Desert Company: Retrospective

“Ugh…”

Saya flopped down on the white bed, her feet bearing cramps. It was the softest thing she had ever touched, the bed catching her fall. Changed into new pajamas she had gotten for free in the shop, Saya mumbled herself into a light daze.

Five of them were assigned to a room, making rather a tight space to stay in.

“Uwah, so this is a ‘hair dryer’...” Mouka Toqemur marveled at the device emitting hot air, while taking her time in the bathroom.

“Mouka, that’s like the third time you’ve showered your hair,” Suruj Zundui shouted from the desk.

“C’mon Suruj. This stuff’s new,” Jose Perez was laying on the couch, “They’re much different from anything we’ve seen in Buhanggilog. Sayounara, squat toilets!”

“Well that is one thing I won’t miss,” Suruj commented.

“When I get back to my gang in the Luzokapital, I’m telling them all about this, how we lived like rajas and lakans!” Jose said enthusiastically. Rajas and lakans… Suruj refused to comment.

Once they all were done preparing to sleep; using the fresh toothbrushes, showering, changing clothes, the five of them were huddled together around the round table. There was an trivial topic to discuss. Two beds lay parallel to each other, while a desk and couch lay vacant on the other side of the room.

“Okay, so…” Jun Hyun-woo started, “Who gets to sleep where?”

“Mouka and I will sleep on one bed,” Saya instantly answered.

“Hah? You hogging the beds!” Jose jumped out of his position, “Diskriminasyon ito eh!”

“Use your brain for once,” Mouka pointed to her forehead, before hugging herself, “There’s no way I’m going to share a bed with a Buhang or a Z̆ongren.”

“Me too,” Saya linked hands with her, before shouting in unison, “Bleh!”

“Then how about this, Saya and Mouka on one bed, Jun and Jose on the other,” Suruj proposed to the table.

“Uh, Suruj? You left yourself out of that one.”

“I know, I’m going to sleep on the office chair. Since I’m using it anyway.”

The four of them stared at him with a look of pity. Lately, Saya had seen Suruj take on many responsibilities, making plans, and gathering intel. Seeing his determination, made her want to help out as much as possible, too. Before going to bed, Saya and Mouka had their sundown prayer to Balaam.

 

Tav 29th. Saya, Mashuu Ashojan, and Kwazhak Laoyuang stood in one of the gigantic legs of the great Al-Fuhsya Turbine, the morning sun shining on its bright black rim. A mechanical marvel, it was the biggest windmill to ever catch the southern winds up above, generating power through the entire city with a saharic grid. On the leg, the neighboring skyscrapers were a shoe compared to it. The sound of the huge fan churning rumbled throughout the city, audible for multiple blocks.

The entrance to the Western Rim was a descending concrete walkway lined with white pinwheels from left to right, leading into clear glass windows. The right side detoured to a memorial plaque of the lives that had perished during the construction, and a small garden. The technology was way ahead of its time, for even Rümqî didn’t have such technology. The three began to walk down the stairs.

“Remember your task,” Kwazhak said, taking leisurely steps, “Investigate the power grid, and record it.”

They were supposed to check out the Al-Fuhsya Turbine to use for their exploitations. Suruj wanted to learn how the turbine functioned, so he asked if anyone with an understanding of windmills and machinery. Saya volunteered, being that she had began to maintain one with the help of Kyukko. She also brought Mashuu, who she knew had technical knowledge in horology, although she made sure not to tell them.

The automatic sliding doors parted as they instantly noticed the guards inside the structure. The place had a reception desk, and the majority of the whitened room had been turned into a museum of sorts. Pictures of the construction, pieces of their gear, and artifacts left over from various maintenance failures throughout the years cased in glass.

“What business do you have here?” One of the guards, clad in Dineh clothing, interrogated Kwazhak. However all he needed to do was to show his black bracelet. The guard instantly backed off. “My apologies. Peace be with you.”

With the bracelet they could go anywhere, Saya thought. But now they were testing the limits of their autonomy as muqatil. Going past the tourist area, they went towards the door that led to the interior of the turbine. Much to their surprise, the stationed guard withdrew their authority and allowed them to pass, even unlocking the door for them. How could they permit such leniency? Their status? Their symbol as a fighter? Religious reasons?

The inside was only lit up by dim bulbs that strung over the arch. The temperature increased significantly, sweat sliding down her neck. The entire structure was in a constant state of shuddering, the engines and motors diligently keeping up with the huge rotor. Various alarms, and lights echoed in the distance. They stepped onto the floor grating held by metal bolts. Parts of the turbine were underground, since only the top half of the turbine was visible above ground.

“Look!” Saya held onto the railing as she pointed down. There was a room on the bottom floor of the shaft.

It took a while to reach the bottom, and they entered the authorized personnel only door. It became colder for some reason, and the walls were covered in sandstone. The hallway was full of machinery and equipment Saya couldn’t understand, although she recognized a few windmill operational levers.

“Saya, this is the power grid,” Mashuu gestured to them. They huddled over the device, which a poster displayed three colors for the three districts of Pupunru, Taikai, and Kapori. Below were three main levers, each marked in the corresponding colors.

“Green for Kapori, Blue for Pupunru, and Red for Taikai, got it,” Saya recorded it on a piece of paper. “But what will pulling these levers do?”

“Most likely, it will shut down power flowing to the districts,” Mashuu guessed, pointing to the smaller screen, “At this smaller terminal, it looks like you can input a specific block of a district.”

“That’s it, we can cut the power to Tengerleg Stadium,” She put two and two together.

“How can someone arrive here during the tournament?” Kwazhak questioned her suggestion.

“Right… There has to be someone that has access to the Al-Fuhsya Turbine in order to pull the switch.”

“Fortunately, I think I have an idea of who it should be,” The prince responded quickly, “Tsuchiya. I will consult him-”

“Kwazhak, you sure?” Saya looked up at him for a while. Ever since L and Khouw passed away, everything seemed to fall before them.

“...” A long silence passed, before he answered. “Miss Saya, I’m sure that I will fulfill my duties for as long as Laoyuang is my surname.”

Heading back up the stairs, they came across people that were workers on the site, but couldn’t do anything about their status. Even if it was for a second, the employees were cautious of them. Having three fighters in the turbine without a reason would be suspicious. But the task was done. Even if it was only a little bit, Saya felt like she was helpful.

 

“I see,” Suruj thought about it, “If we can get someone inside Al-Fuhsya during the Dineh Kazaàd and cut power to the stadium, that could also get rid of any devices that mess with saharic density.”

They were inside the hôtel room, all of them discussing the information Saya and the others found.

“Saharic density?”

Suruj picked up a pamphlet, “The stadium has a machine that supposedly increases or decreases the amount of particles in the area. If we were to cut off power to the entire city to cover an escape, that would cause a massive panic, so that’s off the table…”

He covered his wrinkled face, thinking for a moment. Dark spots under his eyes were already present, with a multitude of papers scattered around the desk.

“Suruj, I know you’ve been trying to help all of us,” Saya placed her hand on his shoulder, “But I really think you need to rest.”

“Rest?” He raised his voice, frustrated, “We’ve got two days. Two fricking days, before we die in that hellhole of an arena! We must not let a spec of our time be wasted…”

The boy slapped Saya’s hand off, as the room was filled with silence. She set her hand to the side. She knew she’d blow it. Saya was someone who’d speak without using her head, impulsively saying the first thing that comes to mind. She was aware of that.

“Even so, one has to be well reposed in order to conceive such immaculate plans,” Kwazhak backed her statement, as she looked at him. “It’s best that you rest, for the others and I will lend a helping hand,” He made his way toward the room’s exit. “Saya, Mashuu. Tomorrow we shall go to a local smithy.”