The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution)

by Mike Arsuaga

  While he spoke, the limo raced upon on a moped in its lane. Farther ahead on the inner lane, a tractor-drawn wagon full of baled hay lumbered along.

  Without missing a syllable in his narrative, Ethan eased the car into the lane with the oncoming hay wagon and floored it. The acceleration pressed Lorna back into the seat. In a blur, the moped flew by the window. Then, with a casual turn of the steering wheel the other way, the car returned to the passing lane about ten yards ahead of the wagon, a little close for Lorna but everyone else took it in stride.

  “Bobby’s always up for a get-together.” Cynthia completed the repair to her hairdo and returned the mirror to Ethan’s use.

  Ed’s deep murmur, like distant sea noise, filled the compartment. “True, but I think Toby will be more interested in spending alone time with Jamie and the girls.”

  “I guess I can’t blame him,” Cynthia said. “Anyway, I hope Bobby brings one of his cameras so we can get some good pictures. He’s the best photographer in the family.”

  “Yes, none of that cell phone photography for him,” Ethan added.

  Ed stared straight ahead. After a while he spoke with reflection, and if Lorna read him right, a hint of regret. “Yes, getting together on the island would have been nice.”

  No matter what Ed told Lorna about how much he believed in hybrid acceptance and making the best of their time together, his eyes showed the sad flicker of guilt every parent of the community had for bringing hybrids into the world; guilt that the professional counseling and Twelve-Step programs ameliorated, but would never eradicate. From the way his voice trailed off, he must have relived a memory of his sons when they were children, in particular regarding the one who’d live and die before his father and brothers were middle-aged.

  “Sixty years ago, when rising tides undermined most of the structures at the NASA space complex, it was abandoned. The company rebuilt here, several miles inland,” Ed explained for Lorna’s benefit.

  Lorna glimpsed the sun brightened southern face of the vehicle assembly building when they humped over a bridge crossing the St. John’s River, to be lost behind a wall of trees upon descent. Brush growing to the edge of the road slab, hurtled by in a green blur. A few curves later, the road broke into a cleared area. A barbed wire fence glinted ahead in the sunlight. Beyond, the vehicle assembly building towered above the rest of the landscape, a white-sided box dwarfing every other structure, including the tallest of the pine trees.

  “Slow down, Ethan,” Karla said from her corner of the backseat. “The sentry post is just up the way.”

  “I see it, Aunt Karla,” Ethan answered in the tone of strained patience the young express toward a beloved but tedious elder.

  The guard recognized Ed and Ethan by sight, and waved them in. The other cars were detained for identification. As Ethan gusted away from the checkpoint, the cars left behind shrunk to black toys trimmed in chrome. The road stretched out straight ahead, a white ribbon of concrete. On either side, files and rows of wind turbines faced the oncoming sea breeze. Each was a sixty-foot-tall, white steel pole supporting a three-bladed windmill.

  “Six more miles to go,” Ethan announced.

  Ed shifted position, presenting the generators with a wide sweep of his arm, releasing the powerful, virile scent of an Alpha into the car interior. His scent was beyond Karla’s olfactory range, but Lorna alerted, followed by Cynthia. “Those were one of Father’s best ideas,” Ed explained. “Today we’re a net exporter of power to the grid.”

  They crossed a bridge spanning a lake. Homes with lawns sloping to the shoreline amid a collection of piers and boathouses filled the perimeter. A dozen boats, both powered and sail, lolled on the black surface under the bright but mild sun. In the distance spread the fresh green of a golf course. On a small ridge, a clubhouse peeked above a surrounding nest of Queen Palms.

  “There’s Toby’s house,” Cynthia said, pointing to a large rectangular block-and-stucco structure with a pyramidal roof, larger than most of the others sitting on the lakefront.

  “Nice,” Lorna answered. There weren’t many of such quality in Orlando anymore.

  They crossed a second checkpoint and soon passed rows of bungalows. The walls and the roofs appeared bright and new, not like the dinginess infiltrating the edges of in-town complexes. “All five thousand employees live on the compound,” Ethan said.

  “It’s a city of eleven thousand,” Ed added with a touch of pride. “All of it lies within the second checkpoint. Only top management lives outside.”

  They passed clusters of shops interspersed among town squares. Three traffic lights later, the town fell behind. Then Lorna saw the landing strip. Upon topping a rise, the runway stretched ahead, white against the greenery, for over two miles. Along one side, a small crowd gathered around an open grandstand. Twenty or so cars and mopeds parked behind the structure. Farther along, a control tower appeared from behind a grove of the tallest pines she’d ever seen.

  Spotting Lorna’s interest in the trees, Ethan said, “Those are a project into genetically engineering for rapid growth.”

  “That’s a lot of printer paper.”

  “They mature in half the time. Our Brazilian lab is designing genotypes to replenish the rain forests.”

  “Aren’t those the trees Gen-El claims can grow out of control?” Lorna asked.

  Ed weighed in. “The same. And they have just enough dimwitted legislators convinced to keep the project stalled.”

  “Well, can they?”

  Ed grimaced. “Of course not. Their sole function is to create a renewable resource.”

  “Then you need to get out there and tell the world your side of the story.”

  While Ethan smirked in support, Ed considered the suggestion.

  Ahead was the control tower, a tan metal cylinder supporting a bulb shaped structure, like a bubble of blown glass at the end of a pipe. Ethan skirted the parked vehicles and grandstand, turning onto a gravel road leading to the tower. The rocks crunched under the tires, or splattered against the fenders.

  “We’re here,” Ed announced. The car stopped with a last squeal of brake band. Jumping out ahead of Ethan, he opened the door for Lorna.

  The control tower bulb had three stories. The top level contained the actual air traffic control personnel, along with their equipment. An observation deck, where everyone gathered, filled the next floor down. The lowest level contained a restaurant.

  Upon arrival, Lorna put her slim hips into a dainty little chair that just fit, and which commanded a view of the complete runway. Beside her, Ed reserved another chair for Toby’s wife Jamie while he stood behind, placing a hand on Lorna’s shoulder. The others deployed around them. Presently, Thomas led the rest of the party in.

  “Look,” Ethan exclaimed after a few minutes. “There it is!”

  A large, freckled tanned index finger pointed to a flawless blue section of the sky revealing nothing Lorna could see, but the monitors around the room tracked the inbound shuttle, confirming Ethan’s sighting. Soon, a silver triangle floating on the air like a kite came in sight, leveling out then touching down with a large trailing display of multicolored parachutes. The shuttle stopped a couple of hundred feet from the tower. A fussy little yellow vehicle sputtered up to the nose, attached a hitch, and towed the silver-and-white craft to a gate cut into the low chain link fence separating the runway from the tower. When the machine stopped, Jamie let out a squeal somewhere between joy and relief. She was a hybrid, about forty years old.

  “Where’s Bobby?” asked Ed of no one in particular while the first of the shuttle crew stepped into the daylight.

  “Right here, Dad,” said a voice from the rear.

  Lorna turned to see six feet of hard, articulated muscle with black hair cut off at the nape. Buried in the slits for eye sockets, quick brown eyes peered out. Two meaty lips planted in the long, rectangular face twisted into a fetching half-smile. Bobby was the youngest, but at thirty-six, he appeared about the same age
as his father and older than Ethan. At the sight of his youngest son, Ed rushed over, embracing him. “I didn’t know if you were coming. You didn’t say.”

  “Things get so busy. Sometimes I lose track.”

  Ed accepted the excuse. “Well, no matter. You’re here now. Come, I want you to meet someone.” Contrasting with Ed’s enthusiasm, Lorna spotted a degree of reserve from Thomas. The cop in her filed away the dynamic.

  She stood up, shoulders back and chest forward as she’d learned in Police Academy, extending a hand. “You must be Father’s new friend.” He bypassed the offered hand and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. In the process, he brushed a breast. “I’ve so looked forward to meeting you.” At his closest point of approach, Lorna sensed his attraction to her. He wasn’t so bad, either.

  “Here,” Ed gushed, proud of Lorna, and happy she hit it off with Bobby. He pulled up another chair. “Sit here by us.”

  Lorna rearranged her position to accommodate Bobby. In doing so, her glance fell on Thomas and Karla. Body language implied disagreement with the preferential treatment Ed showed to his youngest son. Jamie White, standing beside two lissome pre-teen hybrid daughters, observed with unabashed bewilderment; after all, wasn’t this supposed to be her husband’s moment?

  By now, the crew had cleared the decontamination station on the ground floor, showered, and changed clothes. The trip from Moonbase took two days, but spending the whole time in a space suit made anyone pretty nasty. The elevator from below opened, and a medium-sized man stepped into the room. He had Ed’s coloring, and red hair that fell over a high brow in a forelock, a round, almost boyish face, smooth and pink as a baby’s butt, and gray eyes. His features lacked the angularity of Ethan or their father. Standing next to Jamie, he appeared to be about half her age, but the difference didn’t seem to matter. They flew into each other’s embrace, with the girls crowding in.

  Bobby spoke first. “Tell us, brother, how are The Greats?” Taking snapshots with a large lens digital camera, he winked at Lorna, explaining, “For the archives.”

  Toby glanced up from his wife’s embrace just as Bobby snapped his picture. “They’re doing well.” He blinked testily at the flash. “Great-mom Sam is still feisty as ever. She complains Great-pop Jim’s slowing down in old age, and doesn’t meet her needs. She threatens to trade him in for a younger mate. He reminds her that the road runs both ways. “They’re joking, of course. They live for each other.”

  Ed and Ethan smirked. The rest of the family, even the young daughters, paid no more than routine attention to Toby’s casual recounting of his great-grandparent’s characterization of their sexual needs. Again, Lorna remembered most vampires or lycans didn’t think twice about this kind of conversation, even in front of children.

  “Well,” Ed asked, “What was so important Great-pop Jim needed you to deliver in person and not use secure communications?”

  Toby threw back his forelock, giving Lorna a better view at a pair of large, round eyes with a perpetually inquisitive expression to them, like Great-pop’s, somebody told her later. Reaching for an accordion folder tucked under an arm, he pulled out some papers. When they were halfway out, he stopped, staring at Lorna.

  “Father, Great-pop was correct to insist a family member come to retrieve what I brought. This information is sensitive, perhaps critical to the well-being of the corporation and all of The Others.” He still held Lorna in a wary stare. “I think we should discuss this among immediate family first. We can include outsiders later, on a need-to-know basis.” The papers fell back into the folder.

  “What are you saying?” Ed demanded.

  “Speaking bluntly, Father, do we know your friend well enough to trust her with sensitive information?”

  Lorna’s eyes cut toward Toby with a fierce glare.

  “Ms. Winters has demonstrated impeccable loyalty to our family, brother,” Ethan said. “Her skills as a veteran police detective could be of great service.”

  “She is an outsider,” Toby maintained, ignoring Lorna’s building hostility.

  “I’ll wait in the car.” Lorna started to leave, but Ed’s hand shot out, restraining her arm with a powerful grip.

  “Enough of this bickering.” His voice boomed, but with restraint. “She stays.”

  “I think we should all trust Father’s judgment,” Bobby added. “He hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”

  Lorna nodded with appreciation at the rangy dark man with the manicured yellow-nailed fingers enmeshed on his lap. Bobby answered with a toothy half-smile, followed by a quick wink. His charm gave her further insight why Ed favored him, at least over the irascible returning astronaut.

  “Let it go, Toby,” interjected Ethan. “Our father has ruled on the matter. The decision is made.”

  Toby grumbled, while bringing out the papers. Lorna wondered how much the constant jostle for pre-eminence existing among the three brothers fuelled the skirmish she’d witnessed.

  “We don’t need to sit through all of this.” Jamie had probably witnessed many similar scenes over the years. “I’m having lunch in the lounge with the girls. Anyone else with us?”

  A crowd of more distant relatives followed Jamie. Lorna, Ed, the three sons, Karla, Cynthia, and Thomas remained. They pulled up chairs crowding around one of the small lounge tables, all except for Lorna, who remained in her original place, detached from the others a few seats away. Toby removed the papers, placing them in a stack on the tabletop, careful to square the corners so the sheets were in perfect alignment. He glanced up at Lorna. The sternness on his face reminded her she still had a chance to leave. With determination, she glared back, not budging.

  Toby began the presentation. “Last February, Great-pop told us he’d discovered something new in the Malvina Papers. Two weeks later, I received a message in which he confirmed the discovery. It was too important to risk transmitting electronically.”

  “Since we can penetrate X-10’s encrypted traffic, we should assume they have similar capabilities with respect to ours,” Ed explained.

  “Conveniently,” Toby continued, “I already had a scheduled visit to Mars in connection with other matters, and agreed to retrieve the information.”

  “Why didn’t Great-pop send it by courier, or even in a sealed package?” Thomas asked.

  “Because, dear uncle, he wanted to take no chances of a compromise.”

  Karla’s patience reached the end. “Then, what is it that was so important?”

  “Great-pop found the names of the original First Parents, along with other things that I’ll explain.” Toby riffled the papers, pulled up a sheet and read. “The male was Uliffe, a lycan.” He paused to consult the sheet again. “The female, a vampire, was named Kathia.”

  “That’s not right,” Lorna said. Her voice, outside the center of the group, sounded distant, seeming to come from above like a divine revelation. “The names aren’t right.”

  Every face at the table turned toward her. Toby’s sarcastic taunt followed. “And you learned this from where?”

  Lorna crossed her legs, drawing the pants of her business suit tight on thighs and hips, a sight which captured Ed’s attention along with Bobby’s. “I don’t understand how I know, but I do. His name is Aliff. Hers is Cithara.”

  “Aliff, Aliff,” Ed mused aloud, “Where have I heard that name?”

  “I’ll tell you later, but those are the correct names.”

  While the crowd mulled over Lorna’s announcement, Ed continued the debriefing with Toby. “Besides being the original First Parents, is there anything else Great-pop told you about them?”

  “Oh yes. Much more,” Toby answered, the earlier bickering forgotten for the moment. “In her last decades Kath–ah–Cithara became a priestess at an oracle named Oom located near modern day Pamplona.”

  Karla said. “A news article about excavations there crossed my desk recently.”

  Ed sat up. “We need to find everything there is about the site. Please make a note, Thoma
s.”

  Thomas, the consummate personal assistant and non-technocrat scribe, wrote something in the notebook he kept in a vest pocket.

  Toby continued. “Aliff and Cithara spent their lives together. They were a pair bond for at least two hundred years and had over a dozen children. She became priestess after he died in about 220 A.D. In her time, she made over a thousand prophesies.”

  “Prophetesses are a dime a dozen in history,” Bobby said. “What makes her special?”

  “Great-pop completed a translation of documents written in archaic Basque. This is the first time they’ve been seen in English,” Toby said. “I have them with me. Here are two of the most interesting.” He spread two sheets on the table. On each, Jim White wrote a six-line passage.

  The first one read:

  God’s eye will blink in the lands at the Eastern edge

  Of the world,

  Brought in the belly of a silver bird,

  Her name is Gay

  Life will be displaced from the land below.

  The war will end for a time.

  The second one read:

  A pestilence from Man will be blamed on God’s doing.

  Many men will die.

  The Shadow of Darkness will return.

  God will not be mocked

  And the perpetrators will be consumed

  As nations dissolve.

  “The first passage is about the Atomic Bomb falling on Japan,” Lorna said. “I wrote a paper on it in college. The man in charge of the mission named the airplane carrying the bomb “Enola Gay” after his mother.”

  “What’s the second one about?” Ed wondered aloud.

  “She refers to the Great Plague,” Thomas said. “For over thirty years, the world believed it to be a natural occurrence, until a man named Ruben Shad proved members of the Department of Homeland Security started it. Sixty percent of the victims were males. Isn’t the world worse off now than before the plague, not to mention most of the great nation states are broken up?”