I lifted my head carefully, suppressing a groan of pain, and looked to my left. More boots. More trees. No haze.
“Sir,” a voice dropped down on me. “Prisoner’s moving.” The voice sounded filtered and mechanical.
“Bind him, Corp,” another mechanical voice said, in a higher pitch. I thought that one was a woman.
“Sir.” A hand grabbed my hair and pulled. “Get up.”
I struggled to get to my knees, gritting my teeth against the waves of pain from my head. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I didn’t think my skull was broken. The Ranjer pulled harder and I dug deep, forcing my feet under me.
The moment I was standing, the Ranjer who’d been pulling on me stood in front of me—he was extremely tall—and slapped a strange-feeling strap around my left wrist, pulling it closer to my right arm, which of course still had a cast on it. He wasn’t too rough with me, but he tugged my left arm closer to the right one, put a strap around what he could see of my right wrist, then pushed a button on the left strap. My wrists drew together with the audible click of a magnetic lock. I’d never seen the Enforsers use anything like this.
The Ranjer wasn’t done. He put another, larger strap around my neck. It felt cold and how I imagined a snake would feel as it tightened. He pushed another button and I felt my neck pull downward. I lifted my arms a little; the downward pressure on my neck decreased somewhat. I dropped my arms carefully; my neck was pulled down again. The straps were connected somehow. I felt completely helpless.
“Ready, Sir.” The Ranjer’s metallic voice sent chills down my side. It was as if these people weren’t . . . well, people. As if they were machines. But I’d beaten a couple of them, so they weren’t perfect.
And I’d been really lucky. And desperate.
I doubted that would happen again.
“Transport’s on the way. Frisko wants this one.” The commander of the Ranjers really sounded like a woman. She was almost exactly my height. She turned to me. I stared at my reflection in the lenses of her mask. She lifted her mask and helmet, revealing a pale face, dark green eyes, and short-cropped, dark hair. “Which is lucky for him.” She glared at me. Her fury and the totally stony expression couldn’t hide how beautiful she was. “You hurt two of my people.”
“They were trying to hurt me.” I tried to match her stare. My heart hammered fast in my chest. Fear combined with how close her amazing eyes were. What was wrong with me?
“You got lucky.”
“I know.”
She maintained her furious stare and then spun away. “Men. Look alive. Transport will be here in five.”
It felt like an hour. More. The commander had stalked off through the trees, leaving me with a group of at least ten Ranjers, all of them burly and completely silent. Even seeing the commander’s face, angry though she was, would have been better than being surrounded by a bunch of faceless robot types. Very creepy.
By the time the whine of propulsion units could be heard, my neck was stiff from the slight pressure I just couldn’t keep off it. I’d hold my hands up a bit, but with my right arm still in a cast, I couldn’t hold the position for long at all.
The Ranjers pushed me backward as an Enforser pod dropped out of the sky. It looked like the pilot was trying to avoid the trees, but he pushed a young one over on his way down, cracking its trunk with a loud snap. Then, the pod was on the forest floor and four Enforsers spilled out immediately, all of them making for me.
The female commander of the Ranjers appeared from behind me, marching right at the Enforsers. They drew up.
“What’s this all about?” The commander’s voice was easily heard over the idling pod.
“Can’t say,” one of the Enforsers said. He wore a helmet but no mask, just like the other Enforsers.
“You interrupt my normal patrols, order me to stand down and hold this kid for you, and you can’t say?” It felt kind of good to have her fury directed at someone else. But I wasn’t a kid.
“Commander, this is from the Prime Administrator.” The Enforser’s eyes flicked over to me and then back to the Ranjer. “I. Can’t. Say.”
From the set of her neck, I thought the commander was going to say more, but instead, she stood for a beat and then stepped back, turning. She gestured my way and the tall Ranjer pulled me forward.
“He’s all yours.” The commander’s glare hadn’t softened even a little as my gaze switched from the Enforser to her.
One of the other Enforsers took my left arm, glancing down at my right. “What happened?”
“Unknown. It was like that when we got him.” The commander seemed like she was made of stone. Nothing on her face moved when she spoke except for her mouth.
“This happened out here. Someone helped him.” This from the first Enforser who’d talked to the commander. “You have to find them and deal with them.”
Now the commander’s face showed an expression beyond fury. Her eyes widened; she was clearly surprised. “I have to find them? I don’t take orders from you, city cop.”
The Enforser glared back at the commander but seemed to think better of getting in a fight with her. “Wait here, then.” He nodded at the man who had my arm and led the way back to the pod. “I’ll get command online,” he said over his shoulder.
I’d never been in an Enforser pod, except for the time years before when my class had gone to an Enforser depot and they’d demonstrated what they did. Sure, we did a few simulations in school and everybody was taught the basics of how the New Chapter’s flying pods worked, but it wasn’t as if people wanted to be in an Enforser pod.
The vehicle was one long space with the cockpit in the front, two single chairs facing toward the window, and bench seats lining the inside walls of the pod, leaving the center empty. Cords, headsets, and all kinds of electronics, with multiple skreens here and there, lined the walls above the benches. The door we’d entered had folded down from the wall of the pod, forming a simple set of steps that led from the ground to the floor of the pod. I thought I remembered that the back of Enforser pods opened as well, allowing more Enforsers in and out at once if needed.
Everything was gray and black, with the skreens glowing dully in the light from two sets of track lights in the roof.
The Enforser, who must have been the squad’s leader, stepped to the cockpit, addressed the man in the left seat, and waited for a moment while the man hit a few buttons on a large central console. As the man who had my arm pushed me to a bench and strapped me in, I tried to overhear what was being said.
“ . . . orders . . . Ranjers . . . “
“ . . . immediately . . . “
“ . . . others . . . problem . . . “
The squad leader straightened, tapping the side of his helmet, and went back outside. I guessed that command, or whomever the squad leader had been talking to, was going to give the Ranjer commander her orders through the coms that everyone knew Enforsers wore. The Ranjers must have worn them, too.
Whatever happened, the squad leader was back in the pod in moments, and I felt the ground drop from beneath us almost before the door had finished folding back up into the wall. Throughout the exchange and boarding the pod, I’d felt strangely detached from what was happening. Like an observer but not someone directly involved. Now, I shook the feeling away, feeling like I needed to try to figure out what was coming and what I could do about it.
They were taking me back to New Frisko, obviously. And they’d roped the Ranjers into helping find me, specifically. And then it sounded like they’d given the Ranjers orders to go find the Hawk triune . . . and kill them?
Horrible as it sounded, I felt sure that’s what the orders had been.
Their orders concerning me were more confusing. First, the Enforsers had acted like I was resisting and had tried to kill me. Then the Ranjers captured me, but the Enforsers weren’t behaving like I was about to be killed.
I had to get away again. Maybe I could think of something before we made it back to New Fri
sko. I looked around the pod, noting that there were two men in the cockpit and six other Enforsers in the pod. I didn’t know why I hadn’t noticed the others in the pod when I’d first boarded.
I also noticed that there were a few windows in the walls of the pod. Through one directly across from me, I could see trees heading off toward the horizon. For a moment, as we took a wide turn high above the treetops, I saw far off in the distance some dark, hulking shapes. That had to be the original Frisko over there. I strained to see more of it, but I only made out more dark shapes. They looked like jagged, rotting mountains.
I remembered the CyJet, still hiding under a tree. A moment of regret for the lost machine came and went. It had served me well. I felt bad that I’d taken Rojer’s and my creation, but I couldn’t deny that I wouldn’t have made it as far as I had without the incredible invention.
The squad leader had said something about the Prime Administrator. It was hard to believe they would really take me to Prime One, but maybe all this trouble meant that they really would. I’d never been in there. I didn’t personally know anybody who ever had. There were doors to it, of course, but they were always guarded. I’d only seen Enforsers and people who did broadcasts go in and out.
Less than thirty minutes later, the pod, which must have been flying at top speed, banked into a turn and I was able to see the city laid out through the window across from me. I expected us to descend, but we kept our altitude and came to what felt like a standstill. Then we dropped straight down. It was a slow descent, but my stomach still rolled over a couple of times. The light changed and I saw through the window that we had entered the dome of Prime One. Walls stretched out, long and wide, as we continued going down. I’d never seen a pod go into a dome, much less Prime One. I hadn’t even known that was possible. The roof must have opened somehow.
We settled to the ground inside Prime One and the pod powered down, the track lights flipping off, but almost immediately, the Enforser pod shuddered once and we were dropping again. But this time, the motion was choppier.
I stared through the window. We were going down some kind of shaft or pod elevator. My heart skipped a few beats. Nobody knew I was here except for the Enforsers. The Admins could make me disappear. Who? Nik Granjer? Never heard of him. But no. They had to have something else in mind.
I looked around, finding that the lack of lighting in the shaft made it hard to see the interior of the pod. I wished I had some kind of weapon that I could hide on me, regretting not pocketing the knife I’d used at the Hawk triune’s campsite.
The nanocutter. I realized that I hadn’t felt its weight in my zip pocket at all since I’d woken on the forest ground. I shifted enough so that I could tap that pocket with the inside of my cast. Nothing. Then I remembered; Dolfo had taken it when the three Wanderers had found me. Great. I knew the other pocket held the pouch the Wanderers had given me. But no weapon.
Wait a minute. I thought back. The bent spoke from my cycle. Moving my arms in the direction of that pocket put painful strain on my right arm and yanked my neck uncomfortably, but I was able to find the metal zipper that held that pocket closed. I felt the outside of my zip. Yes, the spoke was still in there. I had to keep it. I wasn’t sure what the Prime Administrator wanted with me, but the fact that we were still going down felt like a bad sign. Like I was closer to a grave than I wanted to be.
The spoke wasn’t safe in my pocket. They would search me for sure and would find it, especially if they used a metal sensor on me.
Metal. The zippers on my zip were metal. Maybe the spoke would blend in.
Not in my pocket; the spoke was too long. I tried to get at the spoke, but it was hard to get enough movement, particularly in a sitting position. I felt like I was going to have to practically tear my right arm off to get in my pocket. I didn’t know if I would have a better chance at this, with the poor lighting.
I coughed, pushing hard to make it sound violent, and forced myself to hack hard and loud. I tried to stand, but the straps reminded me I’d been belted in. I coughed more, acting like I wanted to put my hands to my mouth.
“Shut him up.” The squad leader’s voice was loud and icy.
I shook my head, “I’m okay,” and then coughed more, twisting to get at my pocket. My right arm screamed at me, but I got the zipper open a little. I settled back. How deep were we going? How much time did I have? In the darkness of the Enforser pod, I sucked in a slow, deep breath, and then, gritting my teeth against the pain I was about to inflict upon myself, I reached for my left pocket.
The pod elevator must have hit the level it was aiming for because it felt like how I imagined a small earthquake felt, and then the sensation of dropping slowed considerably.
I wrenched my wrists toward my pocket. The strap on my neck felt like it was breaking the skin and my right arm felt like teeth were digging into it. There! I got two fingers into the pocket and reached desperately for the spoke.
The elevator stopped.
My finger brushed the tip of the spoke. I reached again, the incredibly awkward position feeling like murder on my right side. Got it.
I yanked the spoke out of my pocket, hiding it between my hands.
Light blasted through all of the pod’s windows. The Enforser squad leader stood waiting with the Enforser closest to the pod’s rear door. While the squad leader waited, the other Enforser punched a round, red button and the pod door vibrated, popped outward a little, and then whirred upward. I guessed it was sliding across the top of the pod. Within moments, a space the width and height of the pod had opened. One of the Enforsers removed the strap around my neck and the cuffs on my wrists and led me out of the pod toward a door guarded by two . . . things. They were upright but didn’t have legs.
They were a little taller than me, made entirely of a material that looked very hard but wasn’t exactly metal, and had heads with optical sensors all over them. Their “legs” extended maybe a meter. But the legs ended at a triangular-shaped track. They reminded me of the tanks in the history textbooks. Between the two tracks that each machine had was a variety of machinery, with a few wheels. The guards’ torsos were completely smooth and matte black. They reminded me of the Keepers and my stomach lurched. But as we approached, the material covering the torsos opened up, and two long arms extended. As I watched, a long barrel extended from one arm while an oblong tool with a few gold lights on it folded out from the other arm.
I glanced around the platform we stood on, letting my eyes wander up. The pod elevator had dropped around fifty meters and was now level with a narrow platform. Somewhere above us, light from Prime One combined with a pale blue fixture inset into the concrete of the elevator shaft, which meant that there were pretty much no shadows.
If I was going to be searched, now was the time. My hands were in front of me at the bottom of my zip. I scanned quickly; all of the Enforsers were watching the guard robots as we approached the door. I quickly straightened the spoke as much as I could and then, using my right hand to hold the bottom of my zip, jabbed the spoke up just inside the cloth. If I could slide the spoke up next to the metal zipper, a sensor shouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
We advanced. The Enforsers weren’t being scanned, but they were herding me right at the robots. My heart hammered wildly. I finally succeeded in pushing the spoke up inside the fabric of my zip and slid it up as fast as I could.
No more time.
The robot on the right lifted its glowing tool to the top of my head and then in front of my face. Thin arms shot out from either end of the tool, startling me and making me jump. I gripped at least ten centimeters of the spoke in my hands still and tried to push it up some more without showing any movement. I heard the arms of the tool connect as they finished circling my head. As the sensor, tool lowered, the arms extended and retracted, following the contours of my shoulders, arms, and torso. The sensor beeped softly when it got to the top of my zipper and continued beeping. By the time the sensor got to my midriff,
I held just a little of the spoke in my hand still. I hoped it was enough.
Beeping softly, the sensor continued down all the way to my feet, the arm of the robot extending with a low whir. The sensor arms retracted, and folded back into the arm of the robot. “Clear.” The voice was metallic and cold.
I let out my held breath quietly.
“Non-metallic substance, left midriff.” The cold voice sent tingles down my spine. Very creepy.
The nearest Enforser to me stood in front of me and roughly patted my left side, coming to my pocket quickly. He yanked out the pouch, opened it, and pulled out one of the silvery packets. “Just food packets.” He handed the pouch to the squad leader and then headed back to the Enforser pod.
The door slid open, revealing a long hallway lit with lights the color of the snow that we sometimes saw on mountains. Another robot guard, which had obviously just arrived, whirred to a stop just inside the corridor. I was pushed roughly forward through the door.
“Follow.” The new robot’s voice was the same as that of the other. The small triumph of having hidden the spoke was totally swallowed in the fear that filled me at these machines. I’d never heard of this kind of thing. The New Chapter had plenty of machinery and used robotic tools, but I’d never seen anything like this or heard anyone ever talk about them.
The door back to the elevator shaft slid closed, trapping me in a very long hallway, following a freaky-looking robot that rolled forward in almost complete silence.
CHAPTER 19
One thought chased another around my head, and I was unable to dislodge the cold knot of fear that had settled into my stomach. I was being taken to the Prime Administrator, or maybe someone else high up in the ranks of New Frisko’s bosses. The hallway felt cold, impersonal. A few doors lined the walls to the left and right, but they were almost unnoticeable in that they were the same pale white color as the walls, floor and ceiling. If I squinted, I felt like everything would blend into a colorless blur. Couldn’t the Prime Administrator afford to decorate a little? A little paint . . .
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