Chapter 9
Soleil dropped onto the large, well-padded couch and let herself bounce closer to Josh, her tall, sometimes shy, always sexy lover.
Their leased high-rise luxury flat, courtesy of Josh’s wealth, had eclectic furnishings courtesy of their friend Tuzan, a man of many talents. She’d personally sourced key items to fit tall people with long limbs. “Hi there, handsome. Missed you in class this morning.”
“Hi.” He smiled and kissed her. “Sorry. I’m a slug.”
More likely, he’d forgotten the time. He and Tuzan were often in their own little pocket universe when working on their latest project.
She snuggled in under his arm because she could. Maybe in thirty or forty years, the novelty might wear off. In the meantime, she would enjoy every chance she got.
Josh put his hand on her cybernetic thigh. Nerve-to-synthflesh mapping reported it to her brain as if it were organic, but it had never felt quite the same. “What’s your percentage today?”
He meant the readout from her waster’s disease test meter. “Eleven. But the unit’s margin of error means it could be as high as fifteen.”
“Or as low as seven.” He spoke before she could object. “Yes, I know, hope is your enemy.” He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “But it’s never gone up since the first test, and it’s still dropping, if not as fast as the first sixty days.”
“I know. And Neirra was a galaxy-class healer.” She sighed, knowing he needed to hang onto the hope as much as she needed to let it go. Hope brought complacency she couldn’t afford. “I wish I could consult a specialist.”
None of the Jumper medics she’d ever known would agree to having their memories erased after a visit, and she refused to do it without advance permission.
More accurately, ask Tuzan to erase their memories.
He was a top-level minder cleaner who the CPS believed had died thirty-plus years ago in the riots over the original Ayorinn forecast. Ridderth riots were as regular as rain, but the infamous Legacy riots had destroyed half the city and decimated the population with casualties.
She, Josh, and Tuzan were sitting on so much information that all CPS veterans — Minder Corps, Jumpers, and the secret divisions — deserved to know.
The Minder Veterans Association she’d been involved with had manually collected years of actual, anonymized health data from millions of CPS veterans.
In the beginning, the data came from people stationed at or passing through the busy Ridderth military base.
By the time she joined the cause, MVA volunteers traveled to other planets to start branches and meet with more veterans.
The stories they told differed sharply from the sanitized, cherry-picked crap data the CPS trotted out when they wanted something.
Five years ago in Ridderth, where she and Josh had met, the CPS had brutally smashed the MVA in an attempt to confiscate or destroy the data.
As cover for their operation, the CPS instigated riots that turned deadly and made galaxy trending headlines for weeks.
Soleil had escaped with the clothes on her back, an assumed identity, and her former life in ashes.
A year later, an enterprising journalist team at Novo Granica produced detailed statistics from hundreds of megacities across dozens of planets. Their painstaking analysis demonstrated a strong correlation between unanticipated riots and CPS raids.
The next bombshell came when a few leaked records indicated the CPS had actual written policies that recommended sparking riots as an excuse for purging whistleblowers, minder-rights activists, and private veterans’ organizations.
One memo even justified sparking riots as a public service because they helped citizens let off steam and encouraged cities to update infrastructure.
That story had topped the galactic newstrends for a hundred days and spawned many related revelations of similar cynical practices.
The CPS’s reputation spinners still hadn’t dug the agency out of that particular gravity well.
Which was why she, Josh, and Tuzan were entertaining the idea of letting Charrascos get closer. They needed her skills.
Josh and Tuzan’s algorithms had been releasing the MVA’s information in ways the CPS had not yet been able to stop. The bulk of the older Minder Corps health data had gone out months ago and was already paying off.
Soleil gleefully watched CPS officials get caught flat-footed and flailing when the galactic High Council asked pointed questions.
Such as how much the “maintenance” drugs were costing the taxpayers for the ninety-three percent of Minder Corps veterans still taking them, and where it was buried in the CPS’s budget.
She looked forward to releasing similarly damning data about Jumpers and what they’d gleaned on the Kameleon division and other quasi-secret programs.
She patted Josh’s hand on her thigh. “I want to start an anonymous charity for Jumper veterans that helps them get the new extended-life batteries.” She stretched her legs out and wiggled her toes.
“I know you’ll be shocked to learn the CPS is lying about how well the rollout is going.
I checked. Mabingion is supposedly fully upgraded for both active duty and veterans, and yet none of my Jumper students have the upgrade, and they say none of their mates, retired or active, have it, either. ”
He nodded. “I’ll set it up tonight.”
When he’d been in the secret Kameleon spy program in the CPS, he’d started hundreds of corporations and alternate identities over the years to hide his money and activities.
They’d have brain-wiped him if they knew how much he remembered from his active-duty days, or if they discovered his secret journal.
He’d even embezzled from himself to keep the CPS from wondering why he wasn’t spending lavishly like other Kameleons did.
“I already know where to get the batteries.”
She turned to him. “You do?”
He smiled. “I… well, part of me thought it would be good to have extras in our emergency exit supplies, so I acquired a case.” He gave her a quick kiss.
“A private company makes and sells them to the CPS at a tiny fraction above cost. Brilliant, because it prevents the CPS from using the ‘extraordinary need’ statute to appropriate the patents or the supply chain, and the company still makes a fortune.”
Soleil smiled. “Which part of you wanted the batteries? The bomber or the medic?” The dark legacy of his service in the CPS’s secretive Kameleon Corps had left the remnants of foreign personalities — bleedovers — in his mind.
He’d somehow managed to stay sane and learned to work with them. Soleil admired the hell out of him.
“Both. The medic wanted them for you.” He caressed her cybernetic thigh. A corner of his mouth twitched. “The bomber wanted them for research purposes.”
“Research?” Soleil laughed. “Is that Nordic for ‘blow shit up’?”
“Maybe.” He couldn’t hold the innocent look for long. “Okay, yeah.”
“I’ll source a couple of Kem-X packs. That’ll take a day or two. More exotic energetics might take a ten-day.” She grinned at him. “Jumpers know where to get all the fun stuff.”
The wallcomp announced the arrival of Tuzan, who had invited himself over with the promise of bringing good food and wine as guest gifts. Since neither she nor Josh had the patience to manage more than kitchen basics, they’d readily agreed.
The reason behind Tuzan’s in-person visit became obvious when he walked in the door. He’d been to a bodyshop for a full makeover. The difference was astonishing.
Tuzan laughed at her slack-jaw stare. “Jumpers. Subtle as a supernova.”
He put the bags he was carrying on the dining table, then twirled once for her.
“Yes, I’m a dozen centimeters taller. Yes, I can still sing despite the lower vocal register.
No, it doesn’t take long to braid my hair.
” His smile turned wistful. “Yes, the Asian face and body design are in honor of my lost sister and family. I’m now the last of the line. ”
Soleil glanced at Josh and realized he’d already seen Tuzan’s transformation. She didn’t bother to complain because it wouldn’t have occurred to Josh to mention it. In his Kameleon days, the CPS had given him hundreds of makeovers, from minor to radical.
“I like the new look,” said Josh. “It suits you.”
“Stunning and classic,” agreed Soleil. “Why now?”
“It felt like the right time.” Tuzan gave an exaggerated sigh. “I blame the missing Ayorinn’s Legacy quatrains I found two months ago, and the new one from last night.”
Soleil raised an eyebrow at Josh and Tuzan. “Care to share?”
Tuzan tracked the quatrains like they held the secret to the meaning of life. Academia and the government dismissed the jumbled lines of poetry as doggerel. She didn’t know what to think.
Josh looked abashed. “Sorry, I forgot.” He quickly used the percomp on his wrist to send a command to the big wallcomp display.
Delicate time spins dark into prismatic spectra.
Ancient paths spill
Redshift drops to fill voids.
Spirits return fire to the restless.
Harsh mirrors render infinite paths and none.
Resurrected gods stir,
Touchpoints spin,
Galaxies twist apart…
The helical dance begins.
Fail not the red spark.
A footnote said it was translated from Mandarin.
No way of telling if this was the first translation or the twentieth.
According to Tuzan, it didn’t matter. The Legacy’s purpose was to free all of human civilization from the unnamed shackles of some dire fate only the greatest forecaster that ever lived could see coming.
Soleil read it twice, but the quatrains had never made any sense to her simple Jumper brain, no matter what language they appeared in. “Is it the ‘harsh mirrors’ bit?”
“No, that’s the Legacy itself.” Tuzan pointed to the line above it. “This means returning to who we were meant to be. All of us spirits. Ghosts.” His eyes drifted. “I think we’re going to get more passengers soon. We need to scale up.”