Evaporated Humanity

The torrid wind swept back Artemis’s golden red hair in a cascade of brilliance as she rested on the rocky plateau. Squatted casually on her heels, she drank from her water pouch, more a sip than a true drink.  I need to purchase more water soon she thought to herself, taking a quick glance back at her war craft.  Do I have enough to barter two pouches’ worth? 

         The worry of her situation fueled her desire to assess it, and she rose quickly, taking long strides back to her ship and rummaging through her belongings.  Three shikali bracelets, ten seeds, four vials of opiate….. She didn’t want to use the opiate, as it was highly advantageous to have for her wounds after a battle.  The bracelets and seeds might, just might, get her a pouch, considering which tribe she was closest to.  As much as one part of her hated to feel this way, a stronger part hoped to find a battle soon so she could get more bartering supplies.  She turned her blue-green eyes to the sun.  Its nearly drought season in Dihara….the raiders will be coming soon.  She would not thirst for long.

         Tossing her lithe body into the driver’s seat, Artemis fired the nuclear generator into life.  The beast sputtered once before catching.  Maintenance too, Artemis thought.  Damn, unless it’s a good fight I won’t be able to get more than a week’s worth of Krakieh.  She fired the propellers, and was soon whizzing over the plateau on its wheels, racing toward the edge.  Upon reaching it, she fired off the edge and flew into the air.    “Dihara, Dihara…” she said aloud to herself over the sound of the air rushing by. “This way,” as she turned to the left.  “I’ll be there in an hour.”

         Forty peaceful minutes later she came in sight of Dihara…burning.  Right on time she thought with a slightly evil grin, the mercenary spirit in her finally overcoming all other, more philanthropic desires.  She flew into the decrepit city, touching down in the town’s square to set her price as the other ships focused on the spring at the far side.  People paid so much more during times of despair, and although she despise the feeling of taking advantage of them, she knew that if she bartered after the fact she would get close to nothing for her services.

         “Good Mercenary!  Do you fight on this day?”  An old man, looking nearly forty-five, came running up to her craft, spewing the cultural courtesies.  To have survived to this age meant that he must be a member of the tribal council.

         “Aye, good sir, I will fight, assuming the payment is worthy,” Artemis replied in the cultural norm.

         “What it is you seek?  We will offer three pouches of water and twenty seeds for your services.” The elder responded quickly.

         Three pouches and twenty seeds?  They are losing.  Artemis thought.  “I will only fight for you if you include four flasks of Krakieh,” she said.

         The elder hesitated, but only for a moment.  “Done!” he cried, looking around the square.  “Three water pouches,  twenty seeds, and four flasks of Krakieh if you protect us and drive off the marauders.”

         “Four LARGE flasks of Krakieh.  They must  be post-military size.”

         “DONE!”  he cried, and pleaded, “Please fight!  They are about to land!”

         As she took off, Artemis couldn’t help but feeling slightly annoyed.  If they knew who I was, they would have offered much more, but I arrived too late to even bother with introductions.  Such was the way with mercenaries.  Depending on if there was a raid or battle in progress, and even on the status of it, mercenaries, particularly those that were good, would go through the ceremonial introduction process. However, if a raid had reached a certain level, it was customary to only set the terms before fighting, and considered pompous and unprofessional to go about introducing ones’ self.  Artemis had screwed herself over arriving so late in the battle, but considering how it was progressing, they were fortunate she had arrived at all.  Besides, she got a good deal out of it, so she shouldn’t complain.

         Reluctant to waste any more time, Artemis took off.  Her craft took her straight up into the air, turning in place as she glanced over the battle.  It was focused around the town center, where the water supply bubbled up near the surface, a strong spring with only a limited amount of magnesium and salt allowing the populace to potentially live to fifty.  The marauders were attempting to gain access to the pure water, killing anyone in their path with plasma beams from their vessels.  Artemis kept her craft low, maneuvering between buildings emptied of residents, ready to ascend up into the heat of battle to avoid damage to the outlying settlements.  She came underneath one of the attacking crafts, the pilot so focused on his prize he never noticed Artemis there.  She took a moment to make note of the markings on the craft Ziharti she thought they are far from home.  Is the supply there so thin they have to travel all this way?  Resolving to ponder the issue when her life wasn’t in danger, or at least when she wasn’t surrounded by plasma beams that weren't her own, she tilted upward and began firing.  Immediately taking out the plasma cannons on the craft above her, Artemis allowed the lame duck to turn and retreat as opposed to destroying more buildings by it crashing.  The attention of the battle almost immediately focused on her, yet she swiftly took out the firing mechanisms of two more craft before one of the ships, the smallest and most advanced with avid markings trailing up both sides denoting him the leader, settled in front of her and made radio contact.

         “Temporary truce to relocate for duel.”  His actions had already spoken louder than his words, the cultural norm of placing his craft directly in line with her cannons signifying trust on the part of leader in her adherence to the norms.

         “Granted.  Tercz?”

         “Artemis….I knew I recognized your craft.  What are you doing in this hell-hole?”

         “I should be asking you the same question, especially considering you are raiding it like it is a heavenly oasis.”

         A low chuckle came over the radio.  “Perhaps it is,” Tercz replied.  “Shall we take this beyond the walls?”

         Artemis nodded, simultaneously turning her craft as he couldn’t see her assent without the video feed.  As they flew side by side she mused slightly on how convenient it was that they always took the duel outside the walls.  It had always been done that way – resources were so scarce people would raid them but not destroy them, as they wouldn’t want to destroy what might someday be their last hope.  It was as much a part of the ritual of the mercenary as the payment was. 

         Now far enough outside the walls to be seen but not destroy, the two crafts stopped and faced each other again, the hovering mechanisms taking them in a slow circle around each others' crafts.  Artemis saw herself and her adversary in her head, historical swords in hand, taking slow side steps as they prepare for battle.  Tercz spun his sword and thrust – his craft rising swiftly as he opened fire on Artemis.  She parried right and followed through with a diagonal swipe from right to left, piloting her craft swiftly to the left and dropping in altitude to fall below Tercz, firing a line of plasma that left smoking scrapes along the front of his craft.  Tucking into a roll after her swipe, Artemis spanned the ground between them in one movement and sent a side sweep at his legs, taking her craft to right below Tercz and firing at close range to penetrate the hull right where the engine and landing gear was encased.  Tercz, far from both the best and worse adversary, flipped his craft as he intentionally lost altitude, jumping out of the way of Artemis’s blade into a forward roll and landing on his feet a safe distance away.  He spun around and then leaped again, his blade poised above his head to bring a strong blow upon Artemis.  His craft flipped and pulled a tight loop, opening fire on Artemis as soon as he was facing her direction.  She rolled out of the way, still crouched by where his feet used to be, and brought her blade straight up, opening fire from her larger cannon on Tercz’s already penetrated craft’s tender underside.  The metal alloy exploded, showering landing gear, ensuring further damage when he had to ground his craft. 

         “Enough!”  His voice, strained and panting, came over the radio.  “We will retreat.  Well fought, as usual, Artemis.”

         “You should have saved your craft and given up in the beginning,” Artemis said with a smile, showing him she was just teasing as she flicked on the video feed to his craft, her grinning face framed by gold red hair only slightly matted with sweat, a light sheen across her proportioned face and slightly flushed cheeks. 

         Tercz panting visage showed up a few seconds later, sweat running down his face, his dark brown hair matted to his head.  He ran a hand through his hair, perpetually messy, arms covered with tattoos marking his tribe and rank, gold hoops running up the side of one ear indicating his level of duel success.  “I would say you earned another of my rings, but I see you still refuse to wear them.”

         “I’m here for resources, not for glory.  I prefer to let me reputation precede me instead of advertising it.”

         “I’m amazed at how your are simultaneously modest and yet not.”  Tercz grinned.  “I’ll get going.  Knowing you, you managed to nab a promise of Krakieh, and you’ll be wanting to get to it.  I’m sure we will duel again.”

         “Likely.  Just don’t let me see you here again anytime soon – I won’t be so nice next time.”  Artemis smiled again.  “May you always find water, but try to do it nicely, all right?”

         Tercz laughed.  “May you always find water,” he said, then shut off the feed, his tribesmen lined up behind him, having joined him as soon as they saw he lost, who followed him as he turned his ship away from the village and flew slowly away, landing gear still hanging from his vessel, occasionally sparking.  They would stop a few miles out and put his craft in more stable state for flying, and then go nurse their wounds, trying to find more water along the way.  If it weren’t for the fact that they were stealing, Artemis would have felt bad sending them off without water.  We all have a place to fit, Artemis thought, and the most effective people fit in without taking unfairly from others.  He’ll be fine regardless.  She monitored his retreat for a few minutes, then turned her craft in the opposite direction, ready to collect on her battle fee.

         As Artemis flew back in over the town, she surveyed the damage that the raid had wrought.  Fortunately, it was limited to the central plaza where the well was guarded, in which the previously hidden people of the town now stood eying the smoky remains of two guard towers.  Artemis lowered her craft until it was skimming barely above the tops of the buildings, giving fair warning to the crowd of folk, and as she expected they cleared an area for her to land.

         There was no cheering as Artemis climbed out of her craft, just a smattering of applause.  This town had been ravaged many times in the past few months heroes no longer existed, just those that prevented fighting for a short while.  After seeing it happen so often the tribesmen no longer felt saved; they merely wondered how quickly the next raid would come. 

She stood by her ship, waiting for the elder with whom she had spoken to find her.  There was no concern that her terms wouldn’t be met – if there is any one thing that a village doesn’t want to do, its cheat a mercenary that just saved them.  Word travels quickly among rogues, and any village accused of stinginess and attempts to renegotiate after a fight would have a hard time finding defenders.  She leaned on the side panel easily, directly next to the panel that opened to the inlaid firing mechanism, as though to emphasize what she had just done.  Artemis had already done a visual check of her craft upon exiting, and failed to notice any troubling damages.  A more thorough check is in order, but Artemis preferred to do any real damage assessment away from prying eyes, not only to preserve the secrecy of her craft but also to help keep up a tough façade.  So far she had been fortunate that her ship always fared well enough that she could relocate to a secure location in order to make her repairs.  She always carried a repair kit with all necessary implements (short of large casings, but the titanium alloy on her ship had so far never needed replacing) and thus never had to make repairs in town.

She only had to lounge for a few minutes before the man arrived, several more men presumably of the tribal council with him.  “Well fought,” he said in a gruff voice, sounding considerably lower pitched than he was when she first spoke with him.  “We are in your debt.”

“Quite the contrary,” she replied coolly, casting an eye across the whole group while continuing to lean.  “We set our terms.  Bring me my price and we will be even.”

“About that….” The man said, looking distinctly worried and voice raising slightly, making an obvious effort to look Artemis in the eye as he glanced at her, away, at her, away again, and finally settling on her unwavering gaze.  “I’m afraid the terms that I set cannot be met as planned. “

“I do hope you are joking, sir,” Artemis said slowly, her voice hardening ever so much.  “Considering how many raids you have recently be subjected to, now is hardly the time to cheat a rogue.”

“How do you know what raids we have been subjected to of late?” another man, standing almost behind the first, stepped to the fore.

Artemis laughed.  “I see the signs.” 

The man began to grow red in the face, then waved his arm as though waving his anger away.  “In that case, I’m sure you understand that our resources allocated to rogue payment have been stripped to nothing, and as we have had a few rougeless raids, our general supplies are running thin.  Everyone is getting starved, and you cannot claim to be better than anyone else.”

The crowd, who had now gathered around this small group, sucked in a simultaneous breath.  Artemis took note of their reaction, while keeping her gaze trained on the men before her.  It took a lot of effort to keep her initial thought to herself. My actions allow you weak tribesmen to exist!  That deserves no compensation?  Instead she merely said “What do you propose?”

The man drew himself up smugly, as though he had won the argument.  “We can give you two flasks of water and three good seeds, but no Krakieh.”

“That….is less than half of the agreement.  If I let word get out that you even suggested such a cheat, you will never be protected again.”

“What is protection that you pay for?”  The man leered.

“Joseph!  That is enough.”  A third man of the group, arguably the oldest (looking nearly fifty), stepped to the fore.  “Forgive him,” he said, turning his attention back to Artemis.  “All he is trying to say that the deal was made in desperation that we cannot fulfill, and we are sorry.  We need all of the seeds we can get as we may have to start bartering for water in a few months, or less with the way things are going.  We respectfully ask you to renegotiate, and, if possible, to not spread word of our poverty.”

Even Artemis chuckled at this point.  “Spreading word of your poverty may do you more good than harm.  No one robs the poor.

“However, I will not negotiate to the shameful terms that your….friend here suggested.  I demand four flasks of water, seven seeds, and two military flasks of Krakieh.  No less.  Rogues must survive more than just fights in order to be able to fight in the future.”

The man sighed.  “Please give us a moment,” he said, and as soon as Artemis nodded her assent the men huddled together in excited whispers.  She kept one eye on them as she scanned the crowd.  They were torn between watching her and the council of men, gaunt faces and limp hair a testament to how bad it had become for some of them.  Others were nearly pudgy, finely woven clothes taught around their healthy bodies.  She took a closer look at the council men, each one of them far from starving. 

They straightened up from their whispered meeting and turned to face her again.  “We will meet your demands, though we argue that they are unreasonable considering the times.”

“Unreasonable?  Look at you men.  Not a single one of you is starving, nor are many of the people here.  It is only those in the lower classes that currently suffer the stress of famine.  I will not degrade myself to your level by raising my terms, except in this respect – my payment must come from your personal supply.  I must see you bring your own seeds, water flasks, and Krakieh.  I will accept nothing from the tribal supply.”  Artemis’ words were echoed by applause from unseen hands, this time more animated than before.  The council men’s heads swiveled wildly, as though to catch those who dared applaud her demands. 

“Enough!” he yelled, raising his arms.  “Done.  So long as it gets you out of here sooner, it will be done.”

Artemis nodded, then turned to the crowd, arm extended, picking out the most gaunt faces.  “You, you, you, and you.  Go with them and make sure that they take from their personal supply.  Report back to me when they return bearing the goods.”

“Wha--?” the man was cut off by the pounding of four pairs of bare feet as the men and women Artemis picked out strode forward, usually much too meek to stand up for themselves but feeling emboldened by the strong warrior.

“I would prefer to do it myself, but I never leave my craft unattended.  I’ll be here, and please don’t take your time.”

The entire group scowled as the scraggly peasants descended upon them.  Fortunately, everything was done in an orderly manner, and the elders were soon returning with the goods, which they had forced the peasants to carry.  As each one dumped his load at her feet, she bade them to stand to the side.



Sorry!  Not finished yet.