Approaching Oblivion (Jezebel's Ladder Book 4) (7 page)

“Yes.
Before Red, one in five talented girls with talented mothers died before their
first birthday. When they found out I was Active but my three sisters weren’t,
the doctors put us through all kinds of chemical comparisons to find out
how
I was a freak.”

Auckland
looked up from his controls. “I read about you
in the case files. You’re Betty Beta?”

Mercy
laughed at her designation in the literature. “The second natural-born Active
in history. I heard Alpha died before my parents even met. Being the oldest
survivor had its price. Sometimes Fortune Enterprises would skin-test new drugs
on me because I was so sensitive. If I didn’t react to it, other Active
children wouldn’t either.”

“Sounds
unpleasant,” Lou said.

“The
Hollises were like family. It was worth it. The things they found helped Red
survive.”

“You
were pretty brave.”

“It
hasn’t been a picnic for her either. Treatments developed from her biochemistry
lowered the female loss rate to one in twenty, but the lost children usually
have something wrong with them anyway.”

“And
boys? We’re having one, by the way.”

She
took a ragged breath and counted to ten to avoid spilling her emotions. “Boys
are trickier. Four out of five boys die when the mother has multiple
talents—usually caused by rejection similar to when the mother and baby have
conflicting blood types.” Her tongue and eyelids felt thick and heavy.

Lou
jerked back. “Wow. You knew the risks, and you still went through with this?”

“He’ll
have your hair.”

Tears
poured down his cheeks. “Not very logical.”

“No.
Come here.”

He
leaned closer and touched foreheads with her. The world closed to just the two
of them, linked. “How will it be okay?”

“I
don’t know,” she admitted, quoting one of Red’s favorite movies. “It’s a
mystery.” Beyond hope, she thought,
Sensei fixed my breast cancer. Maybe he
fixed something else in me.

Lou
sang “Have I Told You Lately” to her, and they held each other until the doctor
separated them.

She
prayed silently that the doctors could save her little boy’s life. This time,
the veil fell more slowly.

For twenty days, Lou had
waited to be with her. The worry and loneliness had almost killed him. He
couldn’t smell, feel, or sense her through the link when she was in stasis.
There was a Mercy-shaped void in the world. He had been so despondent that the
other crew members had to forcibly bathe him and trim his hair before his
visit. After he said good-bye to Mercy, Auckland gave him the news. Any new medicine
would take at least six months to synthesize—ten times the hell that he’d
already faced. Wanting to kick the shit out of something, Lou went to the Olympus cafeteria. Maybe coffee would help.

Coasting
into the dining area, he heard Toby grumbling, “Everyone has an emergency. It
never ends.”

Lou
held out a hand toward the voice and recognized the warm glow of familiar human
presence within a meter—Zeiss. It wasn’t great range for a sensing talent, but
it kept him from smacking into people.
If only doorframes were this easy.
“Z, could I have a word alone with the prisoner? It’s personal. I promise I
won’t hurt him.”

Zeiss
sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Come
on,” Lou pleaded. “I just found out that my wife is some famous guinea pig
called Betty Beta.”

“Mira
owes her. Mercy didn’t say a word to us,” Zeiss said.

“She
wouldn’t have told me, but the drugs were pretty strong,” Lou explained. “I
wanted to chat with the test-tube wonder here to see if that buys us anything
medically.”

Zeiss’
chair squeaked as it slid away from the table. “I’ll take a stroll around the
boardwalk. You can play guard till he’s done with his lunch break. No bruises.”

“How
do you know I won’t overpower him?” asked Toby.

The
commander harrumphed. “He still practices hand-to-hand and bench-presses more
than you weigh.”

After
Zeiss departed, Lou said casually, “Can I get you a beer?”

“On
my meds? Not a chance.” Toby wasted no time squashing Lou’s hope. “Nothing I
learned in school or since will do Mercy any good.”

“You
promised Yvette that you’d help.”

“I
have. From what I’ve determined, only two things have a chance of success. Red
was only born because her aunt carried her as a surrogate. There are several
interesting theories in the literature for why this avoided problems. The most
popular theory is that the Magi, with all their fixation for threes, have three
genders. The talent-neutral surrogate serves the role of this third parent, the
repository for the gametes of the other two. An alternate theory claims the
Magi progress past gender in the final stage of life, and only this mature,
sterile form can manifest talents.”

Lou
converted the theory into actions. “So we find someone here to serve as an
incubator. How hard could that be?”

“Well,
of the bottom half of the talent pool, half have no usable uterus and the other
half hate Mercy’s guts—not likely,” Toby replied. “The closest candidate I
found was Risa Herkemer. She might do it if Red asked her, but she’s still a
little too strong talent-wise. When we try to transplant the embryo, there’s
about a 40 percent chance you’ll lose your first offspring immediately and
another 20 percent chance Risa won’t be able to carry to term.”

“That’s
still double the chance he has now.”

“Maybe,
but Mercy might not be able to have another child afterward. The other method
takes longer but is less dangerous for everyone.”

Lou
scratched his beard. “You actually care about Mercy after she broke your nose?”

“Mercy
is helping Yvette to heal. I need that hope.”

“You
actually think you’re ever going to get laid again in this lifetime?”

“My
odds are better than yours at this point, loser,” Toby said in a low growl.

Lou
wanted to paste the smug wanker. He wanted to make him squeal and beg. Instead,
he swallowed. “
I gave you a huge pass on the blinding and torturing thing.
This rivalry is over between us. I was wrong to mock your hope. I understand
how important family is. Mercy said what Yvette sacrificed saved your immortal
soul. I know how that feels, too. We can start with that common ground.
What’s option number two?”

Toby
leaned close to whisper, “Let me read Fortune’s memistor cache. That fabric
holds more than the electronic files we brought with us.”

“The
whole Library of Congress. So?”

“More.
It has black files on Active genetics that even the UN doesn’t know about.”

“The
double-naught files?”

“You’ve
seen them?”

“Yeah.
I’m second in command. I used them to confirm Red was who she said she was. I
can grant access. What do you need?”

“The
Wannamaker files.”

“That
Nazi who designed those bloody evil guard dogs with a paralytic bite? The one
who actually constructed those Oz poppy fields in Siberia that put people to
sleep?”

“Yes,
but those were just the military applications of genetic manipulation. He was
also decades ahead with the human genome.”

“Somehow,
I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Herr
Dr. Wannamaker designed Red’s Aunt Nena—she was a
clone
.” Toby stopped, clearly
unwilling to share more information than he had to.

“Wow.
I always thought her ass was a little too perfect for a forty-year-old. While
that’s mind blowing, I still can’t give you access.”

“I
think Wannamaker designed her to avoid the rejection problem.”

“Why?”

“His
first clone attempt was a male, which took over a hundred attempts to succeed.
You know him as Seth Wannamaker.”

The
conversation paused while Lou pondered the implications. The patronizing
bastard might be able to do it. “Didn’t he have
serious
weight problems,
like nine chins and fatal stress on his heart?”

“A
byproduct of Wannamaker trying to make his image immortal,” said Toby
dismissively. “We can avoid that pitfall. Studying his mistakes and the
corresponding changes he made in his breeding program, I think I can rebalance
Mercy’s body chemistry enough for Stu to be born.”

That
was the magic phrase. “And no one else finds out?” Lou asked. “You don’t take
anything else from the double-aught files?”

“I
swear.”

Why
did this feel like handing Poland to Hitler? “Deal. I’ll have it on your desk
by the end of the day. The password is CLAUDETTE, all capitals.”

Lou
stepped out into the control room and signaled Zeiss to resume escort duty.
He’d just closed the door to the dining area when he heard Yuki spit,
“Hypocrite pricks.”

Lou
almost had a heart attack. However, he hadn’t survived as a blatant womanizer
for as long as he had without quick damage-control reflexes. He floated over to
her and turned on the charm. “Let’s talk about this.”

“How
dare he call me a useless, low talent? And you let him.”

“You’re
not.”
How did she overhear that?
“I didn’t correct him because I need
him.”

“And
you don’t need me anymore,” Yuki pouted.

He
felt her try to storm away, so he grabbed for her arm and missed.

“Not
so easy with me, is it?” she snapped.

“Please,
I’ll do anything you want. You can have my allotment.”

“Screw
you.”

“You
saved Mercy. It’s the least I can do. Step into my room, please. We’ll talk
about it . . . like friends.” Opening the bedroom door behind her, he actually
batted his eyelashes over his sad face.

“What?
You’ve already been in bed with the Nazis, and now you’re going for the
Japanese?”

The
only time that term had been used was in a private conversation in a closed
room. Of course, her job was espionage.
She has to be using a bug,
he
decided. Before he could confront her, he heard Zeiss approaching.

“Shh!”
Lou begged.

She
ducked inside the bedroom without a word.

He
followed her inside and asked, “What do you want from me?”

The
woman was moments from weeping when she asked, “I want to know why
you
picked Mercy and not me.”

Lou sat down and opened a mason jar
of beer from the cooler on his floor. This was going to be a long one. “You
were fun, but I never kidded myself. It was always about advantage, prestige,
and what you could gain.”

“I was a generous lover.”

He chuckled, remembering their
showers together. “Oh yes, but Mercy supports me in ways I didn’t even know I
needed. I turn around and it’s there—like having another, smarter me looking
out for my interests.”

“So, smart is the new sexy?”

“Mercy always cares, always gives.”

“I know. So it’s all fireworks?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,
but sex isn’t everything. Sex is like the postcard you buy after visiting
Neuschwanstein, but a relationship is the real castle you have together. I
scrub pots with her a few hours a day . . . and even that’s not bad.”

“So you didn’t drop me because of
my arm?”

Silence. He looked down in shame
because he had.

“Well you’re a cripple now, too,”
Yuki accused. He could hear the hurt little girl in her tone. “You’re missing
eyes. Pretty soon, you’ll get fat and bald, and maybe she’ll move on.”

God, I hope she doesn’t cry,
because I cannot hold her.
“I worried about that for a while, but she’s
been with me through my lowest point. If I don’t screw it up, she’s here to
stay.”

“How do you think you’ll screw it
up?”

“Yuki, as a single man, I was a total
asshole.”

“And putting on a ring cured you?”

“Ease up. I’m admitting that
you—all of you women—deserved better. Every day, I dedicate myself to making
her happy. Well, not true. I can’t make her anything. I pay attention. I choose
to make her a priority. I tell her every way I can that I want to spend the
rest of my life with her, and thank her.”

“What for?”

“Other than the ability to pilot
again? I’m going to be a
dad
, Yuki.”

“I never pictured you being content
with little Suzie homemaker.”

“She snuck up on me, too. Some of
her ideas of marriage are a little unrealistic. She lays my clothes out every
day because that’s what her mom did for her dad.”

“You had trouble coordinating
colors before you lost your sight. She winces if people have clashing shades of
green. Recognize it as a form of love. You’ll cope.”

“I do my best. Can you imagine me
not
swearing?” Lou shook his head. “She’s making me train to be an English and History
teacher for crap’s sake—for the kids.”

“You’re a good talker. I could see
that . . . as long as you steer clear of limericks.” To demonstrate her
forgiveness, Yuki grabbed the beer out of his hand and took a swig. “Where does
that leave me now that even Toby has dumped me?”

“Sojiro needs a new roommate,” he
suggested, taking his last jar of the week out of the cooler.

“You do know he’s gay.”

“Yeah, but he cleans. You’re a
freaking slob. You’d rather live in the women’s dorm? Yvette spends most of her
time with my girl or crying.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah, I have them, too.”

“We could start a club.”

They had a long chat about his
failings as a boyfriend and several epic breakups, one of which ended with a
spray-paint job on his Ducati. Lou felt the need to sum up his experience. “There’s
something good in every moment I spend with Mercy. I never understood that when
I was reading Plato.”

“Sorry, I never studied Philosophy.
Engineers don’t get credit for that.”

“Over drinks one day, Plato told
the story of a man who came back from the dead. This guy jumped off his funeral
pyre and scared the piss out of everyone. Then he described how the dead drink from
the river Lethe to forget their old lives and draw lots for their next. Some
would be kings and others peasants, but Fate guaranteed that there was enough
good in every lot to be happy.”

“My lot in life,” Yuki mused.

“His point was not to let the bad
stuff get in your way. A few years from now, kids are going to be studying our
mission in school. Think about that—studying you. They’re already watching your
tour of the ship on that tape we sent back. The history teacher will tell them
how in spite of my blindness, Auckland’s damaged hemoglobin, and your hangnail,
we represented our species and kicked ass. It’s not the size of the dog in the
fight, Yuki; it’s the size of the fight in the dog. Speaking of which, you need
to pick a hand-to-hand technique and get your proficiency. I’ll ask around for
someone to work out with you.”

“You’d do that?”

“For a friend. I’m making the
allotment donation, too. For winter, I already have a one-of-a-kind sweater that
Mercy knitted for me. I don’t need anything else but her safe return . . . and
your good will.”