by Toby Minton
As much as Impact didn't want to be comforted by the thief—or even listen to him talk, for that matter—his tension eased at his words. Corso was right. Nikki was safe with Savior. He wanted her for something. The way he'd talked about Michael and her made that clear enough. They were important to him for some reason. Important enough for Savior to go to the trouble of taking her with him. While he left me pounded into the floor.
Thinking of his failure filled the void left by his tension with a rapid influx of shame. He'd had his chance to take down his father, and he'd blown it. He still didn't understand how. Savior's talk of oaths and vows didn't make any sense. What did a vow matter if he wanted to do something? He wanted more than anything to take Savior down, didn't he? As for Nikki, he hadn't made any vow to save her. He just wanted to. That was why he was here. That was the only reason.
But as soon as he thought it, he knew that wasn't true. An image popped into his mind, a memory of Michael holding his arm in the train car and asking him to get to Nikki. His response echoed through his head as clearly as if he were there again. “If she's alive, I'll keep her that way—You have my word.”
He shivered at the memory.
The rear hatch of Savior's transport slid open, and there she was, sitting in a padded command chair with her legs tucked up against her chest. Nikki. Safe and sound.
Despite his earlier comments, Corso started closing the gap. Apparently the sight of her was too much even for him to resist.
She wasn't alone, of course. Savior stood in the opening looking out at them. Impact could see his eyes, see him weighing his options. For a minute, he just knew Savior was going to destroy them. He could. With barely any effort he could cripple their ship and send them plummeting to the earth.
Instead, he turned to Nikki and held out his hand.
“What the hell is he doing?”
Impact wished he shared Corso's confusion, but to him it was obvious. The body language was unmistakable. Savior was giving her the choice he'd given Impact ten years ago. Would her refusal have the same consequences?
Impact's heart pounded as he watched Nikki slip to the deck. When he'd faced this choice himself, he'd been full of bitter anger. She looked beaten down. She looked completely lost. Empty. And she was clearly refusing to look back at their transport. He knew that feeling. The night he'd left with Elias, he'd worked hard to not look back as they drove away. As young as he was at the time, he'd still known that looking back might make him change his mind.
Don't, Nikki.
“Don't do it, girl,” Corso echoed his thought. “Don't do what you're thinking. Don't you do it. Don't! NO!”
Without looking up, Nikki closed her eyes, and jumped.
“Shit!”
Impact barely registered Corso's shout. The second Nikki rolled over the edge, a tingle rippled through his chest and he acted. He slapped the rear hatch release, spun and vaulted down the steps into the bay.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Four strides, the weakest beginning of building a charge, and he dove headfirst through the opening hatch.
Impact left the ship like a bullet, but the rushing air caught the back of his head immediately and flipped him under. He flailed and tumbled through the air in an increasingly wild free fall.
He wasted several seconds on sheer panic as he overcorrected first one way then another, succeeding only in making his tumbling and spinning more violent and erratic. It wasn't until he surrendered enough to let the force of the air position his body the way it wanted that he finally stabilized enough to look for Nikki.
She was below him, dropping almost gracefully, her arms and legs spread wide like she was embracing the fall itself. Like she was embracing death.
The tingle in his chest rippled again, and Impact shifted and used the wind whipping past him to aim his body at hers. It worked a little too well. The gap between them closed rapidly.
Too late, Impact realized the rush he was feeling wasn't just from the wind. The friction of the fall was building the envelope around him. He was building a charge. Before he could react, they collided and Nikki rebounded off his shield and tumbled away as he shot past.
He spread his limbs and slowed as best he could, then reoriented himself. It took all his effort to keep the envelope from forming as he closed on her again. This time when he hit, he wrapped his arms around her and held on.
He had her. She was unconscious from their first collision, but he had her.
Now what? He hadn't thought this through. He hadn't thought at all. He'd just reacted, to that vow. Just like Savior—
Not helping.
He was building a charge again. He could feel the friction against him lessoning as the envelope formed. He could use that, use his ability. He could use it to slow down just like he'd practiced. Except he'd failed every time he'd tried, in the gym, under ideal conditions.
It doesn't matter! Make it work, he ordered himself. Make it work or you're both dead. You and Nikki. Dead.
He focused and the patch formed instantly, a small area on the envelope where the friction suddenly increased instead of decreasing, and he tumbled to the left like he'd taken a blow, barely holding onto Nikki.
He righted himself and quickly tried again, but again the patch sent him tumbling out of control instead of slowing him down.
He was doing this all wrong. Small patches turned him, he knew that. He needed a bigger patch. He needed to slow them down.
As soon as he righted them again, he concentrated on the entire bottom half of the envelope, took a breath, and imagined it hardening. It worked, but it didn't slow them. Instead they slid left and if anything went faster.
Impact realized at that moment, as he watched the rocks and trees under them growing large enough to come into focus, that he'd been thinking about the envelope all wrong. It wasn't a fixed object. It was constantly moving, just like the air rushing around it. It was billions of particles in motion. For his plan to work, he would have to not just change the friction on one area of the envelope at one instant, he'd have to change it constantly. He'd never tried anything like that before. And he had only seconds to figure it out.
He looked at the ground rushing toward them, then at Nikki in his arms, the tingle in his chest echoing the pulse of the building charge. “You have my word.”
Gideon
How did this happen? How could I have been wrong? The thoughts repeated in his head as he approached the others slowly, carrying Kate in his arms. She was breathing evenly, sleeping soundly. She, at least, would survive this day. She would live, for now. In the long term, she, like the rest of the planet, was doomed thanks to Gideon's mistakes.
He'd been so careful in the days leading up to this. Or so he'd thought. He'd studied the twins day and night, searching for some sign of which one to protect, and which one to...
His gaze fell on Michael's body, on Elias gently covering his wounds, and for the first time since he'd settled on this path, he stepped outside the creature's emotional barrier. He needed to feel everything here. He owed the boy that much. He owed him his grief, his remorse, and most assuredly his guilt. He owed the world his guilt for failing it so completely.
The vision of Savior's downfall had always been the hardest to see. Over the years, each time he'd found it, it would slip through his fingers still half-understood. For years he knew only that one of Savior's own creations would take his life, thus breaking a chain of events that would lead to mankind's destruction.
Then, one day earlier this year, he'd seen the vision more clearly than ever, and for the first time he'd recognized the twins in the vision and realized one of them would be Savior's destroyer. But the vision was still in flux. The person battling Savior shifted from Michael to Nikki and back again with each twist and turn of the struggle, and as ever before, the vision escaped him before he could analyze it further. Each time he'd glimpsed the vision since that day, it had been the same—always in flux.
As was i
ts sister vision, the one where Savior, wielding more power than he'd ever possessed, carried the twin responsible for that power from the field of battle. The only thing Gideon knew for certain about both visions was that one twin would give Savior power, and the other would take his life. But he'd never been able to unravel their destinies enough to tell which was which.
Until this last time. The last time he'd glimpsed the vision of Savior's demise, what seemed like only a matter of hours ago, he'd chased it, hunted it, dragged it back from the mists to study it, even though it meant staying too long on the other side. And this time, even though the vision shifted from one twin to the next as always, for the first time he heard a voice. That single, strong voice told him who was battling Savior. Nikki's voice. Of that one element he was certain. And acting upon that evidence had led to…this.
He eased Kate to the ground, and Padre stepped over and crouched beside her. “She'll be fine,” Gideon told him as he started checking her vitals. “Thanks to Michael.”
Elias pulled his eyes from Michael for the first time since Gideon's arrival. He looked at Kate, at the tiny scar over her eye. Then he looked up at Gideon, and there was no mistaking the cold anger beneath the pain. A reckoning was coming there. A well deserved reckoning. When the time came, Gideon wasn't sure he'd fight Elias's wrath. Not after this.
What did I miss?
He had been so sure. He'd heard Nikki's voice cursing Savior as she choked the life out of him, he was certain. But minutes ago, he'd witnessed Savior unleashing more raw power than he'd displayed since the first days after the Event. Then he’d carried Nikki into his ship, and in that moment, Gideon's perception had shifted. The flawed Gateway design he'd seen in the transmission, the claims of using Nikki to power the device—it all came together. Savior had been harvesting her energy the whole time. He'd siphoned off the power his machines collected from her, and in so doing he'd supercharged his own abilities. Nikki had made him more powerful than ever. Which meant the twin who was destined to bring Savior down…was lying at Gideon’s feet.
The rest of the team straggled in. Mos and Gram came in from the east, Gram with his limp more pronounced and his fatigues drenched in sweat. Otherwise, they were both unharmed. Ace came around the hangar from the south carrying Coop over her shoulder.
“Easy, easy,” Coop groaned as they got close. “I'm an athlete, Amazon. I need this leg.”
“Quit whining,” Ace said as she eased him down and straightened back up to stretch her back. “And I'm an athlete. You're…something else. Oh, and you're welcome, by the way.”
“You were pretty amazing back there,” Coop admitted. “Thanks for saving my bacon.”
Ace grunted and nodded but otherwise didn't reply. She spotted Michael as Mos took a knee beside Elias, and she held up a hand and shook her head at Coop to shut him up. But he'd noticed as well and already fallen silent.
No one said a word, in fact, until the call came in.
“This is Corso. They're falling.”
Elias was on his feet in an instant. “Say again, Corso.”
“She jumped. She just bloody jumped, and Impact went after her. Repeat, they are falling—without chutes.”
Someone groaned an oath or a prayer.
Elias's jaw tightened, and his hand dropped to his sidearm, consciously or not, Gideon couldn't tell. Then Elias looked at him, and Gideon met his eyes without trying to hide what he was feeling.
“Track back, Corso. Find where they land. I want confirmation.” Elias lifted his eyes to the sky like he had a chance of seeing them. Some of the others did as well.
The seconds ticked by, but no one moved.
“Heads up!” Corso barked over the com. “I—incoming!”
“Have mercy,” Mos growled, stepping back and looking straight up.
All eyes went up, except Gideon's. He kept his gaze on Elias. He watched him searching the sky and trying to harden himself for yet another blow. He wished he could shelter his friend from this pain. More importantly, he wished he could promise he'd never be the cause of anything like it again. But the truth was, what he was trying to prevent was bigger than any one of them, and Gideon knew, despite what felt like overwhelming remorse to him now, that as soon as he found another way to change Earth’s destiny, he would do anything it took to save their world. I'm sorry, old friend.
Out of the corner of his human eye he saw Padre lower his gaze to the western tree line. The sniper's eyes narrowed, then he shouted, “Scatter! Move!”
The team reacted instantly but with varying degrees of speed. Gram barely got down in time as Impact and Nikki streaked over the trees—horizontally.
They rocketed in at a low, shallow angle, snapping off some of the higher limbs then missing Gram by barely half a meter. At the last second, Impact rolled over onto his back with Nikki wrapped up in his arms against his chest, and they touched down. They skipped twice, then skimmed across the ground, disappearing under a growing dust trail before plowing into the rubble behind the hangar.
Gideon held back in the rush to reach them. It was too much to ask that Nikki be alive. After all that had gone wrong today, after all the mistakes and crumbled plans, he had no optimism left at the moment. He was prepared for the worst when he stepped into the dust and followed the others' gazes. He wasn't prepared to see Impact in one piece, looking as surprised as everyone else, and Nikki blinking and coughing on top of him—a handful of scratches the only evidence of her fall.
Chapter 44
Nikki
Nikki closed the journal as the first few drops of rain hitting the page threatened to wash away what she’d written. It was a start, just a couple of pages of scribbling in the small book Ace had given her. She hadn’t even gotten into the actual story yet, but she was going to as soon as she got back inside. She didn't want to lose any of it. She’d lost too much already. She couldn’t handle losing anything else right now.
She tucked the journal into the pocket of her short jacket, wrapped her arms around herself, and raised her eyes back up to the headstone they’d placed on the bluff overlooking the sound. Michael would have wanted this spot for himself. He’d always had a thing for watching water, as boring as that sounded to Nikki. In the short time they’d been with Gideon and the others, she’d found him up here at this particular spot watching the sunset more than a few times, usually with Kate.
Jesus—Kate. She was still recovering from her injuries, so they hadn’t told her about Michael yet. Nikki had asked to be the one to do it. She needed to be the one.
She hated herself for teasing Michael about Kate, for telling him she was a waste of time. If she hadn’t, maybe he’d have spent more time with her, had more of a relationship, maybe had a chance to see what being in love was like before—
Hell, who was she kidding? He wouldn’t have gotten to first base if he’d had ten more years. Not unless Kate had given him the intentional walk.
She laughed a little and wiped the rain, or partly rain, from her eyes, blinking against the increasing downpour as she looked at Michael’s stone. It just said “Michael Flux. My Hero.” It wasn’t enough, and it was corny, but Nikki didn’t care. He was her hero, even though she'd never told him that. He always would be. He was everything she’d never cared enough to be, and he’d died to save her, the screw-up.
“Idiot,” she said to the stone, feeling her anger surge up under the pain. “What the hell were you thinking?”
You would have done the same.
What she meant by that thought, Nikki had no idea. Not a single part of her thought she would have let that monster kill her. She would have fought it with everything she had. She would have tried to pull that building apart even if she didn’t have the strength. If Michael had been the one in that tank, she would have bull-rushed the place, as usual. And she would have failed him.
No. You wouldn’t have. I know you. Now more than ever.
What the hell was wrong with her? She knew damn well what she would have don
e in his place. She would have screwed it all up, and Savior would have drained him dry, and he’d be gone. Just like he was now.
You’re wrong.
“Stop doing that!” she yelled at herself. From behind her, she heard Sam or Elias take a couple steps toward her, but the other must have stopped him. Good thing too. Stepping into the middle of an argument between an unstable girl and her brain was asking for trouble.
I’m still here.
Well no shit I’m here, she thought. Where else would I—
No, Nikki. It’s me—I'm still here.
Finally it sunk in. She wasn’t fighting with herself. Only one person argued with every word out of her mouth, or brain, like that. She really should have known from the start. She’d been fighting with him all her life.
Nikki collapsed to her knees under the realization and the tears came in force. After a weak and ultimately futile attempt to hold back, she let it all out. She wept like she'd never stop, for the first time since she’d seen him lying on the ground under her, broken. All the pain. All the anger. All the guilt. All the loneliness. Her hot tears washed it all out onto his grave.
She went on forever, it seemed, the rain keeping up with her as she cried out everything she'd been holding back. At some point during the flood, Elias came forward and knelt beside her, gripping her shoulder under his warm, strong hand. And after a while she trailed off.
You’re really here? she thought. I’m not crazy?
Oh, you’re crazy alright, Michael replied in her head. Crazy as a carnie, actually, but no more than usual. I’m here, Nikki. Really here.
When her exhausted brain processed that, Nikki let out a sound that would have embarrassed her any other time and dug her hands into the mounded earth before the headstone. She clawed and slipped and tore at the rain-soaked ground as fast as she could, desperate to get to him.
It took all three of them to stop her, but in the end it was the voice in her head more than the hands pulling her back that made her stop. Michael's voice.
