Antagonize (From the Logs of Daniel Quinn Book 2)

by Thomas R. Manning

  “Flux, they have armor!” I wanted to smack myself for not focusing on their outfit more with my bionic eye. I increased my gun’s plasma settings when a bright blue ball shot from one of the grenade launchers, passed by Orson, hit the wall, and melted a hole through it. Orson screamed. His arm was burnt badly. What the hell kind of weapons were these?

  We weren’t going to win in a fire fight with these men. Orson had the right idea, though. Another attacker shot a ball of blue fire but missed, the smell of the fumes intoxicating as another hole was burned through the wall. Still, with the damage this weapon was causing, I didn’t want it to land anywhere else, or on anyone else. Orson kept writhing in pain, but Strong got to him and pulled him back. Scott fired his own weapon at the attackers. Its bursts echoed through the stairway as his face was illuminated by yellow sparks from his muzzle. A barrage of bullets smacked into one of the attackers, the impacts sounding like hard taps against the armor. I fired my revolver again and hit another man the shoulder. He grunted and grabbed his injury, now smoking, but shouted to the man behind him and nodded in my direction.

  Uh oh.

  With just a second to react, I didn’t have time to think of the best course of action. But only two options were presented to me—get melted by a blue ball of death or fall a hundred feet. Between the two, I chose the ridiculous one.

  I backed toward the wall and pushed off from it, jumping over the railing like some kind of action hero. In truth, the distance wasn’t that far, maybe ten feet across. But there was still a moment when I was suspended in air and the only thing between me and the floor was . . . nothing. I was already in the air by the time the attacker lifted his weapon. I reached back and pulled the sword, swinging it down as I landed. The blade cut right through the weapon and a broken piece clanked to the floor. I jammed the sword’s hilt into the face of the man to my right, breaking his nose. He fell. I thrust my left hand forward and punched the jaw of the man on the left, who doubled back from the impact. I used the opening to shove my foot into his midsection and he fell into the man behind him, altering the aim of his rifle. He pulled the trigger and the blue blast melted the stairs across from us, only a couple of feet from where Strong had pulled Orson.

  I fired two plasma rounds into both guards, the power level strong enough to incapacitate them. Then I sighed with relief, shocked I took down three men by myself in such an enclosed space. Back in the academy I had combat training, but years later I didn’t know how much I had retained. Adrenaline can do that to a person—bring that knowledge forward so you don’t have to think about it. Of course I didn’t realize there was still another guard behind me.

  “Quinn! Down!” I didn’t look to see who said it or why. I obeyed and fell to the ground, jamming my back against a step’s corner in the process. Still, that was far better than being consumed by the blue blast that passed over me. A round of rifle fire shot through the stairwell and after a moment, the final guard fell to the floor. I didn’t move for a couple minutes. My chest heaved and salty sweat burned my eyes. Two men grunted and gasped, one of them Orson and the other the guard with the broken nose. The other four enemies were either unconscious or dead; I didn’t know what Scott’s weapons were designed for, stun or kill.

  Commander Scott walked over to me. His flashlight was back on and provided a small source of light. He offered his hand, which I grabbed and he pulled me to my feet.

  “Not bad, Quinn,” he said, then addressed his men. “Orson, you okay?”

  “It looks like a second degree burn on his upper arm,” Strong answered. . Orson was tough. His clothing had burned away and his skin appeared deep pink and raw.

  “Okay,” Scott said. The two men down the stairs didn’t move, and of the three above us, only one was mobile and he was easing himself against the wall while holding his nose to stop the bleeding. I looked at the sword. No blood. The corner of my mouth turned up and I reattached it to the magnetic strip.

  “Orson and Strong, stay here and wait for back up. Keep your weapons on this guy,” Scott ordered while pointing to the enemy. “Quinn and I are going to rush down to the lobby and get the power back on, and I’ll send medics up to you.”

  “What if there are more attackers?” I asked. He smiled.

  “Then I guess we won’t send medics up here, will we?”

  Good point.

  We stepped over the two men and I noticed a tablet protruding from one of their pockets. I pulled it out and investigated it as we trekked our way down.

  “Gaian spies, most likely,” Scott muttered as we skipped every other step to hurry. “How the hell did they get on my planet and where the hell did they get that kind of weaponry?”

  “I’m guessing Gaians don’t normally have that advanced technology?”

  “Not as far as I know, but the proof is upstairs.”

  With weaponry like that I was surprised the war still raged. Those rifles were lethal. I flicked through the pages on the tablet, trying to look for anything that could help us. I saw nothing of consequence, except one page toward the end.

  “Stars above. Scott, take a look at this.”

  I had already stopped in my tracks, and Scott had to jump up a few steps. The page was a receipt for a signed assassination transaction, to kill us. At the top it read Starcade Business Receipt.

  The Starcade was an intergalactic bulletin board. If you needed a job done outside the law, that’s where you went. My job with the Karthans was performed through the Starcade. Someone not only wanted us killed, but they were willing to pay a lot of money to have the job completed.

  Eight

  Commander Scott and I emerged in a dimly lit hallway on the first floor. The only illumination came from a door cracked open on the left side. Commotion echoed through the halls, originating from around the right corner. Scott stood against the wall and peaked over, and then I saw the weight lift off his shoulders.

  “It’s my men,” he said to me. “This is Scott!” he yelled.

  “Sir!” Multiple people shouted and ran toward us. The lead soldier was a tall and well-built man with auburn hair. He stopped in front of Scott and, with his index and middle finger extended across his heart, saluted him.

  “Commander. What the hell happened?”

  Scott briefed him about the attempted ambush. Four additional men ran past us when the officer, whose name I learned was Tallet, ordered them to investigate and provide assistance to Orson and Strong.

  “I don’t understand,” Tallet said. “I posted two men at the base of the stairwell when the power went out. Lee and Jones should have been here.”

  We found them outside the cracked door, their necks broken. Scott leaned over each of them and whispered in their ears. He stood and screamed out loud, kicking the wall and smashing his weapon against it. The soldiers with us did nothing to stop him, so I chose not to either, and made a note to never get this man angry if I could help it.

  After he calmed down, we returned to the main lobby where engineers wearing white hazardous material suits were hard at work on the circuit breakers behind a large, glass desk. At first I stopped, thinking their outfits meant the air was dangerous, but I suppose it was a cautionary procedure. There were men without face masks walking around freely.

  “What the hell happened?” Scott asked through his teeth. “How did those men get in this building?”

  The engineer on the right turned around, his suit swooshing. His eyes were wide, as if he stared at a monster, as opposed to the Sentinel’s commanding officer.

  “Yes sir, um . . . it appears that they overloaded the power couplings from the generator. They used this device. Quite genius really.” He held up a flat rectangular black box with no wires or connection ports.

  “Genius,” Scott muttered. “Why don’t you go down the hall and tell the two dead Sentinels outside how genius it is?”

  The engineer froze. Everyone in the room held their heads low, as if they all felt guilt from allowing the death of their comra
des. Those attackers were skilled, and the only reason we had the upper hand was thanks to my bionic eye. Commander Scott was convinced they were Gaian assassins, but I wasn’t so sure. Why the need for the Starcade and payment? From what I saw, Terra and Gaia wanted to kill each other for free.

  “Commander, sir,” Tallet said softly as he approached Scott. “She’s here, sir. She’s outside.”

  At the name of her, the anger surrounding Scott melted and his shoulders slouched.

  “Get the power back on. Now,” he said. “Get Damon down here and let’s get these doors open.”

  Damon didn’t mention family in his reports. Was it a wife or sister? Guilt tightened my stomach. I swayed and pressed my fingers into my abdomen, trying to calm the uncomfortable feeling. The engineers worked hard, even more so after Scott yelled at one of them. I felt a thud below my feet and heard a low hum. Light-by-light, the electricity surged once more through the building. The front doors opened and a plethora of people stepped into the lobby—some of them medical personnel, some holding cameras and microphones. One particular person caught my attention—a young woman with a soft face, high cheekbones, and eyes the color of a warm, golden sun. Her eyes were red and a path of tears led down her face.

  She was too young to be Damon’s wife. Possibly his sister, but I was willing to bet this was his daughter. I felt even worse for taking her father away from her.

  It’s not your fault Daniel, I thought. Granak did this.

  She caught Commander Scott’s gaze and walked toward us. Lieutenant Tallet handled the press, but I found myself staring at the young woman. She wore black pants that hugged her legs and a khaki jacket covering an ivory colored blouse. The somersaults in my stomach evolved into a small tornado.

  “Hello, Autumn,” Scott said, opening his arms to her. As they embraced, she nearly lost her composure again.

  “My dad,” she said in a voice light, but strained. “Is he…?”

  “He’s here, love.” I blinked at Scott’s sudden change of personality. The hard, grizzled Sentinel had turned into a sympathizing, nurturing man in a matter of minutes.

  “This is Daniel Quinn,” he said, waving his hand toward me. “He brought your father.”

  I felt caught in that moment. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, though that was a lie. I knew what it felt like to have someone you love taken from you unexpectedly. A memory of Ashley passed through my mind, her body on my bed, stab wounds in her stomach. I flinched and shook my head.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, though she might not have heard me.

  The elevator chimed and when the doors opened, the medical team I met on the roof walked out, pulling Damon’s stretcher with them. Autumn placed a hand on the coffin. As I watched her cry, I thought about the moment when her father died and looked away.

  “You all right, Quinn?” Scott asked, his voice returning to its previous sternness.

  “I’m fine,” I said quickly.

  “You sure? This crime scene you want to see is graphic, a little much for anyone with a light stomach. If you can’t stay composed around a grieving young woman, maybe taking you wouldn’t be the best idea.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve seen my fair share of disturbing images.”

  One of Scott’s eyebrows shot up. He surveyed the scene around him. The press was being addressed. Autumn was with her father’s body, and Orson and Strong were escorted around the corner, Orson’s arm wrapped up. Scott waved at them and Strong joined us.

  “Situation?” Scott asked.

  “Mack, Darling, and Iris are handling the prisoner,” Strong replied. “Orson is okay, the nurse gave him something for the pain.”

  “I want you back at headquarters immediately,” Scott said. “Two of our own men died today, not to mention Damon and the council members. Find out how they infiltrated this building. Report to me as soon as you can. Quinn, you’re coming with me.”

  Strong saluted his superior officer and moved off, taking control and giving orders to the soldiers. Scott and I walked toward the tower’s exit—a giant glass door that could have easily fit one of the Belle’s wings. The two panels spread open as we passed through the low illumination of the tower building to a dark, moonlit night—though I didn’t recall scanning any moons surrounding the planet when I approached.

  A number of vehicles ranging from hover cycles to large armored trucks were scattered in the road. Beyond that, screams, cheers, and a number of different voices filled the air. Signs were held in the air and even with my bionic eye I couldn’t count the amount of people.

  We Need the War, one sign read.

  Death to Gaia, read another.

  Control Everything or Nothing at All!

  Stars above. I expected indifferences and maybe hesitation toward the peace council, but I was speechless at the sight of hundreds of people screaming in support of the war. A bright yellow stream of energy blocked the civilians from crossing into the tower’s parking area. The attackers could have easily camouflaged themselves in this crowd, though I had no idea how they got past the beam.

  Scott led us to a sleek vehicle—all curves and no wheels. The roof and hood were dark red, while the rest was black. As we approached, the car scanned Scott, welcomed him, and opened the door. When I reached the passenger side, it scanned me, but blinked red.

  “Unauthorized civilian at passenger location,” a female voice said.

  “Override on my authorization, Scott, Reynold J.”

  The door opened and I slid into the soft, comfortable seat. The vehicle started and we lifted into the air, above the police and medical units, above the angry citizens, and took off into the night. From the docking tower to the Trenton Hall building, the ride was smooth and the glow of the city passed by us in a stream of lights. Scott remained silent, his eyebrows creased together.

  “So what I can’t figure out,” I said, trying to break the silence, “is how the hell Damon found me, and why he chose me to come here.”

  He shrugged.

  “I keep asking myself this question,” I continued. “I never met the man, never visited either of these planets, but he wanted me here.”

  No response from Scott, again. Either he was a man of few words, or he didn’t like me very much. I figured it would be best to shut up for the rest of the ride, which didn’t end up taking very long. We followed traffic patterns in the sky, identified by aerial beacons until we reached our destination.

  Trenton Hall was hard to miss. It stood alone, surrounded by a field of grass and sidewalks. Its most noticeable aspect was a large red shield that covered the structure like a bubble. I leaned forward and noticed a group of people surrounding the base of the shield. My eyes darted from the shield to Scott, who didn’t slow down at all as we approached. I grasped my seat and clenched my teeth together, thinking we might crash into it, but we passed through without any trouble.

  “It keeps unauthorized personnel from entering the crime scene,” Scott said when he saw my expression. As we landed, I got a better view of the crowd behind the bubble. The sight was the same as the docking tower; men and women of all ages held signs and screamed profanities about peace with Gaia.

  “How the hell are you even in peace talks? Everyone here wants the war to continue.”

  We got out of the vehicle.

  “A lot of people don’t want peace. Our planets have lived so long beside each other fighting, killing, conspiring, that it’s the only way of life these people know anymore.”

  “So how the hell did your governments agree to form a peace council in the first place?” I asked.

  “People don’t realize what it costs in finances and manpower to keep this war going. They’ve just gotten used to it for so long that the possibility of peace is terrifying to them. I can’t say I blame them for feeling that way. The truth of the matter is, too many people are dying, and too much money is spent toward advancing our military. Before you know it, Terra will be one of the most technologically advanced plan
ets in human civilization, but there won’t be any humans to use it. We’ll all be blown to bits by each other.”

  I could only imagine. Two planets at war with no end in sight until the destruction of one another. It reminded me of something Derrick Kenton once told me. He was the bartender of one of the premier human space stations in the galaxy, Galaxy One Alpha. He said that humanity didn’t evolve toward space travel because of discovery or exploration. We moved into space because we had already smothered the Earth with wars and economic turmoil. People with different beliefs and ways of living just couldn’t understand each other, which then led to arguments and eventually, bloodshed.

  We were quiet after that. We walked through a swiveling door into the Hall’s lobby, a grand room with four square columns. To my right, there were chairs and couches for relaxing. Across from that was an area filled with books. The other two sections were more recreational with exercise equipment and table games.

  We walked past an empty lobby desk and turned left at a T-shaped intersection.

  “You can hear a pin drop in this place . . . did you evacuate the entire complex?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it an evacuation,” Scott said. “Once residents found out that two men and a woman were brutally murdered, they all checked out early.”

  “Are we the only ones here?”

  “No. Some of my men are still investigating other rooms. It hasn’t been determined whether the killer had been living here or simply walked in and did his business before leaving.”

  “What about the other council members? Where are they now?”

  “We moved them to various secure locations,” he said.

  “Various? You split them up?”

  “We had to,” he continued. “We were lucky that only three were killed this time. Maybe the killer thought they were all gathered together. Who knows? We have very little information right now. For all I know, the Gaians are the ones who set this up.”

  “Or the Terrans, judging by that mob outside,” I said.