9 Years Later

Jason jumped back as the wooden sword brushed his left cheek. The floorboards creaked under his weight. Close the distance, he thought. Bernard did not hesitate. As soon as the blade missed its mark, he shifted his weight to his back leg, his mechanical heel pressing into the wooden floor. The blade almost seemed to change direction without stopping.

“Bio-Mechs,” Jason said. “So unfair.”

Bernard grinned. “War is never fair, boy.”

Jason lunged toward the older man. “I am not a boy anymore.”

Bernard hesitated. Despite his Mech-enhanced limbs, he tried to back away, but Jason was already too close. He placed a foot behind the man, throwing him off balance. With a firm grip, Jason secured Bernard’s mechanical forearm—the one holding the blade—under his arm. Bernard, completely off balance, crashed to the floor, Jason on top.

Jason grinned. “Ha! Would you look at that? Three out of three, old man.”

Bernard did not respond. Jason regarded the older man beneath him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth gasping for air.

“Oh!” Jason exclaimed, then rolled off his old trainer. Bernard sucked in air. “Almost forgot. Not all of you are Bio-Mech. Some parts are more than six decades old,” Jason chuckled, watching his trainer. Bernard gave him an incredulous glare.

The older man shook his head, a proud smile lining his lips. “That was… very well done, boy. If only we could do something about that mouth.”

Jason leapt to his feet, no sign of fatigue—the glory of youth. “One more?” he asked.

“That’s it for me,” Bernard said, standing on shaky Bio-Mech legs. He glared at his mechanical parts. “These need to recharge now.” He rested a hand on Jason’s shoulder. Jason was taller than him now, and the older man had to look up slightly. “Besides,” Bernard continued, “you don’t need me that much these days.” He was right. At seventeen, he’d been allowed to train himself. A year later, and he still dragged the old commander to be his sparring partner.

Jason barked a laugh. “Ha! What’s this? The iron beast turning in early.” He laughed again. “Life really is a mist.” Jason laughed, clapping Bernard on the back.

“Life is a mist?” Bernard mocked. “Didn’t expect you to be quoting the Codex.”

Jason’s laughs cut off as he reached for a bottle of water. “Father—the General has us studying the thing so often, it’s a wonder we get time to do anything else.”

Bernard nodded slowly. The troops had to read it too. Bernard’s legs screeched again, a scraping sound like metal digging against metal. “Well, it’s shutting down now. I’d best be off before I can’t move at all.”

Jason eyed the Mech. They were truly a beauty, a powerhouse. But the General only gave them to amputees. What if we created Mechs that attached to a limb instead of replacing them? Jason shook his head. There was so much that could be done with these Mechs. But for some reason, the General was opposed to Mech-Attachments.

“Bernard!” Jason called as the older man moved toward the barracks. “What do you think of Mech-Attachments?”

The older man paused. “I think the General has made it clear where we stand.”

“Come on, Bernard,” Jason said. “I want to know what you think.”

Bernard’s face grew stern. “I think whatever the General tells me to think.”

Jason sighed. “It’s me, isn’t it?” He said. “By the time John was sixteen, he was already leading men into battle, rescuing people from other lands. If John suggested this, it would definitely be approved.”

Bernard inhaled deeply. “Only the General can answer that.” He met Jason’s gaze. Something in those eyes, those knowing eyes, said there was something he was not telling him. “The General knows best,” Bernard said.

Jason leveled a gaze at the older man. “Does he?”

“Look,” Bernard began. “Everyone has their own lane.” The older man seemed to be choosing his words cautiously. “Some people’s lanes are wider than others, and if that lane is—”

“By the void!” Jason cursed. “Cut the fluff.” Bernard’s eyes widened, and even Jason felt more than a little ashamed.

“Where did you learn to use language like that, boy?”

“Don’t change the topic,” Jason said. “Why am I not allowed to work freely, do what I do best, without restraint? John does as he pleases. There is none above him when he goes on missions. Why am I held back?”

“No one is holding you back, boy,” Bernard shouted. “You are an expert in Bio-Mech. John is a battlefield genius. A prodigy, really. He was born to lead. You need to learn to follow orders. If the General doesn’t want Aven to develop Mech-Attachments, then Aven should not develop Mech-Attachments.”

Marching boots stomped toward them, and the sound of distant propellers drew near. Jason dashed to the entrance of the sparring room, looking out onto the open field. A platoon of red-coat troops moved toward the landing pad on the side of the mountain, led by John.

“Another mission,” Jason said.

I am as good as him, and he has been going on missions from before he could even beat Bernard. Jason shook his head.

“Your time will come, Jason,” Bernard said. Jason flicked his eyes toward the older man.

“Don’t give me that look,” Bernard said. “The General has big plans for you yet!”

“Really now,” Jason mocked.

“Jason, don’t let what you feel blind your eyes.”

“Then tell me this, Bernard: why is John allowed freedom in his area, and I am strangled in mine? My every invention is scrutinized, schematics analyzed in detail, and I am pressed for explanations in every minute section of my work. There is barely any oversight for him.”

“The General is a master commander and wise beyond his years. If he—”

“Don’t give me that!” Jason barked. Some servants glanced toward them. The troops boarded the aircraft now. “Why only him?” Jason said softly.

“You know Bio-Mech more than anyone in Aven now, ever since…” he paused. “She was the best, and now you are. He trusts you to oversee the division, doesn’t he?”

“Not like he trusts John with his division.”

Bernard rubbed his chin for a minute. “Have you asked him?”

“Asked him what?” Jason said.

Bernard shook his head. “Brainless milk-sipper,” Bernard mumbled as he marched away.

“Hey!” Jason called after him. “I am not done.” The stocky, greying man limped away on almost drained Bio-Mech legs without looking back.

⸻

Jason stormed down the narrow halls toward the General’s study. He ignored the beckoning pleas of the red-clad guards. Jason strode in, steaming. John was on another mission, another assignment, another opportunity to pull further ahead. Jason stopped and regarded the solid wooden door, staring past it. Why am I always the one begging for his attention? Jason grinded his teeth.

The heavy wooden door swung open, crashing against the wall. It rattled portraits of great men and generals before his time. The General, however, did not move; he didn’t even flinch. His eyes were plastered to the book open before him. The Codex, no doubt. Every chance he got, he consumed that ancient book with its peculiar way of thinking.

The huge room felt cramped by rows of books covering almost all the wall space. Light shot through the low window behind the General’s wide, oval wooden desk. His desk was pristine as usual, with only a few books, some maps, and an ancient globe. That unfinished globe mapped only one side of the planet—the West. No one dared journey to the East. No one cared. It was not important. Like me. Jason stilled his mind as much as he could muster. Was I just comparing myself to an unfinished globe? Jason fixed his gaze on the man sitting before him.

The guards dashed in behind, flapping apologies to the General, whose eyes still focused on the pages of that book. Jason sucked in a lungful of air, ready to burst, but the General spoke first.

“May I help you, son?” the General said in a calm, regal tone. The calmness in his voice almost quenched Jason’s anger. Almost.

“Father,” Jason called. The General’s head rose slowly, leaning back in his high wingback chair. He started, expressionless, at his second son. The guards stood fidgeting, unsure what to do with themselves. They breathed a sigh of relief when the General dismissed them with a wave. They were shutting the door behind them before his hand was down.

The General removed his round-rim spectacles. “What is it that’s bothering you, son?” That stately air yet fatherly tone again. Jason narrowed his eyes, fighting away the respect and calm that voice so naturally invoked inside him.

Jason’s lips quivered. Why do you love John more than me? That’s what he wanted to ask, but somewhere deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. Then why does John get everything he only wished he had?

Jason locked eyes with the General. In them, he saw no malice, no ill will, no hate. What did he see in mine?

“What do you have against Mech-Attachments?” he said finally. “They have the potential to save lives, prevent the loss of limbs, and the warlords are not sitting idly by. I know Aven has superior technology now, but if we don’t innovate, they will. And soon, they will be ahead.” Jason sucked in a deep breath.

The General leaned forward. “You are our Mech specialist, Jason. I have been looking at some of your designs, and I must say I am impressed. Melinda would be proud.” The General rifled through some papers in a drawer. “Yes,” he said, eyeing a sheet. “You should focus on these designs.”

“No!” Jason snapped. “Those are old. The others can work on those designs that have already been perfected. I’m thinking about the future, what is to come. Mech-Attachments would—”

“No.” The father lowered the sheet. “Your mother would have—”

“I know how to create them, not just tinker or fix. I know how to bring them to life. I think we can do much more with this technology than patch up broken troops.” The General raised an eyebrow. Jason paused.

The General laced his fingers, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes felt like daggers. They seemed to pierce Jason’s very being, those searching, calculating eyes, assessing and reassessing. Silence passed between them for only a moment, but under the General’s gaze, it felt like an hour.

“No,” the General said finally.

“But we could—”

“No,” he said more firmly. “They will not become weapons.” Without another word, the General went back to reading the Maker’s Codex.