The Primogenitor

"Primogenitor"

At first, Maisie cursed herself. She'd promised herself she'd die in some spectacular way, not as another fool that crossed the Rockies and never came back. It was only after the Barrelheads had shot her, and she saw the blue dart sticking out of her leg, did she realize that a better death was in the cards. There was only one thing Barrelheads took people alive for.

She'd woken up walking with a filthy metal bucket stuffed on her head and her wrists in a zip tie, somewhere back in civilization, judging from how the fresh air burned her nostrils. They could have at least had the courtesy to carry her. It smelled like Denvir, with the petroleum stink from the east unpleasant, but the mountains shielding most of the worst.

Primogenitor. The word did sound nice in her head. This is a spectacular way to die, thought Maisie. They took only a few hundred from Callorado each winter. How they chose them, and what happened to them after they were taken, was anyone's guess, though the Ascendancy took the matter very seriously. Primogenitors who caused enough trouble might get flayed, like an Ascendant would. There's not a bad death either.

Children were chattering between the Barrelheads' footsteps. They brought all their findings through Denvir, one way or another, and something about watching people march to their death excited kids. Years ago, when she found herself in Denvir this time of year, she'd sat with the others, betting on whether the next one would try to beg.

They're going to lose some Irons today. Maisie had no intention of begging. Whatever happened to the Primogenitors once they were gone, they didn't come back, and she had a hard time believing that this was a secret trip to an island of ponies and sunshine the Ascendancy had tucked away in the Western Sea.

She climbed a few metal steps— three— and sniffed. Indoors. A building with recycled air. The train station, no doubt. Someone heaved the bucket off of Maisie's head, fluorescent light flooding through her eyes. "Thanks a lot, to whoever let me borrow their hat."

Two of the Barrelheads exchanged a look— well, Maisie assumed they were looking at each other, but she couldn't really tell with the stationary, black cylinders that sat on their shoulders. Most of the room was coming into view now. Maisie tried for a glimpse at the others they'd brought in, but the Barrelhead with the green butterfly on his helmet grabbed her attention first.

He removed his helmet and smiled at his findings. The other Barrelheads bowed. Bow? I've never seen them do that... A younger man, his skin was pale as snow, his crimson hair long and stringy, and something devilish was in the curve of his lips. "I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that all of you will be heading to the Gold State to meet the Chiefs Ascendant themselves, and will never return to this trash heap again." He scanned his audience like he expected that to please them immensely. "Now the bad news is that most of you are going to die. A whole lot of you."

He makes a good bargain.

"Now, I understand that this is a hard adjustment for you," his little grin forced itself into a sad face, "but we're here to make this a smooth, easy transition from savages at the edge of civilization, to the very heart of genetic research in the Ascendancy. I advise you to start thinking of the Chiefs Ascendant as the parents who adopted you. And think of me like your big brother. I will protect you, I will mentor you, and..." Maisie noticed a small, hooked knife in his left hand, toying with his black sleeve. "... should you misbehave, I will punish you severely."

A pudgy young man to Maisie's left gulped. "You're doing indescribably important work, and there will be rewards if you succeed. I'm sure you will all make us proud. You are the Primogenitors."

That word again. She'd made her peace with death when she'd started venturing to the Eastern Wastes past the Rockies; she'd had to make it again when she started stealing from the Ascendancy officials. If her new big brother wanted her to shake and tremble for him, his tiny razor, and his severe punishments, he was going to be sorely disappointed.