The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution) (28 page)

“So, Uncle
Ed,” Cynthia asked, “When are we all leaving for Mars?”

Ed rolled his
eyes while twisting his mouth, whimsically pretending to do
calculations in his head. “Not for at least a week.” Ed had changed
so much since first meeting the three-foot image of him in the room
with the great round bed.

“Is there room
for all of us?” Cynthia asked.

“When the
three colonies are completed, there’ll be room for anyone who wants
to go.”

“What will the
total capacity be,” Lorna asked.

“One hundred
and forty-four thousand.”

“So many?”
Cynthia questioned. “Wow. There are only a couple of thousand of
us.”

Ed did his
little impression of calculating with the rolling eyes accompanied
by twisted mouth again. “Three thousand sixty of The Others and
eighteen hundred hybrids live on earth at the last count. Nineteen
hundred of The Others, six hundred hybrids, and seventy humans are
on Mars. I get weekly counts.”

“Poppy, why so
few humans?”

“In space,
humans suffer from bone loss and cosmic radiation. The hazards are
insignificant on passages to and from the Moonbase, but going to
Mars is different. In the days before Pulse Engines and Solar
Sails, the trip took six months. Neither humans nor hybrids could
take the trip. Leading a crew composed of The Others, Aunt Claire’s
son Charles completed the first successful trip. With improvements
in propulsion, the travel time decreased, making the voyage
practical for hybrids. Humans are still another matter.”

“How are there
any humans on Mars?” Lorna asked.

“Not without
sacrifice. In the early days, humans who made the voyage arrived in
bad shape. Cosmic radiation reduced their lifespan by an average of
twenty years. Bone loss turned many into semi-invalids, even in the
reduced gravity. Cancers killed most, but before they died, a few
had children. Their descendants live in the colonies today.”

The
large monitor above the refreshment stand flashed a promotion for
the newest television series,
Gang Country
.

Lorna frowned
when a knot of teen hybrids cheered the fierce gang leader with
tattooed scalp on a shaved head while he gunned down a rival in a
show of gore reminiscent of the old blooder kills. “Just what we
need. Another program to glorify dirtballs.”

“
I read
somewhere the network’s putting it against
Gangs of America
on the Government News Network,” Cynthia
said.

“
That
damned GNN. I can’t count how many good officers were hurt or
killed by some little doped-up kid who fancied himself to be one of
Simon’s gang leaders,” Lorna said bitterly. Simon George produced
and narrated
Gangs of America
.

“Well,”
Cynthia said. “At least the Man-boy love fad seems to be
fading.”

“About time,
after twelve years. Don’t get me started on them.” Lorna said.

“Hopefully,
we’ll leave all this behind when we move to Mars.” Ed’s phone rang.
Glancing at the caller ID, he raised a single finger to excuse
himself to take the call. Meanwhile, a documentary about The
Dissolution began. The screen filled with vivid, colored images of
hardy National Guard soldiers setting fire to Washington, D.C.

The image of
an unfurled region flag profiled against the burning skyline seemed
to snare Cynthia’s attention. “Aunt Cassie had a role in that. She
was career military, you know.”

When a large
smile swept over Ed, Lorna’s face jerked upward with
anticipation.

Thanking the
caller, he hung up. Turning to the three women, he said, “We have a
cure.”

“Really?”
Lorna squealed. They collapsed into each other’s arms. Several
heads at nearby tables turned her way.

“Yes,” Ed
explained. “They gave ten volunteers the vaccine, isolating them
from pregnant females. All were cured within twenty-four hours. We
can inoculate everyone by the end of next week.”

“I have to
tell my mom,” Cynthia exclaimed.

“I’ll come
with you,” Valeria said. They walked toward the apartment wing,
arms entwined at the elbows in the fashionable South American style
of proper upper-class women. The disappointment among the young men
at their departure was almost palpable.

Ed’s stare
followed them, the statuesque paper-white female with long strides
beside the tan, finger-thin blonde who moved with a dainty mincing
walk. Yet, paradoxically, Valeria kept pace. His eyes didn’t leave
them until the entry door closed behind Valeria’s slender, tanned
butt, packed into a white thong bikini.

Realizing he’d
been caught, Ed diverted his stare. Not fooled, Lorna shook her
head with mirthful reproach. “Males are pigs.”

“Well I—uh—I
don’t know what to say,” he stammered.

“Say nothing,”
she said, placing a finger over his lips. “We’ve been saved. The
prophecy was fulfilled. Little else matters.”

Ed held the
hand with the finger crossing his lips. His face grew serious when
he replied, “Yes, but the second, more difficult one, lies
ahead.”

* * * *

With the
quarantine lifted, Lorna returned to work at OPD, staying long
enough to resign. Ed offered her a position as Deputy Head of
Security, a job that paid more in a month than she made in two
years with the police department.

“Think of your
lost retirement benefits,” Watch Commander Bell said at her
going-away party, in a last attempt to keep her.

“I did, sir,
which is one of the reasons why I’m leaving.” To smooth over her
directness, she added a short dissertation of gratitude for all the
wonderful opportunities the OPD had provided over the previous
twenty years.

He accepted
what both knew had been no more than an exchange of polite lies.
“If you need anything from us, don’t hesitate to ask.” Unspoken was
a request that she pay her old workplace the same courtesy. After
the recent budget cuts, corporation resources outstripped those of
the city, maybe the region.

“I won’t,” she
said, “If we can be of any help, just ask.”

They hung a
farewell banner across the squad room. Someone had recycled most of
the letters off the one from the New Year’s Eve party. The
lettering on the cake read, “Farewell, Lieutenant Winters. May All
Your Arrests result in Conviction.” At the end of her last shift,
she walked to the checkpoint, escorted by a uniformed officer,
because she no longer possessed a slide card to exit. Around her
neck, she wore the Civilian Service Medal the department had
awarded her. The gold plating demonstrated a high degree of regard,
considering the metal exceeded thirty thousand dollars an
ounce.

Lorna didn’t
give up the early-morning wake-ups easily. Usually, she awoke
before dawn, lying in the darkness pressed against Ed, listening to
his sleeping life signs while daylight broke over the façade of the
opposite wing. The night turned to blue or gray sky, depending on
the weather, and the silhouette of the structure across the way
emerged like a black cut-out against the lightning backdrop. On
days when he fed, she detached from the embrasure of his arms to
prepare breakfast.

This
particular morning, Lorna awoke to see light from the study where
Ed worked. Throwing on a robe, she joined him. From behind, she ran
fingers through his luxuriant red locks. Exhaling contentedly, he
tilted back, showing a triangle of chin above the desktop. She
couldn’t see, but she knew he smiled. “The corporation bought the
excavation at Oom,” he said quietly.

“Have they
found the steles?”

“No, not
yet.”

“Should we
go?”

“We?”

“I have the
link with First Mother. Didn’t she choose me to decipher and
understand them?”

“But what
about the babies?”

“Pregnant
lycans are tough. A plane flight won’t hurt.”

Ed patted her
belly. A week before he felt the babies’ first movements, faint
whispers of motion on the flanks of her baby bump. “Grandmother Sam
always said never argue with a pregnant lycan. And she should
know.” He chuckled. “I’ll book the flight.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

F
rom Madrid,
they took the train to Pamplona. Not the sleek, powerful express
they’d hoped for, but a local that stopped at every town and
village on the Madrid-to-Bilbao route. It was, however, the only
train to accept attachment of the corporation car.

The slow pace
frustrated Ed. Bad enough a Spanish national air traffic
controller’s strike cancelled both local commercial and private
flights, but to be stuck onto the back end of a temperamental train
subject to all of the delays of a low-priority local must’ve
maddened a man not used to the experience of anything less than
travelling at maximum dispatch. For the first day, he stomped back
and forth in their coach, as if the physical act of his restless
movement could speed their progress.

“We’ll be
fine,” Lorna pointed out in soothing tones. “We have all the
comforts of home. Besides, the ride will be lovely. Try to enjoy
it.”

At first, he
answered with a grumble, but a day later, she slipped in behind him
while he took cell phone pictures of a village on the face of a
distant mountain. The tiny, ivory-colored buildings seemed carved
from the dark granite.

“Oh,” he
exclaimed guiltily, like a child caught in a minor infraction.
Sheepishly, he explained, “I thought those back home would like
some pictures.” He took a moment to appreciate her outfit—a brief
pair of tight, denim shorts, accompanied by a halter top.

Lorna shook
her head in an amicable reproof. “If you learn nothing else from
me, remember to let yourself enjoy life’s small pleasures.”

Arching a
mischievous eyebrow, he returned the smile. Glancing in the
direction of their bedroom at the rear of the car, he filled her
wish. “We can enjoy a lot better from in there.” Taking her arm, he
walked with her to the room, closing the door.

The
accommodations were small—the width of a standard railroad
passenger car. An abbreviated double bed occupied the curved back
wall. The upper half was an observation window wrapped in a
semicircle. The train rattled along a straight run of track. Two
lines of tattered silver rail raced from the back of the car to
converge at the horizon. The pace of the click-clack of wheels on
rails told them the train had attained cruising speed, which lasted
thirty minutes or less between stops.

“Draw the
curtains,” Lorna said, brushing against the front of him. Shedding
the shorts and halter, she slipped under the covers, but not before
he alerted on her scent. “The sway of the car makes me horny,” she
admitted.

He answered by
pressing his mouth on hers.

They dozed
until there was a soft knock on the door. “It’s Thomas, Ed,” the
voice on the other side said. “There’s been news about Bobby.”

Ed hopped out
of bed, dressing in a flash. By the time Lorna caught up, the two
men sat at a window table in the next compartment. “He was
positively identified at an X-10 gathering outside of Mobile,” the
prim, elder hybrid said. “By the time the State Police arrived,
he’d left, probably headed for one of their compounds in the
northern part of the state.”

“Are the
authorities pursuing?”

“I don’t think
so. He could be at any of a dozen locations in Alabama alone.”

Ed dropped his
head in despair. “If I could speak to him.”

Thomas placed
a smaller, wrinkled, liver-spotted hand on top of Ed’s. “Dear
brother, I understand he holds a special place in your heart, but
he’s done a great evil to you, personally, not to mention the rest
of us. Additionally, he murdered a human female. He must pay for
this.”

Ed’s sullen
stare dropped to the table top. “I understand. I want to talk to
him. I think I can convince him to give himself up. He needs
therapy as much as punishment.”

Thomas drew
back in anger. “If anyone else were the subject—your other sons,
Karla, me, anyone else—you would not be saying this.”

Lorna and
Thomas jumped back when Ed slammed his fist on the table. “Enough!
Bobby is our family.”

The little
fellow didn’t back down. His pale-blue eyes locked on his much
larger brother. “He most certainly is not. He gave his birthright
away when he murdered almost a hundred-and-fifty of us. He’s an
anathema. You’ve been a wonderful Chairman, perhaps the best ever,
but any attempt to mitigate or interfere with the consequences of
his actions will reflect on your competency to lead the
corporation.”

Ed reared back
to say something both emotional and devastating, but checked
himself. “Lorna,” he asked, “What do you think?”

The train
crossed a trestle spanning a wide lake. The afternoon sun riffled
across the water’s surface, making the dark, green forest lining
the far shore stand out. She chose words the way she’d choose steps
when walking through a minefield, “I think to speak with him for
the purpose of encouraging surrender, assuming you get the
opportunity, is okay, but Thomas is right. If you interfere or take
extraordinary steps beyond what you’d do for any of The Others,
relative or not, it will most certainly end badly for all of
us.”

“Brother,”
Thomas said. “The challenges are not over for our kind. We need
your leadership and wisdom more than ever. If nothing else, think
of the greater good.”

Ed had calmed
down. “As always and forever.” The Chairman sighed with
resignation, walking back to the bedroom.

Lorna started
to follow, but Thomas restrained her. “No. He must be alone. He’ll
think the problem through and do what’s best.”