Replicate
“The CD cases and discs are covered with scuff marks - these ain’t bootlegs - they’re the genuine article! Where’d you get them, Sis? They’re practically priceless!” I gasped.
Sitting beside me on the bunk bed, Katiana squeezed my hand. “Happy Birthday, Bro. You are happy, right?”
“You think I’m faking this, Kiddo? I’ve been searching for these antiques for decades. And here you are giving me all three twenty-first century Ami Takahashi Virtual trance presents ami trance albums!” Although elated, a glance at her ruined face sent excruciating pangs of guilt shooting through my stomach. Decades had passed since she took that bullet in the face, but I would never become accustomed to the sight of her once beautiful features marred by translucent synthetic skin covering polymer muscles and ceramic bone replacements.
“Thought you’d be pleased.”
“Pleased doesn’t even begin to describe it, Sis,” I said. “I want to hear them now - you think I can skip the presentation?”
“Come on, Mike, you’re a war hero. Go get your medal. Then we can jack into the net and pop these albums on continuous play until we’re all ‘tranced’ out.”
With great reluctance I handed the discs back to her and stood to straighten my uniform.
Reality, however, took a right turn into the realm of hallucinatory dreams when the ami trance 2 disc disintegrated into a cloud of microscopic dust - dust which of its own accord preceded to envelope my sister’s exposed arm.
“Arrr…ungh…get them off me!” Katiana shrieked as her skin began absorbing the dust. It was like watching a mold spore’s explosion played backwards in slow motion.
I swatted frantically at the dust but this barely even impeded its progress. In a moment all traces of it were gone - assimilated by her arm. She tried to grab me but collapsed to the metal decking, back arched in agony while mouthing voiceless screams.
The door chimed.
This was no coincidence - the timing was too precise.
“Open,” I snapped.
The door swished open to admit two corporate-types in black suits and mirror shades: illegal arms dealers.
“What have you done to my sister?”
“Cooperate and we’ll remove the nanites. Don’t and we’ll let them replicate - inside her.”
“What do you want?”
A suit stepped forward. “The president pins a medal on your chest in two hours, Mister War Hero. Thanks to his orbital’s dampening field rendering our nanotech inactive, we can’t touch him. So you’re going to terminate him for us.”
Aghast, I looked at my sister as she writhed on the floor. Eight thousand orbitals had warred for seven centuries resulting in the deaths of millions. President Berenger not only brokered the ceasefire but also maintained the peace. Remove him, and the conflict would resume.
“You have any idea of how much she loves you? She spent a decade’s wages buying those ‘albums’ from us. You just gonna let us waste her?” the suit said.
His words cut to me to the core. But the proof of her selfless love for me was not these CDs, but her fearsome injuries - injuries that should have been mine. I hung my head, defeated. “I’ll do it.”
“Of course you will. Now hold out your left hand.”
The ami trance 3 disc dissolved into another cloud of nanites that my outstretched left hand absorbed in seconds. Paralysed, I watched in dismay as the nanites opened my hand, rebuilt the bones inside into a fully functional needle gun that was undetectable by known security devices, and then closed up the wound. The nanites poured back out of me.
“When Berenger pins the medal to your chest, make a fist, aim it at him, and squeeze the hand.”
I was trapped and I knew it. I made for the door.
The suit touched my shoulder on the way past. “It takes an hour for replicating nanites to consume a human host. I’m told the pain is beyond human comprehension. Don’t fail.”
* * *
President Berenger was pinning a medal on my copilot’s chest. I was next.
I thought of my sister, contorted in agony, waiting for release. Her life was in my hand, literally. Two long centuries of memories flashed through my mind. Oh, the times we had spent together, the things we had seen. The support we had given to Berenger as he fought to end the chaos.
My face burned as guilt consumed me. Everything that so many had worked for, for so long, would collapse when I assassinated the only man whom could maintain the peace. The government would fall, chaos would ensue, the illegal arms traders would resume their lucrative business, and millions more would die as orbitals resumed open warfare - all because of me.
Anger raged through me at the unfairness of having been placed in such a predicament. I knew what I was about to do was wrong, but what choice did I have? That bounty hunter’s bullet had my name on it, but my sister leapt in front of me, knowing what it would cost her. I owed her everything, and would not sacrifice her for some indeterminate greater good.
Unaware of his imminent doom, President Berenger stood before me. He shook my right hand while he placed the medal on my chest.
My pulse roared as I made a fist with my left hand and aimed it at his heart. One squeeze and it would be over. My sister would be safe, and the Orbital Coalition would collapse.
“Well done, Wing Commander Daniels,” said the President. Then, for my ears only, “Thanks, Mike -I could not have done it without you.”
I lowered the hand. “Forgive me, Sis,” I mouthed.
A tear fell. My heart died.
“You okay, friend?” asked the President, about to move on.
“Emotional day, Sir.”
