by Larkin, Matt
God, let this time have a better ending.
For thirty minutes or more he led her through the winding ways, and at last down a hatch to a lower level. Overhead, a plant processed and purified water, running the cleaned stuff through the pipes now over their heads. He felt Rachel look up at them, but she said nothing.
From here, he had to follow the largest pipe around the bend. Beyond that, he bypassed the central bazaar, but Rachel stopped and stared down the hall at the cluster of shanties, sheets covered in broken wares, and barely edible food.
“People live down here?”
“Those who can’t find shelter in the slums above. The maintenance crews have portable air filters. The locals fitted one into the bazaar. Come on, it’s not too much further.”
He didn’t keep his sanctuary too close to the bazaar. It had to be far enough off the beaten path no one would stumble across it by mistake. Which meant passing the acid scrubbers stripping chemicals and alkaline out of the water before it reached the purifiers. The excess was shot out in compressed streams of hot acid that could melt skin, so most people steered clear. But you just had to learn the timings, and he had.
“Wait,” he said, and a shot of the steaming liquid caked the far wall. It lasted only a moment, and then they would have sixty-three seconds to cross. “Come now, quickly.”
He led her by the hand through the tube, and into a side hall beyond it. The old door ahead stuck, and he had to force it with his shoulder. Once, the room had been used to house maintenance robots and tools. The government had abandoned the storeroom a decade ago for newer facilities.
A faint light illuminated the room, now filled with a sleeping mat, a tablet with a few books on it, and a stack of canned food. “It’s not much, but we’ll be safe here. For a little while, anyway.”
Rachel sighed and sunk down on the mat. “I lost the Sefer.”
Knight shrugged. He was sick of that damned thing. He tossed the tablets he’d stolen onto the mat beside her. “Here’s the research anyway.”
The government was probably watching the spaceports now. They were good and truly screwed, unless Rachel had some brilliant plan up her sleeve.
She paged through the tablets, grunting every once in a while. Knight sunk down on the cold floor and pried open a can. Manna Products’ lowest end goods, cans of protein and vitamin meal. Crunchy, largely tasteless, and enough to sustain a person, if not satisfy. He broke off a piece and handed it to Rachel. She gnawed on it, then frowned, staring down at the bar.
“Eat it.”
He’d killed three of the Gibborim, counting Lambada. Sarah wouldn’t take any more chances. When they came at him, it would be hard and fast. For the moment, though, they’d be licking their wounds. Gibborim didn’t die too often. The new faces might be nervous, maybe just a little, at the thought of going after him. Maybe he could use that.
He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. You had to be able to quiet your mind. Had to be able to rest when you had the chance.
“I need to get the Sefer back,” Rachel said. “We have to get it back from the Redeemers.”
Knight had almost dozed off. It had been too long since he’d slept. “It’s lost. Forget the damn thing.”
“I can decode it now, Knight. With what you brought me, I’m sure I can. And we can’t let the Redeemers leave here with it. Don’t you understand what that would mean?”
He didn’t know, or care. He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. They were sparkling brown, almost yellow. “Don’t you think our situation is fucked up enough as it is? No, of course not. You want to go looking for more trouble. I won’t take that risk, and neither should you. The only thing you should be focusing on is getting us off this planet without either of us dying.”
She scrambled over to him. “Knight, listen. The Sefer Raziel holds the secrets the Angel meant for mankind to unlock, including the way to the Ark.”
No, no, no. This could not continue. She was going to die—they were both going to die unless she gave this up. Knight shut his eyes, not wanting to have to look at her imploring face. “Means nothing to me.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth, but she paid no heed. Probably sensed the lie. Damned empath!
“The Ark was the Angels’ central computer, Knight, the repository of all their knowledge. Maybe of all the knowledge in the universe. The truth about God Himself, some people say. If we had it…”
“We’d be the target of every power-mad little shit in the universe.”
She pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to open his eyes. Her touch had been warm even through his coat. Or maybe he’d imagined it. “Listen, Knight. This is the future of humanity we’re talking about. If the Redeemers find it, people will never even know. If Jericho gets it, they’d exploit it.”
Knight held her wrists, suddenly sickened by the blood covering his gloves. He yanked them off, then pushed Rachel back again, leaning in close. “And you think your friend at Quasar Industries won’t?”
She leaned away, and brushed her hair from her face. “Fine. Pretend you don’t even care about your race. But I know better. I know who you are.”
How? A few hours ago she thought he was a murdering psycho working for the government. How could she know him? It was not his problem. People had to look out for themselves. That was all. “Rachel…”
He couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close, then kissed her. Her lips were salty with sweat and none of it mattered.
At last she pushed him away and shook her head. “Knight, please. Not right now.”
“We could… The Third Commandment,” he said. “You know I have good genes. We’d have strong children.”
“Not like this. I’m sorry.”
“Are you one of those people who thinks you have to be married to have kids?” Really? He’d heard some offworlders claimed that, though Angels had never cared.
Rachel shook her head, her fists clenching like she struggled hard against something.
“It’s that other guy? Then why even let it start with me?” He shook his head.
“I just—I don’t know, Knight.”
He jumped up and stormed out of the sanctuary. For a while, he wandered the halls, then grabbed a few supplies from the bazaar. He couldn’t well leave her alone there for long. She’d wander out and get herself lost, or worse.
“Knight,” she said the moment he returned. “I’m sorry.” She rose and walked to him. “Really. It’s just not the time.”
“Whatever.”
“Look, Galizur can get us both out of here. All I have to do is call him and say we’ve got the Sefer and the translation, and he would arrange an extraction. But we have to get the Sefer! You know QI has the resources to pull it off, even with Jericho running things.”
What? He leaned forward. “Jericho?”
Rachel watched him a moment, then coughed. “Wow, you really didn’t know. Jericho Corp is the power behind the scenes on this planet. Your boss’s boss, I guess you could say.”
Damn. Had that been what the coup was about three years ago? Had he gotten caught up in some corporate power play? None of that mattered anymore. His old life was long gone, and Rachel was his only chance at a new one.
“Your friend had better deliver, Rachel.”
She nodded.
Knight crawled over to the mat. “Get some sleep first.”
She hesitated a moment, then lay down beside him and shut her eyes. A sense of surrealism washed over him, the oddness of seeing her decide to trust him so completely. Few in his life ever had. But she wouldn’t take him. His body craved her more than he could stand, and she had to feel it. The way she stirred, the slight tension in her shoulder—she felt it.
And it was more. He wanted her to give him children. In his whole life, he’d barely ever thought about it. With Shirin, there was never time.
And there wasn’t time now. Even if he couldn’t have her, she had trusted him. Off rotation a
s she was, that still counted for a lot.
Maybe everything.
“Rachel,” he said after a few minutes. “You know they’ll be expecting us. The Redeemers.”
“Yeah.”
Knight watched her still form, her steady breathing, for a moment before shutting his eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTY
October 5th, 3096 EY
Knight had said Galizur had better deliver. He was right. With the government after us, we could never get off Gehenna now, not without outside help. The spaceports would be closed to us. For the first time, I guess I began to understand how Knight had felt, spending his life in the shadows. He told me he had failed to finish a job once, a hit on a corporate suit. And that someone he cared about died to protect him. From that day, he lived in hiding, knowing the moment the government discovered him his life was over.
Tracking the Redeemers hadn’t taken long. The zealots spread fear everywhere they went and didn’t have much for subtlety. It didn’t surprise Knight to learn they’d checked into the Sheik. These people preached righteousness, but clearly they were used to the comforts of Mizraim. Out here on the edges of civilization, beyond the grasp of the great empires, people learned to manage with less.
It made them stronger.
“My source says they’ve rented the entire seventy-fifth floor,” Rachel said.
Knight nodded, crouched in the alley behind the hotel. He’d been up there once on a mission. The seventy-fifth floor of the Sheik was a giant suite with a central lobby featuring a hot tub, bar, and massive vid screen. Definitely a perk of wealth. And sloppy. They’d be relaxed. He’d slip in there and kill them all before they knew he was among them.
“All right. I want you to wait in the alley. I’ll go in, get the Sefer, and be back in a bit.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m coming—”
“No you’re not. You’d slow me down. I’m better, faster, alone.”
Rachel’s breath fogged her breather. She wasn’t happy, but she’d deal. “Look, just don’t kill anyone.”
Why the void not? Knight had to turn and look at her face. Shit, she was serious.
“I’ll try. Now stay here.”
He slipped from the alley into the shadow of the hotel itself, and from there strode to the airlock. He hit the buzzer and it whooshed open. Clear. He entered, hit the buzzer again and waited for the airlock to open into the lobby.
A man at the front desk nodded at him when he entered. “How can I help you, sir?”
“I need—”
A grenade rolled from around the corner. Knight dove to the side. It ruptured, spewing electrical discharge around the lobby. The edge of it caught his leg and sent him stumbling to the floor. Energy coursed through him, his leg convulsing, refusing to obey.
He had to get control.
Pain was in the mind.
His body was his own. Pain was in the mind.
Knight stilled his leg. Men were rushing him. Redeemers, five of them. He pushed off the ground with one hand, flipping in the air and coming down on top of one Redeemer. The impact slammed the man into the floor.
Another kicked him in the face. He stumbled backward, stunned. A man rushed him. Knight evaded the stun baton and slammed his hand into the man’s sternum, probably cracking it. The Redeemer fell with a sharp cry.
Jolts of electric pain shot through his leg as a stun baton cracked him there. He rolled with it, trying to get away. A man swung at him with another baton. Knight caught the man’s forearm on his arm, blocking several more blows from two more attackers.
He tried to go for his sword and another baton jabbed his shoulder. The electric discharge sent him sprawling, skittering over the smooth floor.
The airlock whooshed open as Knight tried to climb to his feet again. A sharp electric pain jabbed him in the shoulder and drove him to his knees.
“Knight!” Rachel’s voice. He couldn’t look up at her. He fell to his hands.
His muscles wouldn’t obey. Convulsions wracked him and it took all his training to keep from falling over. Pain was in the mind. In the mind. In the mind. In the mind.
“I knew you’d never give it up, Rachel,” the lead Redeemer said. “And we could hardly let a man who had killed so many of our brothers walk away from it.”
“Let him go!”
Knight looked up enough to see one of the Redeemers was holding her, pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled, to no avail, in his arms.
Rachel.
Knight tried to rise, but the pain took his breath away.
But pain was in the mind.
The Redeemer leader spat. “Filthy khapiru, the both of you. You’ll be washed and purified. Maybe one day this wretch will even be useful to us. With proper retraining.”
Brainwashing? Knight chuckled, his breath still coming in gasps. They could do no worse to him than Gehenna had already done.
The Redeemer turned back to him. “Glutton for punishment? You want some more?”
Pain was in the mind. Rachel needed him.
Knight glared up at him, growling through teeth clenched against the pain. “I want it all!”
The nearest Redeemer jabbed at him again. Knight was faster. He snapped his palm into the man’s elbow and the baton clattered from his hand. Knight threw himself onto it, coming up with it in hand.
The Redeemers rushed him.
Knight stepped behind the closest one, swept his legs, caught his arm and flipped him upside down, yanking his arm out of socket. He kicked another in the chest. The third swung the baton. Knight parried. Two of them were swinging at him now.
Rachel was free. Screaming. She tackled one Redeemer.
His adrenaline soared. Time slowed. No pain. No fear. No thought.
He twisted his head a centimeter to dodge a jab, caught a man in the stomach with his elbow, reversed to jab another in the face with a baton. There was only instinct, only reaction.
Two were down, all were wounded. They coordinated their attack. But they were too slow. Knight shoved one into another and cracked the third Redeemer’s skull with his baton.
Rachel smashed one’s head on the floor.
Only the leader remained. He swung. Knight ducked, pounding his fist into the man’s stomach. He spun, catching him across the face with the baton. The Redeemer’s weapon clattered away, and he toppled.
Knight rammed the baton into the man’s shoulder, and he convulsed.
“Knight!” Rachel screamed. “Knight, stop!”
No. It was time to end this.
“Knight, he’s my brother! Please!”
At that he let the contact break and the Redeemer slumped to the ground, his convulsing arms unable to support his weight. Knight looked at Rachel, hard. A tremble ran through the girl. Her brother? Her own brother sent these men after her?
Knight kicked the man in the face, knocking him over. Knight leaned down beside him. “Praise God and your sister for your worthless life,” he said softly. “And pray you never come before me again.”
He flung the baton away, then searched the barely conscious man. The tablet was in his jacket.
Knight rose and his own legs gave out. The adrenaline must have started to wear off. He landed on his knees, another painful impact.
Rachel pulled him up. “Thank you…”
He shook his head, then thought better of it. God, his temples throbbed. A sudden urge to go kick her brother again welled up, but she was already dragging him away to the airlock.
“You’re a good guy,” she said, hitting the buzzer. “Sometimes.”
No. He wasn’t. He was a killer. He had done what he had to in order to survive. That was all. All he’d ever done.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
October 7th, 3096 EY
In my entire life, I’ve never seen anyone get up that quickly after being struck with a stun baton. Knight claimed it was mere mind over matter, the ability to recognize the mind controlled the body. Maybe that was Gibborim training. But then
, I’d heard some of the greatest Psychs in the universe talk like that, saying the technique came from Angels themselves.
The Gehenna system orbited a red dwarf. David didn’t much like such stars—their dying light felt ominous, like a warning before the strike of an inescapable predator. From the moment the Logos exited the Gate into the system, red light suffused the bridge.
It took only a few minutes to reach the planet Gehenna. Waller stood beside David’s chair, eyes on the screen. David couldn’t feel anything coming off him, but he knew it was there. The anticipation, the need for validation. The captain thought the Sefer Raziel would ensure the eternal dominance of the Empire. Maybe it would. Mizraim was the legitimate heir of the Angels, and the only real defense against Asherah. The Ark falling to Jericho would be a disaster. And yet, to come here, to risk Rachel’s life…
All too soon, David pulled the Logos into orbit around the planet. He’d seen images of it before, but seeing it on the screen in person—the red, gaseous, bloated thing was all the more unsettling.
“McGregor. Take a shuttle and go get me that Sefer.”
“Sir.” David set the ship into autopilot to maintain orbit, then stood. “Lieutenant Dana.”
Phoebe rose from the weapons console and fell into step beside him. The bridge door slid open and they strode down the hall.
“Guess you don’t need a breather,” she said when the doors slid shut behind them.
He shook his head. Being a Smogger had advantages.
“I must say, I am deeply honored to have been chosen for such a prestigious and enlightening mission,” she said.
“Sarcasm noted.”
Phoebe grinned, revealing too-white teeth. She was young for a weapons officer, only twenty-eight.