The Cleanway

by Tim Niederriter

  “It’s dark. We’ll have to take our chances,” I said.

  “No illusions?” asked Thomas.

  “Not unless you have some more stamina,” Rebecca said. “I’m fresh out.”

  I helped Rebecca back into the van. Thomas took the wheel once again.

  We found a refugee motel a few blocks away, and they had rooms left. Two beds for all of us to spend the night. Thomas sheepishly offered Celsanoggi one of them. Rebecca tugged me toward the other. The two of us slept in our clothes, close together in a soft embrace.

  When morning broke, the clouds remained, but the sun gleamed through the gaps in the blinds. Rebecca rolled away from me.

  I climbed out of bed without waking her and found Thomas curled up beside Celsanoggi. With her wet hooded sweatshirt from the previous night’s disguise discarded, she looked almost like an ordinary woman. Only the wounds in her hands and feet gave her away. She opened one eye and looked at me.

  “Thank you,” she said, “for following me. It’s been too long since I’ve had friends.” She looked at Thomas sleeping beside her. “Even this one hadn’t spoken to me in some time.”

  “Guess there’s a bright side to everything,” I said.

  “Perhaps.” Celsanoggi smiled slightly, then turned toward Thomas. She put a hand on his shoulder.

  Suddenly uncomfortable, I returned to the bed I shared with Rebecca. She was still asleep. All her illusions seemed to have taken a lot out of her. I smiled as I thought of the skill it took to mislead two minds at once with a complex projection like the one we had made together.

  We made a good team. Time had not changed that fact. And I could still hope there was more to be rediscovered. I walked to the foot of the bed, almost tripping over mine and Rebecca’s discarded shoes. There, I steadied myself. Rebecca stirred.

  “Jeth, turn off the sun,” she murmured, then rolled back over.

  I smiled and closed the blinds the rest of the way. We needed a break. But while the others went on sleeping, I reached out to Elizabeth, to assure her we were all safe. I told her, best as I could describe, what had happened. When that was done, I laid down beside Rebecca once again. And I drifted off for a few more hours.

  Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Military Command Center Alpha

  “The attack last night,” said Cannwald, who then paused to breathe, “was unlike any of the others we’ve seen so far.”

  “Correct, sir,” said Ryan with a grimace.

  “Do we know if it was the same renegades?” asked Cannwald.

  “Just one of them,” Ryan said, “though, before I heard Captain Linniker’s report I would not have thought it possible for one person to do so much damage. The cleans under Damien’s command—they took human lives by his will.”

  “So it would seem,” said Cannwald. “I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger like that, even against what we could gain. You and your team should turn in all information you have, and stop your investigation at once.”

  “What are you saying, sir? You won’t risk our lives, but you will let the renegades get away with murder?”

  “That is just it.” Cannwald mopped his sweaty forehead. “We must end this investigation at once.”

  “We’ve already stirred up a hornet’s nest,” said Ryan. “We can’t let them win. Think about the precedent that would set, sir.”

  “You have your orders, Detective. Kamuek will take you and your team back to your homes immediately.”

  “Sir, with all due respect—”

  “Immediately, Carter!”

  “I’m a citizen of this city, sir. After what happened last night, I can’t follow that order.” Ryan clenched his fists. “To let the renegades go is not your choice to make.”

  He forced his hands open, eyes locked with Cannwald’s.

  “Is that what you believe?” Cannwald asked. His eyes turned frigid, and he looked less like an old man and more like a callous officer. “Well, Detective, your opinion is noted. But I am your employer and senior officer. That means the call is indeed mine. I decide when the mission is over, and in case you forgot, I brought you in on this in the first place. Do you really think I don’t remember you from the academy? You studied harder than anyone else, but I never thought it was on account of some streak of self-righteousness…And that’s all you are displaying right now—No, don’t interrupt me. You are an excellent analyst and a good detective, but it’s my job to protect those under my command, as well as the city.

  “The fact is this, Carter. You do not know the price we will all pay if you continue to pursue this thread. The innovations that helped humanity survive the mind plague itself are at risk. You think you understand our situation? The lives of ten, or twenty, or a hundred people may be at stake, but I would sacrifice a thousand citizens to save the rest.”

  Cannwald seethed. Sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped from his brow. He tossed his handkerchief onto the table between him and Ryan.

  “The information I have is highly sensitive. If I told you anything else, I would not be able to let you leave this base. You’d become a prisoner, and I doubt anyone would invade a secure facility to save you. Take this chance, Carter. Live to spy another day. If only more of our operators took advice like what I’m giving you now, we might not be in this mess.”

  Ryan stared at Cannwald, mouth ajar. “Sir. I don’t know what you know.”

  “And God-willing, you’ll never have to!” said Cannwald. His face contorted into a snarl. “You are better off not knowing.”

  Ryan’s lips twitched, temper flaring as he considered how to protest.

  He hesitated.

  “Sir—”

  “The mission is over, Carter. The powers that be aren’t happy I brought you and your team in on this in the first place. I’m the only one who will thank you for your service, but I am truly grateful.” Cannwald held out his hand, palm up. “Shake, then say goodbye, Carter.”

  Ryan met Cannwald’s eyes. The colonel’s cold gaze, more intense than before, froze Ryan for a second.

  He shook himself mentally, then reached for Cannwald’s hand.

  Their hands locked together, and their networks connected. Two secure, heavily encrypted sets of neurological orders converged. Just when Ryan expected Cannwald to request his recovered memories, the colonel silently transferred a file to him instead. Beneath layers of encryption and security, its title read clearly to Ryan.

  Who Really Rules the City

  Cannwald pulled Ryan a step closer.

  Be careful with that, he sent.

  Ryan’s head surged with questions, with gratitude. The colonel said one thing for whoever was watching, but his private link sent the opposite message. Ryan closed his eyes.

  “Thank you sir. Goodbye.”

  Good luck.

  “Best to you,” said Cannwald out loud. “My adjutant will add credit to each of your accounts.”

  Cannwald released Ryan’s hand.

  Ryan saluted the colonel.

  Cannwald shook his head. “Not anymore, Carter. Now you’re a civilian again.” His tone softened. “Go. Do what you can for the city.”

  Ryan turned and left the room without another word to Cannwald. He met his team outside, and they boarded Kamuek’s small light ship to fly southward.

  He had plans to show them on the way, especially Kamuek. If Ryan and his team were to have a chance at combating Sudhatho, and whoever else wanted the investigation shut down, they would need all the help they could get. Kamuek might be a minor aeon, but he was still an aeon.

  Time to roll the dice, Ryan thought as he boarded the light ship with the others.

  They took off in a flurry of birds from the nearby buildings and flew into the cold wind.

  The refugees in the motel began to move in numbers at about nine in the morning. Noise from the neighboring rooms brought me around. A train rumbled by on the tracks near the motel, adding to the din. I sat up in bed and found the others were already awake.
/>   Rebecca was in the bathroom, but Thomas and Celsanoggi were already fully dressed. She sat on the edge of the other bed, testing weight on her leg gingerly. Eventually, she stood. Thomas stood beside her, ready to support her if she stumbled. Odd as it was to see a human protective of an aeon, I could guess their shared history had something to with his willingness, as well as the way she had touched his shoulder while he slept in the early hours.

  Except for the trousers I already wore, my clothes, lying spread across the floor by the walls, were all still damp from the night before. I put on my clammy shirt and shoes, followed by the jacket, and then turned as Rebecca stepped out of the bathroom. Even given the lack of most hygiene products or a change of clothes, she still glowed. Rest had done her a lot of good.

  She walked to the bed and sipped from my flask of ichor, then picked up her purse. A cluster of electrical wires emerged from its top. I glanced at the lamp on the end table and confirmed its cords were cut, and the back-up battery had been removed.

  Rebecca did not seem to notice my gaze.

  “Looks like they’re on to us,” she said.

  “Who?” asked Celsanoggi, shaking on her wounded leg.

  Thomas put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. He turned toward Rebecca. “I’d like to know that, too.”

  “Alan and Miranda,” Rebecca said. “Evidently they managed to track us. They’re at the front desk.”

  “Time to get out of here then,” said Thomas.

  “Agreed,” said Celsanoggi.

  I walked to the door. “We’re pretty far from them. If we hurry, we should be able to get to the van.” I turned the handle and slipped into the hallway.

  The others followed me, Celsanoggi limping with Thomas’ help.

  Clusters of refugees flowed down the hall toward the front of the building. We went the opposite way, moving as fast as we could without running. The emergency exit at the far side of the building led out to the parking lot, but Thomas’ van was out front. We would have to circle around.

  Chill air and the smell of diesel from the nearby high street assailed my senses, not needing any ichor to increase their vividness. I led the way through the parking lot, careful of the ice on the pavement. The others were right behind me at first. With her limp, Celsanoggi had more trouble with the ice. She and Thomas fell behind by the time we got to the front lot.

  I spotted the van just ahead, then glanced back. At the motel’s front door, Alan Trench stood, looking fierce. He pointed at me and Rebecca. Miranda came out the door behind him. She reached for a weapon in her coat.

  Celsanoggi and Thomas were still a good dozen yards from the van.

  “Rebecca!” I reached for her hand.

  We need to stop her, I sent, completing the thought I had started at a yell.

  She handed me the ichor flask. I drank and got too much at once. The world went brilliant and bright. The sky gleamed in every gap between the remaining clouds. Lucky for us, Rebecca had full control of her senses. She dragged my mentality to hers, steadying my perceptions. As Miranda drew her pistol, we smashed through her mental defenses and intercepted her motor commands. She hesitated.

  Thomas and Celsanoggi caught up with us, heads down and moving as fast as they could, despite slipping and sliding on the slick asphalt.

  Alan drew a weapon of his own: a sawed-off shotgun. He marched into the parking lot and leveled the weapon at us.

  Thomas helped Celsanoggi into the van, then ran around the front to get to the driver’s door.

  Rebecca and I backed after them. She maintained the lock on Miranda for another second. Alan cleared the first row of cars. His finger entered the trigger-guard. Neither of us would be able to stop him.

  The van’s engine roared. Thomas backed past us, straight at Alan. The renegade soldier pulled the trigger, spraying the already bullet-riddled back of our ride with a dozen pellets. None of them got past the van’s bulk. Rebecca and I broke our concentration and ran to the doors.

  Inside, I kept my head down. “Drive!” I said though the doors were still open. Thomas listened. He hit the gas and we pulled out of the parking lot, past frightened-looking refugees.

  We only got one block away when the sound of motorcycle engines roared in pursuit. Thomas checked the fuel gauge. “This is bad, people. We’re below empty. There’s no more gas to give.”

  Rebecca pointed forward. “There’s a train station up ahead, and it’s almost 9:30, so the next train should be there soon.”

  As if to confirm her words, a horn blew from the elevated tracks on our left.

  Thomas grunted. “I’ll pull over at the station.

  Miranda zipped between us and the train. Her pistol bullets broke the driver’s window with two shots. Blood drops spattered across the wheel. With a yell of pain, Thomas swerved toward her. She braked, and avoided the van’s bulk. Thomas got us back on course, and we cruised to a stop on the street beside the train station. He unbuckled with a groan, then slumped in his seat.

  “Thomas!” I said in unison with Celsanoggi.

  She unbuckled and climbed forward to grab him. With her aeon strength, she dragged him with her as she left through the driver’s door. Rebecca and I caught up as she half-carried, half-dragged him, haltingly toward the station.

  He looked at me with hazy eyes. “Jeth, how bad is it?”

  “She hit you in the shoulder and the arm,” said Celsanoggi. “You’ll live if we can get you help soon enough.”

  “How far to Lotdel Tower?” he murmured.

  “It’s just a half-hour by train,” said Rebecca.

  “Celsa,” said Thomas, “sorry I left you alone. Never meant to disappear.” He passed out but kept breathing.

  We hauled him through the turnstiles and across the platform. The motorcycle engines died outside as the train arrived on the far side of the platform. The commuters gave us frantic glances, but a different sight quickly distracted them from us.

  Miranda and Alan followed us into the station, leading a dozen cleans.

  The four of us booked it toward the train.

  I lowered Thomas into a seat on the train, and then looked over my shoulder. Alan and Miranda weren’t visible on the platform. Their controlled cleans encircled the people left behind. I hoped they wouldn’t hurt people without reason. The two renegades were after us, not just in the station to cause chaos.

  Celsanoggi slid into the seat beside Thomas and pressed her gloved hands to his wounded shoulder and arm. With her strength, the areas around the wounds quickly turned pale.

  She looked up at me and Rebecca. “I think I can keep him stable.”

  “Now we just have to keep them from finding us.” Rebecca turned to me. “I think they’re on the train.”

  The doors slid closed, and the train pulled away from the platform.

  “You can’t be serious,” I said, “We’re stuck with them until we get to the station.”

  “Unless they have aeon-killing weapons, we could turn that to our advantage,” said Rebecca. She motioned to Celsanoggi, who was intently focused on Thomas.

  His face appeared even paler than hers. The frames of his glasses cast dark lines across his features.

  I whispered to Rebecca, “She’s occupied. We need to stop them, the two of us.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  She looked around the car, trying to spot the renegades. “They must be in one of the other cars.”

  “Should we split up?”

  “If we want to get killed, yes.” She did not sound ironic.

  I frowned, sheepish at my silly question.

  “Rebecca,” I said, “let’s search the train. Forward cars first.”

  “That’s a better idea.” She took my hand.

  Our senses leaped out, with her expert cycling keeping them regulated. We cleared the three cars remained ahead of us on the train, then turned our attention to those behind our car. Three cars back, we found them, along with four of their cleans from the station.
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br />   They still had their weapons readied and were searching the passengers. I gritted my teeth. Miranda brandished her machine gun while Alan moved among the people, flanked by two cleans, inspecting every passenger, looking for us and wary of illusion.

  How long before they start moving forward? I messaged to Rebecca.

  She sent back immediately. Not long. They’re pros at this.

  As if to confirm Rebecca’s words, Alan turned to Miranda and nodded. She walked to the door leading ahead on the train.

  “They’re moving,” I muttered.

  Just two more cars between us and them with at least ten minutes from here to Lotdel Station.

  Rebecca led me by the hand, back through the car. “We need to get the drop on them if they get too close,” she said, “And none of us have a weapon.”

  “Thomas,” I said, “he might.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “I checked him already.”

  “So, it’s two of us without guns against six of them, including two armed.”

  “One positive side, they definitely have a time limit,” said Rebecca. “There are security forces waiting for us at the station ahead.”

  “As long as there isn’t some kind of clean attack before we get there.” I scowled. “Ten minutes.”

  “Nine,” corrected Rebecca. “But they ignored the second car back.”

  “So they’re just one from us,” I said.

  She nodded. “Miranda is cycling, and fast. Even without Alan helping her, she’ll be onto us quick since they’ve gotten so close.” Rebecca looked into my eyes. “You know, Jeth, this could be useful.”

  “What? They’ll be all over us as soon as they come through this door.”

  “Right. Now help me put an illusion over Thomas and Celsa. We’ll run, and they’ll hide.”

  I bit my lip. “I’m not sure about this, Rebecca.”

  “Trust me.”

  “I do.”

  “Then help me hide them. Quick.”

  We wove an illusion of a pair of people cringing in fear against each other over our friends. Rebecca added the sounds and small gestures to make it convincing. We completed the illusion in two minutes. I opened my eyes.