Corruption_Age Of Expansion_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Sarah Noffke

  The Q-Ship set down smoothly on a cloud, cloaked and seemingly floating in the middle of the air. It inched forward a bit before finding its final resting place. Lewis blinked out at the blue sky, filled with large white clouds that reflected the sunlight.

  “This is it?” he asked, squinting in the brightness.

  “According to Pip, so I don’t know,” Bailey said, her tone dripping with mock condescension.

  “This is it!” Pip insisted.

  “I thought that the building was supposed to materialize when we got here,” Lewis said, unfastening his seat belt and staring out at the blue waters.

  “Maybe we have to get a little closer,” Bailey suggested, straightening out of her seat and retrieving the cloaking belts that Hatch had given them, as well as some other equipment.

  “So, what? Are we supposed to step off the ship with blind faith that there is ground underneath us?” Lewis asked, taking the belt she handed him and fastening it around his waist.

  It used the same crystal technology as the ship, but was a little less reliable, since the cloak for the ship was built right into the armor, and the belt had to cloak a whole human body from only a fixed point. Still, Hatch assured them that it was a good tool and probably their only hope for successfully sneaking into the headquarters, which was still invisible.

  “It’s a mirage,” Bailey reasoned. “If we can’t see it, that means our vantage point is off.”

  “So then what’s your plan?” Lewis asked her as she headed for the back of the ship.

  She turned back to face him, and slammed her hand down on the lever for the hatch door. “Get a different perspective.”

  The hatch opened with a series of clicking noises, which were thankfully not too loud. Lewis stepped forward, and to his surprise, a skyscraper towered in the distance, a giant balloon attached to the top of it. Around the ship was a manicured lawn featuring a few shrubs and topiaries. It was incredible—they were standing on a floating platform.

  “Well, there you go. A different vantage point changes everything.” Bailey extended a hand in the direction of the building.

  Lewis gave her a long, dull look. “You’re going to be impossible now, aren’t you?”

  “Like a unicorn at a rainbow museum,” she agreed, sticking her tongue out at him.

  “Well, since we can see where we’re going now, I say we turn the tables and go incognito,” Lewis proposed, anxious to try the cloaking belt. Hatch had wanted them to conserve the crystals, so this would be their first time activating the cloaks.

  He clicked the button on the side of the belt, but nothing happened.

  “I don’t think it’s working,” he said, looking at his arms.

  “Three, two, one,” Pip counted, and on cue, Lewis disappeared completely.

  “Oh, wow,” he said. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you, Pip?”

  “Old soul, like I said,” the AI said coolly.

  Bailey pressed the button on her own cloaking device. “Make sure you have your comm on, or we’re totally going to lose each other.”

  “Roger that,” Lewis said, checking his comm.

  A moment later, Bailey disappeared before him. “Looks like we’re ready to go exploring,” he heard her disembodied voice say.

  “I’ll lead the way,” he decided, taking a step down the ramp onto the artificial grass of the lawn.

  “Oh, and, lieutenant,” Pip said as they were disembarking the ship.

  The sound of Bailey’s footsteps halted. “Yeah?”

  “Nice landing. I never doubted you.” Pip sounded proud.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Starboards Corp Headquarters, Tangki System

  The fake grass doesn’t crushed underfoot like the real stuff. Nostalgia suddenly coursed through Lewis’s bones. It felt strange to miss the smell of manure, but that scent, as well as the smell of hay and dirt, were part of the simple ranch life. Easier in a way.

  He moved to peer down at his fingers, but remembered he was cloaked. Still, he knew that his fingernails were clean, unlike when he was a ranch hand.

  Going back to being a detective had been too easy, and Lewis was having to constantly remind himself why he quit. Detectives exist because people lie, cheat, steal…kill.

  That wasn’t the life he wanted for himself, and the last case he’d worked had ruined him, both his reputation and his bank account. Only his uncle, Jack Renfro, would employ him at this point.

  No, after this case was solved, Lewis would be done and back on Underwood Farm with Gatsby, his favorite horse, and Langdon, his least favorite goat. He smiled to himself, thinking of the animals that were a lot less complex than people.

  He stared out to the distant waters of the sea, a strange thought occurring to him.

  “The commute to work here must be a pain,” he whispered to Bailey. He heard a small laugh fall out of her mouth.

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I’m guessing the aircraft are on the roof.”

  “You’ll probably get a gold star from Hatch if we find out what sort of gas they use in that balloon.”

  “Then we aren’t leaving until we find it. I freaking love gold stars,” she said, laughing.

  “I kind of knew that about you.” Lewis tried to picture Bailey’s childhood room in his head. “Did you have shelves of trophies growing up?”

  They were nearly to the building when she said, “So many that I started giving them to my younger sisters.”

  He had already pegged her as the oldest, probably of a large family. He suspected she came from blue collar parents who worked odd hours so that someone was always with the kids. He also sensed that Bailey had wanted something better for her life. Less ordinary. She wasn’t the type that could settle for second place; what was good enough for her family never quite cut it for her.

  Lewis had figured all this out about the soldier without her having said a word about it…yet. He knew he could get her to talk. The question was, did he want to.

  There was something about having a partner again that felt so right, but this wasn’t a feeling business. The truth was that depending on another person was only going to get him in trouble…again.

  The entrance doors opened automatically when they approached the front of the building. Lewis stopped on the threshold, catching the curious look of the security guard stationed at the entrance. He and Bailey might be cloaked, but they couldn’t fool the sensors.

  The security guard, dressed all in white, left his post and stepped forward, coming to a stop directly in front of Lewis. He peered out the door, looking left and right. After a moment, he shook his head, seeming to dismiss the occurrence as a fluke. When he’d resumed his place at the side of the entrance, Lewis chanced a step forward. He might be cloaked, but he could still attract attention if he made too much noise or misplaced something in the environment.

  He took another careful step, eyeing the security guard, who was still staring at the open doors. Lewis wished he’d said something to Bailey; she was carrying more weapons than he was, which meant she risked making more noise when she moved. Taking another step, he let out a careful breath. Just a couple more feet and he’d be in the clear.

  “Holmes, where are you?” Bailey asked over the comm in a whisper. Her voice was echoing.

  Is she already in the stairwell, Lewis wondered. That would put her on the far side of the building, across the long atrium.

  He picked up his pace, moving away from a group of scientists that was headed for the elevators. The awe-inspiring aspects of the building were strictly its placement and the balloon suspending it; inside the headquarters were white walls surrounding stark white floors. There was absolutely nothing interesting to look at. Not even a painting or a sculpture.

  A little feng shui would go a long way, he thought.

  The door to the stairwell was propped open, but thankfully there was no one on this side of the building to see Lewis open it all the way and slip through.

  �
��I’m here,” he whispered into the comm.

  “It’s about time,” Bailey said, her voice right in front of him. “What, did you stop to make friends?”

  “I was going slow, trying to be quiet,” he argued.

  “I was quiet,” she stated.

  “Yeah, and apparently you move like a freaking cheetah,” Lewis said, giving Bailey a smile she couldn’t see. “Why’d you call me ‘Holmes’?”

  “It’s your handle. I picked it on a whim,” she told him, a laugh in her voice.

  He puckered his mouth and nodded. “I like it. Can I call you ‘Cheetah’?”

  “You can, but I won’t answer to it.” Bailey’s voice was moving farther away. “Mine was given to me by my first sergeant. It’s ‘Ladybug’.”

  “Cute. You’re heading up?” he asked, following the sound of her voice.

  “Did you want to stick around in the stairwell, or do what we came here to do?”

  “Someone gets sassy on missions,” he observed.

  “Sassier,” she corrected.

  “What’s with the name ‘Ladybug’?” Lewis asked after a minute, as he rounded the corner and advanced to the next floor.

  They had no idea where they were going, but higher floors usually housed the more valuable assets, so that’s where they were headed.

  “You’re the detective, Holmes. I’ll leave you to figure it out,” Bailey said, her voice even farther away.

  How is she moving that fast? he wondered. “Oh, she’s an enigma,” he panted aloud, a little out of breath.

  On the twentieth floor, he stopped, bending over with his hands on his knees, and taking in deep breaths.

  “When you’ve recuperated, I’ll check to see if the coast is clear,” Bailey said, her voice steady.

  “How do you know I need time to recover?” Lewis asked.

  “You’re wheezing like a fat kid playing dodgeball,” Bailey said.

  “Hey, maybe I was a fat kid,” he retorted.

  “Were you?” she asked.

  “Nah, I’ve always been dashingly handsome,” he said between sips of air.

  “And overly modest, I see,” Bailey teased. The door to the stairwell slipped back a couple of inches and held there.

  “I’m very modest,” Lewis stated smugly.

  “All clear,” she reported, opening the door a couple more feet.

  He slipped through after her, into a hallway that was unsurprisingly white on white.

  “Here, this office is empty,” Bailey said. “Keep an eye out for me.”

  Lewis parked by the open door to a room that was minimalistic to say the least. There wasn’t a single personal effect on the metal desk, only a computer. From his place in the hallway, he heard a few small clicks as Bailey went to work trying to access its data.

  Hatch had given them a Quick Key, which would open up most computers and let them access its records. It was apparently something that the mechanic and Pip had created together.

  “Dammit,” Bailey cursed in a hush.

  “What?” Lewis asked, peering around the corner.

  “It’s not working,” Bailey complained. “There’s an error.”

  “We could try taking the computer. Some files will be on there,” he suggested.

  “We’ll use that as a last-ditch effort,” she decided.

  Lewis heard footsteps approaching, growing closer. He looked in their direction and caught sight of a man in a white coat strolling around the corner. Behind him were four children wearing white tunics and loose pants. They marched behind the man like they were following a drill sergeant.

  “Hey, someone is coming,” he warned Bailey.

  “I know, I heard them,” she said, her voice on the other side of him, in the hallway.

  “How did you get past me?” Lewis asked, looking at the narrow opening between him and the doorframe.

  “Magic. Now let’s go,” she urged. “We’ll try another office.”

  They hurried down the corridor, putting as much space as they could between them and the scientist with his strange lemming children. From the quick glimpse, Lewis could discern that the children were in good health, walked in a regimented fashion, and had no personal effects. The two boys had short, cropped hair and the two girls wore theirs chin-length.

  What is Starboards Corp doing with children?

  “Group twelve is returning,” a voice said from directly in front of them. “Prepare group thirteen.” The man, another scientist in a white lab coat, was holding a door open, his eyes directed down the hallway, looking at the approaching children behind Lewis and Bailey.

  Something grabbed Lewis’s arm and tugged him forward. He peered down and saw nothing holding his cloaked arm, and knew at once that Bailey was directing him. She pulled him through the open door and into a large room, which was filled with horseshoe-shaped tables. Gathered around each of the tables were children wearing the same uniform as the ones in the hallway, and in the center of each grouping of tables was a scientist.

  At the first table they passed, a scientist was holding a flashcard up in front of the children, its content facing toward him. A girl with red hair held up her hand.

  “Yes, Anne?” the scientist called on her.

  “9.5,” the girl answered in a monotone.

  The man shook his head as he revealed the card to the kids. “It was 9.54,” he corrected her.

  They are creating children with precognition, Lewis observed.

  He allowed Bailey to tug him to the next table, where the children were all staring intently at yellow pencils which stood out brightly in the all-white room. One of the pencils budged an inch, halted, and then rolled off the table. The kid who the pencil had been sitting in front of looked up, a flitter of excitement in his eyes.

  “Good, Daniel,” the scientist praised, his voice flat. He kneeled down to retrieve the pencil and laid it back in front of the boy. “Now do it again.”

  The boy let out a breath, and nodded obediently.

  Bailey yanked harder on Lewis’s arm. His belt made a rustling sound from the sudden movement, and he looked up, his breath hitching in his throat. He scanned the area, worried that someone would have heard the noise, but it didn’t seem anyone had.

  At the back of the large room was a hallway that led to a dormitory containing beds and restrooms. Lewis feared they were trapped until he noticed a set of double doors on the far side of the corridor.

  A custodial worker dressed in white overalls pulled the doors open, a heavy look on his face. The smell of roasted meats and vegetables wafted from the large space.

  A cafeteria, Lewis observed.

  “It’s almost lunchtime,” the worker called over his shoulder. “Why don’t we have all of the places set?”

  “I’m working on it,” a voice called from somewhere behind him. “Why don’t you come and help me in the kitchen?”

  “Fine, fine,” the man growled.

  Bailey still had her fingers wrapped around Lewis’s arm and she pulled him into the cafeteria. The large meal area was empty when they entered, and a door at the back was swinging where the custodial worker had disappeared. The space was filled with round, white tables, and at each seat was a clear glass of water and trays with dividers for the food.

  Lewis imagined they fed the children white potatoes and pale, sliced chicken breast to go with the rest of the décor.

  He was busy studying the starched cafeteria when a flash of color caught his attention from the corner of his vision. He halted, watching as Bailey’s form flickered in front of him.

  “Oh shit,” she said.

  “Something must be wrong with your belt,” Lewis murmured, pulling her toward the corner next to the kitchen, where he recognized the doors of a service elevator. “We’ve got to get that fixed before someone sees.”

  She agreed with nod, speeding for the elevator while pulling Hatch’s all-access keycard from her pocket.

  Bailey scanned the card over the reader and it flashed gr
een. The button to the elevator made no noise when she pressed it. She stepped onto the elevator, distinctly feeling like she was being followed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Starboards Corp Headquarters, Tangki System

  Dejoure blinked at the pencil. She’d nearly given herself an aneurism trying to move the object. Daniel always got his to roll off the table during the session. Cindy usually made hers shoot across the room several times; even Terrill had gotten his pencil to move, and he was never good at any of the tasks.

  Dejoure’s pencil hadn’t ever moved. Not once. She reasoned it was because the bright yellow was so enchanting to look at, a rare bit of color at Starboards—or ‘SB’ as she called it. ‘Suck butt.’’

  “I need you to concentrate, Dejoure,” the instructor said, mispronouncing her name, making the “j” sound hard instead of soft.

  She was tired of correcting him. What does it matter? Everyone messed up her name.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, working to keep the irritated look off her face. She’d made that mistake too many times and had been punished for it. Solitary confinement would be a welcome break from the daily trainings, except they gave her extra sessions while being punished.

  Dejoure had only been at SB for six months, and she’d already been in solitary confinement six times. Her warden, Dr. Lukas—or ‘Dr. Ass’ for short—said that he would soon polish out her bad habits.

  Living in various orphanages had engrained a lot of bad habits, apparently.

  In the beginning, Dejoure was excited to hear that she’d been accepted to SB’s Protégé program. They sold it using a shiny brochure and a toothy grin. The reality, discovered only after the papers were signed, and Dejoure’s bags were packed, was very different from the images on the brochure of happy children learning advanced calculus.

  They were learning alright, learning how to use super powers. But it wasn’t at all like the X-Men comics that Dejoure had stashed under her bed. Dr. Ass was nothing like Professor X, and the ward where they were kept was so not the X-Mansion.