Swan Song (Book Three of the Icarus Trilogy) (10 page)

“So we’re starting with vodka and ending with vodka, right, Jimmy?” Urlov said as he wrapped his tree limb of an arm around Kaspar’s shoulders.  The smaller man looked up and sighed at his friend.

“Can’t we just.... drink beer this time?” James asked, but Demetri gave him that familiar grin of his.

“No friend of mine is going to be a little girl.  Not on my watch.”  Kaspar raised an eyebrow at that and shrugged off the man’s arm.

“What if I don’t like drinking vodka, my friend?” he asked, but Urlov just wrapped his arm around his shoulders again.

“We’ll make a man out of you yet, little Jimmy,” he said as he looked down the brightly-lit street.  As night was descending, the lights of the city shined brightly and showed the chaos of Babylon.  Even if Montgomery wanted martial law and a curfew, there was no way to support it.  The capital truly lived at night.

Kaspar shrugged off the arm again, but laughed this time.  He turned around towards the unassuming entrance to the bunker and could see Babylon Tower lit up like a Christmas tree.  All roads led to Montgomery’s centerpiece and it stood in defiance of the night.  Kaspar looked up the length of the massive tower and then saw the three asteroids in orbit.  They lined up perfectly with Rose Street and Kaspar could see them all clearly, even with all the light pollution.  There were Demeter and Elysia and Gaia, all in a row.

James turned back towards his friend and continued at a hurried pace so that he could catch up with the man.  As he met the pace of his blond, toothy friend, he couldn’t help but think of all the things he wanted.  Kaspar wanted to have some purpose or have someone recognize his worth.  He didn’t want to be just another soldier.  He wanted to inspire; he wanted someone to be proud of him. 

As he stared down the street, James Kaspar knew he just wanted to mean something to someone. 

-

Jessica burst through the doorway into the briefing room and walked straight up to Jenkins, who was in the process of leaning on the table adorned with scattered plans and blueprints.  Templeton just watched as the pregnant woman punched the messiah figure in the face and drove him to the ground.  The thin, black man smiled and stayed in his seat, unable to consider the possibility that he could help Ryan.  Jenkins just stammered as he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at his former teammate in confusion.

“What the hell, Jess?” he asked before looking to his right to see Thomas gathering up the plans, making sure that they wouldn’t be ruined in the scuffle.  The woman walked up to her fellow Crow and spat on the ground nearby.

“That’s for keeping me cooped up at home and out of the action, you fucker.  It’s time that you let me help out.  I’m not asking,” she said as she glared at him.  The young man on the ground shook his head and then jumped to his feet, doing his best to keep his distance in case she tried to strike him again.

“Jess, we’ve been through this.  We can’t make you active in the field because of the arm,” he said while opening his jaw, seeing if it was damaged.  Abrams started towards him again but stopped within arm’s length.

“That’s a lousy fucking excuse, kid,” she said, trying to make him remember that he used to be the rookie.  “Templeton has a new eye and you’re about to give that
War World
guy a new leg.  You can give me a new fucking arm, Jenkins,” she said as she thought better of her aggression and paced back from the table.

“We don’t just have those lying around, Jess,” Ryan said, but that made her turn around and scoff at him.

“You sure about that?  You can give a leg to a man who’s always going to be crippled but you can’t give a new arm to someone who you
know
is a better shot than you?  Where the hell are your priorities?”  Ryan shook his head at that, caught in an obvious trap, and looked back at his two fellow revolutionaries.  Templeton was just smiling; Atlas was doing his best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not just the arm, Jess, and you know that.  I can’t let you out like that,” Ryan said as he put his hand behind his neck, feeling tremendously awkward.  Abrams swung out her hip and pointed at her distended abdomen.

“You mean this?  Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t run ops, you fucking asshole.  Plenty of women have fought pregnant before.  It doesn’t stop me from being able to put a bullet into a man’s face, Jenkins,” she said as she kicked at a chair nearby.  Jenkins dodged the incoming furniture and then took in a deep breath.

“It’s not that you can’t fight, Abrams,” Jenkins said, determined to meet her on equal ground.  “It’s that we’re not going to let you.  I’m not going to endanger an unborn child,” he said, but he was interrupted by the woman screaming in front of him.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME, RYAN?!  If we don’t have enough people fighting there’s not going to be a future anyway!  You’re keeping me off duty just because you don’t want a baby’s death on your conscience?  Well guess what?  I never wanted this kid, but I’m going to have it and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it gets born into the right kind of world.  I’m willing to fight for its chances, but you’re too much of an asshole to let me do it.  That makes you a coward, Ryan.  You and the two assholes behind you.  Are they the ones who chimed in and said that I couldn’t fight?  Huh?  Are they the ones who are going to leave me crippled and out of
our
fight?” she asked, pointing her finger into Ryan’s face.  “Don’t you fucking forget it, kid.  I was there too.  I knew all those fuckers a lot longer than you.  What gives you the right to keep me on the bench?”

“It wasn’t his idea, girlie.”

Abrams whipped around and saw the red-haired sniper standing in the doorway.  The ever-present smile was gone and the eyes were filled with sorrow.  He walked towards the raging woman and set down his green and pink luggage before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“What the fuck are you saying, Norris?” Jessica asked as she turned her anger towards the recent arrival.  Her right arm hung limp by her side, but her left hand curled into a tense fist.

“I told him I wasn’t gonna fight unless you had to stay home.  And, well, he needs my services.  I’m not going to let him endanger any child of mine.  You can get all ang-” he started, but he was interrupted with a fist flying towards his face.  He side-stepped the blow and had to force himself not to incapacitate the furious mother in front of him.  The jester jumped backwards and outside of the woman’s reach, but she continued after him.

“You don’t have a right, you English Motherfucker!” she shouted as she lunged at him again, but Norris jumped away and sidled off towards the three stupefied revolutionaries watching the show.

“Look, I know you’re all about that girl power shite, Abrams, but a father gets a say,” he said, expecting her to be unable to control herself at the comment, but the woman was just standing off by one of the other grey tables.

“No, you dumbass, you don’t have a right at all.  You don’t have a say.  We never had sex,” Abrams said while looking at the jester in cold anger.  Norris was confused at first, but then turned to the gaping revolutionaries and laughed his head off.

“Girlie, we have vastly different understandings of the situation.  Did you bump your head on a low pipe, or something?”

“You idiot.  I meant with these bodies.  I hadn’t slept with you between my last death and the day we left Eris.  I don’t know how
this
happened,” she said as she held her belly, “but it wasn’t because of you.  So while the father may get a say, and I’m not even saying that shit, I’m fairly fucking certain
you
,” she said with a narrowing of the eyes, “don’t.”

Norris stood in the middle of the briefing room for about thirty seconds, but he felt like weeks had passed between the time she finished her statement and the time that he fell against the grey table to support himself.  The jester had thought he was going to be a father, that he had something to fight for other than pure righteousness, but that had been taken from him in an instant.  The red-haired killer breathed in deeply and looked around in a daze. 

“I.... I need to go somewhere, mates.  I need.... Umm....” he said to no one as he hurried out of the room, all eyes on him.  Abrams watched as the jester left, but soon afterwards turned to the three men across the room from her.  Thomas was distracting himself by thumbing the pieces of paper in his hand and Jenkins had sat down on the table, looking at his feet.  Only Templeton was able to stir from his reactions and looked over the warrior woman in the center of the room.

“Give her an arm and a gun,” he said as he turned to the two leaders of the resistance next to him.  Atlas broke out of his stare, but only to look at Darius in horror.  Jenkins stood up from his position and glared at the black man, but soon turned his attention to the woman breathing heavily and wordlessly begging for a chance.

“No fucking way,” he said with resolve.  He was met with an audible growl from the woman with the short, curly hair.

“Kid....”

“It might have been Ed’s idea but I agreed to it, Jess.  There’s no way I’m letting a pregnant woman go to war, especially if we have to cut her arm off to do it.  No fucking way, Abrams,” he said as he started to walk towards the dangerous woman.

“You asshole, after what you just heard?!” she shouted, but Jenkins grabbed the woman by the arms and stared right back at her.  It shocked the woman out of her anger, but she still held a grudge with the eye contact.

“I’m not letting you out there and that’s final.  But,” he said as his expression softened a bit.  “I never said you couldn’t help.  I’m not going to retire you like Norris wanted.  We have plenty of work to do in the complex,” he said, but Abrams laughed at that and then sneered at him.

“A woman’s duties?  You want me to cook and clean?  Tell you all how good you men folk are doing?”

“No, Jess,” he said as he broke into a slight smile.  “I have a feeling you’d be terrible at all that.  We need help planning operations and tactical pursuits, maybe even inventory management.  Right now it’s just the three of us and Carver when he’s feeling charitable.  And we’re burning ourselves out trying to handle this city.  You up for it?”

Jessica looked over her teammate and realized he wasn’t a rookie anymore.  He wasn’t someone that she could chide or criticize for being too young and too stupid to know better.  She looked up into the messiah figure’s eyes and huffed.

“I’m a fighter, Ryan.  That’s what they trained me for and that’s what I’m good at,” she said as she turned her gaze down towards her feet, but found that her belly was in the way.

“Those days are over, Jess.  Sometimes you have to let others fight for you, probably die for you.  You can help by doing everything you can to make sure they don’t.  Do you understand?” he asked, trying to give her something to think about.  The woman shrugged off his hands and stepped backwards.

“I have a feeling you do, Ryan,” she said, her eyes filled with resignation.  “I bet you’re itching to be out there,” she said, getting the response she was hoping to find.  Jenkins pursed his lips and couldn’t look her in the eye.

“I’d say you have no idea, but it’s pretty obvious.  C’mon,” he said as he offered his hand.  “You can help us with this strike.”  The warrior woman cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.

“Strike?”  Jenkins shrugged his shoulders at that and walked over to the table, which Thomas was hastily covering with sheets of paper.

“Come over here and we’ll tell you,” he said, his head turned to his former teammate.  “We could use another perspective.”

As Abrams walked over to join the three men, two were quite pleased with the outcome.  The thin, black man played along, welcoming the woman into the fold, but his artificial eye continued to glare at her.  Jessica was a decent fighter, but she had no place in this room with them.  As far as Templeton was concerned, he was the only Crow that should have been there.  Atlas had trained him for this, Darius had wanted this for years, and now these two upstarts with their temper tantrums had found their way into planning his revolution.

He hoped that Thomas knew what he was doing.

-

 “Alright, so this is the EOSF barracks in District Eight,” Atlas said as he hit the button on his remote and the outline of the heavily-guarded barracks flickered onto the projection screen in the briefing room.  The aging revolutionary looked over the attendees and pursed his lips. 

Templeton, Jenkins and Abrams were there, having planned the operation, but Thomas wanted to gauge the reactions of the other attendees.  The rest of the Crows were in attendance and the other chairs were filled with team captains from Eris.  Oliver from the Lions was sitting next to Gerrig from the Mastodons; Ikari from the Sparrows was lounging in his chair next to Quayle from the Eagles.  Those were the only captains that had been assigned to Babylon; the rest were scattered around Earth and the asteroids.  The rest of the briefing room was filled with civilians who took orders but had little input otherwise.  Atlas knew them all by name and could recall their psych profiles instantly; as the father of their revolution, it was necessary.