The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution) (35 page)

“Well, you
know, she could also have just been discreet.”

“Yes, of
course…”

The subject of
Cynthia’s sexual preference brought Valeria to mind. Ed had taken
her death, along with the circumstances—those of betraying her
community—hard. Lorna surmised the disillusionment must have been
daunting for him, and decided the issue should remain one best not
brought up until he was ready. Almost six years after the event,
not a word had passed between them about the matter.

His answer
from the darkness changed that.

“To me, the
memory of Valeria will remain that of a wonderful, loving child.
I’m sure her dalliance with Cynthia was experimentation. At her
age, I also had interesting urges.”

Lorna reached
across the seat, lightly holding his extended fingers. “You don’t
have to talk about all that.”

“No, enough
time has passed.” Shifting position, he faced Lorna, remaining in
the dark. “I judged her harshly for what she did to her own kind.
Did you also know she helped Bobby escape from the compound?”

“Yes, I did,”
Lorna replied.

I wasn’t sure
if you did.

“She did,” he
continued. “And put her kind at risk. As I said, at first I
condemned her, but through you, I’ve seen firsthand the effect love
has. The experience allowed me to understand why she betrayed
us.”

“What did you
learn?”

Ed clasped her
hand tightly. “To be of value, love is a gift that must be given
freely, without reservation. If you’re fortunate, the beloved
cherishes the offering, returning in kind, but often the greatest
gift one being can offer another is used selfishly. Valeria loved
Bobby. I see that now. What she did for him, she did out of love.
The poor child stood no chance against his manipulations.”

“No chance at
all,” Lorna agreed.

“We are
blessed. Our love has done so much good, not only for us, but for
all of our kind.”

Lorna placed
her other hand over theirs, smiling at the angular profile of the
sometimes childlike, often brilliant, firm of conviction, always
loving man she’d married and created a family with. Her heart
ached, about to burst with joy.

The car
slowed. “What’s happening?” Ed asked the driver.

“Nothing,
sir,” the driver answered. “A routine roadblock.”

Lorna peeked
outside. They were on the outskirts of town. Utility caps had
turned the streetlights off for the evening. Dark rows of
dilapidated houses lined the street on both sides. Their stucco
walls long ago faded to a dull gray overlaid by a film of mold
blending them into the night. The frantic wink of red and blue
police car lights provided illumination for the scene.

A uniformed
officer approached the White convoy. He spoke briefly to the driver
of the lead vehicle, directing them to turn down a side street on
the right.

“There’s a
riot at the Waterford Health Care station,” the driver of their car
reported. “Medications ran out. They learned Semoran received a
full compliment. We’re asked to take a diversion.”

Ed shrunk back
into the seat. “Follow the police instructions,” he ordered.

An explosion
about a quarter mile away lit up the sky. The rumbling sound
followed a few seconds later, shaking the car. The driver spun the
steering wheel, putting the glare behind them. Ed glanced out the
back windshield at the fading orange light.

As they
approached the first security gate at Rocket City, Ed’s private
phone rang. “Edward White,” he said in the level, noncommittal
voice of a CEO. With the phone on speaker, Cynthia’s excited,
youthful voice filled the compartment.

“Oh, God,
Uncle Ed,” she said on the edge of hysteria. “I have terrible
news.”

“Calm
yourself, child,” Ed replied. “Take a breath and tell me.”

After some
static, someone else took control of the phone. Thomas was on the
line. “I have some grave news,” he said, trying to sound calm, but
not succeeding very well.

“Okay, Cynthia
told me this much,” Ed snapped. “Get to it.”

“Brother,
Grandmother Samantha had a stroke.”

For what
seemed like forever, Ed did not respond. Outside, clumps of
palmettos and hyacinth-choked ponds flew by in alternations of
spindly, fan shapes and flat darkness. In the distance ahead, a
cluster of orange lights marked the inner checkpoint. Because of
the perilous times, Lorna and Ed had broken tradition, building
their home inside the second perimeter.

“How bad is
she?” he finally asked.

“I’m told
she’s fighting for her life,” Thomas said.

Lorna gasped.
Fate had cut the female icon of The Others down with the casual
indifference of taking a stalk of wheat at harvest. Life could be
fragile.

“What
happened?” Ed struggled to keep emotions together.

“She was
gardening in her parcel at the hydroponic station with some of the
great-great-grandchildren,” Thomas answered, an obvious tremor in
his voice. “Witnesses say her eyes rolled up in her head, and she
fell over.”

“Are the
little ones all right?” Ed asked.

“Yes, thank
goodness. There were others close by. Only because of them is she
alive. Little Eliot called for medical help.”

“How is
Great-pop doing?”

“He’s by her
side, from what Ethan tells me. He keeps repeating something about
God trying to reclaim perfection for Heaven.”

Ed leaned
forward, resting his forehead on a clenched fist. Lorna thought he
might cry. Then, remembering Thomas still remained on the line, he
said, “Thank you, my brother,” and hung up. Alone again, he
continued. “I don’t understand. Great-mom was young, barely two
hundred.”

“Was? She’s
not dead yet. She’s a tough little bird. Don’t count her out.”

The car slowed
for the checkpoint. Ed attached his stare to the security guard who
approached the lead vehicle. “Now things will become complicated
for us,” he said at length.

“In what
way?”

“Nobody beat
Great-mom at getting things done. After she and Great-pop arrived,
the colonies did better than they had in the previous thirty years.
Even better after she became mayor.”

“But Ethan and
Toby are there. They can run things.”

“There’s a
problem. Like here on Earth, working together proved impossible.
Great-mom understood this. Letting each work alone in fields he
knew best, she utilized Toby and Ethan the same way.

“What about
Claire’s son? Having colonized the place to begin with, must be of
some help?”

“Charles is
the consummate explorer. Since his children emerged, all he thinks
about is leading a mission to the moons of Jupiter and Saturn. Some
show promise of being habitable, you know.”

“If Samantha’s
unable to lead, you believe things will fall apart?”

Ed grimaced.
“I hope not, but I know my sons.”

Lorna
regretted never having met Grandmother Sam in person. With
fondness, she recalled the circumstances under which Great-mom
learned they’d named the twins after The First Parents.

“You
understand there’ll be consequences for violating our wishes in
this matter,” she’d said to Lorna, face deadpan over the Space
Stream.

Lorna took her
seriously. “We meant no disrespect, but your names should live
on.”

Samantha
beamed at Lorna from the benign, loving face generations of The
Others carried in one version or another. “You’re right, dear. We
are flattered, actually. Now, let me see them.”

Lorna held up
the male first. “I see a lot of you in him,” Samantha pronounced.
“As well as some of Jim, too, but most of all, he resembles my son
Louie.” Lorna had to think for a second to remember Sam and Jim had
had a second litter. They’d died in the Plague of 2026.

Lorna lifted
baby Sam for inspection. Samantha gave out an involuntary gasp.
“She’s Cassie’s twin. Oh, thank you for showing me my dear, sweet
Cassie lives on.”

As the car
hurtled through the night, silent tears of regret rolled down
Lorna’s face, regret about the opportunities she’d ignored over the
years. There were holidays, birthdays and special events, but there
could have been more. Now all chances might be gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

S
am didn’t die,
but recovery took time–time the relocation project lacked. While
she fought her way back into the world, reports of rivalries
generating power struggles came to Ed and Lorna. Toby and Ethan
gathered most of the colonists into rival factions. Charles,
following his own agenda, remained aloof. His segment of followers
contributed to, rather than ameliorated, the problem.

Lorna paused
at the doorway to Ed’s office. She exchanged smiles, in passing,
with the attendant who dropped off coffee in a silver-plated set.
Basking in Ed’s admiring smile, she warmed inside at his momentary
appreciation of the trim arrangement she presented. Then he
returned to the monitor screen he was reading and the pleasant
expression changed to one of intent.

“They’re
fighting again,” he said. “This time over when to put the
electrolysis plants down for maintenance, and in what order.”

“They can’t
agree on small details like that? Sounds like the Brazilian
legislature to me,” Lorna said in disbelief.

Ed smirked at
the quip about Brazil. “No, they can’t seem to keep their egos out
of policy making.” Pouring each a coffee into two tiny, china cups,
he followed up with two sugar cubes accompanied by a splash of
milk.

Lorna winked,
taking the cup he passed across the broad desktop. “I’ll say again,
dear husband. They need you to get the operation back on track.
Mother Sam is still recovering. She can’t help. Without you, the
whole project comes apart.”

“Not if I have
to desert this family.” In speaking he displayed the beautiful set
of mouth and jaw she loved so.

“At least
visit Mars. Maybe you can do something,” she suggested.

* * * *

In the summer
of 2106, he made the trip, staying an extra three months.
Mismanagement of the electrolysis units had caused a failure of the
corn crop. Rationing, augmented by supplies sent through the Space
Gate, averted a famine. Grandmother Sam would not have let such a
thing happen.

Lorna
appreciated the frailty of the Martian settlements. The accelerated
buildup of population reduced the margin for error. The colonies
were three islands of life in a hostile toxic ocean. From the
beginning, she understood Ed was conflicted. The Chairman side
sought the best solution for the flock, while Shadow Ed—having
assumed more prominence in recent times—would choose to stay with
her and the children. The sadness of it was that she, too, could
see both sides of the dilemma.

A few years
earlier, they’d almost decided to leave the children behind for
2107. Other couples in their position had made the choice.
Logically, if 2107 proved the year of destruction, the children
were doomed either way, but in the end, neither of them could
leave.

The debate
continued through the beginning of 2107.

* * * *

The moon
shuttle rose slowly on an orange feather of flame, the last mission
until after 2107, assuming anything remained. An ever-widening
plume of white smoke trailed behind. The remainder of the Moonbase
crew would embark the passengers on this shuttle for the trip to
Mars, join them, and close the door behind.

Will the last
one out please turn off the lights?

A
dispirited Ed was a passenger on the shuttle. Inch by inch, they’d
arrived at the decision. After all the gains Shadow Ed had made in
emerging into the light to blend with his alter ego, in the end,
Chairman Ed carried the day. Lorna took bleak comfort in the fact
he did so reluctantly. In fact, she had herself to blame that the
decision had gone the way it did. Deep inside, the logical,
chairman
side of her understood there
was no choice. The guilt of betraying Shadow Ed after all the
efforts expended in cultivating him would linger for a long
time.

“
Either you
go straighten the place out once and for good, or there’ll be no
open arms in this room,” she told him at one point.

“
You’re not
making sense.”

“
I’m making
perfect sense. If the sun-thing hits, we’re all dead here. If not,
you come back to a loving family. What’s there to think
about?”

Like a large
dog, he’d shambled off to think the issue through. Later, he
returned in a tense silence. To Chairman Ed, there was no debate.
Convincing took not as many repetitions as she’d anticipated. With
her backing, the chairman side won, leading his alter-ego joylessly
into the shuttle. Assuming the earth survived, Lorna hoped the
other Ed wouldn’t come to hate her.

It was for the
best, she kept reminding herself.

The nearly
deserted observation lounge had never seemed so large. A few
distant relatives, accompanied by the usual curiosity seekers, saw
the shuttle off—those who didn’t believe the end of the world
lurked around the corner. A ray of morning sunlight slanted in,
yellow on the dusty tabletops. News reports about the increased
solar activity murmured from most of the monitors. One of them
broadcast an old animated movie, capturing the children’s
attention.

Lorna stared
at the bright actinic sky, at the diminishing orange light carrying
Ed away, maybe for good.

“Mommy,” asked
Sammi, turning away from the movie. “When will Daddy be back?”

Lorna beamed
with love at the oval face framed by auburn hair that gazed back at
her with Ed’s eyes. “Soon, baby,” she said, fighting back
tears.

A waiter
cleared away the lunch dishes, before presenting the bill. Lorna
sighed despondently. Jimmie’s eyes were riveted to the monitor. His
shiny, dark-brown hair matched hers, along with the round head.
Lorna placed a corporation platinum card on the plastic-bound
folder alongside the bill. The waiter snapped it up with a
well-practiced swipe on his way by the table.