by Nirina Stone
The black suit, the colourful necktie, the brilliant artificial smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. What in the world is a Vorkian doing, standing between me and my way out of the Diamond House?
He slinks through the door like a long shadow, shutting the door behind him. He walks deeper into the hallway and keeps his eyes on mine.
The Soren team is well on its way, and will likely be in this room within five minutes if I’m not at our rendezvous point. The Vorkian can kill me in much less time than that.
I frown and steady my breathing while I back up, seeing that his hands are empty—so his Robot Operated Syncing Personal Executor is not charged yet. I may still have time to fight my way past him after all.
Why would he kill me though? Sure, the Vorkian are hired personal assassins, but they’re employed to kill the person who hired them, not anyone else. They follow very strict rules and they never stray. It’s a bizarre Code of Ethics, but one they adhere to nonetheless.
I realize I will have an answer soon enough, when Isaac steps through what looks to be a hidden door in the wall to my right. It explains why he was not out of breath upstairs.
Why should it surprise me that a tech-heavy home like the Diamonds’ would have hidden doorways and vedas? It’s likely a standard in all Prospo homes.
Then it hits me. The Vorkian is not here for me. I turn to say, “Why are you doing this, Isaac?” My frown is directed at him though I keep the Vorkian well within my peripheral vision.
“I know what’s coming,” Isaac says. He walks towards the Living Room with the Vorkian on his heels. “I don’t want to witness it.” He rubs his wrist when he sits down on the couch and it occurs to me that he’s already dying. He has to be. Otherwise, the nanobots in his body would have fixed his ailment, his ‘degenerative joint disease’ as he told me once, long ago. I don’t say it out loud. I wouldn’t—not in front of the Vorkian.
Isaac never talked much about his family, or if he had one at all, other than his brother. In case there is one, at least they can inherit the balance of his credits and whatever he negotiates with the Vorkian, who is now charging up his ROSIE.
I walk towards the exit, when the Vorkian’s deep voice reaches me before I leave. I’m not surprised he addresses me. He needs to up-sell to his next potential client after all.
“Would you like to learn more?” he asks, with the tone that only exceptional salesmen use. “Have you heard about Heaven?”
“No,” I reply, fighting the urge to turn around. I remember Father telling me never to turn my back on a Vorkian, but this one will be preoccupied for a few minutes.
“What do you think happens after death?” he asks at the same time I hear the small ping, indicating the ROSIE is charged and ready.
“Peace.” I walk through the door swiftly and break into a run before it shuts behind me.
Status Quo
Eric confirms with me that a larger team of Sorens kidnapped John Diamond from his Summer Home the same time I was planted in their Winter Home to steal the AADA.
John Diamond is being held in a cold dark room—not unlike the one I was kept in—with the occasional trip down the hall to a larger, brightly-lit interview room.
Eric is much more forthcoming since I have proven my worth on my first successful Soren assignments.
“I’m interviewing him,” he tells me, his long body stretched out beside me on my bed. We haven’t progressed much past kissing, but he has started to spend more time in my room since our return from P-City.
He was worried about me the entire time, he says. He did not like not hearing from me at all so he’s become my shadow again. I don’t mind too much, though. It’s nice to see more of his boyish face than his Interviewer face. I’m happy only John Diamond gets to witness that side of him for a while.
“Do you want to see him?” Eric asks, slightly turning his head my way.
His arms are lying under his head, golden tufts of underarm hair sticking up every which way. His feet reach past the end of my bed and one of them bops up and down ever so slightly, to some rhythm in his head.
Why in the world would I want to see John Diamond? I’ve learnt he owns hundreds of Chemical Plants around Apex. That was the reason we stole his AADA—to determine their various locations, and infiltrate, and then destroy them, I suppose. I have no real interest in learning the details of their planned destruction because there will be “collateral damage,” like Isaac, Roberta and poor Jerome. I hope Jerome’s head isn’t hurting any more. I wish it was John Diamond in that doorway instead of him. He would have done well to be conked on the head with one of his useless overpriced toy cars.
“I have no reason to see John Diamond,” I reply, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“I know,” he says, “but I thought it might help you understand why we do what we do.” It sounds a lot like Mother’s words.
Do I want to understand the motivation behind what the Sorens do? I suppose I should. Otherwise, I’m still living in the dark, which is not much of an improvement from my state when I lived as a poor, hungry, desperate Citizen.
But I’m afraid. I won’t say it out loud to Eric of course. What if I do hear everything there is to know, what if I’m no longer in the dark—will the truth will be too terrible? It could be so far beyond what I’d be able to accept, that I might end up in the same situation as Isaac, and choose death instead.
I think about Isaac often. His last words to me still echo in my head. I know what’s coming—I don’t want to witness it. There’s something comforting about ignorance, I decide. More awareness brings on more pain.
When I told Mother about Isaac’s final words, she’d dismissed him as “another timeworn curmudgeonly Citizen with nothing to contribute.” The harshness behind her words took me aback. I wanted to refute her words—I wanted to come to his defense. To tell her he was smart, that he only wanted peace. But—Isaac was the type of person who wanted to talk and talk and talk some more. Who was he talking to, really? Who was listening? He was well aware of the truth about P-City. But he wanted to continue living the lie, to avoid conflict. He was delusional, because there is conflict all the time. There is no way to avoid it. But I don’t believe he was entirely wrong either. We all lose out in the end.
My head starts to hurt, so I tell Eric, “Okay, I’ll go see him,” just to take my mind off Isaac and his words, if only for a few minutes.
I don’t enter the Interview Room. I stand outside, where I can watch him and Eric sit across from each other, through a one-way mirror. Eric’s back is facing me, so I don’t see his face or his reactions to his prisoner.
Diamond’s cheeks are gaunt, his face grey with patches of dry skin. I imagine he’s never had a single day of hunger until he arrived here. It’s not a flattering look for him. He scratches the same spot on his left arm, raising small angry red bumps.
His usual helmet coif is a wild mass of greasy clumps. Gray-blue bags of skin hang under his eyes, with a black bruise the size of a plum under the left one.
He would have fought, I bet. He would have fought hard. But the Sorens are faster, stronger, and more numerous. They always get the person they set out to kidnap.
“You hate me,” Diamond is saying, “because my family had the wherewithal to invest and hold lands when your families were busy killing one another.”
His voice is surprisingly calm, cold, as he speaks the great Prospo Belief—the one that has them all look at Citizens and Sorens alike, with condescension.
“We were unfocused,” Eric admits. “We should have eyed your lot from the start.” Eric’s voice is stronger, deeper than I’ve ever heard. There is a sense of authority to it I’ve never noticed, not even when he was interviewing me in my room. It’s unnerving, but impressive somehow. A voice of someone not to be reckoned with. “We’re focused on you now, though,” he continues, leaning back into his chair.
I sense a presence beside me and turn to look into the striking eyes of Commander Blair. Fantastic. Not w
hat I need today. My eyes narrow, but I turn my head back to watch Eric, instead of acknowledging Blair’s presence. Sure, we had one little moment of levity after my first assignment, but I still don’t trust his biting tongue.
“Hello,” he says, and I brace myself for the Romy Fifty Two part, but he doesn’t continue. Okay. Maybe I no longer warrant any sort of name, to him.
I tilt my head left and say, “Hi,” while I continue to listen in on the interview.
Commander Blair stands and listens along with me, and keeps quiet for a few minutes.
“Tell me about your northernmost plant,” Eric says. “What is held there?”
Diamond doesn’t answer right away. He stares down Eric who looks like he’s not breathing or moving at all in his seat. I wonder what his face looks like right now.
I also wonder why he’s asking Diamond that question. Surely the AADA will have all sorts of details, including inventory of all the Diamond plants?
Eric wants me to hear the answer out loud, I realize.
“You’re not going to win,” Diamond says, and I’m in awe of his stubbornness. He looks like he’s close to the end of his tether. Yet, he’s holding strong. It’s admirable, despite the fact that it’s John Diamond.
“Hmm,” the commander says beside me. “He looks too well fed for me. Maybe we should cut his rations a bit.”
I look behind me, but there is no one else in the small waiting room with us. Is he addressing me?
“What will starving him accomplish?” I ask, remembering my time in the black hole. And the awful bread that tasted amazing.
Blair jumps as if he didn’t expect me to answer. “For one thing, he won’t have as much resolve.”
I don’t understand his connection between resolve and hunger, but am not interested in discussing it anyway. I shrug and look into the room.
“We need you to talk,” Eric is saying to Diamond. “You need to talk for your treatment here to improve.” I hope that doesn’t mean I’ll see him walking around the Iliad’s grounds, in future. The thought sends shivers down my spine.
“Do you believe that?” Commander Blair asks. What is he referring to? “You lived with Isaac for a year,” he continues, though his eyes are still on the two in the room. “Do you agree that we need to talk more?”
“I’m just wondering why you’re talking to me right now,” I say, before I can swallow my words.
He laughs out—not too loud, but the tiny room we’re in echoes and boosts it, and it startles me for a moment. I realize what I said though, and apologize quickly.
“Why?” he says, his eyes still gleaming while he grins at me. “Why are you sorry?”
I note his tone, and it’s not angry or mocking. “Because you are the commander,” I reply honestly. “And I really need to be more respectful.” There. That should be enough.
He keeps grinning at me and his eyes move down to my mouth. I did just have lunch with Eric. Do I have food stuck in my teeth?
“Hmm,” he says, and he moves his eyes back to mine. “Strohm did tell me you’re feisty.”
Oh, did he? I look back into the Interview room to glare at Eric’s back. I better have a chat with him to find out what else he’s told the commander about me.
“Don’t worry,” Blair says, his eyes on Eric, “he didn’t fill me in with the raunchy details.”
His last sentence makes my back prickle. There are no raunchy details, I want to say, but keep my mouth shut.
He seems bent on disparaging me, this Blair. And I consistently rise to the challenge. Heat builds on my back and neck, and I attempt to think of something else while I bite my tongue. I hear him chuckle softly beside me, infuriating me more.
Why is he here? Actually, he’s the commander. He holds military interest in the interview going on in the room. Duh. So why am I here? Oh right, to understand the motivation behind what the Sorens do.
Except I can’t hear anything going on in the interview with any consistency since the commander insists on talking over their conversation.
So I decide to go. I turn and walk towards the door. Eric will know where to find me, later.
“Are you running off again?” Blair asks.
Yes, I want to yell, because you exasperate me! Instead, I mutter another curse under my breath in the Soren tongue, and walk resolutely towards the door.
“What was that?” he asks, his entire body turned to me. By Odin, why does this man make me react like this?
I apologize once more, and turn away.
Commander Blair’s laughter follows me as I walk through the door. Before it shuts between us though, he yells, “One of these days, we have to finish what we started!”
I’m still furious by the time I get to my room. Eric will be in the interview room for another hour or more, so I jump into a cold shower and do my top-of-the-lungs singing.
Feeling much better, I walk into my room to change quickly, before heading out for a quick walk in the forest. HE won’t be there because he was in his Military gear just now, ready to jump in the copta and head off somewhere, hopefully far far away from the Iliad.
“Where were you?” Eric asks later, my head back on his arm. The sun has set, so we’re lying on my bed in the dark. The only source of light is a dark blue moon ray, flooding through my balcony doors. I’ve never closed the curtains since I was moved into this room from my black hole.
“I couldn’t stay,” I reply. “Commander Blair was in the viewing room and—” and what? He made me uncomfortable? I don’t really know how to explain it to Eric.
It sounds so childish in my head. Like I don’t want to play with some old toy or eat my Lima beans.
“I heard about that,” Eric mutters. I want to tell Eric the commander’s a jerk, but he already knows it. They’re still friends though, so I bite my tongue, not for the first time today. “He really makes you mad, huh?” he finally asks.
More like he goes out of his way to annoy me, I think. But I say, “Yes, I don’t know what it is.”
We sit in silence for such a long time, I think he’s fallen asleep so I close my eyes too.
“You missed the best part of the interview though,” he mutters with a yawn. Then he tells me that not only did Diamond give up everything he knew about the inventory of his various plants. He also gave Eric the details of a new biological weapon the Prospo are busy manufacturing.
I’m suddenly no longer tired. It occurs to me that John Diamond gave up too easily, considering how stubborn he seemed, but I don’t want to know how Eric got him to talk.
“A biological weapon?” I say. As in, one of the many ways the people in the north destroyed themselves and their entire world? As in one of the major weapons that started the Great Omni?
I sit up too quickly and am hit with vertigo. So I hold my head in my hand and wait for it to pass. Eric sits up too, his torso slightly turned to me as I stare at his pale face.
“The beauty of it,” he says, “is that it will be in our control in the next few days.”
I already know the Sorens enjoy seizing Prospo technologies to use them as their own. But the one thing that makes them nearly delirious is when they have a chance to use Prospo technology and knowledge against the Prospo.
Now the Sorens will have their hands on a biological weapon the Prospo have been working on for who knows how long? What did the Prospo want it for, I wonder?
When Eric reaches up to soothe my forehead with his thumb, I realize I have a deep frown on my face.
“What is it?” he asks, “what’s wrong?”
I don’t answer him. What’s wrong is the little I have read from ancient and modern day stories about biological weapons or any weapons of the sort. I know they are not entirely controllable. Once released, they tend to become their own masters. They are not one hundred percent stable. But worst of all, they would not discriminate between the Prospo or the Citizens in P-City.
As if he can read my mind, Eric says, “Do you believe you’ll miss a
ny of the Prospo, Romy?”
No, I decide. Definitely not. But it still doesn’t feel right. I shake my head, no. But there has to be another way, though I have no clue what it is.
The next day, I decide to have an early Mirror Comm chat with Mother. She was so proud of my successful assignments, it’s like we’ve reached a new milestone. Maybe she will be more forthcoming with me, just as Eric has been lately. At least, I hope so.
Mother smiles at me from the Mirror Comm. The mischievous glint in her eye only serves to make her look about two decades younger than she really is.
She’s aware Eric and I have spent most of our waking moments together when we’re not at work and she grins when she notices the still unmade bed behind me.
Eric is long gone. I tossed and turned all night long. He probably had as uncomfortable a sleep as I did. So, before dawn, he kissed me quickly on the forehead, and headed out the door.
“So,” Mother says, a knowing look on her face. “How is the Mason-Strohm partnership going?” She has addressed us as Mason-Strohm since Eric started shadowing me again, and hasn’t looked back since. There’s a part of her that’s thrilled two Legacies are actually seeing each other. It’s not something that’s ever happened amongst the Sorens before, she tells me.
I humour her and say, “We’re fine, Mother. We’re meeting for lunch later.” That should be enough fodder for her to stay glowing and happy for a while.
Then our conversation turns serious. I don’t mention the biological weapon though she likely knows a lot more about it than I do. But I ask her a question that I’ve asked several times in the past, with little luck. I ask her what the Sorens’ plan is, when it comes to P-City.
She doesn’t hesitate this time. “We intend to flatten it, the colony on the moon, and the colony on Mars.”
My eyes grow wider, my chin drops slightly, and my head is screaming, “Why?” though my mouth is silent.
She sees the question on my face, though. She says, “When the world is flattened, Romy, who will survive?”
No one, I think, but I still say nothing.