by Lisa Eskra
As Magnius came to a stop in the congested traffic, he overheard a familiar voice in the vehicle next to him. From behind his tinted helmet, he shifted his attention toward it. Their on-board computer was tuned to ANN. He recognized the news anchor reporting on the scene and saw the outline of the Schenectady in the background.
"…according to the latest reports, Vice President Taylor met with a Xuranian representative almost four days ago, describing them as pleasant and highly-advanced. He has urged all citizens of United Europe not to panic, saying a short time ago that the alien race has no hostile intentions and means the people of Astra no harm. Captain Ardri Lothian was the AC officer who first came across the Xuranians when she followed up on the presence of an unusual probe in the Gamma Pavonis system, approximately ten light-years from Zion. We here at ANN will keep you up to date on the latest developments in this case as they happen, live from Northampton…"
There goes the planet.
The idea of first contact had always perturbed him and not because he thought the aliens would be hostile. It was their government, the AC Council, which he didn't trust. Council members rarely focused on the issues anymore, instead preferring to assail one another with ad hominim attacks. Progressives and federalists disagreed with each other on the sole basis of their party allegiance. Listening to them argue was like watching a scripted farce, and the thought that those people would be negotiating peace between the AC and the aliens terrified him.
On second thought, maybe he did need a drink after all.
Chapter Eight
The transport arrived much sooner than Amii expected. They exited the vehicle and walked toward the towering Capitol building while the security guard watched. The whitewashed structure had thirty-one monolithic columns and eighteen marble stairs: a pillar for each of the amendments in their constitution and a step for each of the inalienable rights described therein. Every feature symbolized a facet of the UE's rise to power, from the materials it was made from to the patch of ground it had been erected upon.
She vaulted up the steps and touched one of the smooth columns, intrigued by the structure's significance. The stone drew the heat from her hand, but her awe overshadowed the chill. Over the years, controversial laws had been handed down at this very location. The drug legalization acts. Abolishment of the right to bear arms. The fight for Pisa. Equality for psions. The Capitol was one of the few buildings untouched during the reconstruction of Northampton and had been maintained so well one would not guess it to be over a century old.
Across the street, she saw the Westwood Estate—home of the President and Vice President. It too had remained while the City of Dreams took shape around it. The understated palace had a large front lawn with a six-foot-high hyperdiamond fence, transparent yet impenetrable. A smattering of snow still clung to the ashen grass, dormant from the extended winter. The flag of United Europe, a blue canvas with a ring of ten gold stars, fluttered in the strong gust of wind from its perch atop a flagpole on the estate's façade.
With a terse wave Xander gestured for her to follow him inside, where they were quickly stopped by internal security.
"Dr. Adams and my assistant, here to see the President."
A hefty guard sitting next to the door squinted at the two of them. His balding head flashed in the light as he glanced down at his comtab for a moment. "IDs please?" Both of them offered up their wrists, which the guard scanned. Satisfied the two were who they claimed to be, he turned toward a younger man beside him. "These two have an appointment with the President. Escort them to Conference Room Two."
"Follow me," he told them before taking a left and heading down a long, narrow corridor.
As they fell into step behind him, Xander took Amii's hand and clenched it with the strength of a giant. She hoped his worry had no merit, yet years of failure had turned him into a chronic pessimist. During their awkward conversations, she could tell he'd never been a people-person and didn't function well in groups. By nature he was a recluse, content to live his life without a single friend. He'd been used and abused by people his whole life, entrenching the isolation even further. Some days he wondered if life was really worth all the pain, but his dream gave him hope. One day soon, his name would no longer be synonymous with ridicule.
The three of them stopped outside a mahogany door with an oval frosted window in it. The guard pressed the door chime. "Mr. President, Dr. Xander Adams is here to see you."
A gruff voice returned through the panel on the wall. "Please, send him in."
The guard opened the door and ushered the two of them inside. Amii glanced to the left, where President Thomas Scheidecker sat at the head of the conference table with his VP, Bryan Taylor, at his side.
The President's obesity preceded him. His light brown hair receded, and his round face bore Germanic features. He was from a small town on Sachgemäß, Noàgal, and he'd spent most of his life as a very successful officer in the Allied Fleet. Admiral Scheidecker gained popularity when he became a special advisor under President Norman eight years ago. Scheidecker disagreed with his Vice President on almost everything, that being the reason he'd chosen him for the position. The President didn't want a host of yes-men working for him; he wanted honest people who weren't afraid to speak their minds.
President Scheidecker smiled at the two newcomers and stood to greet them. "Welcome…Dr. Adams, we meet at last."
Amii sat down in the back of the room as Xander approached the men who held his fate in their hands. "The honor is mine, Mr. President." He bowed his head to them. "Mr. Vice President."
Scheidecker raised his eyebrow and smirked. "So, where's this damn android that the all of Astra's been waiting decades for with baited breath?"
Xander sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm still working on it. But I'm very close. I'll get it right. That's really all I can say."
Taylor glared at him. "Your deal with the PAU has put us in a very awkward position. How are we supposed to enter peace talks in good faith when one of our citizens has committed blatant treason?"
The scientist stared down at the floor and chewed on his lip. "It's not that simple, really. I did what I thought was best for my research."
"By stealing one of the most controlled substances in Astra? You're a criminal, Dr. Adams…not a scientist."
The President raised his hand toward his VP to relax. "We've been asked to extradite you to Kashtivone to be put on trial. As you can tell, the Vice President thinks that option would be in the best interest of peace. And I'm fairly inclined to agree with him. But I also know the PAU doesn't believe in justice. They want you for the same reason we've always wanted you…your mind, your work. The applications of android technology would be limitless. Our spy network would be more convincing and less risky; we could have fearless soldiers, lethal and deadly. Androids could replace humans in all dangerous jobs. The possibilities are endless."
Xander bit his tongue. "Yes, Mr. President." She knew how he felt about the AC using his creations as throwaways and how he'd rather die than let such a travesty unfold.
"So you see my dilemma," Scheidecker said. He stood and shuffled over to the window. "I can't hand you over to them and risk letting this technology fall into their hands. But I can't let you go on your merry way either. So, Dr. Adams, the choice is yours. You can go to one of our top-secret facilities to continue your research, where you'll operate in relative peace and have all your needs met. Or you can be imprisoned in Caldos Minor Penitentiary, where you'll never again see the light of day."
Caldos Minor…the mere name evoked fear in the decent. The labor camp was located on Zugzwang, the closest world to Noàgal. The sun never set there, nor did the tireless suffering of those sentenced to die on the half-molten rock.
All the hardened criminals of United Europe spent their last days on Caldos Minor. Those who labored hard at the mine were treated leniently. Those who did not were denied food and water until they complied or died. Life sentences were
carried out to the very letter of the law. Not all served life terms, and those who came back often had post-traumatic stress disorder. Surviving was as much a badge of courage as it was a stigma.
So she doubted the decision required much thought on his part.
Xander tapped his fingers against his leg. "Continuing my research is very important to me. If I could be allowed to finish my work, I would gladly do so."
The President nodded. "I hoped you would." He slid a comtab down the conference table toward the scientist. "I don't know exactly what your needs are, but hopefully one of these installations will be able to accommodate you."
"When do I have to make a decision?"
"I'm sending you to Icelandia for now. I'd like you to bring some of our scientists up to speed on your research so that we can ensure you have whatever you need. Your work has always been cutting edge and I think you'll find we're very eager to support it."
Icelandia—the southern polar continent. The UE had a fortified military facility located there. A choice between two different prisons was no choice at all.
Xander took the tablet computer and forced a smile. "Thank you, Mr. President. Thank you."
"There will be a transport outside waiting to escort you there. I hope the next time we speak, you'll have good news for me."
With that, he turned and strode back toward Amii, and they exited the room together. After the door closed behind him, he took her hand and strode down the corridor.
"Things really are as bad as I imagined them to be," he whispered, keeping his head down.
When he glanced at Amii, her expression turned somber. "I'm sorry, Xander."
"Don't be. Don't ever be." Stopping in his tracks, he took her by her shoulders and responded with conviction. "We'll get through this. Together."
***
Whenever Nadine roamed the halls of the Academy, she drew plenty of stares. As the most recognizable woman in the UE, attention gravitated toward her whether she wanted it or not. She had nothing to hide, striving for transparency in everything she did. Even her detractors commended her for that. Being the second lady meant living in a fishbowl for all of Chara to see.
Dr. Kyra Reboitz followed closely behind the second lady. She'd been one of the original scientists studying Nadine, and in many ways she was the closest female friend the psion had on New England. Nadine had gone from being little more than a lab animal to one of the main people directing the scientists in their research. As expected, the progression resulted in unspoken tension between them.
People could say otherwise, but the majority feared her—especially Dr. Reboitz, who knew what the powerful psion was capable of.
The small entourage marched toward the labs in the East wing. A long row of portraits lined the main hallway of the facility. Nadine led the way, her ruby dress a bold splash of color against the stark walls around her. The click of her stilettos on the hardwood floor echoed down the corridors, alerting everyone in the area to her presence as she passed. Each step brought her closer to her ultimate goal in life: to aid psions in every way possible.
They slipped into the psionic research laboratory. Nadine perched herself on a stool and laid her arm out for the injection. "I wanted to let you all know you've been doing some good work here. I've met a lot of grateful psions recently. This really is a thankless job, and I appreciate your dedication."
Dr. Roberts, the lead researcher, headed to the counter where he prepared a vial for injection. He flicked the syringe a few times and purged it of air. "It's in an alcohol base so this might hurt a little bit."
She bit her bottom lip. "That's doctor-speak for it's going to hurt a lot, right?"
He chuckled. "A minute maybe."
"That's what I thought." She took a deep breath. "I hate shots, but I'm ready."
Dr. Roberts approached her and wiped her forearm with an alcohol swab before making a quick injection. She focused on his head of pure white hair to distract her from the unpleasantness. The suspension went straight into her bloodstream without breaking her skin. After several moments, the fluid spread up her arm, scorching every cell as it flowed toward her heart. The drug burned like acid on fire, and she couldn't imagine a more horrible way to die.
Her face crumpled into a wince and her eyes clenched shut. "You weren't kidding," she said. "How long should it take to work?"
"A minute. Maybe two."
Every second of her discomfort dragged on in such a way that time had no meaning. The lasting sting consumed her entire body, and the pain brought a strong sense of vertigo. She dug her nails into her palms to quell the agony, but she barely felt them cut into her flesh. As it spread, it weakened, but the effect didn't subside soon enough. Instead, her head started to throb, her emotional state shot toward manic violence, and she lost control of her psionics.
"It's a potent dose," Dr. Reboitz said. "I'd imagine it's going to work fairly quickly since you're low on gammamine right now."
"If this works, we'll all be able to go on a long vacation," Dr. Roberts mused.
Open hostility churned in her mind with no apparent trigger, and she lashed out at him. "Why? Do you think a synthetic form of gammamine is the Holy Grail for psions?"
"Of course not," he said. "I meant no offense."
She stood and backed away from them, her eyes pulsating sorely. The compulsion to dive into his mind overpowered her poised demeanor. "Yes you did. You're tired of working on this project. You think it's a waste of time and money."
"Please, have a seat." Dr. Roberts urged her in mild embarrassment.
Dr. Reboitz furrowed her brow. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Do you have any idea how many innocent psions are suffering because of this garbage?" Nadine picked up a sink-full of glassware and smashed it on the floor. She didn't throw people's private thoughts into their faces, but her actions were out of her control. Suddenly, she winced and doubled over onto her knees, clenching her head in her hands to keep it from hitting the floor.
"Breathe, Nadine. Breathe. It's the drug. Tell us what's wrong."
After a few unsteady breaths, the excruciating pain diminished, and Nadine forced herself to look toward them. "My head feels like it's about to explode."
Dr. Roberts helped her back to the stool, where she sat down with her eyes still closed and her brows clenched. "The dose was too strong," he chided his colleague.
"It had to be strong. We need to see if this stuff is going to work on psions that are willing to kill for their next fix."
"Fine bit of good that did. You know there's no cutting corners when it comes to psionic pharmaceuticals."
"No one expected this sort of adverse reaction to the drug. What happened?" Dr. Reboitz asked her.
Nadine focused onto the floor to keep her thoughts grounded in reality and fought the lingering urge to invade their privacy once more. "I felt compelled to use my powers. I lost control. Of my emotions. Of my will power. And now I feel more drained than ever."
"You were planning on stopping by the hospital before you leave, correct?"
She nodded, the effects of the drug lingering like a bad hangover.
Dr. Reboitz gestured toward the door. "Why don't I take you there…"
After several calming inhalations, Nadine stood and exited the room. She took an immediate left and plunged outside into the bright afternoon. Her heels sank into the damp earth as she hurried through the grass, and she tried not to twist an ankle wresting them free. The doctor caught up to her, and two of them made their way across campus to the Academy Hospital.
The Palmer Institute might be the foremost research facility in the AC, but the Academy was a solid runner-up. The Academy lured the best and brightest with hefty research grants. United Europe's dedication to technological advancement had grown considerably over the past decade resulting in a caste of nouveau riche savants. The younger generation's push toward meritocracy gained momentum and would someday be a reality.
The Academy was located in St. Iv
es, hundreds of miles away from Northampton on a temperate coast in an ideal setting. Year-round temperatures hovered on idyllic, flowers bloomed with constant regularity, and the sunny days outnumbered the gloomy ones. The wealthy owned seaside homes, and many had not yet migrated back north from their winter respite. Every building had been painted the same eggshell color topped by black, tile roofs embedded with solar crystals. Another distinguishing feature was the streets—paved with burgundy-brown maghemite when other hover-compliant roads used black magnetite. Everything had been funded by the wealthy inhabitants' strict homeowners association, not government loans.
Unfortunately, Nadine could not admire the scenic landscape around her. Earlier in the day, she hadn't been able to take her eyes off the lush view of the ocean from here, but the drug scrambled her thoughts and pushed them to a sociopathic verge. She found it difficult to stave off the urge to force herself into the doctor's mind. The drug altered her brain chemistry and removed all inhibition. It took every shred of willpower to stave off the effects and retain her sanity, and she wondered if Aliane felt this way all the time. She squinted into the sun and covered her eyes so her friend wouldn't see their wicked glow.
When a lady walked by in a catsuit, Nadine watched her until she disappeared. After two weeks, she already missed Amii more than she ever thought she would. The woman was a blank slate of innocent illusions untainted by suspicious desperation. Xander enlisting her help meant her intelligence was unparalleled, and her pretty face didn't hurt either. An unimposing nature imbued her with curiosity and charm. Coming from anyone else, the attitude would feel contrived, but it fit her because nothing else did.
Nadine's fascination with the woman went beyond the mundane. She never could read Amii's thoughts, and the sensation was as unsettling as over-the-top public displays of affection. Everyone had an inherent psychic aura, including many animals. On their way to Northampton, Nadine concluded it was more than a glitch due to her amnesia. Genetic variation seemed the only logical answer. The ramifications for humanity would be profound if scientists could unravel the mystery. However, she couldn't subject her friend to medical scrutiny; she'd been down that road and she'd wish that experience on no one even if it did benefit society as a whole.
