by Devin Hanson
“And how long did it take Jiahao to have her killed? Once he had incontrovertible proof of your corruption, how many days did it take for her to die?”
“I think that’s enough talking, Min,” Jiahao said coldly.
“Yeah, or you’ll kill me.” Min started walking up the slope carefully. He’d heard the pain in Ruu’s voice and felt stirrings of sympathy for his lieutenant. Could he blame her for the decisions she had made? It had been more than a century since he had let himself have any real feelings for someone else, but he could only imagine the desperation Ruu had been in to find a solution to her lover’s financial problems.
Jiahao drew his gun and leveled it at Min. “Damn right I will.”
Min ignored him. “Ruu, Lieutenant, I understand. I really do. But there’s a chance now, an opportunity to make this right.”
“Jiahao,” Ruu cried, “the plan wasn’t to shoot him. It will make people ask questions.”
“Fuck the questions,” Jiahao snarled.
Min had been making his way up the slope slowly, cutting a zig-zag switchback through the powder. The slope was almost forty-five degrees, very difficult to climb up in a straight line. He was nearly halfway between Ruu and Jiahao now, and directly up slope from the marshal captain. He looked up at Ruu and was close enough to see the anguish on her face, and the indecision.
A sudden flare of pain made Min cramp up and he doubled over. He saw Ruu start to raise a hand toward him. He wished he had had more time. A few more minutes with Ruu and he was sure he could turn her, get her to help him escape. But Jiahao wasn’t going to give him the opportunity. Plan or not, Min knew the other man was about to shoot him, if only to keep Min from ruining the pawn Jiahao had in Ruu.
Min lifted his head and winked at Ruu. He saw her expression freeze in surprise, then he let the pain wash over him and he fell. It didn’t take much for Min to get himself rolling. He flung out one arm to give himself some initial impetus then crossed both arms over his faceplate to protect it from any protruding rocks.
It was nearly fifteen feet down the slope toward Jiahao, barely enough distance to work up an appreciable speed. If he hadn’t actively been trying to fall faster, he probably would have skidded to a halt before covering the distance. As it was, though, Min built up a great sliding mass of dust and gravel that tumbled down the slope with him.
Over the static rush of small rocks against his helmet, Min heard Jiahao cry out a moment before he felt his legs impact with the other man, and then Jiahao was tumbling with him down the slope. Min stretched one arm out and grasped some part of Jiahao’s suit.
Pain fogged Min’s mind and his vision pulsed. Darkness threatened to crash over him. Min knew that if he let himself fall unconscious now, he would never wake up again. Drained adrenal glands gave their last assistance and Min held his eyes open through sheer ornery determination. His grip on Jiahao’s suit held and he reached out with his other hand to find something else to grab onto.
A rock spalled off Min’s faceplate but the glass held. Min fought the urge to cover his faceplate with his arm. It was a toss of the dice, whether he would land on a rock at just the wrong angle and shatter the glass, but he didn’t have much choice. He had to use the momentary confusion to overwhelm Jiahao somehow. Distantly, Min was aware of the other man shouting at him, the words muffled and seemingly far away.
Min’s hand closed on something hard and his fingers recognized it as the chestpiece of Jiahao’s suit. Their wild tumble down the slope slowed and skidded to a halt. Somehow, Min had come out on top. It would be so easy to grab a rock and bring it smashing down on Jiahao’s faceplate. It would be so easy, if he could just focus long enough.
Pain wracked Min. He screamed. Something felt torn within him. Jiahao shoved at him and he rolled off in a puff of powdered dust. Min’s limbs felt enervated; all he could think of was the tearing agony in his chest and abdomen. He wanted to curl up, cradle the damage, protect his organs any way he could, but he didn’t have the strength to do it.
His scream ran out and he couldn’t catch his breath. He tasted blood and knew that his lung had torn during the fall. He was choking, but the panic was distant, drowned out by the overwhelming agony.
He was going to die.
Distantly, Min felt a thump in his ribs as Jiahao kicked him. The pain didn’t even register, but new grating sensations told Min ribs had been broken by the kick. It was hard to care.
Jiahao loomed over him, blobs of shadow and light. Min couldn’t focus on him. He lacked the energy, or his eyes had started to degrade too. It didn’t matter either way. Words were coming through the intercom, but they were just noise without meaning.
The blob that was Jiahao shifted, and Min knew, somehow, that the captain was pointing his gun at him. The end was coming. Finally, an end.
Min had a fleeting thought of the girls locked in their cages. There would be no rescue for them now.
Then Jiahao jerked sideways and vanished, leaving the sky above Min empty. There were no stars now, just the vague white blur of Deimos off to the left. Min coughed and felt hot blood flood over his chin. Breathing was getting more difficult. Soon, there would be no room left in his filling lungs, and the world would fade to black.
Already the pain seemed far away, the agony happening to someone else. He was drifting, conscious only on a technicality.
Sand rattled off his helmet and his intercom warbled at him. There was meaning there, somewhere, but it was too far away, too hard to grasp at. Blackness swamped Min, occluding the sky and the blur of Deimos. There was new light visible, shapes that should have meaning. The peace of death was so close, it frustrated Min that something demanded his attention, denying him his peace.
Reluctantly he put his will back into the effort of consciousness. With consciousness came pain. The shadows shifted again and Min’s world spun around. Fresh agony roared through him, but it was muted; his nerves were already worn and raw. There was only so much pain the nerves could send and they had been screaming at maximum for too long already.
Min struggled to breathe; every breath bubbled through the blood in his lungs and drove fresh spikes of red-hot pain through his chest.
Finally it was too much. There was only so much agony a human body could endure. Consciousness drained away and Min slipped at last into the blissful black.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
The December Protocol’s first public announcement brought a mixed reaction. To most people, it was as if centuries of injustices had finally been reversed in one karmic swoop. The Womack Process was illegal! The clinics were illegal! They didn’t wait for law enforcement or government to form laws in favor of the Protocol. In less than a day, rioters had burned every clinic in America to the ground. Overnight, anyone who worked for a clinic suddenly had armed mobs of furious people screaming for their blood. Tens of thousands of people were killed, many of them innocent, such was the rage of the rioters.
To those who had already received the treatment, Christmas Day of 2130 was a day of fear. The guarantee of eternity had been turned on its head. Instead of centuries of life to look forward to, they had less than a month. These people were the powerful, the wealthy, the influencers. And for all their power, all their wealth, and all their influence, there were no clinics available to treat them. There was no serum and there were no technicians to create more. Even the inventor of the Process, Dr. Womack, was dead.
Not all of those who’d had the Womack Process died right away. Those that found a way to keep getting their treatments lived through the month, but the newly re-formed governments and law enforcement agencies came down squarely in support of the December Protocol. Having the telltale albinism of the Womack Process marked people for death. In many parts of the world, America included, albinos were shot on sight.
Still, the number of immortals who survived to go to Mars was an incredible number, in the tens of thousands. That they expected to find serum on the red planet was more an
act of faith than the result of planning. Small wonder most of them perished in transit or shortly after arrival.
Angeline waited until the door closed before she moved to the front of her cage. The new girl was curled in a ball in the furthest corner, lying on her side and sobbing uncontrollably.
“Hey!” Angeline called. “My name is Angeline. What’s yours?”
The sobbing continued unabated.
“Oh, leave it alone,” Adora grumbled. “She’ll settle down eventually.
“I’m from Vastitas Cluster,” Angeline continued, ignoring Adora. “Her name is Adora. She’s from Elysium.”
Angeline gave up after a few more attempts to communicate. Adora was right: the new girl would calm down eventually. She knew from experience that grief was exhausting. There came a point when it took too much effort to keep crying. The fear and loss didn’t go away, but in time the new girl would discover the futility of tears.
There were other things that demanded Angeline’s attention. The stolen stunrod hidden in her blanket dragged at her. She was terrified about the theft. How long would it take them to realize there was a stunrod missing? Would they suspect her? Would they search her cage, force her to turn out her bedding? Or the next time they were brought to Dr. Lenbroke would someone check their cages?
She wanted to go lie down on her cot, but what if she acted unnaturally? Would they suspect something? The cot was barely wide enough for her to lay down on it, her blanket only slightly larger. How would she hide the stunrod during the night while she slept?
And, of course, when would she use it? She had to use it when someone opened her cage alone. She thought back, and realized with a sinking feeling that every time her cage door was open, there had been at least two people in the room. She thought she could surprise a single guard, but the second guard would overpower her.
If only she had the kind of fighting ability Min had! The marshal had been incredible. Yes, he had fallen eventually, but not before he had killed one man and incapacitated two others. If he had had a weapon he would have eliminated all of his opponents.
Marshal Yang might have been captured, but he had given Angeline the means to free herself, even if accidentally. Now it was up to her to make the most of the opportunity.
Adora started stretching in preparation for an exercise period, her second for the day. Reluctantly, Angeline followed her. She felt stronger already, and the exercises were getting easier, but she had no illusions. Compared to Min, or even Adora, she was hopelessly weak. Adora had been training for years using weights and her body was taut and strong. Angeline had only been exercising for a week now. She wasn’t constantly sore any more, but it would take years before she had the physical strength to directly contest one of the men who held her captive.
Still, the exercises might give her that little bit of an edge she needed in order to survive. And, of course, the exercises might delay her period.
Angeline gritted her teeth and pushed herself to keep up the rotation of exercises as long as Adora did. Pushups, crunches, squats, burpees, and back to pushups again. By the time Adora finished her fifth set and ended with a series of stretches, Angeline felt ragged and worn out. She also felt ravenously hungry. It was still early in the afternoon, too early for dinner, but she couldn’t wait any longer.
The portion she had reserved for her dinner disappeared remarkably fast. All she had left were a few sheets of nori.
“Why are you exercising?”
Angeline looked up to find the new girl staring at her. She was of Chinese descent, with wide eyes and a skinny frame even by Martian standards. She was plain looking, with uneven teeth that overlapped each other wildly.
“Hello,” Angeline said. “To keep our… Just to pass the time.” She didn’t know why she was being secretive, but she had had a sudden flashback to Jasmine and her betrayal of Eva. If this new girl told the guards she was exercising to delay her period in an attempt to earn favor, it would ruin everything.
“You said your name was Angeline? I’m Xinyi Jun.”
“Hi, Xinyi.”
“And I’m Adora.”
“How long have you guys been here? Where are we? What’s going to happen to us?”
Angeline shared a look with Adora. She really didn’t want to answer those questions.
“Fucking guess,” Adora snapped, rolling her eyes.
Xinyi’s face fell and tears started running down her face again. “I’m… I’m sorry.” She sniffed and wiped her tears away. “I don’t know why I’m here. I fell asleep at the market while my mom shopped, then I woke up in a box.”
Angeline felt a distinctly uncharitable irritation at Xinyi’s obtuseness. “You’ll figure it out eventually,” she said, then immediately felt bad about it. Xinyi went to her cot and curled up again. Her shoulders shook with her sobs, but they were soundless this time.
“I prefer her crying,” Adora said, glaring over at the cage opposite.
Angeline flapped the hem of her shirt, trying to get airflow around her body to help dry the sweat. She had been in the same shirt since she arrived, and it was stained with sweat and food and smelled terrible. She thought about taking the shirt off and washing it as best she could, but then she would have to wrap her blanket about herself until it dried, and that would leave the stunrod exposed.
So, lacking any other option, she kept the shirt on and tried to get it dry while she still wore it. It didn’t work very well, and her arms were tired from exercising. Then, since she didn’t have anything else to do, she lay down in her cot. The stunrod dug into her back. It was two inches in diameter, and even collapsed, was as long as her forearm. She shifted around, trying to find a way to lie in her cot comfortably without exposing the weapon.
Time passed. Angeline found she could put the stunrod between her legs without too much discomfort and eventually dozed off. The lights turning out for the night woke her and she sat up abruptly. Between her legs, the green charge light of the stunrod was visible through her thin blanket. Angeline’s heart pounded and she reached down to rotate it until the light wasn’t visible any more.
She had forgotten that the stunrod needed to be charged to work. She wasn’t certain about it, but didn’t batteries drain over time? Even if they didn’t, having the stunrod made Angeline far too nervous. She had to take her chances. If things went as normal, tomorrow would be a visit to Dr. Lenbroke.
Trying to move quietly, Angeline crawled out of her cot, taking a moment to make sure the stunrod was fully covered by the blanket. She moved about her cage carefully and put things into position. She didn’t have much to work with, but everything she had she put to use.
With everything prepared as best she could, she climbed back into her cot. Sleep, when it finally came, with fitful and brief. After she woke in a sweat for the third time, she gave it up as a bad idea and went to her position. She was nervous and scared, but more than anything else, she was excited. She was not a violent girl by nature, but she looked forward to the morning. More than anything else, finally taking action and doing something on her terms gave her a giddy sense of determination.
She would do everything she could to regain her freedom. If that wasn’t enough, so be it, but at least she would have tried.
The morning lights came on and Angeline squinted her eyes against the sudden brightness. She was standing with her back to the wall, both hands behind her back. Her waste bucket was against the door, partially hidden by the hatch at the bottom.
Adora sat up and rubbed her eyes. She saw Angeline against the wall and her brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything. Stiffly, Adora began her morning stretches.
Angeline had already done her stretches an hour ago. She was feeling loose and strong. Part of her wanted to tell Adora what she was planning, but she was afraid of what Xinyi would do. Adora she could trust to play along, but would the new girl panic? Tell the guards? Act unnaturally? No, it was best to leave both girls in the dark.
She had been sta
nding for an hour before the lights came on, and when the sound of footsteps outside the door sounded, Angeline felt relieved. Her legs were getting tired, but she forced herself to stand naturally. There was nothing wrong. Nothing unusual.
The door swung open and two men entered the room. Angeline had heard their names yesterday. What were they? Mateo was one of them, and the one with his arm in a splint was Vito. Mateo strode across the room and stopped in front of Adora’s cage.
“Back up against the wall.” He pulled out his stunrod and snapped it to full length. “I’m not in the mood for any of your shit, girl. You fuck with me, I’ll put you in a coma, understand?”
Adora nodded and ducked her head meekly, but Angeline could tell she was furious. Adora backed up to the wall and stood against it, the same way Angeline was. Mateo nodded and unlocked her cage. Adora held out her hands and let him zip tie them together.
Mateo pulled Adora out of the cage and shoved her in the direction of Vito. “Hold onto that one while I get the other.”
Angeline kept her face down, praying that nothing in her expression gave her away. If there was something visible, Mateo didn’t see it. He unlocked Angeline’s door and pushed it open. The edge of the door caught Angeline’s pail and knocked it spinning across the floor, spreading a pool of waste behind it.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Mateo groaned. “I’m going to make you clean that up when you get back.” He gingerly stepped into the cage, placing his feet in the dry spots. His gaze was on the ground, his attention on keeping his shoes clean.
Angeline lunged off the wall, the stunrod already stretched to its full length. She pressed the power button as she swung and the end of the rod snapped into life. Mateo was just looking up when Angeline smashed the end of the rod into his shoulder, at the base of his neck.
The stunrod cracked and Mateo gave a choked scream. Electricity coursed through his nervous system and he jerked wildly, legs and arms out of his control. Angeline drew the stunrod back and Mateo collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut.