Overhead, the bright, tropical afternoon sun caused Sarge to break out instantly in a sweat under the heavy clothes she wore. The sun reflected off the blue-green water with almost blinding intensity. Despite the serenity of the scene, the water and beach were shockingly empty. The brightness of the surf didn’t affect her cybernetic eye. She still wasn’t getting an accurate feed from the sensitive tech, but her left eye watered.
As her gaze followed the curve of the tan beach sand, a small structure painted in red and white caught her attention. A man in long shorts and a T-Shirt watched them with a confused look on his sun-darkened face. Shit, I think he saw us arrive.
It was an idyllic beach, the sort one would expect to be wall-to-wall with people enjoying it. Instead, only diehard surfers and what looked like a few local beach bums dotted the shore.
“Snake, you told us the harmonic, but not the destination. Where are we?” Sarge held out her left arm to help China to his feet and jumped as the cloak dissipated around a blushing Mack as she appeared on her knees in the soft sand.
“Careful honey. I dislocated my shoulder,” China winced, holding his arm at an odd angle.
Sarge nodded, backing off and letting him find his own balance, not wanting to aggravate his injury by pulling at him. Instead, she helped the other two to their feet in the soft sand. Once Snake was upright, he brushed sand from Sheila, checking all the dials before using the strap to slide her around his body so she nestled against his back. “That was too bloody close,” Snake muttered.
“You ain’t kidding,” Mack muttered, not looking at the musician’s eyes. “But we managed to acquire a couple of pistols out of it.” She stuffed one haphazardly into her backpack.
Grunting, China rose easily on the balls of his feet, bracing his injured arm with his good one. From the tightness around his eyes and the shallowness of his breath, Sarge could tell that her husband was bearing the pain as best he could.
Snake inhaled deeply of the sea air and grinned hugely as his gaze swept up the coastline.
“Snake. Where are we?” Sarge demanded again.
“Ilya’s Islands. Used to be called Oahu, I think, before the Monarch War,” he said as Mack nodded agreement. “This was the beach where I lost my virginity during my walkabout as a young man,” he added with a smile.
From Sarge’s point of view, he appeared happy about their new location. Then his smile drained from his face and he shuffled a foot at the sand, his good humor gone. What’s that about?
Sarge’s dark eyes took in the idyllic surroundings, looking for threats and avenues of escape. Not finding the former or a reason for the latter, she suppressed a smile and shook her head good-naturedly. She felt the tension of their narrow escape fall away, her shoulders rolling back down in a relaxed pose. She looked across to China, gauging his injury. Her assessment was one of tactical rather than medical acumen. This is going to hamper us.
But her husband was tough. She knew better than most just how tough he really was. After all, he’d nearly killed her when they first met.
Thinking of that time, she took a closer look at her right arm where the vibrostar of the drone had struck. The blade had severed some of the artificial muscle fibers and deep inside the cut she noticed a nick in the alloy bones.
Shit, that’s going to be harder to fix than his dislocation. Her arm still worked, that was the important thing.
Snake turned, breaking her train of thought.
“Sarge,” he said in an acrid tone that indicated he was itching for a fight. “You want to tell me what the fuck that was back in New York? You sent those people to their deaths at the hands of those drones.”
“What’s your point?”
Sarge set down the equipment packs and removed the big, hairy overcoat she’d acquired in New York. She tossed it over the rifle to keep it hidden. They wouldn’t blend in wearing winter clothes. China followed suit. He could undo buttons one-handed, but couldn’t manage the shoulder shrug necessary to slip out of the overcoat. Moving as gently as possible so as not to hurt him more, she helped him out of the heavy garment.
“My—my point? You’re asking me what the hell my point is? I don’t want to kill people Sarge. So I guess I’m the asshole!” Snake replied with a sub-zero tone of sarcasm.
As Mack stepped forward and laid gentle fingers on China’s shoulder to assess his injury, Sarge said to Snake, “You didn’t.” Her attention shifted to the man who had spotted them arrive. When she turned back, she found Snake with his chest puffed out and fists clenched, a vein in his neck throbbing. He appeared on the verge of employing physical violence to express his anger.
“Not here,” Sarge hissed, nodding towards the man wearing bright red shorts and a necklace with a whistle who continued to watch them.
“Fine,” Snake snapped after a pregnant pause. “But we are going to talk about this. Let’s get China’s arm back in and find somewhere quiet.”
Sarge nodded. Squatting down, she broke down the hidden rifle by rote, carefully wrapping the parts in her dropped coat. Her arm worked in smooth motions despite its injury, but she shook her head a few times, blinking as the cybernetic implants re-interfaced.
In between pulling pins loose and arranging the parts in a carry configuration, she kept a watchful eye. She could feel a stare from the lifeguard as she finished stowing their gear.
At the sound of a jet engine, Sarge looked up, sunlight glinting off the wing of what looked like a military cargo jet. She attempted to activate the zoom function and was rewarded as the jet leapt into closer focus. Yup, definitely military, she thought as it made a southerly approach. The aircraft drew her eye towards the distant airstrip. With her zoomed focus, she got a good look at a battleship cruising towards a harbor.
In her own world, these were Ilya’s Islands, claimed by the Undying Queen. There was a large natural harbor in that direction, and whilst she was never a history buff like Mack, her own education meant she knew that before the Monarch War, the Americans maintained a substantial naval base there.
Here, there were warships and aircraft that were able to at least delay the Royal frigate, perhaps damage it and maybe destroy it if they were lucky. Likely anything these Americans had would be outgunned. Still, it was far better than simply running to ground and waiting in hope like in New York.
It was a chess game. And that’s the point, Sarge thought, angry at Snake. He doesn’t understand, never did. He came on as a way to get out from under Ilya’s daughter pimping him out. Never occurred to him that this was a war, that he might have to fight, get his hands bloody. Can’t blame him for just wanting to live a life without being someone’s pleasure slave. Still, he’s got to learn to fight for what he wants.
With the rifle stowed, the gear bags shouldered, and the second, small shinkari pistol hidden in the innermost folds of her tropical clothes from Rio, they were finally ready to move out.
Snake had kicked off his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans, revealing hairy calves that would make a sasquatch blush. Mack still wore the long-sleeved blouse that covered her bracelets, but flashed ample cleavage in an effort to cool down. To Sarge, Snake looked the least out of place, even with Sheila’s neck sticking out over his shoulder. In the apparel from Rio, they didn’t stand out a lot; there was just the matter of the observant lifeguard among the remarkably few people on the beach that spotted their arrival. Much to Sarge’s chagrin, the only beach access trail in sight lay beyond the lifeguard’s tower.
As they crossed the sand, Sarge noticed people crammed five-deep in the nearest hotel bar, watching the television. Faint crying could be heard over the soft roll of ocean waves.
“Hon, my arm?” China asked.
With a start, Sarge realized that she’d stopped to stare at the crowd. She nodded.
“Sorry.”
Once his shoulder was back in, she promised herself a better look.
They approached the tower, intending to walk past, winding their way past umbrellas
and towels. The lifeguard was barely paying attention to his section of the beach at this point, focusing almost entirely on the group. The buff, suntanned man leaned over the railing nearly six feet above their heads and pushed his sunglasses up. His eyes were wide with wonder. “Can I help you?”
Nothing we say is going to make him believe us. Well, tough. Let’s just get this over with. As Sarge was about to open her mouth, Snake stepped forward with his best cheeky larrikin grin.
“G’day mate. Nice waves today, eh?” The lifeguard glanced at Snake, but his gaze returned to study China’s and Sarge’s faces. Why does he keep looking at me? Oh right. No Sis-B to alter the irises in this timeline. Violet eyes must be rare here.
“Did you just appear out of thin air?” the lifeguard stammered with a look of pure incredulity.
“What? Nah mate, you been on the beer or something?” Snake responded with a natural ease that reflected his innate talent as a people person. “You mind giving us confused tourists some advice? This bloke hurt his shoulder. Is there a medical center around here?”
China gave him a sort of tremulous smile, turning so he could see the dislocation. The lifeguard shook his head as if to clear it and reached for the first aid kit hanging in the watch station. Using a radio, he announced that he was on a call-out and to have the main tower watch the beach.
Even after another minute of dickering assessment with Mack keeping her mouth shut and looking like a wide-eyed tourist, the lifeguard’s attention still flickered periodically to China’s hypnotic gaze. His use of Sis-B over the last decade caused the violet-tinge in his eyes to overshadow much of his natural, chocolate brown eye color.
“Okay, buddy, just lay down. I can’t give you any meds, but I’m going to try and ease it back in. You’re lucky, I’m the only lifeguard on duty who is also a paramedic. None of the others would do this. But promise me you’ll go to the clinic on Kaiku Street afterwards.”
China nodded and lay down with a hiss of pain. The lifeguard took ahold of his left wrist. Sitting down, he put one foot against China’s neck and the other into his armpit. Extending China’s arm all the way, he pulled back while rotating the arm first upwards, then down and away from the body.
A painful groan escaped China. Sarge could tell from the grimace and beads of sweat on his face that he was in severe pain. A rather large, bony knot that was definitely the upper end of the humerus rose from in his armpit and up towards the shoulder, settling into place with a sickening pop.
Snake staggered for a moment, placing a hand on Sarge’s shoulder for support. Then his legs gave out, and Sarge failed to grab him before the musician was laid out on the sand, smacking his lips and rolling his eyes.
As Mack roused him, he grumbled, “Remind me … never to watch that again … birthing rugrats? Yeah, forget it, mate …”
China hadn’t passed out from the pain, but he was definitely in his own world for a long moment before his eyes refocused and his jaw unclenched.
Sarge thought back to the battleship she’d seen coasting towards the harbor. That kind of firepower would be useful to have on their side when the frigate came looking for them. As the group left the lifeguard station after voicing their thanks, she casually strolled towards one of the hotel bars as if they were simply joining the other tourists.
It had taken the frigate about sixteen hours to find them in Rio. After Prince Ahmed damaged the frigate, there was a couple of days’ grace before it tracked them down. Sarge surmised they had at least several hours to prepare.
“C’mon,” Sarge said, motioning towards one of the empty tables of the hotel bar dotting this part of the beach. She chose a small table under an umbrella and some palm trees, tucked away and secluded. It was a relief to unburden herself of the equipment bags.
With her husband injured and the other two with their own burdens, she felt like a pack mule. She was tired of lugging around the two large bags of important gear, and carrying her rifle rolled up in her coat like an impromptu haversack.
As the group sat down, she looked back at the television screens at the bar. There were tears in the eyes of the news anchors as images showed New York under attack by the frigate. She waited, hoping to see the frigate damaged and eavesdrop on the crowd.
A litany of anger and despair leeched out of the crowd. The images were mostly of wounded men wearing blue uniforms and injured civilians. Shaking her head, she turned back to the table. China was still tight-eyed in pain, holding his arm gently as Mack slipped him some painkillers.
“You rest in the shade, babe,” she said, fishing out a bottle of water and handing it to him before looking across the table at the still fuming Australian. “All right Snake. Was there something you wanted to say to me?” she asked, leaning her arms on the table. Sarge could tell from the man’s rigid posture and trembling hands that he was fit to bursting.
“I didn’t join the Rebellion to kill innocent people,” Snake snapped. “I know what you’re doing. You’re using the people and resources here to slow the frigate down. Military, sure, I get that. If the Royals come here, they will be fighting soon enough anyway, but just regular people? It’s heartless; I thought we were better than that. That the Rebellion was the shield against the Royals. That we protected those that need it—like Lifers that come to their senses, or UUs like China. Neither one of you asked to be an automatic enemy of the realm. If we choose who lives and dies, doesn’t that make us just as bad as the Monarchs?”
Sarge listened, lacing her fingers together on the table as the impassioned plea poured out of the man, letting him get it out of his system. He needed a target for his anger, and hadn’t realized yet that the target should be his enemy, not his team members.
“I have to agree,” Mack chimed in before taking a sip from the water bottle and pouring a little into her palm to pat on her face. “The Rebellion has been a protector for me and countless others. I know what you are trying to do, but isn’t there another way?”
With the words of her companions ringing in her ears, Sarge leaned forward, stressing her words with care. “I’m not the student of history you are, Mack. You’ve had the benefit of a university education and citizen upbringing. But as a soldier, I did study military history.”
“What do you mean?” Snake asked, leaning back and crossing his arms.
“In the early months of the Monarch War, if the world had recognized the threat, we could have defeated them. Power is at a point. You pile enough aggressive bodies against something, no matter how big the wall, how strong the defense, eventually you’ll break through. The Monarchs are still humans, not gods. They have to sleep and eat and crap like the rest of us. We were too afraid back then, too concerned with nationalist pride and defending our own little corners of the world. That fear and selfishness allowed them to slaughter half the world and reshape the rest how they saw fit.”
Sarge relaxed against the back of her chair. “Forewarned is forearmed. This timeline might recognize how bad the Royals are, if we give them enough examples. Whether that is enough for individual countries to put aside their differences?” She shrugged. “But we have to try. Once Jay recovers Mycroft’s key, we’ll have something to fight them with on an equal footing. For now, it’s guerilla tactics, because that’s our best chance of success.”
“Snake,” China said, laying a hand on one of Snake’s shoulders. “We are at a disadvantage here. We didn’t anticipate them coming after us. We didn’t know they could follow us here, and it changes everything. We need to use whatever advantage we can or we might as well slit our own throats now.”
Sarge nodded, watching as the musician took it in. Mack hung her head before China continued, “I’ve lived with the fear of discovery my entire life, but it wasn’t until Jay that I knew what I was fighting for. We’re not fighting for us. We’re fighting for all the generations that will come after us, who’ll live and die as slaves if we don’t do something to stop the Royals. They’ll live forever. If we don’t take this ch
ance and use every advantage, even if it means innocent people get hurt, we betray all those who are counting on us.”
Snake looked abashed, but still determined. “So the ends justify the means? That’s what the Monarchs told us. All for the greater good. I get it. I’m realistic enough to know we can’t fight them head on, but I want to know, why aren’t we working with these people? You said it yourself, Sarge. People were too afraid to work together, back then. Are we?” Snake demanded.
“We just show up out of the blue and the frigate follows us.” Snake gestured to the TV screens showing scenes of devastation and heartbreak in New York. “You’re using these people as foils. They’re just trying to protect themselves. How much better would they do if they knew where the frigate was going to turn up? We’d save those we could. I wonder how much innocent blood on our hands we need before we can never forgive ourselves,” Snake declared morosely.
“We can’t trust them. Not with this: it’s too important. What if they decide they want the world keys?” Sarge countered. “There are only five of us, Snake. It’s a race already. I don’t want a third racer. Do you?”
“We might be forced into trusting them Sarge. I had to shield pretty heavily back in the subway train to stop all those shinkari. I don’t know how much juice the frigate used defending itself, but you have to be thinking that ship would have damned big batteries. If I used fifteen percent just defending against an attack and they only use ten percent, it won’t take long till Sheila is dead and I can’t transit us. We would be stuck, and probably dead. That frigate would have an entire room full of batteries, and it’s flying Heinrich’s colors and compass rose symbol—”
“Wait.” Mack stiffened, her eyes widening. “You don’t think he’s on the frigate, do you?”
Sarge wondered if the Walker King was the one pursuing her team. Given that they had already seen a Royal prince in the field, it was a distinct possibility that one of the Monarchs was leading them. If it had been the Dragon or the Hand of Light, they would already be dead. It wouldn’t be Ilya. As their pathway to eternal life, she was protected more than any other Monarch. So if they were being tracked by a Monarch, it could only be King Heinrich or Empress Yoshimoto. Of all of them it is most likely the Walker King. That wasn’t a pleasant thought. He had captured and killed an astounding number of Rebels since the Day of White Flame. He pursued Rebels with a ruthless single-mindedness.
Suffrage (World Key Chronicles Book 1) Page 21