by RF Hurteau
Edwin frowned, and Denton saw him exchange a glance with Sylvia. He realized, with a start, that he knew where this conversation was going. For six months, they’d told him to keep his mouth shut, and he had. And now they were just going to blab without so much as consulting him?
“They already know we’re here,” Edwin said.
“What?” Nelson said looking confused. “I don’t understand.”
“They, whoever they are, sent some kind of ship here, around the time when the Elves left. The ship is gone, but the crash site remains. In D6.”
The room exploded with sound, but Nelson’s outraged voice rang out above the others. “You knew there were people out there and you didn’t think I would want to know?”
“We’d intended on informing everyone, Nelson—”
The younger man slammed his fist down on the table, and the room went silent. Denton had seen the little man pitch plenty of fits in the past, but the rage he exuded now was palpable. “How many others know about this?”
Edwin looked Nelson up and down, probably sizing up how much of a threat he posed in his current state. “Myself,” he said, slowly, “Sylvia, Denton, Ben…and a few members of the Maintenance department.”
“Ben?” Nelson said, whirling on his friend, who cowered in his chair, hands up, cringing.
“They made me promise not to tell,” he said weakly.
“I thought you were my friend!” Nelson bellowed.
“I am!” Ben shouted back. “But I’m also a part of leadership now. I have responsibilities, too. They told me not to say anything, so I didn’t.” Ben looked both surprised and hurt at Nelson’s reaction. It was Sylvia who stood up and tried to diffuse the situation.
“What matters is that they know we’re here, but they’ve made no attempt to contact us. We have to assume, at this point, that they either have no interest in us, or that they are actively working against us. Either way, we are on our own, and we need to be prepared.”
“We would be more prepared if you’d used every resource at your disposal,” Nelson managed to say through gritted teeth. He looked at Denton, who stared back at him, mildly amused. If nothing else, at least this meeting wasn’t as terribly boring as usual. With a huff, Nelson sat down. He was biting his lower lip, as if he had more to say, but was intent on giving them the silent treatment instead. It was a few long, awkward moments before anyone spoke again. “I think perhaps that’s enough for tonight. Let’s bring this to a close,” Edwin said with an air of resignation.
“‘Bout time,” Denton grumbled, getting to his feet. The others rose slower, talking amongst themselves, making plans and sharing ideas. Denton, on the other hand, made a beeline for the exit, eager to escape the stuffy room and all the stuffy occupants it held.
Back in the lobby, he paused briefly beside the small plaque that stood in the center of the walkway. One hundred and seven names were engraved in small, clear letters, beneath the words “Reclamation Day Victims.” It listed every Human life that had been lost during the Anniversary celebrations. Edwin and his groupies had declared the day to be henceforth known as “Reclamation Day” to celebrate their liberation from the Elves. Percy’s name was here somewhere. He’d died in Geo, during the mission to rescue Ben Parker. He’d never bothered to read through to find it. Memorials weren’t really his thing.
The whole thing was stupid, a political ploy to turn a terrible memory into something worth honoring. Denton thought maybe the leadership was hoping that, in the future, people would see this plaque and imagine that these names had been brave soldiers who had fought against the Elves and died. But the truth was, most of them had been killed by fellow Humans. A few Elves had been left behind, sure, and they’d done their fair share of damage. But those Elves hadn’t been enough to quell the bloodlust of the crowds. Pent-up rage had flowed through the streets that night, and well into the days that followed. Denton sneered down at the little plaque. A great way to start our new lives, he thought. With a lie, engraved in fancy letters, placed boldly at the heart of our new establishment.
Denton tore his gaze away, and headed for home.
* * *
It had been three days since their last Council meeting, and though Edwin had cornered him in the hall yesterday to confirm that everything was going smoothly with his newly enlarged team, Denton was enjoying a rare, politic-free morning. He was strolling the halls of Sigil, thinking about lunch, when his comm went off. His mood soured instantly, and he scowled at a passing young woman who shrank toward the wall and scurried past.
“What is it?” he demanded.
It was Nelson. “Where are you?” the younger man nagged. “You were supposed to arrive early!”
Denton stopped walking. “What are you talking about? Arrive early where?” His stomach churned. Another meeting, perhaps? Would it never end?
“Unbelievable,” Nelson said in amazement. “Listen, I have to go, I’ve let them in. Just get up to Core Operations and keep an eye on them.”
Denton turned around, heading back the way he had come. He tried to think of what Nelson had meant, but he was coming up empty. Core Operations…hmm. Just who was he supposed to be keeping an eye on?
As he approached the central room, he saw Sylvia, standing with her back to him, arms crossed. She turned at his approach, and her posture relaxed somewhat, though her face remained stern. “Where have you been?” she snapped. “We got here nearly fifteen minutes ago. It’s supposed to be a guided tour, and now they’re all just wandering around.”
“You wanted…me…to give a guided tour of Core Operations?” Denton asked, slowly.
“No, of course not! We were touring all of Sigil. And Nelson was in charge, but Edwin insisted on having Security present. For crying out loud, Denton, weren’t you even listening at the meeting?” She huffed. “Well, anyway, Nelson got called away, and they got bored waiting.” She gestured half-heartedly to a dozen or so people who were wandering aimlessly about the room, trailing their hands along the rails or staring at various control panels, at which nervous operators worked quietly, glancing up occasionally at the curious newcomers.
“Who are they?”
“Some of my patients,” said Sylvia, her tone softening slightly. “Some of the worst of them. They’ve been cooped up so long, I thought it might be nice to show them around, show them what we’ve done with the place, you know? Get them up and moving a bit.” Denton watched as one man, leaning on a cane, head swaddled in bandages, approached a bank of monitors and sat down to rest.
“You needed Security to watch a bunch of cripples and invalids?” Denton said, half insulted, half confused.
“Not really. But, you know, we are working on some pretty sensitive stuff. Edwin just wanted us to have an escort, to make sure no one wandered off somewhere they shouldn’t. These people have been through a lot. Some of them…get confused. Easily upset.”
Denton snorted. “So, you’ve got a bunch of disturbed people walking around our main control center while Edwin still wants to play at cloak and daggers,” he scoffed. “We’re doing a real great job so far, doing things different then the Elves.”
Sylvia frowned and opened her mouth, about to say something, but at that moment Edwin and Nelson came rushing into the room. Edwin’s cheeks were flushed and the rest of his face was pale white.
Edwin stopped short, looking around. “Sweet Evenmire,” he breathed. “Sylvia, Denton, get these people out of here.” Nelson grabbed the nearest patient by the shoulder and gave her a shove toward the door.
“What?” Sylvia said, startled. “But why?”
Edwin was shaking his head, and he moved off. Denton started to raise his arms to corral the patients toward the exit, but when he realized where Edwin was heading, he paused. “What’s going on, Edwin?” he shouted. Edwin cringed and, with a slight hesitation, waved him over.
“We have a situation,” he said under his breath, hunched over the controls for the gun turrets. Another man rushed in and slid into the seat, t
aking over. Edwin backed away. “Get ready,” he commanded the man, who nodded.
Denton looked around, then asked quietly, “What kind of situation?”
“They’re coming,” Edwin said quickly. He looked up. Nelson had just trotted over to join them.
“Denton, we don’t want an audience for this,” he reiterated. “Okay,” Denton demanded, loudly, to the room at large. “You heard the man. Tour’s over. We’ve got a situation.”
The room erupted in an excited buzzing, and the patients who had been moving toward the door ceased their progress to join in.
“Nice going,” Edwin said, cursing. “Never mind. There’s no time. Just stay out of the way.”
Denton felt a surge of anger roar up into his chest. This was a Security matter. These were his turrets. Built by his nerds. Did Edwin honestly just tell him to stay out of the way?
“Now you listen here,” Denton growled, but his voice was drowned out by Nelson, who was now shouting orders.
“I want the main view screen on, now! Come on, come on!” This screen, roughly six feet across and four feet high, had been installed and patched in to the Observatory so that any of the cameras there could be projected on to it. “Meagan, scroll through for me again,” Nelson barked into his comm.
Pictures of icy landscapes slid across the screen in a silent procession. “Stop!” Nelson shouted. “Give me D6 again. No, the other angle. There! Stop.”
Denton squinted at the screen, along with everyone else. In the far distance, there was something glinting in the light of the setting sun. It grew steadily larger, but it was still much too distant to make out.
“Can we zoom in?” Nelson asked through his comm, then cursed, obviously not pleased with the answer. He looked around the room. “Sylvia, why are these people still here?” he pleaded. Sylvia, who had been standing, transfixed, shook herself, and started to herd several patients toward the door. None of the others made a move to leave. “Denton!” Nelson said sternly.
Denton shook his head. “I’m not leaving. These are my turrets. You want them out, take care of it yourself. I want to see the looks on those smug Elven faces when we start mowing them down.”
Nelson looked both confused and annoyed. “What are you talking about? The Elves aren’t coming.”
“But Edwin said—”
“They’re approaching fast,” one of the men at the turret controls interrupted.
“We can see that!” Nelson snapped. “But we can’t do anything until they’re within range. Damn, I wish we’d thought to put turrets facing all directions sooner!”
“Prepare to lock on,” Edwin said, his voice cool. He leaned toward Nelson, and Denton heard him say something about keeping calm.
“I am calm!” Nelson protested in a high-pitched voice. The speck on the screen had grown much larger now. Denton had never seen anything like it. It was shaped almost like an elongated egg, leaving a trail of white behind it as it soared closer and closer. Large, circular headlamps gave it the appearance of a strange, mechanical insect, and a small, rounded fin protruded from the top of it.
“What the hell is that thing?” Denton asked, and Edwin spared a pitying glance toward him.
“All I can say is, we’ve picked up a few more communications over the radio. We think it’s an envoy sent to treat with the Therans,” Edwin replied. “We’re not going to let that happen.”
Denton felt his eyes go wide, the familiar emotions burning in his stomach. He looked at the screen again, and the object was much closer now, but still difficult to make out on the black and white monitor. “Who are these guys?”
“Are we ready to fire?” Edwin demanded of the man at the control panel, ignoring Denton’s inquiry completely.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Ready as soon as they’re in range.”
Suddenly, the object on the screen turned slightly, and Denton and the others could make out the profile of the small, bullet-shaped ship. It was a silvery blur as it disappeared out of camera range up and over the dome. The screen blinked, and a new angle showed the ship from behind.
“What if they’re friendly?” Sylvia said, as she hurried over to Edwin’s side, squeezing his arm.
“We can’t take the risk. We can’t let them get through the Gate. Fire at will,” Edwin said as they watched the ship slow.
“No!”
The voice came from beside Edwin, where one of the patients, the one with the cane, had slowly made his way up beside them. In the commotion, no one had noticed his presence, but now the man flung himself forward, his cane sailing toward the operator, who ducked, covering his head and cowering in his seat. Edwin stepped forward, but the man threw him off in a rage.
“Fire! Do it now!” commanded Nelson, and the operator sat up, his hand darting toward the panel to press one of the controls, even as the cane approached for another wild swing. Sylvia raced forward now.
“Don’t hurt him!” she cried out, “He’s disoriented, he didn’t mean—”
His cane came down once, twice, three times against the control panel, shattering the glass and exposing wires. He kept wailing on it as Sylvia tried to drag him back, and seconds later, Denton managed to shake off his own shock at the situation and surged forward. He grasped the man from behind, clamping his scrawny arms against his sides and heaving him away from the panel. The man was still shouting incoherently as Denton dragged him toward the exit, clawing at him wildly with both hands.
“Did we get them?” Nelson was asking.
“I think so, sir,” the operator said, clearly shaken.
Edwin, who had been knocked onto his backside, stood up slowly.
“What happened?” he asked, rubbing his behind. “I didn’t see.”
“Unsure, sir. They went through the Gate.”
“Damn,” Edwin said, looking around. He spotted Denton, still holding the man, who struggled uselessly against his grip. “You did this,” Edwin snarled. “You just destroyed the only thing New Sanctuary has to defend itself with.” He turned on Sylvia, who looked flustered. “Get him out of here. Put him in isolation.” He turned back toward Nelson, surveying the damage to the control panel. “We need this fixed. We don’t know when they’ll come back through or how many Elves they’ll bring with them.”
Denton felt the man relax in his grip and cautiously released him. Sylvia grasped him by the shoulders and looked into his face. “Why did you do that?” she whispered to him, clearly distraught, as she led him away.
“I’m sorry,” Denton heard the man mutter. “I’m sorry.”
Denton watched them go, then turned back toward the view screen, where he found Nelson and Edwin staring coldly in his direction.
“Don’t look at me,” he started defensively, but Edwin cut him off.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you had been doing your job,” said Smalls in a menacing voice.
“It wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t let a bunch of random people into the control room!” he argued.
“You were supposed to be watching them! I said to get them out!”
For once, Nelson seemed to be the one with a cool head. “What’s done is done,” he said. “Now we have to deal with the consequences.”
All three of them turned to the view screen where two long streaks of mounded snow were the only evidence that the strange craft had ever been there at all. Antiquity’s Gate stood solemnly, offering no indication that any of the last few minutes had transpired. The room was tense, as if everyone there were holding their breath, waiting to see if anything came back through.
“I think we got them,” Nelson said, quietly.
“I’m not so sure,” Edwin replied, “but I have a feeling that we’re going to find out, one way or the other.”
five
An Elf by Any Other Name
From somewhere in the darkness, Felix heard a moan.
“When did they install turrets?” groaned Tobias.
Felix sat up, his head pounding. “Is every
one okay?” he asked. Ambrose gave a grunt of affirmation, then a gasp. “Penelope? Penelope!” Felix heard the sound of scuffling as Ambrose fought with his buckles. “Oh, thank heavens!” he sobbed. “Penelope’s been knocked out, but she’s breathing. I don’t think she’s bleeding.”
“Wilks?” Felix called, groping around in the thick blackness. There was no answer. “So much for a softer landing this time,” he complained. “Isn’t there supposed to be emergency lighting in this tin can?”
“I’m working on it,” came Tobias’ voice. There was the sound of crawling, then a crash. “Sorry! My fault, entirely.” Painfully long moments passed, and then the cabin began to glow with a dim yellow light that made everyone’s face look pallid and gaunt. Felix saw Ambrose hovering over Penelope’s seat, and glanced to the back where Tobias was standing up, looking battered but otherwise none the worse for wear. It was only after this that he looked to the side, where a series of small holes were now visible in the hull. Thoris Wilks leaned limply against the wall, clutching his abdomen, where a dark stain was blossoming across his green silk waistcoat. The man said nothing, just stared at it for a moment. Then he looked up at Felix and swayed.
Felix caught him before he hit the ground, laying him down the rest of the way gently. “Tobias!” he shouted, but there was no need. Tobias was already beside him.
“Put pressure on it,” he commanded. “Ambrose, we need your help over here.”
Slick blood oozed up between Felix’s fingers as he pressed down hard. He cast a glance at Thoris’ face, which seemed paler than just moments before. Thoris’ mouth worked, but no words came out. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his lip, sliding down his cheek.
“Toby, what do I do now?” Felix asked. He’d never dealt with anything like this before. He had no idea what was needed. Did he just keep holding it? Bandages? Tobias offered no guidance. “Tobias!” he said harshly, turning to see that the young man had a queer look on his face.
“It’s no use,” Tobias said quietly.
