The questions that surprised them the most were the ones that came as she paused periods in her late development; “What memory was I reliving when I looked like I was pushing something away?” she asked as she replayed a segment of her growth where she was warding something away with her hands and feet. It turned out to be the memory of an unwelcome pass while she was in a night club on leave.
“What's happening here? I'm curled up, not moving at all.” she asked as she pointed out to a long clip that stretched on for several hours. The answer surprised her, an unwelcome reminder of the friend she had lost after graduating from the Academy. Sylvia, who she had grown up with and had graduated before to join Fleet as an ensign had been accidentally killed while on long range patrol. The memory came back to her then. She laid in her bunk and cried herself to sleep the night after hearing the news. The following duty shift came too soon and she almost didn't show up. That watch was the hardest, and for weeks she was on autopilot, working, studying, sleeping. Eventually she snapped out of it and thinking back she realized it was her work that got her through the grieving period for the friend she still missed.
There were other expressions, positions that she had questions about, but the most important and the last query was brought on by a self satisfied grin unlike any she'd seen. As it turned out that expression was caused by the experience of the Pilot's Ball. Ayan liked the spotlight from time to time, it was true. The Pilot's Ball was an experience she'd never forget, feeling like the center of attention, having the eye of the one person in the crowd you wanted to be near; few people had more than one night like that in their lifetimes.
Jonas had been tongue tied, dazzled. She couldn't help but wonder if she should change her hair colour back to the shade of red it was that night or if she could fit into that white gown. Those thoughts were secondary to the memory of their first kiss, the first time he trusted her with stories of his childhood, of his parents. She missed him and at the same time wondered if Jacob Valance was struggling with the same questions, the same problems she had.
The thought seemed ridiculous somehow. Jonas, or Jake as he was called the second time around, would have no such problems. Heaven knows he wasn't always sure of himself, but if there's any of Jonas in Jacob he's probably gifted with that deep well of strength and resolve. I've never seen someone so kind summon such will and clarity of purpose when it's needed. He's probably past any problems he's had with Jonas' memories if Jake's anything like him. If nothing else I'd just like to hear what kind of advice he could offer. God I hope he's in there, I hope he remembers everything important about what it is to be Jonas. Everything with him feels so unfinished and I miss him. In times like these, when I could use someone just like him, I miss him so much. The recordings of him chasing down bounties, making a grand speech for the Aucharians and other, less flashy security footage came to mind. There's got to be something. He was a bit of a bad boy in sims before we met, always looking for some challenge to overcome, and the more it seemed like someone else couldn't do it, the more he wanted to do it. That white scarf I gave him, in most of the playbacks he still wears it, there's got to be something of Jonas in him, even if it's buried. Still, marks how little I've changed; still heels up for the bad boy in the bunch.
She sighed and fixed herself with a small smile. The dimples in her cheeks were something she was still getting used to along with other little changes in her expressions. Silly girl, pining over someone whose as much fantasy as anything when your future's about to be announced by the highest law in the sector.
Her thoughts returned to the seven judges on the Freeground Nation Judiciary Council, entrusted with protecting and determining foundation laws for all citizens. From what she understood her very existence was a question that was difficult to answer in legal terms. She wasn't a clone, but a new being that had matured from genetically purified stock in a wormhole that allowed time to pass faster inside its influence than outside.
Doctor Anderson and Doctor Milan both visited her every day since she woke to ensure she was well physically as well as mentally. Doctor Anderson was a researcher and medical doctor, the other, Doctor Milan, was a seasoned psychiatrist who had been on board for the thirty year circular trip. They also kept her up to date on how the presentation of her case to the Judiciary Council was going. The fact that she wasn't allowed to attend was beyond frustrating. Even though she already knew the answer, she couldn't help but ask why she wasn't allowed to watch the proceedings; “The Council is judging this based on scientific fact and they believe that it may be difficult to remain objective with you present,” came the predictable answer.
“I'm not just some experiment, I became a person. An actual woman who deserves to know what they're saying, what they're thinking while they make decisions that could determine my future!” she responded exasperatedly. She knew it was no use, that complaining to Doctor Milan wouldn't do any good. Her therapist was just the messenger, a testifying witness at best.
That was several days before. Her complaint had more of an impact than she had expected. The entire research team who assisted with her rebirth made an appeal to the Judiciary Council on her behalf. As a result the Council would give her the opportunity to speak before they made their final ruling.
As she checked her white vacsuit, made more in the fashion of a civilian garment with a low cut neckline, and put on a long, gossamer blue shawl that had been given to her by Doctor Shannon Milan, she reminded herself to thank the whole team once again. The outfit had more class than what she normally wore, shimmered white and blue and still had all the practical elements of what she had grown used to on the First Light. She adjusted her shawl so it hung properly, starting just below her white choker flowing down to her knees and shook her head.
It still feels so strange sometimes just accepting the memories they gave me as my own but it feels right. Shannon was right, I'm glad we had that morning session. I feel much better going into this without feeling so guilty, feeling like I'm trespassing every time I think about what I lived in another body. That's all it is, really. Those memories are just from another body, it was still me.
Ayan checked herself in the mirror for the last time and sighed at the face there. “A bit of extra weight showing around the cheeks but at least I don't have to take meds every morning or get a checkup every week after this,” she had to admit that she missed her red hair sometimes, something she might fix later, but against the shimmering white and blue outfit she wore the loose blond curls looked fetching, much better than she expected.
As she stepped towards the door it slid quietly to the side where Doctor Anderson was answering a question for Minh and Doctor Milan smiled at her. “You look lovely. Very much yourself.”
“I don't know exactly what that means, but thank you,” Ayan teased with a smirk.
“Whose the looker?” Minh complimented with a playful wink. He was in his old First Light starfighter pilot uniform. A black vacsuit with a heavy flight jacket over top that came complete with a white scarf. She was reminded again of the one she had given Jonas and through that her mind wandered momentarily to Minh's invitation. If she could jump into his ship right then and there instead of face the Judiciary Council she would have.
“Are you ready? It's just about time,” Doctor Anderson asked quietly.
“How is it out there?” she asked in return.
“Full, but don't worry. I expect the ruling to be at least partially favourable. Just use this opportunity to say what's on your mind.”
“Right. Let's get this over with,” Ayan said, exhaling slowly and steeling herself.
The doors to the side chamber opened and she walked out. It wasn't a courtroom, it was the Parliament floor, the size of an arena. The four of them walked quietly from the side to the back of the main walkway with Ayan in front, the Doctors behind and Minh-Chu at the rear. She was happy he was allowed to come along, his levity made her smile, which was just as important as anything Doctor Anderson or Milan c
ould do for her then.
When she was half way down the long sloping walkway her entourage stopped and took a front seat in the observer's area. The rest of the seats, over twenty rows in an oval surrounding the moderator's seat as far as she could estimate, were filled with Ministers, Senators, and Military representatives. Her gaze flitted across the ones just in front and to the left and right, there were hundreds, not a single seat was empty.
At the bottom of the sloping walkway was a clear oval space with a circle of desks for House Clerks, the Moderator's High Seat was behind that, and above it was the Council Bench. It was actually a long, dark wooden desk that loomed over everyone in the room, especially the Petitioner's Dais standing opposite. The dais was set at the bottom of the sloped walkway and when she stopped to stand there the massive chamber ground down from a lively chatter to dead silence.
Ayan had never felt so small. She knew what she wanted to say when it was her time to make a statement, understood what was about to happen, what was required of her, and that she did have some influence. While the floor was hers she'd have the very rare opportunity to address all the representatives publicly, without having her statement screened beforehand. None of that eased the lump in her throat, settled the butterflies in her stomach or stopped her palms from sweating. In an attempt to feign calm she folded her hands over the front of her loose shawl and held her head up high.
“All rise for the Members of the Judiciary Council,” the Mediator's Aide called out. The sound of thousands of representatives and gallery attendees standing was like rolling thunder, echoing across the large open space. She hadn't noticed the upper gallery above the observer's seating before and regretted looking across the standing multitude. There were thousands sitting there, more still below them in the observer's seating, and she avoided the appraising gazes of the various representatives. It felt like each one weighed her against some kind of preconception or value she wasn't privy to.
The seven judges came out of a back room and each quietly took their seats behind the high bench. The judge in the center was always the last to vote on any matter and the first to speak unless she predetermined another member should be the primary on the matter. The role of the Judiciary Council was to decide on unprecedented matters that would result in the creation of laws or drastic change in government or military policy. Parliament could debate, refine or contest the laws that resulted from their judgements, but it wasn't commonplace, since the Judges were chosen from each of the leading parties.
The woman in the center, Judge Moore, was silver haired and round faced. She was not the eldest, however. That honour was reserved for Judge Barnes, a tall, lean fellow with no hair at all. He had served longer than any three judges on that panel combined. All of them looked bone weary.
When they were all seated Judge Moore addressed the court. “It seems only days ago we were called to assembly to consider this strange case. It has actually been two weeks. This Council hasn't consulted with so many doctors and scientists in decades. Before we issue our ruling, it is within the scope of due diligence that we disclose the process we undertook to come to our conclusion in general terms. Before we enter that information into the record we would like to offer the first being to be affected by our rulings today to speak on her own behalf.”
Ayan nodded and cleared her throat quietly before answering. “I would like to take that opportunity, your Honour.” Her voice seemed wrong as it echoed back at her, her light Britannic accent was awkward in her ears.
“Please proceed.”
She took a moment to sort her thoughts and concentrated on looking at Judge Moore, who sat up high, looking on with interest. “Everything I remember is from another life,” she tried not to flinch at her solitary voice cutting the silence. “I can recall experiences of every kind, everything you could expect from a lifetime that was lived in health and eventual terminal sickness.
Two weeks ago I woke up healthy and I was told that a body scan taken of me before I was too ill for it to be viable was used to imprint my experiences onto a new form. A process that took over thirty years and involved sacrifices that I don't know if I could make myself. I cannot fully express my gratitude to the people who gave me a second chance at life. All I can do is honour them in how I use this opportunity. I request nothing more than the freedom and means to be of service to them and the rest of the Freeground Nation. I submit to this Council that I can best accomplish that by continuing my previous existence, to legally become Ayan Rice with the rank and history attached to that name. Thank you,” she finished.
“Thank you, petitioner. Please remain where you are to hear our statement of due process and our ruling. As our review of this matter is complete, I'll read a summary of our process and findings into the official record. Our first task was to verify that Ayan was raised in the manner Doctor Anderson and the crew of vessel 42-2100-14C claimed. That is; created using natural materials, altered so a natural evolutionary course replaced centuries of genetic manipulation and then implanted in an artificial womb for thirty years. The passing of which was undergone in vessel 42-2100-14C inside a time compression wormhole. The actual passage of time outside of that space was four years, one month and eleven days. This Judiciary Council finds no falsehoods in these claims.
After reviewing physical evaluation, psychological evaluation and therapeutic logs we also find Ayan is sound in mind and body. Unfortunately, we also found that her genetic profile is so different from any known to our records that we cannot find ancestral ties. It is the personal opinion of this Judge that we should consider that finding as more of a statement on how much each of us have been genetically altered rather than consider it any kind of failing on the part of the petitioner or those responsible for her existence.
With those findings finalized, this Council was satisfied that our review of the evidence was complete and unanimously decided that our findings should be read into the public record. It was also decided that the Sentient Clone Freedoms Act does not apply to the primary petitioner. She is not a clone, but a natural being created through the legal use of modern technology. After much deliberation the fact that she possesses the memories of another being does not make her a copy. There are more than enough unique characteristics for the young woman we see before us today to be considered as a separate entity. Her future development and growth will differ from the original possessor of those memories thanks to good health and other significant physical changes. If both Ayan Rice and the Petitioner were to live their lives side by side we are absolutely certain they would do so very differently but with equal sentience.
Having verified her sentience we conclude by majority that the Petitioner, Ayan, is immediately to be considered a Citizen of the Freeground Nation. Ayan will not, however be treated as a replacement or given the same military rank as Ayan Rice, the woman from which her memories originated. The petitioner is not to be permitted to enlist in the military, she will not be permitted to work in a civilian position that requires access to sensitive materials and will have no special authority or special access to the materials or data belonging to Ayan Rice. The possessions of the deceased will be managed by a predetermined executor, her mother; Admiral Jessica Rice. Petitioner Ayan is also not required to submit to further testing, treatment or procedures for any reason.”
Judge Moore's expression softened and she smiled at Ayan. “Congratulations young lady, you and anyone like you are free by law. This session is adjourned.”
“All rise for the departure of the Judiciary Council,” called out one of the Clerks.
Ayan just watched as the seven black robed judges stood, turned, and filed out of the chamber through a small door. She had at the same time been given rights, freedom and had the opportunity to continue her life as she knew it stripped away.
The few congratulations and quiet praises offered by the closer members of the house were hollow comfort to Ayan. The Clone Rights Organization President said something she hadn't considered;
“you've set an important precedent for anyone with memory imprints in the Freeground Nation and anyone who has a deep scan made of themselves. Not to mention the rights and expectations you've established for people who are cultivated the way you've been,” he praised quietly, shaking her hand briefly before moving on.
Memory scans and recoveries weren't foreign, but what made her different was the utter completeness of the imprint. It took a lifetime, thirty years, but she couldn't find any gaps. She was physiologically different, but other than having trouble concentrating for the first few days and slightly lower test scores, all of which could be explained by the absence of genetic enhancements, her memories, her basic cognitive abilities were perfectly fine.
Minh-Chu, Doctor Anderson and Milan met her at a side door and they were quiet as they navigated through the thick crowds in the halls outside. There were several more congratulations offered, a few dark looks from people who didn't support starting life in an artificial environment, but they were able to get to their shuttle quick enough.
“I hear you have a ship of your own Minh, why didn't we use it instead of renting a shuttle?” Asked Doctor Milan.
Minh cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. “It needs a little more work. Besides, it was a troop carrier before, um, whatever it was used for after.”
“What's it called?”
“It was called the Gull, but I'm renaming it the Warpig, ” he smiled as he sat down at the basic shuttle controls. It was an eight seat passenger carrier, streamlined with the pilot and copilot seats set just ahead of two rows of four comfortable reclining seats.
Ayan couldn't help but burst out laughing at the new name before she calmed herself down. Everyone in the small craft knew her mirth came more as a stress reliever than anything else.
Minh fixed her with an injured look over his shoulder before turning around and preparing to detach from Freeground station.
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