Born Hero

by S A Shaffer

  David leaned forward and looked at the photograph. It was of a woman, middle-aged, deathly pale, with a white sheet covering everything below her shoulders. She was so gaunt that it took David a few moments to recognize her.

  “Paula!” David gasped. “Is she—”

  “Dead,” Winston said, nodding slowly. “The boys found her body in a Capital City alley last night. We estimate she’s been dead three days or so.”

  “No,” David whispered, then swallowed. “Paula … no.”

  David saw Blythe reach a shaking hand up to the photo, but he stopped just short of touching it. His eyes went wide as his mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

  “Representative Blythe?” Winston asked. “Is it her?”

  Blythe nodded. His hand fell to his side, and he turned and walked over the window, gazing down on the city. He cleared his throat. “How?” he asked, not looking up from the window.

  “Ms. Carbone was tortured, sir, best we can tell. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not go into detail.”

  Mercy put a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp.

  “Tortured?” Blythe asked. “Maker above.”

  David saw Blythe swallow hard and shut his eyes.

  A moment later Blythe looked up. “I’m sure you have some questions for us, Inspector.”

  “Yes, Representative,” Winston said. “In point of fact I do.”

  Blythe turned to Mercy, who still sat in her interview chair. “Mercy, I know you have not signed any contract yet, and I do not mean to demean you, but would you mind terribly making some tea for us while the inspector asks his questions? I could do with a good strong cup right about now.”

  “Of course, Mr. Blythe,” Mercy said, rising.

  “Thank you, dear. You will find everything in the corner over there. Inspector, please.” Blythe turned to Winston and motioned to a chair.

  “Much obliged, sir,” the inspector said.

  David took the chair opposite.

  “Let’s see here.” Winston rummaged through a few pages in a little book and wetted a pen with his tongue. “Can either of you remember the last time you saw Ms. Carbone?”

  “For my part it was the morning of the 10th Assembly,” Blythe said, his tone somber. “She saw us off from the office and wished me luck before my … my grand speech.”

  He held his composure, but David saw a few tears run down his cheek.

  “And you, Mr. Ike?” Winston asked as he jotted a few things down in his book.

  “Same, sir. I was with Mr. Blythe—No, wait, I did see her after that,” David said, mouth falling open as he remembered.

  Winston paused and looked up from his book.

  David closed his eyes and thought back to the last moment he had seen Paula. “It was at a distance, and only for a moment. The Assembly vote had just concluded. I took notes on any disgruntled representatives in the room. That’s when I had a thought to look up in the gallery. Paula was applauding with the other citizens.”

  “Was there anyone with her, or anyone near her that you recognized?”

  David thought about the man that stood in the shadow of the curtains, but he had absolutely no idea who that individual was. What was he going to say? Yeah, there was a strange man that didn’t clap when he was supposed to. He wore a funny hat, and I think he looked at me.

  David shook his head. “No one I could identify, sir. It was just too far away.”

  “Was there anyone in particular who looked unhappy after the speech?” Winston asked. “You mentioned you wrote some notes down.”

  “Nobody out of the ordinary. Speaker Walker was none too pleased, obviously. A few other representatives who sought to steal away Public Pharmaceuticals after the Third got it. Maybe one or two other aides, but none of them looked like they wanted to kill anyone. It was just politics.” David gripped his chair to keep his hands from fidgeting. It was one thing to sit in the presence of a gorgeous girl, but to do so while an inspector asked you questions? He clenched his fists so hard his metal fingers scored the wood.

  The inspector grunted as he made some more notes. “Politicians never look angry enough to kill anyone, and they never do kill anyone. They simply have someone else do it for them.” He breathed out a puff of air. “Do any of you know if Ms. Carbone had any enemies? Anyone who would want to cause her harm?”

  “No one,” David said. “I only knew her for ten days, but I can’t imagine anyone would want to do her harm.”

  “Same,” Blythe said. “She’s been my secretary for just over five cycles. She was the best secretary I’ve ever had. Knew what I needed even before I did. Kind … considerate … and absolutely despised politics.” Blythe choked out a half sob, half laugh.

  Just as David wondered if Blythe would be able to hold it together, Mercy walked over with a tray of tea, offering a cup to Blythe first, who took it with grateful, teary eyes.

  “Thank you, lass,” Winston said as he took a cup, adding six spoonsful of sugar before continuing. “Did she have any family you know of? Our records say she lived alone.”

  “She was an orphan,” Blythe said. “She mentioned that her parents died cycles ago. I’m not sure about any other family. I … I didn’t know her before, and she never told me anything about her private life.”

  Winston took a long sip of his tea. “I admit we don’t have much to go on with this case. Everything you’ve told me here only confirms our fears. Ms. Carbone lived the quiet life. The facts surrounding her death are very random. There is a good deal of crime within the Capital City, especially for well-dressed women like Ms. Carbone. It could, indeed, be a random attack on a vulnerable target, but the manner of the attack gives me pause.” Winston took another sip of tea.

  “Why is that, sir?” David asked.

  Winston looked into his tea. “Nobody tortures a woman like that unless they are extremely depraved. Almighty knows we have our fair share of those these days, but I can’t imagine Ms. Carbone frequenting the kinds of areas where people like that roam. That alley we found her in, I doubt she’d ever been a mile from it while she lived. No, somebody killed her miles from there and dumped the body, separating her from every possible lead.”

  “Is there any hope, then?” Blythe asked. “Any hope of bringing whatever monster did this to justice?”

  “Some, Mr. Blythe,” Winston said, offering a small nod. “Some, but not much. We will keep looking, regardless.”

  “We thank you, Inspector,” David said, as he could tell Blythe was in no condition to see the constable out. “Paula was a good woman. If you need anything to help you keep looking for her murderer, remember that.”

  The inspector finished his tea and set the cup down on the desk. “That I will, Mr. Ike. That I will. I’ll leave you to it. It appears you have a lot going on right now.”

  David got the door for Winston, grimacing at the gawking women before he shut it. As he turned back, he saw Mercy. What an odd interview this must be for her.

  She stood quietly a few feet behind Blythe, hands clasped behind her back. She really was beautiful, but in a different way than the hussies in the waiting room. How did the woman manage to remain somber and regal at the same time? She looked up and caught David staring at her. He tried to cover it up with a reassuring smile, but he felt pretty sure he looked like an idiot—again.

  “Mr. Blythe,” David said. “We have people waiting, sir. Would you like me to end the process for the day? We can start afresh in the morning.”

  Blythe looked up from where he stood. Then he shook his head. “No. Let’s keep on and be done with this dreadful business. Ms. Lorraine, are you sure you want to work for us? It’s not too late to back out.”

  “Why would I leave, sir, when I’m needed most?”

  Blythe gave a tight smile. “Good girl. I’m appointing you as my second aide. David, add secretary to our list of available positions.”

  David nodded, feeling a swirl of mixed emotions, made all the worse when he
opened the office door and saw the crowded room of women.

  THE COST OF LOVE

  David took a deep breath and let the cool mountain air wash through his lungs. It smelled of pine and prickled as it flowed through his nose. The mountains of the Seventh District were tall and white capped. Snow glistened, its milky surface broken up by gray stone and green tree. Frozen waterfalls poured out of crevices in the rock, some still flowing beneath the crystal encasing. David’s hair whipped in the wind as they rounded a mountain peak at a reckless speed, yet he smiled in defiance of the danger.

  “David!” his father called. “This next one’s yours. Take the wheel.”

  “Yes, Father,” David said as he took hold of his safety line and ran back to pilot the yacht. Most would stumble if they tried the same trick, but he had practically been born on an airship and his balance was superb.

  “Be careful, David,” his mother said, chocolate locks flowing in the wind. “If you break your leg doing something stupid, I swear to the Maker I’ll break the other one.”

  “Don’t distract me, Mother,” David said as he passed her. “I could break my leg.” He ducked as she swatted at him. A moment later, and he reached wheel.

  “Right, now take the wheel,” Father said, then, “Do you have control?”

  “I have control,” David replied.

  He was only a few inches shorter than his father now, and still growing. With any luck at all, he might just fill in the family’s military jacket.

  “Good man,” his father said. “I want you to round the peak and dive into the ravine. What are the concerns you need to compensate for?”

  “There’s a downdraft in the ravine,” David said. “I’ll have to flicker the altitude control and level off the balloon’s temperature as it takes me down.”

  “And if you want to pass between the mountain and the Gländzend Falls?” his father asked.

  “Oh … can I? Please, Father?” David asked, his eyes alight.

  “Perhaps, if you can correctly tell how to do it?”

  David nodded. “I’ll need to lower the balloon temperature as I near the falls to compensate for the cooler temperature, and then bank toward the mountain to counteract the backing wind.”

  “Then set to it,” Father said with a devilish smile.

  David gripped the wheel with one hand and the balloon temperature control with the other. Then he lined up the front of the yacht, just to the left of the mountain peak, leaving enough room to pull away if there was something unexpected on the other side of the ravine.

  This was a forty-four-foot Seeker 17, one of the less expensive pleasure yachts. The Seeker 17 was an older model, which still had a hanging fuselage cabled to the underside of the oblong balloon. The sleek fuselage looked like a miniature seafaring frigate of old—at least it would if someone removed the wind fins that extended off the bottom and sides of the vessel. The Seeker’s two decks allowed for a small cabin, though it was of little use after David and his father upgraded the airship’s mechanics. The mini-kitchen and single bed had to go in order to fit the new burner and extra engine. While Seekers usually had two engines, this one had three: one for forward thrust, and two for directional thrust. The new burner provided exceptional lift, giving the pilot superb altitude control. All in all, the little airship pulled its weight and then some. Just the other day, David and his father clocked the Seeker doing 130 grandfathoms an hour. Not bad. Not bad at all.

  David smiled as he felt the wind picking up behind him, catching the balloon and pitching the ship forward a little. He adjusted his pitch and the ship responded with grace. As the maneuver drew ever closer, David felt sweat dripping down his arms, despite the cold. Then it was upon them. The yacht passed over the mountain and the ground fell away beneath them. For a spit second the airship hung in the air and David had an instant to admire the spectacular view of the winter valley, but then David saw his mother’s hair shift from flowing with the wind to floating against gravity. He felt a tingle in his stomach and knew they were about to dive.

  “Hold fast!” his father said as the yacht dropped with the downdraft.

  David braced himself and the ship dipped forward and dove into the ravine, eating away the distance with a ravenous appetite. He had somewhere around seven thousand feet between him and the icy valley floor. His hand was slippery on the altitude control, nervous sweat fouling his grip. David shared a moment with fear, but then he saw it: the Gländzend Falls. An enormous jet of water spurted out from the cliff face in a jagged ice encasement—frozen solid in an instant of time. It plunged the entire depth of the valley, melting halfway down into water and filling Diamant Lake. David spun the wheel and leaned as the ship banked toward the mountain. He flickered the altitude control, bringing the balloon’s temperature up at a controlled rate, slowing their fall in time with the widening gap between the mountain and the falls. He had to level off the ship at the right altitude, low enough to fit through the gap and high enough to avoid the spray from the melted portion of the waterfall. And then he felt the wind backing.

  When wind blew across those mountain peaks, it could do crazy things. Ravines the size of that one could capture portions of the wind and create a wind spiral within their depths. As David drew closer to the mountain, the spiraling wind backed against the mountain and pushed the yacht out, toward the falls. David adjusted some wind fins to try to keep the deck moderately level. Then he placed both hands on the wheel and turned it a few more times, pitting his muscles against the wind. The yacht bucked a few times before complying and angling toward the cliff face. As they drew nearer and nearer, David gritted his teeth. They were right on course. Another couple seconds and they’d spear through the gap. He looked down at his slippery hands and had a terrible thought: both hands were on the wheel. You never kept both hands on the wheel; one always had to be on the altitude control. And what was worse, the frozen falls would chill the air and send them rocketing to their doom if David wasn’t ready to lower the balloon temperature.

  He tried to take one hand off the wheel, but his hands were too slippery and he almost lost control. As the gap grew ever larger, panic set in. He nearly shouted for his father, until he had a thought. He let one hand slip off the wheel and flip the wheel lock so fast that the ship never even shifted. Then he dried his hands and placed one on the altitude control while the other braced against the wheel. They were almost to the gap now. David used his chin to flip the wheel lock off and gasped when the wheel pulled against his arm, but his grip held. As they passed through the gap, David pulled the altitude control, lowering the balloon temperature as they rounded the falls. As soon as they cleared the falls, David superheated the balloon and let go of the wheel, allowing the wind to push the ship back to the center of the valley. In a matter of seconds the superheated balloon carried them out of the ravine and back into the mountain peaks.

  “Well done, lad!” his father said. “Couldn’t have done it better myself. Of course, I would expect nothing less from the youngest cadet in Alönian history. What’s the lesson to be learned here?”

  “Never put both hands on the wheel?” David said, a little embarrassed.

  Father nodded. “True. Using your wheel lock more effectively would have allowed for more control. But what’s the lesson learned for battle?”

  David thought for a moment. “Always keep an eye on the terrain. Just because you are in the air doesn’t mean the ground won’t mess with your navigation.”

  “Right you are. Terrain is king,” his father said with a clap on David’s shoulder. “Backing wind, updrafts, downdrafts, hot drafts, cold drafts—you won’t know they’re coming unless you keep an eye on the terrain.”

  “Was that stunt really necessary?” Mother asked, concern on her face.

  “Absolutely, Marguerite,” his father said. “If I’m to train this boy to fly, I already know he’ll attempt something stupid. I might as well show him how to do stupid the smart way. Besides, this is the most difficult place
to fly in the Fertile Plains. Where better to practice for the next academy cadet skiff race. If the last one is anything to go by, I’ll wager you’ll win it the next three cycles.”

  David’s mother hmphed and looked away across the mountains. “You two are one and the same—same voice, same face, and same recklessness.”

  She looked regal sitting at the front of the yacht, yellow dress flowing in the wind. Many had said and many more believed that she was David’s elder sister and not his mother.

  “Now now, Marguerite,” Father said, a smile on his lips. “That was half as dangerous as the things we did while flying after our wedding.”

  His mother shot Father a dangerous look, cheeks flushed.

  “I hardly see how that’s relevant,” she said, tossing her head.

  “You were conceived while pulling a stunt like that,” David’s father whispered.

  “Oh, Father!” David said. “What makes you think I want to know that? And also, how?”

  His father laughed, and his mother pointedly looked away, round cheeks betraying her smile.

  “Maybe I’ll try the same stunt myself someday,” David said.

  “You will not!” his mother said, turning around so fast her hair whipped around her shoulders.

  “Yes, my boy. Your mother is quite right.” His father held out a finger. “Marriage first.”

  “Oh heavens, David,” Mother said. “I don’t know why I married you.”

  “I’m pretty sure it was because of my skill at piloting,” Father said, struggling to keep a straight face. “Come now, lad, give me the wheel. I’ll dock this tub at the resort and remind your mother why she married me.”

  David slid across the safety line and started making the yacht ready to dock. As they neared the resort, he looked out at the magnificent structure carved into the sides of the cliff, inverted buildings fastened to the bottom of overhangs, great docks and hot springs, intermittent between hundreds of frozen falls. David marveled at the beauty of it all, until he heard the worst possible sound in all the Thirteen Houses. An explosion rocked the deck and sent David sprawling. Aerosol countermeasure hissed as David climbed to his feet and puzzled at their shriveled balloon. It was on fire. How on earth was it on fire?