Trixie's throat clenched. “You don't understand. I couldn't face my father, my new husband, or the guests who'd come from all over the solar system for a week's celebration. It was the wedding of the century.”
“By the Halls of Montezuma!” He stared at her, eyes wide. “I heard about that scandal, even on Mars. It was all over the news holovids. I was mobilized in readiness for immediate intervention. The global government feared an all-out war between the two families, and given their private military might, several space stations and moon-based military installations were at risk.”
Trixie nodded, relieved that he finally understood. “Yes, I am the very same Lady Beatrix Blair... the rebellious heiress who fled the nuptial bed... almost starting a galactic war in the process.”
Kostas whistled. “I knew you were a little rich girl, but I never suspected the Blair girl. You look so... different from the holovids.”
“I changed my appearance. The uniform helped me blend in with the crowd. I also clipped my hair short and returned to my natural blond shade. Something my father would never let me do. He has dark hair, so I had to have dark hair, too. I finally feel free to breathe.” Even more so, now that she'd unburdened herself.
From this distance, her tribulations on Earth almost seemed trivial... if not for the specter of war. But she trusted her father. Control freak that he was, she had no doubt he would limit the damages.
“That took courage to give up all that luxury, that golden life most people only dream of.” A hint of admiration tainted his voice.
“Believe me, all that glamour comes at too high a price.” Her voice caught in her throat.
He nodded. “Your freedom?”
“And your soul, if you embrace the lifestyle.” She felt so good now that she had told someone. She offered Kostas a grateful smile. “Thanks for listening. How about you? How did you get to be on this expedition?”
A loud whistling made Trixie look up.
Projectiles overhead streaked a blazing trail through the high atmosphere, like a shower of burning meteorites. Their long trajectory almost paralleled the ground and left a trail of smoke. The horses whinnied and reared, pawing the air. Inexperienced riders cried in alarm.
The gray mare reared and bucked, but Trixie kept her balance. Several young men flew through the air and landed in the mud. One remained caught in a stirrup as his horse bolted. He screamed, dragged over the rutted ground of the path. Horses with empty saddles galloped after him.
Tabor swore under his breath. Harnesses jingled as he regained control of his black stallion.
“I'm on him.” Kostas, who'd kept his mount calm, kicked and started after the screaming young man, whose head bounced on the soft ground like that of a dislocated puppet.
Tabor yelled at the garrison recruits in the confusion. “Tighten the reins. Keep on your horse.”
Another projectile whistled overhead. Trixie's mare darted after the runaway horses, toward the citadel. The mare quickly reached a full gallop as she raced. Wraith! Trixie doubled on the reins and was grasping handfuls of mane, holding on for dear life.
A fall at such speed could be fatal. She'd seen equestrians paralyzed for life from a fall in a low-gravity polo game. And this planet was a heavy world, just like Earth.
She couldn't remember how to stop a runaway horse. Strands of instructions came back to Trixie's mind, like don't panic. Easier said than done. Keep your feet in the stirrups. Ride the horse, follow its rhythm. That was a lot to ask from a novice like her, but she matched the cadence of the galloping mare as best she could.
Next to her, another horse ran at breakneck speed. The young rider was hanging halfway out of the saddle, yanking the reins. His feet had lost the stirrups that flapped on the blanket with each bounce, probably scaring the beast even more.
“Get your feet in the stirrups!” Trixie yelled, surprised by her commanding tone. “Straighten up!”
Shaken by her apparent self-confidence, the young man found the stirrups. He straightened in the saddle, still stiff but hanging on.
“They'll stop when they are spent!” Trixie relaxed in the saddle somewhat, keeping her balance, letting the horse run free, hoping its fear would abate so she could gradually regain control. But the mare didn't show any sign of slowing down.
Trixie spotted Kostas ahead of them to the side. He had stopped the runaway horse who had dragged the garrison student. Now he carried the young man in his arms. Trixie couldn't tell whether the recruit was dead or alive. Her mare just sprinted by, headed for the drawbridge.
Only when the runaway horses neared the drawbridge did they finally slow down. Trixie was able to control and stop her mare, while the riderless mounts crossed the bridge, headed for the stable.
The young man at her side pulled on the reins and managed to stop his mount, still shaking from fright.
“Are you all right?” she asked, although she could tell he wasn't.
“I think so.” The youth swallowed. “Thanks. I think you saved my life.”
“No, you saved yourself. I just reminded you of what to do, and you did it.”
He nodded, understanding brightening his blue gaze. “I did, didn't I?”
Trixie answered his smile. “Congratulations.”
When Trixie turned around, she saw the rest of the riders coming at a canter, closely framed by the horsemen into a tight group.
Ahead of that group, next to Tabor, Kostas rode toward her. The young man he'd apparently saved rode double in front of him in the saddle. As they approached, she noticed the young man's haggard stare and the blood and mud caked on his face and hair. She only hoped the scary experience wouldn't drive him to leave the garrison. They needed warriors.
Kostas seemed unfazed as he sidled up to her. They rode onto the metallic bridge side by side, followed by the young man Trixie had helped. The afternoon light turned to amber and soon would veer to pink. But it seemed each passing day was getting a little longer.
“I'll drop this kid off at the medic's hall,” Kostas said, apparently unaffected by the incident. “He doesn't look like he's broken any bones, but he has not spoken yet.”
“He's probably in shock.” Trixie understood how a brush with death could affect a young mind.
As they rode through the gate, Kostas waved at her. “I have work to do at the forge later tonight.” He pointed to his broken stirrup. “Need to forge another one. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Trixie's throat clenched. She swallowed hard and nodded. Kostas was withdrawing again. When would he ever break that hurtful habit? Hiding her tears, Trixie headed for the stables with the other recruits.
After a hot bath, she would go straight home. She didn't feel like retelling the incident all night in the refectory over hot kawa. Others could do it just as well.
What bothered her, however, was the projectiles that spooked the horses. They had to come from orbit... probably from the Goddian ship. But they didn't seem to damage anything and had a long-distance trajectory.
What were they?
Chapter Eleven
Trixie watched with apprehension as McLure rose at the council table, in yet another impeccably tailored suit of soft brown silk, a smile of self-satisfaction on his thin lips. “I am happy to report that phase one of the Noah’s Ark Project is complete.”
Trixie realized what it meant. The first seeds of animal life had been disseminated. “Was that the projectiles that spooked the horses and almost killed one of our garrison recruits?”
“I am sorry for the inconvenience, of course.” He flicked a speck of imaginary dust from his sleeve. “Had I known...”
Tabor slammed the table with his palm, fury in his dark eyes. “But you knew, McLure. You were here when we scheduled the riding lessons. You should have given us warning.”
“I wasn't aware I needed a horseman's approval for my scientific experiment.” The sarcasm cut the air like a quick blade.
The other councilmen and women glanced at each other. Trix
ie was glad Kostas worked his shift at the mine. He would have wrung McLure's neck.
She controlled her irritation. “Tabor is right, McLure. You should have warned the council.”
McLure looked down at her from his gangly height. “The Godds certainly do not need your personal blessings to implement this important project.”
Of course, the Godds would do whatever they pleased, without regard for the consequences to Humans. “It's just common courtesy. How can we coordinate our efforts, if everyone does everything in secret? Transparent communication at all levels is essential. That's why we have elected representatives, to spread information.”
“I would say that if you cannot keep the council members in line…” McLure paused and scanned the serious faces then returned his attention to Trixie. “Perhaps it's because you lack leadership skills.”
Trixie ground her jaw and bit down a harsh comment. She had to regain control of herself if she wanted to keep the respect of the delegates. “Everyone is performing beautifully and keeping the council informed, except for you, McLure. You are the proverbial fly in the ointment.”
“Don't be so sure.” His expression turned serious. “I want to have a word with you in private after this meeting. There are things about this council you should know.”
“We have no secrets here.” Trixie wouldn’t let McLure alienate her from the other members.
Tom, Cheng, and Tabor shot her questioning glances. The others stared at McLure.
“After I tell you what I just learned, believe me, you will not want everyone to know.” His tone of false confidentiality grated on her ears.
“I order you to tell everything you know to this council, right now.” Trixie took a calming breath. “If and when there is need for secrecy, we shall all take an oath of silence.”
McLure smirked. “It's your decision, but remember that you asked for it.”
Trixie couldn't imagine anything she would want to keep from the council. “Speak, McLure.”
“Well... I came across a bit of information about one of our members. One who fortunately is not present this morning.”
Trixie scanned the faces around the rough-hewn table. Several seats remained empty, those of the councilmen working the early morning shift with Kostas. “Go on.”
“As a geneticist, I had my suspicions early on, but the Godds just clarified an important bit of information for me. Then I was able to confirm it.”
Trixie sighed. “Get to the point, McLure.”
“One member of this council is not what he appears to be.”
Trixie snorted. “What does it matter? We all had our reasons to set sail on Noah’s Ark. Our policy was no questions asked. We all rejected our past to embark on an unknown course, toward a different future. What we did before joining this expedition is irrelevant.”
A murmur of agreement rumbled among the council members. All of them probably had secrets.
“But this is not about what one has done.” Unhealthy glee sparkled in McLure's steely gray eyes.
“Stop stirring the pot, McLure. Spit it out. What do you have to say?”
“The man you all know as Kostas...” McLure paused emphatically. “Is not a man.”
A confused silence filled the council chamber as members glanced at each other.
What trick was McLure pulling now? “Believe me, Kostas is a man.” A very potent man at that. Trixie could vouch for it. Yet something twisted in her gut. “What are you up to, McLure?”
“Nothing. Just seeking the truth.” McLure straightened to his full height. “Kostas may look Human, but his full denomination is Kostas3759, a decommissioned military clone, grown in a genetic lab on Mars, scheduled for the recycling biovats three months ago. That's when he went AWOL.”
“Unbelievable!” Trixie didn't think even McLure would stoop this low. “Have you no shame? You slander an honest man, a courageous soldier who protected our lives... just to discredit him, because he supports my authority.”
“Oh, but I do have proof.” The self-satisfaction on McLure's face spread into a diabolical grin.
Trixie wanted to slap him. “I do not believe you, and until you provide irrefutable proof, this issue is closed and will not be brought up again, or I'll have you locked up for slander. Understood?”
“Well, perhaps you will believe this.” McLure tapped his tablet and a 3D holographic portrait of Kostas sprung up, with an ID stamp from the Mars genetic labs. “Is this proof enough for you?”
Trixie blanched. Cold spread into her chest. Her extremities went numb. But it had to be a lie. Clones were things, not people. She would not believe it unless she heard it from Kostas himself. “Anyone can fabricate a document like this. This is no proof at all.”
“You are entitled to your opinion, of course. But other proof I have, and I will present it at our next council meeting.”
An icy sluice drenched Trixie's shoulders. Could this be the reason Kostas never spoke of his past? Something deep inside her chest told her McLure might be right. But if he were right, then Kostas had committed the unforgivable. He'd broken the most sacred Human law. She couldn't imagine the implications. As a clone, he would have no rights at all.
She didn't believe he could be a soulless replica, little more than a bionic machine. How could she have fallen for such a fake? Was she so desperate for companionship that she fell for a utility automaton, a mock-up Space Marine without soul or feelings? No. She couldn't have been that wrong about Kostas. He was a wonderful man. He loved her, she needed to believe that.
“Until you provide real proof, McLure, no one is to speak these damaging words. Or there will be consequences... understood?” She scanned the shocked faces, gleaning nods of agreement from each of the members. “Meeting adjourned.”
Trixie was due in the mine shortly, but she would seek out Kostas as soon as she returned from her shift, and confront him about this. She would see McLure exposed for the ruthless back stabber he really was.
* * *
As she neared the smithy, Trixie could hear the clang of the hammer beating steel in a regular cadence, bouncing off the anvil after each blow. The smell of fire and hot metal filled her nostrils. She stopped, unsure she wanted to know the truth. What if McLure were right?
Through the open awning she saw Kostas wearing a leather apron to protect his bare chest, arm muscles slick and shiny with sweat, moving in perfect synch. The more she thought about it, the more she feared the truth. With a body like that, he could very well be a lab clone. But she pushed away her doubts. A simple conversation would clear this matter.
“Kostas?”
The pounding slowed then ceased. He grabbed the bar of red-hot metal with pincers and dipped it into a wooden vat of water that hissed from the searing steel. Only then did Kostas lift his gaze to her.
“Hey! I don't remember you coming to see me at the forge before.” He grinned. “Must be important. Did you miss me?”
Now that she faced him, Trixie felt silly about her incongruous inquest. Who asked another person if they were real or fake? So, she went around it. “Did you talk to any council member since you came back from the mine?”
Kostas shook his head. “I haven't seen anyone. Just been here, working. I want to finish this blade before my martial arts class starts.” As Trixie remained silent, Kostas dropped the hammer and wiped his hands on the leather apron. “Why? What happened at the morning council?”
“McLure brought up accusations against you.” She couldn't make herself say the words.
His jaw clenched. “What kind of accusation?”
“The kind that violates everything sacred to a Human being.” Trixie dared to hope he wouldn't understand what she meant and would ask for clarification.
But Kostas had a pained look in his brown eyes as his brow knitted. Then he dropped to a nearby stool and buried his head in his hands
“How did he find out?” he asked in a soft, defeated voice.
“You mean it's true?” Tr
ixie didn't want it to be true.
“I'm not sure what the son of a bitch told you, but I have a pretty good idea.” He raised his gaze to her. “If he told you I'm an AWOL military clone scheduled for recycle, he's right about that.”
Trixie's heart stopped. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Such a thing could never happen to her... yet it had. Not only Kostas was an abomination, but he had betrayed her trust by hiding his true nature.
The betrayal hurt even more than the ignominy of having sexual relations with a warrior clone pumped full of testosterones for military strength and aggressiveness. A clone with delusional dreams of humanity. She felt cheated, cheapened, shameful. As if she wasn't good enough for a real man.
“Please tell me you are joking.” She hated the pleading tone in her voice. “Tell me it's not true.”
* * *
The despair in Trixie's eyes made Kostas wail inside. Here was the woman he loved, and McLure had destroyed any hope of them ever having a happy life together.
As Trixie sat there, staring at him in shocked silence, hoping he would deny McLure's accusations, Kostas realized he'd just lost everything.
These last weeks, he'd dared to hope against all hope that life as a Human being might be possible for him. But it had only been a dream. No matter where he went, at the slightest allusion to his origins, no one would ever give him a chance. He'd been doomed since the day he'd emerged, fully grown, from his tank.
“I'm sorry.” His voice came as a whisper. “I never meant to hurt you, Angel. That's the last thing I wanted.”
“So why did you flirt with me? Why did you start this relationship?” The hurt in her voice scared him more than her wrath ever could.
“Because I was attracted to you. Because even though you don't think I'm a man, I feel like one.”
“Bullshit. A clone has no feelings. Everyone knows that.”
“That's my problem. Although I shouldn't, I do have feelings. I care about you, very much.” He looked away. He couldn't face her accusing stare.
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