The full body scan of Seurat indicated serious scarring in the brain, showing he could have suffered some brain damage after the injury.
She finished reading the scans and began to type up the report for the captain, leaving out very few details.
She finally put the knife in a locked cabinet. “The murder weapon is a chef’s knife, found floating among the bodies in the cloning bay. The knife likely belongs to Maria Arena. We don’t have fingerprint scanning equipment.”
Maria waited for Hiro to come help her with the new food printer, and decided to make tea in the meantime.
Deep inside one of the cupboards she found a red box she remembered stashing on that first day. She was gratified that it was still here after so many years. She pulled out the long, deep wooden box and then retrieved two smaller matching boxes. With the food printer, these boxes weren’t needed, but Maria liked to be prepared.
The first box contained an old-fashioned kettle. It wasn’t beautiful or artistic, or made of copper or ceramic. It was made of steel, with a chipped plastic handle, and it had been her grandmother’s. As old and outdated as it was, the thing still boiled water, and that was what was important. She placed it on the counter heating elements.
The flat box had hundreds of vacuum-packed two-ounce containers of tea. The tea would be very old, but it had been airtight, and besides, no one would be fussy about getting stale tea in the deep dark of space. She selected some intense green gunpowder pearls and got enough for a large pot.
The third box had honey, naturally. That didn’t go bad. It was a bit crystallized, but that wasn’t anything to worry about.
While the water heated, Maria got a shallow skillet to toast tea leaves in order to wake up the flavor a bit. After the room was full of a warm, earthy smell, she rescued the slightly toasted tea leaves and then fetched the teapot that she still used when the printer delivered its green tea. In the wars between science and tradition, even if a machine could make a perfect cup of tea, one still served it in a traditional teapot out of respect. Only this time, the teapot would be used properly.
She enjoyed preparing the tea and pointedly not thinking about their situation, their future, and their inevitable deaths.
“How is the food printer?” Katrina asked from the doorway.
Maria jumped slightly. She had been lost in thought. Katrina and Wolfgang stood there, looking like they were ready to start murdering people all over again.
Tea. Offering tea was nice and homey.
“The food printer is sabotaged, and Hiro is going to help me set up a new one. In the meantime, I’m making tea.”
Katrina reacted to the news about the food printer with grim acknowledgment. She sat at a table, and Wolfgang joined her. “Tea would be good.”
Some time passed in silence as Maria set out teacups.
Katrina studied the cup in front of her. It was red plastic. “Does it bother you? The loss of so much time?”
Maria turned as the kettle began to sing. “I don’t think I have had time to process it,” she said as she filled the teapot. “I’m confused, but too numb for anything else now.” She pushed the full pot at them. “Enjoy.”
They drank their tea until Hiro got there, and Maria stood to get him a cup. Oddly enough, Katrina and Wolfgang also stood awkwardly when he came in.
“Hello, Captain, Pilot Hiro reporting in!” he said, saluting.
Katrina gave him a cool look. “Mr. Sato? Care to tone it down?”
Hiro plopped into a chair and poured himself some tea. “I wanted to report that the navigational and grav engines are just fine. I still haven’t figured out what caused us to go offline, but at least that’s okay now. So we’re saved!”
“This is not a time to make jokes,” the captain said.
“Captain, with all due respect, if I don’t make jokes I will instead fall into the screaming panic that is lurking behind every metaphorical tree and bush in my psyche. Now, if you would prefer screaming panic, you say the word. I will mention that it is likely that my last incarnation gave in to said screaming panic, and look what happened to him.”
The captain stood. “This is only barely preferable.” She glanced at Maria. “Get something up and running as soon as possible. Hiro will help you. Thank you for the tea.”
“Hey, I just saved us, why am I on food duty?” Hiro asked her as the captain and Wolfgang left the kitchen.
“We need a hero like you on this problem,” Maria said. “I don’t know what I would do if I was left all by myself in here.”
“Such a treat, those two,” Hiro said, picking up their dirty cups.
“I think we’re all under some stress,” Maria said mildly. “Not everyone is going to go all Br’er Rabbit on you.”
He frowned. “Now you’re bringing up animals.”
“Sorry. Trickster from the American folklore. Did a lot of reverse psychology, banter and the like, to get out of bad situations. My aunt used to tell me stories about him.”
“I thought you were Cuban?”
Something in Maria’s memory felt fractured. Hiro was right. Her aunt spoke little English, so why did Maria think she had told younger Maria tales from American folklore?
“I guess I heard it from somewhere else,” she said. “You know how memories go when you’re as old as we are.”
“Do I ever,” he said, his face clouding. “Anyway, thanks for the tea. Let’s get to work.”
Joanna’s Story
211 Years Ago
October 8, 2282
Senator Jo Waide paced her Geneva office, pausing each time to look out the window at the horde. If she hadn’t been the target of the protests, it would have been interesting. Clones, humans, everyone had a different reason to protest the Codicil Summit. Some held signs that said CLONES ARE UNNATURAL IN THE EYES OF GOD, while others’ signs said KEEP YOUR LAWS OFF MY BODY.
Opposed in their views but united in their cause, none of them wanted the laws she was currently writing. The laws would legitimize clones as legal world citizens, which upset the humans, but would also rein in their freedoms, which upset the clones.
She remembered her mother, decades before, warning her against trying to please too many people at once. Mother had also said not to go into politics.
The most upsetting thing, however, was the news story open on her personal tablet: the clone riots had reached the Luna colony when an anti-cloning priest abruptly, suspiciously changed his tune.
The tab underneath the new story had the email with the inside information about what had really happened on the moon. Some clone extremists had hired a hacker to reprogram the priest in order to get him to speak out in favor of clones’ rights, but it had all gone very wrong. Apparently a clone showing up and suddenly discounting everything it had said in a previous life was a bit of a red flag.