Son of Sedonia (27 page)

The rush of a new idea crept up his back. His heart thrummed in his chest.
No...it’s stupid...it’s so stupid.
The thoughts snapped under the weight of the idea. Matteo held down the delete key. The rust-colored images of Rasalla disappeared. His outstretched finger hunted for new letters.

“S-E-D-O-,” hundreds of matches filled the screen, all of them with the same heading.
Sedonia City.
They waited for him. Mesa Park, Sedonia Civic Arena, The Plateau Convention Center, and...

The Kuwahara Commons!
Nerve center of the Inner Ring. You could buy anything there. Food, clothes, medicine, cars, drinks, and any kind of entertainment you wanted. Some of his favorite buildings in the skyline were rooted in the Commons. The Hotel Equinox with its gigantic, tilted glass dome glistening in the afternoon sun. DAGA Technical College pouring legions of students from its gentle high arch into the surrounding plaza. And Seraphim Station. One of the four main superway hubs in the City, connecting the Outer, Inner, and Center Rings with a webbed network of rails.

Enough people around to keep hidden, and the rest of the City’s just a train-ride away.

He tapped the button. The Zeus puffed its attitude jets and changed course in a tilting zero-G roll. Matteo went cross-eyed for a second, watching the Earth flip underneath him. A 3D projection in the canopy drew a glowing path over the curve of the planet. The Zeus locked into it. Fired thrusters. In seconds, the smooth ride became a shaky one. And as the star-filled black gave way to blue, long fingers of flame started to lap at the nose and canopy. Everything outside disappeared behind a shroud of red heat.

His body slicked with sweat beneath the Themis jumpsuit as he gripped the flight sticks and focused on the brightened bubble display. Barely readable in the chaos. And on top of it all, the wheezing. He hadn’t noticed it start. Each breath heaved from his chest as though he were pinned under a concrete slab. He took each dry gasp slower than the last. It smoothed as the fire vanished and the shaking stopped, replaced by the high-pitch drone of the engines. Deep blue sky.

He’d passed through hell and into heaven. Soaring over violet clouds in a sunset sea.
Like a bird.
He licked his lips and hit the icon on screen marked “Manual”. The Zeus lurched. He tilted the flight stick to the left and the ship rocked hard, shoving him against the side of the cockpit. He corrected quickly and laughed like a lunatic, triggering a few more throaty coughs. A completely different game than flying in zero-G. Throat cleared, he took a deep breath. Pushed the stick hard to the right.

“OOOHHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIIIT—HAHAHAHAHAAA!”

The force buried him in the seat, pulling his skin tight over his lanky frame. He almost lost his grip on the controls. Absolute terror and pure joy exploded in his brain. The Zeus dipped and banked with the slightest bit of steering. Matteo punched through pink and orange cloud towers hundreds of miles high. Strafed through the cotton rifts and valleys. Spiraled down until he thought he’d blackout, then pulled up, accelerating out in a huge arc.

“Recalculating,” said a digital woman’s voice. He finally noticed the blinking message on-screen. Hesitated, sighed, then tapped “Resume Auto”. It was over too soon, though forever wouldn’t have been enough. The Zeus locked into the descent and hit the throttle. Matteo looked up through the canopy, said a final goodbye, then plunged into gray. Clouds enveloped the Zeus. Something else wrapped tight around his insides.

“Here we go,” he said in a breath. Water drops streaked over the glass as he peered into the darkening yellow fog. Moments passed. A multicolored glimpse appeared ahead of him before falling back in the polluted shroud. Too quick to see anything. Then all at once it was all there. Sedonia City. The skyline gathered low near the edges by the Border, then swept up in the center like a crystal mountain. All shining in the copper glow of the setting sun. The rush washed over him like an electrified current from his temples down to his toes. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“Entering Sedonia airspace. Reducing speed to 50 kph and descending to Traffic Altitude: Beta,” the message appeared on screen.
I...um...ok...
The flight sticks turned by themselves and set a course for a flowing line of headlights below. The Zeus dipped for the queue of cars, found a space, and drifted gently in. Matteo, wide-eyed, puffed a lung-full of relief.

He noticed that his cruising speed was actually damn fast. The Slums appeared beneath him, and rushed by like a giant ant colony. He watched the garbage scows drop their payloads into the Pits. Saw the first lights of Ninetown nightlife. Then millions of little smoke columns all over the rusty jagged landscape. Some cook-fires. Some still smoldering from the raid. He soared above and apart from it all. Goosebumps washed across his skin as he passed over the Border.

The Outer Ring passed underneath, wider than he’d ever thought it would be. Miles of short factory buildings, shipyards, and freighter ports stretched on for miles. He could make out tiny ground vehicles as they drove along the circuit-like access roads.

Past the dirty foothill apartments and offices of the Outer Ring edge, the Zeus flew deeper. Buildings took on the familiar angles and beautiful curves he’d studied on faded pages. They lived and breathed in front of him. He could see swarms of people gathering on skywalks, hanging plazas, and balcony tiers. Vehicles dropped from the queue and joined criss-crossing lanes of traffic through the structures. Matteo’s hungry eyes darted everywhere, filling his chest with what felt like white light.

“Arriving at: Kuwahara Commons.” The Zeus dipped down for one of the radial parking pads on the edge of the main plaza. Hovered to a gentle stop. Matteo engaged the landing gear, killed the engine, and tore at the harness buckles. As he popped the release, the canopy slid back. He climbed out on wobbling, half-asleep legs and stepped down the ladder onto the pavement.

Matteo took one last look at the Zeus. Sighed, then turned. He walked briskly toward the plaza steps at the end of the pad. Others around him, dressed in tight-fitting patterns of bizarre clothes, shot glances his way. The bright orange jumpsuit probably got their attention. He unzipped his collar and spread it out, covering the Themis insignia on his chest. Then he ripped at the shoulder seams, tearing off both long sleeves. Whether or not it worked, at least it was more comfortable. He shoved his hands in the pockets, tucked his chin, and walked into the Plaza.

“…for that, Governor Sato, we
do
hold you accountable!” a loud female voice barked through a megaphone on a raised platform. A crowd of people gathered around her, shouting and waving signs. Matteo squinted to read them.
‘21 EXOs Dead! For what?’ ‘No blood for Corporate Profits!’ ‘Governor Sato: Killer of Children’
This didn’t make any sense. People from the City didn’t get angry about things in the Slums.
Do they? Why?
He took five steps toward them, then heard heavy engines behind him.

The two Fury Class ships from the Themis hangar descended to the parking pad beside the Zeus. Landed in front of it with their wing guns spooled up. People on the pad scattered, then went about their business like nothing had happened. One of the Fury hatches opened. Kabbard stepped out. Matteo whirled away and pushed past a group of gawking onlookers and into the Plaza.

In the middle of another backward glance, Matteo almost bumped into someone. A skinny, shaggy haired guy had stepped in his path. Handed Matteo a piece of bright red paper.

“Join the Future. Empower yourself,” was all the young man said before turning with a flip of his shiny scarf. Matteo looked at the paper as he sped on through the Plaza. Big, bold letters at the top said:
‘Utopia is an Illusion
.
’
Matteo swept a glance over the surrounding skyscrapers.
Looks real enough to me.
A commotion of angry shouts picked up behind him. The three black-suited forms of Kabbard and his men stormed into the crowd, sifting through the angry protestors. A thicket of screaming bodies and swinging signs blocked them.

Matteo ran, sprinting through ramps, stairwells, and clustered kiosks. He almost tripped through a mound of trash in the street. Leaped to one side. Two concrete tiers above, a massive block of escalators led up to a skywalk. He jumped, kicked off a wall, and lunged through the air. Grabbed curved railing at the top and pulled himself up. A homeless man, dressed in rags and lying on a cardboard sheet, lunged at him. Matteo rolled away and stood up, shocked at the face that could have been pulled straight out of a Falari Market gutter.

He ran to the base of an escalator, got on, and wove as far as he could through the crush of sweet-smelling citizens. All around him, people made strange hand and finger gestures in the air. Swiping, twisting, pinching, tapping. Most talked to themselves. Few to each other. Sure that he was being ignored, Matteo caught his breath and looked back down into the shrinking Plaza. Kabbard and his guys had stopped by a kiosk. One of them, Matteo couldn’t tell who, kicked the pile of trash.

Matteo hung his head and took a deep breath in the belly. Exhaled.

29

Welcome

THROUGH HIS PORTHOLE
window, Jogun watched the flashlights, torch-flames, and lanterns of Pit workers gather like a swarm of fireflies on the barren plain. Most had probably been on their way back home for the day when they saw the landing fleet of Themis ships and came running. Even exhausted from sixteen hours of work, a payday this big would be hard for any Cutter to pass up. More waste to be cut, carted away, and sold off to the City Seedmaster, maybe buying an extra day’s rice. Seeing them made his chest flutter.

Six years in lunar gravity meant one thing. Atrophy. His limbs were in agony, filling with acid moments after the fleet broke atmo. It was like being under twenty tons of water and on fire at the same time. And now he would be expected to be...what? A hero? A prophet? A savior? He did his best to lay still in the sticky, sweaty upholstery of his cabin seat, trying desperately to enjoy what might be the last peaceful moment left to him. ‘
All you ever tried to do was keep me in the fucking dark!’

He felt the titanic feet of the landing gear flex beneath him and the whole cabin sagged to a full stop. Cheering erupted in the compartments behind him. He and the other old-timers looked around at one another in their forward compartment. Most exchanged tearful nods or held hands with the interlacing of feeble fingers. But the weight. Jogun could feel it in the others as much as himself. Heavier than the gravity dragging down on their bodies, the weight of a long forgotten home suddenly there again...and feeling foreign. Totally alien. He wished he was happier.

Jogun flinched as the compartment door popped then hissed open. Cheering, singing T99s flowed in. Two by two, they lifted each of the old-timers and bore them to the exit ramp. Rusaam and Kolpa were the last two in. They approached with the care of Rasalla River priests, stopping beside Jogun in his private front seat.

“Hey y’all,” said Jogun, “How was your flight?” A brittle smile creased the lines of his sunken cheeks. The two of them exchanged confused looks, each of them searching for just the right thing to say to the almighty ‘Healer.’ Jogun sighed. Nodded. Russam unhooked him from his harness, like a parent does a child, then raised the arm rest. Jogun took a deep breath as the two of them scooped under his legs and supported his back. He winced.

“You okay, Brother? If we’re hurtin’ you, let us know,” said Rusaam.

“I’m fine, but...just call me Jo.”

Rusaam nodded, though Jogun noted the man’s wounded silence. Jogun took a deep breath into his heavy, aching chest.

“Slow and easy, y’all. Let’s go.”

The sounds of the celebration outside wafted up the exit ramp as they walked down. Laughing, crying, shouting, and singing filled the warm, dust-laden sweat of the sunset air. The long forgotten smells of Rasalla filled Jogun’s nostrils, squeezing his throat with the threat of tears.

Ten young T99s in Themis jumpsuits flanked the center path of the ramp, holding fluorescent lanterns to light the way. They had been waiting for the last passenger. As Jogun appeared in the arms of his attendants, the hush spread like a wave in front of him. He fought down the seizing panic, closed his eyes, and breathed deep. Astonished whispers surrounded him as he felt Rusaam and Kolpa step off the angled platform onto the flat desert ground. More voices than he could count. Against every urge to keep them shut, he opened his eyes.

In the fading violet bath of the setting sun, thousands of silent faces watched him. Rusaam and Kolpa stopped.

“Stand me up,” Jogun heard himself say. His caretakers obeyed with delicate care, lowering him to touch first his right foot, then his left. The coarse shipyard soil ground into the soles of his work boots under his gathering weight. Legs trembling, he willed himself to stand. The electricity of the moment coursed from his fingertips to his toes and to his ears. His head felt light, as though it would carry him away. The lights across the Pits trembled at first in the gathering twilight, then seemed to rise into streaks of charged color.

Cold with sweat and shaking, he reached up to shield his eyes. The streaks bled together into a blinding aurora. The last shape he saw was the ocean of people holding their hands up in unison. Jumping. Dancing. Everything went white and Jogun swooned. He felt the dull impact of the earth beneath him before everything just stopped.

Jogun’s eyes fluttered open and awareness flickered on to the sensation of violent, shaking movement. The dull orange sky of dusk hung above, or rather in front of him. The tops of slum buildings passed to his left and his right.
I’m on my back
. His hand drifted to his face to touch something warm and wet. Red smeared fingers.
My fingers...my blood...
The stabbing pain above and behind his ears mounted in a single, sharp pulse. He winced as it subsided. Then it came again.