Genesis Force Page 6

  “Of course,” she answered with a nod. “And we’ll need help from the Divine in knowing who to put on it. Every citizen who wants to apply for inclusion will have to complete a form, then we need to get the curate and the overseer to preside over the random selection. Of course, some of it won’t be random, such as the families of those who help us.”

  “Plus the high breeds,” said Komplum without a trace of sarcasm. He was simply stating a fact.

  Marla Karuw didn’t immediately respond, because she didn’t entirely agree. “What have we heard about the battery tests?”

  “So far, so good,” answered Komplum, checking the notes on his handheld padd. “Still full power in the satellite systems, no biodegradation.”

  She strode past her assistant and toward the door, which opened at her approach. “I’m giving orders to proceed to full installation right now. Get a repair crew and tons of supplies onto every orbiter.”

  “But, Regent,” protested Komplum, “that’s not a very long test.”

  “We haven’t got time for a very long test,” she snapped. “All we have time for is hope and a prayer.” She stopped and looked fondly at her young assistant. “Keep pointing things out to me—that’s good. What do you think the common people will do when we turn off the transporter system?”

  “Panic . . . riot,” suggested the young Aluwnan. “Don’t do it without warning, please.”

  The regent scowled. “All right, we’ll give them two units to get home, but we’ll suggest they don’t go anywhere unless it’s an emergency.”

  “In these times, every breath is an emergency,” observed Komplum.

  “You’re right on that,” answered Marla with a wistful sigh. “And it’s only going to get worse.”

  * * *

  “Candra!” shouted Farlo Fuzwik, rushing down the tiled walkway to the restricted red transporter booth. His old partner-in-crime looked remarkably like a woman, dressed in a diaphanous blue gown and wobbling on high heels. She staggered off the transporter platform into his arms, and they hugged in a way they had never hugged before.

  Farlo pulled away, slightly embarrassed. “You look . . . grownup! It’s great that you made it—I didn’t think you would.”

  “Look at this outfit!” exclaimed Candra, gaping at his red satin wedding uniform, with its golden epaulets, tasseled hat, striped silky trousers, and bright red slippers. They had gone from children to adults dressed in fine clothing much different from the children’s threads they had worn earlier that day.

  “Well, we both look terrific!” he exclaimed. “Did you . . . what was it like on the esplanade?”

  “Really fun!” she answered, clapping her hands together excitedly. “I mean, I didn’t do anything but try on clothes and meet some of the other girls. It was a very high-class place, from what I could tell. But then came the overseer’s announcement, and a lot of people left. The customers all ran for home. I didn’t know where I was going to go, but then the constables showed up. And here I am.”

  She grabbed his arms and shook him. “So that’s my story, but you came out way on top, by the looks of it. What happened to you?”

  Farlo started to reply but got tongue-tied about saying he was a high breed, because he had never related to Candra in that way. He had never thought she was a woman either, but she clearly was. “I’m getting married,” he said sheepishly.

  “Married?” Her jaw dropped. then she laughed out loud. “You do look like you’re dressed for a wedding, but you . . . married?”

  “Hey, you thought it was perfectly all right for you to service strange men, but I can’t be married?” he asked indignantly. “And I’m marrying the seeress, to be her third husband, because it turns out I’ve got high breeding!”

  Now her jaw really dropped, and she gripped his arm. “You’re not making this up?”

  He pointed to his elegant clothing and then at the sumptuous grounds, the glistening sea, and the mammoth building, with its outdoor staircases and madly dashing servants. “Red transporter booth,” he added, pointing to the contraption she had just exited, as if he needed to explain the exclusivity.

  She lowered her voice to ask, “So this means you’re going to get off the planet before this energy wave hits us, but what about me?”

  “Stick close to me,” he advised her. “Maybe I’ll have some pull with the overseer.”

  “Well, you should have some pull with the seeress,” said Candra with a sly smile. “At least you’ll get to see her alone. Very alone.”

  Farlo was certain he was blushing, and he was relieved when a glittering object came streaking toward them out of the sky. “Look at that,” he remarked, pointing into the eastern sky. “It must be a shuttlecraft.”

  The servants rushed to meet the small craft when it touched down on a landing pad behind the domed building, but Farlo and Candra stayed in the garden, talking, until Uncle Padrin came to fetch them. Recognizing the handsome man from the laboratory, Candra glared at him until Farlo introduced him as the seeress consort.

  “Who knew she would clean up so well,” remarked Padrin, gazing at Candra with approval. “I’m sorry I sent you away, my dear, but I didn’t know our whole world would be turned upside down. Rest assured, you’ll be safe with us.”

  Frowning puzzledly, Candra asked, “Will Farlo be called the seeress consort, too?”

  “I’m afraid so,” he answered with a wan smile. “It works great for getting a restaurant reservation, although I don’t know if that will matter in a couple of days. Come along, Farlo, your bride awaits, and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Just nod your head and say yes. This won’t be a gala wedding, given the state of emergency, but you should get a taste of your new life.”

  Farlo got more than a taste, and the ceremony lasted for more than a unit of time. The seeress had brought both a judge and a cleric with her, and they were surrounded by servants, minor dignitaries, and the acolytes of the Institute of Devotion. Two ceremonies were conducted—civic and religious—and both of them went by in a blur to Farlo. He couldn’t take his eyes off the ravishing blond woman in the purple gown who smiled fondly at him a few times, and he couldn’t imagine that she was to be his bride. Since he knew this change in his station of life was due entirely to his breeding and the children he might produce, he fretted all through the ceremonies about what his postnuptial duties would be.

  Farlo scanned the crowd for Candra, to make sure she was sticking by him. Early on he saw her, watching with a concerned frown on her face, but as the ceremonies dragged on he lost sight of her. When it was over and every power on Aluwna had pronounced them husband and wife, Farlo continued to survey the crowd, looking for his friend. But Seeress Jenoset commanded his attention.

  “Beloved,” she told him without a trace of sarcasm, “we haven’t got time to consummate our relationship at the moment, but there will be time later. You listen to your uncle Padrin and stay in this place, which is safe. If all goes well, I’ll return to claim you by tonight. If there are delays, I’ll know where to find you, or where to leave instructions.”

  Jenoset kissed him tenderly on the cheek, and he smelled her delicate perfume of fruit blossoms and autumn spices. With a swish of the stiff fabric of her gown, she turned and sauntered from the great hall, her entourage in tow. Farlo finally let his breath out, and he stared dumbly at the departing servants and guests.

  “Candra!” he called. “Candra, where are you?”

  When no one in the fleeing crowd answered, he found his uncle Padrin outside in the gazebo, watching the birds float idyllically across the shimmering water of the inlet cove. “Uncle,” he said, “have you seen my friend Candra?”

  “I saw her,” answered the dapper consort, his eyes somewhat hidden and half shut. “I thought your friend came out here midway through,” he answered. “Can’t blame her, with all the history and religious lessons we have to hear every time one of us gets married. You know, I thought I would have no emotions when I was eventually
forced to share my job. After all, we spent long enough looking for you. But now that you’re here—and you’re so much younger and prettier than I am—yes, I do admit to a pang of jealousy.”

  When Farlo sputtered something in protest, Padrin sighed and leaned against a trellis full of purple vines. “It’s not your fault, lad. Why do you think we were testing street children? We knew you were out there. But will it really matter? I’m melancholy about losing our way of life. Maintaining a privileged class is not going to be a high priority on the new Aluwna, I’m afraid. Considering where you came from, you must find us stuffy and self-centered, but we have really tried to govern wisely.”

  After dabbing moisture from his eyes, Padrin cleared his throat and said, “Normally your fate would be blessed by this event, and no harm would ever befall you—but our world is ending. I understand they’re holding a lottery for the commoners, and you must feel as if you’ve already won. Maybe so, but I caution you to look out for yourself, Farlo. We’ve lived in a bubble all these cycles, and . . . well, you know what happens to bubbles.”

  The boy nodded somberly, even while he scanned the beach, looking for Candra. He didn’t know why, but her friendship seemed more important than anything else at the moment.

  * * *

  Candra hesitated before following the last of the resplendent wedding guests into the red transporter booth. Three at a time, they hurried to escape from this sylvan setting in order to do what they had to do before the disaster. Is leaving really the best thing? she wondered. How can I leave my best friend when he wanted me to be here?

  The answer was clear on the face of Seeress Jenoset during the ceremony, when she gazed often at Farlo. The lady had high plans for the youth, and they didn’t include his ragamuffin friends. She would only get in the way and become a hindrance to him. Then again, where could she run? Their old haunts might seem safe, but the low-bred girl knew that she would never win any kind of lottery for survival on Aluwna. She didn’t even have an official existence, except for being a pleasure girl in training.

  No, thought Candra, this was not the time to freelance when she finally had connections in high places. Still Candra realized it would be hard watching Farlo be married to another woman. She had never thought of him romantically, but they were a team and had been for many cycles. She would gladly share him, but that was forbidden. It was stupid—why couldn’t a male marry several females? The answer, she feared, was that no man would want to marry a girl of her breeding. Desirable females were always a minority, and most men would rather be second or third husband to a high-bred wife, while they slipped off to the esplanade to pleasure themselves with females of her station.

  “Excuse me, may I ask you something?” intruded a kindly male voice, interrupting her thoughts.

  She turned around to see a great rarity—an offworlder, dressed in simple but flowing brown robes, as if he were one of the acolytes. Dark gleaming hair, pointy ears, gaunt face and body, blank expression, and only one pair of eyebrows—what were they called? The girl hadn’t had any formal training, but she had seen a lot of life and almost every run-down hovel in the capital city. She had seen this race before . . . Romulans, Rigelians, Klingons . . . or maybe Vulcans?

  Whatever he was, Candra knew what all offworlders wanted. “You can take this transporter booth any place that’s not restricted,” she told him, pointing to the red contraption.

  “I know that,” answered the stranger. “I have spent much time here.”

  The roar of thrusters sounded across the lavish gardens, and they both turned to watch a shuttlecraft climb swiftly into the azure sky. “That would be our seeress leaving,” he said matter-of-factly.

  With stern but not altogether unkind dark eyes, the pointy-eared man turned to regard her. “I am looking for an object I lost, and there is a reward for the one who finds it. I have my own starship, and I can offer you a coveted prize—escape from this doomed world.”

  “What makes you think I know where it is?” asked Candra suspiciously.

  “Because you stole it,” answered the man. “You and the new seeress consort. I cannot ask him, because he is being watched too closely. Do you remember a black beadsack which you took this morning from a passerby in the courtyard of the Summer Palace?”

  Candra looked down at her feet, and then she glanced at the transporter booth, wondering if she could make a break for it. But the stranger stepped in front of her and said, “My friend was careless to have it in a bag. What’s done is done, and I offer no punishment, just rewards. The only thing I want from the bag is a black tubelike device about so long.” He held his fingers apart a few micromeasures. “Do you remember such an ebony tube?”

  “Maybe,” she answered sheepishly. Since Farlo had taken all the belongings in the black bag, she didn’t really know what had become of them. But Farlo ought to know.

  “Here,” he said, pressing a small communications device into her palm. “If you find it, you press this button to contact me. I will be waiting to hear from you. Remember, you can trust me to save your life when you can trust no one else. Pin this on your gown, like a brooch.” He did the honors for her, and his hands were sure and gentle. She wondered about his age, which was hard to judge in a member of his race.

  The stranger walked toward the transporter booth and said, “I hope to hear from you, Candra.”

  “What’s your name?” she called out as he stepped into the booth.

  Without giving an answer, the offworlder shook his head as the door shut after him. With a puzzled frown, Candra twisted the fabric of her gown to see the communications pin he had stuck on her. She heard a call and looked up to see Farlo running her way, and that gave her an extra boost of hope. Carefully Candra turned on her high heels and headed toward the domed building and her old friend, who was waving frantically. Things were happening so fast, but she knew that the mysterious offworlder had been right about one thing—she needed to look out for her own skin.

  Seven

  “Turn them on! Turn on the transporters!” screamed one man just before he tossed a vase of flowers, which shattered off the side of the blue booth.

  Four constables wielding stun sticks tightened ranks around the booth, but they were outnumbered about a hundred to one. Despite repeated announcements that the transporter system would shut down at midafternoon, millions of Aluwnans had been caught in places far from home—at work, at school, or at play. Most of them accepted their fate stoically, but a vocal few were becoming violent, as this video log indicated. One man taunted a smaller female constable to the point where she lashed out with her stun stick and dropped him where he stood. That sent the crowd into a frenzy; in one great surge, they overwhelmed the guards and grabbed their stun sticks, which they used against the peacekeepers.

  Flush with this minor victory, the energy of the mob reached its peak, and they assaulted the transporter booth itself. Screaming and yelling, the rabble managed to uproot the box and push it over onto its side, where it exploded with a shower of sparks and smoke that drove them back. Dozens were trampled in the resulting stampede.

  A synthesized voice on the fallen booth started to bemoan its fate. “The transporter booth is malfunctioning,” it told the loud and deranged crowd. “Please step away. The transporter booth is malfunctioning.” It exploded with a pop and belched huge clouds of smoke into the downtown air, as the crowd lustily cheered its approval.

  Marla Karuw scowled and tried to look away from the disturbing sight. So the chief constable turned up the sound and made the image on the overseer’s desk even larger. “Before now, we were a peaceful society,” he grumbled. “So we don’t have enough constables to deal with an emergency like this. According to your orders, we have to protect each and every transporter booth at all cost. Is that right, Your Regency?”

  “That’s right,” she admitted, “every booth is crucial. But I happen to know this is a rare occurrence, and that the people are calm at most stations. In fact, more people have
volunteered to stay behind than have requested to be put on the list.”

  “Yes, but these people just want to get home!” he exclaimed. “They don’t understand or care about the logistics involved, and we’ll never know which booths are going to be mobbed. Regent, we’ve got to have more constables. We don’t have to pay them anything—we can hire all we want just by putting them on the list to be saved. My replicators are making more stun sticks, and we’ve got the volunteers to triple our number.”

  “I imagine you do,” muttered Karuw sullenly. “So the only people who will be saved are the thugs we hire to protect the transporter booths?”

  The chief shrugged. “My forces didn’t choose this battle—we were pushed into it. With the transporters off, we face problems getting people into position, but we need the people first.”

  Marla Karuw sat at the desk in the overseer’s receiving room and drummed her fingers on the lacquered wood. “Chief, what kind of breeding do most of the constables have? Is it high?”

  He looked down at his feet and put his heels together. “Hardly. Most of them are middle breed, young and fit, about equally divided between the sexes. If you want us to find higher breeds we could, but we don’t really—”

  “No,” she said, brushing it off. “We’ll also need your constables to oversee the loading of the transporter booths, when the time comes. You’re right, we aren’t geared up for this, but we’re learning as we go. After we get the gel packs and the power tethers installed, we should be able to reopen the transporters for official use, so keep in contact with my staff.”

  “Yes, Regent,” he said with a bow. “So we can promise salvation to our new hires?”

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” she asked testily. With a motion of her hand, Marla Karuw dismissed him, and he hurried from the receiving room, his footsteps clacking across the tiled floor.