On the Run (Verity Chronicles Book 3): A Cadicle Space Opera Adventure

by T. S. Valmond

  “Did you meet any young ladies?” His aunt gave him a wink as she tried to cut him another slice of crisp.

  Oh, yep, here we go. Joe held up a hand, insisting he couldn’t eat another bite. He was stuffed to the neck and he was sure he only had room for the hot coffee she’d poured him without asking. “Yes, I met a few women.” Joe smiled at her and she seemed satisfied.

  It was his uncle that spoke up. “Anyone special, or lots of friends?”

  Joe found it hard to smile when he thought of Iza and how he’d never see her again. No wonder she was always on his mind; everything always came back to her. She was more than just a friend. Iza was more than anything he’d ever had in his life. The connection he had with her had taken months to fade, and when he thought of her, the pain wasn’t gone, only dull with her absence.

  He cleared his throat to speak. “There was one special someone.”

  Most days, he wondered about Iza and what she might be doing now. Did she get away safely, as was their deal? Was she still engaged to Karter? How was the ship faring? Had the TSS caught up to them and forced them to give up the independent jump drive? He had loads more questions with no answers.

  “Did you get the chance to tell her how you felt?” His aunt had reached her hand across the table toward his. He grasped it, knowing it would make her happy.

  “Yes, we didn’t leave anything unspoken. Though things are a bit complicated now.”

  His uncle nodded, seeming to understand his meaning. There was a sheen in his aunt’s eyes that he wished he could unsee.

  “If it’s meant to be, you’ll get together again. I promise you, the universe will bring you back together again,” she said. “Let me pack you up some leftovers.”

  Leftovers wound up filling several bowls that she placed in a bag for him to take home and return the next week, as he’d done every week since his arrival. They usually lasted a day or two and filled his lunches with something other than sandwiches.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it,” Joe said and meant it.

  He was grateful for them welcoming him home, despite him being evasive and distant. It gave him new appreciation for his parents’ judgment in character; they’d picked genuinely good friends. But his aunt and uncle’s hospitality didn’t change that Earth was only his planetary address, not where his heart wanted to be.

  His lack of commitment to the place was evidenced by the sparse furnishings in his one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment. There were no decorations or personal effects decorating the surfaces. In fact, there was nothing in the place that made the apartment look like more than a temporary pitstop. Maybe because that’s how he viewed it. He had no pictures of loved ones or anything of material importance. He’d turned everything over to the TSS and he hadn’t collected anything much on the Verity. He ground his teeth at the thought that he hadn’t remembered to leave something of himself behind.

  He returned his thoughts to getting through the rest of the work week. Thursday meant he only had two days left before Saturday—the only day he didn’t have obligations—and then the routine would reset anew with another Sunday dinner that would no doubt be identical to every Sunday for the past three months.

  Joe snatched up his gray backpack and slipped it over his shoulder. About to walk out the door, he remembered to grab his coat; he had to keep reminding himself that it was winter now, and he’d freeze without one. Normally, he’d walk, but the winter winds were picking up and he didn’t want to risk frostbite.

  Working in downtown Minneapolis was as close to being in a high-tech environment as he could find in the area. It was funny now, thinking about anything on the planet as being remotely ‘advanced’. Joe remembered the looks he used to get at TSS Headquarters when he told other Tarans he was from Earth; now, he understood how they viewed the isolated blue and green globe. Looking at the blank faces of those around him on the bus into downtown, it was clear that they were going about their business with no clue about the expanse of the universe or the people that lived among the stars.

  After he hopped off the bus in the city just beginning to wake for the morning, Joe lifted the collar of his jacket and crossed the street to the IDS building where he worked as a security guard. It was once the tallest building in the city, which Joe found hard to believe at only fifty-seven stories; it had long since been dwarfed by the buildings around it, though it remained a central hub for several large businesses in the area. He’d applied for several jobs in security, knowing it was the closest thing to being an Agent without taking a job in the government. It had been made clear to him that any such posting could put him, and others, at risk. Keeping a low profile while back on Earth was paramount to his continued ability to roam free.

  When he had turned his back on his mission, choosing to side with Iza and her crew despite their involvement in some necessary but illegal business, he’d committed treason against the Taran Empire. They could have thrown him in a prison cell for life. He knew he was fortunate to have any freedom at all. Or, maybe the TSS knew that an existence here was more punishment than being locked up—not confined but trapped all the same.

  Joe traversed the manmade park in the middle of the Crystal Court, the open first level of the tower with seven floors, to reach the elevators. He smiled at the young lady with ginger hair and a scatter of freckles over the bridge of her nose sitting at the reception desk. He couldn’t imagine doing her job—being at a desk all day, or worse, answering phones. Having to speak to people put his teeth on edge. At least security work meant, on occasion, that he could lay hands on someone who was out of line rather than having to smile and nod even when they were being an idiot.

  There was a locker room in the basement where he began and ended each day. He changed into his uniform, a black pair of pants and matching shirt and boots. On the left breast pocket of his shirt, he attached the metal name pin with his last name ANDERSON spelled out.

  “Don’t ever have kids! I don’t think I’ve slept more than two nights through in a row.” Charlie Stevens was the other security guard for the IDS on the day shift, and he had declared himself Joe’s friend from day one. He was chatty but knew how to mind his own business. Joe liked him immediately.

  “You and Jesse have plans this weekend?” Joe asked.

  “Nothing special. You’re still welcome on Saturday. Jesse is on my back about having another baby again. I keep telling her we can’t afford it on my salary, but really, I just want to sleep. Haven’t I earned a good night’s sleep?” He opened his wide-set eyes pleadingly, wrinkling the dark skin on his forehead.

  Joe laughed, knowing his friend was prone to over-exaggerate his situation in order to garner sympathy. Just the other day, he’d mentioned wanting a boy in order to have an even playing field with his wife and daughter.

  “Quit your bellyaching or you’ll end up with another daughter,” Joe said with a grin. He threw the words Charlie had used to describe his daughter back at him, “What’s worse than one cinnamon cherub with big eyes begging you for another toy?” Joe raised two fingers in the air and wiggled them at Charlie.

  Charlie’s eyes grew wide in shock at the idea of two little girls, then he shrugged. “That’s what Uncle Joe is for,” he said and gave Joe a punch in the arm.

  They went to relieve the graveyard shift guards. Charlie was tall enough he could look Joe in the eye as they walked over.

  “Speaking of girls, when are you going to take out that little receptionist?” He wiggled his eyebrows at him.

  “Nancy?”

  “Yes, the red-haired temptress that lights up at the sight of your bright blue eyes and killer smile every morning.”

  “Give me a break, Charlie,” Joe said without meeting his gaze. He’d swapped out his brown contacts for a blue closer to his natural shade, though they still blocked the bioluminescence from his abilities. Still, whenever someone looked too intently at him, he worried they’d notice something was different about his eyes.

  As they walked by
the reception desk, he glanced at Nancy. She was hard to miss, and she made sure of it. The low-cut tops and the bright red lipstick only highlighted her best features, but she wasn’t Iza.

  “What? You look like a prince from a Disney movie. You’ve got a steady well-paying job. What’s not to like? Take my advice and date her. If Jesse finds out your taste, she’ll be throwing single women at you every week.”

  “No way.” Joe shook his head.

  “I’m serious. You don’t know how hard it is to hold her back from inviting strange women to our Saturday college football evenings.”

  “Please, tell her I’m fine on my own.”

  “That won’t work. Jesse is notorious for matchmaking. Like a dog with a bone, she won’t leave you alone.” Charlie rubbed at his chin. “Are you still getting over the one that got away?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “I understand. I’ll tell her you’re not technically available. She’ll understand.”

  They punched in and started rounds, working their way up from the first floor. The early-morning office workers were just beginning to filter in. Joe always liked the quiet mornings; it helped ease into the day.

  “You are coming on Saturday, right?” Charlie asked as they walked.

  “Sure, I’ll be there.”

  They completed their first round on the building, checking in all the usual places for vagrants and mischief, starting with the loading dock where they pushed off an unwashed couple bundled under blankets sharing a cigarette. Joe called in a work order for the graffiti they found on the outside wall facing Nicolette Mall Avenue; maintenance would be out there half the day scrubbing away the three colors of ink.

  “Everyone thinks they’re the next Picasso,” Charlie said, shaking his head.

  The contrast between life in the Taran worlds and Earth was jarring to Joe. He considered the outer colonies more civilized than the selfish and egocentric attitude that permeated Earth. Maybe it was just ‘grass is greener’ thinking, but he couldn’t help it.

  Mid-morning, Joe went to take his first break for the day. He had just finished up in the restroom when he got a buzz on his walkie-talkie.

  Charlie’s voice came over the speaker, “Security to Crystal Court, we’ve got a ten-thirty-two. Requesting assistance!”

  Joe bolted toward the building entrance. There was an armed intruder in the lobby.

  He found Charlie staring down the barrel of a handgun wielded by Crazy Bob. Neither of them seemed to notice Joe’s approach over the screams and commotion on the floor.

  Crazy Bob was a regular, a homeless man with a history of mental illness. He often wandered inside of the building disturbing the patrons, but he’d never before posed a violent threat. He was more a nuisance, since he hadn’t bathed in months according to the smudges of dirt on his white skin. His graying beard and hair had yellowed and matted together in disordered clumps from the lack of care. He’d never brought a weapon before, nor had Joe ever seen him with one until today.

  “Come on Bob, you don’t want to do this. I’ve got a wife and kid at home,” Charlie said, keeping his hands at his sides unthreateningly and his voice even, though his eyes remained steady on him and his hand. “Put the gun down, and we’ll all have a nice night. We’ll get you some help, a warm meal, even a place to sleep.”

  Joe crept along the wall from the elevator to the line of trees just behind Crazy Bob. He was wearing the same clothes as always, an old worn through jumper with black stains at the knees and the rear. His boots were new, probably a gift from one of the shelters, and he wore a black coat with a hood that fell to one side held on by three snaps instead of five.

  Joe peaked around the tree to get a look at his partner. Charlie’s face was serious, perspiration running down his neck to his collar. Joe focused on what Crazy Bob was trying to say.

  “They’re here! I’m telling you, I saw the ship with my own eyes. Aliens! They’re taking over everything, man,” Bob said, pulling at a clump of hair while waving the gun in Charlie’s direction. He was known for his theatrics, but this time he was over the edge.

  Like Charlie, Joe had to assume that the weapon was loaded until proven otherwise. Any sudden moves and the gun could go off, shooting anyone in the crowd.

  Someone must have called it in, because two squad cars with flashing lights and sirens, and then three, pulled up to the building on the Nicollet Mall Avenue side. They would breach the building soon. Joe had to be ready to take Bob down if he made a move to fire the gun.

  “I saw them flying around last night while everyone was asleep. They were trying to blend in like us, but I know the truth,” he said, turning around to face the crowd and waving the gun in their direction.

  The people who’d stayed, thinking they were going to get a good show, suddenly backed off with startled exclamations. Didn’t they realize anyone with a gun was dangerous? The last thing they needed was more casualties.

  While Bob was distracted by the arrival of the police, Joe made his move. If he could distract him enough to pull the gun in his direction and away from Charlie, they’d both be able to walk away from this thing.

  “That’s enough, Bob. Time to call it a day,” Joe said. He tried to keep his voice level, even though his heart was racing. He noticed gasps above him and realized there were more bystanders on the upper levels watching Bob spiral out of control. One slip and any one of them could be injured. Joe kept his eyes on Bob, just as Charlie had done.

  “Police! Drop your weapon and get down on the ground, face down and hands behind your head!”

  Joe noted that the officer with the gun trained on Bob didn’t have a clear shot. Charlie had his back to the police. If he was still with the TSS, he could use telekinesis to disable Bob in an instant without harming anyone. The unfairness of it washed over him as he tried to focus on Bob’s shaky right hand.

  “It’s all right, Bob, you can come with us. We’ll take care of you,” Charlie said.

  “You don’t understand, they’re coming for us! If they didn’t mean us any harm, they’d tell folk they’re here instead of sneaking around.”

  “Okay, Bob,” Charlie said, turning to wave the police back. “We’ll look into it, but you’ve got to work with us and put that gun down. You might hurt someone, and then it won’t matter if it’s an alien invasion.”

  “Aren’t you listening? I saw them land the ship in the park, and then they came walking around here. They were looking for something—or someone. Talking a funny language I’ve never heard before.”

  Joe hesitated. Could Iza have come here to get me…? He might just be hearing what he wanted to hear.

  “They could have just been tourists, Bob,” Charlie said.

  Bob pawed at his head with his free hand. “No! Kept saying ‘taran’ this and ‘taran’ that. They looked like they’d never seen anything before—pointing and laughing! Sure, they were trying to look like us, but they didn’t fool me. They were aliens. You’ve gotta believe me!”

  Taran? Joe’s heart jumped in his chest. Laughing about antiquated Earth tech did seem like something Iza would do. But if she’s on Earth, then why hasn’t she reached out to me already?

  The police were fanning out and getting into position, pushing the crowd back and away from an increasingly agitated Bob.

  “You guys stay away from me! Any one of you could be one of those aliens,” he said, waving the gun at the crowd again.

  He has no idea. Joe could sense that the man’s mental state had shifted, and they need to descale the situation quickly before he acted.

  “Come on, Bob, we’ll protect you. You’ve just gotta come with us.” Charlie took a step forward.

  “You’re working with them, aren’t you?” Bob pointed the gun at Charlie’s forehead.

  Charlie’s face fell in realization. Joe heard his thoughts as if they were his own, “Don’t do this to my daughter.”

  Joe raised his hand out of instinct. “No!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The gu
n went off, but Joe was already charging forward. He had Bob on the ground with his knee in the man’s back before Charlie hit the ground.

  There were screams up above from the crowd, and then it was over. The police moved in smoothly, two coming in and cuffing Bob and another calling in an ambulance for Charlie in one quick motion.

  In a matter of seconds, Joe was able to run over to his partner. Charlie was lying on the ground, bleeding out, while the female officer held her hands pressed down on his chest where the bullet had gone in.

  Joe swore under his breath. “Bomaxed bullet.” He ripped off his black uniform shirt worn over his own bulletproof vest to press against his partner’s wound. He could’ve stopped the fight in the first place—used telekinesis to knock Bob to the ground or telepathy to command him to stand down. But it was too much of a risk that Bob would end up shooting someone else. Someone who wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest. Instead, Joe nudged Bob’s hand just as he’d pulled the trigger to aim the bullet downward, intending for it to hit Charlie’s vest, but the trajectory hadn’t change enough. It wasn’t the fatal headshot it would have been, but it had still struck him just above his vest near his clavicle.

  Charlie tried to speak but it was a gurgle. The bullet might have permeated his lung, making it hard for him to breathe.

  “You’re going to live. Hold on, partner. I can’t tell Jesse that you got hurt on my watch. No way she’ll never set me up on a date, then.” Charlie made a movement as if to laugh, but no sound came from his lips.

  Joe made room for the first responders to come over and help his partner onto a gurney. “I’ll be there as soon as we get things locked down here, and Jesse will meet you at the hospital.”

  It was a shame he couldn’t do more for him. Nanites would’ve taken care of that injury in a matter of minutes, had they had access to modern Taran medicine. It was just one of a million things that annoyed him about being on Earth.

  Since Joe had to deal with the fallout after the shooting at the IDS Center, he’d have to wait to see Charlie until later. The custodians had been called, the spectators had been cleared, and the crime scene secured with caution tape. The police officer who’d led the squad came over to take a statement from him. The man was large for a police officer, probably played ball in college and kept himself up.