Marco Domici: Uncle Guido

Lindzah sat down at the booth and propped Izhak up with her old jacket. He gurgled a little and she watched the pacifier jiggle up and down. She smiled has he slowly drifted off to whatever dreams little babies have. His curly blond hair was matted down from sweat, but he seemed to sleep well.

She herself looked a wreck. She was short and had the too thin look of someone who doesn't eat regularly. Her long hair was light brown and needed a brushing, at least. Not even twenty, but with a child and no one to help take care of them, life was expensive. Here, though, at this bar, the prices were good. "Guido's place", as everyone called it, was more of an extended living room than a pure drinking establishment. Sure, there was a bar, and you could get a variety of local and even some off-world beverages.

Still, Guido kept his place nice. The little bell over the door jingled whenever someone came or left. The booths were short enough to see over and often there was a wave and a greeting when a familiar face popped in. Neither the printed menu nor the options had changed in years. No one cared. There were a few other patrons in this early. Most, like Lindzah, had to shake the rain off their jackets. Most hung their's up but she needed to give Izhak a bed to sleep while she tried to figure out what to do.

Lindzah caught a few people looking at her. Mostly just curious. Some may have remembered her from two years ago. High school honor grad, cheerleader captain, and looking like life was just beginning. Now, life was different.

She looked at the curtained portal to where Guido sat. No one approached him unless bidden. Certainly she wasn't in a position to ask anything. A few men lounged near him and kept and quiet, if attentive watch. She could just catch a glimpse of Guido if she moved a little. Still, better not to stare. He knew she was here, it was up to him.

"Hey hon." A waitress said. She put a glass of water on the table. They still used napkins, even though the table had a plethora of moisture rings, dents, and scratches. "You expecting anyone else?" she asked quietly.

Lindah dipped her head and shook it once. "Thank you." She said quietly. "I used to come here a lot, before. This place brings back some good memories." She pulled out what credits she had. "Just some coffee, I guess. Do you have some hot water I can mix for his formula?"

"Sure, hon." She nodded. "Be right back."

The door bell jingled and woke Izhak up. His pacifier had fallen out while he slept and Lindzah gently replaced it as she cooed to soothe him. She felt his forehead, the fever seemed to have gone away. She didn't feel the laser shot as it cut through the back of her head.

Lindzah slumped forward, her forehead knocked the glass of water over. It splashed on Izhak and shocked him, bringing out a cry.

Tall black boots knocked hard on the wooden floor. Everyone was silent as the grey coated man walked up to Lindzah's body. Water dripped from his jacket and pooled around his boots. A trickle made it's way toward Lindzah's tattered loafer.

"Crimes against the state." The grey coated man said. He raised his pistol slowly, and fired again. "A colluder, no doubt."

He looked around the bar. "You should take care of who you associate with." His pistol slowly went away. "Have a good day, citizens." The door jingled as he left.

One woman moaned as she cringed into her rickety chair. A man got up and checked the bodies for signs of life. He looked at the bartender and shook his head slowly, then headed towards the back room.

Gothan walked slowly, but with strength. He looked all of his thirty or so years, perhaps a few extra. Naturally tanned skin, a full body of dark hair, and clothes that fit well without making him stand out in a crowd. Two of Guido's men came out to deal with the bodies. They gave him a sad nod as he walked past.

Gothan turned in to the bathroom and closed the door. He paused, knelt by the toilet, and emptied his stomach. Sobs and heaves wracked his muscled frame for several minutes.

Slowly, he stood. He washed his hands and tried his best to rinse out his mouth. A little cool water on his forehead helped him calm down, and then he quickly dried off.

Gothan finished, flushed, and went to the back room with Guido. Years of running a bar showed on him, the weight was obvious. Still, his suit was tailored and Guido himself kept a to a light diet these days. A little wine and cheese, and less pasta. More fruits, though seldom as many as the doctor ordered. The older man looked at Gothan sadly and nodded. "These are difficult times, my friend." He motioned to his private restroom. "Please, take a moment to refresh yourself."

Gothan nodded and stepped in. He again washed his hands and face, and checked his clothes in the full length mirror. Satisfied, he nodded, and waited.

A quiet hiss and the seal behind the mirror broke. It swung open and Gothan stepped through, into another restroom. An emancipated old man stepped forward and kissed Gothan on both cheeks.

"I am so sorry, nephew." He said, stepping back. "Though I cannot say it was unexpected."

Gothan nodded. "We warned her to stay away. No doubt there is a forged message from Karaval, begging her to return."

"No doubt." He pointed to a drawer. "Please, stomach acid is terrible on the teeth. There are spare toothbrushes and paste. Cleanse your palate and we can talk more in a minute."

Gothan finished up and joined the older man. While the wood of the table and floor was as old as the bar, few things were as new as the dozen monitors spaced around the room. Gothan had been trained in their use and his eye and quickly glanced around to catch up on the news. The screens seemed to float out of darkness, as they were almost the only light available. That, and the small lamp at the table. It's polished bass and green shade looked out of place with the screens glow.

"We have been the captains of our own fate, nephew." The old man began. He poured wine into two glasses and slid one forward. There was a small plate of cheese and grapes that both men partook of.

"Until now." He continued.

"Until now?" Gothan asked. "I know several things have happened in the past few days, uncle. Are they that serious? Or have I missed something?"

"Karaval was an attack on us. But a clumsy one." The old man motioned to the bar area. "They sent him to kill her, specifically."

"They knew who she was?"

"Undoubtedly. It was a test of his willingness to be bought, and his loyalty to them." He grimaced. "He seems loyal."

"Yes." Gothan replied, quietly. The mild wine barely calmed his stomach. He saw here there, again. He had seen her at that booth for several years; he had watched her grow up.

And die. With her son. Because they ordered it.

"What can we do?" Gothan asked. His anger started to quell the bile.

"It is not a matter of can, but should." The old man sipped his wine. "Their choice of attack was clumsy, but informative. They know less than we do, yet they do not realize how little we know."

Gothan averted his gaze from the monitor that replayed the scene in the bar. He knew it was going to several other families. His report would follow. Eventually.

The old man motioned to the platter. "We see food. One thing. Yet a grape would see itself totally apart from a block of cheese. Our family sees itself totally different from them, yet we are much the same." He motioned as if to push the platter off the table. "That is how someone sees us both; we are food yet they are not hungry. Thus we have no purpose."

"Who?" Gothan asked. "We know they used the music from our family. But you say it is not us?"

"Definitely not us." He motioned to the screens. "Mountain Men are on the move. The Path members are praying like never before and they are starting to whisper about an embodied super man who will save them all. Government forces have been wiped out at the division level and no one claims responsibility. Someone has, or at least had, a nuclear device. Was it a ship, or a bomb that just went awry?"

"We do not know who it is." He continued. "Thus we are forced to guess. However, they do not yet know that we do not know, and seek to weaken us. Humorous. Dark humor, yes. But still..."

"You said we are no longer captains of our own fate. That worries me." Gothan said, eying a grape. "All we have worked for will be lost?"

"It depends on who they are." The old man shrugged. "Yet perhaps it is time, really." He pointed at the platter. "Really, our two family branches have fought for over a hundred years. Our squabbles are petty, truth be told. There is a part of me that wants vengence." He motioned to the bar. "I doubt that part will go away soon. Yet I wonder; if we seek what is coming while they stick with what was, will that sate my lust for their blood? Will I outlive them?"

Gothan finished his wine. "And I am to find out?"

The old man nodded. "We have intercepted signals that speak of imminent action." He stood and went to a screen. "Here, in this area. Our contacts with the Mountain Men say one of their own is leading a strike. No idea for what." He tapped the screen and several colors shifted. "Interestingly, some members of the Path, and their fanatic Guide militia, are coalescing in the same geographic location. Semi-reliable news feeds are coming out as well."

"Semi-reliable?" Gothan asked. "That is, not government?"

"Definitely not the government." The colors shifted again. "They are monitoring this area, and this one. Lots of drone activity but not a lot of troop movement yet."

"Ah." Gothan nodded. "They don't know either." He remembered the puddled water at the table. "That pleases me to no end."

"It pleases me as well. Other anti-government forces are targeting the troop concentrations. We have seen requests for beefed up COACC maintenance that is not happening, for some reason. Orders and counter orders are being issued. The off-planet advisors are being referred to as both stalwart defenders and potential coup masters."

"And they think it is us!" Gothan chuckled. "I wish we had such resources! Such influence!"

"As do I, nephew, as do I." The old man sat back down, tired. "In a year our world will be vastly different. Not only does my information suggest it, but I feel it in my heart."

He looked at his wine, and rolled the glass slowly. "I regret many things, Gothan. Even some of the victories we have had will seem shallow, if I am right."

"You have served the family well, and long, Uncle." Gothan said firmly. "We have survived because of you." He smiled. "I have grown up admiring you all my life, Uncle! Many of us have."

"Yes, you used to run around here and ask all sorts of questions. I could never seem to give you enough answers before you were off with more questions." He patted Gothan's hand. "Your parents would have been proud of you, Gothan. Just as proud as I have been."

"Thank you...been? Sir? Are you okay?" Gothan's tone shifted immediately. "Is it your heart again?"

"My heart is strong, Gothan. And proud. Here, I have something for you." He went to a drawer and pulled out an ancient wooden box. "Our world is changing, Gothan, and we must change with it." He set the box on the table and pushed it forward. "I pass this on to you, Uncle. I trust you to lead our family well. Seek out this event, understand it, and use it to help us grow."

Gothan paled, but slowly opened the box. The glitter of a entwined dragon caught his eye, as did its eyes. They seemed to watch him.

"I...I..."

"Join me." The old man levered open the door Gothan had entered. They went out to Guido's chamber, together.

As Gothan stepped forward slowly, Guido caught the old man's nod. Heaving up his massive frame, Guido came around the table to face Gothan. Kneeling, slowly, Guido bowed his head. "Uncle." He said clearly. Gothan rested his hand on Guido's shoulder, and then helped the heavy man stand.

Each of the guards repeated the salute. People from the bar area, tears in their eyes, came and did the same. For the first time in a long time, Guido's chamber was full. The old man had disappeared back into his lair. Into Gothan's lair, when he chose to claim it.

"Family." Gothan looked around. "I am insufficient. Yet I will serve." The ancient oath gave him strength. "Trouble lies ahead, as does success. I must go and seek the truth." They nodded. "We will thrive and survive."

Each person in turn hugged Gothan, and the crowd seemed to grow as he gave each person a blessing and received their pledge of support.

Later that night, much later, Gothan's transport pulled up. "I never knew we had such things." He said to the driver."

The driver smiled. "There's more than meets the eye, Uncle. Still, strap in. It's a long drive and you probably need some sleep."

"Wait." Gothan said quietly. "A side trip first." He gave the directions.

"I know the place, sir. Certainly." Within a few minutes they were there, and Gothan went out into the rain alone. For several minutes he stood, getting drenched, and just looking at the stone marker.

"Time to go." He said, getting back into the vehicle. "Wake me when we are a couple hours out. I need to look my best for whatever this is."