Raven's Song Read online

  Caitlyn broke the reverie. “Good to see you again, Lieutenant-Colonel Von Raben.”

  “Likewise, Miss Floyd,” Max returned.

  Caitlyn’s smile vanished, and she darted forward and threw a jab at Max’s face. He blocked the punch and attempted a palm strike at Caitlyn’s sternum, but the woman pivoted her upper body so that the blow passed by harmlessly.

  “So this is how you greet me after two year’s absence?!” Max cried as he attempted a left hook at Caitlyn’s exposed kidney.

  Caitlyn leapt away from his attack and entered a new offensive fighting stance, “You never called or wrote!”

  “And this is my punishment?! A beatin’?!” Max exclaimed as he moved in and lashed out with his left foot in a stamping front kick.

  Caitlyn caught Max’s foot in her right hand, “It’s a start!”

  Max threw his free foot up towards Caitlyn’s face, a maneuver called an enzuigiri kick, and it was all she could do to bring her off hand up to block the attack. The momentum of his attack caused Caitlyn to lose her steady footing, and the two of them ended up on the ground together. Max was the first to gain his feet, but did so only seconds before his opponent. Caitlyn let out a low, frustrated growl and rushed at Max.

  Max stood calmly as Caitlyn threw a left jab at him. He blocked this attack, and the five more that followed in rapid succession. Having trained since the age of four, Max was one of the most accomplished combatants in the entire Federation, his name spoken with reverence wherever the subject of martial skill came up in conversation. When Caitlyn became interested in competitive combat sports in her early teens, she used every opportunity to hone her skills with Max. She was now more skilled with weaponry than Max, though he could still edge her out in hand-to-hand combat on most occasions. He typically humored her in her martial games and found the experiences to be quite enjoyable and invigorating, but today he was anxious to get past the silliness.

  Okay, he decided, we’re done.

  Caitlyn went to hit Max in the jaw with a powerful right hook, but was temporarily caught by surprise when he effortlessly caught her by the wrist. Thinking he would be distracted by her right arm, she attempted a fast left hook at his still exposed face. Without removing his gaze from her face, Max grabbed a hold of Caitlyn’s incoming left wrist, and before she could react, he pulled her close while simultaneously pinning her arms behind her back. She struggled valiantly for a moment, then resigned herself to Max and gazed lovingly into his eyes.

  “I could still get out of this hold, you know,” she assured him.

  “Then why don’t cha?” Max countered.

  “Well, to be honest, I kinda like being in your arms.”

  “So I win?”

  “Until next time.”

  “Then I have to be rewarded,” Max insisted.

  “Will a kiss do?” Caitlyn asked with a mischievous little smile.

  “Absolutely!” Max said as he released his grip on her wrists and girded her waist with his hands.

  Caitlyn draped her arms around Max’s neck and proceeded to kiss him with a deep, hungry passion. Max held her tight as the kiss continued, and Caitlyn’s arms moved from around his neck to clutch at his shoulders. They were still kissing when Caitlyn snaked one of her legs behind Max’s, pushed on his shoulders, and sent him falling onto his back. He acted reflexively, pulling Caitlyn down with him so that she ended up lying on top of him, the kiss breaking for only the briefest second. They resumed the kiss, which went on for several long, fiery moments more. Caitlyn eventually ended the kiss and gazed down at her lover.

  “My sweet man has come back to me,” she cooed.

  Max caressed her cheek, “And my lady love has taken me back.”

  “Always and forever,” she assured him.

  Caitlyn rolled off of Max, lay in the crook of his arm, and snuggled in close to him, her head resting on his chest. They lay in silence beneath the oak tree for some time, basking in each other.

  “Congratulations on your victory this mornin’,” Max eventually said.

  “It was an easy victory, one that earned me a boring party with all my parents' friends and business acquaintances,” Caitlyn remarked nonchalantly.

  “And a visit from me,” Max pointed out.

  Caitlyn smiled, “The highlight of my day so far.”

  “You told your dad we’re datin’ again, didn’t cha?”

  Caitlyn chuckled, “What gave it away?”

  “Thought I’d catch frostbite if he hit me with anymore coldness, but I can’t say I blame him. I haven’t exactly been your prince charmin’ the last few years,” Max told her, “Anyhow, I’d like you to come with me to East Chieftown this afternoon.”

  Caitlyn propped herself up on an elbow and pinned the man with a curious stare, “What for?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “It must be a big one if you want me to go into East Chieftown, what with all the craziness between your father and the Fulsoms,” Caitlyn observed.

  “The biggest yet. So, come with me?” Max asked, the tiniest hint of hopeful anticipation in his voice.

  THREE

  “What year is it now?” Daryl 1984RV asked the nine-year-old girl seated before him, his mellow voice containing a nearly imperceptible hint of audio static.

  “3164,” the girl answered immediately.

  “Correct, and in 2914, 250 years ago, I was given awareness.”

  Daryl 1984RV, or Daryl, was of average height for a human male, thin of carriage, and his face was sculpted to appear remarkably handsome. He was completely hairless, his synthetic “skin” a glossy royal blue, and his eyes jet black.

  “In the year 2446, Federation scientists succeeded in creating the world’s first fully-functioning artificial intelligences. Because limits in technology prevented these intelligences from being stored in small computers, they were all stored in a massive electronic device called the Hub, which also allowed them to be carefully monitored by their creators. These intelligences were allowed to wirelessly control synthetic humanoid bodies, to which a sex was assigned based on the preference of the purchaser, males like me having royal blue skin while females had rose pink. The Synthetically Intelligent Robots, or SIRs, as they were dubbed, were integrated into human society, and after a period of adjustment, they were eventually welcomed as servants of the human race.

  “Due to changes in societal views and Federation laws, the SIRs have been afforded rights they did not originally possess, such as the right to be protected by the law in a manner enjoyed by their human creators, to interact socially with anyone they see fit, and though they are not allowed to alter their bodies in any way, they can wear clothing, if they desire. SIRs are given unique names, a given name followed by a last name consisting of four numbers and the initials of their owner’s home state. I, obviously, am a SIR. For the last two-and-a-half centuries, I have served the Von Raben family as their advisor on political, social, and economic matters, my most recent employer being Frederic Von Raben, the Chairman and CEO of Veriform Holdings. In my free time I choose to tutor you, Mr. Von Raben’s granddaughter.”

  On this day, Daryl and his student were holding their lessons on Frederic’s front lawn. His student, a pretty girl with long, rich auburn hair and wide, solemn brown eyes, was named Angelina, and she was the daughter of Bertram Von Raben and his now deceased wife, Melissa Neal-Von Raben.

  Daryl continued, “I know that does not fully answer your question regarding the origin of the SIRs, but I cannot deviate any further from my lesson plan. Returning to the subject at hand, the Democratic Federation of States, in which we live, was founded in 2355, a little over eight hundred years ago. It is a nation comprised of nine states, each named thusly: Scarab, Raven, Snake, Horse, Cat, Rabbit, Bull, Shark, and Bat. The names, though silly sounding, once belonged to the divisions comprising the first standing army of the Federation. Now, can you tell me the name of the country that existed in this land before the Democratic Federation, as our n
ation is commonly called?”

  A few seconds passed before the girl confidently answered, “The United States of America.”

  Daryl smiled and nodded, “Very good, Angelina. The Federation was founded on principles taken directly from various political, economic, social, and religious doctrines devised by humanity over the course of its existence.”

  Daryl allowed the girl a few moments to record these facts on her Cell before continuing.

  “After the Battle of Anadarko in 2355, Geoffrey Badeaux, Founding Father of the Federation, presented the Truth, our highest and most righteous laws, to his followers, and began laying the groundwork for our nation. He used the religious doctrines to prevent people from stealing, becoming inebriated on illicit substances, pedaling flesh, and other wicked things. The doctrines of numerous enlightened individuals show us that it is wrong to hate or discriminate against those who are different from ourselves, and that peace lies in understanding and loving one another. The various political doctrines showed us that people have an equal right to exist, to happiness, be equally protected, and that no one person should have complete power.”

  “But the president’s the ruler of the Federation,” interrupted Angelina.

  “True,” agreed Daryl, “but there is a chain of command going president, state governor, state senator, county commissioner, mayor, and citizen. When presented this way the citizens are at the bottom of this chain, but in reality none of the entities above them can do anything without their permission.”

  “So we tell the president what to do?”

  “Exactly! But remember, it does not matter where you stand in society, what religion you practice, if any, or what state you live in. It does not even matter what color your skin is, your gender identity, or your sexual preference. The most important truths are that you are all human; you have the same color blood and are all citizens of the Federation. In these things you are all equal, and if you and your fellow humans remember and cherish this, you will never repeat the mistakes of your ancestors. Yours will be a world of continued peace and prosperity, a paradise made reality.”

  Daryl allowed his student to dwell on his words for a moment so she could fully digest their meaning.

  “Aren’t the rangers higher than everybody?” Angelina suddenly asked.

  A small smile played at Daryl’s lips, “The rangers are a special case, something we will discuss another day. You are now dismissed, my pupil, until tomorrow.”

  Angelina scrambled to her feet and shot off towards the Von Raben family’s formidably large ancestral manor house, enthusiastically voicing her joy as she went. Daryl was just climbing to his feet when a Lux-car coasted up the cobblestone driveway and came to a stop at the foot of the front walk. When Max and Caitlyn emerged from the vehicle, Daryl broke into a trot and went to them.

  “Daryl!” Caitlyn gushed as she threw her arms around the SIR upon his approach.

  “Caitlyn Floyd! What a pleasant surprise,” Daryl remarked with a smile as he returned the hug.

  “Is Father home?” Max asked the SIR.

  “The CEO said he wanted to see you and his two most senior generals when you arrived,” Daryl informed him as he and Caitlyn separated.

  “Sounds like fun,” Max remarked, his voice completely lacking enthusiasm.

  The trio had started up the walk when Max stopped and pulled Daryl aside. “Didja get it?!” he whispered excitedly.

  Daryl smiled, reached into the pocket of his dark gray slacks, and produced a small box covered in red velvet.

  Max snatched the box from the SIR, “You’re the best!”

  “Of course,” Daryl concurred as he and Max hurried to catch up to Caitlyn.

  The Von Raben manor house was a huge, three-storied Tudor style mansion covered in dark gray stucco and a gabled roof shingled in slate. The trio entered the house and was met in its large foyer by Frederic Von Raben’s two most senior VSF generals. One was Lieutenant-General Ronald West, a moderately handsome, thirty-five-year-old dark-haired, fair-skinned giant of a man whose towering height and muscular build made him decidedly intimidating despite his extremely friendly and jovial nature. The other was thirty-six-year-old General Michael Hartnett, the head of the VSF, and a reserved but charming man with lustrous chocolate-brown skin, a powerfully muscular frame, a pleasingly handsome face accented by a dazzling smile framed by a thin mustache and goatee, a clean pate, and piercing brown eyes. Michael was also the husband of Annaliesa Von Raben-Hartnett, Max’s older sister.

  “Well if it ain’t Little Kitty!” Ronald observed in his deep bass voice, using the pet name he had given Caitlyn due to her being from Cat.

  “Hello, boys!” Caitlyn greeted.

  “Hello, Little Kitty,” Ronald returned as he playfully socked her shoulder.

  “Kill anybody lately?” Michael put in with a teasing tone.

  “Still don’t like seeing me in freestyle kendo matches?” Caitlyn asked.

  “I just think a woman of your skill’d be better off in true combat duty,” Michael explained, continuing the traditional lighthearted exchange he shared with Caitlyn every time they shared company.

  “But kendo’s fun! Where’s the fun in killing for a living?!” Caitlyn countered.

  “Good question. Where’s the fun in that?” a deep, authoritative voice rang out.

  Everyone turned to find three newcomers coming down the grand staircase, the foot of which was located on the opposite side of the foyer. It was Frederic Von Raben, the Chairman and CEO of Veriform Holdings, the second largest and most profitable corporate entity in the Federation, his wife Nicolene Miller-Von Raben, and her manservant Ernesto Lavenza. Frederic was in his mid-sixties and had a weathered, but handsome, face, dark, calculating brown eyes, and a cleanly shaved pate. He had spent fifteen years as a professional kendoka, and his body was still a study in physical strength. Nicolene was in her early sixties and had long, silvery gray hair, a lovely, mildly wrinkled face, and large, expressive brown eyes. Even Ernesto, who was entering his fourth year as Nicolene’s manservant, was a good looking man of twenty-two with bronze skin, short black hair, and a chiseled continence and physique.

  Max and the generals snapped to attention and saluted Frederic. “At ease, gentlemen,” Frederic commanded, and the men entered parade rest.

  “Caitlyn, it’s so very wonderful to see you again!” Nicolene greeted gleefully as she hurried to embrace Caitlyn.

  Once the embrace was broken, Frederic stepped in and laid a hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder, “Congratulations on your victory this morning. You make us all very proud.”

  “Thank you,” Caitlyn returned, a warm feeling of pride radiating through her.

  “Caitlyn, the boys have to report to Frederic now, so why don’t you come with me to the parlor? Annaliesa and little Angelina are there, and I’ll have some refreshments brought in,” Nicolene offered.

  “Sounds fun,” Caitlyn said before turning to Max.

  “Be right back,” Max told her before planting a little kiss on the tip of her nose, coaxing a tiny giggle from the woman.

  Nicolene and Caitlyn left the foyer, Ernesto and Daryl in tow. Frederic looked to his underlings, all of them again standing at attention, and could not help but feel proud of their discipline. “I’d like you all to come to my office,” he requested as he turned and started out of the foyer.

  #

  A male news anchor reported:

  Our eyes now turn to the Snake city of Stronburg, where a vicious attack on a large textile warehouse has left two hundred dead. The facility, which was owned by Alexander Fulsom’s Liberty Enterprises corporation, was attacked just before dawn and saw Liberty Security Agency, or LSA, forces square off with what would later be identified as Veriform Security Force, or VSF, aggressors. Heavy casualties were suffered by both forces, and the warehouse itself was burnt to the ground. Alexander Fulsom, Chairman and CEO of Liberty, was quoted as saying the attack was another example of Frederic Von Raben’s low-handed co
wardice, and that the Liberty legal division would be seeking restitution. Frederic Von Raben countered by pointing out that one of his own financial holdings had been attacked by the LSA not six months prior to yesterday’s engagement. The bloody feud between the Von Raben and Fulsom families shows no signs of slowing down, despite the president’s repeated intervention–

  Frederic muted the news broadcast and turned to his VSF officers, all of whom were seated in Frederic’s private office. It was an opulent room decorated with numerous priceless military antiques, the centerpiece of which was Frederic’s large titanium desk, which had once belonged to an ancient general of some repute. One of the room’s walls was taken up a series of six sizable screen-clouds, each screen tuned to a different channel, and all of them now muted.

  “Max did very well as field commander, but it was a hard raid. Of the one hundred troopers we sent, only thirty-eight returned,” Michael informed the group.

  “That’s very sad news, but before we properly address it, I’d like to ask Maximilian a question,” Frederic said as he penned his son with an expectant stare, “Why’s Caitlyn here?”

  Max stood slowly, his salute half-hearted at best. He faced his father but could not bring himself to speak. Fredric could be a stern father at times, and this, combined with his reputation as an iron-hard business leader, served to reduce Max to his currently timid state.

  “When one of my men has the floor, I expect him to be speaking,” Frederic remarked, causing Max’s compatriots to snicker quietly.