Son of Sedonia

by Ben Chaney

  Streaks of gunfire waived through the smoke in sweeping curves. Thousands of muzzle flashes crept along the ground in front of four smoldering gaps in the Border. Fresh explosions popped off throughout the Outer Ring. Flames licked up toward the van. Then, from the ashen plumes emerged ships. A fleet of them...all shapes and sizes. Matteo recognized names spray-painted on their hulls in giant red letters.

  ‘Falari.’

  ‘Alati.’

  ‘Temple.’

  ‘Rasalla.’

  ‘Jogun.’

  ‘Matteo.’

  38

  Calling

  10 minutes earlier

  THE TRAIL WENT cold at the apartment. Without the kid’s RFID signal, it was a miracle they’d even tracked them this far. Especially true given the state of the nightclub manager’s staff records and his ‘not without a court order’ attitude toward sharing them with a ‘Fed.’ It had taken till morning to wake up a judge to sign off on it.

  The background check on the girl was another kick in Kabbard’s nuts. Liani Ray. Ex-reporter for Globometro. The possibility of fulfilling his quick and quiet mandate was getting more screwed by the minute. He surveyed the craphole one-bedroom studio with exhausted eyes. Coffee left to cool in the pot. Tousled sheets and laundry scattered around the floor. Dishes crusted with red-orange food matter and glasses with cheap pink wine dried to the bottom. Amazing that a woman lives here. The thought made him feel old. Older.

  Andreas crouched next to a sticky blue puddle on the carpet, gathering a sample with a metal pipette. The attached machine beeped.

  “Got a match,” Andreas said. More great news. Here and gone again. Kabbard was beyond tired. Like a reanimated corpse begging to go back to the void. Chasing some kid all over the City...for what? So Sato could suddenly grow a conscience? An old, familiar thought floated back to the surface. ‘None of it means a damn thing.’ Six years down the drain.

  “Any ideas about the third guy?” Kabbard asked as Nicks came out of the bedroom.

  “Third guy?” Nicks asked. Kabbard wondered if these two clowns had any kind of conventional training whatsoever. Beyond online searches or friend posts on Neu.

  “Ms. Ray does not own a vehicle, correct?”

  “According to her file, no she doesn’t,” answered Andreas, “Meaning she either took the Superway home or someone gave her a ride. Had she scanned her RFID on the superway, we would have picked up the trace, so there has to be at least a third accomplice. If not more.”

  Smart ass.

  “Contact Globometro,” Kabbard said, “See if anyone quit or was fired the same time as her termination. Kirnden’s a lap dog, he’ll be more than happy to help.”

  BOOOOM! The unmistakable sound of a distant explosion cut the air. Plates and glasses throughout the apartment clinked softly together from the vibration as Kabbard felt the building sway around him. He bolted for the door.

  Throughout the cramped halls, people emerged from their doors with confused looks. They started rifling through their Neural feeds, searching for any late-breaking explanation. Kabbard sprinted past them to the nearest landing deck access. Outside on the platform, several residents stood motionless, recording the images on the horizon and gabbing amongst themselves. The pale stripe of the Border wall, barely visible from this deep in the City, had been split. Divided now by a column of burning smoke. A chorus of sirens rose from the eerie, whispering quiet, echoing throughout every sector in every direction.

  Kabbard scanned the deck for the Zeus. His body flushed with long-forgotten purpose as he took off running for it.

  BOOOOM! BOOOOM! B-BOOOOOOM!

  “Everyone back inside! BACK INSIDE!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. The people around him flinched at the voice and scurried away. With three lunging strides, he arrived at the Zeus, leaped onto the landing gear steps, and yanked the canopy release open. Andreas and Nicks caught up to him, panting with their hands on their knees.

  “You guys comin’?” asked Kabbard. He dropped himself in the cockpit, strapped in, and ran through the start-up procedure, flicking switches and pulling levers in a speeding blur.

  “No, sir, we can’t!” shouted Andreas, “You can’t! Sato needs us to—”

  “Didn’t think so! Now I have absolute faith in you Andreas, vicious little cunt that you are, to do everything Mr. Sato requires! In fact, for your first act as the new Chief of Security, pass the man a message for me!” Kabbard extended his middle finger as hard as he could as the hatch door closed and sealed. He fired the engines, grinning as he saw the blast of hot air blow Andreas and Nicks back on the deck.

  The grin faded. Through the windshield, he saw tracer rounds and anti-aircraft fire streak through the sky against a backdrop of solid smoke. He couldn’t believe it. He always knew it. As he squeezed the throttle to maximum, his teeth clenched. The War...My War... A very real pang of fear struck him, then soaked in. He had almost forgotten the taste of it. But this was different. This is it.

  39

  Hell

  THE AIR WAS on fire, full of hot ash and dust. In his dulled ears, Jogun heard his choked, ragged breaths in between the thumps of cannon fire and artillery. Gun shots and whizzing near-misses sounded soft against the fuzz. The vibration of his EXO rig fell into a super-human rhythm as he leaped over concrete and twisted rebar. It was hard to trust the gear, especially since it was launching him deeper into Hell.

  The flagship ‘Matteo’ had taken an EXO stunner blast from one of the IG-8s, sending it fishtailing into the side of a warehouse when half the crew went unconscious. The whole thing had crashed like the fist of God. They lost nineteen soldiers to the crash. Eight wounded or stunned. Eleven killed. Beaten and bloody, Jogun and the forty-three survivors had crawled out of the wreck and joined in the ground assault. He felt better with his feet on solid ground. But not much.

  Kolpa, who had kept pace with Jogun’s EXO rig since the crash, took a round in the face. It blew the man’s skull in half. Jogun felt warm drops skitter across his arm as he planted a crushing boot on a concrete slab, pushed off, and fired three bursts from his Themis security-issue assault rifle into a pack of shooters covered behind a truck. They popped in plumes of red mist. Fighting with the Augs at full tilt felt like being trapped in a machine with a mind of its own. Good thing the machine knew what the hell it was doing..

  They fought against a mix of Border Patrol, EXO first responders, and several others he didn’t recognize. Crazy men in hardhats firing rivet guns, throwing explosives, and even swinging wrenches. But the T99s and Healed were organized. The top fleet pushed up into the skyline to spot and take down any party crashers, forming a perimeter in the air. The mid fleet protected the boots on the ground with its smaller carriers and Scouts making firing runs, bombing runs, and evac. And then there were the Soldiers. They had filled every fleet ship to the brim, and still thousands more streamed through the burning canyons carved through the Border. Some wore full Themis loader rigs, spraying chemical jets of fire. Others armored themselves in t-shirts, shorts, and rotten sneakers. Their roar gripped Jogun by the bones.

  With the EXO Gunships locked in dogfights above, their BASE stunners wouldn’t be a problem. Jogun and his battalion pressed through the streets at break-neck pace, washing over the shocked, disorganized enemy. The loader troops helped with that. Jogun saw a squad of five EXO’s melt in a blast of a loader’s liquid fire. A few T99s passed, laughing like stray dogs.

  Jogun paused, Augmented knees suddenly weak. There were civilians everywhere, too. Cowering in alleys. Defending small shops with broom-handles and pistols. Running toward the City with their children. Jogun saw a young Nine dragging a pretty girl through a broken store window. Cut, bleeding, and screaming, she clawed at the Soldier. Jogun clenched his teeth and took two bounding strides toward them. Stumbled when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

  “JO!” a voice screamed, “Get DOWN!” Rusaam pulled him into cover behind a truck, then pointed up at the sky. The ‘Alati�
� cruised to a stop over the Outer Ring and swung its cannon around. As its rear engines heated for the counter-push, the cannon fired, burying a Scorcher round in a domed, metal hangar. The shockwave blew away what wasn’t vaporized, leaving a white-hot mushroom cloud in its wake. As the rolling thunder faded to echoes, cheers filled the streets, buildings, and rooftops. Rusaam stood up, raised his rifle, let out a whoop, and ran on.

  Jogun stepped back out in the street, light-headed. He searched the storefront and nearby alleys. Nothing. The girl and the T99 were gone. Sweat poured down his face as gasped for air in his scorched throat. He clenched his eyes shut and raised his face to the sun. Panic gripped his chest. What the fuck are we doing here?!

  “Healer,” said a nervous voice. Jogun’s eyes flashed open. The young T99 instantly looked away despite his obvious size and strength. Under the soot and drying blood, Jogun put the squashed face to a name.

  “Oki,” said Jogun, “You’re Oki, right?” That seemed to hook the kid up to a wall socket. Jogun sighed, remembering the younger, pinker version of this soldier that last day on the rooftops. A long time ago.

  “Yeah...yeah, that’s me. Doc Utu’s lookin’ for you. Said he got somethin’ you need to see...” Oki said. Jogun looked once more at the shattered storefront, shoved the memory somewhere deep, and nodded to the boy.

  “Lead the way,” Jogun said, nodding. Oki made glancing eye contact. Grinned.

  More joined them on the way, following behind Jogun with hard looks on young faces. The growing posse bristled with weapons as they marched over the enemy corpses littering the streets. Again, the awareness of his bizarre, growing legend tugged at him. They’ll remember this forever. If we survive.

  Finally, Oki stopped and pointed to a small cluster of soldiers grouped in a bombed out parking deck. They quickly noticed the Healer’s presence, and made a space. Utu sat among them on an upturned bucket, leaning forward on his palm. Talking. A skinny, rat-like kid sat across from him. The boy wore the same kind of jumpsuit a few of the strange soldiers had worn, unzipped to the waist with a dingy undershirt plastered to his pale skin. A smearing of dark blood gathered underneath his nose. Utu turned on the bucket.

  “My boy,” Utu beamed as he stood up. He looked so different without his airy temple robes, clothed instead in a flak vest, canvas pants, heavy boots, and two ammo bandoliers. Somehow smaller. The doctor crossed to Jogun and wrapped his arms around him. “Come! Come! I’ve met someone rather interesting. Um, Illk? Illyk? I’m saying the name right, aren’t I?”

  Only the Doc could make friends in a war zone. The boy on the bucket nodded, careful not to move too much with so many gun barrels trained on him.

  “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

  “Very good. Illyk, I’d like you to meet Jogun. Would you be so kind as to tell him what you just told me?” Utu asked. Illyk rubbed his palms on his pant legs and cleared his throat.

  “We can help you,” Illyk said, “Our group.”

  “Help us?” Jogun asked, “A lot of your people just died tryin’ to kill us.”

  “Y-your attack caught us completely by surprise,” said Illyk, “We live here. We work here. After the bombs went off, we were just trying to defend ourselves, but now... Now we realize what you’re trying to do.”

  “And what’re we tryin’ to do?” Jogun really wanted to hear the answer to this question. Any answer. Every spare moment to think had been consumed by it. Illyk blinked and shook his head.

  “Well...Revolution...right?” Illyk said, “That’s what we want, too.”

  Jogun squinted. Illyk had to be lying to save his skin. No one on this side of the Border could possibly want that. They lived in Utopia. The promised land. They built the Border to keep us out. Why help tear it down?

  “Listen, the entire City runs twenty-four hours a day on the power that we kill ourselves to pump out. You’d think they’d be more grateful, but we’re practically slaves, barely able to feed ourselves or our families. Tried petitioning in the beginning, but we were ignored. Tried striking, then Sato dissolved the unions. Now we Hack. Dig up every dirty secret we can get our hands on and rip it out for all to see. It helped us organize and pool our resources, but it’s pretty much stopped there. No one wants to hear that their government’s corrupt or that they’re enslaved, and even fewer want to do something about it. Now we all have to.”

  This kid was hopped up on something, that was for sure. Jogun kept staring, waiting for the punchline. Illyk deflated a little.

  “You need us. Cut off the City’s power supply, network connections, satellite connectivity, and imports, and they’re at your mercy. Then you’ll need information. City layout, target selection...places to raid, buildings to hit...EXO stations...EXO Headquarters!”

  A ripple of excitement swept through the Soldiers. A few whispered to each other. Laughed. Jogun rubbed the stubble on his chin, considering.

  “And you speak for your people?”

  “I do.”

  “We take your help, we get theirs?”

  “You will.”

  Jogun stepped toward Illyk. The sound of the EXO servos made the kid flinch. Jogun extended his Augged hand. Cautiously, Illyk stood and accepted it.

  “Put the word out,” Jogun projected his voice to the Soldiers, “The workers are with us. Any of ‘em try to attack, tell ‘em Illyk sent you. Take care of their wounded like you’d take care of ours.”

  The soldiers muttered in agreement, then dispersed, running out in every direction across the debris field.

  “One more thing,” Illyk said after they’d gone. For some reason that Jogun didn’t know, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “This is gonna take more than brute force. Forty million people live in Sedonia City, and right now most of ‘em aren’t exactly happy to see you guys. You go in guns blazing, trying to occupy every apartment and skyscraper you come across, then you’re gonna lose. Without the people, this is pointless. We need to convince ‘em we’re on their side.”

  Jogun felt a cold finger of panic. The scope of the whole thing had just jumped by forty million. He buried the terror. Listened.

  “I recently came across this story, and man, I guarantee you it’s the perfect knife to shove between the administration’s ribs: first-hand mem data of an assassination carried out by the state, and proof that a fleet of ships is being built for the rich and powerful to ditch Earth! Grab the best talent, suck up all the resources they can, then leave the rest of us behind to just die out!”

  Jogun furrowed his brow. This guy was sounding more and more Swayed by the second. “You gonna have to forgive me if I think you’re full of shit.” The soldiers around him chambered rounds in their guns and pressed closer.

  “C’mon, man, it’s the truth! The government hacked this whistleblower guy Rindal’s transport while he was trying to escape with his wife and kid! Crashed him in the Slums, and covered the whole thing up, but the kid survived! Recorded the whole thing on his implant! He showed up out of the blue this morning, and asked me to dig it up, but—”

  “Where is he?! Is he alright?!” Jogun realized he had two clenched fistfuls of Illyk’s undershirt. The kid went ghost white.

  “Uh! Y-yeah man, yeah he’s alright! He’s not here though...ran off with the mem-stick right after you guys hit.”

  Jogun pulled Illyk closer with a buzzing jerk of servos.

  “D-don’t worry!” Illyk continued, “I’m in contact with a guy who’s with him! Says we should have the kid and the data in an hour or so.”

  40

  Evacuation

  LIANI STRUGGLED TO get a grip. She had jumped in feet first and couldn’t remember why...especially now that everything was on fire. Something to do with owing it to him? To everyone? All Corey’s bullshit about being a conscientious objector must have gotten under her skin pretty deep. She thought she’d successfully ignored him this whole time. Her shot at making a difference had come and gone once, and she had hated herself for it ever since.
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br />   Out of the panic crept the most intense anxiety Liani had ever felt. Not helped by Sato’s official declaration of a state of emergency and martial law. She tried to focus on flying Corey’s clunky-ass van in a straight line. Bumper to bumper, three-level traffic snaked its way forward for miles through Sedonia’s main avenues, and everywhere, SCPD cruisers patrolled the airspace. Their shiny, unused cannon attachments glinted in the sun, begging to unleash violence.

  Corey may or may not have suggested several times that they switch places, but his voice was far away. Remote against the noise of her brain as it tried to make sense of everything. They hadn’t flown far into the fringe districts of the Inner Ring when the emergency broadcast message appeared in her Neural.

  ‘ALERT: All civilian traffic is hereby grounded until further notice. Evacuations to the eastern zones will be coordinated via Superway. Any civilian vehicles in violation of the No-Fly Mandate will be considered enemy combatants.’

  “They’re not screwing around...” Liani said. Corey didn’t seem to hear her, absorbed in some messaging window in his Neural. He had it set in privacy mode. So shady.

  “Hey!” she shouted, slugging Corey in the arm, “Help me, would you? I’m kinda freaking out here! Where do I park this thing so we don’t get blown up?”

  “Oh, right, uhh,” he swiped the conversation away, and pulled up the local GPS, “Set it down over...there. Wellington Plaza. There’s a station within walking distance.”

  “Great! Wellington! Whatever!” Liani pushed down on the flight sticks. The harsh, lurching dive of the van made her stomach jump into her throat. Matteo and Corey both grasped frantically for the safety handles.

  “Just...take it easy, okay? We’ll be fine,” said Corey. Normally his caretaker act was kind of dopey and sweet. Right now she wanted to bury her fist in his face. It’s really not my fault this thing handles like a giant ham with humming bird wings! Asshole.