The Risen Gods

by Frank Kennedy

  “Damn,” James said. “An honest-to-goodness bro. Going to take some getting used to, dude.”

  Valentin winced. “If I might, James. What is a dude?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Ah, it’s a term of affection. Right? You say it to your best friends or… well, a brother.”

  “And this was common vernacular on your Earth?”

  “I grew up in rural Alabama. I could write a book.”

  “Then perhaps this is a good time to tell me. We are brothers. We cannot afford to be strangers. Tell me of Alabama, and I will tell you of life on Ark Carriers and battles I fought on the colonies. And anything else that interests you.”

  James lighted upon a fun idea when he looked down at his full-body training suit.

  “I’m betting you could turn me into a soldier a hell of a lot faster than a holograph. There are things I need to experience.”

  Valentin slapped him on the shoulder. “I am beginning to like you, James. Your bravado is worthy of our family name.”

  “Good. Glad you didn’t kill me. Let’s talk turkey, dude.”

  They retreated to Valentin’s personal quarters and talked until after sunrise. As he listened to war stories, James stirred with an excitement as never before. The Jewel showed him a field of battle where blood flowed like a river. And something else…

  A new presence.

  A voice.

  A name on the air.

  Her name.

  A whisper in his ear, a kiss on his cheek.

  And then, within minutes, the universe opened its floodgates.

  25

  New Stockholm City, NAC

  N OW THIS WAS MICHAEL COOPER’S VISION of the future. A beautiful city sparkling in the sunlight, immaculate ivory streets, flying vehicles, overhead tube lines whisking people between glass temples with contours that defied the laws of physics. Tall, imposing men in form-fitting suits; women in either tight uniforms or floral-patterned saris. Many citizens relaxed on benches, meditating to a bubble of violin-infused music. Others walked past engaged in holocube conversations, their lips moving but their voices muted to passersby.

  Just being out in the sun again—he thought the temperature was pushing the high 70’s—gave Michael a sense of calm he had not experienced in three days. He walked the central avenue a block from the landing where he spent the night, enthralled with the city. He wore the fabric and tri-crested symbol of the Solomons, loaned to him by Rikard. A few eyebrows raised as he passed, their surprise at the sight of a “proto-African” no longer fazing Michael. The uniform’s fabric was the softest he ever wore.

  “It’s a hell of a thing,” he told Sammie, who walked abreast, still dressed in green and magenta. “You Chancellors got some serious anger issues, but you build a wicked crazy town.”

  “I take that as a compliment, sort of,” she said. “I understand why you think that way about us, Michael. But you’re right, this is beautiful. More than I ever dreamed.”

  He stopped. “Oh, yeah. What was I thinking? This is the first time for you, too. I mean, I reckon your folks told you stories.”

  “They tried, but they weren’t allowed to bring anything through the fold that might expose them. Their stories were like fairy tales.”

  “Still, it has to be great to finally see it. Be a part of it.”

  A sparkle appeared in Sammie’s eyes for the first time since he met her. Yet Michael also sensed heartbreak.

  “I should be walking with my parents. They were so excited to show me the Collectorate. They were so proud of what the Chancellors accomplished.”

  “Look, you don’t have to explain…”

  “Michael, I know what you thought of Daddy. The things he said to us before he died were horrible. But that wasn’t him. If he’d known what would happen, he would have protected you from the others. He was a good man, but he hated to lose. Ever. And he lost.”

  Michael sensed the beauty of the day slipping away.

  “It’s OK.” He wrapped an arm around her. “We all make crazy-ass choices. You got no parents; my folks got no son. We’ve been through some kind of hell. I reckon the only choice we got is straight ahead.”

  As they crossed a wide avenue, eyes shifted. Sammie agreed with Michael’s forward-thinking but also suggested he remove his arm.

  “You’re sweet, Michael, but I don’t think people appreciate Chancellors and Solomons being so close in public.”

  “Yep. No sense stirring the pot. Just be glad for the walkabout.”

  He was ecstatic when told he might explore the city in relative safety. Ophelia Tomelin put on hold plans to retrieve the Ukrainian Jewel and Jamie after the Ukrainian vanished. She had no idea on a new timetable, leading Michael to make demands.

  At his insistence, Ophelia ordered Brey to take Michael to the shuttle and hook him up to a Tier 1 Educate amp after breakfast. The program allowed Michael to digest fundamentals about Earth, its history, politics, economics, and social structure. He joked with Sammie, suggesting he’d be getting the Wikipedia overview of another universe.

  “I have a feeling it’s going to make Wikipedia look like a little kid’s picture book,” she replied.

  She was correct. Michael emerged after two hours overwhelmed, as if he crammed five years of school into one class.

  “Holy crap,” he said upon his return. “That’s the way to learn! How many years did I lose in that boring damn school? No wonder you people are off fighting wars and making fortunes by the time you’re fourteen.”

  The information organized itself and became easily retrievable rather than falling into endless fragments of names, places, and terms. He saw the data, as if it were floating in a holocube. He sorted through, finding the most remarkable bits and couldn’t stop talking about them, before the walk and during.

  “Did you know there are only two hundred forty cities on the planet?” He rattled off facts to Sammie a few blocks after suspicious eyes stopped turning their way. “Almost everybody lives in these urban areas, and the rest of the world… hell, the Chancellors just gave it back to nature centuries ago.”

  “Yes. My parents told me…”

  “About a thousand years ago, this Earth was… well, our old Earth. Crowded, polluted. A big damn mess. So, after the migrations to the colonies cleared off ninety percent, the Chancellors moved to a few cities and let nature take over everywhere else. Saved the planet.”

  “Yes, I heard. Daddy said…”

  “Who knew? Chancellors are hard-core tree huggers.”

  “It’s our planet, Michael. We earned it, so we have to protect it. No different than on any of the colonies.”

  “Hmm. Wonder if they’re doing as good? Didn’t learn anything about them in the program.”

  “Probably best to go one planet at a time.”

  “Yeah. It’s a big damn Collectorate. Brey told me the program was for five-year-olds. It’s the start of their schooling. Go figure. Can you imagine how much more there is to learn?”

  Sammie pointed to a bench that looked inviting.

  “I can,” she said, taking a seat. “And that scares me, Michael.”

  “Hold the phone. You… scared?”

  “My parents did their best, but it was all verbal. They wrote nothing. Instead, they simplified concepts and dumbed-down history. They wanted me to feel like a true Chancellor in the making, but they always assumed they’d return here with me.”

  Michael nodded. “I get it. They figured they’d be here to hold your hand as you learned.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, I reckon they did a mighty good job because you ain’t shown the first sign of hesitation since we arrived. All that yapping you and Brey had about how the fold causes earthquakes? And then Ophelia taking you under her wing?”

  “I’ve been lucky, Michael. I know those sciences because the laws of physics are the same. Daddy checked out books from the library, and we read them together. But this…” She took a deep breath as she gazed at the city’s wond
ers. “I can’t fake it forever, Michael.”

  “Just take the courses. You’ll have everything you need.”

  She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

  “I love you, Michael. You’re so funny even when you don’t try.”

  “Excuse me? What’s the joke?”

  “Look at us.” She pointed to their clothes. “I’m a Chancellor. You’re not. Different expectations. Surviving in the Chancellory isn’t about knowledge, it’s about manipulation. It’s about strategy and self-preservation. Daddy didn’t teach me how to kill people because he wanted me to be a peacekeeper. He taught me because the strongest Chancellors put themselves ahead of everyone else. They treat each other like commodities to buy and sell. They separate themselves from weaknesses like empathy and compassion.”

  Her words landed as a gut punch, but they also made perfect sense. Michael remembered the moment his terror began: Waking up to a pistol in his mouth and Christian Bidwell standing over him, taunting, his mother Agatha watching.

  “Sounds right. The Chancellors aren’t a bunch of loons. They’re… oh, what’s the word…?”

  “Sociopaths?”

  “Yeah, that one.” He looked away from Sammie. “Great. A whole race of dangerous assholes. How many?”

  “I think about 800 million, give or take. If it makes you feel any better, most of us live off-world.”

  He looked back, caught a wry smile. “Did you just make a joke, Sammie? Cause that’s some dark shit, right there.”

  “I don’t tell jokes. Daddy wasn’t into humor.”

  Michael thought of a witty response, but he canned it. Instead, he grabbed her hand and lifted her up.

  “What say we go visit the ocean? I never got to the Atlantic back home. Went to the gulf a few times. Maybe it’s the same?”

  She nodded. When they began walking, Michael did not release her hand. She cautioned against it, scanning for suspicious eyes.

  “Screw those people,” he told her. “If they got a problem with me, I’ll just tell them to back off or they’ll feel my proto-African fire. Get my speed?”

  They held hands all the way to the beach. Michael wasn’t sure he was comforting Sammie, but escorting a girl three inches taller, with greater status than he, a girl he knew as everything from Wonder Woman to GI Jane, settled Michael’s nerves. No one attacked them, most eyes looked away, and no one suspected he was an alien. Not bad, all things considered.

  When he stood with her at the ocean’s edge and allowed the brisk salt air and gentle breeze to dominate his senses, Michael succumbed to an unexpected notion: Hope. For the moment, he entertained the thought of his reckless journey turning toward the positive. Like Sammie, he knew his education was just beginning. But maybe, just maybe, he could learn the ropes?

  “Do you smell it, Michael?” She said. “The ocean. It’s salt, but different somehow. It’s sweeter. Purer?”

  He took a strong whiff and shrugged. “If you say so. Like I said, don’t have much experience with the ocean.”

  “It’s my imagination. Maybe I need it to be different.”

  “This Earth don’t have a moon, so who’s to say the seawater ought to be the same?”

  They admired the ocean for a moment, until Sammie let go of Michael’s hand. She gazed north, up the beach and then inland. She locked her eyes in amazement.

  “Ohmigod. Can it be?”

  He followed her eyes but needed her help to home in on what transfixed her. The vertical object at first seemed incoherent, more like a beam extending toward the clouds, shimmering at first and then fading in the seconds thereafter. He did not realize the flickering fire continued its ascent until Sammie pointed up above the scattered clouds and toward a darker, deeper blue sky. Michael adjusted his eyes again, questioning whether the object, which rose in a straight line toward the sky, was natural or manmade.

  “I didn’t realize New Stockholm was so close,” she said.

  “So close to what?”

  Before Sammie responded, a shadow passed in front of them. Patricia, the Chief, answered for her.

  “It’s SkyTower. The greatest engineering achievement in history.”

  His Tier 1 learning returned in a flash. “Oh, yeah. The program said something about this. It was one of them blink-and-you-miss-it details. It flew over my head. They called it a… space elevator?”

  “Originally,” said Patricia, whose arrival did not surprise Michael. “First erected eleven hundred years ago. Over time, they scaled it out as a series of interconnected transport stations, tourist attractions, and small cities.”

  Sammie gawked. “Daddy said the Chancellors built it over four centuries. He said you had to see it for yourself.”

  “How far away is it?” Michael asked.

  “Two hundred miles due north,” said Patricia, who had lingered a discrete block behind them since they left the landing, just in case trouble arose. “From here, when the sun hits it just right, it seems like a laser blasting toward space, or a fireball rising from the Earth. Up close, it can be disorienting. Most Chancellors in Philadelphia Redux never lift their eyes above the traditional skyline.”

  “Damn. That I got to see up close.”

  Patricia hovered near the teens and offered a frown.

  “The farther we stay from SkyTower, the best for everyone,” she said. “Ophelia has received intelligence connecting yesterday’s misfortunes to one occupant of that structure. I just came off a circastream with her. She wants us to return to the landing at once.”

  “What’s happened?” Sammie asked.

  “Complications. We might leave New Stockholm today after all.”

  Michael knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

  26

  O PHELIA TOMELIN FIDGETED AS THEY TOOK their seats around her, which did not set well with Michael. She rubbed her hands together in her lap just as his mother did before she delivered uncomfortable news.

  “Conditions have changed,” Ophelia began. “On the positive, we have the second Jewel in our possession. She is being transported under blind flight protocols. If our precautions work, she should arrive at our rendezvous point in the next twelve hours. However, several variables might disrupt our plans.”

  “What variables?” Patricia asked.

  “I have cause to believe they might make another effort to intercept her Scram before it reaches the NAC.”

  “You said she was traveling under blind flight.”

  “There are no guarantees.” She turned to Rikard, who piloted his shuttle to New Stockholm under blind flight. “Explain about the complication with the stack-grid.”

  Rikard nodded. “Stack-grids allow the consortiums to monitor Solomons. Most domestic pilots are Solomons, which is more leverage than the Chancellory would ever allow. So, they load a transponder in our circastream amps.” He tapped his right temple. “It latches onto a ship’s transponder when we take flight.”

  “Wow,” Michael intervened. “So, the Chancellors can track you everywhere. How do you…?”

  “We learn BFPs from experience, how to bypass the transponder links for a limited run. But it only works within the consortium. Whatever protocols the Jewel’s pilot uses over the Atlantic, those go out the window as soon as it hits the NAC’s stack-grid.”

  Patricia sighed. “Which means we must time our rendezvous for quick retrieval. Then Rikard can take us one step closer to escape.”

  “Escape to where?” Michael asked.

  Ophelia looked away. “I’ll know more in due course. Faith, Michael.”

  “Got loads of that,” he said. “Just not real big on trust.”

  Brey, who sipped coffee throughout the exchange, spoke up.

  “A minute ago, you said there were variables, plural. Another?”

  She sat back. “The Jewel herself. She has been non-compliant and hostile and may be unstable. She has killed many people. She triggered a nuclear blast on the other side.”

  “Sounds like Jamie,” Mi
chael said. “Except for the unstable part. Although melting down that dude in front of us was heavy-duty.”

  “But the difference,” Olivia said, “is James uncovered his truth in the final hours of his life. We believe the Ukrainian has been planning her rebirth for years.”

  Brey sighed. “The literal opposite of how they were designed.”

  “Which creates volatility. If she accepts us, we move forward.”

  “And if not?”

  Ophelia surveyed the room. “Then we contain her. Or worst case, we kill her and focus our effort on James and the Jewels off-world.”

  Brey nodded. “Kill a walking nuke? Sounds easy enough.”

  “I do not appreciate your sarcasm, Brey. She belongs to us. We started this project, we will finish it. If anyone else…”

  “Speaking of anyone else,” Sammie jumped in. “You haven’t said a word about Jamie’s timetable. Will he be there, too?”

  She shook her head. “I very much doubt… no, Samantha. Our goals have changed since yesterday. We secure the Ukrainian first. Trust me,” she said to both Sammie and Michael. “Acquiring her will provide us the leverage to bring James back into our company.”

  Michael didn’t respect the tone. After three days with these people, he developed an acute radar for Chancellor bullshit.

  Ophelia changed the conversation into directives. She told Brey, Rikard, and Patricia to return to the shuttle. Brey, to calculate a more potent tranquilizer should the Ukrainian need containment. Rikard, to await delivery of the rendezvous coordinates and to calculate a new BFP. Patricia, to provide her newly hired squad with the go-ahead to meet at their staging area north of New Stockholm.

  “We leave two hours before the confirmed rendezvous time,” she told them. “When you finish your duties, I’ll prepare a meal. A dose of sleep will be smart. We will likely leave in the middle of the night. We need our energy for what’s ahead. Agreed?”

  Nobody brought up the admiral, which surprised Michael but also worried him. He did not hesitate to ask the question once they left him and Sammie alone with Ophelia.

  “We do this,” he told her, “any chance Perrone will show his face again? He wants me dead.”