Polaris (27 page)

After a while, Cora peered over at Jeth. “Will you read me another story?”

He grimaced. “Right now?”

“Yes. Mom will like it too. Won't you?”

Marian smiled and kissed the top of Cora's head. “Yes, I will. I can't imagine anything better.”

Jeth tried to swallow, but this time the sob escaped him
and he nearly lost control. Only the motion of forcing himself to turn and walk out into the corridor kept him from it. He returned to Cora's cabin and fetched the reader. There was no sign of Sierra.

He came back to sick bay, carrying his heart in his throat. He didn't think he was going to be able to breathe, let alone read aloud.

“What would you like to hear, Mom?” Cora asked as Jeth pulled up a chair and sat down, switching on the reader.

“Have you heard “Sleeping Beauty” yet?” Marian asked.

Cora shook her head.

“Good. That's my favorite.”

Giving up the fight against his tears, Jeth searched for the story. It appeared at the top of the page and he began to read, his voice shaking and jagged as he wept.

But it grew easier as he went along, the tears tapering off, the wounds knitting themselves back together. He read and read, aware of his mother's eyes closing, her breathing slowing. And sometime before he reached the end she slipped away, silent and at peace, with one child on her arm and another reading her off into that final, forever sleep.

AT LEAST HE GOT TO SAY GOOD-BYE THIS TIME
.

It was cold comfort.

When he finished the story, he set down the reader and walked around to the opposite side of the operating table. Cora had closed her eyes, but she wasn't asleep. Her arms were wrapped around Marian's lifeless body, squeezing hard as if to keep Marian from vanishing.

She already has,
Jeth thought, but didn't have the heart to say it.

“Come on, Cora.” He touched her arm, pulling her gently. “You need to get some sleep.”

She shook her head. “I want to stay with Mom. I don't want to leave.”

“I know.” Jeth stroked the back of her hair. “But you have to.”

Cora began to sob. It was soft at first, but quickly grew louder. The power of it made the hairs on Jeth's neck stand up. A vibration went through the ship, the sound of metal shuddering as she began to manipulate metaspace without conscious thought.

“Cora, sweetie . . .” Jeth wrapped his arms around her
body and started to pull her away, but she fought it. She thrashed and screamed, losing control in the onslaught of her despair. He needed to get her calmed down before she ripped a hole in the hull and buried them all at sea.

Jeth opened his mouth to call for Sierra, but there was no need. She was already rushing through the door, the entire ship aware of Cora's distress by now.

“Hold her still a moment,” Sierra said, heading for one of the cabinets. A few seconds later, she turned toward them with a loaded jet injector in her hand. When Cora spotted it, she began to fight harder, but Jeth kept hold of her. There was a loud pop as Sierra pulled the trigger. Cora's tolerance was too great for the sedative to work instantly, and she continued to struggle for more than a minute, her screams cutting into Jeth's ear, his whole body aching from the vibration.

Her crying slowly lessened and then died away as her eyes slipped closed. She slumped against Jeth.

Sierra let out a breath and wiped hair from her forehead. “That was close.”

Jeth nodded. “How much was in that?” He indicated the jet injector with his head as he scooped Cora into his arms.

“You don't want to know.” Sierra set the injector on the counter then crossed the room to Jeth. “I'll take her to her cabin. I know you need some time alone.” The look of sympathy on her face brought tears to his eyes again. He didn't reply, just handed Cora over. Sierra was right. He wanted to be alone. If only for a few minutes before he had to deal
with the problems awaiting him.

She headed out of sick bay and down the corridor to Cora's cabin. Jeth turned back to his mother's body. He grasped the edge of the blanket and pulled it up over her head. Then he left, switching off the light as he went. He tried to push away the image of her body lying there in the dark but it remained, a ghost haunting the back of his mind.

Even though this wasn't his ship, he went up to the bridge and sat down at the pilot's chair. This had always been his favorite place on
Avalon.
It was where he came to relax or think or reset. He loved to recline behind the control column and stare out at the wide-open view of the main window. The starkness of it, the isolation, often brought clarity to his mind in times of trouble.

But this wasn't
Avalon
. And that wasn't space before him but the sea, bright and glistening in the late afternoon sun.

The weight of his loss crushed down upon him. It was cruel. He'd only just gotten her back, only spent a few precious days with her. Shame at some of the things he'd said burned in his stomach. Regret of the things he hadn't said burned in his heart. And poor Lizzie. She hadn't gotten to say good-bye at all. Or Milton. Jeth dreaded telling them.

But he couldn't dwell on it. Not with so much else that needed to be done. Like preparing for the final stage of the mission, confronting Aileen,
burying my mother
. Sadness sucked the air from his chest, metal clamps tightening around his heart and lungs. For a second he almost reached for the implant, wanting the surety of its presence. But in
his current state he didn't know if he could keep his feelings private from Eric and Perry, and he didn't want to share his despair with anyone.

Slowly he forced the emotions away, focusing his mind on the tasks at hand. The hardest decision he faced was what to do with his mother now, the horrible, inelegant task of disposing of her body. If he could have, he would take her back to Therin, to be buried next to his father. But that was impossible. Even if there was time to make the journey, it would take planning and money. It wasn't as if he could just fly in, dig the hole, and leave again. Not with half the galaxy on the lookout for him.

It would have to be the sea then. With her love of history, Jeth didn't think his mother would mind such an ancient burial ceremony. He could empty one of the wooden crates in the cargo bay for a casket. He would need to drill a couple of holes in the bottom to ensure it sank or they could set it on fire, and—

Sudden awareness that he was no longer alone tingled over Jeth's skin, and he stood up and spun around, drawing the Luke 40 still tucked into his belt. Halfway across the bridge, Aileen froze.

She raised her hands to show she wasn't armed. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Jeth grunted. “Is that so? I think startling me was exactly your intention. You just didn't mean for it to happen so soon.”

Aileen started to make a face but stopped herself. “I just came up here to talk to you.”

“Uh-huh.” He adjusted his grip on the gun. “More like you came to steal the medicine in my jacket pocket. Steal it any way possible, I imagine.”

For once, Aileen looked ashamed. “I'm serious. I just want to talk.” She hesitated, biting her lower lip. “Although I do still need that vial.”

Jeth's stare hardened. “Don't I know it.”

“I'm sorry about your mother. I didn't mean for that to happen. It shouldn't have happened. If she'd just stayed down and out—”

Jeth dropped a round into the chamber. “Don't you dare put any of the blame on her.”

“I'm not. I'm . . .” Aileen inhaled and exhaled loudly. “I'm sorry. It's just I needed that medicine, and I had no idea taking it would trigger a silent alarm.”

Realizing he was gritting his teeth, Jeth forced his jaw to relax. He wanted to just shoot her and be done with it. Only, he needed her for the Harvest job—six Reinette canisters, needing six people to arm them. And despite his inclination not to, his mother had asked him to hear her out. He would give her that much.

Jeth lowered the Luke, then returned it to the holster on his hip. “You have exactly one chance to convince me not to kill you.”

“What, would you like me to dance for you or something?” It was a pathetic attempt at humor, delivered with a pathetic attempt at a smile.

“No, I want you to play Scheherazade, and convince me
with a story. The true one. About you.”

“I think I'd rather dance,” Aileen muttered as she turned and sat down at the nav station. “But I suppose you deserve the truth.”

Jeth didn't say anything, and soon she began talking.

“What I said before was true. Those vials contain medicine that I need.”

Reining in his temper, Jeth said, “What medicine and why did you need to get it from a cloning lab?”

“Because she is one.”

Jeth and Aileen both swung their heads toward the door to see that Sierra had arrived. Her face was blotchy and her eyes red from crying. The sight of it brought Jeth's grief bubbling up to the surface. But the impact of Sierra's words drove it off at once.

His mouth fell open, and he turned back to Aileen, who'd flushed crimson. “You're a clone?”

Aileen's blush deepened. “I hate that word.”

“But how's that possible?” Jeth said, running his gaze over her. Everything he knew about clones was the opposite of what he saw in Aileen. Clones were born normal but developed severe genetic abnormalities as they grew up. They rarely survived childhood.

“She's an anomaly,” Sierra said. “A successful human clone.”

Aileen made a face. “Not successful enough it seems.”

“Okay,” Jeth said, taking in this news. “So you were grown in a science laboratory. But that man at Hanov. He
was your father, wasn't he?”

Aileen shrugged, the casual gesture unsuccessful at disguising her discomfort with the subject. “Father, creator, what's the difference?”

Jeth frowned, thinking of at least a dozen, but he was in no mood for a philosophical argument on the subject.

“You're the missing link, aren't you?” Sierra said.

A sneer twisted Aileen's features. “I hate that term even more.”

“I don't care,” Sierra said, glowering back at her. The venom in her voice made Jeth flinch. “His mother is dead because of you. I suggest you keep your feelings to yourself. Or I will give you something real and present to hate.”

Once again, Jeth's despair threatened, and he slid his hand into his pocket, desperate for the assurance of the implant. The pain on Sierra's face stopped him. She hated the implant, and even though he felt its absence like a terrible abyss inside him, he refused to add to her pain by putting it in now.

Jeth waited, wondering how Aileen would react. He could sense the anger rising off Sierra in hot waves. She was spoiling for a fight. He half wished it would happen. He put his hands on his hips. “What do you mean by ‘missing link'?”

Sierra turned toward him. “The name itself is a joke, one the scientists at Hanov used to kick around, especially those who specialized in genetics and cloning. They were always searching for the missing piece of the formula that would allow them to successfully clone a human being, one that wouldn't develop genetic abnormalities over time.”

“I don't see how that's funny,” said Jeth. Across from him, Aileen harrumphed but didn't comment.

“Well, scientists aren't known for their humor,” said Sierra, “but it was a riff on the idea of how they were playing god through their work.”

Jeth shook his head, still not getting it. Then he decided it was beside the point. “So Aileen is the missing piece of the cloning formula.”

Sierra nodded. “Or more like the lost link, if I have the story puzzled out correctly.”

“Actually,” Aileen said, “the escaped link would be the most accurate.”

“Okay.” Jeth rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Somebody explain what this means.”

Sierra folded her arms. “The rumor at Hanov when I was there was that there had been a breakthrough in the cloning process several years before but that the successful clone had disappeared. Either stolen or misplaced, no two stories were the same.”

Aileen laughed. “Misplaced. I like that one. But the truth is
this
successful clone escaped because she wasn't stupid enough to hang around once she realized what she was.”

“You didn't know you were a clone?” Jeth felt the need to sit down. He really wished he could put in the implant, but Sierra's pain hadn't faded at all. Even worse, her anger was very near the surface. He didn't want to provoke either.

“Not for the first fourteen years of my life,” said Aileen. “Not entirely, anyway. It's all very complicated.”

“What isn't these days?” Jeth said, giving in to the urge to sit.

Aileen cleared her throat. “My fath—creator, was the man you saw, Benjamin Stock. Old, wealthy, and wicked smart, he had everything he ever wanted except for a healthy daughter. The real Aileen Stock died when she was nine years old from some rare genetic disorder with a name I can't remember. From the day she was born, her dad knew she was going to die young, and so he set out to find a cure. Instead what he got was a successful clone of his daughter in which the disorder had been eradicated.”

“You,” Jeth said.

“Me.” Aileen swallowed. “I don't recall much of the first nine years of my life. What I do is mostly needles and doctors. I was born in the very lab we just ransacked, but I think I spent most of those early years in a secret lab on Stock's estate. Once he realized that I was a successful clone, he decided to keep me a secret from everyone. He didn't want the ITA to lay claim to me. He had other plans.”

“Like taking the place of his dead daughter?” Sierra said.

Aileen flinched, a blush heating her face again. “Precisely.”

“Hang on a minute.” Jeth raised a hand. “You
replaced
her?”

“Actually, she replaced me.” The bitterness in Aileen's voice was a tangible thing, biting like icy air.

“They did a memory transfer?” Sierra said.

Aileen nodded.

“They can do that?” Jeth glanced at Sierra.

“In theory. And only some of the time. It's a very imprecise branch of science. The ITA uses it most often on sleeper agents. The implanted memories allow the spy to exist with complete authenticity. They really believe they are the person their memories tell them they are, until they're activated.”

“Well no one ever intended to activate me,” Aileen said. “I did that on my own. My old memories started to seep through. Enough that I began to ask questions about it. Of course, Stock just dismissed them and encouraged me to leave it be.” Aileen grimaced. “I couldn't. And once I discovered the truth, I left, taking Aileen Stock with me.” She forced a weak laugh. “Not that I have a choice about leaving her behind.”

Jeth stared at her, remembering the way she had sounded when Stock had called her name. She'd called him “Daddy” in that little-girl voice, one that didn't belong to her. He wondered what it would be like to have your memories replaced by someone else's. To just wake up one day and realize you'd been pushed aside so someone else could take over.

It's like Dax forcing the implant on you,
a voice whispered in his head.