Emily and Victoria ordered an iced Cafecito to share. Both felt a hint of embarrassment that they couldn’t afford more, but thirty Kroners was almost a day’s pay for Emily, and Victoria’s student stipend was a paltry sum. Jasmine offered to treat them, as Emily suspected she would.
“Thanks Jazz, but this is more than we can drink,” she lied. It was a ridiculous fiction, she knew, especially since Jasmine was spending the Church’s money—which really meant the Consortium’s money—and who better to buy them refreshments. But their friendship was still new, and she wanted to build it without any burdens of debt or obligation. As the waitress set their glasses on the table, Emily savored a sip, which was tainted only a little by her wrist-plat bleeping with the payment deduction.
Jasmine asked Victoria about the VIME almost immediately. Emily felt a tinge of exclusion at having not been offered the VIME, but she repressed the feeling, recognizing that Victoria and Jasmine knew she would never take the risk of watching it.
The PetrolChurch was central to Jasmine’s life, even though it was more her father’s endeavor. In one way or another, they were all the pawns of the Ellies, but the key was to stay at just the right distance from them—not anonymous, but not relevant to their schemes. Jasmine’s family had treaded way too far into the inner circles.
Emily knew this was hard for both Jasmine and her brother Alias, both of whom were less pious than their father, but nonetheless had to help the family survive the arrangement. Managing the churches, participating in its religious sacraments, running diplomacy missions with their Ellie sponsors, and trekking here and there evangelizing brought its own risks. It didn’t seem to take the same toll on Alias as it did on Jasmine, despite Alias having actually been shot down and nearly killed on one business trip. Emily figured it was Jasmine’s greater affinity for her father and her more social nature that made it harder. That somehow gave the success of the church greater weight for Jasmine, so Emily hoped Victoria had a positive review of the new VIME for their friend.
Victoria thankfully obliged, though her description with terms like “otherworldly” and “surreal”—gave Emily the suspicion that her cousin had again gotten stoned before seeing it. The conversation about it went on too long for Emily’s liking, and she started to become impatient with a sense of exclusion.
Emily was glad when the conversation finally turned to more interesting topics. Boys and boys. Though she had no real love interests herself—save a lonely crush on Alias and a few rare innocuous and uninspiring encounters with Grimm Lockheart, a young man in Shay’s work group. Emily’s work schedule left her barely enough quality time with her family—she liked the sense that she had a venue to talk openly about her life without the inhibitions she generally felt. And she loved hearing about Jasmine’s and Victoria’s more exciting escapades. She secretly hoped one day to share her own, though given the choice, she would prefer to find true love.
Victoria’s inputs were characteristically explicit, hilarious, and a little worrying. There were numerous places in the township that Emily would never see the same way.
Emily asked about Jasmine’s next trip to see Carlos Templeton—a relationship she found exceptionally compelling. The irony of a religious girl having a torrid affair with a playboy Ellie was enough to pique her interest. The fact that it seemed to be enduring and Jasmine seemed to have the emotional upper hand made it even better. Jasmine was also kind enough to layer in her own shocking sexual details.
Jasmine related her itinerary for her next cross-country jaunt for the church. It would be seven more church sites in three weeks before she would return to Oregonia for one of her periodic sex-fests with Carlos.
“Sounds amazing,” Emily sighed. “But you don’t look too excited.”
“I am, I guess,” Jasmine answered. “But after Alias’ crash, traveling is more scary than fun.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “No one talks about the deal with the Ellies, but it’s like everyone knows.”
Victoria cast a reassuring, “who-the-hell-cares?” look.
“No,” Jasmine contested. “It’s getting more and more dangerous all over the country—or at least where the churches are. I could be paranoid, but the Big Five must know by now. We’re having to add more and more security everywhere because the messianics are getting more militant and the marauders and road raiders are getting more brazen and better armed. …And you should hear some of the things we hear in the confessionals.”
Emily looked at Victoria, hoping for a way to comfort their new friend. …Nothing.
There’s no consolation for a life of fear, Emily replied silently.
As Emily drew a breath, searching for some kind of assurance to offer, Victoria unleashed a loud slurping sound, having reached the bottom of the coffee glass. For all of Victoria’s annoying frivolity and occasional brooding, her cousin’s gift for breaking tension and adding levity was a quality Emily admired and envied. The uncouth sound caught the attention of the customers around the café, smashed Jasmine’s funk, and brought chuckling smiles to all three. It also made them remember their surroundings.
“Wanna go to the church?” Jasmine proposed. “We have some lovely iced tea, and the air conditioning’s working now. The vestry’s pretty much done.”
Emily knew this was Jasmine’s way of saving them money and buying them a more private place to talk.
So, they again braved the sweltering walk through the township and out the gates to the nearby church, nestled between the walls and the shanties. The cool air inside the church was fabulous, chilling the sweat that had again dampened Emily’s sandy-blond hair. Laborers were still working to convert the old box store to a place of worship, but most of it was finished. The vaulted ceilings and brightly colored windows lent a spiritual quality to the main room, though Emily couldn’t help but think of Jasmine’s description of the space—the High Time’s church of excess. It was the place where, long ago, people excitedly traded plastic knickknacks stuffed into plastic boxes and baggies, spoiling the oceans. Where they exchanged wooden extravagances, laying waste to the forests. And where they bought and sold myriad machines, poisoning the water, soil, and the air.
Jasmine led them to the vestry, where a volunteer parishioner delivered iced tea and cookies that smelled and tasted like nothing they had ever experienced. The Goodwells were servants who increasingly lived like their masters. Emily wanted nothing more than to savor the treats and return to tales of love and sex, but she knew they had real business to discuss. So, she squirmed in her seat for a moment, mustered her courage, and began her pitch to help her cousin Paul.
She hadn’t gotten far in the story, though, when Jasmine’s brother Alias and Minister Goodwell entered the room, engrossed in a spirited discussion.
“You can’t just volunteer the church for missions like this, Junior. We don’t need to be entangled with the Ellies any more than we already are.”
“This is a humanitarian mission,” Alias struck back. “I assumed you would approve.”
Minister Goodwell shot Alias a look of disapproval. “Of course, I approve of humanitarian missions, but that’s not the point, is it? You can’t make these decisions without talking to us first. And you know full well what’s happening down there. Entangling us even more into Ellie competitions endangers everyone—not least of which you and the ministers who will be delivering the supplies.”
“We’re already knee deep in their competitions. You’ve seen the shipments moving through the churches. God knows what’s in those crates. And the soldiers . . . and the money. Whatever they’re planning to do to each other, we need to be seen as an ally to all the Ellie families—or as many as we can. And if the Chief Regent sees us this way, it could save us from whatever’s coming.”
Emily’s heart fluttered when she saw Alias, though she was aware that she was blocking out the content of his words.
“We are involved, you’re right,” Minister Goodwell snapped. “But to think we can somehow be neutral
parties, beloved by all of them is naïve, and Xavier Mosino’s not to be trifled with. Half our work confessions seem to relate back to his pacification tactics. To say nothing of the warlords, traffickers, and marauders down there who’d wipe us out for sport. There’s a reason we haven’t started on the churches along the border.”
Emily broke her stare on Alias as Minister Goodwell’s words, so similar to the cautions of Shay and her own father, penetrated her consciousness. She had seen some of the troubles first hand at the work sites and in the convoys between the work sites. Mosino was a man to be feared, and the low-grade fighting along the Desert Plain Territory’s borders—including the border with Ozarks Province—was a worry to her family as well.
Emily had also heard rumors. One that Mosino’s mercenaries had kidnapped the daughter of Senator Crispen from Ozarks Province, along with the wives of three of his cabinet members. In the cross-border rescue attempt that followed, a shootout killed one of the wives. The other two soon revealed they had been brutally gang-raped by their captors. Crispen’s daughter never uttered a word about her captivity, leading many to the worst possible conclusion. Mosino, of course, denied involvement, and only the Chief Regent’s intervention prevented Crispen and Senator Guillermo Perez of the Gulf Coast Province from invading. Even still, regular gun battles between militias, border police, vigilantes, and mercenaries punctuated daily life throughout the region. Road raiders and criminal gangs flocked to the area, like vultures to carrion.
She had heard that people were calling Mosino the Protector of Free Texas, as Minister Goodwell lamented.
Realizing that her chat with Jasmine and Victoria was on pause, she sipped her tea. Jasmine’s intent stare made her feel like she was witnessing something important to tell her own family—something more concrete than the rumors they got in the work sites.
There was a devolution camp among the Ellies, she learned, which favored a freer hand for Mosino to deal with instability in the badlands—though no one would tolerate reintroducing the term “Texas” into the national equation. Another camp of aristocrats wanted Mosino’s powers stripped immediately, as well as a formal investigation into the hostage taking event. Some just wanted a peaceful settlement to avoid further conscription of their militias into federal security forces.
A faction, Minister Goodwell suspected, wanted to exacerbate the conflict to weaken the Chief Regent in the eyes of the Great Families, or tempt him into overplaying his hand so they could force him from power. Most Ellies were more parochial and opportunistic, hoping that drawn-out, low-grade tension might break open chances for land or water concessions, resource contracts, or fattened federal aid packages.
“No one knows how the hell this is all going to play out,” Minister Goodwell persisted. “But the re-emergence of pig flu has made it worse. People are blaming it on the lawlessness and the influx of migrants. You had to have noticed the latest VIME was more about peace among men than anything to do with God, but I’ve even heard some of our own clergy talking of home rule and natives’ rights.” He paused and let out an exasperated sigh, Alias looking unmoved. “So, I’m all in favor of aid. But I don’t want to be over-subscribed in the region if it hits the fan—and I especially don’t want my children there if it does.”
“Daddy,” Jasmine interjected at last. Both Alias and Minister Goodwell nearly jumped out of their skin with the surprise of learning they weren’t alone in the room.
“Holy fuck,” Alias gasped, drawing a punitive look from their father.
“Yes, my love,” Minister Goodwell replied affectionately, his hand still resting over his startled heart. He straightened up and flattened his robes before making his way over to the table where Emily sat with Jasmine and Victoria.
Minister Goodwell was tall and dignified looking, something that struck Emily every time she saw him, but he appeared concerned about what they may have overheard. Jasmine noticed it too.
“It’s fine, Daddy. They can be trusted. …They did save Alias’s life, after all. And their family’s building the defenses for half the churches.”
Emily realized, to her excitement, that Alias was gazing admiringly at her.
“Yes, of course,” Minister Goodwell said, still not completely convinced. Jasmine pushed past his reticence.
“I’m sorry to add to your burdens, but our friends have a problem, and they need our help.” Minister Goodwell turned to Emily and Victoria and offered a sympathetic smile.
It was like being bathed in warmth and kindness.
Victoria started to explain the situation with her brother Paul, but she almost immediately started to stammer as she get more and more upset. Minister Goodwell was becoming increasingly confused. It was so uncharacteristic for Victoria to get flustered that Emily at first just stared at her cousin. Finally, Jasmine tossed Emily an imploring look to intervene, and Emily took over, recounting how her cousin was swept up in the Commonwealth’s security lottery and deployed to Indonesia. Dispatched to help civilians, he arrived at a massacre and was later accused of war crimes. Walking through the story, Emily found herself getting choked up at points, and outraged at others.
“Well, they should have comms recordings to verify what happened,” Minister Goodwell replied after reflectively scratching his chin for a moment.
“Yes, Sir,” Emily answered. “They should. But they’re apparently unable to locate the recordings.”
Goodwell’s face turned grave, and he sat down at their table. Emily was oddly relieved to see his concern.
“I heard something about this on my last trip to the Baumgarten Estate,” Alias chimed in, pulling up his own chair. “I didn’t pay it much attention to it when I was there—I didn’t know Paul had enlisted—but Senator Baumgarten is livid. …Apparently almost all the troops there were drawn from the Ozarks, Great Lakes, and Mid-Atlantic provincial militias. They suspect the Chief Regent might be weakening them by taking more of their troops in the lottery and shipping them overseas—and way off into the Pacific. Now they’re doing more combat missions—and a few dozen are being investigated for war crimes.”
“So, we need to find a way to get Paul off the hook,” Minister Goodwell summarized. “Is this something you can bring up with Rashid?”
“Prob’ly not. The attack was against Caliphati Muslims. The Caliph would come unglued if Rashid interfered on behalf of one of the accused soldiers. Caliph Azzam’s worse than Mosino, and he’d would probably take it out on Rashid’s family. …I could approach the Baumgartens, but they’re already working it, and getting one person off would only indict the others. Plus, they’ve got their hands full in a dozen other areas, and hurricane season is underway.”
“I can try the Templetons,” Jasmine ventured.
“They’re no fans of the Baumgartens. …Or the Great Lakes. …or the Ozarks for that matter,” Alias countered.
“No,” Jasmine replied. “But we’re not asking him to intervene for all of them. Just one soldier. Senator Templeton supports the PetrolChurch.” Her father squirmed at the reference. “Sorry, she corrected herself. But if Paul were in the church—” She looked at Victoria, hoping the suggestions did not seem self-serving.
“I’ll tell him to join, if you think it’d help,” Victoria answered eagerly.
It’s the only way the Goodwells could plausibly bring it up, Emily realized. Emily didn’t think it was too crazy to ask, though Paul would need some convincing.
“I’ll send him the VIME so he can study it,” Victoria continued.
“Better to let us send it,” Minister Goodwell said, to Emily’s relief.
“I’ll have to change my itinerary to get back to Oregonia sooner than planned,” Jasmine added. Her father gestured his approval. “Great. I’ll call Carlos to tell him I’m coming early.”
“Sounds like a plan then,” Minister Goodwell summarized, getting back to his feet. “Now, we just need a plan to handle this aid deal my son has cooked up.” Alias squirmed at being called out in front of
Emily, but she sent him an understanding smile before offering them both her sincere appreciation for their help. She knew it was a big ask.
Alias and Minister Goodwell took their leave, and the vestry’s double doors closed behind them. Emily leaned over the table to Jasmine, throwing a nod back towards Alias “I didn’t know he was here,” she said, baiting Jasmine.
“Did he come with his guards?” Victoria asked, hopefully.
“Nanner didn’t come with him on this trip,” Jasmine replied to Victoria, sympathetically.
“‘Em,” Jasmine continued, “I see how you two look at each other. But I have to tell you to be careful. Don’t get me wrong; I love my brother more than anyone in the world. And he couldn’t find anyone better than you. But he hasn’t found his path yet. He’s intense and headstrong. He’s got issues with my dad, as you can tell. I also think he might be . . . well, maybe gay. I’m his biggest supporter, but I’d worry about anyone who becomes his girlfriend. Do what you like, of course. It’s not my place to turn you one way or another, I’m just not sure you’ll find much happiness with my brother.”
Emily was grateful for Jasmine’s advice and concern, though she fought a nagging desire to end the visit and go sit alone in her empty apartment and cry. She was drawn to Alias, and she wasn’t ready to let go of that. But she now also had confirmation that it was a bad idea.
When the time finally came for them to part, Jasmine summoned a rickshaw taxi for them. The day was still insufferably hot, but at least they didn’t have to walk all the way, and Emily relented in letting Jasmine charge the taxi fare to the church. As Emily and Victoria climbed aboard the carriage, keen to reach the shade, they paused at the sight of a small convoy of trucks and attack vehicles speeding past them towards the rear of the church. They both gave Jasmine quizzical looks as their cart’s tiny electric motor clicked and whirred. Jasmine only answered with a shrug and thinly veiled expression of worry.
Fire, Ruin, and Fury (Embers Saga) Page 32