by Astrid Amara
“And what about the Peak?” I asked.
“The what?” Tiergan asked.
“They’re on some sort of drug,” Mack supplied. “It’s highly addictive and seems to give them unnatural strength and a sense of euphoria.”
“Makes sense,” Levi said. “Gives Trust a way to control them.”
“I’m standing right here, you know,” I growled.
Mack reached over and ran his hand over my hip. “Sorry, baby.”
“So the Peak isn’t the cause of my memory loss,” I clarified. “It’s this chip in my head.”
Tiergan shrugged. “Honestly? I haven’t studied the drug or its effects, and I can’t imagine a decade of being on a highly addictive narcotic did your brain any good. But is it the primary culprit for your amnesia? No.”
“And if you erase the chip, he’ll get his memories back?” The hopefulness in Mack’s voice was almost heartbreaking. His eyes even got a little watery.
“That’s the theory.” Tiergan offered me a smile.
I frowned back. “This is all theoretical?”
“We’ve never gotten our hands on one of the controller chips before,” Tiergan admitted. “I’ve had the technology explained to me by someone in Trust Technical, but we’re in uncharted territory here.”
“So what’s your plan?” I asked. “Switch the button, send out a signal, and give all agents back their memories?”
“Something like that.” Tiergan smiled. “Ideally, with a full audience of reporters and media. And members of the Unified Colonies oversight committee who have had suspicions regarding Trust’s enormous powers to see the effects firsthand. Your average person doesn’t even know that Trust, the company that provides life insurance, also backs governments, corporations, and military efforts. Those that do, they don’t know how Trust recruits, trains, or employs their agents. The secrets are deep, and buried intentionally.
“If it was made public that Trust swindled life insurance customers into an army of indentured servants whom they controlled with implants and drugs to complete their nefarious tasks in the name of the highest paying clients, they’d be shut down and prosecuted. We’ve tried for twenty years, but Trust has powerful friends, and the politicians and legal representatives who could press charges themselves benefit from Trust policies. We’re trying to break a very old, entrenched, and powerful—”
“What do you mean swindled life insurance customers?” Mack interrupted.
Tiergan blinked. “Sorry. Did you not know how Ivo got conscripted in the first place?”
Mack and I shared a look.
Tiergan cleared his throat. “You signed a life insurance policy, Ivo. Or someone signed one for you when you were a minor. It amounted to an enormous payout upon your death, but one of the hidden clauses was that Trust had the legal right to resurrect you from death and use you for labor until such time that your debt to the company is paid off. In my case, I had ninety-nine years of servitude required to pay out all the costs of resurrecting me repeatedly, in addition to the money my family received on my death.”
“But you escaped,” I said.
Levi snorted. “No. I paid.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. My family is dead, and the only person who would ever be on a policy of mine would be Mack.”
“And I sure as hell didn’t get a shit-ton of money when you died,” Mack added.
“Could it have been Calypso Recon?” I asked. “Maybe they took it out on their soldiers.”
Levi shook his head. “They wouldn’t claim insurance on all their soldiers. That would be too costly. Even if you were special, which obviously you were. I could look up the contract if you wish. One of our contacts has access to Trust files. I could see who your beneficiary is. It’s the only way that Trust can legally use your services.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding at Levi. “If you can figure it out, let me know.”
“Until then,” Rosslyn interrupted, obviously not liking the turn of the conversation, “we have more pressing matters to discuss, like the operations tomorrow morning.” She nodded to the device. “Are you certain we can widen the signal?”
Mack nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem. There will be hundreds of reporters gathered at the starting zone of the Farmers Parade. Levi’s audience of media will be assumed to be in attendance for the parade, and some extra signal dishes won’t seem out of the ordinary.”
“There’s a parade tomorrow?” I asked, confused.
Mack gave me a sad look. “You don’t remember? The Farmer’s Parade down the Beltway? We used to always go and get stuffed on free food samples along the route. You once stole a hot corn on the cob. You got detention for it.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t remember any of that, although the image of a parade filled my head. “So your plan is to send the signal out in the midst of the parade?”
Mack looked at the others sharply, then nodded. “Yes. The dishes will enhance the signal and reach the Agent Detention Center located in the Trust Building four blocks away.”
As Mack and the others discussed the details for their attack the following day, I focused on the notion that I was some sort of indentured servant. I mulled that over, trying to pick through memories to corroborate such a statement, but my head throbbed, pain radiating from behind my eyes outward. I couldn’t even consider my own implants without it hurting.
But the idea that my memories, while shuttered, were present, reassured me. Then again, if what Tiergan and Levi said was true, I wasn’t sure how many of the memories of the last ten years I particularly wanted to recall. Indentured servant didn’t sound like a party.
Mack and the others agreed to meet at the parade start near the primary train station tomorrow morning at ten. That would give Mack half an hour to get set up before the parade began. The revs shook hands, smiled at one another, congratulating themselves on finally getting the chip they’d needed all this time.
My skin crawled. I stood rigid, hiding my discomfort. Rosslyn left, wishing the rest of her team luck. But before the others continued, Tiergan approached me cautiously.
“Mack told me you have a broken finger,” he said in his lilting accent.
I glanced down at my splinted thumb. “It’s not a big deal.” I thought, they’ll fix it when I get back to the station. But I hate the station.
“I can bond the bone easily,” Tiergan said. “It’ll take a minute.”
He gently unwrapped my splint and positioned my thumb on the table. Tiergan stared at my thumb intently. As I watched, his left pupil dilated, and a metal lens rotated inside his eye.
“This may sting,” Tiergan cautioned. A small beam of light shot from his eye. My skin began to burn.
“That’s so fucking cool!” Mack offered from the sidelines. “I’ve always wanted one.”
“It hurts,” Tiergan replied, eye never wavering from my thumb. “So unless you use it for medical reasons, I suggest you skip this particular enhancement.”
“Can Ivo’s enhanced hand do the same thing?” Mack asked.
“My laser isn’t for healing,” I said. “Sorry.” The burning sensation grew almost unbearable.
Mack shrugged. “Still cool though.”
Tiergan blinked, and the laser shut off. I gratefully pulled my hand back. I flexed my thumb carefully. It hurt, but it moved.
“I wouldn’t use it immediately,” Tiergan said. He scrubbed his fist over his eye as if it bothered him. “Give it a week or two to heal naturally, but at least the bone is bonded.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Tiergan reached out and squeezed my shoulder. I had to repress every instinct I had to hit him. “It’s the least I can do for a fellow Trust victim. We’re going to shut those fuckers down, Ivo.”
I nodded but backed away. I didn’t want to think about it. My mind churned. I felt no connection to Tiergan or his stories. My only sense of belonging was to Peak and the rules of Trust. There was comfort in the known.
&nb
sp; Mack exchanged a few hushed words with Levi and Tiergan as they departed. I wanted to switch off my thoughts, but they came at me now, frantic and confused. What was this about a life insurance policy? My parents were long dead. If there was a policy on me, it must have been from when I’d been a boy, no older than five…
My stomach lurched. I needed to get away from this information, from the revs, from the past. I needed to get away from Mack.
I pushed from the wall and fumbled for Carly’s lead. “I gotta let Carly out. I’ll be back.”
Mack eye flashed with alarm. “Ivo? What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. “Dog has to take a piss.” I looped the string carefully around Carly’s neck. My hand trembled again.
Mack grabbed my arm. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t…” My words cracked as they came out. “It’s too much to take in.”
His expression softened, and he let go of me.
I pulled Carly out the door and down the elevator, through the pastel lobby, and onto the street.
The market outside the hotel was closed for the evening, but there were a few food vendors operating on the outskirts. The illuminated panels in the roadways lit the entire area. A few cars and dune buggies rolled past, and I crossed the street to avoid a couple laughing as they walked toward the hotel.
The buildings in Alspree were all clean and well-maintained, most bearing the logo of one of the main corporations that ran Calypso. This was their world. We were all pawns within it.
There was little vegetation in this part of the biosphere, so I led Carly over to a gravel square where vendors temporarily set up during the day. As she squatted to pee, I glanced around, making sure I wasn’t followed, and called Trust.
I didn’t think about it. I simply reported what I’d heard. I told them to be on the watch for Mack and his co-conspirators at the entrance of the Trust Center courtyard at ten. I turned my mind off, my heart off. I was nothing. I wasn’t an indentured servant, or a former soldier, or even a top-ranked sharpshooter trying to up his kill stats. I was doing my job. That’s all I had, all I knew.
Carly sniffed around some more, but at twenty-two hundred the rains turned on in the biodome, and I took her back to the hotel before we got drenched. I let myself into the room. The lights were low. Mack had cleaned off the table so that only the device he built remained. He must have taken a shower, because his hair was damp, and he wore only a pair of white underwear. He also had an open bottle of wine. He sat on the bed, looking sad.
“Hey, cowboy.”
“Getting drunk without me?” I tried a smile. It didn’t feel natural.
He studied my face. “You okay?”
I shrugged. “Not really.”
“I know.”
“I can’t… I don’t want to believe any of it.”
His expression softened. “I know.” He patted the space beside him on the bed. Carly yanked the leash out of my hand and jumped on the bed. Mack petted her gently, smiling. “Not you, ugly.”
I undid my boots and crawled into bed. The two of us sat there, shoulder to shoulder, both petting Carly, not saying anything. I didn’t want to be his friend anymore. I didn’t want to think about what I’d done.
Mack passed me his wine glass and I drank. I wanted to drink the whole fucking bottle.
But I handed back the glass. “I need to sleep,” I told him, though I was wide awake and unlikely to get any more rest until the raid tomorrow.
Mack cupped the side of my face. “We good?”
I hated how well he could read me. I nodded stiffly, then turned and closed my eyes. I felt him lean forward, felt his warm lips brush my neck. I squirmed under the covers, not bothering with undressing. I should have been luxuriating in the first bed in a week.
Longer than that, I thought, but then pain racked my brain and I shook my head. Stop thinking. Stop thinking.
“Ivo?” Mack whispered. I felt him maneuver under the covers as well and spoon me in his embrace. “I want you to know, whatever happens tomorrow, that I love you. Always have, always will.”
I stared at the door to the bathroom. “I… I can’t say the same thing yet.”
He kissed the back of my head. “It’s okay.”
“But thank you,” I said hoarsely. “For everything.”
His arms tightened around me. “Sleep.”
Chapter Nine
Everything’s a Mess
I had nightmares.
I lay on my belly in a field of wheat. I had a rifle in my hands, and I aimed at a group of men, too far to make out their faces, but close enough through the scope to aim.
I shot one of the men, and he turned to face me. I saw it was Mack, and my whole body began to shake.
I turned over, weeping, begging for it to not be real. Someone yanked my right leg by the knee and started to twist it off. I shouted for them to stop. The pain was unbearable. They yanked and tugged at it, pulling the joint apart. Then someone shot at my knee with an energy rifle and pain shot through my entire torso. I shuddered.
I woke, breathing hard. Mack and Carly slept, one on each side of me, both with their mouths open.
Mack shifted around in his sleep. I lay there, watching him wrestle with his own nighttime demons. Only Carly seemed to rest peacefully this night, little paws pressed against my chest.
I pulled her close and rested my nose against her neck. She smelled clean and sweet. Tears came to my eyes.
You fucking idiot.
I lay there, trying to return to sleep, but now that I awoke, sleep wouldn’t return. I checked my osys and saw I had a message from Agent 390. Message received, it said. We’ll meet you at the station.
I swallowed, feeling sick.
I reminded myself that the sweet embrace of Peak was only hours away. I wouldn’t have to worry about the guilt I felt, the grief of losing these two warm bodies on either side of me. This wasn’t a new life, I reminded myself. This was the result of one week in the dunes, that was all. It wasn’t real.
Real was the sour explosion of joy in my mouth. Real was the gun in my hand, ready to do as ordered. Orders had no conscience.
Mack shifted, squirmed, then woke, blinking at me in the darkness. “Hey,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.
I continued to hold Carly in the dark. “Go back to sleep. We have hours until daylight.”
He sat up and rubbed his face. “I will if you will.”
I stared at the ceiling. But out of the corner of my eye I could see him studying me with a frown. “What are you thinking?”
“You always know,” I croaked, my voice thick with regret.
He shook his head. “Not right now. I can’t read you, and it’s scaring me.”
I swallowed. “You really believe all this?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Resurrected from the dead for a life insurance policy?” I shook my head. “Give me a break.”
Mack huffed. He propped his pillow behind him against the wall and sat up. “Okay, then you explain how come you were dead, and now you are alive.”
I sat up as well. “I must not have been dead.”
“I saw you,” Mack said. “I saw you, and you were dead. Do you think I wouldn’t have stapled myself to your side if you were merely unconscious?”
I shook my head, not because I didn’t believe him. Because I didn’t want to believe him.
Mack touched my shoulder. “And what Tiergan says about your memory? Isn’t that the best possible explanation for ten years of memory loss?”
I shrugged. “It think it's the Peak. It’s got to be. I—”
“One way to test it, baby. Right here, right now.”
A shudder of fear ran down my spine. “What?”
Mack nodded to the device on the table. “That transmitter works wirelessly for a short range.”
I bolted out of bed. “No.” I started sweating. Something slick and awful coiled around in my stomach.
“Come
on,” Mack encouraged, standing as well. “Don’t you want to know?”
What if I don’t? I thought. What if I don’t want to remember?
He walked, clad only in underwear, over to the table and grabbed the transmitter. He stared at me as if his whole world hinged on whether I said yes or no.
“How do we know if it’s safe?” I stuttered. “Maybe we should—”
“Ivo.” Mack pointed it at me. “Say yes.”
I licked my lips. “I don’t—”
“Say yes.”
“Yes.”
I tried to take the word back. But Mack pressed down the small circular button on the box.
Something cracked inside my head.
It sounded like a bone snapping. A warm, shocking feeling filled my head. Electrical zaps, painless triggers of sensation, and then at once—
Everything.
The years. Years of sleeping in a box. Years of shitting myself, crying from withdrawal, begging for hits. Crawling out of my box to complete assassinations for doses of Peak.
I shot a man in a train. A woman and her two children in their house. Three prisoners in the inmate meeting area. Two men in a cafeteria. A banker in an office. The family of a diplomat. A man in a bathroom. Two women at a party. A diplomat in a fancy car. Seven men in a train car. Twelve revs in a house. Sixteen revs in a jail cell. A woman in a buggy.
I gagged, my stomach twisted in knots. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. I fell to my knees and retched. All those faces, all those fucking faces.
And my own misery—crying for hits, desperate for Peak, willing to do anything, endure anything. I had gone through withdrawal dozens of times over the last decade, as punishment, as practice, it was always used against me. It was my motivator, my reward, my inspiration, my torment.
“Jesus!” I heard Mack rush to the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth, and placed it against my mouth. He rubbed my back. “Ivo, baby, talk to me.”
But what could I say that would explain the horror of these images?
I had died. More than once. I had my leg blown off from a grenade by a group of revs after I’d assassinated a member of their cell. I’d begged to be left to die. They restarted my heart, flooded my body with Peak, and rebuilt my leg.
