Children of Genesis (The Gateway Series Book 1)

by Toby Minton

  “I guess. But I don’t see how you’re going to convince them you caught me. No offense, but that doesn’t sound likely.”

  “Too right. Wouldn’t work,” Corso said. “That’s why I’m going to tell you the truth.” Corso paused, and Michael looked up at him, a warning burn starting in his gut.

  “I’ve known where your sister was this whole time,” Corso said with a dark half grin. “You were right back in the city. I just want to get paid. That’s why I played your game until you brought me out here, where I can walk away once our business is done.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “You didn’t think I was going to cooperate while you had me locked up, did you?” Corso said. He huffed a derisive laugh. “Grow up, kid. You’re playing a big man’s game now—and so far you’re losing.”

  Michael didn’t have the words to respond. He should have listened to his anger all along instead of his instincts, which were obviously more gullible than dependable, much as Nikki teased. As he stood there, jaw clenching in anger, mute with embarrassment, he promised himself he’d never make that mistake again.

  “Now let’s talk payment, mate,” Corso said with that grin Michael was now deciding how to knock off his face. “Let’s just go ahead and triple whatever figure you’re thinking. That should give us a place to start.”

  As he finished, Corso held up his fist and opened his hand with a flourish, showing Michael the recorder and the red light glowing behind the button. He clicked the button once and winked at Michael. “How’d we do, beauty?”

  Michael closed his open mouth, even more embarrassed now that he realized Corso had been performing, and doing it well enough to fool him even though he was supposed to be in on the plan. He hated this. He hated that his emotions were so raw and sensitive that he was overreacting to everything. He wasn’t thinking things through. He wasn’t thinking at all. He was just snapping, pouting, or looking for excuses to fight anything and everything.

  It was like Nikki’s absence had created a vacuum that could only be filled with rash and reckless behavior. Since she wasn’t around to be his volatile counterpart, Michael was doing it for her. Maybe doing so was his subconscious mind’s attempt to cope, to alleviate his sense of loss. Whatever it was, it had to stop. It wasn’t him. He was the careful, rational one. He did with logic and focus what Nikki did with passion and abandon. If he was going to be of any use getting her back, he had to start acting like himself again, not some capricious muddle of their personalities.

  “Somebody’s tracking the signal alright,” Kate said, the light from her tablet screen reflecting off her glasses almost masking the excitement in her eyes. “Now let’s see if I can find them. Cross your fingers, boys.”

  Nikki

  The pain was, unbelievably, even worse than when they’d started torturing her what seemed like hours ago, but at least it was no longer a surprise. Nikki had learned to anticipate the waves, to prepare herself before they hit. Doing so didn’t lessen the pain, not in the least, but it did let her get out at least one good tearing scream each time before her throat seized up. And those screams were starting to have an effect on the technicians.

  She saw the cringes in the hunched lab coats, especially from the kid. She caught the quick looks they shared behind Savior’s back. She saw the queasy expressions on the faces of those who dared to glance in her direction. Whatever skill or talent had brought these people to Savior, they were now party to something sick and brutal, and she was making sure they knew it.

  As rebellions go, it wasn’t much, but it was all Nikki had. What little bravado she’d managed to muster when they’d first brought her in here had crumbled under the onslaught of pain. Her sarcastic insults, which she had thrown at her captors as soon as each wave ended, were now carried away on the crest of the agony before they could make it to her tongue. And at some point her strength had given out. At first, she’d tried to stay strong, to show them she wasn’t going to break. After the first waves had faded, she’d tightened her arms and core, using the restraints to hold herself rigidly upright instead of letting them hold her. Between waves, she’d stared around the room at anyone who’d meet her eyes. But her show of defiance hadn’t lasted long. Within the first hour, her strength had literally been squeezed out of her by her own muscle spasms.

  All she had left was her hope that they’d stop hurting her at some point, and her fear that they wouldn’t. Those and her screams. They persisted where everything else failed, touching everyone except the one man who could end the torment.

  Savior stood before her, his hand on the conduit, and stared unwaveringly through the hours of agony as he calmly ordered each wave.

  Nikki wanted to believe he had no desire to hurt her, like he’d said at the start. After a while she was even clinging to those words, desperately wishing for him to prove their truth and set her free. She’d seen in his eyes the evidence of his displeasure at her pain, at first. But as the unmistakable white glow built in those eyes with each wave he ordered, his gaze slowly moved through her, beyond her. He no longer seemed to see her at all. As she grew weaker, the white glow grew stronger—now almost completely eclipsing the brilliant blue irises surrounding it—and Savior’s awareness of Nikki or anything else around him seemed to fade.

  It wasn’t until Nikki sagged into the thin liquid after the next wave that Savior roused himself. It wasn’t Nikki’s screams that moved him, nor was it her pleading—she’d spit out the last of her pride with the blood from her bitten tongue many waves ago and started begging for relief. It was Price touching him lightly on the shoulder and leaning in to whisper some news.

  Thanks to the active intercom box, Nikki heard the darker man’s every word like he was whispering for her ears instead of his boss’s.

  “Sir, we’ve picked up a transmission from the criminal’s tracer,” he said.

  Some deep part of Nikki wanted her to look up with a grin and ask him to be more specific—everyone in this place was a criminal as far as she was concerned—but that part of her was too exhausted to make an appearance. The best she could manage was a tired glance up to see the glow fade from Savior’s eyes as his focus returned from wherever it had been.

  “And?” he said at last.

  “He’s with the brother,” Price said, his words causing a spike of alarm that tried to rekindle the fight in Nikki.

  No, she thought, he doesn’t mean Michael. He can’t. They can’t bring Michael here. They—they can’t. She met Savior’s eyes. Please, no. You said you didn’t need him here. You said he’d get in the way, Nikki wanted to say, but no sound came out when she opened her mouth. Her screams had worn her throat raw and sapped even her voice’s strength.

  Savior looked at her, ran his eyes over her exhausted submerged body with that clinical gaze, a hint of some emotion tightening his eyes and mouth slightly. Then he nodded at Price, who headed for the door, and looked over at Kid Technician. “Collector status.”

  “Nineteen percent,” the kid replied in a subdued voice. “The…subject’s rate of production decreased by up to twelve percent at times despite the consistent rate of input. I can’t account for the variance—”

  “Well done, all of you.” Savior interrupted, keying a sequence into a panel Nikki couldn’t see beside the tank. “I’m programming the recovery solution. Maintain the feed for thirty minutes, then drain the tank and get her to her room.” He looked into Nikki’s eyes when he finished. “We resume at oh nine hundred tomorrow.”

  He walked out, leaving Nikki battling her emotions. Michael might be in trouble. Her concern should be for him, not for herself. That’s how it would be for him if their situations were reversed, she knew. But the thought of going through this again tomorrow filled her with a cowering fear that kept pushing all other thoughts from her mind. She just couldn’t focus on the possibility of Michael’s capture when she was staring at the certainty of her own agony.

  The shame of her selfish struggle broke the final d
am she’d somehow managed to keep in place throughout her torture. Nikki sobbed silently, her tears flowing into the soothing solution pulsing gently around and through her as it warmed further.

  The BioGel worked efficiently. Nikki’s sobs slowed and faded before she knew it. Her heart rate slowed as the soothing gel fed her system whatever drugs Savior had selected. Sleep pulled her under before she could form another thought.

  * * *

  It wasn’t until much later, when she woke up back in her cell in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets, that Nikki remembered Michael’s danger.

  She’d woken up in the middle of the night with her heart racing too many times in her life to count. But this time it wasn’t the past haunting her sleep. Alone in the early morning darkness, Nikki sat frozen in the grip of a thought that was darker and more terrifying than the worst of her familiar nightmares. If Michael would get in the way here like Savior said—if Savior didn’t need him, then what was Savior planning to do if he found him? What had he already done while she slept?

  The thought of Savior hurting her brother, or worse bringing him here to take her place in the tank, reignited Nikki’s anger.

  The fire inside her was pitiful at first, especially compared to her nauseating fear of going back in that tank, a fear made stronger by the isolating darkness around her. But Nikki was as sick of her old fear as she was of hiding from it. Her ridiculous terrors had brought her nothing but shame and sleepless nights. She was strong. She shouldn’t have to be afraid of anything. She’d been a victim once, yes, but she shouldn’t have to suffer for it forever. She wasn’t going to do herself or her brother any good as long as she was cowering in the dark.

  “I’m alone,” she said to the darkness. Her voice faltered when she said it, and the familiar tremor pulsed in her gut. Nikki closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe deeply.

  Nikki imagined herself pushing that tremor of fear into her flickering anger. In her mind she saw that tiny flame consume the tremor and grow larger.

  “I’m alone.” She said again, her voice a little stronger this time, and repeated the process.

  Nikki sat in the still darkness of her cell and repeated her mantra over and over. Little by little she fed her fear into the steadily growing flames of her anger as the hours ticked by, until the darkness couldn’t touch her anymore.

  Out of Time

  Chapter 31

  Michael

  Only a few minutes had passed since Corso had activated the locator, but to Michael they’d dragged like hours. He was calmer than before, making an effort to act more like himself and less like his sister. But keeping still and quiet was a challenge, as much as he wanted to give Kate the peace and space she needed to work.

  “Clever, clever, clever,” Kate muttered, shaking her head and giving her screen an appreciative grin as her fingers tapped away at the virtual keys. “You’re no slouch, I’ll give you that.”

  She’d been talking to herself the whole time, when she wasn’t talking to whoever was on the other end of the signal. Michael had made the mistake of responding the first time she’d done it, which might have been embarrassing had Kate noticed. She hadn’t. She was oblivious to anything going on around her.

  Elias’s crew was used to the way Kate worked. They ignored her mumblings and went about their business. Corso seemed to find it amusing though.

  “Adorable, this one,” Corso said, eyeing Kate with his lopsided grin, the effect only partially spoiled by his bruises. He and Michael were sitting on the jump seats across from Kate next to the open ramp, Michael hunched over with his forearms on his knees, Corso lounged back with one arm behind his head and his legs stretched out in front of him.

  “Ha! Didn’t see that one coming, did you?” Kate crowed at the screen.

  Michael looked over at Corso, trying to get a read on him. He couldn’t tell if the man was interested in Kate or just trying to get under his skin again. Either way, Michael wasn’t going to let it bother him. He had more important things to worry about. Until Nikki was safe, he couldn’t allow himself to get distracted by his own confusing feelings.

  Elias walked into view from beside the transport and started up the ramp, his weapon hanging from its sling down the front of his chest. “How’s it coming?” he asked Michael, apparently well aware that Kate wouldn’t hear him.

  Michael shook his head and looked at Kate again. “Seems to be going OK, as far as I can tell.”

  Elias nodded and watched Kate work for a few seconds, his gray eyes showing his tension. “This is taking too long.” He looked at Corso. “What was the response time when you signaled them before?”

  “I didn’t,” Corso replied. “Like I said, mate—”

  “Fine,” Elias cut in. “When Nikki signaled them.”

  “If she activated that thing when I think she did, maybe forty minutes, give or take an hour.” At Elias’s flat glare, Corso rolled his eyes away with a slow laugh.

  “We weren’t exactly on the clock, you know," Corso said. "After a few shots, and a dance or two with a bird like that one, a man tends to lose track of time.”

  Elias checked his watch and grimaced. Then he looked toward the cockpit. “Coop, anything on the scanner?”

  “Not a thing, boss,” Coop called back. Michael could see him slouched in the pilot seat, one arm dangling back toward the steps down to the bay. “Normal traffic from eight to four o’clock, same as since we got here. A whole lot of nothing from our six for the past few minutes.”

  “Did that make any sense?” Michael asked no one in particular. When he looked up, Elias seemed to understand perfectly, and he didn’t look happy. Corso had a similar reaction. He and Elias shared a look, then Corso headed for the cockpit.

  “Mos, saddle up!” Elias shouted down the ramp.

  “What’s going on?” Michael asked, rising.

  “Maybe nothing, but a dead spot on the scanner could be a screen,” Elias answered as he stepped closer to Kate and put a hand on her arm to get her attention. “Kate, we have to wrap this now.”

  “I’m close,” she replied, glancing up from her screen for the first time. “I need a few more minutes.”

  Coop’s angry shout from the cockpit announced Corso’s arrival. Michael glanced that way just in time to see Corso slap Coop’s hands away from the scanner to check it himself. To say Coop didn’t take that well would be a bit of an understatement. The resulting argument got steadily louder until Coop shouted, “Why the hell would I want to switch to thermal, convict?”

  Michael couldn’t make out Corso’s muttered reply, but it sent Coop into a full-blown fit. He looked away from the one-sided shouting match just as Mos jogged up the ramp behind Elias.

  “Problem, boss?”

  “Not if we’re lucky,” Elias replied. “Kate?”

  “I need more time,” she said with another head shake, her gaze glued to her screen again. She started talking in a low voice, to herself, Michael hoped. He doubted anyone else could hear her. He surely couldn’t, and he was right in front of her. Coop’s steadily increasing volume from the cockpit was making it hard just to hear himself think.

  Coop finally fell silent when Corso bellowed over him, “Really, bumkin? Then what’s that?”

  “Son of a—bogey bearing down hard!” Coop shouted.

  Michael froze, the sharp jolt of emotion spiking inside him more frustration than fear. They’d known Savior would send a team to get him. They’d counted on it, in fact. But he’d been confident Kate would locate Savior’s base before they arrived.

  “We’re out of time, Kate. Coop, get us in the air,” Elias ordered, reaching back to hit the ramp control.

  “On it. Hold on back there,” Coop called, the roar of the thrusters almost drowning him out.

  The transport was just starting to lift off when Corso yelled, “Incoming seeker!” He swung into the stairwell and pointed at Kate. “The locator. Lose it!”

  Michael lunged but Elias was faster. The older man snatch
ed the disk off Kate’s booster and whipped it sidearm through the narrowing gap of the closing ramp. “Brace!” he shouted.

  The explosion hit before Michael could react. The shock wave slammed the ramp shut with a deafening crash and swung the transport in a gut-tossing spin.

  When the transport stabilized, Michael pushed himself up and looked down to see how much damage he’d caused. The impact had thrown him toward Kate. He’d instinctively tried to shield her with his body, but there was nothing to shield her from inside the reeling transport, except maybe himself. He’d crushed her tablet between them. Luckily, nothing looked bent or crumpled, on the tablet or Kate.

  Mos hadn’t fared as well. The big man was slumped at the base of the closed ramp, holding his head and cursing under his breath. Elias was crouched next to him with one hand tangled in Mos’s shirt where he’d tried to stop his fall. With the other, he was steadying Kate’s cart of equipment.

  “Strap in, all of you,” Elias ordered. As Michael dropped into a seat and fumbled behind his back for the restraints, Elias hauled Mos toward a seat.

  From the cockpit, Coop and Corso’s argument continued to escalate, enough so that Michael could make out every word like they were sitting on top of him.

  “What’s the plan, nugget?” Corso baited. “Get us all killed? You’re doing a bang up job. You do know he’s coming back, right?”

  “Get off my bridge, punk,” Coop shouted back as the transport banked and accelerated. “I don’t need backseat drivin’ from a civvy.”

  “You need something. He’s gaining angles on you, mate. Whatever’s in that bogan head of yours, you’d better do it now.”

  “I’ve got this under control!”

  “Do you? What’s the plan? Run home?”

  “You got a better idea, buddy? Huh? Well stick it. Get off my bridge!”

  “OK,” Corso said, “Play time’s over.”

  “Michael.” Elias’s voice somehow cut through the shouting. He was wrestling Mos into a jump seat and holding an already blood-soaked cloth to the bigger man’s head. Even so, he spared a glance for Michael and tipped his chin toward the cockpit. “Get Corso out of there. We don’t have time for a pissing contest.”