The Ellie gawkers were disappointed, however, that no one passed out, though it was clear to Patrick that the Grand Foyer still had the effect the oligarchs intended when they built the room. The eyes of the desert minister and his family went wide as saucers. It was an unmistakable testimony to their stature relative to the wealth and power of the Ellies, with whom they had come to negotiate.
The Goodwells regained their focus and composure faster than most Patrick had observed, and an awkward silence descended on the room as the Goodwells looked to Calden to begin introductions sooner than the sycophantic lackey had expected. Patrick even thought he saw Minister Goodwell’s son and wife exchange a knowing look of disdain, though it was instantaneous and fleeting.
“Uhhhh, yes,” Calden stammered. “Esteemed colleagues, may I present Minister Alias Goodwell, our guest of honor. To his right, his lovely wife Camila. On his left we have his son Alias Goodwell—Junior—and his delightful daughter Jasmine.” Calden then led the Goodwells down the line of executives. Patrick waited for the hand-shakes to finish.
Ashley Templeton – Senator from Oregonia Province
Thomas Baumgarten – Senator from the Mid-Atlantic Province
Xavier Mosino – Acting Governor of the Desert Plains Territory
Colonel Yuan Shikai – Military attaché to the Commonwealth and the Senior Advisor for Asset Protection and Security
Ali Ibn al-Rashid – Special Envoy for Reconciliation from the Pan-Islamic Caliphate and Senior Advisor to the Consortium
Francesca Carroll – Minister of Religion
Josephina Thomson – Minister of Information
That was their cue, so Patrick followed the others down the staircase to the ground floor.
Imagery and showmanship, Patrick mused. Meet the Great Powers of the Commonwealth and their entourage. You don’t stand a chance against the wealth, power, and numbers of the Ellies here. Except for Calden, of course. Whoever put that jester in charge of the welcoming committee needs to have his head examined, no matter what his relation to the Chief Regent. Unless the idea is to lock-down these urchins through fawning, he makes us look weak.
“I introduce the son of the honorable Thomas Baumgarten, Patrick Baumgarten,” Calden said.
Oh shit, that’s me, Patrick realized, stepping forward to greet the group. Reaching Alias in the queue, he thought, And there you are. My mark. Reaching Jasmine a moment later, he recoiled. Wait, I get the sullen, over-intellectual son, and Carlos-the-douche-bag gets the smokin'-hot daughter? I'll have to thank my dad later for that. What the fuck?
To Patrick’s chagrin, the welcome session took over an hour, with additional greetings and niceties, as well as the obligatory “Introduction to the Consortium” and “Nautilus: Triumph of the Human Spirit” videos. Only the melon-infused iced tea, brought and carried away by beautiful girls in silk tunics, kept him awake. Bracing for the long day ahead, he prayed that he wouldn't fall asleep from boredom.
Then brunch, one of the few bright spots in the day, and especially welcome as it was served in Patrick’s favorite place in the Nautilus, the Gilded Hall. The group adjourned to this cavernous dining room, with tall trees reaching toward a translucent mosaic ceiling. Rare birds chirped from the lush plants lining a splashing cascade.
It was another element of the introductory shock-and-awe campaign. The room’s polished dark hardwood finish cast near-perfect reflections of the people around it. Its gold finishings twinkled in the window light. Patrick watched Minister Goodwell run a single finger over the egregiously illegal wood surfaces as he and his wife followed Rashid to their seats at the table. His son Alias followed Saanvi Raman, touching nothing. Patrick again thought he caught Alias and Camila Goodwell exchange an almost imperceptible glance, and then another between Alias and his sister Jasmine. He realized then that the Ellies may have overplayed their hand. Awe had ceded to contempt. Patrick looked across the room to see if anyone else was picking up on the Goodwells’ response, but everyone looked oblivious and pleased with themselves.
The seats had been assigned with care: Patrick sat next to Alias. Carlos was next to Jasmine some distance away. Minister Goodwell sat between his wife Camila and Rashid. They in turn were flanked by Senators Templeton on one side, and Patrick’s father on the other. The other Ellies were arrayed from there according to rank, stature, and relevance.
Patrick hoped the meal might dazzle their visitors, for whom he had a new appreciation. He took a menu from the passing servant for re-assurance. Appetizers of oyster soup or clam chowder—both sea creatures rare to the point of being illegal—especially if uncontaminated. A main course featuring a choice of real chicken meat in a creamy onion sauce, beef pot roast with vegetables, or a casserole of dog and noodles—the last item added as option for less refined palates.
Very thoughtful, Patrick mused, just before realizing the potential gaffe of the menu. He leaned over to his assignment and whispered, “I hope you’re not a strict vegetarian.”
“Not by choice,” Alias whispered back, with an appreciative smile. “I’m not going to ask where the clams and oysters came from,” he continued.
“Best not to,” Patrick quipped. “Officially, they’re synthetic. …But I expect any raids here today.”
As the food arrived, Patrick did Alias the added favor of eating a little faster than etiquette dictated. Alias, barely able to contain himself as he ate, offered another grateful smile in return.
A small chocolate pastry with spiced-milk coffee then arrived for dessert.
“May I have a second cup of coffee?” Alias uttered apologetically, glancing to Patrick for reassurance. “I’d like to be fully awake for the afternoon discussion.”
“I’ll have a second one too,” Patrick chimed, raising his hand for a servant. “Maybe even a third in the discussion room,” he added for levity.
Over the rest of brunch, Patrick gathered that Alias and his family had come to the Nautilus with considerable skepticism. They had to reconcile Minister Goodwell’s natural desire to please God with (what had to be) the Consortium's cynical motives. Patrick deduced from Alias’ description of his parents that the Goodwells weren’t the predatory charlatans that Patrick had always assumed traveling preachers to be.
Alias, meanwhile, was the son of a preacher—not a preacher himself—and his dossiers described him as smart and pragmatic—much like his mother Camila. He was visibly academic and introverted, just as his BIO suggested. He was quick witted too, but the impatience—and abrasiveness—that his file said that engendered was not apparent.
Alias never brought up his sister Jasmine over the course of their conversation, but Patrick had read in her dossiers that she was a generally outgoing and thoughtful young woman. She was the one who would apparently give insight to the Minister, as their personalities and dispositions were said to be similar. She was too far away for Patrick to know, however, and he could only sense that she was already engrossed in Carlos’ charms.
He is charismatic and handsome, Patrick admitted to himself resentfully.
Patrick admired Minister Goodwell’s forethought in bringing his family along. Together, they had balance, and that would help them in the meetings to come.
After brunch, the agenda called for leisure time. While most of the group opted to relax, Patrick’s father excused himself to work, an unusually undiplomatic move for him. Templeton, Shikai, Thomson, Mosino, Rashid, and Carroll then did the same.
The Goodwells, however were to be treated to customized tours of the Nautilus compound. The pairings from brunch continued, with only slight modification.
Patrick led Alias through the Nautilus’ cavernous corridors to the bio-dome, an impressive demonstration of the Consortium's commitment to nature, complete with exhibits of exotic (and often extinct) animals. Some were stuffed trophies of the petroleros. Others were genetic reincarnations.
Alias stopped frequently to gaze at the animals, most of which lived only in OmniComms’ education videos.
Alias began directing Patrick’s attention to some of the specimens, explaining some of what Minister Joshua, had taught him about natural history. Alias revealed that he had been fascinated by the faded animal images on the side of the ministry’s main tent, so he had asked Joshua for special lessons until he knew everything he could. Their names: tigers, rhinos, elephants, polar bears. Dolphins, great white sharks, blue whales, sword fish. Penguins, puffins, bald eagles, spotted owls. He knew where they had lived, how they had perished, and what would be needed to bring them back (if humanity was ever willing to do it).
Patrick realized then that all the animal exhibits were symbolic reminders of the special privilege of the Ellies. He detected conflicting emotions as Alias looked at each specimen in amazement, and he felt a flash of shame run though his body. Shame for a lifetime as part of the privileged class, taking pride in their right to having their way with anyone and everything. Their arrogance, which still flowed under the thinnest veils from public view after the urban rebellions in his great-grandfather’s day.
Patrick, who had only ever seen the animal exhibit as a curious and amusing distraction, detected feelings of consternation welling up. He was on the verge of gagging, so he decided to shirk his duty as docent and lead Alias away from the exhibit to the Hall of Statues. The change of scenery fell flat, though, as much for himself as for Alias. So, he kept them moving.
Patrick’s tour was turning out to be a bust.
Hard to mess up the sight of shit-hot women, glazed in sweat, in the Rec Center, Patrick calculated. Plus, I can’t tell if this kid is gay, so might get some insight there, and I know the ones who would be receptive. Donna, Asuko, Bethany will probably be there for an introduction. Johann too, I bet, if Alias swings that way.
The Rec Center’s fitness room was mostly empty, except for a group of Consortium Security Forces—mostly men. Patrick didn’t sense that the men, though specimens in their own right, appealed to Alias. At the indoor playing fields next door, however, Alias asked to stop to watch a co-ed soccer match. Relieved to see Alias’ interest, and spotting both Donna and Asuko on the field, Patrick led Alias down the bleachers to the field and waved over the girls to make introductions.
Finally, something in common, Patrick thought with a sigh of relief.
Patrick switched-on his more charming persona with the girls and introduced Alias as a VIP guest, immediately conferring upon him celebrity status. Mindful of the time, though, Patrick moved the conversation quickly to the Christmas Gala planned for that evening. With a not-so-subtle wink to Donna and Asuko, he invited the girls to come as their dates—understanding he and Alias would have to tend to some business responsibilities there. The girls glanced at each other and smiled, considering his proposal.
This is finally turning around, he mused.
“Aren’t you dating that Kiersten girl?” Asuko interrogated.
Oh. …yeah. Ah, shit.
A split-second decision was needed. Patrick had only been seeing Kiersten for a few months. He liked her well enough. She was beautiful, kind, and easy to get along with. Her family’s lower social class didn’t endear her to his father, though, and he knew what his father would expect him to do in this situation. Plus, if he gave Kiersten up quickly and graciously, he’d almost certainly buy himself a night with Donna or Asuko—or maybe both.
“Yeah,” he started, feigning disappointment, “that’s ending.” He paused for dramatic effect, knowing he had to appear sensitive, but not preoccupied. “She’s great and all. It just isn’t going to work out. You know?”
I know you know. Your families would never allow you to court someone of lower status for too long either. Then again, neither of your families would be good enough for my old man.
The girls exchanged looks again, as if to coordinate their response. Neither one was a fool, but Patrick knew that Asuko would break ranks before Donna would, so he focused his gaze on her.
Asuko shrugged and smiled coyly. “How about we meet you there at nine for a drink?”
That was as good as a “yes” for Patrick. He would have the flexibility to do whatever task he was assigned, and it virtually guaranteed that he would get Alias laid.
With things finally on an upswing, Patrick led Alias back to the guest rooms in one of the crystal towers so he could freshen up before the afternoon negotiations. As they made their way down the cavernous hallways—conversation jumping between soccer, Donna, and anecdotes from their very different lives—they passed by Jasmine’s door. Alias said he wanted to introduce Patrick to Jasmine.
Introducing me to your sister? That's a good sign. And it will bug the shit out of Carlos, Patrick mused.
Alias rang the bell to her room, and the two were stunned to see Carlos Templeton open the door, shirtless and buckling his belt. Alias’ face went blank. Patrick heard Jasmine's voice singing melodically from the shower room inside. Alias tried to compose himself, knowing his sister had been sexually active since before she had even come of legal age. Still, Alias had the same reaction that any older brother might, at least to Patrick’s way of thinking.
Patrick could almost hear Alias telling himself, We're all being seduced here. We've traded the vagaries of the Wilds for a den of exploiters.
“Carlos, right?” Alias said coolly.
Carlos tried to go into charm mode—usually his specialty—awkwardly offering Alias a handshake. “Alias,” he stammered, caught off guard. “Good to see you. …Err, would you like to come in? Jasmine’s just in the shower, but she’ll be out in a moment.”
You fuck-head, Patrick fumed.
Alias shook Carlos’ hand limply. “No thanks.” Alias’ tone was emotionless, but Patrick detected momentary submission in trade for a furious pay-back later. Without any facial expression at all, Alias then turned back to Patrick and said flatly, “I can find my way back to my room from here. Thanks for the tour.” Alias cast one backward glance at Carlos, whose face showed that he finally recognized Alias’ intent. Carlos looked at Patrick to confirm his read of Alias, and he lost his normal bravado, if only for a moment. Carlos outweighed Alias (and Patrick) by at least fifty pounds of solid muscle, so he recovered quickly, stiffened his posture and shot a disdainful look toward Alias as he paced silently down the hall.
“Nice work, dipshit,” Patrick scowled at Carlos. “Let’s hope you haven’t botched the whole thing. And God knows what that guy is capable of.”
“That little pussy?” Carlos scoffed. “The desert urchin from the Jesus-freak nomads? He’s just the Consortium’s latest puppet-toy. When did you lose your balls, Patrick?” Carlos stepped into the hallway, pulling Jasmine’s door closed behind him. He leaned in to Patrick and lowered his voice: “But his sister fucks like a wild animal. You got screwed on this assignment, Bruv. I might even have another go before the negotiations—maybe even sneak her away during ‘em for a romp. In fact, I think I’ll go nail her now in shower.”
“Knock yourself out. But if you end up with a badlander’s blade in your back, don’t expect tears from me at your recycling ceremony.”
“I’d be surprised if you even showed up,” snorted Carlos, ignoring the suggestion that an Ellie would be recycled like an urchin instead of properly buried.
I wouldn’t, Patrick thought. Things were escalating with Carlos—again—and leadership would certainly frown on a fight, especially here and now. Plus, Carlos had grown even more since their last encounter, and he had been bigger to start with. Patrick knew he’d be on the losing end of a tussle.
Then again, Patrick had to find a way to reestablish credibility with Alias. Patrick’s father had made it clear that Alias was his single, overarching objective—even if it was inconceivable to his father at the time that Patrick might do something so foolish as to come to blows with Carlos. Patrick steeled his nerves, stepped to within a few inches of Carlos and said, “try not to get caught next time, if you can manage that, you stupid prick.” He watched Carlos’ neck and face flush red and braced himself.
Please don’t break my nose, Patrick prayed as Carlos shoved him back, just enough to take a swing. Patrick dropped to the floor, his lips burning and his mouth filling with warm blood. He tongued the inside of his mouth, making sure all his teeth were still in place, only to find two loose.
Carlos stood over him. “There’s more ‘stupid prick’ where that came from, you pussy.”
From the floor, Patrick noticed Alias down the hall, looking back towards the commotion. Carlos followed Patrick’s gaze to Alias, and Patrick forced his unwilling legs to their task. He wrapped one foot behind Carlos’ ankle, cocked his other leg and fired it against Carlos’ locked knee. Carlos belted out an animal-like cry before dropping to the floor. As Carlos writhed in agony, holding both hands around his knee, Patrick rolled over and planted an elbow onto Carlos’ nose, unleashing a cascade of blood that shot down Carlos’ face.
Mission accomplished, Patrick thought angrily—and suddenly eager now just to get away in one piece. He hoisted himself back to his feet and looked down upon Carlos, who grimaced in tending to both his leg and face.
This is going to end badly, Patrick realized. But the deed was done, and there is no going back. He dabbed the small cut Carlos had left on his lip and gave Carlos one swift kick in the gut before following after Alias. Salvaging his credibility with the preacher’s son would be the only positive result from the fight, and he was eager to secure that accomplishment with his father before news of the assault spread and the inevitable shit-storm followed.
Alias waited at the end of the hall for Patrick and took a concerned look at his split lip.
“You prob’ly need stitches,” Alias said.
Alias accompanied Patrick to the infirmary, a blindingly bright room with the same sparkling vaulted ceilings that every room seemed to have in the Nautilus. As they entered, two nurses and a doctor hurried past them on their way to some emergency. Patrick and Alias exchanged a knowing look, each fighting back a satisfied smile. A third nurse trailing behind the others stopped to examine Patrick. Patrick leaned in to her small tab-plat, which scanned his Iris. She then gestured for Alias to sit on a couch in the waiting area while she led Patrick into an exam room to repair the cut on his lip.
Fire, Ruin, and Fury (Embers Saga) Page 10