Emergent (A Beta Novel) (23 page)

“By killing them,” Tahir points out. “Dr. Lusardi wanted to experiment with teenaged clones, which no one had done before.”

Xander has barely touched the food on his plate. He quietly notes, “This is exactly the scenario the Replicant Rights Commission had been trying to protect against. Both criminals and
their clones—being treated like dirt, without rights, used for research.”

Tahir turns to me to conclude the explanation. “The Five were euthanized and then remade into clones. Three of those clones died not long after. The remaining two, Tarquin and Tamsin, are
known as the Terrible Ts.”

Tariq says, “Justice, however illicit, was believed to have been served. The world was told that the Five were killed in prison, murdered by other prisoners. Dr. Lusardi knew that no
families would ever come to claim the Five’s bodies and dispute the claim. It’s important to remember that the lie benefited the families of those who had lost loved ones in the
bombing. They finally got peace, knowing their loved ones’ murderers had been callously murdered in return.”

“That’s peace? Even when it’s a lie?” Xander asks.

Bahiyya says, “A lie for the greater good.” She says it like she believes it.

“Do I get to meet the other Betas?” I ask. I look at Tahir, who nods across the table at me in understanding. Until today, I thought Tahir was the only teenager on Demesne like me. I
want to know everything about the Terrible Ts.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” says Bahiyya.

“Please,” I request of her, my face set to
poignant
.

“As you wish, dear,” says Bahiyya. “But you may not like what you find.”

MY CLONE’S BOYFRIEND IS QUITE
the risk-taker, just like his own First was. Tahir looks great in a wet suit too.

“Ready, gang?” Tahir asks me, Elysia, and Xander. “Time to swim with the sharks.”

As if their aboveground limestone palace carved over the sea was not grand enough, the Fortesquieus’ architect added one bit of flourish that none of the other homes on Demesne have: a
subterranean aquarium. It’s like a massive, very deep indoor pool, surrounded on three sides by limestone walls, and the fourth side by glass, for viewing. We stand on the viewing bridge
built over it, looking down to a custom-crafted, opulent view of marine life. Schools of tropical fish dart through the artificial coral reefs, visions of oranges, blacks, pinks, reds, greens, and
yellows, patterned in multicolored stripes and dots. Deeper down, two small sharks circle, waiting.

“We’re sure about this?” I ask Tahir.

“Trust me,” Tahir says, shooting me that sizzle of a smile that makes me understand why Elysia adores him.

“Classic Z-Dev dive,” Xander says, laughing as he looks down at the sharks. If Tahir looks mighty fine in his black wet suit, Xander looks off-the-charts delicious in his, like a
real live man of iron, with heavenly turquoise eyes and blond hair.

“They really are cloned sharks,” Elysia assures me, sensing my apprehension. “Neutered. They’re not programmed to hunt humans. They don’t even eat the fish swimming
down there. They only eat custom meals prepared by the marine chef.” She places the oxygen hood that fits like a stocking over her head, and Tahir secures it to her wet suit so that water
can’t seep through. I place my oxygen hood on too, and Xander secures mine in the same way. I’m amazed by the marine vision goggles in the hood that make the aquarium below appear even
brighter and more beautiful. Before, the aquarium was blue and bright. Now, it’s translucently blue, the fishes’ array of colors more bold, and the sharks below kind of look like teddy
bears now. All part of the relaxing Demesne experience, down to the wet suits.

In Cerulea, our deep-sea diving equipment at the aquatics club consisted of ancient relics requiring cumbersome oxygen tanks strapped to the back of the wet suit, linked by a regulator hose to
the oxygen helmet. The Demesne wet suits are just that—wet suits, but with self-generating oxygen packs lined through the bodysuit, adding no bulk to weigh down deepwater exploration. The
suits are linked to a breath mask that fits over the mouth of the hood, allowing the swimmer to breathe for long periods of time while underwater. The hoods also have audio feeds, offering live
conversation among the swimmers.

If we swim with the sharks, we can talk privately, away from the unseen but ubiquitous surveillance in every other part of the Fortesquieu compound. There’s nothing to do but trust that
the sharks are as cute and cuddly as they appear through the hood’s vision holes.

I look at Elysia, standing next to me on the viewing bridge. “One synchro?” I ask her. While we still can, I think.

I can’t see her face’s reaction but I hear her laugh. “Sure,” she answers. “I’m game.”

Xander gives me a hand to step up onto the railing, while Tahir does the same for Elysia.

Easily slipping back into coach mode, Xander says, “Not enough height here for sophisticated dives, and no board length for an approach. Go with an easy degree of difficulty.”

“Forward somersault with a twist,” Elysia and I both say at the same time.

We assume a starting position, our toes curled over the rail, stance firm, our arms up next to our ears. I want to laugh, thinking,
So this is where my Olympic dream ends. Synchro diving
with my clone into a subterranean shark aquarium on Demesne. Okay, then. Let’s go!

“Hut!” Xander calls out, and immediately Elysia and I throw our arms down to the middle of our bodies and lift off. Once ascended, our arms go outward and our bodies fold into pike
position. At the dive’s peak, we flatten our bodies into vertical position and rotate our upper bodies, our arms tightly squeezed against our torsos as we plunge into the water.

I didn’t even have to see Elysia’s dive to know it aligned beautifully with mine. Maybe it worked because it was so spontaneous and unrehearsed; I totally sensed her uniform
calibration to mine. The sharks can gobble me right up, I’m so giddy from the dive. I’ll happily conclude my diving career on this very weird note.

Although I have the years of practice conditioning me to rise to the surface after a dive, here I don’t have to. Instead, I swim toward Elysia, who high-fives me underwater.

Tahir and Xander dive down into the water behind us.

“That was kinky as hell. Amazing!” says Tahir’s voice in my ears.

Even the sharks approve. The fish dispersed at the impact of our dives, but the two sharks swim alongside me and Elysia as if congratulating us.

“Perfect ten,” says Xander. I hear that gravel voice praising me, and my heart feels punished with want. Why can’t I get over him? Here beneath the water, our familiar place,
he appears extra intoxicating through my vision goggles. Aquine perfect, times a million, masterfully swimming through translucent blue water as a school of fish return to our spot, surrounding him
in a rainbow of colors.

The aquarium is easily the size of an Olympic pool, giving us lots of room to explore. Xander leads us into a coral reef shaped like a dome. “Stop here,” he says. “Not sure if
this will work underwater, but we’re about to find out.”

Xander points his finger at the reef’s roof above us. Suddenly, Aidan’s face appears!

“What?” I cry out. “How?”

Xander says, “It’s a holo-message he quickly recorded just as the assault began on Heathen, while you and Elysia were in the Mosh Cave. Aidan had copied his technology to my
bloodstream as a precaution a few days before. For obvious reasons, I could only show you this in a safe, sheltered space.”

“Zhara,” says Aidan, and hearing him say my name again, my heart bleeds in confusion, given that his voice and image are beaming directly from Xander’s extended hand. “If
you can see this, I’m probably dead.” Aidan’s hard face does not look traumatized or upset; he’s typically matter-of-fact in the assumption of his death. The sounds of
explosions in the distance can be heard behind the cave wall where he’s speaking. “I want you to know the last few months on Heathen with you were the best experiences of my life. Thank
you for sharing the mission with us. If I didn’t die, and we are separated, know this: The original Defects built a hidden bunker beneath Lusardi’s compound on Demesne. If there’s
a chance for Insurrection to live on, I will find you there.” Just as quickly as he came alive on the coral reef, Aidan’s face disappears.

Elysia swims to my side and gives me a comforting rub on my arm as I process the information. I don’t know what to feel. I’ve been too scared to be hopeful that Aidan survived. Now,
I have to insist on that hope.

“So what’s the plan?” Tahir asks, getting down to business. “We don’t have much time.”

“There isn’t one,” Xander informs us. “The odds are so stacked against us that maybe the best way to act is without a plan. Maybe waiting for the right opportunity is
what has squandered previous opportunities.”

“We don’t think,” says Tahir. “We just do.”

“Just like our synchro dive,” says Elysia. I feel her assurance:
We can conceivably accomplish the unlikely, unrehearsed.

From outside the coral reef dome, the sharks hungrily dart upward, and we follow. Their food is being thrown to them from the bridge, where we see Bahiyya standing. We swim to the surface and
remove our hoods.

“Hello!” Bahiyya greets us amiably. “I’m so happy you’re enjoying our indoor pool. Enjoy this last swim, my darlings! Tariq has requested a security sweep of the
compound. The engineers arrive this afternoon. As a result, the aquarium will be out of commission for diving indefinitely.”

“THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN,”
says Elysia to me. She’s followed me to my quarters after our deep dive in the aquarium. She rummages
through the clothes in the wardrobe in my bedroom, distractedly picking through dresses and blouses that were originally custom made for her when she came to visit the Fortesquieus on
“loan,” when she was still owned by the Governor and Mother, the thought of which makes me crazy with anger.

“Agreed,” I say, pulling out a magenta frock that would complement Elysia’s fuchsia eyes only too well. I put it back into the wardrobe and pull out a basic black dress to
throw on after I shower.

“That one’s too tight in the chest,” says Elysia. She throws me a peach-colored sundress. “This will look nice with your brown eyes.” She sounds
envious
. My
brown eyes humanize me. Elysia’s announce her inferior status.

“Thanks, but I think I can figure out how to dress myself. What are you doing in here? Don’t you prefer to be alone with Tahir any chance possible?” I think of seeing
Aidan’s face again in the coral reef dome, and I wish I could have the second chance that Elysia is having.

“Soon enough,” Elysia says cryptically.

At the opposite end of my room, a clone maid is tidying up the area with a feather duster. The maid looks almost like a perfect blond doll that I used to play with as a child—straw-haired,
thin but curvy, fresh-faced. The maid’s First could have been a girl I went to high school with, for all I know. The maid looks so young, or maybe it’s that after everything I’ve
been through since leaving Cerulea, I feel so old.

Elysia looks at the maid, then back at me. She mouths the question
Spy?

I shrug. Could be. All this money and technology and the Demesne architects couldn’t also eliminate dust from their atmosphere? Certainly the sudden “security sweep” of the
aquarium was alarming. The Fortesquieus have warmly welcomed us—but there’s clearly an abundance of distrust on the island, despite the failure of the Insurrection and the takeover by
ReplicaPharm.

The island is more vulnerable than ever, I realize, because it’s in a time of transition. Soon, the takeover and “security sweeps” will be entrenched—and intractable.

“Xander was right. Now is the time,” I murmur to Elysia.

Within days, Xander’s extradition will probably be approved. Security holes exposing any vulnerabilities on Demesne from the ReplicaPharm transition will be fixed and closed. We
can’t wait again, like we did on Heathen.

“Tahir and I are just Awful enough to make it happen,” Elysia says with a smile. She leads me to the corner of the room where there’s a standing globe on display. She spins it
around, and when it finally stops, she places her finger on Humanitas. “Will we go Awful here?” she asks me, then places her finger on the Mainland. “Or here?” She’s
trying to tell me something, but I’m not sure what. “Will you come?”