As far as working-class ships went, the MareWind was, even after decades of use, still pretty clean. She wasn’t a miner or ore transport, she handled mostly dry goods, externally in cargo containers. Pick containers up, drop containers off… relatively mess free. Alph Kronich nodded to himself as he made his way down the corridor toward the lift that would take him down to the medical deck - the atmosphere scrubbers could use a good sanitizing too. He could taste the metallic tang and even detect a slight scent of the hydraulic leak that caused the ring seven failure. Yep, a fresh coat of paint, some detailing and new electronics would do her some good. An engine overhaul would probably be in order too, she was starting to get a little greedy on her fuel consumption.
One of the benefits of being an owner-captain was that you had the freedom to choose when and where service took place, allowing the conservation of credits. But then again, you couldn’t beat the quality of the service at UFW Blackmount Station in Feerocobi. True, the Federation space docks at Blackmount were a little more expensive, but their instance of recall warranty work was some of the lowest in the galaxy… Food for thought.
■ ■ ■
While the infirmary of the MareWind was not as technologically advanced as newer ships of her ilk, it was clean, well-stocked and well-attended to care for the needs of her rather sizeable crew. Due to an independent, secondary air handling system, the air in the medical area of the ship had a clean, distinct, medicinal quality to it.
Dictating notes to her e-Pad, one that was in considerably better shape than the Captain’s, Doctor Malma Zahnn met the Captain as he entered, flipping the screen off before greeting him, “Morning Alph, how’s the knee, today?”
“Doc,” acknowledged Kronich, “swelling’s down. The e-stim seems to be helping.”
“I see you’re still wearing the brace - that’s good.”
“Irritates the hellion out of me …”
The Doctor nodded knowingly like she’d heard the same complaint a hundred times before, “I know, Alph, but you need the support. You can take it off if you’re sitting or sleeping - that should help.”
The Captain pursed his lips, “Yes it might…” He glanced in the direction of the treatment rooms, “How’s our young lady? I heard she was awake…”
“She is,” admitted Doctor Zahn, “but she hasn’t said a word. I’m not sure if she capable or not, yet. I’m certainly not going to push her though…”
“No, no, of course not,” agreed Kronich. “But it would be nice to know who she is and where she came from.”
“In time, Alph.”
“Can she have visitors?”
Doctor Zahn waved him in with a long graceful sweep of her arm, “Of course. Socialization might be a catalyst for getting her motivated to become more active.”
■ ■ ■
Smiling as politely as possible, the Captain entered the woman’s room, the lights dimmed to accommodate the sensitivity of her eyes, followed by Doctor Zahn. “Hello young lady, I’m Alph Kronich - Captain of this ship.” The woman in the hospital bed seemed to shrink back into her pillow, her eyes widening.
Malma Zahnn elbowed him gently to get his attention, her arms folded across the e-Pad clutched to her chest. Reaching up to touch her face discreetly when he turned his attention to her, she tapped her cheekbone with her index finger and watched his expression register acknowledgement.
“Sorry my dear,” he apologized, turning away, “I seem to have forgotten something.” His back turned to the woman in the bed, he pinched his left eyelid, popping the black orb out into his hand, depositing it into his pocket. Fishing in the very same pocket, he retrieved several other marbles of varying colors, blowing on them to dust off a fragment of pocket lint. Deciding on a rather pleasant multicolored blue one, he slid it into his mouth to wet it before popping it into the waiting socket, producing an odd, barely audible, slurp. Smiling sweetly, he turned back, “I hope that’s a little better.” Seeing her expression more relaxed, he eased himself into a chair near the side of her bed, “Hope you don’t mind,” he tapped on the leg brace, “bum knee.” He watched her eyes consider his leg before drifting back to his face. Waggling his thumb back over his shoulder, he continued, “The nice lady in the lab coat is Doctor Malma Zahnn - she’s been taking care of you since you joined us… about, oh, six weeks ago. From what she tells us, you were severely injured at some point previous to your visit with us. You came to us healing and you’ve been healing all on your own while you’ve stayed with us… and we haven’t been able to determine how or why. Do you remember what happened?” He watched her dark eyes drift around the dimly lit room, possibly searching her memory.
The young woman blinked slowly. The Doctor stood behind the big man sitting at her bedside, another man lurked in in the shadows of a far corner, a hooded cloak pulled around him. She couldn’t define why, but he was familiar. Images of stars, planets, ships and a million other things rolled through her mind in foggy flashes of memory. Places that were familiar, many that were not.
The big man wore a gold ring with a blue stone, a delicate square and compass’ set into the stone - while she couldn’t put a name to it, she instinctively knew what that signet meant; trust, integrity, conviction. When he reached out and touched her hand, she had no inclination to pull away, their contact allowing her to form a clear and immediate sense of his character…
Alph Kronich gently touched the young woman’s hand, an instant sense of wellness washing over him, causing a deep, easy breath. “We’re on the MareWind, she’s a cargo freighter. We picked up your… escape pod when we passed through Terran space about six weeks ago. I realize you’ve been through some kind of trauma… but can you at least tell us your name?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, an emotional burn causing them to tear up, forcing wetness down her cheeks. She was alive. “Maria…” she breathed, “Lieutenant, Maria Arroyo.”
■ ■ ■
BYAS-KUYOL : RESURRECTION
Byas-Kuyol’s clinic Director, Garlea Marleet sashayed across the clinic lobby, greeting clients and patients, life at the medical facility returning to relative normality. Sporting a little corrective plastic surgery of her own to remove scars resulting from a freak accident at a farm on the jungle fringe, she felt relieved that the incidents were behind her, free to be herself once again. She was not cut out to be an enforcer, she hated breaking a nail or getting her hands dirty, that was a man’s job. She was an arranger, a communicator, a negotiator; she could bring adverse sides together and produce positive results.
For her and her clinic, the bread and butter of business happened to be new identities for anyone wanting a new look. For whatever reason. No questions asked. But the occasional arrangement for some investors went much deeper; clones, synths, hostile takeovers, negotiations… that was where the real money was. And generally, no questions asked there either. With reflection, she decided, perhaps certain questions were a prerequisite for some aspects of her business. For her own safety. And if those questions were too deep, too secret to share an answer, it just might behoove her to turn down the project. This last apocalypse - a prime example of that money reigns supreme attitude, needed some adjustment, for safety’s sake. Or perhaps, being more client selective… But then again, no one completely knows who they’re dealing with - at least not in her business.
Passing a nurse in the corridor, she snagged the woman’s smock by the elbow, “How is Mr. Smythe’s procedure going?”
The nurse paused, shifting her e-Pad to her other hand, “Finishing now, Ms. Marleet. The doctor is completing the dressings - Mr. Smythe will be ready to go back to his hotel this afternoon.”
“Wonderful, I will be sure to have all his release paperwork ready…”
“Director Marleet…?”
Garlea swiveled away from the nurse, to respond to her assistant, “Yes?”
“Your appointment has arrived, Mr. Zabiják, I escorted him to your office.”
■ ■ ■<
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Garlea Marleet entered her office with a charming smile and her hand extended, the man rising from his seat opposite her, at a coffee table positioned in the center of the room. Shaking hands, she was struck by the dominance of his all-black eyes, “Mr. Zabiják, welcome to the Byas-Kuyol Clinic, I am…”
“Director, Garlea Marleet,” he interrupted, finishing her introduction, “good to meet you.” He released her hand and sat down crisply. “Sit, please,” he waved at the settee across the table from him.
Garlea stepped back toward the sofa till the cushion touched the back of her legs, sitting slowly, feeling slightly uncomfortable, uneasy, like she’d somehow lost control of her surroundings. “What is it that we can do for you, Mr. Zabiják? We offer many wonderful serv…” Wordlessly, he slid an envelope across the table toward her. “What is this?” she asked softly, picking it up with some apprehension.
“Your payout, of course.”
After examining the contents, she tossed it on the table with a haughty air, “This isn’t what we discussed.”
“I understand,” replied Mr. Zabiják, calmly, producing a mini e-pad, laying it on the middle of the table. He tapped the surface and it immediately produced a holo-screen in front of her, blank, flickering at her, a hazy logo wavering into clarity; Toberus Interstellar Investments. “I will give you some privacy,” he announced, standing up and moving past her to the entrance of her office. He did not leave, simply securing the door, remaining at the back of the room.
“Ms. Marleet,” said the man on-screen, declining his head till his chin met his steepled fingertips, “I wish I could say it was good to see you…” Fingers adorned with gold rings and diamonds glittered at her.
Garlea Marleet swallowed hard, “Lord Toberus… I…”
“I’m assuming since we’re meeting like this, you were unhappy with your settlement payout.”
Garlea suddenly felt warm, flush, “It’s just that it wasn’t what we had agreed to. My expenses…”
“Are none of my concern,” interrupted Toberus. “We agreed upon a price based on completion of a certain product and its success…”
“But I supplied what you asked for, and on short notice! A superior product…”
Toberus leaned back, crossing his legs at the knee, the camera auto-refocusing. “Which ultimately failed, Garlea…”
“Because the team you sent, failed to do their job properly, and eliminate Steele! Not to mention the thousands in damages they caused to my facility and equipment…”
“Woman,” he snarled, leaning in, his eyes flashing with anger, “have you forgotten who paid for that equipment? And the clone…” he shook his head and tsk-tsked, his eyes flicking up over her shoulder, “that was a direct violation of our agreement.” Garlea Marleet saw only a blur as the garotte wrapped around her throat, the thin wire biting into her flesh. “Shame on you, Garlea, did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” He sighed and leaned back again, “Such an insult.”
Wait, she mouthed, unable to breathe, swallow, or speak, her legs kicking up as her butt left the sofa. Toberus nodded to Zabiják and the wire loosened, Garlea dropping back down, gasping for air, grabbing at the wire. “I created him for you as a backup,” she lied, wheezing, “If the Synth failed…”
“And then you lost him,” interrupted Toberus with a growl. “Not that I believe you actually created the clone for my benefit…”
“I did I swear. Damn Rikit Lobat,” she hissed, “And even unmatured, Steele was very resourceful…”
“Not my problem,” countered Toberus. His eyes flicked up at Zabiják.
Garlea Marleet felt the wire tighten again, “Wait! I can…” the veins on her forehead and neck bulged as she lost the ability to breathe, her tongue sticking out, expression filled with panic, the man with the black eyes lifting her off her seat again. Grasping at the hands who held her, clawing at the wire that suffocated her, her fingers came away bloody, deepening her panic.
Toberus lifted his index finger, pausing Zabiják, “Let’s see what she has to say…”
Zabiják unceremoniously dropped her back down with a plop, holding her upright with the garrote as her body tried to weakly slump to one side. “Out with it, you useless sow - convince me to spare you. Tell me how you can continue to be useful to this organization. Because at this moment you are a simple liability. A horrible failure that needs to be erased.”
Horrified, staring down at her bloody hands, shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face, the phrase she once heard; deal with the devil, suddenly made sense. Garlea Marleet had not only met him - but enlisted his help to finance new equipment for her clinic from him. In doing so, she committed herself to working with him, for him. He owned her.
The man with the dark eyes leaned in close from behind, whispering low in her ear, and it dripped of pure evil… “Although I’d like nothing better than to take your head,” he tugged on the garrote handles for emphasis, “you’d better not keep Mr. Toberus waiting, he is not a patient man.”
“I can create another clone of Steele, for you!” she blurted. “I can create as many as you want!”
Toberus leaned back in his seat, “How? And explain how that helps me now - now that he is back with his people and my agents have been exposed, eliminated.”
“How?” she said, wiping her bloody hands on her slacks. “We keep tissue samples and cloning sequences on every project we work on - in case a client’s clone is damaged and needs replacement or medical repair,” she lied. “It is a safety net that guarantees our clients a secure future…”
Toberus held up his hand, “Please, please, spare me the sales pitch. If it’s a safety net for anyone, it’s you and your clinic.” He massaged his face in contemplation, his eyes cast up toward the ceiling. “Hmmm…”
“It’s only for the clients, I swear it. But we can make use of it to your benefit in this case…”
“Stop talking,” he insisted with a wave, “your voice irritates me…” He nodded at Zabiják and the screen winked out of existence.
“Wait!” she screamed as the wire tightened around her neck.
She felt Zabiják’s hot breath in her ear, his voice dripping with malevolent sweetness, “We will be watching you - so don’t you go anywhere. We’ll be in touch…” he hissed, licking her ear from her earlobe to the top, an evil chill racing through her. The wire disappeared and when she spun around on the sofa, he was gone, the door closing automatically behind him. She wiped her ear with her sleeve, a smear of vile slime transferring to the fabric.
■ ■ ■
It had been just long enough that the mere thought of the black-eyed demon, Zabiják didn’t turn her stomach anymore. It had been a rough week, one that she spent in near isolation - forcing her assistant to intake all the new clients, barely wanting to deal with ones she already knew, cancelling any and all social interaction lest she be touched. The thought of it made her skin crawl. Her poor boyfriend, Casus didn’t understand because she had been afraid to discuss it with anyone for fear it would get back to Toberus. It was exhausting.
The clinic parking lot was all but empty, a few select vehicles scattered about. When she reached her newly repainted burgundy car, the gull-wing door lifted up and away, swinging open for her. She tossed her valise onto the passenger seat and allowed herself to drop wearily into the driver’s seat with a sigh. Maybe she could convince Casus to come over and cook dinner, maybe she could even tolerate a massage… she sure needed it. Though she wasn’t sure how she would explain the garotte cuts around her neck. She mentally shrugged, she’d have to deal with that when the time came.
With the door closed, she reached for the starter button, the vehicle’s comm screen chiming to indicate an incoming call, producing a startled shout. Dammit. Taking a deep breath to slow her heart, she tapped the screen.
“Garlea…”
“L-L-Lord Toberus…” Garlea took a quick glance in the rear-view mirror, half expecting Zabiják to be sitting b
ehind her, setting her stomach in motion. The back seat was empty, but she discreetly reached to the door and activated the auto-locks, the fine hair on the back of her neck standing up.
Toberus leaned back, touching his chest with his fingertips, looking innocent, “Garlea, I’m hurt, to trigger these types of reactions in one of my employees. Hurt that you don’t trust me…” He leaned forward, closer to the camera, “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to use your idea to create another Jack Steele clone. Or two…”
“Oh,” she responded, genuinely surprised. “That’s wonderful.” She smiled uneasily, “I’ll get right to work on that first thing in the morning…”
“Oh, no need,” he waved nonchalantly, “we’ve already started.
Her eyebrows raised, “Huh?”
“Oh, and thanks to the wonderful work of - who was that Lobat character?”
“Rikit Lobat?”
Toberus smiled, a wicked, chilling type of smile, “Yes, that’s it, Rikit… Well he did such a terrific job of maturing the clone you lost - even though he was brought out a little prematurely, we decided to use his work as reference.”
“But how...?”
Toberus’ smile turned to a sly smirk, “You didn’t think I’d pay to upgrade all your equipment and systems without a little redundant protection, did you? I mean, your clinic isn’t the only one we have access to… We have several. All connected to a central database, of course.”
Garlea’s heart was threatening to pound through her chest, “I see…” was all she could manage.
“I also thought I’d introduce you to a new member of your staff,” he continued with a gesture. The door opened on a burgundy car parked across the lot, the gull-wing swinging up and away, a woman stepping out and waving to her. “Garlea… meet Garlea.” Garlea’s mouth fell open in protest, no words coming out. “It occurred to me,” continued Toberus, “to check the database for tissue samples and sequencing of all staff - especially for your clinic. And guess what I found… YOU!” he pointed at her. “You! And not just one but several… with consciousness programming and different identities.”
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