Son of Sedonia

27

Sacrifice


SATO STOOD EXACTLY where he least wanted to be: at the front of a legion of grieving families. From the elevated stage in the Mesa Park Amphitheater, he waited for the Anthem of the Fallen to play its final notes. He had learned to dread that song. Played at every EXO officer’s funeral since the founding of the Border, it meant that he would have to look the bereaved in the eyes, and tell them their lost loved ones were heroes. The men and women of the EXOs certainly were. But every word of Sato’s rehearsed justifications made him feel ever more like a fraud. Thankfully it was almost over.

As the final somber note died in the choir, the mother of Officer Dreivan, one of the KIA Red Gate conscripts, stepped up to the podium. The short, husky woman, red-faced and dressed in a knock-off brand black dresscoat, shakily adjusted the microphone. Another working-class woman ’whose son had probably joined the EXOs to pay for school. She removed a piece of paper from her purse. Unfolded it. She took the time to write it down...on paper. Sato swallowed in a dry throat. The woman’s voice trembled as she spoke.

“Uhmm...I...” she lowered her head. Raised it. “There’s nothing I can say...to express what we’re going through. The loss... The loss of a child is devastating. Our boy...our man, Dreivan was more precious to us than life itself.” Naked grief flowed out of her in stepped, forced words. The momentum was the only thing keeping her going. In the middle of it, Sato felt Jada let go of his hand. When he looked, his wife had it clasped over her mouth. Tears streamed down her cheeks. When Sato went to touch her, she broke down and quickly excused herself from the stage. As the speaker continued, Sato realized everyone was watching him.

“But Dreivan believed in his City. He wanted to make a difference, and that’s what he did. He died...he died to protect us all,” the mother finished and stepped down to thunderous applause. Sato joined in as he wrestled with what to do. If I go after my wife, it could look like I’m abandoning these people...but...if I don’t go after her, I’ll be slammed for being insensitive. Like most decisions these days, he was f*cked either way. He chose Jada. Felt the cameras watch him leave.

Sato found her by the pools, sitting alone on a curving park bench. She sat totally still, watching kids and families glide in circles over the water. Gentle ripples moved the surface as the patrons each banked and swayed on rented hover-domes. Some held hands as they went around, or waved to their younger siblings playing in the sand on shore.

The miscarriage. Sato realized. It would be six years ago this week. He turned to the Secret Service agents who had followed him, and gave the signal to hang back. Sato crossed to the front of the bench and sat down next to Jada. She sniffled.

“I’m sorry,” Jada said, “I didn’t mean to make you leave, I just...All those families...talking about losing sons and daughters, I...it’s like I was in the hospital all over again. Our baby...” Jada choked as Enota put his arm around her and pulled her close. After a string of heavy sobs, she tensed. Sat up.

“Oh God, I’m so f*cking selfish! Those people watched their kids grow up. Sacrificed for them. My pain is nothing compared to theirs.”

Sato felt a vice grip squeeze his chest. What have I done? He looked away from her. Hung his head.

“No...I’m sorry,” said Sato. Jada turned and wiped her eyes. Furrowed her brow at him.

“Enota, you haven’t done anything wrong,” she reached out and grasped his hand, “Why be sorry?”

“I—” he paused, “I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me today. I was so preoccupied with the politics and decorum that I didn’t take the time to consider your feelings,” said Sato. The best lies contained partial truths. I’m doing this for my family! The justification was flimsy, but it held.

“You sweet, sweet man,” she said, “You have forty million people to think about, and you consider my feelings just fine. Pretty sure that makes you extraordinary.” She smiled and wiggled closer to him on the bench. Laid her head on his shoulder. The sounds of laughing and splashing came from the skating pool as a father and son banked their hover-domes, spraying clear water on a mother and baby on the shore. The mother laughed, picked up a clod of sand, and threw it. The baby tried, but just grabbed gritty fistfuls. Sato realized he had relaxed. For the first time in years, it seemed. He ran a hand on the black silk of Jada’s funeral dress, remembering her curves.

“What if we...revived the adoption discussion?” he asked. Jada pushed up abruptly.

“What? You wanna buy me a new kid to cheer me up? Real smooth,” she said. Sato bristled a moment, fearing some fresh trouble. But Jada’s poker face had never been worth a damn. The grin cracked the corners of her mouth in seconds. Both of them burst out laughing.

“Uh oh! Careful that the cameras don’t see you. You’re supposed to be sad!” Jada added, hysterical. Sato doubled over, breathless. His face hurt by the time it died down. They both sat back and sighed. After the calm settled over them again, Sato laced his fingers in hers.

“Seriously, though,” he said, looking directly into her emerald eyes. She had blushed from laughing, but now the color seemed to deepen. Brushing her graying hair aside, she nodded slowly. Smiled.

“Yeah...okay. Let’s talk more about that,” Jada said. Sato smiled back, but a sudden pulse in his ear warned of an incoming call. He raised a hand to dismiss it when the heads-up message appeared. ‘Andreas Calling,’ it read. Sato darkened. Stood.

“I have to take this. Are you gonna be—”

“I’m fine,” Jada said, smiling, “I think I’ll stay here a little while. Go be the Governor.”

Sato leaned in, planted a kiss on her, then turned away. He tapped ‘Answer’ and kept his voice hushed as he trotted to the main path.

“Andreas...? Where’s Kabbard? What’s your situation?”

“That’s just it, sir. The situation has...escalated. I gave my recommendation to Mr. Kabbard that we call you for a sit-rep, but he refused.”

“What the f*ck do you mean, ‘escalated’?!” Sato hissed.

“The POI evaded capture, but we’re in pursuit and closing fast.”

“Well what kind of pursuit are we talking about here?” Sato spoke through his teeth, “A foot chase there on Themis? Because you don’t sound winded, Andy.”

“No sir...we’re...two hours from Earth orbit. Nicks and Mr. Kabbard are in the other Fury, and I’m following. The target stole the Zeus.” Andreas’ tone had changed rapidly from lap-dog into a sheep. Sato felt himself start to lose it as the spineless climber continued.

“There was a situation at the prison that Mr. Kabbard ordered us to investigate, a riot or disturbance of some kind near the prison sic-bay. The target got away in that time.”

“Put me on with Kabbard. Right now,” Sato said. Andreas started the connection as the Governor stepped into a wide tunnel along the park path. He pressed himself against the wall and waited as the ringtone pulsed once. Twice. Three times.

“Sir,” Kabbard finally answered. Bastard. He knows he’s in for an ass-chewing and he’s still playing the Cop. It put Sato off-balance as he pressed his throat mic.

“John. I just got some shit news from Andreas that I should have gotten from you. Explain.”

“Focused on the job, Mr. Sato. We’ll have the package in hand for you shortly.”

Always to the point. Sato had never known John Kabbard to make a mistake. Sounded like the man took it personally. And if John took it personally... May God have mercy on anyone who gets in his way. Though there was no reason not to poke the bear.

“Glad to hear it! But please be aware, John, we cannot afford any more mistakes on your end. In the future, I do expect to be kept informed of any developments by you. Not one of your subordinates.”

“Understood,” Kabbard said.

“Good,” Sato said. Paused. “The boy...he was a match?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah...” Sato’s mind swam with the implication. Alan’s son. His flesh and blood. Sato braced himself on the cold concrete wall. Shook his head as if it would clear the descending fog. “...and this ‘disturbance’ on Themis...anything I should be worried about?” he asked. Silence followed the question. Sato felt the hope for a casual ‘No, sir, it’s all okay’ crumble.

“That’s—Warden Drummond assured me that everything’s under control.”

“And do you believe him?”

“Lost comms with ‘em two hours ago. Could be nothing, but I suggest you get your friends on the horn and send whatever you can up there ASAP,” said Kabbard.

Sato pinched his eyes shut and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you. John,” Sato said, “I expect good news the next time you call.”

“Yes, sir. Kabbard out,” he hung up.

Sato felt more dismissed than reassured, but it was Kabbard or no one. He groped through his mind for comfort, trying to recall the finer points of the former Sergeant’s extensive resumé and character references. Twenty years in the EXOs. Fourteen of those in a command role. Decorated veteran of the Summer Siege, Falari Market Standoff, and the Doco Uprising. Wounded twelve times in the line of duty...he’ll get it done. Turning to leave his alcove, ‘Incoming Call: PRG’ appeared in front of him. God dammit.

“Hello Enota,” Janice Prescott’s dried wrinkles creased the edges of her smile.

“Janice! Speak of the devil, I was just about to call you...”

“Yes, we know. Mr. Kabbard’s appraisal of the developing situation on Themis is understandable, if a touch dramatic. We are looking into it and will make a judgment soon,” said Janice. Sato felt the imagined fingers around his throat loosen. He breathed a sigh.

“But the Moon isn’t what concerns us, Enota. The Rindal boy, and your failure to apprehend him, is,” Janice said as her thin lips flattened. The spectral fingers tightened again on Sato’s neck. Thankfully, the Neural augments that had served him so well in public debate did their job. Minimize.

“A momentary setback. The boy’s chip may have been disabled, but the Zeus has an integrated tracking system. Wherever he goes, John Kabbard will find him.”

“You’re sure of this? The man has an impeccable record, yes, but we understand that he’s not as sympathetic to our aims as you are, Enota. Let us know if we can provide assistance in resolving this issue,” said Prescott. Sato kept his face frozen still. And prove me totally incompetent to the Board. Obsolete. The Raid debacle had no doubt already hurt his standing. This would push it over a cliff.

“John Kabbard is driven, loyal, and now very, very pissed off. He’ll get it done. Sending company assets would complicate things, risking a bigger splash than we can afford.”

“We agree…for now. The impact of the boy’s exposure to the public is an unknown quantity that we do not want to risk. Even if he remembers nothing about his father, his name alone could cause significant, untimely waves. A dangerous possibility for all concerned, we think you’ll agree,” Prescott leaned back in her chair. Sato brooded over the phrase. ‘All concerned.’ The conspiracy theorists had calmed down with their Rindal ideas over the years, and it had taken that long for Sato’s damage control to do its work. If Aden shows up alive? With even a shred of proof? It could make Alan a martyr, validating everything that the man had said to the press. Ruinous.

“We expect good news the next time we call,” said Prescott.

The feed cut out, leaving Sato alone in the shadowed tunnel. ‘Call Ended. Memory Block 081080_1210p: Deleted.’ He patted himself down, searching for his flask. Winced when he realized Jada had made him leave it at home.

“Enota?” Jada’s voice called down the tunnel. He must have looked like death because she withered at the sight of his face. I don’t deserve you. The thought occurred to him out of the fog as she embraced him

“Let’s go home,” she said, rubbing his back, “I’ll help draft a statement saying I got sick, and you took me back to the house.”

“You go,” said Sato, “I’ll be fine...just have to go make another appearance at the ceremony then take care of some things at the office. I’d feel better knowing you’re home safe.”

“Okay, but later you’re telling me what’s going on. I’m your wife, not your constituency.”

He kissed her.

“I promise,” Sato said. He’d think of a suitable lie before then. One small addition to the list of reasons to hate himself.