That hadn't happened.
He squeezed past the car, taking special care to protect the doorframe, and reached the trailer. It was locked, but not sealed. He set the doorframe gently upon the cool concrete surface of the garage and opened the two-panel top of the trailer. After wriggling the satchel off his shoulders and setting the bag atop the assorted supplies already inside, he lifted the doorframe and set it inside the trailer atop everything else. He grabbed an oddly marked, oversized spray can and pressed the button, aiming the fluid inside the trailer. The fluid expanded upon contact with the supplies, creating a padded though solid bit of shock absorption between the various items inside. He tossed the can aside and flipped the twin doors shut and turned a key lodged on the side. He heard various releases of air as the interior of the trailer sealed shut.
Jamison moved back to the door leading inside the house and punched the button activating the door lift for the trailer. He moved back to the trailer and lifted the hitch, moving toward the growing gap between door bottom and garage floor. Once the gap grew large enough, Jamison rolled the trailer outside. He secured the trailer hitch to its mate on the back of his car and tested the connection three times, satisfying himself that the link remained secured.
It would do him no good to reach his destination and find he'd left the trailer behind.
Jamison retreated toward the garage and punched in a code outside the opened door, watching as it dropped back to the ground. He glanced around quickly to ensure no spare equipment or debris would prevent the door from closing, habit preventing him from ignoring the activity when the structure would suffer its fate all too soon. Jamison took two steps back away from the door, ensuring it completed its closing act before whirling to move the car.
He stopped before his face hit the barrel of the gun pointed at him, and his eyes focused on the frantic face of the man with his finger poised over the trigger.
“Hand over the keys, mister.”
—————
RODDY LIGHT
—————
RODDY'S HAND REMAINED POISED ABOVE the handle of the door to the cockpit, and he felt his eyes widening and pulse quicken. He hadn't changed the autopilot course yet. They should remain on an upward path with no change in trajectory. The change in course was too sudden and firm to come from the navigation system and engines on this craft in any event. Unless, of course, the ship had even more surprises hidden from its pilot.
He slid the rolling chair back to his instrument panels and scanned for the information he needed.
Confirmation.
The auto-pilot had not changed course without his approval. It still showed a path intended to drive the craft on a straight line up from the surface, which meant Oswald Silver hadn't overridden the course Roddy had entered earlier. Unless the craft would hide the overrides from him. But even then, even if Silver had diverted them, it didn't explain the suddenness of their change in direction.
What in the hell was going on with his ship?
Still puzzling over the maddening developments on the flight--and still stinging from those before they'd left the surface--Roddy grabbed the yolk of the craft and tried to steer the ship back to the original course.
The yolk moved and the readouts showed the thrusters firing. The craft responded to his commands. But, despite his efforts, their revised course hadn't changed in even the slightest manner. He felt his pulse race. Something pulled the craft along that new path, something with a power greater even than gravity. This new power completely negated the full power of his craft's engines. Roddy was at the mercy of whatever snared him.
Roddy had no idea what that power might be. But he suspected Oswald Silver knew what it was, why it had grabbed them... and where it might be taking them. His boss seemed to enjoy the journey, in spite of--or, perhaps, because of--his pilot's discomfort.
With nothing better to do, Roddy leaned back in his chair and looked out the view screen. In the distance, he saw tens of thousands of stars, orbs glowing brightly at distances incomprehensible to him. He wondered if any of those stars supported life and, if so, if there might be a pilot in orbit around that distant world facing a situation as confusing as the one Roddy now faced.
One of those distant stars grew with each passing minute. Roddy leaned forward. If the star grew, it wasn't a star. It was something far closer, and likely far smaller. A few minutes later, the craft shuddered and shifted course ever so slightly. The path now seemed certain. That dot, whatever it might be, would serve as their destination.
The shape became more defined as the craft moved closer. The center of the dot turned dark, open to the emptiness of space, and as the shape continued growing, Roddy realized the target was ring-shaped, rather than a solid circle or sphere as originally suggested by the dot. The ring continued its growth, continued to reveal more about its shape. Roddy could now see that the surface of the ring also curved. It was similar in structure to a steering wheel on ground cars, or a piece of rope looped to make a circle. The surface of this wheel was comparably larger than that of a steering wheel, a thick perimeter around a relatively smaller center opening. He saw a smaller sphere inside the ring. Crossbeams stretched across the interior of the ring surface to the center sphere, much like the spokes on bicycle tires.
Whatever the structure might be, its size dwarfed that of the Lakeplex and all other cityplexes Roddy had visited. His mind boggled at the levels of technological advancement required for its construction.
His sense of awe and amazement overwhelmed his sense of fear.
Whoever or whatever had built this built the machine that pulled his ship along against its pilot's will. The beings responsible for this massive structure in space could kill him in an instant. In recognizing he no longer controlled his own life, in accepting that his fate was no longer in his hands, Roddy felt a deep sense of freedom. He could watch and marvel as the journey and the destination unfolded before him, rather than seeking threats and planning evasive maneuvers or counterattacks.
He wondered if Oswald Silver had likewise accepted his fate.
Roddy frowned. No, that wouldn't be the case. After all, Silver had ordered their vertical course alteration, knowing full well that this ship's structural and environmental controls could handle the excessive altitudes. He'd known the craft contained design features for zero gravity movement. No, this was no surprise to Oswald Silver. Roddy frowned again. That could only mean one thing.
Silver had made this journey before. And the experience hadn't deterred him from a return trip.
The ship continued floating toward... what would he call it? It made no sense to call their target a ship given the size. It seemed almost like a small planet. Well, not that big. Perhaps an orbiting satellite or moon? No, still too big. If this ship would dock there, as seemed likely, then it would function as a port for ships. This port was located in outer space though. A space port? Roddy shrugged. Space port. That worked for him.
As he neared the surface, Roddy finally got a true sense of the size of the space port. The main portion of the Lakeplex would fit inside the outer ring of the space port, and the ring itself was nearly a half mile thick. The sheer size of it gave him chills.
How had they built something this size and transported it into space? Or had they traveled into space with raw materials and built it there? He hoped he'd learn the answer one day. Assuming he survived his first encounter.
He watched on the view screen as a gap opened in the outer wall of the space port, and the force that pulled the ship along guided the craft through the opening inside. Roddy breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the port. Everything looked to be built for humans. He frowned. Or at least that's how it looked in this portion of the port.
He felt a thud and reverberations as the craft settled down.
“Ship in docking bay AA-23, identify yourself and provide your passenger manifest. Over.”
Roddy slammed back into his seat, surprised.
There w
ere people living here?
He located his radio and realized he wasn't quite certain what to say. With nothing clever, he opted for truth and simplicity. “Hi. This is Roddy Light, with Oswald Silver aboard.” He paused, before realizing he needed to let them know he'd finished. “Um... over.”
There was a pause, and then Roddy noticed movement outside the ship on the view screen. A long tube, roughly eight feet in diameter, extended out from the wall toward the craft.
“Captain Light, welcome. Please power down your craft. We'll confirm attachment of the entry chute momentarily, at which point you may open the cabin door. We're closing the outer doors and activating gravity and atmosphere inside your docking bay. Stand by.”
Entry chute? Roddy's eyes trailed back to the view screen and the tube extending toward his ship. That made sense. They'd move through the tube and into the main body of the space port, doing so in the event that the docking bay--currently opened to outer space with no breathable air and no gravity--didn't completely seal.
He gulped. He'd be entering the main body of the space port soon. He wondered what he'd find. And if he'd ever leave.
He felt his weight return and didn't bother questioning how; the space port had pulled his ship in and landed it for him, so why question how they'd activate gravity around him? He unstrapped from his seat and stood up, stretched his legs and back briefly, and then moved out of the cockpit, down the winding staircase, and into the main cabin, en route to the cabin door.
Oswald Silver stood there, looking healthier than Roddy had ever seen him, as if he'd suddenly turned twenty-five years younger. He moved with a spring in his step, as if gravity still didn't exist on this ship. Space ship. Space port. He saw Roddy and his face curled in the familiar smirk. “Mind blown yet, Light?” He snickered.
“I... I suppose so, sir.”
Silver roared with laughter. “Not every day you figure out we've got space stations out here beyond the planet's atmosphere, is it?”
Roddy fixed him with a stare. “You've been here before, haven't you?”
“Of course. Regularly. All part of the Phoenix Project.”
“The... what?”
Silver clapped him on the back. “I'll explain everything, my boy. The whole world's changing down there. We'll all enjoy our time in the station while it happens, far away from all the action.” He snapped his fingers. “Which reminds me. I should go wake Deirdre.” He turned and headed off.
Roddy felt his stomach lurch, and knew it had nothing to do with the return of gravity. “I'll... just... take care of the cabin door then.”
“Entry chute attached. You may open the cabin door, Captain Light.”
Silver paused briefly before continuing along.
Roddy darted to the door and threw it open. He didn't know what he might find in that chute or beyond, but he did know one thing.
He wanted to be as far away from Oswald Silver as possible when he discovered--
“Light! Where is my daughter?” Oswald Silver screamed.
Roddy read every bit of murderous intent in the man's tone, and had little doubt that, with Silver's enhanced knowledge of this space port--space station--that he'd track Roddy down and kill him.
Roddy would make the hunt as difficult as possible in the interim.
He sprinted out the door into the chute, hoping he could outrun an enraged old man made young.
—————
SHEILA CLARKE
—————
THE SURFACE OF THE GREAT lake rushed toward the car, the normally pleasant sight of the water filling Sheila with the deep dread of impending death. Her life flashed before her eyes.
She saw her first meeting with Stephen, felt once more that instant chemistry between them. Stephen possessed a powerful charisma, a magnetic pull he had on people--especially women--a trait he'd used in furthering his career at Diasteel. People wanted to please him, wanted his recognition and acknowledgment, and that drove those working for him to perform at their peak. He'd managed to move up the ranks at Diasteel and now reported to the second-in-command for all of Diasteel, the daughter of Oswald Silver himself. She smiled in that brief instant before impact, remembered the blissful look on his face when he'd gotten home two months earlier and told her of his latest promotion, of the excitement his new boss had at his appointment working directly for her, and...
The blur of intense memories derailed as she realized the bitter truth.
He'd been projecting his own actions on her. He'd accused her of infidelity, his only proof her long hours at work coupled with a vague text he'd twisted to fit that preconceived notion. She realized that Stephen hadn't exactly practiced monogamy before they'd gotten together, and she'd believed him when he said he'd changed his ways. She'd believed him. That charisma at work again, no doubt. She wanted to please him, and if that meant suspending disbelief that her playboy husband would stay faithful to her, then that's what she'd do.
But with her life seconds from its unfortunate end, she could face the truth.
She remembered the flirtatious looks and comments made to other women in her presence, and now she could see and hear in his tone that it wasn't mere playful banter. It was subtle seduction, something he did for the thrill of cheating on her with his voice even as she watched and smiled with his targets. His efforts expanded in proportion to his physical attraction to his target.
She'd seen pictures of Oswald Silver's daughter, a woman of such stunning beauty that even Sheila couldn't help but stare.
She didn't know if the Silver woman had a moral code like her husband's. She vaguely recalled that the woman was married to a former member of the military, a man who'd earned his living guarding the gates of the cityplexes throughout Western territory from potential intrusion by the beasts of the Hinterlands and guarding the coasts from the greater threat of the East.
Being married wouldn't stop Stephen.
Damn Micah Jamison for killing her in such an elaborate and extended fashion, “saving” her from the collapsing underground Bunker before “missing” her with the “warning” bullet and then strapping her into this death trap.
If he'd let her die with the rest, she'd wouldn't be spending her last moments realizing that her life had been nothing more than a lie. She'd lied to her husband about her true job just as he'd lied when he'd promised fidelity.
The car slammed into the surface of the lake, the rippling water meeting the vehicle with the force of dozens of sledgehammers. The restraining harness held firm, but her head snapped forward. She felt her teeth rattle as her chin snapped against her chest, and she tasted blood as her head recoiled back. She reflexively wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at the red streak removed from her bloodied lip.
Sheila looked outside, feeling the slight bobbing motion of the vehicle as she watched the surface of the lake slowly rise.
She turned her head as best she could, straining to see the city behind her, watching as the upper tips of the skyline began shaking. She couldn't see the Diasteel tower from here--it was dozens of miles away--but she wondered if the machines had gotten to Stephen's building yet. She wondered how much pain he'd feel as the machines covered and devoured him, if he'd suffer as much as the man dissolved to dust upon the hood of her car.
Worse, she wasn't sure if that image of his impending death gave her joy... or an even deeper remorse.
The world was ending. She couldn't escape the restraints and doubted she'd be able to escape the car even if she could.
Her right hand moved to the clip on her belt and she retrieved her phone. She stared at the screen, somewhat amazed that it still showed a solid signal. She supposed the nearest tower remained upright and operational. For now.
It would be her only chance.
She dialed his number and waited, watching as the water outside continued to rise along her line of sight.
The phone picked up. “Stephen?” She couldn't keep the trembling from her voice, and in her final
moments didn't know if it came from relief or joy. “Stephen, I--”
“Hi, it's Stephen. Sorry I couldn't answer your call, but leave a message for me and I'll be in touch soon.”
The phone beeped.
“Stephen! Stephen, it's me! Pick up!” She waited, feeling her eyes well up with tears. “Look, I figured it out, okay? About her. It's not like that with me, like you thought earlier. My boss... I think he's trying to kill me, not sleep with me, and... Stephen, I'm not an accountant.” She paused, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath. “But you knew that, didn't you? You always knew. That's what made me so exciting to you, wasn't it? It wasn't my looks or my career or my wit. It was the idea that you'd snagged someone doing top secret government work and still got away with everything.” She laughed. “Death has a way of making everything clear, doesn't it? So Stephen, that's where I'm at, about to die because the man you thought was my lover is going to finally succeed at killing me. But it won't just be me. There's a swarm. It looks like some sort of ooze or mold. It's growing and it will destroy everything, including you. I know it sounds ridiculous. But if you're at the office, look back toward the city. There won't be much left when you look that way by the time you listen to this. And Stephen...”
She paused. “Goodbye.”
She hung up the phone.
The Ravagers Box Set: Episodes 1-3 Page 23
