by Chris Lowry
“Oh man,” screamed Bruce. “You were in line for Commander? That’s just great. They’re going to kill us on sight for sure.”
“Quiet Bruce,” said Darwin.
“Oh no, oh no, we got the inner core of Intelligence for the Troops here. They won’t let this one go.”
Robe leaned across the seat bringing his face close to Bruce.
“I made a choice, brother. Now you shut up and live with it or I throw you out of the window.”
Bruce gulped twice and tried to sink into his seat.
The Templar smiled and clapped Robe on the back.
“You may learn yet,” he turned to Pip. “You became a Trooper to avenge your family.”
She shrugged her shoulders, looked at her feet.
“I guess so.”
“Have you worked out your anger against the Mob?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“In my world, after a raid or battle, farmer’s sons would show up to join us or fight us for revenge. We made a sport of killing them. Surface anger has no place in a fight. It clouds your mind. You must push it deep, let it burn in your gut. It will give you strength. I will teach you how.”
“Don’t bother,” she smirked. “I got it all ready.”
“Good,” he answered quickly. “I’ll hone it.”
He looked out of the canopy at the dark ground below them.”
“What happened to the lights?”
Robe checked his instruments.
“We’re over water.”
The Templar absorbed this new information and settled back into his seat.
“Can you keep us airborne until first light?”
“Sure, we have enough fuel. Why?”
The Templar yawned and slid the rifle into the floorboard.
“Don’t question your leader,” he said in a low voice and closed his eyes.
35
Nova Laud lay in bed, tossing and turning. Several times she asked the Computer to lower the temperature, hoping the cool air would force her to curl up and sleep. She just got cold and sleep eluded her. Her mind wouldn’t stop racing. Over and over she could see the Mob closing in on Ju and the others, and she was helpless to save them. From out of nowhere, the Templar would slide through the flames on the Hulk and beat back the advancing throng. She would try to replay it in her mind, telling herself it was Bram who was the hero this night, Bram who swung through the jaws of death to rescue the young Trooper. But every detailed replay brought an image of the Templar fresh to her mind. She could see his strong face, frozen in a mocking grin, the cold dark eyes staring through her, no hint of fear. She finally got up and moved to the window. Whenever she felt troubled or indecisive, she liked to stare out of the window. From this high up, the landscape looked peaceful enough, hiding the dangers that lurked in the shadowy darkness. Her view was toward the ocean several miles across the city. She often sat in a chair to watch the sun settle into the water and wondered what happened on the other side of the world. The Computer kept a link with other Computers across the globe, but people rarely contacted each other. History prevented it, she supposed, trust was hard to establish. There were no overt acts of hostility, each Computer assessing the other for strengths and weaknesses. Still, she wondered what would happen if some other country decided to take her City.
“I’d give them the Mob,” she said out loud, smiling.
She went to the wall dispenser for a small cup of herbal tea, hoping the mild depressant she keyed in the equation would do the trick. Just enough to relax her brain, but hopefully not too much to make her oversleep. Morning was a few short hours away and she had to make an effort to find the prisoner and Robe. The Computer demanded that they be brought back in, and it was her duty to follow through.
Even if she had run out of options. Even if the databanks offered no solutions on their whereabouts, and her own instinct was refusing to help.
She sat in a chair and sipped her tea, hoping that sleep would clear her mind and offer new solutions. The depressant kicked in, and she forced herself to the bed.
“I’m going to sleep in,” she told herself, knowing she couldn’t, but still enjoying the thought. She deserved to sleep in.
“I wonder what he’s doing?” she mumbled, slipping into that nether state between reality and dreams, picturing the Templar beside her.
She missed the urgent bell on her email, too lost in sleep to notice.
36
The Templar woke quickly as the pitch in the car’s engine changed.
“What is it?” he asked, bringing the rifle off the floor in a smooth fluid motion.
“I’m not sure,” said Robe.
His fingers danced on the control board, running an instrument check.
“Choke back the throttle,” Pip said from the back. She was sandwiched between Bruce and Darwin, both still asleep with their heads on her shoulders.
“I tried,” Robe said. “All readings are normal.”
The engine switched back to a normal thrum with no hitch.
“What did you do?” asked Pip.
“Nothing.”
“It just does that,” said Darwin, waking up and wiping his eyes. “I don’t know why, but ever since the last tune up. I had to rework my onboard for better efficiency, and this is its revenge.”
He smiled, reached across Pip and pushed Bruce’s head to lean on the window.
“Wake up, boy.”
“Thanks, Doc,” she said, massaging feeling back into her numb arms.
“Nothing of it. Where are we?” he asked Robe.
“Just a few more minutes,” he answered.
The Templar was staring out of the canopy, watching the water below.
“I’ve only heard of the oceans in legends,” he spoke with a hint of awe in his voice. “It’s bigger than I thought.”
“Over seventy percent of the earth’s surface,” lectured Darwin.
“All controlled by the Corsairs,” added Bruce.
“Not all of it,” said Bruce.
They stared at him. He blushed and lowered his head.
“Well, they mainly stick to the coasts and large island clusters. No reason for them to ply the whole ocean.”
“Good point,” said Darwin. “We just have to find an island out of their sphere of influence. Can we fly that far?”
“No,” the Templar said to the window. “I want to remain near the Coast first. We have unfinished business in the City.”
“What? You’re crazy! They’ll kill you if you go back there.”
The Templar looked at Bruce, enough for the young man to slump back in his seat and look away.
“What do we have back there?” Robe broke in.
“I will discuss it later.”
“Wait a minute,” Pip leaned up and grabbed his shoulder. “We’re part of your team now. We gave up a lot to be with you. We deserve to know what you’re planning.”
The Templar pushed her back into the seat.
“It is your job to do as I say. I am the leader.”
“Hey, don’t treat her like that,” Robe shouted. “We’re your friends.”
“That may be,” the Templar growled. “But in my camp, what I say is law. If you do not agree, you are free to go.”
“Where would we go,” sniped Pip.
“I don’t want to be in your camp. Can I go?” asked Bruce.
“As soon as we land,” the Templar promised.
A shrill beep came from the console.
“Incoming!” screamed Robe. “Prepare for impact!”
The front of the car exploded into two sections, throwing around everyone inside.
“Help me!” Robe yelled, pulling up the yoke as the nose plunged.
They plummeted through the air, water growing closer by the second.
The Templar grabbed the control stick and yanked back, pulling them up at the last second.
The car slammed into the water, skipping like a stone, once, twice, three times. Each impact wa
s like hitting a brick wall. Sections of the hover car were ripped away by seawater, the canopy cracked and shattered. Everyone was thrown around, bouncing off each other. The car came to rest on a shallow reef, a few hundred yard from shore.
Reacting quickly, the Templar popped the canopy and slid it back. He stood on the seat, breathing deeply as salt water washed over into the cockpit.
“Anyone hurt?”
Moans greeted him, but he didn’t see any blood.
“Your engine wasn’t too reliable, Darwin.”
“Don’t blame my engine,” the Doctor grumbled, standing on the seat beside the Templar, holding a cut on his head. “We were shot down.”
Robe propped his rifle up on the side of the open cockpit.
“You two make good targets up there,” he whispered. “Anyone watching can potshot you down.”
“We can walk to the shore,” said the Templar, taking a step over the side. “I can see the bottom.”
“No,” said Pip as Darwin made a grab for the warrior.
He plopped in the water and sank ten feet to the bottom.
“Can he swim?” she asked.
Robe connected his helmet, and dove over the side after him. He pulled the Templar to the surface without a sputter.
“Swim,” he told him.
The Templar struck for shore with surprisingly strong, powerful strokes.
“We should follow him,” Robe called into the car.
“My things will get wet,” complained the Doctor.
Pip handed him a waterproof bag before putting her helmet on.
“Will you need help?”
Bruce jumped over the side and swam for shore.
“Guess not.”
Darwin loaded his bag and handed it to her. She slung it over her head.
“I’m afraid I’m not very good at this,” he said.
She jumped over the side, floated beside Robe.
“Grab my back, I’ll haul you in.”
They made it to the shore and clambered up the sand to the Templar.
Robe collapsed beside him, holding his wet rifle cross his lap.
“You know who shot us?”
The Templar pointed.
“They did.”
37
“Who are they?” Nova asked, massaging the bridge of her nose to forestall the headache.
“Mr. Talbot, and Mr. Jenkins. They’ve been waiting.”
She nodded, indicating to Stephen that the two men could come in. She knew they had been waiting, her Computer chimed with the e-mail they would be coming today at precisely ten o’clock. Her chronometer told her it was ten twenty-five. It was hope that kept her calling them in right away, hope they would go away and leave her alone.
“You know what they’re here for?” Stephen asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Last night,” she sighed and brushed the hair back from her face. “Show them in.”
She expected stern faces full of questions about the debacle that had cost the life of one Trooper last night, but when they entered the room, Jenkins and Talbot were smiling.
“Good day, Ms. Laud,” Talbot began, holding out his hand. His voice was deep, with a hint of an accent from the Interior regions. She suspected his family had made their way to the Coast sometime in the near past and made a mental note to herself to do a background check on the Councilman.
“Gentlemen, please sit. What can I do for you?”
Jenkins looked at Talbot as if asking permission to speak.
“We’ve come to talk to you about funding.”
“What particular question would that be?”
“We think the escape of the prisoner has chipped away at the confidence our constituents had in your Unit. When you called off your participation in next week’s event, we were worried. We need you to reconsider.”
Nova cleared her throat.
“I now you need us there to collect. But I don’t understand why it has to be me. Can’t people just know we’re there without seeing us?”
Talbot wrung his hands.
“Our people feel better when they see what their money is doing. Which is why Talbot and I came to ask you to reconsider. Now is not the time to back down.”
She stood up and walked behind their chairs.
“I’m in the middle of a manhunt. I need to concentrate all my energy on finding the prisoner.”
Jenkins nodded, motioned to Talbot.
“That is precisely why you need to go,” said Talbot. “This fiasco is taking its toll. Can’t you just announce that you’ve captured him and let it be that?”
“A Trooper does not give up,” she said coldly.
“Don’t give me that,” Jenkins stood up to face her. “Conrad used to toss that mantra crap when he didn’t get his way. It didn’t work then, it doesn’t work now. Come on,” he motioned for Talbot to follow.
“I’m sorry you forced us into this position,” he said over his shoulder. “You will attend the function, or we’ll shut the whole program down.”
Nova stalked after them, stopped the two men at the door.
“You can’t do that,” she said.
“Watch me.”
Jenkins pushed past her. They disappeared through the door. She was left staring at the portrait.
“What do you think of that?” she asked.
“You really flubbed that one,” she could hear his gravelly voice. “Where’s your patience, your desire to succeed?”
She walked back to her desk and wondered herself. She didn’t like the fact that the Council controlled her Unit’s purse strings.
“At least we’re not pirates,” she breathed, settling in front of her terminal. “Not yet.”
38
“Corsairs,” hissed Pip, dropping to her stomach and aiming at them.
“Hold,” ordered the Templar.
He stepped forward and smiled.
“Why are you men standing there? See if this man is wounded.”
His voice was deep and commanding. The three pirates looked at him, confused. They dropped the shoulder rocket they were carrying and stepped closer to Bruce. One held the other two back, grumbling and glaring at the Templar.
“What are you waiting for,” his deep voice boomed over the beach.
The three Corsairs jumped, moved on Bruce and checked his limbs. Robe and Darwin watched, tense. Pip held her rifle on the men.
“I am here to visit your boss,” said the Templar. “Where is he?”
“Ain’t no boss here,” said the one who held the others back.
“Of course there is,” the Templar started walking up the trial. He scooped up the two rocket launchers as he passed by them.
Everyone hurried to catch up with him.
“Who tells you what to do?” he asked the three pirates as they fell in step behind him.
“We ain’t supposed to tell you?”
“You’re not,” he laughed. “What are you supposed to do?”
They looked at each other uncomfortably.
“Go on, you can tell me.”
“We’re supposed to kill you and take your stuff,” the dark-haired pirate said.
Robe realized the men were hypnotized. The Templar had put a glamour on them with his voice and they couldn’t help but believe him.
“I wonder what he looks like to them,” he nudged Pip.
“Listen,” she said in a voice filled with fear.
They followed behind the three men, and Robe listened to the Templar ask them about their leader.
His voice grew deeper, more menacing. His appearance changed, his shape changed. He got larger than twice as big as any man in height and width. His gun was big too, almost as long as a man, with black spikes sticking out from the barrel like daggers. His face contorted into that of a demon. He looked at Robe with serpent eyes, noted the terror and shifted his voice to set him free.
Robe was left gasping beside Pip.
“Did you see that?” he shuddered.
&nb
sp; “Evil incarnate,” she whispered.
Bruce cowered on the trail just behind them, whimpering.
“I saw it too. How does he do that?”
The Corsairs followed the Templar, fear making their limbs shake.
“He does it with his voice,” Darwin explained with an air of wonder. “He looks different to each of us, I suspect. I read a little about it. He casts a shadow, and we see the shadow.”
“They why don’t they see the Devil?” whispered Bruce.
“They are pirates,” said Robe. “They are evil, so maybe they see him as one of their own.”
Pip looked at her friend.
“I never noticed before, but you categorize people quickly.”
“You have to read them, it’s part of the Commander Training.”
She pointed to the Templar.
“How do you read him?”
“That’s why they wanted to kill him,” he said as they followed the demon into the woods. “We can’t see him.”
39
“I don’t know where he is,” the Academy Administrator stood in the doorway of Darwin’s laboratory. He was a tall thin man with long wispy hair that floated around his head as if it had a mind of it’s own.
“His terminal hasn’t been logged in since yesterday. Maybe he’ll show up later.”
Darren trailed after Harry as he searched the lab.
“I thought he spent all his time here.”
“Well,” the Administrator adjusted his glasses. “He does have a flat somewhere.”
“That’s a lame defense,” said Darren. “He’s lived here since his wife died. Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him or Bruce.”
“The assistant’s gone too?” Harry went to the Computer terminal.
His fingers tapped a series of commands.
“What’s the matter with this thing?”
The Administrator settled in a chair beside him.
“Let me check.”
He typed so fast it sounded like a machine gun. He looked up at Harry with wide eyes.
“This terminal isn’t logged to the Network.”
Harry shoved him out of the way.