Aegis Incursion

by S. S. Segran

  Jag closed his eyes tightly.

  Marshall hated being the bearer of bad news. He would have rather been shot clear through the foot than see the distress in the teens’ faces, but he knew it was part of his duty and he needed to keep that in mind at all times. He couldn’t afford to falter. There was too much at stake.

  The Sentry tried to inject some hope “We’re making good speed. At this rate we should be able to catch up with the abductors soon.”

  All he got was a pensive nod from Jag.

  “Who are you, anyway?” Kody asked.

  Marshall paused abruptly, taken aback by the sudden, strange question. “Um, well, as I introduced myself earlier—”

  “I mean you, aside from your role as a Sentry. Who are you?”

  Marshall ran his hand around the steering wheel lightly as he considered the query. “I’m a descendent of the people of Dema-Ki. My great-grandparents were from the valley and they passed their knowledge and duties to their descendants.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing your whole life, just Sentry stuff?” Kody asked.

  “No. I enlisted with the armed forces when I turned nineteen and was with the Marine Corps for over a decade.”

  Kody whistled, and Marshall caught Aari giving a begrudging look of surprise.

  After a moment of hesitation, Kody reached over to poke Marshall’s bicep enviously. “No wonder you’re so ripped. You gotta be real fit to be a Marine.”

  Jag and Aari rolled their eyes and in spite of the circumstances, gave small smiles at Kody’s goofy expression of admiration.

  Kody noticed them eyeing him scornfully. “What?”

  Marshall, who’d taken an instant liking to Kody, appreciated the teenager’s presence even more. The boy came across as the type who wouldn’t hold a grudge for too long.

  Kody wasn’t done yet. He noticed the tattoo on Marshall’s right wrist and pointed at it. “Semper fi,” he murmured, reading the inking. “Always faithful.”

  Marshall’s expression softened slightly. “I got it to represent my faith to my brothers in arms and this nation, as well as to my dedication to the duties of a Sentry, which transcends artificial boundaries on a map.”

  Aari, who’d had his arms crossed, now unfolded them. Through the rearview mirror, the Sentry could see a raging sea of curiosity behind the teenager’s hard gaze. “How many Sentries are there? Are they everywhere in the world?”

  “We’re all over, yes,” Marshall answered. “We’re part of the League. But we’re not that many considering the scope. I don’t know the exact number, but I’ve been told it’s from several hundred to a thousand.”

  “Are you forced into this responsibility?” Aari asked. “I mean, what if someone doesn’t believe in the cause?”

  Marshall scratched the back of his head, subconsciously taking care not to disturb his neat blonde hair. “I wasn’t forced. It just . . . I don’t know. I can’t speak for everyone, mainly because I’ve only ever met a few other Sentries, but I guess the best way to explain it is that it’s an instinctive sense of duty. The ancient blood coursing through us seems to dictate our purpose in this world. Our duty, and I believe the Elders may have shared this with you, lies not only with standing by the five of you, but also in protecting the good in humanity, the light in people’s souls. We are driven by the knowledge that darkness is but the absence of light.”

  The teens looked quizzical as they absorbed Marshall’s explanation.

  “What exactly do you guys do, though?” Kody asked.

  “It varies from Sentry to Sentry. Most of us have regular jobs and we serve the communities we live in by carrying out and encouraging deeds that bring out the best in people. Others serve and protect the people as firefighters, doctors, educators, law enforcement officers and such. Some try to influence society through different forms of art. A handful are tasked to uncover and, where necessary, bring to light that which poses serious and imminent threat to society.”

  “Meaning . . . ?” Kody probed.

  “Meaning that they have to go underground, get their hands a little dirty and drag out those who bring darkness into the world. It isn’t a pretty job, but someone’s got to do it.”

  “Isn’t that the job for the police and other agencies, like the FBI?” Aari asked skeptically.

  “Yes, but not even they can uncover everything. So some Sentries have actively taken upon themselves to, as I said, uncover the filth. There’s a pair I’m good friends with. Welsh twins. Rascally guys, but definitely not ones to mess with . . . Anyway, when called upon, we all commit without hesitation. One thing we will not touch with a ten-foot pole is politics.” Marshall wrinkled his nose distastefully. “It’s a messy field, that one. And extremely divisive.”

  That earned him small grins from the trio, which made him feel more at ease. He understood why they were taking a long time to warm up to him, especially Jag and Aari. The conditions in which he’d met them were nowhere near ideal. Not even close.

  “Oh, Aari, I nearly forgot—thought you might want this.” Marshall reached between his seat and the car door and gently pulled out something black which he passed to Aari.

  Aari took it, eyebrows swept upward. “My bag!” He unzipped it hastily to ensure that his slim, silver laptop and cell phone were intact. When he saw that they were, he looked at Marshall through the rearview mirror. “I, uh . . . thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  Suddenly, Jag slapped his forehead, groaning. “Problem. Our folks are gonna freak out when they find out we’re not exactly on our trip anymore.”

  Marshall saw Jag and Aari swap alarmed looks.

  “What do we do?” Aari asked. “They’ll go ballistic when they find out what’s happened to Teegs and ’Riah.”

  Kody looked almost fearful. “Oh, man, this really isn’t good.”

  Aari was panicking. “What are our options?”

  “Do we even have one?” Kody demanded.

  “Well, we can’t hide this from them,” Jag said quietly.

  “If I may,” Marshall said. “I wouldn’t want you lying to your parents. You’re aware of what’s at stake here. This is much bigger than any of us. Maybe you might want to consider holding off on telling them, at least until the girls are safely back with us?”

  “We take turns calling home every day and our parents fill each other in. We might get away with it for a while but not for very long.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Marshall replied kindly. “Don’t worry.” He took his eyes off the road to steal a quick look at his watch. “We’ve still got some ways to go. Try to catch some shut eye, if you can.”

  The boys slowly leaned back but their bodies were tense. Jag, sitting beside Marshall, kept fidgeting and drumming his fingers on his knee. Marshall knew there was no way the three would even attempt to sleep. In a soft voice, he said, “Don’t worry about your friends. The Sentry who’s following them is a very resolute woman. She’ll stick with them until they’re rescued. Don’t worry.”

  18

  A red-and-black Ducati motorcycle roared over the asphalt, its passage rattling a farmer’s handmade sign that hung from a post thrust into the shoulder of the freeway. The rider of the motorcycle was a fit and striking woman in her early forties. Her long hair, black with a silver streak and mostly hidden under her sleek touring helmet, was tied in a ponytail. She wore leather gloves and a comfortable jacket over a white top.

  She kept her distance from the car she was tailing, using the sporadic traffic of mostly semis and smaller trucks to maintain her cover. The blue car carrying the three abductors with the two girls in the trunk was some five hundred feet ahead of her. She glanced at her watch. It showed a few minutes past four in the morning. There was still no hint of the rising sun but it wasn’t pitch-dark either.

  A sign overhead indicated that the New Mexico border was not far off. The Sentry had been following the blue car for nearly six hours, across California and into Arizona. She ought to have
been tired, but it was the exact opposite. Being on the open road awoke a part of her that was suppressed when confined in a city. She thrived on the freedom of riding a powerful motorcycle on a relatively empty freeway.

  Up ahead, she saw the abductors take an off-ramp toward a gas station. Eyes narrowed, she weaved her way between three large trucks and accelerated to catch the ramp. She smoothly turned her bike in to the gas station. A few other vehicles were there as well. She spotted the blue car parked at one of the gas pumps. A man with long, red sideburns and dark clothes stepped out while the other two remained inside. All three had pulled off their masks. The driver didn’t seem to notice her as she pulled up to the pump ahead of him. He turned and made his way to the convenience store to pay for the gas.

  Her eyes flicked toward the blue car, then she slowly got off the Ducati and walked to the convenience store as well. Inside, she saw the man with the long sideburns walking down the aisles, grabbing junk food as he went. Taking a risk, she hurried to the bathroom to relieve herself. When she came back out, she was thankful to see that the man hadn’t left; he was waiting in line at the counter.

  The Sentry paused, pretending to adjust her helmet strap, and darted a quick glance at the man. To her surprise, he was looking over his shoulder at her rather suspiciously. He took in her serene face and heavy biker boots before meeting her eyes and leering at her. The Sentry ignored the degrading look and gave him a nod and a tight smile.

  Only when the man had paid for his snacks and fuel did she slink up to the counter. She kept a careful eye on Sideburns as he made his way back to the car to toss the food packages to his cohorts and pump the gas. When she’d paid for her fuel, she walked out to her bike and took her time with the gas pump, showing no interest as the captors pulled back onto the freeway. She allowed them a few seconds’ head start before swinging her leg over the seat of the Ducati and following, keeping behind several small cars. She soon had them in her sights again. The Sentry felt bad for the girls. Determined not to lose them, she resolved to rescue them as soon as she found where they were being taken.

  The kidnappers and their unseen pursuer rocketed down the wide lanes of the freeway for a couple of hours more before they approached a small town. The blue car exited the highway and began to pull further ahead. It maintained its increased speed briefly before disappearing around a curve behind a small hill.

  The Sentry leaned forward, urging her bike on. She pulled away from the other vehicles, leaving them far behind her, and rounded the bend.

  The blue car was nowhere to be seen. There was no sign of its retreating tail lights down the road. The Sentry slowed to a halt, baffled. This wasn’t possible.

  Is there a hidden turnoff somewhere? she wondered, looking around. There was no traffic on any of the lanes and big sagebrush carpeted the sides of the roads. The area was darker than the surroundings as the small hill blocked what little light there was in the sky. She used her headlights to try and see into the shadows.

  The Sentry turned her head to the left when she thought she saw something odd in her peripheral vision. She pointed the light toward the object and froze when she saw the outline of a dark-colored car just barely visible against the sagebrush. It was parked, its lights turned off, at the side of the road.

  It seemed as if the car’s occupants had abandoned it. The Sentry quelled the panic that was creeping up her throat. She hadn’t lost them. They couldn’t be too far away. She’d find them, and the girls.

  As she moved to get off her bike to investigate, a metal-on-metal sound caught her attention. She quickly turned and saw a stocky, broad-shouldered form in the shadows. Its arms were raised, a gun pointed at her.

  The Sentry threw herself off her bike but was a fraction of a second too late. She heard a bang and felt a blow to her abdomen as she hit the ground, scraping the side of her helmet against the road. She let out a gasp and pressed her hands where she’d been hit. Steeling herself, she slowly sat up only to be forced back down by another bullet. It struck her a few inches above the first wound. She bit into her lip to stop herself from letting out any sounds of pain.

  The roar of an engine coming to life made her raise her head. The blue car’s headlights glared into her face and she closed her eyes just before her head hit the ground again. Helpless, she listened as the vehicle rumbled back onto the road and sped away.

  The Sentry pulled her helmet off and unzipped her jacket. She could feel no exit wounds, meaning that the bullets were still inside her. Her entire body shook from shock but she forced herself to plunge her fingers into the holes to stem the bleeding as much as she could. With one hand keeping pressure on the wounds, she weakly grabbed her customized phone out of her pocket and called one of the few contacts she had.

  A man’s voice answered after the first ring. “Is everything alright?” were the first words he said.

  The Sentry’s breathing was heavy and uneven. “Marshall . . . they’re gone.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “I lost them,” she whispered.

  “You . . . What happened?”

  “They got me. Ambushed—shot twice.”

  There was a curse on the other end, then, “How badly are you hit?”

  The Sentry didn’t reply. She could feel her energy steadily leaving her body and knew her time would be up before she could get to a hospital. Marshall said, “Look, hang tight. I’m not far behind. I’ll be there—”

  “Marshall, you need to worry about the girls. I lost them.”

  “Where were they headed?”

  “We just crossed the state line into New Mexico and . . . ” She grimaced as the pain intensified. “ . . .and took the exit at Deming, heading north. I don’t . . . know . . . the final destination.”

  There was silence before he said softly, “I’m so sorry about this.”

  She managed a bleak smile. “It’s what happens in the line of duty. You know that better than most.”

  “But I should have—”

  “We’re here for a reason.” She let out a shuddering breath and shut her eyes tightly. “I just wish I’d made my time count.”

  “You did . . . you did make your time count. Thank you, Gwen.”

  The Sentry ended the call. Her vision was darkening around the edges. She went to the settings on her phone and tapped the ‘Wipeout’ option. With a sigh, she dropped the device as all its data was erased permanently.

  She could hear a vehicle approaching but never got to see the wide-eyed truck driver who stopped his semi and ran to her, never got to hear the frantic emergency call he made, never got to take more than two excruciating breaths before her heart stopped.

  19

  When Marshall’s fists came crashing down onto the Mustang’s steering wheel, Jag knew something was horribly wrong. He saw that the Sentry’s eyes were red as the man tore away his Bluetooth earpiece and threw it down.

  “What’s happened?” Jag asked, gripping his seat belt as they tore down the freeway.

  Marshall’s jaw worked for a few moments before he managed to force out, “Gwen’s been shot.”

  “Gwen?”

  Marshall didn’t respond. From behind, Aari said, “Wait. Is that . . . is that the Sentry who was following Tegan and Mariah?”

  Marshall pressed the fingers of one hand against his eyes. Jag stared at him, aghast, his heart dropping to the pit of his gut. “I thought you said she wouldn’t fail!”

  Dropping his hand back onto the wheel, Marshall muttered, “They caught onto her somehow and they . . . ambushed her.”

  Jag looked back. Aari had his face covered with his hands and Kody was staring up at the roof of the convertible. He turned back to look at Marshall, wanting to break something, but stopped himself when he saw the Sentry staring at the road ahead with tightened lips and his shoulders slumped. The man looked . . . broken. Guilt prickled Jag’s skin; the first thing that had left his mouth when he found out the other Sentry had been shot was accusation
.

  A few seconds of silence passed before Marshall spoke. He looked dejected but his voice was strong and determined—at least, it seemed to Jag. “We’re going to have to find your friends on our own. Gwen said that the abductors turned off the freeway at Deming, New Mexico.” The car’s speedometer needle moved farther to the right. “We’ll get them back.”

  They drove onward without talking as Marshall kept a heavy foot on the gas pedal. Jag glanced at the Sentry every so often as the thoughts swirling in his mind grew into a crescendo. Where have they taken Tegan and Mariah? How do we get them back? Why are we with this stranger, this Sentry? Do we know for sure if we can trust him? Why is this even happening? We didn’t ask for any of this! I don’t want anything to do with this prophecy anymore . . . I just . . . I just want my friends back. I want our lives back.

  In the midst of the tempest in his mind, a man’s voice, rich, dignified and slightly accented, quietly parted the raging sea of thoughts. Jag.

  Jag froze, eyes darting to Marshall and his friends in the rearview mirror, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to him. The voice called to him again. Jag.

  It was the voice from his dreams. Now though, he knew who the speaker was. Elder Nageau?

  Yes, youngling. The Elder’s comforting tone seemed to dispel a great deal of tension in Jag’s shoulders.

  Jag slowly pressed himself back against his seat. What . . . how . . . ?

  Understand, Jag, that my physical self in this, the biosphere, remains a long way from you, but we are connected through our consciousness in the novasphere . . . The Elder’s voice broke off, as if a call had dropped, then returned a few moments later. Do you remember this from your training?

  I . . . I think I remember. The novasphere is the higher plane where consciousness, uh . . . is projected. Where we’re able to seek out those that are ready to connect with us.