Echo Page 7

  “You’re being treated for anti-social behavior, not introverted nature,” the tech said.

  “Can’t you fix that, too?” Angela asked, combing her fingers through her short, red hair.

  “Personality adjustments of that nature are not permitted,” the tech replied. She fingered the image of the brain on the console, contemplating the possibility, but then noticed Fisher and Danny behind her.

  “You made another male?” the tech huffed, narrowing her eyes at Danny.

  “He’s a traveler, Ian. Have you even looked at the news today?” Fisher retorted. “We may have a new patient for you.”

  Ian looked Danny over, even less pleased about his presence than Kyan had been at first. “Nomad?”

  “In a way. I’m not the patient,” Danny said.

  “Good. What’s the case template?” Ian asked.

  “An original. A type of schizophrenic,” Jack replied. “If you’re willing to leave the dome for the night, we are going to Danny’s spaceship to see her.”

  Danny sucked in his cheeks. He’d agreed to bring Fisher, and hoped she wasn’t planning to invite an entourage.

  “Spaceship?” Ian repeated, her expression flitting between appalled and intrigued. “How long does it take to get there?”

  “We’re parked about fifteen miles south of the city. Ten or twenty minutes with our transport vehicle. It runs on grav-tech,” Danny said, trying to pick up on the part that had gotten Lula excited. Ian crossed her arms, her expression doubtful.

  “Ian, is your depression treatment failing?” Fisher asked, sounding more irritated than concerned.

  “Mourning a lost sister is natural. It’s not a disease,” Ian said.

  “It’s been two months.”

  “How long would it take you to recover if we terminate those precious test subjects you claim as children?!” Ian exploded, jumping out of her chair. “You saw mercy in Isabelle’s death, why can’t you see it in theirs?”

  “Neither of my children have a terminal disease. They can live long, healthy lives.”

  “Not happy,” Ian sneered.

  “Yes, happy!”

  Ian stormed out of the room. Smoldering in anger, Fisher plopped down in the chair.

  “You said cousin,” Danny said. “She lost a sister?”

  “It’s an odd distinction when all Coopers are genetically identical. Ian prides herself on being a natural twin. The egg split in the womb. It’s a fascinating case study,” Fisher nodded. “Ian and Isabelle developed this brain-mapping machine together and have repaired defects that have plagued the Cooper line for generations. They’re still so temperamental, Coopers.”

  Danny couldn’t believe Fisher could speak so callously about someone who’d lost a sibling just two months ago.

  “Is there another neurologist we can talk to?” Danny asked.

  “Ian is the tech, not the doctor,” Fisher said, rising from the chair, motioning Danny to follow her out. “There are a few technicians, but no one knows this technology better than Ian Cooper. I’m sure we’ll find a Granger in neurology who will oversee the baselining and planning, but Ian will guide the execution. She’ll be more excited to help once she looks up schizophrenia.”

  Danny’s stomach knotted, repulsed by the thought of anyone finding Amanda’s condition exciting.

  “I must make preparations for my child before going to your ship,” Fisher said, bustling toward the next task.

  She directed Danny to a cafeteria on the main floor, where he picked up a bowl of rice for Hawk and a slice of cake for Sky. He surveyed the local vegetables, enthralled by the mystery salads, but then he found a familiar pot of tomato soup, and opted for the comfort of familiarity. He carried the containers back to Fisher’s office and was glad to see Hawk standing by the window, though he leaned heavily on Sky, who wrapped her arms around him while they gazed together out the window.

  “I brought sustenance,” Danny said, setting the containers on the desk. He hadn’t thought to grab utensils, but the others didn’t care. There was a hand-washing station just outside the door, and they were famished enough to eat with their fingers. Danny sat on the floor with his soup, leaving the two chairs for Hawk and Sky, but they sat on the floor next to him.

  “Did you know Fisher has kids?” Danny asked, fighting the urge to lean on Sky’s shoulder.

  “They called me Aunt Sky. They should be grown now,” she replied, smiling.

  “She might have a new one.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me. Not everyone is as fascinated by originals as she is,” Sky said, dragging her finger along the bottom of the cake container to get every smear of frosting.

  Hawk made it halfway through his rice bowl before he decided he’d had enough. Having regathered some of his strength, he left to wash his hands again. Danny took advantage of Hawk’s absence to kiss sky. She sucked on his lower lip for a moment, then paused.

  “Not here?” he teased.

  “You’re messing up my cake with your soup breath,” she said.

  “I’ll get you more cake,” he promised. Sky smiled and kissed him again.

  The door burst open, and Danny scrambled to his feet, nearly spilling his soup. Fisher bustled in, with a younger version of herself hot on her heels. The younger Fisher was slightly taller, with dark brown hair and a little more muscle on her shoulders. Hawk snuck in behind the two Fishers, watching with intrigue.

  “Why do I have to look after him? Can’t he just stay in a pen like the other test subjects?” the young Fisher whined, speaking in soft, high-pitched falsetto. Danny realized he wasn’t looking at a young woman, but a young man. His jaw was squarer, his shoulders broader, but hunched so that he wouldn’t look as tall. The baggy tunic he wore hid his lack of hips or breasts, and he seemed to be trying very hard to pass for female.

  “Human subjects don’t stay in pens.” Jack Fisher retorted, going to the wall, using her hand to unlock a cabinet Danny hadn’t noticed before. “How would you like to live in a pen?”

  “But—”

  The young man froze when he realized they weren’t alone in the office. He stared, slack-jawed, at Danny and Hawk.

  “That’s older brother talk, if I ever heard it,” Danny said, trying to break the tension.

  “Yes, Tommy is an experimental male template,” Fisher said distractedly, closing the first cabinet and unlocking another. “Tommy, this is Danny Matthews. Danny, my eldest child, Tommy Fisher.”

  Tommy was stunned speechless.

  “It’s just that your people seem to have never seen a man before,” Danny stammered.

  “Most haven’t. As I said, we have twenty templates but thousands of individuals. Not everyone knows everyone else, and we don’t advertise our failed experiments,” Fisher said, finding what she wanted in the cabinet and setting it on her desk.

  “He looks fine to me,” Hawk commented, licking his lips incorrigibly.

  “Hawk!” Sky exclaimed, swatting him.

  “I am hopeful you can repay our kindness by helping us learn about male types,” Fisher said. “Tommy has asked me questions before that I simply cannot fathom an answer to.”

  “I’m happy to teach you,” Hawk smiled. “Hey, do you want to go up the Sheshesheshe…nnn tower with us tonight?”

  “Oseshen,” Sky corrected, stifling a laugh. “I was going to take Hawk up to the tower to enjoy the view.”

  Tommy nodded eagerly but didn’t manage a sound.

  “If Michael is up for it,” Fisher reminded him. “He is your responsibility until I return to the city. Today was his last lab round this month, so you have him all day tomorrow.”

  Tommy wilted in disappointment, but Fisher didn’t seem to notice. Danny felt bad for the man, but in most family dynamics, it fell to the older sibling to babysit the younger one.

  “We should leave now to align with the air cycle,” Fisher said to Danny.

  “Sure,” Danny said, frowning. By his watch, they still had another hour, and he woul
dn’t have minded meeting Fisher’s other kids. He nodded to Tommy. “It was nice meeting you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

  Tommy worked his jaw and studied Danny’s face. He looked from Danny to Hawk, his bewilderment growing. “How do you keep your face smooth?”

  “Tommy, now isn’t the time. There is nothing wrong with your face,” Fisher reprimanded. Tommy winced at her tone.

  Danny smiled to cover the twinge of pity he felt. Tommy’s cheeks weren’t red from arguing, but raw from a poor attempt to remove facial hair.

  “There’s a shaving kit in our gear. Hawk can show you,” Danny said with a wink.

  10

  When Tray heard Danny’s voice on the vring, he nearly collapsed with exhaustion and relief. He’d worried himself sick fearing his brother might never return. Eager for the reunion, he changed his shirt, splashed water on his face, and headed for the bay.

  He almost tripped over the two large feet hanging out of Morrigan’s quarters and blocking the hall. The sound of laughter floated through the open door. Corin lay on the floor, taking up the entirety of the open space in the tiny cabin. He had one leg peaked and waving side-to-side, pushing his robe open and coming dangerously close to exposing himself. Morrigan sat on the edge of her bed, facing a mirror, applying red blush to her already red, puffy cheek. She wore her tailored yellow dress from Nola and had fashioned a tiara out of gemstones from Corin’s bead collection.

  “What are you doing?” Tray asked.

  Morrigan jabbed her finger at the air, but didn’t speak.

  “Getting ready,” Corin said for her.

  Morrigan gave a thumbs up to signal her agreement. Tray worried that her cheek or tongue might have become infected, since he knew she’d been talking earlier. Both she and Corin wore glassy-eyed expressions of contentment.

  “Are you both drugged now?”

  “I was in pain. She was in pain. Everything hurt. Made no sense,” Corin sang.

  “No sense,” Morrigan repeated.

  “Danny’s almost here. How long ago did you… do this?”

  “Shh. I’m playing a song,” Corin whispered. His fingers moved through the air playing an invisible piano while he hummed. His elbows stayed close to his side, because even medicated, he wasn’t immune to his injured ribs.

  Irritated, Tray stalked down the hall and Morrigan skipped after him. She linked Tray’s arm as they passed through the middeck hatch and into the cargo bay.

  Saskia and Chase were in the bay, Chase making sure the Bobsled got anchored, Saskia armed to the teeth. Amanda was crouched on the upper deck catwalk, clutching a knife that she shouldn’t have been allowed to keep.

  “Stay up there. I want you to have a quick escape,” Saskia ordered Tray.

  “What’s wrong?” Tray asked. A quick glance in the Bobsled told him Danny had brought visitors. Sky and Hawk weren’t with them. Tray clamped Morrigan’s arm, shaking his head as she waved deliriously at the Bobsled.

  Danny rushed down the Bobsled’s ladder as soon as he was free of his harness, not bothering to help his passengers. He didn’t run or relay orders, but his haste put Saskia on alert. The two women in the back of the cockpit looked neither threatening nor concerned.

  “Welcome to Oriana,” Tray called to their guests. Their similarities outweighed their differences. The older one had gray streaks through her dark brown hair, and the younger one had blonde streaks through the same dark brown base. Their skin was pale with an olive hue.

  “It looks dirty,” the younger one commented, not acknowledging Tray’s greeting.

  “Hush. We’re guests here,” the elder one said, climbing out of the Bobsled. She had an athletic build and her sure-footed steps made the movement look natural.

  Tray started down the stairs, but Saskia warned him back.

  “It’s all right, Saskia. They’re not armed,” Danny said.

  “Another male template. Is the loose clothing meant to mask the size of your gonads?” the younger one asked Chase, sizing him up.

  “Ian, I said stop!” Danny cried.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Captain,” the elder woman chuckled, retrieving a rolling bag from the rear storage compartment.

  “Male hormones have significant impact on brain mapping patterns. It would help to have a library of healthy male brains,” Ian shrugged.

  “Well, our brains are in our skulls, not between our legs. So let’s keep the conversation up here,” Danny said. Tray cringed, finally understanding why his brother had been so eager to flee the Bobsled.

  The elder one smiled pleasantly at Chase, offering her hand. “Hello, traveler. My name is Dr. Jack Fisher.”

  Chase looked at Danny, and Danny shrugged. Then, like some hidden signal had passed between the two, they both grinned. Chase grabbed Fisher’s hand, shaking hard, speaking rapidly in Lanvarian about fish monsters and space debris, pretending he didn’t speak Trade. Danny laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes.

  Growing impatient, Tray came down the stairs, flicking his brother’s arm as he walked past.

  “Dr. Fisher, that is Chase Du Plessis,” Tray said, pulling Fisher’s hand out of Chase’s. “My name is Tray Matthews. This is our security officer and my wife, Saskia Serevi.”

  “Wife?” Fisher smiled broadly. “Is that a sign of sexual fidelity in your culture?”

  Tray exchanged a look with Saskia. He’d been debating whether or not to refer to her as his wife, but it seemed the least complicated way of expressing that neither of them were available. Things in Nola would have been far less complicated if he’d led with that.

  “Yes, it is, and no, you may not ask for more details than that. We are private people.” Glancing around, he saw that Morrigan had made it to the bottom stair. “This is—”

  “Amanda,” Fisher interrupted again, taking both of Morrigan’s hands in hers. “Poor dear. How many medications are you on?”

  “No, this is Dr. Morrigan Zenzele,” Tray said. Danny looked appalled at Morrigan’s addled state, but Morrigan swished her dress and smiled, and a few rainbow-tinted braids fell alongside her face.

  “So, you’re the great Cordovans?” Morrigan asked. “Medical saviors.”

  “Easy, there, precious,” Fisher gushed, catching her elbow and touching her swollen cheek. “What happened here?”

  “My patient,” Morrigan said, spitting the word. “She needs your help. Not me.”

  “Morrigan, you could use some help, too,” Danny said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Don’t Detox me. I know what I’m doing,” she snapped.

  Fisher pressed a small device to Morrigan’s cheek, and Morrigan went ballistic. With a shriek, she shoved Fisher back and pulled a mini dart from her gem-studded belt. Danny snatched her weapon away, then pulled her to his chest, out of Fisher’s reach.

  “What is that?” Danny asked with a nod to the device.

  “Basic scanning device. Would you mind if I treated her wound?”

  “You’re here for Amanda, not me. Amanda!” Morrigan ranted, pointing up at the catwalk. Tray glanced up, but Amanda wasn’t there.

  Closing her eyes, Morrigan leaned into Danny, fisting the sleeves of his shirt.

  “I’ve got you, Morrigan,” he murmured, shifting the tiara in her hair so the combs wouldn’t scratch her face.

  “She’s the doctor you’ve allowed to treat your schizophrenic patient?” Fisher asked.

  “Yes. We also have Saskia, who acts as medic on board,” Tray said. “And we’re wary of receiving unsolicited treatments from strangers.”

  “I see. I will explain and ask permission before I attempt future diagnoses,” Fisher said. “Doctor, why don’t we retire to your office? I’d like to see the medications you’ve given yourself and what you have been giving to your other patients.”

  “You’re here for Amanda,” Morrigan repeated. Fisher nodded and motioned Morrigan to lead the way. Morrigan swished her skirt, heading for the infirmary, her step
deceptively stable. Tray started to follow, but Danny took his arm and shook his head.

  “I would like to interview the schizophrenic patient. The one that I came for,” Ian said.

  “Of course,” Danny said. “Saskia, can you…”

  “Yes, sir,” Saskia agreed, motioning Ian to follow.

  “I guess the buffet is out,” Tray commented, frowning at the strange interaction. His second impression of the Cordovans was only slightly less discouraging than the first.

  “I am starving. What did you make?” Danny asked.

  “All the fresh food we have left,” Tray said. “And bread for Hawk. Why isn’t Hawk here?”

  “I’ll catch you up. Let’s get Corin and Chase and go someplace they won’t find us for a while.”

  “We’re not eating with our guests?”

  Danny shook his head. “Only if you want to be interrogated about your genitals.”

  11

  Amanda shuffled a deck of cards, but her hands were stiff and cold, and a few fell onto the tea table. Her mom sat across from her, talking about the efficacy of sub-dermal medicine capsules and why Amanda should have allowed Morrigan to inject her. Amanda studied the hallucination, trying to see if Saskia was on the other side, and whether she should deal the cards. She dealt a hand anyway, just in case. The cards stayed face down on the table. Amanda reached for them, but her mom stayed her hand.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t remember. You know what you did was wrong,” her mom said. A flash of guilt came over her, Morrigan’s bloodied face burned in her memory.

  “She won’t let me apologize,” Amanda said. “She thinks I’m beyond help, and she blames herself.”

  “You are beyond help. You’re dead. Dead people don’t need a future. They are the past,” her mom said, her green eyes narrowing, her frown deepening.

  The door to her quarters opened and Saskia peeked in. The hallucination of her mom appeared behind Saskia, holding a shiv to Saskia’s neck.

  “Can you come out?” Saskia asked. It was all Amanda could do not to react to the threat of the hallucination.