by Rayner Ye
“And what happened? Did he die?” her eldest son asked.
“Yes. I saw it in the scrying lake. The locals found him dead in the river.” She broke down in tears, and her body shuddered with every sob. Her only sibling—her lovely big brother. The locals had thought he was a demon because of his appearance.
“But we had no key!” her eldest said, frowning. “It was in Giok’s pyramid so that she could have only returned alone.”
Maharaanee sighed. “She’d learned a great deal about time travel during her asylum with the crow woman in Eeporyo. Roobish withheld many secrets before her amnesia.”
“Why didn’t she take us all back and save our species?” He asked.
“She told me before she died that only one person could tag along with a person who had reset time,” Mahaar said. “Uncle Bok should never have gone.”
Mahaaraanee nodded. “I regret it every day. I should’ve refused. My position as High Priestess would’ve given me the authority, but it was hard to say no.”
“It’s been and gone!” Kala’s sweet voice called.
“Yes,” Mahaaraanee said. “Bamdar will go to a moon jail, so we need not worry about slavery anymore.”
“Did Aedre take the key from his Satsang artefacts?” Mahaar asked.
“No. But Aedre’s looking and still wants to help the villagers escape a volcanic eruption ten years from her time.”
“Can you watch her in your scrying lake?” her eldest asked.
“Yes. The guards can help me set up camp there, but I’ll continue my speech about Roobish first.”
The audience gazed at her.
“Roobish tried to undo some of her wrongdoings by sacrificing her memory, and the younger Aedre has succeeded in getting rid of Bamdar for good. But Roobish became deceitful. Why she listened to an Eeporyovian crow woman and kept the keys a secret from us is beyond me. Her betrayal will always linger in my heart.”
The wind picked up, and Maharaanee pulled her cloak tight. “We have learned a lesson today. Only rely on our race. Both my brother and grandson died for the love they had for Roobish. We must find a key, and bring Kaal back!”
Chapter 13*Bamdar
Zedrom entered Bamdar’s air-conditioned room wearing his white doctor’s coat. Short and stocky with olive skin and a hooked nose, he looked like a snow penguin as he waddled forward to view the medical airSphere surrounding Bamdar. He rubbed his black stubble and crept to Bamdar’s bed. “Can you see me?”
Bamdar’s voice was croaky. “Of course I can see you, fool.”
He smiled and nodded slightly. “Can you remember who I am?”
“Zedrom.”
He nodded more eagerly. “And who are you?”
“Bamdar. Godfather of the Yiksaan Mafia.”
“Good. Your memory downloaded to your clone successfully, despite the transferral of data being from Inarmuzza’s spaceport.”
Bamdar held out his arms. Various tubes and drips dug into his veins. “When can I get up?”
“We need to run some tests first. Then we can see how well your new body responds to messages from your brain.”
“I have things to do. People to see.”
Zedrom frowned. “You can give orders and contact people from your hospital bed, but getting your body fit enough to carry out normal daily activities could be a slow process.”
Bamdar’s breathing grew louder, and he scowled. “My body feels fine. I could get up now and take a walk.”
“Please, listen, Pak’Bamdar. Your clone has never digested food and never walked. Your new body has been fed through an intravenous drip and had electrical stimulation applied to keep its muscles and joints in working order.”
He growled. “Fine. Are any of my men alive?”
“Your financial advisor, Pak’Lyfee, and your accountant, Alit, are waiting outside. They know more than me.”
“Excellent. Bring them to me. I need an update.”
Zedrom nodded and went to the door.
“Zedrom?”
He whirled around and raised his thick black eyebrows.
“Good job. Thank you.”
Zedrom smiled, bowed slightly, and left.
Not long after, Bamdar’s two faithful helpers walked into his room and entered his airSphere.
Alit’s red face wrinkled with worry, while Pak’Lyfee remained placid.
“How’s it going?” Alit asked. “You look good.”
“I feel good too. But that bloody Zedrom won’t let me get out of bed and on with business.”
Pak’Lyfee placed a light hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get out of bed when the time is right.”
“Where are my other men?”
Pak Lyfee shook his head and sighed. “Many died, and most of the survivors fled and are impossible to contact.”
Sudden nausea followed Bamdar's clenching stomach. “Traitors.”
“I need to get out and get help from my connections. Pull our resources in.”
“I can help with that,” Pak Lyfee said. “Everyone thinks you’re on the way to one of Tushing’s moon prisons. You’re a free man once you’re able to go about your daily business again.”
Alit nodded, then frowned. “Won’t you need plastic surgery before you show your face in public?”
Bamdar pinched the skin at his throat. “Bloody Hell. I’d forgotten about that. Where are we, anyway?”
“Your underground hideout beneath the tea plantations between Rajka and Penkarang,” Alit said.
“So, the embryos are still good?”
“Undiscovered and well,” Pak’Lyfee said.
“Good.”
“D’you remember what happened?” Alit asked.
“Yes. Everything. You know who caused the chaos?”
Alit’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.
“Aedre,” Bamdar said.
Pak’Lyfee frowned as his pink eyes looked up to search his brain. “The redhead in the labour camp?”
“She got out.”
“And came here?” Alit asked.
“Somehow, she took over my body and got Jess to deactivate every woman’s detonation device.”
Pak’Lyfee pursed his lips and exchanged looks with Alit.
“I know you don’t believe me, but quite frankly, I don’t give a fuck. But I want her brought here alive. I must know her secret.”
“Can’t you put a drone on her?” Alit asked. “The fire destroyed most of them, but you’ve got a stash of drones here.”
“She knows what my drones look like. Never managed to copy nano drones used by the MSS, did we?”
“No.” Pak’Lyfee ran a hand through his peach-coloured hair. “How’re you gonna get information from her? Torture?”
Bamdar chuckled. “Threaten her family. Find out who they are. I know they live in Enderland’s Oxfire, where her father works at their most prestigious Hi-Tec.”
Pak Lyfee smirked. “Shall I contact your Nerthling connection?”
“Good idea. But gather information first, then get the contact to tag poison drones to her parents and siblings.”
“Will she believe you?” Alit asked.
“Yes. I used that method to murder Aedre's friends and former boss.”
***
A month after rehabilitation, Bamdar awoke from plastic surgery. His arms and hands were cherry-red and hairless—enough to indicate his new ethnicity was Native-Red.
When Zedrom handed him a mirror, Bamdar rubbed his forehead. “You could’ve at least given me some hair!”
Zedrom froze, speechless, then found his voice. “Sorry, Pak’Bamdar. It was too difficult to give you a Native-Red’s hair type. It wouldn’t grow in patterns, you see, and while you’d have the option to dye it stripy or with spots, the plastic surgeon and I agreed it would be too troublesome.”
“I have people to do these things for me.”
Zedrom cleared his throat and shifted his gaze around the room, then looked at Bamdar. “Native-Reds would become suspic
ious if your roots were dark in the light places. We didn’t think you’d have the patience to have your hair bleached once every few days.”
“What will women think of a bald man?”
“You’re still rich. Hair is of no concern.”
“My gold teeth are gone.” At least the white ones were straight and bright.
“If you want to hide in the crowd, gold teeth are the wrong way to do it. You don’t want the police to know who you are anymore, do you?”
“No. I’ll need a new identity before I cooperate with them again. At least I look young.”
Zedrom smiled, a rare expression on his gaunt face. “You look half your age. All the young women will like you.”
Bamdar’s heart thudded. Maybe he could get into Aedre’s good books, then find out how she did it.
“We performed electrolysis on the whole of your body, leaving your pubic region.”
“Good. Native-Reds don’t have patterned pubes?”
“Apparently not.”
“I’ve been with enough Native-Red whores, but I like them waxed.”
Zedrom blushed and looked away.
No one would know he was Bamdar. It would be fun to think up a new identity with the help of Pak’Lyfee and Alit. He’d miss his gold teeth, but his nose had been shaven down nicely, and his eyes were now narrow and mysterious. If he worked out more, he could lose some lard around his belly.
Perhaps he could play Aedre—befriend her, shag her, and get her to fall in love with him. Keep the poison drones on her family for safe measure. But get her to trust him. Then he’d kill two birds with one stone—fulfil his fantasy and discover how the hell she’d taken over his body and caused the android rebellion.
That would be even better than YuFang’s bio-weaponry.
***
The next day, after a workout in his private gym, Bamdar demanded a meeting with Alit, Pak’Lyfee, and Zedrom.
The three sat across from him, cradling their coffees. If he couldn’t drink alcohol for six months, they couldn’t in his presence either.
He crossed his legs and leaned back in his swivel chair. “Zedrom. You can begin.”
“This’ll be short. I’m delighted with your state of health and am honestly quite surprised by how well your new body has taken to exercise and handled digestive issues. If you don’t mind me asking in front of your men, have you produced any stools today?”
Bamdar arched an eyebrow. “What?”
Alit giggled behind his hand. “I think he’s asking if you’ve taken a dump.”
Bamdar’s face heated, and he stared at Zedrom. “I don’t wish to discuss that.”
“But it’s crucial because—”
Bamdar slammed his hand on the desk. “I said I don’t wanna talk about it! I’m the Godfather of the Yiksaan, not some, damn, I dunno.” He waved the back of his hand. “Get outta here.”
He cut his eyes at Alit, and the Native-Red dropped his hand with his expression.
“Let’s discuss something important.”
Pak’Lyfee leaned forward. “Your artefacts, which were seized by the Mayleedian police, are being held in the vaults at the Mayleedian bank until they can establish ownership. As Artheus is a dead-zone, they may end up in Mayleedian museums.”
“What are my losses?”
Pak’Lyfee blushed and lowered his gaze.
“Come on, then. I can take it.”
“Total losses? Or losses on just your antiques?”
“Just antiques.”
“Seven trillion Inarmuzzan dollars.”
He took a small intake of breath and scratched his jaw. “Are you sure?”
“Afraid so.”
“That’s seven million wandee.”
Pak’Lyfee nodded as he gazed into his coffee.
“Should’ve sold those fucking Satsang relics. The money would’ve done better in one of my off-planet accounts. How about Nerthling androids outside of Rajka?”
“Your containers in Ingan were raided. They’re no longer an asset.”
His shoulder’s tightened, and he sipped his coffee.
Alit and Pak’Lyfee took the opportunity to gulp theirs too.
“Were the sexbots stored in Ingan containers?”
Pak’Lyfee nodded. “Afraid so.”
“I knew I should have sold those fucking androids and sexbots.” He jabbed his finger at Alit. “That was your fault, you incompetent piece of shit.”
Alit’s eyes widened. “What did I do?”
“You need reminding? You suggested I keep them as an investment, even after my good fellow here—Pak’Lyfee, suggested I sell them off before new models came onto the market.”
“That’s right.” Pak Lyfee’s nostrils twitched. “At that time, the value was higher than ever. You would’ve made a lot.”
“Stand up, Alit.”
Alit stood, corners of his mouth drooping. “I’m so sorry, Boss.”
“Do you have any last words?”
“What?” His eyes widened as Bamdar withdrew his vaporising laser gun.
A wet patch appeared in Alit’s trousers, and urine dripped from his ankles. “Please, Boss. No.”
Bamdar pressed the trigger, and Alit’s body vanished in a puff of steam.
Pak’Lyfee’s face remained tranquil and his body rooted to his chair. He nodded. “Very good.”
“I need men I can rely on. I won’t ask how much I lost on my androids and sexbots. It’s all getting too much.” He rubbed his bald head and sniffed. “Let’s talk about Aedre.”
“As you know, we have poison drones on her father and sister, them being her only family members. It appears that at the time of our android rebellion, she was laying down in Haunted River in the pouring rain.”
“I knew this already. That’s how she does it, you see.”
Pak’Lyfee frowned. “But it may be difficult for you to build a relationship with her because it turns out that after your Rajka hideout was demolished, she was found at the river paralysed.”
His eyebrows shot up. “How is she now?”
“Still in the hospital. She has quadriplegia.”
“What’s that?”
“Paralysis from the neck down.”
His stomach hardened, and he held up a hand to wave off the truth. “Ridiculous. How could that happen?”
“There could be several reasons. Sorry.”
He halted his speech to gain control, got up, and walked to the window to peer at the orchard. He’d planned to buy Aedre from the labour camp and take her here to be his woman. But her betrayal had made him so angry. Now that she was paralysed his heart ached. What was it with this woman?
“Shall I leave you alone?” asked Pak’Lyfee.
He whirled around. “Not yet. What hospital’s Aedre in?”
“Abud Hospital. It’s—”
“I know where Abud is. Arrange a hotel for me in Abud. Actually, see if you can bribe for me to stay in the hospital as a fake patient. I still want to befriend her.”
***
He would’ve taken a private jet before the android rebellion, but Aedre had forced him to be frugal. Bitch.
He sighed. The poor girl didn’t deserve paralysis, no one did. Perhaps he could help.
How could he entice the girl? Pretend he was a local who’d inherited his parent’s land? Or pretend he was a Rajannaki Native-Red, so the Giokese wouldn’t suspect him of lying? He looked Rajanakki. The Giokese had smaller bodies and fuller faces. He’d buy a piece of land near Haunted River, so he could watch how she did it.
A tremor went through the departure lounge, and he grabbed a nearby chair to keep from falling. Soon after, an explosion boomed.
Travellers screamed and ran around like headless chickens.
Bamdar held his breath and wiped clammy hands on his trousers. What had happened?
An announcement on the intercom broke his thoughts. “All flights to and from Inarmuzza have been cancelled due to a volcanic eruption in Giok.”
&n
bsp; His tightened facial muscles caused discomfort under new skin. Everything seemed to be against him these days.
Chapter 14*Aedre
Surrounded by the foul odour of volcanic fallout, Aedre fought to breathe as she prepared to visit the crow. “I intend to...”
She hesitated. What about the labourers? Their beach was close to the volcano. She opened her eyes. If they were alive, how could she help them evacuate? How could she go to the deadly north without getting killed?
The stranger who’d had a drone on Apek’s temple returned. Rain bounced off his aurashield as he slipped down the riverbank. “You okay?”
Her gasps came sporadically as her diaphragm refused to listen to the messages her brain tried to send. “Can’t breathe.”
“Got a ventilator?”
She shook her head, hyperventilating.
He gripped her hand. Her breathing came steadily again. “That’s better. Did you get the key?”
She rotated her head to the side, body useless. “No. You found Somare?”
“His son.”
“Gus. He’s gonna round up the villagers?” If only she could sit up. Seemed rude to lie there.
He walked across the stepping stones, switched off the aurashield’s headlight, and crouched next to her. The whites of his eyes looked bright against his black skin and the night. “Yes. Gus is doing that.”
“They’ll take them to the pyramid?”
He nodded. “Gus will. Somare left two hours ago to drive to his labour camp.”
“I’m going there too.”
“But the key—”
“That’ll have to wait.”
“Can you get hurt?”
She nodded. “I became paralysed during my last venture.”
“At the Yiksaan?”
She nodded again. Oh, yes. He’d been following her. “Who are you?”
“There’s no time.”
“Your name?”
“Akachi.”
“I’m Aedre.”
“I know. Listen, Aedre. That labour camp’s probably fucked. Pyroclastic flows could’ve cooked them alive. It’s only twenty miles from the volcano. You need medical help with your breathing.”
Jaw set, Aedre shook her head. “I’m breathing fine now. The labour camp might need my help. I’ll go there first, then get the key.”
