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If we go on the way we have, the fault is our greed and if we are not willing to change, we will disappear from the face of the globe, to be replaced by the insect. - Jacques Yves Cousteau
iscarded wrappers littered the slate-grey countertop, rustling as small hands added one more to the pile. Maya couldn’t remember the last time a housekeeper prepared her meal―not that it took a lot of skill to unpack a thin, octagonal plastic tray and toss it in the Hydra. A minute later, four unidentifiable blobs in separate compartments had absorbed enough moisture to expand into a substance similar to the stringy meat-in-gravy she recalled giving her dog, plus a portion of green beans and mashed potatoes.
The only difference was how it smelled―the dog food was better.
A brown horror rested at the center of the tray in its own little chamber. It was supposed to be a dessert, but if she saved it for last, it would be rock hard. If she ate it first, it would scald the inside of her mouth. Maya stood up on tiptoe to reach into the Hydra, sucking air through her teeth as she tugged at the hot plastic tray, then scurried to the table and dropped it fast, rubbing her hands on her oversized beige sweater to cool them. With a sigh, she fell into the chair, staring at the comm terminal while picking at her dinner and letting one dangling foot sway. Endless weeks and months of the same three choices for dinner left her uninterested in tasting it.
Whatever meat sat under the heavy, brown gravy, its scent reminded her of having a dog. Tiny and white, he had regarded the pedestrian offering of rehydrated food as though it came from on high. Like Maya, he’d gotten the same unidentifiable substance every night, but the little guy had been excited as if each time was the first he’d had such a treat. A frown formed around the fist mushing her cheek to one side. She couldn’t recall the dog’s name or what had happened to him, catching only brief glimpses of having had a pet at some point in the past.
She left the empty tray on the table and plodded down the long corridor across the penthouse apartment and the four wooden stairs descending to the living room, a vast expanse of dimly lit sparsity. At a pair of sliding glass panels, she sat cross-legged on the tan carpet and gazed out over a glittering city of steel, glass, and neon light. Gusting wind pushed the scent of rain in around the closed doors.
Whirring, a little louder than the machine that cleaned and dried her hair, grew in strength to the right. Maya leapt to her feet, standing stiff at attention as a hovering drone skimmed along outside. Gleaming white shrouds, twelve inches around and emblazoned with the word Ascendant in silver, covered a ducted fan at each tip of the triangular machine. A large gun on its undercarriage swiveled at her, seconds before a grid of green laser light covered her body. After a momentary pause, a happy chirp accompanied its weapon returning to a neutral orientation, and the drone tilted forward, flying off. She lowered herself to sit once more, glaring at the slogan ‘Building a better you!’ below the name of her mother’s company until the machine drifted out of sight to the left.
She couldn’t hear the people far below in the street, but they seemed sad like her. Everyone kept their heads down and shuffled along, a river of grey-clad bodies indistinguishable from each other save for subtle variations in height. Most wore the same drab poncho and filter mask; everyone feared breathing in Fade. No one made eye contact with anyone. Several larger drones hovered over the crowd, patches of radiant light adding color to the blank world. Their frames as big as motorcycles, the four-fanned Authority bots on the hunt for criminals and non-conformers were double the size of the corporation-owned ones circling her building.
No one ever smiled; at least, not unless they happened to be selling something.
Overcast sky darkened, fast enough for her to perceive the change to night. Today had been a remarkable day; Mother had shown up at the penthouse apartment to check on her. Elation at gaining her attention, even for one solitary hour, had long ago turned to resentment. Mother hadn’t been as much concerned with her as she’d been with getting some good photos for use in the latest ad campaign.
Being the daughter of the CEO of Ascendant Pharmaceutical Corporation sucked.
An hour past dark, she gave up on waiting for the telltale glow of Mother’s helicopter coming in for a roof landing and trudged to her bedroom. Maya changed into a shin-length nightdress and started to crawl into bed, but stopped with one knee up on the mattress. She got down, went to the door and, as if sneaking up on a sleeping monster, crept to the comm terminal in the hallway. At the center of an eight-by-ten panel of dark metal, a round steel eye as big as her fist greeted her with a slow-blinking red light.
“Maya,” she said.
“Voiceprint recognized. Good evening, Maya Oman. It is past your bedtime.”
She sighed. “I know. Outbound call please, Vanessa Oman.”
The terminal remained silent for thirty seconds before the regal face of a woman in her middle thirties appeared, a midair hologram. Long, black hair cascaded around high cheekbones and perfect ebony skin. Every time Maya saw her, she felt self-conscious at her lighter tone. She wanted to be dark like Mother, not the medium brown she’d been stuck with. Always, Maya wondered if her appearance had something to do with her mother’s distance.
The cadence of a recording in a stern woman’s voice filled the corridor. “This is the private vid-mail inbox for Vanessa Oman, CEO of Ascendant Pharmaceuticals. If you have the necessary clearance to contact this number, leave a message. Otherwise, please disconnect this call and await the arrival of Authority Officers.”
“Begin message,” said a digital tone.
“Mother. It’s Maya. You didn’t come home… again. I guess you’ve gone to one of the other apartments. Good night.” Maya turned her back on the console. “Terminal, end call.”
The walls flickered and went dark as the holo-projector cut out. Maya spent a moment admiring moonlight glinting off the silver glitter in her raspberry toenail polish before emitting a soft sigh and heading to bed.
ressure on her face dragged Maya out of sleep. Two bright green spots hovered over her; an enormous metal hand covered her mouth and pinched her cheeks. The scent of a sweating man mixed with industrial chemicals flooded her nostrils. She let off a pitiful, muffled scream and kicked through her blankets at a chest rigid enough to hurt her toes.
A gun slid out of the darkness; its icy barrel against her forehead pushed her skull into the pillow as the green eye spots shrank with a faint electronic whirr.
“Be still. One sound, you die.” His breath smelled like rotting meat.
Maya attempted to nod, but couldn’t move her head.
“Blink twice if you understand.”
She did. The man removed his giant hand from her face. He leaned up and away, keeping his weapon aimed at her. Room lights came on; his eyes shifted color, becoming yellow. His great dark-blue arms, bigger around than her chest, appeared metal, as if hundreds of small interlocking ingots had flown together in a devouring plaque that advanced well over his
shoulders and shrouded the sides of his head. The interface between steel and skin resembled the teeth of a gear. More guns peeked from the folds of a long military-style coat. At her stare, mechanical lens-eyes jutting an inch out from his head clicked and narrowed further. His broad face and wide nose were similar in hue to her skin: creamed coffee. Not a trace of humanity remained in his glare.
Maya had no doubt this man could kill her.
A woman, younger than Mother but not by much, slipped past him. His bulk made her seem like a child. Black fatigue pants swooshed as she cleared the end of the bed in two strides. Thick dreadlocks hung down to her belt, studded with trinkets, beads, and wooden rings. She wore a nylon harness with a pair of handguns, several cases, and two silver grenades over an olive-drab tank top. A long-sleeved camouflage shirt draped loose and unbuttoned over everything, sleeves rolled up to the forearm. The woman scowled at Maya with contempt, a look dire enough to make her raise an arm to protect her face.
“Don’t give me that shit,” grumbled the woman. She bent forward to yank the blankets away from Maya. “You’re a Citizen; I ain’t gonna feel no sorry for you.”
“How we lookin’?” the huge man asked no one. Seconds later, he grinned. “Sounds good.”
The woman’s loose outer shirt sagged open as she leaned forward, grabbed a handful of Maya’s hair, and held her still for a brief but disdainful stare. “Roll over, hands behind you.”
Maya did as instructed, and didn’t move despite the creak of unwinding tape. She winced but kept quiet while the woman crushed her wrists together and cinched them with the sticky plasticized ribbon. A painful grip about the ribs swung her perpendicular to the bed. Maya whimpered as the angry woman gathered her legs together and wound more tape about her ankles.
A harsh slap to the back of the head silenced her.
“Quiet. Damn Citizen brat. You and your kind don’t know the first thing about suffering up in this palace. Don’t you dare give me that. The more pathetic you act, the more I ain’t gonna regret this.”
She lay like a loaf, offering no protest. Once the woman bit off the tape and squeezed it in place, she pulled Maya over onto her back by a fistful of fabric. She tilted her head, peering up past heaving breasts at the sweat-covered face hovering over her with an expression that asked the woman why she was being so mean. The silent plea seemed only to enrage her abductor more.
“Step it up, Genna. We’re made,” said the big man.
Genna’s oversized camouflage shirt shrouded the girl like a tent when she leaned her hands on the bed, on either side of Maya’s head, trying to peer out the bedroom door. Dog tags slipped out of the woman’s tank top and hit her in the face. She flinched, glaring at the dark brown arm inches from her face. The point of a black crescent moon tattoo peeked around her right shoulder. Maya cringed away from a drop of sweat landing near her eye. Genna slid backwards to her feet and shrugged a large, empty bag off her shoulder.
“Are you kidnapping me?” Maya whispered.
“Maldita niña,” muttered the huge man. He poked the top of her head with his pistol. “Shut up!”
“If you’re taking me for ransom, you’re wasting your―”
Genna pressed a line of tape over Maya’s mouth.
Widening yellow machine-eyes gave away a strong desire to inflict pain. “Dammit, kid, you don’t listen.”
The woman added a second length of tape, making an X over Maya’s mouth. “Calm down, Moth. You kill her now, and we just wasted a bunch of time and effort for nothing. Took Head weeks to find this princess.”
“Loco hombre de rata,” Moth grumbled.
A skinny Asian man in black pants, jacket, and gloves raced into the bedroom and stumbled to his knees when he tried to stop. He had a gun out, but it seemed like a little toy compared to the one pointed at her face. “Shit! Authority’s here.”
The metal-armed man whirled about, aiming at him, eyes wild with panic.
“Shit, Moth,” the man gasped, holding his hands up. “I’m not a damn Korean. Come back to now.”
“That was fast,” said Genna, as calm as if the sons of Jeva had come bearing religious literature. “Guess Headcrash is slipping.”
Moth scowled at the window. “He must’ve missed a sensor.”
“Yeah, yeah… you got the drones,” Genna muttered to no one. “But they found us somehow.”
“So? No big deal.” Moth smiled and aimed at the door. “All that means is this op just got a body count.”
aya’s calm faltered to impotent squirming. She’d seen enough entertainment vids to believe a civilian belonged on the floor in a gunfight. An Authority Officer, head to toe in blue armor and black, full-face helmet, rushed in. Moth lurched forward in a single stomp, driving his fist into the man’s chest. Splinters of hardened resin flaked around steel knuckles on impact with a sharp, crackling crunch. The armored figure vanished out the door in the blink of an eye. His flight ended with a heavy crash in the corridor outside. Moth leveled his pistol off and fired twice, rattling the windows.
He laughed.
Genna grabbed the tape around Maya’s ankles and yanked her off the bed like a slab of meat. She hit the floor on her back and lay still, staring at the ceiling while Genna used the bed for cover, aiming a smaller handgun at the doorway. Moth rushed into the hall with frightening speed for a man of his size.
“By order of the Authority, you are to surr―”
Boom.
A splattering crunch followed the rapport of Moth’s gun. “Minimal contact. Only a few blueberries. Pack it up, we’re moving.”
An Ascendant drone whizzed past the window; the flickering orange light of muzzle flare filled the room as it fired on people outside.
The Asian man jumped over the bed and landed on his knees at Maya’s side. He glanced at her with a hollow smile. “That’s a cute kid. Nice choice. Didn’t you have a boy, though?”
Genna punched him in the side of the head, knocking him through a disintegrating nightstand. Maya kept herself as calm as she could manage given the continuous thunder of a gunfight in her home.
“Don’t you dare bring him up! He’s got nothing to do with this,” shouted Genna.
“Ouch.” The Asian man rubbed his jaw. “It’s got everything to do with Sam, doesn’t it? That’s why you want the Xenodril. You got some kinda righteous avenger thing going on.”
“Fuck you, Icarus. You’re high, as usual. Remember what happens to wax wings.” Genna dug her fingers into Maya’s arm and stuffed her headfirst into the bag like an object. “Make one noise, kid, and you’re never going to see your mother again. You don’t gotta be alive to get ransom; they just gotta think it.”
Maya went limp as the woman forced her into a fetal position and zipped the duffel closed. Her world became dark, save for a little speck of light from a pinhole in the bag on the peach-hued silk over her knees.
“Hey, that’s kind of messed up,” said Icarus.
Nylon tightened into a cocoon as the bag rose into the air.
“What is?” asked Genna.
“I was gonna say we should grab her favorite doll, you know, to maybe keep her calm or some shit. But look… there ain’t a single damn one in the room.”
“Maybe she doesn’t like dolls,” said Genna, her tone flat. “I didn’t.”
“Anything I say to that will get me punched again.”
Genna laughed. “You’re a wise man, for a doser.”
“Yeah but…” Icarus paused. “Still kinda messed. Ain’t even one toy.”
The bag swayed side to side, matching the motion of the woman’s brisk walk, continually bumping Maya against her back. She squirmed in a series of tiny movements, testing the painful tightness binding her hands and feet. Coupled with the confining enclosure, she didn’t have any room to move. She doubted she possessed the strength to break free and would need to cut the tape. With nothing to do at the moment but wait, she gave up struggling.
Maya’s head struck a hard surface,
presumably her bedroom’s doorjamb or the one at the end of the corridor outside it. The next several gunshots she assumed came from Genna, closer and quieter than Moth’s hand cannon. Sliding glass doors hissed, and the patter of rain on the bag told her they ran across the deck where Mother’s helicopter sometimes landed. The alien whine of a drone circled far to the left.
“No, please!” a distant woman screamed.
Maya tried to yell through the tape as the weight of a body hit Genna from the left, crushing her into the woman.
“Gen, the pilot’s unarmed!” yelled Icarus. “We don’t need to kill her.”
“Outta my way! They’re all guilty.” Genna growled and grunted, struggling to get away from him.
Maya twitched at the heavy thud of a body striking the deck nearby. A distant female scream accompanied the scuff of boots and gunshots. The bag jostled with a run for a few strides, then someone grabbed the other side and jerked them to a halt, Maya bouncing up and down. She stilled with a shift in weight. Genna seemed to be dangling from the bag rather than carrying it.
“We ain’t got time for that bitch,” said Moth. “Killing one Authority tool ain’t gonna bring Sam back.”
A meaty thump came from somewhere close.
“Cute.” Moth chuckled. “Was that supposed to hurt?”
“Fuck you, Moth. Fuck you.” Genna thrust her body forward, yelling, “You’re lucky, bitch!” Two gunshots went off. “You keep running. Fuckin’ murderin’ cowards!”
A short period of silence followed, punctuated by the clatter of boots on the deck. The bag swung around and fell hard on a metal plate. Maya made no sound.
“Can you fly this thing?” Icarus asked.
“Yes,” said Genna and Moth in unison.
“Only to the ground,” Moth muttered. “Fuckers’ll track it. Still faster than the elevator.”
“Swarming with Authority.” A new voice, tinged with static, came from overhead.
“Head’s right.” Genna’s voice moved away. “No. I’ll take us to the edge of the Sanc.”
Heir Ascendant Page 1
