The Tabit Genesis (11 page)

The world was spinning as Travis led her to a room at the end of the hall. When the door slid open, a waft of sterile air with hints of antiseptic fragrance assaulted her sinuses; the only furniture inside was a lush bed with reflective comforters and dozens of pillows.

Her stomach churned, and for a moment she thought she might be sick.

His hand slid lower from her back.

‘Now,’ Travis said, ‘about your indiscretions …’

Viola froze in the doorway, muscles tight as steel, contemplating escape scenarios, when the voice of an old woman called out from behind them:

‘I’d move that hand away from there if I were you.’

Viola saw Travis tense up, gritting his teeth.

‘Cerlis,’ he hissed. ‘Did you just threaten me?’

‘No, that was advice,’ the woman said. ‘She’s not interested. Every guest here can see that. Isn’t that right, honey?’

Travis turned around, removing his hand. Viola followed suit, and was shocked to see Cerlis Tarkon, the CEO of Vulcan Dynamics, standing there with a tall, buxom blonde on each shoulder plus an entourage of security personnel behind her. Barely a metre and a half tall, she looked to be a century old. Yet her features were striking, and her posture was as rigid as the ladies glued to her hips.

‘This is my room,’ Travis snarled.

‘I outbid you for it,’ Cerlis said, stepping forward. ‘Seems you’re not on the best terms with the management in your own club, so they were more than happy to break the agreement. So if anyone’s panties drop in there, they’ll be mine. Miss Silveri, may I buy you a drink? I’d love to have your company.’

‘Um,’ Viola managed to say.

Cerlis read her thoughts.

‘This won’t hurt your career,’ she said, casually looking towards her entourage. ‘Will it, Mareck? Speak up now,
boy
. Damn club music makes it hard for an old lady to hear.’

Travis was standing perfectly straight, his expression impossible to read. But his eyes were simmering orbs radiating with malice.

‘Take care to remember our NDA,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Cerlis likes to intrude on matters that don’t concern her—’

‘Oh, fuck the formalities,’ Cerlis muttered, storming forward and taking Viola by the hand. ‘C’mon girl, let me show you a good time.’

Viola was yanked away from Travis, nearly tripping over her heels. Cerlis’s grip was a lot stronger than she expected.

‘I don’t want to cause any trouble, ma’am,’ Viola said.

The old woman gave her a scolding look.

‘What?’ Cerlis demanded. ‘Are you apologising for being
groped
? Bloody hell. You ought to be thanking me instead.’

‘Excuse me, I meant to thank you,’ Viola said, before suddenly remembering. ‘Oh my God, Carrie!’

‘She’s fine,’ Cerlis assured, hobbling back up the steps leading to the VIP area. ‘My people had her home safely before those two meatsacks knew what hit them.’

‘The bodyguards?’

‘If that’s what you call them,’ Cerlis said, as one of the blondes helped her onto a barstool. She looked like a child seated at the counter. ‘The shits used a synapse jammer on her, gave the poor thing a seizure. So we cranked the level up a few notches and turned it on them. Looks like they mutated a few genomes in the wrong direction now.
Bartender!
Do I need to show my tits to get a drink around here?’

Viola blushed scarlet as the blondes giggled. One of the scantily clad male bartenders rushed over.

‘Vodka, no ice,’ Cerlis snapped. ‘The lovely lady here will have a glass of water. And look here, you greasy pec moron, have someone else bring the drinks. If I catch you eavesdropping on our conversation I’ll have your balls stuffed into your ears. Got it?’

The bartender nodded eagerly and rushed off as Viola’s jaw dropped a few centimetres.

‘One of Merckon’s imbeciles,’ Cerlis said. ‘Most of the staff are augments, fitted with all kinds of sensory enhancing crap to make them better spies. Watch what you say around here. Everyone’s on a payroll and they’re all listening. My ladies here are running some interference of their own to make sure no one hears what I have to say.’

Cerlis pushed a pill towards Viola. ‘This will sober you up. Swallow it.’

The two blondes, Viola realised, were scanning the crowd. One beamed a smile at the waitress who brought the drinks.

Viola took the pill and chased it down with the water.

‘Let me explain something to you,’ Cerlis said. ‘When I was your age, women were worshipped. Not for our brains, mind you, but for our vaginas. And not because of what men like sticking in them, but for what comes out nine months later. When humanity faced extinction, anything with a uterus was sacred. Now, I’ve never met you before, but I know a consensual fling when I see one. That wasn’t. What Travis did back there would have got him killed on the spot. Today, I’m not even sure it gets him fined. Why did you let him do it?’

Viola shook her head, disgusted with herself.

‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly.

‘Makes two of us,’ Cerlis said, taking a gratuitous sip. ‘A strong woman like you should know better. That pig isn’t half the man who used to run Merckon. Times have changed, and not for the better. Looks like prosperity on the surface, but really we’re heading backwards. Your father would agree, I’m sure.’

‘You know him?’

‘I sure do, though he’d probably deny it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We worked together for decades and argued about everything. Smartest fool I ever met, he is. He chose to have one child, I chose to have ten. Mine all came out from between my legs. But you were born from a synthetic uterus, lucky you.’

Viola blinked.

‘Excuse me?’

‘What, he didn’t tell you? Well, isn’t
that
just like him.’

Either the pill was working very quickly, or the shock of what Cerlis Tarkon had just revealed had blasted the drunken fog away with sobering clarity.

‘You’re telling me I’m an
amniosynth
?’ Viola stammered.

‘Oh, stop acting like that surprises you,’ Cerlis waved, taking another sip. ‘You’re not just
any
old amniosynth dear. He’s treated you more like an experiment than a daughter your whole life. Don’t tell me otherwise, I know. Thanks to him, humanity doesn’t need a woman’s plumbing to procreate any more. So use that genetically polished IQ of yours and tell me you can’t fathom how your father and I might have our differences.’

‘My father made topsoil for Merckon,’ Viola said. ‘He doesn’t know anything about—’

‘The man crowned an empire,’ Cerlis said. ‘But if you think dirt was the only thing he could get his brain around, well then I’m a virgin. Honest.’

‘But what about my mother?’ Viola asked. ‘He told me she died when I was an infant.’

‘Laughably ironic, considering he invented the first artificial birth canal,’ Cerlis answered, ‘though you probably don’t see the humour.’

Viola’s head was spinning.

‘There are pictures of her … I saw videos of us …’

‘An actress in a tragically twisted script,’ Cerlis said, trading a sip and wink with one of the blondes. ‘I can arrange an introduction, if you like.’

The revelation was as poison to Viola.

‘Who else knows so much about my life?’ she fumed.

‘Does it matter?’ Cerlis said, frowning. ‘Anything lowly Travis knows, the highborns can find out. So you should just assume they already have. You’re on everyone’s radar, Viola. A new type of flower to bloom from your father’s mad experiment. Now Travis Mareck has your very special mind studying alien fish, which either confirms my suspicion that he’s an asshole or proves to everyone that he’s a genius.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because I’ll pay double whatever the twat is paying you, that’s why,’ Cerlis barked. ‘I know what
my
freighter brought to your front door earlier today. And thanks to your shitty booze tolerance, I know those things aren’t as dumb as they look.’

Cerlis finished the vodka and slammed the glass onto the bar.

‘
Bartender!
Fuck!’ she roared, pointing at it.

Viola rubbed her temples. This wasn’t the kind of night she had envisaged.

‘I heard the Vulcan properties on Hephaestus are nice,’ she mumbled, hoping for a change of topic. ‘What brings you to Merckon Prime?’

‘Meetings with Chancellor Jade and her party of misfits,’ Cerlis spat, as several Sirkus employees fumbled over each other to fetch the summoned drink. ‘That woman gives me cramps. By the way, it’s a shame you’re not gay, else I’d let you take one of my blondes for a ride.’

Viola gasped midway through a sip of water, some of which snorted out through her nostrils.

‘There are women lined up from here to Tau Ceti who want to meet you,’ Cerlis said, a fresh cocktail in her grasp. ‘What reason did that idiot boss of yours give for bringing you here?’

‘He said … or implied that I needed a break.’

‘Hmm, I’m sure. I really hope your effort yields something worthwhile, something that isn’t another
Archangel
. Christ,’ she muttered, downing half the glass. ‘You’re not an artist, are you? I mean, you’d agree that art is important, so allow me an analogy: like most art, the
Archangel
is culturally vital because it’s expensive shit that isn’t especially useful for anything except hanging around and being admired. Of course I’ve profited immensely from it, and so has Travis Mareck. But the difference is that he actually
likes
art, whereas I just dabble. Understand?’

‘No,’ Viola mumbled, completely spent.

Cerlis faced her and gently grasped her hands.

‘Viola,’ she said sincerely, transforming into a grandmother. ‘Your father was cruel, but he was right about two things: Travis Mareck, and your ability to do great things. If you believe so much in the Arkady, then I’m willing to accept that on merit alone. My employment offer stands indefinitely, and I suggest you give it serious thought before Travis puts you on a freighter. I’m a powerful woman, but I can’t promise you anything beyond the Belt. Understand?’

Viola nodded.

‘Then it was a pleasure meeting you, Doctor. My ladies will take you anywhere you need to go.’

‘Thank you, Miss Tarkon.’

‘Please, call me Cerlis,’ she said, with a hint of sadness. ‘There aren’t enough good people left who do.’

She always opened her eyes at 04:45, fifteen minutes before the alarm was set. The rays of the Orionis sun would not warm the halls of Tabit Prime for another hour, yet this was her time, a calming peace before the day’s storm. For Chancellor Vespa Jade, waking from slumber was slipping from one troubled fog into the next, where a hundred possible futures emerged from a tenuous present.

Sitting upright, she blinked at the blue iris on the ceiling, and said a word:

‘Record.’

And then she began mumbling, falling asleep again briefly but waking with a jolt, recalling all the things she had seen. It took nearly an hour to describe every detail, including the ambiguous and impossible dream sequences, as these were necessary to isolate the influence of her personal life on the visions that came to her in the night.

‘Stop,’ she commanded, abruptly realising that last night’s dreams were new. Different. Darker.

Something crucial had changed.

Vespa learned long ago to not take them literally. There was time to discern their meaning by searching for clues in the present. Caution was paramount. Rather than dwell on unlimited possibilities, she would step away from the future and let her mind wander. Clarity would eventually strike.

Blinking away the visions, she reached for a glass of water, wondering if it was originally the by-product of hydrogen reactors or distilled from a comet before reaching her lips. On Earth, water had come from rain, glaciers, streams, rivers, springs, aquifers, and wells – all plentiful once, until the wars made them vanish. Vespa appreciated these details because she believed there must always be someone in power who still did. Thousands of hours spent studying twenty-first-century Earth had instilled a nostalgic responsibility towards the people the Genesis ships had left behind. That hundred-year stretch of history was the turning point for humanity. Until then, not one generation considered water a precious resource. Those that came after killed for it.

The thought reminded her of the dreams from last night, making her wonder: what am I taking for granted today?
What could cause such darkness to spread over Orionis?

Vespa stood up and walked to the full-length mirror. Her hair was long and light brown, with streaks of grey prominent enough to draw attention from the rest of her ageing features. Subtle wrinkles spread from the corner of her azure-blue eyes, and darkened skin filled the bags beneath them. The slightest gap separated her two front teeth, presenting a smile that lingered with any new audience. Thin and gangly, her angular features gave her an androgynous appearance.

Vespa hardly recognised the person looking back at her. Such was the price of being Chancellor. On Earth, there had been mayors who ran cities as large as the entire population of Orionis. Her responsibility was colossally greater than theirs.

The dreams began when she was just a child. Her twin brother Arturus had shared them, and they often stayed awake together to avoid the startling visions they had no context for comprehending. By day they were downtrodden outcasts, often seen mumbling to themselves, delirious with fatigue and prophecy. Children mocked them, adults shunned them, instructors pitied them. They were assumed to be the victims of bad mutations, perhaps afflicted with schizophrenia. Had they not been firstborns, they would have been ghosts with no future, destined for a short and cruel life.

But their parents never gave up on them. Gabriel Jade was a political scientist; her husband Cyrus an intelligence analyst. Both worked for the government, and learned their trades from highborn parents who were experts in Earth history and helped write the Articles of Orionis – the founding charter of the colony. When they realised their children were experiencing dreams with a direct association to real events, they poured knowledge of human history into them. The more the twins learned, the more often they recognised the people and places in their visions. Soon after, Vespa and Arturus were ‘witnessing’ events that shaped the world they lived in, and then outcomes which had not yet occurred – but might well someday.

All along, it was the Gift whispering to them, and it was theirs to master as best they could – for the price of a childhood, friends, a good night’s rest, and, even on occasion, a conscience.

At 05:50, Vespa was dressed and walking through a long, winding hallway that connected the executive residence to the capitol levels. The cold metal walls and high ceiling were curved and perfectly smooth, interrupted only by lighting fixtures to help pedestrians navigate the former mothership. As she passed them, an automated tour began, explaining that heavy water rich with deuterium once gushed through these same passageways, bringing melted ice fuel stores to the fusion reactors far aft.

In many ways, she travelled these halls each day to ignite her own political reactions. Once she understood what the Gift was, Vespa believed that history had reserved a place for her and her brother. She believed in it so fervently she began speaking of it as inevitable, sharing her plans for Orionis with Arturus and promising him a place at her side when her reign began.

But one night, Vespa had dreamt that House Alyxander stole something precious from her. It was a nightmare, a horrible vision that left her gasping for air. When she sought Arturus for comfort, he was gone. It was the eve of their fifteenth birthday, and he had left in the deep of night without saying goodbye, abandoning her to follow his own destiny. The House, he would explain years later, spoke to him in ways she could never understand.

Vespa was devastated. If not for her parents intervening, she would have ended her life. But with their help, she renewed her determination and continued her studies. By the age of sixteen, she was an expert on Earth culture subjects ranging from arts to political science to economics. When she was nineteen, she took her first position with the Orionis government as an analyst for the Commerce Department. Thus began an impressive career that would last four decades, eventually leading to her appointment as Vice-Chancellor to Donovan Mayce, the elected Chancellor of Orionis, in 2802.

But it took a national tragedy to propel her to the highest seat of power. With three years remaining in his first term, Chancellor Mayce died in a freak accident. By law, Vespa assumed his powers as head of state, and would hold them until his elected term was complete in 2810. With the skill of a seasoned politician, Vespa cautiously guided the nation through a period of mourning, while delicately offering alternatives to the policies Donovan Mayce had championed.

Vespa never doubted she would eventually become Chancellor, no more than she questioned the absolute necessity of removing Donovan Mayce from office. Her visions had foretold of systemic calamity throughout Orionis if he stayed a full term. His expulsion was essential for the survival of mankind, and so she had taken decisive action.

Only Arturus knew the truth of what really happened to Donovan Mayce. The Gift was their secret. No one ever needed to know that it guided their judgment – or that her brother was providing the same prescient counsel to House Alyxander as well.

Both siblings believed there were times when evil must be committed in order to do good.

During the voyage from Earth, the bow of the
Tabit Genesis
had been an asteroid which had been hollowed and reshaped to protect the rest of the ship from interstellar particles crashing into it at half the speed of light. Today it sheltered Liberty Hall, the third habitation torus that rotated around the centreline axis of the former mothership. It housed the main seat of government, where all the senate hearings and voting sessions took place. Justice Hall, the main judiciary branch of the Orionis government, was on the other side. The third quadrant was reserved for the Commerce Branch, where all the economic activity of the colony was regulated.

Vespa reached the main entrance at 06:11, greeted by the haunting memorial dedicated to Earth. A great plaque surrounded by a volumetric image of the planet as seen from space was inscribed with one of the last messages received by the
Tabit Genesis
:

Genesis, our time has come.

Live, brave voyagers, so our memory will persevere.

Love, kindred souls, for we loved too little.

Flee, precious survivors, and do not ever return.

Remember Earth always, your home once, your family for all time.

You are our Genesis now, our dawn and hope for Humankind.

Farewell.

Vespa always paused here to place her hand on the cold, polished titanium. The press was fond of capturing this moment, as she stood silently and meditated on those final words and the people who wrote them.

Humanity was her responsibility now.

It was 06:19, and the first rays of the Orionis sun were striking the hull of the former
Tabit Genesis
, its light guided though the kilometres of passageways on board. The ruined world of Eileithyia was glowing outside, a perpetual cloud of noxious atmosphere reflecting most of that light back into space. The mothership had anchored in a geostationary orbit, matching the planet’s rotational speed of one revolution every 26.5 hours.

The station was beginning to stir. Bureaucrats, officials, lawyers, and legions of assistants began filling the halls.

Another day of governing, and she knew it would not be easy.

The morning briefings had been uneventful – there was nothing in the economic, political, or security landscape which might account for her disturbing dreams. After a brief conversation with her Chief of Staff and a conference call with the Finance Minister, Vespa was ready to begin a series of individual meetings with corporate executives. It was time to start campaigning under her own name for re-election.

Unfortunately, that meant hosting the company of donors whom she genuinely disliked. In her experience, the best practice was to order meetings by the anticipated level of hostility. As such, Cerlis Tarkon always earned the day’s first appointment, and she arrived at precisely 09:00.

‘Good morning, Chancellor,’ the old woman said, as her two blonde escorts shut the door behind them. ‘I thought of you earlier, while passing a kidney stone. Happens too often at my age, and I’ll be fine, thanks for asking. But when the thing was suctioned down the privy it reminded me of the money I donated to Donovan Mayce’s campaign. Hope I’m not being too personal, but we’re both women here, least I think so anyway, and you’ve always struck me as someone I can be frank with. Ha! Who am I kidding, that’s true with everyone I know. So let’s just get on with it: how much are you asking for and why in hell should I give it to you?’

‘You are as … courteous as ever, Miss Tarkon,’ Vespa said, with a smile. ‘I thought we would maintain some decorum for a change.’

Cerlis deliberately lowered herself into the couch opposite where Vespa was sitting.

‘It’s rarely a pleasant memory, these meetings. But I recall reaching an agreement last time we met, political interests notwithstanding, that you would support a certain bit of legislation that’s rather dear to me. You see, people just assume old folks can’t remember shit, but I’m told exercise wards off senility, and it so happens I’m laid often enough to remember deals I’ve struck with heads of state. But humour me anyway and remind me what the last cheque I wrote bought me.’

Vespa began counting off the answer on her fingers:

‘Financing for three new biodome projects on Hephaestus, several government purchase orders for your freighters, lower taxes on food production revenues—’

‘Damnit, my head hurts,’ Cerlis interrupted. ‘You know why that might be?’

‘I have a few theories.’

‘It’s because I keep asking you to do something, and like some mentally challenged mutant, you keep telling me you’ll do it, but the instruction never fucking registers with the part of your brain that can actually execute it. Know what I’m talking about?’

‘Miss Tarkon, as I believe I’ve reminded you before, I won’t support extending the Heritage Act to amniosynths until corporations agree to share the cost we’ll incur for doing so.’

‘And I think I’ve reminded you before, that’s the goddamn dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard for not doing it. We can feed as many people as there’s demand for, Vespa.’

‘Can you? And who benefits when this government’s expenditures quadruple? Really, Cerlis, I’ve handed Vulcan enough money already. You don’t have the capacity to manage all that extra demand anyway.’

‘We’ll build more factories—’

‘Which would give you a convenient excuse to claim financial hardship and raise food prices even more. It’s extortion masquerading as capitalism. No thank you, Miss Tarkon.’

‘If money is the concern, then grow a pair and repeal the whole damn law,’ Cerlis offered. ‘Put firstborns and amniosynths on equal footing, and make ’em both pay their own way.’

‘It may not be fair for amniosynths, but to restore humanity to its former glory there must always be a population segment that is afforded maximum opportunity to thrive,’ Vespa explained. ‘Firstborns are our last real connection to Earth. We will continue to nurture them for as long as we can.’

‘What the hell would you know about nurturing?’ Cerlis fumed. ‘You do understand that amniosynths are human, don’t you?’

‘I’m not sure that’s true any more with Obyerans, but point noted,’ Vespa said calmly. ‘In the interest of being solutions-based, all you have to do to convince me to repeal Heritage is share the cost. I want you to legally
guarantee
to provide
every
child born in Orionis with inalienable human rights. Imagine it: Vulcan Dynamics, the great benefactor, subsidising free food, healthcare, education, and employment for all.’