Nara

by M. L. Buchman

  She reached for him and he leapt like a sprinter leaving the blocks. Through the stream, down the trail. Turned aside by every branch that lashed at him. Fighting for every breath, every step. A squirrel burst across the trail, startled from its nest, narrowly escaped. He plunged into a cul-de-sac of twisted branches. He turned at bay as Ri came trotting smoothly up the trail with all the ease and grace of a practiced runner. She stopped, blocking the only exit.

  She waited him out in silence until the poisons built to toxic levels and words slashed out from him.

  “Bryce Sr. used that power of observation to manipulate people. He killed Emilia as surely as if he’d pulled the trigger and shoved her out some airlock himself. He twisted my mother, my poor innocent mother. She fought. She fought so hard. But she’s dead like all the others. And you want me to…” He ran down unable to complete the sentence.

  “But wasn’t there any good in him? Something you could admire?”

  He could only shake his head like a bull confused by the matador into immobility. There was much to respect, too much perhaps, but which were Bryce’s thoughts and which were his parent’s? Bryce Sr. had fought ruthlessly for his ideals: a better, healthier, more peaceful race.

  And he’d destroyed every person in his path, friend, foe, and innocent alike. He’d rammed a billion people into their graves. They’d tested positive for potential hereditary disease or latent criminality by his vaunted Second Human Genome Mapping Project.

  “Bryce? Talk to me. Please.”

  When his eyes focused on her face, he saw so much compassion and sympathy, despite who he was. But she didn’t know what he was. His knees gave way. She knelt before him but remained silent.

  He ran a finger along the fine line of her cheek. She closed her eyes against the sensation. When he stopped, she reopened those dark wells to her soul. It wasn’t against the sensation. It was because of it. She took his hand, but it was too much. He pulled back, but she wouldn’t let him go.

  “I grew up in his house, his favorite dancing doll. Wind me up and I’m wholly predictable. I’m a copy. My memories are his. I’m nothing but an imprint fresh off the press of the cruelest man who ever lived.” He threw the words at her to push her away, but she didn’t move, or release him.

  “I’m a goddamn clone, Ri. A clone of the world’s dictator. Personally responsible for over a billion deaths. And the worst part is I remember it all. Every order. Every command. Every insanely justified decision. I’m stuck with his memories, too. Implanted. They roar. They cry to be released. I remember poisoning James Wirden, twisting Celia Wirden, possessing her body and soul, doing my damnedest to drive my birth-mother to her grave. God, Ri. Suzie Jeffers was such a great lady. I wish you’d known her.” It was true, too. They would have lik—

  “What’s wrong? Ri? I didn’t know you could get so pale.” Her liquid eyes so wide they were nearly round.

  “You’re the son?”

  He nodded his head. Son of the Old Bastard. Grandson. Clone. Didn’t matter what he was called.

  She pulled away ever so slowly. Each tiny withdrawal felt like a condemnation of his soul.

  Then he noticed the tears.

  Tears flowed down her face as she covered her head with her arms and curled into a small ball. Sobs racked her beyond any sense.

  At last he could stand it no longer and gathered her into his arms. She turned into his shoulder and shook as new cries wracked her frame. Her words were garbled beyond comprehension as they spilled out of her. Gulping air between outbursts she finally ended up giving herself the hiccups.

  He couldn’t help laughing to see Security Chief Ri brought so low that she could do little more than hiccup and weep. At last she was reduced to just the occasional gasp for breath.

  She ran a hand lightly down his chest, as if pawing him gently.

  “Oh, Bryce.” She paused. “I’m so sorry. I… I killed your mother. I killed the Angel-lady.” She hung her head and leaned against him until the top of her head was pressed against the center of his chest.

  Bryce pictured Suzie as he’d last seen her. Immaculate white suit, flowing blond hair, stepping from his shuttle off to tackle the morning. Angel-lady. It was a good description.

  “Hey,” he grabbed Ri’s chin and forced her to look at him. “What do you mean you killed her?”

  She shook her head. “Angel-lady never told me who she was. She lived in a palace in Bermuda. I lived there when I wasn’t training with Levan. Until I killed her.”

  She tried to go fetal again, but he wouldn’t let her.

  He could hardly believe his ears—first the story of Suzie and Levan kidnapping Ri from the ruins of Japan. Then the story of Suzie and Ri’s last fight in the ruins of Nara trying to rescue the tattered remains of Ri’s Cadre.

  His mother hadn’t been cowed by the Old Man. She’d done amazing things.

  But Ri didn’t stop.

  “I killed us, too. She built Stellar One. It was all her idea. We fought so. I drove her from Stellar One back to Earth when she would have stayed. I wouldn’t speak to her, I couldn’t, not after… I’d just killed my cadre leader and let the Zenbu take my chief hunter. To save her life, to save mine. I couldn’t speak. I drove her away. Oh God, I killed us all. She’d have known what to do, but I drove her away.”

  “You don’t know that she would have stayed.”

  “Yes, I do. Robbie told me. That the Angel-lady wanted nothing more than to go to space with us.”

  The large biologist knew his mother as well. The jungle they were sitting in must be his mother’s work, as was the ship. Maybe, just maybe, if his mother had stood up against the Old Bastard, so could he. He’d help Ri and probably be damned. But maybe not.

  He listened inside his head for a long moment, but the memories were silent. Perhaps Ri’s path was one Bryce Sr. had never walked. For once it was up to Bryce Jr. to answer Ri’s call for aid.

  As he nodded to himself, he could imagine just a hint of his mother’s lavender perfume upon the jungle air.

  # # #

  “Where have you been? Are you okay? You look like shit.”

  Ri held onto the airlock frame and stared at Jackson. She managed to reach the lounge table sinking onto the bench.

  “Ri?”

  She shook her head and stared down at the table. She was vaguely aware that he left the table and returned with a cup of coffee. She shook her head and pushed it aside. Juice would have been good but not coffee. Maybe he thought she was drunk. She almost laughed. Wouldn’t that be a relief?

  Icarus was so neat and ordered it was surreal compared with what she just been through. The only clutter was a couple of loose vid-wafers near Donnie’s end of the couch and half-a-dozen references Hank had clearly forgotten he was reading.

  “Ri?” Jackson sat beside her. He reached out a hand and rested it on her forearm. “Devra called. Seems you’ve missed your shift. I told her you were busy, but apparently it was a command shift. She ended up standing your watch last night. She didn’t sound amused.”

  Ri nodded but couldn’t find the energy to move. “I’ve been touring the other rings. Have you gone there, Jackson?”

  “Nope. Only the Desert Pub and that R2 ag-bay with you. Oh, I know. Let’s go back to the forest biome. We’ll make a picnic…” He’d taken her chill hand in his two warm ones. They felt strong and safe.

  “I was just there.” Ri blinked and tried to focus, but all she could see was the two hands wrapped around hers. “This morning…afternoon, whatever. I’ve been walking all day and night I guess. What time is it, anyway? The rings. Christ, Jackson, they’re all different.”

  “Sure different biomes. Different color schemes.”

  Ri shook her head until he stopped.

  “No. They’re…” she searched her weary brain for another word, “…different.” She’d left Bryce
in the halls outside the jungle and decided to check Jaron’s observations of R4 by walking the corridors. She skipped R4L1 Northeast. After all, she’d already been there twice in 24 hours; and the second time had scared the daylights out of her.

  It was worse than she’d ever imagined. Each ring, each level had a different character than she’d expected. And when it wasn’t more dangerous, it was simply weirder. Someone had painted all of R3L3 West in zebra stripe. The entire corridor, floor, walls, and ceiling. It had made for a surreal and intensely disorienting half-kilometer walk. Then, between one step and the next everything was back to normal. Of them all, only Ring One contained any semblance of normalcy.

  Jackson, obviously piqued by her non-responsiveness, slouched back and stretched his legs under the table. He folded his hands behind his head. He had his condescending, know-it-all look. The one he wore when he was pretending to be patient.

  “Okay, so they’re different. What’s the big deal?”

  “Go to hell, Captain Turner.” She staggered to her feet and looked down at him.

  “Just go to hell.” She managed to reach the nearest quarters and locked the door behind her. She was only vaguely aware of falling onto the bunk.

  Chapter 24

  14 January 1 A.A.

  She was running. The bottoms of her feet pounded against the hard-packed dirt. If she could only move faster. The hurricane of fire was gaining ground. Ri slid down three levels and fought her way through the thick undergrowth. She could hear the fire eating the jungle. She finally broke into the clear and dug into a sprint when someone grabbed her arm to keep her back. The hand slid to hold her breast and she struck out.

  Ri heard a cry as her fist hit flesh. The hold released on her abruptly and she rolled over to face her assailant. Jackson was sitting on the floor rubbing the center of his chest. She was lying on his bunk.

  “What is wrong with you, Ri? You were a lot of fun a few days ago.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here. Remember?”

  Ri looked around the room. It all seemed foreign. She’d crash-landed in Jackson’s quarters. He had photos of ships and groups of friends, frequently posing for the camera with arms draped over each other’s shoulders. Hundreds of people: on Earth beaches, in envirosuits atop Olympus Mons, Mars, crowded together in some Loonie bar; multitudes all smiled down at her.

  She sat up, but lay back quickly. Her head tried to explode and she couldn’t stop the tears running down her cheeks. She wiped at her eyes; just tired, that’s all.

  “What happened to you yesterday? You are acting well beyond strange and somewhere off into bizarre.”

  She couldn’t make herself speak. This time she managed to sit up without being sick. She staggered out into the hall and brushed past Donnie and Rolovsky on her way out the airlock. She closed and voided the lock once she was through, that would slow Jackson down if he was trying to follow her.

  Using the wall for support, Ri managed to reach her quarters in L3. A good blast under the shower brought her fully awake. As she dragged on her fresh shipsuit, she glared at the only decoration in her room. The blowup of the Earthrise photo filled an entire wall. She reached out to tear it down as a pointless dream, but stopped the motion. There must be something she could yet do.

  She turned and dragged herself to command and tried to lose herself in the backlog of work. Halliday had the watch, but was nice enough to leave her to her mess. The message queue was huge and it took an age to wade through it all. She dumped over half with barely a glance.

  A whole series were from the R3 Savannah biome. Copies of messages to maintenance about air scrubber failures. Finally a report that a makeshift had been implemented by the Savannah crew. Repair never responded from R2. She started a blistering message to the maintenance chief, but then wondered if they might be swamped with more important crises. Or, without her support, were the biomes not getting the attention they deserved? She pulled up Repair’s log. Nothing was flagged hot. In fact nothing had been flagged as complete in nearly two weeks.

  She started inspecting the other departments that affected the biomes. Water Recirc and Waste Processing were both right on top of it. Air was doing well, though the reserves had stalled at fifty-seven percent. Should be higher, but it was well into the safe zone. Ag-workers in R3 and R4 hadn’t filed a report of any kind in weeks. R1 and R2 were spotty at best.

  “Appreciate you reporting in, Jeffers.”

  She stood too quickly and had to lean her hip against the console to keep her balance. “Sorry, Olias, I wasn’t well.”

  “I can see that.” His knife-thin smile never reached his eyes. “What’s the status? Report.”

  She snapped to attention in response to his barked order. “Biomes are stable or better. All life necessary systems are in balance. Air and water quality are nominal.”

  “Best check again, Biologics Liaison Jeffers. Pay more attention to the agri-zones. Remember you are responsible for reporting on those seven zones as well. They provide our food and oxygen far more than your exotic environments.” He started to turn away, then thought better of it.

  “And Jeffers. You may wish to rethink your sleeping habits and subsequent attention to your duties if you wish to remain on this command crew.”

  He left the room without any further comment. Halliday, only a few meters away in the command chair, carefully didn’t turn to look at her. Ri lowered herself back into her seat. She could understand Olias’ anger at her sleeping with his half-brother, but to threaten her job. And she’d only slept with him the one time. Unable to make her fingers find the keys, she dragged on a headset and switched the console to voice mode.

  As she began calling up production charts, her eyes came to rest on the main viewers where Earth was centered on the screen. A huge storm engulfed thirty degrees of latitude just north of the equator with wind speeds so high she could actually see the cloud movement. No hurricane in Earth’s earlier history could match this monster.

  # # #

  Ri stared at the chart on her screen. Something was wrong, but it was eluding her. Olias was right, the ag-bays were underproducing. Not much overall, but six percent meant that much less food and oxygen. It was no longer a mystery as to why the air reserves weren’t fully stocked yet. But with a six percent lower production, the kilograms of food available per capita per day were actually increasing.

  She started projecting production and consumption changes over the last several months, but none of the curves matched. Then she spotted it. She closed her eyes for a long moment, but the results didn’t change when she reopened them. She checked it several times before clearing her screen and moving to rap at Captain Conrad’s office.

  She was admitted immediately. Olias sat in a chair across from the Captain. She signaled Ri to sit beside him.

  As she took her seat, Devra smiled at her gently. “Olias tells me you have not been well lately, not for several days if I read your shift logs correctly. I believe I experienced the results of your unwellness last night during the double watch I took myself.”

  Ri was caught past the balance point and completed her journey to sitting rather than trying to snap to attention. Her mouth was dry and she tried to speak.

  “I’ve… I’m…” If the Captain had been alone, she might have tried to explain, but Olias’ scowl was too daunting.

  “You have been distracted of late,” the Captain completed for her. “And…”

  Ri leaned forward at the Captain’s pause. “It won’t happen again?”

  The Captain nodded pleasantly.

  “I promise. It is an honor to serve on your crew.” And she meant it, too.

  Captain Conrad leaned back in her chair and folded her hands before her. “Well, I am pleased that small matter has a satisfactory conclusion. Are you not pleased as well, Sub-Captain Sunra?”

 
Olias stared at her for a long moment before grunting and shrugged his shoulders. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dirt-smeared t-card. This time he handed it to her.

  “I must have dropped it.”

  “Right. Then a digger ran over it and triggered an emergency alarm causing a mobilization of everyone except the Security Chief who for some reason didn’t have a tone-card.”

  She locked the small keypad and sealed it into a hip pocket. Maybe she’d just keep her mouth shut for the moment.

  The Captain nodded and turned back to Ri. “You wanted to see me about something. So important you brought it directly to me without first approaching the officer of the watch?”

  Beneath the heat of Olias’ scowl and the Captain’s bland expression all she could do was nod.

  “Olias, ease up on the poor girl now. I believe you have performed a sufficient job of scaring her for the moment.” She leaned forward. “Just say it, Commander Jeffers. You’ll remember how to speak normally once you get started.”

  Ri could have hugged her. “As Sub-Captain Olias indicated, the agri-zones are underproducing.”

  “And you’ve determined why so quickly. Isn’t that nice, Captain? I think that’s nice. I’m so glad to have you on the job again.”

  Ri had never suspected Olias to be capable of sarcasm at all. And it was very effective, she was ready to punch him.

  “No. I’ve found out why it hasn’t mattered so far. We’re dying.”

  Olias was preparing to slice into her again when the Captain’s quiet voice stopped him.

  “Go on.”

  Ri rose and crossed to the wall viewer. She slipped a keypad out of the slot and returned to her seat. She started calling up the data, explaining it as she went. The various curves started to cover the wall. She tapped number values to display at key data points.

  “Agri production is down six percent. Within tolerances, but we should be feeling the pinch. The first reason we aren’t, per capita consumption is down; people just aren’t eating as much. Simple fact of life is that happy people consume more calories. But that explains less than twenty percent of the variation from model. The second reason it isn’t a problem is there are fewer people doing the consuming as well.”