Scientist: An Earth 340K Standalone Novel (Soldier X Book 1) Read online

  “You still love her.”

  “I see a blind man, and a man without arms. I see darkness and despair,” Wenqi finished in a whisper.

  Any spot of positivity and cheer left Hazou’s being. He bowed his head, slumped against the wall, and squeezed his fists. Stay positive, he told himself. You’ve beaten odds before. You left this place and became a principal scientist working on projects sponsored by the People’s Favor herself. Everyone doubted you back then. You can do it.

  “I never liked Dang Mao,” said Hazou. “Mom and dad liked you, you know. But Nuan was enamored by the young man from the Politburo who showered her with gifts and told her about how he’d met the People’s Favor. He always excelled at self-promotion.”

  Wenqi hysterical laugh cut off abruptly. “Really? I thought it was your parents who forced her to marry Dang. She chose him willingly?”

  Hazou nodded. “She was young, Wenqi. She hardly met any other boys. My parents tried to guide her…but when you tell a child something, it makes them more determined to do the opposite.”

  “Did it look bad?” Hazou asked.

  “You know one of the reasons I left Urumqi was because I couldn’t stand the pain of seeing her with another man.” Wenqi barked out a laugh and Hazou felt spittle on his arms. “She chose him? Maybe I’ve never stood a chance.”

  “Did it look bad?” Hazou repeated.

  “Her left eye was entirely blackened. She tried to use makeup around it to hide it. But I could see. She couldn’t hide the bruises on her forearms. And when she walked she kept wincing.” Wenqi’s voice had gone very soft.

  “Dang Mao will kill her if she stays with him,” said Hazou. The premonition so strong all the hairs on his forearm stood on end.

  “What, a blind man and a cripple are going to rescue her?”

  Wenqi’s words hit Hazou like slaps from a securibots’ hands. The defeatist words acted like poison and turned whatever remaining slivers of positivity into dark thorns of rage.

  “We’re both useless. We should just kill ourselves,” finished Wenqi.

  “No!” roared Hazou, he walked toward Wenqi and thumped his foot on the ground. “No! Stop your negativity. It’s poisoning us. I’m the one who’s blind!” He pushed out and caught something soft. Wenqi’s face?

  Hazou grunted as he felt Wenqi’s head slam into his stomach. He fell down with his hands wrapped around Wenqi’s neck. They wrestled, rolling on the ground until finally Wenqi snaked his legs around Hazou’s waist. Hazou pummeled at him with his hands but Wenqi wrapped him tight. Hazou bucked his hips to throw Wenqi off, but his friend’s leg scissored between his legs and clamped tight. The strong salty and earthy smell of Wenqi filled his nose.

  Hazou felt a trickle of warmth infuse the tip of his penis and jerked in shock at the tightness in his pants. Anger consumed him. He flailed. Wenqi pushed off and for a moment, Hazou felt his friend’s erection too. Hazou’s fist connected with Wenqi’s jaw.

  “Get away!” Hazou shouted.

  They both parted rather abruptly and Hazou was glad he didn’t have eyes to see. He turned away to hide the bulge in his pants. Anger and confusion warred within. Anger won.

  “You started it,” Hazou said, shoving off, pushing himself to his feet, and then resting against the wall. He could sense his friend struggle to stand. Wenqi’s shuffling gait faded.

  “Wenqi, wait. We’ve got to get out of this. We’ve got to try.”

  “I’m not sure if I can,” replied his friend.

  “We can. Imagine it’s like the Chao-chao project all over again. That was a fresh start and we still did the impossible.” Hazou felt in his pocket and held out the Chao-chao sapling he’d stolen from Lab 06 just the other day. Wenqi’s shuffling gait stopped and he could feel his friend’s eyes turn on the sapling.

  “Don’t be a fool. That was ten years of our lives in our prime. We’re forty years old. Do you think we can last ten weeks here?” said Wenqi.

  Hazou kept his hand out. He wanted his friend to see the live sapling.

  “You shouldn’t have taken it. Where did you get it from?”

  “In the lab, directly inside the crater in the middle, under the floor.”

  “What if they find out?”

  “They won’t.”

  “It’s the death penalty for stealing from the government.”

  “Was,” said Hazou. “Not under the laws of the People’s Favor.” He inhaled sharply through his nostrils. “Are you going to be a part of the solution or the problem?” He hoped his friend would be on his side. His friend’s spirits had sunk the lowest he’d ever seen.

  “What now, then?” Wenqi asked, shuffling closer.

  Hazou reached out a trembling hand and pressed it against Wenqi’s shoulder. “Let’s go to the night market and buy some seeds. But first let’s do our best to clean the urban farm.”

  Hazou felt his friend nod. Wenqi said, “Okay, we can do that.”

  Wenqi kept silent. Hazou could feel that his friend thought of something. So he waited until he spoke again.

  Wenqi said, “You know, I think we can give that old man and old woman a place in the kitchen downstairs. They cook and sell food outside. We could give them a place inside, rent-free, in return they help us clean the house.”

  Hazou clicked his fingers. “Mostly rent-free. We’ll take a small percentage of their sales. We still need upkeep for this place. We aren’t earning any money,” Hazou added. Small flecks of positivity filled his internal vision.

  “Yes, good idea.”

  “You know cleaning this inn is going to take time. I think we should go downstairs and reintroduce ourselves. I wasn’t that polite to them the first time around.”

  Hazou tilted his head. “That, dear friend. That’s what I call good thinking.”

  Chapter 11 - Night Market

  The Urumqi night market lay toward the inner south of Urumqi city. Underneath the layers of air-roads, multi-level bridges and interconnecting passages, the night market bustled with life. Hanzi characters hovered in the air over a massive holo-banner advertising ‘Running Girl,’ a deadly game show that whoever won would score a ticket to be one of the first passengers aboard the Shenzhou, the seed-ship of the China People’s Empire.

  At one of the four entrances to the market, a strip club 'Peoples Phallus' showed two stickmen jousting against one another with their thrusting penises.

  An auto-bus stopped right in front of an intersection that faced the night market. Its roaring turbines whined to a steady thrum as it landed and disgorged passengers.

  Wenqi led Hazou out of the bus. The smell of Xinjiang kebabs roasted over charcoal, duck spiced with Sichuan numbing peppers, and freshly baked nang bread filled the air. Wenqi’s stomach rumbled.

  “Lead on my friend,” said Hazou, happily clasping his hands on Wenqi’s shoulders.

  Children dodged between servbots carrying produce, dogs barked and scurried between them. Some of the stalls gleamed with Chinese characters flaring in the air and flickering off. Wenqi wondered why they did that until he realized that they probably didn’t have money to pay for constantly bright lights. Other stalls just had ancient LED lamps that gave off weak light. These Urumqi people are a hardy folk, Wenqi realized; they still survived even when the rest of the world forgot about them. Besides being a tax-gathering zip code, he wondered if the rulers in the Jade Palace even knew of the existence of Urumqi.

  Wenqi stopped next to a stall that basted roasted soy-goat skewers. But his eyes weren’t drawn to the meat. They had stumbled to a small clearing at the edge of the night market that looked up into the sky.

  Aero-cars disengaged from their docks high above, their trunks filled with night market goods. The cars flew into the Urumqi skyline. A longing pang burst inside of Wenqi as he stared at the distant skyscrapers. Professionals would be working late into the night. How he missed going to work. It had given him such a sense of purpose serving at the Department of Botanical Weapontech.

&n
bsp; As if reading his friend’s dark thoughts, Hazou said, “Remember, we’re here to get the seeds so we can try to start up the urban farm.” He added in a whisper, “And to see if we can revive the Chao-chao sapling. I know how hungry we are but we can’t do anything about that.”

  Wenqi laughed. His friend had read him right on both counts. Though he wasn’t big on eating meat, much preferring tofu skewers, those goat skewers did smell tasty.

  A kid elbowed Wenqi as he ducked between them running away from his sister who yelled at him to return her youtiao, Chinese doughnut.

  Hazou’s idea to start their own urban farm felt like two farmers dreaming of launching seed-ships into far-flung galaxies. The advertisement of ‘Running Girl’ kept playing in Wenqi’s head. Whoever entered that game show would be dead before they won a ticket aboard the seed-ship. Even if he and Hazou could grow the seeds, what then? We can’t think a week ahead, thought Wenqi. It’s a matter of daily survival now.

  “We’re almost at the cul-de-sac,” said Wenqi.

  Here, at the rear, tucked away from public, there were ample signs of people who suffered from air-tinge. Their faces half shadowed by long hoods. A person with one eye stared from behind a stall; another didn’t have any limbs and sat on a dirty cushion with a begging bowl.

  An old man paused beside them and opened his cloak revealing a shriveled body destroyed by land-tinge. He gestured at his emaciated cock. “Master, cheap for you. Only one cc-chip,” he rasped. He chewed on a fried spider revealing rotted gums empty of teeth.

  Wenqi jogged away, propelling them farther into the large cul-de-sac.

  “Hey, slow down.” Hazou gripped his friend’s sleeves tightly.

  “There’s so much riffraff here, are you sure this is the right place?” Wenqi slowed to a walk. Surrounded by the diseased and destitute he felt like such a failure. The two of them studied hard, had climbed out of Urumqi twenty years ago, and now to be back here and in this place, it was almost too much for Wenqi.

  Hazou squeezed Wenqi’s shoulder. “I can smell seeds.”

  A seed stall slumped against the wall that bordered the night-market. A grimy old lady with wispy strands that splayed over wizened eyes stared as they approached. She pulled out a hairpin with a rusted sharp end and slapped it against her palm.

  “Do you sell seeds?” Wenqi asked as they both stopped in front of the stall.

  “Yeah, can’t you read?” said the old lady, pointing above her at her stall’s faded sign. “This is the best seed shop in the entire night market.”

  Wenqi almost guffawed, but Hazou spoke earnestly. “Elder, do you have nonlicensed bok choy seeds?” He stood pressed against the stall his head tilted ever so slightly. His body language changed ever since his eyesight went. Now his neck turned at odd angles as if he were trying to catch sound.

  “I know you,” said the woman. “Aren’t you Juan’s son?”

  “Yes, Juan was my mother.” The pain in Hazou’s voice, evidence that he missed his mother.

  “Your mother went to the same high school as me. She married that good-for-nothing Bo Sai. I married Ding Mao and got the better of it. You’re their get right? Hazou, the eldest?”

  Hazou’s head jerked back in surprise and he nodded.

  “What happened to your eyes?” asked the woman.

  Wenqi disliked her. She stared at Hazou as if he were a rat sniffing at her seeds.

  “I was in an accident,” Hazou said.

  “And what about you, armless, how did you end up like that?”

  Wenqi’s nostrils flared. How dare this riffraff speak to him like that? Hazou gently touched his friend.

  “We were in the same accident,” Hazou said.

  “Where did it happen?”

  Wenqi jaw muscles clenched. He didn’t reply and when Hazou made to answer, Wenqi overrode him. “Do you have the seeds or not?”

  The woman hawked and spat a splatter of green mucus with yellow glowing spots. It settled on the toe section of Wenqi’s old boots.

  “You...!”

  Hazou’s hand grasped Wenqi’s shoulder. He whispered into his friend’s ear. “We need the seeds.” Even without his eyes, it was as if Hazou could tell what happened.

  Tired of being treated like a second-class citizen, Wenqi wanted nothing more than to head home. But he heard his voice say, “How much?”

  “Ten thousand for nonlicensed.”

  Hazou didn’t have to feign his surprise. “Ten thousand?”

  “We’re wasting our time,” said Wenqi, “let’s go.”

  The woman got angry as if they had insulted her and not the other way around. “Hey that’s fair price. This is nonlicensed. People braved the neuralnet inquisitors and died for these. It doesn’t query the license server and will grow unrestricted. Also, this is organic.”

  “What seed do you have for five hundred cc-chips?” asked Hazou.

  Wenqi opened his mouth to say something but his friend shook his head.

  The woman’s indignant expression became somewhat mollified.

  “You can get a licensed gai-lan seed. It’s a bit old. You will need a resuscitator or have good skills with seed reprogramming. Low-level languages. No guarantees.” She opened a box and held out a seed that looked like it was rescued from a campfire.

  “It’s all black, Hazou. Come let’s go, she’s just a charlatan.” Wenqi made to turn.

  “Don’t you come to Urumqi market with all your noses up in the air, stinking of High Beijing, and the attitude like you were a personal worker for the People’s Favor. You stupid armless, no hoping cripple. Get away then. Go, see if I care.”

  “Sorry, I apologize,” said Hazou. “My friend has been having a tough time recently. We will take the seed, elder.” Hazou firmly grasped Wenqi’s fingers. We need this, his grasp said.

  His blind friend felt for the cc-chips in his coat pocket and handed it to the elderly woman. She in return slapped a black synthplast bag against Hazou’s palm.

  “Just don’t try to sell it,” said the woman. “Otherwise you’ll be thrown into prison and killed.” She called out to them as they left. “Come back and buy another one if you don’t have the skills to reprogram it.”

  Wenqi trembled in anger as he led Hazou out of the night market. He just wanted to grab things and throw them. He wished desperately to have his hands back.

  “We just spent all Nuan’s money,” Wenqi said.

  Hazou’s left hand trembled against Wenqi’s shoulder. His right hand patted at his chest where the seed lay snug inside his breast pocket. “Well now you’ve met Dang Mao’s mother. Isn’t she lovely?”

  Wenqi stopped. “That’s Dang’s mother?”

  “Yes. They had a lot of family issues.”

  “She’s about as lovely as the son,” Wenqi said. By committing all their money, they now walked along the edge of a vibro-blade. No room to make any mistakes. He couldn’t help feel that they just made their biggest mistake since arriving to Urumqi.

  Chapter 12 - Xu-Tiger Serum

  Dang Mao stood in Lab 06 surrounded by four members of the Ten Divine Dragons: Itoku, the People’s Cultural Commissioner; Chaeyeon, the People’s General; Bopha, the People’s Caretaker; and Kaloni, the People’s Educator.

  The restored magmite roller door rumbled to a close, and the modified field-sphere flared to life around them like a huge bubble. They appeared as just blurred outlines to anybody outside—an extra level of paranoia considering he had already reprogrammed the cameras and their microphones.

  “You failed to kill the two scientists,” said Chaeyeon. She sported an ugly scar across her face and now her nose skewed itself to the left.

  Dang bowed his head acknowledging his failure and it irked him. “They were meant to be dead. It is a miracle they survived the explosion.”

  “And you failed to terminate the Chao-chao experiment. Our spies tell us that those two cripples may try to recreate the planet.”

  “Those cripples aren’t going to
do anything except kill themselves,” Dang said. “I’ve taken everything away from them.”

  “Yes, but that experiment is meant to be terminated. Completely. Otherwise Diaochan’s seed-ship stands a chance, and our promise to the Greatest Scientist is in jeopardy.” Chaeyeon shook her head. “I forced Diaochan’s hand by putting the fear of the Chrysanthemum Striped Tigers into her. You squandered a perfect opportunity.”

  “Just like you messed up the assassination,” said Bopha.

  “The Lord of Ten Thousands Suns is dead,” Dang hissed, letting the anger get to him. He stopped himself. These were not the quailing soft blubber that Nuan was made of.

  “Didn’t you sever them completely?” asked Kaloni. “I hear the two of them are in Urumqi and have their own urban farm.”

  “I did sever them. They had no money.”

  “Until your wife gave them some,” said Bopha.

  “Not on my authorization,” Dang said. “Nuan has been punished for her transgression.” He had taken the whip to her pale buttocks. She wouldn’t be sitting for a month.

  “Punish her again,” said Chaeyeon.

  Dang’s face reddened and he tried very hard to keep the anger in check. He imagined Chaeyeon and Nuan both with their backsides ripped bloody, him standing over them whipping furiously. He would like to see the fear in Chaeyeon’s eyes. By far, she was the most tyrannical of the Ten Divine Dragons. Even more so now after Diaochan had given her that livid scar that stretched diagonally across her perfect face.

  “Enough,” said Itoku. “We need to plan our move. Diaochan is getting too nosey and we don’t have much time left. We need to strike now.” He made a swiping motion with his hand. It was clear whose neck he expected to come tumbling down.

  “It is not enough,” said Chaeyeon. “Diaochan has put her triant on the trail. And she is hot behind you, Dang. And if you go, we go. And I will not allow that.” Chaeyeon stepped forward and placed her hand around his collarbone.

  Dang didn’t show any fear. Chaeyeon’s slitted eyes narrowed, and he felt the strength of her grip across his neck as she lifted from the floor effortlessly. “Do you take me for a fool? I see through your petty ambitions.”