Son of Sedonia

45

Birthright


MATTEO DROWNED IN the space between sleep and consciousness. The memories of his life whipped through him with no sense of order or time. His capture on the Superway replayed in front of him, teasing his sense of the present enough to pull him awake. Harness straps held him in a hard plastic seat. Two figures sat with their backs to him in the cockpit ahead. The image blurred as the stern, suited men morphed into Alan and Patricia. Mom and Dad.

Everything snapped to high-detail. The smell of plastic and his mother’s orange-cream perfume in the transport cabin. The sound of their voices murmuring to one another...getting louder. He felt his soft blanket brush smoothly over his delicate skin. Then it all went wrong. So loud. His entire world started shaking as he cried from the car-seat. Mom’s body went limp. His Dad’s face reflected in the glass. ‘...remember forever...we’ll always love you!’

The hatch opened beside him and, for a moment, Jogun stood there. But as his young older brother climbed in to take him home, it transformed into one of Kabbard’s men. The bug-eyed blonde one with the cold straight face.

This is real! He jumped away inside, then realized his body didn’t follow. Fuzzy dullness buried all his limbs in thousand-ton cotton. The blonde went to work on the strap buckles, tossed them aside, then pulled Matteo out of the seat by the arms.

“At f*ckin’ last!” one of them said.

“Seriously,” said the other.

Matteo could only watch as his body flopped to the ground. Pain shot through him, giving his limbs a sickening jolt. They woke up in waves. Suddenly he could move his head. His legs and feet dragged on some kind of landing pad. As he looked around, he realized something was off. No buildings anywhere to the left or right. Not behind him either. Only the dead, navy sky of pre-dawn, stretching on forever, and a thin tower poking up into the sky from the pad. A tiny red dot blinked at its peak. The same light that had lulled him to sleep on more nights than he could count. Sedonia Tower! The only building tall enough to stand above all the others.

They dragged his waking body down a curving ramp to a steel plated door, and buzzed their way in. Matteo put weight on his feet, but they were kicked out from under him.

“No sir, no more running for you,” said the blonde. The two flights of stairs beat his feet and shins so badly that he let himself go limp at the bottom. Better if they think I can’t move, anyway...

He was brought to a wide open room off the hallway. High, bright ceilings. Men and women wearing what had once been neat, rigid clothes paced through the arrangements of sleek furniture, babbling into their Neurals. Panic hung rotten in the air as Matteo listened and kept still.

“Well can you confirm or can’t you? I’ve already got reports of three Inner Ring attacks in Shibuya, Montos, and The Primaeum, I need to know if you’re telling me about one of those, or a new one! You’re in Whitlatch...?—Hey, we got another sighting in Whitlatch! Insurgents coming up from the municipal buildings!”

“...flyby has verified, EXO HQ has been destroyed, and our assets on the ground are dropping fast!”

“This is Governor Sato! All patrol birds in the air, deviate to intercept the Inner City targets, repeat, deviate to intercept Inner City targets!— Christ, where are the f*cking Feds?! Somebody try Prescott agai—” The man stopped as Matteo was deposited in front of the broad, crescent moon desk. The rest of the room stopped with him. Stared.

Matteo looked up wearily and squinted to study the man’s expression. It read like a leather-bound book. Wide-eyed. Thin mouth gaped. Thick chin quivering slightly. But why? Even with his fine-tuned memory, Matteo had never seen this person before. But this ‘Governor Sato’ looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Sir?” said one of Matteo’s handlers.

“Uhh...umm...Nicks, Andreas...great job guys...lock him down in the suite for now, I—my City is burning,” Sato said.

“Yes sir.” Matteo heard them groan as they turned around.

“Alright, time to walk,” said the squat, short-haired one called Nicks, “Tired of carrying your ass.”

They picked Matteo up and set him down on stinging feet. He could carry his weight again. The office revved back to life with phone calls and voice commands as he was escorted to the door. But a woman entered before they could leave. Middle-aged, full-figured, and beautiful, with smoke-colored hair flowing over the back of her summer dress.

“Enota!” she called into the room. The Governor raced around the edge of his desk, pushed past a few assistants, and took her in his arms.

“Oh thank God, Jada!” Sato said, “When I heard about Shibuya—”

“Shhh...I’m here. I’m safe. And you need to get back to—Who is this?” she asked, looking Matteo over. Something warm and reassuring about her face...the concern written there. Sato seemed to tip off balance.

“Oh—this...this is—”

“Aden,” Matteo said, “My name is Aden.” He felt Nicks and Andreas tighten their grip, but they stopped short of showing it.

“Aden...” said Jada. The sweet cream color drained from her expression as she turned to Sato, “...Rindal?”

Sato’s stunned silence seemed to be enough of an answer for her. She touched her fingers to her lips as tears welled in her eyes.

“My poor baby!” she said, leaning in to embrace him. Andreas stopped her with a firm hand. Shook his head.

“Wha—? What’s going on here...Enota?” Jada asked. Matteo looked for an answer too, starving for the pieces he was clearly missing.

“Jada I...I can’t right now,” Sato said.

“You’d damn well better try!” said Jada, unmoved. Sounds of distant combat chattered in the stillness.

“I—we found him—”

One of Sato’s aides jumped out of his seat.

“Sir! Just got a line from Prescott, the military is mobilizing!”

A cheer ripped through the office. People hugged each other. Some kissed. Sato drooped, puffing a leaden sigh.

“Package our intel and set up the Feed! I want them patched through to commanding officers on the ground ASAP!” His smile dimmed as he turned back to Jada, “I’m sorry, there’s—”

“Go,” she said, “The City needs you...but we’re far from finished here.”

Jada followed behind with her escort as Andreas and Nicks pulled Matteo down the arched corridor. Dim, yellow light fixtures glowed on the walls, casting strange reflections as they walked. Matteo twisted his head back to steal another glimpse of Jada, but a sharp tug from Andreas and a hidden gun barrel in his ribs told him to try again later. They won’t do much while she’s around... The main threads of a plan wove together in his mind as he got to the elevators.

“Where are you taking him?” Jada asked. Andreas punched a button on the wall panel and stared at the closed metal doors. “Uh huh, okay...” said Jada as she squeezed in between them and the doors. They opened behind her, “Think about laying hands on me again. Think real hard.”

“The Exec Suite,” Andreas finally said.

“Thank you,” Jada said. She nodded and stepped aside. Matteo watched her disappear behind the closing metal slabs, along with his flickering hope for escape.

When the elevator opened again, Andreas pushed Matteo out into a small, circular room with three carved wooden doors. High-backed chairs with curving animal legs stood guard next to each of them. Matteo’s boots clomped loudly on the marble floor as he stumbled to right himself.

“So he gets locked up in one of these? Really?” asked Nicks.

“That’s what the man said,” Andreas crossed to the center door and scanned his forearm on the side panel. It beeped. The door jarred with a soft click and Nicks pushed it open. He whistled as the lights came on inside.

The room was enormous. Big enough to house at least twelve Rasalla families and their relatives. The floor stepped down in plush carpeted terraces to a central area where high arched windows pushed up the ceiling. Couches, recliners, foot rests, and all other kinds of inviting, obese furniture sat waiting throughout the room in pleasing, flowing patterns. Matteo recognized a bar off in one corner with an array of handsome stools and back-lit bottles of liquor on the wall. A kitchen in another with pristine, high-end versions of appliances he’d seen dropped from Pit Scows. And there were other doors set in the perimeter walls. MORE rooms...? No fantasy he’d had on the roof of the rusted family apartment ever came close to this.

A fist rammed into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Matteo doubled over on the floor, coughing. His hands sank into the silky, fat threads of the carpet.

“Don’t get too comfortable, shithead,” said Nicks, cracking meaty knuckles. Matteo fought for breath as the two goons walked out of the room and slammed the door. His airway winked open with each sucking gasp, gradually making the familiar sound. He gnashed his teeth together. Forced himself to sit back on his heels.

The room was dead quiet. Against the ringing in his ears and wheezing in his throat, his every move made some kind of god awful noise. The City clothes chafed him. He tore his puffy white vest off and flung it aside, followed by each of his skin-tight long sleeves. The boots weighed heavy on his legs. He clawed at the buckles and yanked them off one by one, freeing his calloused bare feet. Better. He winced as he rocked forward to stand.

The thought of looking for a weapon crossed his mind. There had to be one somewhere. A knife from the kitchen, maybe, to sink into Nicks’ skull. But as he looked around, feeling the carpet caress his toes, his body begged him to relax. To take it in. He limped down the carpeted terraces to the common area and ran his rough fingers over the supple fabric of a couch. The cushion swallowed his hand as he pressed into it. On the low glass coffee table, a colorful mutant plant reached out of a silver vase. He took one of its velvet red and yellow petals between his thumb and forefinger. Smelled the sweet, heady fragrance. It gave him a fleeting buzz.

Boom. The low thud vibrated the still, clean air. Matteo looked to the arched bay window and saw a burst of hot orange rise into the twilit sky. As it faded, another rose. Fainter and further away to the left. Boom. The distant sound caught up with it. Matteo felt sick as he took a step toward the window, the floral perfume still in his nose.

Boom. B-boom...

He reached his reflection in the crystal glass, cupped his hands against it, and looked through. Fires. Great twisting columns of blackening fire swirled up to the sky from places throughout the dark, vertical landscape of Sedonia City. The tiny point-lights of ships darted through the structures, firing bursts of white streaks. A few ships popped in flashes of light as they crashed into glass and steel. Matteo staggered away from the window. The reflection of his heavenly prison surrounded him, broken by the molten clouds rising in the distance. His hands balled into fists.

He picked up the silver vase, dashed the flowers over the couches, and threw it crashing through the coffee table. Shards of glass dug into the soles of his feet as he grabbed the legs of a plush white chair. Flipped it over backwards.

“It’s not real!” he screamed as he picked up a slender standing lamp, “None of it’s f*cking real!” He turned and threw it at the bay window. It bounced harmlessly off, leaving a pathetic scuff mark on the safety glass. In midstep to try and use the lamp as a club, Matteo heard voices from outside. Shouting.

Matteo sprang up and sprinted to the kitchen, tracking bloody footprints behind him. As the main door beeped open he spotted a wooden block of knives, yanked out the biggest one, and ducked behind the counter, slipping in his own wet tracks. The wheezing betrayed his struggle to keep quiet.

“Aden?” a woman’s voice called out. Jada... His grip on the knife handle loosened, but he stayed down, listening in breathless silence.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“Tried to tell you, ma’am, the kid’s dangerous! You shouldn’t—”

“Get out. Both of you.”

“Ma’am, your safety is—”

“You would have to drag me out,” she said, “Making my safety a moot point. So I’ll repeat. Get. Out.”

A silent moment passed. Then the door shut.

“It’s just you and me now,” said Jada, “I brought some food...unless you’ve found something in the kitchen.”

Matteo tensed, seeing the bloody trail he’d left on the floor. He leaned slowly out from behind the counter. Saw Jada with her back turned, setting a steaming tray on a long, glass table. Rich smells of sweet meat and exotic spices drifted over to him. He got up, hesitated, then set the knife down on the counter.

“Come. Have a seat with me,” she said, pulling out a chair for him. The tray made his mouth water. A slab of thick, brown meat sat in its juices on a square plate, flanked by steaming green veggies and a soft, fluffy pile of something he’d never seen.

“Catering leftovers, I’m afraid...but I’ve brought them back to life as best I could. Hanger steak, green beans, and mashed potatoes.”

When he didn’t move, she sat in the chair adjacent and began cutting the steak into bite-size chunks. She stuck a fork in one and took a bite.

“See?” she said, smiling with her mouth full, “Delicious.”

Matteo couldn’t help but smile back. He slowly crossed to the table. Sat down. His eyes darted between Jada and the plate of food.

“Go ahead,” said Jada. He reached forward and picked up a piece of steak with his fingers. Brought it slowly to his lips. As he bit down, salty-sweet juice flooded his mouth. Hunger took over everything. He dug in. Jada smiled wide as his cheeks filled to bursting.

“Not much to eat in Rasalla, is there?” she asked. He froze mid-mouthful. Swallowed hard.

“No—” he coughed, “No, ma’am...” She handed him a glass of pure clear water. He gulped it down.

“I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for you. All those years...I’m so sorry, baby,” she said, “We searched everywhere after the crash. Even after they told us all three of your family’s chips had been disabled by the...by the people who found you.”

Feeling the ghost of the alien object under the flesh of his forearm, Matteo put down the empty glass. His hands retreated from the table to his lap.

“Why?” he asked, looking up into the strange woman’s eyes. The blue-green circles trembled as they looked back at him. Drops filled and crept down her cheeks.

“Sweety, I’m your Godmother. Enota, the man you met upstairs, he’s your Godfather. Your parents... When your mother, Patty, was pregnant with you, she and your father asked us to be your Godparents. To take care of you if anything should ever happen to them.”

Boom. Boom. The far off explosions rippled gently through the windows. Jada saw his glance shift to the skyline. She reached forward and placed her soft, smooth hand on his.

“It’s okay,” she said, “This’ll all be over when the military gets here. In the meantime, you’re safe here with us...safe for the rest of your life... If you want.”

His heart ached as the words rolled in his head. He shifted his gaze around the room. This palace in the sky. From it, he would never have to look up again. He could read every magazine, every book. Ride the Superway...hell...buy his own flying car. Date beautiful women and drink at the most exclusive clubs. Eat the best food in the world at any time of day and never go to bed hungry again. And leave it all behind one day. Flyin’ to the stars on the Narayana.

Then there was the blood on the floor. A stark red path leading to the rich meal in front of him...leading to the woman who would be his mother. The dark memories rushed in like tear gas, flipping the hot meal in his belly. He jerked his hand away from Jada’s and stood up. Jada sighed.

“Aden...”

BOOM! Sedonia Tower shook beneath their feet. Spiderweb cracks shocked through the massive bay windows as Jada screamed. Matteo dropped to the floor, then scrambled to cover behind the kitchen counter. There, he remembered Jada. Before he could get up to help her, the door swung open and Andreas and Nicks ran inside.

“Mrs. Sato!” Andreas shouted.

“We’re here!” Jada answered. Andreas scanned the room with his gun drawn as Nicks collected her.

“Come with us, ma’am, we’ve gotta get you down to the bunker with the others!” said Nicks.

Jada pulled away.

“Not without Aden! He’s family, he’s coming too!” she yelled in Nicks’ face.

“Forgive me, ma’am,” Nicks stooped then picked Jada up over his shoulder. She screamed. Cried. Spat curses as she buried her fists and elbows into his back. Nicks cringed, but kept moving to the door. Andreas covered their exit, pointing his pistol wherever he looked.

“ADEN! ADE—!” The door slammed shut behind them. Matteo grabbed the knife and leaned out of cover. Andreas stalked the room.

“Come on out, you piece of shit,” Andreas said, “I’m not gonna hurt you...”

Matteo heard lying curl in the man’s voice. He stayed put.

“Mr. Sato says he needs you...told us to keep you...SAFE!” Andreas darted around the counter where the blood trail stopped. Matteo had crawled to the opposite side.

“You know what? I say f*ck that. You’re one of them! Bullshit Rasalla garbage...you deserve to burn like all the rest of them. With Sato on the way out, I made a little call...and Ms. Prescott’s gonna pay me a fortune to kill you. Maybe even a couple seats on the—-AAHHHH!”

Matteo slashed the back of Andreas’ leg, sending the man crashing to the floor. A quick elbow to the goon’s outstretched arm released the gun. Matteo grabbed it. Pointed it right between Andreas’ shifty, terrified eyes. Rasalla burned white-hot in Matteo’s heart.

“H-hey man...you know I didn’t mean all that, right?”

“Men like you deserve to die for what you do to us,” said Matteo, leaning in close to Andreas, “But I already broke my promise once.” Matteo lifted the gun and brought the butt down on Andreas’ temple, knocking him out cold.

“I won’t break it again.”

Matteo got to his feet and limped through the door to the elevator. No buttons. Just some kind of flat scanner panel. He tried pressing his thumb to it as Andreas had done, but it flashed red instead of green. Dead end. He raced back into the room and looked around. They wouldn’t have locked him in if there were another exit. But maybe I could make one... He remembered the cracked windows and ran over to one. Looked down. Not far below this floor, there was a landing. Some kind of a garden patio with tables and chairs.

He found his boots, slipped them over his stinging feet, then found the knife. The smooth underskin of his forearm looked up at him. He probed it with a finger. The edges of the thing underneath blurred through the skin and muscle. It carried the truth. All that he was meant to be, all that was stolen from him, and and all that he became. But so long as it was there, he would be hunted. People around him would die. There could be no life in the clouds or the stars, no matter how much he had dreamed about it. He blinked back tears.

But here he felt the familiar pull. The deep Knowing that had always stayed with him, even when hope had gone.. Utu’s lesson drifted up from his childhood. ‘It is up to you to follow it or not.’

Okay...

Matteo aimed the knife-tip to the left of the veins he could see. He took a deep breath. Pushed the point in. Fire shot up his arm to his shoulder as he widened the cut. Stopped. He almost blacked out as he reached in. Blood gushed out onto his fingers and hand and ran down his elbow, dripping to form a puddle on the floor. Slowly, he pressed the buried square of plastic toward the wound.

He felt an electric shudder ripple through him as the chip popped out in his fingers. It was a clear blue square with gold circuitry crawling over its surface in minute, maze-like patterns. Like a Falari jewel... Staring deep into it, Matteo swooned. His entire arm glistened red in the clean white lights of the suite. He picked up one of his black discarded sleeves and wrapped it around his arm, pulling tight. The blood soaked through, but the fabric seemed to hold.

Matteo raised his light head and looked at the cracked bay window. Breathing deep into his belly, he took out the gun. Aimed. Exhaled. Fired. The glass shattered in an explosion of shards and dust, sucked out into the high, thin air. He walked to the opening. Took out the chip.

“I’ll always remember,” Matteo promised. He stretched his arm over the edge and dropped the chip. Watched it plummet out of sight.

Without the glass, the drop to the landing looked a lot further. But the side of the tower sloped down to the garden, and the windows looked smooth enough. He ran to the couch, grabbed a fat cushion, and returned to the edge. His heart pounded in his chest.

One. Two. THREE!