Emergent (A Beta Novel) (22 page)

Zhara and I have identical reactions: we both raise an eyebrow, and then nod. The Aquine chuckles.

Tahir arrives, and I immediately forget Zhara’s concerns. He stands at the sliding doors to the deck, sees us, and then approaches. He’s wearing a proper suit in a dark brown color
that melds beautifully with his mocha skin, hazel eyes, and black braids. His ivory shirt is partially unbuttoned, exposing some of the black hairs on his chest. This time I definitely hear a
swoon. Mine,
and
Zhara’s.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Tahir says to me, then looks at Zhara, “Hey, other gorgeous. Cool to finally meet you.” His eyes go wide and he pauses, taking stock of his Beta-mate and
her First. “You two. Blowing my mind.”

“So, you’re
the
Tahir,” Zhara says, appraising him. Then she looks to me and shoots me a sly smile. “Yeah, I get it.”

I nod back, a tiny reciprocal smile forming at the side of my mouth. Sometimes I almost like her.

Sometimes.

A WEEK AGO MY CLONE
brethren were called Emergents and we dined in a communal space, with chores distributed voluntarily. Now we are being served dinner
by my clone brethren who are still servants in paradise, but not voluntarily. There are four extremely fit and attractive servers who look like models standing discreetly, one in each corner of the
dining room, awaiting a nod or command from Bahiyya or Tariq. The servants left behind on Demesne never became Defects. Their brain synapses were reprogrammed after the ReplicaPharm takeover,
so even if they did take ’raxia, it would not “wake” them. Do these servers even want the freedom we hope to achieve for them?

“A toast,” says Bahiyya, raising her violet crystal goblet adorned with diamonds in the shape of a fleur-de-lis. She looks around the table, inviting Tariq, Tahir, Zhara, Xander, and
myself to follow her lead with our identical goblets. But first she turns to Tahir. “Button your shirt, darling. It looks preposterous like that.”

“It’s preposterous that I was even made to wear it, Maman,” Tahir says, and does not button his shirt. Bahiyya shares a look of frustration with Tariq.

This family is still playing that game? Treating Tahir like a child, and then him acting like one?

Bahiyya redirects her attention to her guests. “Elysia, Zhara, Alexander. I realize these were not ideal circumstances that brought you here. But we will cherish you as family. We will
make the most of our time together. Cheers.”

We all raise our glasses and clink. “Cheers.”

Cheers to what? That we’ll be a happy faux family until Tahir and I complete our Beta-determined Awfuls, and transition to death instead of adulthood? That the servants on this island will
continue to look on blankly while the surviving Emergents toil in a labor camp?

Okay, whatever, humans. Cheers.

Tahir downs his drink in one long gulp. While the humans have wine, he and I were both served nonalcoholic beverages. The better to not encourage Awful behavior, I suppose.

“What’s that you’re drinking?” asks Zhara, sitting next to Tahir, as she regards his glass.

“Green shake,” he tells her. “I don’t really care for the foods humans love. I never got the sense of taste that Elysia got. So cook prepares nutrient drinks for
me.”

“Then can I have your artichoke?” Zhara asks him, eyeing his full plate of untouched food.

“Sure?” Tahir says, and I can see he’s unsure whether Zhara was kidding or not.

She was not. She reaches her fork over, plucks the artichoke heart from Tahir’s plate, and places it on her own. “These forks are so lightweight, I can barely feel it in my
hand,” Zhara says.

“That’s because they’re made of platinum,” Bahiyya says.

Zhara gulps, and then she takes the bowl of melted parsley butter above her own plate, and instead of dipping a piece of the artichoke into the butter with her fork, she pours the entire bowl of
butter over her artichoke, then eagerly gobbles a large bite. Her mouth still full, she exclaims, “It’s a long time since I’ve had food this good. I promised myself I
wouldn’t enjoy it this much, but I can’t help myself. Thank you so much for this feast, Mr. and Mrs. Fortesquieu.”

Tariq smiles, and I realize I have never seen his elderly face express genuine amusement. He is a gaunt man with a thin frame, thinning salt-and-pepper hair, and a temperament that is kind but a
face that typically registers
sad
and
resigned
. “No need to deny yourself pleasure in eating. A hearty appetite is a sign of good health.” His face returns to the look I
remember more common from him—
disappointment
—as he gazes at Tahir’s untouched plate of food. “And please, Zhara. We prefer to be called by our first names.
We’re informal here.”

“Nice,” Zhara says. “So does that mean you’ll tell me where the Emergents are imprisoned and if they’re being treated humanely, and may I please visit
them?”

The room goes eerily silent. The servants in the corners have no visible reaction, but I see awkward discomfort registering on our hosts’ faces. Bahiyya and Tariq want to be gracious and
warm to us—but Zhara has clearly offended their hospitality, even if they’re too polite to say so.

Tahir grins appreciatively at Zhara and raises his goblet to salute her. “By the silence in the room, I think you can assume the answer is ‘no on all counts.’”

Alexander steps in. “Perhaps that’s not dinner conversation, Zhara, when our hosts have been so generous to us.” My chip tells me that the proper way to engage in a political
dialogue with benefactors is privately, and not spontaneously, and not during a celebration. His military training would make him fully aware of this. I’ve spent enough time with
Tahir’s parents to know Alexander’s strategy is correct. That’s not how to play them, by attacking them directly to their dignified faces. I shoot Zhara a look and silently beg
her,
Apologize!

Does telepathy actually work? “Sorry,” Zhara mumbles. I can’t believe it. There’s hope for us yet.

Tariq and Bahiyya offer slight nods of their heads, discreet acceptances of her apology. They’re used to insolent teenagers. They’ll let this one pass.

Xander extinguishes the tension by addressing Tariq and Bahiyya, offering them their favorite subject—a dark one, but he gives it a light touch. “I met First Tahir once,” he
intones in his gravel voice. “At a surf match on the West Mainland. He won the meet. He was an excellent surfer, incredible technique and focus. And I remember now—he loved french
fries.” His turquoise eyes twinkle, and Tariq and Bahiyya both smile with memory, their bodies relaxing. “Tahir had the chef who traveled with him create a fry bar with gourmet sauces
for the competitors to enjoy after the meet. It made for a welcome party atmosphere in what otherwise would have been a congregation of sore losers.”

“First Tahir was a suck-up for popularity,” says Beta Tahir. “I know. I’ve done the research.”

Bahiyya ignores Tahir. She closes her eyes briefly, sighs, and then puts on a smile and says, “This is easier now that it’s out in the open about Tahir. No more secrets. No more
hiding.”

“No more hiding? Don’t be such a hypocrite, Maman,” says Tahir. “What about the Terrible Ts?”

“The Terrible Ts?” Zhara and I both ask at the same time.

“Terrible name. Terrible children,” Bahiyya scoffs.

“Tarquin Thompson and Tamsin Tsaro. The original teen Betas. They’ve been kept hidden like caged animals in Dr. Lusardi’s compound for the last year; not just hidden from the
world, but hidden even on Demesne,” says Tahir.

“What?” I say, startled. “Which other teen Betas?”

Tahir says, “I think I told you about them before.”

I say, “I thought you said they escaped and no one knew if they’d lived or died.”

“They lived,” says Tahir. “Mother and Father recently sent me to meet them. So I would know how awful Awful could be.”

“Terrible? Awful? What’s the distinction?” asks Zhara.

“‘Terrible’ is just an unfortunate nickname the scientists gave to the Betas,” Tariq explains. He asks Zhara, “You’ve heard of the Five?”

Zhara nods. “Of course. Who hasn’t?”

Tariq turns to me. “And you?”

I access my chip. It offers no useful data. I shake my head, replaying Zhara’s assumption.
Of course. Who hasn’t?
Me, that’s who hasn’t.

Tariq says, “The Terrible Ts, as they were renamed in the lab, are members of the original Five.”

Zhara gasps and bangs her fist onto the table, not realizing there was a servant standing behind her about to give her an additional helping of veal. The sudden noise causes the servant to drop
the meat tray onto the floor, and as Zhara turns around hastily to see what happened, she inadvertently knocks her goblet onto the floor. It shatters. She stands up. “I’m so
sorry!” she exclaims. “Let me help you with that!” She leans down to try to help clean up the mess, but the server staff immediately surround the area behind Zhara’s chair,
and the mess is so swiftly removed, it’s as if it never occurred. A new violet goblet is placed at Zhara’s plate, which is also refilled with food, and then the servers stealthily
retreat to the four corners of the room. Zhara sits back down and looks at Bahiyya. “I’m so sorry about the goblet. It probably cost more than, like, my family’s house back in
Cerulea.”

“It’s nothing, my dear,” says Bahiyya, who I think is glad to be a benefactor again and not subtly be accused of violating clones’ nonexistent rights.

I feel impatient that everyone at the table knows something but me. “I have no idea who the Terrible Ts are,” I say. I hate that the humans have access to so much information that I
don’t. It makes me feel ignorant and second class. Which I am. At least I have better table manners than my First.

Xander seems to sense my frustration. He explains: “The Five were an infamous group of teenagers who plotted and then executed a school bombing. Unfortunately, they were too successful. It
was a horrific mass murder that killed over a hundred students and teachers. The Five were apprehended almost immediately, but the outrage against them was so dire that authorities feared for the
teens’ safety. So in the dead of night, the Uni-Mil illicitly removed the Five from prison and transported them to the Base. The plan was to sequester them there while they awaited
trial.”

“Science had other ideas,” Tahir says, with
disdain
.

“Science makes mistakes sometimes,” cautions Tariq. “Science has traditionally been for the greater good.”

“What happened?” asks Zhara. “I thought the Five died in prison, that they were murdered by other inmates. That’s what the news said. My dad would always remind me about
the Five, as a cautionary tale when he thought I was acting up too much.”

“Tell them what really happened,” Tahir dares his father. “Tell them about Dr. Lusardi’s failed experiment.”

“I’ll tell them,” Tariq says defensively. “There’s no need for secrecy about this anymore—not here, at least. The original Dr. Lusardi didn’t uphold
ethical standards with respect to her cloning methods. That’s fact. Everyone knows it.” He sounds like he’s trying to justify Dr. Lusardi’s achievements more than explain
them.

Zhara and I share a look, and I know we’re thinking the same thing.
This magnificent home was built by the labor force created by Dr. Lusardi’s scientific
“achievements.”

“We can’t complain,” says Bahiyya. She reaches over to rub Tahir’s hand. “Because of her, we had a second chance for Tahir.”

“But her methods were vile,” Xander offers.

“Sometimes the cost for scientific progress is great,” says Tariq.

“I don’t get it,” Zhara says. “What does Dr. Lusardi have to do with the Five?”

Tariq says, “At the time, Dr. Lusardi had contracted with the Uni-Mil to develop clones for military research. She leveraged that access to make a proposal to the Five. Because of the
severity of their crime, and the mass outrage against them, lawyers told them that not only would they certainly receive death sentences, but the odds were good they wouldn’t stay alive long
enough to be sentenced. There were too many people, inside and outside the judicial system, who sought their own vengeance against the Five. So Dr. Lusardi offered them an alternative.”

Tahir says, “The Five already had prices on their heads, just not monetary ones. The death row prison where they’d been assigned while awaiting trial was filled with criminals
who’d committed the most heinous acts. Killing a member of the Five would be like a trophy sport to those criminals.” His voice
angry
, Tahir adds, “Instead, Dr. Lusardi
gave them an alternative to returning to that prison. They could die in her lab at the Base, but re-emerge as clones.”

“The Five became clones?” says Zhara. “Holy crap!”

Tariq nods. “Correct. The Five were already as good as dead. All the abuse they’d experienced in their short lives to that point, the torture that had caused them to act out against
society so heinously, didn’t matter. Dr. Lusardi offered them the second chance that the judicial system never would, and probably saved them from certain death in prison too. She gave them
the chance to reset their whole lives.”