The Heights of Perdition

by C. S. Johnson

  But not before she wriggled her butt and smiled brightly.

  “Ahem.”

  The quick, sharp cough came from a familiar shadow from far down the line. It was quiet enough that the Master of Ceremony marched on with his speech relentlessly, the small indiscretion unnoticed by the crowd beyond him.

  Aerie let only a tiny sigh escape in protest. No one was allowed to break formation throughout the URS ceremonies, and even she knew she would never be the exception.

  She leaned forward, watching her teacher’s familiar nostrils flair as his large pair of eyebrows sank into their trademark frown. How did Master Browning even see me from all the way over there? Aerie wondered.

  She knew it wouldn’t be much longer before the ceremony was over.

  And then everything in her life would be perfect.

  Almost as if he could read her mind, the schoolmaster glared even more fiercely at her, his face suddenly blushing an angry purple.

  Even as guilt sunk in, Aerie nearly giggled at the reproving look. After six years, she knew better than to disappoint her schoolmaster. But no one could really blame her for her slip-ups today, Aerie decided, though she knew the State wouldn’t hesitate to punish her for them.

  Today was the day when she would finally join the rest of her unit in the New Hope Military Academy. She would prove them wrong, at last, and they would finally accept her.

  Sadness gently brushed through her. This is the day I’ve been waiting for ever since Mom died.

  Aerie had heard the rebellious mutterings about Heaven, a place in the clouds where people would go when they died. She might have thought her mother was watching her from there if most of New Hope wasn’t located underground, and if the Earth’s ominous, gray clouds didn’t look so opaque.

  And if Heaven wasn’t illegal, she added belatedly to herself.

  But she hoped if her mother was watching, she would be proud. Aerie had put more care into her appearance than usual; her hair, a golden shade of ginger, was pulled back into the tightest bun she could manage, with her long bangs tucked underneath her URS student service hat. She was wearing her best uniform, and her boots, perpetually crinkled and scuffed, were buffed to an acceptable shine.

  Of course, no one noticed. But at least no one teased her for looking sloppy or trying to draw attention to herself. Aerie decided that alone was a good sign.

  Nothing is going to go wrong today.

  Another smile slipped out.

  “Aerie.”

  At the sound of her name, Aerie glanced over to her to her left. She nearly melted at the sight of her longtime friend, Brock Rearden, until she saw he was signaling her to get her to be still.

  She rolled her eyes at him, feeling unexpected irritation starting to push through her enthusiasm. She could understand the schoolmaster’s rebuke, but Brock’s was frustrating.

  But then, she reasoned a moment later, there was a rumor going around that Brock was going to ask her to the Military Academy Ball, the opening gala where all the new recruits and accepted personnel were honored.

  Maybe that was why he was concerned, Aerie thought. He wouldn’t want to go with me if I caused a scene at graduation.

  After all, Brock had an impressive reputation as one of the top students in their class. Other rumors she heard said that he had been talking with the Military Academy Board since the previous year.

  While getting into the military academy would mean proving her worth to her unit, showing up with Brock Rearden would prove her value to her peers.

  Not that that is really a major concern, Aerie told herself. There were other, more important, elements that went along with getting invited to the ball by the most handsome, cunning, and eligible military recruit.

  She sighed silently and happily to herself. The ball was a tradition in the URS, and it was the perfect place for her to get her first date, her first dance, and even her first kiss.

  Which Brock was perfect for, too, she thought, still pretending to pay attention to the speaker as she conjured up an image of her friend.

  Like many military recruits, his hair was cut short, but its wheat color reminded Aerie of the surface, of the softness of soil or the warmth of fur. His eyes were a combination of green and brown, which made her think of her mother’s small garden, with specks of life surrounded by the warmth and power of the earth.

  Power, Aerie decided, was a word that matched Brock. While his ruggedly handsome face and build were hard to miss, it was his strength and shrewdness that made him stand out among everyone else in the room. He projected an aura that was both protective and predatory.

  It’s hard to imagine Brock not getting into the military, Aerie thought appreciatively.

  “—and now, comrades, please join with me in welcoming our graduates to their new ranking as full members of the United Revolutionary States.”

  Aerie, along with her class, automatically saluted the audience with the formal RSS, the Revolutionary State Salute. Her right hand closed into a fist and then covered her heart, before she bowed her head. It was the URS salute of the highest order, required as a sign of respect.

  She’d always thought it was a bit odd, but she heard the legends and stories of the past—at first reluctantly, then insatiably—which told of ancient nations that showed respect by grasping hands, bowing deeply, and exchanging name cards. Before the URS rescued the citizens of Earth, there was so much diversity and so many differences it was impossible to maintain any working order. She could easily see the Founding Fighters working to compromise on a design for respect, and that was how they arrived at the Revolutionary State Salute, before the first dictator, Hal J. P. Rothsburton, approved and mandated it.

  “Thank you for that warm welcome to our new graduates.”

  Aerie struggled not to break formation. If there was any time to ensure she was following orders perfectly, it was at that moment.

  Dictator Osgood is here!

  She peeked over at him, excited to see the leader of the fair world speaking at her school. It was a special occasion indeed, even if his wrinkles seemed deeper and he was shorter than when he was onscreen; he couldn’t have been any taller than Brock.

  Like all educated students, Aerie knew Dictator Osgood had been the URS Dictator for about eleven years, ever since the previous ruler retired.

  He just wasn’t what she would call handsome, Aerie decided privately.

  “—pleased at the new recruits for the Military Academy this year. It will prove to be an interesting year, too, as we have received a message from the so-called ghost of Captain Chainsword.”

  Silence remained, but stillness suddenly accompanied it.

  Aerie glanced to the left side of the podium, where His Excellency stood. Posted up on the walls were several pictures of defectors. Some, long destroyed, were marked off with a large, red slash. Others had faded over time, forgotten to the passage of progress.

  Except one.

  Among the sea of criminals, Captain Chainsword’s profile stood out. Aerie, having little to no desire to pay attention to the various lectures she’d been forced to attend in the auditorium, was familiar with the pirate’s features. Under the crimson slash that crossed his profile, his expression remained steadfast. A pirate hat was perched crookedly on his head, while his hair was black as starless night, running into his gray and white beard. His eyes, clear and sharp despite their age, mocked the onlooker with an almost compassionate gaze, reminding them all that there were some who would have power at any price.

  “Captain Chainsword, as you know, has taken it upon himself to declare war on us, despite his death ten years ago,” Osgood continued. “He has cut our access to our satellite systems, making our scouting attempts to find survivors out in the nuclear and chemical minefields much more arduous and hazardous. His ship, the Perdition, has remained undetected. But last night, we received a transmission.

  “I am here to warn you, and remind you of the great sacrifices our nation has made over the p
ast decades. Ecological disaster, accelerated by war—not the least among the list the destruction of the Persian oil fields, the nuclear discharge compromising the Old Republic electric grids, the chemical warfare unleashed upon the oceans—has forced us to find a new way of life.”

  Osgood paused, and Aerie quickly glanced at Brock, who was eying the poster of Captain Chainsword with barely contained hatred.

  “Fortunately for us, it was a better life. With all the capitalists and bankers”—a collective flinch went through the crowd at the mere mention of the former state’s slave owners—“rounded up and routinely executed, we were free to begin again, and in a fair manner.

  “But now, Captain Chainsword’s ghost seeks to return us to the days of market competition and economic inequality. In his quest for power, he has continued over the years to reign down tyranny against us, saying the days of the dictators are nearly over. Captain Chainsword’s message to us this time was simple: ‘War is coming to New Hope.’”

  As a collective wave of unmoving surprise rippled through the audience, Aerie gasped. Immediately, her face burned red. She quickly tried to quash her feelings of reflexive shame.

  After years of training, even the most outraged of individuals would be able to restrain themselves, especially in the face of a credible threat.

  You’d think I would have learned that by now!

  Osgood cleared his throat loudly. “While it might surprise some of you, I want you to know I am pleased by this. Since Captain Chainsword has been living on his starship, he has allowed himself to remain focused on his quest for power. In attacking New Hope, he will find that we have changed much over the last ten years.

  “Indeed, if you recall your lessons on our history, New Hope was chosen as the United Revolutionary States’ great capital for its values and resistance. When unscrupulous villains would try to bomb or attack it, we would rise when knocked down, coming out more powerful than ever before,” Osgood said, referencing the tranquil times before the URS had been born, before the nuclear ash and toxic clouds made a large part of Earth uninhabitable. “As a result, I am confident we will be able to withstand his attack.”

  Aerie puffed up with pride. She was honored to be a resident of New Hope. Even in the dark days of capitalism, New Hope, previously known as New York City, was a beacon of hope to people all over the world.

  “To prepare for this,” Dictator Osgood continued, “I am personally reminding all citizens of New Hope to remain in their underground living quarters.”

  Her heart stilled as her intuition flared.

  Osgood gestured to the right side of the stage. “It is my pleasure to have with me today General St. Cloud, who, as my new Lieutenant Commander-in-Chief, in addition to overseeing the new graduate PARs today, will be recruiting and training Emergency Responders to help with any attack Captain Chainsword’s ghost might be foolish enough to unleash on our city.”

  Aerie’s gaze sharpened as her father briefly glanced in her direction. Her heart stopped as he caught her eyes with his.

  Then he turned and took his position at the podium. Without so much as a word of welcome to his audience, General St. Cloud began listing off all sorts of reminders and procedures.

  Aerie felt her heart slowly, but loudly, resume its beating.

  If her father was here, maybe her brothers would need to leave before she saw them. As fighter pilots in the Air Force, they might be called to the first line of defense for the URS.

  Her gaze went back to Brock. He’d always dreamed of flying.

  If war is coming to New Hope, he might get his chance.

  Aerie wasn’t sure of the exact moment their graduation ceremony ended, but when she was finally allowed to smile, she suddenly had to force it.

  ♦3♦

  Despite the events at graduation, Aerie reasoned that there was no reason to believe Dictator Osgood’s appearance was cause for immediate concern. She could still have her perfect day.

  After all, she had passed her classes with high marks in tactical and combat skills, both difficult and necessary requirements for entering the URS Military Academy. There was also her final graduation project, where she’d prepared and delivered a research project presentation. Her instructors had given her many good compliments on that.

  Surely, that will be enough to get me into the military, she thought.

  “Aerie!”

  She turned and smiled brightly as Brock came up to her. “Hi, Brock.”

  “That was so intense back there,” Brock said, nodding toward the stage. “I’m so glad you didn’t slip up. Master Browning was about ready to blow, I’m sure.”

  “I’m sure he should be used to it after all these years,” Aerie said with a laugh. She tried not to let the fact that it was true hurt her. “Besides, if he did, wouldn’t he be the one who would need to be reeducated in self-control?”

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “Though you could get penalized for it as well, for being the cause of it.”

  Does Brock have just absolutely no sense of humor today? Aerie wondered. She shrugged it off; maybe he was, like her, just too overwhelmed by the ceremony and the PARs coming up.

  “So, when do you go in for your PAR?” Aerie asked, tucking her hands behind her back.

  “My review is supposed to be soon.”

  “Oh, really? You’re lucky. I’m expected to be called up close to last.”

  “Well, you do have to consider your privilege,” Brock told her. “Being a member of General St. Cloud’s unit and all.”

  “Ha!” Aerie laughed. “The General is hardly around for me to see him, let alone talk military strategies. I was lucky he remembered to enroll me in combat class this year.”

  She didn’t mention that his appearance at the graduation ceremony was the first time she’d seen him since the mid-quarter retreat several weeks ago.

  “Others might think you are at an advantage, and it’s important to make sure these things are fair,” Brock said.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Aerie asked with a frown. “You’re sounding an awful lot like my instruction manual on how to be an officer, instead of my comrade.”

  “Aerie, come on,” Brock muttered. “We’re graduates now. You know as well as I do that the facts are not more important than feelings on this sort of matter; in fact, that’s pretty close to breaking the State Codes. That’s how the laws are here.”

  Aerie sighed. “Speaking of facts,” she said. “I heard a rumor that you were going to take someone from our class to the Military Academy Ball.” She smiled again, trying to bat her eyelashes the way her older roommate and sister, Serena, did when flirting with one of her many admirers.

  “I do have an idea of who I’d like to ask, if I get in,” Brock said. He gave her a kind smile—the first one all day from him, she pathetically noted—and winked at her.

  Aerie felt her heart race as she wondered if he was going to ask her to the ball then and there.

  The rush of possibility was instantly derailed.

  “I’m waiting. If I ask anyone to the ball, I’d hope she would be accepted into the academy, too.”

  “You wouldn’t just want to ask any girl?” Aerie asked, surprised. “Even if she didn’t get in?”

  “Nearly all our classmates are hoping to get into the academy,” Brock reminded her. “If I ask someone who didn’t get it, can you imagine how awkward it would be to explain to everyone else at the ball why she didn’t get in?” He shook his head. “It would be an insult.”

  “Not for your company,” Aerie told him wistfully.

  “It’s no matter now. I haven’t been accepted yet.”

  “You don’t think you’ll get in?” Aerie playfully risked punching his shoulder. “Come on, no one is going to get in if you don’t. You’ve got the highest scores and your final presentation was phenomenal, I heard.”

  “Well, General Sootan and General Tanner were both very interested in my analysis of hand-to-hand fighting techniques from the pre
-war era of the Old Republic,” Brock admitted, some color coming to his cheeks.

  Finally, Aerie mused. A topic she could get him to focus on that didn’t make her angry in the process. “Oh, I heard it was the best!”

  “Did you really?” Brock grinned. “Well, I do want to look into climbing up through the ranks of the military quickly. Maybe all that research will come in handy.” He nodded toward the towering profile of Captain Chainsword. “Especially if that traitor decides to come and visit us. I’d love the chance to prove he’s not a ghost.”

  “Let’s not talk about him,” Aerie said. “He’s an unpleasant topic.” There was more than one reason Aerie did not want to talk about Captain Chainsword. For all the scornful derision she saw in his picture’s gaze, she could not shake the feeling he was more than just an enemy.

  She’d heard the stories, the rumors—the ones the URS never encouraged. They said he’d been betrayed by those closest to him, and died of a broken heart more than the bullet that pierced it.

  How evil did you have to be before the people who knew you best betrayed you? Aerie wondered. She shuddered at the thought, thinking of her own unit. They would not be happy to know she had been listening to rumors again.

  “All right.” Brock shrugged. “If you don’t want to. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable on purpose.” He cleared his throat. “Tell me again, what did you present on for the URS General Education Board?”

  “I was given the assignment on weaponizing pollen,” Aerie reminded him. “Master Harrick thought I would enjoy that topic since it was on plants. She thought weaponizing them would be a fun project for me, since I wanted to go into the military.”

  “What did you find out?” Brock asked politely.

  “Nothing, really. It’s a terrible idea, so I researched plant generations instead. It’s really quite—”

  “What?” Brock rounded on her. “You defied the Board’s orders for your assignment?”

  “I gave them a better one,” Aerie insisted. “Breeding plants for war might not be technically chemical warfare, but it is still—”