Chapter 50.3: For a Friend

“You can stand there,” Penny said, glancing up at them over the steel plating of the golem’s torso, “or you could help me get at this stuff, and just maybe we’ll get out of here before we’re overrun by Inquest.”

Fjornsson started into another rebuttal, but Penny fixed her gaze on Jinkke. The fire had gone out of her eyes, and as much as she wanted to put a foot in her rear and get her moving, Penny really couldn’t blame her.

“Smalls?”

With a loaded sigh, Jinkke glanced aside and pressed a hand to her forehead. She raked fingers through her hair, but her eyes gravitated back to her brother. It was Penny’s turn to look away. She just couldn’t look at— that.

“Smoke and sparks,” Jinkke hissed. There was little life in her words, but she was making strides toward Penny and the golem. “We can’t not do it, can we?” She scrambled up onto the construct’s torso, making her way to the unarmored segment of its side.

“You have to be kidding,” the norn soldier spat.

Penny could tell, however, that the asura wasn’t. She was already recollecting the information they had. “The schematics stolen from the stacks were for a domed projection, which this golem clearly did not employ. Neither the magical essence nor the projection method were the same between this unit and our own. It doesn’t exclude the possibility that storage and processing were similar, though, so we may be searching for components akin to ours.” Her words fell right into pace with her thoughts, something Penny had heard enough times to recognize now. Their usual snap was missing, though; she simply recited facts. “Of course, we have no clear reason to believe the magic has been refined into a fluid. It could be in any state, which would—”

“Smalls, you’re thinking too hard. Let’s get inside the thing before you start guessing what we’re looking for.” Penny had moved around to the construct’s chest and was inspecting the dish that had clearly been the source of the beam weapon. “Starting here.”

Penny turned to the norn and thrust a finger back at the concave, steel chest panels. “Jumbo, can you get that out of there?” She came back and took hold of Kikka.

“What in Raven’s nest makes you think I’m about to help you delay us even more?” The soldier unconsciously flexed from head to toe, his lip curling in disgust.

Penny squared up to him, suddenly grateful for all the times she’d demanded another drink from Hronsson. “Do you remember the way out of this dungeon?”

Yult halted, the curl in his lip turning to a snarl at the implication.

“How about you, Smalls?” Penny called over her shoulder, not bothering to look back. “Do you remember the way?”

“Of course.”

It took him a moment, but the norn handed Kikka over to Penny and stepped aside to collect his giant sword from the ground. He stomped toward the construct, and Jinkke wisely got out of the way.

“Smart,” Penny said. She wrapped her arms around Kikka’s bony neck, ready to choke her out, should such a need—or opportunity—arise.

“The weapon seems to be docked for easy detachment,” Jinkke said, with a hint of returned energy. She pointed and mimed a prying gesture. “Some well directed leverage through that opening in its side should pop it free of its connectors. There appears to be a relatively clear path if you slide your blade in at a seventeen-degree angle. Other systems are less relevant, but we should really preserve anything we—”

Fjornsson jammed his sword’s five-foot blade into the big opening at the golem’s side, halting Jinkke’s words. He wasn’t in the shape he had been earlier, his movements jerky and unsteady now. But screeching metal and snapping electrical conduits said that he was getting somewhere, even if it wasn’t exactly with the finesse Jinkke wanted.

“My ears! Would you—” She danced around him, hands to her head and eyes wide. “If there is remaining magic in there, and you hack into the wrong component, you’re liable to—”

He drew out the blade, glanced at her, and grinned darkly, stabbing back up into the cavity through gods-only-knew-what, and he threw himself against the sword’s pommel a few times. The dish and the weapon behind it groaned and burst free, thrusting several inches out of the construct’s chest.

“There,” Fjornsson huffed, stepping back and sliding his weapon back into the tattered sheath over his shoulder. He gripped the edges of the steel dish and yanked, pulling the cylinder behind it free and onto the floor. He pounded his way back to Penny, and took up Kikka in his hand again. “Work.”

With an uncomfortable glance at each other, the two engineers set upon the exposed cylinder, a small series of separate but joined components that led them to their goal, just as Penny had guessed. Together, she and Jinkke, followed the strange series of a dozen individual beam emitters back to the rear of the largest component, where each one was hosed to an equal number of small contraptions that Jinkke determined to be capacitors. Those, in turn, were connected back through a series of other microcomponents cased together at the end of a black, steel tank. Penny understood what Jinkke explained as they traced the parts back, one to the next, but the equipment and the systems were all asuran, which intrinsically put Penny just off her footing. She hated it—maybe most of all because it was becoming so intriguing to her.

“That’s it,” Jinkke said, thrusting a finger at the end of a narrow cylinder peeking out of a matching dock in a larger piece.

Penny nodded. Despite herself, a thought struck her. It felt like it came from another age entirely, but she knew it had only been seasons. “Technology and magic,” she whispered.

“What?” Jinkke looked up, askance.

“Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head. Embarrassed anger melted into something softer and far more painful. “Just something someone said to me once.”

Jinkke seemed to read something into that, the gears in her head turning in a different direction. “Well, whoever that was, they were right, and it’s given me an idea.”

Penny scowled uncomfortably. Mischief was in Jinkke’s eyes, and it was more unnerving than it had ever been in her brother’s. “What kind of idea?” she asked.

Jinkke made no reply. She was already too invested in another visual inspection of the weapon and its magic-storage device. “Yes,” she muttered, pointing again. “Here. Assist me in separating the components here, just beyond the flow limiters.”

“No,” Penny said, waving hands in refusal. “Hell no. We just need to smash the whole thing and be done with it.”

“First,” Jinkke rebutted, the mischief giving way to a more parental correction, “we haven’t the first theory what might happen to us if we just smash it, particularly in a confined space.”

Penny winced at that thought, catching the implications immediately.

“Second,” Jinkke continued without pause, “last I witnessed, there was still an active struggle outside, with three conflicting parties involved. And I have considerable doubt that the sergeant is winning. We might just need this if we intend to get anywhere beyond the courtyard.”

Penny blinked, feeling her jaw fall open. Gods. She knew Jinkke was broken up, but this was cold, even for Penny.

“You want to use this stuff as a weapon?” She demanded.

Jinkke’s expression flashed remorse, but she quickly expelled it for something cool and distant. “As an absolute last resort, yes.”

“Finally I can agree with something,” the norn interjected. Both of them turned to him only briefly, Jinkke nodding and Penny— well, she didn’t know what she was projecting now.

“How do you see that working?” Penny snapped incredulously. “We run out there and blow it up so all the bad guys go nuts and let us pass?”

Jinkke shrugged. It wasn’t her brother’s floppy, uncertain shrug, either. “Essentially, yes. Unless we can establish a better approach.”

Penny thought to argue, but if Jinkke was right, if the conflict still raged outside, any tool they had could prove valuable—gods knew they were running short on tools. Even still, Penny couldn’t stop her mind from wandering to Minkus, even if she couldn’t bring her eyes to do the same. He was gone, still gone. But he would also always be Minkus. He could never bring himself to inflict what he’d seen—what he’d now experienced—on someone else, and she owed him. Penny owed him.

“Fine,” she conceded, meeting Jinkke’s eyes. “But I’m carrying it.”

Jinkke shrugged but nodded.

As quickly as she’d said it, though, Penny realized she didn’t want to be within yards of that thing, let alone carrying it with her own two hands. The next best thing… well, she was still wearing a pack, she realized. Amid all their troubles in this hellhole, she’d forgotten, but she was still wearing it. She was still wearing— gods, she was wearing Minkus’ pack. It would have to be enough.

Penny coughed, fumbling for words. “In my pack, I mean. Your brother’s pack, that is. I’ll carry it in your brother’s pack.” The mention derailed whatever thoughts had been rushing through Jinkke’s head as well, but she nodded, refocusing.

“What about her?” the norn boomed behind them.

He extended Kikka’s still limp form toward them, and the knot in Penny’s belly squeezed out that dual hatred as she eyed the captive up and down. But again, the thought of Minkus was hot on its heels.

How could she possibly kill someone in the name of Minkus the Large?

“Tie her up,” Penny ordered. “Tie her up and— I don’t know. Trap her under that thing.” She flailed an arm at the collapsed golem.

Yult spat, looming forward and waggling Kikka like a fish. “Oh, no, human. No! She brought the end of my team, and for that, she’ll pay. If you don’t have the stones to do it, I do.”

Penny stepped forward to meet him, anger flaring inside her again: at him, at Kikka, at herself—even at Minkus. Convinced of it or not, she’d committed to a course.

“I don’t have stones at all, dimwit. I’m a woman.” She rose to him again and crossed her arms, gesturing an elbow at Minkus without looking. “We’ve all lost people now, haven’t we? Because of her.” She nodded at Kikka, then spread her arms to take in the whole room. “Because of all of this. So what? Now you want to do the same thing right back?”

Glaring up into the Yult’s vengeful expression, Penny cast aside the sudden awareness of her own hypocrisy. “Gods, I was going to. I wanted to. Torment, I still do. But he’d never do that; Minkus would never do that. I don’t know what your friends were like, but he was kind to damn-near everyone, even the people who didn’t deserve it.” She almost broke, feeling the burn of tears in her throat. “Especially the people who didn’t deserve it.”

Balling a fist, she shook it away, collecting herself as the norn stared down his nose.

“Look, even I’m above shooting an ally,” she said with a cold sigh. “So I couldn’t stop you from doing whatever you’re going to. But I’ll at least get my face knocked in trying. Because he would.”

Just trying to keep up with the flurry of sentiment spilling out of her own mouth, Penny hadn’t noticed when Jinkke had crept up beside her. Hands on her hips and eyes locked hard on Fjornsson, the asura posted herself, daring the norn to do other than what Penny instructed.

Snarling in frustration, the huge soldier dropped Kikka and raised his hand to the weapon at his back. He returned the pair’s gaze with dark intent.

Penny shifted her weight, but neither she nor Jinkke gave ground. Fjornsson’s eyes darted between them, but after a moment, he lowered his hand, turned, and stomped away. It was the first time his wide shape had reminded Penny of a baby.

A thought struck her, though, and it almost made her desperate enough to glance at her fallen friend. Almost.

“If you really want something to do with those giant arms,” she called after the sulking giant, pointing to where she knew Minkus lay. “He could use a carry out of here.”

Jinkke glanced up at her in shock, which quickly gave way to gratitude. She echoed the sentiment. “I too would appreciate it.”

Yult glared at them, furious. But then caught sight of Minkus, and the vindictive air left him.

“Not for you,” he growled. “For him. I too owe him a debt.”

“Fine by me,” Penny replied. “Probably better that way.”

He returned, waiting by Minkus’ side as Penny and Jinkke worked: one at finding a way to bind and pin their captive, and the other at deconstructing the agony weapon.

With some twine she dug out of a toolbag and a smattering of cable ripped from the golem, Penny cinched Kikka’s hands and feet together before dragging her back to her own damnable creation. Moving the slack body was harder for her than it had been for the norn, but he showed no interest in helping her. Not until it came to lifting back the golem’s hulking torso and pinning the asura beneath it. That actually brought him a dose of satisfaction.

As he held back the massive weight, Penny pushed Kikka into its shadow. She stepped back, and the norn released the weight of the construct’s body down onto her. Bones in Kikka’s leg crunched, and a monstrous grin spread across the norn’s broad face. Penny felt a dash of it too, especially when the pain finally roused the asura from sleep.

Kikka’s eyes burst open, and she screamed a wild, raging series of what Penny could only guess were asuran expletives. Penny waited for Kikka to breathe.

“Well, good morning, you evil, little bitch,” she cooed. “Just wanted you to know that we’re leaving now.”

Kikka struggled, sucking rabid breaths through clenched teeth as she recognized her entrapment for the first time. The adrenaline must have been kicking in. “What is— How did—”

Each time she tried to assess the situation, the pain found her again, clearly to a lesser degree, and she screamed her hate again.

“Yeah, I bet that hurts,” Penny said, forcing coolness into her voice. She brushed loose hair behind her ear. “It’s your leg broken to hell under the weight of a two-ton golem. You’re going to need one wizard of a healer if you get out of this. But then, you just killed one of those, didn’t you?”

On her second attempt at speech, Kikka managed to force out intelligible words through gritted teeth. “You had better— you’d better terminate me now, bookah. By the Alchemy, I— I will—“

“You won’t do a damn thing,” Penny hissed, cutting her off. “That asura you just killed, he’s the only reason you’re still alive. The norn was ready to kill you, and until two minutes ago so was I. But our friend, her brother?” she gestured at Jinkke. “Gods, he’d never have it. He was too good. So for him—only for him—we’ll leave you to the gods or the Alchemy or whatever you think rules things out here.”

Penny crouched down, leaning her head into Kikka’s view. “But I swear, if I ever see your face again, I won’t give a second thought to doing things my way.”

With that, Penny rose and made for Jinkke, ignoring the additional jargon and spittle that flew from the asura’s mouth. Shock would set in soon and shut her up awhile.

In the meantime, the three gathered what they needed. With unexpected delicacy, Fjornsson bent to hoist Minkus to his shoulder, and Penny looked to Jinkke, who gingerly slid the mursaat energy container into Penny’s—Minkus’—pack. Something wooden inside cracked, and though the two exchanged a curious glance, there was no time to see what it was.

Yult made for the door, and Penny caught only a passing glimpse of the gray arm and head hanging back over his shoulder. That was enough to sick her up again. She looked to Jinkke instead, who was already moving in the same direction. She stopped, though, ducking aside to take something up from the floor.

In reverential hands, Jinkke lifted up her brother’s magnet, looked it over, and pressed it to her chest. Shoulders slumping, she quietly passed Fjornsson toward the door.

Penny gulped back a mass in her throat. How was she ever going to square a debt like this?