Chapter 119 The New Currency
There was a different smell in the Spire.
The air had been smelling of recycles of ozone, stale sweat and fear over years. It was now the odor of yeast and heavy metal.
It was 0600 hours in the Main Plaza. The emergency lights remained dim, and operated along at half power to save the grid, although the darkness was broken by the radiance of the ovens.
The New Citizens led by Silas had transformed the former cafe into a bakery. Smoke--thick and grey and of burnt copper--poured out of the vents. There was a queue of people as long as the blast doors.
I stood up on the balcony of the mezzanine, with a lean on the railing which was cold.
Look at them, Ryker, standing by me, said. He was having an apple--an apple of the old stock of the true article. He gave me a bite, though I shook my head. They do not queue up after gold, Elara. They're lining up for ash."
And down below the trade was going on.
A mechanic of humans came to the counter. His face was greasy and his eyes looked tired. He put up one large, untarnished car battery on the counter.
Silas stood on the other side. The New Citizen did not appear the same as he had done in three days ago. He stood taller. His wrists were adorned with vines, interwoven in such designs. When the Human came up to him he did not flinch.
One battery, said Silas, tapping a ledger. "Fully charged?"
Pulled it in a loader in the sub-basement, the mechanic grunted. "It's good."
Silas waved his head at one of his aides--a woman with the skin of a bark. Into a crate she reached and a loaf she drew out.
It was not any bread I ever had. It was solid grey as a block, and shone dimly within itself with violet light. It steamed in the cold air.
Two loaves, and here you are, Silas, sliding them over the counter. "And a half-ration of water."
The mechanic took the bread as though it were a gold bar. He cut off a piece of it, at once, thrusting it into his mouth. He gnassed, fancied the flavor, and swallowed.
I could see the transformation happen immediately.
The shoulders of the mechanic were straightened. The grey pallor of hunger dissipated out of his cheeks, and a glow of heat came in. His eyes were enlarged, the pupils were dilated. The "Grey Bread" not only sat the stomach but banged on the blood like an aphrodisiac.
"Next," Silas called out.
The power of equilibrium has been changed, I said. Gareth was the contollar of the food since the Unions were the controllers of the lines of supply. The new Citizens are now the masters of the calories.
And power is in calories, said Ryker, and threw his apple core over the railing. "Gareth hates it. But his men are hungry."
"Is it safe?" I inquired, and looked at the violet light flashing in the bread. The long term effects are unknown, Sato said.
It makes them belligerent, Ryker acknowledged. "Have you noticed? The fights in the corridors have increased twofold. Individuals are more robust, quicker... and more aggressive. It's not just food, Elara. It's combat fuel."
Cold, I said, Weaponizing the population.
This time we are feeding them, Ryker corrected. "Surviving isn't pretty."
There was a shuddering of the blast doors.
BOOM.
It wasn't a knock. It was an impact.
The alarm klaxons vibrated--an ugly, monotonous scream that penetrated the voice of the market.
"Breach alert!" The voice of Jaxon came in the PA. "Perimeter defense! Sector 4 loading dock!"
"Sector 4?" Ryker frowned. That is the external supply ramp. That is where Vane is delivering the fertilizer consignment.
"Karn," I realized.
Ryker sprung over the parapet, and fell twenty feet down into the plaza. He dropped on his knees with his Star-Metal sword in his hand.
"Baron!" Ryker shouted. "With me! To the garage!"
The Supply Run
We took the Beast.
Vane already stood in the garage and was starting the engine of a second armored transport which he had gaffed together--a smaller, faster scout car which carried a flamethrower.
"They struck the convoy over at the gate! Vane screamed something at the roaring engines as we jumped in. "They knew the schedule, Ryker! It is somebody leaking intel!
"Drive!" Ryker ordered.
We swore out of the garage and into the grey morning of the Deadlands.
The supply convoy was one mile out. It was a three-heavy-sledge train, drawn by loaders modified. They were transporting nitrate-laden soil excavated in the deep mines- needed in the Hydroponics Bay.
But the sleds weren't moving. They were surrounded.
I was looking through the windshield and I could see them.
Wolves.
These were not the wolves of the Spire. Karn's pack had changed.
They were massive. Their hair was greasy and oily, smeared and dirty. The worst part was, however, their size. They were fat, their muscles distended and twitching. They had the feral, violet eyes.
Grey-eating, they said, said Baron, as he ate the Grey in his passenger seat. They have been plundering the wild areas in the ruins. Look at them. They're high on it."
Karn was on the top of the lead sled. He appeared like a giant in his form as a human being. His armor consisted of scrap metal and chitin of spiders. He was carrying a bag of bag of the grey we were milling.
"Ryker!" Karn screamed and his voice reverberated down the ice. "You are late!"
"Ram them!" Ryker ordered Vane.
Vane banged down on the accelerator. The Beast plunged ahead with his plow descended.
Karn didn't flinch. He laughed.
"Pack! Scatter!"
The wolves were unnaturally fast. they did not run, they were blurred. Their Alpha physiology magnified the effect of the burst of energy that the Grey Bread had provided them with, and their fellow humans.
They jumped out of the sleds when the Beast crashed into the convoy.
CRASH.
We crashed against the sled in the back, striking it on the side. Metal screeched against ice.
The vehicle had not come to a halt when Ryker kicked the door open. He rolled out, and with his sword igniting to orange fire.
"Get away from the cargo!" Ryker roared.
Karn sprung out of the sled. He dropped on the ice carrying a giant hammer composed of a concrete block welded to a rebar handle.
You have no idea, King, we are not here because of the dirt. He tore off the bag of flour. He took the grey powder and put it in his mouth and swallowed.
His veins bulged. Up his neck a violet glow diffused.
"We're here for the fuel."
He swung the hammer.
Ryker blocked with his sword.
CLANG.
It was similar to the thunderclap effect. Ryker--an Alpha,--who had fought with gods, was beaten to one knee. The massive strength of the blow Karn gave was impressive.
He is tough, eh, Ryker gritted his teeth against the hammer. "Too strong."
Karn laughed and pressed down with The Grey. "It's better than meat, Ryker. It burns! It makes the blood sing!"
Baron rushed in, and fired his shotgun.
BOOM-BOOM.
Karn was struck in the armor of the chest by the slugs. The metal they dented, but Karn did not fall at all. He struck Baron in the back of the head with his free hand, and rocketed the Wolf Alpha twenty feet into a snowbank.
"You're old, Baron!" Karn shouted. The new world is the food of the hungry!
"Vane! The flamethrower!" I screamed from the Beast.
Vane turned the roof turret.
WHOOSH.
A blast of liquid fire swung towards Karn.
With unbelievable agility Karn jumped back with a growl. He dropped on the shoulders of one of the waiting wolves--a giant horse-sized creature.
"We have what we came for!" Karn shouted.
I looked at the sleds. They were empty. As Karn had been busy distracting us, his pack had looted the cargo. Not the soil. They had discovered the concealed sack of seed-corn which Ryker had attempted to sneak in the outer vault.
They stole the seeds, I said.
"Fall back!" Karn ordered.
The stray pack ran back to the ruins of the North District. They were like a black wave, quick and hectic.
Ryker rose on his heels, gasping. He looked at his sword. The Star-Metal blade was cut.
He is stronger than me, Ryker said to himself. It was a non egocentric fact.
And Baron came back to us, limping along, with his ribs.
It's the food," Baron spat black blood on the ice. It is changing them, changing them, faster than we thought. Should they plant those seeds... should they rear their own crop...
They will make an army of super-soldiers, Ryker finished.
He stared at the flour scattered on the ice. The snow was melting in the violet dust.
"We made a mistake," Ryker said. We believed that it was nothing more than survival of the Grey Bread. But it's a drug. Karn is the largest addict now in town.
"What do we do?" I asked. "We can't stop growing it. The people will starve."
Ryker sheathed his sword. His face was grim.
"We regulate it," Ryker said. "We secure the supply. And we prepare for war. The next time of Karn arrives... he will not be in search of seeds. He will be seeking out the bakery.
What was remaining of the convoy was loaded on the Beast.
We drove back towards the Spire and I observed the people in the market once more. I observed how they gazed at the bread. The hunger in their eyes. The little violet color to their lips.
We had saved them from the Rot. We were transforming them but into another.
The Grey Bread was not money only. It was the Ring of Power. And everybody would have liked to put it on.