Antagonize (From the Logs of Daniel Quinn Book 2)

by Thomas R. Manning

  Finally, I explained to him why the murders occurred in the manner they did, and why we were attacked.

  “Autumn told me about the parade. If the council congregate around it, the killer is going to strike. Each time they’re getting more open and public. They’re not afraid of being seen or caught. In fact, they want to be seen. They want people to rally and cry for blood against their enemies.”

  Through my discussion, Scott’s resolve faltered minute after minute. His frown grew into a straight line, his shoulders relaxed, and his hand was farther from his gun than it had been. When I mentioned the upcoming event, though, that’s when he started to look worried.

  “The remembrance,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

  “The what?” I asked. Scott walked forward, and his clearance level allowed him to walk through the shield. He grabbed me and shoved me back against it. Its energy sent shocks through my body.

  “Why are you doing this, Quinn? What’s in it for you? Is it all about money, about getting your ship fixed, and getting the hell out of here? Maybe you just get off on adventure and danger. Tell me why the hell you care what happens to the council.”

  “Because,” I spat out, the irritation of the jolts building into painful spasms. “I know what it’s like to be a pawn in someone else’s game. People don’t deserve to die like that, no matter who they are.”

  “And this Granak bastard? What’s the deal with you two?”

  “He was hired by whoever is orchestrating this entire thing. And I get a damn fine paycheck if I can take him down.”

  Scott pulled me away from the shield. The pain subsided after a few seconds, though my entire body trembled from lingering aftershocks.

  “Let’s go,” he said, pressing a button on his belt, which deactivated the shield. “Autumn is in my office. We don’t have much time.”

  “You mentioned a remembrance. Didn’t the council talk about something like that, in honor of Damon?”

  “I didn’t want the council to go through with the parade, but they felt it would be the perfect staging ground to honor and remember Damon.”

  “Are they crazy?” I asked, short of breath. The two of us were quickly walking down a long, dull hall. We rounded a couple of corners and walked through two more doors before we reached the main hub of the HQ. “Why would they risk their lives out in the open like that?”

  “The council wants to show the killer that they’re not afraid, just like Damon. And they want to show the world they’re willing to die for peace.”

  Admirable, if anything.

  Then I stopped short, just as Scott reached his door. A recent memory played through my mind, something Autumn had said.

  “Commander,” I said. “I was under the impression the parade wasn’t for another week. If that’s the case, why are we rushing like it’s happening today?”

  “I received the order yesterday afternoon, while you and Autumn were gallivanting around the city.”

  The order. An order to move the parade up, to speed up the process, and make the council a bunch of sitting ducks. Commander Scott answered to only one man as far as I knew.

  “Scott. General Ambrose gave you that order, didn’t he?”

  He didn’t answer, but he didn’t deny it, either. I followed him into his office where Autumn sat at his chair, her head buried in her arms. She looked up as we walked in and when she saw me, she stood.

  “Daniel! Are you okay?”

  I started to answer, but Scott put both his hands up.

  “Worry about each other later. We have bigger problems.” He reached over his desk and smacked his hand on the table. A green light blinked and a familiar man spoke through the computer.

  “Yes, Commander?” Stern, the Sentinel secretary, said.

  “Get Trunker in here now, as in five minutes ago.” He slammed his hand down again and the desk cracked under his weight. Scott gave no response to the damaged console. When Stern arrived at the door, he pulled another man with him. This man was dressed in the same outfit as Stern and Scott, but his face was stitched in numerous areas. Was this the man who tried to attack Autumn at her father’s house? The injuries seemed to confirm that. Stern shoved him into the room, and as the door closed I saw him cover his eyes with his hands.

  Scott grabbed the guard—Trunker I guessed—and slammed his head against the table. The impact left a bloodied spot on the table and Trunker fell to the ground, blood trickling from his forehead. He was still conscious enough to scream for help, but Scott drew his gun and shoved it against Trunker’s neck.

  “That’s enough, you bastard,” he said. “Tell me Ambrose’s endgame. Why is he doing this? How is the Leondren involved?”

  I expected Trunker to plead for his life, maybe even deny the allegations, but instead he smiled. His lips and eyes stretched so far it looked, for lack of a better word, evil.

  “Death to the Terrans and Gaians,” Trunker said, then he pushed off the ground and tackled Scott to the floor. Before I could pull him off, two plasma rounds scorched through Trunker’s body and he fell limp. Scott pushed him off and refused to take my hand when I tried to help him up.

  “I hate traitors,” he said, then holstered his weapon. He walked outside his office without us, but we followed. He stopped in the middle of the hub, where all eyes turned to him, whether because of rank or the blood on his uniform, I couldn’t say.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “I want every single available Sentinel down at the parade. There is going to be an imminent attack on the council. Arm yourselves well, and spread out along the parade route. I’m going to say this once and leave you to your duty . . . trust absolutely no one. Report to no one but me. Do you all understand?”

  A collective shout of “Yes, sir” filled the room as each soldier stood at attention. In that moment, I witnessed greatness. I saw why Scott took betrayal so hard. His honor and pride were more toward his men than himself. He expected each one below him to follow his orders, to do what was necessary for the greater cause. He produced a well-oiled machine in his Sentinels. He didn’t care about any other possible traitors. He trusted, maybe to a fault, that his people would do the right thing.

  Scott led us back down the hall toward where I was briefly imprisoned, but we took a different turn and stopped at a large, steel door. He input a series of numbers and the door opened to reveal the armory. I couldn’t count the different weapons hanging on the walls. Scott pulled down an assault rifle and a handful of battery clips, and then he disappeared between full shelves and counters.

  Autumn pulled on a thick vest and grabbed a couple of grenades and a rifle.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

  “I’m saving my father’s legacy, and seeing that he died for something.”

  I didn’t argue. This was her choice, a way to remember and honor Damon. I wouldn’t step in the way of that.

  When Scott returned, he brought a few familiar items with him—my revolver and sword.

  “I feel like I keep misjudging you, Quinn,” he said. “Now you have both Damon and his daughter vouching for you, and they’re two of the most important people in my life.”

  “Don’t get all sappy on me, Commander,” I said. One corner of my mouth quirked up. “Let’s have a heart-to-heart after we save some lives.”

  “Agreed,” he said, and a sense of power and determination reverberated with his words.

  An entire convoy of Sentinel vehicles traveled at full speed through the city toward the starting point of the parade. Scott called ahead and learned that the council was minutes away from stepping onto its platform.

  Of the three people in the vehicle, only Autumn questioned our intentions.

  “What if we’re wrong about Ambrose? I mean, he’s in charge of all security on Terra. He’s been the liaison between the two planets.”

  “Quinn is right,” Scott said. “This parade is the perfect place to stage an attack and drive people into a state of blood
shed. The two of you must have spooked him when you found them trashing Damon’s house. They had to move their plans forward and Ambrose was the only man, save the President, to authorize the parade. It’s his signature on the confirmation order.”

  I never met Ambrose and never saw his face. From what I heard, the man was strict and kept himself busy traveling between Terra and Gaia. Somehow during his travels, he managed to orchestrate all of the attacks. He must have been the one who hired Granak to hunt down Damon. What if Damon found out he was behind the attempted murders of the council? He discovered that the account numbers for the Starcade transactions belonged to Ambrose, which led him to flee and find someone outside the system to help. Ambrose had to keep him quiet, so he hired a mercenary to kill him and negated the need for Ambrose to follow himself.

  The rest of the ride was a blur—five minutes of discussing plans, but never deciding because we really didn’t know what would happen, or how. Scott mentioned that Ambrose would be present to oversee an event of this magnitude. Our first goal was to intercept him and try to reason with him or, if nothing else, take him down and question him later.

  When we landed, the parade had already started and Scott’s attempts to call ahead and delay the parade were all blocked. There were plenty of soldiers surrounding the floats, though, and my bionic eye picked up multiple weapon signatures in windows and alleys following the parade route. A large contingency of Sentinels surrounded a tall man ahead of us. General Ambrose. Scott rushed forward with us close behind and pushed all of the soldiers out of the way until Scott and Ambrose were face to face.

  “Reynold, my friend. This is a pleasant surprise. I thought you were back at—”

  The welcome wasn’t interrupted by any attack on the parade, or the expression of confusion on Scott’s face. Ambrose stopped talking when he looked at me. We stared at each other and in that one second of reality, recollection invaded my mind

  I stood on Dawn, in front of the powerful lake of empyreus energy. My friend, a Dawnian I’d bonded with, was murdered. Laraar. No, wait, this wasn’t the memory my mind wanted. Something before. Almost like a recording, the memory rewound itself until I looked at a horrible mutation. Jason Hobbes, my best friend, a man I knew since I was a young boy, had been forced to take part in an experiment and was transformed using machinery and technology.

  Captain Sarah King used the empyreus to bind the technology of machines into the biology of man, creating the very first cyborgs. But something was different this time when the memory played. At the time, I was focused on Jason. My heart broke and I lost control of my emotions when I saw him, but I never took a good look at the men standing behind him, the other cyborgs King created. Now in my mind, Jason was blurred out, and the images of the other cyborgs were more focused.

  Behind Sarah King, toward her left side, stood one of the cyborgs, ready and waiting to kill me. I looked at his face, his nose, and eyes. In my mind and on Terra, these faces were identical.

  General Ambrose of Terra was a fluxing cyborg. And if he was a cyborg, then he answered to a higher power—my former commander, Sarah King.

  Fifteen

  I drew my revolver and pointed it at Ambrose, but not before dozens of guards did the same to me. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t care. The image of the cyborgs emerging from the empyreus lake looped through my mind. The only reason I didn’t fire was because Commander Scott threw himself between us.

  “Stop! Everyone lower your weapons!”

  No one listened to him, though I saw a couple of guards behind Ambrose turn to each other, confused.

  The parade continued down the street—a mixture of music and cheers erupting from the crowd. Even now though, in a time of celebration, I heard a soft chorus of boos from people who still supported the war. Somewhere ahead on the floats, the council stood, their lives ticking away like a clock.

  “Reynold,” Ambrose said, his arms crossed. “Your . . . associate needs to lower his weapon before I order my guards to take him out.”

  “We’re all a little high strung,” Scott replied. He stepped toward me and reached out his hand. His fingers wrapped around the barrel of my weapon and pushed it down. At first I fought, but then I told myself Scott was on my side, and he knew the high probability that Ambrose played a part in the murders. I couldn’t remember if both his arms were mechanical limbs, but if they were he would have the strength to rip apart the three council members.

  “General, this is Daniel Quinn, the advisor to the council. Damon Derringer left him in charge in case of his death.”

  Ambrose raised an eyebrow and took a long look as if he’d never seen me before. But I knew he recognized me. The second he saw me, he knew who I was. So why was he playing dumb now? He had the advantage, his guards surrounded us, so what was he waiting for?

  “General . . . Paul . . . why, with the danger the council faces, did you move the parade up a week?” Scott asked.

  “The council wished to mourn their fallen advisor,” Ambrose said without hesitation. “And with the recent murders, tensions are at an all-time high. If we waited until next week, the people may have rioted against us and the war would be inevitable.”

  “Bullshit,” I spat, my mouth moving before my mind processed what I said. Ambrose scowled at me and Scott pushed me back from him, away from the guards. No one tried to stop us.

  “Quinn,” he whispered. “Shut up. Do you want to save the council or wait in a cell while they’re murdered?”

  Autumn put her hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing and nodding with Scott’s words.

  “He’s right, Daniel. Play along. We have to get to the council. We can’t help them from here.”

  That gave me an idea. I walked past Scott and holstered my weapon. This wasn’t the time for rash action, but logical thought. Usually I didn’t excel at the latter.

  “My apologies, General Ambrose,” I said, his name passing through my clenched teeth. “I’m just concerned for the council members, now that I’m in charge of overseeing their well-being. If you would permit, I want to join them in order to personally assure their safety.”

  Ambrose’s scowl slowly morphed into the beginnings of a grin. He liked the idea, as I knew he would. If his intention was to kill the council today, I just offered to stand on ground zero.

  “I agree, Mr. Quinn. You belong with the council.” Ambrose turned and flicked his hand to one of his guards, who lowered his weapon and walked toward me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the group and my allies. “Ensign Lota will be happy to escort you to their location. Enjoy the parade.”

  “Wait!” Scott called out as he and Autumn caught up to me. Autumn put her hands on my arms, and for a moment looked like she was about to hug me, but she just smiled and looked down to the ground.

  “Please be careful,” she said.

  I wanted to say something back to her, but the words twisted inside my throat and left me voiceless. Scott interrupted the awkward silence by extending his hand.

  “Good luck, Quinn.” When I took his grasp, something small and hard pressed against my palm. I kept it lodged in my hand when I pulled back.

  “Keep Autumn safe,” I said. “And yourself.”

  “I will.”

  The guard led me away from the group. I wondered if I would see either of them again. By volunteering to stand with the council, I was risking my life, and Ambrose wouldn’t have agreed if he thought I could stop his attack. But Scott and Autumn were right, none of us could help them from far away, let alone a jail cell.

  We headed toward the back of the parade, where a number of floats hadn’t moved yet. Good. The best chance of enticing the crowd would be if the council’s attack came during their procession. Every twenty feet, I passed a guard who stood watch over his section. I couldn’t tell if they were men sent here by Scott, or if they belonged to Ambrose. When the attack came, which Sentinels would stand to protect the people, and which would fight against them?

  The floats themse
lves varied in size, shape, and content. Three of them were built identical to each other, but had been painted three different colors. The men and women standing on the first float wore jumpsuits of red with letters on their chests that read, “Unity.” The second float, blue, featured the word “Technology,” while the gold-colored third float read, “Terra.”

  When we passed the next float, my heart felt like it stopped. The guard grabbed my forearm hard and pulled me on. We were at the edge of the crowd now, and I couldn’t help but stare at the bronze and silver lion float as it passed us. I half expected Granak to be inside, waiting to pounce on me, but nothing happened.

  I knew we were close to the council when the next parade group was around fifty or more Sentinel guards, their weapons shouldered and all faces forward. They stepped in perfect unison. I imagined the order given, the guards turning and firing their weapons at the council, killing every one of them, including me. If all of these men were loyal to Ambrose, there may be no way of surviving.

  The largest, grandest float of all began to move in front of me. The floor shimmered white and stairs led up to a golden balcony, which rested on a large arch. Men and women, eight of them, stood atop it and smiled with their hands up, waving to the crowds about to welcome them.

  The council.

  I looked at each of them. What were their names again? If I had more time to be their advisor, I’d make a terrible job of it. The couple of days I’d been on Terra felt like weeks and this was the first time I saw the council face to face. But the more I watched them, I remembered the last names under their profile pictures in Commander Scott’s office.

  Trent, Burns, Finn, Larson, Smith, Greene, Maxwell, Rider, and Townsend. I’d learn their first names later if we lived through the parade. “No weapons,” the guard told me.