A Glass of Brandy

The remaining duration of the council session was far less dramatic than how it was founded. Nameless took his seat and remained seated unless called upon. Better to let the Guild masters and Captains argue over logistics and jurisdictions. Every now and again, some ambitious Lieutenant would try and nuzzle how the parties should divvy up the spoils. Nameless crushed that immediately, gently reminding them in his own way that they had to win the war before such talk.

While gargantuan in size regarding manpower, logistics, and organization, the plan itself was relatively simple. Gather as many fighters as possible from the local sector, aided by the other sectors with what people and material they could spare, and begin an outright campaign. They would burn a pathway into the industry's heartland until they reached the big city. There, they would get Professor Zion off-world with the vial, the Vagabonds would get paid, and the parties would stomp out any corporate resistance with the assistance of the fleet.

Backup plans were, of course, made if Earth didn't like how fiercely independent New Mars would be, but that is simply part of the job as a strategist. Make a plan, have the project fail, make a new plan. Rinse and repeat.

The issue itself wasn't the fleet of world-shattering spaceships looming over their heads. It was that they were outgunned and outproduced in quality. Most rebels were armed with hand-me-down clothes and weapons. The distinct difference in military power and assets between the corporations and this rebel army was jaw-dropping.

Nameless 's sector was burgeoning with technology and combat experience. The Russian sectors still had military bunkers full of armor and artillery from the old war. The Chinese sectors had more than enough manpower, with a deeply ingrained sense of identity and societal come-togetherness.

All these assets paled in comparison to the big city, with their vectors and agents. Not to mention, the cryptic overlord that ruled Mars with an iron fist. Auntie Mai and Commander Anatolievich recounted horror stories about how effortlessly this mysterious man outmaneuvered and fought them.

The army of vectors, the mimic serum, agents like Florence, and undoubtedly Mr. Eyes. While each sector fought the capitol on their turf, Mr. Eyes was fighting a nearly six-sided war and evidently was winning until now.

Nameless held a looming sense of doom that he and Mr. Eyes could face off before all of this was finished. Was he the man that Nameless saw in the dream? Judging from the stories, this despot enjoyed a front-row seat of the action. The bounty hunter fished delicately for any information on some kind of prominent woman, but no one had even heard of a powerful woman with a likening for obsidian.

By evening, the details had been ironed out. The requisition orders being typed up by scribe spiders, the orders sent out to commanders across the planet. The leaders formed a toast, celebrating the first meeting of the Council of Mars. While they were off drinking, scribe spiders would be hard at work, writing and establishing the new constitution of Mars.

While this was very exciting, Nameless felt relief when the meeting was adjourned. He hurried off to find Professor Zion, who had been escorted away after his panic attack. Nameless searched the intelligence hallway; none had seen him. He left the hallway, entered the courtyard, asking around. A person informed him that the Professor had been taken over to the medical forge.

Worry filled Nameless as he hurried back to the medical room he had awoken in the other day. He had been too hard on the old man, or maybe it would have been better if Nameless had done the briefing while the Professor supervised? He hadn't meant to be mean or override him; he would have been content letting Professor Zion handle the council.

Nameless walked to the doors of the medical forge, his heart beating fast. Aj, Carla, and Spider stood with him. Hera and Julia hadn’t left the Professor's side after escorting him back for medical care.

“I wasn't too harsh with him, was I?” Nameless asked remorsefully.

“Nah, but I do think we can all collectively admit, we did give the poor fucker a panic attack,” Aj sighed.

“I feel so bad,” Carla whined.

“H-h-he knew-knew w-w-w-what he-he was getting h-h-himself into,” Spider said solemnly.

Nameless shook his head as he looked at them, “I don't think he did, honestly.”

They nodded silently.

Nameless exhaled deeply, then swung the door inward, walking inside as his friends followed one-by-one. Inside, the Professor lay on a medical bed. Julia sat on a stool reading a book next to him. Hera was on the medical instrument storage bin, cleaning her nails with a knife per usual. The two looked up when the other vagabonds entered.

The Professor had an ice pack laid over his forehead, an I.V. in his left arm, his heart monitored by a machine in the wall. Guilt tore at Nameless as he took in the sight of the Professor.

Professor Zion's eyes fluttered open as they entered. He didn't show any emotion, simply nudging Julia with the tip of his finger.

“Leave us, please,” the Professor said softly to Julia.

Julia grasped his hand gently.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

The old man nodded.

Julia closed her book and gestured to Hera. Hera’s eyes borrowed into Nameless, her scowl deepening, her forehead creasing as she bawled her fists. Hera helped Julia lead the other vagabonds out of the room. It was just Nameless and the Professor now, the heartbeat machine softly beeping as they left.

Nameless stood there, feeling as if his body was encased in ice. He had faced Vectors, bandits, thieves, rapists, murderers, slavers, mutants, and traitors. Yet here, at this moment, he would have rather faced all of those with just a dull knife, then being eyed down by the Professor.

The Professor didn't say a word, allowing the moment to drown Nameless.

Nameless finally cracked open his lips. “I'm so sorry.”

The Professor held up his hand, cutting him off. Professor Zion breathed deeply, his heartbeat slowly ringing out from the machine in the wall.

“I'm proud of you,” Professor Zion said.

“Huh?” Nameless asked, startled.

“I'm proud of you,” the Professor said again.

“I-I don't understand,” Nameless choked.

“Did you really think my plan was to lead these savages to the ‘big city?’” Zion asked in the same tone as a teacher reprimanding a student.

“Okay, I really don't understand.”

The Professor sat up in the medical bed, ripped out the IV chuckleing, and hopped out of bed. He reached down, touched his toes, and swung his arms like a windmill, stretching. He leaned backward, popping his back, and groaning.

“The fuck is going on here?” Nameless asked, shocked.

“What's happening here is you're finally acting like the leader you were born to be,” Zion said matter-of-factly as he stood upright.

Nameless took a big step back. “You-you had a—I saw it damnit! The fuck, what the hell are you, some kind of wizard?” Nameless asked, beyond shocked.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Sure. If that term makes you sleep better at night, I am a wizard. At least to you,” Zion said nonchalantly as he twisted his torso to the left and right, stretching his back.

“I saw you collapse!”

“Mhm.”

“You collapsed! You fell down! I had to get up … because of … you,” Nameless finished softly.

A twinkle gleamed in the Professor's eye as anger rose in Nameless 's chest.

“You bastard,” Nameless seethed loudly.

“Shush!” Zion whispered. “You'll ruin the fun!” He giggled.

“You played me!” Nameless seethed angrily, yet quietly.

“That is correct,” Zion teased as he grinned. “And now Mars has the leader it needs to defeat the great big and evil Mr. Eyes,” Zion waved his hands sarcastically as he emphasized Mr. Eyes.

“Explain,” Nameless whispered angrily.

Zion shrugged as he walked over to the medical storage unit. He popped open a secret compartment and produced a bottle of fine Earth brandy, and the cleanest glass Nameless had ever seen. Zion reached inside and produced two ice cubes, of all things, and plopped them into the glass. He then doused them in the fine Brandy. Zion took a sip, smacked his lips, and sighed.

“Forgive me, a small indulgence. I actually enjoy your fine ‘Mars shine,’ but you must allow an old man his particular tastes. Would you like a drink, master Nameless?” Zion asked curiously.

Nameless slowly nodded, his mouth agape.

Zion smiled and, sure enough, produced another glass and two more ice cubes to boot. Zion filled this glass with the Brandy and handed it to Nameless. The young Bounty Hunter held the drink suspiciously. The old man chuckled.

“Please, if I was going to poison you, it would have happened quite a time ago,” Zion teased.

Nameless sighed and took the drink. To his delight, the brandy went down like butter, warming his stomach.

“What the—?”

“Scottish, 2282 to be exact. Only ninety years old!” Zion beamed. He leaned unto the medical bed.

“Now, we have our drinks, and I shall answer your questions. I am sure you have many,” Zion smiled.

“Um, yeah. The hell is all of this? Where did this come from? How did you do that?” Nameless asked angrily, storming over to the medical storage unit. As he got within view, he couldn't find the hidden compartment. Nameless banged and shook the container angrily. Then he turned to the Professor, who was smiling mischievously.

“The truth,” Nameless demanded. “Right now.”

Zion held up his hands defensively with a smug look.

“The truth is, well frankly, mind-blowing to someone like you. Suffice it to say, yes, you and your friends are indeed correct within your suspicions of Earth. They did, in fact, send me here to erect a puppet state so all those stuffy politicians and generals and admirals can have their lush estates on the Martian heights while you barbarians mine ore for their electronics,” Zion said. “Luckily for you, I do not serve Earth, nor any planet or organization in our solar system for that matter. I serve the Institution.”

“The hell is this institution?” Nameless asked angrily.

Zion sighed. “Has everything I have told you just soared over that thick skull of yours?” Zion asked, his head chocked, his drink swirling in his hand.

“Clearly,” Nameless said bitterly.

Zion sighed. “I was there,” he said slowly. His voice now pained, devoid of the comical superiority he enjoyed a moment ago.

“Was where?” Nameless asked.

“I was but a young pupil; we like to call them acolytes in my realm of work. I was actually just about your age when I administered the first dosage of XM-801 into the arm of your dear old namesake, the ‘Nameless God.’

“Good chap, a good assassin, and the best marksmen I have ever seen. His name was Mark, by the way. An American Marine of all things, down on his luck. He volunteered for the program; you see.”

Nameless dropped his drink, shattering it on the floor. His knees buckled; his heart pounded. He slowly backed away from the Professor.

“Oh please, my dear boy, you have suffered so much and faced too many to be scared of an old man,” Zion cackled.

“H-h-how?” Nameless stuttered.

“You two are damn near identical,” Zion said wistfully, swirling the ice cubes in his glass loudly as he tongued the inside of his lip.

“You're h-hundreds of years old?” Nameless gasped breathlessly.

Zion pondered the question as he sipped his drink, swishing brandy in his mouth. He swallowed, then looked at his watch.

“In this dimension? Sure,” Zion shrugged.

“In this dimension? The fuck do you mean, ‘in this dimension,’ how, how?” Nameless sputtered off as the Professor mimicked the words with his mouth, predicting what Nameless would say.

Zion smiled. “I did volunteer for this mission. But not for Earth or your futile sense of individuality as a bunch of radiation sickness survivors. I am here to correct what my idiotic superiors—how would you say?—Fucked up,” Zion grimaced.

“So, you people are to blame for all of this?” Nameless spat hotly.

Zion choked on his drink, thumping his chest with his fist as he sputtered. “Do-do not ever, ever confuse my peers or me with the fate of this accursed rock!” Zion choked angrily.

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“To bloody well help you! To kill my vindictive ex-peer!” Zion said hotly, his eyes red with anger.

The two stood in silence.

“Mr. Eyes is the warlord who took the first dose,” Nameless realized.

Zion nodded solemnly. “It was a terrible, thoughtless, cruel mistake on behalf of the institution to let that philistine anywhere even near the XM-801,” Zion whispered angrily.

“Didn't the thirteen-take care of him?” Nameless asked hotly.

“We thought they did. That is what they told us, after all. Serves us well for giving children fire and expecting them not to set the forest ablaze,” Zion said regrettably. “Besides, like I said, I was an intern, a student! I had zero authority over the situation.”

“And now here you are, picking up the pieces.” Nameless sighed.

Zion pointed the finger at Nameless from the hand that the old man drank from, gulping down the last drops of brandy.

“So, what, I'm supposed to kill Mr. Eyes, restore order, give you the dose so you can lock it up somewhere?” Nameless asked hotly.

“Precisely,” Zion grinned.

Nameless shook his head. “What do I call this, Institution?” Nameless asked suspiciously.

“Zion,” Professor Zion smiled.

“Bullshit.”

“Young man, do you really think my name is actually Professor Zion?”

“Up until now, I figured you were just a dumbass Earther who talked too much.”

“Excellent! Then I haven't lost my touch after all!” Zion laughed. “I truly am a professor, though. And I must say, thus far, you have been one of my more exceptional students. Keep it up!”

“Fuck you,” Nameless spat.

“Now there's that Martian fire I have so missed!” Zion giggled. “You must understand how refreshing it is to finally mentor something with some damnable backbone!”

“Don't you mean someone?” Nameless asked.

Zion made an odd face. “Sure,” he said quickly.

“Gods,” Nameless shook his head.

“Oh please, cease with that prattle; they can't hear you.”

“Don't!” Nameless growled, pointing at Zion.

“Don't what?” Zion asked indignantly.

“Don't mess with anything else I know today,” Nameless retorted.

Zion sighed. “That bandage has to rip off some day, especially with the trajectory you are on.”

“I said don't!” Nameless spat angrily.

Zion held his hands up defensively.

Nameless shook his head. “You're dangerous.”

Zion looked at Nameless, truly studying him.

“I am nothing compared to what you can become,” the old man said wistfully. “At any rate, I am simply a purveyor of cheap tricks and illusions. A manipulator, a scholar, a humble magician. Sorcerers, they used to call us.”

Nameless cocked his head, racking his brain for the legends and books Julia used to read to him.

“You're like Merlin!” Nameless laughed.

Zion joined in, belly laughing. “If-if I am Merlin,” Zion laughed, wiping a tear from his eye, “then you are most certainly King Arthur. That being said, let's keep this our little secret, at least until Mr. Eyes is dead.”

Nameless nodded. No point telling the others; they wouldn't believe him anyway. A thought did cross his mind, though. “Why can't you just take the vial now? Aren't you a wizard? Zip it away and lock it up so we can deal with these assholes on even ground.”

“Exactly what part of cheap tricks and illusions don't you understand. Manipulation of senses and will is one thing. Zipping materials off-world, lightyears away, that is an entirely different plane—let alone level of mastery.”

“Mastery. You said mastery, not impossible,” Nameless said slowly.

“Yes, yes, I did.” Zion sighed.

“So, you're like a level five wizard, sent to fix the mistakes of like, level twenty, thirty wizards?” Nameless asked suspiciously.

Zion clapped his hands. “Now he gets it!”

Nameless shook his head. “All of this is making my head spin.”

“Most humans vomit at this point,” Zion shrugged.

Nameless looked at him, very, very cautiously. “Humans?”

“Yes, humans.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, for Christ's sake, Nameless fine, yes, by ‘your’ definition, I'm not human. You're just an embryo by mine, and I am a toddler. Either way, we are distinctly different and similar, bound together on a far-flung trajectory through time and space. Forced together by that vial,” Zion said nonchalantly as if he was explaining two plus two to a small child.

“So, kill Mr. Eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Give you the vial for safekeeping.”

“Correct.”

“You fuck off, and we get paid, and live out the rest of our lives in peace?”

The Professor didn't answer immediately, a gleaming sparkle in his eye as he grinned. “If that is what you wish for your remaining existence,” Zion said slowly, his eyes sparkling.

The two stood in silence.

Suddenly, a loud banging could be heard on the door. “Professor? Professor Zion? Nameless? You guys okay? We can't hear anything from out here!” Julia's worried and muffled voice sounded through the door.

Zion immediately reshuffled his posture. “Yes!” Professor Zion said in the old, disheveled, timid pitch Nameless was used to. “We are fine, my dear, thank you.” He winked at Nameless.

“More tricks?” Nameless asked.

“Oh please, did you really think I would reveal so much without a modicum of privacy?” Zion asked innocently.

“I'm just glad you're on our side.” Nameless sighed.

“Indeed, or else Eyes would have killed you all weeks ago,” Zion chuckled as he leaned on the bed in his new calm posture.

Nameless looked at him indignantly.

“Oh wait, no, I am truly sorry. What I meant to say that I am so glad to help you all. Thank you for rescuing me from that deep, dark, damp cell. Oh, so brave and righteous warrior! Whatever would I do without you, young man?” Zion said in a singsong tone.

Nameless lightly struck Zion on the shoulder, making him lose his balance onto the bed.

“Watch out, Merlin. C'mon, we gotta planet to save,” Nameless laughed.

“That we do, my boy, that we do,” Zion laughed. “For what it's worth, I am glad you came down there to rescue me.”

“Yeah, but how many other mercenary groups came by to ‘rescue’ you before you decided we were the ones?” Nameless challenged joyfully.

Zion sputtered with a little too much laughter. “Now that is a question you do not want to know the answer to.”