by R S Penney
He sensed the robot approaching on his right, moving across the room on legs that made soft whirring noises and carrying a cup of tea in its right hand. “Thank you,” Jon said, accepting the cup when it was offered.
Beyond the edge of his balcony, two tall buildings stood on the other side of the street, each with sunlight glinting off its windows and lush trees rising from its rooftop. It was a strange quirk, he knew, but whenever he applied for a new apartment, he went out of his way to select one on the top floor of a tall building. He liked a view.
Such accommodations weren't always available; sometimes he had to settle for a place on the sixth or seventh floor, but most cities had more homes than people to live in them and had to rely on robots to maintain the upkeep. Sometimes vacant houses were actually deconstructed so that the city wouldn't have to expend so much energy looking after them. It really made no difference. New houses could be constructed in a matter of days if they were needed.
This way of life was built upon the abundance that the Leyrian people had created for themselves. Why would anyone want to destroy that?
He lifted the cup to his lips and slurped as he took a sip. “Fools,” he said, spinning on his heel and turning his back on the window. “No matter how enlightened we become, there will always be those who believe that suffering is the only way to become strong.”
He set his cup down on the coffee table and went to his bedroom.
It was a simple room with white walls where sunlight through a large window fell on a bed where the blue blankets were pulled right up to the pillows. He retrieved his tablet from the dresser and powered it on to begin reviewing his notes. So far, no one had been able to locate the young man who planted the first bomb at Vertical Farm 17.
Jon really should have forced himself to eat something; he wasn't hungry, but he would have to meet with his staff in two hours, and he suspected that coming up against more dead ends would be stressful, to say the least. Incorporating Melissa Carlson into this investigation would be easy – trained Keepers often allowed cadets to shadow them – but what should he do about the girl's father? Or that disgraced LIS agent that Larani had foisted on him? How Jena had managed such a hodgepodge team was simply beyond him.
Jon stepped into the living room again and froze.
The front door was open just a crack.
Touching his chin with three fingers, Jon squinted. “Service robot active,” he called out, striding across the room. “Did I leave the front door open?”
When the robot didn't respond, he felt a chill and looked up to find it slumped over in front of the kitchen sink, its eyes dark. Someone had deactivated it, and it wasn't Jon. He wasn't alone in this apartment.
He turned to face the couch on the wall opposite the kitchen and found that the door to his bathroom was somehow moving of its own accord. There was nothing but darkness in the other room, but something was moving in there.
His eyes saw nothing but a faint ripple in the air, like waves of heat rising up from black pavement, but his mind sensed something through contact with his symbiont. The silhouette of a tall man in a loose-fitting jacket was coming toward him with a stun-baton in one hand.
The man swung for Jon's temple.
Jon ducked, allowing the invisible weapon to pass over his head. He threw a punch into the phantom's stomach, then rose to back-hand his opponent across the face. A loud crunch told him that his enemy was solid enough.
Jon leaped, somersaulting through the air.
In an instant, he was landing behind the other man, spinning around to grab the guy by his invisible collar. His mind sensed another intruder coming in through the open front door, and this one was also invisible. If you looked right at him, you would see nothing but a shimmer in the air, and only if he moved too quickly.
Jon whirled around, shoving one invisible man toward the other. The first guy went stumbling across the hardwood floor and collided with his companion. Perhaps the fact that neither one had tried to step aside meant they couldn't see each other.
Baring his teeth in a snarl, Jon winced and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Neat trick,” he said. “I've never seen a functioning tactical cloak, but it's useless against a Justice Keeper.”
Both men were lying on the floor, but the first one had rolled off the second, and now they were stretched out on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. The one on the left was still clutching his stun-baton, and he got up to charge at Jon, swinging like a maniac with a club.
Jon leaned back, the crackling tip of an invisible baton passing within inches of his nose. He snap-kicked and drove his foot into an invisible stomach. The silhouette went stumbling backward, bumping into its companion.
This second man came forward with a pistol in his hand, a pistol that he lifted for a shot at point-blank range.
Falling over backwards, Jon caught himself by slapping both hands down on the floor and brought one foot up to strike the underside of an invisible wrist. The gun went tumbling from the man's hand, rippling back into visibility before it hit the wall and fell to the floor.
Jon snapped himself upright.
A ghostly figure stood before him, staring into its own empty hand before it looked up to fix an eyeless gaze upon him. The man drew a small knife from a holster on his belt and ran forward with a growl.
Jon sidestepped.
He let the spectre run past on his left, then flung his elbow into the invisible man's back. This sent the guy stumbling into the kitchen where he crashed into the island and wheezed on impact.
The first man had recovered and now stood hunched over with his stun-baton in hand. He raised the weapon above his head and suddenly charged forward as if he meant to bludgeon Jon to death.
Jon jumped.
He turned belly-up in mid-air, kicking out to slam both feet into an invisible face. This knocked the man to the floor and caused him to lose his grip on the baton. It became visible as it tumbled end over end toward the ceiling.
Back-flipping through the air, Jon landed on the floor and reached up with one hand to catch the baton's grip as it fell. He spun and flung the weapon point-first at the man in the kitchen.
The tip of the baton hit the invisible man as he turned around, and sparks flashed over his body. He seemed to flicker, appearing and disappearing so quickly it was almost disorienting, and then his cloaking device shorted out, revealing a tall man with fair skin and a blonde goatee who dropped to the floor and passed out.
“Now,” Jon said to the other one. “What to do with you.”
Life aboard a starship was cramped.
Her office was just one example. Though it was large enough to hold a horseshoe-shaped desk between its four gray walls, the room had no windows. It felt very much like being trapped inside a coffin, and she wanted to look out at the stars. Of course, that had a lot to do with ship's design. You didn't put key areas near the hull where a stray particle beam might expose them to vacuum.
Telixa sat with booted feet propped up on the desk, a tablet held up in front of her face. “More hand-wringing,” she muttered, reading through the latest deliberations of the Parliament. “You've had all the information for months now. Either use it or admit your own ineptitude.”
She tossed the tablet onto the desk.
Reclining in her chair with hands folded behind her head, Telixa frowned as she stared up at the ceiling. “Idiots, the lot of them,” she added. “Trust a politician to put off making a decision as long as possible.”
The president was pushing for an immediate reconnaissance mission through the SuperGate to properly assess what the Leyrians were planning. There was really no way to know short of sending a ship through and seeing for themselves. Probes were only so useful, in the end; there wasn't much a probe could do if a hostile ship tried to destroy it. But Parliament was, as usual, determined to hem and haw until the Leyrians showed up on their doorstep with bombs armed.
The door chime rang.
“Enter
!”
Her door slid open to reveal Lieutenant Janis looking prim and proper in his fine gray uniform. The young man wore a grim expression as he offered a curt nod. “We've just received orders from Fleet Admiral Loth.”
Closing her eyes, Telixa tilted her head back. “Let me guess,” she said, spinning in her chair and rising quickly. “Parliament has denied the president war powers and the fleet is to maintain a watch on the Class-2 Gates indefinitely.”
The young man bowed his head and cleared his throat as if trying to hold down the urge to cough. “Just the opposite, ma'am,” he said. “We've been authorized to send three ships through the Gate on a scouting mission.”
“Will wonders never cease.”
Telixa strode around the desk and stood before her subordinate, and despite the fact that the top of her head was barely in line with his chest, Janis still took a step backward. A sign that her reputation was still well known among the crew, and a very good thing in her estimation. When you were short, you had to learn to act tall. “Let's go,” she said. “I believe we have work to do.”
Outside her office, a white-walled corridor encircled the bridge with cleaning bots polishing the floor. It was a little too bright for her taste – she had sensitive eyes – but the lights on the ship were designed to simulate real sunlight, and it was just past noon.
The Bridge doors opened, allowing her to see men and women at the stations and the Captain's Chair – her chair – sitting empty. There were soft beeps and clicks from the various computer consoles.
At the front of the room, the large screen displayed an enormous diamond-shaped SlipGate silhouetted against the backdrop of a blue star. It hung there, beckoning her to come through.
Clasping hands together behind her back, Telixa turned on her heel and approached the screen with her head down. “Status report,” she ordered. “Has there been any activity from the Gate?”
“No, Ma'am.”
Telixa squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath. “Have the Alethi and the Elendel form up on our flank,” she said. “Interface with the Gate's systems and prepare for transit. We're going through.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
It took about five minutes for the other ships to get into position and for her people to program the Gate accordingly. Telixa couldn't help but note a small pang of anxiety in her stomach. True, they'd sent probes through this thing, but she didn't trust alien tech one bit. It wouldn't surprise her if her atoms were scattered across a thousand solar systems.
Telixa sat in her chair, fingers gripping the armrests, and leaned forward to stare at the screen. “Activate the Gate,” she ordered. “Let's see what life is like on the other side of the galaxy.”
On the screen, she watched as a bubble surrounded her ship and the other two as well, a bubble large enough to encompass an entire city. It made her shiver just to think about it. The sheer power these Overseers displayed.
They were pulled forward, through a dark tunnel where stars seemed to wheel by on either side, above and below. Hundreds of little flecks of light. Should she have felt something? For all her body could tell, the ship might have been stationary.
Suddenly, they jerked to a halt.
The bubble surrounding all three ships vanished, allowing her to see yet another diamond-shaped SuperGate floating in front of a distant white star, “Status report!” she growled. “Where are we?”
“We can confirm a successful journey,” Lieutenant Janis said.
The image on the screen changed, displaying a map of the galaxy with a red line drawn from their point of origin in the upper right all the way across the Galactic Core to a system on the lower left.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Telixa said. “I welcome you to Leyrian space.”
Chapter 16
A hush fell over the Student Centre cafeteria as college kids who had taken refuge under tables poked their heads out to see what made the shooting stop. In that moment of calm, a young man's quiet sobbing echoed through the room.
Jack backed away until his body hit the brick wall, then hunched over with a hand pressed to his chest. “It's a trick,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Whoever you are, you're not Jena.”
Spreading her arms wide, Jena bowed to him like an actor on a stage. “A genuinely magnificent performance, wouldn't you agree?” Her words were delivered in that strange accent, but it was Jena's voice. How had he missed it?
Jack stared at her with an open mouth, blinking slowly. He shook his head. “I don't believe it,” he said. “The Jena I knew would never hurt her friends like this. Who are you really?”
She drew herself up to stand before him with one hand on her hip, then threw her head back and laughed. “I tried to teach you how to play the game, Jack,” she said. “Did it never occur to you that you were learning from a master?”
He lunged at her.
Jena leaped, turning belly-up in midair and bringing one foot up to hit the underside of his chin. Pain nearly drowned out all awareness, but he saw her backflip and drop to the ground before him.
Jena tried to kick his stomach.
Jack brought both hands down to strike her foot and push it away before she made contact. That threw her off balance, but she recovered quickly. She charged at him, drew back her arm and punched.
Jack ducked, allowing her fist to pass right over him and hit the wall with enough force to crack the bricks. He slipped past her on the left and then flung his elbow into the soft spot between her shoulder-blades.
That sent her face-first into the wall.
Whirling around to face her, Jack raised his fists into a boxer's stance and backed away. “You died in that Overseer base,” he growled. “Our science teams investigated the wreckage. We found your remains!”
She turned slowly, looking over her shoulder with a predatory smile. “Did I not tell you that the Inzari are gods?” she snapped. “Did you think I was making it up? Clinging to the false hope offered by so many of your false religions?”
Rage tightened his chest until it felt like he couldn't breathe. He had trusted Jena, listened to her, and all the while, this woman – this monster – had been playing him! He should have seen it; Jack Hunter didn't trust anyone. Why would he let his guard down simply because someone came along with just the right anti-establishment buzzwords to win his confidence?
He thought of Anna, of Harry, of Melissa. Of all the people Jena had screwed over in her manipulations! Damn it! Slade had figured out the locations of the first and third ciphers; was Jena the one who betrayed them? Had she led them all into a meat grinder back in New York?
Was Raynar dead because of her?
The fury bubbled up, and Jack charged at her again.
Two hands squeezing her throat.
The only thing that Melissa saw was Brinton's sweaty face contorting against the backdrop of a clear blue sky. And her vision was starting to fuzz anyway. She had to get him off her! Now!
Grabbing each of his wrists with her hands, she tried to pull free of his grip, but the man was insanely strong. He just kept pushing. She couldn't breathe! God help her, there had to be something she could…
She slapped her open palm against his forehead.
Power surged through her body as she twisted gravity around him, and just like that, Brinton was yanked upward as if caught by some invisible fishhook. He flailed about as Bent Gravity propelled him above the rooftops of all the nearby buildings, and then the Bending she had crafted fizzled out, and he began to fall.
He screamed, legs kicking, hands grasping for something – anything – to hold onto, as he plummeted a good hundred feet back to the concrete. When he hit, he actually bounced and then flopped over on his side. The man was still alive. She could tell because he was still wheezing.
Melissa sat up.
Wincing as tears ran over her cheeks, she touched her fingers to her forehead. “For fuck's sake!” she spat, ignoring her usual dislike of profanity. “I was trying to help you! What
is wrong with you?”
When she pulled her hand away, there was blood on one of her fingers. The gash on her forehead…Now, she would have to check in at a medical centre.
She stood up.
Brinton was stretched out on his side, sobbing and clutching a leg that was almost certainly broken. The man just shook and spasmed as breath exploded from him. What did these Overseers do to people to make them so insane?
The doors to the Student Centre slid apart and four college-aged kids came running out, two of whom were sobbing as hard as Brinton. Isara…If she started letting loose with that pistol before Jack could contain her…
Melissa had work to do.
Brinton wasn't going anywhere, which meant she had to focus on the greater threat. Hopefully, there wasn't too much internal bleeding – she didn't want him to bleed to death before she had a chance to question him – but right now, protecting these kids was her first priority.
She ran into the Student Centre and found the wide hallway just inside the doors completely empty. There was silence from the cafeteria at the end of that hallway. Not a good sign.
She ran.
When she burst through the doors to the cafeteria, she slid to a stop, and her blood turned to ice. To her left, in the narrow space between the brick wall and the first set of tables, a woman in black stood with her back turned and her head exposed. But Melissa recognized that haircut.
Further away, Jack stood with his fists up, his face as red as a ripe tomato. “Kid!” he growled. “Get the hell out of here!”
“No,” Isara said. “She wants to stay.”
The woman turned smoothly, and Melissa's heart sank when her fears were confirmed. Jena Morane wore a cruel smile as she chuckled softly. At the sight of her former host's face, Ilia became frantic. The Nassai's emotions were so strong that they almost overpowered Melissa. “Hello, dear,” Jena said. “It's been a while. How's my little friend been treating you? Well, I hope.”
Melissa immediately assumed a fighting stance of her own, backing away from the other woman. “Two against one!” she called out to Jack. “Even Jena would have a hard time against both of us!”
