Hunter turned around and sprinted away, stooping over and vomiting. Ayzize resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and Sylvia ran over to Hunter while he tried to wave her off. Switching off the holo in case the teenager looked back, Ayzize turned to Mateo, who still looked pale.
“Those… things…” Mateo’s face contorted into a horrified grimace. “Dr. Renard didn’t deserve that.”
“XIKs are mindless and the vast majority of their victims are undeserving of their fate.” If Ayzize hadn’t repeated those same words countless times over countless planets, his emotions might have gotten the better of him. “There is a sign by the clinic entrance that also ensures microorganisms cannot spread outside of its perimeter, so it is no danger to you… for now. It is battery powered and will last a month if the Biohazard team is delayed, but I am requesting for their immediate departure. Hunter, I assume,” he glanced back to the man in question, who kept shooing his daughter to stay away, “will get word of when, but current ETA is forty-eight hours.”
“Our time, or…?” Mateo asked, shifting. Human standard time remained according to Earth’s orbit, even if they stood on a planet forty-six thousand light years away from the homeworld.
“Just about.” Give or take an hour for Endeavor’s slightly shorter orbit. “As my questions have been answered, I’m taking my leave. Do not let anyone go near there,” he warned Mateo, who shook his head rapidly. “In the very unlikely event that it shuts off before it is supposed to, the virus can transfer through fluids.” Granted, someone would need to touch the blood or organs and then touch an orifice, but there were plenty of idiots in the galaxy. “Have a good evening.”
He passed Mateo, who gaped between him and the clinic, and even as he reached the outskirts of the dimly lit town, Ayzize could still hear the short gasps that Hunter made in-between retching. For once, he felt grateful for a second objective to immediately depart for. Babysitting and keeping temperamental people calm for long never appealed to him.
∆∆∆
Hover cars zoomed down the littered street, metal bottles flying up and smacking pedestrian’s legs if they didn’t jump out of the way fast enough. Dirty skyscrapers, corroding under the hot sun, feebly scratched the sky, casting stout shadows on inhabitants unlucky enough to not own a hover car. As opposed to the clean air in the agricultural-dedicated Neufan continent, Lexia City in the Meribi continent smelled of grime, smog, and a lot of dirty and sweaty people. Most urban areas on colony planets further away from the homeworld regressed and relied on a mixture of fossil fuels and solar power, since Earth and Yuri always received the most from the Human United Republics’ budget. Ayzize’s friend, an Aphin Selyn named Cochis Sehua, joked that if he ever wanted to see what Earth’s earlier days looked like, then he would come to Endeavor and Wayward. Personally, Ayzize counted himself lucky he grew up in the clean and advanced metropolises of Earth rather than the dirty and technologically challenged colonies.
Lexia contrasted the different classes on Endeavor with the surface holding the poor and working class, while the subterranean held the blue collar and new bourgeois offices and residences. Entrances to “Nouveaux Lexia” were outside the city where, Ayzize believed, the rich wouldn’t have to mingle with the poor. He disliked coming to this city as often as he had to, though there were one or two perks.
Finding an apprentice was not one of them. Though his organization had transitioned into additional services beyond XIK combat and viral protection nearly three centuries ago, they remained a mercenary company. Security Detail, Financial Services, Risk Consultation, and Biological Research were the most lucrative and legal activities, thus they could hire veterans and other adults with experience. However, Varôk—or XIK combatants—needed to be selected before adolescence or otherwise the DNA splicing they would undergo would not be as effective. Exceptions had been made, but until the virus was fully eradicated, Raxdrýn would continue to recruit pre-adolescent children. And unfortunately, despite what the Galaxy overall believed, the virus was not declining.
After several minutes of weaving past other pedestrians, Ayzize made it to the small transportation hub in the center of the city, getting in line with other people—all human—to scan their tickets to their wrist bands. Instead of a holo or AR program to purchase from, an unpolished metal robot filled in as the ticket master, its joints grinding loudly every time it twitched.
“Destination,” the robot asked in monotone, its grimy face lacking any form of personality.
“Beir,” Ayzize stated, keeping his face straight. The robot widened its eyes, a horizontal beam flashing from its retinas and scanning his face. The robot looked down, seeking to scan his wristband, but since Ayzize had a universal chip imbedded in his skin, offered his bare wrist. The robot scanned his wrist and made a sound similar to an old computer fizzing out.
“Error,” the robot said. “If you have upgraded GA tech within six months, this unit will not recognize the software. Please step aside while a manager processes you. Have a nice day.”
This is why I hate backwoods planets, Ayzize scowled as he did what it instructed. Some curious people behind him stared at his bare wrist in wonderment. This wasn’t the first time a ticket-master bot malfunctioned, and it wouldn’t be the last.
A bored teenager came over to the ticket booth five minutes later, wearing a disheveled uniform and the company hat sideways. While uninterested in chatting—which suited Ayzize just fine—the girl tied back her long brown hair and told the line to wait a few minutes while she manually updated the robot’s software. She seemed unfazed at the adults in the line yelling at her they had been waiting for a long time and needed to get somewhere fast. They continued to insult her as she ignored them, opening the back of the robot and fiddling with some hardware. A few minutes later she closed the robot’s access panel and told the line that they could get tickets, with the adults huffing rudely and complaining that they wanted discounts.
Walking to Ayzize, the teenager held up a scanner, gesturing for him to hold up his wrist. Scanning it, the device beeped, and she motioned for him to put his arm down.
“You should be good now,” she said, looking apathetic while the adults still cast her dirty looks.
Ayzize pulled the shirt sleeve down to cover his wrist. “Thank you.”
She waved him off as they both departed, though he heard her mutter, “Least he wasn’t an asshole.”
Navigating the dirty terminals that matched Lexia’s exterior, he found the mag-train that included Beir as a stop. Several dozen humans grabbed items food vendors sold on the platform, and Ayzize ignored the calls of the owners enticing him with their cooking. He did not trust Lexia’s food, since the first time he ate here after a job nearly four years ago, he ended up with food poisoning. Fortunately, several stations away in a clean town named Valen, a kind Doctor had found him curled up pitifully on the station bench and had taken him to her clinic, curing his ailment with Medpsy within minutes. She hadn’t even charged him for her services, saying that she traded it for his own.
“For what?” he had asked while sitting on the exam table, apprehensively waiting for an uncomfortable gurgle or nausea to come rushing back. “I didn’t do anything.”
The Doctor had turned to him from her holo display, her smile reaching to her brown eyes, her dark hair tied back. “Your iris’ are too large and have white flecks in them, and you pulse with a certain… energy that is barely there. I studied for a decade with the Iaiedal, and I recognize signs of gene splicing with Iaiedal DNA when I see and feel it. You’re a Varôk.”
“How would you know that I wasn’t lying if I said I was?” He had frowned as he slid off the table, not asking for her permission.
“Seen you before,” she had said in a cheery voice. She had maintained a smile, not at all disconcerted by his profession.
He had scoffed. “On the news?” He had remembered no cameras outside the warehouse complex he had come from the night before when he had faced off with th
ree I-XIKs that had ravaged a nearby town.
“Not really,” she had said, turning away to the holo displays. “Why? Here on a job?”
“No, a vacation.”
“With smog-filled air, locals who spit on the street, and a general hopeless atmosphere?” She had shot him a sardonic look.
Ayzize had smirked. He liked this doctor. “Doesn’t sound as if you enjoy being here either.”
She had shrugged. “Endeavor isn’t too bad; I’m here to help those less fortunate than I.”
“Might want to check out Lexia and Santos then; they need all the help that they can get,” Ayzize had said, grabbing his civilian jacket that held all of his belongings. “Anything else I should know?”
“Drink lots of water and only have a liquid diet for the next several days. Slowly introduce solids back into your diet.”
“Noted.” He had headed for the door, waving a hand back to her. “Thanks, and if you change your mind about the bill, send the data to Raxdrýn’s Accounting and they’ll take care of it.”
“Not at all necessary, Mr. Nelowie,” she had called to him. “See you in a year!”
He hadn’t looked back at her statement, thinking he had misheard, but he did see her when he came back to Valen a year later. A XIK-R attack had left twenty-six people dead, the Doctor among them.
Finding and boarding a train car with the least amount of holo graffiti on it, Ayzize found a row with very few people and litter, taking an aisle seat. He settled in the chair with only two holes poking through the nylon fabric, tapping his temple to switch on his AR setting. A 3-D image of a small necklace formed in front of his eyes, the thin leather strap ending in a shell pendant. He turned over the image several times, examining the detail as a cracked voice overhead announced the train was leaving the station. The train gently moved forward as he brought up several reference holos of various animals, superimposing the images against the shell to determine which would look better. He wouldn’t complete the necklace for a while, but despite feeling conflicted with Doctor's dying words, he felt responsible nonetheless for her daughter.
Three
A ball smacked against the back of her head, her steps stumbling. Grunting and massaging the back of her head, Celes looked over her shoulder to the group of kids several meters away on the playground. A brown-haired boy at the head of the group grinned at her.
“Whatchya going to do, huh?” The smirking boy, named Elliot, called over to her. The other kids snickered. Gritting her teeth, Celes bent down and picked up the ball, trying to ignore day two-hundred and fifty-seven of putting up with Elliot’s stupid face. “What? Just going to walk away again?”
“She doesn’t have the guts to do anything,” Yuki taunted, the other kids loudly agreeing. “You gonna go home and cry again?”
More like daydream about punching your faces in, Celes thought viciously as she turned her back to them while they chanted ‘crybaby’ at her. Her mother, back when she was alive, ingrained that Celes and her brother should finish fights and not start them. While Celes believed it, the teachers who had punished her didn’t share the same sentiment.
“OK guys, let’s stop,” Elliot said loud enough for Celes to hear as she walked away with the ball, though he couldn’t hold back his giggles. “She’s probably still crying that the aliens abducted her brother the freak—”
Finishing, Mom. Celes swiftly turned and hurled the ball at Elliot’s face, kids screaming and throwing themselves out of the way as Elliot barely ducked in time.
“Hey, yeah, real funny!” Elliot called as he straightened, balling his fists and waving them at her. “You missed, idiot!”
Unnoticed by the other kids, the ball halted in midair past Elliot’s head. Celes made a fist, making the ball whirl in the air, then wrenched her fist backward.
“Wait ‘til my dad hears about—ow!” The ball slammed in the back of Elliot’s head, the boy crashing face first in the dirt as the ball bounced against the back of his head again. Celes smirked when the other kids rushed to Elliot’s side, shrieking and asking if he was OK. Elliot got up onto his forearms, dirt and mud in his brown hair, and glowered at her with a nice red welt on his forehead.
“Are you hurt?” A girl named Madelyn reached for Elliot’s face, and he shoved her away, his face burning. Celes didn’t like Madelyn either, but the sight of Elliot pushing her made Celes telekinetically grab the ball to bounce it hard against the back of his head once more.
“Celeste Katsumi Dušánek!” Ms. Lin-Mayer’s shout made them all stop and look over as their teacher marched across the dusty playground. “Young lady, I saw that,” she hissed as she stooped down to examine Elliot’s forehead, the other kids giving her room. Elliot immediately sniffed and teared up. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I hit him after he hit me,” Celes said with an edge to her voice, knowing that Ms. Lin-Mayer didn’t particularly care. “Self-defense.”
“I don’t care who hit who first.” Ms. Lin-Mayer made Elliot stand up and crossed her arms at Celes. Elliot took advantage of Ms. Lin-Mayer’s distraction to sneer at Celes with the other kids. “You know better than to use your abilities on someone.”
“He should know better than to piss off someone who has them.”
“That’s it, Celes.” Ms. Lin-Mayer pointed to the door of their school building behind her. “Inside, now. You’ve earned yourself a week’s detention. No more recess.”
Celes shrugged, not at all caring that Elliot and the other kids looked ecstatic at her punishment. “Saves me from looking at their dumb faces,” she muttered as she walked past Ms. Lin-Mayer, who followed her while gently leading Elliot, who moaned loudly that his head hurt and he couldn’t feel his face.
After getting another teacher to supervise the playground, they headed for their classroom. Once in the small room with metal desks and old holo projectors, Ms. Lin-Mayer made Elliot sit on her desk in the classroom’s front while telling Celes to sit and wait for her. Going to her assigned seat, the second to last row by the windows, Celes crossed her arms while watching Ms. Lin-Mayer disinfect Elliot’s welt, before her hands drifted over his forehead.
“Is it going to scar?” Elliot asked her excitedly, the scrape slowly healing under Ms. Lin-Mayer’s medpsy.
‘How’d you get that scar Elliot?’ ‘Oh, I had an epic battle with a bouncy ball and I lost by face-planting into the dirt!’ Celes mimicked Elliot’s irritating voice in her head, smirking at the thought.
“I’m afraid not, Elliot,” Ms. Lin-Mayer said, continuing to close the wound. “I don’t think your dad would like that very much.”
“Aw,” Elliot scowled, folding his arms.
“You seem to be feeling a lot better,” Ms. Lin-Mayer mused as she finished up, turning his face in her hands.
Elliot gaped for a second, then started simpering.
Celes thought she saw Ms. Lin-Mayer roll her eyes for a moment. “You’re free to go.”
Grinning, Elliot hopped off the desk, and throwing one more sneer towards Celes for good measure, bolted out the automatic doors.
Watching him leave and sighing, Ms. Lin-Mayer leaned against her desk, motioning for Celes to approach her. Celes shoved herself out of her seat, stomping over to Ms. Lin-Mayer.
“Celes, this is your third time getting into a fight with Elliot,” Ms. Lin-Mayer said, peering into her eyes once Celes got close enough.
“He made fun of Zander the first time and cried when I called him a worthless stain, and then he pulled my hair the second time,” Celes said through gritted teeth.
Ms. Lin-Mayer’s lips twitched a moment at Celes’ ‘worthless stain’ comment. “Still, you have psychic abilities, and he does not.”
“So?” Celes muttered, shoving her hands into her skirt pockets.
“So, we have to behave and act better around others,” Ms. Lin-Mayer said, her voice softening. “You remember what we learned in history class last year?”
Celes grumbled for a mo
ment. “Humans didn’t have psychic abilities until some company got something from the government and made it spread into human DNA or whatever.”
“More or less,” Ms. Lin-Mayer nodded. “It is better for us—I’m hoping—but until the last century and a half, many people didn’t like psychics, because they were afraid of what we can do. We didn’t have laws protecting us. The Galactic Accord has made other humans see us for what we always were: human.”
“Then why am I getting into trouble when he starts it?”
“Because there are a lot of humans who still think we’re bad. Humanity may have gotten over a lot of issues, but every time a new one comes up, we take a long time to solve it, and sometimes it still lingers.” Ms. Lin-Mayer shook her head. “You’re our only student with psychic abilities, and while you have gotten into trouble frequently, it didn’t happen until Zander left.” Her amber eyes softened as Celes briefly looked at the ceiling. “You need to talk about it, Celes. It doesn’t have to be to me, but we are getting a counselor by the end of the—”
“You said we’d get one by now five months ago.” Celes narrowed her eyes. “Then suddenly after we get a new stadium for the secondary school that Elliot is going to next year, we’re not getting a new counselor for a few months. What did Elliot’s dad buy this time?”
“Mr. Benitz had nothing to do—”
“I looked up the budget reports online for a math assignment,” Celes interrupted, angry that a teacher treated her like a toddler. “When mom was alive and dad wasn’t useless, I overheard them talking about Elliot’s dad taking over the school and community meetings. Anything he says goes because he is rich. Elliot whined that the football field was bad, and then in two weeks there’s a brand new one. He wants ice cream for lunch? That’s the only desert in the cafeteria five days straight. Zander accidentally imploded Elliot’s favorite toy? Zander gets in trouble and Elliot starts waving brand new ones in Zander’s face.
Origins of Hope Page 5
