Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology Page 16

  The prince picked up the pace to a jog. It looked for one thrilling moment like he was going to fling his arms around me in gratitude—but he slid right by me and grabbed Cascata's neck in a monstrous hug.

  At my side, Haru focused his gaze on something in the distance. It looked like he was trying not to laugh.

  I coughed to hide my embarrassment. Prince Rocco was more concerned about his kidnapped dragon than his childhood friend. So what? I would have been the same way. We'd catch up later. When there weren't people to stare or tease us. To give myself something to do, I pulled my helm off my head and fluffed my hair. Or did that look like I was trying to flirt? I stopped, and shot Haru a glower, daring him to say anything.

  He immediately put on an innocent expression that lasted only until he grinned at me. The jerk.

  But as Haru's eyes fixed on me, he reached out to take my arm, completely ignoring the fact that the prince was standing right there. I stiffened and started to pull away, but instead of trying anything funny, he pressed an ashy gray scale into the palm of my hand. “I heard,” he said, “that solar dragons give feathers sometimes. Like when they accomplish great things together. So …” He shrugged. “If you want it.”

  A sarcastic remark died in my throat, strangled by my surprise at the tenderness of his action. “Well, I … Um … I mean …” Unable to form a complete sentence, I wedged the slender scale into the brim of my helm. After a slight hesitation, I plucked out Zon's green feather, and extended it to Haru. “If you want it.”

  “Sure.” He grinned. “Maybe I'm no Knight, but I at least would like a memento from my first time saving the planet.”

  I smirked as Zon came up behind me, his head bumping against my shoulder. I draped an arm over his neck. “Are you saying it won't be your last?”

  “Not if I can help it.” He grinned and motioned to Zon. “He looks happy to be out in the daylight.”

  Zon hummed, the sound between a cat's purr and a dove's coo. Then, unexpectedly, he dropped his head, and pressed his nose to Haru's hand.

  Shocked at first, Haru wavered and then smiled, running his hand up the dragon's snout. “So, how about it?” he asked us both. “Ready to let a traitor help you save the world?”

  “Nah, I don't work with traitors.” I took the green feather from his hands and tucked it into his hair. “But I might consider saving the world with some help from a friend.”

  Hai slunk up alongside Zon, and Haru pulled away from my dragon to stroke her throat. “Friends it is, then.” He smirked at me and, in an easy movement, pulled himself onto Hai's back. “Let's go own a piece of that sky.”

  I laughed as I mounted Zon. “Well, there's plenty to go around. Welcome, Haru, to Solarium.”

  About Kimberly Kay

  After completing a Bachelor of Science in Creative Writing and an Associate of Applied Science in Illustration, Kimberly uses her talents to write and design media at Alexander's Print Advantage. When Kimberly isn't locked in her own mind organizing shards of stories into coherent plots, she enjoys swordplay, horseback riding, and stargazing.

  About Ashley Gephart

  After graduating from Utah Valley University with a degree in Creative Writing and theatre, Ashley Gephart has landed her dream job as an acquisitions editor at Cedar Fort, Inc. Her life's ambitions have always pointed her to storytelling, whether through directing, acting, writing, or helping others perfect their manuscripts. When she is not torturing her protagonists, she enjoys history, design, playing hammy roles on the stage, and contemplating what it would be like to be a supervillain. She lives in her native Utah.

  The Quantum Dragon

  by Tobias Wade

  “If I don't get out of here, most of the population of the Earth will be sacrificed.” 'Sacrifice' is the word FUS Corporation would use anyway, as if their death had purpose or glory. Why won't anyone listen to me? There is glory in life, not in death.

  If I had known I would be saying those words in less than twenty-four hours, I wouldn't be taking so long with my hair this morning.

  I didn't know though, so I emptied the rest of the jar of gel into my short grey hair. I would have gotten a haircut if the chief financial officer had given me more than a couple hours' warning that he was visiting the laboratory. He would be here any minute now. That man gave me the creeps. He always looked around with his damp fish-eyes as though he was mentally assigning a dollar value to every tool, article of clothing, and person he saw. When he stared at me I felt that number wasn't very high.

  I looked anxiously in the bathroom mirror one last time. My suit and tie were fitted and clean. The white lab coat over them was white and spotless. My glasses didn't quite conceal how tired my eyes were, but there was no fixing that. Did I always have that many wrinkles? I certainly didn't match my ID badge anymore, but that photograph was taken almost twenty years ago when I started working for FUS Corp.

  “What good news do you have for me, Dr. Martin?”

  I shuddered.

  “Coming, Mr. Hankers.”

  I opened the bathroom door. He was already in my office, sitting in my swivel chair, his fat hands folded demurely in his lap. It was the only chair.

  “How is your little vanity project coming along?” Mr. Hankers asked. Was he sneering, or was that just his face?

  “I would hardly call it a vanity project, sir. The implications of harvesting undersea currents to generate energy could revolutionize—”

  “Will it be done in a month?” I studied his face, looking for clues as to whether his stupidity was a jest. His sagging jowls gave nothing away.

  “I see you haven't read my reports,” I responded flatly.

  “Oh, I have. Another year of virtual model testing, then a deep sea expedition scheduled in 2064, with construction crews able to begin by 2066 at the earliest. A very time-consuming and expensive project—you have made that very clear.”

  “Then, with all due respect, why would you think it could be done in—”

  “Because a month is all the time we have left,” he cut in. I hated being interrupted, especially by someone suffering from an illusion of superiority.

  He leaned back in my chair with the satisfied air of a chess player declaring 'check'. It would be worth losing the chair if he broke it and fell.

  “Are you trying to cut my project?” I asked.

  “Oh, excuse me. When I said 'we' I didn't mean your laboratory, or even FUS Corp, for that matter. I meant 'we' as in the human race. We have about a month left.”

  He smiled, as though the satisfaction of shocking me outweighed the discomfort of the human race being extinguished.

  “I don't follow,” I said.

  “Of course you don't. You scientists are always so focused on the little picture you lose sight of what's really going on. Are you familiar with fusion reactors?”

  “How could I not be? FUS Corp wouldn't exist without them. I helped design the very first model in Chicago before I began this project,” I replied. “Power plants replicating the model of the sun, which utilize fusion to convert hydrogen into helium and harness the energy produced to—”

  “Skipping the mumbo jumbo,” Mr. Hankers jumped in, “it seems that the energy we've been producing is not as stable as anticipated. In fact, it's deteriorating so quickly now we don't even have time to dispose of it before it implodes. Seventeen people were killed in Turkey last night, and this is only the beginning.”

  “That's impossible.” I leaned against the wall. Air stubbornly refused to enter my lungs. “Have the rest of the fusion reactors been deactivated?”

  “They will continue to run until meltdown.”

  “How is meltdown even occurring?” My mind raced through my years of study with the fusion process. “The only unstable step is when the radiation begins to dissipate, but the containment chambers should be completely impenetrable—” I swallowed hard as realization dawned on me. “The containment chambers were installed, weren't they?” I added, dreading the respons
e.

  “I did read that suggestion, yes—”

  “The containment chambers were not a suggestion.” It was my turn to interrupt him.

  Mr. Hankers picked at his fingernails before continuing.

  “I read your suggestion,” he repeated, “and weighed the potential dangers against the cost of installment. It was unanimously agreed by the board that the risk was acceptable in non-essential countries. The point is, experts in the field have concluded we have less than a month before reactors all over the world begin going critical through an oversight that no one is responsible for.”

  “If you want forgiveness you should be asking God, not me.”

  “Forgiveness? Goodness no, what a defeatist attitude that is. I came to tell you that your area of study is going to change immediately. The fusion reactors are only a single division in the FUS Corporation, and while this one is suffering, it will be the salvation of our new colonization efforts.”

  “The space program? How could that possibly be related—”

  “People have been afraid to go into space for as long as they've looked up at the stars at night. You have no idea how many times I've been laughed at for proposing large-scale expeditions. In fact, FUS Corporation is the only company to have invested sufficient capital to have the capabilities of a mass exodus from our world. All that is required to conquer fear is an even greater fear: and that has come in the form of a global catastrophe.”

  “Please stop talking.” My fists were clenched. I couldn't look at him.

  “But I haven't gotten to the best part!” Mr. Hankers chuckled. “A life raft is only valuable when a leak appears in the boat. Here is where you come in, Dr. Martin. I need you to convert your virtual model system from underwater to our proposed Mars colony. You can input your environmental conditions or whatever you do, and show that the colony is perfectly safe. As one fear grows and the other diminishes, our shuttles will be the clear choice for anyone who is able to afford them.”

  “And those who can't?”

  I really should learn not to ask questions I didn't want answered.

  Mr. Hankers smiled and stood up. “We are a business, Dr. Martin. Our responsibility is only to our potential clients. Have the virtual Mars colony ready by the end of the week.”

  I should have punched him. I should have screamed. I should have thrown myself from the building and given up. What's the point in saving a species that creates individuals like him? But if I gave up now I wouldn't be killing him; I would be killing everyone else. Whatever I did, he would survive. His type always did.

  I hung my head and didn't meet his probing eyes. Out of the corner of my vision I saw him lift a hand to shake mine. My fists did not unclench. He waited for a second, then shrugged. I heard the sound of my chair being pushed back, and the footfalls of his metal-shod dress shoes clipping out of my office. I sank into my chair, closed my eyes, and wished for sleep that would not come.

  After all, I had never been a man of action.

  I opened my eyes.

  I was never the one to force a man to his knees, even when he deserved it.

  I clicked on the virtual modeling system on my computer.

  I was only a man of thought, and there was work to be done.

  When I was a child I read stories about heroes. They would strap on their steel and swing upon a horse and do battle against villains. I always thought that could have been me, if only I had come face to face with a villain. But the world had been filled with petty evils and frustrations and misdirections, and somewhere along the way I stopped believing in good and evil. All I had ever known was the practical and the impractical. And now, for the first time in my life I was confronted with naked evil—and I bowed to it.

  But I would never be a knight.

  And I would never wield a sword.

  My fingers trembled over the keyboard. I wiped my damp eyes and created a blank world. I opened a website with information on the environmental statistics of Mars.

  And I would never slay a Dragon.

  But I was looking into a virtual world where I created the rules, so why not become the Dragon? He needed me, and that gave me power. There was work to be done, but it wouldn't be for Mr. Hankers.

  I locked my door and worked while the world silently mourned around me. One by one I heard knocks upon the door as my employees asked to leave for the evening. My eyes were fixed upon the screen, and I neither moved nor made a sound. One by one the lights died out through the rest of the building. My lights burned through the oppressive night that willed me to succumb. By the morning my eyes were fire and my fingers ached into talons. My back was curved and splitting with pain. My feet were clawed as my toes clenched the ground in restless energy.

  I felt like the Dragon that stared back at me from my monitor. A virtual virus; given life by my life, will by my will, and fire by my fire. I was a man of thought, but I had created a beast of action. It appeared as a golden serpent with long white whiskers trailing from its face. Its eyes were as old as time, and its body was strong and lithe. It swam through light in my virtual world as a fish swims through water, and cascading reflections poured off it in waves as it writhed. Two great wings raked the Mars skyline and lifted it into flight, and claws like swords cut into the red soil from its four mighty legs.

  I entered the last few lines of code while the morning light grew strong. Below the finished programming I named my creation.

  Aranai, my Dragon. Destroy the destroyer, and save us from ourselves.

  Aranai would infect the system computers of each and every fusion reactor and force them to shut down. There wouldn't be any more casualties from our corporation's greed. All it would take to cool their fire was a little fire of my own. I couldn't wait to see Mr. Hankers' face when he finds out that no one will be fleeing in his shuttles. As the numbing pressure of my weariness closed in around me, I let myself drift off to sleep. The last thing I saw was the sight of my Dragon lifting into the sky and departing into cyberspace.

  * * *

  “Wake up, you're coming with us.”

  I slowly opened my eyes, but I didn't startle. One jumps when they awaken from a bad dream, but I woke into one. The sun was high above my window, and I squinted against the power of nature that mocked our attempts to duplicate it.

  Four armed security guards were standing around me. They were wearing FUS Corp ID badges. I never knew we issued semi-automatics to our staff. If security was already here then Mr. Hankers must have already traced my virus back to me. There was no use denying the proudest moment of my life.

  “How is Aranai doing? What has my Dragon been up to while I slept?” I mumbled.

  One of the guards grabbed hold of my shoulder and pulled me to my feet. I rubbed my bleary eyes and looked at him. His grip was iron, and his face was carved from stone. I'd known punishment would follow my crime, but I didn't know what that meant. I've never done anything wrong or stood up for anything right in my life.

  “Sam! I know you,” I said. “You've always been a reasonable man. You must understand what I've done, don't you?”

  He spat on the floor and gave me a shove. “You created a monster,” he said.

  I flinched more from his words than the pain of the impact. “It only looks like a Dragon for dramatic effect.”

  “Dramatic effect? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're the monster.”

  I looked to the faces of the other guards. I knew those looks! That sneer of disgust, that simmering boil of anger; they looked at me the way I had looked at Mr. Hankers last night.

  “I was only doing what I thought was right!” I said louder, pulling away from them.

  Powerful hands landed on my shoulders, which were already stooped from weariness, and I did not resist any longer. They treated me as though I were fighting tooth and claw however, and pushed me roughly down each step out of my office.

  There! Out in the hallway. Members of my research team were standing outside their offices and cubicles looking a
t me. Men and women I've treated with dignity for years. They wouldn't let this happen to me, would they?

  Were they sneering at the guards? Then why were they looking at me?

  Why was I suddenly afraid to meet their gazes?

  A deafening clamor rose from their throats as I emerged. I lifted my head proudly. At least they would see I was accepting my punishment with dignity. They would know I was a martyr, sacrificing myself to save the rest of my people.

  Something heavy slammed into my left temple. A stapler fell to the floor beside me. My head throbbed as though my own body were reprimanding me. A dozen other objects began flying through the air, and the security bent me over double to hurry me out from the building. Those sneers, those shouts; they had been at me. I would have hung my head now even if there weren't objects flying at it.

  I was rushed from the laboratory into an armored van waiting outside. Here I was bodily lifted and hurled onto the floor in the back. Sam and one of the other guards climbed in with me to sit on two benches that lined the walls. I lay where I was thrown on the steel floor between them. The doors were slammed shut from the inside.

  “I'll admit, I didn't think you had it in you.”

  God damn it. Not him.

  “Mr. Hankers? What's going on?”

  I was on my hands and knees on the floor. A pair of gleaming, metal-shod dress shoes were grinning at me. Mr. Hankers was sitting on one of the benches against the wall of the van.

  “He already admitted to releasing the Dragon,” Sam said. “Don't let him pretend he doesn't know.”

  “His name is Aranai, and yes, I created him,” I said.

  I began pushing myself to my feet, but a boot caught me square in the ribs and I collapsed onto the floor, heaving. My body stiffened with tension as I prepared myself for another blow. My head still throbbed from where the stapler hit me. Everything hurt.