“Sorry we’re late,” came the voice of Joseph Franklin over the Torques. “Traffic, you know,” he said. “We have the two cars and the van on lock.”
“Just pick them up and put them down somewhere else,” Jeremy ordered. “Jamal, let’s pay a visit to that house we just passed.”
“Yes sir.” Jamal slowed the car just as the two SUVs and the lone panel truck were pulled into the air as if by an unseen hand.
“Right on time,” Emily reported. “Care to join us, Dr. Franklin?”
“I have an Alsoo neuter telling me in no uncertain tones that I am a ‘crazy/think big split-tail/me,’” replied Franklin. “So yes, I would love to join you,” he said. “Frozen River and Black Rocks will stay with the Shrike.”
“And that’s only because we drew the short straws,” Black Rocks cut in and complained.
“And Red Clouds Paint the Sky, Light of Three Moons, and Jana will come with me,” Franklin continued.
“Jana?” asked Emily.
“Second-Daughter-Third-Born,” replied Franklin. There was a crash as the two SUVs and the panel truck hit the ground hard. “Picked up. Put down,” Franklin’s voice said cheerfully. “You started something, Jamal Shadowed Heart,” he continued. “Or rather, Sunrise did, which impresses me no end, by the way.”
A shuttle appeared a safe distance away and hovered just above the ground. A hatch opened, and three figures emerged— two Rynn on their own legs and one human in his personal support pod that floated a foot above the ground. The pod was tilted forward, and since it outlined his body from his feet to his chest, he looked more like he was inside an anime-inspired mech-suit. The idea that anime had a great influence on the design of the pod was enhanced by the control blister on his shoulder. The blister contained a visibly excited Alsoo manipulating a set of controls. “Anyway, I found, believe it or not, a Naga name generator.”
“Jana new/call me,” agreed the Alsoo. “Pretty.”
“Yes, it is,” agreed Franklin. “Aren’t the three of you supposed to keep Jeremy out of trouble?” he complained lightly. “You know Kasumi is going to have words with you regardless of how this plays out.”
“Yes sir,” agreed Jamal. “However, I doubt the captain would have had better success getting the Teacher to do anything he does not wish to do.”
Dr. Franklin grinned. “Be sure to mention that to her,” he encouraged. He made a chirping sound. “Black Rocks, have you completed a scan of the surroundings?”
“Just updating the information now,” replied the voice of Franklin’s core brother. “That house has been reinforced with armored plate, with a section that has double the reinforcement,” he said.
An image appeared in front of several people.
“Safe room,” Jamal stated.
“And?” asked Jeremy.
Jamal tilted his head and examined the image. “Tunnel entrance,” he said. “Probably booby-trapped,” he said in observation. He whistled. “They’ve got shields. Heavy-duty ones.”
“Agreed,” said Franklin. “Who owns this place?”
“An old friend of the Teacher,” Emily replied. “A former US senator by the name of Malcolm Coolidge.”
“How disappointing,” said Jeremy.
“Disappointing, Teacher?” asked Emily, her freckled face scrunching up cutely in confusion.
He waved an all-encompassing hand. “All this. All the deaths. All the wasted time and effort on a meaningless war. To Senator Coolidge, none of that is as important as getting the last word,” he said. “He used the renewal of civil war to hide a simple kidnapping,” he complained. “I have half a mind to just ignore the idiot and go home.”
“You can’t let him get away with all this,” Jamal objected forcefully. “You can’t do that.”
“I said ‘half a mind,’ Jamal,” chided Jeremy “But any response we make must have the required effect,” he said. “What says, ‘Do not bother the Forest Cabin Clan’ in language the senator would understand?”
“How about carving ‘Do not bother the Forest Cabin Clan’ on his forehead?” suggested Emily.
“Tempting,” agreed Jeremy. “But no.” He looked at the house. “Let’s make him use that safe room,” he said. “Joseph, could you please have the Shrike demolish that house?” he said. “But not all at once. After all, we want him to make it to the safe room.”
Franklin chirped. “Did you get all that, Black Rocks?”
“Targeting program is locked and ready, Joseph,” Black Rocks replied. “Just say the word.”
“The word,” Franklin replied with a wide smile.
“Humans are so weird,” complained Black Rocks. “Launch.”
There was a boom, and the upper left part of the large house exploded. Ten seconds later, the upper right side exploded.
“He’s moving,” Emily reported. “Better take another shot; they’re starting to slow down.” The middle of the building exploded a second later. “And they’re moving.”
“Finish the job just as they get inside the safe room,” Jeremy ordered.
“And they’re in,” Emily reported. The sound of a double boom followed. “Nice shooting, Black Rocks.”
Malcolm Coolidge wiped his sweating jowls. Eighteen years older, forty pounds heavier, he remained the same bombastic figure who had propelled himself into politics. He had amassed great wealth and great power despite losing his senate seat some years earlier. All losing that seat had done was free up some time that he had better use for. “It’s been quiet for the past fifteen minutes,” he said. “Maybe they think I’m dead and left.”
“Maybe we should show them a body so they can be sure,” said a sour female voice. A woman in her late thirties sat in a chair possessively hugging the pale and quiet twelve-year-old boy in her lap. “How dare you involve Alexander in one of your schemes.”
The preceding eighteen years had been kind to Denise Coolidge, at least physically. The young boy on her lap was all that remained of a happy marriage cut short by a misguided civil war. She had lived for the past fifteen years in this house, one of a number of properties owned by the Coolidge family. It had two redeeming virtues: it was free, and normally, it was far away from her father. “I should never have let you in the front door.”
“Shut up, Denise,” snapped Malcolm Coolidge. “I’m thinking.”
Denise bit down on the obvious retort and hugged her son tighter. She’d known something was wrong when her father had suddenly shown up two nights ago. Maybe wrong was not the right word, she considered now, but something was going on, and now her home of the last fifteen years was destroyed. Someone will pay for that, she vowed.
She looked up at the sound of a jarringly prosaic knocking on the door to the safe room.
“Who … who’s there?” she called.
“Denise!” Malcom Coolidge snapped angrily.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Edwards?” called a gravelly voice. “Is Alexander all right?”
“We … we’re fine,” Denise called back.
“Excellent,” replied the voice. There was a humming, and then the door crashed inwards. A moment later, a young black man walked into the room holding a ready weapon. He was quickly followed by two other young adults, one female and human, and one male and Rynn. She swallowed when the fourth person entered. “Mr. Blunt.”
“Mrs. Edwards,” the old man said gravely. “Alexander.”
“Be polite, Alexander,” Denise said firmly.
“Yes, Mother,” the young boy replied. “Greetings, sir.”
Jeremy nodded and walked over to where Denise and Alexander were now standing. He knelt down a little to look into the eyes of the young boy. “I know you are too young to truly understand what is going on, but I must speak to you about something very important.” The boy seemed to be about to say something, but then he nodded. “Good,” sai
d Jeremy. “A long time ago, even before your mother was born, a feud started.” He frowned. “Do you know what a feud is, Alexander?”
“Yes, sir. It’s when families fight,” replied Alexander.
Jeremy nodded in approval. “Exactly,” he agreed. “Your family and my family are feuding.”
“It is a stupid feud,” snapped Denise. “Senseless and futile,” she said angrily. “If I had my way, I’d be done with it all.”
“Unfortunately, and may I add stupidly, it is not your decision,” Jeremy replied. “It is, however, Alexander’s.”
“Don’t say anything, Alexander,” ordered Malcolm Coolidge. “I’m still in charge.”
“For now,” agreed Jeremy. “But one day, Alexander will be,” he said. “And it is to that future authority that I am speaking.”
“Don’t say anything, Alexander,” repeated Malcolm Coolidge sharply. “Nothing.”
The young boy swallowed nervously. “You’re right, sir, I don’t really know what’s going on. But I do know that my mom doesn’t want this feud to continue. It makes her cry, and I don’t like that,” he said. “And if I can stop it, I will.”
Jeremy smiled and stood. “Thank you, Alexander,” he said in satisfied tones. “Mrs. Edwards, if there is anything you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I need a new house,” Denise said sourly.
“That goes without saying,” Jeremy replied. “I meant if you needed something difficult to obtain,” he said. “In the meantime, and only if you wish, I can offer you a ride. It would be to the colony at first, but only until we replace your home.” He leaned forward. “By your son’s words, the feud is over. You have nothing to fear from me,” he said quietly.
Denise nodded. “I think we will take you up on that offer,” she said.
“Emily, why don’t you escort Mrs. Edwards and Alexander to Light of Three Moons and Red Clouds Paint the Sky,” Jeremy said. He looked at Alexander. “Have you ever met an Alsoo, Alexander?” He smiled as the boy slowly shook his head. “Her name is Jana, and she’s a very fine lady.”
“Come along, Alexander,” Denise said, and she led her son over to where Emily waited. Soon, they were gone.
Jeremy turned. “Your life is literally in my hands,” he said somberly to Malcolm Coolidge. “I lost my grandfather at eighteen, and that was difficult enough. I shudder to think what it would be like to lose your grandfather at twelve.”
“It sucks,” Jamal muttered.
“Yes, you would know,” Jeremy said. He pointed a finger at Coolidge. “And you were partially responsible for his knowing that,” he said in his gravelly voice.
Jeremy reached out and grabbed Coolidge by the throat. Pain blossomed under those fingers. “I want to make something very clear to you,” Jeremy said. “First, this is the only time I will tell you this: leave me and mine alone. Second, the reason why it will be the only time is that any provocation will result in your death.”
“You can’t threaten me,” wheezed Coolidge. “When I am done, you won’t even have that stupid cabin you’re so proud of.” He tried to pry Jeremy’s fingers off his throat. “I’m a former US senator and you’re just a hired killer. Who do you think would be believed?”
“Teacher, I believe the man is mentally ill,” Morning Stars Fade said in amazement. “Does he truly not know who and what you are?” He turned to Malcolm Coolidge. “Sir, you are speaking to the head and founder of the Forest Cabin Clan.”
“So he’s the head of some big family,” Coolidge replied, still trying to remove Jeremy’s fingers from around his throat.
“Spirits, you truly do not know,” Morning Stars Fade said. “Sir, to a Rynn, a clan is not just a family. It’s more closely related to a country, except that it’s a corporation—and even that’s not all of it. A clan is businesses and property and all that belongs to the common economy,” he said almost pleadingly. “Clans that are competently run grow, and clans that are incompetently run disappear—their assets and people absorbed by another clan.”
He continued, “The Forest Cabin Clan is most competently run. By your reckoning, it’s worth is somewhere around twenty trillion American dollars.” He looked into the man’s eyes. “Twenty trillion dollars that the Teacher can draw upon at will,” he said.
Malcolm Coolidge stopped struggling and stared at Morning Stars Fade in disbelief.
“For example,” Morning Stars Fade said, “the ship that destroyed this house is owned by the Forest Cabin Clan.”
“I thought it was owned by the colony,” wheezed Malcolm Coolidge.
“Sir, the Forest Cabin Clan is the colony,” Morning Stars Fade said in emphasis. “The Forest Cabin Clan owns the Nieth. The Forest Cabin Clan owns DefSat One and commands all five of Earth’s defense satellites. It part-owns the space dock. It owns the Seeker. Right now, the Forest Cabin Clan is approximately the tenth largest economy on Earth. And growing.”
He walked over and gently removed Jeremy’s fingers from around the senator’s throat. “Do not bother the Forest Cabin Clan again,” he said softly and then turned. “We should go, Teacher.”
Jeremy nodded and started walking away.
“One more thing, sir,” said Morning Stars Fade. He leaned forward. “It won’t be the Teacher who executes you. It will be me,” he whispered into the senator’s ear. Then he smiled and turned away.
Jeremy returned to the shuttle to find an entranced Alexander talking to the Alsoo neuter Jana. Denise Edwards looked at Jeremy. She must have seen what she was looking for in his face and nodded. “I would not have mourned,” she said. “You’re kinder than he deserves.”
“For Alexander’s sake,” Jeremy replied. “And for yours.”
The following evening, Jeremy was on the front porch of his cabin in the woods. He finished his one allowed cigarette and carefully stubbed it out. “It’s over, Mei Lin,” he said to the night sky. “The world is still having its problems, but this one thing, at least, is finally done.” He levered himself to his feet and walked into the cabin.
The princess looked at the Temple of Light. It seemed somehow festive. She clapped her hands together twice. “I am the princess,” she said. “I have thirsted and learned the true value of water. I have hungered and learned to appreciate what I eat, and I have been naked and learned to be comfortable in my skin.” She knelt at the foot of the stairs. She heard someone approaching and looked up with tears in her eyes. “Have you come to say goodbye, Grandfather?” she asked.
An old monk sat down on the bottom step and placed his hand on the princess’s head. “It’s you who needs to say goodbye, Granddaughter,” the monk said in a gravelly voice. “I have kept Mei Lin waiting long enough.”
“I will sing for both of you every night,” the princess promised. “Goodbye, Grandfather.”
Kasumi opened her eyes—eyes that were damp with tears. A hand reached out and took hers.
“He’s gone, Mel,” Kasumi said.
“I know,” Mel whispered back. “I was there.”
“We all were,” David Eisenstaft added in dazed tones.
Kasumi sat up and rubbed her face tiredly. Her hands came away wet. She took a breath and began to sing.
Epilogue
Jeremy Blunt was dead. It was doubtful that four words had meant so much to so many ever before. Jeremy Blunt was dead, and in an assault shuttle on its way into potential conflict, twenty-one Naga-like Alsoo wept. Their sad warbles filled the ship. Nor were they the only ones on the shuttle to grieve. Captain Hendriks wiped away a tear with one big hand.
“Should we abort the mission?” the tiny humanoid with the bird-like features sitting next to him asked.
Hendriks took a breath and then stood. “What is wrong with you ladies?” he sneered. “So the old man is dead. What did he say about dying?” he asked.
“That dying wa
s easy—any fool could do it,” Cool Evening Breeze replied. She briefly covered her eyes in respect.
“That’s right.” Hendriks locked gazes with the various soldiers seated in the shuttle—human, Rynn, and Alsoo. “Any fool could do it,” he said. “He also said it isn’t the dying but the death that counts,” he added. “He was an old man, and he died quietly and peacefully.” He shook his head. “And in bed.” He smiled slightly. “He must have been disappointed.”
“Dizzy/think split-tail/you. Sad Spirit-Speaker not,” Cobra warbled dismissively. “Spirit-Speaker die/he safe/warm in burrow/he.”
“Do you expect to die in bed, Cobra?” Hendriks replied. “Safe and warm and surrounded by your wife and hatchlings?” he asked. “Or do you expect to die sticking that toothpick you call a spear up the butt of some Polig-Grug bastard that’s attacking your burrow?” Hendriks asked derisively.
The little Alsoo waved his hand in agreement. “Crazy split-tail/yes. Dizzy think/not,” agreed Cobra. “Spirit Speaker warrior/he,” he warbled to his fellow centurions. “Hen’riks speak/he truth. Warrior/we die/we fighting. Die/we protecting.” He slapped his chest. “Truth/oath.”
Hendriks slapped his own chest. “Truth/oath,” he returned. “The old man was a warrior, and he’d be the first to tell you that you’re all acting like hatchlings,” he said. “Yes, he’s dead, and yes, we miss him. But you shame him and all he’s done by crying.”
“Truth/oath,” Cobra agreed. He rose up as high as he could in his specially designed seat. “Warriors tall/be,” he warbled loudly. The rest of the centurions rose up. “This time fight/we. Fight done cry/we.”
“Now that sounds like something the spirit speaker would say.” Cool Evening Breeze covered her eyes briefly. “We got a job to do. We’ll cry later,” she said. “That’s what warriors do.” Her face blurred, and she was wearing her red and black war paint.
“Oo-rah,” grunted the human, Rynn and Alsoo fighters.
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