by Helix Parker
No security personnel came to greet us and we walked off the flight deck, past a security gate, and into the terminals.
King’s Gate had a specific crowd it catered to and they were well represented: men in shining synthfiber suits with tanned skin. Few women ever came through here unless they came as servants with the men. This was mostly because King’s Grace had the highest number of upscale prostitutes per capita of any planet, a trade that was perfectly legal here. I received more than a few stares as we made our way out the terminals and onto the main thoroughfare.
“Who are we meeting with exactly?” Larso said.
“An old friend. Larso … you don’t need to be here. There’s no reason for you to be involved in all this.”
“I’m just here to see you off and make sure you’re okay. As soon as I know that, I’ll take off.”
I grinned but didn’t say anything. His devotion was sweet, but misplaced. I was no one to be fond of or want to help.
A hovercar zipped over to us and lowered to the ground as the top flipped up. A young man with curly hair sat in the cockpit.
“Get in, Ava.”
“Who are you?”
“Chance. The old man sent me. Get in.”
A small ramp came down and I climbed up the steps and sat in the passenger seat and Larso sat in the back. The ramp retracted and we lifted and shot into traffic. The hovercars here went about in designated lanes; they seemed to speed as fast as they could and then stop abruptly when nearly colliding with someone else.
We hummed in between buildings and over people’s heads. We blasted straight through the city and I was impressed by the architecture. Though certainly not built as a metropolis, it had its charm. The buildings were the color of sand and melted in well with the background of trees and beaches. On several streets I saw the hovercars of the Administrative Enforcement Agency, the police force of King’s Grace. It wasn’t a place someone wanted to commit a crime. Crime brought down tourism and resort patronage, the lifeblood of the entire planet.
Before long we were flying through a path in a thick jungle. The ground was sand and the light from its two suns broke through the canopy and shone down fiercely on us.
“You don’t remember me,” Chance said, “but I’ve met you before.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I was a kid then. Maybe nine or ten. My city had been deemed uncooperative with the Republic and we were sent to re-education camps. You blew up a transport that had me and my mom on it. Blew the entire front end off and the transport split in two. We escaped from there and then got off the planet. I never got to say thanks for that.”
I stared off into the vegetation. “Glad I could help.”
Eventually we came upon another town, though much smaller. This one was made of huts and was built directly on the beach, not ten meters from the ocean. The hovercar slowed as we weaved in between the huts and came to a stop in front of a three-storey near the shore. The ramp reappeared and I stepped off without saying anything to Chance. Larso followed me.
“This is quite a change,” he said.
“The person we’re meeting doesn’t like ostentation.”
I walked to the hut and scanned my hand over an OV scanner on the door. It clicked open and an electronic voice said, “Welcome, Ava.”
We walked in and the door slid closed behind us.
2
The hut was decorated how you would suspect a hut on the beach would be decorated. Several old busts were up in the corners and the furniture looked to be made out of the local trees. A fish tank holding all manner of beautiful fish took up nearly an entire wall, and on the wall opposite were antique fisherman’s tools.
He stepped out from the hallway and looked me over. His hair was white now from age and his face leathery and tan. He smiled and opened his arms and I ran to him and hugged him.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
“I couldn’t stay away for too long.”
“I heard about the unfortunate Director Keynes. That was good work.”
Looking back to Larso, I said, “This is Larso. I couldn’t have escaped without him.”
The two men met each other halfway. “Larso, my name is Prator. Thank you for taking care of my daughter and bringing her back to me.”
Larso looked to me, surprise over his face, and then back to Prator. “You’re her father?”
“Yes.”
He looked to me for an explanation but I didn’t give him one. Instead I went to the kitchen and said hello to the servants and left the two of them to talk. Several women who appeared much like me were busy in the kitchen cooking. They ran up and we hugged and kissed and they were making a big fuss over me that made me somewhat uncomfortable but was also flattering.
Outside the windows, I could see a man with his shirt off. Covered in tattoos from his face to his toes, his muscles glistened in the sun. He was standing on the sand with a sword and striking at air. His attacks were precise, and if they’d landed on someone, deadly. I went out the door to the beach, letting my feet sink in the sand, and waited until he wanted to speak.
“What’d you come back for?” he said, continuing to practice.
“I’m a part of this too.”
“Your part’s done. You should leave. It’s not good for the old man to keep having his heart broken.”
“Vane, when I left before it wasn’t by choice.”
“Really? What would you call it?”
“A plan was in place. One that had been around a lot longer than I’ve been alive. I couldn’t tell you about it … so I just left.”
“Three years,” he said, stopping and turning to me. “You’re gone for three years and you didn’t even say goodbye? You didn’t even drop a line to let me know you were alive.”
“It was wrong.”
“It was wrong? It was wrong? Are you cappin’ kidding me? We had a life planned out together. We were promised to each other … we loved each other. Or at least I loved you. And you don’t even tell me where you’re going?”
“It was what my father wanted.”
“Your father wanted you to be happy. I could’ve made you happy.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m just sorry.”
“Ava,” I heard my father yell. I looked back to him. “Would you like to eat out here? The meal is ready.”
“Yes, Father.”
The women began bringing the food out and setting up tables. Larso stepped outside and looked at me and then at Vane.
“Who is this?” Vane said.
“This is Larso. He’s a friend.”
The two men glared at each other a moment and Vane went inside the house, but not before bumping his shoulder into Larso.
“He seems friendly,” Larso said.
“He’s a little surprised to see me. It’ll wear off.”
“From what I can gather it seems everyone’s pretty surprised to see you.”
I glanced away. “Come and eat. This food is fresh and hasn’t been processed. You’ll love it.”
We sat at the table and ate with the ocean next to us and birds flying overhead and dipping into the sea and coming up with silk fish in their beaks. The food was hot and tasty, and as we dug in Father stood up and held his glass of ale high.
“To the return of my daughter. I did not know if I would ever see her again, but I should have known she would refuse to die from sheer stubbornness.” A chuckle from everyone but Vane and Larso. “Ava, you are always welcome here with open arms.”
We drank and ate and talked. I glanced up and saw Vane staring at Larso.
“Can I help you, brother? Larso said.
“I ain’t your brother, squid.”
I chimed in and said, “Larso, maybe we should set up our rooms.”
“Yeah,” he said, not taking his eyes off Vane.
We left the table and walked into the house. Walking through the front room to the set of stairs leading up, we waited until we were on
the top floor before speaking.
“Ava, I should probably go. I don’t think I’m very welcome here.”
I stood looking out a window down at the table outside. “Larso, I’m going to trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone in my life. Are you worthy of that trust?”
“No.”
“I’m going to anyway. You see those people outside? They’re all clones, Larso. Including Vane and my father.” I turned to him. “And they’re going to destroy your race.”
NEPHI
The new ship was one of the most amazing I’d ever seen. It didn’t even have a name or make or model number. Completely off the records. I climbed aboard and found Monica speaking to three men in blue and white uniforms. Even inside the ship, the Elites were fully armored and had their helmets on. It was rumored that it was custom, that they were just always ready for battle, but I knew that wasn’t true. Their helmets held various detection devices and they could monitor heart rates and perspiration levels of people they encountered. A tactic used for lie detection.
“Nephi,” Monica said, “all is ready. The series Eight is up front waiting for you.”
I slipped past them and went up to the cockpit. An Eight was sitting in the seat next to mine and was ready to pilot the ship.
“Hi,” I said.
He responded with a high-pitch screeching.
“King’s Grace, can you get us there?”
More screeching and then the ship roared to life. The braces holding it in place at the port unlocked, the bay doors unsealed, the facility depressurized, and we began to slowly thrust out of the docking bay and into the wide-open expanse of space.
Leaving the facility behind, I watched as ships came and went, little splotches of light in the vast blackness. We flew past them soundlessly and twisted over until we were upside down, though that didn’t really mean anything out here. Then the thrusters shot us forward. We accelerated so quickly I was pushed back into the seat and could feel the pressure on my face before the engines ground, and the FTL kicked on and we burst into hyperspace.
Once we were traveling at a steady pace, I looked back. I couldn’t see Monica or the Elites. I unbuckled and went back there.
FTL travel was an odd experience for me. I know it was supposed to be pleasurable, but at the academy they trained us to take no pleasure in it. This was partly done by exposing us to it so much that our central nervous systems grew accustomed to the euphoria and it brought less and less pleasure every time. It could induce orgasm though, and that was something they could never train out of you, so you had to keep your mind concentrated or you’d lose yourself in it.
The Elites were all up, and though I couldn’t see their faces I could tell by the glances they were giving each other that they were shocked I was up as well. And not just up, but walking around. Something few people even knew was possible during FTL.
“We’re going to King’s Grace,” I told the Elites. “It’s a violation of several treaties and galactic laws for us to be doing this. If we’re caught, they will disavow any existence of us. So we cannot get caught. Under any circumstances. Is that clear?”
“Affirmative,” one of the Elites said, his voice metallic as it came through the helmet.
“We’re after two clones: a male and a female. Let’s see if we can get them to surrender first. I would prefer no bloodshed if possible. But I think they’ll respond with violence. At that point, terminate them both.”
“Affirmative.”
A series of small rooms were off to the sides. Cabins. I went to one, the first one, and the steel door slid closed behind me. A bunk was set up against the wall and I sat down and exhaled slowly. My heart slowed to roughly one beat per minute during FTL travel and I wasn’t able to get blood everywhere it needed to go. I lay down and put my arm over my eyes.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a holopad. Flicking it on, a three-dimensional vid of my family at home came on. My boy was playing with a dog in the front yard. He was six in this vid. My wife was behind him, leaning against the doorframe watching him.
“Thanks for the doggie, daddy!”
“I love you, pal.”
“I love you too, daddy.”
I froze the image and stared at him. I clicked it off and put it back into my pocket. A moment later I took it out and played it again.
2
“Nephi?”
My eyes opened. Monica was standing above me, hovering in the air. She waited patiently as I sat up and rubbed the sleep outta my eyes.
“We have arrived at King’s Grace, Nephi.”
I rose and went out to the main corridor of the ship. The Elites were lined up against the wall in formation, waiting for their orders. Eight was standing near them, powered down.
“Administrator Kooney has informed our contact that we have arrived,” Monica said. “He will be aiding us in apprehending the fugitives.”
“All right, let’s go.”
Stepping out into the cool, clean air of King’s Grace, as compared to the humid recycled air of a Republic facility or the heated, dense air of the ship was like jumping into a cold river. It woke my senses and I had to stop a second and enjoy it. The sunlight from two stars was hot on my face and I could smell the jade sea.
A transport waited for us as we walked off the flight deck. We climbed in and the driver sped away without a word.
“Who is this guy we’re meeting?” I said.
“Tiberius Finch,” Monica said. “A merchant, more or less.”
“More or less?”
“He was apprehended one standard galactic year and five months ago for the smuggling of colmb root into Republic space.”
“Why would the Republic care about that?”
“Colmb root is still illegal, Nephi. Although the statute is rarely enforced. Only in special circumstances.”
“Like when they want to put pressure on somebody who’s selling it.”
“Precisely.”
“Why was he important enough to arrest?”
“As an information broker he has many connections the Republic does not. We wished to utilize those connections. In exchange, he is kept out of exile and allowed to continue his operations. He has proved most useful, on occasion.”
The transport sped in between other hovercars and whirled past buildings, narrowly missing them. I glanced back to the Elites. They were facing forward, their armor still securely fastened to them and I wondered if they slept with it on.
A tunnel led underground and we flew down. Within a few moments, a stink filled my nostrils and a putrid warmth hit my face. The smell of death and crowds of people living in filth.
Masses were huddled together in some makeshift city. They crowded tunnels and attempted to stop us at every turn selling items no one needed. We turned down a dark corridor. A shop was set up there.
“Tiberius is inside, Nephi.”
I stepped out of the transport and told the Elites and Eight to wait for me. I went inside.
Lights glared down at me and the shop was filled with all manner of goods, none of which I could see the starving inhabitants down here using. There were fine silks and silver bowls and sculptures and clothing.
“What are these people doing down here?” I asked Monica.
“King’s Grace has banned cloning and have not allowed slavery in any form for one hundred and twenty-four years, seven months and twenty-two days. Instead, they import low-skilled laborers, but the aristocracy does not wish them to live aboveground as they feel they will lessen the beauty of the city.”
“So they stuff ’em down here, huh?”
“That is correct.”
A fat man in ornate garbs that shimmered under the lights was standing at the counter flipping through a manifest of some kind, and didn’t glance up from it until the glow from Monica’s projection hit his eyes. Then he looked up and stared at her.
“A ghost. I have not seen one of them in person.”
“Are you Tiberi—”<
br />
“Upp upp,” he said, holding his hand out. He pointed to the back. I followed him as he went through a door into a storage room. “It is not safe to speak out there.”
“Are you Tiberius Finch?”
“That is the name I am called. I assume you are Administrator Kooney’s servant?”
I ignored the insult. “You know who I’m looking for?”
“I do indeed.”
“Take me to them.”
“Well, there is the small matter of payment to address first.”
“Kooney said he already paid you.”
“While that is technically correct, the sum he has paid was not commensurate with the risk on my part. I believe a renegotiation is in order.”
“Monica, how much did Kooney pay him?”
“Twenty-five thousand earth units.”
I whistled through my teeth. “A small fortune. Definitely more than any of these poor souls have.”
“While I agree with you that it is a substantial sum, if the authorities were to discover what I have done I would be banished from the planet. I would lose all I have worked for. So in comparison, twenty-five thousand seems like a paltry sum, I believe you must agree.”
I stared at his eyes. They were cold and distant and I had no doubt that no matter what Kooney had paid him he would be asking for more.
“Monica, how much is that transport ship worth?”
“Approximately six thousand units.”
I said to him, “You can have that transport ship after we’re through.”
“Is it yours to give?”
“It is now. I’ll make sure you get it.”
He thought a moment. “What else?”
“That’s all I have.”
“And the ghost.”
“You want Monica?”
“There are only a handful of such models. Especially such … beautiful models. Because of the nature of the business I conduct, she is worth far more to me than to you.”