by Jason Letts
Lowell softly put his hands together, feeling a swell of pride for his baby boy. This was what it meant to be a Bracken. They were the backbone of the community, the ones who had transformed the region from a backwater dump to an economic force.
“I should go down and be the first to congratulate him,” Randall said, instantly turning on his heel and trotting down the steps toward the stage.
Taylor was one of the last to cross, and now he stood among his few dozen classmates on the side of the amphitheater’s base. Randall marched right past him and went up the stage steps. In an instant, he’d taken the microphone from one of the instructors, who looked puzzled.
“Put your hands together for all of these outstanding students,” Randall called, flashing a winning smile and returning fond gestures to members of the audience.
“I should’ve guessed,” Sierra said, shaking her head. The crowd immediately recognized their councilman and voiced their support.
“A captive audience full of positive emotions and a chance to steal the spotlight? I’m surprised he waited this long,” Lowell said, watching his son stoke the crowd’s applause.
“More than anything, I’d like to congratulate my brother for all of his accomplishments,” Randall said, putting his hand on his heart. “Taylor has always inspired me to look at things in a fresh, new way, and I know he’s going to have a big impact on the people of the ClawLands. After all, everyone knows the Bracken creed: ‘People are our business!’”
Turning away from his son’s grandstanding, Lowell opened his mouth to say something to Tris, but found that she’d disappeared behind the groups forming along the aisles.
“Ah, the family creed. Didn’t you say you were going to tell me where that came from?” Sierra asked, unaware that what she asked for was something Lowell wished he could forget.
“Another time, dear.” He smiled and together they exited the row onto the steps. “I’d better say something fatherly to Taylor about starting his life before the celebration starts and no one can find him.”
Offering quick smiles and waves to the people who noticed him, Lowell descended toward the amphitheater’s base and waded through the throng of students. Taylor had the same sturdy build Lowell did, but his strength and size made him easy to pick out. Taylor spoke to a classmate whose eyes grew large at Lowell’s approach, motivating him to turn around.
“May I have a word, son?” Lowell inquired, opening his arms and grinning.
“Of course!” Taylor called, coming in quickly for an embrace. Together they took a few steps toward a high wall that offered some semblance of privacy and cover from the bright sun.
“Just look at you,” Lowell said, enjoying a strong sense of satisfaction. He ran his hand through Taylor’s short, curly brown hair and over his cheek. His son would grow to be a few inches taller than him and wouldn’t have any trouble finding companionship. But Taylor shrank from the attention, and Lowell knew he might never be able to treat his son like a boy again.
“Looks like I made it,” Taylor said, twiddling the scroll that marked his Crossing.
“You did,” Lowell agreed. “You’ve passed the tests, you’ve completed Youth Guard training, and you’re set to attend Lynxstra at the start of the term. But here’s the best part.”
Lowell paused, wanting to be certain of the words. He leaned closer and waited for Taylor’s complete attention.
“You are free to follow your own path, Taylor. The pieces are in place, and that means you can find your passion and follow it wherever it leads.” The excitement and the possibility grew in Lowell’s stomach as he stared into his son’s almond-colored eyes. The opportunity was limitless; he was completely unencumbered.
“Does that mean you don’t want me in the towers?” Taylor asked, sharing none of his enthusiasm. Lowell swallowed and blinked.
“There’ll always be a place for you in the company if you want it, but I’m saying you’re not confined to that. You’ve got a chance to create something all your own and have it take on new life. Who knows, one day it might be stronger than Bracken Energy.”
“I guess we’ll have to see.” Taylor shrugged.
“Make sure you challenge yourself at Lynxstra. When you choose your classes, pick law or science, something that allows you to innovate. Those business management guys have to spend so much time catching up on the technical stuff. And be careful who you fall in with while you’re there,” Lowell said, sensing his earnest advice wasn’t getting through. “And stick to one girl at a time. Trust me.”
Taylor grinned and opened his mouth, but a knocking sound caught their attention above Randall’s grandstanding. Lowell pursed his lips, knowing the cadence of the hard clack and the man who caused it. He’d been a fool to give away where he was.
Carlisle Empry, leaning against a thick, steel-tipped cane, approached. He wore a dark green suit that set off his fading blond hair. Between his mustache and stubbly cheeks, the man maintained an appearance rougher than one would expect for a chairman of the board, but the sharp look in his eyes betrayed an active mind.
“Sir, we do have a situation that requires your attention. I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t urgent,” Carlisle declared. Lowell’s shoulders sank.
“No, I know you wouldn’t,” he said, trying to rekindle some of his cheer when he turned back to Taylor. “Free to follow your own path. Let’s talk again before the celebration is over. There’s more we need to discuss.”
Taylor nodded, and Lowell accompanied Carlisle up the ramp to the exit, where a tram would take them back to the towers. They didn’t speak—not so much because there were other ears around them, but rather because Carlisle had a subdued, guarded way that proved mildly unsettling. Lowell could only recall a handful of times he had mentioned personal matters. Carlisle had an interest in history and had pieces of a rock collection in his office.
The tram passed through the mountain town, offering views of brick homes and hovels on the embankments. The track intersected with roadways for makeshift vehicles sporting large balloons full of the gas Bracken Energy produced. Beyond the town and closer to the refineries, plants, and chasms, the rising smoke accumulated into a haze dimming the sky around the three skyscrapers making up the home offices of Bracken Energy.
“The towers,” a pleasant but tinny female voice said through a speaker as the tram came to a stop. Lowell and Carlisle headed toward the tallest of the skyscrapers, passing a ragged man wearing a dirty tan trench coat who was slumped against one of the plaza’s pillars.
“Can we get rid of him?” Lowell asked the young man at the security desk, who appeared surprised when he spotted the vagrant.
“Absolutely,” he said, but the two executives had already passed by.
“It looks like the new mailings are paying off nicely,” Lowell said once they were in the elevator. “We should have a good foot in the northern markets across the border by the time winter hits.”
“The treaty’s been an undeniable boon,” Carlisle droned. “It’s a wonder the Lyrians signed it, hard off as they are. A complete abdication of their energy sector to foreign interests.”
The elevator rocketed to the top floor and came to a smooth halt. Without a chime, the doors opened, revealing the executive conference room encased in windows offering a three hundred and sixty degree view of the ClawLands. The faint smell of incense and sight of the long, polished black granite table, known as the battlefield, always made Lowell’s heartbeat quicken.
“So what was so important you had to drag me all the way up here?” Lowell asked, stepping into the otherwise vacant room. Carlisle settled near the middle of the table, leaned against his cane, and scratched the side of his mouth.
“Scarcely more than twelve hours ago, a few of our men down in the pits caught a spy from Bolt & Keize. He didn’t have a thing on him except for one of our gas worker uniforms, but he was looking at the drill bits and the capture pods. They executed him immediately.”
Lowell
hardened. He looked at the reflection on the table, his eyes drifting toward the end with his chair. All of a sudden, he glared back at Carlisle.
“What was his name?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not to you, but I hate when things get messy. This isn’t how I want to run my business.”
“Be that as it may,” Carlisle sighed, “the spy is indicative of a larger problem. The situation with Bolt & Keize and their solar operation is becoming unsustainable. We need to develop a strategy.”
“Do we have anybody on the inside there? They’re at risk for retribution and we need to pull them out,” Lowell said, straining.
“Actually, not a single one of our men got so much as an interview. Can we please talk about the threat Bolt & Keize pose to us? From their growth trajectory, it’s impossible not to conclude that they could far outstrip us, leaving us as nothing more than a regional player confined to the ClawLands,” Carlisle explained. His eyes never left Lowell.
“They can be dealt with. What are we going to do about the body?”
Carlisle snarled, gripping the twisted handle of his cane so hard his knuckles paled.
“The time when they could’ve been swatted away was two years ago! Forget the body, sir. We’re at risk of letting a startup mature into a revolutionary force in the industry, rolling out the red carpet for them as they wipe us out. This has gotten out of control! And it wouldn’t be right to say it any other way; the blame for forfeiting our position as the preeminent energy company in Cumeria would be yours.”
Lowell Bracken set his jaw and gave Carlisle an unforgiving glare for raising his voice. He nodded in deferment, but an apology would have been better. Taking a seat in the seamless leather chair that knew Lowell’s body so well, he took a deep breath and looked at the sword plunged tip-first into the table just a few feet away.
Having the ancient family sword’s immaculate steel blade so close at hand did more than just command the respect of his board members and intimidate adversaries. It reminded Lowell that there were still parts of the world where this was the only weapon people had, the old ways were still alive and well, and there were creatures out there and powerful things beyond what he could ever imagine.
“Then let’s take them down,” he said, settling back in the chair. “Set up a competing corporation, replicate their technology, woo their customers away with lower prices, and run them out of business. We’ve done it before.”
Carlisle frowned.
“It’s too late for that. They’ve got name recognition and a reputation to match. It’d be too much of an uphill battle, and they’d be on to us in an instant.”
Lowell studied his chairman, who was proving to be as intractable as this problem.
“But they can’t be that big,” Lowell objected. “By our best estimates, it’s still impossible for solar to supply anyone’s complete energy needs, much less that of a region or nation. And you’re saying they’re going to be a global force?”
He jumped from his chair and went to the tall windows, peeking out at the sun behind the haze. It moved so slowly.
“On Iyne, it’s still not possible to gather enough energy when your power source is dormant through one hundred hours of darkness.”
“They have the technology and we’re getting preliminary reports of remote outposts speckled all around Iyne, the half in light always feeding electricity around to the half in darkness.”
Lowell was taken aback and he glanced back at Carlisle. He couldn’t envision how solar panels could function across the seas where the roaming gatherers endlessly chased the sun and lawless thieves would steal the eyes from newborn babies.
“Get me that report,” he said. “I want to read it.”
“As soon as it’s finished.”
“Fine then. We’ll have Randall use his perch on the Resource Distribution Committee to cut their funding. If they’re so big and are developing the global operation you say, they don’t need any government help.”
From where Lowell stood, he could look out on Bracken Energy’s entire operation, most of it relying on the white and orange capture pods stretching out on the ground like fat grubs. They covered deep cuts in the ground, the Claws for which the region was named, which leaked combustible gas from within Iyne’s core.
The planet’s core was believed to be liquid that reacted with air to form the gas. Capturing it used to be as easy as holding a sheet over the tiny cracks. But now they needed the pods and the drills to eke more out of the core, and Lowell knew in his heart it wouldn’t last forever, even if the people in his company refused to believe it.
If someone could find another way to provide energy for the country, if someone were given the chance to, he could figure out how to profit from it.
“I don’t think siccing the R.D.C. on them is going to be enough. We need to get Ralph Fiori on the case,” Carlisle urged.
“No.” Lowell turned brusquely away from the window and strode over to his chair. “Once Fiori gets involved, everything changes. If you send him after a company, that company becomes a battered, starving beast fighting for survival. We don’t want to turn this into total war.”
“It’s already total war!” Carlisle howled. Lowell scratched behind his ear. He needed to find a way to take control of the strategy, placate Carlisle and the board, and ensure that his family’s legacy remained intact.
“Fine. We’ll go with Fiori,” Lowell said, almost getting a smile out of his number two, “but we keep it quiet. No bullshit lawsuits. No destruction of property. No psychotic games. We have him dig until we know exactly what they’re doing and what their plans are. Once we spot a weak point, we move in for the kill.”
Carlisle nodded, though he was less than pleased. Adjusting his coat, Lowell went to the elevator, pressing the button and waiting a moment. When he noticed Carlisle hadn’t budged, Lowell suddenly regretted their sometimes inharmonious disputes.
“You always have what’s best for the company in mind,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.”
On the elevator ride down, Lowell wondered if he’d be able to get back to the amphitheater before the end of the celebration. He looked at his watch, which told him the cycle time and that there were about thirty-five hours of daylight left. If he hurried, he would make it. At the last moment, he decided taking the car would be quicker than waiting for the tram, and he hit the button for the lower lot.
The doors opened and Lowell stepped into the stale, dim air of the passageway that led beneath the skyscraper to the parking lot and his car. His footsteps echoed against the walls, and the sound soon mingled with that of someone emerging from the shadows and coming in his direction.
Was someone skipping out on the celebration to come to work? Lowell wondered who the go-getter was and what project he or she just had to finish up. He’d be sure to make a note of it. This could be someone’s lucky day. But another few steps revealed that the man walking toward him wasn’t wearing a suit; instead, he had on a stained tan trench coat that fell nearly to his ankles.
It took Lowell a second to remember the homeless man he’d passed coming in. An immediate sense of unease took hold as it became clear they’d meet each other in the dark, vacant passageway in less than a minute. The man had a thick, dark beard that grew from his chin like tree roots from the ground, and the rest of him was gaunt, unbalanced even. Hadn’t the security guard gotten rid of him? When it became clear he had his eyes fixed on Lowell, more pressing thoughts flooded his mind. What was he doing here? What did this man want?
If Lowell had been anyone else anywhere else, he might’ve stopped and turned. But he was a Bracken at the headquarters of Bracken Energy, an institution almost as storied as the Cumerian government itself, and he was at the height of his reign. He could not fear this man.
The vagrant’s hands swung harmlessly at his sides. His eyes were watery and red, perhaps the result of crying. Though Lowell remained the focus of his attention, he appeared cal
m. Maybe this man simply needed some help. While the best kind of charity was a tax-deductible donation, certainly Lowell could come up with something resolve the situation if he were pressed.
Only a few paces away, Lowell involuntarily held his breath. The man veered slightly to his right, and it looked like he’d walk right by, but he stopped at the very moment they met and set a four-fingered hand on Lowell’s chest that glowed with an inexplicable blue light.
“A gift from the Ma Ha’dere.” Whispering, he almost sang the words that seemed to roll effortlessly from his tongue.
Before Lowell could brush him off or even break stride, the man had passed behind him, and a glance back showed him striding away as if nothing had happened. Sighing, Lowell tried to put the encounter out of his mind. As soon as he’d concluded it was nothing, a sudden pain shot through his chest. Taking a deep breath didn’t relieve him of it, and his rapid heartbeat and a feeling of weakness sent his mind into a state of panic.
Toppling over onto the hard pavement, Lowell fell and looked behind him, where the man had vanished. Numbness in Lowell’s arms and legs left him stricken and writhing on the floor.
The possibility that he could die here struck him next. On this day, another person might not walk through the passageway to the lower lot for hours.
Lowell had precious few moments left, which he spent grappling with what it would be like if he were dead. Bracken Energy and his assets passing into Carlisle’s hands, possibly forfeiting its dominance to Bolt & Keize after an ill-advised, bloody struggle, Sierra, Randall, and Taylor left adrift in a new world where their name meant nothing, Tris weeping softly at his funeral.
He couldn’t have it. At this crucial juncture, he would not let it end like this. His breathing grew short and his mind felt foggy and submerged, but he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. Unable to even see what he was doing, he began groping it despite his numb extremities preventing him from manipulating his fingers with any precision.