The Swarm

In the hanging silence, only the faint crackle of the lamps could be heard. — You mean those stories of Laev? — Merid frowned. — The ones where the lower sectors rose against the elites? She threw her hands up, as if trying to make him understand what kind of nonsense they were even talking about. But before Yun could answer, her fist flew past his face, grazing his cheekbone. The skin stung. Her second strike was caught mid-motion — Yun grabbed her wrist, holding it tight as he looked into her eyes. The same green. Like the wild vegetation on the surface, flecked with brown that had spread across her irises after she started roaming topside with her father. He didn’t stop the next swing. The slap cracked sharply against the metal walls. And there she was — the girl who used to cling to his sleeve on every outing — taking the chance to hit harder. — The sector, you bitch—! — Merid shouted. — What did you do?! — Feel better? — Yun replied calmly, pushing her a step back. His cheek burned, but the sting wasn’t from the pain — it was from not being given the chance to explain. — You did this for Ksand, didn’t you? — she pressed, stepping toward him again. Yun’s back hit the seat behind him. He stopped. — Not only. The sector was already doomed, — he hissed, tapping his temple with a finger. — It’s time you start understanding what’s going on. — Enlighten me. What happened? Go on. What made you kill everyone who fed you? Merid could swear — if Yun noticed the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, she’d hit him again. — They don’t evacuate sectors. They dump them, — Yun blurted. Merid dropped into the seat across from him, stunned. — What do you mean? She shook her head, instinctively rejecting it. — The higher-ups dispose of the elderly and the sick, — the technician said, watching her closely. — The young ones, they take for themselves. Yun noticed how she swallowed. — Once a sector is emptied, it suddenly collapses. Before help ever arrives. — And you sped that up… why? — she stared at him, lost. — I just made sure Avel wouldn’t go after us, — Yun said, irritated by her ignorance. — It wasn’t supposed to collapse. Not now. It happened because they took the emergency route. “The arch cracked,” Merid recalled Ksand’s words. She heard the disappointment in Yun’s voice. But she didn’t understand it was directed at himself. — Who ordered it? — she asked, voice breaking. — The ones you think are made up, — Yun shrugged. — You contacted the Resistance? — Merid covered her mouth, afraid the last word came out too loud. — What the hell did you get yourself into? — I’m the one dragging us out of the shit we’re in! — Yun snapped. — You think Ksand would’ve taken you if— — So that’s it? — she cut him off, jumping to her feet. — You asked him for me? Nothing depended on me. That bastard Ksand was testing me. The thought burned. The anger had nowhere to go but into Yun. — Asked? Asked, Merid? — Yun shot back, standing up too. — You don’t ask Ksand for anything. — Then what? Her voice dropped, controlled, but her hands clenched so hard her nails bit into her skin. — A deal, — Yun admitted reluctantly. — The collapse of F-8 ventilation. — You’re saying the Resistance… — she lowered her voice again — …and Ksand gave the same order? You’re lying to me. She stepped closer. — They don’t know it’s the same order, — he exhaled. — You’ll understand. I’ve already said too much. His tone was final. — My job was to get you out before— — Before everyone dies, — Merid finished. Silence returned, thick and suffocating. For the first time in a long while, she looked at Yun differently. He felt no more familiar than a random visitor from D-16. — Why me? Two dry words, hiding something deeper — a need to hear she mattered. Or maybe… just maybe… that he chose her. — They need couriers the King is loyal to, — Yun answered. It hit harder than the slap. They need couriers. Not her. Not her skills. Just a function. — I see, — she muttered, dropping back into her seat. Yun’s hand rested on her shoulder. — Right now, there’s only one thing that matters, — he said, tired. — There are no safe places. But… He hesitated. — You can find your family anywhere. Her vision blurred with tears. Family. The last member of hers had burned up from pneumonia five years ago, never seeing a medic from the upper sectors. She remembered her father as kind. Her mother — a bitter miser. Only later did she realize: they were just two people, barely older than she was now, trying to survive by believing in Kleim’s system. She covered her face. — Family. And who the hell is my family?! — she scoffed, lowering her hands. — You? The Resistance? Or maybe… Her whisper turned into a shaky laugh. — Ksand? Who do you even serve, Yun? — Myself, — he said, sliding his hand from her shoulder to her palm. His thumb traced her skin aimlessly, as if trying to press his belief into her. — Everything else is just a means. He crouched down to her level. — Merid. Next time, after the King — don’t go straight to Ksand. Go west. There’ll be a man near two crossed trees. Tell him I sent you. He’s there every Wednesday. — And how do you know it’ll be Wednesday and I’ll be alone? — she muttered. — I know. She didn’t want to find out whether that certainty came from Ksand… or the Resistance. — Why? — she pressed. — To play family with a bunch of rioters who don’t even know what they want? Yun’s jaw tightened. — At least they give answers, — he snapped, leaning over her. — But if you want to be Ksand’s little monkey — go ahead. Without waiting, he left the carriage, disappearing beyond the windows. Merid sank back. The longer she sat alone, the harder the past days pressed against her skull. Yun with the Resistance. The last remains of her past buried under F-8. Jun — an even worse bitch. And Elis… Elis. Merid jumped to her feet, heading for the exit. Her pace quickened. If anyone could calm her, it was her. She moved toward the “lights.” Where else would they display the perfect Clotho example? She could’ve picked Elis out in a crowd by her laugh alone. Always bright. Always clean. As if the weight of humanity had never touched her. As if they weren’t all just trying to survive. — Me-e-rid, — Elis called, turning with a glass of water. She stood surrounded by unfamiliar women, talking about pregnancy privileges. Her hand rested instinctively on her stomach — protecting something only she could feel. — Joseph? — Merid asked, glancing around, annoyed he’d left her alone. — Been… resting, — Elis said, gesturing toward a storage door. Drunk. Obviously. Merid grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. — They drag you around like… what, a team mascot? Elis laughed. That same laugh. — Harsh, but accurate, — she nodded. — I talk about how great Sector C is. Walk around pregnant. Alive and well. — For now, — Merid cut in. — Transport conditions are excellent. Tests every time we arrive, — Elis recited. — I’ll stop the moment anything looks off. Merid raised a brow. — They promised. — Promised. Right, — Merid muttered, scanning the crowd. — Some of them came before Kleim, — Elis added. — Fanatics, — Merid said flatly. — They’re actually nice people, — Elis defended. — You teamed up with them too? — They oversee the Clotho project. Merid blinked. Elis forced a smile, waving at someone. Figures moved toward them. — Jesus. You’re a walking brochure, — Merid exhaled. Then smirked. — Guess Sector C really is nice. — You have no idea, — Elis played along. Merid watched the approaching figures. More girls. More lies. Ksand’s people appeared. Elis squeezed her hand. Everyone knew where they were going — F-8. For bodies. And survivors, if there were any. — Look at me, — Elis said, pulling her attention back. — The important thing is you’re okay. The rest… we’ll survive it. — Yeah, — Merid muttered. The smell hit her before the bodies even rotted. She could already feel it. — I’m getting a drink, — she said, leaving before introductions. She still had some wax oil left for her suit. Didn’t know if Ksand would give her more. Didn’t matter. She needed to get drunk. The mug hit the table. She didn’t flinch. She glanced at Elis — still laughing. With strangers. Didn’t want to go back. Not to the scouts. Not even to her. For the first time, Elis’s light didn’t heal her darkness. It exposed it. Always smiling. Always unbearably bright. Her laugh tasted like broken glass. Merid shook her head and drank. The bitterness steadied her. — Rough day? A stranger stood beside her. Slightly older. Brown hair slicked back. Smiling — but his eyes were dead. Steel-colored. — I don’t talk to random weirdos, — she said, trying to leave. He blocked her. — Nero, — he said sharply, offering his hand. — Merid, — she replied, not taking it. — Let me buy you a drink? — I don’t join cults or buy anything, — she snapped, eyeing his mycelium robe. Too refined. Sector-grade. — Funny. Always this defensive? — Only when I don’t know the angle. — What if I’m just interested in you? His pupils widened. The world tilted. Cold. Like pre-dawn. But there was something in his presence. The alcohol hit harder. — Who are you? — Pastor of the Church of Enlightenment. He smirked at her confusion. — The ones who worship hybrids? — Not worship. Just… a different perspective. He nudged her drink closer. — Let’s play. She perked up. — Terms? — Five minutes. If you’re not interested, I leave — and drinks are on me. He studied her. — And if I am? — Then you answer any question I ask. His gaze slid from her face to her neck. A good deal. She was sure she’d shut him up in a minute. — Better start counting your coins, — she smirked, gesturing for him to sit. Jay sighed. He’d seen this game a thousand times. And always knew better than to join.