DEVON, ALONE. PART IV - The Legacy of Tears.
by Nicole Mayer
09-03-1997
I am going to die. I know that now, and know that there is no
escape. When the Council wants you out of the way, it will happen
and there's not one damn thing anyone can do to stop them. No
matter how rich you are, or what your name is.
They are going to kill me. Silently, secretly, I expect. No
great news stories on the death of a problem citizen. In any case,
I am sure they control the media, just as they control everything
else. Not many are aware of this, for the Government seems to be
in power and the Council only a small division. But I know things
are changing, and soon the Council will overthrow all pretence of
the democratic society we once were, and seize absolute control.
I suppose the danger coming for me is my fault, in a way. If
I hadn't become involved in the Eden Project, if I hadn't tried so
hard to save Uly, and then...my overpowering rage at his death only
weeks ago as I swore to the Council that this would not stop me!
I *would* find a way to defeat the Syndrome, if not for my own son,
then for the millions of other children afflicted.
I know that the tyranny has to end sometime. That, in part, is
why they consider me so dangerous. Anyone with a new, radical idea
that gains support is already in trouble with the Council. They
believe they can control all of humanity, if not the universe, and
exercise this power in every way possible.
But now, I am greater threat to them. Because I *know*.
I *know* the Council's great secret. It was an accidental
stumbling on my part, I saw something I was never supposed to see.
Something that is never supposed to be revealed, for only those in
the highest positions of power share this knowledge.
A secret that, should it get out, would cause panic and riots
all over the stations, and perhaps even back on Earth. The very
foundations of our existence would be undermined, and our society
would perhaps collapse.
There is a part of me that is scared to see such a thing
happen, but I also believe in visionaries who will lead us to a
better future. Like my quest for planet G889. It seems like a
foolish dream, for now I know I will never see it, or at least not
for many years to come. I destroyed those chances when I
discovered the truth; though it may be true that I was never going
in the first place. The only hope now is if the Council is brought
down.
Tonight, I will seek out the proof. It is my last hope and
one salvation, for once the knowledge is out, I pray that the
Council will lose its desire to eliminate me as it rises to subdue
the waves of rebellion.
But they cannot win. Humanity is greater than a senseless mob
to be dictated to, and I am confident that we can rise against the
oppression! Freedom, equality, a chance for our children...I dream
of these things in Uly's memory.
Yet I am destined to die. Oh, they will not kill me outright,
no mysterious accidents, and no sudden diseases. It will be slow,
silent, and free of blame for them so they can rest easily on their
laurels built from lies.
If I fail tonight, I have left the following record for you so
that all hope is not lost. It is encrypted with the highest level
of coding, but you, Yale, should have little trouble deciphering
it. Remember the code we created when I was a child? I have many
happy memories of my childhood...but I digress. It is time to
concentrate on the present.
The message goes to you, wherever you may be, the instant my
persona is recorded as deceased within the Station database. I
entrust this information to you, and believe you will find the
people to continue my work.
I understand it will be hard, so Yale, I ask that you keep
yourself safe. You have many enemies, those who want to have you
killed simply because of what you are. Now I know this feeling
well.
Please, get the information to those who can help, and those
who can discover the final proof. There must be others out there,
perhaps disgruntled citizens, or even immigrant workers. Humanity
cannot be defeated!
Yale, I want to thank you for being my trusted friend and
confidant over the years of service to my family. You made a
wonderful difference to the life of a lonely little girl, and were
always there for me when I needed a friend.
You supported me through the anguish of the trial eight years
ago, and then stood by my decisions to keep my son. Without you,
I don't know if I could have done it all.
I thank you for everything, and I know Uly, wherever he may be
now, thanks you as well. We love you from the bottom of our
hearts. I am just sorry that it all ended this way.
Believe in the future, and keep up hope!
All my love,
Devon Adair
April 3, 2292
***Transmission follows***
***
Yale was reeling. The personal message he just received was
more than two years old. Two years full of mysteries, confusion
and sadness as the Devon Adair he once loved as a daughter seemed
to completely cut herself off from him. Two years, when she
suddenly seemed to give up on the Eden Project, and resigned
herself to a mission in virtual reality.
He had assumed that was the end of their relationship, and he
could never forget the cruel words she had hurled at him, telling
him to stay out of her life forever! But a new enigma had arisen
when she recently sought him out after her experience in VR : the
Program which had so shaken her.
And now this, a letter from the Devon he remembered. And a
vitally important encrypted message. What did it all mean? Was it
even relevant anymore?
Yale reread a crucial sentence. The message was only to be
delivered when Devon's death was recorded. Ice tore through his
heart, and, with as much haste as dignity allowed, he hurried to
the nearest computer terminal within the next room where he could
have some privacy. His young charges saw his hasty exit.
"Where are you going, Yale?" asked seven year old Tique. He
did not pause to answer the girl, but continued on. Yale's hands
were shaking as he drew up the latest records on Devon Adair.
"Deceased," said the little footnote at the bottom of the
screen. It seemed that the Council had finally caught up with her,
two years too late.
***
"John, I'm sorry. I should never have interfered in your
life, and I send apologies to Kassidy as well. May you both be
happy.
True, I wish you all the best of luck, and also for your quest
as well. Perhaps Morgan Martin can help, he is a Council liaison
officer yet I believe he can be changed if the circumstances are
right. And a warning, stay well away from Dison Blalock.
But I am not telling you what to do, I only wish you good
fortune. I love you, but that doesn't matter. Nothing really
matters anymore. I'm going to stay out of your life.
Goodbye,
Devon Adair.
April 10, 2294"
***
John Danziger silently pondered the message. It was a short,
sweet apology, yet inside, he was still a little angry with Devon
Adair. She had managed to screw up his life pretty good, and put
him through a lot of fear and worry. Even if he *had* gotten the
truth out of Devon, he was still concerned that she didn't know the
whole truth either.
Devon's mental health left a lot to be desired, and it was
more than possible that she had let things slip to the Council she
claimed to abhor. The note had been full of allusions, it
contained an indirect reference to his daughter that would mean
nothing to most people; and hints that she knew of the Resistance.
There was also the suggestion to contact Morgan Martin.
He wondered again about Devon's hatred for Blalock. From what
he could figure out, Devon'd only known the man once outside of her
screwy VR program where she fell in love with Danziger's image.
That meant that he could hopefully trust Devon that Blalock was bad
news. Danziger had suspected as much already.
There was a great deal at stake. Despite this, True's safety
was his number one priority in this mess Danziger had gotten
himself into. It would have been so much safer if he'd never
volunteered to lead the damn Rebellion against the Council.
He shuddered as he recalled the first death threat against his
daughter. It came from a spineless man who had been found out soon
afterwards, and dealt with in the drone fashion. Still, it had
been terribly frightening to realise that there were those amongst
his own ranks who believed that the Council was God, and anyone
against it belonged in hell.
They didn't dare oppose Danziger himself. He'd gained a lot
of support, and so had Kassidy, his wife. They were both tough and
could look out for themselves, having had years of experience.
True, however, was not so equipped to deal with the trying
situations that arose.
The worst fear, though, was of the Council itself discovering
Danziger's actions. They wouldn't hesitate to take his daughter
from him. He could envisage the situation even now - "This child
needs a stable home. She is malnourished, her education is
lacking, it is obvious she cannot live in this dysfunctional
household. Why, just look at the child and see how she resents her
stepmother!"
It would all be lies, of course, but who could stand up to the
Council's child services, sworn to protect all underprivileged
children? And when they had True, they also had Danziger himself.
He could not let that happen.
So they'd hidden True, and fabricated her death. Only a very
few knew that the girl was still alive - himself, Kassidy, and
special friends who helped hide her : Wentworth and Firestein. And
Devon Adair knew. Of course Devon Adair, the mysterious woman from
hell.
Danziger abruptly laughed at his own thoughts. He didn't hate
Devon, far from it. In fact, he had quite liked her initially.
But she needed help. Help Danziger was not sure he could provide.
He recalled their last meeting, perhaps their final one, which had
ended in a screaming match before he walked out.
Yet the apology was nice. Maybe he would look Devon up
sometime, and see if she'd managed to get her life together.
Danziger certainly hoped so. But she needed to be away from him
for a while, to get over him. It was senseless to have a
relationship built on a virtual simulation.
Danziger sighed, running his hands through his wild, curly
hair. Devon had affected him more than he realised, and in other
ways as well. He couldn't deny the fact that she was beautiful,
intelligent, easy to talk to - they had got along so well during
the moments when secrets were not an issue.
But he couldn't live with the friendship built on lies. So he
walked out, and now...now, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to
do.
"John?" a sweet voice called, and Danziger's spirits lifted a
little.
"In here, Kass," he replied to his wife. She stepped into
view, and he was again struck by her loveliness, which was so
different to Devon Adair's beauty. Kassidy Quinn was pure, honest,
and her eyes showed only truth. That was another reason why he
liked her so much - in a world of confusion and perversion, he
could always count on Kassidy to be sincere.
He showed Kassidy the message, and she gave a half smile.
"That was nice of her," she admitted. She'd heard all about her
husband's 'incident' with Devon Adair, and while furious with the
woman, Kassidy also felt a rush of compassion for her. To have a
whole other life torn away was inherently cruel. "I wonder what
she thought of me in her VR program," Kassidy mused.
"She called you Bess," remembered Danziger. "Said you were
married to some other person, although I can't quite remember the
name. It doesn't matter," he concluded, shaking his head. "We
need to get on with our lives, and," he dropped his voice to a
whisper, "the Resistance."
Kassidy idly tapped the data screen, highlighting the name
Morgan Martin. "Do we take Devon's advice? Do you think we can
trust this man?"
"I don't know," revealed Danziger. "It's worth a try, but I
have the feeling that I'm being watched. There's nothing they
could have that links me yet..."
"And we want to keep it that way," broke in Kassidy. "*I'll*
go meet him."
"Is that safe?" asked Danziger, suddenly anxious. He
fervently wished that he could keep all of his friends and loved
ones protected from the Council, and constantly found himself
knocking back Kassidy's ideas.
But they both realised they had a duty to perform. It was for
the greater good of all people, and they could only fervently hope
that the sacrifices they made would result in eventual success.
Someday...
"John, what Council member would suspect a sweet Earth girl?"
chided Kassidy. "I can turn on the charm just like that!"
He knew how well she could, for Danziger had been caught by her
charm several times back in the days just before they were married.
And afterward, as well.
Danziger sighed, knowing he couldn't tell Kassidy what she
could and couldn't do. She was her own person, something he had
sensed more and more often since she'd returned from the six month
mining expedition. They had both changed a lot.
But they were still together, they depended on each other and
found it hard to imagine life alone again. People needed people,
especially in times such as this.
Kassidy began a search on the computer. "Look, Morgan Martin
is in here. At level 3 bureaucrat, nothing noteworthy on his file,
so maybe his *is* a reliable contact."
Danziger placed his hands on his wife's shoulders as he leaned
over the top of her head to see the information. "Can you call up
a picture?" he asked.
Quickly, Kassidy complied, and smiled when she saw the image.
In a nondescript kind of way, this guy was cute! "He looks
normal," she hedged. "I don't see any outward signs of craziness!"
Kassidy laughed, but Danziger only grunted in response. "Looks
like a little weasel, if you ask me."
"Come on, John, you know you can't tell anything from a
picture. Morgan Martin might just turn out to be the break we
need."
"Hmm...you're right," conceded Danziger, knowing that his
battle had been lost from the start. "But be careful when you
contact him, Kass. Don't give anything away."
"I won't," she promised. Tossing her wild, curly hair, she
cleared the screen and removed all traces of their unauthorised
search into Council records, something that Kassidy was somewhat
expert at.
Danziger's stomach suddenly rumbled, loudly, embarrassingly,
and they both laughed. "Sounds like you forgot to eat today,"
grinned Kassidy.
"Yeah," he admitted, but did not offer any explanation. For
his mind had been on Devon Adair almost every free moment he had.
***
Yale strode into the public relations office of the Council,
his mind fixed on one single purpose. He owed a lot to Devon
Adair, and one thing he could do was discover the truth.
"I need to speak to someone about the records of a friend of
mine. I believe there is a discrepancy."
"Name?" asked the bored attendant.
Yale gave his name, and his registration number, wishing that
he could have kept himself anonymous but realising that it was
impossible.
"And the name of this friend you're concerned about?"
"Devon Adair," Yale replied distinctly, watching the attendant key
in the words. A soft, alert beep sounded, and the attendant looked
up in surprise.
"There seems to be, uh, specific instructions attached to this
record," he stammered. "I'll have to contact my superior. Won't
be long." The little man scurried out the back.
Yale gave a heavy sigh, and stepped back to wait. He'd often
encountered the endless running around in bureaucratic offices, and
suspected that he was in for a long delay. However, he was
pleasantly surprised to see the attendant reappear fairly soon.
His attitude was now much more defined. "I require the nature
of the inquiry," the man stated.
Yale was ready for this. "I decided to look up Devon, as she
is an old friend of mine. I was quite shocked to find a footnote
indicating that she is deceased; and thus decided to offer my
condolences to the family."
"And..."
"It is a little difficult," Yale began gravely, "to offer sympathy
when there is no mention of how, or even when, she died. I fear
your records are missing this vital information."
The attendant brought up the record himself, and was visibly
surprised at the sketchy records. "I am sorry, I cannot offer you
an explanation."
"Can you tell me when it was recorded that she died, at least?"
asked Yale, more than a little frustrated.
"No, that's not here either..."
"Then I wish to enter a formal search request," Yale
interrupted. I feel it is my right and obligation, as a friend of
both Ms Adair and her family, to eradicate the errors."
"It may take some time to process your request," hedged the
attendant. "The Council is a very busy organisation..."
"I understand that," conceded the old cyborg. "However, I do
not believe the Adair family would be too happy to realise that
Devon has, in essence, been lost..."
The attendant swallowed. He knew the Council abhorred the big
name families, for many of them were difficult to control; and an
incident such as this would not look good on his record. It wasn't
the attendant's fault, but the Council always seemed to blame the
underling. It was a way of life.
"I will see to it that the problem is fixed," the attendant
promised.
"Thank you," replied Yale, hoping that the man was telling the
truth. "I look forward to hearing from the Council regarding this
matter."
The old man walked from the room, a sadness in his heart.
There was still the possibility that the Council was in error, and
Devon Adair was alive and well. But she had not answered any of
the messages he'd sent her, and things seemed grimmer every day.
Devon Adair, a glowing flame part of so many lives, may have been
finally blown out.
***
"Devon? Uh, hi. I was just, well, wondering how you're
doing. Hope you're okay and all that, and, uh, thanks for the
message the other day. Well, um, see you around, okay?"
Danziger signed off, and hoped he hadn't come across as too
much of a fool. In a way, he was glad that Devon wasn't home to
receive his message because it saved him the difficulty of facing
her again. However, he'd been compelled to leave a visual message,
just so she could see that he didn't hate her. Notes, in
Danziger's opinion, were too impersonal.
Yet he also hoped she didn't get the wrong idea. Or did he?
Was friendship with Devon such a bad idea? He didn't know, but he
felt better having reached out to her. Danziger irrationally hoped
she would call back soon.
***
Blalock swore, and kicked his foot against the wall. How had
the Council managed to dump this on *him*, and just as he believed
he was gaining their long overdue respect! He let loose another
profanity, but his foot hurt too much to contemplate venting more
of his anger on the undeserving furniture. "They really should
make softer walls," he fumed.
Just as he believed he was rid of Devon Adair, once and for
all, along came a request to rectify a potentially embarrassing
situation for the Council. Somehow, the woman had been registered
as dead.
It wasn't even human error, it was some buried computer sub-
routine that had added the note even though there was no definable
reason for it to do so. And strangely, Devon Adair was truly
missing.
Had someone killed her, and anonymously tipped off the
computer? No, that was a stupid idea, Blalock decided. People
didn't tip off computers, and in any case, this subroutine that had
suddenly reared its head was at least two years old.
Blalock entered the new permission codes that came with his
recent promotion. Now he was able to search deeper into the
database, although he didn't really believe it would turn up
anything. All recent information, especially that pertaining to
deaths (and times of death, at least!) should be freely available
to those with even minimal access.
The computer beeped, attracting Blalock's attention. "Match
found." He studied the information, heaving a sigh of relief.
They had a body.
*That*, at least, should keep the Adair family and Yale at bay,
if only temporarily. Proof that she was dead, even if the how and
why were still a mystery. The corpse was in what was commonly
known as 'the freezer', a place where bodies were stored if they
were under investigation, or the Council had an interest in the
person in question.
Blalock had heard rumours that the body of the first president
of the Council still remained on ice, just waiting for the day they
had the technology to bring someone back. Blalock shivered. Even
with the recent advances in VR technology, mind copying, and
growing cloned organs, they were still a long way from bringing
someone back from the dead. For that, he was glad.
Suddenly, Blalock laughed aloud. "Devon Adair, on ice," he
chortled. "Serves the bitch right."
***
"Devon? Uh, hi. I was wondering if you got my last message,
seeing as you didn't get back to me.
"If you want me to stay out of your life, well, that's fine,
but I guess I care about you. As a friend, that is, but I just
wanna know if you're okay."
Danziger paused, hating the message recorder even more with
every passing second. "Well, that's about all, I guess. Hope to
hear from you soon. Bye..."
He turned off the terminal, and sank into his couch. Devon
Adair haunted him, and he couldn't shake the final image of her
tearstained, anguished face as he had walked out.
*It was for the best* he reminded himself. So why did he feel
a sense of guilt now? He didn't owe her anything at all. Not yet,
anyway. Kassidy was meeting with Morgan Martin later that day, and
Danziger tried to quell a growing anxiousness inside.
He sighed, looking at the time. What a way to spend one of
his rare days off. He supposed he should be doing something more
constructive than sitting around worrying about Kassidy and Devon,
but he couldn't quite bring himself to start anything. It was true
that the Resistance always needed attention, although at the moment
there were no urgent demands. They were gathering forces in secret
for when the time was right, and searching for a powerful ally or
weapon.
Sighing, Danziger wished for the days when the Council was
only a minor faction of the government - a name that was foreign to
most. Yet, somehow, the Council had grown, feeding on corruption
and lies until they held most of humanity in their grip. It was a
sobering thought.
Danziger allowed his mind to drift back to his last day off,
the beach trip with Devon Adair. Never had he seen a more
beautiful place than that holographic planet. No wonder Devon had
so desperately believed that it was real - it was a wonderful
illusion away from the depressing life on the stations.
The door chime sounded, and Danziger jumped. He didn't
encourage his 'associates' within the Resistance to drop by, and he
knew for a fact that most of his friends were at work. In that
case, would the Council just walk up to his door? He activated the
voice panel (drones couldn't afford visual screens on their home
entrances).
"Yes?" he asked warily.
The voice that replied was smooth and cultivated. "I am
seeking Mr John Danziger. I have a message for him."
Danziger paused, unsure of how to continue. "Uh, you can give
me the message and I'll pass it on to him," he hedged.
Quietly, but firmly, the person replied, "I think it is prudent
of me to give it to Mr Danziger only."
"Where are you from? Who sent you?" snapped Danziger.
"The message is from a mutual associate, a Ms Devon Adair."
Devon. Instantly, Danziger keyed the door open to greet the
mysterious messenger.
He took a step back at the sight of the imposing form on his
doorstep. Noticing the patch on the man's temple, Danziger
realised he was a Yale unit, and wondered how it had managed to
avoid termination during the war against cyborg technology a few
years earlier.
Yale held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Sir, I am only
here delivering a message. I will not cause any harm to you."
Danziger nodded, and stepped inside, motioning Yale to follow
him. As covertly as possible, Danziger positioned himself close by
his hidden weapon near the table, just in case.
The door slid shut behind Yale, and he began to speak. "Are
you Mr Danziger?" he asked bluntly.
"Who wants to know?" he shot back. "Are you with the
Council?" Danziger realised that the cyborg probably wasn't,
because a Council member would know without question exactly who
Danziger was.
Yale gave a slow, rare smile. "I can assure you, I am not
from the Council, nor do I have any desire to become associated
with them. I am merely a messenger."
Danziger was inclined to believe the cyborg, for there was
something in his tone and mannerisms that inspired trust.
"But, before we go one," Yale suddenly cautioned, "I must know
more of your relationship with Ms Adair."
"How about you go first," countered Danziger. "Why would she
send you to me, she never even mentioned you!"
"I fear Ms Adair has become involved in a great many secrets,
and was attempting to restrict the flow of information to protect
her friends," Yale said, hoping that Danziger was the contact he
could trust. The man was the only one Yale could find in Devon's
recent files with possible connections to an uprising against the
Council. Yale hoped he'd guessed correctly.
Nodding, but with suspicion, Danziger offered, "Devon and I
are, well, I suppose you could call us acquaintances."
Yale pondered the other man's words, and made an important
decision. The quarters were sparse, Danziger seemed to be a
typical drone, and if he *was* working for the Council, then surely
Yale would have seen some sign of it by now? So Yale would trust
Danziger. He just prayed that it was the right decision.
"If I told you I carried vital information pertaining to the
Council's reign, what would you say?"
Danziger stopped his restless shuffling for a moment. "I
would say," he said gravely, "that such information could be very
useful."
Yale slowly, carefully, passed Danziger a data chip. "Do not
allow this to be seen by anyone within the Council," he cautioned.
"Your life depends on it. Now, I must go. Do not attempt to
contact me at all." Yale turned and left the room, hoping that
he'd done the right thing.
Yale still had the original, encoded copy of the information,
and would endeavour to find others that could help in the quest
against the Council. John Danziger had been the first candidate,
for there were only a few others for Yale to consider. Time would
tell if the information had been correctly passed on. Yale could
only hope that he, too, would not vanish.
Danziger studied the chip with intense scrutiny. As far as he
could tell, it wasn't rigged to blow up or anything equally
destructive when he plugged it into a reader. He smiled, realising
what the information could mean.
Not only was it a new weapon against the Council, but it meant
that Devon wasn't ignoring his messages. Didn't it? Of course,
she couldn't contact him directly if her information was as
explosive as Yale appeared to consider it.
But what was Devon doing with such data anyway? When did she
get it? Danziger decided he should do some reading before
attempting to answer any of his own questions.
"The Council is no longer wholly human..."
***
Morgan Martin sat in his office, nervously folding and
unfolding his hands. He was terribly jumpy lately, and had every
reason to feel that way. But he didn't know why, and he didn't
know what was going on. He was afraid.
Strange things were happening within the Council, or perhaps
they had always been happening and he'd just never noticed. He was
beginning to regret his involvement in the Devon Adair situation.
It had seemed like a great chance for promotion, but now, now with
the frightening evidence of those who had gone before him, Morgan
just wanted to disappear back down into the world of the underlings
where he had been safely anonymous.
He gave an involuntary shiver as he remembered Dison Blalock.
Morgan had never liked the man, although they *had* tolerated each
other on occasion. When Blalock was demoted, Morgan silently
cheered.
However, three days ago, Morgan learned of Blalock's
reinstatement when he passed through Morgan's office. There was a
new determination about Blalock, and while Morgan welcomed the
absence of the expected snide comment, Blalock's robot like actions
had worried him a great deal. The man's eyes were empty.
For the next few days, Morgan had studied the faces of every
Council member he encountered. Those with similar, or lower
ranking than his own seemed perfectly fine and normal. But those
above him, in the positions of power, they...their eyes...were
empty.
Morgan wondered what it would be like to look upon the face of
the President of the Council, or one of those on the Board of
Directors. Would they, too, be strange and frightening? No one
ever saw them face to face, and now Morgan appreciated the fact
that it may have been one of these very people he reported to about
Devon Adair.
He hoped that they wouldn't contact him again about the woman.
Morgan wanted to disappear.
"Hello?" called a cheerful voice. Morgan almost hit the roof
in terror. *Breathe, Morgan, breathe* he coached himself. *It was
only a friendly greeting, they're *not* out to get you...*
He looked up towards the door, glad he had the lights on full.
A woman stood there, one with flowing, curly hair and mischievous
blue eyes. A new sensation began curling its way through Morgan.
She was beautiful.
"Ah, hello," Morgan finally replied, struggling to regain his
composure. He remembered his duties as a Council member and said,
in an extremely polite voice for him, "Can I help you?"
"I hope so," she said, entering the room and holding out her
hand. "I'm Kassidy Quinn."
"Morgan Martin," he automatically returned. "Level 3..." He
stopped, realising that he wasn't obligated to give out that
information. For so much of his life, he'd been proud of his
status, but now it was a dark part of his life. A *very* dark
part.
Kassidy seated herself in the chair opposite Morgan's desk.
"A mutual acquaintance suggested I get in touch with you," she
began with little hesitation.
Morgan gulped, wondering why he was suddenly the focus of so
many beautiful women and evil Council members. But upon glancing
into Kassidy's friendly face, he relaxed a little, feeling sure
that he could at least trust her.
"Why me?" Morgan asked, truly curious and silently thanking
the mysterious benefactor for this opportunity to meet Kassidy
Quinn.
Kassidy was prepared to neatly sidestep the question, but
suddenly found no need to. "I've been told that you're a man who
can be very 'helpful' in certain situations..."
"I am?" Morgan was really beginning to wish he could manage
more than two word responses, which clearly showed the effect that
Kassidy was having on him. When was the last time he'd had a date?
As delicately and diplomatically as possible, Kassidy began
telling Morgan the fabricated story of her inability to get a
message through to friends on Earth. "The Council seems to be
screening more and more lately, and it is *imperative* that I speak
to my father before he dies." She watched Morgan carefully, trying
to judge his reactions and the depth to which his loyalty lay.
However, there was something about his expression that -
intrigued her. And Morgan, too, found himself watching Kassidy as
she spoke. The way her mouth formed each and every word, although
he couldn't recall what was being said even if his life depended on
it. There was something about Kassidy that reminded him of
happiness, and a time of innocence before everything became so
complicated.
"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" Kassidy didn't
know whether to be amused or insulted. His gaze was more than a
little unnerving, yet there were other feelings to contend with,
some part of her that just wanted to reach out and protect him from
the dark...
Their eyes locked, and it was Kassidy who was the first to
turn away. She was here on business, that was what was important
now. So Morgan's next words completely floored her.
"Ah - would you like to join me for lunch?" he stammered.
Kassidy meant to say no, she really did, but was surprised to
hear a definite "yes" coming from her lips. Damn, what was it
about him? She quickly added, "I think you should know : I'm
married."
"So?" Morgan countered, hoping he wasn't being too presumptuous
but he couldn't let Kassidy go without getting to know her. And,
he vowed, he would do everything in his power to help her whenever
he discovered the truth behind her strange, yet fateful, appearance
at his door.
"Well, okay," relented Kassidy. "There's no harm in having
lunch together..." The latter comment was more to abate her own
worries rather than Morgan's. What if John got the wrong idea?
But he'd been paying too much attention to Devon recently, so
maybe, it was time for Kassidy to give him a taste of his own
medicine.
Morgan escorted Kassidy out, his fears temporarily forgotten.
He had an angel at his side and life was good.
***
There was a new addendum to Devon Adair's file. "Suicide" it
read. Yale's heart sank. The date was only four days ago. No
suspicious circumstances. They had found her body floating in
space, which had purely by chance drifted past a construction zone.
It was a hell of a coincidence.
Yale called up further information, and was this time rewarded.
"The deceased was known to be mentally unstable following a
difficult experience in Virtual Reality, to which she had agreed.
It is the belief of this coroner that she was unable to deal with
her new life despite the best intents of the Council to help her.
***Note: Devon Adair herself refused ongoing psychiatric
counselling provided by the Council. The Council cannot be held
responsible for this apparent oversight into her condition. ***"
Yale let out an angry exclamation at the extra notation. It
seemed the Council was anxious to remain blameless of the whole
event, but this only served to fuel Yale's suspicion. He read on.
"Video surveillance puts the deceased heading towards a docking
bay only minutes before death. It is the opinion of this coroner
that the deceased intentionally positioned herself by an automated
airlock, thus allowing herself to be 'blown' into space."
Sitting back, Yale was disgusted with the report. It babbled
on for several more sentences, which revealed nothing more. Who
had written such an appalling article? It didn't conform to any
standards he knew of for writing such a report, and Yale suspected
that it had been quickly written by some Council member to keep
Yale's investigation at bay.
He considered contacting the Adair family. That would help
matters somewhat. Even though Devon was regarded as the estranged
daughter, obvious by the fact that there was no contact between
Devon and her father, the Adairs would not let her death go
unnoticed. Family troubles were put aside when the great Adair
name was threatened.
How would the Adairs react to the news of suicide? If Devon
had died in any suspicious circumstances at all, a full scale
investigation would be underway and even the Council would have a
hard time keeping itself clean. Yet a clear-cut suicide...by the
crazy daughter...that would be swept away under the rug.
But it wasn't clear-cut. Heaviness growing in his heart, Yale
knew what he had to do next. He had to go and, and - see Devon's
body for himself. The thought pained him, yet he knew that he was
one of the few people could determine if her stated cause of death
was the truth. Then, perhaps, both Yale and Devon could have a
little more peace, wherever their souls may be.
***
"Kass, you're not going to believe this!" shouted Danziger the
instant she walked through the door. "We've almost got it, we've
almost got the Council!"
Kassidy, too, was in a great mood after her lunch (and
afternoon) with the Council bureaucrat. "John, you should meet
Morgan. He's great!" she announced with just as much enthusiasm.
Once they'd overcome the initial awkwardness, Kassidy and Morgan
had been able to talk for hours. And when she mentioned Devon's
name, it was obvious that Morgan was aware of her connections to a
Council conspiracy.
But Danziger was more interested in his own news. "Come read
this. It'll blow your mind."
"Oh, okay," Kassidy sighed, annoyed with Danziger for ignoring
her, but crossing the room to him anyway. She pursed her lips as
he went on.
"We've finally got it, Kass, the information to blow the lid
off the Council. I can't believe it!"
Danziger's unnatural excitement piqued Kassidy's curiosity.
"Where did you get it?" she asked.
"Devon Adair," replied Danziger.
"Oh, so she hasn't cut herself off after all?"
"No, well, maybe..." Danziger realised. Hell, he had a lot to
think about. But Devon could wait.
In his excitement, Danziger mis-entered the commands to bring
up the information file. Instead, a very different message came to
light.
"Dear Clients, the second and final payment for your marriage
contract is due..."
"What the hell is this?" Danziger snapped, whirling to face
Kassidy. Her face fell as she realised what he was looking at.
"Oh, that..." she said weakly. "I guess I forgot to tell you..."
"You forgot to tell me that our contract's gonna expire?"
Danziger shouted incredulously. He checked the dates in the
letter. "We've got ten days to renew!"
"I know," said Kassidy softly. "I'm sorry, I just didn't
think to mention it with everything else that's going on."
"So what, you were just gonna let it slide?" Danziger fumed.
"Without even consulting me?"
Kassidy had the decency to blush. "I didn't think about it,"
she admitted. "I didn't really want to think about it. Our lives
have changed so much since we got married. I mean, the Resistance
and all that, and then my mining trip...John, how much did you miss
me? Honestly?"
Danziger looked into her clear, blue eyes, and felt the
calming effect she always had on him. "Not as much as I thought I
would," he admitted. Slowly, he realised that he liked having
Kassidy *around* almost as much as he liked the woman herself. It
was a frightening thought.
"I had a great time when I was away," confessed Kassidy. "It
was then that I realised that, maybe, you and I have lost touch."
"Kass," Danziger said tenderly, "I'm sorry. We should have
worked this out a long time ago."
"When?" she suddenly burst out. "The instant I got back, Devon
Adair was invading our lives! And the Resistance, and our jobs,
visiting True...we never have any time to ourselves anymore."
Kassidy's eyes filled with tears.
"Hey," soothed Danziger, lifting a finger to Kassidy's cheek.
"We can get through this. I promise. I'll make time for you, I
swear. We just have to finish this new stuff with the Resistance
first."
Kassidy sadly nodded. She knew how important the Resistance
was to everyone, and if it meant sacrificing her personal life
temporarily, then so be it.
"So what about the contract?" she asked dully.
Sighing, Danziger countered, "What do you want to do?" He was
giving her the chance to back away now, if she wanted. Kassidy
lifted her eyes to his, and admitted, "I don't know."
Her mind suddenly drifted to Morgan Martin, and she was
shocked by the sudden change of thoughts. What did *he* have to do
with anything? Another image flitted into her head - one of her
husband and Devon, and Kassidy's eyes narrowed.
"You love Devon Adair," she suddenly said.
"What?!"
Kassidy gasped. She hadn't meant to voice her thoughts aloud!
And did she really believe that about him? Could she live with
that?
"Nothing, John, I'm just so confused, there's too much going
on. You understand, don't you?" she begged.
Danziger abruptly strode across the room, away from her.
"Maybe we should discuss this later," he said, visibly upset with
Kassidy. "I need you to know where you stand."
He left the room, and Kassidy's eyes filled with tears. She
didn't want to drive her husband away. They were everything to
each other, and she loved him! Didn't she?
***
"Devon, that stuff you sent me - it was incredible! I'm going
to search out the proof we need, and then, well, who
knows. We just might have a chance!" enthused Danziger, smiling
into the message recorder.
Then his voice took on a serious tone. "I'm worried about
you, Devon. Please call, just to let me know that you're okay.
Then I'll leave you alone if that's what you want, I just hope
you're alright. Well, bye, I guess."
"John?" Kassidy's face appeared at the beginning of his first
recorded message. "I'm, um, I'm going on a trip. I suppose I
should have told you face to face, but with everything that's been
going on, I couldn't.
"We need some time apart," she bravely continued. "I need to
think a lot of things through, about us, and me, and how I really
feel about stuff that's going on right now.
"I'll try asking Morgan Martin about that...information...you
know, from Devon Adair?" Kassidy didn't dare say anything about it
in something as easily intercepted as a message. "And speaking of
Devon, John - it's obvious she means a lot to you. Whether that's
friendship, or something more, that's up to you to decide. And you
have to decide soon, because I can't live like this, and neither
can you."
Kassidy paused, her eyes drifting to a spot somewhere to the
left. "I also have a confession to make. Remember when you asked
me to dig up information on Devon, and see what we could find out
about her background? Well, I was, mmm, jealous of your interest.
So I didn't tell you everything.
"Devon had every right to be emotionally unstable. She went
through so much pain just before you met her. You know all about
the VR program, but not about what happened afterwards."
Taking a deep breath, Kassidy went on. "She was almost raped
and killed by Dison Blalock. Except it ended up that *Devon* was
the one on trial because of the nature of the crimescene. She was
kept in solitary confinement for months before and after, and,"
Kassidy's eyes flashed angrily, "that is the most terrible,
inhumane form of punishment there is. Imagine, being so alone..."
The woman paused to collect her thoughts. "You can read the
trial reports in the computer, I've unlocked them now," she
admitted. "I believe Devon's statement, not only because I don't
trust Blalock, but because you can hear the truth in her words.
She was hurting a lot."
Suddenly, tears of remorse appeared in Kassidy's eyes. "It
could be my fault that she got even worse! If I'd told you this in
the first place, you would have been a lot more understanding and,
well, this whole mess might never have happened."
"It's not your fault, Kass," Danziger whispered softly to the
recording. "The stuff with Devon didn't *cause* our personal
problems, she just helped bring them to a head."
The recorded Kassidy sniffed, and ducked her head. "I loved
you, John. But I don't know if I can still say that. Everything
changed when I got back from the mining trip and my life's been too
confused. I need a break to do some thinking.
"But I still care for you a great deal," Kassidy reminded him
through her tears. "I'll see you, well, when I see you." Kassidy
smiled sadly, and the message ended.
***
Morgan Martin wasn't the only jumpy one walking the offices of
the Council. As John Danziger strode through the corridors, he
felt the eyes of everyone on him, and wondered just how many of
these workers were *them*. The Replicas.
In the past few days, Danziger had managed to push the
situation with Kassidy from his mind. He didn't know what to
think, and decided to avoid the subject altogether while he worked
with the Resistance. With the new information they had, a
confrontation seemed so very close!
He was still shocked by the content of Devon's message.
According to her, the Council had eradicated the problem of keeping
its workers loyal by simply disposing of the real people, and
replacing them with Replicas.
Danziger now knew that the Council, and therefore everything,
was controlled by only two or three people : the president of the
Council, and his trusted allies. The board of directors was
nothing more than a sham, because these people controlled the
directors completely. And others down the rankings - anyone at all
in a position of power was either completely loyal, or dead.
A surge of anger rushed through Danziger's body. What gave
one person the right to control everything? He was suddenly glad
to have been born a drone, and advancing his way through the ranks
of the mechanics rather than politics. For if Danziger had been a
bureaucrat, he suspected he would have been replaced long ago.
The Replicas were the perfect employee. On the outside, they
appeared identical to the human counterparts from which their
bodies were cloned. The mind, too, was similar. The original's
mind had been copied just prior to their 'disposal', and then the
Council had their fun in programming out the distasteful
personality quirks and creating the perfect human machine.
So in essence, the Replicas were almost human.
John Danziger suddenly realised that *he* had been a guinea-
pig for the mind-copying process, and wished fervently that he
could take back that moment in time. The extra credits were worth
nothing when compared to the greater conspiracy at hand. And what
if there was a clone walking around with *his* mind...nah, that
idea was too bizarre to even contemplate. And too frightening.
Devon Adair had accidentally, and secretly, witnessed the
beginning of a Replica's life. Danziger recalled what she had
written, and shuddered.
"They injected something, some sort of microscopic probe, into
the cranium. And suddenly, the lump of cloned flesh woke up, and
she *was* the woman I knew. But there was a coldness in her
eyes..."
It was a coldness, an emptiness that Danziger was so aware of
now. He wondered if Devon saw it everywhere she went. Devon. He
was worried about her. Five calls had gone unanswered...and even
when Danziger stopped by her quarters, there was no one there.
Maybe the Council got to her.
Danziger was on his way right now to the records department,
to access information on Devon Adair. Her records were locked from
the drones (as was the case with most people) and a horrible fear
was growing inside John Danziger.
Crazy as their relationship had been, he missed her. A lot.
Devon, even with all her confusion and flaws, had brought something
new to his life and Danziger had gradually realised that he
*needed* to see her again.
A Council member rudely pushed past Danziger, interrupting his
train of thought. He grimaced, wishing for the day when all people
would get the respect they deserved. Including Devon.
He couldn't believe the way the Council - and Blalock - had
treated her. She *willingly* participated in their VR project, and
they had ended up abandoning her to a world of confusion and lies.
Danziger glanced up, and stopped. Striding towards him was
Dison Blalock. As the anger brewed within Danziger, an anger and
outrage at what had been done by *this* man to his Devon (my
Devon?), he couldn't help himself. He punched Blalock in the nose.
And it felt damn good.
A collective gasp seemed to echo throughout the corridor as
Blalock picked himself up from the floor, one hand over his
bloodied nose.
"What was that for?" asked Blalock, surprisingly calm and
controlled.
"*That*," hissed Danziger, "was for Devon Adair. I *know*
what you did to her, you monstrous..."
Blalock's face twisted into a grimace at the name and he
looked at the blood on his hands. All of a sudden, Blalock lunged
at Danziger, but the bigger man easily blocked his punch.
"Assaulting a Council Citizen...Devon Adair again...I'll have
you in court for this!" Blalock shouted in an attempt to sound
authorative, realising he had no hope of winning the fight.
Danziger ignored his words, and grabbed him by the collar
instead. "You stay the hell away from Devon Adair. You hear me?"
Inexplicably, and even while under Danziger's furious gaze,
Blalock began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" snarled Danziger, tightening his grip.
Blalock's merriment only continued.
"I said," Danziger repeated, "what's so funny?!" He punctuated
each word by shaking the little man.
Finally, Blalock told him. "Devon Adair," he gasped, "is
dead!"
Blalock was instantly dropped to the floor and Danziger stood
there, in stunned silence. *No, that's not true,* his mind
screamed. *That's impossible!*
"Oh God, Devon..." All rational thoughts flew from Danziger's
head as he whirled and raced back down the corridor, not caring who
he knocked aside. Now things were beginning to make sense - the
ignored messages, the truth of fearing the Council, the emptiness
he felt, and the terrible, consuming guilt of abandoning her when
she was hurting so badly...
"Devon!" he shouted, hammering on the door to her quarters.
To his surprise, the door slid open. It wasn't even locked. Fear
pounding in his heart, Danziger stepped inside and discovered that
nothing had changed. Nothing at all since the last time he'd been
there, save a fine layer of dust that lay over the room.
She was really gone.
***
The warning lights flickered, and the woman frowned. There
was another incident of aberrant behaviour in Citizen Blalock.
Something, or someone, was causing undesired emotional outbursts
within the subject, and this was very unfortunate. Perhaps Citizen
Blalock should be considered a failure, and dealt with as such.
The Council didn't want another situation like the last time, with
the Adair woman...
***
Danziger had been at Devon Adair's computer terminal for what
seemed hours. With a heavy heart, he studied Devon's records with
intense scrutiny and discovered the awful truth - she truly *was*
considered dead in the great database of the stations.
However, he refused to believe that it was suicide solely on
the Council's say so. Danziger *knew* that Devon had discovered
their secret, and if the bastards had killed her, there'd be hell
to pay. Danziger intended to make sure of that.
He punched the wall in anger, wishing desperately that it was
Blalock's head. There was no doubt in his mind that Blalock was a
Replica, and a recent one, at that. Devon's report had detailed
the absence of strong emotions within Replicas, although she
suspected there were occasional situations the original personality
could rear its head.
Like when Danziger had mentioned Devon to Blalock - his
reaction was anything but typical of a Replica.
The door behind him suddenly whooshed open, and Danziger
whirled to instantly crouch in a defensive position. But he
needn't have bothered, for the person who stepped inside was an
ally.
Yale.
Danziger awkwardly stood up, wondering what the cyborg would
think of his impulsive actions; and how he would explain his
presence inside Devon Adair's quarters. But the older man saved
him the trouble.
"Mr Danziger," Yale greeted. "I expected to find you here
sooner or later. It is a terrible tragedy indeed."
"How long have you known?" Danziger managed to say, his voice
strained as he was unwilling to accept Devon's death.
Yale sighed heavily. "That is the point of confusion. I
received the message, the one I passed on to you..." He broke off
as he remembered something. "Was the information useful?"
Danziger nodded vigorously. "It was more than I ever dreamed
we'd discover about the Council. I knew they were corrupt, but to
have gone to *this* extent simply to remain in control is
incredible."
"We live in a very dark time indeed," Yale said gravely. He
crossed the room to stand beside Danziger, the door gently closing
of its own accord. Yale noted that the man had been accessing
Devon's records, and the information pertaining to her 'suicide'
was currently on screen.
Danziger followed Yale's gaze, and sadly sighed. "I just
can't believe that she's gone," he said. "Everything's so
confusing...that fight we had the last time I saw her, and then
discovering that she was involved in a lot more than I thought, and
now...Yale," he said in a deadly serious tone, "do you think the
Council killed her?"
Yale glanced around intuitively, even though there shouldn't
have been anyone about to hear his next words. "I believe that is
a very real possibility. There are too many discrepancies in the
story."
Yale also had another theory concerning the enigma of Devon's
behaviour during the last two years, but he chose not to voice it
just yet. "Did you know that the suicide notice was only recorded
after I began to ask questions?" he continued.
Danziger shook his head, and Yale went on. "I have requested
to view her body. I am not a doctor, but I should be able to
ascertain how she died." Yale paused, and it was obvious that the
idea distressed him greatly.
"Let me come with you," jumped in Danziger. He didn't know why
he wanted to go see her...he'd had enough death in his life. But
there was something pulling at his heart - a combination of guilt,
regret, and sorrow. And he owed it to her to find the truth. For
with Devon's help, the Council could be conquered and it wasn't
fair that she would never see it.
***
Someone had been in his unit. Morgan Martin knew it the
moment he walked in the door. Nothing seemed to be out of place,
yet the sense of the intruder lingered, and Morgan feared that
probing fingers had touched every article he owned.
Nervously, Morgan checked each room although he knew that the
intruder would be long gone. Briefly, he considered the
possibilities of who had been there, and quickly discarded many of
them. Not a burglar - everything had been left in immaculate
condition, and the door showed no signs of tampering. No, this
reeked of an organised, systematic yet untraceable search. The
Council.
"This is bad, very bad..." Morgan muttered to himself as he
began to pace nervously. He was glad that nothing incriminating
was stored in his unit, in fact, Morgan had devoted most of his
life to staying as far as he could from trouble.
There was only one thing he had done (wait, make that two if
he considered the diplomatic affair where he'd accidentally knocked
his glass of wine all over the president of the outer
stations...oooh, bad memory there). Morgan shook his head, they
couldn't *possibly* be still holding that against him!
It had to be the alternative option - his foolish interest in
the affairs of Devon Adair. After Kassidy *what a beautiful name*
had approached him, Morgan's interest in Devon had been rekindled.
Devon sought him out, Kassidy sought him out, and then mentioned
Devon's name - there had to be some significant connection besides
the Council's obvious paranoia with the woman.
Morgan hadn't been surprised to discover her dead. What had
surprised him was his own reaction - he felt truly sad over the
loss. And as he began noting the discrepancies in the report, a
sense of injustice came over him and Morgan had vowed to keep an
eye on the situation. He had decided to try and prevent it from
happening again.
Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea after all. Devon's
movements had been tracked from the very beginning (the file on her
ran back several years, ever since the Eden Project was proposed).
Now Morgan realised that surely the Council would track anyone who
was tracking Devon.
And that meant him. Was he next on their list of problems to
deal with? Morgan wanted to run away and hide, but knew that he
couldn't. He didn't have anywhere to go, for the Council had been
his whole life.
***
Ironically, it was Dison Blalock who was assigned the duty of
escorting Danziger and Yale to 'the freezer'. Earlier, Danziger
had voiced his suspicions to Yale about Blalock being a Replica,
and the cyborg was inclined to agree with him.
However, there was still Blalock's emotional outburst at the
mention of Devon's name to consider. Perhaps the process of
creating Replicas wasn't yet perfect, and adverse reactions to
traumas of the past life could resurface. Yale decided that
whoever did this to Blalock was probably testing him in this
mediocre duty.
"Right this way," sneered Blalock, gesturing them through
sweeping metal doors. The temperature noticeably dropped, even
though the area was supposed to be acclimatised with the outside
corridors. Danziger involuntarily shivered. Perhaps it was the
great walls of steel that caused the foreboding atmosphere, or it
may have been the sense of death that permeated every part of the
room.
Although 'room' wasn't an adequate word to describe the
setting. 'Cavern' seemed so much more appropriate. It stretched
for kilometres in either direction, body upon body stored for who
knew what purpose. They were extremely lucky that Devon Adair's
body was still here, and not cremated as was the typical fashion
for death on the stations, because quite some time had passed since
Yale put in his initial request. Even in the most trying
circumstances, bureaucracy could be counted on to roll along in its
own inimitable fashion, caring little for the dignity of the
individual.
"To the left, please," Blalock directed, striding confidently
in front of the two men. Past the temporary section for recent
deaths, past the section with bodies still awaiting investigation,
and deep into the depths of the great grey world. This struck Yale
as quite odd.
Their footsteps echoed horribly in the eerie quiet of the
ultimate futuristic tomb. Finally, after what seemed an eternity
of travel through the cold world, Blalock paused in front of one
indistinct panel. He quickly keyed in an access code, and a
metallic slab slid out from the wall. Devon.
She lay like a princess preserved in the ice of eternity. Her
eyes, once so vividly blue, were closed to the greyness above and
for that both Yale and Danziger were glad. They did not know if
they could cope with seeing the emptiness within her soul.
Compelled, Danziger reached out to touch one fragile cheek.
She was so cold to his touch, so terribly cold and lifeless - she
was a porcelain doll which might crack at any moment.
Danziger was reluctant to move his eyes from that delicate
face, studying it in every detail. And although Yale had similar
qualms, he knew why he was there - to learn the truth. He forced
himself to visually examine the body (not Devon, he told himself -
he needed to professionally detach himself if he was going to get
any answers) and Yale was glad he had studied up on the injuries
received by rapid decompression.
There were traces of bruising along the major veins, but this
was difficult to appreciate as her body had been frozen for so
long. Likewise, any appreciable shades of sunburn from short, yet
direct exposure to the sun's deadly rays, could not be confirmed.
Or perhaps she had only floated in the dark side of the station's
shadow.
He looked for the signs of asphyxiation, which would have
caused her death. Covertly moving his hand over the body, for Yale
had incorporated a medical scanner into his arm, he noted a ragged
tear in her lungs. Yale frowned, for the rip seemed too...
penetrating...and... intrusive for simple suffocation.
Yale deepened the scan, to check her cellular readings. As
expected, there was some rupturing, but not nearly as much as he
would have expected. He was about to voice his findings and
suspicions to John Danziger, when he was rudely interrupted.
"Are you satisfied now?" Blalock asked impatiently, tapping
his foot as the forbidden emotions surfaced. A sudden internal
buzzing in Blalock's head caused the man to grasp at his temples in
pain, but Danziger didn't notice this. His attention was focussed
on Devon.
Ever so carefully, he tilted her chin towards him, so that he
could see her empty face clearly. Danziger frowned.
"That's not her." There was no question in his words, and no
doubt whatsoever.
"Excuse me?" blustered Blalock.
"This isn't Devon. I don't know *whose* body this is, and
it's a damn good copy, but it's not her." Danziger's voice was
low, but full of conviction as he looked to Yale for confirmation.
But it was a confirmation that was not forthcoming. Yale
adjusted his scanner to check her DNA, the very essence of each
person which could not be changed under any circumstances. "I'm
sorry, John, but this *is* Devon Adair's body."
"It can't be!" Danziger exploded. "I *know* Devon, I know
what she looks like! Could this be a clone?" he asked hopefully.
That would explain so much - and it would give so much promise. If
Devon had been captured by the Council... they might kill a clone
so that Devon's friends would stop following her trail! And only
then would Devon herself give in to their demands
But Yale shook his head. "There is always a slight trace
resonance from cloned cells, even when the subject is deceased."
John Danziger felt all fragments of hope leave him yet again, and
his knees weakened. He placed one hand on the metal slab to brace
himself, tortured eyes on the face of the woman who was called
Devon Adair.
The cyborg turned to coldly face Blalock. "There is no doubt
that this is Devon Adair, but she did not die of asphyxiation. She
was not jettisoned into a vacuum. I believe she was murdered."
Danziger took a step back, pure disgust and contempt towards
Blalock flowing from his eyes. However, Blalock did not flinch.
"Your assumptions are in error," he told Yale. "The Council
is meticulous when investigating deaths. We have surveillance
footage of *her* walking towards the docking bay!"
"It could be faked!" Danziger shouted, his emotions getting
the better of him.
"Are you calling me a liar?" Blalock asked, his voice becoming
dangerously low. "Because let me tell you, right now, that I
personally examined that footage when these absurd requests came
up. Can't you just accept the fact that Devon Adair was a stupid,
worthless excuse for a human being? She threw *herself* out of an
airlock! It wasn't the Council, it wasn't some great conspiracy.
She killed herself, and now we should be glad that she's gone."
Blalock began to laugh, almost maniacally. He clutched at his
head, a small moan escaping his lips before the laughter surged
back.
Yale stared at the man with a mixture of revulsion and pity.
Blalock fell to his knees, suddenly shouting, "Make it stop! Oh,
please, make it go away!" He was no longer laughing, but now
writhing in pain. Danziger lost the urge to punch him through the
wall into eternity, and watched, both intrigued and sickened by the
spectacle.
All of a sudden, three white suited figures entered the
cavern. They did not speak, but the stripes on their uniforms
clearly indicated their authority as Council medical staff. Dark
suited security personnel quickly followed the medics. Rapidly,
Blalock was hauled up from the ground and half-dragged away while
security turned its attention to Yale and Danziger. Obviously,
their time there was over.
Danziger turned as the capsule was returned to the wall. He
caught a last glimpse of the Devon who was not Devon and knew in
his heart that whoever she was, her body would not be here much
longer. Far too much had been said, and now the Council was aware
of their suspicions. There would be no more opportunity for proof.
Irrationally, Danziger whispered, "Goodbye," under his breath
as the crypt sealed shut with a resounding thud. Whoever she was,
she was truly gone forever.
***
"Kassidy!" Alex Wentworth's voice was high-strung and full of
anxiety. "I've been trying to reach you and John for days. Where
have you been?!"
Kassidy carelessly dropped her bag to the floor. She had
finally come home, but to an empty unit and a mountain load of
messages. She felt freer than she had in months, and finally ready
to tell John that she believed their relationship, as lovers, was
over.
But before she even had time to look around, the
communications panel had beeped with an urgent incoming call.
Kassidy abhorred wearing Gear, and had purposely left hers behind
when she left. Besides, Gear was generally only used during
military operations, or while out on the job. Only the paranoid
carried sets all the time.
Kassidy smiled at Alex with what she hoped was a reassuring
expression. "I've been on an expedition," she explained,
deliberately not elaborating.
However, Alex brushed aside her words. "Okay, fine, something
came up, but don't you know what this is doing to *her*?" By
'her', Alex obviously meant True Danziger. "I would have expected
you to be more considerate!"
Frowning, Kassidy said, "I don't understand."
"She's been expecting John, or you, since Monday! John
promised he'd come visit, but neither of you showed up."
"He didn't?" repeated Kassidy. Alex shook her head
vigorously. "No messages, nothing. It's like he disappeared from
the stations entirely."
Kassidy felt her knees buckle. "Oh no," she whispered. Her
face grew pale, and Alex noticed her reaction. "What?" she asked
anxiously. "You don't think..."
"What if *they* got to him?" she whispered, horrified at the
possibility. "They couldn't have!" Kassidy cried out, trying to
deny the possibility. Her next words were vicious, and Alex was
the unfortunate recipient of Kassidy's rare anger.
"What did the Resistance have him doing? Who was so *stupid*
as to go ahead with action? We needed to lie low for a while yet!"
In her fear and anger, Kassidy forgot the necessity of a secure
channel.
"Kass, listen!" shouted Alex. "We've done nothing! Whatever
he's got himself involved in, it wasn't *us*. He wouldn't put
everything at stake, and he wouldn't do something rash without at
least letting someone know first." Her voice took on a graver
tone. "Did he leave you a message?"
"I haven't even checked yet, you called just as I walked in the
door and realised that no one was here." Nervously, Kassidy's
fingers danced over the panel to manually scan through the list of
messages. "Nothing," she declared. "Where is he?!"
"It might just be a misunderstanding," Alex offered, but her
eyes clearly showed the concern her words attempted to hide. "He
could walk in any moment."
"No," Kassidy said sullenly, shaking her head. "He wouldn't
just take off. That's my department." She felt a sudden wave of
remorse for her actions. What had she been thinking, just walking
out like that? He was her *husband*, for better or for worse. "I
have to find him," she vowed. "If I lose him, I don't know what
I'll do."
"Take it easy, Kass," Alex cautioned. "Don't do anything
rash."
Kassidy nodded, her big blue eyes bright with unshed tears of
remorse and worry. "I'll let you know what I find out," she
promised. "Say hi to everyone for me." Kassidy closed the
connection, and immediately initiated a new call. If the Council
were involved, there was only one man she could ask to help her.
Morgan Martin.
***
Danziger slammed his fist against the wall, furious. He'd
been doing an awful lot of that lately, but this time felt
perfectly justified for his actions. This *room*, as they called
it, made a mockery of the justice system. For all intents and
purposes, it was a cell. And Danziger didn't even know what they
wanted with him - he'd barely seen anyone since he and Yale were
hustled away from Devon Adair's body.
"We have some questions for you," was all he'd been able to
get out of the security officers before they'd locked him away.
And since then, Danziger had been told over and over, "We're
terribly busy right now, but we will get to you when we can." He
was treated with contempt and disgust by the variety of personnel
who claimed to be 'caring for' him.
The mechanic had verbally protested over such treatment. "Am
I a prisoner?" he yelled the previous day.
"You are under investigation pertaining to the assault of a
Council member," he was finally told. Damn, why had he punched
Blalock? That was obviously the only thing they could pin on him,
and Danziger now knew that the Council only needed one reason, no
matter how insignificant, to pull anyone in for good.
He was worried about Yale. The cyborg's very existence was
illegal, and only the Adair family had managed to protect him all
these years. But now that he was under the employ of another
family, Danziger wondered if such loyalty would be forthcoming.
And there was the little matter of Yale's unauthorised scans of
Devon's body. With the treatment Danziger was now receiving, he
had no doubts that the Council was aware of their unofficial
investigation into her death.
He fought the urge to smack the wall of the 'cell' again,
mostly because his hands hurt. There wasn't a great deal to do in
the room of four white walls and not much else. Devon had also
spent days in one of these while on trial for attempted murder.
He almost laughed at that one. They'd both been in trouble
for injuring Dison Blalock. Didn't the Council get the hint - the
man was bad news.
Although if Blalock *was* now a Replica, then perhaps the
Council had realised that the original man wasn't worth having
around. A submissive Replica was so much easier to handle,
although *something* was obviously tampering with his programming
or trying to correct the errant emotions. Danziger himself had
seen evidence of that.
He remembered Blalock clutching at his head, and the confused
glassiness in the man's eyes. For some reason, the memory felt
familiar to Danziger. Almost as if he had seen it before,
happening to someone else... Danziger shook his head, knowing it
would come to him sooner or later.
The hesitant opening of the door jolted him from his reverie,
and a very unexpected person appeared.
"Morgan Martin?" asked Danziger, not entirely sure if he had
the name right. The other man nodded, and extended a hand, albeit
nervously. Morgan had been reviewing the security footage and had
every right to fear a caged John Danziger.
"I'm here on the request of Ms Kassidy Quinn," he began
formally. Danziger jumped up. Kassidy! That meant she was back!
He'd spent quite some time worrying about her - where she was, and
what she would do if she discovered he was missing. More than
that, he longed for her company.
"How is she?" Danziger asked.
"She's fine," reassured Morgan, and went on, "but she's
worried about you. Luckily, though, I was able to put her fears to
rest. You're in trouble, Mr Danziger, but not critically so."
Danziger asked the question that had been burning in his mind
ever since the bureaucrat walked in. "So what are my chances of
getting out of here?"
Morgan smiled, for this was his line of work. Slick
negotiations and working deals for the underlings were his forte,
and he could be extremely good at it when need be.
"I'm working on that right now," he said. "I'm sure I can cut
a deal for you."
"And what about Yale?" Danziger had to ask. In the short time
he'd known the cyborg, Danziger had developed an immense respect
for him.
Morgan momentarily paused before saying, "Ah, yes, the one you
were brought in with. Unfortunately, he is scheduled for
deactivation. Really, it should have happened years ago. I don't
know what the Council was thinking, having one of *those* still
operating. They're criminals, and who knows what a Yale could do
if they were free to roam the stations? I wouldn't want to get in
the way..."
"Martin," broke in Danziger, purposely omitting formality. He
struggled to hide the outrage in his voice. "The prejudice against
Yale units is highly outdated. This one that I know is perfectly
safe. I want you to tell Kassidy that, and do everything you can
to abort the termination."
Morgan paled. "I can't do that!" he stammered. "Don't you
know what that would do to *my* reputation? I'm hanging by a
thread as it is! If it were anyone but Kassidy, I wouldn't even be
here."
Wrong move. "What is it," Danziger asked, a dangerous note in
his voice, "that makes Kassidy so special?"
Morgan heard the challenge and decided to avoid it. "That
doesn't matter," he said. "We need to get you out of here before
it's too late. For me as well." His final words were a whisper,
and only then did Danziger notice the obvious fear in his eyes.
"What, you think they're gonna turn *you* into one of them?"
he goaded. Morgan visibly jumped.
"You know about that?!"
Danziger silently cursed the monitors he knew were witnessing
the encounter, so he covertly motioned for Morgan's legal pad.
Painstakingly he pointed out words (or letters) one by one, hoping
that the bureaucrat could keep track of the stilted message.
'Replicas. Council plot. Station domination. You next.'
Morgan's eyes widened as he began to appreciate just how
necessary it was to get Danziger, and Yale, out alive, especially
to save his own skin. Or more accurately, his own mind.
"I'll see what I can do," Morgan promised. "Now let's get
down to basics, beginning with Dison Blalock."
And Danziger told his story.
***
"John!" Kassidy shrieked happily, hurling herself across the
waiting room to embrace him and bury her face in his chest. "Oh
John, I was so worried...I'm sorry about everything...I love
you..." She hugged him tighter than ever.
Danziger was a little confused. He thought she was leaving
him, but her performance indicated a complete turnaround of her
emotions. He willingly hugged her back, excited and happy.
He was free. Morgan had managed to work a miracle, throwing
meticulous details to the Council and proving that they didn't have
a real case against him.
Yes, he had punched a Council member, there was no denying
that. Danziger faced a severe fine and a mandatory anti-violence
course for that one.
But of the other allegations...it was Yale who'd carried out
the scan on Devon's body. Danziger had, in Morgan's words, merely
wanted one last moment with a departed friend. Was that a crime?
Had the Council really become so ruthless?
And in the presence of the public (for many friends had
attended Danziger's preliminary hearing), the Council was eager to
cut off such allegations. "It was a misunderstanding," they
hastily revised. "Charge dropped."
Yale, however, was not so lucky. Sensing his own impending
doom, the cyborg had attempted to openly state his findings and as
a result was rapidly subdued. Morgan was working actively to avoid
his termination for as long as possible, and Danziger was praying
that the delay would hold until they could overthrow the Council.
Or die trying.
They were close now, and as Danziger held Kassidy in his arms,
he believed they could do almost anything. But there was still one
more thing to do before he could devote his life back to the
Resistance.
"I need to see Yale," was the first thing Danziger said when
Kassidy stepped back a little. Morgan was obviously surprised, the
shocked expression knocking the traces of jealousy at Kassidy's
reaction right from his face.
"John," (they were on first name basis by now) "that might not
be a good idea. I recommend you leave this place and lie low for
a while. The Council isn't convinced that you're innocent, and
while they can't come out and say anything, you can be sure they're
watching you."
"I don't care," said Danziger bitterly. "I need to talk to
him." So amidst vocal protests by both Kassidy and Morgan,
Danziger was granted his wish.
Yale looked old and tired, and it seemed that every year of his
extended life had caught up with him. Yet he still carried the
quiet dignity that set him apart from others, and the sense of a
man who had accepted his inevitable fate.
"I'm glad to see you, John," he said from his own small, white
room. Yale had recordings of old-style prisons with dirty grey
walls and decided they were infinitely preferable to the stark,
painful brilliance of cells of the present.
Danziger shuffled awkwardly on his feet, not quite knowing
what to say. He was going free, and Yale was scheduled to die. It
wasn't fair, especially since they had both been in on it. *But in
on what?* he shouted internally. *Trying to find out the truth?!*
Finally, Danziger spoke. "I'm sorry," he offered.
"Don't be," Yale replied. "Just continue the work. If we can
do that, then Devon's quest was not in vain. Someday, the truth
must come out."
"Devon," repeated Danziger. "Are you positive it wasn't a
clone we saw in the freezer?" But in his heart, he already knew
the answer would be no.
"It was her," Yale said gravely. "But there is one other
interesting fact I neglected to mention," he revealed. "I only
discovered it myself when reviewing the data. That body - Devon
Adair - has been dead for at least two years."
"What?" Danziger said even as his mind raced ahead. So if the
real Devon was murdered, two years ago...then who the hell had he
known?
"My God...She was a Replica!"
Devon Adair, the only one John Danziger had known, was a
Replica.
Finally, all the tiny signs added up. Her headaches, her
instability, her inability to deal with reality and her desperate
quest to find a place in life. From the very moment Danziger had
met who he thought was Devon Adair, it wasn't her. It was a
Council controlled clone.
"We didn't even know the same woman," Danziger numbly told
Yale, shocked. Danziger wondered to himself - how had he fallen
for a clone? (Had he really fallen for her?) Yes, he decided, she
was more important to him than he'd ever realised.
Danziger shook his head, suddenly afraid and then disgusted
with himself for his feelings. Devon (and he couldn't think of her
any other way) was *so* real. Her eyes hadn't been empty. How
could he believe that she was a Replica? He'd seen the life in her
eyes beyond the immense sorrow, and the fire in her heart that
spoke volumes to him.
And then Danziger thought of something that literally took his
breath away. "She could still be out there!" And if she was...the
Council could be in control. Devon had an implant in her head and
who knew what that did to her?
"We have to find her," Danziger vowed. He wondered if they
could remove the implant, and give Devon the Replica the
opportunity to live as a true human being. How long had the
Replica been alive? Two years, Danziger realised, two agonising
years when they tested her through every means possible, including
the Program. Two years to make sure that the information Devon had
never got out, while the Council remained blameless of her death.
The analytical part of Danziger's mind realised Devon would be
the perfect evidence to confront the Council - if he wanted to put
her through the trauma.
There were so many possibilities. But he couldn't concentrate
right now, for Danziger's heart was singing with the news that
Devon could still be alive! He barely heard the robotic voices of
security personnel escorting him from the room saying, "Ignore the
words of the Yale. You are not permitted further contact."
Devon...if only she was alive...
***
There was a frantic hammering on the door, and both Kassidy
and Danziger jumped. Kassidy had been contentedly curled up in her
husband's arms on the couch as they celebrated his freedom. Her
own emotions were confusing her greatly - sometimes (like right
now) she believed she loved John more than anyone else in the
universe. And other times, well, she *had* been prepared to say
goodbye before she found out that he had been arrested.
Kassidy lazily extracted herself from Danziger's arms and
wearily walked to the door, wincing as the drumming noise repeated
itself. Morgan stood outside.
"You've got to help me!" he near-shrieked as he threw himself
through the door in terror. "Quick, close it, I can't let anyone
know where I am..."
"Morgan," said Kassidy in her best speaking-to-a-child voice,
"what's wrong?"
"Everything," he moaned, grabbing a chair and flopping into
it. "They're after me, and I didn't know where else to go."
Morgan buried his face in his hands and pulled his hair loose from
the restricting Council standard.
"Nice to see you too," grunted Danziger sarcastically, but
Morgan didn't even notice.
"They're going to promote me!" Morgan wailed. "You know what
that means, don't you? That's it! The end! I'll be *cloned*!"
Kassidy had told him what they knew, and Morgan had covertly
attempted to dig up information. But now it seemed as if his
attempts had been traced.
"I'm supposed to fill Blalock's old position," Morgan babbled.
"Did you know that he's dead?"
A smile slipped past Danziger's lips which he quickly
smothered. No matter how much he disliked Blalock, he couldn't
laugh at his death. "What was it?" Danziger asked.
"A rare condition that supposedly fuses neural pathways. In
other words, he was brain dead." Morgan shivered, realising how
easy it would be for the Council to destroy part of someone's
brain, and the task would be even easier if the subject were a
Replica.
"How do you know they're going to turn you into a Replica?"
Kassidy asked reasonably.
"They had me handling what they call the "Devon Adair
Situation". I suppose I went too far in pointing out the
inaccuracies, and my superiors didn't like me highlighting the
mistakes. Then I discovered that the incident was a rare yet
complicated error on their part, and they needed me to ensure that
it won't happen again," Morgan explained.
Danziger was suddenly very interested. "What won't happen
again?"
Morgan took a deep breath. "With the first wave of Replicas,
their implants were designed to constantly update their status in
the Council's database."
"You actually found this out?" Kassidy was incredulous,
Morgan must have been a better computer hacker than even *she* was.
He nodded dolefully. "I didn't cover my tracks well enough.
And that's how I know they're going to kill me!" Morgan anxiously
wrung his hands together. "The Board of Directors personally
invited me to meet with them, for a special 'briefing' on the
Replica situation. They know that I know, and they know I'm
connected with you."
"The Council knows everything, huh Morgan?" Danziger
attempted levity, but it didn't quite come off. Kassidy's eyes
were more serious, and she gently patted Morgan's arm.
"I believe you, Morgan. We can hide you, I promise."
Morgan relaxed a fraction. "Thank you," he said, his voice
containing a hint of relief. "I knew I could count on you, Kass."
It might have been a beautiful moment between them had not
Danziger jumped back into the conversation.
"What else do you know about the implants?"
"The implants...oh yes, the implants. The situation with
Devon was such a mess because once a Replica dies, the old implants
send out a message recording the subject as dead. But the Council
didn't have a body! No one did, and questions were coming in
regarding her status."
Danziger nodded slowly, feeling a dark gloom creep back over
him. "So they concocted the story, and showed us the body of the
original Devon..."
"Not quite," corrected Morgan. "They found standard
surveillance footage of the Replica deliberately walking towards an
airlock. I think there was a gross miscommunication - the
department assigned to making Devon go crazy..."
"They had a whole department for that?!" angrily broke in
Danziger.
"Of course, they had to get rid of her somehow. She was the
most unstable Replica they'd ever encountered, and couldn't trust
her to function for the Council at all. They couldn't kill her
outright, so they slowly, subtly tried to drive her over the edge.
Until she caused her *own* death."
"NO!" shouted Danziger, obviously in denial. Were his hopes
to be so cruelly dashed, only hours after discovering that Devon
could still be alive? "How can they ... it's not possible ...
would she *really* ..." He seemed at a loss for words, but Kassidy
understood his pain.
"There's nothing you could have done," she told her husband.
Danziger violently shook his head in response. "I *could* have
done something," he berated himself. "Instead, I just walked away,
saying that it wasn't my problem..."
"You didn't know!" protested Kassidy. "You can't blame
yourself for the influence the Council had on her mind - just look
at how real she believed you were from a VR program. She was in
love with an image!"
But Danziger appeared not to heed her words. Instead, he
turned to Morgan and demanded, "Give me everything you've got. The
security footage, the trace of her movements, everything! Maybe we
can still find her." He grimaced as the data showed only what he
had already been told - Devon, her face so haunted and her eyes so
empty, slowly and deliberately marching down a grey hall. She
really did it.
"It's the best way to lie...tell the truth, except for the
parts that really matter," Danziger said bitterly. "Morgan, Kass,
from this I can assume that Devon went out of airlock 36-9C.
That's on the dark side of the station."
Morgan was obviously waiting for further explanation as he
held out his hands in a 'so what?' gesture.
"The Council didn't find her body yet," Danziger said, a quiet
determination in his voice. "They probably didn't even bother
looking."
Morgan studied a schematic of the outer catwalks and ports of
the station. "If she went out there, chances of finding her are
near impossible," he said darkly. "It's been too long since she
went missing."
"But we can try!" Danziger said vehemently. "She gave her own
life for so many other people, and that deserves more than floating
through space forever." Obviously in deep thought, Danziger began
to verbalise his ideas. "We'd need something that could latch on
to a body, but gently, wouldn't want it to shatter..."
"And then what?" broke in Kassidy, her voice unnaturally high.
"I know you feel obligated to help her, but John, there's nothing
you can do anymore."
"It's an impossible task," agreed Morgan. "I'm sorry."
Danziger sighed heavily, shaking his head of golden curls.
"Damn, I just feel so useless. Devon Adair deserved more than
this, she fought for so long. If only I hadn't..."
Kassidy's eyes filled with tears as she watched her husband
torturing himself. "No, John, don't do this. You are not
responsible for her death, and you need to put it behind you."
Kassidy placed her arms around Danziger, hoping that he would relax
a little and begin to let go of his guilt.
"It was a tragedy of great proportions," said Morgan wisely,
having stopped his nervous fidgeting. He was terribly embarrassed
by his own part in the whole Devon Adair affair, and wished
fervently that he'd never become involved when his superiors asked
him. If only he'd had the nerve to stand up to them, then things
might have been different.
But that was the past. And no matter how much the three whose
lives were touched by Devon Adair wanted to change events, it was
too late. They couldn't go back, only forward with the memories.
***
John Danziger was walking down a hall, deep in thought. His
emotions were in turmoil and having Morgan temporarily staying in
his and Kassidy's unit didn't help matters much. They had to get
Morgan away soon, before the Council realised that their 'trusted'
bureaucrat had gone AWOL.
Danziger was clinging to Kassidy as if she were a lifeline,
for two major reasons. She helped to ease his guilt, and reminded
Danziger of who he was and how much each and every sacrifice
counted. Secondly, *he* wanted to keep her safe. He didn't know
if he could face losing her, either to the Council, or to the
waiting arms of Morgan Martin.
Danziger laughed bitterly. Morgan's interest in Kassidy was
blatantly obvious to him, and while Danziger had many reasons to
like and respect the man, he couldn't help but question Morgan's
motivations.
But thoughts like this weren't getting Danziger anywhere. He
sighed. How could he move on with his life, when nothing had truly
been resolved? How could he be expected to forget Devon Adair,
just like that? After all he now knew, Danziger had a higher
regard for Devon than anyone else he'd ever met. She was a true
hero.
He heard light footsteps, and wondered who else was walking
the deep corridors so late at night. Danziger had never been in
this part of the station before, but was investigating a new hiding
place for Morgan.
He looked up, and froze. It couldn't be. It was impossible.
Danziger blinked once, and then again, willing his mind to be
rational. There had to be thousands of dark haired women out
there. Hundreds who were that height, with that walk. It wasn't
her, it couldn't be. She was dead!
But Devon Adair kept walking towards him.
As if in a dream, Danziger stepped from the shadows. He saw
the look of surprise cross her face as he appeared in her path, and
held out one hand. "Devon..." he said.
She paused, and gave him an appraising glance. Her next words
nearly cut his heart to shreds.
"Do I know you?"
Danziger was stunned. How could she *not* know him? It was
impossible that she could forget, after everything she'd told
him... "Devon, it's me!" he said uselessly. Now he *knew* how she
had felt, chasing after Danziger himself when he didn't know Devon
at all. It was a complete role reversal, and Danziger was suddenly
afraid.
"I'm sorry, you must have me confused with someone else. Now
if you'll excuse me," Devon said hurriedly, and made to move off.
Danziger halted her with a hand on her arm as he stared into her
blue eyes. They were empty.
"What did they do to you?" he gasped, his voice full of
horror. "You're supposed to be dead!"
She laughed then, a chilling, mocking laugh as the face of
Blalock surged across her features. "She is dead!" said the evil
voice. "These are only my creations, they may have Devon's face,
but they belong to me!"
Danziger backed away. "No," he whispered. A third Devon?
Another Replica? "NO!" he shouted as the figure reached out to
grab him. A wave of fear assaulted Danziger, and he struggled to
free himself from the evil grasp. But fingers sharp as nails raked
down the back of his head, and Danziger could feel his own skull
being exposed.
"Seems like you've lost your mind, John," it laughed cruelly.
"Maybe *you* should become one of us!"
Danziger fought to get away, but things were crawling into his
head, or perhaps it was his own consciousness running away from
him, but the last thing he remembered was the empty eyes of the
evil thing who wasn't Devon...and then he woke up screaming.
"John!" Kassidy was shaking him, frightened by the obvious
intensity of Danziger's dream. Finally, his eyes popped open in
fright. Sweat drenched his body, and he was breathing heavily.
"Hell..."
Beginning to realise that it was only a nightmare, Danziger
put his head in his hands and groaned. "What a dream," he mumbled,
trying to shake the horrible images from his mind.
"It'll be alright, John, you're safe," crooned Kassidy while
stroking his head. She hadn't ever seen him have a nightmare like
this before and she was extremely worried. "Do you want to tell
me about it? Talking helps, you know."
"Nah," Danziger quickly said, beginning to feel embarrassed by
his performance. Never had a dream had such an impact on him.
"Just a stupid nightmare."
Kassidy took his face in her hands and forced him to look at
her. "Listen to me, John. You're under so much stress, and it's
probably manifesting itself through your dreams. Talk to me! We
can work through it together."
So, very reluctantly, Danziger told her.
"A third clone..." mused Kassidy. She had a sudden suspicion
on where that dream image had arisen from. "Have you thought about
that in real life?"
"I dunno, I guess I did think about it a little - I mean, a
copy of her mind would *have* to be stored in the computer
somewhere! My mind is. And so is yours." Kassidy shuddered at
the memory his words brought close - it was another regret of the
past.
"And what would you do, John? Could you really bring a clone
into this world? Could you keep doing this to the original Devon,
someone you never even knew?"
"I *did* know her!" Danziger protested. "And think...if we
did this, then she could live again..."
"...and we would be nothing to her," concluded Kassidy wisely.
"That's what your dream showed you. You have to let her go."
***
The problem with space was that the weather never changed.
It could be the most glorious day of a person's life, or the most
terrible, but none of this was ever reflected in the static
environment of the space stations. The sterile lights still glared
harshly, and the computer controlled day and night executed
themselves with perfect, unchanging precision. No one except those
affected would notice the sadness in the air.
Kassidy wistfully thought back to her days on Earth. Even in
a world so polluted and grey, she had still revelled in the
changing of the seasons. It wasn't much more than a slight hint on
the wind, but it had meant so much to her.
She would never forget the angry storms - the violent furies
that threatened to tear the world apart. Or the sultry, long days
of summer where even Earth herself seemed to be sleepy. But most
of all, Kassidy could not forget the rain.
Yes, it had been so dangerous as the poisons of centuries of
abuse took their revenge on humanity. However, this meant little
to Kassidy. She had always been intrigued by the uncanny ability
of rain to appear just when things were darkest to enhance the
gloomy mood.
It always rained at funerals. And that was why *this*
memorial service seemed so empty. There was no rain.
A light flickered incessantly, and Kassidy felt the sudden
urge to rip it from the wall. The light didn't care about death,
neither did the empty recycled air or the low hum of thousands of
minute machines working at keeping them all alive in the hostile
environment of space. There was little caring to be found anywhere
on the stations. Only three, three out of a population of
billions, were present at this service, although Yale had requested
they record it for him, just in case he ever had the opportunity to
see it.
The three stood by the viewport - John Danziger, Kassidy
Quinn, and Morgan Martin. A single imitation candle burned bright
as they each said a few words in memory of Devon Adair.
They had found no traces of her. Danziger knew he would
always listen to reports from teams working outside, just in case
someone, somehow, found her remains. But he had to let her go.
He still felt so terribly, terribly guilty. Knowing what he
knew now, that she was a clone being manipulated by the Council,
and that she had little control over her actions, Danziger wished
he had never lost his temper, and never told her to get out of his
life.
Because she had done just that. For everyone.
Devon'd had nothing, absolutely nothing, to live for. They
could all clearly see that now, and appreciate how the Council had
contributed to the raging battle in her mind.
Danziger admired her spirit for standing up to them for so
long. Her personality, though cloned, was fiery and vibrant as all
traces and memories of the *real* Devon Adair fought their way
through the programming and allowed her to live on. In Danziger's
mind, she was the only Devon he could ever imagine.
They no longer even considered the fact that she was a
Replica. Devon was the only known Replica to have been able to
stand up against the Council. And she had paid for it dearly -
being put through a year of hell in VR as the Council tried to
regain control, and then finally declared her a failure,
subsequently driving Devon to her death.
She had given so much of herself, and lost her life in the
process. When the truth about the Council was finally revealed,
Danziger, Morgan and Kassidy vowed that the public would learn of
Devon's sacrifice. They would make sure of it.
"I hope she's happy," concluded Morgan. Kassidy smiled
through her tears.
"I know she is." Kassidy closed her eyes, and imagined,
somewhere, she could hear a child's laughter, and the joyous voice
shouting, "Mom!" And tears of happiness as the mother found a part
of herself that she had lost.
But they were echoes of another place, one where the living
did not belong. She took John's hand on the left, and Morgan's
hand on the right. She did not know which hand would be hers to
hold in the future, but was confident that there *was* a future,
for all of them.
The three stared to the stars, and could almost see Devon's
image in the heavens. A light, and a hope for the future. She
would not be forgotten. And nevermore would she be alone.
***
...and so it continues...
Read the notes that accompany "The Legacy of Tears".
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