Sullivan Saga 2: Sullivan's Wrath

by Michael K. Rose

  Peter walked past all these and made his way to the back of the library. He sat down in front of a screen; it was much easier to find what he was looking for on the computer rather than searching through those fragile and—in some cases—valuable volumes.

  The computers in the monastery library had access to the Stellar Assembly Database, that collection of files that contained nearly the entire accumulated knowledge of humanity, but Peter would need special permission to access it. The files he had free access to had been collected and approved of by the founders of the Cenobian community. Occasionally, Father Curtis would go through the most recent additions to the Stellar Assembly Database and add those files that he felt were acceptable and relevant. But Peter didn’t have any doubt that what he was looking for would be accessible.

  He typed the word “visions” into the search function—the computers in the library were not enabled with voice recognition so as to not disturb others who were engaged in study—and glanced over the results. Throughout the history of Christianity, visions had been common. The Bible itself was filled with such accounts.

  Peter read through discussions of Ezekiel’s visions, the apocalyptic visions of Daniel, Constantine’s vision of the Chi-Rho during the Battle of the Milvian Bridge. This was not what he was looking for.

  Peter put his hands back on the keyboard and typed in “visions of Christ.” Many of the early Catholic saints, he read, had reported visions of Jesus. In almost every case, Peter read that a vision of Christ was a sign that an individual was chosen by God to deliver a message to humanity. It was an indication that he or she was blessed.

  Peter smiled. Surely, with his erotic dreams, he couldn’t be such a person. The vision had to have been his imagination. Still, Peter bowed his head. “Dear Lord,” he whispered, “if my vision was real, please give me a sign so I might know it. And if so, please help me to understand what it is I must do.”

  7

  RICK SULLIVAN PRESSED on the accelerator. As he’d anticipated, the car behind him matched his speed. He expected the lights to start flashing any moment, but they didn’t.

  Sullivan slowed his vehicle. The road out to the industrial area outside of the city wasn’t busy, and as he slowed down past the speed limit, the car behind him did as well. If they weren’t following him, they’d have passed.

  Why didn’t they just flash their lights and pull him over? Sullivan sped up again. Of course. They didn’t have a reason to. Their vehicle’s cameras would record everything. No, they’d have to apprehend him on foot, where cameras couldn’t contradict their story.

  Luck was on their side. Outside of the city proper, surveillance cameras were a lot less prevalent. Of course, that was one of the reasons Sullivan had hidden his weapons stash in an unused warehouse in that area.

  Now, with Bureau agents tailing him, he couldn’t get to his warehouse. Then they’d definitely have something to arrest him for. He hated leaving without a weapon, but he supposed Faris was safe enough. He could always acquire one after he arrived.

  But now he had to find a way to shake the agents. If he began speeding or driving recklessly, they’d have him dead to rights.

  The area around the city gave way to rolling, lightly wooded hills. As the elevation increased, the hills became steeper and more jagged, the woods thicker.

  Sullivan kept driving out past the industrial area, into the hills. He took out his tablet and brought up a map. He used it to find a narrow, winding road through the foothills and pulled off onto it.

  As he’d hoped, the road turned to gravel, then dirt, and began twisting its way up the side of the mountain range. Sullivan increased the distance between him and his pursuers, accelerating to dangerous speeds as he disappeared around each curve before slowing back down as the other car came back into view.

  He managed to get two curves ahead of them, and as he rounded the next one, he slammed on the brakes, dove from the vehicle and jumped over the guard railing. He began skidding down the side of the hill, grabbing small trees and bushes to slow his descent. Above him, he heard a collision and the sound of shattering glass. The anti-collision technology in the agents’ vehicle hadn’t had time to react once it rounded the sharp curve and came into view of Sullivan’s stopped car.

  Sullivan hooked his arm around a tree and looked behind him, up the hill. The two agents were out of their car and looking at him over the guard rail. He slid the rest of the way to the road below and began running along it.

  He had gone less than a hundred meters when he heard a gun go off behind him. He didn’t think they’d actually be shooting at him. He took a gamble and guessed that they’d fired off a warning shot to try and get him to stop running. He kept going. They’d call in backup if he got too far ahead and gave them a reason to slow their pursuit, so he knew he’d have to turn and face them eventually, but he wanted to get himself into a better position.

  Sullivan glanced behind him. Both of the agents were now on the road and running after him. Sullivan rounded a curve and stopped, pressing himself against the cliff. Maybe they’d fall for the same trick twice. He could hear their footfalls approaching fast.

  Just as he expected them to come around the corner, he leapt out from concealment and rushed the man in the lead. He fell hard as Sullivan caught him in the chest with his shoulder. Not stopping to let them respond, Sullivan used his momentum to swing his arm around and clip the other agent on the side of the jaw with his fist.

  The agent staggered back but kept his footing. He reached for his gun, but Sullivan was on him again, knocking the gun down the side of the hill as it came out of its holster.

  Sullivan landed another punch on the agent’s jaw followed by a body blow. As the agent doubled over, Sullivan grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him toward the other agent, who was just getting up. He leapt on them again and, finding a pair of handcuffs on one of them, pulled the handcuffs free and shackled the two men together as they struggled to regain their footing. Sullivan lifted them up, took the gun from the first agent and pushed them against the side of the cliff.

  Williams bent over to catch his breath. “Richard Sullivan, you’re under arrest for assault and battery on two SABI agents.”

  Sullivan laughed. “You attacked me without cause.”

  “You abandoned a vehicle in the roadway. We gave chase.”

  “Fair enough. Take me in, then.”

  Agent Poole rubbed his jaw with his free hand. “Listen, Sullivan, you know why we’re here. You’re not above the law.”

  “I have until tomorrow afternoon before a warrant is issued. Why were you following me today?”

  “Just keeping tabs on you, Sullivan.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Williams moved away from the cliff, and Sullivan pushed him back. He pressed the barrel of the gun against the agent’s face and narrowed his eyes. “You think I won’t do it? You think I won’t kill you right now?”

  Williams clenched his jaw shook his head. “I don’t think that. We all know you’re a murderer, Sullivan.”

  Sullivan raised his arm and brought it sharply back down, pistol-whipping Williams on the forehead. “You’re god damn right I’m a murderer! Tell me why I shouldn’t kill both of you right now?”

  Poole held up his free hand, palm outward. “Listen, Sullivan. We’re just doing our job. We’re just following orders.”

  Sullivan laughed. “The typical justification of the soldier sent to do the politician’s dirty work. Nothing ever changes, does it?”

  Poole was about to answer, but Sullivan grabbed him by the arm and pressed his face against the side of the cliff. Sullivan took the other pair of handcuffs from Williams then roughly pushed the men toward a road sign. He looped the chain around the sign and secured the cuffs to the chain on the handcuffs around the agents’ wrists. He searched their pockets and took their tablets and earpieces.

  He smashed the tablets under his heel then looked up at the agents. “I’ve had enough of people
like you. A year ago, you’d be dead already. You’re just damned lucky I have something better to live for. This isn’t a busy road, but I’m sure someone will come this way before you die. And after tomorrow, you won’t have to worry about me again. All I want is to be left in peace. I don’t want to fight any more. I don’t want to kill any more.”

  Williams reached up with his free hand and wiped the blood from his forehead. “You’re a killer, Sullivan. No matter what you say, that will never change.”

  “You’re right, I am. But only if someone forces my hand.” He leveled his gaze at Williams. “Don’t force my hand.” He turned and began walking back up the road, toward the vehicles. Behind him, he could hear Williams making threats in a low voice. He ignored the agent and took out and inserted his earpiece. “Call Alexander, Kate.”

  Kate answered. “Rick? Did you get what you needed?”

  “No. I ran into some Bureau agents. You need to gather our things and head to the safe house.”

  “Are you all right, Rick?”

  “I’m fine. Just get to the safe house, and I’ll meet you there. We’ll need to have Dale meet us with the ship somewhere other than the spaceport. Can you have Frank deliver the message?”

  “Yes, I’ll ask him. How long will you be?”

  “I’m about an hour outside of the city, up in the mountains. I’ll call you in half an hour.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Move as fast as you can. And watch for a tail.”

  “I will. Goodbye, Rick.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Sullivan rounded a curve and spotted the vehicles. The damage appeared only superficial. He got into his car and started the engine. As he made his way back down the mountain, he waved at the agents handcuffed to the sign. Agent Williams acknowledged him, but not with a wave.

  8

  A LIGHT RAIN was beginning to fall as Allen stepped out onto the tarmac. Dale Hammond was standing next to the ship, talking to his pilot. Allen had a brief moment of panic as he noticed Hammond’s expression. Was something wrong? Had Hammond spoken to Kate or Rick?

  Allen relaxed when Hammond looked up, smiled at him and waved him over. “Hi, Frank,” he said. “This is Paul Evans, your pilot. Paul, Frank Allen.”

  The men shook hands.

  “Standard freighter?” asked Allen.

  Hammond nodded. “But I was able to find a newer one for you, so it’ll be a bit faster than one of the older ships.”

  “Good. Thank you.” Allen glanced at Evans. “Dale, can I have a private word with you?”

  Evans, hearing the comment, excused himself.

  Allen set his bag on the ground. “Kate and Rick are safe. However, Rick had a run-in with some Bureau agents. They’ve gone to a safe house that they’d prepared months ago, and it doesn’t appear the Bureau knows where they are.”

  “Good.”

  “Of course, this means that they can’t come to the spaceport.” Allen took a scrap of paper from his pocket. “You’re going to take off at your scheduled time but make a slight detour.” He handed the paper to Hammond. “Here are the coordinates where you should meet them. By the time anyone realizes you’re off course, you’ll have picked them up and, hopefully, be making the jump to hyperspace. Kate says that you should be safe when you get back. She called in a couple more favors that were still owed her father.”

  Hammond nodded. “I’ll be sure to thank her for that.”

  Allen shifted his weight. “Look, Dale, we’ve been through quite a bit together. I wouldn’t have made it out of that ship on Edaline if you hadn’t been such a damned good pilot. I just want to thank you for that.”

  Hammond laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t have survived on the ground if it hadn’t been for you. We’re even in my book.”

  Allen nodded. “We haven’t spoken much the past few months. I’m sorry for that. I’ve had quite a bit on my mind.”

  “I understand. After the war, you finally had time to think… to mourn.”

  Allen smiled. “Thank you for understanding. Listen, the reason I’m going to Edaline….” An image of Liz flashed into his mind. He paused. “I guess the reason doesn’t matter. Let me just say I might not be coming back.”

  Hammond shook his head. “Of course you will, Frank. Next to Rick, you’re the toughest guy I know.”

  Allen lowered his eyes. “No. I misspoke. Whatever happens, I won’t be coming back. I have this one last thing to take care of for Rick, then I’ll be moving on.”

  “Where will you go? Back to Earth?”

  “Maybe,” Allen lied. “But this is goodbye, Dale. I won’t forget you.”

  Hammond held out his hand and Allen shook it. “I won’t forget you, either. Thank you for everything, Frank. Good luck.”

  “Good luck to you, too. When you see Kate and Rick later, tell them I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “They’ll know. Goodbye, Dale.”

  Allen picked up his bag and, without turning back, stepped onto the freighter and hit the button on the panel beside him, closing the hatch.

  DALE HAMMOND SAW Kate and Sullivan jump out of the car and begin unloading their luggage. He ran toward them and took Kate’s bag. “All set?”

  Sullivan nodded. “Has Frank arrived yet?”

  Hammond stopped walking. “Frank said he’d be going to Faris with you?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I put him on a ship for Edaline three hours ago. After he gave me these coordinates to pick you up at.”

  Sullivan clenched his jaw. “He told us he’d deliver the coordinates to you but wouldn’t be coming back to the safe house in case he was followed. He said he’d meet us here.”

  “All I know,” Hammond said, “is that the day before yesterday he had me schedule a flight for Edaline. Said you were sending him there. And when I last saw him, he said to tell you that he was sorry.”

  Sullivan began walking again. “Damn it! Hurry up! Get this ship off the ground as soon as you can, Dale!”

  Hammond nodded and ran ahead of them.

  “What’s going on, Rick?” asked Kate.

  “I don’t know, but Frank lied to us for some reason.”

  “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”

  “I have to, Kate. He’s my best friend. I’ve known something was wrong for months, and I should have done more. I want you to stay here.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m coming with you.”

  “Kate, please. The situation on Edaline isn’t entirely stable. There are groups of loyalists still trying to overthrow the new government.”

  Kate looked up at Sullivan. “I’m coming, Rick.”

  Sullivan shook his head. From the airlock of the ship, Hammond began waving at them. “We should go now, Rick!”

  Sullivan sighed. “All right.” He grabbed Kate by the arm and ran toward the ship. He pushed her through the airlock, tossed his bag onto the floor and closed the hatch behind him. “We’re on, Dale, get this ship off the ground!”

  He heard the freighter begin to power up as he made his way to the cockpit. Kate was settling into the chair behind Hammond, watching as he readied the ship for liftoff. Sullivan took the seat beside Hammond.

  “We’re not going to Faris, are we?” Hammond asked.

  “No, we’re not.”

  Hammond nodded. “Making an unscheduled landing and falsifying a flight plan? It’ll mean a big fine when I get back.”

  Kate leaned forward. “I’ll take care of it, Dale. Take us to Edaline.”

  SULLIVAN RAPPED HIS fingers on the table. He, Kate and Hammond were sitting in the ship’s lounge. The remnants of their meal lay scattered across the table. “I should have realized it sooner.”

  Kate looked over at him. “What?”

  “That Frank was up to something.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “He’s the detective, not me. But I have a feeling it has something to do with the hyperspace entities.�
�� Sullivan glanced around him, suddenly aware that they could be watching, listening. He lowered his voice. “After Liz died and he encountered the entity that took her form, something in him changed. And I think the entity may have been visiting him these past few months.”

  “Visiting him? On Silvanus?”

  “Yes. Based on what we know about the entities—at least, based on what they’ve told us about themselves—they are able to cross over into our universe. It seems they don’t have as much power when they do, but they can still interact with us. I heard Frank talking to himself a few times. I asked him, but he denied it.”

  Hammond leaned forward. “Do you have any proof of this?”

  “No. I never saw anything myself. But it all lines up.”

  “What do they want with him?” asked Kate. “Why is he going to Edaline?”

  “I can think of only one reason. Dale, how badly damaged was the ship that you crashed during the war?”

  “I have no idea. Most of the side of the cargo bay was gone and at least one engine.”

  “But what about the hyperspace components? Were they damaged?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t have much time to study the display before Frank and I bailed out of there.”

  Sullivan nodded. “If the hyperspace components weren’t damaged, would it be possible to take them out and put them in another ship?”

  “Actually,” said Hammond, “it’s easier than you think. The hyper-hyperspace technology was designed to be put into any ship with hyperspace capability. All of Mr. Alexander’s hyper-hyperspace ships were standard freighters that had been converted.”

  “All right. Now I know this has something to do with the entities. I think Allen wants to get back into hyper-hyperspace. Edaline’s new government must have salvaged the crashed ship, and the entities know about it. They want Allen for some reason. They’ve been trying to manipulate him from the beginning. Why else would one of them take Liz’s form?”