Endless Blue-ARC

by Wen Spencer

  "You're making it challenging to come and go." Eraphie said when she appeared at his side while they were setting up perimeter security monitors around the Svoboda. Once again his personal guards had yet to notice her standing beside him, well within striking distance.

  "Yes." Mikhail decided that he was partially at fault too. The clothes he'd given her could be easily mistaken for standard issue uniform at a distance. "Entirely too many things are coming and going unseen. Like you."

  "Pft, Reds are easy to get past. Stay downwind, move silently, keep to shadows and whoosh." She made a sliding motion with her hands. "You are super ninja."

  "Super ninja?"

  "Super ninja!" She repeated only this time with a thick Japanese accent in a deep bass voice and made several karate moves, complete with quiet little 'ya's' as she chopped the air. While it was only mock fighting, her moves were clean in form, indicating that she'd been trained to fight. "It's a game we played as kids. Super ninja. Hide and seek. Marco Polo. Blind man's bluff."

  "And you always won?"

  She laughed, relaxing out the fighting stance. "No, no, Reds are good, but Blues are scary."

  It was the second time she mentioned Blues in a way that didn't fit what he knew—but he was by no means an expert in them. Viktor had outlawed the production of Blues in Novaya Rus shortly after he came into power. He foresaw Reds were going to form the bulk of the military force against the nefrim and thus a necessary evil. Blues, though, were created only to fill the sexual desires of their owner. Other colonies still produced Blues, and many of the envoys that visited the palace certainly owned one or more. Knowing Novaya Rus' stance on them, the envoys always left their Blues behind. The pictures he'd seen of the women were always stunningly beautiful, as perfect in form, dress, and makeup as china dolls. Mikhail couldn't imagine any of them roughhousing with Reds and coming away the winner.

  "What exactly is a Blue?" Mikhail asked.

  His feral ninja kitten pressed her lips thin obviously weighing what was safe to tell him. "Ya know, when they first made Reds, they were trying to create humans to colonize the first planets that they found. Back then, they thought it would be easier to fiddle with humans instead of trying to fix an entire world."

  Mikhail nodded. That was before the development of warp drives that could quickly move the human race to an uninhabitable planet and a host of terraforming tools to make said planet a paradise. The production of Reds probably would have been phased out if not for the nefrim wars.

  "Well, Reds were made to be adaptable," Eraphie said. "Not just them, but their kids."

  The ramifications were starting to dawn on Mikhail. Reds were never allowed to breed before. Here in this world, not only had they reproduced, with the time dilation, they'd been given generations to adapt.

  "And Blues are . . .?"

  "When you cross a Red with a Blue, you get a lot more than a pretty kitty. Blues have something going on up here." She tapped her temple. "And the Red brings it out, makes it kick ass. Reds might be stronger, faster, but Blues can out think them. Fighting a Blue is like fighting your shadow."

  "Where did the Blues come from? They're not on military ships."

  "Here and there. Some of the bigger civilian ship landings have a shit load of Blues. And Georgetown rescued a crèche off of Tau Ceti; it produced both Blues and Reds."

  Mikhail hadn't thought to check if White Star Creche had a second production line. No doubt that it did; Blues were lucrative. Sex sold well. But why had the Georgetown survivors decanted both and bred them together?

  He had no chance to ask as his guards came alert as Hardin approached from the direction of the salvage yards.

  Eraphie looked like she wanted to bolt. It was gratifying to see that she was feral for everyone, and that she'd come to trust Mikhail to some extent. "Did you ask him to . . .?"

  "Yes," Mikhail nodded in reassurance. He'd forwarded her request just before Hardin returned to the Red Gold. He'd also set Moldavsky on eavesdropping duty; unfortunately no one on the Svoboda spoke Japanese, so the result of the conversation was still unknown. He wondered if Hardin might have deliberately avoided Standard. Not knowing protocol for Ya-ya, it was difficult to tell.

  Eraphie wavered, but chose to stay, hedging a little closer to him.

  Mikhail saluted Hardin, who returned the salute. "Eraphie was just asking about her cousin's boat."

  Hardin studied Eraphie, looking down over her slowly from head to toe. After a minute, he asked, "Eraphie Bailey?"

  "That's me." She held out her hand, demanding a handshake and the respect that went with it.

  Hardin shook her hand. "You a Red or a Blue."

  "Red." Eraphie raised her chin up slightly as she said it.

  Hardin nodded. Nothing in his face changed, but Mikhail had the distinct impression that his interest in Eraphie waned. "Ya-ya port authority says that the Rosetta was towed into their harbor a short while ago. The Rosetta had engine problems and lost their radio too. They didn't have any more information but hazarded to guess that the Rosetta's going to be in dry dock for a while. Apparently Ceri put out word that your cousins will be working under her."

  Eraphie visibly relaxed. "Oh good. They're safe."

  "I was actually here looking for one of your other cousins. Ethan?"

  "Ethan?" Eraphie said in surprise. "Why?"

  "He was finding me ships to salvage. He'd sent word he'd heard of something new," Hardin said.

  Eraphie shook her head slowly. "He'd found our family a ship that he thought might be a seraphim ship, but he didn't say anything about a second ship. You'll have to talk to him—if you catch up with him."

  Mikhail looked at her in surprise. The way she had spoken earlier, he was sure that all of her family had died.

  "He survived?" Hardin beat Mikhail to the question.

  "God loves idiots," Eraphie snarled. "Yes. He went to Mary's Landing."

  "You didn't go with him?" Mikhail asked. Mary's Landing was one of the sites he hadn't been able to gather any information on except that it existed.

  "No!" Eraphie cried. "I'd rather be dead than to go to Mary's."

  "That idiot," Hardin said. "He knew I was coming. Why did he go there?"

  "Because he's an idiot," Eraphie said. "You said so yourself. I don't know what he thinks he's doing; you can't outthink bigotry. I wouldn't have thought anyone in my family would ever willingly go to Mary's Landing."

  "What's so horrible about Mary's?" Mikhail asked.

  Eraphie combed her mane back from her eyes. "Georgetown says that anyone born and raised here has the same rights as any other human, even if they're fully adapted. Mary was an old luxury cruise liner; it had three Blues for every first class passenger. They've been using their Blues like they were a crèche gene bank. They breed the Blues and sell out the children."

  Mikhail swore softly. It was bad enough to use the Blues as sex toys. To make them pregnant and then steal away the babies was pure evil.

  "Most people that buy a Mary's Blue marry them." Hardin murmured as if that made things better.

  'Not all." Eraphie growled. "Mary also collected a file of genetic markers of every adapted on every ship in the Sargasso. Both Blue and Red. If someone goes into debt, Mary checks their DNA, and enslaves them if they have any of the markers. Mary claims that a debt to them overrides the rights given to a person by their own landing."

  "They enslave people who were raised as free?" Mikhail asked.

  Eraphie nodded empathically. "Oh, yeah! What's more, Mary makes up debts just so they can hold someone. No one from Georgetown will do business with them."

  Hardin saw the look on Mikhail's face and said, "Oh, it's not that virtuous. Georgetown lost eighty percent of its crew the first year. They started up production on the crèche just to keep from dying off completely. They're into their third generation; there's almost no one without one grandparent who was adapted."

  Mikhail was appalled that third generation could still b
e considered adapted. "Mary's extends ownership into grandchildren?"

  "Once a blue, always a blue." Eraphie said it like she was quoting something. "Ethan was fucked in the head to go there. And I told him that before he left."

  "You'll have to be careful, Volkov." Hardin said. "I heard a rumor once that Viktor had a good deal of patented genetic material, in addition to that reclaimed Tsar bloodline. If that's true, Mary's Landing might even lay claim to you."

  While Hardin's tone was of mild concern, his eyes held laughter at Mikhail's expense.

  "I'll keep that in mind," Mikhail said coldly.

  Hardin seemed to realize he'd tipped his hand and the laughter faded out of his eyes. "Did Ethan have anyone with him?"

  Eraphie shrugged. "There was a minotaur by the name of Caan and an adorable little obnoaian by the name of Mahoruru tagging along with him. Neither one spoke any Standard or English. I think they were with Ethan because he was the only person that could communicate with them. The shame about Caan was that a minotaur ship showed up after everyone had left."

  "So, minotaurs are friendly?" Mikhail asked.

  "Usually," Hardin said in a tone that suggested that the aliens could be dangerous.

  "If you pick a fight with a minotaur, you're too stupid to live." Eraphie clarified.

  "Did you talk to them?" Hardin asked.

  "I'm not a Blue." Eraphie seemed to think this was answer enough. Hardin nodded as if it was.

  "Did they head back to Midway?" Hardin asked.

  "No. They seem to head toward Mary's. Maybe Caan got hold of them and they were going to pick him up."

  Hardin nodded slowly then looked away, studying the sea. "I was shipping out soon. A storm is coming in. There's a small safe harbor a few hundred miles out."

  "Not much protection here no." Eraphie agreed.

  "After that, I'm going to Ya-ya," Hardin said. "You're welcome to come with me."

  Eraphie's eyes widened slightly.

  "The Svoboda will be leaving for Ya-ya too." Mikhail countered. He didn't want Hardin taking away his native guide. Nor did Mikhail completely trust Hardin. He hadn't decided his next course of action, but his instinct said that if Ya-ya had drydocks and shipyards, then it was a better place for the Svoboda than this desolate island.

  "I—I think that I'm staying with Mikhail."

  "Mikhail?" Hardin loaded his name with sexual innuendo.

  Eraphie blushed and looked away. "It's nothing like that."

  My god, this man is manipulative. Hardin's insinuation was nothing more than trying to get Eraphie to come with him to prove she wasn't sexually involved with Mikhail.

  "I consider her part of my crew." Mikhail warned Hardin with a look to stop what he was doing. Was the man attempting to steal Eraphie away just because Mikhail desperately needed her help? Did Hardin resent him that much?

  Hardin acknowledged Mikhail's rebuke with slight smile. "If you change your mind, Bailey, just send out a signal and I'll have a launch pick you up."

  Hardin saluted and strolled off.

  Eraphie was still blushing.

  "You're going to have to call me Captain." Mikhail said gently as he could.

  She nodded. "Mik . . .Captain, what did Hardin mean about the patented genetic material?"

  It was something Mikhail normally wouldn't talk about but she'd been open about being a Red. It seemed only fair to admit to his own makeup. "There was a Russian crèche that invested in DNA mining, before it became illegal. Actually, they were why it became illegal. They started with actors and actresses, mostly as part of their Blue line. But then they branched out and tried to recreate famous political figures. Viktor Volkov was made from DNA from Peter the Great. The DNA was fragmentary, so they spliced it with what they had on hand. It's not exactly clear what all went into making Viktor."

  It was the main reason they made Mikhail instead of letting Ivan have a normal born son. It was fully expected that most of the genius of Viktor would be recessive.

  "What does that have to do with you?" Eraphie asked.

  "I'm Viktor's clone."

  "You are?"

  Mikhail nodded.

  "Wow." She breathed. "Yeah. I guess. It's the nose. With that broken like that, you don't look like him. But then, he killed himself before I was born; I've only seen photos of him."

  Mikhail been nodding along with her comments and felt like he'd just stepped off the end of a dock. "He killed himself?"

  "Yeah. It was a huge surprise. Everyone thought he was dealing well with his wife dying, but one day . . .he shot himself."

  "Tsar Viktor Petrevich Volkov?"

  "Well . . . he wasn't a Tsar here. He was a fisherman."

  Mikhail opened his mouth to protest and then shut it again. Viktor had vanished with the Queen Mary IV. The cruise liner had been the largest one ever built, back in the day when individually owned jump drives were unheard of, even for the rich and powerful. During a summit meeting, terrorists caused the warp field to activate and the ship was lost. Lost . . .to this place. The Queen Mary had landed safety and Viktor survived? Wait. Mary's Landing. "Queen Mary IV's Landing?"

  Eraphie shook her head. "No, he left Mary's Landing and came to Georgetown Landing. We went through bad times right after we landed, and things looked bleak. Mary's Landing knew we had a crèche onboard and was going to take it by force. Viktor found out and took what was left of his security team and came to Georgetown to keep the crèche out of the hands of Mary's Landing. He planned to blow it up, but he met Marion, that was his wife, and she talked him out of it. She was yearling Blue."

  "Viktor married a Blue . . .and had children?"

  "Four girls . . ."

  Good god, does that make me a father?

  " . . .and . . .um . . .twenty-two grandkids, and I'm not sure of great-grandkids. That number changes every few months."

  Great-grandfather? Mikhail stared at her slack mouth for several minutes before he could find his voice again. "He killed himself?"

  "My aunt said he was always a little touched. None of his kids were all that surprised. Upset, yes. Surprised, no."

  He'd always believed that Viktor had been made perfect. That Ivan continued that perfection. That he was the only one flawed. Were all his suicidal tendencies part of the original package then? Did that mean Ivan hid a dark streak? "What about his children? Are they . . .are they as crazy as he was?"

  Eraphie bit her lip as if the truth was bad. "Well," she finally admitted. "They're all half-blues. And blues are angsty by nature. It seems to come from having their empathic nature ramped up so high for the sex stuff. His grandkids, though, are all rock solid."

  Children. Grandchildren. Great-grandchildren. All his life he'd been able to count blood relations with one finger. The only people he could claim as grandparents were dead for hundreds of years.

  "You really are going to Ya-ya, right?" Eraphie asked.

  Mikhail blinked at the change in conversation, still slightly dazed at the idea of an extended family. "We've searched the island. There's nothing more we can learn here."

  "We should leave soon, then, before the storm hits. It's going to be a granddaddy."

  Like me.

  "We can take off at the last moment and just fly above the storm." Mikhail said.

  "Ugh!" Eraphie made a face.

  It would help if his native guide was a little more informative. "What?"

  "If that's the plan, I'm going with Hardin."

  "Flying above the storm is a bad idea?"

  "Very bad."

  It occurred to him that if flying was a safe option, then they would have spotted at least one plane. The total lack of aircraft should have told them that flying wasn't safe. They weren't prepared, though, for a speedy takeoff; they had people and equipment scattered all over the island.

  "We have a lot of work to do if we're going to take off soon," Mikhail said. "Go get anything you want to take with you."

  She flashed him a smile and took off lik
e a gazelle.

  * * *

  He had Ensign Moldavsky gather weather patterns before pulling all her equipment down off the observation deck. Eavesdropping on Hardin had given them Ya-ya's position and radio frequencies the settlement used and an idea of standard protocol for reaching authorities. Ya-ya lay to the northwest several thousand kilometers. If they went straight north, before heading west, they could outrun the storm.

  "All crew onboard," Lieutenant Ulanova reported.

  "Is Eraphie Bailey on board?" Mikhail had left instructions that she would be allowed to board.