by S A Shaffer
A guard escorted them down scaffolding that crisscrossed the top of the hanger, his stony expression slipping when he saw Havoc padding along after David. The docile beast looked as out of place as a businessman in the Third District. They reached the far end and walked across an observation platform to a steam lift. They rode it up several floors, and David saw the guard wrinkle his nose at their palpable stench. Sweat and swamp apparently didn’t mix well. When they reached the sixth floor, they walked down hall after hall, each filled with guards and pilots of all variety, most looking like seasoned veterans.
The ship itself stood apart, an orchid among everpines. The floors looked like they’d never been walked on. The steel gray walls and ceilings cast a shimmering reflection. None of it felt like polymer, though it had to be, as any other material would weigh the ship down. They passed rooms of every purpose: barracks, medical centers, armories, rec rooms, dining commons. David lost track of how far they walked. His steps came unbidden as he plodded along after the guard.
At last, they reached a circular room with a dozen chairs around a large oblong table with a steam projector affixed to its center. David recognized the layout of the space, a war room. Mit sat in the middle of the table pouring over maps and reports. He looked up when they entered and forced a tired smile, but his eyebrows twitched in surprise when he saw Havoc.
“What’s this?” Mit asked as he watched the glide panther cross the room.
“He will be a carpet, or hat.” David said without preamble. “It depends on how fast he grows and how long I can tolerate him.”
Mit snickered before saying, “Well, I’m glad you all made it safely back. Please, have a seat. I’d like a debriefing before you all take your rest.”
Each of them slumped into a chair and breathed a sigh of relief. A nod from Mit and the guard walked to the refreshment station and poured them each a steaming mug of tea. David looked at Mit anew, trying to work out exactly how this man had gotten his hands on a warship as prized as The Valor. There really was only one logical conclusion, but he didn’t like that answer, and it tasted sour in his mouth. Yet, as Mit met his eyes, David knew it to be true.
“Can we clear up a little matter before our debriefing?” David asked.
Mit gave him a nod.
“Mr. … Johnson?” David said and then he looked around at everybody’s reaction. It was subtle but present, nonetheless. Everybody in the room paused in what they were doing and slowly looked up. Bethany actually held her breath, but they weren’t looking at Mit, they were looking at David.
Mit took a careful sip of his tea and leaned back in his chair appraising David with his piercing brown eyes.
“The airship gave it away,” David said. “That and the underground’s facility at the Third District. It was far too large to be a recent construction, and the third only very recently became significant real estate. What I don’t understand is why you would fight against the man who has the ability to make your business empire larger than it’s ever been.”
Mit smiled and nodded. “That’s not usually the first question people ask me. They usually want to know how I’m able to appear as a fat slob whenever I resume my role as a Don. It’s fat pads and a lot of makeup, in case you were wondering. I knew it wouldn’t take you long to put it all together, but I wanted you to discover it on your own. If I’d told you this at the beginning, I don’t think you ever would have agreed to work with us. You have a distaste for the Dons, and rightly so.”
David nodded.
“My father” Johnson continued, leaning back in his chair as he launched into his story, “was as typical a Don as ever there was one: ruthless. He took our family beyond anything my ancestors ever imagined. Our pharmaceutical empire has overshadowed every other Don. During his rise to power, an intelligent, and foolish Armstadi father decided to marry his beautiful daughter off to the wealthiest man in Alönia. His greed led to his suicide and the most horrific life for a pure, young woman, my mother. My birth was the only thing that kept her from following in her father’s footsteps and ending her own wretched life. I grew up watching my father abuse my mother in every way imaginable. He justified his ruthlessness by his success. But, as is often the case, his violent and wild lifestyle ended in an early death. As you can imagine, I wanted nothing to do with him or his industry empire. I very nearly changed my name and would have if not for my mother’s interference. Make the name good and change centuries of history.” Johnson nodded. “That’s what she told me.
“But I needed some time before I assumed my role as Don. My mother looked after the company for me. The only thing that outmatched my father’s ruthlessness was my mother’s intelligence, and our company prospered even more under her leadership. I, meanwhile, joined the Alönia’s Secret Service and became a sneak. You see, as a young child my mother instilled in me a love for Armstad, as I am half Armstadi. I had my own private mission as a sneak to gather intelligence on Armstad’s enemies. I had some success, and it was on those missions where I first met your father.” Johnson nodded at David. “He was… a very exceptional pilot and a good friend.
“During our exploits we learned of an imminent war on the horizon. Time had not tempered Berg and Viörn’s battle lust, only modified it. They remember well their catastrophic defeats at the hand of your grandfather. So they’ve spent decades rebuilding and diversifying their armada’s. Both your father and I screamed this message at our superiors, and on one occasion, we presented our case to an assembly subcommittee. They ignored us. Every mission they’d applaud, pin a medal on our chests and throw our report in the wastebasket. Your grandfather tried his hand at getting them to listen, but they weren’t interested. That’s when I decided to return to my old life. If I couldn’t prevent a war as a sneak, perhaps I could prepare for it as a Don. I aligned my family’s company with the Houselands and created Alönia Public Pharmaceuticals. It might have been one last jab at my long-dead father, but it also allowed me a certain amount of anonymity. I play a pompous fool in their presence, and the man in the shadows when they’re not looking. The Houselands was all too happy to sink their fingers into the largest company in the Fertile Plains, and now have a vested interest in keeping the company alive. In return, I have a certain amount of influence in the assembly, and nobody looks twice at my books. I made some allies there, a few even know my alternate identity.”
“Representative Walker.” David asked and Johnson nodded back.
“Walker and I have a secret friendship. I knew that as long as he controlled the assembly, nobody would be able to use Public Pharmaceuticals for anything I disagreed with, despite multiple motions from Equalist to mandate and administer antipsychotics. But then Blythe took power, and I was faced with ruin on two fronts. My ancestral company would start operating against my will, and the war for which I was preparing would begin long before I was ready.”
“Blythe told me about a new wonder drug he’s administering.” David said with new understanding. “He seemed hesitant to admit it worked, but eager to distribute it.”
“Yes, methylphenidate 151.” Johnson said with a scowl. “Blythe ordered us to mass produce and dispense on the streets earlier this season. It’s advertised as a mental stimulant to expel anxiety and promote focus. In reality, it’s nothing more than dope to sedate the masses, for what reason I do not know. Perhaps to make Alönians easier for him to control. Regardless, there was one unforeseen benefit from Blythe’s order. He cut armada funding and redirected it to us. I, of course, am not interested in being the assembly’s drug dispenser, so I’m mixing a placebo into the aerosols and slowly decreasing their potency. This leaves me with an enormous amount of surplus funds, and I have put them to good use building my own armada. So, in the end, armada funding was not really cut at all. Ironic isn’t it.”
David smiled, too tired to laugh. “I’m assuming that’s what you used to purchase this vessel.”
“Quite right,” Johnson said as he rapped a knuckle on the table. “B
lythe gave it to me for a steal. I think he might have pocketed some of the cash and cost the Houselands a fortune in one fell swoop. The Valor is the first of its kind, a new generation of warship. Designed in Armstad, assembled in Alönia. The balloon envelope has a paper-thin ebony iron over-layer adding considerable strength without any additional weight. The reinforced polymer interior gives additional strength and sheds an unbelievable amount of weight. Less weight meaning more skiffs and more armaments.”
“Odd, David said, “I must have missed the gun emplacements when I flew in.”
“No, we had to remove the larger ones.” Johnson said with a frown. “Can’t exactly have a private citizen flying around in the most heavily armed ship in the Houselands. All the small arms are still in place, and I can refit the long guns at a moment’s notice. But until such need should arise, we cloak ourselves as a simple skiff carrier.”
“You were probably right not to tell me who you were from the start. I’ve always had a prejudice against Don’s.”
Johnson smiled. “So have I. We both have our reason.”
“Perhaps, but events in Thornton have made the situation a little more bleak than you understand. We have no time for my prejudices. I’m not sure how, but Blythe discovered our treachery and tried to capture us.”
“Yes, we guessed as much when a whole squad of gunships descended on the resort like a flock of vultures.”
“True, but we learned much before we were discovered. For one, Blythe is plotting with Hephnaire to dismantle Public Pharmaceuticals and the sixth with Hephnaire’s unions. We overheard them plotting, just before the 11:00 meeting.”
“So Hephnaire wasn’t the one in the meeting.” Johnson said as he rubbed his jaw.
“Yes, but did you hear me?” David said with a little more urgency. “He’s going to dismantle your company and the Sixth District.”
“That was bound to happen sooner or later. It was only a matter of time, just as it’s only a matter of time before they discover I’m diluting the drugs and embezzling from the assembly. I have faith in the citizens of the sixth and my own employees to see through this plot. And if they don’t, then there is hardly an Alönia left worth saving.” Johnson leaned forward. “Tell me, if Hephnaire wasn’t the mystery man of the secret meeting, who was?
David looked at Francisco and Bethany, but they both yielded to him to give the report. “We don’t know the man’s identity. We only know that he’s small, prefers Senchá tea, and uses analogies about sewing permanent tapestries.”
“Viörn!” Johnson said slapping his hand on the table as he stood. “Short you say? It couldn’t be…” He looked at Francisco with a question in his eyes.
“That was our conclusion as well.” Francisco said. “Especially after David noted Blythe’s fear of the man.”
“What did they talk about?” Johnson asked, looking between David and Francisco.
“The planned destruction of our airships.” Francisco said.
Johnson froze before falling back in his chair. He rested his head in his hands. “And we have such a speaker.”
“It may be time to put politics aside.” Francisco said. “If he’s undermining Alönia for the Viörn…”
“No.” Johnson said from his hands. “We can’t just assassinate him. For one, we don’t have any more people in his office. And two, we know the harm he’s doing because we know how sinister Blythe is, but to everyone else…” Johnson dropped his hands into his lap. “They’ll laud him as the instrument that brought peace to the Fertile Plains right up until the Viörn and Berg blow Capital Orbital out of the sky. No, the people must cast Blythe out, or not at all.”
“But we don’t have time to wait till the next census.” Francisco said. “We have half a season before Blythe destroys the armada. We don’t have enough proof to convince the assembly to remove him and no way to acquire more. And even if we did, do you think they’d remove a man that 75% of them believe a god. Your band of mercenaries isn’t enough to fight a war with two countries.”
Johnson nodded. “Thank you, Francisco. I will take that into consideration. Was there anything else they discussed?”
“No,” David said with a wince. “I sort of cut the meeting short.”
“Ah, I see.” Johnson said. “Well, regardless, you all did a fine job. That’s more intelligence gathered in three days than we’ve had in three seasons. You all should get a good night’s sleep.”
“Good!” Bethany said. “I want a bath and something other than sunbathing clothes.”
Everyone stood and nodded. Despite the dire situation, each longed for a few hours of sleep.
“Except you, David.” Johnson said, and everyone looked at him. “We have had word from your mother—”
“Is she ok?” David asked as his heart started racing. When last he’d left her, Dr. Abraham was preparing for a surgery, a surgery he’d informed David on many occasions might kill her.
“I think you misunderstand. We’ve had word…” Johnson paused, “from your mother. She sent the word. She woke up sooner than expected.”
David shook his head. “She did.” Then it hit him. “She’s talking! When? For how long? What… What did she say?”
“She asks that you come and visit her.” Johnson said with a smile. “I told her you might be too tired, but that I’d ask anyway.”
David was flabbergasted. “You… you what?”
Then Johnson tossed him something that jingled. David caught it and held up a pair of keys.
“That’s my skiff.” Johnson said. This airship is heading back to the underground as we speak, but that skiff will make it in half the time.”
“Thank you, sir.” David said as he stumbled around his chair. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Well if you don’t know what to say than get going and say it to your mother. Rudolph, kindly show him to my skiff.” Johnson said to the guard waiting at the door.
David trod on the guards heals three times on the walk back to the carrier’s bays. He wanted to run, but the guard insisted on walking. When they reached the hanger, a different one than David had landed in, David abandoned the guard and made for the only modified Mark II Night Hawk in the entire bay of stock skiffs. Johnson wasn’t the type to fly an ordinary skiff. He knew he’d guess correctly as the keys unlocked the canopy, and he climbed inside. The guard opened the bay doors while David flash heated his pontoons. The moment they reached minimum lift, he detached from the docking clamps and dropped through the partly opened bay doors. The skiff slipped through with barely a foot on either side. As soon as he was airborne, David wasted no time in maxing out the skiff’s capabilities. He rocketed forward and enjoyed the exhilaration provided by the duel thrusters and the modified burner. In no time at all he’d left the carrier behind, but he didn’t slow down for anything. His mother was talking, and he had so much he wanted to ask her.
◆◆◆
Mercy ran across the Valor, or at least she ran as fast as was proper for a young lady. She’d just seen Bethany enter a cabin, and that could only mean one thing: David was onboard.
Surely Johnson meant to tell David she was still alive. He couldn’t exactly keep the two of them on an airship together and expect her to hide away in her room the entire time. Actually, that was probably exactly what he intended, but he couldn’t help it if she walked into the war room and stumbled right into David. After all, he hadn’t warned her David would be on board, and he hadn’t told her to avoid him. If he didn’t want them to see each other, he should have planned accordingly. Mercy looked down every hall as she passed them, just in case David had already left the war room. She almost shouted at the back of a complete stranger with a black mechanical arm and brown hair, but after another look at him and the guard who escorted him down the hall, she realized he was too tall for David, and his even gate never broke stride. She looked at every young man she passed, causing a few of them to smile and some to blush, but she didn’t see David in the halls. She walked
up to the war room door but paused before opening it. She looked around for a mirror but settled for the polished door latch. She brushed her hair out of her face and straightened up her gown after her rush across the ship. She couldn’t help her flushed face or her wild heartbeat, so she took a deep breath and fixed her posture. She entered.
Inside the war room she found Johnson and Francisco leaning against the side of the table and chatting over cups of tea, but no David. She looked around the room once more upon entering just to be sure.
“Where is he?” She asked.
“I’m afraid you’ve just missed him.” Johnson said.
“Where has he gone? What room?” Mercy asked, already turning back to the door.
“No, he’s not on board anymore.” Johnson said. “He took my skiff and flew on ahead of us.”
Mercy looked at the floor and sank into one of the chairs around the table.
“When, Mr. Johnson?” She asked, all of her excitement giving way to tears, which she did her best to hold back. “When will you tell him I’m still alive? When will I get to see him?”
“Mercy—” Johnson started, but she cut him off.
“No please, let me finish.” She said as she wiped her nose. “I know it’s silly, and I know this is not the time, and I don’t even know why, but I want him to know that I’m alive, and I care for him. I want him to know before he forgets about me. I…”
“Mercy, before you go on—”
“He’s such a good man, and it pains me to see him suffering.” Mercy said. “If knowing I’m alive stops his hurt, even if he hates me afterward, I’m willing to do it. He’s a good man, Mr. Johnson. I know you can trust him. He will not betray us, not now. Not now that he knows who Blythe is, and what the Equalists actually stand for.”
“I know Mercy, that’s—”
“Then why won’t you let me go to him?” Mercy asked, as her hands clenched the folds in her skirts.
“Mercy, when we arrive back at Braxton, I want you to go to David.” Johnson said.
