Onekka - The Tragedy of Jaqui Fennet (12 page)

She let him take her arm and lead her towards the residential zones, and a
single thought dominated her mind.
It's not me I'm worried about.

"Before
I say anything, you need to understand the impossible position I've been in
recently, the corners I've been backed into. It's not fair to judge me without
understanding the factors that drove me here." They were perched on the
edge of Derek's bed, each turned slightly to face the other. Jaq felt vulnerable,
but the words were aching to come pouring out, and Derek happened to be the
only likely recipient. "Onekka isn't the magical place it once was. She
has dark corners and darker secrets - I know that now."
He shifted uncomfortably. "I understand, Babes. I know you've been accused
of lots recently."
"I'm not accused of anything I didn't do."
His baffled smile seemed to fill the air. "How do you mean?"
"I'm a killer, Derek. That's what I mean."
"No, you mustn't let them get to you like that. You haven't done anything
wrong. Is this DePennier again, making you feel like shit?"
She slumped in frustration. "How about I start at the beginning? There's a
door in the Administration offices that's got more locks on it than you need on
a whole house. It's labelled 'Sector 5'."
"Yeah," said Derek, nodding, "I heard of that. Some of the guys
reckon there's some secret lab on board somewhere, and they do all the creepy
research there. You know, the human augmentation and biotech stuff."
Jaq nodded. "I still don't know exactly what they do up there, but we're
talking about the same place. Well, I figure whatever happened to the Armcorp
delegation has something to do with what's in there. I was trying to find a way
in there when Dane Garret caught me in his office, rummaging through his
stuff."
"Er..." Derek's face was turning a lighter shade of pale as he began
to connect the implications. Jaq continued before he had time to stop her.
"He came at me, Derek! Said I was stupid, that he'd been trying to keep me
out of it, but now I had to die! He tried to kill me with a stun baton, and
almost succeeded, too. We struggled on the floor and I tried to get away, but
he wouldn't give up. He was like a man possessed, so I..."
"So you what?" The bunk was quiet enough that she could hear the
fabric of his clothes rustling as his chest rose and fell.
"So I bashed in his skull with my portable, 3-mode lamp module."
Derek was so pale, he looked like a display dummy in a clothes shop window.
"Fuck a duck," he whispered. "You're a murderer."
His words inspired nothing moreover a smile from Jaq, and she realised that
title no longer had power over her. After waking up with Helen's body, being
called a murderer just seemed like stating the blindingly obvious.
"I thought that would be it," she continued. "I had Garret's
access pass and his codes, so I'd be able to sneak into Sector 5 and find out
what was going on."
"But, wouldn't you need more than a pass card?"
She smiled, but resisted the urge to giggle. "Yes, I needed his hand and
eyes, too." Derek looked ready to be sick, but she was started now, and
needed to finish. "When I finally got my chance, I went through that door.
I didn't get far before DePennier caught me. It turns out, Helen betrayed me.
She helped me get in there, but then let him find out. He backed me into a
corner, Derek; I swear. I didn't set out to kill him."
"Did you bash in his skull, too? I can't imagine that was easy."
Derek seemed to be in shock, his voice a monotone.
"No. I shot him with an air cannon - the same type of weapon that killed
the Armcorp guys. It took him in the mouth and burst his head like a dropped
melon. Then, last night, I strangled Helen." Jaq wondered if she could
possibly explain the extenuating circumstances surrounding Helen's death, but
decided it would do her no good at this point. "She betrayed me, Derek.
She was a liability - I had to take care of her."
After a few moments, he responded, still talking in that flat, dull voice.
"So why did you kill the Armcorp delegation? Was that just so you could
justify the rest?"
"What?" Genuine confusion sparked in Jaq's mind. Had she killed them?
Was it possible? Her mind had certainly been playing tricks on her of late.
"Why would you think that?"
It was Derek's turn to laugh, but it was no more than a single bark of
disbelief. "Why not? Jaq, what prompted all this? I mean, something must
have happened to set you on this course, or have you been killing people for
years now?"
She scowled at him when he spoke the last question. "Of course not! The
only person I ever killed until recently was my Father." She saw the look
sweeping across his face. "No, it's not like that. I-"
"You had your reasons, right? Seems to me you can always come up with a
reason, Jaq. That doesn't make it justified."
"It's not my fault. It's the dream companions, Derek. They made me see
things."
His mouth dropped open in shock. "Seriously - you heard voices. Is that
what you're telling me? You're not even an original nutcase!"
"I... I speak with entities, in my dreams. There are three of them, with
individual personalities. They highlight things to me, show me the
inconsistencies in the everyday world, force me to wonder at the why and how of
things. Sometimes they disagree, but they are always essentially right about
what's happening and what needs to be. It's thanks to them I know Henrickson is
a threat to me. They said no living being could harm me, and also that I should
watch for the voice that speaks without breath's benefit. Henrickson's an
android, Derek! It's him I need to worry about."
Derek was slumped, staring at her with eyes almost glazed. Jaq reached over and
took the test pulsar from his limp fingers, feeling the comforting weight of
its power in her palm. Strange, she thought, that invisible waves could affect
so many things so fundamentally. Like anger, love, hate and gentleness. They
brought all things to bear, in the end.
"I think you've lost track of reality," whispered Derek, and the
meaning of the dream companions' second warning suddenly clicked into place
when she wondered how things might be different if she'd taken up his offer of
running away together.
Trust not the thought that comes unbidden and dreams
of gallant knights.
She looked at him with genuine affection, feeling a sense of utter calmness and
an abiding clarity. In understanding and accepting what she was, a hitherto
locked insight burgeoned in her mind. "Reality doesn't exist, my wannabe
gallant knight. It's a word we use for the mean average of all those
conflicting perceptions that make up humanity. Our worlds are nothing more than
the spaces we sense around us, as fickle as newborn babies in our desire to
control. The dawn comes only because we know it does. No underlying force
pushes us to the right path, or guides our feet to altruism. There is only what
we do, and the results we inflict upon ourselves."
She shifted her thumb. "I'm sorry, Derek. You want to be a good man, but
you'll tell Henrickson everything. All he needs to do is convince you it's for
my benefit, and you'll go along willingly. It's as simple as that. You've been
a good ear for my confession. If you're a believer, I'm sure your god will
welcome you with open arms. But honey, lover, sweetie pie ...
"You're in my way."
She pressed the trigger on the test pulsar. There was no sound, but everything
electronic in the bunk popped into lifelessness, the lights went off, and Jaq
sat in the darkness, listening to the pitiful sounds of a man dying without the
pacemaker than kept his heartbeat true.
*
As she headed for Sector 5, Jaq felt ready to face whatever lay ahead. She
acknowledged that the feeling was born more of resignation than confidence -
after all, she actually had no clue what to expect, but it was so confusing
that there was no point in worrying over it. The handgun, along with two loaded
clips and all the spare rounds of ammunition, rode in a small bag attached to
her waist. It looked for all the world like a purse of some kind, and its
reassuring weight gave her the strength to stride forward with confidence.
She patted the bag, wanting to feel the hardness of the steel through the
fabric. There was a power to the gun which felt almost supernatural. It struck
Jaq that she'd never needed to fire it, but merely having it in her possession
was enough to turn the tide when she'd faced down DePennier. Who could doubt a
friend like that? Jaq had spent years looking for a man strong enough to rely
upon, never realising the answer to her vulnerability lay in something simpler,
more primal even than sex: The ability to take life, and by virtue of that,
preserve it.
It was more than a day since she'd killed Derek. That day had been spent
surveying plans and running like a demon round the arboretum. She drank coffee
until the taste made her gag. Now she'd moved on to energy drinks that came in
tiny shots and made her brain feel packed with pepper. Whatever else happened,
she was determined not to sleep.
I won't let you control me again, you
bastards!
She'd got together all the items she needed - clothes, weaponry, and Garret's
passcard. The hand and eyeballs were past their best, so she decided to leave
them behind. Garret's clearance, she suspected, did not extend past the initial
Sector 5 door anyway. The test pulsar had two uses left in it, if Derek had
been right. She had one of those very much in mind, and having another pulse
available couldn't do any harm.
Fatigue weighed on her like a heavy coat, invisible but palpable, and each step
was starting to feel like an effort. Bereft of further preparations to make,
Jaq had been wracking her brains, trying to conjure up a way into Sector 5.
Nothing was presenting itself. She'd been on the verge of simply marching up
there and shooting anybody who got in her way until she got where she needed to
be, but that was the wide-eyed, sleep deprived neurotic talking. She hoped.
Then out of the blue, Henrickson had provided a route for her. He wanted her to
meet him in the Administration building, to go over the details of the
DePennier crime scene. If she could persuade him to get her inside, she only
needed to worry about that light web guarding the stairs up.
Jaq mounted the glass elevator, wondering if this would be the last time she
got to ride up over Onekka's grand display. She watched the early evening
activities unfolding below as she rose. Couples relaxing on dates after a day's
work. Runners doing laps of the park. Diners eating and chatting, perched at
tables around the cafe. Dedicated workers, still beavering away in the labs and
offices on the many strata of the station. All this she watched, and felt
nothing. The everyday glaze was impervious to her actions, she realised. On
some level, this would go on regardless of what happened to her. Nothing upset
the balance of the standard working day.
Is routine the meaning of life?
When the elevator stopped, she had to wait for Henrickson to let her in. He was
apologetic about the delay, explaining that he'd been on a call. She followed
him into the familiar office that now felt like an alien planet.
"Do you, err, miss the old place, Ms Fennet?" he asked.
She smiled politely. "Not really. The people I knew here have moved on,
and without people you love, how can anywhere feel like home?"
He frowned. "Well, indeed. I've asked that we be left alone up here, just
for a short while, you understand." He chuckled. "You aren't any
threat to me, are you? Now... Ms Fennet, are you, erm, that is, do you have any
problem with, well, gory stuff, for want of a better word?"
"If you're an android, DI Henrickson, did you choose your current
personality?"
If the question shocked him, he didn't show it. "In a manner of speaking,
err, yes. I decided on a manner to live up to, and ... and I work to that,
every day. Am I, as it were, consistent?" They had ambled to the Sector 5
door, which was standing ajar, and they paused.
"Surely, personality is a trait, not something to be crafted."
He smiled. "Ah, but is that really true, Ms Fennet? Do not humans have a
strong idea about themselves, each believing they know their own personalities?
In my studies, I have come to see that humans are creatures of habit, and
personality - or their own individual perception of that - is one of those
habits. I do not think you have innate characters; I believe you develop an
idea of who you are, and mould your mannerisms to fit that image. So you see,
we are not so different in our approaches."
"You forgot your hesitations."
He laughed again. "Indeed, Ms Fennet. I am still a, you might say, work in
progress. When I get ... well, excited, I sometimes forget."
"To answer your question, I can handle the gory stuff. Why? What is it you
plan to expose me to?"
"Follow me." He led the way into the Sector 5 corridor and along to
the security room. Inside, the mess was mostly untouched. Bits and pieces had
dried on the walls and ceiling, and everything had turned a dull shade of
brown. DePennier's body had been taken away, leaving a person-shaped space on
the floor, and the air cannon had been taken too.
Did I really do this? It
seems like a long time ago.
Jaq gasped and placed a hand to her mouth, deciding to play along with the
charade, but examined the sight anyway.
To her right was another story altogether. The bank of monitors was still
present, although only a single security camera was now displayed, showing an
empty corridor. The others had been replaced by graphs and readouts. More
significantly, there was no sign of the surveillance mummy, or any apparent
detritus. To the casual eye, it would certainly look like only one body had
ever littered this room, and Jaq was willing to bet the mummy corpse had been
'disappeared' before Henrickson was called to the scene.
"DePennier's body is currently undergoing tests," said Henrickson.
"Well, most of it is. The rest is, well .. the rest is stuck to the walls,
ceiling and floor."
Jaq nodded, still distracted. "He did leave one hell of a mess, didn't
he?"
"So much of a mess," agreed Henrickson, "that it covered many,
err, interesting inconsistencies of evidence. Did you know, Ms Fennet, that
Mister DePennier had what one might call a dossier on you?" He was pacing,
as he did before, though the small, blood-spattered room availed him little
space to do it in.