by R S Penney
“Thank you,” Desala said.
“You see how simple this is?” Slade asked. “All you have to do is stay out of my way, and no one will be hurt.”
“Yes…Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Now let's get me on my way.”
The fury that boiled in Anna's veins was so intense she could actually feel Seth recoiling in discomfort. Three thousand lives. Three thousand men, women and children who lived and worked on this station, and Slade was willing to kill them all just to make an escape! How dare a man like that call himself a Justice Keeper!
How could a man like that ever bond a Nassai? It was clear to her that Slade must carry the same kind of corrupted symbiont she had seen in Wesley Pennfield. No doubt their attempt to capture Summer over three years ago had been intended to create yet another insane Nassai.
Administrator Desala had called just a few short minutes ago to apprise them of the situation. Until then, they had been trying to beat Slade to the SlipGate chamber. But with the lives of every person on this station at risk, did they dare make a move against him?
She heaved out a sigh.
On her left, Jena stood with one hand pressed to the corridor wall, seething with barely restrained rage. The heat in Anna's chest faded to be replaced with a profound sense of guilt. Jena had been right all along! The Keepers had fallen from grace! Their arrogance had blinded them to the traitors in their midst, and now…
Now you have to focus on the task at hand.
Anna closed her eyes tight, shaking her head as a groan escaped her. “We disabled his command codes when we relieved him of duty,” she said. “How could he pull off something like this?”
Jena's face was flushed, her eyes shut as she tried to maintain her composure. “He obviously had a few failsafes installed,” she said. “None of that matters now. Our task is to anticipate his next move.”
“Clearly he wants to leave the station,” Larani said.
The acting head of the Justice Keepers sat with her back pressed to the wall, her legs drawn up against her chest. “There are SlipGates in every major city on the planet's surface,” she added. “He could go anywhere.”
“And once he's down there, we can't track him.” Anna dropped to her knees on the hallway floor, trying not to give in to her growing despair.
It would be next to impossible to find Slade in a city of millions. He would almost certainly disable his multi-tool's GPS link, and once that was done, he could just blend into any crowd. Oh sure, some people might recognize his face, but Slade was clever. He would avoid going out in public whenever possible. No doubt some of Pennfield's old contacts were still down there. “We have to intercept him at the SlipGate chamber.”
“We can't,” Larani insisted.
“We have to!” Anna shouted. “Larani, he's planning something.”
To her great surprise, Jena agreed with the other woman. “You're probably right,” she said, leaning against the opposite wall. “But I'm not willing to risk the lives of all the people on this station.”
“And what about all the people down there?” Anna shot back. “What if he sets off a weapon in a major city? Thousands of lives versus millions? You're the one who told me we sometimes have to make sacrifices for the greater good.”
Turning her head to stare down the corridor, Jena narrowed her eyes. “I read your file before I recruited you,” she said with a nod. “Your teachers all said you were a quick study. Maybe too quick.”
Larani watched her with a solemn expression, a lock of dark hair falling over one eye. “What will you do?” she asked in a soft voice. “Do you intend to prevent him from leaving the station?”
Anna pursed her lips as she stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly. “We'll regain control of the computer once he leaves,” she answered. “I'm going to let him activate the SlipGate; then I'll jump into range before the warp bubble forms and follow him down to the surface.”
“And then?”
“And then I'll kill him myself.”
A smile was the very last thing she would have expected from Jena, but the older woman seemed to approve of this plan. “Go,” she said. “Just you. Larani, you and I are going to organize an evacuation of this station in case. Use your multi-tool and get in touch with as many ships as possible. We need to start moving people to the airlocks.”
Anna didn't waste a second; she was on her feet and running through the hallway before the other woman finished speaking. Rage turned her heart into a fusion reactor pumping energy to every limb in her body.
“Hey, kid!” Jena called out.
When she turned back, the other woman was standing there with a grin on her face. “Good luck.”
After nearly an hour of walking through empty hallways, Slade reached the door to the SlipGate chamber and watched it slide open to reveal a room where a glittering metal triangle stood tall and ominous. The SlipGate had dozens of thin grooves running over its surface, and yet despite that, not one intersected with its neighbours.
Slade entered the room in a hurry, pausing just in front of the control console. “The wonders of your bounty never cease, my Lords,” he said, bowing his head in reverence. He was in the presence of technology that had been handed down from the Inzari.
This particular Gate had likely been manufactured by human hands – after decades of study, they had learned to duplicate the technology – but that meant nothing. Humanity owed everything it had to the Inzari; one day his people would acknowledge that fact and show the proper gratitude.
Sliding his fingers across the console produced no effect; the system was offline. “Computer,” he said. “Reactivate the SlipGate and prepare for outgoing transit, priority ultraviolet.”
The console burst alight with windows that monitored the Gate's subsystems and tracked open ports on the network. At any given time, there were people Slipping back and forth from one city to another. Certain Gates would be designated as “busy” until they had sent or received their passengers.
Thankfully, his escape program had sent a message to some of his allies down on the planet's surface. If they had done their jobs properly, they would have set the Gate in their possession to receive an incoming traveler. He scanned the network for the Gate in question and found that it was indeed active.
He set his destination coordinates.
“Computer,” he said. “Once transit is complete, deactivate this console and wipe all Gate logs. Interface with destination Gate and wipe all travel logs there as well: authorization Slade kenara tal exian.” He didn't need anyone following him.
The computer acknowledged his request.
He stepped out from behind the console and made his way over to the glittering triangle. He was about to activate the Gate when something made him freeze. Any man who had commanded troops in battle would recognize the sound of footsteps, even if his enemy worked hard to conceal them.
When he turned around, Anna came stumbling through the open door with a pistol in each hand, her face red and glistening with sweat. Well, well, well. It seemed fate had provided a pleasant surprise.
Lifting his chin, Slade studied the young woman with lips pursed. “I was hoping it would be you,” he said. “Director Morane is a bit set in her ways, but I've always sensed potential in you.”
She looked up at him with fierce blue eyes. “Get away from the Gate,” she said, jerking her head toward the console. “We're gonna do this nice and slow.”
“Or what?”
Slade crossed his arms, doubling over with a burst of laughter. “You're not going to pull that trigger, my dear,” he mocked. “We both know you're not willing to end the lives of everyone on this station.”
The resolve in her eyes never wavered, but she made no move to stop him. She just kept her gun pointed at his chest. Time to press his advantage. “A little premature, were we?” Slade said. “No doubt your plan was to stow away in my SlipStream and fight me down on the planet's surface.”
“Something li
ke that.”
He spread his arms wide to present her with a tempting target, bowing his head like Christ on the cross. It would have been a deliciously blasphemous image had she been raised with Earther religion. “Let me make this simple for you,” he said. “You can put an end to all my schemes right now.”
Anna stared at him with a blank expression, blinking slowly as though unsure of what she saw. “Step away from the Gate,” she whispered. “It takes ten seconds to form a warp bubble. That's plenty of time for me to put a bullet in your chest.”
“Then pull the trigger, Anna.”
“Shut up.”
“You could do it right now,” he said. “Decades of planning, carefully laid schemes, and you could bring them all crashing down with a simple twitch of your finger. All you have to do is sacrifice the lives of every man, woman and child on this station.
“Pull the trigger and then step through this Gate and take my place. You would be a worthy successor. If you had even a tenth of the knowledge I do, you would see that my cause is just and right and holy. Step through the Gate, Anna, and you will learn the truth that has eluded our species for ten thousand years!”
“Shut up!”
“Or stay here,” he whispered. “Remain nothing but a lowly Justice Keeper. Simple. Average. Pedestrian.” The strain on her face was obvious, the sheen of sweat betraying her fear and confusion. He could see the calculation in her eyes. What were his schemes? How deep did they run? Was stopping him worth three thousand lives? Might her friends somehow circumvent his computer access and restore life support? She was swimming in a sea of confusion.
Now was the time.
He slipped a hand into his pocket, retrieving a small disk-shaped device. “Make a choice, Anna,” he said. “Pull the trigger or lower your weapon, but one way or another, you must choose. These are the choices of a Justice Keeper. If you can't handle them, then perhaps you should slink back to Leyria and live a quiet life painting pictures. There is no shame in it. Not everyone was meant for greatness.”
He thrust a hand out and triggered the force-field generator. A screen of buzzing electrostatic energy appeared before him and sped across the room. It hit Anna full-on and threw her backward to land on her backside. She rolled onto her stomach.
“Computer,” Slade bellowed. “Activate SlipGate.”
Anna pushed herself up on extended arms, groaning her displeasure. She threw a glance over her shoulder, but the warp bubble surrounded him before he could note her expression. The only thing he saw was a very blurry young woman trying to stand up with some difficulty. You should have pulled the trigger, my dear.
The bubble raced forward through an endless dark tunnel, and when it finally came to a stop, he saw nothing but blackness in all directions. Wherever he was, there were no light sources of any kind.
The bubble popped.
Harsh lights filled the darkness, swiveling this way and that before they settled on him. Flashlights. He could not see the men who had come here to meet him, but he could sense them through contact with his symbiont.
Slade closed his eyes as he let out a frustrated sigh. “We will have to speed up our timetable,” he said, stepping away from the Gate. “I am afraid that finding the Key is now more important than ever.”
“You were discovered?”
“Sadly yes.”
They said nothing, of course; good servants did not feel the need to point out any failings in their superiors. Still, he suspected that he had lost face with them. One more situation that he would have to rectify. Now that he was out of harm's way, anger began to flare up within him. Jena Morane had taken a great deal from him. He would have to pay her back in kind one day.
One of the men shuffled over to a wall some ten paces away and pulled open a sliding door with considerable effort. The wan light that came through was not enough to make his eyes smart, and he could tell that dawn was still a few hours off.
He stepped through to find himself standing on a tall rooftop, staring out at a forest of skyscrapers under a cloudy night sky. The chilly wind licked his skin and sent a shiver through his body. He was not dressed for winter weather. Any minute now, his servants would begin protesting that he should not stay out in the cold. Nevertheless, he chose to ignore his body's desire for warmth and take in the sight.
Beijing.
The city had been very different when last he saw it, but that didn't change the fact that he knew this place, knew it deep in his bones. He could taste it in the air, feel it in the soft caress of the wind. He had been to more places than he could count, but no other city in the galaxy could evoke such memories in him.
How long had it been since he had walked these streets? Could he even recall? The years seemed to bleed together at his age, and it didn't really matter anyway. As he stood by the edge of the rooftop, it became clear to him that only one thing mattered. After a lifetime spent flying from star system to star system, Grecken Slade had come home.
The End of Part 1.
Interlude
A sliver of moonlight came through the window. Just enough to reveal the four-post bed as a shadow against the blackness. The curtains fluttered in the cool, whistling wind. A pleasant evening if ever she had seen one.
Isara sat on the mattress with her hands folded in her lap, lost in thought. Just then, she wanted nothing more than to go back home to Leyria. Slade's most recent display of incompetence had forced her to travel all the way to Earth, and her prolonged absence meant that several projects had been left unattended.
Worse yet, she had been forced to travel even further from home – as far as she had ever been, in fact – to keep an eye on Pennfield. Her associates saw themselves as clever men, but they had a tendency to lose sight of the finer details. It had been Pennfield's idea to send that troglodyte Leo to Earth. A hammer where a scalpel would do. She had told them over and over that such a plan was doomed to failure, and did anyone listen? There were times when she wondered why the Inzari bothered with lesser servants. She could accomplish more than either of her compatriots while attracting far less notice. Events on Leyria proved that much.
Years of carefully laid strategy disrupted because Slade couldn't control one small, insignificant woman. Well, Isara had to admit that if anyone had a chance of countering Slade's maneuvers, it would be Jena Morane. She would have been proud if she were not so annoyed. Now she had to take attention away from the delicate situation on Leyria to clean up the mess.
A knock at the door.
Isara pulled up her hood. “Enter.”
The door swung open to reveal the silhouette of a man standing against the well-lit hallway. “Lady Isara,” he said, stepping into the room. “A late dinner has been prepared if you would care to join us.”
“Yes. Very well.”
She rose in one smooth, graceful motion and glided around the foot of the bed like a wraith floating on the rolling fog. The young man backed away from the door, clearly shaken by the sight of her.
She would have smiled if the novelty of seeing people flinch had not worn off long ago. Circumstances forced her to wear the hood; she would surely be recognized without it.
A long hallway with cream-coloured walls and thick blue carpets stretched all the way to a small landing where a banister overlooked the first floor. Over the railing, she could already see chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
The young man took off at a quick pace, keeping his back turned as though he were afraid to look at her. “Right this way, my lady,” he said softly. “I have been told the roast duck is most excellent this evening.”
Isara nearly clicked her tongue in frustration. She had no love for all the pomp and circumstance that men like Slade seemed to prefer. Technology in the form of a simple intercom could have summoned her just as easily as this trembling idiot. Even Pennfield grew weary of all the bowing and scraping. But then these were Slade's estates. Much as she disliked the man, nothing would be accomplished by antagonizing him, and ridding t
he house of servants would certainly have that effect.
When she reached the railing, she saw him.
Pennfield stood with his back turned on the first floor, staring out a window that looked out on the lawn behind the house. The man wore a long red coat cut in Ragnosian fashion, its hem nearly touching his knees.
Next to him, a square-shaped table supported two empty plates and a small candle in a glass jar. No doubt the servants would wait for her to take her place before laying out each course one by one.
Isara descended the steps with gloved hands folded over her belly, her dark cloak flapping against the backs of her legs. “Well this is certainly festive,” she said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Pennfield turned around.
The man lifted his chin, squinting at her. In true Ragnosian fashion, he had traded his glasses for a pair of contact lenses. Any outward sign of disability was considered a faux pas on this world. “You still wear the hood,” he noted. “Sure you needn't hide your face from me.”
Standing before him with hands clasped behind herself, Isara kept her head down by instinct. “I wear it out of habit,” she said with a curt nod. “Good habits, once properly instilled, are difficult to break.”
He glanced toward the table, a tight frown visible on his face. “You came to discuss my progress here,” he said in a dry voice. “I suggest we commence. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can finish.”
“Very well.”
She chose the chair on her right, sitting primly with hands folded in her lap. The hood would make eating awkward but not impossible. “The Inzari are quite impressed. You have successfully stoked the Ragnosian's xenophobia.”
Pennfield sat across from her. “I do not require your praise,” he said. “The Old Ones are pleased, and that is more than sufficient.”
“But circumstances have changed.”
Pennfield looked up at her with hard gray eyes, slowly arching one dark eyebrow. “In what way?” he inquired. “Have the Old Ones finally decided to end my isolation on this wretched world?”
