REHO: A Science Fiction Thriller (The Hegemon Wars) (13 page)

The bed engulfed him, taking Reho away from the ocean, away from the sadness and exhaustion that filled every room on the
Kingdom Come
.

***

A tall lady wearing black leather and holding a lighted, neon umbrella shoved past him. A crowd zoomed about in every direction, shuffling him back and forth on the walkway. A cat raced between his feet, causing Reho to step into the street to avoid tripping over it. A vehicle swerved, silent and silver, its tires barely making a sound but missing him by a breath. Reho stepped back onto the bustling walkway and hurried along. He hadn’t been here before. It was the city of light, but the area was new.

A hand grabbed him, dragging him into a nearby store.

“You must remain off the street. Quick! Come below!” She was covered in tattoos, vivid dragons and symbols that Reho had seen in a book of Japanese art. Her body was like that of a young boy, her chest flat, her hair short with red highlights. Reho followed her.

They descended into a dark room. Reho could see a faint glow at the bottom, away from the stairs. A jumble of male voices filled the room. Their accents were strange, but they spoke in English.

“I found him,” she said, holding Reho by the arm. The men stopped their conversation and looked at him.

“And Jimmy?” one of them asked. He wore a goatee and a dragon’s tail wrapped his neck, its prehistoric head drawn across his left cheek.

“Jimmy won’t leave the Mainframe’s door, “ she replied. “Not now. Not with him here.”

A shrill cry cut through the room, something beastly and close. The door at the top of the stairs slammed shut, and the room went black. A hand clasped his shoulder, sending him to his knees.

***

Reho opened his eyes. His body was tense and covered in sweat. Thursday stood over him, his hand clamped onto Reho’s arm.

“Wake up!”

Reho heard a scream, followed by the slamming of doors.

The crew stood in the hall, minus Sola. Gibson stood naked, his hands covering his crotch. His eyes were wild, wakened out of a deep sleep.

“It’s Rainne,” Ends said.

“We tried knocking,” Thursday said, “but she won’t open.”

Reho knocked. Nothing. He knocked again.

“Can you open the door, Rainne?” Still nothing.

“We should kick it in,” Gibson said.

“And see your marbles swing across the hall?” Thursday replied. “No thanks. Reho can handle this.” Thursday and Gibson returned to their rooms.

A noise reverberated from inside Rainne’s room then the knob turned.

“What’s wrong?” Ends said.

She wouldn’t look at them. “It was just a nightmare. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake everyone.” Her words came out slow and slurred.

Ends looked at Reho, then returned to his room.

“Its embarrassing,” she said.

“We have been through a lot,” Reho replied.

“Yes, but it’s embarrassing. I have never been alone. My sister and I always shared a room. Ever since we were little.”

“I can sit with you while you sleep.” Reho was unsure of his response but didn’t know what else he could offer.

She went back in but left the door open. Reho shut the door behind him. Their rooms were identical. He sat on the chair next to the bed and positioned it so he could stretch his feet onto the nightstand. She sat on the bed, her head still lowered, shoulders slumped. She was exhausted. Reho wondered how much longer she could hold out until her body collapsed.

“Sleep,” he said.

“I screamed because I couldn’t find her. Then I remembered.” Her tears traced familiar trails down her face.

“Nothing can hurt you here. Mar made her decision, and you have to honor it.” Once again, his words surprised him. He thought back to Jena and what she had told him. How he could never provide what she need most: security. His racing and interaction with criminals had been the source of their undoing.

Rainne slipped under the covers and turned to face Reho.

“Tell me something.” Her words hung heavy in the air.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Where are you from? Anything until I fall asleep.”

Reho’s first thoughts were of the harbor in 4E. He described how the boats would come in from all over the Atlantic when he was a kid. He had even met a man once from New Afrika who had traded him a wood-carved gun for a spark plug. He remembered his skin—dark brown with white etchings along his arms and neck. He had asked the man what they meant. The man only said it was to ward off the Hegemon and that the aliens feared his people’s symbols.

The boat swayed, shifting everything in the room. Light flashed through the porthole. Reho jerked to his feet. A second later thunder cracked.

“There’s a storm,” Reho said. He thought of Sola. She and Ends had not been on good terms since the tunnels. The little he had seen of them told him that they were arguing and that something was wrong.

It rained. At first it was a light patter against the porthole, then its noise drowned his words as he continued describing Virginia Bloc and the Blastlands. The boat rolled and swayed as the storm intensified, and there was an icy chill in the air.

Reho heard Sola and Thursday in the hall, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He heard a door shut. Thursday was supposed to be on shift in the navigation room.
It practically navigates itself.

Her eyes were no longer open, watching him as he told her stories about his childhood. Her shoulders under the comforter gently rose and lowered.

Reho couldn’t keep his eyes open either. He found a blanket in the closet and did his best to get comfortable in the bedside chair. It wasn’t long before he was back in the city of light.

***

Rainne woke Reho, her hands warm against his cold shoulder. The room was freezing, his body covered in goose bumps. According to his AIM the air temperature was forty-degrees, well below the eighty-degree reading on the wall thermostat.

“It’s not working,” he said. “We’ll look at it tomorrow.” He wasn’t sure what time it was; his Casio was back in his room.

Reho sat on the corner of the bed next to Rainne who was cocooned and shivering in her blanket. He considered lying next to her, just for the warmth it would provide, but he had no idea how to ask. Before he could organize his words, she spoke.

“Could you lay beside me?” she asked. “I’m freezing.”

Her skin touched his, their legs and sides pressed against each other in the single bed. She was petite and took up less than half the bed. Reho hadn’t slept next to anyone since Red Denver.

He could feel her shivering, the rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to relax. Reho rolled onto his right side, and she nestled her back into his chest. Reho wondered if she could feel his callused scars against her soft skin. Her breathing slowed and steadied as she fell asleep. Her hair cascaded across her shoulder and puddled between them, soft and fragrant, like exotic flowers. The tiny gemstones that studded her ears reminded him of her father’s dying words less than a day ago. They replayed themselves in Reho’s mind as he watched Rainne sleep.
She must not die
. That part hadn’t troubled him, but the last part had.
She must follow . . . What had he been trying to say?

***

The storm persisted throughout the night and showed no signs of slacking when Reho woke. Rainne had slept motionless the entire night, though he’d been less fortunate. His mind had wandered through his childhood, keeping sleep at bay. He found nuggets of happy memories among the horrors of his mother’s trauma and the loss of his parents at a young age.

He returned to his room to shower and dress. It wasn’t often he had instant hot water, so he would take the chance to shower at every opportunity.

Thursday was in the navigation room. His shift wouldn’t end for another hour. Reho brought him hot coffee from the cafeteria, where Sola sat reading through documents she had found in the captain’s cabin. She hadn’t said much, but did offer a “Good morning!” and “There’s coffee.” Rest had done her well.

Reho sipped his coffee as it sloshed about in the cup. “What do you make of the storm?” He peered into a panel lined with outer cameras.

“The ship can’t link to any satellites. It has the equipment but no access. This ship is off the grid, indeed,” Thursday said. “As far as the storm, your guess is as good as mine. Gibson might have a better answer if the lurker ever wakes up.” Thursday lit a cigarette and leaned back in the chair, propping his feet up on the dash. Reho pulled a rolling chair next to his.

“What are we doing?” Reho’s eyes told Thursday he had been in the dark long enough.

“Sola and Ends would kill me for telling you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Our employer is planning a war. With whom, I thought I knew. I thought it was a community maybe in the Eastern Bloc.”

The door opened, startling Thursday, who spilled his coffee on his lap.

“Jesus!”

“I see everyone beat me to the coffee,” Gibson said. “You know, this stuff is supposed to go in your mouth and not on your crotch.” Thursday shot him an annoyed look.

“About time Sleeping Beauty woke. I’ve been in here since two,” Thursday said, tossing his empty coffee cup into a trash can.

“Now, let’s see what this storm is doing.” Gibson said.

“Without the access codes, we’re sitting ducks out here,” Reho said, repeating what Thursday had told him.

“Who said we don’t have access?” Gibson asked. “Ah . . . Thursday did.” He rapidly flipped switches and turned on one of the monitors labeled
Titan IV.
The blue screen faded to black as a reboot box appeared. He hammered in several lines of command. The screen flickered, then displayed an oceanic map blinking in and out.

“Looks like our storm is going to ruin Ends’ morning,” Gibson stated.

“How bad?” Reho asked.

“It resembles the one I saw as a kid just before Log disconnected the feed,” Gibson said. “But this one is half the size. But that’s not the point. The point is, there is no way to avoid this storm. We are going to have to ride it out. This will delay us about a day.”

“Is fuel an issue?”

“No, we have enough fuel. Time is the issue.” Gibson moved away from Reho and returned to the navigation controls.

Reho headed for the door.

“Wait,” Gibson said. “Have everyone come to the navigation room.”

Reho and Rainne
had spent almost every hour together since that second night.

The storm had lasted four days, slowing their progress to Neopan by eighteen hours. Now they were less than twelve hours away.

That second night, as Rainne slept in Reho’s arms, a barrier came down, one that Reho had built around himself since leaving Red Denver. He wanted to know her, be with her, and have her in his life. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but he knew that he could find contentment if she was around. And they had grown attached to sleeping next to each other at night. It wasn’t just the physical closeness that mattered. An emotional bond developed and flourished as they whispered in the darkness, each waiting for the other to fall asleep. Reho never suggested they do more than talk, but he felt the urges that come with being alone with a beautiful girl.

Now, they sat alone in one of two theater rooms, the projector replaying the only film left behind on its reel:
Terminator 2: Judgment Day.
It repeated for the third time as they sat quietly, Rainne nestled in Reho’s arms. The violence on the screen numbed them, vanquishing thoughts of Hegemon and warbeasts.

She wrapped herself in his arms; the same arms that took life seemed so capable of renewing it. She talked of Mar less as the days passed. Her father she would honor whenever something good happened or when a pleasant memory returned. She spoke even less of her mother who had always been distant and uninvolved in her life. Her mother had adored Mar to the point of neglecting Rainne. She also shared how her mother had gone through terrible trauma years before Rainne had been born. Reho learned that nightmares had plagued her mother, much as they had Reho’s own mother. Both of their mothers had suffered much. Reho knew Rainne’s suffering had been the greater, because she had known her parents all her life. For Reho, his parents were only childhood memories. Rainne had lived her entire life with her family until just a few days ago.

As the credits rolled and the thematic music played, Rainne reached up and pulled Reho’s face toward hers. Her tender kiss ignited a desire and need long repressed, and as he ran his hands through her hair and down her shoulders, Reho knew he wanted more. The tenderness gave way to passion, as their bodies stretched across the theater seats. They pressed against each other as Reho took away the past and gave her a future. They melted and mixed, creating something new from what had been two lonely, damaged individuals—one a refugee, the other a wanderer.

Afterward
they slept, folded into each other.

Reho dreamed of Jimmy and the city of light and mirrors.

***

Everyone saw it on the monitor before Gibson could say what it was.

Neopan stood in contrast to everything else on the screen. Ocean and land highlighted the navigational map in hues of blue and green. But Neopan was white.

Gibson touched the shimmering white dot on the screen. “It’s the metal and electricity causing it to appear that way.”

“Can we pull into the bay undetected?” Ends asked. His wound had healed, and whatever had been between him and Sola seemed to have passed. The mission was his focus.

“Nothing goes undetected by Log,” Gibson said.

“Log controls the city and whatever information comes in and out of it,” Thursday said. “Log won’t detect the yacht if we dock several miles out and take a the water taxi into the harbor.”

“Then that’s the plan,” Ends said. “We still have to go through customs. We have to leave anything considered a threat here. We go with the clothes on our back and smartcards.” He looked at Reho and Rainne, her hands locked around his arm. “Reho and Rainne haven’t been registered. Gibson, you take them to the kiosks. The rest of us will meet with the employer.”

***

They would dock, then separate, reuniting at the Shining Moon Hotel several blocks from the bay. Gibson explained that Neopan would detect someone unregistered and keep them under surveillance. They didn’t need Log watching their every move while there.

Neopan glimmered in the distance. Its alien metal bounced the sun’s rays out onto the ocean like a lighthouse. Its outer walls reflected the sky, casting an illusion that made it appear to not exist. Once in the bay, its structure had unveiled. Elevated towers of varying heights filled the city. Built close together, their roofs crowded with people moving from one tower to the next. The street below shuffled people along, as did a maze of walkways wrapping around the buildings, from ground level to rooftop.

Otherworldly
was the best word Reho could find for it.

Ends and Thursday secured the boat. People crowded the docks; their skin colors varied, as did their clothing style.

“There is a kiosk nearby,” Gibson said. “It’s automated, so it shouldn’t take long.”

Rainne clung to Reho’s side as they made their way through the docks and into the city.

The streets were crowded with vehicles, zipping around corners and zooming into view from the roads that ran beneath the city. It was like watching a colony of frantic ants scurrying about their business. Vehicles moved with purpose along the streets. Some had lighted signs on top:
City Taxi
. Above them, the walkways moved automatically. He hadn’t noticed it from the boat, but no one’s legs moved. Escalators connected the street to the roofs, some wrapping the buildings.

Kiosk 9G sat between two businesses: Coffee Shop 7A and Today’s Style 2W. Reho stepped in first. Its single door led to a compact room. An automated female voice prompted him through the process:
Enter Date of Birth or choose Unknown. Enter First Name and Last Name or choose Unknown
.
Enter Birth City or choose Unknown.
Reho did as told, placing his right index finger on the scanner. A quick prick took a DNA sample.

Her voice returned:
Error. Please reset finger in highlighted area.

Reho did as she asked. Again, an error message
.
Reho repositioned his finger a third time.

Success. Please place forehead on highlighted area and look into the red light.

Reho did so. A green light.
Success.

Step onto the lighted area and raise your arms until the light turns yellow.

Reho complied. Dozens of sensors popped toward him from the walls then spun around him, emitting flashes of blue and white light.

Success. Please wait one moment for your identification card to be processed.

Below the display, a plastic card ejected.
Thank you for complying with Neopan Policy 549B by registering. Please enjoy your stay and consider a permanent residence here in Neopan. Plenty of apartments remain vacant. If interested in more information, press one.

“Good,” Rainne said as Reho emerged from the kiosk. “My turn.” She kicked herself off the wall she and Gibson leaned against.

Rainne closed the door behind her.

Gibson shrugged. “She’s in a hurry.”

“She’s not wanting to stay here, is she?”

“Who knows, Reho? The last time I tried to figure out a girl
, I was ten. Once you have one of them kiss you and then punch you in the face two seconds later, it ruins any desire to try and understand them.”

Reho read his identification card. A string of letters and numbers ran across the top. His picture appeared with a sliding tab below it. Next to it was other information and a sequence of numbers. Gibson snatched the card and slid the tab. A hologram of Reho protruded from the image. Reho took it back and held it close.

“It’s exact,” Gibson said.

“What are the numbers and letters for?”

“The top sequence registered you for a credit account, and the shorter sequence is you identification code for Log. The credit account is offered to nonresidents. If you use it, just make sure you pay it out before we leave.”

The kiosk door slid open.

Rainne stepped out with a childish smile, holding up her identification card. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before. Where do we go now?”

“I know someone who will blow your minds,” Gibson replied. “He runs a shop not far from here.” Reho tried to question Gibson about the shop as they walked, but Gibson remained silent. Reho slid Rainne’s card, activating the hologram.

“That is so awesome!” Whatever sadness she still carried, it was gone, even if just for a short while.