The Memory Thief

by Sarina Dorie

  Taishi bowed his head. “As I told the men in your party, if they knew where the stones came from, I doubt they would have wanted it.”

  An hour later the snow stopped.

  We were now faced with choices that might determine the fate of the remaining Jomon people. We could take the chiramantep with what we could strap to them, or we could fly the ship closer. If the ship was nearer to the settlement, their location would be known, just as Taishi Nipa feared. Even if I erased the ship logs, a task I was quite capable of doing, I had no doubt records still existed in the babbage cards in the ship’s brains. It was hard to imagine what the consequences would be. Would all who remained of our original crew be forced to live with the Jomon, lest they give the location away? Or would it be better that the indigenous colonists’ location was known? Who could I contact in the United Worlds who wasn’t likely to be under Lord Klark’s thumb?

  I laid a hand on Taishi’s arm to stop him from strapping the bags to the chiramantep . “I know you don’t want to take chances, but I believe I must share your existence with the United Worlds. The government of the United Worlds must know who you are and your plight. We must tell many people so that one man, no matter how powerful, cannot be allowed to exterminate a species.”

  He shook his head. “This is a great risk. It is difficult to put my people’s fate in the hands of gaijin nipas.”

  I stared into his black, somber eyes that had once been continuously smiling. “These are my people. I know their ways.”

  He smoothed a strand of blonde hair from my face. “I will listen to your words and do as you advise.”

  “Mr. Foster will fly the ship closer to save time. I will then notify the United Worlds.”

  He frowned, clearly uneasy, but he didn’t object. The ship took longer to warm up and ready than it did to fly to our destination. The flight was so smooth and quiet, the chiramantep remained happy in the cargo bay munching on the captain’s private reserves of raspberry tarts, lemon custard and filet mignon.

  Taishi Nipa and I packed the remaining supplies into bags. Mr. Foster assisted lugging the bags into the cargo hold. I readied the chiramantep alongside Taishi Nipa.

  I bowed to him. “I will stay and send the message. I can descend the cliffs on my own after I finish.”

  He looked as though he were about to refute this.

  “Go. Your people need you. I will be along shortly.”

  He kissed me goodbye. “We will meet again soon.”

  It was a long walk from the cargo bay to the bridge. I was alone in an almost deserted vessel, but I felt as though a thousand eyes watched. I glanced up at the camera mounted on the ceiling. The red eye tracked me as I moved.

  With growing unease, I seated myself on the bridge in the captain’s chair. Unlike the private quarters with their ability to record, but not send messages without first going through the ship’s comm station, the bridge could send messages directly to other worlds and space stations. There would be a time delay as the messages bounced from hyperspeed stations, but it would be five seconds at the most.

  I scanned the electronic directory for the president of the United Worlds. His line was, naturally, busy. The comm-bot asked me to leave a message. I was assured the serial number of my sending post would be known and if I was a princess, ambassador, or general, my message would be forwarded to the front of the queue.

  Had I not been seated where I had access to the entirety of the ship monitors before me, I might not have noticed Mr. Foster lock the ship doors.

  I pressed the button for the ship intercom. “Mr. Foster, what are you doing? Nipa might need to come back for more supplies.”

  His voice was tinny and metallic over the ship speakers, leading me to wonder where he was. Probably the engine room. “Yes, and if that savage returns and we wish it, we can choose to unlock the doors. Or if the captain sees the ship and wishes to return to it, he knows the access code from the outside. Only friends will be able to get in.”

  “The Jomon are our friends. I say we leave the doors unlocked.”

  He snorted. “Not according to Captain Ford’s message. He left me in charge of the ship and I will do my job to protect it.”

  “Captain Ford isn’t in charge of this mission, now is he? Lord Meriwether Klark is.” I added a white lie, hoping it would help. “And he appointed me to carry it out, therefore my seniority outweighs yours.”

  “I sincerely doubt that, miss.”

  I wasn’t sure what vexed me more, that he implied I was a woman, therefore I could never outrank him, or that he thought Meriwether wouldn’t leave an important deed in my care. Then again, if Meriwether was in on this entire plot with his father. . . .

  Mr. Foster’s voice came in clearer now. “What if a tribe of them come to kill us in our sleep? Or worse yet, destroy the ship. You do know how the Santa Maria was destroyed, don’t you? Someone took out the faceted diamond in the laser and replaced it with another stone. The light refracted the wrong way and destroyed the ship.”

  I remembered Taishi Nipa’s questions about the ship laser. I didn’t think he would have destroyed the Santa Maria, but he had wanted to know the answers to his questions for a reason. Had someone intended to use the laser as a weapon, but they had destroyed the ship instead?

  Mr. Foster’s implication did little to ease the unsettled churning building in my core. I didn’t know which scenario was worse, that he should be right and the Jomon—or a few of them—truly were our enemies, or that I might be locked in the ship alone with one of Lord Klark’s men. Surely Mr. Price hadn’t been Lord Klark’s only infiltrator over the years.

  I attempted using the manual controls of the bridge to override the lock. When that failed, I had no other choice but to allow Mr. Foster control.

  “Very well,” I said.

  The doors to the right of the captain’s chair swished open and Mr. Foster entered with two cups of tea on a tray. “Sugar?” Milk?” he asked. Suddenly he was now serving tea and performing “a woman’s duties” voluntarily?

  I bowed my head to him as though he were Jomon, but stopped myself midway through. “Thank you, I’ll have mine later. I need to send a message. If you don’t mind, I need a moment of privacy.”

  “Oh, for Lord Klark?” The smile plastered across his cheeks looked more like a sneer than any gesture of merriness.

  I bowed my head. “As you can imagine, it is a delicate matter that ought not be overheard.”

  Mr. Foster’s mustache twitched. He left the tray of tea and slipped out from the room.

  I could only hope he wouldn’t interfere with what I was about to do next. I scanned the directory, attempting to contact a number of different ambassadors and leaders, none of whom had the time to speak with someone sending a message from a lowly captain’s comm unit.

  At best, I could record a message and send it to many, hoping it would get through to at least one of them soon. On a lark, I looked up Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Jefferson, my mother’s parents, and cc’d them.

  “Hello, my name is Felicity Earnshaw, daughter of William Earnshaw and Lady Clementine Jefferson Earnshaw, also known as Felicity of the Stars to the indigenous people of the Jomon tribes here on the world we call Planet 157. I have a story to tell to those who will listen. I must start at the beginning so you will understand my dilemma. . . .”

  I began with my mother’s death and my father continuing in her footsteps, and moved on to my sister and me discovering and befriending inhabitants who were descendants of one of the original tribes who set out millennia ago. I explained the circumstances around the rare, red diamonds and how valuable they were deemed to be.

  The part about Lord Klark was more difficult to describe, as I didn’t know what crimes he had committed. Even sticking to the facts of what I had witnessed and the destruction of what I had seen in Taishi’s memories—my memories now—I had to backtrack to explain how some of my memories had been wiped away and some returned. Several times I reversed the recording
and started over to clarify details for someone unaccustomed to Jomon. I told of my first meeting with Lord Klark and my upbringing in his care, including the way he forbade me from going out in public lest people gossip about me.

  I paused the recording when Mr. Foster entered. “I forgot the cookies,” he whispered, setting them on the tray. “Don’t mind me.”

  Not sure whether to be vexed or wary, I waited until he left. I didn’t have access to the entirety of the ship’s controls, but I did have the ability to lock the bridge door and I did so.

  I continued my recording. “I don’t know if a reason was contrived to excuse me from meeting my family or if they have chosen not to contact me. It is my hope that my sister and I will both have a safe place to go among family should we have need of it. I can guess that if my mother’s elopement brought Lord and Lady Jefferson’s disapproval, then my own marriage to a Jomon emperor might bring an even greater divide. It is my hope that you will not spite the people of this world for my choices and instead aid them when they are on the brink of extinction at our doing. If you cannot bring yourself to do so for me, it is my hope you will for these people.” I ended the recording, leaning back in the captain’s comfortable chair. What a relief it was to tell someone the entirety of my story. I considered whether I had said all that needed to be said. As it was, my message was twenty minutes long.

  The sizzle of ozone registered, but I thought nothing of it. I lifted a finger to press send.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  I turned to see Mr. Foster aiming a laser pistol at my head.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cautious, careful people, always casting about to preserve their reputations . . . can never effect a reform.

  —Susan B. Anthony of the United Worlds of America

  Mr. Foster’s mustache twitched up and down as it was wont to do when he was agitated. “Put your hands up where I can see them, Miss Earnshaw.”

  I stayed frozen, my hand hovering over the send icon. “You are Lord Klark’s informant?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Do you think he has only one?”

  “How did you get in without my noticing?” The door had never swished open.

  He nodded to the adjoining meeting room. The door to that chamber was open, as was a hatch in the ceiling. I glanced around the room to see if there was anything near that I might use as a weapon. Aside from the tray of tea, there was little.

  “Put up your hands. I will shoot you if I have to.” His mustache twitched again.

  “I believe I’m more valuable to Lord Klark alive than dead. After all, his son isn’t likely to inherit a fortune if I die.”

  “Alive is preferred, but not vital. Should you become maimed, I have no doubt Lord Klark will forgive me. You don’t need both your hands anyway.” He shifted his aim from my head to my hand. “Step back or I shoot.”

  I withdrew my hand and scooted to the far side of the captain’s chair. Mr. Foster trained his gun on me as I crossed over to the tea tray. I stared at the steaming pot, thinking of Tomomi’s lessons, but it was Nipa’s that came to mind. I had to be clever with what I had.

  My heart thundered in my ribs. I poured two cups of tea. In my corset I could scarcely breathe. I had to weigh my priorities. A planet was at stake. I would do the Jomon little good if Mr. Foster destroyed my message. Lord Klark would kill the natives and I would never forgive myself. If I was permitted to live.

  I added a lump of sugar to my tea.

  Mr. Foster’s mustache twitched. “What are you doing?”

  “Do you take sugar, Mr. Foster?”

  He said nothing. His eyes shifted to the communication pad to the right of the captain’s chair. As he stepped forward, I threw the teapot at his head. He dodged, but not in time to stop a splatter of hot liquid from splashing across his face. He screamed and lunged forward. I anticipated he’d move toward me and threw the remainder of the tray. I dove toward the send button.

  He squeezed down on the trigger. I yanked my hand back. The first bolt of red light shot out of the gun. The sound crackled in the air. The pulse of beams hit the computer. I dropped to the ground to avoid the spray of fire and metal.

  Another bolt of light hissed through the air, though this one was from behind us. The stench of fried flesh filled my nostrils. Mr. Foster’s mustache twitched. He stared down at his singed uniform and the smoking cavity in his chest. His mouth formed a perfect “O” as he toppled over.

  Hanging upside down from the trapdoor in the other room was Meriwether, of all people. He threw down his gun and made an ungraceful landing onto the conference room table.

  I rushed over. “How did you get in?”

  “I used my security code on the doors outside when I saw they were locked.” He took me by the shoulders and looked me over. “Are you quite all right? What happened? Why would Mr. Foster attempt to shoot you?”

  One of my sleeves was singed and a small cut bled on my knuckles, no doubt from the exploding computer. I let out a quaking breath.

  My subsiding fear gave way to suspicion. “Why are you here?”

  “I saw the ship and thought something must be wrong if you were landing it closer. I’ve learned how the Jomon value their secrecy. When I saw Nipa descending the cliff path without you, I began to fret even more. After getting in, I tried to enter the bridge but that was locked too. I grabbed a laser pistol from the captain’s room in case I had need of it. Then I saw the chair below the open hatch in the ceiling outside and put together something wasn’t right. I climbed in to investigate. When I heard the tail end of the conversation, I drew the laser pistol and took aim. But why would Mr. Foster do such a thing? Was he mad?”

  I threw my arms around him and kissed his cheek. Surely Meriwether wasn’t in on his father’s plot if he’d killed his father’s informant.

  “Oh, um, capital,” Meriwether said. His face flushed red and he cleared his throat. “Now you’ll have to tell me what all this is all about. Why was one of my father’s men about to kill you?”

  I swallowed, uncertain how Meriwether would take the news. “I attempted to send a message with some . . . sensitive material within. I was notifying the United Worlds that this planet was inhabited and explained some of the past events.”

  Meriwether adjusted his cravat. “That is very well and all, but I can hardly see how that warrants an attack on your person.”

  “Your father knows the planet is inhabited. I saw it in my . . . well, I have some of my memories back. The information in my report will not paint your father in the most flattering light.”

  Meriwether’s eyes widened. “Your memories! Capital! I know you’ve always hoped to retrieve them. Sumiko told me her brother would help you with that.”

  I laughed and shook my head. Perhaps Meriwether had been told more than I had.

  I took Meriwether’s hands in mine. “You must understand, what I have to say to the United Worlds will affect your father, his businesses and his fortune. I don’t know how it could tarnish you or your reputation.”

  He shook his head in dismay. “I need you to tell me the entirety of what you refer to.”

  “It would be so much easier to show you the recording that just got blown to pieces.” I threw up my hands in exasperation.

  “Oh?” Meriwether crossed over to the other side of the bridge, walking all the way around Mr. Foster’s prostrate form. He tapped at a few keys on the wall to bring up backup data. “These new-powered ships have virtual babbage cards to store data so that everything is saved in a cloud, so to speak. I’m sure it must be somewhere.” He sorted through lists of numbers that made little sense to me. How he knew which one to select baffled me. But then I had not been given leave to study the science of automatons and machinery as he had.

  Finally Meriwether found what he was looking for and played my recording. I tensed, uncertain how he would react. His cheery demeanor diminished when my recording told of the tragedies that had overtaken the Jomon world,
tragedies his father had played a key role in creating.

  When it was over, he closed his eyes. His breath was shallow and his pallor waxy and gray. “You must send it.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke.

  “I don’t want to—”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You must speak your truth.”

  I pressed send.

  He swallowed several times before he managed. “Is it all true? What you said . . . you are already married?”

  When I returned to the cliff palace, I found that Meriwether and Charbonneau had been caring for the ill child, the old woman who soon became ill, and Sumiko.

  I couldn’t help smiling when Meriwether took credit for bringing her back from the brink of death.

  Meriwether set up an easily accessible medical station in the great hall. Little old ladies sitting and weaving winked at him. “Chinny, chin-chin man. You have returned to tell us more stories?” they asked in Jomon.

  I translated the polite part of their sentence.

  He bowed his head, imitating their gestures and asked me to decline on his behalf. He showed Charbonneau and me how to administer vaccines using a needle spray. The specialty syringe detected the age and size of the patient, in order to administer the appropriate amount. Nipa sounded a gong outside, calling in his people.

  “We’ve got a long line of patients to get through,” Meriwether said. “We need to be organized and thorough if we’re going to prevent illness from spreading.”

  I laced an arm through his and patted his hand. “You truly are my hero.”

  “If only that were true.” His smile was sad and full of longing.

  “Would you two stop necking and get a move on,” Captain Ford said, tromping over. “I insist on being your first patient.” This was the second time I’d seen him sober. What he lacked in inebriation he made up for with his black mood.