Myst and Ink, Book 1

by HD Smith

  Susan9 added. “And it’s the reason House Cortez needs her back. They will lose their patent if they can’t prove it works.”

  The spells morphed and swirled on her skin, then wrapped around her wrists.

  Opening her eyes, she cupped her hands over the construct’s hands. A red glow formed as the spell work and glyphs flowed from Gen’s arms over the back of her hands and down to her palms, where I assumed they somehow passed to the construct.

  Shimmering transparent glyphs formed on Susan9’s skin, crawling up her arms and covering her skin. As the final piece of the spell left Gen’s hands, the glow from her palms stopped. The glyphs sank into the construct’s outer layer; then a blue spark left Gen’s hands to ignite the spellwork, which pulsed a fiery red, then disappeared.

  Susan9 sighed with relief. Raising her hand, she looked at it, a sense of awe on her face.

  “I can feel my skin now,” Susan9 said. “I feel whole. I feel real.”

  My eyebrows drew together before I could contain my concerned expression. Dexter noticed. He raised one of his eyebrows in agreement. Susan9’s existence was going to be a problem, but we’d all agreed to protect the secret and each other.

  If this technology was what Harko Royale had meant to create, what did that mean? Had Dalton and the others been looking for a way to subvert the natural order, or did they just want to live forever?

  Dexter flipped his thumb toward Susan9. “She’s not our only problem.”

  In his usual style, Dexter gave me a dump of information to bring me up to speed.

  He reiterated that Wyatt had been in the apartment and had seen Gen use the JumpNav tech.

  “Also, after the jumpstart for Susan9’s body, Gen resumed pulling large quantities of myst from the air, but as it did before, it’s leveling out again.”

  “I feel fine now,” Gen said, “but right after, I could sense that I was drained and needed more juice.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “Any other concern about Wyatt?”

  “He made note of Gen’s hair and eyes,” Dexter said.

  “He made more than one remark about my appearance,” Gen said. “Which I’ll admit is going to be a problem.”

  I nodded. “And you were the Blue Angel? You blew up the hospital room?”

  “Yes,” she said, “and Marissa Cortez wants me back. She knows about the patent, the hair, the eyes, and the explosion. I need to disappear.”

  “Liam can help with that,” Dexter offered.

  Gen looked at me expectantly. “I need help to get off world.”

  I held up my hands. “We need to think this through. Jumping off world without a plan is not going to solve your problem. House Cortez is after you, and it sounds like they have a strong claim.”

  “They don’t own me,” Gen said.

  “According to most laws in the KW, yeah, they do,” I said.

  She let out a long put upon sigh. “I just want to live my life. I shouldn’t have to beg for release from House Cortez. Can I let them use me as proof their patent is solid and still enjoy my freedom?”

  “No one really has freedom,” I said.

  “That’s the Lucy-damn truth,” Dexter added.

  I’d have to talk to Dexter about his situation soon, but the immediate problem was with Gen’s predicament. Her hopes had been dashed, but I wouldn’t lie to her.

  “Look,” I said. “I’ve been at the top of the elite chain of command, and even then my freedom was limited. Your only option is to sever your ties to House Cortez. They aren’t going to make that easy.”

  “No shit,” she said. “Marissa Cortez ordered one of the doctors to commit me.”

  “She’s got to claim her heritage,” Dexter said. “That’s the only way House Cortez will back down and possibly get her enough exposure that House Storm and House Vance don’t try anything.”

  “House Storm and House Vance?” Gen asked. “Because of Harko Royale, you think they’ll come after me for what’s in my head? And you don’t want Dalton Vance to have the tech?”

  “Dalton Vance is ruthless,” I said.

  “And Liam would know,” Dexter quipped.

  I gave him a stern look.

  Gen was confused. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  I considered lying, but that wasn’t going to help build trust.

  “My real name is Cassius Vance. I was Head of House Vance after my father was killed, until my untimely death at the hands of my uncle, Dalton Vance. I’ve been on the run for three years.”

  “So you’re an expert,” she said, but it wasn’t a joke or sarcasm.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “which is why we have to make smart decisions, or you’ll end up a ghost like me.”

  She nodded. “What do we do?

  “First, we need to spell your hair and eyes. Hide them or tone them down,” I said.

  “I tried cutting my hair, but it grew back,” Gen said.

  “Really? What would cause that?” I wondered.

  “I was still in the hospital, where my powers were coming back. Maybe I was still transitioning? I don’t know.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Let’s try a novelty tat first.”

  Walking over to my desk, I pulled open a drawer and took out a small book of temporary tattoos left over from my initial days of escaping my past.

  I took out a tat for blue hair and green eyes and handed it to Gen.

  “This tat will—” Before I’d finished speaking, the tattoo formed on Gen’s arm, and her hair and eyes were transformed. I was still holding the unused tat in my hand. “Live Ink is incredible.”

  “Wow,” Dexter said. “You’re like a chameleon. Your House Cortez employee badge, with the short hair, looked nothing like your Zar colors. Now you look nothing like either of those.”

  Dexter opened a floating panel, which showed Gen on the screen. Her irises were still patterned, but not as noticeable as before.

  “At least now I don’t have to freak out when I leave the apartment,” Gen said.

  “Now we just have to officially prove you’re a Zar,” Dexter said.

  “How the hell do I prove I’m House Zar?” Gen asked. “And once I prove it, how does that help?”

  “You’ll be an elite of another House,” Dexter said.

  Gen snorted. “An elite? Why? Because I’ll be the only House Zar member in the Known Worlds? Will that make me a queen?” Jokingly, she said, “All hail Queen Gen, with a kingdom of one.”

  “No,” Dexter said. “Your hair makes you an elite; a royal. Varying degrees of pink hair and violet eyes are prevalent in House Zar descendants, but your combination is highest of the high.”

  “A princess,” Susan9 said, flicking her hand toward us.

  A message displayed on my VF: Genevieve’s decrypted chip data.

  [Genevieve Harlow, female, 23, T1, A10, Wanderer birth, House Cortez, Product Overwatcher at M13]

  [Genevieve Zar, female, 24, T10, A10+, Aratus birth, House Zar, Princess Royal]

  Bloody hell. She was a Princess of Zar.

  “This says I’m twenty-four,” Gen said.

  “And born on Aratus,” Dexter added. “Holy Lucy, you’re the Last Princess of Zar.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s an entire DS—Dark Stream—forum on the mythical Last Princess of Zar,” Dexter said. “They claim the heir to Aratus and Nyx Corporation was born days before the Great Cataclysm and was taken off world before Aratus went dark.” Dexter pointed at Gen. “There’s never been proof until now”

  “Princess of nothing,” Gen said. “Still a House of one.”

  “Not even close,” I said. “If you can prove your lineage, you would be the heir to billions of credits. Even if the WLA tried to leave the Aratus Trusts intact, they’d still have to provide restitution, and legally you could sue for any patents tied to House Zar or Nyx Corp. House of one, maybe, but you’d be worth trillions.”

  “How?” Gen asked.

&n
bsp; “There are thousands of patents out there, for everything from House spells to laundry detergent. But the main one is a legal dispute between House Vance and House Storm for JumpNav tech. It’s the reason no one has it; the patent is for a theoretical application. House Vance has a version, obviously, and I’m sure Oliver has built his own. But neither can legally sell it yet. You’ve got your own version, too—maybe the original House Zar tech, I’m not sure. But this tech will change the KW forever. And the House that owns the patent will be able to name their price.”

  “And Liam wants to screw his uncle,” Dexter said.

  He wasn’t wrong.

  “That would be a side benefit,” I admitted, but I didn’t want to continue to rehash my grievances with Dalton. “Dexter, search the news-feeds and the stream. We need to know who is actively looking for Gen.”

  “10-4, boss,” Dexter said.

  I went to the kitchen and pressed the double espresso button on my coffeemaker. Gen and Susan9 followed me.

  “Gen, do you want anything?” I asked.

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  “I am also fine, Liam,” Susan9 said.

  I raised an eyebrow and looked at her. Was she screwing with me? Gen asked her what I was thinking.

  “Are you capable of eating or drinking food?” Gen asked.

  “Of course not, but if I am to be perceived as real, I must be asked. I will always decline, obviously,” Susan9 said.

  “Obviously,” I said, turning back to the coffee maker and choosing not to laugh at the absurdity of our current situation.

  How the hell had my life gotten so crazy? I needed to be very careful I didn’t expose myself to Dalton. Getting arrested for harboring a known AI would certainly do it.

  “I’ve got something,” Dexter said, joining us in the kitchen.

  He flicked his hand and tossed a news segment from earlier today on the floating vid-screen.

  [“Breaking news from House Cortez Corporate Citizen Affairs Division. One of their associates has left the care facility where she had been committed yesterday. She is considered dangerous to herself and others. She may be disguising herself with pink hair and doctor’s scrubs. The only photo we have has limited resolution. Her employment ID is also being shown for reference.”]

  Two pictures displayed on the screen. One was Gen’s Mage Ink corporate ID, the other a grainy black and white photo of her in the hospital.

  “It would be easier to hide if they just showed my horrid employee ID,” Gen said. “And the black and white hides the pink—will that make my new look too similar? How widespread is the information?”

  Dexter moved his hands typing, then tossed a new page on the floating panel. “According to this, seventy-five percent of the population of Tau within a hundred-kilometer radius has seen the news announcement at least once. If you expand the area to the whole planet, the number is twenty-two percent.”

  “That’s significant coverage,” I said. “What about the Blue Angel story? Any new details?”

  “Only the DS stories,” Dexter said. “House Cortez has shut down all questions about the incident and insist on talking about the missing girl instead. They’re not connecting the two stories, and as far as I can tell, no one else is either.”

  “Not even on the DS?” I asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Seed a few wild stories about the girl and the Blue Angel,” I said. “Put so much misinformation out there that House Cortez is seen as incompetent and only pushing the missing girl story because they’re trying to cover up the real cause for the explosion. Make sure at least one story links the two so that House Cortez can’t merge the stories with the truth later.”

  “Will that work?” Gen asked.

  “It will get your face off the news feeds faster than trying anything else,” I said.

  “Or it could blow up and go viral,” Dexter said.

  “Then it will flash hot fast and burn out,” I said.

  “I’m changing my hair,” Gen said.

  A moment later, a new tattoo ran across her arm, and her blue hair switched to platinum blonde. Digital surveillance would still match the images, but at least now the black and white photo didn’t match as well.

  “You’re getting better at spell casting,” I said.

  “The tech in my head knows how to deconstruct spells,” Gen said. “I took the spell you showed me and switched out the color. I think I can create any combination on the fly now.”

  “That’s cool,” Dexter said. “Okay, the first story is up, and I’ve got two thousand bots posting about it. I’ll keep you updated if it starts getting any traction.”

  “Just make sure you don’t make any of the stories too real,” I said. “Even if one goes mega viral, the major KW news programs won’t touch it. Or they’ll dismiss it outright and throw House Cortez under the bus for being irresponsible in its handling of both situations.”

  “House Cortez won’t give up,” Gen said. “They need me to prove the Live Ink is viable; otherwise, they lose the patent.”

  “One problem at a time. Getting you off the news cycle is step one. Fighting off House Cortez security is step two.”

  “Dexter, what else have we discovered about Harko Royale? How quickly will House Storm or House Vance connect the House Cortez story with the Conor Cortez patent?”

  “Nothing we haven’t already discussed,” Dexter said.

  “I have more details,” Susan9 announced. “Gen’s data core has the original blueprint for their plan.”

  When she didn’t proceed with the details, I motioned for her to continue.

  “Harko Royale was a plan for each of the four founders to bring a very specific product with them into the new venture. Its original purpose was to create an entity to register technology created by the four men so that their existing Houses could not register the patents. The members had plans to leave their Houses and work for their own business interests. Each member specialized in a core technology. Conor Cortez registered Live Ink, a way to generate spells on demand. Ezra Zar registered Advanced Slip Stream technology, an extension of Nyx Corp’s original wormhole technology. The new version provided a way for an individual to fold space without protective shielding or a mechanical portal. Dalton Vance registered H-Series mechs, a way to extend life by creating an autonomous habitat for scholars. It was later amended by technology created by Ezra Zar to produce Morphable Human Constructs, which they considered the next generation of H-Series technology. Byron Storm registered Zero-D, a way to prevent scholar transfer degradation, an affliction that currently prevents scholars from living outside a fully connected stream habitat.”

  “Unbelievable,” I said. “They were trying to live forever.”

  “Or corner the market on longevity products,” Dexter suggested. “Probably both.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Most diseases can be cured,” Dexter said. “But there’s a handful that can’t be. Those people could convert to incorporeal and live out their remaining life in a body that can’t fail them. Even if they weren’t allowed to live longer than the standard scholar today, they’d live a better, longer life.”

  That was an interesting idea, but I highly doubted my uncle cared enough about anyone else to build a business around something so limited. Incurable diseases were rare, and most with such a disease didn’t have money to burn buying an MHC.

  “It’s a thought, but I doubt my uncle and his friends were that altruistic,” I said.

  This also explained why Dalton wanted the JumpNav patent so badly. It still didn’t explain why Oliver wanted it, unless it was strictly for profit, although it was more likely that he just wanted to piss off Dalton. Oliver didn’t need the money.

  Dexter said what I was thinking. “That’s why Dalton Vance is fighting so hard to get the Zar patent.”

  “I agree,” I said. “He can’t legally introduce JumpNav tech without it, of course, but he also wants the ability to ful
fill the Harko Royale plan and live forever.”

  “Oliver Storm also wants it,” Dexter said. “And that patent alone won’t complete Harko Royale’s mission.”

  “True, but Oliver may only want it for the profit or to piss off Dalton,” I said. “Neither will get it if Gen is exposed as the rightful heir. And I suspect they have some version of the MHC tech. Dalton modified his H-Series to incorporate Ezra Zar’s invention. There would have been testing. Dalton would have had a copy.”

  “If they had a copy,” Gen said, “or were actively testing prototypes, then why did they hire Dr. Lyle to make the CME? He literally made tons of it, but that quantity only created one MHC.”

  “What are you thinking?” I asked. “Are you suggesting the two remaining Harko Royale members haven’t advanced their plans because they couldn’t create the MHCs?”

  “If they’ve been testing it and refining the tech,” Gen said, “why would they need an independent lab to create the CME? It took Dr. Lyle eighteen months to generate that much CME. Wouldn’t they have worked out that process years ago?”

  “Right,” Dexter said. “If they’ve had the ability all this time, why outsource the creation of CME now?”

  “All good questions,” I said. “Perhaps they finally figured out the recipe and wanted to level up their production.”

  “Or they’re working from a secret location without a lot of available myst,” Dexter offered. “And this was just the next logical step to prove their theories.”

  “That’s an interesting idea,” I said. “That would mean the research is being done on Canis.”

  Dalton had several R&D labs on Canis; so did Storm. All major Houses tested products there because the laws for human testing were so lax. Houses would purchase tracts of land and set up diplomatic zones. The only thing they couldn’t create on Canis was myst. The local government wouldn’t permit it. They could have created the CME via other networks in the past, but that didn’t explain how this effort had failed. If they’d been having different labs create CME over the last few decades, how had they kept Donovan and other Underworld lowlifes out of it? This felt like an independent operation; something new they’d needed to do.