Atalan Adventure Pack: Books 4-6

by R. M. Hamrick

  “No wait, stupid. You need to tell Fra— you know what? Ask Frankie to come here.”

  The less-than-ethereal eggshell-white sheet gave the women not much more to go by than if Rose had been invisible. “You know you can make any sort of avatar, right?” Frankie tried. It didn’t hold much weight since she had replicated herself for her own avatar. Frankie wasn’t known for her imagination in either world. While many could imagine themselves wealthy and famous, Frankie couldn’t even imagine paying her lease without using the three-sol grace period.

  “Chill. I’m having an identity crisis, OK? Also, this is not part of this story.”

  Frankie looked around at the small Exty shop. Yes, clearly whatever this was, was not part of the story.

  “I hacked the files for your adoption.”

  “It’s not hacking if you’ve been given access to the system. It’s just…accessing, reading, maybe.”

  “Yes, that’s what I said, ‘hacked.’”

  “Hacking is when you have not been given permission to access the files electronically, and you do so by clearly circumventing the security protocols in place.”

  “Sure, that’s one meaning of ‘hacking.’”

  “Is this going to be another exposit—”

  Words were not immutable. In fact, they were far from it. And as populations spoke out of their collective asses, words became literally and figuratively, and literally their opposite in meaning. Countless sticks in the mud tried to stymie the phenomenon, convinced the definition that existed upon their discovery was the end-all, be-all. For how could it not be, when they’d spent thousands of classroom hours being quizzed on definitions as if they were firm and solid things? Instead, it was just mud. Definitions change. Dictionaries change. But those hours in elementary school, they’d never get back.

  If not that deep-seated resentment, then perhaps it was the bias of personal perspective. Much like drivers going slower than oneself are stupid and those going faster than oneself are maniacs, past and future additions and revisions to official dictionaries did little to stop the sticks, or the mud.

  Fortunately, not even the liquidity of language or its storied dictionaries could eliminate the always clever joke, “If you look up [disparaging word] in the dictionary, you’ll find your face!” In fact, it aided in the delivery of the other always clever joke of, “They took gullible out of the dictionary this year.” Really, the dictionary could just be a facebook of gullibles and sluts.

  “No, look it up! Hacking also now means accessing something without someone’s explicit permission or potential knowledge,” said Rose, happy to be out of the exposition and in the know.

  “But not really,” the stick tried to wedge before giving up. “Wait. What did you find out?”

  “You were adopted.”

  “Yes?”

  “But you weren’t ‘given up’ or anything by a biological parent. You were…well, you are a clone.”

  “A clone of whom? Sossios?”

  “No, as far as I can tell, she’s a clone, too. I sent you a mental image of the document. It was a ‘closed’ cloning, and a lot of the information is redacted, including the DNA source.” Rose’s ghost sheet waved within her astral projection.

  “Why would they redact in their own documents? Why not just create new documents or not document it at all?” Frankie asked.

  The sheet shrugged. “Probably because someone with authority told someone of lesser authority to do it. The lesser had pertinent questions, but had also pretty much given up. The end.”

  Gail clapped.

  “How many clones?” Frankie asked. She could have pulled up a projection of the document inside the Exty office for them all to peruse, but she didn’t think of it.

  “That part’s marked out. Your placement is noted, as is ‘NURFLANT FEMALE-308221’ for the adoption agency. There’s also two shipped off as—get this—twins on planet Drorix 307 and Drorix 307b. One abandoned in front of a Grand Plains Clinic but no planet listed. Same for another—Still Eden Community Hospital. And clearly, there’s pages missing. I’d guess at least twelve.”

  “Wow, will you send that to me?”

  “I already did.”

  “Oh right—I can’t find it….” Frankie’s avatar face pinwheeled with colors, but more like a computer cursor than an emotional roulette wheel. For once. “Oh, no you’re right. Here it is in the spam folder.”

  Neither Frankie nor Rose projected it for ease of access in the room. They didn’t think of it.

  “So Sossios wasn’t lying about the clones. I’m a clone,” Frankie tried out.

  “You’re a clone, Frankie,” said Gail with a That’s the Golden Ticket low punch swing and an odd accent.

  “Thank you for the information, Rose. I’m glad to finally meet you—well, sort of. I mean, I am glad. Never mind. You’ve been really helpful.”

  The sheet gave a one-shoulder shrug of ‘no problemo’ before fading as a mist, then reappearing and exiting via Earth TV Star Trek-style ‘beam me up,’ then reappearing to display the sheet being pulled off to reveal nothing. “Yes, that one,” Rose muttered prior to reappearing and repeating the magic trick reveal exit.

  “She’s the best,” sighed Gail. “Isn’t she the best?”

  “Is she going to get a body, or is it just going to be…blank sheet forever?”

  “No idea.”

  Then there was an awkward moment when they hadn’t immediately left but there was no reason to stay; and it was traditional to say goodbye when leaving but they were both returning to (or really, had remained on) the same ship. They settled for a lazy quarter-wave where the hand tilts at an angle against the very stationary wrist. Then, each speedily exited before seeing how the other person exited.

  ELEVEN

  “I have reviewed the records submitted by Calligan’s Reincarnation Services,” said the judge behind the obfuscating screen in the clear salad bowl of a courtroom. “What is the defense’s stance?”

  Joe-hn stood up. “While the presence of a clone or twin should have been enough for the charges to be dropped, and thus my brother and I provided excellent service and are deserving of all of our fees—” He stared at his client, who clearly had had words with her attorneys. “—the document only further proves that the state has a long way to go before prosecuting these crimes. DNA evidence means nothing if it does not point to the perpetrator.”

  The document in question was a form letter from Calligan’s Reincarnation Services’ office stating a closed cloning had resulted in two subjects, one of whom was surrendered to Trundle In-and-Out on record as NURFLANT FEMALE-308221, and the other of whom was placed by CRS to Earth residents Franklin and Saanvi Chakrabarti. It wasn’t the dozen or so found in the document recovered by Rose, but it was what came of that document when Medow waved it in front of Calligan and threatened to not only use it in court to assure her client would not be charged with anything, but to also recommend an investigation into the purpose behind so many illegal clones.

  “Does either party have anything they’d like to argue? Any newfound evidence rendering this moot? A twist, if anything?” Even for a species who depended on visual color cues to portray emotions, the judge sounded disappointed. Clearly, she had been hoping to play a more critical role, or at least, have more screen time.

  One more time, Frankie’s eyes searched Medow, who sternly repeated through clenched teeth, “As your attorney, I would have to recommend against that.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. Just checking.”

  Frankie had wanted to submit a personal letter outlining the accusations surrounding her past whereabouts and motivations, specifying the complete falsehoods and setting the story straight on those in which she might have had personal involvement. First, because she was rather offended that this list would remain as-is, waiting for more substantiated evidence. She could really help narrow their list. Second, she wanted to explain that if she hadn’t done these crimes, perhaps Sossios Zadra hadn’t eithe
r. And while she wasn’t one to point fingers or jump to conclusions, it did seem fishy that the original DNA owner would clone so many of herself.

  Medow had remained silent when Frankie shared her idea the night before around the workshop table. Medow waited for a long moment to ensure Frankie had expressed the entirety of her thoughts before saying, “As your attorney, I would have to recommend against that.” She then repeated that statement in robo-call monotone until Frankie fled the room. This morning, Medow’s stance had not changed.

  “Well, mevix,” the judge sighed. “I must say, I was really excited to put Sossios Zadra in prison for the fourth time. It’s sort of a rite of passage here on Nurfla. But, since the defendant has clones, we are forced to admit—mostly because it’s been called out, not because we would have done it in the first place—that the state does not have enough evidence to convict at this time. Court is dismissed. Please try not to move the invisible furniture when you trip over it. It takes the janitorial staff several days to line everything up again.”

  Gail clapped.

  No one else clapped.

  “If Rose was here, she’d clap,” muttered Gail as if a second person was the absolute tipping point for applause as a scene closed out.

  #

  Fala and Barbara Jr. returned from the water park, exhausted and ready to play, respectively. Little Barbara Jr. ran laps in the cargo bay, bespectacled and reckless. The augmented reality glasses allowed her to see the cargo bay as a restaurant where she was the cook and server of quintessential meals from a variety of planets. She ran from table to table taking orders, serving dishes, and collecting cash. In the ‘kitchen’ she mimed slicing oxo-loaf into oxo-loafettes, caramelizing fortified pea puffs, soaking desiccated gammon thoraxes, and baking isotonic quiches. Fala and Medow appreciated the game’s success in exercising Barbara Jr. Also, since the game was connected to a super computer network, Barbara Jr.’s efforts combined with other gamers to actually cook and serve dishes in a network of restaurants over the region. IGRL earned went to the girl’s college fund, which would earn near negative interest and afford her one year minus e-books, food, board, and tuition. The cargo bay had been cleared of most sharp objects, or at least they’d been put up against the walls, further establishing the cargo bay as the duller reality. There, Gail’s family collected to say goodbye before departing for Earth, expressing their hopes that it was still there and that humanity hadn’t finally done itself in, which had happened at least once before. Very inconvenient.

  “How was the rest of the trip, dear?” Medow asked her spouse.

  “Much better.”

  “Without me?”

  “No, the planet had their membership in the Planetary Owners Association reinstated. One of the owners, Matt, gave everyone free entry into the park that day. Meanwhile, POA officers swooped in, judged landscaping, analyzed Pantone exteriors, and ticketed beings for being young and fun. You would have loved it.”

  “That does sound satisfying,” admitted Medow. “We have to leave soon. Why don’t you go on and say goodbye to your mom?”

  For the first time since replacing her arms, Gail did not feel Fala flinch as she wrapped hydrostats around her daughter. Gail pulled back slightly to search Fala’s face.

  “Medow told me about the ship. That it’s not yours.”

  “Yes, not yet. It’s mortgaged. Good terms, though,” Gail chuckled nervously. She couldn’t remember if she’d told them she had bought it outright or financed.

  “That’s why you did all these body-mods. You’ve been working on this ship the whole time.” Gail’s face slacked. She was immediately pulled back into the hug as Fala continued, bowing her head and talking into her hair. “I love you, Mom. I’m proud of you. Mommy would have been proud, too. If this is what you want, this is what you want.”

  Gail turned her head toward Medow. She mouthed ‘thank you’ and tasted salty, happy tears that would wreak havoc if she wiped them with her hydrostats. Medow was motioned over for a group hug. Barbara Jr., confused by the concurrence of tears and smiles, dropped her oxo-loaf to receive reassurance.

  A rapid rat-a-tat-tat came and continued to come from the bay door. Gail wiped the tears off her face as her family disbanded.

  “Mevix,” she muttered. Barbara Jr. put her hands over her ears and screamed. “Ska— sorry.” Gail would have to put a quarter of an Earth’s whole unit of currency’s equivalent into the swear jar.

  Head tilted to the ceiling as she always unnecessarily did, she asked, “Compi, who’s at the door?”

  Now, a half unit of Earth’s….

  *Gail, open the door. It’s Jerry!* Frankie bellowed over the intercom. Gail could hear a bit of panic in Patav’s voice in the background.

  In four bounds aided by her exoskeleton pants—and also, because the ship wasn’t that large—Gail was at the door, wrenching it open. A small yellowed figure scurried inside, yelping, “Close it! Close it! Let’s get out of here. Fire ze missiles!”

  If it hadn’t already gotten tiresome, Gail would have cursed again in confusion.

  Jerry gave a little start and a squeak as Frankie ran towards her, before the yellow alien recognized the captain. “Sossios is after me! We need to LEAVE!”

  “No, I don’t think so. It has to be a misunderstanding,” said Frankie even as she made her way to the exit.

  “I don’t think there’s any misunderstanding about it. I was a hero and I put THE GALAXY’S MOST WANTED behind bars, and you just let her loose—just let her loose. She’s going to kill me.” Jerry shook inside her wool sweaters.

  “That doesn’t make any sense, though. She—” Frankie decided against finishing her sentence when something detonated against the ship. With so many adults in such a rickety structure, the swear jar was getting quite full.

  Frankie, not wanting to get blown out of a chance to get blown out of the air, opened the door and waved in surrender. “There’s children and an old lady in here! Stop!”

  There wasn’t any additional noise besides the ringing in Frankie’s ears, so Frankie closed the ship’s door behind her. The space dust settled around Sossios Zadra in the same power stance as her notice in the post office. Jewelry, face paint, and body suit. Smoke rose, possibly from the cannon of a weapon resting on her shoulder, but an argument could be made that Sossios was simply that mad. The red of her skin pulsated like she would burst from the inside.

  This was Sossios Zadra.

  This was THE GALAXY’S MOST WANTED.

  “WHAT THE MEVIX!” Frankie shouted, which was not advised, by any general sort of narration, but Frankie wasn’t scared of herself.

  Sossios scoffed, appeared to consider for a moment, then turned heel and started walking off.

  Frankie didn’t know why that made her angry, but it did. And when Sossios used the butt end of her weapon to knock open the door to a nearby Asphodel Flyer and step inside, Frankie stomped off after her.

  Asphodel Flyers were a size class lower than Xaviers, meant for a more personal flight experience. The ship sported sleek silver curves and a black slipstream-style paint job. Inside, it was as dumpy as a salvage-titled Xavier-class ship. Frankie stood in the entry and waited for eyes to adjust. She didn’t know if the ship had been powered off and these were the emergency lights, or if the manufacturers had decided it would look better if it couldn’t be seen.

  The engines fired up and Frankie jumped inside. The interior seemed to rattle within the sleek hull as if it wasn’t properly secured, and the lights dimmed even further—apparently not the emergency lights. The back of the ship was the living quarters for reportedly a crew of three, but intended for one. For success and independence went appendage-in-appendage all over the galaxy, except for those species who actually found value in each other. Frankie moved toward the bridge, which was more of a cockpit where three seats could be placed if needed, but according to the manufacturers, “Do you really need this nice of a ship, if there’s three of you?” The ships were often rep
ossessed.

  Sossios was in the chair—which also did not fit her—doing pre-flight checks and changing settings to her liking with her right hand, and with her left had the cannon pointed at the entrance, where Frankie stood dead center. It turned out there was plenty of time to react to someone approaching an automatic door. If she survived, she would not be telling the others.

  “You didn’t do these things!” Frankie stated as she reached out and pushed the cannon out of her face like it was a toy that squirted water, but very weakly and was also out of water.

  Both the action and odd statement seemed to confuse Sossios. She scoffed for the second time today before rolling her eyes and tossing her weapon off to the side. It was outstanding Frankie would be so cavalier simply because they were the same. Really, it must have surprised her as much as it surprised Frankie.

  Frankie tried again, “You don’t have to do these things. I’ve got things on that list too, but they’re exaggerated and while I sometimes break the rules, it’s for good reason. I’m not just…a criminal.”

  Sossios turned in the chair to look at Frankie like she knew better. “I do have reasons. That woman put me in prison. She’s not going to do that again. And I need a ship. This is a ship. Owner is probably underwater with the loan. They’ll be happy I took it off their hands….” Sossios pulled a hand off the controls. She tested the tackiness of her fingers and gave them a whiff. “…sorry, their reticulating flesh.”

  “You shouldn’t assume appendages,” lectured Frankie.

  “I hate you,” said Sossios.

  She hadn’t appreciated Frankie’s good deed at all. At first chance, she’d tried to maim and plunder, and she had the nerve to rationalize it?

  “You’re better than this.”

  “No, I’m not…no, we’re not. You know the original? Also a criminal. A bad guy. It’s in our DNA. I’ve met more than half of our copies. Not one of them has the ‘misunderstood goodness’ you want to attach to me and to yourself. Leave, before I make you leave.”