A Memory in the Black (The New Aeneid Cycle)

by Michael G. Munz

  "Brave of you," Diomedes grunted. "Stupid, too." The kid should know better than to pass up a chance to get a gun off of him. Yet Michael wasn't intimidated either. Even as that frustrated him, Diomedes had to admire it. He wouldn't have gotten intimidated either.

  "Yeah, well, I'm glad you approve," Michael grumbled. Sarcasm.

  "Whatever. Who tipped you?"

  "You tipped us. A long time ago. You took me here. You were using it for storage, you told me Silas used to live there."

  Diomedes remembered. He had shown him. You shouldn't have trusted Michael then. Came back to bite you again, didn't it?

  Maybe, maybe not.

  "You remember Silas, then," Diomedes said.

  The kid took his time speaking next. "It took me a while to think of that place. We got lucky finding it. But yeah. You were always talking about him. Back on the farm, the stories you'd tell. Do you remember that?"

  The farm.

  Is there anyone left that you've known as long as Michael? Have you forgotten?

  He'd told the kid about Silas. Back when there were stories he wanted to tell. "But you never met him," Diomedes said. It wasn't a question. Michael had found him again in Northgate after. . . everything else.

  "Nope," the kid answered, and then turned to face forward. "But you did tell me he'd lived there."

  "Shouldn't have. You led those two to me."

  "I didn't mean to."

  "Meant to or not, you screwed up!"

  Michael spun around so fast that Diomedes nearly fired. "Look, I didn't put the damned bounty on your head, so don't get—" He stopped suddenly, just watching.

  Diomedes stared back at him for a time before going on. "You find out about the bounty before or after you came looking?" Dumb question. That's why they're here, don't fool yourself.

  "Before," Michael admitted. See? "But we're not here to collect, I told you."

  "Then you're looking to sell me out."

  "I'm not telling anyone where you are," Michael insisted. "I don't know just how much you saw back there, but if we'd wanted to sell you out we threw a great opportunity!"

  "Maybe." He didn't bother to disguise his skepticism. "Maybe it's a set-up. You turned on me. Didn't want anything to do with me after all I'd taught you, given you. Then there's a price on my head and you just turn up. So why are you here? Tell me. Something that doesn't make you a liar."

  Michael swallowed and glanced to the driver. If he doesn't say anything, you'll know he's playing you. Outside, buildings were getting fewer and fewer. Davis Avenue became Highway 17 as it left Northgate. More isolated, fewer witnesses. Plenty of spots to dump a body or two.

  You're running out of bridges to burn.

  "Because we think the same people who hired you are after us," Michael said finally.

  Marc shot a look to Michael and tried badly to cover it. The kid had let something slip. Diomedes stared Michael down. It had always made the kid talk a little more. This time he just turned away. Again, brave.

  "Then why come to me?" Diomedes asked. "Same people as hired me are after you, maybe I'd just kill you for them. You're being stupid, coming here."

  Michael continued to watch the road. "You're in hiding. You're alone. If they cared about you at this point, I'd guess they wouldn't have hung you out to dry, right?"

  "Oh, you just think you know it all."

  "Am I wrong?"

  "My gun, my questions. Who's after you?"

  Michael shook his head. "Well, if we knew that we wouldn't have tried to find you. Who hired you?"

  "That's crap. You don't know who they are but they're the same as who hired me? That's crap, kid." An exit was on the road ahead, leading into the dark. "Take that turn." Marc had the sense to do as he was told.

  "Diomedes," Michael said, "we've got suspicions. That's all."

  Diomedes glared. Suspicions? "Fine. Who do you suspect is after you?"

  Even in the fading light he could see the kid was sweating. "You're the one who always tried to teach me not to give away what I know for free. I was paying attention to you then, you know."

  "Should've taught you not to pull a gun on me in the middle of a stand-off!" Damn right! "Or have you changed your mind about that?"

  Michael didn't answer.

  "You don't trust me," Diomedes told him. That was it, then.

  He doesn't trust you. You can't even think of trusting him! He doesn't really want your help. It has to be a trick, you know it is.

  We're almost there.

  They were almost there. Soon the road would turn along a high embankment covered in scrub brush. It would be over then. Yet even as he thought it, he could feel the tug of the little whisper preparing to delay him.

  Michael needs your help. You need his. He doesn't have to trust you to ask for help. You've worked with people you didn't like before; you didn't trust Felix Hiatt but you asked for his help finding Fagles.

  Which got you nowhere! Hiatt wouldn't help you, you found Fagles yourself! You don't need help from anyone!

  The voices went off to argue, and he was on his own again.

  The road slipped on beneath them until Michael broke the silence. "I used to trust you, you know." He turned back around. "On the farm, you were the one who looked out for me. When I came here, you protected me, helped me adjust to the city."

  "You wouldn't shut up about it until I did. You talked me into it."

  "Maybe you let yourself be talked into it."

  "Maybe that was a mistake!"

  Yes, sentiment. You thought someone from your past would shield you from more change? Look where it got you!

  Michael turned away again—pouting, Diomedes thought, like a weakling. "Well, maybe it was, then," Michael said. "But maybe you just had some loyalty to the past. Yeah, I used to trust you. Because you used to seem to give a crap."

  Diomedes was no longer looking at him, watching instead the yellow lines on the road. "Whatever."

  "Yeah, maybe you never cared," Michael said. "I don't know why you helped me. Maybe everything I saw in you really was a lie."

  "I don't care what you think," Diomedes muttered. Even as he did so, he couldn't help but recall the words she'd said that echoed Michael's, and the memory of another night, years past, forced its way into his mind.

  He watches her tear the wrapping paper, enjoying the sight of her delicate hands breaking through ribbon and tape to get at the box inside. "Happy birthday, Janette," he tells her.

  She stops long enough to smile at him with a delight that no one has ever quite shined on him before her. "Thank you, Malcolm."

  He returns her smile, feeling foolish for it and yet not caring. There's no one there to see it but her. "You don't even know what it is yet."

  "I told you, sweetie, it doesn't matter what it is. You remembered, and I'm thrilled."

  "Hard not to remember." He grins. "You gave hints for a month."

  "Well, we've only been together nine months, it's not fair not to give you hints. Nudges. Brilliant neon signs." She giggles with a wink.

  "Open it anyway. You'll like it."

  She smiles again in that way that makes him surprised that she's his, and opens the box. "Oh, my god."

  He smiles as she lifts the necklace. "Those are real diamonds."

  "Oh, my god," she repeats. "It's beautiful! But how did you. . .?"

  ". . . afford it on a security guard's salary? Saved. Shopped. Came into some money."

  "That wasn't what I—" She takes her blue eyes off of the necklace as worry begins to fill them. "Came into some money?"

  "Uh huh."

  "Malcolm, came into some money how?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "Yes, it matters. How?"

  "Janette, just try it on."

  Her smile is gone completely, her face hardened. "Did you get this from your brother? Did you steal this with your brother?"

  He stands and snatches up the box but manages not to throw it across the room. "I told you it doesn't ma
tter! Would you just put it on?"

  "I don't want to put it on! Malcolm, you told me you were done with that!"

  "Two times, Janette! Just two times, and you go all frantic!"

  "I don't care! You said you were going to stop!"

  "Come on, it was just a little—"

  "I won't be with a thief!"

  "And how the hell else am I supposed to do it?" he yells. "You're dropping hints all over! What am I supposed to do?"

  "Not for this!" she shakes the necklace at him through starting tears. "Not for something stolen! A rose, a card, just something from you! I grew up with money, I don't need that from you!"

  He reels on her. "Because I can't afford it, right? Because you know I can't possibly be worth that much!"

  "That's not what I mean!" She drops the necklace to the floor.

  "You pick that up!" he roars, doing it for her.

  She glares through tears as she takes a step back from him. "I never cared about how much you made, Malcolm—or how much you could give me. I loved you! Because you were good to me, because you were different! And because you cared more about living life than making money! But it was just an illusion, wasn't it? You're turning into your brother." She swallows. "Everything I saw in you was a lie."

  "Janette," he starts, one fist clenched around the necklace. "I did this for you."

  She turns away. "You won't stop stealing, and you lied about it again! I can't trust you, can I?"

  "Damn it, don't turn your back on me!" He wrenches her around before he can think about it.

  She pushes his hand of her shoulder, but it's the pain in her eyes that breaks his grip. "Get out, Malcom!"

  He holds her gaze, wanting to plead with her for another chance. "I—" is all she lets him say.

  "Just get out!"

  He throws the necklace against the wall and does as she asks, slamming the door behind him.

  "Everything I saw in you was a lie."

  The back of Michael's head was silhouetted against the purple sky out the window. Diomedes considered the possibility that the kid was telling the truth.

  It's another chance.

  Another chance to be made a fool of.

  Help him!

  Kill him!

  "Everything I saw in you was a lie."

  The past, the present, the voices, he couldn't think with all the noise! Too much noise! Diomedes smashed the gun against the window beside him to clear it. Marc cursed. Michael jumped and spun around. Diomedes aimed for him instantly.

  "Stop the car," he ordered.

  A moment later, the tires had rumbled over the gravel and come to a stop. "Get out. Both of you. Leave the keys."

  They did so. Diomedes followed, gun still held on the kid.

  Don't do it.

  Do it!

  He turned on Marc. "Get on the shoulder. Next to him." The road was deserted. They were on the edge of a ravine. Michael, the one named Marc, and himself.

  "What are we doing here, Diomedes?" The kid was watching him. Tense. Alert.

  Afraid.

  No.

  Yes!

  Help them!

  Diomedes was alone in the car and driving back to Northgate when Fagles called.

  CHAPTER 23

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  Begin report.

  Expansion of the ESA zone of control into the large chamber discovered by CPO Levy and myself continues. On my order, scanning and defensive equipment have been moved into the chamber to create an ESA presence, though this order was given under ESA pressure. I believe that the recent "near-leak" caused by the hacker team has increased the urgency of ESA's timetable. I recommend that the AoA escalate to match.

  Regarding the status of the chamber itself, at this time I believe it to be reasonably secured against any possible drone attack, though the quantity of unknown factors inside the chamber prohibit a declaration of complete safety. Additionally, the communications bubble that hampered previous exploration is no longer active, having dropped shortly after the chamber's opening to space. The reasons behind this are, as yet, unknown.

  It has been hypothesized that the apparent isolation of the black material within the chamber from black material elsewhere in Paragon (as evidenced by a lack of function prior to our entrance and subsequent activation via the blue "touch pad") is due to the fact that the material in the chamber is of a separate and possibly self-contained system, akin to a terminal on an isolated network. Should this be the case, study of material in the chamber may yield information unattainable elsewhere. Evidence to test this hypothesis is insufficient at this time.

  The remarkable field membrane that covers the chamber opening continues to hold. It allows the passage of solid objects while containing the interior atmosphere. The lack of any additional power output across the membrane has led ESA engineers to postulate that it is indeed a natural property of the black material found throughout the ship, though it is clearly in a state altered from what we have previously encountered. Detailed scans are attached to this message. Recommend analysis of how this may affect current attempts to replicate the material.

  The purpose of the large device at the center of the chamber remains unknown.

  We continue to be reliant on the membrane to retain atmosphere in the chamber. As such, crewmembers remain suited at all times as a precaution. All attempts to close the hatch on the opening have been unsuccessful. With the justification that such measures hinder working conditions, I have advised the Space Agency to provide materials to create an airlock large enough to accommodate the opening. As such materials are not currently available on-site at Omicron, their delivery will likely provide an opportunity for covert transfer of further AoA equipment and, if possible, personnel. In the interim, a rudimentary camouflage is in place to conceal the opening from extra-lunar surveillance.

  ESA's next objective will be to identify the purpose of the chamber. A direct, non-human interface with Omicron is being suggested to avoid further loss of life. I am unable to gauge the success of such an attempt, but must restate my previous position of advancing the takeover timeline.

  Please advise on the complement of any incoming shipments or alterations of plan. An update on the status of Agent Triton is also requested.

  End report.

  Clasped hands tapping her chin, Marette searched the report for items she might have omitted. Events were swiftly moving to a head. She considered underscoring the need for a complete AoA takeover before things became uncontainable, but such a reemphasis was likely unnecessary. That she had said it twice was enough. Everything appeared complete.

  She examined the last line and frowned. Perhaps it was too complete. Marette erased the query about Marc and sent the report before she could reconsider.

  CHAPTER 24

  Felix tipped the cab driver, closed the door, and then turned to find Caitlin walking toward him as the cab crunched a retreat back down the gravel of her house's quarter-mile driveway. She wore a gentle smile that reassured Felix that, for the moment, nothing was too wrong.

  Unless, he decided, she was hiding some unpleasant news for later. He took the few remaining steps toward her where they kissed a greeting a discreet distance from the door. His first goal was to make sure she was okay. If so, then he'd be eager to chase down the truth of what happened to Gideon.

  "Hullo, Felix. I'm glad you made it alright."

  "It's good to see you. He still here?"

  She nodded. "Inside."

  "I'm surprised you brought him here." He didn't have to point out what she herself had told him in the past: that her house was her sanctuary from the rigors of the city.

  "I'm a little surprised, myself. But it's more secluded than anywhere in Northgate. My landlord's is the closest house; that's half a mile away and he's on vacation. I couldn't just turn him away. I can't run from this, Felix
. Not a second time."

  "I wasn't second guessing you," Felix assured her with a smile. He stopped short of confessing that he'd wished she'd waited for him to catch up before coming there. "You're doing alright, then?"

  "As much as is to be expected. I wanted to come out to see you alone before we went inside, but I don't feel threatened. Gideon's little more than confused and scared right now. He reminds me of last year when Drake had a hoof infection and the vet had to keep him off the ground in a harness. Both are strong creatures who don't completely understand what's happened to them. I'm treating him carefully."

  "Think we should try feeding him some apples and sugar cubes?"

  Caitlin rewarded the measly joke with a smile. "How did I know you'd say that, ducks?"

  Before he could think of a good response, a brush at the side of Felix's leg momentarily sidetracked his attention to the black cat sliding up against him. "Well hey, Lucifer," he said, kneeling to pet him.

  "Oh, yes, you show for Felix but not for me?" Caitlin scolded affectionately. "Furry little git."

  "I'm getting popular tonight." Lucifer allowed him a quick stroke before having enough and dashing back into the darkness. "Someone tried to follow me here. Gave him the slip midway, don't worry."

  "I won't, then. Though I expect Gideon will need some assurance."

  "Then he's still the same old Gideon? Enraged tirades against the violence and 'filth' in the city?"

  "Honestly, Felix, that's one way he seems better. He's confused, and yes, sometimes rather random, but those moments of rage are missing. At least that I've seen."

  "What do you suppose that means?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know." Caitlin began to stroll back toward the house, bringing Felix with her. "Marquand did something to him. He seems fairly certain that his sister was involved."

  "His sister?"

  "Ondrea. I thought I'd told you."

  "Pretty sure I'd have remembered that." It made sense though, somehow. Did that make things more or less complicated? "She offered to pay me if I told her where he was. Did he say what he thinks they did to him?"

  They strode up the porch steps to Caitlin's door. "If you come inside, I'll show you."