‘Your guns started working again because Military Security turned them back on.’
‘Oh I see.’ I remembered where I’d heard the name Lorin. ‘Captain Lorin was Rayne Tar Cameron’s deputy, wasn’t he? I thought it was Qwin Marston in the suit. Stupid of me.’
‘Qwin Marston was involved as well. The Marius clan paid him and Lorin to try and stop you joining our clan. Marston’s under arrest for murdering Rayne Tar Cameron. He’d somehow found out her command codes. We think she caught Marston using them to authorize Lorin to portal here, so he killed her.’
‘Oh.’ My numb brain tried to take that in. The flawless Rayne Tar Cameron had finally made a mistake. She’d believed Qwin Marston loved her, when he only wanted a transfer to Zulu base and access to her command codes. ‘But what was the point in killing me and Fian now? I’ve already joined my clan.’
‘Marston and Lorin were also militant Isolationists,’ shouted Drago. ‘They knew only you and Fian could shut down the alien defences and give us access to Fortuna, and they wanted to stop human culture being polluted by alien influences.’
I bit my lip. When I decided to gatecrash a class of norms at the start of this year, I’d had no idea it would end like this. I’d just killed a man, and Major Rayne Tar Cameron and His Excellency Captain Draven Fedorov Seti Raven, Knight of Adonis had sacrificed their lives for me. For chaos sake, Rayne hadn’t even liked me!
I brushed mingled tears and blood from my eyes, and watched the teetering, crippled wreck of the Land Raft island recede into the distance, as the lift beam carried Drago and me to safety.
34
When we arrived back at Zulu base, Fian and I went to our apartment to endure the agonizing wait before I had my surgery. I was scared to death, not just of this cure failing, but also of it succeeding. If it worked, I’d have to live the rest of my life with an artificial web controlling my immune system.
All my life, I’d hated what fate had done to me, and desperately wanted two things. To be able to travel to the stars, and to prove I was as human as the norms. Society was finally accepting the Handicapped as being truly human rather than throwbacks, but after this operation I wouldn’t be either norm or Handicapped. I’d have the stars I always wanted, but would I really be human?
I didn’t want to go through with this operation, but I had to. There was too much at stake for me to refuse, and anyway I quite literally had no choice. If I changed my mind, said I wouldn’t go through with this …
General Torrek would be back in command of the Alien Contact programme soon. He’d cared deeply for my grandmother. I was her Honour Child, born to carry her name, and he cared about me too. He’d never use Alien Contact emergency powers to order the doctors to do the operation without my consent, he’d resign from his post as commanding officer instead, but then Colonel Stone would have to do it and find it hard to live with herself afterwards.
I didn’t want to put either of them through that, so I had to survive the torture of the waiting hours and go through this voluntarily. Fian wasn’t saying anything about how he felt, but I could see by the look in his eyes that this was even harder for him than for me. I tried to fill the time with practical things that would help him if events went badly.
Military officers are supposed to record a farewell message to be sent to friends and family in the event of their death in action. This seemed a good time to record mine. I’m not sure how much sense it made, there was so much I couldn’t explain because of security restrictions, but at least it meant Fian wouldn’t have to contact everyone and tell them himself.
I sent the recording off to the section of Military Support that’s officially called Life Events, and unofficially Death Events, because that’s what they really deal with. Then I sent Fian off into another room for a few minutes, while I made another recording that was just for him.
‘This is for Major Fian Andrej Eklund, so anyone else should stop watching right now.’ I waited a few seconds before speaking again. ‘Fian, I’m really bad at emotional stuff, so there are things I’ve never really said. I can’t say them even now, because I don’t know how to put them into words. I’m better at showing I care with physical actions, so … Remember every hug. Remember every night. Remember the way we’d watch our favourite nardle vid series and have fun acting out the scenes. I love you, and we may not have had long together, but every minute was totally, totally zan!’
I hesitated. If I was a truly good person like Candace, or Dalmora, I’d say something else now. Something about how I hoped Fian would find someone else one day, and be happy with them. I’m not a good person though. I didn’t want Fian to be happy with someone else, even my own clone. I wanted him to be happy with me.
I wasn’t giving up on us yet. I was going to fight for my life, and if I did live … Fian had been stubborn enough to still care about me when he found out I was Handicapped. Maybe he’d be stubborn enough to still care about me when I was … whatever I ended up being.
So I just ended the message, tagged it as being private for Fian, and sent that off to Life Events as well. Then I called Fian back into the room. ‘You remember I had one call from my parents before they were killed?’
He nodded. ‘Back on New York Dig Site.’
‘All I remember of it is a huge emotional blur, but I recorded the call. I think I’m finally ready to watch that recording.’
‘You want me to see this too?’
I nodded. ‘We’re past the stage where I shut you out of things.’
We sat on the couch, Fian put his arm round me, and I played the recording on our wall vid in split screen. One side showed a man and woman in Military uniform. The other showed a girl in a black impact suit, her hood tugged down, her hair tangled round a tear-stained face, her expression flickering between passionate anger and delight.
‘It was a difficult situation when you were born,’ said the woman with the hair that was like mine but longer. ‘You were portalled to a Hospital Earth Infant Crash unit. I was still having medical treatment on a Military base in Kappa sector. Your father …’
‘I was on assignment as an emergency replacement commanding officer for a Planet First team,’ said the man with the face that was a darker skinned, male version of my own. ‘They were in deep trouble, they’d already lost one commanding officer, and I couldn’t walk out on them.’
Part of me was caught up in the emotions I’d felt back then, but another part was catching details I’d missed when the call happened. I knew so much more about the Military now than I had back then. The insignia my parents wore showed they were both Colonels. They would normally have been together when I was born, but my father had been sent on emergency assignment. If a Planet First team had lost their commanding officer, then they must indeed have been in deep, deep trouble. No, my father couldn’t just walk out on them.
‘Hospital Earth rules said at least one parent had to go to live on Earth, or you’d be raised as their ward,’ said my mother. ‘When I suggested moving to Earth, your sister, Gemelle, was just shocked, but your brother … Jaxon said he’d rather kill himself, and I was afraid he really meant it.’
I remembered Jaxon breaking down with guilt at the betrothal ceremony. He’d described what happened when I was born as him throwing childish tantrums, but it had actually been worse than that.
‘I didn’t know what to do,’ my mother continued. ‘No one else could go in our place, because Hospital Earth said it had to be a genetic parent. We took legal advice, but we were told Hospital Earth made the laws on Earth so …’
The end of the call was the only bit I’d remembered clearly. I was crying as I listened to it again.
‘In theory, we’re on this assignment for at least another three months,’ said my mother, ‘but things are getting messy on this planet so we may have to pull out. If we do, then perhaps you’ll let us visit you on Earth.’
Things hadn’t just got messy on that planet in distant Kappa sector, they’d ended in a disas
ter that killed both my parents. I felt a stab of pain as the recording ended, not for the loss of childhood dreams of fantasy parents and happy endings, but for the death of two real and humanly imperfect people. My parents had abandoned their newborn baby, and that wasn’t the right thing to do, but sometimes things are such a mess that you can’t do what’s right, you can only do the best you can.
‘What now?’ asked Fian.
‘I’ve got a book to write. This cure may … mess up my memory. If it does, I’ll want to know what happened and why I had to do this. There isn’t time to write a proper book, but I can at least record myself telling the story.’ I paused and chose my next words carefully. ‘Perhaps one of us can tidy it up later and add the ending.’
Fian gave the promise I needed, without saying the words I didn’t want to hear. ‘Yes, one of us will definitely do that.’
So we spent hours hugging, while I talked into my lookup, and Fian interrupted me when I forgot something important. Sometimes we both laughed at silly little things, like Raven charging in on us playing Stalea of the Jungle games, and me arriving at the betrothal ceremony clutching a carton of cheese fluffle.
When Fian and I finished recording the story, we spent the remaining hours lying awake in each other’s arms, because neither of us wanted to waste time sleeping. Finally, Military Security escorted us to the Medical Centre, and a doctor took me off into a featureless white room and asked me to lie down on a bed.
‘One last thing,’ I said. ‘If I make it through this, I want to be the first person to see what I look like afterwards. No one should visit me before then. I don’t mean doctors, I mean other people.’
‘I understand what you mean, Commander.’ The doctor sprayed something into my neck that sent me into nothingness.
35
There was agonizing pain crushing my chest and radiating down my arms. For years, I’d been determined that when I was 14 I’d take up my option to try portalling off world. Everyone told me I was a fool to do it, because Hospital Earth didn’t make mistakes about diagnosing people as Handicapped. Issette and all my friends told me, Candace told me, the Principal of my Next Step told me, my teachers told me, even my nuking ProDad insisted on meeting me and going on record that he’d told me.
They all told me, and I insisted on doing it anyway, but I hadn’t thought it would hurt this much. Why weren’t the doctors sending me back to Earth? Were they going to let me die here?
I tried to open my eyes, tried to yell at them to send me back to Earth, but the pain was paralysing me. There was a jumble of voices that seemed a long way away. I couldn’t work out what they were saying, but then one of them shouted above the rest.
‘None of this is working. She’s entering brain death. Get her back in the tank!’
Tank? Regrowth tank? My brain fought off the pain long enough to work out what was happening. I was 18, not 14. Sending me back to Earth wouldn’t save me, because I was already on Earth. I was dying.
I didn’t want to die alone in a tank. I wanted Fian! I tried to say that but I couldn’t move my mouth. The pain reached a crescendo of pure agony, then abruptly stopped and the world went away.
36
Someone was calling my name, which meant I was back out of the tank. I instinctively tensed, ready for the crushing pain to start again, but it didn’t.
‘Commander Tell Morrath, can you hear me?’ That was Colonel Leveque’s voice.
‘Yes, sir.’ I opened my eyes and saw him looking down at me. I was alive, things didn’t hurt, and I recognized Colonel Leveque. I was still me!
‘Please remain lying perfectly still,’ said Leveque.
My jubilation turned to alarm. ‘What’s wrong? Why do I have to lie still, and why are you here instead of a doctor?’
‘You have to lie still because your implanted web is still in primary initialization mode, Commander. We’re under time pressure, so I’m here to brief you on recent developments while primary initialization completes.’
That did nothing to help the sick feeling in my stomach. What was going on here? I furtively tried wriggling fingers and toes, and was relieved that everything seemed to be there and working and humanly warm.
‘We encountered some problems with the artificial control of your immune system,’ said Leveque.
‘I remember being put back in the tank.’
He nodded. ‘Your immune system wasn’t responding to the signals from the web. You went into brain death, so the doctors put your body back in the tank while they worked on a solution to the problem.’
‘Brain death? I have brain damage?’
‘Full brain function has been restored by significant regrowth of brain tissue,’ said Leveque.
‘They can’t have regrown my brain. That affects memories and …’ I spent a second scanning through memories of Nursery, Home, Next Step, and the events of this year. Nursery was a little hazy of course, but the rest of it was definitely still there.
‘Your memories and personality had already been recorded by technology developed by Cioni’s Apprentices, and were restored after the brain regrowth,’ said Leveque. ‘The use of this technology was forbidden under the protection of humanity laws after the Persephone incident, so it’s preferable the issue of brain damage does not become public knowledge.’
‘Persephone! How could the Military use the Persephone technology?’
‘We were assisted by Cioni’s Apprentices,’ said Leveque. ‘Again, it’s preferable this should not become public knowledge.’
‘What! The Apprentices still exist? How did they get involved?’
‘You were in a tank for far longer than expected, Commander,’ said Leveque.
‘Longer than expected? How much longer?’ Had I been in that tank for years, decades even? I thought of Fian getting older, giving up hope, finding someone else. He might have a wife and kids by now, and …
‘Today is 10 November 2789,’ said Leveque.
Not years then, just three months. I relaxed for a brief second before I thought of a new reason to panic. ‘Three months! That means the Planet First vote has already happened! What did …?’
‘Please let me brief you on events in the order they happened,’ said Leveque. ‘The Military had to inform Joint Sector High Congress Committee of the discovery of the alien home world. They were also told about the planetary defence system, and the problems activating the pedestal. On your first day in the tank, one of the Alpha sector committee members gave that information to the newzies. She was deeply prejudiced against those born with Novak-Nadal syndrome, and hoped to prevent Earth from joining Alpha sector.’
I groaned. ‘So everyone knows I messed up. The Planet First vote must have failed and … Sorry, carry on.’
‘There was a storm of angry debate on the newzies, so the General Marshal obtained Major Eklund’s consent to give a full statement on your medical situation. When people heard the risks you were taking, public opinion swung back in your favour. There was also an unexpected development. Major Eklund’s father contacted him offering the help of Cioni’s Apprentices. Apparently, Major Eklund had never been told of his father’s membership, because the Apprentices felt his preference for history over science made him an undesirable recruit.’
‘Fian’s father is … Well, that explains a lot, but why the chaos would he want to help me?’
‘The Apprentices are dedicated to the advancement of science, and therefore eager for humanity to gain access to the alien technology. They wished to safeguard your memories and personality so you could successfully activate the pedestal.’
Now I understood. Fian’s father didn’t care about me, but he did care about science.
‘After the web failed, and you were returned to the tank, the mood of Parliament of Planets was unclear,’ continued Leveque. ‘Lucius Augustus Gordianus opted to delay the Planet First vote to the last day of the current session of Parliament.’
‘What date is that?’ I asked.
Leveq
ue frowned. ‘Your memory of that is missing?’
‘I never knew it. I’ve never been interested in off-world politics.’
‘The fifth Parliament session of the year always ends the day before Wallam-Crane Day,’ said Leveque.
‘So the vote is in four days time, on 14 November,’ I muttered to myself.
‘The doctors are now attempting to solve the web control issue, by a combination of recalibrating the web and increasing the intensity of the light pulses.’ Leveque glanced at a small object in his hand. ‘Primary initialization is now complete and the web is entering the stabilization phase. That will take between one and five hours. If stabilization successfully completes, then your immune system problems will be permanently cured. Unfortunately, there is a significant chance of failure. I estimate a probability of …’
I interrupted him. ‘I don’t want to know the probability. Just tell me what happens if it isn’t successful. I die?’
‘If the web fails to stabilize, then control of your immune system will begin to slowly degrade over several hours. You would be returned to a tank while doctors work on a new solution.’
I’d be back in a tank again. Even if they eventually found a new solution, it might fail as well. I had visions of a nightmare future, where I went through this over and over again. That wouldn’t be living, that would be …
I forced that thought aside. There were much more important things at stake than my life, and Leveque was telling me these things for an obvious reason. ‘So we may only have a few hours for me to get to Fortuna’s moon and activate the pedestal. I have to go there right away.’
‘That would be highly desirable,’ said Leveque.
‘Do the newzies know what’s happening?’
He nodded. ‘The General Marshal felt it was best to keep them fully informed.’
‘But they don’t know the chimera aren’t extinct?’