Fire, Ruin, and Fury (Embers Saga) Read online

  Apparently used to this kind of reception, Shay affably honored Honey’s reaction and excused himself politely for a restroom break to give Christian a private moment with his displeased souse. He was gone long enough for Honey to launch a hushed reprimand of her father, but not long enough to miss it. When he returned, visibly cleaner, Emily opted for a diversion. She offered Shay a chair and a cup of lukewarm Cafecito, both of which he readily accepted with a crinkled smile. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small metal flask, which took Emily aback. He promptly dropped a splash of liquor into his Cafecito and offered her a kindly wink, and for reasons she couldn’t explain to herself, she smiled warmly back and started to share Tim’s optimism.

  Her mother and father returned, and Honey begrudgingly sat across from Shay as her father explained how they came to meet. Shay had come into her father’s small shop looking for parts. Shay was working on a string of projects to the north—some of the only builds in the region—and his power engineer had recently gone missing.

  “Your husband, as you prob’ly guessed, understood all the issues right away,” Shay said, enthusiastically. “How we built it, and why we’re havin’ problems. How we shudda built it, and how we can fix it. Weren’t long before I reckoned he could be a big help to us.”

  Her father quickly interjected. “Shay has offered me—us—a contract.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and after a long pause, she asked her father for “a word” in the adjoining room.

  Christian reluctantly got up and followed Honey to the kitchen. Shay leaned back in his chair and took another slurping sip of his spiked Cafecito. Emily smiled at him again, a modest effort to set him at ease.

  “Are you goddamned kidding me?” Honey spat as strongly as a whisper would allow, but still loud enough to be hear din the next room. “You bring home some filthy urchin you just met—some transient with some mystery project for God-knows-who? In God-knows where?! You bring him to our home?!”

  Her mother’s berating clearly audible, Emily caught Shay’s eyes again, the discomfort forcing another awkward and sheepish smile. To her surprise, he offered back a reassuring wink.

  He doesn’t need this as much as we do, Emily realized.

  “You’re worried he’s going to raid us?” her father retorted in the next room. Emily rolled her eyes to the ceiling, knowing a wrong move when she heard it. But before her neurotic mother could go bat-shit on her father and kick Shay out of their lives forever, her father changed tack. “Honey-Hon, he’s not going to raid us.”

  “Not him by himself, Christian. Don’t be stupid. He’d lure us out into the open for his partners—one of whom apparently has already gone missing.”

  “To steal what?” Christian chided. “He showed me the plans. It wasn’t something he could fake. And it’ll be steady work. It’s what we need.”

  “So he says,” her mother quipped dismissively. Emily glanced back at Shay, who was now entertaining Tim on his wrist-plat, conspicuously ignoring the conversation in the next room.

  “Yes, he says so,” her father answered, now asserting himself more firmly. “It’d be a pretty elaborate plan for a raider to make, just to get our beans and biotein biscuits.” Christian paused and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “It’s a risk. But we’ll need to trust someone at some point. …So, we trust him or—or I’m not sure what. I’m all ears for alternatives.”

  The silence that followed from the kitchen was almost as embarrassing for Emily as the conversation that came before it.

  “OK,” Emily’s mother relented. “But I want to see these plans—something better than ‘pack up and follow a stranger into the Wilds.”

  Shay politely got to his feet as Christian and Honey returned to the room. Her mother approached Shay, her formal greeting glove now on, but Shay demurred uncomfortably at her outstretched hand.

  “No disrespect, ma’am,” he stammered. “It’s hard to keep a clean glove in my trade—your husbin'll vouch for that.”

  Emily’s mother withdrew her hand, and smiled, appreciating Shay’s humility and manners.

  At her mother’s request, Shay brought in his V-plat console and brought up the plans for the worksites. Emily sleuthed in closer to see the 3-D map. “Here’s ‘us.” He pointed. “Here’re the work-sites. Mr. Sherman—that’s our payer—he’s offered a fat contract to build ‘em out, with performance bonuses—and I’m willing to share twenny-five percent. He says there might be a bunch more coming too.

  “Wait,” her mother interrupted. “Sherman? Farid Sherman? The mercenary?”

  “Yes ma’am, but word is he’s just a middle man in this, ‘cause he can bring the security. I s’pect the real money is coming from the Chief Regent or the Energy Consortium. … maybe both.”

  Emily’s mother cast a dubious look at both Shay and Christian.

  This is going downhill fast.

  Shay persevered. “Here’s the bulwarks on the perimeter of this’un.” He pointed again. “Gonna take months to finish. All of ‘em need rework to meet inspection—and probl’y maintenance once they’re done. After that, and the others, I got more leads on contracts in the northeast.”

  Nailed it.

  “And how to do we get there, Mr. Shay? Where do we stay?” She gave a nod toward Emily and Tim to clarify her meaning.

  “Just Shay, Ma’am, if you please. I’m no Ellie.”

  Honey smiled again.

  “It’s like I was tellin’ your husband, ma’am. I’ll arrange for you to stay in the lodges on the work sites. Each project’s got one. Nothin’ fancy, mind you. But they’re safe. Once your there, I can try to help y’all get residence in Troy Township. That’s right here. It’d take some doin’, and I can’t make no promises. …And that’s if y’all decide not to come east with me. All goes well, we might even become partners for the long term, and y’all just might consider comin’ east.”

  Her mother rubbed her forehead, trying to process it all.

  She’s almost there.

  “I understand your fears, ‘course,” Shay added. “Trust ain’t an easy thing to give to strangers. But that’s the offer. I’m leavin’ back for the work camp tomorrow night. You can come with. Or you can find your own way afterwards. But I cain’t promise it’ll still be there more than a few days.”

  ‘Take it or leave it,’ Emily thought. We’d be fools not to go with him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Shay—Shay. We’ll let you know.”

  Emily couldn’t believe her ears, or her eyes as she watched Shay exit the front door.

  As the door shut and Honey watched warily to make sure Shay got back in his vehicle and left, she turned to Christian.

  “Let’s discuss this tomorrow morning when the kids go to school,” her mother told her father before he could engage.

  Whatever nuances her mother intended to dissect the next day were moot when the local school was besieged the following morning. Emily had been sent by Honey to bring her bother his lunch, though to her way of thinking, he was too old for such coddling. She had graduated from the all-grades school the year before, though, and she had stopped in to visit with her favorite teacher, when shots rang out.

  A religious fanatic had infiltrated the school, screaming about the wrath of God as he gunned down teachers and students alike. Emily bolted up the stairs to her brother’s classroom, only to find it empty. Across the hall, though, was a room full of children, abandoned by their teacher. Emily threw a rusty chair though a window, and hoisted the kids out, lowering as far as she could before letting them fall to the ground below. As the shots and screams came closer, she finally jumped herself.

  Everyone below was cut from the shards of glass and stones on the ground, but they all knew better than to stop. She herded the children as fast as their bloodied knees could carry them—out of the school grounds to a fueling station down the road. There she reunited with her brother, who had been outside with his friends, consuming V-plat lessons. Her mother and fath
er were there in minutes, just before a jump-ship from the territorial militia landed, disgorging two assault buggies and a handful of soldiers, who charge the school house.

  Emily held Tom close in the back seat of Bambi, both shaking. When they got home, there wasn’t another word to be said about the deal. The decision was automatic, and the focus turned to meeting up with Shay as quickly as possible. Hours later, in the basement, Christian put on his beat-up wrist-plat and held it up to his face, triggering the iris scan. The V-plat console came to life, bleeping and humming for a few moments before projecting the holographic bust of Operetta.

  “Iris scan complete. Welcome, Christian Goldbloom. Do you wish to make a call for 10 Kroners, or would you care to upgrade to our Super Basic Plus data package for 600 Kroners to receive other wonderful information and entertainment services? We also have a sale on our platinum—”

  “Six-Hundred-Kroners!?” her father exclaimed. “Just to reactivate the data service? That’s robbery.”

  “We need it, Christian,” her mother insisted. “Just pay.”

  “Just 600 hundred Kroners, Mr. Goldbloom,” Operetta continued, sweetly. “A special price just for you today. A great value for Tim and Emily’s education. Discounts are also available on solar cells from the number-one brand—”

  “Oh, shut up and give me the Super Basic Plus service,” her mother grumbled, swiping her Commerce Card.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Goldbloom. Enjoy your Super Basic Plus data services from OmniComms, the Commonwealth’s premier information service provider.”

  Operetta’s image faded into the V-plat’s soothing green light, which filled the room as her father passed a pair of silvery gloves to her mother, who began swiping and poking in the air. After a few bleeps and bloops, a huge a map materialized above the V-plat console. Emily’s parents whispered and pointed, flicking and jabbing their fingers to overlay colorful lines and dots on the map.

  With her parents now fully engrossed in the machine, Emily crawled over to sit next to Tim, who was feverishly downloading lessons through the freshly resuscitated V-plat signal. Emily had fallen asleep, unsure why they had been brought downstairs at all when her father turned off the V-plat.

  To this day, Emily was surprised they made it to Shay unscathed. She had been pretty true to her pledge not to think of the terror during the months that followed. Since arriving at the worksite, time had passed quickly, and life improved, despite their regular treks into the Wilds from one work site to another. No one liked going through the Wilds—ever. At least now they were part of an Ellie gig (she suspected), and they traveled in packs, almost always escorted by assault vehicles and aerial drones. Still, they saw, up-close, the lives of the dispossessed and the perils of life in the Wilds—images she only saw in fleeting when they left Paola, around old Kansas City, and to the outer edges of St. Louis. Illness and pestilence. Religious, ethnic, and economic factions—all fighting for scraps.

  Now, to Emily’s profound dismay, they were preparing to hit the road without Shay and the Ellies to protect them.

  Shay wasn’t happy about the proposal to fetch the Lancasters. It meant time away from the projects, and Christian had become a valuable part of Shay’s business operations. It was a dangerous trip as well. Shay saw nothing but downside risk, though he had to know that Christian would go regardless of anything he might say—family being family.

  “Two days,” Shay groused. “Not a day more. Check in every morning and every evening—an’ya keep your comms on all the time.” Emily waited for Shay to spit out more conditions, if only to make his unhappiness plain. “…Anyone you bring back is your responsibility. I’ll get ‘em a pass to stay in camp, but I cain’t get ‘em into the township, so don’t go asking. …Two days. After that, I gotta bring in a replacement.”

  With this, Shay had overplayed his hand, and he knew it. Emily’s entire family went quiet, and Shay’s face flushed red. With Honey and Tim slated to hang on the Bambi and stay with Shay’s work team, the idea of replacing Christian was entirely unamusing. Fortunately, her father was generally unflappable, and he let the comment slide into the ether. Christian reached out to shake Shay’s hand, accepting the specious terms and reaffirming their commitment to one another.

  “Take care of my wife and my boy,” Christian nonetheless whispered, if only to drive the point home. Shay flushed even redder.

  “’Course,” Shay answered, as if the proposition went without saying.

  All was forgiven.

  Honey then moved-in and hugged Shay, making him visibly uncomfortable. Emily decided to double down, and along with Tim, joined her mother in hugging Shay.

  As the sun set over the camp, and the icy dry wind lifted a haze of dust on the horizon, Emily helped her father make the final preparations. She finished loading the weapons and tried to think about the wrenching predicament her aunt and cousins were in to steel her nerve for the coming trip. The sky shown purple and the first stars blinked above them. Emily, Christian, and Joshua extricated themselves from hugs and kisses. Christian turned over Oscar’s reluctant engine, and they rumbled down the gravel path and past the perimeter fence of the work-camp. Emily pushed Tim out of her racing mind and tried to embrace the darkness falling all around her, despite the shadowy dangers she knew it concealed in front of them.

  Chapter 6: The Gang of Seven

  (Ali Ibn al-Rashid)

  Ali Ibn al-Rashid paced across the polished marble floors toward the main entrance of the visitors’ lobby. Flanked on one side by Senator Ashley Templeton of Oregonia Province and on the other by Senator Thomas Baumgarten of the Mid-Atlantic Province, Rashid looked like a waif of a man between the North American giants. His wispy black hair, gently combed across his brown skin, contrasted starkly with his alabaster-skinned escorts, their thick shocks of silver-white hair carefully manicured.

  A wonder, he thought to himself, how much they look like brothers.

  “You two are wearing me out,” he cajoled. “You must put aside your squabbles for the next two days so we can at least lock down this part of the arrangement.” He brought their slow amble to a stop and reached for both their arms. He looked at each of them in turn, took a deep breath to reset the atmosphere and replace their grimaces with more gracious, welcoming smiles before he would open the doors to the meeting. “If the Chief Regent is going to buy the rest, he must have this, and it’s up to you to deliver it to him.”

  Rashid was tired from the prolonged shuttle diplomacy of the past several months. Add to that the near-constant refereeing of the Ellies in the Commonwealth, and he felt like an exhausted mother who’d been cooped-up too long with temperamental children. The two senators were merely the latest oligarchs to behave like adolescents. The lying and scheming—the impenetrable mistrust and thinly veiled false courtesies—was draining, especially as he tried to forge an arrangement that required cooperation.

  This is my penance, he thought. Well, the latest installment of my penance anyway.

  This project aside, Rashid’s duties as the Sultan’s “Special Envoy for Reconciliation” to the North American Commonwealth were generally light. Caliph Abdullah Azzam’s real ambassador knew his assignment was the equivalent of exile, and the Chief Regent of the Commonwealth, Edgar Reliant II, knew it too. As a result, Rashid was largely left alone. Industrious since childhood, though, he channeled his energy into the affairs of the International Energy Consortium, where his standing from the Petrol Wars was more significant. With decades of connections among the world’s elites, he made himself useful arranging marriages, brokering business deals, and settling various disputes—each service for a fee to replenish his family’s wealth.

  His falling out with the Caliph notwithstanding, he had too much time on his hands—which struck him as folly on the part of both the Caliph and the Chief Regent. Too much time, and too much opportunity for mischief with the Ellies of the IEC. The petroleros, like the executives of the other industrial trusts, rarely had their sovereigns�
�� interests at heart, and the reverse was just as true.

  Rashid was unsure, then, why the Chief Regent had summoned him the week before to Winnipeg for a special consultation.

  “Greetings, Ali Ibn al-Rashid,” the Chief Regent had said with a welcoming smile when Rashid entered the palace’s reception chamber. Rashid lowered his head and made the obligatory bowing-curtsy gesture.

  “It is my great honor, Your Excellency,” Rashid replied.

  The Chief Regent rose from his ornate wooden throne, thickly cushioned and canopied by a gold-leaf trellis. An admirer of the kings of the Middle Ages, Edgar Reliant sought to project an intimidating, regal air—even though the office of Chief Regent was not ordained by any divine right of kings, was not hereditary, and could—in extreme circumstances—be cut short by the Senate. Rashid was familiar with the purpose of pageantry nonetheless. Caliph Azzam had very similar props, as did the Emperor of China, the Ayatollah of Persia, and the Czar of the Russian Imperial Republic.

  Rashid again lowered his head and offered a deeper bow until the Chief Regent, suspected of harboring virulent racial biases, approached and embraced him as if they were family. The embrace—offered in front of his court and ministers—may have been nothing more than a veneer of tolerance for the official media stream, but it gave Rashid some hope that he might live through the day.

  Reliant then held Rashid’s shoulders at arm’s length and looked affectionately into the old man’s eyes.

  “Please come and sit beside me. It’s been too long since we shared ideas, and I welcome your good counsel on a number of matters.” Reliant dismissed his court and Ministers with a nonchalant flick of his wrist, intertwined an arm with Rashid’s, and started them on a stroll.

  “How go things with Caliph Azzam?”

  Rashid paused before answering, uncertain of Reliant’s meaning. You know perfectly well how things are, he thought. I am banished, I am cut off from his inner circle, and my family is hostage.