Heir Ascendant

by Matthew S. Cox

  Maya draped herself over the table and exhaled. That was too close. Once she caught her breath, she hurried to her bedroom to grab the bag and carried it to Vanessa’s room. At the back of the woman’s closet, a small door led into a sub-closet where a handful of lab coats hung on a rack in front of a metal cabinet door.

  She pulled the small fridge open and grinned at glass shelves with medicine samples. She gasped at a ten-pack of Fade vaccinations, unable to help herself but read the box. The label confirmed one application was good for life. Exposure to Fade after a vac shot worked like a re-inoculation. The people at home could use that, so into the bag it went. The cabinet only had three bottles of Xenodril tablets, and everything else in there consisted of either dangerous vanity meds or mildly useful things like diarrhea cures.

  The pills rattled as she dropped the three bottles of Xeno into the bag. Even if they couldn’t get anything out of Parkville, she’d make sure Ashley and the others at that Fade Ward got Xeno. Maya headed out to the hallway and stared at the living room for a few minutes, debating between going barefoot or wearing heels. Neither seemed like a good idea. Heels would slow her down and a girl her age in them would attract attention, increasing the chances of someone recognizing her. Until she reached the prison, that would be bad. She pulled off the sweater and ran back to the laundry machine to reclaim the black tee shirt Diego gave her. Maya Oman would never wear something like that, but at least the basic black matched her leggings. The nightdress went into the bag too. She’d still need it for sleeping.

  The sweater almost went flying, but she couldn’t bring herself to chuck cashmere. The bag had room.

  Maya took one final look around the place and didn’t feel anything but a twinge of fear at the memory of Moth threatening her with a gun. The only emotions the walls here held included that terror, loneliness, and anger at being a prisoner. She padded to the elevator and hit the button.

  “Maya, you do not have permission to go outside.”

  Shit. The same thing it always said. She was really locked in. A fist pound on the button repeated the same message. Blind want for her real mother triggered a frenetic button mashing fit that accomplished nothing.

  “Maya, you do not have permission to go outside. Please behave yourself.”

  She fumed while pacing in circles for a few minutes before getting an idea and storming over to the patio door, which opened. She pulled it aside and walked out onto warm, wet concrete. A loop of a ladder came up and over the edge on the far side of the helipad. Maya ran to it and caught herself on the bars while peering over. The thin ladder led down three stories to a sub-roof littered with boxy machines and ventilation ports. Near the base of the ladder, a plain grey door stood next to a card-reader box. No other ladder seemed to exist, meaning the only way down without a helicopter would be free-falling ninety stories. She glared at the Ascendant office tower less than two miles away, a spire of white and cyan stabbing the clouds. Maya hated every panel of glass in the place.

  “No…” She sniffled. “No. Mom…”

  She ran inside, bag bouncing against her back, and skidded to a halt in front of the elevator. Lying to people was easy, but to an AI? What possible excuse… She dropped the bag and hurried to Vanessa’s bedroom. A quick climb and shimmy down the vents brought her once again to the office. Since no one had kicked in the door and hauled her away, the terminal lockdown had to be a local failsafe triggered by extra security on those specific files that blocked them from being added to an e-mail.

  She crept up to the desk and poked the terminal, almost jumping up and down and clapping when it presented a password prompt. The recorder lay on the rug where she’d dropped it yesterday, and the spliced verbal password once again let her in to the system.

  I’m an idiot. I should’ve done this first.

  Her hands moved like an orchestral conductor from screen to screen. In the scheduling and appointment calendar, she created an entry for a public relations/goodwill photo shoot at the Arlington Rehabilitation Center where they held Genna, and set it for noon. Two seconds after she hit save, a text message popped up.

  ‹Nice.›

  She stared at the black box with white letters.

  ‹It’s ZI. I’m in. Still want help?›

  Tears of joy gathered at the corners of her eyes. She typed ‘yes,’ but the letters didn’t appear anywhere.

  ‹C U there. Saw what you did with the Xeno. I buried the prod.ctl file a little deeper and spoofed the source to a terminal in the plant. That should keep anyone from noticing.›

  Maya blinked, and typed, ‹ok, thx!›

  She locked the terminal and ran out, not bothering to secure the door. At the elevator, she grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and pushed the button.

  “Maya, for the last time, you are not―”

  “I’ve got a photo session today. Mother can’t make it… again.” She tried to sound annoyed. “I’m going down to meet the driver.”

  “Appointment confirmed.” The elevator slid open.

  She hopped in before it could change its mind and poked the button for the parking garage. The elevator felt too much like a jail cell for her liking over the next two minutes. She shivered by the time the doors opened, though that could’ve been from the frigid floor and overpowered air-conditioning.

  The parking deck held the summer warmth and chased away the shakes. She kept her head down and walked straight to the exit ramp. Daylight made getting spotted more likely, though she didn’t look like a ragamuffin anymore and would blend in like any other Citizen kid, unless someone questioned her lack of shoes. Two cross streets later, she joined a line waiting for a NBSZ Transit bus. The post-commuter crowd was thin, and only a few people took notice of her.

  “Morning,” said a man.

  She didn’t look up. “Hi. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  “Fair enough.” He edged away.

  For about ten minutes, she stood at the curb, fidgeting with the bag strap, wobbling her knee, and trying to force time to move faster with her mind. Eventually, a white-and-cyan bus labeled ‘New Baltimore Sanctuary Zone Transit’ rolled up and stopped with a wash of hot air that rolled over her feet. She hopped on, hurried to a side-facing seat about halfway down, and pulled her computer out of the bag. With the screen opened all the way, it took on the shape of a tablet, and she used it to hide her face as much as open a map of the Sanc. She plotted a route to the prison complex, pulled up the bus’s travel path, and superimposed them. They called it a rehabilitation center… probably the same way they called the Fade area an ‘integration’ ward. She frowned.

  The bus drove on. Every so often, someone waved or smiled at her. Maya had to work to hide her nerves and sound disinterested with each “hello” or admonition about talking to strangers. It took twenty-eight minutes for the bus to reach the closest point on its circular route to the Arlington Rehabil―prison.

  Maya hopped off on another street lined with high-rise buildings and advertising banners. At twenty after eleven, the food carts had begun to emerge from wherever they hid in anticipation of a legion of office drones seeking safe haven from the horribleness of their cafeteria food. Since anyone could eat whatever they wanted and fix anything with a pill (that had a one-in-sixty chance of killing them), unhealthy food abounded. Most of it smelled nauseating. Maya spun in place until the navigation client in the computer figured out which way she faced, then set off at a fast walk.

  Two weeks ago, if anyone told her she’d have to walk three-point-one miles, she’d have pitched a whining, screaming fit. Compared to the eleven or so she’d managed to the Spread, the trip to the prison would be nothing. While on the warm side, the constant fresh (ish) breeze and clear sky made being outside pleasant. If not for the weight of what she planned to do on her mind, she might’ve thought it fun.

  Perhaps looking like she knew where she was going and not seeming lost or scared kept people from bothering her. Perhaps no one gave a shit. M
aya didn’t care why. This designer body of hers took to physical activity far faster than she’d imagined possible. She stopped at red lights, darted across a few intersections, and followed the little arrow on her handheld computer. Around 11:48, the high-rises gave way to a one-block area where an imposing white building with narrow barred windows took up most of the space, plus its yard.

  Maya leaned her head back and stared at the clouds until an onrush of nerves subsided. “Okay. It’s show time.”

  aya ducked into the closest alley, out of sight from the street, and stripped down to her underpants. She stuffed the t-shirt and leggings into the bag before pulling out the shiny teal dress and wriggling into it. After wiping sand and grit off her feet, she stepped into the sparkly, matching high-heeled shoes. While squatting over the bag, she rummaged a small makeup case. A dash of teal eye shadow, a tweak of indigo mascara, and a quick swipe of bright green lipstick later, she repacked everything and zipped the bag closed.

  She stood for a moment fussing with her hair, pulling it as straight as she could with only her fingers for a comb. Blueberries won’t care. With her nylon bag perched on her shoulder like a special operations commando’s version of a purse, Maya strutted out into view, heading for the front gates of the prison compound. Halfway across the street, she cringed at forgetting the white elbow-length gloves and earrings that went with that dress, but she’d gone too far to go back now. And again, the blueberries wouldn’t notice her fashion crime.

  When she arrived at the front gate, she stopped and glanced around with a faux-irritated scowl, tapping her foot. A camera overhead swiveled toward her. Maya looked left and right at the empty road, gestured in a frustrated wave, and performed an exaggerated eye roll before storming past the gate and crossing the prison’s courtyard.

  She headed for the door labeled ‘visitor center.’ By the time she reached it, three Authority Officers in cloth jumpsuits had come outside bearing expressions of confusion and worry. Maya took deep breaths in her nose. I can do this. I acted like a robot with that caveman pointing a giant gun at my face. I let a fu―Mom doesnt want me saying that one―damn roach crawl on my foot without freaking. I can do this.

  Maya walked up to them, keeping her fear in a tight little ball at the bottom of her gut, and glared at their nameplates. “Of course they’re all late. Has anyone else gotten here yet?”

  “Uhh,” said Officer Cole. “Miss?”

  “Unbelievable.” Maya let off a heavy sigh. “I get dragged out of bed at six thirty in the morning.” She shook clenched fists on either side of her head. “Everyone’s nagging the crap out of me, worried that I’m going to be late, and no one else is here? Screw this. I’m going home. One of you get me a car.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Officer Edwards. “Miss Oman?”

  “Oh, great. That figures. Let me guess, no one in marketing bothered to tell you?” She waved her arms about with emphatic gestures while continuing to rant. “There’s supposed to be some kind of public relations thing here. One of the nitwits in PR came up with this great idea. I’m supposed to smile and pose with your staff and maybe a low-risk inmate or two. Better make sure they’re trustworthy. If something happens to me, Vanessa is going to want asses.”

  “Maybe we could get a few of the guys to put on the orange instead,” said Cole. “That way, there’s no chance of anything going wrong.”

  “There’s too many people out there going over every image to twist things out of control. They’ll see an officer’s face on a supposed prisoner and go crazy.” Maya shook her head. “Andy said he found one woman here who’s in for stealing food. Helps she’s photogenic too. She looked kinda scary, but you can keep me safe.”

  “Who?” asked Edwards.

  Maya blinked and pressed her free hand to her chest. “You’re asking me? How should I know who you’ve got shut up in here? I saw a goddamned picture for three seconds. No one told me her damn name. How many dark-skinned women do you have on food theft charges? They said she was picked up like a week ago. All I know is she’s got fat dreads with a bunch of beads and shit in them.”

  They muttered amongst themselves about how best to deal with this situation. It sounded too much like they wanted to verify everything first.

  “Hey. Since you guys need time, and none of the idiots are here yet…” She softened her expression to a childish smile. “Can I have a tour? I’ve never seen the inside of a Rehabilitation Center before. You must be pretty brave to be around bad guys all the time. Maybe this ad campaign will make people sign up to be officers.”

  “Cole,” said Edwards. “You’re it.”

  The look on the man’s face could’ve melted steel. He probably considered it gambling with his career, freedom, or even life to interact with the daughter of Vanessa Oman directly. He forced a pleasant smile and opened the door for her. Oh, if only she could’ve put that fear into Baxter when he’d hit Sarah.

  Maya walked in, nose in the air, looking around as if she owned the place and everyone in it. Her heels clicked, echoing off the walls. “It’s cleaner than I expected.”

  “Oh, yeah. Part of the rehabilitation process is instilling a good work ethic in the detainees. We don’t have cleaning staff. The detainees do it.”

  Officer Cole ignored a case full of plaques and awards and headed for a hallway three-quarters white with a dark grey strip closer to the floor. The facility looked like a hospital… with bars. Motivational nonsense slogans appeared every few feet like: “This is not the destination but the start,” “Your future is in your hands,” and “Opportunity is everywhere.” Officer Cole led her to a room at the distant end, a few feet away from an airlock-style security gate composed of thick bars. She doubted even Moth could have broken it. A tremble caused her to wobble on her raised heels. The mere sight of such a barrier made Genna seem so much farther away. Maya shivered, clueless what she’d do if the blueberries didn’t go for the posing with inmates thing…

  Cole pushed the door open and came close to touching her back to guide her in. He pulled his hand away from her like a hot stove and smiled. Maya stepped in, acting impressed by a plain grey-walled room covered in large monitor screens. A weary-looking man in his early thirties and a drab blue jumpsuit sat behind a complicated console. Other than a baton, he didn’t appear to be armed.

  The man looked over. “What the hell is this? Little young for soliciting.”

  “I’m in a good mood today,” said Maya. “I won’t tell Vanessa that you just called me a prostitute. One more like that and you’ll be scraping shit out of the Fade ward toilets.”

  “Uhh, watch it, Paulie. This is M.O.”

  “No shit. What’s she doing here?” He returned his attention to the console.

  Images on the larger wall-mounted screens cycled among inmate cells, viewed from ceiling-mounted cameras. The rooms looked tiny, one person per holding cell. All wore bright orange smocks and plastic shoes. Some paced, some slept, a few pleasured themselves in flagrant disregard of the cameras, and three happened to be on the toilet.

  “Some kind of recruiting PR campaign. Just waiting on the rest of the circus to get here. Miss Oman requested a tour.”

  Paulie shrugged. “Mmm.”

  “This is one of four control stations in the facility,” said Cole. “From here, we can monitor everything that goes on in Pod C. Cameras, door security, everything. We can even flush their toilets.” He chuckled.

  Pod C! Mom is in C! “Wow.” She went wide-eyed and leaned over the console. “That’s amazing.”

  The screens on the desk in front of Captain Drab showed maps of this quarter of the building, overlaid with status indicators for the various locks on cell doors and mid-hallway gates. Other onscreen widgets adjusted climate control, lights, alarms, tranquilizer gas, and fire-suppression systems. She looked up with a false grin. Before she could say something vapid like ‘that’s so cool,’ Genna appeared on one of the large monitors hanging from the wall, sitting on the side of a priso
n bed with her head in her hands. Though no tears showed apparent, her body language said enough.

  After four seconds, the image changed to a huge man doing pushups.

  “Can you go back on that screen?” Maya pointed.

  Paulie tapped at the console and Genna reappeared.

  Maya studied the image. The sight of her mother looking so hopeless stabbed her like a knife in the chest, but she kept her voice sounding normal. “I’m sure that’s the woman I was supposed to take pictures with. Andy said she was determined no threat. She looks sad. Can I go talk to her?”

  “Isn’t that the one they think’s with the Brigade?” Paulie tapped at one of the screens and a familiar record came up. “Huh? Food theft? Hah. Guess she’s got a rich daddy or thick knee pads. I could swear she’s the one Lewis said tried to shoot her.”

  “Do you believe anything a pilot says? Lewis didn’t seem confident on the lineup.” Cole shrugged. “Not my call. I am not risking my ass on cheering up some Orange who’s feeling sorry for themselves. They should’ve thought about that before they did whatever. Paulie, watch her a sec will ya? Gotta hit the head.”

  Cole scooted out before the man could finish yelling, “Don’t you dare.”

  Maya’s chest tightened with panic. It could be a matter of minutes before everything fell to pieces. She had to do something now. Console. Screens. Fire extinguisher. Armory cabinet. Bathroom. Whoa. She looked at the metal door on the wall labeled ‘Armory.’

  “What’s that do?” She pointed at a red button on the console.

  “Nothing you need to worry about. Go sit down and keep quiet.” Paulie didn’t bother looking at her and gestured at a bench under the monitors, right in front of his desk.

  She bit back the urge to make a snide remark and walked around to the seat. He seemed not to pay the least bit of attention to her. A change of light on his face and chest gave away that he’d switched screens as soon as she couldn’t see anymore. Hopefully, it’s porn and he’s not paying any attention to me…