Ascendant Unrest

by Matthew S. Cox

  Maya glared. “So you’d continue releasing Fade even when you are running the company?”

  “Of course.” Miss Shen looked at her as if she’d said the most idiotic thing imaginable. “There’s no reason not to. Especially since war is brewing with the California-Washington Commonwealth. I would consider sparing you only out of pity since you are so young, but I am not willing to negotiate on Fade. That is―”

  Bang.

  Maya jumped as the screen lit with a flash.

  Miss Shen stood frozen for a second before a trickle of blood ran from her lip. She emitted a faint wheeze and fell straight down out of frame. A blurry form in the background of the office walked closer, resolving into the visage of Vanessa Oman.

  “That took longer than I thought it would,” said Maya.

  “Well, dear.” Vanessa almost smiled, one eyebrow slightly raised. “I suppose I should thank you for exposing the traitor.”

  “I said your name on purpose, knowing your listeners would trip.”

  Vanessa leaned back, her haughty laughter reverberating in the basement of the Hangar. “I knew you had it in you to keep the company strong, in the family.”

  “Stop releasing Fade,” said Maya.

  “Oh, Maya.” Vanessa sighed. “You’re too soft-hearted. Perhaps someday you will understand how things work in this world. There are those of us at the top… and everyone else. Your little bout of unabashed idealism has made it problematic for certain operations to continue in this region. As a token of my gratitude for this little favor, I may decide to focus Xenodril sales away from the Eastern Seaboard for the foreseeable future. The Authority is weak, you know. There’s only so many left with any sense of—what is that they call it? Duty or honor?” She stifled another conceited laugh. “Ascendant will control the ECS soon enough, Fade or no Fade. Their ‘government’ is a mere re-enactment of the same petty and weak-minded fools who burned the world to ash. They had their chance and failed. The old government does not deserve to exist.”

  Maya trembled with anger. “It’s wrong to kill people just to make money.”

  “Is it?” asked Vanessa. “Violence will occur no matter what. Would you rather people kill each other over mythological gods, a sense of national identity, or slight variances in genetics?”

  “No one has to die at all!” yelled Maya. “The global population is only eighteen percent of what it was before the war. There’s been enough death. Please, stop!”

  “Ahh. My little idealist.” Vanessa flashed a patronizing smile. “Since you have helped me secure control of my company, I’ll leave you to your little safari if that is what you really want. When you get tired of living in the slum, you’re welcome to come home. You know the number. I’ll even let you bring your little friend.”

  Glaring, Maya breathed in and out hard through her nose, her chest heaving. Everything she thought to say sounded childish, so she only fumed.

  “Try not to catch too many fleas out there.” Vanessa leaned in. “Oh, and do not cross me again, child.”

  The vid call dropped, her image shrinking to a white line that collapsed to a tiny dot.

  Genna took a knee behind Maya, arm around her back. “You’d have a much better life there, baby. I can’t give you the kind of things you’re used to.”

  “Not better. Richer. More comfortable, but not better.” Maya spun into a hug. “That place is lonely, hollow, and superficial. I’d get depressed. Maybe I’d turn into a bitch like her after years of being ignored. Maybe I’d end up wild, on drugs, and be dead by twenty.”

  “Whoa.” Brennan leaned back. “This kid’s morbid.”

  “That’s not morbid. That’s cynical.” Maya smiled. “I watched too many movies.” She peeled off the fancy dress and changed back into her t-shirt, BDU pants, and sneakers before darting to the big octagon table and taking the seat next to Sarah. “I’m starving!”

  Pope had brought down a giant basket of breaded chicken fingers and French fries. Before she could grab any, Genna scruffed her and lifted her out of the chair.

  “Go wash your hands. You crawlin’ over dead people.” She set Maya down on her feet and gave her a prod toward a basin sink.

  Grinning, Maya complied, then rushed back to have dinner with her family.

  30

  End of Watch

  At a small memorial service company, in a cube-shaped room with walls the color of burnished pewter, Maya found herself once again wearing her expensive purple gown. Sarah stood at her side in a charcoal dress they’d picked up on the way. The store didn’t have anything black in her size. Besides, dark grey, she might actually wear again. Sneakers felt disrespectful for the setting, rubber-soled sandals even more so.

  In the Sanctuary Zone, limited manufacturing produced modern apparel, but no company bothered making formal wear, especially in kid sizes. Only a small handful of executives had any interest in such things anymore, while everyone else merely tried to survive. Everything Vanessa had stocked Maya’s old closet with had been custom ordered from individual makers in Europe, the only explanation for its cost. Despite Sarah’s protest at ‘wasting money,’ Genna got the girls plain black ballet flats.

  Among a small group of veterans wearing a mixture of camo, combat boots, and ordinary street clothes, Maya felt conspicuously overdressed, a glimmering butterfly perched on a branch among moths. Only one vet, a fiftyish man with a scar down the left side of his face and a military haircut, had worn a suit—rather a dress uniform. Wrinkled and with a small rip or two, it appeared to predate the war, but he’d kept it in good enough shape for a funeral. The man approached to offer his condolences to Sarah.

  Maya stared at his cufflinks, gold discs depicting a bird perching on a globe with an anchor behind it. A thin gold nameplate by his suit jacket’s pocket bore the name ‘Cabrera.’

  “So sorry for your loss.” He held Sarah’s hand for a moment. “Sergeant Hawthorne was a good man and a fine soldier.”

  “Thank you,” said Sarah.

  Cabrera took a step to the right, exchanged a few words with Pope, which included some chuckling, and moved on.

  For the better part of two hours, Maya sat in the front row of a bank of padded chairs, with Sarah beside her, staring at a small black table bearing a silver urn with an engraved US flag above the words: ‘SSG William R. Hawthorne – US Army. Oct 3 2059 – Jul 17 2094.’

  She’d expected Sarah to be a mess, but the girl remained calm and quiet.

  A silver monolith, a slab the size of a door, had a monitor at head level displaying a continuous series of images. All showed The Dad at various places and times in his military career. He looked like a teenager in most of them. Maya watched it until the pictures looped.

  “It’s all Army stuff,” whispered Maya.

  Sarah nodded. “My mother disappeared when I was five. Dad never talked about any other family. No one had any pictures except the soldiers.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Sarah tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and sighed at the urn. “Who has time to take pictures when they’re trying to stay alive?”

  “He did the best he could for you, even with, umm, mental issues.” Maya glanced left at an eruption of subdued laughter among the soldiers. “I’d rather have had him for a father than Vanessa for a mother. Twice over.”

  Sarah managed a weak smile.

  They sat in silence for a little while more until another man, well into his sixties, walked in wearing a sharp Army dress uniform and carrying an actual paper book. He circled around to the space between the seats and the urn, looked left and right, and approached the front row.

  “Excuse me, are you Sarah?”

  “Yes.” She looked up at him.

  He took a knee, and her hand, patting it. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” she half whispered.

  “My name is Liam Anderson. I was the unit chaplain where your dad spent a few of his years over in that abominable place. He whil
ed away many hours talking to me, trying to figure out what God’s plan for him was.”

  Maya glanced at him. If God exists, he’s an asshole for letting us nuke ourselves. She kept a pleasant smile but said nothing.

  Sarah sniffled, nodding.

  “Would it be all right with you if I said a few words?” asked the chaplain.

  “Yeah. Dad would like that.” She looked down.

  He bowed his head, stood, and took two steps back before clearing his throat. “Hello, everyone. I’m Lieutenant Anderson. I served as a base chaplain for the 7th Cavalry based at Pujon.”

  A few hats came off.

  “I won’t take up much of your time. Sergeant Hawthorne, as were many of you, was thrown into an awful situation when he wasn’t much more than a boy. They say that most people these days don’t have a lot of use for what God has to say about anything, but Billy always looked to Him for hope. I suppose it came with his Irish blood”―chuckles emanated from the gathered―“but there aren’t too many people who can go into a situation like that and not at least hope He is watching out for us.

  “Billy and I spent quite a few hours talking about the whys of things. Why was there war, why were we still fighting after command went silent, why were we still even in Korea. There’s a lot we don’t know. But I do know that Billy was a fearless protector of the freedoms we all hold dear. Not once did he ever wish he could just go home and forget his duty. He did not enjoy having to kill, he did not savor the fight, but he believed that our way of life was worth defending.”

  Murmurs of agreement filled the room.

  “So, if you’ll put up with me for a moment more, I’d like to offer a prayer for him.”

  Maya put an arm around Sarah, noticing tears on her face. The chaplain opened his book and read from it, stuff about welcoming into a kingdom and whatnot. She tuned most of it out, focused on trying to make her best friend feel better.

  Eventually, Lieutenant Anderson thanked everyone, closed the book, and mingled with the small group of soldiers.

  Had they taken the van, Maya would’ve changed out of the dress on the ride home. The funeral service had been an arduous three-hour process. The two hours spent afterward at The Hangar watching the adults drink had been worse. Sarah spent the whole time hiding under a booth table, alternatively staring into space and crying. Maya remained at her side, content to evade the attention of everyone else.

  They rode an e-bus packed with commuters back to the Habitation District. People kept staring at Maya, making her feel conspicuous. As soon as they got home, Maya ran to the bedroom and changed. Even though the dress reminded her of Vanessa, it didn’t seem right to leave something so expensive lying on the floor. She hung it up in the closet, alongside her mother’s camo tops, black T-shirts, and a body armor vest with a dimple in the chest.

  With a gasp, Maya picked at the spot a bullet had struck, lost to a momentary tremble at how much of a difference in her life that vest had made. She ran out and sprinted down the hall to the living room where Pope and Genna had collapsed on the sofa, still rambling about old Army stories.

  Maya dove into a hug, clinging.

  “Baby?” Genna raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

  “I saw the armor in your closet.” She snuggled tighter.

  “Aww.” Genna kissed her atop the head and put an arm around her.

  They continued sharing―edited for children―stories of things that happened in Korea, mostly about watching dumbasses do stupid things. Their memories varied from the whimsical (someone losing a Kevlar helmet down a latrine) to the OMG (someone smoking in the wrong place and almost setting off a fuel depot explosion that would’ve destroyed half a base).

  After a while, Maya’s reawakened fear of losing her mother calmed enough for her to realize Sarah hadn’t come back. She sat up straight and looked around. “Mom? Where’s Sarah?”

  “She was right behind us up the stairs,” said Pope. “Think she might be down the hall.”

  “Should we leave her alone?” asked Genna. “She’s only eleven.”

  “Thought you planned on taking her in?” Pope raised an eyebrow.

  Genna slugged him in the shoulder. “Jackass. That’s not what I mean. I mean alone right now. Not livin’ on her own.”

  He grinned. “She needs a little time, I bet. The girls have had a rough week.”

  “I’m going to check on her.” Maya slid to her feet. “Okay?”

  Genna nodded and leaned against Pope. “All right, but I want the two of you back here before dark.”

  Maya walked out into the hall. Banging, drilling, and hammering echoed in the main stairwell, the workers still repairing the giant hole on the ninth floor. Eager to get away from the noise, she hurried down to the corner apartment and found the door halfway open. Fearing another fake worker had done something, she rushed inside.

  Her growing worry burst into a cascade of sadness at the sight of Sarah on the couch, curled up on her side in the middle of The Dad’s well-worn spot, crying into a small green pillow. She hadn’t even taken her shoes off. Maya pushed the door closed and approached, easing herself to sit beside her. After a few minutes of Sarah not reacting in any way to her presence, Maya crawled up to lay behind her, putting an arm over her.

  Sarah let go of the pillow with one hand and grasped Maya’s.

  Perhaps an hour passed, the silence trading places on and off with construction upstairs and Sarah’s sniffling. Maya continued to hold her. A few times, she opened her mouth, but changed her mind. All the words that came to her sounded either cold and clinical, or stupid. She hoped her presence would be enough to make Sarah’s pain more bearable.

  “Is Genna looking for me?” whispered Sarah.

  “She is worried about you, yeah.” Maya shrugged the shoulder she didn’t lay on. “I think they want a little time together. She didn’t send me. I was worried.”

  “Thanks.” Sarah sniffled. A few minutes passed without words before she let out a teary chuckle. “Guess I won’t be feeding everyone cheese sandwiches anymore. They only came over to eat when no one else had food anyway. I’m the only one who liked those things.”

  “I think they’re good too.”

  Sarah scratched at her shin. “So, they like each other?”

  “I think so.” Maya leaned close, whispering at Sarah’s ear, “Genna and Pope could still get cheese sandwiches. They’re vets too.”

  Sarah burst into a fit of cry-laughing. “Yeah….”

  “Hey.” Maya glanced around. “Would it be okay if we all stayed here instead? Genna’s apartment is tiny. Only one bedroom.”

  “Huh?” asked Sarah.

  “That way, this is still your home. We’d have our own room instead of having to sleep on the floor. Genna wants us home before dark. She’s your mom too now.”

  Sarah shifted, peering back at her. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Maya nodded. “You’re officially my sister now.”

  “Wow,” whispered Sarah. “That’s so nice of her.”

  Maya prodded her. “Come on. What else would we do? You didn’t think we’d leave you living on your own, did you?”

  Sarah shrugged. “I didn’t wanna assume, but, I hoped.”

  “So, do you want to keep this apartment? We don’t have to. It’s okay if it makes you too sad to be here… or too scary.”

  “Scary?” Sarah let go of the pillow and wiped her face with her free hand. “Why would it be scary?”

  “’Cause of what happened. The shooting.”

  Sarah took in a big breath and let it out slow. “It’s a little scary, but Dad didn’t die here. The sofa still smells like him. It’s like he’s still around. I’d like to stay here if Genna doesn’t mind moving.”

  “Okay. The other apartment is smaller than this, and the fridge still stinks.”

  “Genna could’ve asked me if it was okay for her to move in here. She didn’t have to send you. I’m not afraid of her.” Sarah again looked back over her sh
oulder at Maya.

  “Yeah, she could have.” Maya grinned. “But she doesn’t know we’re moving yet.”

  fin

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading Ascendant Revolution!

  I’d also like to thank Eugene Teplitsky for the amazing cover art!

  Many thanks to Olivia Swenson for her wonderful assistance editing this novel, and Nina Post for proofreading.

  About the Author

  Originally from South Amboy NJ, Matthew has been creating science fiction and fantasy worlds for most of his reasoning life. Since 1996, he has developed the “Divergent Fates” world, in which Division Zero, Virtual Immortality, The Awakened Series, The Harmony Paradox, and the Daughter of Mars series take place. Along with being an editor at Curiosity Quills press, he has worked in IT and technical support.

  Matthew is an avid gamer, a recovered WoW addict, Gamemaster for two custom RPG systems, and a fan of anime, British humour, and intellectual science fiction that questions the nature of reality, life, and what happens after it.

  He is also fond of cats.

  Visit me online at:

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewSCoxAuthor

  Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/mscox

  Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/matthewcox10420/

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7712730.Matthew_S_Cox

  Email: mcox2112@gmail.com

  Other books by Matthew S. Cox

  Divergent Fates Universe Novels

  Division Zero series

  Division Zero

  Lex De Mortuis

  Thrall

  Guardian

  The Awakened series

  Prophet of the Badlands

  Archon’s Queen