Amir immediately went to them; as soon as they touched the ground, they went to check on him. —Prince Amir, are you all right? Are you hurt? —They checked him from head to toe.
Vanrra was confused. —Prince Amir?
He said to his men. —It was nothing; I don't have a scratch. Do you have some water?
They gave him a small radio. —Prince, the general wants to speak with you. —Six large cranes slowly descended into the cave. Several soldiers approached Vanrra and drew their weapons. He showed them his hands.
Amir stepped away from the radio for a moment. —Don't touch him, that's an order!
—The general ordered us to arrest him.
—Then treat him very well; he's one of ours.
—Are you sure?
—I initiated him into the order; he has my royal invitation.
—Does the general know anything?
—He's listening right now; I don't think he'll mind. —The soldiers surrounded Vanrra; they led him toward the ropes. He didn't resist.
He said over the radio. —Amir, can you hear me?
—How's everything up there, Arian?
He sighed. —What did you do?
—It was an accident; I'd already beaten him as you told me to; not even you would have avoided falling into this crevice, over.
—Do you know who the pilot is? How much did you talk? What did you tell him?
—His name is Vanrra; he's a good guy, not as tough as I pictured. We talked a lot; he's not a bad person. In fact, he's a bit naive. It was a mistake for him to be on that ship. I still can't believe he actually managed to pilot this monster.
—Did you capture him already?
—They're about to bring him up. Don't treat him badly; I don't want to look bad with him.
—Did he tell you where he's from? His past?
—He said he came from the Tian Shan mountains; I believe him.
—Did he mention a companion?
—Yes, a doctor—he said he was like his father.
The general was on the other end of the radio, next to the big cranes. Hiram stood beside him, with Nage pointing both revolvers at his back. Hiram felt a mix of relief and something he hadn't experienced in a long time: attachment?
Nage holstered his pistols. —What a pity, he told the truth.
—I never lie.
—The best lie is to tell only part of the truth.
Arian said, —Get up here right now, Amir. —He put the radio aside. —I didn't think you were telling the truth. Vanrra, is that the pilot's name? I'm dying to meet him.
—Don't get your hopes up.
—Nothing is insignificant; I can count on my fingers all the pilots I've ever met.
—Outside this nation, it's not so unusual.
—I mean the neural synchronization models; the rest are just scrap metal; even a child could handle them. —One of the cranes started lifting the rope; Amir and Vanrra were strapped to it with harnesses. They came out of the crevice. The other cranes lifted both mechs, one at a time; it took all afternoon.
Vanrra and Hiram were taken away from the operation. They sat in the shade of one of the trucks. —Are you unharmed, doc?
—I was lucky they didn't shoot me. How do you feel in there? You're a prodigy. You were able to synchronize almost without problems. I saw you fight.
—It was horrible, doc. The pain…it was… I still feel it.
—It's your first time; it happens to everyone.
—How did you know I could pilot that thing?
—Did I have another choice? I could have gotten in, but you definitely don't know how to handle the safety mechanisms. It was a risky bet; I had to trust you.
—Just that? A simple bet.
—Life is about taking chances; everything is a big game. Right now, we're betting on trusting these people and betting that tomorrow we'll still be alive. Nothing guarantees it; we just choose to bet that it will happen.
—Is everything a game to you?
—Partly. People live as if they're in a game; many don't realize it. I just adapt to the rules. If we want to reach our goal, we have to find the best way to win.
—Do you have a strategy?
—The only winning strategy is to cheat.
—What do you know about these people, the Ismaelites?
—Just a bit; they're much more organized than I expected. The propaganda paints them as desert nomads. There's some truth to that.
—Can we trust them?
—Only for now; we have no other choice. Did you meet the prince? What's he like?
He looked at the prince from his spot; he was being cheered by his men as he passed by. —He's another madman. He reminds me of someone; I don't know why. For some strange reason, I trust him; I can't explain it.
—Vanrra, what I told you on the ship, when you got into the mech… I said it because… I didn't mean it; these days have been really hard. You're not the only one with doubts.
—It seems you're finally becoming the old doc. again. —They finished getting both mechs out; they placed each one on a truck. Evening arrived; they began dismantling all the equipment; they would leave as soon as possible. —Doc, did they tell you where we're going?
—To the west, out of the desert. To a place where we can finally rest.
Both were escorted by Nage to one of the trucks; they sat in one of the trailers, near the cab, in the open air. The same truck carried the blue mech; it was so big that it needed two platforms. Nage sat in front of them. He pointed one of his revolvers at each of them. Hiram said to him, —Are you going to be like this the whole trip?
—It's protocol.
The truck started moving; next to them was another identical truck carrying the red mech. The other vehicles followed them; they formed a column of steel. All of them were modified in some way, with extra armor or hand cannons. They kept the same desert aesthetic. They left the paramilitaries behind; next to the wreckage of the ship—a supposed act of mercy. Vanrra could see Amir inside the cab. Amir leaned out the window and waved at him from afar, in a somewhat ridiculous way.
Hiram said to the mechanic, —Is that your glorious prince?
—Unfortunately, yes, nothing like his father. He's still very young; he'll change.
He said, somewhat incredulous. —Did you know the king?
—Don't you believe me?
—I thought the aristocracy of Ab was the most refined on the continent.
—You're not wrong. The spoiled children and the cowardly men in suits didn't hesitate to lick the High Porte's boots; only honorable men decided to fight, and only the strongest survived.
The truck rocked from side to side; the huge engine made a loud noise. Hiram noticed something strange in those vibrations; he tried to decipher what it was. That flaw bothered him.
Nage asked him. —Is something bothering you?
—You know about machines. Can you hear it?
—What exactly?
—The engine.
—I don't hear anything wrong.
Vanrra said to him. —Doc is an engine expert; he's never wrong.
Nage just looked at him in silence, with a comically serious face. —You saying something's wrong, brainiac?
—I can feel it; the vibrations don't match.
—We're moving over sand and rock; on uneven ground, the vibrations will be irregular.
He leaned over the edge of the platform. —You're saying it's the ground?
—What else could it be? At this speed, we'll reach the shelter by nightfall.
Vanrra asked him. —What's your shelter like?
—Nothing nice; be ready to sleep among cockroaches.
Hiram looked at the rest of the convoy, about fifteen trucks, all very close together. They were slowly leaving the sand and rocks; they could see the bushes just ahead. —Aren't you afraid we'll be attacked?
—The satraps can't even agree to have dinner with their own families, much less chase us in no man's land.
Vanrra asked again. —What exactly are you, Nage? Just a mechanic? You seem to have a lot of trust with the General.
—None of your business. Don't forget you're a prisoner. I don't give a damn what the prince promised you. He's not here, and the general holds me in high enough regard to forgive me for an accident. —He cocked the hammer of one of his revolvers.
Hiram threatened him. —If you do anything to him…
He interrupted him. —If I do something to him? What will happen to me? What am I supposed to be afraid of?
Hiram looked at him with deep contempt, a mix of hatred and disgust. His amber eyes seemed to shine a bit more than usual. Hage, for his part, didn't back down; he stood firm, though it was a bit awkward. Both men stared at each other, waiting for one to make a move.
The tension was palpable. Vanrra tried to look away; out of the corner of his eye, he could see a small spot on the horizon. A tiny black dot. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it during the trip; he thought it was just a distant rock, but every time he looked at it, it grew a little larger, so slowly it was almost imperceptible.
He grabbed Hiram's arm. —Doc… Doc…
—Not now?
—Doc… Do you still have your binoculars?
—I didn't get them back. Do you need something?
Nage said jokingly. —You want to see the rocks up close, kid?
—Look, doc. —He pointed with his finger.
Hiram strained his eyes. —What's going on? —He recognized that thing. He stood up immediately.
—What are you doing? Sit down!
—Do you see that over there?
—What thing?
—That spot.
—What's with that rock?
Vanrra said worriedly. —It's a demon, an abomination! It's running this way!
He stood up. He banged on the truck's cabin. —Chesam! —A bearded man looked out from above the cab. He wore a large brown cape and a big hat of the same color. —Look in that direction! Tell me what you see! —From his position, he aimed with his sniper rifle; the scope was as long as the barrel. —The black spot? Look for a black spot! Are you sure?
—We ran into that thing when we got to the desert. It's about twenty meters long; it's like a fat spider.
The sniper fired a red flare into the sky; everyone reacted immediately. They spoke over the radio. —A djin, three o'clock. It's heading toward us. —Do you know what it looks like? —Not yet, General; it's still too far. —It's coming fast. —Don't stop! Prepare the weapons.
Nage kept staring at the thing. —Are you sure it's twenty meters long?
—Its legs are huge; it runs much faster than these vehicles.
—How did you survive?
—The cannons from Samarkand scared it away.
—City artillery, our cannons won't even scratch it. —He turned to look at Vanrra. —Kid, you'll have to get in the mech now.
—But it's supposed to be damaged.
—Let's hope it can still walk. —Amir was already on the rear platform, ready to get in. —You'll have to go out and face it; we can't let it get close to us.
—Let Amir handle it on his own!
—If it's twenty meters long, I doubt a single unit can handle it.
—I'll never get in that thing again; you don't know what it feels like!
Hiram grabbed him by the shoulder. —You have to do it; you already did it once; it's not impossible.
—You, doc, should pilot it; you're much better than me!
—I can't, Vanrra; you're the only one who can synchronize.
—I'm going to screw it up!
—You have to do it, Vanrra. Remember the dream you had. You have to fight just like in your dream.
—But I…
Nage shouted at them. —Oh! Holy shit, I see it now. What the hell is that? You have to get in now! —He grabbed Vanrra by the arm and pulled him toward the mech. Vanrra froze in fear as soon as he saw those big eyes again; they reminded him of that titan, of Devi, of those terrible shocks. Panic hit him again; he moved to the edge of the platform.
He could see how Amir was already getting into the mech; his men raised their weapons, cheering his name. The heads of the abomination were already visible on the horizon; it seemed to be moving much faster than last time. Hiram snapped him out of his trance. —Are you ready?
Vanrra walked along the platform until he reached the mech. Nage placed a small radio on his chest. Several men helped him climb up to the neck; he almost fell due to the constant swaying. He got to the hatch again and put his hands on the lights; the door opened. The cockpit was still lit with that red light. He went to the seat. They spoke to him over the radio. —Vanrra, can you see the panel?
—The one with the buttons?
—Press the blue button; it will restart the system. When the screens turn white, you'll be able to pilot again. —Vanrra obeyed. The cockpit darkened for a moment; the hatch closed. After a few seconds, the screens turned back on. —Hurry up, Vanrra, Amir can move already.
He sat in the chair and got in position to grab the levers. He paused for a moment; he trembled being back in that position. He'd have to do it again, suffer once more. Why him? What is all this about? Is there any meaning? Is it part of a bigger story? He couldn't think anymore; the truck braked suddenly. —Do it now! —The roar of the cannons sounded.
—Why me? Amir can do it alone; he'll get us out of this. I'd just be a burden. I don't have the strength… My help won't change anything. I do not... fear.
The convoy came to a complete stop. Amir activated his mech, stood up on the platform, and got down to the ground. The great abomination was less than a kilometer away; it was a dark shadow, impossible to make out the details of its body, a bizarre silhouette. Its heads looked static, as if made of stone.
Amir stretched, testing the condition of his mech. —How far is it?
—Eight hundred meters.
He took a combat stance. —I want you to support me; don't leave me alone against that thing. You're supposed to be professionals.
—At your command, Prince.
—Vanrra, can you hear me? Did you get into the cockpit?! Vanrra? Why isn't he answering?
—Five hundred meters. Ready! —Crush it, Amir.
—Copy, General. What bad luck running into these things; supposedly, they'd almost all been eliminated. —He ran toward the demon; the abomination didn't stop. Amir braked hard and anchored himself to the ground. The spider crashed into him at full speed; it tried to knock him down. Amir withstood the impact. The creature's core was covered in layers of stone. The collision was like being hit by a cannonball. The spider's legs ended in stone claws. Their heads were covered in the same material: hairy worms with a small, bright blue eye in their mouths.
Amir managed to push the thing aside. It was impossible to hurt; it had no weak points. Amir just dodged the charges and slashes of its legs. No matter how much friendly fire, the stone armor didn't crack. The abomination rammed Amir, knocking him to the ground and beginning to stab him with its sharp legs.