"Only direction is onward," Daiyna mutters, setting down her rifle and semiautomatic. Giving us a shrug, she unlaces her boots.
"You may not like what you're gonna see." I turn my back, the sound of my mechanical legs twice as loud in this confined space, and pull off my head covering.
"I always do," Shechara says, patting my rear end.
Daiyna curses under her breath. "Here's hoping the decon process includes a shower."
I nod. "Haven't had one of those in…" I almost say since Eden, but can that be right? Three and a half years with no shower?
I suppose we've gotten used to the stink and grime in between finding a few extra hydropacks, on occasion. If the raiders hadn't carried their own air supply, I'm sure they would've passed out after a single whiff of us.
Once we're naked, the inner door opens with a rush of air, and the woman's voice returns: "Please proceed into the decontamination chamber. We will have towels and a change of clothing for you once the process is complete. Captain Mutegi has been notified of your arrival, and he will be waiting for you in the wardroom."
Keeping my eyes set straight ahead, I lead the reluctant procession into the chamber. "Let's do this," I mutter, my voice echoing.
Shechara's behind me, followed by Daiyna.
"Hey, keep in mind we've got metal parts." I gesture at Shechara and myself, hoping the voice can hear us. "We'd prefer not to rust."
"Not to worry." I picture a woman in a white nurse's uniform. "The hydro substitute we use is similar to what you would find in ration packs. But please keep your mouths and eyes closed for the duration."
Not liking the sound of that.
The airlock door shuts behind us, and now we're trapped in what looks like an iron submarine from over a century ago, with just enough room for us to stand without bumping into each other. Not that Shechara seems to mind bumping into me. I'd wager she's doing it on purpose to keep me distracted from a stressful situation.
It's not every day we find ourselves trapped in the dark with a flashing crimson light above us and who-knows-what about to spray all over us. Not comfortable being at anyone's mercy, I clench my metal fists and look for weak points in the chamber's welding. Almost sure I could break us out of here, if necessary.
The blinking red becomes a constant, glaring red. Sections of the ceiling and walls recede and spigots protrude with dribbles of artificial water leaking out, followed by short spurts.
"Brace yourselves." I plant my feet and keep my arms down at my sides. Against my natural instincts, I shut my eyes and squeeze my lips into a tight line.
When the spigots unleash their spray, it's a blast that packs a wallop, hitting us hard from all angles. Not hard enough to cause any permanent damage, but definitely some bruising, and I quickly cover my more sensitive area. Shechara lets out a short yelp at first, but Daiyna hasn't made a sound. The scent of the water substitute definitely leads me to believe there's a chemical agent involved. We're being sanitized as well as decontaminated. Makes sense they'd want us to look and smell our best when we meet the captain.
After the wash, the chamber turns into a wind tunnel. Shechara holds onto my arm, and Daiyna holds onto her as they struggle to keep their footing against the relentless blast of air.
When the wind stops without warning, the red light turns to yellow. The opposite end of the chamber swings open like a hatch on an ocean vessel. A woman in a white uniform stands outside, just like I imagined, holding out three large towels for us. Not that we have many damp areas left. But we take them to avoid seeming rude.
The woman also has three navy-blue jumpsuits waiting, the baggy zip-up variety that look a lot like what we wore after All-Clear, along with rubber-soled shoes. We put them on, Shechara and Daiyna managing to do so faster than I can, and once we're presentable, we find ourselves led through a warren of tight, vacant corridors. I have to be careful not to clang my arms or legs into the walls. Don't want to wake up half the ship.
Eventually, we reach the wardroom. The woman knocks once on the door.
"Enter," a man's voice emanates from the other side.
She gives us a nod but remains outside. Guess that's our cue. I step up to the door, and it slides open automatically.
"Mr. Samson." Captain Mutegi stands on the opposite side of a large conference table. He's in his uniform, shaved and alert, like it's 0600 instead of after midnight. I've never seen the man before, but he stacks up to what Milton and Bishop had to say about him. He commands the room with a strength both intelligent and physical. "Can I get you anything? Coffee?"
"Yes, please," Shechara says, sidling up next to me. "Coffee would be wonderful."
"Make that two." Daiyna stands on my other side.
I can't remember the last time I had a cup of anything to drink. It's been nothing but hydropacks for years now. "I'll take one. And it's just Samson."
Mutegi nods, gesturing for us to sit down across from him. As we do so—Shechara and Daiyna pulling chairs out from the table while I lock my mechanical legs in a seated posture, not trusting these flimsy chairs to support my weight—the captain steps toward the countertop behind him. A large coffee maker has already brewed a fresh pot, filling the air with its rich aroma.
The room appears to be a miniature mess hall, maybe just for him and his senior staff, with plenty of counter space, a couple small ovens, and a double-doored refrigerator. My mouth waters as I wonder what delicacies might be found inside.
"We'd almost given up hope." He brings Shechara and Daiyna their steaming mugs. They pause to inhale like they're sniffing flowers. Then they take their first sips and nearly melt with delight. He smiles at their reaction. "Luther said there might be others, but that was years ago."
"Where is he?" Daiyna sets down the coffee, giving the captain her full attention.
"He's here." Mutegi hands me my mug, and I do my best to cradle the thing without crushing it. The coffee is hot and bitter, richer than anything I've had in a long while. It brings back a flood of memories from before the apocalypse, of diners and kitchens and breakfasts. Life when it used to make sense. "Lieutenant Commander Davies, who saw to your decon, is rousting him now. He will be here shortly."
Daiyna's gaze drops to her coffee.
"Took us a little while to get here. Some of your raiders decided to capture us."
He nods. "Yes, I heard about that. It seems they walked into an ambush. In Eden."
I don't react. Just drink my coffee and wait for him to elaborate.
"The next team of raiders who came through said it was a real bloodbath." He seats himself across from me and folds his hands on the table. "Only a single survivor."
"Was his name Perch?" Daiyna doesn't bother to hide her disgust.
Mutegi shakes his head. "Cain."
Shechara and I exchange glances. "Where is he now?"
"Aboard the Integrity. He'll make them a fine test subject." Mutegi leans forward slightly. "Unlike you and your friends, he fits the official narrative. He looks like an infected mutant. So they will spend years, potentially, running all manner of tests on him, finding out how he can possibly still be alive. As for you and your friends…" He sits up straight, squaring his broad shoulders. "You're immune to the contaminants."
"Immune," I echo, not sure where he's going with this.
"That's right. Your singular immunity has afforded you the ability to breathe without an O2 tank, to survive in harsh environments, to live off whatever you can scavenge." He lowers his voice. "You of course do not exhibit any superhuman abilities whatsoever. Because that would be a sure sign you don't belong here with us, wouldn't it?" He holds my gaze. "You do not want to find yourself in the same situation as Cain."
"We're as normal as any immune survivors can be," I speak for the three of us.
So that's why Milton never flew back to find us. Because he's been here, pretending he can't do anything...extraordinary.
Mutegi gives us a solemn nod. "It's the only way we'll ever get y
ou into Eurasia."
"How's that plan going?" Daiyna downs half her coffee now that it's cooled a bit.
Luther's plan.
"Not well. All Eurasian citizens living inside the Domes are fitted with neural implants once they're of age. Visual and auditory augmentation that allows them to interface with the Linkstream. But it also allows the Governors to monitor the health, activities, and whereabouts of every citizen, keeping track of the population. We cannot introduce an unaugmented person into the Domes. First we must find a way to fit them with the proper implants, then immediately have them take the place of someone else—before any change in the official census is noticed."
Seems simple enough. "So you send in one of us and take out one of them?"
Shechara shakes her head. "You would only need to deactivate someone's augments. As soon as they're offline, you could send in one of us."
"That's the theory. But we would have to match your augments precisely to the deactivated citizen's, of course. Otherwise, the analysts would notice a change in biometric data." Mutegi pauses. "Except for you two." He looks at Shechara and me. "We could send you inside the next time we dock."
"What makes us special?" I frown.
"Dome 6..." Shechara murmurs. Reinhart mentioned something about that.
Mutegi nods. "After the plague, hundreds of thousands survived, but many lost appendages and limbs due to infection. They carry telltale scars and wear prosthetics nearly identical to your own. Since they're not included in the official census reports, they are not required to be fitted with neural implants."
They sound like second-class citizens. "So how would you sneak us in?"
"As dust runners."
Right. "This is no longer a navy ship, I take it."
"Not officially. After Sergeant Bishop's escape, I was not allowed to return to Eurasia. My loyal crew stuck with me. We aren't raiders, since our work here is not government-sanctioned. We are smugglers, supplying a lucrative business in the Domes, and as long as we continue to do so, the Argonaus is ours." He pauses. "I have an underworld contact who pilots an aerocar for Dome 1 law enforcement. He will be able to get you where you need to be."
"Aerocar…" I stare at him. "That wouldn't be—?"
"A flying car, yes." Half a smile appears on his stoic face. "Welcome to the future, Mr. Samson."
"But what would we do there, in Dome 6?" Shechara asks.
"Luther will fill you in on the details."
The door slides open, and appearing as if summoned, Luther steps inside. He looks at each of us like it's New Year's morning and we're gifts that have been wrapped up and set out for him alone. In his eyes, I see no hint of a grudge for the way we parted company years ago.
I give him a nod, and he nods back, smiling broadly. It's damn good to see him again.
He remains silent as his gaze rests on Daiyna. She rises, her chair skidding across the floor behind her. She stares at him, at a loss for words.
Tears shining in their eyes, they reach for each other and embrace. Doesn't look like they'll be letting go anytime soon.
20 Sera
22 Years After All-Clear
When I open my eyes, I find myself lying on a bench seat in the cargo area of an aerocar. We're moving through the air, and from what I can see of the view outside, we're no longer in Dome 10.
Or any dome, for that matter.
Panic grips my insides as I stare at the sky above, unobscured by a tinted shield of plexicon. The ground below is lifeless, a barren landscape of dirt and rock.
"Where are we?" My voice sounds thick, my vision blurry as I stumble to my feet and grab for the back of the pilot's chair. Suddenly dizzy. "Who the hell are you?"
The pilot is a dark-haired guy with a bloody face, and he's wearing a security clone's armored suit. He steers the aerocar deftly, skimming fifty meters above the terrain. The passenger seat in the cockpit is empty.
"You're awake," he observes in the voice of D1-436, but without the helmet speaker acting as a relay. "We are almost there, Enforcer Chen."
I've never seen a clone's face before, and I can't help leaning forward with overweening curiosity. It looks a lot like the famous scientist Solomon Wong who created the clones in the first place. Not just like him—it is Wong, just forty years younger.
Did he make every Eurasian security clone in his own image?
D1-436 glances at me, quickly returning its eyes to the windscreen and the flashing coordinates on the display. "I apologize for my appearance—"
"You took us outside…" I stare ahead, not quite able to believe what I'm seeing. Everyone knows the quarantined wastelands exist, but nobody ever ventures out to see them firsthand. It's forbidden. "Why?"
"This is where the Twenty have been taken. These are the coordinates I retrieved while we were in Dome 2."
"And they just...let you fly out of Dome 10?"
"If by they you mean port security, I believe they assumed we were yet another government vehicle transporting precious cargo to the facility across the sea."
I peer out one of the side windows. "So we've crossed the Mediterranean." I glance at the display on the console. "And we're heading west."
"That is correct, Enforcer Chen. Are you quite all right? Perhaps you should return to your—"
I flop into the passenger seat next to the clone. "Tell me what happened."
I remember a hidden room in that lounge for underworld types. Erik was there, looking like somebody had worked him over. Before I could find out what was happening, somebody hit me from behind with a shocker.
"Your friend Drasko arrived in his aerocar shortly after you and Erik Paine entered the building. Drasko shot me and the clone beside me through the windscreen with projectile rounds. My helmet was irreparably damaged, yet I survived."
"Drasko." He's the one who hit me with that shocker. Some friend. "Why'd he—?"
"His intentions were unclear."
"What about Arienna? Is she all right?"
"Unknown. When I regained consciousness, the clone beside me was deceased and Arienna was gone. I entered the building and located you. I carried you up to the roof and took Drasko's undamaged aerocar."
The process of entering that lounge and getting away with me in tow sounds like it was no big deal. "How many people did you kill along the way?"
The clone pauses before answering. "I inflicted as much damage as was necessary to ensure your safety, Enforcer Chen."
"How many?"
"I did not intentionally seek to dispatch any human beings on the premises. But it is possible that a few of them may expire due to their injuries, if they do not receive immediate medical attention."
"Was Drasko among them?"
"I broke his arm. It was attached to the shocker he used on you, which, as you can see, is now in your holster."
I hadn't noticed. But there it is. I rest the palm of my hand on the weapon's grip. "You left Erik with those people?"
"Neither Erik Paine nor Arienna Dogan is my responsibility—"
"Because Erik modified your programming!" I curse, pounding the console in front of me with a fist. "Turn this car around. We're going back for them right now."
"We are approaching our destination, Enforcer Chen. It would be illogical to turn back now."
Without Erik, without the EMP grenades he was planning to procure from that shady establishment, our mission to awaken the Twenty will fail. There's no way I'll be able to free them from their augments—and from wherever they're being held. Not with a single shocker and a security clone that's seen much better days.
"Your primary directive is my safety, correct?"
The clone nods. "Yes."
"And you take orders only from me."
"That is correct, Enforcer Chen."
"Then explain why we're still on this heading." I draw my shocker and aim it at the clone's right temple. "You're disobeying a direct order. How do you know taking us to this facility won't put me in danger?"
D
1-436 keeps its head stationary, but its eyes glance at me. "You will be safe there. All of the Twenty will be. You cannot be allowed to move among the populace. It was a bad idea from the beginning, unsafe for all of you. The Chancellor was not thinking straight—"
"You're not thinking straight." It sure seems like the clone's original directive is rearing its ugly head. Or maybe it was never completely overwritten in the first place. This unit showed up at my doorstep requesting that I accompany it to a safe location during the terrorist threat, and it sure looks like that's where we're headed right now. "I'll give you one more chance, then I'm pulling this trigger. Turn around and head back to the Domes. Do it now."
"You are too important, Enforcer Chen. I am sorry I cannot comply. I must keep you safe."
Its right arm smacks the shocker away just as I fire a charged round. The pulse of energy misses its mark and hits the interior wall behind the cockpit instead. No damage done as it fizzles out. The weapon is designed for use on biological organisms, not mechanical. It'll knock out a clone with its helmet off, but won't do a thing to fully armored security personnel. And it won't bring this aerocar crashing to the ground.
So I keep firing, struggling to hit D1-436 in the face. But the clone is too fast, effortlessly blocking my every attempt as I curse, frustrated. When I get the bright idea to leave my seat and shoot it in the back of the head, it snatches the shocker out of my hand and keeps it out of my reach, all while maintaining a flawless flight trajectory and keeping its eyes riveted on the windscreen.
"There," it says as if we haven't spent the past minute at odds with one another.
Furiously clenching my teeth, I look outside at what appears to be a squatty tower rising up to greet us from the tortured earth. Almost like it's being birthed by the surrounding area, the same shade of dirt, composed of an analogous substance or made to look like it. There are no other structures anywhere in sight, not a single ruin. Just barren wastes as far as I can see.
"Please take a seat, Enforcer Chen."
Cursing under my breath, I return to the co-pilot seat in the cockpit and strap in for landing. D1-436 maneuvers the aerocar in a flyover, then banks to the right, and we sweep around the tower, closing in on the roof where a single landing pad is waiting for us.
Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) Page 107