The Lost Voice

by V. St. Clair

  Jessamine acknowledged this with a tilt of her chin but replied, “After the stabbing but prior to death, the victim got a trans-nasal injection of bleeders.” She looked sickened and he could feel Hera tense beside him.

  “What the hell are bleeders?” Maxton blurted out.

  It was Hera who answered.

  “Bleeders are a nearly-incurable strain of bacteria. Their duplicate helical-flagella and hook-configuration allow—”

  “Less technical, more practical,” Max interjected.

  “They eat certain types of tissue. Brain tissue, to be exact,” Jessamine explained. “If they can cross the blood-brain barrier, they’ll rapidly multiply and devour brain tissue until they’ve consumed everything and die out. They can liquefy a brain in an hour and a half.”

  Max’s eyes widened in astonishment.

  “How am I just now hearing about this? Shouldn’t it be big news if there’s a superbug out there that eats brains and can spread from person to person?”

  “It’s actually been around for almost seventy-five years,” Jessamine explained. “And it’s not contagious, fortunately. Even if it got into your bloodstream, the body’s natural defenses would annihilate it rapidly. The only place it can thrive and grow is within the brain itself, which is why it has to be injected directly into the brain, usually via the nose.”

  “If I recall, the bleeders were genetically engineered by the military as a bioweapon,” Hera added smoothly.

  “Yes,” Jessamine admitted. “They were often used as a threat in uncooperative interrogations of confirmed terrorists. Since it is a particularly horrible way to die and ensures no possibility of revival, it was usually an effective threat. It hasn’t been used in over forty years, when my grandmother banned it towards the end of her reign, with good reason.”

  “I assume you still have stores of it in the Augenspire,” Hera added.

  “My father had most of the bioweapons lockers destroyed two decades ago, but we do still have some samples in our bio-labs.”

  “Does anyone else have that stuff stored around somewhere?” Maxton asked.

  “Not that we can think of.”

  “So the sample had to come from within the Augenspire.”

  Jessamine said, “It stands to reason, yes. The autopsy is still underway, but it will likely also confirm the delivery method to be consistent with the rings the military interrogators used to use.”

  “Rings?” Max asked, confused.

  “The twin needles contaminated with bleeders were attached to metal rings, which were fused together and could be slipped on over a gloved hand.” She held up her own hand and gestured with her two middle fingers. “The needles stick out, so an attacker would punch upward into the nose of the victim, puncturing the brain and depositing the bleeders.”

  “And who usually wore those horrible death-rings?”

  “In the old days, the Provo-Major, though it’s possible someone else could get their hands on the old rings.” Jessamine scowled. “So you can see my problem.”

  Hera frowned and said, “It seems you are not yet finished weeding out traitors from your highest levels of government. I still fail to see how I factor into this.”

  “Do you know any Gifted who would be able to help pinpoint who did this? Anyone who can read memories from an object—like an emblem—or someone who can detect guilt?” She sounded frustrated. “I don’t know the full list of all possible Gifts, or if what I’m asking for is too vague, but I don’t want to take this to the Minors because I don’t know who to trust. Right now, only a very few people know about this entire mess at all, and I want to keep it that way.”

  “Hmm.” Hera thought for a moment. “About the best I can offer is someone who can get impressions from others. His name is Ryker, and if he touches another person he can get a general sense of what they are feeling or thinking.”

  Maxton raised his eyebrows at that.

  “Would he need to touch the actual body?” Jessamine asked. “It could be arranged if it was absolutely necessary, but sneaking a Gifted into the Augenspire without most of my people knowing about it will take some effort.”

  “It seems to work on belongings as well, as long as they are very closely connected to the person they belong to. You said they were Gifted. An emblem is very much bonded to the owner, so if you have those–”

  “I do. It sounds like the best lead we have right now. Are you able to accommodate a group at your house tonight? I don’t want to do this here, for obvious reasons, and Ryker would probably be more comfortable in an environment the government doesn’t control.”

  “Yes, I can accommodate. How many people will you be bringing? The less Ryker knows about what is going on, the better.”

  “There’s truth in that.” Jessamine sighed. “I’ll make it myself, Topher, and Reya. Is seven o’clock okay?”

  “That will be fine.”

  “Good. I’ll see you at seven.” Jessamine cut the comm.

  Maxton and Hera exchanged a look.

  “Well, on the bright side, I’m free. On the down side, my people are being murdered at random on the streets—it is at random, isn’t it? We should have asked her if there was any connection between the two Gifted. Damn, I hope it’s no one I know.”

  Hera exhaled and said, “At least she appears to be honoring her commitments and taking her role as a leader seriously.” A pause, and then, “She’s already made more progress than her father did over the last decade.”

  “Mind if I borrow your comm one last time?”

  Hera looked suspicious.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Ana. I want to ask her out on a date,” he explained with perfect sincerity.

  Hera looked slightly bemused, as though it hadn’t occurred to her that people would still do normal things like go on dates during a time like this. Finally, she said, “Alright,” and handed it to him before departing the room.

  Max punched in her comm code and took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists to work out some of his nervous energy. He thought things were going well with them, but he was about to find out for certain.

  Ana answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hey, I’m about to head to practi—Max, hi.”

  “Hey Ana, sorry to bother you during the school day, but do you want to go out to dinner with me tonight?”

  Ana arched an eyebrow and glanced behind her as though to ensure she was really alone.

  “Uh, is this a joke? Have you forgotten about the arrest warrants against you, or do you have a death wish?”

  “Sorry, I should’ve mentioned it first.” Max grinned. “Great news. The Vicereine called to let me know my record has been officially cleared, so I’m coming back to the Academy and everything gets to be normal again. Well, more normal, at least. For me, anyway.” Max realized he was rambling and closed his mouth.

  “Really?” Ana looked pleased, her lips pulling into a lopsided smile. “That’s great news! I wondered if she would get around to clearing your name. It was the right thing to do. So you’re allowed to leave the house now?”

  “Yes, and I want to celebrate. I need a new communicator, I need to enroll into the Academy again, and then I want to take you to dinner.”

  “I think I can be free tonight,” she smiled. “When you get your new comm, send me details of when and where to meet you.”

  “I’ll find somewhere cheap, since I’ve been off the grid for a while and I haven’t been able to make any money.”

  “I’ll treat. It’s a celebration, after all.” Ana winked at him before adding, “I don’t want to be late for practicum or my snake of a coach will have me choked unconscious again.”

  She made a slicing gesture with her thumb across her throat before cutting the call without saying goodbye, but Maxton was too happy to care. He could finally leave the house, he was getting a comm so he could connect with the world again, and he had a date tonight with a woman who had all the grace of a chainsaw.<
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  With my luck I’ll get murdered by the rogue members of the Provo-Major as soon as I step outside.

  He shuddered and dismissed the thought, bidding goodbye to Hera for the day and finally taking his first steps outdoors as a free man, though he couldn’t resist the urge to glance around to make sure no one was waiting to arrest him.

  He boarded a bus and rode it to the nearest communications terminal, standing in line to apply for his new communicator and secretly praying there wasn’t a mix-up with the paperwork that was going to land him back in prison.

  Calm down. If Jessamine says you’re clear, then you’re clear.

  Unless one of her enemies gets a hold of you first…

  The man in front of him was applying to swap out his communicator for a new one, as the model was obsolete and no longer serviceable. Max looked around surreptitiously, paranoid about being attacked by unknown government assassins. He wished he hadn’t been there to hear Jessamine’s conversation with Hera, because now he would be on edge any time he was out in the city until the murderer was discovered, especially considering what Risa told him about being chased the other night.

  Damn! We should have told the Vicereine about that! He could have slapped himself for not thinking of it, but perhaps Hera had already informed her or Topher after it happened. Given that Gifted were now being murdered, perhaps she had narrowly escaped being victim number one.

  “Problem with your comm?” the communications official at the front desk asked when it was Max’s turn to be helped.

  “No, I just need a new one.”

  “Exchanging an old device?” the man asked.

  “No, the old one was taken from me by the Augenspire in error, and I was told to get another.”

  The man looked slightly alarmed now, taking in the sight of Max’s emblem with a raised eyebrow.

  “The Augenspire? Scan your biochip,” he insisted, his right hand edging dangerously towards the underside of the desk while his left hovered over his computer terminal. Max suspected there was either a weapon or a call button under the desk.

  He sighed and scanned his biochip at the reader, holding his breath and hoping for good news.

  “Ah,” the officer said, his posture relaxing. “I see you have been pardoned by—good lord, the Vicereine herself. Your records were accessed and amended three hours ago and appear to be in order.”

  He reached into a drawer of his desk and extracted a shiny new communicator, scanning the chip into his computer system and linking it with Max’s credentials.

  “This should sync up with your data slot in the next minute or two, so anything you had or used on your old device will clone onto this one. The same standard rules apply to all government-issued devices, so you may not attempt to use this device for any anti-government activity. You should also know that at any time, if the government has a probable-cause warrant against you for suspected illicit activity, your search histories, calls, and texts may be monitored with or without your consent. Any attempts to sell your device or exchange it with another person, unless done so by an authorized government official, is punishable by a five-year prison sentence.”

  “Who would sell their device, anyway?” Max asked conversationally. “I mean, they’re free, so I don’t really see the market for it.”

  The man shrugged, and Max signed to indicate he understood the rules before accepting his new comm.

  By the time he boarded the next bus his device had finished synchronizing, and it was like he had never been away from it. All his favorites were there, his search histories were intact, and his contact lists were imported in.

  For all the things the government does wrong, the Right to Information Act was something they got right.

  His next stop was the Academy to re-enroll in his classes, and to get his dorm room set up again. The woman at the housing office seemed surprised to see him.

  “Maxton Mercuria. I’m glad to see you made it through your troubles in one piece.” She greeted him with a genuine smile.

  “Uh, thanks. Do I know you?”

  “No, but your face was all over the posters and the web for weeks. Did they really have you in the top-level prison at the Augenspire?” she asked with avid curiosity, leaning towards him.

  Not sure how much he was supposed to say about it, Max shrugged and said, “You know how these things get inflated in the retelling. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as you think.”

  It was about fifty times more exciting than you think and I hope to never go through any of it again.

  “Oh, well, yeah that’s probably true. Anyway, are you here to get your room back and apply for basic care?”

  “I am.”

  He scanned his biochip whenever she asked him to and signed a number of forms while she talked.

  “Do you need basic medical or only the meal plan?”

  “Both, please.”

  “Alright, well you probably know all of this but I’m required to go over it anyway for you. The meal plan has been loaded to your biochip and will be accepted at any location on Elaria with the designated AMP insignia on their entrance. Individual food and beverage items may or may not be covered, so be sure to ask an appropriate serviceperson when in doubt. The AMP covers three meals per day plus associated beverages.”

  Maxton knew all of this already, and signed off on the pad saying he understood the rules.

  “The medical plan will provide full coverage for all basic and essential medical care at any participating facility. The plan excludes elective care, such as cosmetic enhancements—unless deemed medically necessary—and any other elective-but-nonessential care. A list of participating facilities in Silveria can be found on the Augenspire’s homepage, and all participating hospitals and clinics will have the ACP logo prominently displayed at the front entrance. Any care you wish to receive at a non-participating hospital will need to be paid for out-of-pocket.”

  “No swanky hospitals for me; got it.” Max signed the pad once more, and just like that he had his whole life back.

  He walked back to his old dormitory to find his things exactly where he’d left them. It felt strange being back in the Academy after all this time, as though the last few months had never happened.

  He spent the remainder of the afternoon getting settled and figuring out what to wear for his date, eventually remembering to send Ana the details. He decided to stick with something casual, since Ana never seemed to dress up, preferring a more natural aesthetic.

  By the time he got to the restaurant he was sweating nervously, checking and double-checking to make sure he was in the right place, even though he had made the selection. It was a fairly inexpensive location, specializing in different soup and sandwich combinations, but since it wasn’t an AMP-covered restaurant and she was buying he wanted to keep it as inexpensive as possible.

  Ana walked in wearing a tailored pair of cream-colored pants and sleek black boots to match her gauzy blouse. It was the nicest outfit Max had ever seen her in, and he felt like an under-dressed idiot by comparison.

  She caught sight of him and moved to join him at the table, clomping gracelessly and scowling at herself when she almost fell.

  “You didn’t tell me we were wearing old t-shirts and jeans,” she greeted him, propping her hands on her hips.

  “I know you don’t like dressing up so I thought you’d want to look casual and I tried to match…”

  “Well I know you like preppy clothing, so I was sure you’d be in your finest and didn’t want to look like a slob beside you,” she said in exasperation.

  Both of them laughed.

  “Well, you were successful, because now I look like the slob.” He grinned and gestured for her to sit down.

  “I just wish I’d worn normal shoes,” Ana moaned. “Whoever invented high-heeled boots should be beaten to death with one of them.”

  Maxton grinned wickedly.

  “Don’t worry, you’re equally graceful no matter what shoes you’re wearing.”
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  She threw a napkin at him.

  “I’ve never been dainty.”

  “I actually like that about you,” he replied, eliciting an amused eye-roll from his partner.

  “Are you all set up at the Academy again?”

  “Yeah, I got my old room back and all my government stuff reissued. It’s really weird, because it’s like nothing ever changed, but there’s this several-months-long gap missing out of my normal life.”

  “I can imagine.” Ana grimaced sympathetically. “It must feel good to get out of your friend’s mom’s house though. That place can be dead-depressing sometimes.”

  Calling Topher a friend was a bit of a stretch for Max, but she could hardly use Hera’s codename in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

  “Yeah, next time I’m a fugitive of the law I’m going to find somewhere more low-key to hide out.”

  Ana snorted, her cheeks reddening at the noise.

  “We’ll have to find a new way to stay in the loop. A lot of important people keep showing up at her house, and you used to be my main source of information about what’s going on, but now we’ll both need to think of another way to stay involved.”

  “On that note, remind me to tell you the latest update from this afternoon sometime when we’re alone.” He would definitely need to tell her to watch her back when she was traveling alone in the city if there was a high-ranking killer on the loose.

  “Will do. Now, tell me, should I get the cream khish or the herb garden soup?”

  “That depends. Do you want to feel like you just ate a mouthful of weeds?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then go with the khish.”

  “Khish it is.” Ana folded her menu decisively and returned it to the slot on the table. “So is this a date-date or just a celebration-of-freedom date?”

  Max raised his eyebrows in surprise at the forward question.

  “The former, unless that isn’t what you want, and then definitely the latter.”

  Ana laughed.

  “Date-date it is. On our next one, we definitely need to plan the dress-code before we go out.”