The Bloodlight Chronicles: Reconciliation (14 page)

Her launch status went green on the big board at Richmond Station, and she bent to pick up her pack as Jimmy turned away.

Z
akariah paced back in forth in his assigned quarters, deep under the crust of the frozen planet Babylon, trying to decide if he was a prisoner or a volunteer. His door was unlocked but certainly monitored electronically by Colin Macpherson, the Architect of all. Everything around him was controlled, bent to a sure purpose, moving implacably forward. He hated the thought of it.

He lay down on his bunk and feigned sleep in the darkness, wondering about the gods of fortune and mechanical madmen. Life was a long list of insignificant details that added up to a mountain of evidence in the end. At every rung on the ladder, the choice to go up or back presented itself, at every crossroad, the choice of left or right, but reason alone often dictated the pathway, and the spirit of man prodded this way or that. Was free will just an illusion, a conjuring trick propped up by his puny rationalizations? Did his own father discover this truth years ago when he stole off in the night with Zakariah's baby sister? Was he merely following the path laid out for him, his own inexorable destiny?

“A pawn in someone else's game,” he said aloud, finally, and rose to his feet. He donned his flight boots and shrugged his heavy coat over his cardigan. In the darkness he opened the air-duct grate over his bunk and climbed up into the tunnel. Down the hallway he kicked open another grate and dropped to the treadway. He jogged up the gentle slope to the elevator.

He arrived at the shuttle dock at shift change. A cargo shipment was half unloaded, the new crew yawning and sipping coffee, the shuttle pilot waving goodbye with a young partner on his arm. Zakariah exchanged pleasantries with a supervisor as he accepted hot chocolate from a free dispenser. The cup steamed pleasantly in the frigid air.

“Any traffic in the area?” Zakariah asked absently, looking away.

“Naw. We had a bogey earlier, but it turned out to be a corporate jet heading for the Silver Lake Minesite. The girls in Control are antsy as hens. We're expecting one more shuttle today with dignitaries from town. You in on the big event upstairs?”

Zakariah chanced quick eye contact and a plastic smile. “I have a small part to play.”

“Good luck. Sounds like you might need it.” The supervisor tipped his steaming cup at him.

“Thanks,” Zakariah responded. He sipped hot chocolate and ambled away.

After circumventing the shuttle dock twice, he finally noticed a green light over one of the landing bays. He accessed through the launch gate and stepped into the shuttle. The passenger hold was empty, the lights all powered down. He crept through the galley and peeked in the door to the cockpit. A young man with a red toque sat at the controls.

“You're late, slumlord,” the red leprechaun said, a young man with a wry smile.

Zakariah sat in the co-pilot couch and strapped himself in. “What's your name?” he asked.

“Colin7.”

Zakariah peered at him closely, seeing a family resemblance, the narrow face and pointed chin. “You're a clone?”

“Yep.”

Zakariah shook his head in wonder. “Macpherson has really got his bases covered.”

Colin7 nodded. “That's the problem, slumlord. Our Father's a control freak—genius gone wild. He drove his wife to suicide long before the Doorway opened up—never gave her room to breathe or a voice to call her own. They never had any children. You ready to make your escape?”

“Blast 'em up, partner.”

The shuttle leapt like a cat into the night.

“Will they follow us?” Zakariah asked after his stomach settled back down from his throat.

“The outpost is not equipped for search and rescue. Nor do they have conventional armaments. They don't even know I'm here.” Colin7 made a gleeful sound of mischief. “I'm a genius, too, you know, a data chip off the old block.”

“Why the mutiny?”

“Lots of reasons, internal and external.”

“Name five.”

Colin7 laughed happily. “Oh, very well. The Alpha and Omega Project is a wanton waste of resources that will seriously curtail corporate activity for years to come and could jeopardize hundreds of souls in storage. It has drastically upset the balance of power between the Overlords, the Municipalities, and Soul Savers Incorporated. How many is that?”

“Are you Eternal?”

“In a manner of speaking. A new clone is activated every sixteen years ad infinitum. We live, we die, we are custodians of our Father. We don't use the alien virus, nor do we need it. We live forever, and yet we are individually expendable. Meaning no personal disrespect, Soul Savers regards the virus as a mere biological anomaly.”

“You mentioned external reasons.”

“Ah, now we reach the crux of the conundrum. We believe our Father is tampering with reality as we know it by breaching the space-time fabric with such violence.”

“But the Source does it all the time.”

“Not by blasting holes with a subatomic cannon, I'm sure. What if the wall cracks? What if it tears or twists or falters or shifts one nanosecond out of alignment? And what do you think the aliens are going to say when we blow a hole in their living room?”

“I'm not convinced.”

“You're here, aren't you? We both know why.”

Zakariah reached up to rub the shadow of stubble on his cheek, wondering about life without skin, a mind without a body, a cybersoul lost in paradise. His hand swept up his face and across his furrowed brow. He rubbed a knot of tension between his eyes. His fingers circled there, pressing the skin up to his hairline. What a mess.

“I'm afraid he might succeed,” he said finally.

“Exactly.”

“There's no freedom in New Jerusalem.”

Colin7 nodded unhappily. “The Architect controls everything and everyone utterly. With a track record like that, we can't just hand him the keys to the cosmic kingdom.”

“I guess that's it,” Zakariah said and smiled at last. It looked that simple, out in the open where he could see it. He felt that he had vaulted over a threshold in his mind. He had seen the devil and turned away.

“You're set up just fine back home, slumlord. You and Jimmy can kick back and talk about the good old days from a Prime level penthouse view. Helena's out of the picture now that she's been uploaded into Soul slavery. With her voodoo wetware in your brain, you'll be free to impersonate her to your heart's content. Money, power, prestige, Eternal life. I'm sure you can make it work.”

Colin7 smiled with satisfaction. “We're six hours from your appointment with the Doorway. Get some rest.” He reached over and patted Zakariah's knee. “You've done well, my friend.”

Zakariah dreamed of dragons dancing too close to the sun. Their wings burned and they fell like arrows into a crimson, pulsating heart. Blood poured out like a river, and ships and rafts sailed by on the waves of ichor. They turned in all directions and beckoned to him to jump, to save himself. A waterfall lay ahead, and rainbows arched above it. Thunder rumbled in a cloudless sky. The earth shook and he jumped skyward. The wind whipped his cheeks as he gathered speed. His eyes watered and he blinked tears back to his temples. Too fast. Too fast. From this height he could see the rainbows were full circles, targets of light. They aligned into a cone, a tunnel, and he angled toward the centre, spinning like an arrow. Suddenly he was falling out of control, down, deeper, and in panic he turned to grasp a rainbow rung just out of reach. A dark, bubbling cauldron of smoke lay below, and he kicked and flailed as he plunged toward hell, his arms and legs outstretched, spinning in a kaleidoscope of colour. A moist heat rose to meet him, the fetid breath of devils. He bumped to a halt and opened his eyes with a start.

“New Freedom Transit Authority,” the red leprechaun told him happily. “Here's your ticket verification.” He handed over a faxslip, smiling. “Go home now, slumlord. No harm, no foul.”

Zakariah stumbled onto the landing and looked around, recognizing nothing. He shuffled along with the staff and porters until he found a ticket gate and a barrage of security scanners.

Helena Sharp stepped up to block his way, her face wary with distrust.

Zakariah gaped at her. He sighed like a doomed man, feeling frayed around the edges and dreading another confrontation.

“You coming home?” he asked her.

“I am home, Zak. This is where I belong. We're building a new world, an infinite playground. There's a place for you, too. Lots of Eternals have signed on. Soul Savers offers true immortality, true paradise.”

Zakariah shook his head and lowered his eyes briefly. “They could pull the plug on you any time.”

Helena dismissed the idea with a quirk of a smile and a toss of her chin. “You could get shot in a terrorist attack,” she countered.

“Forgive me, Helena. I made a mistake.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

Zakariah matched her stare and held it. “I tried to manipulate you. I wanted to control everything. I'm sorry.”

Helena's brows knit in confusion. “Very well, then. I forgive you. It doesn't matter now.”

Zakariah held out his good right hand. She shook it firmly, sealing their mutual absolution.

“Are you here on official business?”

“I'm delivering a simple message for a friend.”

“Are you required to detain me?”

“I have no power over you.”

“Then I am free to enter the Doorway?”

Helena whistled a slow exhalation. “Your wife would like to speak to you first. She's in New Jerusalem at the Soul Savers headquarters.” Helena offered forward a glowing handheld. “She came in last night.”

Zakariah stared at her incredulous. Her bland face offered no clue, no explanation. He reached for the webphone with trembling fingers. A small vidscreen flickered to life. A snowy image of his wife appeared, surrounded by static discharge.

“Mia,” he said, not daring yet to believe his eyes.

“Zak, I love you.” Her voice was clear, unmistakable. How was this possible?

Zakariah felt a great vacuum in his chest, a breathless, painful void. His thoughts seemed removed from his body, distant and unconnected, his essence floating high above like a balloon on a string. He looked down on a foolish puppet, a man of wires and circuits. “How did you get here?”

“Your pal Jimmy helped me out. Some money came in from your father.”

“My father?”

“I couldn't wait any longer, Zak. I couldn't live without you. I came to help you find the Source.”

Zakariah remembered the hope that had once driven him, the hope now all but lost. The Source, his mission for Rix.

“They tell me you'll be arriving here today. I can't wait to see you, to touch your face. Zak, you're never leaving my side again, I swear.”

Zakariah swallowed, it seemed, for the first time ever. “Tell me something no one else knows, Mia.”

“What?”

“I need something to verify the communication.”

Mia's image flickered, grim now and threatened. “Are we in trouble, Zak? Is something wrong?”

“Tell me something no one else knows!” he shouted.

Helena stepped back in alarm, and nearby eyes turned to note the disturbance.

Zakariah clenched his teeth in frustration. His fingers clamped on the handheld as though it were the rung of a ladder. His nightmare had come true, and he hung aloft above a boiling cauldron of deceit and guile, a soul-swallowing infernal pit of darkness.

“I fell asleep early on our wedding night,” came the reply from across the starry night of space. “I had a glass of champagne at the reception and slept till morning. It's me, Zak. What's going on?”

All the fight drained out of Zakariah like water circling down a drain. He hung his head and felt his body contract in surrender as he hunched over the vidscreen sadly. “Nothing for you to worry about, honey. I was just heading home today, but I guess I have some unfinished business to attend to. I'll check in with you soon.”

He signed off and turned to Helena with an icy glare. “She won't be harmed,” he said.

“Of course not. She's an honoured guest.”

“Don't try to hide behind semantics. This is extortion, pure and simple.”

Helena shook her head. “Zak, I don't know what you're involved in, and, frankly, I don't want to hear the sordid details. You're a loose cannon, a cosmic cowboy. I wrote you off long ago. But know this: I did not betray you. If anything, you betrayed yourself. Whatever it is you must do, do it quickly and take your wife home.”

“Fine,” he said and cast his eyes down in defeat. “Take me back to Babylon.”

Rix idled his motorcycle at the curb in front of the
ERI
office tower. He peered up into the darkness, trying to make out movement on the rooftop. Niko had been in the building for exactly one hour, certainly long enough for her simple checklist. He tapped his V-net plug for the correct time:
1:45
flashed against the black sky in his field of vision. He was right on schedule.

A bare sliver of moon lit the rooftop. A blanket of rural silence seemed to amplify the sound of his bike. The
ERI
complex was way out in the sticks, surrounded by farmland for miles around. He smelled dung and strange pollen and wrinkled his nose in disgust. He would never get used to this terrible smell. Rix had always envisioned country life in romantic terms, cows in fragrant pastures and native beasts in frolic, but the aroma outside the city seemed fetid to him, wild and repulsive. He had grown up with the smell of concrete and hot asphalt and had known only spiders and rats and horny tomcats prowling the fences.

A blinking light caught his attention. One-two-three. He focused his attention to the left edge of the precipice above him. A black furl appeared, barely a shadow, a black bat in the darkness. Niko.

He squinted at the night, imagining her pantherlike grace as she stepped near the edge. His pulse beat a quick tempo as his body froze with a rush of endorphins.