At the very least, the idealistic Sammie would have been proud of the new Jamie. He assumed the mantle of a Chancellor, wearing the suit symbolizing his people’s military might and legacy. He became a cold, disciplined killer. He earned the praise of an admiral and found the brother once denied to him. He was everything she expected of herself.
She wanted to hate him.
Instead, Sammie closed off her shame and pushed for answers.
“Tell me what this is about,” she insisted as she walked alongside the admiral.
“Hmm,” Perrone mused. “The answer to that query is altogether complicated. Perhaps you would prefer a logistical summary?”
“Fine. Why are you here?”
“I am here, child, because dear Ophelia is not the erratic fool you probably thought her to be after the IDF.”
“What do you mean?”
“We are here at her beckon. She orchestrated this symphony, Ms. Pynn, with a nudge from myself and her Chief.”
“She and Patricia both? They knew about this?”
He sighed. “Think, Ms. Pynn. You’re a Chancellor—and, from what James has told me, your father trained you to be a peacekeeper. Did you not consider Ophelia’s plan to be more than a little flawed when she briefed you? Walking into a possible trap, exposing everyone to the enemy on a tiny island in the middle of the Atlantic? Did you not consider Patricia Wylehan’s tactical deployment at the outpost to defy logic?
“It’s simple, Ms. Pynn. Ophelia planned to rescue the second Jewel and she did not want to risk another debacle. We wanted this young woman brought to us in safety. Additionally, I needed to open another front in an ongoing security matter. Our needs merged.”
“What needs?”
“We share a common enemy.” He eyed all five people in his company. “The same one who almost killed James at the fold, who tried to obliterate you with an energy slew, and who we knew was desperate enough to walk into a trap of our own making.”
“My father,” James said.
Sammie faced the brothers. Valentin nodded.
“I have business with Emil Bouchet,” Perrone continued. “Today, I intend to finish it. Ophelia chose the Isle of Seneca out of convenience. She spent many years working at this facility and has contacts among the administration. She impressed on them the importance of this mission and made sure they sent the facility into lockdown right after your shuttle landed.”
“So, those others, they were sent here by Emil Bouchet?”
“Indeed.”
“Why? None of this makes sense. All we wanted to do was meet the Ukrainian girl and leave. Why pick a fight that wasn’t needed?”
“Because Emil’s ever-vigilant security apparatus learned of this rendezvous, with our assistance, and he predictably sent his primaries to ambush you at the transfer. Ophelia’s mercenaries and crew were dispersed for the sole purpose of drawing out the enemy. We knew they would make a move when the Jewel’s ship arrived. And everything—including that arrival—was timed for maximum effect. I must say, however, I was not made aware you and Mr. Cooper joined the mission. You will have to ask Ophelia and her Chief why they exposed you to such risk.”
Sammie’s frustration deepened. “Oh, I will. You can count on that. But we saw the shuttle coming in, and minutes later, we heard an explosion at the transport bay. What happened?”
“A tactic in line with Wylehan’s service record. Those vermin were never going to come anywhere near the Ukrainian. Besides, she was not on the Scram.” He chuckled. “Ophelia’s idea. The Scram arrived under blind flight during the middle of the night. It landed seven kilometers northeast of the facility. Bouchet’s people arrived at Heinlein three hours later. Enough time to make themselves comfortable.”
“What happened back there? Did any of our people die? We lost track of everyone at the last minute.”
“Wylehan had them on circastream. They took positions on the go-order. Two casualties among the mercenaries. Minimal losses. Their families will be compensated. Part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
“Ophelia and her Chief would not work with me without compensation and guarantees. Their rationale should be obvious.”
“What did you give them?”
“Protection and prestige, Ms. Pynn. Dear Ophelia maintains control over her project, and Patricia Wylehan walks away with a small fortune. She can settle anywhere off-world and live her days without taking arms against the Chancellory. I cannot erase her shame as a failed officer of the Guard, but I can free her of Earth, and that is no small reward.”
“That’s all she needed? Money? After what you did to her unit?”
He stopped and stared. “Do I detect moral qualms, Ms. Pynn? I thought Walter and Grace taught you better.”
She glanced at James, who seemed indifferent. At the very least, in no hurry to her defense. Behind him, Michael shrugged. He mouthed the silent words “I got nothing.”
She had little more, as if she was starting over, entering this world for the first time.
“Fine, Admiral. Great. So, I’m an idiot. But I’m not brain-dead. What did you gain by wiping out Emil Bouchet’s security team?”
“The same thing any good soldier earns when he lures the enemy away from his base of operations: A way in.”
He tossed out a holocube. It opened with an external shot of a giant structure looming well above the clouds and extending to the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Perrone focused on the brothers.
“This was not an easy decision for Valentin and James, but they each have special motivation. They must hold the sins of their father to account.” They nodded as he spoke. “Emil Bouchet has not left SkyTower in twenty years. He is well protected but also unaware I have been chipping away at his defenses for years. Thanks to my compromise with Ophelia, he risked his primaries. In effect, he gave away the keys to the front door.”
He double-tapped his amp and threw open a second holocube, which displayed a grand room with elegant furniture, vaulted ceilings, and sculptured lighting arrays. The view panned over.
Another festooned officer entered the frame.
“Maj. Marshall,” the admiral said. “Your report?”
“Excellent news, Admiral,” said Sexton Marshall. “We have secured the Bouchet compound. Minimal casualties.”
“And our hosts?”
“Awaiting your pleasure, sir.”
Marshall pointed and the holocube followed. Sammie did not recognize these people sitting on a couch, but the family resemblance was clear enough. Emil and Frances Bouchet. Sammie glanced at James, who gave no hint of emotion. After everything he went through with Tom and Marlena Sheridan, after agonizing over their deaths, she assumed he would show something. Joy, relief, anticipation, even rage. The old Jamie would have bundled them all.
“Very good,” Perrone said. “Emil, Frances! Wonderful to see you both again. And I have fantastic news. Both your sons are alive and well. Look at them.” He shifted the cube. “Soldiers of the Guard. A matching set. And so keen to speak to you on matters of great sensitivity. Yes?”
The parents said nothing. Maj. Marshall did.
“We await your arrival, Admiral.”
“Indeed, Major. A good and dutiful friend, as always.”
He closed the cubes and leaned in to Samantha. He grabbed her by the chin.
“You may be a Chancellor by birth, but you are also a child. Do not forget.” As Sammie let the verbal dagger bury deep, Perrone switched gears to James. “And now, for your present. What do you say we meet the other Jewel?”
39
J AMES DARED NOT EXPLAIN HIMSELF to Michael and Sammie, not when Holland, Valentin, or Perrone could disrupt his plans in a heartbeat. He wanted them to understand what he’d become and where he was headed. James blinked and strode beside Ignatius.
“I’m closer than I could have imagined. If my father has the answers Perrone promised, I’ll have a real chance to finish this.”
He walked alongsid
e Ignatius through a street of the nuked city. Ashen sculptures of human remains lay scattered amid the rubble.
Ignatius sighed. “And if he does not? What then?”
“Then it means the admiral lied.”
“You heard what Michael said about honest Chancellors.”
“I’m not sure who to trust. One of them will turn on us, I’m sure of it. Perrone, Ophelia, Emil. There’s another move coming. If I don’t anticipate it…”
“You did not mention Valentin. Is he beyond reproach?”
“Yes. What we share is unique. He will be with me, whatever I decide.”
“And if your decision is to kill your father? Will he join you in plunging the knife through Emil’s heart?”
“If I prove our father needs to die, then yes. He will.”
Ignatius scooped ash. It fell through his fingers.
“You may be right, but I also think it won’t matter.” Ignatius ran his hand across James’s cheek, painting it gray. “She’s coming, James. She’ll be in front of you in minutes. When you see her, the changes in your life will dwarf these past few days.”
James pushed the other Jewel from his thoughts during the madness of the past few hours, but she was always there, niggling around in the back of his mind. Her presence never disappeared after she crossed into this universe and entered his dreams.
“Why?” James asked. “I already know what she is.”
“Precisely the problem. Like you, she can do THIS.” He pointed to the destruction. “But like you, she is an altered human coexisting with a life form of potential far beyond the human imagination. You are the only two of your kind in a hundred light-years. You will not be inclined to destroy what might literally be called a soulmate.”
“I’m stronger than you think, Ignatius.”
“Are you? There was one other like you. Like her. He walked the path possessing the wisdom of the Jewel. He struggled to the last day of his life, bearing the knowledge that a Jewel-human hybrid was an abomination. Then, on the day he liberated Hiebimini, he also liberated the Jewel within. He paid with his life, but he served the greater good. If I recall, you came through the fold with similar determination. Yes?”
“And my plan has not changed. You’ll see. But you… you never said Ignatius Horne was like me.”
“There are countless secrets I haven’t spilled, James. We’ve only known each other a short time. If you live long enough, you’ll learn all the secrets. Then you’ll beg to die.”
He blinked twice and continued following the party of five along a walkway heading northeast of the outpost.
They walked in silence for several minutes. Sammie didn’t say a word after Perrone called her a child. He couldn’t recall ever going this long without hearing Michael riff. If he had ten minutes in a room with them, he’d explain everything. They had no time for a meaningful conversation since crossing the fold.
Soon enough, fate arrived. Five figures rounded a bend in the walkway some hundred feet ahead just as the admiral’s Scramjet moved into position for a landing at a nearby clearing. The morning sun began to break over the eastern tree line.
Ophelia Tomelin led them. James didn’t recognize any of the other Chancellors, but he knew her. The Jewel. She was as tall as the rest, but she dressed like no one on this Earth. Her full-length coat reminded him of photos from world history class: Russian fighters in the old days, before the Communists took over. What were they called? Big fur hats, rounded swords? As they drew closer, he recognized the hilt of a sword in a pouch slung over the coat. He was already impressed. She must have refused to change into Chancellor garb. It was very warm here, perhaps eighty degrees. She had to be suffering underneath.
As they neared, he heard other voices on both teams speak, but James never took his eyes off the Jewel.
She carried the swagger of a girl his age – a rising senior ready to pounce on the world. But better: She was a fighter. Even more, she was a killer. Her features told a story: steeled by loss, world-weary, disciplined through purpose. James smelled the gunpowder on her hands, tasted the blood of her victims on her blade.
A surprising sound snapped him out of his trance. Sammie walked up to Ophelia and delivered a powerful slap across the woman’s right cheek, throwing the scientist back on her heels.
“You could have told us,” Sammie insisted. “Michael and I almost died out there.”
Ophelia glanced between Sammie and Perrone.
“I deserved that,” she said. “I’m sorry, Samantha. We had a plan, and I couldn’t risk drawing attention. I knew a classified way out of the facility, and I couldn’t risk suspicion by bringing others along.”
“You even removed Linton. She was supposed to protect us.”
“I didn’t think you would be in any danger. Our enemy wasn’t focused on you. They wanted the Jewel. And you are trained to defend yourself. Yes?”
“Come now,” Perrone interrupted. “No sense in a minor squabble over what might have been. Our guests have arrived, and we need to board my ship.” He introduced himself, but the girl did not speak. She did, however, glare. “I understand your position,” he told her. “If I had encountered the same treachery, I would be suspicious, too. No matter. You are with us now and safe.”
“You sure about that, Admiral?” Sammie unleashed her fury. “Ophelia said someone on our team was a spy. Didn’t you?” She stared down Dr. Tomelin. “Three possibilities: Brey, Rikard, and Patricia. Was that a lie, too?”
James heard the dispute, even as Ophelia struggled for a response, but his focus never left the Ukrainian. His heart grew lighter, his thoughts dizzy with anticipation as he studied her. Then it came to him. A full name. Rayna Tsukanova.
“We don’t have time for this,” Ophelia said. “I promise to talk later. Admiral, I’d like to introduce Misha Tsukanov, the last surviving observer of the Ukrainian team.” Misha offered Perrone a side-nod. Ophelia added, “It is not his birth name, but he has chosen to keep it.”
Misha, tall and blond and old enough to be the Jewel’s father, shared a smile with the girl. Misha wore a Chancellor-made suit.
“It is not protocol, but I have lived with this beautiful name for fifteen years, admiral. It has been my duty to watch over Rayna. In her honor, I wish to keep this identity.”
“Understood,” Perrone said. “We will reach accommodations with your descendency. And you,” he faced the girl. “Rayna Tsukanova. I cannot express how momentous this day has become.”
“You can try,” Rayna said, her thick Russian accent carrying a wind of disdain. “But do not bother. I have no use for praise.”
Misha interrupted. “Apologies. Rayna has been through a difficult experience. She has lost those who mattered most to her, including her father.”
“And my horses.”
“Yes, and the horses.”
“Excuse me?” Perrone said.
“We struggled to meet our arrival schedule,” Misha said. “Rayna insisted our horses be brought aboard the Scram and taken to a safe place to live out their lives. We set them free on the plains of Domadi, where they could join the wild herds.”
Perrone nodded. “My condolences about your father. I did not know Peter well, but he always struck me as…”
“Do not talk of Father,” she glared.
“Very well. Then we should move forward. Rayna, I suspect you know who this is.” The admiral eyed James. “He too has suffered but is coming into his own quite beautifully. As will you. Rayna Tsukanova, meet…”
She jumped his words. “James Bouchet, son of Emil and Frances Bouchet.” James took a half-step forward, wondering if he should shake her hand, hug her, tip his head. Kiss her. But Rayna kept both arms wrapped behind her back. Firm, at a safe distance.
He kept his response cautious. “Pleased to meet you, Rayna.”
There were echoes of other voices, discussion of next steps, the need for Rayna to change out of her Cossack garb, and orders to board the Scramjet, but James listened
to none of it. Instead, a different sensation arrived, an itch in his mind, taking form as a Russian voice.
- You are more beautiful man than I dreamed.
He replied without opening his lips.
- And you’re a beautiful woman. Your hair. What is it called?
- It is forelock. All Cossacks of dignity wear it. Do you like?
- I do.
- This red skin you wear is ridiculous.
- It keeps me alive in battle.
- You have killed many?
- Yes. And I will kill many more.
- Good. Then we are fit for each other. No?
- Yes. But we are also monsters.
- Da. This is our tragedy. They must not know we speak this way.
- Agreed. If they find out, they’ll try to separate us.
- Which would be most terrible mistake.
- Rayna, I feel your anger, but you have to play along with them for now. We need them, and some of them might even help us.
- I do not play nice. These Chancellors are assholes. They have no honor.
- Yes, most of them are shit. But there are friends. The man next to me is…
- Your brother. I am no fool.
- He more than anyone is the key. He has a strength we’ll need.
- If you say so. I will trust you, James Bouchet. But you only.
- Fair enough. We need to board the ship now, Rayna. We have so much to do.
When she turned away, the verbal connection severed, but not the smell of her skin or the imagined taste of her lips. He took deep but steady breaths. James thought of Ignatius’s words: When you see her, the changes in your life will dwarf these past few days.
James understood. Their telepathy did not surprise him.
A new light shone. A breeze calmed his soul but fired his imagination. He saw not ten steps ahead—like any good Chancellor—nor one hundred steps. Rather, he viewed thousands of permutations of a future unwinding itself. Secrets and machinations, loves and betrayals, deaths and sacrifices, births and renewals. And in all of it, endless rivers of blood.
Even as he joined the others on the Scramjet and heard the echoes of Sammie still complaining and Michael trying to hold her back; even as he listened to new orders from Perrone and shared the satisfaction of victory with Valentin and Holland; even as he recalled Ignatius’s advice and the horror of the nuked city; James made peace with the dark.
The Risen Gods Page 21
