LEGACY BETRAYED (13 page)

“But we need to know what happened!” Vector cried, receiving an icy glare from Legacy.

“No,” she pressed. “It’s fine. We can wait. Just relax.”

Legacy could see that those in the berth were peering up at them through the trapdoor, concerned but not wishing to intrude.

“Is everything all right out there?” a tentative voice ventured.

Her panic beginning to calm itself, she recognized that rusty old automaton, still clutched in Dax’s hand, with a start. It was one of her old ones. The thing was at least eight years old, if not older, and had been put through a battery of puddles and stomps and long falls and accidental washings. It didn’t work anymore. It hadn’t worked since she was thirteen or fourteen. It was a figurine, narrow and long, but its legs and arms were coming loose from its body, revealing the springs and wires that connected everything. The door to its chest would no longer properly close and often gaped open, revealing the mechanisms of the interior and ultimately bringing the old assistant to its untimely demise. What had its name been? Something to do with the rust . . .

“It’s fine,” Dax sighed, pulling himself erect and away from Legacy’s embrace. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Legacy pursed her lips. The color was slowly returning to his cheeks. So, good. That was good.

Vector clapped Dax on the shoulder and frowned down at him thoughtfully. “So?” he prompted. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Dax replied, shaking his head. His eyes were distant. “I’d just gotten home from work. I heard the bells of approaching police, and I thought –I thought maybe they were coming for me, but I also thought that it couldn’t be, you know? I hadn’t –But then, they came closer, and I just had this feeling, and I started grabbing stuff, anything important I could, and just . . . bolted. I bolted down the back stairway, and they sent their guys up the front. They came around the exit, too, but I was ahead of them by then. I had to run to the business district, found an automatic rickshaw willing to bring me the rest of the way.” He took another deep breath. “And here I am.”

“You know they got your place?” Vector asked.

Dax nodded, eyes closed. “Yeah,” he said. “I know it.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Vector replied, in that tone of forceful cheer which sometimes came upon him. “That’s fine, because there’s plenty of space here, you know. Tons of room. You have to stay, Dax, okay?”

Dax nodded. “I’ll stay.”

“And Leg?” Vector asked next, again insensitive to the shifting tensions between the couple. “Will you stay, as well?”

Legacy opened her mouth to say no, she couldn’t, because she had that rental at Glitch’s, still, and the . . . the satchel of clothes . . . the . . . the . . . what did she have anymore, anyway? What did she have that hadn’t been left behind again and again? Her favorite pair of boots were in a crate of mushroom patties on Old Earth. Her father’s ocular bot prototype, Blink 10, had been confiscated from the CC headquarters. The gift from Kaizen, a shift of silk, had been abandoned at her parents’ home, Unit #4, and then, of course, there was everything else she owned in the world, which somehow fit into a burlap sack given her by the prison guards of the Taliko Archipelagos, sitting near the shower stall in a rental at Glitch’s House of Oil.

The only things of worth she owned, she already had on her. She was wearing the shining vest, Flywheel-2, and tucked into her belt was the satchel of coins with which the Widow Coldermolly had endowed her.

How strange. To run with her life literally on her back. But then–

She glanced at Dax, with his golden pages strewn across the forecastle, his coins, and that old automaton of hers, which she’d hardly remembered, which she’d forgotten entirely, inexplicably clutched in his hand. Even when he’d let go of everything else, he’d held on to that.
Mudflower.
Its name had been Mudflower.

The rest of the ship was really quite simple, as Vector Shannon would say. The trapdoor in the chessboard forecastle led down into the berth, which had become more of a common room, although it did have bunks mid-construction being built along its walls and enclosed by cheap bed curtains – which reminded Legacy of a moment she immediately cast from her mind. “Beneath our feet are the storage compartments,” Vector informed them, stomping. “It’s not really a floor. It’s a patchwork of drawers.” Indeed, upon closer examination, there were handles dug into the paneled flooring. A small ladder downward led to a stooped second area, cluttered with communication devices, automatons, gauges and maps. “Communications,” Vector went on. “Rain used this to get in touch with those contacts she was confident were trustworthy.”

Legacy felt a pang. No one had contacted her. Was she a security risk in their eyes? Because of Kaizen?

I just risked my life to tell Icarus of our true intentions,
she mentally grumbled.

“There’s a laboratory and a library in the stern of the ship,” Vector said.

“Stern?” Legacy clarified.

“The ass.” Vector shrugged. “And tons of cabins, all in the middle of the ship, kind of next to the engine room, because this baby does still have rudders. Any propulsion is good propulsion, right? Well, it seemed like tons of cabins, anyway, a few days ago. It’s five. Five cabins. So, you know. If more people need to live here, space may become a problem, and we’ll have –bunk buddies! Yay!” Even Vector’s enthusiasm wore thin here. “But, as it stands, the only people living here most certainly are myself, and you, Dax, and you, Legacy, and good old Gustav–” Gustav was a member of the CC whom Legacy and Dax had met weeks ago, while in the Taliko Center holding cell. He’d made himself throw up multiple times to convince the guards to open a window, thereby enabling them to receive a robotic grappling hook, and seemed likewise the rough sort of guy who could manage it fine. “–and Rain basically lives here–”

“Do not!” Rain piped good-naturedly.

“–and Ray, you know, Neon’s old roommate, his girlfriend there, Izzy–” Or, rather, Isabella Whitmore. Legacy didn’t really know them, but she knew of them. They’d frequented the headquarters without being as deeply involved in recent projects. “–who had to leave home, you know, because old Neon went rogue, didn’t he? So, it’s not too cramped right now, because it’s just you, me, you, Gustav, Ray, and Izzy, and they share a room. Oh, and Claire, I forgot about her. She’s down in the library.”

“And Saul,” Gustav added. “Saul’s in the lab.”

“Oh, yes, and Saul moved in, too, and what’s that little kid’s name?”

“Levi!” a gangly, freckled blond boy snapped from where he fiddled with applying a padlock to one of the drawers built into the floor. “And I’m right here!”

Vector grimaced. “Levi . . .” he said. He sighed. “Please don’t do that. You’re going to make people trip, and anyway, it won’t work.”

“Why won’t it work?”

“Because of physics, Levi. It just won’t. Anyway, that’s only . . .” Vector gazed up into his black dreadlocks, counting with his fingers. “You, and me, and you, and Gustav, and Ray and Izzy, who share a room, and Claire and Saul, who also share a room, and Levi.”

“And you have five cabins,” Legacy repeated.

“Yeah, and I stay in one, and then there’s Gustav in another, and Ray and Izzy, Claire and Saul, and Levi . . . Oh. You’re right. Damn, I’m usually good at this kind of stuff, but can’t count to five, I guess. I’m out of rooms.”

“I can move, it’s fine,” Gustav offered quickly. “I’ll stay with Levi and you two can have my room. It’s right next to the engine room, so, you’ll be nice and far from the goings on of the common area, which can get loud, you know.”

Legacy suspected his eagerness to unload the room on them, but still found another detail even more disturbing. She was about to be sharing a room with Dax Ghrenadel.

They exchanged a nauseated glance.

At least they both felt the same way about it.

              The laboratory was the first room beneath the common area/communications, lined in strange beakers, bulbs of electrical energy, and jars of pickled body parts, warped and amplified.

              “W-what is this?” Legacy asked, staring dazedly at a burbling tank clustered with disembodied arms.

              “Uh . . . donations,” Vector answered uncomfortably. “From Rain.” He cleared his throat. “It’s quite simple, really.”

              “Is it?” Dax asked, peering shrewdly at his friend.

              “It’s an experiment regarding biotechnology that could revolutionize both robotics and medicine, and no one else was going to use them!” the bespectacled boy snapped. This was clearly a debate he’d had more than once now.

              “Oh,” Dax said, intrigued. “Can we–”

              “It’s not ready yet!” Vector snapped again.

              “Uh, hello?” a soft male voice broke into the conversation. A wiry, freckled man with thick, curly auburn hair over his shoulders and dreamy green eyes cropped up from behind a whirring spindle of sticky, white fiber. “Who’s this?”

              “Saul, how you doing,” Vector greeted. “Saul, these are Dax and Legacy.”

“Exa Legacy, as I live and breathe, by Jove! I’ve heard all about you!” the red-haired boy said, advancing to grasp Legacy’s hand. “You were on the radio! Just an hour or so ago! Great speech!”

“What?” Dax said.

“It’s no big deal,” Legacy replied.

“Oh, don’t be modest,” Vector disagreed. “She explained the main points of the CC, she stopped everyone from attending the rally in Neon’s message, and she told all the interested listeners to find some discreet way to show their stance and learn more from our members. Really great stuff.”

“Oh.” Dax nodded and seemed to tamp down his pleasure at this. “Well. That’s . . . that might help.”

“The radio stations are global, Dax! Of course it will help!” Vector burst. “Anyone who wanted to hear the news in Icarus, even from Heliopolis, could’ve tuned in! Now people who’ve never even heard of the CC know who we are, where we are, how we are, and why we are! The word-of-mouth will skyrocket! It’s amazing!”

Dax nodded, eyes unreadable. “Yeah, like I said,” he reiterated testily, “it might help.”

Legacy shrugged off Vector’s excitement and Dax’s notable lack thereof. “It’s nice to meet you too, Saul,” she said instead. “Hey, so, what are you working on?”

“Sorting.” Saul beamed. “I love to organize things, and this silk really needed it. I’ve categorized seven varieties of the stuff so far. May I bore you for a moment with its properties? Its tensile strength is comparable to a high-grade steel alloy! It can stretch up to five times its length without breaking and is as difficult to fracture as nylon! It’s also completely biodegradable and resistant to water!”

“It is fascinating,” Vector piped. “I confiscated some of the cargo from the Taliko Center basement for research purposes, and we’ve been running it through various tests here at the lab. The fibers are really fascinating. We’ve already used it to replace the chain on Gustav’s grappling hook. Legacy, Dax, get this: it can stop bullets. We’ve dissolved some into vials . . . it has antibiotic properties, and our wounds have responded quite well! I was all bruised up two days ago! Now? After a few applications of this stuff to the area? Not so! It knits in, and kind of pulls the skin together . . . it’s really amazing. It should come in handy for the biotech project. Heehee. ‘Handy.’” Vector beamed.

              The group migrated next to the library, accessible through the laboratory. It was a small, disorganized room with a fine-boned brunette surrounded by stacks of books. She had a sweet but serious face with pallid complexion, bulbous nose, and yawning gray eyes above whittled cheeks. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, examining a yellowed book actually crafted of paper.

              “Hello,” she greeted. Her voice was cartoonishly round, but also serious.

              “Legacy, Dax, this is Claire Addler.”

“Hey, Claire!” Dax greeted, strangely familiar. “I haven’t seen you in –years!”

For a moment, Vector frowned, but then he added, “Oh yeah! Claire used to work in the archives at CCSS.”

“She trained me when I was still a pup, as they say. How have you been?” Dax asked.

“Well,” Claire replied. “I’m strictly mechanical now. And how are you?”

“Oh, heart ripped out my back,” Dax explained in an upbeat tone. “You know how it is.”

Legacy’s cheeks caught fire, and Vector pointedly avoided looking at either or commenting.

“Here you go,” Claire said, handing him a thin booklet at her side. “Maybe this would serve you, then. Poetry.”

Vector cleared his throat and swept his arm toward the serious brown-haired woman, drawing her attention back. “And, Claire, this is Exa Legacy, metalsmith and speechwriter. The two will be joining us and taking over Gustav’s cabin.”

              “This book is made from paper,” Claire suddenly piped.

“Hand-me-downs,” Vector replied brightly. He looked back to Legacy and Dax. “Most of this stuff is about physics, biology, systems. But, obviously, you can find your odd compendium of poetry, too. What are you reading, Claire?”

Claire blinked. “Spiders. I’m making notes for you. Lots and lots of notes.”