Fire, Ruin, and Fury (Embers Saga)

by Matthew Taylor

  “They said I could stay for a year,” he confessed, “but suggested I take a junior officer position in the provincial militia. …Something about my emotional disposition and character tendencies make me good for that.”

  While the thought of her brother in the military made Victoria feel physically ill, she couldn’t argue with the results. His frustration with the Commonwealth’s social order notwithstanding, he was loyal to a fault, fearless, and gravitated toward self-sacrifice. He often pined over the country’s interminable unrest and anguished over the human suffering from every disaster—natural and manmade—that punctuated life in the Commonwealth and beyond. She felt Paul had a higher calling, an unstated drive to achieve something more than mere survival.

  As a serviceman, his family would never be turned out from the province he served. As a veteran, if he survived his four-year term of service, he would never be denied his citizens rights again—anywhere in the Commonwealth. It was one of the few commitments the Ellies made in the country’s social contract that they generally respected, if only because it bought them some loyalty from armed soldiers, even after they had left the military.

  It was also the only position they offered him that could lead to permanent residency passes, so his choices were limited to joining-up or staying on as a helper to Shay and Uncle Christian. Victoria’s special status would likely protect her mother, but there were no guarantees that the township would renew his residency pass once his one-year grace period was up and the pull of Alias had faded, as it almost certainly would.

  Her father’s hatred of the military had to weigh on Paul as he weighed his options. Their father, Kahleb, reviled the military, based on his experience in the Cali-Sur militia, and his rants hit fever pitch when he was revved up on methylhol.

  “Ya end up killin’ your own people for tryin’ to survive,” he insisted. “Or killin’ some dirt-suckin’ poor foreigners in God-knows-where. Watchin’ your friends get blown to pieces. It’s a massacre machine. And for what? So the Ellies get richer and start the whole goddamned show over again.”

  More troubling, Victoria figured, their mother was likewise suspicious of military service. Too many stories of wasted lives. Too many veterans like her husband, shell-shocked, traumatized, and rendered volatile and desperate for anesthetic. Shattered minds, shattered bodies, shattered families. Like Paul, Nessa didn’t appear excited about the offer. Her mother was no dummy, though, and Victoria knew she would do the math. There were undeniable up-sides.

  Paul could do well. He’d probably rise through the ranks, assuming he isn’t asked to kill civilians. He could end up with the rights he wants. Maybe that’ll quell all that anger—or channel it so he doesn’t land him in jail.

  By the time they got back to Community Sector #7, Uncle Christian, Aunt Honey, Uncle Joshua, and Emily were already en route from the work site for an emergency family meeting to discuss the test results. Shay was also coming, a development Victoria wasn’t fully prepared for, despite his growing role in their lives.

  When everyone had arrived, Emily broke into tears and threw her arms around Paul, immediately followed by Aunt Honey. It was all she could do to keep from crying herself, and her mother battled tears off and on throughout the discussion. She hoped Shay would weigh in, as his experience gave his input more weight. But he was tight lipped, probably mindful that Nessa was so conflicted. He had shared many his own war stories from his life in the Expeditionary Force, and none of them had ever sounded pleasant, but he had also come out the other side better off.

  Victoria then looked to her uncles for an even-keel perspective, and true to form, Christian walked through the prospect’s risks and opportunities slowly, methodically, and carefully. She didn’t always appreciate Uncle Christian’s unflappable rationality, especially when it applied to decisions affecting her own life, but she welcomed it as the family vacillated and lamented on Paul’s fate.

  By the time the sun was setting, Paul still hadn’t decided. He had two days to decide, and he resolved to think on it more. He was visibly weary from the long discussion, and he probably wanted to give his mother a break, even though it would only prolong her anxiety.

  Of course, any excitement over Victoria’s news was eclipsed by her brother’s dilemma. It was a foregone conclusion that she would join the Track, and though she understood the focus on Paul, she couldn’t help but feel a little cheated that her excitement—and her concerns about such a regimented lifestyle, with so much weight on her shoulders—went unacknowledged. As the group adjourned and she made her way to bed, she felt selfish for wanting more attention. There was really no choice for her to make, but it seemed like a non-trivial commitment, even if it did pale in comparison to Paul’s.

  The next day, after Victoria’s first orientation into the Track and Emily’s day-long work shift, they visited the infirmary again. The atmosphere was festive, with Alias in much better shape and the others fully recovered. Nessa was on site, and her constant presence was a distraction—especially when Victoria was ready to sneak off with Nanner. When her mother’s shift ended, Victoria and Emily were obliged to leave as well, and as they said goodbye, Victoria became aware of her mother’s knowing and suspicious stare at Nanner.

  She’s no dummy, Victoria reminded herself.

  Despite the many times her mother had caught her with boys, even before she had reached the Commonwealth’s age of consent, the walk home was awkward, pregnant with whatever admonitions her mother had in store for her. Sex was the main issue—that and her affinity for pot—that caused the most friction between Victoria and her mother. Emily was keen to keep out of it, though Victoria was grateful that Emily’s presence kept the discussion at bay until she bid her farewells at her family’s apartment.

  No sooner had Victoria and her mother arrived back at their apartment, though, than Victoria noticed the V-plat lighting-up relentlessly, Paul poking at it to manage the calls. Before they understood what was happening, Emily appeared at their door, breathlessly imploring them to come with her to the landing pad. In moments, they were winding their way through the alleyways, swiping their residence cards at the various checkpoints, past the town plaza to the footbridge to the air terminal.

  There, on the other side of the township, they found Alias, flanked by Ben, Billy, Felipe, and—to Victoria’s dismay—Nanner. The head nurse and the town administrator were wishing them well, regretting that his stay was being cut short.

  “There they are,” Alias announced happily to his entourage upon spotting Emily, Victoria, Paul, and Nessa. A flurry of hurried and bewildered hugs, kisses, and affectionate words followed. Emily peeled off to give a more affectionate goodbye to Alias, again triggering the ire of Ben, and Victoria found her way to Nanner, hoping for some explanation.

  “They say he’s good ‘nough to travel,” Nanner said. “And he’s got some kinda business back in the Rocky Mountains Territories, so we gotta go. But I’ll be back,” he added unconvincingly, wiping the tear that had snuck onto her cheek.

  “You shouldn’t go,” Victoria countered. “You could stay here with us.” She couldn’t believe her own words. She had never thought it possible to want a man to stick around any longer than Nanner already had.

  “Babe, I gotta eat, and they’ll never have me here. …Plus, now we know the work’ll bring us back ‘round to you all the time. Really.”

  As if on cue, the pilot of Alias’ raven airship flashed its exterior lights, signaling the passengers to board. Nanner leaned in to deliver a final kiss. Wet and mucousy from her crying, her lips met his, though it all felt like a punch in the gut. She ran her fingers through his wavy short hair and down to his broad shoulders. As Alias and Ben passed by, Nanner reached up to give her hands a gentle squeeze, then grabbed his duffle bag and made his way to the ship.

  The Raven roared into the air and lumbered over the high township wall, and Victoria found herself between Paul and Emily, who wrapped their arms around her waist.

 
Victoria didn’t sleep a wink for the first time since arriving at the township, her mind altering between the coming burden of the Track, the empty ache in her stomach at Nanner’s departure, and the terrible risks facing her brother.

  When the morning sun finally illuminated the bedroom curtain, she felt her mother beside her, stretching, kicking off the sheet, and padding out to the kitchenette to prepare breakfast. Dreading the day, Victoria snoozed a bit before the hushed voices of her mother and brother drew her to the table to join them.

  “The residency passes are temporary, Mom,” Paul said before noticing Victoria standing at the doorway. He went silent, but he didn’t need to say more; she knew instantly what was happening. Nauseated at the thought of it, she sat down beside him and rubbed his back. Her mother’s face expressed something between fury and heartbreak.

  “We have work. …at least for today,” he reluctantly continued. “Vic’s on the Track, and you’re near family—and Shay.” Her mother squirmed, but Paul was stony. “No-no, that’s all good,” he insisted. “But we have to face facts.”

  Here it comes, Victoria thought, and though she knew it was coming, the fall was building in her chest.

  “We’re OK now, but who knows for how long?” He lowered his voice. “We’re also employed by a smuggler and gangster, and they could expel us at any time, for any reason. At least if I go, you’ll have a place anywhere in the province.”

  Her mother tried to counter that it was this uncertainty that mandated that he stay home, with them. He also wouldn’t make as much money in the military as he would staying with the family business, and it would be harder to get their business going without him—especially with Victoria distracted by the Track and herself pulled away to serve in the infirmary.

  Distracted? Victoria chaffed.

  They had been through all this the night before, and it had become a losing argument. He’d be in a better position to protect their residency if he joined the provincial militia. In fact, Victoria found herself feeling a little bit safer at the idea of him being on watch in the province, even if he were deployed in another township.

  Regardless, he’s made up his mind. This’s more of an announcement than a discussion.

  So, Victoria swallowed the aching lump in her throat and tried to resign herself to the loss of her brother and closest friend.

  What they didn’t expect to learn later that day was how far away he would go. Within an hour of accepting his commission at the municipal building, he was caught up in the bi-annual Commonwealth Security Lottery. The Ellies’ scheme to discourage secession after the third water war, the lottery pulled half of the militia forces from the provinces and territories for use in federal forces—the Commonwealth Expeditionary Force or the Domestic Security Service. Paul’s new serial number was sent into the lottery the same day it was issued, and he was immediately re-assigned to the Commonwealth Expeditionary Force—to a unit slated for a tour of the South Pacific.

  Paul was stoic at the news, but Nessa finally broke down and wept inconsolably at the news. Though no one saw the reassignment coming, Victoria again found herself conflicted. She still admired his selflessness, and the fact that he had always been—in almost every way—the redeeming opposite of her father. But she also felt a hint of resentment toward her brother for risking enlistment in the first place—a hint that she knew was patently unfair.

  She was still conscious of the fact that she and her mother were safer in the Troy Township as a direct result of his signing on. But the likelihood of her brother meeting some ignominious end had skyrocketed, and the governments’ commitments to the rights of dead veterans’ families had a curious way of evaporating. She was able to block out the image of Paul dying, thankfully, but the potential consequences of being left to the whims of the Ellies misadventures abroad lurked in her mind. She might never see her brother again.

  As Paul embraced his sobbing mother, practically holding her upright, he caught Victoria’s eye, and the anguish in his face made her realize that his life would now be immeasurably harder. That he was now, and henceforth, in real mortal danger. She bit her lip. Trying to hold in her own flood of tears, if only because she knew that if she broke down, he would lose his composure as well.

  Paul shipped out to training the next week and joined his unit a month later in the Indonesian archipelago. She and her mother were able to speak to him for twenty minutes a week on the V-plat. He always looked tired, but she assumed he thought the same of them. Her mother was a wreck with worry and the strain of serving in both the township infirmary and the family’s traveling business venture.

  For her part, Victoria felt tired all the time, now that the Track had begun in earnest. She was being run ragged, with little time for any of the leisure activities that young women her age naturally crave. Fitting in time with friends, social events in the plaza, and occasional sexual encounters with classmates—or Nanner when he happened to pass through the township—left her short of sleep. With everyone’s work schedules pulling them in different directions, it was seldom that she saw her extended family, and life often felt both lonely and hectic.

  Twice a week she interned at the Ministry of Planning, close to the infirmary, so she was sometimes able to enjoy a little time with Nessa at lunch. Otherwise, they just saw each other at night—at least the nights when her mom didn’t stay at Shay’s flat. She used her flex time to help her family’s company, and though she had come to hate leaving the township walls for the trek through the shanties to whatever work-site needed help, it was pretty much the only time she saw her uncles or her aunt.

  She made a point of seeing Emily, her closest confidante, twice a week. She saved her meager allowance from the Track to pay for a cup of coffee in the town plaza, where they traded gossip and stories about work, the townspeople, and boys. Emily hadn’t heard from Alias since he left, as the local church had been put in Jasmine Goodwell’s portfolio. Victoria and Emily had taken to including Jasmine whenever she was around, and she came with her own set of stories from beyond the walls.

  It was an hour before, when Victoria sat with Emily and Jasmine, eager to break the monotony of her coursework and dreading her return to an empty apartment.

  “Rough, raunchy, dirty sex,” Victoria whispered to their giggles, recounting her most recent exploit with a boy from the Track.

  “Just be careful,” Emily offered after hearing most of the story. “The VD-lamps only catch some of the skin-diseases. The fluids are—wait, you did use the venereal-lamp, right?”

  Victoria blushed with embarrassment.

  “Oh my God, Vic,” Jasmine chided.

  “Well, it’s kind of too late for that now,” Victoria quipped.

  “And the fluids?” Emily demanded. Vic licked her lips.

  “You swallowed?” Jasmine interrogated.

  “Rough, raunchy, dirty, filthy sex,” Victoria repeated, with a smirk.

  “Jesuchristo, Vic,” Emily sighed. “Blood work. Right now. Let’s go.”

  It was an unexpected detour to the infirmary, but her mother had already left for the day, so Victoria was at least spared that embarrassment. The test results came as a relief as well, so Victoria figured she deserved a special treat.

  At sunset, she bid her farewell to Emily and Jasmine, who gave them both Alias’ latest Virtual Immersive Media Experience creation, and returned to the empty flat upbeat and looking forward to a brief escape.

  Inserting the chip into the V-plat and taking one more drag from her pipe, the room glowed with blue-green swirls. Her skin tingling, she mused on the memories. She still found it hard to believe that all of this had come from a random, headlong sprint into dust, ash, and gunfire to save some random church boy and his bodyguards. All her challenges, losses, and worries drained from her fingertips. She slowly re-packed her stash, snapped the mental box shut and re-fastened it under the sofa. She leaned back on the sofa, took in Alias’ art, and closed her eyes to enjoy the drift.

  Chapter
24: Recreation

  (Patrick Baumgarten)

  Patrick Baumgarten sat down in an uncomfortable wooden chair at the far end of the conference table. The room was aglow from the various holographic images, display screens, and blinking computer lights. He felt like shit, with the full-effects of the night before upon him. As he rubbed his eyes, he found it hard to believe how this long day had started.

  Patrick had awoken in a strange apartment that morning, tangled in sweaty sheets, sensing the subtle movement of breathing on both sides of him. His mouth was dry and felt like it had been stuffed with putrid cotton balls. He sat up as quietly as he could to avoid waking his bedfellows, and his stomach gurgled a threat to send its contents back up. What those contents were, Patrick couldn’t fully remember.

  Freeing himself from the sheets, he exposed the brown nipples of a young woman, her dark wavy hair draped across her face. He scooted toward the edge of the plastifoam mattress and gazed across the dingy room. Tattered shag carpet. Cracked and holey plastic-cushioned armchairs. Walls that had once been painted, but now peeled with chalky, discolored plaster underneath. Old stained blankets fastened to the windowsills as drapes.

  He scanned the room for his clothes, buried amongst the piles of bras, panties, mini-skirts, sheer blouses, fish-net stockings, and stiletto heels.

  What a shit-hole, he thought as he forced himself to his feet. How the hell did I end up here? He looked back and studied the two women still asleep next to him. Oh. Yeah.

  He stood up, wobbly-legged, and bent over to fish his trousers from the heap of clothes on the floor, nearly losing his balance as he unsteadily inserted one leg, then the other. His stomach rumbled in protest. He paused as he drew the zipper up over his naked parts, realizing he’d forgotten his boxer shorts; but he couldn’t be bothered to find them and start over. He abandoned his socks as well, slipping his bare feet into his polished leather shoes and began scanning for his shirt and face-plat headband.