Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  Shit! I thought I was poor. Does she even own a toothbrush?

  Ella sat down on the bed, patting a spot next to her. “I’m fine here, thank-you. I did plan on coming to see you, but I was afraid the situation with Kyra might have vexed you.”

  “What? No, not at all! I mean, Kyra’s issues are her issues. I wish I could help her, but…” he shrugged. “She made it pretty clear she doesn’t want our help. But with her gone and Kreon holed up in his room the whole time, I’m just… lonely.”

  “Oh no,” Ella purred. “We can’t have that now, can we?” She patted the bed again, and he sat. “I can tell something’s bothering you though. Call it women’s intuition if you want.”

  Tris sighed. It was disturbing how well she could read him, when he’d hardly seen her in the last three days. “The thing is, I’ve been having dreams. Memories, I mean,” he added hastily when he saw her expression. “I think my dad’s memories are bleeding over into my dreams, but they make no sense because they’re all jumbled up that way. And I’ve had proper memories of his, like sometimes when I’m fighting, but that’s very different. And it’s worrying for other reasons. But what I can’t do — and what I really wanted to do — was to understand the memories. Experience them the same way I do my own, you know? I don’t even know if that’s possible, everyone else said it wouldn’t be, but then I end up in a fight and suddenly I’m him. It’s… I dunno. Frustrating.”

  Ella nodded, placing a sympathetic hand on his knee. “It’s a bit of a pickle, to be sure. There is one thing I could try that might help you.”

  “A massage?” he suggested.

  “No. More like a meditation.”

  “Oh. Right.” He didn’t want to sound dismissive; he’d come to her, after all. But holding hands and chanting wasn’t what he was after. He wanted company more than anything; his mental problems were kind of unique, and he was pretty sure that saying ‘Om’ wasn’t going to help.

  She thinks I came here looking for sex, and now she’s punishing me.

  Still, he’d have to try. For politeness’ sake. Being English was such a curse.

  “Um, will I have to say ‘Om’?”

  Ella made a face at him.

  “Okay! Sorry. Let’s do it. Should I sit cross-legged?”

  “If you like.”

  He squatted on the bare metal floor, suddenly self-conscious about his feet. He didn’t know if he was meant to tuck them in somehow. “How do you do it?”

  “Like this,” she said. Sinking to her knees, Ella let her legs slide out to either side until she was in a full splits with her feet behind her. Tris winced in sympathy, but she wasn’t done. She raised her arms over her head, folding them behind herself so her hands touched her shoulder blades. Then she lowered her torso backwards, ending up so flat on the floor he could have opened the wardrobe door without hitting her.

  “That’s… impossible! I don’t even know what that is. It’s like yoga for cartoon characters.”

  She quickly recovered from the position, adopting a cross-legged pose facing him. Her eyes twinkled. “Is this better?”

  “It’s more conventional.”

  “Alright then. Now, say ‘Om’.”

  “Really?”

  “No!” She giggled at him. “It’s just, you look so serious.”

  It was such a relief to hear her laugh. His stupid brain had been concocting disaster scenarios about their relationship, as though there wasn’t enough real disaster going around.

  “Okay,” he said. “Now what?”

  “First I want to see how much control you’ve got over it. Think of a memory. Something you and your dad both share.”

  Tris didn’t have to look very far; the pendant had been on his mind a lot lately. It had become more of a fidget toy than anything else, but he desperately wished he could fix it.

  “Okay, I’ve got one.”

  “Dandy. Now focus on it, and try to imagine the same memory from his point of view.”

  Tris gave it a good go, but felt increasingly more ridiculous as he tried to picture his dad’s perspective. It had been so long since he’d seen his dad, he was starting to forget the details. With a start, he realised some of the images he was using to build up his dad’s image were not of him at all. They were of Gerian…

  With a shudder, he gave up. If attempting to access the chip risked blending his dad’s memory with that murderous bastard, or the other clones he’d been forced to butcher… a bead of ice slid down his spine.

  He’d rather not bother.

  “Tris? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just thinking… I dunno. I don’t think this is going to work.”

  Ella’s smile grew conspiratorial. “If I show you something, can you keep it a secret?”

  That perked his curiosity. Anything to take his mind off what he’d just been thinking about. “Of course! I keep all your secrets.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Tris, sweetie… you don’t know any of my secrets.”

  “Hey, that’s… that’s a good point. Damn, you’re a cagey one.”

  “Goes with the territory, I’m afraid.” She reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a nondescript brown box.

  She placed the box on the floor between them, and opened the lid. Inside was a smaller box, this one smooth and matte black. Ella pressed her left ring finger to an unremarkable piece of the casing, and with a tiny click it split open around an invisible seam. “Don’t touch,” she warned, as though she was reading his mind. “Only I can open this. If anyone else tries, the result will be… unpleasant.”

  “I wasn’t even thinking about it,” Tris lied.

  She moved things around inside the case, doing it by touch without opening the lid more than a crack. “Here,” she said, holding her hand out to him.

  “Safe to touch?” he asked.

  “Not if anyone from the Priesthood saw you.”

  He took what she offered — a matching pair of teardrop-shaped devices, each no bigger than a thumbnail. “Cool. What are they?”

  Closing the case and placing it back in the concealing box, she took the little gadgets off him. “They go in your ears, like this.” She mimed placing them in.

  “Like earbuds?”

  “Ew! That sounds disgusting. What you put in your ears is up to you, but please be careful with these. I can’t replace them.”

  Tris placed one of the things in each ear, giving them a little wiggle to make sure they’d stay there. He’d never managed to keep earbuds in for long, but then he’d never been able to afford decent ones. These fit surprisingly snug, and a second later he heard an almost imperceptible whine from them.

  “Good, they’re working fine. You won’t hear anything, but they’re using binaural frequencies to modulate your brainwaves. I’m going to put you into a light trance, and we’ll see if that makes the memories more accessible.”

  “You have these for meditation, right?”

  She produced a tiny remote he hadn’t even seen her take. “Standard part of my field kit. They’re good for interrogations, and for implanting subconscious suggestions. Given long enough, they can make a person do practically anything.”

  “Really?” Tris raised an eyebrow.

  She gave him a knowing look. “They won’t work on me. I’m trained to resist them.”

  “Damn.”

  “Okay, serious now. Relax, and think of that memory again.”

  Tris did as he was told, already feeling the effect of the devices like a wave of mild euphoria. He took a few deep breaths, dealt with the few pesky itches that cropped up every time he tried to sit still, and focussed his mind on his pendant.

  Not just my pendant. Dad’s pendant…

  And suddenly, there it was. Suspended in front of his eyes like a hologram. Small, yet perfectly formed… made of an unknown mineral wrapped in an unknown metal. Created by a species that had walked the stars while mankind was still learning to use stone tools…

 
And it was broken.

  Tris felt his brow crease in a frown. He’d been sure he’d slipped into his dad’s memories for a moment. But Dad couldn’t possibly know that it was…

  Definitely broken.

  He dropped the thing onto an old, battered work desk. He seemed to have a talent for breaking things. What he couldn’t understand was, why now? Like many Kharash trinkets, the gem fed on the life-force of its user; it had no need for external power. And as far as he could tell, there were no moving parts inside the thing. One moment it had been working, boosting his Gift in direct proportion to the strength he drew from it; the next, nothing. He hadn’t even dropped it, though there was a chance it had been damaged in the scuffle. Kreon’s Portal had lived up to its reputation; all five of the highly-trained psychics that had accompanied him through it had gone mad in the blink of an eye. He’d barely gone ten steps before the first of them broke. Fortunately, the strange, fluid-like environment had slowed their movements. He’d been able to fend them off one at a time, thrusting them into one another while he gained some breathing room.

  Ugh!

  He hung his head. Killing men he respected was no end to a mission. Next time Kreon tried to send men through that blasted doorway, he’d be advised to send them without weapons…

  And they’d be going without him. One trip into that nightmare dimension was more than enough.

  Tris gasped for air. He felt like he’d been submerged in the memory, was almost drowning in it. As it faded, replaced by Ella’s concerned face, he reminded himself to take slow, even breaths. He was safe aboard the Folly, not… wherever that was. He’d recognised the old table from his basement — obviously his dad had a hard time throwing things away. But the rest of the scene had been unfamiliar to him. Not on Earth, that was for sure, but it was like the memory only showed him what his dad was focussing on at the time. He could watch the events as they unfolded, in a disturbingly voyeuristic manner, but he couldn’t go off exploring the environment.

  Which made sense… as much as any of this did.

  “Are you okay?” Ella asked. “I turned it off when you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

  “Yeah. Just, not the most pleasant of memories. I think I saw my dad just after his first trip through the Portal. I don’t think he enjoyed it any more than I did.”

  “Tremendous progress though! Remember, you’re doing something that would be impossible for anyone else. Accessing the memories on your father’s engram as though they were your own, even with the help of the MindSync, is outstanding.”

  “I can’t believe how easy it was. These earbud things are amazing.”

  “Yes, but remember you promised to keep them a secret. MindSync was developed by the Priesthood. It’s not exactly common knowledge. If Kreon knew about it, he’d confiscate it for his dangerous toy box.”

  “I won’t say a word. But can I have one more go? I’d like to try a different memory. Finish on a happy note, you know?”

  She smiled, understanding. “Of course. Close your eyes.”

  Tris felt more relaxed going in for a second dip, and he hoped that would translate to finding more positive memories. Not just his dad, he thought suddenly — imagine if he could see his mum, too!

  He concentrated on picturing the two of them together, before realising he’d do better off trying to picture himself from their point of view. Tricky… he was only four the last time they’d been together. He began to feel lightheaded, as the inaudible tones did their work…

  And then he could see himself alright — a tiny slip of a kid, curled up in bed with his favourite Spiderman pyjamas on. His hair was several shades lighter, and squished into the pillow.

  Tris looked down at his hand — his dad’s hand, actually — and saw another, more delicate set of fingers entwined with his. Mum! He wanted to shout, wanted to spin her around and wrap his arms around her. But that’s not how this deal worked, so instead he was forced to stare at his infant self, fast asleep in a pose he doubted he could even achieve now.

  But his mum was next to him; he could feel the warmth of her hand in his, and smell one of the exotic scents she loved so much.

  When she spoke, he was so startled he nearly lost the vision.

  “Did you find out what it is?” Her voice was every bit as warm and melodic as he remembered.

  Tris felt himself sigh, then heard his father’s voice come out of what he kept thinking were his own lips. “I’ve run the tests again and again, love. It’s always the same. The only thing I can think of is the Kharash element in my DNA. It acted as some kind of… a catalyst, I guess? Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “It’s not your fault, Mikel.”

  “Unfortunately, it is. But you wanted a son so badly, and I broke every rule in the book to give him to you. I thought I was so clever, thought I had it all figured out. When in fact, I’m exactly the kind of idiot those rules are meant to guard against. Playing God, the people here would call it. But whatever happens now…”

  He hung his head, but felt Karra tighten her fingers in his.

  “Hush! Just look at him! So peaceful. He’s perfect.”

  Tris felt his dad smile, in spite of his mood. “Yes, love. That he is. But he’s not human.”

  10

  Tris snapped out of the trance in shock.

  As Ella swam into focus, kneeling on the floor in front of him with a concerned expression, his first thought was blatantly ridiculous; What will she think of me?

  He would have slapped himself, if he’d been able. In the grand scheme of things, after what he’d just learned, that seemed pretty damn trivial.

  Still, as the full horror of the memory continued to unfold, he couldn’t shake that one stupid, yet overriding fear. Ella’s eyes were full of sympathy, obviously believing he’d witnessed something tragic.

  And in a way, he had…

  Did Dad even want me after that?

  No. That wasn’t a fair question. Since losing his mum, they’d spent more time together ‘as a family’ than was healthy. The countless hours in the basement sparring with weapons… definitely not normal behaviour. But not something you’d do with a failed science project.

  Mum loved me, and Dad loved me. He was telling himself that to keep his freak-out to a minimum. Finding out he was a clone had led to a fit of depression that made him embarrassed to think about. He didn’t want to repeat that — although the memory of Kyra snapping him out of it was amongst his favourites.

  Again, the question rang in his brain like a mantra, the very inanity of it a clue to the state of his mental health.

  What will she think of me? When she knows the truth?

  It wasn’t something she could find out easily. Maybe never.

  But living a lie had never been high on his list of priorities.

  So he blurted it out.

  “It was my dad.” He took a breath, struggling against a sudden lump in his throat. “He said I’m not human.”

  She took it rather well, all things considering.

  “You’re sure that’s what he said? You heard him say it?”

  Tris stared at the deck, wishing he could just melt into it. “I said it. When I’m in his memories, it’s like I am him.”

  “I see. I guess he did a little experimenting with the mix when he was making you.”

  From anyone else, it would have sounded cruel. But Ella managed to imbue the words with a slightly ironic edge, as though there was a big joke in all of this somewhere.

  “He tried to make me like him,” Tris explained. “It was an accident.” Talking about it to Ella was easier than he’d thought, because there was a complete lack of judgement coming from her. She didn’t even seem to notice how pathetic he was being, or didn’t mention it if she did. It was a marked contrast to Kyra, and he felt himself relaxing slightly. Tears still threatened, and he sniffed them away.

  Ella laid a hand on his knee. “Childhood trauma is what makes people like us great. If you’d been part of a hap
py, normal family, do you think we’d have done any of the things we’ve done? Would we even have met?”

  He nodded, too dispirited to argue. Childhood trauma wrecked a lot of lives, too, and the jury was still out about which side of the fence he came down on.

  “Your parents loved you, while they were alive?”

  Tris sniffled again. He was getting close to losing control and sobbing like a baby. “They did. Very much, I think.”

  “Well then! That’s way more valuable. And your dad left you this,” she waved a hand around to indicate the Folly. “So he definitely saw potential.” Her voice went quieter, turning wistful. “I never knew my parents. I was raised in an orphanage until I was nine. Then I was kidnapped by the Priesthood and spent the next few years living in a cell half the size of this room. We fought every day, we were exposed to every kind of privation and torment you can imagine, we endured countless surgeries…” she trailed off, but when he looked up, she winked. “I turned out okay.”

  “True,” he admitted. “But you’re human. You’re real. I don’t know what the hell I am. Don’t I disgust you?”

  Ella favoured him with a smile. “Tris, cloning and other genetic tinkering carries a very high risk. That’s one of the many reasons why it’s banned. Even the Priesthood prefers to capture its recruits, rather than grow them. The Lemurians may have improved the technology a tad, but I doubt they’ve perfected it.” She ran both hands through her hair, pulling out whatever restrained it and setting the red curls dancing for freedom. “I wouldn’t let it worry you though. Science-y folk get all hung up on labels. After the amount of work I’ve had done, I doubt I still qualify as human either.”

  Tris opened his mouth, but the protest died on his tongue. “Eh? How do you mean?” he said instead.

  She chuckled at him then — a soft sound, without a trace of mockery. “Oh Tris! You know I didn’t become this superb a specimen naturally, right? The Priesthood doesn’t stop tinkering with us until we’re perfect. Why do you think you find me so irresistible?”