Scions of Sacrifice

by Eric Kent Edstrom

  Tension gripped Athena’s navigation bridge as Mr. Justin’s Island shrank into a greenish haze on the horizon. Humphrey stood in his usual spot behind Orson, the map table separating them.

  Dr. Carlhagen’s holodesk still occupied a big chunk of floor space. Vaughan and Belle’s server rested atop it. Another similar box—Madam LaFontaine’s AI server—lay on the floor beneath it, powered up but disconnected from the network.

  Kirk and Leslie were leaning next to the rear doorway, whispering to each other about whether or not they were sailing to their deaths. Their expressions could not have been more different. Kirk’s was intent, tight, and pressurized. Leslie’s was calm, but inward.

  “That girl’s some sort of wizard,” Orson said, talking about Summer. “We’re making 21 knots and I’m only half-throttle ahead.”

  The thrum of the engines transmitted through the steel superstructure and into Humphrey’s feet. Athena purred—especially compared to how she’d shuddered and rattled just days earlier.

  As if Orson’s words were a summons, Summer stumbled through the door with Elias in tow. Both were giggling. Summer’s face was alight with mischievous glee. She reached back to shove Elias’s shoulder. “Stop it. You’re terrible.” She put the back of her hand to her mouth and whispered to him, “Not really.”

  Realizing that everyone was staring at them, they mastered their giggling. Mostly. Elias’s cheeks flushed bright red.

  Summer sketched a mocking salute toward Humphrey. “Engines one and two operating nominally. She can give us more speed.”

  Humphrey nodded to Orson, who plopped a meaty hand on the throttle lever and pushed forward. There was little perceptible change in the vibration and the ship, but Orson reported the slowly climbing speed as Summer’s modified engines shoved the ship through the waves.

  “Thirty-five knots,” Orson said, shaking his head in amazement. “It won’t outrun a naval ship, but it’ll take them a lot longer to catch us. This speed would have been unheard of back in the old days.”

  Summer ambled forward and inspected the various gauges and meters arrayed on Orson’s navigation console. She tapped one, a white gauge with a needle showing a temperature reading. “If that gets above 200 degrees Celsius,” Summer said, “reduce throttle to 50 percent for an hour. My engine mods may have some negative effects on other aspects of the ship’s systems.”

  Seeing Humphrey’s concern, she said, “Nothing to worry about. We’ll be to Dr. Carlhagen’s island in less than three hours at this speed.”

  “That’ll put us there in broad daylight,” Leslie said, stepping next to Humphrey. Her cropped hair was now bunched in a short tail at the back, but locks fell across her face. “I don’t claim to have a particularly strategic mind, but that doesn’t seem like the best time to go ashore.”

  Since giving in to Leslie and Kirk, a new pressure had clamped over Humphrey’s mind. He didn’t feel like he was in command of the mission any more. Not that there was much to decide now. Not until they could see the island and scout out what they were up against. Arriving in full daylight was essential for that very reason. But Leslie was right, they could hardly go ashore and storm Dr. Carlhagen’s compound—whatever it was—while the sun was up.

  “I agree. We can’t go at it directly,” Humphrey said. He looked at the map, but it didn’t inspire any strategy since St. Lazarus wasn’t on it. “We’ll need to circle, study the coast through binoculars, and select the best landing spot.”

  Elias came around to his other side and glanced vaguely at the map. “What’s the position of the fleet now?”

  Humphrey cocked his head up. “Vaughan? Are you listening?”

  Vaughan’s voice, monotone and distant, came from the holodesk. His avatar did not appear. “Yes.”

  “Well?” Humphrey said. “Do you have more information about where the fleet is?”

  “Yes. You’re safe. For now.”

  Summer’s eyebrows bunched, and she sneered slightly as if to say, “What’s up with him?”

  Gauging by the other faces around the bridge, everyone wondered the same thing.

  Humphrey approached the holodesk. “That’s not what I asked. Where is the fleet?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  A shaft of blue shot up from the holodesk, forming a cylinder that covered the depth of the old mahogany relic. The blue light receded, leaving behind a holographic map of the surrounding Caribbean. Athena was positioned at the edge close to Humphrey. Mr. Justin’s Island lay half a meter behind the Scions’ ship. Their destination was not within range of the map’s zoom radius.

  Across the desk was an array of naval vessels. An aircraft carrier, many times the size of Athena, was featured in the center of the grouping. Vaughan caused the naval vessels to glow red, indicating danger. Based on the direction of their bows, the fleet was sailing on an intercept course with Athena. Hundreds of smaller vessels—fishing trawlers, small traders, cruise ships—appeared ghosted in yellow.

  “This is the situation as of twenty minutes ago,” Vaughan said. “There was some guesswork required, as some captains who have spotted the fleet may have misreported what they’ve seen. For instance, a fishing trawler one hundred thirty-seven nautical kilometers north of us reported seeing the carrier where it could not possibly have been. I believe this was a misidentification, and the captain merely saw a picketing destroyer ship.”

  “So this is your best guess?” Humphrey said, emphasizing the last word.

  “I’m an AI. I have not relied solely on reports of the position of the fleet, but have also run millions of simulations. This is—more or less—where the fleet is.”

  Summer had wandered over, fascinated by the holographic display. “What’s their speed? Will they intercept us before we make St. Lazarus?”

  “Doubtful. The fleet is following a zigzag protocol, changing their heading by up to 40° every thirty minutes.”

  “But they’re coming toward us,” Summer said. “They know where we are heading.”

  “That is one interpretation,” Vaughan said. “More likely, the senator has requested them to come to St. Lazarus.”

  Humphrey supposed that did make sense. But only if the senator was free to make that decision, which he doubted. Dr. Carlhagen wouldn’t want a military force under someone else’s command surrounding him.

  “If the fleet is closing in, we may be forced to land during daylight and send Athena to her watery grave.”

  Dismayed, Summer said, “They won’t recognize her. There’s no reason to scuttle Athena.”

  “Can we risk it, though?” Kirk asked.

  Humphrey agreed. Even if the navy didn’t recognize her as Aphrodite, they’d certainly ask questions of any ship close to St. Lazarus.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Summer said to him. “But consider this. Assume we’re successful and we get Livy back, and we capture or . . . whatever with Dr. Carlhagen and the senator. How are we going to get away from St. Lazarus?”

  Humphrey felt the eyes of everyone on the bridge—even Orson’s—boring into him. They all wanted to hear his answer.

  So did Humphrey. But he didn’t have one.

  “Athena is our only way out,” Summer said.

  No one contradicted her. No one could.

  27

  Pressure Bleeds

  Heaters: online

  Body temperature: 34ºC

  Skin Temperature: 31ºC

  Blood viscosity: 4.13x10-3 Pa-s

  Blood pressure: 120/90

  Heart rate: 49 BPM

  The ventilator fan in the cryopod cuts off. A soft hiss fills the cramped space as pressure bleeds from a valve on the lid.

  Ten more needles retract from the subject’s skin. The bed of the pod vibrates at 30 cycles per second to encourage blood flow.

  The eyes stay closed, but REM movements are observed.

  Lazarus is satisfied. The body is strong.

  A nightmare descends upon the mind that will soon be Livy. U
nconsciousness still eclipses wakefulness.

  28

  A Strategy

  “–crates.”

  Belle stood in the weedy parking lot, but she was aware that several hours had passed in the real world during the moments it had taken her to say Socrates’s name.

  Awareness of where Athena was positioned on the sea rose to her mind, too, courtesy of Vaughan. And with it came the realization that he had kept her frozen long after he himself had awakened when their server had been rebooted aboard the ship.

  Before she could even ask why, Vaughan passed his reasoning into her consciousness. He had needed the processing power she would’ve otherwise taken up. Something about tracking the naval fleet. He had delayed her processes from restarting until he’d been willing to free up the CPU cycles.

  Incensed and terrified, she sent herself to the holodesk on Athena’s navigation bridge.

  “Humphrey? I need to speak with you immediately.”

  Humphrey started at the sound of her voice, then turned to face her. “Belle? What is it?”

  Leslie followed behind him, and Belle could see Kirk and Elias in the background. Too many ears for what she had to say.

  “I need to speak with Humphrey—and you too, Leslie, I suppose—privately.”

  Humphrey hesitated. Belle said, “Now.”

  There was a bustle on the bridge, accompanied by more than a few complaints, but the sounds of people filing out finally stilled. Humphrey and Leslie return to the holodesk, faces impatient. No. Not impatient. Worried.

  Again the odd sense of knowledge appearing in Belle’s mind jolted her. She now understood the tactical situation with Senator Bentilius’s naval fleet. No wonder the two were worried. She set the problem aside. They would have to handle it.

  “Did you see the president’s broadcast?”

  Judging by the looks on their faces, they had not. “Socrates, show them.”

  “Socrates is alive?” Humphrey asked, shocked.

  “No. He’s just—shut up and watch. Please.”

  Socrates caused a video window to appear over the holodesk. Belle waited, steaming with impatience, while Humphrey and Wanda watched the president’s announcement. Hearing the woman speak inflamed Belle’s anger. Once the president’s statement ended, Belle gave Humphrey and Wanda a moment to look at each other and collect their thoughts.

  Leslie spoke first, face pale but calm. “The president’s plan to transfer into . . . me . . . means that Dr. Carlhagen is in a bind. Are you thinking there’s a way to exploit that?”

  “I can think of two,” Belle said, rather unimpressed with their lack of insight. It seemed so obvious to her. “Think. If we know where Dr. Carlhagen’s hideout is, surely the North American Union—with all its resources—will eventually figure it out, too. What are the chances Senator Bentilius’s forces will stay loyal once the president dispatches another, larger force to the region when Dr. Carlhagen fails to deliver you?”

  Humphrey started to smile. The dawn of hope lit his face. “She’s right. Belle is absolutely right. The senator’s force will fall into line with the rest of the military. They’ll have to. So when the president discovers the old man doesn’t have Leslie, he’ll be in a very difficult situation. The president will want to take over his whole operation. He’ll be locked up at best.”

  But that was only part of it, Belle knew. She charged ahead. “So the obvious way to use this situation is to trade Leslie for Livy.”

  Humphrey’s eyes widened, his face reddened. “Are you out of your mind? How could you even suggest such a thing?”

  “It’s not a suggestion. It’s merely a strategy. Dr. Carlhagen has promised the president a transfer into Leslie. Dr. Carlhagen doesn’t have Leslie. We do. That gives us leverage. Bargaining power.”

  Humphrey was shaking his head in dismay. “Belle, I thought you had changed.”

  “Will you please shut up? How many times do I have to say I’m not suggesting we do it. I came here to talk you out of it in case Vaughan had already tried convincing you to do it.” She stamped her foot, adding a plume of smoke for emphasis.

  Leslie drew her chin in a little. “Vaughan hasn’t suggested it.”

  “Oh. Well, good. I was afraid you had already decided to do it because you could get Livy back without confrontation. That would give us a chance to—”

  “We understand it, Belle,” Humphrey said.

  And she saw that he did, for his face grew troubled, and thoughtful. The idea was sinking in. Now he was considering it. He shook his head, as if trying to shed the thought. It tempted him. Of course it would. They were sailing into an unknown situation, without weapons, without knowing the slightest thing about what they were going to find.

  “No.” He said, looking at Leslie with a deep sadness. “Leslie has suffered enough. We can’t ask her to let anyone overwrite her. Livy wouldn’t stand for it.”

  “Agreed. But there’s another way to use this information,” Belle said. “Dr. Carlhagen is not in control of events. He forced Senator Bentilius to go public with her mind transfer into my body because his hand was forced by the appearance of Jacey, Vin, Dante, and Ping all on the same island. He knew he had to get ahead of the story, move the public discourse away from outrage about it and toward acceptance of it. But he didn’t anticipate the president demanding to transfer so soon.”

  “But I don’t see how Dr. Carlhagen’s dilemma helps us get Livy back without trading Leslie,” Humphrey said.

  “Because you’re not thinking straight,” Belle said. “We have an opportunity to offer Dr. Carlhagen something else in trade for Livy.”

  Humphrey and Leslie figured it out simultaneously. They spoke over each other, their excitement growing. “Escape.”

  “He won’t go for it right away,” Belle said. “He won’t trust you. So you’ll have to convince him you won’t kill him or lock him up again.”

  “But we would,” Humphrey said. Leslie nodded in vigorous agreement.

  “I said ‘convince him,’ I didn’t say ‘tell him the truth.’ Really, Humphrey, you are awfully thickheaded for a Scion. “

  Humphrey chewed his bottom lip for a few moments. Belle could imagine the furious thoughts churning in his mind. “One problem,” he said, after a few moments. “Even if we wanted to offer the old man a way out, we have no way to contact him.”

  This was where Belle’s other project came in. “But Captain Wilcox can.”

  “That’s true,” Humphrey said, excitement growing in his face. “Let’s call him.”

  Belle nearly slapped her own face, remembering that Humphrey had duped Wilcox into thinking he was Dr. Carlhagen. But surely Wilcox knew better now. But Humphrey had done it using the very holodesk she was on. Socrates accessed the holodesk’s records and pulled up a call number for Wilcox’s home base on Vin’s island.

  Belle’s hopes crashed. “He won’t answer. He’s in Chicago, chasing after Jacey.”

  Humphrey swayed slightly. “You know where she is?”

  “No. But Wilcox is on her trail, and I’m on his.”

  Frustration burned in Belle’s chest. It was reflected in Humphrey’s face.

  “We have to talk to Wilcox,” Humphrey said. “He’ll get us in touch with the old man. It’s in his interest for Dr. Carlhagen to escape.”

  “I’m working on it,” Belle said. “Just focus on getting safely to St. Lazarus.”

  Humphrey’s face settled into stony quietude. He was obviously trying to master some strong emotions. His voice came out flat. “What’s happening with Jacey? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Belle explained everything she had learned so far about Jacey’s flight from Chicago. It didn’t ease Humphrey’s posture in the slightest.

  “I’m getting closer to Wilcox,” Belle assured him. “And Jacey won’t be too far ahead of him.”

  “What can we do to help you, Belle?” Leslie asked.

  “There’s noth—”

  29

  Wet Pa
int Sticky

  Humphrey tapped the holodesk. “Belle?”

  “What happened?” Leslie said.

  Humphrey shrugged. The holodesk had gone blank.

  Vaughan’s voice came from the speakers, but his avatar holo did not appear. “I apologize for interrupting your conversation. I needed Belle’s processing capacity. I’ve temporarily suspended her simulation.”

  The holodesk filled with blue light, then resolved into the familiar map showing the positions of Athena and the fleet. A spray of smaller dots was moving away from the fleet, directly toward the Scions’ ship.

  “What are those?” Humphrey asked.

  “Aircraft,” Vaughan replied. “Lots of them.”

  Humphrey spun away from the holodesk. “Orson, come about to”—his eyes scoured the map for a likely destination. There. A small island several hundred nautical kilometers away—”270 degrees.”

  “If they talk to us, they’ll recognize my voice,” Orson said as he turned the wheel to bring Athena onto her new course. “They have AIs for that these days.”

  “I’ll talk to them,” Summer said, coming onto the bridge, reader tucked in her right hand. Elias was right behind her. She didn’t look at Vaughan’s map. Apparently Vaughan had already told her what was happening.

  “You?” Kirk said, coming onto the bridge from where he and Elias had been banished during the conversation with Belle. “Why would a fourteen-year-old girl be on a ship’s radio?”

  “Family business running freight. I grew up on Athena. My parents assigned me to the navigation bridge while they attend to maintenance issues.”

  Orson’s face drew down into a considering scowl. “That just might work.”

  “It might,” Humphrey said. “But why her and not me?”

  “Or me?” Leslie said.

  “Because you won’t be on Athena.” Summer pointed through the windows to the dinghy she’d brought aboard on Mr. Justin’s Island. “You will be in on that, heading to St. Lazarus.”