Tree: Live to give, give to live (Numbered Book 3)

by Magus Tor

  “Jonathon and Elza should be joining us any time soon,” finished Aurelia.

  “Then we'll need to wait,” said Nicholas. “Not much else to do.”

  Tara had been silent, busy eating and listening, but now she spoke. “While we're waiting, I've got a question for Bryn.”

  “Shoot,” said the man.

  Tara pulled a container out of her pocket, and Aurelia heard rattling from inside and knew that it was the barb that had pierced her shoulder. “Any idea where this could have come from?” she asked, sliding the container over to Bryn.

  He picked it up and examined it through the jar, nodding slightly. “Expensive,” he said. “Likely it came in from one of the settlements Out. There's some there that work with metal that they've got from the mines or dug up themselves. Don't make these in the Empire anymore, 'cept for military use ones, and those are bigger, heavier. These ones are lighter and designed to be shot by something smaller. How did you get this?”

  Tara explained where the barb had come from and what she was trying to do. Aurelia caught Nicholas giving her a worried glance when he heard that she'd been injured, but he said nothing.

  “Hmm,” said Bryn, when Tara was finished. “Can't say exactly where it came from, though I'll ask around. I've got a couple of names I'll give you. Men who would sell this kind of thing. You're looking for the buyer, though, rather than the seller. And the only thing I can tell you about that is that whoever it is is going to have a fair amount of money to buy something like this.”

  “Thought so,” said Tara, accepting the container back and pocketing it.

  There was the sound of a commotion out in the tunnel, and Bryn was the first to leap up and open the door, but Aurelia was close behind him. In the dim yellow light of the tunnel lamps, she saw two sec Workers making their way down the corridor; and in the other direction, a handful of Connectors ran up to meet them, including the large man, who looked very angry indeed.

  “Not supposed to come down here, them,” said Bryn quietly. “Against our agreement.”

  But Aurelia was too busy watching the sec Workers. There was something familiar about them, something about the way they moved, something... Gods.

  “Wait!” she shouted to the Connectors. “They're not sec Workers!”

  Bryn stepped out into the tunnel, stared, and then nodded, holding up a hand. “She's right,” he called.

  The Connectors stopped, except for the large man, who continued until he reached Bryn. “What's going on?” he demanded.

  “That's Jonathon Hansen and, I presume, his assistant Elza. Not sec Workers,” Bryn said, gesturing at the two with his chin. “Probably best not to attack the future President.”

  “Could've done with some warning,” grumbled the large man, but he nodded. “I'll leave this to you then, Bryn.”

  He walked away, taking the other men in black with him, just as Jonathon and Elza broke into a run.

  Jonathon caught up with Aurelia and gave her a quick hug, before shaking hands with Bryn and then with Nicholas. “Come on, let's go in and sit; we don't have much time to explain,” he said.

  “We leave tonight,” said Jonathon, once they were all seated.

  Nicholas gasped. “Already?”

  “Already. We don't have time to waste, and I've got an agreement with a shuttle pilot. He's got a flight tonight, and if we don't take it, we'll have to wait another two days, which we obviously can't. So tonight it is.”

  “That's fast,” said Tara.

  “Too right,” said Jonathon, noticing his sister for the first time and giving her a smile. “But you're going even faster; you've got to get out of here now.”

  Tara pouted.

  “Look, the less you know, the better,” Jonathon told her. “That way if you get caught, you can't give away any information because you don't know any.”

  “He's right,” said Bryn. “Come on, I'll get one of the Connectors to take you back, and I'll com you those weapon seller names later.”

  Reluctantly, Tara stood. She gave all four of them quick hugs before going out with Bryn, who returned a few moments later.

  “So, you've got a plan to get us onto the shuttle?” asked Nicholas, business-like now that the shock of leaving had worn off.

  “We're not dressed like this for fun,” commented Elza, looking down at the green sec Worker uniform she was wearing.

  “We can't fly as ourselves, or even as Ruling Class,” explained Jonathon. “Too many questions. But the one group of people that can get onto shuttles without being questioned too much and, in fact, without having to make any kind of reservation, are guards and prisoners.”

  Ah, thought Aurelia. Here we go. “And I'm guessing that Nicholas and I are playing prisoners?”

  “Well, we're already wearing the uniforms,” said Jonathon, grinning. “Look, the plan is this: we get to the shuttle bay, you two are our prisoners, we get stopped by security before getting onto the shuttle. Then the pilot gives them permission to let us board, says it's a last-minute arrangement and the paperwork is through, and we're good to go. Simple. There should be no trace, and no one should connect me to any of this. There's only one problem.”

  “You've got to get into the shuttle bay without going through the initial gate,” said Bryn immediately. “You can't give any personal ID numbers to gain entry.”

  “Right,” said Jonathon. “We need to appear already inside the bay so that the real sec Workers assume we've already given our numbers and have been cleared to pass through. That's what I need from you, Bryn. Can you get us in?”

  The tall man sucked his teeth in thought, then nodded. “Happen I can find a way. Need to go talk to the boss first, though. Wait here.”

  He was back almost as soon as he'd gone. “What time does the shuttle leave?” he asked.

  “1900,” answered Jonathon.

  Bryn looked at the time reader on his wrist. “We'll need to go in the next half hour, then,” he said. “But you've got one more problem.”

  “What's that?” asked Elza.

  “These two,” he said, pointing at Nicholas and Aurelia, “look entirely too healthy to be prisoners, if you know what I mean.”

  For a second Aurelia didn't know what he meant, and then it dawned on her. If they were supposed to be prisoners, then chances were that they'd either been injured when captured, or more likely beaten up by sec Workers trying to get the truth out of them. If they weren't bleeding, then no one was going to believe their story.

  “Stand up, boy,” said Bryn to Nicholas.

  Nicholas got up quickly and went to stand by the wall, knowing what was about to come. He didn't close his eyes but stood, quite relaxed.

  “Much as you might have irritated me out on the surface with all your questions, I don't take pleasure in this,” said Bryn.

  But his hand was moving even as he spoke, and Aurelia cringed at the sound of flesh hitting flesh. She couldn't bear to watch and heard two more punches before Bryn grunted.

  “That's enough.”

  Nicholas was bleeding from the corner of his mouth, and the area around his right eye was already beginning to swell. He grinned anyway and held out his hand to Bryn. “No hard feelings. At least it was fast.”

  Aurelia's stomach felt heavy; she knew it was her turn. She was no coward, though. She stood, but Jonathon quickly pulled her back down to her seat.

  “Nope,” he said.

  “Yes,” she countered. “Bryn's right. He knows what he's doing; he won't hurt me too much.”

  Jonathon stared at her, then got up and without a word left the room. Aurelia went to stand where Nicholas had been. She allowed herself the luxury of closing her eyes.

  “Relax if you can,” Bryn said. “It'll hurt less.”

  She took a deep breath and willed her muscles to unclench. She was in the middle of another breath when the first hit connected, right on the side of her eye. It stung for a second, but again she breathed and attempted to relax. The next shot got her on
the top edge of her lip. That one hurt. The third and final one glanced off her temple.

  “Enough,” said Bryn.

  Aurelia turned and spit out a mouthful of blood, then, taking her cue from Nicholas, shook Bryn's hand.

  “Best go out to him,” Bryn told her, nodding at the door.

  When Jonathon saw her, he gasped. “Gods, Aurelia, I'm so sorry.”

  She shook her head. “Don't be,” she said. “It was necessary. If I'm in this with you, then I'm in it; you can't let your feelings for me interfere with the job we have to do.”

  He looked down at his feet. “I know you're right. But...”

  “No buts,” she said sternly. “I am right. Now come inside.”

  He followed her back into the room, where Elza was casually ripping Nicholas's uniform. “Your turn next,” she said to Aurelia.

  Once the two of them looked suitably ragged, Bryn nodded in approval. “You'll pass,” he said. “You two.” He pointed to Jonathon and Elza. “You can take one small bag each. The prisoners get nothing. So best decide what you need. I suggest you take spare uniforms for you all and some med basics, just in case.”

  “I've already handled it,” said Elza, picking up a bag and tossing it to Jonathon before getting the second and shouldering it herself.

  “We're ready, then,” said Bryn.

  The walk through the tunnels was predictably long and disorienting. It took a solid hour of twists and turns before Bryn stopped them, and Aurelia's feet were aching, not to mention her throbbing face. She had to give Bryn his due, though; as much as her face hurt, she felt no broken bones and no loose teeth. He'd done a good job of making her look worse than she was.

  “Right,” said Bryn. “In a minute, we're going to come to a trapdoor going up. Once we're up, we'll be inside an old air filtering duct, one left over from the building of the dome. The duct goes straight under the shuttle bay. We'll get into the basement of the bay that way. Once in the basement, there should be some kind of emergency stairway that can get you onto the bay floor, but you'll need to check for alarms. This is the best I can do.”

  He led them down the hall and waited whilst the others boosted each other up through the trapdoor before pulling himself up. The duct was dusty and low but wide enough to crawl in comfortably. After a few short minutes, Bryn stopped them again and pointed up to another door in the duct.

  “Good luck,” he whispered.

  He waited whilst they climbed out, then turned to leave them.

  Nicholas took the lead now, silencing everyone with a hand gesture. He scouted around the dark basement area until he found what he was looking for and beckoned them.

  “Stairs, but alarmed,” he whispered when they were close. “I can deal with it, though.”

  Rapidly his finger moved over a control panel next to the door. Clone training, Aurelia thought, knowing that the Military Class were trained in electronics. In seconds, the door was open, and Nicholas was leading them up. Two flights of stairs later, another door.

  “Alarmed again,” said Nicholas. “Once we're through here, we're in the bay.”

  Jonathon nodded. Nicholas worked his magic with the alarm and then turned his back to Jonathon, his arms behind him. Jonathon tied his hands, whilst Elza did the same to Aurelia. Aurelia felt her arm being grabbed just above the elbow.

  “Ready,” said Elza.

  “Let's do this,” responded Jonathon.

  Aurelia glanced at Nicholas and saw him smile at her, so she smiled back and then rearranged her features into what she hoped looked like an appearance of pain, desperation and hopelessness. Then the two sec Workers dragged their prisoners out into the large Lunar City shuttle bay.

  Chapter Four

  Aurelia felt like her heart was going to beat through her chest. She kept her eyes down, trying to look dejected, but could feel the looks that she was getting from the waiting shuttle passengers. She stumbled, and Jonathon tightened his grip, half dragging her along the white stone floor. Her face throbbed, and she was losing feeling in the arm that Jonathon was holding, but she fought off a desire to giggle. She knew the laughter came from panic, but the situation was ridiculous. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Elza pulling Nicholas along after her; he gave her a quick glance, and she saw the corner of his mouth turn up in an almost smile.

  Eyes down, she could see only the feet of other passengers, so she was unaware that they had reached the boarding doors until her legs were kicked out from beneath her and she collapsed on the floor. She didn't quite fall; Jonathon's hand gripping the waistband of her uniform controlled the action, so she sank down and lay, waiting for what was going to happen next.

  “We're to board this flight with the prisoners,” Elza's voice said. She sounded formal but disinterested.

  “Let me just check the paperwork,” came the smooth voice of a transport Worker.

  A few moments of silence.

  “There's no record here,” said the Worker's voice again.

  “Your inability to keep track of your own records is not my problem,” snapped Elza's voice. “My orders are to get these two onto the shuttle and down to Earth. Find out what's going on. Now.”

  “Just one moment, please.”

  The Worker sounded more deferential now, and Aurelia thanked Elza's natural authority. The floor was cool, and the chill of the stone leaked through her uniform as she lay, face pressed down, tasting the sourness of adrenaline in her mouth. She knew what was happening. The Worker was contacting the shuttle pilot to see if there had been a last-minute change to the passenger list. Presuming that the pilot was Jonathon's contact, there should be no problem. If, on the other hand, the pilot wasn't Jonathon's contact because the real pilot was late, or had been removed from the flight, or been caught, or any one of a million other reasons, then all four of them were about to get into some serious trouble. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she tried to time her breathing to her heartbeats, willing herself to keep control. It seemed like hours until the Worker spoke.

  “All clear. Sorry for the confusion.”

  Aurelia sighed with relief, a sound that when muffled against the floor ended up sounding like a stifled sob.

  “What'd they do?” asked the Worker's voice, curiously. Aurelia could hear his fingers tapping icons on a screen as he prepared to allow them on the shuttle.

  Jonathon grunted. “Secret marriage,” he said.

  Aurelia rolled her eyes, glad that he couldn't see her. Was that really the best that he could come up with?

  “Clone/human, eh?” said the Worker. Either Elza or Jonathon apparently nodded at this, since he continued, “Can't understand it myself. Disgusting practice.” There were a few more screen clicks, then: “I'm going to open the door and let you through; a sec Worker will meet you at the shuttle.”

  “Thank you,” said Elza stiffly.

  Aurelia braced herself as she felt Jonathon's hand at the top of her arm, and she pushed up as he pulled her so that he didn't dislocate her shoulder. Then she was being dragged through the loading gate and up the carpeted floor of the connecting tunnel that would take them to the shuttle. Despite being alone now, none of the four spoke, too paranoid about being overheard, or too realistic to think that they wouldn't be watched as they made their way up the corridor.

  She lifted her head as their footsteps slowed, looking around her. The shuttle door was open, and a dark-haired sec Worker was standing awaiting their arrival. An evil-looking scar cut through his right eyebrow, the skin raised in a welt. Shoddy med Worker that tended to that, thought Aurelia. The man's eyes surveyed the four of them coolly, and she waited for him to voice his suspicions at their being allowed on the craft so late, but eventually he just nodded and told them to follow him.

  She was familiar with the round decks of the shuttle now, and when they were led to the central column, she knew they were being taken to the stairwell. Two floors down and they were taken back out onto another deck. This floor was different from the pa
ssenger decks that Aurelia had seen before. There were no large plate glass windows, just small slits; and rather than a spiral arrangement of seats, there were single chairs placed around the walls, all facing the central column. Attached to the walls next to each seat were metal rings, one on either side. The scarred sec Worker pointed at the seats.

  “Get them situated. You want at least a seat between them, but close enough that one of you can keep an eye on both of them,” he said. There was little emotion in his voice. “Take-off will be thirty minutes from now. You all need to be strapped in before then.”

  He turned to go back to the central column.

  “You're not staying?” asked Elza.

  He turned back to look at her. “First time doing a prisoner flight? No. They're your responsibility, not mine. I'll come down from time to time to make sure you have everything that's needed. The stairwell doors will be locked, and the elevator has been programmed to disregard this floor. The deck is self-contained and secure.”

  Jonathon gave him a short nod. “Thank you.”

  “The com is on the wall in the column if you need it,” said the Worker, walking away from them as he spoke.

  When he left, Elza looked at Jonathon and was about to speak, but he glared at her.

  “Sec Worker, get your prisoner restrained,” he said, staring straight through her.

  The look on Elza's face said that she'd got the message. This was no place to speak. Presumably there were listening devices, and looking up and around as Jonathon dragged her to a seat, Aurelia spotted at least two security cameras. They were all going to need to keep in character during the trip to Earth, or risk getting caught.

  She allowed herself to be seated, and her bonds were cut, only for each wrist to be secured to one of the metal rings on either side of her chair. Jonathon reached down and secured her safety straps, business-like and not looking at her. It’s going to be a long trip, she thought to herself. Looking to her right, she could see Nicholas, similarly tied up, two seats away from her. Elza took the seat next to him. Jonathon chose a chair, fastened his own safety straps, then pulled out a personal screen and sat calmly reading. Aurelia envied him his calm, though she could tell it was just for show. There were small creases around his blue eyes, a sure sign that he was under stress.