Ascendancy

by Karri Thompson

  “Yeah, I can handle it now,” I said, hanging at the window.

  “You don’t have to put yourself through this. I can—”

  “No. Really. I’m okay.”

  The line marched across the yard, coming closer to the supply room, and I examined each of their faces, hoping to find a glimmer of optimism in some of their eyes.

  And then…could it be? No! How could it be possible?

  The square jaw, dark eyes, and full lips—there was no mistake.

  I’d seen the dead body myself! But there he was. There was no explaining it. My heart kicked into a palpable beat, my hands shook, and goose bumps rode up my arms. When Michael took a deep breath and dropped his head, it confirmed my suspicions.

  It was Victoria’s father, the clone of my long-dead boyfriend: Travel Lee Carson III.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Breathing was almost impossible. If I hadn’t felt my carotid artery pulsing in my neck, I would have thought my heart stopped beating, too. “Travel!” I wanted to scream, but my throat clogged before I could say the words. Losing all of my sensibilities, I raised my opened hand and positioned my key at the door to unlock it. My legs tensed for a sprint once it did. “Tra—!”

  “No,” said Michael. Grabbing both of my arms. “Not yet!”

  “But we need to get him. We need to let him know we’re here.” I couldn’t catch my breath. Something deep inside me pushed to be released—the urge to touch Travel and hold the face of my friend in my hands. To pull his frail body toward me and lock my arms around him.

  “If you go out there now, you’ll be caught and we’ll never get our daughters.” Michael gave me a quick shake, making eye contact, but I looked past him, through the window at Travel as he walked single file toward Lab One.

  The rhythm of Travel’s walk, his swagger, and his gait of confidence was still intact. Even the cruelty of Area Four couldn’t take that away from him.

  “Cassie, get a hold of yourself! There’s nothing we can do for him right now.” Michael held me as I tried to wiggle away. But he was right. I’d run to Travel, and then what—get captured and sent before the warden and Dr. Little?

  I winced as the lab door closed, and as I sank against the wall, I realized I was shaking. “Calm down. You almost blew it for us,” he said.

  I did almost blow it, but something in me had snapped. “But he’s alive. Travel’s alive,” I said.

  His expression was hard when he should have been as surprised as me.

  “Oh, my God! You knew he was here, didn’t you? You saw him earlier at the roll call before breakfast. That’s why you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Why didn’t you tell me? No more secrets, remember?”

  The anger I had for Michael resurfaced. The memory of all of his past lies, while I thought he was just a geneticist and not part of the plot to keep me pregnant and producing females, never disappeared, but stayed packed in my heart like a stick of dynamite waiting to explode. Keeping Travel’s presence from me ignited the fuse.

  “You promised me. No more lies!” I spoke in a harsh whisper.

  “I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t tell you because that clone isn’t Travel. It can’t be. It has to be Travel Three or maybe even Travel Four or Five, depending on how many reclones they’ve made of him.”

  “Three, four, or five? No, it can’t be!”

  He said calmly, “The first Travel killed himself in his cell at GenH1. I saw the body myself. The body Dr. Little showed you was Travel’s reclone. That means the clone you just saw was a reclone of a reclone. At a minimum, he’s the third copy, unless he was recloned again.”

  His condescending tone did little to stamp out the flickering fire in my heart, but what he said did make sense. As he loosened his grip on my arms, I let my shoulders drop.

  “I was as shocked as you were when I saw him this morning. I was about to tell you, and then I realized there was no way it could be the Travel we knew.” He licked his dry lips. “Why upset you by having you see how they’ve used his DNA unethically? We both need to be as strong as possible if we’re going to find our daughters and Shen-Lung.”

  Logic told me he was right, that a whip of the jealously he’d had for Travel no longer remained. But how could a reclone possess the same gait and rock of the shoulders when he walked?

  There wasn’t any time to drag those questions over and over because a shiny black flyer entered Area Four, slowly dropping its hoverment after clearing the fence of fake trees. As it lowered to the center of the yard, the warden, Dr. Little, and a woman we hadn’t seen before strolled across the concrete toward the flyer.

  The woman was pretty, in her early twenties, and curved like Ella. Like Dr. Little, she wore a thin, dark-green uniform with pants that widened toward the ankle, but unlike Dr. Little, whose overall appearance fit the unappealing atmosphere of the compound, something about her just didn’t click.

  “She must be another geneticist,” said Michael.

  “Yup, and I know where she lives.”

  “Where?”

  “Residence One. In the living unit with the potted plant on the front step.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Look at her right ear.” And there, tucked behind it and snuggled against her brown hair was a red flower identical to the ones growing in the clay pot. Thomas Three copied her when he showed up at the morning roll call with a flower behind his ear. “She must be Dr. Heart.”

  “You’re right. And there’s that bastard Harrington,” he said.

  President Harrington stepped from the grounded flyer, his attention immediately drawn toward Dr. Heart. Smug and trying to act debonair, Harrington shook her hand first before the warden’s or Dr. Little’s. Her only reaction was a soft smile.

  “And there’s—” I couldn’t believe it. Mia Clover.

  She hadn’t changed. She wore the same crisp bun and red lipstick, though instead of bearing the title of head security officer, she had earned the label of a cold-blooded killer. Mia and her team stood with their arms at their sides while greetings continued between the warden, Little, and the president, and ended with the three of them laughing. Dr. Little’s jowls jiggled as he threw back his head, and I thought of Claus on the floor in the banquet room next to his shattered case, and hoped the fertility idol would be rescued by someone who’d appreciate its value.

  Their laughter stopped and their faces took on an air of seriousness as Dr. Little unfolded his Liaison. When he pointed toward Ward One, the men proceeded in that direction with the security team in tow.

  “Yup, I bet they’re going straight to the twins.” Michael moved until he was behind me with his cheek against my ear. “But Harrington’s attack against Tasma wasn’t a success. He doesn’t have you or Victoria.” That wasn’t enough to kill my continued anger toward Magnum.

  As his breath hit my shoulder, giving me a sweet chill, I couldn’t decide if I was still mad at him or not for not telling me about Travel’s reclone. It wasn’t up to him to protect my feelings. After what I’d been through since my awakening, I could handle anything, and he should know that.

  “Hey, it looks like Mia’s limping,” said Michael.

  Favoring her right foot, Mia’s shoulders rocked a bit awkwardly as her left leg bore the majority of her weight.

  “Maybe from the Tasmanian devil bite.”

  “She probably didn’t bother to get the proper treatment until it was too late, and it festered,” he said. “There’s a lot of bacteria in an animal bite. Even with advanced antibiotics, it would take longer to heal.”

  “Thanks, Taz,” I said under my breath.

  An hour later the group left Ward One and strolled across the yard. Mia, who waited outside the entrance keeping post, was a wilted mess by the time Harrington and his crew returned. Her bun was soggy from the humidity, and she removed half her lipstick when she wiped the sweat from her face with her sleeve.

  “I’m sure the warden is being a gracious host, taking them to the comm
ons for a late lunch before showing them their quarters.” I snorted.

  As the sun dipped behind the trees, the men from Lab One shuffled back onto their numbers, prodded by the warden, while their L-Band alarms rang through the yard like eerie bird tweets.

  “I don’t see him,” I said as we peeked through the supply-room window.

  “It’s not the real Travel.”

  “I know. You’ve already convinced me of that. I’m talking about his reclone. I want to see it again.” But had Michael truly convinced me? No, he hadn’t. What if it was Travel, and we left him here to suffer among the reclones? I couldn’t do that to him. I had to make sure it wasn’t the original Travel, Victoria’s father and my dear friend. He had been so kind when I was imprisoned in Gen1H, pregnant and miserable, and he fought to save our baby, even while they dragged him away. If it was really him, I couldn’t leave him behind.

  “He’s right there, going to the same spot where he was before,” he said.

  And he was, his head hung low, his feet dragging. The warden gave him a shock. The electric current hit the reclone behind the knee, and his knee immediately buckled, dropping the copy of Travel to the concrete. The warden came up behind the reclone and gave it a sharp kick in the ribs.

  “That son of a clone! He better not touch him again.”

  “Or what, Cassie, you’re going to run out there and stop him? That clone is not Travel.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want the warden hurting any of them. Doesn’t it bother you to see these men treated like this?”

  “Of course it does. But we’re here to do one thing: get our daughters, maybe even Shen-Lung, and then get the hell out of this place. We can’t save all of them.”

  “I know.”

  He was right, but the thought of leaving those poor people here to suffer continued to eat at my conscience, making me feel sick inside.

  “And what’s with this ‘son of a clone’ thing? You’ve said it at least half a dozen times since we left GenH3.”

  “So?”

  “Well, I’m a little offended by it. I’m a clone. Did you forget that?”

  “No, I didn’t. How could I?”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean? I’m sorry I wasn’t biologically derived like you were. I’m sorry I wasn’t gestated in the womb of a living, fertile female, but I kinda couldn’t help it,” he said sarcastically.

  “What is wrong with you? It’s just an expression. It isn’t meant to be derogatory. If it bothers you, I won’t say it again.”

  What the hell was up with him? I crossed my arms but kept my position at the window watching Travel’s reclone while Michael paced the room then sat down with his back away from me. Wow! This was our first real fight that had nothing to do with deception, trust, or the Van Winkle Project. His jealousy triggered this one.

  There was no reason for him to be jealous. My feelings for Travel were on a brotherly level. Through Victoria, Travel and I were connected, but that connection had nothing to do with romance. I loved Travel, but I wasn’t in love with him. Michael had to get over that.

  On cue, the men formed a line, and with a SEC as the leader, marched toward the commons for dinner. Ignoring him, I dug through our bag until I found a container of dried beef chips. With my back on the opposite wall from him, I ate quickly and retreated to the tiny restroom to wash my hands and splash water on my face.

  A small mirror hung above the sink, and as I lifted my head, I saw a face from almost a year ago, the girl awakened, pale and baggy eyed, recovering from a long sleep of death. Damn! I looked like crap. The stress, the lack of sleep and proper food, and the separation from my baby had taken its toll.

  Michael didn’t look any better. Harrington’s betrayal was probably pulling at him, and now jealousy was eating at his heart, turning him into someone I didn’t want him to be.

  “Cassie,” he said, when he heard me return. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, too.”

  He scooted until he was next to me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder to signal that my bitter feelings had dissipated.

  “I love you, Cassie, and even though Victoria isn’t my daughter, I love her like she is. I want to be a father to her, you know that, so when I saw Travel’s reclone, I couldn’t help hating him for being her real father, something I wish I was.”

  “But Travel’s dead. He’s no threat to you.”

  “I know, but just like it did for you, seeing his reclone stirred up some of my old feelings.”

  “Yeah, I understand. I mean, I was ready to run out into the quad the minute I saw him.” I laughed.

  He kissed me, and I ran my hands down his arms to feel his tight muscles against my palms. We stayed like that, embracing and comforting each other. Who knew when all this would end?

  “It’s almost dark,” said Michael some time later.

  “Then it’s time to come up with a plan,” I said, unrolling the E-Paper and enlarging Ward One so we could locate and memorize every backdoor, bot closet, and the location of every hidden obscura.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Ready, Michael? This is it.”

  I pulled him against my chest for a kiss and he gave me one, hot and hard, in case we got caught and never saw each other again.

  We tiptoed across the yard toward one of the many buildings on the compound, shoulder to shoulder, looking left and right for bots. When we reached the grid of numbers stamped into the gray concrete, I hesitated above the spot where Travel’s reclone stood for roll call and marveled at the irony that he was assigned number 22, which would also be his current age had he not taken his own life.

  Warm drops of water fell from the sky, and I watched them splat against the number. Michael’s shadow spread across the water-spotted concrete, his spear at his side, and I stood in awe once again at his caveman-stature and the way the shadow of his weapon telescoped as he prepared for a battle that may or may not happen.

  He had changed so much, grown and matured. Despite his earlier display of jealousy, I admired the man he was becoming, and I realized I cared deeply about him. He was the kind of man I could fall in love with, once I had time to think about anything besides getting my daughters back.

  A SEC crossed the yard. We lay low, our backs against Lab One, and watched it pass. We dashed to the next building and then the next, slipping past obscuras and hiding in the shadows whenever a bot appeared.

  Ward One had four back doors. We’d head for a hall off the common room that contained a double bot closet.

  Michael was as anxious as I. He cracked his knuckles and wiped his palms off on his pants then angled his wrist at the bot closet to unlock it. There was no ding thanks to our inhibitors, but a red light flashed twice as it slid open. To slow it down, he caught the door with his hand as it retracted, and I peeked inside.

  “It’s clear,” I whispered, scanning a dimly lit room with white plastic furniture, including a large table with the board game, Ascendancy, positioned in its center.

  Once inside, the door closed behind us with an audible suck of air, and we skirted the perimeter of the room. At the hallway, I stole a look around the corner.

  “There’s a MED at the end of the hall,” I whispered.

  “It should be okay,” he said after taking a peek. “It’s plugged into the PNS for the night, the Patient Network System. It’s monitoring the heart rate of every patient in this wing. The MED won’t move or disconnect itself unless it detects a change in one of the patients’ vitals.”

  But his confidence did little to make me less nervous. I hated bots almost as much as I hated President Harrington, and I’d take delight in destroying any of them.

  While he moved ahead of me, focused on the MED, I paused at each window I passed, searching for the twins’ room and Travel’s reclone. Would the girls be together, or for some cruel reason were they being kept separated so they couldn’t share the outcomes of their fate?

  Each patient lay upo
n a bed with a thin mattress and white sheets. Despite the climate-controlled interior of the building, most patients slept uncovered, their sheets clumped awkwardly at the foot of the bed like they were kicked away from the patient experiencing a nightmare.

  “Cassie,” said Michael, and I trotted back up behind him while the MED stood in stasis.

  This wing contained an extension not seen in the other residences, a stretch of building that cut to the left. The twins had to be there, and our suspicions were confirmed when he mouthed the word “SEC” to me after he poked his head around the corner.

  “Now what?” I mouthed back.

  He pointed for me to follow him.

  “I’ll take care of the bot,” he whispered when I was behind him. “As long as I can get to it before it knows I’m there.”

  “But what about its distress signal?” As a former bot killer, I knew all about that.

  “All bots have one weakness. I learned what it was when I attacked that SEC at GenH3. Trust me.”

  Keeping close to the wall, he waved at me to stay back while he approached. The bot was oblivious to his presence, its telescoping eyes drawn into its head, its hands at its sides, and its weapon still at its waist.

  Michael raised his spear and with a grunt rammed it deep into the top of the SECs left shoulder where it joined at the neck. A spray of sparks flew from the entry point, sizzling as they burned to the floor. As I winced, looking around and seeing no one coming to the bot’s defense, he pushed with all of his weight, twisting his spear deeper while the bot’s head jerked in a spasm. Its right arm went limp before it could reach for its weapon.

  One more wrench and the spear dislodged the bot’s arm from its socket. It dropped, dangling by a thin, red wire. Michael gave it a yank with his free hand, releasing the mechanical arm to the floor. Its weapon slipped from a built-in holster, and he snatched the tiny gun from the floor, started to put it in his pocket, but changed his mind and handed it to me instead. I gave him a nod and tucked the pistol in my waist band.

  A ting echoed through the entire wing, awakening the patients in the room closest to me. I watched through the window as two of the men rose to a sitting position, glanced at each other for an explanation, and when there was none, dropped back down to their pillows and pulled the sheets to their chins.