0.1.14

Blindfolded and utterly exhausted, Kaiya and her friends waited to hear their fate. The heavily modded truck was loud as shit and ran like hell over the barren red landscape. The truck had sand tires on, with smooth folds to grip. They kicked up sand in harsh torrents as it flew over the dunes. The caravan stopped a few times along the way. They heard men loading more cargo into the truck, squeezing them closer together after each stop as the truck filled up. At night, they’d be allowed to take their blindfolds off inside a tent, and were not allowed to leave. They ate, slept, ate again. The days blended together and they could remember nothing but the wind in their hair, the sand against their face coverings, and the obnoxious sound of an engine struggling over harsh terrain. By the end of the journey, they could feel the cool winds picking up. Refreshing despite the circumstances. They heard voices as they felt the ground shift from sand to something more solid. They crawled over a high bump at what sounded like a checkpoint. Their head covers were removed and they were roughly taken to a holding cell. This Hybrid colony had sentries posted on each egress and could see anything coming for miles from the top of their knoll. They saw the landing strip the planes had used to land and trade. They had the largest fleet of functional trucks Kaiya had ever seen running at one time. The colony itself was little more than a few scattered scrap metal buildings, covered with tin roofs placed oddly around modern habitation pods. The pods looked like they were from a different planet compared to the spartan buildings. It protected them from most of the sand storms but looked worn from being perpetually bombarded in the wind. Nearly everyone was a hybrid of some kind. Even those that first appeared unmodded would turn, only to reveal a device attached to their neck, or a transparent muscle. They were all heavily armed. The grunts loading and unloading the trucks looked like they were built just for that purpose and did so with their mechanised appendages much more efficiently than any human could. Inside the one of the tin roofed metal buildings was a small holding cell. The kids were roughly tossed inside, along with a hybrid who looked too drunk to know his own name.

“Soraiya found you then, she doesn’t miss much, does she?” the drunken laborer told them, his exoskeleton shaking haphazardly as if malfunctioning.

“Yeah, you never seen anything like me have you, you little Imperialists never strayed outside the comfort of your little section of the city,” he mumbled mostly to himself. The group looked around their metal cage. It was sturdy, with thick weld marks along all the bars. They heard the sand pinging the metal side of the building and the wind whistling through holes. Their cell was covered in a fine film of dust.

“Not another jail,” Petr lamented, his eyes bloodshot.

“We found a way out of the other,” Shim said evenly, “we’ll find a way out of this one too,”

Well into the evening, Soraiya stepped into the little room where rows of cells just like theirs lined the side of the room, she smelled of some kind of liquor. A similar smell emanated from their cell mate.

“I’m Soraiya, leader of the King Sen colony.” She eyed them, and could tell this meant nothing to them. “How is it that you came here? You’re not Sikkas as far as I can tell. I don’t take you for Imperialists either.”

“We’re from the Y.” Arryn said, taking control of speaking for the group.

“That’s a long ways away.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’d prefer you keep it short.” Soraiya looked at them with her one human eye, and her modded eye that looked like blue glass. It was locked to her head with a metal interface that strapped vertically over her eye and attached to the back of their head. They’d all heard stories of the Hybrids, they were the subjects of nightmare inducing stories for children. The Hybrid’s default course of action in confrontations with unknowns was to kill them. If they’d dressed like Sikkas, they’d probably be dead. If they were Hybrids, they’d likely be dead too, unless they were bolstering their roster for specific types of Hybrids. They called it recruiting. Each of them had a different intention, a different function they were going to serve if their mod worked, or eventually when the mod was repaired. Properly modded Hybrids could lift heavier, shoot straighter, or run farther depending on the mod. The Sikkas also experimented with a myriad of functional services that only a human could do.

“Our village was attacked by the Sikkas, and we fled.”

“So there may be a price on your heads?” Soraiya nodded to the hybrid next to her that wore some kind of insignia resembling a military rank.

“It’s doubtful.”

Kaiya sat up in her cell, her hand still throbbing.

“My father is Eros, I believe he once traded with you.” Soraiya looked at Kaiya and tilted her head slightly.

“I haven’t spoken to him in many years, he is alive I presume?”

“He is, or was when we left the Y.”

“Then you didn’t flee, you were taken. Nobody would willingly leave a controller behind on an adventure like this.”

“Yes.”

“And you escaped?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have his skill?”

“Some, I’ve been working with him since I could handle a wrench.”

“Then you will serve a better purpose outside of this cell, I’d imagine.”

She creaked open the rusted door and held it open a moment. They gazed at her eye unsure as to whether this was a trap or some kind of ruse.

“I assure you, if we wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.” With the comfort of an open wound they slid past her out of the cell, leaving the drunkard in the tank. She stared at Kaiya longer than the others, turning her head slightly as she passed. They passed cell after cell with hybrids who were in various states of sobriety. It seemed alcoholism plagued them. Soraiya nodded to a colleague who led them outside into the cold air and cloudless night, exposed to the sand filled winds and earning speckled red welts as they went. They were led to a metal structure covered with thick canvas. It looked like a temporary construction project that had worked a little too well and so was never upgraded nor was it torn down. Their docent brushed open the folded entrance and ducked inside. He nodded to stacked bunks, which Arryn mistook for another pile of scrap metal. They were handcrafted bunks with thick welding lines from different scraps they had lying around and couldn’t sell. Some parts were square, other parts were circular. The mattresses were thin, but everyone was grateful to have some kind of proper sleeping situation for the night. He didn’t speak. Perhaps he couldn’t. When the last of the group was inside, he left.

“Who is Eros, Kaiya, and why does the leader of a hybrid colony know him?” Petr shuffled around the tent, putting his hands on the mattresses to see which one was the softest.

“He hasn’t told me everything, but I picked up on bits and pieces. It’s how he made a living in Imperial City, and how he made a living after he was forbidden to go back.”

“But what exactly does he do?”

“Same thing he does for the Y,” Petr looked at her without recognition.

“Weapons, Petr, he makes weapons. Much like he does for the Y, only it was for the Sikkas.”

“Your dad made weapons for the Sikkas?” Ayala asked incredulously.

“He did,” Kaiya didn’t shy away from the accusation in her tone. She had been so long in knowing that she forgot how treasonous it may sound to someone who didn’t know.

Some of the group had known this, particularly Arryn, and thus Ayala. Arryn and

Kaiya had seen a lot of each other when they were younger. Eros’ primary income stream initially was from the work he did for the Y. Wellington would give him a list of desperately needed supplies and weapons for their local militia. Eros went one by one down the list and did what he could to source it, repair it, or make it. Arryn remembered his father telling him how Eros had come to the Y on a ship with Kaiya in his arms and a small boat full of specialized tools it would take two lifetimes to compile, and of course how he punched one of their officers and knocked him off the boat. He smiled to himself.

A Hybrid slapped the canvas door aside and entered, asking for Kaiya. She looked around at her friends who were more than a little concerned. She went with the man. He had one bionic arm, and he led her out to a quiet section of the colony base. Soraiya sat on the back of the truck alone. She dismissed Kaiya’s escort and they stood alone looking over the desert as the stars sparkled. Kaiya stood facing her, and Soraiya motioned for her to hop on the truck.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Soraiya asked, not looking at Kaiya.

“It is.”

“We need to cherish these small gifts. There is too much death, and savagery these days, cherish this moment. And much more to come.”

Kaiya said nothing as she dutifully gazed across the desert.

“Your skills girl, how good are you?”

“I was helpful in the lab, and know my way around the most common mods.”

Soraiya nodded at this and seemed pleased. Kaiya adjusted herself and brushed her bangs out of her eyes with her hand. Her palm flashed with the symbol.

“There’s something brewing with the Sikkas, I don’t know what they’re planning, but it’s something, and I now believe that something has to do with you, Kaiya. Your hand, it’s uncomfortable here, yes?”

Kaiya’s chest tightened and her breathing became short. How could she have known anything about what really brought them there? They didn’t mention it in the cell. Kaiya had nowhere to escape, and nowhere to run. This burden in her hand had only caused her trouble.

“It’s uncomfortable because her connections here are weak. Kaiya, do you know what that symbol on your hand means?”

“Wrannaman.”

“Much more than that, Kaiya, the Wrannamen have been waiting for someone like you since the Awakening.”

“What do you mean, that was thousands of years ago.”

“It took thousands of years for someone with your exact DNA to be born.”

“What does my DNA have to do with it?”

“You can talk to Wran, Kaiya, in fact, you’re the only one on this planet that can talk to her directly without some intermediary device. I didn’t know something like this was possible. In theory, sure, a network device can be connected to a person’s body and transmit and receive data. But a direct line into your mind… that is unique.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but it explains the Sikka’s movements lately. They know what you are too, and we can’t let them get you.”

“We?”

“I’m also a Wrannaman, just like your father.”

Soraiya looked at Kaiya and bowed, Kaiya, unsure how to respond, just smiled awkwardly and nodded back.

“Then why would you trade with the Sikkas?”

“We had to make a life for ourselves when our tribal ancestors first got dumped into this place. Each of us is from a different family, but here we are just one family. We were born into bondage, and disposed of like trash, yet some of us survive, and so we make a life for ourselves here. Your father is guilty of making a living from them too.”

“And the Sikkas don’t kill you?”

“They would if they knew where our allegiance was, but they get new raw materials from us, so in a way they need us. Of course they could do it themselves but it’s dirty and dangerous work.”

“Can I talk to the Sikkas machine too?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think anyone knows. The Sikkas want to find out though, and they’ll do anything to get their hands on you.”

“So there is a war coming.”

“Yes.”

“And a lot of people will die.”

“Yes.”

“And it will be because of me, because of what I can do, or am supposed to be able to do.”

“Yes. Kaiya, this fight that’s coming. It’s the most important fight we’ve ever had as a species. The last outcome during the Awakening threw humanity down the wrong fork of history. We have an opportunity to right that path. What happens between you and the Sikkas will solidify the fate for this entire region, perhaps the world, or what’s left of it. If the Sikkas capture you, and kill you or use you for their own ends, the Wrannamen are defeated. There may never be another one of you,” terror flashed in Kaiya’s eyes, “If nobody has made it clear, you will not be alone. The entire force of the Wrannamen is behind you. All those who have suffered will join you. And, of course, my colony is at your disposal. In a way, this is what the King Sen colony exists for. Sure we wage territory wars with other colonies, but we’ve always been a Wrannaman colony, since we were first named. We will fight with you, fight for you. I believe the time to overthrow the Sikkas has come. Previous leaders and I have remained loyal for many generations, though the same cannot be said for the leaders of all the other hybrid colonies. We’ll need the help of the other colonies to win.”

Soraiya nodded to Kaiya and stood, “I will get word to the other leaders and present you to them, it will be a start. I must warn you, Kaiya, some said this day would never come, and generations have grown up believing the tales of Wrannaman are only a myth.”

She left Kaiya alone on the truck. Her head was swimming with questions. She was angry at Eros, because she now knew more of what he hadn’t told her. She accused him in her head, and accosted him for what else he had not told her. She calmed herself by listening to the wind, pulling her coat up around her to stave off the chill. The sound of the sand smacking the side of the truck was comforting. It almost sounded like waves. Slowly she meandered back to their assigned facility. Her friends were all still awake, ready to make a run for it if need be. Arryn looked as if he’d been pacing the whole time he was with Soraiya. It warmed her to see the care in their eyes. She relayed parts of what Soraiya had said to her.

“Kaiya, you’re a Wrannaman, you are the stuff of legends!” Brig cheered.

“But she’s also the most wanted person in the world right now.” Arryn sobered the group.

“Whatever the case, we’re going to meet with the other colony leaders.” Kaiya said.

“We’ll be with you the whole way,” Shim meant it.

Dawn came. They were awoken by an odd looking hybrid that appeared to have been modded for hospitality purposes. Her gears and winches were optimized for folding, and the trays she held were stabilized on a gimbal such that it would be very difficult to spill them. It was misogyny encoded in hardware and software. She shooed them out of bed and left some food and a bitter tea on the table. They scarfed it down given the meals they skipped on the journey thus far. They were then led back to the rows of trucks, where a flurry of hybrids were loading gear in, refueling the vehicles and preparing them for another day in the sand. The efficiency with which they worked was like looking at the inside of a clock. There was such a variety of hybrids that they each stuck to the tasks they were optimized for. Oddly, the way the colony was run wasn’t that far off from what the Sikkas had envisioned. Worst of all, it was working. It brought mixed feelings to Kaiya as she watched the scene. Petr too seemed to be noticing and feeling the same thing.

“This is the most fucked up and beautiful scene I’ve ever witnessed. They’re like ants, but still people. Their humanity was damaged, but they gained abilities no human could have without modding. I’m despondent, but more than a little impressed,” Petr mused out loud.

Shim picked the argument up, “I’d feel better about it if any of them chose this. If they’d been given agency, and had thus found a good job because of it, then that might be something morally dubious, but more palatable. They didn’t have a choice, though.”

The words made Kaiya introspective. In a sense, she didn’t choose this either. Though she wasn’t modded in the same way as them, she too had a capability endowed by an outside force that gave her abilities she otherwise would not have acquired. Do I have agency anymore? She was forced into becoming a Wrannaman.

They loaded up the sand trucks, with extra gas for the long journey. Generally the hybrid colonies don’t play well together. If you were found on someone else’s territory looking for scraps, it was grounds for execution, no questions asked. The squad of trucks carried the meanest the King Sen colony had to offer. There were strong men and women, whose bionic arms had the strength of ten people. Some only had one functioning arm, but most had been repaired here in the colony to get both arms working. The one-of-a-kind arms each had a specialty that the Sikkas had been experimenting with. When the Sikkas dumped them, new prospects were recruited heavily by each of the colonies, and a sort of courting ritual was put in place. The plane that dumped the bodies did so in the same place each time, a kind of symbiotic relationship between the Sikkas and the Hybrids. The Hybrids provided raw material from the Dunes and the Sikkas traded with them, and increased their ranks when a new batch of experiments failed, and many, many of the experiments failed. The total population of the people in the Dunes was unknown, but it was likely to be more populated or just as populated as Imperial City. Truly, they could perhaps rival the city if only they could unite against a common enemy, or for a common cause. It had been tried many times, and had failed in a myriad of ways. Many hybrid lives had been lost in the name of unity over the millenia. Every so often a leader would come along and try to unite the colonies, or take them over. Many had tried, and each time a great war broke out, providing even more raw material to sell back to the Sikkas. It was a brutal way of life. To strip a dead hybrid of their gear to turn it into something else. Everyone did it though, and they sought to bury their own whenever they came across a stray dead body. After, of course, they stripped it of value. Of the dozens and dozens of trucks that came and went every day from King Sen, not all of them returned. Though sometimes the reverse would happen where a new vehicle was acquired, or a new group of hybrids defected from another colony.

As they drove out to neutral Dune territory, with eye masks and scarves wrapped around their faces to protect them from the sand and dirt kicked up, they started to see massive dust plumes from other Colonies’ vehicles heading in the same direction. Everyone was tense, a large plume was something to stay away from under almost all circumstances in the Dunes, it meant a large force, armed, and ready to kill whomever stood in their way. They drove for hours and finally settled into a flat, dry lakebed that must have been a massive river at one time. It’s crusty surface couldn’t have been more foreign to the coastal natives who had never known anything but lush, tropical forests as far as the eye could see. King Sen’s vehicles came together to form a V shape with Soraiya and Kaiya in the lead vehicle. Each colony did the same, and soon there were dozens of lead vehicles all quite close to each other with their force behind them. Eventually, an odd kind of circle formed in the center of the group such that the lead vehicles containing the leaders could see and speak to each other without amplification.

Everyone came armed, and observing the colonies from the center of the circle they now made was daunting indeed. The hybrids were very unique, you could see the scientific method being played out by the generations of attempts and failures to improve specific parts of the body. Arms and legs were common, and a clear trend to attempt human flight via modified wings looked like it had failed many times. Though, looking up, Kaiya could see a few that did work, and they swooped overhead, their free arms holding weapons of their own.

They did not wait long for the other leaders to arrive. Those that were going to come were already there or their large plumes were near. Soraiya stood on the hood of their modded armored truck with a loudspeaker. The colony vehicles farther back adjusted their dusty radios to tune in to the broadcast.

“Leaders, I have called this meeting today to tell you of a historical event taking place as we speak. They will tell of this day in the history we make together as we either decide to unite or divide our common people against a common enemy. We’ve fought each other and anyone else who threatened us across our Dunes, but today I call for a truce.”

The other leaders looked at her inquisitive, obviously intrigued. Their followers however yelled dissent and viscous threats. Some even firing weapons into the air.

“A truce, bah, Soraiya, there will never be unity here,” one of the other colony leaders yelled. A booming of voices erupted from the hybrid colony behind him indicating their support of his opinion. Others joined in and then the wave caught on in the other colonies, and soon the whole spectacle erupted with hoots and the pinging metal parts. The sound was deafening as all the noise was directed towards the center.

“A truce in the name of Wran.”

The riot quieted down immediately, and it was dead silent save for the engines of a few vehicles. Soraiya choked up a little at the sudden silence, her stoic veneer collapsed for a brief moment. Only Kaiya could see it as she stood up next to her.

“A girl has been born, one who can speak to Wran.” Whispers erupted as some re-acquainted themselves with old legends and yet others had to ask their peers what the hell a Wran was. It had been a long time since many of them had heard such stories, and even more who had never heard the name before except in children’s fairy tales and ancient texts. A smaller group in each colony were devout believers, and preached the tales to others as if it were a religion. And in a way it had become a religion, though their god was a sentient machine, badly damaged, but once sentient all the same. These believers stood on their vehicles at the mention of the name and made the triangle symbol with their hand. They were few in number though. Soriaya was heartened but needed the rest of them to believe.

“The Sikkas will do anything to capture her, so they can continue their empire of subjugation and slavery. We have a moment before us to reclaim ourselves as sovereign people and end their reign of terror.”

Another shout from a leader was heard, “I will hear none of this, it’s treason, we stand with our providers, the Sikka, who have taken care of us and provide us our way of life.” Several colony leaders nodded as the hybrid called on his colony to back away and leave the circle. Several more did this, and after a brief deliberation, they signalled to turn their vehicles on and backed away from the group. In a few minutes they were gone, kicking up dust everywhere, making it difficult to see. Soraiya waited for the dust to settle, and when it did she was shocked to find only a handful of leaders who had stayed.

The leaders stepped off their trucks and approached Soraiya, they surrounded the front of their truck and they all took a knee, looking at Kaiya. Kaiya looked right back at them, still unsure of her place in the world, let alone her role in the fight to come. Soriaya stepped off the truck and turned to face Kaiya, and knelt.

As the leaders knelt, so too did all the colony hybrids behind their elders. They stepped out of their trucks, and onto the ground. Her friends were as shocked as she was. and They too got out of the truck and onto one knee. As far as the eye could see Kaiya saw the thousands and thousands of hybrids kneeling for her. She straightened her posture, and held up the Wrannaman symbol with their hands, and a deafening roar echoed across the dry lakebed. Her hand throbbed as she held her hands up and her eyes slowly rolled into the back of her head. She heard a whisper in the wind, Kaiya.