Fifty-five
A transport sped between the Amikol and Bolphan.
Shesel and an armed security team rushed to the main docking bays to
receive it. A single occupant disembarked and stopped in the midst of a
small army of heavily armed security troops.
"Jeremy Kael," Shesel murmured in surprise.
"I'm being monitored," he said, his tone of voice
bordering on hysteria.
Shesel gestured for the boy to be taken to isolation
and reported to Basil Whalyk for instructions. "Don't try to block the
sensory implant," Basil ordered. "I'm more than willing to indulge anyone
who's curious about what's going on in Bolphan. Have the boy give us a
complete deposition of everything that has happened since his rendezvous
with Myla Rhodes. I'll have the council review the deposition. We'll
rule upon the matter immediately."
The Council of the eight surviving cities heard
Jeremy’s rambling, often incoherent and sometimes unbelievable recording
within the hour. Seated at his desk in his sealed chamber before an array
of the faces of old and fast allies, Basil put the problem in the simplest
terms possible. "There is discord between the Alliance and those in the
military dispatched to carry out our execution. How do we best exploit
it? Any action we take may be misconstrued. If we send Jeremy back, or
isolate the boy, it will be assumed that we are hiding something. I would
prefer that Jeremy be given full access to the city to show that we have
nothing at all to hide, but they will think our behavior and the
information we provide staged."
"The Alliance anticipates an encounter with Myla
Rhodes," one of the screens reminded him. “We can exploit her presence.
We must certainly confirm that she is present in Bolphan.”
Basil nodded agreement. “From the Alliance's point
of view, it is the third time the child has been resurrected from the
dead, once escaping Covonia during the route, twice having committed
herself to the void, and a third time when the Alliance showed her
vaporized before our very eyes. Myla's return from the void is evidence,
proof even, of intervention by an intelligence of unimaginable power.
Myla is convinced she was returned for a reason. Shall we trust that
simple intuition? Will the Alliance?”
Nobody objected to his reasoning. Nobody envied him
his authority over a doomed populace and his helplessness in the face of
overpowering enemy forces. "Then so be it," he said quietly. "I'll see
to the matter and keep you informed of developments on a moment to moment
basis."
Basil assigned Jeremy Kael personal quarters and paid
him a visit shortly thereafter. "I remember you," he said with a smile.
"You and an MI by the name of Japher were on skywatch the hour of the
arrival of the alien vessel. You were a part of the beginning of all that
has happened. Apparently, you will be a part of the conclusion, for
better or for worse. You have held up well, I see."
Jeremy Kael managed a feeble smile of greeting for
the Prime Executive of the Ruling Council.
"In your capacity as the eyes and ears of the Amikol,"
Basil said, "I have something I must show you. Remain here in your
quarters. I will have it sent to you. When it arrives, you may keep it
with you for as long as you wish. It will be a shock to you, but I don't
want to even attempt an explanation at this time. The situation will
speak for itself. If you need anything, if only to talk or to discuss a
problem, I will be personally available at any hour of the day."
Basil Whalyk retreated from the room and closed the
door behind him. Jeremy stood in the center of the room, confused by the
Executive's cryptic offering and at a loss for something to do with
himself. In time, he would be able to sleep. For now, it was all he
could do to keep his mind from dwelling on the horror of Myla's death. He
never expected things to turn out this way. None of it seemed real.
Superhuman forces had apparently sent Myla across an entire universe only
to be murdered by her own kind.
In time, Jeremy sat down and waited for Basil’s
promise to manifest itself. All too soon, a noise sounded at the door.
He glanced up listlessly and in complete disinterest at whatever thing the
Executive had to show him, and through him, the Alliance.
The door opened. A small figure stood silhouetted
against the brighter light in the corridor and his heart began to hammer
uncontrollably. At first he thought that it was little Myla, but Myla was
dead. The faint spark of elation died the instant it was born.
But it was a girl nevertheless, and she stepped
inside the room and closed the door behind her.
Jeremy scrambled back in growing perplexity. It
looked like Myla. It wore the same kind of white gown she had worn at
bedtime when they had slept together as children.
Jeremy kept his eyes focused on her trembling hands,
and her bare feet, because as she drew closer, he could smell her body and
her hair. Myla had never smelled so human. She had never been human,
although neither of them had known. This child, however, was human, and
she was lost and frightened. Why had Basil sent her here?
He glanced into her face to see who she was.
Crystal blue eyes and a disheveled head of platinum hair paralyzed him. He dared not
move or contemplate the impossible. He had seen her die. There had never
been more than one of her. He did not understand what was happening.
Jeremy sidestepped to the communications console on
the wall. He called Basil Whalyk. "Who is she?" he said in a voice
quavering with incipient panic.
"She is a biological clone Executor General Gorlon
Hague ordered made to divert Alliance suspicion of Myla's true nature.
Myla had a DNA pattern on record. I do not know its origin. I do not
know who she was originally, certainly nobody who has ever lived in the
colony."
"Oh." Jeremy took a moment to adjust to the
explanation. Clones were nothing knew. Nat medical laboratories were
capable of growing spare body parts in accelerated clone banks. Entire
clones were illegal and of little practical use to anyone anyhow. "How
old is she?" he asked.
"Just a few standard days."
"Then she's hardly more than an animal," Jeremy said
in growing agitation. "Why did you send her to me? What am I supposed to
do with her?"
"You will find out soon enough."
Basil Whalyk cut him off. Jeremy stepped away from
the darkened screen. He sat on the edge of his bed, unable to tear his
eyes from her face. She was staring at him. Step by slow, shuffling
step, she grew nearer to him.
"Stay away."
He could not expect her to
understand or to obey. It was amazing enough that she had any
muscular coordination at all. At an age of a few standard days, she
had far less than the mind of a newborn.
Then why this behavior? Why the mystery that Basil
had been unable or unwilling to spell out for him?
He shot to his feet and sidestepped the approaching
girl, knowing now that something profound was involved. She turned
smoothly to face him and paused. She crossed her arms against her breasts
and sighed as if in frustration.
Jeremy's legs were wobbling. He held very still.
She approached so close that he could feel the breeze being stirred by her
breathing.
She reached out and touched his hand. Jeremy burst
into tears at this point, grieving her loss, and grieving as well for this
unreal child who had no past and no possible future of her own. He
lowered his head and sobbed shamelessly as he had too often since the
nightmare began. It didn't matter to him who on the Amikol saw and heard.
She touched him. She ran one hand up his arm. The
other gripped his clenched fist. She pressed herself against him and lay
her head on his shoulder. She put a knee on the bed behind him, pushed
him back upon it, and crawled into his arms.
The move was so familiar to him, he did not question
it. It had always been Myla's way of seeking affection and assurance when
they were alone together all of those innocent years ago. They embraced
one another as they had then. They fit together like a hand and its
glove.
Jeremy stared at the ceiling in the dim light, his
mind a void empty of expectation. The living, breathing body in his arms
was Myla as she had never existed, a flesh and blood girl. The only Myla
who had ever lived had died before his very eyes. He had no explanation
for the existence of this creature.
Her hand found the chain around his neck entirely by
accident. Her fingers brushed against it. She lifted it to the light
with two fingers, and her body went rigid with tension.
She cried out in surprise and reared back, her face
alive with joy and the brilliance of her surprise filling his field of
vision. She studied the coin, turning it about in her trembling fingers,
her eyes darting from his face to the artifact and back again.
"I thought I had lost it." She clutched at his
clothing with her free hand. "Jeremy, he died. Khalin said my real name
and he died.”
Jeremy did not panic at all. Too much had happened
to begin to question the workings of reality now. He removed the necklace
from around his neck and draped it over hers where it belonged. He put
the coin in her fluttering hands, squeezed them closed, and embraced her
fiercely.
He gazed up at the ceiling again, fully alert now,
and perfectly calm. The moment didn't need an explanation. It had no
need of a past or a future. If they died in this moment, it would
not matter. It was all he had ever wanted of life.
