~~~~~~
Clay poured himself a hot tea, and switched on the vid. The anchor was trying to explain the imminence of war with Mars. He tightened the sash of his robe, and switched the vid off. He was too tired to think about the Baron bickering with Nogora.
He leaned on his porch rail and breathed in the cool mountain air. Seeking an inner peace that eluded him, he contemplated his condition.
From high on the mountain, Babel Tower touched the sky on Nodlon’s northern spur. Nodlon gleamed below him in the golden rays of the fading twilight. The blue lights twinkled in the dark on valley floor, while the silver spires of the shield towers caught the day’s last rays. Red beacons burned atop the spires warning the civilian flyers away.
A child of war, Nodlon had skirmished with her terrestrial neighbors more than once, but Nodlon had prevailed easily against her neighbors and even those distant conflicts were nearly forgotten. Nodlon had not seen a major war in a hundred years. Shivering in the cool night air, he studied the shield towers searching for any comfort. He had never thought he would look upon those silent sentinels for the city’s hope.
He tried to imagine a war with Mars. What if Babel Tower was destroyed? What would he do? His stuff, his condo, was it really all about him? No. It’s not all about me; it’s about all of us. If I could I’d give my stuff away to save everyone else, but it doesn’t work that way. Nogora doesn’t want my stuff. He wants to destroy Nodlon.
Venus blazed high in the sky, the first star of the evening. He watched the stars appear one by one until too many to count filled the sky. High above the mountain, he watched the commuter shuttle to Elysium leave Nodlon’s spaceport. He had been there before, passing through on the way to Mars. It was a marvel of the ancient world.
Sunlight painted a panoply of pinks against the midnight blue.
Sighing, he finished his tea and turned away. He left the patio door cracked, and set his mug on the table.
Blueberry Lake
“Get up sleepy head.” A blinding light fell on Clay.
He sat up and spun out of bed. “Shotgun! What time is it?”
“Late. But the coffee’s fresh, and I’m making ham and cheese omelets for breakfast with English muffins. Get a move on, or I’ll take matters into my own hands.” Shotgun tied back his curtains, letting the morning sun flood the room.
Jack muttered an inaudible thanks to the dwarf’s back. Bleary eyed, he staggered to his lavatory, and splashed cool water on his face. In the mirror, his elven face stared back at him. Clever blue eyes and thin features, fair complexion, he could have been sixteen more than thirty. Stretching, he shook off the night and tried circulating his blood.
Clean shaven and dressed, he sneaked a peek of himself. “Youth is fleeting, and vanity shames, but character endures.”
He scolded himself. He recalled Phaedra’s admonitions. Her soft voice came back to him, Never forget, Jack, you will be remembered for your misdeeds and not your talents or contributions. The more you give, the more history will hate you, and seek to bury your memory. His mother had known all too well she lived on borrowed time. They had sought to repair her failing heart, but a perverse technicality made genetic repairs useless.
A wave of sorrow swept over him. He shoved the emotion back into the recesses of his mind. He missed his mother but he had to go on living.
He joined Shotgun in the kitchen. Consoling himself, he filled his favorite latte cup with black coffee. On the outside of the cup, a rotund old man in a white beard and red pajama’s laughed. Sharing breakfast with Shotgun, he readied himself for the coming day.
“Delicious, you’ve excelled this morning. What’s in these eggs?”
“Gorgonzola, and a hint of caraway for mystery.” He toyed with a slice of ham and said, “That’s my secret though, just between us girls.”
“Mum’s the word, I won’t even tell Jazz.” Clay crossed his heart. “You’ll make Goldie a good wife.”
Shotgun shuffled his utensils, embarrassed but amused. He buttered his toast casually without answering. Then he laid down the bread, and sipped his coffee. He started to say something and then stopped, returning to the coffee.
“Boss,” Shotgun reddened, his eyes misted. The usually taciturn dwarf pursed his lips, holding back.
“Shotgun, I’m sorry about the joke.”
“I don’t mind the joke.”
“What’s wrong then?”
“Even if Biot Staffing releases Goldie, we’ve no place I can afford on this side of the city, and we can’t live here.”
“Why not? After Jazz and I get married, you and Goldie can take her apartment. It’ll be nice to have kids running around.”
“You’d do that?”
“Dead straight, Shotgun. Faith and Hope need their father, too. I should know. I miss my mother.”
“What about Jazz, and your family?”
“Dude, you’re family.” Quickly, he stuffed his mouth full of eggs, hoping Shotgun would accept his offer without any more questions.
Heavy metal music jarred his reverie, and he retrieved his caster. The inspector appeared on the caster’s little vid screen in his fedora and trench coat.
“Morning, Gumshoe.”
“Morning, Jack, but we’ve found another victim. Better sit down.”
“Shoot, I’m ready.”
“An elderly couple walking their dog found a dwarf maiden floating in Blueberry Lake a half hour ago. We’re scrambling uniforms and a crime scene team now. Can you and Shotgun meet me there?”
“Be there in five.”