Back To The Bronze Age

By Adrien Leduc

The year is 2048 and Liristan has declared war on the Allied powers. While Canadian Prime Minister Alistair Tillman is doing his best to placate his enemies and assist his friends, there's a traitor on the Hill. He enlists nineteen year old, rookie M.P. Jonathan Tremblay and the beautiful Legislative Assistant, Alexandra Sinclair to help him unmask the enemy within. But what they find is more shocking than they ever could have imagined and the pair of political sleuths must quickly learn to navigate the dangerous game of politics to stay ahead - and stay alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adrien Leduc
• Release date: Aug 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476149646

Adrien Leduc

Originally from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Adrien Leduc makes his home in Victoria, British Columbia with his wife Ashley and beloved Cuban chihuahua Beyonce. A graduate of Carleton University (BA '10), Adrien is an avid fan of Canadian history and hopes to write many more books in his lifetime.

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BACK TO THE BRONZE AGE

Adrien Leduc

Copyright © 2012. Adrien Leduc. Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved.

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(Leduc, Adrien 1987- )

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form than that in which it is published.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Dedication: For J.M. Thanks for believing in me and supporting my dream.

Synopsis: The year is 2048 and Liristan has declared war on the Allied powers. While Canadian Prime Minister Alistair Tillman is doing his best to placate his enemies and assist his friends, there's a traitor on the Hill. He enlists nineteen year old, rookie M.P. Jonathan Tremblay and the beautiful Legislative Assistant, Alexandra Sinclair to help him unmask the enemy within. But what they find is more shocking than they ever could have imagined and the pair of political sleuths must quickly learn to navigate the dirty game of politics to stay ahead - and stay alive.

- 1 -

The green House of Commons bus that transports M.P.s to and from Parliament Hill. Friday. May 6, 2048. 5:10 p.m. It’s overcast and threatening rain.

All done for the day, Mister Tremblay?

Yup, and thank God it’s Friday.

Lionel, the friendly and portly driver chuckled as he closed the doors behind the young M.P.

Amen to that.

Making his way towards the back of the bus, Jonathan Tremblay found the only empty seat and sat down. Beside him, a pale blonde woman was busy gazing out the window. When she turned away from the window and he saw who she was, he was sorry he’d not chosen to just stand at the front.

Jon.

Liz.

The young man removed his shoulder bag and stuck it between his feet.

You gave us quite the beating today, said the woman, turning to look at him. He observed that her grey eyes matched the colour of the sky overhead.

I don’t know what to say to that.

You don’t have to say anything. When we had a majority government, we owned the House too.

He shrugged. I guess that’s what it is then.

Only trouble is, are the Unionists fit to govern when there’s war on the horizon?

The young M.P. bristled at her remark. More so than you Reformers are.

Oh? Isn’t Tillman planning on playing the wait-and-see game with Liristan?

Maybe, but it’s sure as hell better than the shoot-first, ask-questions-later game.

Liz Keller, lauded businesswoman and M.P. for Saskatoon Centre since 2040, smirked. Being pre-emptive about a possible nuclear attack from a nation hostile to our allies isn’t foolhardy. In fact it’s what the Mongols, Romans and Ottomans did. To great effect, I might add.

Well, different time, different place. Right now the world is in a fragile state and Wild West diplomacy isn’t the way to go about handling things.

The bus lurched forwards as Lionel set the vehicle in motion and pulled onto Wellington Street.

The effects of nuclear war aren’t reversible, you know, he added after a minute, as the bus waited for the light to turn green.

I went to university, Jon.

Well, then you know why nuclear war isn’t good.

As long as we take them out first, it doesn’t matter.

That’s a typical right-winger’s response.

She smiled. Maybe so, Jon. But then, see, we’re still alive at the end of the day whereas you lefties will be stuck sitting around the camp fire holding hands and singing kumbaya while the missiles rain down.

If it gets to that. We hope it doesn’t. And through good, pragmatic diplomacy we can keep that from happening.

I hope you’re right.

Crazy Pete’s sports bar. Dim lighting, though mostly dark. Track lighting on ceiling and along bar. Rectangle-shaped bar area in centre of the establishment with many patrons seated all along the counter. Two tall, blonde, good-looking male bar tenders working the counter. Four good-looking young women bussing tables and bringing drinks to the other patrons. Four to six T.V. screens dispersed throughout. Large projector screen on one wall with a throng of patrons crowded around it, eagerly awaiting the hockey game. Framed and autographed jerseys and other sports memorabilia mounted along other walls. Eighty to a hundred patrons. The twenty - forty crowd, good-looking, men and women. Mixture of young professionals and government workers.

"It is that simple, man."

No, it’s not.

How is it not? You wanna go out with her? Ask her out.

Jonathan shook his head and looked away as he took another sip of his Coke. Crazy Pete’s had filled up in the half hour since they’d arrived and the usual assortment of young professionals and middle-aged bureaucrats were already ordering their second drinks.

Why can’t you just ask her out? Be like, hey, whatchu doin’ Saturday night? Nothing? Really? Me neither. Wanna go clubbing? Boom, bang, done, the young man seated across the table from him remarked, clapping his hands together.

Like I said, it’s not that simple, man. She works for the Reformers.

Keegan Porter, his best friend since third grade, stared blankly at him. What’s that got to do with it?

"I can't get