Sarah Zettel - Reclamation

“Good. Good.” Eric swiveled his chair around so he faced the drawer of ration squares. Hunger burned in him with nauseating intensity. Even the ration squares smelled wonderful. Eric forced himself to eat slowly. Exhaustion and trembling hands helped. He consumed three whole bricks before the edge of his hunger blunted and he felt some real measure of strength return to him, enough, at least, to muster some disgust at his filthy condition.

He got to the cleaner stall by leaning against walls and doorways. He sat on the tiles while the sonics shook the grime from his skin and clothes. His eyelids drooped. He wanted sleep, badly. Sleep would take care of the ache in his head and in his eyes. Sleep. Yes. That would do it.

Not yet. Eric jerked his sagging head back up. Need to make sure we’ve got what we came for, first. Nameless grant that we’ve got what we need. I couldn’t survive using the gift again anytime soon.

He stumbled back to his chair and fell into it. The message DATA WAITING glowed on the main screen. Eric hit the PLAY key and slumped back, forcing his eyelids to stay open until the screen cleared and the information Adu had retrieved began to unfold for him.

What appeared was a video recording of a gathering hall. Despite his fatigue, Eric sat up straighten The place was filled with people standing on broad, flat tiers that rose from a central platform. Here and there he saw the scarlet robes and bald scalps that were the defining traits of every Vitae he’d ever seen, but they were the minority. Over a hundred men and women, robed in every color he could have imagined, stood in that room. Their skin was tinted solid black or clear pink, and every shade in between. They were bald, or bearded, or carefully coiffured. Metal and jewels dangled from wrists and necks and pierced skin. Some were missing appendages, ears or fingers or…Eric winced as he saw one old man with a hollow eye socket. There was something else. Eric leaned closer to the screen and squinted. Around each human form hung a vague corona of ghost white light.

They’re holograms. I’m looking at an assembly of holograms.

A hole opened in the central stage. Five figures, the only real people in the room and all clothed in solid black robes, mounted a sunken staircase. Behind them walked five more people. These wore green and all had camera sets mounted over their right eyes. The procession ringed the stage, facing the assembled holograms with the people in green standing a little behind the ones in black.

“The Reclamation Assembly is called to order and sealed to its purpose,” said the black-robed man with his back toward Eric’s point of view. “Because of the critical nature of what we must discuss, I call for the assembly to agree to allowing a mechanical tally of attendance and transmission of the records of the previous meeting to personal data storage for review and confirmation at a later date. Do any here wish to register objections?” There was silence.

The square-jawed woman who stood facing Eric spoke next. “There are three items of business that must be approved immediately. First is the proposed method to counter the current activity of the Unifiers regarding the status of the Home Ground in the view of the client governments of the Quarter Galaxy.”

Home Ground? Eric frowned. I didn’t think the Vitae had a home.

“Second is the procedure for seizure and control of the artifacts on the Home Ground.”

The translation must be mucked up. That can’t be what she said.

“Third is the procedure for establishing habitable zones for the main body of Vitae emigration.”

The man standing to her immediate left spoke. “Historian Masselin of the Guardian Voice will present the first proposal.”

The crowd of holograms faded from view, leaving a single figure, a bald Vitae in an amethyst robe, standing on the third tier from the stage.

“We still do not have a reliable model of how the Aunorante Sangh accomplished the theft of the Home Ground…”

“Adu!” Eric started to his feet and slapped his hand down on the STOP key.

“What?” came back the android’s voice.

Eric backed away from the screen. “Where are you getting this translation from? It’s screwed up eight-eight ways.” He stabbed a finger toward the keyboard.

“The translation is accurate.”

“It can’t be!”

Adu stepped into the doorway. “Why not?”

Eric stared at the blank screen and realized he was still pointing. He lowered his hand slowly and swallowed. “Because,” he said as if he could force reason into his words, “ Aunorante Sangh is a term from the Realm, not from the Vitae. This translation is coming through in Standard, and it must have gotten cross-fed with the…”

He suddenly remembered Basq’s sharp response when he had used the term. A slow, sick sensation closed in on him. Fear, with unwanted comprehension following fast behind.

They thought they’d be able to talk to Aria without help. Why did they think that?

“Adu,” Eric croaked, “do a data sort for me. The cross-reference is Aunorante Sangh."

“Right.” He turned away, then turned halfway back. “Are you all right?”

Eric didn’t answer; he just sank back into his chair.

What’s the matter with me? I left that all behind. I left! I… Eric looked down at his hands and watched the smooth, blank, brown skin stretch and relax as his fists clenched and unclenched.

Right. I left. But I haven’t forgotten anything. And I still go back. First sign of trouble and I’m right back where I started.

Oh Nameless Powers and Metthew Garismit, let me be wrong. Let me be sick and tired and completely wrong. Eric pressed the heels of both hands against his eyes. Garismit’s Eyes! How could I have hoped to get away!

“…recording the statements of Bio-technician Uary of the Grand Errand. Proceed, Technician.”

Eric lifted his hands away from his eyes. On the screen, a pinched young man in a bright purple robe was unbending from a deep bow. At a table in front of him sat a man and a woman both robed in black. The man’s hand lay on the table and only had four fingers on it.

“Contractor Avir, Contractor Kelat, I have entered the data from the DNA analysis on Eric Born into data storage, but my findings are…”

Eric’s throat closed. He swallowed to clear it, but could do nothing to move his frozen gaze, or close his opened jaw.

The purple-robed man, Uary, leaned against the tabletop. Above the table appeared a holographic representation of two beaded, twisted strings.

“This is Born’s DNA construct. It is between one-half and one-third the length of the DNA sequence of any other race from the Evolution Point that our databases have on file. This brevity and lack of redundancy attests to his artificial genesis as much as his extramechanical ability. But within this short stretch, his Engineers"—Uary paused—"left no less than three hundred nucleotide sequences that can be identified as unique to the Rhudolant Vitae.”

Avir rose slowly. “Be very, very sure about what you are saying, Technician.” There was a tremor in her voice that sounded to Eric like eagerness.

“I am, Contractor,” said Uary with absolute finality. “Eric Born’s ancestors must have been engineered from Vitae DNA. If we know where his world is, it is likely we have found the Home Ground again. There is no question in my mind but that he is Aunorante Sangh.”

No.

“We will have to confirm…”

The Nameless sent their Servant, who saw a way to move the world…

“…will authorize a probe…”

Funny-looking place, isn’t it? Out there on its own.