The Duality Bridge (Singularity #2) (Singularity Series)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  “Marcus,” I say when we get close. “I see you’ve made some new friends.”

  “The enemy of my enemy and all that,” Marcus says with a small smile. “I am rather delighted to find you still alive.”

  I grimace. I’m sure that’s the only reason Marcus is here, but I don’t need him broadcasting that to everyone. “You did say this would be relatively easy to accomplish.”

  He chuckles. “And yet, true to form, you’ve made things more difficult than they had to be.” His comment draws the stare of Commander Astoria.

  I give her a nod, which she ignores.

  Marcus gestures to the force field suit. “Thanks to you, I had to get some new clothes and pull in a few favors.” Then he tips his head to Commander Astoria. “But it was not difficult to come to a mutual understanding of our alignment of interests.”

  “We need to talk about that,” I say to him. “Because things have changed.” Maybe he knows what Augustus’s plans are—but with Hypatia so desperate to keep them a secret, I seriously doubt it.

  “Have they?” He lifts an eyebrow, his skin darkening with flushes of gray. “I’m sure we can discuss the details later.”

  I nod for Cyrus to go ahead of me through the door. I wait while Basha and my mother climb over the hot edges, then I meet Marcus’s gaze. “We need to talk about Augustus.”

  His eyebrows hike up, and for once, I think I’ve caught him off guard.

  I slip through the hole in the door without another word.

  Marcus and I don’t speak all the way up the lift.

  There are too many ears listening—human as well as ascender, with Leopold and several others joining us, all wearing the same transparent field suits as Marcus. The lift has been disabled, turning the elevator shaft into one long tunnel up to the sky. When we reach the roof, a half dozen transports wait for us, all friendlies. Even though Marcus isn’t speaking, his glares burn holes in my head, like he wants to crack it open and peer inside. Once we’re settled, I need to debrief both him and Commander Astoria about Augustus’s plans.

  I just wish I had more than vague warnings to give them.

  Marcus apparently laid waste to a huge part of Augustus’s complex with his pulse weapon, whatever that was. A few scattered sentry parts are the only evidence there was anyone defending the building at all. No one interferes as the Resistance’s legion of sentries and human militia ferry the rescued prisoners to the transports.

  I have a new level of respect for Marcus’s power that he was able to pull this off. And if he wasn’t an enemy of Augustus before, he certainly is now. There’s no doubt it’s the ascender part of the coalition that is allowing us to escape Augustus’s complex with virtually no casualties. But I have a feeling the alliance between Marcus and the Resistance is extremely temporary—probably about as long as it takes Marcus to fly me away from Augustus’s control.

  I insist on riding separately from Marcus, in the transport with my mother and Cyrus, just to be sure they aren’t shot out of the sky. There’s standing room only in the relatively small ship, and I’ve brought up the rear, so we’re separated. Cyrus gives me a nod across the sea of heads, and I know he’s keeping a hand on my mom, steadying her against the lurch of our escape. I should be in his place, but I’m stuck by the now-materialized door with a tiny window to the outside.

  As we hover up from the roof, shouts from the cockpit ramp up my heart rate. Commander Astoria is swearing at the pilot in French. Out the window, dozens of attack ships—a fleet so thick I can’t count them—swarms over the towers of New Portland. I grab for a handhold just as our ship tips sideways and rockets upward. I hope like crazy our transports are cloaked. A series of maneuvers tosses everyone in the cargo hold—airborne half the time and against each other the rest. Everyone tries to hold onto something, but the cries and moans mean someone’s getting injured. With all the motion and flailing bodies, I can’t track my mom and Cyrus. After a few seconds that feel like minutes, we finally level out. Cyrus holds up a shaky hand above the crowd, and I crane my neck to make eye contact. He gives me a nod to let me know my mom is okay.

  I sigh and lean against the cool metal framing the window. I can barely see the gleaming towers receding behind us, but the flotilla is still hovering over Augustus’s campus of buildings, not giving chase. Apparently, retaking the complex is more important than catching us—or maybe they simply can’t track us. Either way, Commander Astoria’s swearing has switched to English and at a decibel level that’s not deafening.

  The view of the city’s towers is soon replaced by rolling green hills. The rescue ships race into a winding canyon and skim the rocky walls while a small stream winks from the bottom. I hope we’re not being tracked because we’re not very far into the foothills before we start to slow down. I don’t see the makeshift tents of the basecamp until we’ve pierced the ascender-tech shield that spans the width of the canyon. We hover while the other ships take turns landing. The canyon provides a natural barrier, and the shield gives good cover, but as we descend, I still expect an oversized assault ship to appear out of nowhere and blast us all to fiery oblivion.

  It happened before—and the wall of fire and ash in my fugue-state vision says it will happen again. Whatever Augustus is planning, it won’t just affect ascenders. It will sweep over everything in its path. I only glimpsed his plan in Hypatia’s mind, in that nanosecond of contact, but it’s real—and the Resistance is in danger as much as the ascenders. They’re retreating to the hills, but I’m not staying with them. I’m key to stopping whatever storm Augustus is raising, even if I don’t know exactly what it is yet. I just hope that it won’t require any burning of bridges.

  Once the entire fleet of rescue ships lands and starts to regurgitate its human cargo, I finally let myself believe we’ve escaped. Even if Marcus snatches me away now, everyone else is safe. The glares I attract as we hover down, the last ship to land, make me think that being a short-timer in the Resistance is in my best interest anyway. Augustus violated their minds and memories for information about me, and the resentment is clear. No one looks at me. No one speaks, at least not to me—just whispers amongst themselves and furtive glances.

  Cyrus elbows his way through the crowd with my mom, meeting me at the door. I step aside, giving him and everyone else wide berth to be the first ones out.

  “You go ahead,” I say to Cyrus.

  He gives me a curt nod. “I’ll get her to the med bay. Have them check her out.”

  “I’m fine, Cyrus,” she says. But she’s leaning on him too much.

  Cyrus and I exchange a look. Her treatment was supposedly complete before the attack, but that still leaves the recovery, and the imprisonment and torture clearly took their toll.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” I say to my mom. She reaches out to squeeze my hand, which threatens to bring tears to my eyes.

  Cyrus gives me a nod of approval. He thinks I’m telling the truth, not just a reassuring lie to get my mom off the ship and into the med bay. But I know Cyrus will look out for her, no matter what—which is good, because he’s not going to approve of my plans from here on out.

  The door winks out of existence, and Cyrus leads the way down the ramp with my mom. A medic with a maglev stretcher waits at the bottom—he and Cyrus help her into it. The others file past me, a hush following as they go. I hang back then trail after. The sound of my boots tromping down the ramp invades their silent cone of condemnation.

  Just as I reach the grassy ground at the end, Commander Astoria storms down the ramp past me. She catches me by the arm, and although she’s a foot shorter than I am, it doesn’t even occur to me to resist as she hauls me to the side.

  The steely look in her eyes pierces me. “You.”

  It’s an accusation that makes the hair on the back of my neck rise.

  “I have many questions for you, Elijah Brighton.” She looks like she wants to drag them out of my head the way Augustus tried to.

  I raise both hand
s in defense. “Commander, I can explain everything—”

  She lowers her voice and leans in, forcing her words out between her teeth. “Why do they want you so badly?”

  I fumble for an answer. “It’s complicated.”

  She’s radically unimpressed. “And what is that to me, your complications? What is it to the cause? And what are you that they—” She cuts herself off as something catches her eye.

  Marcus appears at our side, having zipped over from whatever ship he just debarked from. Commander Astoria narrows her eyes at him but backs off.

  I don’t say anything.

  “Eli and I have a few things to discuss,” Marcus says coolly to her.

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” But she’s not happy about it. “I have many people whose lives are now at risk. Who must be warned that they have been compromised.” She runs a cold glare up and down me. I don’t know if she thinks I actually betrayed the Resistance, but it’s clear she thinks I’m the reason they were all captured by Augustus in the first place. Which is true. “You may have a moment with him,” she says to Marcus, “but then he will answer to me.”

  “Of course.” Marcus’s easy compliance makes me think he has no intention of following through.

  Commander Astoria’s glare tells me she knows it, too. She signals Grayson, who just made an ascender-tech jump down from a nearby transport. The pulse weapon must not have destroyed his augments, just shorted them out—or maybe a bot on the transport repaired him. Either way, he’s clearly functional again as he strides over to us.

  Commander Astoria gives Grayson a nod. “Escort Mr. Brighton to the command tent when the ascender has finished with him.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Marcus’s skin has gone gray, but I don’t need the emotional tell—I know we can’t talk in front of Grayson, and he’ll just get himself dead if he tries to stop Marcus from whisking me away.

  “Commander Astoria, please.” I implore her with my eyes. “I assure you, I’ll come to the command tent as soon as I’ve answered Marcus’s questions. Grayson doesn’t need to be bothered with this.” I’ll say it straight out if she forces me—that I don’t want her augment to be turned into hamburger.

  She gives me a measured look, and I can see the calculus adding up in her head: keeping me isn’t worth the potential risk to one of her best officers. “Very well.” Then she turns on the heel of her boot and gestures Grayson to follow.

  He does, but not without giving me a questioning look. They’re both headed toward what must be the command tent, given the standing guard of militia around it.

  Marcus looks mildly amused. “I’m glad you understand what’s happening here, Eli.”

  I glare at him. “I’m sure Augustus is standing in your way somehow, and I have my own reasons for wanting him dead. Like you’ve said before, I believe our interests are aligned.”

  He raises an eyebrow and has a hint of a smirk, but he doesn’t disagree.

  “Is there any possibility he was killed in the attack?” I ask although I can’t imagine someone as powerful as Augustus would leave himself that vulnerable.

  “I am certain he is resurrecting as we speak.” Marcus steps closer then drops his voice so the milling Resistance members watching us with slanted suspicion can’t hear. “But we should move this discussion away from listening ears. Need I remind you that Commander Astoria’s operation is not secure? She’s already managed to deliver her entire band of misfits directly into Augustus’s hands.”

  “She was betrayed,” I say, keeping my voice low as well.

  “Precisely why we need to talk privately.”

  I grimace. The last thing I want is curious eyes watching me sneak off with Marcus—but most of them believe he just liberated the Resistance, whereas I’m responsible for them being captured in the first place.

  I tip my head toward the outer limits of the camp. Marcus keeps pace as I stride past the just-landed rescue ships. The shield shimmers high above us—I’m careful to stay just inside its protective cover.

  Once we’re well clear of any onlookers, I say, “Augustus has Lenora.”

  Marcus gives me a quizzical look. “That’s really not my concern.”

  “Well, it should be.” That stirs up a mix of emotions I don’t have time for. “Besides, she’s still carrying a torch for you, apparently.”

  Marcus scoffs at that, but a ribbon of black writhes underneath his transparent protection suit. “Whatever feelings Lenora has ever had for me pale in comparison to her desire to bring out your abilities and control you.”

  “As if that’s not exactly what you want.” It’s an accusation with more force than I intend.

  Marcus smirks. “I’ve hardly pretended otherwise, now have I?”

  Heat rises in my face: I’ve been played for a fool for far too long. By both of them.

  Before I can come up with a retort, Marcus’s eyes narrow. “And how do you know what Lenora feels in any case? That’s not the kind of thing she would divulge. Least of all to you.”

  I meet his stare. “I know it the same way I know Augustus’s personal key. And Hypatia’s.” I figure Marcus has to know who Hypatia is, but he won’t expect me to.

  His eyes go wide, and he takes a half step back. “Wait, are you saying…” He stalls, then narrows his eyes. “You don’t just access the dead; you reach the living as well.”

  “It would appear so,” I say coolly.

  He recovers completely and lurches toward me, curling up a fist like he wants to smite me with it. I don’t flinch—because I know I’m the ticket to everything he wants.

  “Tell me how this works,” he hisses, tight and low. “Precisely. And right now.”

  “We need to get Lenora back.” I space out each word. “She knows what I can do. She was helping me do it. And now Augustus has her.”

  He eases off the intense glare, and I’m sure there are a million scenarios running through his vastly intelligent brain, but it’s really pretty simple: Lenora and Augustus are now linked, and that’s a very bad thing. I don’t understand how to de-link them, but I’m hoping Marcus will.

  He frowns. “I could have told her it was foolish to try to elude his reach. But I was surprised she wasn’t among the other captured ascenders. If Augustus has her, then he may have already cracked her personal key. Was she in her normal bodyform when he captured her?”

  “Not exactly.” I spread my hands. “Look, it’s difficult to explain. I stole Augustus’s personal key and gave it to Lenora, but by the time she tried to use it, he was ready for her. Somehow he captured her into his mind. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t have a better way to describe it.”

  Marcus has a slightly freaked look, like he’s just discovered I’m a pulse weapon about to go off. “You did what… no, never mind. We’ll get to that soon enough.” The freaked look settles into a scowl. “If she was trying to use the key when she was captured, that doesn’t bode well.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. And it gets worse.”

  “How?” he demands, the scowl growing deeper.

  “Augustus is planning something… something big. And really, really bad. I sensed it when I was in Hypatia’s mind.”

  Flashes of purple writhe across his face. “I don’t suppose you could be a little more specific?” He’s angry, but I think it’s mostly because he’s off balance. It’s the same look he had when he first realized I was channeling his dead mother.

  “Not until I can take another run at Augustus.” But I sigh in relief—because it’s clear Marcus believes me, even if I can’t explain half of it. “Which we need to do immediately. I don’t know how long Lenora can hold out against him. And once he has everything she knows, we’ll be at even more of a disadvantage. And whatever’s coming…” I hesitate, searching for words to describe the magnitude of something I don’t even understand.

  “Yes?” The impatience drips from his lips.

  “It’s not just bad for humans. Or the Resistance. Or wh
atever power games you’re playing with Augustus. This is bigger than all that. It’s going to destroy everything in its path.” I cringe at the vagueness. “Look, we need more information, right? And I know how to get it.” Which is only partially true—but at least I have a plan of attack.

  He narrows his eyes again, but this time, it’s like he’s measuring me. And for once, his assessment isn’t full of contempt. “I have no doubt that Augustus is capable of something extraordinarily ill-conceived—something that would adversely affect everyone but himself and his coterie of followers. This operation to retrieve you has had some costs associated with it, but there have also been benefits. I’ve been long attempting to break Augustus’s hold on our world. Ascender society is difficult for a human to understand, but you can think of it as a carefully balanced set of coalitions. Power isn’t held in the physical world, with armies of sentries or fleets of attack ships. It’s bartered in the realm of Orion. Ideas—you might call them philosophies—are the currency, and power shifts to those who can bring the most minds into their camp. There are many who have grown weary of Augustus’s influence—his ideology—and want a new way. A new path for us all. And when he broadcast your walk of shame, as it were, it was too much for many of them.”

  I grimace, but I’m not sure why ascenders would care about Augustus parading me past the Resistance in their cells. “He said that was for the Resistance—so they would know I was a false prophet.” The words are bitter in my mouth—I’m no one’s prophet, false or otherwise.

  Marcus nods, knowingly. “His real audience was Orion, and the ascenders within it who believe, as Lenora does, in a Second Coming. A second chance.”

  “A second chance at what?” I look askance at him.

  “Enlightenment? A true ascendance? There are many who are disappointed that the Singularity didn’t lead to a true age of godhood. There are many names for their yearnings, but they’re all part of the same Question.”

  “The one I’m supposed to answer.”