by Mark Lingane
Sebastian lifted the sword from under his pack. He twisted it in his hand, and smiled as it gleamed. “They’ve cleaned it. I like these people.”
“Clean,” Memphis burst out. “We’d better get cleaned up before we meet with the q-backer again. I’m showering first.”
She emerged from the bathroom some time later with a towel wrapped around her body and another around her head. Steam billowed from the door behind her.
“You took, like, an hour,” Sebastian said.
She gave him a smile and twirled in her towels. He didn’t understand. She didn’t have the curves of Angel, his faraday arch-nemesis from his home country, or @summer, but they were still dangerous. Angel had been a lot like Melanie, just on this side of bad, if there was even a bad side. Angel had always wrapped men around her little finger and made them do whatever she wanted, always for her own gain. She had tortured Melanie with her superior looks, something that Melanie had bought right into. In the end, Sebastian had put an end to Angel and her deceit.
But @summer … he sighed. @summer had been special. They were so different—she a cyborg and him not—but she had surrendered everything for him, who she was and what she was. She had turned her back on her fellow cyborgs, her people, and for that she’d paid the ultimate price. She’d shown him compassion and understanding when the world had turned against him.
And she had the most amazing hair.
And she was funny.
And she was, well, she was nice in a whole lot of ways …
He had to lie face down on his bed for a few moments. He watched Memphis search through her pack, throwing undergarments around the room. A pair of lacy—he had to question the lace—panties landed on his shoes. He felt himself going bright red, so he made a dash for the bathroom and closed the door.
There were towels strewn all over the floor. The mirror was fogged up. Dirty socks lay in the middle of the room. He made his way through the clutter and came face-to-face with a bra hanging over the shower frame. He leaped back. There was also the scent of roses in the air.
He started to undress. He’d taken off his shirt and shoes when there was a knock on the door. Without a pause, it opened, and Memphis bounced in and grabbed her bra. Sebastian scrambled to get behind the shower curtain.
She stopped, took a look at his torso, and closed the door.
“You’re meant to wait once you’ve knocked,” he shouted through the door. “Otherwise, there’s no point in knocking.”
“There was plenty of waiting time,” she shouted back. “You could’ve parked a super tanker.”
He locked the door and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He wrote Seb woz here on the mirror and turned on the shower. Steam billowed out. Memphis sure has nice legs, he thought. He might wind the water back to cold when he was in the shower. He turned it down to a more manageable temperature and stepped under the jets.
As the water cascaded over him, cleaning away the grime and exhaustion, he felt his nerves come under control, briefly, until Memphis’s image bounced back. He turned the temperature all the way to cold and cried out.
17
JEFFRY RETURNED BEFORE Sebastian was fully dressed, and as the tackle led them back across the fields to the headquarters, Sebastian was still hurriedly tucking in his shirt.
Alan Finchley entered the room where everyone had assembled, clapping his hands as he did. The soldiers stood to attention until he “at-eased” them. Sebastian and Memphis were standing awkwardly among the men.
Sebastian felt uncomfortable. Memphis seemed to be looking at him differently. To distract himself, he tried to engage in conversation with the man next to him. He was relieved when the q-backer called him over. Memphis followed quietly, keeping in his shadow.
“You’re not from here,” Alan said. “Your accent’s different, unlike anything I’ve heard before.”
“I … I was kidnapped in Australia and brought here to North America through the void storm.”
“How many people kidnapped you?”
“A few.”
“Why were you kidnapped?”
“I don’t know. The zeppelin I came over on crashed in Los Angeles, and I was the sole survivor, so there’s no one who can tell me.”
“And you,” Alan said, pointing at Memphis, “you’re in uniform. How are you involved?”
“I was travelling with him.”
“On the voidship? He just said there were no other—”
“No, afterwards. I was transporting some items to the voidship.”
Sebastian looked at her and wondered why she was lying.
“I felt bad, and so I broke him out and we escaped,” Memphis said. “I didn’t like the way the Chargers treated me or what they’d done to my family. I thought we could find a quiet place and …” Her sentence trailed off and she turned red.
Alan smiled and turned his attention back to Sebastian.
Brad stepped up behind the q-backer. He stood easily, but Sebastian could see that the center was tense and ready to spring. “So, what makes you special enough to kidnap, Sebastian?” Brad said.
“I’m a tesla.” Sebastian smiled.
There was silence from the assembled soldiers. Sebastian sighed. At the least, he thought, there should be some rumors about teslas in North America.
“What’s a tesla?” Brad asked.
“I can control electromagnetic energy.”
Brad stared at Sebastian.
Alan had gone quiet. Eventually, he turned to Brad. “We need to talk to the Peacemaker.”
Brad nodded.
“Who is the Peacemaker?” Memphis asked.
Alan sighed. “He’s a necessary evil. We provide him with occasional fuel, and he acts as a liaison between the Chargers and us. He also maintains the Great Wall that protects us from the east. I see you know about the wall, young lady.”
Memphis stopped her exaggerated shivering. Sebastian gave them both a quizzical look.
“People beyond the wall have been heavily radiated for a long time,” Alan explained to Sebastian. “Ever since the nuclear war. They’re not the kind we want roaming our lands. They’re not for the likes of young folk like you. Please excuse me a minute. I need to discuss something with my center.”
Alan signaled for Brad to join him privately.
“It sounds pretty bad on the other side of this wall,” Sebastian said to Memphis. “Do we have to go through it to get to New York?”
Memphis nodded. “The Great Wall runs down the middle of the country. The east was hit heaviest by the nuclear machine attacks, and the prevailing winds have kept the west relatively free of radiation.”
“So, what’s on the other side?”
“It’s not as bad as the q-backer makes out. People are a lot sicker than here, but they’re still people. There are safe ways through if you avoid the death plains. You look worried.”
“I don’t react well to radiation.”
“No one does.”
“It’s a lot worse for me.”
“The way the boy describes his ability,” Alan said to Brad, “it sounds just like the weapon. According to the rumors, anyway. Is that a coincidence?”
“It would explain why the Chargers were chasing them.”
“What’s the girl got to do with this?”
“To me, she looks like a freelancer. I wouldn’t trust her one inch,” Brad said.
“You’re right. Look at her, she cowers behind him, keeping her features concealed.”
“Shall we kill her?”
“No. We don’t want to turn the boy against us; we don’t know how he feels about her. Although, looking at him, I don’t think he’d be able to find his backside with both hands. I’ll interrogate him further. Take him to the discussion room.”
Brad returned to Sebastian and indicated for him to follow. He held out his hand and stopped Memphis from following. “Just him,” he said.
Memphis looked around uncertainly, suddenly concerned about being on her o
wn surrounded by an unknown enemy. The soldiers were all watching her carefully.
The discussion room was small, tidy, and functional. There were several chairs, a large table, and a map of northern California that took up one wall. Alan entered, and Brad closed the door behind him, leaving the two alone.
Sebastian stared at the huge map. “The Chargers have something like this,” he said. “With the same symbols, too, except they have more arrows and fewer crosses.”
“The crosses are losses. It shows we’re not winning.”
“You seem to be winning. You sure won when they were attacking us.”
Alan shook his head. “We keep them at bay, usually by throwing young men at them. We have better tactics, but they have better technology. You’ve seen those exosuits? We have agility and speed to combat their greater firepower, but they continually surprise us. They beat us a few days ago in Los Angeles, somehow bringing down one of our helicopters and wiping out an entire offensive team.”
“Er, well, that might’ve been luck.” Sebastian scratched his ear nervously.
“The Chargers are continually developing new weapons under influence from the east. Have you seen their new spider-tanks?”
“Yes, we were captured and transported in one.”
“The Chargers have a commander called the Master. He, and they, want to wipe us out. The only ally we have is the Peacemaker, and only because we supply him with fuel. It’s amazing the lengths the Chargers will go to over easy-to-get fuel.”
“If you’ve had enough, why do you keep attacking the Chargers?”
“We don’t attack them. We’re continually on the defensive. They don’t want to pay or trade. It costs to get the fuel here, in terms of both money and people. The Chargers attack us from the south and east.” Alan pointed to the map. “That’s why we have these walls protecting our land.”
Alan stepped back and sat down at the table. “All we want is to be left alone, but the Chargers continue to attack us. I don’t know why. They have enough land and water to grow what they need. We don’t have anything different up here in the north that they would want. I’d be more than happy to reinforce the treaty and end this, but they continually refuse. It drives me up the wall.”
He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I’m just so tired of it all. My emotions sometimes get the better of me. Instead of focusing our resources into agriculture, education, and medicine, three things we vitally need, we’re constantly diverting good people into war. And they die. Everybody dies. Why won’t the Chargers listen? Don’t they think we’ve seen enough death? Life’s difficult enough.”
Sebastian sat down across from the q-backer, who sighed and looked back at the map.
“You know, I wasn’t born into a military family,” Alan said. “We were farmers. I pulled a plow through the earth so we could plant seeds, year after year, from the age of twelve. I enjoyed that. It was peaceful and it gave me time to think. A general passed by one day, noticed my size, and drafted me. It turned out I was very good at killing people.”
The q-backer looked down at his hands. “Do you know how hard it is for me to say that? I never wanted to do it. But they found out that if they pushed me in certain ways, I’d become this military monster. I long for the day when I can go back and pull that simple plow through the simple earth, before this confounded war takes what little I have left.”
Alan looked out the window at the dark skyline with the bright half-moon rising. He pulled his ceremonial dagger from his belt, and rolled it around in his hands with ease and grace. The ceiling lights reflected off his medals and decorations.
“It’s the times we live in,” Sebastian said. “Back home in Australia, everyone fights. Men, women, children.” He got up and wandered over to the window. The snowcapped mountains lay beyond. He tapped his fingers on the windowsill. At the base of the mountains lay the empty fields, dead for the winter.
“They called me the ‘Death Bringer,’” Alan said. “It’s hard to look at yourself in the mirror when they call you something like that. And that’s one more reason to go back to farming—no mirrors.”
Several minutes ticked by in silence. “You’ll stay here for a while as guests,” Alan said.
“We have somewhere to go.”
“No, you don’t. All that’s outside of San Francisco are our enemies, and I’m sure you don’t want to mix with them again.”
Sebastian sighed. Imprisoned again.
Alan Finchley pressed the communications button on the screen. Several small images appeared. He pressed the face of the Peacemaker. The screen cleared and was replaced by a spinning line. Eventually it stopped, and the Peacemaker’s face filled the screen.
“Q-backer Finchley, it’s a pleasure to hear from you.” The Peacemaker’s face was half concealed in shadows.
“Thank you, Peacemaker. The image is dim, are you sitting in the dark?”
“Critical work is being carried out on the generators,” he replied. “We’re in sleep mode.”
“Do you have sufficient power?”
He nodded. “We have sufficient power. What are you calling about?”
“We have something here—someone, that is—who is very intriguing. Have you heard of something called a tesla?”
There was the slightest of pauses from the Peacemaker. “You have a tesla? How?” His face moved forward into full light, floating eerily against the dark background.
“We captured him fleeing the Chargers. Saved him, in fact, from their sick experiments.”
“Has he done anything, displayed any odd behavior?”
“He’s a teenage boy. All his behavior is odd by definition. But he’s a big, strapping young man who looks like a damn fine warrior.”
“Big? Normally teslas are small and frail. Are you sure he’s a tesla?”
“He says he is. The Chargers seemed keen to get hold of him. Is it true that teslas can control electromagnetic waves?”
“So the rumor goes, although by the way you describe him, this boy doesn’t sound like one. Maybe he’s heard of them and he’s using it to appear more than he is, the way so many teenagers do. Keep him close, under continual observation. If he displays any of these powers, let me know.”
“In the meantime, will you send someone?”
“No. I trust you.”
“As you wish.”
Alan disconnected the call. He sat back and looked out the window. The sun lanced down through the holes in the clouds in defined shafts of light. He didn’t like the Peacemaker, but he understood him and the need for him. He was their only ally on the continent.
There had been something about his behavior during this call … normally the man was matter-of-fact and definite on everything, but when he had spoken about the tesla, he was evasive and uncertain.
Alan was suddenly uncertain about who he distrusted more, the unknown boy or the staunch ally.
The Peacemaker watched the dark screen as the image of Alan faded. In the world of political chess, it was good to have a knight, or, if the knight didn’t live up to the rumors, then a sacrificial pawn. He smiled as the darkness wrapped around him. His face disappeared into the black. He needed time to plan.
18
THE DAYS PASSED peacefully, and Sebastian used the time to explore the small island. Guard posts were positioned on the roads leading across from the island to the mainland. The guards didn’t stop him as he wandered past them one day. He squinted as he looked ahead at the long road over the water. He turned back. It would take hours to walk across.
As he wandered back, he noticed two teenagers running around a grassy area. To Sebastian, running was even worse than walking. They looked about the same age as him, and he realized he hadn’t spoken to anyone except Memphis recently. And even she wasn’t saying much. She actively avoided talking to any of the 49th Division soldiers and stayed mainly in their room.
He continued to watch the guys run around. They had a robustness about them that r
eminded him of the farm boys back home. Although it was cold, with a brisk wind blowing in from the sea, they had their tops off and were using any excuse to flex their muscles.
As he approached, he saw that they were kicking a white ball to each other as they ran. At one end of the grassed area, they’d set up a pair of garbage cans, and they seemed to be trying to kick the ball through the space between them. They cheered when the ball went through, and looked angry when it bounced off and back at them.
It seemed totally backward. Why run after a ball? Why kick it in the first place?
He made his way over. “What are you doing?” he called.
“We’re playing soccer,” one of them answered. “Edward,” he yelled to the other guy, “kick it to me.”
Edward, who was behind Sebastian, kicked it through his legs. Sebastian watched it pass beneath him without emotion. The two teenagers howled, seemingly finding it hilarious. He stood there, staring at them.
“You’re supposed to kick it,” Edward said to Sebastian. “Right, Will?”
Sebastian turned. “Why?”
“’Cos it’s cool.”
Will tossed the ball to Sebastian and it bounced off his foot.
“Kick it,” both young men chanted.
Sebastian gave them a blank stare. He drew his foot back and punched his toe into the ball. It flew off to one side, knocking over one of the garbage cans. They burst out laughing, and howled their derision.
Edward dashed off and retrieved the ball. He kicked it to Will past Sebastian on one side, and Will passed it back on the other side. Edward clipped it gently with his boot and steered it between the cans.
“We’re not worthy, we’re not worthy,” Will and Edward chanted.
“He kicked the ball between the cans,” Sebastian said. “How does that make you not worthy?”
“Because we’re epic,” Will said.
“And awesome,” Edward added.
They bounced off each other’s chests and chanted guttural syllables.