The Life, Death and Life of Amelia Hollow

by Edward James Bowman

  ***

  It was three in the morning and Shea still could not wipe the smile off Harry’s face. The president had learned that sex with a cybertronic woman was very different from sex with a normal woman. Shea instantly regretted ever touching the boy. She felt he was beneath her with his lower IQ and disturbing doll collection. However, turning the president down would have been a hard task. Previous presidents had put men and women in jail if they rejected them.

  “Wow.” Harry said for the fifth time. He was still out of breath.

  Dr. Hernandez noticed the bruises forming on the pale boy’s chest, face and shoulders. He’s going to hurt in the morning. She thought. If… there is a morning for him.

  Still drunk, Harry leaned in to kiss Shea. Unfortunately, she quickly pulled back at the last moment and he missed. “Go take a shower.” She said like a condescending mother.

  “But I don’t wanna.” He moaned childishly.

  Shea smiled, yet her eyes commanded him to go take a shower. She turned her head in the opposite direction when the pale naked boy stumbled towards the bathroom. Never in her life had she been more disgusted by a naked man.

  “Care to join me?” Harry peeked his head around the door after a few seconds.

  She smiled: “Maybe… but not right now.”

  The drunken president did not hear the reluctance in Shea’s voice and took her ‘maybe’ as a ‘yes’ and smiled before moving back to the shower. Dr. Hernandez gagged silently.

  The security cameras in the bedroom were like three little eyes all gazing at the bed. Harry had warned Shea about them before they arrived back at the White House. He promised that the cameras would be off, but Shea doubted that Mr. Flandry would permit that for safety reasons. Only Harry’s private bathroom was free of cameras. Dominic only allowed this because there were no windows and only one exit.

  Shea eyed the cameras as she walked beguilingly towards the bathroom. The door creaked as she pushed it, yet Harry did not hear. He was facing the nozzle, lost in his drunken thoughts. The shower door was also open. Shea raised her eyebrows. The boy had probably left it open for her.

  Perfect. She mused when she stepped in the forming pool of water just beyond the shower door. This idiot is doing my job for me.

  His eyes met hers when he turned and saw her standing in the shower’s archway. Harry did his best to not break eye contact. However, his gaze slowly trekked down her body. Her harsh robotic limbs were surprisingly alluring to him. Then again, it was not that unexpected he found her attractive seeing as he loved anything to do with technology. A cyborg woman was something from his dreams.

  “Hi.” He said, blushing. Despite having just had sex with Dr. Hernandez, he was embarrassed by his own nudity. Compared to Shea who was obviously in incredibly good shape, he felt rather unfit.

  The boy was dumbfounded when her robotic arm shot out like lightning and grabbed his shoulder. With no warning, he was forced out of the shower.

  “Wha–?” He garbled. The weak boy tried to push himself away from Dr. Hernandez, but she was too strong.

  Her robotic hand moved to the back of his head and squeezed. Before Harry could react, he was thrown down face-first at the sink. There was a cracking noise when his temple made contact with the porcelain basin. His body was limp as he lay at Shea’s feet. Even his drunk father put up more of a fight. She thought. Pathetic.

  The cybertronic woman did not bother to check his pulse. It would not matter if he was alive or dead because she doubted he would remember a thing if he woke up. She had done her job, now her dear allies had to do theirs. Dr. Hernandez instead and strode back into the master bedroom with a horrified expression painted on her face. She debated calling for help, or getting dressed first. Which one would an innocent person do first?

  Shea hastily grabbed Harry’s phone out of his pant pocket. Mr. Flandry was the number one emergency contact on the phone.

  “Yes Mr. President?” He said. Dominic had been so quick to the phone Shea guessed he had not slept since Harry told him that he was going on a date.

  “It’s not Harry. I-I mean it’s not President Harry Darwin.” She stuttered. The ‘fear’ in her voice was incredibly obvious.

  “Dr. Hernandez.” Dominic noted. “What’s happened?”

  “Harry was t-taking a shower and I went in and… and he must have stepped out and slipped and… and…”

  “I’m on my way.” He said before abruptly hanging up.

  It was hard to keep an anxious expression when Shea felt like celebrating. Providing Harry did not wake up within the next few hours and that her dear allies did their part, everything was going to plan. The final problem was Dominic Flandry; the man who was the reason that the thread government was hanging on by had not snapped. She would have to continue to play the innocent witness until the time was right.

  Dr. Hernandez was half-dressed when the door swung open. She had decided not to get fully dressed as that would make it seem as if she had focused more on her clothing than the limp president in the bathroom. Plus the security officers that followed Dominic were intrigued by her robotic limbs. They distracted from her wonderful acting skills. The main man she had to be careful around was Mr. Flandry. He was a practically asexual man that had no care for Shea’s body. He would be watching her face, her eyes, anything that could help him understand what she was thinking.

  The president was carried out of the bathroom on a stretcher. He was alive, but both medics predicted that he had a cracked scull and imminently, brain damage. Dominic prayed the boy would not spend the rest of his days in a coma, yet he knew that if Harry ever woke up, he would not be the same.

  There was so much to think about. Because neither of the Darwin’s had had vice presidents, Mr. Flandry was the next in charge. He could not think about his pending position at that moment, but the idea was latent in the back of his mind. Pondering about taking official control of the USA would make his hair go white and fall out.

  Shea watched as Harry was carried out of the Lincoln Bedroom. Dominic noticed the lack of remorse in her eyes. She was a good actress, but not good enough. He casually strolled over to her, not once looking down to her bare legs. The only reason he would ever look at her body was to admire her robotic limbs. He knew there were procedures out there that could cover her limbs with fake flesh so that she would look ‘normal’, however Shea did not feel the need to cover up her limbs. After all, she had nothing to hide…

  “So did you hear him fall or did you just go into… join him?” He asked conspicuously.

  Shea realized that she needed to look more sympathetic. Flandry was onto her. “I-I was just gonna go in a-and join him… but I heard a thud and when I opened the door h-he wa–”

  “I get the picture.” He said abruptly, his own remorse was hidden beneath his stern eyes. “I know this is a strange and horrific… but I we are going to need to keep you here until we get everything sorted.”

  The pair had a conversation with their eyes. The cybertronic woman’s glowering eyes did not suit her solemn face while Mr. Flandry was obviously accusing her of Harry’s fall. Neither of them said anything. Dominic would let the interrogators get the truth out of her.

  Sleepless hours had made Dominic’s eyes weary. Harry was in a ‘stable’ condition, but doctor had pronounced him brain-dead. Even with all the advanced medical technology, fixing the brain was a hard task. Mr. Flandry knew; he had watched Harry’s father die with similar injuries to his son.

  He looked down at the unmoving boy lying in the infirmary bed. He was hooked-up to bulky machines that separated him from death. Dominic was going to have to make the decision on when to pull the plug. The boy was never going to wake up.

  As his assistant, he had not left the president’s side since the incident despite the fact many people had requested his presence elsewhere. There was security outside the door and all through the halls (this was the White House after all), yet he wanted to protect the unresponsive boy until he was
sure nobody was coming for him.

  Dr. Hernandez had had sealed lips during interrogation. Dominic was humane, and did not let the interrogators lay a hand on her. He had expected her to give under the pressure. However, she was a strong woman and very good at playing the innocent witness.

  Somehow, the media had gotten an anonymous tip-off about Harry’s condition which meant Dominic was scheduled to address the country in two hours. That was not all; Florida was not quiet anymore. There was a serious breach in security and over three-hundred people had escaped. Intriguingly, the chaos had erupted less than half an hour after Harry’s ‘accident’. Coincidence? Unlikely.

  Something clicked in Dominic’s brain. He was not sure how or why, but he suddenly thought about Leona Adams, the woman suspected of murdering Clive Darwin all those years ago. With Shea’s face envisioned, he searched-up Leona on his phone. There were few photos of the enigmatic woman. She had only existed for two years as a business woman and then she vanished. Her history was unknown, however she had sustained serious injuries in her past that meant she had to… have her right arm and left leg replaced with robotic limbs.

  Son of a bitch! Dominic thought.

  There was little resemblance between the two women. Leona had rather pale skin, curly bronze hair and a button nose. Shea was dark with black hair and a slightly longer nose. The eyes… The eyes are what told Dominic that they were the same woman. Although Leona had blue eyes and Shea had brown, he could see the same aggression in them. Dominic’s theory was only a hunch, but he was sure he was right. Now he just needed some proper evidence.

  “Rick,” Flandry said sharply into his earpiece, “I need you to run the face matcher to compare Leona Adams and Shea Hernandez.” Silence was his reply. “Rick? Richard, pick up your cell phone you idiot. This is serious.” Still no answer.

  There was an electronic groan as the power went out. Dominic tensed at first, but if the outage was just an accident then the backup generator would kick-in. It did not, and his head snapped to look at Harry. The medical equipment had limited battery supply and which meant Harry would be dead within minutes of the power did not return.

  Dominic switched channels: “Frank, where’s the power gone?” He doubted he would get an answer… and he didn’t.

  Two of his fingers slid between the venetian blinds. He pulled them down just enough to peer out into the courtyard. The morning sun was already in the sky yet its light was blocked by the smog.

  The yard was empty, which was peculiar seeing as security guards were meant to be patrolling the yards at all times. He noted the ruffled bushes just beyond the patio deck. There was a black shape sticking out of the side of it. A shoe? Dominic pondered. Lord, I hope this is a dream.

  A brash thud came from the other side of the door. They were in the White House’s private infirmary that few staff had access to. He had a feeling what was happening outside, and reached for the gun concealed beneath his expensive blazer. Dominic was useless with a gun. He was a freaking civil-servant, not a security guard! His pacifist beliefs conflicted with the government he worked for. His family questioned why he would work directly for the dictator. His answer: money.

  Mr. Flandry’s hands trembled around the gun as he pointed it at the door. Every few seconds he would glimpse at Harry, just to check if he was still alive. Protecting a brain-dead boy who could lose life support at any moment was incredibly stressful.

  It was a long time before the door opened. Obviously whoever was on the other side was being cautious. Despite the fact they had just murdered both security guards outside, they were careful with the trembling bureaucrat they suspected was in the infirmary.

  Dominic did not like being scared or being out of control of a situation. Right now, he was scared about the uncontrolled situation. He always had a plan of action, but not now. At this moment, Mr. Flandry knew the only way out was death. He could fall on his sword, or let the assailants push him down onto it.

  The door handle turned as the door creaked open. “How ya feeling Flandry?” A familiar voice mused.

  “Leona Adams.” He growled before glancing at the life support system again.

  The door swung spontaneously open. Two shadowy figures stood in the doorway behind the equally shadowed woman. Her robotic hand shined in the little light there was. Dominic could have shot her right there and then. However, he wanted to know who Shea was and why she had tried to murder Harry. Many people had a reason to murder Harry, but what was her motive?

  “Switch it back on, Frank.” She said slyly. Mr. Flandry wondered how many people were in on this plan. A significant amount of staff had to be a part of it if the White House was so easily infiltrated.

  The power came back on almost instantly. The positive to this was that Harry’s life support was back on. The negative was that Dominic could now see that he was outgunned. The two men behind Shea were dressed in the typical security uniforms. Mr. Flandry recognized both of them although he could not recall their names.

  His eyes widened when Shea’s gun move from him, to the vulnerable president. Her sadistic smile suggested she was not bluffing.

  “Y-you can’t.” Dominic stammered.

  “Why not?” She asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

  “He’s brain-dead. You can’t kill him when he’s this vulnerable!”

  Shea spoke with her gun. Dominic screamed ‘no’ but the sound of the gun overpowered his voice. His heart sunk when he heard the EEG and ECG systems flat lined almost simultaneously. Harry was basically dead anyways, but he felt he should have switched off the boy’s life support before Shea arrived so he could die a more humane death. Seeing Harry with blood trickling out of the hole in his eye was unpleasant. Dominic felt sick. Yes, he had been a terrible president; nonetheless he had not deserved to die.

  Mr. Flandry knew he was next, so he had nothing to lose. “Are you proud of yourself?” He asked with aggression in his tone. “Does murder a brain-dead boy make you happy?”

  “He was clinically dead anyways.” She objected with a laugh before strolling over to turn off the annoying flat lining systems. “It’s not murder if he’s already dead.”

  Shea and Flandry stared each other down. Shea knew Dominic had a lot of questions. His expression would be priceless when he heard her motives.

  “You boys can leave.” Her gun was pointed at the centre of the bureaucrat’s chest. “I can handle him.

  The last security guard to leave closed the door. Both of them felt a little queasy after witnessing Dr. Hernandez kill the defenceless boy in cold blood, yet it had to be done if they wanted to make a statement to the public.

  “Give it here.” She said, pointing with her gun to Flandry’s gun. She knew he did not have the guts to shoot her, however it was always better to be safe than sorry.

  The assistant hesitated, yet he knew there was no real point in resisting. Even if he did manage to shoot Shea –which was unlikely– he would be killed by the various traitors roaming the halls of the White House.

  He felt surprisingly tranquil about his pending fate. Maybe it was for the best. With Harry dead he would have become the leader. He did not want that roll. Harry had not wanted that roll either. The boy had had presidency forced upon him after his father’s death, but all he had ever really wanted to do was play with technology and watch weird anime shows. Presidency had been the farthest from his ambitions.

  “Like father, like son.” She mused as she stared down at the boy. “Both men could not resist the chance to have sex.”

  Shea was much older than she looked. She was only a little younger than Harry’s father. Cosmetic surgery and anti-aging creams had done a lot for the woman.

  “So,” Flandry ignored her statement, “are you actually any of the ethnicities you appear?”

  Shea admired her dark hand and chuckled: “No, I’m one-hundred per cent Caucasian. I do wish I actually looked like this, though. Hernandez is quite pretty. It’ll be a shame to give her up.” />
  “Before all this, did you look more like Leona Adams or have you always changed your face?”

  Her eyes darkened. “Since the incident, I have had to change my face.”

  “What incident?”

  She raised an eyebrow: “Seeing as you were the president’s right-hand man I presume you have at least some knowledge of American history.” Dominic had majored in US history and politics. He had more than enough knowledge of history. “You must recall the rebellion in Montana –I’m sorry– New Utah.” The pieces of the puzzle fit together in Flandry’s mind. Shea saw this and continued her story. “Well, I had never directly participated in the war until the war came to my doorstep. I had a son, Dominic, would you like to know what happened to him?” No answer from the bureaucrat. “He died in my arms… well, my arm seeing as my other arm was missing along with my leg due to the drones bombing us. He would be in university right now.”

  What surprised Dominic the most was not the fact that Shea was a Caucasian from New Utah, but the fact that she spoke about her son almost pitilessly. He would have felt more sympathy for her if she could have emoted more. Then again, he presumed that after years of grief the woman had grown hard and detached.

  “Your people didn’t come to help us.” She continued. “Only the rebels did. They replaced my arm and leg, changed what needed to be changed,” Dominic understood what changed was Shea’s appearance, “and then gave me a new identity. They sent me away to Washington D.C. to meet their secret allies. My front was a simplistic businesswoman while I got closer and closer to Clive Darwin… We were expecting Clive’s death to end the tyranny.” She looked at the lifeless body of Clive’s son. “We had not expected his son to take on the role of ‘president’. I think Harry was just as surprised as we were.”

  “Why did you wait so long to assassinate Harry?” Dominic asked curiously. A horrible thing to ask seeing as the corpse of Harry was in the room with him, but he needed to know.

  Shea shrugged: “I wanted to get it done as soon as possible, but Leona Adams had to vanish first. The nation was out looking for her. Then Shea Hernandez had to be situated in Darwin Enterprises where I thought I would be working hand-in-hand with the president, but all I ever got to meet was his personnel when we did government projects.”

  “And then Amelia Hollow arrived.” Mr. Flandry whispered.

  “And then Amelia Hollow arrived.” Shea repeated, nodding slowly with a malevolent smile. “Because of her, I got to attend lunch at the White House. I only had one shot, so I had to make sure Harry remembered me. I bickered with him, then called to apologize an–”

  “I think I know the rest.”

  Shea smiled even though she was a little annoyed that she did not get to finish her monologue.

  The woman was not working with the underground resistance to free the locked-up Right Wingers. All she wanted was revenge. Dominic questioned his own competence if he had let so many rebels and traitors pass right by him. He was the one who gave the final call for having moi (yes, I’m still narrating), Sven, Geraldine, and the scientists from Darwin Enterprises come over for a celebratory lunch. He should have done more background research on whom he was letting walk through the door.

  “Tell me,” Shea asked, “do you honestly think the death of two dictators is such a bad thing?”

  “I don’t under normal conditions.” He said truthfully. “However, can you honestly tell me that you and the rebels will run this country better and bring sanity back to this hellhole?”

  “I think a trained ape could run this country better than either of the Darwin’s.”

  (I know this is not my story, but do you get Shea’s ‘ape’ and ‘Darwin’ joke? And you thought my jokes were bad!)

  Dominic opened the blinds properly. There were a dozen men and women in dark clothing strolling casually into the yard. This is it. He thought. America is about to have a whole new civil war.

  “What’s your name?” He asked while blankly watching the men and women come into the White House.

  “Pardon?”

  “Who were you back when you used to live in New Utah?”

  Something snapped in Shea’s brain and she was filled with anger. Dominic did not have time to react when he felt a bullet rip through his torso.

  “It’s-called-Mon-tana!” She snarled in-between shots.

  Mr. Flandry looked her in the eyes as he fell like a puppet that had its strings cut. After years of being an actress, the woman was unleashing all her built-up rage. He had no final thoughts, his life did not flash before his eyes and he did not walk into the light. Dominic simply died.

  The cybertronic woman looked back and forth between her two victims. For some reason she could not help laughing. Not out of joy, but relief. She was relieved that she had finally avenged her son. She could die peacefully now.

  “Jane?” She asked into her earpiece.

  “Yeah?” A meek voice replied.

  “Harry Darwin and Dominic Flandry are dead. I’m gonna need you to hold the press conference about the situation today and warn the public who’s in charge now.”

  “What?” Jane replied, annoyed. “Where are you going?”

  “To hell.”

  “Besides hell.”

  “Where do you think? I’m going back into hiding. Seeing as I’ve murdered two presidents I think any of their psychotic followers are gonna be out to get me.”

  There was silence on the other line for a moment. “Fine.” Jane finally replied. “And if you change again, go for a Northern European look so you’ll be virtually unrecognizable. Well, except for the cyborg parts.”

  Shea smiled. Jane had been her dearest friend since the day she was recovered by the rebellion. Jane had lost two daughters so the pair could connect.

  “We’ll see about that.” She said with a smirk. “I’ll meet you in Miami when all of this is over.”

  “Okay. Have fun in hiding.”

  Jane hung up, and Shea was left alone again. For some reason she felt as if the bodies on either side of her could move at any moment. Death still felt very surreal to her despite the fact she had witnessed so much of it. When her son died, a part of her could not believe it. In the aftermath of the drone attack she continued to massage his bloody scalp with her one good arm as if to comfort the lifeless child.

  Anger built up in her again when she realized she still was not satisfied. She had killed the men who caused the death of her child, but it wasn’t enough. Her heart was a bottomless cup that could never be filled, and she knew that. Now that she had avenged her son she saw no point in living.

  She was torn from her thoughts when she heard guns going off downstairs. After looking at both men to reassure herself they were both still dead she fled the room. She had done her part, now the rebellion could do theirs. Shea was not a natural fighter. She intended to live out the upcoming civil war on an isolated beach in Hawaii. Who knew? Maybe she would even get cosmetic surgery done so that she could look like her original self. She had not seen that woman in a while. It would be nice to meet her again.

  27: The Quiet Mansion

  “Sven!” Geraldine shrieked overdramatically as he ran around the mansion looking for his husband. “Harry was killed! That Shea Hernandez girl did him in. Amelia was right; that woman is a bitch!”

  His voice echoed through the mansion but there was no reply. Geraldine’s blue tunic rippled as he dashed up the stairs. When he could not find his husband, the first places he checked were the holo communications room and then his office on the third floor. When he was in neither of the rooms Geraldine was a little concerned.

  “Geraldine?” A voice called from the floor below. It was Clara.

  He jumped the last two steps and strode over to the maid. Her anxious expression was concerning. She uncurled her fingers to reveal an empty dusk syringe. Geraldine turned to stone at the sight of the dirty little thing.

  Oh fuck. He thought in a panic.

  “Where did you find tha
t?” He demanded. “Did you show it to Sven?”

  “Sven’s the one who found it.” Clara whispered. “He told me I should give it to you.”

  He scratched his scalp with his manicured nails. Sven was mad… Very mad. Geraldine knew how much his husband hated dusk. The number of deaths the drug had caused was nauseating. ‘Dusk babies’ had horrible mutations due to their parents’ addiction. When they got married, Sven had made it very clear that they could not have a child –through either a surrogate mother or artificial womb–because their child would have had a high chance of having a harmful mutation. Geraldine had never wanted children anyways, but the idea that he could not produce healthy kids saddened him.

  The effects of dusk were like the effects of AIDS and meth of the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth centuries. Even if you gave up the drug the effects would never fully go away. Geraldine had been very good at concealing his addiction from Sven (and moi until I saw his arm). If he was ever showing signs of dusk poisoning, he could just say they were the aftermath effects of his ‘old days of dusk’. Now Sven knew that was a bald-faced lie. – Not good.

  “You know where he’s gone?” He said in the calmest voice he could muster.

  “For a walk, I think.” She put the syringe in the pocket of her waist apron. She doubted that Geraldine wanted to hold onto it. “You better show him the press conference video. You two are probably gonna need to move country soon if you wanna miss the civil war.”

  He ignored her and instead sprinted down the stairs. What was he going to say to Sven? ‘I’m sorry’ was probably not going to cover it. The Swede had paid for all his treatment, stood by him while he was ‘rehabilitated’, and been huge campaigner for eradicating dusk. Sven had hated dusk for longer than he had known Geraldine. His older brother, Frank, had always been a spirited artsy fellow, but dusk had changed all of that. One night his body could not handle the poison anymore and he went into cardiac arrest. Sven was still in high school when he died. He never spoke about his brother, not even to moi despite the fact my middle name was ‘Frank’.

  Geraldine finally saw Sven. He was walking through the field behind their mansion. He was wearing a heavy brown jacket with the collar up, and his hands in the pockets. From where Geraldine was standing he did not appear mad, however the quick speed he was walking at let Geraldine know how Sven was feeling.

  He did not call out his husband’s name as he jogged after him. Alerting him that he was there would only make Sven walk faster. He had a right to be mad, but like me, he could be overdramatic, especially now that both of his children were in a dangerous navy halfway across the galaxy. He had learned about Geraldine’s dusk addiction at the worst possible time in his life. The lack of control over his children’s safety was tearing Sven to pieces, so learning that his husband was a dishonest drug addict was too much for him to take.

  Everything was falling apart. The ‘liberal’ dictator had been killed by a Right Wing rebellion that had taken control, his children were in constant danger and his marriage was about to go off the cliff. Thinking rationally was out of the question for my father.

  “Sven?” Geraldine whimpered.

  Surprisingly, his husband came to a halt. He did not turn to face Geraldine so his husband had to walk around to face him. He appeared enigmatically calm despite the fact he was burning up inside. Geraldine wished Sven would just express how he was feeling instead of pretending to be impassive. It was an annoying trait that had not been passed onto moi. If you have not noticed; I am very outspoken about how I’m feeling.

  “Yes?” He asked as if he had no idea why Geraldine looked so timid.

  Geraldine was silent as he tried to figure out what to say. A part of him wished he had just stayed inside the mansion instead of coming out to chase his husband. “Are you… okay?” He asked hesitantly.

  “Of course.” My father replied simply. “Are you okay? Dusk can really toy with the mind and body.” He said cheerfully.

  “Don’t do this.” Geraldine muttered.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t be a condescending dick.” Sven stopped acting and frowned. “I know I should have told you bu–”

  “Is that why Amelia was acting funny around you?” Sven interrupted. “Did she know?”

  “Yes.” Geraldine admitted.

  “You made my daughter keep a secret from me?” His eyes flared. “How dare you.” He snarled.

  “She thought that it was for me to tell you, not her.”

  “Oh yeah?” He folded his arms like a crossed schoolteacher. “How did that work out?”

  “I was worried that you would be mad at me.” Geraldine whispered with his head hung low.

  My father did not buy Geraldine’s remorse. He could have asked for help to stop at any point and Sven would have paid for his rehabilitation again. My father would have paid for Geraldine to be rehabilitated a thousand times if he had only just told him. Now it was too late. Sven could not handle Geraldine’s issues because in honest fact; he needed help with his own issues.

  “How long was it after rehabilitation that you got hooked again on dusk?” He asked. His voice cracked with emotion. “Or did you ever stop?”

  Geraldine was silent which gave my father the answer he expected.

  “The president was killed.” Geraldine said to break the silence. “The rebellion are taking over.”

  “I know.” Sven snapped. “I’ve gotten you a plane ride back to Kingston.”

  “Are you coming with me?”

  My father ran his fingers through his hair. “No.” He replied silently.

  Geraldine put his hand to his mouth and shook his head. “You’re not going to… Sven! I’m sorry. I promise I’ll give it up!” He pleaded, on the verge of tears.

  “I hope you give it for your own sake.” Sven mumbled.

  “You can’t send me back there!”

  “It’s for your own safety.”

  “Safety?” Now it was Geraldine who was mad. “You know what I had to do before you met me? I’ll have to be a fucking whore again!”

  Sven shook his head. “No… We have a shared bank account. You get half of it so you’ll be more than well-off.”

  Geraldine stepped closer and grabbed my father’s trembling hands. “I want to go with you.” He sobbed. “Y-you can’t leave me. I’ll quit dusk forever, I promise.”

  “It’s not just the dusk.” Sven said while avoiding eye contact. “It’s a lot of things. I… I just want to be alone. I’m not healthy right now.” Geraldine did not understand. “I-I just don’t feel right in the mind right now. Now that Amelia is gone I need to rethink my life.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to leave me. You’re going through a mid-life crisis. You’ll get over it.”

  Sven squeezed his husband’s soft dark hands. “We’re not right for each other, Geraldine. We’re fun together, but I think we need different people.” Geraldine shook his head. “Yes, we do. I think I’ve known that for a while now, and when I found the syringe I knew that it was true. You want to be able to live a wild life and still have a rock to support you when you fall,” Sven kissed him on the forehead, “I can’t be a rock anymore, sweetie. I’m weak.”

  “You’re not weak.” His husband whispered.

  “Yes, I am. I can’t even handle your dusk problem anymore.”

  “You only just learned about it.”

  Sven ran his hand up to the inside of Geraldine’s elbow where a few red spots were. His dusk spots were usually hidden with makeup, but still visible if you looked hard enough.

  Geraldine flinched when he ran a thumb across them. “I think I was ignoring the signs. That was bad of me.”

  “No. It was bad of me to not tell you.”

  Geraldine then realized how dysfunctional they really were. He still did not want Sven to leave him. He was terrified at the thought of being alone.

  “Please don’t leave me.” He whimpered even though he knew it was useless.

&nbs
p; My father held him close. “We’re not a healthy couple.” He mused. “You’re going to be fine. Just use your money for the right things. Find somebody just as wild as you are who can also support you better.”

  “I can support myself if you stay with me.”

  “I have no doubt that once you’re rehabilitated, you’ll handle yourself better than anybody, but I think I need to be by myself while I get my head cleared.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  “Geraldine,” My father smiled sadly, “we don’t work together. We both need to make some changes to our life.”

  There was a long silence that followed. All that could be heard was the tall grass being swayed by the wind and Geraldine’s sobs. Sven held him, but not romantically. It was a goodbye hug. In a metaphorical sense; he was saying goodbye to his old life. He had not bought a plane ticket yet. He didn’t know where he wanted to go in the world. Planet Earth did not appeal to him. He wanted to go further.

  Sadly, fate already had plans for where Sven was going. Both men looked down when a luminous yellow light started at the ground below my father and slowly swallowed him from the feet up. Sven quickly leapt away from Geraldine and the light came with him. At first he thought he was hallucinating. He knew exactly what it was, but why was it grabbing him?

  Neither of them knew what to say. My father just stared at Geraldine with a gaping mouth as the golden light ate him up.

  “Sven!” Geraldine cried as the golden light shot away into the sky.

  He continued to stare at the sky even though a part of him knew that light was not coming back. Geraldine was not sure what to do, so he just dropped to his knees and kept his eyes on the sky. How would he tell the police what had happened? Could they even do anything to get Sven back?

  The confused Swede found himself standing in a fluorescently lit room. The air was cool like inside a refrigerator although that was the last thing on Sven’s mind. Once the room began to stop spinning he was able to make out the figures in front of him. Most of them were grey and black hulks, but in front of them stood a small figure with a white face. And on the smaller figure’s left was an equally small blue figure.

  He rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. Then the figures came into focus. A normal person would be afraid of the giant rhinoceros-like creatures, yet Sven knew better. He knew to fear their leader; Lady Tamarax Deloro.

  Tamarax smiled when she saw that the Earthling recognized her. They had never met, but back when Sven was an ambassador they would have informed him about her.

  My father forgot about the translator in his chest pocket, however Tamarax spoke to him in perfect English. “How are you doing?” She asked tauntingly.

  “What?” He asked, perplexed by the entirely random situation.

  There was no time for answers. Sven dropped when a bolt of electricity ran through his body. Although he was still conscious, he could not move a muscle. One of the hulk aliens picked him up like a ragdoll and turned for the door.

  “Make him a body-glove before you put him away.” Tamarax called out haughtily as the henchman and my victimized father left. “We want to be courteous hosts.”

  “Why do you need him?” Her meek blue friend asked.

  She traced his spine with one of her long black nails. He shuttered under her touch, but did not dare to move away. “If all goes well I should not need him.” She hummed. “So long as Am is a good girl and follows her script everything should go down very easily. However, if something changes I will have the girl by the throat if I bring her father into the crossfire.” She tapped her wrist computer and dialled the pilot. “Take us home, Vem. We’re done here.”

  KC2203 did not ask any more questions. He knew Tamarax’s brain was falling apart so hardly anything she said made any sense. That was the problem with having 4th dimensional knowledge in an organic brain. Tamarax could not differentiate her ambitions from her reality. No matter what she did, he doubted her plans would go accordingly. Seeing as the meteor/ship was already on its path for hitting the star with a lot of time energy around it, he thought she was going to get the universe, but a part of him hoped she didn’t. A universe ruled by Tamarax would be terrible.

  28: Saved by the Bell

  It was strange to think that my last supper was a cold steak sandwich that tasted somehow even plainer than cardboard. My fellow cadets were also not enjoying their meal. While watching them eat, flashes of their deaths blinded me every few seconds. My mind was becoming mush. I knew my sanity was depleting by the second. That tear in the space time continuum had really messed with me, and yet I refused to get help. It was really my own fault if I fell apart, but according to Frek I just needed to keep it together for ‘the next few days’.

  I was a little concerned when Sven and Geraldine did not respond to my call. Maybe they had other plans or had just forgotten. No, something was wrong. Either it was the Bennu or the daughterly instinct, but I could sense that my father was in trouble.

  With only a minute left before I had to get out of the booth I quickly called Cameron. I had not scheduled in a call with him, but hopefully he would pick up.

  Ten seconds passed before I got a response. “Amelia?” He said. His image moved up and down as he walked through a corridor. He had responded to moi on his wrist computer instead of the booth. I was just happy I got to talk to him.

  “Hey Cameron.” I said with a smile.

  Somebody said something incoherent behind Cameron. He turned back and smiled. I could tell it was not a truthful smile and he was probably embarrassed to have his little sister calling him. Having annoyingly embarrassing siblings was a galactic problem. The personnel who were smirking behind Cameron’s back all had humiliating siblings as well

  “What’s up?” He asked to hurry along the conversation.

  “Not much.” I muttered. “Have you heard from dad recently?”

  He thought for a moment. “No. Why?”

  I shrugged casually: “Don’t worry. He just missed my call.”

  “Oh.” He looked as anxious as moi. Sven had never missed a conversation with him. “Should we exchange wrist computer IDs so that I can message you if he contacts me?”

  I nodded. “Wait… I thought I could only message people from the academy off my wrist computer?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You can message anyone.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  More crewmembers behind Cameron laughed. He shrunk below them. Poor boy. What a horrible sister I am.

  “Because… err… um… your cadet wrist computer was not made to have long range contact and because the Titonic is always away it would not make much sense.”

  “Right.” I nodded suspiciously.

  “Would you like to exchange contact information with En Cam?” Data asked when Cameron sent me the request. Of course, I said ‘yes’.

  “Thanks Cam, I’ll talk to ya later.” I smiled sincerely.

  “Bye-bye!”

  I could not tell if the personnel walking with Cameron were his friends or enemies. Seeing as he had previously stated that he had no friends I doubted it was the first option. Hopefully they were not his enemies and just some associates that were teasing him.

  Despite my lack of belief in gods; I prayed that Sven contacted me or Cameron sooner or later. The thought of my father being in trouble made my stomach churn. Was his endangerment related to Bennu and Tak? Was there anything in my life that was not related to Bennu and Tak? Am I incredibly paranoid?

  My nightmares were becoming progressively worse. This one I had that night was the worst of all. It was nothing; no light, no colour, no sound, just insanity. This was the problem with sleeping in regeneration chambers; you could not wake up. I just had to continue the dream no matter how much it made moi want to scream.

  Finally, the dream calmed. The room I stood in was dark, but still visible. It was made of what looked similar to limestone yet it was more luminescent. There were painted symbols
etched into the walls and ceiling. Due to the darkness I could not tell what they were, but they looked familiar. I could only really make out that the wall to my right was slanted inwards. Either the work of a bad contractor or the building intentionally had a slant.

  There were two exits from the room. The one behind me was closed. It most likely led through the dark interior labyrinth of this strange building. The archway in front was wide. Airy white curtains made it impossible to see what was on the other side. I could make the presumption that because the wind was coming from that direction that it led to a balcony. There was a figure waiting for me on the other side of the curtains. The same figure that had been waiting for me for a long time now.

  My feet stung as I walked forward. Looking down, I realized that my skin was charred. Only my feet hurt, nothing else. I reached up to feel my scalp. My hair had been burnt off. There was no point in questioning what had happened to my body, I already vaguely knew the answer.

  I lost my footing when the building shook thunderously. A crack formed in the slanted wall, and yet the building remained strong. The ground continued to vibrate for seconds after the first rumble. An earthquake? Air strike? Both?

  The figure beyond the curtains seemed to have remained firmly planted. I quickly got back up and continued my slow journey to the balcony. The curtains brushed against my singed skin as I reached the archway. I would have continued if the door behind had not opened. Flat black creatures slithered along the ground from the darkness. I lifted my left foot up to let one of them pass, but it snapped up and strangled my ankle and started to wrap itself around my leg. I stumbled backwards as more began to wrap themselves around my limbs. Resistance was futile. They continued to spread across my body until they had covered everything below my head. In the dark room, my body had become invisible. Finally, one of the inanimate black creatures glided up to my head. I remained surprisingly calm as it wrapped itself around my skull.

  Sadly, this dream was interrupted when icy water sprayed my body. Darn shame, I was really looking forward to where that nightmare was going. The dream had probably been some dramatic foreshadowing that could affect my future, but I had already forgotten most of it. Save the flat black snakes; those things were damn creepy.

  I was enjoying my usual ‘car wash’ routine before I opened my eyes and was met by two amethyst ones staring back. Holy crap. What was Chorst doing out there?

  The regeneration chamber hissed as it opened. A long silence followed as Chorst and I stared at each other. He was just standing in the doorway of my cubicle with his arms behind his back. Like usual; he looked like he had a stick up his butt.

  Most girls would have screamed if they woke up to a man standing in front of them (unless they were fans of some sort of vampire series where it was usual for the female protagonist to wake up and see her creepy boyfriend standing above her). I did what I had been trained to do: leapt out of my chamber and tackled Chorst. Pain filled my chest when I realized that I had jumped out of my chamber without carefully removing each needle suction cup. Blood trickled from my little wounds. Damn it! Was I ever going to take those stupid suction cups off properly?

  I had always been taught to have no exceptions for men who could potentially try and sexually assault me, but the trinard did not fight back. He just took my blows like a punching bag. Once I realized this, I quickly stopped and jumped off him. The Frenchy got up after moi and wiped a little bit of purple blood from his nose. If Chorst thought his beating was bad, he should have seen what I did to a boy called Ronald King when I was thirteen. The stupid boy tried to grab my breasts –despite the fact I was practically flat chested at that point– and I broke his wrist and his nose. That boy never caused me trouble again.

  “Err… Sorry.” I said awkwardly. “It’s impulse.”

  “As it should be.” He replied calmly.

  If there has ever been a more awkward situation than this; than I would like to hear about it. Could anything be more humiliating than standing naked in front of your semi-attractive dub captain who you had just beaten up? Right then, I would have preferred to be back in my nightmarish dream than there.

  Obviously it was still very early. None of the other cadets were up yet and the lights were switched off. The only light we got was from Chorst’s wrist computer and my regeneration chamber. Why would Chorst wake me up so early? He had to know that I needed my sleep or I’d be very aggressive during the day.

  “So,” I allowed my arms to slither in front of my torso to shield my privates, “what do ya want, Chorst?”

  “I found some intriguing information on Lieu Com Feb that is related to his death.”

  This, did interest me, but not while I was naked. “That’s great. So… couldn’t it have waited till morning.”

  There isn’t going to be time in the morning.

  “No.” He said impassively. “The way I was able to retrieve this information was not through legal measures.”

  I smiled. “You hacked a library computer, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” I snickered demonically.

  Chorst turned to leave and expected me to follow, but I remained put. He turned back after a second and looked at me questioningly. My body was now feeling the chill of the icy habitat we lived in. Streaking would not be easy to do at Starside Academy seeing as you would become an icicle before you had even done your ‘run’.

  “Come.” He commanded. I knew he did not mean it aggressively, yet that was how it came across.

  “I’ve gotta get changed first.” I muttered as I slowly stepped backward into my cubicle. Turning around would expose my behind, and I was not going to let that happen.

  In a short amount of time I stepped back out still zipping up my jacket. Chorst was waiting for moi at the archway to the corridor. His face glowed above his wrist computer. Walking in the dark to meet him was a little unnerving. I knew there were no objects that could trip me over, but I liked to see my feet when I walked. Chorst did not have these problems. His nocturnal eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

  “We could get in trouble.” I told him.

  “I could get in trouble.” He emphasised. “I hacked the library computer, you are merely a witness.”

  A thought popped into my head: “Wait… So what level access privileges do you have?”

  “The same as access as all other cadets. However, convincing the computer that the information I sought was available to level 0.5 privileged cadets was not difficult.”

  I bit my lip. “Could you help me get some other information from off the computer?”

  “What information?”

  “Bennu and the atoms that form it. Also, some information on Lady Tamarax Deloro could be nice.”

  Chorst was silent as he stared at me. He was probably trying to figure out why I would want to know about those two topics. He did not ask, though.

  The stars acted as our primary source of light once we reached the corridor. I forgot just how beautiful the universe was. Most of my time at Starside was stolen by classes. Just stopping to look at the billions of stars was extravagant. Chorst stood beside me silently. I had a haunting flash to the dream where we both stood in a field in Wyoming and watched the universe come to an end. I looked down quickly to make sure Chorst’s hand was still there and had not been burnt on. Luckily, he was fine.

  “Our planet has a lot light pollution.” I told him. “We cannot see this many stars from Earth.

  He glanced at me once, but continued to look forward before asking a question that had apparently been bugging him: “Did you surgically have your breasts reduced in size? They look disproportionate to your body.”

  “Hey!” I snapped. Apparently he had glanced at my body when he saw me naked. “You’ve crossed the line Chorst, please step back.”

  He literally took a step back. I smiled; he was so cute and he didn’t even know it.

  “It is not acceptable among humans for a male to see a female’s breas
ts or other genitalia.” Chorst stated. I presumed that was his way of apologizing.

  That sounded sexist, however it was true. Maybe I should have taken it easy on Chorst. He came from a planet where men and women were not differentiated in any way. Even in my times it was taboo for a woman to show her breasts. I had no intent of showing off my mosquito bites, but I do not think women should have to cover up more than men.

  “It’s okay.” I patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll make you return the favour one day.”

  “How so?”

  I did not tell him what I meant. I was ‘joking’ after all.

  We continued our walk down the dark hallway. The stars could only provide so much light which is why I stuck close to Chorst. His black uniform made him hard to follow. All that stood out in the darkness was his ghostly white skin and amethyst eyes. My own body was hard to see. Everything below my head was black… just like in that dream I had except the snakes were more like ribbons or bandages instead of spandex (or whatever alien material the uniform is made out of). I quickly changed this by making my wrist computer’s screen brighter. – I feared the dark at this point.

  I squinted my eyes as the library computer monitor switched on. My eyes needed to adjust to such brightness again. Chorst himself was having trouble. He blinked his eyes until he could face the screen properly.

  “Why are you up so late anyways? Didn’t you go to bed?”

  “I did.” He said while typing into the computer panel like a madman. “I have reset my regeneration chamber timer so I can choose when to wake up. Trinards do not need as much sleep time provided at Starside. One hour is adequate.”

  “One hour?” I gasped. “Shit. What do ya do while everyone else is asleep?”

  He said nothing, but I think what he was doing right then gave me a hint about what he did in his spare time.

  “How did you figure out how to hack the computers?” I asked to break the silence.

  “Jacoden. He has experience with USM computers.”

  Jac: his father who probably knew my father if they had been second-class ambassadors at the same time.

  “So your father is at Starside right now.”

  “Yes. On the other side in the government sector.”

  “Your mother must be lonely if she is back on your home planet.”

  How rude of me to assume Chorst had a mother. It was not exactly a norm to have a mother. I certainly did not have one.

  “No.” Chorst said coldly. “Levilli died during the caesarean section.”

  The cat got my tongue for a moment. Chorst and I had something in common; we were both motherless. He had no trouble talking about his mother’s death. Not even a pause to think about it. I supposed that was mixture of his lack of expression and the fact he had never known her if she had passed away during his birth. I would expect aliens to have a low mortality rate when it came to childbirth. Then again, the trinards were poor ex-slave clones who lived in a dome with few resources. They most likely did not have the medicine to save his mother. Why couldn’t the USM give them proper medical care? Oh, that’s right. They were a second-class species so they get jack.

  The trinard pressed the equivalent of the ‘enter’ key and leaned back so I could see. Page after page of information on Lieu Com Feb appeared. Chorst got to have his earpiece read it to him, but I just had to read it normally. Not that I minded. I was an excellent skim reader as proven by my old high school English results. You think I actually read Jane Eyre properly?

  Most of the information on Lieu Com Feb was about his origin, grades at the Nebulacross Academy, his significant recorded activates and finally; his cause of death. He had been killed during a scouting mission at the end of the universe –which I mentally noted the coordinates for– along with his companion, Lieu Sef. From what the forensics team could tell: he had died of blood loss after he had been… eaten?

  “Something ate him?” I looked at Chorst questioningly.

  The pale boy did not say anything. He simply looked back to the monitor. I copied him.

  Apparently he had not only been eaten, but whatever had eaten him was 4th dimensional as when he passed through their digestive system each individual piece of his body was transported through space and time to various unknown locations. That sounded like a nasty way to go, and yet I was more intrigued than disgusted. The name ‘Tak’ popped into my head and with that thought, I got a horrible headache.

  Chorst did not say anything. He just looked at moi with a slightly tilted head as if to ask ‘are you okay?’

  “I-I’m fine.” I reassured him. “That’s some pretty interesting stuff you found out. Is there any chance you could look up Bennu or the atoms that create it?”

  He was suspicious, but complied.

  My sanity was fading. Paranoia was setting in. Something across the galaxy was watching me, waiting patiently for me to piece the puzzle together. Either way, I got the feeling that the time I had was precious. – There was not much time left for moi anymore. Whether I was losing my mind or something was out to get me, I was not going to last much longer.

  “Fascinating.” He said to get my attention. He did not meant it as in ‘I find this fascinating’; he meant in general that what he had discovered was intriguing. My God, he’s a Vulcan!

  “What?” I asked as my headache began to clear.

  “All seven elements atoms that form Bennu are available at Starside. The USM has been testing out a new explosive called a J14-7 or ‘Bennu Bomb’.” He brought up an image of the grenade-like device. “The seven atoms are kept in separate compartments until the Bennu Bomb is activated.”

  “What happens when it’s activated?” I asked. This was something I needed to know.

  “The seven atoms fuse and form Bennu.” He said simply. “The J14-7 has had few successful results. It is the most dangerous weapon currently being tested in the USM. The main concern is that the fusion happens almost instantly so whoever detonates it will certainly be absorbed by the 4th dimensional explosion. The other problem is that the tear in the space time continuum only lasts for five seconds so its probability of being a successful weapon against assailants is low.”

  I ignored Chorst’s warnings: “And… it’s here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect.”

  He seemed to regret telling me such information. “If the USM learns of our prying then we could face having our minds wiped or execution.”

  Oh great, now that we could die it’s suddenly become ‘our’ problem. Chorst would not take full responsibility if we were found out. He had not wanted to look up Bennu in the first place. He did not understand why I needed to know this information. Then again, I did not understand why I needed to know this information.

  A long silence followed. My eyes darted back and forth as I tried to piece together how Bennu Bombs, Tak, Tamarax, Mel, Sven, Lieu Com Feb and I were all connected. I was charting all my knowledge like a suspect web with myself at the centre.

  “I…”

  My eyes went to Chorst. “Pardon?”

  He swallowed. “I can…”

  “Indeed.” I laughed.

  He sat silently as he tried to think about how to phrase his statement. His kind had to be careful not to offend themselves by speaking about thoughts or emotion. Poor guy, he obviously had something he wanted to say but he could not get it out. He opened his mouth to speak, then quickly closed it again and looked downward.

  “It’s okay Chorst.” I said softly. “You can say anything you want to m–”

  “Trinards can speak through telepathic mind melds.” He blurted out abruptly. He was so quick at talking that all of his words had practically mushed together.

  “Eh?” I raised an eyebrow, but he did not repeat. “A mind meld?”

  He switched off the computer monitor. His pale face became hardly visible in the darkness.

  “When trinards were first created; the trinords tortured our ancestors’ minds into submission. Trinard slav
es were not allowed to speak to each other verbally, so they learned to communicate telepathically at night when they were in their cells. It is the only way we can…”

  Express thoughts and emotions. I finished the statement in my head. How sad. The thought of the first generation of trinard slave clones popped into my head. Them all just sitting silently in the darkness, wanting to scream, but knowing they had to stay quiet. What I was thinking about was only the tip of the iceberg. If the phobia of expression of emotion or thoughts could be passed on genetically then what the trinords did to the trinards had to be worse than anything I could ever imagine.

  Chorst did not say anymore, so I had to help him: “Would you like to…?” No, that won’t work. “Can I experience your mind meld thingy? I asked.

  “Yes.” He replied. He seemed hesitant.

  I was quite honoured. For a trinard, connecting with someone on an emotional level was like losing your virginity if not more significant. The Frenchy seemed very reluctant to do anything. He just sat there staring at moi impassively. The poor boy was most likely somewhat embarrassed. Everyone else at Starside Academy could freely express their emotions. Chorst was the black sheep among the group. He probably thought I would not be impressed if our minds melded because I could already express my feelings. – He was not aware of the fact I loved the concept of mind melding.

  “You don’t have to show me.” I reassured him.

  “It will happen.” He replied unemotionally.

  He slowly lifted his gloved hand to my face, brushing it gently across my cheek. Because Chorst was so pale, I would have expected his touch to be icy, but it was warm like mine. Then again, maybe his fingers were warmer because he had just been typing furiously.

  It did not take a mind meld for me to understand that Chorst was interested in moi. Whether he was romantically interested or just fascinated I did not know. Did his species even feel lust or love? Hopefully a good mind meld would tell me. Due to past incidences I had a suspicion that Chorst would turn out to be gay. My boyfriend before Aiden was secretly gay. He was only dating moi because he had a crush on Sven. Don’t worry; my father hardly took notice of the boy. What I find interesting is the fact that my ex-boyfriend had liked my father for his looks, and yet I was a clone of my father. What the heck does that mean?

  I doubt Chorst even thought in terms of gender. He was most likely an asexual/pansexual hybrid. Most aliens in the USM were because differentiating genders between species was exhausting.

  “Relax.” He said coldly. “Otherwise a mind meld could result in a damaged mind.”

  I already have a damaged mind. One side of my mind said.

  Yes… Yes you do. The other replied.

  “Have you ever done this before?” I asked to ruin the calm atmosphere of the situation.

  Chorst did not answer. That did not exactly mean ‘no’ or ‘yes’. The trinard was annoying. He simply would not speak if he did not feel the need. That would make him considered asocial on Earth, but it was common in the USM for aliens to have similar antisocial attributes. I was a very expressive person –if that has not been made clear– so it was strange how I liked men (or women… my bisexuality would kick-in in my later years) that were impassive and not talkative. Aiden was the perfect example. Him and Chorst were more similar than I realized.

  I followed the Frenchy’s lead and closed my eyes. If my gut feeling was right, and if did not live to see tomorrow, then I was happy that I got to really know Chorst before whatever happened, happened.

  I nearly fell off the mushroom seat when shrill siren sounded from the speaker above us. Chorst’s hand snapped back like a whip. Nobody could perform a mind meld under stressful conditions. I saw his face as the library continued to flash red. He looked his usual bland self, but I knew he was mortified. Alarm bells: the cockblocks of the telepathic world.

  “We’ll try again later.” I yelled over the siren. I got no reply.

  Sadness sat in. There was not going to be a later. This was it. I did not know what it was, but this was it.

  “A security breach in the cadet regeneration chambers.” Chorst called over the siren as he read the alert on his wrist computer.

  My eyes widened. “We gotta get over there.”

  “No.” He said. “We will go find Frek.”

  Without any further discussion the pale boy stood up and strode for the exit. I followed with my fingers in my ears. The sirens were actually the USM’s best defence; they would deafen any assailant.