“I’m glad you’re excited, my love. However, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. If this works, it won’t just be me who benefits. And we also have to consider how it can be misused.”
“I’m not sure how it could be. With the promise of agricultural development and transportation, the technology could improve everyone’s lives drastically. I think once the prototype’s finished, you’re going to find just how well it works. Then, we can go to the Council and—”
She held up a hand. “Let’s just keep the Council out of it for now. Sometimes, you’re just too trusting. And this technology is too sensitive to make public yet. I’ll test it, make sure it’ll serve its purposes. Sit on it for a bit, if you will.” She grinned. “The weaponization of this, though, is too obvious. Especially with all we’ve been dealing with as of late. You know how untrustworthy—Durante!”
She stared right at him so he waved.
“Durante? He’s very trustworthy. Why would you even suggest he’s—”
Mirra laughed, lightly smacking his shoulder, and pointed to where Durante stood just inside the lab entryway. “No! He’s standing right there, goofy!”
“Oh!” Professor Wilson lurched forward from where he’d been sitting against a counter and turned. “Durante! Come on over! I have something to share with you. We were just discussing it. Maybe you can offer some insight into how to handle the fruition of a decade’s worth of research.”
Durante walked across the room smiling, despite his nervousness. Professor Wilson clapped him on the shoulders as he arrived. The professor laid out the whole project Durante hadn’t even realized he’d been working on. He put that lack of knowledge out of mind and only listened. He tried to listen intently, but he was simply happy to hear the man explaining his latest revelation with unmatched enthusiasm.
Durante sighed, closed his eyes, and looked to the ground. It dawned on him this was their last moment together. Professor Wilson went silent and gripped his shoulder tightly.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Durante opened his eyes and gave a wane smile. “It sounds amazing, professor. And I bet it’ll change lives. But… there’s something I need to tell you that’ll change all our own lives immediately.”
“Well, don’t play coy, man! What is it?” He chuckled.
“I have to leave. I’m going to Philadelphia. The GISD Gee has sent me a summons.”
At first, the professor said nothing. Then, a broad smile lit up his face and he grabbed Durante with both hands and gave a hearty laugh.
“You’ve been drafted? That’s fantastic news! Who’s your head?”
“A Doctor… Bokham Pryce.”
“Oh! A wonderful mentor for your internship! You’d be hard pressed to find better!” He furrowed his brow. “Oh, don’t look so crestfallen, Durante. We all have to move on sometime.”
“I suppose so.”
Mirra stepped forward and offered up a hug. “Congratulations! I know you’ll do fantastic.”
Durante hugged her back and felt the tears trying to brew. “Thank you. I’ll never forget you two. I can’t stress enough how much of an honor it’s been.”
Durante stood back as Mirra wrapped an arm around her husband’s waist. The professor shook his head and chuckled.
“Durante, the honor has been all ours. I couldn’t have asked for a better pupil. And I hope I’ve been a good mentor.”
“You’ve been the best. I would never have gotten this far without you.”
“Oh, I doubt that. But thank you for saying so,” Professor Wilson said. “When do you leave?”
Durante licked his lips. “They expect me there by the fifth.”
“That’s not a lot of time. That means you’ll need to charter a ferry today if you hope to arrive in time.”
Mirra nodded and said, “Not to mention pack, and then head out to Aquila Mons. You’ll need to hit the Ministry to get your draft papers in order and transfer approved.”
Professor Wilson nodded. “Yeah, those Union boys don’t screw around. You’ll likely be put to work the second you arrive. So, you’ll want to get everything in order ASAP.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Just relax. Don’t work yourself up too much,” the professor said. “And remember, don’t be afraid.”
“Okay, I will.” Durante nodded, then gave an ‘er’ sound. “Not be afraid, that is.”
Mirra gave a quiet laugh. “You’d better get a move on then. You’re burning daylight.”
“Yeah.” Durante frowned. “I probably should.”
Professor Wilson held out a hand. “Well, good luck, Mr. Weiss. Soon, we’ll be calling you ‘Professor Weiss’! You’re going to accomplish great things out there. And next time you’re in town, you’re always welcome to come join us for dinner.”
Durante smiled, gave his final goodbyes, went to finish packing up, and left via the docks. He was in Aquila Mons before he even knew it.
HERE HE WAS, five years since, holding onto the journal the professor had asked him to keep track of should it get lost. The first time back since that time never realizing that would be the last time he’d ever see Professor Wilson again.
Durante stopped on top of another dune and pulled the journal out once more and flipped through the pages. True to his word, he’d filled the book with schematics and details. So many inventions that it boggled the mind. If he had to guess, the journal had to contain around five hundred pages or so. It would take days to read through it all. Days to examine some of the ideas and discover the likelihood they were brought to prototype. Here, the specifications for a new type of revolver that could use gravity as a firing mechanism. There, something like a gravimagnetic lift that could be piloted. A strange little grenade like object that could ‘split’ into halves when thrown. And then Durante paused at the end of the book.
Oh my god… This invention made up something like twenty pages and went to the very last page. He did it… he actually solved it… This… this is what Mr. Berricks is after. It has to be. If he had this…
Durante looked up towards Chesik and closed the journal back. The sky was starting to turn a light orange on the horizon. He was closer now to Chesik. He could make out buildings. Maybe another four or five hours and he’d be there. However, he was no longer certain he wanted this book in the general’s hands. If he got ahold of this… he’d be unstoppable…
IT’D ONLY BEEN a few weeks since he’d first learned about the professor’s death. The news had been sickening because speculation across the ship had it that General Berricks himself had ordered the professor’s assassination. As lead engineer on the Pylons Project, Durante had an obligation to ensure that those rumors were false. If Mr. Berricks had indeed ordered the professor’s death then he could no longer work for the general in good conscience and would have to report the troubling situation back to Union command. That would mean going over the general’s head. Something he did not want to do.
Durante furiously stormed into the conference room having no idea what he was going to say, but knowing he was going to say something. Moral outrage drove his heart. And as he burst into that room, mouth half open, his brain took over.
Mr. Berricks hunched over the massive oak table at the center of the room, eyes affixed on the tough looking men who, hilariously, appeared for all the world like scolded children. And the snarling face of General Berricks was the angry patron tired of their behavior.
“I don’t give two flying fucks what you thought, Nielson! This fuck up has cost us time, money, and my patience! Our job isn’t to burn down the entirety of the Wastelands to fix this shit. But if that’s what I gotta do to correct this horseshit, then that’s what I’m gonna do! What the hell do you want, Weiss?”
Durante’s throat went dry and his tongue sent limp. That steely eyed gaze affixed him fiercely. The others seemed relieved someone had taken the cold fires off of them. If at least for a moment. The notion of confronting Mr. Berricks over wheth
er or not he was involved seemed just then like the stupidest decision he’d ever made. However, since he was there, he cleared his throat.
“I, is it true? What they’re saying? Th, that you had Professor Wilson… m, murdered?”
General Berricks remained hunched over the table, hands on the surface, glaring daggers at Durante. His eyes were a deep, blue ocean of raging malice that stood as stark contrasts to his white hair. Then he turned to the two at the end of the table and they visibly swallowed and suddenly found something in their laps to look at.
“You see that? You see what this fuck up has done? Now the whole ship is gossipin’ over it!” He pushed off the table and rose to his full six-foot-two height, placing his hands on his hips, duster whipping back in the process. That deep glare came back to Durante. “No. I did not have Wilson killed. Yet, even if I had, how would that be any of your gawddamn business?”
Durante forced himself to keep his own eyes on Berricks’ (even though he had the sudden urge to vomit). “Professor W, Wilson was my mentor during my apprenticeship. I owe him everything for where I am today. If you had had him killed, I, I…”
“You’d what?” General Berricks continued staring at him as Durante couldn’t say anything, could only wilt under that terrible gaze. After a moment, the general chuckled. “Relax, Weiss. This wasn’t what we came for. Now, I’m not under any obligation to share anything with you. So, bear that in mind the next time you get the urge to barge into one of my meetings again. I might not be so chatty in the future. Just so happens I was getting tired of yelling anyhow. The truth of the matter regarding the good professor is that a little birdie shared with me he had a certain journal with certain designs that would benefit us greatly. We reached out to Wilson and struck a deal. He was supposed to have handed it over. Until a certain local yokel decided the best way to retrieve it was through shootin’.”
“Kern Michaels.”
The general turned to Nielson. “What was that?”
“His name is—”
“I don’t give a fuck what the bastard’s name is! He’s fucking with my timetable!” Properly admonished, Nielson went back to staring at his lap and Mr. Berricks turned back to Durante. “The point is, Pelican made a deal with me and then reneged when ‘Michaels’,” he threw a glance over his shoulder, “and his crew showed up instead of one of us. The professor took off, so those blasted outlaws took matters into their own hands rather than reporting back! Wilson weren’t supposed to die.”
Durante frowned. “Pelican?”
“Don’t worry about it.” General Berricks walked past Durante, causing him to reflexively flinch and take a step back, and opened the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some villages to raze. Don’t want to, not this way, but we gotta get that book back now that it’s in the wind, and before it gets into the hands of someone… less responsible.”
Durante hesitated. Did he mean to do what he thought he was going to do? Or was it little more than hyperbole? A feeling of dread sat on Durante’s chest and he moved to leave and be away from the general’s menacing presence. He was looming over him after all, waiting for him to exit the mostly dark conference room with its sparse furnishings and hanging war map on the far wall. It would look less terrifying if there was a window in here. Maybe. Then he came to a stop before exiting. A journal… he couldn’t possibly mean…? I hadn’t thought about that in years. Do I even still have the tracer?
“Well? Are you getting’ out or do I have to have you forcibly removed?” Mr. Berricks growled.
A guard in the hall looked into the room. Durante glanced at him and then to the general.
“Wh, what if… I could get that journal myself?”
General Berricks furrowed his brow then let the door close as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Beggin’ your pardon?”
“As I mentioned, I… apprenticed under Professor Wilson. Was his protégé, so to speak, for seven years and privy to his most creative endeavors. And… well, I’m pretty sure I know which journal you’re after. And… and pretty sure where he might’ve stashed it.”
General Berricks pursed his lips and crossed the room back to the table. He looked to his two associates who stared up at him saying nothing but looking like they thought the idea had merit. After pacing slowly back and forth in front of the table for a few moments and staring out into nothing, Mr. Berricks turned to look at Weiss.
“And where is, pray tell, this secret place Wilson may have stashed his journal?”
“I’m… not going to share that. However, if that really mattered to you, you would’ve gone to that meeting yourself.” Durante straightened his back and put on a bluster he knew he really didn’t have. “Give me two days. I’ll retrieve it for you. And nobody else will have to die.”
Mr. Berricks was silent for a long moment and then snorted. “You’re a smarmy little shit, arentcha? Comin in here, tellin’ me what you’re gonna do. You’ve got a sack-full, I’ll give you that. It’s a good thing I believe you. Your apprenticeship with Wilson is in your record. Even says Pelican requested you personally.”
“I swear, I—”
Mr. Berricks lifted a hand to cut him short. Then made a gesture with his index and middle fingers. “Two days. I’ll give you your two days. After that, don’t bother coming back because I’ll be turnin my troops loose on that region. And nobody who ever laid eyes on that journal will be left to tell the tale. Don’t disappoint me. After all, you’ve got a damn good replacement down below.”
“Y, yes, sir!”
Durante fumbled back through the doorway and hurried back down to the engineering bay. He made sure his Second Administrator was up to date on the Pylons Project upgrades and got ready to head down to Chesik Villa. Within hours, he was in town looking for the ‘secret’ lab the professor had once told him about. Fortunately, he still had the tracer packed away in a trinkets box he kept with him on long trips. However, nobody in town knew anything about the professor’s back up lab and the tracer showed no signs of the tracking chip anywhere in town. which left him with an uncomfortable choice: checking the ranch house. If it wasn’t there, he’d have to head to the labs which wasn’t optimal since that would’ve meant a much longer haul than two days.
Of course, all of that was irrelevant now, he reflected sourly.
“I’M GOING TO die out here…” Durante muttered, book gripped in his hand and his eyes focused on the distance. His body ached and he was out of breath, sweat cascading off his brow. He took in a deep breath, knitted his brows, and screamed, “Fuck you, Berricks! Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!”
“Well, that’s not very nice,” a woman’s voice said from behind, freezing him cold. “Don’t think the horse deserves a fuckin’.”
Durante turned to find a mounted Aidele staring down at him, smile broad, and hands clasped on top of the saddle grip in front of her. Her horse snorted. She couldn’t have been more than ten feet behind him and he had no idea how he hadn’t heard her approaching.
“Your speechlessness is appropriate,” Aidele said pointing towards him. “And ah see ya have mah father’s journal. Wonder how ya got that.”
Durante swallowed gripping the book tighter, looking around struggling to say something, anything. But couldn’t.
“Ya look ragged, Mr. Weiss. Maybe we should get you some water. An’ a place ta rest.”
Now that he thought about it, he was pretty thirsty. He looked up at her, saw her reaching for a canteen, and sighed.
“I’m sorry.” She paused and looked at him as he spoke. “I’m sorry about your father. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry I didn’t just ask for the journal, explain why I needed it. I’m sorry for breaking into your home. I’m… sorry for everything!”
She raised an eyebrow. “Well, aintcha just a sad, sorry little man? How ‘bout we save those apologies until after we’ve got you out of the sun?”
“I… I can’t… I have to…” he shook his head. “But… I can’t, c
an I? Why else would he want this other than to wage war? Against us… against the Union… he has a dreadnought now, you know? Think… think what he could do with this…”
“I have no idea what yer rambling about…”
“Your father knew. He knew and that’s why he refused to hand it over. Knew what he was going to do… Pylons Project all along… they had no intention on meeting his requirements… did they?”
Aidele guided her horse closer and reached out a hand, “Here.”
Durante looked at her for a moment, her hand outstretched, Grey Lance covering her compassionate face, and he felt guilty. Guiltier than he’d ever felt before. Guiltier than when he’d abandoned the professor to take the internship in Philadelphia. Durante could see gentle eyes in Aidele’s face. The same as her father’s.
He looked at the book, nodded with a sigh, and, looking back to her, raised the journal to her hand.
“It belongs to you anyway.”
Aidele shook her head with a chuckle. “Not the journal, dumbass. Yer hand! So, I ken give ya a lift. If ya want ta go to Chesik, fine. Ah won’ stop ya. But let me help you first.”
He laughed. “Maybe I do need a ride. Chesik is a lot further away than I thought. Didn’t realize just how out of shape I really am!”
He started to lower the journal to take her hand when a shot rang out and the journal flew out of his grip. He looked down to it dumbfounded. Dust was flowing around it, a hole up in its corner. Huhn. That’s weird…
“Grab the book!”
He looked up to Aidele. She was looking to her right. He followed her gaze and saw six riders coming at them fast, shots ringing out, and a woman’s voice screaming after them. The riders stopped and looked back. Aidele looked down to Durante, her hand still outreached but her smile replaced by a snarl.
“Grab the gawddamned book!”
Durante grabbed it as Aidele rode by him grabbing him by the left arm, just as he stood back up, slinging him up into the saddle behind her. How she did it and why he didn’t fall in the process, he couldn’t say. Too much was happening too fast.
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