Provenance I - Flee The Bonds

by V J Kavanagh

  She turned and captured his admiring stare. ‘What?’

  He returned her smile. ‘I was wondering what you wanted to do today.’

  ‘I thought we could go up to the mill and tonight, if you’re good, I’ll cook.’

  ‘Sorry Pen, I’ve got to work tonight. What about tomorrow?’

  Penny returned to the range, ‘I’m working tomorrow, never mind.’

  Guilt simmered in Steve’s empty stomach. She deserved the truth, and unfortunately she might hear it one day.

  He sat down and Penny joined him with two steaming mugs of coffee.

  ‘Thanks. I’m sorry about tonight.’

  ‘So am I. Are you home next Friday, or is the Food Ministry going to make you work another weekend?’

  He wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders, ‘I’ll make sure I am.’

  Her closeness worked its charm. Steve lowered his head and found her lips.

  08:57 SAT 21:10:2119

  Red Zone, London, England, Sector 2

  Jason stared at the viewscreen dominating the wall ahead, the luminosity of its bold white text lost in the subterranean ops room. ‘HEADQUARTERS SPECIAL OPERATIONS SECTOR 2’. Beneath that, a silver planet Earth gleamed inside four polished steel rings. He and the other Advocates represented the inner ring, Continuity’s and humanity’s last line of defence. Unlike Steve, Jason didn’t have a problem with the ethics. Continuity were selected for their genetic purity and the fact that only the wealthiest could afford to join the PURE program was, in his opinion, just another form of natural selection.

  The reception screen faded, replaced by the head and shoulders of two middle-aged men in the starched navy and white uniforms of Continuity Security Command. Jason knew both Admirals well. The frowning Choo was a mandarin who’d commanded his desk all the way up to the top deck, the easy-going Admiral Smithson’s route was apparent from his medal bars. Jason slicked back his hair and came to attention, stretching his graphite leather jacket across his powerhouse frame.

  Choo spoke first, ‘Why are you are not in uniform Commander Valenbrotti?’

  ‘Sorry Admiral, I didn’t realise it was a command briefing.’

  He didn’t look great, but Choo wouldn’t understand why. It didn’t rain in space.

  Admiral Smithson interjected; ‘Sit down please Jason.’

  Jason pulled out a high backed chair, one of six that curved around the semicircular smoked glass table.

  Admiral Smithson’s paternal tone continued, ‘We’ve received some worrying intel Jason; the Resistance may have infiltrated CONSEC. I’m going to hand over to Captain Kalckburg for the briefing.’

  Jason’s chest clamped. It couldn’t be. He exhaled only after the screen split and a woman appeared in the right-hand frame. No, it wasn’t that Captain Kalckburg, although she did have the characteristic lumpy jaw.

  She was about the same age as him, early thirties. Her straggly chestnut hair surrounded a flushed plump face dotted with grey eyes. The amply filled purple uniform was that of Psychological Operations, its lilac collar and epaulettes made her a Profiler. Three silver bars on the upright collar indicated her rank and the silver number twelve on the epaulettes her Level. Jason shifted in his seat. As a Level 12 Profiler, she probably knew him better than his mom.

  ‘Good morning Commander, my name is Jannae Kalckburg. We have met before?’ Her accent carried a Germanic tone, her thin smile a worrying familiarity.

  Jason’s pulse quickened, ‘No, why?’

  ‘For no reason. Please authenticate.’

  Jason inserted his ID card into the tabletop slot. The adjacent display sprang to life, emitting a single command. ‘AUTHENTICATE’. He pressed his thumb on the Biofield Reader Decoder, waited for the beep, and raised his head. Her smile had disappeared.

  ‘Thank you Commander. This briefing is classified Level Twelve. Do you understand what that means?’

  Jason sighed. ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Commander!’ Choo’s face had crumpled into a snarl, ‘Continuity is in danger. If you disclose information, we will revoke your Citadel status and tell SIS why. Do you understand that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Jason’s focus shifted to Jannae Kalckburg’s deadpan expression and monotone voice.

  ‘Two Advocate Commanders have been assassinated. One outside CST Beijing, Sector 3, and the other near Judiciary Headquarters in Washington Sector 1. You understand the significance of the locations?’

  Jason did. The Resistance had penetrated the most secure zones on Earth. Continuity Security Tower in Beijing had triple-A security. ‘They’re both in Red Zones.’

  A schoolteacher’s smile stretched her lumpy jaw. ‘Correct, and we believe they have help from someone inside CONSEC.’ She glanced down. ‘Why did you not attend seminar 2590?’

  Jason’s mind raced. He’d always avoided PSYOPS boring lectures, but he couldn’t admit that in front of Choo. ‘Active duty.’

  Her round cheeks dimpled. Jason tensed. Oh great, she’s gonna ask me what date that was.

  She didn’t. ‘Very well Commander. If the Admirals permit, I will give you a summary.’

  Choo permitted, ‘Continue.’

  ‘Thank you Admiral. In 2046, forty years after the discovery of Colossus, the insurrection began. Resistance members were those outside Continuity, the Drones. They declared war against the Council and against what they saw as the inhumanity of Continuity’s selection process. Only a lack of technology prevented their success. Today, seventy-three years later, the Resistance’s internal structure is more complicated. Prevention Utilising Responsible Eugenics removed abnormalities from ancestral genes. Advancements in PURE created TYPEs, an elite within Continuity. The majority who were not TYPEs realised that they, and their descendants, would never go to Provenance. Those who felt most embittered took their resentment and their wealth to the Resistance. The Drones’ aspirations have become an ideological irrelevance; the Resistance want to destroy Continuity.’

  Jason knew all about TYPEs. Transformation Yielding Performance Enhancements had created super human psychos. The clinics required a six-figure credit line, and only the wealthiest psychos could keep up.

  ‘Well I suppose the Council would have stepped in long ago, if they weren’t all taking a cut.’ The Admirals’ silent concurrence didn’t surprise Jason. TYPEs held most of the key positions on the Council, and all of them in SIS. Thankfully, psychological profiling had precluded them from Advocate selection.

  Jannae’s grey eyes probed. ‘I am not SIS, so your opinion of the Council is not important. What is important is you understand the threat from the Resistance. In 2097, the Council made childbirth illegal to reduce the number of people who would witness the impact, and lessen the guilt of those leaving on Provenance. The law was also — as you know — intended to weaken the Resistance. It has failed.’

  In Jason’s periphery, the viewscreen’s chronometer burned into his consciousness, 10:06. He had a lot of prep to do before his date with Carine.

  Jannae’s voice dragged him back. ‘Commander?’

  ‘Failed how?’

  ‘Jason.’ Admiral Smithson’s tone had sharpened. ‘It has failed to stop the growth of the Resistance. If they infiltrate CONSEC, they could obtain tech weaponry, attack the air hubs and destroy the ships. Continuity would be stuck on Earth.’

  ‘What are you suggesting, sir?’ Jason had aimed the question at Admiral Smithson, but Choo answered.

  ‘We do not suggest Commander, we tell you. The Council have ordered the Judiciary to investigate Advocates. An SIS Prosecutor and PSYOPS Evaluator will join each Quad as Undercover Field Operatives. The UFOs will discover who is Resistance. That is why you must not discuss this briefing.’

  Jason’s concern focused on Admiral Smithson, ‘Sir, why involve Prosecutors? They’re a bunch of sadistic TYPEs.’

  There was no love lost between CONSEC and the Special Investigation Servic
e. Advocates killed in defence of Continuity, SIS Prosecutors killed on a whim.

  Choo’s eyebrows bristled. ‘Listen to me Commander. SIS say an Advocate has joined the Resistance, and they ask for a watch order on Captain Arrowsbury. Why is that?’

  Jason winced at the sound of Steve’s name. What’s he gone and done now? He didn’t have a problem with Steve’s benevolence towards the Drones; he found it strangely cathartic. The problem was SIS.

  Choo didn’t wait for a response. ‘Advocates are the most trusted in CONSEC, if an Advocate helps the Resistance, Prosecutor terminates. Now you understand?’

  Admiral Smithson’s tone warmed the frigid air. ‘You can’t blame the Council, Jason. The closer Colossus gets, the more dangerous the Resistance become. I don’t like the idea of SIS and PSYOPS in the Quads either, but if there is a rogue Advocate, we need to find them.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Jason knew what the Admiral wasn’t saying. The Council lived on Provenance and their paranoia had given SIS too much power. That’s why they’ve ordered PSYOPS to shadow the Prosecutors.

  Smithson smiled. ‘Enjoy the rest of your weekend — and don’t make life difficult for your Guardian. Remember, your deadliest enemy is the one you haven’t met.’

  The Admirals faded out, leaving only the pokerfaced Jannae Kalckburg. ‘You should listen to the Admiral Commander. A Guardian is assigned to protect Advocate Commanders for the sake of the thousands of Continuity who they protect.’

  Jason decided not to reply. CONSEC recorded everything in SOHQ, so they could play it back at your court-martial.

  Jannae’s face softened. ‘Be careful Jason — and thank you.’

  With her enigmatic smile still visible, Jason whipped his ID card from the slot. The screen blanked. He’d talk to Steve about Jannae. Three months ago, he and Steve had rescued a Captain Gerhard Kalckburg from an SIS frame-up and took him off net. Now someone with a striking family resemblance turns up.

  Coincidences rarely are.

  10:33 SAT 21:10:2119

  Intra Zone, Seine-et-Marne, France, Sector 2

  Kacee’s harness gave her a reassuring tug as Francois banked the jet-hover. The pastel blue sky gave way to autumnal meadow and bronze woodland. She raised her MCD and took another photograph. Only the bulbous transparent canopy separated her from the gleaming fairytale palace, three hundred metres below.

  Château Castiglione near Chamery-la-Montagne was Francois’s ancestral home and the largest house Kacee had ever seen. An enormous hollow square, with a round tower at each corner, sat on a cream base cut into lush green baize. Steep Prussian-blue roofs crowned soaring ivory walls peppered with rows of tall windows. Her red-lipped smile reflected in the canopy. It would make a beautiful wedding venue. She looked back over her shoulder.

  ‘Fantastic ain’t it?’ Morton appeared unimpressed, his stubbled polymer skin paler than normal under the glare of the morning sun. She shook her head and returned to the view below. To an Artificial Human, the concept of beauty was as abstract as beauty itself.

  Francois’s voice rose above the engine whine. ‘It is magnificent, yes?’

  Kacee spoke to the canopy. ‘Sure is. Who are all those people?’

  ‘Ah. Henri arranges the welcome.’

  Kacee shifted around to face him. ‘They all work here?’

  A perfect white smile beamed from Francois’s bronzed face. ‘Of course, Castiglione is a large house.’

  As he guided the jet-hover down, Kacee wondered if this weekend would prove more enjoyable than she’d first thought.

  They landed on a paved square in front of the chateau, the only part of the seemingly endless driveway that wasn’t tree-lined. Francois climbed out, strolled around to her door and opened it with a smile.

  ‘Bienvenue chez moi Madame.’

  Together, they climbed the curved stone steps. At the top, Kacee squinted into the terrace’s sun-baked expanse. Below the chateau’s immense cream walls, she could almost see the Lipizzaner stallions, gilded carriages and glimmering silk dresses flowing out from under V-shaped bodices.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  She returned Francois’s smile. ‘It’s like something out of a fairy tale.’

  His cool hand found hers. ‘Let us meet Henri and the others, they have much to do.’

  Fine gravel crunched beneath her shoes as Francois led her to a line of people stretching out from the entrance steps. An officious man with combed-back silver hair and a black suit stepped forward.

  ‘Bonjour Monsieur, Comment allez-vous?’

  ‘Très bien Henri.’ Francois extended his arm. ‘Je vous présente mon ami, Madame Merblayn.’

  An almost smile accompanied Henri’s nod. ‘Madame.’ At the command of Henri’s double finger snap, a young woman wearing a healthy outdoor tan and a short charcoal dress left the line and hurried towards them.

  Kacee turned to Francois. ‘That’s very kind, but I can manage.’ She was on a mission and she didn’t need the added complication of a maid.

  Francois disagreed. ‘Non, you are my guest, I want your weekend to be perfect.’

  Kacee smiled down into the woman’s docile eyes peeking out from under the brunette fringe of a severe bob haircut. She knew exactly whose weekend Francois wanted to be perfect. His.

  When she and Francois reached the steps of the monumental porch, he spun around and raised his palm at Morton. ‘Henri will show you to your accommodation Lieutenant Hipparcho.’

  Francois turned to Henri, ‘L'Orangerie, appartement deux.’

  Kacee studied Morton’s indifference. Artificials didn’t understand social hierarchy, or care.

  Francois took her arm. ‘You are safe here. You do not need a bodyguard.’

  She smiled into dark gemstone eyes. ‘Sure.’ Maybe not a bodyguard, but definitely a chaperone.

  They walked through the temple like columned entrance into the cool expanse of the foyer. It was too much for Kacee’s wide eyes to absorb in a single view. Ahead, a wall-size tapestry of a medieval hunting scene hung over a cavernous white marble fireplace. The mountain of marble frosting continued up, flanked on both sides by graceful stone staircases; their cream steps curving up onto a central landing. Arching back her head, Kacee’s wonderment came to rest on a giant pear-shaped chandelier suspended within the domed ceiling’s gold-edged blue squares.

  Her awe-struck eyes descended the cream steps of the left staircase, following the life size portraits lining the curved walls and the elaborate gold fretwork supporting the shiny black banister rail. The larger bottom step spread out onto glossy black-and-white diamond tiles like softened candle wax.

  On both sides of the foyer, columns interspersed butter coloured walls that formed arched corridors leading away to pairs of fortress like cream and gold doors. Life size statues lined the corridors, each lit by a tall window opposite.

  At the sound of Francois’s voice, Kacee closed her drooping mouth.

  ‘It is the home of my ancestors. A gift from the people.’

  ‘Very generous. What did your ancestors do?’

  ‘They protected our country from its enemies. Ah, here is Colette; she will take you to your suite.’

  Kacee followed Colette up the stone steps and onto the landing’s majestic red and gold carpet. They turned left into a wood-panelled corridor. Bowls of crystal light hung from the ceiling, highlighting the gilt-framed battle scenes lining the walls. Eventually Colette stopped and opened a heavily carved door. Kacee smiled and walked past her into the bedroom. It could have swallowed her whole apartment.

  Sunlight poured through four full-height windows, catching the gold braid in the pink curtains. Every piece of the flamboyant cream and gold furniture reflected in a glassy pool of golden-brown parquet flooring. The deep pink draping the four-poster bed continued into the bedcover and pillows. Burnt sienna wood panelling extended halfway up the walls before giving way to pink and cream flowers. Kacee raised her head. Lav
ish patterns in gold, pink and cream decorated the ceiling’s recessed square panels. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all she noticed. 22nd century cameras had found their way into this 17th century bedroom.

  Colette’s hand swept across two ornate cream dressers straddling a coral marble fireplace. ‘I put your clothes in these.’

  ‘Thank you Colette.’

  ‘This is a pretty room, yes Madame?’

  ‘Sure is.’

  ‘It is La Chambre de Pauline.’

  Kacee had studied Francois’s ancestry in depth. ‘Is that Napoleon’s sister?’

  Colette bit her bottom lip. Kacee reached out and gently raised her chin. ‘You can tell me Colette, we are all friends.’

  Colette’s eyes peeked through her fringe. ‘She was a mistress of the Emperor.’

  Kacee smiled. That figures.

  10:57 SAT 21:10:2119

  Red Zone, London, England, Sector 2

  Pulling up his jacket collar and ramming his neck down, Jason left the Food Ministry building and hurried towards the Admiralty Arch barrier. They had wind and rain in New York, but not these endless doom and gloom days. His Mediterranean heritage might be five generations old, but his olive skin still needed a regular dose of solar-powered UV.

  He headed for the dark-blue uniform with gold epaulettes standing under the left-hand arch. CONSEC had more than Defenders protecting Red Zones, every Advocate and SIS Prosecutor had first been a Gold Agent. The uniform stiffened and the female Agent made eye contact.

  ‘Good morning Commander. I’m sorry, but your car has been delayed.’

  Jason snatched up his wrist, 11:03. ‘How long?’

  The Agent’s posture didn’t slack, ‘Forty minutes, sir.’

  Jason looked up towards a distinctive hum. The yellow suitcase-like shell of a Prefect hovered in the shadows of the arch, its antigravity ion discharge producing a faint crackle in the moist air. He stared into its large circular lens and wondered if a nosy human Controller was staring back.