Haven: Book Seven of "The Liminality"

Chapter 32: My Own Squadron

I turn away from Erasmus and Cinda, shaking with revulsion and disappointment. I always feel a little shaky coming back from the Sing, but this time it's way worse thanks to Gaia. Some things just can't be unseen.

Faces crowd around me, some beseeching me in languages I don't understand, some just trying to get a glimpse of me. I am not ready to be with people. I need time to process. But the whole gaggle follows me as I wander back towards the town square. Erasmus and Cinda keep a few steps behind.

I should have known better. I knew that Gaia held a decidedly different and liberated idea of love and relationships. She had brought the subject up several times when we were together, explaining how polyamory made so much more sense in the afterlife where forever meant forever. She warned me about getting too possessive and I had told her at the time that I was cool with whatever she wanted to do, but I suppose my head and my heart aren't always on the same page, especially when the truth and reality of it is shoved in my face.

Now, even more eyes are upon me as I wander back into the glare of the town's public spaces. This is not a time for wallowing in my personal hang-ups. I need to buck up and engage. I abruptly turn to face Cinda.

"So what about this soldier?"

My abruptness startles her.

"He wants your help. They are planning an attack."

I chuckle. "Yeah. Right."

My laugh startles her even more. But what help can I possibly offer? Now that they've brought in the big guns, this place is going down. Any further resistance is futile.

I'm thinking, I owe it to the folks I had just brought here to get them back to some semblance of safety, whether it be Sheol or the new realm. Maybe I should swing by Sheol first to see about Urszula and Grehl, and then work on shuttling some souls over to the new place. That ark sounds like it might be ready to take passengers. It would give me a reason to get in touch with Gaia, if nothing else, to put the kibosh on whatever it was we had going on between us.

As I cross the town square looking for Pinky, this huge, scar-faced Duster fellow with filthy, dangly armor spots me and comes strutting up. About five paces away, he stops and tosses me a scepter. I barely manage to catch it, and it's a fine piece of work, all carved over with ancient symbols from the Deeps. It was the kind of weapon an Old One might favor over the plain sticks that later generations of Dusters liked to carry.

"Summon your mount. You're coming along."

His face is a mess of burns and crudely-stitched slashes. He seems vaguely familiar.

I shrug. "Where?"

"We're taking down another obelisk. This one should go a little easier. We'll have some extra help, I hear."

"Help?"

"From above." He grins. The extra wrinkles generated only exaggerate the grotesquery of his scars.

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

"We've met," says the man, smirking. "You just don't remember." The scars angling across his forehead make it look like his skull has a zipper. It is hard to imagine what kind of injury might have caused it, but it is too grotesque to have been a cosmetic choice, though not having it fixed is itself a style choice. I do have a vague recollection of having seen him before.

"The name is Georghiou. I fought with you in New Axum... and not only that, we crossed over together, from the Deeps."

Now, it all comes back.

"You were there during the siege. The first time the Pennies tried to storm us."

"That's right. I was a new arrival, them. Now, I am a Captain. Third Expeditionary Brigade of the Four. CO by succession. We lost our former commander in the last assault."