Echo

by Valerie J Mikles

  “Because… you’re not Amanda.” Danny’s stomach dropped as he searched Amanda’s gaze. Michael had said she was missing, and he didn’t mean physically. He meant her soul. Amanda was gone. Erased.

  “Ian! Chelsea!” she hollered, cowering from him when her back hit the wall.

  “If you’re not Amanda, then who are you?” Danny demanded. “What is your name?”

  “Back off, Danny. Back off!” Ian growled, coming under his arm and blocking him from Amanda. Chelsea took Danny’s elbow, pulling him back, forcing him to give Amanda and Ian more space.

  “Avery said she was dead. Who is this? Did you clone her? What—” Danny was too confounded to form a proper question.

  “Not a clone,” Chelsea said. “This was Amanda. Now it appears to be Isabelle Cooper. Ian brought back her dead sister.”

  “Ian, you selfish monster!” Danny snarled, grabbing Ian by the collar and throwing her against the wall. He clamped his hand around Ian’s throat and punched her face. Amanda leapt into the fight and Danny could tell by the feeble moves that it wasn’t his friend. Amanda knew how to fight and was deadly, even when she wasn’t strong.

  “You erased her. You destroyed her!” Danny hollered.

  “She asked me to,” Ian gasped, clawing at Danny’s hand around her throat. Danny slammed her head against the wall, dazing her. Depression struck, turning his anger inward. Amanda had been against this procedure from the start. She’d warned him that she would be erased, and he’d talked her into it. He’d killed her.

  Isabelle Cooper was having a hard time controlling her new limbs, adjusting to her new eyes, or hearing her new voice. Her memories were intact, more or less. The last thing she remembered was lying down on the NR table, age forty-one years and six months. Her right lung had collapsed the week before, and she’d been awaiting a transplant from the genetics lab. Prognosis: full recovery in twelve weeks. According to Chelsea Granger, that was seven months ago—five months before her death. Ian had done the impossible. She’d transplanted Isabelle’s memories into a new body. Isabelle wasn’t even a Cooper anymore. This body was six inches taller, curvier in the bust and hips, and the fingernails broke weirdly when she bit them. The teeth felt weird, too, and she suspected at least one was a false tooth. There was a lingering sweet taste on her tongue, and she’d asked for water, but nearly choked when she tried to drink.

  The arrival of the evil ogre man had stirred something in her brain, and she couldn’t tell if it was her latent dream to live in a society of originals, or if it was an echo of her host. Seeing him get violent and still feeling sympathy for him made her think it was the latter. Her ears rang and the sound came from a black vault in her mind.

  “Hi, sister,” Ian murmured, smiling as she stirred. Her head was in Isabelle’s lap, and her face and neck were covered with red marks from the ogre man’s assault.

  “Sister?” Isabelle asked doubtfully, cringing at the sound of her new voice. “How could you do this, Ian?”

  “She begged me to do this for her. For you,” Ian said, touching Isabelle’s cheek. She didn’t care about the strange face; she saw the soul behind the eyes.

  “You had to know that I would never consent,” Isabelle said, her disgust at Ian’s actions tempered by fear and confusion. And the strange black vault. A vision of colors and spheres that clearly belonged to her host flashed through her mind.

  “It’s too late,” Ian said, nestling against her sister.

  Cringing, Isabelle looked at the pitiful ogre man, sitting on the floor opposite them, hunched over and brooding. He hadn’t moved since he’d punched Ian, and the pain radiating from his eyes made Isabelle’s ears ring louder. The friend he’d carried in had woken up a few minutes ago, and Chelsea caught her up on the situation. She checked on her friend—his name was Danny and hers was Morrigan. No one told her, but Isabelle knew them from her past life.

  “How is this possible?” Morrigan asked. “How could she do that?”

  “It was always possible,” Isabelle said, nudging Ian’s head off her lap and standing on her new legs. “But it’s not right, Ian.”

  “It’s perfect,” Ian said, sitting up, her delirious smile growing. “It’s miraculous.”

  “Ian, you have violated this woman. You must undo this!” Chelsea said. She stared Isabelle in the face, as if trying to see the soul inside.

  “She can’t. The scars from this level of remapping would be extensive,” Isabelle said, jamming her finger against her skull when she tried to point. Her fingers were longer now. “The process of undoing could destroy what healthy tissue remains.”

  “What if we inject stem cells?” Avery suggested.

  “Why don’t you just clone a brain and map that with your original baseline,” Isabelle said sarcastically. Cloning was the geneticist’s solution to everything.

  “A brain transplant? Is that safe?” Danny asked. It hurt to look at him—to feel like she should remember him. He couldn’t make eye contact with her without tearing up.

  “No, that was sarcasm,” Isabelle said, aching for their lost memories. She hadn’t had time to get caught up on who he was or why he’d brought his friend to Ian for help.

  “Why go back to the original baseline?” Morrigan asked. “You spent so much time developing the remap.”

  “The interim baselines were faked, weren’t they, Ian?” Isabelle asked, shooting a look at Ian. Ian may as well have been drunk. “The original is the only functional baseline you have.”

  “Functional might be an overstatement,” Ian muttered, rubbing her bruised cheek.

  “But treatable, medically,” Chelsea said. She held out her hand to Isabelle. “Let’s do a scan. I want to see what we’re working with.”

  “Isabelle, no. You can’t undo it,” Ian cried. “I can’t lose you.”

  “You already lost me. I’m just a ghost.” Isabelle’s voice hitched, and she realized she’d have to convince herself of that truth as well. She was planning her own death. It wouldn’t be as simple as lying down on the table.

  “Ian, you will be sent to inquiry for the attempted murder of a traveler,” Chelsea said. “Depending on the outcome of the remapping, that may be upgraded to murder.”

  “No! Don’t take her from me again!” Ian shrieked, throwing herself at Isabelle. Isabelle clung to her, terror taking hold. Inquiry was a death sentence for an accusation of murder. She couldn’t stay in this body and lose her sister, and she didn’t want to die.

  “I will save Amanda for you. I will fix this,” Isabelle promised.

  “The situation is fixed. It’s the best for both of you. She asked to be erased over and over,” Ian wailed.

  “Amanda—Isabelle,” Chelsea warned.

  “Let me say goodbye,” Isabelle begged, not letting her sister go. Even the hug felt unfamiliar in this body. “At this baseline, I still had hope to survive. A few more hours won’t change anything.”

  Morrigan leaned into Danny, keeping his back against the wall, forcing him to hold her while Sky held Michael on the other side of the room. After the screaming died down, an armed security officer moved them into one of the hospital conference rooms. Jack had hobbled in, looking ragged and guilty. She was the only one sitting, and the door locked behind her.

  “You can’t leave me in here with him!” a part of Morrigan cried, but she couldn’t get the words past her throat. Every now and then, she felt a tug from Michael, but not as strong as before.

  “How did you do it, Jack?” Sky asked, glancing at the door, then at Jack. “How did you get these two in bed together?”

  Morrigan couldn’t believe her ears. She squeezed Danny’s hands, pushing harder against him. He was caught in a numb, catatonic mode of distress. “What are you talking about, Sky?”

  “Lula says there’s no such thing as telepathy veins, but she’s wrong, isn’t she?” Sky said. “Ryndam has one, and now you do, too.”

  “Michael’s not a telepath,” Jack said, her head lolling to one
side. She rested her elbows on the table, and Morrigan wasn’t sure if she was going to put her head down or try to hold it up.

  “Michael says he had nothing to do with it. He said he didn’t want to hurt Morrigan,” Sky said, stroking Michael’s cheek. Morrigan shivered, feeling like it should be her holding Michael, but also hating the thought of touching him again.

  “He was afraid of his child becoming a test subject. But that wouldn’t happen,” Jack said, propping her head three different ways before she found her balance.

  Morrigan glanced from Jack to Michael. She remembered Michael warning her when they talked to Dr. Schon. He was willing to silently accept death rather than put her in danger. “What did you do to me? To him?”

  “After you told me what he could do, I got the idea. I took live cells from Michael and put them in a vein,” Jack said. She slid a black bangle off her wrist and showed it to them. Sky snatched the bracelet. “I made one suggestion. I asked the question, and they agreed. I didn’t realize its power… but after it felt like my insides had been shredded.”

  “Serves you right,” Morrigan muttered, rubbing her stomach. The others had talked about being controlled by a hybrid before. Tray still had the occasional panic attack. The sense of violation was more intense than Morrigan had ever imagined.

  “Well, let’s use it,” Danny said, breaking out of his catatonic haze. “I think Granger’s doubting she can save Amanda. Let’s suggest to her and Isabelle that they need to give us Amanda back.”

  “No,” Morrigan whispered. The doctor’s decisions were fragile enough when it came to restoring Amanda and tampering with their judgment promised to be fatal.

  “Morrigan, I know this was used to hurt you,” Danny began. The door whooshed open, and Sky tucked the bracelet into her pocket. Morrigan shifted uncomfortably and nestled in Danny’s arms again.

  Dr. Chelsea entered with Amanda and another Cordovan who introduced herself as the Deputy Prime Minister Calla Ryndam.

  “Dr. Granger, I want a thorough review of every remap Ian Cooper has done on my boys,” Jack demanded. She stood from the table woozy from her injuries, but she was determined to face off with Chelsea Granger.

  “Your test subjects are the least of my concern,” Chelsea retorted, then her face softened a little. “But I will add them to the list.”

  “Ian was assaulted by that ogre. I want him punished,” Amanda said, pointing to Danny and staying hidden behind Calla Ryndam.

  “Amanda,” Danny said.

  “Isabelle,” she corrected. “I may not approve of how I got into this body, but I’m here and I don’t want to die.”

  “You’re already dead,” Sky snapped.

  “So is Amanda,” Isabelle retorted. The shock had worn off and self-preservation was kicking in. “This is stupid. Just because NR can do this doesn’t mean it can undo it. Evict him! He assaulted a citizen of Cordova.”

  “That citizen killed his crewmate,” Calla Ryndam pointed out. “He will be evicted eventually for his behavior, but not before he sees justice for the crime against his crewmate. We will take you to Building Thirty-seven to await—”

  “Are you kidding?” Sky cried.

  “Deputy Prime Minister, in the name of diplomacy, allow him to stay with his colleagues in the Eastwind until this is resolved,” Chelsea suggested. “Surely you can contain him there.”

  “You can return him to the ship now,” Morrigan suggested. “Him and me. We’ll leave right away.”

  “I can’t leave Amanda,” Danny choked. Morrigan nearly elbowed his ribs, but she got distracted by a fresh tug from Michael.

  “His people will open ours up to a world of resources. They came for our help, but we need theirs just as much,” Jack spoke up.

  “Our people will also seek vengeance for our captivity and the death of our crewmate,” Sky said. “Sending us back to the ship might be safest.”

  “This is hardly fair,” Isabelle huffed, crossing her arms.

  “Look whose mouth you’re speaking with,” Calla snapped.

  “Deputy Prime Minister, if you try to remap this brain, this body will die on the table,” Isabelle argued. “I’m in it. It’s healthy. Amanda is dead.”

  “No. Not dead. I see her,” Michael said, cocking his head.

  Both Calla and Chelsea ignored him. Jack slumped in her chair.

  “Don’t ignore him,” Morrigan cried, breaking out of Danny’s arms and going over to Michael. “He knows what he’s saying. He can see Amanda.”

  “Well, yes, this is her body,” Isabelle huffed, rolling her eyes.

  “He connected telepathically to Amanda the moment she arrived,” Morrigan said, cradling Michael’s face, watching his eyes intently.

  “Why did you not report this before?” Chelsea demanded. Calla spoke over her, both women berating Fisher.

  “I didn’t know before. I barely believe it now,” Jack said, burying her face in her hands.

  “What do you mean?” Morrigan asked, looking desperately at Michael. “She’s alive. Where is she?”

  He looked at Morrigan, forcing the words past his lips. “I see her outside.”

  Morrigan patted his shoulder, encouraging him, not sure what to hope now.

  31

  Tommy’s revelation of abuse sickened them all.

  Despite their technology, the City of Hope was a disgusting place filled with the same criminal inhumanity as the rest of the world. The night was long and made longer by the infrequent updates from within—Amanda’s death and Ian’s betrayal. Then George died and Tommy lost it.

  Tray paced the ward room and sucked on an energy drink, knowing he needed sustenance, but unable to stomach anything solid. Hero sensed something was wrong, and he sat quietly, munching on a bowl of pasta, happy to be with his dad. Saskia sat in the other chair, trying to locate the pipes Tommy had mentioned. Her interrogation of Tommy hadn’t helped fill in too many details. Tommy knew roughly where things were, but he didn’t trust his memory, since his entire friendship with Libby had turned out to be a lie. The locator on Amanda’s Virp hadn’t picked up until he’d taken it outside the city.

  Cordova was determined to remain hidden. Saskia was talking tactics, but she was also talking in circles.

  “We have no way to fight mind control,” Saskia said, repeating the logic she’d already circled through ten times over. “Why would he control Tommy and not anyone else? I have a hard time believing he’d let himself be tortured—let his brother be tortured.”

  “Paper,” Hawk said. “Amanda said they were like paper stamped onto the realm. Maybe clones don’t have the same parts in that realm. Maybe they can’t be controlled like we can.”

  The computer beeped, and Tray swore when he saw the notification. “Moon Pox. That’s what they have. We brought them Moon Pox.”

  He shook his head. He’d suffered Moon Pox—the pain, the fever, and the fear that he wouldn’t survive.

  “A pox?” Hawk asked. “They don’t recognize a simple pox?”

  “Maybe they don’t have poxes in Cordova,” Tray said. “If we brought it here, we brought it to Nola, too. We should warn them.”

  “Well, this is good, right?” Hawk asked. “You recognize the disease. We can give them the cure and they’ll open up the city.”

  “There’s no cure,” Tray said. “There’s a vaccine, but it only works about half the time. And the pox kills.”

  “At least we know more than they do,” Saskia said. “We can tell them about the symptoms, progression, and transmission.”

  “If it’s Moon Pox, why didn’t Morrigan recognize it?” Hawk asked.

  “Under a hybrid’s influence? She’ll be lucky to recognize her own face in the mirror,” Tray sighed. “Nolwazi, time to next scheduled call?”

  “Three hours,” the computer replied.

  “Three hours?” Saskia exclaimed, checking the clock.

  “They’re ten minutes late,” Tray laughed. “Counter reset.”

  “Nolw
azi, send a message to the city,” Tray said. “Tell my brother—”

  “Tray, are you there?” Danny asked. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Danny, I was just about to get upset,” Tray said, trying to keep his snark down so he wouldn’t set a bad example for his son. “Any news on Amanda?”

  “Still dead,” Danny said, his voice weary.

  “George is dead, too,” Tommy said, stumbling in with one of Hawk’s flasks. He hadn’t been drinking, but he’d found the empty flask in the galley and filled it with Sky’s version of lemonade—sugar water with a few drops of lemon mixed in.

  “What are you doing up here?” Tray asked.

  “The rain stopped. Can we have the funeral now?” Tommy asked. They’d discussed burial rights and treatment of the dead. In Quin, cremation was the norm, but Tray had researched the burial process after they lost Corey.

  “We’ll talk to Danny first. Wait here,” Saskia said, pushing Tommy against the wall.

  “George is dead,” Tommy repeated, as if they’d forget.

  “Danny, the virus they have is Moon Pox,” Tray said, turning back to the comm. “Can you see any way of using that information as leverage?”

  “No,” Morrigan said, her face coming on screen in front of Danny’s. She looked as haggard as him. “We can’t let a contagious, deadly disease spread in the name of political leverage.”

  “Morrigan, what do you need to help them fight it?” Saskia asked, leaning over Hero to use the center console to work.

  “Just the vaccine formula and virus genetic profiles,” Morrigan replied. “Their genetic replication tech should be able to make the vaccine quickly. This is something they’d be well-equipped to cure, too. Could change everything for us.”

  “Amanda is dead?” Tommy whispered, pushing off the wall, staring at the projection of Danny and Morrigan. He waved his hand through, and Tray pushed him away.

  “She’s not physically dead,” Morrigan replied. “She just has someone else walking around in her body.”

  “I knew it,” Tommy carped. “I told you. You didn’t believe me.”