Ellie Quin Episode 5: A Girl Reborn (15 page)

‘What about the fabricant that attacked Ellie?’ said Jez.

‘Jesus! That was an accident! That was a-’

Shelby cut in. ‘Graham, I had Frasier take a sample and we analysed it. The pheromone safety mechanism was tampered with. There was a last minute growth stage override. The safety mechanism was deliberately
disabled
.’

‘That giant scorpion thing nearly killed Ellie,’ said Jez. ‘You gonna tell us what the-freg-happened there?’

‘I…’ he swallowed nervously. He looked from one to the other, for someone who might take his side. ‘Look, guys, I really don’t know what went wrong back
there! I didn’t
tamper with anything!
I haven’t messed with any goddamn records of staff…I…’

‘Why did you want my friend dead?’ snapped Jez. ‘Is it because I said I was going to leave WonderWorld with her when that shuttle comes?’

‘What?!’ His jaw hung open. ‘What? You think…you really think I tried to
murder her
?!’

Jez pursed her lips. ‘Well, it all fits. You figured without her around I’d decide to stay on here, right?'

‘That’s totally fregging crazy! Jez? Seriously? You think..? Guys, this is totally screwed up, man! You guys are being delusional! You-’

Shelby raised his hand. ‘Actually, I believe Graham is not lying about any of this.’

‘Uh?’ He turned to Shelby, his mouth slack and open.

‘I actually do believe you. I don’t think
you
tampered with the fabricant’s design.’

Gray’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t been expecting Shelby to side with him. He sat back and let out a sigh of relief. ‘Well thank fregg
somebody
believes I’m not a complete psycho!’ His expression of relief changed to anger. ‘And thank you…ladies, by the way, for accusing me like that! Jesus, fregging Christ, I’m not a murderer!’ He looked pointedly at Jez. ‘And thank
you
in particular,
babe
.’

Jez turned to Shelby. ‘How come you’re so freggin' sure he’s not lying to us?’

Shelby didn’t reply. Instead he raised a finger to shush her, again.

Jez bit her lip, balled her fists and scowled at him. Shelby suddenly smashed his glass against the arm of his chair. Shards cascaded down onto the sand.

'What the hell?!!'

He reached down and picked up a long jagged piece of glass, stood up and took several menacing steps towards Gray. 'I am going to cut your throat, Graham.'

Gray lurched backwards, his chair toppled over and dumped him on the sand. 'Shelbs! Dude! What the fuck are you doing!'

'Graham, I fully intend to kill you now. Now please hold still while I do this!'

'OhMyGod!' cried Ellie. 'Shelby! Stop! Stop!'

He took another step forward the razor sharp point of glass held out towards Gray's face. 'What the fu…fu….what's wrong with you, man!'

Shelby advanced. 'Prepare to die Graham!' He shouted loudly.

Jez leapt forward out of her chair, grabbed his wrist and twisted it savagely, then brought a knee up into his groin. He yelped with pain then dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He rolled on the sand, clutching his balls and moaning in agony.

'Jesus Christ!' Gray's laid back demeanour was gone. He stared up wide-eyed at the girls. 'He was gonna…he was gonna to fucking kill-'

'No!…..I…..wasn't….' cried Shelby. They all looked down at him. 'Test!…' He whimpered. 'It….was a….test!' He rolled his eyes. 'Oh, God…I think…I'm going to throw up.'

Jez kicked away the shard of glass then dropped down hard on him, astride his chest, her knees effortlessly pinning down his thin arms. '
You're
the killer!' she snarled. 'You did it, right?'

'No!' he whimpered. 'It was a test!!! A TEST!'

She jammed her forearm across his throat. 'You pale-ass crud-fregg, you're under Jez-arrest! You-'

'Mother!' shouted Gray.

There was no reply. They listened to the sea gently rolling up the beach, the soft rustle of the palm trees leaves, and Shelby wheezing in Jez's stranglehold.

'Let him go,' said Gray.

'Huh? He just tried to-'

'I know what he was doing! Let him go!' Gray reached down, grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly off. 'He was testing Mother.'

Shelby sat up slowly, rubbing his neck with one hand and massaging his groin with the other. 'Oh…I'm going to throw up. I'm going to…'

'Mother!' shouted Gray again.

No answer. He squatted down beside him. 'You okay, mate?'

Shelby managed to nod. 'She…she would have….intervened…if…if…'

Jez was sitting on the sand, bemused. 'What the fregg is going on?' She looked at Ellie.

'Shelby was double checking Mother's not listening in on us,' answered Ellie. 'Right? I mean…I hope?'

Shelby nodded again. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he continued to nurse his aching groin. 'That…really…hurt…' He retched. 'A lot.'

Gray snorted. 'She got you a good one there, buddy.'

'Well, I thought he was going to kill you,' said Jez defensively. 'Knee to the balls is what you're supposed to do.'

'You did the uh….the
right
thing, Jez,' said Ellie.

'I suppose I've got to apologise to him now, huh?'

Shelby waved at her not to bother. 'Graham…' he wheezed. 'We have a big problem.'

'Don't tell me it's Mother…man, please. She runs this'

'It is, she lied to me Graham. She lied to me.'

'Are you sure? I mean, she can't do that. mate.'

He looked at Gray. ‘Mother lied to me Graham. She deliberately declared a falsehood to me.’

‘You’re certain? Absolutely certain?’

‘Oh, I’m certain.’

He puffed air out. ‘Okay, man…then…
shit
.’

‘That’s not good, is it?’ said Ellie.

‘No, not good.’ Gray lowered his voice. ‘That’s pretty seriously not good.’

CHAPTER 21

Mason met the man in a fast food place called StarBurgers. It made sense, this pedestrian plaza was busy and noisy. The city-wide panic over rationing had finally settled down because the Administration and the marines had delivered on their promise to keep supplies coming. Luxuries were off the menu, but the staples; protein bricks (compressed blocks of dried protein concentrate, that when rehydrated, became the basic paste), carb-powders, vitamin boosters and meds were getting through. The planet had it’s own water supply feeding down from the melt-water at the north pole.

The city was getting by, almost back to normal, living off flavoured, textured and shaped protein gunk and for this particular fast food chain it seemed it was pretty much business as usual.

‘They have arranged transport for you,’ said the man. The same man as last time. He rubbed at the dry, red patches of scraped-raw skin beneath his jaw.

‘You know, lazer depilation is far easier on the skin than a razor? And far less noticeable, by the way.’

The man’s dark brows knitted together into a frown. ‘If…I
have to
shave, I prefer to do it the old fashioned way. With a knife and soap.’

Mason looked around. They were sitting on stools by the window, looking down on a lower street plaza and an unlicensed bring-swap-buy marketplace.

‘So what happens now?’

‘In two days. A ship will orbit near the southern pole. It will send down a surface barge. I have the coordinates. I will take you there.’

‘How?’ The question he was asking was obvious. How were they going to get out of New Haven? The four main exits were guarded. Only surface transport pilots with the correct permission slips were being let in or out.

‘There are ways. Tunnels. Immigrants who can afford the passage price use them. I have already made the arrangements. There will be a surface shuttle waiting.’

‘What about the ship taking me offworld?’

‘What about it?’

‘Can I trust the crew?’

‘They are sympathisers…and they have been paid generously.’

‘So was the captain who
should
’
ve
taken the girl to GateWay, but that apparently didn’t help her at all.’

‘That man has been dealt with.’

Mason didn’t want to know how. He’d probably been dealt with
permanently
by these people. And painfully too.

‘The captain of this ship is an Awoken sympathiser. I assure you, you can trust him.’

Mason nodded. ‘And I will be meeting her alone? As I requested?’

‘It will be just you. No one else.’

‘Good.’ Mason picked up the greasy slab of synthetic food in front of him and bit into it, mostly to make sure he was blending in with all the other patrons. He was used to
cultured
dining, the canteens aboard the vast orbital labs over Pacifica had real, human chefs working there. He was hungry though, hungry enough to eat this crap. The protein-paste burger spurted warm, meat-flavoured grease across his tongue.

‘Tell them I appreciate the trust they are putting in me.’

The man shrugged. ‘They tell me, you, of all people are the best one to make contact with her.’

Mason smiled. The First and Last, the man he'd met just a few times many years ago seemed to have a blind trust in him.

'You are as close to a father figure to her as any person.'

'That's right.'

In a way there was far more of
him
in her than her biological parents. Not his own DNA, of course. He’d been sorely tempted. He’d toyed with the idea of making her his
actual
daughter. But it would have been a foolish act of vanity. Any DNA traces she left in her wake would link directly to him.

No, she was his…the same way an author’s soul exists in their published works. There were large sequences of code that he’d carefully written. As a writer might describe his protagonist in words, so Mason had crafted Ellie Quin with genetic code. Surely, as the creation of his mind, rather than a packet of inherited, hand-me-down DNA, made their bond that much more meaningful. She was surely far more
his
daughter than she had been Mr and Mrs Quin’s.

His mind drifted back again to that very first meeting with their leader, ‘The First and The Last’. After two decades of the rapid growth of his cult, even after all that time, with so many millions of followers on hundreds of worlds, his true name remained a mystery to everyone. It was rumoured that only a handful of his most trusted advisors knew the world he was born on, and nothing more than that.

Anonymity…that’s what he'd chosen…to have no name, to have no past. To remain an enigmatic phantom who the Administration would never be able to identify let alone catch.

All those years ago the man had presented Mason with a cryogenically frozen shred of material. Mason remembered wafting aside the vapours of nitrogen, looking down inside that small refrigerated box and seeing a ripped corner of a woven material, yellowed with age.

‘
This contains the blood of God
’
s son
.’

He saw the material was faintly spotted; the slightest darkening of some kind of liquid stain. It might have been blood. It could just as easily have been a coffee spill.

‘
What is this?
’

‘
It is linen. A traditional woven Old Earth fabric
.’

‘
And you
’
re telling me that
’
s blood?
’

The man nodded.

‘
So
…
what? Is it a bandage of some sort?
’

The man shook his head
. ‘
It was a burial shroud
.’

Mason’s knowledge of Old Earth religious history was foggy at best. He knew this man and his cult borrowed heavily from those old mythologies and their beliefs in various prophets.

‘
It contains the blood of The Jesus Christ. God
’
s first true prophet and his son in spirit and soul and flesh
.’

Mason understood then, why the man was showing him this threadbare relic.

‘
You want me to extract the DNA from this?
’

He nodded. ‘
This material came into my hands, and now I have brought it to you. God wills this to be
.’

Mason had been confused. ‘
I
’
m not sure I understand
…’

‘
It is a far different universe this time around. Humans have muddied the water, clouded the skies and God struggles hard to even see us, let alone reach out to
us.
’ The man stared down at the shred of material. ‘
Technology is the wall between us. With the Administration
’
s foolish meddling and control of our genes there has been no way for Him to reach out to us
…
to send us his last prophet
’

‘
God? Surely
…’ Mason chose his words carefully, ‘
He
’
s God? Surely he can make what he wants to happen
…
happen?
’

‘
Only with our help now
…
with
your
help
.’

Mason had stifled an urge to laugh out loud. The man was clearly quite serious.

‘
You want me to grow a
…
grow
…
Jesus?
’

‘
Merely to facilitate the process
…
to help God send his son to us
.’

Mason had decided to go along with him. Of course he had. By agreeing to help, he had at his disposal the resources of this man and his rapidly growing cult.

The relic…that tattered corner of shroud was entrusted to him. Mason did what was expected. Back at the laboratory complex in orbit above Pacifica, in his personal labs, he had bathed the material in a neutral carrier solution and studied the information that leaked out from it. Yes, there were traces of human DNA in there. The dark stain might well have once been blood. Or sweat, or urine, or faeces. However, the fragments of DNA swirling around came from quite a number of humans, dozens of them in fact. There was no telling how many pairs of hands had handled this corner of linen over the thousands of years it had existed.

What he had in his petri dish was utterly useless.

And even if he had managed to extract a single cohesive human genome, he’d never had any real intention of using it. All he’d be doing is replicating the genes of some long ago crucified criminal, or some random monk, or abbot, or roman soldier. Mason had clearly explained to The First And Last, that this valuable relic would be damaged beyond repair by the extraction process. The material would probably break down into a mush. There’d be nothing left to hand back to him. The man understood. He’d replied that the piece of shroud was of no importance…it was merely a delivery medium. He didn’t expect to have it returned.