“Babe, babe,” she whispered. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean for it to happen. I know that. Everyone knows that.” She wiped the tears from his cheeks and eyes. “It’s so good to see you. C’mon!”
She led him back up the stairs, eyes darting to windows, eager to get him inside out of view. They undressed to shower, something he hadn’t done in days. The woman’s body was beautiful, fuller in areas Kaiya’s was not.
She tended him, cleaning him. Hot water splayed as they pressed into one another.
“Touch me, Austin. Baby, take me, please. Love me.”
The world had gone strange, the notion of normal a fading memory, yet some things couldn’t be changed. Wouldn’t be.
“I love you, babe.”
Together they opened the way, amplifying everything good and right in the moment. They climbed the heights of their love, abandoning completely the bittersweet knowledge that their stay at the top would soon be over.
Chapter 25
A little kingdom I possess, where thoughts and feelings dwell;
And very hard the task I find of governing it well.
- Louisa May Alcott, 1832-1888, American Author
At the northern edge of Velletri against the forests at the base of Mount Artemisio, the last of a worn road led to the house of Martin Moretti. At one time a modest Italian estate, years of neglect lent the property an almost disreputable air.
On the weed-lined lane leading up from the road, a gray canvas wrap covered a concession trailer used for making food at regional festivals. The two-story home’s stucco and stone exterior needed paint and its tile roof was patched in several places. The porch was overrun by potted plants, many browned with neglect. Parked out front was an aging Fiat Spider with faded orange paint.
Past the house the lane became dirt and curved amidst dense stands of juniper and cypress trees. In a clearing beyond, a workshop stood with an oversized barn tucked away in the far corner, half hidden by branches. Most of the workshop’s windows were boarded up and weeds grew knee-high all around the yard.
Austin and Johan emerged from a side door of the barn into the early evening dusk. Together they walked to the corner of the workshop.
“You don’t trust them.” Johan said.
He’d left the remote and the ship in the hands of the scientists and engineers. “It’s not that, exactly. I just want to be sure I get to come back to it.”
Johan clicked his tongue. “Of course you will.”
“You said Cathbad’s not happy with us.”
“I said problems are making him unhappy.”
A voice called out from behind them. They waited while an old man caught up. Martin Moretti’s sons had helped cover Johan since his departure to look for Kaiya and Ryota. If his choice and all its consequences bothered him, he didn’t let on.
He came alongside and joined them on the walk back to the house.
“You’ve been in touch with Cathbad? Then you know it has started. Three airliners down in the last five hours. Half a dozen bombings around the world, including the U.S.”
Austin hadn’t been told yet. “Nukes?”
“Conventional. Big ones.”
“Where in the U.S.?”
Martin shared a look with Johan. “I’ll tell you over dinner. Anki’s making baccalà with Giani.”
Austin didn’t like being excluded from the flow of information. Mistrust and concern colored his vibe. That he spoke next about his father was no surprise.
“I want Soldado to use Booty to find out about my dad. And Kaiya’s mom, too.”
They had rounded the curve and were greeted by an old Labrador. Martin petted its head and again shared a look with Johan.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Johan said.
Defenses rose. “And why the hell not? What do you know?”
“Relax, Austin.”
A sudden wind brushed the leaves overhead. “Don’t tell me to relax. Tell me what you know.”
Johan shook his head. “I only know about Kaiya’s mother. Nothing at all about your father.”
The porch screen door opened and Anki appeared.
“Nice of you to mention it,” Austin said. “Where is she?”
Johan returned Anki’s wave and looked at Austin. “Passed on, best we know.”
Calming Austin proved difficult, even with Anki’s and Giani’s help.
The revelation of finding Yuni’s body immediately led to suspicion that his father’s fate was also being withheld. He even began to doubt his encounter with Kaiya. Worst was the feeling that Johan was not trustworthy either. So much erosion of trust at once left him angry and volatile.
It was Anki that finally pointed out that he hadn’t slept since before arriving at Cullstone, some thirty hours prior.
“Think of all he’s been through. He needs sleep badly.”
He took dinner on the back patio alone. His assigned bràthair stayed distant to allow him room, though Johan knew others monitored him more closely. It was clear the Runa Korda intended to protect its interests and agenda.
From the dayroom, Johan watched Austin out on the back porch, drinking wine and fostering an angry mood, largely focused on himself. Deeper in, fear curled around his core, birthing the anger and selfishness. Withdrawing offered a buffer against the realities beyond his control. It was an improper and imbalanced response, despite being natural. The concern was where it might lead him.
You need to calm down.
Austin shook his head at the message. I killed Kaiya’s mom.
No, the Comannda killed her. Don’t let her death give them what they want. Don’t help them win. Step up. Move forward.
Thoughts of his father emerged in a stream of guilt. So easy to say. It isn’t your girlfriend’s mom who’s dead, or your dad’s life on the line.
My dad’s life....? The assassin’s long barrel pointed from the darkness.
Austin’s unraveling was understandable but it was time for some harsh perspective. Without warning, Johan ripped his rathad free and slammed him into a dream construct.
Austin fell in a blue sky filled with debris and the nauseating smell of jet fuel. A seat twirled by. A small girl strapped to it screamed into the wind, blinded by blood from her torn cheek. The earth below grew, a slowly rising patchwork of color and texture. What should have been a woman cart-wheeled freely, her head and left shoulder missing. Tattered shreds of a blue polka-dotted dress clung to the torso.
“Don’t pull this shit with me! I know! I know what you’re doing!”
A spiraling chunk of burning fuselage arched towards him and grazed his fuel-drenched shirt. It ignited.
“You fucking–”
Shift.
Charred and flattened debris stretched out half a mile in all directions. What had been homes and people living in them were now only ash and scattered chunks of blackened bricks. Not a living thing remained, not even the memories. Farther out, part of the skyline burned unattended. Normally white high-rises stood sickly gray, their windows knocked out by the radioactive blast. Smoke edged the horizon in columns as if the ocean breeze refused to blow over a place of such death and sorrow.
Austin stared, his earlier anger awash in the reality of the place. In the next moment hills appeared, the sky darkened nearly to dusk, and he stood before a huge crater in the ground. Distant smoke rose from fires burning out of control. Another of the four killing zones. The sheer loss of life hung in the air, connected to a wailing sense of misery and sadness – families and loved ones grieving for their dead.
“Enough, already. Damn it!”
Between blinks, Austin stood at the bottom of an enormous silo, at the base of a snow white missile seven stories tall. The next shift took him to a situation room full of angry Israeli generals. Knowledge flowed like spoiled wine until Austin knew the world’s problems were further wrapped in tensions known only to the politicos and ultimately controlled by Comannda. A possible nuclear apocalypse
still lay in the future.
Austin closed his eyes, finally submitting. “Alright, alright.” He exhaled heavily. “I get it.”
Someone softly sobbed. He stood in a hallway looking in on a small boy crying over a woman shot and bleeding on the floor. Johan stood next to Austin.
“That’s... that’s you.”
The boy Johan lifted a block and placed it over one of the bullet wounds. The imaginary block of medicine had no effect.
“Ah man.” He turned away only to see a man lying on the floor nearby, also dead. “Jesus. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m no good at this, alright? Yeah, I’m scared and angry and you know it. My dad... and Yuni. She didn’t deserve to die. No one did. And I don’t care what you say, I know which of my choices led to this. I carry my portion of the blame and I’m going to have to live with it. I know people want to protect me, but if you know something about my dad, you need to let me know.”
The scene faded. Johan stood with Austin on the porch.
“I don’t know anything. We’ll find out about him, I promise. Just not right now. For the record, I disagree with you. It’s not your fault. It’s bigger than you. It’s bigger than both of us, has been for a long time. We didn’t set this up, the Comannda did. They have to pay and they will. But to get to that point, the Korda needs us. It’s our time to fight. We only get one chance at this.”
Austin nodded. “I know. It’s just that... it’s a nightmare. It keeps getting more strange and I can’t wake up.”
“That’s a big part of your problem. You need to sleep. Really sleep. You’ll lose your mind if you don’t. Ask Giani for help with that, I’m sure she’ll come up with something. First, though, we need to have a little meeting.”
“Cathbad’s plans?”
Martin had shared details of the ultimatums from both the Comannda and Padrig of the Borcelli family. Cathbad ordered the search for Ryota’s body and Austin’s father to be left to lesser Korda. He insisted that without the right focus by the Change, the trackways would surely lead to a darker future. It wasn’t hard to understand the truth of it now.
“Yes. After that you sleep. I’ll ask Soldado to see what he can find out about your dad.”
Austin stood. “Thanks, hacker. I guess I owe you again.”
“Damn straight you do,” he answered.
Johan spent the next two hours lurking, creating, covering, imitating, and disappearing in Saoghal. He absorbed and expanded throughout, gathering information and concepts, tying together the operational intelligence required for Cathbad’s plan.
The High Comannda drove the machine, twelve elite meta bodies hidden somewhere in the endless sea of Saoghal, guarded by an army of korjé. Their invincibility had at its roots many factors but the most basic was the fact that they were simply unreachable. It didn’t help that some bràthair believed they hid on a higher, as yet undiscovered and more complex level of Saoghal.
The search was worse than finding a needle in a haystack because this haystack shifted and convulsed constantly. Without some starting point, there could be no hope of tracking down even one of the twelve.
Luckily for Johan, they only needed one and Steffan had a scent to offer. The scent of a woman.
• • •
Austin brought his plate to the kitchen and rinsed it before joining Anki outside on the front porch with a glass of orange juice. She leaned against a column in the morning sun.
“Well, I bet someone feels better. A solid eight hours.”
He leaned against the other column. The old Lab lay at the foot of the stairs. “Was that the team I heard drive in?”
“Yes. They’re setting up now.”
“Hm.” He looked out over the suburbs of Velletri to a mountain range beyond. Clouds floated in caravans across the sky. “I’m guessing you’re a bit nervous.”
“More nervous for Clare, I think. Still, yes.”
“Cathbad’s sure about this?”
She met his glance. “He said it’s been done but only with fellow Korda. In principle it should work with anyone.”
“Principle doesn’t protect rathad.”
“No it doesn’t.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it’s time.”
They entered the barn through the side door and saw cables running from a van into the open hatch of the ship. Two armed guards stood to the side.
Martin and Johan sat in the command chairs of the craft, talking. At Austin and Anki’s arrival, Johan pulled the remote from his pocket and tossed it to him. “About time you woke up.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
Johan looked to Anki. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “We both are.”
Austin leaned against the open door of the van and watched a technician make final adjustments.
“Vitals are all coming through,” he said. “Shùils are synched up. I’m ready on this end.”
Visible through the ship’s hatch was Johan and Anki, laying on the bunk bed with sensors hooked to their forehead, chest, and arms. Martin sat next to them on a small stool. The pair’s journey would be through Saoghal and on to the target.
Johan briefly connected with him. Wish us luck.
Are you sure about this?
Johan shrugged. I’ve got a way in, as far as I can tell. If it goes bad, we back out and go for a ride. If it goes real bad, they pull the plug and we make for heaven’s gate. Beats an eternity under someone else’s control any day.
Austin sensed a bit of false bravado but not much. What if they’ve figured out your tricks? The infinite loop, for example? You could find yourself trapped.
If I worry about what I don’t know, I’ll be no good using what I do know. I’m not going to worry until I’m out of options.
Let’s pray your options are many, then.
Pray to the Lady of the Stars, yes. Or maybe to your Geo. Nothing more?
Nothing.
From the cabin of the craft, Johan called out, “Let’s do this.”
Austin checked on the readings. Heart rhythm, body temperature, brain wave activity, rate of oxygen consumption, and skin resistance data filled the screens. Somewhere a lawnmower started. The dogs barked. The modified silence settled in the ears of everyone gathered. The technician kept to himself, as did the guards.
Several minutes passed. Martin glanced up from his chair. If things went bad, he would disconnect one or both of them from their bodies. Perhaps they’d be stored somewhere, like Clare had been. Perhaps it was too risky. Martin hadn’t shared details of the plan.
Anki’s heart rate increased while Johan’s brain waves rose to high beta, indicating a very alert, possibly anxious state. On the shùil screen, a scene emerged.
The technician nodded. “Looks like he’s found the target.”
• • •
The two young women worked in the glow of hundreds of white candles, softly sponging their mistress while humming a song of the magician Vergilius. Steam rose from the sunken marble bath in the caldarium, its scented waters combining with the loving strokes to soothe Maria’s worry and ease earthly concerns. Dealing with Bastion had stressed her like nothing in recent memory.
She reached up to stroke the slave’s arm, earning a tentative smile. “More wine, please.”
The woman stood to comply then froze when the first strains of a flute sounded.
Maria cocked her head, preparing a diatribe for the only one who could be so audacious to interrupt her privacy. She sat up and turned, expecting Bastion. The man she saw was not Bastion, nor a manifestation of his.
This man was beautiful, inside and out. A curly mop of hair adorned an alluring face further complimented by a graceful, muscular body wrapped in a pure white exomis and red cloak. He held her with a commanding gaze – instead of cruelty or coldness, his eyes bespoke temperament, love, and soul-piercing interest. A cup of wine and a bundle of grapes in one hand left no doubt who her visitor was meant to portray. She had never felt anyone so perfectly mimic the ancient Greek Dionysus, god of
wine, ritual madness, and ecstasy. His mere presence made worship a compulsion.
The slaves pulled back, unsure of their place. Maria waved them to their marble seats. She stood, her wet skin reflecting the sea of candlelight.
“You are the powerful one, aren’t you?” She watched him approach. “The Change of legend. A fitting avatar, as you must be mad to come to me in this fashion.”
“Not so mad. And no, he will not know of this visit.” He stood over her. “As long as you do not tell him.”
“As if I haven’t already.”
She hadn’t – perhaps couldn’t – and he knew it. He plucked a grape and held it before her lips. The intimate offer birthed warmth that rippled across her breasts. Here was more danger than she’d ever faced and still she felt the thrill of lust. Madness, yes.
She turned away and stepped from the bath to retrieve her robe, feeling his eyes upon her. “Speak now before I change my mind.”
“You’re not so hasty, Maria. You respect your godly position too much for that. I wish the same were true of the others.”
She cinched the robe and turned to regard him. “You don’t know me.”
“As well you know me.”
“I know you are Gerrit Bartel, druid-born, and a pawn of priests.” She poured a cup of wine. “I know you believe us to be evil beyond words, puppet masters of mankind. What else would the rebellious have you believe? Certainly not the whole truth. You would have been better off without them. Still can be.” She walked to a warming bench and sat.
He circled the bath. “Maria, former G1 agent, risk taker, lover of men and apparently of Greek women. Now a member of the High Council, your rise to power was not without conflict, something that haunts you this very moment. Should they learn of your indiscretions, you’d be worse than done. Always at the precipice, you dare dream of an alternative path for the council, one that sees you dominant.” He joined her on the bench. “And that, my lusty Maria, is why I am here.”
System Seven Page 42