Second Lives

by Scott K. Andrews

  Quil stood in the suite doorway, legs apart, pistol held straight ahead of her aimed at Dora's chest.

  'Who are you?' said Quil, breathing fast.

  'My name is Dora, as I said. I work here as a maid.'

  Dora saw the light lance out from Quil's gun and it seemed like an age before she felt the pain in her hand. Shaking, she held the hand in front of her, marvelling at the small, neat, smoking hole Quil's laser had burned in her palm. Dora could see through it. She felt her head begin to swim as the pain kicked in, but she gritted her teeth and fought it back; she'd endured worse.

  'Who are you and why are you here?' repeated Quil. Three of the four guards behind her had regained their feet and were standing beside her, also aiming their weapons at Dora. Blank-mask was still down.

  'OK, OK,' said Dora, her jaw shooting with pain every time she spoke. She suspected Blank-mask had fractured it. 'Can I sit down? Can we go back inside and talk about this?'

  'If you move an inch I'll bisect you,' growled Quil. 'Talk.'

  'I don't know how much you know,' said Dora. 'Those sparks, when we touched - have you seen something like that before?'

  Quil nodded.

  'When you were experimenting with the asteroid,' continued Dora. 'The one that has the ... unusual characteristics?'

  Quil did not nod this time, unwilling to volunteer any more information, waiting for Dora to continue.

  'Are you sure you want your soldiers to hear this?' asked Dora, talking through gritted teeth as her punctured hand throbbed and burned.

  'I have no secrets from my personal guard,' replied Quil.

  Dora considered her options and decided that a version of the truth was the best choice.

  'OK,' she said. 'Those sparks are created when two people who have been exposed to that asteroid come into contact. It's a reaction. It means I'm like you.'

  'A time traveller,' whispered Quil.

  Dora nodded.

  'I knew this day would come,' said Quil softly. 'I've been waiting for you for years'

  That was interesting because it strongly implied that Quil had already travelled in time at least once.

  'So what are you? Assassin or historian?' asked Quil. 'Have you come back to kill me, change history, prevent my victory? Or are you here to study me, get close to the legend?'

  Dora shook her head. 'Neither. I'm not from the future. I'm from the past.' It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie - she had come to Mars from the near future, but she was born in the seventeenth century.

  Quil cocked her head, confused. 'The past? That doesn't make any sense. Why would someone from the past be interested in me?'

  Dora thought fast and came up with the most plausible story she could. 'I'm a kind of researcher. My job is to map out the future, then travel back and pass on what I've learned to the authorities. They use the intelligence I gather to shape events, nudge history towards the outcomes they desire.'

  'Fascinating,' said Quil after a moment's thought. 'Maybe I could believe that. Maybe, but I hope you understand that I can't afford to take the chance. I wonder, could you jump off into time faster than the beam of light from this gun could travel from here to there?'

  That confirmed to Dora that Quil had travelled in time, otherwise how would she know it was as simple as a thought - somebody unfamiliar with the process would probably assume there was some kind of machine involved.

  T don't know,' said Dora. 'I don't intend to find out.'

  A loud chime sounded from inside the suite behind Quil and her guards. 'Someone get that,' barked Quil, keeping her attention firmly focused on Dora. Blank-mask rose to his feet behind Quil and shuffled away.

  'I have to assume you're an assassin,' said Quil. 'I think I win this war and you're the last gasp of a dying counterrevolution, sent back in time to kill me and change history.'

  'I promise you,' Dora pleaded, 'that's not the case.'

  The lift behind Dora pinged and she heard the doors slide open, followed quickly by a sharp intake of breath as whoever had come to talk to Quil found themselves walking into a stand-off.

  'What's going on here?' barked a strong male voice from behind Dora. This was a voice accustomed to giving commands and having them obeyed. Dora wondered if the other Godless, the lower ranks, spoke the same way. After all, they had the same vocal cords.

  'You have to be the general who threw the fruit,' said Dora, without looking round. 'Am I right?'

  'Quil,' he said, 'explain this.'

  'There was an attempt on my life, General,' said Quil, her aim not wavering, her eyes remaining fixed on Dora.

  'Oh come on, that's a total lie,' protested Dora. 'I never touched you, and you know I could have.'

  'Curious timing,' said the general, who had walked out of the lift and was now walking past Dora towards Quil. He stopped to study Dora, but he was careful - he did not block

  Quil's line of fire and he never came within arm's reach of Dora.

  'She's just a girl,' he said casually.

  'What did you mean about timing?' asked Quil.

  The general turned away from Dora and continued walking towards the suite doors. 'One of our operatives has warned us of a planned attack on Charon. This peace conference is a sham, as I said all along. They've drawn us here to outflank us. And I don't think it's a coincidence that at the same time they're planning to hit our supply lines, somebody tries to take you out.'

  Dora rolled her eyes. 'Look, I've already explained, I wasn't trying to—'

  She wasn't able to finish her sentence because she was falling forward. Her brain didn't understand what was happening. All she knew was that there was a flash of bright light and then the floor was rushing up to meet her face. She tried to step forward, regain her balance, but something was terribly wrong with her legs. She threw out her arms to break her fall, and she managed to stop her face slamming into the floor, but as she tried to use her feet to absorb some of the impact, basically falling into a press-up, she again found that they were not responding properly. She hit the ground awkwardly, not at the angle she was expecting, oddly lopsided and feeling the carpet on her thighs rather than through the toes of her shoes.

  She saw black spots at the edges of her vision and realised with horror that she was passing out. God, had Quil shot her? Was she dying? She looked up to see a row of masked faces staring down at her. She couldn't tell if they were registering shock, pity or glee. All she could see were unsmiling metal lips and shadowed eyes.

  She tried to speak, but the only sound that came out was a kind of strangled groan. As she sank into the carpet, unable to hold herself up, she twisted her head to look back and see what was wrong with her legs.

  The last thing she saw before she passed out were her feet, still in their shoes, standing upright behind her, smoking from the stumps where her ankles used to be.

  The corridor was littered with sacks of uncollected garbage, and stank accordingly. The lights were almost all broken, but one was hanging in there, casting a sickly yellowish glow.

  'You bring me to the nicest places,' said Jana.

  She cursed inwardly, excruciatingly aware that her every attempt at a quip probably read to Kaz like a veiled come-on.

  'Oh yeah, I know how to show a girl a good time,' he replied, smiling.

  Jana died a little inside.

  'Which one was it again?' she asked.

  'Brock said he lived in flat 29,' Kaz replied.

  Jana checked the door closest to her. 'This is 20,' she said. 'It must be down the other end of the corridor.'

  'Tread carefully,' he warned.

  They picked their way through the maze of rubbish, both of their faces wrinkled in disgust at the aroma. At one point Jana accidentally kicked a pile of rubbish and an enormous rat burst out of cover and lolloped away. She was ashamed

  by the strangled scream she emitted at the sight of its slick oily fur.

  'Ugh,5 she groaned, pulling her most disgusted face. 'There are rats on Mars? How
did that happen?5

  Kaz shrugged. 'They get everywhere,5 he said. 'We had a whole community of them on the Hispaniola.5 'Was that your pirate ship?5 'Arrr.5

  'Did you see the size of that thing?5 said Jana, shuddering. 'It was like a small dog. And it lolloped! Rats are supposed to scurry. That unholy thing lolloped. Not natural.5

  They reached the door without encountering any other giant rodents, and they paused, nervously. 'So what's the plan again?5 asked Jana. Kaz pulled a gun from his pocket and flicked the switch to activate it. 'We improvise. All we have to do is stop this guy going anywhere for the next twenty-four hours. We hold him hostage and then let him go. No need to do anything drastic.5 'And what if he5s an assassin?5 whispered Jana. 'A trained killer? I'm not sure he's going to be quite the pushover you think.5

  Kaz smiled rakishly. 'And I am Sealegs Kaz,5 he said. 'Terror of the seven seas, buccaneer of high renown and the best shot with a flintlock this side of Tortuga. I am more than a match for a common killer.5

  Jana gaped. 'I don't think that paint-stripper was as watered-down as Shindra told you,' she said, shaking her head.

  Kaz winked and knocked on the door. There was no immediate response, so Kaz knocked again.

  Jana had a nasty thought and stepped to her left, pulling Kaz after her. 'Hey, don't stand in front of the door,' she warned. 'What if he starts shooting?'

  There was a noise behind the door and Kaz nodded to Jana, who fervently wished she had a gun too.

  'Who is it?' shouted a man from inside. His voice was high and sharp, and he sounded nervous.

  'Mr Smith?' asked Jana.

  'Who wants to know?'

  Jana thought quickly. 'Environmental services,' she said. 'We're here to deal with reports of an infestation of vermin.'

  Kaz looked impressed and gave her a thumbs-up.

  'About time,' replied the man inside the flat as Jana heard him undoing a collection of locks. 'One of those damn rats actually tried to take my dinner off me the other . . .' His complaint trailed away as he opened the door and found himself staring into the business end of Kaz's gun. He was holding a baseball bat in his hand, but it was clear he wouldn't be able to raise it before Kaz drilled a hole in him.

  Smith reacted quickly, trying to push the door closed again, but Kaz had jammed his foot in the way and forced his way inside. Jana followed and closed the door behind her as Smith backed away from his two unwelcome guests.

  'Drop the bat and sit,' said Kaz, indicating a tattered old sofa that was mostly buried under a pile of old clothes. The flat smelled only slightly less disgusting than the corridor outside, and Jana vowed not to leave the living room - if it was this bad, she didn't want to imagine what kind of state the kitchen or bathroom might be in.

  'No wonder you have rats,' she said. 'You live like one.'

  Smith was a thin-faced Martian, stubble-chinned and beady-eyed. He sat staring at Kaz's gun, eyes darting left and right as if searching for escape or aid.

  'Are you alone?' barked Kaz. 'Is anybody else in this flat?'

  Smith shook his head vigorously. 'No, no, no, only me. Just me.5

  Kaz nodded over at Jana. 'Check would you?5 he asked. 'Don't want any surprises.5

  'And what am I supposed to do if I find someone lying in wait in the bedroom, huh?5 she protested. 'You've got the gun.5

  'Use his bat,' said Kaz. 'He dropped it by the door.'

  Jana ran over and scooped it up, wincing at the greasy feel of the warm handle. She briefly wondered how baseball would work in lower gravity, but dismissed the thought as a distraction. The front door opened straight into the living room, and only two doors led off from it, one on the right, one on the left.

  Holding the bat high, Jana kicked the door on the right open and was hit by a wave of smell that made her gag. Kitchen. She didn't stare too closely at the pile of plates in the sink, and tried hard not to notice the greenish tinge of mould that encrusted it. There was nobody in there, so she turned and repeated the operation. Bathroom. The smell was simply indescribable and it made Jana's eyes water. A fat rat squatted in the sink, staring at her with tiny black eyes. She headed back to the living room.

  'All clear,' she said. 'But I am going to have to scrub myself pink raw when we get back to the hotel. And maybe dip myself in bleach.'

  Smith was sitting on the sofa, which was so old and saggy that it practically swallowed him up. He cut a pathetic figure, a far cry from the smooth professional killer Jana had half expected.

  'I haven't got any money,' he wheedled. 'You can see that. Can't even afford to get the water turned on more than once a day. I've got nothing worth stealing, so you might as well go.'

  Having checked the flat, Jana wanted to sit down, but couldn't bring herself to sit on the carpet, which turned her stomach, or the armchair, which she was sure had a thin coating of rat fur on it. She settled for standing next to Kaz and looking menacing.

  'Mr Smith,' she said. 'We know that you recently procured an illegal pass for the conference centre. Would you mind telling us why?'

  Smith's eyes narrowed. 'Who are you? Secret service? Police?'

  'We could tell you,' said Kaz seriously, 'but then we'd have to kill you.'

  Jana bit her lip to stop herself smiling. 'Answer the question,' she said, 'and there's a good chance you'll live another day.'

  'I knew it was a stupid idea,' muttered Smith, resentfully.

  'What was a stupid idea?' asked Kaz.

  'Hitting the hotel during the conference.'

  Kaz and Jana exchanged puzzled glances. Luckily, Smith did not notice; he was too busy staring at his nails, sulkily spilling his guts.

  'They'll all be distracted, he says. Security will be all over the conference area, he says. We can crack the hotel's safe and be home before anybody even notices, he says.'

  'Who said?' asked Jana.

  'This Earther,' said Smith. 'Like you, all short and stout. Recommended to me by the syndicate. Said he needed a cracksman. Best in the business, me.'

  'Yeah, rolling in it, aren't you,' replied Jana.

  Smith shrugged. 'Easy come, easy go,' he said. 'Anyway, please don't kill me. I was supposed to meet this guy outside the conference centre at ten tomorrow morning, crack the safe for him, and then get out of there and wait for ten per cent to appear in my account.'

  Kaz turned to Jana. 'What do you think?' he asked.

  'Mr Smith, you are possibly the filthiest excuse for a human being I have ever met,' said Jana. 'Not only that, you are epically, epically dumb. I mean really spectacularly, depress- ingly stupid.'

  Smith looked hurt. 'No need for that,' he mumbled.

  'We need your pass and a full description of this Earther who contacted you,' Jana continued. 'When we've got them, we're going to leave here and forget we ever met you. If you keep your mouth shut and stay out of trouble, we won't have cause to remember. Understand?'

  Smith's face was a mixture of resentment and confusion. 'Who are you?' he whined.

  'Believe it or not,' sighed Jana, 'I think we're the people who just saved your pathetic excuse for a life.'

  Kaz and Jana emerged into the corridor a few minutes later.

  'Can I have my bat back,' said Smith plaintively, standing in the doorway.

  Jana turned and handed it to him. As he took it, she held on for a moment and looked him in the eyes. 'Remember,' she said. 'Stay here for at least the next day. Don't set a foot outside. OK?'

  'OK, OK,' he replied. Jana relinquished her grip on the baseball bat and Smith stepped backwards and slammed his front door in their faces, flashing them a spiteful grimace as he did so.

  'You've obviously worked something out, so spill,' said

  Kaz as they gingerly negotiated the garbage bag alley to the exit.

  'A heist, in the middle of one of the biggest security operations in history?' replied Jana. 'It's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.'

  'Or the cleverest.'

  Jana glared at Kaz.

  'Yeah,
OK, dumbest,' he said.

  'Smith isn't an assassin,' said Jana. 'And I don't believe we're here to prevent a heist. There is no heist. Smith's a patsy, an idiot who'll turn up at the wrong moment looking as guilty as it's possible to look. I'll bet you any money he's being set up to take the fall for an assassination attempt.'

  'You mean this whole thing's been a wild goose chase?' said Kaz, dismayed.

  'Not quite,' replied Jana. 'At least we got a description of the guy who approached Smith about the job. All we can do is search the conference centre for him. That's assuming he's the assassin and not some go-between.'

  'You've got an impossible job,' said Kaz.

  'Me?'

  'I don't have a press pass, remember?' said Kaz. 'I can't get into the peace talks.'

  Jana shook her head. 'That hooch is making you as dumb as Smith, Kaz. Which is good, 'cause you're going to have to pass as him.' She handed him Smith's forged entry authorisation and took the gun from his hand in the process.

  'Hey,' he protested, but Jana was already firing over his shoulder, back down the corridor. There was a pathetic screech and the smell of burned meat.

  'Try lolloping now, you freak,' muttered Jana, pushing open the exit.

  The centre of the city was in lockdown. Every road was blocked by Earth troops in riot gear, standing in lines, impassive behind mirrored visors, guns ready. Vehicles with heavy weapons mounted on them lined up behind the soldiers, and concrete barriers funnelled all people and traffic into narrow checkpoints where their authorisations could be checked at the point of multiple weapons.

  As Kaz climbed off the tram and looked down the boulevard towards the barriers, he was shocked that there were no protestors waving placards, chanting slogans, holding hands. Riot police meant there was a potential riot, didn't they? But in fact the streets were quiet. This was a road of office blocks and functional buildings, no residences or shops, and all business had been suspended for the duration of the talks. It was a ghost town.

  The quiet disconcerted Kaz more than the deliberately intimidating security cordon. It spoke of a populace utterly cowed, scared to raise their voices, controlled and monitored