Veklocks

by S. H. Jucha

  There was one challenge, but it was a small one. Sika needed a place to sleep. She returned to a section of the tunnels that held long, horizontal storage cabinets. The drawers were two meters in length and a meter deep. She opened one where she’d hidden some material and was relieved to find her stuff still there.

  Sika spread out a tarp over the dirty, grimy bottom of one of the drawers. Then she opened a thin, rolled pallet on top of the tarp. Finally, a thick blanket completed her makeshift bed.

  Jumping up into her hiding place, she tucked into bed and lowered the door. A pallet corner prevented the drawer’s upper-hinged door from closing all the way.

  Sika’s plan was to keep to a schedule. She’d pretend to work the third shift. She’d sleep most of the day, emerge, clean up, eat, and walk determinedly through the tunnels touching her cap to those she passed.

  * * * *

  Liam struggled awake. He rolled over and grabbed his comm unit. It was Cecilia, which meant at this time in the morning it was important.

  “Liam,” Cecilia said urgently, “I was notified a little while ago that Luna has escaped, and Kevin Sorenson is dead.”

  “Where are you now?” Liam asked, as he sat up in bed.

  “I’m in admin,” Cecilia replied. “Miguel is here too.”

  “How about the El?” Liam asked.

  “I’ve checked the recordings,” Cecilia replied. “It’s been less than an hour, and there’s been only one descent. No one even came close to matching her physical type.”

  “What security do you have on it now?” Liam queried.

  “Miguel took a team down there and set them up,” Cecilia explained. “They’ve got DADs and orders to check everyone, no exceptions. Luna might be great at disguises, but she can’t change her DNA.”

  “Have you tracked her movements?” Liam asked.

  “I called Lori into work,” Cecilia replied. “She’s been running the station’s vid logs. Luna ran into a public facility and came out with a bag. Then we followed her to a maintenance door.”

  “I thought that loophole was closed,” Liam demanded rather irately.

  “It was, sir,” Cecilia replied. She figured Liam was allowed to lose his temper. He’d been woken early in the morning to receive the worst news of his short career as commandant.

  “Luna used a second, dead worker’s badge,” Cecilia continued. “I’ve got another tech querying the station’s entire personnel records. He’s comparing the list of active maintenance badges to the list of dead.”

  “That sounds really strange to hear,” Liam commented. “I’ll be there shortly.”

  -29-

  Imian’s Revolution

  “Why don’t you stay on the station with me?” Sasha asked Imian plaintively, as they walked the station’s main corridor.

  When the Belle sailed, Sasha insisted on remaining aboard the JOS, and Harbour secured two side-by-side cabins for Imian and her.

  “I can’t. I’ve got something important to do for Harbour,” Imian replied.

  “Then I’ll go with you. I can help,” Sasha insisted.

  Imian knew Sasha well enough by now to know that if he didn’t explain, she’d persist until he told her anyway.

  “I’m going to talk to downsiders about the referendum, the presidency, and the need to support topsiders,” Imian said.

  “I can help with that,” Sasha persisted.

  “You don’t understand,” Imian said, gently grasping Sasha’s shoulders. “People who do what I’m going to be doing … they disappear.”

  “Disappear?” Sasha queried.

  “Disappear,” Imian reiterated. “One moment they’re there, and the next moment they’re gone. That’s what security does for a family.”

  “They kill people?” Sasha asked in disbelief.

  “That’s how the families keep absolute control,” Imian explained. “Who do you think tried to kill Harbour and Jessie?”

  Sasha’s volatile temper threatened to escape her control, which was dangerous for anyone near her. She grasped at Lindsey’s teaching. Closing her eyes, she practiced a breathing technique until she mastered her emotion.

  Opening her eyes, Sasha said, “I never thought about these kinds of things. After I was freed, I didn’t want to think about the domes and downsiders. I was happy to enjoy developing my power and helping older empaths recover control of their gates.”

  Sasha stopped where she was, spotted a public bench, and sat down on it.

  “This sucks vacuum,” Sasha complained.

  Imian sat beside Sasha. He remained quiet, unable to think of something to say.

  Just as quickly as Sasha had become angry and then depressed, she buoyed up.

  “Okay, if you’re going downside without me, we need to be able to talk,” Sasha declared. “Do you have a comm unit?”

  “No. Most of the privileged young don’t bother,” Imian admitted. To Sasha’s questioning frown, he added, “We don’t want our parents and their security to know where we’re going or partying.”

  “Well, we’re getting comm units,” Sasha stated definitively.

  “We need coin,” Imian noted. “I don’t have that either.” In the face of Sasha’s glare, he held up his hands in protest. “Everywhere I went, I just asked for things. They were given to me, and the family was charged.”

  “We’ll talk to Harbour,” Sasha said, jumping off the bench and hauling Imian with her.

  Along the route to Harbour’s cabin, where they hoped to find her, they passed security.

  “I’ve another idea,” Sasha exclaimed, and she made a hard turn into security’s lobby.

  “You have to stop yanking on me,” Imian complained.

  “Sorry,” Sasha said and released his arm.

  “May I help you?” an officer asked.

  “We’re here to see the commandant,” Sasha said, as she walked past the front desk.

  The officer leapt out of her chair and hurried to block the teenagers’ paths.

  “Halt,” Cecilia snapped, and all three individuals froze. “Sasha Garmenti, how I can help you?” she asked pleasantly.

  The mention of the powerful empath’s name had the young officer retreating slowly to her desk.

  Sasha noted the movement and was secretly pleased.

  Imian saw it too, and it underlined what Sasha had once told him. People might pretend to like her, but in reality, they feared her.

  “Are you important?” Sasha asked Cecilia.

  “I’m Lieutenant Lindstrom, second in command to the commandant. I’m important,” Cecilia replied.

  “Good. I’ve questions, and I need answers,” Sasha declared.

  “Come with me to my office, and I’ll provide you with answers to your questions, if I can,” Cecilia requested.

  When everyone was seated, Cecilia spread her hands to Sasha.

  “We need comm units,” Sasha said.

  Cecilia glanced at Imian, who waved a hand in negation, and said, “It’s complicated.”

  “I see the problem,” Cecilia said. “Without a comm unit, you can’t access coin.”

  “Then I need to see Harbour to request that she purchase the comm units,” Sasha reasoned.

  “You’re a resident of the Belle, Sasha, you have coin,” Cecilia explained. “Do I have permission to access your account?”

  Sasha shrugged, and Cecilia requested an audible answer. When Cecilia received it, she entered the JOS financial system. Sasha’s account setup had never been completed. It awaited the teenager’s interaction.

  Cecilia had Sasha sit in her chair, and she guided the young girl through the process.

  “Now touch the device beneath my monitor … the dark box,” Cecilia instructed. “That’s a DAD. It’ll record your DNA sequence and be used to protect your account.”

  When the monitor beeped, it confirmed that the setup process was complete.

  “Now you can see the coin in your account, Sasha,” Cecilia said.

  Sasha st
ared at the monitor. She could read the words and the numbers, but none of it meant anything to her. Her face crumbled and tears welled in her eyes.

  Cecilia threw her arms around the teenager’s shoulders.

  “I’m stupid,” Sasha declared angrily, snuffling back the urge to cry.

  “No, you’re not,” Cecilia admonished. “There’s a difference between uneducated and unable to learn. You can take classes and catch up.”

  Sasha wiggled, and Cecilia released her.

  “What does this mean?” Sasha asked, pointing at the monitor.

  Cecilia examined the balance and laughed. She laid a comforting hand on Sasha’s shoulder, and said, “It means you’ve plenty of coin.”

  Cecilia requisitioned two comm units and helped Sasha purchase them. After they were registered, Cecilia spent an hour showing the young people the basic operations. Immediately after their training, they touched their devices together in the transfer mode, and their IDs were exchanged and added to their contact lists.

  “A question, Lieutenant,” Imian asked. “Can this comm unit be traced?”

  Imian’s serious expression captured Cecilia’s attention. “Traced in what way?” she asked.

  “Can someone locate my position by this device?” Imian asked.

  “Security can in an emergency or if you’re a suspect and we have the Review Board’s authority,” Cecilia explained. “Anyone else must know your comm unit’s ID to be able to access its location.”

  “So, if I don’t share this device like we just did, then it can’t be used against me?” Imian requested for clarity.

  “Well, if you know another person’s comm ID and you call them, then they learn your ID code,” Cecilia replied. Her answers seemed to satisfy Imian, but Cecilia had a feeling she should ask him additional questions. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the opportunity.

  “Thank you,” Sasha said. She stood, kissed Cecilia on the cheek, and sent the lieutenant a generous wave of appreciation.

  Imian regarded Cecilia’s glazed expression in the wake of Sasha’s exit.

  “It’s a heady feeling, isn’t it?” Imian asked with a grin. Then he followed Sasha.

  Outside security in the station’s main corridor, Sasha held up her comm unit to Imian. “Now you can go downside, but you call me every night. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Imian replied. He received a fierce hug from Sasha, who then whirled and walked away. He had nothing to do but gather his meager belongings, surrender the cabin, as Jessie taught him to do, and head downside.

  * * * *

  Imian had only to wait for a little while before the next El drop. Fortunately, he didn’t know anyone aboard the car, which allowed him to be alone with his thoughts. He used the time to wrap his mind around what he had to do and how he needed to act.

  Exiting the El, Imian caught a shared e-trans to his house. He was careful to keep his comm unit hidden. The greeting by his father’s security and staff was enthusiastic. A quarter of an hour later, Idrian burst through the front door and hugged him.

  Father and son spent the rest of the day and much of the evening discussing the events that Imian experienced since his accident.

  “You’ve changed,” Idrian commented to his son, inadvertently echoing Sasha’s observation.

  “A lot’s happened,” Imian replied, offering no further explanation.

  “I understand you made a friend,” Idrian said offhand.

  It didn’t surprise Imian that his farther knew of his relationship with Sasha. A frequent subject during meals was often the value of information and the need to collect it through any means necessary.

  “We’ve business together tomorrow,” Idrian said. “We’re visiting the JOS and getting you a comm unit.”

  Imian dug into his vest, which overlaid the skins that had been loaned him. He pulled out his device and displayed it for his father. “I have one,” he said. “I thought it would be useful for voting.”

  Idrian beamed at his son. “That’s excellent forethought on your part. I’m proud of you to have thought of that after all you’ve been through.”

  Imian was embarrassed. He didn’t like deceiving his father, but his desire to support the topsiders was greater.

  The evening meal ended on a congenial note and another hug from his father. Imian couldn’t remember the last time when he’d felt his father’s arms around him so often.

  Alone in his room, Imian opened his comm unit. There was the singular ID in his contact list, and he stared at it for many long minutes.

  I’ve a friend, a true friend, Imian thought. It was a novelty for him.

  Finally, Imian touched the contact icon, and Sasha instantly answered. The next two hours passed swiftly for the friends, and Imian was happy again.

  The following morning, Imian dressed, ate, and sought out his contemporaries. Within the spate of several visits, he knew it was a mistake. They weren’t interested in what had happened to him, and they certainly didn’t care to discuss the referendum or the possibilities of a new government.

  Imian wandered home in a disillusioned state. He chose to walk rather than take an e-trans, and pedestrians stared at him in surprise. When he became aware of the odd looks his appearance engendered, he took stock of his clothes. The skins were gone. In their place were the outlandish fashions of what felt like a lifetime ago.

  A clothing shop was across the ped-path, and Imian wove through the e-trans and e-cart traffic to reach it. The proprietress seemed shocked to see him.

  Imian spent the next hour picking out and trying on clothes more suitable to successful vendors who worked for the family businesses. He dressed in a set of clothes and indicated the woman should charge his family.

  “I’ll wrap up your purchases, including the clothes you wore,” the woman said.

  “Just what I bought, please,” Imian replied. “You can recycle or sell the others.”

  Afterwards, Imian stopped an e-trans, dumped his packages in the back, and gave the vehicle a destination and a priority code. He left a perplexed shopkeeper behind him.

  Through Imian’s brief interactions earlier in the day, he did learn that his acquaintances now possessed comm devices. The reason was obvious. The families wanted the plebiscite proposal to pass. Orders had been given, and votes were to be registered in favor of forming a new government.

  The realization that a fight was looming for dominance over Pyre galvanized Imian. He arrived home, carried his packages to his room, and caught another e-trans. His new destination was an agri-dome.

  Years ago, as a ten year old, Imian wandered into an agri-dome without permission. He met a foreman, who was kind to him and showed him around the fields. That relationship lasted until Imian was thirteen before his father unceremoniously ended it.

  Imian exited the e-trans, and the vehicle silently returned to its programmed route.

  Unlike the original planting in soil, Imian found the dome was layered high with troughs that held fertilized water, which fed the hydroponic beds.

  Wandering through the rows, Imian searched for his friend.

  “Imian Tuttle?” asked a voice, which turned Imian around.

  “Noel Gunderson, how are you?” Imian asked pleasantly.

  “I’m doing well, Imian,” Noel replied. “What brings you to my domain?”

  “I wanted to talk to you. Do you have time for me?” Imian asked.

  “Certainly, I do,” Noel replied, and he led Imian to a small, neat administrator’s shed.

  “Water?” Noel asked.

  “Thanks,” Imian said, accepting the cup.

  “I was sorry to hear about your accident,” Noel said, “but it looks like the aliens did you proud.”

  “It was an incredible experience that started after I woke up,” Imian replied.

  “So, what do you need?” Noel asked.

  “Do you have a comm unit?” Imian asked.

  “Sure. I’ve had one since I was nineteen,” Noel said. “Needed it for
business.”

  “Were you requested to vote in favor of the plebiscite’s proposal?” Imian asked.

  “Yes. Is this a test, Imian?” Noel asked. He was suddenly on alert as to why Imian sought him out.

  “No,” Imian replied. “I understand why these questions might make you uncomfortable. I ask you to remember the young boy who you were so pleasant to years ago.”

  “And that you’re not the son of Idrian Tuttle, is that it?” Noel suggested dubiously.

  “I can be both,” Imian replied. He searched for a way to broach the dangerous subject, and he decided to be blunt. “Did you vote?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Noel replied cautiously. His anxiety heightened, and he thought to end the conversation. When he looked at Imian, he saw his father, Idrian Tuttle. However, he also saw the young boy who was fascinated by the green of the crops and exhibited uncharacteristic civility for a family’s child.

  “How did you vote?” Imian asked.

  “The way I was ordered,” Noel replied. “What’s this all about, Imian?”

  Imian took a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. “It’s about a revolution,” he said. “Are you interested?”

  Noel stared at Imian for a long time. It was evident that something profound had redirected the boy. But their risky conversation had just taken a turn toward the dark side.

  “Why would a family son be contemplating revolution?” Noel ventured.

  “Maybe the domes need one. Maybe Pyre needs it,” Imian returned. Then he waited. He envisioned Noel getting up and leaving. Worse, Noel might share this conversation with his father.

  “What kind of revolution did you have in mind?” Noel asked.

  Imian hoped Noel Gunderson would be his first recruit in a war against the families’ tyranny. They talked on and off over a period of a few days. In the meantime, the plebiscite was decided. There was overwhelming support for an election.

  The question on everyone’s mind was: What was the preference of those who voted for the new government? Were they in favor of the topsiders’ ascendancy or that of the downsiders?

  Imian felt it was time to inform Noel of his broader plan, but the agri-dome foreman was ahead of him.