“Sorry,” said Tad, for the second time.
“After a few fights, splits, and mergers, the New York looters finally settled down into three rival divisions,” Donnell continued. “When the refugees arrived from London, the London Resistance and the New York Resistance merged together fairly well after a few initial ego clashes, while the London looters remained as a separate division.”
He paused. “So now I’ve got just over seven hundred people on my hands, but they’re divided between five almost equally sized, fiercely independent divisions. The only reason the Resistance is notionally in charge of the alliance is that all the other four divisions hate each other, and any bid for power from one of them is instantly opposed by the other three. It’s hard enough keeping the peace at the best of times, but we’ve been rationing food for weeks so everyone’s very hungry and short tempered.”
“When we crossed the Unity Bridge, I saw there were fish in the river,” said Tad. “Is the food shortage because you’ve no way to catch them, or because pollution has made them too toxic to eat?”
“There was a big clean up of the local rivers when the United Earth Americas Parliament moved to New York,” said Donnell, “and pollution levels have dropped even further since the city was abandoned. Even the unpredictable weather patterns are easing. It’s a struggle to grow vegetables here – centuries of building, demolition and rebuilding have left the soil full of rubble – but the local fish and wildfowl are plentiful and perfectly safe to eat.”
Tad nodded. “So the problem is that you don’t store food for the winter.”
Donnell’s patience cracked. “Of course we store food for the winter! Do you think we’re complete fools?”
“Sorry,” said Tad, for the third time.
Donnell took a moment to calm down before speaking again. “A lot of rooms in this building were filled floor to ceiling with stasis boxes preserving old documents. We threw out the papers, and used the stasis boxes to store food reserves. Combined with our regular hunting and fishing, those are normally enough to last us through the winter, but two months ago we were hit by some sort of fever.”
He sighed. “Since then, everyone has either been sick themselves or caring for those who were ill. Over thirty people died from the winter fever, including Luther’s father, my best friend and deputy, Kasim. People have only just recovered enough for me to risk sending them out hunting again, and our food reserves are almost gone.”
He gave Tad a pointed look. “The last thing I needed was you three marching in and demanding food. Never do that again. We’ll feed you when we can manage it, but everyone here has been hungry for weeks.”
He paused. “I also need to point out that I’ve been using some words you’d be familiar with to explain past events, but the word looter is considered an insult round here. You must never use that word, or call people criminals, you say scavengers. You never refer to gangs either, you say divisions. Remember that please. I’ve had to punch one person already today because of you, and I’m getting too old for fist fights.”
“We’ll try not to cause any more trouble, but why are you punching people when you’re Armed?” Tad pointed at the gun enveloping Donnell’s right wrist, its glowing tendrils snaking across the back of his hand and up his arm. “That’s one of the specialist weapons carried by elite Military Security agents. You were never in the Military, let alone in Military Security, so how did you manage to get one of those? They were designed to bond to their owner for life, self-destructing when he or she died so the weapon could never be stolen.”
“Kasim gave it to me. He was a Military Security Armed Agent himself, and he stole an unbonded weapon for me before he defected to join the Earth Resistance.” Donnell gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Yes, I’m Armed, but that doesn’t mean I can go round killing anyone who disagrees with me.”
Tad blinked. “I wasn’t suggesting you should kill people. I just didn’t understand why you’d need to punch them.”
“I got into the habit in the early days,” said Donnell. “The other divisions have always settled their status disputes with fights. Originally, those fights involved weapons like knives, but the rate of injuries and deaths was terrifying, so I talked the alliance into banning fights with weapons. Once it was just fist fights, throwing the odd punch myself earned me respect and was a fast way to make a point. I admit being Armed gives me a huge advantage, because very few people risk hitting me back, but I still don’t want to get dragged into any more fights on your behalf.”
Donnell stood up, and we all hurried to stand up as well. “That’s enough explanations for now,” he said. “When I’ve time, I’d like to hear a news update on how the rest of humanity is getting on, but right now I need to concentrate on keeping this small part of it peaceful. I’ll give you accommodation up here to keep you safe. Please don’t abuse my trust by roaming round and trespassing in random rooms. My daughter has a right to privacy in her own bedroom.”
Tad looked embarrassed. “We wouldn’t dream of …”
Donnell kept talking over the top of him. “And don’t leave this floor without an escort. The other divisions each have their own wing of this building, and they’ll kill you if you accidentally wander into their territory.”
He turned to Luther. “Organize some bedding and less distinctive clothes for the off-worlders, and then find them some rooms. There should be a few with working plumbing over in corridor B6.”
Luther nodded, and led the three off-worlders out of the room. I was about to leave too, when Donnell spoke again.
“It’s time we had our talk, Blaze. I could use a drink, so let’s go to my apartment.”
I was sick with tension as I followed him down the corridor. Donnell surely wouldn’t tell me to leave the Resistance straight after introducing me as his daughter, but what else could he want to discuss? Were we finally going to talk about our relationship, my mother, and perhaps even my brother?
Chapter Five
Donnell pressed his hand to the key plate beside his apartment door, and led the way into a room where luxurious armchairs surrounded a stained card table littered with crumpled paper cups. It was six years since I’d been in this room. It had been a mess back then as well.
Donnell swept the cups into a bin, tossed an old coat off an armchair onto the floor, and waved at me to sit down. I remembered curling up in that armchair on my first day in New York. My mother was dead. My whole world had gone up in flames. My hands were burned from touching a red-hot door. I was a huddled ball of misery, crying in pain and despair. Donnell had knelt on the floor next to me, murmuring comforting words, and gently dabbing some ointment on my hands that magically took away all the pain.
I’d been too lost in anguish and shock to appreciate it fully at the time, but for two precious weeks Donnell had been a real father to me. All through my childhood in London, people had told me stories about him – everyone except my mother who never even mentioned his name. I’d built up a fantasy image of my legendary father over the years, and the reality had been less heroic but far more human and caring.
Those two weeks had ended in disaster, but I’d been hanging on to the memories for years now, replaying each moment in my head until I wasn’t sure how much was true and how much my own embellishment.
Now I sat down like a dignified adult, and watched nervously as Donnell went across to the single huge window, picked up a fresh paper cup from the stack on the windowsill, and poured amber liquid into it from a half-empty bottle. He sipped it and gave a groan.
“I know I shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, but …” He glanced at me. “Do you drink our apology for whiskey yet, Blaze?”
“No, sir.” I helped run the stills that made the stuff, but never drank more than the odd test sip myself. I wished I was more like my father in a lot of ways, but I’d no desire to copy his drinking.
“Very wise. It’s filthy stuff that stinks of sour wintereat.” Donnell came and sat in a chair facing
me. “Do you think it’s possible for you to stop calling me sir?”
I gave him an anxious look. A few of Donnell’s oldest friends called him Sean. Everyone else either called him Donnell or sir. In my case, there was the awkward question of whether he’d expect me to call him Donnell or Father. I couldn’t afford to get that wrong, so I’d have to make sure I didn’t call him anything at all.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I mean, yes.”
“You had an encounter with Cage this morning.”
I gave Donnell a startled look. “I didn’t know you’d seen that.”
“I didn’t see it myself. I’ve had two officers watching the food queue for trouble ever since we started rationing. Vijay and Weston were on duty this morning, and told me that Cage had spoken to you by the cooking fire. What did he say to you?”
I hesitated before speaking. “Cage said you had a vacancy for an officer. He seemed to think that if he married me …”
“He could fill that vacancy.” Donnell finished the sentence for me. “Well, naturally Cage would make his move today. I told him I didn’t want you to marry anyone until you were at least eighteen, and he’s taken me at my exact word.”
Donnell’s comment terrified me. “You knew Cage was planning this? You want me to marry him?”
Donnell looked startled. “Chaos, no. I realize I haven’t been much of a father to you, but you surely don’t think I’d marry you off to someone like Cage?”
I felt relief that was oddly mixed with guilt at ever doubting Donnell’s reaction.
“It all started that day by the cooking fire when you were eleven,” he continued. “It was only two days after your brother left. I was in my room, an emotional mess and more than a little drunk, when Weston came to tell me there was trouble in Reception. I headed down there, and I could hear your screams before I even entered the room.”
I’d done a lot of screaming that day. I’d tried to keep my head, stay calm while Cage was dangling me over the fire, but then one of Cage’s friends tossed a log into the flames. A batch of sparks flew up into my face, and I went into a blind panic, battling to get free by gouging at Cage’s arms with my nails.
Cage hadn’t liked his victim fighting back, and reacted by lowering me even closer to the fire, so the trailing lengths of my hair caught fire. Utterly desperate at that point, I bit his arm savagely, and he flung it sideways to free himself. I was sent flying, landed on the ground dangerously close to the fire, and was frantically crawling away from the scorching heat when Donnell arrived on the scene. I could still remember the sound of his voice shouting at Cage, and the thuds of the punches that followed.
“I hit Cage hard that day,” said Donnell, “but you did him far more damage than me. The whole of the alliance was making jokes about a child biting him for months afterwards.”
People were still making jokes about me biting Cage even now. The bite had got infected, and left a scar when it finally healed, so Cage still had the teeth marks of an eleven-year-old girl on his left forearm.
Donnell sighed. “The laughter and public humiliation destroyed Cage’s chances of taking the leadership of Manhattan from Wall.”
I was shocked. “I thought Wall had already defeated Cage before I bit him.”
“Both Wall and Cage encouraged people to believe that version of events. Wall because he didn’t want people knowing how close he came to losing his leadership position. Cage because he’d rather people thought he was defeated by a powerful man than a little girl.”
Donnell shook his head. “I knew the truth though. Wall admitted it to me himself. The leadership of Manhattan was hanging in the balance when Cage held you over that cooking fire and you bit him. Wall warned me that Cage would blame you for his failure, and I knew he was right. I’d seen two of Cage’s enemies die suspiciously convenient accidental deaths, I was afraid you’d be next, and decided the only way to keep you safe would be to shoot Cage.”
I blinked.
“Machico talked me out of that. He said people were already blaming me for my son’s actions, so shooting someone, even Cage, could make the whole alliance fall apart. I settled for having either Kasim or myself guarding you for every second of the next few days, but then Cage came to me and apologized for attacking you.”
I blinked again. “Cage apologized? But he never apologizes for anything.”
“It was more of an excuse than a real apology. He made some ridiculous claim that he’d only picked you up because he was worried you were dangerously close to the cooking fire. He intended to move you to safety, but his good deed went wrong when you panicked and bit him.”
I choked in disbelief. “Cage claimed he was moving me to safety? I wasn’t anywhere near the fire until he carried me there and dangled me over the flames.”
“I knew you’d been traumatized by the London firestorm, so you wouldn’t have willingly gone near the cooking fire. My first impression was that Cage was acting apologetic to put me off guard while he looked for a chance to take his revenge on you, but then he told me his real reason. He’d lost his bid to take the leadership of Manhattan, but thought of a new idea for gaining power. Marry you and become an alliance officer. The man has such a vast ego that he believed I’d eagerly welcome him as a future son-in-law.”
I was stunned. “You mean Cage suggested marrying me when I was only eleven years old?”
“In fairness, Cage didn’t expect or want to marry a child. His idea was that I should announce the engagement, and he’d move to the Resistance and become an officer immediately, but wouldn’t marry you until you were sixteen years old.”
Donnell grimaced. “My instinct was to tell him to go pollute himself, but I knew that would be like painting a target on your back. Instead, I gave him a very carefully worded answer, avoiding actually saying that I agreed to the marriage, but letting him assume it. I told him there couldn’t be any formal arrangement until you were at least eighteen though. I made the point that I’d led the arguments in favour of the alliance rule that no one could marry until they were eighteen years old, so announcing my daughter’s engagement when she was only a child would make me look ridiculous.”
He gave a humourless laugh. “Cage agreed his plan should wait until you were eighteen. From then on, all I had to do was drop an occasional hint about the future to keep you perfectly safe from him. Cage would never harm you while he saw you as his path to power.”
For six years, I’d been convinced Cage hated me because of the scar on his arm, and wondered why he hadn’t lifted a finger against me. Now I finally understood. Cage’s ambition was stronger than his desire for revenge.
Donnell took a sip from his cup. “Cage was constantly stirring up trouble. I thought he’d either get himself killed in a fight, or be caught committing one of his murders disguised as ‘accidental deaths’, long before you were eighteen. I underestimated his cunning. Cage stayed regrettably alive and well. At one point, I thought he was going to be diverted into making another try for the Manhattan leadership, but he didn’t.”
“My impression is that Wall’s grown more popular with his division members over the years.”
“Yes. Wall’s led Manhattan since the start of the alliance. He was firm to the point of brutality in the early days, but he’s mellowed over the years. He still has his harsh moments dealing with troublemakers, but he’s generous enough the rest of the time, and almost over-indulgent with the children. Not just the ones he calls his nephews and nieces, but the other Manhattan children too.”
I kept carefully quiet. Wall had had several girlfriends over the last decade or two, and accumulated about a dozen children. He had an odd habit of referring to them as nephews and nieces rather than sons and daughters, possibly because he’d never married any of their mothers, but they were all openly acknowledged and loved. I’d often envied them.
Donnell didn’t seem to notice my silence. “I’m guessing you told Cage you wouldn’t marry him.”
I gave a nervous nod
. “I don’t understand how Cage expects to get two division leaders to vote in favour of him becoming an officer. I’m not even sure that Wall would vote for him after all the trouble he’s caused in Manhattan.”
“I think Wall might be tempted to vote in favour of Cage becoming an officer just to get him out of Manhattan division,” said Donnell. “More urgently, how did Cage react to you refusing his offer of marriage?”
“He said some unpleasant things. He ended by saying I’d better accept his offer before he changed his mind.”
“He’s not taken your answer as final then,” said Donnell. “That’s good. I suggest we build up his hopes for a while before dashing them.”
I frowned. “Surely that will make him even angrier in the end.”
“Definitely,” said Donnell, “but I want to delay a confrontation with Cage until the spring. The alliance is in an unhappy mood after the deaths from winter fever, the food rationing has made me unpopular, and losing my deputy has weakened my position.”
He pulled a face. “Did you hear what that Queens Island man said to Luther this morning? The bit about Kasim’s son not having to earn anything, and it being the same thing that happened six years ago? That wasn’t just an attack on Luther, but on me over what happened with Seamus.”
I tensed at the mention of my brother, but Donnell was already shaking his head and moving the conversation on.
“People are discontented, and the arrival of the off-worlders has made the situation even more explosive, so the last thing I need right now is yet more trouble.”
I felt my stomach lurch in panic. It sounded as if Donnell was struggling to hold the alliance together. If he lost control, what would happen to us all?
“It will be much easier for me to deal with Cage in the spring when people are well-fed and happy again,” continued Donnell. “We just need to keep him quiet until then. Cage is the type to think your opinion on your future husband doesn’t matter nearly as much as mine. I can have a word with him tomorrow, say that he took you by surprise, but I’ll talk you round over the next few months.”