Fire of the Dark Triad

by Asya Semenovich

  “No, only when I want to impress people,” replied Nick in a completely serious tone.

  Indeed, passersby eyed the asymmetrically twisted lines of the luxurious vehicle with deep respect, slowing down to give it a proper look.

  “Nice,” Hilgor watched the shiny object indifferently as the shallow dent underneath the modest logo expanded in all directions, creating an entrance.

  “Hilgor, don’t be a bore,” said Reish scornfully. “This is the latest model. It’s insanely fast and comes with right of way over all other traffic. We’ll be in the middle of the Pacific before we know it.”

  “She’s right. Only government and emergency transports have higher priority,” confirmed Nick, hospitably gesturing them in.

  The cabin was small, but not claustrophobically so, thanks to the large semicircle window. Nick muttered something under his breath, and three identical armchairs unfolded from the floor and rotated to face each other. He sat in one of them, Reish and Hilgor sank into the other two, and the seats immediately changed shape, adjusting their support. A knot of abstract gargoyles lowered from the ceiling above their heads, and Riph gave the hanging monsters a warning growl. His people didn’t seem to be worried about them, however, so he curled up in the middle, satisfied to be in the perfectly central position.

  “Nick, I can’t believe that you complained about my taste,” said Hilgor, nodding toward the overhead fixture.

  “It was the only available interior for this model. This is late 23 AC, I think. It seems to be in vogue now. Come on, Hilgor. Putting up with inconvenient authentic things is the price of luxury here. I thought you already figured that one out.”

  Nick sent destination coordinates to the traffic control center, and the flyer softly lifted off from the ground, passed through the holographic wall and joined the stream of traffic.

  Reish instantly shut her eyes and quickly said, “Nick, can you please dim the window? I know that all these … projectiles aren’t here to get us, but … just do me a favor.”

  “Sure. Kir, block the external cabin view.”

  The window filled with color, acquired a solid texture and seamlessly blended with the wall. The gargoyles untangled, stretching their necks, they lit up, permeating the cabin with a mix of light and shadows. Reish sighed with relief and sat back.

  Hilgor shifted his position to improve the angle at which he was looking at Nick and almost jumped out of his chair when it responded with a subtle movement.

  “Damn, I forgot. I hope this pseudo-live crap goes out of fashion soon. Can you turn it off?”

  “Kir, freeze Hilgor’s seat.” Nick sat back and looked at his company with an amused smile. “So, is everyone comfortable now?” He apparently didn’t feel any unease with the setting.

  Nick’s effortlessly relaxed pose reminded Hilgor of something, and it nagged at him for a moment until he realized what it was. It was a memory from his trip to Africa, which he had requested almost as soon as he’d arrived on Earth.

  Nothing in his previous life had prepared him for the austere beauty of the yellow prairies that stretched from horizon to horizon in front of his eyes. But he hadn’t gone for this splendor; he had gone there to see one thing – a cheetah running in the wild. And when he saw the lanky silhouettes appearing from behind the low hills against the setting sun, he felt a stabbing pain in his heart, the same as he had on the day of his father’s funeral. He spent an entire week there, watching the big cats hunt, play and rest, and waiting for his internal turmoil to finally subside.

  And now Nick reminded him of a cheetah, reclining on a low tree branch, watching the savannah through its half-closed eyes, its muscles totally limp. But Hilgor saw that it took no time at all for the animal to turn into a deadly living missile when it spotted prey in the distance.

  “My story will take some time, let’s wait until we settle down to dinner,” said Nick, ignoring Reish’s disappointed look. “Tell me about yourselves. How have you been? Of course, it’s hard to escape that Reish is a star now. I’m glad, Reish. I didn’t have time to look up your releases, but I have complete trust in our highly sophisticated consumers.”

  “Thanks, Nick,” she shrugged in a vaguely self-conscious gesture.

  Nick smiled and turned to Hilgor, “And what about you? I don’t know anything about your life since your arrival.”

  “There is not much to tell, Nick,” replied Hilgor. “Not much is happening.”

  “Good summary, Hilgor. Nick, let me translate – his work is dragging, and he misses Del,” said Reish with poorly hidden pity in her voice.

  Hilgor raised his head with a sharp jerk. “It doesn’t matter. I would never go back. It’s just that I always had someone to fight with, something to be mad about. I feel a bit – lost now. Imagine an animal that was raised in an underground cage and then was suddenly released into the wild.”

  “It would be dangerous for the animal, wouldn’t it?” Nick looked at him with a peculiar expression.

  “Maybe. But it’s worth it. I’ll manage … but she is right, enough about us, really. Nick, what happened? You said that Lita is alive. I assume it’s her you’re trying to impress with this vehicle?”

  “Not exactly trying to impress, no,” a shadow passed over Nick’s face.

  Hilgor glanced up and saw that, of course, the gargoyles had changed their position. Damn the late 23rd century, he thought, unnerved.

  “And I’m sorry that I didn’t call before I left, Hilgor,” Nick paused mid-sentence and focused on something in space for a second, “it looks like we’re almost there. Kir, start dinner for three and a steak for Riph.”

  “Medium rare, no spices,” quickly added Hilgor.

  This part of the dialogue penetrated Riph’s sleep. He stirred and sat up.

  “Sorry, pal, it’s cruel, but it’s going to be artificial,” Nick looked in the dog’s eyes. “Imagine that, after Y-3. But it’s still better than the garbage you ate there most of the time.” Riph tilted his head – these words didn’t match his vocabulary. “Do you wonder why artificial? Well, Earth is humane. We care about being humane, right, Riph?” Nick bent down and patted the black head, then straightened up in his chair, but didn’t recline all the way. “Lita’s treatment was a complete success, but she is scheduled to leave Earth and return to her home planet in the next several hours. She has been kept unconscious so that she wouldn’t ever know that she had been here. It’s very humane, don’t you agree?” he addressed Riph again, but the dog didn’t wag his tail, picking up on the sudden change on the people’s faces.

  Hilgor looked away, but Reish, on the contrary, stared at Nick with animated interest. One would assume that she didn’t understand what he had just said, except that she continued to hold this expression a little too long.

  The cabin was very quiet.

  “Nick, she will be killed there. Why are they doing this?” Reish started at the sound of Hilgor’s voice and let go of her frozen smile.

  “There’s not much to explain if you think about it,” Nick was speaking in a flat, almost indifferent tone. “Realistically, nothing else could have happened. I don’t know what I was hoping for. She doesn’t have any right to stay on Earth, and they won’t change their policy based on her circumstances. It was very generous of them to even let her go through the treatment here. They weren’t supposed to share any information with me, but they did. Earth’s privacy laws don’t apply to her, and I paid her medical bill, maybe that was why. Or, who knows, maybe they felt guilty,” Nick’s voice was perfectly level, except for a sudden hoarse note in the middle of the last sentence.

  “And …what about you?” asked Reish quietly.

  “What about me?” Nick looked at her as if the question was hard to comprehend. “Oh, not much, really. They revoked my headhunter license for transporting an illegal and going to Y-3 without permission. Nobody seemed to care wha
t I did on Beta Blue.”

  Reish abruptly got up and stepped forward. Riph jumped up, hastily cleared the way, and she kneeled at Nick’s feet, cradling his hands in hers.

  “Nick, I can’t believe … I see why you asked us to come, nobody else knows about what happened … there. I’ll stay with you as long as you want me, hours, days, whatever, while you are going through it. You can’t take it alone. Nobody could. I see now, this was the help that you needed, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was. Thank you. This means a lot to me,” said Nick calmly.

  Too calmly, thought Hilgor, silently watching the scene. He couldn’t form a proper reaction; something was off.

  They felt a mild shift in gravity.

  “We’ve arrived,” explained Nick. “I hope you’re getting hungry. Kir, open the door.”

  They stepped out of the shuttle onto a sandy shore a little ways from a lonely waterfront house. It was sharply outlined by the light of the almost full moon, and Hilgor instantly admired the perfect balance of the casual arrangement of its blocky modules. But in full disclosure, he was strongly partial to any buildings that originated before the 22nd century. It was the last period before biotechnology exploded into the mainstream, so he could rest assured there wouldn’t be any tricks incompatible with his unwired body.

  He glanced around and the dark house in the pale moonlight made him think about a ghost ship, which, according to Y-3 lore, appeared on the lakes during a full moon and was said to be a bad omen. He shook off this silly association, and hurriedly caught up with the rest of the group. Riph stopped at the main doors, but Nick passed him and led them towards the wide staircase that hugged the house and ascended to the rooftop deck. “The weather can’t be better. Let’s have dinner on the patio. The view is nice there,” he said as he began to walk up. “Follow me.”

  The dining area on the rooftop turned out to be surprisingly nice and cozy in spite of the relentless sound of surf underneath, and the unobstructed view was indeed breathtaking. A small school of floating lanterns cast a warm light on a large wooden table and a dozen chairs in the center. Two simple cupboards were placed on opposite sides of the table, creating the perception of a somewhat enclosed space while not blocking the panoramic view of the ocean and the dark hills of the island. The waist-high railings around the deck enforced the feeling of safety.

  Nick went straight to one of the cabinets and started taking out dinnerware with the confidence of someone well acquainted with the house.

  “There’s a wine collection on the upper shelves, very decent as I remember. Please have a look and choose a bottle. Everything is semi-manual in this house, so I’ll have to add a human element to the last touches of my dinner preparations. I’ll be right back.” Nick finished arranging the utensils, and went downstairs, giving his guests a reserved smile on his way out.

  Reish walked to the railing and silently watched the waves at the base of the house; Hilgor pulled a chair closer to the table and sat down, staring at the wood patterns and tapping his fingers on the edge.

  “I don’t know how to behave,” Reish said sharply. “I am trying not to think about what he must be feeling. Just imagine what’s going to happen to her on Beta Blue.” She shrugged nervously, “I think I do need a drink – you?” She walked to the cabinet that Nick had pointed out, but before Hilgor had a chance to answer, a holographic image lit up in the air above the table. It was Nick, in the kitchen downstairs, loading dishes onto some kind of dumb waiter.

  “I’m sending the food up. See, Hilgor, this place has an intercom system, very handy in your low-tech case. I thought you would appreciate it. Reish, if you’re looking for wine, check out that bulky bottle in the corner. I’ll be up soon.”

  The screen disappeared, but the cabinet across the table from Reish chimed. Glad to have something to do, Hilgor walked over and opened the doors that immediately let out a rich mix of delicious smells.

  “An external intercom; how nice. These were everywhere before the wearable implants took over,” he said wistfully, picking up a tray with a large covered dish. “You know, Reish, I once asked a local girl to pause live streams to her retina during our date, and she looked at me as if I’d asked her to jump off a cliff,” he shook his head in mocking disbelief and continued to shuttle smaller porcelain bowls to the table. Riph sat in the middle of the route, following every tray trajectory with the highest degree of concern and making such a nuisance of himself that it Hilgor finally lost his patience, “Riph, shoo! Your steak is still too hot. And don’t hope, I’m not going to drop anything.”

  “Did she immediately use some excuse to leave your place?” Reish was still studying the intimidating wine collection. “Hilgor, you have to understand – you were being extremely bizarre by even asking that. Those generations here grew up with implants, and they would never turn off their feeds. But, to be fair, they do use conjoint mode to share each other’s inputs, temporarily, at least. It makes sex much more intimate … in most cases. But then again, you aren’t wired.” She finally decided on a bottle, and took it off the shelf, “Hilgor, it’s practically barbaric for these folks, even presuming your exotic outlier status and such. You should at least use contact screens.”

  “They irritate my eyes,” Hilgor placed the last dish on the table and sat down.

  Reish poured wine into three glasses and sat down too.

  They looked at each other in silence, and Hilgor guessed that they were both thinking about Nick.

  “He’s behaving so calmly. He must be in shock,” Reish said finally.

  Hilgor didn’t reply. He wasn’t so sure.

  Reish was about to add something, but they heard Nick’s steps on the staircase, and she cut herself off. In a moment, Nick appeared on the deck, and from their first look at his face they realized that something was very different now, and not in a good way.

  Ignoring their presence, Nick walked straight to the wine cabinet. He lightly tapped its side panel, which opened revealing a smooth glossy pad. Nick touched it, and the outlines of a holographic sphere again lit up over the table. Nick turned in its direction, his face pale and angular in the cold electric glow, and said in an even voice, “State Security Emergency Services.”

  The sphere blinked and displayed the State Security emblem. “Please state your emergency. It’ll be communicated through the corresponding channels immediately,” the voice from the invisible speakers seemed to be coming from all patio corners at once.

  “I’m holding two hostages at this location, both former M-847 citizens. My request is an urgent audience with the president.”

  Reish’s face went completely white even in the yellowish light of a slowly passing lantern, but Hilgor just slightly screwed up his eyes, perversely pleased that his nagging unease wasn’t a paranoid overreaction after all. “Just so we’re clear,” continued Nick, “this island has a first-generation privacy protection system – both a detection screen and a missile launcher with remote-guided targeting.” Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black rectangle. He looked at its surface screen and nodded in satisfaction, “I turned the system on, and it’s perfectly functional. It’s currently in default mode to intercept perimeter-penetrating gadgets. The missiles are designed only for small drones – they wouldn’t come close to stopping your combat vehicles, should you decide to storm the island. But I’m changing the settings,” Nick pointed the object in his hand first at Hilgor and then at Reish, who shrieked, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’ve just imprinted the hostages as the primary targets – they will be hit instantly if the island screen is breached.” His eyes were very hard and very cold, “I expect a response to this frequency within one hour. After that I will manually trigger the missiles to hit the hostages.” Nick touched the intercom pad, and the screen disappeared.

  “Now, Kir, power off,” he said quickly and stood still for a moment, apparently waiting fo
r the full shutdown message. Then his face assumed its usual expression, “I am sorry,” he said in his familiar voice, “this circus had to look authentic.”

  Reish and Hilgor just stared at him without saying a word.

  “Nick, damn,” Reish finally blinked and shook her head, “it did feel … authentic.”

  Nick lowered his eyes as if resting them for a second. When he raised them again, there was a calm resolve in his face, “I told you that the ship with Lita would leave Earth in several hours. I can’t let that happen.”

  The cheetah wasn’t asleep after all, simply waiting. Be careful, thought Hilgor, big cats could be rather deadly when cornered. But Nick’s impeccable acting in front of the State Security screen didn’t show any sign of instability. Or, maybe, it wasn’t an act at all, and the real performance was played for the two of them after the intercom was turned off.

  “Nick, what is a first-generation privacy protector screen?” Hilgor asked with casual curiosity, noting that Nick had slid the launcher control back in his pocket.

  “It’s an old perimeter guard system. Rich and celebrity vacationers used it before media drones became fully illegal. This place is at the very high end of luxury, and the leasing company has gone to great lengths not to ruin its 21st-century authenticity. They even included a demo of how this defense system works in their advertisement. I had it shoot down a toy drone once when I was bored. The perimeter screen was built to pass through any organic matter – birds, fish … but any artificial thing of any kind, say, a rescue craft, will trigger the alarm.”

  “What happens then, Nick?” Reish’s voice was very quiet, almost a whisper.

  “Nothing Reish. I faked the whole thing,” Nick went to the table and sat down. “Let’s eat.”

  Nobody moved except for Riph, who put his muzzle on Nick’s lap and flared his nostrils.

  “Your food, Riph,” Nick took the lid off one of the bowls, transferred the steak to a plate and put it on the floor. The rest of the dish covers, however, remained in place – Hilgor and Reish didn’t even look at the table, their eyes still glued to Nick’s face.