I rarely prayed, and I didn’t then, but I came close.
This was in the hands of the aeons, from student to mentor. Human politicians could influence the process with a few votes, but the debate would allow every aeon to have his or her voice heard in the final count. Those numbers far surpassed the number of city councilors, even with the relatively small aeon population.
I’d helped cover the news, but the aeons were about to make history. I settled in to reach out to refugee leaders and their assistants that evening. At the least, I could take my mind off the debate.
Unregistered Memory, Rebecca Waters, En Route to Candlegrove Heights
Rebecca checked the network regularly as she rode in the middle seat of Thomas’ van toward the aeon heights. They crossed multiple bridges in the early morning. The rainfall diminished, and orange sunlight filtered through the pale clouds in parts of the eastern sky.
They parked in an ordinary-looking underground garage beneath the immense structure of Candlegrove Heights. They went through security, then took an elevator upward into the stranger construction of the aeon building. The heights were the most advanced structures in the city, each one a complex of living plants and flowing power veins all supported by metallic beams and hollow piping.
Rebecca remembered her first time in one of the buildings, almost six years ago when she met Yashelia there.
Back then, Yashelia had been sane, generous, and enigmatic. She had hired Rebecca as an operative within the council. Rebecca accepted the arrangement eagerly. If only she could now recall how her arrangement with the aeon had ended.
Thomas had told her of his research team’s findings. The irregularities in Rebecca’s blood must have been added in the blank places of her memory where nothing remained. If she the differences could be repaired, whatever unknown affliction in her blood cured, she would still lack for answers.
“You alright?” Thomas asked.
The elevator doors opened onto their destination level.
“I don’t know yet. That’s why I’m here.”
He nodded, lips pinched together.
Celsanoggi led the two of them down a hallway from the elevator, a passage glowing with yellow light veins. She wore a gown of violet in place of her usual hooded sweats and durable pants. The aeon who kept her identity as the lone sentry secret from most again reminded Rebecca of her time with Yashelia’s operators.
Once, Rebecca and a team of others had clashed with the sentry. At the time the aeon had been enraged, completely and vividly, but Rebecca never knew why. Nor did she dare ask Celsanoggi, lest she betrayed the fact of her involvement in what was no-doubt a bruising memory for both sides.
The three of them stopped by a large set of sealed doors with no label on them where all the light veins in the passage terminated.
“Password?” a voice said, project into all three of their minds.
“Onogottos, let us in,” said Celsanoggi out loud, though she was clearly networking to reach the other aeon.
The doors unsealed.
Rebecca, Thomas, and Celsa walked into a room that could have been a white box, a sterile chamber with only one egress point. Tables of the same material lined the walls, covered in different apparatus each attended by a lab-coated figure. A heavy-set aeon, such a rarity in the megalopolis, approached them and doffed a medical cap from his short blond hair. He was the only aeon other than Celsanoggi in the room.
“Onogottos,” said Thomas. “Good to finally meet in the flesh.”
The aeon held out a hand, palm covered by a medical patch, concealing the wound there.
“Likewise, Mister Fenstein.”
While they shook, Rebecca looked around the room.
She recognized little of the equipment but caught glimmers of golden liquid in many of the vials and tubes. Ichor would be necessary for most of their experiments.
“What, no love for the big man?” asked Onogottos, turning to Celsanoggi.
She shook her head.
“Just because you’re up to something useful doesn’t change the past, Ono.”
“Fine. Shit, you’d think I ran over your dog on the way here.”
Celsanoggi shrugged.
“Poor analogy. I don’t keep a pet.”
Onogottos raised an eyebrow and turned pointedly away from Thomas.
Celsanoggi folded her arms.
“Are we going to get down to business or not?”
“Introduce me to your friend, first,” said Onogottos.
“My name is Rebecca,” she said. “I’m here about my blood.”
“So terse. Do you and my sister here get along?”
Not exactly, Rebecca thought, but I won’t go there now.
“We only met recently,” she said. “But you might have guessed that, given the nature of the sample.”
“Rain…” said Onogottos. “Rebecca Rain. Precisely the woman I wanted to see.”
“Call me Rebecca Waters.”
“Understood. So, Miss Waters, let us see what’s going on under your skin, shall we?”
Rebecca nodded. “It’s time to get some answers.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” said the big aeon.
Unregistered Memory, Elizabeth Ashwood, The Harper Building
Elizabeth met Lena Essen at the elevator on the ground floor of the Harper Building. Both of them wore tailored suits, and Elizabeth carried her purse. A recent dose made the sunlight pouring through the glass doors at her back brighter than day, in spite of the clouds.
“Sarah is planning on meeting us upstairs at the sky dock,” said the young woman. “Did she send you a copy of the itinerary?”
“We’re planning on visiting the heights today.”
“Have you ever been?” asked Lena.
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Well, the security is intense,” said Lena. “Can you imagine what kind of people worry aeons?”
The elevator arrived and they stepped inside.
Elizabeth could not help but recall the renegade soldiers who had turned on Sudhatho over the winter. She supposed they were exactly the people the heights’ security wanted to keep out. Two of the four, Damien and Carol, were still at large.
Elizabeth shrugged.
“I wish I had to imagine.”
Lena frowned.
“You’re a lot more serious than your partner.”
“Jeth can be silly. I’m happy to be here, but this is a business excursion for me.”
Lena smirked.
“I like that. I have a feeling we’ll get along well.”
“Better once we know each other more,” said Elizabeth.
The elevator rushed up to the sky docking level.
Sarah waited with a blonde female aeon who she introduced as Vistenna.
“She’ll be flying us to Candlegrove,” said Sarah.
Vistenna bowed her head.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Ashwood.”
“Call me Elizabeth.” She bowed back.
They launched shortly and cruised over the city in the sleek light vessel. Elizabeth had gotten used to seeing the flying vessels over the last year, but only recently became comfortable with actually traveling in them. The flight path was smooth, and mostly free of turbulence despite the storm outside. How people had used the old airplanes and other independent aircraft before the arrival of the aeons she could hardly believe.
They landed at Candlegrove and started through security. Vistenna frowned at something as she entered the checkpoint, bringing up the rear of the group. Elizabeth guessed she might be nervous about the vote the aeons would be conducting later that day.
Sarah turned to the aeon.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes.” Vistenna’s eyes welled up with tears. “One of my little brothers who lived here is dead. They don’t know which, yet.”
Elizabeth’s eye widened.
“How do you know?”
“The mentor of this building just contacte
d me,” said Vistenna. “There can be no mistake.” She wiped her eyes. “Excuse me. If we’re to meet with Governor Balancar on time, we should continue at once.”
Sarah nodded, looking solemn.
“Thank you, Vistenna. We can find our way if you need to wait from here.”
Vistenna bowed again.
“I’ll be here when you wish to return.”
Sarah led Elizabeth and Lena from the sky docks and into the building. Business had left Elizabeth’s mind. All she could do was wonder who or what could or would kill an aeon.
Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Lightship Astra III
Candlegrove towered over even the other buildings of the aeon heights. Positioned just across the canal from the low buildings of the refugee district, its looming coppery facade was as ominous a sight to Ryan Carter as the central command center had been in the early winter. He had adjusted to regularly visiting Command Center Alpha, but dearly hoped he would not have to do so with any of the massive structures of the heights that dwarfed even the colossal towers of the northern islands.
Ryan watched the building pensively as Kamuek, the only aeon on his team, guided the light ship closer. The gaseous bubbles of aerial security pickets and more substantially-built light fighters hovered over the canal, providing security for Candlegrove from whatever the higher aeons thought a bunch of poor, exhausted humans fleeing their homes in the west could do to the community of superhuman beings that dwelt in the heights.
He amended that last line of thought with a grimace.
The aeons may not need to worry about ordinary refugees, but some of the danger is real.
Ryan could not forget why he and his team had been called. One of the aeon students still training in the heights had been murdered.
“What’re you thinking?” asked Alesia, one of his partners in the detective agency.
She approached from the hall that led to the narrow aft section of the Astra III.
Ryan glanced at her, taking in her tall frame and blond ponytail.
“I’m thinking this couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. “Everyone is on edge because of council tensions. Taking out Sudhatho really shook up the Teloite power structure. Not to mention…”
Kamuek grunted from the helm, but Alesia didn’t notice.
“…now that we know aeons can reproduce,” she said, “this will be the biggest debate since they arrived.”
“Leave it!” said Kamuek. “I feel bad enough already.”
Alesia glanced at the slender pilot.
“Sorry, Kam.”
The aeon shook his head.
“Forgive me. I’m tense as well as sad.”
Kamuek doubted he knew the murdered student out loud to Ryan earlier in the flight. Still, all aeons saw each other as siblings after a fashion. A death in a family, even a family of thousands, was bound to bring sorrow.
Ryan’s gaze fell to the floor.
“Nobody blames you, Captain.”
“That goes double, seeing as we don’t know anything real about the case yet,” said the other human member of the agency, Conner Kohl from the other side of the bridge.
The heavyset sensocycler rose with an obvious effort from his seat. He ambled over to Ryan and Alesia.
“You didn’t find anything?” Alesia said with a frown.
“The local network is locked down tight,” said Conner. “Though I managed to locate a nice diner the cleaning staff frequent nearby.”
“You snooped on their food?” Alesia arched her brows.
“Like I said, they’re locked down tight. Not to mention pretty much all of the permanent residents are aeons, except for the security staff and adjutants.”
Ryan nodded. Aeons could not be tracked over the standard neural networks because their minds existed, whether partially or fully Ryan did not know, within the alien trees growing at the center of many of the city’s numerous gardens. Ryan and his team knew about the trees, but most citizens lacked any inkling of the odd flora’s relationship to the governors and protectors who kept humanity and kept them safe.
He took a deep breath as Kamuek maneuvered the ship into the dock.
“What’s the situation with human visitors over the last few days?”
“Recorded numbers are slim,” said Conner.
“How slim?”
Conner pinched his thumb and forefingers together, leaving no gap.
“None before the murder. Still can’t rule out security failure. Five since the body was found. In a few seconds, the local security network will register us as three more.”
“Any knowledge of who the other three are?” asked Ryan.
“Yeah. They’re all officially registered. Want the names?”
“Please,” said Ryan.
Conner folded his hands over his belly. “Sarah Harper and two of her group arrived an hour ago. The others registered just a bit before her. They’re friends of ours. Thomas Fenstein and Rebecca Waters.”
“Thomas,” said Alesia with a frown. “Does that mean—?”
“Celsanoggi could be here too, then,” said Ryan.
He didn’t like the implications of Rebecca being there. She tended to bring too many odd events with her.
“Thomas and Celsanoggi aren’t joined at the hip, Ryan.” Alesia folded her arms. “But if she’s here that could complicate matters.”
“I agree,” said Ryan. “I think the bigger issue is Rebecca, even with what we know about Celsanoggi.”
He and his team were privy to another piece of information few others knew. Celsanoggi, a governing aeon, was also the vigilante known as the lone sentry. An ex-military aeon, these days she partnered with a fellow former soldier, Thomas. The two had been helpful in bringing down the former leader of the Teloite faction, Sudhatho.
Good thing we all know how to keep secrets.
Ryan checked the small flask of ichor on his belt.
Before he left the ship for Candlegrove’s interior, he looked at the others.
“I’ll connect with you once I’ve got our clearance on the scene.”
They answered with understanding nods. Kamuek’s mouth formed a thin line.
Ryan turned to the aeon. “If you feel the need, Kam, you don’t have to see the scene.”
“Ryan. I don’t know if I can let this pass.”
“If that’s how you feel.”
Ryan understood at least one aspect of what Kamuek meant. Until Ryan witnessed the slaughter in the garden late last autumn, he might not have reached Kamuek’s meaning. Seeing death changed a person, whether human or aeon.
He nodded to the ship’s captain, then turned and walked down the docking ramp into Candlegrove Heights.
Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Candlegrove Heights
A female aeon who made Ryan feel even shorter by towering over him led the way out of the dock. While the aerial landing facilities resembled those used in the predominantly human-used structures of the rest of the city, the interior of Candlegrove was far more alien.
Ryan’s guide registered his name, occupation, and purpose for visiting with the building’s network security index. The process seemed instantaneous, like blinking with his minds-eye, but the clock Ryan kept in his mind told him he had been out on his feet for almost two minutes during the background check.
His guide gave him a satisfied nod, but her eyes were sad. Like Kamuek, she must be feeling solemn, given the situation.
She led Ryan onward, through halls of porous-looking metallic material, under red and yellow light veins that cast his shadow in unpredictable directions with every step, past transparent pipes that looked empty to the eye, but radiated heat, and to an open atrium with a vaulted ceiling. Small streams flowed alongside tiled paths. Plants bloomed in the yellow glow from the veins high above, nourished by false solar light.
All of it seemed miraculous, given this entire room was eighty stories or more in the air. On the other sid
e of a atrium, they entered another corridor. Unlike the brightly lit places they had been before, the light veins here were inactive.
“The dormitory,” said his guide. “He was found in his chambers.” She motioned to a doorway a short distance down the shadowed hallway. “Another investigator is already present.”
“Thank you,” said Ryan.
She stood by the entrance to corridor, letting him proceed alone. His spine tingled with nervous electricity as he approached the door in the little light that followed him from the atrium.
Within the room, the light veins flickered erratically over a figure with long black hair and pallid skin offset by dark clothes. The aeon investigator stood in the center of a spacious living room, a few meters from the entrance. He looked up as Ryan entered.
“Detective Carter,” he said in a raspy voice.
Ryan approached the aeon, offering a hand as a way to hide his surprise at the investigator’s identity.
“Governor Balancar,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were investigating this personally.”
Balancar ignored Ryan’s offer to shake. His black-gloved hands remained locked together.
“I sponsor many students in this and other structures, detective. Never before have I lost one this way.”
Ryan withdrew his hand.
“Excuse me, sir. Not the question I should have asked first.”
“You are correct,” said Balancar.
Ryan nearly shivered under the governing aeon’s icy gaze.
“Where is the body?”
Balancar might not be as powerful an aeon as the council representatives or the masters, but he was one of the wealthiest aeons in the entire city. His backing of his own interlocked set of networks, Balanet, under the management of the Harper Group, ensured he would be a fixture among the city’s elite for the foreseeable future.
The Bright Image: Clean Book 3 Page 4
