Global Union: A New Life

by K. L. Lewis

  “DeMarcus,” his mother called. “It’s time for a bath.”

  DeMarcus looked over his shoulder into the bathroom then looked up at his father staring back at him. “Better get going,” Malcolm said.

  DeMarcus did as he was told and ran to the bathroom. The tub was filled warm water, and his mother stood over waiting for him to come. “Can’t I take a bath by myself?” DeMarcus complained.

  “I’ll think about it,” his mother said. “Now get in.”

  He grumbled, but didn’t argue, stripping down and getting into the water, letting his mother wash him. “We’re gonna move tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll be heading to the Houston Megapolis. I’m gonna be doing a lot of Rec-work there while your father’s away.”

  “To Mars,” DeMarcus said with a grumble.

  “I know, it’s sad,” Sekhmet said. “This is going to be our last day together. Might as well make the best of it.”

  The best of it, she says. Wasn’t much to make out of it. The next day, the family arrived at the Rocky Mountain Spaceport—a network of ramps lining up to the mountain tops that shot shuttles above the clouds. DeMarcus rode on his father’s shoulders as they went through the crowds, with Sekhmet smiling at them appreciating their last moments for years to come. Reaching the gate for the Iuvia’s Eden Region, Malcolm gave DeMarcus to Sekhmet, and exchanged a heartfelt hug and goodbye. “I’ll miss you two.”

  “You take care up there,” said Sekhmet.

  “And you stay safe down here.”

  Sekhmet chuckled. “You really think anyone’s dumb enough to cross me?”

  “The shuttle for Eden Region, Iuvia, will depart in five minutes,” said the PA.

  “Well, I’d better get going,” said Malcolm. He kissed DeMarcus’s head, and then Sekhmet lips before entering the gate.

  “Bye, Dad,” said DeMarcus.

  “Bye, DeMarcus,” Malcolm waved before the gate closed.

  And from that day on, it was just Sekhmet and DeMarcus. They watched Malcolm’s shuttle slide along the rails and launch off the ramp, trailing a column of pale smoke into the heavens. “When will he come back?” DeMarcus asked.

  Not for a long time. But Sekhmet smiled and assured him. “Someday, son. Someday. Let’s go home.” Here’s to a new life…

  CHAPTER 2 – OF FAME AND FORTUNE

  “Good morning, DeMarcus! It’s Monday, 7:00 am! Time to wake up!”

  Groaning at the light smacking his face through the window, DeMarcus pulled his blanket over his head. Peeking through the sheets, he glared at his alarm smiling on the pane where the city of Houston shined under the sun. Why bother waking up? He wasn’t going to school—his mom had settled on homeschooling him since they moved here.

  Pressing on his OmniMorph on his wrist, he shut off the alarm and shifted the windows back to their dark, serene shade. Nice and quiet. Then the sniff of eggs and bacon sparked him up. Breakfast!

  He flew out of bed and rushed into the brown-tiled kitchen where the caretaker android laid down plates of the eggs, bacon, and waffles on the table. His mother Sekhmet left her room, hair tied in a bun, and her scars hidden under a long-sleeved burgundy shirt over a pair of tan slacks. Tapping on her OmniMorph and mumbling over things like supplies and people, it looked like she had another long day at work—like she needed more of that to do.

  “Leaving already?” DeMarcus asked her.

  Sekhmet sighed. “I really don’t want to, honestly.”

  DeMarcus chuckled. “Don’t worry. I can look after myself.”

  Sekhmet smirked and ruffled his hair. “Not yet. You’re still a little boy.”

  Oh, please. He was fourteen now, not a baby. “I’m old enough! Besides, I won’t be anywhere else.”

  Sekhmet kept her smile as she wrapped her OmniMorph around her wrist. “Well then, tell you what: I’m free tomorrow. We can explore the city more before we leave. How’s that sound?”

  “Promise?” DeMarcus asked. She hardly broke a promise.

  “I promise,” she confirmed on her way out the door. “Until then, stay safe.”

  She’s one to talk. DeMarcus lost count of the times she went out with the military, fighting militants and coming home all bruised up. She’d sleep some of her injuries away, but what if that weren’t enough? What if she never came back alive?

  He shook the thought out of his head. She was doing safer work this time, nothing to worry about.

  With the house to himself, DeMarcus went in the living room and linked up with a few quick friends he met around the city preparing a lobby for an AR game. He detached a long AR lens from his OmniMorph and placed it over his eyes, watching a projection of a city rise onto the table’s surface. Several multicolored avatars appeared on one end, with him taking control of the red one. He raced his friends through the city, jumping across the buildings and roads and taunting each other toward the finish. Then everyone logged off, leaving DeMarcus by himself. If only he could go to visit them now, but the frequent attacks in the city had everyone keeping themselves close to their sector.

  Boredom reared its ugly head, and DeMarcus sprawled on the couch as he shifted through the Terranet channels. There was always something on the news, sometimes about his mother, who was too busy to answer his messages. He turned to a newscast with a blonde human and a brunette parahuman woman.

  “Good morning, everyone! Today is June 1st, 891. I’m your host, Paul Matthews…”

  “And I’m Christina Mellows…”

  “And this is NATV news, your source for national NAF news! Last night saw the surge in protests in the Atlantic Coast Region after thirteen officers were sent on administrative leave for assaulting two parahuman civilians, one of them dying from severe head trauma. While investigations go underway, many fear the officers won’t be charged despite an un-doctored video of the assault that went viral over the Terranet.”

  A video appeared with three officers, all human, stopping a two parahumans and a human walking on the street. The officers grabbed and manhandled the parahumans, wrestling them on the ground while the human tried to save his friends. Then more cops arrived. DeMarcus face furrowed, and his jaw clenched at the police dogpiling the parahumans, wailing at them with batons before loading them into their cruisers, all while their human friend was powerless to do anything.

  After that came footage of a crowd of protesting in the streets over the incident, humans and parahumans mixed together, with some holding signs saying the officers were in league with the Human Defense Front.

  “Damn Fronties,” DeMarcus grumbled. And as bad as they were, they weren’t the only ones out there.

  “With the officers involved rumored to be members of the Human Defense Front,” Christina continued, “many have attributed this leniency to a string of corruption with—”

  She paused and pressed on her earpiece, giving Paul a glance. Wonder what she heard? DeMarcus sat up and leaned in as Christina continued. “We apologize for the sudden shift, but there’s been an sombering update. As of now, all thirteen officers on leave have been announced dead.”

  DeMarcus’s eyes widened. Dead already?

  “Investigators have found several cars with windows shattered by sniper fire, as well as a few others scorched by miniature bombs hidden underneath,” Christina continued. “Suspects have yet to be identified—many are claiming this fits the usual M.O. of the Amalgam Concord. However, one suspect, Police Lieutenant Kev Volters, has been identified as responsible for leaking the officers’ whereabouts, and has been taken into custody as we speak.”

  The newscast switched to another footage, this one live with two human officers escorting the suspect though a crowd of cameras and microphones. The suspect was a man cuffed behind his back as the officers held him by the arms, and the the livefeed circled around to the front as the officers carried the man to a large complex. DeMarcus expected the suspect to be a parahuman, but to his surprise Kev Volters was a human himself!

  Volters’s face reddened as he bl
asted at the crowd. “They were Fronties! The chief knew they were with the HDF! I did this world a favor! I’ll soldier on until I fall, and where I march, I fight for all!”

  “Fight for all.” The oath of the Amalgam Concord militants, the largest and most feared group of humans and parahumans worldwide, banding together to hunt down the HDF. It was a group that DeMarcus was torn whether to cheer on or condemn—it didn’t matter if anyone was a parahuman or human, any big shot who attacked or deprived people’s rights for being a parahuman or human (sounds stupid, but it happens) were hunted down by the Amalgam until they were dead. They had been a major force since the Crow Storm Uprising years before DeMarcus was born, and since there were still parts of the NAF and other countries that took issue with having parahumans, the Amalgam Concord made headlines.

  They would seem like heroes given the praise they recieved from those less forgiving of the HDF, but DeMarcus didn’t think that was a good thing. He hated the Fronties’ guts as any other parahuman, but there were some people caught in the crossfire of one of the Amalgam’s bombings despite their avoidance of civilian casualties. All this violence did was increase security everywhere. He was reminded of that every time the room shook from the dropships flying by the balcony.

  Leaning over the guardrail lined with solar trees, DeMarcus squinted at the ships descending a few blocks down to a runway, part of Terraport Xiomara, the one he was living on. NAF soldiers scrambled off the ships alongside troops from the Imperial Union of Iuvia. Sometimes his mother was there commanding them, but it was hard to see over the base’s walls and hangars.

  Then again, she could be anywhere. Houston was massive—oceans of grass among blue solar trees, shimmering towers glowing around its five large sectors, water ways connecting three of the NAF sectors to the two Iuvian Terraports, Xiomara and Valor. The streets and airways in each were heavy with autotrams and aerocars flying about, and there was no telling how far she went from here.

  She could have gone to the sectors closest to the Gulf, where the blackened land and skeletons of city ruins crumbled by the waters, the usual mark of the Solar War of decades past. His mother always hated looking at them. She hated going to them, too. They were often where militants clashed, and black smoke still rose over some of the decayed buildings. Another hit close to home, several blocks past the nearby Pentamid Park where pale fumes from an attack by the Fronties. These were often why DeMarcus stayed inside rather than risk getting caught in something like that. A scrawny teen like him would just get chewed up and spat out with no remorse, no matter how much he’d want to help fight militants like the HDF.

  When night fell, his mother returned with her arms drooping to the floor as she dragged herself inside. Untying her hair-bun and changing into her pajamas, she threw herself in bed, arms sprawled on the sheets.

  “You okay?” DeMarcus asked. He was relieved she had no cuts and bruises on her this time.

  “Had a long day with the logistics of a new farm tower,” Sekhmet mumbled. “Can’t wait for all this to end. I wish Malcolm were here.”

  Yeah, if only he was. It had been ten long years since his father went to the Iuvian colonies around Mars, and his mother groaned every month over his absence. But it wouldn’t be long until they both went to see him.

  Until then, DeMarcus left his mother alone and waited for the morning sun where he snuck back in and crawled toward her bed. His heart stopped at her alarm greeting her with a loud buzz, and he hid at the foot of her bed until she shut it up. He peeked up at her raising her weary head, making a weak smile at the picture of her and Malcolm holding DeMarcus as a baby. When she laid back down, DeMarcus made a soft giggle and reared back on his feet.

  He heard his mother mumble his name. “DeMarcus?”

  Then he pounced on the bed and jumped on the wide mattress. “Wake up, mom! Come on! Let’s go!”

  “DeMarcus! What in the—”

  “Come on! Wake up!” DeMarcus repeated. His mother grabbed him and threw him on the bed, and he squirmed and laughed as her fingers wriggled on his sides. “Stop! Stop! That tickles!”

  Sekhmet grinned. “What have I told you about waking me up?”

  “Sorry! Sorry! I won’t do it again!”

  “Really? You said that last time!” Sekhmet tickled him harder, his laughter grew louder until she lifted him up and embraced him. “Morning, DeMarcus. You’re up a lot earlier than normal.”

  “Morning, mom.”

  Sekhmet leaned on her pillow. “Now can I go back to sleep?”

  DeMarcus frowned. “You promised we’d explore the city today! We’ve only got a few days before we leave.”

  She took another glance at the clock, then scoffed and covered up DeMarcus pouting face. “Oh please. Don’t even give me that look.”

  “Aw, come on!” DeMarcus protested.

  “Alright, fine,” she sighed, before laying back down. “But first, five more minutes.”

  DeMarcus shook her. “Mom!”

  “Fine, I’ll get dressed.”

  DeMarcus put on a blue and red shirt over a pair of black pants, then waited in the living room as his mother came out in a white shirt and pants, complete with a long maroon shawl around her head and shoulders. “So where are we going?” he asked.

  “The Galleria,” she answered, holding up her OmniMorph on her wrist. “Wanted to get a few add-ons from the tech store.”

  “Can we go to Pentamid Park, too?” DeMarcus asked.

  “Sure,” Sekhmet said. “But remember, avoid attention.”

  Yes, of course. Wouldn’t want people crowding around an Iuvian war hero, as she always told him. He saw it once when they first moved here, people gathering around for autographs, pictures, and vids with her in it. And she always kept him out of sight to prevent anyone from knowing they’re mother and son. She said it was to give him a sense of normalcy, letting him enjoy his youth in a way she called “authentic,” without people befriending him because of his famous mother. “You don’t want fake friends,” she’d often tell him, and so DeMarcus felt it best to keep quiet. Plus, he saw how all that annoying publicity can ruin lives—if he did something embarrassing, the news would never shut up about what the son of a war hero did.

  Leaving the apartment complex for a stroll on the high walks, DeMarcus basked in the warm rays of the sunlight drumming on his skin, flicking his fingers through the holograms on the signs and buildings. His hair blew from the gusts of wind from the small drones whisking overhead, one of them being a Gentili that casually followed them as they went—mom’s secret bodyguard, watching out for danger like a guardian angel.

  Crossing the street, they greeted a human father with his parahuman daughter, a cute red head around DeMarcus’s age who looked back and smiled at him. Seeing her made him wish they stayed here longer, but they were nearing their last days here. “So, what city are we staying in next?” DeMarcus asked.

  “Grand Detroit in the Great Lakes Region,” Sekhmet answered. “It’s our last stop, and after that we can go up to space to see your father.”

  “Will he have time for us?”

  “He will. He keeps working himself so hard, when all he has to do is observe and keep the politicians in check. Such an overachiever.”

  Reaching the Galleria, a blue building standing like a giant fish fin, Sekhmet groaned at the rally of humans chanting in the parking lot. The humans were all in green, white, and blue-colored clothes, a few wearing bulletproof vests, and each held H-shaped sigils in holographic signs or plastered somewhere on their outfits. A man stood before them in blue robes, preaching a sermon over purifying the Earth and humanity of the sin from before the Great Wipe, parahumans—or “shear-mouths” as he called them. The Human Defense Front, or major supporters of them no less.

  Police stood between them and the diverse crowd of humans and parahumans shouting back at them, but DeMarcus didn’t bother sticking around to see what would happen next. Not that he could anyway with his mother tugging him into th
e Galleria. “Those relics need to die already,” she grumbled. “I swear those Fronties haven’t learned a damn thing.”

  Yeah, talk about ungrateful. Though DeMarcus thought that was too generous given how his mother helped end the Solar War. He was told many of these Fronties scrubbed this cultish mindset and helped in the Reconstruction—or Rec-work as many called it. Why these people kept on, who knew? But their numbers always shrunk the more they were noticed.

  Navigating the crowds in the Galleria, past the stores, kiosks, and other attractions illuminating the walkways and fountains, DeMarcus locked eyes on the Magna-Rink next to the arcade. He wanted to join the people there hovering around the polished black hills, but his mother tugged him along. “Another time, DeMarcus,” she said.

  His ears caught the news broadcasting from the screens about the casualties from recent militant crossfires, along with Global Union peacekeepers and aid workers helping countries still devastated by the Solar War. Then there were countries Serali and Monuma stirring trouble in other nations like Themiskyra and the Sinic Republics. The world as usual—whether in or outside the NAF, there was always some trouble.

  At the tech store, where a large ring above shifted through images of its products, DeMarcus detached from his mother and joined the children gathered by the games. He greeted a human boy by the edge of the group and asked what was going on. “Some new AR game that just came out from Omega Entertainment,” the boy answered. “I haven’t gotten a chance to play yet.”

  A few adult humans outside the crowd shot dirty looks at the parahuman children playing with human ones. “What’s their problem?” DeMarcus asked.

  “They’re just Frontie-loving losers from outside,” the human boy sneered. “Ignore them. They know better than to try anything funny.”

  “Teo!” the boy’s mother called.

  The boy and his mother left the store, leaving DeMarcus wandering around in wait. When Sekhmet finished and they made their way out, she glanced at the children at the games. “Didn’t get to play?” she asked.