Recompense

TWENTY

The aeropod lands in the center of the village, right in the middle of the marketplace. Every eye in Settlement 56 watches as I jump down in my maroon and black Axis uniform with a handgun holstered at my waist, a blade sheathed to my thigh, and a slim, snug-fitting pack on my back. A blackpack, Ethan called it. He drops beside me in the black and blue of the Military, chest crisscrossed with an impressive array of ammunition and weapons. Then the aeropod rises silently and zooms out of sight. Anyone who hasn't seen our spectacular arrival will certainly hear about it soon.

I'm seized immediately by the memory of Will. The village oozes with his presence. Here, I spent every day of my life with him for eight years. From this spot exactly, I watched him board the ship and sail out of sight. I have to consciously push away the ache and focus on the task at hand.

I catch the eye of the baker, who observes us from the door of his shop with a smudge of flour across his brow. I force a normal smile. "Morning, Mr. Parker."

"How do, Jack. Beautiful day." He's too polite to ask my business. They all are. But a million speculations will float around their dinner tables this evening.

"Sure is. Are Councilman and Mrs. Sweeny at home?"

"Reckon so. Haven't seen them today."

"Thank you. Tell your wife hello from me."

"Will do."

Ethan grins as we walk away. "Just another morning in the village."

I chuckle. "You have no idea what a legend this will turn into in the months to come."

"Oh, I think I'm getting an idea."

I lead Ethan through the marketplace stalls to the brick house with its pillared portico and sweeping view. The town looks just as I remember. Nothing has changed in the couple months I've been gone—nothing but me. I march up the steps to the councilman's house, each footfall firm and authoritative, and realize that at some point I have gained the confident posture of the Military.

Mrs. Sweeny stands on the porch, gawping at us as we approach. It's clear she has seen the aeropod. Her eyes bulge as she recognizes me. Then they shift to Ethan, who always carries an imposing air. Together, we look very, very official.

I smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Sweeny. May we come in? We have some matters of business to discuss."

Her eyebrows ratchet high up her forehead. Curiosity alone would have given her reason to admit us, but playing to her sense of self-importance ensnares her completely. She moves back a step. "Yes, yes. Of course. Come in. May I take your bags?"

"We'll keep them with us, thank you."

She ushers us to the kitchen table. "Just give me a moment to fetch Councilman Sweeny."

"Is this the height of grandeur in 56?" Ethan murmurs, glancing at the cracked plaster, the faded carpet, the tacky floral wallpaper.

"This is it."

"Then I understand why you were rubbernecking in Epson City."

Councilman Sweeny enters the room, followed closely by his wife. I see him now through new eyes, a silly old man puffed up with his own sense of importance. It's sadly pathetic. I can't believe I ever held him in any awe.

"Good morning, Miss Holloway." He comes over to shake my hand, taking in the measure of my companion. By the way his back straightens, I can tell he is impressed.

"Councilman, this is my partner, Captain Ethan Alston."

"A pleasure to meet you, son."

"Thank you, sir."