Edward

by Marcus LaGrone

  Zoë and Edward followed and looked over his shoulder. Outside were at least twenty bikers and another fifty would be patrolling beyond.

  “My children came in peace, they leave in peace,” called Richard to the mob.

  “She killed Gretchen!”

  “Gretchen challenged her station. Who among you has the right to challenge my children?”

  “They can leave, but not until next Monday.”

  “I’m leaving now,” called out Zoë.

  “Like hell you are,” came the reply, and suddenly Zoë’s bike exploded in flames. That produced a vicious round of laughter in the distance.

  “Stand clear, Deacon, she’s going down!”

  “She is my daughter; she is in my protection.”

  “The Rector made things clear.”

  “Then I will see him on the other side. Edward, I’m told Afon is quite beautiful. I do hope you enjoy the seven rivers of Westdale.”

  That didn’t set well with Edward, but it was Zoë that spoke first, “Okay, how do we get out of here now? My bike has had it.”

  Edward slowly started to back away from the door with Zoë, “That’s okay. I brought you a spare!”

  Edward’s mind lashed out in fear and anger. A thousand old voices and arguments suddenly played out in his head all at once. The noise within burnt him to his core, but he fought it, he had to. Edward raised his Live Steel in a giant display, yet each spark seemed to jab Edward to his very soul. Pain from within tore at him as he watched every failure in his life play back in his mind, mocking him over and over again. But he would not fail…

  The wall of blue sparks collapsed and revealed the fruits of Edward’s pain: a copy of Zoë’s bike that had been folded through time and space. “Drive!” he screamed as the bike formed under them. The turbine was already whining away at what normally would have been red-line. But Takru’s technicians had seen otherwise and as Zoë released the brakes, the engine was already at 150k rpm.

  The pair shot out of the building in a treacherous blur. Edward would have been sick to his stomach from the acceleration, but the process of folding an entire working bike had already made him sick in his own right. He fought to raise his Live Steel as armor; it was a given they were getting ready to get shot at. He didn’t know how far he raised the armor, but it didn’t matter. Between the element of surprise and Zoë’s extreme driving, no one got a shot off at them until they were well on the far side of the dock. Based on the secondary hail of gunfire, it was doubtful that Deacon Richard Sylva made it out himself.

  “I’m not sure your dad made it,” yelled Edward to Zoë. While they had her bike, they lacked the helmets with their communication gear.

  Zoë nodded, “And we didn’t even learn a thing! This was just a waste!”

  “No. We know where the bombs are. We need to find a place where we can raise Trevor.”

  “What? Where? Safe spot… I can probably buy us about five minutes. Hold on.”

  “Hold on” was easily the silliest thing that had been said all morning. Edward was holding so tightly that they probably only needed one driving suit.

  Zoë rocketed down the concrete canyons past an ever-increasing number of irate-looking people. All well-armed and well-motivated. Zoë’s twists and turns were punctuated with a fur raising jump that launched them off the main track and onto a side rail high overhead. The rear airbrakes deployed as she struggled to slow down the bike on the narrow path, but a few turns later and they were out of sight.

  “Okay, we have a clear sky overhead for comms and I assume the bike’s radio still works. What did father tell you that I missed?”

  “Abbey, Roland, Freska, Blue Spire, Eagleton, and Foxdale. Do any of those ring a bell?”

  Zoë looked horrible confused, “No, why?”

  “You father mentioned the seven rivers of Westdale. There are only six.”

  Zoë’s face suddenly lit up, “He was passing a clue!”

  “I bloody well hope so! Think! Do any of those click for around here or around the city?”

  Zoë shook her head, “Not a clue. Can we get Trevor on the comms?” She fiddled with the controls until they radio sprang to life.

  “Trevor here. Go.”

  “‘Abbey, Roland, Freska, Blue Spire, Eagleton, and Foxdale.’ Do any of those names make sense for a place name where they might be hiding the bombs?”

  “Searching… How clear is your exit?”

  “Covered in mud,” replied Zoë. “We got new trouble—someone on the catwalk.”

  With no small amount of discomfort, but far less than the motorbike, Edward folded in a Live Steel copy of a submachine gun and handed it to Zoë, “You are better with those things than I am…”

  Zoë racked the action expertly as she slid the butt stock back. Two quick peeks around the corner and then she just unloaded the clip down range. Edward folded his ears backwards; oww, that was loud! Next time it would be a gun with a suppressor!

  “LRSS Foxtail, abandoned freighter there in the port. 250k ton displacement, sold for scrap but still floating.”

  “Foxtail, Foxdale. That sounds darn good to me!” called Edward. “Do you need us to board it?”

  “Oh heavens, no. Let Mjölner handle this. Stay on the west side of that structure. Impact in less than four minutes!”

  “Will you know if the strike was successful?”

  “Airborne spectroscopy should be able to validate the strike.”

  “Do you have authorization yet?” mused Edward.

  “Oh, heck no. That’ll take at least twenty. Stay safe kids. Yell when it clears.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Mjölner?” asked Zoë.

  “Human cute pet trick. It is the name of Thor’s hammer. A god from their ancient mythology. One hundred and twenty kilos of tungsten encapsulated in ceramic, fired down from orbit.”

  “No explosives?”

  “When you are going that fast, you don’t need explosives.”

  Three more incursions along the catwalk were met with more gunfire before Edward advised that the guys on the catwalk were the least of their concerns. Never one to leave things half baked, the humans had fired twelve rounds in rapid succession from orbit. Things falling from the sky tend to hit with a terrible thud. Things launched downward, even more so. The brilliant incandescent glow was hard to miss, but it was the sound that told the story. The crack of the sonic boom was washed out by the entire world seeming to reverberate as the rounds hit. The building seemed to shake for minutes.

  Finally things calmed down enough that Edward risked moving over to the bike and cueing the mike, “Shaken and dusty but fine, Trevor.”

  “Excellent. Spectroscopy shows a 99.8% chance that all four warheads were disrupted. I assume you’d like extraction?”

  “Yes, please!”

  “We have the 1212th on high descent now. Half headed to the wreckage, half headed your way. The gunship is on station and should be there in less than five.”

  “Is the wreckage going to be toxic to them?” asked Zoë, more than a little concerned.

  “Shukurae are tough. They should be able to handle a four hour exposure the first day with no side effects. I just wouldn’t go there myself!”

  “Understood. We may have to squirm here a bit. There are confused and grumpy people here.”

  “Understood. We’re tracking the bike. If you separate from the bike, squawk or fold it up.”

  “Folded that once already. I’m going to try to avoid that.”

  “What are those streaks in the sky?” asked Zoë as she looked overhead.

  “Shukurae… and lots of them!”

  Idioms and expressions are fun views into the working psyche of different cultures. Quite mundanely, a common expression in a great many cultures is “to hit the ground running.” The Shukurae equivalent spoke of their history and their culture as a warrior people. The nearest translation would come across, quite bluntly, as “to hit the ground shooting.”


  Everything that was moving was being shot at. Things that weren’t moving were being lit on fire. It must have irritated the Shukurae to their very core that there wasn’t a fast way to make water catch on fire. Not that they were about to give up trying. Dante’s classic work would have passed for a description of a field exercise for teenage Shukurae for it really took a true master to create hell on earth. Edward cringed and shielded Zoë from the blasts as weapons were being unleashed that even the Gelkin considered ‘excessive.’ The Shukurae suffered from no such short-sightedness; there was always room for a more devastating explosion. “Excessive violence” was one of those humorous oxymorons that they bantered about in the bar after a long day. Shukuare were scary when they were mad, and the 1212th CSOG was pissed!

  The smoke soon cleared, primarily from the large updrafts created by the raging fires on the perimeter, and a large Shukurae assault gunship descended as another wave of shocktroops descended. With no small amount of relief, Edward spied Tazo at one of the doors and quickly hailed him. With a gruff escort of towering Shukurae, Zoë and Edward were quickly shepherded inside. The pair had barely found their seats before the great craft rocketed into the air.

  Edward looked at Tazo, “Okay, they looked worse than normal. What is up?”

  “They had long ago promised your brother Penn to watch out for you. They were just making certain they did not fail in their obligations.”

  “Penn? I thought it was always Llewellyn that made people go crazy,” asked Edward.

  Tazo smiled, “Penn did his fair share. Are the two of you uninjured?”

  “We’re fine. I don’t think her father made it…”

  Zoë just shook her head, “It was his own people. At least he came through in the end.”

  “I am sorry for your loss, Lady Zoë.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just glad he went out doing the right thing.”

  Edward stared straight at Zoë, “You are not, ‘Okay’. You are about ready to fall apart.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I am. But let me wait until we get back to the flat. I need to tell Ethan.”

  Edward nodded and smiled as he held Zoë tight. It wasn’t a long flight back; it just seemed that way.

  40

  Ethan took it in stride. Sad at the passing, glad at the redemption. Both of them had given up on their father long ago. But that didn’t mean that the final passing didn’t hurt.

  “I guess I’m in line to be the next Deacon,” joked Ethan through the tears. “I think I’ll give that a miss, thank you.”

  “No female Deacons?” asked Tatiana. “That is rude.”

  “What was your first hint?” mused Zoë back. “Hey, Gillian?”

  “Yes, Zoë?” Gillian was tickled pink to have them back and doing her best to calm them all.

  “Can I change my last name to Rose, too? I’m kinda done with Sylva.”

  Gillian beamed, “If you like, I’d be delighted.”

  “Any word on Tatiana’s father?” whispered Edward.

  “We can all hear you,” joked Tatiana. “You are talking louder than you think. Probably the gunshots still ringing in your head.”

  Edward offered a feeble grin, “Sorry…”

  Gillian shook her head, “No, to answer your question. There is a standoff on the far side of the old ship yard and they think he is being held there. But no one knows for certain.”

  Suddenly Trevor knocked on the door frame again, “Sorry to barge in. Edward, who is your favorite disposable sniper?”

  “Disposable? I don’t think I have one in mind.”

  “Okay, I’ll go with my first choice. Should make for some neat ends. Catch you guys later. Oh! Gillian, eight o’clock! Try again?”

  She smiled broadly, “Of course. I’ll be waiting.”

  “How many times have you two reset that date?” asked Zoë, happy for the distraction.

  “Don’t ask!”

  “That’s hours from now. Gillian can you keep an eye on Ethan?” asked Zoë.

  “Sure. I’d be delighted,” laughed Gillian.

  “Where are you going?” asked Edward more than a little curious.

  “To bed. And you and Tatiana are coming too!”

  One precise gunshot ended the standoff. The governor was struck in the arm, but the same bullet subsequently found something far more vital on the so-called Rector and sent him careening off of a five story building to the concrete floor of the boat locks. The faithful quickly scattered like the lost sheep they were; half of which were quickly rounded up with no additional violence. It had been a gorgeous shot, the sign not just of an expert marksman, but of someone that had elevated such work to an art. As the sniper’s face briefly flashed by on the news footage, Edward fell to the ground he was laughing so hard.

  Tatiana poked Edward in the ribs, more than a little confused, “Um, so what is so darn funny?”

  Edward was tearing he was laughing so hard, “Oh, that was rich. Even for Trevor. You remember he asked me for my choice in disposable sniper?”

  Zoë nodded, just as confused as Tatiana, “Yes, and he said he was going with his first choice. ‘Disposable’ is an odd moniker.”

  “Well, the sniper had to sneak into an area where, if he was caught, he would have been executed on the spot.”

  “We figured out what ‘disposable’ meant,” interjected Tatiana. “So why is that guy so funny?”

  Edward was still fighting off the giggles, “That was the man that was hired to shoot you in the leg.”

  “The same loon we chased on the motorcycle?” asked Zoë.

  “Yep. That’s the one.”

  “He almost shoots me, so they give him a suicide mission as a way out of jail?” asked Tatiana. “That seems irregular at best. Practical in Trevor’s own weird way, but that still kinda creeps me out.”

  “He was a professional, and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t going to be doing any real jail time,” remarked Edward.

  “No jail time? He almost shot Tatiana, leg or otherwise. He did shoot you, and you think they were just going to let him go?”

  Edward nodded, “I got the impression he was going to be traded in some sort of spy swap.”

  “Spy swap? My dad was running spies on other planets?” asked Tatiana incredulously.

  Edward nodded, “Mostly industrial espionage if I heard correctly, but yes nonetheless.”

  Tatiana blinked blankly, “Um… wow? That is just something I would have never expected…”

  Edward’s comlink chirped suddenly and he clicked it reflexively, “Edward here, what’s up?”

  Trevor’s cheerful voice piped up, “Tatiana with you I assume?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, Trevor!” chimed Tatiana.

  “Hello! Your father is at hospital; they are going to have to sedate him as they try to get endocrine system back in check. Several days off your meds can cause some serious problems. But if you’d like to see him, we have about a fifteen minute window. I can have a gunship ferry you guys there and back.”

  “Yes! Yes, please!” Suddenly Tatiana seemed reserved, “Um, that is if you two will come with me.”

  Zoë beamed, “Of course, silly girl. We just need to find some clothes…”

  “I didn’t need to hear that,” laughed Trevor.

  41

  Tazo joined the trio as they flew out on the gunship. The hospital administration was starting to get used to the idea of gunships landing on their roof. Either that or they realized the futility of arguing.

  Trevor was waiting on the roof as they disembarked. “You father is lucid, but under some pain killers. As soon as you are done talking with him, they are going to drop him into a drug induced coma for about two days and see if they can get his kidneys to start cooperating.”

  Tatiana nodded worried, “I thought the doctor said his problems weren’t so severe. A few days off his medication shouldn’t have been this catastrophic!”

  “Quite often doctors don’t tell children the long facts.
It also doesn’t help that he was on a starvation diet these last few days.”

  “He’s going to make it, isn’t he?” asked Tatiana suddenly much more worried.

  “The question is whether he gets an artificially grown kidney or whether his own pull through. Beyond that question, there are no serious worries,” Trevor tried to reassure Tatiana.

  “This from the person that just told me that people sugar coat things for their children.”

  Trevor smiled with a brief laugh, “Touché! You are a young lady now, not a child. You deserve to know the truth and I will not hide things from you.”

  She smiled and nodded, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

  Trevor smiled appreciatively, “You’re welcome. His room is right around this corner.”

  Tatiana stopped at the door before turning to the group, “Here we go. All of you, if you please.”

  Tazo nodded, “Lady Tatiana, my frame is excessive for such a small room with all of its delicate instruments. It would be best for me to remain out here.”

  Tatiana giggled, “You are awfully tall.” She hugged Tazo briefly before returning to the door. “Here we go…”

  Tatiana bit her lip as she entered. Her father was lying on a bed with a high power air curtain isolating him from the visitors. His nose and ears were pale and she could tell he was having a hard time breathing evenly. Even his fur looked tired. She was glad the others were there with her. “Dad, you look like hell.”

  That earned a feeble laugh, “And you look radiant as always. Who are these people? They your friends I’ve heard so much about?”

  Tatiana smiled, “Yes indeed. This is my fiancé Edward. Our co-fiancée, as it were, Zoë. And I’m sure you’ve meet Trevor.”

  “Trevor I’ve met, but never in person. You are a bold and arrogant man, but you have done such an amazing job arranging to protect my daughter. I do thank you for that.” His tired form turned to Edward and Zoë, “I understand the two of you went in to find the warheads. You have done us all proud for I fear that ultimately, when I faced death, I was a coward. It was only a matter of time before they used those things. Edward, right?”