The Reign: Destiny - The Life Of Travis Rand

by Lance Berry

  “How’s it hangin’, Rand?” Jared called to him loudly as he stepped out the door. Travis anxiously glanced up at Gilda’s window. The curtains were drawn and no lights were on in her house. Travis locked the front door and headed in the direction of the voice. “LeVoy, are you out of your white mind?” he scolded as quietly but intently as he could. “I have neighbors, man! They’re asleep!”

  “So, so sorry,” Jared said in an obviously insincere tone. “I thought you’d be pleased to come out and play with my new toy.”

  The ‘Kar lights suddenly dimmed, and Travis had to stop and wait for his eyes to adjust once more to the darkness, as they had almost become accustomed to the headlight glare. He blinked a couple times automatically, then once in amazed comprehension as he realized what stood before him.

  “You have got to be shitting me.”

  Jared sat in the driver’s seat of a brand new AirKar, the very latest to come off the assembly line–the Sirius 9840. It was shorter than most AirKars, and therefore had less mass to hold it down as it hovered. It could move up to twenty times faster than the majority of ‘Kars on the market, and had until recently been used only by the upper echelons of the military for personal transport. It had only very recently been legalized for private civilian use.

  Travis wandered around the ink-black car, oblivious to his friends’ amused staring at him (he had only just noticed that Carver was sitting in the passenger seat) as his eyes drank in the ‘Kar’s sleek, angular surface, which added to its wind resistance. The almost-stunted vehicle had extended fins at its rear, which served no purpose but to draw attention to its design. Travis noticed that it had dual fusion emission release funnels, whereas most AirKars had only one. Further propellant power.

  And it was a convertible.

  “How? How?” It was the only thing Travis could find to say, as he stared at Jared in jealous stupefaction.

  Jared shrugged. “I clown around a lot, but my dad was happy as a pig in shit that I pulled my act together and made it out of this year with top honors. He subcontracts on tech design work for the military, and someone high up was reeeaal pleased with his work on the next class of Heavy Cruiser. You’re looking at an early graduation present, Travis. I wasn’t supposed to get this ‘til next year.”

  Travis shook his head and breathed in the comfortably cool night air. He wasn’t sure whether he had actually awakened or was experiencing some weird extension of his surreal dream from earlier. He decided to opt for reality, which at this moment was much, much cooler. “And you drove all the way down here from Connecticut, just to show this off to me?”

  “Oh, please,” Jared laughed. “Like you would’ve been content with just seeing the picture on your com-screen!”

  Carver reached out the passenger side and slapped his hand against the doorframe. “C’mon, Travis! Get in, let’s go!”

  “Go where?”

  “Who gives a shit?” Carver laughed as he said it. “It’s summer, man! Let’s go have fun!”

  Taken in by his friends’ uproarious attitude and the seductiveness of the new “toy”, as Jared had put it, Travis leaped over the rear door and neatly landed in the middle of the back seat. Jared brought the engine to life once more, as the group whooped victoriously at Travis’ stunt. The engine roared in eager anticipation, and Jared spun the Sirius around, just missing the Ramirez porch. This caused Travis to look back warily. He glanced upward and saw Gilda at her window, watching after him worriedly as he and his friends sped off into the night.

  Chapter 3

  The trio stopped by a small lake around four in the morning, just off a back road. They had been ripping around for well over an hour, breaking the still darkness with the ever-increasing roar of the Sirius’ engine. The almost-squat little car topped out at 210mph, which was just a bit more speed than at which Jared could safely steer it. They had swiped against a force-field guardrail twice, and nearly careened off it and into the side of a hill. Upon Carver’s suggestion, Jared found a secluded spot and pulled over to give the ‘Kar’s miniature fusion engine a rest. Carver chilled out in the back seat, listening to tunes over the onboard com, while Travis and Jared hiked over to a spot just off the lakeshore. The two boys sat down, and in the illumination from the ‘Kar’s headlights, Jared shot his friend a mischievous look.

  “What?” Travis said expectantly.

  Jared shook his head in wonderment. “You’re actually going into a military school next year, huh?”

  “How’d you find out? I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “News travels fast, Rand. Losers sleep longest, you know that. I gotta say, I’m pretty fucking annoyed that you didn’t tell me or Carver.”

  There was a genuine hurt in Jared’s voice–something Travis didn’t hear often. He immediately felt ashamed. “I–it’s…it’s not like I meant to keep it from you guys…” he stammered, and fell silent. Jared shook his head again. “We’re friends, Travis. We’re supposed to share the important shit, y’know? It was all I could do to keep Mackee from tracking you down and whaling on your punk ass.”

  Travis looked at Jared askance, then glanced back at Carver, who was oblivious to the world as he sang along with the blaring music, painfully off-key. Travis and Jared shared a look, and chuckled together. With his slender build, meek-looking face and quiet disposition, Carver Mackee could’ve been the poster boy for the definition of Original 98lb. Weakling. As the trio’s friendship had formed, it was either Travis or Jared who always kept Carver out of any serious trouble, or took down anyone who picked on him. Physically, Carver was the weakest link in their chain… emotionally though, he had always been the most loyal and dependable.

  The snickering helped ease Travis’ tension, as he knew Jared had intended. He gratefully patted his friend’s arm. “Look, man…I’m sorry. Really. It’s just that, well, I hadn’t been sure about my choice for a while, and then I thought my family should know first–“

  “Your family?” Jared said pointedly.

  Travis shrugged. “My aunt. She’s the closest thing I have to a mom. I wanted her to know first. I owed it to her.”

  Jared nodded in agreement, but then the mischievous smile reappeared. “How is your aunt, anyway? Still hot, I hope.”

  Travis nudged him in the ribs with his elbow, not altogether playfully. “Shut up,” he said, and got to his feet. He picked up a few small stones and began skipping them across the lake. “What about you?” he said after a moment or two. “You just going back to V.N.?”

  “Whattaya mean, ‘just’? I’m going for my business major. I’m not sure what I want to do just yet, but not all of us want to run off and try and save the world.”

  “Not like it’s not a good cause, you know.”

  “Give me your aunt’s number. She’ll probably need some consoling when she gets that ‘Sorry to inform you, but…’ letter from UEF Command.”

  Travis exhaled lightly. “I had a good dinner, LeVoy. The thought of you trying to mix it with my aunt isn’t going to help keep it down.”

  Jared chuckled. “Then don’t peek down at us from upstairs.” He said this last with a meaningful glance at the sky.

  Travis turned to him, lips curled down in a hard frown. “What’s the problem?” he asked, now genuinely annoyed. “I’m going off to deal with something I feel is important–not just for myself, but for my planet. Our planet! For people I don’t know, and for people I know! For you, for Carver, Blaustein, for Gilda, for–“

  “Whoa-ho-hoah! Who’s Gilda?” Jared asked, and sat forward with interest. Travis rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Would you stop mentally spanking off and focus for a second?”

  “Oof!” Jared said and jerked back sharply, as if he had smacked face first into some unseen obstacle. “I forgot I was up against the indomitable force-wall of Travis Rand’s desire to never bag a babe.” He leapt to his feet, arms akimbo as he firmly placed his hands on his hips. “And now, the further adventures of–Chastity Man!” he said in a boomin
g announcer’s voice.

  Travis couldn’t resist a snicker at Jared’s ridiculous pose. “It’s not that I don’t want to snag a gal, man…I just want the right one. I just tend to be a bit pickier than you.”

  Jared splayed a hand across his chest, a look of surprise on his face. “You think I’m not choosy? If a girl wants to get with me–and outside of the bizarrely indecisive Lattimore, what one wouldn’t?–she’s gotta at least have all her teeth. And I think that’s pretty damn choosy, if you ask me!”

  There was a laugh from behind them, as Carver walked over to join his friends. One hand was behind his back. “Yeah, you’re a choosy s.o.b., Jared. Here I was, thinking you’d prefer a girl without teeth, just to make it easier on you and your penis.”

  Jared shrugged. “Unlike either of you slobs, I have standards. When I put that final smile on her face, I wanna see teeth, not granny gums.”

  The trio laughed. Carver brought his hidden hand forward and triumphantly waved a bottle of Royal Crown. “From my dad’s personal stash, gentlemen. If we’re going to be saying goodbye to Brother Rand, let’s do it in style.”

  With a round of applause from Travis and Jared, the three friends settled down by the lake for the night… passing the bottle and talking the stars away. Even with the eventual buzz in his head, Travis never did let slip who Gilda was or what she meant to him. But he and his friends did regale each other with tales they’d heard of the recent triumphs and losses of the Heavy Cruiser fleet in their engagements beyond Earth’s solar system. They toasted at the end of each tale, for either a victory or loss, and even in their youthful exuberance, they had the decency to at least make the latter toasts more somber and respectful.

  Somewhere around four thirty or so in the morning, Jared, of all people, had the slightly askew common sense to suggest they’d all had enough to drink. The boy had become skilled over the years in consuming his alcohol, so that he knew when he began to slur his words a bit (as he was now), it was time to quit.

  The friends got to their feet and shared a last toast to Travis’ health and safety. There were hugs and surprisingly unembarrassed tears all around, and they finally managed to pack their inebriated butts into the Sirius 9840 AirKar. The ride was a little uncertain at first, but Jared quickly managed to shake off his buzz, helped greatly by the rushing air around them.

  As the ‘Kar pulled into the Richards driveway, Travis noted with some disappointment that Gilda’s light was out in her window. But of course it would be; what did he expect, that she’d faithfully wait up for him? She wasn’t his girl, they were only friends. He shrugged it off and climbed out of the ‘Kar with minimal difficulty. The air had helped clear his head a bit as well, and he was grateful for it. The Royal Crown was the first alcohol he had ever tasted, and the lack of mental control he felt didn’t sit well with him. He leaned into the AirKar, shared last hugs with his friends, and watched from his porch as this time Jared smoothly steered the ‘Kar away from the house and back up the road.

  Friendship is a funny thing: it sometimes doesn’t take a lot to shatter it, but the bonds which form it (sometimes over seemingly tiny things–a handshake given, a kind word spoken) can give it a type of cementing which can hold for an eternity, outlasting buildings, institutions and governments. Over the years, Travis Rand would meet many diverse and interesting people, in the process forming friendships, which would outlast many of these things. But in an unspoken, subconscious manner which he could never articulate… he would always know that never in his life would he ever manage to find better friends than Mackee and LeVoy.

  Chapter 4

  “Where in the world have you been?”

  Travis started at the unexpected voice, which shot out at him from the darkness of the living room. He would have called out for the lights to come up, but his father had preferred the old style light switches in the house, rather than a voice activated Omni-Directional Comlink (ODC).

  Travis reached for the switch closest to the door, but someone beat him to the lamp near the couch. The light clicked on, and Travis blinked momentarily against the sudden illumination. When his vision cleared, he let out a soft sigh of disappointment.

  Jack had come home.

  His father sat on the couch, dressed in full uniform, a reproving look on his face as he gave his son an appraising once-over. “Are you drunk?” he asked him, surprised at the possibility. He had never known Travis to take even a sip of alcohol, even at New Years’. Was this one more damn problem he was going to have to deal with?

  Travis snapped to as rigid a posture of full attention as he could manage. “Sir! No, sir!” he said in a mocking tone. “The correct terminology is ‘buzzed’, sir!”

  Jack’s eyes widened slightly and his teeth ground together. It took every bit of effort to stick to the vow he had made to never raise a hand to his son. “Don’t irk me, boy,” he growled. “I’ve been home since three a.m. When I realized you weren’t in your room, I waited up. I thought, maybe for a second, that you had had the balls to finally go next door and stick your key in your little girlfriend’s lock–“

  “You watch the way you talk about her!”

  Both Jack and Travis froze in place. Jack, because he had never seen his son react in such a manner towards him, even with all the arguments they had had over the years. And Travis suddenly realized he had actually taken a step forward toward his father, fists clenched, ready to hit him! Travis stared down at his closed hands; they trembled in anticipation. He looked back at Jack, whose look of surprise had turned to a type of admiration. “Balls, after all,” the elder man said quietly. “It’s quite a disappointment to see that instead you hung out with those two miscreants from Virginia North. They’re going to turn you into a loser, right along with them.”

  Travis grunted in disgust and headed for the stairs. “I don’t need to hear this. I don’t care what you say. I’m going to sleep. At least their fathers are waiting to greet them when they come home for the summer.”

  “Their fathers don’t captain Heavy Cruisers,” Jack said, his voice raising a notch. “Their fathers don’t have the responsibilities I do!”

  Travis stopped at the base of the stairs. He eyed his father coldly, from over his shoulder. “Actually, Jack… they do have the responsibilities you do. Jared’s father has more, really. And he still finds time to spend with him, and give him early birthday presents. I don’t even remember the last time you got me a birthday gift.”

  “Try and remember the last time you deserved one,” Jack spat at him. “Then maybe you’ll figure it out.”

  “The hell with you.”

  Jack was in his face, almost before Travis realized he had moved from the couch. “You don’t ever speak to me like that,” he said, jabbing a finger in Travis’ chest. “I pay the bills in this house! I raised your sorry ass when your mother died! I am your father–“

  “Foster,” Travis said in a particularly disdainful tone. “I probably would’ve done better if Orphan Relocation Services had raised me.”

  Jack’s lips meshed together unpleasantly a moment. He was truly stung by Travis’ words, but refused to show it. “You think so, huh? You think ORS could’ve done better by you? If I hadn’t found you in the New York Wastelands, you would’ve died! You would’ve died, right next to your parents–“

  He caught himself, and nearly clamped a hand over his own mouth to prevent another sound from issuing forth. Travis’ eyes widened, and he grabbed the banister to steady himself. “You never told me you found me with my parents! You told me they died in the Wastelands, and that I was with friends of theirs in one of the underground command compounds when it happened. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  The boy’s voice cracked with this last, and Jack’s anger melted away at the pain he heard there. He shook his head remorsefully, helplessly. “Travis…the circumstances under which you were found…under which your parents died. It’s …it’s all classified.”

  A feeling of unreality swept
over Travis, and he glanced at the battery clock over the fireplace: 5:20am. The dawn was beginning to break outside, and the shadows across the windowsill were gradually beginning to lighten. The steady tick-tock of the clock announced what he knew to be true: he was awake. This wasn’t some bizarre, horrible dream in which he was trapped.

  “How–“ he stopped, uncertain what to choose from the myriad of questions he had to ask. “How can my parents’ death be classified? They weren’t soldiers; my dad was a bookkeeper, and my mother was a journalist. Isn’t that true? Or is it just another lie, some more bullshit you’ve force-fed me over the years?”

  Jack sighed, suddenly feeling much older than he really was. “I never lied about who your parents were, or what they did. I never lied about when they died. I just never told you the whole truth.”

  “And the difference in that is–?”

  Jack shook his head sadly and headed back to the couch. He plopped onto it, and exhaled heavily. “Part of my job is to protect Earth Force’s secrets, son. The circumstances under which Jason and Erica Rand died are one of the best-kept secrets in the history of the institution. I can’t betray my trust…even for you.”

  Travis stared at him, aghast. Every inch of his body and soul cried out to rush over to Jack and attempt to beat him within an inch of his life, in order to get the truth from him. He had never wanted to do anything as badly be-fore. But he couldn’t move an inch; he was frozen in place, rooted to the floor by his incalculable astonishment.

  “THEY WERE MY PARENTS!”

  The scream reverberated throughout the house, and Jack actually flinched from it. The force of the emotion behind it drained Travis suddenly, mercilessly, and he collapsed on all fours, barely able to hold himself up at all. He lay crouched, shuddering like a dog come indoors from a sudden summer shower–cold and helpless, unable to find solace in the warmth of the house.