Echo

by Valerie J Mikles

  “Did Fisher put you up to this?” Morrigan groaned. “She has been calling me all week trying to get me in there.”

  “Really?” Danny asked, surprised that he’d been restricted in communication, but Fisher had not. That meant there was some other channel he could use to contact his crew.

  “Saskia is the right choice. She’s known Amanda longer,” Morrigan reasoned.

  “Right. Okay,” Danny said. Saskia and Amanda had grown up on Terrana together. They’d never been friends, but technically, she had known Amanda longer than Danny.

  “Is Amanda there?” Morrigan asked.

  “She went for a run.”

  “Alone?”

  “Of course not. Hawk’s trailing her. At a distance,” Danny said, rubbing his forehead. “She’s feeling much better.”

  “They didn’t treat her yet!” Morrigan cried. “They’ve just been doing that baseline thing!”

  “I know. That’s why I’m worried about disturbing her meds.”

  “Don’t worry, Danny,” she said resolutely. “I’ll be there… in the morning, I guess. Fisher’s been begging me to come give a lecture about fertility anyway. Your brother wants to talk to you.”

  “You missed the morning window,” Tray accused, taking over the comm without missing a beat.

  Danny laughed, comforted by the sound of his brother’s voice, even if the tone was berating. “Don’t tell me you flew to the gate to see me.”

  “I thought you’d disappeared forever, and I told Saskia to fly the rest of us home before we disappeared, too,” Tray said. Danny twisted on the couch, his guilt making him want to move, but his depression keeping him locked in place.

  “I got a very disturbing message from Hero,” Tray continued.

  A moment later, Danny’s Virp projected a video of Tray’s kid. Danny sat up so that he could look at the projection properly. Hero was a sweet seven-year-old, with dark skin, chocolate eyes, and a praying mantis on his shoulder. The kid had an unnatural love of bugs.

  “Daddy, I’m worried about you,” Hero said, his serious tone melting Danny’s heart. “I don’t like having to record this message. I want to talk to you. Grandpa came to the house and he fought with Mommy. I don’t want to move. I like your house. You have to come home.”

  They’d known Sikorsky was headed back to Quin, and it bothered Danny that the crime boss’s first order of business had been to interfere with Tray’s son. He should have tried harder to get Tray home.

  “Danny, if you take Saskia into the city, I’m out of pilots,” Tray said, his image taking over Hero’s.

  “Tray, there’s nothing I can do,” Danny moaned, twisting on the couch again, planting his face in the back cushion.

  The door to the apartment opened, and Sky came in, an acrid smell of smoke coming with her. Danny wrinkled his nose and buried his face again.

  “I’ll bring the ‘sled back tomorrow,” Danny said into the cushion.

  “Who are you talking to?” Sky asked, picking up a piece of fruit from the counter and taking a bite. She dropped her satchel, and then another large bag of supplies. Her hair was messy, and her clothing rumpled.

  “Tray. There’s some trouble with Sikorsky,” Danny said.

  Sky took Danny’s Feather without asking and hooked it on her ear. “Skipper, what’s going on?” she asked. Sikorsky was another one of her ex-lovers, and maybe she imagined she had some influence. “Well, with the relay delay, there’s not much you can do. They’ll open the gate to let us out if it’s an emergency.”

  Danny took the Feather back. “Tray, have you talked to Dem?”

  Demissie Zenzele was Morrigan’s older brother, and his estate was next door to the Matthews estate. Hero knew to run there if he was in trouble.

  “Dem, Mikayla. I even tried Alex. As it stands, I can’t even tell my son that I heard him until tomorrow,” Tray sighed.

  “We could take the ship home and drop you off. Amanda’s treatment could take weeks once we start,” Danny said.

  “I don’t want to leave you without an escape. What could I even do, going back alone?” Tray said, a hint of defeat in his voice.

  “Hero’s seven. He might just be pushing your buttons,” Danny offered. “You were very good at that when you were his age.”

  “Sure. Because Mikayla’s father is such a kind and generous soul who has never once threatened to split up my family,” Tray said.

  Danny’s shook from the stress. Sky took the Feather again, signed off with Tray, then tugged Danny’s hands, leading him to the bedroom with the larger bed. Danny didn’t want to sleep, but Sky stripped out of her clothes, and laid on top of the covers.

  “This is a solution I hadn’t considered,” Danny commented, crawling on top of her. Their first romp in the back of the Bobsled had been silly and cramped, but now they could stretch, and she offered gentle comfort. The difference was magical. She even cuddled with him after.

  “Where have you been all day?” he asked, running his fingers over her skin.

  “Old stomping grounds,” she shrugged.

  He gave her a look. They’d used that phrase multiple times as a euphemism for sex with an old flame. He knew their relationship wasn’t exclusive, and it would never be long term.

  “There’s a leaf the zealots like to smoke,” Sky said, combing through her blonde locks with her fingers. “A friend of mine was telling me the religious significance—using it to commune with spirits. I’m wondering if maybe it would work like the Hyproxin leaf.”

  The Hyproxin was a leaf that quelled her spirit so that she could sleep. Otherwise, she tended to suffocate under the assault of future visions. Seer-spirits were complicated, and Sky’s was deadly.

  “Did you want to test it?”

  “Not here,” Sky said, nuzzling her face against his. “I’m sending you back to the ship tomorrow, so you’d better enjoy me now.”

  “I am enjoying you,” he said, already half asleep.

  Amanda ran the city end-to-end. It felt good to run. It was a type of exercise she seldom got to enjoy on a ship, and she wondered if it was something she enjoyed as a kid. The adjustable Cordovan clothing supported her chest and wicked away sweat, and her shoes were like little clouds of comfort. There were a few other joggers, and she followed one on a path through the park.

  The lights in the dome never dimmed—these people didn’t simulate evening like they did on Terrana. Cordova was beautiful. If they’d had spaceships, she’d want to live here. No one here wanted her dead. There was no poverty. She found herself fantasizing about staying and getting to know Tommy better. The lack of men was a problem if he didn’t work out.

  The Cordovan shoes could only take Amanda so far in comfort before her body protested. She’d only been in full gravity for two weeks, and it had been raining most of the first. Slowing her pace, she pressed a hand to her side and checked the curve of the dome to gauge her position in the city. The Eastwind was near the flatter wall that faced over the cliff, and she used the Oseshen tower to orient herself.

  When she passed the tower, she stopped at another building next door. There was a statue recessed into the stone wall that reminded her of Galen. The face was more human, and the wings a mere hint of an idea. Her heart rate spiked, and the Cordovan bracelet on her wrist chimed.

  “Amanda, are you hallucinating about Galen?” Sky called. “Danny’s Virp is giving me a message.”

  Amanda tapped her bracelet. She’d gotten an adapted version so that she could listen with her ears rather than having the message transmitted sub-vocally. It was less private, but also less triggering. “It’s a carving on a building.”

  “I know where you are,” she said, grunting as she moved around. Amanda heard Danny moaning, meaning he was probably asleep on top of her. “Don’t go in.”

  “Sky. I’ve got her,” Hawk said, appearing next to Amanda. She nearly jumped out of her skin, but she knew at some level that Danny wouldn’t really let her run through the city alone. �
��Hey.”

  “I’m really seeing this. A half-breed,” Amanda said, pointing at the creature. The statue’s gaze was confident and forceful, the brows straight like it was angry. “Sky, what have you learned about their religious chasing of spirit creatures?”

  “They haven’t been seen in over a century. Same time as the purges happened in Nola, although we know Nolan spirit-carriers just went underground.”

  “The Nolans weren’t paper,” Amanda said. The icon seemed so out of place in the otherwise white-coated and bare cityscape. The stone looked gritty and unclean.

  “It’s called a harbinger,” Tommy said, coming up on her other side.

  Hawk swore, startled.

  “Hi, Tommy,” Amanda said, laughing at Hawk. Her stomach twittered when she looked at Tommy, and she became painfully aware of how sweaty she was. She wondered if he was following her or Hawk, but she managed to stop herself before making a joke about it. “What do you know about the harbingers?”

  “Michael is obsessed with them,” Tommy said, keeping his gaze on Amanda and his back to the statue. “He writes about them and draws pictures.”

  “Has he ever seen one? A live one?” Amanda asked.

  “They went extinct with the rest of the originals. If they were ever real,” Tommy said. He’d dropped the falsetto and was using his natural voice.

  “They’re real. I’ve seen them.”

  Tommy glanced over his shoulder at the statue, then turned away again. “What did they signal for you?”

  “My death,” she whispered, leaning in when she felt Hawk’s arm around her waist. Tommy was a natural person, but the scars she’d seen on Michael’s spirit form had her convinced that he was like her. “Has Michael ever died?”

  “If he had, you wouldn’t have met him. He’d have been dissected,” Tommy said, lowering his chin.

  “Sorry, Tommy,” Hawk said. “We don’t have to talk about this. Right, Amanda?”

  “Right.” Amanda squeezed Tommy’s hand, but the limpness of the limb told her that it wasn’t comfort he needed. It was escape. “I’m glad we ran into you. I think I’m feeling well enough to play cards after dinner.”

  Tommy nodded, but he didn’t smile. More than once this week she’d offered a card game only to be overwhelmed by exhaustion or a fit of violence. Tommy had seen more of that side of her than she wanted him to, but he usually stayed for dinner.

  Hawk picked up a conversation, and the more he talked, the more Amanda’s head cleared. Before they made it to the Eastwind, Amanda felt a strange tug at her heart. She’d felt something like it before, and she thought it was just restlessness from lying down all day. But Tommy cocked his head like he felt it, too.

  “I have to go,” Tommy said.

  Those same words had been on the tip of Amanda’s tongue.

  “Michael needs me,” Tommy said, switching from his deep voice to his falsetto.

  Amanda narrowed her eyes, checking the spirit realm, but not seeing anything strange. She listened again. Could Michael have a power that she didn’t? Did Tommy even know he was responding to it?

  “He’s with your mom. I’m sure they’re fine,” Hawk said, studying Tommy while keeping his arm around Amanda.

  “No, it’s… I have a job. I look after test subjects,” Tommy stammered, pulling his long hair down to cover his smooth-shaved cheeks.

  “Michael is your brother. It’s okay to humanize him,” Hawk said. Amanda figured it was related to one of their private conversations.

  Tommy nodded. “I have a lot of reading to do. For work. But thank you. Thank you.”

  He didn’t flee; he just turned and walked. There was no call in the spirit realm after the first one. Amanda started to follow, but Hawk held her back.

  “That was weird,” Hawk said, gazing after him. “Did you get a sense? You made that face.”

  “I got a sense,” Amanda acknowledged. “I don’t think he was in control just now.”

  16

  The next morning brought rain, but also relief. Morrigan’s obligation to Amanda would be over soon, and if Fisher’s healing of her cheek was anything to go by, her world of medicine was about to change. Whether they claimed the title or not, this was the Hidden City of Hope, and if Morrigan had to go in, she was going to learn their secrets before she left.

  The Cordovan gate waited for no one. Even knowing about the cloak, Morrigan was shocked when the Bobsled landed in the middle of the woods and Jack Fisher appeared from nowhere to greet them. She and Saskia slogged through the rain until they reached the shielded deck, and suddenly everything was bright and dry. Though the rain fell and hit the shield, it made very little noise. After a late breakfast, Fisher took Morrigan to her lab, showing off the facility like she was wooing a wealthy donor. They came to a room of artificial wombs, each carrying a fetus at different stages of gestation.

  “We’ve slowed production as our longevity has improved, but we never deny a child to a wanting parent,” Fisher said. “If the wait list ever exceeds six months, we have a bubble event to clear out the backlog. Most years, we only birth twenty to thirty children.”

  “And you’d give this technology to Hawk’s people?” Morrigan asked.

  “Douglas Hawk—Hwan—asked that we not produce a clone. Or a mix of him and his lover,” Fisher said. “As a scientist, I’m disappointed. As a family planner, I understand. For his people, it’s better to understand the cause of their Malady so that any clone would not pass on that flaw. His description of the affliction left much to be desired. It will take a few weeks to filter through results from the DNA testing.”

  “Weeks?” Morrigan asked. She knew Amanda’s treatment would take time, but she hadn’t considered how much of a mystery Hawk’s ailment was.

  “Our genetic mapping technology may seem advanced, Doctor, but we haven’t analyzed an original template in a hundred and fifty years.”

  “I see.”

  Fisher’s staff gathered, and Morrigan presented them with a lecture about pregnancy, focusing on the experience of the mother, since these people had literal windows into the baby’s development. Her insights seemed to convince many of the women in the crowd that their artificial wombs were less savage than natural pregnancy. They were surprised to learn about babies developing listening skills in the womb. At the break, one of the women went into the womb room, sat by a tank, and spoke to the baby inside.

  “I may have started something,” Morrigan commented.

  “I talk to every cell cluster I grow in a petri dish,” Fisher shrugged. “Even when I know it’ll never be more than a skin graft, I give it my love. I’m told it’s a Fisher weakness. It’s why so many of us work in this kind of lab.”

  In the afternoon, Morrigan decided to hang the male anatomy discussion and talk about female puberty. She imagined it was different in Quin when young girls became fertile, and didn’t always tell their parents before they had sex. In a city like Cordova, it didn’t matter. Kids could explore their sexuality without risking pregnancy. In Quin, there was still a small number of teen mothers, hitting both affluent and poor communities, although the denial was stronger among the wealthy. Once Morrigan had started medical school, she’d been approached by several of her wealthy college friends who wanted to get a quiet abortion and paid well for her silence. She wondered what a scandalous affair would look like in this town. Was it taboo for a Fisher to sleep with another Fisher, or was it more taboo to cross the family line? Blending templates was clearly not the norm.

  Startled yelps filled the hall outside, and Morrigan dove under the nearest table, pulling one of the lab stools with her to use as a weapon. The other women in the lab gave her a strange look. Most rolled their eyes and dispersed to work on other things.

  “Let him go. Let him through!” Jack Fisher hollered into the hall and was nearly bowled over, but quickly wrestled the troublemaker into her office.

  Crawling out from under the desk, Morrigan reset the stool, and peered into Fisher’s of
fice. Fisher stood in the middle of the room, embracing the young man, murmuring in soft, consoling tones. He was a husky blond, matching Hawk’s description of Michael. His body quaked in pain, but he made no sound as he sobbed. His hand was clamped to his ear, his skin smeared with blood. Morrigan rushed over, pulling gauze and a knitter from her bag.

  “Hold still. I can help,” she said, positioning Fisher’s hand to brace the man’s head. As soon as Morrigan touched him, he lashed out violently. It was all Fisher could do to hold him still.

  Another young man ran in, this one wiry and shorter. He had a black eye and a bleeding lip.

  “Michael!” the wiry man cried. “What do you think you’re doing, running here?”

  “It’s all right, Tommy,” Fisher said, bracing Michael against herself. Michael was throwing some kind of silent tantrum. Fisher clamped her hands on either side of Michael’s face, and he reeled in pain.

  “Calm down. I can’t understand you,” Fisher said, her grip tightening the more he struggled. The pressure on his face made the wound on his ear bleed faster. Michael’s eyes went glassy, and his body shook.

  “Excuse me. I need to get him to Dr. Schon,” Fisher said.

  “Or just let him bleed out this time,” Tommy muttered, pacing in front of the door.

  “It doesn’t look that bad,” Morrigan said, prying Fisher’s hand away so she could get a better look at the ear. “If you hold still—”

  “Not that bad? What kind of barbaric species are you from?” Fisher cried.

  Morrigan made a face but focused on doctoring. She wasn’t experienced in psychiatric medicine, but she’d done a lot of triage and emergency medicine before she’d left Quin. The man’s ear was partially severed, like it had been sliced, but the wound was clean and easy to knit. Morrigan made a rough first pass to slow the bleeding, then started a proper job, being careful so it wouldn’t leave a scar. She was surprised that the doctor who had healed her face, Chase’s hand, and Corin’s battered ribs, seemed so helpless when faced with this wound.

  “What’s your name?” Morrigan asked. Michael’s gaze drifted, but he was in too much pain to focus.