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Posts Tagged ‘Kate Runnels’

Published by Associate Editor on September 8, 2016. This item is listed in Issue 31, Short Stories, Issue 31 Stories

Torque’s Jump

airshipby Kate Runnels

Torque gazed down at the clouds scudding past below in a breeze she couldn’t feel, as she idly swung her feet. Sitting at the very edge of the rusting metal support beam she could imagine she was somewhere else. The beam was one of many that needed repair all over the city, but weren’t absolutely necessary. But it was one that helped hold up the roof of her father’s Mechanic shop.

The constant thrum of the engines that held the air city of New Perth in the sky droned on in the background as she fiddled with her mechanical right arm. The tiny gears and joints sometimes clogged with dust and she liked to keep it clean and running smoothly. The small screwdriver tightened one last screw and she slipped it into a side pocket as she flexed her right arm, watching the interplay of gears, pulleys and fluid.

Her chores finished and no airship in for repairs, she stayed out of sight of the bastard of a new man her mother called husband, Malvin. A drunk who relied on Torques skill so he could stay drunk, with the pretense of running the shop. Her father’s shop. Her shop.

The same accident that had taken her arm had taken her father. Everyone in New Perth had lost someone they cared about that day.

The steel vibrated under her and she turned to see Sark, Malvin’s oldest son. Two years older than she and already apprenticed to their neighbor, a smith who made most of the parts they used to keep the airships running. Except those tiny gears she made herself.

Sark didn’t need to flex to show his muscles. They were there from years of working in the smithy. He grinned at her. “Hey, if it isn’t Torque the dork. What are you doing out here? I’m sure father will love to know you’re shirking your work.”

“If Malvin’s not too sloshed he might remember, pea brain.”

“What was that?” he demanded, stepping one foot out onto the beam. He kept hold of the hull wall, as there wasn’t much below but other jutting beams, the starboard engine housing, and the clouds.

She had been sitting, but a change of pitch in the background rumble caused her to stand, easily balanced on the 10 inch wide beam.

“What—”

She held up a hand and Sark fell silent. She cocked her head slightly to one side to bring one ear upward. He opened his mouth again and then stopped, he’d heard it too. Another airship! No! There was more than one.

Torque glanced up in time to see a sleek fast moving airship streak from above the bulk of the city and then it was past and diving down into the clouds not far below.

Seconds later, it was followed by a ship that made the first look like a rusted old tug boat. The sleekness and pristine condition hid its size, until it kept coming and coming on. Only then as it fully emerged did the colors and the sigil penetrate into her astonished mind.

“A Royalty Air Cruiser,” she breathed. She’d only seen one once before in that blue and red, and that was a medical boat after the Blast. It continued its flight, following the airship down into the clouds, but before it disappeared she saw the bow fire a barrage, the report cruising over her moments later.

Then it too vanished into the clouds. What was it doing here?

Lost in wonder, she’d forgotten about Sark. He’d gained his nerve at her inattention. The beam shook slightly and she glanced back to see him in time as he pulled back a meaty fist for a punch, and the wicked gleam in his eyes.

She stepped back off the end of the beam to avoid the strike, which would more than likely have sent her over anyway. Torque dropped, her right arm catching the lip of the beam and she smiled as Sark, off balance, windmilled to keep himself from falling. Torque only used the beam to slow herself and change trajectory. Swinging in toward the hull, she released her grip.

Torque landed lightly on another beam that was part of the floor below their own. She gripped a rusting hole in the hull, as the floor she stood on was barely wide enough for her feet. She didn’t stay there long though, but ran the length of it and when it abruptly ended, Torque trusted her knowledge and leaped off into the gaping hole that was a legacy of the Blast. She knew she disappeared from Sark’s astonished sight, as barely any light penetrated the shattered part of engineering. In another moment she landed, rolled to shed momentum and stopped with a bang as her right arm hit the inner wall. This was a section of engineering that remained after the Blast.

Hearing the noise, a door opened off to her left, spilling out warm welcoming light into the dark, and a grizzled head peaked out the door. Old Grif. He smiled when his eyes lit on her and she scrambled to her feet. It was a gap-toothed smile but genuine for all that, and not evil like Sark, or his dad, Malvin’s.

“Torque, you little rascal, are you running from Malvin again? Or is it your step-brother this time?”

She nodded indicating his guess was correct. “Yeah, It was Sark.” She waved that away, eyes alight from the memory. “More than that, Grif, did you see it? It flew by moments ago.”

“See what, young lady?” he motioned her into the Engineering Control Room and dogged the hatch shut behind her. “I’ve been working on the number two turbine again.”

“A pirate ship, with a Royalty Cruiser on its back end. They flew right over the top of the city, close too, and then they both dove into the cloud cover.”

“A pirate ship? There may be pirates, Torque, but far from here.”

“But, it was being chased by a Royalty Cruiser!” she insisted.

Grif scratched at his scraggly spiky grey hair. “Haven’t seen one of them since right after the accident.” He eyed her, asking, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am, Grif. It was all fresh bright colors of blue and red, with the Royalty symbol painted on the hull. And the metal shone, so bright, so silver and new—not like this.” She knocked her right cybernetic hand against the inside wall, and got a dull thud in response. “God, I’d love to work on one of those.”

Sighing, she sat down in the chair across the table from Grif.

“Now, Torque, you know how difficult it is to get to the academy. No one from New Perth City has ever gone. It mainly goes to the Islanders, tramping about on dirt—”

“Buddists—” she almost cursed it.

“Now don’t, girl. They were there before, their ancestors travelled and eked out a living in the Himalayas, in the time before the great flood. It’s only happenstance, and I’d rather be living here, in this part of the world than in the Rocks.”

“I know all that, Grif.” She sighed again. “I just feel as if I’m going to be stuck here forever.”

“Stick it out. Your garage is needed for our mail carriers and the other airships in this area. And two more years, you can become my apprentice, move down here and away from some of your troubles.”

“If I do that Grif, what will then happen to my father’s garage? It’s all I have left of him. Mom’s not the same since his death. She only married Malvin out of convenience, not love. We needed the money to buy food and parts for the shop.”

Torque found herself pacing and made herself stop. Her right arm wasn’t the only thing that had been replaced. Everyone, and the city, owed so much debt to the Royalty. It would be at least five more years of work in the shop before her mom, Torque, and her hated step-father were out of debt. Five years. She’d be nineteen then and it seemed so far away, intangible as the clouds New Perth drifted through at times.

“I can’t leave mom in debt.”

“She’s not your responsibility, Torque.” His voice softened. “Think on it. You have two years to decide, my young lady. I’ll always be here for you, slaving away in the bowels of the ship.”

She punched him lightly on the arm. “I do half your work already, you old scoundrel. You’d sleep the days away if I came to work for you.”

He laughed with her. “Let’s head up to the Commons for a bite to eat,” and added when he saw her face close up, “my treat.”

“You’re on, Grif, but not the Commons, the open air market. They have better food.”

“And a view of the docks, if that Royalty Cruiser is indeed around. You can’t fool me,” he said, guiding her toward the lift. “You want to see that ship.”

They exited the lift to the open air market, with the docks to the right, a wall to the front and the city offices behind them. Located at the top of the city, it boasted some of the few trees, and they were used to screen the market from winds. The market was packed with stalls and shops, travelling merchants and local food vendors. The fishermen were in, having descended earlier in the day to haul in their nets. A crowd had gathered near their docks to gawk and stare at a giant fifteen foot shark which they’d hauled in. Shark meat was good, but expensive. Not as rare or precious as beef, but still good.

“The gypsy section has some goat meat I can smell. Maybe some chicken, but eggs are too precious to waste a chicken for a meal,” Torque said.

“Fish and chips?” Grif asked.

“Fish and chips, it is then.”

After getting their food, they wandered near the docks and found a spot near the edge to sit down. No Royalty Cruiser in sight. But there was a large merchant vessel preparing for departure. Torque never tired of the sight of the airships coming and going. Even the little dories the fishermen used to fish with. They had their own elegance in their simplicity.

The sun slowly sank, below the clouds, leaving them bathed in a brilliant red-gold, and the city darkened in the twilight. It took a long time for the sun to completely disappear with the city high up in the sky. It would lower come the morning allowing easier access to the sea for the fishermen in their little dories, but for now it soared high up with the clouds.

“All right, young lady, you should head home now. I’m up early to check the Port side engine coupling with a comptech and a Tesla man. It’s dropped efficiency and only they can go into places I can’t. Trade secrets and all.” Grif shrugged. “I just keep the old city running.”

Torque gave him a hug. “Thank you Grif.”

They parted and she threaded her way through the thinning crowd back to her father’s mechanic shop near the docks but below the open air market. Her home, the only home she’d ever known was behind the shop itself. It just didn’t feel like home anymore.

As the door closed behind her, she saw her step-father glaring at her. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I hear from Sark you were off sightseeing instead of working.”

She glared right back at the burly drunk of her step-father. “All the work was done, Malvin. You would know that if you ever stepped one foot into the garage.”

“Now listen, girly,” he stepped forward. She clenched her teeth and readied herself.

“Stop Malvin.” Her mother clutched at his raised arm.

“No.” He spun on her. “Your girl needs to learn manners and show some respect.”

Torque raised her right arm, the metal shining in the lamp light. Malvin was one of the few who hadn’t needed any repairing or fixing. He’d come to the city after the accident. His black eyes narrowed at the sight of her right fist.

“Now how would Sark even know if I wasn’t working, Malvin, unless he was shirking his work at the smithy? And I know they had jobs ‘cause we still haven’t got those gears to fit into the number two tug boat for the city!”

He paused and his anger stilled; he wouldn’t attack now.

“Get to your room, girly. I expect to see you in the shop in the morning.”

Not pushing the issue, Torque hugged her mom goodnight and went to her room. She wouldn’t see Malvin in the morning, he would already have started on the alcohol. She closed her bedroom door and flopped onto her bed, but sleep was a long time coming for her that night. She kept thinking about pirate ships, far off lands and the bright shiny Royalty Air Cruiser.

* * *

Up early, Torque snuck out of the house listening to Malvin’s drunken snores. Quickly grabbing bread and goat cheese, she opened the door into the garage and breathed in the familiar comforting smells. This was her home, not where she’d just left.

Around midmorning a pounding sounded from the main shop hatch. She was under a partial support frame that needed rewiring, new gears and all. From the house Malvin yelled, “Curse you girly, get that!” as the pounding started anew.

Rolling out from under the frame, she got to the door as Malvin roared again, “Girly!”

Throwing the hatch lock, she pulled it open and her eyes widened in shock at the sight presented to her. A royalty officer in his uniform of bright blue greeted with red trim, flanked by two guards, one in black and the other wore a lighter blue of a different cut.

“Yes sir?” she asked.

“Is your master about?” the officer asked coolly but politely.

“I’m not an apprentice yet sir, but this was my father’s shop before his death. What can I help you with?”

The officer glanced behind him to the other in the lighter blue uniform. And he asked, “Do you know what a Maple leaf gear is?’

“Of course, but do you want a size 17 engine leaf gear or the 28 for small parts? There’s also the oak leaf off shoot style, that’s transferable but might not be compatible or as strong.” Torque shrugged, “It just depends on what you are using it for.”

The door from the house into the garage slammed behind her. She watched the officer converse quietly with the man who’d asked her the question.

“Well, girly, who was banging at the hatch?” he pulled the hatch from her and swung it all the way open so he could see. And stopped. “I–“ he stopped again.

The officer glanced at Malvin. “We require parts and labor to fix our cruiser as quickly as possible.”

Malvin finally shut his mouth and moved back, gesturing them in. “Of course, my lord. Whatever the Royalty needs.”

The officer stepped past looking away as if he’d caught a bad smell, but was too polite to comment. “As I said, we require parts and labor.”

“Do you have a list of what you need?” asked Torque. Malvin glared at her for speaking out of turn, and to the Royalty on top of it. The officer ignored Malvin and waved at the other in light blue who stepped forward. The black uniform stayed outside, and he was the only one armed, with sword and projectile guns, a pistol and a rifle. The light blue uniformed man produced a list. He had blue eyes and darker skin and a nice smile as he handed it over. He was not as scary as the guard in black. His eyebrows raised as she took the list with her cybernetic right arm. Torque noticed the officer noticed her arm too, by then though, she was engrossed in the list.

“We have a lot of this in the shop, but not the piston and cylinder 330 or the housing assembly for the gear thrusts, we’d have to order those made from the smithy.”

She glanced up. The officer thawed slightly then, “What is it?”

“Did you capture the other ship, sir, or sink it?”

“Torque!” her step-father spat her name thinking she had gone too far. The officer waved him off.

“How do you know there was another ship?”

“Both of you flew right over the top of the city, sir.”

He nodded. “We captured her. Why?”

“I only caught a glimpse as it passed, but hearing the engine go by it matched yours in pitch and tone. If it’s not too battle damaged, most of the parts you need can be transferred over. That would be quicker.”

“Good.” He nodded decisively again and turned to Malvin. “We will be hiring your apprentice away from you for the duration and we will buy any parts needed as can’t be found in the other ship.”

The blue eyed man motioned her over. “The XO, Major Ward, will settle on a price for your services. We need to get to work.”

“We?”

“Engineer Second Class Kidd. Call me Kaz.” When she looked at him weird he elaborated. “It’s short for Kazuto. Kaz is easier.”

“Second Class? Did you lose your Chief?”

His lips pursed together into a thin line. “Never mind. I’m sorry. It must have been a fierce battle with all the parts you need. If you need more help, the City Engineer, Grif, is quite capable.”

Kaz nodded. “He’s the one who sent us here.”

Torque smiled. “I’ll just get what we’ll need ready here. If you have an airlift it will go a lot faster.”

Now it was Kaz who smiled.

Torque arrived at the docks with her parts and stopped to stare at the cruiser. “Torque, stop gawking and let’s get started!” yelled Grif. She ran over to where he stood next to the port side hatch and gangplank attached to the docks.

“All right.” She returned his smile. “This is going to be fun!”

“We need the coupler that attaches here!” she yelled up from below the decking in the motor that helped power the lighting systems.

Her head poked out of the hole and soon she snaked the rest of her body all the way out. “We can’t continue without it.” She shook her head at Kaz.

Grif nodded when the royalty engineering crew looked over at the older engineer, shrugged and said, “She’s right.”

“All right, I’ll send Won over to get it.”

“No, I’ll go.” Torque jumped to her feet. “I know exactly where it is and I have the tools to get it out. And there are some things I want to check out that could be converted over, like their boost systems. It ties in with the Tesla components, I’m sure of it. I want to see how it’s installed.”

She was off before they could say anything otherwise. Her laugh filled the stoic corridors of the cruiser and she ran with abandon down the docking ramp as crew members and officers dodged out of her way. Some shaking their heads, others smiling at her youth and enthusiasm.

Torque crossed the docks and waved at several people who she knew, but hustled on. She paused briefly to look back at the Royalty Cruiser Osprey before she entered the pirate ship. They were so different once she entered the hatch. The cruiser was spick and span and bright and fresh steel and new parts, where the pirate ship was rusting in places and grimy with age. For all that, it had the same ordered quality, tools put away, everything in the correct place, and the engine room–it matched the larger cruiser in power and had the boost converter, weapons implements and was not lacking where power and force were concerned. The engine was almost as new as the cruisers and nearly as bright and clean with new steel. It was amazing.

Then she noticed the dories heading out in the morning light to do the fishing for the city for that day. The city had lowered during the night to make it easier for the fishers, and around midday when they came back, the city would rise again to stay out of the storms and the winds lower down.

Torque hadn’t realized the night had passed, so deep into her work she and Grif had been. Watching the last of the skiff’s gently float down to the ocean, she then turned into the pirate ship’s hatch to search for the parts she needed.

Her right arm, deep into the bowels of the engine, gripped what she needed; a small pipe with the correct valve fitting, size and angle. She just couldn’t get it free and out. Torque’s nose was pressed up against a gear and all she smelled was oil, metal as she breathed, and struggled to get the part out.

Then everything shifted.

The part came loose, but so did the one above and it clanked down on her arm. “Uh oh.” Carefully twisting first one way, she kept hold of her pipe, and then twisted the other as she struggled to free herself now. Forehead now pressed to the gear, she tried not to panic, the upper part shifted and then she was free and she flopped onto her back.

Torque lay on the deck a minute, staring up at the ceiling, at the different kind of lights the pirates had adapted onto their ship and the loose wiring connecting them. Most people didn’t look up, so it made sense not to have those covered, she thought, and probably made for easier access to certain parts of the ship. It was easier to think about that than how close to a huge mistake she’d almost made, and the small one that had occurred. After the minute to calm herself, she finally sat up and glanced along her right arm, with the needed pipe still clutched in her arm.

“Oh, crap.” Opening her hand carefully, slowly, the fingers released their hold of the pipe. She let it fall to the deck not caring if it rolled out of sight. She quickly grabbed with her left hand for her ever present tool. One of the tiny gears, about the size of her pinky nail, that helped work the intricate movements of her fingers, was cracked.

Unscrewing, and then lifting off the outer layer of metal, she could now see the entire gear, and how the teeth no longer lined up with the next and the crack ran down two thirds of it. It wouldn’t stood up to heavy or prolonged use. It might not even continue to work for the next several minutes.

Torque stood and glanced around the engine room. “Where am I going to find a gear piece that tiny and delicate here?”

There were the huge gears and hammers, wrenches and pipes. The one she scooped up now, was among the smallest aboard an airship. The pistons blocked her view forward, and the exhaust toward the aft. Then it came to her.

She left the engine room looking for the crew quarters.

Torque only glanced into some. They were not where she’d expect to find an extra piece to go to a cybernetic arm. And some reminded her too much of her step father. Drunk, with pictures of naked women about; other rooms were clean, but didn’t hold much of value.

Then she stepped into the Captain’s cabin. Larger than all the others and just off the bridge. She’d try the bridge next. The walked up to the desk, her eyes scanning for even something the right size. Pulling out drawers, she almost missed it, as it was lodged up against the side wall of one.

It was the correct size, but there were small holes throughout the gear even onto some of the teeth. Staring at it, she wondered if it would hold up, but she didn’t see any rust or corrosion. Deftly, she worked the broken piece out and the new one in place. Picking up the pipe that had caused all this trouble, Torque headed out of the pirate ship and back to the shiny Royalty Cruiser. The battle had caused a lot of damage, and even if Grif and the others worked around the clock, it would still take another two days.

She smiled. This had been the most fun for her, plus it kept her away from Sark and Malvin, her step father. She’d be sad when she finally fixed the ship up and it left.

“There you are Torque,” said Grif as she walked back into the engine room. “What took you so long?”

“Had a problem with my arm that I had to fix. But I got the coupler and the small pipe for the–“

“Right.” He nodded, and back to work they went.

A day later saw her heading from the secondary power room toward the mess. She was in unfamiliar areas. She’d already worked through the midday meal and Torque needed something before heading back to the engine room.

A door opened, she guessed, hearing her approach. “Here now, what are you doing here?”

Torque paused. “Heading to the mess.” The man wasn’t in uniform, in fact he had a slash in his pants leg near the knee, and his hair was longer, not the neatly trimmed look that she seen on all the others. He looked…rugged, she thought.

“But what brings you here?” he asked looking around the ship.

“My friend and I are affecting repairs caused by the battle with the pirate ship.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You?”

She didn’t like his questioning tone, nor how he slouched against the hatchway frame, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes.”

He smiled, amused it seemed by her curt answer and his next words lost some of their arrogance. “What’s your name?”

“Torque.”

“What kind of name is Torque?” asked another, younger man she could barely glimpse inside the room. The man in the hatchway ignored him.

“I’m Makoto, Torque, it’s nice to meet you.” He was about to continue when a voice down the corridor interrupted.

“You there! Back inside!”

Makoto held up his hands in surrender, then backed slowly inside, all the while grinning as the hatch shut, giving her a wink before it closed completely. Kaz came quickly up to her. “What are you doing here Torque? You shouldn’t be here, and you shouldn’t be talking to them.”

“I got lost heading to the mess from the secondary power room. Who was that?” she asked.

“No one. I’ll guide you, but hold on one sec,” he went up to the ship’s intercom system. “Bridge, engineer Second Class Kidd. I’m in Corridor Bravo 8. There is no sign of Apprentice Trooper Xiu. Can you send security down? I”ll stay until they arrive.”

“Security Chief Masterson will be there shortly with a squad, Bridge out.”

He turned and faced Torque. “Go to the first intersection, turn right, go up the stairs, past two intersections and it’s the door on the left. I have to stay here, but I’ll see you back in engineering shortly.”

Torque nodded and left without asking any of the questions she wanted. There was something going on. Something about those people in the room and the missing Apprentice that had Second Engineer Kidd worried.

Grif was still in the mess finishing up his own midday meal. When she finished telling him what happened he glared at her and then leaned over the table to give her a gentle whack upside the head. “You dolt!”

“What?”

“Those were the prisoners from the private ship. I doubt they have a brig large enough to hold them all, so they converted quarters or storage rooms.”

“Oh.”

“You can be daft sometimes.” He grinned at her to take the sting out of his words. He really did care for her. “Well, eat up, Torque. Then we are back to work.” He ran a hand through his salt and pepper spiky hair.

Not long after, with grease up to their elbows, and fixing up one of the last steam pipes before reconnecting the valves to the power core, Sark came into engineering carrying a load of new gears and bolts from the smithy.

He dropped them on the deck at her feet. The clang reverberated down the corridors and along the connecting decking. “Nice, Klutz,” Torque said. “If anything has broken, any teeth on the gears, the Royalty Fleet won’t pay for a new one, you will. What were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking, that I’m working double duty at the smithy and for father, while you’re living it up on a Royalty Cruiser.”

She was shocked for only a moment and then thrust her hands in front of his face. “You think this is living it up? I’m doing my job, Sark, I haven’t slept but six hours in three days. So sorry, you and Malvin actually have to work for once. It’s not like I’m eating steak and sleeping on goose down bedding.” She bent over to pick up the bag with her right hand, lifting it as easily as he had. “Anyway, we’re almost done. Just need to install what you’ve brought, unless you broke them.”

She set the bag on the counter and looked at what Sark had brought. “You forgot the connecting pin.”

“I’m not going to get it.”

“Whatever Sark. You can’t stay aboard in any event.”

She walked out with him and passed empty corridors and then a bunch of sailors running inboard. Sark and Torque flattened themselves against the bulkhead as they passed. “What was that about?” Her step-brother asked.

Torque shook her head, wondering also.

She continued a little behind Sark at a slower pace. She saw the sailors grab him a second before they grabbed her, hands over her mouth and one of her arms twisted behind her back, just enough to hurt. Eyes wide, she watched at Sark struggled and they knocked him over the head, knocking him out. One of the sailors threw him over his shoulder and they were then hurried along the corridor.

Torque didn’t resist, but the pace was frantic and hurried. Then she caught sight of a face she’d seen earlier. The one she had spoken to in the corridor. These weren’t royalty sailors or soldiers, but the pirates. He’d said his name was Makoto.

The voices were hushed, but huddled in amongst them, she heard them clearly.

“There has to be a way off this ship.”

“The main hatch.”

“Too many witnesses and soldiers to go through,” said the one she’d spoken to. “We want minimal casualties.”

The other men grunted and then he turned to her. “Do you know a way off the ship that won’t be seen?”

Where was Grif? Where was anyone she knew? Her eyes slid around to the others. There was no blood on the cloths, but they all looked like hard men and women. Her eyes came back to the first man.

“Do you or don’t you know, Torque?”

He’d remembered her name. Torque nodded slowly.

“Then you and I will lead.” He showed her the knife in his hand before the hand released her mouth. She stayed quiet. “Good.” He took hold of her arm as the other released her. She took them through the first hatch, back toward engineering. They continued down, below the main engineering past the pistons and connectors, past the pipes and coolant valves, to where they had to duck and twist to get through. To a final hatch which she opened. It was the outside propulsion engines. The wind whipped her hair around as she stepped onto the gantry. She could see the lower levels of New Perth City past the back part of the ship. And connecting the two were the giant tethers holding the Royalty ship to the city.

The giant rope didn’t sway or swing in the wind, but they dipped low enough to be near the wrecked open part of the city where Torque knew. And knew no one else dared go.

“There!” She had to yell as the wind gathered her voice and tried to take it from listening ears.

“No way!” Yelled one of the pirates just inside the hatchway.

“We can’t lug this one over there!” Yelled another.

She faced the first man, who seemed to be their leader. “So leave him,” she said with a shrug. “Or drop him, maybe?”

He smiled, flashing white perfect teeth. “There’s plenty of rope. Tie him off, and yourselves as well. Don’t want a gust taking you to the great blue hundreds of feet below.”

Torque started to walk forward, but his iron grasp held her back. “You got guts, girl. But I don’t want to lose you.”

“Like you really care?”

He laughed and engaging laugh and she couldn’t help but smile.

She started forward again. “Wait for the rope!”

“I don’t need it!”

His grip loosened on her arm and she ran onto the five foot thick tether, easily adjusting to the constant wind. She raced along and as she neared the city the rope surged upward, but she knew parts of the broken city were near. She showed them where to go as she leaped off.

She didn’t have far to fall. Landing with a clang barely six feet down and four feet out, the decking was solid. The clang beside her startled her. She whirled and saw the pirate captain beside her.

“Damn, you got guts!”

She smiled. The rest of the crew, she noticed it wasn’t the entire crew, only about ten of them followed on the rope. “What about the rest of your crew?”

Makoto shrugged. “They are better off with the Royalty, even as prisoners.” One by one he helped them make it down off the tether and into the area where Torque had led them, until they faced the two of them.

“We need someplace to wait for awhile while they search the city.” He glanced around and the jagged holes, the broken deck, the empty levels. “This should do nicely. I doubt anyone comes down here.”

He grabbed her by the arm again. Not roughly and not showing the knife this time. “Lead on.”

There were cracked bulkheads, broken decking, but the hall she led them in was fairly solid. She took them lower, farther toward the blast sight, when he stopped them in a large open area, with light filtering down through cracks. Torque knew this place; the old community theater.

She sat in an old seat as they crew wandered around, some gathering items, some picking through junk, and one dropping the unconscious body of Sark at her feet. She didn’t care. She was warm, fairly safe. She doubted they were going to hurt her, and it had been a long time since she had slept. She closed her eyes.

She woke to crackling flames of a fire up on the old stage. Sark had awoke at some point as he was no longer near her feet, but bound and gagged near the fire as the pirates toyed with him. Pushing him down until he struggled back to his knees or feet as they laughed throughout.

Makoto, several inches taller than her with a slim but muscular build—she remembered his iron grip—sat down next to her. He nodded to Sark. “Will he continue to do that?”

“He’s stubborn. Won’t back down.”

“How do you know him?”

He mouth twisted. “He’s my step-brother.”

“Who you don’t like.”

She shrugged, wondering why she talked to him. “No. I don’t like him, or his dad.”

“He can never replace your dad. I know. When did you lose him?”

“The accident.”

“When this occurred?” He asked, pointing around the area.

“Yes.” Maybe she talked to him because it had been so long since she had talked to anyone but Grif. “You can’t stay here long, you know?”

“I know.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“Get my ship back.”

His voice went cold, hard as the steel in her arm.

“Uhmm.”

The firelight glinted off his eyes as he looked at her. “What is it?”

“We had to take some of the parts from your ship to fix the cruiser.” The bluntness surprised her. Why had she told him? But he hadn’t harmed anyone, besides Sark, and knocking him on the head hadn’t hurt him.

“Will you help us, then?”

“Why should I help pirates?”

“Is that what they told you?”

Laughter from the circle around the fire drew his eyes away from hers. She looked then as Sark lay on his back. “No,” he continued softly, “we are not pirates. We are trouble makers though. And we are fighters. Consider us more like privateers, or mercenaries.”

“Then who hired you?”

“That, Torque, you don’t need to know. Only that we represent those fighting the Royalty.”

He stood then and left her to her own thoughts. Who was fighting the Royalty?

* * *

She did help them. And snuck back into the ship the way they had escaped. She knew the parts they needed, but it took two days. And always glares from Sark toward his captors, but none at her. Maybe he thought she helped them because they threatened to hurt him. She let him continue to believe that. Bringing food and water for them as well.

But two days was a long time, and they had to move to stay ahead of the search parties.

“We have everything we need,” said one of the female pirates. “I know it’s late, but let’s get going?”

“I’m with Mel, the sooner we are out of here the better.”

Makoto stood with the others, while Torque stayed on the outside, but within hearing distance.

“It’s not like getting to the ship that’s the problem. We tether in like we did getting out,”
Said Mel.

He glanced around the assembled group. “If everyone is agreed?” They all nodded. “Then we’ll leave tonight.”

“What about her?” Mel asked.

“I’ll handle that.”

Within moments the group dispersed. They picked up Sark and slung him over the big ones shoulders again. They put out the fire, gathered what gear they had and followed Torque and Makoto.

They were near the anchor point to their ship when they heard it; sounds of encroaching boots, lots of boots. They had stumbled into an oncoming patrol. Torque hurried them on. And they could feel the night wind and hear the creaking of the tether to the city.

The big guy set Sark down, and in the second as everyone glanced away and looked toward the tether, he was up and running with Torque and several others chasing after him. He was yelling, as were the others.

“Help me. Help. They are over here. Hey!” Sark yelling from ahead with a good head start and opening up his lead.

“Get on the ship, now!” Makoto bellowed to his crew.

“Stop right there!” Mel shouted at Sark as she lost distance on him.

Torque stopped then, seeing the approaching lights and Sark continued to yell. “No more hiding now,” she murmured.

“Mel, get on the ship!” Makoto yelled.

The pirate spun and raced back to the others and the tether and the safety of her ship. Torque watched her go. The voice of Sark yelling had faded some, but the lights grew brighter. They would be here soon.

She glanced back at Makoto. He stared at her as Mel reached the tether and started her way across. He was the last, still looking at her.

She glanced the other way to the oncoming soldiers of the royalty and the lights brightening the way. Then back at Makoto standing the darkness, a figure silhouetted by the coming dawn light.

“Your choice. Come with us or stay with them?”

Torque took off running.

◊ ◊ ◊

Kate Runnels

Kate lives in a small town in southern Oregon. She loves competing and coaching in hardball roller hockey and roller derby. While her derby name is unimaginative, Runnels, her number is original and unique in the derby world at -1.

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Published by Associate Editor on June 1, 2015. This item is listed in Issue 26, Issue 26 Stories

Death is Only a Memory

by Kate Runnels

deathisonlyamemory1A bright flash of white, vivid in its intensity, shocked her and then sudden and complete blackness engulfed her.

Lia shuddered.

They were ghosts, whispers of what they once were. Fragments; fragments from her implants, her external memory. Nothing was clear. Everything jumbled together out of order, without any semblance of synchronicity.

Lia’s links, all of her connections that reached into cyberspace connecting her to any net, had gone blank. Lia was cut off. She was in a darkness so deep the fear faded in the vastness. Panic came and went, washing over her like sheets of rain, pounding down and then fading only to come back.

She knew only one thing. She had been wiped.

There were things she should know, but didn’t. She had relied too heavily on her cybernetic memory enhancements. But organic memory degraded and blurred with time. Lia tried to access file after file. Each one came up empty, blank.. Everything had been wiped from her memory.

She had been wiped!

The anger and outrage swept over her and for long moments she couldn’t think of anything else.

Lia couldn’t help but wonder how? She had always been careful, set barriers-attack and passive- firewalls, even virus mazes, to defeat or deflect hackers from accessing her mind and gaining the classified information within. She knew what became of those wiped of memory, not able to even dress themselves; they were reduced to an infant state. Then there were those who’d been hacked, or imprinted with false memories, not knowing who they really were and always questioning their actions.

Lia was an Agent, she protected others from this or brought to justice those who perpetrated such things.

The empty spaces in her mind informed her that she had been wiped. Maybe it hadn’t been a hack? With her brain and the cybernetic parts shielded, it would have had to be a short range, pinpoint blast with an EMP. If that was the case whoever perpetrated this act needed the knowledge of where her cybernetic implants were located. How had this happened?

That memory, too, couldn’t be accessed, wiped clean.

Lia initiated her search program, entering keywords.

2B y47-m04-d11: a memory file she knew from days ago. It blinked at her: File not found. Empty; Empty; Empty. But there had been something there.

She had been wiped!

Pounding at the void, uselessly, frustratingly, she struggled within her mind for the remembrances. It took a very long time to calm herself. She would have to try and piece everything together from her organic side. That would take time. Time she felt she didn’t have.

She tried to piece the fragments together. But they were true ghosts, with little left to them; a shape without substance.

She searched her other memory, searched for fragments to tie together. Her long-term memory remained, untouched. She thanked whomever for that, but everything up to two weeks ago – gone. She thought back, she had arrived at work, heading for a meeting with her boss. Was her boss now trying to hide something from her? Was the H.K.S.A? If her own employers were out to get her, she had done something terribly wrong. She had to know!

 

“Hong Kong Security Agency; what is the nature of your call?”

Another phone rang farther on down the row of desks answered in a similar fashion by a similar receptionist.

Agent Liana Sasaki wound her way through the maze of desks with the ease of long familiarity. Lia carried no discernable weapons; it helped in many cases to put victims as ease. She didn’t need weapons. Her left arm had been cyberized, and when it opened up she needed nothing else.

The room was small and packed to capacity and even overflowing into the agent’s offices in all dimensions, up, down and around. Greeting a few of the receptionists by name, she continued past, without stopping to chat, toward the back offices. They were busy and she had a meeting to attend in a few minutes.

The Agency hadn’t changed very much since she began working for them seven years ago. It had grown from what she remembered, having then only six receptionists who took calls and greeted people as they walked in from the street. Now the Agency had sixty in three shifts round the clock. And back then, she would have been one of the units sent out to handle one of the emergency calls. She still remembered her designation: 5-2-4. But she was no longer Unit 5-2-4, not since her partner Ming had died and if she didn’t hurry she would be late.

deathisonlyamemory3Lia stepped into her boss’s office. Matt Decoto. He wasn’t the president of the agency, he had never wanted much responsibility, but he had been around since the Agency’s conception. He sat now typing into his computer. He had a thick head of grey hair, a body that had at one time been fit, but a long time in the past. He used DNA specifics to keep his bulk reasonable, but mainly to increase memory and working speed. Typing was an old affectation.

He looked up as she came in.

“Sit down, Senior Agent Sasaki. I’ll be just a moment.”

Lia sat and waited until he turned to her. “Sasaki.”

“Yes, Chief of Investigations Decoto. Why the formality?”

“There is a case I want your personal attention on. Unit 10-23 handled the original call. A gang of cybernetic enhanced children, children who’ve rejected their tech attachments-”

“The autistic’s who’ve even rejected treatment?”

“Yes. They attacked and molested a young natural woman with no enhancements and carrying no discernable tech. The attack itself is unusual and where it occurred. But the victim has disappeared after the attack.”

“That is strange, but not unheard of. Do we have any identification on the Disappeared? And I assume we’re considering him/her to be kidnapped at this point in time?”

“Of course. The disappeared is Sunny Shirow’s, our silent partner’s, daughter.” He leaned forward, the chair groaning as he shifted his weight. “He and I want your expert skills on this case, and handled with the utmost discretion.”

“Of course, Matt, when have I ever been anything but discrete?” She smiled at him as he glared at her from under his bushy eyebrows.

“Just handle it, and handle it quickly, Lia, we don’t need or want the media coverage on this.”

“Yes, boss. No problem boss. Don’t worry about a thing, boss.” She still smiled as she stood and left his office to find Unit 10-23; Agent Sung and Agent Maxwell.

Heading to a different part of the building, she hoped to catch the Unit at their desks. She didn’t really like them and the feeling was mutual.

They looked up from their computer terminals, and the sheets of paper spread out around their desks. She asked without greeting them, “Have you filed a report yet on the disappearance?”

“Sending it now, Senior Agent Sasaki,” said Agent Sung, pressing a button on the touch screen. The report came in, and she took a moment with her cybernetic enhancements to bring it up in front of one eye to read it.

“Well, this is different,” Lia said. “What happened to shoot first and tell lies later?”

“Funny. Get out of our space, Sasaki, and let us do our work.” Sung went back to typing.

Agent Maxwell still looked at her. “Can’t see why Decoto wanted you on this case, you can’t even keep a partner.” There was no love or warmth one might feel for humanity between them.

 

Lia came out of her memory searching for more, but she couldn’t remember all of the details. She hated organic memory. She couldn’t access it anytime she wanted with full detail of sound and visual.

So what happened after?

Lia initiated another search using different parameters. File not found. Empty. Empty. Empty. After the third empty, words appeared: Delete. Delete. I. Eat. Meat.

She had been tampered with; those were her safe words for any type of tampering within her mind. At the same time, it informed her that those who had wiped her were still around even though she couldn’t access sound or sight, in some way the program could.

Lia knew now there was something beyond the void in which she existed. She would proceed, cautiously.

The next memory, and the one following, there would be clues as to what happened. She tried to remember what had happened after meeting with unit Ten-twenty three. She had headed to the specified address in their incident report.

 

The door opened and an old woman peered up at her through old-fashioned corrective lenses. Lia doubted she had ever seen something like that outside of history books or old movies. With cybernetic implants, and DNA specifics, many people opted to replace their defective eyes; the old woman had not.

The woman might not be a hard line naturalist and no Transhumanist, but it was no wonder she had called in the assault and kidnapping of a natural, by cyber autistics. Lia would ask a few question 10-23 hadn’t thought to cover during the original call.

A car honked behind her. She saw it flash past in the lenses of the glasses facing her. There was so much movement there, cars, people, bikers, dogs, but the eyes behind those lenses gazed at her steadily. The old woman blinked slowly through her think lenses. Bringing one age-lined knuckle-swollen hand, she rubbed at her eyes underneath the glasses. “I must be seeing things.” She looked again at Lia. “No. I’m not. But it can’t be real.”

deathisonlyamemory2“Ma’am, are you, Mrs. Chan?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Are you Liana Sasaki?”

“Yes,” she answered slowly. What was going on here? This old woman had taken her completely off her stride with one simple question. The sounds of the street intruded, people laughing, talking on their links to someone else, maybe a block away, maybe half a planet away. Lia missed what Mrs. Chan said next.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” the old woman repeated, “you haven’t aged a day in thirty years. It’s remarkable, even with the tech advances nowadays. I know it has been a long time, but surely you remember me?”

Lia shook her head, uncomprehending. She was supposed to question Mrs. Chan, not the other way around.

“I’m Alison Chan.”

“That can’t be possible. That must be your granddaughter or daughter.”

“I only have a son who is unmarried. I’m sorry, but that is me, I assure you. You really don’t remember? Anything? We served together with the UN peacekeepers in New Congo during the war. Charlie Company, 3rd Battalion.”

“No.” She stepped back, off the front entryway, slipping on the last step and stumbled into a pedestrian. Catching herself, she gave a hasty apology and crossed the street as fast as she could to get away from those motion reflecting glasses and the unwavering eyes behind.

Lia gave one last bewildered look at Mrs. Chan, a friend from a long time ago. One she hadn’t seen if Lia believed the old woman, in thirty years. That couldn’t be correct. Since leaving school only ten years has passed, ten years, not thirty.

A car honked and Lia moved out of the way. She needed a place to think, a place to get information. She pushed the case into a secondary position in her mind, not entirely forgotten, but not at the top of priority. She could hack into the City Traffic database to find the surveillance footage and ID the assailants then put a virus in to track their movements. Later. First, she would find somewhere where she wouldn’t be distracted. All thoughts of the Carime Shirow, of her abduction, were gone.

She needed answers of a different sort now. She headed for a Cyber café, she could plug in there, think and get information.

 

The memory dulled and she came back into herself, still thinking. She had found information on herself by delving throughout the web. Some info had taken little time, but others took much longer and then she found it: her original birth certificate. It had to be a fake, a forgery, some hacker tampering with information for a joke.

It had listed her date of birth as 2084. That wasn’t possible. She was born 2119. 2119 not 2084, however, with the two facts so close together, the old woman and the birth certificate; it wasn’t coincidence.

What was going on? Who had wiped her? Why had she been wiped?

What had she done next?

She still hadn’t believed. She had gone back to the Agency, gone deep down below the main offices to the labs and had her cybernetics checked and updated. There she had snuck into the security mainframe for the Agency. If she’d had the time she could have found all the answers to her questions, but Decoto had paged her over her links.

Then, the memories fogged, she could only catch glimpses, as if she were trying to remember a dream, days later.

She relaxed and let the images come of themselves, and then she had one; later, but clear and along the path to answers.

 

“Do you remember when the police forces around the world failed?” Decoto asked her.

An odd question, but she would go with it. He had paged her so quickly after her access of the information on the net; he must have had it flagged. He had the answers. She waited, stalling. Knowing the truth would change her in some inconceivable way she couldn’t anticipate. Lia wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

She shook her head. “I was no older than a couple of months, back then.”

“No, you weren’t.” He smiled, the stubble on his face parting to show his white teeth. “But tell me what you remember, from history books and what not.” He sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair, observing her, watching her.

“Fine. It happened almost immediately after the African Nations War,” she began. “the natural resources in Africa drew the global powers which funded, directly and indirectly, to militia’s, warlords and even the countries. As the war dragged on- it pulled the world into a recession. So after the cease fire, and with the treaties signed, the governments sent their military’s home. but that only worsened the recession. This is when the police forces around the world failed.

“Poverty, hunger, and disillusionment, were widespread with governments in many countries doing little to improve the situation. Street gangs, the poor, the disgruntled, those who’d served their countries and gotten little in compensation and many more struck in force. It led to riots occurred in all major cities of the world. Many of the police officers perpetrated crimes at this time, expecting, in the confusion, to be overlooked, and get off without punishment. But the crimes only fueled the anger of the populace and the police forces were overwhelmed and ineffective. Before the respective countries governments declared martial law, ex-military, ex-cops, and many others banded together to create the first all-encompassing security agency.” She scrutinized Decoto while she spoke.

His only motion was to blink at random intervals. His breathing was loud, but he was a large man and always breathed loud. His beefy hands never twitched, never moved, he only stared at her.

“The security agencies put down the riots and brought peace to the streets when the police could not. Around the world, the other cities followed suit, as what happened here in Hong Kong. The Agencies don’t work for the governments and are funded more like insurance companies. After a year in business, no one called the police for help any longer. The governments disbanded all but a token force and put the funding elsewhere. It helped stimulate the economy, creating jobs, and a safer living and work environment. Government money was now being used in necessary areas, instead of a police force that was shown to be corrupt and ineffective. ”

She paused, remembering his words. “What do you mean; I wasn’t a baby back then?”

A million other thoughts and possibilities flashed through her mind in that brief moment. Decoto rubbed at his stubble of a beard before answering her.

“You already suspect it; it is why you are here. You accessed information you weren’t supposed to find, buried as it was under useless data. But it only confirms for me how close we are to reaching full potential. Lia, you missed one large fact: you were one of the co-founders of this agency.”

“That’s impossible.”

Decoto gazed steadily at her.

“It’s not possible,” she said. “I have cybernetics but I am not a full body cyborg. I should show some signs of aging. I look twenty-seven. I am twenty-seven! I had to work my ass off to become a senior agent, the youngest ever! I am not that old.”

“But you are.”

“Shouldn’t I remember this past you speak of? I remember going to military Academy; I remember graduating; school, my parents, friends, my childhood. I do not remember co-founding the Hong Kong Agency. Why don’t I remember?” Why didn’t she remember? She wanted to know the truth. She readied one of her cybernetic parts in her arm with a thought, readying for a strike. She wanted answers and, so far, he hadn’t been very helpful. She could change all that.

“It’s all in there.” He pointed to her head.

“What – suppressed, blocked?”
“Yes.”

“By your orders? The executive board? Chairman Zhang?”

“No; by yours.”

“You lie. I want to know the truth. Tell me.”

“I think I have said too much. There will be many repercussions from this.”

“You will tell me.” Left arm, as fast as an eye blink, split apart, changing into one of her interrogation tools: one that subdued or drugged. Before she could use it, Decoto laughed at her and faded from sight.

She snarled again but to herself. Talking to a hologram, how had she missed something like that?

 

The organic memory fuzzed at the edges, but she could catch more, slightly more.

She remembered wanting to track him down to kill him, no, to make him suffer as he made her suffer, and then end it.

The needed answers continued eluding her. Decoto had done something to her. She was older than she looked and remembered, but how? And where was she now? How did she get here, wherever here was? Had what happened to her happen to Carime Shirow? Were their cases similar?

Back at the Cyber Café, she found the recorded images of the attack reported by ten twenty-three. She thought hard to remember. Why had the Autistic kids turned after they had passed by her and then attack? Carime had nothing cybernetic in her records, but were they fake too? She’d done enough rewriting of data to know records were never true. There was something she was missing. The records might have been hacked and tampered with, but there was one thing. The image on the screen showed a young girl, but the records stated her age as 26 and deceased in a transportation crash. She was dead; she was alive? What was happening? She’d found all this before being paged by Decoto. Was any of it relevant?

Who had attacked her: Decoto, the autistic cyber children, or an anonymous third party? Lia wanted to remember what had happened to her, what happened after leaving Decoto’s office?

She wanted to remember.

That’s it! She had wanted to remember. Decoto had answered a question. She had suppressed and blocked memories. Those could answer what she needed. But to do that they had to be retrieved. She’d contacted someone in the sub-basement. She could trust him. She’d had no one else; she had to trust him.

 

“I need your help, Holt.”

“For what?”

“Memory retrieval and possible reconstruction.”

“Now you’ve got my attention. Blocked, I bet. Any barriers, attack viruses, mazes, burn-outs? I’ll have to go carefully. Who’s the subject?”
“I am.”

He blinked, slow to open them back up, his almost complete black eyes vanishing for a long moment. “Why are you coming to me? You hate me.”
“Hate is such a strong word.” He raised his eyebrows. She took in a deep breath and said, “Fine. Hate. I am calling because you are the best. And I need the best.”

“I’m flattered.”

“That doesn’t make me like you any better.”

“Sorry. But I’m still flattered.”

“Right.”

She shook her head at the image on the screen. “When can we do this?”

“A half hour? A lot of the stuff I need is at the office. Can we meet at my lab?”

“I’m at the office. What do you need; I can get it for you.”

“You’re at the office?”
“Yes.”

“So am I.”

“I’ll be right down.” Lia cut the connection. She paused and looked around the office, thinking – would it still be the same office for her? Her chair, she’d had for two years, with the squeak when she leaned back: the indented carpet where she paced when she thought. Would they be the same? Would she remember a different office? Would the photos be different than she remembered? With different, unknown, unknowing people staring at her. Would she still be Lia?

Would she still be Lia? That was the million dollar question.

Her memory jumped.

She was in the lab with Holt going through the procedure. She tried, but could not bring anything into focus from before that. Hopefully, it was nothing important.

Lia lay on a cool table; the cold started to bleed through her clothes and deep into her; maybe not all of it came from the table. She did not know what to expect, but she would not back out now.

Her eyes flicked from the equipment and tech above her to different things around the small lab in nervousness; wires, computers, racks, displays, lifts and much more. She did not understand any of the stuff or how it worked. She didn’t care. Only caring with what it did. It would give Lia her memories back.

But would she still be her? Would it change her? Would she find that everything she believed in, every truth she held might be wrong? She had already found some truths to be wrong. The table shook as Lia shivered on it, wondering if all of her would be tossed to the side. But that fear wouldn’t stop her, she longed to know.

Lia glanced from the bright lights to Arzi Holt. His thin body walked back to her, while fiddling with something in his long fingered hands.

“Will it hurt?” she asked.

“It all depends on what memories are unlocked, if there are any to unlock.”

“There are. But that’s not what I meant.”

He looked down at her then, meeting her eyes. “No, the actual process will not hurt. Close your eyes and try to relax and we’ll begin the process.” He disappeared from sight behind the machines beside her. They began whirring as they started up before settling down into a constant hum. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was right; she didn’t want to watch any of his actions, always wondering what he did now – what would happen now? It would be much easier to let the memories come to her in blackness.

Lia jerked upright with a gasp!

Where was she? What had happened? What was that?

Glancing around, she found herself in a small office, lying on a couch pressed tight against one wall. A desk crammed the rest of the office; scattered objects littered every available space – papers, books, tech, toys and the tools of a cyborg specialist. Ordinary in its clutter, plain almost, nothing to frighten her here. Except—

She blinked. She hadn’t dreamed. It hadn’t been a nightmare. All of it was as real as this moment. If she rested now in Holt’s office, then the procedure worked-had worked. Not a dream; a memory.

She had died.

Lia remembered dying. She cupped her face in her hands. The feeling of the knife sliding into her flesh, felt as real now as it had then; the searing, tearing, burning pain; turning to see the gleeful look of the hyped and overloaded Cyborg; of herself slipping down the wall, gasping for breath and going into darkness. Lia took in a deep ragged breath and let it out just a shaky.

Holt stepped into the office. She glanced away from her memories to see his face. It wasn’t the same face she remembered. Though his face hadn’t changed with the introduction of new/old memories. Everything she saw there screamed sadness to her. Why was he so sad?

“You’re awake? Did you feel any pain? No lasting effects of the hack/dive and suppression removal?” He paused. “Did it work?”

“It worked.” Lia managed, not trusting her voice for anything more complex.

“I know what happened.” He stepped closer, his voice matching his face, his whole posture. The arrogant hacker she’d arrested, was gone; where? Where was the youthful pride that she resented and hated? She wished for it now “While you slept, I went diving into the secure files section in the main frame. I found some very interesting things.” He handed her a handheld data comp with the info displayed on the five-inch screen.

“Hacking again? That’s what got you busted down here in the first place.”

“I know, but I think you’ll thank me for it. It seems, well, I’ll let you read.” He fell quiet and Lia glanced one last time at this changed Arzi Holt, before studying the info. And studied the screen- and then re-read it a third time. Finally, she let it droop into her lap. Slowly she met his eyes.

“I did die. I thought, hoped, it was only a dream when I woke up.” She cocked her head to one side. “I remember it. I know I died, and yet know it wasn’t me who died. Only it was. Can you begin to understand this? I can’t. It’s so confusing a jumble of thoughts and emotions of who am I? What am I? Everything is in here. All of it.” She licked her lips; swallowed, knowing she rambled but not able to stop. “All of it. I’m a copy? A copy. I can’t connect the two of me. Can I connect the two? Holt, some memories- my childhood- for example, are the same. But it’s like laser beams merging, converging for a time, before separating and going their own way but at a different trajectory then the ones they were on before meeting. I really don’t know how to explain it.”

But now she knew why she had blocked these memories in the first place. Her company needed to continue, but this whole process was experimental, as well as extremely dangerous. She’d signed the release only days before her death.

Who knows what might happen if someone hacked her mind and found she was not only a clone, but with original memories and illegal cybernetics; dangerous, and very scary. Decoto had gone too far. He had abused his knowledge and position; more than once. He went far beyond her original instructions to him. Plus, he had tried to kill her, had managed to kill her. She would deal with him.

Were these thoughts now, her own, or part of the original? Where did the original end and the Lia she was now actually begin? Was she only an extension of something that died twenty years ago? Who was she really? The person who’d created HKSA after the collapse of police forces, or the one who’d let a hacker off and even had him join the company in repayment to those he’d harmed? Did she have her own thoughts, reactions, could she think creatively, respond originally, or was that programmed in from the original?

Her mind refused to focus on these issues, but they had to be resolved. She wanted to pace, but there was only a path to the desk and from there to the door. How could Holt be so ordered and precise in his codes but live like this? The question let her relax for a second on something other than herself, herselves?

Holt spoke up then, “They keep some of the original cells in the central vault in sub-section twelve.”

“Yeah; I read that.” She studied his face for a moment, down turned, sad. But she knew him, having profiled him for years before tracking him down, he hid something from her. “There’s something else.” He didn’t answer. But there was something else, some discrepancy with her memory and the information she had been given. “Something’s not right. If I, well, the original, died twenty years ago, this body – I – should be older.”

“Right.”

“How many others have there been of me? Of the original?”

“I don’t know.”

“Somebody does; I’m sure somebody does. Somebody in this company, yes. This company for so long keeping peace and order, it’s gone above the law. It wasn’t like this before. But I know who to go to.” She stood up, she knew what she should do, but uncertain if the idea was hers, or the other. The life she had stolen or the life forced upon her. She needed time to think through all of this new info. She really didn’t know where to go, or what to do. Every action brought questions; was that her or the original? Every action brought doubts. She doubted habits, likes, dislikes, her very beliefs and ideals. Lia was now more confused than she had been; but she had answers. She had answers.

A depressing thought.

Lia wandered out of Holt’s office. She headed out of the building and walked aimlessly in the crowded, colorful Hong Kong streets. She usually loved to walk the streets; to hear the people: the haggling, the talk and the gossip. She loved to see the bright flashing advertisements, seeing new things or different things. Buildings loomed over her. Lights flashed in all different colors across her face and people passed all around her, sometimes bumping, sometimes swerving. Tonight she took no notice. The places didn’t matter; the people didn’t matter; only thoughts mattered.

But were they her thoughts? Did the original control everything she did, had done? Will do in the future? How did she even know, how could she tell the difference?

Lia liked to walk when she thought, but was that truly her? Or was it an action of the original? She searched through her new memories and found so many she couldn’t distinguish from her own and that of the original. Some merged, overlapped, but sometimes even that overlap differed. She may have sat instead of standing, or jumped over the rail instead of taking the stairs. But she couldn’t differentiate between them. Which were hers? Which the originals? Was anything hers?

Who was she?

Amdeathisonlyamemory5 I an individual with my own thoughts, actions, responses, or am I only a part of another, an extension of someone else?

Who am I really?

Lia kept walking.

 

So that was it.

She had confronted Decoto. She had gone back to the Agency building and headed down to sub-section twelve and the central vault. There she found many interesting things in the databases not connected to the main hub, and the culture tanks and re-growing new bodies. She found Carime Shirow, being grown anew. Had they found the other dead or given up hope? Somehow the Cyber Autistics had known she was a clone. The how was beyond Lia. And now, Carime was being re-grown for Daddy. She wondered if Decoto had something to do with this. She didn’t find out then for security personnel arrived.

She had underestimated Decoto. A security force charged into the culture room with the grey banks of monitoring machines; elements of the security force she had helped train! They had her trapped. But they had underestimated her too, she had not informed everyone about all of her special modifications. Unit ten–twenty three no longer existed. Lia had never liked them anyway. But in the end, she’d been overwhelmed. The capture happened quickly.

Something seemed to snap within her mind. Something invisible – that had held her immobile. Her eyes flicked open and she could hear voices as if they stood far away on a quiet day. She turned up her hearing receptors as she studied what she could see in front of her. She didn’t want to risk moving too much until she knew her situation.

She lay on a flat metal slab of a table, tilted nearly forty-five degrees to vertical. And the room was cold. She couldn’t feel it for some reason, but she could smell it; the way it affected machines, screens, metal and wires – leaving a distinctive scent. Wires trailed away from her body to connect out of sight with several monitoring machines and possibly more. Lia heard them humming contentedly to themselves. She didn’t know what they did or monitored. Some might even inform others she was awake and aware now. That couldn’t be helped.

Lia lay half turned on her left side, to help reach her cybernetic implants in back. She sensed something more than other machines behind her.

One of the voices sounded all too familiar.

Her eyes slid to look out of the corner of her right eye, to see beside her as best she could. The motion very slow so as not to draw attention. She saw the front of the lab, with a large glass paneling separating the room. The glass soundproofing making the voices beyond sound far away: to men still spoke.

One – in a doctors white lab coat –explained something to the other. The other – Decoto, her boss, stood looking imposing and important. Lia guessed he wasn’t her boss anymore, and thinking back, she had first hired him for his position. She was his boss. Ironic.

“The new clone isn’t taking the memories,” the doctor said. “By some process, the old clone has erected several blockers, firewalls, attack viruses and barriers around her memories. And, this is the amazing part, even around the organic tissue. And though we couldn’t access those memories because of the preventive measures, we managed to wipe them.”

“How can you be sure if you can’t access the area?”

“We know the exact location of the implants from the files, I helped install many of them and the EMP blast targeted those areas.”

“That might be taking it a bit too far, very unnecessary. The clone will be disposed of soon anyway.”

“Maybe, but the EMP pulse will wipe memory and if the clone is tampered with before dumping of the body, it is a good precautionary measure to clear all the short term memory.”

“Good.”

So they had wiped her! Not all of it. They had tried a dump and wipe, but couldn’t get at it. Lia would have to thank Holt for that. He had done more it seemed, than unblock her memories, improving upon her own security measures She didn’t like people messing around in her mind, but in this instant she could almost kiss Holt. Almost.

deathisonlyamemory6The doctor continued, “We need to discontinue with this process and start anew with the original cells. A step could possibly have been missed with the new clone.”

The glass showed a slight reflection of the room around her. She could make out her own body, with parts missing. She trailed cybernetic linkages as she might intestines or ripped flash. Her left arm, the cybernetics taken off below the elbow, looked hallow, almost forlorn. She could see behind her.

To her.

The new clone. They had yet to begin installing cybernetic parts. The body remained whole, clean, pure, pristine. It made Lia sad in a way. The two men continued talking, distracting her.

“And the bodies?”

“I doubt we can learn anything more out of them. Have them taken to the incinerator.”

How callous! She was Decoto’s superior. She had started this agency, not him! He would not dump her or harm her in any way or form. Lia, more than just a clone, more than just a cyborg, she had her own thoughts, her own feelings. She was not a thoughtless automaton, like the car AI or the coffee machine.

Pushing off with the stump of her left arm, she ripped wires out of it with the other. Lights began flashing in the other room. They stared at the read outs, then looked up to stare at her through the glass. Their expressions were more than she could have hoped. And she still had some special surprises they didn’t know about.

“You will do no such thing, Decoto!” She may only be a clone, only a cyborg; with the cells and memories of the original in her, but she was more than that. Changes were inescapable in life, but people remained who they were and so would she. With the memory wipe and the implanted memories of an original-lost-past not her own. She lived and Lia would be Lia and acquire new memories. She had the right to choose, as did the clone next to her.

She may not have chosen her birth, but who does? She might not be able to choose the time and place of her death, but who does?

But she will choose to fight to keep her life. No confusion clouded in her mind on that issue; the original and clone had no doubts. She faced Decoto, wires trailing out of her, one armed, naked and unarmed. But she had never needed nor relied on a weapon.

“How dare you Matt! Are you trying to create a super human, to go along with your transhumanist ideas?”

“We’re not trying to turn Homo sapiens into homo superior. We are only gaining our full potential as humans, striving to bring it close to us and into us as humans.

“You’re a genetic clone with gene sequencing to make you faster, stronger, smarter, all of it, Lia, no eye sight problems, no arthritis, no debilitating diseases, with, on top of all that, artificial enhancements. Top of the line, experimental, and the in best cybernetics.

“Can’t you see what you are bringing about by being alive? You vindicate what we’ve worked toward for years. The revised cloning act of 2118 can be repealed by you.”

Lia shook her head. “I am not a tool to be used, cast aside, made anew, and used up. I have my own desires, goals and thoughts that are not a part of your super human plan. You made me, but you made me human.” And what she wanted was vengeance.

She stalked forward.

 

– end –

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