[scifan] plantation - books one to three

by Stella Samiotou Fitzsimons

  to plan.”

  Finn nods and kisses my cheek. I can’t see his face but I feel something wet on it, the salty

  consistency of a single tear. “Remember your promise,” I whisper in his ear.

  When I start climbing onto the pod, Damian materializes out of nowhere in the dim light of early

  morning.

  “I’m going with you,” he says.

  “You can’t do that,” I say exasperated. “The instructions were clear. Only I can go.”

  “I won’t go all the way to the plantation with you. I’ll sneak in later. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

  “No, you’re more needed here.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” he starts saying but I cut him off.

  “I’m not going to put you in unnecessary danger. If they spot you, they will hunt you down. I

  understand your need to do something but you’ll have to do it under Finn’s command. You will both

  join the Dark Legion.”

  I can almost hear the rage inside his head but surprisingly the loyalty in him wins. He bows and

  promises to follow my orders. Maybe there is hope for Damian after all.

  “Wait a moment,” Doc says and pulls me by the arm.

  “What is it?” I say.

  “I managed to get DNA samples from Damian,” he says. “We might have answers soon.”

  “Good,” I say. “Maybe you can help him.”

  As the space pod plunges off into the violet sky, I immediately turn all emotion off. I’ve

  practiced enough hours. Today can be a new beginning or today can be the end. My mind must

  become a sensory super computer. I am like nothing the world has ever known. Rage flows freely

  from my fingertips. The impossible is my personal playground. I can flow seven streams of energy in

  a single instant of glorious destruction.

  I’m going home. Wait until they see what I’ve become.

  PART THREE

  You can never go home again

  16

  Three huge Sliman guards wait for me at the main gate of Plantation-8. They lead me through

  familiar paths and turns to the west wing of the construction. There’s not a single exchange of words

  with my guides. Their lips are sealed and the only sound coming from them is that of their shock bows

  as they swing from the straps over their shoulders.

  The silence comes to an end as we walk past the dorms. There’s a long line of children’s faces

  glued to the windows. Children’s faces that show recognition and respect instead of fear. Those are

  children that might die today because of me. They must know it in their hearts but they don’t hold it

  against me. They start tapping on the windows with their fingernails as I stride down the path to the

  west wing making it harder and harder for me to remain distant and emotionless.

  We reach the HQ building in the west wing. I take a look at the walls and windows and realize

  they have been armored and reinforced with material that will withstand any kind of blast wave no

  matter how forceful or expansive.

  One of the Sliman guards opens the door and leads me inside the HQ. I’ve never been here

  before so there is a certain amount of curiosity involved but what I see isn’t that much different than the HQ building at the abandoned facilities. A small hallway rigged with cameras and sensors. Two

  doors in the back of the hallway, one of them probably leading upstairs. The only difference that I can see is that there is a DNA scanner placed between the two doors. Maybe they put it there specifically

  for me. That would be too bad because I don’t plan to go through it.

  A fourth Sliman comes through the door on the right. He keeps a safe distance but his gaze is

  fixated on me. He looks me up and down for a good minute before he decides to open his mouth.

  “I have instructions to take the sensory receptor from you,” he says.

  “That is not going to happen,” I say. Someone must think I’m really stupid.

  “The instructions were clear,” he insists.

  “As is my answer.”

  He doesn’t like this one bit. He talks into his communication clip in a language I don’t

  understand. When he’s done, he turns his attention back to me.

  “You can keep the receptor for now,” he says, “but you have to give me your backpack and

  everything else that you have on you.”

  I take the straps off my shoulders and hand him the backpack. He opens the door through which

  he came and extends his arm to show me the way. I walk through the door that closes behind me. The

  Sliman don’t follow me.

  The corridor is narrow and dimly lit. As I walk at a slow pace, a bright green light is turned on

  above a door in the back. It’s an elevator door and when I get inside, I notice that the only way is up. I rise in the elevator trying to keep my heart and mind empty.

  When the elevator door opens, I step into a circular room with windows all around, much like

  an observatory tower. A console in the center of the room displays images of different parts of the

  plantation on transparent glass screens.

  Suddenly, I realize how vulnerable I am standing in this room, how I could potentially already

  be a prisoner in this tower. They are probably watching me right now, scanning my expressions, x—

  raying my brain for information. Maybe they are deactivating my receptor. I have been foolish to

  agree to coming here on my own, but that’s not a new conclusion. Foolishness is one of my key traits.

  Maybe the one trait that has kept me going.

  I still have the receptor, though, and it’s no small comfort to know that. I put my fingers in my

  pocket to touch it and I turn it on manually. To my great relief, it responds immediately humming and

  buzzing like a plump, happy bee.

  I take a few steps around the room looking through the windows down at the plantation grounds.

  Nothing has changed since my escape four years ago. The same ugly gray walls dominate the

  landscape.

  “We are pleased to see you.” The voice comes from behind me. By the time I turn, the alien has

  materialized next to the console.

  I shake away my initial disorientation at his startling appearance and reorganize my thoughts. So,

  they are not going to try to shoot me, zap me, poison me or sedate me from afar. Not yet anyway.

  “I’m sorry I can’t say the same,” I reply with my hand on the eager receptor.

  The alien snaps his fingers and the screens on the console go black. He is about my height and

  his face is hidden behind a black mask. His eyes are clear and brown, something very unusual for an

  alien. Most of them have blurry, reddish eyes that have no life left in them.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time,” the alien goes on. I realize that it’s not just the eyes but the voice as well that possesses a rare clear quality. Maybe this is a young specimen,

  although according to Wudak there have been no alien births in many decades, maybe centuries.

  “May I?” he says as he walks to me extending a grayish, dried-up hand.

  He doesn’t wait for my response. He touches my hair curiously, then the skin on my cheeks. I

  tolerate this intrusion for a few seconds before I take two steps to the left and away from his prying fingers.

  “I should say I am surprised to see you here today. I thought you’d put up more of a fight. Bring

  in your fellow Saviors maybe.”

  So they know what we call ourselves and they probably have figured out exactly what we call

  each other as well. If they thought that this little discovery on their part wo
uld throw me in some state of confusion or fear, they are sorely mistaken. There’s nothing that could shock me right now. I have

  accepted that everything is possible.

  “I am glad you didn’t involve them,” the alien goes on. “It would be such a waste to have all

  those talented young human children exterminated. I am sure you will help them see the honesty of our

  intentions. We do not wish to fight you anymore. We want to invite you to be part of our empire. All

  of you.”

  I grab the opportunity to stall him. That’s the initial part of my mission after all.

  “You have an empire?” I say.

  “Of course we do. You didn’t think Earth was all that special, did you? This is just one of many

  planets in the interplanetary empire.”

  “Aren’t most of those planets dead?” I say. “Including yours?” I realize this offensive tactic

  might backfire but it’s too late to take the words back.

  The alien looks at me with a new interest. “How do you know that?” he says.

  “I can read your mind,” I say. Sarcasm isn’t going to help me out of this one though. I have to

  give something up to keep the secret of the rebel Sliman safe. “One of the Saviors. She had great

  psychic powers. She is dead now.”

  This seems to please the alien for now. “One more successful mutation,” he says. “We’ve tried

  it several times but it’s one of the hardest mutations to realize. Most of the subjects die or go mad.”

  “Why does it make you so happy to have successful mutations? What do you need them for?”

  “Happy is not a word I would use,” he says. “Happiness is a human word and it stems from the

  most primitive parts of your brain. We don’t need happiness. We need fulfillment. If I try to make

  something and I succeed, then I am fulfilled. You humans always need a little bit more. You go after

  happiness in the most painful ways. It’s a puzzling thing to watch.”

  “At least we don’t destroy civilizations on different planets.”

  “You would have if you could,” he says. “Because your kind will always need more.”

  “Is this why you chose Earth? Because you hated us?”

  “We did not know who you were when we traveled through the wormholes and space portals

  looking for the right environment and temperatures. The selection was based on compatibility. It

  helped that there was no sustained resistance.”

  “You appeared out of nowhere, didn’t you? The governments of Earth didn’t react because they

  didn’t see you until it was too late.”

  “First we took over the nuclear facilities,” he says with great satisfaction in his voice. “The rest

  was easy.”

  “Genocide is never easy. And if it is, it means you are evil, bloodthirsty murderers and

  everything we do to get rid of you is justified.”

  “I like your spirit,” he says. “I will enjoy having you here.”

  “Why do you want me so badly? Why don’t you just kill me? Especially if the girl that talked to

  me truly is the same as me.”

  The alien moves his hand over the console and the screens come alive again.

  “You know what you are. You are what I used to be. What all of us used to be. Strong, powerful,

  energized, skilled and determined. I look at you and I don’t see our future, I see our past. We used to be the brightest race of intelligent life in the universe. I have to preserve that. You will be safe with me. You can trust me now.”

  “I’d sooner die than trust an invader,” I say.

  “There’s nowhere to go, Freya. Isn’t that what you call yourself?”

  “Is it supposed to scare me that you know my name?”

  “I was amazed at how you managed to get Damian out of the most secure plantation. Even though

  I know what you’re capable of, I didn’t see that coming. I was proud of you. After all, you are my

  creation. And so is Damian. He’s probably my most special child. Parts of his DNA strand were

  created by my own father. Make no mistake, I will claim him back. The seed is in him already and it

  will grow daily. When I call him, he will not be able to resist. He will team up with Kroll. With them and you by my side, I will restore the empire to its past splendor and take over the universe.”

  “Kroll? The Dark Leader? He’s a special child of yours, too?”

  The alien looks more than puzzled now. I don’t care if he knows I know about Kroll. It will all

  be clear by the end of the day. His frustration might be helpful for what I have in mind.

  “You know about Kroll, too?” he says. “Maybe I have underestimated you. You understand you

  can’t blame it all on your dead friend. In time you will have to tell me how you came to know all this.

  For now, what’s important is that Kroll’s allegiance is mine. Damian is turning day by day. His total

  conversion has been set in motion even if you took him away from me. You were the only piece

  missing from the puzzle and now you’re here. Whoever has the three of you will rule the Earth and

  beyond.”

  His eyes sparkle in the morning light that is filtered through the windows. He stretches his arm

  and lets his hand hang freely over the console.

  “Do you see this black key?” he says.

  I lean over to see what he’s pointing at. It’s a tiny triangle surrounded by bigger buttons and

  switches.

  “When I push it, the whole plantation will explode,” he says. “Only this building will remain

  standing. The guards have been safely shielded also. But all two thousand children are locked in the

  dorms. Including the man we know to be your brother.”

  “But you won’t push that button,” I say. “Because I’m here and you need me. I won’t co-operate

  if you do that.”

  The alien snaps his fingers again and a new transparent glass screen emerges above the console.

  This one is the size of the console itself. I can see clear and detailed images from within the dorms.

  Hundreds sets of eyes, little hands and feet, patiently waiting to learn their fate.

  “Do they know the place is rigged to explode?” I say.

  “Yes. They also know who will be responsible if that happens. Now give me the receptor or

  everybody dies,” he says raising his voice as he calls his own receptor to his left hand. The right hand is still hanging above the triangle key of doom. It would take less than a split second for him to send down the pulsing energy that will activate the explosion.

  “You can do whatever you want,” I say. “I’m not giving you my receptor. There’s a wonderful

  union between the two of us now. I’m not ready to give that up.”

  Anger creeps into the alien’s eyes.

  “Stop playing games with me,” he says. “You can’t bluff your way out of this dilemma. You

  would never risk so many innocent lives. No human ever would.”

  “Bluff? Who’s bluffing?” I say employing a stunned face. “I think you are forgetting something.”

  “What could I have possibly forgotten?”

  “I am your creation,” I tell him. “Which means I am not human.”

  As casual as can be I reach forward to the console and push the black triangle key with as much

  force as I can muster.

  17

  The time comes when you have to make the ultimate decision. When you stack up all your cards

  and pull out the one you think will help you win. But there are no guarantees. A calculated risk can

  still lead to disaster.

  I have pushed the button that’s supposed to cause a chain of explosions that
will blow the entire

  plantation to smithereens except for the HQ building.

  The alien is shocked, there’s no question about that. He starts shrieking. Incomprehensible

  sounds come out of his mouth and his hands are shaking. He runs to the window to make sure that he

  is not dreaming.

  There’s no fire, no smoke, no loud explosions, no breaking glass. The plantation remains quiet

  and undisturbed. Nothing has happened.

  The alien runs back to the console and pushes the triangle button again and again. Then he raises

  his face and locks his eyes with mine.

  “You!” he yells. “You did this. You knew the whole time.”

  I nod. “To be fair, I wasn’t sure. I was hoping my army had succeeded in deactivating the

  explosive mechanisms but I took a risk when I pushed that button.”

  “It’s not possible. No army could get past my security systems. Not today and not here,” he says

  with a shrilling tone that is less than becoming. His anxiety levels are so high, I could sense his

  nervous energy in my fingertips.

  “No army? Are you sure? What about the one you trust the most? How about the leader of that

  army? The one that knows all about your security systems and their flaws?”

  “No,” he says. “I won’t believe that.”

  Winning feels good. I may not have won the war yet, but this battle is mine. I wonder if that’s the

  kind of fulfillment the alien was talking about.

  “What was it that you said?” I go on. “Whoever has Damian and Kroll will rule? Is that right? I

  don’t need the whole universe. Just this one little rock. Third from the Sun.”

  I take out my receptor as I walk backward to the window. I switch on the communication

  channel. “Kroll,” I say. “Show your face.”

  Nothing happens at first, but when Kroll responds to my call, he does so in a way that leaves no

  room for doubt. “At your service,” he says and the alien’s eyes turn red in their fury.

  I connect the feed from the receptor to the console. Multiple images of Kroll come up on the

  screen. He looks majestic and ferocious as he walks about Plantation-8 in a long crimson cloak.

  “Thank you for a job well done,” I say. “Now kneel down.”