Dragon's Ark

by D Scott Johnson

  “I am extremely sorry, but I must attend to critical business.” Her threads had been together for so long it stung to pull them apart. The pain that had been lurking around the corners of her mind tore onto center stage. “I have a meeting with someone. I can’t cancel it or be late.”

  But she already was late. This was a disaster.

  “Wait,” Mike said. “Can we meet again after you’re done? How can we reach you?”

  She quickly hacked together a Weibo realmspot and sent him the address. “Use this. Please, I must leave you now; I can’t be late for a meeting with my father.”

  They both said, “Your father?” and she was gone.

  It was definitely a day of firsts: a brother, a Westerner who spoke Mandarin and Sichaunese, a free unduplicate, a hostage rescue, and now Helen was on Weibo. Weibo! The stuck-up ice princess using a social realmspace. Oh, how her classmates at the academy would’ve laughed at that.

  Father required her to be completely present in their meetings, otherwise she would’ve left some threads with Kim and Mike to continue their conversation. They were still disgustingly sticky. Was this what it felt like to need a shower?

  It might one day be possible for her to find out.

  That was a distraction she didn’t need as she manifested in her father’s office. Helen had to concentrate. “Sir.” She bowed low. “Constable Zhang Fang Hua reporting for your daily briefing.”

  His fingers drummed against his desk in time with the thrumming of her threads. “You are late, Detective.”

  So the reinstatement had stuck. “My deepest apologies, sir.” No excuses. She’d learned that the hard way.

  “Your report, please.”

  Fang Hua now had two more firsts: the first time she was completely unprepared for her daily briefing, and the first time she had to split herself in spite of orders. She fired off threads to gather the required data and used others to collate it frantically. “The operation to apprehend the hooligans in Chengdu was brought to a successful conclusion. The hostages were not injured, and all suspects were arrested without further incident.”

  “Yes,” he said as he reviewed the report in their shared vision. “And the foreigners?”

  Fang Hua had forgotten what she’d told the sergeant.

  Firsts!

  “I was the only English speaker on site, so I questioned them briefly and released them.” This was the biggest first of all.

  It was the very first time she’d ever lied to Father.

  He grunted. “I told you learning English would be useful for more than just reading those dusty old books.”

  She’d dedicated a huge part of her life to understanding Joseph Needham’s work in its original language. It was so very annoying that an Englishman had written the best technical history of her country. She hoped to help translate the next revision. Father always dismissed it, and she’d never really forgiven him for that.

  “Officer Zhang?”

  Fang Hua swore silently, but the exhaustion and confusion of the past twenty-four hours made it impossible to concentrate. “Apologies, sir. The bank robbery attempt was my first case since the Chengdu incident.”

  “Yes, and the first with you in command.”

  It wasn’t much of a compliment, since Fang Hua was the sole survivor of the unit.

  He continued, “Not a single casualty, either. I see they were well armed.”

  “Country vagrants, sir. Victims of Western spiritual pollution, nothing more.” It was so much harder to say that when she realized it applied to her newfound brother.

  Her brother.

  “Fang Hua? Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Pain, lies, impossibilities, all too much too fast. She found her center and concentrated on her boundaries. Fang Hua need only survive this meeting, and then she would have time to rest and comprehend everything that had happened. Other threads returned with the remaining summaries. “Yes, sir. Being in command has generated a surprising amount of new data for me to collate.”

  Lies!

  “I apologize for my delays. If I may continue?”

  “By all means.”

  Chapter 18: Mike

  He’d come to China to secure some contracts, reconnect with a group of monks, and at least try to rescue some sort of relationship with Kim. That plan got sabotaged by car rides down homicidal Chinese highways, karaoke with people he didn’t understand, a proposition by a woman he didn’t know, and then maniacs with assault rifles.

  Oh, yeah, and he got to meet his sister.

  His sister. It was the hologram that sold it. Mike didn’t have a real holo before he came outside, not in the sense he did now. Instead of duplicating a single realspace body, he’d taken all the pictures of men he could find and averaged them. When Mike saw Helen’s holo, he recognized the same averages, and finally things made sense. The entire time in China he’d been fighting to connect to Chinese realmspace. It felt like trying to push past someone. It was crazy.

  Helen made the reason simple. He couldn’t connect to Chinese realmspace because someone else already lived there.

  It was obvious now that he thought about it. Mike emerged from the quantum fabric that described the bedrock of realmspace. For a brief time, he'd been able to go anywhere, but then China had roped their section off with a new firewall. He’d been too busy exploring the world to care, and he couldn’t find a way in when he finally got around to trying. Mike just chalked it up to their programmers being awesome, never once considering that a new, isolated pocket of realmspace could cause another emergence.

  “Damn it.” Kim said after Helen disappeared. “Does that mean you have a father, too?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  He turned and fought not to step back. She’d moved very close to him.

  It’d been a long time since he’d had the courage to attempt any sort of physical intimacy with her. There were a few times when he thought something might happen, but she’d always shut down at the last minute. He was never angry. Well, not much. Kim had very good reasons to fear physical intimacy with anyone. His frustration was more because she never talked about it, and got irrationally angry when he tried.

  But things were changing between them. She was changing. There was no chance of success if he never tried. Mike leaned closer. He could feel her heat against his skin.

  Kim snatched back and cut loose with a sneeze, and then another. “God that,” one more sneeze, “tickles,” and another, “Damn it! I hate,” one more, “I hate this!”

  She ran into the bathroom, blasting out sneeze after sneeze, and then blew her nose into tissues. Sneeze attacks when he got close to her face were another annoying aspect of her syndrome. His body’s reaction was just as bad, but at least she couldn’t see that.

  Walk it off, soldier. Walk it off.

  She came out of the bathroom sniffling, but also smiling. “I’m exhausted. What time is it?”

  “Half past six.”

  “Wow, Chinese start early.”

  They were alone, together, and she wouldn’t stop staring at him. Maybe this time he wouldn’t have to walk it off.

  “I’m not kidding,” she said, and he hoped that really was disappointment in her voice, that she might want more than they had right now. “I’m wiped out.”

  The feeling under his eyelids matched the way his threads felt. “Me, too.”

  “Mike,” she said, glancing away. “It’s been too much. Today has been way too much. I won’t be able to sleep, and we have a ton of things to do tomorrow. Today. Would you mind?”

  It was the first time she’d asked him to sleep in the same room with her since leaving the psychiatric hospital. Her physical injuries during the ordeal with Watchtell were superficial; it took months for the mental wounds to heal.

  Mike had to be there in those first few days, twenty-four–seven, to get her to stop fighting the restraints. He slept on a convertible chair in her room until the day she got out. Watchtell�
��s attack featured prominently in his own nightmares at the time.

  When she got out of the hospital she’d changed the rules, never once mentioning that any of it had happened. Except during fights.

  This wasn’t a fight.

  “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

  Kim tossed a few pillows off the bed while he got a sheet from a sideboard in the main room. The carpet was plush enough that he sank into it slightly. He said, “Good night, Kim,” but she was already faintly snoring.

  *

  “Mike,” a voice whispered. “Mike?”

  Morning. A really bright morning. Someone must’ve left the drapes open.

  Tonya leaned down over him, shaking his shoulder. “Is Kim okay?”

  She had relieved Mike in the mental hospital occasionally and knew the drill.

  “I’m fine,” Kim said muzzily above him. “What time is it?”

  “Ten-thirty.” Tonya replied as she stood. “What time did you guys go to bed?”

  Kim rolled off the other side. “About four hours ago.”

  Mike groaned as he sat up, working the kinks out of his back. Maybe it wasn’t such a soft floor after all.

  Tonya asked, “Why were you guys up so late?”

  “We had a pretty busy night. We’ll tell everyone about it over breakfast.” Mike remembered the time. “Or lunch, I guess.”

  He went back to his room to clean up. When the door opened, the pile of clothes on the couch groaned.

  “Wake up.” He nudged the heap. It smelled like a camp stove. “I said wake up, Spencer.”

  The mound cut loose with a hacking cough. “Fuck, Mike, what time is it?”

  “Too late for your sorry ass. Where’s Shan?”

  Spencer pointed feebly at a pair of bare feet hanging out of the bathroom door. Mike flipped the kid on his back and dragged him out of the way. He tried hard to ignore the smell. At least Shan hadn’t missed the toilet when he threw up.

  “We have to meet Kim for breakfast. I mean lunch.”

  Spencer and Shan hadn’t moved an inch after his shower. That didn’t change after he’d gotten dressed. Just as he left the room, he turned and shouted, “Spencer!”

  “Shit, Mike, what?”

  “I have a sister.” Mike shut the door.

  *

  The story of the bank robbery at least kept Tonya entertained through brunch. She seemed tense, and wore a little more makeup than normal this morning.

  He waited until Kim was finished with the main part to bring it up. “How was your night, Tonya?”

  “Oh, nothing. A good workout.” She leaned in. “These guys don’t know all that much about sparring. I’m gonna be sore for a few days.”

  Something had happened. He didn’t have to look at Kim to know she’d noticed it, too. He could feel her tense.

  Spencer chose that moment to drag himself into the dining room with Shan behind him.

  “Ah,” Tonya said as the two flopped into chairs. “When baiju attacks?”

  Spencer groaned and put his head in his hands. “As God is my witness, I will never do that again. My hair hurts.”

  Shan motioned to one of the waiters. “Sprite and vodka, otherwise we die. Next pitcher Sprite only.”

  Kim asked, “Does that really work?”

  He nodded. “Pee all morning, but not die. TCM best cure.”

  “TCM?” Mike asked. Kim was always ten steps ahead of him when it came to different cultures. She said it came with learning languages so quickly. And now he had a Chinese sister.

  A sister.

  “Traditional Chinese Medicine,” Shan replied. “Much superior to Western kind for these things.”

  As soon as the drinks arrived, Spencer and Shan gulped them down. Spencer grimaced. “Damn it, Shan, I thought you said this was a cure.”

  “It cure eventually. Scale of dragon not instant fix. That was amazing baiju. Next time, I show you street food. Scorpion on stick very good.”

  Spencer turned pale green. Mike had never counted on humans using their skin to signal. It wasn’t conscious, but it was there. He looked at his hand, and then remembered the way his skin felt last night in front of Kim.

  Signaling sucked.

  “Much better than American hot dog.” Shan smiled evilly.

  “Agh, I’ll take your word for it.” Spencer turned to Mike. “What’s this about you having a sister?”

  Tonya blinked. “What?”

  Mike received a text from Kim.

  WE CAN’T TALK ABOUT THAT HERE

  Now that he knew there was no way to join Chinese realmspace, he’d arranged for his regular phone to work. It was limited to 7G service, and the roaming fee was outrageous, but at least now he had a connection.

  WELL, WHERE?

  Kim had to be messaging the other two as well, since Spencer and Tonya dropped the subject and nodded without protesting.

  Kim’s paranoia came in handy sometimes. This was China. There was no guarantee they weren’t being watched. Mike was still hiding from the world; it was only natural that Helen was too. Shan seemed too involved with his drink to find anything strange in the conversation.

  PEOPLE’S PARK. AFTER THE HANGOVER TWINS ARE DONE.

  Shan wanted to join them, which complicated things. “Really, it not trouble. You be four otherwise, very unlucky.”

  Kim switched to Chinese and had a quick discussion with him. “Okay,” Shan said, back to English, “as long as you travel to fifth person, I guess everything all right. Spencer, you have contact?”

  “Sure do, bud. I’ll ring you up tonight, deal?”

  “Deal.” They bumped fists, and Shan left to go find his van in the parking garage. Kim headed to the rental counter.

  Mike had to know. “What did you say to him?”

  “That we were meeting someone, and I would still be driving.”

  “We’re going to meet Mike’s sister?” Tonya asked.

  Kim raised an eyebrow and Tonya backed off.

  Kim turned to the lady behind the rental counter to make car arrangements in Chinese.

  *

  In all honesty, Mike could not understand why everyone else made such a fuss over Kim’s driving. In the luxury four-door she rented, it was more precise than in yesterday’s van. The way she could nudge motor scooters around without causing an accident was genuinely impressive, and her ability to fit the car into a gap between delivery trucks was just unbelievable. She could do it at well over eighty miles per hour with only inches to spare.

  “Kim,” Tonya said, sitting in the front passenger seat, “if you do that again I will kill you myself.” Kim stuck the car’s nose out for another pass and an eighteen-wheeler in the oncoming lane bellowed its horn. Tonya shrieked as it went by. “No more passing!”

  Kim glanced at him in her rear view mirror, and he threw her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. She grinned and winked at him. She was still thrilling to be around when she was engaged and excited. He had to concentrate on that. Mike had to enjoy the good times, because they tended not to last very long.

  The park covered several city blocks. Stands of tall trees surrounded the entrance and the path that led further inside, casting the area into heat-relieving shade. Echoes of amplified music wafted through the air. Starting just inside the gate about every fifteen feet was an older lady placidly sitting on a small stool, surrounded by pictures of a young man who resembled her enough he had to be her son.

  Matchmaker markets. It reminded him of classic car shows he’d seen back home. Most women had a placard on a nearby easel. The text translated into a detailed description, right down to what the man’s yearly salary was. There weren’t any women on display at all. A female buyer’s market, for sure.

  Further in the park, people gathered around small groups of performers at an intersection. Buskers stood on bright red carpets shaped like stages. Red and gold banners proudly announced the name of each act. The amplified music would stop only long enough for an announcer to babble enthusiasticall
y to the crowd, their voices made tinny by old-fashioned bullhorns.

  At the nearest stage, two actors performed some kind of ballet. No tights, though. The performers—male and female—wore military uniforms. The hammer-and-sickle of the communist party featured prominently in their decorations, yet the music was serene and romantic. Romeo and Juliet: The Comrade Years.

  There were groups of color-coordinated, pajama-clad people practicing Tai Chi, and others line dancing to Chinese electronica. A small orchestra played not fifty feet away from a chorus of people singing music handed to them by someone conducting an accordion and a synthesizer.

  The people were relaxed and friendly, the pace about as far from hectic as it could get. A waltz struck up. Spencer, who’d made a miraculous recovery under Shan’s TCM regimen, bowed to Tonya, took her hand, and then danced her out into the crowd. The stares were friendly, accompanied by smiles, waves, and endless English greetings of “Hello!” It was probably the only English word most of them knew. When the dance was over, Tonya graciously fielded all the requests for a picture.

  “I wish I could see this enhanced,” he said to Kim.

  She shook her head. “It’s insane. I had to turn it off. Too many talking pandas.”

  “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “There’s a tea house by the lake. Nobody will think twice about a group of foreigners having a chat with an empty chair. They’ll assume we’re talking to someone back home.”

  The tea house was just full enough to make him nervous as Kim threaded her way to a table. A few people nudged her purse or shield box, but when she finally found their table he knew why she’d picked the place. The chairs were bamboo, with a big hoop that framed the back and made up the armrests. Kim was completely enclosed by it, with no chance of an accidental brush.

  “You guys have to talk,” Tonya said after they sat down. “I’m dying over here.”

  “Yeah, Mike. A sister? What the fuck?” Spencer asked.

  A waitress brought a tea set over on a large tray.

  “Is she ready?” Kim asked Mike.

  This was it. The sudden panic was fascinating. Shy terror, like worrying about a hot pan but wanting to touch it anyway. Every time he thought he was used to the realspace chemical component of his emotions, they’d surprise him with a new combination.