by R. E. Carr
“If you are CALA, they what happened to Ji-ann?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, unfazed by the pile of gray bodies all around her. “But if I can access one of the Machidonian processors, I may be able to ascertain what transpired . . .”
It was Eon’s turn to cock his head. CALA rolled her eyes in a decidedly Jenn-like fashion.
“Get me to a terminal, and I’ll find out what happened to Jenn. I can feel an access point nearby,” CALA sighed.
“As my lady commands,” Eon said as he started off down the hall.
“OK, I’ve never heard ‘coma’ as an answer to ‘what have you been up to’ before,” Ian said with a little laugh. “That sounds terrible.”
Jenn took a sip of her coffee. She stared shyly over the lip of her mug, trying not to be too obvious as she checked out Ian’s dark eyes and hair.
“Something on my face?” he asked.
Caught.
“Just trying to remember exactly how we met. The docs warned me that I’d have memory loss, but it’s all so hazy. I feel like I should be doing something. It’s just this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, that I’m . . . I’m missing something important.”
“It’s not class, is it?” Ian asked. “I mean, it’s Harvard. You were always wicked smart.”
She snorted her latte. “Me?”
“You got me through that paper on Neanderthal man. Come on. You were the smartest, cutest girl in class,” he said, returning the sly smile. “At least in my opinion. I’m happy to see what you’re taking now too.”
“Huh?” she replied eloquently.
He pointed to her bag. “History of the Maya, right?”
“You like the Maya too?”
He gave an exaggerated shrug and pointed to his face. “You could say it’s in my blood,” he said. “But I never had the patience to study history and shit. I just took Howard’s class as an elective. “Gosh, seeing you brings back a lot of stuff.”
“Gosh?” Jenn teased. “Why, that is just one step down from a ‘golly’ or a ‘gee willikers!’ This feels so right, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s been years, but—”
“Time is relative,” he said. “I know this is crazy, but would you like to have dinner tonight? I want to catch up on absolutely everything.”
“That sounds like an amazing idea.”
“This was a terrible idea!” CALA cried as she ran from a furious brigade of little gray men.
“This way!” Eon called as he broke open a hatch. He threw one of the Machidonians down the hall to create a temporary blockade.
“I am unsure if this passageway is safe—” CALA gasped as she stared into the shaft. “Do you feel an unnatural amount of warmth and moisture?”
“Hurry!” he cried as he unceremoniously shoved her through the new doorway. She squawked as she tumbled through a tangle of wires and pipes. An ever-present alarm wailed and made the walls vibrate. She crawled through the mess, yelping as some of the pipes sizzled when she brushed them.
“Intruders! You are surrounded. Surrender and you will not be harmed.”
“How many times have we heard that message now?” CALA asked as she broke through another grate and dragged herself into a new room. Eon scrambled after her and kicked the grate shut behind them.
“I lost count,” Eon muttered. “What kind of place is this?”
“Oh my God,” she said, a perfect imitation of Jenn.
Frosted vessels filled with bubbling water lined the room. At the center of these vessels, three Machidonians wrapped in wires hung limply around a core. Their milky eyes watched Jenn with little more than bored interest.
“Did you see the core?” Eon asked, his voice horse.
CALA peeked around the first chamber to see a woman hanging in a tube, her skin peeling and her muscles atrophied. A breathing mask covered most of her face and tubes pierced her arms. Long, golden hair swirled around her naked body.
“Who is this? She has a—”
The golden gem on the stranger’s forehead glimmered as CALA approached.
“Can you hear me?”
CALA leaned against the glass. “I can hear you.”
“Help me.”
“How? Who are you? What are you doing here?” CALA asked.
“Intruder Alert in Power Core.”
“CALA,” Eon said. “We need to move.”
“I power this vessel,” the voice said.
“Who are you?”
“The Oracle of Steam. The Machidonians force me to power this abomination.”
“Abomination . . . ?”
One wall slid open and a fresh wave of Machidonian marines poured into the room. CALA ducked behind the glass as Eon began to fight. Behind her, the Oracle’s golden eyes slowly opened.
“You are not an Oracle,” she said.
“I represent the Beast Tribe. I am . . . Ji-ann,” CALA said quickly.
“Release me. My remaining strength is yours.”
CALA scanned the panel before her. Her gaze locked on a bright red warning label and switch. She yanked the lever and dropped to the floor.
The glass tubes shattered. CALA managed to duck under the jet of steam, but Eon flew, screaming, into the tangle of skeletons and cabling. CALA scrambled over the shards. A wave of water crashed into her, followed by a limp body. The room shuddered and shook as the lights went out.
“General alert. Power drain detected. Initiating emergency backup generators.”
“Eon!” CALA cried.
CALA crawled along the floor, clutching the wet wrist of the Oracle. She pulled herself over a howling Machidonian. “Eon!” She cried again. “Are we falling?”
The intercom burst to life.
“Unit Alpha, return to the bridge. Secure all manual access hatches from invasion.”
“Bridge?” Eon asked. “What is this place?”
“Processing,” CALA said as she scrambled to the steaming remains of the panel. She read the inscription of dots and dashes that comprised Machidonian script. “This is a ship. It is called the Quetzalcoatl II. Oh . . . my . . .”
“What?”
“There are records here about liberating an AI from the West. A serpent god—”
“That’s impossible,” Eon snapped.
“But—”
“I see another hatch,” Eon said as he crawled toward a grate. Even though his skin blistered and peeled, he tore away the metal. He then helped the Oracle and Jenn crawl through the tiny space. They heard more alarms and stomping feet.
“I can feel fresh air,” CALA grunted as she saw a series of fans. They ended up squirming through the hatch until they found a ladder and another access point. CALA slipped past the Maya and rushed for the manual switch.
“Wait—!”
The top hatch burst open. Wind rushed into the corridor. CALA peeked out onto the deck of their transport and gasped. “Eon! Eon, we’re on the air ship!”
“What?” Eon said.
CALA pulled herself halfway up. She could see silver-and-blue paneling reflecting the late-afternoon sun. She held onto the grab bars around the hatch for dear life. As she leaned over to look down, the ship shuddered. Just as she tumbled toward the edge, her feet caught on the rigging.
Upside down and flailing, she got a good look at the placid lake that made Caybera Island so famous. She also got a good look at the large silver cannon jutting out from the stern of the air ship. CALA clawed into the steel cabling and turned herself right side up. Her arms shuddered as she dragged her body onto the deck. Above, a massive silvery balloon filled the sky, holding the sleek ship just above a floating fortress they had somehow missed on their earlier tour of the island. CALA eyed the chains that held the ship to the balloon. Purple hair finally appeared in the hold.
CALA grabbed a chain. “Eon, get the Oracle up here!” she cried.
She helped
lug the limp woman onto the deck. The Phantom then crawled out and closed the hatch behind him. He jammed it shut with his pike.
“By all the gods, I’ve never seen a craft like this. A balloon, made of metal . . .” Eon said as he took in the view of the dirigible.
“I have, over Gracow. Now I know its name.”
“The Quetzalcoatl II?” he asked. “That name—I’ve heard it somewhere.
“I have too. The name resonates with my memories from Jenn’s experience, but I’m lacking reference.” She eyed the treacherous drop to the water. “Do you have any idea how we are going to escape now?”
“I have no idea . . . yet,” Eon sighed as he surveyed the electrified wire and impressive walls of the floating fortress.
“A fall from this height would be lethal to a human, even if we did hit the water correctly. I also doubt that his wounded Oracle would—”
The Oracle groaned.
“We can hold our own for a while up here, but this is what I think it is, isn’t it?” Eon asked as he pointed to the massive balloons. “This is . . .”
“This is the ship that attacked Gracow.” She fumbled with a tiny panel by the hatch. It flashed an angry crimson. “Please, just let me access you,” CALA begged.
The gem glowed on her forehead. Her fingers raced furiously over the bottom line of the screen as more and more symbols scrolled by.
“What do you mean, I’m accessing from more than one location?” she howled as another angry, flashing message stymied her. “Just tell me what I want to know!”
Eon knelt beside her. As his hand brushed the panel, a new error appeared. CALA gasped.
“What is going on?” she asked. She looked at the back of Eon’s neck. “You shouldn’t have survived. How did you survive being connected to this system?”
“Kukulkan watches over me, always.”
“Well, I hope he can watch over us a bit longer,” CALA muttered. “This system is protected by an artificial intelligence far more powerful than I’ve ever encountered. This is not congruous with my previous analysis of the Machidonian technology provided by Yeiwa’s databanks. However, I am detecting something that makes even less sense.”
Eon squinted as he saw waves of motion emanating from the fortress below the ship. “What makes less sense than this?” he asked as he saw a grappling hook wrap around the railing. He promptly unhooked it and sent the rope flying.
“My systems are registering an open Network connection here. The second seal is open—but how?” CALA whispered. Her panel went blank and the intercom returned to life.
“Prisoners, I am Ann Adair, Captain of the Quetzalcoatl. Surrender at once or face immediate execution. We can electrify the hull, or we can fire the main jets and hurl you off the deck. The choice is yours.”
“That voice . . . !” Eon gasped.
The panel flashed with an icon shaped like a mouth. Jasturian text read: “Respond now.”
CALA furrowed her borrowed brow and leaned over the panel. “What did you say your name was?”
“I am Ann Adair, but that is not your . . . Your voice sounds familiar,” the captain replied.
“Is that Adair as in Farris Adair?” Eon broke in.
“Yes, it is. Who are you people? Why did you disable our engine?”
“My name is . . . Jenn MacDonald. I am trying—”
The voice echoed through the speakers, “That’s impossible.”
“There was no computation for this complication,” CALA muttered. She looked back at Eon. “I have a very bad feeling about this,” she hissed. Still she forced a smile and a pleasant tone into her voice. “I think we should talk, Ann.”
“Surrender now, and no harm will come to you,” Ann replied.
“What about my friend, Eon? I want your promise that he and the Oracle will be unharmed as well.”
“I promise. Just surrender your weapons and talk to me. I need to see this with my own eyes.”
Jenn slapped the final layer of joint compound on the tape she had just set. She stopped moving her trowel. “MacDonald, you are a disgrace to your profession,” she whispered.
“MacDonald, you are a disgrace to your profession,” her foreman said. “It’s five o’clock already. Get out of here!”
She slumped over and washed her tools in a daze. “I’ve done this so many times, haven’t I? What am I missing?”
She reached into her backpack and pulled out her acceptance letter from Boston University. “When did I apply again?” she muttered.
Slowly, she made her way out into the streets of Boston’s financial district. This time she stopped to look closely at the gray-suited workers. She looked up at the sky—still gray. She stumbled back against a lamppost. No one seemed to pay her any mind as she clawed at her head.
“What am I forgetting? Somebody tell me what I am forgetting!” she cried out. No one seemed to listen. She picked up her bag and began the long train ride home. In the subway terminal at Park Street, a group of South American musicians played a haunting tune.
She stopped. The lead pipe player smiled at her, his black hair falling in his face. As the lights from the Red Line flashed behind her, Jenn could have sworn she saw a purplish cast to the singer’s hair. Before she could work her way closer, the throng of five o’clock commuters forced her into the nearest subway car.
She looked up at the advertisements running along above the windows. She read “Get your degree in just two years” and “Pregnant? Need answers?” before she saw a familiar sign. It read: “Guaranteed Mayan.”
“Mayan?” she whispered, but when she looked up at it again all she could see was “Guaranteed Swahili.”
“I’m going nuts.”
Her thigh vibrated. She pulled out her clunky blue-and-gray phone and smiled at the number. “Can I see you again tonight?” Ian asked before she had even stammered a hello.
“I’m dating Ian Cortez. I’ve gotta be dreaming,” she sighed.
Eon eyed their Machidonian escort and muttered under his breath, “I wish I still had that pike.”
“Are you certain that you know this Ann, and that we can reason with her?”
“It’s complicated,” CALA muttered. “I should probably warn you . . .”
“We also have her to worry about,” Eon said, pointing to the stretcher that was holding the Oracle. “I doubt the Machidonians will relinquish their precious power source.”
“I’m afraid I must make her a secondary concern,” CALA said sadly. “And Eon—”
“Just be careful, CALA. If this woman knows Jenn, you will have your work cut out for you,” Eon whispered as they reached the steps that led up to the bridge. A Machidonian in full metal armor opened the door.
“Eon . . . ,” CALA started again.
“It’s nice on this ship when you aren’t in a cell or crawling through its engine,” Eon said cheerfully as they entered the bridge. A full company of guards awaited them.
“What is going on?” CALA asked.
A skinny gray man with a buzz cut of blue hair stopped cold as he stared at Jenn. “Of all the probable outcomes!” he gasped in his native tongue. “How—?”
CALA smiled weakly. Eon looked back and forth between the stunned Machine Man and the Serif-fan.
“I think I should see Ann now,” CALA said slowly.
The commander glared at Eon. “We will not risk the Lady Adair’s life. I am Raythix, commander on the bridge. Lady Ann is in the captain’s planning room. Only you may go inside,” he said, pointing to CALA. “I will give you my word that the Phantom and the Oracle will not be harmed.”
“Will you be OK out here, Eon?” CALA asked. “I think it’s about to get . . . weird. As, well, I would say.”
“Take care of yourself, Ji-ann. I’ll break the door in and rescue you if I have to.”
“Take care of yourself, Eon,” she sighed as she fo
llowed the guard.
CALA held her breath. At first, she saw only the back of a chair and a pair of arms on the rests. The screens around her showed a map of Caybera Island. CALA paused as she noticed puncture marks barely hidden by platinum bracelets. Her peachy flesh clashed with the grayscale palette so favored by Machidonian aesthetics.
“Ann?” CALA asked cautiously.
“Jenn?” she replied in English as she turned the chair around.
Both women stared, gobsmacked, at the same set of features.
CALA examined Ann’s manicure, her lavish jewelry, and the perfect makeup on her face. “You’ve done well for yourself,” CALA offered weakly. “How . . . ?”
Ann swept around the table. She grabbed CALA’s shoulders and sized her up. Ann raised a brow at Jenn’s rich golden glow, her multiple braids and piercings, and how her true scarlet waves reached her waist.
“Oh my,” Ann exclaimed, “You’re buff. And your eyes . . .And . . .and . . .”
“I have a rock in the middle of my forehead, don’t I?” CALA deadpanned.
Ann burst into giggles. “How is this even possible? You’re . . . you’re . . . ,” she stammered as she sized up CALA. “You’re . . .”
“You’re me,” CALA finished as she stared into a softer version of her own face.
“The scientists who found me said that there was another signal. They said it was possible, but I never thought . . . ,” Ann said.
“There is always a slight probability of a signal duplication, but I never thought . . . ,” CALA said as she took another good, hard look at her twin.
“You used the name Jenn,” Ann said, eyeing the gem in her copy’s forehead.
“But the locals butcher the pronunciation and call me ‘Ji-ann.’ It’s like I can’t escape it.”
“And I’m Ann,” the stranger replied. “I haven’t used the name Jenn since college . . .”
CALA continued to clock the differences—the lighter hair, brown eyes, and curves. This iteration of Jenn seemed a little softer in body but harder in countenance.
