The 6th of Six (The Legend of Kimraig Llu) by J. K. (Keith) Wilson

secondary code known only to Jake. Security problem—and none of his team had died. He turned towards four more flames that flicked, then disappeared.
    His reps from all five buildings were safe.
    In just one-step, Kimraig was inside, behind the wind-curtain, hitching it back in place and taking an empty seat next to a small lamp they now lit. In the meager light, they seemed to be wearing the same clothes they had worn on the roof that day. They had not gone back to their rooms.
    “You scared the hell out of me Midge. What happened?”
    “Was a time nothing scared the great Hunter Kimraig,” Midge chuckled, flipping hair off her forehead. “Must be that new Leader you bumpin’ hips with.”
    “Our meeting is tomorrow night; strategy only.” Kimraig corrected, his face flushed briefly, matching the color of his copper curls.
    A muffled huff came from the darkness. “Red face say different.” This from Rat, his left and right hand combined. Only luck had allowed him to find her, a female Trooper from his command, unconscious, and sinking into the Compost heap. The Wicca’s surgeons had considered her wounds fatal. They threw her in alive. That afternoon they arrested him for that treasonous act. He never regretted the time he spent in his cell. Their search never found Rat, and that is what mattered.
    One by one, the other two females checked in. Macy and Char—his lovely Char, her beauty out of place in this bunch. He had neglected her for weeks now, but there would be no time for them until she joined him at their goal.
    These three female Troopers and one badly burned Hunter were all that remained of his Battle Group long ago disgraced on the train station concourse. They were heroes of the Gender War, and later, another in Number 5 Building. The fourth, named Midge is just as valuable but a relative newcomer, all of them doomed unless he got them to One Nine.
    “What happened? You first, Rat,” Kimraig asked as the banter wore down.
    “Dat Crosser old man is sleeping with his troops. He don’ usually go fight, ‘specially when that big guy not by his side. Lots a’ spies out. Not normal.”
    Each in turn added information to the picture. In the clerical section of Number 4 Building, a Queen had disappeared and a mute had purchased a hand weapon. Three babies, all females had disappeared from the natal ward. All five Superiors had met in private. One would command an unknown project, a project that included Leader Breen.
    Reports from the other buildings described unrest from the Others: demands for freedom, equality and their own Wicca Leader. Outsiders had converged on their perimeter. The Crossers remained quiet.
    There were too many potential complications. Tomorrow, when he met Leader Breen in her quarters, everything would change. The enjoyment he received from using sex to control her would be sweet. Her body always fought his control. His always won. Just concentrate and get through this. Kimraig forced his attention back.
    Jake grunted. He could talk, but saved it for Macy. The caustic sap from the Choker weed had taken most of his lips and part of his tongue when he had crawled, legless, into the tangles of wild growth to rescue a frightened female child—Macy’s. She was their child now. Both had taken vows from a shadow priest in Lower Level that forever laced them together.
    From that day on, Macy was never far from Jake’s side. For her and her daughter, he had risked his life and said nothing when questioned about the child’s mother. The Wicca’s clean-up squad quoted the laws to him, using blows to his damaged face for emphasis. Females do not raise their children; wet nurses did that in Number 2 Building. Babies belong there, not with their mother. The Wicca had spoken long ago.
    He resisted their physical questions. In tears, Macy remained hidden until they tired of their game and let him be with a warning to return the child to Number 2 Building.
    Now she took his remaining hand in