Harvest arrived once a year, but in the home of Captain Elias John Pendergast, the holiday played on repeat. Footage of his father’s execution hovered in the air, amplified to the size of a wall by a projector device. Looping images presented the exact moment John Pendergast died.
Elias memorized every detail of the clip leaked to Union gossip magazines years ago. The Sinum master Ba’l Akil sliced John’s throat countless times as Elias maneuvered through his patio furniture. He marked each of the captured twenty seconds in his mind, his distant attention on the skyline spread above him. Warm light touched his skin. Ipir’s perpetual sun sprayed amber across the horizon in every direction.
His home lay nestled in the snow-capped mountains of North-North at an altitude that turned his patio into a balcony. A supernatural chill stirred goosebumps on his arms as he scratched his bare torso. Ether surge, he noted. Perfect timing, with Harvest Eve arriving in two days.
He crumpled the paper note he held in his fist, crushing the message he meant to burn in his new firepit purchased from Altirian Elite. The letter was sent to him by the current leader of the colony, Union General Stephen Olet, and contained an insult that piled onto the many Elias already suffered. Fantastic thing, the firepit — cost five full figures to obtain the piece imbued with particles of humanity’s crashed generation ship. Its design reflected firelight in tranquil patterns. The thought of destroying Olet’s note in it added more charm.
Beside the footage of John, a hologram of a somber man watched Elias unravel the note and scan the general’s signature at the bottom. Year 999, Olet had written, and Elias imagined the general stooped at some important desk with dark lenses dropped low, drafting the missive with full concentration. Hell of a guy to send him an ultimatum about Silatem’s future right before Harvest.
“The eyelids bother me, Shawn. They made him look like he’s staring.” Elias rubbed his own out of habit, the same clear color of ice as John’s. “They crowned him with flowers like a ghoul. I refused to confirm the carcass was dad’s ’til I saw his eyes. I couldn’t recognize my father.”
The man in the hologram absorbed his sentiments with a nod. Dressed in the tailored uniform of a Union Ministry executive, his badge displayed his surname and rank: HEYWOOD, S6 ADMIRAL, MINISTRY OF DEFENSE. A four-centimeter pin of crossed swords signaled he was the guildmaster of the Hunter’s Guild, managing security contracts for Union-authorized companies. Beside the swords hung a black shield, the adornment holding a subtle meaning of a deeper role he shared with Elias. Both men were scheduled to sit at a sector review later, so they’d see each other and there was no need for Heywood’s call. However, Heywood reached out anyway, making sure Elias still functioned.
“Valid. Wound’s always fresh. But looping that footage will guarantee you never forget.” His steel-colored eyes hopped over the space around Elias as if searching for the clip.
“I don’t want to forget,” said Elias.
“Understood.” Heywood refocused on the listless Elias. “Won’t hold your suspension against you. Delaurin’s conduct was unbecoming of a senator, and he crossed a major line.”
Elias darkened. Delaurin’s insult landed during a somber moment on an embassy floor, and the shock of the senator’s interjection was a blow — but not like what Elias did to him in return.
“What Delaurin said annoyed you too.”
“Aye. Might’ve thrown one myself, rude little shit. I’m not too old.” Heywood flashed the faint smile that returned whenever he remembered his younger and stronger days, now more than half a century ago. “Shame you won’t continue John’s mission. Union needs impartial leadership.”
“Don’t start.” Elias halted him fast, and Heywood chuckled.
“Come, now. Let me dream. There’s no one else viable from your stock, and your brother’s a kid. A Concord, too, like Delaurin. Who knows where his priorities will lie when he’s valid? Full integration because it’s their planet, he’ll probably say. We’re the reason the cults hate us.” Heywood hummed over the line, continuing to think. “Ovadia won’t leave the courts or the orphanage. You won’t step down from Silatem. Doubt I’ll see another Pendergast in that seat.”
“There’ll be other candidates. Doesn’t have to be one of us.” Elias flicked a dismissive hand. “What about you?”
“That’s an idea. You can run my campaign.” Heywood rumbled a laugh. “Clean up your reputation first, before we move forward. Let’s avoid more of your scandals.”
Elias smiled at Heywood’s jostling, though the humor faded as he returned to real matters. “You’re right, Union needs impartial guidance. The parasite infection takes another host every day, and constant unrest from hostile wildland hotspots complicates matters. We need an effective resolution.”
“Let’s hope the peace we’ve won so far sustains.”
“Let’s hope.” Elias resumed pacing as John’s execution looped to the start, scowling as he returned to the mention of his suspension and the charges. “Assault. Battery. Attempted murder for a single punch. Unreal.”
Heywood turned toward the figures preparing his vessel, watching them for a moment. “It’s an unwritten rule for Concords to hate hunters. Doesn’t help that your body’s registered as a lethal weapon.”
“I acted out of order. Fine. Still an idiot move to suspend Silatem for two weeks.” Elias paused beside the pit, stoking the flames. The fire cast orange tones against his fingers. “Overcorrection and a danger.”
Heywood’s head bobbed. “Aye. Short-sighted.”
He waved the note at Heywood. “Steve scribbled this himself on real tree scrapings with ink, and I’m honored he’d waste the time and fluid. I’ll barter with you on what he wrote. Remember, he’s a proud Concord serving a second eight-year term.”
Heywood’s weathered stare peered over his lenses. “Olet sends apologies for Delaurin, with a stern reminder of your own conduct in this matter. Please recall what Union’s done for your family throughout our settlement. After one thousand years, it’s time to rejoin, and we’ll help Silatem — and your suspension — if you agree.”
“Near word for word.” Elias smiled. “You forgot a half-apology for the payload that took out Akil. Bastard was a ghost ’til that day, and not a chirp from UIA, even with my active license.”
“I was shocked, like you. But I know you’d do the same if you had the shot in that seat, regardless of your friends.”
“Aye. Anything to stop Akil. We agreed he needed to be eliminated.” Elias turned away. “I accepted the explanation. Doesn’t mean I like it.”
Heywood gestured at the bottles littering the patio. “Figured you’d open my gift right away.”
“Ha. I did. Pried open the prize open the minute I saw the emblem.” Elias tapped the metallic emblem on the crates stacked throughout the patio, an interlaced golden ‘A’ and ‘E’. “You got the Reserve, you old dog — aged five hundred years. Elder blend. The inventory disappeared as fast as the tag activated.”
“Had my eye on it, like you.” Heywood shot Elias a jovial wink. “Enjoy that reminder of your boyhood home from thousands of clicks away.”
Elias looked at the debris strewn across the patio, remembering Altir and his youth, an existence that lay a lifetime away while he still had another lifetime to live. A tone pealed as he ran his fingers over the AE emblem, the sound signaling a second transmission overlapping Heywood’s.
“Nostalgia’s hitting right, mate. Thanks.” He glanced at the second Union Ministry badge flashing from the projector. “I’ll reignite my buzz after our call. Ignoring an MOJ link as we speak.”
Heywood nodded. “Ovadia’s fundraiser. That’s tonight.”
Elias stared at the snow-capped peaks as a flash of his stern mother’s face rose. “Yep.”
“I sent her a donation. She’s done well for sector security.”
“She’ll appreciate that.”
“Your RSVP?”
“It’s why she’s calling. She must know about the suspension.” Elias stretched a weak grin. “Wants to chew me out. That’s her nostalgia.”
“Reconnecting’s not a bad idea. It’s been six years.”
Elias narrowed his lids. “Five before that.”
“Season’s tough on everyone.”
“Yeah.”
“Take the transmission.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“See you later.”
Heywood stopped him before he could disconnect, and an extended pause cooled the warmth of their conversation. “About that review — let’s speak afterward.”
Elias unfolded Olet’s note. “About what?”
“Our warehouse issue. Picked up a thread. Huge mess.”
He raised his head, heightening at the topic.
“I’ll make time.”
“Thank you.”
The transmission dropped. Heywood’s hint at intelligence circled Elias’ thoughts as he prepared for Ovadia’s second link. Once she managed to connect with him, she’d interrogate him about Silatem to justify using her elevated access. He hated that. She knew he hated that. With the suspension, she’d be worse than ever.
Elias settled on the chaise and brought a bottle of Black Dot to his lips. The mountains of Vangral staggered behind John’s execution and observed John’s end like a grim sentinel. In his darkest fantasies, he tore off Akil’s eyelids as he kept the warlord sentient to feel every second.
“Airstrike.” He huffed. “What a joke.”
The same melody from earlier returned, accompanied by a hologram of rotating luminous orbs. A Central Sector ministry ID listed a woman’s title and name, and Elias accepted the link.
“COM.” He pointed the bottle at the projector. “Accept transmission.”
Ovadia Pendergast, a sector level arbiter for Central Territory, appeared in the green-colored robes of the Ministry of Justice. The bright gold shield pinned to her breast flashed with her movements, and her tight features reflected her stern nature. Her shrewd gaze assessed Elias, and her mouth turned down.
“Good God, Elias. Are you naked?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Put something on. Pretend to have decency when speaking to your mother.”
Elias glanced at himself. He wasn’t naked that exact second, though he’d been nude earlier. He gestured at his shorts. “I’ve got something on. Relax. It’s not like I sit around waiting for your call, Arbiter. Life goes on, even if we don’t chat.”
“Splendid attitude. How laissez-faire.” She snorted. “You’ve got a whore there with you and that’s why you’re smug. A giggler like the girls who lined up waiting for you to get home, or another shameless type from the X feeds. That was your worst era — Playboy Pendergast. How embarrassing.”
Elias rubbed his jaw as the many women from his past filtered past him. “I prefer that trouble. Giggling. Shameless.”
“You’ll never outgrow your phases.”
“Life’s a phase.”
“Oh. Poor you. Guess I won’t expect an heir from you this lifetime.” She waved a hand at him. “You’ll do more aimless horseshit until you die, leaving Silatem as someone else’s problem. Under your name, you’ll destroy a thousand years of your clan’s sacrifice.”
Elias grunted. “We’re touching every topic today.”
“I worry about you. The news I hear isn’t as good as I want.” Ovadia sunk from unseen weight, touching her forehead. “A Pendergast needs to run Silatem. It won’t be Adam. He can’t bear your life of war. The shift to peace started with him.”
“I know that.” Elias closed his eyes at the stark difference between his life and his younger brother’s. “I’ll train my successor when it’s time.”
“You’re thirty-eight, and in a decade, you’re halfway to the grave. You won’t turn into one of these immortals, either.” A dry laugh escaped. “We can keep our conversation light, though, if that fits your mood.”
“It does.”
“You look like shit.”
Elias swiped a sedasig from the table, inhaling from the device. A cloud of synthetic herbs misted around him, mimicking the tranquilizing effect of an immortal bite.
“Hello, Ma.” He feigned a smile. “Lovely weather along the terminator. Heard Capitol City’s extra temperate, and that’s perfect for Harvest festivals. You’ve got that big parade.”
“Aye. Weather’s fantastic. Surprised you noticed.”
“I pay attention.”
“I’m glad.” Ovadia dusted away imagined lint, surveying the patio. “Bottles — I can count them from here. Reminds me of John. He’d say he was fine, but kept a bottle close.”
Elias tossed Olet’s note into the flames. The sheet turned black, burning like anything else. “Drinks help.”
“There’s a point when your behavior means you only care about yourself.”
“I know my limit.” He gestured for her to move on. “You contacted for a reason. Get to it.”
“Senator Delaurin — ”
“He’s a dick.”
“You punched him.”
“Clean right hook.” Elias mimed his expert strike. “Perfect.”
“Broken jaw.”
“Yeah. He looked ugly quick.” Elias snickered. “MOJ’s got excellent health coverage. You know about that. He’ll be as irritating as ever next season.”
Ovadia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Not the point.”
“Right. Sorry.” Elias produced a downcast expression to humor her. “I said I’d pay everyone’s fines, cover his treatment, whatever else is involved. Be the bigger person since clearly, I’m the stronger one.” He closed his eyes. “Got your invite. Can’t confirm, but I remember you’re up for reelection. You’ll win.”
“It’s the name,” Ovadia dismissed. “I married your father. The Pendergast popularity.”
“No. Dad said you’d do fine without him, and he was right. Shawn sent you a donation.”
“Thanks, to both of you.” She shifted position, and Elias spotted the familiar view of the family kitchen around her. Little had changed from his memories, though Ovadia had adjusted the colors of the counters and cabinets to Harvest shades. Like the Ipirian sun in Central, the room wrapped her in rusted gold. “What you’re not saying is you won’t attend, even if Silatem’s suspended.”
“I placed it on my calendar.”
“Oh. We’re on the calendar. You’ve done your job.” Ovadia chortled. “The Khelot’s lovely daughter will sing a hymn for your father, and she’s got a powerful voice like her mother. We need more events like this where Concord and Peace find common ground.”
“I’ll try to make it. Affair sounds special and right.” Elias smiled, but Ovadia missed the effort when she looked away. “But, suspended doesn’t mean without obligations. At oh-six hundred I’m headed to a guild review with Arbiter Kip ‘Kippy’ Madsen and it’ll probably go nowhere. 12-hour window reserved. Fun.”
“Emergency audit.” Ovadia’s deep-blue gaze swept over Elias as she named the reason for that review. “You’ve had issues with your warehouses. Made an alarming spike in resupply requests. You, above the rest, need to mind Union’s limits.”
“The requests aren’t our fault. This situation’s ridiculous, and I’m correcting the record.” He rested his head against the chaise’s cushions. “It’s tough running a business when Union coddles violent activists. New collectives appear every year. I’m feeling the Harvest spirit. Aren’t you?”
“I can’t give an opinion, since Delaurin’s a colleague and you’re a foreign entity. You got off easy when many want Silatem to fail.”
“Agreed.”
“Goodbye, Elias. Go back to whatever, or whoever, you were doing.”
“Hold on.” He recalled Heywood’s push to try harder, regrouping his effort to connect. “How are you? How’s the family?” He rattled questions he thought a normal son would ask. “Your end stays away because of Silatem. Understandable. I’d be nervous too if I were a civilian. How’s Adam?”
“Fine, fine, yes, all true, and fine.”
“Kid’s seventeen. Turning eighteen. Getting old.”
“Aye. And it’s been — ”
“Fifteen years.”
“For John.”
“If my schedule stays open, I’ll stop by.” Elias tried the smile another time. “My reputation’s not the best, but Silatem and her president endorse you.”
“Appreciate your loyalty.” Ovadia sounded listless, and Elias couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her happy. “Good day, Captain. Happy Harvest. Be sure to give your vice president a day off.”
The transmission closed, and Elias stared at the inactive projector. Ovadia and the rest of the family reminded him of what humanity lost with John’s death. His father, the leader of humanity for almost a year, remained a hero to many to that day. He reached for the bottle, and an audible yawn caught his attention. He turned.
A short, nude woman cut through the stacked crates in the patio, her soft breasts bouncing with her strut. Rose Desjard, Arbiter Kip Madsen’s secretary and his current lover, arrived. Elias closed the looping footage of John with a quick gesture.
“Don’t stop for me.” Rose gestured at the projector. “Whatever helps. I’ve seen the footage many times, like everyone else. Tried to imagine how you feel.”
Elias stiffened. She’d seen him watching the footage, and staring at his father’s death on loop wasn’t his favorite way to entertain dates. “Well, I don’t want to watch it with you. Matter’s unrelated.”
She shrugged. “You can’t scare me.”
“Nothing to fear from that.” Hostility tinged his retort. His expression puckered. “Swarm of inbred freaks jerking off to their cowardice while wearing dunce caps in bargain Harvest costumes.”
A smile touched Rose’s lips at his insult. “Those horned crowns are an Ipirian thing. Honors their deities, I’ve heard — though I’m only part native.”
“I don’t care. When humans chant at shadows, we call it psychosis.” Bitterness swept Elias. “My father wouldn’t have accepted Akil’s invite if he wasn’t so loyal to his word. I told him he didn’t owe anything to that fucking animal or those followers.” Elias glanced at the patio doors. “I locked those. How’d you get out here?”
Rose looked at the doors as well. “Thought you forgot to seal them when you came out here. You’ve been out of it since we came back to your place.” She kicked away an empty bottle. “We’ve also been drinking.”
Elias frowned. “I don’t forget important details like that.”
“You aren’t perfect. It’s fine. Your secret’s safe with me.” She shifted closer, straddling his knee. “But I’ll leave so you can lock it, if you’d like.”
Humor crossed his face, and he traced a circle around her navel, nudging her legs apart. “No need. You’re already here.” Rose shivered when he grazed her. “How long were you standing there?”
“Not long.”
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing.”
“My calls are for me, not you. Never sneak around my place.”
“I wasn’t sneaking around.”
His intensity bored through her. “Those doors won’t be unlocked again.”
“Fine.” Her stare circled Elias. “I respect your privacy. Rude to cross a line.” She caressed his neck. “No one saw me though, right?”
“No. But no one close to me talks anymore.”
“You still have ties with your allies from Defense.”
“My service history’s public. It’s why everyone still calls me Captain.” He absorbed the sight of Rose’s tanned form and the patch of midnight below. “No credentials needed to see my honors.”
“Yes. You’re impressive. I follow your Bachelor’s Bio.” She guided his face to her breasts, and he grazed the tips with his teeth.
“Lots of women do.”
“Of course. You’re wealthy, powerful, gorgeous, and under forty.” Rose tossed her thick hair. “Women want to catch your eye — or your seed.”
“My seed?” Elias coughed out a laugh. Ceasing his fertility blockers was the last thought on his mind. “Slow the romance, starlight.”
“I’ll leave if I ruined our connection.” She gestured toward the exit, easing away. “We’ll be at the meeting later. Nothing’s lost.”
“Mood’s fine.” Elias drew her back. Her compact figure climbed over him, and her shallow breaths struck his lips. “There’s too much on my mind. But when you’re in front of me, I think less.”
Her dark gaze flitted to his chest. “Good.”
“Pay attention to this.”
He guided her hand to his shorts. She purred as she grasped him.
“You’re hard. Suitable.”
“Suitable?” He shifted under her touch.
“Yes.”
Her kisses trailed down his body. She undressed him and knelt, enveloping him with her mouth, and he dropped his head against the chaise’s cushions. He languished there until he’d primed, and she sank onto him after. The sound of their bodies colliding peppered the quiet.
He stood once their fever heightened, lifting her with him to lean her against a wall. She uttered something foul in that native tongue of hers and dug her nails into his shoulders.
“Is that it?” She grunted, eyes rolling backward. “Fuck me harder!”
Elias obliged.
Encounters with Rose, and women like her, distracted him for a while. In his new firepit, Olet’s words crumbled to dust.
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