5: The Greening Path
Tom took a deep breath as Anne swung up into the saddle behind him, closing his eyes briefly as she linked her arms around him and pressed her cheek to the back of his jacket.
God, he loved her. He was so glad she wasn't dead. But ... there was still a but there, weightier than it might otherwise have been for the last few weeks' worth of devastating emotional blows. Not everything that was broken could be fixed. Mended, perhaps even beautiful in its new shape: but not the same as before.
"Hal, you and Maggie want to lead off?" he asked.
"Sure, Dad. Charleston, here we come," Hal said, looking more cheerful than Tom had seen him in ... well, since before he'd ended up in the wheelchair. Nearly a year, now. With his family all safe, the mole taken out, Karen gone, and the plan to move on the Espheni grid nearly ready, it probably felt like they were almost at the end of things, to him; that he'd finally be able to focus on building a life with Maggie and figuring out what came next.
Tom remembered being eighteen, and feeling invincible. But he wasn't eighteen anymore.
He watched as his children moved out in Maggie's wake, little Lexie now napping in Ben's lap. The sight brought a lump to his throat; he loved her as well, with the helpless love he'd felt for all his children when they were born, but he was terrified for her, too. Whether they won the war in the next weeks or not, her future was yet to be written, and he had a feeling it would be beyond any of their ability to understand or control.
One step at a time, though. He glanced a question at Pope; John nodded grimly, then held his own horse back until Tom and Anne passed, silently acknowledging that he'd take the trailing position.
There were things he hadn't planned for and didn't fully understand happening there, too. But there were other things that needed to be dealt with first.
"I missed you," he said softly, opening the conversation.
"I missed you too," Anne replied, hesitantly. "Tom ..."
He took a shaky breath. "I ... let me just open by saying that I'm sorry."
"For what?"
He winced, reminded of the first conversation he'd had with her after Lourdes came to him, with all her talk of psychosis. "For being an ass – again. I was ... more dismissive about your concerns than I should have been. And as it turned out, you were one hundred percent right."
"I was," Anne said, a tremulous note in her voice. Then she cleared her throat and continued more strongly. "But ... I don't really blame you either. I hoped I was crazy, because the alternative ... it scared me, Tom. And it still does."
"It ... ah. It scares me, too. But ... you know, I still have to ask," he said.
Her hair brushed against the back of his neck as she nodded. "I'm sorry; I realized later that I should at least have left a note. I wasn't thinking straight, at the time. Dr. Kadar was insistent that I go tell someone in authority immediately, but you were gone, and all I could think of was Alexis ending up under someone's microscope, or thrown out of the city, or any one of a hundred other horrible things. I'd heard the way General Bressler still talked about the 'alien children', and I knew any number of people felt the same way."
Tom closed his eyes briefly. The explanation made sense; and in an objective way, it was understandable. But it hinted at something he'd been afraid to hear, that crossed a pretty firm line in his definition of a relationship.
"Would you still have run, if I'd been there? Would you have come back, if Karen hadn't caught you?"
Her hesitation told him all he needed to know.
"Tom ..."
"That's ... it's all right. Alexis comes first with you; you know I understand that."
"But...? I can hear the hesitation in your voice, Tom."
He bit his lip, pained; but it had to be asked. Given everything ... he didn't think this was a question it would be fair to put off. "There'll be a lot of interest when we get back to Charleston; a lot going on. I'll be involved with the mission; and with everything that's gone on with Lourdes, the infirmary will be desperate for your help. So I need to know ... are you planning on staying now? Or do I need to warn everyone not to get their hopes up?"
She stiffened against his back. "I ... suppose that's fair. I can't tell you what I don't know, Tom. I don't plan to leave again. But I don't know what'll happen with Alexis. If it becomes dangerous for her ..."
He sighed, remembering the desolation he'd felt when he woke from Karen's virtual reality to mourn Rebecca all over again; the pain that had slashed through him when he'd seen what he'd thought was Anne's body; the numbness that had wrecked him when Dan had told him she'd left, weeks before. The realizations he'd had on his trek through the forest with Pope. And ... waking up, an hour before, with John's fingers in his hair. He wished he had a sword to slice through the Gordian tangle they'd all spent the last many months knotting into place, but human problems were seldom that easy to solve. And ... he'd grown up with the results of what happened when someone committed to a relationship while still keeping one foot out the door. Maybe it worked for some; but he couldn't imagine himself choosing to live that way.
"You told me once," he said softly, "that we don't have the luxury of having a lover's spat in this world. We have to keep a clear head. The thing is – I don't think we can do that with each other anymore. No; I don't think I can do that, with you. When I failed you, you left rather than try to work things out. The situation was extreme ... but I don't think that makes the issue less relevant. I love you. I'm so glad you're alive. But if you can't promise to be there, and I'm not meeting your needs, it's not fair to either of us to continue. And not just for me. Matt was devastated when you disappeared, and the boys – rescuing you and Lexie has been all they've thought about for weeks. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
She took a moment to answer. "I don't suppose you would agree to another chance," she suggested.
"Not unless you really believe the results would be any different," he had to admit.
"On my part? Or on yours? When I needed you, you gave me promises that you would do better. But the job came first, again. So yes." She cleared her throat, her voice strengthening again. "I do understand."
"And ... I am sorry," he felt the need to repeat himself, glancing back over his shoulder at her. "I still want to be there for you, and for Lexie."
"As much as the job lets you," she said; her expression was sad, but as resolute as his, which helped convince him he'd made the right decision. "And ... mine too, I suppose."
Tom nodded, staring at her; taking in the beautiful face he'd woken up to for so many months, remembering the haven they'd made of the first room they'd shared together, back when the Second Mass had still been on the road. Maybe things would be different, if the only concern they had was still the fate of those few hundred souls. But the scope of their world had changed; and their relationship hadn't made the transition with it.
He reached up to cup her cheek, and pulled her in for one last, gentle kiss. "I'm going to miss us, though."
"I will too," she said, a wobbly smile breaking through her emotional shield. "I did love you, Tom Mason."
They rode silently after that for a while; then, at the next break, he dismounted, transferred the dozing Lexie back to her, and walked over to John's horse.
"Hey," he said, squinting up at the scruffy figure looming over him.
"Hey," John repeated, scowling down at him. "So how's things with the missus? All's well that ends well in Mason land?"
Now that he knew what he was listening to, he could hear the ache in John's voice. No; he didn't trust himself to be able to meet Anne's needs anymore, nor her to meet his, and it had been that way for a while, if he was being completely honest. He didn't know if reaching out again would do anything but cause more pain. But he could always trust John Pope to be John Pope, at least; and while John might vigorously disagree with him at times, he also had more ability to cut through Tom's shields than anyone else since Rebecca. When John had a problem with him, he'd always know it; and probably half the community with him. Funny, the things that seemed important, now that the last of the softness of the civilized world had been burned out of him.
He almost wished he'd got to see John and Rebecca meet in Karen's virtual world; he liked to think they would have got along, in a sort of affectionately vicious way, bonding over disparaging his faults. Probably no one else in his life would understand this thing with John, but ... he was pretty sure Rebecca would have laughed.
"Not that the one really has much to do with the other," he said, wryly. "They aren't. And ... situation pending."
John sat up a little straighter at that, glancing back over toward Anne. "Aren't what?"
"Think your horse has enough left to ride double for a while?" he replied, answering by way of ducking the question.
John pursed his mouth, studying him, then relented and held down a hand.
Musical horses grew into something of a game over the next several days; they couldn't double up on the same ones every day, but everyone also had their favorites. And some combinations just wouldn't work at all. No one would willingly ride with John, except himself or Alexis, for example; Maggie would only share with Hal or Anne; Anne and Tom avoided riding with one another again after that initial conversation; and Ben found riding with anyone except his little sister or Hal extremely awkward.
Tom found it hard to care; he was still, he suspected, a little in shock from the whiplash of fury and grief he'd been dealing with for weeks, even after the cause had been wiped away. But he did find a moment for one more careful conversation before they reached Charleston, mindful of that careless daughter-in-law remark John had made weeks before. He would hesitate to put a label on anyone's relationship, these days, but he didn't think he was going out on a limb to believe she could be, if Hal didn't manage to screw things up.
"Maggie ... I know you're Anne's friend; and I know you and Pope don't get along," he began, seizing an opportunity when they were breaking camp on the last day.
She snorted, one corner of her mouth curling in a wry smile. "Look, it's none of my business what's between you and Anne. Or you and Pope."
"It is when you're a part of this family," he said. Enough that he thought he should at least hear her concerns; no relationship existed in isolation, really. One of the reasons Anne's decision to leave had hurt so much, not only for his sake, but for all the other bonds that had been strained when she'd snapped that one.
She shook her head, tucking a strand of long blonde hair back over her shoulder. "But I'm not," she said.
"Yes, you are," he insisted. "Regardless of where things end up with you and Hal, you're at least as much family now as Dan is. You matter to us, Maggie. And if ... well, I thought I should say ..."
She sighed, managing to sound simultaneously touched and irritated, somehow. "Look. It's ... complicated with me and Pope, you know that. I can't say I'll ever really forgive him. He'd say he rescued me from near death; I'd say he kidnapped me and fed me to his gang. He'd say I should have told him what was going on; I'd say he damned well knew, and the fact that I stayed so long just meant I saw no other options, not that I consented to what they wanted from me. But there were times, when it was just him and me ..."
She stared off into the distance then, a pained sort of wistful expression crossing her face, like a high cloud passing over the sun. "I loved him a little; I hated him more. I still do. Probably always will. But I also think he was a very bitter, damaged man before he met you. And you ... and your sons ... have this habit of making the people around you want to be their best selves." She shrugged.
It was his turn to feel touched. "Funny," he said, swallowing. "He said something similar once. About me wishful-thinking people into being all they could be. He was fairly accusatory about it, actually."
"Yeah, I'm not surprised," Maggie replied, wryly. "You're both kind of high maintenance guys. So – enough said about it, all right? I'll just wish you all the luck; because with Pope, you're definitely going to need it."
Surprised into a chuckle, he held out his arms in spontaneous invitation. "Thank you, Maggie."
She stared at him for a moment, then took the hug, a careful, quick clasp of arms. "Thank you. For asking. You're good people, Tom Mason, no matter how poor your taste might be."
"I appreciate that," he replied, smiling. "...I think."
Charleston was a welcome sight after the long trek: the orderly center around the underground shopping mall, the Liberty Tree glittering in the square, the strings of lights marking out Popetown, the barricade lines of sentries squaring it all off, and the domed bluish glow of the Volm compound up on the hill beyond. It all seemed intact at first glance, everyone moving around in orderly fashion.
Up close, there were a few more signs of wear. There were many incredulous, happy greetings for Anne and startled but welcoming smiles for Alexis; Matt ran up before they got very far, exclaiming over the Ripstik and staring wide-eyed at his half-sister; and Dan greeted him with a brief but very heart-felt clasp of arms. But Marina looked grimly worried as she passed on a request for an immediate meeting with President Hathaway of all people, and he saw distinct clusters in the crowd that gathered that kept well apart from one another.
"First things first," Tom said, walking into the meeting room after seeing Anne and the kids off to a variety of other immediate duties, and fielding a surprising number of "so glad to see you, but ..." complaints from members of the Second Mass. "Cochise, it's good to see you, my friend; and President Hathaway, I'm pleased to see you survived the crash. It would have been quite the blow to lose you."
"From what I hear, it would have been quite the blow to lose you as well, Professor," Hathaway acknowledged, tipping his head. He was seated behind the meeting table, still not quite in full health; but better, Tom gathered, than he'd been on his arrival. Cochise had saved his life, but it had been close. Marina, Dan, General Porter, Anthony, and Pope rounded out the participants.
"Yes, and let's talk about that for a minute," he said, cutting the niceties short as he advanced to the foot of the table opposite Hathaway, John following right behind him. He didn't intend to give up the high ground in the conversation by actually sitting, though; instead, he gripped the back of a chair and continued.
"I know I haven't insisted on my title much, here in Charleston. And I don't have the same pre-invasion right of authority that you do. But what I do have is a majority of people in this city who know me, who have confidence in me and my vision for our community, and who have expressed distress over the way events diverged from that vision in the short time I was gone."
Hathaway narrowed his eyes slightly; and something in Tom's gut tightened. This was the actual President of the United States. Two years before, he'd never have dared to speak to the man in such a way. But the educator he'd been then hadn't carried the fate of the world on his shoulders. And as much as he still thought he might not be the best man for the job, long term ... there was a reason Charleston was three thousand strong and thriving, while Hathaway's administration still cowered in small communities linked by the equivalent of Pony Express, fearing to draw the attention of the Espheni.
"What are you saying, Professor?" Hathaway said, a disapproving note in his voice.
"I'm saying, that perhaps you should respect my position enough to at least call me Governor, because that is what I essentially am here as long as our governments remained linked, and treat my administration accordingly," he said. "I realize that under the old structure, declaring war and making treaties is an exclusive power of the federal government; but given the imminent danger and lack of prior contact, and as you yourself have lately approved those actions, that is not the issue here. What is the issue is that I expected to return to find the Volm weapon ready to deploy, in concert with a contingency plan I developed to provide for the future health and safety of my people. But instead I've been met with tales of work stoppages; of my careful and considered resource allocations disordered; of units redeployed – "
"If you're talking about Dr. Kadar and those Berserkers ..." Hathaway frowned; and over his head, Tom saw Dan exchange a pointed glance with a rueful Marina Peralta.
"I'm talking about a classified project vitally important to the war effort; and a group of men and women that I trust with my life, for whom I left very specific instructions," Tom lifted his chin.
Hathaway's frown deepened at that. "Instructions that no one but Dr. Kadar appeared to understand; and which seemed irrelevant when no one even knew whether you would be returning to use them. Besides, Cochise assured me that whatever it was, was not a part of Project Orange, and thus would only slow our progress in striking the final blow to end this war."
Tom looked down at that, then nodded. It was late in the game, but there was still a little room to maneuver. Not enough to stop the inevitable; but perhaps enough to soften the sting of what he'd done, if he'd been wrong. Or ... the other way around, if Dan's and Pope's concerns proved the more relevant.
"Cochise is my friend; and the Volm have been, and continue to be, valuable allies." He smiled tightly at the alien he knew best, who'd shared so many personal stories with him; and yet, conveyed so little of value regarding the larger picture of the war beyond the need to take down the grid. The Volm were so much more relatable than the Espheni ... but he'd occasionally wondered if that might make them more dangerous should their joint aims ever diverge, because people would want to empathize with them. He certainly did.
"Yet many of our citizens have also expressed valid concerns that we cannot simply expect the Volm to win this war for us, and then turn around and expect them to respect our sovereignty afterward. Even the most benevolent power imbalance, in human history, has not remained that way for long; and as we all know, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Cochise, I've refrained from pressing this point before: but I'm afraid the time has come for a clear answer. What are your people's plans for us, for the human resistance, after the grid is destroyed?"
Cochise blinked at him, wide-eyed; and even Hathaway seemed to be holding his breath for the answer. "I am afraid I have not the authority to answer for my Commander ..." he began.
Tom shook his head. "I'm not asking what you have the authority to promise, Cochise. I'm asking ... based on past examples of what happened when the Volm landed on a world previously enslaved by the Espheni. What is the usual manner in which the Volm treat with indigenous species?"
"I ... I assure you, Professor, I will make every recommendation to the Commander that your species be treated with the respect you so clearly deserve," Cochise replied, inclining his head in one of his polite nods.
"Weasel-wording at its finest," John drawled from behind him. "I imagine the fishheads thought they were showing plenty of respect when they invited Mason here to share their hospitality. Twice. And we all know what came of those meetings."
"Mister, ah, Pope, is it? This is neither the time nor the place ..." Hathaway began.
"Oh, but I think it is the time. And the place," Tom interrupted him coolly. "Though I think I can get to the heart of the problem a little quicker. I just wanted to give Cochise the opportunity to come clean with us, first. But I think we'd all forgotten we were dealing with a being who told us straight-out that his species was engineered for war. You have orders not to tell us anything else, don't you, Cochise?"
"I, ah. Yes, I'm afraid so." His alien friend blinked in distress.
Tom took a deep breath, then let it out through his nose, and held up his hand again as several voices rang out at once, Dan's most prominent among them, demanding further answers.
"And fear of that being the case, and ... some very reasonable advice ..." He nodded to Dan, then over his shoulder to John, "is what led me to institute my contingency plan. The Espheni grid can only be destroyed with the greater Volm weapon; I do believe that. But there is no reason for us to remain at a disadvantage in other areas, other than the desire to keep us under someone's heel. We had no weapons to rival Volm-modified pistols and rifles; but we do have a genius scientist with an affinity for such technology, and a number of people who've already spent considerable time helping the Volm with their own construction."
Dan took a sharp breath then, his eyes lighting up. "How many?" he asked, immediately skipping past the rest of the explanation to hit the mark.
Tom smiled back at him, shared satisfaction cutting through the disappointment of having to use the plan at all. "Enough to equip a third of our active fighters," he said. "It'll take a while longer to convert enough to arm every adult who can fire a weapon in the city, but Dr. Kadar tells me that can be managed within the month."
"But this is unacceptable!" Cochise interjected. "It is not permitted!"
"Yeah, well, we don't take too kindly to people who condescend to permit us anything. Thought you knew us at least that well by now," John drawled.
"I'm sure you could take them away from us, if you really tried," Tom nodded to Cochise. "But only at the expense of completely ruining everything you've managed to build here over the last nine months. I can't imagine that would make your Commander any happier. So ... shall we table the matter to reevaluate when he arrives? And in the meantime, we'll continue to take what measures we see fit."
Cochise looked around at all of them, then inclined his head again. "I can see ... that I will have no further input here today. We will continue to ready the weapon for the planned deployment in two days. Please inform us if that plan should change."
"Now there goes one displeased bubblehead," John snarked as the Volm turned and left the room. "Always knew they were too good to be true."
"I still think there's a friendship there worth preserving," Tom said wistfully, shaking his head, "but not at the expense of human lives and freedom."
"On that, at least, I think we can agree," Hathaway finally spoke up again, from the beginning of the table. "Professor ... excuse me, Governor Mason ... perhaps this meeting would be better reconvened tomorrow, when all parties have had more of a chance to digest the situation as it stands?"
"That would be ... acceptable. Colonel Weaver? General Porter? Marina?" He made a point of nodding to the other official members of his administration.
"We'll be ready at that time, Governor," Marina tipped her chin up, taking the line he'd given her and running with it.
Porter also agreed, exiting the room with Hathaway and a "by the way, good to see you again, Tom"; Marina exited after a likewise subdued but sincere greeting, in company with Anthony, murmuring about all the paperwork he'd just arranged to inundate them with.
"You squirrely bastard," Dan laughed, pounding him on the back on his own way out.
"Miles to go, Dan," Tom nodded to him. "Miles to go."
Finally, there were just two of them left: he and the one man who hadn't had elsewhere to be when the meeting shattered like a river rock in a campfire. He smiled to himself at the thought, and met Pope's gaze.
"Well?" he said, raising an eyebrow.
"There you were, bitching at me for stealing a pistol," John shook his head, admiringly. "When you stole a whole damn armory."
"Built one, technically. And it's technically your fault, too."
"How do you figure?"
"When you talked me out of retiring, it made me reexamine ... a lot more than just my job." A lot more than just the state of the Volm alliance as well; but he didn't think he had to spell that out.
"So you're telling me – you stole that armory for me," John's grin grew to insufferably smug proportions.
"I'm not sure whether I should confirm that; if I do, your ego might not fit through the door when you leave," Tom replied in kind.
John laughed out loud, then reached out, grabbing Tom's face in both hands, and pulled him in for a brief, bristly, and very enthusiastic kiss.
"Now I've really got somewhere to be; but put a pin in that for later, Professor," he smirked he let go.
"Don't think that's going to be a problem," he chuckled, heart lightened, as John practically skipped out of the room in the direction of Dr. Kadar's lab.
The assault on Jacksonville, two days later, was almost anticlimactic compared to all that had come before. The Volm fired their weapon, drawing in a strand of the grid and causing it to backfire on the local tower; moments later, the structure collapsed into rubble, taking the grid down with it.
There were few mechs and Skitters on scene, and those that were there were ineffective in the extreme, still disoriented by diminished resources and transitioning to a new overlord. The massive Volm ship that landed on the ruins was more imposing; but, wary in advance of what it portended, Tom had set his men to an orderly withdrawal the moment the weapon was fired, drawing back toward the haven of Charleston. A number of hardy local survivors had gone with them; scouts had been sent through the city and surrounds in advance of the attack to reduce the risk of collateral damage.
Tom met with the Volm Commander with only Cochise, Dan, and John at his side, and made plain his willingness to make the Volm most sincerely regret it if he tried to go ahead with his half-baked "relocate the natives to Brazil" proposal. Without more hostages onsite, and professing to wish only for the safety of the indigenes – which did not include killing them to save them – there wasn't much for the Commander to do but let Tom's party go.
He shook Cochise's hand in farewell, and very deliberately did not refer to Alexis. She was still growing at an unnaturally fast rate, going on eight already; but whatever her fate, he hoped she'd be able to make her own way without further taint by whichever advanced species meddled with her genetics.
Then they returned to Charleston, to general acclaim.
"You know Mason, there was a time I would have never admitted it ... but you done good," John said, standing once again in the familiar space of Liberty Square, spreading his arms to embrace the revelry around them.
"There was a time I never thought I'd say the same," Tom grinned in response; and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean into him for a second kiss. Catcalls rose around them; he knew he'd be facing several interrogations later. But it seemed the perfect time to start something new, there at the end of the beginning of the war.
"We did it," he breathed after a moment, seeing the same incredulous elation in John's face.
It not such a perfect time for a slight young woman, about halfway between Ben's and Matt's ages, to drop the plate she was carrying in front of them – but when he heard what she said, Tom couldn't find it in himself to object.
"Dad ...?" the girl said, staring at John in disbelief.
"...Tanya? Oh my God." John went instantly pale, collapsing to his knees on the rough courtyard stone.
A ripple spread through the crowd, word spreading to those further out. Then Matt came forward; and Ben; Hal; Maggie; Dan and Jeanne; and Anne with Alexis.
"You're here!" Alexis said, smiling beatifically, and threw her arms around the awkwardly embracing pair.
The crowd went on around partying them, music playing, voices raised in conversation and laughter; but in the center, Tom linked arms with his makeshift family, circling their newest member.
They'd been through a terrible ordeal, and there would undoubtedly be more before the war was fully over for their people. But in that moment of celebration, in the place they'd won together: there was only light, enough to cast shadows for generations yet to come.
-(THE END)-