Legacy of Seconds

by Edge O. Erin

  For the first time, he really looked at them… not as female clones or women that happened to be products of the Cheriot Wheel programme, but as women, individuals. Maybe it was because he saw them with greater compassion and empathy, but he could now see how Mary looked older and wiser than the others. In Tiot, he could see youthful exuberance and a fiery spirit and in Cheriot, innocence blighted by pain.

  In a meta-emotional, introspective moment, he realised that his self-view had been distorted, if not delusional. Up to now, he had seen himself as a caretaker, a detached and aloof “Uncle of Clones”, just “doing his best.” But in truth, he had not been doing his best, not even close. He had used past trauma to validate a lack of emotion and empathy, a justification for seeing others as parts more than a sum of parts.

  Ghan, and even MEM/Newvalutionist thinking and propaganda, had clouded his vision to the fact that all life was meaningful.

  He thought he had made so many sacrifices, but in many respects, he had been selfish. Being selectively emotional was all too convenient and reflected an element of narcissism, for it implied he was a judge or arbiter of what deserved his emotions.

  He smiled at the women. “Ladies, we’re going to get you out of here, I promise.”

  He inscribed evaponotes and pressed them into their hands while looking deep into their eyes with a look meant to convey his newfound feelings.

  “Memorise these coordinates; it’s a safe place, an appanage… a gift of land given to another that ultimately became mine but is totally untraceable. There are a cabin and supplies… you will all be safe there.”

  He then sent off a message to the Grand Lady, Hitch, and Keeper.

  “Let’s roll!”

  Lester produced a phantom shade, adding, “Just a little unit I stole. It will cover all of you as we get in the van.”

  Fortunately, it did, and ultimately, they cleared the perimeter without hindrance.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Like most civilian rides, Lester’s delivery launch was governed not to climb higher than twenty feet from the ground, and even that height required a permit and was strictly used for avoidance or clearing accidents.

  They were joined by two MEM vehicles, one in front and one in behind, and were making good time on the way to the disembarkation point arranged by the Grand Lady. But when the Bang Block Enforcement Vehicles, or BEVS, came into view and started to follow them, it was clear they had been found.

  “Damn! How did they get on to us?”

  Lester rubbed his jaw. “Double damn! I should’ve known!”

  “You’re tagged?”

  “I must be… probably done when I was amped-up. It might be on a cellular level.”

  “If that’s the case, there is no shaking them.”

  Jon ordered their private pilot vehicle to tuck in behind their follow vehicle, slow down the pursuit — if possible — and if not impact one of the two BEVs in an “accident.” The pilot personnel were adept at action and avoidance, so even if there was an accident, chances are they would escape.

  A “Good luck guys” was all he could offer them.

  The vehicle dropped back and made as if there were a steering and altitude malfunction. The first BEV hopped up, over and past it, and sped towards them. The second BEV started to do the same, but the pilot vehicle rose under it and snagged its rear end, sending both units into a skid and spin and a collision into a much larger transit bus.

  As the first BEV closed in on them, four military scoot-blades popped out from its belly.

  “Blades are out!”

  “I’ve got this covered.” Lester motioned the women to one side of the van and hit a button on the dash. Aa portion of the floor opened, and an air-scoot emerged.

  “Let me guess. You tricked that out?”

  “Yeppers, and it’s time for me to say goodbye.”

  “Why goodbye?”

  “Because I’m tagged. If I’m with you, Mary, umm, you’re all hooped.”

  Lester looked at Mary, “And Mary, I can’t let them get you again. I failed the first time at the restaurant… you remember?”

  Mary looked at him curiously, and then recognition came to her face, “You were that guy!”

  “Yes, and I’ve always loved you.”

  “Owww…kay.”

  Lester moved to her and planted a big one on her lips, and she made it last a second longer for him as she pulled him close.

  “Go get’ em tiger!” She slapped him on the backside.

  He never saw Lester so happy.

  “See ya, Daco!”

  “Good luck Lester… I am proud of you.”

  “Ah, shucks… first a kiss from Mary and now this. Very cool! Anyway, watch this, Jon!”

  Lester pulled out a small handgun, hopped on his ride, and flew out the back.

  Immediately Lester moved to a collision course with one of the blades. Just before impact, he tipped the nose of his scoot up, hopped off, and his air-scoot collided with the man on the blade. Lester had timed it perfectly and landed on the man on the adjoining blade. He dispatched that one with a knife.

  Just as the third blade turned to him, he unleashed a burst of fire and crippled it and its rider. The final blade-operator swung wide and pulled off his helmet. It was Commander Baturu-Heim.

  Lester pulled up and zig-zagged back and forth. He was buying them time. Now, he raced towards Jop. As the two machines were coming together, Jop ejected the front tip of his blade, and it caught Lester in the chest, sending him flying to the ground.

  He got up staggering. Jop flew by him and sliced Lester in half with the side fin of his blade. It had been horrible to witness and how he wished they could’ve saved him, or that he was saveable, but it was not to be. He regretted doubting Lester. If they made it, they would always be in his debt.

  With all blades out of commission, Jop had to wait for the BEV to pick him up again; Lester had bought them precious time.

  Jon told Tiler to land, and he hopped in the backup vehicle. In departing, he told the driver to go as fast as possible to the rendezvous point and stop for nothing. With Lester gone, they wouldn’t be tracked, and additional flight support probably wouldn’t be launched in time to get them.

  He quickly enabled all the explosive charges and sent the other men out of the vehicle. Overriding the elevation regulator, he brought the vehicle sharply up and around and plunged towards the BEV. Too late, the BEV recognised his desperate move. He jettisoned and detonated the explosives just before impact. The explosives had the desired effect, and the impact was catastrophic.

  ***

  Jon knew he had been knocked out, but for how long? He moved and felt excruciating pain in his shoulder; it was busted or separated or both. He put his hand up to his head, and his hair was caked with blood. It was hot and smoky… and his pants were on fire. He screamed as he wriggled out of them, leaving patches of his skin behind. He tried to get to a crouch, but his ankle gave way, and he fell over. His ankle was broken. The vehicle was upside down and smashed, but there was enough room to squeeze out the side door. He used his one good arm to pull himself out. EMS personnel had just arrived and were trying to attend to a badly burned man standing thirty feet away from him. It was Jop.

  Jon grabbed onto a light standard to stand and face him. He didn’t have a weapon, but there was a twisted piece of metal beside him that he picked up, but he was uncertain what he could even do with it. Jop somehow spotted him through the burned mask that was his face and pushing the two medics away from him, he pulled a pistol out of his pants and aimed it as he stumbled forward.

  Jon lifted the twisted piece of metal, and it deflected the blow but made the metal so hot he couldn’t hold it in his hands.

  Jop walked closer, and despite appeals from another security officer not to shoot, he levelled his weapon.

  So, this was how it was going to end… There was a flash of light and no more.

  ***

  It was damn itchy under the bandages,
but he was alive. Think you can take Jop down? Think again! And as sure as God made little dog-turds, he would catch those bunch of cruxers. He managed a painful grin and took a bit of a chew, which also hurt, but was so worth it. He had already said no to complete facial reconstructive surgery; leaving some of the scars would make him look that much tougher and intimidating.

  He had already been named as Vetch’s replacement. Beyond that, the leadership of MESI’s Intelligence Service, the GIA, stood within reach as current and former PEDE security chiefs were often chosen for that position.

  He sat there daydreaming until a painful sensation passed through his member. What the! There it was again, only this time it made him spasm and grab his crotch. The swift action also caused his bandaged burns to throb mightily. Had he burned his thing a little somehow and not noticed it due to all the other more severe injuries and related pain? He pulled down his shorts and examined himself; he couldn’t see anything wrong.

  “You had me worried there, Brute!” He hawked up his shorts and was about to think more of what it would take to become GIA’s alpha male when he got another pain in his precious.

  “Goddamn it, that hurts!” His nurse, a dour-looking woman, staying in his spare room, both heard and noticed him.

  “Problem with the sprinkler, Mr Jop? Shall I have a look?”

  “Hell no! Brute, I mean, it will be fine!”

  He ate his words a second later when a spasm of pain again made him afraid for his penis.

  “Okay, best you take a look, but be damn careful, and don’t be thinking about any other business!”

  “Trust me, I’ve seen’ em all, so lose the knickers.”

  She grabbed it about as delicate as a sausage ready for the pan. Down on her knees and craning her neck, she suddenly jerked back from it. “Goddess, you’ve got something in there!”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “Let me have another look.”

  “Oh, for Goddess’ sake, should I call a doctor or what?”

  “Give me another look,” she said sternly.

  He let her grab it again and look it over.

  “Okay, I see some unusual discolouration, we…”

  Another spasm hit him; only this time, she had not let go, and he was almost as disgusted by the fact that they both now had their hands on it and that he too could feel something moving inside of him.

  “Is it a bug of some sort? Get the damn thing out of me!”

  “I will get a doctor up here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Amongst their many losses, none hit harder than Bien; that was, until Jon died. Jon should’ve been here to see this, but he took some solace in knowing that he could probably see it from another dimension. He lacked Bien’s faith and Jon’s vision, but his resolve was unchallenged.

  Remoting into Jon’s home system, he opened the revival application, verified the parameters and, with hope and apprehension, hit “Execute”.

  Gert wanted to know what he was doing, but he decided to keep as much of the cloning project as they could away from him. As brilliant as the boy was, he had to remain focused on his studies. Moreover, he cared for the boy enough not to subject him to all the wickedness in the world.

  Five minutes later, prayers were answered, and he and Hitch downloaded MESI’s new “recommended” file from the Ghan Garden Estate.

  The microbot’s collective viewer didn’t have the highest resolution, but the Ghan medical insignia on the walls and headboard were distinguishable. The camera navigated and zoomed in on the face of the individual in the bed. It was Mariot. No, neither her hair nor makeup was done, and she was very pale, but it was clearly Mariot, the real Mariot. She took a sharp breath, her chin and eyebrows raised, and then there was another more substantial intake of air, and her eyelids fluttered to open. She flinched, and one eye opened partway. Her mouth opened slightly, and a “Cla-air” emerged. With an effort that must’ve been extraordinary, she tried to bring her hand to her face, but tethers prevented it. Both her eyes opened then, and there was no doubt Mariot was awake and alive. A middle-aged woman rushed up to her… it was her mother.

  The video ended, but it was now worldwide.

  ***

  It was an unusually lovely afternoon. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t so hot that the garbage in the gutters or stranded at high tide was stinking. Even the harbour was relatively clear of refuse, and a small pod of dolphins could be seen gathering some mackerel.

  They were holding hands like children discovering love.

  “Another five minutes,” was his response to her as to how long they had.

  She squeezed his hand harder, and he wiped a tear from her cheek, then from the edges of his own eyes. Life was hard; love could be harder.

  “They will be safe, right?”

  “Oh yes, safe as a sunfish at two-thousand feet.”

  “You and your fishy metaphors… but I take that as a positive.”

  A kiss on her temple was reassurance enough.

  They passed the next few minutes in a silence that was as precious to him as the Water Book.

  “It’s time to go.”

  He pulled a bag of tea from out of his pocket for her.

  She accepted it and, from her pocket, produced a small, but exquisite figurine thought long lost to the Bajausy.

  It was enough to demonstrate what they had always had and would ever have.

  ***

  After Scorp’s hanging, the riots in the capital had only grown worse and spread to other regions. The world was spasming from a myriad of self-inflicted wounds, and pro-Prometerians used the opportunity to accelerate the entire project, including getting the requisite personnel into the Biodome. Goddess-worship found a new focus in Prometer, and many programmes were curtailed or cut to ensure the mission would succeed. The public was inundated with information and misinformation, and every kind of “ation” necessary to focus attention on “The Greater Good”. The Ghans were masters of propaganda, and the World Government still had the wherewithal to impact public sentiment.

  Pre-mission quarters and meeting rooms were resplendent, though not for a loss of function. To its prominent denizens, excess became anticipated, and Abigailius, Riot, and Wezer wallowed in its wake. Yes, there were meetings, but they were specific to Prometer. To all intents and purposes, the Biodome orbited about Prometer. Beyond the materials she provided, Earth no longer mattered. From Menhancer to Microbiologist and Wakee to Minister, the countdown to departure was on.

  ***

  Being found guilty in the court of public opinion, and under pressure from Kelline and Wade Ghan, all impediments to Mariot’s awakening were removed. Claire and Cooper were both absolved of any guilt on the condition they would no longer participate in actions against Ghans and Government.

  Kelline and Wade Ghan both took halting steps forward until Claire raised her hand and arm outward.

  “I’m not ready for that just yet.”

  “But Spica…” her mother pleaded.

  “I’m Claire… Mariot always called me that. Spica vanished a long time ago.”

  “You will always be Spica to us.”

  An awkward silence ensued, and Cooper stepped up.

  “Look, this is uncomfortable for all concerned. But we have to set resentment and other negative feelings aside for Mariot and show her unity in there.” Copper leaned his head towards the room where Mariot was lying.

  Claire’s parents collectively opined a “Yes,” and Claire put her arm around Cooper in full support and quiet agreement.

  “Shall we?” Cooper motioned towards the door, and subsequently, they all entered the room.

  As Claire approached the bed, Mariot’s eyelids opened a little and, like closet doors too long neglected, jammed up. The effort to open them again was tangible, but the lady persisted. The nurse intuitively added some eye drops. There was the struggle to activate long-unused muscles, and this time her eyes opened fully, albeit for just a second
.

  “Am…,” a weak cough and a hard swallow. The nurse slipped a nozzle into her mouth, and instinctively she drank.

  “Claire, is that you?”

  Claire squeezed her hand, “Yes, sis, it’s me. I love you.”

  Mariot turned her head and eyes towards her.

  “You’re not a… little kid any more.”

  “No, not even close.” She smiled and placed her hand on Mariot’s head and brushed some hair away from her eyes.

  “How long have I been like this?”

  “You were in an accident, remember… you’ve been in a coma for thirteen years.”

  “Wait, how many years?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Thirteen as in ‘one’ and ‘three?’”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my Goddess!”

  Now Mariot could see well enough to make out Cooper and her parents.

  “Mom and Dad?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Her mom moved swiftly over to her, and Claire gave her a bit of room.

  Claire’s mom started to cry, and her father put his hand on Mariot’s head, just on top of Claire’s. It was a relatively close thing, but not yet a family moment. Those days would come…

  Chapter Thirty

  She had learned of the plan for a surrogate from unofficial channels. She was already plotting how to rid herself of that would-be challenger when word came in that Cheriot, Mary, and Tiot had been sprung from the CV-and-V facility, and a woman-hunt was underway. Her attempts to reach the Grace was met with “Transmission not permitted at this time,” and none of the Minister of MESI, PEDE, or the Special Liaison had returned her enquiries. At this point, she wondered if her stasis chamber might just be a coffin. No, no, they needed her for in no way could Wezer and Abigailius handle it all. She resolved to make Prometer hers.