by S A Shaffer
“I still can’t believe you have a 2277 case of Royal Empress cigars.” Blythe said as he reached inside David’s satchel and pulled out the black cylinder. He grabbed either end of the cylinder and pulled. Nothing happened. Blythe hunched over and pulled again with considerable force. This time the top of the cylinder came free with a pop. Blythe looked inside and smiled, smelling the cigars one more time.
“Marvel upon marvel, David, you never cease to surprise me.”
He replaced the cap and handed the cigars back to David, but as David took the case, he let it fall to the floor and roll under the shelves.”
“Damn.” Blythe said. “No, no, let me.” He added when David started to bend down.
As Blythe lay on the vault floor and reached under the shelf at the exact same spot David had found the cigars, David reached beside the stack of classified Armstad Defense specs and grabbed the communication cylinder. As quick as he could, he stepped over Blythe and slipped it back into the box where Francisco found it. As Blythe sat up from the floor with the cigars in hand, David stood there with his hands clasped and a grateful look on his face.
“Hang on to those, lad.” Blythe said. “It would be a shame if they were to be lost.”
David nodded as sheepishly as he knew how.
Blythe walked him through the office with a hand on his shoulder and even opened the door for him. This time, as David smirked at the top of the stairs, he felt as though he’d earned it.
THE SILENT PRAYER
Marguerite awoke to the hum of voices around her, the sound of men whispering. Her eyes opened on their own account, at least, that’s how it seemed. She didn’t remember opening them herself. She lay in a bright room, so bright the light compelled her to squint, but now that her eyes were opened, she found she could not squint or close them.
Why was she in a bright room? How had she got there? It smelled sterile, like disinfectant. Rhythmic beeps, whistles, and hisses of a dozen different machines all added to the general din of the strange place. Yet, as her eyes prickled with the sting of a thousand needles, a reaction to the light she could not avoid, her memories returned. She’d been on an airship, yes, an airship in the mountains with her husband and her son.
The trickle of memories became a flood, and with them an excruciating pain in her heart. Her husband, her love, she watched him die, his body incinerated with their airship. She felt the pain of his passing, but she could not feel the tears that she knew she must be crying. In fact, other than the pain in her rending soul, she could not feel a thing. She could hear herself breathing, but she couldn’t feel it. She could hear the throb of her heart, but she couldn’t feel the blood pumping. But that was not what troubled her most of all.
Her son, her David. Where was her son! She remembered their perilous fall in the mountains. She remembered their combined weight was too much for their life balloon. She grew frantic, but to all the world, there was no outward sign of it. She screamed, but no sound escaped her mouth. She thrashed, but there was no movement. She persisted for some time, but eventually, her inner self grew fatigued, and she quieted her soul and listened.
The voices were still in the room, though she could not see them. But as she lay there beneath the bright lights, she began to understand them.
“… the lad should be out of surgery soon, the sooner, the better. They’ve been here too long already.”
“Martin, how could you say such a thing?” A second man said. “These two have lost so much in recent days. Have a heart.”
“I see turmoil every day.” She heard the first man say. “How are they any different than all the other sad cases that roll through our hospital? I’ve heard too many screams and seen too many broken bodies. I’ve exhausted all my sympathies. No, I find if I ignore my heart and focus on my job, I endure quite well.”
“But how will they live? Does that not concern you? The boy has but half a body left and the mother, none at all. Where will they go?”
They said more, but Marguerite was no longer listening. Half a body? They weren’t speaking of her son, they couldn’t be. He was young and healthy and still growing. She had seen him yesterday... or the day before. How long had it been? What had happened while she slept? Where was David? Merciful Jeshua, please let him be alright. She had to see him! She had to! She had to see him…
But her weakened body couldn’t withstand the stress, and she drifted away in a wakeful sleep. Voices visited her in her dreams, voices she did not know. Sounds of people walking roused her on several occasions, but she never roused for long.
Then she heard a voice she recognized, and the sound of it made her alert. It was David’s voice, and he was close.
“… What’s wrong with her? Why won’t she look at me?”
“She’s paralyzed, lucky to be alive, really. One of the worst breaks I’ve ever seen, several actually.”
“Will she be ok?”
“She’ll be fine. We are doing everything we can. Come along, it’s time to attach your prosthetic.”
“But I want to speak to her.”
“Um, no. It’s perhaps not a good time for that. She is very tired. Rest is what she needs right now. Come on, let’s away. Don’t you want your arm back.”
Then they were gone, and Marguerite was left with her thoughts. She felt weightless like the world was underwater. A nurse came in some time later and washed her. She panicked at first when the nurse forced a tube down her throat, but the gag never came. What had the doctor said? Paralyzed. She realized with horror then that this would be her method of feeding for the rest of her life. The weight of the word took effect as she struggled in vain to lift her arms. The nurse left, and Marguerite started crying as worry, turmoil, and loss threatened to drown her in their endless depths. But before she succumbed, she reached out to the only support she had left, an anchor in the storm her life had become.
Merciful Jeshua! Help Me! Please!
She prayed and prayed, and eventually her prayers brought her peace in the form of sleep.
◆◆◆
“Why has nothing been done for her?”
Marguerite came awake as she heard David’s voice again.
“Well, I’m afraid your hospital bills have wiped out whatever meager funds you possessed when you entered. On top of that, we already used the maximum amount of governmental support funds available per family. There simply wasn’t enough money to perform surgery on both you and your mother. And besides, your mother’s condition is tenuous, and the results of such an experimental operation are uncertain, at best. We selected you over her for surgery due to your age and your greater potential for society.”
“But… but you don’t understand, my father was a captain in the armada. We had indemnification for exactly this kind of incident.”
There was a sigh. “My boy, our records indicate that your father resigned from the armada nearly a season ago. We checked the records. His early retirement forwent all health indemnification or stipends.”
Marguerite felt herself burning up inside. He didn’t resign. He was forced out. They hadn’t told David because they didn’t want to upset him, especially not when he had his own troubles to deal with at the academy.”
“Oh… I didn’t know.” She heard David say. “But what about me? I’m in the academy. That has to be good for something?”
“Your benefits only apply to yourself, and only for incidents occurring during academy activities. You see… there simply isn’t anything we can do.”
“But where will we go?” David asked. “If you send us from here, how will my mother live?”
“There are many people sick in the Houselands.” The stranger sounded tired of the conversation. “The public hospital cannot expend more resources on one citizen simply because of the heartbreaking condition. We must spend our resources where we expect to see the greatest return.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” David said. “We are grateful for everything you’ve done so far.”
> There was a pause.
“If... If you need a place to go, might I suggest the Third District of Braxton?” The Doctor said. “Representative Blythe has recently implemented some social assistance programs. Maybe you’ll find help there.”
The voices moved away, and for a moment Marguerite thought she was alone. Then she saw him; she saw David as he walked over beside her bed, but she couldn’t turn her head to look him in the eyes. She could only see half of him, and the half she saw made her heart ache. His left arm was missing at the shoulder and replaced with a hideous mechanical monstrosity. It was oversized to his 14-cycle-old frame, and the weight of it made him slouch. Everything in her wanted to cry out, to hold her son, but she could not. All she could do was lie there as tears flowed down her cheeks. She heard more than felt him begin to brush her hair. She could tell he wanted to say something, even though she couldn’t see him, if only because she knew her son better than he knew himself. Then he sniffed a few times.
“Grandfather died last night.” He said as he choked off a sob. “The— The doctor said his heart gave out upon hearing the news of Father’s…” He sniffed again. “Don’t worry, mother. I’ll take care of us.” His voice took on a false cheer. Her wonderful son was trying to hide his own pain to comfort her. Marguerite felt her heart breaking.
“Everything is going to be fine. I… I’ll—” But whatever else David wanted to say choked off in a sob. She saw the room jostle as David fell into her chest and cried. He hugged her, but she could not hug him back. He spoke to her, and she said nothing. He came to her in pain, and she could not make him feel better with her kisses. She was powerless. Her boy needed her now, more than ever before, and all she could do was watch him suffer. Memories of running her fingers through his hair and holding him close plagued her immobile limbs. She could never do it again.
“I don’t know what to do, Mother. I don’t know where to go. We have no money, no benefactors. Any day now I expect I’ll receive a letter from the academy medically discharging me. All our family is dead. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do!”
He continued like that, clinging to her, shaking with the sobs that racked his body until at last, sleep took him. Sleep for him, but not for her. She could not sleep, not anymore. She doubted she ever would again.
Sometime later—she did not know how long—there came a knock at the door. David awoke and was careful not to rock the bed as he sat up. He stood and walked to the door. It was her doctor coming to check on her.
“Ah, David. How are we today? Your arm giving you any trouble? No, of course it’s not. I’m here to give your mother one last checkup before she’s good to go. You’ll both be free to get out of this dingy old hospital.” The man had a box under his arm that he sat aside as he checked some machines beside Marguerite’s bed. “Yes, I think she is doing marvelously. She’d tell you herself if she could.”
“When do we have to leave?” David asked.
“You can leave this afternoon if you wish. We are all good here. She’s fit as a fiddle.”
“No, when do we have to leave? When will the hospital kick us out?”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you stay any longer than absolutely necessary. Since both you and your mother are no longer in any immediate danger, and because there really isn’t anything else we can do for you… Well, you understand, don’t you?”
“Can we stay the night? Just one more?”
“There really isn’t any need. You are both in quite good health.”
“Just one more night, sir. I have no idea where we are going to go after this, and another night would give me enough time to make some arrangements.”
There was a pause, then the doctor signed. “I suppose I can delay signing off on your release for another night. But I’m afraid that’s it. You will have to leave by tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir, I appreciate it.”
Marguerite saw the doctor wave his hands in exasperation and walked back toward the door. He opened it, but before she heard it shut, the doctor spoke. “By the by, those packages arrived for you. A letter and the box beneath.” Then the door thumped shut, and he was gone.
Marguerite heard David lift the box and bring it over to her bed. He sat it beside her and tore open the letter on top. She could see his face as he read it. His eyes teared, but he didn’t let himself cry. He sniffed and let his hands fall to his sides as he looked at the ceiling. From her vantage point, she only saw the top of the letter, but the academy crest spoke volumes.
“Well, we both knew that was coming.” David said as he refolded the letter and laid it aside.
Next, he opened the box and looked inside. He gasped and pulled out the contents with eager fingers.
“It’s the strongbox from the airship. It survived.”
David had it out and open in an instant. Then he froze as he saw what was inside. Marguerite couldn’t see what it was, but then she caught a glimpse of the family revolver when he laid it on the bed. She had been with her husband when he purchased it from an Armstad vendor. While she never understood its value while he lived, it was invaluable to her now simply because it was his in life. The gun brought back sweet memories, or perhaps bittersweet.
David wrapped the pistol in a cloth and moved on to the other items in the strongbox. There was pocketbook with a modest amount of sterling, thank Jeshua for small favors, and her husband's old satchel. David held the bag for a long time, looking at it but not opening it. Finally, with a puzzled look on his face, he lifted the cover and pulled out the only thing inside: a book.
Marguerite watched him eye it for a moment as he turned it end over end. They had never told David about his father’s early retirement from the armada, nor had they told him their plans to pursue a future in politics. They were going to tell him everything at the end of their holiday in the mountains. It pained her to see David struggling to understand why his father had a PLAEE study book in his satchel. Father had taken the exam not three weeks previous, and the vacation was partly a celebration of his high marks. After a cycle as an aide, he hoped to steal a seat as a Braxton representative. It was all planned out. Now, it was merely a future that could never be.
She watched David flip through a few pages in the book, stopping when he found some marked pages. But it didn’t seem to be the pages that gave him pause. Instead, it was the bookmarks. David held up the photos that father had used as bookmarks. Marguerite couldn’t see them, but she knew her husband well enough to know he’d use pictures of his family to mark pages in his studies. David looked at the photos for a long moment before he reverently replaced them in the book. He had a look at the book cover with a contemplative expression. Then, he started pacing, and he continued to do so long into the night.
Marguerite caught glimpses of him as he walked back and forth. While she couldn’t help physically, she could still pray, an escape into the arms of Jeshua. She prayed even after David stopped pacing and inventoried all their possessions on the bed. He counted and recounted the few sterlings he’d found in the pocketbook. He wrapped and rewrapped the pistol in its cloth and stowed it in the satchel. Then, as the first light of dawn filtered through the room’s only window, David sat on the edge of the bed with the PLAEE book and started to read.
They left the hospital that day and moved to a city, though Marguerite could not tell which. She remembered the air smelling rank, and after a few nights of moving about, they settled in a tiny little apartment that overlooked a dirty city. From there, she lived her life, watching her son fight for his own in the midst of tragedy. At first, she did not want to live, knowing that her life was only a burden on an already suffering boy. But in time, she once again found solace in prayer, the one activity her debilitated body could manage with no difficulty at all. It was her fortress, her only hope.
EQUIPMENT UPGRADE
A week passed after David’s vault heist, as he liked to call it. However, after more than a season of idleness, a week trie
d his patience to its limit. Ever since Blythe ascended to the speakership, He found himself idle during the working hours. He arrived early for work purely on principle, though he hardly ever did anything. Most of the office staff never arrived at all, and nobody seemed to notice or care. This week David either spent his time pacing his workspace or fidgeting with random objects. He reorganized his desk twice. All the while, he wondered when Mit would contact him again, and what results his vault heist had wrought.
What made it all the worse was the knowledge that Francisco sat three doors down the hall and possessed all the answers David desired, yet he refused to capitulate any. Daily David visited the spy’s office, asking, in code of course, when he was to expect another assignment, or at the very least, news regarding the mysterious object he helped steal. But the exchanges always came to the same result.
“Have you heard any news from our mutual friend and the cigars I procured for him?” David asked on several occasions, and then he would proffer a very bold wink.
But Francisco never accommodated; rather, he feigned ignorance, and on occasion, spoke in riddles, saying:
“What the devil are you talking about?” or “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man. I only ever use prescription drugs.”
And so, after a week's time, David grew tired of asking and vowed he would wait in silence until the little snot decided to speak. But all that was about to change.
David walked back from the transportation facility, hands in pockets, and whistling a very off-key tune. He happened upon Ella as she ran out of the Lousy Lodgings steam lift.
“Oh, David, thank the maker.” She said in-between gasps. “Come quickly, it's your mother.”