The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption (57 page)

“I, too, am curious to learn more of your
beta test of Mr. Moore’s carousel metaverse,” echoed Spud, joining
us.

“Not much to tell,” John said, winking at
Aliyah. “All it takes is time.”

Seeing Spud’s raised eyebrow, John laughed.
“About a month at a time, to be inexact.”

Both Spudian eyebrows went up.

“The transport was quick, just like our
voyage into Benedict’s universe.” John didn’t add ‘and mine’. “But
when you get there, you have to wait for the merry-go-round to
cycle back to the time you want to leap to. That takes about a
month.”

I whistled.

“So, Aliyah and I had some time to
explore—uh, our environment.”

I forced a smile, hoping he wasn’t going to
get personal.

“Actually,” John said, “it was amazing.”

Dang. Personal.

“We M-fanned into a modern Middle East—like
the 1950s, but in their 1700s.”

“Really?” I didn’t expect that twist. “Like
Alsharif?”

“No, like a modern Constantinople,” John
continued. “Apparently their Byzantine Empire wasn’t swallowed up
by the Ottomans. Greater Byzantium stretched from France down to
Northern Africa and over to Pakistan. Luckily, Aliyah is fluent in
Ancient Greek and Ecclesiastical Greek, so we were able to
communicate without our Ergals.”

I bestowed my forced smile on the Professor.
“Lucky.”

“Unlike our relatively secular society,
Byzantium had maintained its religious core,” Aliyah reported.
“However, their Hellenic roots had instilled a love of philosophy
and science that allowed their society to advance technologically
as well as intellectually.”

“Each member country of Greater Byzantium was
called a Diocese, and was led by an enlightened Archbishop under
the guidance of the Patriarch in Constantinople,” added John.

“
Ο Θεός μας παραχωρεί τη σοφία

α μάθημ

α της

ς.
Yahweh grants us wisdom to learn life’s lessons,” Aliyah
translated.

“Resonates of the teachings of the Gautama
Buddha,” said Spud.

“There were many such writings in the
libraries we visited. We spent almost two weeks in the Alexandria
library alone.”

“It was still there,” John interjected. “I
wish we’d had more time to study the works of Appolonius and
Hipparchus. But we had to catch a catapult back to Phoenecia so we
wouldn’t miss the window to cross back to this carousel.”

Spud’s excitement was palpable. “Were you
able to obtain duplicates of the documents you read in
Alexandria?”

“Unfortunately not. I’d made some notes on
our computer, but the technologies weren’t compatible for us to be
able to make direct copies. And, we, uh, lost the computer during
our leap back.”

“Here to the Crusades?” I asked.

“No. We leapt into the warehouse when they
were, uh, interrogating you. They weren’t expecting more
visitors.”

“Your brother is a very effective
safecracker,” Aliyah said, grinning. “We were in and out in
minutes, though I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if
we’d then gone and tried to rescue you—
before
we rescued
you.”

“Don’t ask.” Having lost my own future/past
self before my very eyes when I’d traveled to the RAM with
Agriarctos, I wasn’t eager to explain to Aliyah how disturbing
seeing a duplicate ‘you’ can be. Much less watching her die.

“And the computer?” Spud persisted.

“I wished to return to Byzantium,” Aliyah
admitted, “but John opted for a different carousel.”

John shrugged, palms up. “My safecracking
skills had gotten us enough currency to support us for the month,
but I hadn’t realized those lamps in the taverna were also security
cameras. My mug didn’t look so cool on those Phoenecian ‘Wanted’
posters.”

I allowed myself a giggle.

“We landed on yet another merry-go-round
universe, but in this one, humans were not the dominant
species.”

Full out laugh. “Planet of the Apes?”

“Not hardly, Sis.”

“Robots,” said Aliyah. “Wires and circuits
instead of flesh and blood.”

“Androids,” John added. “Motherboards,” he
paused, adding with disgust, “for brains. We kept a low profile as
we waited for the “carousels” to line up.”

“As servants, tending to the robots’ needs,”
Aliyah explained. “Like the other humans who had survived. Until
this morning, when they arrived at our door.”

Spud frowned. “The androids?”

“Human military police—they enforce the
‘Three Laws of Humanoids’. They had identified an undocumented
silicon-based entity within the slave quarters.”

“His computer,” Aliyah said.

John shook his head. “I’d turned it on to
calculate our path back to you two. Didn’t take the cops long to
find it and appropriate it—for an android to adopt, of course.

“Thank the Omega Archon, we still had our
Ergals and the Somalderis. I’d already put in the settings to leap
back to the Crusades—and we made it in the nick of time. For both
carousels.”

“You don’t think leaving your computer there
will affect that universe’s timelines, do you?” I asked,
worried.

John stood up and shrugged. “Speaking as a
human, I think they could use a little timeline change—and an
Emancipation Proclamation.”

A loud sigh from Spud. “Well, I shall have to
take a page from Shiloh’s playbook one day and make an unauthorized
trip to pre-conflagration Alexandria. ‘Tis the only way I believe I
shall ever espy the wisdom of the ancients.”

Grumbling, Spud settled in a far corner of
the cave and continued to study the archived historical records on
his Zygan Ergal as I stoked the fire and waited for John and the
Professor to return from their reconnaissance. Unfortunately, they
came back later than we expected, and without good news—no passages
that could provide cover en route to Yeshua. Could’ve been the
flickering lighting from the torches, but both looked a bit
flushed. I didn’t want to hear their excuses, so I didn’t ask
why.

John gave our companion an Ergaled blanket,
and she lay down a few feet from the fire, welcoming the chance to
rest. Good. I wouldn’t mind a few seconds alone with my brother,
you know.

John must’ve read my mind. He sat down next
to me and gave me a quick hug.

“When we figure out a way to solve this
mess,” I began, “I can’t wait to walk in the door of our farmhouse
with you. You won’t believe how much the little ones have
grown.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
asked Dr. Malamud from her blanket bed.

“There are nine of us all together,” John
said.

She whistled. “Always wanted a brother or
sister, but ‘wow’.”

“You’re an only child?”

“Yes. Our culture doesn’t regulate
reproduction, but it also doesn’t encourage people to have more
children than they want.” She smiled at John, “My parents were very
happy with just me.”

“You used the past tense again.”

The Professor looked away for a few moments.
“Losing those you love, even as an adult…”

“I’m sorry,” John said, lying back and taking
her hands in his.

I had a devilish urge to break the mood.
“Your parents couldn’t have been that old.”

She seemed anything but offended. “No. You’re
right. They had become eonauts, engaging in medical research in low
earth orbit. Their experiments will help our space program to
return to the moon someday.” Her eyes glistened, but the pride in
her voice was clear, as she added. “Their craft exploded in reentry
three years ago.”

Snap. “I’m sorry, too,” I said, meaning
it.

“I am so glad they had a chance to live their
dream to touch the edge of space. Perhaps someday I will do the
same.”

“Perhaps someday,” John said with tenderness,
“I could join you on that voyage.”

Biting my lip, I went over to sit next to
Spud.

John and the Professor continued to murmur
between themselves, but I no longer had the urge to eavesdrop. Spud
continued to focus on documents in his Ergal, ignoring me as well.
We’d been up for many, many hours. Let the men in my life continue
their respective research. I closed my eyes, and let sleep soothe
my loneliness.

* * *

When I woke up, the fire had died to embers.
Spud was still at his post scanning his Ergal files, and mumbled
that John and Aliyah had gone off together to search down along
more tunnels and passages a while ago and should be back soon.

I sat up, watching the embers cast flickering
shadows on the walls of the cave. Half asleep, I started to imagine
each shadow was a ghost, the tall one my brother George, the little
one, my brother Billy. Soon I had named all the shadows as my
siblings and confessed to them
sotto voce
that I had meant
well. Fortunately, Spud chose not to comment if he heard.

A musical giggle floated from a passageway
behind us. Dr. Malamud ambled in, leaning against John, who held
her tightly around the waist. Once again, I didn’t bother to
explore what they’d been exploring. I laid back down on my blanket,
and pretended to sleep.

John left Aliyah’s side and scooted over to
stoke the flames. After a few minutes, hearing her rhythmic
breathing, I crawled over and sat up next to my brother. We didn’t
talk until the fire had regained its strength.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” John
finally said.

I pulled my knees up to my chin. “No. You
don’t.”

He waited.

“You gave up your scholarship at MIT to come
back when Grandpa Alexander died.” John had begun his college work
in Boston at the age of 15.

John nodded. “It’s okay. In the end, I
learned much more at Mingferplatoi.”

Understandable. The Zygan Intelligence
Academy provided uploads with Zygfed’s bi-galactic wealth of
information, most of it unknown to Earth. I only wished that that
had been enough for John. “Well, thank you. George and Connie were
able to finish their studies thanks to you.”

“I didn’t leave until they could steer the
family ship without me.”

“I know. But I still missed you. We all
did.”

We sat quietly for a few minutes watching the
shadows beyond the fire. Two nameless shadows hovered among the
ones I had baptized with my family members’ monikers. The question
that burned my lips surprised even me.

“Bro. Why don’t I remember my parents?”

John started. “Well, uh, you were very
young,” he stumbled.

“I was five. I have other memories that age.
But not of
them
. And Grandpa Alexander’s albums never had
any pictures of my—our—mother and father.” How pale John looked as
I turned to face him.

John kept avoiding my direct gaze, digging at
the ashes with an intensity that caused sparks to fly from the pit.
“They never told you,” was the whispered response.

I felt a gnawing in my stomach, a sharp pain
that warned me to turn back from painful truths ahead. Yet the
aching to
know
, superseded any growing dread. “No.
Please.”

John rested his head in his hands for a few
eternal minutes. When he looked up, his eyes were wet with tears.
“Nor me. It was Theodore Benedict who enlightened me. And it was
then that I resolved never to be a pawn of the Omega Archon
again.”

“As a Zygint agent?”

“As a replicant.” He took a deep breath. “A
clone.”

The volcano in my abdomen exploded, and for a
few seconds, I couldn’t breathe. When I found the air to speak, my
voice was trembling. “You’re saying I have no parents.”

John shook his head. “None of us do.”

Chapter 24

Tears Of A Clone

Neither of us spoke for a long time. I
blinked, hard, but the tears wouldn’t come. Was it the fire’s heat
or my anger that had dried my eyes.

Finally, I began. “Tell me what you
know.”

“Not as much as I’d like,” John admitted.
“You asked why I’ve been so driven to go to Level 3. That’s one
reason. To get those answers.” He rubbed his temples with both
hands. “Where did we come from? Who created us? Why are we here?”
He snorted. “I thought I was the only one asking these
questions—and then I met Theodore Benedict.”

“And he had the answers?”

“No. I wish, but, no. But he had the same
questions.” A sigh. “I don’t know if I can explain it, but for the
last several years, I’ve felt as if my life has just been a
rehearsal for something else, something truly real. Til then, I
feel like I’m just an experimental animal for unknown observers who
keep building complex figurative dragons for me to slay.”

“Sounds like the definition of Purgatory,” I
observed, flashing an image of Marlin the Magician in his cave.

John nodded. “In the end, Shiloh, I am not a
patient man. I refuse to spend the rest of my life playing
Sisyphus, pushing a boulder up a hill just to watch it roll down
day after day. I must, somehow, someway, get to Level 3, and ‘put
away childish things’.

I shook my head. “Haven’t you kind of been
pushing that boulder up over and over yourself for the last three
years?” I snorted, “Besides, after all the stuff you’ve just told
me, how can you be sure that Level 3 even exists?”

John looked into my eyes. “I have faith that
it does.” A pause. “The alternative would be too hard to bear.” His
focus seemed to drift for a moment—perhaps to the memories of his
recent imprisonment and rescue. After a few seconds, he cleared his
throat and continued, “I’d always believed that Level 3 is where I
would find the truth and my life would finally begin.” I almost
missed his momentary glance at the sleeping Aliyah.

“Then you think we might not even be alive at
all?” I instinctively rubbed my skin and felt for my pulse.

“We’re not robots or androids if that’s what
you mean.” He nodded at Spud, “As your buddy Shakespeare over there
would quote, ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed?’” He shrugged. “We
bleed.”