He hadn’t moved from that corner. As though he were trying to keep as much distance between them as the room would allow. Did he do that for his own comfort or for hers?
“I expected you were being held prisoner, Rivers. Imagined that when I got word of you, it would be as a bargaining chip,” Olivia said.
“I’m neither,” Rivers said.
“So, what are you then?”
“Hopefully, someone you still trust,” he said.
A moment passed.
“Are you alone?” Olivia asked.
“Yes,” Rivers said. “We agreed it would be best if I approach you first.”
Olivia’s brow went up. “You agreed? With who, the alien . . . or Mr. Tibbs.”
“Jonathan,” Rivers said.
“He sends you here expecting I will just let you return to him?”
“He knows I’ll return,” Rivers said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Who do you answer to now, Rivers? Me or him?”
“Doesn’t have to be either,” Rivers said. “If an understanding can be reached. But if you decide not to come then this will likely be the last time we see each other. I’d prefer that not be the way things go.”
“Do I really have a choice? If I refuse, you won’t attempt to take me by force?”
“No, ma’am, I would never agree to that,” he said. “It’s your choice.”
She nodded and sat back in her chair. “So, why did he take you?”
His face was hard to read, as though he were caught between chagrin and respect. “He knew I was the one he was going to send before he escaped.”
“Did he now?”
He took a tentative step closer, then slowed, unsure if he should move.
“Rivers, I’m not afraid of you,” she said. “If you’re worried I’m going to alert the hangar, you have my word I have no such intention. Now, come over here and talk to me.”
He relaxed, even smiled a bit, then came to stand on the other side of her desk. If he’d been in a suit, it would have seemed he was reporting to her as he had for months under her command. But he wasn’t the same, there was no stiff back to his posture. That and, if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he’d put on muscle since she’d seen him last.
“We didn’t understand why Jonathan wanted me in that interrogation room after he’d sent everyone else out.”
Olivia nodded.
“You’re the one Jonathan needs to convince to believe him. But he knew, to you, he would only be seen as our enemy,” Rivers said. “But there was so much more, and he couldn’t show you.”
Olivia leaned forward, the tilt of her head giving away her interest. “But . . . He could show you, Rivers?”
“You’ve recovered the remains from Libya. You’ve got Dr. Watts running tests on it right now.”
She saw no point denying it. “It’s hard to say what was recovered.”
“It’s a Ferox—exactly what he warned us was coming and every bit as big a threat,” Rivers said.
“You’ve seen one alive?” Olivia asked.
“The last few weeks, I helped Jonathan secure evidence. He made a point of taking me along to acquire . . . prisoners.”
Rivers trailed off, momentarily considering his words. “He’s invited me into his inner council. Wanted me to be as aware of his plans as his closest allies.”
She considered all of what he’d said, but one point stuck out to her. “This is all very interesting, but it doesn’t explain why he had to show you and not me.”
Rivers nodded. “I’m the only one you’ll believe when he explains how he intends to fight them.”
“That is not a straight answer, Rivers.”
He closed his eyes, took a long breath. “He asked me to be one of them. He didn’t force me. It was a choice—of a sort. It was the only way I could see for myself what he can’t show you.”
Olivia failed to hide her uncertainty when Rivers confessed that he had become one of them.
“And are you going to tell me what he’s done to you?” she asked.
“Come to the meeting,” Rivers said. “Agree to his terms. Only then.”
A long silence fell as Olivia considered him.
“If you’re—one of them, why should I trust you?”
Rivers shook his head and looked at his feet. “Jonathan says you will.”
Olivia scoffed at first, but beneath the surface the truth grated, and she could hardly tolerate it. Being known so intimately by someone without her consent itched at her insides. The relentless irony that she could feel that way after commanding a vast amount of government manpower to invade every possible aspect of Jonathan Tibbs’ life was like nettles.
The only thing that was worse was the idea of letting Tibbs believe she was struggling to stomach her own medicine.
“When and where?” she finally asked.
He reached into his pocket and brought out three dime-sized metallic discs.
“The time is whenever you say,” Rivers said. “Where, that part I can’t tell you. Just make sure you’re holding one of these discs at the time you give me.”
Olivia looked down into his palm. She didn’t reach for them, her mind becoming a tangle of all the possible counter-measures she might have her people use to gain information.
Rivers was not long in guessing her thoughts.
“He promises your safety. I don’t have to tell you that if you come with a tracking device or some such, he won’t cancel the meeting—but he will send your team out to chase shadows in the middle of nowhere for their trouble. My advice is to go in good faith.”
“Why are there three?” Olivia asked. “Am I not going alone?”
“General Delacy will need to be on board. Jonathan thought he should see his daughter is safe,” Rivers said.
“And the third?”
“Dr. Watts,” Rivers said. “Jonathan thought you’d . . .”
He trailed off. Must have seen her irritation. Admittedly, Olivia was resisting the urge to snap every pencil on her desk in half.
“Yes,” Olivia said. “I would like to bring her along.”
Rivers nodded, looking down at the discs in his palm. He still seemed uneasy for her. He didn’t rush her, gave her all the time she needed to consider what time she would agree to meet. When it was settled, she saw that concern for her on his face again.
“Rivers, why do you seem . . .”
She struggled for the right word.
“. . . if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were worried for me.”
Rivers swallowed. “You have that list Jonathan gave us.”
She nodded.
“Soon, you’ll know why he needs those things.”
Rivers placed the three discs on the end of her desk. He stepped away, but paused as though he remembered to say something. “Try to get as much sleep as you can tonight.”
“Do I look tired to you, Rivers?”
He shook his head. “You remember the nightmares we watched Jonathan endure for all those weeks?”
She nodded slowly.
“I have them now,” he said. “I wish someone had told me to get one last good night of sleep.”
They stared at one another for one last moment.
“See you soon,” he said, then disappeared in a blink.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
DATE | TIME: UNKNOWN | FEROXIAN PLANE
AFTER ADJUSTING TO being in the cocoon, it wasn’t so bad. Inside it was warm—safe. But, there was nothing for Grant to do but breathe from the air tank . . . and think. He’d never much liked being alone with his thoughts and now, after inheriting the acts of his shadow, his own company sometimes felt crueler than what The Cell had done to him. No one should ever have to see what they’re capable of doing once they honestly believe nothing matters.
Heyer, he’d seemed sympathetic. Said he knew what it was like—learning what a shadow had done in another life. The alien said, he could only imagine what it would be like to know that shadow’s feelings—to re
member his thoughts.
A distorted echo—but not so distorted that one doesn’t recognize his own voice.
Grant felt Heyer pitied him. That had to stop. If they lived through this, Heyer was going to return to his father’s body. If Holloway—if his father—still dreamed, then it was possible some part of him saw what the alien saw—felt what the alien felt.
Grant knew, on some level, that this was wishful thinking. If it was more, then the alien would have told him. Heyer seemed a lot of things, but not a liar. After all, Grant now remembered what Heyer had said to his shadow. He knew the truth. That the device had been withheld from him for years because Heyer didn’t think he was up to the burden it would ask of him. His shadow had only proven Heyer right.
If there was anything left for him to do in this life, any chance that Holloway was still in there, he had to make Heyer see he’d been wrong.
Grant felt it when they stabilized on the Feroxian Plane. He held himself limp as a fresh corpse—as that was the idea—but the movement of his eyes let him navigate the HUD in his helmet. After a quick check that his oxygen was intact, he activated a screen to the outside.
Mr. Clean had built a far more basic AI into the external disguise that cloaked Heyer’s implant. This was currently making Heyer’s Ferox eyes appear inky black, but it was also transmitting to Grant’s suit to give him a view outside. Heyer was currently looking down at his mammoth Feroxian feet, only to stand up straight and take in their surroundings. While it wasn’t the same place Grant’s shadow had the displeasure of visiting, it was definitely the Feroxian Plane.
A guttural grunt drew Heyer’s attention; his view turned to a Feroxian male, an Alpha, standing with one hand planted in the black sands a few feet from the platform.
He felt Heyer draw down. Almost as though the presence of the Alpha imposed a weight on his posture. The Alpha waited until this ran its course, then began speaking again. Heyer held near perfectly still as he listened.
When the Alpha finally stopped, Heyer remained still for a long moment, then uttered a single guttural grunt of his own.
The Alpha scraped the dirt and pounded it twice with his fist. Grant couldn’t tell if the thing was displaying aggression or . . . something else? Heyer didn’t move, but his eyes flicked repeatedly to a group of Ferox watching them from beneath the shade of one of the rocky towers that scattered the landscape.
Finally, the Alpha pointed in a direction.
Heyer said nothing, but was quick to move from the platform and in that direction. The moment he was out of sight of the Ferox that had witness their arrival, he changed course, keeping low as he made his way out of the general area. This all seemed to have gone surprisingly easier than they’d imagined. In fact, there seemed very few Ferox about for Heyer to avoid as he made his way out.
Twenty minutes later, Heyer ran a single clawed finger down the cocoon. The opening caused the contents to spill out and puke Grant onto the surface with it.
“We are safe for now,” Heyer said, as Grant removed himself from the sac liner. “But I will need to return to them soon.”
“That Alpha. What did he say to you?”
“He was pleased that I returned. Most of the tribe has gone, left on the pilgrimage to join the battle for the Promised Land,” Heyer said. “The prophet has ordered tribal Alphas to remain with each of their gateways until all who have entered the Arena are accounted for. My return means they can prepare the gate for transport and join the pilgrimage.”
Grant nodded. “Wait, he said all that and he wasn’t suspicious when you said one word and left? What did you say?”
Heyer sighed. “That word, translates as . . . ‘where women’?”
Grant’s eyes went from his now empty cocoon and back to Heyer’s black eyes. “Right. So, he thinks you went off to get a piece of . . . tail.”
“Somewhat literally. He believes I am seeking out a fertile female for the consonance,” Heyer said. “Which is a problem for us. Even if I wished, this host is not actually in the proper—state.”
“Uh, this isn’t the sort of grenade I can jump on for you,” Grant said.
Heyer stared at the man for a moment before shaking his head. “Since so few of the tribe are present, the fact that no female disappeared into the mating caverns for the consonance will be noticed.”
“Right,” Grant said. “Um, I’m not pretending to be an expert on this consonance stuff, but couldn’t you just tell them that there was, you know, no mojo?”
At first, Heyer looked at Grant as though he was clearly going to have to solve their problem himself, then his black Feroxian eyes widened as he reconsidered.
“There is precedent in smaller tribes—very embarrassing for the male,” Heyer said. “Under the circumstances, few would ask questions, it would be poor manners to discuss.”
He thought about it more. “The Alpha would likely be pleased not to have to postpone the tribe’s pilgrimage any longer.”
“Great, so we just need to make you undesirable,” Grant said. “How does one do that in this species?”
“I do not rightly know,” Heyer said. “It is a chemical matter of pheromones more than visual stimulation. Luckily, mine are not currently on overdrive, but a female will still know if I am a suitable match if she comes close enough.”
Grant thought about it for a moment. “Do the Ferox have latrines?”
Heyer sighed heavily.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
NOV 15, 2005 | NOON | HANGMAN’S TREE
OLIVIA’S FIRST EXPERIENCE of teleportation sickness left her nauseous, effectively blind, and off balance. She stumbled immediately, but someone caught her. Her instinct to struggle free only relaxed when she recognized Rivers’ voice.
“I’ve got you, ma’am,” Rivers said. “Don’t panic, it’s temporary, just keep breathing through it.”
Finding that walking wasn’t on the table, she was glad Rivers was the one she leaned on to get through the indignity of it. She soon felt the reassurance of a chair pushed beneath her.
From what she could hear, General Delacy and Dr. Watts were faring their journey no better than she, but their hosts had been prepared for it. While she couldn’t see her, Olivia could hear Leah speaking to General Delacy.
She could hear Jonathan as well—he had apparently taken it upon himself to help Watts into a seat.
She felt Rivers pull away and grabbed his forearm. “Rivers, it occurs to me that you might have warned us there would be side effects.”
“I do apologize for that, ma’am,” Rivers said.
She thought she detected a touch of humor in his voice; it was hard to tell without being able to see his face.
“Thank you all for coming,” Jonathan said. “Take your time getting your bearings, there is—”
“Where are we?” Olivia asked as she leaned forward with her hands on her knees.
“You’d probably call this an alien spaceship,” Jonathan said. “He prefers to be called Mr. Clean.”
Olivia’s head rose. She stared at the blurry face with Jonathan’s voice, trying to will him into focus. Slowly she seemed to manage it, only to have her eyes drawn behind him, where the titular cartoon character smiled back at her from a large display.
“It is a pleasure to have you on board,” Mr. Clean said.
The AI’s words did not so much come from the display in front of her. Rather as if she were in a theater with state-of-the-art surround sound.
At a loss for how to react to that, she took in the rest of their surroundings. It was a small oval room, lacking any unnecessary decoration. The walls and ceiling were simple white paneling, the floor a hard-white cement. The chairs they had been given were overly padded white leather affairs that sat on swivels.
While it all seemed rather innocuous, she noticed two things she didn’t like. The first, she saw no doors in or out. Second—
“Where is the alien?”
Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest. “Heyer
won’t be joining us. He sends his sincerest regrets.”
Jonathan’s expression gave her nothing. She couldn’t tell if he was taking a jab or simply telling her how things were.
“Are we to assume you speak on his behalf?” General Delacy asked.
Jonathan took a long breath, his gaze going back and forth between her and Delacy. “This is getting off on the wrong foot. I’ve asked you here to discuss the list of requests I made the last time we spoke. If you came for Heyer, I assure you that he is impossible to reach and will be for quite some time.”
“And how is that exactly?” Olivia asked.
Jonathan met her gaze. “He is not currently in this dimension.”
Silence followed for a moment as they stared at each other. Far more timid than her company, Dr. Watts raised a hand as though requesting to be called on.
“What is it, Mags?” Jonathan said, his demeanor far more relaxed.
Mags? Olivia thought. The doctor’s first name was Margaret, but he spoke to her as though they were grade school buddies.
“Um, are we prisoners? There’s no door in this room.”
“No one is in any danger, you’re free to leave any time. Doors will be there when they’re necessary. This room is just a place we thought it best to have a chat before...”
He trailed off. “Before we get into it.”
Dr. Watts smiled politely as she brought her hand back down.
“What about my daughter?” General Delacy asked. “Is she free to go whenever she wishes?”
Jonathan glanced to Leah as though he thought it strange the question was directed at him. “Look, I’m not a warden, this isn’t a prison, and if you want to ask her something you don’t need to run it through me.”
“Dad, right now this is where I want to be,” Leah said. “When . . . if . . . that changes, I’m free to go.”
“In that scenario, just where might you be planning on heading?” Olivia asked.
Several telling looks were exchanged between Leah, her father, and Olivia.
“Enough,” Rivers said. “We’re here to discuss the big picture. Any comeuppance anyone feels entitled to can wait.”
A moment of tense silence passed.
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