The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10

by Mackenzie Morris

  "Rav? Are you all right in there? I'm coming in, amigo." The door slid open and Sandra took one step inside then covered her mouth and nose. "Dios mío. This smell. What is this?"

  Rav looked up from his mess at the woman who stood over him with her hands around her red suspenders. He tried to lift up the bottle of whiskey for another drink, but he dropped it instead, spilling the contents across himself. The smell alone was enough to send him vomiting again.

  "Oh, Rav . . ." She knelt down beside him and pushed his sweat-drenched bangs out of his eyes. "Don't do this to yourself. Your son deserves a sober father, don't you think?"

  "He's dead. He's gone."

  "No, Rav. Derek managed to get him stabilized. Nemo's head has been put back together and stapled. He's talking. I came to get you to come see him before our guests arrive."

  "He's okay? Nemo's okay?"

  "Well, uh, he's alive."

  Rav sat up and wiped his mouth on the sheet from the bed. "That's, uh . . . t-that's not what I asked."

  "He's not the boy you remember. There is only so much abuse a system can take before it starts shutting down. Going that long without any function combined with the procedure Derek performed had its consequences. Your son is talking and walking and eating, but he is having nightmares while he's awake. They're like flashbacks. He will be fine then he will break down completely and start screaming or begging for help as if he's being attacked by an unseen force. He keeps saying that the aliens are hurting him or telling someone named Darren to stop. It's disturbing, to say the least. It seems that whenever the memory section was reconnected, something got jumbled. He's reliving all of his worst memories. Derek says it would be impossible to redo it without Nemo losing everything. At that point, you would have to do a complete reboot to the system. Everything would be erased. He wouldn't know who he is or what he's been through. He wouldn't know art or how much he loves all the little things in life."

  Rav picked up a dirty wrinkled t-shirt and cradled it against his chest like it was an infant. "And he wouldn't know who I am."

  "That's correct. Lo siento, Rav. I'm sorry."

  "I can't cry anymore, Sandra. I just can't. I'm ready for this to be over. We all are. I feel like I lost my son long ago."

  "Do you want to see Nemo?" Sandra asked.

  "No. Scrap him."

  "You don't mean that." Sandra grabbed him by his shoulders and forced him to look at her. "You don't mean that, Rav. He's still your son."

  Rav threw the t-shirt across the room then turned back to his bottle of whiskey. "He's a pile of parts being held together with chewing gum and toothpicks."

  "Not literally. Stop this. If he was a human boy who had a disease-"

  "He's not! He's not a real person!" Rav stood up, still dizzy, but driven by anger. He slammed his fists into the wall. "He's not real. I can't do this anymore, not for a computer. I was a fool to ever think I could build a child out of some spare parts and a magical alien serum. It's nonsense. I didn't create a child. I created a monster. He's a hunk of malfunctioning scraps. I was too caught up in it all to see through the illusion. I never should have created him."

  The airy whimper from the doorway drew both of their attention to the boy with tears sliding down his pink cheeks. His lips quivered and his fists clenched at his sides. He blinked, sending tears splattering on the floor between his bare feet. With another mewl, he took off running down the hallway.

  "Nemo, no. Nemo! I didn't mean it." Rav stretched his hand out towards the door as he called after his son. "Nemo!"

  Sandra shook her head. "Show me another pile of scraps that can cry. Go ahead. If he wasn't broken and lost before, he surely is now. Nice going, Rav."

  Rav pulled on his jeans, only falling back onto the bed three times in the process. Not bothering with a shirt, he stumbled over the clutter until he reached the hallway and reached out for the wall to steady himself, but his knees buckled and he dropped like a rock. It took two tries to pick himself up on his hands and knees as the spinning only grew. Doing his best to focus through the fog of intoxication, he spotted the friendly female face a few feet in front of him with the boy partially hidden behind her legs. "Leah . . . Nemo . . ."

  "What is wrong with you?" Leah held Nemo to her side as he sobbed into her skirt. "You're a mess."

  "Give me my son. Tell him, tell him I'm sorry."

  "He doesn't want to talk to you."

  "Make him! I need to-" Rav closed his eyes as the hallway tilted on its side. "Tell Nemo to . . ."

  "No. I'm not telling him to do anything. How could you? He told me what you said. Did you ever stop to think about how he feels? He's just a boy dealing with all of this. He's in pain. He's afraid. He already feels useless because he knows he's not like the other children he's seen. He has been abused and tortured, starved and abandoned, and now he's terribly sick. Nemo came here from the med bay to see you. It was the first thing he wanted to do when he was feeling good enough to be unhooked from the machines. He looked to you for help, for love, for acceptance, but then he stood there and heard every hateful thing you said about him."

  "I-I didn't mean it, Helen. I mean Leah. Leah. I was drunk."

  "Was?" Leah protectively pushed Nemo farther behind her. "You're still drunk, Rav. Even so, that's no excuse to speak about your son like that. You called him a monster! The one person he loves and trusts in his entire universe, the one person who has always been there for him and cared for him unconditionally, has said the most hurtful things he could have said to him. You did that, Rav. He heard you say that he shouldn't have been created. His own father."

  "Nemo, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Come here and let me hold you."

  "He doesn't want you. Why in space would he want to be near you after that? I don't think you need to be around your son anymore."

  "What?" Rav sat up after hearing those abruptly sobering words. "Leah, you can't take him away from me."

  "I can and I am. You're not stable. You're having a crisis. Until you get help and return to your right mind, I am keeping Nemo far away from you."

  "No! I need him. I need my son! You can't do this. He's mine!" Rav crawled towards them, only managing to make it two feet before collapsing again. "Nemo, I love you! I need you. Please don't take him. Don't leave me without him. Leah, don't!"

  "Go back to bed, Rav. Kalimis, please take Rav back to his room and make sure he doesn't leave."

  Rav kicked and clawed at the warbringer's hands as he was dragged back into his room, but he was too weak to break free even on a completely sober day. "Kalimis, no! Let me go. I have to get my son. Nemo . . . Nemo needs me."

  "Not right now, Rav." Kalimis lifted Rav up then tossed him onto the urine-soaked mattress. "You're not leaving this room until you sober up. Get those jeans off or I'll do it for you. You're getting a cold shower and I'm giving you an injection that will help bring you back to your senses. How much have you had to drink? Answer me, Rav. How much?"

  Rav held up his hand as his vision became dark and cloudy.

  "That's not helping. Are you trying to hold up numbers? Because it's not working. Oh, two. Two what? Surely two shots didn't do this much to you."

  "Bottles. And . . . uh, six, no . . . nine beers. Since breakfast."

  "Two bottles of wine?"

  Rav shimmied out of his jeans then dug his fingers into the edge of the mattress as he felt himself falling from the spinning bed, but he was perfectly still in reality. He shook his head, which only made his condition worse. "Bottles. Whiskey."

  Kalimis picked up one of the 1.5 litre bottles and read over the label. "This stuff is 150 proof. Holy space. How are you still conscious? You're going to kill yourself drinking like this. You know what? I'm not playing the pity game with you. You're not the victim here. You're being irresponsible, immature, and selfish. Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself? Is this the way you want your son to see you behaving? Is this the example you're setting for him? Get up and get yourself into the bathr
oom. I'm not carrying you. You're going to do this on your own. Get up!"

  Rav flinched at the warbringer's assertive shouting. Gathering what little sentient energy he had left, Rav dragged himself to the edge of the bed and rolled off into his heap of clothes and burrito wrappers.

  "Get up!" Kalimis kicked him in the side and pointed to the bathroom. "Get crawling. I'm going to sober you up, even if I have to do this the Azimandian way. Trust me, Rav. You don't want me to do this the Azimandian way."

  Rav closed his eyes and began to drift to sleep, but he was rudely awakened by a kick to his groin. He cried out and curled up in the fetal position. "Go away! Just leave me alone!"

  The warbringer was on top of him, snarling and hissing in his growing fury as he nearly crushed his rib cage under his weight. "You don't get a say in this. You will get up. You will take your pathetic self into the bathroom and get a cold shower. Then you will take these injections like a man and you will drink a pot of coffee. After that, you will march yourself down the hall and kneel before your son and kiss his feet as you apologize for everything you just said. Then I'm going to beat you to a pulp for hurting a defenseless child. Now, get moving or I start your beating now."

  Chapter 13

  Ben stared out the window of the room he shared with Vance on Krisharn's compact ship. It was nothing special in terms of appearance or functionality, but it would get the job done. He sat on the pile of canvas bags that were packed with mystery supplies, stacked up along every wall in the ship, watching the pink and yellow nebulae and icy comets streaking past in the darkness of space. Ben listened to the quiet opera singing over the sound of the shower coming from behind the closed bathroom door, but frowned when it was interrupted by coughing and wheezing.

  The smoking cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed mocked him, telling of the uncaring attitude his husband had towards his own health.

  "Ben, a word?"

  He drew his attention away from his thoughts to the blond man with the metal left arm who was wearing only a towel in the bathroom doorway. "What's up?"

  "An experiment." Vance untied the towel and let it fall to his feet.

  Ben looked away and back out the window. "Don't."

  "I thought so. Ben, why do you look away from me? What's the matter?"

  "Just don't. Not right now." He flinched when Vance's hand touched his shoulder then his fingers played with the large ruby in Ben's left ear. He pushed his husband away. "Stop!"

  Vance growled as he stood and stormed to the dresser where his duffel bag was already half-unpacked. He tossed clothes out, strewing socks and underwear across the floor. "What's wrong with you, huh? Are you pissed off at me? Angry 'cause we don't have your fancy shampoo on this ship? What is it? What have I done now to make your life miserable? It's always me, isn't it?" He pulled on a pair of boxers then crossed his arms on his chest. "Say something. Go ahead. Use me as a verbal punching bag. I'm ready. I'm a big boy. I can take it."

  "Is that what you think of me? That I would be upset about something so trivial like shampoo? I killed a man, Vance. I killed him with my bare hands."

  "You've killed people before, back before our wedding. I'm sure you did, didn't you?"

  How could he make him understand? "It's not that I killed him, Vance."

  "Then what?"

  "I . . . I . . ."

  "You what?" Vance asked curtly. "Stop blubbering and say something."

  "I liked it!" Ben screamed at him, holding out his hands like they were alien and dangerous. "I liked killing that man. I wanted to kill again. I enjoyed watching him fade away, hit after hit after hit. It wasn't like the times with the gun when we were mercenaries. It wasn't from a distance and disconnected from it all. I was right there. I had his blood all over me. I felt him breathing on me and I saw his eyes . . . his eyes . . ."

  "Oh, space."

  "It was . . . it was fun. I didn't want it to end. I know I should have been terrified. I should have felt something for him. But I didn't. All I felt was a rush. I needed to stay on that high. I needed to kill again."

  "And how do you feel now about it?" Vance asked.

  "I keep seeing it play in my mind. Over and over. I'm thirsty. I'm so thirsty, Vance." Ben removed his glasses and threw them onto the bed. "I'm so thirsty."

  "Do you want a drink?"

  Ben tensed his arm muscles in an attempt to quell the uncontrollable quivering. "No. Not for water or wine. I need to kill again. I want to feel that rush. I need it. You don't understand what it's like to need something so forbidden, something so evil, something that so many people say you shouldn't do."

  "You don't think I do? I have an inherently addictive personality. I get hooked on everything. I've always been that way, since I was a young child. I have a list of forbidden things that I've needed that is a mile long, Benjamin. And you're one of them. I can't help it. It's something with the way my brain is wired and I can't grow out of it. I can't make it go away. Drugs, alcohol, you name it. Now I have sex to add to that list. If you killing a man who was trying to kill us is the worst you ever have to deal with, then count yourself lucky. I was addicted to nearly every drug you can think of because I hated myself. I did it to hide, I did it because I knew it would keep me from acting on my physical urges. You know I would have been executed in Odyssia for ever even touching a man. I was a virgin until you. I'm twenty-nine years old, Ben. So you still think I don't know what it feels like to go through life being denied something I desire with every part of being? No. I know all too well."

  "But mine hurts other people. Your self-hatred and drug use only hurts you. If I kill another person, I hurt them, I hurt their families and their friends."

  Vance scoffed then fell backwards onto the bed. "Well, who do you wanna go kill, mate?"

  "What?"

  "You help me feed my addiction twice a day, sometimes more. I know you do it when you're not in the mood, but you do it anyway because you claim to love me. It's my turn to return that favor. Name a person and we'll go kill them."

  "That's horrible! I don't want to kill anyone!"

  Vance propped his head up on his hand as he grinned at Ben. "See? You're not addicted to murder. You're addicted to the adrenaline, to the way your heart races, the way you sweat, the spark you feel inside your chest. It's that feeling you're addicted to, not killing. Believe me, Ben. I've seen murderers. I've seen child molesters and rapists, slavers and kidnappers. I've seen them all. And I can tell you one thing for certain. You are none of them. You are not a murderer. You are a man who was desperate to save his own life and the lives of the people he cared about. That doesn't make you a monster. That makes you a hero. More than anything, it makes you human. And your humanity is not something you want to lose. Everyone has a breaking point. We found yours."

  Ben held his arms around himself as he closed his eyes and thought of anything he could to change the subject. "What happens now? I know we're going to meet up with Sandra and Rav. The Red Sand Rebels will want to kill you for kidnapping me."

  "I don't expect them to welcome me with open arms, but I don't think they will be hostile. Except for Rav. I don't know about Rav."

  "Do you think he'll try to kill you?"

  "It's a possibility. Though, when I was talking to him in that reality simulator, I think he knew that I had messed up on Dualictum. I owe him the biggest apology of my life. That's why I agreed to give the Hive Queen what I did."

  "What was the deal you made with her?" Ben asked, tracing his fingers absentmindedly along the rivets down the seam in the metal wall. "Tell me. Please tell me."

  "You won't approve, mate."

  "Vance, we're married. I deserve to know."

  Vance sighed. "In exchange for the Hive Queen's help, I agreed to give my life for the one thing she values most."

  "What's that?"

  "Rav Tillman."

  Ben bit his tongue and turned back to the window.

  "I'm going to die soon from this nanobot virus anyway. I f
igured pledging my life to keeping Rav alive wasn't the worst way to go. Listen, Ben. Things are about to get very dangerous, very quickly. The final stage of my plan is approaching. The Red Sand Rebels and I will be fighting against both Azimandia and Elysia within the next one month. And it won't be war like we've had. The pot has been on simmer this entire time, with both sides taking safe shots at each other from a distance. As soon as we land on Odyssia's moon for Rav to meet with the man I've had contact him, any kind of peace we've had will be gone. We will be in a state of absolute war. It will be hell. We will lose people. We will hurt. We will kill. We will do whatever it takes to bring an end to the fighting."

  "How do you know this?" Ben asked.

  "Because there's a part of my plan that I haven't told you yet."

  "What happens on Odyssia's moon? Who is the contact? What's going on?"

  "Everything begins and ends on Odyssia. Every piece of this puzzle comes together and my plan comes to fruition. Nothing will be off limits. No one is safe. Ben, I need to tell you something. If I don't survive the fighting to come, I need you to have something. Listen carefully. On the dark half of Darkshot's fourth moon, there is a hollow tree in the middle of a willow grove. Buried inside that tree is something I need you to have. When I'm gone, I need you to go there and dig it up. Give half of it to Nemo and keep half of it for yourself. You deserve it because you're the love of my life. Nemo deserves it because he's my son. Please tell me you'll do this."

  What was all this about? Why was he telling him this now? "I will. But you're not going to die. Stop talking like that. I need you. The rebellion needs you."

  "The Hive Queen will keep me alive for as long as I'm needed. I will fight and I will end this war. Even she believes in my plan."

  "What do you have buried there on that moon that Nemo needs? He's seven."

  Vance sat up and ran a hand over his closely-shaved hair. "I know Rav better than anyone. I know he's reaching his limit of what he can deal with. If he does the unthinkable to Nemo, I want the boy to at least have something connecting him to the truth. Years ago, I never would have questioned Rav's love for his son. But now . . . I'm not so sure."