Swan Song (Book Three of the Icarus Trilogy) (3 page)

Unfortunately, the young messiah was past teaching.  He walked over to the pair of men and crouched down, extending his hand to cover the ruined fingers and knuckles of Douglas Finnegan.  The former announcer flinched at the contact, but quickly relaxed.

“Sorry, Ryan, it’s hard to believe I’m out of there,” Douglas said softly, not fully realizing why people were being so nice to him.  Jenkins shook his head and looked him in the face.  The man’s eyelids were sunken, betraying the ruins beneath.  And although Douglas would not be able to notice, Jenkins would not look away from those shut eyelids.  He felt like he owed the man that respect.

“You are, Doug.  You’re ok.  And we’re gonna make sure that you get to see.... that you get to live in a better world,” Jenkins said, cursing himself for making such an obvious mistake.  He looked down towards the ground briefly before he heard a weak laugh from the broken man in the chair.  He looked back up to see Douglas smiling, his lips a twisted form of what used to be.

“It’s ok, Ryan.  You don’t have to worry about offending me.  You have a lot on your mind; you have a lot to worry about.  And don’t do anything special on my account.  Really.  We have plenty of people to fight for,” Douglas said, his voice heavy with sentiment.  Atlas had told him what had happened on the way to this room.  He had told Douglas how the EFI had only evacuated a few teams before Jasper had killed an entire world.  Douglas had lost a friend and his eyes; Jenkins had lost so much more.  He wouldn’t let this messiah figure feel guilty for him.

“Doug....” Jenkins started, unable to look the man in his face.  He looked around the briefing room and found the tables and chairs exactly where they always were, arranged in a sort of circle for council discussions.  He looked back to the ruined man and then up into the face of Thomas.  The leader of the revolution gave a sad smile before setting a rough hand onto Douglas’ shoulder.

“You’re doing your best, Ryan.  I know that,” Douglas said, his voice halting.  “You’re human, just like the rest of us.  So don’t worry about me.”  As he said the words, Douglas knew he believed them, he knew that Jenkins needed to hear them, but he started to sink into self-pity.  He was out of the prison, but he would never escape this ruined body of his.  He let his head fall to the ground and did his best to hold back his tears.  He felt warm fingers touch his face and almost opened his eyes, remembering at the last second how horrible that could be.

“I always will, Doug.  I promise you that,” Jenkins said before looking back up at Atlas, whose eyes were filled with understanding just like always.  Thomas nodded before looking over to Carver by the doorway.  He beckoned to the veteran before crouching down slightly to talk into Douglas’ ear.

“Alright, Doug, I actually need to have a talk with Ryan, here.  Do you mind if I let Carver show you around the rest of our bunker?”  Douglas laughed at that and shook his head, the tears falling from his eyes, but no longer feeling the sadness that had come with them.

“Carver’s here, too?  Jesus, what did I do to deserve this treatment?” Douglas asked as the veteran neared the three men, replacing Atlas behind the chair.

“Kid,” Carver said as he started to push the broken man out of the briefing room, “you’ve done more than enough.  Let’s leave the leaders to their talkin’, all right?”

“Yeah.  I think we can do that,” Douglas said, not believing the treatment he had received.  Three full-blown heroes were catering to his introduction to the resistance.  No matter how much self-loathing and pity he held for himself, he couldn’t help but feel better with these men surrounding him.

As the veteran left the room Atlas turned to the young messiah figure.  He gave a sad smile before motioning with his hand that they should sit for this conversation.  Jenkins knew there was no real arguing with the man, so he took his seat and crossed his legs, wary of what the revolutionary might say.

“It hurts to see what happened to him,” Thomas said as he gingerly lowered himself into the plastic chair.  It was a bit of a relic, but they did not have the luxury of quality seating down in the bunker.  Jenkins shrugged before looking towards the doorway.

“Well, maybe we can hijack another Future Bionics shipment.  Give him some eyes and another leg,” Ryan said before looking back at Atlas.  The older man shook his head and pursed his lips.

“I wish, Ryan, but he’s too far gone.  The nerve damage is far too severe for the eyes.  We’ll give him the leg, but Doug’s gonna be blind for the rest of his life,” Thomas said while rubbing his brow with his fingers.  Jenkins’ spirit sank at that, but he quickly recovered.  He didn’t have time to dwell on such a thing.

“We’ll have to break that to him slow,” the messiah figure said before setting his elbow on the nearby table and resting his jaw on his hand.  Thomas leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers.

“I’m sure he knows already, Ryan, but we’ll treat him well.  He’s earned that,” Thomas said before flexing his fingers and setting off a number of cracks and pops.  It made Ryan’s eye twitch, but he tried to ignore it.

“So what is it that you need to talk about, Tom?  Is it about the raid into Jericho?  I’ve been looking over the blueprints for the Catalytics headquarters but it’s-” Ryan started, but Thomas merely raised a hand to interrupt.

“No, Ryan, nothing so trivial,” he said, setting off a scoff from his young compatriot, but he continued.  “I’m sure we’ll get the planning under control.  It’s about leadership,” Thomas started, causing Ryan to shake his head and roll his eyes.

“Look, Tom, I’m not gonna ruin the Atlas image.  I’ll make sure people know you’re the boss,” he said, but instead of annoyance he found that Thomas was giving him a slight smile.

“Kinda what I wanted to talk about, Ryan.  I think it’s time I take the back seat,” Thomas said before lifting his right hand to support the weight of his head.  Jenkins raised his eyebrow at that, so Thomas laughed before continuing.  “You’ve made some great strides in the last couple months.  The resistance still has a ways to go, but I think it might be time for you to take front and center.  Everybody’s heard that speech of yours; everybody already thinks you’re in charge.  I figured it might be time to make it formal.”

Ryan looked over the man in front of him and wondered what he was thinking.  Atlas had been the voice of the EFI for ten years.  It seemed almost impossible to fill his shoes.

“If this is about changing it to the Earth Freedom Initiative....”

“Oh, please, Ryan, that’s what it should have been called in the first place, we were just a little short-sighted,” Thomas said.  “I’m not saying I won’t still contribute, but you’re a much better hero, a much better figurehead than I could ever be.  People look at me and see a college professor.  People look at you and see the hero that wants to avenge an entire world.  It’s a bit of a no-brainer,” Atlas said, looking pleased. 

“So it’s just an image thing?” Jenkins asked, the incredulity soaking through the question.  Atlas shrugged and rolled his eyes.

“Isn’t it always?  But from what I’ve seen you might actually be a hero,” Thomas said, the wry smile creasing his face.

“Do I have a choice?” Ryan asked, his voice weary once more.

“No, not really.  But most of our choices are made for us these days,” Thomas said, his voice tired in its own way.  Jenkins looked off towards the doorway and seemed to stare into space.

“I thought we were fighting against that, Tom,” Jenkins said, his mind clearly returning to his days on Eris.  Thomas leaned forward and set his arm along the length of the table.

“Well, we gotta get there first, Ryan,” he said before a thin, black man rushed through the opening into the briefing room.  His pace was exact and hurried, just like always.  The revolutionary broke into Ryan’s gaze and shook him back to the present.  Whatever Templeton had to say, it was not going to be good and Ryan was not going to like how he said it.

“Thought you might be in here.  Need to talk to you, Tom,” Templeton said, coming to a stop at the other side of the table and setting both of his hands down with some force.  Jenkins could see the man’s dark eye looking at Atlas, but noticed that the cybernetic replacement for his other eye was peering straight at him, the red light shining in the center.

“I’ll never get used to that eye of yours, Darius,” Jenkins said, trying to provoke the severe revolutionary.  Templeton’s brow furrowed at that, but he maintained both eye contacts.

“If you want I can cut out one of yours.  Even the playing field,” Templeton said before rising to his not-so-impressive full height.  If not for the man’s prior training with the Earth Orbit Security Forces, there would be nothing intimidating about the revolutionary.

“Some other time, Templeton.  What do you need to say?” Ryan asked, curious as to what the black man was going to report.  The revolutionary turned both of his eyes to the young messiah figure and sneered.

“This is for Atlas, Jenkins.  Need-to-know basis,” he said, clearly resenting how important Ryan had become.  Thomas shifted in his seat and leaned over the table to look at Templeton.

“He can hear, Darius.  We’ve been talking about the switch, anyway,” the leader said, not expecting the thin man to turn his head so fast.  He could only sense anger from the former EOSF officer.

“The what?”

-

“The fuck are you thinking, Tom?!”  The leader of the revolution had seen Templeton this angry only a few times, usually when something disastrous had happened to the EFI.  To see this kind of reaction meant one of two things.

Either Templeton had no faith in Ryan Jenkins, or he was completely and insanely jealous.

Thomas walked over to his desk and sat himself down in the old, cushioned chair.  He had spent many nights bent over blueprints and speeches, wasting away his hours for sleep in the pursuit of better plans and better words.  He was just getting a little tired; a little too weary to continue on like this.  For Atlas, that meant it was time to pass on the torch, but he could understand a few misgivings.  He looked up at the angry revolutionary in front of him and bit his cheek.

“You know he has it in him, Darius.  You saw how he was on Eris; you saw how he was in the shuttle.  The kid’s a born leader,” Thomas said, remembering how Jenkins had turned from suicidal soldier to motivational speaker within just a few hours.  The leader of the revolution got chills as he remembered Jenkins’ reaction to the death of Eris.

“The fucker has charisma, Tom, but that’s it.  A guy like that is only going to get good men killed.  He cares more about petty revenge than anything,” the thin man said, trying to appeal to reason, but Thomas merely scoffed at the idea.

“You think the death of millions of people and all his friends is a petty thing, Darius?”

“No, Tom, of course not,” Templeton began, but Thomas just gave a crooked smile and set his feet up on top of his desk.

“He has motivation, Darius, and if you bothered to actually watch what the guy’s done and not obsess over every mistake, you’d see that he’s a perfectly fine tactician.  He might want revenge, but it’s a cold burn, not an impetuous thing.  He knows how to let the coals stay bright.  If it was anybody else, you’d just say it was a hunger for justice.”

“Tom,” Templeton said, ready to disprove the claim, but the man called Atlas raised an eyebrow.

“Look, Darius, I get it.  He’s a shooting star and that bothers you.  Trust me, I value military minds like yours, too, but this is a fight over image.  We’re fighting a losing war against the status quo.  The only thing we can do is fight tyranny with symbolism and iconography.  We brought him back so he can be a messiah; I think it’s time we let him do it,” Thomas said, breathing out deeply at the concession.  He had not really wanted to use it, but it was their best weapon.

“It’s too soon for you to give up the reigns, Tom.  Give him a couple more months to prove himself,” Templeton started, but Atlas covered his head with his hands and then dropped them on the desk in front of him.

“We don’t have a couple months, Darius.  It’s time to let him take the lead; give the masses their Christ.  It’s not like I’m not going to stick around, but I’ve never been the military guy, anyway.  I’m a teacher, Darius, and not even that great of one.  I taught kids who didn’t give a damn about the state of the world,” Thomas said before looking up at the thin, black man.  “I was always meant to give a guiding hand; support the ones who would actually make a difference.  My tag name wasn’t an accident.”

“Goddamnit, Tom,” Templeton said before noticing the older man rising from his seat.  He walked around the desk and set his arms on the thin man’s shoulders.

“It’ll be fine, Darius.  We’re both going to be there to help him out.  But for me it’ll be from the bench,” Thomas said with a smile.  “Indulge an old man his rest, alright?”  Templeton shook his head, his face still absent of any light-hearted expression.