After Moses: Wormwood

by Michael F Kane

  “Since we’ve left the city, I imagine we’re almost there,” she said, attempting to engage the driver. “There’s not anywhere else to go in Kyoto.”

  He glanced at her in the mirror and then looked back at the road.

  She turned to stare out the window at the passing Martian scenery of red rock and scrubby plant life. It looked the same pretty much anywhere, at least to her eye. She’d always heard that Earth’s geologic and biological diversity was such that every place looked different. Pictures existed, of course, but that wasn’t the same thing. Earth was a paradise from an alternate reality as far as the colonies were concerned.

  The grav car turned down a sideroad. No, it was a driveway up to a manor of some sort. The driver parked and walked around to open her door. “Thanks,” she muttered. She wrapped her calf-length coat tighter around herself.

  “This way,” the driver said, the first words he’d spoken in the hour she’d been with him. She followed him through a side garden to a rather well-groomed sitting area beneath a pergola. An aging Japanese man stood to greet her. Did they shake hands in Kyoto? She’d never spent much time out of the Southern Highlands. No, they probably bowed, but she wasn’t about to stumble over cultural norms to which she wasn’t privy. Instead, she inclined her head respectfully.

  The man smiled and returned the gesture perfectly. “Ms. Drugova. I trust the trip here was pleasant?”

  “Enough. I’ll admit I’m surprised you arranged the seat for me. These days, it’s not easy to get into Kyoto, or out of Rossiya for that matter.”

  “There are those of us on both sides that wish to see friendly discourse continue. It’s just a matter of knowing who you must speak with.”

  So the colonial governments still talked, even when they were at each other’s throats. Or else members on both sides were breaking the law. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking?”

  “Retired Commissioner-General Yuuto Kagurazaka. Please. Have a seat.”

  She sat in the indicated chair. “How can I be of service, Mr. Kagurazaka?” He passed her a tablet. Her eyes scanned down the document. Surveillance of an Arizonan government agent. This was going to potentially make enemies if things went south. “I trust there’s a reason you’re hiring a freelancer rather than using Kyotan Intelligence assets for this job.”

  He smiled. “You give the Kyotan government deniability if you’re caught. As do I since I am happily retired.”

  An older woman approached with a tray and set tea out for them both. From the warm smile Kagurazaka gave her, she was clearly his wife. Milena politely took a cup of tea and thanked her. She sipped at it and then set it on the table. “And it doesn’t concern you that I’m a citizen of a Highland Treaty Organization member colony?”

  Kagurazaka shook his head. “You were hired not only for your skill set but also for your associations. Ms. Abigail Sharon is a trusted friend, and I have a good deal of hope for this Guild of Lanterns that Matthew Cole has put together.”

  “I see.” The guild had already landed her a job then. Her rather specific niche sometimes meant weeks in between work. She’d barely finished the Yurchenko job when this one came through. The guild would indeed be good for business after all. “Why is the government of Kyoto interested in agent Stein,” she asked, “besides the occupation of Kyoto? I don’t mind dipping my toes into political waters, Mr. Kagurazaka, but I’m not sure the guild’s purpose is to pick sides in intercolonial disputes.”

  “Then it should ease your conscience to know that the agent in question is hardly an upstanding character. There has been more than one... incident with which he is suspected to have been the cause. The assassination of Prime Minister Rinne, for one.”

  That had been a big deal. Rinne had been the chief opponent to the Finns joining the Highland Treaty Organization. After his death, the colony had quickly capitulated to Russian pressure. It had gone without saying that it was a politically motivated crime, but it had been done so carefully that it had been impossible to peg the responsible actor. Apparently, in knowledgeable circles the perpetrator wasn’t quite so mysterious.

  “I see,” Milena said. She looked at the tablet again, scanning more of the details. “You want to know who he is associated with.”

  “Intelligence thinks there may be crooked ties.”

  “Any hints as to who that would be?”

  Mr. Kagurazaka only smiled politely. “All of them. Mr. Stein is well connected with the undesirable elements in the solar system.”

  Milena grimaced. Given her intelligence background, she knew the type well. Or rather knew of the type. Give some people information and a modicum of authority, and no leash is short enough to keep them on your side. Vipers. She imagined that in coarser circumstances, they were the type that became serial killers.

  “I’ll get what you need.”

  “Excellent. Keep your distance. I don’t expect he would give you quarter should he become aware of your surveillance. And, Ms. Drugova, I’m a retired police officer, and have no stomach for spy games. I bring the guilty to justice through the law, not knives in the dark. I’m not interested in a body, yours or his.”

  “You’ll find no complaints here,” she said. “I’m a surveillance specialist, not an assassin.” She finished her tea and stood to her feet. “How soon can you get me back into Arizona?”

  “Before the sun rises tomorrow.”

  IN THE MONTH THAT THEY’D been gone from Ganymede, Davey had nearly been driven insane at least six dozen times by Abigail and Yvonne. That is, until he came to the firm conclusion that, for once, it wasn’t Abigail’s fault. No matter how he wracked his brain, he couldn’t get his head around what Yvonne’s problem was. It was either stony silence or sharp jabs these days, and it didn’t take him long before he was either avoiding the cockpit or actually seeking out Abigail when he was bored.

  At least he was getting a lot of reading done. He’d worked his way through the Iliad, slowly at first, but with increasing confidence as he went on. Daily messages to and from Elizabeth had helped explain which characters were related, what a particular god reigned over, or the significance of some obscure Earth reference. He knew he was missing a lot of the complexity, but he understood the gist of the war and who the main characters were. And what a pointless conflict it was. Sure, on the surface it was over a stolen wife, Helen, but in truth, it seemed like just a play for the gods of Greece to meddle in the affairs of men.

  That most wars appeared as such to the average citizen didn’t escape him. He’d been closely following the news from Mars with new eyes. While the colony of Kyoto seemed to be steadfastly enduring the occupation, it was obvious that public sentiment across the red planet wasn’t too keen on the conflict. Maybe they could dimly see the importance of that factory, but that the gods would threaten war over it was beyond what they could swallow.

  After reading through the news, he pulled up the pictures he had taken in Warszawa, particularly the ones where the Arizonan agent, Damon Stein, as Whitaker had identified him, were clearly visible. He hated that he had sat on the pictures. Something rotten was happening on Mars, or had happened, to speed up the construction of the Phobos Platform. He had the proof, and they were going to get away with it. Abigail and Matthew had decided that handing the photos over to the press would most likely further destabilize Mars’ fragile political situation.

  They were probably right. But it felt like lying.

  He felt the rumble of the engines through the deck. They had a job between crew recruitments, and this time it was a real job. One of the Theban colonies had hired Abigail and him to take down a local drug lord. Given the scale of the operation, she promised it would be done in under a week. He tossed aside his tablet and checked through his pack one more time before throwing it over his shoulder and opening the door to his cabin.

  He turned toward the cockpit, but seeing the excuse that Abigail’s door was open, he happily diverted. Yvonne was just going to be a grouch anyway.


  “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  She was rummaging through her piles of equipment and found the case she was looking for. “Almost, just need to grab a few more things.”

  Too late, he recognized the case. Her trackers. “Oh. Hey. About those...”

  She opened the case and stiffened when she saw that nearly half of them were missing. “What in... Where did...” Her eyes narrowed and then rose to meet Davey’s. “What do you know about this?” she demanded.

  Of course Grace wasn’t here to take the heat. Maybe he’d rather hang out with Yvonne after all.

  WHEN TWO MONTHS HAD passed, the Vatican doctors finally allowed Matthew out of their sight. He’d long graduated from the hospital room to the suite with Elizabeth and Grace, but bi-weekly checkups, as well as rehabilitation in the afternoons, had kept them from leaving the Vatican entirely. Now that that was over, they made him promise not to leave Ganymede for at least another month.

  When the shuttle crossed the short distance across Ganymede’s frozen plains and landed at Antioch, Grace was the first person to bound off. As usual, Bishop Elias and her grandfather, Arthur Morgensen, were there with the ground cart, though she also noticed a contingent of Swiss Guard. The Vatican had recently decided it best to keep the fledgling colony well-defended, considering its founder had recently suffered an assassination attempt. There was no telling what they might do to get to Matthew.

  She wrapped her arms around her grandfather. “You haven’t been worrying, have you?”

  “I’ve missed you,” he said. “And of course I have.”

  “Oh, we’re fine,” she said, turning to watch as Elizabeth and Matthew came down the ramp. “Well... He is now, anyway.”

  “He’ll finish his recovery swiftly,” Elias said, “He’s still young.”

  Grace had thoughts about Matthew’s age that she kept to herself. They would be pretty rude in front of two people much older than he was, even if they were true.

  Elias set aside his cane and wrapped Matthew in a hug. “I have never prayed harder, nor thanked God for answering those prayers as much as in the last months,” he said. Grace looked away, feeling like she was intruding. But it didn’t stop her from overhearing.

  “And for that I’m grateful,” Matthew said voice low. “I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so lost.”

  Grace didn’t catch the reply, but it struck her that the bishop was to Matthew what he was to the rest of the crew. It never occurred to her that even Matthew needed backup.

  After the greetings were finished, they loaded their luggage into the ground car and set off down the road between the fields toward the colony. “So how have things been lately?” Grace asked her grandfather, mostly to pass the time. She heard from him regularly and wasn’t lacking in news of his personal life.

  “Oh, mostly the same. Antioch is an ambitious operation, and there have been lots of ways I’ve been able to improve both function and efficiency.”

  Grace kept only half an ear on what he said. Her grandfather was really a nerd when it came to numbers, and she was glad he was putting it to good use. But that didn’t mean it was stimulating conversation talking about the price of grain, constructing housing for new residents, or negotiating with businesses that wanted into the colony. The colony itself grew by several dozen buildings every time they visited. The streets were laid out to make room for that expansion, and Grace suspected a day would come that she wouldn’t even recognize the place. Even now they passed a new row of freshly built houses that looked empty. She wondered where Candace and Benny lived.

  They pulled up in front of the town square. Dinner was being provided in the community center so they could catch up with old friends, some from Villa María and some they’d made since then. Grace mostly wanted to see the old gang from Ceres. Especially—

  Her grandfather put a hand on her shoulder. “Grace, I should probably warn you about something before you find out the hard way.”

  “Oh, what’s that?”

  “It’s about Jason.”

  She fought back the sudden flush. Why did everyone have to give her a hard time about him? “I don’t really know what you’re—”

  The front door of the community center opened, and most of the kids from Ceres piled out, crowding around her and Matthew. She spied Jason at the back.

  He was holding hands with Eva.

  Oh.

  She plastered a fake smile on her face and pretended like nothing was wrong. Because nothing was wrong, besides the silent whimper threatening to make her heart stop. Mishka wrapped herself around Grace, and Raj gave her a friendly wave.

  “Why are you crying?” Mishka asked.

  Grace wiped the rogue tear away. “I’m just so glad to see you guys,” she lied with a smile.

  “HEY! IT’S STARTING,” Davey shouted from the common room.

  Yvonne let out a long sigh and closed down the monitor. She wasn’t sure that she was looking forward to this. If he’d been around, she would have told Matthew this was a terrible idea. Frankly, she was surprised that he didn’t think it was a terrible idea. The sedentary lifestyle must have driven him to boredom.

  She walked down the hall to the common room. Abigail and Davey were both already huddled around the radio. He looked her way and smiled, but Abigail didn’t look up. Yvonne ignored the quiet sting in her heart. She’d toughed it out for the first couple of months, but the long quiet days aboard the Sparrow were starting to get to her.

  The radio was already on, and Davey turned up the volume.

  “This is the Colonial News Bureau broadcasting out of Titan. Thank you for joining us tonight for Faces of Humanity. I’m your host, Glenn Sherrin. This week I sat down with our most requested guest. You’ve asked and we made it happen. Allow me to introduce you to Freelancer Matthew Cole.”

  “I can’t believe he agreed to this,” Abigail muttered.” Yvonne could only nod gravely.

  “How are you doing tonight, Mr. Cole?”

  “I’m good, thank you, Mr. Sherrin.”

  “Please, call me Glenn.”

  “Then Matthew will do as well.”

  “Now Matthew, we’re all aware that you’re the leader of the newly founded Guild of Lanterns, and I want to talk about how that’s going this evening, but first I must ask after your health. You’ve recently been recovering from an injury, have you not?”

  “An occupational hazard, I’m afraid. It’s hard to be a freelancer and not make a few enemies.”

  “Maybe you can tell us about some of those. The Vatican put out a press release about the incident, and they’re calling it the ‘Miracle Voyage of the Sparrow.’ It’s an amazing tale and I’d like to encourage our audience to read it. Is there anything you’d like to say about that, Matthew?”

  “My crew went above and beyond to save my life. I owe each of them many times over, but that’s what crews do. We’re a family. Closer than that sometimes.”

  “Awww...” Abigail said. “He’s talking about us.” Her face fell. “I hope he doesn’t say anything embarrassing.

  “So tell me more about these crew members. Let’s start with the Shield Maiden of Mars.”

  Abigail’s face froze in panic, and Yvonne couldn’t help but chuckle. Thankfully, Matthew kept the personal details to a minimum. That didn’t stop him from making jokes however, but even so, they each came off as the best version of themselves. In her case it was a lie. The noble doctor simply didn’t exist.

  The interview meandered through a range of topics over its half-hour duration, and overall, she had to admit that he did well. He spoke candidly about his past as a priest, Villa María, Antioch, Ceres, and the Guild. When the broadcast neared its end, the host threw a final curveball question.

  “Seeing as you’re a fellow Martian like myself, I have to ask your opinion on the current situation with the Highland Treaty Organization’s occupation of Kyoto.”

  “And here it comes,” Yvonne said. “A question that’s liable to get hi
m in trouble.”

  “I’ll admit I’m rather loath to get into politics. It’s not my area of expertise. But I do think it’s dangerous to let ourselves get swept into regional conflicts at a time like this. There’s a dangerous ideology out there right now. Human Abrogation is an aberrant morality. Rather than trying to make the universe a better place for future generations, it tries to undermine them. We who believe in civilization must utterly reject it, or we will destroy each other. Fighting amongst ourselves distracts from the real threat.”

  “Then I’ll take it you’re not a fan of the Phobos Platform that came online this week.”

  “You could say that, but then that would be an understatement. The Phobos Platform has taken a once familiar sight in the Martian sky and turned it into a threat. I grew up seeing Phobos passing overhead twice a day. Now, future generations will fear it. But I’m afraid what’s done is done. President Barclay and the other leaders of the HiTO now have a terrible responsibility upon their souls. I had a friend relay a message to him, and I’ll repeat it again here in the hopes that he hears this broadcast. Make sure that moon is well defended.”

  “I’m sure he’ll get the message loud and clear. Mr. Cole. Thank you again for taking the time to sit down with us.”

  “Thank you for coming all the way from Titan. It was a pleasure.”

  “And with that, we conclude this week’s Faces of Humanity. I’d like to thank the cast and crew that made this possible including—”

  Davey flipped off the radio. “Huh. That wasn’t terrible.”

  “I won’t have to sit on him when we get back to Antioch,” Abigail said, shrugging.