Part IV

  10 – Indli

  The rising sun spilt its rays through the hills and mountains onto the fields below, sparkling the dew on the coasts of the sea. It was a kind of land I hadn’t seen before, but I was too distant to appreciate it. Throughout the journey from the island, I kept in seclusion as often as the submarine’s confines would allow. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to others yet.

  The loss of a leader and friend split us apart. Our hunting group had little reason to stay together, and Malahej had fallen into solitude, as well. All I would ever see him doing while we were onboard was tinkering with his pike, just to pass the time. Ornue would sometimes approach me and try to start a conversation, but it would never last more than a minute.

  I hadn’t seen Kesha at all, so I assumed that she was with her mother the entire time. My parents kept to themselves, too. And yet, I felt like the center of attention, and all of it was negative and kept a secret from me. The only one who ever truly spoke with me was Tyu. I kindly asked him to leave the first time, but it wasn’t long before his words of wisdom and solidarity reached me, and as usual, made me feel a little better.

  Feeling was something I had forgotten. There was no sadness or anger; just a numb emotion, as if the world was going by and I had no part in it. I nearly went to Vince to talk about losing loved ones, but turned back at his door, fearing such a discussion. And I didn’t want counseling.

  There was barely enough room for everyone in the small, crowded underwater ship. We made acquaintances with the crew and learned that one of the Resistance’s early missions involved the theft of some imperial submarines on their way to the scrapyard. Years later, only three remained in operation—and we were in one of them. Dark, cold, and ominous, the vessel provided little in the way of comfort, but I did feel safe inside.

  I scoured it once, finding many disused weapon cabinets. At the bow was an outdated weapon system that fired something called torpedoes, another human invention of mass destruction. But the submarine, originally designed by our creators for war, was now being used as an escort for the felile. Someday I hoped to fully understand our creators’ intentions—and why that understanding had been lost when we fled from them.

  “Attention passengers, we are almost at our destination—it will be about a half day’s journey from here,” one of the captains had announced. “We have to receive clearance to enter the golden city, so we’re making a stop in a nearby port town. I’d advise all hunters and the humans to join us, as the people we are about to meet have opportunities for you. That is all.”

  We then surfaced and every hunter gathered at the upper deck. Streams of water were still pouring off the submarine’s smooth edges as I leaned over the side of the railing to quietly watch the changing scenery.

  Another hour passed. I was beginning to doze off when I heard commotion from the front. I walked over to the others and saw what they did: a massive manmade wall spread across an inlet. It reached from one coast to the other, and guard towers dotted the top of the structure. The wall was rather crudely built, being comprised of compacted garbage and scrap metal. Even so, it stood strong as a four-meter tall barrier above the surface, and it had a working gate of entry in the center.

  “My partner’s getting clearance. We should be through right away,” I heard one of the two captains telling everyone from the bow.

  “What’s beyond here?” a felile asked.

  “A city unlike any other. We’ll head there after we stop at the harbor directly behind and north of these walls. There is an army of sorts you should meet with, given that the Resistance and its allies have really been active lately, and the life may appeal to a number of you.”

  “An army? A felile army?” a jubilant younger felile asked.

  “No. This would be a human one.”

  No response. Using the words “human” and “army” in the same sentence was not the best thing to hear about considering recent events.

  Ornue and Mala were at the very tip of the bow, talking to each other quietly. Nearby them was Vince, with his sister and Martin. It was odd to think that none of us, except for the two captains, knew what lay beyond the barrier. How could a place be that mysterious?

  We had found out that the crew was made up of a renegade felile group escaping from a region called Peru. Somewhere along the way, they picked up the shuttle’s distress signal and decided to investigate, apparently realizing that the likelihood of us being imperials was small. The crew was only about twenty strong when they picked us up, and the village filled the vessel to maximum capacity. The captains must’ve once lived in this “golden city,” but they kept very secretive about what it was like.

  Silence enveloped us for a few minutes as we slowed to a crawl and the gate shuddered open. It soon stopped, leaving only a narrow gap to proceed through—not nearly enough for the Sea Pearl.

  The submarine continued, barely slipping into the bay. The doors, about the same depth as they were tall above the surface, but hollow after just a thin layer of compacted metal, closed behind us. We turned northward, and a distant city appeared on the horizon.

  At first, it appeared near-empty or dead altogether, but as we got closer, we could see a little bit of activity. The harbors were mostly vacant, and the taller buildings behind them seemed to have been unused for years. I wondered how safe the villagers would be here. This whole town couldn’t belong solely to felile, as the captain had just mentioned a human army.

  As we turned towards a pier, I focused on a few figures and froze in a moment of fear. They were human, as the captain said—and they wore uniforms similar to the Terra-Forces. But they weren’t in thick battle armor, nor were they armed. My heart had only leapt on impulse, and it became calm again quickly. About a dozen men and women stood waiting for us at the harbor, some with badges pinned to their long, green coats that reached to their feet. They exhibited strong postures and confident faces.

  The submarine docked with a thud, and was then loosely locked in by several mechanical grips on the side of the pier. The other captain came rushing out topside and hit a switch to extend a boarding platform. He gave the signal to stay on the deck, now unaffected by the waves. I sniffed the acrid air, noticing that it smelled like what our village factory once fumed.

  Though the officers and their uniforms were clean, the city was fairly dirty. It was covered in some places with soot, and was clearly in poor shape, so it confirmed for me that few people actually lived in the area. The sky above was quite hazy, and the air wasn’t pleasant to breathe in. There must’ve been many factories over the entire region.

  The officers kept their eyes on the captain as he approached them. He stopped, said a few words, and shook the highest-ranking man’s hand. The second in command, a female officer, also welcomed the felile captain before he signaled to Martin and his crewmen to come over. They hastily complied. I could hardly tell that none of them had been here before.

  After a few minutes of talking among themselves, the captain gave the go-ahead to allow any interested hunters to come with them. Mala and Ornue were among the first on the pier. I followed behind the groups, still keeping to myself. It was surprising that most of us went without a second thought, considering our previous encounter with a military force.

  As we got closer to the city, the sheer number of ports and towers that kept it working came into view. Some of the tallest structures were badly damaged—one even appeared to be blown in half. Still, the area did seem to prosper as an industrial site. Most of those that weren’t groomed officers were dirty, sweat-covered workers who barely took notice of us.

  We ended up at the tallest building in the city, overlooking the water. Several small tanks were on the road nearby, moving across in close formation. They looked like imperial machines, but were painted dark green instead of black. This was a very strange place. Were these all Resistance members? And what did any of this have to do with our destination? With a desire for answers, we entered the tower and followed the officers to a large meeting room, where a few rows of chairs faced a stage.

  The room seemed to have once been the welcoming area for the building in a more elegant era. The hall was dingy, and the air quality was still quite poor. There was no running electricity, and it was very humid. A number of chairs were broken, but there were enough suitable ones to let all of us have a seat. Once everyone was ready, the officers took the stage. I looked over at Vince, who was with Ruby, Rupert, and Sasha. Pelter and Martin were sitting closest to the low platform.

  The head officer approached a podium and spoke as loudly as he could, “Greetings. Apologies for the poor conditions, but it was the best we do on such short notice. Even if we had more time, I don’t think it’d be much of an improvement, as the few functioning buildings we do have are reserved as housing for our military’s officers.

  “I’d like to start off by saying that we are honored to have you here as guests, and that we are, in fact, on your side. That is, we work with the Resistance. Our group—our entire army, is known as the Indli Union. We are a military production base funded by the Terra-Force Empire.”

  As to be expected, an onrush of chatter flooded the room of felile. I remained still and waited for the tall, black-haired officer to continue.

  “But, we do not actually support the barbarism of the Empire, and we’ve been providing funding to Resistance cells around the world—almost any surplus goes to your groups. We have no intention of causing harm to the felile. We are a secretive unit of their military, operating only up here in Dalian. It needs to be known that the Terra-Forces can call upon us if they need our assistance. We have yet to be ordered into battle, but we still must send most of what we produce to the Empire’s provisional forces.

  “This region had a similar government of its own long ago, and ironically, its people fought an imperial invasion as best they could—in what is perhaps the most famous rebellion against the Empire in history.

  “China was once called a superpower, one of the few in the world. Because of this, the Empire could not easily acquire the region like they had so many others. Eventually, after years of endless bloodshed, the Terra-Forces and the Chinese formed a treaty of non-aggression, which could still be broken any moment. It’s possible that the Terra-Forces are planning an invasion as we speak, but they’d have much to lose.

  “The pact entails that China must assist the Empire’s economy and military, and we would receive no military protection in return. We remain one of the two remaining independent nations in the world, and certainly the largest. The nearby island nation of Singapore is the other one, although they do not support the Resistance in any way.”

  The speaker paused, took a sip of water, and continued in a softer tone. “But most of China is in poverty. Almost everyone works in factories, producing war machines for the Empire. China is a large region with an enormous population, so imagine for a moment how much we produce a year. Freedom comes with a heavy price.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “After the treaty, the Empire chose to fund a small military NGO that would produce machinery allowed to protect China and give thousands of people here jobs. That’s us. We can protect China if we need to, but we also need to fight with the Empire as written in contract. We have—that is, we fully own some five hundred ground vehicles, two hundred gunboats, and fifty or so aircraft. In total, an army about the size of an imperial alpha division. Again, these war machines might be here for emergency deployment for our benefactors, but in the end, they are ours.

  “We operate quietly up here, but there are surprise inspections, typically once a month. If anything raises suspicions, our support and funding could be cut immediately. We’re often under a stressful workload because of this, and there seems to be simply no easy way to provide aid to what we see as a good cause. We keep in close touch with the Resistance, but there is little else that we can do ourselves in the current climate.

  “All of these caveats aside, whenever we see a new batch of Rebel Core hopefuls or those who may become interested once they see the city beyond here, we like to let them know that a sizeable force is right behind them—that the Resistance also has a military, even if it’s asleep, for now.”

  We listened to every word, and it wasn’t long before the questions came. Many wanted to know why Indli couldn’t just launch several decisive strikes on the imperial capital, or couldn’t give any machines to Resistance cells. The officer had to restate that China’s existence depended on the treaty, and that it was too risky to attack. They were too small a force to last for long in a fight, and China would be quickly overrun by the Empire.

  There was a great mix of both frustration and hope in the room. It was uplifting to find that there was some stronger power backing up the felile and willing to fight back, but it was angering that the people here could paradoxically not fight back, as it would be in vain. The officer had to emphasize that any move made now would hurt the Resistance effort, not assist it. But it seemed like no one was going to ask the question I wanted answered. Even Martin and his crew hadn’t brought it up.

  “Um, sir…” I blurted out.

  Everyone in the seats turned around and looked at me like they had the others—eager, perhaps desperate to receive even just one more response. I grew quite nervous, but continued with my query.

  “But… there will be a time when you will be able to attack the Empire, right? Or else… what’s even the point of all this?”

  “That is what we hope to see, but such a time must be carefully chosen. Either when their guard is down, or at the last desperate moment. There is no doubt that we’d fail unless we and other groups like us work together. We’re too isolated. We’d need the support of… well, everyone.”

  “What if we were able to… I don’t know, suddenly gain the trust of most of the world? If even just the people who can’t fight?”

  The officer paused, thought over his answer, and replied, “If most of the world even briefly fell into anarchy, a strike may be possible in the moment of confusion. But we’d need to find a way and reason to incite the masses. If we attacked any other time, the world would see us as traitors—think of us as the enemy. But a world of angry people who know the truth, even one of the modest with no desire to fight… Such an uprising would not be crushed easily. In order to gain that support, we’d have to get out the hard, full truth. We’d only have one chance, and it hasn’t come yet.”

  The female officer stood and added, “This has been a possible goal of ours for years, but the only option is to take over all of the networks at once. We’d need to get the message onto every screen and tablet newsfeed in the world. But there are six separate networks, with billions of people watching them at any given moment. We need all six.”

  There was some murmuring in the audience before the male officer began again. “The area you’re standing in is… or was, a city called Dalian. Nearly three million people lived here. Now, there are only five thousand, and almost all of them work for the Union. Dalian is only one of countless cities around the world that has fallen through war and economic collapse.

  “This enemy the Empire speaks of… I wonder if it actually does exist. Perhaps there is some other force behind it all. But now the public knows what they want to believe, that felile are somehow the grand nemesis of humanity. Despite this blow, we will keep pushing onward, not just for the honor of what once was, but also for all of what needs to change.

  “I have called only the hunters and humans here today, because I wanted only those who can fight to know about us—only those likely willing to defend the city ahead of you. Remember, no matter what it seems, the Indli Union is on your side. And we have a common goal. I still remain confident that the Terra-Forces will fall from their own arrogance, perhaps with help from their supposed allies one day.

  “Today is only another small step, but we won’t let you go empty-handed. We’ve tweaked our records to provide you with some weaponry. We have twenty Conoron bow-guns, for any takers. It is not my decision what you will do when you get to the city, but I can at least play a part in your protection. First off, will Mr. Druvska, Vince, Ruby, Rupert, and Sasha come up to the stage and take these small gifts?”

  An officer came out from a door and onto the platform, lugging a cart of containers. After Martin’s crew picked up their new weapons, the commanding officer continued.

  “The rest are for the felile. Please only take one if you are skilled with a firearm. We need these to belong to the best marksmen here. These weapons have a scope and fire an armor-piercing shockbolt. They are much stronger than spinels and are one of the few projectile weapons that can penetrate imperial armor. These are not for hunting; they are deadly and require that knowledge. And you won’t be able to carry these into the city unless you’re in the Rebel Core, or joining. Otherwise, they will take them and give them to existing members. But that is just as well.”

  At first, no felile stepped up. It took some time for the hunters to identify themselves as worthy to use the weapon, which would effectively sign them up for the central Resistance at the same time—a hard decision. But eventually, after Ornue and Mala took a pair, only one was left. No one made a move for it, so I reluctantly stepped up and took it. The bow-gun was inside a long, metal casket, and was obviously brand new.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more, but if these weapons entice you to join the Core, you may one day be a part of our long-term goal of getting someone into Moscow. Until then, keep doing what the Resistance always has—show truth to the public eye, gather more fighters, and do whatever it takes to win over oppression. Felile are no different from humans, and that is the message you need to get out, now more than ever. Persevere, and you will succeed, as no one can destroy something that never gives up. Your journey ends and begins again in Cristyl City. It is an amazing place that we will give our lives to protect. Years ago, it had another name—Beijing—and it was the capital of China. And now it is our future.

  “The city is guarded from the east by ourselves, from the north and west by endless mountain ranges, and from the south by numerous ghost towns, old industrial sectors, and scrapyards that would hinder a ground invasion. Cristyl is the last, true city of this nation. All the others are only shadows of their former selves, and many are impoverished metropolises. Still, even Cristyl is not invincible. That’s why she needs you. My name is General Yu, the commanding officer of Indli. You may use our services until you take your leave. Good luck to you all.”

  With nothing more to say, we were dismissed as Yu hurried off the small stage, most likely to tend to another important task. I strapped the bow-gun on my back, unsure if I would ever use it.

  We waited around a while before leaving, and I kept seated until Martin and the others departed. Once we were outside and back into the late morning industrial air, I spotted a small group of humans a few docks away, clearly visible in their colorful clothing that separated them from the dirtied workers. After Martin saw the group, he froze in place.

  “Who are they? Someone you know?” Ruby asked.

  “Old friend…” Martin replied. “One of my last still around.”

  The group of three consisted of a tall, brown-haired man, a girl about Ruby and Jess’ age, and a man who almost looked like a younger Rupert. Once they noticed us, Martin went over to meet the group. He stopped in front of the taller man and shook hands. They exchanged a few words before Martin turned back to us.

  “This is Christopher Stanford,” he said, almost joyfully, “an old acquaintance of mine.”

  “Yes, ’ello, Martin’s friends!” Chris replied in a thick accent.

  “Chris, you got a few minutes?” Martin asked. “It’s been a long time… Wouldn’t mind buying you a drink.”

  “Ah, that would be great, I think. Yes, I would very much like to meet your new friends ‘ere.” He turned to his two companions, “Vinish loading the ship, I’ll be with you shortly.”

  The two nodded and headed off on the nearby dock to a small, black ship. Martin’s team went ahead with Chris to a shack resting on the edge of the harbor, surrounded by resting workers and “tables” made out of some kind of large industrial wooden spools. I stood alone for a moment before joining them. We ended up sitting at the largest table; nothing more than a row of disused crates lined together. I took a seat at the end, near Vince and Pelter, and Chris sat across from Martin.

  “They don’t serve much. I think we should keep it simple,” Chris explained as he rubbed his cold hands and a server came up to him.

  “What’ll it be?” he asked simply.

  “Eight—no, nine caramel ciders, please,” Chris responded.

  “What do you pay with out here, anyway?” Martin asked. “Never been to such a place.”

  “Oh, they take imperial credits just vine.”

  “Well, ah…” Martin spoke aloud, “everyone, Chris is the leader of a small Resistance group, and someone who I’ve kept in light contact with ever since we fled a certain… experiment.”

  “You both went to the same military academy?” Sasha asked.

  “Oh, yes, yes… ’orrible place. After we got out, we both wound up in Resistance groups. Diverent ones, of course. Druvska went to America and I stayed in Europe. Now we meet in the middle, ha.”

  The server, practically indistinguishable from any of the workers, returned with two trays of glasses filled with a dull, orange, foaming liquid and put a drink in front of everyone.

  “Ah, thank you,” Chris said to the server before turning back to us. “Don’t worry, it is better than it looks, I promise.”

  I looked at the beverage. I had gone through the last few days drinking purified seawater; safe to drink, but it always retained a bit of the ocean taste. This had to be better, at the very least. I went ahead and gulped down about half the stuff.

  Other than some occasional berry juice back at the village, I had no experience with flavored beverages. The cider was pretty tasty, though I never had anything else that I could really compare it to. Pelter drank his entire serving in one long gulp, putting the glass back on the table and keeping quiet after a small burp. Everyone else took modest sips.

  “So, Chris, what have you been up to lately?” Martin asked.

  “Oh, we’ve been, ah… Very busy. What with the whole veelile being our enemies and all of that bad nonsense.”

  “Yes, I know… So, what have you or other cells you’re in contact with been doing to combat the news? If… anything.”

  “Oh, there isn’t much we can do for now, I think, except let things play out and cool down some. You know, our group is small… Unlike yours—” he laughed, “we can’t dart around the world quite as much.”

  “So you’ve heard of our travels?”

  “Yes, yes. Just ’ave. News spreads. I thought I might catch you ’ere, actually. We stopped for a few days to resupply and all of that. We’ll be heading to Cristyl soon. Yeah, I ’eard about ‘ow you got trapped on those islands with a village of veelile recently. And something about a plane crash? Ah, anyway, it is good to see your group alive and well.”

  I could see Martin about to reply, but he suddenly decided not to. Maybe he wasn’t ready to put into words what all had happened.

  “And have you been to Cristyl before?” Jess asked.

  “Oh, no… No, we ‘aven’t. But it sounds like it’s the ’ub of activity now, doesn’t it? These days, any group on the run seems to end up there. And I ‘ave also ‘eard that the Core is sending invitations. My guess is that they are recruiting for some new big push. Something new. But I don’t know much about all of that.” Chris finished his cider. “I tell you one thing, though, the situation in Europe… not so good. Just this last month, three other groups I’ve worked with were captured.”

  “I heard about Acturus…” Martin replied.

  “Terrible loss. And he was ‘aving some success improving relations with the European Underground. I’ve been in Australia for the last year or so, but it’s not so good anywhere, even in a region known as refuge… Now more cities are on the verge of being lost behind those green domes.”

  “Yes…” Martin looked at his empty glass. “Chris, about Kepper… Back in Chicago, he…”

  I perked up and listened closely. Chris only needed a moment to understand what Martin was trying to say.

  “… Oh, I’m very sorry… Yes, that is unfortunate.”

  “Thank you for sending him our way. He was a great aid to our group in those last few months. And he saved our lives.”

  “Yes, yes. Very good veelile, he was.”

  “Well… thank you, Chris. I know you’re busy, so I’ll let you go.”

  “The pleasure was mine. Please, I will pay. You are traveling, and I think you need the money for more important things.”

  “I’m sure we’ll see each other again some time.”

  “Yes, yes. I am sure we will. We will be in Cristyl soon too. Let’s get together for another drink, yes?”

  They shook hands again, and a few minutes later, we were back on the submarine for the remaining trek to this supposedly magical city.

  Before I returned to my room, I quietly talked briefly with Martin in the corridor. “My brother… He’s been around, hasn’t he?”

  “He met Chris in the Seattle area and helped with a few intel runs. Chris was only there for a month, but was impressed. So before they parted ways, he made a recommendation. When was the last time you saw him?”

  “A few years ago. He must’ve left in the middle of the night… I could never understand why.”

  “Hm, personal ambitions. Whatever happened, he ended up working for a time in two groups. He was a great friend to us.”

  “Had anyone in the village found out that he left to help humans, he would’ve dishonored our family. I guess that’s why he disappeared… Anyway. I’m going to go,” I said and tugged at the bow-gun’s strap.

  “All right, Veli. Take care.”

  Our encounter with Martin’s old friend sparked something in me and reminded me of the ways a family could be defined. They could be worlds apart and still think of one another. And the experience here made me feel a little less lonely, knowing that there really were many others who cared and fought for my people. When we got to the city, I promised myself that I’d get reacquainted with Vince and his friends.