Scions of Sacrifice

by Eric Kent Edstrom

  It didn’t surprise Jacey that Meow Meow was chatting up Leslie. “So do you, uh, have a boyfriend by any chance?”

  Dante spluttered. “We’re running for our lives, and Meow Meow’s hitting on the president. Even I’m offended by that. And now I’m offended because I’m forced to be offended.”

  “I’m not the president.” Leslie said sharply.

  “Yeah, shut up, Dante,” Meow Meow said. “She’s not the prez. She’s just a sweet—Hey! That gives me an idea.”

  Whatever her idea was, they didn’t get to hear it. The sound of choppers drowned everything out. The aircraft appeared from behind the Mount Lazarus slopes. The exhausted group stopped, expecting to see Wilcox’s chopper arriving. But it wasn’t his. This was the first of the fleet’s vanguard.

  They ran.

  “Our airlift should be here by now!” Wilcox said, jabbing his finger straight ahead.

  And then Jacey saw it. The chopper was there. And it was over there. And another part of it was over there.

  Destroyed. Two spherical drones lay next to the remains, also charred and broken.

  Someone squawked behind Jacey. Meow Meow. “Oh my God! I forgot.”

  The girl pulled something tucked under her shirt. The drone swarm control device.

  Meow Meow frantically tapped the screen. All around them, the drone swarm shot in the air, like a black hailstorm falling up.

  Humphrey watched the swarm in amazement.

  “This may stall them,” Wilcox said, “But it doesn’t matter if we can’t get off this damn island.”

  The attack choppers stormed in, swooping low to land and spit out their contingent of soldiers. The men all wore black, carried black weapons, and in less than a minute there were over 200 of them on the ground.

  Upslope, a huge concussion shook the mountainside as Velle’s last drone exploded, collapsing the entrance tunnel and sealing the Lazarus facility forever.

  The drone swarm attacked. In groups of six they swept toward the soldiers, who fired their machine guns at them in impotent rage. The drones surrounded each man, sending out plasma blasts and taking them down. Soon the soldiers were scrambling for cover. But the burned-out island offered little.

  “This way,” Humphrey said, pointing. “I have a boat.”

  They ran as much as they could with Humphrey exhausted and Livy almost dead on her feet. Dante scooped Livy up and carried her.

  Humphrey barked into his radio, telling Summer they were coming to Athena. In response, he got the string of curses from Summer that made Meow Meow whistle with appreciation. “Now I want to meet that girl.”

  Though the dinghy was charred, it appeared seaworthy. They placed Livy in it first, then pushed it into the surf. Wilcox took charge of the motor, and soon they were bouncing over the waves, the spray cool and welcome on their parched skin.

  Behind them the drone swarm turned its attention to the choppers. Meow Meow tapped furiously on her command screen. Choppers began to crash. Several ran into each other, sending their rotors flying wildly over the landscape.

  The island shrank behind Jacey, the sound of explosions and gunfire lost on the wind. Ahead, the form of Athena rose in the distance. Now Jacey was leaning on Humphrey for support. She had nothing left to give.

  Summer had the lines rigged and ready to bring the dinghy aboard. As the weary Scions stepped onto the deck, Summer embraced them. She kissed Livy’s forehead and told her to follow Elias to get some food and a shower.

  Summer rolled her eyes when she saw Jacey. “About time you got back. I’ve worn myself out bossing everyone around.” The joke was betrayed by a slight quiver in the girl’s voice and wetness in her eyes. All at once, she gave up, rushed into Jacey’s arms, and hugged her tightly.

  Wilcox cleared his throat. “We better get this bucket moving.”

  Summer swallowed her emotions and sprinted for the navigation bridge, her raven hair flying in the wind behind her.

  74

  A Perfect Fit

  Bruises already fading, Humphrey sat behind Dr. Carlhagen’s mahogany desk, enjoying the fresh breeze blowing through the office windows. Earlier that morning, the monstrous desk had been removed from Athena and returned to its spot in the hacienda.

  “I hope you find your accommodations to your liking, Madam President,” he said. The woman sitting across from him was supposedly the most powerful person in the world. “Your Scion is being prepared now. We can conduct the transfer process at your pleasure.”

  The president wore a lot of makeup, so her resemblance to Leslie was not as remarkable as Humphrey’s had once been to Dr. Carlhagen. Ironically, Humphrey had still not escaped Dr. Carlhagen’s legacy. Now he inhabited the exact same body as Dr. Carlhagen had.

  He accepted it. Because he accepted living as preferable to death. It didn’t hurt that he had Vaughan’s face. And he put that charm to good use with the president. Of course, he also had to do his old Dr. Carlhagen impersonation. But this would be the last time. Surely.

  “I don’t see any reason to delay,” the president said. “I’m looking forward to being young again.”

  “Let’s go then.” They left the hacienda, escorted by four security guards, all wearing sunglasses, and presumably hiding automatic weapons under their coats.

  The president enjoyed the blossoms of the bougainvillea hedgerows. “Why are so many of these crushed?”

  Humphrey chose not to tell the truth, that Sensei had run them down with the school bus. “A mishap with the campus Jeep. Nothing more.”

  They finished their walk and headed to the medical ward. The transfer machine had also been returned to its old spot. Miss Dayspring—the meek woman who had once been Senator Bentilius’s private nurse—had been brought in specifically to pose as Dr. Carlhagen’s assistant. She was assured she wouldn’t have to say anything.

  “Would you like to meet your Scion?” Humphrey asked. “Some people do, some people don’t.”

  “Oh, yes! It’s always good to inspect the merchandise, don’t you think?”

  The short hall from the main ward to the transfer room was flanked by holding rooms. Humphrey knew them well. He’d once been imprisoned in one. After that, he had held prisoners in them.

  Leslie was in the first one on the left. He made a great show of jingling his keychain, unlocking the door, and pushing it in. Leslie stood inside, wearing a hospital gown and a pleasant smile.

  Humphrey leaned into the president and whispered, “Obviously, she doesn’t know.”

  Two security guards rushed forward to pat Leslie down. She was unarmed.

  “It’s like looking in a mirror to the past,” the president said, marveling at Leslie’s lovely youth. She chatted with Leslie about nothing, the weather on the island, what her classes were like, how fast she could run a kilometer.

  She was satisfied with Leslie’s answers. She pinched Leslie’s arms and eyed her legs. “It sure will be good to be limber again.” She grinned at Humphrey. “Looks like a perfect fit. Let’s do it.”

  Humphrey refrained from shaking his head in disbelief. Hadn’t he just told the woman that Leslie didn’t know she was about to be overwritten? And yet here the president was, blurting out statements like that.

  Fortunately, Leslie caught the president’s mistake and had the presence to compose her face into an expression of confusion.

  The president paused a beat, then broke into laughter. She turned away from Leslie, giving Humphrey an apologetic look. She returned to the hallway. Humphrey followed. “I’ll summon the nurse.”

  They entered the transfer room. It was perfectly spotless and smelled of chemicals. They waited for a few minutes for Miss Dayspring to escort Leslie into the room and make a fuss over testing her pulse and blood pressure.

  It was all theater. “Just a few tests, my dear,” Humphrey said to Leslie in his best Dr. Carlhagen manner. “We want to see if perhaps you and the president are distant relations.”

  Leslie’s face brightened an
d she said “oh” like an ignoramus. She was laying it on a bit thick, Humphrey thought. She got onto the table as instructed, submitted herself to being strapped down by Miss Dayspring, and rolled into the transfer machine.

  Humphrey motioned to the other cot. The president hesitated and looked to her security guards. One stepped forward and sketched a snappy bow. “Dr. Sanderson checked this out upon our arrival. He reviewed all the documentation, spoke at length with the AI, and has total confidence in Dr. Carlhagen’s operation here.”

  Humphrey suppressed the snicker rising in his throat. The doctor had been casual at best in reviewing their protocols. Especially once Humphrey had hinted that the doctor might be eligible for a Scion of his own.

  The president went to the cot and lay down. “Are the straps truly necessary?”

  “It helps prevent involuntary contractions during the transfer. Your body has to stay very still. But don’t worry. I’ve been through the process myself, as you can see. There is no pain. In forty minutes, you’ll wake up full of vigor and young as the morning.”

  Miss Dayspring moved to strap the president down, but a security guard pushed her aside and did it himself.

  “Are you comfortable, Madam President?” Humphrey asked.

  “Quite.”

  Humphrey helped the man position the cot to place the president’s head and shoulders beneath the transfer machine wheel. Velle was in charge of the facility now, but it manifested a holo similar to Madam LaFontaine’s old Greta persona. “Scion and Progenitor match is nominal. Suggest immediate transfer.”

  Humphrey explained to the president that this was a very good sign.

  “Let’s do it,” she said.

  75

  Nightrise

  The chopper lifted off from the Scion School quad and flew away into the distance. The three other patrol choppers that served as the president’s flying security squadron flew away with it. Jacey stood on the grass, silently wishing Leslie luck on her new adventure. Humphrey emerged from dining hall with Livy by his side. Miss Dayspring came out of the medical ward. Dante and Meow Meow appeared from the dojo.

  They gathered on the quad, sharing grim looks.

  “It had to be done,” Jacey said. “It was the only way to assure our safety going forward.” She smiled at Meow Meow. “It was a great idea, Kathryne.”

  Meow Meow smiled. “Now everything rests on Leslie’s shoulders. Do you think she can pull it off?”

  “She has a few advantages. She’s fearless, selfless, and she has an AI in her pocket.”

  That last bit was a bit of an exaggeration. What she had in her pocket was a tablet that provided direct access to the real President of the North American Republic. Not the actual flesh-and-blood one. Keeping humans prisoner—especially presidents—did not interest Jacey in the slightest. Instead, Velle had retained a copy of Annabelle Rochelle and installed her on a server. Annabelle lived—for now—on a simulated St. Vitus, where she would be allowed to remain on the condition she advised Leslie.

  For the next few months, Leslie—still fully intact—would be an imposter president. The world was about to be amazed by the president’s spiritual awakening. Leslie was going to present a new vision of leadership to the world. Her term wouldn’t last long. The plan was for Leslie to shake loose funding for the refugees in the Tent City of Kansas, and for all the other places of the world where the sick and impoverished struggled. After that, she would turn her attention to finding a successor.

  Jacey still hadn’t managed to convince Ollie to run for the presidency, but there was time. Jacey wasn’t going accept only four firm “no ways” from the woman before she gave up. She would give up when she got a “yes.”

  Humphrey’s radio squawked. Summer barked, “Are you coming or not?”

  They went to a Jeep, drove the long beautiful drive to the docks, and boarded Athena.

  As Summer navigated them to sea, Jacey and Humphrey stood at the bow, enjoying the Caribbean breezes sweeping across them. Behind them, in the navigation bridge, Elias stood close to Summer, where he planned to stay for the rest of his life.

  In a stateroom on the first deck, Meow Meow applied her makeup and put her blue wig firmly in place. In the past two days she’d written lyrics for twenty new songs. Her next collection would be her masterpiece. She was thinking of retiring after that. Maybe getting into politics.

  In the stateroom next door, Dante lounged on a cot and dumped his ATR pills into his palm. He had twenty remaining. He chewed his lip as he calculated how many days of life he could wring out of them. There was hope, though. Velle had tracked down one of Dr. Carlhagen’s many companies, a pharmaceutical in Minneapolis. It was their best lead yet. The company had a patented process for making custom nanite drugs. Just the kind of thing that could make ATR unique to a single individual.

  A few hundred kilometers away, the other Scions were boarding another ship at the docks of Mr. Justin’s Island. Mother Tyeesha kept a sharp eye out to make sure everyone walked aboard in orderly fashion. She smiled at Ollie Montgomery, who had arrived promising to take the Scions somewhere safe, where carbo hunters and rabid media hounds wouldn’t dare to tread.

  Mother Tyeesha had bonded instantly with Ms. Montgomery, and despite her advanced years, Tyeesha was eager to get on to a new phase of her life. She would stay with her precious children, and she would build a new school, far beyond the fence. There, Scion and refugee would learn together as brother and sister.

  Wanda stood there too, deep in conversation with Ollie. She had been researching the sickness, had dived deep into the biology of the bacteria that caused it. There had to be a cure, Wanda was insisting. There simply had to be.

  In the Tent City of Kansas, Captain Wilcox and his new recruits patrolled the sad streets in protective gear. None of the residents had the energy to make much trouble, but Wilcox was not satisfied with the state of the place. Ollie Montgomery had hired him, given him the mission to create order. And so he would.

  Back at the bow of Athena, Jacey snaked her arm around Humphrey’s waist and fit her lips to his. She sank into the kiss, letting go of her anger at him. The first night of safety had not been as pleasant as she’d hoped. Humphrey had told her about his “mistake” with Wanda.

  But these lips had not kissed Wanda.

  The past couldn’t be undone. And Jacey reasoned that if she could forgive Dante his crimes, she could forgive Humphrey his mistake. “I guess I should mention that Dante kissed me once,” she said when she finally came up for air.

  The look of horror on his face made her splutter with laughter. “I didn’t do it on purpose. He sort of just did it. He had to. It was at Vin’s house and he didn’t want anyone to see my famous face.”

  Humphrey didn’t look very convinced. That was fine with Jacey. She wasn’t that convinced about his so-called mistake, either. But she let it go. Humphrey had been free to go off to Wanda, but he had stayed.

  They stood close, arms around each other, watching the sun dip low in the west. She said, “There’s so much in this world to see and I want to see it all.”

  Humphrey stroked Jacey’s cheek with his thumb. “And someday, far in the future, we’ll actually see it, won’t we?”

  Jacey laughed. Humphrey knew her too well. He’d always known her. And he was right. All of that would wait.

  “Well,” she said, grinning, “there are still many people to save.”

  Livy ran up, breath heaving, smile catching the golden rays of sunset. “Did I miss it?”

  “No. This is the best part.” Jacey drew Livy between her and Humphrey, and they huddled together to watch the horizon turn golden, then pink, then violet.

  “It’s like night being born, isn’t it?” Livy said. “Nightrise, we should call it.”

  The last of the light eventually faded, and the stars took over their watch, but the three souls remained there long into the night.

  Together. At last.

  And Athena carried the Scions north, t
oward their great destiny.

  * * *

  The End of The Scion Chronicles

  Love strong heroines? Keep reading this ebook for the first three chapters of Thief of Sparks, the first book in an epic fantasy series by Eric Kent Edstrom: Starside Saga!

  NO WITNESSES

  The setup could not have been better. The man was alone, drunk, and carrying a fat purse on his belt. Even more intriguing, he had a sack slung over one shoulder.

  The streets, empty.

  Kila Sigh tried not to fidget. Father’s teaching played in her mind: “The life of a noisy thief is short and ends in humiliating fashion.”

  The darkness of the small hours of the morning pressed over Starside. Chimney smoke mingled with the perpetual autumn mist. The mercus streetlights—powered by acolytes somewhere far away—shined atop their steel poles at cross streets. The hard, white light glistened from the damp paving stones and made shadows all the deeper.

  That suited Kila and her brother, Wen, just fine. Wen muffled a wet cough into the crook of his elbow. Kila waited for him to recover. He tipped a flask to his lips and gasped. The sting of trezz hit her nose. It would soothe his cough, for a time. Not as well as Finta’s medicine. She listened as he capped the flask and returned it to his pocket. They needed coin for the medicine.

  “A lordling, ya think?” Kila whispered, not wanting to think about her older brother’s illness just now. “Or a merchant’s son?”

  Wen was little more than a lump of darkness beside her on this chandler’s rooftop. They huddled at the corner, watching the man they were going to rob stumble toward home.

  “He’s headed for the plaza,” Wen said, then wiped his sleeve across his lips. “Could be heading to Gristenside.”