After Moses: Wormwood

by Michael F Kane

  “So how does this end?” the priest asked. “Perhaps there’s a way we all leave this room alive? Then you and I can continue our chase elsewhere. There’s no reason to involve Medvedev.”

  Stein laughed. “There’s every reason to involve her. She hired me to kill you.”

  Tatiyana felt Abigail’s eyes land on her and pass from shock into anger. ‘How could you?’ was the unspoken accusation. She’d seen that look before. Once, long ago, her partner Mara had given her such a look. Dearest Abigail, you were always mine. Just like my Liam. Even in betrayal. She choked in fury at the cruelty of it all. Because just like Liam, Mara, and so many others, she couldn’t keep those she loved within her arms. They turned to ashes and drifted away.

  “Now that we’re all on the same page,” Stein said, “we can discuss the path forward. You see, I’m not quite done yet, Cole. Much as I’d love to finish what I started, I don’t see any way to put another bullet in you that doesn’t end in your partner separating my head from my body.”

  That would be an acceptable outcome as far as Tatiyana was concerned. Everyone dead but Abigail, and her soul weighed down by the guilt of her betrayal. There would be justice in that resolution.

  “Name your terms,” the priest said. “If the woman walks free, I may give you a head start. A very short one.”

  Stein’s other hand reached around Tatiyana and pulled the chain from her neck. “Hmm. You may be a man of your word, but I’m not quite crazy enough to think you won’t kill me the moment I lose my hostage. Beck. Come here.” He passed her miracle to the man that approached his side. “Here are the terms. I walk out a free man. Beck is going to stay here and activate the hag’s parlor trick again. I’m not quite sure what it does, but it gave you time to get here, so I suspect it will also allow me a safe retreat.”

  “You’re kind of throwing Beck to the wolves here,” Abigail said.

  “He’ll surrender once I’m gone,” Stein said. “And being as predictable as you are, you’ll spare his life. When my fate eventually catches up with me, he’ll be under lock and key when that happens. He’s the lucky one that gets to live.”

  Medvedev spoke for the first time in several minutes, careful not to move her throat any more than was absolutely necessary. “He came here to kill me. Even if the butcher escapes, his lackey will cut my throat.” She spoke with absolute certainty. Men like Stein didn’t spare their enemies under any circumstance.

  A new hand appeared at her throat as Beck and Stein traded positions. “But it’s a chance the priest will take,” Stein said. He pulled back the curtain, letting light into the room, and then smashed the window with his boot. “Cole, I expect to continue this at a later date.” Then he disappeared over the seal, along with the third henchman.

  “Beck,” Abigail said. “If you put that knife down right now and let us go after your former boss, I’m sure the law will find some leniency. We can make a deal.”

  It was a vain effort. He would not betray his boss. Stein would only admit those that were absolutely loyal to his inner circle. This fool would die for him. From the corner of her eye, she saw Beck raise his hand with her miracle.

  Her end of days had come at last.

  “Don’t do it,” the priest said, taking a step forward.

  There was a soft click as the cube lit up—

  —and then she gasped as the knife plunged into her throat, cold biting steel, greedily taking from her what little life she had left in her veins. She slipped from her killer’s grasp and fell to the floor, landing hard on her side. The world became a whorl, impossible to decipher. She had the distinct impression that she was falling, and she nearly closed her eyes, damning the universe and all those that had abandoned her. But then, for one moment, it cleared, and she saw Abigail’s face, torn between grief and anger. And then she too was gone, and with a sigh, Tatyana Medvedev closed her eyes and breathed no more.

  THE LIGHT COMING FROM the window abruptly shifted when Beck activated the miracle, and an hour passed in the outside world. As he dug the knife into her old broker’s throat, Abigail cried out in anger. In a single bound, she crossed the distance and backhanded the man with fatal force. He sailed across the room, dead before he hit the ground. No matter that Stein was right. They would have spared him if he’d surrendered.

  But as she knelt by Medvedev, the floor gave out. Sliced apart by a second space-time gradient, this time in a slightly different spot, the tortured manor gave way under her impact as support columns shifted and floors sagged. Abigail wrapped Medvedev tight in her arms as they fell, and debris rained around them. They landed somewhere on the first floor, though a large part of the second was joining them. She hoped that Matthew wasn’t caught in the ruin, of either the building or her early career.

  After thirty seconds, the damage seemed to be done, and the collapse subsided for the time being. She glanced at the woman in her arms and tried to see if she was breathing or had a pulse. As far she could tell, she had neither, but she wasn’t in the best position to check, half-buried in debris. She stood and began to push aside the fragments of twisted rebar, plaster, and concrete until she reached a door and wall that were relatively intact. This led to a hallway, and she finally recognized where she was. She jogged toward the main atrium.

  It was crawling with dozens of Russian police officers. It was nearly evening now, and the blue and red flashing from emergency vehicles cast flickering lights into the manor’s foyer. “I need a medic!” she shouted, then paused, realizing most of them probably spoke Russian. “Doctor!” The Russian word was close enough to English that they would all understand. The cry was repeated, only with more words that she didn’t understand, and she gently laid Medvedev down. A few seconds later, a pair of paramedics appeared and knelt to work on her.

  Abigail already knew the answer, but she needed to be here when it was declared. Despite the accusations of abandonment, Abigail had fulfilled her promise. When she permanently joined Matthew’s crew, she’d promised to be there if the older woman ever needed her. And she’d made good on it. She just failed to make it worth anything.

  The paramedics looked at her sadly and shook their heads.

  Abigail nodded. “Spasibo.” And then she turned away. Somewhere in this disaster she had to find Matthew, had to make sure that he was okay. She stood a foot taller than the sea of unfamiliar faces, looking around desperately and ready to charge back into the damaged part of the building, when she spotted him coming down the stairs with Thompson.

  She couldn’t help it. She grabbed Matthew in a hug and lifted him off the ground, cautious not to crush him or squeeze the air out of him.

  He coughed once. “Glad you’re okay. I take it that Medvedev...?”

  “She’s gone,” she said, setting him down awkwardly. She looked at Thompson, “You called for the backup, I guess?”

  “After you guys got imprisoned by whatever that field was, I decided it was time to bring in the local authorities. Unfortunately, Milena spotted Stein escaping. He’s gone. Again.”

  She shook her head. “What a waste of time. This whole trip.”

  “We thinned his resources,” Matthew said. “And I guess now we know who hired him to kill me.”

  She couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “I think I bear some responsibility for that.”

  “I don’t have to tell you how foolish that thought is. But at this point, it’s not about a contract anymore, it’s personal.”

  “Isn’t it always,” Thompson said. “I know you two have a ship to catch, but the local authorities are going to at least need a statement.”

  “Sorry to have to bounce on you,” Matthew said. “But if there’s a chance we can catch Logan—”

  “I expect you to take it. Let’s get this over with.”

  THE QUEEN OF SHEBA dropped out of frameshift in perfect formation with three other ships, the Qolxad, Red Dragon, and Azure Dream. Gebre’elwa stepped away from the front viewport and turned to her communications officer.
“Open a channel to the fleet.” She waited on confirmation before continuing. “Lantern Fleet, prepare to transfer to geostationary orbit nearest Kyoto.”

  “Understood,” came the reply from the Red Dragon. “Any sign of our quarry yet?”

  She glanced at another member of her bridge crew, who only shook their head. “Not yet.”

  “Pity,” Ewan Hywel said. “Though I guess we’ll be ready to intercept when they show their ugly faces.”

  “Qolxad, Azure Dream, are you ready for the transfer?”

  “We’re waiting on your order, ma’am,” said Captain Dominguez of the Azure Dream. ‘Elwa had only met Dominguez a handful of times, but the escaped slave turned freelancer captain had a sterling reputation. He was the sort that could always be relied upon.

  She had the details on the orbital transfer sent over to the rest of the fleet, and when their window came, the fleet performed the burn in unison. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched the scopes. She was used to maneuvers with the Qolxad, but there was something a little exciting about being part of a larger group. When the Sparrow showed, they would chase it down and force it to surrender. And when they had Logan, the universe would be that much safer for all of them.

  She glanced at the time. Davey would be landing the Imperious Doubt to pick up Cole any moment now. She felt a stab of pity for the fractured crew and knew that Cole was probably near frantic for news of his mother and Yvonne. A crew was the responsibility of the captain, and even if it wasn’t his fault, he would be losing sleep over it. Her thoughts drifted to Yvonne. The woman had been very indirect about what was troubling her, other than it was about her husband. ‘Elwa hoped she would be able to find peace. It was hard to lose a husband. Worse to have him murdered.

  They’d barely reached their target orbit when an officer called for her attention. “Ma’am, I’ve got a ping on the tracker!”

  “Show me.”

  A diagram of local Mars space appeared, populated by various stations and its two moons. The Lantern Fleet appeared high in its equatorial orbit. On the far side of Mars was a glowing yellow icon representing the Sparrow. Now that the short-range transmitter was in range of the Martian comm satellites, they would get constant updates on its position.

  “Orders?”

  She sat in her chair and crossed her ankles. “Inform the rest of the fleet that we have the target on radar. And get a message to Cole. Track the Sparrow’s heading and try to plot probable destinations. When we have that, we’ll move to intercept.”

  Unfortunately, the Sparrow was nearly thirty thousand kilometers away, with a planet in between. They could perform a series of frameshifts away from Mars and back to close the gap faster, but Logan had quite the head start. It would be better to know where he was going and react accordingly.

  “Ma’am...?” The navigation officer trailed off as if unsure of himself.

  “Out with it, please.”

  “They’re matching orbits with Phobos.”

  MATTHEW SLUNG HIS BAG over his shoulder at the sight of the Imperious Doubt descending through the Martian sky. The sun had just slipped beneath the horizon in Doch Rossiya. Thompson managed to wrangle a permit for the Doubt to set down, briefly, outside the city. HiTO airspace was tightly controlled these days, but that was doubly so in the Russian colony. Abigail joined him at his side. She’d been quiet since they’d left her old broker’s manor. He guessed that despite her betrayal, she was grieving Medvedev’s death.

  “You going to make it?” he asked.

  “I always do,” she said, but then softened. “Thanks for asking. I always sort of knew she was a vicious old woman, but I never quite knew how bad until the end. It doesn’t change that I’m grateful for the things she did for me, but it does poison our relationship. Now I’ll always wonder what part of that was self-serving rather than genuine affection. I saw the look she gave you. I’m sorry about that.”

  Matthew took his hat off and gave it a shake. “If I let everyone that hated me get under my skin, I’d never have a moment’s peace. It’s not your fault.”

  “She tried to have you killed. Nearly did.”

  “And failed, thankfully.”

  The Doubt wheeled around on their position and settled a hundred feet away, blowing a cloud of red dust in their direction. Matthew turned his head away until it settled, and by that time, Thompson had joined them. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open,” the lawman said, “but I expect that Stein won’t risk stepping foot on Mars for some time.”

  Matthew put his hat back on and gave him a nod. “You heading back to Arizona now?”

  “Time to see if I still have a job. I was hoping to have bagged either Stein or Logan as a peace offering before heading back.”

  “We’re still after Logan,” Abigail offered. Matthew raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. “It would be nice to have someone along that can cut red tape.”

  The Doubt’s ramp lowered and Grace ran down. “We’ve got the Sparrow on the tracker!” she shouted. “They just arrived in orbit.”

  Thompson looked at the Doubt, unsure for a long moment, and then slowly shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m going to be of any more use to you.”

  Matthew’s comm buzzed, and he checked it. “It’s ‘Elwa,” He answered the comm. “I’m here.”

  “Are you airborne yet?” she asked. “Because if you’re not, we need you up here now.”

  He frowned and looked at the others. Abigail shrugged, and Thompson kept a poker face. “Davey just landed,” Matthew said. “Has the situation changed?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she said. “The Sparrow has set course for Phobos.”

  And in the space of a heartbeat, Matthew knew Logan’s plan.

  “We’re on our way. Move Lantern Fleet to a safe location as close to Phobos as you deem wise.”

  She acknowledged and cut the call.

  Thompson unclasped his hands from behind his back. “On second thought, I’ll take you up on that offer. As a cabinet member of the Arizonan government, I’d like to observe, and if necessary, advise the Guild of Lantern’s actions in regard to the developing situation in orbit. If I can be of service, I will.”

  “We may need that,” Matthew said. “As soon as we’re aboard, see if you can get a warning to Phobos. And Abigail, you better apologize to Milena. It looks like we’re abandoning her van out in the desert. Let’s move.”

  THE LAST FEW DAYS HAD been hellish aboard the Sparrow. Whitaker’s mood failed to improve. The additional kicks he had received when the destroyed microphone was discovered did nothing to aid that. Yvonne did what she could, but he was a mess. His arm should have been in a sling, and she was certain the injury would only worsen before it could properly be taken care of. Elizabeth mostly kept to herself, though she had a calm certainty that Matthew and the others would find a way to rescue them eventually.

  Yvonne couldn’t quite bring herself to share it. It felt more like a death sentence with an undetermined execution date.

  It had taken nearly three days for a tug to get to them, and then it was still another day before they felt the subtle bump of the frameshift disengaging. “It appears we’re here,” Elizabeth said, sitting up from her bunk.

  “We’ll most likely be back on the Doubt’s tracker,” Whitaker said. He flexed his shoulder, testing its range.

  “I recommend using the fake arm if you’re planning to throw a punch,” Yvonne said.

  “Suggestion noted, though I will pick my fights carefully.”

  Twenty minutes later, Logan himself was at the door to their prison. “Ms. Naude, if you’ll come with me to the cockpit.”

  “Need my help again?”

  “Nothing of the sort,” he said. “I thought you might appreciate the change in perspective.”

  She crossed her arms. “You want someone to gloat to.”

  He laughed and stepped away from the door as one of his men opened it. “Guilty as charged. Now, you will have to remain quiet, so for
that, I’ll apologize in advance.” She jerked as strong arms pulled her from the cell and slipped a gag over her head. She rounded on Logan and made sure her eyes said everything she couldn’t. “Time is short,” he said and pressed her firmly toward the ladder.

  They cuffed her once they made it to the main deck. When she reached the cockpit, her eyes widened. There was no doubt they were over Mars, no surprise. But in front of them hung a silent moon.

  Phobos.

  She kicked Logan and gestured at her gag. He glared at her but got the hint and pulled it down.

  “Are you mad? You’re going to get us all killed! The Phobos Platform is probably the best guarded military installation in the solar system.”

  He pushed the gag back into place. “Don’t insult me. I have no intention of recklessly throwing all of our lives away. Political unrest and the threat of war are useful for the breaking of civilization and long-term goals we’ve achieved in recent months. But President Barclay made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  The comm light pinged. Logan reached across the pilot and flipped it on.

  “Unauthorized vessel, you are entering restricted space. Alter your course immediately or be destroyed.”

  Logan smiled. “This is Matthew Cole,” he said in a fair mimicry of Matthew’s Arizonan accent, “captain of the Sparrow, SPW 5840. I believe I have a standing invitation from President Barclay to visit the Phobos Platform.”

  “Acknowledged, please stand by.”

  Yvonne thrashed, but strong hands pulled her back into the corridor. “Ms. Naude,” Logan said, “please don’t make me remove you from the cockpit. I’m giving you the privilege of seeing the culmination of our work.”

  “SPW-5840,” the comm crackled. “You are authorized for landing. Do not deviate from the course we’re sending to you. A security team will meet you in the hangar to give further instruction.”

  “Appreciate it,” Logan said. “We look forward to the full tour. Send the President my warmest regards and let him know he’ll hear from me soon.”