Murder of Crows (Book One of The Icarus Trilogy) (5 page)

“Huh, that’s odd,” Hawkins said before initializing the revival procedure with added sedatives.  He was supposed to have started the process long before the man had woken up.

“Odd?!  That man is terrified.  We need to get those wires and machines off him!  Fix it!”  Dr. Kane stopped shrieking and tried to soothe the naked man reclined in his resurrection chamber.  Hawkins scowled at the doctor getting caught up in the moment.

“What do you think I’m doing?  It takes a bit for the process to start up,” Hawkins said as the syringes moved into place and the restraints holding the man in place unlocked.

“How was he even awake?  They’re not supposed to reach consciousness for an hour after leaving the vault,” Charlotte said accusingly, relying on what Hawkins could only assume were her emotions.

“Shush.  It happens sometimes.  The clone memory retrieval isn’t a perfect process yet.  Probably won’t ever be perfect.  Besides, you’ve seen this before.  There,” he said after hitting a button on the panel and watching the needles puncture Jenkins’ flesh.  “As soon as the drugs kick in I’ll take out the re-breather.  Then you can console him like the sick puppy you want him to be.”  He loved to act condescending towards her; he liked reminding her that she was
his
assistant.  Hawkins could feel her fuming from a meter away; he loved having that kind of power.

“You bastard.  It’s not the same.  We could have another head case on our hands because of this.  Do you understand that?” 

Hawkins walked over to Jenkins, who was now fully under the effect of the tranquilizers.  He then proceeded to pull out the breathing tube from the newborn man’s mouth with an indelicate touch.

“Maybe you don’t understand…,” he said while turning to her with a smirk. 

“That’s
his
problem.”

-

Jenkins didn’t like being in restraints while the two doctors were fighting.  He felt a degree of claustrophobia and it was doing wonders to his nerves.  That Hawkins doctor was clearly an ass and Jenkins didn’t really want him to be in charge of anything, much less his recovery.  The young soldier certainly felt on edge when the automated needles lanced into his skin and filled him with drugs.  Jenkins felt out of control; he felt powerless.  He was afraid.

When Hawkins pulled out the breathing tube Jenkins choked and coughed.  A good amount of synthetic amniotic fluid came with it and his throat hurt like hell.  It was the first time he was really breathing and he didn’t like the feeling.  He felt blessed that he didn’t remember the first time he was born.  He felt cursed when he realized that this was just the first of many more experiences just like it.

He breathed in sharply and hyperventilated.  Jenkins didn’t want to know what came next.  He could move his neck, though, and he was thankful for it.  It almost looked like he was in a regular clinic.  The only special pieces of equipment were the machines responsible for his resurrection.  Otherwise it felt like it was a good room to come to if he had a bad cough.

He noticed the raven-haired woman walk up to him with compassion in her eyes.  He was still nervous and scared, but her soft gaze seemed to help.  She seemed to care.

“Ryan, I am so sorry about this.  Normally this is supposed to be a better experience.  Unfortunately you suffered a premature Consciousness Retrieval.  My name is Dr. Kane.  Do you know where you are?”  Jenkins coughed again and tried to breathe normally, which was much more difficult than it should have been.  He looked at the doctor and tried to speak.  A weak rasp is all that came out.  She nodded.

“Hmm, sometimes that happens.  But if you keep trying it will work.  Your vocal chords aren’t used to moving yet.  Do you know where you are?”  Jenkins looked at her again and decided that he was
going
to speak.  He steeled himself and tried to force his throat to cooperate.

“Clin...ic.  I…died.  I’m….ba….ck,” he said with great effort.  He felt tired, but he was proud that something came out, at the very least.

“Good.  That’s right.  You should count yourself lucky.  Something went wrong with the personality transfer and your brain was primed before it was ready.  I’m sorry about that, but if it makes you feel any better many patients in similar situations encounter incomplete transfers or mental dissolution.  That you retained some small measure of yourself is a kind of miracle.”  The doctor smiled at Jenkins.  He didn’t quite understand his predicament but he certainly didn’t feel lucky.

“Thought…pur…gatory.  I….lucky?”  Jenkins tried to laugh, but it hurt too much to consider it.  He didn’t want to talk anymore.  Charlotte heard the man and tried to suppress her criticism for his ideas of antiquity.

“Well, it shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry.  If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t purgatory,” she said, laughing weakly towards the end.  She felt silly for saying it, even if she was trying to lighten the mood.  “We’re going to move you into the training room.  Are you ready?”  Jenkins looked at her like she was an idiot.

“Want…sleep.  I want… to sleep.  The last hour…or so…. was pretty rough,” he said, determined to speak fluidly.  Dr. Kane looked at her patient and sighed.  Her conscience was heavy, but she was on a timeline.  She had to get him back to the Crow’s lodgings within the day. 

“I know, Ryan, but we have to get that body moving.  It’s been sleeping too long already.”  Charlotte handed the young soldier a pair of briefs but quickly realized he was still suffering from his disorientation.  She helped him place his legs in each hole and brought up the garment to his waist.  The good doctor felt slightly more comfortable now that the soldier wasn’t naked.  She helped the soldier up to his legs and they started walking to the training room.

It was a slow process.  Jenkins’ steps were labored and he wasn’t used to his new legs.  Charlotte kept out her hand for whenever he lost his balance, but as they made their way to the training room his steps became more sure and his stride more confident.  Soon enough the young doctor didn’t even have to keep out her hand for support.  Charlotte looked ahead and dreaded what was to come.  She was still so new to this place and the terrible acts that she had to perform for the job.

Jenkins looked at the young doctor lost in her thoughts but then became distracted by his own.  As he regained his ability to walk Jenkins examined the room to his right.  He could tell from personal experience that the machines humming on the other side of the doorway were massive computers.  He had stolen ones just like them and made quite the profit.  The new soldier wondered what kind of data they held.  He assumed that along with maintaining the clinic and the clones held in storage underneath the facility that the computers held something much more important.  Jenkins assumed that they held his life, his memory and personality in those lines of code.  He was right.

In order to maintain the soldiers’ memories and personalities after death each soldier was tagged with a sub-dermal microchip which constantly uploaded to satellites in orbit around Eris.  The machines would then transfer the data to the computers and upon death would immediately transfer the data to the new clones.  It was efficient but it relied on the satellites maintaining the constant connection.  A few years prior one of the satellites devoted to the Mastiffs was destroyed by space trash.  After half the team was killed in a battle they were unable to transfer their memories and the Commission had to rely on old data to revive them.  Half of the resurrected soldiers suffered mental dissolution and had to be retired.

It was a bad year for the Mastiffs.  Jenkins remembered it and hoped it would never happen to him.  His premature adoption worried him; he didn’t want to experience it again.  The newborn Crow looked ahead and realized that he was almost in the training room.  He wondered what he would have to do once inside.

-

Jenkins’ legs felt like they were on fire.  All he wanted to do was lay down but he kept being subjected to brutal calisthenics.  Dr. Kane was standing behind a one way mirror while he ran on the treadmill.  He felt as if he’d already run a marathon, but the display told him he’d only run a few kilometers.  His lungs disagreed.  It felt as if some witch doctor was squeezing his chest with the malice of an inexperienced child.

Charlotte Kane monitored the readings from the miscellaneous medical equipment.  Jenkins was effectively in a suit of machines promoting muscle growth and stamina while he ran on just one of the treadmills that filled the training room.  The room was equipped to deal with at least three quarters of the team at any time, which was more than enough; it was only on very rare occasions that the team would be butchered like that.  Charlotte watched as Jenkins continued to run on the machine.  The running was more to provide blood flow to all the affected areas rather than for any actual exercise and within a couple of hours Jenkins would be sent back to the Crows in an acceptable condition for battle.  Dr. Kane did not envy the man.  The next few days would be filled with almost intolerable pain from the conditioning and he would still be expected to play in the next game, where there was every chance in the world that the process would begin all over again.

It was no wonder there was a steady flow of black market painkillers to some of the players.

Charlotte hated the games; hated what they did to these men.  The aspiration of making it big and walking away with a fortune was a cruel joke; a carrot hanging from an impossibly long stick.  Even the criminal offenders were undeserving of this constant cycle of death and painful rebirth.  She wished she could do something about it.

Unfortunately she was left to monitor readings and provide a friendly face to the newly-resurrected.  The games were the most popular form of entertainment in the entire system.  Besides the games themselves there were movies, shows and video games based on the whole ordeal.  Why stop a good thing at the expense of a few souls?

People had tried, of course, and Charlotte had thought about joining them.  Luckily she hadn’t.  Most protests like the riots in St. Louis only a decade before had ended in bloody massacres by the Earth Orbit Security Forces.  The defenders of the populace, they were called.  In reality they just defended the corporations’ interests.

And they were all interested in the games.

Charlotte sighed at the thought.  The worst part was seeing all of the soldiers’ faces.  After the second or third death they all wore the same expression.  She could feel their despair.  They couldn’t do anything to change their lives; even suicide was out of the question.  If they tried and they weren’t forcibly retired they just woke up enraged the next day.  It was even worse for them.

Jenkins had stopped running.  He was bent over, holding his legs above the knees and panting.  He was shaking from his efforts and looked quite a mess.  The good doctor checked the display and saw he’d only run 8.3 kilometers.  He had to run twelve before he could move onto the rowing machine.  She flicked on the intercom and hated herself all the more.

“Ryan, you need to keep running.  It’s almost over,” she lied.  She lied often in her line of work, but it was never enjoyable.  She wasn’t Hawkins, after all.

“I can’t,” Jenkins said in between pants.  He’d tried, certainly, but he was sure he was past his limit.  Dr. Kane seemed like a nice woman, so he didn’t want to mess up her job or anything, but he felt like he was about to pass out.  The urge to throw up was unbearable but he’d literally never had anything in his stomach.  The most he could do was dry heave.

Charlotte didn’t have a choice.  She flicked the intercom again.

“I know, Ryan, but we have to keep going.  The longer you stay still, the more it will hurt.  And I don’t want to,” she said before taking a deep breath,” but I’ll be required to shock you if you don’t continue.”  She flicked it off and sank back into her chair.  Charlotte could see his opinion of her change through the one-way glass.  The good doctor wasn’t having a good day.

Jenkins felt betrayed, but he understood.  He should have guessed that this would happen.  He shouldn’t have expected kindness.  He waited for an eternity of a minute.  He needed to catch his breath, and some curious part of him almost wanted to get shocked just to force the point home.  Nothing happened to him; he didn’t get shocked.  He felt that maybe the two-faced doctor was giving him mercy.  Or maybe she couldn’t pull the trigger; maybe this was just something she was forced to do.  He wanted to believe that.  Jenkins stood up and forced himself to run.  His world was pain, but it seemed easier when he tried to think better of her.

Dr. Kane took her finger off the button.  She breathed a sigh of relief and she leaned back in the chair. 
This
, she thought,
has to be the worst part.

-

Jenkins took a deep breath as he exited the clinic.  In the small medical complex the air was heated to perfect conditions for newly-resurrected soldiers but there was no mercy as the soldiers walked to their home in the barracks.  The crisp air was almost painful for the newborn soldier, but what he saw was enough to shake Jenkins from his thoughts. 

As he walked the short distance to the barracks he could see the Earth in all its faded glory.  It was a few hours past Earth Rise, what counted for night on Eris, but everything was still clearly visible.  There was never any true absence of light.  Even when the sun was eclipsed by the planet or any of the other orbiting asteroids the reflected light would always end up illuminating Jenkins’ new home.  It was a beautiful effect when paired with the lack of light pollution.  Jenkins almost felt like he could reach out and touch the stars.

The young Crow could see the shattered moon off to the left.  It was mostly intact, really, but huge swaths of the rock had been blown off and still hung about.  The moon was the first attempt at colonization but the intellectual elite hadn’t perfected the process yet.  Instead of making the rock habitable those scientists ended up causing the Moonfall, the catastrophic explosion which caused thousands of high speed projectiles to fall down to Earth’s surface.  That’s what happened to Old Chicago; that’s what happened to a lot of places.