City Without Suns (9 page)

Chapter 19

October 27, 2830

I have discovered Isla’s second clone is alive in the nursery.  She hasn’t made it to the Ward yet.  I could better protect her if I had accepted the offer.  Instead, in my stupidity, I likened our Commander to a primate.  I issued a stern warning to the nurses that nobody was to take that child except me.  I will take her to the Ward, soon.

In the meantime, I fear I will be hunted.  The patrols will make a sport of it.  Without me around, I shudder to think what will happen to Isla and Eon.  Perhaps there will be more studies, but the death sentence will stand, and next time, something more awful than the gas chamber will be used.

October 30, 2830

I was determined to get the baby to safety.  It is a strange feeling to fathom Isla’s clone, a copy of my best lifelong friend.  With one glance of her distinctive eyes, the identity of the baby could not be doubted.

When I entered the nursery, she was gone, and there were no attendants present.  I feared the worst and immediately bolted upward toward the gas chamber.  I was frustrated that the corridors were too narrow for flight, a situation I had known for over two decades, but on this occasion it was particularly infuriating that I could not extend my wings.  I ran hard with the blades of my wings tearing my shirt.

My intuition was confirmed when I arrived at the chamber.  My fellow patrols were holding a baby.

“Stop,” I yelled while approaching at full tilt.  I stopped to see that the identity of the baby was unmistakable.  The eyes of green looked up at me with an expression uncharacteristic of a newborn.  “Let me have her,” I said in desperation before thinking of how to contrive my excuse.

              “Salazar,” the first of two officers addressed me without the prefix of ‘Captain’ that was customary.  “We have to.  You know we have to.  Commander’s orders.”  He appeared to be sensitive to my anticipated objections.

              “New orders,” I said thinking on my feet while trying to catch my breath.  “The experiment needs to take place after the baby has matured.  The first one failed.  To repeat that would be senseless.  We already know the result.  I will take the responsibility.”

“Sorry, Captain,” spoke the second.  “The responsibility is on us to carry forward.”  The position that was no longer mine still seemed to exist in their minds, but it carried no weight.

A swift upward blow from my palm to his nose knocked him unconscious before he suspected I had aggressive intentions.  The first officer stood holding the baby knowing he could not run, knowing he could not apply the gas before I could intervene, and knowing for sure that he could not fight me.  He relented.  I was fully prepared to toss them both in the gas chamber, in which case I would receive two death sentences instead of the mere one that was certain after that stunt.

              I moved my face close enough to kiss the officer and let my breath warm his miserable face.  My nose touched his as I spoke a deadly threat, “If you follow me, I
will
kill you.”

I removed the gun from his belt and put it on mine, and I carefully removed Isla from his arms, the baby with no better name than I could think of in that moment.

The Ward was the only logical place to go.  I had no contacts, no relationships on which to rely.  My plan would be contrived when I got there.  Along the way, the baby fixated her eyes on me.  I held her close, and she extended a little hand to the sight of my left wing as if she recognized them.  Latent memories were a rumored trait of some of the clones, although it was never confirmed to my knowledge either on Gambler or back on Earth.  I met her eyes with mine.  She was unafraid and did not cry.

I climbed the first tube that I came to in the Ward section.  A young man was walking the halls.  At the sight of me, he stood his ground with an inquisitive look as if to ask how he could help.  He seemed like someone to whom I could relate.  I felt an instant connection with the young man.  He looked strong, perhaps some kind of leader among the population in the Ward and was certainly not one to be bullied.  Perhaps this notion was correlated with the fact that he was the first I encountered.

I started with a tone as genial as I could muster, “What’s your name?”

“Stavros,” he said.

“Listen closely Stavros, please.  I do not have much time.  I am Captain Salazar of the Commander’s police.  This baby was removed early from the nursery, but she cannot go back.  There was an attempt on her life.  I need you to take her to your caregivers, right now.”

He nodded his head and took the baby from me.  I paused for a moment to gauge that he had absorbed what I said.  He looked curiously at the baby and said, “I know these eyes.  My brother has eyes like this.”

I was very interested in learning more, but I knew I had to leave.  The young man, as if yearning for conversation, was urging me to stay and asking me questions, but I did not have time.  My taking of baby Isla would surely be viewed as a kidnapping in addition to a direct violation of orders along with assault on a fellow officer.  I might as well jump out of the ship myself before being thrown out.  Before that, however, I have returned to the original Isla to say goodbye.

              My only choices were to hide or fight.  There were plenty of places to hide, but only a limited number of places to get food and water.  I could ask Isla to cover for me and stow me away while she brings me supplies.  But that would put her at risk, and it would be too easy to find me.

Until I figure out what to do, I will return to the vacant room in the inner radius close to Mr. J.  It is a place where I am uncomfortable and have bad dreams.  If there is a God or a Devil, one of them is inside my head torturing me in my sleep.  I am tempted to pray for relief, but I do not know which of them to address.  I cannot rest easily there, but it is a temporary situation.

I might have to try to reason with Leonidas.  We go back a long way, and if he respects anybody, I know he respects me.  I have done nothing irrational.  Maybe I can find a way to convince him of this and offer my humble services once more, which I know he values. 

I can fake an agreement to retrieve the baby Isla when the time comes for another gas chamber experiment, but I would never go through with it or allow it as long as I am breathing.  My integrity has been torn in half.  If I die with any part of it intact, it will be to preserve my fellow Islander, the one who has never asked me for anything and given only friendship in return.

Part 4

The August Green Transcripts

Chapter 20

November 3, 2830

I have heard twice of the woman on the lower levels with eyes like mine.  The first time was when they introduced me to my brother and said that he didn’t inherit his mother’s eyes.  Wherever she was, I wondered if she thought of me and if she would spot me in a crowd.  I don’t know why I care.  We in the Ward have never known parents or any authoritative figure other than our teachers, yet something draws me to the thought of my biological mother.  I would like to find her.  It is a task I have seldom thought possible until recently during the final days before my release to permanent assignment. 

On the second occasion close to one Earth year ago, there were rumors of a pardon for a green-eyed woman and her son on the extermination list.  The rumor became a modern legend, and I drew hope that she was alive and someday I might meet her.  It shouldn’t be that difficult.  The ship was not designed to contain secluded sections, but during the reign of Leonidas the lower levels have been used as a sort of prison, a cage for the innocent who have been deemed unworthy of productive work.

Some of my teachers say we have been defined only by the shortsighted desires of an oppressive leader who neglects the long-term survival of our community in favor of his personal comfort. But that sentiment is not unanimous, and since he is the Commander, I aspire to meet him and work for him.

Recording these thoughts might meet severe punishment if discovered.  I trust my transcripts will not be found anytime soon, for they also would reveal that I devised a lie created to elevate my own status.  I initially wanted everyone to believe that I alone figured out how to resurrect the communications and logs.  To this end, I forged receptions and made them appear they had been received from our former home planet.  When this was discovered, people eager to resurrect their lost contact with home began to desperately access the transceivers.  I became hesitant and second-guessed what I had done.  When the supposed receptions stopped, I realized the extent of my mistake and the flaw in my thinking.  Those who accessed the transceivers were punished under the assumption that their tampering had reintroduced the blackout malfunction.

I initially intended to disclose my fake repair to a broad audience.  Now I hide my knowledge in the interest of my own preservation.  There would be no accolades for the person that performed repair allowing new transmissions after the certain discovery of my falsehood.  I would without question be charged with tampering in the first degree.  Instead I let everyone believe that my initial forgeries in the logs occurred as a natural anomaly with the receivers, an intermittent period of operation.  I now know that my attempt to create visibility and accolades for myself with Leonidas and his staff would have the opposite result.  I wanted them to think that the elegant simplicity of the ship systems, although susceptible to the fragility of human neglect, could be harnessed with a little work and a dose of my unique curiosity.  I am ashamed at what I have done and see no choice but to keep it secret and stay invisible to our Commander.

I have seen the man from a distance.  When I tried to get a closer look, I was urgently ushered away by one of my teachers as she held an arm around my head shielding my eyes.  At first I thought she was blocking my view, but I realized then that she was trying to avoid drawing attention and prevent him from seeing my distinctive eye color.

A blessing and curse, engineered back on the planet from where we came, my eyes cannot be mistaken as a random gene variation, which are rare as our DNA is synthesized and implanted.  I would have preferred a traditional eye color to accompany my ability to detect light outside the normal visible spectrum, but apparently an iris of fluorescent green that glows in dark rooms was a prerequisite.  I find it strange that among a community of genetic alterations that a person different from the others should be subjected to ostracism.  I guess nobody has figured out how to eliminate cruelty from the human brain.

Even my younger brother, diseased with potentially fatal bacteria assumed to be a benign and uncontagious artifact from our surrogate mother, makes fun of me in front of others.  There is little we have in common.  My bond with him is no greater than with any other in the Ward.  I do not know the origin of my feeling that brothers should have a strong relationship, but it is not a mutual sentiment.  He has a misplaced sense of power among the youth perhaps stemming from his unexplained strength, which he flaunts as if trying to assert control of surroundings that cannot be altered.  My unfounded admiration of him would not exist if I weren’t hanging on to some unspoken connection that I feel for him as my sibling, even though being a sibling has no meaning or significance in our society.  I cannot make a logical argument that I should care for him in any way outside of how we are taught to put the interests of our community colleagues ahead of our own.

He is training to be a mechanic, one of the more prestigious and coveted positions we have.  My training is in cognitive science, which includes computing machine operation and maintenance. That position does not receive any respect or admiration, which works to my advantage these days as I covertly monitor communications on the ship.  I can reveal in my notes here, but will not discuss outside that I was the one who cut the lights in my brother’s workshop.  Yes, I have some mild sense of satisfaction in walking right up to him undetected in the dark, slapping him as hard as I can in the back of the head, and exiting quietly while he is left to fume over which of his fellow trainees assaulted him.  Every time he attempts to belittle me in front of my friends, I give him a mild battering in the dark. My enhanced vision is unknown to them because it was not an intentional modification.  I have my mother, the curious lady in the lower sections, to thank for that ability.  I can conclude now that some of my genetic make-up must have been from her.

My schooling in the Ward is over in one week.  Even though the release cannot come soon enough for my liking, I have some reservations.  Today when I awoke and attended the mess hall, I reflected on my time.  There are six of us being assigned for duty this week out of nine hundred. We were sitting together at the table quietly for most of the meal.  The five others were atypically quiet like me. Out of the thousands of times we shared that table together, watching each other grow up, the time to part ways was upon us.  We weren’t really completely separating, but we would not be sharing that table together in the future.  These were my true brothers.  Realizing that the solace of that table with those five would vanish from my life brought a tear to my eye.  I raised a napkin to fake a sneeze and hide my feelings.  I could not have my friends, hardened by their own trials and tribulations, thinking that I was becoming soft.

I know we are well prepared.  At all waking hours for the last sixteen years, not counting the time I was learning the fundamentals of communication, math, and science, I studied and learned about the ship and our mission.  I specialized at age nine in the Gambler computing, networking, and storage systems.  That preparation brings me to this place and time, where in addition to performing my duties, I have gained the knowledge of all communications and surveillance available to my team.  There are others on my team that can surely do what I have learned.  I don’t think they know I was the one who attempted to fake a reactivation of the quantum transceivers, but I am certain they are keenly aware of the surveillance capabilities available to us within the confines of Gambler.  We don’t discuss it. 

After hours when I am alone, I collect some of the communications I see.  I have identified the woman who I believe is my biological mother as the one who calls herself Isla from the Bishop Islands on Earth.  She is the one with the eyes like mine, the same legendary person that survived the extermination. 

I believe she is in danger.  This is not a situation I can let rest.  I tell myself to be logical and not to get involved, but my instincts are to approach and protect her.  I’m not sure how it will be possible as Leonidas is the one threatening her safety.  I have intercepted his voice transcriptions as well and discovered his malevolence knows no bounds.  I think he is oblivious to this monitoring.

As I repent my earlier regrettable fraud, I am determined to do it in private, and I will not risk an attempt to contact Isla in writing.  The actions intended to stage a situation that would promote me to an interesting initial assignment provoked a sequence of revealing writings from Isla.  None was more peculiar than the discovery today of the following note.  This was put forward as a reception, just like my initial ones.  I could not believe what I was seeing until I traced it and discovered it came from a room in level seven.  I removed the trace.

Quantum Reception Earth date November 3, 2830

From: Dr. Chiara Bishop, Bishop Islands, Earth

To: Commander Leonidas Verga, Gambler Receiver

Leo,

I send greetings from your old home.  I trust you are taking care of the stowaways.  When Salazar decided to go with you, I did not consider it a loss.  We have others like him.  When Isla left me, it was a very sad day for Bishop Islands.  To this day, I have not been able to recreate the irregularity that led to her unique respiratory system. I wanted to have it available for the next launch.  The worlds we will eventually encounter will have less than perfect atmospheres.  By now I’m sure she has told you she cannot be cloned in a straightforward manner, and it may not be possible with the tools you have on Gambler. The night vision is easy to recreate, however, so you should ask her about that.

I would like to hear updates from you.  The communications with Gambler have been sparse.  I’m sure we could learn from each other. I believe you have experience that would be helpful for our imminent launch.

With Regards,

Chiara