City of Broken Lights

by K. C. Sivils

  “Chief, I am so glad you are home,” Jennifer’s voice purred. Markeson grimaced at the sound of Jennifer's voice. He'd grown to like this version of her personality, but tonight he wasn't interested in engaging what he suspected was flirtatious behavior from his AI.

  “Jennifer, I’m really tired. I have plans, so please, no arguing with me tonight.”

  "Chief, how could you say something like to me?" Jennifer purred. "I've prepared you a meal and drawn your bath."

  “Thank you, Jennifer,” Markeson absentmindedly replied, checking his messages, deleting one after the other. “Send a link to Cassandra, please.”

  “No!”

  Markeson’s head shot up. Jennifer had never said no to him before in that manner or tone. He frowned and looked back down at the screen on the small table.

  “Jennifer, I don’t care what you think about Cassandra. Send a link. Now!”

  “But, you haven’t even seen me yet,” Jennifer protested.

  Something in Jennifer's voice sounded different, almost as if he'd hurt her feelings, and she was trying to hide it. He shook his head. It was time to wipe the matrix again and start over. It was the one coding flaw with this advanced model of AI. They tended to start thinking they were a person and not a machine designed to serve their master. Markeson turned to go to the service access to wipe Jennifer’s matrix. He stopped dead in his tracks, eye’s wide and mouth open.

  Seeking approval, her tone almost childlike. Jennifer asked softly, "Do you like how I look?"

  HIS OFFICE NO LONGER gave him the thrill, the sense of power it once had. Increasingly frustrated, the Governor decided to go for a ride around Capital City. It had been a long day, filled with irritating disruptions and complaints from petulant financial backers. The only positive of the day had been the link confirming Beta Prime would be allowed to continue its preparations to host the Galactic Winter Games.

  The news should have left him in a buoyant mood. Instead, it had left him feeling ill at ease, a sensation Rankin never liked.

  “It’s that Markeson," the Governor muttered aloud. "He's getting to be too big for his hand-tailored custom suits." Standing up, the politician pressed the intercom on his desk. "Please have my driver pick me up in the secure garage. I'll meet him there in ten minutes."

  A pleasant female voice responded. “Yes, Governor. Will that be all for today?”

  “Yes,” he replied, smiling at the vision of his attractive secretary. “Why don’t you go home early today.” Rankin ended the link and made his way towards the secure entrance to the passageway leading to the underground pick-up point. Grabbing his coat in the process, Ranking slipped silently through the automatic door and briskly walked down the narrow corridor, the lights turning on in advance as he traveled while turning off behind him.

  Waiting for him as he stepped out of the elevator was the black, newly heavily armored limousine he'd just purchased on the taxpayers of Beta Prime's credit. Unconsciously, his fingers went to his throat where he fingered the impact point of the sniper's bullet had slammed into his body armor he'd worn beneath his clothes.

  Ignoring the driver who held the door open for him, the Governor settled into the seat and relaxed. “Where would you like to go, Governor?” Rankin thought for a moment and then answered. “Just drive. I want to see my city.”

  Without a saying a word, the driver engaged the turbine and with well-practiced grace, smoothly guided the car towards the ramp where it would take the limousine above ground. Rankin turned off the intercom, ensuring the driver could neither hear or talk to him.

  “I’ve got to do something about Markeson,” Rankin mumbled to himself.

  THE SOUND OF MEAT SIZZLING, even if it was tank-grown protein, always appealed to Vick’s ear. He liked cooking breakfast on the two mornings a week the New Light Church of God served to the homeless and indigent, a population that was growing at an alarmingly fast rate.

  He hadn’t slept well, and the reason why troubled him.

  Pastor David wouldn’t like it, not one bit. But Vick knew he couldn’t keep something like this from Pastor David. Vick's life had been one run-in with the law after another until he'd "seen the light" during his last stretch. Vick had found a home at the New Light Church of God and would never do anything to jeopardize the work the church did or his small role in the community.

  His small, dingy room in the back of the facility was the first permanent home Vick had ever had. It wasn’t much, but it was his, a real, tangible gift from God. Sitting on the top shelf of a tiny bookshelf made from scraps of plastisteel were Vick’s three prized possessions: his Bible, a picture of his younger brother, and a letter sent to him during his last stretch by Katrina.

  Katrina was an attractive woman, beautiful in fact. Women like that always made Vick feel nervous and less than adequate. Katrina had been different. She made Vick feel at ease. He found it easy to talk to her. She was the reason Vick had found his way to the New Light Church, had found God.

  It was Katrina’s kindness and honesty that had won Vick over, allowed him to see past his cynicism and bitterness, to understand how to accept God’s grace and forgiveness. She was also the first beautiful woman Vick had never lusted for, a fact that for a long time had confused him.

  When Vick had tried to explain his feelings and the confusion he'd felt, Katrina hadn't laughed at him. She'd told Vick she was flattered. Even better, Katrina had been so sweet and asked Vick to be the older brother she'd never had. He'd cried when Katrina had asked him, and he promised to be the best older brother any sister had ever had.

  Vick had made it his mission to look out for Katrina, to make sure the evil characters in the neighborhood didn't take advantage of her kindness or make any advances. More than once Vick had used his fists to make his point.

  As badly as Vick wanted to, he’d never been able to learn about Katrina’s past, her real family or if she even had a family. Pastor David had told him Katrina had secrets, secrets she couldn’t share with anyone, that it wouldn’t be safe for her to do so.

  So, Vick had let it go, content to study to be an assistant pastor, do the work of the Lord at the church, and serve as Katrina’s protective, older brother that she’d never had.

  Once a habitual liar, it had bothered Vick to lie to his new friend, the priest from Beta Prime. Caught off guard when Father Nathan had shown him the image of Katrina, Vick had panicked and lied to the man.

  Grease from the cheap meat landed on his forearm, burning him, causing Vick to snap out of his funk. Hurriedly he flipped the pieces of beef, checking to see if they were cooked all the way through.

  He'd have to tell Pastor David, about the priest and the lie. It was the right thing to do.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I locked the hovercar and began walking the block to the restaurant I'd picked. Sarah hadn't taken her banishment from choosing where we eat for a week very well. I figured taking my time to find a parking spot would give her time to calm down on her own or to vent all of her frustration on Father Nathan.

  The sun was setting, and the first of Athens II's pair of moons was peeking over the horizon. I listened for the telltale hum and clicking of the streetlights turning on for the night as I walked towards the restaurant. When I didn't hear a thing, I stopped and looked in both directions and counted. Only four of ten lights were showing signs of flickering to life.

  I crossed the street and sped up my pace. A fresh, cool rush of air greeted me as I opened the door and walked in. Despite the fact my right eye adjusted to light changes with ease, I always liked to give my organic eye a chance to adapt as well. It pays to be cautious in my line of work. You can never tell who's watching and what they know.

  “We ordered,” Father Nathan informed me from halfway across the small diner. He smiled as I made my way over. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “What did you order for me?”

  “Your regular.”

  Sarah ignored me, drumming her fingers on the tabl
e. I ignored her childish behavior.

  “Are you sure you can get in?”

  My partner screwed up her face and retorted, "I come and go as I please at your place, and you never know unless I deliberately leave clues."

  “So that’s a yes.”

  Father Nathan smiled and leaned back in his chair as the young, plain looking waitress brought our food. Thankfully she had nothing to say, and other than smiling when finished serving us, departed without any irritating interaction.

  We ate in silence. There wasn't much to say, and Sarah was getting anxious. She'd been confined for too long, and the rising twin moons were calling to her. Father Nathan and I each had a piece of pie, I paid our bill, making sure to tip our waitress generously, and we left the confines of the diner.

  Sarah vanished almost as soon as we stepped outside into the heat and humidity. The setting of the sun had not brought with it the breaking of the day’s heat. Dressed in civilian clothes, Father Nathan put his hands in his pockets and crossed the street, making his way towards one of those neighborhood stores that sell a little bit of everything. Its large windows also allowed for a good view of the street Sarah had vanished down.

  I turned right and followed my partner. By now she was already on the rooftop of the building we were interested in. A warm breeze blew down the street, leaving me feeling like I had walked into a sauna. My shirt was clinging to my back by the time I had made it halfway down the street. I crossed over to the other side and adjusted the vision of my right eye.

  As I passed the building Sarah was targeting, I got a good view of the third-floor apartment window we were interested in. My right eye scanned different light frequencies and picked up nothing. I patted the top of my head twice to let Sarah know the apartment appeared to be empty.

  It was sad to see the decline in the neighborhood. Each building I passed was well made, even if pre-fab materials had been used. Sealed windows with for sale or for lease signs told the all too familiar story of neighborhood businesses in decline because of the departure of the people who they relied on for customers.

  In the distance, a lightning strike caught my eye. Not lightning that came with a rainstorm, which I would have welcomed, even if it made things more humid afterward. Heat lightning was the layman's term for it. Whether or not heat caused the display of nature's pyrotechnics, I don't know. I just wanted Sarah to get in, get out, and for us to head back to our dump of a hotel.

  For the second time that evening I found myself counting streetlights, noting how many of them no longer worked. Reaching the end of the street, I leaned against the streetlight illuminating the corner. The light buzzed twice and popped once before growing dim, leaving me in shadows.

  KATRINA PUSHED THE tray with the empty bowl away from her. Her stomach felt queasy, the tasteless stew wasn’t settling well, and she was bored. Being held captive meant having nothing to do and nothing to occupy her mind.

  Time meant nothing as well. The room her captives held her in had no windows making it impossible for her to count the rising and setting of the sun. For all Katrina knew she’d been held captive for a few days or for as long as two weeks. Josef, the mean one, fed her at irregular intervals, making it impossible to keep track of the passage of time by counting the meals.

  Rondello, the Earth African one, was nice enough for a kidnapper. He smiled at Katrina on the rare occasion he stopped to interact with her. She could hear the man arguing with Josef, keeping the younger, hotheaded kidnapper in check. Neither of the men had made any threats or comments about their demands not being met. Nor had either hinted at what the demands they had made were.

  “You finished?”

  Katrina looked up at Josef and smiled at the scowling young man.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s nothing,” Josef mumbled, leaning over to pick up the tray. Katrina’s hand shot out, her fingertips touching his forearm.

  “Whoa, now,” Josef exclaimed, jumping back out of Katrina’s reach. “Rules is rules! You don't touch me, and I don't touch you! Them’s the rules, and Rondello is all about rules!”

  “I’m sorry,” Katrina answered with sincere contriteness. “I’m just, well, bored.”

  Josef’s eyebrows shot up as he studied Katrina’s expression.

  Deciding his captive was sincere, Josef replied, “Yeah, well you ain’t the only one around here who’s bored.”

  “Any word on if your demands are going to be met?”

  A look of surprise spread across the young man’s face. He seemed to think for a moment, his brow furrowed, and his jaw working. Josef peeked outside the room for a second and then cautiously approached Katrina. He leaned over and in a conspiratorial tone whispered, “we ain’t made no demands yet.”

  Katrina jerked in surprise, her mouth open. She shook her head and closed her mouth. Her question had been deliberate, an attempt to elicit even a vague bit of information as to what her captives wanted. Katrina knew her chances of survival were slim, depending on who was to pay the ransom and what it was her captors wanted.

  “Why not?”

  “Good question,” Josef shot back. “No disrespect, but you don’t strike me as bein' worth much. You work at that place for do-gooders. But I do what I’m told, I’m loyal,” Josef snarled, patting his chest. “I do the hard stuff when it’s needed,” he added, the implied threat clear.

  Without another word Josef turned and left, taking the tray with him.

  Katrina pulled her knees to her chest and leaned back against the wall. She clenched her jaw shut in a vain effort to keep her teeth from chattering from the fear she felt. Closing her eyes, Katrina silently prayed for God to take her fear, to at least let her control her body’s reaction to it.

  Minutes passed, and the shakes did as well. Katrina opened her eyes and stared at the threshold of the door she dared not cross. She wondered if a bidding war was going on. Were her organs being sold off one by one or was she going to be sold into sex slavery?

  Would her mother outbid all the others? Tears welled up in Katrina’s eyes. Or would her mother bury the one dark secret that could derail her political ambitions? The fact she had a daughter who was an illegal clone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Once sully had given Sarah the all clear it had taken less than two minutes for her to break into Katrina's apartment. There was nothing special about the place. A typical one-room flat, it had a kitchenette, a tiny bathroom, and the bedroom doubled as the day room. Besides the couch that converted into a bed, the only other pieces of furniture were a table and two chairs in the kitchen. No pictures were adorning the walls or knickknacks placed here and there to make the place have a homey feel.

  Sarah opened the closet in the corner of the room next to the window where she had made her entrance. Inside the surprisingly deep closet was a built-in chest of drawers, the top two of which had been left open. Hanging in the closet were several dresses, pairs of slacks, and cotton blouses.

  Moving on to the kitchenette, Sarah opened the food storage unit and examined its contents. There was a pot of stew, clearly leftovers, and not much else. A quick examination of the drawers revealed a few forks, knives, and spoons and not much else. A single mug and glass occupied the cabinet next to the sink along with a pair of pots and pans — cans of stew and soup filled a single shelf in the other cabinet.

  The bathroom was the lone room where Katrina's presence could honestly be felt. Pink towels with white embroidered flowers hung next to the bathtub. Two similarly embroidered hand towels adorned the vanity. Sarah opened the vanity mirror and found rows of nail polish, eyeliner pencils, mascara, and any other common forms of makeup used by women. Even the bathroom smelled feminine, no doubt from the perfume Katrina wore. Everything was neat and orderly. Beneath the vanity was an empty makeup bag.

  Sarah returned to the day room and stood in the center of it, taking in everything. Returning to the closet, Sarah examined the contents of the two open drawers. The top dra
wer contained Katrina’s undergarments while the second contained sleepwear. Two empty hangers and the lack of a clothes bag told Sarah the story of what had transpired.

  Katrina had been grabbed, and a few items were taken from the closet and stuffed in a suitcase. There had been no signs of a struggle meaning Katrina had gone willingly enough. Whoever had taken Katrina had been in a hurry as evidenced by the untouched supply of makeup.

  The apartment told Sarah a lot about Katrina. She was neat, organized, and feminine, more so in that regard than Sarah. Sully's daughter also lived in a state of constant fear, ready to run at a moment's notice as evidenced by the few possessions. If Katrina had to flee before returning to her apartment, there was little of value to worry about.

  Katrina also had no special modifications other than perhaps the ability to withstand extreme variations in the climate such as heat or cold. If Katrina possessed the ability to shift her molecular frequency and become less visible, she would have avoided capture or escaped shortly afterward. The lack of signs of violence indicated Katrina was no stronger than the average human female her size and age. In short, Katrina was a basic model. Somehow the knowledge Katrina lacked any advanced genetic enhancements made Sarah feel more kindly towards the young woman.

  For the sake of being thorough, Sarah searched the remaining drawers in the closet, all of which were empty. When shutting the drawer that was third from the top, Sarah noted the drawer weighed more than the others. With care, she was able to remove the drawer to examine it closer. Someone had taken the trouble to fit the drawer with a false bottom. Inserting her fingernails into the crack between the side of the drawer, Sarah gingerly pried the piece of material out.

  In the hiding space was a tablet. Sarah pocketed it and replaced the false bottom. She’d already stayed longer than planned, a total of four minutes. After one last look around the apartment, Sarah eased out the window and closed it behind her. In less than a minute she was on the rooftop and making her way back towards the end of the street.