Chap. 33 The State of The Sibs

Chap. 33 The State of The Sibs

The fastest way back to Jeon, specifically Harban, and even more specifically, the Sibs, was complicated. There were no airfields near Chil Perdermo. There was, however, a brilliant international airport two hours down the road in Okepuela. Okepuela being the beach paradise that Sergeant Murthey had promised Truth and where the party bus was headed. However, Truth was not prepared to wait two hours to make it to the city. He certainly wasn’t prepared to spend two hours watching other people get drunk and party while he was stressed. Not to mention the lingering migraine or his half-shot spell slots still burning from overuse. The debut release of this chapter happened at Ñòv€l-B1n.

No, that did not appeal. Nor did acquiring some manner of high-speed vehicle and driving to the city by himself, presumably at dangerous speeds. Truth had already enjoyed one chewing out over poor life choices tonight and didn’t feel up for a second. He stewed for a minute longer, then grinned. When you’re sick, there is a very special place you should go.

“You want an ambulance?” The translator enunciated.

“I want an air ambulance. I know this hospital has one.” Truth nodded.

“Sir... it is an air ambulance. An air AMBULANCE. It is not a taxi, no matter how much you want to get to Okepuela. I can promise you. They won’t run out of cold beer or hot girls. Or boys, or whatever you enjoy. But Chil Perdermo has only one air ambulance.”

“Here is my medical report showing extensive damage to my spell apertures. I need emergency treatment in my home country and an air ambulance directly to Okepuela International.” Truth thought he sounded very reasonable, but the looks he was getting suggested he was the only one who thought that.

“Sir, leaving aside the total unreasonableness of your demand, the cost alone-”

Truth had a moment of realization and fished around in his pocket for his lapel pin. At this point, OpSec was no longer a factor. He pinned it to his BDU blouse and watched it ping the hospital’s spells.

The administrator looked down at his tablet and showed it to the harried translator. Who turned to Truth and asked, “Do you have any luggage?”

The flight to Okepuela took twenty minutes. It helped when you could just fly in a straight line over the mountains. Truth was fidgety. Firstly, because he was in a great deal of pain. The potion took the edge off, but it only did so much. Secondly, because he was worried about the sibs. And thirdly-

“I don’t even know how many people I killed today. Certainly double digits. That’s mass murderer numbers. That’s messed up. And, OK, they were outlaws and slavers and fucking body huskers, but still. I don’t think you could really call that self-defense. I got paid to go and kill. I am a murderer for hire. That’s messed up. And I’m... actually ok with it. That’s even more messed up.”

The international airport was another case of frustration. Apparently, and what enormous quantities of horseshit was this, “It was late at night,” and therefore, “There are no flights to Jeon.” Then, adding supreme insult to existing injury, “We can put you on a flight to Meztean, where you would have a four-hour layover, then make two more connections before landing in Harban.” Truth looked at a map. Meztean was five hours in the wrong direction. Fuck that. He went over to the cargo terminal.

“Uh, Sir? You can’t be here. I’m going to have to call security and escort you out if you don’t get out now.”

“I found the one guy who speaks Jeongo, and he’s blind. Hey buddy, do me a favor, pull out your company ID, then check my lapel pin.”

The cargo handler’s eyes went wide. “No need for that, Sir! How may I be of assistance?”

“This bird headed for Harban?”

“Yessir, already loaded and will be flying out in an hour.”

“Great, you are taking one passenger.” Truth growled.

“Sir, it’s not that I don’t want to, but the bird has no seats except for the pilot’s seat. It would be a safety violation to even let you on board.”

Truth looked hard at the guy. Then shifted his thinking. “You look like a man stuck at level one, am I right?”

“Er, yessir.”

“Kids?”

“Two, Sir.” The cargo handler asked slowly.

“Ah, that’s great. You know, I have the damnedest feeling that you have a message hitting your tablet....”

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE. Gentle Spring Potion will be delivered to F-6-L Logistics Specialist Renaldo Gestreq at his home address.

“Yep.” Truth nodded.

“The second reason is... a lot more dumb.”

Vigor nodded awkwardly. “It’s not just Soph, by the way. Harmony and I are kind of in the same boat.”

“Harmony? He should be cramming for his SAT and packing his shit for Basic. What’s he got to do with any of this? And where is he, by the way?”

“Staying in a hotel for a few days before the test. He wants to be hyper-focused on the day.” Vigor volunteered.

“Not really relevant.” Sophia cut in. “Look. None of us are exactly gorgeous, but we are all in top physical shape, and we have that bad boy, or in my case, bad girl, vibe. We get dates. Including some with people who other people might mistakenly believe belong to them. And, you know, none of us are virgins, so it can make certain other people look doubly bad.”

“Wait. You stole their boyfriends? All of them?!”

“Two of them. And not at the same time.” Sophie said defensively.

“I, uh, kind of got a third. And I don’t think she told anyone, but I also fucked Vie Manrisonne, but it was a one-time deal. She might be overcompensating to hide it.” Vigor added.

“Prager’s yellow teeth! That is some prime high school drama right there.” Truth paused for a moment as his brain caught up with his ears. “Wait. None of you are virgins?”

Sophie and Vigor exchanged puzzled looks. “Yeah? You punched your V card even earlier than we did.” Sophie shrugged. “You were, what, thirteen? I thought it was kind of fitting- you started your body count the same year you started your, you know, body count.”

Truth buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“So. Vice-Principal Hollenzoutien. It sounds like there has been a terrible misunderstanding.” Truth wore his cleanest BDUs. He even shaved. The Vice-Principal, in his shitty suit, looked unimpressed.

“I don’t think so, Mr. Medici. I don’t think the disciplinary committee will either.”

“Oh, you will be withdrawing that complaint, cleaning my siblings' records, and adding a note to their file about what brilliant little angels they are.” Truth smiled like a wolf.

“I can assure you, Mr. Medici, that your rank in Starbrite will earn you nothing here. So I don’t know where you are getting this confidence from.” The VP kept a calm tone but narrowed his eyes. In a place as ruthlessly hierarchical as Starbrite, people reaching down from on high to interfere was simply an expected inconvenience, like the rain.

“Because I asked my boss what to do in this situation. And she is C-2-U.” The VP controlled a flinch. Truth being a nineteen-year-old C-9-U made him a good-sized fish in their little pond. C-2-U was a whale in a fishbowl. “She said she was happy to add what moral persuasion she could, by the way. Thinks the whole situation stinks.”

“That is... worth considering to be sure, but this was an incident involving numerous students and physical injury. We cannot simply...”

Truth slid a little chit of purple stone across the table. It had cost him exactly fifteen thousand credits, and he didn’t regret spending a single one of them. Not with the Sibs' permanent records in danger. Carved into the amethyst was the Starbrite logo, plated in silver.

“She suggested I buy one of these. I always wondered how the rich pricks got away with things. Guess now I know.”

He smiled, the pleasure of the moment overwhelming the burnout pain.

“You know, my oath would have kept me from hunting down their bullies. And their families. And the people who enabled this shit and their families. Completely against Starbrite policy. But now I know I can just spend some credits, and it’s ok. Against the law, but I’ve never given a shit about that. On the other hand, I do love my credits. What do you think, Vice-Principal Hollenzoutien? Am I going to be putting in overtime?”

Below the logo, red dye filled disturbing etchings. The etchings were so twisted and gnarled that they made your eyes water if you looked at them for too long. The Vice Principal didn’t even bother to check its legitimacy.

“A Writ of Absolution and Indulgence.” The VP’s voice was dry as dust. “We are going up in the world. Goodbye, Mr. Medici. I suspect we will never have to speak again.”

“Goodby, Vice-Principal Hollenzoutien. We had better not.”