by Mark Lingane
The doctor called for guards to carry Peter and Melanie out to a hastily constructed medical tent set up in the quadrangle. A byproduct of the antidote was to expel a noxious green gas from every orifice, which, in a closed room, could cause the occupants to pass out. The doctor had fainted twice already. The pungent smell kept all but the most stoic of friends away.
“Do you have the equation for your antidote formula?” the doctor asked Michael.
Michael rummaged in his pockets and brought out a battered piece of paper. He smoothed it and handed it over. The doctor examined it. His eyes darted over to the chemicals he had on his shelves. He stepped over and examined the shelves more closely.
“The problem with having an old medical unit is that you often forget what you have,” he said. “Especially if it’s had to cater to people and animals that have carried diseases over generations. I had several years’ training as an apothecary. Help me here, Michael.”
The veterinarian explained the various aspects of the formula. The doctor moved quickly and steadily through the boxes and jars, picking up some and placing them on the desk.
The experimenting and coalescing continued for hours, with the two men speaking their own private chemical language with intensity; a language without borders.
Eventually, the doctor slid the final potion over the bench top. Michael picked it up and held it against the light.
“It’s the best we can do,” the doctor said.
Both men went out to the tent where an anxious Sebastian, covering his nose and mouth with a wet cloth wrapped around charcoal, waited by Melanie.
She lay still, barely breathing. There were distant voices echoing inside her head. They faded away as though she was falling into a deep sleep. Darkness crept across her eyes. She lay still. She smiled. Warmth and light surrounded her, lifting her spirit free of her worries. She felt sad for a moment for the fading memory of her friends, but the sadness was fleeting. She let go of her life and succumbed to the eternal darkness.
She screamed and sat bolt upright. She swore, then collapsed back.
“Welcome back, Melanie,” Sebastian said. He gave her a hug.
“I owe you a dollar, young man.”
Sebastian looked up at Nikola, who had joined the crowd in the tent after hearing Melanie’s shout. He looked tired and his face was drawn.
Peter lay still; the injection created no physical discomfort in him. He merely groaned and rolled over.
“He’s a tough character,” the doctor said to Michael. “His nervous-system reactions are amazing, considering he’s being poisoned.”
“What now?” Nikola said.
“Rest is all they can do,” Michael said as he dusted his hands. “The antidote will work; it’ll just take time. How long, we don’t know.” He shrugged. “We’re exploring a new frontier in science, boldly going where no one has bothered to go before.”
“You guys go rest,” Nikola said to the medical men. “You’ve done enough. I’ll pack away your gear.”
“Commander, you are truly a gentleman.”
62
IT WAS NOW dark. Nikola estimated that the two men had been working for thirty hours straight. How they could continue to think straight was beyond him. He lit a lantern and hung it on the crossbeam under the tent roof. He collected the equipment and traipsed across the sandy ground back to the medical bay.
He caught a sound just on the edge of his hearing. He glanced over his shoulder, but thought he could make out Gavin’s muscular form silhouetted against the tent wall. Nikola shook off the image as fatigue. They all needed some sleep.
Gavin stepped in through the tent opening, surrounded by a shimmering light. His rage made him shake. He raised his hand, revealing a large knife. He stepped next to Peter. “You killed her.” He sank the knife deeply into Peter’s chest.
Peter’s eyes opened wide as he gasped for air. He convulsed. His arms waved wildly and thrashed briefly before death took him. He lay, open eyed, staring into the great infinite.
Gavin turned to Melanie. “Now it’s your turn, you horrible, despicable troll. My life was ruined by you.” He lifted up the knife.
There was a rustling sound from outside and Nikola appeared through the tent flaps. “Gavin! What are you doing here?” He turned to call the guards.
Gavin raised his palm and sent Nikola sprawling onto the hard ground.
He turned back to Melanie and raised the knife, stabbing down. The knife stopped on the surface of Melanie’s skin. He stabbed down again, but again the knife was stopped fractionally above the skin. He stabbed frantically, but could not penetrate her flesh.
“Leave her alone.” Sebastian stood in the doorway of the tent.
“You. I’m sick of you, you stupid little idiot.”
Sebastian waved his hand and Gavin went silent. “Tesla to tesla, Gavin, I have a message for you.”
He blinked.
The world turned white.
“Where are we?” Gavin searched around manically. Surrounding him were tiny white dots emanating a fierce white light, giving the space no dimensions.
“We’re in the place where the teslas meet.” Sebastian swept his hand in front of his chest, leaving a trail of tiny white dots. “The space where … well, it’s a space I doubt you’re ever going to leave. I’ve learned that being a tesla isn’t about controlling the power; it’s about surfing it. You never understood that, and I doubt you ever will. You thought—we all thought, in a selfish kind of way—that it was ours to control. It doesn’t work like that. You’ll be stuck here until you work that out. I leave you with your thoughts.”
He faded from the grid, leaving Gavin alone. Images of all the selfish and deplorable deeds he had done paraded before him, showing him who he really was. Guilt and remorse gripped him, and he screamed, looking around frantically for an exit sign he would never find.
Sebastian blinked.
He was back in the real world. Gavin’s body stood before him, knife in hand, staring blankly ahead. “Now we’re in a place where you tried to kill my friend, twice,” he said.
Gavin blew through the side of the tent, leaving a great hole, and exploded in the air.
Melanie stirred. She rolled onto her side and blearily opened her eyes. Sebastian came into focus. She gave him a weary smile. She grimaced at the sharp stabbing pain in her stomach. She closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
She woke again. Sebastian gave her a weak smile. He looks terrible, she thought. Great black marks hung under his eyes. She took a deep breath and stretched. She winced as a mild pain darted through her. She rubbed her stomach and struggled to sit up. Her midsection was sore. Sebastian held out his hand and helped her.
“Have I been out long?”
Sebastian nodded.
“What’s been happening?” She looked around the room. “Where’s Peter?” The memories of her moments with Peter came racing back, forming her face into a mask of horror.
“Melanie, I’m sorry.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “There’s no easy way to say this. It’s Peter … Gavin …”
Hearing Gavin’s name made her wince.
“Gavin had this thing with Angel. When we—when I—killed her, Gavin came looking for revenge. Angel was in love with Peter. Gavin was in love with Angel. Gavin attacked the people he blamed for getting in the way of his love.”
“Oh no.” Her face fell. “Please, no.”
“He came for Peter and he came for you. He got Peter before I could get there. I’m sorry. I failed you.”
“Where’s Gavin? Where is that sick …” She clenched and unclenched her fists, fighting back her emotions.
“He’s learning that being a tesla is about giving, not taking.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“He sort of is dead, but alive as well, with his regrets. Consider him burning in electromagnetic hell.”
She turned to him. “Please hold me,” she whispered. She studied her hands, clasping them together, holdi
ng onto her fragility. She couldn’t bear to look at him. “I need something until I feel better. You’d better lie down. This is going to take a long time.”
Morning sun flooded in through the blinds, casting long horizontal shadows across the room. Incense burned next to the window, filling the medical bay with its sweet scent.
The doctor examined the knife wound, which was still tender. Two injuries in the same spot had weakened it, leaving a bright red scar. He tapped Melanie on the knee. Her nerves flexed and she kicked the doctor in the stomach.
He winced. “There’s nothing wrong with your reflexes. You appear to be okay. Thankfully the smell’s gone. I suggest more rest, though.”
“Fine by me. You’ll find me under the covers.”
After she left, the doctor went to look for Michael, and found him in the mess, resting his head against a pole. He sat up when he saw the doctor approach.
Dr. Jackal sat down and played idly with a knife before he spoke. “Tolerance to poisons.”
Michael nodded. He leaned his chin on his palm.
“You get stung by a redback spider enough times, and it no longer becomes poisonous.”
Michael yawned and nodded again.
“In fact, it could be said you might take on some of the properties of the poisonous spider.” Jackal dropped the knife neatly next to the fork with a metallic ring. He positioned it painstakingly. “Has Melanie been poisoned before?”
Michael could see where the doctor was going with this. He hesitated. He looked over his shoulder. Nearby, guards were engrossed in their own conversations. He leaned forward. “Perhaps.”
“What would tolerance do to her?”
Michael had no response. He just sat there, hoping the doctor would continue talking.
“The essence of the infected person would be faster movements and stronger primal urges. Look, Michael, I’m not saying she’s turning into one of them, but they might’ve left their mark on her. She seems very strong for someone who was so sick.”
“And the urges?” Michael’s eyes darted sideways. “Will she want to … eat someone?”
“There are other primal urges, not just feeding. I haven’t had the courage to ask her about those things yet. She’s still in an emotionally dark place.”
63
AFTER THE DRAMA of the last few days, the guards were finally able to escort the guests to the central zone of New Toowoomba to meet the town officials. Aching for something to do, Melanie and Sebastian tagged along. The battle to get through the infected ranks into the central zone of the city was fierce and protracted. Simon lost some good men, and got very angry about it.
The officials were curt and uninterested in dialog. City Hall was empty and half destroyed, yet each one sat in their designated seat, with their official title carved into the wooden nameplates behind them. A large title sitting above a small name: Nikola had thoughts about that.
The agenda rolled on, and eventually, Nikola was dismissed. Denied. He wasn’t even sure what he was being denied. The officials made it clear he had no right to tell them what to do, whatever they meant by that. He tried to explain that the dictator in the east, known as the Hunter, was a known threat and should be treated with absolute caution, if not avoidance. They shouldn’t run into an uncertain deal with a man with no record of keeping promises, he told them.
“He has a cure,” they chorused. “He wants to help.”
He was a nice man, they assured him. All they had to do was provide him with food and, ahem, some other things, and he would be able to continue working on the cure. It was only a matter of months. New Toowoomba had a trade agreement with certain gentlemen who kept him in supplies. All they had to do was defend the city until there was a cure, when everything would return to normal.
“But you’re prisoners of your own making,” Nikola cried. “You’ll be leaders of nothing.”
They hadn’t seen sense. He had argued with brick walls that were more yielding.
“You know why they won’t leave, Parker?” he said as they left the civic room.
“Tell me, O Wise Commander.”
“Power. If they leave, they’ll be admitting they’ve relinquished their power. In the end, it’s all these people know.”
Nikola joined the rest of the group waiting in the antechamber. Melanie and Sebastian were sitting by the large oak doors leading into the great room, idly kicking their feet back and forth under the long wooden bench.
The civil dignitaries filed out.
“Mother!” Melanie leapt up from the bench. She slapped her hand over her mouth. It was too late. She had uttered the word without thinking.
“Catherine?” The old lady turned around; she stood tall and proud. Age weighed heavily upon her, with gray hair and deep wrinkles. She was thin and her loose skin indicated she had lost a significant amount of weight recently. “I knew you’d come.”
The others looked around. There were no other women in the vicinity.
Sebastian looked at Melanie. “Melanie, why’s she calling you Catherine?”
“I’m Lady Macquarie,” the woman said, “and this is my daughter. I’m calling her Catherine because that’s her name, of course.”
“No, it isn’t.” Melanie looked away. “Not anymore.”
“Daughter, I thought you were dead. I grieved deeply until your commander spoke to me when he found you.”
She spun around to Nikola. “You told her? You promised me.”
Nikola coughed. “Now would be the time, Melanie. I’ve kept the concerns between you and your family equitable. You can’t know what it’s like to have a child missing, never knowing if they’re dead or not. It’s a living hell. It’s time for the truth.”
“The truth is now. Not the past.”
“Only if you have no heritage,” Nikola said. “It’s time to face your responsibilities, or at least make amends.”
“She is Catherine Macquarie,” the woman said.
“No!” Melanie cried.
“She is a Macquarie,” the woman continued, ignoring her, “and part of a family with a rich heritage of success and prosperity.”
Melanie folded her arms
“Is she part of the family, or one of the lesser arms?” Nikola said.
“Catherine Macquarie is the eldest child of Stuart Lachlan Macquarie, CEO, and major shareholder of the Macquarie banking empire.”
Now everyone looked at Melanie.
“That’s not me. Okay, it is. Or it was. But this is me now. I’m like you, Sebastian, Nikola, Michael. Not this …” She waved her hand in the direction of her mother.
“Catherine, there’s so much to talk about. I’m glad you’ve come home. Father is dead. He had a stroke two years ago and never recovered. The empire is yours. Take it. It needs a guiding hand.”
“I haven’t come home. When I left here years ago, I made a promise never to return. This is just an unfortunate stop-off. I’ll never come back after what you did to me.”
“Catherine, come home.”
“Stop saying that. It’s not my name and this isn’t my home.”
“I’ll give you some time to come to terms with it,” the woman said. “Your room is waiting. It’s still in the same state, although we cleaned up the food hidden under the bed. Come talk to me.”
“What about Cassandra?” Melanie said. “What about my sister?”
Her mother ignored her. “Please, come home,” she said, and walked away.
“What do I call you now?” Sebastian said.
“My name hasn’t changed. I’m still Melanie. I am and always have been Melanie.”
“Good. I don’t think I could take losing you.”
“Me neither. I can never go back to that way of life. I’m sorry, I need a few moments alone.” She walked out of City Hall with her head bowed and a dark storm cloud above her.
64
PARKER HAD BEEN scouting around the fortified area of New Toowoomba. The town had been built with remarkable speed. It had pre
viously been a cyborg stronghold, and he knew the town officials must have wet themselves with excitement after they realized it would be theirs once again. He concluded they had worked the cyborgs to death, the excuse being that they were dying anyway.
Nikola joined him on his rounds, and Parker pointed to the voidships docked in the trading zone. “Full of questionable produce,” he said.
The sleek cargo ships were tethered loosely to the promenade. A voidship needed to be fast, and ready, to evade the authorities.
“Check out the quality individuals,” Parker said.
The heavily muscled traders—or thugs, according to Parker—were tattooed with tribal insignia: more owners’ stamp than statement of independence and rebellion. They milled around, awaiting instructions from their absent captains and enjoying those ladies who braved the abuse to earn a living in desperate times.
Commotion from farther along the promenade caught Parker’s attention. He saw a young female trying to twist away from a man pumped up on drugs designed to inflate his muscles with minimal effort.
“Hey, leave the lady alone,” Parker shouted. He ran up and jabbed his finger into the man.
“This ain’t no lady.”
“Is she your mother?”
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
The man let the woman go, who turned and fled … into the arms of the next paying customer.
“Oh, I have many comments about your mother,” Parker said.
The man raised his fist, but found Parker’s thumb buried in his throat. His eyes bulged as he fought for air.
“Don’t harm the help, Commander.”
Nikola smiled when he heard the familiar weasel voice. He turned to face the diminutive man. “Andana, am I surprised to see you? In all honesty, yes, I am.”