by RF Hurteau
Tobias sat on the floor near the back of the vessel, consulting several of Bohai’s charts. He was whispering, occasionally pursing his lips, deep in thought.
“What is it?” Felix asked after a time, noticing Tobias nodding to himself.
“I’ve charted a course,” he said. “It’s tricky, because most of the waters are under Culeian jurisdiction. But I think I’ve found a route that should take us fairly close to Atmos without being detected.”
“Assuming that the Culeians are even honoring any territorial agreements,” Felix said with a pointed look toward Bohai. “They aren’t above treachery.”
“That’s hardly fair,” Bohai interjected, his voice meek. “The demilitarized zone that runs the length of Pravacordia’s eastern shore is part of the treaty between all three major nation-states. Of course, Culei respects it.”
“I’m sure,” Felix said sarcastically. He looked at the charts over Tobias’ shoulder. “Can’t we just burrow under this landmass all the way to Atmos?”
Bohai shook his head. “No. You are looking at thousands of miles between here and Atmos. The drill wasn’t designed to bore through solid earth for long distances, and definitely not through rock. It’s made more specifically for ice. Quite ingenious, really. You see, the drill is heated—”
“I don’t care,” Felix said shortly. “Just plot the course.”
“I miss Pluto,” Ambrose said sadly. “She’d have gotten us home.”
Penelope reached out, placing her delicate arm around Ambrose’s broad shoulders. “There will be other ships,” she said encouragingly.
“Not like her,” Ambrose replied.
Felix sat back down, across from Laevus, who studied him silently. Felix angled himself away from his brother and stared out of the porthole. Streams of bubbles bounced along the outer surface of the glass, the only real indication he could see that they were moving. The water stretched out as far as he could see. Where were Willow and the children now? Were they safe? Were they afraid? He wanted to protect them. But he’d failed Ripley. He’d failed his mother. Would he fail them, too? They should have found a nice deserted island. He wouldn’t mind living on coconuts. They could have raised their children in peace.
Instead, Felix was stuck in this stupid ship in the middle of the stupid ocean. Suddenly furious, he rose from the chair and kicked it, hard. Everyone jumped, turning to stare at him. He sat back down, folding his arms, feeling helpless.
“It really won’t do to throw a tantrum,” remarked Laevus coolly.
“Okay. Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t care what you think. I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not in the mood.”
“We don’t have to be enemies, you know,” he purred. “I think we’d make a wonderful team, you and I. Certainly, I couldn’t have inherited all of the intellect. I have a feeling that, deep down…really, really deep…you’re an intelligent guy. Just imagine what we could accomplish!”
Felix ignored him and rested his head in the crook of his elbow. He closed his eyes, but sleep evaded him.
The ship was cramped and cold. Tempers flared. Eventually, they settled into an uncomfortable truce of silence. As the fourth day of their journey dawned, his own feelings pushed aside, Felix resolved to diffuse the tension on board.
He began with Tobias, who sat tapping his foot, one eye twitching slightly. “Hey, Toby,” Felix said, trying to sound lighthearted. “What’s up?”
“He just stares,” said Tobias, his voice rising unnaturally high. “He stares, and sometimes he hums. He’s freaking me out.”
Felix glanced at Laevus, who met his gaze with unassuming innocence.
“You know what, ignore him. Get some rest.”
“Rest! Yes!” said Tobias, standing up. “I swear, though, if he hums at me one more time, I’ll, I’ll…” his voice trailed off as he reached out, clasping an invisible neck, which he proceeded to wring with gusto.
“We’ll be making landfall soon,” reported Bohai. The Ambassador looked gaunt. Dark circles, whether from lack of sleep or an overabundance of guilt, ringed his eyes.
“Excellent!” said Felix, with a forced smile. “All right, once we land—”
The little vessel suddenly pitched to the right as an enormous explosion rocked them. Tobias, who had still been gesticulating in the aisle, flew against the wall and crumpled to the floor. “What was that?” Felix shouted to Bohai.
“I... I’m not sure,” Bohai admitted.
“I’d have to go with an explosion,” said Laevus lazily, unfazed by the violent rocking motion of the ship.
Penelope gasped and pointed. Tiny rivulets had formed beneath the porthole. “We’re taking on water!”
“Get us to the surface!” Felix yelled.
“Is that wise?” Ambrose asked. “Someone just tried to blow us up!”
Felix shook his head. “They either missed, or they weren’t aiming for us. It doesn’t matter. We won’t last long down here.”
He heard the sound of sand scraping their underbelly as they made contact with the shore. Another explosion rocked them, this one more powerful. Pain exploded inside his skull as his head made contact with the hull. Everything went dark.
He regained consciousness some time later, a circle of bright sunlight boring through his eyelids, which protested his attempts to open them. When at last they surrendered, he peered through hazy vision up at the hatch, which stood open. He sat up slowly, feeling like he might be sick. He looked around. The others were either still knocked out or slowly coming to.
All, except one.
“Where is he?” Felix shouted, his chest constricting in icy panic. He leapt to his feet and staggered to the hatch. Outside, the world seemed to be on fire. He pulled his sleeve over his face, choking on the acrid smell of burning.
“Where did he go?” he shouted, and suddenly found himself laughing. Laughing as tears streamed down his face. It was simply too much.
“Where’s Laevus?”
epilogue
The roar of the crowd continued as Nelson approached the podium. He was now wishing that he’d spoken before Sylvia, whose speech would be a hard act to follow. He rehearsed lines in his mind and cleared his throat, all of them sounding somewhat less impressive than they had ten minutes ago.
There was a buzzing in his ear, but the crowd was too loud to make out what was being said. Nelson looked to Sylvia, and could tell that she, too, had been contacted. He shrugged at her and looked out over the crowd, who seemed content for the moment. He backed away from the podium, motioning with a finger to indicate that he would return shortly, then moved back toward the entrance to Sigil. Edwin jogged up behind them.
“What’s going on?” he asked, as the doors shut and the silence of the lobby enveloped them. “I couldn’t hear.”
“I don’t know,” said Nelson, gesturing for him to be quiet. “This is Nelson,” he said, addressing the comm. “What’s going on?”
“Nelson, it’s Killian. You guys need to get down to Pods right away. Something’s happening outside.”
“Outside the dome?” Nelson repeated. “What’s happening out there?”
Sylvia clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. “Ben’s out there!” she said. “What’s going on? Ben’s out there. He’s studying the drill!”
“We need Security,” Killian insisted. “Edwin had them all fall back to manage the crowds; there’s no one left down here. There are Elves outside. They’re fighting. Please, just hurry.”
Nelson stared at Edwin without seeing. “There are Elves outside,” he repeated slowly.
“Sweet Evenmire,” Edwin whispered. He pivoted sharply, racing out the door. “Denton! Get your men in here, now!”
“Nelson, what’s going on?” Sylvia repeated, frightened.
“Come on, let’s go find out,” he said, and together they took off at a run.
They raced down to Pods, where Killian was waiting for them. “We were still in Core Operations,” he explained
without being asked. “We were using the big view screen, and all of a sudden, people—Elves—started coming through the Gate. More than a dozen. I tried to get ahold of you, but when I couldn’t, I came down here straight away. I sent some guys up ahead—”
Sylvia pushed past him without a word, and Nelson followed at a sprint. They raced up the long tunnel, feeling the gradual chill growing stronger as they neared the exit. Up ahead, they saw Killian’s men stooped over someone lying on the ground.
“Ben!” Sylvia cried, dropping to her knees before her brother, who was bleeding. “Ben, what happened? You’re hurt!”
She shouted at the nearest man. “Go back! Get help! Oh, Ben, Ben…” she collapsed into sobs. Nelson stood, uncertain how to help. He watched two of the men stand up. They jogged past him, back toward Pods. Remembering his comm, he reached up and tapped it. “Killian,” he said quietly, “Ben is injured. Bring a stretcher. And a doctor. Hurry.”
There were the sounds of many pounding footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Denton, leading a large compliment of Security guards. They didn’t stop, passing the group huddled around Ben as they headed for the exit. Nelson, still shocked, approached Sylvia and knelt beside her.
“Hey buddy,” he said. “What happened out there?”
Ben looked pale. His wound had been bound, but he was coated in blood. His face was a mask of pain and anger. “I need…to talk…to Edwin.” he panted between labored breaths. “We need…the pods.”
“Of course, of course we’ll use the pods, Ben. I’ll get you fixed up. You’re going to be fine. I’ll take care of you, Ben. Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry this happened…” Sylvia collapsed into sobs again, and Nelson wrapped an awkward arm around her as Ben shook his head fervently.
“Not for me,” he said, grunting. “All the pods.”
“Ben, you’re talking nonsense. Just save your strength. Let us get you taken care of, then you can talk to Edwin about whatever you want.”
“I’m fine,” Ben insisted, angrily, gritting his teeth. “There’s no time. We need to start now. Right now.”
Nelson was truly concerned now. Ben was confused, incoherent.
“There’s…” Ben bit his tongue hard, forcing himself to focus through obvious anguish. “There’s a war coming,” he managed at last. “We need to…use the pods. Build an army. Before…they come.”
“What war? What army?” Nelson demanded, but Sylvia gasped.
“Clones?” she asked in a whisper. Ben nodded.
“Clones?” Nelson asked. At that moment, there were more footsteps from behind them. The men had returned, a stretcher between them.
“We have to…start now,” Ben muttered again. “No time. They’re…coming.”
Then he drifted into unconsciousness, and Nelson helped the men lift him gently onto the stretcher.
“What was he talking about?” Nelson asked Sylvia, as they walked on either side of the stretcher. “What’s he saying? About clones?”
Sylvia looked at him, her eyes dull. “It’s what the Elves were trying to do down here,” she said. “They were trying to make clones. And Ben thinks he’s figured out how we can do it, too.”
Nelson looked down at his friend, then at Sylvia again, and then he just stared down the long corridor in front of them.
With a sudden gasp, Ben sat bolt upright on the stretcher, grabbing Nelson by the arm. His eyes were wide, pleading. Afraid.
“They’re coming,” he whispered.
