No Guardian, I

Part 2

The Traveler was a bright orange spot low over the horizon. Jas squinted at it, trying to rub the dust out of his eyes.

Sleeping in the sand-plain was not such a good idea after all. But he was so exhausted after a frantic nine-hour ride that he never even considered the consequences of simply dropping the sleeping bag down onto the chilly sand, crawling inside and passing out.

Well, now his Sparrow was half-buried in windblown grit and ice particles, and he had to dig himself out of his very own barchan. He also suddenly realised he forgot to pack water. Somehow, he figured he'd find a natural source and the filter would do the rest. He didn't account for the simple fact that there is little water in the desert even in winter.

He took out his communicator and opened the mapping application. It dutifully showed his progress from the city in a bold red line leading, at first, east and then curving to the south of the City, ending at his supposed location almost six hundred kilometers away. It was also the middle of the cold, early spring wasteland.

Jas knew these pre-Collapse maps were likely inaccurate by now, but they were the best he could access short of trying to hack or bribe his way into the Tower archives. He doubted he would have succeeded, anyway.

He managed to get his vehicle from under the sand in less than half an hour. The next two and a half hours have been spent blowing out dust from the exposed engine. Jas felt very dizzy, but reasonably happy by the time he finished cleaning the Sparrow. As a reward, he allowed himself two nutrient packs, savoring the moisture of the tasteless paste.

He was down to seventy-four.

He rode through the day, following a new course - east and a bit to the south. By his reckoning, he should sooner or later hit an ancient highway that crossed the desert and connected the northern metropolises of Old Russia to the South Aral Academia. Hopefully, it would still be above the sand.

Tan windswept hills rolled past, lulling him into a weird state where he perceived every little detail while paying attention to nothing in particular. The desert seemed primordial, unchanged since the days of a long-lost past when the direst threat to a human was the simple darkness of nightfall and the claws and teeth of earth-born predators, easily fended off by a warm fire and cunningly-crafted weapons. To think of it, nothing really changed.

There was still darkness - capital "D" Darkness that Jas has never personally experienced, but heard about third- or even fifth-hand from people who spoke to people who were chosen to visit a Tower and share a drink with the Guardians dwelling there. There was still fire - or, rather, Light - that kept the dark at bay. There were predators - Fallen and worse, infesting the gutted ruins of humanity's wonderful birthplace. There were weapons and those with the cunning to make them.

Jas prided himself on his skills as a weaponsmith. He easily met the quota of production established by his superiors, assembling gun after gun to the admittedly low standards of Daito. He tried to improve on a few designs and showed the results to Gaskon, the plant supervisor. A week later, they made the trip to Daito HQ in Commercia District 5.

Gaskon was positively excited during the long elevator ride, nudging Jas from time to time and promising to give him the right to name the new generation of guns. They were about to meet Lord Abe, the Executive in charge of the Daito R&D department. It was unprecedented.

The memory still burned at Jasker. Lord Abe listened to them, his face set in an expression of contempt. After Jas finished explaining how his changes would save materials and increase the weapons' accuracy and durability, the Exalted Lord Abe Makoto rose from his woven spinmetal chair, clasped his hands behind his back and turned away from them, towards the window overlooking the lush greenery of the Traveler Eternal Park.

Gaskon bowed, dragging a bewildered Jasker with him, and they both scurried away from the Executive's office. Later, Gaskon tried to explain some of the fine points of corporate etiquette to Jasker, which he had then promptly forgotten. Rumour held that Gaskon was an Executive's child and was on his way up, from the lowest of low in the enclave's hierarchy, to sit in an Executive's chair sometime in the future. What Jas carried away from the explanation was that the window-turning act was a show of utter outrage and refusal to conduct any further business. The only things that kept Jas on his post were his immaculate record and the strings Gaskon pulled, unwilling to lose a worker of Jas's level.

He has also been sworn to never again tamper with traditional Daito designs.

In his mind, he understood the reasoning behind Lord Abe's decision. His technology was new, unproven. While Daito weapons seldom reached the hands of high-profile Guardians, who spared no expense on the best equipment, his enclave held a niche market aimed at, frankly, the low-end spectrum. It was safer to manufacture the same outdated sniper and scout rifles, with scope mounts bound to stick in the cold and chance of explosive misfires, than to venture and try to compete with giants like Hakke or even the freshly rebranded Suros. He understood that, but never accepted it.

He wanted more. He wanted to be useful. He wanted people to speak his name in the same reverent tones they used when discussing Crux/Lomar's Truth or Omolon's Hard Light prototypes.

The data chip's weight tugged faintly at his neck.

He would get there. Yes, he would. But first, he needed to find that damn highway.

***

+To: Abe Makoto <m.abe@daito.inc>+

+From: Hamsa Gaskon <g.hamsa@daito.inc>+

+Subject: Inheritance+

++Mr. Abe,

We may have pushed him too far. He went missing yesterday, nobody can say where he went. Let's just hope it will advance the cause.

With infinite respect,

Gaskon Hamsa

Today's quote: Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall++