Born Hero Read online

  “A woman is always fishing for a compliment, David,” Mercy said as she stepped into the taxi, leaving David at the entrance.

  As he watched her walk ahead of him, he wondered exactly how beautiful her gown really was.

  ◆◆◆

  In preparation for the evening’s dinner with Don Johnson, David and Mercy had made reservations at the Pinnacle, one of the most extravagant restaurants in all Alönia. It resided on the top floor of the tallest building in Capital City. In fact it was so far up that on most days it poked into Alönia’s lower cloud cover. Tonight Jeshua smiled upon them, for the clouds were sparse and low, and the whole restaurant glowed with the pale-blue light of the moon. The tower looked rather like a peculiar tree, multiple oblong discs all attached to a central structure. Its imposing edifice conveyed an unmistakable message: those who dined there rose above all others; those who dined there were at the pinnacle of society.

  David had arrived a few hours early to harass the wait staff with nitpicky details involving matters he really knew nothing about. Now he loitered around the restaurant lobby in his new suit just a couple minutes before eight.

  “David?” someone behind him asked.

  David turned and saw Blythe in a black pinstriped suit with a bright green cravat. An elegant woman in her early forties clung to his arm. She wore a dress of forest green, accenting her blonde hair and pale complexion. Once she had probably been exceptionally beautiful, though she had not aged well. Cycles clawed her face with furrows of time around her eyes, through her forehead and beneath her jaw. However, what she lacked in dazzling youth, she made up for in sparkling gems. An emerald almost the size of Blythe’s cravat clung to her neck like the vise it was—or perhaps vice in her case. Bracelets and rings, all shining and glimmering in the moonlight, covered her arms and fingers.

  “I barely recognized you,” Blythe said. “That is quite some suit, very dignifying.”

  “Thank you, sir. I have it on loan.”

  “Well, you couldn’t have picked a better night to wear it. Allow me to introduce my wife, Bernice.” Blythe guided the bedazzled woman toward David.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Blythe,” David said, offering his hand.

  Mrs. Blythe gave David her dainty, rock-encrusted fingers. “So this is the young man responsible for your sudden rise to power?”

  “Bernice,” Blythe said with a forced smile. “Probably isn’t the best spot to discuss that. But, yes, David has been invaluable to me, and without him I would never be where I am today.”

  Bernice gave her husband a mocking smile and turned toward David. “Would that he said such praise to all of us. You must have done something truly spectacular to warrant that slobber.”

  Blythe offered an awkward chuckle, and David found himself in a precarious position. He decided to use his favorite weapon in his arsenal for social conflicts: he played dumb.

  “That’s very kind of you, ma’am. Such words coming from you are high praise indeed.”

  David bent to kiss her hand, but froze halfway in the act. Every thought in his head was raptured away—every action, every movement. His very body no longer answered his command. For, just as he bent to kiss Mrs. Blythe’s hand, a woman with auburn hair and a ruby-red gown entered the Pinnacle. Still clutching Mrs. Blythe’s hand, David turned and followed her with his eyes as she walked into the lobby and a greeter took her cloak. Wearing a red ball gown with gold trim, Mercy thanked the wide-eyed greeter and turned toward David and the Blythes. Her skirts billowed around her legs, coming together in a fitted bodice that praised her figure. It looked like a rose, with petals surrounding her chest, opening to display her bare shoulders and a shining face. Her auburn hair was up, but for a single lock that curled down her back. No jewelry—only a large white flower pinned in her hair, its sweet scent growing stronger with every step she took: modest, elegant, and utterly gorgeous.

  “You look … beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so beautiful in all my life.” David hadn’t really intended to say the words out loud, just as he hadn’t intended to say them while still halfway in the act of kissing Mrs. Blythe’s hand.

  “Thank you, David,” Mercy said, her eyes looking a little watery.

  “Are you going to hold my hand like that all day?” Mrs. Blythe asked.

  David straightened abruptly, nearly pulling Mrs. Blythe off her feet. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Blythe. I’d quite forgotten.”

  Playing dumb! David thought. You’re the biggest idiot that ever walked the Fertile Plains.

  “Quite alright, David,” Mr. Blythe said in an easy tone. “One can hardly blame you for losing your wits in the face of such a gorgeous creature.” He offered Mercy a little bow.

  How was it so easy for him? Compliments flowed from him as if they were right and proper.

  Mrs. Blythe let out an exasperated sigh. “Are we just going to stand here, or is somebody going to get me a drink?”

  “I agree with Mrs. Blythe,” Mercy said. “Mr. Johnson, if he is true to form, will be fifteen minutes late. The proper thing to do would be to head up to our private dining room and take some refreshment.”

  “Smart girl,” Mr. Blythe said, guiding his wife toward the steam lift.

  “Yes, why don’t we all just do what the gorgeous creature says,” Mrs. Blythe mumbled as they walked.

  David offered Mercy his left arm, sealed tightly in its rubber sleeve.

  “That is an exceptional suit,” Mercy said as she grasped the proffered arm and lifted the hem of her skirts. “Whoever picked it out was brilliant.”

  David smiled. “Aye, she is that and more.”

  The four of them took refreshment in their private dining room, at the pinnacle of the Pinnacle. The oval room featured a glass ceiling that extended all the way down to the wainscoting along the wall. It felt a bit like walking inside a diamond with the moon and starlight glimmering off all the crystal dishes. The Pinnacle staff lit the room with glow stones so that one truly believed they were dining with the stars.

  As Mercy had predicted, Johnson arrived exactly fifteen minutes late. He was enormous, not only tall but wide as well. Jowls wriggled and shook with every word, his voice resonating inside his impressive girth.

  “Representative Blythe, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” Johnson said as everyone took their seats.

  He had brought one assistant, Devin, though anyone who looked at him would know that his skill set was less in the way of pharmaceuticals and more in the way of bodyguard.

  David flicked his fingers at one of the waiters, and the restaurant staff began serving them immediately. Johnson had come for the food, and David wasn’t going to make him wait.

  “I can assure you that the feeling is mutual,” Blythe said. “May I introduce my wife, Bernice?”

  “Yes, yes, charmed,” Johnson said, rubbing his hands together in greedy anticipation, eyes never leaving the trays of food the waiters brought to the table.

  Francisco had spent the previous week collecting information on Don Johnson’s eating habits, which largely revolved around two words: “lots” and “expensive.” Dozens of waiters brought platters upon platters of steamed spider crab, crushed tuber salads, and rare quilled mollusk. The restaurant boasted specialized chefs who could cut the mollusk meat from the poisonous quills. One wrong slice could lace the delicacy with an incurable toxin. Johnson wolfed down the cuisine with ravenous delight. Flecks of food and spittle flew around the room as he chewed, spoke, and laughed at the same time.

  David did his best not to gag at the sight. Very little in the way of actual conversation accompanied the meal. Mrs. Blythe said nothing, ate nothing, and drank much. Mr. Blythe picked at his food while doing everything in his power to facilitate Johnson’s enjoyment. David orchestrated the waiters, accepting pointers from Mercy throughout the night. Johnson’s assistant—bodyguard—ate his food while assaulting Mercy with roving eyes. Another few minutes and David promised himself he was going
to put his metal fist through the man’s presumptuous face.

  “David, be so good as to pass the sweet buns,” Mr. Blythe said after Johnson inhaled all three of the ones on his own plate.

  David reached across the table with his mechanical arm, but the buns were just out of reach. He stretched a little farther, and then something dreadful happened. His rubber sleeve slid up his metal arm and some of the pent-up gas escaped. It sounded like something terribly similar to flatulence. David snatched up the sweet buns and passed them to Blythe, who pursed his lips as he accepted them, one eyebrow raised.

  David leaned back in his chair, hoping nobody had noticed, but as he rested his arm in his lap, it happened again. The same fart sound, but this time it exuded from his lap. He sat very still. The first incident might have been mistaken for the rolls sliding against the table, and the natural ambiance of the room covered up the second from everyone’s ears, save Mercy.

  “Is something the matter?” Mercy asked as she leaned close to him.

  “That ladies undergarment is causing my arm to fart,” David said, attempting to whisper, but still sounding panicked.

  Mercy sat straight again, taking a quick bit of salad and doing her best to listen to Mr. Blythe’s current story. As David thought of the best way to fix the situation, he noticed Mercy shaking as though she were in a chill. David looked at her. Her face looked intrigued as she listened to the story, but her body shook as she stifled the obvious laughter inside. She wouldn’t look back at David, probably fearing she’d lose her composure.

  David frowned. This was a real emergency, and Mercy was laughing at him. All of a sudden Blythe reached the end of his story and delivered the punch line. As Johnson barked out a laugh, sending flecks of food around the room, David took advantage of the moment and squeezed his rubber sleeve. The rest of the pent-up gas wheezed out with a burbling hiss. Mercy exploded with laughter to go along with Johnson, finally having an opportunity to release her emotion and unable to hold it in any longer after David’s closing performance. She did, however, laugh far harder than Johnson at a story that really wasn’t that funny. The rest of the table laughed awkwardly, joining in only to avoid looking as though they were too slow to understand the joke. Mercy visibly restrained herself, reasserting her rigid posture as the humor simmered down. David let out a sigh. Crisis averted.

  “Aww,” Johnson said after stuffing one last bit of sky fish into his greasy jowls. Then he belched so loud that Mercy actually jumped. “Splendid! Absolutely splendid evening, William! I think I’ll get on quite well with a man of such exquisite tastes.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Blythe said. “Perhaps we’ll have more opportunities once we complete your new facility at the Third.”

  “But, Representative, next it will be my turn to entertain you. Yes. Yes, you must,” Johnson said as Blythe put up dismissive hands. “We will have lunch on my yacht over the Desert Maw. How does a fortnight from today sound? No, wait. I’ll be in Armstad then. Three weeks—what do you say to that?”

  “We wouldn’t want to impose on you, Mr. Johnson,” Blythe started to say, but the fat man bowled right over him.

  “Tell me, lad,” Johnson said to David. “Have you ever sailed the Desert Maw?”

  “No, sir, never,” David said, surprised at being singled out.

  “It’s settled, then. I’ll see you at 9:00 a.m. at Airship Landings three weeks hence. Put it on my calendar, Devin.”

  Devin grunted but did nothing as he continued to eye Mercy.

  The little party rose together and bid their farewells after the appropriate amount of social slavering.

  Once Johnson left, Blythe wrung his hands with delight. “I’d say that was a rousing success. Well done, David and Mercy. You’ve both earned the morning off.”

  “Our pleasure,” Mercy said.

  “Thank you, sir,” David added with a nod.

  Blythe rose and helped his tipsy wife to the lobby, then David offered Mercy his arm.

  “Is it safe?” Mercy asked.

  David frowned and squeezed the rubber sleeve. It sputtered one last, wet fart before fizzling out.

  “Quite safe,” David said before offering his arm again.

  Mercy laughed and took his arm.

  Once they all reached the lobby, Blythe bought David and Mercy each a taxi back to their respective apartments. David dreamed all the way home of a red gown, a sweet smile, and auburn hair. Life seemed like it could not be any better.

  SPIES AND CONFIDANTS

  David used the opportunity afforded by his morning off to visit the Capital City Water Station, famous for its wide and exotic variety of inventory. Since his supply of lubricant cartridges for his bionic arm was running low due to the incessant leakage, he decided to see what the station had to offer. He was not disappointed. When he stepped into the shop, he gasped at the rows upon rows of clear, bubbling tanks. David spared a frantic glance around at all the options. Unfortunately all the station assistants were otherwise occupied with other customers. He meandered through the tanks and gawked at the water prices; some of them sold for fifty sterling per milliliter. He paused at one tank and read the description.

  Magnetic Water: Infused with micro-particulates for magnetic manipulation. Uses include solid-state pumps and steam projectors.

  David marveled at the glass tank, leaning forward and looking through its blue-tinged depths, but when he cupped his hands over his eyes, his metal hand stuck to the side of the glass and vibrated something fierce. He pulled his hand with all his might as it rattled against the tank and the water within began to churn. Finally the hand pulled free with one last buzz and a pop. The air smelled of ozone, and David spun around to see if anyone had noticed the incident. Luckily all the salesclerks were still preoccupied with describing products with well-rehearsed, exaggerated descriptions. David breathed a sigh as he continued down the aisle, rubbing his metal arm where it attached to his shoulder, skin still prickling.

  But another tank of water interested him as he walked down the next row, and he couldn’t help but take a peek into the gray depths as they arced and sparked with current. This time he held his bionic arm well away. The plaque read Thermal Water and described its uses within hydroponic generators. He sucked in a breath with fascination, a feeling that only compounded as he continued to meander through the station and read descriptions. Boiler Water, which boiled several times faster than regular water. Antifreeze Water, which did not freeze at any known temperature. Easy Ice, which froze solid at most temperatures. These were just a few of the more interesting ones.

  As he walked toward a salesclerk, he got a peculiar look from the customer the clerk had just finished helping. He shrugged off the cheekiness and gave the salesclerk his best smile. The freckle-faced lad smiled back with a toothy grin—a grin that was perhaps a bit more excited than the situation called for.

  “Good morning, sir. Can I help you?”

  “Yes, good morning, um …” David squinted down at the lad’s name tag before continuing, “Dillon, I was hoping to resupply with lubricant cartridges for my bionic arm.”

  “Excellent, sir. I know just what you’re looking for,” Dillon said with another grin.

  He turned and led David down a few aisles.

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but did you happen to look into the magnetic water tank?”

  David sucked in a breath and cleared his throat. “Yes, um, as a matter of fact I did. Fascinating stuff.”

  “Yes, sir. The reason I ask is, well, your hair is still filled with static.” Dillon turned with the same smile and pointed up at David’s hair.

  David put his real hand to his head and felt the hair stick to his fingers as it stood on end. “Oh. … That would explain the look that customer gave me.”

  “Quite so, sir. You may want to wet it down before you meet up with any young ladies.”

  “Thank you, Dillon. Much appreciated,” David said as he did his best to brush his hair flat, but i
t was a lost cause.

  “Absolutely, sir. Now, as for your lubricant cartridges, might I suggest some of our custom-mixed water?” The lad stopped at a shelf with a box of prefilled ten-milliliter cartridges. “These here are a mixture of noncorrosive water and standard lubricant water. It will lubricate just as well but it has the added bonus of never causing any rust or other corrosion to any of the internal parts. Users find their bionics last several times longer.”

  David held one of the clear glass cartridges up to his eye and watched the light sift through the liquid. “Is it expensive?”

  “Well, given we mix it ourselves and you can’t get it anywhere else in the Houselands, it is a tad more expensive than standard lubricant water. Say, about fifteen sterling a cartridge.”

  “Fifteen sterling a cartridge?” David’s mouth fell open as he looked at Dillon.

  “Plus tax.”

  “I see. Well, it sounds like a wonderful product, to be sure, but maybe a little out of my price range. Do you have any regular lubricant cartridges?”

  Dillon’s toothy smile melted away as he took the cartridge and dropped it back into the box. “Right this way.”

  As it turned out, the standard lubricant cartridges the Water Station carried were the exact same ones David bought in the Third, though at a considerable markup. David bought only one, to the chagrin of Dillon, and decided to wait until he had time to purchase some back home in the Third. It was a wonder anyone could afford to reside in Capital City, considering the increased cost of living.

  Half an hour later David walked into the Third’s office area on the orbital—later than he usually arrived but still plenty early for what was supposed to be a morning off. After a brief trip to the washroom to comb his static hair back into place, he found he’d arrived before Mercy, for once. Not Francisco, though. He already sat at his desk reading the newspaper. Bethany was late, as usual.

  “Morning,” David said in a cheerful voice, but Francisco only grunted and turned the page. “Is anyone else here yet?”