Free On My Way to Paradise by David Farland Page B

disconnected. Inside the shuttle was a bank access. I used it
to transfer Arish’s money to my account. Then I checked the
shuttle’s computer terminal to see if any starships were willing to
sign on a pharmacologist. None were. I checked to see if anyone in
another star system was willing to pay my fare from their end.
Someone from the Delta Pagonis system badly wanted a morphogenic
pharmacologist, was willing to pay fare to a planet called Baker.
The ship, a Greek ship called the Chaeron, would depart only five
hours after I reached the station, and this seemed a great stroke
of luck. I began laughing and keyed in visual for Baker: it was a
small planet, newly terraformed, population 174,000—not enough
people to support a morphogenic pharmacologist. They’d be lucky to
get someone. Lucky to get me. The pictures showed white beaches and
palm trees, like Panamá. In the background was one single white
mountain, like a huge pillar of salt, and behind it were jagged
purple mountains. It looked like a place where I could possess
myself in peace. A great hope filled me. I was glad to be leaving,
leaving the murderous Nicita Idealist Socialists with their plans
to destroy all competing societies and reengineer mankind, leaving
the sound of bombs dropping in the jungles south of my home,
leaving the AIs with their political intrigues, leaving my dead
friend. I had no plans for escape. Just the hope of escape. Escape
or death. It seemed enough. I told Tamara all about Baker, made up
wild stories about how beautiful it would be, and how happy we
would be, until my throat went hoarse and my voice sounded like the
croaking of a frog.
    I lay down. My muscles were cramping again, and
little pinpoints of light flashed behind my eyes. Sometime during
the trip I dozed lightly, and unbidden I dreamed that the day had
been warm and happy, and that after selling a rejuvenation in the
feria, I walked to where Flaco and Tamara built sand castles on an
empty beach. I stood and smiled at them for a long time, not
knowing why I was grinning, then began to walk past them.
    "¡Hola! Angelo, where are you going?" Flaco
called.
    "I’m on my way to paradise," I said.
    Flaco said, "Hah! Good place! I have a cousin who
lives there." Tamara and Flaco smiled at me as I walked past them.
I looked up the beach. In the distance was only empty sand, and I
knew my legs would tire long before I made it. Above me, sea gulls
hung motionless in the air. I stretched out my arms and crouched,
wondering if the wind could lift me and make me fly like a bird. My
arms sprouted tiny ugly feathers, and I began to rise. I held my
arms steady and floated slowly up into the sky.
    Flaco yelled to Tamara, "Watch out, or that big sea
gull will crap on you!" I looked down. Flaco was pointing up at me,
laughing. I beckoned for Tamara to come with me, and strained down
to reach her. She just turned away.
    Flaco pulled a red ball from one pant pocket and a
kitten from the other. And as I rose in the air, Flaco and Tamara
ran along, playing ball with a gray and white kitten on an empty
beach beneath a purple sun that never set.

Chapter 5

    The shuttle’s door ground against the metal of the
airlock, waking me, and the soft rumble of the shuttle’s rockets
died. Metal in the rocket engines wailed momentarily as it cooled
from a near molten state to far below freezing. I waited. Arish had
been dead five hours—plenty of time for his body to have cooled.
Plenty of time for his death to have been discovered.
    Anyone who checked his body would notice the eye
missing, would know why I’d taken it. I cursed myself for not
having mutilated Arish so the eye wouldn’t be missed. I feared that
when I opened the shuttle door I’d meet Arish’s protégé or, even
worse, security forces that would drag me back to Panamá. I kept
the shuttle locked, waited to see if anyone would demand
entrance.
    Tamara lay in the chest, staring at the ceiling,
blinking. The antimosin I’d injected was