Through the Singularity

by L. Frank Wadsworth

  Zaleria looks at her, wondering how much she should share. “There are many. One, it suggests someone, probably Beltare, had a similar thought about the potential for a galan having a hand in the affair from the very beginning. Two, the fact we have provisions for such things,” and Zaleria smiles at her mother, “and that you are aware of them, suggests such betrayals have occurred before. Perhaps with regularity.” She grows quiet.

  Traemuña is increasingly amazed at how much this experience, as bitter as it has been for Zaleria, has led to so much personal growth. “Did you believe that all of the security we've built into our social structure was to defend ourselves from outside attack? All of these were created in the very beginning, so we wouldn't destroy ourselves. Look at the humans, how they treat each other. That was us.” Zaleria winces a bit at the comparison. Traemuña lowers her voice, suddenly feeling very weary. “Don't believe for a moment that the potential for evil has left us…” She sighs. “It hasn't. You live long enough, you will see it. Beltare has seen it, and as I'm sure you've guessed, I've seen far more than my fair share. Oh, and you forgot one major implication. Beltare has demonstrated in a significant way that she trusts you.”

  Traemuña walks over, embraces her daughter, and kisses her forehead. “You continue to make me proud to be your mother. I need to think about this new information, and I am very tired, so I will turn in for the night. You have done very well—I feel you are making real progress.”

  Zaleria watches her mother as she heads back to her house. She loves her and will miss her when she crosses over. It is clear to her that she will do so, once this matter is resolved. Whatever holds her to this place must be wrapped up in this somehow. Perhaps, she needs to start digging into her background some more. Perhaps, it is someone she once knew…someone who was close to her. All her intuition tells her Traemuña is somehow the key to all of this, but she is either unwilling, or perhaps unable, to just reveal that information. Zaleria will have to dig it out.

  ∞∞∞

  Cheryn decides to hit one of the local restaurants before booking a new flight. She's decided to head back to Denver but take some time off after she gets there, maybe head up into the mountains, find a bed and breakfast, and just lose herself for a while. But that doesn't mean she can't enjoy some good seafood. Perhaps salmon.

  The receptionist recommends a place just a few blocks from the hotel, so she decides to walk there. She has to go two blocks down, and then cross over two. After she turns the corner, she notices someone following her. When did he show up? She tries to think back. She also sees someone coming from the other direction eyeing her with more than just casual interest. Suddenly her instincts kick in; she's being set up! She tries to remain calm and look for an escape route. There is a book store to the right she might be able to duck into. She picks up her pace, and then breaks into a run when the guy coming from the opposite direction tries to angle in front of her. She rushes into the bookstore and starts looking for a back door. The clerk starts with surprise as she runs in, but then quickly points down a hallway when he sees the other two men show up. She nods and bolts down the hallway, where she finds an emergency door. She hits the door, which sets off the alarm, and runs out into an ally. Dammit, she wishes she was in better shape, and that her leg didn't still hurt so much.

  She hasn't really helped herself. She finds she is now in a quiet ally, with no people in it. The two men run out of the store, much closer than she would like. They have given up any pretense of innocence at this point. She curses the local law that wouldn't recognize her Colorado concealed carry permit. She'll have to fight it out. She hopes they're brutes, and not skilled fighters. She isn't as good as she used to be. She decides it’s best to wait for them in the middle of the ally so that she isn't hemmed in.

  The man who was trailing her moves to her right, while the one who was coming from the other direction crosses to her left. The first guy looks at her, appraising. That's not good, he looks very professional. “Hi Cheryn, it’s been a long time, yet we don't hear from you anymore. What's up with that?”

  Her blood runs cold. They're from Sklávoi Ashtoreth. She’s dead. “I don't know. Being blown up in the middle of an operation changes a person. I kind of lost my passion for the organizational goals after that,” she says, as she turns to keep both of them in sight. “I appreciate all they did for my recovery by the way. I'm not the only one who has kept their distance.”

  “Why are you here, working for the enemy?” asks the second one. “You selling us out to the Andersson Foundation? You know who he was. An impediment. Now, he is nothing.”

  “I don't think that way anymore. You could say I got an education in what the world is really like, what Sklávoi Ashtoreth is really like. Andersson was a good man. Can't say the same for SA.”

  The first man lunges at her. She blocks his attack and spins around him to get both attackers on the same side of her. The second man now has to move around the first to try and get to her. She attempts a left-footed snap kick at his groin, but he blocks it low, shifts his left foot back, and tries a round house at her head. She anticipated the move and ducks under it, again getting both of her attackers on the same side of her. They're being sloppy.

  The first guy smiles at her. “Well, you've been keeping in practice. You used to be good. But you've lost a step or two.” He fakes an attack to her right, just as the other guy comes at her from the left. She avoids the feint and blocks the one-two combo from the second attacker; however, the first guy snap kicks the back of her bad knee, dropping her down onto her bad leg. She rolls away from the both of them but is too slow to get back up. The second guy kicks her in the solar plexus before she can rise and puts her down hard. She realizes she's done for. The first guy saunters over, smiling, and is about to say something, when, schoop, he is illuminated by a beam of light, which quickly winks out, only to re-emerge, schoop, a fraction of a second later square in the chest of the second guy. They both fall to the ground without a sound.

  Cheryn lifts her head to look around and try and figure out what just happened. She can barely breathe and is concentrating on trying to move air into and out of her lungs, so she doesn't pass out. She sees a figure detach itself from the shadows by the back door of the book store. It looks like…Nils?!

  Nils walks over, concern on his face. “Are you okay? Just nod if you can move.”

  She shakes her head. She can't even breathe to ask the questions bubbling up inside her. She looks at her attackers, trying to figure out what happened to them. He follows her gaze.

  “They'll be okay, although I may have to give each of them a few bruises before the cops show up.” He walks over and punches each of them a few times and hits each especially hard on their temples. “Honestly, I don't feel good about having to do that, but it'll provide a plausible story about how they were beaten up by their intended victim. They won't remember the last ten to fifteen minutes in any event. This pistol interferes with short-term memory retention. We should go before the police get here.”

  He holds out a hand, and she takes it after only a moment’s thought. He is surprisingly strong and easily supports her weight, so she can hobble off on her good leg. Breathing is getting easier, now that she is upright. “How, what…who are you?”

  “It's me, Nils. I can explain later. Right now, we need to get out of here. I have a car just around the corner.” They manage to get to the car and drive off before the police can arrive.

  Nils looks at her a bit exasperated. “When seconds count, the police are still minutes away. Are you okay?”

  “No, I'm not 'okay!' I thought I was getting my life back together, and now I feel like I'm being toyed with! You've been playing with me the whole time, haven't you? Who the hell are you!?”

  “I am Nils Hagen. I work at the Andersson Foundation.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “I have never lied to you. That doesn't mean I haven't withheld things from you, just as you have withheld a great deal
about your past.” She looks away. “Do you need a doctor to look at your leg?”

  She doesn't look at him. “Probably, but not here. I want to be away from this town.”

  “I can understand that, and I know a place where you can lie low for a while, if that will make you feel better.”

  “What do you want from me? Why do you keep helping me? What is your angle?!” She is growing angry. He is not surprised.

  “I want you to live a full and meaningful life, to have an opportunity to atone for your past, so the next time you stand before the Light, you are not ashamed to be in its presence. I also want mankind to reach its full potential. That can't happen, because an organization is doing all it can to derail progress. They need to be stopped.”

  Cheryn's eyes go wide. “What are you?”

  “I'm just a man, but one who knows a few things.”

  “I don't believe you.”

  “I know, but I have never lied to you. Are you willing to travel with me to a place I know? To be safe? We can talk more there. I will not harm you whether you go or stay.”

  She looks at him for a long moment. “I'm not in much of a position to fight you, but I believe you don't mean to hurt me. I don't trust you.”

  Nils looks at her. “You were an assassin for Sklávoi Ashtoreth. You were in that restaurant in Park City, Utah, to kill the woman dining with Rolle Andersson. You failed, so they sent in a bomber to kill them both. Yet, I am putting a great deal of trust in you, now, revealing what I know.”

  Cheryn's mouth opens and closes in rapid succession. She closes her eyes, and tears leak out. “There is no way anyone could know all that. Who the hell are you, and why are you messing with my head?!!”

  “I'm Nils Hagen.”

  “Don't give me that bullshit.”

  “I've never lied to you.”

  “Then who the hell were you before you were Nils Hagen?!!”

  “That…is a good question. And one I'm not ready to answer. Do you know why you were to kill the woman in the restaurant?”

  “I didn't ask questions; I did what I was told.” She looks away again, but Nils recognizes that she hasn't once denied what he has said. Good.

  “Because she wasn't human. She didn't die in the blast, but she was destroyed in the plane crash that took Rolle Andersson's life. She was an alien, and because of that, a unique threat to Sklávoi Ashtoreth. I used her weapon to stun your assailants tonight, because deep down inside, they're no different than you were. Than I was, once. I can't condemn them to what waits beyond, even if it risks exposing things I'd rather remain hidden. The odds are long that it'll make any difference in their lives, but at least they have a chance to change their path. This alien woman taught me that. She visited you while you were in a coma. Do you recall?”

  She looks at him, a memory playing across her face. “I was in darkness, and I heard a voice. I thought it was an angel. She told me I had to face what I'd done. I didn't want to, but she made me look at myself. It was terrible…”

  “She helped your body heal. The doctors called it a miracle; it was advanced science. You'd tried to kill her, and she saved your life. She once saved mine, too.”

  Cheryn starts crying silently, the tears flowing freely. “I have never told anyone—how could I? I was a murderer. I was…evil. I don't want to be that way anymore, but I did things. I can't just forget them.”

  “You never will.” Nils says quietly. “I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I won't lie to you. Will you come with me?”

  She nods her head. “I still don't trust you. I don't know if I can trust anyone. But I'll go with you.”

  ∞∞∞

  Cheryn looks around the room. They traveled the rest of the day and all night before stopping at a roadside motel just outside Ogden, Utah. He paid for two rooms under assumed names, using well-forged documents and credit cards. Whoever Nils really is, he is very good, and well prepared. Her knee hurts like hell, and he told her they would get it looked at once they get some sleep. He seems sincere and left her to herself in her room.

  Trust. He is showing her she has the freedom to stay or go. She knows it is deliberate and calculated, but is it real? Part of her wants to leave, if nothing else than to test her bounds. But part of her wants to know what the hell this is all about. She never asked questions in her previous life and look where that got her. He wants to share at least some of what he knows. But she is sure that will, in large part, be an effort to sell her something—probably another cause—or to gain information from her. That must be it. He wants whatever she can tell him about SA.

  She is in pain, and very tired. She tried to sleep in the car as much as possible, but the pain made that nearly futile. Still she tried, if for no other reason than to avoid further conversation, but Nils didn't seem ready to press her anymore at the moment. She really wasn't in any condition to strike out on her own, a fact she is sure Nils is aware of—perhaps counting on her injury to keep her close while he pretends to be benevolent. God, this is a messed-up situation.

  Go or stay? She can't decide, but the dilemma becomes irrelevant as she succumbs to exhaustion and falls asleep on the bed, weighing her options.

  She jerks awake when she hears a soft knock at her door. She looks around the room, a bit groggily, and tries to figure out what time it is. There is daylight leaking around the curtains, so not too much time could have elapsed. She finally finds the clock; it reads 3:30 PM. Nils knocks again, a little harder this time but not insistent. “Just a moment,” she says. She sits up and swings her legs off the side of the bed. She's still in the same clothes she was wearing yesterday evening when she was attacked. Her knee is pretty swollen and starting to show massive signs of bruising. Great. She tests it before getting up. It holds a little weight but is in bad shape. God it hurts.

  She hobbles over to the door and opens it with the bar still in place. She's not sure why. Nils is standing there, patiently.

  “How is your knee?”

  “Bad. It’s swollen and hurts like hell. I can barely put any weight on it.” He frowns, apparently calculating what he should do. “I'm afraid it needs to be examined.” Cheryn continues. “It wasn't in good shape to begin with, but I can't continue with it like this. If nothing else, I'll need better pain medicine. The ibuprofen isn't touching it. I'm sorry…,” she trails off.

  Nils looks surprised at that, “You've nothing to be sorry for, at least as far as your leg is concerned. I'm just trying to think of the best way to get it looked at without drawing additional attention to your whereabouts. If you use your foundation health benefits—and the best hospital close by is one I'm afraid you are already too familiar with—you will leave an electronic trail to your location. I'm not sure that is a good idea. Alternatively, I know someone who can keep you on your feet for a while, but he isn't as good. Still, that might buy us a little time to arrange something better, and much more discrete.” He raises an eyebrow, seeking her response.

  He is standing there as if arranging false identities and black-market medical care are the most natural things in the world for two nearly total strangers to be discussing across a barred door at a “no-tell-motel” in the wilds of Utah. And she suspects that for him, this is routine; a thought that more than anything that has happened recently chills her to the bone. She should have run. It is now too late; she's trapped, and they both know it.

  Nils sighs heavily. “Yeah, I know, you're feeling pretty vulnerable now. For what it’s worth, that isn't my intent. You haven't had a chance to bathe, nor have you had anything to eat for the better part of a day. How about I give you a chance to get cleaned up while I see about getting some food? I'll be back at 1700, and if you're still here, we'll talk about next steps. What is your comfort food of choice, just in case?”

  She can't help herself but smile a bit at him. How can he be so disarming while being scary as hell at the same time? “Yeah, you're right. I'm not happy about this one bit, and we both know my odds of walking out of here
and dodging SA for any length of time are poor, especially in my current state. I don't know if I'll be here when you get back,” she says with more force than she intended, “But if I am, you better have some spicy fried chicken and red beans and rice.” With that, she shuts the door in his face and hears him walk off.

  She hobbles into the bathroom to freshen up. She feels pretty grimy and welcomes the opportunity to bathe. She notices she is in a handicapped room, so getting into/out of the tub will be a little easier, and safer. She wonders if this was planned or a coincidence. No, knowing Nils, this was probably planned. Damn, he is good. Cheryn realizes soon enough she’s going to have to take a bath, so she strips down and starts filling the tub with water as hot as she can stand. Looking over, she notices how tattered her clothes are and regrets how few supplies she has. She uses the cheap shampoo and soap and does the best she can, though these places never seem to care that African-Americans have different grooming needs. She regards the soap bar in her hand and thinks it's probably not particularly good for white people either, but right now she is so dirty, it'll be better than nothing. As much as she would like to, she doesn't spend much time soaking. There is too much on her mind. As she dries off, she again starts thinking. Stay or go?

  Her knee hurts so bad she can barely stand on it and must sit on the toilet to dry off. She won't be walking out of here. She could call a cab or get a rental car and take off. But where would she go? She no longer has any friends, if she could even call her former associates that in any case. Since coming out of her coma, none of her former colleagues ever came to visit. She doubts she could trust any of them. She doesn't have any family that she's aware of; she was pretty much raised in a commune and never could learn anything about her true parents. It wasn't clear they even lived there. She's always assumed they just dumped her and moved on, probably going their separate ways.

  She has no one. Up until now that has never been a problem, but for the first time in her life, she feels very alone. She doesn't see any way forward, except one. And it scares the hell out of her.