A brusque knock at the door jolted her out of her reverie. She jerked up with a splash and snapped her eyes open.
“You ready, Ms. Crane?” Tyers called from the other side of the door.
“Yes. Right there,” she responded and pulled herself unsteadily out of the water to dry and dress. When she saw the clothes Tyers had selected for her, she frowned. He’d left her a Com-Center uniform to wear. As she felt the soft crimson fabric and brought it to her nose, inhaling its freshly laundered scent, a whole new jangle of memories scudded in like missals that knocked her off balance. She leaned back against the wall to steady herself, feeling a sudden splintering pain rip through her arm, and saw spots in front of her eyes.
Once dressed, Julie opened the door with her left hand, her old clothes tucked under that arm. Tyers stood up from the same chair she’d sat in before and his mouth twitched as he appraised her, obviously enjoying the view. She was too annoyed to blush. “Why this?” she demanded, looking from the uniform to his face. “I don’t work in your Com-Center anymore.”
“It matches the fire in your eyes,” he teased, then added, “The colour red suits you,” and used the excuse to look her over more.
She held out her soiled clothes. “I’d like these cleaned and returned to me.”
“Why?” he asked, eyeing them with distaste. He added to her slight dismay, “You won’t be needing them again.”
She brought the clothes close to her face to take in the tantalizing scent of seasoned leather. “I just...want them. I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Good, considering how you like to end your arguments,” he said with a smirk. He’d obviously alluded to her shooting Frank during their quarrel in the Den so long ago. Tyers swung his arm in an arc around the room. “You were asking about the Head Pol...This is his office and suite.”
Yes, it had been familiar. She’d never come in through the door, always by lift. Clutching her old clothes against her chest, Julie observed that the new Head Pol had thoroughly redecorated. Gone were Kraken’s antique wooden furniture and bookshelf, his classic sculptures and paintings. They’d been replaced with modern designs, sleek black leather furniture, abstract art and stark white walls. The new Head Pol had traded the romance of regal tradition with elegant but stark reality.
“Someone’s anxious to meet you.” The smirk became more pronounced. “An old friend.”
She did a quick rundown of who she might still know in Icaria. She had no friends left here. At least not live ones. The locked door to her left opened and Julie came face to face with a ghost.
“Hi, Julie,” Frank said. He was looking very much alive for someone who should have died from Darwin eleven years ago. He was dressed in a black Pol uniform and wasn’t wearing a helmet. She thought him thinner and lankier than she’d remembered him. Frank appraised her whole body, undressing her with his eyes, glanced briefly at the clothes she clutched, then rested his gaze on her face with a smirk. That recklessly handsome face had definitely aged since she’d last seen him. He’d let his dark hair grow long and had it pulled back in a ponytail. It gave his thin face a severe quality that brought out the coldness in his sea-blue eyes and a lingering bitterness in his sardonic mouth. She thought he resembled an undernourished timber wolf. “You look great,” he said, lips tugging into a leer.
“So do you...” she lied and felt her voice break up and drift away in pieces. The fire that smouldered in her arm flared up into her face as though she’d just walked into a wall of flames. Then she was falling and everything faded into blackness.
13
They’d walked four days and Daniel felt his breaths drag through him like a hollow wind. “Slow down, Angel,” he called out, annoyed at her sprinting ahead of him like a white-tailed deer. He walked gingerly to keep his blisters from pinching his heels. “Isn’t it lunch time by now?” he said, stopping to catch his breath.
She turned to face him with a look of impatience. “Come on, Dad,” she insisted. But she stayed put and let him catch up. “You look like an old man,” she said rather disrespectfully, he thought.
“How do you know this is still the way?” he asked, having long forgotten the way back to Icaria. “We haven’t seen the river since yesterday afternoon.”
“It fits,” she said matter-of-factly. “Look over there. See all those scree slopes. They’re part of a major system of ancient alluvial fans when the river was in a different place from now. We’re still close to the big river that flows from Lake Ontario into the Atlantic Ocean. It’s just over that ridge there, I bet.”
“Smart aleck,” he muttered and pulled out a chunk of rabbit jerky from his pack and chewed. When he’d admitted finally to Angel that he wasn’t certain of the most expeditious route, she’d insisted on leading the way. Aard had shown her maps and educated her about the terrain. Although Daniel had found it odd that Aard would have given her that particular information, perhaps Aard had used it as a way to teach Angel navigation and orienteering; he was certainly grateful for it now.
Angel impressed her father by keeping up a ruthless pace and hiking a relentless fourteen hours a day. While he felt exhausted after ten hours, he refused to be the limiting factor and pushed himself to keep up with his spry daughter. She’d kept them on a grueling schedule, hiking across streams and gullies, through forest, bog and marsh. This rescue mission was killing him, he thought, reminded of the painful blisters on his feet and the gashes he’d received when he’d fallen several times, trying to follow his nimble daughter through steep hogbacks and gullies. He never could control any of his women, Daniel lamented. Why should Angel be any different.
When Angel saw that his breathing had returned to normal, she sprinted off again along the deer trail she’d discovered, leaving him behind as usual. With a resigned smile at his energetic daughter, Daniel hiked his heavy backpack over his shoulder and trudged after her. He wondered if Julie had walked this very deer trail and couldn’t help searching for any sign as he followed Angel up a scree slope of loose talus.
She’d stopped at the crest and waited for him to scramble up beside her. Below them a dried creek bed wove its way through a steep ravine and more scree rose on the other side. Great, Daniel thought, heaving in a long breath and mentally preparing himself to climb more loose talus.
“Let’s stop and eat here, Dad. I’m hungry.”
He smiled at her in silent appreciation. Angel had her limits after all. They ate from their store, which served a dual purpose of lightening his heavy backpack over time and making good time without needing to stop to hunt, forage and trap, which no doubt had slowed down Julie’s pace considerably. Daniel had noted that she hadn’t taken much from their supplies. Just a few essentials. She’d expected to support herself entirely and he had no doubt in her abilities to accomplish this. If not for her pursuers, she was capable of living indefinitely off the land.
For an Icarian technophile who’d relied on her house droids for food, clothing and the comforts of home, Julie had cheerfully and competently embraced her life in the wilderness. Daniel never would have thought that a veemeld who epitomized the virtual world of human melding with the machines of Icaria would take quite so well to living in the harsh reality of the wilds. Not only had she fully complemented his skills and become his ideal helpmate, but she’d also been his constant companion in the heath. Was that the real reason he was chasing after her? Because without her, there was no point in living out here? What fear was driving him? It wasn’t so much fear for her welfare; if she was in trouble he wasn’t going to make a difference. No, it was the same old fear, the fear of losing her to the lure of that exciting technological world. Losing her to SAM. She’d never spoken about SAM, but Daniel knew she must have missed it—him—whatever. How couldn’t she have, though? She’d had SAM “living” in her head, sharing her most private thoughts for years. Ironic, Daniel pondered, how Julie could be so reclusive with peopl
e, yet so openly share herself with a machine.
After Angel chased down the rabbit jerky she was chewing on with some of her dad’s unleavened cornbread and a drink from her canteen, she abruptly wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. “What’s that awful smell?” she asked.
Daniel sniffed too. “It’s just the Spirea. They give off a strong fragrance.”
“More like a dead animal,” Angel countered, frowning. “You need to get your nose fixed if you can’t smell that, Dad,” she said, shaking her head at him, and raised her brows for emphasis.
He shrugged and gave her a lame grin. Like her mother, her sense of smell was far superior to his. With a sigh, Daniel searched yet again for any sign of Julie having passed through here.
That was when he saw the body.
He stiffened with alarm then quickly ruled out Julie. From what he could see under the Spirea bush near the creek bed some fifty meters away, it was a man’s body. Angel sat cross-legged facing Daniel and therefore had no idea what he was trying not to look at.
“I need to pee,” he suddenly said, failing to keep his voice calm. “Don’t look.”
“I won’t,” she said with a smile of amusement. “But you better go!”
He scrambled down to the dead man’s body and, after a glance back at Angel still sitting with her back to him, Daniel bent to take a closer look. He’d been shot in the chest. Once. Had Julie done this? The process of decay was well advanced thanks to the summer heat. Flies and gnats buzzed and crawled over the rotting flesh, which gave off an incredibly offensive odor. He stumbled back, gagging. Holding his hand over his nose and mouth, Daniel scurried back to Angel.
“It’s time to go,” he said brusquely to Angel’s bewilderment. Shrugging into his heavy backpack, Daniel added. “Let’s go that way.” That way led far away from where the body lay. As they walked in solemn silence, Daniel reviewed what he’d seen. Judging from his clothes, Daniel concluded that the dead man came from Icaria recently. No doubt one of Julie’s pursuers. And she’d neatly dispatched him. She was a dead shot, after all, usually catching her prey on her first try. Was this where she’d been seized? If they got her she must have been taken by surprise, he thought, thinking of her gun and the dead man. Nevertheless, he searched as discreetly as he could for signs of further struggles.
Angel shouted excitedly from the top, “Look!” She pointed to the other side at something he could not see. Alarm spiked and clenched his heart. He quickly reminded himself that, according to Angel, Julie had been taken to Icaria, so she wouldn’t be lying there. “Hurry, Dad!” Angel shot down the other side.
“Angel, no! Wait!” he shrilled. When he crested the rise, chest heaving, he stared. Glinting in the sun with Angel stroking its smooth surface, was a skyship.
14
Julie walks SAM’s cold matrix with unease. No longer sparkling, the crystal walkway under her feet ripples as if alive and she feels her stomach twist with alarm. As the cloying wind blows into her face like an old man’s putrid breath, Julie knows she will see the dark figure again. Feet moving mechanically, against her will, she rounds the corner and encounters the dark figure. It beckons her and she recoils, but skids uncontrollably forward. Trying not to look into the shadowy face, she demands in a splintering voice, What do you want with me?
[You must not struggle, Julie Crane. It is time to complete the joining...]
Never! Leave me alone! Shuddering, she’s drawn nearer to the figure still. Its arms reach out for her and she cringes, knowing somehow that if it touches her she will perish. The cowl of the figure’s robe falls back, revealing its face. Her own face, strangely distorted. NO!
Julie bolted awake to her own outcry. Blinking away the sleep and sweat clouding her vision, she realized that she was lying on a comfortable bed, covered in soft sheets. Heart still pounding, she pulled in a ragged breath as she untangled the turmoil of post-dream emotions that poured through her. That had been less a dream than vision...or communication. A jolt of adrenalin surged up her chest. If that was Darwin creeping unbidden into her mind, intruding...What did Proteus want?
Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she raised herself on an elbow and surveyed herself and the room. She was wearing a silky nightdress and she wasn’t in a Med-Center. The room was too nice, containing expensive furniture and personally decorated with art. She saw a desk with a Vee-com, and a glass door to a patio outside, revealing a sunny day. There was no sign of her old heath clothes. They’d probably been recycled, she thought sadly.
Julie sat up, feeling completely strengthened. A quick inspection revealed that her arm was totally healed. Nuergery and Icaria’s wonderful nano-drugs, no doubt. She ran her hands over her bare arms and legs and confirmed nuyu-smooth skin. Cuts, tears and scars had been healed and she was smoother than she’d ever been. She was reminded of the first time she’d been treated without being asked, when she’d been brought back to the outer-city after searching unsuccessfully for her lost sister. They’d straightened her teeth then. She wondered what they’d done to her this time. Coloured her hair? She pulled a strand in front of her eyes to inspect and smiled with relief. No, they’d left her sun-streaked hair alone.
As she focused outward she noticed someone seated quietly in a chair near one of two closed doors. It was Frank. Arms folded over his chest and one leg crossed loosely over his thigh, he was looking directly at her with a thoughtful look and eyes the colour of a stormy sea. He smiled cautiously when he noticed her looking at him.
She tilted her head and returned his smile with a wry one. “You the guard?”
He smirked. “To keep the notorious Julie Crane from rampaging Icaria, you mean?”
She let her smile fade. “Something like that.” The last time she’d seen him, she had been tearing around Icaria and half the Pols chasing her, with Frank, barely mended from her shot, leading the pack.
He nodded soberly then turned the chair around and sat down again, folding his arms over the backrest. “Wrong. Like you were about a lot of things back then.”
“So it seems,” she returned, thinking about Darwin. Was it possible she’d misread him that time when he and Vadim’s gang had cornered her and Daniel in that inner-city mall?
“Oh, I had Darwin, all right,” he answered her unspoken question with a glower. “Pretty bad, too. But miracles do happen in Icaria.”
She wondered how that had been possible. Had Burke managed to find a cure that fast? The bitterness she’d detected in Frank’s voice...Did he blame her for his sickness?
“So,” he said with a frosty smile, “imagine my delight the day I dutifully gave Burke your data cube and discovered that I’d been infected with Darwin by none other than Prometheus herself.”
“Frank, I didn’t know until after we broke up that I was Prometheus...and I don’t think I passed it—”
“Yes, the woman who willingly exchanged her bodily fluids with me for months without telling me that she had Darwin “
“I didn’t know!”
“Then left me once she was sure I was dying from it.” He leaned forward. “You knew all the signs, sweetheart.” His smile grew surly. “Elegant revenge—I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
They’d each had reason to invoke revenge: Frank’s father had arrested hers for a murder he didn’t commit, and Julie’s father had supposedly incriminated his as a Dystopian, which he wasn’t. Both had died maligned.
She gave up trying to convince him that she hadn’t known. The information on the cube had incriminated her. She’d have a hard time proving that she’d only discovered herself that she was Prometheus after they’d broken up. SAM had provided evidence to suggest that she couldn’t pass it on. But Frank wouldn’t listen to that; he was too set on blaming her. And maybe he was right.
“But, just like you escaped execution, I escaped death. Not only did I defeat Darwin in me,” he went on, “I’m now
the Head Pol.” He laughed sharply at her stunned expression. “So, no harm done, eh?” he ended in a mock cavalier voice. She had no response for that and bowed her head.
After some silence, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
She looked up to meet his eyes. “Much better, thank you,” she said honestly and searched his face for genuine forgiveness. She couldn’t find it.
“That was some nightmare you just had,” he said, obviously expecting her to elaborate.
She didn’t. “How long have I been here?”
“Since yesterday. You were in the Pielou Med-Center for two days until I had you returned here. Don’t you remember anything?”
She blinked with a thoughtful frown and let her gaze drift as she sifted through fragments of memories...or dreams...or feverish visions...it was hard to separate them, they all ran together like a water-colour painting left in the rain. They churned in a maelstrom of burning images and sensations. Blistering pain flaming through her—that was real. Bright lights hurting her eyes...foreign faces peering at her and discussing her by name ...sighing into a soft pillow and being held in a warm embrace...inhaling a man’s scent...hearing Daniel’s soothing whispers—that had to be a dream...or was it? Her narrowed eyes snapped to Frank’s.
“Seems you do remember,” he said with a smirk as her expression of confusion bloomed into distress with understanding. “That’s my bed you’re in,” he ended, openly appraising her with smug pleasure. “This is my office suite and you bathed in my bathtub.” He pointed to the other door. But he was looking elsewhere.
She followed his devouring gaze to where her skimpy nightdress revealed the contours of her breasts. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she brought the sheet up over her. As if in response to her action, his eyes narrowed. Was he insulted by her sudden coyness? During their torrid affair years ago when he was a Pol in the Shadow Unit, he had never taken her home. Now she was lying in his bed. Had he lain beside her delirious body last night? And touched her? Of course he had. She felt her anger spike like a hot knife twisting inside her. “You took advantage of me.”
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