Astra: Synchronicity

by Lisa Eskra

  "Who's the President of Chara?"

  "Thomas Scheidecker, a former admiral in the Allied Fleet. He won the election of 2308 with 55 percent of the popular vote."

  Dr. Jones nodded. "Impressive. I'd always thought half the people on Pisa didn't know and the other half didn't care."

  "Get your bloody hands off her!"

  The booming voice rattled the nearby tin walls and made every one of them jump. Before anyone could blink, Rashad and his three other officers had their weapons drawn. When the man in the dark overcoat appeared from the murk, Rashad breathed a sigh of relief. It was the man they'd come for.

  Carmen took a few menacing steps forward. "Identify yourself!"

  "At ease," Rashad said. "He's the one we're here for."

  She shared a tense glance with Lieutenant Washington. "You mean, he's—"

  "Yes." He dug his hands into his deep pockets. "Dr. Xander Adams." He spoke with a heady Euro accent. A disheveled mop of hair framed his leathery face, worn through with deep wrinkles that never faded. His bright blue eyes stood out in the darkness, enhanced by the xenon emissions pouring down on him. Years in exile had given him a tall, lean build, yet Xander possessed the sort of commanding presence that made him seem bulletproof.

  "Aren't you wanted for six counts of treason by the Pan-Asian Union?" Sibo inquired.

  "Seven, actually, but that's irrelevant right now. You, doctor, I presume." He pointed at Jones. "Step away from her. She's my responsibility."

  "Actually," he said, "she just became mine. She doesn't know who she is."

  "Well, I can tell you that. Her name is Amii Martin, and she's my assistant. When the PAU moved in on us, I lost track of her. I could only assume she'd already found a route away to the city. Obviously, she did. She does have a pilot's license; there must be records of that somewhere."

  Rashad turned around and signaled for his crew to get ready to move out. "Alright. We're taking you both."

  Dr. Jones offered Amii his hand, but Xander hurried over and pulled her away before she had a chance to take it. "Wanking doctors."

  "I'll be running a detailed scan of her when we get back to the ship."

  "Like hell you are."

  "Why? Hiding something?"

  "Fine," Xander shot back at him. "You do your little scan and what have you. She fell the other day and had some memory loss, but that's all. There is nothing wrong with her."

  The doctor eyed him suspiciously. "We'll see about that."

  Xander hurried toward Rashad and the rest of the company that had already begun heading toward the ship. "Did President Scheidecker say if my request for asylum had been accepted?"

  "Of course not," Rashad said. "I'm not privy to that information. For all I know, he might want you to fix his housekeeping robot."

  "You don't think he means to turn me over to the PAU, do you?"

  "They're at war with the PAU. Why would they hand over a brilliant scientist to them? No, I'm fairly certain this is something much bigger than that."

  Chapter Four

  Magnius stared out his office window at the pelting rain that soaked the landscape. The storm kept his boats in dock all day long, moored to the pier while they weathered the worst. Because of the vast amount of work to be done, the deckhands stuck on port managed to stay busy. For one shining moment he could relax. And yet, at the same time he couldn't.

  He hadn't seen his wife since yesterday morning. The heartrending events replayed themselves without relenting in the hours since then, and misery followed close behind. He'd struggled his whole life to fit in with both psions and normals, but in the end he felt comfortable with neither.

  Like most other mysteries of nature, science unraveled the complicated biology of psions over the years. Being a psion had all the common features of a disease and a dominant one at that; due to this, only one parent need have the alleles for all offspring to be psions. Genetic testing to distinguish psions from normal humans had never been conclusive because the mutations were so slight and varied from psion to psion. A complex interaction produced varying power levels, classified by tiers. Tier-1 designated the psions not far removed from normals with minor abilities, while Tier-10 denoted the maximum known extent of psionic capabilities. Distribution amongst tiers was exponential, with lower tiers making up the bulk of psions.

  Like chess pieces, each type had unique advantages and disadvantages. Telepaths trumped telekines while Seers got the best of everything. Not all psions could extend their lives, just those with a high secondary psychometabolism. It shamed him to fall into that category.

  He ran his hands through his mottled hair. A happy picture of him and Lyneea mocked him from his desk. Life on Fantasti had been lonely, and he should've known better than marry a woman so opposed to psions no matter how smitten he was with her—a foolish mistake that would cost him dearly. With how their relationship degraded these past few years, part of him wondered if he'd really loved her at all.

  Long ago he resigned to being different, condemned to life as an outcast if he didn't project a lie. The persona of Matt Zoleki required years of meticulous planning, long hours at the office, and mountains of paperwork. He hid behind his falsified identity for the past forty years, the only thing tethering him to normalcy, because if he didn't, he stood a good chance of being dead like all the others glamorized 24/7 on the news.

  His attention drifted back toward his window. The rain had stopped, and the violent squall appeared to have passed. It was too late to send the boats out so he decided to head home. He grabbed his black raincoat and walked out of his office. If it started raining again on the way home, the trip would be horrible on his hoverbike.

  "Leaving early today?" Justine asked after he passed by her desk. "When's the last time that happened?"

  He glanced at her and smiled. "Not for years."

  "You should pick up some flowers for your wife." She took a sip of tea from a ceramic mug on the desk. "Remind her how much you love her."

  The mention of Lyneea quickened his pulse. If he thought the gesture would work, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But she'd shredded gift bouquets on more than one occasion in a fit of rage. "You have a wonderful evening, Justine."

  "Thanks, Mr. Zoleki. You too."

  Magnius walked through the front door and breathed a sigh of relief. The fresh air revitalized his spirit and reminded him life was too short to spend pining over the past. What's done is done, he thought. If we can work it out, we will. If not, I have only myself to blame.

  He gazed up at the sky. A light mist continued to fall, which covered his face and made him squint. He shivered from a brisk gust off the ocean and slipped on his coat before heading to his hoverbike.

  "Great." The hoverbike dripped from the storm in spite of its location. Water covered the seat and the display console. He tilted it and watched the rain spill onto the ground and collect in puddles on the pavement.

  Before he could open the storage compartment under the seat, large droplets splattered against the ground for a few seconds before a torrential downpour came forth like the whim of an angry God. He wanted to scream at the sky to vent his frustration and had he been home right now, he would've. In a fit of controlled rage, he slammed his hands onto the seat of his bike and stooped over it. He closed his eyes and let the cool water drench him. It streamed down his face and found its way under his coat. Riding home and getting out of the clothes became his only desire.

  The rainfall tapered off in a steady transition back to drizzle. When he reached toward the compartment, an enervating aura washed over him. A rash of imaginary needles pricked his skin, causing a stinging sensation over his entire body for an instant before evaporating. He spun around but saw only clusters of puddles and rainbow-hued vehicles in the parking lot. No shady figures. No ghosts of the past.

  Then he heard a voice behind him. "Magnius."

  He turned his head and saw a dark man standing across from him on the other side of the hoverbike. His heart leapt in
to his throat. "Tiyuri…I never expected to see you again."

  Memories returned from his childhood on Superbia. As a youngster, the man kept him on a short leash and had an even shorter fuse. He'd been a tyrant when it came to chores, and Magnius lost count of the times he'd endured a beating for ignoring his responsibilities to play with friends. And while Aliane was never present for the punishment, he always felt her invasive mental stare watching him.

  Tiyuri crossed his bulging arms, covered with a glistening sheen from the rain. "Most people don't live long enough to tell me that. Why are you masquerading as your kid brother?"

  "I never had a brother. I worked in the Hall of Records on DeSoto for years, which made forging the necessary paperwork to change my name trivial. Faking my own death was the hard part." The glossy pavement reflected cracks of sunlight in the clouds above. "I look half my age. I don't want people to think I'm a psion. That's easy enough for you to understand, right?"

  "That would've never been a problem if you stayed on Superbia."

  "It's been a few years so it's easy to forget, but I was an outcast there. It got to the point where if I didn't leave, I was going to have to kill myself. So I have no regrets about leaving. What are you doing here anyways?"

  Tiyuri raised his eyebrows. "It has come to our attention that you are no longer as powerless as was once perceived. Aliane would very much like to speak with you about it."

  I'll bet she would, he thought. He clenched his fists to redirect his seething anger. "I hate to continue to disappoint everyone after all this time, but I'm still the poster child for failure. I'm pretty sure I'm just doomed to live forever. Thank you for reminding me of that. I'm going home and I suggest you do the same."

  Before he could turn and mount the bike, Tiyuri caught his shoulder and held it in his firm grip. "I'm afraid you misunderstand. A reliable witness saw you using telekinetic powers. If that truly is the case, we would like you to come home and rejoin us as a brother in our quest to one day be accepted as the psions we are."

  Since Tiyuri was not a telepath, Magnius did little to shield his inner contempt for Aliane. Once long ago she might've felt like that. But recent news reports indicated she'd become more aggressive, lashing out at psions who lived on Chara as sell-outs and frauds. Part of him wondered if it was a veiled attack on him. "I don't know, she's not the person I thought she was."

  "The Mistress has a vision that will reunite us all," Tiyuri said and released his grasp. "She's on her way to a Seer as we speak in order to find the path. If you resist, I will be forced to eliminate you."

  As long as he had any say in the matter, Magnius didn't plan to return to Superbia. However, if Tiyuri thought for an instant he had no intention of coming with him, he'd make Magnius beg for death. If there was a way out of this, he sure as hell didn't see it yet.

  "Give me until tomorrow morning. I need to take care of a few things before I go. And yes, I realize you'll be watching me."

  He hopped on the hoverbike, but when he turned his attention back to Tiyuri, he'd vanished. No sooner had he started its engine than the rain resumed its diabolical fury. If his frustration could've flung him straight into space, he'd be in orbit of Nuage about now.

  ***

  Amii stood in the sickbay of the Kearsarge while the doctor gave her a thorough physical. The unfinished bulkheads had been covered by green panels. A faint odor of bleach lingered in the air. An examination table sat in the center of the room, ringed with analytical tables and sophisticated medical instruments. The cluttered workspace led her to the conclusion the doctor was knee-deep in some kind of research, though the nature of it was foreign to her.

  Xander chewed on his bottom lip while he paced around the sickbay and watched the doctor starting his second test. "I thought I told you to stop touching her."

  Dr. Jones sighed again and puffed up his well-built chest, a move that made him look ready to pummel Xander into oblivion. "I can't do the tests if I can't touch her. If you won't pipe down, you need to leave."

  "Bloody doctors." He skulked away and dropped into a chair by the door.

  The doctor's attention returned to his patient. "Amii, is any of this bothering you? You can refuse the tests at any time."

  "Please continue," she said as she sat down on the examination bed and smoothed out her blue gown.

  "I need you to lay down for me," Dr. Jones said. "Your vitals look normal, but I want to do some high-resolution imaging of your head to check for recent trauma or anything else that might indicate the cause of your memory loss."

  She nodded and stretched herself out across the bed, the head of which was tilted up. The doctor rolled a large device over to her, designed to fit around the bed and over her head. It was an IMRI, a cutting-edge instrument that could detect even the most minor brain trauma. If anything were wrong with her head, this machine would sniff it out. The doctor pushed a few buttons to calibrate it. She heard the quiet whir of the device as it started.

  The relief of being off Pisa soothed her. The chances she'd run into a group from the Allied Fleet were slim at best. She had no idea who Xander Adams was or how he seemed to know her. But the idea that someone had an inkling of her past satisfied her. She glanced over at him; he sat with his legs crossed and shook his foot frantically as he bit his thumb and muttered to himself. The sight made her smile.

  "This is going to take about five minutes. Xander, a word. In my office. Now."

  The two men strode away, and the latch of the door followed moments later. Because Amii needed to keep still, she couldn't watch them, but between the chirps of the scanner, she heard their muted voices.

  "What did you say happened to her?"

  "She was standing at my workbench making adjustments to a cybernetic hand. There was a large apparatus on one of the shelves next to her. I blame myself, really, for even putting it there. It fell and hit her. I wasn't in the room when it happened so I can't say where it hit her, but I heard the crash and rushed to her aid. By that time she was lying on the floor unconscious."

  "I thought you said she fell."

  "Well, she did. Something hit her and she fell. Either one could've caused her memory loss. Look, I haven't done anything wrong. I know my reputation has become sullied over the years, but I truly am on the cusp of something miraculous. Amii is more than just an assistant; she's been invaluable to my work these past few years. After she's done with the test, if you'd escort us to some quarters, we'll be no trouble to you at all for the rest of the journey to Chara."

  "I'm afraid I can't release Amii until I finish a report on the matter for the captain. I want to run her name through the database and maybe a few more tests. Until then, you'll be confined to quarters. You can see her again when I'm finished."

  "What other tests do you plan to run on her?"

  "You don't really expect me to tell you that, do you?"

  "I suppose not, but I will tell you this. If you do anything to her against her will, and I do mean anything, I'll see to it that you're brought up on charges."

  The doctor chuckled. "Feel free. I have nothing to worry about. I really can't say the same for you though."

  At that moment Amii noticed a pair of crewmen walk into the room toward the glass doors of the office and out of sight.

  "Security will see you to your quarters. Amii is in good hands. You have nothing to worry about."

  "I'll hold you to that. All right, gents, I'll come willingly. Let's just get this over with."

  Exactly who was Dr. Xander Adams? Criminal? Scientist? He himself admitted to being a wanted man. Wanted for what?

  Dr. Jones followed the three of them into the main medical center, watching discreetly as they exited into the corridor and took a left turn. She'd sized him up the instant she ran into them on Pisa. In the event she needed to run, only the doctor looked athletic enough to keep pace with her, ironic since he was the sole unarmed man of the lot. His uniform hid his muscular definition, the sort of body it took years of train
ing to develop.

  In a few moments the machine finished and he poured over the results on the screen in front of him. His brow furrowed, though she couldn't tell if the news might be good or bad. Aside from minor confusion, she felt composed regarding her predicament. After all, nothing could be done about her amnesia until the cause of it was known. Like any other sane person, she worried the memory loss might be permanent, but for the time being, she chose to keep a positive outlook regardless of the odds or prognosis.

  "Did you find anything?" she asked.

  A heavy sigh revealed the news before his words did. "No. No signs of trauma. No abnormalities whatsoever. I couldn't have asked for more normal results."

  He swung the hulking machine away from her bed and helped her sit up. "I'm going to see if I can find your records in the database, but that could take a few hours. In the meantime, the XO will be your escort around the ship. If there's anything you need, let her know."

  His implant distracted him for a few moments before his attention returned to his patient. He picked up a small light and shined it into her right eye to check pupil dilation. "I realize you don't remember your past, but can you recall anything about yourself?"

  "Not much. I look at certain things and feel like I understand how they work. And when we were in the transport heading back to the ship, I felt like I knew how to pilot fairly well…like I could've flown us here."

  He turned off the light and put it back down on the bench next to him. "True amnesia is quite rare. I've never heard of a case where an IMRI didn't find something wrong. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're making it all up."

  She balked at his suspicion. "You think I'm lying?" She had no reason to deceive anyone on board. In fact, she disapproved of pretense in all forms. If one day humans woke up and stopped lying to one another, Astra might not be a utopia, but it would be a better place.

  "No, I mean, we checked who you are. Any outstanding warrants would've come up right away. There's no reason for you to claim amnesia without having it unless you're deranged. 'Course living on Pisa…that place surpasses most people's definitions of hell. I don't know what Xander was thinking when he moved there."