Ptolemy pointed at him.
“So, Mr Hailey, you dare to come back.”
Zeke gulped. “Yes Sir, any chance we could overlook the last visit?”
The leader threw back his head and let out a deep guffaw. “As if your midnight escape wasn’t wicked enough. Now you’ve thrown your lot in with these crooks. I guess they need you for your intimate knowledge of my orbs.”
“They’re not yours, exactly,” Zeke said softly, avoiding eye contact.
“Excuse me young Mariner, I bought them fair and square from Miss Cutter here. Although it seems she now wants them back.”
“And she stole them from Professor Magma. Rightfully they belong to Earth’s government.”
Ptolemy rested his chin on his fist.
“That may be true but under Freetown law they now belong to me. And I’ll be honest. Revolution is coming to the Fourth Rock. I thought some Martian technology might give me the edge. But so far they’ve proved useless.”
“They only work for psychics, Sir,” Zeke explained.
“And you think no psychics reside at Yuri-Gagarin? But enough, I’m not interested in filling the gaps in your education. Tell me all you know about the orbs.”
Zeke realised everyone in the room was looking at him. He drew a deep breath. “The orbs are Hesperian artefacts. They survived for nearly two billion years after the Hesperians vanished. As far as we know they’re the only alien relics that managed to survive. Principal Lutz had a stone engraving but now that’s just dust.”
“Yes, yes, but what would you say is their purpose?”
“Well, Magma called the one he stole the Orb of Words. I came into contact with it and ever since I’ve been able to understand the Hesperian language. Wish I could have the same luck with Spanish.”
Zeke waited for someone to laugh at his joke. Nobody did. Cusp gestured for him to continue.
“Magma told me his colleague Doctor Enki was attempting to translate Martian. So they stole the Orb of Words. But all the psychics who touched the Orb died within hours. I think their brains were overloaded by the knowledge transfer.”
“Ah,” Cusp began. “The world famous linguist. But that would imply that they had some Martian to translate, wouldn’t it? Logically the governments on Earth must have more than just the orbs. They’re hiding something.”
Zeke frowned. The great leader had a point.
“Well Sir, as far as I’m aware, if you are not psychic the Orb is harmless, but if you are, then the Orb could pose a serious danger.”
“And the other?”
“Magma found that in his excavation. He nicknamed that one the Orb of Can-Do. Again it only works on psychics. Must be our brainwaves. Anyway he used it to shrink me to microscopic proportions. It was a very scary experience. What use that is I don’t know.”
Ptolemy Cusp stirred on his throne. “Possibly a weapon or a spying device. So tell me, what actually happened up there at Magma’s dig?”
Zeke eyed Trixie anxiously. What had she told him? What should he say? Would Cusp believe the truth?
Cusp rapped the armrest of his grand seat impatiently. “Come on. Cutter informed me there was an accident. The archaeologist was using some kind of explosives that went off by mistake. Magma and his entire team were buried alive. She and you escaped by translocating in the nick of time. Is that so?”
Trixie threw Zeke a weak smile. It was as good a story as any he supposed. Trixie was lying to cover up her crimes. But the less people knew about the Infinity Trap the better.
“Yes Sir, that’s how it happened.”
The great leader fell into deep thought. A small cough echoed through the chamber. Fitch Crawly, clearing his throat and wiping his tear-stained cheeks, stepped forward.
“Sir, your soothsayer is not quite right. We’ve come here to join the Unpro and fight for independence. As for the orbs, we believe as psychics and as mariners, we can use them on your behalf. Will you allow us to join your crusade? You can trust us to use the orbs for your benefit.”
Fitch’s mouth creased into that comforting smile of his, although, oddly, Zeke no longer found it reassuring. There was an iciness to Fitch that Zeke had never noticed.
“Rubbish,” Isla scoffed. “You’re after their power for yourselves. You want to speak Martian for your own ends, not ours. The soothsayer was quite clear on that.”
“No,” Fitch said, in a firmer tone. “She was wrong. It’s quite normal for pre-cogs to get their prophecies muddled. Predicting the future isn’t an exact science.”
“How dare you, böse, böse kind! You naughty, naughty children!”
The words emanated from behind Cusp’s throne. Zeke recognised the voice instantly, although it was deeper and croakier than normal. The figure of an old woman emerged into the light. Her hair was silvery white, her dark face pitted with age. Although thirty years too old, it was unmistakeably Principal Lutz.
Chapter Twenty
The Audience Hall
Out of the corner of his eye, Zeke saw Fitch and Trixie’s mouths drop. He closed his own quickly.
“Are you like, the Principal’s mother?” Trixie asked at last.
The soothsayer sniffed.
“In a manner of speaking she is,” Isla said with a chuckle.
“Of course!” Zeke gasped, clicking his fingers.
The entire room stared at him.
“The hundred year old photo of Lutz, the fact nobody remembers a time without her!”
“Looks like his Martian penny’s dropped,” Ptolemy said from his throne, his eyes twinkling.
“You mean—” Fitch began.
“Lutz is a clone!” Zeke said.
The old woman drew herself up on her full height.
“I prefer the term ‘doppelganger’.”
“I never saw that coming,” Trixie remarked. “But why?”
The old Lutz tapped the floor with her walking stick. “Henrietta Lutz was not only a formidable psychic, she was a great educator. When she founded the Ophir Chasma School for Psychic Endeavour, the Earth governments quickly spotted its potential. With the need for Cosmic Migration accelerating, they channelled funds into the school. Imagine their horror then, as the original Lutz succumbed to radiation poisoning.”
Trixie straightened her ponytail. “So the old boot died. Why reinvent her?”
The soothsayer glared at the girl.
“Back in the early days of terra-forming our sun creams were weak. The original Lutz was exposed to too much solar radiation and was dying before her time. As she lay on her deathbed the President of the United Nations and Associated Colonies and Conglomerates, no less, persuaded her to sign a contract, franchising her DNA.”
“But human cloning’s illegal,” Fitch protested.
The copy let out a loud snort. “Only for the unimportant. My talents are too crucial for that.”
Zeke scratched his head. “So they brought Lutz back because they needed her skills at running the school?”
“Yes,” the old woman said. “But I am more than a mere doppelganger. The scientists did something brilliant. They downloaded the dying Lutz’s memories onto a cranial circuit, which was installed into the replacement’s brain. The circuit continued to store all subsequent memories. Every new clone gets its own circuit with these synaptic databases passed on.”
Ptolemy stirred. “Which means each clone begins life with the collected memory of all her predecessors.”
“Exactly,” Lutz said with pride. “I have an unbroken chain of recollection right back to my childhood in Vienna. That was, well, a considerable time ago.”
“Aha!” Fitch cried. “This circuit, does it have other functions, like a telepathic firewall for instance?”
“We have to protect our secrets,” Lutz said. “Why, have you been hacking into my brain?”
Fitch blushed, unusually lost for words.
Zeke raised a finger.
“So every time the Principal dies the next clone takes over. Bu
t then, why are there two of you now?”
The old Lutz cursed in several languages.
“Those fools back on Earth got hasty. Five years ago I was caught in a rockslide that left me in a coma. Word got back to Earth and the gibbering politicians commissioned Lutz Five. By the time I’d recovered she was already installed at the school. I demanded my job back. Everyone ignored me. They discarded me for a younger model.”
Tears formed in the old clone’s eyes.
Ptolemy lifted his hand.
“Lutz Senior, you need to rest. Let’s end this audience.”
He turned to the three teenagers.
“You snuck into my town with dishonest intent. Nevertheless you will find us hospitable. I’m inviting you to my banqueting chamber for a meal tonight. In the meantime, Isla, take care of these urchins.”
Isla broke into a wicked grin and aimed her ferromagnetic rifle at Trixie.
“But Sir, I have more questions!” Zeke clamoured.
“Silence!” the great man barked. The audience was over.
~~
Zeke’s spirits soared as the guards ushered him into the Banqueting Chamber. He had spent a long and excruciating afternoon locked in a closet with Trixie and Fitch. The two of them sniped and goaded each other incessantly until Zeke wanted to scream. The chamber was at the top of Biosphere One, a circular room under a glass dome. Six-foot candles illuminated the scene, enough to see but not to blank out the night sky above. Both Phobos and Deimos were visible, glowing like feeble fireflies amid the splendour of the Milky Way. Starlight fell upon a large round table, covered with imported delicacies, bowls of rice, steamy soups, sliced fish, exotic vegetables, and overflowing fruit platters.
“Is that sushi?” Fitch asked.
“What else would it be?” Trixie snapped.
“We didn’t all have privileged childhoods, you know,” he snapped back.
“Guess not, didn’t you cut your teeth on moon rocks?”
“If I had my powers, you’d be so dead.”
“Hah, you and whose—”
“Will you shut up!” Zeke shouted. He was at his wits end with their scrapping.
Much to his surprise they both fell quiet.
“Can we start?” Zeke asked one of the guards. The air was heavy with juicy aromas and his stomach was growling like a lion.
The thickset goon grimaced a ‘no’.
“Um, Zeke, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Fitch muttered uneasily.
The door swished open. Ptolemy Cusp, Isla and Lutz Senior strode in.
“Please tuck in. You must be famished.” Ptolemy said with a wave of the hand.
The three teens dived upon the food. The grown-ups did likewise, but with considerably more restraint. Zeke slurped down the soup, which was watery and tangy and brimming with slivers of garlic. Isla looked at him with an indulgent smile.
“Sorry,” he said with a blush. “Feels like I haven’t eaten in two billion years.” He wiped his chin and continued at a more civilised pace.
Trixie was stuffing cherry tomatoes in her mouth, and dripping juice down her blouse. Fitch had almost buried his face in a bowl of rice and was making ungainly snorting noises. Cusp allowed them to satisfy their appetites before speaking.
“So, Mr Hailey. You have questions. So do I. Maybe you can begin.”
“My father Sir. I understand you know where he is.”
Fitch buried his face in his hands.
“Your father? Who is he please?” Cusp replied.
Zeke paled as he stared at the great leader. A most unpleasant idea was forming in his head.
He turned slowly to Fitch.
“You lied, just to get me to come along. Really you were after the orbs the whole time. You wanted me in case there was any Hesperian to translate. And I fell for it.”
Fitch squeezed his left forefinger, but said nothing.
Trixie cackled evilly. “Hook, line and sinker, Earthworm!”
“I think you have your answer,” Ptolemy said. “I regret that it’s not the one you wanted. At least your words convince me you are innocent. A bit of a lamb among wolves, aren’t you? Now anything else you want to get off your chest before we proceed to the highlight of the evening?”
With great effort Zeke turned back to face his host. “Actually yes. Principal Lutz, I was wondering why you keep your clone-hood a secret.”
The old woman gave him a bemused look.
“Przepraszam, excuse me, not secret but classified. That’s a totally different matter. In the beginning all the students knew. But the decades rolled on. Children graduated, new ones came, my status became old hat, then, in time, simply forgotten. I found it easier to rule the school that way. People never take clones seriously, you know. They dismiss us as insubstantial, like photocopies. I must have gravitas to do my job. How else can I strike fear into each generation of earthworms?”
She leaned forward and winked. For the first time Zeke felt a fondness for the old harpy.
“Well, let’s move on,” Ptolemy said.
“But Sir, I have more questions. Why is the Cosmic Migration so urgent? Is planet Earth in some kind of trouble?”
All three adults looked stony-faced. The great leader paused before answering in a hushed voice.
“I’m a leader on Mars, not Earth. It’s not my business. And I am sorry, truly sorry, for the people of Earth. However Mars cannot help, you have to understand that. There’s a limit to how many immigrants we can take.”
Zeke opened his mouth to say more. Ptolemy raised the palm of his hand and silenced him.
“Now we must press on. Isla, if you please.”
Isla wiped her lips clean with a napkin. She stood up and walked into the shadows.
She returned carrying two crocodile skinned suitcases. She heaved both onto the table, between the plates.
Ptolemy Cusp gave a cold smile.
“Apprentice Mariners. Here are the orbs you desired so voraciously.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The Banqueting Chamber
“So, you’re giving them to us now?” Fitch asked hopefully.
The adults laughed.
“Hardly,” Cusp said. “But you might as well have a go at them. See if you have more luck than we did.”
The elderly Lutz banged her stick on the floor.
“The orbs obviously discharged the last of their power into the Hailey boy. They’re kaput.”
“In any case, you’ve dowsed our psychic abilities,” Trixie said.
Isla produced a small metallic object the shape of a tin opener from her fatigues.
Zeke recognised it immediately. A psychometer.
The ambassador’s daughter walked around the table, scanning all three teenagers.
“Trixie Cutter, full psychic power. Phenomenal power, I might add. Too bad she doesn’t channel all that talent to good use.”
Trixie made a face.
“Fitch Crawley. Oh my, his readings are almost off the scale. A genius among genii!”
Fitch lifted his left forefinger to the light, as if checking something.
“Oh?” Isla stopped behind Zeke and tapped the psychometer.
“According to this, Hailey’s a dud. Zero psychic reserves.”
Zeke chewed on his thumb and looked away.
Ptolemy Cusp straightened his shoulders.
“Now, no tricks. The effects of the magnetic rays are wearing off. I am permitting this in good faith. Don’t forget you are outnumbered.”
He nodded to the guards surrounding the room. Zeke counted twelve, all armed with ferromagnetic rifles.
Fitch jumped to his feet, red-faced with excitement. He bounded round to the two suitcases. Cusp lifted the lid of one to reveal a gleaming purple ball covered with intricate markings. The Orb of Words!
Zeke’s heart skipped a beat and then another. Four months had passed since he last came across this artefact, when his life changed forever. It felt more like four years.
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Fitch reached out to touch the Orb then hesitated.
“Has anyone died recently? Like Zeke said?” he asked the great leader.
Cusp shook his head.
“Since we acquired the Orb several psychics have tried it. No one was hurt, nor was anyone successful.”
Fitch turned to Zeke.
“What do I do?”
“Why should I help you?” Zeke replied bitterly.
“I’m sorry I lied to you. The thing is, you’re my hero. And I needed your help. But why would a talented kid like you help a nobody like me? I invented the whole story about your father to make sure you came along. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Fitch’s bright, cold gaze burned into Zeke’s brain. Perhaps the moon boy deserved a second chance?
“Put your finger at the start of the markings, on the equator. They’re a kind of a maze. Just trace the pattern round to the pole position at the top.”
Fitch followed the instructions. Everyone in the room watched with baited breath as his finger drew near to the Orb’s north pole.
“And…I’m there!”
Fitch pushed his finger into place. Breathlessly, he looked into the faces of the others, as if seeking a sign of his transformation. Nothing.
“Damn this rubbish! Nothing but Martian junk!” he screamed and stormed back to his chair.
Cutter giggled maliciously. “So Hailey hasn’t outlived his usefulness just yet,” she said to Fitch.
“What do you mean by that?” Isla snapped with a sudden concern.
“Oh, just joking,” Trixie said and forced an innocent smile onto her lips.
“So now it’s your turn, Miss Cutter,” Cusp remarked.
“Tamper with that Martian voodoo and put my life in peril? I have absolutely no desire to speak alien.”
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