“I’d never complain about having to help you. Rebecca, how many times have you saved my life in just the last twenty-four hours?”
“A few.” She smiled more fully. “But…” she shook her head, the smile slipping away, “…if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess with Sudhatho. And Yashelia. It’s my fault. What I did—”
“You used to work for her. You did some shady things, I suppose. But Rebecca, I felt like—” I fumbled for the words for what felt like far too long, especially with her watching me intently. “I’d been missing something for a long time. When I saw you—Rain—in the clean market…” I felt my face grow hot, “…I felt like I found that something, a way to feel complete.”
“That’s a lot to heap on a girl, Jeth.”
“Not more than owing you my life.”
“And I owe you my mind, so consider that settled.” She reached for the sandwich closest to her.
I followed suit.
We ate in silence for a few minutes. When the sandwiches were gone, the void in my stomach only seemed larger. I glanced at Rebecca and found her staring at me, reminding me of the way the clean she had once been looked at me, yet far different.
Rain’s eyes held no emotion, no intelligence beyond the basest of animal thought.
Rebecca gazed at me with an enigmatic curiosity melded with obvious frustration.
“Your friends. Thomas, Elizabeth, even Ryan…they share their memories with you.”
“And I share mine with them,” I said.
“You haven’t asked me to— I mean, Jeth, I can. If you want to know what I saw.”
“You wanted space,” I said, “and as much as I want to know what’s happened to you, I can wait until you’re ready.”
“Even if what I know could help protect you?”
“You need what you need. I trust you won’t let me get in too much trouble.” I winked.
Rebecca sat back and shook her head. “And you say I’m brilliant. Sure, illusion. But Jeth, you’re better with the truth than I’ve ever been.”
I felt myself glowing, but even more urgently, I experienced the need to downplay what she said, otherwise how could I claim modesty. “Hey, you don’t know if I’m lying.”
“Yeah. I do.” She stood up and walked to the window overlooking Bailey Court Garden.
I pursed my lips, searching for a reply, then gave up. I stood and followed her to the window, where traces of frost and rain haloed the view outside.
Though not as large as Yashelia’s small forest, the garden beside Lotdel Tower contained what I suspected was Nageddia’s tree at its center. The leaves of the outer trees had fallen. Evidently, the governing aeon’s influence, whatever it was, could not completely resist the storm from the past few days.
Rebecca sighed as I stood beside her.
“You think Thomas is safe?” I asked.
“As long as he’s with Celsanoggi, sure,” she said. “Is it just me, or do those two seem to know each other well?”
“They were in the service together,” I said. “Probably means she flew a light ship for air support while he fought on the ground out west.”
“Out west,” she said, “Jeth, do you know that the Green Valley is farther west than the military usually goes?”
I nodded. “The last stop before the big plains, and beyond that, the desert.”
“You ever hear from your brother?”
“He sends a letter every now and then. I wish the network could reach all the way to the western city.”
“I’m kinda glad it doesn’t,” she said.
“Your parents?”
“I don’t want to talk to them, Jeth. You know as much as I do.”
“I miss my mom and dad, even though they write when they can,” I said, “Still, I understand what you’re saying.”
“My dad wasn’t like yours,” Rebecca said, “but we don’t need to go over it now. That’s all in the past.”
“In the past,” I repeated as I thought of the forests and slopes of the place I’d grown up, and first met Rebecca. “Yeah.”
Her gaze remained on the trees below. “You know, every tree reminds me of that place, of when I first met you.”
I looked at her, but she did not turn in my direction.
She said, “I’d never seen so many trees before we went northeast that year. A little town, even smaller than the one in the valley, was all I’d seen of other people before, but it was on the edge of a desert. Not many trees out there.” She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“I don’t know if it does or not,” I said.
She nodded. “Neither do I, I guess.”
Rebecca backed away from the window. “If we’re gonna find out what matters, we need to stay alive. Stop Sudhatho. Stop Yashelia.”
“And the renegades who work with them.”
“There is one thing I don’t understand,” she said. “That grinning aeon took Carol to the garden. Who does he work for, if not Sudhatho?”
“We’ll find out what we can,” I said.
“That’s part of why I’m afraid,” said Rebecca, “in this city, there’s always another mystery.”
Verified Memory, Carol Fisher, Operations Base Center
Westward from the Chicago barriers lay the green hills of the northern central continent, once called the Great Plains. Carol rode with her team and their cleans in the same heavy military train taking the old railways to the front, a base referred to as Center.
Soon they would head east again.
Soon they would return to the city.
And when they did they would be closer to the truth about Sudhatho.
And once they knew the truth, they would have the power to give up this grunt work.
Carol dared hope for a future better than her present.
Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Light Ship Astra III
Ryan and Alesia opened their eyes from another dive into Carol’s memory. He released her hand and looked up at her face. She took a deep breath.
“I can’t believe it,” he muttered, “there’s not enough evidence on Sudhatho here. Only enough to say for sure these soldiers work for him.”
“They’re terrorists now, so that could be enough to stop him,” said Alesia.
He shook his head. “With Sudhatho’s allies high and low, I doubt it. But that isn’t all that’s bothering me.”
Alesia nodded. “She knew something she somehow kept from you, even when you meant to take everything.”
“Exactly. The information to convict Sudhatho is still in her memory somewhere.”
“Then we’d better find her,” said Alesia. She glanced at Kamuek. “You get all that, Kam?”
“Please, use my whole name,” said the aeon, “and yes.”
“Alright,” said Alesia.
Conner left the viewing port on the far side of the bridge and walked over to them.
“‘Tis a good thing I found them,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” asked Ryan.
“Asked around with some of my friends on the shadow nets.” Conner grinned. “The renegade soldiers are split up. Two of them were spotted outside Bailey Court Garden, Alan Trench, and the other woman, Miranda. Those two aren’t the ones we’re interested in, though.
“Turns out, Carol is still out of it from you taking her memories. She and Damien went to a distillery that serves custom ichor.”
“Custom ichor?” Alesia said, “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“Only the most delicate palettes ever do,” said Conner, still grinning, “and trust me, I am among them. This place is on one of the small canals which runs north and south. It’s called Clearbridge.”
“Clearbridge. Got it,” said Ryan. He networked and located the building, an old brick factory-building a few miles north of Lotdel Tower and further east, closer to the sea.
Alesia pulled back one side of her coat. She checked the modern-style automatic p
istol at her hip.
“Woah,” said Conner, “what’s with the gun?”
“You boys don’t just have me around for my purifier connections,” she said. “Let’s knock on that door.”
Ryan called out the street number of the building he had found. Kamuek needed no urging. He turned the ship toward Clearbridge.
Secure Memory, Anonymous Identity, Animal Monitor Feed
The team leader spotted the two terrorists through the eyes of a squirrel as they slipped through Bailey Court Garden.
She fought with her orders from Sudhatho for a few seconds before deciding not to leave the terrorists alone. No job was worth betraying people to die. She surprised herself at her own principles, but if one had to make a stand, one could always do it quietly.
She alerted the nearest purifier precinct and sent them the coordinates and an image feed of the two creeping through the autumn foliage. The purifiers mobilized.
Rebecca and I held hands by the window and began sensocycling to search for Yashelia. Below us, Bailey Court Garden looked peaceful beyond the glass pane, but as we searched, it became clear that was anything but the case.
Three forms met on the edge of the garden two humans with densely encrypted minds, one aeon with no identifiable mind. Alan and Miranda were meeting with Yashelia. I trembled that they were all so close to my home, however unsafe a home it had become.
Rebecca saw what I saw, felt my fear, smelled the pine and dead leaves I smelled through my projected senses. She released my hand.
“She’s down there, Jeth. We— I can stop her. Set things right.”
“She’s a rogue star, Rebecca.”
“Yeah,” she said, “but there are ways to kill aeons.”
My eyes widened as I looked at her cold expression. She turned and picked up the pistol and holster from the coffee table. Rebecca walked to the door of my apartment. I followed her, dreading what lay below us, but unwilling to even consider letting her go alone.
“This will be safer if I go by myself,” said Rebecca.
“No deal,” I said, “I’m seeing this through.”
“Stay behind me.”
“Sure. But remember, there are three of them and only one of you. I can help even the odds.”
“As long as you even the odds from behind me, I won’t complain.”
I saw no way to stop her, though I wished I could have. I followed her into the hall and to the elevator.
When we reached the lobby, she took my hand for a second. We cycled.
“They haven’t moved,” said Rebecca. “Remember. Behind me. And stay as quiet as you can.”
I nodded.
We went out the front doors, then around the eastern side of the building. We crept upwind toward the garden’s edge. Yashelia and the renegades were pretty deep in. Self-conscious of every leaf crackling under my feet, I followed Rebecca between the trees, staying low so what little scrub remained could give us a chance to hide.
A siren went off, a real audible siren, not the usual mental alarm or alert.
I looked but saw nothing beyond the gray clouds and leafless branches overhead. Further in, the garden remained mostly green, and as I looked toward the center, I saw the three Rebecca was after.
Yashelia looked as otherworldly and pale as ever, hood thrown back to expose yellow hair.
Miranda glanced at Alan as the siren went off. I could not hear her words. Alan shook his bearded head in reply.
“Purifiers,” Rebecca breathed. “They’re sending in a strike team.”
Even as she spoke, Yashelia turned in our direction. Rebecca drew the revolver. I stared at the lethal monster as Yashelia prowled toward us. A sniper took the shot on her. Blood erupted from one shoulder, but rather than slowing or falling, Yashelia broke into a charge. She covered the ground between us effortlessly.
Rebecca’s finger tensed over the trigger.
At the last second, Yashelia veered behind a tree. Miranda and Alan also took cover where they could find it.
I touched Rebecca’s arm.
“We should get back.”
“She’ll kill again,” Rebecca said.
“We’ll follow her, do what we can. But we can’t stay here.”
Rebecca gave me a grudging nod. We followed Yashelia along the edge of the park. As unbelievable as it felt to me, we were hunting a rogue star.
Unregistered Memory, Elizabeth Ashwood, Lotdel Tower
A news alert rattled Elizabeth’s senses as she stepped out of the elevator onto the ground floor of Lotdel Tower. A warning bulleting appeared in her mind when she reached for it. She received a message from her newsroom chief an instant later.
Hey, boss, are you alright? Something big is going on in your neighborhood.
I’m checking it out now, she sent back, and then read the bulletin.
We are aware of a terrorist situation in Bailey Court Garden. Residents within five blocks-radius should seek shelter. Take extreme caution. The terrorists are suspected to be the same ones behind the train station attacks.
Elizabeth scowled. News was unfolding right across the street. I’m strong enough, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take this chance, she thought. Jeth thinks the terrorists are working with Sudhatho’s organization. Time to get eyes on them again.
She marched out the doors and into the small crowd formed outside. People were looking around the east side of the tower. A temperate breeze came from the same direction, carrying the scent of trees as well as something else. Is that gunpowder?
Shots rang out, muffled by distance. This is really happening, Elizabeth thought. She opened her mind, extended her senses, and slipped toward the front of the crowd, trying to get a better view of the action in the garden.
She emerged from the crowd, eyes locked on the garden’s edge. A team of six purifiers moved in from the street between Bailey Court and Lotdel Tower. Elizabeth spotted more purifiers combing through the trees from the north. They could well have the park surrounded.
In the gray light of day, she spotted a solitary figure crouching behind a tree, holding a shotgun. His bald head and beard made him unmistakable. Alan Trench opened fire on the purifiers as they advanced on him.
One of the purifiers took a shot between the plated guards of his leg armor. A flicker of red and he went down to one knee. Alan ducked back as the next handful of purifiers retaliated. The sounds of gunshots beat a staccato in the air.
Elizabeth took an involuntary step forward. She stared as the firefight unfolded. Alan wounded another purifier but had his arm clipped in return. A man from the crowd stepped forward, staring vacantly.
At first, Elizabeth thought the man was simply overwhelmed at witnessing the sights and sounds of the battle. Few people actually encountered such danger in the city. Then, she saw his hollow eyes, and he broke into a run, along with four other people. The group of bystanders rushed toward the purifiers shooting at Alan.
Someone is controlling them, Elizabeth thought in shock, but Alan is pretty occupied to be breaking down their defenses.
She scowled as she spied a flicker of movement in the carefully separated trees east of Alan’s position. A young woman in a black jacket with brown hair retreated from the fray. She held no weapon, but Elizabeth recognized Miranda. Even the glazed look of someone networking was identifiable with the sharpening of senses from her ichor.
“Damn it, stop!” Elizabeth shouted at the charging people under Miranda’s control.
Two purifiers turned toward the bystanders, weapons halfway raised. A man and a woman intervened between the five people and the purifiers before the security troops could open fire.
Thomas shoulder checked one man, looking no worse for wear with his reported wounds from the morning freshly healed. The charger he hit fell against another. Both went down.
The aeon with him, Celsanoggi, dark haired and pale, dragged a man and woman to the ground, one in each hand. Her leg snaked out and tripped the fifth person, though they all continu
ed to struggle.
Thomas saluted the two troopers at the garden’s edge. He just has to be a hero, Elizabeth thought.
The purifiers lowered their guns.
Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the continued shoot-out between Alan and the other purifiers.
The renegade soldier bled from wounds to both arms and one leg. He dropped his empty shotgun and went for a pistol at his hip. His wounded arm moved jerkily. A purifier that had advanced on him from one side, raced forward and clobbered Alan to the ground with the butt of his rifle.
Elizabeth looked after Miranda, but she was gone.
The people she had controlled stopped struggling against Thomas and Celsanoggi. The fight was over.
Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Clearwater Bridge
Kamuek’s light ship dropped Ryan and Alesia off a few blocks away, and they covered the streets to Clearwater Bridge quickly and cautiously. Ryan did what he could to conceal their presence from prying eyes. They approached the old factory building and current distillery, where the coming winter had done nothing to dispel the creeping moss on the canal-side.
Alesia took the lead as they approached the doors. She checked to see if the place was open. It wasn’t. The door leading inside was locked.
“Stand back,” she said.
Ryan obeyed.
Alesia uncoiled a kick, then another. The second boot-fall crunched against the peeling white paint, and the door broke off its lock, swinging inward. Alesia checked the interior for booby traps and seemed satisfied. She stepped inside. Ryan followed close behind her.
The distillery only appeared closed from the outside. A shout rang out over vats of bubbling liquid and echoed between titration tubes. People scrambled from all over the building either fleeing toward the other exits or grabbing weapons, mostly firearms.
Ryan put his hand to the back of Alesia’s neck, where the skin was exposed. He used every ounce of his illusion to block the two of them from as many of the people with guns as he could.
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