After Moses: Wormwood

by Michael F Kane

  “Not at all.” Dominic folded his hands together on the table. “You’ll be able to offer crews a second chance at being the good guys. You’ve made quite a stir the last few years. We may find them flocking to your rallying call.”

  Matthew laughed darkly. “They’ll be disappointed to discover that money doesn’t come with the kind of fame I bring.”

  “But fame is enough for some. And for others, the chance to do something new will be even better. The colonies haven’t had much hope since Moses left. Our death sentence was signed. It was always just a matter of how long it would take. Give enough men a chance to be heroes though, a chance to make a difference... Why, we might just be granted a stay of execution, at least for a time.”

  Matthew looked at each of his crew as if for confirmation. Yes, we will follow you down any road, Yvonne thought. We trust you. He seemed to hold Abigail’s gaze for a second longer before she smiled and nodded.

  “Alright,’’ he said. Let’s go somewhere more private and talk. Abigail and Yvonne. Come with us. You’re as big a part of this as I am.”

  Dominic smiled. He was going to get his League of Heroes or whatever they ended up calling it. Matthew had as good as made his decision. Yvonne was hardly surprised.

  PART OF GRACE WANTED to be annoyed that the adults had left her and Davey behind. Then she thought about how boring their conversation was going to be. Probably all talk about money and rules and business.

  Which meant that Matthew was going to be doing whatever Yvonne thought best and Abigail would regret being there. Grace had been around enough conversations on the Sparrow to know how this was going to go.

  She was startled from her train of thought when someone sat beside her at the table.

  “Hello, Grace.”

  It was Nicolas, the member of the royal family closest to her own age. She gave him a blank look.

  “I just came to see if you wanted to—”

  “Do you remember that time at your sister’s birthday that you made fun of my dress?” She narrowed her eyes. “Because I remember.”

  Nicolas’ mouth hung open. “Oh. Right. Maybe later then.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Have a good life.”

  He practically ran away. Grace just smiled smugly.

  “HE’S NOT COME BACK to the ship,” Davey said.

  Abigail frowned at that. “Okay thanks, I’ll find him.” She groaned and put her comm away. She’d tried calling Matthew an hour ago, but he wasn’t answering. He’d either left his comm somewhere, which was unlike him, or was trying to avoid everyone, also unusual. This meant he was in a particularly bad mood. Maybe he was in the gardens.

  It had been a long week. Endless meetings hashing out the details of how the organization would function. Emperor Dominic had been periodically present, but he was a busy man and it was Julia who had really taken over the task from that end. A lot of the groundwork had been laid before they’d arrived, but Matthew and Abigail were needed for their expertise on the way the freelancer business worked. Yvonne of course was brilliant and managed to slide right into place, offering excellent suggestions. And then there were the other advisors Julia had brought in. A pair of lawyers to write up the charter, an accountant to go over the financial plan, and more.

  Abigail was exhausted, but she thought that this thing might just work. Only now, their brave leader had up and disappeared sometime after dinner. A voice in the back of her head insisted that he obviously didn’t want to be found, meaning he wouldn’t be happy to see her. But she was going to ignore that.

  The garden looked empty too. She heard a sound behind her.

  “Good evening, Shield Maiden.” Julia curtsied, her skirts swishing softly at the motion.

  Abigail was annoyed that, of all people, she ran into the one person on Venus that inexplicably rubbed her the wrong way. But then that wasn’t quite true and she knew it. “Good evening, Julia,” she said, doing her best to keep her tone cheerful and polite. Hopefully she didn’t overdo it. “What brings you out to the gardens?”

  Julia raised an eyebrow. “I was looking for our friend Matthew, but he’s made himself scarce. And by your reaction I suspect you were doing the same.”

  “Guilty as charged. He’s not on the ship, not in the dining hall, the conference rooms, the gardens. I’m out of ideas. Know anywhere else quiet he could disappear to?”

  Julia crossed her arms. “There are observation platforms to view the clouds, the library, or perhaps he even left the palace grounds.” Suddenly she snapped her fingers. “Or there’s a small chapel here. Down past the receiving hall. I can’t imagine a better place for a former priest to sequester himself away.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Abigail paused awkwardly for a minute. “Well I guess we can head that way together.”

  “That’s alright. I’ll let you check on him.” Julia smiled softly. “I misjudged you, you know. I had assumed you were just the hired muscle. Turns out you’re a consummate professional. If you hadn’t been here to give advice, things would look quite different.”

  A compliment was the last thing Abigail was expecting. But that meant she had to return it. Blasted social expectations. “I misjudged you too, you know. I assumed you were just eyelashes and a pair of legs.” Julia laughed awkwardly, and Abigail realized she probably didn’t even know that she was a paraplegic. Who knows how she interpreted that one? “What I mean is that this wouldn’t be possible at all without you. Your father may have had the idea—”

  “Stolen from radio dramas.”

  “Right. But you made it happen.” She paused. “Has your father always been like that?”

  “An idealistic dreamer? As long as I can remember. That’s why the last emperor chose him as his successor. I was nine at the time. We had to drop our last name, and dad even changed his first to follow in his predecessor’s footsteps. None of my brothers or sisters really remember his coronation.”

  Abigail wondered if her own father was rotting in prison. Probably. She felt the old familiar tug of guilt but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. “Well, I’m glad he’s the one running Venus. I’ll... uhh, go check on Matthew I guess.”

  Julia curtsied again and left. Abigail watched her for a minute and then turned to reenter the palace. The guards eyed her as she passed but let her be. The Sparrow crew had been given near free run of the grounds, outside of certain high security areas. It also made the place start to feel like home, the way they were treated. She walked through the long halls to the receiving room and then continued past it. Julia said the chapel would be around here somewhere.

  There. An open set of double doors led into a small room filled with pews. A simple stained-glass window adorned the back of the room. It was backlit and cast colored light across the chamber. On the front pew Matthew sat, his hat off, and his head bowed.

  He was praying.

  All at once she felt guilty for searching him out. She was obviously barging in on a private moment. She backed away from the door as slowly as she could, aware that in the quiet chapel the whine of the servo motors in her suit were painfully loud.

  Matthew raised his head. “I hear you back there.”

  “Sorry, I... I’ll leave you be.”

  “It’s fine. Come in.”

  She walked down the aisle to the front bench and sat on the floor beside it. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” she offered weakly.

  “I’m just looking for a bit of peace,” he said. “I never wanted this sort of life. I never asked to be shoved stumbling into the spotlight.”

  “Any luck?”

  He turned to her and frowned. “What?”

  “At finding peace.”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve been at peace since my first year at the Vatican seminary. Since then it’s been one long string of crises. Some day... Some day it will be nice to retire from this life. I’ll miss the travel. But for a little peace of mind I’d happily give it up. And now I’m being asked to
do more.” He exhaled a quiet laugh. “But I have the peace that if this is the path that God sets before me, then it’s the one I should take. At least for a season.”

  Abigail shook her head. “You make it look easy, you know. Faith. Praying. I was raised in a household that believed God existed, but that was about it.”

  “You didn’t practice then?”

  “We certainly weren’t Orthodox.” She sighed. “Look, Matthew. You can do this. We can do this together.”

  He stood to his feet. “I know. I’m just... tired. It’s been a long week.”

  Abigail laughed. “No kidding. I never imagined when I laid you out on the street in Kyoto that someday we’d be out to revolutionize the business. Come on. Get some rest. You’ll need it for the press conference tomorrow.”

  Matthew wilted in his boots. “Don’t remind me.”

  THE NEXT DAY, THE CREW of the Sparrow, dozens of Venusian dignitaries, the entire royal family, and Venus’ entire press corp gathered in the palace’s receiving room. Dominic’s throne had been moved and a podium had been placed on the dais. The room was hectic, chaotic, and, to Davey at least, a completely alien experience.

  “I don’t understand half of what’s going on,” he muttered to Yvonne.

  “Theatrics,” she replied. “Dominic wants to start things off with a bang. What better way to do so than with cameras? By the end of the day half the solar system will be talking about Matthew Cole’s new organization.”

  “But what good is that going to even do?” Grace asked.

  “In theory, it softens the freelancers up to the idea. That way as Matthew and Abigail try to recruit some of them over the next few months, they’re more receptive. If the public has a positive outlook on this little operation, then the freelancers will want in on it. It will be good for business, as a bonus. Let’s go take a seat.”

  The three of them fought their way through the crowds to a spot near the stage and chose a seat among the quickly filling rows. Davey made sure Grace was on the inside and found himself sandwiched between her and a total stranger, a reporter from a Ganymede news outlet if his badge and lanyard were anything to go by.

  Impatient, he looked around the room. The opulence barely even drew his notice after being in the palace for a week. The shining columns of marble, elegant crimson tapestries, and graceful arches were familiar to his eyes. He’d even learned the names of a bunch of the servants and guards. It was weird. He was starting to feel an itch to be back out in the Sparrow. Maybe it was the wanderlust that he’d heard other freelancers talk about. He’d been a little disappointed that Claudia was gone, but then there was always next time. Venus was always going to be a friendly port for the Sparrow.

  Emperor Dominic took the stage and the room quieted almost at once. “My friends! I am thankful that you have all joined us today.”

  Davey noticed he was dressed up in even more elaborate fineries than normal. He tried to imagine a life where you had to deal with that level of overkill on a daily basis. He would hate it, though the money that came with it wouldn’t be bad.

  Dominic began a long speech about the state of the solar system. The decline of humanity. The dire straits they were all in. All in all, it was a gloomy picture.

  “Sheesh, talk about being a downer,” Grace whispered.

  Davey nodded, feeling it was inappropriate to reply when everyone else’s attention was fixed on the emperor.

  “But,” Dominic said. “We are not without hope, not until the last child ceases to draw breath. And I judge that time is far away and may yet never come. Because today, I announce something new. Something to push back the clouds that have gathered around us. Allow me to introduce my partner in this endeavor.” From off stage, Matthew and Abigail appeared and joined him. A murmur rippled through the crowd. The press knew them both by sight after the Ceres Incident. Dominic smiled and continued. “That’s right. You know this man for his actions. For the character of his deeds. He is a hero. A defender of the weak. A strong arm guided by a gentle hand.” He paused for effect. “And now he calls others of like mind to himself. Today we announce the Guild of Lanterns. We shall fill it with the most exceptional of freelancers. They will be a light in the dark, upright men and women who will fight for civilization and against the coming night. We will pit the Lanterns against the cartels, the syndicates, the Abrogationists, and any who raise their hand against the good of their neighbor.”

  The well-behaved crowd lost all sense of propriety as the whole room began talking at once. Davey chuckled. Dominic’s flair for the dramatic came in handy at times like this. He gestured to Matthew. “But I will allow the Gaucho to speak for himself.”

  The room immediately silenced and nearly everyone leaned forward to hear him speak.

  Matthew stepped to the podium and looked out over the audience. He met Davey’s eyes, if only for a moment, and Davey saw the ghost of a smile pass over his features. Davey knew Matthew had been practicing this speech for several days. Hopefully it came out as well as they all hoped.

  “I can’t claim half the praise that the emperor heaps on my shoulders. I’m just one man. A failed priest turned freelancer. It’s been a long road. A hard one. The truth I’ve learned is a simple one. We all have our kingdoms, the things we have influence over. Not all of us can change the tide of history or civilization, but we can see to our own little realm. I never asked to be called a hero or to be given a voice among the great. But that’s the kingdom I’ve been given. And by God’s grace, I’ll uphold that trust.”

  His gaze fell around the room. “To any freelancers out there that are honorable and true, expect to hear from me. And to those that have faltered and taken the easy road? Now is the time to think about who you are. The guild will need many lanterns, even imperfect ones.”

  He moved back from the podium and the room erupted in conversation. Dominic stepped back to the microphone and the noise died down. “At this time we will take a few questions from the press.”

  Every hand in the room shot up and every voice started shouting. Davey saw Matthew’s eyes widen ever so slightly in horror and had to stifle his own smile. This was the part Matthew had been afraid of. Looks like those fears had been justified.

  BY THE END OF THE DAY, over three dozen messages were waiting for Matthew. Yvonne had been keeping an eye on them as they came in, laughing as she read the subject lines. Most of them were from news organizations demanding interviews. A few were from curious freelancers. One message had a particularly strongly worded subject line. It was from Benny, their broker. To be fair, he had a right to be angry given that they had neglected to talk to him about any of this. There was also a message from Bishop Elias. She moved that one to the top of the pile. Matthew would want to read it first.

  There was also one from Whitaker. They hadn’t heard much from him since Ceres. With no leads on the last Anemoi piece, he’d probably gone back to chasing Abrogationists and being the generally manipulative villain that he was. If Yvonne had to guess, he would be pleased over these developments. She moved it to low priority. No need to raise Matthew’s blood pressure any further. He’d been a knot of stress ever since the grilling that afternoon.

  She laid her tablet aside on the bench and looked across the receiving room. The last of the reporters were long since gone, but Matthew and Abigail were still deep in conversation with Dominic and Julia. The kids had wandered off. Probably to the garden. Growing up in underground cities, they were drawn like magnets to live greenery.

  Her tablet chimed and she glanced at the next message. Another freelancer interested in talking to Matthew. She knew this one by reputation and moved them before the reporters on the list. He might want to check this one out.

  She glanced up as the others approached her. “I’ve been playing secretary for you, Matthew. It seems you’ve suddenly become a very popular man. You have forty-three messages to deal with.”

  “That was the intention,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”
r />   She frowned. “We’re leaving right now?”

  “There’s work to do, and time is wasting.”

  Dominic smiled. “For all his protestations, he has thrown himself into the work. I knew this would be a success.”

  “It’s not a success yet,” Matthew cautioned. “We’ve a long way to go before we can say that. Call the kids Yvonne. Have them meet us at the Sparrow.” He turned to Dominic and Julia. “You’ll hear from us soon, and often, as we build the roster.”

  “We’re eager to get started,” Julia said. “I’ll be talking to the Broker’s Alliance later this evening.”

  Abigail grimaced. “Benny isn’t going to be very happy with us,” she said quietly.

  “No, he’s not,” Yvonne said, waving the tablet. She stood to her feet and smoothed her shirt. “Let’s not tarry. I’ve already got freelancers wanting to talk to you and we can go over the list this evening.”

  “We’ll get to those,” Matthew said, holding up his hand. “But I’ve already got my first candidate in mind.”

  “Oh?” Abigail asked. “Do I know this person?”

  “You’ve met.”

  Yvonne crossed her arms. “Has this person shot at us?”

  Matthew grinned and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Chapter 3: Allies and Enemies

  One of the things that most people take for granted is the supply chain that ensures that their daily needs are provided for. The average citizen has a vague notion of the places where food is grown, usually in orbital hydroponics facilities or the occasional surface farm. They know that, unless they are paying a premium, their meat is grown from cultures in labs.

  They even know that the equipment that lets them walk with standard gravity comes from a pair of factories on Mars and Ganymede.

  But the rest? Total ignorance on the part of the public. Most have no idea of the intricate lines of supply that keep daily life in the colonies moving. Maybe it’s better that way. Better not to know you’re only a crisis away from starving or suffocation.