Canvas Skies (Reliance on Citizens Makes Us Great!) (2 page)

“And that would be?”

“Noah.”

Scott and Danielle had taken the task of
naming Noah to heart. He couldn't remain Clone #24 forever. They
had decided on Noah because of its meaning, peaceful and
long-lived, traits they hoped for in the boy. He was the first of
his kind to survive past the age of four, so there was no way to
know for sure whether or not he would make it to adulthood. Would
his other organs fail as his kidneys had? Thanks to Scott, his body
had accepted the transplant, so there was a chance.

“I thought you said talking about them would
help,” I said, referring to Scott's nightmares, “so why have you
stopped talking to Danielle?”

His eyes clouded over. “Talking about them
was helping, but it was hurting Dani. She won't admit it, but I
noticed an increase in her nightmares when I began telling her
about mine.”

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “You
can talk to me then. Anytime.”

“Alright, but you need to return the
favor.”

I nodded and began to describe my most
recent nightmare just as Danielle returned to the kitchen. They
both listened intently as I related Lance Beckett's most recent
attack on me while I slept.

Toward the end of the telling, I'd closed my
eyes. When I was done, the room was eerily silent. I opened my eyes
and looked at Scott. He looked really mad, just as a brother
should. I believed what he'd said after my rescue, if Keira hadn't
killed Mr. Beckett, he would have.

Danielle spoke first. “I don't think talking
about it will be enough for you, April. Have you made a decision
yet?”

I hung my head and avoided her eyes. It was
the obvious next question. And she had used my real name. Danielle
hardly ever did that. She knew how important it was for me to get
used to my new name. After weeks of feeling trapped, I finally wept
for myself. And I wept even more for the baby.

“I don't know what to do.” I sobbed. “Every
night I relive what he did to me in one way or another or what we
did to him. Sometimes both. I just don't think that's going to stop
once the baby is born. Seeing him or her every day. What if it
looks like him? This child deserves a clean start and lots of love,
but what if I just can't provide that?” I finally raised my eyes to
meet theirs.

“You could leave the child in Mediterra when
you return home,” Scott suggested. “Do you think the distance might
help you move on?”

“Maybe. But I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what they did to me! Dr. Ross
gave me the injection too. This baby will be able to heal and
regenerate, just like you...just like me.”

“April.”

“Aimee,” I insisted.

He nodded and then continued, “Aimee, you
don't know that for sure.”

“Yes, I do.” I watched as realization of
what I'd done spread across his face.

“You didn't. Not to the baby!”

Okay, maybe he hadn't understood exactly. I
shook my head. “No, not that. But I have checked. I can regenerate
the same as you, and this baby is sharing my blood right now.
Chances are good that he or she is like me, aren't they? I can't
just give the baby up for adoption to some unsuspecting couple.
What will happen to their child when they realize? The tests, the
studies. I can't let that happen.”

“There is another option.”

I looked at Danielle. There it was. It hung
in the air between us. My hand went to my belly. “No, I could
never.”

“Not that,” Scott interrupted.

I shook my head. What were they talking
about?

Scott reached for Danielle's hand. “We've
already discussed it. We'd be happy to welcome your baby into our
strange little family.”

“Really?”

They both nodded. Tears streamed down my
face, only this time they weren't tears of fear or sadness. I
reached across the table. They each took one of my hands in theirs,
and we formed a circle: a circle of protection, a circle of love.
It was exactly what I wanted for my baby and what I feared I
couldn't provide.

“When would you need to know?”

Danielle responded first. “Whenever. You can
even wait until after the birth if you'd prefer.”

I nodded. She was absolutely right. There
was no reason to rush.

The Dry Martini was the place to be. A
lively melody emanated from the grand piano in the middle of the
room, encouraging dancers to mingle on the polished parquet dance
floor.

I leaned back against the smooth ebony bar
and reached into my inner suit pocket to remove the gold pendant. I
rubbed it thoughtfully between my thumb and index finger and then
held it up, letting it dangle on its chain. Around and around it
spun, a serpent in the shape of an S striking at a coin with a G
imprinted on it. I'd given this very necklace to Keira over a year
ago when I'd finally shared our secret. Even now, I questioned
Scott's reluctance to tell her earlier.

The metaphor was fitting. The serpent
represented the Working Class. It struck at a coin that represented
the Elite. Disliked and mistrusted by many, serpents will strike
back with full force when cornered. So why hadn't they? I pocketed
the pendant. What would it take for the general populace to strike
back? My thoughts drifted to last year's Palamara report. Surely
that had been the time. Cloning had been outlawed ages ago
throughout the world, and Ramsey Corps's transgressions had
certainly caused an uproar for a short time. Then it seemed as if
everyone just forgot about it and moved on. What was wrong with
people? If that wasn't enough, then what would it take?

Keira's black dress kissed her ankles as
Brody Delaney, head of CalTech, spun her away and pulled her back
in time to the music. They made a handsome couple on the dance
floor. People watched them. Only I knew that she would look even
better at home. The short red-haired curly wig would come off.
She'd let down her wavy black hair. I'd run my fingers through it,
look into those amazing emerald green eyes and...the pianist ended
the song with a trill, breaking into my reverie.

Brody took Keira's hand and led her off the
dance floor toward a small empty round table. I picked up my glass
and shoved away from the bar, then chose a closer seat. The smooth
melody from the piano and the conversations around us made it
difficult to hear their discussion. I settled into my chair and
rolled my shoulders. Keira needed time to do her job.

I stirred my martini and took another sip.
Then I let my mind wander, using a technique I'd learned to help
relieve stress. It had been a very long day at the office, not to
mention my father. I breathed in deeply and let image after image
pass through my mind and drift away. The background music and
lively atmosphere at the Dry Martini helped. I'd begun to feel
almost perfectly relaxed when Keira brushed by me on her way out. I
waited and continued to enjoy my drink until Brody left too. Even
though they'd been having these “board meetings” every Tuesday for
the past year, they never arrived together or left together.

Outside, Keira leaned against a sleek silver
automobile, vintage, mid-21st century. The upkeep cost a small
fortune, but it was worth it. Image was everything to the Elite.
Plus, as a leader of the Resistance, it was imperative that I had a
reliable way to get around.

Expectations...I reminded myself that I
needed to talk with Keira about a few other expectations sometime
soon. That, and my father, but not right now.

“You following me?” The corners of her lips
teased upward. “If I didn't know any better, sir, I'd assume you
were interested in me.”

I reached over and wrapped my arm around her
waist, pulling her close. “You'd better assume that.”

Keira's brilliant green eyes sparkled as she
tilted her head back, flexed her fingers through my hair and gently
pulled me forward. Her full red lips parted ever so slightly and
deepened the kiss. It obliterated all remnants of my stress. After
a few moments, we parted.

“After you, m'lady.” I gestured to the
backseat.

“'My lady?' What's the occasion? An
anniversary of some kind?” Keira's eyebrows arched as I settled
onto the black leather seat beside her. Eberhardt started the
engine and pulled away from the curb.

“You could say that.” I pulled my hand out
of my pocket and dropped the pendant so it dangled on its chain
between us. “A year ago today I gave you this.”

On that same day I'd told her that her
brother, Scott, and I had founded the Resistance.

“I think that calls for dessert at the very
least, and I know of a place with the best tiramisu.”

Keira smiled and turned away from me. After
I fastened the clasp, she removed the wig. Her long wavy black hair
tumbled down and brushed against the back of my hand. It sent a
pleasant shiver down my spine.

Eberhardt slowed to a stop as we approached
The Coffee Shoppe. Despite the late hour, it looked like we may
have to wait for a table. One hand was already on the door latch
when I felt a slight pressure on my arm. I turned. Keira gripped my
forearm and looked past me, out the tinted window. I followed her
gaze. Dammit, there was another one.

After the Ramsey Corps incident last year,
large bounties had been placed on all three Maddock siblings. We
weren't seeing them as often anymore. Whoever had set the bounties
seemed to be giving up. Still it was best to take precautions. The
contact number couldn't be traced, not even by Raquelle, so we
really had no idea who wanted them. It could have been a renegade
group of doctors set on continuing genetic experimentation or a
group of high ranking Gov officials determined not to lose valuable
assets. It was even possible that Elaine Ramsey had returned and
formed an alliance with Celia Beckett. Both had connections and
both had good reasons for revenge.

Whoever it was, they'd made a mistake. At
350,000 gats per head, they'd set the bounty too high. Keira
assured me that no professional Freelancer would touch it for fear
of losing their own head after the job was complete, and amateurs
were of little concern.

We'd done what we could. Raquelle, a genius
at all things techno, had scoured the System and located and
destroyed all of the digital images she could find of Keira, Scott
and April. The image on this poster looked like it been sketched
first and then run through a data processor program. The bright
green eyes were really the only similarity, but their shape was
wrong.

Keira opened her purse and removed a silver
clip with an intricately woven design. By simply pinning up her
naturally black hair, she looked absolutely nothing like that of
the young woman with wavy blond hair in the full color wanted
poster.

After a short wait, the hostess led us to a
small table near the front of the cafe. I ordered coffee and
tiramisu for two.

“Coffee? I'll be up all night!” Keira
said.

Coffee was yet another privilege reserved
for the Elite. As such, Keira had never developed a tolerance for
the bitter drink, and she was absolutely right. She would be up all
night.

I winked at her and ran my fingers gently
down her arm. “That won't be a problem, will it? I'm sure we can
find something to do.”

She grinned. “Are you off tomorrow?”

“I am, and I took the liberty of canceling
your training session with Eberhardt and the Raiders.”

“Shit! Wait here.” Keira suddenly pushed
back her chair and walked out the front door.

That certainly wasn't the reaction I
expected. I saw him then, just before he pulled away from the
window. What is he doing here? I pulled out my wallet. 40 gats
should more than cover it. I threw the bills onto the table and
hurried after Keira. She had disappeared, but I spotted my car
halfway down the block. Perhaps Eberhardt had seen where they'd
gone.

I grabbed Brody's coat sleeve and dragged
him into a dark alley next to the cafe.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I shoved
into his gut with my left shoulder, pressed him against the wall
and held a knife to his throat. Granted it was a butter knife from
the cafe, but I'd had to improvise.

His pale green eyes widened.

“Are you following me?”

“Yes...well...I just thought...” he mumbled
before he regained control. “What will it take for you to trust me?
I've put in enough time, haven't I? I've given you free rides out
of the realm whenever you've asked, not to mention whatever
fugitives and contraband you've been taking with you. I thought
maybe if I showed some initiative...” he faltered, but then spoke
up again. “I've seen that before.” He stared at my pendant.

Just then we heard a trill.

“Is that a duck?” he asked.

“No, that's not a duck!” I snapped. “It's a
grey treefrog.” I had to remind myself that I too had wondered
about that sound less than a year ago. It was, in fact, my
transceiver, and that would be Guy.

I sighed and pulled away. Brody dropped to
the ground. He wasn't going anywhere. I dug in my purse and lifted
the transceiver to my ear. Brody moved one hand to his throat as he
eyed the butter knife. Then he casually raked his fingers through
his dark brown hair.

Without a word, I closed the connection and
gestured toward the silver automobile that rolled into view at the
end of the alley. As we approached, the back door swung open.
Without hesitation, Brody climbed in next to Guy. I had to admit,
he'd come a long way from the man I'd targeted a year ago. I sat in
front, next to Eberhardt.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Um, I don't know.” I closed my eyes and
leaned my head back against the seat. “Do any of you know somewhere
we can talk in private?”