"He gives good speech, doesn't he?" Jon asked. It was Carbine's turn not to hear his friend's words. Jon smiled, knowing his friend's appetite reigned supreme. Carbine was feverishly scanning the picture menu N-Tab in his hands like a nervous scout searching the terrain for a potential ambush. A moment later, the strawberry-blonde returned and introduced herself.
"Hi! My name is Candice, and I'll be your server today. Have you had a chance to look over our menu yet?"
"Yes!" Carbine blurted out. "I'll take this one, please!" He pointed at a picture of delicious-looking fried meat on a bed of rice, smothered in a rich gravy. "And a big beer," Carbine added as the waitress peered at the picture and then touched the screen of her own N-Tab.
"Okay, let me just get your scan," she said politely and lowered the tablet to Carbine's reach. Carbine extended his arm, palm up. The girl lowered the tablet further, and a three-inch-wide yellow laser beam appeared on Carbine's arm, scanning the tattoo of black bars of varying width that decorated the inside of Carbine's wrist. With the scan complete, the tablet made a harsh buzzing sound, and the laser turned red. Carbine glanced up at the waitress, his dark, bushy eyebrows spelling out concern like one of the digital picture-boards in the halls of the Zigg. An automated voice spoke from the tablet in warm, friendly tones.
"I'm sorry, Rene 761-354, but it appears that this selection would push you over your daily allowable caloric intake. May I suggest you try a salad or go on a two-mile run and come back?" Carbine listened to the tablet and his shoulders slumped. A smile formed on Jon's lips as he watched the scene unfold.
"Damn." Carbine's face twisted. "I really wanted that, too. I guess it's a good thing that the system keeps such good track of stuff for me, cause I would have screwed up and overeaten!"
Jon smiled and nodded his agreement.
"Well, miss, I guess I will take the chicken salad, and a water." Carbine pointed at a different picture and underwent the tattoo-scanning ritual again. This time, the yellow laser turned to green, and the tablet chimed happily.
"Oh wow," the waitress exclaimed, "I shouldn't be so rude, but I can see from your ID scan that you are a New Breed?"
"That's right, miss." Carbine looked up, reveling in the attention.
"I'm sorry, but I have to ask. What is it like not having parents?"
Carbine shrugged and made a goofy face. "I wouldn't really know. Good, I guess? I have no complaints. I have everything I need."
"Wow. That's cool. Thank you for your service." She smiled warmly at him, and he nodded back. Then, with a half-curtsy, she turned to face Jon.
"And what about you, big guy?" she asked. Jon realized that he hadn't even looked at the menu until now, so decided to keep things simple.
"Um, I'll take the same th—"
"Well, well, well! If it isn't the Meals-on-Wheels!" a voice interrupted, coming from the entrance to the café.
Jon twisted to see who it was.
"Don't look at your assignment as a bad thing..." It was Hegna 451-223 and his buddy, Chad 444-760; fellow New Breed soldiers who had also just graduated. "Not everyone has what it takes to be a Hopper. Someone has to be Beastie-bait, and I don't think I could find two more qualified gents in all of Home.” Hegna sneered as he and his toady strolled over to the table where Jon and Carbine sat. “Hell, the way I see it,” he continued, “you two are lucky to be where you are. Must have been a glitch in the system. Seems the State should have seen your Academy scores and assigned you to work with Candy here."
The offended waitress opened her mouth to speak but remained mute.
"You know, Hegna, you are absolutely right. We don't have what it takes. I guess Jon and I just weren't born to be losers like you." Carbine beamed a shit-eating grin.
Hegna lunged forward and grabbed Carbine by the lapels of his dress uniform. Carbine reacted just as quick, smoothly lifting a knife from the table and resting it against the side of Hegna's neck. Chad looked like he was going to rush in, but his eyes caught Jon's. The resulting stalemate seemed to freeze time itself. A cry from the waitress broke the tense moment.
"Hey, you guys!" Candice shouted. "Knock it off!"
"What the hell is going on in here?" a new voice called out. John cautiously took his eyes off of Chad and saw the bistro's cook was walking—no, limping—into the dining room from behind the half wall that hid his station.
Even with the limp, brought about by an ill-fitted early model prosthetic that replaced the lower half of his left leg, the man was impressive. His frame was to Jon's what a Mech was to a Hopper. Standing at six-and-a-half feet, the dark-skinned man was half as wide as he was tall, and packed muscles like an infantry grunt packed a ruck. The man's square face bore several scars along with a deep frown that, when contrasted with his cook's apron, gave him an incongruous appearance, despite which his arrival on the set of the present drama demanded everyone's attention.
"You think jus' cause you New Breeds, you can come in here and start this kind of shit?" the cook boomed.
"It's nothing, old man," Hegna began as he relaxed his grip on Carbine, forced a smile, stepped back and brushed the wrinkles out of Carbine's coat. "Just testing to your reflexes, Carby."
"Old man? Old man?" The cook scowled, his frown growing deeper. "This here old man served in the battle of Texhoma. And jus' cause I lost my leg there don't mean I ain't capable of whoopin' yo sorry asses." Jon watched as the man made deliberate eye contact with all four of them. Hegna may have started it, but Carbine had introduced the knife into the equation.
"Fine line between confidence and stupidity, old man," Hegna said coolly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Starting to see how you ended up with that peg. Best be careful, or you might end up with more replacement parts."
The cook's frown transformed into a sadistic smile and then to everyone's shock the man began to take off first the apron, then his shirt. "There ain't much left to pick from," he said, pulling his shirt all the way off and revealing a chest and arms of dark, flat metal, textured with cords of braided steel and reinforced hydraulic lines; the 'muscles' Jon had spied earlier. Riveted to his barrel of a chest was a small square of metal, tin or aluminum, sandwiched by a transparent sheet of acrylic glass atop that. Stylized words decorated it, making it into a sort of plaque. An ancient plaque, as the square of metal possessed the tell-tale look of a relic from Earth-That-Was. It said:
M.G.D
Miller Genuine Draft
"But if you think you can claim a chunk of real estate, go right ahead, son."
Hegna's eyes widened in more than just surprise and his posture softened. "Yeah, well, lucky for everyone I have something I need to go do," he muttered.
"Chad, you lucky girl," Carbine said with a wink.
"Yeah, yeah, asshole. You're the lucky one. Lucky you aren't good enough to be in my squad. Pulling a knife on a superior officer would get you thrown in the brig, or worse." Hegna looked around the table to Jon and the cook, then to Chad, nodding. "Come on Chad, let's bounce."
The two Hopper pilots gathered themselves and, stepping around the cook, made for the exit. Before they got halfway there, Hegna turned back and called out, "You boys had better watch out for friendly fire from above. Cluster bombs aren't very precise."
"Get bent," Carbine shouted back, drawing the gaze of both Jon and the cook. Hegna and Chad turned and left.
“You boys going to behave?” the cook asked as he scrutinized them.
"Yes, sir!" Jon and Carbine announced simultaneously.
"Good. Enjoy your meal."
The cook limped back to his kitchen, signaling for Candice to return to her duty as he passed her.
Seizing the moment of privacy, Jon exploded on his friend. "A knife? What the hell were you thinking?"
"Heh! Go big or go home. Those guys are jerks." Carbine shot Jon a set of mock crazy eyes. Jon's gaze was stone.
"Okay, okay. I probably went a little too far,” Carbine whined, “but they never stop. I was just trying to give them
a little something to think about, ya know? Teach them a lesson!"
"And you don't think that your little lesson would cause them to escalate it to the next level?"
"Man, you are such a drag. So damn... I dunno... prudent! I'd rather it go to 'the next level' than do nothing."
Jon closed his eyes for a second and then reopened them. "Forget it. Let's just eat and then get back to the dorm, Okay?"
"Sure, sure. We gotta get ready for the big show tomorrow!" Carbine's mood improved instantly.
"Oh yeah... that," Jon said.
"Oh come on, man," Carbine said. "It's going to rock! Lily freaking Sapphire, bro!"
"Look, I told you. I don't care about some singer. I'm glad you're happy, though."
Jon stared back up at the holo-vid. It was still playing highlights from Chairman Warbak's commencement speech.
"We have tolerated these voices and these Invasive enemy presences for too long. Today we embrace the new order! Today we begin to purge this cancer from our world and cleanse our nation. Today we will drown out the voices of chaos and discord with our rallying cry! We will silence the voices of treason! We will destroy all those who stand in our way and wish to destroy our world. We will return Earth to paradise from this hellish state! For tonight, we mark not only the advent of the New Breed, but the commencement of the Purge. We will begin to systematically clean up our nation and crack down on esoterrorist and Unpure threats here at Home. We have focused our military so strongly over the past ten years at the alien threat in the south that we have mistakenly allowed a seed of evil to take root here in our own backyard. The Purge will pull this toxic weed out by the root! You will be the key in this roll-out! You are the heroes of the Republic!"
The Purge... Jon's head spun with visions of conquest and glory.
"Thank you all. Stay safe, stay strong, and good night." Warbak finished his speech and stood off to the side of the podium, saluting, as the graduating men and women of the Republic clapped to their hearts’ content.
Reliving that moment of pure pride and joy helped make Jon forget about his disappointing assignment, the upcoming concert he didn't want to attend, and the encounter with his rival. His smile spread from ear to ear. He had never been so proud in all his life. He just knew, in his heart of hearts, that he was going to make a difference in this world. Some voice inside told him that he, more than anyone else in his class, was going to make the world a better place.
"My Lady, are you sure there is no other way?"
"Si, el ardor de mi Pantera combates.” Yes, my fierce fighting Jaguar.
Sitting zazen across from each other were two Latin women, a flickering candle between them. Their faces glowed in the soft light, and ghost-like shadows danced across them while the edges of the nearly empty room around them were bathed entirely in darkness.
As she answered, the woman, more of a girl really, reached out and waved her small hand over the flame of the candle. The flame twitched and bent spasmodically.
The shifting shadows on the bare walls only added to the ambiance of secrecy, vividly reminding each woman of their plotting.
The young woman pulled her hand back and gazed at it, turning her palm over and back again. She was demure and child-like, yet had an air of regal authority about her that sprang from her demeanor, not her dress. Paradoxically, she wore a simple, traditional peasant gown, embroidered with hand-stitched flowers in bright colors. Medium-length dark hair framed her moon-face, the bangs cut perfectly to accentuate the smooth curves of her cheekbones, strong in Mayan features. Her skin, too, was dark—a morenita. She bore the timeless look of her ancestors and carried their legacy with grace in every action and word.
"I'm finding it very difficult to accept your orders, my Lady. It's quite risky." The other woman spoke politely but through the gritted teeth of a painted skull. This woman was taller and considerably more athletic than the first. Dressed in a black, body-hugging one-piece suit made of synthetic fabric, a pair of exotic melee weapons adorned each hip, laying out behind her like twin tails as she rested stoically on her bent knees. Her long raven hair was tied in a ponytail whose tip touched her tailbone. Her face was a beautiful horror, decorated as it was like an embellished skull. Lace and floral patterns edged the narrow eyes of a prowling huntress. Painted bone adorned her forehead, cheeks, and chin. Fanciful shading accentuated her sharp nose, tight yet full lips and muscular yet smooth neck. Strange intersecting lines connected the light and dark regions of her face, also appearing on the backs of her hands. Everything about how she held herself spoke whispers of deadly beauty and swift decisiveness. Lovely death. A beautiful nightmare.
"You must trust me, as I trust him." The small girl spoke softly, as the corners of her mouth formed the hint of a smile. She smiled like a saint would, with a sincere appreciation for all of life. She stared into the flickering candle. Animated shadows danced across her face.
The black-clad warrior inhaled sharply through her nostrils. "Trust him? You don't even know him!"
The young one didn't lose her soft smile or her temper in return. She merely closed her eyes, and then very slowly re-opened them. She gently raised her gaze from the candle on the floor between them to the warrior sworn to protect her.
"Feroz Pantera... I love you."
The warrior exhaled a long, deep sigh and relaxed, defeated.
"I trust you, Lady, and will follow your orders."
"I know. Come now, let us prepare."
She leaned forward, pursed her lips, and with a soft push of air, plunged the room into darkness.
002
THE AIR SMELLED like street tacos, cheap cologne, beer and human sweat. The sheer variety of sights and sounds was overwhelming. Together they formed a force so strong, one was powerless to resist it. The mob reminded Jon of a strong undercurrent pulling him out to sea; he would only exhaust himself trying to fight it, so he gave up and just floated along, letting himself be carried into the swirling sea of crazed fans, knowing that eventually he would come to shore upon his designated seat.
Despite having given up trying to fight his way through the crowd, Jon was still struggling—not against the mass of bodies, but to maintain his cool, trying not to lose his temper.
"Just one more person shove me..." he muttered under his breath as he shook what was left of his spilled lager off his hands.
"Don't worry, bro! I'll get you another one! It's just like Holiday tonight! They aren't counting caloric intake!" Carbine shouted over the roar of the patrons all jockeying for the best possible vantage.
"Besides, if you drank that one now, you'd just have to take a piss at the start of the show!" Carbine laughed.
Since he wasn't a fan, all the chaos, noise and long lines added up to a major headache for Jon. The one thing he had been looking forward to—his beer—had just been knocked out of his hands, and having almost made it to his seat, he wasn't about to start swimming upstream to go and procure another one. He also wasn't counting on Carbine to actually go and get him one once the show began.
Oh well.
After what seemed like an eternity, in a repeat performance of the previous night's graduation assembly, Jon and Carbine found their seats and waited for the show to begin. Despite his lack of enthusiasm, Jon had to admit that Carbine had purchased them some great seats close to the stage and near the aisle, and that this was a nice change of pace from the rigors of Academy.
Except for a few stragglers here and there, most of the people in the crowd had found their seats or their spot to stand for the show. Then came a lull in activity, just long enough for the excitement to begin to turn into restlessness when suddenly the audience's anxiety was interrupted by a loud POP.
The main halogen lights overhead turned off and were replaced with a perimeter of blue and purple spotlights that began to wave back and forth. Green lasers spread a cosmos of pinpricks across the dome ceiling of the stadium. The crowd erupted into cheers. A sudden crashing sound like a mix of breaking glass
and rushing water filled the air and easily overpowered the audience, coaxing them into a silent trance. A deep rumble of bass tones grew as the echoes of the glass-water crash dispersed into the background, creating a sense of spatial expansion. Jon found himself thinking of ice dust floating through outer space. High notes of clinking bamboo filled the range above the building bass and added to the sense of expansion, a big bang of sound, anticipatory in its nature, the star cradle of the song to come. Waves of gooseflesh rippled across Jon's neck, shoulders and arms. The bass reached its zenith and was palpable, intense and yet strangely comforting, like a tight embrace. It faded for a second, and then hit again, pulsing in Jon's chest. For the first time this evening he began to enjoy himself. He had never experienced a live show before; cadets seldom had time for such luxuries.
A kaleidoscope of light circles appeared and began a dance of weaving loops, strafing runs across the entire dome: stage, backdrop and all. As the bass started to fade again, the vacuum created by its absence was filled with a lilting, 'da, ta-da, ta-da' coming from an unseen choir of young female voices. Suddenly the bamboo and bass cut out, the lights turned off, and the crowd became engulfed in darkness. Another volley from the choir; tantalizing in their siren song, they kept the audience in their mesmerized state. There was a moment of complete silence, and then a voice, crisp and beautiful, sang out across the darkness. Its acoustics and resonance touched everyone deeply, as though the goddess of song was privately serenading each of them.
"On your shore..."
"Da, ta-da, ta-da..."
"I swam..."
Another moment of complete silence froze the auditorium as Jon and ten thousand others held their breath.
An explosion of brilliant white and blue light formed an electric flower blooming in fast-forward, coupling perfectly with a steady drum and bass beat. The choir returned to its melody. The song had fully begun.
The Goddess Gambit Page 5