Skin Dominion

by Tania Hutley

  Great. If there weren’t soldiers with us, I’d say something about how stupid that is. But I guess I’ll need to put up with being a silent bystander while Sentin makes all the decisions.

  I sigh and stare at the squat buildings in front of us. One thing I can say about this car, it’s fast. The city of Reliance is quickly getting closer. Hopefully there, the million questions I still have might be answered.

  Eleven

  So this is Reliance.

  The biggest city in Deiterra, but can it really be called a city when there are no scrapers at all? None of the buildings are more than two or three stories tall. Most are made of some kind of natural stone. I can’t see any built with steel or concrete, which are what all the buildings in Triton are made of.

  As our car winds its way to the imperator’s palace, Cale and I stare at the narrow streets, fascinated by this view of lives so different to ours. A few people are walking along sidewalks, probably headed to jobs or whatever schools they have here. Their hair and clothing styles aren’t unlike the ones on our side of the wall, but so far I haven’t seen anyone with an obviously tweaked face.

  With the car open to the outside air, the wind that blows over my face smells surprisingly clean, even fresher than the air in New Triton, and nothing at all like the constant pungent tang of urine, sweat, and filth of Old Triton. The streets are quieter here than on the other side of the wall. There are no street stalls, and no rough sleepers. The houses are built separately without sharing any walls, and some even have gardens between them, as though they have all the space in the world.

  With the legionnaires watching, I don’t want to seem like I’m gaping open-mouthed at everything. But it seems so far from the bustle and crush of Triton, I can’t imagine what it must be like to live here.

  Eventually, we pull into a driveway that cuts through an expanse of grass so green it doesn’t look real. The mansion we stop in front of is enormous. Not tall, but wide and sprawling, far wider than any building I’ve seen in Triton. It’s white, with ornately-carved columns around its girth, and large, elegant windows.

  This has to be the imperator’s palace.

  We pile out of the cars, and a couple of the legionnaires bring our luggage. The legionnaires march us inside, showing us into a lobby with marble floors, and walls that look like wood and are a deep, rich brown. They could even be made of real trees.

  A woman in a stiff white dress greets us, takes us down a long hallway, and ushers us each into a separate bedroom.

  “Please rest,” she says. “His Excellency has invited you to dine with him. I’ll collect you at six o’clock.”

  She closes my door firmly, as though she expects me to stay inside. The bedroom is as extravagant as everything else in this place, with a large bed, some enormous closets, and an attached private bathroom.

  I wait a minute or two until she’s likely to have left, then open my bedroom door and peer into the hallway. The door of the next room opens, and Cale pokes his head out.

  “Come in here.” He motions me into his room, which turns out to be identical to mine.

  “Can you believe this place?” I ask, sitting down on his bed. It’s covered with a silky red cloth that feels cool and luxurious under my hands.

  He closes the door. “I’m glad I came with you, to see it for myself.”

  “Crazy as it sounds, the entire way here, I kept looking for a glimpse of Tori. As though she might happen to be walking along the street.”

  “If she’s still wearing her band, she might have location tracking on.” He pulls up his own band’s control panel. “The swarm network Sentin set us up with seems to be working. I’m getting no signal from Tori at the moment, but if she finds a network and manages to connect to it, I should get pinged. It’s a long shot, though. It doesn’t look like the Deiterrans have their own public network.”

  “Thank you.” I let out my breath, trying not to get my hopes up. “And maybe our hosts will show us more of Deiterra. We could ask for a tour and use the time to search for her.”

  “I’d like to see more of Deiterra anyway.”

  “Me too.” Getting off the bed, I go to the window to gaze out at the wide expanse of green grass outside. Even if we were here forever, I don’t think I’d get tired of looking at it.

  “Did you see this?” Cale opens one of the large closets, and it’s not actually a closet at all. Inside is a mini kitchen, with a bench top and sink. Instead of a food production unit, there’s a round metal canister full of water, and a bowl of real fruit. Now the closet door’s open, the fruit’s scent is strong enough to make my head swim.

  I pick up a round, yellow fruit that’s about twice the size of the one I ate on the way here. When I hold it to my nose, its fragrance is better than perfume.

  “It smells like orange juice.” I say.

  “Maybe it’s an orange.”

  I bite into its skin, but it’s thick and bitter. Now though, the smell is even stronger, and a little moisture leaks out from inside. When I pull off some of the outer skin, the juice that runs over my hands is delicious.

  Passing the fruit to Cale, I lick my fingers. “Did you ever think you’d get to taste a real orange?”

  He puts some of the inner flesh in his mouth, then closes his eyes and groans. “I’ve never had anything like it.”

  I grab another piece of fruit from the bowl. “I want to try all of it.”

  “Me, too. Instead of having dinner with the imperator, I’d rather stay here and gorge myself.”

  My stomach turns over at the reminder of the important meeting about to happen. I don’t know why Sentin seems so certain we can negotiate peace. We attacked Deiterra, then blamed the war on them. They have good reason to hate us.

  “Are you nervous?” Cale asks.

  I blow out a loud breath. “Why would I be nervous? We’re in a foreign land, we have no idea who we’re dealing with, and they might easily decide to kill us instead of negotiating with us.”

  He shoots me a sideways look, and I realise that of the three of us, I’m the only one who won’t actually die if they do kill us. I didn’t understand Sentin’s quantum entanglement explanation, but as long as he’s right about the consciousness transfer back to my human body working over such a long distance, I’ll just wake up back in Triton, in Edward Morelle’s pod.

  “Sorry.” I grimace. “I’m sure Sentin wouldn’t have agreed to this meeting if he thought they’d execute us.”

  “He does seem to know everything before it happens.” Cale scrapes the last of the orange’s flesh off its thick skin with his teeth, then leaves the peel on the counter and washes his hands in the sink. “I’m starting to wonder if we’re just actors who don’t realize we’re playing parts in a movie Sentin’s directing.”

  “It does feel that way,” I agree.

  “Want to go and get some rest before the meeting?” he asks.

  I shake my head. Give up alone time with Cale? No way. “Let’s talk first, then I’ll go and wash up.” I sit back on the bed, curling my legs up on its silky cloth. “What do you think it’d be like to live in Deiterra? And where do you think all the people are?”

  He sits down too. Not close enough that we’re in any danger of touching, but not so far as to make me lose hope of him ever getting used to this Skin.

  “They didn’t have the Welcon disaster on this side of the wall,” he says, leaning back on his hands.

  “But even before Welcon, Triton was overcrowded. Why do we have so many people when they have so few?”

  “We don’t know anything about their lives. Maybe they’re not allowed to have children.”

  I shake my head. “That can’t be it. On the way here, I saw a couple of kids walking down the road.”

  “Then it’s a mystery. We’ll need to draw up a list of things to ask Sentin about.” He shoots me a smile that flashes a hint of dimple. “Sentin loves answering questions, so I’m sure he’ll be eager to tell us everything.”


  I smile back. After all that’s happened, just to know that I can still sit and talk like this with Cale is a relief. When we joke together, the weight of responsibility eases from my shoulders a little. Or maybe it’s just easier to bear. Without him, I’d be so busy thinking about what to say to the imperator, I’d have tied myself in knots by now.

  “You’re right.” I keep my voice as light as his. “Sentin talks too much. I wish I could get him to stop with all the explanations.”

  Cale’s expression turns serious. “Speaking of explanations, what was with the legionnaires calling him sir?”

  “That should definitely go on the list of things to ask him.”

  Cale gets up to take another piece of fruit from the bowl. “Do you think everyone here eats food that’s been grown on trees? I mean, all the time?”

  “Judging by all the gardens, they must.”

  “Imagine living in all this space.” He holds the fruit to his nose, but doesn’t bite into it. “Now we’ve seen it, would you want to move here? Hypothetically speaking, I mean.”

  I shrug. “It seems like paradise, especially compared to Old Triton. But this place must have its drawbacks too. We just don’t know what they are yet.”

  “I’d like to grow something and eat it.”

  “How long do you think it takes to grow food? Say, that piece of fruit?” I nod at the mottled yellow-green globe he’s holding to his nose.

  “Weeks or months, maybe? A lot longer than pressing a button to make food come out of a machine.”

  He offers the fruit to me, and I take the first bite before passing it back. We eat and talk about everything we’ve seen so far until it’s time to get ready. I go back to my own room to wash and change into clean clothes, and just before six o’clock, the woman who showed us to our rooms reappears. She leads the three of us down several long hallways, to a luxurious sitting room with gold and white walls. It reminds me of a movie I once saw that was set in the eighteen hundreds. There are chairs grouped together that we could sit on, but Sentin stays standing, so Cale and I do too.

  A waiter offers us drinks, and I accept a glass of something cold and delicious, that gets warmer as it goes down my throat. I take a bigger gulp and Sentin shoots me a warning look.

  “The drinks are alcoholic,” he murmurs. “Sip it slowly. Try to copy everything I do.” Leaning in close to speak to me, his cologne fills my senses with the sweet and spicy scents of licorice and aniseed.

  Sentin puts his untasted drink down on a small coffee table. I take one more sip of mine, then reluctantly do the same. Though it tastes nothing like street brew, I’m willing to be cautious. Cale keeps hold of his glass, as though he’s decided the taste is worth the risk of getting drunk.

  A young man comes into the dining room. He’s wearing a silky white shirt and black trousers, and looks to be in his mid-twenties, barely older than Cale or Sentin. He has olive skin, but it’s light enough that I doubt he’s had melatonin added. He has an attractive face, but his nose would be considered too big in New Triton, and his dark eyebrows are crooked and overly bushy. In fact, everything about him looks natural, as though he hasn’t been tweaked at all.

  Sentin dips his head in a respectful semi-bow. “Prince Otho, we’re honored to meet you.”

  I’m glad I put my drink down or I might have choked on it. A prince who looks like a sinker? They can’t have tweaking over here at all.

  The young man extends his hand. When Sentin takes it, he bows over it rather than shaking it. Then he glances at us, clearly wanting us to do the same.

  “This is President Morelle, and Cale Rickard.”

  I take his hand and bow like Sentin did, and Cale does the same.

  “A pleasure.” The prince sweeps us with a wide smile that looks genuine. “My father will be here soon, but I’m glad we get a few minutes alone. I want to hear all about Triton.”

  Sentin nods. “Certainly, sir. What would you like to know?”

  Prince Otho waves his hand in an exaggerated gesture. “Everything. No, wait. Tell me about the Skins first, then everything else. And there’s no need to be formal with me. You can call me Otho.” He looks at Cale. “You were in the Skin Hunter contest too, weren’t you, Mr. Rickard?”

  “Please, call me Cale. I wasn’t in the contest itself, but I used the Saber-Toothed Tiger Skin for a few weeks.”

  “What was it like using the Skin?”

  Cale glances at me, and I sense his hesitation. He’s wondering if Prince Otho is looking for information to help his father’s efforts to reverse engineer the Skin technology. It sounds like the prince is a genuine fan of the contest, but his boyish enthusiasm could be just an act.

  “The Skins combine animal and human DNA,” says Sentin. “Autonomic bodily functions are controlled by the Skin’s brain stem and central nervous system.”

  The prince nods politely, but the spark in his eyes dims just a little.

  “Their biological tissue is grown around a synthetic core,” Sentin continues. “The transferral technique—”

  “They were a lot of fun,” Cale interrupts. “Can you imagine racing up a tower in a body that’s several times stronger and faster than your own? It was the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done.”

  The prince grins, the sparkle coming back to his eyes. “I’d give anything to be able to try it.”

  “Perhaps you could visit Triton and use one of the Skins from the contest.” Cale flicks a questioning glance to Sentin.

  Sentin nods. “Of course.”

  “But I’ve heard you lie in some kind of pod to transfer out of your body. Is that necessary? I’m not comfortable in small spaces.”

  “You suffer from claustrophobia?” The spark of interest in Sentin’s tone is subtle, and if I hadn’t gotten to know him over the last few days, I probably wouldn’t have caught it. But for some reason, Sentin’s gaze has sharpened on the prince.

  Otho chuckles uncomfortably, his cheeks reddening like he wishes he hadn’t mentioned it. “When I was a boy, I managed to get myself trapped in a tiny storage closet. Pitch black in there and hellishly uncomfortable. It was several hours before anyone found me. A little longer, and it wouldn’t be such a funny story. The air was getting thin.”

  “You don’t need a pod,” Cale assures him. “The ones we used checked our vital signs, and kept our human bodies hydrated and our muscles stimulated. But all that isn’t necessary if you only use the Skin for a few hours.”

  “In that case, I’d like to experience what it’s like to use a Skin.” The prince leans forward, talking only to Cale now. The two of them seem to have forged an instant connection. “Which of the Skins—?”

  The sound of the door opening interrupts him, and we all turn to look at the uniformed staff member who’s bustling noisily in, clearing his throat. “Presenting his Royal Excellency, the Imperator of Deiterra,” he announces.

  A man strides in behind him, wearing long golden robes, so long they sweep the floor. Their opulence is made even more impressive by the imperator’s height. He’s taller than both Sentin and Cale, and much taller than I am. He’s bald and barrel-chested, but his face isn’t nearly as fleshy as the Beast’s. His features are craggy instead and his nose is bigger and more hooked than his son’s. If he were a Skin, I’d be sure he had some eagle DNA mixed in.

  “Your Excellency.” Sentin bows low, holding himself down for a second or two at the bottom of his bow.

  Cale and I glance at each other, then do the same.

  “Welcome.” The imperator’s tone is dismissive, as though we’re not welcome at all. “Formal negotiations will take place over dinner. Until then, I wish to hear about the assassinations of President Trask and Vice President Burns. And our esteemed ambassador, whom I’m told fell victim to an explosion.”

  “Of course, Your Excellency.” Sentin bows again, just his head this time. “We have had a certain amount of civil unrest. However, democratic elections will be held in a few months, and until then,
President Morelle is acting President of Triton.”

  The imperator turns his gaze onto me. His eyes are brown, but nothing like Cale’s. The imperator’s are as dark as some of the patches of soil I saw on the way here, where seeds must have been freshly planted, and the ground was wet.

  “I’ve come here because I want peace between Triton and Deiterra,” I say.

  Sentin frowns at me. Too late, I remember he told me not to say anything. But what does he expect me to do, stand around like an ornament?

  “Negotiations will take place over dinner.” The imperator looks down his beaky nose and speaks in a clipped tone, as though telling off a child. “Until then, we will discuss the current situation in Triton.”

  I press my lips together and suck in a long, silent breath. This is already promising to be a very long evening.

  “Your company developed the Skins,” the prince says to me, his smile gone. “You created the army that attacked us. How can we believe you want peace now, when you’re the one who—?”

  “That’s enough.” The imperator cuts him off with a glare.

  There’s a noise from the door, and I turn to see two men and a woman entering. All three are wearing army uniforms, with medals pinned to their chests.

  A staff member introduces them, and I immediately forget their names. All three are legates, which I guess must be the top rank in the legion.

  They all accept one of the strong drinks from the waiter, then stand ramrod straight with serious expressions, as though it’s a toss-up whether they’re planning to salute or sip their drinks.

  “President Morelle.” One of the legates addresses me. “Please tell us, how many Skins do you have left?”

  Sentin turns his calm gaze on the man and speaks for me. “I’m afraid that’s classified. We brought forty-seven with us. That’s all the president is prepared to say.”

  “The Skins did a lot of damage here. They wiped out several food stores. Then, all at once, they simply collapsed.” The legate’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

  “The soldiers’ chips were wiped,” says Sentin.