by Ahern, Jerry
Tou can fuck off and die before you get my father and mother into your hands to kill them,” Michael Rourke told him. “And the Retreat doesn’t belong to you. And you don’t know the way inside, you schmuck.” It was Yiddish for prick, that word, something he had picked up from Annie, whom Michael assumed had, in turn, learned it from her husband.
Colonel Mann cleared his throat, then said, “Commander, you may or may not have the right to seize the possessions and property of the Herr Doctor and Frau Rourke, but this base constitutes the embassy of The Republic of New Germany in Eden, and as such cannot be subject to your civil authority. You cannot remove the Rourkes, nor can you arrest Fraulein Major Tiemerovna. John and Sarah Rourke will be flown away from here as soon as Doctor Munchen considers it medically advisable, then to New Germany or Mid-Wake
where they will be given the finest care to be had ■ the hopes of their full and complete recoveries. And, although t is not my place to comment, once Akiro Kurinami bets you s a free election, were I you, I might think of where on the small Earth of ours to hide from the wrath of God and man-“It is you, Herr Commander, and Nazi conspirators whom I think must be responsible for what has happened here this _ night. Once that is proven, you will be the sworn enemy of every free man and woman. Enjoy your moment, for it will be your last.”
Dodd was on his feet now, starting for the door. And Wolfgang Mann interposed himself within the doorway between Dodd and the outer office. “I personally, Hen Commander, count Frau Rourke as one of the finest persons I have ever known. That you authorized or ordered or even condoned what was done to her is beyond despicable. Were I a private citizen, I would kill you now, you disgust me so.”
“Where’s our brother, Dodd?” Michael Rourke’s hands trembled with rage, his fists balling closed, opening, balling closed again.
“I am not responsible to you.”
Wolfgang Mann said, “Once you leave this facility, Hen-Commander, I would walk quickly, and I would never keep myself alone, nor be without a weapon in instant reach, and avoid dark places.”
Dodd looked at Natalia. “Will you chose to surrender yourself to me for trial?”
Natalia lit a cigarette, blew the smoke in his face. “I am not religious, but I am struck by the Biblical story of Eden, Commander Dodd. There was a tempter. There were the tempted. But you have simultaneously offered the apple and eaten it yourself. Perhaps, if I were to cut off your arms and legs, you could then crawl on your belly as you should.”
Wolfgang Mann stepped aside.
Dodd walked out.
Michael Rourke looked out the office window. Perhaps there
was symbolic meaning behind it, although he doubted that. But, the sun definitely rose.
“Paul should be well enough to travel in a few days,” Annie said emotionlessly from behind him.
Natalia asked, “Doctor Munchen, what is their fate?”
Michael Rourke closed his eyes, no longer wishing to see the sunrise.
Munchen’s voice came to him through the darkness.
“To prevent John’s condition from further deteriorating, and to keep Sarah alive until, someday, there may be a procedure by which she can be saved, there is only one choice, a gamble at best.
“But they are man and wife, and at least they will sleep together.”
“The Sleep” Michael Rourke said, not opening his eyes.
Two
Wind swept over the field, light snow falling, driving hard against them.
The J7-V which would transport them was waiting at the center of the field. Three more of the craft circled overhead, waiting as escort for the flight and now as sentries against the unexpected.
Jason Darkwood and Margaret Barrow would accompany John and Sarah Rourke to Mid-Wake, where German doctors were already waiting to consult with their American colleagues. A Russian specialist from the Underground City had volunteered his services as well.
Paul and Annie, Paul’s hands swathed in bandages and a large patch bandage on his left cheek, stood at the edge of the pad; Annie’s long skirts blowing in the wind.
And Natalia looked suddenly at Michael Rourke who stood beside her when he reached out and took her hand. She let him hold her hand, not knowing why she let him do so nor why he wanted to.
Beneath hermetically sealed half-cylinders, John and Sarah were brought out onto the field. Doctor Munchen walked beside them.
Natalia could see their faces clearly, despite the fact that the left side of Sarah’s face was heavily bandaged.
She looked asleep, and so did John.
Colonel Mann-had he secretly Men in love with Sarah? NaMa wondered, saddened at the thought as the honor guard was called to attention.
A tape was begun, the Star Spangled Banner.
As the United States national anthem played, John and Sarah were wheeled across the field. Colonel Mann ordered present arms.
Rifle salutes from the men and women ranked on three sides of the field.
Colonel Mann rendered a hand salute.
Tears flooded Natalia’s eyes and she cursed her sex for the emotions being so close to the surface, sometimes so hard to control. She needed to be hard, more than ever before, to avenge the terrible act which wrought this, to find John and Sarah’s missing child.
But her heart was ripped from her, and she could barely stand.
Michael’s arm went around her and she leaned her face against his chest and wept.
Michael whispered to her, “Let it go. Let it go.”
Her tears flowed more freely now than she could ever remember having cried before, even as a little girl. And she felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life.
But Michael held her.
Twenty-one persons, men and women of Mid-Wake and of New Germany; ranked behind the flags of the United States (and Mid-Wake) and of New Germany, fired their assault rifles skyward as Natalia looked.
“I swear to your God, John and Sarah, I will never rest until we find the child and kill the men who did this.”
Beside her, Michael, his voice hoarse, tight, tears running down his cheeks, his body shaking, whispered, “Amen.”
Three
The election would be in a matter of days, the election for leadership of Eden, a mere handful of persons deciding the future of what was once the United States, to follow Akiro Kurinami, who stood for honor and courage, or Dodd, who was vile and despicable.
Annie Rourke Rubenstein, her eyes burning with exhaustion and tears, dressed herself for the ordeal now facing them, where climate, as much as anything else would be the adversary. Chinese silk tights, heavy and black, like her spirit. A cream colored silk teddy, of the kind Natalia always wore, also Chinese. Then, over the tights, heavy stockings, of coarse black wool, elasticized at the thighs to stay up. She stepped into a heavy silk slip, elasticized at the waist, the garment coming to mid-thigh level.
If-when-they found-What exactly were these people? Killers? Certainly, but not of her parents, not yet, because her
E
arents both lived in a strange, horrible way. Was life like that etter than death?
It would be a matter of a few days only before the decision would have to be made to put her mother and father into cryogenic sleep, the same procedure which had saved all their lives, allowing them to sleep for five centuries while the Earth became at least slightly habitable again, while they waited for the return of the Eden Project.
What irony, she thought, that the humans for whom she and her brother-especially her brother-had watched in the night sky each and every night, well over a decade, should return to
bring them this horror.
She buttoned her blouse, white, long sleeved, heavy cotton, buttoning it fully to the neck.
Annie stepped into her skirt, nearly ankle length, moderately full, charcoal gray-lined wool. Smoothing the tails of her blouse beneath the waistband, she zipped and buttoned it at her side. She pulled on her sweater, long-sleeved, crew-necked, charcoal gray
like her skirt. She pulled the little round collar of her blouse from beneath the neck of her sweater.
The logical starting place was Dodd, of course. It had to be Dodd.
Akiro had volunteered to return, as had Elaine, but Michael and Paul had insisted that they should not, not until the eve of the election, and only then if he kept as close as possible under German security.
She stepped into her boots, began completing the lacing.
The first step would be Commander Dodd, learning from him who had her unnamed brother, where they hid him.
Between them-herself. her husband, her brother, Natalia-they had not yet decided what to do about Dodd. Kill him?
Or let the election throw him out, ruin him, reveal him. Let the new laws which would be made, bring him to book.
Her boots tied, she began to don her weapons.
The little cold steel Mini-Tanto. Sheathed in the special rig made for her in Lydveldid Island, she secured it to the inside of her left calf. She buckled on her gunbelt, the Detonics Scoremaster .45 in one holster, the Beretta 92F she’d taken from a man who had kidnapped her and tried to rape her, in the other. Spare magazines for both pistols-two for each-were arrayed in pouches on the belt, the rest of the magazines for her handguns, along with other miscellaneous gear, in a leather musette bag she carried, which doubled as a purse, with her hairbrush and other necessities.
Annie Rourke Rubenstein looked at herself in the mirror.
She always felt slightly ridiculous suited up for the wilder
ness or tor battle, and usually both.
Since her girlhood, when their father had awakened them early from the cryogenics chambers, to which both her father and mother might soon return, perhaps forever, she had teft compelled to express herself as female in a world where, then, the only two other humans were male, father and brother.
Desire had become habit and on those few occasions, when the extremes of climate demanded, she had to wear trousers, she felt terribly uncomfortable, unnatural almost.
For the first time since the attack on her parents, she almost laughed, seeing herself in the mirror, skirt and combat boots, peter pan collar and gunbelt.
She sat down in front of the mirror and put on her earrings …
“You will be killed.”
“So?”
“So?”
“So.”
“Colonel Mann can organize-“
“Colonel Mann can’t do what needs to be done. He knows it and so do I.” “But, Michael, the war is over.”
“Only a major engagement, Maria; that’s all that’s over. The wars never end. There’s an occasional truce, a lull in the fighting, and sometimes a shifting of alliances. But the war goes on forever, if you think about it.”
“What are you telling me, Michael?”
“That you love me and I care a great deal for you, but I don’t know when Fll be back, or even if. And I think you’d be better off without me.”
“Michael!”
Tm sorry, but not for what I am.”
Michael Rourke did not kiss Maria Leuden, simply looked
at her one more time and left the room, walked along the corridor, taking his gunbelt from his shoulder and cinching it at his waist.
He could hear his father’s voice inside his head: “You behaved like an asshole toward her, Michael; she loves you.” He didn’t love her.
And that was a fact he could not escape.
And Michael Rourke wondered what his father would say if he could see just what was in his son’s mind and heart right now, at this very instant.
He doubted very much that John Rourke would like what he saw very much at all.
Four
Natalia Anastasia Tiemerovna set down the receiver of the radio telephone. Frau Bruner had put Jea on the line. “Natalia?” “Yes. Did they tell you?” “No like.”
“You help Frau Bruner, okay?” “Yes, no like.”
“Are we friends, you and I?” “Yes.”
“Would you help me?” “Yes.
“Then, help me now. And understand why I help my other friends, okay?” “Yes. Love much.”
And he had handed the receiver back to Frau Bruner. They spoke for several minutes about the school, about Jea. about when Natalia might be back. “I do not know, Frau Bruner. I may never be back.” ‘But, Fraulein Major!”
“I have asked you to call me just Natalia, or Frauieic Tiemerovna, or whatever you like but that.” But, why argue that now? “Anyway, Frau Bruner. You can run the school not just as well as I, but better. And we both know that, don’t we?”
Frau Bruner was silent for a moment, and Natalia almost began to think the transmission was broken. But then her voice came back. “I will miss you, Natalia.”
Frau Bruner said Natalia’s name with great deliberance, great care.
“I will miss you, Clara. You are my good friend. Bless you.” And Natalia hung up.
She stood now in front of the mirror, just looking at herself.
Natalia Anastasia Tiemerovna was back in the world where she belonged, doing what presumably she was born to do, if one believed in Fate.
She took the gunbelt John had searched so hard to find for her, securing it around her waist just over the hips. She picked up the twin stainless steel Smith & Wesson L-Frame .357 Magnum revolvers with their American Eagles engraved on the right barrel flats, holstering them both, the loads already checked after she had completed cleaning them. Then washed her hands several times to rid herself of the odor of the lubricant’cleaner that accumulated beneath her nails.
She took the Null shoulder holster from the back of the vanity chair, slung it on. securing the crossover strap to her gunbelt (more comfortable than attaching it to the loop sewn into the waist of the black jumpsuit she wore). The PPK/S, which John had rescued along with her from the fire, was already holstered, its suppressor in place. Finally, she picked up the Bali-Song from the small table the Germans had provided her.
Her right thumb flipped up the lock, and she wheeled the knife in her hand, steel moving like something alive. She desperately wanted to use the knife, to kill Commander Dodd.
She closed the Bali-Song, securing it inside the sewn-in pouch, along the jumpsuit’s right leg.
Natalia caught up her black purse which converted to a day pack, and her parka, too. Black fabric-the lining of the jacket and the hood-synthetic fur as warm and soft and real feeling as the sable of the once glorious coat which was now stained with and smelled of smoke from the fire.
She looked at herself one more time in the mirror.
Had she not averted her face and held her breath, she would have inhaled enough of the cyanide gas that she would be
dead now. Five centuries ago, she would never have survived in any event.
She wondered if she was better off now or would have been better off then…
Michael Rourke, his pack set on the synth-concrete beside him, stomped his booted feet against the cold.
The night was nothing but stars, no cloud cover, no precipitation, no moon amounting to anything more than an obscure sliver, the blackness like velvet. He remembered the nights before the Awakening, watching the stars with his father and his sister. Then Annie would go to bed.
That was his time, to sit with John Rourke, the hero, the legend, the demi-god, his father.
It was precious time, because in a short while his father would return to the Sleep, to rejoin them once again in what was then a distant future time.
And the future never was nor would it be something one could count on.
“Why do you watch the stars, Dad?”
“Well, beats looking at you, right?” And then his father would laugh, hit him on the the arm or hug him to him and sometimes kiss his forehead. That gesture was embarrassing then, because they were both guys.
Michael Rourke longed for it again, now.
“I like to try to guess what’s up there, Michael.”
“You mean like the Eden Project?
”
“No. They’re just men, like ourselves.” That sounded pretry good at the time. “I just kind of wonder, that’s all.”
“So do I.”
“What do you wonder about, Michael?”
“What’s gonna happen in the future.”
His father laughed, puffed on his cigar. “Nobody can tell that. And that’s probably a good thing. If we knew all the happy moments and all the sad ones, we’d be so busy trying
to rearrange everything, we’d never get anything done and before you knew it all the happy times would be gone.”
“What will the happy times be like, Dad?”
“You’ll know them, Mike, and the sad times, too.”
Michael Rourke took his father’s battered old Zippo lighter from his pocket, pulled off his outer glove and the liner. In the light from the airfield, he could just make out the steam rising from the palm of his hand as he shone the lighter on them.
The lighter was the one thing of his father’s that he had. But, that was a lie.
The lighter was only a tangible possession. He had many things of bis father, he told himself, intangible things that were more important than anything physical. Memories, love, learning.
No Commander Dodd, no assassins, no living death in cryogenic sleep could ever deprive him of such things as these.
He held the lighter very tightly in his fist.
He heard footsteps and looked around, but slowly.
It was Annie, looking for all the world like someone off for a walk in the countryside, yet somehow dressed for battle, too.
Paul, his hands still bandaged under his gloves, Michael knew.
Natalia, beautiful Natalia.
And the last two members of their group, Bjorn Rolvaag, the Icelandic policemen, and his wolf-like dog, Hrothgar. Natalia said something to him and he nodded, smiled. Annie gave him a big hug.
Paul made a gesture that was something like a salute.
And everyone looked at him. His eyes met Natalia’s eyes, and they held each other’s eyes for an instant, and then she cast her eyes down.
And, in that moment, Michael Rourke realized that, for better or worse, he was the leader because he was John Rourke’s son and John Rourke could not lead them now.
