Sonora IV

by G. F. Hellstern

  The tall, lanky man led him up a level and down a hallway to a small one-room gymnasium. He had almost stopped shivering by the time he stood in front of Ormand.

  Ormand knelt with one knee on a bench, lifting what looked like a ten-pound weight to his hip. The man’s bulging sides hung out of a stretched tank-top. Pale, hairy legs protruded from a pair of shorts before long white socks with two red stripes at the top took over from the knees down.

  “Mr. Ciro.” Ormand smiled and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel draped over his shoulder. “Welcome. How is my good friend, Mr. Apolino?”

  Mr. Ciro smiled. He had expected an entirely different tone to this reception. Surely Ormand had heard of Apolino’s plans for the Elite Guard? “Mr. Apolino sends his regards and hopes he finds you in good health.”

  “Good. I should pay him a visit one of these days.” Ormand returned his attention to his arm and the weight.

  Mr. Ciro fidgeted, wondering if he should give Ormand the message now, or wait for a better time. He decided to get it over with. Putting his hands in his pockets, he cleared his throat. “Um – I’m here to let you know – uh – Mr. Apolino will be sending a small contingent – er – peace force. That is – um – to help you keep the peace. . . .” Mr. Ciro rocked back on his heels and considered what he had just said. Perhaps his message hadn’t come out quite clearly. He decided to give it another try. “That is to say, he’s sending a company of Revisionist Guards to help with the situation in Sonora City.” Mr. Ciro smiled to himself. What could be plainer?

  Ormand smiled too. There was almost a light air about the man as he paused in his workout. “Yes, I heard about that.”

  Mr. Ciro relaxed. This would be more painless than he’d anticipated.

  “I also heard about your reports to the council. Dead bodies in the street, sicario and all that. He-he, you’re quite a writer.” Ormand looked up and into Mr. Ciro’s eyes. The ten-pound weight continued its rise and fall.

  Mr. Ciro almost detected a threat behind those eyes, but the chill starting down his spine was halted by the return of Ormand’s warm smile. “Anything else from Mr. Apolino?”

  Mr. Ciro swallowed. He’d almost forgotten to ask about the Trevinos. Mr. Apolino wanted a full report. “Uh, yes. One more thing, Mr. Apolino would like to know about your progress with the grandfather and the boy?”

  Ormand kept his eyes averted. “I’ll let Atlantos fill you in on that one.” Ormand grunted without looking up. “It was nice seeing you again.”

  Mr. Ciro felt his dismissal. It had gone smooth enough, more than he could have asked for, anyway.

  Atlantos spun on his heels and started back the way they had come. Mr. Ciro followed, hoping the man would give his report before they parted. Atlantos led him to the back door where Mr. Ciro saw his lorry waiting in the green courtyard. Atlantos turned and left, without a word.

  Standing on the doorstep, he wondered if demanding the status promised to him by Ormand was appropriate. Then he thought better of it. He boarded the lorry and looked back at the manor, surprised to see Ormand standing at the gymnasium window, watching him.

  Mr. Ciro smiled and waved. Ormand didn’t move or change the eager expression he wore under his dark eyebrows.

  Beyond the manor walls, Mr. Ciro noticed a large mound of dirt to his left. A worker with a shovel waved the lorry to a stop and leaned into the window.

  “Are you Mr. Ciro?”

  “Yes I am.” Mr. Ciro felt lighthearted at his ‘escape’ from the manor. He planned to catch an early ship back to Toreón and wondered how soon it left. Not that he had anything to do on Toreón, Sonora IV just made him feel continually out of sorts – too much jungle.

  “Master Omri hoped you could proofread this writing, here.” The workman pointed to a granite stone.

  Curiosity got the better of the executive assistant. “Has Ormand bragged about my writing ability?” He climbed out of the lorry and followed the worker to the large grey rock at the head of an open ditch. “Well, to be honest, I’m really only an amateur editor.” Mr. Ciro chuckled. He bent over to read the engraved letters with a slight squint.

  “Right here.” The man pointed.

  Mr. Ciro read, “Dedicated to the tireless efforts of our family Parliamentary Agent and his career.” He was almost touched until he read the last line, “May he rest in peace, Rufus A. Ciro.”

  For some reason the words just didn’t sink in. Rufus barely noticed the shovel as it crashed across his head. He fell into the grave unconscious. He couldn’t feel the 24 cubic feet of Sonora IV soil crush him to death shovel-full by shovel-full.

  Chapter 11, Invasion

  Josué dreamed, or at least it felt like a dream. He knew his body slept somewhere in Garvin’s bunkroom down in Sonora City, but from where he stood he could see stars, and stars like he had never seen in the city. A stiff breeze blew against his back, lifting him.

  Something rustled to his right. Elder John from the native village stood in the air beside him, his blue robe flowing around his legs.

  Josué smiled at the Elder then turned back to the sky. Elder John’s hand reached up, pointing to a pinpoint perched at the Galaxy’s edge. “Your father’s fathers came from that star.”

  Josué squinted. Small was the word that came to mind, a mere blink among the others. He wondered if he would be able to find it the next time he looked.

  “There were sacred sands there, long ago.” Sorrow echoed in the Elder’s voice.

  “What happened to them?”

  “The people expanded, the sands were divided. Factions formed.”

  “Did the sands die?” Josué asked.

  “In some parts they died. In others – worse things happened. They vied for control over the minds of the people.”

  Josué glanced at the Elder’s grave face. “Will that happen here?”

  Elder John turned. Their eyes met. “The Omri Family has already brought warring factions to Sonora IV. The situation in the city is an example of what is to come.” The man looked determined as he stared at the stars again. “The future of our planet depends on you, Josué.”

  “You mean – on me and my generation?”

  “I mean on you and other elders like you.”

  Josué looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Elder John couldn’t mean Josué was an elder, could he?

  “Yes, the sacred sands have chosen you, Josué. You have been given the anointing of an elder.”

  “I am an elder, then?” The sound of his own voice startled him awake.

  Josué closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep. He wanted to ask more questions, hear more about the sacred sands. He needed to find out what it meant to be an elder. What was he supposed to do? How could the future of Sonora IV depend on him?

  He sat up.

  In the darkness, the soft snores of the other cell members rumbled around him – Garvin’s and Germán’s men. Garvin’s cell had been as large as Germán’s, but in a smaller building. They had had to pack it in. Every bunk was full, and those on watch waited for the next free bed.

  Scratching his head, he gave in to the fact that he was awake and wouldn’t likely get back to sleep. Sitting on the edge of his bunk, he considered. It would be better to relieve someone than to waste a good mattress.

  He put his boots on and walked into the brightness of the hallway. Passing the women’s quarters, he almost collided with Felisa.

  “Hi. Can’t sleep, either?”

  She shook her head, eyes squinting into the bright light.

  “I’m going to take a watch, want to come?”

  Sure. She smiled and put her hand in his. It was warm.

  Even after his vivid dream of Elder John, he had forgotten to use the link. He wondered if he should tell her about the dream, but then wondered what he would say.

  They climbed the stairs in silence. On the roof they found a pair of guards who gladly gave up their post. Just like that, Josué and F
elisa were alone – something that hadn’t happened since they’d entered the city.

  He looked up at the night sky, trying to remember more about his dream. “Which star did the settlers come from?”

  She took his finger and pointed it to a low one on the horizon. There. Her hand felt smooth and soft.

  He focused on the star. It was yellow, like he remembered from his dream. He shook his head. “It seems so insignificant – hard to believe.”

  “Hard to believe what?”

  But Josué didn’t know. His ancestors had come from that star, small though it was.

  He shrugged and breathed the night air. It carried her scent, reminding him of their time in the jungle. Her hair hung around her shoulders, reflecting the silvery light.

  Walking to the edge of the building, he looked out onto the street. The lamp-lit concrete was silent. The incessant war on the streets seemed to have taken a momentary pause.

  “Do you feel like something is about to happen?”

  Her shoulder brushed against his. One of her curls tickled his forearm. Out of the corner of his eye he couldn’t help but noticed her bottom lip. It looked so round and soft. Her skin felt cool against his. He didn’t wait for an answer, but eased onto his elbow, turned to her and kissed her full on the lips.

  A lifetime passed in that moment. Every detail etched its way into his memory . . . the tickle of her breath . . . the smoothness of her arms . . . the motion of her mouth.

  A noise like dull thunder broke into the night, rumbling inside his chest before giving way to a deafening roar. Josué looked up. The white tail of a massive star cruiser passed over them. He squinted at the passing bulk. Hot wind blew against his face. One second it was there, the next it had disappeared over the mountains. Then lights, dust and engine noise erupted, outlining the entire north ridge.

  What was that? Felisa asked, her eyes searching his.

  “Whatever it was, it just landed.” Josué turned to the mountains, but they were quiet, as if nothing had happened. We better get down and let Germán and Garvin know.

  When they reached the watch center, it was alive with activity. The two cell leaders leaned over a terminal.

  “Are you sure that’s what it was?” Garvin demanded.

  “I’ll replay it for you.” The technician typed a few keys then sat back. “See, you can make out the bay door here. And, there is the official crest of the Parliamentary Guard.”

  Garvin stood up, holding his chin.

  “Have you heard anything from our guys on Toreón?” Germán asked.

  Garvin bit his thumb, staring at the image of the bay door. “Nothing.”

  Josué took a step back. The cell’s been alerted. We better get back to our post before they notice it vacant.

  Felisa grabbed his hand and they made their way back to the roof.

  Several hours later, staring into the morning sun, Josué held Felisa, their arms intertwined as they watched a column of galactic troops in full battle-tech gear glide over the mountain ridge. Nine-foot exoskeletons held larger-than-life blaster cannons across armored chests. The high-pitched noise of compressed hydraulics gradually surrounded the city. Josué looked into Felisa’s frightened eyes and wished they were back in the jungle.

  Chapter 12, The Jail

  In watch center, Josué sat down to wait. Germán and Garvin leaned over a three-dimensional image of the city. Garvin was speaking. “ . . . We aren’t even sure if they will attack, or whose side they will be on,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  Germán cleared his throat. “They’ll be on Ormand’s side. You can be sure of that.”

  “They’ll be on their own side, at least according to the old man,” Garvin corrected.

  “But they’ll attack us first. We’re weaker. They’ve got to get us out of the way before they can work on Ormand’s group.” Germán glanced up. “Josué. Your grandfather wants you to stop by the jail. Do you remember how to get there?”

  He nodded, silently wondering if the two cell leaders were right about the Syndicate being weaker. He’d been told it was the strongest force in the Galaxy.

  “Great. Find us when you’re finished.”

  Josué ran down the stairs, wondering if he should tell Felisa where he was going. She was on her way to her room when they parted and was probably asleep by now. He decided he’d better get to his grandfathers as soon as he could.

  Jumping on Jaco’s viper in the basement of the apartment building, he kick-started it. “Spoils of war,” Germán had said the day he tossed him the keys to him. “Besides, Jaco won’t be using it anymore.”

  The morning streets of Sonora City were vacant. The sun’s rays angled between the buildings painting zebra patterns of light against his eyelids.

  At the traffic light, he slowed to a stop before realizing he was the only one on the street. Two intersections later he stopped obeying traffic signals and gunned his engine to the restaurant. The whine of his viper echoed off the buildings, the only sound to be heard. Tension hung around him like heat-lightning.

  The jail walls rose over him, casting a cool, grey shadow. He parked below the sign of the woman eating grapes. Her alluring smile still played on her lips in spite of the danger infiltrating the city.

  Josué ran through the doors and into the kitchen. “Alberto,” he called, but there was no answer. He raced down the stairway and into the giant refrigerator. Finding the lever, he opened the passageway between buildings.

  The unfinished rock walls were rough against his fingers as he made his way to the ladder. He remembered to move as quietly as possible.

  Before he could lift his hand to tap out the secret pattern, the metal door slid open. Hernan’s anxious eyes met his.

  His grandfather’s wrinkled clothes hung around his wiry frame. Grey wisps of hair stood out at straight angles. “Come in, come in,” his grandfather said in a low voice.

  Josué was surprised at the look of uncertainty etched into the elder man’s face. The jail cell had a stale, hospital-like scent to it.

  Trembling fingers passed through Hernan’s silver hair. He stepped over to the desk, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “We haven’t much time, Josué. Sit down, please.”

  Josué obeyed; a little bewildered by his grandfather’s apparent anxiety.

  “You’ve seen the Galactic troops, I presume?”

  He nodded

  “Good. Germán said you took watch last night.”

  “Felisa and I were on the roof.”

  “Those are Apolino’s men – the Galactic Parliamentary Guard. They’ve come here to take over.”

  Josué didn’t know if he was supposed to be surprised by this. Hadn’t his grandfather predicted it?

  “First, they will move into the city.” He paused. “Then they will move into the Family Manors, specifically Omri Manor.”

  Josué smiled. “Just like you planned. Ormand will get what’s coming to him, like you said.”

  “Yes, but . . . .” His grandfather wiped his face. “The timing is wrong. Apolino acted faster than either Ormand or I anticipated.”

  Josué stiffened. How could his grandfather know what Ormand had anticipated?

  “Don’t look surprised, Josué. I speak with Ormand. You’ll speak to him too, when you’re the master of the house.” Hernan placed a knee against his desk and crossed his arms.

  Josué crossed his own arms and sat back. Would he ever be able to speak with Ormand? Perhaps with a blaster.

  “Apolino is after the Trevino wine. If he defeats us in the city, he could succeed in pushing the Syndicate out of the picture.” His grandfather looked at him as if searching for the effect of his words.

  Josué spoke up, “That would be bad, right?”

  “The Syndicate is the lifeline of the Trevino Family. If it falls, you fall,” his grandfather’s jaw hardened.

  Josué furrowed his brow. “You mean we fall. Right?”

  “My time is limited, Josué. Apolin
o knows where I am. He won’t wait to eliminate me. I stand in his way, as do you. When I am gone, he’ll be after you.”

  Josué leaned forward. “Don’t talk like that. You’ll survive this.” Josué searched his grandfather’s face. Something told him his grandfather was right, though he rejected the very thought of it.

  Hernan smiled a thin smile. “I hope you are right.” He reached under his desk and produced a familiar-looking silver case and placed it on the desk between them. “There are two things I can leave you with, Josué. The first is this, Enrique’s weapon.”

  Josué thought back to the night he fired that weapon. The look in his father’s eyes had been so proud.

  Hernan opened the case. Josué looked inside. Shiny pieces fit into snug, cut foam. Diagrams and schemas were folded neatly on top.

  His grandfather closed the case and pushed it across the desk to Josué’s eager hands. “It’s important you have it. The Syndicate never got satisfactory results. You might be able to do better.” His grandfather looked down at the case with a mixture of sorrow and determination.

  Frowning, he placed it on the floor. He could make it work, he was sure of it.

  “The only other thing I can leave you with is this piece of advice . . . .”

  Josué sat back, wishing his grandfather would at least smile.

  “When your father wanted to marry your mother, your grandmother – rest her soul – bitterly disagreed with the match. I on the other hand saw what your father saw, a beautiful, strong woman who came from a proud and resourceful people. I can’t emphasize this enough, do not be afraid to go to the native people – your people, when you need their help. They may be able to pull you through what you are about to face.” His grandfather sat back and pushed his chair away from the desk.

  Setting both his feet on the floor, Josué blinked. He couldn’t shake the feeling his grandfather was saying goodbye.