Weeds of Eden

by Christopher D Schmitz

  Dekker’s Dozen:

  Weeds of Eden

  Dekker’s Dozen:

  Weeds of Eden

  by

  Christopher D Schmitz

  Published by Christopher D Schmitz at Smashwords

  © 2017 by Christopher D. Schmitz

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

  The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

  PUBLISHED BY CHRISTOPHER D SCHMITZ

  please visit:

  http://www.authorchristopherdschmitz.com

  For all six of my raving fans pestering me at conventions to request a new Dekker’s Dozen story… more is on the way! These characters keep me awake at night, demanding I continue telling their tales.

  Note:

  The Dekker’s Dozen series involves occasional elements of time travel that can confuse some of the events. Those familiar with The Last Watchmen will have encountered the minor character Ezekiel who works to preserve the fabric of reality by traveling through time via arcane technology. A Waxing Arbolean Moon adds some further details to the chronology and all prior to the events of The Last Watchmen.

  The Last Watchmen represents the original time-stream as A. Its ending makes it clear that a B stream exists. Some events of The Last Watchmen happen in both. A Waxing Arbolean Moon takes place prior to the split of the time stream but also prior to the existence of chronology B. A Waxing Arbolean Moon and Weeds of Eden both happens in the A& B lines and function as prequels to both the Last Watchmen timeline and the new, ongoing timeline (timeline B). It may sound confusing as I’m trying not to give away spoilers for any of the stories.

  I originally began writing Weeds of Eden as a bit of a writing exercise and wanted to demonstrate some character elements and backstory from The Last Watchmen while I worked with some new story outlining software for a future project. I figured some familiar and well-loved characters would be right at home for me to whip up an 8k-9k short story over a week so I could experiment with the software elements and have a product people were asking for at conventions. Yeah… ten days later I had written more than twice that, completed the short story which became the first in a series of three, and sketched notes for a follow-up novel (tentatively called Austicon’s Lockbox).

  Hopefully the preceding graphic helps keep the timelines organized for the reader. Because Ezekiel is pivotal to The Last Watchmen but not necessarily the future stories, Weeds of Eden is perhaps the most logical place to begin reading this series. (If you want my recommended reading order, at the time of writing this it would be: Weeds of Eden, The Last Watchmen, and then A Waxing Arbolean Moon.)

  I’m super excited to get back into the Dozen’s world! If you guys keep requesting stories, I’ll keep writing them.

  --Christopher D Schmitz

  Dekker's Dozen #000.33 A&B

  Weeds of Eden

  0064 P.I.S.W....

  Despite the hangar bay yawning wide open, someone knocked on the front door. A sign hanging above the steel barricade simply read Licensed Investigators.

  "I'm comin," Rock hollered as he shuffled through the groups Earth-side Headquarters belonging to the Dekker's Dozen. The spacious facility more than met their needs and occupied a sizable chunk of expensive real estate at the edge of Reef City. Of course, it looked like more like a dump than a respectable business... which it wasn't.

  Rock flung the door open and found an unfamiliar Asian man standing in the doorway. He clutched the straps of a duffel bag in one fist and looked up at the massive warrior who dwarfed him.

  "You are licensed Investigators?" He spoke with a slight far Eastern accent.

  Rock nodded curtly at the polite term given to those in the mercenary profession.

  "Is this where I would locate one Vivian 'Vesuvius' Briggs?"

  Raising an eyebrow, Rock asked, "Who are you? Walk-in clients aren't something we typically get in our profession. I'll call for Dekker. He's in charge of all client negotiations."

  "Nevermind," the stranger mumbled. "There she is."

  Beyond the hallway Rock had ushered their guest into, the fire-haired woman walked past the doorway where it spilled into the hangar. She strolled through the bay where the Dozen's ship, the Rickshaw Crusader, remained parked.

  He took a step forward and Rock put one massive paw up to block his entrance. "Hold up a second, friend," he warned. "You're going to hafta wait here until we know a little more about you as a precaution. Sometimes we tend to make enemies..."

  Quick as a flash the smaller man ducked beneath Rock's guard and slipped past him. He dropped the duffel bag but clutched a katana in his hand. He charged forward, howling. "Briggs!"

  Vesuvius whirled to lock eyes with the intruder who rushed at her with a drawn weapon. She leapt backwards and out of the path of his blade. "Everybody stand down," she shouted to the other mercenaries who had already rushed to her defense. "This guy's mine!" She snatched a nearby length of pipe and wielded it like a staff, blocking and parrying the man's keen edge.

  The intruder stutter-stepped and used the motion to add further power to his next blow. His edged weapon sliced cleanly through the pipe, splitting it into two lengths.

  Vesuvius pressed him, doubly wielding her blunt segments and creating a space cushion. She chucked the pieces of pipe at the invader and leapt into a somersault. Rolling to her feet, she snatched her sword which leaned against a nearby box of parts Doc Johnson had shipped them from his moon-side salvage yard.

  Tossing aside the saya that sheathed her own katana, Vesuvius brandished her own blade. One of the world's top-ranked sword-fighters, she grinned at the stranger while motioning him forward. "Now we can dance properly," Vesuvius growled.

  #

  "We're shutting it all down," Jace screamed into his megaphone. He waved towards the heavy machinery and to the radiation-proof cargo haulers. "All of it! The work stops until the corporation comes to the table."

  A chorus of cheers agreed with him.

  Jace Strengen looked out over the growing crowd of sickly looking miners who had gathered at the central part of the domed mining town of Outpost 7 on Io. Jupiter's moon had been terra-formed well enough to split the oxygen and other elements into a relatively breathable concoction that passed for an atmosphere. However, the community still relied on the dome to protect them from radiation storms and to gather and properly distribute the geothermal heat sloughed off by the planet's volcanic activity. Its gravity wells also provided them with enough sense of grounding to keep them comfortable--inside the city limits at least.

  Most of the operations within the city had ground to a complete stop under Jace's direction. Stoppages had begun in the other outpost cities under his direction, as well. Jace led the union for Io's workers.

  "The reports have come back verified as true," he broadcast to the sea of workers. "Halabella will continue to get richer and our men and women who work the mines will continue to get sicker... the transport tubes leading to the workstations--the very place where the protective gear is located at--those tubes are not properly shielded against all of that radioactive substrate that local ops President Jai so desperately wants us to harvest."

  A cloud of boos and hissing rose up from the mob at his name. Jai Janus was a private businessman and owned controlling shares of the Jupiter subsidiary of Halabella. Locally, the corporation harvested and refined material for the radioactive cores that powered the Thumper Drive systems: transit technology for Faster Than Light travel initiated by nuclear d
etonation. The products dug out of Jupiter's moon and refined on its surface were far cheaper than the Earth-side fuel alternatives... but they hadn't come without a hidden price tag. The local populace had been ravaged by recent bouts of radiation poisoning.

  "Until Jai sits down to negotiate with us, not one worker sets foot back in those mines. The rail tubes are leeching poison!"

  The worker's assents nearly shook the buildings around them.

  Jace grinned at the frenzied mob as they stomped the ground and shouted angry protest slogans. He knew that every place on Io remained mostly safe but, the tubes where the monorails traveled were a completely different story.

  The Geiger readings were not strong; the leeching materials were not refined and only posed a threat to those with regular exposure. Jace was a skilled negotiator and he knew he could get the people what they needed to remain safe... and for him to earn his sizable paycheck from the union's head office.

  Jai's brother was Chief Magnate of the Mother Earth Aggregate and an election was coming soon. If Miko Janus wanted to remain head of the MEA, Jai would cave--if he didn't, the union would throw all of its support behind his opposition... and there were lots of voters in the union.

  #

  Vesuvius ducked around the landing pads that supported the bulk of the Rickshaw Crusader and defensively used the ship's mass in order to out-maneuver her assailant. Most of her comrades stood nearby, watching the duel while nervously gripping their weapons in case the intruder had any other mischief in mind.

  He swung and chopped like a whirlwind. Vesuvius ducked underneath the sharpened edge, nearly losing some hair in the process.

  She stepped back, losing ground step after step. Behind her, Dekker Knight ambled across the second-level catwalk from the business office that overlooked the hangar bay and descended the stairs. Nibbs looked over at him and adjusted his glasses.

  "I've never seen anybody push her back like this before," Nibbs stiffened. "Except you, of course."

  Dekker nodded measuredly.

  "Do you think he can beat her? What if he does?" Nibbs asked with a hint of worry in his voice. The attacker punctuated the threat with a deadly slash that Vesuvius rolled under backwards.

  "Is that Shin?" Guy called out from the catwalk overhead. "It is!" he howled, dropping down to their level.

  Shin and Vesuvius didn't stop their duel--or even look sidelong at Guy and Dekker.

  Nibbs looked at Guy with expectation.

  "Shin Muramasa is Viv's cousin," Dekker explained. "He trained with Vesuvius and I when we were younger."

  Guy elbowed Dekker, his long-time friend, in the ribs. "Well, they were younger."

  The rest of the gathered Dozen holstered their weapons.

  "Wow," Rock whistled as Vesuvius reeled. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone actually beat her."

  Shin slashed. She ducked and parried. Her cousin blocked and thrust forward with his body, knocking her flat. "And you're not gonna see it today, either," she snapped at Rock. She didn’t take her eyes from Shin who pointed the tip of his blade to her neck, signaling she ought to surrender.

  Vesuvius nodded to him with mischief in her eyes. He traced her blade down his body and found its tip less than a millimeter from his crotch.

  Shin reeled, staggering with surprise. She hooked his foot with the tip of her toe as he stumbled backwards and Vesuvius laid him out on his back.

  Leaping to her feet Vesuvius kicked his blade away and pointed her katana at her cousin. Shin began laughing and Vesuvius reached down and hauled him to his feet. Arm in arm they walked back towards the group, faces and necks flush and sweaty.

  "You've got a strange family," Nibbs remarked.

  #

  Prognon Austicon leaned back on his stool. The air smelled musty in the subterranean research facility far beneath the surface, like soil and old books.

  Shelves lined the walls and rows of tables displayed artifacts and aquariums filled with plant life beneath grow lamps. No outside light sources pierced the veil of darkness as the ancient archaeologist stepped from microscope to microscope, noting his findings.

  He grinned as he jotted notes in his journal. A loud knock boomed at the thick, metal door.

  Austicon looked from face to face in the low light. All eyes turned to him. He was the galaxy's most wanted and stayed well protected. His team of sentries positioned throughout the tunnels snaking beneath the Mars Museum would have radioed ahead if they had cleared any guest for entry.

  The man stiffened and his silver locks fell around his shoulders. What passed for a smile twisted upon his face. It had been a while since he'd spared the time to engage in physical violence. A smirk tugged at the edges of his lips--he did miss the way that made him feel alive.

  Someone on the other side of the heavy door pushed it open. An elderly woman in a faded yellow cloak walked into the room; the edges of her cloak bore the distinct red taint of Martian soil where it had dragged upon the ground. A trio of bloody bodies lay crumpled against the wall in the hallway beyond her.

  The burgeoning grin on Austicon's face faded away. She glowered at him. "I can hardly believe that you made an agent of Dodona travel all the way out here in order to make contact."

  "I made you do nothing," Austicon growled.

  "You killed everyone else we sent," she chided like an old schoolteacher.

  "Maybe I did not want to talk."

  Eyes watched them from the dark. Prognon Austicon's faithful adherents shrank back as they noted the exchange. His wrath was famous and none wanted to be caught in the crossfire.

  "You do not need to talk," she said evenly, but sternly, "but you will listen. The Red Tree has need of you."

  #

  Dekker held the door open for his friends. Shin and Vesuvius stepped through and into the dingy pub and followed him to the back where they took a seat.

  "You sure know how to pick em," Shin joked, running a finger along the edge of the room divider. He wiped the grime on his pants leg as Dekker waived to a waitress.

  "Only the best for those closest to me," he smirked.

  "You Investigators really live the high life, don't you? Fancy wine and dining, special weapons privileges, hobnobbing with the rich and famous."

  Vesuvius shrugged. "So much glitz and glamour," she laughed. "And not all of our weapons are legal."

  "Or even reported to the MEA," Dekker winked.

  Shin turned over the menu in his hand. He blinked at the trilingual entries and tried to make sense of it. "Anything you recommend?"

  "Anything but the fish," Dekker muttered.

  Vesuvius scanned the listings. Everything was fish. A smile tugged at the edge of her lips and she playfully curled a lock of red hair around her forefinger.

  Shin probed again, "So business is good? It's been a couple years since you guys incorporated and neither of you has been back to visit since... I know Master Muramasa misses you both, though I'm sure your company keeps you busy."

  "It's hard to stay on top of it--being the best in the business," Vesuvius grinned wryly.

  "The best in the business, huh? What makes you the best, little sister?" the Asian man bumped his shoulder playfully against hers. For all practical purposes it had been true--she'd gone to live with Shin and his family during her teenage years after the tragic, politically motivated murder. "Maybe there's still some friends of General Harry Briggs floating around the MEA cabinet?"

  She only offered a thin-lipped courtesy smile in return.

  "Not likely," Dekker said. "We're not in the black nearly far enough for my comfort. It tends to be like that when we turn down jobs we think are less than savory."

  A mousy waitress slipped past the table, sliding a plate full of glasses into the center and a trio of tiny glasses filled with saké. She left the bottle with them.

  Shin bobbed his head. "So it's not money that makes you successful, then, old friend... what is it?"

  Dekker rummaged through his dark hair with a free
hand as if looking for an answer. "I dunno--relationships. Friends... keeping a crew that's like family, a ship topped off with fuel, and the fact that none of my men have died despite all the danger we've been through."

  Shin grinned and looked sidelong at Vesuvius, about to enlist her help in ribbing their friend for not saying "men or women." Something in the way she watched Dekker changed his mind. Her eyes twinkled as she watched him talk.

  "That's a pretty good answer," Shin said instead, raising his shot glass in salute. "Here's the next question." He held up three digits. "How many fingers am I holding up? I just want to make sure you can count".

  Vesuvius nearly choked on her drink. She knew what he meant; they'd had this conversation long ago, privately.

  "Were you drinking this saké when you chose the name? Because you realize there are thirteen people on your crew, right?"

  Dekker shrugged while Vesuvius rolled her eyes. "Paragon of self-control, this one," she winked. "I don't know that I've ever actually seen him drunk."

  "High constitution," he simply explained. "And I can count just fine."

  "But like, only to five," Shin teased.

  "Trigger just asked him about this yesterday, in fact," Vesuvius chuckled. "He's kind of superstitious and freaked out a little at the number thirteen."

  Shin lifted another glass, "Well if this doesn't keep panning out, you can open a laser-cooked pastry shop and call it Dekker's Baker's Dozen."

  Dekker grinned and poured himself another saké.

  "Whoa," Vesuvius cautioned. "Slow down, chief. You've already had like, a dozen of those."

  Dekker smiled and shook his head with a chuckle. "I think I'm remembering why we don't all hang out more often."

  #

  "Then let her come and talk to me if the Red Tree finds me in such high demand," Austicon spat.

  The old woman looked down her nose at him, barely acknowledging his tantrum. "You are bound to the circle, eldest, and you will play your role." She handed Austicon a packet willed with photos and information. "There is a target we have identified for disposal."