Someone to Remember Me: The Anniversary Edition (38 page)

Nine turned to grin at her, his smirk an expression of youthful glee. Short red hair and lively hazel-green eyes contrasted against his skin, darker than her own but still very pale. Scratching his head, Nine remarked after a mischievous study of her face and body, “Now we’re making progress.”

“An hour at that console and you opened the windows?” she laughed.

“Priorities,” he shrugged. “Besides, I can’t let Ninety-Nine do everything,” he grumbled, returning to his touch screens. Chuckling, Null caught her own reflection in the glass display of her computer. She marveled at the difference the light made. Her curly, russet brown hair fell just short of her shoulders, and her smoky gray eyes studied her narrow face without mercy. She forced herself back to work but the visages of herself and the man next to her never quite escaped her.

When he had been beneath Grand Cross, when Twenty spoke with the AdvISOR, it had decreed:

“Love caused the Fall. Love has undone the greatest achievements of man.”

Love also gave Twenty a giant headache. For the better part of two days, Twenty hadn’t slept thanks to being kidnapped from the Second Core yesterday and held at Grand Cross until late last night. He scolded himself for not sleeping in the hours between his release and the return of Seven and Eight.

As Seven had annoyingly reminded him less than an hour ago, he was the best friend Twenty had ever known, and his concern for Seven’s wellbeing kept him from resting. He found himself concerned for Eight as well, knowing that the new Eight was better than the old Eight. So how good of a friend could Twenty be to either of them when he was still lying to them? He possessed his memories, he did not have amnesia, but he couldn’t bring himself to confess. Twenty liked the bond he shared with the other survivors and he didn’t want that taken away. Couldn’t that be his reward? Wasn’t he due that, at least, for loyally carrying out the plan?

Twenty wanted to laugh at himself for secretly treasuring their friendship. For allowing himself to be honest enough to know that what he had now was worth the lie he might have to tell for the rest of his mortal life. Because the love of his friends, and the love he felt for his friends, was worth that.

Isn’t that what you romantic airheads believe?

Once they were well away from Haven, the lie wouldn’t matter anymore.
The Mortal Coil
would take them to new lives and new memories but, until then, a small celebration was in order. With that objective in mind he wandered into the cargo hold and ignored the stasis pods, considering their occupants nothing more than lazy freeloaders who had missed the hard work. Instead, he walked along the outer wall of the cargo hold.

Triangles were drawn into the walls, alternating between pointing up and pointing down with a small number inscribed on each plate. According to the manifest, he had found the one he wanted.

“Open,” he ordered. A pyramid shaped plate rose into the ceiling and revealed a storage container for sealed liquids. Grabbing the one closest to him, Twenty pulled a handle of clear liquid from the rack and quietly praised his own good luck. He kneeled and found rows of cups, fishing six free but placing them in each other so that they were easier to carry. Just to check, he loosed a cup and poured it full of the clear liquid. Standing up straight he lifted the drink to his lips and sucked it down in one gulp.

He nearly vomited.

“That’ll do,” he coughed, sealing the bottle and gathering the cups into his arms.

“Raiding the beverage locker already?” Ninety-Nine accused him, emerging from between a row of stasis pods. Startled, Twenty almost dropped his stolen contraband as she approached. “How did you find this?”

“The same way you did. The ship’s inventory told me,” he answered with a shrug.

“It took me three hours to figure out the inventory system. When did you learn to use it?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not hoarding supplies,” he countered defensively and, in his humble opinion, rather cleverly changed the subject. “Celebrations are in order, though.”

“For what?”

He smiled at her blatant disapproval. Even in the low light of the cargo hold he could see her annoyed expression. The return of natural light and air to Haven had the others studying themselves; examining their features for the first time. Twenty supposed he could waste time appreciating Ninety-Nine’s small frame, her strawberry hair, or misty blue eyes.

Another simple truth, which none of the others could be allowed to discover, was that he already knew what they looked like in a world of color.

Most of his memories of the Rose Twelve were from before the fall of Haven. From before the purge ripped color and life from the only place he remembered calling home. For him, the other survivors were the same today as they had been five centuries ago. But, he conceded, when all they knew of one another and themselves were muted colors and gray tones, actual sunlight had to be refreshing.

“Because we made it. Everyone’s alive and we’re finally getting off this forsaken rock for good!” he exclaimed, answering her question at last. Ninety-Nine’s head tilted sideways as she studied him. He wondered what she was looking for. “Think about it. We won.”

In reality, Twenty meant himself. He had supervised the plan to fruition, despite a few missteps, but his part had been acted to perfection and he wanted to revel in success. He basked in the restoration of a mentally stable Seven, who was in love with a woman equally enamored with him. He thought of Null cautiously rebuilding her relationship with Nine and how crucial the pair of them would be to building a new future. He thought about how heroic he must look to Ninety-Nine for sacrificing himself to revive Seven.

“Right,” she answered, sounding unimpressed and downright suspicious, as if reading his mind. “Need help with that?” she asked, taking the glasses from him. He was relieved that she was finished interrogating him. Leaving the cargo bay with Ninety-Nine, Twenty’s mind returned to the AdvISOR’s statement. Maybe love could undo the greatest achievements of man. But without it, those achievements would not have been possible in the first place.

Seven and Eight were on the top of
The Mortal Coil
. A ladder outside the navigation center gave them access to the ship’s most impressive views. From their position they could see Grand Cross and the undulating ocean that lapped at its shores. When Seven looked out at the sea that canvased the horizon, he thought of how differently it had behaved several hours ago.

On their journey from Rose Garden to Grand Cross, the helicopter had passed over the Pala Channel and Seven remembered how blackened and still the water had been. He yearned to see that channel again, to pacify his own curiosity. Had movement returned to the waters there as well?

Instead of dwelling on that, Seven spoke the thought that came to mind.

“Do you think they reinvented it by now?” Seven interrupted the peaceful silence between him and Eight. She kept her head pressed against his shoulder, happy enough to listen to him ramble. “How long do you think it would take them to reinvent the cloning technology?”

“Does it matter?” Eight’s burgeoning annoyance flashed through her voice.

Seven could tell he was losing her interest.

“If the cycle can be paused but never stopped, how long until we come back again?” he asked. He surveyed the urban coastline in its decimated grandeur. With the help of the morning’s light, he could see into the empty foundations where the piping and cabling were exposed. Haven’s remaining towers glistened longingly further to the north, beyond the expanse of deconstructed cityscape.

“When the AdvISOR sent them away they were forced to restart their civilization, just like we’ll have to do,” Eight hypothesized. “Rebuilding cloning without the resources of Haven would be impossible within one generation, especially since they were split up when the AdvISOR sent them away.”

Seven sighed before he spoke again. “I know it sounds bad but, when I’m an old man and I die, I don’t want to come back. These bodies are young but my mind...my soul...it already feels as old as Haven...”

“The technology here doesn’t cover the world. Once we get far away enough...we won’t need to worry about reviving here when we die,” she assured him. Seven faced her as he tore his eyes away from Haven. Eight’s golden hair radiated the same warmth and light that the sun did. Her bright green eyes were confident but also filled with kindness and when he stared into them, like he was now, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

Afternoon light shone upon her smile and accentuated the smoothness of her skin. How deceptive they each must be, to appear so new, when their minds were so old and tormented. A new breeze lifted her long hair around her face and she batted it away but he wished she would leave it be. It made him want to say or do anything to keep her smiling. She blushed, surprised by the contented gaze with which he regarded her.

“It’s hard to believe that it’s over. Three lifetimes ending here,” he mumbled.

“This isn’t the end, Seven, it’s a beginning.”

He chuckled and whispered, “We get to start over one last time.”

Eight laid her head on his shoulder again. Seven hoped that this moment would last as long as it could, even if he knew better than most that all things must end. What he understood, at last, was that appreciating the moment was equally as important as the moment itself. He would treasure this reprieve with the woman he loved before the next adventure began. Before they set off in pursuit of the new world.

“One last time. Together.” Eight whispered. Seven kissed her and his mind went silent as he enjoyed the moment, his memories at rest in his past, as one word escaped him.

“Together.”

As if the ship knew that the survivors were reassembled within its halls,
The Mortal Coil
unceremoniously towed itself out of dock. Grand Cross, the looming structure much less intimidating than it had been last night, stoically presided over the vessel’s departure. Along the shore and the harbor, gathered atop the black stone walls and spires, were the MoNITOR drones. Each drone’s blue eye shone brightly in the afternoon light and the models with arms obeyed what was surely the AdvISOR’s command and waved the ship farewell.

Gathered in the windowless navigation center, the six Founders watched the ship operate itself at the start of the voyage away from Haven. Reports and readouts flashed across the plethora of displays and glass interfaces, requiring no interaction except for the occasional verbal assurance.

“We’re moving north along the eastern coast of Haven. It looks like our course will jut away from the island near the north-eastern edge,” Ninety-Nine announced, deciphering the maps and projections on the screens.

“There’s something of a veranda just past where the forward windows were,” Nine suggested, pointing ahead. A murmur of agreement passed amongst the six. “We can go say goodbye.”

“Twenty brought the appropriate refreshments,” Ninety-Nine laughed.

“I am the life of the party if nothing else,” Twenty answered fondly.

“I think when someone’s had a day and night as rough as him, they’re entitled to a victory drink,” agreed Null.

“After the last couple of days, who couldn’t use a drink?” Seven confessed.

“And then sleep. Lots of it,” Eight concurred with unanimous agreement.

Out on the balcony it was Twenty who poured six glasses and passed them around to his exhausted companions. Haven’s last survivors examined their deceased homeland as
The Mortal Coil
sped them away from the island, whose once mighty spires shrank into tiny lines above the sea until its remains became a shadow on the horizon.

They pressed themselves against the railing and tried to keep it in view because they were unsure of how long they had until it would disappear completely. With Haven’s passing imminent, the survivors feared that their experiences might fade into nothing more than the painful obscurity of bad memories.
The Mortal Coil
raced towards the unknown and the weight of their journey lifted in retreat, fleeing back to the shores of Haven.

Seven held his glass up, feeling that the time was right.

“To the new world,” he offered, drawing remarks of approval from his companions. He gave Haven’s diminishing shapes and shadows a quick glance before smiling at his friends.

Seven looked to Twenty, who gave him a mischievous wink. Ninety-Nine stared thoughtfully into her glass. Next to her was Null, whose hand entwined with Nine’s, two golden rings plainly visible. Lastly, he turned his gaze to Eight.

Five days ago, when he had met her, fear had pounded its way into Seven’s heart. Back then, in the empty spaces of his mind where his memories should have been, something called out through the gap that separated life and death; legacy and history. That she had been and would continue to be the key to his future and his past didn’t bother him.

What mattered was the life stretching out ahead of him and the joy of spending it with her. Astride the convergence of the past and the future, they silently lifted their glasses. Far away a small, dark spot marked Haven behind them.

Then it was gone.

Seven hit the railing as the force of the sudden, unannounced stop caused
The Mortal Coil
to shudder unhappily. His glass slipped from his hand, along with most of the others, and smashed against the deck sending crystalline shards and clear liquid dribbling in each direction. A glance over the edge of the ship confirmed what Seven already suspected.