A Memory in the Black (The New Aeneid Cycle)

by Michael G. Munz

  No, that was crazy, wasn't it? He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus. Gideon was on Earth. For now, he had a job to do. He pulled out the signal rod that would shut down the nanopoison and checked to see if it had been used. If they found the access cards, they probably found the rod, too.

  "What's that?" Michael asked.

  "None of your business, that's what." A quick check showed the poison was still active. If they'd found it, they didn't know what it did. They were still clueless. He put it back in his pocket, not entirely sure what to think about that.

  CHAPTER 37

  She shouldn't be doing this, Ondrea scolded herself. She knew she shouldn't be doing this.

  She walked beside Gideon on the top level of Sunrise Station's main concourse as he looked out the windows to one side and at the people to the other. She'd tried to steer him to a less-populated area on one of the lower decks, but he insisted on coming here. It was the top level, where four stories' worth of open space rose above them and food and gift shops lined the inner wall opposite windows separating them all from the vacuum of space. People everywhere. A part of her thought the people would possibly even help to put him at ease; the other part was just afraid to argue with him more than she had to.

  He'd needed to go out, again, getting increasingly agitated and disoriented. He'd simultaneously needed to go "look for Isaac" and been impatient to start the lunar mission. The only thing she could think of was to appease him: try to satisfy that need somehow in the hope that it would calm his mind and let him focus on what he needed to do before she could manage a more permanent fix.

  As the minutes ticked away, the fear that he didn't have enough time took an increasing hold on her heart. There was another way, but Marquand would destroy her if she went that route, and possibly Gideon along with her.

  Gideon stopped walking to stare out the windows to their right. A pair of patrolling security guards had to step around him where he'd stopped, but they gave no real protest. "Isaac's long dead, Ondrea," Gideon whispered. "Why are we looking for him?"

  The utter lack of a good answer to that stymied her. "I don't know, Gid. You just wanted to go for a walk before you got to the Moon. C'mon, we should go back now."

  Gideon fixed her with a far-away stare. "Who is Joseph Curwen?"

  She didn't think fast enough to hide her shock, but her phone beeped before he could answer. Though half glad for the distraction, she soured at its source. Tseng.

  "Hang on, Gid." She answered and bit off a greeting. "What?"

  "All lack of courtesy aside, Ondrea, just what do you think you're doing?"

  Goddammit! Beck called Tseng? She turned from Gideon in a futile attempt at privacy. "Sir, I don't know what Beck told you, but there's no reason the problem should affect the project."

  "The problem? What problem?"

  Oh, hell. "Sir, maybe I misunderstood. Why are you calling?"

  "I'm calling because I checked with D.K. and he said you took him out for another stroll before zero hour! What's this about a problem?"

  "It's nothing, sir, as I said, just a—"

  "If I call Beck, will he say it's nothing? You're hiding something, Ondrea. If you think you're going to—"

  "I'm not hiding anything." Ondrea took a breath to hide the pounding of her heart. "It's just going to take one or two more adjustments than we'd planned."

  "And those adjustments require walks through crowded public areas?"

  Searching for her next words, Ondrea glanced behind her. "Oh, damn it."

  Gideon was gone.

  Eyes tuned to thermal imaging, Diomedes gazed through the wall of the compartment as bodies passed back and forth beyond. When the area was clear, he nodded to Michael. "Go."

  The kid opened the compartment door and scrambled out before calling for Marc to follow. Diomedes was on his own way out a moment later, squeezing through the opening on his back and rolling to his feet as soon as possible. Two travelers rounded the nearest corner immediately afterward, but gave no sign of alarm. They were out; now they had to make the shuttle. Diomedes gathered his bearings and picked a direction.

  "This way," he ordered.

  Diomedes led the way down the corridor, soon spotting a sign directing them up to the main concourse. From there they would get an elevator to one of the flight decks along the station's axis. Pick up Marc's bag from the locker he was whining about needing. A short walk to the shuttle from there, and they'd be bound for the Moon. He checked to see if anyone was watching or following. So far, so good.

  "End of the line for you once we get to the shuttle, kid," he reminded him. "Just Marc and me after that."

  "I'd like to at least see if I can fit," Michael argued. Again. That he was currently tagging along to see them off at the shuttle at all was a concession Diomedes made at the last minute when the kid had bugged him about it in the compartment. It was a bad idea, and it made it harder to keep him from coming any further. Diomedes shouldn't have allowed it.

  Maybe it was because Michael didn't ditch him earlier. He could have. He should have. It's what he would have done himself: taken the access cards and gone. Damn kid missed his chance, and why did that piss him off so much?

  You don't like remorse, do you?

  "There's no room," Diomedes told him again. "No more to say about it."

  "You said you don't even know what kind of shuttle it is. So I guess we'll see."

  They made their way to the main concourse. The place was filled with people under a high ceiling that rose all the way up to the rotation axis of the station. "Shut up about it while we're in the crowd," he ordered, and then led them toward the elevators. Their transparent shafts rose above the crowd against the inner wall. Just a little further.

  He didn't like this place. This spot. Something about it made his stomach twist. They were walking through a section set lower than the rest—what amounted to a divot in the deck, bordered ahead and behind them by other escalators that angled further up to connect the area with the rest of the deck that continued on a higher level. Railings lined the edges of that higher level. A few people loitered along the railings.

  No, not a divot. A pit. The perfect place for an ambush. He pushed faster toward the elevators that would take him out and to the flight decks. He wasn't really expecting an ambush, but he disliked the position anyway. Too vulnerable.

  There was too much to worry about lately. So many nets out to catch him. Bounty hunters, Gideon, the blond woman, Fagles. But it would be over soon, if he pulled things off.

  He'd been wanted before, but never so exposed. Too much had changed, changed for the worse like it always did. Damn it, why did he tell the kid about Silas? He'd lost Silas, Janette, and others who—if they were still around—would probably give him up for the bounty that was on his head ever since the blond woman turned on him.

  He was so damned tired of change. Was it so fucking much to ask that something stay constant?

  Ondrea's phone was off and in her pocket without another word to Tseng before she spotted Gideon thirty feet away. He stood by an escalator leading down to a lower section in the deck beyond. She rushed to him as he gazed out over the railing.

  "Gid, please don't wander off like that. C'mon, we need to get back now." If they could make it back before Tseng got hold of Beck. . .

  But then what?

  Instead of answering, Gideon lifted an arm to point out over the low section to the railing on the opposite side. "It's them." Looking at where he pointed, she spotted two familiar figures just getting on the down escalator opposite her and Gideon's position.

  If Michael dies—if you kill him—that will be another change, won't it? The small voice repeated the question. It grew louder as the transparent elevator doors closed.

  It's already a change, he thought, fighting the idea, though it felt like a losing battle. Diomedes forced his attention to the crowd below as the elevator began to take the three of them upwards. Not much time now.

  You d
o this right and he'll trust you again.

  No.

  Turn off the poison. He doesn't have to know. Let him come to the Moon. You know Fagles will try to screw you anyway. Let Michael back in.

  It's not that easy!

  You've got a choice: face your fear or deal with the change.

  He didn't want to think about it. It was at that moment he caught sight of the man below with a start, a familiar figure by the railing overlooking the pit out of which they were rising:

  Gideon!

  He was following, tracking him! Here? Even here? No! The large voice swept him up in a storm of panicked rage: Kill him! Kill him now! While you still have the shot!

  Diomedes ripped his weapon out of his coat with one hand and shoved Michael back with the other. "Get down! Now!"

  Ondrea stepped between Gideon and the railing for a better look at the man and woman at which Gideon had pointed. It was definitely them, though she could hardly believe it. "They followed us?"

  Gunshots exploded from above, and pain tore through her before she could say more. Fighting against shock, she barely felt her brother yank her aside and down to the floor.

  Michael had just enough time to grab Marc and pull him to the floor of the elevator. He didn't know what was happening or why, only that Diomedes had gone berserk and was firing an auto-pistol through the now-shattered elevator glass down into the crowd below. His instinct to protect Marc widened to the rest of the people below. Even if Diomedes didn't hit anyone, if the bullets pierced the exterior of the station—

  His move to stand again and somehow stop it all got cut short as sizzling bursts of dark red flung into the elevator at Diomedes. Michael threw himself back to the floor and tried to shield Marc.

  Someone was firing back.

  Diomedes cursed as his first volley hit the blonde when she stepped in front of his target. Gideon grabbed her and tried to shield her with his own body. You won't miss this time! Empty it into him!

  He switched the weapon to full-auto as people scattered below. Only Gideon mattered. He took aim again and fired. The gun's violence bucked in his hand. Even with his artificial arm he had to fight to keep it on target as recoil and rage shook through him. Bullets scattered about Gideon. Had any hit? Diomedes wished for a rifle and cursed that he wasn't closer.

  Then daggers of fire punched through him out of nowhere. He was shot?! Only for a moment did he see the station security forces scattered across the area below, thermal rifles pointed, all firing. He screamed soundlessly, unable even to move out of the way. Pain flared through him.

  Everything burned.

  He saw it all then: Gideon still covering the woman's body. Michael yelling something as Marc lay flat. He saw the guards below, still firing energy into him that cooked his flesh and blinded one eye. When their last bolt hit, it was as if he could see himself fall backward and useless. Beaten. Destroyed. When his body crashed onto the floor of the elevator, he didn't know where his gun had gone.

  Odd that he no longer cared.

  So fast, he was dying. He was alone. Even with the other two there, he was alone. Michael, still shielding Marc, was watching him, saying something that Diomedes couldn't hear. Quiet, so quiet. Even the voices, large and small, were gone. The bolts had stopped. The elevator was dropping. He saw Michael move closer. He was going for the access cards—no, not the cards, but checking his wounds. It was pointless. Diomedes could hardly breathe. He burned inside.

  Diomedes watched Michael—the man Diomedes once was, he realized, maybe the man he might have been—make his futile effort to save him. Diomedes fumbled into his pocket and drew out the nanopoison signal rod and the cards in one handful. They weren't hit, but there wasn't much time now. Things were going dark, and Michael was becoming just a shape in a field of green.

  All so quickly.

  He found the kid's hand and pressed the items into his grip. His vision faded. "There's a poison," he struggled to whisper, "in your blood. Use the rod. . . code 0909. Maybe I shouldn't have done it. Doesn't matter now. . . Sorry."

  Then Michael faded completely.

  He hadn't even finished Gideon. He couldn't even do that much. The others must have been right about the man, and he no longer had the strength to care. Death was a change he could deal with, he realized, mostly because he was sure now that he wouldn't remember. It ought to piss him off, and in the distance he did see himself lying there, pissed off and dying. What a joke: Diomedes the Eternally Pissed.

  His last thought, ever, was that Fagles was probably just as screwed as he was. Were Diomedes able, he would have laughed.

  CHAPTER 38

  Michael knelt beside Diomedes and strained to hear as his former mentor pressed the access cards and the strange rod device into his grip. Even without seeing Diomedes's wounds, the gesture held an unmistakable air of finality. Everything had happened so rapidly and Michael was still reeling, struggling for what to do or say. Michael pocketed the items and tried to make out what the dying man was whispering.

  Moments later, after the life left Diomedes's eyes, the elevator came to a stop.

  "What'd he say?" Marc asked just before the guards rushed forward.

  "I don't know." Michael shook his head. "I couldn't hear."

  CHAPTER 39

  Ondrea was going to kill him, Beck thought, if the doctors were right that she'd live. What kind of psycho pulls a gun on a space station and just starts shooting? She'd called Beck with just enough strength to whisper where she was and that she'd been shot—enough to let him and D.K. find her as they were rushing her to the station's infirmary.

  Gideon was with her, babbling like a madman about someone named Isaac and talking about Felix Hiatt and the woman Caitlin like he'd just seen them. Wherever he thought he was, his memory was breaking, and with Ondrea shot it was enough to make Beck tell Mr. Tseng everything. That, and the fact that Mr. Tseng nearly bit his head off right through the screen demanding answers.

  The old man wasted no time ordering them to sacrifice Gideon's engrams to save the ones they needed. It was a shame that keeping them both hadn't worked, but that was over now. With Ondrea shot, Mr. Tseng told him more about the project's timeline. There was no way for "Gideon" to survive before he got back. Ondrea would skin Beck alive if she pulled through—if Mr. Tseng didn't can her first.

  Hell, maybe the old man would can him too, once this was over, even if he was just following Ondrea's orders. It wasn't his fault! All he could do now was make sure the project succeeded.

  D.K. had helped Beck subdue Gideon so he could make the adjustments. Now the two watched the shuttle carrying Gideon's container leave for the Moon.

  "Well," D.K. said, "Now we wait."

  Beck nodded. It would be days before Gideon would return. Gideon. They would need to find something else to call him. From everything Ondrea said, Beck didn't think he'd remember enough to think he was anyone at all unless they told him. Poor Ondrea. She'd lost the same brother twice now, hadn't she?

  A bead of sweat ran down his back. Beck wished to God he didn't have to be the one to tell her.

  If someone told Felix a month ago that he would witness a shootout on Sunrise Station before the month was out, he'd have— Actually, Felix figured he probably just would've offered to buy the person lunch just to hear the story.

  It took a lot fewer things than a company forcibly extracting an experimentally augmented, formerly-dead man from his girlfriend's house to sustain his curiosity. Even so, once he and Caitlin managed to half-follow, half-trace them to an orbital flight, he likely needed all of those details to make him buy a ticket with Caitlin that would let them follow. He'd hesitated—it wasn't exactly bus fare—but not for very long. Caitlin had a need to go after them, likely propelled by both concern for Gideon and simple anger at the invasion of her home, and that was enough to persuade Felix.

  Besides, experimentally augmented formerly-dead guy, here. Caitlin's involvement really only served to make it a no-brainer.


  Caitlin returned to where Felix sat waiting for Marc and Flynn to be released. Her eyes were downcast, her frown twisted in frustration. "I went and lost him, Felix."

  He gave a sympathetic smile, unable to think of what to say before she went on.

  "I followed them as far as the infirmary. They took Ondrea into surgery, but in the confusion I lost Gideon. I think he went in with his sister but they wouldn't let me follow. I didn't see him leave, but by the time I managed a way in, there wasn't any sign of him." She slumped down into the chair beside him. "Ondrea herself will be all right. Or so I heard. I don't know quite what's become Gideon, only that these two blokes were talking about him having left already."

  "They say where?"

  "They didn't. Not while I was eavesdropping, anyway. And don't think I didn't consider trying to get it out of them directly, but there wasn't any chance. I do know where they're staying here, though I don't know that it will do us much good. If he went somewhere from here, I expect it will be much harder to follow."

  She massaged her temples with one hand, looking defeated. "I did manage to hear that they'd be waiting for him to come back—and before you ask, I get the impression that it was at least a day, if not more. So I decided to come back here, check in with you, and perhaps apologize for taking you along on a wild goose chase—"

  "You don't need to apologize for that," he said, shaking his head. He was poised to say more when she cut him off with a hand to his mouth.

  "—despite," she continued with traces of a smile, "your assurance that you wished to go anyway."

  "Well, still, it has been interesting."

  She chuckled softly at that. "Ducks, you threw up in orbit and we both could've been killed earlier today."

  "Ah, you know. Life experience?"

  "Speaking of which, Marc and Michael still in there, I suppose?"