Romy's Legacy: Book II of the 2250 Saga

by Nirina Stone

  “They’re all gone,” I say, deciding to humour him. “The buildings too, everything that we built. The Iliad, the Elysium. There’s nothing and no one left.”

  His eyes shift quickly to Father’s holopersona, then land back on me. There was no mistaking it—that was surprise on his face.

  “Do you really not know?” I ask.

  He watches me again. Then says, “I really don’t know what happened to them, Rome. I assume they’re on their way back to Apex though. There’s nothing for them here.”

  What? “Other than the homes we built here. The community. Land. Food—?”

  Blair’s eyes flash to Father’s holopersona again. Then he gives me a look I can’t quite define, except for the clear anger in his eyes. Just shut up, they tell me. Just stop talking.

  Okay. I give him a slight nod as if in understanding, but he’d better be ready to give me answers soon. I’m so confused with everything that’s going on, and I want answers. I’ve hurt Blair before—when he was incapacitated, no less. I still feel slightly guilty about it. I also know I’ll hurt him again if I have to, to get answers out of him. It’s not like he’s special to me. Knowing where my people are is far more important.

  So I turn to Father’s holopersona again. “How much are you allowed to tell me?” I ask. I’d like to know if his loyalty is to the Metrills first, or to my father’s memory first.

  “I don’t understand the question,” he says.

  “What are your restrictions?” I ask. I know how applications and programs are built. I know they all come with built-in restrictions. For security purposes. For intelligence purposes. I know he’s restricted too. He has to be.

  “I can only tell you what I know,” he answers honestly. Which doesn’t really tell me anything. “What your father’s memories contain.”

  Okay, well that’s more clear at least. “Alright,” I say. “Then tell me what my father’s memories contain. Show me.”

  Surely he’ll be able to let a stream of memories flow through my brain the same way he did for Rosemary Mason. Surely I can lie back and see everything that Father would have learnt. That he didn’t tell me. That he kept mostly to himself.

  “You sure you want to do that?” Blair asks, his eyebrows still high. Of course I do. I’d be far less confused, wouldn’t I? “Are you really sure you want to open up that mystery box, that tells you things about your parents you may never want to know?”

  I nod again, knowing that I need to do this, no matter the outcome. “I need to understand,” I say, “what my parents’ relationship was like. Really like. I need to know why Mother was behind the team that killed Father. I need to see.” I fight the small voice inside telling me that it’s all a lie. That I’d still rather not know.

  Before I say anything further though, the holopersona says, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

  “And why not?” Blair asks at the same time I do.

  “Your Father left explicit instructions of no free flow. To anyone. His memories are to be shared through me. Not openly like that.”

  I wonder why, but Blair pipes up. “He can still keep his secrets that way. Clever,” he says.

  It’s my turn to say, “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple, really,” Blair says as he keeps his eyes on the holo. “In his state, he can answer your questions, though he can choose to be vague if he wishes. If your father allowed for the free flow, there would be no barrier between every single thought and memory he’s ever had and anyone else’s prying eyes.”

  He’s found a way to keep secrets, including in death. Great. “So you can’t answer all my questions,” I say to the holo.

  “Oh he can,” Blair says, “if he chooses to. I doubt that he’ll choose to though, given that your father wouldn’t.”

  Great. Thanks Father. Keep me in the dark after your death too. Just what I need. Why couldn’t he be more open to me? Why couldn’t he tell me everything I needed to know? I’m suddenly really annoyed with Father—with both my parents, really. All the secrecy, all the lies. To what? Protect me from what exactly?

  I shake my head at the holo and walk out of the room before I give in to the desire to yell at him, to tell me everything he knows. It would be pointless anyway. Father wouldn’t tell me everything while alive, for whatever reason. There’s no way to change his mind in death, is there?

  I keep walking, until I sense someone beside me, then slow down.

  “I’m sorry, Blair,” I finally say, not quite able to look him in the eye. It’s cowardly, but that’s fine. Hitting him in the back of the head was pretty cowardly too.

  “I would have done the same thing,” he laughs, then pauses. “Though I don’t know that I would’ve apologized for it later.”

  I look down at his face and he’s smiling at me, as if there’s really no need to apologize.

  “Anyway,” he says, “I came looking for you because Frankie and I need your help.”

  The name makes me stop in my tracks and I remember her humming to him again.

  “Why would Frankie need me?” I ask, not bothering to address the fact that he said he needs my help too.

  “To help me with a part of my training,” he says. “She needs a sparring partner.”

  Why in the world would she need me for a sparring partner? Still, I’ll admit to be curious about her fighting style. Reluctantly, I follow him as we make our way out to a field similar to the one where I’ve done ‘the dance’ with the other Metrills.

  Frankie has her back to us. Her bare back, I notice, as red and brown freckles pop up every which way on her shoulders and across the middle of her back like a constellation.

  I know the Sorens don’t have issues with being naked, but I hope when she turns that she’s not actually topless. I won’t be sparring with her if she is, no matter how much Blair would tease me for it.

  When she turns, I’m relieved to see a dark blue band run across her midriff and up to her neck. So whatever’s on her back must be some type of see-through material. She stretches her long lanky arms up in the air and smiles at Blair.

  “I’m still not sure that a vessel is a good idea,” she says to him. “I can easily show you with one of the Metrills, you know?”

  I don’t listen to Blair’s response. Instead I’m busy narrowing my eyes at her, my back up with the word ‘vessel’, knowing well that she means I’m nothing more than a P-City surrogate.

  Whatever Blair had said, Frankie merely pushes her dark red hair off her face.

  “Why were all the females there vessels anyway?” she says. “I mean it’s rather archaic, isn’t it? Why didn’t any of these so-called ‘Citizens’ try to fight it?”

  I fight my rising anger, trying to remember that she’s right, of course. After people like the Pioneers, like Rosemary Mason and Mornie Blair, how did our people end up with a society that marginalized women to the point they were merely carriers of Prospo babies?

  It’s a good question for which I have no answer, and for which I have no interest in discussing with this—this—

  “Ready?” she asks, but still doesn’t bother looking me in the eyes.

  I roll my shoulders. “What do you need a sparring partner for?” I ask, wondering if she even knows I’m here.

  “There’s a new defense technique I’ve mastered recently,” she replies, still talking to Blair. “I think Rylan here would do well to learn it.”

  Rylan. Okay, that’s fine, but for the fact he’s still sitting in a glidingbot and won’t likely be out of it for a while yet. I don’t see how learning this new technique right now will help him heal faster. So she clearly wants to use me to—what—humiliate me in front of him? And why?

  On the other hand, I’m curious, too. I haven’t had fight training in a while—this could be beneficial to me too. Why not? I’ll admit there’s a part of me that wants to fight her, for the first words she’s ever said to me. That I’m now four months pregnant is a non-issue—Sorens train and spar
and fight, no matter their condition.

  So I pull my hair up into a loose bun and stand in front of her, waiting for my instruction.

  For a moment, I forget where I am and think I’m training with Sanaa again. Because before Frankie’s eyes land on me, she’s already got me buckled over. My head is smashed up against my knees, my arms in a painful hold behind my back.

  I hear a soft “Waouh,” from Blair. Yes, that was impressive. I barely saw her move, but how can anyone learn anything from that?

  “Show us again,” I say, not bothering to hide that I’m including Blair as my co-student in this. “But slower this time, so that we can actually learn something from it.”

  When she turns to glare at me, I’m intimidated for a slight moment.

  Until Blair says, “Romy’s right. I saw nothing but the outcome. A fine outcome it was, but what were the steps to get there?”

  So Frankie slows down her movements to show us, once, thrice, thirty times more.

  She pushes my left arm back, twists my body around while her right leg forces my knees to bend. Then she pushes my upper back until my entire torso crumples. At the same time, she pulls my arms painfully behind me. She pushes harder on my arms and back with each demonstration, to the point where blue and purple bruises rise to the surface of my skin.

  By the time she’s shown us, what, the hundredth time—all my tendons are jelly, and my back, neck, and shoulders are on fire from the strain.

  I pull an arm in front of me, stretching out the sore muscles, then do the same with the other. Then I say, “Okay, now how does one go about defending against that sort of attack?”

  She frowns at me, then her eyes land on Blair again. “Maybe that’s enough for today,” she says. “I don’t want to hurt her.” Despite the words, her tone tells me something else entirely.

  I don’t know what’s the matter with me—maybe I have a new-found confidence after not being eaten by animals on my way back from Haven. Or maybe it’s the smug, protective way she keeps looking at Blair. Or maybe it’s the way he looks at her. Or I just didn’t appreciate being used as a training dummy. I’m not sure, but I know I’m itching to fight back.

  In any case, I’ve stretched enough. I’m ready for a tousle.

  “How about you do the move?” I ask. “And I’ll try to defend myself anyway.” I remember each part well enough, I think. I’ll just use the little I know to block her.

  She’s faster though—she pushes on me and I block, but she already manages three more moves, even faster than Sanaa if my memory serves me right.

  Still, I block everything I can see. Then I realize that I automatically use a part of the dance the Metrills and I do in the clearing, but faster.

  Before I can impress myself with my newfound talent, she has my nose locked into my knees and my arms behind me, like the first time. Like I was that student that had to be shown something over a hundred times and still didn’t learn a thing.

  My ears burn with humiliation when Blair scoffs.

  Then I weaken all my muscles and drop to the ground, making my legs fall flat under me. The sudden movement has her release my arms and I whip my right leg around, arcing to hit her legs until she lands on the ground beside me.

  I didn’t actually think it would work, but I can’t hide the smirk on my face when I see her land with a hard thunk on her bum. Her jaws shut with a loud snap and tears brim in her eyes.

  I should bite my tongue, but the words come out before I can stop them. “I guess you’re Sanaa’s third best student now.”

  Blair laughs.

  Of course that infuriates Frankie. She’s back on her feet and running at me before I realize what’s going on. I’m on my feet quickly, just as she runs past me and—with just one arm—rams into my chest with such force, I do a front somersault in the air and land on my back.

  I already have my knees bent, ready to jump up. Blair makes that “Waouh” sound again as Frankie lands on my throat, crushing my windpipe with her bicep.

  I claw at her arm, kicking my legs in the air as I fight to breathe. What was I thinking, taking on this chick who clearly hates me, one who’s an even better fighter than my old instructor?

  My eyes start to roll into my head but I don’t stop clawing at her.

  Finally, Blair says something that I don’t register, but the sudden release on my throat has me gasp and gulp for air like my life depends on it, which—I guess—it does.

  I shut my eyes tight, still fighting to breathe, and waiting for the blow that will end me. When nothing happens, I open them again and she’s gone.

  Blair stares down at me from his glidingbot, his face in a wide grin. For a minute I think this was his way of punishing me for hurting him and making off with his glider. It’s a harsh punishment. I only knocked him out and left him with a slight headache.

  Then he says, “Sanaa was so right about you.”

  What? That I was stupid? Lazy? Lucky to be alive as she liked to put it? When I look up at him, rubbing the part of my throat where Frankie nearly crushed my larynx, the question in my eyes encourages him to continue.

  “That you’re resilient,” he says, “in true Soren style.” His smile wanes for a moment and is back again and I try to smile back.

  I’m not sure what to make of his tone, but when I think I can speak again, I say, “Did you really not know the Havenites were all gone?”

  “I really didn’t know,” he says. His big blue eyes are larger than normal, not a hint of a lie in them. Then he mutters something under his breath. Sounds like, “That explains the bombing though.”

  Still, it doesn’t make sense to me. I try, in vain, to distract myself from the pain racking my entire body as my nanites get to work fixing whatever Frankie broke.

  “Will you tell me now why you brought me here?” I ask. The last time I asked him this, he said I was his ticket to the Metrills. “Why was I your way in?” I ask. “Why wouldn’t they want you without me? Why do they want me?”

  “It’s your DNA,” he says. “They needed some of it to access Rosemary’s memories in full. I planned to bring your mother until—”

  “Until what?”

  “Until it was clear that she wasn’t the right person to bring here because she wasn’t entirely honest about her role as a Soren General.”.

  I have no clue what it all means but I’m done taking things for face value. That didn’t do me any favours in my time living with the Sorens and the distance from them has made me realize I allowed myself to be kept in the dark by them.

  I wanted to be one of them so desperately—I still do. Otherwise, what am I? Back to being a useless Citizen? Well, no more.

  “Why, Blair?” I ask. “Why are you helping the Metrills? And why do you care about Rosemary’s memories?”

  “It’s simple,” he says. “They couldn’t access Mornie’s memories. They couldn’t access anyone else’s. Rosemary’s are the only ones available to them. I want to know everything there is to know about the Legacies. She’s the key. You’re the key.”

  Right. Mornie Blair was his great grandmother, a Leader in her own right. We only have access to her history and the history of the remaining legacies through Rosemary Mason’s various—broken—memories.

  “Do they still need me?” I ask, conscious that all they needed was my DNA. They don’t actually need me.

  “Well,” he says. We’re back in his quarters now, with Father’s holo standing between us. “They don’t need to discard you, if that’s what you’re asking. We’re no more threats to them than the animals they keep in their holds.”

  The animals! The animals that fell down that hole with me, left in that room I was pulled out of. Aware that I’m switching my questions again, I make a note to come back to the whole DNA thing again.

  “Whatever happened to the animals?” I ask the holopersona. “The ones I was with before being pulled out of that room.”

  “Some,” he says, “were kept for food.”

 
Oh, of course. How else would they get meat, given that they rarely go to the surface? I remember the noises in that tiny room, the smells. They obviously don’t discriminate on what sort of meat. I fight a shiver, thinking of the sustenance we’ve had since we arrived. Much like what the Prospo’s various bots would serve up, but somehow less gray, less tasteless.

  I try not to imagine what the animals go through before they’re consumed. I remember nearly fainting before being pulled out though. At least they wouldn’t feel pain before being killed for food. At least there’s that.

  “And what was that thing,” I ask, remembering the flashes of long metal arms before falling down the chute. “On the surface, there was something moving up top. Something metal.”

  “The Harvester,” Blair says, before the holopersona answers me. “That’s what they call it. It’s why those animals ran. It works once a month to bring more food in.” Wow. Harvester. It was massive. “It’s probably what they used to clean up the remnants of Haven,” Blair says.

  The ‘remnants’ of Haven. “It was like the community was never there, Blair,” I reply. All that effort to build it up, all those months of planting, building, cleaning, planning. Gone.

  As if the time we’d lived there, and all that work, was a complete waste. We aimed to build a new lush community for our people, so that we could all start anew. We failed. I blink my eyes once, twice, fighting the tears that threaten to consume me.

  “I know,” he says. “We’ll find out what happened.”

  I don’t know if I want to, but I nod and ask, “How?”

  “We call Strohm of course,” he replies. He doesn’t smile.

  14

  More Questions

  “It’s humbling isn’t it?” Blair says.

  “What is?” I frown at him. We’re sitting in his quarters, about to call Strohm from a holocomm—a 3D image floating in the air in front of us. Blair’s setting up a secure session as he keeps his eyes on me.

  “That the only reason you’re here, the only reason you’re still alive right now is because you’re a direct descendant of a Legacy. Nothing to do with your abilities or smarts. Just your blood, your DNA.”