Fantastic Children 2 Ch.5

Chapter 5: Soreto, Winter, Belle: Beginnings

The ship in which Dumas had traveled from Greecia was uncommonly small and functional: as was only reasonable, if he had planned to abandon it and return via the Zone. The equipment was packed tightly and efficiently into the hold, and once the two robots that Dumas called for had been activated, the Greecian scientists stepped back and let them take care of the unloading.

Soreto had absorbed the data Dumas had brought with him, as had the others.  Now she continued to study it in detail on a data pad. Having something artificially implanted into your memory was quick and useful, but visual records were far more reliable than memory when every detail needed to be considered. And implanted memories were notoriously unstable, unless you reinforced them with actual study.

The situation did seem dire, and would quickly become catastrophic as the continued cold must send innumerable species of plants and animals into extinction. Nearby, Agi was unpacking and setting up one of the new sensor panels.  Soreto could tell by his movements that he had not yet let go of his anger. Or perhaps it was just tension from having another disaster laid at their feet, and another dire mission to accomplish. She sighed.  It would have been wonderful to be reunited with her colleagues under less urgent circumstances. Some part of her, even when she was Flo, had missed them.

"We're lucky there's such a time difference between Earth and Greecia," Soreto said. "We will need all the time we can spare just to learn to use the new equipment.  Everything seems to have changed since we left."

"With any sort of foresight, Dumas will have brought memory cards for training purposes," Agi said shortly.  "There is no time to waste. If we can't solve this crisis quickly, we will be forced to try Dumas's solution.  And if that doesn't fix anything, we will find ourselves on Greecia, with no time advantage any more, trying to find a way to repair the damage from there.  We need to be thorough, and we need to work quickly."

"Maybe. Let me run this by you," Tarlant said.  "Dumas has his big change of heart and returns to Greecia alone.  He wonders what he was thinking, and after kicking himself for a month, comes up with this idea to force the princess to return, and finish us off once and for all."

"You think Dumas faked the data?" Seth asked.

"He wouldn't!" Princess Tina objected.  

"The information on Greecia's climate seems pretty credible to me," Soreto said.  She had recognized several of the names associated with the research, and their writing style was consistent with what she remembered of their earlier work.  

"It doesn't matter," Agi said. "We don't have the option of disbelief.  If we refuse to cooperate with Dumas, and it turns out he was telling the truth..."

Agi didn't have to finish the sentence.  Then they would have doomed Greecia. They were silent.

"But even if he is right," Soreto said, "how can we know that returning through the Zone will repair anything?  If we've caused...well...something like a rupture between Earth's zone and Greecia's, might reversing the process just make it worse than ever?"

Agi shook his head as he connected several leads and cables from a control board to the sensor panel array.  "Let's just do our best to find a solution right here on Earth so we never need to try it."

"And if we can't fix it here, we go back to Greecia?" Tarlant asked.  "If Soreto's right, and that doesn't do any good at all, won't we just be returning to die with rest of the planet?"

"What choice do we have?" Mel demanded. "Either go there and die with the planet, or stay here while it dies, knowing we might have saved Greecia, but were afraid to take the risk?"

"Mel is right.  We have no choice," said Agi.  "So less talk and more work."

The others returned to their tasks.

"Hey, I kind of feel like a fifth wheel around here," Seth asked.  "How can I help?"

That's all right, we know what we're doing," Soreto said.

"Yeah, but--"

Come on, Seth," Tina said, walking toward the beach.  "We're only getting underfoot. Let's watch the sunset, it looks like it's going to be a lovely one."

Soreto frowned as she looked toward the western sky.  The sun was low in the sky, scattering a pale pink blush over the clouds.  It would be dark before they completed assembling the instruments. She didn't want to quit for the night yet, not with the sense of urgency so fresh and strong.

She turned to mention this to Agi.  To her surprise he stood still, hands clenched at his sides, in the same place he had been when he last spoke.

"Agi?"

"I promised Ian's mother that I would return," Agi said bitterly. "I promised!"

Soreto bit her lip. Flo's father had nearly been destroyed by the disappearance of his daughter.  It had taken him years to throw off his alcoholism and depression. Even now, she sometimes felt as if she were the parent and he had somehow become the child. If Flo were to vanish again, would her father ever recover?

"We'll find a solution on Earth," she said firmly.

"So, do you mean...if we do...we won't be returning to Greecia?"

They all turned to look at Hasmodai. He flushed.  "It's just that, well, it IS our home, after all."

Soreto hesitated.  It hadn't occurred to her to think beyond the success of their mission.  While she, given a choice, would certainly stay on Earth, as she was sure Agi would, she was seized by a sudden longing to return to her planet, and to see the familiar cities and mountains of her childhood.  Her first childhood.

Exiled together, the question had never arisen of who would go home and who would stay.  If they could leave Earth, how many of them would?

"Dumas is coming," Tarlant said quickly.

"Don't hit him again, Agi," Mel pleaded.

"I won't," Agi said.

"Why not?" Tarlant asked.  "That was a really good punch."

"It was childish.  We have to work together if..." he stopped as Dumas neared, and returned to his work.

"The Homonculoids can have everything assembled overnight, while you sleep," Dumas said. "I don't know why you're even bothering, unless you like feeling useful."

"I like feeling useful," Agi said.

"Homonculoids? Is that what you call those robots?"  Tarlant watched with eager interest as the robots approached bearing more sensor panels.  "Are they a new model?"

The robots were smaller and sleeker than the security robots Soreto had seen on Georca's ship. Their arched coppery bodies were carapaced with shiny, translucent white scales, giving the construct something like a crayfish's shape. It moved on eight long, spidery legs, and a host of smaller limbs and attachments unfolded from its underside when needed.  It was surmounted by a continually rotating copper-colored sphere with two large black sensor orbs embedded in it.  Another orb was fixed in the robot's underside.

"The Homonculoid robots have been in use for several years, now.  They are almost completely self-maintained, able to carry out even complicated and delicate tasks, and are extremely durable," Dumas said. "Their only weakness is that their cortical centers tend to burn out every twenty days or so, but since those are inexpensive, replaceable and entirely recyclable, they are extremely practical robots.  I left all of Georca's utility robots here to dismantle and destroy what remained of the GED group's autozone, under Mel's direction, and they have been responsible for the building and maintenance of the Rugen Institute since."

"Forty-three! One-ninety-seven!" Dumas called, and the two robots laid down their burdens and approached.  "I give you these two Homonculoids to help you with your work.  If you'll step forward and speak your names..."

Tarlant was the first, eagerly announcing his name.  The two machines made a series of chittering beeps in response. "And this is Wonder," he added, and the robots acknowledged the old dog at his feet.

Soreto stepped forward next. It felt slightly unsettling to stand before the arch of the enormous legs, the orb in each robot's belly reflecting her curved and warped image.  But when she announced her name, each orb flashed with a serene blue light, and there was a change in the stance of the Homonculoids that made her feel greeted and welcomed.

Hasmodai was the next to step forward and speak.  

"They already know me," Mel said.  "Agi?"

Agi was still working on the sensor control panel, but he put down the tool he was using and stepped forward.  "Agi," he said.  "And Ian." Then he returned to his task.

"Should we call Seth and Tina?" Tarlant asked.  "I suppose they can wait until later.  Hey!" he called after Dumas, who had turned away.  "What are the robots' names?"

"They are Forty-three and One-ninety-seven," said Dumas. "It's marked on their sides.  There are over three hundred Homonculoids working at the Institute, there's no point in treating them like individuals." He walked on.

"Well, if I'm going to work with them, they need names," Tarlant said.  He pointed to one robot.  "You are Bubble!" The machine burbled.  "And you are Squeak!"  The second robot made a high-pitched beep.

"I think they like the names," Hasmodai said, smiling.

"I'll have to paint them different colors," Tarlant said.  "So they are easier to tell apart."

"Later," Agi said.  "Now they have work to do,.  And so do you."

As the robots returned to carting equipment, Tarlant bent back over the circuit board he was assembling.  But he had a broad smile across his face, and Soreto couldn't help smiling herself to see it.  He was the same old Tarlant. Whatever happened, he could always find some small joy in life to help him survive, as long as he had a dog or robot to love.

As she returned to her own work, she caught sight of Agi, still working on the sensor array, his face tired and grim and strained, and her smile faded.

---

Delvan Winter reached the top of the stairs. He was in the right place.  The office door on the left had a blank piece of paper taped over its window, but the light coming from within the room showed the silhouette of the lettering on the glass: N.H. Cooks, Private Investigator.  Underneath, in smaller letters, was the unusual notice, Rate reductions for significant weirdness.  Winter knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door opened partway, and a stocky man with a bristling black moustache glared out through the gap.  "We're closed," he said.  "I've retired."

"Er…Alice Holingworth sent me.  She said that—"

"Oh, yeah.  Alice called me."  Cooks stepped aside, opening the door further to let Winter in.  "All right, I'll listen to your case, just as a favor for an old friend.  But I don't make any promises. Have a seat, I'll go make us some coffee."

Cooks stepped into the adjoining room, and Winter looked for a place to sit.  The room contained a desk, the chair behind it, a small couch and a coffee table.  Every flat surface but the chair was cluttered with file folders, newspaper clippings, scrapbooks and other rubble.  Winter remained standing.

On the wall hung a plaque, engraved with best wishes on his retirement from the National Law Enforcement Agency.  It was dated three years ago.  Framed nearby was his private detective's license, a group photo of Cooks among some police officers, and strangely, an aged sepia photo of several pale-haired children.

With a shrug. Winter removed a stack of newspapers from the couch and sat down, putting them on the table.  The top paper had an article marked in red, about a school event in Nohedge.  A photo showed the image of a pretty blond girl working at an educational display about coral reef destruction. The paper was dated over a year ago. Curious, he lifted it and looked at the paper underneath.  The headline was:West Silies Resident Wins National Robot Demolition Derby. A scruffy boy stood proudly by a machine that looked as if it had been constructed from discarded appliances, his father beside him and a dog at his feet.  The paper was dated four years ago.

Cooks entered with two cups of coffee, and Winter put the newspapers down hastily.  Cooks made his way behind the desk and dropped into the chair.  Winter noticed that he did not look very well.

But then, Winter thought as he took a sip, it might be the coffee that was killing him.  He managed to swallow the bitter mouthful, thinking that it would probably be rude to spit it out into the pot of the dying houseplant in the corner, however much it appeared to need watering.

"So, tell me about this case of yours," Cooks said.

Winter almost took another sip of coffee, then found a space to put the cup on the table.  "Have you ever heard of the Weaver twins?"

"The Brightwater whiz kids." Cooks nodded. "Sure, Castor and Pollux.  Born in St. Remi. They contributed to the design of the climate regulation machines, and Brightwater has about fifty or more patents on their other inventions.  They're, what, almost five years old, now?"

Winter was impressed.

Something must have showed in his face, because Cooks waved a hand deprecatingly. "It's just a hobby of mine.  I take an interest in…unusual children. Anyway, why do you ask?"

"I work for the National Department of Education," Winter said.  "Recently, the twins' parents turned over custody of the boys to Brightwater Industries, apparently as part of a financial arrangement. When Brightwater obtained passports for them, and it was learned that the twins were being taken to one of Brightwater's maintenance and research stations in Antarctica, various people in Social Services became concerned. They blocked the Weavers' exit from the country by invoking the national child protection laws, those pertaining to education in particular.  So Brightwater applied to have the boys take a high school equivalency test at once. I was sent to administer the test."

"And how did they do?"

"They passed flawlessly." Cooks nodded, unsurprised.

Winter went on, "So, two four-year-old boys are officially high school graduates, and last night Brightwater took them quietly out of the country before any other legal interference could be brought to bear. But…well…when I gave them the test, I just got the feeling something was wrong. Castor was hostile, cold as a stone.  And Pollux seemed…well, terrified is the only word. Desperate and out of his depth and trying not to show it."

Cooks grunted. "And what can you tell me about the rest of the situation?  What was your impression of Brightwater?"

"Well," Winters said hesitantly.  "The whole place was very high-security.  Guards escorted me in and out, and guarded the door while the boys were being tested.  It certainly didn't feel like a good situation for children to be kept in.  Doctor Mellert, who seems to be their primary caregiver, seems…er…I wouldn't go so far as to say uncaring, but perhaps emotionally unengaged.  And her assistant is Kahale Baldwin.  I don't know any details, but he worked for Social Services himself at one time, and left under a cloud several years ago."

"So," Cooks said.  "The twins have already left the country, they're more or less under the legal authority of Brightwater, and they're being kept under guard. I'll admit, the situation sounds less than ideal, but as far as I can see, none of it's a crime."

"That's why I came to a private investigator and not the police," Winter said.  "Before I left the Brightwater building, I gave my card to Pollux and asked him to call me if he needed to talk to someone.  Two nights ago, around two in the morning, I got a telephone call.  Nobody spoke for some time, and then a child's voice said, 'Help me,' and the phone went dead."

Cooks sat and stared at his coffee.  "Could have been a prank call," he finally growled.

"Mr. Cooks, I am getting old, I have a job and a family," Winters said earnestly. "It may be cowardly, but I simply can't do anything about checking out this situation myself.  Except to hire you.  I haven't got much money, but if you tell me what it would cost to get you to look into this matter further, I promise you, I will find a way to pay you somehow."

Cooks sighed and leaned back in his chair.  He picked up a magazine and tossed it to Winter.  "What do you make of that?"

Winter picked up the magazine and stared in disbelief.  On the cover were the Weaver twins.  Castor looked less angry, Pollux less frightened, but it was them. The magazine was a children's monthly, and Winter flipped through the pages to an interview with the twins.

The interview was short and simple, as it must be for its young readers. It was just a few questions about how they had discovered their love of science, and what it was like being a twin.  The answers were upbeat, cute and funny. The interview ended with:
Q: How do you like being a genius?
Castor: It's great!
Pollux: It's fun! (laughs)

Under the interview were personal profiles.  They claimed that Pollux enjoyed swimming and roller skating, and that he loved Pokémon.  Castor, apparently, was fond of radio-controlled airplanes, surfing, and chocolate.

"These aren't them," Winter said flatly.

"Those aren't the same boys you met?"

"No."  Winter shook his head.  "I mean, the picture looks like them, but this interview…it's not them!"

"You wouldn't think," Cooks remarked, " that developing most of Brightwater's most lucrative patents for the last year would leave much time for surfing and watching Pokémon, would you? Have you read the last paragraph?"

Winter looked at the magazine again and read: Castor and Pollux Weaver will be appearing in animated form in August as the stars of the first of a series of educational adventure video games, Quest for the Last Dinosaur. Brightwater Industries is also in negotiations with ActionStar Studios of Japan over a future animated series and manga series featuring the twins.

"Not that there's any crime in squeezing the last bit of profit out of your cash cows," Cooks said, getting up.  "I doubt the Weaver kids will even know it's happening."  He stretched and wandered over to stand in front of the old sepia photograph, gazing at the strange children in it silently.

"All right," Cooks finally said.  "I'll take your case.  What the heck, maybe everyone ought to see Antarctica before they die."

"Thank you so much." Winter stood.  "If you let me know how much—"

"I'll send you a bill," said Cooks.

"Thank you," Winters said again.  "Oh, and..er…on your door.  About the rate reduction for significant weirdness?"

Cooks smiled.  "Let's wait and see how weird it gets."

---

Belle was more than bored, she was annoyed.  It was late, and below the hill where she sat in darkness, Ian continued to work under floodlights.  Belle pulled out her cell phone again, but there was still no reception, which was completely ridiculous on an island so covered with technology.

She had tried to talk to Ian a few times, but he blinked in surprise, as if he had forgotten her existence, and had distractedly suggested she take a walk around the island, as if that wasn't what she had been doing the whole time. There wasn't much to see, since Kuril Island was small and most of it was covered by concrete slabs and the buildings of the Rugen Institute.

Wishing she hadn't come, Belle shoved her cell phone back into her purse.  She had thought it would be a fun trip, and a chance to spend time with her big brother.  She had never imagined that Ian would DUMP her this way and be all caught up with new friends and obsessed with some stupid science project.  

They were all absorbed in their work, as if it was important or something, and Belle had nobody to talk to.  Even the dog had abandoned her the moment it had caught sight of its master. To add to her sense of isolation, Ian and his friends had all started calling each other by ridiculous code names! Even more ridiculous, Doctor Hawksbee seemed to be a part of it.  The first time Ian had called out asking 'Mel' to bring something, Belle had thought he was talking to her, and felt like an idiot when Doctor Hawksbee fetched a tool while Belle was still asking what the heck a resonance meter was.

And if there was one thing that was creepy, it was adults trying to act as if they were kids again.  Gherta Hawksbee must be about sixty, and there she was, calling everyone by silly nicknames, wearing a weird black costume with kneepads and boots, and, Belle swore, swinging a sword around at one point!  Belle even overheard the old woman talking to the other kids about an enema, and not ONE of them so much as rolled their eyes. What was WRONG with them?

Belle had hung around them all for a while hoping to be included in the game, but found herself completely ignored until that Flo asked her to please move because she was standing where one of those stupid robot-like machines was trying to walk.

Now she glared down at Flo, working beside her big brother.  The girl seemed reasonably nice, in a dull, serious kind of way, if you didn't care that her clothes weren't anything like what was in fashion.  But she was not what Belle would want in a big sister. And no way was she good enough for Ian.  Belle supposed Ian would have a girlfriend eventually, but it had to be someone EXTRA special.  He wasn't just a gorfy science geek, like the rest of them.  He was sweet and strong and handsome and great at sports, and was chosen as president of his class at school every year. It annoyed her how much time Flo seemed to be spending working next to Ian.  She was TOTALLY flirting with him, Belle was certain.

Belle checked her cell phone again and sighed.  It wouldn't be so bad if there were at least some hot boys to look at.  She supposed Captain Thoma was good-looking, but he acted so totally enthusiastic about everything, like a little kid.  It was SO not cool. And anyway, he was obviously hung up on that bland, pasty-faced Helga girl.  Besides, she had heard a couple of the others calling him 'Lord Seth' so 'Captain Thoma' apparently had a thing about titles, even in his code name.

Even Helga had a code name, if you could call it that. Tina.  What kind of a code name was Tina?  It only put a cap on the total boringness of this girl. Though Belle supposed that if she had been stuck with a name like Helga, she'd rather be called by something normal for a change, too. Helga. Hell-gaaaaah.

Teo was kind of cute, Belle supposed, in a vague, dreamy, too-sweet kind of way.  Not her type, though a few of her friends could probably fall for him, especially if he had been a poet or singer or something, instead of a science nut.

As for Kalie, he was a total loss.  From his cut-it-myself hair to his gorfy grin to his Mecha Warrior tee shirt to his dirty store-brand sneakers with the holes worn over the little toes, he might just as well stand in Clairmont Square screaming I'M PROUD TO BE A GEEK!

Just as Belle was about to check her cell AGAIN, she noticed someone else.

Standing in the doorway of the nearest building, leaning slouched against the doorframe, was a boy in a gorgeously tailored tan suit with a black shirt and no tie.  His artfully tousled hair was the same silvery white Ian's had been when he was young, his face was angelically beautiful, and he watched the others at work with an expression of boredom and sardonic contempt.

Wow, Belle thought.  This trip might be some fun after all.