taking out his brain and the implants at the same time.” After a moment, Jinana added, “He went out on his own terms. The consummate bishop.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but Serph guessed it was masking the pain she felt underneath.

Serph hesitated to ask his next question, but decided to press on anyway. “So then what we ran into outside the base—”

“—are members of the Maribel, yes,” Jinana finished for him.

She didn’t say “were,” Serph thought.

“Some of them lost their minds completely when they first went berserk. Others were able to hold on, but couldn’t deal with their hunger, and so chose to banish themselves before they wound up tearing out their own comrades’ throats. They are my people, and my responsibility.”

She was quiet for a while, then sighed before going on. “I thought that there might be some way to save them. Or at least give their deaths some meaning.”

Serph could feel Jinana’s regret. She seemed to realize that she’d revealed a vulnerable side; her face hardened as she walked onward.

They made it back to the main entrance, and Serph could hear sounds of commotion outside the doors. Jinana said nothing as she brought her hand up to the control panel, and then the doors unlatched with a thud before swinging open to either side. Outside, the restless tribe members had split into several groups, but they turned as one to look towards the doors as they opened.

As Jinana’s people expressed their relief that she was all right, Argilla forced her way through the crowd and practically leapt up to Serph. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re hurt. But it’s good you came back as soon as you did,” she added in an undertone. “Keeping Heat in line is kind of a tall order. Another five minutes and I think he might’ve exploded.”

“What’s going on? Oh, hey, you’re all right,” Heat said, stepping up behind her. He looked Serph over thoroughly, then snorted. “I was just biding my time for when things finally got interesting in there. Too bad.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Serph chuckled. He was glad to see his friend’s face again. And it was looking like they’d be able to avoid a fight with the Maribel. If they could work together with one tribe, maybe they’d be able to negotiate with the others, too.

“I think this is going well,” Serph said. “Jinana hasn’t given me a solid answer yet, but I’ve got a good feeling about it. She said she’d make her announcement in front of the others.”

“Well, I hope it’s the response you’re looking for,” Argilla said, standing on her tiptoes to get a look at Jinana, who was surrounded by her men. Two of Jinana’s guards held out their hands and boosted her up on top of one of the vehicles in front of the guard wall. The people who had been milling about all gathered around her. Even the armed guards that had been assigned to watch Argilla and Heat stopped training their guns on them and turned their attention to what was going on.

“All right, Maribel, listen up!” Jinana called out, her resounding voice silencing the fifty or so soldiers. “The Embryon have brought us a proposition: they want us to cease hostilities, and to form an alliance to work together against the other tribes.”

A quiet murmur ran through the crowd, growing steadily louder. Many people turned to look at Serph and his companions, who had been gathered near the back. Most of their faces were stark with disbelief, and some looked like they were bracing for a surprise attack even now. Serph and his companions knew better than to speak out yet.

Heat began to bare his teeth. “Calm down, Heat,” Serph murmured, putting a hand on his upper arm. “It’s all right. They’re just surprised at the announcement.”

“Nobody in the Junkyard has ever stopped to consider anything like this,” Argilla pointed out. “It’s almost ridiculous to even suggest. I mean, she heard us out, sure, but I’m still getting nervous.”

Jinana waited for the buzz amidst the crowd to subside before she continued. “I personally think that we should take them up on this offer of alliance. But on one condition.” She held up a hand to urge her people to stay quiet.

Serph looked up, returning her gaze as she looked at him over the assembled crowd, and stepped forward. “What is this condition, Jinana of the Maribel?”

“Serph of the Embryon,” she declared, emphasizing his name and title, “my condition is this: we will each choose one person from among our troops to represent our tribe, and those two people will do battle.”

Argilla sprang forward. “Hey, hold up! We didn’t come here looking for a fight!”

“Which side wins this battle will determine whether we move forward with the alliance or not,” Jinana said, ignoring Argilla’s outburst. “The Maribel will not kneel before an inferior tribe. We will only work with a tribe that is our equal, if not our better. If the Embryon cannot demonstrate their worth as a tribe, then you will surrender to me on the spot, Serph of the Embryon.”

Jinana’s green eyes met Serph’s silver ones. “And if your champion loses, then, after you have given us the means you spoke of to keep our Atma under control, you will either swear loyalty to me, or you may take your own life while you are still leader of the Embryon. If you would prefer to die in battle, I have more than enough soldiers to grant you that wish. I offer you the choice, out of respect. Are we agreed?”

Argilla looked like she was about to make another protest, but Serph held her back. “Very well, Jinana of the Maribel,” he replied, his voice firm. “I agree to your terms. I take it we are free to choose our champion?”

“Naturally. And we will do the same. If you would prefer to call someone in from your headquarters, I am willing to wait until they arrive.”

“You won’t need to,” said Heat, stepping up beside Serph. A smile tugged at his lips, and he seemed to grow larger. His sharp fangs extended and he cracked his knuckles, like a war machine rumbling to life. “And here I thought I was gonna have to go home without having any fun. I could use a good workout. Plus I’m starving.”

“Heat, I’ll let you fight, but I don’t want you to kill anyone,” Serph whispered to him, knowing he couldn’t make Heat back down completely. “If you kill your opponent, it’s just going to create ill will.”

“Don’t be naïve,” Heat snorted, flashing Serph a sidelong glance. “My opponent’s sure going to try to kill me. And you know that if I lose, you’re as good as dead. Because if I do, and I think for one second that you’re going to submit to the Maribel . . . I’ll kill you myself.”

“I figured you’d say that,” Serph said, somehow smiling despite the circumstances. “But even so, do not kill your opponent. Jinana takes the deaths of her people hard. I don’t want to hurt her by making her lose another. It won’t help our cause.”

“You’re a fool,” Heat spat, and then he stepped further forward, raising his voice. “I am Heat of the Embryon. Which one of you wants to be my dinner?”

The members of the Maribel started to bristle. Heat’s brazen taunt had clearly provoked some of them, while others shrank back, intimidated. They turned to one another, murmuring amongst themselves; Jinana remained quiet, arms crossed, allowing her subordinates to decide who would face the Embryon challenger.

After a while, the crowd parted, and a lanky man stepped forward. He was much scrawnier than Heat, but he moved with a nimble and graceful fluidity, his frame strong and sinuous. He had long, purple hair that came down to his shoulders, and he wore his tribal color markings around his right eye. On his upper body, instead of the usual combat suit worn by his tribe, he wore a lightweight, knife-proof mesh.

Hand-to-hand combat was clearly his forte. He brandished a large combat knife in one hand, playing with it as if it were a harmless toy. His eyes were as narrow as knife slits themselves, and he had a small nose and thin lips that flashed a wicked little smile. “My name is Bat,” he said in a sneering voice that grated on the ears. “My Atma is Camazotz. I’m going to carve you into pieces.”

“I don’t need to know the name of my food,” Heat retorted, thrusting out his right arm, the Atma brand on his forearm pulsating with a red light. “Save the bullshit posturing and let’s do this. Unless you’re too afraid?”

The two of them grinned widely at each other. Bat spun his knife around once more before sheathing it at his lower back. A moment later he drew another pair of knives, one in each hand, and shrieked as he spread his arms wide and rushed at Heat.

“What’s with his voice?” Argilla asked, screwing up her face and covering her ears. Serph did the same; the warrior’s shriek created a sensation like needles stabbing through his eardrums. It was clearly a form of high-frequency sonic attack.

As Bat sprinted forward, he began to transform before the onlookers’ eyes. His entire body turned black and grew even thinner as his torso shrank. His legs twisted up and seemed to shrink as they pulled in toward his abdomen, which was now covered in smooth, dark skin.

Unlike his legs, his arms spread apart and grew bigger, the knives in each hand transforming into sharp claws. His wicked smile widened, never leaving his face even as his mouth shifted into a fanged snout. His ears grew to enormous size, flapping back and forth on either side of his head, which had sunk down onto his chest as his shoulders broadened and hunched. His joints popped as they distorted, and with a whoomf, membranous, cape-like wings caught the air.

His feet left the ground, and he flapped up a whirlwind of sand as he rose into the skies above the Junkyard as an enormous, black-winged creature. “Prepare to be devoured, you wretch!” shrieked Bat, now Camazotz, his voice ear-piercing as he bared his needlelike fangs. “I will tear you apart and devour every last scrap of you, down to the marrow!”

Heat, meanwhile, had not sat idly by. His smile grew even more confident as he clenched his outstretched hand into a fist, softly murmuring the trigger words—om mani padme hum. In an instant, his entire body was enveloped in blue light. He swung his arm, and the light vanished as if he’d cast it off. In his place stood Agni, a massive crimson form with two heads and four sturdy limbs, stomping at the ground. His burly chest and shoulders were clad in vibrant yellow armor, and the hideous heads each bore an enormous, semicircular mouth.

The sight of this monstrous, fiery presence drew cries of shock from the Maribel troops. Even Serph had never had a chance to study Heat’s Atma close-up like this before; the sight was indeed terrifying. Sera had said that Agni was a god of fire, and now Heat truly was the avatar of flames.

Camazotz let out a long shriek and swooped in to attack, and Agni thrust out one of his arms to counter. There was a quick flash, and Camazotz was forcibly driven back. A set of four sharp claws sprang forth from Agni’s armored fist. He brandished them menacingly and let out a roar, striking out as Camazotz tried to back away. Camazotz managed to evade him, then beat his wings once, rising up into the air.

“Get back down here!” Agni bellowed as he swung his claws, but all he got in response was a sneering squeal and a fierce blast of wind. Agni dug his feet in and covered both heads with one arm, warding off some unseen force that came battering down from above. At the last possible moment, he jumped back, narrowly avoiding a direct hit—the stones where he’d been standing were blasted up into the air, where they burst apart into tiny shards of gravel.

Some type of gravity attack? Serph wondered. No, it had to be a sort of focused, high-energy shockwave. At first glance, it looked similar to Argilla’s power, but that wasn’t accompanied by the high-pitched sound that split the air now. Argilla was covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut to fend off the pain.

Members of both the Maribel and Embryon watched awestruck as Agni let out a bellowing cry and his body erupted in fire. The blazing flames danced and flickered, taking on an arrow-like shape as they roared through the air towards Camazotz. Camazotz whirled swiftly to fend off the attack, whipping up a column of heat and then shrieking as he was burned. The high-powered shockwave that came with his cry missed its target, blasting a large hole in the fortress wall; Maribel soldiers scattered to avoid the falling rubble.

Agni rushed to attack Camazotz as he descended, but the bat-avatar would not be taken so easily. Once more he fluttered his bladed wings, attempting to regain altitude as he fired off another series of sonic shockwaves. Agni couldn’t hope to avoid them all, and several of them scored direct hits on his torso, blasting through his armor and sending blood and bits of flesh flying. The burly beast began to stagger, and Argilla let out a clipped scream.

Camazotz swept in to intercept some of the bloody chunks of meat in midair, making a show of catching them in his mouth. Blood dripped down onto the ground from his fanged snout, and he let out an ear-piercing shriek of glee. “Your meat is rotten, Embryon! How could I sate myself with such filth?”

Agni let out a ferocious howl. Half-chewed flesh made wet, slopping sounds as it splattered to the earth, and Camazotz let out another mocking squeal as he swooped in, slashing with the sharp claws on the ends of his wings. Just before they could connect, however, a blow from a massive red fist knocked him from the sky.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, punk,” Agni snarled, his booming voice seeming to shake the ground itself. He opened his massive mouths wide and sank his razor-sharp fangs into the base of one of Camazotz’s wings.

Camazotz writhed in a desperate attempt to escape. He let out another shriek—not another shockwave, this time, but a scream of pain. Agni snarled and shook his heads, whipping Camazotz back and forth. The sound of rending flesh filled the air, and crimson droplets scattered. Blood pooled on the ground beneath the two combatants. Camazotz flapped his wings two or three more times and finally pulled free, his injured limb drooping. His jaws parted to launch another volley of shockwaves—at such close range, the attack staggered Agni, surrounding him with a scarlet mist. And yet, in spite of the deep gouges on his chest and shoulder, one of Agni’s two heads turned to flash Serph a satisfied grin.

One of the fire-Atma’s hands thrust out, the four claws blazing red with heat as they rammed into Camazotz’s abdomen, sending out a gout of blood.

More blood bubbled out of Camazotz’s mouth, silencing his cries. His body began to spasm and convulse, the shuddering growing steadily more intense until a faint blue light enveloped him and his transformation came undone. Bat, now back in human form, collapsed to the earth, his body limned with red.

The Maribel warrior curled into a fetal position, coughing up ropes of ruddy spittle. He struggled unsteadily to lift his head as the massive red form of Agni approached. The gouge in Agni’s shoulder had already healed, and Camazotz’s blood was all but invisible against that red skin. Bat looked around frantically, searching for some means of escaping his imminent demise. A look of abject terror flickered in his eyes.

Serph dashed into the fray. He couldn’t let this happen.

“Jinana!” Bat squeaked out. Agni stomped nearer, reaching down and picking up his enemy—now reduced to terrified prey—and bringing the writhing man’s head up to his jaws. Just as those rows of teeth were about to bite down on Bat’s skull, Serph interceded, grabbing hold of Agni’s arm.

“Stop it! The duel is finished. Let him go, Heat.”

“Why do you stop me?” Agni demanded, his free head snapping around to face Serph. “He lost, and losers are eaten by the victors. That’s the new rule. If I lost, the same would happen to me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Serph replied. Agni’s fury showed; an oppressive heat washed across them, accompanied by the thick stench of scalded blood. The fire-creature showed no sign of pulling his writhing foe’s head free of his maw. Serph felt his stomach churn in response to all the blood; he put more force into his voice and his grip on Agni’s arm. “Fight the urge! Remember why we came here!”

“I remember!” Agni roared. His other huge mouth tightened around Bat’s skull. There was the sound of bone crunching, and then bright, red blood started to spill from between his lips.

Argilla gasped. Even Jinana, who had been standing close by, waiting to see how things would turn out, unfolded her arms and took a step forward, the shock plain on her face.

“That’s enough!” Serph snarled through gritted teeth. His eyes were clouded with pain, and his legs wobbled underneath him as he fought to keep his balance. “You wanted blood? You’ve had your fill. That’s an order, Heat! Change back and let him go.”

Blood began to run down along Serph’s arm. His own blood. Before Agni could sink his teeth into Bat’s skull, Serph had forced his own arm between those tightening jaws.

Agni’s huge fangs had sunk into the flesh of his arm, piercing all the way to the bone. There hadn’t been time for him to transform, to protect himself with his Atma’s armored carapace. The blood reached his shoulder now, a line of red running down from between Agni’s teeth. With just a little more pressure from his jaws, Agni could easily bite Serph’s arm clean off—and the head that it was protecting would come soon after.

Time seemed to stand still. The only sound was that of Bat’s frantic breathing.

At last Agni shifted, opening his mouth bit by bit, sliding his fangs free from Serph’s arm before he hurled Bat to the floor like a piece of discarded trash. With a shimmer of blue light, the monstrous crimson form disappeared, replaced with that of a red-haired man with a sullen expression on his face.

“Fine,” he said, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his clenched fist, then spitting on the ground. “You’re the leader, Serph. I don’t have to like your orders, just follow them.”

Serph meant to reply with a wry smile, but he found himself grimacing and gasping in pain. He dropped to one knee. More blood dripped from his savaged arm. The limb was mangled from the right elbow forward, looking like it had been jammed into some sort of bladed vice.

Argilla hurried up to him, and she reached out to touch the injured arm. “That was reckless of you, sir.” She glared up at Heat. “And you—your leader reminded you over and over not to kill your opponent. It was a direct order!”

Heat merely scowled and looked away.

“It’s all right, Argilla. It’s not as bad as it looks.” This time Serph managed a smile, and he took Argilla’s arm to help him get to his feet. He was faintly aware of the Atma brand on his cheek, glowing softly in response to the scent of blood. “Heat went easy on me. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d taken the whole arm, so don’t be too upset at—”

He stopped in mid-sentence, though he didn’t know if that was due to the pain of his injury, or the sensation of his stimulated Atma. Without a conscious thought he shoved Argilla out of the way and spun around.

The knife coming his way missed its mark, merely grazing his side instead of striking him in the heart. The brand on his cheek burned, and he heard himself scream with a voice that was not his own.

Instinctively Varuna-Serph expelled a gust of frigid air and ice at Bat, who was coming at him with another knife in hand. Bat staggered back with a shout and dropped the now-frozen knife, which shattered like glass when it hit the ground.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Heat snarled as he stepped forward. The Atma mark on his forearm was already beginning to burn red again. Argilla moved to shield Serph, but Jinana was there first, her movements swift and silent.

She stood in front of Bat in silent fury. He was groaning and clutching his hand; the color had gone out of it. It took him a moment to realize that someone was standing in front of him. When he did, he looked up. Then Jinana delivered a loud blow right across his face.

Everyone fell silent, Embryon and Maribel alike.

“Why, Jinana?” Bat said, reeling as he brought a hand to his cheek in disbelief. “If we kill the leader of the Embryon now, the Maribel will have control of three territories!”

“Know your place.” Jinana’s voice was low but it seethed with suppressed rage. “I am the leader of the Maribel. And you dare defy me, Bat? You lost. It’s done. Accept it. You are to take no further action against the Embryon or their leader.”

Serph had dropped to his knees again. Argilla was seeing to his injuries. “Jinana,” she said, her face bright with hope, “does that mean that the Maribel—”

Jinana nodded, then turned to face the crowd. She stood up tall and straight. “All right, everyone, listen up!” she called out. “The duel is finished. As per our agreement, the Maribel will enter into an alliance with the Embryon.”

Serph looked up in surprise. After a brief pause, Jinana went on, her voice ringing loud and clear. “From now on, our two tribes will fight as one against the others. No one from our tribes shall seek quarrel with the members or the leader of the other without due cause, and bloodshed is strictly forbidden. This is my decree, as leader of the Maribel. If anyone objects to this, let them step forward now.”

No one spoke. No one moved. Bat had retreated to the edge of the gathering, head hung in shame, his pale cheek twitching. Jinana took a tentative breath, and then finally let her expression relax, the tension leaving her body as she extended a hand to Serph.

“Serph, it is my own failure as leader that one of my men has slighted you. I’ll call a team of medics for you at once to see to your wounds.”

“There’s no need. Things will heal on their own if I just activate my Atma.”

“Consider it a matter of decorum. Please, allow us to help.” And then she smiled. It was the first time Serph had seen her with such positive emotion on her face.

“I never thought things would turn out like this,” Jinana added more quietly. “It’s quite a surprise. And it’s been quite the experience. ‘Trust,’ was it? What a nice little word. I think I like it.”

Serph rose to his feet, still holding her hand. Even he could hardly believe he’d gotten the resolution he’d been hoping for. Here he was, shaking hands with a woman who had been his enemy just moments before. Her hand was warm, and Serph thought that the smile she wore now suited her far better than the face she put forth as leader.

“Jinana, get away from him!” Bat cried out from behind them, his expression one of utter desperation. The power of his Atma had caused the bleeding from his abdomen to stop, but his arm still hung limp, having been nearly bitten off at the shoulder. The color of his bloodied face was a ghastly contrast to Jinana’s. “This is all a trick! They’re just waiting for us to let our guard down, and then they’ll stab us in the back. Don’t let all this talk of ‘trust’ cloud your judgment, Jinana. Think about what I’ve done for you!”

“Silence, Bat!” Jinana didn’t so much as look at him. “The medics will see to you, too. With your injuries it will take you some time to recover, even with the help of your Atma. Until then, go easy and recuperate. Once you’ve had the chance to calm down, you might understand my decision.”

Bat looked around, a mad expression on his bloodstained face. “Don’t be fooled by them! Will you sell out the Maribel like this? Sooner or later, these people will devour you all, like the red one tried to do to me! You’ll see!” He pointed at Heat, who merely stood impassively in the face of all the wild screaming.

“This way, Serph of the Embryon,” said one of the Maribel as he came forth and pulled Serph away from Jinana. He bore crimson markings, but his tribe uniform was a simple one, and he carried no weapon. “Come inside. This should be relatively simple, just sterilizing and bandaging the wounds. You’ll probably need stitches, but we’ll do the best we can.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.”

“Thank you?” The words had come to Serph unbidden, and Jinana, standing beside him, raised an eyebrow upon hearing them. “What does that mean? Is it something like your ‘trust’?”

“They’re words of . . . gratitude that you say when someone does something for you. I think.” Now that Serph thought of it, they were words that Sera used a lot. When Cielo prepared her clothes, when people said kind words to her, after meals . . . and the phrase had just spread to Serph and the other members of his tribe from there.

Jinana smiled brightly. “Thank you. It has a nice ring to it. I’ll have to remember it, along with ‘trust.’”

“Jinana!”

“I told you to be silent, Bat,” Jinana snapped. She didn’t even turn to acknowledge him. Bat glared at Serph from behind as he was ushered into the base along with Argilla and Heat.

Just before the door closed behind them, Serph snuck a look back. Bat was being tended to by a group of medics, but there was a fire in his eyes, smoldering with unbridled hate. Fresh blood dripped down from his mouth where he’d bitten into his own lip. His entire body shook with rage, a form of hatred unlike anything Serph had ever seen before, radiating malice as if it were a tangible thing.

“Here you go,” Serph said, setting the sealed pouch atop the table and sliding it over to Jinana. “Each of these packs contains twenty capsules. You’ll have to forgive me, for the time being, if I don’t tell you what’s in them, but I assure you it isn’t poison. If you want proof, then by all means, pick whichever of the capsules you like and I’ll take it right here.”

It had been three days since their negotiations in Manipura and, as they’d agreed upon then, Jinana had come with a small contingent of her own to visit the Embryon in Muladhara. Serph had come to meet them at the border personally, his patrols having been called back just beforehand on the off-chance that their presence might lead to a fight. Jinana showed similar caution, leaving the men she’d brought with her inside her own territory.

Gale and Heat had wanted to be with him for this meeting, but Serph had refused, insisting on speaking with Jinana alone. After all that he’d gone through to earn her trust, he was unwilling to risk wrecking things by creating some kind of double-standard.

Hushed voices murmured back and forth just outside the door, probably members of the Embryon listening in to see how things were going. Their interest was understandable. It was unheard of for anyone but the top brass to set foot in the Embryon’s main briefing room, to say nothing of the leader of another tribe. The whole of Muladhara was talking about it.

“There’s no need for that. I trust you, Serph of the Embryon,” Jinana said as she picked up the pouch. She opened up the flap and raised her eyebrows as she took a look at the colored capsules within. “So there are twenty here. One of these per individual will suffice?”

“Sometimes, but not always. When taken as a preventative measure, one or two should do the trick, but when someone’s already out of control, it’s hard to say for sure. Around how many members do the Maribel currently have?”

Jinana didn’t respond right away. “Fifty-two,” she said after a moment, overcoming her long-held reluctance to reveal information about her forces to someone who only days before had been her enemy.

“Fifty-two.” The number took Serph by surprise. The Embryon numbered around one hundred fifty members, nearly three times as large.

“That doesn’t include those outside our base,” Jinana said. “The ones who have . . . given in to their Atma. Have they lost their minds completely? Is there really nothing to be done for them—no way to make them human again?”

“I’m sorry.” Sera had already told Serph as much. When asked, she’d hung her head for a while, and then explained that nothing could restore the humanity to those who had been completely taken over by their Atma, no matter how much of her blood they took. “I wish there were something we could do, but right now, it just isn’t possible.” As he broke the bad news, Serph recalled the dejected look on Sera’s face.

“I see,” Jinana said, and Serph looked away, swallowing back his regret at crushing her hopes.

“Unfortunately,” he said, “we don’t have the means to produce these capsules in large quantities. We can only give you enough to keep your present members in check. Given your current fifty-two members, figuring three capsules per member with some extra just to be safe, does two hundred sound all right to you?”

“That will be fine. You have my gratit—no, thank you, Serph.” Jinana smiled as she amended her words at the last moment. “That feels better. ‘Thank you.’ Even the feeling of saying it aloud is . . . extraordinary. Am I using it correctly?”

Serph smiled back. “Yes, I think so.” He stood up from his seat. “We’ll go ahead and prepare the remaining capsules. You’re welcome to say for dinner, if you like. Normal food, of course.” Nowadays, the term “food” sometimes had unfortunate connotations.

“I would be happy to. Though I have to say, you Embryon are something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe it’s because their leader is just so strange,” Jinana said with a teasing grin, “but the whole time I’ve been here, I’ve felt strangely calm. I’m in the heart of what I’ve always considered enemy territory, and yet I’m even more at ease here than I am back at home with the Maribel—even given the state of your facility, here.”

“Sorry about that.” Serph gazed ruefully at their ramshackle surroundings. “This is the best the Embryon can do, I’m afraid.” The tiny briefing room, with its rough, utilitarian chairs and benches crammed around the map table, must have felt like little more than a storage closet to someone who was used to spacious personal quarters and a big, comfy chair.

Jinana smiled at him apologetically. “Still, the longer I spend here, the more I can feel the tension leaving my body. It’s warm and comfortable down here, too. Relaxing. I think I can understand why you people don’t lose control. You’ve got your capsules to take, and the simple feeling of being in this place helps keep you from becoming so high-strung.”

Serph guessed that Jinana’s feeling of calm probably came from being near Sera. Whereas Serph and the others had become used to it now that they’d been around her for a while, someone coming in from the outside, like Jinana, would no doubt pick up on it more acutely.

Serph went to open the door, and a small-statured man who’d been pressed up against it fell through the opening, sprawling against him with a cry of surprise.

“Cielo, what are you doing here?”

Cielo looked up at him with a nervous chuckle and a sheepish grin. Behind him, Serph saw the other three members of his senior staff, all looking ashamed—with the exception of Gale.

“What are all of you doing here? I told you I was to speak with Jinana alone.”

“Yeah, and that’s so totally unfair!” Cielo said, pushing back off of Serph’s chest and stamping a foot once he was standing upright again. “I wanted to get a look at the leader of the Maribel. I mean, she’s going to be our ally now, right? Plus she’s a lady! How cool is that? Howdy, ma’am. Name’s Cielo. I’m the boss’s star pupil. Nice to meet you.”

“Cielo, you’re only embarrassing yourself,” Argilla said as she hurried to pull him away. “I’m sorry, Serph. I’m sure you heard the crowd hanging around out here earlier. I came down here to shoo them off, and who should I see amongst them but Cielo and these two, trying to listen in. And after everyone else scattered I got all tangled up pushing and shoving with these guys and couldn’t move.”

“You were tangled up with us because you were listening in, too,” muttered Heat from beside her.

Argilla’s face went red. “Okay, maybe I was curious, but—anyway, what were you doing here, Heat? You were told to stay away until they were done talking too.”

“I go where I want. Nobody warns me away from anywhere.”

“When I arrived, only these three were here,” Gale stated calmly. “The other members ran off when they realized I was coming. Which I only did in order to ensure that your orders were being followed.”

Serph sighed. He wasn’t sure whether to be upset or pleased. Sure, they had gone against his orders, but he knew they’d only done it because they were worried about him, so he couldn’t be too mad at them for that. The real issue was how Jinana felt about it. He turned around to apologize for the disruption, and to let her know he would get rid of them, but he was shocked to find her laughing uncontrollably.

In the midst of struggling against Argilla’s attempts to hold him back, Cielo’s face went dumbstruck. Argilla and Heat widened their eyes in surprise as well, and even Gale’s mask of objective neutrality slipped the slightest bit. Jinana’s laughter grew even louder, and she doubled over in her chair, as if the amusement was too much for her to bear.

“Oh, boy,” she finally managed to get out through all her chuckling. “I knew your leader was an odd duck, but I didn’t expect his entire staff would be, too. You’re an amusing bunch, Embryon. I like you. I’ll definitely take you up on that offer of dinner now, Serph, and I hope I can sit near these folks. There’s a lot I’d like to talk about. It seems like the fun is just getting started.”

Two hours later, as per schedule, Serph led Jinana back to the border, where she reunited with the members of the Maribel who were waiting for her. She carried with her a package of capsules containing Sera’s blood. Her good mood clearly surprised her underlings.

“We shall discuss tactical details later on, Serph of the Embryon.” Now that she was at the head of her troops again, her face once again wore the resolute expression with which she projected her aura of leadership. “I think that we shall fight well together. The Maribel have gained a valuable ally. Please tell your people I said as much. Especially the pink-haired one, Argilla, and the wily little blue fellow.” She smiled, reminiscing. “Tell Argilla that I especially enjoyed getting to talk to her, and that I hope to see her again soon. I never thought I could talk so much about anything other than battle. She’s an intriguing one. I wish I had someone like her on my own staff.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her,” Serph assured her. “And take care to use those capsules only when necessary. We won’t be able to replace them right away if you run out. They supply is limited—we’re in the same boat, ourselves. Someday, I’ll be able to tell you more, but until then, please try to make do with what you have.”

“Understood,” Jinana said with a nod, the smile vanishing from her face. She gave the pack of capsules a little pat. “We’ll be in touch, Embryon. Until we meet again.”

Jinana nodded to her escort and they headed out. Serph watched and waited until the Maribel had all crossed the border back into their own territory before heading back to the Muladhara base.

He found Argilla alone in the dining area next to the briefing room, gathering up the utensils.

“Argilla? Are you cleaning up by yourself?”

“Welcome back, Serph,” she said, looking up, her cheeks still a bit flush. “Did Jinana make it back all right? She’s an incredible individual. I’m glad we didn’t wind up having to fight her. You know, I think this might have been the first time I ever had such a thorough conversation with a single person. I’ve never even had another woman to talk to on equal footing before. I didn’t think it could be so much fun.”

“Jinana said something very similar about you,” Serph said, a slight smile on his face. During dinner, it had felt like Jinana and Argilla had done the lion’s share of the talking. Things had started out with an air of tension, the talk slow and stilted, but somewhere along the way Jinana and Argilla had begun to really hit it off.

Cielo had tried to jump in on the conversation occasionally, but he’d barely been able to get a word in edgewise. Heat, typically, had kept to himself, eating in silence, and when Serph and Gale had finished their meals, they’d gone off to prepare the remainder of the capsules, leaving the women to carry on the conversation. If Jinana hadn’t had a specific time she’d needed to return to her escort troops, they’d probably still be talking even now.

“Did she really? I hope I get to see her again. Off the battlefield, if possible. I’d love to get to chat with her without having to worry about the time.” Argilla sighed, then shook herself out of her little reverie. “I didn’t say a word about Sera, I swear. I was very careful about that.”

“I trust you. Jinana said she wants to see you again, too,” Serph replied, and then he left the dining hall, heading for Sera’s room.

To be on the safe side, Sera had been confined to her sleeping quarters, not allowed out while Jinana was at the base. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking bored, but when she saw Serph, her eyes lit up.

“Has everything been taken care of, Serph? Did you get to have your talk with Jinana?”

“She made it back safely,” Serph said, pulling up a chair and sitting down to face Sera. “I’m sorry that you had to give so much blood. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain or discomfort?”

“I’m fine,” Sera said. “I’ve had plenty of rest, and the medical staff has done a good job looking after me.” Her face was still somewhat pale, but she smiled all the same.

Serph patted her knee reassuringly. “Things with Jinana and the Maribel seem to be going well. We’re looking at launching a joint strike against the Solids in Anahata. I still need to work with Gale on the details—but if we work together, we should be able to assemble a force that can beat the Solids.”

“So, there’s going to be more fighting.” A look of sadness overcame Sera’s face. “You can’t try talking to the Solids like you did with the Maribel?”

“It isn’t realistic. The Solids are all about deceptive tactics—sneak attacks, that sort of thing. We’re certain we wouldn’t be able to trust them. Also, their leader, Mick the Slug, has a pretty strong self-preservation instinct, to the point that he doesn’t show himself on the battlefield. He probably wouldn’t even agree to meet with us if we came to negotiate. But maybe, if the Embryon and Maribel can fight together and reduce his forces enough, that might change.”

“You couldn’t just tell them about my blood?”

“No. We haven’t even told Jinana yet, and only my own senior staff and I know about your blood’s ability to suppress Atma. If the Solids or one of the other tribes were to learn about that, there’s a very good chance that they’d try to take you by force in order to get their hands on that power. Jinana is sort of a special case in all this. I wouldn’t get your hopes up as as far as the other tribe leaders are concerned.”

“I see.” Sera lowered her eyes.

A jarringly cheerful voice broke the ensuing silence. “Oh, hey buddy! I didn’t know you were here. I came to hang out with Sera.” It was Cielo, carrying a tray piled with more than enough food for two people. He scampered through the door and skittered to a stop beside them.

“Come on, Sera, let’s eat,” he said. “I’m still pretty hungry, so I figured I could eat again with you.”

“You’re going to eat again? Didn’t you just have dinner?” Serph said, eyeing the mountain of food in disbelief.

Cielo curled his lips. “Yeah, but the whole time, Jinana and Argilla were talking and they wouldn’t even let me get a word in. And then when I tried to complain about it to Argilla afterwards she was all, ‘A guy like you wouldn’t understand. Leave the grownup talk to us, you little pipsqueak.’ I told her to can it with the trash talk. Besides, I’m not that little.”

Serph suppressed a smile as he listened to Cielo’s tough talk. He thought back to when he’d seen Jinana off—when she’d referred to the young soldier as “the wily little blue fellow.” It took effort to keep a straight face.

“So Jinana and Argilla have become friends? Oh, that’s wonderful,” Sera said happily.

“Friends?” Serph turned to Sera in confusion at this other new word.

“Friends, you know—someone that you enjoy talking to, who makes you smile, and who you miss when they’re not around. That’s a friend.”

“Is it something different from an ally or a fellow tribe member?” Serph asked.

“They’re similar, but a friend is someone you enjoy being with regardless of affiliation, or of any tactical advantage or mutual benefit they bring you. Jinana and Argilla seemed to be having fun, right?”

“So then, like, you and me—we’re friends?” Cielo set the tray down on the table and rested his elbows on the bed, looking up at Sera.

She was visibly taken aback. “Me . . . me and you?”

“Well, yeah. I enjoy being with you. We have fun talking, and I like it when I can make you smile.” Cielo counted off on his fingers and tilted his head. “I mean, there are members of the Embryon I’m like that with, too. But like, you can be friends and allies at the same time, right?” He looked up expectantly at Serph.

Serph hesitated a moment, but then looked Sera in the eye and nodded. “I’m not sure I completely understand what ‘friends’ are, but I saw Jinana and Argilla today, and I think it’s a good thing for you to be able to enjoy someone’s company like that, Sera. I want you to be comfortable and relaxed while you’re here.”

“And Heat and Gale might be a little rough around the edges, and maybe they can even seem kinda scary at times, but they’ve got their good points, too,” Cielo was quick to add. “I think it would be great if we could all be your friends—I’m not using that word wrong or anything, am I?”

“No, not at all.” Sera had been moved to tears. “Thank you, Cielo. And you too, Serph.”

“Oh, hey, no, don’t cry.” Flustered, Cielo waved his hands, and then started to unload the food from the tray onto the table. “C’mon, Sera, dig in. I mean, you’re really cute, but you’re a tad too skinny. Gotta eat up and put some meat on those bones.”

Serph left the room, closing the door on the sound of happy voices. Cielo could take care of things from here.

He mouthed the word “friend” to himself again. As Jinana would have said, it had a nice ring to it. Was friendship really something that could go beyond boundaries? Beyond tribes? It had to be. Argilla and Jinana were proof enough of that. Serph had told Sera that Jinana and the Maribel were a special case, but perhaps, if they played their cards right, it might be possible to find some way to avoid fighting the other tribes after all. Heat would probably tell him to stop dreaming and dismiss such ideas out of hand, but nonetheless there was a bit of a spring in Serph’s step as he made his way back to his room.

Gale was waiting outside when he got there.

“Sir,” he said, “I have drawn up a tentative plan for our joint attack with the Maribel against the Solids. I have a hard copy for you here, and I have also forwarded the file to your private terminal. If anything is unclear, or if you feel anything can be improved, I can make revisions provided you get me your feedback by LT tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Serph said. He felt like he’d been yanked out of a dream and back into harsh reality. Nothing had really changed; they still needed to plan for war. They still had to go out there and kill each other—and perhaps do things far more horrific than that.

He took the hard copy packet and tucked it under his arm. “You should get some rest yourself, Gale. From what I can surmise from my conversations with Jinana, you’re the only bishop in the Junkyard that’s managed to attain a proper balance between bishop conditioning and Atma.”

Gale appeared unfazed by this information. Serph wondered at his self-control. The Atma inevitably brought out one’s belligerent instincts, along with a powerful inhuman hunger, but bishops were conditioned to cut out all emotion and desire to the point where they thought and behaved essentially like machines. The madness that resulted from that disparity could be fatal. Serph could only assume that the tumult that might otherwise have been raging inside Gale was being kept in check by Sera’s blood and her calming presence. He guessed that these factors had allowed the neural connections to Gale’s implants to reconfigure themselves, a self-adjustment that enabled his Atma and his bishop capabilities to coexist.

“I fear your responsibilities are only going to increase from here on out,” Serph added. “I’m counting on you.” He turned and headed into his room, but Gale remained standing by his door as if there were still something he wanted to say.

Serph paused, suspicious of the bishop’s motives. “Did you have something else to report? If this is about my breaking the transceiver, I think I heard enough about that the other day.”

“The woman poses a risk, sir,” Gale said without segue. It took Serph a few seconds to realize he was talking about Jinana, and once he did, he felt indignation well up inside him.

He tossed the hard copy of the report haphazardly onto his desk and then turned back to face Gale in the doorway. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded. “You think there’s a chance that Jinana might betray us? That in the midst of our coming battle together, she’ll seize the opportunity to turn on us? Is that it?”

“It is not.” Even in the face of Serph’s anger, Gale remained unperturbed. “I am wholly convinced that she will honor our arrangement. She would quite literally risk her own life to keep the alliance with the Embryon intact.”

“Then what makes her such a risk?”

“She cares too much about her people.”

For a few moments, Serph was baffled; then a fierce ire rose within him. He felt like slugging his icy, analytical advisor. What was so wrong with caring about one’s people? A good leader saw how important his people were, and didn’t squander his followers’ lives or let them suffer unduly. Serph said as much, at length, his tone firm with anger.

“You are in a biased position, sir,” Gale said flatly. “Though the rules have indeed changed since the appearance of our Atma, the core tenet that a tribe is eliminated at the death of its leader has not. This means that if Jinana were to die, the Maribel would fall apart, along with the alliance we have forged.”

“And what does that have to do with her caring about her people?”

“I have explained this to you before, sir.” For the first time Serph could recall, Gale looked him directly in the eye. Serph shut his mouth in surprise; the bishop usually kept his gaze down as he provided his monotone data stream. Serph was now seeing him in a somewhat different light.

“I can understand why you empathize with her. Like her, you have an inclination to put the well-being of your people above your own,” Gale continued. “Your actions have demonstrated this since before the incident with the black object, and since the emergence of our Atma, this inclination has become all the more pronounced. But this is a grave mistake. If Jinana dies, so do the Maribel. She is not taking that into account. Likewise, if you die, the Embryon die with you. The other members of the tribe should be employed as your shield, to ensure that you survive at any cost. That is the duty and purpose of such units.”

Serph growled back at him. “You want me to become like Mick the Slug—hiding safely within my base, using the members of my tribe as disposable tools to die in my stead?”

“It can be an effective strategy,” Gale said without pause. “Before now, the Embryon were too weak to fight without their leader alongside them on the front line. However, now that we count the Maribel troops among our ranks, your direct presence is no longer necessary. You should remain at headquarters, issuing commands from here while your senior lieutenants direct action on the battlefield. There need be no reduction in combat effectiveness. For example, our troops have been able to force the surrender of many of the surviving Vanguards without having to put you at risk on the front line, sir.”

“And is that what you’ve written up in your battle plan?” Serph asked, gesturing impatiently at the report he’d thrown on his desk.

“It is not,” Gale said, with just a moment’s hesitation. “A bishop’s responsibility is to assist with the leader’s line of thinking. Therefore, the battle plan I have drawn up is in line with a strategy that you would personally devise. However, I did feel compelled to say that this plan goes against my own recommendations. You are no longer in charge of a low-ranked tribe—the Embryon now stand in fourth place alongside the Maribel. As your chief tactician, I cannot endorse your risking death or injury by directly participating in battlefield engagements as you have in the past.”

“Then you would prefer to serve a man like Mick the Slug?” The anger had not left Serph’s voice. “Someone concerned only with his own survival, cowering behind sturdy walls? Someone content to watch as his people get killed, so long as it’s not his own neck on the line? Is that really the kind of man you want to serve under, Gale?”

It was a while before Gale responded. “I am a bishop, sir.” There was visible effort on his part as he searched for the right words. “A bishop serves his leader. Regardless of what sort of leader that may be, the responsibilities of the bishop’s position do not change. If the leader dies, the tribe is eliminated. My primary consideration is ensuring that the Embryon do not suffer such a fate. My own wishes do not figure into that.”

“Then think about it,” Serph insisted, stern and clipped. He stepped into his quarters. “Think about what it is you want to do. I’ll have my revisions to the battle plan back to you by tomorrow. Until then, think about whether you serve me, or whether you serve the Embryon.

“And if you decide that I’m not suited to ensuring the Embryon’s continued survival, then you can go look for someplace that has a leader who’s more fitting. But know that I will not be the sort of leader who hides behind a shield of his own people. I don’t ever want to become that sort of leader, and I won’t have you advise me to do so. If you don’t like that, you’re free to speak up at any time. If you want to leave, you’re free to leave.”

“You wish to expel me from the Embryon, then, sir?”

“No. I depend on you, and if possible, I’d like to be able to have you at my side advising me for a long time—for the foreseeable future. I just don’t want to make you work for someone you aren’t satisfied with. Just think it over, Gale. And . . . I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Gale offered no response.

“You’re one of my most important people, you know,” Serph added more quietly, stepping closer to the door. “I don’t want to upset you. I don’t want you to get hurt. I certainly don’t want you to head off and die in some anonymous ditch where we’ll never find you. At least understand that much.”

Gale hung his head but made no further motion. As Serph closed the door, he eyed the Atma brand on Gale’s shin, pulsing with pale, blue-green light.

There was silence outside the door for a while, and then, after a few moments, the sound of footsteps gradually fading into the distance. Serph steadied his breathing and went to sit down on his bed, looking over the battle plan.

It was a good plan. It really was the sort of thing Serph would have come up with, supplemented with many of Gale’s own excellent ideas. Serph lay back on his bed. Sheets of paper fell onto the floor, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to pick them back up. He was far too tired.

Gale was right, Serph thought with a sigh.

But then, Gale was pretty much always right, wasn’t he? His assessment of Jinana was probably spot-on. She did care too much for her people.

Nobody would have faulted her for counting the people who’d already lost their humanity, and had been exiled from her base, as dead and gone—they were beyond the ability to save. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to find a way to save them. The grief in her voice when she’d said so had resonated with Serph someplace deep inside, someplace over which he had no control.

His mind drifted to the Church’s most recent decree, made not long before his latest meeting with Jinana. No longer were the members of a defeated tribe to be absorbed by their conquerors; henceforth, a tribe that lost its leader was immediately dissolved, and the surviving members were left to the wilds, like the Newborns, with no one to help them, until they were either killed and devoured, or until they lost their humanity and became monsters. Either way, Serph thought, it was a far more miserable fate than before.

And now we eat people . . .

Thanks to Sera’s blood and the calming effect that her presence had, the Embryon had thus far been able to avoid the upheaval that had destroyed the Vanguards and weakened the Maribel. But there was no telling what might happen once they took military action against the Solids, or when they began using their Atma to do battle. As Heat had pointed out, devouring people made their Atma stronger, so if they avoided doing that, they’d be at a severe disadvantage when facing off against others with no such qualms. Even Sera’s blood had its limits. They couldn’t count on her to solve all of their problems forever.

“What is it,” Serph asked himself, “that I’m so afraid of?”

Somewhere inside, he found his answer: change.

He’d never had strong compunctions about killing and seeking victory before the incident with the unknown object and the arrival of the Atma. Death had always just been another thing that happened, to others as it would to him, with no special significance. But now it was something of profound concern to him. He didn’t want to lose any members of the Embryon, and if possible, he wanted to keep his allies in the Maribel safe, as well—not simply out of tactical considerations, but because that’s what his feelings made him want—feelings of compassion, of friendship.

But at the same time, he knew that in order to protect Sera and ascend to this place the Church called Nirvana, he would have to stand atop a pile of corpses, a mountain of blood and flesh. Blood and flesh—the very thought made his throat ache. A tingling sensation ran along his cheek. The Atma that had lain dormant now stirred in response to its bearer’s thoughts.

Everything used to be so clear and simple, without the slightest potential for change. You fought, you won, and you kept fighting in order to reach the paradise that the Church promised. Back then, even paradise hadn’t been anything more than a concept. Before receiving his Atma, Serph had never even wondered what sort of place Nirvana was; and in all likelihood, neither had anyone else.

And yet now he was filled with an active desire to go there, and to try to bring others with him. Before Atma, the very thought would have been impossible; now that Atma had changed the old rules, although he found that he did have this thought, the idea was outright laughable. A bearer of Atma either devoured other bearers of Atma, or failed to survive.

Gale would tell him he was being contradictory, and he’d be right. But Serph couldn’t change what he was feeling—even though a small part of him felt an ever-increasing trepidation at the new emotions he’d discovered inside himself. How far was this metamorphosis going to take them all?

He remembered the power he’d felt when he’d transformed in front of Jinana, and the intoxicating pleasure that came with it. Maybe that was the real source of his fear. Turning into something other than himself was both terrifying and fascinating. Yes, fascinating. Along with the fear came a compulsion that Serph could barely resist, something that sought to draw him in, to change him forever into something other than human. “Come here,” it seemed to whisper to him seductively. “Relish the blood of your foes, bask in power to your heart’s content, and lord yourself over the dead, the despairing, and the indignant.”

And Serph feared that he was too weak to deny that call forever. If he were to fight—and devour—his foes, then that voice might well win out. There was also the hard-to-deny temptation that it would be a sort of blissful release, to free himself from a yoke that was holding him back.

Before he won the fight against the Solids, Serph thought, he needed to win the fight against Varuna, against the bloodthirsty demon within him that was his Atma.

Angel had said that the Atma of the Junkyard’s inhabitants was the manifestation of their true nature. That may well have been true, but if one couldn’t control one’s own nature, surely one ran the risk of no longer being oneself. Maybe the Church considered that a success, but Serph wouldn’t just let himself be controlled. He wanted to remain himself, as he’d always known himself to be.

He’d heard someone else say something like that, too.

Heat didn’t have any misgivings about devouring others, but deep down, he was still Heat, and he hadn’t changed. If he had, then Serph wouldn’t have been able to stop him during the Maribel incident. Heat had accepted both his Atma and his hunger. Serph now realized that this was why Heat had questioned him in the hallway earlier, with his qualms about Serph’s continuing indecisiveness.

“I’m always going to be myself.” Serph envied the strength behind that declaration. Heat was hoping for Serph to show that same strength, to always be himself, come what may. And in order to live up to his comrade’s trust, the Embryon needed to make sure he didn’t become someone else. He needed to suppress his desires, to control the bloody temptations of his Atma, to be a pillar of self that—

Serph’s eyes snapped open.

At some point there, he had dozed off. Somewhere in the distance, he thought that he’d heard a faint meow, but his ears may have just been playing tricks on him.

He got up and walked to the window. It was 11:23 Shade Time—no, it was night. From the window, he could see the outer wall of the base and the troops assigned to patrol there. Above the emergency staircase across the way, he spotted a flicker of red light. Peering at it, he realized that Heat was there, leaning against the wall just out of the reach of the silvery rain; he was staring at one of his hands.

Heat’s hand had turned into one of the red hands of Agni. Its four claws slowly clenched and unclenched, bands of flame dancing in the spaces between them. The fire illuminated one side of his face. He looked exhausted, and didn’t seem aware that Serph was watching him.

Over and over, he created and extinguished those flames; then he stretched out his arms and legs and rested his head back against the wall, growing still as if asleep. His one arm, still that of Agni from elbow to fingertips, seemed to not share its owner’s complete lack of energy—the sharp claws continued to slowly move about as if in search of some nonexistent prey.

Serph shut the window and then sat down at his desk.

“I am not,” he murmured silently to himself, “going to stop being myself.”

No matter what happened. No matter how tough things got.

He started up his terminal, gathered up the scattered pages of the hard copy from the floor, and began to check over the report. He only had a few hours before he needed to get it back to Gale.