Empire City: Return of the Women

By George Valvis

A year has passed since Jason emerged triumphant from the Bassanium and brought down the abominable law 13. Both Jason and Benedetta are now well respected in Empire city and aim to bring about great change to the entire continent with the support of Romulus Brown who now sees his son as an equal, ready to assume command. However, dark forces are working in the shadows against them and are about to challenge everything they have achieved.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098369392

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Copyright © George Valvis 2021

The moral right of George Valvis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-09836-938-5

Also available as an ebook

ISBN 978-1-09836-939-2

For Anna-Maria

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

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8

9

10

11

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35

1.

Wobbling from the heat, Jason shields his eyes from the sun, trying to scan the sand for the telltale signs of hover-jets approaching from the west. Their cargo is more precious than any trade convoy’s, and they are due any moment. Not long ago, such an event would have been unthinkable. He had stood atop the wall, just like this, as a child, and looked out to the wild and its invisible inhabitants, not with anticipation, but with scorn and fear. Jason looks at the timepiece on his wrist; it is almost a year to the day since he won the Bassanium and changed the city forever.

A gentle northerly breeze disturbs the desert sand and offers welcome relief. Jason is wearing his official black uniform; nothing else would have been suitable for an occasion of this importance, but he is hot and agitated. He wills them to arrive on time, to not have any delays or, God forbid, encounters. He shudders to think of the beasts that patrol beyond the horizon, but the sheer size of the convoy would protect them—or so he assures himself, repeatedly.

It is not the cost of this expedition that worries him either; he could pay for the convoy’s overtime and hardly notice the dent in his bank balance. The Bassanium prize money had made him a wealthy man, not yet as rich as his father, but certainly wealthy enough to finance the transport and accommodation of his guests. No, he wants them to arrive on time for her.

Jason smiles to the wind. Benedetta had adapted to city life with characteristic ease, but he’d woken a few times in the middle of the night to see her watching a distant point on the ceiling. She’d only shrugged and kissed him when he’d asked what was wrong, but sometimes the way she tutted at bike traffic and rolled her eyes at the obscenely gigantic, hovering billboards made him wonder if she missed home. Not that she’d ever admit it, of course. Still, she was going to be thrilled to see three-quarters of Oak Village arriving in her adopted city this afternoon—of this, Jason is certain. And he couldn’t wait to be reunited with his old friends and saviours either.

What a wedding it will be.

Not only does it promise to be the most illustrious city celebration in over three generations, but the event has political resonance—this isn’t lost on Jason, even as his excitement begins to mount as the big day nears. On the whole, Empyreans had got used to the sight and idea of Benedetta. Only yesterday, she had come home delighted from a trip downtown because everyone who’d spotted her had saluted. As well they should, Jason had thought, secretly subdued that this constituted a victory. The wedding, however, offered a radical intervention: a large-scale opportunity for Empyreans and a mixed society of outsiders to interact. Jason doubts the wedding will sway the small faction of judges and their Luddite followers, who continue to follow the old, false ways, but if they could feel themselves a threatened minority, that would be a start. Anger clouds Jason’s observation of the horizon. His father was more optimistic, convinced that the opposition would eventually see reason, but Jason is unsure how reason could ever work its magic on the wholly unreasonable.

At least the wedding would stir things up. There were bound to be a few uncomfortable first encounters—which is why he’d issued the pamphlets on the Brown family’s high expectations for exemplary civilian behaviour—but this was surely going to be on both sides. After all, Old Smoke isn’t likely to let a Senior Aid Synthetic help him to his room without some resistance. Although, of course, the villagers know how to behave at weddings—Jason having been inspired to propose by the one he’d seen during his time there. Hopefully, Empyreans would be struck, as Jason had, by the thought that they had something to learn from the societies of the great wild.

Jason thinks back to that untethered young man: he’d thought it was righteousness that had made him dismiss the villagers to begin with, but he sees now that it was a sense, already growing even then that he’d always been wrong—duped by an upbringing that didn’t quite make sense. That sense of incompletion had manifested itself as aloofness—still ‘a problem’, according to Benedetta—and had seen him divert all his energy into the distraction of racing. Actually, perhaps he hadn’t really changed at all.

A flicker of light against the black line of the distant forest catches his eye. The light begins to throw up clouds of sand and he is suddenly aware of a low humming sound, which in no time at all becomes an unignorable rumble. The first vehicles are heading at full speed towards the Great Gate beneath Jason, who signals to the approaching commander to concentrate all defensive weapons on the convoy, which is comprised of two transporters, four escort vehicles and seven military grade hover-bikes fitted with frontal pulse rifles.

Jason has hired the whale-shaped, windowless transporters, currently hovering forward at four hundred mph, from the city. They are metallic juggernauts, painted charcoal black, capable of transporting one hundred and fifty synthetics at a time to the other cities with which Empire traded. Usually the heavily plated, talmantium transporters would be returning from the wild with all sorts of foreign goods in their huge hull. Today, they have been retrofitted with seats, about a hundred each, to carry Jason’s guests. For ventilation, the top hatch has been left open and two guards can be seen manning the rail gun at the top.

All the escort vehicles are fitted with revolving pulse turrets, giving them a three hundred and sixty degree angle of attack, but with marauder ambushes on the decline, it seems next to impossible that such a heavily defended convoy would ever be targeted. Still, Jason remains uneasy, constantly looking through his spyglass for signs of the enemy. Before long, though, the vehicles pass beneath Jason with a deafening whir, safely arriving in the city. Jason races down the city stairs to the open arena where, once upon a time, he’d started his Crii.

The vehicles are still in holding within the walls, but Benedetta is already waiting. Jason runs to her side. He has time to kiss her tenderly before the final gate groans open and the convoy blasts forward, casting the couple in shadow.

The escort vehicles zoom away to the Military District, and the transporters land—their cargo bay doors slowly opening. Benedetta squeezes Jason’s hand tightly. A colourfully dressed man is revealed: Mayor Quilbie, cloaked in a ceremonial orange robe, clutches his large stomach and manages a weak wave. He shuffles down the ramp, apparently glad to be on terra firma, followed by a riotous crowd of villagers.

The noise of the guests is met by a growing welcome party; Empyreans are beginning to fill the arena, too, looking strangely mournful in their sombre outfits. Empire sons, however, break away from the groups of adults and start to weave in amongst the villagers, seeking out children of their own age, who look at their towering new surroundings with huge uncomprehending eyes.

The city’s borders have been open to citizens from Star and Mineral for the past seven months, an initiative born out of Benedetta’s influence on Jason’s father, but few had dared to make the crossing out of fear for marauders. The Empyreans, who now watch with visible nervousness as their sons join the colourful throng of foreigners, had only seen the handful of salesmen who had come in dribs and drabs over the last few weeks; the two hundred motley-dressed men and women bore no resemblance to the mercantile figures of Star and Mineral’s sole traders.

The least reticent of the Empire citizens are the growing number of reporters, who shout their ill-researched questions (‘Do your wife and your synth get on, sir?’) at puzzled Oakers. Batting a drone camera away with a mixture of impatience and intrigue, Mayor Quilbie raises his wooden staff for silence.

Greetings everyone! shouts the Mayor. I have no intention of doing that journey again in a hurry, so I hope you will welcome me here for a while. The crowd laughs as the Mayor massages his belly. ‘It goes without saying, I hope, that we feel beyond honored to be invited within your esteemed walls, and I’m sure you will all join me in a round of three cheers for the happy couple."

As the arena erupts into hip hip hoorays, Benedetta lets go of Jason’s hand and runs toward the second transporter; her parents emerge from the depths of the loading bay and collide with their daughter halfway down the ramp. Jason watches with a strange knot of an indecipherable emotion as the Disteffanos form a tight ball. He looks around him; no disturbances, none of Ferson’s crew had arrived, everyone was behaving. It was a shame, though, that his father had been too busy with work to join the welcome party.

Jason! Mrs Disteffano is jogging toward him, her open satchel disgorging sundry objects, which Emilio dutifully picks up along the way, as it slaps against her thigh. Jason sees groups of Empyreans back away in alarm, before he is enveloped in her arms. Oh, Jason, the day I heard that the Mayor’s holocaster was receiving signal from you was the happiest of my life!

Jason tries to mumble an answer into her knitted bosom.

Let the poor man go, Stella. Emilio has caught up, his large hand resting affectionately around Benedetta’s neck. They are joined by the Mayor.

We had a grand feast that day, you know, says Quilbie. Everyone thought you were dead, or in prison at best.

Bena, you should have seen your father.

I was fine. I knew they’d be alright, says Emilio gruffly, but Mrs Disteffano and the Mayor scoff in unison.

What a feast though! We were just so relieved, we all drank rather too much…

Well, you both certainly did, replies Mrs Disteffano.

Jason is still laughing at Emilio’s protestations when he notices a frail figure edging his way through the crowd with a knobbly elm walking stick.

Old Smoke! he shouts, but his words fall on deaf ears. Excusing himself from the Mayor’s company, he rushes over to the old man and has to shout in his ear before he is recognised. Forgetting himself, Jason gives his old landlord a tight hug, the dusty smell of potpourri and moth repellent threatening to draw tears.

Easy now, lad! My old bones can only take so much, he says, hitting Jason’s legs with his stick.

I never expected you to come! says Jason, dreading to think how Smoke had found the journey.

Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Jason leads Old Smoke back to the Disteffanos, a task easier said than done as old Oak acquaintances, now all released from the transporters, reach out to shake his hand and hug him.

Smoke, says Mayor Quilbie cordially, doffing a pretend hat. Jason leaves the two of them to comparisons of the journey, neither glowing, and turns toward Emilio, who he’d last seen in Oak in a fit of rage.

Welcome, sir, he says, extending his hand to his future father-in-law. Emilio doesn’t respond immediately, but looks at Jason steadily; Benedetta and Mrs Disteffano remain silent by his side. This was the man who’d blamed Jason for planting the seed in his daughter’s mind that had impelled her to flee the village without his permission. A year ago, he’d banished Jason from his sight. Did he still hold a grudge? Jason watches as Emilio removes the large hand that has been caressing his daughter’s neck, and takes a step forward. In one sudden movement, the big man pulls Jason into an embrace and their little audience bursts into applause.

Thank you, my boy, for everything, he stammers inarticulately. You achieved the impossible. You proved me wrong. So please, he adds, through a wonky smile, Don’t go asking anything stupid like my blessing for the wedding. Jason baulks and Emilio roars, "Of course you have our blessing!

This union signifies the end to the darkness that infected Empire and ushers in a new era of hope and stability for both our societies. I am the happiest father in the world." This last flurry of eloquence proves too much for Emilio, and he crumples into his wife with loud sobs.

Jason, feeling the relief of Emilio’s forgiveness like the sprouting of wings, summons a voice projector and addresses the crowd: I am honored to have you all here. This will be the greatest wedding the city has seen in over eighty years! You will all now be taken to your living quarters, a specially customised area of our Military District, to rest after your long journey.

Specially selected officers begin to guide the villagers from the arena, and Jason returns to his fiancée’s side. From the flushed look of excitement on her mother’s face and the way Emilio is trying to straighten his tie, Jason guesses she has already told her parents that they will be staying in the guest apartment of Justice Tower.

As the air is filled with chatter and hover-jets departing, Jason is overwhelmed with a sense of completeness—the two halves have met, all is as it should be.

2.

Not much has changed really, remarks Emilio, as they dismount from their bikes in the tower garage. His lack of enthusiasm is marked by the wonder currently gleaming from Mrs Disteffano’s watering eyes—she’d driven with Jason, and had repeated, almost verbatim, Benedetta’s own initial awestruck commentary.

You haven’t seen the track yet, says Jason, noticing, after it’s too late, that he sounds rather too desperate to impress the big man. It was modified last year for the Bassanium, he adds, casually.

Interesting, replies Emilio, already making his way to the elevator and tugging at his beard. Whether it is the glass elevator capsule or the improvements to the track that he is referring to, Jason is unsure.

As the transparent, crystal elevator shoots up, Jason is pleased to see Mrs. Disteffano struggling to contain her fear, watching the vanishing ground level in silence, small beads of sweat gathering on her upper lip.

It’s alright, mum, says Benedetta, taking her hand and giving Jason a sharp look, as though it’s his fault the engineering is peerless. I felt the same the first time I rode the damn thing.

When they arrive at the apartment, Mrs Disteffano gulps air, like a caught fish newly released in its pond. She edges toward the panoramic windows while Emilio scrutinises the light sensors.

Oh my God, she stops in her tracks halfway across the living room, before backing into a nearby armchair and resolutely turning her gaze from the windows. Aren’t you scared of living up here?

You get used to it, Benedetta replies glibly, and disappears into the kitchen with the pies and cakes she’d been given by the villagers.

‘Well, it’s very beautiful, I suppose, says Mrs Disteffano, looking encouragingly at her husband, who is now regarding the view, a hand on the pane, and is yet to say a word. How many bedrooms?"

Just the one.

You’ll need more when the children come.

Stella, says Emilio irritably, without turning around. His gaze is fixed on the middle-distance, a frown faintly creasing his forehead. Now and again, he squints and brings his face even closer to the glass, trying to distinguish, perhaps, what he remembered, from what had changed. Jason had always had difficulty reconciling the image of this man, so at ease in rough hemp clothes, with the upright, uniformed youths of Empire City.

I have to say, Jason, you’ve got lovely taste in décor, says Mrs Disteffano, evidently uncomfortable with the silence generated by her daughter’s absence and her husband’s trip down memory lane.

Jason smiles. He hadn’t chosen anything in here. When Benedetta moved in, she’d almost overnight overturned the minimalist aesthetic with which Jason had grown up, or so it had seemed. The grey armchairs now boasted bright orange upholstery, Jason’s old games station had been replaced by a huge dining table, and a glittering chandelier—a feature she’d so admired in his father’s apartment—had been strung up, with great difficulty, by a team of six men. In the kitchen, human-friendly appliances had almost immediately been purchased, following Benedetta’s swift dismissal of all but one of his synthetics, and mysterious bottles and gadgets now cluttered his once sparse bathroom. The only thing that remained the same was the holocaster and his favourite brown (‘cow pat’, according to Benedetta) leather couch. Jason hadn’t minded these refurbishments at all. The original furnishings had all been chosen for him by the tower’s architects, anyway, but there had been challenges along the way. He had never before had to share his space with anyone. In the past, he simply turned off his synths whenever their presence crowded him. These days, however, he would reach for a book and find it moved, or have to pick his way through Benedetta’s clothes and papers on the bedroom floor on his way to work, stubbing his toe more than once on flung-down files.

He bit back criticism despite the exhaustion, typical to all young Justice Officers, from which he was suffering because she never once complained herself, even though he knew each daily foray into the city to seek out a gap in the market for her skills was fruitless, and most likely humiliating. She would nearly always be back from her recces when he returned, and he would find himself split between delight at seeing her, and dismay at the eager way she jumped up from her study of city law, as though she had been waiting for him, bored. He found his own responsibility of keeping peace in Sector 5 of the Entertainment District taxing but interesting. He would sometimes leave out details in case they provoked envy in her.

His father could have given him an easy sector, like the Agricultural District, for instance, where disorderly incidents were a rarity, but had no doubt chosen Jason’s more difficult domain with an eye on his training for future leadership. More regularly than he would like, Jason had to work emergency night shifts when fights and altercations broke out between drunkards. Benedetta would profess to not mind, insisting she’d use the evening to work on propositions for the Reintroduction of Women campaign she was drafting, but Jason would often come back from these nights to an oddly immaculate flat, as if Benedetta had joined Millie in cleaning the apartment, to use up nervous energy.

Still, they had adapted, or tried to—and wasn’t that the point?—Benedetta had betrayed nothing but stalwart optimism, so it was the least he could do to accept the paraphernalia on the bedside tables and her stubbornness on synthetics. And he loved her. He loved her more every day. The way she called his Empire—a city so alien to her, so unyielding—her home made his heart burn with adoration. The day she accepted his proposal was the happiest of his life and her support made him feel like he could tackle any obstacle life threw at him—he just hoped she felt the same. She certainly seemed to, after their exhilarating days off at the track and their post-race tradition back in bed…

Not much company, either of you, today, says Mrs Disteffano huffily, picking up an agricultural magazine from the side table. Jason feels himself blush and thanks God she doesn’t have the powers of clairvoyance her daughter seems to possess.

It isn’t long before the smell of cooking fills the apartment and the family is seated around the living room table for a late lunch that Benedetta has heated: last night’s lasagne, Jason’s favourite. Benedetta speaks throughout the meal, seeming to overflow with questions, information about Empire and reminiscences of old. It is easy to conjure the surroundings of the Disteffano kitchen as everyone chips