Scions of Sacrifice

by Eric Kent Edstrom

  “He’s fine. He’s a Scion, after all.”

  At least there was some benefit to being a Scion. Dr. Carlhagen had made some modifications to each Scion’s DNA, mostly to prevent the illnesses their Progenitors suffered from. But he’d made other tweaks, and fast healing was one of them.

  Orson guided Aphrodite the last few meters. The water next to the ship foamed as the stern and bow thrusters shoved it sideways. Teams of Scions spilled from hatches fore and aft, dragging thick ropes to loop over bollards affixed to the pier.

  “I want the bus and all supplies off this boat in an hour,” Humphrey told Summer as she was about to leave the bridge. “And then figure out how to sink her.”

  Her large brown eyes glistened, but she nodded in understanding. Strange girl.

  Vaughan appeared on the holodesk. “Humphrey, you will want to see this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Senator Bentilius.” A video rectangle materialized over his shoulder. A woman with very flowy hair was speaking directly to the camera. The words “BREAKING NEWS ALERT” were emblazoned in red at the bottom of the screen.

  “We have just received word that Senator Maxine Bentilius is alive. The Senator—who has been suffering from brain cancer—disappeared last week. Many believed she had gone into hospice for her final days of life. I can now confirm that she is alive. I repeat, Senator Bentilius is alive. The 84-year-old senator is well known for—hold on . . .” The woman pressed a finger to one ear. “My producer is saying that Senator Bentilius is about to make a statement right here on SNN.”

  Wanda’s hand brushed Humphrey’s. “If she appears on this . . . video program . . . won’t everyone see it?”

  “Yes. Obviously.”

  “But I thought the Scions were a secret. I thought she was going to reappear as her own granddaughter or something.”

  Humphrey was just as confused as Wanda. He sensed Dr. Carlhagen’s hand in this. And that meant it wasn’t going to be good for the Scions.

  The newscaster smiled. “Senator, welcome to the program. I understand that you have a statement.”

  The image cut to the senator. Belle’s face, coolly beautiful, filled the rectangle. The voice was Belle’s in timbre, but not in phrasing. As irritating as Belle had been to Humphrey over the years, he could feel nothing but sadness to see her face brought before the world in the service of the senator.

  “Oh, it looks like we’re still waiting for the senator to get ready,” said the reporter, not recognizing the pale girl on camera.

  “No. I am Senator Bentilius. I understand your confusion, since I have this lovely new body.”

  Humphrey, Wanda, and Vaughan all said the same thing at the same time. “Oh no.”

  12

  Isn’t That What’s-Her-Name?

  “When are Meow Meow and Dante coming?” Jacey asked Siggy. He was back in the chair by the window, still poring over something on his tablet. His manner was less friendly now. More rigid.

  She sensed he was feverishly trying to find something out, or maybe quickly making last-minute arrangements. It related to her. That was absolutely clear from the way he occasionally glanced at her and smirked.

  She’d used the down time to shower, triple-checking to make sure the bathroom door was locked. In the process she washed off the raccoon-mask makeup Meows had painted around her eyes. Feeling moderately refreshed despite a slight headache, she got dressed and used a hot air machine she found attached to the wall to dry her hair. Meow Meow had made it look so easy, but Jacey ended up with a bad case of Medusa-head.

  Siggy was still in the chair when she came out, patting her crazy hair down as best she could. The monitor was showing another of Jackie B.’s movies. She plopped onto the bed and watched. When We Remember the War turned out to be a hopelessly melodramatic story about two old people who met at a coffee shop and through conversation slowly realized they had been lovers during the California War. Most of the film was done in heavy-handed flashbacks, dramatic lighting, bombs falling while the lovers kissed. “I’ll come back to you,” Jackie’s character rasped, tears welling but not falling, as a soldier dragged her off to a prisoner of war camp. “I swear it.”

  Siggy’s eyes snapped up. “Switch it back to SNN.”

  “Why?”

  “Do it.” All pretense of friendliness was gone. His beard and smile were a paper-thin mask concealing something hungry and ruthless.

  She switched to SNN and immediately saw why he’d wanted it on.

  Senator Bentilius was talking to the camera. An extremely fake smile stretched her cheeks, showing the tops of her white teeth as she spoke. Belle’s snowy hair was tucked behind her ears, but the woman’s posture was nothing like Belle’s. It was too open, gave the impression of someone who enjoyed being seen by many people.

  Jacey didn’t recognize the wall behind her. Paneling. It looked like something Dr. Carlhagen would choose. It could be anywhere.

  The senator’s pantsuit was oddly tailored, bunching at the elbows and too loose at the throat.

  The imaged cut to the SNN interviewer. Text at the bottom of the screen said she was Uma Pulu. Her auburn hair had been fluffed and sculpted to perfection. “But can you prove to our audience that you are Senator Bentilius? Why don’t you look like yourself?”

  “While I answer that, I’d like your sweet young producer Maggie to search for images of Korra Bolelli. I know your producer is listening, she’ll get on it. Now, as for proof, let me go down the list of my accomplishments as senator from the great district of Illinois.”

  She ticked off on her fingers as she went on and on about bills and legislation and plague victim programs and funding the Iowa/Missouri wall.

  Siggy hoisted himself out of his chair. He took the remote from Jacey and muted the sound.

  “She goes on and on, just like the senator.” He wasn’t looking at the TV. His eyes were locked on Jacey, the calculating look so obvious she imagined the clicking and churning of the machinery in his mind. As if a bell finally sounded, his eyebrows raised. He sat next to her on the bed, very close.

  “I’m thinking I believe this bitch. I’m thinking she looks exactly like Korra Bolelli.” He held up his tablet. On the screen was a picture of a young woman who looked like Belle, wearing a black gown. She was standing next to a handsome older man in a black suit and bow tie. “Korra’s husband was a race car driver. Very good. Very rich.”

  “If she looks like this Bolelli woman,” Jacey said, “what sense does it make that she’s this senator person?” Jacey scooted away from Siggy, but he followed her, his thigh pressing against hers, his meaty hand dropping onto her knee.

  His voice was a weird whisper, as if he were confiding a secret to her. “I thought you were just a damn fine carbo. Same with Dante. I figured somebody got ahold of some fancy DNA somehow and decided to go into the business of making a modern day, walking, talking Madam Tussaud’s. I figured, that’s pretty neat. I know twenty people who’d like one of you Jackies traipsing around their mansions, serving them tea. Serving them in all kinds of ways.”

  Jacey got up and put a wall to her back. “Stay away from me. I want to see my friends. Now.”

  “But now I see this bitch on SNN and I start thinking to myself, ‘Siggy? What if these aren’t just simple carbos? What if there’s something else going on?’ I figure, maybe somebody finally cracked it. They got some kind of anti-aging science figured out. Now they can take an old bat like Senator Bentilius and rejuvenate her or something. The carbo labs all are working on that, you know.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He unmuted the program. Senator Bentilius was in the middle of another long speech. She was saying, “And so you see, Uma, there is nobody who could know any of that except for me. I am Maxine Bentilius.”

  Uma Pulu had lots of teeth, which she showed to the camera. Her eyes squinted and twinkled. “So I must ask, then, the obvious question. Why don’t you look like the Senator Ben
tilius we all know and admire?”

  “I was hoping you’d ask. The answer is simple. There is a new technology. A revolutionary procedure that transfers the entirety of a patient’s brain structure to a clone body. I had always admired Korra Bolelli, such a beautiful and charming woman, so for my next fifty years I thought it would be nice to enjoy a new image.”

  Maggie the producer had done her job. A photo of Korra popped onto the screen.

  “He did it,” Jacey breathed, hugging her arms to her body. “I can’t believe he actually went through with it.” Dr. Carlhagen had announced his program to the world.

  Uma Pulu exploded with glee and pronouncements of this being the biggest news story of the century. “And so these other doppelgängers we’ve seen recently. Vin Burnell, Dante Silva, and this Jacey girl who looks like Jacqueline Buchanan. These individuals have undergone the same procedure, haven’t they?”

  “I can’t speak for anyone else. All I—”

  “We’ve seen images of the young man Ping, who was murdered on Vin’s island. He was the unknown heir to Han Xi’s billions. Surely you can admit that this rash of hidden princes and princesses makes sense only in light of your revelations today.”

  “As I said, I’m only going to speak about my situation. But let me address these individuals directly.” The senator paused, then said, “You are wanted for questioning by the IPA. As a representative of the North American Union, I’m pleading with you to you turn yourselves in. There are surveillance cameras everywhere. All you need do is to go somewhere public, raise your arms, and wait. You will not be harmed. And if you had nothing to do with Ping’s murder, I assure you the old policies about carbos need not apply to you. In fact, if a mind transfer has taken place, then you automatically have all the rights and privileges of any citizen of this great nation.”

  Jacey frowned at the monitor. “That’s just . . . stupid.”

  But maybe the senator was actually warning Jacey to keep her head down. Yes. That made far more sense. And that confirmed that Senator Bentilius was still with Dr. Carlhagen. Otherwise the senator wouldn’t care what happened to Jacey. Or Dante, for that matter.

  Dr. Carlhagen must have some leverage over the woman.

  Like a kick to the chin, Jacey remembered the ATR meds Dante had told her about. Dr. Carlhagen had created some kind of hormonal deficiency in each of the Scions at the time of mind transfer. Vin, Ping, and Dante had to take a customized ATR pill every day or they’d eventually go into a coma. Dr. Carlhagen was the only source for refills. Of course he had done the same to Senator Bentilius.

  What a devious man. Jacey realized now that everything the senator was saying was intended for her.

  The news host was pressing Senator Bentilius for more. “So it sounds like you are confirming that at least Dante and Jacey are carbos of this new type. Are they, in fact, Silvio Silva and Jacqueline Buchanan?”

  Senator Bentilius smiled and shook her head. “Jacqueline Buchanan died in a sailing accident, as far as I know. As for this Silvio person, I’m afraid I’ve never heard of him.”

  “Ooh. Dante’s gonna need some lidocaine to soothe that burn,” Siggy said, chuckling. His eyes darted from the screen to Jacey’s face.

  Umu Pulu changed the subject. “Vin Burnell was taken into custody this morning, as I’m sure you’re aware. Do you believe her claim that she’s the secret granddaughter of Elizabeth Burnell, the famous talk show host? Or is she really Elizabeth herself?”

  The senator’s lips parted and her cheeks flushed. Jacey knew that Belle had always hated how blushing showed up on her pale skin. The senator said, “I have not spoken with anyone at the Agency today. I—” She looked off-camera momentarily, just a slight shift of the eyes followed by a curt nod of understanding.

  Jacey’s heart hammered. Dr. Carlhagen was in the room with the woman. The senator had been looking at Dr. Carlhagen for direction on what to say.

  What was Dr. Carlhagen’s game? Why have Senator Bentilius come out like this and reveal his whole program?

  Senator Bentilius went on: “I just want to say that if Jacey is out there listening, there are people who love you and want to help you. Don’t let this scandal drive you underground. If you want to reach out to me directly, I’d be happy to talk to you. Captain W. in Chicago will see you’re treated fairly. Let’s all cooperate and clear up this misunderstanding. About Ping. About everything.”

  The room swayed before Jacey’s eyes at the mention of the captain.

  Captain Wilcox was in Chicago. If he’d followed her here, then the IPA couldn’t be far behind.

  But that bit earlier about having all the rights and privileges of a citizen had been to warn Jacey that she had anything but such rights. If the IPA caught her, she was as good as dead. The senator was signaling that Jacey would only be safe by turning herself over to Captain Wilcox. That bit about clearing up the misunderstanding was code for “submit to Dr. Carlhagen’s will.”

  “Like hell,” Jacey muttered.

  Uma Pulu cut in. “So tell us more about this procedure you had done. Did it hurt? How long was your recovery? What did it cost?”

  Siggy muted the program. With great deliberation he set the remote onto the hideous bedspread. “So. Who are you inside there, Foxy?” He stepped toward her.

  Jacey backed down the short hall toward the door. She knew she had no chance of escape. He’d reach her before she could get the door halfway open.

  “Maybe you are Jacqueline Buchanan,” he said. “Or maybe some other rich old babe. Or maybe you’re a man. The perfect transition to female. I’ll admit, that might be fun to try for a few weeks.”

  Jacey didn’t think any answer would improve her chances for escape, and the wrong one might provoke an attack of some sort.

  Siggy’s tablet vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it free and gave it an angry jab. “What?”

  A tinny voice blasted through the device’s tiny speaker: “She broke my nose.”

  “Who did?”

  “That cat freak, who do ya think?”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. She ran out.”

  Siggy stabbed the tablet with a finger, cutting the guy off. He made another couple jabs. “Marlo. Do you have Dante with you?”

  No answer. Jacey slowly stepped backward again. The bathroom door was open. Maybe she could get in and lock it shut.

  “Marlo?”

  A ruckus erupted in the hallway, footsteps and voices. Next came a hollow thumping on the door. “Jacey?”

  It was Dante.

  “I’m in here!” she called. “Get me out.”

  The door rattled.

  Siggy shoved forward, casually grabbing Jacey’s shoulder and throwing her behind him. She caught herself on the bed. Rage flared in her mind, like fire in the Scion School burning barrel when it consumed a new Dolphin’s clothes.

  She looked around for a weapon. Anything heavy. The lamps were affixed to the wall. The video monitor was, too.

  She considered the chair by the window. But it was too big, too heavy.

  Siggy faced the door. Bang after bang shuddered in the room as Dante kicked. Meow Meow was calling now, too.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Siggy said to Jacey. He held a pistol in one hand. Must have had it inside his coat.

  “Or what? You’ll shoot me?” she said. The whole thing felt like a scene from a Jackie B. movie.

  Anger propelled her toward the man, step by step. “I thought a carbo like me was worth a lot of money. Wasn’t that what you were thinking? Sell me? Maybe hold me for ransom?”

  “Actually, I was thinking of renting you out.” His eyes glazed her from foot to head. “You’ve got five or ten good years in you.”

  “Meow Meow trusted you.”

  He raised the weapon. “I think you could survive a gunshot. These are small bullets. I’m a pretty good aim. It’ll hurt like hell, though.”

  The door crashed open and Dante spilled in.

  S
iggy spun, gun following his turn.

  Jacey launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his. The gun fired.

  The sound slapped at Jacey’s ears. The smell of acrid smoke burned her nostrils. Siggy was spinning, trying to shake her off.

  Grunts blew from his nose.

  She got her forearm against his Adam’s apple and leaned back, not caring if he fell on top of her, not caring about anything but bringing him down.

  Meow Meow’s cries had turned from frantic to furious. Endless obscenities poured from her lips. Her tiny hands clamped onto Siggy’s wrist, forcing the gun up and away.

  Dante’s face no longer held any of his usual mischievousness. His jaw thrust forward, lower teeth bared. His fist smashed Siggy’s face, his gut.

  Siggy absorbed these blows with grunts. He flailed with his free hand to return the pain.

  Jacey hiked herself higher on his back, taking a sharp blow in the ribs from his elbow. The pain shattered her. She lost her grip on his throat.

  “Enough of this,” Meow Meow screamed. She let go of his gun hand, spun, and kicked Siggy between the legs.

  He folded forward, Jacey still holding on.

  Then he was on his knees. Meow Meow tore the gun from his hand and turned it on him.

  “Sorry, Sigs,” she said. “But you’re fired.”

  Dante leveled a roundhouse kick that took Siggy in the temple. The man collapsed in a heap, spilling Jacey to the carpet.

  Hands yanked at her, got her to her feet.

  And then they were stumbling down the hallway and into a concrete stairwell that echoed with their heavy breaths and footsteps. Meow Meow tucked the gun into the back of her jeans, just like Jacey had seen Jackie B. do.

  Dante stopped short on the 4th floor. His mouth parted, as if he’d just remembered something important. “Dammit. I need to go back to my room.”

  Meow Meow yanked his arm. “You’re a lunatic. In what universe would that be a good idea?”

  “It won’t take a minute. I just need to get something. You two keep going.” He shoved past Jacey and started back up. Even with his young, Scion body—trained to peak fitness by Sensei—his forehead glistened with sweat and his breath rasped in his throat.