The Kota

by Sunshine Somerville

  I could leave right now, he thought. Take this case and run. It wouldn’t exactly be stealing, since Trok gave me the case. I could run away and never again live on Phantasya. Couldn’t I? Trok would find me and be very, very disappointed, but don’t I have a choice? It’s my life! I never chose to be the Warrior Hunter – I’ve been stuck with this responsibility since I was born and my father made a mess of things. I didn’t ask for this, so couldn’t I say no? I never thought I’d get an opportunity like this. I’m probably the richest thirteen-year-old on this or any other planet! But… But…

  Zaak ruffled his hanging bangs as he debated.

  It wouldn’t be right, he thought. The rebel scientists risked their lives to make these. Most rebels give up their ID tags to avoid Dominion detection, and they lose everything because of it. With these fake tags, I’d be able to fight the Dominion and help the rebels. And I’d use the Dominion’s own money against them – I’d be like Robin Hood with kronar! That’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s what I’ve trained my whole life for. But what do I want for my life? I could… Well, do I want to be Robin Hood or a rich douche bag?

  Zaak set the case down and sat on it to wait for Trok.

  When Trok returned a short time later, he made sure no one was watching and opened a portal. Zaak stood, grabbed up the case, and looked at his uncle.

  “Where are we going now?”

  “Vancouver.”

  “Oh, good,” Zaak joked. “I’ll get to meet my imaginary aunt.”

  Trok laughed as they stepped into the portal. “Just don’t call her Miss.”

  Zaak stood in awe as he gazed at the ocean. The salty smell, the way the sunset reflected off the sparkling water, the sheer power of the waves – it was unlike anything on his desert planet. But this wasn’t why Trok had brought him here.

  Turning, Zaak saw the Dominion compound up on the cliffs. A high electrical fence surrounded the buildings, and only one road led to or from the isolated facility. It seemed an odd neighbor for Vancouver’s main public beach, but Zaak guessed Cruelthor liked to remind the citizens of the Dominion’s presence wherever possible.

  A group of young children scampered by.

  Shoes off, Zaak wiggled his submerged toes in the shifting pebbles. “Okay, so what am I looking at?”

  “A short time ago-”

  “Wait. A short time ago by your standards or mine?”

  Trok smiled and started over. “Within the last fifty years, the Dominion learned how to surgically augment the brain to function at a higher or lower level, depending on the wishes of the surgeon.”

  “Why would they want brains to function at a lower level?”

  “For drone soldiers.” Trok raised an eyebrow. He looked up at the compound. “The Dominion has a cloning program, and all clones undergo cerebral augmentation that strips them of natural personality. They’re imprinted with specific functions, and they do only whatever they’re programmed to do. And they do it well.”

  Zaak made a face. “Are they tough?”

  “Very. They’re raised like Spartans…or cattle. They don’t feel anything. Not remorse, pain, guilt. They just follow orders without compromise, without hesitation.”

  “Creepy robots, then. Got it.”

  “Basically, but they could’ve been human once.” Trok paused a moment as he faced the compound. He didn’t feel the wind or the waves’ vibrations, but Trok’s face showed that he felt something as he looked at the place.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Trok finally told him, “This is the Dominion’s original drone farm and the only one on this Continent. The drones when you were little… Well, they came from here.”

  “The drones that killed my parents?” Zaak too looked at the compound now. He adjusted his grip on the case he still carried, and he felt his throat constrict.

  I barely remember my parents, thought Zaak. My mom… She didn’t deserve to be murdered. And Trok’s told me a lot of stories about my dad. A lot of good stories; some not so good. I hope I don’t take after him half as much as Trok jokes I do, but Lee Kandoya was my father. Trok misses him. I see that all the time when he looks at me.

  Zaak looked up at Trok. “When I unite the Warriors, this will be the first Dominion compound we destroy. I promise, Uncle.”

  Trok, still looking at the drone farm, gave a wan smile. Then, he made the motion with his hand that opened a portal. Little children on the beach stared at the portal lights and pointed with cries of delight.

  “Where to next?” asked Zaak.

  “Home. We’ve done enough for today.” Trok stepped into the portal.

  Zaak took one last look at the ocean before forcing himself to step through.

  Onto sand.

  Zaak felt his body shift to the different conditions of Phantasya. He stood differently in the gravity. His hearing adjusted to the ever-present breeze and blowing sand. He smelled the foliage of the oasis. He looked up and saw it was late evening now, and the orange sky was bright and warm over the dunes. Zaak still felt the wet sea water on his feet, and he smiled as he carried his shoes and the case through the oasis and into the tent.

  Trok was already seated on a crate. “So, thoughts?”

  Zaak sat on his bed of palm leaves and nudged the case at his feet. “This will make a difference. Next time we go back, I’d like to see what the rebels are doing. I need to figure out how I can do better.”

  Trok nodded. “I’ve told you the rebel forces on Earth are basically screwed. Although they fight bravely, the battle seems hopeless to them. Even your allies won’t be much help, Zaak. They’re too beaten down. The Dominion controls everything. And if they ever do have a weakness, they have the wildcard of the DRK virus.”

  “You still think the DRK is the ‘evil’ in the prophecies? Everything involving the Dominion sounds pretty bad, but the virus is the worst evil of ‘em all?”

  “Yes, I’m positive. The population is up compared to how low it dropped when the DRK raged. The virus is less widespread. But, Cruelthor keeps it under his control – that isn’t a good thing, as you might imagine. Because Cruelthor is the only one who knows how the treatment works, the virus is feared above all else. Few people dare rebel because that means no longer having a prayer of getting the treatment, and anyone caught is directly injected with the virus.”

  This virus sucks, thought Zaak. Trok’s fought this battle for centuries and seen every horrific thing the Dominion’s done with the DRK. I’ve seen some of the DRK’s history too. I imagine Trok will soon show me what the virus is doing now…

  Trok sighed. “If you eliminate the DRK, the Dominion’s main weapon, the whole power structure will fall apart. It is the worst evil. But, you’ll have other things to fight too – I hope you’re learning that now. Drones patrol to keep order, and they’re an incorruptible police force because they have no will of their own. Operatives are often well-trained thugs-for-hire who create havoc of their own among the citizens. Dominion executives control all areas of business and science. And, truthfully, the rebels squabble so much that sometimes they end up fighting each other. All in all, Earth is under oppression and without much hope. The state of tyranny is a constant that’s come to be expected as the normal way of life. The world is under control, but it’s an ugly stability. Everything is so different from the way I lived, and the saddest part is that mankind has taken it in stride.”

  Zaak’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I’m beginning to understand.” He tried to meet his uncle’s eyes confidently, but maybe he wasn’t as ready for this as he’d thought. He always tried to please Trok, but for the first time he wasn’t sure he was up for what that might entail.

  No, he thought as he felt his usual eagerness stirring inside. I can do this. The prophecies say I’m a Hunter, and I’ll find a way to do this. I just don’t know as much as I thought I did. Trok’s right; this could take a while before I’m ready.

  Trok looked relieved that Zaak was finally in agreement. “You’ve been
my one partner in this work, Zaak, and I’m proud of you. I really am. I’ve put a lot of responsibility on your shoulders, but I’m seeing more and more that you’re up for the job ahead. I’ll continue to take you to Earth every day, showing you what I think is important. Once you get the hang of the Dominion’s world, then I’ll let you give it a go on your own. I’ll finally let you live there – though only as a law-abiding citizen and only under my direct supervision. You won’t prepare for the fight against the Dominion and you won’t start your search for the other Warriors until I’m sure you can handle it.”

  Now seeing the plan for the rest of his life, Zaak nodded in eager agreement.

  “I don’t want you to start your search until you’re secure,” Trok went on. “You need a place to be based, you need certain supplies, and you have to establish reliable connections. When you’re ready, then you can start searching for your sister. You have to find her first.” Trok’s face displayed the years he’d spent in worry. “I’ve been trying as best I know how to look after you four. The other two Warriors are fine, you’re living tolerably well, but I’m still not sure why I couldn’t save Loree from what she’s gone through.”

  “You really need to stop beating yourself up about that. It wasn’t your fault Vedanleé stole her away. You had to let her go, or else we would’ve been killed. At least Vedanleé raised her in safety.”

  Trok frowned. “Zaak, things didn’t exactly go according to Vedanleé’s plan.”

  Zaak didn’t understand – Trok never told him anything about the other Warriors, not even Zaak’s own sister. Trok said it might mess up how things were destined to go.

  Surely Loree will accept whatever’s happened to her, thought Zaak. Wouldn’t anyone forgive Trok? Or, maybe this is an example of how little I understand people. Yeah, that’s a possibility.

  But he wanted to erase his uncle’s guilty expression. “Hopefully Loree will understand when I find her.”

  “I’m not so sure. Loree’s stubborn. It seems to run in the family.”

  Zaak looked into his uncle’s face. “But it’ll soon be time for me to go back and find her, won’t it? That’s why you’re finally moving forward with this plan.”

  “Yes. Soon.” Trok was never overly protective, but he looked back at Zaak with concern. “Cruelthor is the worst Dominion tyrant yet, so I think that’s why this is all coming together now.”

  A gust of sweet air from the palm trees entered Zaak’s nostrils, and he sucked in the aroma. Looking at Trok, Zaak realized that this smell-filled breeze, like any other, wasn’t perceivable to his uncle. It was strange to think that, while Zaak sensed the surrounding elements with pinpoint accuracy because of his mutate-genes, Trok sensed nothing. They were an odd pair.

  Trok smiled. “I’ve been watching your sister. I think Loree is nearly ready. You need to be.”

  Later that night, Zaak lay on the sand and looked up at the amazingly close moon of Rowen. His eyesight seemed to bring the moon even closer. Rowen’s blue and green tides swelled and drifted in the gravitational dance between Rowen and Phantasya. Trok was now on the moon, talking with Leks whom Zaak would never be allowed to meet.

  “You are a beauty,” Zaak told the moon. “You’re the one thing I’ll miss about this place.” He adjusted the blade of oasis grass in his lips. “Can I tell you a secret? I’m going to be a hero. I mean, Trok always told me I’m prophesied to be a hero, and I’ve always wanted to use my skills to be an awesome Warrior… But I think I’m going to do some amazing things. There’s a lot to fight back there on Earth, and I can’t wait to go in slashing. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Rowen’s tides swept across the surface of the moon. Zaak’s eyesight was enhanced by a tingling, burning sensation, and he saw into the depths of the crystal-clear sea. He even heard the roar of the waves. But maybe that was his imagination.

  12

  “Time for a nervous breakdown”

  Living in constant fear during the Dominion’s months-long investigation did its damage, but it also forced Bullseye to grow up. The cocky fearlessness of her Youth days died with Edlyn. Bullseye was abruptly forced to learn that the world wasn’t there for her amusement, that she wasn’t immune from punishment, and that the Dominion could be wrong. She then saw the world quite differently. She learned fear, and doubt.

  Once finally declared innocent, Bullseye was placed back on the DRK treatment injection schedule. Getting into physical shape after months of incarceration and interrogation was tough, but she was assigned a new instructor who built back her strength. Because she’d spent so much time in isolation during the investigation, she had to spend hours in front of a portable data screen, catching up on downloaded newscasts.

  When Bullseye was at last ready to resume her active duties, she did so knowing she’d have no room for error. Her relationship with Cruelthor was strained, to say the least, and she no longer dared wonder about the secrets he hid from her.

  To keep pressure on her, Cruelthor kept her working nonstop over the next ten years. She jumped from mission to mission, but she carried out these missions only as one going through the motions – her heart wasn’t in it anymore. She now carried a whirlwind of deeper aches than ambition, but working was the only way to redeem her life in her brother’s eyes. Survival was her only focus.

  Now twenty-six, Bullseye had grown into a lean, attractive woman of fair height. Currently her hair was long and dyed blond, which best suited the personality she’d created for her alias. For a year, she’d been on an undercover mission in Monaco, a former Euro state on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. It was a lovely place, but these days Bullseye didn’t take much time to appreciate scenery.

  At the moment, her mind focused on the details of her mission as she slid along a wire high above the ground. She’d begun her descent from the stone cliffs set as the coastal city’s backdrop. The wire ran down to the penthouse district, which snuggled in the blocks between the coast and the cliffs. It was the middle of the night, but residential lights from this wealthy section of town allowed her to see the way as she flew along the wire. The warm streets below were empty. On the off chance that anyone was awake at this late hour, Bullseye had remained in citizen clothes. But a handgun was tucked into the back of her pants. She saw no need for going into her personal mode of stealth yet, but the fully visible assassin had opted for the quickest way to reach her target.

  Bullseye landed on a penthouse roof and unclamped herself from the wire. She lit the end to disintegrate it and watched the wire sizzle and burn away like a shot all the way back to the cliff. Her trail clean, she turned to the door that led down into the penthouse. From earlier investigation, she knew this was the best way in. The door wasn’t connected to the security system. And it wasn’t airtight.

  Jolene and Clay Penn, she thought, you cheaped out on security. Weird move, considering.

  Bullseye blinked out of sight into her dematerialized state and passed through the door’s slight crack. (She hadn’t needed to concentrate on this ability for years. With all the other tension in her life, she’d decided that she didn’t care how she did it or where the ability came from. Using it was good enough.)

  Inside now, Bullseye descended a few stairs and repeated her passing-through-a-door-crack routine. She remained dematerialized and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then found herself on a long balcony. She knew right where she was.

  A few weeks ago, Clay and Jolene Penn, owners of this penthouse, had thrown a dinner party. Bullseye had pretended to admire the house as she’d wandered around and mapped its layout. Now, she followed the balcony and crept across the wooden floor, looking over a railing to see the entrance on the main floor. The house was elaborately furnished even on the balcony. Bullseye stepped around a sofa to reach a winding staircase to her right.

  At the top of the stairs, she paused. The only sound was the ticking of an old-fashioned clock downstairs. Bullseye detected no one, so she materialized. She reached
out for the banister and slid down, bypassing the creaky stairs. Landing suddenly, she looked around to make sure she hadn’t woken anyone. There was no sign of life in the moonlit, open room. A wide hall leading farther into the house was also still. Knowing the room she was looking for, she headed to this hall.

  Clay sure doesn’t worry about spending their kronar discreetly, she thought. Only Dominion executives can afford these penthouses, and Clay’s classified as a common citizen. Anyone with half a brain could figure out he’s getting kronar from an illegal source – it sure didn’t take me long to spot him. He’s lucky they’ve lived this long… But you can’t get away with prosperity forever, folks. Not when you use it to threaten the Dominion’s power.

  Bullseye stopped before the door she wanted. She felt a little sick. But mostly numb.

  Okay, she thought. Get this over with.

  She pulled the handgun from the back of her pants and slipped into the bedroom to stand over the couple. They slept peacefully, and Bullseye looked at them for a moment.

  Jolene Penn was the first person she’d met in Monaco. Bullseye had been sitting on the beach near a picnicking group of ladies as their men and children played soccer. Jolene had approached her to ask if she’d like to join them.

  That was how Bullseye first inserted herself into this circle of scientists who worked at Free Labs, a citizen-owned company based in Monaco. Dominion executives on the board kept Free Labs within the legal limitations of allowed research, but they’d learned that many of the medical professionals were moonlighting. And it was that work that was legally off-limits – namely, cerebral augmentation and DRK viral research. Because Free Labs made the Dominion a lot of kronar in taxes and co-owned patents, Cruelthor wanted to take out the rebellious factions quietly. If the Dominion had to punish Free Labs publically, that might damage profit margins. Hence Bullseye’s undercover mission to root out and assassinate the offending surgeons.