The Omega Device (The Ha-Shan Chronicles Book 1) (25 page)

More importantly, it might specifically reference the weapon and its location. The Reverberant had to have known this, and sent them to it. Now only a translation could tell them for certain.

The book also defied something Russell had yet to admit aloud; his skepticism. As a person who sought physical proof before drawing conclusions, the idea of the Ha-Shan's existence had remained a work of fiction thus far.

This book changed that. Indeed, it cemented at least their existence in his mind. While he required further evidence for some things, he was by no means stubborn. The book's obvious age, in conjunction with the time-line of events relayed, swayed him.

“Amazing,” he breathed. “But if their language is so old, I seriously doubt we could ever read it.”

Maggie spun the ring in her lip, thinking. She passed the book over, “Hold on to it.”

She pulled the others down and carried them to a desk, flipped them open beside one another. She examined the pages closely with a puzzled look.

“They're all the same,” she said with a hint of disappointment

The words repeated in Russell's head, “Different versions?”

“Repeated again and again, but—” Maggie stopped mid-sentence, examined two passages closely. “I can't read them exactly, but
this
phrase differs between the two.”

He hoped to compel her forward, “So it's
not
word for word?”

“No. I can't
read
them, but I can tell. Here's another.” She hesitated and it hit her. “Each one's in different handwriting! This one seems to build off the last's thoughts. I recognize some words, but not enough of them.”

“Build off? For what purpose? To translate the first book?”

She shrugged, “Maybe. But with enough years between the first and latter versions, the ancient language may've become indecipherable. Which means someone in the Protectorate may've begun rewriting what they could translate and guessing at the missing sections.”

“So either the Reverberant or the Keepers,” he guessed. “And since then they've refining their thoughts?”

“Possibly.” She considered the knowledge before her. “We need to take them all.”

“Why?”

She glanced at him critically, “Why else would the Reverberant send us here? We were meant to find these books. Of everything else here, what looks important?”

Russell glanced around; however interesting the library was, the stack of Protectorate volumes were its real prize. He nodded, removed the duffel bag from his back, “Alright.” They arranged the books inside with care and Russell zipped it closed, left it on the floor. He pulled a chair from a desk to sit. “Now, what do we do with them?”

Maggie positioned a chair in front of him, mentally exhausted. She shook her head, “We still have no idea where to start looking. The weapon could be anywhere.”

Russell shared her defeat. With the Reverberant and Keepers dead, the only answers lay in volumes the two could never decipher alone.

He admitted his lack of direction with overtones of despair, “We don't have the resources. There's no way we'll find it alone.”

Maggie agreed. Even if Omega didn't catch them first, the Reverberant's death solidified their inability to decipher the language. Moreover, the inevitable chaos within the Protectorate now made any hope of future aid a lost cause.

She was once more struck by what she'd said about the Protectorate's death, and found herself wondering whether they'd truly led Omega to the temple, or if the slaughter was inevitable regardless. The point seemed moot, but an idea arose; radical and outrageous even in her own mind. It had to be presented.

She looked to Russell. His skepticism foiled her gleam.

“No Russell,
we
don't have the resources, but I know who does.”
 

“You're not suggesting—”

Maggie threw her hands up, recognizing their desperation, “We're at a dead end. What do we have to lose at this point?”

He went dark, “Our
lives!
Maggie, we
can't
risk it.”

“We just need to convince them helping us is worth the cost of letting us live.”

“We've been running from them this whole time, and now you want to
work
with
them?
Have you lost fucking your mind?”
 

She waved him off, “We want to find the weapon. So do they. We have information they need, and they're willing to do
anything
to get it. We're in the
perfect
bargaining position—”

“We're in the perfect position to be ambushed!”

“Russell, we're low on food and running out of water, but we
have what they need.
The Reverberant's dead and the Protectorate's gone, and we have no loyalties either way. We've only been running because they've been chasing us. At this point,
we're
their only hope of credible information.”

He growled frustration against her logic, “You can't seriously expect this to work.”

She scoffed, “Don't be dramatic.”

His voice sharpened cynically, “Maggie, by
any sense of the definition
, this is a
bad idea.
If they don't deal, they're going to hit us twice as hard to get what we have instead.”

“Then we don't let them know everything all at once.”

“Then why
would
they deal?”

“I don't know!” She yelled, frustrated. She tried to calm herself, pled with him, “Give me another option Russell. We're in the middle of
fucking Tibet
without a clue or a pot to piss in. If we're lucky, we'll last the week or more it'll take to reach civilization. Otherwise, we'll be murdered in some god-forsaken patch of woods trying to find another solution and starving to death.”

She huffed, rubbed her temples again, head throbbing from rising blood pressure. He watched, thinking how dangerous a situation either path presented. He wasn't entirely persuaded to her plan, but wasn't sure he ever could be.

He spoke with a silent admission of defeat, “You're insane, Maggie… but, I guess that doesn't make you wrong.”

She stood to pace in thought, “We need to play this right. We'll have to be near them for a while, but getting through the door alive's going to be hardest. We just need a way to guarantee our safety.”

“How 'bout a hand grenade?”

Maggie suddenly lit up, headed for the tunnel, “C'mon, if we hurry we might still be in range.”

Russell followed with apprehension, considering the impulsiveness of the decision. He thought of the infinite ways things might go wrong, the million more ways it was sure to, but climbed the ladder through the broken trap door. Maggie stepped from the hut into the afternoon, fiddled with her radio.

She looked to Russell with a deep breath and pressed the Lash at her throat, “This is runners to Omega strike-force: If you're listening, we have a proposition for you.”

Maggie released the Lash. There was a crackle of static as she wondered whether she'd spoken in vain.

A long silence passed, then static hissed over a sneering reply, “Tell me why I care.”

Maggie stilled a rush within her, “We know what you're looking for. We suggest a trade.”

Silence. Then, West responded, “What could you possibly hope to trade?”

She put a hand to a hip, “Information, and a possible means of locating the weapon.”

Reese shouted, “Why not just kill you and take it?”

“How's that worked out so far?”

“You bitch! I'll have your head mounted on my fucking—”

A heavy thud interrupted her tirade.

“You want the weapon? You need us.
Alive
. You want to risk killing us, it's your asses.”

There was an audible scuffle, but West replied, “What do you want?”

She watched Russell turn away, “Safe passage. In exchange, we help find and decipher the device.”

“Why?”

She spoke now with confidence, “You've been chasing us for nothing. Whatever you think we took in Oakton died with the Protectorate agents. We're only trying to survive. You've already gotten everything else you wanted. The fight at the temple killed the last of the Protectorate that could help. We're your only hope now. You want to find the weapon. We want you off our backs. You honor the deal and our goals are aligned… for now.”

“So, don't kill you,” West replied smugly. “That all?”

“You and your people remain unarmed,” Maggie damned with finality.

There was a tense silence on the other end. West replied with an obvious malice, but Maggie sensed his helplessness against Omega's running directive.

“When do we begin?”

“I'll contact you in twelve hours with a rendezvous. If you're armed when you arrive, the deal is off. Understood?” She glanced at Russell; he eyed her uneasily.

“Copy,” West bit. “Re-establish contact at oh-two-thirty. Out.”

Maggie turned off the radio and headed back into the hut. Russell's eyes lingered on the village a moment longer.

“
This
is mental.”

22.

Tension

October 6
th
 

2:15 AM

Protectorate Store House

Maggie sat at the old console while Russell paced before the cots. For the last twelve hours they'd restlessly awaited the coming communication. Their tension left little room for sleep or conversation. They'd managed to stomach the last of their MREs, then wiled away their time examining the library for anything else of use. Eventually, they settled into their present places, neither wishing to speak their obvious thoughts.

When Russell finally did, he ridiculed Maggie's decision until an argument forced the same end as before. Now he paced, hoping to justify their approach. With no other options, the argument inevitably resurfaced.

He stopped at the nearest cot, “Have I mentioned just how
bad
an idea this is?”
 

“Yes, repeatedly,” she groaned. “And I'm
still
not hearing alternatives.”

He exhaled a hot breath, “What about She-La?”

“We've been over this. As far as we know she's in Oakton—where she's needed and
said
she'd be. Otherwise, she's dead. Either way, she
can't
help us.”

Russell threw up his hands, “You expect to just walk up to them with what they want and they'll play nice?”

Maggie leaned a tired elbow on her chair, propped up her head, “Again, Russell, we have
no
options. We're choice-less—unless we want to
die
trying to figure out what to do next.”

“Maggie, we've been running from them since
before
we left Oakton. At every turn they've found us. Each time, they've adhered to a strict “shoot-first” policy. Now you want to step in front of their cross-hairs willingly? This is rash. You need to call it off!”

She was determined, “No. We're done running. I made it clear, if they're armed, the deal's off and—”

“And it's the
perfect
time to kill us.”

Maggie was tired of running, even more tired of his sudden cynicism. She snapped, “Russell, goddamn it, you want to end this as much as I do! If we can use them to our advantage for even a moment we'll be through with it.”

He tried to calm his rising anger. The best he could do was clench his jaw and speak through his teeth, “I agree their resources would be helpful, but what about
after
we translate the books? Do you really think we'll be able to waltz up to the device with Omega in tow, and make sure it stays off? These people have been waging war for
thousands of years
over this thing. How can you be convinced we'll come out alive?”

Maggie huffed; he had a point, but it didn't change her mind. Omega would likely attempt something, but not until after they were certain they had what they wanted. Until then, they would keep the two alive, if only to learn all they knew.

“We'll deal with that when we come to it. Isn't that what you've been saying? Deal with each situation as it comes? That we're choice-less as to whether they will happen?”

He sighed, “It doesn't—”

She sprang up, kicked back her chair with clenched fists, dual accents in full-effect, “Goddamn it, Russell, what d'you want from me? I've given you every opportunity to come up with an alternative and you've spent it clamming-up and stating the obvious. If you can think of something better in the next minute 'n a half, say so.”

She stared, eyes ablaze and nostrils flaring. He stared back, the pair locked in a mental stalemate. He didn't disagree about their lack of options, but …

His train of thought ended there. However dangerous, Maggie was right; they could risk death running on no food and low water, or risk death hoping Omega proved useful. Anything else would have to be taken as it came.

He did his best to reply calmly but it came out less than stellar, “Fine Maggie, we'll do it your way. But “I told you so” may not be possible if this turns into the cluster-fuck it's looking to.”

Her fists remained clenched a moment, either from fury or sheer terror; neither was certain. She eased her fingers loose, then stretched her hands. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes.” He rose, stepped to her. “They meet us in the village-center at sunrise. I'll be patrolling the perimeter making sure they don't place any forces in the area.”

“And?”

“And…” He hesitated, despising the next part the most. “I'll watch from the field and wait for them to make contact and—”

Maggie eyes softened, “You'll signal me on the radio when they're in sight, then close in.”

“It should be me they're meeting.”

She lifted his hand, kissed the back of it, “We both know this is the only way it'll work. I'll never be able to stay hidden, but you know how to. We need that if something goes wrong.”

“Maggie, I—”

“Russell.” She slid her arms around his waist. “I trust you. Do what you're trained to and we'll be fine.”

She laid her head against his chest and he rested his atop hers.