by T. K. Toppin
“Agnes too. Madds is up and running, though. His injury is bad, but he’ll be okay.”
“Good.” He pulled me in as we sidestepped a fallen wall panel in the corridor. “Agnes was a good operative. Simon will miss her badly.”
“I think Renna wants to retire.” I recalled Renna’s mood. “Did you know she just had a baby?”
“Mmm, I thought so. That’s too bad, though. She’s exceptional at what she does. Don’t worry about her. She won’t stray too far from this kind of work.” He shook his head to clear it. “Enough of this for now, Josie. Let’s get some rest. I’m about to fall on my face and my hip is killing me.”
The hospitality room was small, and that was an overstatement. But it at least had a bed, bathroom facilities, and a window that showed the vastness of space. Ignoring the view, John shucked off his soiled outer clothes and joined me as we crashed headfirst onto the bed. Our joints cracked, and we moaned with blissful relief. Even my spine creaked like a rusty hinge. Before I could appreciate the luxurious sensation of being off my feet, I was asleep.
* * *
Trudi was among the additional physicians, military personnel, and support crew that arrived with the transport shuttle. She headed straight to the Prosthetics Lab with murder in her eyes.
Before seeing her husband, she slapped a crumpled envelope into my hand. It was a little frayed and dog-eared around the edges, had numerous creases and folds marks, but the seal remained intact. From the look of it, it appeared to have lived for the last year safe and in the trusted sanctuary of Mrs. Patel’s ample bosom. It even smelled of her, sweet and floral like her signature perfume of tuberoses and gardenia.
Allowing Trudi and Simon a little privacy, John and I lingered for a moment before entering. Her voice, high and clear, came through the open door. It sounded most definitely pissed off.
Simon had been removed to a cubicle with clouded privacy screens and soundproofing. He lay uncharacteristically timid on the bed, staring up at his furious wife with something close to fear on his face. When Trudi finished her rant, most of which was threatening him with bodily harm should he ever decide to become near-mortally wounded again, she smoothed back her short hair and flexed her neck muscles to relieve the tension. Satisfied that her message had gotten through, her face was once again its usual pleasant self.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Trudesson,” John seemed a little timid as well. “Just need to brief Simon on a few matters. What news of home?” He gave Simon a personal unit. His friend snatched at it like a lifeline.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Trudi glanced my way and smiled. “Loeb is holding his own quite well. Aline said he declined your suggestion of using Adam as an advisor. I believe he’s resolved the matter on his own. Media houses are still clueless about the real deal here on the Scrap Yard. That may change as the civilians on board call home. Loeb already has damage control in effect for when news of this breaks.”
John nodded with relief. “Trusty Loeb. I must give the man a raise.”
“That’s from Patel.” Trudi nodded to the still unopened envelope in my hand. She propped her hip on the side of Simon’s bed and settled down. “Aline told you we had to let her go. We’ve a two-man team watching her as we speak. But she’s clean and just relieved to have her husband back.” Despite her business-like manner, Trudi flicked her eyes to her own husband, who studiously read over some information on the personal unit John had handed him. “Boy, does she talk a lot. Anyway, she’s been holding that letter for you all this time.”
“I can tell.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to open the envelope. The news of my newfound inheritance still had me reeling. The envelope wasn’t addressed, but I knew that it contained a message to me from Lorcan.
“Sit here.” John offered a chair, running a reassuring hand along my back.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I pried the seal open and unfolded the single sheet of paper. Seeing Lorcan’s handwriting made my breath hitch. It was like reading a message from the dead. Which, of course, it was. For a moment, I could scarcely see as tears obscured my vision.
Hello, Josie, the letter read, written in Lorcan’s neat, engineer-styled print. If you’re reading this, then you must know I am dead, as I’ve left Mrs. Patel with instructions that this finds you. I’m sorry. There was much I needed to say when I was alive, much that needed saying, but I was too stupid to realize it at the time. A letter alone seems insufficient now, but I have no choice. I was going to send a recording, but I thought you might not be able to stand the sight of me, considering everything that has happened. But this way is better, as I’ve a secret that you must memorize and then destroy.
Before I get to that, you now have a house, somewhere to call home. Mrs. Patel would have forwarded you all the necessary documents. Max is on his own now and he has funds that I’ve saved for him over the years. You need not worry about him. Regardless of whatever happens to me, know that you have someplace to go. I’ve left Mrs. Patel as caretaker, and she has assured me you will be looked after. She also knows some people who can create an identity for you. Trust her, Josie. She’s like family. I’ve also left my remaining assets and funds that I have saved over the years, to you. It is a little too late, but I hope it is enough. It is the best I can do. This is my gift to you.
Now on another matter, a very important matter. I’ve something very precious for you. It’s a secret I learned while on my quest to find the truth about Uron Koh. Alas, at the time of writing this, I still have not discovered who he is. You are now being held in the safest place in the world, the Citadel, but for how long is uncertain. When last I saw you, you were a prisoner and it pained me to see you like that. But you are safe, and that is all that matters. Should you be set free, it is my hope that you head straight back to North York, where you belong. It is your home now. Whatever you do, do not tell anyone this secret, as I came by this quite by accident from Michael Ho. I am hoping, by the time you do see this, that you will no longer need it to keep you alive and that things have been resolved. You see, by stealing it from Michael Ho, it ensures you live—should I not be alive to protect you. It was my insurance policy for you. I am hoping you will never need to use it against Ho, as he’s a powerful man and a very dangerous one. Be wary also of the man calling himself, The Expert, Mr. Jones. I do not know the full extent of his involvement. He appears harmless, a mere consultant, but be cautious with him. He knows much about many things, and he seems well connected to many powerful people as well as Uron Koh.
At the time I stole it from Ho, Mr. Jones was in close contact with him and I overheard discussions on the matter. What I give to you is a secret code that unlocks the controls to a space station, ST-Cy 15, also known as the Scrap Yard. It houses every known command and directive for all the droids in the world. It is Ho’s intention, one day soon, to steal on board and take control—but not for the droids. He intends to take the cell-regeneration and prosthetics sections of the station. I believe he is experimenting with cloning—humans. He seems quite obsessed with the idea and, for years, has been running hugely funded investigations and research into this area. Use this knowledge against him should you need it, and go straight to President John Lancaster. I loathe saying this, but whatever Lancaster is, whatever he may be or what I have told you about him, he is the only one that can stop Ho and The Expert. Use every advantage and resource to save yourself.
It is my hope you will never need this, but it was also my hope that you and I could have a future together. I think, at last, I am over my battle of devotion to my beloved Carmen. But now I am dead and I’ve left you to fend for yourself. I am truly sorry. Will you ever forgive me for this?
It was signed “L,” and as a postscript, a series of numbers and letters and symbols that took up two lines.
I breathed in to ease the sudden sharp pain in my chest. John had a hand pressed at the back of my neck to steady me. He was silent, his mouth a grim line. I looked to him, then handed the letter to Sim
on, who gave it a quick scan and grunted when he finished.
“He suspected Adam, as well.” My voice came out in a hoarse whisper. Instinctively, I reached for the spot where my pendant, the one Lorcan had given to me, once hung. “Jeez,” I croaked out. “If only we’d known all this before.”
“I know.” John stroked my hair.
“Yeah,” Simon smirked. “You really should’ve checked your messages.”
I scowled back at him, but he smiled with sympathy.
“We can’t change that now.” John breathed in deeply and shook his head.
“It would also mean Adam might have known who you really were from early on.” Simon’s voice turned flat, angry. “And if he managed to keep that to himself with a bold poker face, there is no limit to the lies he’s said to protect himself.”
“What if he really did not know?” John said.
Simon and I whipped around to goggle at him. John was the one who doubted the most, who suspected the worst. To hear those words almost knocked the breath out of me.
“How could he not?” Simon replied with paced words. “I mean, he and Ho were—according to this new revelation,” he flapped the letter in his hand, “speaking in detail about the Scrap Yard and, specifically, the cell-fusion aspects.”
“Speaking of it, yes. But not actually talking about Josie and her past. If Lorcan overheard, there would have been some mention of that fact. And if he heard, then surely he would have done more to ensure Josie was safe. He would have killed Ho and Adam on the spot.”
“That may be, but it says nothing of what Adam did or did not know at the time. Yes, Ho may have been keeping it quiet; after all, it’s his own family history.” Simon shrugged, chewing the inside of his mouth. With a delicate prod, he ran a hand over his injury. “As it stands, Lorcan only stole the code to make sure that Josie and her connection to him did not get her killed.”
“True.” John stared at me with a preoccupied expression. “Has he ever touched you?”
“Pardon?” I blinked. “Who? What do you mean?”
“Adam. If he knew who you really were, he would have choked on the spot at seeing you. His phobias, remember. You would be considered unnatural in his eyes.”
“Oh,” I nodded. “No. He’s never touched me except maybe a light touch on my arm or something. If that’s so, why has he managed to be near me after he found out? But wait, wait. He knows I’m a pod survivor.”
“Yes, but not a three-hundred-year relic.”
“Is there a difference?” I sneered at the favored term he liked to use.
“It’s because he’s in love with you.” Simon snorted as John and I stared at him in surprise. “And,” he continued, “you’ve not been in contact with him since he’s learned of it. You forget your little kidnapping incident.”
Ignoring his first comment, I got up and stood akimbo. “I was standing right there when he found out, and to the best of my knowledge, he didn’t choke up and keel over in fits.” I needed to pace and, in my mind, the room seemed to be shrinking. “But no, I’ve not been in contact with him since.”
“Fine,” John spoke again. “Let us pretend he didn’t know. Or suspect. And let us pretend he was not a key player and funded Ho. We know Ho was fanatically involved for obvious reasons, but he still wasn’t a foolish man. He’d have made sure he had enough resources and funds before he acted, and maybe used some of Adam’s funds as well as others. We also know that Adam had the most to gain from the success of this entire operation. And if he knew who Josie really was, he would have avoided contact with her—regardless of his…affection for her. I know him; at least, the extent of his phobias. They are too strong, too ingrained in him. He would have been revolted.”
“Unless love has rendered him senseless.” Trudi, who’d remained silent the entire time, spoke up. She wasn’t up to speed on events, but her quick mind seemed to fill in the blanks. “It happens.”
I stared at her, thinking, rewinding and reviewing the events from the last year. In my heart I knew Adam was smitten with me. Yet, he’d always remained respectful, distant, and treated our relationship as nothing but friendship, which I found admirable. But a small part of me recoiled from the thought that Adam might be in love with me. It was somewhat creepy, knowing his history as I did. A manipulator. Liar. Murderer…
“So, what now?” I asked with a heavy heart.
“That’s the thing.” John stood to pace as well. “We can’t very well accuse Adam on the basis of only this letter. I don’t doubt Wellesley’s word, but still.”
“And what happens next if more proof is found?” Trudi asked, straightening a corner of Simon’s blanket. “He’s already in exile. The public thinks him dead.”
“Good question.” John mused over something. Knowing him, I knew his first impulse would be to have his brother executed on the spot, regardless of the proof. But no; he’d want solid proof of Adam’s involvement. If it took a day or if it took another half century, John would find it and make Adam suffer for it.
“John,” I brought him out of his reverie. “Why don’t we just ask him?”
“For him to lie to us again?” Simon snorted. “He’s lied before to protect himself. He won’t stop now. No matter how remorseful he is or appears to be. Sorry, but he won’t be getting any favors from me. I don’t trust him. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again.”
“But Ho is dead, the research exposed. He’s lost any advantage he may have had,” I pressed on. “If he knows that we know, maybe he’ll confess or something. How else will we catch him? How are we going to get to the truth?” More unanswered questions, more emptiness, more weight to carry. I stamped down the building hysteria that was determined to drag me down and promised myself I would wallow in it later.
“I don’t know.” John replied for Simon. “But I’ll find a way. He may have covered his tracks well and good, but everyone makes mistakes. It’s human nature. And the last time I checked, dear brother Adam was still very much human.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “This has Adam written all over it. It stinks of it. It would be just like him to play little mind tricks, drop hints and suggestions, and make us run around in circles, confusing the issue more.”
I stared at John; his face was set hard. Yes, he would find a way to prove Adam’s involvement. If it was the last thing he ever did, it would be to find out the truth.
* * *
“You think she’s out there?”
“Margeaux? She’d have died instantly, Josie.”
“No, idiot,” Josie clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Fern.”
In silence, John nodded, rubbing a knot at his neck. “You want to find her, don’t you?”
They sat side by side on their stingy observation deck, the vast emptiness of space around them, their feet propped up on the window ledge. All that was missing was some space-brew beer. They made do with a flask of water.
“It’s crossed my mind.”
“You do know that—”
“I know, I know. She’s some mentally twisted creature, I know. But still… I want to find her. She’s the last link. The missing link.”
“You intend to find her and kill her?”
“No! Jeez, what do you take me for?” Horror had her eyes so wide she goggled at him.
“Well, the way the conversation was going and you on about last links and all. I just assumed…” He shrugged in defense.
John spared a moment to think about it. He’d find her to kill her. Maybe. These last few days had been nothing short of confusing for emotions and nerves, and he seemed to be still jumping with adrenalin. If someone offered to pick a fight with him, he’d fly out of his chair and beat them to a pulp—with a wide grin. He was also extremely horny.
“Will you help me? Find her, that is?”
“Yes,” he replied with care. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want.” She tilted her head to him. “You don’t think it’s a good idea, do you? You c
an’t protect me from every hurt that’s out there, you know.”
“You seemed bent on proving that fact to me. I’ve aged these last few days more than I would have in twenty years.” He reached out and cupped her face. “I’ll help, you know I will. For however long it takes to find her, I’ll back you on this.”
She smiled, a warm glow on her face. “Needle in a haystack, that’s what it’ll be.”
“Hmm,” John grunted and settled back in his chair. “More like a speck of dust in a vast desert.”
“So anyway, I’ve been reading up on Margeaux’s religion.” Josie changed the subject as abruptly as he would have. Tiredness stained her manner, but she seemed wonderfully alive and alert, as though a burden had been lifted from her body. Maybe just knowing he would help her find Fern had eased her soul. He must remember to be more helpful in the future.
“Have you now?” John gave her a bemused look. “You’ve figured out how to use the personal unit’s browsing feature? It’s about time.”
“Ha-ha, funny. Anyway, it’s quite interesting.”
“Are you thinking of converting?”
“Nah.” She flexed her arms and tucked them behind her neck, leaning back in her chair. A small pout formed on her mouth. “But as you didn’t give me a ring on our wedding…”
John frowned. “You never asked for one. Did you want one?” Sudden panic rushed him. He felt like he’d done something terribly wrong. A memory of his father flashed through his mind. His father had forever muttered about women and their trick questions. This sounded a lot like a trick question.
“Well,” she stared at him as though he were the biggest moron in the known universe. “Duhh. I mean, yes, but…no. What I mean is, I didn’t ask because you people don’t seem to wear rings anymore. In this century, that is.”
He formed his words with care. “Some still do. Traditions die hard. It’s a matter of preference. And rings are bothersome in times of combat. They get in the way.” He sounded too much like a man making excuses, so he clamped his mouth shut.