The landlord frowned and slipped his communicator into his pocket. "Very well. You must learn to be more careful, boy."
He looked out from behind Rav's legs. "My name is Nemo."
"Well, Nemo, you are quite the young artist." He walked up to a section of wall to examine it more closely. "The way you captured the exact placement of solar systems and asteroid belts in the Nibemem Galaxy . . . it's perfect. And the way you thinned the toothpaste with water to change the color and add texture? Brilliant."
"You like my art?"
"I love your art. In fact, I love it so much that I want more of it, with actual paint, of course. Artist Nemo, would you do me the honor of painting these wonderful murals in every one of my rooms? I will pay, and your supplies will be covered. I have buildings all over Darkshot City that could use this special treatment."
Nemo bounced on his toes in his excitement. "Really?"
The landlord grinned. "If it's all right with your father, that is. Mr. Tillman, would you mind if I paid your talented son to paint my buildings? I am willing to pay ten thousand Dayta Notes per room. Oh, and you will be able to stay here rent free."
Rent free and payment? "Mr.-"
"Call me Viktor."
This could be the answer they were looking for, the answer to solving all their money problems. "Mr. Viktor, Nemo would love to paint for you. Tell him thank you, Nemo."
"Thanks, mister!"
"No problem. I trust your father will put some ice on your eye so you will be in top shape for painting all your marvelous pictures for me."
Rav picked Nemo up and placed him on his hip. "I'll do whatever I need to do for him. Thank you for this, Mr. Viktor."
The landlord turned to the door and waved his hand. "Thank your prodigy son. I expect Nemo to be downstairs and ready to go at six in the morning. For now, please remove the artwork here until we can replace it without using food and spray paint. See you in the morning, Nemo."
Chapter 3
Tobias Desruisseaux threw the double doors open as he stormed into the grand multilevel sanctum of the Elysian Congress. His pale blond hair fell into his blue eyes with every step he took on his heeled boots that buttoned up to his thighs. He smoothed his knee-length purple waistcoat that flared at the ends and his pink ruffled shirt with the golden buttons. Once he stopped in the middle of the wooden and neon light tube-surrounded room where six hundred men and women in black robes sat in waiting, their tablets glowing with holograms, Tobias removed his ribbon-circled top hat and tossed it into the fist row of congressmen. They only sneered in their judgmental derision.
Once the tall golden doors were pulled shut and soldiers in silver exosuits blocked them with laser rifles in their hands, Tobias placed his hands on his narrow hips then spoke with a thick French accent. "Tobias Desruisseaux, at your service. So, what do you need me for? Soldiers with weapons? Not quite the grandiose welcome I was envisioning."
Jonathan Brightman leaned forward from behind his podium on the front row of benches. His face was lined with deep wrinkles. "You had better be glad you're not in shackles!"
"Oh? So harsh. Who died and made you king, Jonathan?"
"The members of this congress elected me their president."
"This is rich, truly. President Azure was assassinated by your brother, then you are elected president in a secret election? I always knew there would be a Brightman ruling Elysia, but I never expected it to be the dumb one."
"How dare you?" Jonathan slammed his gavel on the podium. "You are alive and breathing in this room because of me, so aim your quick wit and mockery somewhere else. If not for me stepping in, you would be blindfolded and stood up against a wall with twenty rifles pointed at you."
"Firing squads are such medieval forms of execution, don't you think? Surely Elysia could do better. Are you planning to start burning people at the stake? I swear I am no witch."
"Silence. You have one job here today. If you refuse to comply with the wishes of this congress, then you will be tortured until you do comply."
"Torture? Ha!" Tobias chuckled and flipped his hair out of his eyes. "You do remember who I was in this backwards little government before I was forced to go into exile to escape the lunatics that now sit in these chairs? I was the director of the Department of Peace. If anyone knows about torture, it's me. Wouldn't that go to say that I know how to be tortured and not give away whatever information you are wanting to know? Don't play the torture card with me, boys. I practically invented torture in this galaxy."
"You can talk all you want and pretend that you're not afraid, but we know you are, deep down. You can save yourself untold suffering and pain if you just give us what we want."
"Well? Go ahead. Are you going to tell me what you want or are you going to make me learn how to read minds?"
"We need the research journal of Euro Brightman."
Tobias raised an eyebrow. "His research journal? You mean the thousands of files on the Elysian database? You already have those. Why do you think I would be able to help you any more than that? Did you get locked out of the database? Call a tech guy, not me."
"Not those files. His personal research journal, the one containing everything he knew about the Genesis Sequence. He kept it with him at all times. It was handwritten and bound with a lace ribbon from his wife's wedding dress. As his closest colleague, he would have given it to you."
Why would he have something like that? "I don't have it. Your thugs stormed my safe room this morning and ransacked the place. If it was in my possession, they would have found it. Or are you admitting that your goons aren't nearly as competent as you first believed?"
"I'm warning you, Desruisseaux."
"But no, I don't have it."
Jonathan nearly stood up from his chair in anger. "Liar!"
"How about I help you, because you seem to not have the mental capacity to figure this out on your own? If I don't have Euro's journal, who would have it? Why don't you try talking to Euro himself?"
"Euro Brightman is dead."
Tobias took a step back as the news him hard. He knew his friend had been having health problems, but they did not seem to be that bad. "When? When did he die?"
"About one month ago. He died from a heart attack."
"I see."
"Be glad he didn't live to be executed by Azimandia like the rest of the Red Sand Rebels. Good riddance. They were nothing but pests."
"Are you serious?" Tobias asked. "The Red Sand Rebels are gone?"
"Every member was killed by Warlord Tirlmayn on Star-World Delta."
"Such a fine example of your censoring of media. When was this going to be broadcast? It's not even on the Elysian internet. The members of the Red Sand Rebellion died for you. They fought for freedom for all of us. Now they're martyrs and you brush away their sacrifices like they were nothing but ants being squashed?"
The men and women in the room cried out in their surprise and obvious rage they felt towards the rebels.
Jonathan quieted the other members of Congress after their outburst. "They were ants, ants that tried to meddle with the wrong picnic."
"Is that an attempt at humor? Because that was awful."
"All that aside, you were Euro's closest colleague, the one he entrusted everything to. You were the last person he spoke with aside from those rebels before he died. We want to know what you worked on with him."
Tobias crossed his arms on his chest and tapped the toes of his boots on the polished black floor. "Listen, my friendship with Euro Brightman was a personal one, nothing more. If you want scientific data, then you need to speak with a scientist. I am not that, and I never claimed to be. Even if I had the journal, I wouldn't be able to tell you what it all meant."
"Then I guess we'll just have to kill you now and save taxpayers from feeding you in a cell."
"Now hold on. Don't kill me because I'm not who you thought I was. I can still help you. Show of hands. Who in this building can speak and read fluent French? Anyone?
No one? Then you need me to translate the contents of the journal."
"Euro's journal is in French?" Jonathan asked.
"Not only French. It is a code based on French. Scientists have been using the French language as their standard code base for hundreds of years to hide it from meddling eyes."
"Why French?"
Tobias grinned as he gained the intellectual high ground in this battle. "Like all the other human languages, French was nearly eradicated due to the forced acceptance of English as humanity's one and only language. However, some colonies still had their citizens divided based on culture and country of origin. Much like Vance Trainor still had his Australian accent, I still know French. In those sectors, the families do what they can to keep their language and way of life alive and untouched. It just so happened that the French sector was filled with some quite intelligent biochemical researchers."
"Euro was not French."
"But I am. Where did you think Euro was while you were busy accepting bribes and blackmailing politicians to get to where you are now? Euro was at my house learning French."
Jonathan waved his hand dismissively. "Then we will kill you and get someone who can translate it for us."
"Good luck with that. All the people who could translate the French part won't know where to go with the coded parts. Only a scientist who was a part of the inner circle of researchers would know how to decode it."
"I thought you said you weren't a scientist."
Oh, yeah. He said that. "I lied. Kill me if you want to. I don't care. That way, you won't be able to decode the journal even if you do manage to find it. Well, look at this. It seems we are at an impasse. My life just became much more valuable to you. I have something you want, and you have something I want."
"What do you want?"
There was only one thing he wanted, one thing he needed. "I want my daughter back. You took her from my safe room this morning while she was screaming and crying for me, but your brutes bound her arms in cuffs and carried her off without one ounce of care for her. I want her back. Where is Antoinette?"
"That is classified information, Mr. Desruisseaux."
"Classified my ass. If you want my help, you will give me my daughter back."
"The girl is safe in a transport ship en route to Darkshot."
"Darkshot?" Tobias asked, his breath taken away momentarily. "Why are you sending my daughter to a completely different galaxy?"
"She is a distraction that will prevent you from getting your work done, Mr. Desruisseaux."
"Well, that is too bad for you. If I don't get my daughter, I don't work."
"Is that so?" Jonathan showed his crooked teeth below his sweaty bangs that were plastered on the sides of his face. "Well, allow me to inform you of something else. The ship Antoinette Desruisseaux is on is being flown by autopilot on a secure route with two Elysian fighter escorts. With one call, I can have those fighters shoot down that transport ship and your daughter with it. We figured that you would put up a fight, so we put safeguards like this into place to force you to comply."
"You're monsters, all of you. You have left me with no choice in the matter. I will help you in any way I can if you ensure my daughter's safety."
"Very well. Tobias Desruisseaux, you are hereby granted stay in Elysia without the threat of prosecution for your previous crimes, but your status is of a slave. Your citizenship remains revoked. You will live in the Elysian Technology Facility. Guards, take Mr. Desruisseaux to his quarters and ensure that he stays there."
* * *
In plaid boxers and a t-shirt, Rav stepped out of the steamy bathroom, feeling much better after a shower than he had earlier in the day. The spray paint, ketchup, and toothpaste had successfully been scrubbed from the walls, though it had taken nearly seven hours of hard work while Nemo helped. Rav's arm muscles ached and his headache had only gotten worse. He walked into the dark bedroom, nearly tripping over the small green sneakers in the middle of the floor. With the last remnants of his energy, he fell onto the mattress and took a deep breath, releasing all of his anxiety. They were going to make it. One way or another, things were looking up.
Rav rolled over to stare up at the ceiling where purple and blue neon danced from between the blinds covering the windows. A siren from a police hovercar sped past the building and out into the never-sleeping night of Darkshot City. The juxtaposition of the eerie silence inside and the bustling unrest on the other side of the apartment walls reminded him of his home in Odyssia's Under City. He was brought back to the present when Nemo rolled over and cuddled up against his side.
"Hi, Daddy."
Rav kissed his forehead. "Hey, buddy. How's your eye?"
"It's okay. Ice helps." Nemo rested his face on his father's chest and tangled his skinny legs around his. "Don't be sad."
"But I hurt you. I'm a bad father."
"Nope." Nemo climbed on top of Rav and leaned forward until their noses pressed together. His mint green eyes glistened in the light from the window. "I'm a robot. I heal fast, remember?"
"You know that?"
"Mmm hmm. Just like you. We're special, aren't we, Daddy? We're gonna do good things, hero things. We're gonna save everybody from the aliens. You built me, didn't you? You and Uncle Vance? Teach me about what I am. Please, Daddy. Please?"
"How do you know so much about all this?" Rav asked, tracing Nemo's delicate rounded ears.
"Krisharn told me. Then he did a scan thing and showed me my brain. It's all metal and wires."
"That's right. Your body was grown in a dish and I created the computer that runs your activities. But something changed. Something happened when I put that computer inside your infant body. As you grew, you behaved not like a machine, but like a human child. I knew it couldn't have all been programming. You laughed, you cried, you felt pain and sadness. You felt everything. The Genesis Sequence, whatever it is, made you real. It made you human."
"I'm not human. I'm just Nemo."
Rav smiled and took the boy in his arms. "Oh, Nemo. That's all that matters."
"Don't turn me off, okay? I want to live."
"And you will live. Do you hear me? You will live, no matter what comes our way. I am your father, so I will protect you. I promise."
"And Uncle Vance?" Nemo asked. "He's my father too?"
"Nemo, Uncle Vance is gone."
"Did he die?"
"Tirlmayn killed him. Tirlmayn killed all of my friends. You're all I have left now."
Nemo slid off of Rav's chest and hid under the hoodie he used as a blanket. After a few silent minutes, he peeked his head out. "Did Uncle Vance hurt when he died?"
"I hope not, buddy. I hope not."
"Will you pray for him?" Nemo asked.
Pray for him? Since when was Nemo religious in any way? "I'm not the guy to ask about praying. And if Vance is dead, praying won't help him now."
"Can I pray?"
Really? Rav propped himself up on his arm to watch his son. "Uh, sure, I guess. Go ahead."
Nemo knelt beside the mattress in the neon light and slipped a copper crucifix out from his t-shirt then held it to his lips as he quietly prayed.
Rav knew that crucifix. It was the same color, the same shape, and had the same small spots of green tarnish. It had to be the same one. "Nemo, where did you get that necklace?"
"I stole it from Krisharn's desk. He was telling me how faith is bad. I was curious, so I took it one night and I tried talking to God like I saw a priest do one night when I was with some soldiers. It helped them feel better, so now I feel better when I pray. Do you want me to stop?"
"No, of course not. If you embrace religion, then good for you. I'm proud of you. But do you know whose crucifix that is? It was Lucas's. You knew Lucas, didn't you? The man with the blue hair and the exosuit?"
"Yep. I miss him. Is Lucas dead too?" Nemo asked, his voice filled with dread.
"Buddy . . . everyone is gone now. I tried to tell you that on the ship before we came here. I kn
ow it's difficult for you to understand, and that's okay. We'll work through it together. Now, finish your prayers and we'll get to bed. It's an early morning."
"And I get to paint!"
"Yes, you do." Rav rolled over and listened to his son's whispered prayers in the darkness as he slowly drifted to sleep.
Chapter 4
Bubbles popped on the surface of the oily water that stood in the middle of the stone-walled pit where Vance passed in and out of a fitful sleep. Every muscle in his body was sore from endless shivering without any fire or blankets to warm him. A deep, gnawing hunger tore at his stomach with a ripping voracity. It had been days, maybe weeks since his last meal before being thrown down into this pit. The Azimandian warbringers had simply shut the doors at the top then left them there as the temperatures plummeted. The deep pool of water had started to form ice crystals around the edges as tiny snowflakes slipped through the cracks above them and drifted down into the pit where they melted on Vance's leather boots.
Restless days and nights blurred together in frozen continuity, never ending, never changing. They had spent their first few days talking and telling stories or planning what was to come next for the Red Sand Rebels. Not now. Now everyone was in their own world, their eyes slicked over with dreams, fears, or all-pervading anxiety that ate away at their minds. Each had their own crosses to bear, memories to bury, or secrets to lock away in the deepest recesses of their souls.
And Vance was not removed from his own unique misery. Awake and asleep, every moment in that silent pit, he was plagued by the memories of what he had . . . for however short it was. His husband. His entire world had been invested in that man. Just when he had finally opened his heart and lowered his defenses enough to love another person, he was taken from him, leaving him emptier than he had ever been before. Revenge, suicide, and homicidal rage all coursed through his thoughts at one point in time. However, none of those were what Ben would have wanted. Benjamin was gone, but Vance had long before decided to carry that light he had about life with him and to never let it burn out. More violence and hatred would not bring Ben back. Nothing would.
The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10 Page 3
