Therius’s blue eyes lit up. “Exactly! What do you think that something is, Captain Hale?” Farah shrugged, and Therius’s smile broadened. “We searched hard for the missing link, but after more than a million experiments, we never found it.”
“So Omnius doesn’t know everything after all. I’m not surprised by that.”
“No, he doesn’t, but what would you call something that defies physical explanation and makes one person fundamentally different from another?”
Farah saw where Therius was going with that. “I’m guessing you would call it a soul.”
“Yet you don’t believe that. This is compelling evidence that we are not just data recorded in a biological computer. If we were, then Omnius would find both mortal humans and immortal clones to be equally predictable. Instead, he was forced to create the Null Zone and The Choosing just to give him an excuse to separate unpredictable people from predictable ones.”
Farah frowned. “He doesn’t have to do that. He could just force everyone to resurrect at whatever age makes the most sense and then call it a day. He’s already resurrected the majority of the people living on Avilon, so he just has to worry about the children.”
“You would think so, but in practice that’s not how it works. Plenty of Etherians and Celestials grow tired of Omnius’s control over their lives and choose to become Nulls. Do you know what all of those people have in common?”
“They saw through Omnius’s lies?”
“No, they all did one or more things that Omnius didn’t predict.”
“You’re saying their… souls came back?”
Therius held her gaze for a long, solemn moment, seeming not to notice her sarcasm. “Yes.”
Farah grunted. “If clones are becoming unpredictable over time, that could mean that exposure to environmental factors is the missing element.”
“If exposure to environment factors makes people unpredictable, then we should be able to isolate a physical cause, but Omnius was unable to find one in over a million experiments.”
“There was a time when we couldn’t isolate subatomic particles. Just because we can’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” Farah said.
Therius sighed and waved away the holo recordings. “I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”
Farah turned to look at High Matriarch Shara. The Gor still looked confused. Her slitted eyes had narrowed to slivers, as if none of what they were talking about made any sense to her. By contrast, the Sythians were impassive, unimpressed. Shallah gave no reaction when Farah looked at him, but Queen Tavia unfolded her wings and refolded them restlessly.
“What about Gors and Sythians?” Farah asked, turning back to Therius. “Are they also unpredictable?”
“Shallah wouldn’t have been able to rebel against Omnius if he weren’t at least somewhat unpredictable. Likewise, the Gors shouldn’t have been able to rebel against Shallah. Despite Omnius’s desire to predict and control us, our souls are all still free of his predictions. Omnius’s original directive was to predict what his creators would do before they did it, and he’s still trying desperately to accomplish that.”
“But he must have found something after more than a million experiments. What was his conclusion?”
“He believes it’s the uncertainty principle. The quantum fabric of the universe is essentially unpredictable. Unpredictable variables add up over time to create irregularities in an otherwise ordered system. Two separate instances of the same person, no matter how similar, are different because they exist at different points in space time, and they will be exposed to unique quantum factors that will alter their behavior.”
“That makes sense,” Farah said.
“No, it doesn’t. That only explains why two identical clones with identical memories will act differently—not why one will be predictable and the other will not. The predictable clone is exposed to the same random quantum variables and should be just as unpredictable as the original person.”
Farah sighed. “Maybe quantum differences build up over time. Clones are grown in tanks at an accelerated pace. Most of them have only been alive for a month by the time Omnius wakes them up. That’s not the same as actually living for twenty-something years. And that explains why clones become unpredictable again over time.”
“We’re going to have to agree to disagree,” Therius said. “You have your doubts, and I have my faith. Both are equally impossible to prove. It’s a mystery.”
Farah smiled thinly. “And it’s going to remain one unless this Etherus of yours comes here from his universe, sits down with us, and explains it all.”
“Even if that were to happen, you would not believe him.”
“If he showed me proof I would.”
“Earlier you asked for evidence. Now you want proof, so which is it?”
“My mistake. I meant proof.”
“I see,” Therius replied, clasping his hands on the table and nodding. “That is the difference between faith and reason. For every question that reason answers, it raises another. The only way to permanently answer it is to become God and know everything, and I don’t think He wants to share His throne with all of us.” There was a spark of amusement in Therius’s eyes that annoyed Farah.
She glared back at him. “We’ve wasted enough time trying to answer the unanswerable. We need to get back to the problem at hand—defeating Omnius.”
“I agree,” Therius replied. He turned to the High Matriarch. “Shara, please inform the other matriarchs of what they will be facing on the surface of Avilon. Have your ground teams and pilots begin using the simulators aboard the Sythians’ Behemoth Cruisers to train for their missions. I’ve already assigned battalions and battle groups to objectives, so all you need to do is check with Shallah to find who needs to use which simulators.”
Shara turned to look at Shallah, and she hissed something at him in her language. Shallah hissed back. The exchange went on for a while, leaving Farah to wonder what they were talking about.
“Enough!” Therius boomed, slapping the table with his palms. “We call ourselves the Union for a reason. We stand united against a common enemy, and that means we need to trust each other.” Turning to Shara, he said, “If you cannot trust Shallah enough to use the simulators aboard his warships, your people will be unprepared when they reach Avilon, and they will be slaughtered. Then all of this will have been for nothing.”
“We train in the jungles and on the fields,” she replied. “We hunt; we kill; we are ready.”
“There are no fields or jungles on Avilon. How will you prepare for that?”
Shara hissed. “Then why do you make Gors train in fields and jungles if this training is useless?”
“I didn’t say it’s useless. That was the first part of their training. Now that your people are physically conditioned and trained to work together in their respective teams, it’s time for them to become familiar with the environment they’ll be fighting in.”
Shara hissed once more and bowed her head. “I trust your judgment, Patriarch.”
“Thank you,” Therius said. His gaze left Shara to rove around the table and address all of them. “This meeting is adjourned. It won’t be long now before we are ready.”
Therius rose to his feet and nodded to the door. Shara rose next, but she waited for the Sythians to leave the room first.
Queen Tavia cast an unreadable look over her shoulder as she left. Shara hissed and feinted a lunge at the Sythian Queen.
Tavia startled, her wings unfolding reflexively before she realized that Shara’s intent wasn’t serious. She hissed back and refolded her wings.
Shara gave a sissing laugh and followed the Sythians out.
Farah watched them all go with a frown. “It’s going to be a miracle if we don’t all turn on each other before we get to Avilon.”
Therius regarded her with a smile. “Miracles are my specialty, Miss Hale.”
“If you say so.”
“I forgot to
mention something, Captain. There’s one other faction that has yet to be introduced to the Union.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve begun recruiting the local fauna.”
Therius laughed. “No, quite the opposite in fact.”
The sound of clanking footsteps reached Farah’s ears and she turned to see 767 appear in the open doorway to the operations center. She frowned, wondering what he was doing there.
“My battalion is ready for inspection, Admiral,” 767 said.
“Your…” Farah turned back to Therius, her eyes wide and blinking. “You created an entire battalion of them?”
“Who better to infiltrate Avilon than drones?”
Farah blinked. Who better indeed.
* * *
Atton handed Ceyla the data pad with the results of his medical scan. She looked it over with a frown. It took longer than he expected for her to react, and when she did, she wasn’t as apologetic as he had hoped.
She looked up, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “How do I know you didn’t forge this report and send it to yourself from a fake address?”
Atton shook his head, wondering what had made Ceyla so suspicious of him. Sure, she looked older than him, but he didn’t exactly look like a teenager.
“I’m going to call the doctor,” she said, tapping her comm band and dialing the doctor’s number on a holographic keypad. She waited with her arm held at waist height. The holographic keypad was replaced by a blank screen that read, Calling…
The band trilled quietly, and a moment later, the blank screen showed the face of an aging Null doctor with bushy white eyebrows and a thoroughly lined face. Atton had chosen him carefully, knowing that a mortal would inspire immediate confidence from Ceyla.
“Doctor Cander speaking,” the man said. He appeared to be staring past them. The headlights of oncoming traffic playing through his white hair told them why.
“Doctor Cander,” Ceyla said. “I’m sorry to call you while you’re driving.”
“Not a problem,” Cander replied, glancing briefly at her. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“You performed some tests on my husband today. I just wanted to confirm the results with you and make sure there were no misunderstandings. His name is Darin Thardris.”
“Mr. Thardris, yes… he told me you might call. No misunderstandings,” Cander went on. “Your husband is one hundred percent mortal.”
“And there’s no way the test could fail?”
“Yes, if I confused his scan data with that of another patient.”
“Did you?”
“Not once in all my forty years of practicing medicine, ma’am, but if you’re worried, he could come in tomorrow and I’ll perform another scan.”
“No, that’s okay,” Ceyla replied. “Thank you. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“No bother, Mrs. Thardris. Have a nice evening.”
The call ended and Ceyla turned to Atton, looking sheepish. “Darin, I’m…”
“It’s all right,” he replied, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t shameless enough to hold her suspicions against her. After all, she was right.
Ceyla took a few steps toward him and placed her hands on his chest. Kissing him, she said, “Let me make it up to you.”
Ceyla led him to the living room and made him sit while she stripped naked in front of him. It felt wrong to enjoy the show. It felt even worse to enjoy what came next as she sat naked in his lap and unbuckled his belt.
The truth hammered around inside his head, demanding to be let out, but he didn’t have the guts to say it. Ceyla was the only good thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
Besides, he’d already done what Admiral Vee had asked in exchange for her buying Doctor Cander’s help. He’d broken into Ethan’s apartment while he and Alara were away and made detailed holo recordings of the interior. Atton wasn’t sure what Valari planned to do with that, and he didn’t want to know, but at least she hadn’t asked him to deliver Ethan to her bedroom. If she wanted Ethan, she would have to tempt him away from Alara all by herself.
“Are you okay?” Ceyla breathed close beside his ear. When he didn’t reply right away, she withdrew to look him in the eye.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered back, his hands sliding down to her bare buttocks.
When it was over, she was left panting against his chest with a contented smile on her face. Atton took a deep breath and sighed. Ceyla leaned back to study him. “You’re still upset.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not.”
She kissed him, forcing his lips apart with her tongue. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered, as if she could taste the lie on his lips.
The irony was, this time he wasn’t lying. How could he be upset with her? He was upset with himself. “I mean it,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m going to have to apologize again.”
And she did.
This time he managed to at least act like he was enjoying himself, but every kiss and every touch felt tainted.
What good was it to be with the love of his life if he had to lie to keep her? He couldn’t delude himself into believing that was love. This has to end, he thought.
“I love you, Darin,” she whispered in his ear.
“I love you more, Ceyla.”
What was so special about a face or a name? Just because she thought he was Darin Thardris, didn’t mean she didn’t love him. He was still the same person under the surface.
What he really needed to do was find some way to mimic the signs of age. A bio-synthetic suit would work, but sooner or later Ceyla would notice the difference between what her hands felt and what her eyes saw. Not to mention what would happen if she ever caught him taking the suit off or putting it back on…
Atton shook his head, feeling more confused than ever. He would be able to buy time like that, but time was his enemy, and sooner or later too much of it would pass.
* * *
—One Week Later—
Ethan gave the waiter his and Alara’s orders for drinks, and then went back to watching the sunset. The Canopy was a luxurious restaurant on level 45. The balcony where they sat gave them a simulated view over the top of a mottled blue and green-leafed jungle, broken here and there with crowns of ivory blossom trees. In the distance a blood-orange sun peeked over the treetops, warming the cooler tones of the flora below.
A fake breeze blew and Ethan caught an aroma of tree sap and ivory blossom nectar, along with a damp, loamy smell. They heard birds chirping and hooting, mingled with the occasional howl from a tree-climbing animal. It was all simulated, but more than enough to convince Ethan’s senses and make him feel like he was on a completely different planet.
If only that were true.
The reality was they were still on Avilon, and Trinity was just about to go through her Choosing Ceremony. Ethan had given Admiral Vee his message, but he wasn’t sure if it would be enough.
“Don’t forget who you are, Trinity. You’re an Ortane, and there are three of us. That’s what your name means—a group of three. We’re all in this together. Don’t forget that. I love you no matter what, and I know you won’t make the wrong choice.”
Ethan looked away from the sunset to study his wife. She was staring at the table, her eyes unfocused and dull. He reached for her hand and squeezed. “Don’t think about it, all right?”
Alara looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. “How can I stop thinking about it? She’s our daughter.”
“And there’s nothing we can do right now other than wait to see what she chooses.”
Alara shook her head. “Life could be easier up there, Ethan. We might even be able to afford to have more kids.”
Ethan frowned. “You know how I feel about Etheria, and besides, Trinity isn’t going to choose to go there. She’s smarter than that.”
Alara looked away and spent a moment staring ou
t over the simulated jungle. Ethan watched her carefully, trying to come up with a way to make her feel better.
“I want to go home,” she said, not looking at him.
“We just got here!”
“I’m tired. I don’t… I can’t do this right now. I just want to go to bed and wake up to hear Trinity on the comm, saying that it’s over.”
Ethan grimaced. “Look… if she chooses Etheria, she’ll still be able to visit us. We won’t lose her.”
Alara’s brow furrowed and her eyes became hard. “That’s what you want? For our daughter to have to visit us like we’re in prison? She’ll grow up without us!”
Ethan sighed. “Let’s wait and see what she decides, okay?”
“Fine, and while we’re waiting you can take me home.”
Ethan’s stomach grumbled, and he grimaced at his empty plate. “All right, let’s go.”
They passed their waiter on the way out.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Ortane?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, my wife isn’t feeling well. We’ll have to come back another time.”
“Of course. I hope you feel better soon, Ma’am.”
Alara flashed a lifeless smile, and they left.
Once they were back in the car, Ethan pulled out into the street and drove to the nearest vertical stream of traffic. He flew down to level 30 and slipped into a stream of traffic.
Alara was quiet, her silence judging him right alongside his conscience. It was hard to imagine life without Trinity. Would their marriage even survive such a blow?
Not with my wife blaming me for her absence, he decided.
No sooner had that thought passed through his head than the comm band around his wrist trilled and vibrated with an incoming call, startling him out of his thoughts. The band was connected to the car’s comm suite, so he accepted the call there. An image of the caller appeared on the car’s main holo display, along with a name—Peacekeeper Damaris Rills (Acolyte).
“Ethan Ortane here,” he said.
Alara sat suddenly straighter and leaned toward the holo display.
“Mr. Ortane, your daughter has made her choice,” the Peacekeeper said.
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