Benjamin and Peter, two years old but six and a half feet tall, made no effort to contain the spittle in the corners of their mouth. They sat side by side on the foot of their parents’ bed, gawking at Sam, who sat in the chair where she was ordered, her bodysuit removed and replaced by a simple white undergarment which was three sizes too large. Sam heard the rumors of how James “grew” his children, of how he accelerated their studies, and how they would have kids of their own within two or three years.
The boys asked questions, but she refused to answer. Questions about relationships. About Michael. Once, Peter asked what it felt like to be in love, but Benjamin popped him upside the head and said love wasn’t relevant. Procreation was all that mattered.
“My sons are idiots,” Rayna said, returning with a yellow dress draped over one arm. “But rarely do they get a chance to look close. I give them treat.” She handed a cloth to Benjamin and told him to wipe his lips. “Is fate of all young women to be surrounded by foolish boys. As Cossack girl, I knew of these idiots.
“But they stayed clear of Rayna Tsukanova, if they wished to keep all their parts. What do you think of my boys, Samantha Pynn?”
Sam did not say two words after she arrived at James and Rayna’s habitat dome. Rayna gave no reason for taking her from Haven. She was ordered to strip upon entering and stood naked before these freakish children until Rayna offered one of her own undergarments.
“They’re growing up fast,” Sam muttered, knowing she had to say something or else piss off Rayna.
“This is true.” Rayna sighed. “But maybe is not best idea. My husband, he speeds them along with Jewel energy, as he does to all our children. Yes, they are big, and soon they will be strong. And very smart. But they do not know of the world. They do not know of people. And yet, their bodies crave attention like all foolish boys.”
She kissed each son on the forehead and pivoted to Sam.
“Did you think my boys were going to rape you?”
The question was as stunning as the mere possibility, which never crept into Sam’s mind. Sam didn’t know how to respond. But Rayna would interpret no answer as confirmation.
“I’m sure Benjamin and Peter are very good boys.”
“Is true. Now. Give them a year, and they will be assholes. Is fate of all boys.” She waved them out. “Return to your dome and resume studies until your father calls.”
“Yes, Mother,” they said in perfect harmony.
Rayna handed Sam the dress.
“Do you like?” She asked. “Was very hard to decide on style. Recon tube does not allow … what is the word? … customization of traditional women’s dress. This is what some wear on the colonies, I am told.”
The full-length yellow dress was well-crafted. The fabric was feather-soft and translucent. White floral stitching created a pleasing effect along the neckline.
“What is it for?” Sam asked.
“This was not my question. Do you like?”
“It’s very pretty, Rayna. Like something I might have seen growing up on first Earth. Not quite as sheer, maybe.”
“Good. Will set you apart. These bodysuits have no imagination. This is why I still dress in Cossack tradition.”
Sam parsed her words with care. “It’s lovely, Rayna. Are you giving me this dress as a gift?”
Rayna buried a laugh. “I ordered this from Recon tube. If I made dress myself, then it would be gift. No, Samantha Pynn. You will wear this dress one time.”
The pit in her stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
Rayna looked toward the rear of the dome, which was a much larger structure than most. There, her newborns – only a few days old – slept in peace.
“I have question,” Rayna said. “When you slide into bed at night and pull sheets over you, what are your first thoughts? Do you see man you love? Does Michael Cooper call to you? Ah. I see it in your eyes. Is pleasant thought. Yes? Perhaps to become pleasant dream. But then, I wonder. Where does your mind go next? Do you dream of killing Rayna Tsukanova?”
Sam reached the edge of patience. The games. The torture. What was it with this Ukrainian lunatic?
“We all have moments of reflection,” Sam said. “When we’re alone, we dream of good things, and sometimes we have bad dreams. But our private moments are meant for no one else.”
Rayna wagged a finger. “Ah. Is very political answer. Is OK. I know you wish to kill me. Only a spineless woman would not after what I did to you. Suppose I give you one chance.”
“What?”
“To kill me. One chance. Is possible you will succeed. But is also possible asteroid will crash into middle of JaRa.”
Sam groaned. She didn’t bother parsing this time.
“I don’t wish to kill you, Rayna. I just want to know why. The reasons you gave on Lioness made no sense. They sounded like the ramblings of a crazy woman, and I don’t believe you’re crazy.”
“She is.”
Sam didn’t see the shadow in the doorway when James entered. She drew the dress in close and wrapped her arms over her chest.
“Husband,” Rayna said, rising to kiss him. Sam looked away while these eight-foot creatures became passionate. “Is it arranged?”
“It will be announced any moment. Everything as you requested.”
“Wonderful, husband. Should I tell our guest the good news?”
“Enjoy. I will visit our daughters.”
James ignored Sam as he brushed past. Rayna bent down beside Sam’s chair and grabbed her by the arm.
“Today, I present my babies to the city. It will be new tradition. Although in truth, it is old tradition. You see, many years ago, the natives of this planet used to have ceremony for young ones. It was called Assignment. The child was brought before clan and laid in shallow pool of water. The family stood in circle and watched. But family was naked; we will not do this part. The child was given official name. The clan sanctified honor and morality upon the child.
“I have given already the names for my girls. After today, we will announce names at Assignment. Is good to honor tradition. No?”
“Yes, Rayna. Traditions are good. Am I to be part of this?”
“You will serve your purpose, Samantha Pynn. Then you will try to assassinate me, but you will fail. I will kill you instead.” As Sam’s heart fell, Rayna leaned in. “Be assured, we will not make killing a regular part of this tradition.”
Sam fell dumb. What words might matter now? Dare she fall on her knees and beg? Sam was right about Rayna. She wasn’t a crazy woman; she just loved the spectacle of victory and death. Valentin predicted she might be pleasant after the birth of her girls given how she behaved after Benjamin and Peter arrived. How could he have been so wrong? Why did she ever dare to hope?
“Now,” Rayna said. “Put on dress. You look ridiculous.”
Sam fought the tears as she followed Rayna’s instruction, but they defeated her. She lowered her chin as the Ukrainian studied the finished product.
“Is nice, Samantha Pynn. Your short hair complements dress. You look very pure, which is far from truth, of course.” Rayna ran a hand through Sam’s hair. “Do you remember what I last said about Michael Cooper? How he will come for you, but he will see you die? Do you remember this? He must hurry, or he will miss chance to see you fall.”
Rayna looked away. “What do you think, husband? Is she like girl you knew in Alabama?”
James broke away from the babies and studied Sam with a long, leering glare. She didn’t need to hear his response to see the obvious: There was no humanity inside this creature. Did either of them actually care about their children? Or were they prizes? Wasn’t today’s so-called “Assignment” nothing more than theatrics?
“Jamie Sheridan cared for her,” he said. “But he was a weak, self-loathing boy without a spine to act on his urges. He couldn’t award himself one moment of pleasure, not even when he was alone. When he finally learned the truth, he kissed her goodbye and thought he was being nob
le.” James turned to his wife. “Am I droning on?”
“You are, James. My husband becomes this way when he reminisces. Speaking of the past, do you wish to tell her now? Soon will be too late. No?”
They kissed again. Long and wet, for an audience of one.
“You should oversee preparations for the ceremony,” he said. “Cecily, Dharma, and Alistair are there now. Make sure they meet your specifications. Yes?”
“A fine suggestion. They have good taste but not like mine. And Bartok? Does he know what must be done?”
“He’ll do what’s necessary.”
Rayna leaned into her husband but turned her gaze to Sam.
“All must do what is necessary. No? Goodbye, Samantha Pynn. I will see you soon.”
After his wife left, James returned to the rear but added:
“I want to show you something. Come here, Samantha.”
She hesitated. If she ran, there was every chance she’d make it. But to where? Through the city to Valentin, assuming he returned. And then what?
Sam looked down at her yellow dress, which she acknowledged was very beautiful in a simple, sacrificial lamb sort of way. She approached James, who stood beside his daughters’ crib.
“My goal,” he said, “is ten more children in the next four years. My wife hates me for it. By then, we will have our first grandchildren. In ten years, I will have thirty grandchildren. And on and on. By the time I die, I will have thousands of living descendants. When the Jewels finish terraforming Aeterna, the hybrids will number in the hundreds of thousands. Everyone will know this was not possible without me.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He leaned in and smiled at his daughters.
“Because I like talking about myself. But also, because I want you to know what will happen after you’re gone. I assume Rayna said this was your last day?”
Sam was tired of the balancing act. No more.
“Why did you have to be this way, James? Why so cruel?”
“This is what you think of me? Hmmph. Is it cruel to want a better life for my people? Is it cruel to free billions of humans from three thousand years of oppression? Is it cruel to create a new, just order in the universe? Is it cruel to teach valuable lessons to those who oppose a righteous crusade?”
She heard this sort of talk before from zealots who could justify any action.
“It is,” she said, “if all you do is punish and slaughter everyone in your path. Is this why you plan to kill me today? To punish me because what? I wasn’t honest about who you were growing up? Because I was supposedly going to treat you like a servant monster?”
He threw back a deep, guttural laugh and waved her off. James stepped away from the crib and motioned her forward.
“I know what you think,” he said. “Same as my brother and my wife. Why do I obsess over you? What difference do you make in the long run? None and everything. What I told you about being your ‘servant monster?’ Eh. I made it up because it was strong rhetoric. What you seem to misunderstand is this: I don’t hate you or harbor any resentment for your role in Alabama. On the contrary, I don’t care about you one way or the other.”
Sam burst. “Then why kidnap me? Why go to all this trouble?”
“To become a god, I must listen to the gods. And not long after I escaped Earth, the Jewels predicted you would play an important role in my future. As we neared Aeterna, they saw your final moments here. I’ve come to trust the algorithm of life. Granted, they were vague on your role, but no more.
“Things are about to happen that will cement our future on Aeterna. Your failed attempt to assassinate my wife will be the first trigger. Your purpose is clear at last.”
She wanted to tell him the truth, to brace him for a future far shorter than he imagined. Did his daughters deserve the same fate? Would the Jewels spare them? Sam wasn’t going to predict or drop a hint.
“I have no intention of killing anyone,” she said.
“You will.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I’ve made sure of it. Sometimes, the future needs a push.”
Sam threw up her hands. “Then why not go outside now and finish it? You want to sacrifice me to the Jewels? Do it.”
“Oh, Samantha. You don’t understand them like I do. They waited a million years for me. They saw my unique possibilities before I knew there was a world outside Albion, Alabama, let alone another universe. I’m sure you recall Jamie Sheridan’s inexplicable fit of anger and violence the day after his so-called parents died? Yes?”
She nodded, and James continued. “That morning, my Jewel spoke to me for the first time. ‘You have the heart of a killer. You are a monster,’ it said. ‘You will lay waste to every enemy. Oceans will turn red. You will hold the compass to redefine the human race.’ It also said I would be revered as a god.
“Its rage became my rage. I passed the test. Afterward, it closed off my memory. I spent the next twenty-seven months in darkness living as a sad, lonely loser in the ass-crack of America. My only regret is the time lost. I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it’s like to be gifted qualities never before seen. I am the single most consequential being to walk among the stars in a million years.”
Sam didn’t even try to react. How could she? How could anyone? But she knew what happened a million years ago because she was there, if only as a brief witness. She assumed the J’Hai who betrayed his younger brother and launched an apocalyptic war might have declared the same messianic nonsense. More history full circle.
You’re so lost. I am not even sorry anymore.
If it was meant to be, Sam was willing to accept her fate. But she hoped for a chance to see James die first.
63
70 minutes earlier
M ICHAEL LOVED THE NEW BODY ARMOR. It molded to his every contour, just like the Guard version, but it took comfort and breathability to a new level. It was more than thick fabric capable of absorbing energy weapons and dulling the impact of projectiles. The black and bronze organic casing expanded and shrank in isolated regions depending upon the soldier’s needs. Its water reclamation canals converted perspiration and urine to potable water ten times faster than Guard fabric. Its synthetic nerve receptors allowed full touch sensation despite covering the fingers, a clear upgrade.
Best of all, Michael loved being able to customize his weapons pouches. Valentin showed him how to use a three-fingered press to grow a pouch. The organic skin wrapped around the weapon and hid all but the outer handle (or hilt, in the case of Michael’s Lin’taava sword) for ease of access. He ran through a series of quick moves, retrieving and stowing weapons. He was so excited, Michael asked:
“I could live in this for months, right?”
Valentin, racing through a holocube to bring this armor online to the Salvation network and link Michael’s stream amp, nodded.
“Only if you’re not interested in sexual intercourse.”
“That’s a glitch. Hey, what about?” He pointed south and behind.
“Three fingers,” Valentin said with rolled eyes, as if he’d answered the question a few hundred times already.
“Outstanding. Yet another upgrade. Who designed this?”
“My brother takes credit,” Valentin said without losing focus on the data package. “But it’s a Jewel design. James borrowed the architecture for all our best tools from the Jewels’ Creators. The J’Hai, as you call them. Slope travel, bicomms, refractors, railgun camouflage. A long list. We collaborated on the color scheme for the armor.” He backed off. “OK, good. You have full access.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. You have railguns? Those are cool.”
“Test your helmet.”
Michael tapped his collar by instinct. Nothing happened.
Valentin grinned. “Your amp is linked to the armor. You activate and retract the helmet with a thought. Visualize. The organic construct will scan your cranial region and encase in nine-tenths of a second. Three times faster t
han the latest Guard model.”
“So, if I think it, I’ll command it to happen?”
“Yes.” Valentin blinked, and his helmet instantly wrapped around his head and bonded to the armor at neck level. “Try it.”
He did. Helmet on. In a flash, Michael was living inside a bubble of virtual tools and a convex gradient which created a roomy, three-dimensional construct. He felt claustrophobic his first time inside a DR29. Here, the helmet seemed more like a living space.
“The S-1 Tracking Gradient will require some adjustment,” Valentin said, “but the principles of interactivity and weapons control are similar. We have ten-year-olds who mastered it in an hour.”
Helmet off. “Ten? That young for combat?”
Valentin dropped his helmet. “They have no reason to fear death, and they’re committed. Many will not face combat, but they should be prepared if called upon.”
“I don’t know. It’s just … they’re so small.” He nodded outside the Scramjet, where the six immortals he killed were now recovering and washing their hair in the river. “Guard soldiers are …”
“Not much older. Bigger, yes. More skilled in combat. Yes. But not as devoted. And, as you now see, wearing inferior armor. What did my soldiers do to your team on Tamarind? They also wiped out a Guard squadron on Euphrates.”
Michael was pushing the edge of hypocrisy. He spent months slaughtering hopelessly outgunned Mongols. At this point, debating the ethics of child soldiering was not going to bolster his new alliance. The armor and helmet were remarkable, perfect against a Guard with superior numbers. Moreover, Valentin cared for these children; after they awakened, he preached discipline, not rage against their attacker. It didn’t make Michael’s apology while dressed in Guard colors any less awkward, but Valentin made them see the bigger picture.
Michael was fortunate this Scramjet model contained a Recon tube. Valentin dared not bring him into JaRa wearing Guard armor. Even disguised as a Salvation immortal, his presence would be problematic.
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