The Cleanway: Clean Book 2

by Tim Niederriter

  “Sounds pretty simple. Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Elizabeth could not keep the doubt from her voice.

  “The best plans are simple.”

  “Do we have another choice?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Not as I see it. Now, you’ll never sneak up on her in that skirt, so you should be the distraction.”

  Elizabeth did not like the deal but could see no other option. “I agree.”

  “Let’s go,” said Carol. “I’m going to hide my mind, so no more talking.”

  Elizabeth nodded. Carol motioned for her to take the lead with her ashy hand. They headed toward the center.

  Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Military Command Center Alpha

  In the same conference room he had met the colonel in before, Ryan, Alesia, and Conner took seats around the table. Colonel Cannwald arrived, looking tired and old, but he wasn’t alone.

  A slender, dark-skinned aeon the in a white fleet uniform followed the army officer into the room. A wound was dressed and bandaged with a white adhesive under his right eye, and his frizzy hair was bundled back behind his head. He walked to the head of the table and stood beside Cannwald.

  “People,” said Cannwald. “This is Captain Kamuek, of the scout ship Astra III. He is here to assist us in the search for the renegades.”

  Kamuek nodded. “As I understand it, they are operating brazenly in central parts of the city.”

  Cannwald coughed into his fist. “Captain, this is Ryan Carter, Alesia De Vries, and Conner Kohl. All excellent agents, but I’m afraid they’re only—”

  Human, Ryan thought. We can only do so much without an aeon. Is this what humanity has become? Deferential to beings we do not fully understand.

  Ryan frowned as he considered Kamuek’s possible allegiance to a higher power. He wished he had the chance to check the network banks to see if Sudhatho had this captain in his pocket like he did with so many others. Ryan already had his suspicions on other military ties Sudhatho might have, as a powerful fleet commander.

  Kamuek took over for Cannwald. “I scanned the area with my ship. I found evidence of three suspected mental signals moving toward the south, near the grand canal. They may belong to our renegades.”

  “There were four renegades,” said Ryan.

  “Naturally, one has already split off, possibly gone to ground. I could not find any evidence of the fourth suspect.”

  “None?” Conner drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “With respect, isn’t that suspicious on its own?”

  “One of my sisters who was on the scene reported the disappearance of a fourth signal last night.” Kamuek raised his eyebrows at Conner. “I trust my sister’s report.”

  Therefore, we should trust you too. Inwardly, Ryan seethed. The aeon could probably sense his frustration, though when Ryan spoke, he measured his tone and went slowly.

  “How wide is this investigation going to be? Can you name this sister of yours?”

  “She submitted her information anonymously.”

  “So, you don’t know who she is either?” Ryan frowned.

  “Indeed.”

  Alesia folded her arms and shook her head. “We’re wasting time. Tell us about these three signatures.”

  She’s right. There are dangerous people out there, and every second we don’t stop Trench and the others is another second they can launch another attack. Ryan nodded again.

  “Agreed,” said Kamuek, “I suggest we take my ship south. The sensory enhancers on board should help us pinpoint the location and disposition of the renegades when combined with your skills at sensocycling.”

  Ryan had never been inside a light ship before. If Kamuek could be trusted, they could make a major push with his help. Too bad we can’t take his word without strings, he thought.

  “Alright. Let’s do it,” Ryan said.

  Unregistered Memory, Elizabeth Ashwood, Yashelia’s Garden

  Elizabeth crept through the burnt garden. Every nerve screamed at her to retreat as she neared the center, where hints of green remained on singed branches, despite the seasonal change. She kept walking forward, in spite of her fear.

  What would her sister, Anne, have said if she were here if she were able?

  Anne would tell Elizabeth the same thing she had told her when Elizabeth had been preparing for her first job interview.

  Elizabeth remembered Anne’s words clearly despite the intervening years.

  You’re strong enough. You’re smart enough. They should be afraid of you.

  “You’re strong enough. You’re smart enough.” Elizabeth released a shallow breath. “They should be afraid of me.”

  She found a path straight to the center and began to walk it. Wind cut between the trees and hit her with cold. Elizabeth shivered, but pressed forward, arms wrapped around herself.

  The shadow of a hunched tree with overgrown branches tilting it to one side, grew before her. A thick trunk of almost-stony bark supported twisted, interlacing limbs. One of those limbs bent all the way to the roots at the trunk’s base, where a feminine frame sat propped against the branch.

  Elizabeth stared at Yashelia.

  Yellow hair as overgrown as her tree tumbled around her head. Gray clothes, stained with dried blood swathed her, torn by bullet holes and blackened in places by flames. The wound in her forehead oozed a fine stream of bright ichor to trickle down her face. All around the clearing surrounding Yashelia lay the bodies of the purifier team sent to destroy her, torn apart by the aeon’s hands.

  Elizabeth forced herself to continue forward. She stood within the garden, smelling rot and blood. Her hands trembled, clutched to her elbows. She faced Yashelia, nerves overwhelmed. The aeon opened her eyes.

  “Miss Ashwood,” she said. “What made you turn around?”

  “I wanted to see if you were as strong as Jeth told me.”

  “Jeth talked about me. Silly boy, kissing and telling.”

  “You kissed him, the way he told it.”

  “Have you ever known a man to lie?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Of course it is. Liz.” Yashelia’s lips formed a tired smile. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

  “I wish I could say the same.”

  Yashelia got up. Her lips curved into a frown, but her eyes still sparkled. “You have a choice you know. Jeth doesn’t own you.”

  “Nobody owns me,” said Elizabeth.

  I’m strong enough.

  “I notice my other guest abandoned you. Funny how people never really change, isn’t it? Once a coward, always a coward.”

  I’m smart enough.

  Elizabeth nodded. “I don’t need her. She would only slow me down.”

  “Oh, but she has those vaunted commando skills. Even a human can do many things with training like hers, provided she is brave enough.”

  Yashelia prowled toward Elizabeth, languid, showing no signs of discomfort or pain from her old wounds. She stepped into Elizabeth’s space, close enough the aeon’s breath misted in Elizabeth’s face.

  They should be afraid of me.

  Carol darted from the tree line near the aeon tree. She sprinted toward Yashelia. She made no sound except for the soft rustle of her feet in the grass.

  Yashelia brought her face close to Elizabeth’s. She seemed giant, a smirking monster. “You really are clever, for a human.”

  Without looking, Yashelia’s hand snaked out. She caught Carol by the throat and lifted her off her feet. Carol made a terrible gagging sound as her shoes left the ground.

  “What do you know. You didn’t abandon her, Carol. You surprised me.”

  Carol’s hands fought to pry Yashelia’s fingers from her neck.

  Yashelia’s eyes remained fixed on Elizabeth. “Now what are you going to do, Liz?”

  Elizabeth grabbed the back of Yashelia’s neck with one hand. As the aeon’s lethal arm poised to strike, Elizabeth locked her lips with Yashelia. Then she bit the aeon’s lip. Ichor pulsed free. Elizabeth ta
sted it.

  Yashelia’s slap tore her free and sent her flying across the clearing. She landed in an aching, cold heap but despite the pain, she was already sending her location to Jeth. She only hoped he would not be too late.

  As soon as I received it, I relayed Elizabeth’s location information to Ryan, and after a second of hesitation, to Sarah Harper’s assistant. Elizabeth and Carol were in Yashelia’s garden. They needed as much help as possible.

  Thomas fired up the engine. Rebecca, Thomas, and I rode the dented vehicle toward the garden. I’m not a real believer. I normally don’t pray, even silently, but I did then.

  Unregistered Memory, Elizabeth Ashwood, Yashelia’s Garden

  Elizabeth opened her eyes to the physical world, dazed and aching from Yashelia’s blow. She expected to find the rogue aeon ready to strike, but instead, another figure interposed between herself and the monster.

  The newcomer wore a white mask and a hooded sweatshirt. Elizabeth recognized her. The lone sentry stood in a martial stance.

  “How did you get here?” Elizabeth asked as she fought to get to her feet.

  The sentry dug in her feet. “Run. If you can.”

  Yashelia did not release Carol. She stalked toward Elizabeth and the sentry, flexing the fingers of the free hand she had used to slap Elizabeth. Carol still struggled against the aeon’s grip, breath forming a misty halo in the air.

  As the two aeons closed with each other, Elizabeth backed away, though she did not have a hope of escape without either Carol or the lone sentry. For all she knew, the barrier would trap her here indefinitely, regardless of the outcome of this fight. However, given a choice between dying sooner, and dying later, Elizabeth would take later.

  She stepped onto the path leading out of the garden and turned. A hulking, gray, form towered in her way. The sensation of teeth gnashing in her face made her shrink back from the aeon who had attacked them on the high street.

  Behind her, Yashelia laughed. “Tooth! Good timing, my dear.”

  The huge aeon lunged at Elizabeth. She threw herself off the path and out of his reach. Her long skirt caught in the brambles that still remained following the fire. She turned, nearly falling because of the tugging undergrowth, and found Tooth barreling toward the sentry.

  The sentry whirled just in time to meet the big aeon head on. She ducked his fist, then used his momentum to hurl him to the ground. He hit with a crash that seemed to shake the trees.

  “My point,” said the sentry as she turned to Yashelia.

  Yashelia growled low in her throat and tossed Carol aside. The renegade soldier hit the ground and rolled to a stop a dozen meters ahead of Elizabeth in the clearing. Yashelia stepped into the sentry’s guard and they exchanged a series of blows that would crush any human they struck.

  At last, they traded impacts and skidded away in opposite directions, though Yashelia stopped herself faster. The sentry’s boots tore a furrow through the grass at her feet. Both aeons were breathing hard.

  “Elizabeth asked a good question,” said Yashelia. “Why are you here, vigilante? Do I know you, somehow?”

  “I protect the people of this city. Don’t be so surprised, monster.”

  “Monster? Why, my dear, you’re just like me.” Yashelia felt her jaw where the sentry had hit her. “I can tell by your strength.”

  The lone sentry responded by motioning for Yashelia to come closer.

  Yashelia laughed. “Oh dear, this is only just beginning, I see.”

  Elizabeth made her way out of the brambles and moved as quickly as her skirt would allow to Carol’s side. The renegade woman clutched one hand to her chest, the other to her throat. She breathed in fits and gasps. Elizabeth knelt beside Carol as Yashelia advanced on the lone sentry.

  Thomas slammed on the brakes and the van squealed to a halt a block from the shimmering golden dome that surrounded Yashelia’s garden. I fumbled for my seatbelt, managed it, and we all disembarked. As we walked the rest of the way toward the garden, Thomas removed his pistol from his holster and loaded it.

  Rebecca glanced at me as Thomas finished with his handgun, and I checked my revolver. “Do either of you happen to have a spare I can use?” she asked.

  I could hardly imagine Rebecca using a weapon, though what she told me about her career in the city made me guess she could handle one. We had hurried out, and my shotgun was still upstairs in my apartment. I shook my head.

  Thomas shrugged. “I don’t like to say it, but these probably won’t do a whole lot of good either way.”

  Rebecca’s lips made a straight line. “If you know where to shoot, they might. Aeons are more vulnerable to pain and damage near their natural wounds.”

  “How do you know that?” Thomas asked. “I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “Give me a gun, and maybe I’ll share, too.”

  Thomas gave a sigh, sounding exasperated. “You don’t think we could use all the information?”

  “Right now, you don’t need it.”

  “Fine,” Thomas said, “shoot near the wounds. For Yashelia, that means the hands, feet, and head.”

  “Right,” said Rebecca as we crossed the street to the light barrier. “Now to get through here…” She frowned. “Kinetic force won’t be enough.” She turned to me. “Jeth, take my hand.”

  I holstered my pistol and reached for her outstretched arm. She clamped her fingers around mine as if we were going to sensocycle.

  “I’m going to touch the barrier. It’s not exactly physical, but it is mentally aversive, especially to single individuals. However, two minds working together should be able to cause a rift in it without suffering too much pain.”

  “Pain, huh?” I murmured. “I can handle it.”

  She extended her other hand to the side of the flickering golden dome. The moment her hand made contact the worst of my memories bubbled up from within. My grandparents’ deaths, the note Rebecca left when she fled the valley, the visions of what had happened in this very garden all assailed me at once, layered over with needles of pain in my every nerve. The effect reminded me of plunging into a freezing pool.

  The difference? This shock did not diminish as Rebecca led me forward. The pain and sadness intensified. As we walked, I felt Thomas’ palm slap into mine.

  He sent a thought. I’m not letting you go in there without me.

  I could not respond. It was all I could do to force myself forward through the barrier, despite my instinct to pull away. Elizabeth needed us and needed us now.

  The nerve pain receded first, followed by the memories of fear and sorrow. All three of us stood at the edge of the garden. Rebecca looked at me with tears in her eyes, as she released her hand. I was crying, too.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “it was worse than I thought.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said.

  Thomas wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “No time. We have to get to the center.”

  “Find Elizabeth.” Rebecca nodded.

  We started down the path through the blackened and burned woods.

  Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Light Ship Astra III

  Inside Kamuek’s ship was a single tight corridor with a circular command center at one end. Seated beside Conner and behind the Kamuek, who piloted the ship, Ryan took a sip of ichor. He reached out with his mind.

  The light ship’s path curved toward the garden where the massacre had taken place. Ryan dreaded the connection he suspected there between Sudhatho, the rogue star, and these new renegades.

  The ship moved fast, which combined with the altitude and sensory amplifiers on the hull, let Ryan and Conner survey the city rapidly in search of the renegades. They found them, each on a separate motorcycle, approaching Yashelia’s garden.

  Ryan frowned as he considered his team’s options.

  “Captain,” he said, “Can you take us closer to the light dome at the canal’s edge?”

  “Mister Carter, have you foun
d the renegades?” asked Kamuek.

  “They’re driving toward the garden. There are no bridges near there, so my guess is they’re going to try to get inside. We have to stop them.”

  Kamuek accelerated the light ship even more and banked it toward the garden. “Of course! There’s a rogue star in that garden! Damned terrorists.”

  They sped toward the canal and the golden dome flickering over the trees beside it.

  Rebecca, Thomas, and I followed the path at a run. Loud thumps and harsh cries rang from the center of the garden. My lungs complained at the effort, and my nerves shook, but I pressed forward. Elizabeth was in here somewhere.

  We raced along the path until we emerged, gasping, into the clearing at the center of the garden. There, I stumbled to stop before three aeons. The big gray one we had encountered on the high street lay on his back, while the lone sentry and Yashelia circled each other.

  “I’ve been bored for too long,” said Yashelia, eyes gleaming. “Thank you, dear enemy. You are too familiar. Yet I can’t seem to place you.”

  “Shut up!” said the lone sentry.

  Ichor sparkled from the wounds in Yashelia’s hands and forehead, running between her fingers and separately down the bridge of her nose. She smiled at her foe. Her eyes shone as bright as her blood.

  I tried to catch my breath, hands on my knees, but eyes on the fray.

  The aeons closed with each other again.

  A furious exchange of fists, kicks, and sweeps of limbs, and both fighting aeons still stood. Yashelia seemed to have the edge, however, thanks to her sheer ferocity. The sentry reeled back, her mask cracked by Yashelia’s last strike.

  Thomas took aim as Yashelia swung again at her dazed opponent. Rebecca glanced at me, an unspoken question in her eyes. The weight of the revolver in its holster under my jacket reminded me I shouldn’t feel so helpless. But I did. I wasn’t a great shot, especially with a handgun. Thomas pulled the trigger.

  His shot hit Yashelia in her right hand. The bullet tore a real wound beside the natural one in her palm. She shrieked and fell back a step, looking at the damaged extremity.