Son of Sedonia

by Ben Chaney

“Uh oh! Careful that the cameras don’t see you. You’re supposed to be sad!” Jada added, hysterical. Sato doubled over, breathless. His face hurt by the time it died down. They both sat back and sighed. After the calm settled over them again, Sato laced his fingers in hers.

  “Seriously, though,” he said, looking directly into her emerald eyes. She had blushed from laughing, but now the color seemed to deepen. Brushing her graying hair aside, she nodded slowly. Smiled.

  “Yeah...okay. Let’s talk more about that,” Jada said. Sato smiled back, but a sudden pulse in his ear warned of an incoming call. He raised a hand to dismiss it when the heads-up message appeared. ‘Andreas Calling,’ it read. Sato darkened. Stood.

  “I have to take this. Are you gonna be—”

  “I’m fine,” Jada said, smiling, “I think I’ll stay here a little while. Go be the Governor.”

  Sato leaned in, planted a kiss on her, then turned away. He tapped ‘Answer’ and kept his voice hushed as he trotted to the main path.

  “Andreas...? Where’s Kabbard? What’s your situation?”

  “That’s just it, sir. The situation has...escalated. I gave my recommendation to Mr. Kabbard that we call you for a sit-rep, but he refused.”

  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘escalated’?!” Sato hissed.

  “The POI evaded capture, but we’re in pursuit and closing fast.”

  “Well what kind of pursuit are we talking about here?” Sato spoke through his teeth, “A foot chase there on Themis? Because you don’t sound winded, Andy.”

  “No sir...we’re...two hours from Earth orbit. Nicks and Mr. Kabbard are in the other Fury, and I’m following. The target stole the Zeus.” Andreas’ tone had changed rapidly from lap-dog into a sheep. Sato felt himself start to lose it as the spineless climber continued.

  “There was a situation at the prison that Mr. Kabbard ordered us to investigate, a riot or disturbance of some kind near the prison sic-bay. The target got away in that time.”

  “Put me on with Kabbard. Right now,” Sato said. Andreas started the connection as the Governor stepped into a wide tunnel along the park path. He pressed himself against the wall and waited as the ringtone pulsed once. Twice. Three times.

  “Sir,” Kabbard finally answered. Bastard. He knows he’s in for an ass-chewing and he’s still playing the Cop. It put Sato off-balance as he pressed his throat mic.

  “John. I just got some shit news from Andreas that I should have gotten from you. Explain.”

  “Focused on the job, Mr. Sato. We’ll have the package in hand for you shortly.”

  Always to the point. Sato had never known John Kabbard to make a mistake. Sounded like the man took it personally. And if John took it personally... May God have mercy on anyone who gets in his way. Though there was no reason not to poke the bear.

  “Glad to hear it! But please be aware, John, we cannot afford any more mistakes on your end. In the future, I do expect to be kept informed of any developments by you. Not one of your subordinates.”

  “Understood,” Kabbard said.

  “Good,” Sato said. Paused. “The boy...he was a match?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Ah...” Sato’s mind swam with the implication. Alan’s son. His flesh and blood. Sato braced himself on the cold concrete wall. Shook his head as if it would clear the descending fog. “...and this ‘disturbance’ on Themis...anything I should be worried about?” he asked. Silence followed the question. Sato felt the hope for a casual ‘No, sir, it’s all okay’ crumble.

  “That’s—Warden Drummond assured me that everything’s under control.”

  “And do you believe him?”

  “Lost comms with ‘em two hours ago. Could be nothing, but I suggest you get your friends on the horn and send whatever you can up there ASAP,” said Kabbard.

  Sato pinched his eyes shut and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

  “Thank you. John,” Sato said, “I expect good news the next time you call.”

  “Yes, sir. Kabbard out,” he hung up.

  Sato felt more dismissed than reassured, but it was Kabbard or no one. He groped through his mind for comfort, trying to recall the finer points of the former Sergeant’s extensive resumé and character references. Twenty years in the EXOs. Fourteen of those in a command role. Decorated veteran of the Summer Siege, Falari Market Standoff, and the Doco Uprising. Wounded twelve times in the line of duty...he’ll get it done. Turning to leave his alcove, ‘Incoming Call: PRG’ appeared in front of him. God dammit.

  “Hello Enota,” Janice Prescott’s dried wrinkles creased the edges of her smile.

  “Janice! Speak of the devil, I was just about to call you...”

  “Yes, we know. Mr. Kabbard’s appraisal of the developing situation on Themis is understandable, if a touch dramatic. We are looking into it and will make a judgment soon,” said Janice. Sato felt the imagined fingers around his throat loosen. He breathed a sigh.

  “But the Moon isn’t what concerns us, Enota. The Rindal boy, and your failure to apprehend him, is,” Janice said as her thin lips flattened. The spectral fingers tightened again on Sato’s neck. Thankfully, the Neural augments that had served him so well in public debate did their job. Minimize.

  “A momentary setback. The boy’s chip may have been disabled, but the Zeus has an integrated tracking system. Wherever he goes, John Kabbard will find him.”

  “You’re sure of this? The man has an impeccable record, yes, but we understand that he’s not as sympathetic to our aims as you are, Enota. Let us know if we can provide assistance in resolving this issue,” said Prescott. Sato kept his face frozen still. And prove me totally incompetent to the Board. Obsolete. The Raid debacle had no doubt already hurt his standing. This would push it over a cliff.

  “John Kabbard is driven, loyal, and now very, very pissed off. He’ll get it done. Sending company assets would complicate things, risking a bigger splash than we can afford.”

  “We agree…for now. The impact of the boy’s exposure to the public is an unknown quantity that we do not want to risk. Even if he remembers nothing about his father, his name alone could cause significant, untimely waves. A dangerous possibility for all concerned, we think you’ll agree,” Prescott leaned back in her chair. Sato brooded over the phrase. ‘All concerned.’ The conspiracy theorists had calmed down with their Rindal ideas over the years, and it had taken that long for Sato’s damage control to do its work. If Aden shows up alive? With even a shred of proof? It could make Alan a martyr, validating everything that the man had said to the press. Ruinous.

  “We expect good news the next time we call,” said Prescott.

  The feed cut out, leaving Sato alone in the shadowed tunnel. ‘Call Ended. Memory Block 081080_1210p: Deleted.’ He patted himself down, searching for his flask. Winced when he realized Jada had made him leave it at home.

  “Enota?” Jada’s voice called down the tunnel. He must have looked like death because she withered at the sight of his face. I don’t deserve you. The thought occurred to him out of the fog as she embraced him

  “Let’s go home,” she said, rubbing his back, “I’ll help draft a statement saying I got sick, and you took me back to the house.”

  “You go,” said Sato, “I’ll be fine...just have to go make another appearance at the ceremony then take care of some things at the office. I’d feel better knowing you’re home safe.”

  “Okay, but later you’re telling me what’s going on. I’m your wife, not your constituency.”

  He kissed her.

  “I promise,” Sato said. He’d think of a suitable lie before then. One small addition to the list of reasons to hate himself.

  28

  Dreams

  “14,400 KILOMETERS TO Earth orbit. Please input destination.” The voice from the console scared the hell out of Matteo, lifting him up out of his seat. His head hit the bubble canopy. He had closed his eyes for only a moment, overwhelmed by the ocean of stars surrounding him. The chance his body w
as looking for to power down for a while. His muscles ached as he rubbed the rising knot on his scalp, and squinted at the display projected in the canopy glass. The message awaited with a blinking cursor. A keyboard panel of black glass ppeared on the dash. He cracked his knuckles and dug through his memory for a name. Any name. Only one came to mind.

  “R-A-S-A-L-,” he stopped typing as the matches flew out on screen with names, descriptions, distances, and looping video footage of spots throughout the Rasalla District. Falari Market, Temple of the Wheel, Ninetown, Stepstones, Pits. Home. He reached for the screen. Stopped. He knew it would be safer. Knew that he could just disappear and forget about the Moon, Kabbard...and Jo. He’d ditch the Zeus in the Pits, hike to Utu’s, and sleep for a week. And then...what?

  The rush of a new idea crept up his back. His heart thrummed in his chest. No...it’s stupid...it’s so stupid. The thoughts snapped under the weight of the idea. Matteo held down the delete key. The rust-colored images of Rasalla disappeared. His outstretched finger hunted for new letters.

  “S-E-D-O-,” hundreds of matches filled the screen, all of them with the same heading. Sedonia City. They waited for him. Mesa Park, Sedonia Civic Arena, The Plateau Convention Center, and...

  The Kuwahara Commons! Nerve center of the Inner Ring. You could buy anything there. Food, clothes, medicine, cars, drinks, and any kind of entertainment you wanted. Some of his favorite buildings in the skyline were rooted in the Commons. The Hotel Equinox with its gigantic, tilted glass dome glistening in the afternoon sun. DAGA Technical College pouring legions of students from its gentle high arch into the surrounding plaza. And Seraphim Station. One of the four main superway hubs in the City, connecting the Outer, Inner, and Center Rings with a webbed network of rails.

  Enough people around to keep hidden, and the rest of the City’s just a train-ride away.

  He tapped the button. The Zeus puffed its attitude jets and changed course in a tilting zero-G roll. Matteo went cross-eyed for a second, watching the Earth flip underneath him. A 3D projection in the canopy drew a glowing path over the curve of the planet. The Zeus locked into it. Fired thrusters. In seconds, the smooth ride became a shaky one. And as the star-filled black gave way to blue, long fingers of flame started to lap at the nose and canopy. Everything outside disappeared behind a shroud of red heat.

  His body slicked with sweat beneath the Themis jumpsuit as he gripped the flight sticks and focused on the brightened bubble display. Barely readable in the chaos. And on top of it all, the wheezing. He hadn’t noticed it start. Each breath heaved from his chest as though he were pinned under a concrete slab. He took each dry gasp slower than the last. It smoothed as the fire vanished and the shaking stopped, replaced by the high-pitch drone of the engines. Deep blue sky.

  He’d passed through hell and into heaven. Soaring over violet clouds in a sunset sea. Like a bird. He licked his lips and hit the icon on screen marked “Manual”. The Zeus lurched. He tilted the flight stick to the left and the ship rocked hard, shoving him against the side of the cockpit. He corrected quickly and laughed like a lunatic, triggering a few more throaty coughs. A completely different game than flying in zero-G. Throat cleared, he took a deep breath. Pushed the stick hard to the right.

  “OOOHHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIIIT—HAHAHAHAHAAA!”

  The force buried him in the seat, pulling his skin tight over his lanky frame. He almost lost his grip on the controls. Absolute terror and pure joy exploded in his brain. The Zeus dipped and banked with the slightest bit of steering. Matteo punched through pink and orange cloud towers hundreds of miles high. Strafed through the cotton rifts and valleys. Spiraled down until he thought he’d blackout, then pulled up, accelerating out in a huge arc.

  “Recalculating,” said a digital woman’s voice. He finally noticed the blinking message on-screen. Hesitated, sighed, then tapped “Resume Auto”. It was over too soon, though forever wouldn’t have been enough. The Zeus locked into the descent and hit the throttle. Matteo looked up through the canopy, said a final goodbye, then plunged into gray. Clouds enveloped the Zeus. Something else wrapped tight around his insides.

  “Here we go,” he said in a breath. Water drops streaked over the glass as he peered into the darkening yellow fog. Moments passed. A multicolored glimpse appeared ahead of him before falling back in the polluted shroud. Too quick to see anything. Then all at once it was all there. Sedonia City. The skyline gathered low near the edges by the Border, then swept up in the center like a crystal mountain. All shining in the copper glow of the setting sun. The rush washed over him like an electrified current from his temples down to his toes. Tears welled up in his eyes.

  “Entering Sedonia airspace. Reducing speed to 50 kph and descending to Traffic Altitude: Beta,” the message appeared on screen. I...um...ok... The flight sticks turned by themselves and set a course for a flowing line of headlights below. The Zeus dipped for the queue of cars, found a space, and drifted gently in. Matteo, wide-eyed, puffed a lung-full of relief.

  He noticed that his cruising speed was actually damn fast. The Slums appeared beneath him, and rushed by like a giant ant colony. He watched the garbage scows drop their payloads into the Pits. Saw the first lights of Ninetown nightlife. Then millions of little smoke columns all over the rusty jagged landscape. Some cook-fires. Some still smoldering from the raid. He soared above and apart from it all. Goosebumps washed across his skin as he passed over the Border.

  The Outer Ring passed underneath, wider than he’d ever thought it would be. Miles of short factory buildings, shipyards, and freighter ports stretched on for miles. He could make out tiny ground vehicles as they drove along the circuit-like access roads.

  Past the dirty foothill apartments and offices of the Outer Ring edge, the Zeus flew deeper. Buildings took on the familiar angles and beautiful curves he’d studied on faded pages. They lived and breathed in front of him. He could see swarms of people gathering on skywalks, hanging plazas, and balcony tiers. Vehicles dropped from the queue and joined criss-crossing lanes of traffic through the structures. Matteo’s hungry eyes darted everywhere, filling his chest with what felt like white light.

  “Arriving at: Kuwahara Commons.” The Zeus dipped down for one of the radial parking pads on the edge of the main plaza. Hovered to a gentle stop. Matteo engaged the landing gear, killed the engine, and tore at the harness buckles. As he popped the release, the canopy slid back. He climbed out on wobbling, half-asleep legs and stepped down the ladder onto the pavement.

  Matteo took one last look at the Zeus. Sighed, then turned. He walked briskly toward the plaza steps at the end of the pad. Others around him, dressed in tight-fitting patterns of bizarre clothes, shot glances his way. The bright orange jumpsuit probably got their attention. He unzipped his collar and spread it out, covering the Themis insignia on his chest. Then he ripped at the shoulder seams, tearing off both long sleeves. Whether or not it worked, at least it was more comfortable. He shoved his hands in the pockets, tucked his chin, and walked into the Plaza.

  “…for that, Governor Sato, we do hold you accountable!” a loud female voice barked through a megaphone on a raised platform. A crowd of people gathered around her, shouting and waving signs. Matteo squinted to read them. ‘21 EXOs Dead! For what?’ ‘No blood for Corporate Profits!’ ‘Governor Sato: Killer of Children’ This didn’t make any sense. People from the City didn’t get angry about things in the Slums. Do they? Why? He took five steps toward them, then heard heavy engines behind him.

  The two Fury Class ships from the Themis hangar descended to the parking pad beside the Zeus. Landed in front of it with their wing guns spooled up. People on the pad scattered, then went about their business like nothing had happened. One of the Fury hatches opened. Kabbard stepped out. Matteo whirled away and pushed past a group of gawking onlookers and into the Plaza.

  In the middle of another backward glance, Matteo almost bumped into someone. A skinny, shaggy haired guy had stepped in his path. Handed Matteo a piece of bright
red paper.

  “Join the Future. Empower yourself,” was all the young man said before turning with a flip of his shiny scarf. Matteo looked at the paper as he sped on through the Plaza. Big, bold letters at the top said: ‘Utopia is an Illusion.’ Matteo swept a glance over the surrounding skyscrapers. Looks real enough to me. A commotion of angry shouts picked up behind him. The three black-suited forms of Kabbard and his men stormed into the crowd, sifting through the angry protestors. A thicket of screaming bodies and swinging signs blocked them.

  Matteo ran, sprinting through ramps, stairwells, and clustered kiosks. He almost tripped through a mound of trash in the street. Leaped to one side. Two concrete tiers above, a massive block of escalators led up to a skywalk. He jumped, kicked off a wall, and lunged through the air. Grabbed curved railing at the top and pulled himself up. A homeless man, dressed in rags and lying on a cardboard sheet, lunged at him. Matteo rolled away and stood up, shocked at the face that could have been pulled straight out of a Falari Market gutter.

  He ran to the base of an escalator, got on, and wove as far as he could through the crush of sweet-smelling citizens. All around him, people made strange hand and finger gestures in the air. Swiping, twisting, pinching, tapping. Most talked to themselves. Few to each other. Sure that he was being ignored, Matteo caught his breath and looked back down into the shrinking Plaza. Kabbard and his guys had stopped by a kiosk. One of them, Matteo couldn’t tell who, kicked the pile of trash.

  Matteo hung his head and took a deep breath in the belly. Exhaled.

  29

  Welcome

  THROUGH HIS PORTHOLE window, Jogun watched the flashlights, torch-flames, and lanterns of Pit workers gather like a swarm of fireflies on the barren plain. Most had probably been on their way back home for the day when they saw the landing fleet of Themis ships and came running. Even exhausted from sixteen hours of work, a payday this big would be hard for any Cutter to pass up. More waste to be cut, carted away, and sold off to the City Seedmaster, maybe buying an extra day’s rice. Seeing them made his chest flutter.