“You might be forced to sell your medical treatments to them if the emissary is successful,” the superhuman woman said, a slight amusement about her.
Another fucking problem.
Ontwenty conducted medical research to solve the human-defect problem. The United-Earth rebellion hated all superhumans and wanted them ousted from power. Some even wanted all superhumans dead. But many of the rebellion humans were defects. In theory, Ontwenty's research could save them, but they were still fighting the federation.
If Emissary Barten established peaceful trades, Ontwenty would be forced to sell her research to a group of terrorists who wanted her dead.
The chatter grated on me. It wasn't that I didn't understand the subject matter—it was just that I didn't know what to do with it. I was an outsider, peering into a world I wasn't a part of, and it made me uneasy. When I had my bearings, I was confident, but new situations reminded me I was on someone else's turf.
I glanced around and caught sight of Endellion in another crowd. Although she was shorter than the superhumans, and didn't share their striking features, she mimicked their quick speech and never faltered, not even when presented with esoteric questions. She smiled, gracious, and then moved to another group, no doubt making sure her presence was felt, despite the large crowd.
To my surprise, people approached Endellion at every turn, asking to speak with her, questioning her goals, and demanding answers. Some individuals—sycophant kiss-asses—clung to her every move, praising her for being a leader of the Homo sapiens. They wanted her ear and her time, discussing all the things she could do for humans, which also helped them, of course. “Humans should stick together,” they said. Translated: “Let me ride your coattails.” I didn't know whether I should have been impressed or disgusted. Who could get angry at a cockroach for scavenging? At least they had chosen someone worth clinging to.
I would have elbowed a bitch midway through the party if I were Endellion. But she couldn't do that. I had already heard whispers about her behavior with Commodore Cho—Brash. Rule breaker. Arrogant. One incident and they'd extrapolated her entire personality and condensed it into in a single word. Anything negative they could attach to her, they would.
My breathing became ragged, probably from the strain of my untreated injury, and I wanted to experience the crisp, planetside air as much as possible before I left. Most of the attendants ignored me. I suspected they thought I was some unimportant nobody, so I slipped outside without trouble.
The garden surrounding the building was an architectural marvel of nature. Trees, bushes, ferns, and flowers had been planted and arranged with an obsessive-compulsive perfection. I ambled through the designated pathways until the hum of conversation disappeared in the distance. The night sky—with the stars clumped together in blackness—made it seem like space itself had come to enjoy the wonders of the planet.
But that didn't ease my loneliness.
I pulled my PAD arm out of the enviro-suit and stared down at the device.
“Sawyer,” I said. “Talk to me.”
“What're you doing outside of the pre-hearing?” she asked.
“Endellion has it handled. If anything, I look like a boob standing next to her and nodding along to every fourth word.”
“You're bored.”
“Yeah.”
I sighed and waited for her to continue, but she said nothing. Sawyer had shit to do. I'd known she might turn me down for a conversation, though I had hoped she wouldn't.
A second later my PAD lit up with micro-vids—tiny little email messages from a handful of people. I stared at them for a moment and realized they were from the other starfighters. Sawyer must have had informed them I was bored. It made me smile.
Lee had a cup in his hand, drinking away at some low-end club for the megafarm workers. He blended right in with three guys hanging onto his shoulder and giving me the thumbs-up. Quinn's message showed her walking the narrow corridors on Midway Station, strolling through her old haunts, dressed down in casualwear. Noah showed me his marksman percentage—83% accuracy. Not bad.
“Getting better,” he said on the vid.
And then Advik sent me a picture of a mud puddle. Not even a micro-vid. I only knew it was from her thanks to the sender's tag. She wasn't in the photo. There was nothing else in the photo, actually. Just a puddle of mud.
What a fucking weirdo.
I was about to send that statement back to her, when I stopped and examined the puddle a second time. It had ripples along the edges, and the mud shimmered with a slight iridescent sheen, like there was oil mixed into it.
I liked it. It was kinda like Advik herself. She required a second glance.
She sent me a message, no audio:
I've been taking photos of the planet all day. Sawyer said you were bored and I figured you might like to see my best shot.
“Where's the color?” I asked, and my words converted to a simple text message.
Advik responded with a photo of Vectin-14's purple sky.
Sawyer said looking at the sky would help get me over my phobia. Want me to send you my collection of photos? I know you're obsessed with this place.
She got me. I should have been taking photos ever since Sawyer gave me the PAD. We were about to leave the planet, and I didn't know when I'd be back.
“Sure,” I said. “Send me everything you've got.”
Advik sent me hundreds of pictures. It was decent entertainment. With a half-smile, I flipped through each one, enjoying the myriad of planetside wonders that were denied to people living on the space stations.
I got lost in the images, enjoying the air with each deep breath.
But I never heard from Mara or Yuan. It didn't surprise me. Mara wasn't dead, but she was in the infirmary, waiting for treatment, and Yuan hadn't been in the mood to talk since the incident.
Time slipped away from me, and after some point, my neck hurt from staring down for so long. I rotated my shoulder and loosened up, but I caught my breath and froze when I spotted Endellion. She stood amid the garden, her eyes closed, and her hand on her temple. Her eyebrows knitted together.
I walked over and crossed my arms. “What're you doing out here?”
“It's time to go,” she said, but her eyes remain scrunched shut.
“The meeting isn't over.”
“It doesn't matter. I know what's needed to accomplish my goals. Lingering any longer would only cause a problem.”
Endellion motioned to the far end of the garden, to a gate that led out of the estate. She took a deep breath and headed for it, recovering her normal, calm façade. I stayed at her side. I knew she must have been in pain.
“Why don't you relax?” I asked, my voice low. “You might be pushing yourself too hard.”
“I'm so close to my goal, Clevon. Stopping now is an impossibility.”
“The enforcers on the Star Marque are banking on your success. I just want to make sure it happens. If you tap out, what're the rest of us going to do?”
Endellion glowered. “You think I'll fail?”
“I never said that.”
“But you think if I continue like this, I will.”
“I think there's a possibility.”
Endellion stared straight ahead, her green eyes displaying a mixture of thoughts that were too difficult to discern. Then she stopped a few meters from our destination and faced me. “Everyone underestimates me. I thought you would be the exception.”
Her statement reminded me of my time on Capital Station. Those thugs and cutthroats had underestimated me too. Obviously, they had regretted it, but that didn't change the fact.
“I've never seen you at your fullest,” I said. “I think you hide it from everyone.”
Endellion offered me a forced smile. “Never play an ace when a two will do.”
“That makes it hard to judge when you're at your limit. I have to guess.”
“What're you saying?”
“I'm saying, if you want me to keep up, if
you want me to be the guy in your corner who never lets you down, I need to know what I'm dealing with. I need to know when to be concerned. I need to know the cards in your hand. Or else all my advice is bunk.”
Endellion brushed back a lock of her long, auburn hair. “You're right.”
“I know.”
She laughed at my statement. After she recovered, she said, “Then you should stop training with the others and join me instead. Starfighter training. Physical training. All of it. You and I are the only ones on the ship who can handle the toughest of obstacles.”
“Fine. I look forward to it.”
“Good,” she said as she walked to the gate. “Because we have two difficult missions ahead. One of them is a private mission. Just for the two of us.”
“Sounds like my kind of assignment.”
* * *
“You know we need to leave soon,” Sawyer said.
She stepped off the mag-lev train and glanced around. There was a nervous tick about her, like she was afraid someone would jump out of the bushes at any second. When she stood closer to me, I smiled.
“I told you,” I said. “You'll love this.”
“If Endellion gets upset…”
“We're waiting for the doctor to get his shit together. We've got an hour before anyone rides us for being late.”
The morning rays shimmered off the dewdrops hanging on each leaf of vegetation. It was almost better than the damn exhibit we were going to visit, but I knew Sawyer didn't appreciate the view as much as I did. She barely gave it a second glance as we walked along the designated walkways.
“This place is so organized,” I said.
“You should see pictures of Vectin-14 from 150 years ago,” Sawyer said. “The place was a mess. Changing governments, wars, mismanagement on the part of the United Earth Governance. It's a lot nicer now, but there are a lot of regulations.”
We walked up to the front doors of the menagerie, and I scanned my arm, allowing us access. Ontwenty had been serious when she said she could get me in.
“You seem to know a lot about everything,” I said.
“I read a lot.”
I laughed. “All I ever see you do is type.”
“You're not with me all the time.”
We stepped inside. The place had a sterile smell, but the results spoke for themselves. Everything shone with a pristine sleekness. The tiled floor. The marble walls. The glass windows.
“What is this place?” Sawyer asked, one eyebrow cocked.
“I guess you don't know everything, do you?” I tapped her shoulder and pointed to one of the many large arched doorways. “It's over here. C'mon. It's amazing.”
The place might as well have been empty. It was the same when I'd visited earlier, and I had no idea why. Who wouldn't want to see a bunch of animals and plants in near-natural environments? The building had multiple biomes specially-made to house a group of compatible creatures and vegetation. The best part was, most of the biomes were open—people could walk right into them. That was probably why people needed an access code to get into the place.
I wondered how much an access code cost…
Sawyer tucked her hands under her armpits as she walked. “I'm not fond of surprises.”
“You don't trust me?”
She groaned under her breath but didn't say anything else.
When we reached the designated biome, I jumped in front of the computer terminal, determined to keep our destination a secret. “All right. Inside you go.”
“You know, I don't usually leave the ship,” Sawyer said. “You should count yourself lucky I'm even here.”
“I'm very lucky.”
“So, why are you deliberately getting on my nerves?”
“Just get inside the damn biome. You'll see.” I grabbed her by the upper arm and shoved her into the room.
The biomes were separated by refraction veils. They were harmless particle screens that stopped lasers, but they also irritated most animals who had eyeballs. It kept them all confined without actually harming them or requiring solid walls.
Giant ferns and trees wrapped in vines made up the majority of our biome. Although it was all inside, the roof had a screen which mimicked perfect weather. The temperature remained a constant 22 degrees Celsius, and the place couldn't have been any more idyllic, even if it tried.
“Okay,” I said, pointing upward. “Here they come. Do you see it?”
A flock of floating fish swooshed around the tops of the trees, moving like any school underwater. Their helium sacs deflated slightly as they descended toward us. Unlike Blub, they didn't make a tooting noise—they almost didn't make any noise at all.
However, just like Blub, the fish resembled koi. Their markings, all unique, were made of orange, red, black, and white, mixing together and giving the illusion of the whole flock as one giant unit. When they sailed by, I reached out and grazed my fingertips along the side of a few, marveling at their scaly texture.
Once the flock continued, I glanced over to Sawyer and noticed she was livelier than she ever had been, a smile across her face.
“Like it?” I asked.
“They have so many,” she said. “I counted 213.”
“You counted them, huh? Why not sit back and enjoy the moment?”
“I've only ever seen them in the labs. Two, maybe three at a time. I didn't know they grouped together like that. What do you call a group of flying fish, anyway? Is it a school? Probably, but it would be amusing if they had some special title. Like a mob, or a team, or a congregation.”
“I knew you'd enjoy it,” I said with a smirk. “And I figured I should get you off the ship every now and again, before you really do turn into a space hermit.”
Sawyer laughed, but it didn't last long. She brushed back her red hair and looked up at me. “Thank you.”
I waved away the comment, almost embarrassed that she had been so genuine. Almost.
“I know a few better ways you can thank me,” I said.
“Not the classiest pickup line I've ever heard, but I'll wait to hear the punchline.”
I shrugged. “Well, considering you've preemptively said no to half my options, I'm going to say you can thank me by telling me more about genetically-engineered creatures.” I gestured to our surroundings. “I bet everything here was made in a lab. It's like we've returned home. Two modified people in a modified world.”
Sawyer lifted an eyebrow. “You're poetic sometimes.”
“You avoid my questions sometimes.”
She sighed. “Very well. What, specifically, do you want to know about genetically-engineered individuals?”
“I dunno. Surprise me.”
“Hm. Let's see. Once upon a time—”
“Take it seriously,” I interjected. “I really want to know.”
She took a deep breath and started again. “When the Federation formed, there were talks about how to solve the defect problem. Genetic engineering was proposed as a solution. Most humans who are engineered never develop any defects, and their DNA is a lot more stable. So…” Sawyer chose a seat on a nearby bench and relaxed, kicking her feet up on the railing. “The Federation approved government-sanctioned modifications. You can see a doctor to have your child modified, and the government will foot the bill if you're someone who qualifies.”
“Is that what happened to me?” I asked. It couldn't have been. My mother had paid for everything herself.
“No,” Sawyer said. “You're special. A private investment. Most of those other guys are made with a purpose. You see, to get the modifications done to your kid, the Federation requires they select a role for them to fill, which guarantees they'll be a productive human in the future. The Federation banks on the modified humans reproducing with normal humans, thus resulting in a stronger gene pool that will solve the defect issue.”
The floating fish came around again, and Sawyer stopped talking to lean forward.
“Tell me what makes them made for a purpose,�
�� I said. “How are they different from me? And tell me about yourself. I want to know everything.”
Sawyer waited until the flock moved away again, following the straggling fish with her eyes until she no longer could. The fish were faster than Blub and moved up and down with ease. Maybe they were improved versions of Blub. They had to be, considering they were so silent.
But then Sawyer sighed. “Look, those other guys are modified to have muscles and quick reflexes and not much else. They don't process information as well or as fast, and they tend to die early. Actually, most genetically-modified humans die early. It's a design flaw. Intentional, I think. Like most of their flaws. To ensure things don't get out of hand.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… sometimes they're made with flaws to guarantee they fit certain molds. You want to know about me? Well, my endocrine system is underdeveloped. Those are the glands that make and secrete hormones. I… don't have intense emotions. And anytime I do, it doesn't last long. Because that's better for a solitary worker, you see. No panic. No depression. Just a need to work, and a fulfillment through accomplishment. But it also ensures I'll be smaller, less aggressive, and not the greatest public speaker. You see what I'm saying.”
“That's a fucked-up method of control,” I said, mulling over the information. “Limiting people's talents.” Limiting their options, really. They didn't have any choice but to be the thing they were made to be.
“Yeah, well, what're you going to do about it? It's a failed experiment, anyway. The defect numbers get higher and higher, and human populations are so separated in some areas that they don't even mingle with anyone who is genetically modified. The Federation now puts its stock in people like Minister Ontwenty, and she's been shutting down most modification labs. Well, the human labs, anyway. Superhuman modification is alive and well.”
I sat next to Sawyer and laced the fingers of my hands behind my head, grimacing at the movement—thanks to my injury—but the pain subsided, so I kept my arms up. “So, is your deficient endocrine system the reason we're not a thing?”
Sawyer smiled. “No. But it is the reason I haven't had many things. People find me off-putting.”
“Because you creep around and spy on everyone.”
Star Marque Rising Page 26
