by J. J. Holden
Michael nodded, but Ethan saw that his lips were pursed. “She leads the Confederation. She makes the policy, and it’s our job to execute it.”
Ethan snorted and said, “I’d rather execute the prisoner.”
“So would I,” he said, “but for now, that ship has sailed. We have a job to do. Whether we like it or not, I expect you to do your job, and do it well.”
“Of course. And I do trust Cassy’s judgment, but do you really think this wild plan to win over an enemy combatant is going to work?”
Michael’s face went stony, which it always did when he thought someone was being insubordinate or disrespecting a superior officer, and Cassy was the Commander-in-Chief of the Confederation, as its chancellor. At least he didn’t look angry, Ethan noted.
Michael replied, “She certainly made it sound compelling. It may or may not work, but if it does, we’re far better off than we would be if we simply put a bullet in him. Besides, if he stays uncooperative, she will eventually let me apply the old, tried-but-true methods of getting information out of him.”
Ethan said, “Yes, but if her plan works, then it opens up some fantastic opportunities for—”
His HAM radio crackled to life, interrupting him with its loud squawk. He wheeled his chair over to the radio. “Oh goody, incoming traffic.” He plugged the stage mic into his laptop and set it down in front of the HAM radio unit, then picked up the handset and said, “Go for traffic.”
The radio squawked some more, and Ethan watched as the microphone recorded the noises into his laptop, where the binary code was compiled and then decrypted. The encryption on it confirmed the traffic was from New America, which drew his attention immediately. “It’s from Taggart,” he said, looking at Michael.
“Yeah? What’s he say?”
Ethan glanced at the monitor and watched the hourglass spinning as his laptop went to work deciphering the file. “Damn, man, give it a chance to decipher. It’s a file, not a voice transmission.”
They sat in silence for twenty seconds while his laptop chugged away. When it dinged, task complete, Michael leaned forward to eagerly await the verdict.
Ethan opened the file, anxious to find out what was within. Usually Taggart sent text files, which downloaded and decoded quickly. A few seconds at most. This had taken nearly half a minute.
“Weird. They’re graphics.” He double clicked the first one, and saw a picture of Jaz and Choony standing in the market, their faces circled. The next was an overhead shot, clearly from a satellite, while the third was a typed .txt document. He double clicked that and skimmed it, then let out a low whistle. “Michael, come look at this.”
He got up out of his chair so Michael could sit to read the file, and read over his shoulder, checking it out in more detail. It was an Intel report from Taggart, relating some rather horrific recent events with Jazoony, but with reassurances that they would both recover. Physically, at least.
The Intel report concluded that the invaders were receiving outside help from somebody with access to satellites. There was a query as to whether Ethan might have inadvertently delivered such assistance to them. He knew damn well that he hadn’t, however; this was the work of Watcher One. He had no doubt in his mind.
After Michael finished reading it more carefully, he continued to sit motionless, staring at the monitor.
The seconds ticked by, and Ethan eventually said, “I know it’s rough. Are you all right, Michael?”
Michael nodded, his jaw clenched tightly. His knuckles, wrapped around the chair’s armrests, had turned white from the force of his grip. “Save your concern for Jaz and Choony. I’m simply trying to restrain myself from going out topside and eliminating our invader guest in a rather spectacular fashion.”
Ethan didn’t respond. There was nothing he could say that could make the situation better, so he simply rested his hand on Michael’s right shoulder.
He really, really wished that Taggart had sent that POW days earlier so they would have had the chance to get familiar with him before receiving this news. Or that Taggart had waited another week so emotions in Clanholme could level out. Damn Taggart and his timing.
* * *
Choony sat in his recliner. He had it fully extended, so that he was almost lying down. It was the most comfortable position he’d found, given his injuries.
The pain in his hands and feet from his shattered metatarsal and metacarpal bones was excruciating, and the surgery to set and pin some of those broken bones before putting on his partial casts didn’t help.
His ribs, however, were the worst. They hurt every time he took a breath. It felt like someone was stabbing him repeatedly with a fiery knife. Taking shallow breaths helped, but then he had to breathe faster. The pain from that dwarfed the others.
Frankly, his favorite time of the day was after he received his injections of morphine and Dilaudid—the hazy sleep that followed had at least relieved his pain for a while. He wasn’t due for more drugs in his IV for another couple of hours, however.
The only thing that made his agony bearable—and worth it—was the sight of Jaz sitting on the couch nearby, alive and well.
She was the most beautiful thing in the world, he mused, even as damaged as she had been, even as damaged as she was now. The new blemishes to her aura only inspired a deeply protective instinct in him, not revulsion or pity. The last thing in the world that Jaz needed now was pity; things happen, and pity was the reaction of those who resisted life’s events. To Choony, they simply existed, and he would move on as best he could, and help her to do so as well.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, although her voice sounded flat and lifeless. She had been in the same spot the last time he went to sleep, just as she had been when he woke up a few minutes ago.
He thought about shrugging, but decided not to risk the pain. He said, “I was just marveling at your beauty. Even now, as hurt as we are, I prefer the sight of you to the most perfect lotus flowers.” It wasn’t a lie, of course, because he never intentionally lied—the disruption to his inner harmony simply wasn’t worth it—but it was an omission of sorts.
A faint smile appeared on her face, but it was halfhearted at best and never did reach her eyes. Normally, she would have lit up brightly, hearing those words from him. There was nothing normal about her anymore, after what she had been through, and he wondered what the new ‘normal’ Jaz would look like when her inner wounds had healed.
“That’s sweet, Choon Choon. But I don’t feel especially lovely, and definitely not perfect.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Choony could hear the frustration in that sigh, but there was nothing he could do to fix her. Nothing so fast and easy as waving a magic wand, but he would keep looking for other, more realistic options.
“I’m only glad that I found you. It was worth it.”
She looked away, then, jaw clenched. “It was too high a price. Totally too high.”
“No. It would have been worth it even if they had killed me, just so that I could spend my last moments with you. And now, free again, life continues. I will never leave your side, Jaz.”
When her gaze clicked to him, he met her eyes without flinching. He had told the truth, and there was no shame in that. No awkwardness, not for him. He only hoped that, however incapable she might be right now of accepting the truth of his words, her spirit would at least feel their truth. He thought of love and energy pouring from himself into her through that gaze, even though it felt silly. His mind rejected the very idea of something like that working, but his heart knew he had to try.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and her reply. She almost jumped from her seat, startled, then groaned from a sharp pain; she leaned forward, bending over with her arms crossed over her lower belly.
Her voice tight with pain, she called out, “Come in.”
The front door opened, and he could see one of the soldiers who guarded them was at the door, holding it open. He motioned to s
omeone just out of sight.
In walked Doug Holloway, New America’s Secretary of State. As always, he was immaculately dressed in an expensive suit, this one a dark blue. He nodded in greeting as he saw Jaz and Choony, and walked toward them without another word to the soldier who had let him in. Choony noticed that he carried a small, decorative paper bag in his left hand.
When he had crossed through the entryway and into the living room, he beamed a well-rehearsed smile at both of them, reminding Choony of a shark. It was an apt comparison.
Doug said, “Good day to you both, heroes of New America! I am so thrilled to see that you are both alive, and I’m told you will make a full recovery. So how have they treated you since your return? I’m told you received the finest medical care.”
Jaz simply stared at him, so Choony replied stiffly for them both, “Thank you.”
Doug set the paper bag down on the table in front of Jaz, unbuttoned his suit coat, then sat in the other recliner. He sat ramrod straight. “I feel bad that I neglected to give you a proper housewarming gift when you first moved here, but I brought something to rectify that. Just a little something from me to you, in recognition of your deeds and your triumph.”
Jaz shifted her gaze to the paper bag, face expressionless, but didn’t move or respond.
Choony smiled warmly, feeling somewhat better about the man’s thoughtfulness for having brought a gift.
Doug continued, “You know, you two have created quite a stir in the capital. Everyone is talking about what happened. Politicians and citizens alike have a lot to say.”
Jaz looked at Doug. “I was under the impression that the politicians governing New America are its citizens. Was I misinformed?”
Doug smiled, his eyes crinkling. “No, of course we are citizens. I just mean the everyday people, the ones without the training and experience to properly run things. What happened to you both has caused quite a bit of fear. I believe that’s on account of the fact that we have no wall between us and the wastelands to our immediate north. I’m sure you’ll agree with me that it would be much better if we had a way of controlling the traffic leading in and out of civilized Hoboken.”
Choony shrugged, ignoring the pain that he knew it would cause. “Actually, I don’t believe a wall would have helped us. Jaz’s kidnappers were apparently in Hoboken on legitimate business. Maybe some system of identification might have helped. Showing papers, perhaps.”
Face neutral, Choony peered intently at Doug, gauging his reaction.
“Great minds think alike, they say. Yes, that is precisely what I have been pushing for with our president for several months, now.”
“You think that would have made a difference?”
“If I had my way, I believe this would have been prevented entirely.”
“What has Taggart said about it?” Choony asked. He hoped he was right about Taggart…
“Our president is more concerned with other issues right now, quite rightly, and he has much on his plate. That’s why I was selected to be the Secretary of State, of course, so that I could help him with these day to day small decisions.”
“So, did he say no, or did he not yet reply?”
Doug frowned. “I don’t think he gave it proper consideration. So, my hands are a little tied for the moment. I’ve been organizing a grassroots campaign to raise awareness of the benefits of such a system, though, hoping our president will listen better to the voice of his citizens than to one humble servant like me.”
Choony always had a bad feeling about Doug. The man was a perfect example of the old world system, and how he had survived the Dying Times was a mystery. The world had an opportunity now to move beyond the petty, zero-sum political games of the past and truly focus on the welfare of its citizens. Doug Holloway was definitely not that proper leadership. It hadn’t taken long for him to show his true colors.
Doug continued, “I know you, of all people, will understand the wisdom of this. We have to protect our citizens. We have to keep out those who would harm us, just as we should have done with those who wished to harm your lovely, very-capable fellow ambassador, here.” He looked to Jaz, giving her a warm smile, but instead of smiling back, she rolled her eyes. He looked back to Choony.
Choony slowly shook his head. He could hardly believe what Doug had said, and yet he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. People like Doug were everywhere in every culture, he knew; Doug’s soul was unenlightened, and in the end, it would drag him down. He was the sort whose Karma would be reborn again and again, never finding sanctity in the Peaceful Lands. And there was nothing Choony could do about it, for the world was full of dogs like him.
Choony felt suddenly exhausted. The effort of this conversation had drained him too much to care for diplomacy any longer.
Choony opened his mouth to speak, but Jaz cut him off. “If your goal is to limit people’s movements as you increase your control over them, we won’t be a part that. I despise the fact our tragedy would be used as a catalyst for yet more government control.”
Doug’s smile melted from his face. “More of a government might have saved millions of lives.”
“No,” Jaz said. “Over the last two years, all the people who once relied on the government are gone. They starved, or they killed one another. More of what killed them isn’t needed. Only those who could think for themselves, who could adapt to the changing situation… only they survived.”
Doug leaned toward Jaz with a pleading look on his face, but when Jaz clenched her jaw, Doug halted. He took a deep breath. “Listen, you can’t know that because, after the EMPs, there was no government. The old one failed its duties. We have the chance to make a new one, a stronger one. We can save lives!”
“You can create a dictatorship, Doug, but in this lifetime, you will never create the kind of big government we once had. Those glory days are thankfully gone.”
Doug’s firm control of his friendly mask slipped for an instant, but he quickly recovered. He kept that mask plastered on his face like a mannequin. “You wound me, miss. You misinterpret my motives. There really are people out there who would harm us, people who would harm you, as you have seen, to your sorrow. The biggest shame out of all of this tragedy is that it could have been prevented. Who wouldn’t give up an inch of freedom for a mile of security?”
“There’s no inches with your kind, Doug. You’re a parasite who killed its host and is starving for power again. You just want to feed off America’s corpse.”
“Dammit! Why can’t you see what I do? A better future. Sure, less freedom—the freedom to starve, to get killed by your neighbors. You—”
Jaz snapped, “I won’t help you kill this new America. I sincerely hope that wasn’t the only real purpose of your visit, because that would be, like, a total waste of all our time. You need to leave, Doug. Choony is exhausted, and you aren’t helping him.”
For once, Doug completely lost his famous composure and his face grew slack with shock, jaw dropped as he stared at her incredulously. Then he cleared his throat, cheeks flushing, and replied, “Ordinarily, I’d have you two disrespectful little shits on the first wagon back to the Confederation, authors of your very own diplomatic incident. At the end of the day, your so-called Confederation is nothing more than a state within New America. I had hoped that some good could come from the evil that happen to you, that you might help me prevent this sort of thing from ever happening again. I’ll be back in a couple of days to see how you’re doing. When I return, I will expect you to have remembered your mission here, your role, and your damn manners.”
Choony said, “You sure like to hear the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”
Doug stood and re-buttoned his suit coat, then straightened his tie. Chin in the air, he gave a stiff, slight bow and left without another word, closing the front door behind him.
Jaz turned to Choony and stared.
Part of him wanted to explain the error of what she had done, but he could see from the fire
in her eyes that this was the wrong time. Instead, he focused on her well-being. She was obviously out of sorts, and given the trauma of what she had recently gone through, he had no way of truly knowing how deep her anger ran.
He smiled at her and said, “I do appreciate your honesty, Jaz. Given what he said, I’ll support whatever you want to do about it.”
His words had an immediate effect on her, as the reddish hue and heat left her face and the corners of her lips lost their snarl. He would never lie, not to anyone and especially not to her, but what he said was true. Perhaps that feeling of having somebody at her back, someone to keep her safe, helped offset the rage she had felt at the threat Doug represented.
Or perhaps he was overanalyzing it, and he should just be happy that she had calmed down. He was a bit surprised at how radically different Jaz’s speech had been from her usual way of talking, though. That was new.
* * *
Jwa slowly paced just outside of the wagon. They had attached a long runner chain to his collar, which allowed him some limited freedom of movement. Every step hurt, his muscles cramping after having been cooped up inside the wagon for so long with no opportunity to stretch. He felt his muscles slowly begin to unwind as he walked back and forth. He knew from experience that they would soon be more or less recovered, yet it would be a day or two before his full strength returned.
As he hobbled to and fro, he carefully examined his surroundings. He didn’t even want to think of escaping yet, both due to his condition and because he had no idea where he was. He believed they had traveled west, rather than north or south, which might place him somewhere in Clan territory. He couldn’t be sure, so until he got a better sense of where he was, he wouldn’t run. Not as long as they weren’t torturing him, at least. If that happened, all bets were off.
The first thing he noticed were the guards. They wore field camouflage, and the emblem on their hats identified them as U.S. Marines. At his best, he would be evenly matched against them one-on-one, but there were four here watching his every move. They stayed out of striking distance, not that he would have attacked any of them. Not here, not now.
