Book 1 – “Retalliation” :: Chapter 2 – “The Union”
Zephyr :: Book 1 – “Retalliation” :: Chapter 2 – “The Union” :: David Quinn “DragonFyre” Ebert
“Flesh is a design flaw.”
– “Gorge” (Participating Character)
– from Epic’s “Unreal Tournament 2003/2004″
“Daddy,” cried Christian, “is he dead?” Before Zephyr had a chance to muster a response, the seemingly-demised cyborg emitted a characteristic grunting-grumble, and responded “Not quite…but one might say I’d rather be, albeit certainly not the case.” “Oh, Thank God, Uriel,” responded the now-glowing Christian, who rushed to his side. “So,” inquired Zephyr, “Uriel, what’s the damage?” “Nothing fatal, but nothing easily mended, either,” Uriel replied begrudgingly. “How far in did it go,” asked the shocked father, who had never once flinched during 8 years of active military service. “About 50 millimeters. It can be pulled out manually without danger, but, any way you twist it…excuse the pun…it will almost certainly mean I can never guard Christian again, without extremely extravagant biomechanical re-engineering.” Zephyr, not surprisingly, would have to think about that…he had already spent over a year’s wages on acquiring Uriel’s unmatched services, but, he knew the repairs might be just as costly.
“Zephyr, come in here,” exclaimed Regina, who Zephyr found to have gone directly across the hall and into the pair’s bedroom, and was sitting at Zephyr’s radio scanner, with earpiece in-ear. “Yes, honey,” inquired Zephyr, “what’s going on?” “Seems Benjamin and his family have problems of their own…what do you say we go check up on them?” Never one to pass up an opportunity to help a friend or “comrade” in need, Zephyr responded with an unsurprising “Of course!”
“Christian,” Zephyr asked, returing to her bedroom, “Mom and I are going to go assist Benjamin and his family…seems they’ve fallen on some bad luck as well. You can either stay with Uriel, or come with us, whichever pleases you most.” “Uriel, would you be okay by yourself here,” Christian asked. “Yes…I will be fine…You go with your mother and father…this will give me time to patch myself up the best way I know how.” “Okay, we’ll be back shortly, then,” replied Christian, who blew the wounded one a kiss, and who, as was his custom, promptly returned the favour.
The “Morrison Trio” formed a “stack” with Christian in the “guarded” position, and made their way down the hallway, and through the front door. Benjamin’s two-story “combine” house was directly across the culdesac from the Morrisons’, so, it was apparent to the three immediately that their much-loved neighbors were clearly much more lucky than they were…their sole problem being that a dismounted and crumpled TR-79 engine had made a devine “bee-line” for their front door, bringing down the home’s intricate Foyer, which Zephyr had hand-designed when he was originally building his “little community” of Morrison Ranch.
As the two made their way across the “neighborhood courtyard,” Regina, much to Christian’s surprise, pulled one of her Glock pistols from her belt-holster, and handed it to her daughter. True, her father had taken her shooting with this very weapon many times before, but, it was difficult for him to see her be put into such a role of responsibility, even though he knew she was likely more emotionally ready to accept the responsibility than even he was at the moment. “What am I looking for,” Christian asked her mother, quietly, as if some supreme force would take offense at the question. “Only shoot at what WE shoot at, and ONLY if WE shoot,” stated the mother, without any hint of emotion, but seemingly attempting to match her daughter’s attempt at “devine discretion.” As they closed in on Benjamin’s house, Christian allowed herself a glance at her parents’ weapons…they both had their fire-select switches set on “safety”…Christian allowed this to ease her mind, as she’d always been taught that you never “free” a weapon unless you intend to use it.
By this time, the trio had arrived at the (very) mangled front entrance of Benjamin’s house. Through a few breaks in the rubbled entrance, the house’s slightly-bewildered occupant could be seen. “Ah! Hello, Zephyr! It is a pleasure to see your family here…we very much appreciate your help,” exclaimed Benjamin. “Hey, Christie! How ya’ doing,” chuckled Benjamin’s daughter, Angela. “Fine…Don’t worry Angie…my mom & dad will get you out of there…just do what my dad says, and it’ll all be good.”
As her mother and father worked to free their “Housed-In” neighbors, Christian took a moment to look back at her house…and, sighed in relief, as she saw Uriel moving about the kitchen, through it’s hand-moulded, wide-aspect bay window, which her father crafted with the same love and care as he’d always shown her and her mother. She now felt at peace with his survivability, but could never disregard her guilt for the consequences Uriel would suffer from his undying devotion to her protection.
A loud metallic “clank” and “thump” presented itself behind Christian, who instinctively turned around to address it, only to find that Benjamin and his family were emerging from their home, each completely unscathed. As Angela emerged from the ruins, she and Christian approached one another, shared a hug, and took it upon themselves to discuss the things that might be expected of two people such as themselves.
“I don’t know…anything’s a possibility,” said Zephyr to Benjamin. “If I know my comrade Zephyr well enough, I can feel certain he thinks that there is more to this than meets the eye,” Benjamin replied. “You know, I beat myself up over stuff like this, but, I never really get to any reasonable conclusions, and find they just get lost in the fog of my life and mind,” Zephyr responded. “You know”, Benjamin suggested, “I have an informant friend who works at Volenyatov base…I could see if he knows anything about it.” “That would be very much appreciated, my friend,” answered Zephyr.
“Oh…Uriel,” exclaimed Angela, who had just spotted the Gargoyle, who had bandaged and re-dressed himself, hobbling towards the group of reuniting friends. “Uriel! You should be resting now…what do you think you’re doing,” yelled the guardian’s master. “Coming to be with friends,” Uriel yelled back happily. “It seems like nothing can shatter the stone-hard spirit of a Gargoyle,” said Christian in admiration of her ever-vigilant protector.
“Uriel,” implored Zephyr, “feel up to helping me and B.J. with a project?” “Certainly,” was the response which was always expected, but not necessarilly under these circumstances. The gargoyle made his way up the short yard-hill at Benjamin’s property, and drew gasps from his “family” as he took a fall, but, to the surprise of all, recovered as gracefully as would be expected of any Gargoyle making a landing from a much-invigorating glide. As Uriel found solid ground, Zephyr chuckled, “Whoa, Uriel…nice save!” “Thank you, sir,” said the gargoyle, with much gusto, “How may I be of assistance?” “Well,” mused Zephyr, “do you think you can help me carry some of my masonry tools over here from our house?” Uriel, never one to refuse a reasonable request, could do nothing but pause, as a battle of emotions clouded his ability to speak. With a chuckle, Zephyr offered, with a tone of compassion, “That’s what I thought.” He patted the cyborg on the back, and made his way to the house to get his tools.
* * * THAT EVENING * * *
“I assure you, it is of no incovenience. I am your comrade…what is yours is mine…I only wish to make your life as comfortable as possible, given your current circumstances,” Benjamin insisted. “Benjei,” chuckled Zephyr, “I see old habits die hard, eh?” “Communism, while vulnerable, is known for peace and order, if executed properly. Of course, not all are satisfied to be equal with one another,” Benjamin noted, “I try to take the best of all worlds, and apply them for the good will of all that I know.” “A good policy, I must say,” Zephyr admitted. “So, will you all accept my offer? If not, then, may I be of assistance elsewise,” implored Benjamin. “What do you think, Reggie,” asked Zephyr. “Are you sure we will not be an imposition, Benjei,” Regina asked. “If you are…you will be one which I will welcome with open arms,” chuckled their cordial host. “Then, we accept your offer, but, wish for you to let us know immediately if you need us to make other arrangements,” Regina said. “Agreed,” Zephyr concurred, trying not to show an aire of humility, although, he knew, Benjamin knew it was there, nonetheless. “There are to be no worries on your part,” assured Benjamin, “this home you have built for us, while legally my own, should always be considered as yours as well, my comrades.”
* * * LATE THAT NIGHT * * *
“So, is your family ready for the grand tour,” asked Benjamin’s wife Anita, whom Zephyr often would think he might’ve married, if it wasn’t for how perfect he and Regina seemed for one another. “Yes Ma’am,” Zephyr huffed out in response. Zephyr proceeded to come to his feet, and followed Anita towards the front of the house.
“First stop…the newly-renovated threshold, which has been so thoughtfully provided by our benefactors,” said Anita, who failed miserably at resisting the urge to laugh lavishly at her own joke. “Who’s your benefactor…me or Chelkov,” Zephyr asked, finding his own comeback quite amusing. “You each played your own unique role,” concluded Anita, who found Zephyr more amused at her response than she was.
* * * 15 MINUTES LATER * * *
“Girls and Boy, time to go to bed,” exclaimed Anita, from the hallway. “But I don’t want to,” Uriel comedically argued. “Alright guys,” Anita said as she walked into the room, “specifically Christian and Uriel…want me to show you your room now?” “Must we really go to bed now,” inquired Uriel, not quite as jokingly. “She’s kidding, Uriel,” explained his master. “I think Uriel’s probably guarded kids that do have bedtimes, so, that’s why he’s asking,” Anita surmised. “Indeed, Christian…in case you have forgotten, you are not my first charge,” said Uriel. “Anyway,” said Anita, “Benjei and I are going to bed in just a moment, and, I certainly didn’t want to leave you and Chrissy without a nice bed.” “Annie, just to let you know,” Christian noted, “Dad doesn’t let Uriel and I sleep together.” “I’ll telll you what,” Anita replied,” let me show you two your room, then, I’ll see what I can do about that.”
* * * 20 MINUTES LATER * * *
“Here you go, Uriel,” said Anita, handing Uriel a bag containing a “Suspension Bed”…the New Solviet Army’s answer to the U.S. Army’s “Hard Cots.” “May I ask how you acquired this,” asked Uriel. “A friend, at the 17th Street supply depot…he didn’t say why, how, or from whom he’d received it.” Uriel tried and failed to suppress an expression of sadistic charm at the provisioning of the “taboo” item…the NSVA gave harsh penalties to civillians who were found to posess non-decommissioned military surplus…and he was pretty sure this high-end item would not be decommissioned for any non-terminal reason. “Good night, sleep tight,” Anita chuckled lovingly as she closed the door, not commenting on Uriel’s obvious show of amusement.
“Uriel, just one question for you before I go to sleep,” posed Christian. “Yes, what is it,” asked Uriel in response. “When you said I was not your first charge…what did you mean? I mean, I know what that refers to, but, could you tell me more about your past clients,” implored Christian. “There was only one…a very nice young man, named Davinsky Egatov,” replied Uriel. “What happened to him,” asked the cyborg’s master. “Nothing of consequence…when he came of age, his parents no longer required my services, and, as such, I went out and sought further employment,” replied the cyborg, wondering of his master’s intentions. “I realize I’ve already asked two questions, and only got permission for one, but,” said Christian, who was cut off by Uriel’s response of “Not to worry…Go ahead,” which was followed by a chuckle of reassurance. “What do you want to do after we don’t need you anymore,” was the question. “Until today’s incident, I’d planned to simply find another client, but, things may have changed, obviously,” was the answer. “Is that what you’ve really been wanting to do,” was another question. “Yes, that is what I enjoy doing…it pays well, and the benefits are, obviously, quite sufficient for any worker in any field,” was the respective answer. “Well, then, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you get your career back on track,” replied the master. There was no response from the master’s subject…he could formulate no answer that he felt would suffice. The tension held the silence until both master and subject lost themselves in much-needed slumber.
* * * DAY 2, 5:45AM * * *
Christian’s wristwatch alarm went off, promptly waking her up…she’d forgotten to turn it off from yesterday. It was her custom to get up at 5:45, as was encouraged by her parents, so they could spend time together before Regina and Zephyr went to work, but, she had wanted to sleep in, to make up for the chaotic events of the past day. “Typical,” she quietly thought out loud. “Huh,” Uriel exclaimed groggily, “Oh, Christian…good morning, how did you sleep?” “Just fine, but not long enough,” she responded. “You know, you don’t have to get up now…I’m certain your parents will understand,” responded her roommate. “They would, but my body probably wouldn’t,” she suggested. “Ah, yes,” was the roommate’s metered response.
* * * 5:55AM * * *
“They definitely are capable of that, but, I would never put them in that position, even if my life depended on it,” Zephyr said. “You have stated yourself that your daughter is better at shooting than yourself,” noted Benjamin. “Oh, whoops, did I come in at a bad moment,” a shocked Christian asked. “Come here, and sit down, baby,” her mother implored. “What’s up, Mom,” said the daughter. “Zephyr, you talk a lot about how reliable and smart our child is…why don’t we ask her? She’s always wanting to do more and more on her own,” her mother suggested. “Uh, what are you guys talking about,” the daughter replied, having heard the “shooting” comment, but not yet ready to make a direct response to it. “We didn’t want to rub this in your face, but, we could tell you were rather shaken when you saw Uriel get hurt yesterday,” the mother began, “but, we know you’d want us to do whatever we could to help him, am I correct?” “Sure, but, I also know how much dad’s already done for me,” the daughter responded, with a tone she hoped would bring closure, and make an end to it. “Uriel told us about what you said last night,” was Reggie’s response to the attempt at conclusion. “What,” Christina exclaimed, “when did he tell you this?” “Earlier this morning,” her mother replied, “I woke him up, wanting to talk to him, see if he had any concerns.” “I hope you are not upset, Christian,” offered Uriel, who’d been standing unnoticed in front of the door to the rear hallway, “I personally thought the comment was unbecoming of somebody your age…in a good way, of course.” “Thank you,” Christian replied, “but, what are you guys trying to get yourselves into? What is this about shooting?” “Your father and I want to do a favor for a biomech engineer friend of Benjei’s, who’s had the local CDF officials constantly up his skirt…this engineer owes Benjei a favor, and, he wants that favor to be Uriel’s rehabilitation.” Christian’s mind quickly reeled over this proposition…it sounded to her as if they wanted HER to kill somebody; sure, she’d done it before in videogames, but, never had any desire or interest in doing so in real life. “I…Uh…I don’t know, I’ll have to think about this,” was her response, which came almost half a minute later. Angela and her father then exchanged a short dialog in Russian, which was ended by a thoughtful yet contemptful sigh from the father, and a very brief pause. “Christian,” Benjamin asked, inflecting his best American accent, and sounding more compassionate than Zephyr had ever heard him before, “if you do not wish to take the responsibility, Angela has volunteered.” “Benjei,” Zephyr insisted, “would you truly risk your own child for the sake of a barely-related comrade’s future?” “It is her decision, not mine,” pleaded Benjamin, “there is nothing I can do about it, other than offer my opinion, which, I already have.” Unable to resist, Zephyr implored “Angela, I don’t speak Russian…care to tell me your father’s opinion.” “Father, may I be so honest as to indulge your guest,” was her response (in her best educated Russian). “Da,” (or “Yes,”) was her father’s response; Zephyr knew very well that Benjei tended to guard himself behind a language barrier when he was contested for his communism-inspired morals and ideals…not that all of such ideals were poorly founded, he would often admit to himself. “To the best of my translation skills,” Angela said, “he would not want to see me come to any harm, but, he trusts my skills and training for battle, and that he can do nothing but to admire my dedication to my friend, and would not dream of denying me that choice.” “Da,” was Benjamin’s unemotional response, confirming that the point had been sufficiently carried over.
* * * DAY 2, 5:50PM – DINNERTIME * * *
“So, what is our best first course of action,” asked Zephyr, generously cutting the pork roast his host and hostess had so graciously prepared for himself and his family. “Dr. Dragonov’s home and laboratory are contained in a two-story 20th-century home on the southern outskirts of Volingrad township,” Benjamin explained, “the town itself is a sleeper town…it houses mostly CDF personnell, with a few non-affiliates, whom they’ve provided with housing under what is referred to as a push-pull contract. This means they get to live, and live well, if they do whatever they are told by the benefactors, or otherwise, they can choose to not live at all. The point of having the non-affiliates is to add to the authenticity of the townspeople to those who may come through or to it.” “That’s got to be a nightmare for all involved, I’d suspect,” noted Zephyr. “The reason you do not hear about these townships is because, oddly enough, the citizens are often under no impression of danger…who would refuse government-funded housing, after all,” Benjamin offered. “True, but what is the level of violence in these towns? That is what I am referring to,” inquired Zephyr. “Unless the CDF in these areas harbor a grudge with a non-affiliate, all that is asked of the non-affiliates is an extremely-reasonable monthly rental fee…plus they get immunity from CRPS taxes…as these townships are usually not recognized by the CRPS,” Benjamin explained, “and, as with anywhere else, the sight of an armed CDF guard on your street corner generally would tend to thwart any would-be bandits.” “Yes, true,” Zephyr admitted. “Father, may I ask, do you truly think I’m ready for battle,” Angela chimed in (in Russian). “She doubts herself, Zephyr. Child, you need no longer hide your questions from the many,” Benjamin said, with a hearty, food-assisted chuckle. “He, or she, whom doubts himself is capable of nothing but failure,” mused Zephyr, “however, from all of the time I’ve spent with you Angela, I know you are every bit as skilled and able as Christian, to whom I’ve offered every bit of knowledge I have ever learned about the intricacies of war and battle.” “Zephyr,” Angela chuckled, “I do believe this could be because we have spent so many times together camping and shooting.” “As I must say, Zephyr,” Benjamin admitted, “she has learned from the best I know.” “So,” Zephyr inquired, “when do we begin?” The host returned, “We shall make final meeting and departure the first opportunity after breakfast, if that so pleases all involved?” “Splendid, so be it, my friend,” was the guest’s reply.
