Evolution twc-3

by Kyle West

  Ashton now sat behind his desk, regarding me with sharp blue eyes as I walked forward. The others were already here. I went to stand between Anna and Makara, as Samuel stood to the right side of Ashton’s desk, arms folded. On Ashton’s desk rested a thin computer, and on a corner several binders were neatly stacked. From the Inner Ring’s rotation, I could see the surface of the planet spinning before me.

  “Let’s get started,” Ashton said brusquely.

  Ashton’s accent was hard to pin down. Being born before Ragnarok, his voice carried a hint of southeastern regionalism that was most likely all but gone from the world. My only way of determining his accent was from movies I had seen back in Bunker 108 — which, admittedly, wasn’t a perfect measure.

  “The purpose of this meeting is to give you an update on the situation, and what we’re going to do about it. As it stands, you all will be heading down to Earth tomorrow to resume the next phase of your mission. You will be heading to the Nova Roma Empire to speak with Augustus — make him agree to lay down arms and join us in the fight against Ragnarok. Meanwhile, my job is to monitor your mission from afar while trying to pin down the exact location of the Voice.”

  “Have you figured anything out on that front?” Anna asked.

  “Some,” Ashton said. “Makara and I have taken Odin on a few flybys of Ragnarok Crater, in hopes of securing more accurate measurements. It has helped, and we have pinpointed the origin of the Voice within twenty miles. I need to get a more accurate measure, however. When our assault on the crater begins, you must be able to find the Voice quickly, and destroy it, before you are overwhelmed. I still need more information, and if I do two more flybys of the Crater, I will be able to triangulate the point of origin of the Voice. That’s what I’ll be doing while you are on the surface. I’m confident that with another few months, I’ll know the exact location of the Voice.”

  “Alright,” I said. “What’s our job until then?”

  “There are four major powers now in North America. There is the Nova Roman Empire, by far the strongest, and who should be approached first. There are also the Los Angeles gangs and Vegas gangs, both of which are quite sizeable. Last of all are Bunkers 76 and 88. Neither have responded to my radio calls, but that doesn’t mean they are not there. Both have weapons and supplies that would be invaluable to the attack.”

  “Why Nova Roma first?” I asked.

  “They are the most powerful. If the Emperor Augustus can be convinced to help us, it will make the other Wasteland leaders fall into line.” Ashton paused. “There is also the matter of the war between the Empire and Raider Bluff. That must be stopped before it can even begin. That involves speaking to Augustus, in person.”

  “It just seems like a very difficult thing to do,” I said.

  Ashton looked at me sternly. “Nonetheless, it must be done. Do you think I would send you in there if I didn’t think you were capable of it? If not you, then who else?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that, so I didn’t say anything.

  “It will be difficult,” Samuel said. “But it is absolutely necessary. The Wasteland cannot be caught up in a gigantic war at a time like this. We need to lay down the facts for Augustus before he does anything stupid.”

  “So,” Anna said, “do we just walk into his house, or something? That sounds like a risky maneuver.”

  “Yes, that is the plan,” Ashton said. “Soon, you will know everything. But before I get to the how, it’s useful to give you all a little bit of background.” Ashton looked at me. “The story I have to tell relates to your father, Alex.”

  Now, I was really surprised. What could my father and Cornelius Ashton have in common?

  “You knew my father?”

  Ashton smiled. “I met him, long ago. He was still a boy. Eight, nine years old perhaps.”

  I did that math in my head. My dad had been thirty eight when he died.

  “You met him before Ragnarok, then?”

  Ashton nodded. “I did. There was a summit for all the highest ranking officials of Bunker One, about two weeks before we were put underground. That was where I met your grandfather, Lorin.”

  “Bunker One?” I frowned. “He entered Bunker 108, though.”

  “Yes, that is so,” Ashton said. “But he almost didn’t enter any Bunker at all. His wife, your grandmother, was stuck in Europe at the time, with your father. At the summit, he refused his berth until both your grandmother and father, then a child, could be brought safely home. President Garland refused that request. He and your grandfather were old rivals. Regardless, that was how your grandfather lost his spot in Bunker One. He did, by the way, find a way to get to Europe and rescue your grandmother and father in all that madness. He was able to bring them both back home. Only by that time, the doors of Bunker One had closed. The spots for Lorin and his family had been filled. He was refused entry.”

  I was shocked at this story. Never, in all my life, had my father told it to me. It made me feel a little betrayed, in a way. Why had he wanted to keep it from me?

  “It was likely a very traumatic time in your father’s life,” Ashton said. “He probably witnesses horrors in those last days of the Old World that he never wanted to speak of again. You shouldn’t hold that against him.”

  Of course, that had to be the reason why. Part of me wondered, though…had my dad ever planned on telling me?

  “What happened after my grandfather got back to America?” I asked.

  “With Ragnarok’s impact just days away, Lorin was directed to Bunker 108, in the San Bernardino Mountains. It was the only one that had enough room for three people. He survived a harrowing journey cross country that was likely as dangerous as yours. Those days were awful, and some might say the world ended long before Ragnarok fell. He did end up making it to Bunker 108, somehow, because we received a transmission from him a week following Ragnarok’s impact.”

  “Do you know anything else?”

  “After that, I’m afraid not much. I buried myself in my work. I had my own wife, and two children. All three perished in 2048 with the fall of Bunker One.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It was long ago,” Ashton said.

  The room was quiet for a bit. It occurred to me that Anna, Makara, Samuel, and I all had one thing in common: we had all lost our parents. Such was the case for many people — perhaps most people, in the world. It was all because of Ragnarok, and what it carried.

  “I tried everything I could to rescue my wife and kids, but the dorms were the first hit by the crawlers. I couldn’t have made it even if I had tried.” Ashton paused, as if pained to speak. “They swarmed everything. Everyone was rushing to the runway, to get out however they could. I headed to the motor bay instead. I could only hope my wife and children made it. To this day, I don’t know if they ever got out. They would have touched down in L.A. with the others.”

  “I don’t know, either,” Makara said. “Samuel and I were in two separate birds that took off. If they were among the refugees, they didn’t say. It was so long ago.”

  “I don’t remember anything, either,” Samuel said. “I think three copters got out. One crashed — the one Makara was on. She was the only survivor. The other two formed a community on the east side. If they were among them, I’m afraid the news isn’t good. They were acquired by the Black Reapers years ago.”

  Ashton nodded. “I have lived as if they were gone for the past twelve years. I wasn’t expecting any miracles. No scientist should.”

  Something chilled me about those words. Cornelius Ashton was a cold and distant man, but it seems like he wasn’t always so. After losing everything, all that remained was his life’s work of studying the virus that had destroyed his family.

  I gave Anna a sidelong glance. Her hazel eyes met mine. I looked back at Ashton.

  “I found myself escaping with two others. One was a mechanic named Dustin Cornell, and a pilot named Preston Yates. Cornell has since passed, but we all made it to B
unker Six, not too far north of Bunker One. The Bunker had been evacuated in the face of the coming storm, and was still largely untouched — the crawlers had completely ignored it. We acquired Gilgamesh, not really sure where we were going. But, Yates noticed a destination already programmed into the ship, called Skyhome. I knew the U.S. had created a large space station in the 2020’s as yet another failsafe –a place the President could retreat to if conditions on Earth became absolutely intolerable. But, until I finally saw it when we left the atmosphere, I did not know Skyhome’s true scope. It was massive — so much so that it is a wonder the U.S. could ever hide it. Nothing about it was published during the Dark Decade as far as I know, but during the time of the Dictatorship, the press could only report what the government allowed it to. We all assumed that anything sent to space had something to do with stopping Ragnarok, and that was all we were ever let known. The majority of those missions had to have been for building Skyhome.”

  Ashton frowned, then smiled embarrassedly, as if cognizant of the fact that he was rambling.

  “Forgive me. I came to Skyhome in 2048, and have lived here ever since. When we first came, there was already a community of survivors from Bunker Six, who had used Odin to get here. Not all had fled to Bunker One, but Skyhome’s status was made known only to the highest ranking officials in the U.S. government — the President, some of the highest officers, among others. It was never intended to be lived in like it is now. It was just another backup.”

  “What about our mission?” Anna pressed. “It’s helpful to know our history, and where we came from. But if we leave tomorrow, we must know what to do when we get to the Empire.”

  “Of course,” Ashton said. “But I think it is important to remind ourselves why we fight. If you do not know why you fight, then you cannot go on. I want you all to ask yourselves what you are fighting for. Let the question haunt you, press you onward toward your goal.”

  Ashton paused a moment. He lifted a glass of water, and took a drink. After clearing his throat, he continued.

  “Forgive me, Anna, but it is time for another history lesson. Not one that relates to me, or my past, but to the Emperor Augustus himself. You will want to listen closely, because this information is key if you are ever to get an audience with him.”

  “What is this information?” I asked.

  “It was not only Alex’s father and grandfather I met at the summit in 2030.”

  Chapter 3

  All of us stood in stunned silence at Ashton’s announcement.

  “You’ve met him?” I asked.

  “The Empire did not arise in a vacuum,” Ashton said. “It was controlled by a drug cartel called the Legion in the Dark Decade. It was not called Nova Roma, then. The Emperor did not even call himself Augustus then, or was even an emperor for that matter. He was born Miguel Santos, to impoverished parents, and his life before Ragnarok could fill books. From our conversations at the summit, this is what I learned, or at least what he told me. He turned to business as a youth. By business, I’m sure he meant his drug dealings, for which he was infamous. Because of his daring and cunning, he rose in the ranks in the Legion¸ the gang to which he committed himself. The Legion was one of the most powerful drug cartels in Latin America, and during the Dark Decade, became even more so. Mexico became embroiled in civil war with the resurgence of the drug wars in the 2020’s. In 2024, when Legion leader Osbaldo Banderas died in a gunfight, Miguel Santos, now known as Augustus, stepped in and took charge.”

  “Alright,” I said. “What does an Old World drug cartel have to do with the Empire, or anything for that matter?”

  “He’s getting to that,” Makara said.

  “Santos, a very wealthy man, envisioned a bold new plan — a new country that was separated from the mess that Mexico had become. After hiring thousands of mercenaries, he carved out some territory along Mexico’s western coast — in roughly the same area the Empire resides today, stretching from the old Mexican states of Jalisco to Oaxaca. This area includes Acapulco and other coastal cities. He called this area El Territorio de la Legión — or Legion Territory. Despite the violence of the Dark Decade, Legion Territory, ironically, became the safest place in Mexico. Out of need, the United States recognized its legitimacy.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What need?”

  “Because Miguel Santos became one of the chief financiers of the Bunker Program. That was why he was invited to the summit. He was hoping to secure a spot inside Bunker One.”

  The pieces were starting to come together.

  “So, did he ever get inside?” Makara asked.

  Ashton shook his head. “No. I was, in fact, the one responsible for his not getting in. Because, Alex, he was hoping to take your grandfather’s spot.”

  “What?” I asked. “That’s insane.”

  “When your grandfather refused his berth, he made me promise to do all I could to keep it safe. I complied. While your grandfather was gone, I publicly condemned Santos in front of the entire conference. Though everyone knew his dealings, no one was brave enough to point them out. People who did such things ended up dead. But now, his crimes could not be ignored. President Garland could not give Santos his spot — but he also did not save it for Keener, as much as I tried to convince him to do so.”

  “Who got in, then?” I asked.

  “In accordance with law, the berth was done by lottery. This was where it gets more amazing, because the berth was given to a Khmer couple and their young son.”

  We all looked at each other, amazed. It had to be someone related to both Samuel and Makara.

  “What was the father’s name?” Samuel asked.

  “The father’s name was Pram. The mother, Lakhina. And their son…Samuel.”

  “Alright,” Makara said. “That is beyond belief. Samuel was our dad. How many people were in that lottery?”

  “Millions,” Ashton said.

  “Maybe there is some sort of plan, after all,” Makara said. “Those are my grandparents and my father, as a kid. How is that even possible?”

  “It is an incredible coincidence,” Ashton said. “But a coincidence all the same.”

  “Say what you want,” Makara said. “That is a miracle right there.”

  “Why would you keep this to yourself?” Samuel asked, the shock still on his face. “You must have made the connection as soon as I told you my name and heard my story.”

  “Though a scientist,” Ashton said, with a smile, “I do have a flair for the dramatic. I wanted you all to realize how incredible this opportunity it is — how minuscule the chance that we were all put here, together, and how we should never, for one second, take that for granted.”

  The odds of all of that happening — that my grandfather’s refusal to be put in Bunker One led to Makara and Samuel’s father being saved. It made me feel like there was a plan, that we had been preserved for a reason. Even more, the fact that Santos did not get the berth led to the creation of the Empire itself. So many things, including my very existence, hinged on the single event of my grandfather’s refusal to go into Bunker One while my grandmother and dad were stuck overseas. It made me proud for a moment. Awed, in a way.

  “Let’s get back to Santos,” Ashton said. “He was refused entry to Bunker One, and his public embarrassment made me his enemy.” Ashton smirked. “I didn’t think it mattered at the time. I thought I would never see him again. Santos left the summit, enraged. He declared war on the United States upon returning his villa in Mexico. Not that it mattered, anyway. There was but two weeks left until Ragnarok’s impact. Despite his money and connections, it seemed that Santos was doomed to die like the rest.”

  “Only he didn’t die,” Anna said.

  “No,” Ashton said. “That he did not. Mexico was not as hard hit by Ragnarok as the United States. Mexico is more southerly, making it warmer. There is evidence to suggest that global wind currents keep its southern portions fallout free, though I’ve never visited the Empire, so I cannot confirm thi
s. Satellite imagery shows many settlements are scattered throughout Mexico, their density intensifying in regions that was once controlled by the Legion. Post-Ragnarok, the Legion transformed from gang to government. Santos, a longtime fanatic of Roman history, had the opportunity to incorporate its values and ideals into his own country. He branded himself Emperor Augustus, and renamed his territory Nova Roma — or New Rome. Nova is not a direct translation of new, but the image of a nova — which is by definition, a new star, lends insight into Augustus’s mindset. He sees his Empire as an incarnation of light in the darkness, something that shines brightly in a new world. He created a capital, also called Nova Roma, from the ground up — where he found the labor for such a feat, I do not know, but satellite images show large building projects all throughout the Empire.”

  “They must be using slaves,” Makara said. “Imperials would sometimes come into the Wasteland, from the south. They never attacked us raiders, but when the raiders found people, they often brought them back to Raider Bluff to be sold to the Southerners — which is what we called the Imperials. We never knew where they went — but they paid in batts, and that was all that mattered.”

  Ashton nodded. “I don’t know what awaits you all in the Empire. Even though the Blights have yet to infect it, it is still a very dangerous place. After all, Augustus is a dangerous man.”

  “He wants to acquire Raider Bluff,” Samuel said. “That much was made clear by his emissary, Rex, who spoke to Char while we were there. They are officially at war with Bluff, and if it isn’t already, the Empire will be sending an army there soon.”

  “That must be stopped,” Ashton said. “Augustus cannot be allowed to conquer Raider Bluff, or any other city in the Wasteland, for that matter. This is a critical time in which all people must band together against the Xenos, even former enemies.”