by Sean Platt
But why? It was so irrational. So stupid. So contrary to what was obviously the best course of action. Look how things had turned out: He’d run; he’d allied with those who were now bound in captivity and likely meant for execution; he’d attempted in vain to betray a force that held the planet quite firmly and couldn’t, in any meaningful way, be subverted; he’d nearly got himself killed. He hadn’t saved Heather, Lila, or Clara so much as thrown them in danger. It was as dumb and ill-thought-out an action as whatever Piper had done (though for that, the Astrals were to blame) and what Trevor had done, in running with her.
Meyer thought of Lila, who’d caused all of this. She’d stared at him. She’d said words meant to cut him. But he was smarter than to fall for them, wasn’t he?
There was nothing. No understanding. No light on his own actions, as if they’d been perpetrated by someone else. Someone stupid.
Meyer opened his eyes. Clara was sitting on his bed.
“Hi, Grandpa.”
“Hello, Clara,” Meyer said, feeling an involuntary smile touch his lips. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I got out of bed. Mom was scared.”
There was a twitch of something inside Meyer. Something that felt like it had meaning, but then it was gone.
“Why was she scared, Sweet Pea?”
“Grandma is acting funny. The lights are off.” Clara shrugged. “She’s just … scared.”
Meyer watched the girl. He should be astonished by everything about her, but he’d grown used to it all. She walked and held herself like a five-year-old and spoke better than half of the city’s human leaders. She had, it sometimes seemed, more insight into the Astrals than Meyer himself. It was how she was, and nobody questioned it anymore.
“I’m sorry to hear that, honey.”
Clara shifted on the bed. “I don’t want to leave our house, Mister.”
“‘Mister’?”
“‘Grandpa,’” Clara corrected.
Meyer scrunched his brow. He decided to let it pass. It was hardly the strangest thing the girl had ever said.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I think we will. I’ve already packed.” She indicated a small teddy bear backpack Meyer hadn’t noticed. It was on the floor beside her. He hadn’t seen her put it there — but then again, he hadn’t seen or heard her enter the room, either, and it wasn’t like his eyes had been closed long. His ears, in fact, hadn’t been closed at all.
“Who said you had to leave?”
“Grandma Piper.” Clara made a small wave, correcting herself. “Not that she knows it yet.”
“‘Yet’? Clara, who have you been talking to? Did you overhear something Mo said? Because whatever he might have said wasn’t for your ea — ”
“I haven’t seen Mr. Weir,” Clara interrupted.
“Then — ”
“I’m bored. Do you want to play a game?”
Meyer watched the girl’s eyes. They were shockingly blue, like Piper’s. Like those of the stepgrandmother who’d told Clara that she’d need to leave home, even though Piper herself apparently didn’t know it. Yet.
“I can’t. I have a guest coming.” He forced a patronizing smile, but it didn’t come easy.
“Who?” And Meyer thought, What, you don’t know?
“Someone who helps me protect the city.”
“Like Captain Jons?”
“Sort of. Except that he protects the area outside the fence. The Astrals can’t do it all. They need human partners to help out. Like me, and like Mr. Andreus.”
“Oh, okay.”
“And you should be in bed anyway. It’s late, Clara.”
She hopped down from the bed. The sound of her slippers against the floor made a noise like a clap. She picked up the small backpack, letting it dangle from a hand. Meyer thought she might repeat her question about moving, but Clara said nothing.
“Okay. I guess.”
“G’night, Clara.”
“Good night, Mister.”
Meyer felt the same strange expression form on his face, accompanied by an unknown sensation in his gut. He hugged her, scared to ask what he wanted to.
“Have fun talking to your friend who’s coming,” Clara said, turning toward the door.
“I will. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
Clara yawned. When her plodding feet reached the door, she turned halfway.
“Ask him about Uncle Trevor,” she said.
CHAPTER 44
Christopher found Terrence alone with his guards in the network center. The guard unit was composed of five humans and two Titans — not a Reptar in sight. That must be Meyer reasserting his command, pushing the Raj regime right out the window … while, apparently, punching it repeatedly in the face.
Passing them with a nod of acknowledgement, it occurred to Christopher that the guards — the human ones, anyway — might have been poisoned against him. Raj had been mouthing off everywhere all night long, it seemed, and he might have blabbed. The guards might have heard stories of Christopher’s disloyalty. But even though Raj seemed to have attained a new, listen-to-me edge, Christopher doubted the guards had accepted it. Their necks weren’t nearly as much on the line.
The looks Christopher got seemed to confirm it. Guards allowed him entry with respect, giving him distance. The Titans stayed far back, respectful and deferential as always.
He gave them all one final glance then sat beside Terrence in a way that hopefully seemed appropriately suspicious. The man was a prisoner and traitor, after all.
“I haven’t seen him in a while,” Terrence said. “Raj, I mean.”
“How’s the network fix going?” Christopher asked. He made his voice artificially loud so the guards would hear then raised one eyebrow, hoping Terrence would get his meaning.
Terrence seemed to. “I’ve been waiting for Raj to come back. I can’t do more until I get access to the network spindle,” he answered, also in full voice.
“I’ll take you to it. It’s in the annex. Don’t try anything.” Then Christopher rose, taking Terrence by the arm in a way that was perhaps a bit too rough — but better to put on a decent show rather than anything unconvincing. Then he half dragged Terrence through the door, into a smaller room next door. Beating the guards to the punch, he ordered them to line up outside the door, looking in, keeping their guns ready just in case.
Once they were pushed back into the annex, Christopher lowered his voice and said, “What’s a network spindle?”
“I made it up.”
“Here.” Christopher handed Terrence a tiny screwdriver from his clutch of tools. “Open this panel, and try to look busy.”
“What if Raj comes back? You try to feed him ‘network spindle’, and he’ll arrest you, too.”
Christopher frowned. “He’s down at the police station, trying to dig up dirt. I radio’d up myself before he came back last time, had some of my men confiscate the commander’s tablet before he got back because he was under suspicion. But it’s only temporary, until Raj shakes enough cages and gets it back. I’m afraid the ship’s sailed on my innocence. Raj says he has evidence against me. Both of us together, it sounds like. I think he has cameras. That’s why I dragged you in here. Maybe we can actually talk without making things worse.”
Terrence’s gaze flicked to the guards.
“I can’t spring you, T. The guards like me a lot better than Raj, but the Titans won’t let it happen. They’re not that stupid.”
“I can’t do what Raj wants. He won’t listen. Canned Heat isn’t like a normal virus. It consumes. It was supposed to do it selectively, eating through what they’ve firewalled. I figured they’d cut off the new connections, but we’d get our chance. Instead, it spread. There’s no undoing this, but he refuses to buy it.”
Christopher nodded. “He’s desperate. Dangerous. Did Meyer really beat him up?”
“Jesus, Chris, did he. You should have seen it.”
“Why? What happened?”
/> “He just stormed in. But you know he supposedly shot Meyer. I’d want to beat up the shooter, too.” There was more, but Terrence didn’t continue. As with Christopher, the perfectly logical “he tried to kill me” excuse wasn’t ringing true as Meyer’s motive.
“Look. Cameron’s in the city. Cameron and Piper.”
“Like Lila said?” Terrence looked surprised.
“Clara said,” Christopher corrected, nodding.
“Where are they?”
“A safe place.” Christopher looked around the room, trying to help Terrence’s hands look busy to the guards. Raj had hooks in him. He probably would have explained further, but if he did and Raj was listening, axes would fall.
“They weren’t picked up by the Astrals?”
“Something happened out there. Have you seen what’s going on with the Apex?”
“I saw a flash.”
“Well, something’s going on with them, too. They … hell, they started to change somehow, T. Fought like a bunch of football hooligans.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“Sounds like it’s working out, if they’re safe.”
“But why?” Again, Christopher looked at the guards. “Terrence, your Canned Heat … could it affect them, too? Whatever shit connects their ships to each other?”
“I don’t see how. I mean, it looks like they’ve piggybacked off our ground- and satellite-based networks, but they communicate all through space without our help.”
“But … could it infect them? It’s a virus.”
“No. It only destroys, and they still have plenty of power.” Terrence’s eyes went to the window. “More power, maybe. Tell you the truth: Since that flash, it’s occurred to me that I might have helped them as much as hurting us. I don’t think their shuttles can talk to each other right now, same for the little surveillance droids the others mentioned before the network blacked out. They’re fast enough that they don’t need to — they can fly wherever in no time and talk in person, if that’s a thing for them. If they’re drawing more power into the Apex, that gives them an advantage. Especially if they’re planning … ” Terrence trailed off, aborting his ominous what-if.
“Cameron said there’s a mothership over Utah again. Where his dad was.”
“Did the mothership destroy the lab?”
“I don’t know.”
Terrence looked up. “Because you said ‘was.’ ‘Where his dad was,’ past tense.”
“He’s dead.” Christopher sighed. “Benjamin is dead.”
“Shit.”
“A lot of their people. The rebel thing I mentioned, that Jons told me about? It was them. They got a thing.” Christopher paused again before describing the key and the idea of the weapon, wary of revealing too much for ears in the walls. But then he added, “Trevor too.”
Terrence closed his eyes and shook his head. “Hell. I liked Trevor.”
Christopher bobbed his head grimly. He’d liked Trevor too. A lot. But there wasn’t time to mourn with so much still in the balance.
“But the mothership. Cameron said it’s … I don’t know … leeching power from this underground plug. Like it’s charging up, back in Moab.”
“Why?”
“That was what I was hoping you’d have thoughts on, Terrence.”
Terrence shook it off. “Same question. They’re probably planning something if they’re powering up.”
“Look, they need to get … ” Christopher paused, but there was no way to convey the information without simply saying it. “They need to get into it. Into the Apex. Is there any way to clear a path from where you’re — ”
“Forget it,” Terrence said. “First, I’d have no way to affect that. Any of that, and certainly not with Raj’s oversight. But there’s a bigger problem.”
“What?”
Terrence pulled something from his tool bag. It looked like a 1990s-era phone — something with alligator clips on one end, old like a repairman might have carried before Christopher was born.
“I can hear your radio transmissions,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Well, haven’t you been listening?”
“I’ve had it off.”
“Turn it on when you get out of here. You’ll see. It sounds like they’re swarming the Apex. Forget about being kept out. Cameron and Piper would be mobbed. Like fighting through a crowd, from the sounds of it.”
“Why?”
“I’m hearing human talk, not Astrals. So you tell me; you’re the one in uniform.”
“Something to do with the ‘powering up?’”
“No idea. But it’s occurred to me that — ”
A voice from the doorway: “Well, isn’t this a nice little reunion?”
It was Raj, with a tablet in his hand.
CHAPTER 45
The viceroy was taller than Nathan expected.
Usually, people who appeared to be larger than life — and Dempsey was certainly one of those, both before and after Astral Day — earned their size through the media’s flattering eye. There had always been tall actors, politicians, and leaders, but more often than not, anecdotes said that meeting them in person was disappointing.
Not so for Meyer Dempsey. He was several inches taller than Nathan, firm in bearing, and with a strange look in his eye that Nathan, who was used to intimidating his way through negotiations, felt himself wanting to flinch from.
No wonder some people said that Dempsey was a god. He’d been scooped up by aliens and returned like Lazarus. He’d risen to power in an obvious fashion, as if he’d always intended to be and everyone had expected it of him. His presence was unflinching. And, if the murmurs he’d heard on his way in were true, the man might have been shot, before emerging from death unscathed.
“Come in, Mr. Andreus.” Meyer nodded to the man who’d led Andreus in. Then the man left, and he gestured at the seats. Nathan took one, careful to select the highest and largest. That was how you took command of a discussion: by sitting in the room’s obvious throne.
But Dempsey effortlessly trumped him. Only once seated did Nathan look up and realize Dempsey meant to stay standing.
“I received your message,” he said.
“And?”
The viceroy nodded. “I believe it. The Astrals believe it.”
“Why do you need to believe it? Couldn’t you see it for yourself?”
“It’s none of your concern.”
But watching him, Nathan realized he’d scored an early — if accidental — hit. They’d escaped. The son of a bitches had somehow slipped away, despite the Astrals’ force and might. That could be good, or bad. It certainly weakened Nathan’s bargaining position. If they’d captured Cameron, they’d have recovered the key Nathan had told Dempsey he was carrying. They’d know that Nathan was telling the truth. Now, he had to take at least half of his informant’s information on faith.
“Have the Astrals found the item they were looking for? Under the Apex?”
“A search is underway. But unfortunately,” Meyer gave Nathan a sidelong look, as if reminding him who was skeptical of whom, “your suggestion to scan the chambers for stone of the same composition as the key has run into trouble.”
Meaning: Without capturing Cameron and getting the key, the Astrals couldn’t yet verify that Nathan had been telling the truth about that, either. Stupid fucking ETs. It wasn’t Nathan’s fault they couldn’t get their big white heads out of their muscular white asses for long enough to catch one man and one woman walking directly into the city, unarmed and without backup.
Maybe he shouldn’t have done this. Yes, ratting out Cameron had gained Nathan entry into the city and earned him the viceroy’s presence, but he hardly had all the chips in his corner. He was sitting like a supplicant while god-king Dempsey stalked around him, large and in charge.
Maybe it was all for nothing.
“Well … ” The single word made Nathan sound weak, further backed into a corner.
“I’ll be b
lunt. Word from Divinity on the mothership is that the Astrals don’t like you. They also don’t trust you.”
Nathan felt his chest constrict. He wanted to stand and act like a man instead of a mouse, but it was hard. The room’s oppression, even for Nathan Andreus, was too strong.
“But they need you. And while they don’t trust you, they believe you in this case. At least they buy your sense of self-preservation.” A smile ticked up the corner of Dempsey’s mouth. Nathan felt him shift off the official script, now speaking as himself rather than as the Astrals’ mouthpiece. “A trait we share, as selfish sons of bitches,” he added.
Nathan shifted. Tried to sit taller. Tried to make his face impassive, as if none of this mattered.
“I’ve been asked to act as a surrogate for Divinity. Are you familiar with the process?”
“No. I was contacted by people like you when we made our first arrangement.” Nathan tried to add a sneer to his voice. “Like you” was supposed to be an insult: meaning puppets, meaning those who got down on their knees whenever the aliens asked. But judging the lack of change in the viceroy’s expression, he seemed to take it as a straightforward phrase: “like you” meaning an authority, a person in charge.
“Divinity does not leave the mothership. It will speak through me. As far as you are concerned, you will keep speaking with me. But it will be them.”
“Like a puppet with a hand up your ass,” Nathan said, finally standing to match Dempsey.
The knock registered this time; there was a flicker of annoyance before the viceroy’s face went placid and blank. So unlike the intimidating presence he’d just portrayed. Still in charge. Now more quietly so.
“Nathan Andreus,” Divinity said using Meyer Dempsey’s mouth.
“You got ’im.”
“You entered Heaven’s Veil, domain of human viceroy Meyer Dempsey, dominion of the prime North American mothership, in an armored vehicle. Since that time, we have considered you a threat worthy of eradication. The matter has been given serious consideration.”
