Day 87, Year 183 of 309, 18:00

Interstellar Greatship Melpomene

Executive Sector Alpha

Sometimes the citizens of the greatship Melpomene refused to accept the truth. In flesh-space Chief Enforcer Finlo Grady tensed his blunt fingers around the armrests of his office chair. In the bio-network of the Share, he resonated a mass thought-send of disapproval to the Conclave.

"How many times must I explain?" His virtual message growled to the thousands of unaltered dissidents in thought-space. "PostHom isn't the elixir of eternal youth. It's an addictive crutch. Take it from me. Sure, I'm two hundred and eight years old, but my body's a mess. It doesn't give you immortality, no matter what the pseudo-science claims. I volunteered to become post-hom to protect and guide this Seed mission, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

"The Chief Enforcer is correct," sent Caretaker Sanvaris Neto, the only other First Gen post-hominid like Finlo and Sister. "I also disapprove of anything which would endanger the living and the unborn."

The citizens' reply roared in waves of data current at Finlo and Neto. Finlo weathered the crash with the obstinate rock of his will.

"You want proof of the long-term effects of PostHom?" Finlo retorted. "Look at what's happened to the rest of the altered First Gens. All of them dead or gone insane. Prolonged life isn't for everyone. Your mind weakens, even though your body looks young and healthy. It's an extended nightmare."

Sister's all-encompassing presence rippled a vast sigh through the Share, and everyone fell silent. "Chief Enforcer, Caretaker, your noble contributions are praised by all. Yet the wishes of the citizens must be considered. PostHom has been questionable in some cases, but my researchers have made excellent progress developing a new version. To deny our citizens the right to choose violates the morals of our society. I find the selfish viewpoint you both harbor disappointing, and thus I uphold the proposal for further assessment. The Conclave is adjourned."

The Conclave-channel disintegrated from Finlo's mind. Grumbling, he tore the bio-receiver from his head and pushed himself to his feet.

"Fuck this." Selfish--of all the damned nerve. Sister was far over the line to humiliate him and Neto before the Conclave.

Sister knew of PostHom's drawbacks better than anyone. Her physical body floated in a vat of it somewhere inside her Spire, her flesh constantly rejuvenated while her magnified consciousness directed the ship and the Share. She was as old as he and Neto were and just as dependent on the substance. Before she'd volunteered her mind and body to become one of the Nine Sisters--the nine women who'd sacrificed themselves to PostHom to guide the Seed missions--Melpomene's name had been Gwendola Harken. Just another bright-eyed young kid like Finlo had been at the time. Sister seemed to have lost her common sense. If so, the entire mission was in jeopardy.

It wasn't the first time he'd opposed Sister, and it wouldn't be the last given the idiocy of this distribution proposal. If Melpomene became a megalomaniacal goddess, he'd shove her back into place. Sister always had the final say, but Finlo and Neto were still part of Central Command.

A pale beam of artificial daylight glinted through the tall window--bright, but never as warm as a real sun. Finlo leaned against the glass and rubbed his chin. Seething wouldn't do. He had to remain vigilant for the sake of everything he believed in. Though his parents were long dead, the values they'd instilled lived on in him. He vowed to never forget them--and to help the children remember what being 'human' truly meant.

***

20:00

Entertainment Sector Sigma

The Workman's Well pub

He hoped for an uneventful night out after the spectacle at the Conclave. Finlo usually enjoyed time alone after a long shift, but he couldn't shake his unease. He didn't care enough to change out of his Enforcer uniform before heading to his favorite den.

The pub was almost empty. Only a few people sat in well-spaced intervals at the darkened tables and the bar. Stiff faces drooped over even stiffer drinks. Buzzing neon lit the shadows in a garish flicker, the air heavy with sickly-sweet vape plumes. Screens along the far wall flashed soundless clips from the latest bolt race matches. He watched in dull interest until someone approached from behind.

A woman's dusky voice whispered, and soft lips brushed his cheek. "I thought I'd find you here."

He spun about on the barstool and accidentally sloshed brandy across the counter. It was Jess Areval, one of the top-ranking members of his Enforcer team. He scowled and tried to sound authoritative. "Sneaking up on me is a bad idea. You should know better."

Her lips eased into a smile, and she sat on a stool beside him. Jess' dark brown eyes mirrored the neon's blink, reminding Finlo of a time long ago when he'd watched stars glisten over Earth's ocean. Ironic that eyes which had never seen such beauty resembled it. Jess was unaltered Eighth Gen like most of the current population. She was young enough to be his several-greats granddaughter, though physically they appeared the same age. Finlo's flesh was trapped by PostHom at thirty-something, while Jess was a very natural and radiant twenty-nine.

"I suppose you've come to watch me drown myself." He shot the rest of his drink. "See? Even a post-hom wallows in self-pity. Only difference is mine never ends."

She wrapped soft fingers around his hand. "Actually, I came to check on you. The Conclave was...interesting."

"Nice way to sugar-coat it." He looked away. This woman sure knew how to tease him, especially in bed. "'I'm fine. Sister just needs to get reality through her junk-addled brain. Neto and I will see to that."

She frowned. "If you don't mind, may I ask why you're so against the proposal? The majority of citizens want it, and Sister would never harm us. Why not let everyone have a chance at living as long as you?"

"This will probably sound stupid." He sighed. "I believe nature evolved us a certain way, endowed us with certain qualities. Our lives are limited, mortal by design, so that we don't get too proud, too hardened by failure. PostHom slowly kills everything noble in the human heart. I don't want our children to be corrupted by it."

"Our children...what a shame they have to die when it's within our power to save them."

He jostled her shoulder. "Hey, cheer up. I'm just rambling after a drink too many. You're too young to worry like I do."

She studied him through lowered eyelashes. "Come home with me. I want to be with you tonight."

He smirked. "I won't turn you down. But you really should find a man your own age. You know the routine. Get married, breed future colonists. You're wasting your time with a walking bag of hang-ups like me."

"Please." She kissed him, and his resolve crumbled.

He paid his bill and the tip, then he summoned a taxi with a thought-send through the Share. Soon they rode to her apartment in Res Sector Delta, not too far from his own flat.

The filaments lining the top of Melpomene's vast hull had long since dimmed to simulated night. All was quiet, no cars or pedestrians out. The self-contained universe of the greatship slumbered, and there was only the reassuring warmth of Jess' body next to his own. She was one of the few people he considered a friend, whom he could still trust aside from Neto. He put an arm around her.

She smiled but looked away, so distant in spite of her plea for his company. For such a young and attractive woman, she kept a lot of secrets.

***

21:17

Res Sector Sigma

It had been a while since they'd made love. He never pursued her, but he relished every moment they shared. Damn, she was sweet. A temptation he shouldn't fall for, though he never had the strength to resist. Her smooth body arched, head flung back, breath rapid as he kissed and fucked and savored her.

"You like to chase me?" He traced the adorable curl of her ear with his teeth and tongue.

"Always." She gripped his ass as he drove hard between her splayed thighs.

He slowed and pushed deep, as if he could reach her most secluded places. As close as they'd become, there was always a gulf he couldn't bridge. "Why? Don't tell me I'm the best you've ever had. That's bullshit."

Jess laughed and squirmed away, then she wrestled him onto his back. She eased herself on top and continued the ride her own way. Movement slithered through her, hips and breasts swaying. "You're the only person I've ever slept with. The only one I want."

"That's...you're..." Words failed, torn from his throat by the oblivion of flesh and sweat. He bucked and filled her with empty seed. So good, but hollow regret flooded him afterward.

She's fooling herself. I can't give her what she really wants.

He finished her off with his fingers, and they laid next to each other in a sweaty tangle of sheets and battered pillows.

The silence didn't comfort him. "This can't go on forever, you know."

Her chest rose and fell with a sigh. "There's something else I have to tell you. I hope you'll understand."

"Okay..." He propped himself up on an elbow to face her.

Her voice fell to a bare whisper. "I'm pregnant."

He flinched as if she'd struck him with an iron rod. "That's...great news. I suppose I should congratulate you. But why did you just say I'm the only person you've ever slept with when--"

"Because you're the father. I told you the truth. I haven't been with anyone else."

He staggered off the bed. "Impossible. I'm post-hom. I can't..."

Jess slid out of the covers and walked to his side. Street lights outside slanted through the blinds and painted narrow streaks of blue across her silhouette. Her breasts were full from impending motherhood, though she wasn't showing yet, the lines of her torso still trim and athletic. He envisioned a life--his own child--growing within, and he shuddered.

"Fin." Her nickname for him always weakened his defenses. She laced her fingers around his neck and pressed against him. "There's a lot happening--some things I can't explain yet. Let's just be happy for now. We've been given this miracle for a reason."

He turned away from her kiss. "What can't you tell me? I'm your boss, sometimes your lover. I understand you keep a few things to yourself, and I've never expected you'd stay with me, but what kind of fucked up game are you playing?"

"It's not a game. It's our future. I'll tell you everything soon, but there's a few things I have to clear up first."

He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his head on one hand. "If it's true...you must think about this child. PostHom alters the DNA of its users. The baby could have complications. You should terminate it."

"No. I want it as much as I want you."

He pulled her to him, his fingers knotting into her hair. "I'll support you. And I'll be a father, even if--" He swallowed. "There's one condition. You have to tell me what's going on."

"I will. Just trust me, no matter what happens."

He tried to laugh. "You've got a deal, kid."

They laid back down, and he held her, fancying a third tiny heart might beat between their own. He'd never dreamed this could happen. Conceiving a family was something he'd willingly sacrificed when he became post-hom. Part of him couldn't accept the baby was his, but he'd deal with that issue when Jess kept her part of the bargain.

The telescreen's quiet buzz soon lulled them to sleep. He usually dosed before bed, but he'd forgotten in the shock and disorientation of the moment. A bad judgement of timing. Withdrawal hit him with its all-too familiar ravenous need sometime before lights-on.

Finlo jolted upright and clutched his throat. Shit. His nerves and muscles spasmed, pain clawing his nerves like razor wire. Had to dose fast. If he didn't his body would deteriorate, cardiac arrest within minutes. That old visitor--Death, which he'd danced around for almost two centuries--loomed at his door.

He dragged himself off the bed, toward the heap of gear and clothing he'd shed in abandon earlier. A plentiful supply of injectors waited in his utility belt. He popped the case, nearly dropping it from his convulsing hand, but he managed to flick open one of the shiny metal vials. He positioned it against his wrist.

"There, bitch," he said through clenched teeth. "Drink your poison and shut up."

His arm numbed from fingers to shoulder for several minutes as the substance worked its hyped-up nano voodoo along his synapses and cellular structures. Death slinked back to its hovel in the shadows, though he knew it would haunt him again soon enough. Always close, always a reminder he was outside of the normal sphere, that he was something other than human. Post-hom. After-human. What Jess had said about his child being part of the future chilled him. If a child born with the effects of PostHom lived, grew, what changes might it bring?

The dose calmed his frenzy, stilled the agony, and he climbed back into bed. Jess slept, undisturbed and beautiful. He studied her a while--in many ways a stranger, and now the mother of everything he'd silently envied.

Unable to sleep, he turned up the Share-cast. The telescreen display flipped to a news brief, the anchorwoman's face pale and drawn. The glowing star-within-sphere logo of Central Command rotated next to an emergency ticker.

"This urgent report just in. The main Repository in Sector Delta has been sabotaged. Several hundred early-dev Seedlings have been abducted. Three Caretakers are dead, one in critical condition. The suspect is Mr. Sanvaris Neto, the Head Caretaker of the Seedling Corps."

The footage cut to security cam feed. A frightened Caretaker team scrambled away from an armed man--Neto--his pistol kicking in his hand, blood smeared across sterile white floor tiles. Neto held an embryo containment case in one arm. Once his rounds were spent, he fled off-camera with the Seedlings. The anchor returned. "Neto is still at large. All citizens are advised to be cautious until further notice."

Finlo's jaw pressed firm. Neto, don't tell me you're losing it too. I need you, buddy.

As soon as the broadcast ended, the inevitable Enforcers' alert from CenComm streamed into Finlo's mind. A flare of thought-send jolted him through his wetwired interface to the Share. Perfect timing. So much for peace and quiet.

"What the--" Jess groaned and woke, roused by the insistent signal. "CenComm's calling us to duty."

He spoke flat and hauled himself to his feet. "Yep. Like you said, there's a lot of shit going down. Suit up, Enforcer."

They donned their uniforms and leap-glider packs and hurried out the door. Once outside, the slender nano-composite tubes and wings of their gliders spread in wide fans around them. Finlo pushed one modified boot heel into the ground, and the built-in cold thrusters hummed in readiness. With a single jump and the spread of their arms, he and Jess soared into Melpomene's three kilometer high expanse, the only 'sky' many of the wretches aboard this so-called greatship would ever see.

***

03:20

Seedling Repository A

Research Sector Delta

Multi-rotor security drones drifted by as Finlo and Jess crossed the Repository foyer and rode the lift up to the crime scene. This wouldn't be a pretty sight.

Panicked voices spilled out of the tall doors ahead. Finlo and Jess entered the vaulted Seedling bank chamber, its curved silver walls lined with thousands of cylindrical storage pods. Within these slender micro-capsules unborn colonists waited for their chance to establish humanity.

Genetic variety relied upon the Seedling passengers. To steal or harm them was a capital offense. Neto was now Public Enemy Number One. Finlo anticipated a good hunt tonight, it kept his reflexes strong and his senses sharp. He just wished it wasn't his friend of two centuries on the wrong side of things.

The Enforcer team waited near the center of the room, a tight huddle of twenty silver-suited officers, their shoulders low and faces grim. Two Caretakers lay dead. Beneath a mural of bloody hand prints and long streaks of gore on the rear wall, the only surviving Caretaker drew gurgled breath. A medical team fussed around him, their coveralls shameless white beside the victim's crimson-stained lab coat.

Jess paled. "Good God."

Finlo glanced at her. He didn't believe in a 'good god'. Centuries of seeing this kind of brutality had long since pummeled the notion from him. "You okay, kid?".

"Yeah."

Such carnage, rare as it was, always disturbed Jess. More than once she'd cried on his shoulder at night. He always let her fall apart in his arms when she needed to.

He patted her back. "You've got this. Come on."

Finlo waved a hand to beckon the team closer. His steeled expression silenced all chatter. "Listen up. We have two objectives. Priority: retrieve the Seedlings unharmed. Second: apprehend Neto as clean as possible and bring him in. Under the radar. Do not engage any citizens. Are we clear?"

His Enforcers saluted and shouted. "Yes, sir!"

At the bank chamber's entrance came a shrill hum of cold thrusters and the scrape of metal against tile. The prim tap of chromed feet heralded Sister entered. Her titanium-plated torso glistened as she strode toward them, almond optical sensors aglow in her chiseled robotic face.

Finlo stiffened. No one had seen Sister's robotic avatar in many years. Not since the High Councilor was assassinated in the Gamma Revolt a decade ago. He'd long assumed Melpomene had permanently retreated into the Share. This avatar was the guise Sister projected herself into for more direct interaction.

"Melpomene...I mean, Sister...it's a pleasure to see you," Finlo said. He bowed his head and stepped aside as she joined them.

The sharp lids of her opticals slitted. "This. This is what our society falls to. For all our efforts, we're still at the crossroads of perfection and barbarism. Find this degenerate Neto and bring him to me." Sister's unwavering gaze fell upon Finlo. "I hope you're all committed to the task."

Finlo bristled at the doubtful comment, but he accepted the mission. Minutes later, he and the team glided out of the Repository to apprehend a madman.

***

04:08

Commercial Sector Epsilon

Finlo's inherent guidance system, wetwired into his brain, led the Enforcers along a subtle trail of Neto's weakening signal. They split up to cover more territory and surround their target. Even in an enclosed environment like Melpomene, a person could disappear if they were clever or desperate enough. Neto was surely both. At any rate, quitting wasn't an option for Finlo. Once he started a mission he never looked back.

He and Jess stood before the entrance to the sub-levels, where city blocks gave way to honeycombed passages, cargo holds, and engineering outposts. If the populated levels were the greatship's face, the cavernous reaches below were her innards--grim, cramped, and easy to get lost in. The perfect place for a kidnapper and murderer to flee.

A swarm of tiny orb-shaped surveillance bots hovered around Jess. "It's faint, but I've got a trace this way." She glanced over her shoulder at Finlo.

He nodded to the portal. "Just like the gates of Hell. Guess it's fitting to chase the damned into their pit."

"Always the smart-ass." She grinned, snapped her visor down, and dashed into the corridor with the swirl of surveillance bots close behind her.

"And the old man struggles to keep up as usual." Finlo shook his head and sprinted after her.

The passage widened into a transport level where technicians and mechanics bustled around commercial vehicles. Jess scanned the signal again and pointed to a supply shaft. "He's gone lower. Damn. I don't know why I can't pinpoint him."

"If he's smart, he's likely deactivated his interface. That's what I'd do."

"Would you?" A strange expression stole over Jess' face. "Well, his bio-signature is registered in the Share, and that won't change. As long as he's alive, we'll find him." She waved a hand to her bots. "Seek target. Alert when location confirmed."

The small robots whizzed forward like rabid wasps and darted down the shaft. Neto was hard-pressed with every Enforcer on the ship at his heels. His sentence would be lighter if none of the Seedlings were harmed. If they were, Sister might dream up terrible punishment. The man who'd assassinated High Councillor Emanwe ten years ago had met Sister's wrath sure enough. Banished, expelled in a capsule with no rations, marooned to a slow and lonely death.

Finlo observed the miniscule blips on his tracker, the positions of his team. A pack of hounds baying for the prize.

They continued their descent. Only the maintenance robots and the constant hum of Melpomene's propulsion systems existed here. Finlo and Jess climbed down the rungs of a utility chute and reached the first of the four Bilge levels, the most inhospitable decks.

Jess surveyed the supply bay they entered, its riveted support pylons lit only by narrow strip bulbs. "The reading's stronger this way." She hesitated. "Wait...there it is! The bots have him. He's headed for the drop level. You don't think he'd actually try to launch?"

"That crazy bastard. What the hell's gotten into him?" Finlo blasted a thought-send over the Enforcer-channel. "Drop level, hangar 26R. Move it!"

The team rushed in as a unit, squads deployed at each of the hangar's entrances. Finlo and Jess entered with caution through a broad steel portal with four of their comrades in tow. Dozens of dropship pods lined the expansive bay, suspended over sealed launch shafts. The dropships were used only when Melpomene arrived at a destination planet, vessels to send the colonists and supplies to potential settlements. They hung in reverent silence, except for one at the far end. The unmistakable drone of warming engines marked Neto's location.

"He's trying to escape," Enforcer Shenck said. "Get him, now!"

Finlo raised a hand. "Wait. Neto's a friend of mine. Let me talk to him first."

Jess powered her pulse rifle and hefted it into position. "He's no friend, Fin. Not anymore. He's gone nuts like the other post-homs. We have to arrest him. Sister's orders."

"These are my orders, and you'll do as I say, Enforcer." His tone held no favor for her, even if she was to be the mother of his child. She was just another subordinate here.

"Yes. Sir." Jess shifted her stance and fell back with the others.

Odd glances passed between the Enforcers, and Jess nodded to Schenck. Schenck replied with a slow nod of his own, yet no one spoke. Some covert knowledge seemed to pass between them.

Finlo squared his posture, then turned his back to them. He approached Neto with caution, his pulse rifle brandished in case things went awry, but he kept the weapon lowered. As he drew near, he overheard Neto's erratic stammer.

The Head Caretaker was usually a conservative man, stiff and soft-spoken. Neto now fumbled about the activation console for the dropship before him, his hair damp and tousled, face flushed. He paid no attention to Finlo or the Enforcers. "All lost. Tainted. Don't worry, little ones, I'll save you. She won't have you, no, no. We all must die...death delivers us."

Finlo whistled. "Hey. Sanvaris. Over here. What are you up to, pal?"

Neto stumbled, nearly tripping over the Seedling containment case at his feet. He whipped a pistol out of his coat and held it aloft, though he didn't aim at anything. His wild eyes twitched, glossed over in delusion. Finlo had seen that bewildered expression before--on his post-hom comrades who had died or deteriorated the same way.

"Who? What? No...traitor. All of you have failed us! Doomed. She's watching. Can we get away, little ones? I'll protect you."

Finlo gulped, took a chance and walked closer. "Neto, it's Finlo. Remember? Calm down. I'm your friend. Just give me the Seedlings and put the gun down." His stomach dropped. Too late. Neto's bloodshot eyes, the incoherent babbling, the drool foaming at the side of the man's mouth--gone. PostHom had finally claimed the only sane First Gen besides himself. Even Sister had gone off the deep end.

"Finlo...yes." Neto relaxed. "Brother. They've fooled you, me, the last hope...everyone in this room has deceived us. These children...the only pure ones left. The others all ruined. Altered by the queen of lies. No poison or false life for these babies. I'll take them away. We can save them." He raised the gun again and waved it at Finlo. "Will you help, friend? Or are you also foe?"

Finlo's heart pounded, and he readied his pulse rifle for defense. "What do you mean the Seedlings have been altered?"

"She...she will rule all of us. No death, but only at her whim." Neto trembled. "Escape. We can hide and call to the settlers on Hevarus 5. They're the closest, they'll come. Save us." He entered a code into the console, and the dropship's boarding ramp extended with the hiss of compressing oxygen. Neto gestured to the entry port. "Come, Brother..."

"Are you saying Sister has altered our Seedlings with PostHom?"

Neto's licked his lips and nodded. "The files...I looked and searched and found them after the Conclave. Clever bitch to hide her schemes. All the lies. She watches, hears. She..."

"Shit." Finlo shouted to the Enforcer team. "It's sabotage! Alert CenComm at once. Sister's violated the--"

An alarm blared, and all the lights in the hangar dimmed to emergency red. A thought-send from Sister shrieked over the Enforcer-channel.

"Enforcers, Operation Transcend now. Arrest both of the First Gens."

The team poured into the hangar from all side doors and surrounded Finlo and Neto. Enforcer Shenck, Finlo's second in command, barked over the deafening sirens. "Drop your guns! On the ground, now!"

Finlo swung his pulse rifle toward Schenck. "You fucking turncoats! What's going on?"

The last person he suspected served the answer. Jess fired and struck Finlo in the chest with a sedation bolt. The burning certainty of her betrayal tore through his skin and singed his mind with a sorrow greater than any he'd known in two hundred years.

Finlo fell to his hands and knees. Sweat dripped from his face. His consciousness wavered into echoed haze as the sedative worked into his system.

"Jess...why?"

She stepped toward him, face like stone, and knelt beside him. Her whisper fragmented through wavering perception. "Remember what I told you--trust me, no matter what."

"You won't have them. Stay away!" Neto shouted. He crouched over the Seedling container, gun aloft.

Schenck fired another sedation bolt at the Head Caretaker.

Neto sank to his knees and laughed. "Evil to feed evil. I'm free." Swift, precise, Neto placed the pistol in his mouth. His finger jerked once at the trigger. The resounding crack sprayed a pink mist of brain and skull.

Darkness choked the world. Death a-knocking. Finlo considered opening that grim door to welcome the persistent specter and follow Neto into Hell. But all he saw was Jess--the two-faced slut--and his rage smoldered into inevitable torpor.

***

Day 88, 14:38

Executive Sector Alpha

The Spire Of Melpomene

Incarcerated and framed by the very society he'd worked so long to uphold. What a fucking joke. Finlo's prison was a palace, a swanky penthouse at the very top of Sister's executive Spire converted to a jail cell. Ought to be the high life in any other circumstance, but Finlo wanted none of it.

He paced circles across the black marble floor, wearing only a heated robe sashed with silk. A snifter of top shelf brandy in one hand, he quaffed the entire thing and poured another. He could send for more any time he wanted it. Same went for gourmet food. And, of course, an endless supply of PostHom, which Sister provided without question--injectors filigreed in pure silver and delivered on ornamental platters by the security drones. If the Queen Bitch meant to bribe him with luxury, she was sorely mistaken.

What the fuck does Sister want from me? I should be dead like Neto.

He watched aerials of sky traffic stream by through the elongated windows. Thin scratches and dings scarred the reinforced glass, where he'd thrown several pieces of furniture in futile attempts to shatter it.

The telescreen above the scrolled ebony mantle was his last connection to society. The same anchorwoman who'd announced Neto's Seedling abduction now chattered about the greatship's recent tragedies...all lies.

"The loss of our last altered First Gens, Head Caretaker Neto and Chief Enforcer Grady, reminds us how fleeting mortal life is. As we mourn our brothers, let's welcome the future. Sister promises PostHom for everyone. No more death. We'll all live to see endless worlds, and Sister will lead us into a new stage of evolution."

Finlo swore and hurled his drink against the wall. Glass splintered across the flawless tiles. Collapsing onto a cushioned divan, he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath. His wetwired interface was deactivated. Sister didn't want him contacting anyone. No, he was under the lawn to everyone but those who'd betrayed him, and all the conniving fuckers he'd once considered loyal upheld the conspiracy of his 'death'. According to the news, Neto had shot and killed Finlo before committing suicide. The Enforcers had then brought Finlo into secret custody, and Sister erased him from society. He'd woken from sedation and entered a living Hell. And there was no escape in sight.

The armored doors of the suite opened, and a woman entered with three security drones at her side. None other than Jess, of all disappointments, a sleek form-fitting robe draped over her exposed shoulders. He hadn't seen her since she'd fucked him over. His fists clenched at his sides.

"Still chasing me even after I'm dead?"

Jess winced. "Fin. I know this seems terrible, but it's not. If only you knew how wonderful things will be for--"

"Wonderful for who?" His fury boiled over. "If there's any decency left in you, keep your part of the fucking deal. Right now. Everything. Spill it."

The bulky drones stepped between them, as if to shield Jess. She waved them aside and approached Finlo, her eyes downcast. She sat on the divan and beckoned him to join her.

He remained standing.

"Sister has been planning this for some time." Jess said.

"Obviously," he spat. "And you and the team were in on her little coup the whole time. Neto and I, the stubborn post-homs, were just in her way. And you planned behind my back, conspired everything, overthrew us so that Sister can rule over a new society of immortal beings. Right? Don't lie to me anymore." His face burned, body shook.

Jess folded her hands in her lap. "Yes."

Tears never fell, but his eyes misted over with them. "You asked me to trust you. But you've never trusted me. It goes both ways, kid. That's what a friend is. And a lover. That's the very core of what being human is all about. If you don't get it, and no one else does, we're fucking dead already. We've sailed out into the abyss of space to spread our toxic little Seeds across the universe. For what? We've lost our souls before we've even completed the mission. Get out." For the first time in two centuries, a tear fled down his face. He wiped it on his sleeve and sprawled onto the divan.

Jess knelt on the floor before him, slowly placed a hand on his leg. "I did this because I want to have a family with you. All the times we've spent together, I've fallen in love with you. Sister...approached me and told me of a new type of PostHom she'd discovered. A substance which allows those who never die to still have children. She replaced your usual doses with the new substance without your knowledge of it. And it worked. Our child is healthy, according to the doctors, and is showing remarkable signs of the PostHom's effects with no drawbacks."

Finlo snapped again. "What the...fuck. Does it get any lower? You seduced me for a random experiment and then pretended you were in love with me. Just to conceive a new mutation of after-human for Melpomene." He laughed to cover a sob.

"We'll be together forever, Fin, You, me, our baby. More, if we want them. What difference does it make if we rely on PostHom to have this dream come true?"

"It's not a dream. Being post-hom's a nightmare for too many reasons. I've said this from the very start. No one listens. I thought the post-homs were mad. It's the so-called unaltered who are truly insane. And you're the worst of them. Just go. Leave and don't come back.."

The security drones stepped into file at the door, and a shrill noise sounded in the outer corridor.

Jess sprang to her feet. "Sister's coming."

Finlo expected the robotic avatar or one of the more compact drone vessels Sister sometimes possessed. Nothing prepared him for the monstrosity that drifted into the suite. The needling hum of levitation generators rattled his skull. Suspended in the anti-grav field was a bio-suit straight out of the Hell he now existed in. Insulated layers of shiny black nano-weave encased a body--what could only be called a corpse--a shriveled, ash-gray face, mouth drooping, clouded eyes unfocused behind a pane of transparent polymers. Tubes and stringy bio-circuitry webbed around the once-woman's head, connecting her to the delicate processing structures visible around the inside of her cylindrical helmet. The pale green liquid she floated in within the suit was unmistakably PostHom.

Finlo spoke on a ragged breath. "Sister..." It wasn't an avatar. This was the woman herself, the ascended embodiment of the Muse of Tragedy, free and independent of the suspension vat she was supposed to occupy. The Nine Sisters project had never intended such a feat. He stumbled from the divan and pressed his back to the wall.

"Finlo Grady, once my Chief Enforcer. I'm saddened by your betrayal." Sister's ghastly lips never moved, but her voice emanated from a replicator attached to the helmet's brim. "It's been a long time since you've beheld my face, has it not? What do you think of my accomplishments now?"

Revulsion and anger bittered his tone. "You're a monster. The worst example of what this treacherous shit does to us. You want to talk betrayal? Even you and I were friends once. Remember launch day? All us post-homs swore the same oath then. To protect. To give of ourselves, but to never let others lose what matters. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately? You're dead, you misguided bitch. Rotting inside and out and hooked on the ruin of humanity. If the other Sisters could see you...they'd order you to Hell with Neto and the rest of us."

Sister's laughter sounded very much alive. "I see. You're the most successful of my subjects, it's true. If I didn't need your contributions, I'd release you from this Hell you so often refer to. Unfortunately, despite your contentious and unethical behavior, I need you for the next phase of the research." One of her arms jerked up and pointed at Jess. "Collect him as you've been ordered. I'll return for the specimen shortly."

Jess bowed at the waist, though she was pale as the sheer gown she wore. "O-of course, Sister."

Sister slowly rotated in air and glided toward the door. She issued a command to the drones as she she left the room. "Subdue him if you must."

The drones responded in unison, programmed voices deceptively pleasant. "Affirmative." They trudged forward, actuators buzzing with each heavy step, and gathered around Jess. Their optical strips glowed green and ready for any further instructions.

When Sister was gone, Jess turned to Finlo. Her glossy black hair fringed around her cheekbones, brow creased with rigid lines to mar the soft illusion of her innocence. She walked toward Finlo, serene, affected grace in every step.

He moved away from her, from the drones. Bile stung his throat. "'Collect me'...what's Sister got you into now?"

Jess stared at him with eyes that seemed too large for her fragile face. "I'm sorry for this. If you cooperate, it'll be just like always. We can enjoy ourselves. And in return we'll always have each other, and Sister gets what she needs out of it all."

"I don't understand." He retreated to the window, a corner of glass where two panes met in a sharp conjunction. They were a kilometer above the metro-level. Far below, the citizens rushed about their daily responsibilities with no suspicion he was alive, no care to his well-being. After all he'd done for them. And then came Jess, sidling toward him, the ultimate treachery, the woman he might have loved otherwise. She and the drones surrounded him while the greatship carried on its nonchalant routines.

The light, clean scent of Jess' perfume cloyed his senses. Her slender fingers slid along his chest, then locked around his shoulders. She leaned against him, tilted her head, lips parted for a kiss. "I want you," she said. "Nothing's changed that."

He shoved away from her, but the drones seized his arms, pinched his wrists in their vise-like effectors and pinned him against the window's cold, unforgiving surface. He struggled against them, but it was no use.

"You always say you want me. For what? I've held you when you cried, fucked your brains out when you asked for it, never let you down. I've tried to be a boss and a brother and a lover and a friend to you. Why, because I care for you. Not once have you returned that. I never asked for your love or devotion. But--"

She untied the sash of his robe and pushed it aside, exposing him, jarring him to the stark realization of what she really wanted. "Sister's right. You really don't understand, no matter how much I've tried to help you see the beauty of it. You're selfish, proud, everything you say you try to protect the children from--you are. Perhaps it is the PostHom that's muddled your head like the others. It's no matter. You want to know what I want, Fin? I want to live. I want to see our brothers and sisters experience everything possible. I want what you have. Death is unnecessary, a part of our past. You and I can help create a new kind of life. A new existence for our people. If you won't join me in this, I have to take it."

"No." He thrashed again, and the drones clamped his legs still along with his arms. "Don't touch me. I won't give you shit. You fucking bitches. You and that lifeless husk you bow to---"

Jess waved a command to the drones. "Please keep him quiet. I can't do this while he rants like a maniac."

One of the drones complied with a swift clamp over Finlo's mouth, silencing him.

He tried to shout, scream, tossed his head. To no avail.

Jess unfastened her gown, and it fell away. Nude and breathtaking as she'd always been, yet Finlo shrank from her. His pulse thundered in his ears, could scarcely breathe. Jess' cool, slender hands stroked him, caressing him as she had so many times before. Her touch used to bring him to the edge almost instantly. Now a sickening blend of loathing and terror overwhelmed his lust.

Won't give in. No way. Fucking cunts. How dare they?

After several minutes of sucking and rubbing and sliding her flesh along his unresponsive body, Jess clucked her tongue as if he were a misbehaving child. "I guess we have to do it the hard way after all. You really are the most stubborn man I've ever met. A shame. I've always admired your tenacity. But how easily it fails when you're most needed."

She reached into the folds of the gown at her feet and pulled out a seed harvester--a specialized device used when men wished to donate their semen to the Repository. The going joke had always been that harvesters were only needed when someone couldn't rise to the task. The joke was on him now.

His muscles strained against the drones' grasp. Jess slipped the harvester into place and activated it. A potency concoction of hormones and stimulants invaded his groin via the micro-injectors embedded in the device. His own body betrayed him, the most horrifying slight of all. Raped by a fucking steel tube and a vial of erectile dysfunction juice. The brief pleasure of release was no more than a convulsion. A slap to his dignity. The last sane after-human was nothing more than Sister's mute stud animal.

At least it ended quickly. Jess removed the harvester and sealed it off when she'd gathered all she could from him. The drones still restrained him as she slipped her gown on and put the harvester back in her billowed sleeve. Her smile angled to one side, more a smirk.

"There. Wasn't so bad, was it?" She ran a finger down the side of his tensed face. "Next time I hope we won't have to use that horrid thing. It's so much more fun the old way. At least our child didn't have to be forced like that. Maybe you'll learn to be a little more generous when Sister asks you for something important. I did a long time ago. And now I'm Chief Enforcer because of my hard work. Cooperating with our allies will get you much farther in this new world than being an old-fashioned stick in the mud, Fin. Take my advice and don't fight Sister. Everything you've ever desired will fall into your lap if you just reconsider your self-centered ways." She kissed his sweating forehead. "I'll see you next time, old man. Do think about everything I've said. I still want you. Despite everything, you are the best I've ever had. And that's worth more than immortality to me."

She walked out the door, and the drones followed her. The heavy thump of their footsteps retreated to silence, and the doors slid closed, imprisoning Finlo once again. Alone. Battered. A ravaged heap of nothing. He curled into fetal position, hugged his knees and shivered, though the suite's optimized thermo-settings always kept it balmy as a summer back on Earth.

Home. Two hundred years, more lifetimes ago than any true human should ever remember. He hated himself then for ever thinking he'd be up to the task of living forever. For thinking himself stronger than he was. For continuing this sham of existence, fooling himself to the notion that it was all for the benefit of helping the young ones remember. He'd been wrong. There was no hope left, and he wasn't the hero to save it. He was just a man, the same boy he'd been when he left that home that no one remembered anymore. That no one even cared for anymore.

He laid on the floor until sim-night fell outside. The myriad lights of the surrounding towers and scrapers sparkled, false stars in a false universe. Nothing mattered. Time passed in a worthless daze, enough hours passing until withdrawal crept upon him once again. A faithful yet unwelcome guest. The growing pain gnawed, pleaded, coiled its tentacles into every fiber of his being. His heart flailed. Laughter tittered. His own? Someone's? Perhaps Sister still taunted him from some back-channel in his broken interface. Perhaps, once and for all, PostHom's madness had come for him too.

Knock, knock, who's there?

Death.

Death who?

Death the Deliverer. The leveler of kings and gods. The respite for those weary of life's suffering. Open the door. I shall take you to the home only you remember...

Only minutes left. The door creaked open. The maelstrom of his long, perplexing life clamored into his mind. Voices. Music. Colors waltzed into blurred imagery that every now and then coalesced into something meaningful. Out of the convolution rose a new voice. Clear, undeniable, and he cried out from pain and the grief of repressed memory.

"Finlo..."

"Dad?"

His voice, the high and unburdened timbre of a small boy. His father beside him, their bare feet dangled in the stream along with their fishing lines. Years before the Nine Sisters, the meteor, the Virus that destroyed Earth as they knew it. The good years when everything was joy.

His lure bobbed, line tugged. He reeled in a big one. A nine pound trout. The biggest he'd ever caught!

"Nice one, son! That's one worth saving. Put it in the tub."

Finlo obeyed, cut the trout loose and dropped it into the pail beside him. No sooner had he done so than the fish flopped its way out, hook still dangling, and darted to freedom back in the water.

"Well, there you go, that old fish knew a thing or two about life after all," Dad said.

"What do you mean?" Finlo asked.

Dad patted Finlo's slumped shoulder. "When you're at the end of the line, and thrown out of the water, when you're trying to swim and can't get anywhere, you remember where you came from, and you get right back there no matter what. You only fail when you stop fighting for it."

Another wrack of pain hurled him back to Melpomene, the moment, the suite at the top of the Spire. Feed it...life...not yet!

He slammed the door in Death's skeletal face and crawled toward the nearby table, gasping and shaking. The tray of PostHom waited for him there, so pretty an array left for him by Sister. Couldn't let her win. Couldn't give up. Not who he was. This was war, and he wasn't about to belly over and let a deluded tyrant destroy his unborn child.

His child...even if the mother was the biggest bitch beside Sister, he had to live. Had to try. He was the only father it had. And he owed it to the little thing to teach it right, to be there in a crumbling society where no one else cared.

He reached for an injector and placed it at his wrist, set the poison of self-appointed gods and madmen back into his insatiable body. Let Sister believe she'd conquered him, humbled him into what she wanted. He could pretend, could play the game for his child's sake. When they reached the next destination planet, Entrepid-5RS, within the next two decades, he'd find a way to escape. To get to one of the more civilized colonies and seek a peaceful and traditional life. Sister would pay eventually for her crimes and deceit.

He'd bide his time, play along, keep his motives hidden, no matter how long it took. Time was but a trifle after all.