Ingenious #1

Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

A swarm of underground wasps, angry at having their nest disturbed, herded the soldiers like goats into the far left corner of the site. The men huddled in a circle, faces lumpy from stings. Any movement from them spurred a dive at their heads.

Quiggs heard colorful curses as wasps found their way to the hut and dived at his two guards. Served them right for teasing his puffy mouth when he’d returned this morning.

He stuck his head out the window and shouted at his guards to jump under the shower. Wasps hated water. It dragged their wings. He heard buzzing approaching and slammed the shutter closed. Wings batted the slats, seeking entry. He’d search for dead ones later and dissect the nasty bastards. Insect venom often led to a new weapon or medicine.

Meanwhile, it was a good morning to stay inside and design living quarters for the young men signing up to farm hundred-acre plots. He spread out a stack of slates. Max had applied a numbing ointment and rewrapped his hands in a thinner bandage. He shook off a sigh, remembering Max’s light kiss on each palm when finished .

Gripping a marker with his fingertips, Quiggs tackled the problem of plumbing. He could easily pipe in water from tall collection tanks filled from the irrigation taps, but waste disposal posed a problem. Stepping into the vines was risky from all the pests stirred up. Primitive outhouses would have to serve.

His mind strayed from housing toward sources of income to lure residents. The men could dig ponds and stock them with fat whiskered fish from the aquarium in Port Lourdes. Fresh fish brought premium trading prices in the cities. In three years, revenues would pay off debts and lift the inhabitants of the farming communities from self-sustainable to comfortably prosperous. Community housing would change to single farmhouses as prosperity attracted wives.

When children arrived, they would enroll in day schools instead of academies. Parents could enjoy raising their children at home until they turned twelve. What an irresistible lure for a young woman, keeping her sons beyond the age of seven. He still remembered his mother’s tears when she enrolled him in the Academy and the muted sobs of young cadets in their bunks during their early years.

Out with the old laws, in with the new. More freedom for men. More freedom for women too. The new laws wouldn’t force a woman to bear four children in order to have a voice in the new government.

With women forming a small percentage of the population, allowing a wife three husbands remained necessary to maintain the peace. Until the birth rate for daughters increased, wedlock would continue. Quiggs would use his seat in the Assembly to get rid of mandatory braids for virgins as well as the stupid uniforms, facial hair, and haircuts required to identify a man’s station.

A sex clinic would continue to play an important role in a student’s education.

Warm fuzzy bubbles surfaced as Quiggs remembered Max falling all over him in the cabin yesterday. Max had acted like a cadet in the sex clinic with the clock ticking down ten minutes. Though Quiggs was woefully inexperienced, he sensed a bond with Max, lifting sex beyond basic gratification. Last night was fun, wonderful, emotional. It wasn’t about releasing tensions like the clinic taught. It was about filling the cold hollow of your being with warm, loving feelings.

Why couldn’t Max admit having tender feelings when it was evident in his eyes, his touch, his tone, his concern for Quiggs’s safety?

Quiggs found himself drawing a pair of lovey hearts on a slate. He added eyes, arms, legs, genitalia. The bigger heart sported a muscled ring around the middle of its hefty cock.

Four raps on the door announced a guard. Quiggs turned the slate over. “Come in.”

Dean Cagney stepped inside. His flowing black robe was wrinkled with damp patches under the arms, and the square white collar hung loose as if he’d paddled a line of naughty inactives. Sunlight caught the stubble on his pate. His dark eyes, bloodshot from a sleepless night, swept the cluttered room before fixing on Quiggs’s panicked face. As if a cadet again, Quiggs jumped to his feet with his hands clasped behind his back, patting around to straighten his braid.

The dean’s resonant voice sounded exhausted. “Relax, Quiggs. I’m on your side.”

Quiggs sheepishly dropped his hands to his sides. He noted new gray sprinkling the dean’s brown beard. With Quiggs gone, there should have been less stress. “How did you know I was hiding here? Everyone took an oath of silence.”

“President Brooke of the Herders Guild brought me here. I told him I knew you were alive, and it was urgent we talk. He signaled the watchtower I have permission to visit the site.”

Quiggs had a backpack ready and canteens filled if the dean came to warn him a team of executioners were on its way. “What gave me away?”

“I’ve known Commander Max Bronn since he was a cocky first year. He doesn’t accept defeat. Never did in the Academy. Or battling ferals.” The dean’s lips twisted in a stern smile. “Max would never have abandoned you in the vines. He’d have died searching for you. Congratulations on killing the vines, by the way. Always thought you’d be the one.”

“Beau taught me how to milk. Otherwise…” His voice choked up.

“I’m sorry about Beau.” The dean’s bushy brows pulled together as he got to the point. “Governor Lyre and her Outland Committee will arrive this afternoon with armed police to take possession of this site.”

Quiggs chuckled evilly. “Let her try. A prime law gives the commander absolute authority to punish all trespassers. The soldiers will incapacitate the police and hold the women hostage.”

“The Assembly has found a way around that prime law. This morning the Ruling Mothers are voting to retire Max’s title and to divide his command among three generals. The generals are ex-military, their experience limited to three years of serving Max’s uncle.”

Quiggs gawked a minute before exploding. “The Assembly can’t rewrite a prime law. It violates their insistence that changing a law—even a minor one—paves the way for rebellion.”

“Retiring the commander doesn’t break a law. It’s a convoluted amendment giving the Assembly the authority to annex the outland to the Triangle. The Ruling Mothers win control over every speck of land from the canal to the farthest reaches. They plan to auction large tracts of land to women with the proceeds going into the Treasury. Men are excluded from the bidding. The wives of the three generals, coincidentally, are affluent members of the Outland Committee overseeing the auction.” The dean paused to let his words soak in. “The military will execute all protestors.”

Quiggs couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His legs shaky, he sat down as his beautiful future collapsed like a hot air balloon from a ripped seam. “How do you know about this vote?”

“My younger sister is a Ruling Mother with four sons interested in farming. After the Assembly closed its doors to the public yesterday to deliberate your exile, the governor convinced the majority to seize control of the outland by retiring the commander. The governor and the Judicial Council have spent days plotting a legal annexation instead of reviewing Max’s request for your exile. When he returns to Port Memphis, he’ll find himself stripped of his title, his barge confiscated, his men bound by law to obey the new generals.”

Quiggs’s gut clenched. “Max won’t start a second rebellion by fighting for his title.”

The dean’s booming voice softened. “His title, no. For you, yes. He’ll fight if he returns to find you have surrendered yourself to the Assembly this morning.”

Quiggs lifted his brows in surprise at the suggestion. “The governor will halt the session and order me bound and gagged for immediate execution. There’s no way Max can arrive in time to rescue me.”

The dean watched him with a strange stillness.

Then Quiggs understood. His surrender would disrupt the Assembly’s session another day. A delayed vote gave President Brooke and Dean Cagney time to warn the people of the Commander’s forced retirement and the exclusion of men from purchasing land.

Quiggs’s public execution would infuriate citizens who believed he deserved exile. Max might accept the loss of his title, but he would never accept losing Quiggs. Claws displayed, he would storm the next session of the Assembly seeking revenge. His title intact, he’d have the full support of the military, herders, and citizens filling the aisles and blocking the exits. It wouldn’t be a rebellion—it would be a skirmish, contained inside the walls of the auditorium with the Ruling Mothers held hostage until they agreed to rewrite their laws.

All events triggered by Quiggs’s execution.

It was what it was. No point in grieving for what might have been.

Quiggs gripped the edge of the table hard a few seconds, ignoring the pain in his palms before he picked up a clean slate and began writing, My dearest Max…

He was pale and dry-eyed when he finished. He fastened his helmet and tightened his weapons belt. He looked at the dean whose eyes were suspiciously moist.

“Let’s do this.”