New Ranger Base, Canadian Rockies, November 5th, 2033
Explosions rock the craft, shrill screams piercing the sound muting qualities of her helmet, she hits the quick release straps, climbing out of the cockpit, as the door slides open she sees it…..chaos, screaming, blood splatter everywhere, fights through the panicked students, bellowing…….”MUM!!!!!!”
The scream echoes through the room, and she squirms in the chair, moving slightly before falling back into a drugged sleep.
The wall of video screens flashed with the images of a dozen different broadcasts, the varied sounds a babble of languages, voices….and in one case explosions, as live interviews mingled with documentaries and historical archive footage. The barrage of light and sound bounced and reflected from the haze of smoke hovering over the expensive and technologically advanced multi-dimensional map table in the center of the room, now littered with dirty plates, empty bottles of whiskey and a small collegiate pyramid of cheap Australian beer. The “war room” reeked of old food, bad booze, medicinal fumes and stale sex.
The door opened as a towering figure, well over seven feet tall entered, wrinkling his nose…..and began looking for the main remote.
“…….tonight, join ABC National News Desk Anchor Casey Becker, with a special guest and special report on the HomoSapienAlphus Integration Commission….“
“Fox News family today remembers the brutal murder of Chayse Weatherly a year ago, with a new documentary showcasing the Weatherly Report’s investigations of the so-called HomoSapienAlphus Amnesty Pledge Program, more commonly known to our viewers as the Homecon Directive……”
“PBS announces a new partnership with renowned reclusive archivist Dr Henrietta George, a program on the mythological constructs of the earliest HomoSapienAlphus within global cultural anthropology. This six expisode……..”
“In San Diego, recently elected President Stacey Foster-Graham, accompanied by her scientist first husband, Dr. William Graham-Foster and their teenage son Dr. Robbie Graham-Foster, an intellectual prodigy in his own right now attending MIT for his secondary doctorate in advanced exo-technology, approaches the monument to the fallen to place the first official memorial wreath……..
“Of course, we all remember the Battle of the Paragon Center, and the lives lost on both sides, the scene here depicting the evacuation underway of the Alliance Academy as the battle rages, the now iconic picture of the unknown stricken door gunner. We now know…….“
The giant of a man spied the remote lying on the floor next to the chair in which she lay curled up in a ball, the light snoring evidence of how much alcohol she had consumed the night before, and presumably well into the morning. He shook his head, she hated this day, and rightfully so. Still he smiled at the site of her beautiful, if scarred, face drooling on the arm of the semi-reclined chair, her brunette hair tangled, the streaks within the hair designed for her reflecting green, red, silver and so many other colors, standing out in comparison to her natural coloring. Most people who saw it loved or hated it, and of course parents eventually hated the fact that it couldn’t be recreated, although they didn’t know why those attempts failed. Fashion shows everywhere tried to figure out how she did it, never realizing that it had been a gift two years ago from Robbie on her birthday. After the week of rage mourning the memories, she had apologized and “worn” the memories ever since. Sleeping, even drunken sleeping, was the only time he ever saw her drop her game face, a face that appeared stoic and fierce at the same time. He didn’t blame her for it, she deserved peace however she found it, and the hangover wouldn’t last long. They had all lost friends and loved ones, but if the universe was keeping count, she had lost more than most.
He lifted her up easily, and turned to haul her off to the shower. As much as she hated this day, she had an appointment to keep. One she’d been putting off for a long time. One she’d finally decided needed to be finished.
Tempest Point, Alliance Home Facility, November 5th, 2023
“Fuck a wombat sideways, Livy, they’ll be here in time for dinner. Go set the fucking obstacle course on unlimited and run it for the next two hours!!!”
Her rambunctious and insanely excited daughter ducked her head into the master bedroom, “Sorry, Mum. I didn’t know ya were tryin’ ta sleep.”
“Sleep! Sleep! I can’t fuckin’ sleep……I’ve gotta bleedin’ piss again!”
Giggling a bit out of nervous energy, “Want some help gettin’ ta the pisser then, Mum?”
“No, fer godless tit’s sakes, I’m not an invalid, I’m just five month’s pregnant.”
“Ya, with twin monsters, I was listenin’ the last time ya know, Whitley said they are both going to be at least eight pounds, and that’s if she induces shortly after 8 months!“
“Fuck a wallaby, when did ya actually start payin’ attention to shit.”
“Uhm, well…..about that……Dad wanted me ta give him regular updates…….and he…….uhm, activated all the cameras wherever ya go.”
“What…..he’s a little perv,” and even the vaunted teenage hero Red Widow swallowed at that tone. “I’m goin’ to shoot him in the weddin’ tackle and watch him suffer while it fuckin’ heals. Then I’m going to shoot him again.”
“Yea, sure Mum, because that’s why ya two sounded like rampaging beasts just last weekend. Ya should warn a person, nobody should have to hear or think about a rabid snake and pregnant hip…..”
“Livy……where’s my soddin’ rifle, because I’m goin’ ta beat your ass……”
“Hey – its not my fault ya decided ya wanted to design more super soldiers on the wedding night……”
“Just shut the fuck up and help me out of this battleship of a bed so I can get ready for yer party……”
New Rangers Base, Colorado Rockies, November 5th, 2033
She could admit she’d been rather……frustrated. There, that sounded better than ripe and hungover. The shower had helped, the sex even better for her mood, but really the energy he always willingly offered the most important for restoring her balance for the day.
She lay curled up beside his massive frame. Even though she was within a couple inches of six feet tall, he still towered over her when they were standing next to each other, instead of wrapped around one another. His rumbling snore always made her smile, made her feel…..almost normal. Funny given that she’d never wanted to be normal growing up. Scars covered her body, from wounds that hadn’t healed in time, and he didn’t care. He stayed through it all, whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, whenever she needed him. More importantly, he gave her space when she needed to rage at the world. Loyal, dependable. He loved her, as they had loved . . . she shook her head to avoid the thought that would trigger a new wave of despondency. The goddesses knew that hardly anybody else could tolerate her. In return, she loved him as much as she was capable, and still knew inside that she’d sacrifice him if necessary to achieve her goals. But….finally, today, maybe…..just maybe, the truth would finally ring free. If nothing else justice would be served at her hand, at their hands; broadly and with no way to cover any of it up. The costs be damned. She, they, had already paid so many.
She moved slightly, so that she could kiss his chin, her hand caressing before grasping and lightly stroking him. She knew as soon as his breathing shifted, and she rolled on top of him, guiding him with a slight moan. His hands moved almost automatically to her hips.
Tonight might be the end of the plan. They had enough time….they had all the time in the world. The show couldn’t start without the guest of honor.
Maybe the pleasure could override the constant guilt at having used all her former friends, teammates and allies, the only real family she had left, to get to this moment.
She sat patiently on the bed, refreshed from another shower after the last hour of hot, screaming sex. Lost in memory, her fingers idly stroked the large shark’s tooth on the necklace around her neck. Smiling sadly, thirteen years ago they gave this to her, her father so worried about her first teen Halloween party, about her being attacked. Silly now. Every time Nano upgraded it, she insisted the necklace and the armor encompass all the add-ons her father had given her. They were all covered in blood now, hidden blood, wiped and scoured clean by the repair nanites, but still there. Every single drop, alien blood, animal blood; homosapien blood, Alphus or not, which still bled red and dried to black. He’d have understood. He’d have been saddened, but he’d have understood. Funny, even in the few short years she knew him, she’d come to know him, and understand him. Given all the lessons he’d tried to teach her, she was pretty sure he’d understand everything she’d done leading up to tonight’s mission. He’d have hated it too, but she liked to think he’d do the same. Or maybe they were just both a couple of psychopaths. Maybe they all were. Maybe you had to be to constantly fight, no matter which side you fought on.
“The choice is always yours Livy. As are the consequences, and the guilt. No matter how good you are, how good we can be in what we do, somebody always gets hurt. The question is who that will be and whether you can live with that?”
The memory, so vivid of that lesson, sitting on the edge of the parapet, eating ice cream sundaes with Hamilton’s screeches echoing throughout the base about making a mess of his kitchen. Watching the waves. She didn’t know what other teens had memories of, but she’d been adamant that she wanted to be a superhero, if not in words, then in actions, and when he’d finally acquiesced…..well, father/daughter bonding might be surfing or skiing or diving like normal kids but there was always training review, mission reviews, and……morality discussions. Like all teens, she thought in hard black and whites, good and evil, right and wrong. Her father understood……and yet…..
Movement shook her from the memories, and the blond man came out of the bathroom, towel dragging through his short blond hair, black armored uniform already on, highlighted in royal blue trim, the V of lightning bolts in the middle of his massive chest paying tribute to the name he’d chosen before they’d met so long ago, a name synonymous with healing, kindness, leadership.
He smiled, and she couldn’t help but feel her lips twist slightly in return. For just a moment, she thought about tossing it all away and heading to some small island in the South Pacific with him, but slowly reality returned, and she could see in his eyes that he would have gone….and knew just the same as soon as the thought left her consideration.
She didn’t even have to talk, she glided from the bed, tapping the sequence on the tooth, and her black armor trimmed in red flowed over her nearly naked, scar covered body, an Australian Redback spider appearing above her breasts. They walked slowly down the corridor to a door on the left, opened by retinal scans from both of them, and then he went in and picked up the old man inside, carrying him like a sack of potatoes, ropes strung through the trusses binding him from movement.
Onto the small airship they carried him. Enough for a pilot and maybe a dozen passengers if they squeezed, limited storage space for weapons underneath, but the ship had been built to carry weapons in the form of people.
Maybe one last time it would carry them away to safety. Maybe she no longer cared.
Sierra Nevada Moutains, Colorado Rockies, November 5th, 2033
The network had agreed to a special location for the initial meeting and interview, although now she regretted the venue. It would be meaningless to anyone other than her, and it sent a pang through her to see the crew, cameras and mass of network people traipsing through the mountain clearing. If they agreed fully, well then, the final broadcast location would be much more. . . on point.
She strode off the ramp into the mass of people, none of whom seemed in a hurry to rush out a greet her. While some praised the group she had led previously, war left long memories and the war had not ended that long ago, if it had truly ended with a piece of paper.
Finally a young man stepped forward, clearing his throat, “Ah, yes, um…Ms. . . . Widow,” phrased as a question, and with her shrug, he continued, “Ms. Widow, Mr. Becker wished to review the process with you…if you don’t mind, this way please.”
They walked towards a fairly large tent that had been erected in case of rain. Unlikely, but thorough. With no way for the assistant to knock, he cleared his throat before, “Mr. Becker. . .your, uh, guest is here.”
“Great, great, Andrew, show her in, please, please.” The melodious tones still sounded young and spirited, even after covering the national news for years during a slow but steady civil war, and of course having been brought to prominence covering the original Alliance over a decade ago.
The shaggy hair of his youth had bowed slightly to the requirements of the national desk, but his cheerful, politeness still rang true.
“Andrew, get us some coffee,” then looking at the armored woman, “how would you like it?”
“Black, with some Irish cheer.” She paused. “Please.” said as an afterthought, almost as if she was out of practice with….speaking.
Something about her presence pushed at his memory, but it wouldn’t come. Eventually, perhaps. She stood silently, hands hung loosely to her side, balance perfect, ready to strike, but he had seen it all before, if not from her, from other warriors, cops, soldiers, vigilantes. Heroes and criminals both, and considered them the lost souls of the last fifteen years. So much for human advancement, buried beneath the hate of the people who despised those different from others, and those in power who played with that hate to gain and hold power. In many ways he was as weary as she appeared to be, no matter how many exposes of corruption balanced by stories of hope. He’d seen the aftereffects of the war up close and personal, always the bodies and destruction. A wave of sour bitterness hit him suddenly. An unusual interview request on Alliance Day? No way in hell was that going to be good, even if it eventually proved extremely important and newsworthy to the country and the world.
He’d been surprised to get the request from the leader of the New Rangers. So shadowy, many had questioned over the last couple of years who the leader really was, given Affinity’s role as spokesperson, and Voltaic’s very public reputation as a healer. He had wondered, again just a few days ago, about whether rumors of her death, and Affinity’s as well, might prove to be true. Now in his early forties, he missed the old days, and shook his head every time the thought occurred to him. Constant conflict between the parties on all sides had turned the United States…into something he no longer recognized.
Andrew returned with the drinks, shaking him from his reverie, and the notion that he knew this woman in front of him. “Shall we begin a quick dry run of this evening’s broadcast then?”
At her nod, he started with the first segment………she listend politely as she used an old family friend, even if he didn’t recognize or remember her.
Paragon Alliance Memorial Park, Crosswook, November 5th, 2033 6:00 PM EST
“Good evening America and to all of those joining from around the world via your local networks or our global streaming service, for this special coverage of a new memorial holiday, known unofficially for the last five years as Alliance Day, in honor of all those heroes who died in defense of the innocent ten years ago today, as well as the thousands of citizens, soldiers and heroes who have suffered and paid the ultimate price in defense of this country, and this world, in those ten years during the terror attacks by members of the radical organization known as the UDP, or six years ago, the Second Anubis War, and of course all of those who lost there lives beginning ten years ago with the release of the HomoSapienAlphus Pathogen, the initial attack by a secret rogue governmental organization that killed so many people with the HomoSapienAlphus gene, including both some of the greatest heroes of the time as well as some of the so-called villains, thos who followed Martial Law on Avalon.”
“I am Casey Becker, and I will be joined by several guests, some in person, and some via virtual streaming as we provide our coverage over the next couple of hours, including a short message of hope in regards to the new amnesty bill pushed by an overwhelmingly bipartisan Congress and signed by President Foster-Graham. The President will join us towards the end of the originally scheduled hour of our special tonight. However, as we have been advertising, we have a special guest, who…..which I know this will disappoint those for a few minutes, shall remain nameless, until the beginning of our previously unscheduled second hour of coverage tonight. A guest that has insight not only into the operations of the New Rangers, and their activities, of the last five years, but also will bring a personal eyewitness account to the day ten years ago that we now know as Alliance Day. Which is why some of you may have noticed that I’m broadcasting live from the outskirts of Alliance Park, an unusual request from our mystery guest…..”
She sat in the pilot seat of Ranger One, formerly Drogon One. She’d always thought Titan and Ghost Venom’s naming of the AI in the aircraft a little strange, but the original Khaleesi portrayal had been beautiful, and the craft named in her honeor had a rugged beauty, and had proven itself a tough beastie since its original christening. While they’d eventually renamed the shipseveral years ago, they’d agreed on not re-naming the limited AI who assisted with craft function and repair. Nobody had wanted to name her after anybody they’d lost, so the initial joking name stayed. Her perpetual giant shadow sat beside her, scrunching his massive body into the copilot seat, legs propped up on the secondary weapons control system to give a bit of relief as they watched Casey’s broadcast live a few hundred feet away.
“Incoming message,” she chuckled at Bunny’s sultry voice sounding so…..out of place for such a bare message.
“Pilot screen, enlarged,” she responded, the laughter leaving her voice.
Nano’s face appeared on the screen, waiting for an apparent count of three, before stating, “Tightbeam traffic secured and encrypted.”
“I thought we agreed to communications silence so nobody, most especially your father, could detect us before the mission,” she tried to say sternly, but Nano always had such an earnest look that it felt like kicking a puppy.
“He’s in with Mom getting ready for the presidential address. We’re good for a bit. Just wanted to check in and make sure the trigger time is still 9:15 PM Eastern.”
“Yes, based on your data, ya knucklehead, based on all the communication time lags, it may take an hour to replicate globally and then another thirty minutes for all function to be……terminated. The amnesty period ends at 11:57 PM Eastern, so for the team to be protected, we can’t run much later. None of it can be even close to happening after 11:45 PM, just to be safe.”
“Are you still sure?” The plea seemed to be directed at her companion. He shrugged, nodded and cut the air in front of his neck in the universal gesture.
“You know they’ll try to stop you. The Legacies, I mean.”
“If I trigger it on time there won’t be anything to stop. If we don’t, it will be up to you to do it at 9:15. You still ok with that?”
“Yes. These devices are the cause of much corruption and violence.”
“Yes,” she replied coldly. “Yes, they are.”
“I’m ending the transmission, Nano,” the young teenager on the other end smiled broadly at the code name. “Don’t call again tonight unless there’s an urgent issue. Its imperative your part in this never be determined. And our friends…….my family deserve a proper……memorial.” She sighed, “Cut Transmission, Bunny.”
“Transmission ended.”
She looked at the blonde man and said, “What?”
He pulled his feet back under him, leaning forward, laying his hand on her knee, and then moved his right hand into several signs.
She smiled, softly and sadly. “I know,” then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
She stood up, “Looks like I’m about up. You’ll know when.” Then suddenly she bent down, taking his head in both hands, “Just in case,” she took a deep breath, “I never, not once, thanked you for everything you did for them. Everything you suffered.” Kissing him again, more deeply, then taking another deep breath, “You are the kindest man……person……I’ve ever known, other than” . . . His blue eyes saddened at the reference and she quickly moved on, “You……you…… deserved better than me. You all did. But I’m glad you’re here, ya dumb ox. I……..” He smiled, a smile that she recognized, but otherwise didn’t move. “I know, you ox, that I don’t have…….but I do, at least once.” Smiling, she bent down, whispering into his ear, “I love you.” Then she kissed him again, stood up, and walked out of the cockpit.
TO BE CONTINUED
Last Dreams 