Read Online REHO: A Science Fiction Thriller (The Hegemon Wars) by D. L. Denham - Free Book Online
Authors: D. L. Denham
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beneath his feet. A cool breeze caressed him, flinging his hair across his face. He took deep breaths of cool ocean air; he could taste the salt as the sun set on another day. The picturesque view energized his mind and body, promising him a new start on the other side of the world. Behind him, smoke and ash clouded the city’s sky.
Gibson had said little about Darksteam, only that it was man’s attempt to rebuild and outdo the Hegemon. It was colossal, and crude, and—most notably—loud. Reho had seen their engineering once when he was in Ascension, a community near OldWorld Orleans with close access to both the open ocean through the gulf and the Great River pouring through Usona from the Great Lakes. A different breed of traffickers passed those areas. He’d watched as a slow-moving ship sent billows of smoke into the air. He’d heard it approaching long before he saw it: the whoosh of pressure releasing as smoke shot into the air; the heavy, grinding labor of metal gears spinning, as propellers worked beneath the water. Reho had inquired about the vessel from a vendor selling jerked beef near the river. “They just appear sometimes,” he’d explained. “They always head up da’ river otta da’ gulf.” Reho never thought much about the monstrous steamboats. They came to Usona in small numbers. But what was in the north for them? Now, he saw an entire city resembling those steamships.
Everyone was to meet out in front of the boat before sunset. Whatever they were to wait for was supposed to happen then. Ends had referred to it simply as the surprise. Reho wanted to press the issue, but no one was going to say anything because no one knew, except Ends and maybe Sola. They trusted Ends, never questioning his decisions. Instead, they did what he said, and they had done so for years.
Reho recalled what little Gibson had said about Darksteam. It had been known in the Old World as Freetown, a colony populated at one time by freed slaves from OldWorld America. Reho couldn’t imagine a world with slavery. In Usona, living might have been hard, but everyone was his own person. In New Afrika, communities might war, but Gibson had explained that none enslaved the others. Those OldWorld mistakes had died with the Blast.
Now it was Darksteam that seemed unreal, reminding him how far away he was from home. A bright sun shined, but the town was cast in shadow. In the distance, three gargantuan towers bellowed smoke clouds into the sky, covering the town in grey ash. At the base of the towers was a building that housed the coal plant that furnished steam to the town.
“Reho!” Gibson jogged over to him. “It’s probably better if we go into town together. Sola nearly smashed my face when I told her you left alone.” He rubbed the side of his face playfully.
He glanced back toward the boat. “She thinks I won’t come back.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“So, what exactly is here?” They made their way into town.
“I’ve been here before, several times, actually,” Gibson said. “This is the closest port in New Afrika to reach Usona. Darksteam connects to Iron Ganda farther south and the Kingdom of Jaro to the East. It’s easier to experience these places than to try and explain them. They each have their own peculiarities.”
The breeze continued to blow off the ocean, traveling through the streets, lifting the ash off the parked vehicles and roadway, sending a flurry ahead of them. The buildings were made from the same metals used to make the steamships: iron, copper, and steel. Mega sheets of various metals wrapped the steel structures in the town. OldWorld materials and newly-forged metals gave the town the appearance of a quilt that, after many generations, contained thousands of interwoven patches. Cast iron pipes ran through the town, attached to the buildings’ outer walls. Everything converged into one color: bronze.
The breeze and beauty of the ocean was a
Gibson had said little about Darksteam, only that it was man’s attempt to rebuild and outdo the Hegemon. It was colossal, and crude, and—most notably—loud. Reho had seen their engineering once when he was in Ascension, a community near OldWorld Orleans with close access to both the open ocean through the gulf and the Great River pouring through Usona from the Great Lakes. A different breed of traffickers passed those areas. He’d watched as a slow-moving ship sent billows of smoke into the air. He’d heard it approaching long before he saw it: the whoosh of pressure releasing as smoke shot into the air; the heavy, grinding labor of metal gears spinning, as propellers worked beneath the water. Reho had inquired about the vessel from a vendor selling jerked beef near the river. “They just appear sometimes,” he’d explained. “They always head up da’ river otta da’ gulf.” Reho never thought much about the monstrous steamboats. They came to Usona in small numbers. But what was in the north for them? Now, he saw an entire city resembling those steamships.
Everyone was to meet out in front of the boat before sunset. Whatever they were to wait for was supposed to happen then. Ends had referred to it simply as the surprise. Reho wanted to press the issue, but no one was going to say anything because no one knew, except Ends and maybe Sola. They trusted Ends, never questioning his decisions. Instead, they did what he said, and they had done so for years.
Reho recalled what little Gibson had said about Darksteam. It had been known in the Old World as Freetown, a colony populated at one time by freed slaves from OldWorld America. Reho couldn’t imagine a world with slavery. In Usona, living might have been hard, but everyone was his own person. In New Afrika, communities might war, but Gibson had explained that none enslaved the others. Those OldWorld mistakes had died with the Blast.
Now it was Darksteam that seemed unreal, reminding him how far away he was from home. A bright sun shined, but the town was cast in shadow. In the distance, three gargantuan towers bellowed smoke clouds into the sky, covering the town in grey ash. At the base of the towers was a building that housed the coal plant that furnished steam to the town.
“Reho!” Gibson jogged over to him. “It’s probably better if we go into town together. Sola nearly smashed my face when I told her you left alone.” He rubbed the side of his face playfully.
He glanced back toward the boat. “She thinks I won’t come back.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“So, what exactly is here?” They made their way into town.
“I’ve been here before, several times, actually,” Gibson said. “This is the closest port in New Afrika to reach Usona. Darksteam connects to Iron Ganda farther south and the Kingdom of Jaro to the East. It’s easier to experience these places than to try and explain them. They each have their own peculiarities.”
The breeze continued to blow off the ocean, traveling through the streets, lifting the ash off the parked vehicles and roadway, sending a flurry ahead of them. The buildings were made from the same metals used to make the steamships: iron, copper, and steel. Mega sheets of various metals wrapped the steel structures in the town. OldWorld materials and newly-forged metals gave the town the appearance of a quilt that, after many generations, contained thousands of interwoven patches. Cast iron pipes ran through the town, attached to the buildings’ outer walls. Everything converged into one color: bronze.
The breeze and beauty of the ocean was a
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