Edward (24 page)

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Authors: Marcus LaGrone

Tags: #Furry, #Fiction

BOOK: Edward
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“So,
is it family first?”

“Yes.”

“I
hope so; you will need to prove that today.  I doubt the others will let
you go about your task.  Let us go see.”  Richard walked to the door
and opened it and sighed as he looked beyond.

Zoë
and Edward followed and looked over his shoulder.  Outside were at least
twenty bikers and another fifty would be patrolling beyond.

“My
children came in peace, they leave in peace,” called Richard to the mob.

“She
killed Gretchen!”

“Gretchen
challenged her station.  Who among you has the right to challenge my
children?”

“They
can leave, but not until next Monday.”

“I’m
leaving now,” called out Zoë.

“Like
hell you are,” came the reply, and suddenly Zoë’s bike
exploded in flames.  That produced a vicious round of laughter in the
distance.

“Stand
clear, Deacon, she’s going down!”

“She
is my daughter; she is in my protection.”

“The
Rector made things clear.”

“Then
I will see him on the other side.  Edward, I’m told Afon is quite beautiful. 
I do hope you enjoy the seven rivers of Westdale.”

That
didn’t set well with Edward, but it was Zoë that spoke first, “Okay, how do we
get out of here now?  My bike has had it.”

Edward
slowly started to back away from the door with Zoë, “That’s okay.  I
brought you a spare!”

 

 

Edward’s
mind lashed out in fear and anger.  A thousand old voices and arguments
suddenly played out in his head all at once.  The noise within burnt him
to his core, but he fought it, he had to.   Edward raised his Live
Steel in a giant display, yet each spark seemed to jab Edward to his very
soul.  Pain from within tore at him as he watched every failure in his
life play back in his mind, mocking him over and over again.  But he would
not fail…

The
wall of blue sparks collapsed and revealed the fruits of Edward’s pain: a copy
of Zoë’s bike that had been folded through time and space.   “Drive!”
he screamed as the bike formed under them.  The turbine was already
whining away at what normally would have been red-line.  But Takru’s
technicians had seen otherwise and as Zoë released the brakes, the engine was
already at 150k rpm.

The
pair shot out of the building in a treacherous blur.  Edward would have
been sick to his stomach from the acceleration, but the process of folding an
entire working bike had already made him sick in his own right.  He fought
to raise his Live Steel as armor; it was a given they were getting ready to get
shot at.  He didn’t know how far he raised the armor, but it didn’t
matter.  Between the element of surprise and Zoë’s extreme driving, no one
got a shot off at them until they were well on the far side of the dock. 
Based on the secondary hail of gunfire, it was doubtful that Deacon Richard
Sylva made it out himself.

“I’m
not sure your dad made it,” yelled Edward to Zoë.  While they had her
bike, they lacked the helmets with their communication gear.

Zoë
nodded, “And we didn’t even learn a thing! This was just a waste!”

“No. 
We know where the bombs are.  We need to find a place where we can raise Trevor.”

“What? 
Where?  Safe spot… I can probably buy us about five minutes.  Hold
on.”

“Hold
on” was easily the silliest thing that had been said all morning.  Edward
was holding so tightly that they probably only needed
one driving suit.

Zoë
rocketed down the concrete canyons past an ever-increasing number of
irate-looking people.  All well-armed and
well-motivated.  Zoë’s twists and turns were punctuated with a fur
raising jump that launched them off the main track and onto a side rail high
overhead.  The rear airbrakes deployed as she struggled to slow down the
bike on the narrow path, but a few turns later and they were out of sight.

“Okay,
we have a clear sky overhead for comms and I assume the bike’s radio still
works.  What did father tell you that I missed?”

“Abbey, Roland, Freska, Blue Spire, Eagleton, and Foxdale.  Do any of those ring a bell?”

Zoë
looked horrible confused, “No, why?”

“You
father mentioned the seven rivers of Westdale.  There are only six.”

Zoë’s
face suddenly lit up, “He was passing a clue!”

“I
bloody well hope so!  Think!  Do any of those click for around here
or around the city?”

Zoë
shook her head, “Not a clue.  Can we get Trevor on the comms?”  She
fiddled with the controls until they radio sprang to life.

“Trevor here. Go.”

“‘Abbey, Roland, Freska, Blue Spire, Eagleton, and
Foxdale.’  Do any of those names
make sense for a place name where they might be hiding the bombs?”

“Searching… 
How clear is your exit?”

“Covered
in mud,” replied Zoë.  “We got new trouble—someone on the catwalk.”

With
no small amount of discomfort, but far less than the motorbike, Edward folded
in a Live Steel copy of a submachine gun and handed it to Zoë, “You are better
with those things than I am…”

 Zoë
racked the action expertly as she slid the butt stock back.  Two quick
peeks around the corner and then she just unloaded the clip down
range.   Edward folded his ears backwards; oww, that was loud! 
Next time it would be a gun with a suppressor!

“LRSS Foxtail, abandoned freighter there in the port.  250k ton displacement, sold for scrap but still
floating.”

“Foxtail,
Foxdale.  That sounds darn good to me!” called Edward.   “Do you
need us to board it?”

“Oh heavens, no.  
Let Mjölner handle this.  Stay on the west side of that
structure.   Impact in less than four minutes!”

“Will
you know if the strike was successful?”

“Airborne
spectroscopy should be able to validate the strike.”

“Do
you have authorization yet?” mused Edward.

“Oh, heck no. 
That’ll take at least twenty.  Stay safe kids.  Yell when it clears.”

“Yes,
Dad
.”

“Mjölner?”
asked Zoë.

“Human cute pet trick.  It is the name of Thor’s hammer.  A god
from their ancient mythology.  One hundred and twenty kilos of
tungsten encapsulated in ceramic, fired down from orbit.”

“No
explosives?”

“When
you are going that fast, you don’t need explosives.”

Three
more incursions along the catwalk were met with more gunfire before Edward
advised that the guys on the catwalk were the least of their concerns. 
Never one to leave things half baked, the humans had fired twelve rounds in
rapid succession from orbit.  Things falling from the sky tend to hit with
a terrible thud.   Things
launched downward
, even more
so.  The brilliant incandescent glow was hard to miss, but it was the
sound that told the story.  The crack of the sonic boom was washed out by
the entire world seeming to reverberate as the rounds hit.  The building
seemed to shake for minutes.

Finally
things calmed down enough that Edward risked moving over to the bike and cueing
the mike, “Shaken and dusty but fine, Trevor.”

“Excellent. 
Spectroscopy shows a 99.8% chance that all four warheads were disrupted. 
I assume you’d like extraction?”

“Yes,
please!”

“We
have the 1212
th
on high descent now.  Half headed to the
wreckage, half headed your way.  The gunship is on station and should be
there in less than five.”

“Is
the wreckage going to be toxic to them?” asked Zoë, more than a little
concerned.

“Shukurae
are tough.  They should be able to handle a four hour exposure the first
day with no side effects.  I just wouldn’t go there myself!”

“Understood.  
We may have to squirm here a bit.  There are confused and grumpy people
here.”

“Understood. 
We’re tracking the bike.  If you separate from the bike, squawk or fold it
up.”

“Folded that once already.  I’m going to try to avoid that.”

“What
are those streaks in the sky?” asked Zoë as she looked overhead.

“Shukurae… and lots of them!”

Idioms
and expressions are fun views into the working psyche of different
cultures.  Quite mundanely, a common expression in a great many cultures
is “to hit the ground running.”  The Shukurae equivalent spoke of their
history and their culture as a warrior people.  The nearest translation
would come across, quite bluntly, as “to hit the ground
shooting
.”

Everything
that was moving was being shot at.  Things that weren’t moving were being
lit on fire.  It must have irritated the Shukurae to their very core that
there wasn’t a fast way to make water catch on fire.  Not that they were
about to give up trying.  Dante’s classic work would have passed for a
description of a field exercise for teenage Shukurae for it really took a true
master to create hell on earth.   Edward cringed and shielded Zoë
from the blasts as weapons were being unleashed that even the Gelkin considered
‘excessive.’  The Shukurae suffered from no such short-sightedness; there
was always room for a more devastating explosion.  “Excessive violence”
was one of those humorous oxymorons that they bantered about in the bar after a
long day.  Shukuare were scary when they were mad, and the 1212
th
CSOG was pissed!

The
smoke soon cleared, primarily from the large updrafts created by the raging
fires on the perimeter, and a large Shukurae assault gunship descended as
another wave of shocktroops descended.  With no small amount of relief,
Edward spied Tazo at one of the doors and quickly hailed him.  With a
gruff escort of towering Shukurae, Zoë and Edward were quickly shepherded
inside.  The pair had barely found their seats before the great craft
rocketed into the air.

Edward
looked at Tazo, “Okay, they looked worse than normal.  What is up?”

“They
had long ago promised your brother Penn to watch out for you.  They were
just making certain they did not fail in their obligations.”

“Penn?  I
thought it was always Llewellyn that made people go crazy,” asked Edward.

Tazo
smiled, “Penn did his fair share.  Are the two of you uninjured?”

“We’re
fine.  I don’t think her father made it…”

Zoë
just shook her head, “It was his own people.  At least he came through in
the end.”

“I am
sorry for your loss, Lady Zoë.”

“It’s
okay.  I’m just glad he went out doing the right thing.”

Edward
stared straight at Zoë, “You are not, ‘Okay’.  You are about ready to fall
apart.”

“Yeah.  Yeah,
I am.  But let me wait until we get back to the flat.  I need to tell
Ethan.”

Edward
nodded and smiled as he held Zoë tight.  It wasn’t a long flight back; it
just seemed that way.

 

40 

 

 

Ethan
took it in stride.  Sad at the passing, glad at the
redemption.  Both of them had given up on their father long
ago.  But that didn’t mean that the final passing didn’t hurt.

“I
guess I’m in line to be the next Deacon,” joked Ethan through the tears. 
“I think I’ll give that a miss, thank you.”

“No
female Deacons?” asked Tatiana.  “That is rude.”

“What
was your first hint?” mused Zoë back.  “Hey, Gillian?”

“Yes, Zoë?” Gillian
was tickled pink to have them back and doing her best to calm them all.

“Can
I change my last name to Rose, too?   I’m kinda done with Sylva.”

Gillian
beamed, “If you like, I’d be delighted.”

“Any
word on Tatiana’s father?” whispered Edward.

“We
can all hear you,” joked Tatiana.  “You are talking louder than you
think.  Probably the gunshots still ringing in
your head.”

Edward
offered a feeble grin, “Sorry…”

Gillian
shook her head, “No, to answer your question.  There is a standoff on the
far side of the old ship yard and they think he is being held there.  But
no one knows for certain.”

Suddenly
Trevor knocked on the door frame again, “Sorry to barge in.  Edward, who is your favorite disposable sniper?”

“Disposable? 
I don’t think I have one in mind.”

“Okay,
I’ll go with my first choice.  Should make for some neat
ends.  Catch you guys later.  Oh!  Gillian, eight
o’clock!  Try again?”

She
smiled broadly, “Of course.  I’ll be waiting.”

“How
many times have you two reset that date?” asked Zoë, happy for the distraction.

“Don’t
ask!”

“That’s
hours from now.  Gillian can you keep an eye on Ethan?” asked Zoë.

“Sure. 
I’d be delighted,” laughed Gillian.

“Where
are you going?” asked Edward more than a little curious.

“To bed.  
And you and Tatiana are coming too!”

 

 

 

One
precise gunshot ended the standoff.  The governor was struck in the arm,
but the same bullet subsequently found something far more vital on the
so-called Rector and sent him careening off of a five story building to the
concrete floor of the boat locks.  The faithful quickly scattered like the
lost sheep they were; half of which were quickly rounded up with no additional
violence.  It had been a gorgeous shot, the sign not just of an expert
marksman, but of someone that had elevated such work to an art.  As the
sniper’s face briefly flashed by on the news footage, Edward fell to the ground
he was laughing so hard.

Tatiana
poked Edward in the ribs, more than a little confused, “Um, so what is so darn
funny?”

Edward
was tearing he was laughing so hard, “Oh, that was rich.  Even for
Trevor.  You remember he asked me for my choice in disposable sniper?”

Zoë
nodded, just as confused as Tatiana, “Yes, and he said he was going with his
first choice.  ‘Disposable’ is an odd moniker.”

“Well,
the sniper had to sneak into an area where, if he was caught, he would have
been executed on the spot.”

“We
figured out what ‘disposable’ meant,” interjected Tatiana.  “So why is
that guy so funny?”

Edward
was still fighting off the giggles, “That was the man that was hired to shoot
you in the leg.”

“The
same loon we chased on the motorcycle?” asked Zoë.

“Yep.  That’s
the one.”

“He
almost shoots me, so they give him a suicide mission as a way out of jail?”
asked Tatiana.  “That seems irregular at best.  Practical in Trevor’s
own weird way, but that still kinda creeps me out.”

“He
was a professional, and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t going to be doing any real
jail time,” remarked Edward.

“No
jail time?  He almost shot Tatiana, leg or otherwise.  He
did
shoot you, and you think they were just going to let him go?”

Edward
nodded, “I got the impression he was going to be traded in some sort of spy
swap.”

“Spy
swap?  My dad was running spies on other planets?” asked Tatiana
incredulously.

Edward
nodded, “Mostly industrial espionage if I heard correctly, but yes
nonetheless.”

Tatiana
blinked blankly, “Um… wow?  That is just something I would have never
expected…”

 Edward’s
comlink chirped suddenly and he clicked it reflexively, “Edward here, what’s
up?”

Trevor’s
cheerful voice piped up, “Tatiana with you I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Hi,
Trevor!” chimed Tatiana.

“Hello! 
Your father is at hospital; they are going to have to sedate him as they try to
get endocrine system back in check.  Several days off your meds can cause
some serious problems.   But if you’d like to see him, we have about
a fifteen minute window.  I can have a gunship ferry you guys there and
back.”

 
“Yes!  Yes, please!” Suddenly Tatiana seemed reserved, “Um,
that is if you two will come with me.”

Zoë
beamed, “Of course, silly girl.  We just need to find some clothes…”

“I
didn’t need to hear that,” laughed Trevor.

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