Dark Matter (Interchron Book 3)

by Liesel K. Hill

  Bart’s face didn’t change, but something in his eyes may have crumpled. Or softened. I couldn’t tell. The dark-haired fanatic noticed it too.

  “Shut up, woman,” he said loudly. “You’re trying to confuse the issue. We want only peace.”

  “Peaceful men bring peace,” Adaiah said, taking a step toward the man. He stepped back.

  A feeling of restlessness in the crowd drew my attention. Many people who a moment before seemed taken in by the fanatic’s arguments now frowned doubtfully. Some even nodded at Adaiah’s words.

  “She’s right,” another woman from the crowd called out. I recognized her as a faithful member of the BCO. “This is all just…just…a show.”

  “Yes,” Adaiah said quickly. “A masterfully crafted one.”

  “Shut up,” the man said. He’d begun to look like a cornered animal.

  Adaiah backed him toward the now-jeering crowd. “Don’t let them deceive you.”

  I saw it coming. Adaiah had moved far enough away from me that I couldn’t reach her in time. The fanatic twisted at the waist and crossed his arm over his abdomen, winding it to backhand her. At the same time, I felt him gather energy. The blow would have more behind it than his physical strength. I lunged forward.

  I was far too late.

  His backhand struck her hard in the face. It would have knocked her backward anyway, but only neurochemical energy could have thrown her so far or so high. She flew fifty feet through the air and hit the mountain’s slope above the dais.

  Rage blossomed in my chest and my logic evaporated like smoke. I lunged at the fanatic, tackling him. Perching atop his chest, I did my best to pound him into the soft dirt of the meadow.

  The crowd pressed in around me, everyone shouting and arguing. I barely registered it.

  Shrill whistling sounds came from various parts of the meadow. I had no idea what they meant and did not care.

  Strong hands gripped my arms and dragged me backward. I couldn’t rid myself of the rage. Gathering all the heat energy I could muster—and in that moment of anger, it was a lot—I swung on the person who’d pulled me back, stopping me from meeting out justice against a man who may have killed my wife. I spun on my toe, throwing my entire weight into my arm, and clocked the man behind me directly between the eyes.

  I didn’t know who he was. Even looking at him, I didn’t register his face. Abruptly, I became aware of another presence. More people inhabited the meadow than a moment before. Most wore blue uniforms and held tiny whistles between their teeth. They herded the crowd into small groups and made them stand in specific places. The constables had arrived to break up the mob.

  Their presence grounded me. What was I doing? Where was Adaiah? I glanced down at the man I had struck, only now rising from where I’d deposited him on the ground. Bart.

  I hurried forward, apologizing. I knew how hard I’d hit him. With all that heat, I’d probably done damage.

  Bart struggled to his feet and turned to me. A burnt, black hand print, so deep it looked like a crater in his cheek, still smoked. But not as much as his eyes did.

  “Bart,” I sputtered. “I’m sorry, I—”

  He lunged at me. Natty jumped between us, pulling Bart back before he reached me. Soon enough, five constables stood between us, and both of us were being held back by our arms.

  A middle-aged man with a thick mustache held up his hands and screamed at what I’m sure was his top volume until his bulging face turned purple. Eventually, the crowd quieted for him. “Just what the hell is going on here?” he hollered. “This is supposed to be a peaceful assembly. The B.C.O. has never shown violence before.” The constable glared accusingly at me.

  “He was provoked,” Natty said. I couldn’t see my brother, but his voice came from somewhere near Bart. “These Unionists attacked one of our women. My sister-in-law.”

  The Constable glanced toward Nat, then Bart. He turned to me. “And you are?”

  “Her husband.”

  “They were not provoked,” the dark-haired fanatic’s voice reached my ears. I couldn’t see him either. “It was they who provoked us—” The rising murmur of the crowd drowned out the rest of what he said.

  “Quiet, quiet!” The Constable screamed, cutting the air with ham-like hands until he got his wish. “How the hell are we supposed to discern—”

  “Please, Constable.” President Zealey came through the crowd. “What you are breaking up is not a battle between opposing factions. It is a conflict between two brothers.”

  The entire meadow held its breath. I didn’t think I’d ever exhale again.

  After a moment’s consideration, the Constable nodded. “Then they shall both be locked up for disturbing the peace. And let that be the end of it!” He finished in a shout because the crowd began murmuring again. “Now, everyone go home. You all need to cool down. Anyone not doing so will also be locked up.”

  The Constables clutching my elbows dragged me backward through the crowd. President Zealey threw me an apologetic look, which I ignored. I screamed Adaiah’s name in his direction. The crowd swallowed the president.

  No one came to me, or followed to tell me how Adaiah fared. They took me to the community lockup, along with my brother. We were placed in adjoining cells. After more than an hour of silence, Bartholomew broke it.

  “I did not ever mean her harm,” he said quietly.

  I seethed anger, but controlled my voice. “And yet, you harmed her.”

  I felt his defensiveness from six feet away. We said no more.

  Not long after, a woman I didn’t recognize came to get Bart out. Some nondescript Unionist. Even now I can’t remember the details of her face. Typical. Once out of his cell, Bart came to stand in front of mine. I sat in the front corner on the floor, near the bars.

  He squatted down so our eyes were level, and either had to look him in the face or stare sullenly into my lap.

  I peered into my brother’s eyes.

  “I have learned things, Johann. Things you couldn’t imagine. I could kill you here where you sit. I want to.”

  A chill shivered down my spine. I’ll never forget the look in my brother’s eye as he said it. Cold. Unfeeling. Determined. He truly meant it.

  “Out of respect for Adaiah, because I inadvertently had a hand in her injury, I will not. Not tonight. But I will kill you, Johann, for the wrong you have done me. I will triumph over you, and all those who thought to leave me behind.”

  I answered without thinking. I didn’t consider my words, or worry about how he’d take them, which is very unlike me. “I never left you behind, Bart,” I said to him. “You only thought I did. I always assumed you were by my side. I never realized how you felt.”

  Bart’s face looked like a stone. My words didn’t change it, so I went on. I felt both noble rebellion and petulance, side by side.

  “The slavery of the collective will never triumph over the freedom of individuality. It’s a scientific impossibility.”

  “We shall see, Johann. The next time I visit you, it will be with death.”

  Then he was gone. I confess I didn’t not feel his loss. Not then. I’d felt it in the meadow, but Adaiah’s injury brought any mourning I might have done to a halt. Now I felt only rage.

  It’s been seven days. Adaiah is on her way to full recovery, with the Healers’ help. Several of the vertebrae in her back were shattered, though they did not sever her spinal cord, so the injuries were easy to Heal.

  It’s not only her condition that’s kept me from writing for so long. I’ve worked around the clock, truth be told, trying to modify my experiment from something harmful to something positive. Bart’s betrayal gave me the final piece, the final idea I needed. I want to use the collective bond as a protection against harm. I merely need to figure out the genetic sequence.

  I’ve little time, you see. Ever since the meeting, the B.C.O has been demonized at every turn. Those present at the meeting do their best to set the record straight, but no one listens.
We’re being called archaic, terrorists, anarchists, and murderers. Natty truly did kill several conspirators. No one talks about the fact that those he killed threw boulders at the B.C.O. leadership.

  The night after the meeting, President Zealey, Adaiah’s father, dropped dead. No one knows how or why. It’s most suspicious that it happened mere hours after the meeting. Adaiah is, of course, beside herself with grief, and I confess myself more sad at his loss than I would have thought. Being my father-in-law, I have been mostly wary of him. Afraid, as I suppose most husbands are, that he thought me inadequate to marry his daughter. But now that he is gone, I can only think that he was a good man, and miss him both for Adaiah’s sake as well as my own.

  The rest of the B.C.O. leadership has gone into hiding, fearful for their lives and those of their family. Soon the rest of us will have to go underground as well, and my resources will be severely curtailed. It hardly matters now. Adaiah is on the mend, and I’ve completed my work. I’ve modified the Cupola bonds the Core Union uses. When and if Bart comes for me (which may have merely been talk; I honestly don’t know at this point) I can infuse him with it. I’ll use both my DNA and Natty’s, so all three of us are bound. That’s what I’ll call it: the Binding.

  Once in place, Bart won’t be able to hurt Natty or myself without doing the same harm to himself. A strange solution, to be sure, but the only one I can think of to keep us safe from him.

  In the morning, I’ll go over the details of the binding with Natty. I must sleep, now. I feel more exhausted than I can remember feeling in my life. I will lay down beside Adaiah. And try to stave off this suffocating gloom around my heart.

  Chapter 22: The Strength of Blood

  2 Days to Eclipse

  Maggie sighed wearily as she made her way down Interchron’s corridors. Her exhaustion wasn’t physical. Not really. It came from overusing her neurological powers. It was afternoon, and she’d slept deeply the night before, yet she still felt exhausted. She wouldn’t get another chance at sleep, as they were all heading out this instant to go recover the orb. Maggie headed for the Southeast entrance, where she’d meet the rest of the team.

  “Maggie!”

  She turned at the sound of Marcus’s voice. He walked toward her from another corridor and she waited for him.

  “Where are you going?” he asked when he stood in front of her.

  “Looking for Jonah. I wanted to talk to him. Give him something before we leave. You can imagine how stressed out he is.”

  Marcus nodded. “Can I walk with you?”

  She smiled. “Of course.” She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands rested on her lower back, pressing her gently against him.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded and reluctantly let go. “Yes. I feel like we’re about to go on this dangerous mission and we haven’t really had time to—” she motioned with her hand, her fatigue making it difficult to find the words.

  “I know,” he nodded.

  They ambled down the corridor, and Maggie leaned closer, letting their arms brush as they walked. Marcus smiled crookedly, twisting the scar on his cheek, and slid his fingers between hers, gripping her hand with gentle force. His thumb brushed over what she affectionately thought of as her wolverine scar. She’d first discovered it after Vegas. One of several unexplained scars on her and Jonah after their time loss, which she now knew had to do with the team taking her into the future. Marcus had explained that she’d gotten it during some random mission the first time she’d been with the team, before losing her memories.

  Oddly, she still didn’t have the memory of acquiring the scar. So maybe what Doc had told Marcus held some merit: because Marcus told her how she got it, she consciously knew the answer, and her brain had stopped trying to recover the actual memory. Not that it mattered much. The scar had been minimal, and she doubted it had much bearing on the important events she now strove to remember. Just a clue to a time she once had no memory of. Maggie had more important things to focus on in the present.

  She slid her eyes sideways to look at him. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, and he turned his head to watch her while they walked. “I feel so bad about not remembering what happened in the diamond cavern.”

  “You don’t have to, Maggie,” he objected.

  “I know, she raised a placating hand. “Maybe when all this is over—the orb and the assimilation and everything—we could go back to the cavern. Try to recreate the moment. Maybe it would help bring the memory to the surface.”

  Marcus smiled softly. “I’d like that,” he said.

  Footsteps echoing in the corridor behind them announced someone walking toward them. Maggie dropped her hand and they stepped slightly apart. Their arms still brushed, but they’d been pressed up against one another a moment before.

  Marcus broke the gaze when David came around the corner. Tightness immediately took up residence around Marcus’s eyes.

  David pulled up short, his eyes widening, when he saw them. His perceptive eyes ran over them, and he glanced at the empty corridor beyond them. “I…didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t,” Maggie said quickly, before Marcus answered. They stood in a public corridor of Interchron, after all. They couldn’t exactly hope for privacy. “We’re just talking. Are you okay, David?”

  He looked pale, his face drawn and worried.

  “Yes,” he said unconvincingly. “I’ve come from speaking to Doc.” He gave her a forced smile. “I think I’ll try and get a few hours of sleep before we leave.”

  Maggie nodded encouragingly. “We should all do that.”

  David nodded and stepped around them. He disappeared down an intersecting corridor that led to his room.

  Marcus’s face remained stony during the entire exchange.

  “Marcus,” she said quietly. “You need to forgive him.”

  He stared at her with incredulity. “Why are you taking his side in this?”

  The betrayal in his voice sent a stab of pain through her chest and she grabbed one of his hands in hers. “I’m not,” she said firmly, then softened her voice. “I don’t think there are sides to be taken, Marcus.”

  He scoffed.

  “Marcus,” she scooted closer to him and tugged at his hand until he turned to her. “What he did was inexcusable. I’m so sorry you had to go through it. I can’t imagine…if it was me, and…Jonah,” she shuddered at the thought. “I…can’t imagine. You have every right to be angry. But everyone has a journey. He’s trying to make amends. He’s trying to fix it.”

  “Making amends won’t bring my dad back.”

  “Exactly. Nothing you can do will bring him back. You can’t change what happened. You can fix your relationship with your brother. I think you should. It’s important, Marcus.”

  Marcus shot her a challenging glare. “Why?”

  She couldn’t think of an answer. “It just is.”

  He gave her a half-annoyed, half bemused glance.

  “What about what the collective recruiter said,” she offered. For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about that. “Something about you and David needing each other?”

  “I don’t know what that meant,” Marcus said harshly. “And if it came from the collective—some dark prophecy or something—I’m not inclined to trust it.”

  “We don’t know that’s what it was,” Maggie objected.

  “We don’t know that’s what it wasn’t,” Marcus said stubbornly.

  Maggie glared at him.

  He heaved a deep sigh, getting to his feet. “Look,” he said, facing her. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to forgive David. I can’t imagine it now. Maybe, with the passage of time…” he ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know. But not today.” He turned away, looking down the corridor in the opposite direction David had gone.

  Feeling distinctly gloomy, Maggie threaded her arms under Marcus’s and lay her head against his back, squeezing her arms around his torso.
After a moment, the tension leaked out of him and his shoulders relaxed. He laid a hand over hers, where it rested on his stomach.

  She wished Marcus and David would resolve this enmity before they went on the mission, not only so they’d both be in less pain, but because it could become a liability for the team. Worry reared its ugly head in Maggie’s chest. She told it to shut up.

  *******

  “There they are,” Marcus said.

  Sure enough, as she rounded the bend, Maggie’s eyes fell on Jonah and Lila up ahead, walking side by side.

  “Jonah,” she called.

  Jonah and Lila turned and waited for Maggie and Marcus to catch up with them.

  “Hey,” Jonah said when they’d reached them. “We’re going to get some dinner. Have you two eaten?”

  Maggie raised an eyebrow at Marcus.

  “I haven’t,” he shook his head. “You?”

  “No,” she answered, and turned to Lila. “Can you two do me a favor and go ahead?” She included Marcus in the question. “I need a few minutes with my brother.”

  Marcus looked at Lila and jerked his head in the direction they’d already been walking.

  She nodded. “See you there,” she gave Jonah a quick smile, which he returned.

  She and Marcus headed up the corridor, talking quietly.

  Jonah watched them go before raising an eyebrow at Maggie.

  She took his hand and pulled him into an empty room. It had several consoles, but a thin layer of dust said they weren’t used often.

  “I wanted to talk to you before we all head out,” Maggie said

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “I know what it’s like to be overwhelmed by all of this. For it to be completely new and feel like it’s beyond your grasp. Believe me, I know.”